Smosh Fic: He'd Never Admit It (2 in 1)
Writer's block? *punches it in the face* I have defeated you, finally.
TItle: Blue Scarf
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ian/Anthony (friendship)
Genre/Warnings: Fluff
Summary: Anthony's going on a trip. Ian's going to be so damn lonely.
“I’ll only be gone two months, tops,” Anthony said, slinging his carry-on over his shoulder. The airport was buzzing; the hum of chatter hovered around their ears and the echoing vastness of the place made Ian feel particularly small in the dense crowd of people.
“You didn’t buy a return ticket,” Ian accused, standing up from his seat. Anthony’s flight was being called in and they would have to make their way to the gate.
“Yeah… well,” Anthony shrugged and started walking. “I figured I might come back earlier. I don’t want to wait another month to get home.”
Ian nodded, following Anthony as they weaved through the crowds of people with their too big suitcases behind them. Each person that shouldered Ian gave him a look of frustration, as if bumping shoulders had caused their lives to become a major inconvenience. Ian didn’t disagree with them though; he felt like his life was headed towards days of imminent dread and boredom. He had almost lost Anthony when he had to stop to let a line of children scurry after their mother. But a hand on his elbow guided him back to his friend.
They got to the moving walkway, catching their breaths and minds away from the chaotic clutter outside of the line of order. Ian almost tripped, but Anthony held him up with another strong grip.
“Careful,” Anthony said and Ian shook him off, mumbling to himself that he was fine. His mood was on borderline depression and he wanted to be anywhere but here, in this airport, going with Anthony just to see him get on a plane that would take him across the world.
He was being a little overdramatic, Ian knew, but seeing how he was so tired from the past two months, filming ahead episodes for Lunchtime and Mailtime and he wasn’t even going to think about all the long hours put into the Smosh episodes. Ian had thought when they finished their impossible list of pre-filmed shows he would be relieved, satisfied, that this feeling of doom would subside. But then the reason for their chaotic scurry moved into the focus of Ian’s mind: Anthony was going to the Philippines to visit his family. And he was going to be gone for a long, long, time.
When they got to the gate, Ian couldn’t help but notice how out of place Anthony was; being one of the few non-Filipino getting their bags checked. He suppressed a chuckle as they glanced at each other, realizing just how unprepared the taller boy would be upon arrival.
“You sure you have to go?” Ian asked at a last attempt, forcing his hands to his side because if he could, Ian would drag Anthony back to their humble little home. Maybe even never let him out of his room. Ian would do crazy things if he let himself.
“Yes, Ian,” Anthony exasperated, “Quit being so annoying.”
Ian frowned. “Am not.”
Anthony rolled his eyes and dug into his bag for his boarding pass. The line was getting longer as more and more people arrived. Ian knew Anthony would wait to be the last, wanting to avoid the chaos and also, as Ian liked to think, to keep Ian sane.
He kept rummaging and looking and Ian wished deeply that Anthony wouldn’t find his pass. But, as he unravelled a blue scarf, the boarding pass was there.
“What the...?” Anthony said, opening the silk in his hands. “Geez, so this is where Leslie’s scarf went.” He handed the garment to Ian. “Would you give it to her?”
Ian made a face, throwing the scarf over Anthony’s head. He caught it before it flew behind him. “Hell no. I’m not gunna walk myself into that disaster.”
“C’mon,” Anthony whined, “My cousin’s that that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Ian said in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? She stalked me all the way home!”
“She was coming to drop off things for my trip.”
“Then she had the nerve to come into my room and -“
“I told her I left my laptop in your room and she went to get it.”
“And she wanted to look in my closet-“
“-to try and find her scarf.”
Ian looked at Anthony with narrow eyes. “Shut up, Anthony. Whose side are you on?”
He shrugged and zipped up his bag again. He held the scarf in his hand. The line was steadily disappearing and the time to say good-bye and have a safe trip was coming up at an awkward, too-fast pace.
“So,” Ian started, sticking his hands into his pockets. He was afraid he might grab Anthony’s bag and run off, laughing like a hyena stealing meat from a lion. He was going to be so lonely for the next two months.
This really sucked.
“You got the keys?” Anthony asked, readjusting the bag on his hip. The scarf dangled loosely near his elbow.
“Yes, dad,” Ian replied and took them out of his pocket, jingling them in midair between them. Anthony rolled his eyes.
“Good. Don’t want you locked out of the house for two months.”
“I’m not stupid, Ant,” Ian bit back at the smirk plastered proudly on Anthony’s lips.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Anthony teased and pinched Ian’s shoulder, earning him a yelp of pain. He patted the spot and Ian knew Anthony had to go, his pained face turning into a frown. “Okay, man, I better get going.”
Ian nodded. “Alright,” he said solemnly, bouncing on his heels and wondering what in the world was he supposed to do with two months of nothing. Editing, playing Xbox and staring at Charlie’s cage didn’t seem very appealing if it meant he would be alone the whole time.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Anthony warned and pulled Ian into a one-armed hug, clapping him firmly on the back.
“You too,” Ian replied into his ear, smelling the citrus shampoo they shared in Anthony’s neck. He suddenly had the urge to go home and take the bottle and just sit and smell it all day long. He laughed mentally at the thought, banishing it away when they pulled apart.
They smiled at each other, Anthony’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly before going back to his side, his fingers grazing briefly Ian’s forearm. He was already missing his friend as Anthony turned around, dragging his duffle and himself towards the waiting attendant.
Ian frowned, his heart dropping and slowing as if he was dying. And maybe he was a little because he knew he would absolutely diminish spending the next few weeks alone. He let out a long sigh, hoping to get his chest to move again as he watched Anthony talk to the attendant.
Just then, when it looked like everything was settled and Anthony would head into the gate, his friend turned around. The flight attendant nodded, seeming to allow Anthony to go ahead and talk to Ian.
“What’s up? Something wrong?” Ian called. There was a little jump-start in his body, wishing and thinking that maybe Anthony wasn’t going after all. He let himself smile at the thought.
Anthony shook his head, walking towards him with a crooked smile. Ian met him halfway, interested at what Anthony wanted so close to the time of his flight. He cocked his head in question as they met, so ready to just take Anthony’s arm and head on over back home.
But before Ian could voice his question again, the blue scarf was wrapped over his face and he scrunched his eyes closed, surprised at the unexpected assault. Anthony was laughing and batted away Ian’s hands when he made to grab his friend.
“What the hell, Anthony?” Ian glared through the silk.
