Collide
THIS IS THE SECOND FIC FOR ROSS I HAVE WRITTEN IN AS MANY DAYS.
AND IT'S LIKE, REALLY ONLY THE FIRST ONE IN A SERIES I THINK. WHICH IS REALLY FUCKING BIZARRE BECAUSE THESE AREN'T EVEN MY CHARACTERS AND I AM SO FREAKING CRAZY.
I LOVE YOU ROSS. THAT IS ALL.
Collide
By Tee
Tristan Ross really didn’t understand his life. Like really. The whole thing was this big mess and he was really sure it was all Blaine Anderson’s fault. Everything was Blaine Anderson’s fault. And even though he wasn’t fifteen years old anymore, Tristan still felt like his life was getting sucked into this vortex that kept him orbiting around Blaine Anderson. Not that he was complaining really. He loved Blaine more than he loved just about anything. The dude was his number one bro and had always been there for him even when he wasn’t. They were soul mates in a weirdly non-sexual way, which was probably why Tristan still had just a little animosity for Kurt who got to be with Blaine in all the ways Tristan couldn’t. Not that he really wanted to sleep with Blaine, like ever, because…weird. But Blaine was just this all consuming person in his life.
It had changed a little when Blaine had transferred to McKinley. Well, everything had changed then. He remembered how lost he had felt those first few days with no bouncing ball of Blaine-shaped teenage angst to care for. No one got him like Blaine had and without him, Tristan had felt like an entire part of him had been ripped away. Which had led to the hanging mournfully around Blaine’s old dorm room, which had led to spending far too much time with Eric (who seemed just as heartbroken as he did, albeit in a different kind of way) and having a lot of awkward conversations about the nature of love and how Blaine Anderson was kind of the biggest douche in the universe for sucking everyone in and then just throwing everything he had at one guy. Leaving the rest of them hanging.
“We should start a Blaine Anderson Survivor support group,” Tristan remembered remarking one night, pleasantly drunk and spread eagled on Blaine’s old bed. Eric had stared at him in that incredibly morose way of his, even if the sternness of the gaze was softening slightly with the alcohol. Thank God for whiskey. “We could have meetings to talk about our feelings. And there could be buttons. And a theme song,” Tristan continued, voice growing louder and more impassioned as he went.
“You are kind of insane,” Eric had remarked, his face scrunching up. Tristan was too tired and too drunk to try and deconstruct the look. So he just stuck his tongue out at Eric, because he was mature like that.
“Oh! Or. Or. Eric. Are you listening?” Tristan said, twisting his head to try and see where Eric had disappeared to. And all of a sudden Eric was right there over him, looking down at him with that same weird expression. Tristan flinched back, startled. He may have screamed a little in a way that wasn’t girlish at all. Never. “Don’t start using your Asian ninja skills on me, Amparo. I’m fragile and heartbroken and for the love of Zeus will you stop looking at me like that!”
Eric looked down on him for a few really long seconds and Tristan blinked up at him blearily. “Why are you always here?” Eric said after what seemed like a really, really long time. There was something almost painful in the way Eric had been looking at him and Tristan frowned deeply. He got that feeling that he did sometimes that he was missing something really important about what was going on around him. It kind of made him want to run away and listen to “Land Down Under” until he remembered how awesome he was. Because right now he felt like an idiot.
“I’m clinging to the last vestiges of my broken bromance,” Tristan answered after a second, with a somber sort of tone. Eric closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, looking like he was trying to keep from doing something violent. “Sometimes,” Tristan whispered, when the silence went on too long for him to be comfortable, “I pretend the sheets still smell of him. And I am transported to a world of--” Tristan was going to continue the thought, but Eric had placed a hand firmly over Tristan’s mouth.
“I really, really hate you,” Eric said, slowly and distinctly, like he was trying to convince himself of it more than anything else.
