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A sudden laugh broke Arin out of a reverie.
He turned to see Dan leaning in the doorway, looking both ridiculous and adorable in his shabby worn boxers and rumpled shirt. The sun was at his back, picking up bits of gold in his curls and grey in his stubble, and highlighting the faint, fuzzy hairs on his slender thighs. When he met Arin’s eyes he smiled and Arin thought that he had no right to look that goddamn good having just rolled out of bed.
It wasn’t the first time they’d been in bed together. It was still new, though, and so fragile. Arin sometimes felt like he was holding fine spun glass in his big clumsy hands, half amazed that the universe would trust him with this arrangement and half terrified that he was going to fuck it all up. Dan was a whirlwind of romance and charm, fluid and graceful in bed, like something straight out of Arin’s dreams from years past. And yet he could still give Arin that big doofy smile, comfortable as they were when they’d been just friends - just two guys, hanging out. Arin could have both of those Dans at once, the goofball and the hopeless romantic. Somehow the universe had decided he was good enough for the two most amazing people on the planet.
He wondered if he’d ever get used to it. He wondered if he ever wanted to get used to it.
“Hey, space case,” Dan said, with another yawn. “What are you thinking about?”
For all Arin’s experience with married life, he couldn’t find a way to express his stupid half-baked poetic thoughts out loud, not without making a joke of it. “I was thinking about how this is the first time you’ve slept here.”
Dan got it, somehow. He always did. “It makes it feel more real, doesn’t it?”
“Weirdly, yeah. Not that it’s any less real than in the tour bus, or - ”
“ - the Grump room?” Dan finished, grinning.
It was where they’d had their first kiss. It had been the site of a few other firsts, too.
Arin felt heat flood him at the memory. “Yeah.”
“I kinda like it. Waking up here.”
“Good,” Arin said, like an idiot. He fumbled on the counter. “Breakfast will be ready soon. You wanna chill on the couch, and I’ll wake you up when it’s done?”
“I’d rather chill here. What are you making?” Dan peered past him. “Dude, you didn’t have to. I’m fine with just cereal or something.”
“Well, you said that you’ve never had my famous pancakes.”
Dan looked at him with surprise. “Didn’t I say that like a month ago?”
Arin shrugged. “Something like that.”
“And you remembered.”
“Is that weird?”
“For you? Yeah, it’s kinda weird. Hey, you made coffee.”
Arin got a mug down from the cupboard and pushed it towards the pot. Dan gave him another one of his soft sleepy smiles and went about making it to his liking. He laughed when Arin paused over the flour, then yanked out a pink apron covered in cherry blossoms and tied it on before he started sifting.
“What do you mean it’s weird?” Arin eventually asked.
“Dunno.” Dan hiked himself up onto the counter and plonked his butt there, legs dangling. “Since when do you have such a good memory?”
Arin snorted. He poured his bowl of wet ingredients into the bowl of dry and started to stir it all together. “I don’t. You’re the memory guy. You always said that since you quit weed your memory got like a million times sharper.”
“Exactly. And you forget your own jokes and laugh your ass off when I tell you things you said like its your first time hearing it.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“How is it different?”
Arin shrugged again and kept mixing. He could see Dan out of his peripherals, sipping at his coffee. Arin set the bowl of pancake mix aside and rummaged in the fridge.
“Strawberry pancakes?” Dan wondered as Arin emerged.
“They’re gonna go on top, with the whipped cream.”
“Like Cool Whip?”
“No, the real shit. You said Cool Whip tastes like plastic.”
Dan blinked. “There you go again, remembering things.”
Arin wasn’t sure what to say. He sliced the tips from the strawberries and cut them lengthwise.
Dan leaned his head back against the cupboards. “I said that about Cool Whip three years ago. At least. It was when we saw Ross, eating a tub of it frozen like ice cream like a fucking savage. I’m pretty sure it’s never come up since.”
“I don’t remember Ross. Was he really eating Cool Whip? Like with a spoon?”
“Of course he was, he’s disgusting. You told him it was gross. How do you not remember that, but you remember the one thing I said?”
Arin wasn’t sure how to tell Dan that everything about him burned bright at the front of his mind. How he’d occupied Arin’s thoughts for years, a constant presence that he’d tried in vain to ignore. Dan wasn’t someone easily ignored. His presence lit up any room, and when he wasn’t there he stuck like sunspots.
“I guess I just remember the important stuff,” Arin said eventually. That wasn’t very eloquent, but fuck it, it was early.
Dan was silent for a time, watching Arin work. Arin could see the look of wonder on Dan’s face and he felt a little twist in his stomach as he realized that maybe Dan had known what Arin had wanted to say anyway. The two of them didn’t need any grand gestures to know what they meant to each other. That was their way; a quiet vein of romance through their solid friendship, everything as it was before, but more.
The golden moment broke, and Dan stirred. “Can I have a strawberry?” he asked, making grabby hands in Arin’s direction. All trace of sleep was gone from his face
“I don’t know, can you?”
Dan huffed. “May I have a strawberry?”
“With whipped cream?”
“Hell yeah, give it to me.”
Arin picked up one fresh from the carton, one that hadn’t been cut, and dunked one end in his bowl of whipped cream. He offered it to Dan’s mouth and grinned.
Dan leaned forward. He made sure to catch Arin’s eye as he flicked his tongue out and came away with a smear of white on his tongue and a wicked smile.
Arin took the bait and made the obvious joke. “You like eating my cream?”
“Arin, you dirty bastard. Making this sexual.”
“Dude, I’m not the one fellating the fucking thing.”
Dan laughed and snatched the berry between his teeth.
Arin had the fruit chopped, the cream whipped, the pain oiled and everything ready to go. But the shine of strawberry juice on Dan’s lips was too tempting to ignore.
Arin dropped his fork into the bowl and crossed over to him in two strides. Dan’s laugh caught in his throat as Arin nudged his way between his legs.
“Arin,” Dan started huskily, and Arin kissed him.
Dan gasped into his mouth and wrapped his legs around Arin’s waist. He leaned forward and Arin felt the weight of him, knew that he could easily lift Dan up and carry him, to the couch or the bed. His mouth tasted like bitter coffee but Arin didn’t even mind. He was the luckiest asshole on planet Earth. Dan easily took control of the kiss and Arin followed his lead, clutching onto the counter with one hand like he was going to fly right up off the ground. The way Dan kissed always gave him vertigo.
Time slipped by, breakfast forgotten. Arin remembered the first time Dan had put his hands in his hair like this, the way his huge hands made Arin feel small. He remembered the first time Dan had shakily inched closer to him on the Grump couch, the way their thighs pressed together. He remembered that Dan was wearing the Modesto Nuts shirt that Arin bought for him second hand when they’d kissed for the first time. He remembered the bruise on Dan’s shin the first time Arin had slid his jeans down his thighs. He remembered the day he’d met Dan, how exhilarated he’d been, how something had just - clicked into place for him.
Present-day Dan’s hands slid around Arin’s back and found his apron strings. He tugged, but Arin pulled away.
“Nuh-uh. You only get dessert after you eat your meal.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky swear.”
“Then get that sweet ass back to work, Hanson, I’m hungry.”
Arin put his hands on his hips and huffed, and Dan slid off the counter.
“Just kidding, baby bear,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around Arin’s waist and kissed the back of his neck. “I love you.”