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A month into their move to Boston, Holster starts acting weird.
Or rather, Justin’s pretty sure that Holster starts acting weird, but he’s too freaking tired to call him out on it.
They’ve been living together for literally years before their move so it’s an easy transition. If anything, it’s better, because they get their own rooms and their own beds that they can actually fit on. They grocery shop on Saturday afternoons because it’s less crowded than Sunday afternoons, and they cook together most nights, only ordering take-out when they absolutely have to. They start talking about adopting a dog, or maybe a cat because they’re less high-maintenance than dogs are and they’re not sure if they’re ready for that kind of responsibility yet.
But there are some moments that feel different, and Justin’s pretty sure he’s not reading into them. Some morning, over mugs of coffee, Holster’s gaze will linger maybe just a touch too long. And some evenings, Justin will wake up after dozing off over Hulu at Holster hopping quickly off the couch, like his proximity to Justin was maybe a touch too close. Instead of actually helping Justin pick out ties for his meetings, Holster vaguely waves in his direction and leaves him to him fend for himself.
It’s little things, but it’s something.
Another month into it though, when Justin brings up adopting a cat another time, Holster starts stumbling over his words. Stuttering out excuses as to why it won’t work, feigning indifference like he has no real opinion, mostly hoping to shove it under the carpet.
Justin’s over it.
“You’re acting weird,” he says. Holster scoffs. “Really, Holtz. What’s going on?”
“Why do you think I’m acting weird?” he asks. “Because I don’t want to adopt a cat with you?”
“I mean…” Justin frowns. Or pouts, rather, but he tries to be more dignified than that. “It’s the small shit,” Justin says, waving his hands around. Holster has since sunk down onto the couch but Justin’s standing, pacing around their apartment like he’s practicing for a presentation the next day. “Like you’re trying to distance yourself from me, I guess?”
Holster’s eyes widen. “Rans, no!” He sits up on the couch. “That’s not--God, of course that’s not it, man.”
Justin spins back around to face him, pointing toward his friend. “Then it’s something.” There was that nagging feeling that was always there, tugging at Justin’s ear saying look, but he couldn’t figure out what it was, or why. But he knew it was there. “What is it?”
“It’s--” Holster huffs. He groans. He drops his head into his hands. “Just forget it, Rans.”
“Did I do something?” Ransom pushes. He knew that things would be different after college, but he didn’t think they’d feel off. They still have their people, Shitty and Lardo and Jack, Bitty and everyone at Samwell hockey. But if they don’t have each other then what’s the point? “Is it one of my habits? Because I’m not gonna know if me leaving a dish in the sink for 36 hours is pissing you off unless you tell me it is.”
“It’s not that,” Holster insists, and then huffs again as though he’s frustrated he’s said anything. He threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, letting out a sharp breath. Holster looks up. “What are you doing this weekend?” he asks.
Justin shakes his head, holding out his hands as though laying it out. “Saturday shopping like always. Hoping to go to the farmer’s market this time too,” he says. “Then--Jack’s game? Are we going? Or it’s--”
“Out of town, yeah.”
“Right. So we’ll watch? We can have Shitty and Lardo over, see if--”
“What about Friday night?” Holster cuts him off.
Justin shrugs. Holster knows his schedule. “Nothing, man. I’ll just be here.”
He watches Holster take an intentional breath before setting his eyes on him. There’s something unsettling about it that makes Justin’s chest feel cool, like he doesn’t have enough air in his lungs.
“Would you want to go on a date?” Holster asks.
Justin squints. “That’s it?” he wonders. “Like--a double date?” They went on a few in college, some better than others, but it was always fun. A change of pace. “That’s not a--”
“With me,” Holster interrupts. “Just me.”
Justin blinks. Something in his throat catches and suddenly he’s coughing in surprise. Justin turns away from him, starting to pace again. “What the fuck, Holster?” In a second, Holster’s on his feet. “Are you--” he spins back around. “You’re joking, yeah?”
“Just--Rans, listen.”
