Fic: This Is Waiting
Title: This Is Waiting
Pairing: Kesler/Burrows BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH
Rating: Explicit
Prequel to The Way We Always Were
Summary: One night, everything changes, in almost the right way.
I didn't know that last fic would get a prequel, but, now, there is one!
Also, my stupid work decided that 5 of my hours were "training" and therefore free. Fucking come on, guys, wasn't the WEEK of free training enough?
Written for xornej because she's awesome and deserves it :D And it was entirely her idea to write their FIRST TIME :D
They haven’t won like this in a while. They beat the Leafs five to nothing, with a hat trick for Ryan and the kind of cohesive playing that’s given them a new burst of hope for the season after two mediocre months. Most of the guys have come out to celebrate tonight, rowdy and ecstatic.
Alex’s spent most of the night at Ryan’s side, because - because that’s what he does, because Ryan’s all lit up with excitement after his hattrick, and Alex will never get enough of the way he smiles.
“Don’t you get tired of this taste,” he says, when Ryan comes back from the bar with another Kokanee, which Alex finds terrible. He steals the bottle to make sure of this, and yeah, still terrible. He’d think the relentless teasing alone would deter Ryan, because Kevin finds it hilarious that Ryan likes a BC beer.
“Impossible,” Ryan says, looks at him kind of lingeringly before he turns back to the rest of the guys, who are still loudly discussing NASCAR, for reasons Alex can’t follow. They seem to be arguing, though they agree that it sucks. Alex isn’t sure where he set his drink down. Around the third, he always seems to lose glasses really easily.
Eventually, they end up sitting at a booth with a bunch of their teammates, several of whom yell at Kevin as he claims that fly fishing is just throwing a string around like a moron.
“It’s like regular fishing!” Kevin says, “fucking stupid!”
“You only say that cos you can’t do it,” Ryan retorts. Alex doesn’t fish, but he’s inclined to like it, because he’s gone with Ryan a few times, and if fishing means hanging out in a boat with Ryan and laughing hysterically while Ryan gives him a lesson without knowing the names of any of the equipment, Alex loves fishing. Kevin’s still defending himself, and Alex tunes him out, leans into Ryan’s side a little. They’re always a little closer than anyone else, and when out drinking, Ryan doesn’t even notice if Alex goes a little farther. Alex nearly flinches in surprise, though, when Ryan sets a hand on his leg under the table, rubbing circles with his thumb as he yells at Kevin.
This is. Different. Alex squirms closer, struggles to stay still. But, oh, God, Ryan’s hand is right there on his thigh, and Alex is suddenly feeling really hot and short of breath.
“You’re either afraid of fish or water, at this point,” Ryan says to Kevin, who makes a face at him.
“I’m not crazy for thinking it’s a stupid sport!"
“It’s practically in the Olympics!” Mason exclaims.
“It’s not, though,” Cory replies, “like, not at all. What would they even judge you on?”
“How big the fish is? How long you can stay in the boat without falling out?”
“Is that usually a problem for you?”
Alex is having a hard time paying attention. He bites down on his lip to keep from making any sounds, struggles to keep his hips from twitching at the touch. He’s getting really hard, can feel himself blushing at the realisation, and oh, God, he should stop this before Ryan realises, his hand’s drifted higher, and he’s going to jerk it away if he realises how turned on Alex is.
“I, um,” Alex stammers out, about to ask Ryan to let him out of the booth or something, even though moving’s the last thing he wants. Except Ryan doesn’t hear him because Mason’s going on about how kayaks could totally drown people, and Alex thought Ryan would scoot so he was starting to get up, and oh, God, that little movement brought Ryan’s hand in contact with Alex’s erection. Alex tries to jerk back, but the wall’s right behind him, and Ryan’s hand is on his dick and he can’t so much as think, he should apologise or something but he’s fucking mortified. Oh, God, Ryan’s never going to talk to him again, Alex wants to die - but then Ryan looks at him, this smouldering look in his amber eyes, and then he rubs over the bulge of Alex’s erection very deliberately. Alex chokes on a moan, collapses against Ryan’s side.
“Seriously, Juice, did you have some traumatic experience with fish as a child?” Mason asks.
“Fish are just gross!”
“Don’t worry,” Lappy tells Kevin, very serious, “I’ll protect you from fish.” The other guys burst out laughing, but Kevin just smiles.
“Can you fish in a kayak, anyways?” Cory asks Mason.
