Chapter Text
“Do you want to stay?” Ryland traced the silhouette of Simon’s ear, then behind it and scratched at the hair and nape.
“Of course I do.” Ryland’s heart under his other ear, beating evenly in the aftermath of an evening full of adrenaline– fueled by libido and emotion and so many kisses, everywhere. Now, it was calm and resting, steady and grounding.
“I want you to stay, if that’s alright.” Their legs were not too tangled, comfortable and resting akin to an interlocking puzzle.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be. Rather be here anyway.” Simon breathed deep and pressed closer on the exhale.
Ryland set a forehead kiss, not quick, lovingly set near his hairline.
–
Simon was usually one to get up early on purpose or else it felt like the day was wasting away, but this was something dangerous. This would keep him in bed for much longer.
Soft, soft waking. A hum of “hello”, unintelligible and not more than a murmur due to only being half-awake. Then, a unanimous shuffling nearer. It was so utterly addicting to wrap an arm around and get ever closer–dig in and adjust for comfort, close enough to feel like one creature–a beast of sleep and covers, warmth, ribs, breath, a strip of exposed skin, a neck that you hide in and close your eyes. It was a silent agreement to embrace as soon as they awoke enough to know they weren’t already interlaced.
It was lungs next to their own, breathing in tandem like their hearts had merged into one. But it was also a little bit of morning breath, where one can feel with a tongue the need to brush one’s teeth.
Simon rested just a bit over Ryland, ribs into ribs, face in the crook of his neck, arm curled around ribs and legs laced comfortably. He squeezed his arm just a bit, enjoying holding someone in their entirety, and poked his nose under his jaw. It was too close, too easy to just nuzzle in a bit more and steal a couple kisses in the hollow there.
He trailed his lips upward and pulled an arm away to look at Ryland, lit in diffused morning light.
“Hey, Ry,” He propped up on an elbow, curved in close and trailing the bones of Ryland’s face with his fingers. “You sure you don’t have anything today?” A kiss dropped on his brow, “Tell me if you do, or I won’t stop kissing you,” and he quickly adhered to his word, kissing his nose softly, then a cheek, “I’d hate to make you late..”
Lazy eyes and a smile focused on him, a hand coming up to cradle his face. “I’ve got nothing today,” Ryland spoke so softly, a little rumble from under his chest. “Breakfast with you would be great though.”
Oh, how he could weep. Being held so kindly in one’s hands like a sheepdog and its shepherd, or like something to be treasured and kept made something melt in his diaphragm. If this was what it would be like every day with Ryland, he could have Simon forever. He’d already become putty in his hands, even if Ryland didn’t know it yet.
“Yeah?” Simon squeezed Ryland’s arm, whatever was closest, distinct muscle mass under his fingertips. The blankets, loved and a little worn, slipped down his back.
Another smile and a ‘yeah’ under Ryland’s breath was all it took.
Simon kissed him slowly, trying to note everything mentally. At least, he tried to, but all he ended up getting was how and what got a reaction from the man under him. A little gasp from gentle, light kisses down his trachea and to his collarbones, and a bit more vocality and jumping of muscle from dragging a hand from jaw to pec to stomach.
Maybe he’d be a bit of a tease and leave the bed to make coffee or breakfast now, but the call of more gasps and shuddering kisses and cute, soft, lovely grins under his lips was a strong contender to stay put. Plus, Ryland was trailing his hands in lovely swoops wherever and however he could touch (under his shirt and tracing at the hem of his shorts) and it was driving Simon slowly mental.
But soon, soon they breathed in tandem, hands still traveling but slower still, and Simon returned to his place in the hollow of Ryland’s neck. They had time.
Regretfully but in need of food, Grace pulled away gently, turning as he did so to lower Simon’s head onto the pillow with a hand and a kiss. “I’ll make us breakfast,” a hand found his glasses at the bedside and set them in place. “Take a shower if you want, and take from my clothes for something to change into. The towels are under the sink.” And he went, cradling Simon’s jaw and kissing him once more, stubble scratching just at his chin.
“Ok.” Simon let him go, soft endearment pouring into his face and the single whispered word.
–
He kept thinking of how Simon had just picked him up in his truck and driven him home, all with a smile, and had even asked him to coffee.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t been on a date, but it had been a while. Could he even consider it a date? Properly? He’d just ordered his regular (two cream and two sugar, drip coffee) and Simon had handed over the money for their drinks. They chatted about the weather while they waited for goodness sake!
