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“I’ve got this idea for a skit,” Pete says to Colin on Monday. He’s trailing Colin through the studio space, weaving around stray chairs and trying not to trip on electrical cords. “You gotta hear me out on this one, man.”
“Pete,” says Colin, who really is only here because he took a wrong turn on the way to his office (and if by ‘wrong turn’ he means he ‘got off on the wrong floor’, that’s his business and nobody else’s). “Can I just - ”
“It involves a salamander,” Pete cuts in, and Colin knows a lost cause when he sees one.
---
When he was head writer, Colin always used to be late to the Monday pitch meeting. It was never intentional – indeed, many times he actively tried to not be late – but somehow he always ended up inching Lorne’s office door open slowly with barely a minute to spare, awkwardly bashing the door handle into various bodies as he squished himself into the small room, filled to the brim by an ever-growing number of writers.
These days, there are over thirty people stuffed into Lorne’s office on a weekly basis. But these days Colin can actually get there at a reasonable time – so it’s much easier to slip inside and take up his now-regular perch on the edge of the large, leather armchair where Che is always seated, one foot propped up on his knee, flipping through pitch notes.
“Hi,” Colin says, placing his own sheaf of papers in Che’s hands as he gets comfortable.
“Quit wiggling your ass around,” Che grumbles.
“Always a charmer,” Colin mutters.
The other writers are filing in, but Colin’s caught in this second: the second when Che snorts but then glances up and gives Colin a small, pleased smile, the one that always makes Colin’s insides feel like they’re melting, just a little bit.
Lorne calls them all to order soon enough, and then they spend the next few hours going through countless pitch ideas. By the end of the meeting Colin’s ass definitely occupies less space on the armrest than it does on Che’s lap, but no one ever seems to mind too much.
---
“Colin,” Alex calls down the hallway on Tuesday. “Have you seen Beck?”
“Uh, nope,” Colin says. He’s on his way to Che’s office, but he stops and twists around to face Alex. “But he should be around here somewhere.”
“Well, apparently he’s not speaking to Kyle,” Alex says. Colin cocks his head to the side.
“But they’re always speaking to each other,” he says, confused.
“Well, they aren’t now,” Alex shrugs, and Colin’s brow furrows, because that is weird.
Here’s the thing: every week, without fail, something weird happens on the show. Not so much when they’re on-air, but during the week – something will go a bit wrong, or someone will act a bit strangely, and it’s just another thing that everyone has to deal with.
Colin had really thought the weird thing this week would be Pete’s sketch, but this is definitely weirder. Beck and Kyle are practically joined at the hip. It’s odd, practically unheard of, for them to ever be mad at each other, let alone angry enough that they won’t speak to each other.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Colin says, and Alex nods and chucks him a quick grin.
---
Colin’s staring at a packet of Skittles. Or rather, they’re staring at him. Intimidating him. Enticing him. His body and emotional-eating issues are mostly gone these days; eating a packet of Skittles would be nothing. Really, they’re just sitting there, practically begging themselves to be opened. Colin finds himself tempted – his hand inches forwards –
“And then,” Pete continues, “the office worker will jump out, and the salamander will be on his shoulder!”
Colin resists the very strong urge to bury his face in his hands, and instead, gives himself a very stern internal lecture about remaining diplomatic when your friend and slightly crazed co-worker wants to perform a skit on live television that involves an actual living salamander.
“Why does it have to be a real salamander?” Colin asks. “Can’t we use a stuffed toy instead?”
“But that’s where the humour comes from!” Pete exclaims. “People won’t expect a real salamander to actually appear. That’s why it’s gonna be so funny.”
“Could it be a different animal?” Colin tries, mostly in vain at this point. “Something that’s easier for people to train, maybe? Like a dog?”
“A dog?” Pete says, outraged. “That wouldn’t be funny at all!”
Colin reaches for the Skittles packet and rips it open, deciding once and for all that he can’t get through the remainder of this conversation without sugary, chemical assistance.