Tristan licked Eric’s hand in retaliation and completely missed how wide and startled Eric’s eyes went before his took his hand away. Tristan was too busy launching into his next speech. “I know. Dude, you hate everyone. But that’s okay. I totally respect your need to hate the world. I hate the world too. Well, parts of it. Not Men at Work or my dad or you know, the vortex of all joy and pain that is Blaine Anderson.” Eric grumbled something about death under his breath and went back to pout in his brooding corner. “But seriously, Eric,” Tristan continued, rolling over onto his stomach. “We should go and kidnap him. That is what I was trying to tell you.”
Tristan had passed out pretty quickly after that, but he remembered that night as the first time he noticed something had shifted. Like, the world was coming back into focus after the debacle of Blaine leaving him, but it was coming back wrong. Well, not wrong. Different.
“Eric,” Tristan said one afternoon, barging into Blaine’s….Eric’s dorm room with out pretense. “I think the very fabric of time had ripped. Or shifted. Something is very, very wrong here.”
Eric looked up from where he was lounging on his bed, apparently studying. Which, really? Studying? Weak. Eric looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in a practiced movement. “Why, hello, Tristan, come in. Please interrupt my life once again with your bat shit insanity.” Tristan flopped down next to Eric, poking him in the chest to get him to shift over. When Eric refused, Tristan just rolled his eyes and pressed into Eric’s side, trying to find a comfortable position. “For Christ’s sake,” Eric nearly growled. “Must you…”
“Must I what?” Tristan sighed. Eric didn’t reply and just muttered something dark and incoherent under his breath. Tristan shrugged and went on. “I’m telling you though, man. The world is fucked up now. Something is wrong. Because Blaine still isn’t here, but it’s not like…awful. Anymore. Isn’t that weird?” Tristan sighed deeply and hooked his chin over Eric’s shoulder, where he was focusing on his textbook with a crazy intensity.
Eric sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes. Very weird,” he said noncommittally. Tristan frowned and poked Eric’s ear. “God damn it, what the fuck do you want fro me?” Eric ground out, turning to Tristan and giving him this glare that made something inside of Tristan shrivel and go into a corner and cry.
Tristan opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then decided to press on with what he had intended to say, even if Eric was going to ritualistically murder him afterwards. “We’re friends, right?”
“What?” Eric blinked at him, looking completely startled.
For a reason he couldn’t completely understand, Tristan felt his cheeks heating up in a blush. “We…we’re friends, right?” he said again. “I like, lost my bro. And I didn’t really want to replace a bro with another bro, but it’s like…not a replacement. You’re like…a new bro. Different, but still awesome.” Eric stared at him hard, like he was trying to reach into his soul. It was really kind of creepy. “Dude, don’t use your Asian magical powers on me. It’s disconcerting, man.” Eric sniffed and looked away suddenly, looking…well, kind of sad. Tristan rolled his eyes and bumped their shoulders together. “I am trying to say that I like you, Eric. God.”
Eric got up suddenly, which had the side effect of throwing Tristan to the floor in a sprawl of limbs and bee-lined for the door. Tristan gaped after him and wondered what the hell he had said to piss Eric off. The door slammed so loudly that Tristan jumped. Five seconds later, it opened and Eric leaned his head back in. “We’re friends,” Eric said, in a quiet kind of way that Tristan had never heard before. “I…uh…like you too.” And then he was gone again. Fucking Asian voodoo.
“But this is your room,” Tristan called helplessly after him.
And things were weird but kind of awesome after that. Somewhere along the way, Tristan had stopped thinking of Room 101 as “Blaine’s Room” and it became “Eric’s Room” . And while he still felt the urge, he didn’t really need to bring up Blaine all the time. Because Eric was…well, a bro. A different kind of bro, but enough of a bro that Tristan didn’t feel the need to angst over Blaine so much. He was still heartbroken, but not as much as he was before. Eric was kind of weirdly quiet a lot, and had these super intense moments where he would leave suddenly or look at Tristan like he wanted to eat him or shoot him with lasers. But he let Tristan babble without judging him and when he did talk he would usually catch Tristan off guard in a way that we really awesome. Tristan was sure he was going to fuck it up somehow, because that was kind of what he did.
