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There’s a wicked, horrible pounding in Andrew’s chest. He’s bounding out of his car and up the few steps to the hospital doors, breath coming short. He’s aware of nothing except his legs, moving at too fast a pace – like they know if they slow down they’ll just give out under him. He all but sprints to the front desk.
“Steven Lim,” he chokes out, no preamble. The nurse’s speech falters, she’d been talking to another woman, and turns to stare at him openmouthed for a second-long pause that feels like maybe years to Andrew. He senses his left eye twitching, hands gripping the counter so hard they shake. The woman beside him gives Andrew a festering glare that falls flat, melts off her face as soon as she sees him. It’s so unlike him, to be like this – full force with no tact or polite smiles, ‘hi i’m sorry to bother you’s. So unlike him. He doesn’t fucking care. “Where’s Steven Lim?” his voice is a croak.
--
Andrew had figured it out weeks ago. Self-realisation, watching Steven take the food from his chopsticks, apples of his cheeks swell the way they just do when Andrew feeds him, when Steven likes what he eats, when he’s so happy he can’t stop showing it on his traitorous face. It clicked then like clicking off the safety on a gun, weapon cocked and aiming. Like now all he had to do was shoot. He’d figured it out then, that he’s in love with Steven Lim, and spent the subsequent weeks doing the most to stamp out this fire that had been raging for so long but had only just been acknowledged.
He was mostly proud of himself – for not acting strange, or withering away from Steven’s friendship, for not raising suspicion (in anyone save for, perhaps, Adam – though Adam knew all along, didn’t he?), for pacing himself maturely around the subject. College Andrew would’ve probably gotten smashed, moped around for as long as circumstance would allow it – but not now, not when this time it would hurt too much, might even end up hurting Steven. He set up a Tinder profile, and vowed to move on. Ashly had raised both eyebrows at him and told him he was being absolutely fucking mental when he told her – but she’d dropped it at that. This was for the best.
(“You know, there are better ways than this.” she wasn’t looking at him, looking straight ahead onto the road from the passenger’s seat of his car. He didn’t speak, waited for her to continue. “There’s another way, to this.” she went, and Andrew held in a pitifully self-depreciative chuckle, and steeled himself with eyes on the road like she had. The last part, she spoke as barely a whisper: “You could just tell him.” and no, he could not.)
--
Andrew was nervously playing with a fold in the tablecloth when the call came through. He smiles politely at his date – a nice girl named Cynthia, petite with an adorably wide freckled nose – and tries his damnedest to act like he doesn’t care to check. After the fifth ring, Cynthia urges him to pick it up.
Mr. Ilnyckyj? The voice coming through is thin, tinny. He confirms it’s him without bothering to correct the pronunciation, and the lady continues, telling him which hospital she’s calling from – Andrew blanches at that. You’ve been put down as Steven Lim’s emergency contact, he’s been in a car accident and is currently in the OR-
Andrew nearly collapses, his chair falling back behind him as he stands up – too fast, growing dizzy from the movement and the words still ringing in his head. Cynthia stands up too, much gentler, at his visible alarm.
Mr. Ilnyckyj, are you still there?
There’s a pounding in his head like a blood drum that he’s only just noticing, which quiets, and he gulps.
“Y-yeah,” his voice is rough. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m on my way.” There’s a wide-eyed, frozen moment before he pulls the receiver from his face to hang up where he stares blankly ahead of him, feels the world around him cave in. Cynthia softly touches his forearm, coaxing his eyes to hers.
“Andrew – are you okay?” Andrew stares at the ground, at her face, at his feet, still wide-eyed, still shaking. He’s shaking. His shoulders are stiff and he’s shaking.
“I- I’m so sorry. Someone’s in the. In the hospital. He’s – in,” Cynthia shushes him with care.
“Andrew, don’t apologize? Let’s go, okay? I’ll take an uber, you need to go to your friend.” Andrew nods dumbly and picks up his coat jacket – feeling so incredibly stupid, and useless, for being impressed that he could even do that much. They tell the approaching server what’s happened – or, Cynthia does while Andrew still looks like a deer in the headlights, and they walk out into the cold.
The temperature helps in biting Andrew back into reality, the here and now, and he’s frantic in apologizing to Cynthia and insisting he drive her home – it’s on his way anyway, and he’d feel even worse if she had to take an Uber.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she sounds worried, and not just for her safety – she seems to genuinely care if Andrew’s okay, which he thinks might make him cry. “I mean, we could both take the Uber – you’re within your rights to be freaked out.” Andrew openly stares at her and wonders how the fuck she’s being so kind and understanding and he’s still unable to think about anyone but Steven – accidents nonwithstanding.
