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They were close.
But everyone knew that. They were truly best friends―they hung out and had matching necklaces and made jokes and were closer than either of them had expected to be, not just coworkers or acquaintances. They were best friends, and close friends.
Which is why it wasn't odd for them to be enjoying a beer or two on the sofa, playing a videogame together and staying out of the heat. It happened fairly often, when neither of them had any plans for that evening.
But though it wasn't odd for them to be sitting on the sofa with each other, Michael was fairly sure something was off.
He didn't think it was anything bad. But something felt different tonight from the other nights they'd spent together, and he noticed.
It might have been the extra inch or two Gavin was sitting closer to him than normal. Which he'd noticed, but wasn't going to say anything.
It might have been the way Gavin was being a little bit more of an annoying little prick to him than normal. Which he'd noticed, and if Gavin kept fucking things up, he might say something.
It might have been just… that different air to the night. It was hot and summer and everything was average and normal and should have felt average and normal but didn't. He wouldn't ever fucking admit it out loud and had a hard time even thinking it, but he felt closer to Gavin in some sort of gross emotional way that he shooed out of his mind as soon as it entered.
But with that thought came a recollection of the past couple weeks.
He'd been joking about "Mavin" for more than a few weeks. And that's all it was―a joke. That's what it had started out as and what it would end as because the thought of them actually being a thing was fucking stupid and a complete joke and a waste of his god damn time to think about and fuck, he wanted it.
His malice toward Gavin picked up in that split second and he focused all of his frustration into the game. That's what he was good at. Any outside frustration that would have been taken out on friends or family was taken out on his games. It was his own style of stress relief, and he liked it that way.
Except when the source of his frustration was sitting right next to him, closer than normal, and when the game got quiet and there was a lull in conversation he could hear his breath or little stupid chuckles and god damn was this annoying.
When he was younger he imagined falling for a friend to be something he realized all of a sudden, in the shower or playing a videogame or going to bed and suddenly having a thought come into his head that tells him, "Hey, dumbass, you like this girl. Maybe make a move or something instead of sitting around and playing dumb about it."
But it wasn't a sudden epiphany, and more importantly, Gavin wasn't "this girl." Or a girl at all. And if he hadn't already been fucked over by falling for his best friend, he was surely fucked over by falling for his best friend who happened to be a guy.
And that's when his best friend-who-happened-to-be-a-guy began giggling his annoying little giggle and he knew something was wrong.
And then he died.
"Fuck! Fuck. Where the hell did you even come from!?" He yelled, his face getting red as he became even more determined to get Gavin back for all of the shit he pulled. The respawn screen flashed up and he felt his breathing pick up. He was losing, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
Gavin's only response was to erupt into laughter, effectively pissing Michael off that much more.
And as the search for Gavin's player intensified, Michael slipped back into his thoughts.
At first, he'd thought it had just been loneliness, honestly. He hadn't had a girlfriend for some time, and he'd had a pretty well thought-out plan for asking out Lindsay a while ago but that was shot down when she mentioned she had been dating some guy from outside work. So the plan went to shit, and he was pretty fine with that. He found it easier than being flat-out rejected like he inevitably had been in the past. He forgot about his feelings for her in a pretty short amount of time, and focused on his friendships. It wasn't like he hadn't been single for a while before.
But one friendship, his best friendship, was soon subtly singled out in his mind.
It was annoyingly subtle. Infuriatingly subtle. It would have been so much easier if he had just woken up one day and realized the shit he'd gotten himself into. But instead it took a while, and the reason that was so god damn annoying was because he fucking let it happen. He wasn't even fucking gay! He'd never had any sort of crushes on boys when he was younger or stupid never-spoken-about-again moments with his friends during parties. He'd heard stories, but never experienced anything like that himself. He would've expected to have at least one thing tip him off, but instead he just wound up with a bunch of really fucking confusing feelings for a guy, and pretty damn late in the game.
And it was a lot easier to be okay with someone he knew, or even himself, being gay in theory.
But in practice, it was weird and confusing and he really, really didn't like it.
It's not like fucking wanted to be like a little boy with a fucking stupid crush. Even that word, crush, sounded childish and dumb. He was being childish and dumb, though, so it fit. And as far as he'd seen, he couldn't stop.
And the fucking worst thing was when it seemed like ever so slightly Gavin would take more than a glance at him or brush up against him or act just the tiniest bit like he―
No.
No, Gavin didn't do any of that. On purpose at least. And that was where Michael drew the line―no matter how much he just wanted to have one of those cheesy moments where they would stop talking somewhere in private and lean in and everything would work out, it wouldn't happen. He was being creepy. Creepy, creepy, fucking creepy and even though his thoughts were private he felt so guilty.