And then Eric had to go and be stupid and ruin fucking everything.
He should have known that something was seriously wrong when Eric was the one room barging and not Tristan. Tristan had been really getting into slaughtering the shit out of some aliens on Halo, when Eric was suddenly in his doorway, looking kind of crazy but really determined. Tristan was on his feet in an instant, and he grabbed Eric’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “What happened? Did someone die?” Tristan gasped. “Did you kill someone? Oh God, I don’t have the constitution to help bury bodies. I mean, I know I said we were bros, and we are, but I get really squeamish. I don’t do blood, dude. I can’t help you with that. I want to but I can’t. It isn’t happening-”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Eric said, pulling out of Tristan’s grasp and sitting heavily on the edge of Tristan’s bed. Tristan blinked at him, feeling, as usual, ridiculously lost. Eric looked a little lost himself. “God, this was stupid. This is stupid. I should go.” But he didn’t move.
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck, dude. You look like shit.”
Eric let out a broken kind of laugh and wiped his face with his hand. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, you silly shit,” Tristan said with a roll of his eyes. “You are normally very pretty. Or handsome. You’re supposed to say handsome with guys, right?” Tristan laid a hand on Eric’s shoulder and caught Eric’s eye. “You are very handsome, Eric. You very rarely look anything but stunning.” Tristan kind of failed at stuff sometimes, but he was an awesome bro. Like--amazing.
“You are such an idiot. Such a fucking oblivious ass,” Eric said, dropping his eyes to the carpet.
Tristan scoffed, flopping down on the bed beside Eric. “I’m so much smarter than you. And I’m not oblivious. I’m focused. On…other shit. Whatever. The end result is that I’m awesome and everyone wants a piece of the Rossman.”
Eric made some strangled kind of sound and stood up again. “You’re irresistible,” he deadpanned and started moving toward the door again.
Tristan made a frustrated sound and cut Eric off at the door. “What is up with you, man? I’m worried about you.” Tristan reached out and put a comforting hand on Eric’s shoulder, high up so that his fingers wrapped slightly around the curve of Eric’s neck.
“I was going to say something, but it’s stupid so I’m not. Can I leave?” Eric said quickly, his eyes screwed shut tightly.
“Dude, I’m not letting you go until I get some kind of answer. You are clearly not okay right now.” Tristan flicked Eric gently in the center of his forehead, which got Eric to open his eyes again. “Eric. My dearest bro. What. The fuck. Is up.”
Eric was doing that intense look thing again and for the first time Tristan met it levelly. Because he knew it was important. Something was happening here and he didn’t get it at fucking all, but he was going to try. In the name of brohood. “This is all your fault,” Eric said, sounding weirdly small and broken, which didn’t even make any sense, because this was Eric and he wasn’t any of those things. And then all of a sudden Eric’s hands were on his face, like just holding him there. Which was weird. And then Eric kissed him, which was decidedly weirder.
Tristan made a weird, breathy kind of sound that wasn’t girly (no not at all) but didn’t really know what to do. Eric’s lips were chapped and dry and warm against his. Tristan knew he should push Eric away, because he didn’t do this. They didn’t do this. He tried it once with Blaine and it was weird and kind of gross. But Eric was a different kind of bro than Blaine was and Tristan just kind of…went with it. Because there was something really desperate about the whole thing- the way Eric was grabbing his face and how hard he was kissing. Tristan gripped Eric’s shoulder a little tighter and for a reason he couldn’t understand pressed back against Eric’s lips.
As soon as he did though, Eric leapt back like he’d been burned. “I…sorry. Sorry. I’m… going now,” Eric stuttered out. Tristan stepped out of the way of the door, raising a questioning hand to his lips. He looked at Eric, who looked just as confused and wrecked as he felt. “I. God. Sorry.” And Eric was gone again, using his Asian powers of disguise to disappear.