“I’m okay now. I mean- I’m not. Okay that is, but- I’m okay to drive is what I mean. I think it’ll help me calm down too, having to focus on something mechanical.” And he doesn’t think he could bare to wait for an Uber, he has to be there now. She nods curtly, smiles before getting into his car.
They drive out of the restaurant parking lot in silence for a while, and then Andrew speaks up.
“I really am so sorry, Cynthia.” he sneaks a look at her. “You’re really great, you deserved a nice night out. Not... this,” he manages to huff a laugh at the irony of the situation and she gives him a placating smile.
“Andrew, it really is fine – this was beyond your control. Maybe it was for the best, too-“ Andrew turns to look at her in puzzlement. “-Not like! Not that your friend got hurt, at all. It’s just – it seemed a little like, your head was in another place tonight,” Andrew nods, at that. “And, maybe – my head was in another place too.” There’s a pregnant pause, and then they both smile and exhale through their noses.
“I’m still definitely going to send flowers to your desk to make up for this, maybe help in making... whoever your head was at a little jealous?” he’s not looking at her, but he knows they’re both smiling (if a little pensively). She punches him playfully on the arm. He’s so grateful that he wasn’t alone when he took that phone call. He’s so grateful for this moment distracting him from the very real nausea settling in his stomach.
“It’s a deal.”
--
The hospital is warm, well-heated, which is pleasant but does nothing to deter the piercing coldness of the lighting and the steel and everything around him looking sterile and unwelcoming. He figures that’s the point, hospitals aren’t hotels – you don’t want to stay in them, they shouldn’t advertise themselves as that. As soon as he has the thought, he can hear Steven’s voice at the back of his head saying “You’re so silly, just because this isn’t exactly a fun place to be doesn’t mean it shouldn’t at least feel more homey” and he almost hurls. He’s been waiting for over two hours and the only thing keeping his foot from nervously tapping on the tiles consistently is the bone-melting exhaustion closing in on him after the shock wore off. He plays the doctor’s words in his mind like a nursery rhyme, a comfort – “Steven’s going to be fine, he’s under a lot of sedation right now, but there was no severe internal damage and the surgery went smoothly. Steven’s going to be fine, he’s under a lot of sedation right now,but there was no severe internal damage and the surgery went smoothly-” He thinks he maybe could have dozed off in that span of waiting but – he was pretty sure only horse tranquilizer darts would have managed to knock him out, make him sleep knowing Steven was feet away, possibly – just in another room and in what he can only imagine is terrific pain. Fuck, he doesn’t want to think about that.
He sees the young doctor he’d spoken to before (Ramirez – he’d noticed the name tag with only half a mind) enter the waiting room with a clipboard, making his way towards him, towards Andrew, and he stands up with his hands balled at his sides, nervous energy coursing through him like an electric pole. Andrew searches the doctor’s face, barely registering anything he was saying, brain only kicking into gear when he notices the words “He’s awake”. He tamps down the very real urge to just run into whichever room he thinks Steven’s in, just to see him.
“Can I see him?” Andrew realises he’d interrupted him a second too late, and they both freeze before a sweet smile carves its way onto the doctor’s face.
“Yes, Andrew. You may see him.”
Dr. Ramirez leads the way down the hall for Andrew, who – for all his reckless need to see Steven – paces himself at a distance behind him. The doctor gives him another brief smile (Andrew can’t help but notice that smiling makes him look older, but not in a negative way – more sure of himself, stately), holding the door open for Andrew. He hesitates for half a second before stepping in, every nerve ending on high alert before he sets eyes on Steven.
Steven, sitting up with a broad smile on his face – and wincing, and then giggling – and Steven, who put Andrew down as his emergency fucking contact, and Steven, who’d just been through a major surgery after having a concussion and mutliple trauma wounds. Steven. He doesn’t think he can remember how to breathe until he hears the click of the door shutting, grounding him in reality again.
“Hi.” Andrew’s voice is raw, almost as if unused for hours – it mostly had been. Steven’s smile blossoms even deeper on his face. Andrew thinks his chest might burst – grow too big for his chest, rip at his seams and then he’d need sutures (good thing he’s already in the hospital then).