Alex clenches his teeth, fighting to stay quiet. He doesn’t get what Ryan’s doing, why, doesn’t care, because he’s wanted everything from Ryan for years, and Ryan’s touching him and the whole world just stopped for that. It feels so good, this maddeningly slow touch, Ryan driving him insane, stroking him through his jeans with enough firmness for Alex to feel every second of it, too slow to do anything but drive Alex out of his mind.
Ryan looks at him again, and Alex wants to beg, plead for more more please, isn’t sure the words for how much he needs Ryan even exist. His hips twitch up into Ryan’s grip helplessly, desperation burning under his skin, he just needs more. He doesn’t get why Ryan is doing this, either, he’s never - never anything like this, never, has no idea how much Alex has wanted it. Is he just - for no reason? He can’t be out to embarrass Alex, not Ryan; anyone else, and Alex would be suspicious, but then again, anyone else and he wouldn’t be like this, achingly hard and fidgety with need.
“I think I’m gonna head back,” Cory says, “anyone else?”
“We will,” Ryan says, and Alex suddenly has a hard time breathing. What does that - does that mean something? He fidgets, trying to adjust himself so it’s not incredibly obvious, can feel himself turning red anyways. They scoot out of the booth, and Cory goes to find Dale, who said he wanted to go and then ran off to find his jacket.
“Dude,” Loo stops to talk to Ryan, “nice hattrick, fucking awesome.”
“Thanks, man.” They start talking about - something, Alex can’t pay attention. Ryan’s slipped a hand into Alex’s back pocket, and Alex is just dying.
“Okay, ready to go?” Cory reappears, and Alex nods. They finally leave the bar, flag down a taxi outside. Dale gets shotgun and Ryan ends up in the middle of the backseat. Cory leans forward to talk to Dale and the taxi driver, something about GPS, Alex doesn’t know, because Ryan is running his fingertips up and down Alex’s forearm, making Alex shiver. He wants to ask what are we doing, too afraid the question will turn into can we do more.
The ride to the hotel isn’t long, but it still feels like forever before they’re finally at the door of their room. Alex watches Ryan look for the card in his wallet, fidgety with energy. Just - what’s going to happen? Will they keep going? Fuck, he hopes they keep going. He’s so fucking hard, every nerve already on fire, desperate for more, because it’s Ryan, Ryan, Alex wants him so badly. Ryan finally gets the door open, and the second the door closes behind them, Ryan pushes Alex back against it, reaches down to rub Alex through his jeans.
“I want to-” Ryan starts, loses the rest of the words in a groan. He grinds his hips against Alex’s and Alex gets it, because oh, Ryan’s hard too, and there’s a raw neediness in his voice.
“Please,” Alex gasps out. He doesn’t care that this is a drunk, post-game-high hookup, what the fuck is he supposed to do, say no? He’s always wanted Ryan, and if this is how Alex gets him, at least he’s getting Ryan at all. Ryan tugs him over to the first bed, Alex’s, starts unbuttoning his own shirt. Alex quickly pulls off his own, fumbles with the button on his jeans. Ryan manages to get his belt and jeans off, tosses them over the side of the bed. Alex takes a second to just stare at him, Ryan on his knees on the bed in boxers, rubbing himself through his boxers.
“Fuck,” Ryan grinds out, “I don’t have - anything. To.” He sits back on his heels, bites his lip.
“I haven’t, with anyone,” Alex says. It’s true; he just. He can’t, can’t settle for anyone else when he wants one single person so badly.
“Cool,” Ryan brightens at that, “me neither.” Alex tries to hide his surprise, because he’d just assumed Ryan was sleeping with people; it would be easy for him. “So you want to, without. Anything.” Alex nods frantically, wants to stop discussing this already because he’s starting to be too touched by the way Ryan had to stop absolutely everything before being sure of what Alex wanted. Ryan hops off the bed to go into the bathroom, comes back with one of the lotion bottles. “Fuck,” he mumbles out as he looks over Alex, and oh, God, Alex never thought Ryan would look at him like this, like Ryan wants him. Ryan reaches for him, but all he touches is Alex’s hip, a light brush of his fingertips, so gentle, and suddenly, Alex isn’t sure he can do this. He needs this to be hard and fast and nothing like soft and close to what he really wants, he can’t stand a single reminder. He turns into his stomach, gives Ryan a hopeful look over his shoulder.