“Give it to Leslie, alright?” Anthony said, adjusting the atrocious garment around Ian’s neck. He leaned in close, smirk so smug that Ian wanted to slap the offending expression off his face.
“I don’t wanna,” Ian whined and tugged but Anthony again grabbed Ian’s hands in his. “Anthony!”
“Just do it, you big baby,” Anthony huffed, keeping his laughter inside as they struggled against each other. Ian probably looked ridiculous; red faced and wearing a girly scarf, fighting with his best friend.
Finally Ian relented, smiling in defeat. “Fine,” he said exasperated, “I’ll give it to the crazy lady.”
“That’s a good boy,” Anthony nodded and laughed, patting down Ian’s mused hair as Ian grimaced. “Okay, gotta go now, bro.”
And Anthony gave him another hug, this time with both arms with the duffle swinging off to the side and hitting Ian’s hip too hard.
“I’ll miss you,” Anthony whispered teasingly, so soft and light into Ian’s ear that Ian thought he hadn’t heard it. Because it registered after, much after Ian felt a warmth press deep into the side of his cheek: moist lips and a fresh shaven chin.
What the fuck?
And Anthony practically ran from him, looking briefly at Ian’s surprised face with a look of glee and mischievous mirth before turning quickly back to the boarding gate.
At the last second, with Ian’s vision still swimming and his face heating up with fire, the skin that was touched tingling and aching, Anthony turned around and flashed him a toothy grin at the door.
“Bye, Ian!” he called too happily, waving and almost dancing away out of sight as the flight attendant closed the door.
Ian just stood there for a few seconds; his ear filled with the thumping of his heart and the skin on his cheek burning and pulsating with the ghostly feel of Anthony’s lips. He frowned, tentatively touching the spot where Anthony… where Anthony had… kissed him.
“What the hell was that for?” Ian wondered aloud, only slightly grossed out when he snapped himself out of his confused daze.
What a weird thing to do, Ian thought. But he guessed it was okay as he shrugged and started to make his way out of the airport. He guessed Anthony was just messing with him and Ian also guessed it had made him feel a bit better. Only a little bit.
Not that he liked the kiss in particular.
He’d never admit to that.
It just made Ian feel good that Anthony was going to miss him. And as Ian took the escalator down to the main floor, he smiled, feeling goofy and optimistic about the coming lonely two months.
“Nice scarf,” someone commented sarcastically on the escalator going up.
Ian turned red and ripped the blue silk off his neck, stuffing it under his arm.
“Damnit, Padilla,” Ian growled quietly, thoughts of revenge swimming in his head.
Already, he could not wait for Anthony to come back home.
*************************
TItle: Tummy Troubles
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ian/Anthony (friendship)
Genre/Warnings: Fluff
Summary: "Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him."
If Ian had to choose between food or Anthony, he would probably say food. Then he would watch as his friend looked at him in disappointment or anger, maybe even betrayal. But he’s only saying it. It’s not what Ian really means.
Because if it meant starving or being without Anthony in the world, he’d probably let his stomach empty until only acid sloshed inside.
Of course, he’d never admit it.
“Wipe that dumbass smile off your face, you douche,” Anthony growled, clutching his tummy in pain. They were in the hospital; Anthony in a bed wearing a papery gown and his mismatched socks sticking out of the sheets. Ian could feel his own stomach disagreeing with him, rumbling and grumbling for sustenance.
“What?” Ian asked, leaning back in his chair beside the bed. He stretched out his hungry pains. “You should be thanking me.”
Anthony opened his mouth in retort but grimaced, as another bout of pain seemed to weave through him. “Fuck my life!” Anthony cried, his skin glazed over by a thin sheet of cold sweat. “Gah, I want to die.”
“Relax, Ant,” Ian said and stood up to sit slowly in the bed with Anthony. “The doctor said a nurse is gunna come by and fix you up.”
“Not fast enough, Ian,” Anthony whined, doubling over again, cringing and grunting in discomfort. His face was blotchy and pale with hair that stood up in all ways and matte over his wet forehead. Ian thought Anthony looked like a Saiyan, about to release a gigantic load of kamehameha. Except, Anthony looked more constipated than powerful.
Ian was hungry, as his stomach reminded him again with a low growl that only he heard. They had been in the emergency ward for over four hours, waiting and waiting and getting ready for Anthony's so-important emergency surgery. They had missed lunch, not to mention uploading Lunchtime as well. He was getting angry tweets from their fans and his empty stomach was crumbling war within him.
“I’ll go see what’s up,” Ian suggested, hoping for food but Anthony shook his head, wincing when Ian’s hip hit his side the wrong way.
“Sorry. You okay?”
Anthony gave him a look, pointedly saying ‘no, of course not, you bitch’. "Just... don't move." He moaned, closing his eyes and his knuckles turning white as his fingers tensed into a fist. Ian patted Anthony's fist, nudging it to relax but Anthony only shot him daggers, taking Ian's offending hand in his and crushing it. Ian yelped in pain, cursing at his friend before being released.
"What the hell was that for?" Ian cried, pouting and cradling his hurt hand. "That freakin' hurt!"
Geez, Anthony could be so mean sometimes.
"Shut up," Anthony growled and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Don't be a baby."
Ian scoffed, "Me? A baby?" He dared to wiggle his hip right into Anthony's side, earning him a slap in the chest that was supposedly a pathetic attempt to push Ian out of the bed. "You're the baby, you bitch! If you had went to the doctor when I told you to, we wouldn't be here."
"Argh!" Anthony complained, scratching at Ian's forearm. "If my appendix bursts before this is over, I'm going to kill you."
"Then don't hurt me!"
"You hit me first!'
"That was an accident, you asshole."
"Fuck you. No one told you to sit on my bed. There's a freakin' chair right over there."
"Well... the chair sucks. And I'm bored."
"So you decided to come and sit on me?"
"Yeah."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
"Retard."
"Bitch!"
"I already said that."
"Uh... w-well... screw you!"
"...Nice."
They stared each other down, brown eyes rimmed with redness from exhaustion striking into cool blue ones that weren't as serious as Anthony's.
Ian's stomach growling broke the tension.
"I'm hungry." Ian frowned, patting his stomach and Anthony laughed, or at least tried to. He ended up groaning with tears welling up in his eyes from pain. His hand wrapped tight around Ian's wrist and Ian let him hold on until the wave of pain relaxed.
"I know," Anthony said and relaxed his fingers, letting colour drain back into Ian's hand. "But you're not allowed to go until the nurse comes."
Ian huffed, "Dude, I'm starving. How about I go look for the nurse and get food, yeah?"