“Hi. Hey- er. Dr. Ramirez told me you, you’ve been waiting for me for more than four hours?” and – shit – had it really been four hours? “Is that true?” Steven asks with such reverence, and maybe a hint of worry – not like he doesn’t believe it’s true but mostly like – like Andrew confirming it means something else to Steven entirely. Andrew nods, too vigorously. God, he’s so tired.
“Yeah – you put me as your emergency contact?” He’s closer to the bed now and they’re both smiling; Andrew might faint from relief. He can see Steven’s expression turn sheepish as he takes a seat in the chair near him.
“Shit, yeah. I didn’t tell you about that. Sorry-“
“No, I’m glad you did -“
“- It’s just that – my family is just so far out of state it wouldn’t really make a difference,”
“Steven-“
“- plus I don’t think they’d take kindly to hearing any kind of. News like this over the phone from a stranger, you know?”
Because I took super kindly to it. Ha. Andrew bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t mean to think it, and it’s not nearly as bitter as it might seem – he’s overwhelmed with how much, just how fucking much he’s happy to see Steven.
“Steven.” his tone is firm, but not reproaching. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the one that’s sweet around the edges he only saves for things like puppies, good cake, and Steven. “I’m actually unbelievably flattered, if that word is even close to good enough.” Steven’s staring wide eyed. “I was definitely surprised but –“ Andrew licks his bottom lip, parsing through his words (he thinks he notices Steven trace the movement with his eyes but, not a chance). “You know. It’s us.” He gesticulates, lets out an exhale that melts into a chuckle, for Steven.
“Yeah,” Steven’s voice is a whisper. “Nothing else made sense to me when I did it.” Steven lets his eyes wander around the hospital room, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and Andrew holds his breath. “You’re like my person-“ Something clicks in Steven’s head – Andrew senses it immediately, even as his heartbeat stutters arrhythmically at what Steven’s just said. “Oh my god, we’re in a hospital-“ Andrew rolls his eyes – “Like, like- Cristina and Meredith had that whole ‘i’m your person’ thing, in Grey’s Anatomy? Remember? Did you even watch Grey’s Anato-“
“Oh my god, Steven, you cannot possibly be having this train of thought right now,” Andrew shakes his head incredulously, unable to stop himself from smiling as he brings the chair closer. “I’m really happy you’re. Like, really glad – that-“
“That I’m alive?” Steven’s expression is soft now. Andrew’s eyes fly to meet Steven’s and he nods, almost hesitantly.
“I mean, of course you would be. You’re not allowed to die before I’ve spent at least five hundred years with you.”
“Five hundred?” Steven’s giggling again, and Andrew wants to bottle up this moment and pour it in his bath salts and soak in it forever. “That’s a little ambitious.”
“A little? What would a lot be like?” he laughs.
“I don’t know... at least two thousand?” his voice goes up in pitch at the end, and Andrew realises with what feels like a punch to his trachea that on the car ride on the way here he had almost entirely resigned himself to never having a moment like this again. That he had lost Steven for good.
“I know it’s not your fault you got hurt but – don’t ever do anything like this again.” the ‘to me’ in his tone is implicit, and Andrew is almost certain Steven gets it.
The tone of the conversation is still light, in a way, but they both know Andrew means what he said with its full weight. Andrew realises maybe too late that he’s begun to cry, a little. He gulps, trying to rein it in. “Shit-“ Andrew clears his throat, trying to dissolve the lump there. “-sorry, sorry I don’t mean to get all weird on you, especially after what you went through, I’m just – the shock, and the no sleeping and, you get it-“ Steven nods as Andrew looks at him. He’s still staring dumbly when he feels Steven’s fingers lock with his, and he doesn’t look down, just squeezes.
“So, when can we get you out of here?”
--
It’s three months later that Steven attempts to drive again. His hands still shake around the steering wheel, and he asks Andrew to come along, just so he can feel safe. They decide not to dwell on the implication that Andrew is somehow a comfort to Steven. They’re driving in circles in the buzzfeed parking lot well after most of their coworkers are gone, so the lot is almost empty, and Steven is doing his breathing exercises and clenching his jaw.
Somewhere along the car ride, and after Steven swerved the car in all directions in a panic, Andrew’s hand found its way on Steven’s thigh, squeezing. Steven’s heartbeat remains loud in his ears but this time the sound isn’t panic, though it’s still a feeling laced with nerves – something else entirely, like an adolescent kind of enthrallment that fills his bones with adrenaline. He makes fifteen more perfect circles and doesn’t shake around the wheel once – mind too occupied with the increasingly warm hand on his leg.