So no matter what slight level of acceptance of this stupid dumb dumb dumb fascination with his best friend Michael was able to give himself, he drew the line at ever imagining that the feelings would be reciprocated. Because they wouldn't be. And he would have to accept that for what it was.
But tonight… tonight he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that Gavin was glancing over at him more often and sitting closer and doing it all on a larger scale than normal.
And when Michael saw the all-too-infuriating death screen and screamed, "Fuck, Gavin! Where! How! How the fuck did you even DO that!? I thought I fucking had you!" Gavin doubled over from laughing and happened to completely fall onto Michael's right shoulder, who was so not in the mood to deal with Gavin being way more touchy-feely than normal. And to top it off, he kept laughing for a good half-minute while Michael just seethed with his head in his hands. Michael just looked down at the red-faced Brit and began to slightly chuckle himself.
He was really cute. Michael had a soft spot for generally cute people, and when he wasn't being an irritating little prick, Gavin fit that criteria. And then Gavin faded out of laughter, his watery eyes just gazing up at Michael. Waiting for a response, as usual. Gavin was nothing without a response. He lived for reactions, and that was one of the reasons he had fit with Michael so well.
Michael, stubborn as always, refused in a childish manner to let Gavin see that he'd been chuckling, though. And so he pouted, waiting for the-
"Michael," yeah, there it was. As always. Thickly accented, so it sounded more akin to "Mi-cool" than his real name. "C'mon. Even you have to admit that was a bit of a laugh." He paused, waiting for the response that wasn't coming. "Michael, you can't be angry forever."
Michael, refusing to acknowledge Gavin's words, stared straight ahead and began to respawn. But really, what was there in finding and killing Gavin if he wasn't even playing?
And that thought brought Michael back to Gavin's current location: Leaning onto his shoulder. With a head slightly moving to fit more comfortably in the crook of his neck. Close. Closer than usual.
But no matter how close Gavin got, Michael couldn't shake his guilt―his best friend was just having a good time. Why did he have to ruin it in his own mind by putting extra meaning beneath Gavin's actions? Why couldn't he just be fucking friends with the guy without having his heart flutter whenever he got closer than normal?
"Michael. Are you giving me the silent treatment?"
"No, you little prick. But I am fucking pissed."
He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the giggle that passed between Gavin's lips.
"Come on, don't be like that. What about Team Nice Dynamite, Michael? You can't stay mad at your fellow team member."
"Well, you aren't exactly behaving with team spirit yourself, shithead."
"Michael! Such hostility!"
"Shut up."
"Are you genuinely mad?"
Michael paused and breathed a small sigh. "No, dumbass."
There was a lull in conversation again, but it was a comfortable silence. Michael picked up his controller and began playing again, leading Gavin to follow suit. He rocked himself away from Michael, who sunk slightly at the loss of contact. He might feel guilty about it, but he couldn't control how much he needed Gavin. Luckily―and unexpectedly―Gavin settled back onto Michael's shoulder, and continued playing from that spot.
Michael's heart picked up speed. God damn, he hated this. He hated turning everything into flirting and putting so much more emotion behind things that, to anyone else, would have been platonic. He hated having fallen for Gavin, and he hated the fact that his mind wouldn't fucking stop conjuring images of the two in various compromising positions.
What he wanted to do was shift his head toward Gavin and wait for him to notice. What he wanted was for Gavin to tilt his head up and meet eyes with him. What he wanted to do was break the gaze with a flicker of his glance down to Gavin's lips, leaving himself vulnerable but knowing it would work out. What he wanted was for Gavin to not be an oblivious shithead and get the message and fucking kiss him.
What he did was feel his anger begin to bubble again as he channeled his aggression towards the game. Because his ridiculous fantasy would never be played out and he would never experience the things he wanted to. He would have to wait for this stupid crush to wither away and hopefully look back on it in months' time and be embarrassed by the fact that he could've ever fallen for Gavin Free. Plus, Gavin not being an oblivious shithead was out of the question.
He realized his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe he could blame it on aggression. But Gavin knew it was more a joke than actual anger towards the situation, didn't he?
But he didn't really have time to think about the answer to that due to getting distracted by Gavin leaning on him.
Gavin's body heat swallowed him. He couldn't feel Gavin's heartbeat but he could feel his own, and he could feel the waves of frustration and tension wash over him as the game became a distant distraction. Gavin wasn't the distraction from this game; Gavin was the problem and this game was a distant toy to entertain the back of his mind. Gavin was warm and light on his side. Michael's arm was against Gavin's and his neck was tickled by the light brown mess of hair nested against him. His senses were no longer briefly entertained with the smell of beer and pizza and the feel of plastic in his hands and the sound of gunshots from the television. His senses were filled with the smell of Gavin's deodorant or cologne or whatever the fuck he was wearing and the feel of his body heat and skin and hair and the sound of his breathing and chuckles. And inside his own mind, where things should have been private and for himself, it seemed Gavin took over there as well; his thoughts were Gavin and his masochistic brain replayed his stupid fantasy of kissing the man over and over again.