“Okay,” he sighs, resigned, as he shoves a handful of Skittles in his mouth. “Get your ideas together, I’ll help you pitch it to Lorne.”
“You’re the best, Colin,” Pete grins, shoving his shoulder.
“Oh, hey,” Colin calls, just as Pete turns to leave. “Have you heard anything about Beck and Kyle?”
“Uh, yeah, I heard they were fighting,” Pete says.
“About what?” Colin asks.
“Someone said Beck was mad at Kyle for stealing his jacket,” Pete shrugs, before turning and exiting the office.
“His jacket?” Colin repeats. He takes a moment to shove another handful of Skittles into his mouth, feeling even more confused than he was before, and then puts the Skittles down and braces himself for Che and the Update writers to descend on his office for a night of chaotic, sleep-deprived comedy writing.
---
On Wednesday morning, Colin jerks awake to the sound of a loud voice bellowing, “Get the fuck up, lovebirds!”
After the initial shock wears off, Colin yawns, squinting his eyes against the sudden and uninvited light streaming into his office. He stretches his arms above his head – or at least, he tries to, but he’s stopped by a warm arm slung tightly around his waist.
“Good morning, Leslie,” Colin mumbles. His eyes slip shut again, lulled back into sleep by the warm press of Che’s body against his side. Colin’s office is not massive by any means, but about a year ago he and Che realised that it was big enough to fit a sofa bed. After a bit of smuggling, heavy lifting, and copious use of expletives, Colin’s office gained a sofa bed, and they no longer had to take turns sleeping on the couch. It’s still a bit of a squeeze for them – there’s nowhere as much space as their bed back home – but Colin doesn’t really mind all that much if it means he gets to wake up like this every Wednesday morning: sprawled on his back with an arm around Che, who is squished up against him like a human heating blanket.
“Look at you two,” Leslie tuts, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’re a mess. And too adorable. Stop it.”
“Piss off, Leslie,” Che grunts, though it comes out muffled because his face is smashed into Colin’s shoulder. He’s probably drooled on Colin’s t-shirt; Colin just resigns himself to that fate, these days.
“What time is it,” he asks, only slurring his words a little bit. They hadn’t fallen asleep until six a.m., and Colin is having a hard time focusing on anything that’s further away than his hand.
“It’s eleven,” Leslie says. “Y’all got half an hour to make yourselves look presentable for the read-through, and no, Michael Che, I am not buying you any breakfast.”
“Fuck you,” Che groans.
“Rise and shine,” Leslie grins menacingly, and leaves.
Blessed silence finally falls over the room. In the distance, Colin can hear the bustle of read-through day: cast and crew assembling in the offices, caterers arriving with mountains of food, writers rousing themselves from naps and trying to make themselves pass for presentable human beings. But for a moment, Colin lets himself relax, peaceful in the knowledge that Che is warm and safe next to him, tired but content after a long night of productive writing.
“Let’s just skip it,” Colin says finally, mostly as a joke.
“Screw that,” Che grunts after a minute. He heaves a deep breath in and rolls over, stretching out his arms. “I’m walking out.”
“Good luck walking out on Lorne,” Colin grins.
“You just watch me,” Che pushes himself upright and stands, stretching his arms again. His back pops a couple of times and his shirt rides up, and Colin’s eyes flit down to rest on those few inches of smooth skin, there and gone in a second.
“You can’t leave,” Colin continues, not even bothering to act embarrassed when Che turns around and gives him a look that says, I know what you were doing. “Your sketch is going to be in the show.”
“I hate you for hiring me,” Che scowls as he shuffles out of Colin’s office.
“Bye, sweetie,” Colin calls out, his voice following Che down the hall, obnoxiously loud on purpose.
So, you know, the usual Wednesday routine.
