Tangled Up
ROSS. AGAIN. AGAIN YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME.
HERE IS THE 12,000 WORD EPIC THAT KILLED MY BRAIN FOR TWO DAYS.
I LOVE YOU.
Tangled Up
By Tee
This, Tristan Ross thought, pulling at his graduation robes and grimacing at the mirror, is your life. This is standing in front of a full length mirror in your…whatever’s dorm room and hating your life and the fact that you’re pretty sure your…whatever just asked you to move in with him. Well, Tristan thought, pulling his stupid cardboard hat onto his head and wishing he could disappear, this whole gay freak out was kind of overdue. He just wished it didn’t have to happen on graduation.
“You are freaking out,” Eric said somewhere behind him and if Tristan looked up, he was sure he’d see Eric looking at him in the surface of the mirror, his eyes doing that super intense thing he did when he couldn’t decide if he wanted to put his hands down Tristan’s pants or put his hands around Tristan’s neck and strangle him. Oh God, this whole day was going to end with Eric up a tree pouting and Tristan didn’t know if he had the will to go after him right now.
“That would be fair,” Tristan replied, finding the carpet really exciting all of a sudden. There was this stain right under the mirror- a dark red blotch that Tristan remembered making when he dropped his cranberry juice the time he’d walked in and Eric was doing his stupid crazy dance stretches all naked and sweaty…and that really wasn’t where he needed his brain to go right now. “Yes. I am freaking out. Kind of a lot.”
Behind him Eric sighed and grumbled under his breath in that horribly angstful way of his like he was oh so tortured. Most of the time it made Tristan want to hug him and lick his nose to make him smile again. But right now it just made Tristan want to punch him because this was really supposed to be about him right now. And having his big gay freak out. Which was long overdue and oh God, his whatever wanted to cohabitate him and that was really, really so very gay. More than the sex. Probably.
“Sweetheart?”
Tristan felt every muscle in his back tense instantly, and he didn’t know if that was because Eric was calling him ‘sweetheart’ in a setting that wasn’t post-orgasm or teasing at all or how distant and sad he sounded when he said it or if it was how Eric’s fingers where just barely touching the back of his neck. He screwed his eyes shut tightly, and breathed heavily through his nose and Eric’s fingers were gone. Tristan heard the door open and close before he could even get the will to open his eyes again, much less say anything.
Well. Fuck this shit.
Six months ago, right before winter break, Tristan Ross told Eric Amparo that he looked like Edward Cullen and made out with him kind of a lot and said “let’s be bros with benefits”. And all of this…was so far, far beyond that.
Six months ago, when Tristan had to leave Eric in his dorm room because it was three am and he had a test the next day and his lips were kind of really sore from the sheer amount of kissing that had been going on and he had a really stupid persistent hard on that he had to deal with, he had thought that this was kind of crazy but kind of awesome.
And it kind of had been. Everything had so much potential to be stupid and weird and awkward. Hell, Tristan half believed that when he woke up the next day, he would have completely changed his mind and had to flee the state so Eric wouldn’t kill him with his crazy awesome Asian superpowers, no matter how much Eric protested that he didn’t have any. But, strangely enough, he hadn’t.
He woke up and grinned stupidly at the sun coming through his window and sung “Land Down Under” obnoxiously loud in the shower. And instead of going straight down to breakfast he’d gone and knocked on Eric’s door.
When it opened, Eric gave him a hairy eyeball until he seemed to realize it was him and then just waited, that weird flighty look that Tristan was really starting to hate on his face. “You are so stupid sometimes, oh my God,” Tristan said with an eye roll and flicked Eric solidly between the eyes. “Stop giving me that look. We’re going to breakfast.”
“You’re a morning person,” Eric said with a bit of a moan, even if his eyes were kind of sparkly (which was weird but kind of nice and Tristan was worried he was turning into a teenaged girl). “I have made so many mistakes.”
“Clearly,” Tristan agreed brightly. “If you let me steal your bacon, we can totally skip third period and make out in the janitor’s closet.”
And he did and they did and it was all kind of super awesome.
The best part about all of it was that nothing else changed. Tristan still spent a lot of time fishing Eric out of wherever he was hiding and brooding about his life and Eric still spent a good amount of time staring at Tristan like he had lost every single one of his marbles and they still spent Warblers rehearsal bitching back and forth about everything. Eric still kicked Tristan’s ass every time they actually tried to do outdoorsy kinds of activities together and Tristan dominated Eric at every video game ever because he was that freaking cool. It’s just that now sometimes when Eric got that intense look on his face he would lean over and grab Tristan’s chin and try to basically eat his face off (in a good way). And when Eric looked particularly sad or emo, Tristan would wrap him in a really tight hug and lick at Eric’s lips until Eric would heave a world weary sigh and kiss him back. So it was all kind of the same and different and amazing.