“What?” he said eventually, but not a bro was around to hear him.
Tristan effectively went into hiding for three days. He managed to attend all of his classes, even, though he did beg out of Warbler’s rehearsal because there was no way he was going to risk that. Wes glared at him and didn’t believe his sudden case of tonsillitis, but Tristan ran away fast enough that he wasn’t murdered. There was only one class that he shared with Eric, and he lurked around the door until, lucky him, Eric had the same kind of thinking and didn’t show. Which was good. Right? It was good. Yeah. Definitely coming down on the side of good.
In his three days of self-imposed exile, Tristan just…thought. Or didn’t think. A lot of something was going on in his brain, and none of it was easy or really very nice. Stupid Eric. What a fucking asshole. Making him think about things like feelings. And really, what business did Eric have going and ruining brohood with sexy type feelings? If that was what he was having. And did Tristan really care if Eric had sexy type feelings for him? He was the Rossinator. That kind of thing should be expected. But he was also Eric who was a bro who made him laugh and didn’t really do the douchy things Blaine did on a regular basis. Eric was upfront about his asshole-ish tendencies. And yeah, Tristan liked Eric. Kind of a lot. As a bro. You know. Brohood.
So really, at the end of three days, Tristan hadn’t come to any conclusions that made him feel any better about anything. But he kind of missed going to Warblers rehearsal and he actually kind of missed Eric, even if things were all fucked up at the moment. So he tried giving Eric a call, which Eric never answered. Prick.
Then came the great text message war of 2011.
Tristan (4:35): So you’re like, totally in love with me, right?
Tristan (4:35): I didn’t mean that in a laughing at you way. It was an honest question.
Tristan (4:36): Because I’m not.
Tristan (4:36): Laughing.
Tristan (4:37): At you.
Tristan (5:04): Eric.
Tristan (5:05): Eric.
Tristan (5:06): Eric.
Tristan (5:07): ERIC.
Tristan (5:08): ERIC ERIC ERIC
Eric (5:08): Stop. Just stop.
Tristan (5:10): We need to do that talking thing.
Tristan (5:10): With talking.
Tristan (5:13): And words.
Tristan (5:14): About our feelings.
Tristan really wished he had more patience, but he didn’t. So when another ten minutes passed and he didn’t hear from Eric, he tromped down the hall and knocked on the door. “Eric. Hi. We need to talk.”
Tristan’s phone buzzed.
Eric (5:27): No. Go away.
“What, are you five?” Tristan cried, incredulously. “I’m right here.” Tristan waited. And then pounded again. “Open the door.”
“Go the fuck away, Tristan. I am effectively releasing you from brohood. Carry on with your life,” Eric shouted through the door. Tristan stared at the door with his mouth open for a long time. Then he went back to his room and wondered why he wanted to cry.
Eric, Tristan decided, was the biggest fucking asshole on the planet. He decided this between the hours of seven and nine the night of the great text message war of 2011. Tristan decided this after he had done not even a bit of crying girlishly into his pillow or lamenting that life sucked. And he definitely didn’t call Blaine. Not even a little bit.
“I hate you. You are the worst human being on the face of the planet. You’ve ruined my life.”
Blaine let out a odd sort of chuckle and made some kind of shushing noise. “I missed you too, baby,” Blaine replied in that sly joking tone of his. More seriously, but still light, “ Kurt and I are thinking of driving out to Westerville for the weekend. We are going to pick you and Eric up and take you kids to the movies. Like the loving parents we are.”
“Tristan is not my child,” Tristan heard Kurt say, sounding put out. “And Eric definitely isn’t.”
Tristan didn’t care about movies and Blaine being adorable to with his stupid boyfriend. “You left me. You left me and now things are awful. Eric kissed me and then he de-bored me and I may have spent the last hour listening to ‘Land Down Under’ on repeat and crying soft lady tears.”
“Not a word of that made any sense,” Blaine said. Tristan could picture the pinched look on his face. Oh Blaine. How lost he was without him.
