Work Text:
It was 2 a.m. and Cyrus was fast asleep. It had been a dreary day and a cold, rainy night, the kind of night that has him showered and in bed by 10:30. Who said high school seniors couldn’t get a full eight hours of sleep on the weekend? He had gotten under the warm covers and drifted off to the faint sound of the small TV he keeps in his room playing a rerun of New Girl.
He was sleeping so peacefully you’d believe nothing could disturb him.
And then something hit his window.
The first distinct thump! only slightly disturbed the sleeping boy, causing him to roll over in his bed and pull the covers up to his chin. It wasn’t until a few moments later that Cyrus was awoken by the sound. At first, he just opened up his eyes slowly, confused and disoriented. Once he registered where the sound had originated, however, he shot up in bed and scrambled back until he hit his headboard.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Someone’s trying to break into my house. Through my ROOM. It’s a murderer it’s a murderer it’s a murderer.
Cyrus’s manic thoughts were disrupted by his text tone. He scrambled for his phone, which was charging on his nightstand, and let out a sigh of relief when he read who the message was from.
Thomas Jefferson Kippen: open your window!!!
Cyrus rushed over to his main window and opened the blinds, allowing the moonlight to blanket his room. Sure enough, TJ was standing in his driveway, his face obscured by the darkness. Cyrus lifted the window open just in time for a small rock to come hurtling towards his face.
“Motherfuck-” Cyrus cursed, ducking out of the pebbles warpath.
“Sorry,” TJ whisper-yelled.
“You’re sorry? You could’ve killed me, you idiot.” Cyrus replied, half-joking. He silently applauded his quick reflexes.
“No need to be so dramatic. Can you just let me up?” TJ called, and Cyrus realized just how tired the older boy sounded.
“It’s the middle of the night!” He responded, already slipping on his shoes.
“I know. I just-” TJ’s voice faltered.
“What?”
“I really need to see you.”
Cyrus tried to push down the butterflies rising in his stomach.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
Cyrus bounded down the stairs and was at his front door in a flash, leaving all the lights off to avoid waking up his parents. He swung the door open and pulled a very wet TJ in from outside.
“Jesus Christ, Kippen. It’s freezing out,” Cyrus almost shrieked, dragging TJ inside and back up the stairs.
“I’m fine, Cyrus.” TJ protested and Cyrus all but threw him on the bed and grabbed some spare towels from the bathroom.
“Why didn’t you just call? You know you’re always welcome to come over no matter what. My parents don’t care.” Cyrus said, turning to flip on the light switch. The fairy lights that wrapped around his room (thanks to Jonah’s help) flickered on, giving Cyrus’s tidy space a warm glow. He turned back around to face TJ and dropped the towels on the ground.
“TJ!” Cyrus gasped.
“It’s nothing, Cy,” TJ responded meekly.
Cyrus took a moment to look at TJ. He had blood slowly streaming out of his nose, a cut on his swollen bottom lip, and a bruise forming around his right eye.
“Nothing?” Cyrus all but screeched, scanning over TJ’s body with worried eyes. He took note of more blood on his damp gray t-shirt (which was clinging to TJ’s body in a very distracting way) and more bruises on his toned arms.
“What the fuck happened, TJ?”
“I got in a fight.”
“With who?”
“Doesn’t matter,” TJ mumbled, pulling into himself and shivering. Cyrus remembered how cold he must be right now.
“Take off your shirt,” Cyrus commanded, picking the towels back up. TJ sputtered.
“What?”
“I’m getting you new clothes,” Cyrus explained, grabbing one of TJ’s sweatshirts and an extra pair of sweatpants. When Cyrus turned to give the clothes to TJ, his mouth went dry.
“Oh,” He mumbled, voice strained. TJ was standing before him wearing nothing but soaking wet jeans. Even though Cyrus was the one who told him to take off his shirt in the first place, he still wasn’t prepared. TJ was in unfairly good shape. Cyrus also realized that since TJ didn’t have any cuts on his chest, the blood on his shirt was definitely someone else’s. Cyrus silently passed him the sweatshirt and towel and averted his eyes until TJ was dried off and covered up. He turned back around so TJ could change into the sweatpants. Thankfully, Cyrus was used to seeing TJ’s legs.
After he was done, Cyrus noticed that TJ’s hair was still dripping wet. As if on instinct, he picked up the hand towel and walked up to TJ, who was back on the bed. He slowly began to dry off TJ’s hair, admiring the way his gel-less locks fell on his forehead. He still looked beautiful, even after a fight.