---
“Beck’s not talking to Kyle,” Colin begins, sliding into the vacant chair next to Cecily’s, ten minutes before read-through is supposed to begin. The room is filling quickly, and a shiver of anticipation hangs in the air. Colin used to think he would never not be excited to be preparing a show on Saturday Night Live, and technically, that’s still true; but he feels a different kind of excitement these days. He finds himself looking forward to the familiar routine, rather than something that’s unknown.
“I know,” Cecily says distractedly. Her head buried in her script, and her hands are cradling an enormous coffee mug that looks vaguely threatening.
“Any idea why they’re not speaking?” Colin asks.
“Beck is mad because Kyle stole his jacket,” Cecily says.
“Yeah, I heard that,” Colin says. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be mad about that?”
“No, you didn’t hear me,” Cecily shakes her head, finally glancing up at Colin. “Beck is mad because Kyle stole his jacket.”
“Okay,” Colin says slowly. “And by stole, you mean…?”
“I mean Beck left it at Kyle’s house after they had sex, yes,” Cecily says smoothly.
“Ah,” Colin says.
---
The thing about the house is not that it’s new, but that it was a long time coming.
Technically, Colin could say that he and Che had been living together since they started dating. Their clothes and possessions quickly took over each other’s houses, and by the time they realised how intricately tied up they were in each other’s lives, it seemed too difficult to try and move into a new place when they could just move between the two they already had.
That is, until a few months ago, when Colin had put his foot down and said, (very gently), “Let’s buy a house.”
Their biggest argument against moving was that they were far too busy with work and SNL for almost nine months a year, so they moved in the summer. When the SNL season ended, they bought a nice apartment in a nice neighbourhood, not too far from work and friends, and started moving in. They had a big moving day where they got most of the work done – Leslie had come and helped, Colin’s brother, some of Che’s family. It had been – really nice, actually, and Colin’s chest still warms at the memory.
So living with Che is nothing new. Colin’s become very good at that over the past three years. And that right there is the point.
Colin had known Che for a couple years before he hired him for SNL, and that first year of Che writing for the show was both the best and worst year of Colin’s life. Best, because he got to know Michael more intimately than ever before; worst, because both of them were a bit messed up and didn’t know how to deal with this new thing developing between them. It had taken a year of screaming fights, crushing silence and general uncertainty before they both finally got their shit together and talked about their feelings.
The point is, it takes them forever to do anything. It took them over a year to get together; it took them nearly three years to actually, “officially”, move in together. So the fact that Colin has been furtively eyeing off engagement rings? Is frankly too crazy an idea to even tolerate, even if their third anniversary is fast approaching.
“You want a beer?” Che calls out, cutting through Colin’s train of thought. Colin just sits down on the couch with a heavy groan, because there’s a difference between sitting down on a couch at work and writing comedy for twelve hours, and coming home and sitting on your own couch with the knowledge that there is nothing else you need to be doing in that moment.
“Please,” Colin replies. He hears the rattle of bottle tops on the counter, the soft pad of Che’s feet on tile as they walk around the couch.
“Thanks,” Colin smiles up at him and takes a long, grateful sip of his beer.
Che sits down next to him and switches on the TV, and as it so happens, an advertisement for engagement rings starts blaring through the speakers. It’s far too loud and Che quickly turns down the volume, but it’s all Colin can do to not spray his beer everywhere, because the timing.
“You okay?” Che asks, glancing at him. Time freezes for a moment: this could be it. The perfect chance to casually drop the question, to just ask, whisper, do you want a ring like that one day? Colin and Che’s relationship may have started rocky, but it’s been strong ever since – they make a point to communicate, talk about things that are confusing or uncomfortable or even a bit scary.
But the moment passes, and Colin just smiles and says, “Nothing.”
Chicken, a voice whispers in his ear, but he shakes his head. What he’s got is good; what they’ve got is great. Colin’s not about to rock the boat, not even if the idea of engagement rings pulls at his heartstrings a bit; not even if he sometimes looks at Che and wants to say to the world, that man there? Yeah, he’s mine.