The first time things started to change, it was kind of…okay. Weird, but okay.
Tristan had just aced his physics test, which was kind of crazy and completely Eric’s fault for tutoring him. And shit like that had to be punished. And so when Tristan let himself into Eric’s room that afternoon, he was so ready to push Eric up against the wall and kiss him until there was no air left in the room and his lips felt raw and too big. Then Tristan could kick Eric’s ass at Super Smash Bros. and the whole day would be perfect.
Except when Tristan got there, Eric was laying face down on the bed with these humongous headphones over his ears. Tristan almost thought he was dead, but then he saw the slight rise of his back that indicated Eric was indeed breathing. There seemed to be something inherently wrong about the whole thing and Tristan felt his chest seize up. But he wasn’t going to flip out and start worrying because then Eric would probably flip out and Tristan was sometimes really bad at feelings. Tristan fished his keys out of his pocket and threw them at Eric’s prone back. “Dude. Come make out with me. I’m awesome.”
Eric shot up looked at Tristan and Tristan felt something plummet to the bottom of his stomach. Eric did a spectacular job of looking broody and emo and tortured, but Tristan was sure he had never seen Eric look so…defeated. Like the gods had reached down their mighty arms and smacked him a few good ones and then kicked his favorite puppy for good measure. Eric must have seen something he didn’t like in Tristan’s face because he almost immediately flipped back down and put his face in his pillow.
There were lines. Tristan knew that. Sure they were best bros and sometimes ( all the time, really) they would make out but they didn’t get deep. Eric didn’t reveal his deep dark secrets- which he had to have, because no one could brood that much with out deep dark secrets- and Tristan didn’t talk about how sometimes he did freak out just a little bit because sometimes he wanted to buy Eric flowers and stupid shit like that. Right now, Eric seemed to be having some serious kind of issue and Tristan should be a good bro and let him wallow by himself and come back and have celebratory smooching later.
But Tristan had a hard time with lines and rules and he didn’t give it more than a second of thought before he dropped his back pack and strode across the room to sit near Eric’s hips and kind of grab him in a awkward hug that had Tristan draped over his back. He pulled the headphones off and threw them over the side of the bed and was basically petting Eric’s hair before he realized his hands were moving.
“Go away,” Eric said, sounding really angry for someone who was leaning into Tristan with his whole body like a content cat.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, going for the ‘ignore everything Eric says’ tactic that usually served him well. Eric didn’t move or look like he was going to say anything else, so Tristan laid his head on the pillow next to Eric and tilted his head up. “Dude. It’s me. Your Tristan-shaped bro. What is it?”
“I’m gay,” Eric said despondently. Tristan’s first response would be a big fat ‘duh’ because, seriously. Last week they had gotten into a serious conversation about Leonardo Dicaprio and Robert Pattison and their comparative hotness and all of that was super gay. Oh, and the fact that just last night Eric had Tristan shoved against the desk and had seemed really intent on licking Tristan’s tonsils (which was actually a lot more attractive than it sounded, really) and Tristan could feel how much Eric was into it against his hip and yeah, he kind of thought about it when he limped off to his room later and didn’t even feel bad about how hard he had come because it had been just that amazing.
But the tone made something in Tristan’s gut jump in a completely not good way. So he said, “Thanks for letting me know, man,” softly and stroked Eric’s face for a second before kissing his cheek. Which was kind of a lot more intimate than all of the French kissing action they did on a regular basis.
Eric let out a frantic little laugh, something sad and really amused all at the same time. “It’s just…there are all of these things,” Eric said. “And they all suck and if I get one more lecture on how I’m supposed to…” He trailed off and looked really, really pathetic and flustered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Tristan said instantly. And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because they really probably should talk about it, but that was a line that Tristan wasn’t ready to cross, because they didn’t talk. Like that. Ever. But it did make Eric give him the most grateful look and push his face into Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan could feel Eric’s shaky breathing against him and it was all kind of too close and too much, but Tristan couldn’t really stop now so he kind of prodded at Eric until the were doing some really intense kinds of cuddling with their legs tangled up together and Tristan drew stupid little patterns on Eric’s back with his hand and rested his cheek on Eric’s head.
Tristan had eventually untangled himself when Eric was snoring on him (which he would so use as blackmail if Tristan didn’t feel like it would sully something that was really kind of special even if he didn’t want to think about that too hard). He’d scratched out a note and set it in the indent his head had left on the pillow.