"No," Anthony said sternly, and grabbed Ian's hood when the other made to stand up. "I'm not staying in this room myself."
"Aww... Anthony, you scared?" Ian teased, wiggling his finger and cooing at Anthony like he was a child.
"You're sick," Anthony pulled a face, and tugged hard at Ian's hood, momentarily gagging the lighter haired boy and with his other hand, squeezing Ian's wrist too tight. "Grr! Where's the fucking nurse?"
"Right here, boys."
The two turned to see a man, in his early thirties most likely, in dark purple scrubs with his hands folded and leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door, like he had been comfortable there for the last ten minutes. Ian's face warmed, shaking off Anthony's hand too quickly and standing up. He saw Anthony jolt too in small surprise.
Ian laughed nervously and made way for the blonde nurse. "Didn't see you there," Ian remarked, only a little embarrassed. It wasn't everyday that Ian and Anthony acted like jackasses without a camera. Usually, the camera let them boldly do silly things, hiding behind lenses that amplified their stupidity.
"It's alright," the nurse said as he walked over between Ian and Anthony. "I'm Jimmy, your nurse for the pre-op. How are you feeling, Mister Padilla?"
Anthony answered meekly, "Fine."
Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head, catching Anthony's gaze from over the third man's shoulder. He mouthed the word 'pussy' which earned him a soft growl from his friend.
"Everything alright between you two?" Jimmy asked, grinning and looking over at Ian. His gray eyes glinted in the florescent light, a sort of tease that shone in those depths. Ian mumbled that it was nothing and sat himself down at Anthony's feet.
"So," Jimmy began, clapping his hands together. He gave Ian a big smile, all white teeth and gums. "Dr. Davenia has walked you through the procedure, right?" Anthony nodded. "It's just a simple appendectomy. I'll be checking your vitals and then administering anaesthesia. Do you have any questions?"
Anthony shook his head, his complaints and cries suddenly silent and Ian frowned. He placed his hand round Anthony's foot as reassurance, using their 'best-friend-telepathy' to ask if Anthony was really all right, if he was scared and if he needed Ian for anything. Anthony looked down at Ian, his caramel eyes telling all Ian needed to know in one second.
The nurse turned his head to Ian in question after the odd moment of quiet.
Ian nodded. "No one... uh... no one..." he whispered, afraid to say the word but he couldn't think of another one. Ian was never good with euphemisms. "No one dies, right?"
Jimmy gave them another one of his smiles. "With every surgery, there are risks and possible complications," he started and Ian felt Anthony's toes tense and his own breath being held back, "But for simple surgeries like Anthony's, doctors can do them with their eyes closed and come out with perfect results."
Ian gulped and shared a somewhat relieved look with Anthony. His hunger feeling less jarring and overlapped with the wallowing feeling of anxious worries. Jimmy's too wide, all lip smile only smothered a little of Ian's concern for his best friend.
"There's nothing to worry about," Jimmy reassured and placed a firm hand on Anthony's shoulder.
Ian smiled uneasily and watched as the nurse fiddled with Anthony's IV, pressing buttons and shifting through drawers. He looked over at Anthony, whose eyes were cast downward and his head hanging low.
Ian guessed Anthony really was scared.
"Hey, Anthony," Ian called again, thinking up of a way to take Anthony’s mind off the matter at hand. "Anthony."
He looked up, his voice small, asking, "What?"
"Let's take a picture!" Ian grinned and took out his Android. Anthony instantly grimaced, shaking his head. "C'mon, please?"
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Why?"
"Because," Ian started, “To remember. And it’ll make a funny picture.”
“So I can remember how shitty I feel right now?” Anthony whispered furiously, turning his head away when Ian pointed his phone in his direction. “No way.”
Ian thought he heard Jimmy suppress a laugh. “Aw, c’mon, Ant!”
“I’ll take the picture for you if you’d like,” Jimmy added, finishing hanging a clear bag on the IV rack.
“Yeah!” Ian handed his phone to the nurse and plopped himself onto Anthony’s bed. Anthony cried out in pain but Ian told him to suck it up and just smile. Jimmy shook his head and snapped a few pictures despite Anthony’s constant complaints and cries.
“These are great,” the nurse commented, handing the phone back to Ian.
“Don’t encourage him,” Anthony said to Jimmy and scowled at Ian, “And someone should kick your ass ‘cause it keeps sitting on me.”
“You can do that later,” Ian dismissed Anthony as he flipped through the pictures, laughing to himself at how stupid Anthony looked. This time, Jimmy ‘s chuckles escaped and Ian turned to Anthony, teasing him that even the nurse thought he was ugly.
“Okay, okay, settle down,” Jimmy laughed, “All right, Mister Padilla, it’s almost time. I’m going to administer the anaesthesia soon after. Again, any questions?”
“No, please,” Anthony leered at Ian who was still laughing, “If it means the pain goes away and I don’t have to look at this idiot anymore, please.”
“Oh, shut up, Ant,” Ian said, snaking an arm around Anthony’s head in an attempt to hug and jostle his hurting friend. “I’m starving for you, so appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Jimmy smiled warmly and excused himself briefly as he left the room, coming back in with a team of nurses and Anthony’s surgeon. There was another brief run over of what was going to happen. Ian’s stomach grumbled several times above Anthony’s head and he had to pull at Anthony’s hair to wipe off that proud smirk on his face. Ian knew he should probably be nicer since Anthony was going under the knife and all.
Jimmy had a needle in his hand when the talk was over, poised over the tube that lead to the IV in Anthony’s arm. Another nurse gestured for Ian to get off the bed but Anthony’s hand set him back in place.
“No, don’t…” Anthony started shyly, staring up at Ian with wide eyes, a little fearful. Ian’s own eyes softened, learning something new about Anthony today. It was bad, how tempting it was to embarrass the hell out of Anthony’s fear of going into surgery.
“Is it okay if I stay here until he goes to sleep?” Ian asked Jimmy, linking his palm to Anthony’s. He was shaking, the pulse on the monitor high and beeping quick. Ian found it a little endearing that Anthony needed him. He might not make fun of Anthony now, but he would definitely do that once this was all over.
“Of course, if it helps,” Jimmy said and nodded to the other nurse. “Okay, Mister Padilla, can you count down from ten for me?”
“I’ll see you later, bro,” Ian said as Anthony counted, his eyes drooping closed as they locked gazes and his words slurring away.
Once Anthony went limp and the erratic beeps slowed to a levelled pace, Ian let go reluctantly, hopping off the bed and following the group as they wheeled Anthony out into the hallway. The squeak and roll of the stretcher loud in the quiet but bustling hospital. He went all the way to the double doors until a hand held him back on his shoulder.