“Goddamn,” Ryan exhales, slides one hand into his own boxers. Alex squirms out of his own boxers, and Ryan shoves off his own, leans over Alex’s back and licks a long line up his spine. Alex buries a moan in the pillow, legs trembling. He can’t handle this if it’s slow, can’t have it resemble what he wants but can’t have, but oh God everything feels so good.
“Please,” he gasps out, and then finally, Ryan slides a finger into him. Alex cries out, a gasp Ryan thankfully can’t hear. By three fingers, he’s shaking, wants to beg and beg. He doesn’t get to that point, because then Ryan’s pushing into him, so fucking big, and Alex moans, his dick twitching eagerly. He can’t believe they’re actually doing this, Ryan’s inside him and Alex wants him so bad he could sob with it.
“‘S’ok?” Ryan asks, leans up and oh, God, he just kissed Alex’s shoulder, stubble rough against his skin. Alex trembles, desperate.
“Move, please, please,” he pleads, struggles to keep a hold of himself. Ryan leans back, thrusts into him deep. Alex reaches to fist himself as Ryan pushes into him in long, hard thrusts, the feelings crashing together and oh, Alex is going to go out of his mind with how good it is. He whimpers helplessly, tries and partially fails to muffle the sounds in the pillow. Ryan changes his angle a little, and suddenly he hits a spot that makes Alex cry out, too loud to be muffled.
“Oh-” Ryan gasps out suddenly, shoves into Alex and groans as he comes, breathing hard. It’s too much for Alex, and a second later, he’s spilling over his own hand, hips jerking. He collapses to the bed, vaguely aware of Ryan sliding off the bed. Ryan comes back with a towel, wearing his boxers again.
“I, um,” Ryan’s whispering, face a burning red. Alex swipes the towel over himself, tugs his boxers back on, Ryan standing next to the bed. “I’m sorry?”
“Sorry?” Alex echoes, doesn’t know whether to laugh or hide his face in shame.
“Unless that was okay,” Ryan adds hoarsely, “please tell me it was okay.” Alex is silent for a moment, open-mouthed. “Alex,” Ryan says, sounds like he might cry.
“It was okay,” Alex confirms gently, wants to touch Ryan’s face and kiss his lips and promise it’s okay it’s everything I want but I want more I’m so sorry. “Go to sleep, d’accord? Do not worry.”
Ryan breathes out a sigh of relief that makes Alex want to cry, this level of concern Ryan has for him, all these things about him that make Alex think that what he wants is vaguely possible, even if it can never happen.
He curls up in bed and tries to sleep, can’t stop feeling long enough to get close. Every time he moves, he can feel where Ryan touched him, like his hands left burning trails on Alex’s skin. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he spends most of the night looking across the room, wishing he could get up and snuggle in close to Ryan to sleep, wishing that Ryan never left his bed.
In the morning, there are no marks on Alex’s skin, and Ryan wakes up and complains about his headache and the flight they have to take, and it’s like it never happened.
Except when Alex is standing at the sink, washing his face after shaving, Ryan comes into the bathroom to grab his stuff, and as he passes, he brushes his fingertips over Alex’s bare hip. It’s gentle, so gentle, everything last night wasn’t except for little glimpses that took Alex’s breath away, and in this moment, he knows all that happened, knows it’ll keep happening, and as Ryan’s fingertips skim over his skin, Alex is suddenly sure. This - there’s more to it than he understands, and the way Ryan touches him, so soft and gentle, the way he works himself into a frantic mess when he thinks Alex is unhappy, it’s like there was a whisper all last night that said we are not the way we should be, quiet because they’re getting closer, maybe they’re getting closer to what they’re supposed to be.
Alex walks back into the bedroom, tosses his shaving kit into his suitcase. Ryan’s zipping up his suitcase, his hair still wet from the shower, and for a second, Alex’s tempted to just blurt out I’m in love with you, you need to know that.
“Ryan,” he says, and Ryan looks up, eyes serious like he’s expecting something. “Can I have the window seat?”
“I always give you what you want,” Ryan says, a tease in his voice. It’s true, so true, and last night, maybe it’s the beginning of him giving Alex what he wants, maybe this is a process and maybe it isn’t, maybe it’s waiting and maybe this is where they’ll stay, but whatever all this means, Ryan’s always going to be here in the morning, letting Alex steal things off his plate and choose what plane seat he wants and checking the bathroom and closet to make sure Alex didn’t leave anything behind.
“I know,” he says, even though what he’s really saying is I love you for that, and every now and then, Ryan smiles like he knows.