Big E-
You don’t have to talk about anything, but I’m here if you need anything.
For like, talking or cuddling or whatever.
Also, you owe me a physics success make out session.
-T-Dawg
Things were different after that. Not in a bad way, and they still never actually talked about things. But there was a closeness now and Tristan could see when Eric was having serious bad feelings and not the usual emo bullshit. And Eric seemed to be paying more attention to Tristan too, so he didn’t push as hard as he could when Tristan was having one of those days were everything sucked.
The most obvious change though was that they always seemed to be together after that. Not like they hadn’t been already. Because they were best bros and had awesome make out sessions and kind of really awesome partners in crime. But now they were in each other’s space more than they ever had been before. Tristan would sit next to Eric in the dining hall so their knees would brush and Eric would lay right up against Tristan’s side when they were playing video games.
But all of that was kind of cool, even if it made Tristan feel kind of weird sometimes when Eric wasn’t right in his space, like something was missing and that was co-dependant and not at all in the realm of cool. All in all, Tristan was pretty okay with how everything was going. They had just, made it a little more. They were still bros with benefits, they just had kind of girly closeness now.
Then Eric went home for the weekend.
Okay, so that didn’t sound like something that could change everything, but it did. Because for the first time since all of this started, Eric wasn’t around. Eric never went home, and Tristan didn’t either, so they spent the weekends up trees or at the lake feeding ducks or trying to brain each other with pebbles from across the courtyard in an epic battle of wills (and aim). And then they would make out in places the couldn’t when everyone was in school (like on the council desk in the Warblers rehearsal room, take that). So weekends were awesome.
And Tristan was kind of really excited for this one, because it was three whole days and who knew how much mischief they could get into together? But, no, the bastard had to go home for some reason or the other, and Tristan spent three whole days alone and pouting. He tried to call Blaine to come and rescue him, but Blaine was having some super duper romance weekend with Kurt (which he always was, but whatever).
He got silly and lonely on the second day and started the newest text war with Eric.
Tristan (3:45): You. Hey.
Tristan (3:45): What up, home slice?
Tristan (3:48): I am so bored.
Tristan (3:49): Eric. I’m dying.
Tristan (3:50): Of boredom.
Tristan (4:00): You suck.
Tristan (4:10): Text me back.
Tristan (4:13): Textmebacktextmebacktextmeback
Eric (4:30): Ross. Do your homework. I’m kind of busy.
Tristan (4:31): Doing what?
Tristan (4:32): Anything exciting?
Tristan (4:33): Getting drunk and getting laid?
Tristan (4:40): What is so important that you are ignoring me?
Tristan (4:43): Eric. Eric. TELL ME.
Eric (5:02): Tristan. Please.
Eric (5:03): I’ll be back tomorrow around five, okay?
Eric (5:10): So don’t get your panties in a twist.
Tristan (5:14): I guess I’ll survive until then.
Tristan (5:14): And you should bring me pizza. In atonement.
Tristan (5:16): Also, you don’t know anything about my panties, STFU.
That was all pretty standard for them. It was the text Tristan sent later that night, when he was kind of drowsy and drifting off to sleep.
Tristan (12:06): Eric. Miss you. <3
The next morning, Tristan didn’t even remember sending it. So he wasn’t surprised not to see a text in reply and yeah, it was a little weird that Eric didn’t at least send him a text to confirm what time he was going to get back to Dalton, but Tristan didn’t care too much because at least Eric was coming back to relieve his intense fucking boredom.
When Eric got back, Tristan was lounging in Eric’s room (because he had a key and he could, and Eric totally had a better TV) watching The Breakfast Club and trying not to tear up as that crazy group of kids revealed all of their deep dark secrets. He couldn’t help beaming brightly at Eric when he entered, feeling something light and happy rise in his chest. “Eric! My bro, my buddy, my pal. I remember requesting pizza and-” Tristan was cut off his babbling very quickly when Eric flipped off the TV. “I was watching that, dick. It was getting to that good part when-” Tristan was cut off again when Eric turned and Tristan really saw him. He was wearing one of those intense faces, but his eyes looked so much darker than usual. Tristan had no idea what that look meant, but it made his heart rate spike and he couldn’t breath for a really long second.