“That’s as far as we can go,” Jimmy said.
“Ah… okay.” Ian fidgeted, not knowing where to go anymore. He should probably take care of his hungry stomach, but now it was twisting and tumbling inside of him with worry. The last thing he wanted to do was feed it. He chuckled a little inside, learning again, something new: Ian was afraid of Anthony going into surgery.
He wondered if Anthony was dreaming, or just completely gone. Ian had read somewhere that patients often hear voices, or hear the whole thing but feel nothing. And then he had watched movies where the patient felt everything. Ian prayed nothing like that would happen to Anthony.
And what about all those stories about people getting their tonsils taken out and dying on the table? God, Ian hoped, hoped so bad, that nothing except the damned appendix was going to drift out of life in that operating room.
“It’s nice, you two,” a deep voice beside him shook Ian back to the other side of the double doors. Ian had forgotten he was standing in the middle of the hallway with Jimmy. He looked up at Anthony’s nurse, his grey eyes staring in the direction of where Anthony disappeared. He smiled. “I can see you care for him a lot.”
Ian nodded, wiping his sweaty hands down his jeans in worry. “They’re not really gonna do this thing with their eyes closed, right?”
The nurse laughed, looking down at Ian. “Don’t worry,” he grinned, “We’ve got the best here in this hospital. I didn’t catch your name, sorry...?”
“Ian,” he answered, taking Jimmy’s warm hand in a shake. His hands were still pretty sweaty. “Thanks. I know it’s just a routine surgery, but y’know…”
Jimmy nodded in understanding, adjusting the stethoscope round his neck. “I would guarantee you that he’ll be fine, but then all that legal shit will be biting my ass.”
Ian laughed a little, liking the easy conversation with Jimmy. It did good, lightening his sudden dampening mood.
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive that everything will be fine.”
“Hope so,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair. They were still facing the door and Ian was staring at it, as if waiting for it to open and have Anthony walk out, healthy and not in pain anymore.
Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him.
Jimmy cleared his throat. “So, Ian… how long have you been together?”
“Huh?” Ian questioned, again being taken out of his thoughts. “Oh… uh, we’ve known each other since sixth grade.”
“Wow.” Jimmy seemed impressed. “That’s a long time.”
“Yeah,” Ian agreed absently. “How long is the recovery period again?”
The nurse told him that the normal recovery period would be four to six weeks as he started to lead Ian to the waiting room down the other end of the hall.
“He should be up and running in no time,” Jimmy said.
“He better,” Ian scratched his neck out of anxiety, thinking of the coming weeks and how much work Ian would have to do to handle Smosh while Anthony was bed-ridden. They were not prepared for this kind of emergency.
“Do you need anything? Coffee? A magazine to read?” Jimmy offered as they stopped in front of the entrance of the room. Almost everyone in the room had their heads down, or hands clasped tight. Ian was a little hesitant to enter, feeling the atmosphere fill his despairing emotions even more.
“Uh… it’s alright. I’m good, thanks.” Ian eyed the mother in the corner, crying silently and doing a poor job of it. Every little while, a sob would burst from between her tear-soaked hands.
Jimmy gave Ian an apologetic look. “Maybe you want to head to the cafeteria?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ian said relieved. He followed the man down the hall again.
“To be honest,” Jimmy started, waving to a few nurses and making way for a running doctor. “Seeing you two, so young.” he continued slowly, quietly, “It gives me hope, y’know?”
Ian cocked his head in question, not really understanding, taking in the nurse’s sudden nervousness.
“It’s nice to see two people so happy and comfortable with each other,” he went on as they neared the elevators, “And I was beginning to think it would be impossible to find someone, anyone, as loving as the two of you.”
What? Ian came to a halt; hand in midair and mouth open to speak. But he was trying to decipher exactly what the man in front of him was trying to imply. His brows knit together then rose up into his hair.
“U-Uh... W-What-“
“It’s hard,” Jimmy interrupted, letting out a sigh as he pressed the button of the elevator. He turned around, hands in his pocket to look at Ian who was still trying to form words, tiny bouts of embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Being single. And not to mention old… and also being…” he whispered the next word, “…gay.”
Oh…
Oh!
Er…
Ian shut his open mouth, feeling incredibly at loss and guilty; guilty if he dared to make such an awkward personal moment between Jimmy and him even more awkward.
Ian could not believe what was happening.
He also couldn’t wait to tell Anthony for some weird reason.
“But when I saw you two,” Jimmy chuckled, warm and so hopeful and truthful, “I’m sorry. I saw that whole name-calling argument. But, yeah…” He smiled, shrugging. “It’s not so bad. I feel it’s okay. I don’t have to hate myself.”
Ian gulped, a sympathetic frown on his lips. “Hate yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry again,” Jimmy apologized, looking sheepish now. “I don’t mean to throw this out at you. I’m sure you know all about it. It’s hard being what we are, especially if it’s being it alone.”
Ian didn’t respond. He was still debating how he should proceed. How can he escape from his weird situation without hurting Jimmy?
“Do you love him?”
What the hell? Who asks that? How was Ian supposed to answer that?
Ian hesitated, flabbergasted to be exact. Here was a stranger, spilling out a heartfelt confession and asking him really odd questions. Ian felt he owed Jimmy one, especially since he had been so accommodating. He didn’t want Jimmy to get the wrong idea about Anthony and him. He definitely didn’t want anyone to think... that and Ian was seriously questioning how he should act around his best friend now.
Gah, Ian shouldn’t be too surprised himself, thinking back now. He and Anthony… sometimes they could blur the lines. Too much, apparently.
Ian sighed, seeing the expression on the nurse’s face melted Ian’s pride. He owed Jimmy something. Even if it wasn’t exactly the whole truthful picture.
So Ian nodded, deciding a little warily that he would go along. Save Jimmy some face. Suck it up and smile.
“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, a blush blossoming but his voice sturdier when the next few words formed in his head, “I love him.”
And... That was the truth, Ian realized, smiling now. “I love him a lot. Even when he’s being a bitch.”
Jimmy’s gray eyes lit up with a sparkle, looking lighter and laughed. And a sense of happiness and accomplishment washed away Ian’s worry.
“He loves you, too,” Jimmy said confidently, “I can tell.”
And Ian laughed too, heart swelling and quickening, and nervousness leaving slowly. Ian was finally hungry again, eager to go to the cafeteria with Jimmy. He looked back to the doors down the hall, where Anthony was probably dreaming.