He had to stop this one way or―
"Jesus, Michael. You having palpitations or something? Your heart's going bloody crazy."
Fuck.
Fuck.
"Fuck you. I just happen to be concocting a plan to take you down." Was that even a good enough lie?
"No way! You can't take me down."
"Wanna try me?" Michael asked. God dammit, that was too flirty. He had to fucking stop. He'd been let off the hook, he couldn't blow it now.
"I'm leading, Michael. I'll totally win this."
Another silence, filled only slightly by the television sounds. Which meant another chance for his mind to go haywire.
Michael's lack of focus was painfully obvious. His normal rage-sparked determination was gone and he couldn't think straight with this dickhead leaning on him.
"Michael."
"The fuck do you want?"
"Michael, hold on." Gavin set his controller next to himself and slightly shifted his head so it was clear his speech was addressed to him.
"What? What are you even doing?"
"What's going on, my little Michael? You're not yourself."
"God dammit, Gavin, I'm not in the mood for this," Michael replied, staring straight ahead at the screen.
"Michael," He started, drawing out the ending in an effort to take away the accent. "C'mon. Is something the matter? You're so bloody distant."
"Shut the fuck up."
"You won't even tell me? Are you still mad or something?"
He wanted so badly to say 'It's not you.' To make up some bullshit on the spot and move on. But it was him, and he really had no fucking clue where he would even begin to make up a problem.
"No, I'm not still mad." That was the truth, pretty much.
"Then what's wrong? Someone from work? Something at home?"
Yes, someone from fucking work, you dipshit. "Nothing."
"Michael, you-" And he was back to his habit, wrapping his essence around the name.
"Don't fucking say that. God damn, pronounce my name like normal people do. And just stop pushing the subject."
"Well it's no fun bloody playing with you if you're so grumpy!"
Gavin sat up, and Michael's instantaneous realization of that fact―and the consequential disappointment that was carried along with it―was disheartening. This wasn't going away soon. He paused and then turned to look at the obviously frustrated man sitting next to him. "Michael, tell me what's wrong! Or at least stop being so angry about it."
"You don't want to fucking know what's wrong, Gavin. Just shut the fuck up about it."
Gavin let out an exasperated sigh. "Damnit. You're so bloody stubborn! God damn."
Michael turned to finally look at him. "You don't. Want to know. What's wrong."
The air was filled with thick tension. Any traces of playful aggression or silly jokes were long gone.
Gavin scooted closer to Michael then, not to lean up against him but to look him more directly in the eye. Their legs touched, and Michael cursed at himself in his thoughts for noticing that.
"Michael. You can tell me."
But I can't!
"You don't understand."
"Michael."
And if Michael had been just a touch more angry, he might not have noticed the emotion injected into Gavin's words. But it was just there enough for Michael to pause.
What if Gavin's actions―the closeness, the jokes, everything―hadn't been so accidental?
"What, Gavin? What the fuck do you want from me?"
"The truth."
Michael stared into green eyes for a couple seconds before averting his gaze.
"No."
"You're so aggravating, Michael."
"You wanna talk fucking aggravating!? You really want to go there?"
"Michael, you're going to have an aneurysm or something. Calm down for a minute."
"I can't-" Michael paused. Half the sentence was out anyway. Anything incriminating could be inferred if it wasn't said. "I can't calm down, Gavin."
Michael turned his head back to meet Gavin's gaze once again.
"Why?"
Michael held his reply in his throat.
"Michael. Michael. What could be so bloody wrong that you can't tell me?"
And for a second, he let his guard down. He looked into Gavin's eyes with the most intense stare he could, trying to show him everything he couldn't speak. He turned his eyes into the most blatant kiss-me-right-fucking-now stare he could manage. He was done with hiding. If he couldn't say anything, he would at least show it.
He flickered his eyes down to glaze over Gavin's lips. He lingered there for a moment, getting lost in how badly he wanted his desires to become true, and blinked to tear himself away from them and meet Gavin's eyes again.
Gavin breathed.
They were a mere six inches away. Six inches which could have been six millimeters or six miles.
Six inches which turned to five.
Four.
Three, two one―
Somewhere in the six inches he closed his eyes and tilted his head.
Somewhere before the six inches Gavin had gotten the message.
And then there were lips. There were lips on his lips and softness and warmth. Soon there was a softness in his mouth, and they were both tides, rocking back and forth and pushing and pulling. There was harmony, and the world could have ended and neither boy would have noticed because their worlds, lying in wait for so long, were just beginning.