Pairing: Kesler/Burrows BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH
Rating: Explicit
Prequel to The Way We Always Were
Summary: One night, everything changes, in almost the right way.
I didn't know that last fic would get a prequel, but, now, there is one!
Also, my stupid work decided that 5 of my hours were "training" and therefore free. Fucking come on, guys, wasn't the WEEK of free training enough?
Written for xornej because she's awesome and deserves it :D And it was entirely her idea to write their FIRST TIME :D
They haven’t won like this in a while. They beat the Leafs five to nothing, with a hat trick for Ryan and the kind of cohesive playing that’s given them a new burst of hope for the season after two mediocre months. Most of the guys have come out to celebrate tonight, rowdy and ecstatic.
Alex’s spent most of the night at Ryan’s side, because - because that’s what he does, because Ryan’s all lit up with excitement after his hattrick, and Alex will never get enough of the way he smiles.
“Don’t you get tired of this taste,” he says, when Ryan comes back from the bar with another Kokanee, which Alex finds terrible. He steals the bottle to make sure of this, and yeah, still terrible. He’d think the relentless teasing alone would deter Ryan, because Kevin finds it hilarious that Ryan likes a BC beer.
“Impossible,” Ryan says, looks at him kind of lingeringly before he turns back to the rest of the guys, who are still loudly discussing NASCAR, for reasons Alex can’t follow. They seem to be arguing, though they agree that it sucks. Alex isn’t sure where he set his drink down. Around the third, he always seems to lose glasses really easily.
Eventually, they end up sitting at a booth with a bunch of their teammates, several of whom yell at Kevin as he claims that fly fishing is just throwing a string around like a moron.
“It’s like regular fishing!” Kevin says, “fucking stupid!”
“You only say that cos you can’t do it,” Ryan retorts. Alex doesn’t fish, but he’s inclined to like it, because he’s gone with Ryan a few times, and if fishing means hanging out in a boat with Ryan and laughing hysterically while Ryan gives him a lesson without knowing the names of any of the equipment, Alex loves fishing. Kevin’s still defending himself, and Alex tunes him out, leans into Ryan’s side a little. They’re always a little closer than anyone else, and when out drinking, Ryan doesn’t even notice if Alex goes a little farther. Alex nearly flinches in surprise, though, when Ryan sets a hand on his leg under the table, rubbing circles with his thumb as he yells at Kevin.
This is. Different. Alex squirms closer, struggles to stay still. But, oh, God, Ryan’s hand is right there on his thigh, and Alex is suddenly feeling really hot and short of breath.
“You’re either afraid of fish or water, at this point,” Ryan says to Kevin, who makes a face at him.
“I’m not crazy for thinking it’s a stupid sport!"
“It’s practically in the Olympics!” Mason exclaims.
“It’s not, though,” Cory replies, “like, not at all. What would they even judge you on?”
“How big the fish is? How long you can stay in the boat without falling out?”
“Is that usually a problem for you?”
Alex is having a hard time paying attention. He bites down on his lip to keep from making any sounds, struggles to keep his hips from twitching at the touch. He’s getting really hard, can feel himself blushing at the realisation, and oh, God, he should stop this before Ryan realises, his hand’s drifted higher, and he’s going to jerk it away if he realises how turned on Alex is.
“I, um,” Alex stammers out, about to ask Ryan to let him out of the booth or something, even though moving’s the last thing he wants. Except Ryan doesn’t hear him because Mason’s going on about how kayaks could totally drown people, and Alex thought Ryan would scoot so he was starting to get up, and oh, God, that little movement brought Ryan’s hand in contact with Alex’s erection. Alex tries to jerk back, but the wall’s right behind him, and Ryan’s hand is on his dick and he can’t so much as think, he should apologise or something but he’s fucking mortified. Oh, God, Ryan’s never going to talk to him again, Alex wants to die - but then Ryan looks at him, this smouldering look in his amber eyes, and then he rubs over the bulge of Alex’s erection very deliberately. Alex chokes on a moan, collapses against Ryan’s side.
“Seriously, Juice, did you have some traumatic experience with fish as a child?” Mason asks.
“Fish are just gross!”
“Don’t worry,” Lappy tells Kevin, very serious, “I’ll protect you from fish.” The other guys burst out laughing, but Kevin just smiles.
“Can you fish in a kayak, anyways?” Cory asks Mason.