“I know.”
Want more Smosh slash?
TItle: Blue Scarf
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ian/Anthony (friendship)
Genre/Warnings: Fluff
Summary: Anthony's going on a trip. Ian's going to be so damn lonely.
“I’ll only be gone two months, tops,” Anthony said, slinging his carry-on over his shoulder. The airport was buzzing; the hum of chatter hovered around their ears and the echoing vastness of the place made Ian feel particularly small in the dense crowd of people.
“You didn’t buy a return ticket,” Ian accused, standing up from his seat. Anthony’s flight was being called in and they would have to make their way to the gate.
“Yeah… well,” Anthony shrugged and started walking. “I figured I might come back earlier. I don’t want to wait another month to get home.”
Ian nodded, following Anthony as they weaved through the crowds of people with their too big suitcases behind them. Each person that shouldered Ian gave him a look of frustration, as if bumping shoulders had caused their lives to become a major inconvenience. Ian didn’t disagree with them though; he felt like his life was headed towards days of imminent dread and boredom. He had almost lost Anthony when he had to stop to let a line of children scurry after their mother. But a hand on his elbow guided him back to his friend.
They got to the moving walkway, catching their breaths and minds away from the chaotic clutter outside of the line of order. Ian almost tripped, but Anthony held him up with another strong grip.
“Careful,” Anthony said and Ian shook him off, mumbling to himself that he was fine. His mood was on borderline depression and he wanted to be anywhere but here, in this airport, going with Anthony just to see him get on a plane that would take him across the world.
He was being a little overdramatic, Ian knew, but seeing how he was so tired from the past two months, filming ahead episodes for Lunchtime and Mailtime and he wasn’t even going to think about all the long hours put into the Smosh episodes. Ian had thought when they finished their impossible list of pre-filmed shows he would be relieved, satisfied, that this feeling of doom would subside. But then the reason for their chaotic scurry moved into the focus of Ian’s mind: Anthony was going to the Philippines to visit his family. And he was going to be gone for a long, long, time.
When they got to the gate, Ian couldn’t help but notice how out of place Anthony was; being one of the few non-Filipino getting their bags checked. He suppressed a chuckle as they glanced at each other, realizing just how unprepared the taller boy would be upon arrival.
“You sure you have to go?” Ian asked at a last attempt, forcing his hands to his side because if he could, Ian would drag Anthony back to their humble little home. Maybe even never let him out of his room. Ian would do crazy things if he let himself.
“Yes, Ian,” Anthony exasperated, “Quit being so annoying.”
Ian frowned. “Am not.”
Anthony rolled his eyes and dug into his bag for his boarding pass. The line was getting longer as more and more people arrived. Ian knew Anthony would wait to be the last, wanting to avoid the chaos and also, as Ian liked to think, to keep Ian sane.
He kept rummaging and looking and Ian wished deeply that Anthony wouldn’t find his pass. But, as he unravelled a blue scarf, the boarding pass was there.
“What the...?” Anthony said, opening the silk in his hands. “Geez, so this is where Leslie’s scarf went.” He handed the garment to Ian. “Would you give it to her?”
Ian made a face, throwing the scarf over Anthony’s head. He caught it before it flew behind him. “Hell no. I’m not gunna walk myself into that disaster.”
“C’mon,” Anthony whined, “My cousin’s that that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Ian said in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? She stalked me all the way home!”
“She was coming to drop off things for my trip.”
“Then she had the nerve to come into my room and -“
“I told her I left my laptop in your room and she went to get it.”
“And she wanted to look in my closet-“
“-to try and find her scarf.”
Ian looked at Anthony with narrow eyes. “Shut up, Anthony. Whose side are you on?”
He shrugged and zipped up his bag again. He held the scarf in his hand. The line was steadily disappearing and the time to say good-bye and have a safe trip was coming up at an awkward, too-fast pace.
“So,” Ian started, sticking his hands into his pockets. He was afraid he might grab Anthony’s bag and run off, laughing like a hyena stealing meat from a lion. He was going to be so lonely for the next two months.
This really sucked.
“You got the keys?” Anthony asked, readjusting the bag on his hip. The scarf dangled loosely near his elbow.
“Yes, dad,” Ian replied and took them out of his pocket, jingling them in midair between them. Anthony rolled his eyes.
“Good. Don’t want you locked out of the house for two months.”
“I’m not stupid, Ant,” Ian bit back at the smirk plastered proudly on Anthony’s lips.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Anthony teased and pinched Ian’s shoulder, earning him a yelp of pain. He patted the spot and Ian knew Anthony had to go, his pained face turning into a frown. “Okay, man, I better get going.”
Ian nodded. “Alright,” he said solemnly, bouncing on his heels and wondering what in the world was he supposed to do with two months of nothing. Editing, playing Xbox and staring at Charlie’s cage didn’t seem very appealing if it meant he would be alone the whole time.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Anthony warned and pulled Ian into a one-armed hug, clapping him firmly on the back.
“You too,” Ian replied into his ear, smelling the citrus shampoo they shared in Anthony’s neck. He suddenly had the urge to go home and take the bottle and just sit and smell it all day long. He laughed mentally at the thought, banishing it away when they pulled apart.
They smiled at each other, Anthony’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly before going back to his side, his fingers grazing briefly Ian’s forearm. He was already missing his friend as Anthony turned around, dragging his duffle and himself towards the waiting attendant.
Ian frowned, his heart dropping and slowing as if he was dying. And maybe he was a little because he knew he would absolutely diminish spending the next few weeks alone. He let out a long sigh, hoping to get his chest to move again as he watched Anthony talk to the attendant.
Just then, when it looked like everything was settled and Anthony would head into the gate, his friend turned around. The flight attendant nodded, seeming to allow Anthony to go ahead and talk to Ian.
“What’s up? Something wrong?” Ian called. There was a little jump-start in his body, wishing and thinking that maybe Anthony wasn’t going after all. He let himself smile at the thought.
Anthony shook his head, walking towards him with a crooked smile. Ian met him halfway, interested at what Anthony wanted so close to the time of his flight. He cocked his head in question as they met, so ready to just take Anthony’s arm and head on over back home.
But before Ian could voice his question again, the blue scarf was wrapped over his face and he scrunched his eyes closed, surprised at the unexpected assault. Anthony was laughing and batted away Ian’s hands when he made to grab his friend.
“What the hell, Anthony?” Ian glared through the silk.
“Give it to Leslie, alright?” Anthony said, adjusting the atrocious garment around Ian’s neck. He leaned in close, smirk so smug that Ian wanted to slap the offending expression off his face.