‘I know,” Tristan said pitifully. He was going to start crying again. God damn it. Fucking Eric. With his stupid lips. Ruining his entire life.
There was some rustling on the other end of the line and a very clear, “Kurt, that is…” followed by a bit of a moan. Tristan slammed his head against his desk. The gay was out to get him. It was fucking everywhere. More rustling and then the sound of a door closing. “Sorry. So. Eric kissed you?”
“Yes. That was a thing that happened,” Tristan said, trying to keep from sounding hysterical. God, he was hysterical. A hysterical little girl. God, this sucked.
Blaine clucked his tongue. “So…uh…how do you feel about that?”
“How do I feel about it?” Tristan nearly shouted, throwing a hand up in the air. “I don’t know. He was my new bro since you had to go follow your stupid little boyfriend around and now he’s kissing me and not talking to me and I…” Tristan bit his lip. “I miss him. God damn it.”
“Oh my God,” Blaine sighed. “Okay. Okay. We can do this.”
“What are we doing?”
“Fixing this?”
“Oh. Great. Awesome,” Tristan sighed, and put his head in his hands. “I don’t even know what there is to fix. Or you know. How to deal with bros that suddenly want to suck on my face.”
Blaine made a few sounds like he wasn’t sure what to say and then let out a big puff of breath. “Do you want him to suck on your face more?”
“No! No. God. No,” Tristan cried out. Because no. He didn’t do that. He liked female shaped things. And Eric was all sharp and muscley and male shaped. Tristan thought he was really awesome, but definitely not in a face-sucking kind of way. Never like that. Not even a little bit. No.
“Okay. So you need to make him talk to you about this. And find a way back to being friends. Because God knows you need someone to take care of and Eric needs someone to make sure he doesn’t sit around and brood at walls or up trees all of the time.”
Tristan let out a choked little laugh. “Yeah. He really is fond of trees. I just started climbing up there with him. If you talk at him enough, he’ll get down on his own. And he only pushed me out once.” There was even a bit of a smile forming on his face. “It’s actually kind of cool up there. You can look down on everyone and throw acorns at them. Eric has like, really awesome aim. Super spectacular.”
“Oh my God,” Blaine said again, more scandalized. “This cannot be my life.”
“You’re not the one getting kissed by raving lunatics that don’t have the social graces to answer the door,” Tristan shot out, wondering why Blaine was just now starting to see how fucked up everything was.
“Just. God damn it,” Blaine sighed, laughing a little. Why was Blaine having hysterics? God, sometimes Tristan really hated the smug son of a bitch. “Tristan. Go. Talk to Eric. Kiss and make up.” And then he burst into a loud peal of laughter.
“I fucking hate you,” Tristan said. “You are dead to me, Blaine Anderson. You are dead to me.”
Tristan could almost feel the smug ass grin through the phone. “I love you, man. I really truly do. Call me back when you’ve figured all of this out. Oh, and I totally hid a spare key to the dorm room under your Twilight doll.”
“I love you, Blaine Anderson. I truly do. Madly and deeply,” Tristan said, fond tears pricking at his eyes as he picked up his Twilight action figure and pulled out the key. He was so joyful he wasn’t even going to correct Blaine that the correct term was action figure, because dolls were for little girls, duh.
“I know,” Blaine said. “Good luck, dude.”
At eleven o’clock on the night of the great text war of 2011, Tristan Ross forwent pounding on the door and just opened the fucker. Take that, Eric Amparo. Fuck yeah. Eric was sitting in his brooding corner, looking out the window as if the world was mocking him. It might be, for all Tristan knew. Which was not a whole lot at the moment.
“Hey,” Tristan said softly, waving a little at Eric. When did he become the most awkward person on the planet?
Eric looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and what looked like a grudging respect. “Hey.”
Tristan wanted to die. So much. There was no way he would survive this. The ground should open up and swallow him right now, thank you very much. “I…I would like to officially reject your dissolution of our brohood.”
