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Cyrus knows that something is going to go down the second he walks into school. The air is a little bit different, his friends keep snickering and whispering. His anxiety immediately throws him into the (very, very unlikely) possibility that a massive campaign to ruin his life has been planned, and will come to fruition on that on Tuesday, but he tries to tamp that shit down.
For safety, though, he writes his getaway plan in the notes tab of his phone, writing an outline for emergencies ranked 1, 2, or 3. 1 is mild embarrassment, 2 is “stay home while the heat dies down”, and 3 involves faking his death and living out the rest of his life being absolutely mortified on some gorgeous beach.
He decides that he probably (right?) won’t have to use any of them, so with his eyes and ears peeled, he proceeds with his day.
It isn’t optimal, seeing as a massive part of his first period class is spent trying to figure out if those two strangers are whispering about him or just whispering like normal teens.
By second period, he’s mostly calmed down (unless he’s been lured into a false sense of security… what’s the likelihood of that? Though? It can’t be high, right?), and he’s more or less depending on deep, long breaths and getting cute snapchats from TJ.
In the last year, Cyrus had learned that the struggle with dating a super popular athlete like TJ is that he’s always busy. Even as a freshman, he’d finessed his way onto approximately 1879838973 extracurriculars, and since they didn’t share classes, it was extra rough.
Somehow, they were still going strong.
It was a game of Saturday dates and texting and treating all of their in school time together like it’s a gift, and it works.
Soon, though, even TJ seems to fall off, everything comes to silence, and even when they pass each other in the halls, Cyrus doesn’t even get baseline acknowledgement. It spooks him a bit, and when lunch comes to it’s screaming beginning, he’s back to fighting his anxiety tooth and nail.
Everyone in the cafeteria is a bit too loud, but it seems to all quiet down in a wave, starting from the outside and rippling into the center, where Cyrus happens to sit with Andi, Buffy, and Jonah.
A path clears in front of Cyrus, as students clamber out of the way, revealing TJ, walking across the tiles like he owned them. There was a single red rose in his hand, and Cyrus could feel his heart beating even faster, but it was now out of excitement instead of fear.
Behind him was Sasha, a friend of a friend carrying a saxophone that made her look tiny in comparison.
The whispers start again: murmurs of “homecoming” and “oh my god, he’s actually doing it”, and Cyrus would listen further to the thrum of his audience, but now his focus is on TJ, handing him the rose, which Cyrus numbly takes.
In his periphery, he can see Buffy whipping out her phone, getting the camera out.
He can already feel the itch of a flush spreading out across his cheeks, and he runs a finger of the petal of the rose, reminding himself that whatever dumbass romantic shit is about to go down, it’s one hundred percent real.
“You ready, Sasha?” TJ asks, and she nods hurriedly, before putting her lips to the mouthpiece, and Cyrus feels his heart hammering.
She begins the songs, and Cyrus has to fight a groan when the opening bars of “Careless Whisper” come streaming out of the brass, and he’d be calling TJ a dumbass already if TJ wasn’t in the process of unbuttoning his shirt, and behind the movement of his hands, Cyrus can see odd blue markings.
Finally, to the whoops and jokes and people muttering “oh my god” as they film it all, TJ officially shrugs his shirt to the floor, revealing the word “Hoco?” painted on his chest.
“What do you say, Muffin?” TJ yells over the blaring saxophone, and Cyrus tries to cover the scarlet blush on his cheeks with his hands, before giving up the ruse and just yelling “yes”.
TJ just moves forward, catching Cyrus in a kiss, and they both block out all the noises and raucous cheering around them, focusing only on each other. The music comes to an end, and they separate.
“You’re gonna get into so much trouble, Teej,” Cyrus whispers, trying to stay close.
“Nah, Mrs. Kronen is a total sap, she’ll let me off the hook.”
“For the sax? Maybe. But for taking off your shirt in the middle of the cafeteria?” Cyrus asks, and TJ just gives him a confident, amused look.
“It’ll be worth it.”
Cyrus quirks his head a little bit, overcome with fondness.
“Thank you,” Cyrus whispers, and TJ’s face wrinkles into confusion.