“I don’t wanna,” Ian whined and tugged but Anthony again grabbed Ian’s hands in his. “Anthony!”
“Just do it, you big baby,” Anthony huffed, keeping his laughter inside as they struggled against each other. Ian probably looked ridiculous; red faced and wearing a girly scarf, fighting with his best friend.
Finally Ian relented, smiling in defeat. “Fine,” he said exasperated, “I’ll give it to the crazy lady.”
“That’s a good boy,” Anthony nodded and laughed, patting down Ian’s mused hair as Ian grimaced. “Okay, gotta go now, bro.”
And Anthony gave him another hug, this time with both arms with the duffle swinging off to the side and hitting Ian’s hip too hard.
“I’ll miss you,” Anthony whispered teasingly, so soft and light into Ian’s ear that Ian thought he hadn’t heard it. Because it registered after, much after Ian felt a warmth press deep into the side of his cheek: moist lips and a fresh shaven chin.
What the fuck?
And Anthony practically ran from him, looking briefly at Ian’s surprised face with a look of glee and mischievous mirth before turning quickly back to the boarding gate.
At the last second, with Ian’s vision still swimming and his face heating up with fire, the skin that was touched tingling and aching, Anthony turned around and flashed him a toothy grin at the door.
“Bye, Ian!” he called too happily, waving and almost dancing away out of sight as the flight attendant closed the door.
Ian just stood there for a few seconds; his ear filled with the thumping of his heart and the skin on his cheek burning and pulsating with the ghostly feel of Anthony’s lips. He frowned, tentatively touching the spot where Anthony… where Anthony had… kissed him.
“What the hell was that for?” Ian wondered aloud, only slightly grossed out when he snapped himself out of his confused daze.
What a weird thing to do, Ian thought. But he guessed it was okay as he shrugged and started to make his way out of the airport. He guessed Anthony was just messing with him and Ian also guessed it had made him feel a bit better. Only a little bit.
Not that he liked the kiss in particular.
He’d never admit to that.
It just made Ian feel good that Anthony was going to miss him. And as Ian took the escalator down to the main floor, he smiled, feeling goofy and optimistic about the coming lonely two months.
“Nice scarf,” someone commented sarcastically on the escalator going up.
Ian turned red and ripped the blue silk off his neck, stuffing it under his arm.
“Damnit, Padilla,” Ian growled quietly, thoughts of revenge swimming in his head.
Already, he could not wait for Anthony to come back home.
*************************
TItle: Tummy Troubles
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ian/Anthony (friendship)
Genre/Warnings: Fluff
Summary: "Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him."
If Ian had to choose between food or Anthony, he would probably say food. Then he would watch as his friend looked at him in disappointment or anger, maybe even betrayal. But he’s only saying it. It’s not what Ian really means.
Because if it meant starving or being without Anthony in the world, he’d probably let his stomach empty until only acid sloshed inside.
Of course, he’d never admit it.
“Wipe that dumbass smile off your face, you douche,” Anthony growled, clutching his tummy in pain. They were in the hospital; Anthony in a bed wearing a papery gown and his mismatched socks sticking out of the sheets. Ian could feel his own stomach disagreeing with him, rumbling and grumbling for sustenance.
“What?” Ian asked, leaning back in his chair beside the bed. He stretched out his hungry pains. “You should be thanking me.”
Anthony opened his mouth in retort but grimaced, as another bout of pain seemed to weave through him. “Fuck my life!” Anthony cried, his skin glazed over by a thin sheet of cold sweat. “Gah, I want to die.”
“Relax, Ant,” Ian said and stood up to sit slowly in the bed with Anthony. “The doctor said a nurse is gunna come by and fix you up.”
“Not fast enough, Ian,” Anthony whined, doubling over again, cringing and grunting in discomfort. His face was blotchy and pale with hair that stood up in all ways and matte over his wet forehead. Ian thought Anthony looked like a Saiyan, about to release a gigantic load of kamehameha. Except, Anthony looked more constipated than powerful.
Ian was hungry, as his stomach reminded him again with a low growl that only he heard. They had been in the emergency ward for over four hours, waiting and waiting and getting ready for Anthony's so-important emergency surgery. They had missed lunch, not to mention uploading Lunchtime as well. He was getting angry tweets from their fans and his empty stomach was crumbling war within him.
“I’ll go see what’s up,” Ian suggested, hoping for food but Anthony shook his head, wincing when Ian’s hip hit his side the wrong way.
“Sorry. You okay?”
Anthony gave him a look, pointedly saying ‘no, of course not, you bitch’. "Just... don't move." He moaned, closing his eyes and his knuckles turning white as his fingers tensed into a fist. Ian patted Anthony's fist, nudging it to relax but Anthony only shot him daggers, taking Ian's offending hand in his and crushing it. Ian yelped in pain, cursing at his friend before being released.
"What the hell was that for?" Ian cried, pouting and cradling his hurt hand. "That freakin' hurt!"
Geez, Anthony could be so mean sometimes.
"Shut up," Anthony growled and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Don't be a baby."
Ian scoffed, "Me? A baby?" He dared to wiggle his hip right into Anthony's side, earning him a slap in the chest that was supposedly a pathetic attempt to push Ian out of the bed. "You're the baby, you bitch! If you had went to the doctor when I told you to, we wouldn't be here."
"Argh!" Anthony complained, scratching at Ian's forearm. "If my appendix bursts before this is over, I'm going to kill you."
"Then don't hurt me!"
"You hit me first!'
"That was an accident, you asshole."
"Fuck you. No one told you to sit on my bed. There's a freakin' chair right over there."
"Well... the chair sucks. And I'm bored."
"So you decided to come and sit on me?"
"Yeah."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
"Retard."
"Bitch!"
"I already said that."
"Uh... w-well... screw you!"
"...Nice."
They stared each other down, brown eyes rimmed with redness from exhaustion striking into cool blue ones that weren't as serious as Anthony's.
Ian's stomach growling broke the tension.
"I'm hungry." Ian frowned, patting his stomach and Anthony laughed, or at least tried to. He ended up groaning with tears welling up in his eyes from pain. His hand wrapped tight around Ian's wrist and Ian let him hold on until the wave of pain relaxed.
"I know," Anthony said and relaxed his fingers, letting colour drain back into Ian's hand. "But you're not allowed to go until the nurse comes."
Ian huffed, "Dude, I'm starving. How about I go look for the nurse and get food, yeah?"