He found hands on his back and fabric under his fingers. His lips and his hands and his arms all searched for more more more all at once and never seemed to be satisfied. Desire took control and crashed over Michael in hot red waves and he lost all thought to Gavin.
The kiss broke. The boys opened their eyes.
Michael breathed the slightest breath and it tickled Gavin's lips. Gavin looked down and smiled, beginning to breathe again.
"I knew it!" He said, and returned his gaze to Michael's eyes. "Damnit, Michael. I thought I was imagining things."
Michael couldn't breathe. His heart raced even faster, which he hadn't thought possible.
"Yeah. Yeah, me… me too," he said quietly. "I, uh. I thought… I thought it was just me."
Gavin didn't have a reply, simply offering a sheepish grin.
Michael knew he would have to ask everything. He would have to ask all of the what happens now and will this change anything and who do we tell and what the fuck are we gonna do questions. Eventually. But what he wanted was to kiss and feel Gavin again.
And this time around, he could.
And so Michael broke the small silence with the language of their bodies―the grasping of their hands against each other's backs and chests, the frantic breaths in-between their harmonious tongues, the way they could tell that neither one of them wanted to lose contact for a second. Michael didn't know how long it went on, but damn, was it good. It was different than kissing his previous girlfriends, and he attributed that to the desire and need for Gavin that had been so contained over the past few weeks. He hadn't ever needed to keep his desire for someone so private before, but this in itself made for such intense passion and relief that things worked out so well. He found himself inwardly chuckling at cliches―the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
And yes, Gavin tasted very, very good.
They broke the kiss, and Michael realized that somewhere within it he had ended up underneath Gavin. Gavin didn't seem to have any prior knowledge of that either, and awkwardly sat up while Michael propped himself up on his forearms. The body heat radiating off of and swirling between them was heavenly. It put a final touch on the warm night with electricity in the air, generated by the curiosity and joy and pure wonder that came along with the discovery of such an amazing connection between the two. Truly, it had been there all along. It just took an eternity of wearing down walls and glances when the other isn’t looking and brushing against each other and waiting, waiting, waiting for this perfect moment. And it did in fact feel perfect, anticipation and excitement and passion culminating to bring up the heat that had been there the entire time, patient to surface.
Bewilderment, adrenaline, pure excitement in Gavin’s eyes. Mirrored in Michael’s, but with an overlay of a knowing gaze, smirking and so glad things were finally landing in his favor.
They locked eyes for the moment, relishing the ability to stare at the men they could call theirs. Finally able to delve into each other’s eyes, reading the gazes and studying the expressions they were faced with.
It was Gavin who spoke first, to Michael’s surprise.
“This is good.”
A simple sentence, but a true one. True beyond face value. What they had here was good, it was good beyond measure.
“Yeah, Gav. This is good.”
“Quite a relief,” Gavin joked after a brief pause, sincerity backing the words.
“You have no fucking clue.” Michael answered.
“Oh, really?” Gavin challenged. “You know, you’re not the only one who was afraid of showing anything for a good while, there.”
“Yeah, well, you played that fucking line between friendly and flirty really well. For a long time.”
“Like you didn’t as well!”
Stories found their way into the air, shared details and memories mingling and intertwining and becoming one unified, shared past. How it began, when it became serious. Close calls and select moments that almost became confessions. Yet neither of the two could shake the feeling that this moment was right, no matter how much frustration and pain it had caused them to endure in the past.
They both somehow were able to find their way into lying down on the couch, facing up and looking to the ceiling. It was a close fit, but it worked. They worked, which amazed them both too much to want to move at any particular moment.
And so as they fell into a shared, comfortable silence, Michael with his arm around Gavin and a cozy smile rested upon Gavin’s face, their ease drifted into sleep. It didn’t last for long, the discomfort of fitting two full-grown men on a couch eventually overwhelming the light nap, but as they slowly awoke and turned Michael whispered into Gavin’s ear, his warm breath rolling down Gavin’s neck.
“C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom. More space there, definitely.”
Gavin was awake enough to raise his eyebrows jokingly as he turned to face Michael. “Seduction?”
The joke elicited a raspy chuckle. “You wish, asshole.”
Sitting up and keeping themselves in a state lucid enough to interact but keeping sleep just a moment away, the two shuffled back into the bedroom. Gavin woke just a bit more to take note of Michael, gathering that simply sleeping in boxers was perfectly acceptable.
They crawled in, sleep closer now. It was like it had been a thousand times sleeping with each other, natural and easy and like they fit so comfortably and so perfectly together. Michael’s arm under the crook of Gavin’s neck, wrapped around his back. Gavin with his head on Michael’s chest, arm slung over Michael’s side. As they floated back into sleep, both snuck gazes as the other’s eyes were closed.
Amazing, how things could change.