---
On her first day of rehearsals for her first SNL show back in 2012, Kate McKinnon spent her lunch break having a quiet panic attack in Colin’s office.
To be fair, she hadn’t intended for anyone to find her. She’d actually been looking for the toilets, and, having forgotten where they were, had thrown herself into the nearest, emptiest room. Performing on SNL is hard, okay. It’s scary. Kate had literally worked her entire life for that opportunity, and the pressure was intense.
Colin, when he eventually discovered Kate hyperventilating on his couch, could sympathise. He sat down next to Kate and talked to her and rubbed her back, and by the time she had to return to rehearsals once more, they had found themselves fast friends.
Perhaps it was the trauma of the situation – talking someone through a panic attack is no simple task. Perhaps it was their similarities as unlikely minorities – Kate had quietly murmured that she was a lesbian, when Colin mentioned that he was bi. Whatever it was, they had forged a bond, and it was basically unbreakable.
It’s Thursday, and Kate is again spending her lunch break in Colin’s office, though this time is significantly less panicked than their first meeting five years ago. Colin is sitting back on his couch, editing the Update hard copy scripts for the fourth time. His arm is curled around Kate, who is most likely falling asleep against his shoulder. Rehearsals can be difficult, and Kate’s already run down, which means today must be crazier than usual.
“Hello, it’s me,” the door opens suddenly, and Che’s voice filters into the office.
“Hi, me,” Colin meets Che’s eyes with a quick smile.
“Hello, Michael,” Kate says coolly. “You are interrupting an intensely private moment, please go away.”
“Hi, Katie,” Che walks over, leaning down to press a kiss to her head, and then one to Colin’s for good measure. He barely bats an eye at the fact that she’s practically draped all over Colin, which makes Colin roll his eyes. Kate is one of a small handful of people who Che will comfortably allow to touch Colin, because as much as Che says he’s not a jealous type, Colin has learned that this is bullshit. Che is protective of Colin – it’s not annoying or intrusive, it just manifests itself in a most fantastic stink eye, which he directs at others often. Che denies this vehemently. Colin finds it hilarious.
Che collapses down onto the couch next to them, and Kate slides over to rest her head on his shoulder.
“Rehearsals are tough?” he asks, grabbing Colin’s laptop to look at scripts.
“You better believe it,” Kate says tiredly. “And we’re only halfway through the first day. Things just keep going wrong.”
“Isn’t that just a given for rehearsals, though?” Che snorts, tapping away at the laptop.
“It gets worse,” she continues gloomily. “Beck and Kyle have to film a short tomorrow.”
“Are they still not speaking?” Colin asks.
“Yup,” Kate says, popping the P. “It’s so awkward to be around either of them.”
“Why aren’t they speaking?” Che asks.
“They slept together,” says Colin.
“They did what?”
“Yes, they’re very gay for each other,” Kate says matter-of-factly. “But they’re dumb boys, so they won’t admit it.”
“Fuck,” Che sighs out. Colin stares down studiously at his scripts.
“They kind of remind me of you two, actually,” Kate says. “Way back when you both wanted each other but were too stupid to actually use your words and talk about it.”
Colin wants to surreptitiously slap his hand over her mouth, because he is very aware of that, thanks a lot. Che just huffs out a laugh.
“We were pretty bad,” he admits. He sounds… self-conscious? Colin glances up and finds Che looking right at him. They just stare at each other, and they share one of those moments where Colin knows that Che’s thinking the exact same thing that he is: mainly, that they’re being stupid again and not talking about the pretty big milestone coming up in their lives.
“Well, at least you both got your shit together,” Kate continues, breaking the spell. Che’s eyes flit back down to the laptop as Kate smiles at Colin. “And look at where all that talking has gotten you both.”
The girl makes a good point, Colin thinks, biting his lip.
---
Leslie storms into Colin’s office on Friday.
“I’m coming over to yours tonight,” she says, not a question but a statement.