“A date? Like a real fucking date?” He turns away from Holster and starts pacing again, trying to place the feelings that are unearthing themselves in his stomach. It’s hot and it’s sticky and it burns his face--whether that be in shock or in shame he’s not sure. “With me? You can’t be--”
“Ransom,” Holster says firmly. Justin stops pacing. The silence between them is so loud that it’s making Justin ache. “You gave up med-school to follow me to this bullshit consulting lifestyle,” he says slowly, making sure that Justin hears every word. “And I’m not--I’m not knocking on that, Rans, I’m really not! I was surprised at first, but I get your reasons, man. It’s not--”
“Holster--”
“But you wanted to come with me,” he says. And he’s not wrong. “You’re my best friend,” Holster carries on when Justin doesn’t say anything, because at the moment he’s not really sure what it is he’s supposed to be arguing for. “And that’s all I’ve thought, it’s not like you’re acting any different. I mean--God. Fuck. It’s…” Holster drags his hand through his hair. “Sometimes we talk about adopting cats together, or familiar weekend plans, and it just feels like…” he trails off, like he wants Justin to know what he’s thinking.
“I…” Justin trails off, because he doesn’t know what Holster’s thinking.
“Okay,” Holster says easily. He lowers his hands and he nods, like he’s accepting an answer that Justin didn’t give. “I read this wrong.”
“Just, wait a second,” Justin stutters out. He’s all kinds of turned around. This is Holster. This isn’t coming out of nowhere. Holster, as impulsive as he is at times, can be incredibly thoughtful when he needs to be. “Give me a second to think.”
He can see what’s coming next on Holster’s face.
“Listen, you didn’t immediately feel the same,” Holster says. Like he’s trying to write this conversation off. But Justin doesn’t want to write this conversation off yet, he wants to understand it. “I just wanted to make sure that--”
“Dammit, Adam, shut up,” Justin stops him.
Holster purses his lips as though he’s trying not to smile.
Justin takes a moment to think of where this is coming from. Stemming from a conversation about a cat, a conversation that would mean a commitment longer than a one year lease that they signed on for, only two months into it. He thinks of their late nights in watching Netflix together, curled up on the couch. The nights when one of them can’t sleep because their apartment is so much quieter than the Haus ever was, and they crawl into one another’s bed because they need the company. The evenings pouring over work together, lingering glances and brushing hands.
Maybe there’s something there.
“Okay,” Justin says.
Holster tips his head to the side, bemused. “Okay what?”
“I’ll go on a date with you.”
Holster ducks his head, almost bashful, and the motion is so gentle and soft and unfamiliar that it makes Justin’s cheeks burn, too.
“It’s clear I read into it Rans,” Holster says, and he doesn’t sound disappointed. Embarrassed, maybe, but still like he’s trying to give Justin an out. “We don’t have to indulge that. I just figured I’d ask.”
Justin scoffs. “Do you not want to actually go on a date with me, man?”
Holster laughs. “We both know you’re out of my league,” he says. “I’d be lucky to get one.”
“Well then take me on a goddamn date, Holtzy.”
The few steps between them now feels a little bit too close, their faces a little too warm. Still, they share a smile.
“Okay,” Holster says, nodding. “This Friday. Dress comfortable, but not too Netflix and chill. More like you had at least one thing you had to dress nice for that day, but not like you spent your entire morning planning it.”
“Hockey game casual?” Justin asks.
Holster beams. “Yeah, that could work.”
Justin can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He still feels turned around, but sharing Holster’s gaze is familiar and brings him a sense of peace. “How long have you been thinking about this, dude?”
Holster shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “Few weeks, I guess.”
“Cool.”
Now that Justin knows that something’s not really wrong with his relationship with Holster, he can relax a little. There’s something different, but not really wrong.
He just isn’t sure how he feels about it.
Justin’s been okay with being into men for a few years now, but to let Holster slip into that category of men he’s attracted to is weird and hard, especially because he’s spent years specifically trying to keep him out of that category. He’s seen Holster dripping with sweat from practice, or half-naked and dripping with water after the shower. He’s seen Holster bleary eyed and fumbling for his glasses, his hair an adorable mess. He’s made Holster smile a billion times over, wide bright smiles that left Justin feeling breathless.
Holster’s hot, he always has been.