Cyrus didn’t even notice the way TJ was staring up at him in awe.
“Uh,” TJ cleared his throat, and Cyrus realized how weird he must be acting right now. Cyrus pulled his hands away and busied himself with getting his first aid kit out from the bottom of his closet.
“You don’t need to do this, Cyrus,” TJ mumbled, adjusting so he was sitting criss-cross.
“Yes, I do. God, Teej, what even happened?” Cyrus insisted, sitting in front of TJ on the bed. TJ blushed a light pink at the nickname and brushed his hair back with his hand, a nervous habit of his. Cyrus opened the first aid kit and pulled out Neosporin, hydrogen peroxide, wipes, and a small box of Paw Patrol band-aids. He rolled his eyes when TJ snickered at them.
“Shut up.”
“No, it’s cute!” TJ responded through laughter. Now it was Cyrus’s turn to blush. He brought a wipe up to TJ’s nose and carefully wiped the blood off, looking everywhere but in TJ’s green eyes. He cleaned up some smaller cuts and pulled out another wipe to clean the cut on his lip. He gently began to clean the wound, trying not to focus on how he was touching TJ Kippen’s lip. He didn’t miss how TJ jerked away slightly at his touch, his blush darkening.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“Um, nah. It’s fine.”
Once Cyrus was finished cleaning the cuts, he resanitized his hands and began to apply the Neosporin, once again blushing when he had to put it on his lips. A calm quiet descended, Cyrus now feeling calmer knowing that TJ was okay. TJ twiddled his thumbs, avoid eye contact with the younger boy.
“It was Reed,” TJ whispered.
“What?”
“I got in a fight with Reed,” TJ responded, sounding more confident.
“What, why? Reed? How, what, huh?” Cyrus said, trying to understand what on earth TJ was doing around Reed at 2 am.
“Uh, I was at the swings. My parents were fighting again,” TJ explained, trying and failing to sound casual. Cyrus put his hand on TJ’s leg comfortingly. When TJ spoke again, his voice was strained.
“He was there with his friends. They were smoking. He uh, he said some stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Cyrus said, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Well-”
“Yes?”
“He was talking about you.”
“Oh.” A pause, then, “What did he say?”
“Cyrus, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t listen to-”
“I know. I won’t. Please just tell me.”
“He was calling you, like, pathetic and weak, which you aren’t, and making fun of you for being, well, gay, and like, you have to know how proud I am of you for being out, you are the bravest person I’ve ever met, and he called you-” TJ cut himself off, looking down. When he looked back up, he made direct eye contact with Cyrus, his expression fierce and unyielding.
“And Jesus, Cyrus, it just made me so fucking angry, I didn’t even realize what I was doing until, well…” He trailed off, and Cyrus could tell he was working himself up again. Before he could think, Cyrus grabbed TJ’s hands.
“Hey, it’s okay. He’s an idiot, Teej. Thank you for standing up to me, but next time, just walk away. He isn’t worth it. I don’t want to see you hurt like this ever again. I really don’t think I could handle it.” Cyrus says, only half-joking by the end. He brought his hand up to run his thumb over a bruise on TJ’s cheek.
“Cyrus, I would do anything for you.” TJ whispers, leaning into Cyrus’s touch. They just sat like that for a moment, enjoying the closeness. Cyrus’s eyes flickered up to TJ’s lips and stayed there for a moment before moving back up to his eyes.
“TJ, uh, can I-” Cyrus begins, his voice barely above a whisper. TJ’s eyebrows rose in shock. Cyrus panicked, scooting away.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“Cyrus, please fucking kiss me.” TJ choked out, his voice urgent.
Cyrus didn’t need to be told twice. He tugged TJ in gently by the strings of his hoodie, their lips meeting softly. Cyrus kissed firmly but sweetly, trying to convey every emotion he felt towards TJ at once. TJ kissed back desperately as if he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. Maybe he had.
They pulled away after a while, dazed and smiling widely.
“Thanks,” Cyrus breathed out, causing TJ to dissolve in a fit of laughter, relief flowing through him.
“Anytime, Underdog.” He responded, pulling Cyrus into his body. Cyrus made a noise of protest and jumped up from the bed. He walked over to the light switch and shut the fairy lights off, then walked back over to TJ, who was smiling fondly.
“Energy-saving king.”
“Shut up, TJ,” Cyrus said, yelping as the older boy pulled him onto the bed. TJ pulled the blanket over both of them, and Cyrus snuggled up to him.
“Goodnight, Teej.”
“Goodnight, Cy. We’ll talk tomorrow?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”
Cyrus was too.