Fic: Heaven Can Wait
Title: Heaven Can Wait
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: fluff
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Summary: Because this is all he could ever ask for.
Author's Note: Short little thing to make up for my leave D; I'm so sorry I've been MIA! After Sandy, I was out of power for like two weeks and then writer's block had to roll in and yeah. But I'm back now! :D
You wake up in your bed one day and your life flashes before your eyes. Visions of sun-filled days on a field cloud your memory as you think of your childhood. You think of all the times you chased your own shadow and tried to reach the sky with your feet on the swing set, thinking you were unstoppable. The king of the universe.
You remember the first time you met him, with the bright blue eyes that lit up your world and the shy, awkwardly charming smile that could get you to do anything, no matter how ridiculous. You'd never forget the mischievious smirk you shared with him as you drew gas masks on your project. The project that brought you your best friend, your lover, your life. Your lips twitch up into a slight grin thinking about it.
The image of his blushing, flustered face floats into your mind. The first time he kissed you. He'd just came back from a two-week vacation and you missed each other. You remember missing his joyful laugh and the carefree mentality. It was hard being separated from him for an extended period of time. So when he kissed you, you responded eagerly, wanting to make up for the loss of two weeks. You lick your lips at the memory.
Your mind dwells on the repercussions and you grimace. You try not to think about how he ignored you for two weeks. You do remember, with a small smile, how every time your eyes met, he would blush and you'd try to get him to talk to you but he'd just stammer and run away. Finally, on a Saturday, you climbed into his window and confronted him. Your grimace deepens as recalled what he said to you.
"It was a mistake, Anthony," he had said. "It won't happen again."
Except it did, you think happily. You remember an impromptu make out session when you lot were sixteen and experienced being drunk for the first time. You weren't piss drunk like he was but you had your fair share of beers. You remember how his body fit to yours and how his hot, chapped lips moved in a sloppy sort of rhythm. It was hot and messy and you couldn't ask for more.
As time went on, you became closer to him, you think. You remember when he asked you if you wanted to get a house together. You remember the rush that you felt and how you lunged at him, crashing your lips together. You felt on top of the world, just like when you were a kid, and you can't imagine that heaven is better than that. You think that your life started at that point.
It's been probably four years in this house. This beautiful, amazing baby blue house. You look down at the mop of honey brown hair on the pillow next to yours. You smile down at him. Blue eyes blink up at you lazily. He smiles back.
"G'morning, Anthony," he says, voice hoarse from sleep.
"Hey Ian," you say, leaning down to peck his lips.
You decide that heaven can't be better than this, at all.
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: fluff
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Summary: Because this is all he could ever ask for.
Author's Note: Short little thing to make up for my leave D; I'm so sorry I've been MIA! After Sandy, I was out of power for like two weeks and then writer's block had to roll in and yeah. But I'm back now! :D
You wake up in your bed one day and your life flashes before your eyes. Visions of sun-filled days on a field cloud your memory as you think of your childhood. You think of all the times you chased your own shadow and tried to reach the sky with your feet on the swing set, thinking you were unstoppable. The king of the universe.
You remember the first time you met him, with the bright blue eyes that lit up your world and the shy, awkwardly charming smile that could get you to do anything, no matter how ridiculous. You'd never forget the mischievious smirk you shared with him as you drew gas masks on your project. The project that brought you your best friend, your lover, your life. Your lips twitch up into a slight grin thinking about it.
The image of his blushing, flustered face floats into your mind. The first time he kissed you. He'd just came back from a two-week vacation and you missed each other. You remember missing his joyful laugh and the carefree mentality. It was hard being separated from him for an extended period of time. So when he kissed you, you responded eagerly, wanting to make up for the loss of two weeks. You lick your lips at the memory.
Your mind dwells on the repercussions and you grimace. You try not to think about how he ignored you for two weeks. You do remember, with a small smile, how every time your eyes met, he would blush and you'd try to get him to talk to you but he'd just stammer and run away. Finally, on a Saturday, you climbed into his window and confronted him. Your grimace deepens as recalled what he said to you.
"It was a mistake, Anthony," he had said. "It won't happen again."
Except it did, you think happily. You remember an impromptu make out session when you lot were sixteen and experienced being drunk for the first time. You weren't piss drunk like he was but you had your fair share of beers. You remember how his body fit to yours and how his hot, chapped lips moved in a sloppy sort of rhythm. It was hot and messy and you couldn't ask for more.
As time went on, you became closer to him, you think. You remember when he asked you if you wanted to get a house together. You remember the rush that you felt and how you lunged at him, crashing your lips together. You felt on top of the world, just like when you were a kid, and you can't imagine that heaven is better than that. You think that your life started at that point.
It's been probably four years in this house. This beautiful, amazing baby blue house. You look down at the mop of honey brown hair on the pillow next to yours. You smile down at him. Blue eyes blink up at you lazily. He smiles back.
"G'morning, Anthony," he says, voice hoarse from sleep.
"Hey Ian," you say, leaning down to peck his lips.
You decide that heaven can't be better than this, at all.