But it’s more than that. Like, comparatively, Jack’s hot too. Or Shitty. But Justin’s relationship isn’t the same with them as his is with Holster. There’s love in all of them, but with Holster it’s just more.
When Friday rolls around and it’s time for their date, Justin’s hands feel sweaty. It’s not like Holster’s dressed up or anything, and it’s not like Justin climbing into his car for a night out is anything new, but under the pretense of a date there’s something different about the air. Their glances linger just a touch longer and it makes Justin’s ears burn, and there’s gentle nervous laughter shared between them that makes Justin’s chest feel like there really are butterflies in there.
It’s not too different, really, than any other time they’ve hung out. Holster takes them to a bowling alley which is something the two of them have been talking about doing for weeks now, and they eat pizza before making it to the lanes. But that feeling in Justin’s chest lingers, tight yet comfortable, something he can’t quite name.
“So,” Justin prompts at one point. “Are you actually opposed to adopting a cat?”
Holster laughs, shaking his head. “No. I want like, four cats. And two dogs. Just this massive group of animals that just adore me and follow me around everywhere.”
It’s then that Justin wants to reach up and grab Holster’s hand, but instead he hesitates, and the subject changes again.
They don’t teach each other how to bowl a better game. They don’t hold hands in-between rounds or sneak kisses while waiting for the ball to strike. It’s the same as usual. They high-five at the good rounds, they groan at the bad ones. It’s nothing special.
Just familiar.
Which is okay, but.
“This was weird,” Holster says at the end of the night. They’re back in their apartment, lingering in the weird hallway space between their two bedrooms, and Justin can’t help but agree. He doesn’t sound disappointed by it, and Justin doesn’t really feel disappointed, but he does feel something that he doesn’t like. He writes it off as the fear of him losing the special relationship that he and Holster actually have. “So…” he trails off, almost like giving Justin a chance to say something. But if Holster feels weird, there’s no point in saying whatever it is Justin thinks he might want to say. “We don’t have to talk about it, I guess?”
“Yeah, okay,” Justin says quickly. If he was thinking clearly he’d make a joke about telling Shitty or Jack, but he’s not, so he doesn’t. “It was a long week,” he says instead. “I think I’ll hit the hay.”
“Hay’s for horses, dude.”
“Fuck off,” Justin says, without heat, and the two of them laugh. “Night, bro.”
Holster says goodnight too, and then they’re both in their own bedrooms.
Justin doesn’t sleep.
He thinks about the Holster he knew as a freshman and the Holster he knows now. He thinks about all the times Holster’s paused Netflix for Justin when he fell asleep so he didn’t lose his place. He thinks about threading his fingers through Holster’s golden hair on a lazy afternoon on the couch. He thinks about tonight, of that feeling he couldn’t quite name, that he couldn’t quite feel.
Justin checks the clock. 1:29 AM blares back at him in red lettering.
He thinks about Holster’s mouth, wondering if his lips are soft or chapped. He thinks about Holster’s smile, his big beautiful teeth, and if he’d let them get in the way of kissing. He thinks about the feel of Holster’s hands, big and calloused from years of playing, firm against his shoulders, his arms.
3:04 AM.
Justin blearily climbs out of bed and stumbles out of his room, down toward the kitchen. The low light is already on and Justin hesitates, but when he hears the dishwasher close he figures that Holster must be finishing up. Sometimes they’ll bump into each other well after bedtime, but tonight he was hoping for the privacy. The floor creaks before he can make himself known, giving him away, but Holster smiles up at him as he enters.
“Can’t sleep?” Holster asks. He’s bare-chested, only wearing sweatpants, and Justin is surprised to feel overdressed in his boxers and loose-fitting sleep shirt.
“Just needed some water,” Justin says. He reaches for a cup from the cabinet. “You?”
“Desperately craved some Lucky Charms.”
Justin laughs, happy that they’re still them. Holster lingers as Justin fills up his cup, telling him about the dream that he’d just woken from that involved Bitty and Shitty and the whole crew of them performing some massive bank robbery that was so elaborate Lardo had literally crafted a paper mache layout of the place for them to plan on. Before Justin knows it he’s doubled over in laughter in the kitchen, overwhelmed with relief and love for the man leaning against the counter with a smile.