Andrew had been driving him to and from work until then, for the most part. Steven still had a problem with looking at the road even as a passenger, busying himself with his phone or his shoelaces or just staring at Andrew until his surroundings faded to a colourful blur where only Andrew was in sharp and stark clearness.
“Your eyes are so fucking green.” he had said once.
And – huh? He cocked his head at Steven, whose cheeks were a saturated pink. “-The, sorry – I just noticed, they’re really bright in this lighting.” and Steven had the advantage here, because Andrew had to look at the road, and couldn’t study Steven’s face like Steven could. He saw the smirk on Andrew’s lips, and his adam’s apple bob, and the way his ears reddened at the tips. Steven spent the rest of that car ride staring at his lap and pretending to be extremely interested in his screenshots folder.
It takes a few test drives for Steven to be able to drive on actual roads again, and Andrew always makes him promise he’ll tell him when he goes for rides – and Steven does (even through hesitation – he never wants to be a burden on Andrew’s schedule). But Andrew never falters, he’s always there when Steven wants to try again, always parked outside his house, ready to be in the passenger seat for Steven (to squeeze at his thigh when he sees the way Steven’s eyes nervously scan the horizon).
“You know, one of these days you’re gonna have to let me drive on my own, right?” Steven says lightly, and he’s not looking but he just knows Andrew rolls his eyes.
“Quit nagging, Steven,” the softness of his smile leaks into his voice. There’s a sigh escaping Steven, absently, and he hates that he sounds so lovelorn.
“Oh shush.”
--
“So now that it doesn’t even hurt a bit anymore, I can definitely appreciate the benefits of this cool ass scar,” And Steven has no right looking this enthusiastic about the huge white seam down his side, standing out on his tanned skin. He folds his shirt up to his ribcage, staring at it in the mirror. Andrew’s eyebrows shoot up and he has to swallow around the lump in his throat because, oh my god holy fuck what the fuck – that has got to be the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed, and he hates that he thinks so.
“Definitely like you got it in a cool knife fight on one of your nightly vigilante missions,” Andrew comes up behind him, staring at the scar through the office bathroom mirror.
“Glad we agree!” Steven twists around to smile at Andrew not-through a mirror, and they’re so close, too close too suddenly, that Andrew takes an instinctive step back. Steven’s smile shakes only for a moment that Andrew’s almost sure he imagines, and then the shirt’s dropped back into place – and Andrew wants to bang his head on the stall door behind him, just for being disappointed that Steven is clothed again. Like a fool and an idiot. A gay idiot.
“Okay let’s get back to work!” Andrew internally winces at how higher pitched his voice sounds, making his way out first, hoping Steven doesn’t think he’s being weird. Which he totally is.
--
“You’re being weird.”
They’re on the sofa in Adam’s house, Andrew lying on his side curled up next to Steven – a ‘brainstorming session’ that turned predictably into movie night –while Adam is in the kitchen waiting on the popcorn.
“What do you mean?” Andrew twists his head so he can look up at Steven from his vantage point, and notices Steven’s hand is... extremely close to his mouth. Fuck.
“Idunno – you’ve been very quiet all day,” Steven smiles down at him. “Like you’re thinking about something really hard and aren’t sure if you should talk about it.”
Andrew chuckles around a breath because, of course – Steven’s got him down precisely, making something very warm twist in his chest. There’s a beat and- “So? You gonna talk about it?” Andrew smiles up at Steven.
“Jury’s still out-“
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, and Andrew blows a raspberry in childish defiance, only an inch away from Steven’s fingers. He has a thought that’s so fleeting, but he has it –that if he just inclined his head so, he’d be speaking directly onto Steven’s hand, and maybe he could kiss it. He doesn’t move at all.
It’s in one of those moments where you can hear your own breathing that Steven taps his fingers, once, twice, on the sofa – and Andrew knows it’s deliberate. He can feel all his blood go to the tips of his ears, his fingers, his toes, and thanks every god listening in for the fact that all the lights are off save for the blue glow of the tv screen, washing out his blush. Andrew bites his lip. He could just – he could just do it, just plant one soft kiss on Steven’s fingers, and then it would be over and he would never think of it again. He risks a glance up at Steven again, his first mistake – Steven’s already looking at him, and they both gulp. Andrew feels his heartbeat hammering in his chest.