Colin had been chewing a pencil, but he quickly draws it out of his mouth and says, “Okay.”
She nods and leaves.
Back when Che and Colin started spending a lot of time together, neither of them really knew how to cook more than three different dishes. For a while they made do with restaurants, but as they grew closer and began to spend more time at each other’s apartments, it didn’t make sense to order takeout all the time. So they started learning to cook together.
They’d choose a recipe, buy the ingredients, and then spend most of the evening making an absolute mess of the kitchen with only a mediocre meal to show for it. But with time and lots of practice, they eventually got better, and soon they learned to improvise cooking with whatever they had in the fridge. Che sometimes jokes that they fell in love next to the kitchen bench; Colin can’t deny it. They spent a lot of their date nights frying veggies on the stove top, or boiling pasta sauce, or, memorably, making a lasagne from scratch and not realising how long that process would take until they were putting it in the oven at 10:30 p.m.
Their cooking prowess now also means that they’re a popular choice for dinner get-togethers among their friends. Colin and Che invite Leslie over often, but when she does as she did today and invites herself over, Colin knows that she’s really asking for a break, a chance to let off some steam.
Colin finishes editing a new set of jokes for Update, and then gathers them up and heads down to Che’s office.
“Hi,” he says, after knocking on the door and pushing it open. He walks over and drops the notes on Che’s desk. “New Update jokes for you to look at. Also, Leslie’s coming for dinner tonight.”
“I’ll grab some extra potatoes from the store?” Che asks, because the best way to calm Leslie down is with potato salad.
“Sounds good,” Colin says, turning to leave. Before he can get away, a hand snakes out and catches his wrist, dragging him back. A single “What – ” is all he can get out before Che is dragging him down and kissing him.
It’s not a long kiss, but not a peck, either. Che’s lips are warm and firm against Colin’s, grounding him while also making a part of him want to fly, he’s that happy. God, what a sappy thought. Good thing Che isn’t telepathic.
“What was that for?” Colin asks when Che pulls away.
“Nothing,” he says. Colin’s eyes narrow.
“Did you do something?” he asks, suspicious. “Did you put the white shirts in the wrong laundry cycle again? Is this a forgiveness kiss?”
“No!” Che protests, laughing. “It’s not a forgiveness kiss. It’s just… a kiss.”
Colin puts his hands on the sides of Che’s face, studying him with narrow eyes. Che stares back at him innocently.
“…Okay,” Colin says finally, and presses one last kiss to Che’s lips.
As he turns to leave, he sees Che roll his eyes; but his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a small, quietly happy smile playing at his lips.
---
“Hey, Pete,” Colin says on Saturday, three hours before dress rehearsal is set to begin. “Is the salamander here yet?”
“No,” Pete says, looking devastated. “The skit wasn’t picked for tonight.”
“Well, it might be for the best,” Colin says, straight-faced. “After all, what would you have done if they had picked the script, but then they couldn’t find a salamander at such short notice?”
“Good point,” Pete says sadly. Colin glances up at the sky and wonders, not for the first time, if Pete wasn’t dropped as a kid. Even just a little bit.
“How’s it all going?” he asks, desperate to steer the conversation away from something that makes him want to burst into laughter and cry, at the same time. Pete is a brilliant comic, but sometimes his ideas are… well, sometimes they should just stay ideas, if you get what he’s saying.
“It’s a bit crazy,” Pete says. “Because Beck and Kyle aren’t speaking, all the skits run awkwardly, and no one knows what to do.”
“Hasn’t anyone gotten involved? Surely one of the head writers or someone would have said something if everything was being disrupted,” Colin says.
“Nah, it’s not like that,” Pete shakes his head. “Like, they’re working together, and technically nothing is wrong, but… everything’s just stilted, and awkward, and nothing flows like it usually does.”
“Jost!” someone yells from down the hall, just as Colin opens his mouth. He sighs.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” he says. “It’ll be fine, though. You guys will be great.”