“You can’t,” Eric said, frowning. “I am officially not a part of this anymore. Whatever it is.”
Tristan sighed and flopped back down on Blaine’s old bed. “Well, I am not going anywhere. So you should get used to it. Douche bag.”
“You are so fucking infuriating,” Eric said, his voice sounding sad and fond and hopeful all at the same time. It made Tristan kind of want to hug him. Which--weird.
He shook the feeling away and grinned at Eric as brightly as he could muster. “Yep. So. Now that we’ve got that whole bro thing covered, lets talk about the face sucking.”
Over in his corner, Eric cringed. “No. Worlds of no. Not happening.” This was so stupid. Eric was over there looking angry like usual, but also kind of sad and Tristan just wanted to fix it. And go back to chilling and talking to Eric about all of his stupid ideas and watching Eric be a total badass when he was dancing. Back to where they could just sprawl out on the couches in the common room and bitch about how awful Dalton was most of the time, but still kind of awesome even if Blaine left.
God damn it. Dealing with freaking girls was easier than this. And girls were impossible. Sighing Tristan got up off the bed and hopped up to sit on the desk right in front of Eric. Eric had a look like he was going to bolt again, so Tristan grabbed his shoulders firmly. “Eric. You are kind of my best friend. And if you are the kind of friend that wants to kiss me, I could probably be okay with that.” Eric looked at him like he had sprouted wings. Or grown a horn. Or something really awful happened to his face. Tristan had to touch it to make sure, and thank God, everything was as it should be.
“What does that even mean?” Eric said. He reached up and grabbed the front of Tristan’s shirt, shaking him a little. “I don’t even… I can’t…you are so…”
Tristan give an exasperated sigh. “I’m kind of at a big fucking loss myself, man.” Tristan didn’t know where all of these feelings. There were just so many of them and they were all kind of terrifying and just…dumb. It was all kind of stupid. “All I know is that I don’t want to not be around you. Okay? Is that okay?”
“I guess?” Eric said, shrugging a little. At least he didn’t look sad anymore. Just lost. “I…um. So.”
“Exactly,” Tristan replied, nodding. Because he had no fucking idea what to do now. Where they stood. What was going on here. Eric sighed, hanging his head. He still had his hands fisted in Tristan’s shirt and his shoulders were shaking a little. “If you are crying right now I am going to freak out.”
“I am not the sensitive little flower you are,” Eric said in his usual haughty tone, lifting his head and fixing him with a glare. Tristan couldn’t help but grin widely, and pull Eric into hug. Which Eric hadn’t anticipated apparently, since he just about squeaked. Tristan dropped his head to Eric’s shoulder and squeezed Eric tightly, despite the fact that Eric was as stiff as a board in his arms. After what felt like forever, Eric relaxed slightly, letting go of Tristan’s shirt and winding his arms tentatively around Tristan’s waist.
Tristan laughed a little, a short rough chuckle. “You suck at hugging it out, dude,” he breathed, shaking his head as best as he could without moving his head off of Eric’s shoulder.
“I hate you,” Eric sighed, but he clung to Tristan a little tighter and dropped his head against Tristan’s. It should have felt awkward to have Eric’s cheek kind of pressed against his, but Tristan thought it was actually kind of nice. Which was, you know, weird. But kind of okay. “Just so you know,” Eric said after what felt like a long time, in a quiet, gentle kind of voice, “I will probably try and kiss you again at some point. Because you drive me crazy.”
That should have made Tristan have some kind of mental breakdown, but he didn’t. It was…something. That wasn’t exactly bad. It just was. “I…might be okay with that.” Which was not what Tristan meant to say. But now that it was out there…well, it was kind of true. Huh. It wasn’t like Tristan was ready to have lots of really gay sex or anything. It was just…Eric was cool. And kind of got him but didn’t in this weird kind of balance that was kind of awesome. They seemed to attract and repel each other at the same time, like some fucked up bi-polar magnets. And he was kind of interested to see what might happen if they kind of collided. Sure, Tristan was sure he had some sexual identity crisis freak out on the horizon, but right now he was just…chill.