“Okay, so!” They snap away, Andrew abruptly sitting up in place. If he was blushing before, now Andrew’s sure he’s changed fucking skin tone. “Are we watching this movie or what?” Adam plops himself between them on the sofa, leaving Andrew with a poignant stare, even through a genuine smile. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or annoyed that Adam separated them – but Adam’s their best friend, so it’s not a bad bargain.
(It speaks volumes that Adam didn’t trust Andrew to control himself. Andrew’s glad for that mistrust. He doesn’t trust himself either.)
--
“The movie was good, eh?” Andrew broaches awkwardly as he buckles his seatbelt, as if he’d paid attention to the movie at all, as if he hadn’t spent most of it just sending sidelong glances at Steven like a 14 year old girl with a crush.
“Psshh, yea-“ Steven’s chuckle sizzles out of him like the sound from windchimes and Andrew finds himself, not for the first or last time, completely in awe. “-I mostly tuned it out, to be honest,” and Andrew is so jealous, so so jealous that Steven can just say that – because that’s Steven, he’s inattentive at best, always jiggling his leg or playing with his pens and he has the luxury of the excuse, where Andrew does not.
“Me too.” he says sheepish, under his breath and smiles at Steven like a secret. They ride back to Steven’s house first – Andrew’s driving this time, and they’re quiet for the most part, not daring to be the one to speak first. Andrew clears his throat clumsily.
“So...“
“So?” Steven looks at him. Andrew scours his brain for something to say, anything that isn’t So how about we make out in the back seat? or So how do you feel about the fact that I think about you all the time?
“So how’ve you been?” Great work, Ilnyckyj. Steven giggles and it’s worth all the headassery in the world.
“We see each other almost every day, Andrew, you know how I’ve been.”
“Yeah, I mean- about the, thing. How are you, emotionally?”
“I’m... good! Actually, really good. It’s better now that there’s no post-surgery pain or anything. I don’t feel weird in cars, either. It’s still weird trying to drive, though, but – as you know. I’m getting there.” Andrew can’t brace himself enough to turn and look at Steven now, but he knows what he must look like. Head cocked to the side, staring at Andrew like he’s invented a new way to feel love. And then. And then there’s that: as you know. As he knows. He does know, and Steven says it with such doting softness, it’s a bit like a stab wound in him.
“I’m glad, really. Won’t be needing me for test drives, soon enough!” he means for it to sound teasing, he really does. Steven playfully bats his arm.
“Won’t get rid of me that easy, Ilnyckyj. You know I’m a fan of your company.”
“Oh, you are?” Andrew’s at a stoplight now, so he turns and looks at him, smirking. They make eye contact without saying anything for a few agonizing seconds where Steven’s eyes reflect the lampposts and look so artfully brown and Andrew kind of wants to hit his head on the steering wheel just to hear the resulting car honk.
“Hey, Andrew, didn’t know you were a fisherman,” Steven’s face splits into a grin.
“What?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you know, here you are, fishing for compliments-“ Andrew groans and rolls his eyes, turning his face back onto the road. “Hey! Don’t be like that, it was a good one-“ Andrew can hear the smile in Steven’s voice.
“You’re an amateur playing the big leagues, Steven.”
“Wow, humble.” Andrew shrugs at that, unable to stop smiling.
They sit in silence for a few more minutes, but this time it’s different – it’s so comfortable, lacking the tension from earlier. Andrew makes the few turns left and pulls up to Steven’s house, that familiar almost-dread sinking through his stomach. He has to say goodbye now for the night, and he feels like such an idiot for not wanting to.
“We’re here.” Andrew says, looking at the house through the window. Like an announcement to no one but himself.
“Yep. Sure are,” Steven’s looking at it too, but makes no move to get out. His hand drifts to his seatbelt, and hovers in hesitation. If he asks him in for coffee or a beer or literally anything it would come off so inappropriate – or rather – too close to the truth, but Steven doesn’t want to go there, not yet, not at all. He wonders if maybe saying nothing would be better. “Do you wanna-“ he lets the question hang, not sure what he wants to say. Andrew looks at him. “-Come over tomorrow and look at some of the footage we got? There are some bits I don’t know if you’d want to keep in the video, and meant to ask you about it at work. They’re pretty funny-“
“Of course,” Andrew’s face melts into a smile.
“Cool, sure, yes.” He unfastens the seatbelt. “So, text me when you want to swing by?”