“Why? It’s just a homecoming proposal,” he says, and their voices become a bit more regulated as the crowd begins to fray away.
“It’s more than that. It’s just, I don’t know, it’s very nice.”
TJ leans back in, and they share a quick kiss, before they separate again and Cyrus pats TJ’s shoulder.
“Now put your shirt on, you gorgeous, brazen man,” Cyrus says, as if they aren’t still gangly freshmen.
“If I must…” TJ says, moving away to look for his shirt, still on the floor of the cafeteria. The crowd is long gone, and all that’s left is Buffy and Andi, looking charmed and proud.
“Did you help him plan this?” Cyrus asks, even though by the look on their faces, he already knows the answer. He doesn’t even give them the full time to respond before he continues his line of questioning, “Can you see the blush in the video? I look like a smooth casanova, right?”
“Depends… does Casanova look like a tomato?” Andi asks, smirking a bit and TJ joins Cyrus by his side, slinging his arm around his shoulder.
“Either way, he’s an adorable tomato,” TJ says, ruffling Cyrus’ hair, bringing back the blush as Buffy and Andi crowed at the sight.
-
Cyrus hears it before he ever sees the fight, as he’s walking down the hall during lunch, carrying a poster for the Ultimate team in his arm. He knows that voice, yelling out a “what the FUCK did you just say?!”, even though the people in the hallway mask TJ like a giant curtain.
He knows this tone of voice, knows that on the Kippen Anger Scale, this ranks near “teachers abusing their power in the classroom” and “people who litter on the beach”.
The crows gather in earnest after this shout, and judging by the screech of sneakers squeaking against the floor, Cyrus knows that a fight is going down. He leans the poster against one of the walls, and rushes to the clump. He can hear the hum of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” crescendoing through the high schoolers.
Cyrus tries to elbow his way through, earning him some dirty looks and a small spill of soda on his shirt, but eventually he works his way to the front lines of it all, and he can see the action happen in real time.
“Say it again, Tanner, won’t you? Huh?” TJ said, already stalking around the perimeter of the circle.
“You heard me loud and clear,” he boasted across the circle, brushing his bangs back and casting a furtive glance around the circle. When his eyes land on Cyrus, a wicked smile grows on his lips, and Cyrus can feel his stomach drop to the floor.
“With your little mousy voice? I don’t think so,” TJ says, drawing “ooh”s and a smattering of “what does that even mean, TJ?”. Tanner, however, stays intent, like a predator eying down their prey.
“Wow, TJ. Sick burn. You kiss your boyfriend with that mou-”
“HELL YEAH I DO!” TJ roars, and his pace quickens around the circle, his arms getting into fighting position.
“Hey, Cyrus! I see you in the crowd! You approve of his language?” Tanner shouts, and all eyes turn to Cyrus, who’s being jostled to the front, suddenly a part of this fight, albeit on the outskirts. TJ’s head whipped around, scanning the circle until he lands on Cyrus. His whole expression changes. It softens a bit, and Cyrus would smile if his boyfriend wasn’t in so much imminent danger.
“Don’t bring him into this,” TJ says, giving Cyrus a terse smile before turning back into the action, springing around een quicker.
“You brought him into this a long time ago, Kippen. Be a man, bro,” Tanner says, and with every minute, Cyrus gets more and more confused as to why these two boys are on the verge of a fist fight.
“Not to get more into this, bu why are you even fighting?” Cyrus yells, cupping his hands and making sure he’s heard.
“Yeah, Tanner! Wanna say it again, wanna explain to my boyfriend? Say it, coward!”
“Fine! You can quote me on this. I said that the Jello you make for the team potlucks sucks, and if you bring that grainy hellscape to a party one more time, I’m gonna shit in your sneakers. And don’t forget it,” Tanner yells, and Cyrus doesn’t even have time to get properly confused before TJ releases a primal growl, and rips off his shirt before launching himself onto Tanner, fists moving.
Everyone’s eyes seemed to be shifting between the fight and Cyrus and his furious blush, brought on by confusion, attention, and the feeling of being way too overwhelmed to do a thing about the melee in the center. Soon, after a well-blocked punch, Cyrus seems to wake up, and the panic starts to override any possible confusion at why these two teens were trying to hurt each other.
