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Dan is off, and Arin notices it immediately. They’ve just always had this paranormal sense about each other, even before they were really close, but it’s only intensified lately. Arin can only compare it to what he has with Suzy, which didn’t make sense to him until they started dating. He didn’t understand how he just knew everything about Dan, and vice versa.
Dan is slouching, trying to become one with the couch, and he looks a little bit like he needs a good cry, but is holding it off to do some adulting instead. His hair is frazzled, wild, sticking up in all directions, a sign that he’s been running his hands through it, a nervous tick he hasn’t quite shaken. He looks pale and cold, seeing as he’s wrapped himself up protectively in a nondescript sweatshirt he stole from Arin.
(Arin remembers Dan sneaking it out of his mini like he was so clever, but he’s never once called Dan out on it. It was small on him anyway, and he never gets tired of seeing Dan in his clothes.)
He shifts, moving towards Dan, but the older man curls up slightly, inching away from Arin’s comfort.
“Did I do something wrong?” Arin can’t deny that he’s a bit hurt. He always gets a little nervous around Dan, aware that all of this is new to the older man in a lot of scary ways, and despite all he can read his boyfriend, he’s never quite sure what to do when Dan gets like this. It’s rare, which he’s grateful for, but it doesn’t make his anxiety about it go away.
Dan sighs like he’s carrying around the weight of the world, and shakes his head. “No, of course not.” He lifts his head, smiling at Arin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was just up half the night being sick. I ate something I shouldn’t have. It was suspect, but I trusted it, and was let down.”
Arin frowns, nodding in sympathy. Dan’s been very careful about his chronic illness, watching what he eats as carefully as someone with a severe food allergy, but there are occasional slip-ups, and they are bound to happen, particularly in social settings. “I’m sorry, man. Maybe we should just cancel Grumps for the day.” He doesn’t want to, because they’re running a little low on episodes, but ultimately, Dan’s wellbeing is more important than the show.
Dan shakes his head again. He looks tired and ill, the lines clearly etched into his skin. He never looks old, except when he’s tired like this. “It’s just my body dragging me down,” he says, a bit morosely. “It doesn’t define me, or what I choose to do with my life. The feeling will pass, and I’ll get over it. It just sucks in the meantime.” It sounds like a well-rehearsed mantra, and Dan is reciting it like lines in a script.
“C’mere,” Arin opens his arms, offering his side. Dan sits sullenly for a long moment, then shifts, crawling over to lay against Arin, his head resting on his shoulder. His whole body is tense, particularly his abs, where he is no doubt still in pain, still feeling the repercussions of an honest mistake. Arin lifts Dan up into his lap, letting Dan lie against him. Heat helps; Arin knows from experience. And Dan always tells him that he’s a space heater with legs.
As predicted, Dan eventually sighs, relaxing fully against Arin. They’re belly to belly, and Arin can feel Dan breathing evenly against him. It seems like Dan might fall asleep if left to his own devices.
Then, he shifts, lifting himself away from Arin with a soft grunt of effort. (His stomach pains feel like sharp stabs, and they take a lot out of him, so it’s unsurprising that he’s having difficulty moving.) Arin’s eyes follow him curiously, only relaxing when Dan leans forward and kisses him.
It’s not a “please fuck me” kiss. It’s not a “I want to fuck you” kiss. It’s not even a “God, you’re so fucking hot” kiss. It’s more like an “I love you more than words can express” kiss. When he pulls away, Dan is smiling, his eyes watery. “Thank you,” he says softly, sniffling a little. “I feel so much better now.”
“I’m glad.” Arin smiles, his hand straying to Dan’s hip, sliding down to his thigh, more to signify support than any kind of hint that he wants more. (He doesn’t.) He closes his eyes like a content cat, though, when Dan’s hand slides around his neck, fingers lightly resting between strands of his hair.
Dan leans forward again, lying fully against him, and Arin shifts to better accommodate Dan. He presses a few light, teasing kisses against Dan’s sensitive neck, and gets a slight shiver and a soft “Oh!” in response.
He presses one more kiss…then blows a raspberry.
The reaction is immediate. Dan collapses against him, laughing warmly, his face digging into Arin’s neck. “A-Arin!” He gasps, one hand straying to his stomach. “Fucking…ow—haha!”
“Shit,” Arin says with feeling, running his hand soothingly down Dan’s back. “I’m sorry. That probably didn’t feel very good for your stomach.”
“No,” Dan admits, chuckling into Arin’s neck and pressing a return kiss there, “but it felt amazing in my heart. It’s just what I needed, dude.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around Arin’s neck, linking them together. Arin wraps his arms around Dan as well, holding his lover close. He loves having his special ones near him, taking comfort in him. It makes him feel protective, and it’s the only time he feels fully confident with his size.
Dan shifts, and Arin shifts with him. “I should go make some tea so we can start recording.”
“In a minute,” Arin holds Dan close to his chest, squeezing him gently. “Let me hold you for a sec.”
“Those are two very different measurements of time,” Dan retorts smartly, but his voice is sleepy, and he yawns.
Arin smiles, cuddling Dan close as he dozes, the lights in the Grump room dim enough that he can get some sleep as well.