“Will do.” He raises one arm in an awkward goodbye gesture, hopes his smile isn’t too eager.
“Cool, okay – goodnight, Andrew.” Steven says through the open car window as he shuts the door, smiling at him. Andrew could hold onto this mental image forever.
“’Night-“ he falters, fuck – Andrew was about to call him babe, Andrew was about to call Steven ‘babe’. “-Steven.”
--
Andrew nervously stares at his shoe, foot tapping, hands routinely cuffing and uncuffing the sleeves of his white linen shirt. Steven has a shirt like this. He smiles to himself just as the door flies open.
“Hey!” Steven looks flushed and the lump in Andrew’s throat drops like a hot coal to the pit of his stomach.
“Hi- hope I’m not too early?”
“You’re always right on time,” Steven holds the door and steps to the side, and Andrew walks in.
Steven’s smile is light and familiar on his face and he near skips into the kitchen to offer Andrew something to drink. He suddenly feels foolish, for the heat on his cheeks, for spending half an hour deliberating his outfit, for the fact that this is not a date, this is absolutely not a date, and he and Steven have done a million things more date-like than this dumb casual hangout anyway, so why is Andrew complicating things for himself by putting his feelings in the limelight? If he’d been speaking, Andrew would have run out of breath by now with the speed his thoughts are buzzing at.
Steven is peering into his fridge with the stature and piercing gaze of a detective, listing beverages for Andrew to choose from. Andrew is leaning on the doorframe watching Steven - the whole situation makes something syrupy well up inside him and he feels sticky from the sweetness of it. He accepts lemonade, and Steven pulls it out of the fridge and turns. Andrew’s still watching him with an amused smile, and Steven freezes for a second.
Steven feels the bottle of lemonade in his hands very acutely contrast in temperature with his fingers, suddenly wanting to shove his face back into the refrigerator. God what the fuck he looks so hot. There’s quite something to be said about the sight of Andrew, cheeks and lips unbelievably saturated red, leaning against his kitchen doorframe. Steven chokes back what might have been a sob, if he’d been unlucky enough to let it out.
“Okay so uh- let’s go look at? The footage,” Steven’s grabbed two glasses and filled them up in record speed, avoiding looking at Andrew like the sight of him might singe his eyes. Andrew makes no move to leave, and Steven brushes past him in his effort to get to the living room, where Andrew’s extended his hand to take his glass of lemonade. The parts of Steven’s body that make contact with Andrew – shoulder, back of the hand, thigh – still tingle. Steven pauses, hands the glass to Andrew and they’re so close, they’re so close Steven can see the flush on Andrew’s cheeks like the details on a watercolour. The second where Andrew’s fingers graze his feels like five whole minutes of contact.
And then - Andrew licks his lips. Steven’s reaction is instinctive – humans are hardwired to reflexively look at motion – he looks down to Andrew’s mouth. They both clear their throats, and part simultaneously before walking to the living room in silence that hangs awkwardly above them.
The thing about Steven and Andrew is that they’re trained to each other like two solar systems in syncronized orbit. They’ve had arguments and they go through bouts of tension (plenty of that), but after a modicum of time spent together they find their footing like they never lost it. It’s impressive, and awe-inspiring, and Adam’s taken to observing it actively. But here – in Steven’s home nestled closely on his couch, it’s as obvious as ever. Five minutes into reviewing the videos it’s like their freaky encounter in the kitchen never happened in this universe, thighs pressing together, all smiling and jokes and Steven shoves at Andrew when he makes fun of him for something he said on film and it’s all so disgustingly domestic Andrew thinks his teeth might rot and fall off.
Video Steven offhandedly mentions his scar again and Andrew hits the spacebar to pause.
“You’re incapable of going five minutes without talking about your cool new scar,” he’s smiling too much for any of it to have any real bite, and Steven returns the expression.
“Shut up, it’s super cool, and it looks even better now that it’s healed,” Steven chuckles, and Andrew finds himself transported back to that day in the office bathrooms where Steven had lifted his shirt and Andrew almost hit his head on the wall and has to steel himself again as he sees the mental image of him going on his knees in front of Steven to run his tongue along the fucking scar – and shivers. His thoughts must show on his face because Steven’s smile falls in confused interest.
“I don’t- I don’t believe that it looks cool. I think you’ll have to show me again.” Andrew swallows down and stares Steven in the eye – who’s staring back, unblinking.