Oh, but it was small---
The moments where Grace thought, maybe, maybe Simon could be thinking about him in the way he is–picking up both drinks when they were ready, passing it over with fingers brushing, and a hand at the small of his back when Simon walked around him to his seat.
Grace couldn’t help but word things awkwardly or add references in all conversations he had, all the while not knowing how to sit without knocking his knees into Simon’s, feeling much like something with too long of limbs for his body. But he pushed through, and mentioning something from the gossip of the breakroom gained a glimmer of teeth from Simon’s small laughs.
Ryland felt his demise come closer in the form of the grin of his friend, and when Simon held the door open when they left and even opened the passenger side door for him.
Maybe.
There was a pause in the lot before the apartments.
He’d finished his drink, finally, and Simon had pulled into a spot not too far away, under an oak tree. The inner lights were still on, and they’d settled into a calm quiet.
He looked over, spying at Simon through his lenses and assessed his face as he had done many times over the past months. He was handsome and only slightly rugged, hair pulled back with some strands escaping the tie.
“I’ve been meaning to ask if you—” Brown eyes met his own, and Simon paused to grab a napkin, folded beside the cups in the console. “You’ve got coffee on your nose.” There wasn’t much hesitation, Ryland would suspect it comes from fathering a messy child, and gentle hands ready to wipe it away.
And there it was, the feeling of being enraptured, two fingers holding his chin and the others swiping the napkin over his nose.
“Thanks,” Ryland spoke quietly, easy enough to hear in the truck cabin. The fingers still rested at his chin, pressing lightly. His heart was beating hard, like the rest of his body had suddenly gone quiet.
Simon readjusted his hand, more so holding his chin now with a tentative look on his face– more serious, but still warm and kind. “Ryland, I uh..”
His heart was beating and he could swear he could feel his veins, nerves from something big looming just ahead.
“Just for clarity and the fact that I want to get to the point,” A slight shift in Simon’s thumb, just resting in the curve under his bottom lip. “You make me so nervous. In a very, very good way, I know what I feel about you, but I cannot read a room to save my life—”
Ryland felt a surge of something overtake him (whether that be stupidity or bravery or confidence, he’d be happy for it within the day). “Can I kiss you?”
His glasses proceed to get thoroughly smudged.
—
Ryland stared at his cupboards, contemplating pancakes or waffles or French toast and if it should be bacon or—The timer he’d set for the coffee went off and he sighed. He’d just pick something. The bread did need to be used…so French toast it is. Ryland got everything out, the bread, milk, cinnamon, vanilla, and the rest. The kitchen was filled with the sound of whisking, a subtle scraping of the mixing bowl.
A soft ‘pat pat pat’ of Simon’s socked feet came up behind him, then a small hand on his waist and a forehead resting at his shoulder blades.
“Hey Simon..” A crack of an egg and a sizzle of bacon. Ryland picked out the shell from his bowl.
“Hi, Ry..” A quiet voice muffled in his t-shirt. There were hands at his waistband, fingers draped over his hipbones.
It was comfortable. This. This silence, full of rest and warmth and food cooking. Ryland felt like the head resting at his back meant everything. It was trust and care and a bit of adoration.
At a good stopping point, Ryland slowly turned in those kind hands and just indulged in a a hug for a long time– or until he started smelling the bacon.
“Hey,” he began again, turning the strips with a spatula. “The coffee is ready, choose whatever mug you want–” Ryland shifted within his arms to prop open a cupboard full of mismatched cups, only just moving so that he'd stay within grasp.
“Giff mm a min–” The clinging man spoke, translating to ‘give me a minute’, and Ryland could endure this forever— the closeness, the soft hold at his back, and a heart pressed so close to his own in every way it could be.
So, when everything was done and coffee was poured, he took his time to hold Simon's hand– a slightly darker tone with subtle markings from events he’d faced and withstood to make it to where he was today. He kissed it–warm lips from the coffee, tracing those lines with his nose and lips. “Go on a date with me?”
Eyes, just that bit surprised at the sudden question, softened into crows feet and cheeks curved upward with his lips.
Simon felt out of breath from the focus, lips on his knuckles and blue blue eyes looking with everything like fondness. “Yeah–” He swallowed a bit of the shock then doubled down. “Of course.”