“I hope so, man,” Pete says. Exhaustion has embedded itself around his eyes, but he’s still grinning as Colin runs off to get ready for dress rehearsal.
---
Putting on the show is exhilarating, and it will never not be. It’s a complete adrenaline rush – they’re all flying by the seat of their pants, letting go of what they’ve rehearsed to try and keep up with all the new changes being made hours or even minutes before. The week building up to the show may be tough, and it definitely drives them all a bit crazy, but this is what makes it worth all the work: performing in front of millions, hearing those famous words: “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!”
Colin hangs around backstage during the start of the show. He gets his makeup and hair done, puts on his suit, chats with the writers and has a peek at the cue cards. At one point Kate dashes past him, giving him two thumbs up and stopping only to give him a quick noogie. Colin laughs, cries out indignantly and tries to duck away from her, and Kate gives him googly eyes before heading to stage.
The good news is that the show doesn’t go up in flames. Everything runs smoothly – as smoothly as could be expected for a 90-minute live comedy show put together in less than a week – and there are no massive blunders, no big mistakes, nothing to cause a big alarm.
The bad news is that Beck and Kyle are still, as Pete said, really awkward around each other. Colin watches the show on a monitor, and it’s not bad, so to speak. The jokes land well, the audience laughs, and even the digital short that they filmed during the week is pretty funny. Things just aren’t working as smoothly between the two as they usually do. Beck and Kyle have always been a package deal, running on the same wavelength and completing each other’s sentences; but now they’re struggling to tap into that same familiarity.
Colin shrugs and turns away from the screen. It’s as good as it’ll get, and he needs to get going. It’s nearly time for Update, which means he has a tie to tie.
No matter how many years he spends behind the Update desk, Colin always gets nerves before they go out on stage. He can never sit still when he’s nervous, always tapping his fingers together in a random rhythm. When he started Update, he would tie and re-tie his tie to get rid of his jitters; then when Che had come along he’d made Colin tie his tie too, and for the past four or so years, Colin has tied Che’s tie before every Update, even for the specials they’ve done during summertime.
Their other ritual before the show is a bit newer, but probably better, in Colin’s opinion. After looping the tie through and pulling it tight, Colin will smooth his hands over Che’s chest; they will both glance around surreptitiously; and, having confirmed that they are being thoroughly ignored amidst the bustle of backstage, they will press their lips together in a brief, warm, and steadying kiss.
Colin likes that part a lot. It’s a quick way to ground himself, to force himself to be in the moment – he’s so grateful that he can do this job, and do it with Che. It’s not as though what they do is anything incredibly life-changing, but, well. He likes to think that they’re creating a little legacy, step by painstaking step, carving out a space for themselves in comedy history, together.
---
Contrary to its name, the after party is not a party. It’s still work. Colin used to find it pretty fun, even if they all had to be alert, entertaining the hosts and guests, making sure everyone had a good time but not too good of a time that cops got called. But the after party is beginning to lose some of its charm: the hours of partying and drinking can’t really compare to the fact that Colin hasn’t slept in twenty hours and just wants to go home to bed.
Maybe he’s getting old, he thinks glumly.
He gets through the after party and the host has a great time, along with all the other random people who always show up out of nowhere; and before he knows it, he’s being dragged into another, quieter bar for the after after party, the small, intimate gathering that’s open to SNL people only. Sometimes there’s one of these going, other times there are two, three, four different get-togethers, but one thing stays the same: it’s a time for just SNL cast and crew to let off some steam after the long, hectic week.
The bar they’re in tonight is low-lit, hushed and familiar, and they’re all secluded away in a corner. Most of the cast are here tonight – they’re gathered around a couple of booths, talking in groups or pairs. Leslie is chatting with the barman, and Colin’s pretty sure that Alex is asleep in the empty booth behind him.