“What.” it comes out a breath. Andrew’s voice is even lower than usual, and it makes something primal scream in Steven.
“I said – I want to see your scar.” Andrew gently tugs on the hem of Steven’s shirt, and Steven relents, pulling up the fabric slowly.
“Why.” he’s barely capable of letting out more than one syllable, mind short-circuiting around the very real heat of the situation, and Andrew drags his eyes from the scar to Steven’s face, and Steven finally snaps. “-fuck.”
His hand curls around Andrew’s neck, and he hasn’t even managed to close the distance before Andrew beats him to it, hungrily surging forward and pushing Steven back into the cushions. Steven lets out a surprised whine, his hand curling where he’s holding Andrew’s nape and his nails dig in – Andrew groans.
Andrew’s hands fly to Steven’s hips, holding him there, and he strokes at the skin poking from under his shirt with a thumb – which catches over the ridge of Steven’s scar. Steven’s breathing hitches and Andrew presses down. Steven’s other hand tugs Andrew closer by the shirt.
“You have no fucking idea-“ Andrew mutters through open mouthed kisses.
“I think I have some idea,” Steven smiles, and Andrew has to let out a puff of laughter against his lips.
“Do tell,” Andrew lazily runs his tongue along Steven’s lower lip and Steven mewls. He chases after Andrew’s mouth when he pulls away a bit.
“I’ve just really wanted you to like, shove me into a wall and kiss me, for a really long time?” Andrew has to exhale sharply at that, coming like a punch to the gut.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve tried to not think about shoving you into a wall and kissing you for the longest time, you’re telling me we could’ve been doing this instead?” He smiles, pressing his forehead against Steven’s.
“Uh huh,” Steven nods enthusiastically, tugs at the collar of Andrew’s shirt again. “You know I love talking, but we should really stop if we want to do more of this,” Steven’s words strain with a hot urgency and Andrew almost keens into his neck. “And I really-“ Steven pushes Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew falls back. “Really want to do more of this.” Steven pauses, lets his head fall onto the crook of Andrew’s neck before he takes a steadying breath and climbs onto his lap. Steven is straddling Andrew, and Andrew thinks he might actually pass out this time.
“Oh my god, Steven-“
“This is as surprising to me as it is to you,” Steven’s blush is high on his cheeks and he bites down sharply on his lip, looking extremely nervous. Andrew wants to kiss him again. He gently swipes his thumb along Steven’s lips, and Steven lets his mouth open. Andrew has that thought again, this time in reverse – if he just moved his thumb so, it would be in Steven’s mouth. The thought sends an electric shock down his spine. He tugs on Steven’s lower lip and Steven’s eyes shut, the colour in his cheeks growing bolder. Now Andrew really wants to kiss him.
He leans up into Steven, hand sliding into his hair and they kiss again – Andrew’s hips unconsciously rolling when he sits back in place. Steven’s hands grip his shoulders impossibly tight and he sighs into his mouth – and Andrew wants to feel that again.
“Do that again,” Steven’s eyes widen at his own words, seemingly tumbling out of him without him thinking. They stare at each other for a long second before Andrew tentatively undulates again, still maintaining eye contact. “Shit-“ Steven mutters under his breath. Shit’s right, Andrew thinks, and lets out a laugh just as Steven kisses him.
The air is tense around them, but this time their bodies are fit for the atmosphere, Andrew’s hands running hot down Steven’s arms, Steven moaning into Andrew’s mouth. Steven absently resituates his hips, grinding down on Andrew without meaning to and Andrew instinctively bites at Steven’s lip. Steven groans.
“We should-“ Steven’s panting, he swallows around air. “We shouldn’t,”
“Oh,” Andrew’s face falls but he makes a move to push Steven off of him, fear beginning to throb in his temples that he fucked up, he so fucked up.
“No –Nonono – no! I mean-“ Steven smiles. “We shouldn’t.... not yet.” Andrew’s staring wide eyed at him before his face melts into pure adoration.
“Shouldn’t what?” he’s thumbing circles into Steven’s hips, pushing his shirt up involuntarily – Steven shudders. He knows what Andrew’s doing and he hates him for it.
“You know.”
“Do I?”
“We shouldn’t..-”
“Have sex?” Andrew supplies mercifully, a second too late – Steven speaks simultaneously:
“We shouldn’t fuck yet,” the blush on Steven’s cheeks is obvious, and Andrew wants to kiss it so that it stays there for as long as possible.