Eric pulled away from Tristan quick enough to give Tristan whiplash. “No. Don’t do that shit. Just. Stop,” Eric said almost frantically, shooting off to the other side of the room and pacing back and forth. Like a crazy person.
Tristan decided that Eric was worse than every girl he had ever met. Because this was just stupid now. “So you don’t like me anymore? I ask for my own sanity. You know. So I can postpone the gay panic freak out I was planning on having sometime next week.”
“You,” Eric said after a second, screwing his face up into this pathetic kind of scowl. Oh God, Eric was human in there somewhere and Tristan felt his stomach churn in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant but wasn’t exactly bad either. “You are going to kill me. This…this isn’t my life.”
“You look kind of like Edward Cullen in that light,” Tristan heard himself say, which was not only a completely non sequitur, but was also kind of ridiculously true now that his brain was catching up with his mouth. But the only light in the room was from the lamp on the desk, and right were Eric was standing, the evening light was cutting through the window, the soft moonlight making everything kind of glow. Especially Eric, who had that same kind of strong jaw and broody vampire thing going on.
Eric stopped his pacing suddenly and he turned and looked at Tristan a little wildly. “What the hell are you?”
Tristan shrugged, suddenly really intrigued by how the moonlight lit up Eric’s hair and made his cheekbones look really sharp. Like Spike from Buffy sharp, which was…hmm. His brain really wanted to supply the word ‘hot’ but it was just not used to attributing that to man-shaped persons. At least not in a way that mattered. And this clearly did. “I have no fucking clue, actually,” Tristan said, tilting his head to the side and just studying Eric.
“Stop it,” Eric said again, softer this time and with a tone that was almost a question.
“No. You are starting to be really annoying. You stop,” Tristan replied, wondering how this had somehow devolved from a talk about feelings (even if either of them hadn’t really said anything about their actual feelings, because even if their feelings were kind of gay the were still guys for Christ’s sake) to ‘I know you are but what am I?’
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Eric said a little pathetically which was endearing but still really, really annoying.
Tristan rolled his eyes and again found himself grabbing Eric by the shoulders. “And I do? This is kind of freaking me out too, man. At least try to pretend you have it together.” Eric gave him a look like he was going to bolt again (and really? Of course Tristan would decide he might have big gay feelings for the most fucked up guy he could find). “So. Here is what is going to happen,” Tristan said, doing his best to keep his voice slow and measured. “I am going to kiss you.” Eric sucked in a sharp breath and jerked a little but didn’t seriously look like he was trying to get away. “And we aren’t going to worry about what the hell this is, because we are bros and maybe we are bros who might make out sometimes. Everything else we’ll deal with later. Cool?”
Eric nodded, apparently unable to form actual words and looked at Tristan with a kind of awe that Tristan knew he really didn’t deserve. It made him want to go out and have a serious talk with whoever made Eric the withdrawn, asshole-ish bastard he was. Because Eric was kind of awesome. Even if he was a douche. Tristan was a little surprised when he noticed he was trembling slightly, but he figured it was okay. It wasn’t every day a bro came on to a fellow bro. And holy shit, he was coming on to Eric. Life was so fucking weird.
Shaking the thought away, Tristan slid one hand up Eric’s shoulder and neck to rest on the sharp line of Eric’s jaw. He could feel every little shift of the nerves under Eric’s skin, and it was kind of nice to know Eric was probably freaking out just as much as Tristan was right now. “So. I’m going to…”
“Yeah,” Eric breathed, soft and light and Tristan was already close enough that he could feel the breath across his face. It made his own breathing hitch a little, and Tristan wondered how it was possible to feel like a stupid, clueless virgin when he’d left all of that behind quite awhile ago.
“Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder,” Tristan start singing softly before he could stop himself, the familiar tune giving him a burst of courage. “You better run, you better take cover.” And then Tristan couldn’t drag it out anymore, and he pressed his lips gently against Eric’s. At first, it was an exact reverse for the first time they had kissed, except now Tristan was doing the kissing while Eric was just kind of there. But now that Tristan had made up his mind, he wasn’t going to just give up because Eric was going to be a dick about it. The kiss wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t good and Tristan was about to have a complete mental breakdown for being so ridiculous to think that this was something he actually wanted.
And then all of a sudden Eric was with him. There was this gaspy little moan which was far more hot than it had any right to be, and one of Eric’s hands was coming up to hold the back of Tristan’s head and Eric tilted his head just so and Eric was sucking on Tristan’s lower lip and Tristan’s couldn’t help but take up the mental chant of ‘yes, yes, yes’ because this was kind of what he was hoping for when he was thinking about colliding. Everything about this was exciting because Tristan didn’t once feel like he needed to pull away and this was kind of how he thought he’d feel the time he kissed Blaine, but hadn’t. This was different and kind of awesome, because Eric stopped sucking on his lip and bit at it which should have hurt but didn’t. Well it did, but in such a good way that made Tristan surge a little closer to Eric and make a really undignified (but not at all girly) sound in the back of his throat.
Eric pulled away suddenly, eyes wide and cautious. “Are you okay? Was that wrong? That was-” Eric couldn’t finish because Tristan was rolling his eyes and pulling their faces back together and slipping his tongue into Eric’s mouth which was still conviently open in surprise. Tristan could feel Eric melting a little into him, which was weird and new and kind of dizzying. Just when Tristan thought he was starting to get his bearings again, Eric had to fuck it up again by sucking on his tonuge, another thing that shouldn’t be hot, but was. Tristan groaned soft and low, one hand fisting in Eric’s hair and the other grabbing Eric’s bicep tightly. Then there was an arm around Tristan’s waist, dragging him flush with Eric and oh God, yes, that was a hard on against his thigh which was really, really weird, but not as weird as the fact that he had one too. Eric seemed to feel it about the same time Tristan did, and they both sprang apart until there was a good few feet between them.
They just looked at each other for what felt like a long time, and Tristan wondered if he looked as mussed as Eric did, full bruised lips and crazy hair and ragged breathing. “Um.”
“Yeah,” Tristan replied, dragging the word out long hoping that his brain would supply him with something more to say. It didn’t. He kind of wanted to have his big gay panic, but he couldn’t really find the will for it right now. Because as much as he wanted to flip the fuck out, he was still really turned on and Eric still really looked like he’d walked out of a young adult vampire romance novel. “So, I think we should keep doing this,” Tristan said eventually, gesturing between them. “I am so not ready to get our freak on, even if you know…parts of us clearly are.” It was too dark to see properly, but Tristan could swear Eric was blushing. Holy crap. This night was kind of the best night ever. “But we should…I don’t know. Be…”
“Bros with benefits?” Eric supplied after a second.
Tristan beamed. “Yeah. I like that. Sounds badass.” And then Eric was smiling, like, a real smile and not that sly, smug thing he usually did. A real smile that made Eric seem really young and kind of normal.
“So…” Eric said.
“Yeah…” Tristan replied.
Eric took two steps forward so he was just too close to Tristan to be in the friend zone and traced a hand down Tristan’s cheek and settling into the curve of his jaw. “I think,” Eric said, his tell tale smirk firmly back in place (except instead of making Tristan annoyed, this time it made his stomach do this flip-flop), “we should make out a little more.”
Tristan smiled. “I could be down for that.”
Somewhere, deep down, Tristan knew that all of this was somehow Blaine Anderson’s fault. Because the guy was still kind of the center of the known universe, even when he wasn’t even fucking here. Sometimes Tristan had hated being just one more thing orbiting Blaine like some forgotten little moon, but then there were times like these, where he was pretty glad that the gravitational pull of Blaine Anderson had made him and Eric collide. It remainded to be seen if this was going to be something totally awesome or if it was going to explode in his face. But for now, Tristan was pretty glad to be along for the ride.