"No," Anthony said sternly, and grabbed Ian's hood when the other made to stand up. "I'm not staying in this room myself."
"Aww... Anthony, you scared?" Ian teased, wiggling his finger and cooing at Anthony like he was a child.
"You're sick," Anthony pulled a face, and tugged hard at Ian's hood, momentarily gagging the lighter haired boy and with his other hand, squeezing Ian's wrist too tight. "Grr! Where's the fucking nurse?"
"Right here, boys."
The two turned to see a man, in his early thirties most likely, in dark purple scrubs with his hands folded and leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door, like he had been comfortable there for the last ten minutes. Ian's face warmed, shaking off Anthony's hand too quickly and standing up. He saw Anthony jolt too in small surprise.
Ian laughed nervously and made way for the blonde nurse. "Didn't see you there," Ian remarked, only a little embarrassed. It wasn't everyday that Ian and Anthony acted like jackasses without a camera. Usually, the camera let them boldly do silly things, hiding behind lenses that amplified their stupidity.
"It's alright," the nurse said as he walked over between Ian and Anthony. "I'm Jimmy, your nurse for the pre-op. How are you feeling, Mister Padilla?"
Anthony answered meekly, "Fine."
Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head, catching Anthony's gaze from over the third man's shoulder. He mouthed the word 'pussy' which earned him a soft growl from his friend.
"Everything alright between you two?" Jimmy asked, grinning and looking over at Ian. His gray eyes glinted in the florescent light, a sort of tease that shone in those depths. Ian mumbled that it was nothing and sat himself down at Anthony's feet.
"So," Jimmy began, clapping his hands together. He gave Ian a big smile, all white teeth and gums. "Dr. Davenia has walked you through the procedure, right?" Anthony nodded. "It's just a simple appendectomy. I'll be checking your vitals and then administering anaesthesia. Do you have any questions?"
Anthony shook his head, his complaints and cries suddenly silent and Ian frowned. He placed his hand round Anthony's foot as reassurance, using their 'best-friend-telepathy' to ask if Anthony was really all right, if he was scared and if he needed Ian for anything. Anthony looked down at Ian, his caramel eyes telling all Ian needed to know in one second.
The nurse turned his head to Ian in question after the odd moment of quiet.
Ian nodded. "No one... uh... no one..." he whispered, afraid to say the word but he couldn't think of another one. Ian was never good with euphemisms. "No one dies, right?"
Jimmy gave them another one of his smiles. "With every surgery, there are risks and possible complications," he started and Ian felt Anthony's toes tense and his own breath being held back, "But for simple surgeries like Anthony's, doctors can do them with their eyes closed and come out with perfect results."
Ian gulped and shared a somewhat relieved look with Anthony. His hunger feeling less jarring and overlapped with the wallowing feeling of anxious worries. Jimmy's too wide, all lip smile only smothered a little of Ian's concern for his best friend.
"There's nothing to worry about," Jimmy reassured and placed a firm hand on Anthony's shoulder.
Ian smiled uneasily and watched as the nurse fiddled with Anthony's IV, pressing buttons and shifting through drawers. He looked over at Anthony, whose eyes were cast downward and his head hanging low.
Ian guessed Anthony really was scared.
"Hey, Anthony," Ian called again, thinking up of a way to take Anthony’s mind off the matter at hand. "Anthony."
He looked up, his voice small, asking, "What?"
"Let's take a picture!" Ian grinned and took out his Android. Anthony instantly grimaced, shaking his head. "C'mon, please?"
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Why?"
"Because," Ian started, “To remember. And it’ll make a funny picture.”
“So I can remember how shitty I feel right now?” Anthony whispered furiously, turning his head away when Ian pointed his phone in his direction. “No way.”
Ian thought he heard Jimmy suppress a laugh. “Aw, c’mon, Ant!”
“I’ll take the picture for you if you’d like,” Jimmy added, finishing hanging a clear bag on the IV rack.
“Yeah!” Ian handed his phone to the nurse and plopped himself onto Anthony’s bed. Anthony cried out in pain but Ian told him to suck it up and just smile. Jimmy shook his head and snapped a few pictures despite Anthony’s constant complaints and cries.
“These are great,” the nurse commented, handing the phone back to Ian.
“Don’t encourage him,” Anthony said to Jimmy and scowled at Ian, “And someone should kick your ass ‘cause it keeps sitting on me.”
“You can do that later,” Ian dismissed Anthony as he flipped through the pictures, laughing to himself at how stupid Anthony looked. This time, Jimmy ‘s chuckles escaped and Ian turned to Anthony, teasing him that even the nurse thought he was ugly.
“Okay, okay, settle down,” Jimmy laughed, “All right, Mister Padilla, it’s almost time. I’m going to administer the anaesthesia soon after. Again, any questions?”
“No, please,” Anthony leered at Ian who was still laughing, “If it means the pain goes away and I don’t have to look at this idiot anymore, please.”
“Oh, shut up, Ant,” Ian said, snaking an arm around Anthony’s head in an attempt to hug and jostle his hurting friend. “I’m starving for you, so appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Jimmy smiled warmly and excused himself briefly as he left the room, coming back in with a team of nurses and Anthony’s surgeon. There was another brief run over of what was going to happen. Ian’s stomach grumbled several times above Anthony’s head and he had to pull at Anthony’s hair to wipe off that proud smirk on his face. Ian knew he should probably be nicer since Anthony was going under the knife and all.
Jimmy had a needle in his hand when the talk was over, poised over the tube that lead to the IV in Anthony’s arm. Another nurse gestured for Ian to get off the bed but Anthony’s hand set him back in place.
“No, don’t…” Anthony started shyly, staring up at Ian with wide eyes, a little fearful. Ian’s own eyes softened, learning something new about Anthony today. It was bad, how tempting it was to embarrass the hell out of Anthony’s fear of going into surgery.
“Is it okay if I stay here until he goes to sleep?” Ian asked Jimmy, linking his palm to Anthony’s. He was shaking, the pulse on the monitor high and beeping quick. Ian found it a little endearing that Anthony needed him. He might not make fun of Anthony now, but he would definitely do that once this was all over.
“Of course, if it helps,” Jimmy said and nodded to the other nurse. “Okay, Mister Padilla, can you count down from ten for me?”
“I’ll see you later, bro,” Ian said as Anthony counted, his eyes drooping closed as they locked gazes and his words slurring away.
Once Anthony went limp and the erratic beeps slowed to a levelled pace, Ian let go reluctantly, hopping off the bed and following the group as they wheeled Anthony out into the hallway. The squeak and roll of the stretcher loud in the quiet but bustling hospital. He went all the way to the double doors until a hand held him back on his shoulder.