“Stop! Teej, oh my god! Put your shirt back on!” he yells, and for a second, TJ stills, looking towards Cyrus with softening eyes. He backs away, gaze flickering between Cyrus’ blush and Tanner’s split lip.
He takes a scan of the perimeter of the circle, crouches down to where his navy blue shirt lays crumpled on the floor, and warily slips it on, still on guard.
Cyrus sighed in relief, as TJ moved closer to the edge of the circle. The fight is probably over, Cyrus figures, as Tanner’s shoulders relax a little bit. Then, TJ takes a step back, and runs right towards Tanner, throwing himself up in the ground before slamming his full weight down onto his opponent. Cyrus lets out some ungainly screech at the sight, but it goes ignored as the fight continues with just enough fervor.
The blush returns full force, as he watches his Lovable but Dumb boyfriend fight like his life depends on it. He lets out a long, exhausted sigh, and decides to join in the cheering.
He was an excellent cheerleader, after all.
-
The eighteenth time Cyrus realizes this is a bad idea, he’s letting TJ lift him up over the short stone wall of the public pool, and with limbs shaking like a newborn deer, Cyrus manages to balance and jump into the other side, cushioned a bit by grass. TJ is still on top of the ledge, looking around the dinky area like a king overlooking his grand kingdom.
“I told you those rock climbing classes were worth it,” TJ says, talking into the chilly nighttime air with ineffable swagger.
Cyrus is still a bit confused as to how TJ managed to convince him to sneak into the public pool in the middle of October, at 3am on a saturday morning.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t like sports where I can’t see your face,” Cyrus counters, trying to stomp down his skyrocketing anxiety over breaking the law with some flirting.
“But I learned so many valuable survival skills! Like how to climb up rock walls-”
“While wearing a harness. And the walls have handy little spots that are made for feet. You will definitely need that in the future.”
“Fair. But my teacher also taught me how to whittle,” TJ says, puffing out his chest with pride before jumping off of the wall and landing next to Cyrus.
“When did he do that?” Cyrus asks, already trying to envision a lesson plan where the teacher pulled out wood and a knife in the middle of the slick sporting center.
“When the team went on a retreat! Remember that stick I gave you? That was all whittling, baby.”
Cyrus does remember this stick. It was a smoothed out oak branch, pointed at both ends, with the words “TJ+Cyrus 4ever” written on it with Sharpie.
“At the ends? Is that why it was pointy?”
“Hell yeah! I’m a whittling master. Now let’s get down to business,” TJ says, as he rips off his shirt, already shivering a bit at the coldness surrounding them. Cyrus sputters immediately, as TJ starts walking to the pool.
“TJ, no!” he yells, and the cold wind begins to bite him, making his cheeks flushed and cherry red.
“TJ YES!” he yells back, picking up the pace and bounding right into the pool, in a cannonball that has a grand splash, with a few drops even hitting Cyrus.
“You didn’t even take off your shoes! Your socks are wet as hell!” Cyrus yells, and he’s caught between his classic maternal anger and fondness at this dumb, dumb, boy. Cyrus might just be dumb too, judging by the way his smile reaches from ear to ear.
“Jump in with me!” he says as he bobs in the water, shivering a bit already.
“Your lips are blue, babe!” says Cyrus as he steps closer to the edge of the pool, refusing to jump off as he pulls his jacket a bit tighter.
“And your face is red! Check and mate,” TJ says before attempting to do a handstand in the ice cold water. Cyrus waits until his head surfaces again.
“That’s because it’s cold, Teej! Get out of that pool!”
“I did not sneak out of my house to not jump in a pool tonight, Cy. I said I was gonna so h-hell yeah, I am gonna!”
“Sweetheart. My love. My life. Get out of this pool before you catch something.”
“I already caught something, I’m safe,” TJ says, still bobbing in the pool despite the fact that it felt like his whole body was becoming an ice cube.
“You caught something? We kissed literally half an hour ago. With tongue. If you got me sick, I swear to god-”
“I didn’t get to finish my sentence, babe,” TJ says, attempting a spin that looks a tad too jerky to be impressive.