“Oh my god,” Andrew’s grin is infectious and too wide to be real.
“Shut up-“ Steven buries his face into Andrew’s neck, and Andrew strokes his lower back.
“I got you,”
“But we can keep doing this – if you want to?” Steven seems worried now, and pulls away to stare at Andrew with what is obviously conscious effort. He’s still impossibly red.
“This being...” Andrew knows he’s pushing it – he half asks to be sure they’re on the same page, half just because he finds he loves hearing Steven say things. Like this.
“Making out?” His voice goes higher at the end, and Andrew lets out a lovelorn sigh at him – there’s nothing about Steven Lim he doesn’t want to experience every day for the rest of his life. Andrew can’t stop smiling.
“God, I am so in love with you,” It comes out in one breath, and he playfully tugs at Steven’s elbow – he freezes. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. It’s too much too fast and now he’s definitely fucked up – fuck, fuck why does he keep doing thi-
“You- wha?” Steven sits up straighter in Andrew’s lap, and this seating arrangement is really unideal for the conversation Andrew thinks they’re about to have. He props himself a bit higher on the sofa too (their hips collide again and it sends a pinch of pleasure through his entire body, Andrew has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to ignore it). “Did you- I... Andrew, did you mean that?”
“Sh- it’s.. okay. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have sai-“
“No, shut the fuck up, Andrew,” Steven leans in and forces Andrew to look him in the eye. He’s seen him this serious, this intense before – on very few, very rare occasions – but never directed at him. It’s kind of hot, and unsettling, and makes his nerves tangle even worse.“Did you mean that?”
“Yes.” they’re both speaking in low whispers, holding eye contact too heavy for either of them to dare look away, but Steven breaks it first. He falters, stares all over Andrew’s face – his eyes, his hair, his mouth, his nose, the sweet little creases at the corners of his lips – looking like he’s been shipwrecked for too long and Andrew’s his map back home. Andrew feels his heart climb all the way into his throat and threaten to choke him. He doesn’t know what to do, how to fix this.
“Say it again.”
Andrew kind of wants to groan lowly, because Steven’s being so demanding, and so desparate at the same time – and if he had any of his brain functions left he might be able to read between the lines and figure out that this means Steven feels the same, but he doesn’t, he’s a fool – so he just bites his lower lip and takes a breath.
“I’m in love with you, Steven.”
Steven lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for years, his hands coming up to cradle Andrew’s face, his neck, run through his hair. He’s looking into his eyes again, unblinking.
“God, Andrew- I-“
“I-“ Steven puts a finger to Andrew’s lips, and they both look down – Steven almost letting himself get distracted by the softness of Andrew’s mouth.
“Please, I have to say this- Andrew-“ Steven takes a steadying breath, but it goes in shaky, and Andrew tightens his grip on instinct – always reassuring, always there for Steven. Andrew gulps, expecting the worst – sugarcoated, delivered so sweetly, so precisely and delicately by Steven, because only Steven could; and somehow that would be even worse than the worst. “I-“ he trails off again. Andrew can’t take this.
“You can say it, go on,” his voice rasps – from the arousal or the lump in his throat – and it’s tender, coaxing Steven to just do it, rip the bandaid off. It’s better this way.
Steven’s hands are back in Andrew’s hair again, and he traces a thumb down to touch the edge of Andrew’s lips, so reverently.
“I really thought. I really thought I would have to spend my whole life pretending not to want you.”
Andrew freezes. He lets out an Oh? half between a question and a realisation.
“I have been in love with you for so long, Andrew, it’s kind of pathetic.” The world stops. Steven is searching Andrew’s eyes, chest heaving from his nervous breaths.
The air in Andrew’s lungs swells with so much relief, sweetness, it almost hurts how much like springtime it feels.
“It’s safe to say, we’re total idiots.” Andrew whispers into the bare inch of space between their lips, inclining his head forward just a bit.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“Steven,”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me ask.” Andrew’s eyes finally look away from Steven’s lips and into his eyes. He can pinpoint the exact second Steven gets it, the mischief in his gaze electric.
“Ask what?” The little jerk.
“Oh, fuck you,”
“Maybe next time.” Steven’s sly smile grows even wider, and Andrew can’t stop himself from grabbing onto his neck and bringing him forward to kiss him. It’s open-mouthed and so warm, and they break apart only to meet again before Andrew says “You’re insufferable,” to which Steven replies;
“Just keep kissing me.”