Love. That makes Justin pause.
He takes a deep breath and stands up straight and something on his face must change because Holster’s smile slips away. “Night, Rans,” he says, and it’s a dismissal if Justin’s ever seen one.
But he sets his glass down on the counter and quickly reaches out, his hand on Holster’s wrist, stopping him before he can go. Holster turns back to him slowly but if Justin stops he knows they’ll be stuck so he leans in as far as he can before Holster kisses him. His other hand flies up to cup Holster’s cheek to keep him from getting too far and Holster smiles into his mouth. There’s a huff of a laugh between them and Justin smiles too. He closes his eyes and Holster leans in to press his forehead to Justin’s and laughs again, so softly that Justin almost doesn’t hear it.
“So, okay,” Holster exhales, and Justin can hear the happiness in his voice. “Cool. Great.”
“Great,” Justin agrees breathlessly. “Cool.”
“Mm-hm.”
Holster leans down again and Justin presses himself up and why didn’t they do this sooner because they could’ve gotten a one bedroom apartment instead of a two and spent less money on rent and Justin isn’t sure why he’s thinking about this now but he huffs anyway, making Holster pull back. He arches an eyebrow in question but how is Justin supposed to explain rent right now when he could be kissing Holster instead, so he cups both of Holster’s cheeks and tugs him back in. He tastes like sugar from the cereal and his lips are surprisingly warm and wet and he holds Justin like he’s a prized possession, careful and important all at once.
The longer they kiss the harder he feels Holster grow and the more desperate Justin’s hands become. He’s exhausted from not having slept and his limbs feel sleepy and he wants to melt into Holster without having to hold himself up. He wants to feel his skin against Holster’s.
“My bed’s better than yours,” Justin murmurs as he reaches down to tug his shirt off.
Holster snorts. “Is it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Justin drops his shirt on the ground and Holster presses forward, leaning over him like he’s trying to cover Justin’s body with his own. “Comfier,” he argues. Justin winds his arms around him. “Cleaner.”
“What!”
Justin laughs into the next kiss. “Closer?” he amends, though they both know that Justin doesn’t snack in bed while Holster totally does. Holster’s hands are needy and hot and feel their way up Justin’s side as though his thoughts are the same, as though a touch like this is something they’re both aching for.
Holster tugs him backwards and then Justin finds himself in his room, because it really is closer, and clearly Holster is just as needy for this as Justin is. It’s strange to climb back into the bed with the man he was thinking about when he last climbed out, but he’s not complaining. He falls with his back against the mattress, Holster with his legs straddling his hips, and groans at the friction.
“Thank God,” Justin gasps, and Holster laughs into the next kiss.
Justin wakes up with sunlight streaming through the window, wound up in Holster’s arms. Holster’s still asleep, breathing softly somewhere near Justin’s collarbone. They’ve woken up like this dozens of times before back in the Haus, and a couple of times in their new apartment, but this is different.
Justin laughs.
Holster startles at it before exhaling a laugh as well, leaning in to press a sleepy open mouthed kiss to Justin’s neck. “G’morning,” he mumbles.
Justin laughs harder. Holster leans up, nuzzling into his throat. “Sorry, sorry,” Justin manages, still laughing. “This is a lot.”
Holster pulls back, still bleary eyed but still bright. “All I said was good morning, Rans,” Holster chirps. Justin sinks down onto the mattress, smiling up at him. “Should I never greet you again? Ignore your presence?”
“Yes, both are less embarrassing.” Holster throws his head back with a laugh. He sinks back down beside him and Justin rolls on his side so he can look at him. He reaches up, brushing Holster’s hair from his face, and Holster’s smile eases into something softer. “Are we really doing this, Holtzy?” he whispers.
Holster pops his shoulder into a shrug. “How was last night for you?”
Justin can’t stop his immediate grin. “Fucking awesome,” he answers. “Incredible.”
“For me, too. And I mean--if we can have that, then dude, I want that.”
Justin’s fingers fan out and he slides his hand down to cup Holster’s cheek. “Let’s adopt a cat,” Justin murmurs, still sleepy. “Four of ‘em. And two dogs.”
Holster grins. They’re really doing this.