Colin and Che are squished into the outer edge of one booth. Kate and Cecily are there, trading alcohol-fuelled joke-insults, as well as Mikey and Melissa, who appear to be in deep conversation about something. Che is chatting to Aidy, sitting on the other side of him, and Colin just sits there, relishing in the quietness of the bar, surrounded only by the noise of some of his closest friends.
“Hey,” Che nudges him at some point. “I’m gonna go grab another drink.”
“I’ll come,” Colin says, shuffling out of the booth.
They amble up to the bar, and Che orders for them both. They’re not really drunk – they didn’t go too hard at the after party, and the after after party has been pretty mellow this evening (morning, really – it’s four a.m.). Colin leans back against the counter, looking back at everyone in the corner, and his eyes fall on a table, a bit further away from everyone else. At that table sits Beck and Kyle, and they’re locked in what seems to be a pretty passionate kiss.
Colin elbows Che in the ribs. “Look,” he tilts his head towards the table. Che turns around, and Colin sees his eyebrows raise.
“Well, that’s new,” he remarks.
There are a lot of things that could be said here, but Colin doesn’t know how to put any of them into words. Instead, he just shifts along the bar and leans into Che, and Che wraps an arm tightly around his waist, and Colin feels so, so glad that they aren’t trapped back in that old, uncertain part of their lives.
He twists his head up to press a kiss against Che’s neck. The arm around his waist tightens, and everything is good.
---
Sunday is Colin’s favourite day of the week by far.
It begins with his favourite way to wake up: naturally, without alarms, curled up with Che on their big, comfy bed. A slice of sunlight streams through a gap in their curtains, bathing the duvet in a bright midday glow. For the first time all week Colin is completely and totally relaxed; his muscles feel soft and satisfied as he rolls onto his back and raises his arms up by his ears in a long stretch that echoes through his body from head to toe.
He relaxes his arms back down by his sides again and just lies there for a while, drifting into a doze, waiting for Che to wake up. Eventually Che does stir: his body moves slowly, lethargically, and he lets out a small grunt into his pillow before turning his head to face Colin.
“Good morning,” Colin says quietly. Che cracks an eye open, and a small smile flits along the edges of his lips.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs, and really, who is Colin to refuse him?
Eventually, they do manage to get out of bed. Both Colin and Che agree that big buffet-style breakfasts on Sunday are a must, and they dance around each other in the kitchen with practiced ease. Che fries the eggs and bacon while Colin is on toast and fruit duty, and in the background the radio plays some sort of smooth jazz station.
They should probably try to eat at the dining table, but they never seem to make it that far. Somehow, they always end up eating half off plates and half straight out of the pan, Colin on a stool and Che just sitting on top of the breakfast bar, leaning back against some cabinets. They chat about family or sports or sometimes nothing at all, preferring to relax in sleepy, content silence; what they don’t talk about is the show, or any type of work. This is their break, their detox, and Colin always savours every single second of it.
When they’re finished, they wash everything up and head to the living room. Sometimes, on these lazy Sunday afternoons, they’ll head out on a date, but other times they stay in and just watch something on TV. Today they’ve decided to marathon some show that Che really wants to see, and it feels good to sit back and let their breakfast digest.
Later in the afternoon, there’s a lull. The next episode refuses to load, and both Colin and Che are hard-pressed to move when they’re so comfortable on the couch. Both of them just sit there for a while, and Colin lets his mind wander.
He doesn’t realise that his fingers are tapping his familiar nervous pattern against each other until it’s too late and Che’s noticed too.
“You’re thinking about Kyle and Beck, aren’t you?” he asks the TV screen.
“No…” Colin draws out the syllable nervously. Well, he’s not thinking about Kyle and Beck specifically.
Che doesn’t buy it, not even for a second. “You’re thinking about when we behaved like Kyle and Beck,” he says.
“…Yeah, maybe.”
“Are we gonna talk about it?” he asks, finally twisting his head to look at Colin.
“We probably should,” Colin says.