And then Eric was fucking everywhere. Tristan had no idea how it happened, but Eric seemed to have teleported from his spot by the TV to straddling Tristan on the bed. He was grabbing Tristan’s face with one hand and holding his shoulder down with the other and just looked at him for what felt like forever before crashing their lips together. Kissing Eric was always kind of hot and a little desperate, but it had never been anything like this before. Never this kind of ferocity. Because that was the only word for it. It almost felt like an attack and Tristan couldn’t respond right away. At least until Eric was practically prying Tristan’s lips open with his tongue. And then Tristan groaned and grabbed onto Eric’s hips because they were there and it seemed kind of right.
They didn’t do this. Sure, they made out. A lot. But it was always standing, or sitting on a couch or up against a wall. It was intense, but kind of safe. No beds or reclining or anything that made them had too much of that all over contact. Not that Tristan didn’t think about it (a lot). It was just that that was another one of those lines that they didn’t cross. Bros might make out with each other, but Tristan was pretty sure if they started doing shit like this they weren’t really bros anymore. When it was just kissing, it was fun and kind of light and non-threatening. But Eric was pressing his hips down into him and there was all of this weight on top of him. And then Eric was ripping his lips away from Tristan’s, which was so lame, but then he was sucking on Tristan’s neck and that was so awesome that Tristan forgot to breathe completely.
“What is this?” Tristan panted out, when he could remember how to think. Not that he was doing a very good job of it, because Eric was still practically mauling his neck with his lips and his tongue. And then there were teeth at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and fuck if that wasn’t the best thing ever. “Oh, mother of God and all her wacky nephews,” Tristan muttered incoherently, one hand flying up to twist into Eric’s hair in some desperate kind of need to keep him there.
“You,” Eric said when he pulled away from Tristan’s neck, his voice low and dark and all kinds of smooth that just made Tristan even more painfully aware that he was really, really turned on right now. “Drive me crazy.” Eric dove back in and bit his jaw, which kind of hurt, but made Tristan arch off the bed a little anyway, moaning something that was suspiciously like Eric’s name. God, Eric must really be a vampire, because his fucking teeth were just all over and Tristan couldn’t even complain because it was so awesome. The best thing ever. At least until Eric twisted his hips and holy mother of hell, their erections were kind of grinding against each other and Tristan was sure he was going to black out.
He must have made some really ridiculous sound, because Eric pulled back a little, some of that sexy darkness leaving his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, looking like he was trying to be concerned but having a hard time reconciling that with how turned on he was.
And here he was, getting a fucking out. Eric had to know how much Tristan was enjoying the current proceedings. Because…well, duh. But Eric seemed to know as well as he did that this was one of those things they didn’t do and that it would mean something. Something they should probably talk about. If they ever talked about anything.
Tristan didn’t even hesitate. “I will fucking murder you if you do.” He didn’t even finish talking before Eric was all over him again, smashing their lips together in this wet and messy kind of way and grinding against him again in a way that made Tristan want to die. In a good way. Another few grinds and Tristan felt like his skin was on fire and he was panting and groaning into Eric’s mouth. His brain was completely shorting out and he threw one leg over Eric’s hip and they were just that much closer and Tristan was trying to meet the thrust of Eric’s hips with thrusts of his own.
Then Eric was pulling his lips away and breathing hard into Tristan’s neck, gasping for breath. Tristan’s eyes were kind of rolling back in his head and he had thought he was so far above coming in his pants from a little dry humping, but apparently not, because Eric moaned his name, warm and broken, into the hollow of his throat.
Vaguely, Tristan was aware that Eric was coming too, he could feel his cock kind of pulsing against his hip through their clothes, which made him groan a little helplessly because that was really kind of amazing, but he couldn’t hold anymore hot things in his brain right now.
Time got kind of drifty after that, and when it stopped being so ephemeral, Tristan realized he was curled up in Eric’s arms and Eric was still kind of shaking. When Tristan caught his eye, Eric looked positively mortified. Tristan kind of wanted to tease him, but didn’t have the heart for it, and just rolled his eyes and kissed him softly. “God damn it, Eric,” Tristan said when he pulled back, laughing a little. “I am never ever going to complain about what just happened, but where the fuck did that come from?”
Eric smiled that soft, young kind of smile at him, the one Tristan had kind of started to think of as his. “It’s your fault. That stupid goddamn text.”
Tristan was still grinning, but he was really so confused. Because as awesome as his texts were they weren’t… And then he remembered his last few seconds of consciousness before drifting off to sleep the night before. Then he was the one feeling kind of mortified and he buried his head in Eric’s chest. He kind of wanted to take it back, because he wasn’t sure he meant it, whatever it was that text meant. But then he kind of did. Even if he didn’t know exactly what it was. So all he said was, “I’m glad your back. Even if you forgot my pizza. Jerk.”
Part 2