“That’s as far as we can go,” Jimmy said.
“Ah… okay.” Ian fidgeted, not knowing where to go anymore. He should probably take care of his hungry stomach, but now it was twisting and tumbling inside of him with worry. The last thing he wanted to do was feed it. He chuckled a little inside, learning again, something new: Ian was afraid of Anthony going into surgery.
He wondered if Anthony was dreaming, or just completely gone. Ian had read somewhere that patients often hear voices, or hear the whole thing but feel nothing. And then he had watched movies where the patient felt everything. Ian prayed nothing like that would happen to Anthony.
And what about all those stories about people getting their tonsils taken out and dying on the table? God, Ian hoped, hoped so bad, that nothing except the damned appendix was going to drift out of life in that operating room.
“It’s nice, you two,” a deep voice beside him shook Ian back to the other side of the double doors. Ian had forgotten he was standing in the middle of the hallway with Jimmy. He looked up at Anthony’s nurse, his grey eyes staring in the direction of where Anthony disappeared. He smiled. “I can see you care for him a lot.”
Ian nodded, wiping his sweaty hands down his jeans in worry. “They’re not really gonna do this thing with their eyes closed, right?”
The nurse laughed, looking down at Ian. “Don’t worry,” he grinned, “We’ve got the best here in this hospital. I didn’t catch your name, sorry...?”
“Ian,” he answered, taking Jimmy’s warm hand in a shake. His hands were still pretty sweaty. “Thanks. I know it’s just a routine surgery, but y’know…”
Jimmy nodded in understanding, adjusting the stethoscope round his neck. “I would guarantee you that he’ll be fine, but then all that legal shit will be biting my ass.”
Ian laughed a little, liking the easy conversation with Jimmy. It did good, lightening his sudden dampening mood.
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive that everything will be fine.”
“Hope so,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair. They were still facing the door and Ian was staring at it, as if waiting for it to open and have Anthony walk out, healthy and not in pain anymore.
Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him.
Jimmy cleared his throat. “So, Ian… how long have you been together?”
“Huh?” Ian questioned, again being taken out of his thoughts. “Oh… uh, we’ve known each other since sixth grade.”
“Wow.” Jimmy seemed impressed. “That’s a long time.”
“Yeah,” Ian agreed absently. “How long is the recovery period again?”
The nurse told him that the normal recovery period would be four to six weeks as he started to lead Ian to the waiting room down the other end of the hall.
“He should be up and running in no time,” Jimmy said.
“He better,” Ian scratched his neck out of anxiety, thinking of the coming weeks and how much work Ian would have to do to handle Smosh while Anthony was bed-ridden. They were not prepared for this kind of emergency.
“Do you need anything? Coffee? A magazine to read?” Jimmy offered as they stopped in front of the entrance of the room. Almost everyone in the room had their heads down, or hands clasped tight. Ian was a little hesitant to enter, feeling the atmosphere fill his despairing emotions even more.
“Uh… it’s alright. I’m good, thanks.” Ian eyed the mother in the corner, crying silently and doing a poor job of it. Every little while, a sob would burst from between her tear-soaked hands.
Jimmy gave Ian an apologetic look. “Maybe you want to head to the cafeteria?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ian said relieved. He followed the man down the hall again.
“To be honest,” Jimmy started, waving to a few nurses and making way for a running doctor. “Seeing you two, so young.” he continued slowly, quietly, “It gives me hope, y’know?”
Ian cocked his head in question, not really understanding, taking in the nurse’s sudden nervousness.
“It’s nice to see two people so happy and comfortable with each other,” he went on as they neared the elevators, “And I was beginning to think it would be impossible to find someone, anyone, as loving as the two of you.”
What? Ian came to a halt; hand in midair and mouth open to speak. But he was trying to decipher exactly what the man in front of him was trying to imply. His brows knit together then rose up into his hair.
“U-Uh... W-What-“
“It’s hard,” Jimmy interrupted, letting out a sigh as he pressed the button of the elevator. He turned around, hands in his pocket to look at Ian who was still trying to form words, tiny bouts of embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Being single. And not to mention old… and also being…” he whispered the next word, “…gay.”
Oh…
Oh!
Er…
Ian shut his open mouth, feeling incredibly at loss and guilty; guilty if he dared to make such an awkward personal moment between Jimmy and him even more awkward.
Ian could not believe what was happening.
He also couldn’t wait to tell Anthony for some weird reason.
“But when I saw you two,” Jimmy chuckled, warm and so hopeful and truthful, “I’m sorry. I saw that whole name-calling argument. But, yeah…” He smiled, shrugging. “It’s not so bad. I feel it’s okay. I don’t have to hate myself.”
Ian gulped, a sympathetic frown on his lips. “Hate yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry again,” Jimmy apologized, looking sheepish now. “I don’t mean to throw this out at you. I’m sure you know all about it. It’s hard being what we are, especially if it’s being it alone.”
Ian didn’t respond. He was still debating how he should proceed. How can he escape from his weird situation without hurting Jimmy?
“Do you love him?”
What the hell? Who asks that? How was Ian supposed to answer that?
Ian hesitated, flabbergasted to be exact. Here was a stranger, spilling out a heartfelt confession and asking him really odd questions. Ian felt he owed Jimmy one, especially since he had been so accommodating. He didn’t want Jimmy to get the wrong idea about Anthony and him. He definitely didn’t want anyone to think... that and Ian was seriously questioning how he should act around his best friend now.
Gah, Ian shouldn’t be too surprised himself, thinking back now. He and Anthony… sometimes they could blur the lines. Too much, apparently.
Ian sighed, seeing the expression on the nurse’s face melted Ian’s pride. He owed Jimmy something. Even if it wasn’t exactly the whole truthful picture.
So Ian nodded, deciding a little warily that he would go along. Save Jimmy some face. Suck it up and smile.
“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, a blush blossoming but his voice sturdier when the next few words formed in his head, “I love him.”
And... That was the truth, Ian realized, smiling now. “I love him a lot. Even when he’s being a bitch.”
Jimmy’s gray eyes lit up with a sparkle, looking lighter and laughed. And a sense of happiness and accomplishment washed away Ian’s worry.
“He loves you, too,” Jimmy said confidently, “I can tell.”
And Ian laughed too, heart swelling and quickening, and nervousness leaving slowly. Ian was finally hungry again, eager to go to the cafeteria with Jimmy. He looked back to the doors down the hall, where Anthony was probably dreaming.
“I know.”
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