“The ample pause after said sentence speaks otherwise,” says Cyrus as he shivers a bit in his jacket, hating the way he could feel the frost of the night make his cheeks redder by the second.
“The end was that I caught the love bug. Get it? Because I love you,” TJ says, and when he gives a particularly violent shiver, he starts to swim towards the edge of the pool. Cyrus breathes a sigh of relief before he registers what TJ said.
“I love you too. But don’t scare me like that. With being shirtless in freezing water or the health scare, both of those were equally bad,” Cyrus says, and he puts a hand over the edge of the pool to pull TJ out.
TJ takes Cyrus’ hand and while Cyrus begins to pull, TJ pulls right back, and before Cyrus could even figure out the plan, TJ pulls him right off of his feet, into the ice cold water. Soon, they’re a giggling mess in the middle of the freezing water.
“You’re gonna regret this so hard!” Cyrus yelps when his head resurfaces.
“Never!” TJ yells right back, already secretly regretting it in his head.
-
The basketball game has ended, and everyone has started to disperse. It’s the usual: a winning game with TJ as the radiant MVP, and lots of terms that Cyrus didn’t one hundred percent understand, but he was comfortable enough with knowing the basics, that when TJ does the super high jump and the ball swishes through the hoop, he can and should start cheering.
Cyrus’ throat was sore by this time from all of the hollering he was doing, so he was just finding relaxation in sitting with his friends, listening to them squabble about the ins and outs of every possible facet of the game, from the opposition’s uniforms to who’s sneakers were the squeakiest (it’s Jared’s sneakers, it always is).
The calm of the lulling conversation was interrupted by a squeal of sneakers on the court, echoing throughout the quickly emptying room. Everyone’s eyes draw to the sound, which turns out to be coming from TJ, trying to run as fast as possible with a wild grin on his face, holding his phone in one raised hand and his shirt mysteriously missing. He runs across the court, with long, ungainly leaps, utilizing his polished basketball player speed but moving with an inhuman, messy sort of energy.
“I got in!!” he yells as he reaches the steps, taking two steps at a time and quickly bounding towards Cyrus and his friends, not even noticing Cyrus’ eyes as they get wider, or his cheeks as they get redder.
“TJ, where is your shirt?” Buffy asks as everyone but Cyrus seems to move out of his way, figuring out his target pretty quickly. TJ only begins to answer when he’s reached the crowd, or more specifically, Cyrus, who he basically leaps on in a massive, sweaty hug.
“In the locker room, I guess, I checked my phone and I got the email and I just had to tell you right now,” TJ rambles, before burying his head into Cyrus’ shoulder, laughing with unrepentant glee. Cyrus could only hug back, trying not to think about the fact that TJ is sweaty as fuck and smells like a bag of pennies, not to mention that he’s shirtless which definitely makes this ten times weirder but-
“Got into what?” Andi asks, not sure if she should laugh at TJ’s goofiness or the increasingly intense blush on Cyrus’ face.
“A new team, of some sort. Like minor league baseball, but with teenagers in basketball. I’m not one hundred percent sure how it works, but it’s a big deal,” says Cyrus, head craning over TJ’s shoulder to face Andi.
“Sounds cool, Teej,” Buffy says, trying and failing to hide her momentary jealousy.
“You know, Tough Buff,” TJ says, not separating from Cyrus and instead choosing to swing him around so TJ is the one facing his friends, “There’ll be a Ladies League. Tryouts start soon, I can hook you up.”
“That would be- uh- cool of you. Are you going to let go of Cyrus, or…” she says, gesturing vaguely at the two of them.
“Nah,” TJ replies, settling in a bit more.
“Well, stay comfy, I guess,” Andi says, leaning against a railing and settling down herself.
“Thanks, I will.”
“Are you sure you wanna stay like this, babe? You’re a bit sweaty and I don’t want you to overheat, or anything. Also I’ve got a quick question: when are you going to put the shirt back on? Because people are starting to stare a bit, and if you’re cool with that-”
“Which I am, people will look at me anyway,” TJ says, forever confident. Cyrus smiles and settles in too, and lets the feeling of embarrassment and fear of judgement float away.
“Yeah, ‘cause your so ugly!” Buffy jokes, and TJ laughs heartily, and Cyrus can feel the vibrations of it on his shoulder.