Alex clenches his teeth, fighting to stay quiet. He doesn’t get what Ryan’s doing, why, doesn’t care, because he’s wanted everything from Ryan for years, and Ryan’s touching him and the whole world just stopped for that. It feels so good, this maddeningly slow touch, Ryan driving him insane, stroking him through his jeans with enough firmness for Alex to feel every second of it, too slow to do anything but drive Alex out of his mind.
Ryan looks at him again, and Alex wants to beg, plead for more more please, isn’t sure the words for how much he needs Ryan even exist. His hips twitch up into Ryan’s grip helplessly, desperation burning under his skin, he just needs more. He doesn’t get why Ryan is doing this, either, he’s never - never anything like this, never, has no idea how much Alex has wanted it. Is he just - for no reason? He can’t be out to embarrass Alex, not Ryan; anyone else, and Alex would be suspicious, but then again, anyone else and he wouldn’t be like this, achingly hard and fidgety with need.
“I think I’m gonna head back,” Cory says, “anyone else?”
“We will,” Ryan says, and Alex suddenly has a hard time breathing. What does that - does that mean something? He fidgets, trying to adjust himself so it’s not incredibly obvious, can feel himself turning red anyways. They scoot out of the booth, and Cory goes to find Dale, who said he wanted to go and then ran off to find his jacket.
“Dude,” Loo stops to talk to Ryan, “nice hattrick, fucking awesome.”
“Thanks, man.” They start talking about - something, Alex can’t pay attention. Ryan’s slipped a hand into Alex’s back pocket, and Alex is just dying.
“Okay, ready to go?” Cory reappears, and Alex nods. They finally leave the bar, flag down a taxi outside. Dale gets shotgun and Ryan ends up in the middle of the backseat. Cory leans forward to talk to Dale and the taxi driver, something about GPS, Alex doesn’t know, because Ryan is running his fingertips up and down Alex’s forearm, making Alex shiver. He wants to ask what are we doing, too afraid the question will turn into can we do more.
The ride to the hotel isn’t long, but it still feels like forever before they’re finally at the door of their room. Alex watches Ryan look for the card in his wallet, fidgety with energy. Just - what’s going to happen? Will they keep going? Fuck, he hopes they keep going. He’s so fucking hard, every nerve already on fire, desperate for more, because it’s Ryan, Ryan, Alex wants him so badly. Ryan finally gets the door open, and the second the door closes behind them, Ryan pushes Alex back against it, reaches down to rub Alex through his jeans.
“I want to-” Ryan starts, loses the rest of the words in a groan. He grinds his hips against Alex’s and Alex gets it, because oh, Ryan’s hard too, and there’s a raw neediness in his voice.
“Please,” Alex gasps out. He doesn’t care that this is a drunk, post-game-high hookup, what the fuck is he supposed to do, say no? He’s always wanted Ryan, and if this is how Alex gets him, at least he’s getting Ryan at all. Ryan tugs him over to the first bed, Alex’s, starts unbuttoning his own shirt. Alex quickly pulls off his own, fumbles with the button on his jeans. Ryan manages to get his belt and jeans off, tosses them over the side of the bed. Alex takes a second to just stare at him, Ryan on his knees on the bed in boxers, rubbing himself through his boxers.
“Fuck,” Ryan grinds out, “I don’t have - anything. To.” He sits back on his heels, bites his lip.
“I haven’t, with anyone,” Alex says. It’s true; he just. He can’t, can’t settle for anyone else when he wants one single person so badly.
“Cool,” Ryan brightens at that, “me neither.” Alex tries to hide his surprise, because he’d just assumed Ryan was sleeping with people; it would be easy for him. “So you want to, without. Anything.” Alex nods frantically, wants to stop discussing this already because he’s starting to be too touched by the way Ryan had to stop absolutely everything before being sure of what Alex wanted. Ryan hops off the bed to go into the bathroom, comes back with one of the lotion bottles. “Fuck,” he mumbles out as he looks over Alex, and oh, God, Alex never thought Ryan would look at him like this, like Ryan wants him. Ryan reaches for him, but all he touches is Alex’s hip, a light brush of his fingertips, so gentle, and suddenly, Alex isn’t sure he can do this. He needs this to be hard and fast and nothing like soft and close to what he really wants, he can’t stand a single reminder. He turns into his stomach, gives Ryan a hopeful look over his shoulder.