But they don’t. They both sit there on the couch, looking at each other silently. Colin reaches for the words, any words, to say, but they’re not there. He thinks back to their communication techniques they’ve used in the past (when he said they were big on communication, he meant it, for the most part), but none spring to mind. He’s got a mental blank. He can’t push himself across that line; he’s still too scared to rock the boat.
Suddenly, Che looks away and sighs.
“Fuck it,” he says, “that’s not working. Go and grab my laptop.”
“What?”
“Go grab it.”
Colin shoots him an odd look, but gets up and grabs the laptop from the dining table and brings it over.
“Log in,” says Che.
“I'm really not your personal assistant,” Colin mutters, but he does it anyway, confused and a bit intrigued by the mystery of it all. They both know each other’s passwords – not so much out of some grand declaration of trust, but more because if Colin’s laptop is nearby then Che can’t be bothered getting up and grabbing his own, and vice versa.
“Now open up Chrome,” Che orders. Colin dutifully hits the button, knowing to expect the two dozen pinned tabs that Che always keeps open, because he can never just exit anything, he needs to keep it there to look at it for three months.
“Look through them,” he says, referring to the tabs, and Colin starts clicking them open. There’s a lot of sneaker shops that Che wants to buy from, and several news articles that he probably wants to make jokes about, but Colin comes across one tab that makes his fingers still over the keys.
It’s a website for a jeweller’s store, a very nice one, and on the page is a ring. It’s a plain band made of white gold with some sort of engraving on the inside, which makes sense because the name of the ring is listed as ‘White Gold Band Engagement Ring’, and Colin can’t breathe.
“I’ve been thinking about buying that for you,” Che blurts out, and Colin looks over and realises that he’s been fidgeting this whole time, eyes glued firmly to the floor. “For our third anniversary. Which is coming up. Soon.”
“I know it is,” Colin says faintly. Che takes a deep breath.
“I can forget a lot of things,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s taking great pains to ensure that he’s saying exactly what he wants to. “But I can never forget that average day in October when you kissed me, because I had spent a year being too scared to kiss you first. That was the day things really changed for me. My life was okay, but you make it all the more better.”
“Shit,” Colin chokes out, and launches himself at Che. He flings his arms around his neck and squeezes tight, so tight, and Che’s arms are extra firm around his back.
“Would you, uh,” Che stumbles, “Is that a yes?”
“You haven’t got me the ring yet,” Colin pulls back to look Che in the eyes. Che looks crestfallen, and Colin’s stomach drops. “Yes, yes, you idiot, of course it’s a yes.”
“Okay,” Che sighs out in relief, and Colin says “Oh my God” and kisses him fiercely.
“You’re an idiot,” he says eventually, after pulling away. “I’ve been thinking about proposing to you for weeks.”
“You have?” Che asks, shocked.
“Yes!” Colin exclaims. Che opens his mouth, pauses, and a grin spreads across his face.
“Can you imagine if we both tried to propose at the same time?” he says.
Colin snorts, saying “I get down on one knee and you say, wait, what are you doing?”, and Che grins and says “We’re both on one knee just staring at each other like, what’s going on – ”, and then they’re both gone, laughing hysterically, Colin’s face buried in Che’s shoulder while Che’s head is tipped back against the couch.
“I fucking love you,” Colin says, after they’ve calmed down a bit.
“I’m buying that fucking ring,” Che growls in a way that goes straight to Colin’s gut.
“Okay,” he says, the smile still on his lips. He wonders if it will ever leave. He wonders if he wants it to.
At that moment, Colin’s phone goes off. He crawls off Che’s lap to grab it, and Che reaches for the laptop, eyes narrowed and clicking buttons. Colin unlocks his phone – he’s got a text from Pete.
‘Lorne says salamander sketch is a GO this week,’ the message reads. ‘Wish me luck!’
Colin can’t help but grin again, helplessly. He looks up from the screen and watches Che, hunched over the laptop, buying him a fucking engagement ring. Colin only glances back down at his phone for a moment to switch it off, before he puts it aside and sits next to Che on the couch.