It’s the calmest he’s ever felt in his high school gym. He finds a new milestone every day, it feels. With a lovesick blush, he remembers how many of the milestones came from his relationship with TJ.
-
Cyrus is staying up late, desperately cramming for his Chemistry midterm when his phone buzzes with a text message. It’s from Buffy, and when he opens the phone up, he finds that it’s just a link to a video and a second text saying “ur boyfriend is so fuckin dumb… he’s a true gay fuckboy icon”.
Cyrus sighs loudly, before typing out a deadpan “what did he do”.
“Watch” says the ominous text he gets in response, and with an eye roll and love in his heart, he opened the link.
The video was titled of all things, “Basketball Boizzzz”, and began with an iMovie title card, then faded into a still, wide image of TJ standing on a big rock, holding two basketballs in his hands. With a straight, icy face, he throws them down on the sides of the rock, causing them to go two haywire directions. As if in a sitcom, text shows up on the screen, saying “Loverboy, played by Tall Jock Kippen”.
Next is some of his teammates, introducing themselves with either a basketball trick or an intentional fail.
Finally, a clip of all of the guys together, in squatting prayer positions to botched handstands, with TJ himself in the center, looking as dumb and beautiful as ever. Then the beat drops in, and Cyrus sighs with a realization of what this was.
Someone with a camera is in the center, and they focus on one person, who raps about the person to their right, and then the person rapped about jumps in with another about a person to their right.
It takes two minutes for the rap Cyrus was waiting for to begin. Jerome next to TJ, making up for his mediocre rap skills with boundless energy.
“This is TJ, and this Kippen is killin! Him and his bae spend so much time chillin! He’s a god at the beat, and he’s got stinky ass feat, but damn, his mom knows how to cook some good meat! I love my veggies but damn, his mom’s chicken! Can’t help but say this, it’s is finger lickin!”
Cyrus laughs so hard that he can’t even pay attention to TJ’s verse on Blake, rapped while totally and inexplicably shirtless. While it plays on the screen, he gets another text with a link and laughing emojis, and he can’t help but blush with a weird sort of pride over it all. Because this was his boyfriend, as silly as it looked. The verse finished with a “wooo” from behind the camera, and Cyrus turned off his phone, smiling so hard his face ached.
-
“WOOOOOO!!!” TJ yells, jumping around the Mack living room in some grand, celebratory dance.
“TJ! You only won one round!” Buffy says, laughing so hard that it almost masks her words. He pays it no mind at all, he just keeps up the dance.
“This is trivia, bro, are you really that excited?” asks Jonah, joining in on the laughter.
“Y’all thought I couldn’t! Ha ha HA!” he says, dancing even harder and whipping off his shirt, seemingly to free himself and dance with even more ferocity.
“Cyrus, are you going to stop him?” asks Andi as she looks at the spectacle, taking place in her own living room.
“Or join in?” jokes Buffy, and the whole crowd grows in laughter, the kind that leads to spilled drinks and faulty bets.
Cyrus, however, remains totally unfazed, and that draws just as many kindly confused eyes as TJ’s dancing.
“He does this all the time, I know I can’t stop him or equal him. In both dancing skills and ability to look good shirtless,” Cyrus said, coolly and with a confident sip of his drink. Buffy had a moment of pride for him, for the way he’d grown in stature and confidence.
“Bet!” Jonah yells, lifting his own glass with joy in his voice.
“Are y’all just ignoring my epic win? My five for five round? Are you guys just ignoring this iconic moment in trivia night history?” TJ says, slowing down his dance.
“Of course not, sweetie, I’m super proud of you. You should probably put your shirt back on and win another round, though,” says Cyrus.
“I remember when you used to get all flustered when I took my shirt off,” says TJ, duly following his instructions.
“Can you name one time when that happened?” Cyrus asks, and he can hear the ‘ooh’ of his friends in the back of his mind, but all of his focus is on TJ, looking like he glows under all the attention and pride.
“Off the top of my head? Let’s start with the time…”
The night continues in laughter and love and stories that may be a bit embarrassing, and Cyrus wouldn’t have it any other way.