“Goddamn,” Ryan exhales, slides one hand into his own boxers. Alex squirms out of his own boxers, and Ryan shoves off his own, leans over Alex’s back and licks a long line up his spine. Alex buries a moan in the pillow, legs trembling. He can’t handle this if it’s slow, can’t have it resemble what he wants but can’t have, but oh God everything feels so good.
“Please,” he gasps out, and then finally, Ryan slides a finger into him. Alex cries out, a gasp Ryan thankfully can’t hear. By three fingers, he’s shaking, wants to beg and beg. He doesn’t get to that point, because then Ryan’s pushing into him, so fucking big, and Alex moans, his dick twitching eagerly. He can’t believe they’re actually doing this, Ryan’s inside him and Alex wants him so bad he could sob with it.
“‘S’ok?” Ryan asks, leans up and oh, God, he just kissed Alex’s shoulder, stubble rough against his skin. Alex trembles, desperate.
“Move, please, please,” he pleads, struggles to keep a hold of himself. Ryan leans back, thrusts into him deep. Alex reaches to fist himself as Ryan pushes into him in long, hard thrusts, the feelings crashing together and oh, Alex is going to go out of his mind with how good it is. He whimpers helplessly, tries and partially fails to muffle the sounds in the pillow. Ryan changes his angle a little, and suddenly he hits a spot that makes Alex cry out, too loud to be muffled.
“Oh-” Ryan gasps out suddenly, shoves into Alex and groans as he comes, breathing hard. It’s too much for Alex, and a second later, he’s spilling over his own hand, hips jerking. He collapses to the bed, vaguely aware of Ryan sliding off the bed. Ryan comes back with a towel, wearing his boxers again.
“I, um,” Ryan’s whispering, face a burning red. Alex swipes the towel over himself, tugs his boxers back on, Ryan standing next to the bed. “I’m sorry?”
“Sorry?” Alex echoes, doesn’t know whether to laugh or hide his face in shame.
“Unless that was okay,” Ryan adds hoarsely, “please tell me it was okay.” Alex is silent for a moment, open-mouthed. “Alex,” Ryan says, sounds like he might cry.
“It was okay,” Alex confirms gently, wants to touch Ryan’s face and kiss his lips and promise it’s okay it’s everything I want but I want more I’m so sorry. “Go to sleep, d’accord? Do not worry.”
Ryan breathes out a sigh of relief that makes Alex want to cry, this level of concern Ryan has for him, all these things about him that make Alex think that what he wants is vaguely possible, even if it can never happen.
He curls up in bed and tries to sleep, can’t stop feeling long enough to get close. Every time he moves, he can feel where Ryan touched him, like his hands left burning trails on Alex’s skin. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he spends most of the night looking across the room, wishing he could get up and snuggle in close to Ryan to sleep, wishing that Ryan never left his bed.
In the morning, there are no marks on Alex’s skin, and Ryan wakes up and complains about his headache and the flight they have to take, and it’s like it never happened.
Except when Alex is standing at the sink, washing his face after shaving, Ryan comes into the bathroom to grab his stuff, and as he passes, he brushes his fingertips over Alex’s bare hip. It’s gentle, so gentle, everything last night wasn’t except for little glimpses that took Alex’s breath away, and in this moment, he knows all that happened, knows it’ll keep happening, and as Ryan’s fingertips skim over his skin, Alex is suddenly sure. This - there’s more to it than he understands, and the way Ryan touches him, so soft and gentle, the way he works himself into a frantic mess when he thinks Alex is unhappy, it’s like there was a whisper all last night that said we are not the way we should be, quiet because they’re getting closer, maybe they’re getting closer to what they’re supposed to be.
Alex walks back into the bedroom, tosses his shaving kit into his suitcase. Ryan’s zipping up his suitcase, his hair still wet from the shower, and for a second, Alex’s tempted to just blurt out I’m in love with you, you need to know that.
“Ryan,” he says, and Ryan looks up, eyes serious like he’s expecting something. “Can I have the window seat?”
“I always give you what you want,” Ryan says, a tease in his voice. It’s true, so true, and last night, maybe it’s the beginning of him giving Alex what he wants, maybe this is a process and maybe it isn’t, maybe it’s waiting and maybe this is where they’ll stay, but whatever all this means, Ryan’s always going to be here in the morning, letting Alex steal things off his plate and choose what plane seat he wants and checking the bathroom and closet to make sure Alex didn’t leave anything behind.
“I know,” he says, even though what he’s really saying is I love you for that, and every now and then, Ryan smiles like he knows.