Work Text:
Avery wasn’t even sure how Jamie convinced him to come to this party. It was a wonder he was there at all, considering the intense disdain his mother held for Jamie. But sitting squashed between him and the arm of the couch -- which was definitely overcapacity-- all he truly wanted to do was go home.
But he couldn’t, because Carter was his ride and he hadn’t seen him since Jamie had dragged him by the wrist into the kitchen, where he dug through the coolers for a bottle of water. After which they were immediately swarmed by people congratulating Jamie and thrusting drinks into his hands.
It was a party to celebrate the football team making it to states, so Jamie being swamped by adoring fans wasn’t all that surprising. Avery managed to squirm through the densely packed kitchen and broke into the moderately less crowded living room. Music was blasting from the massive stereos bracketing an obnoxiously large flat screen T.V. People were dancing all around the room in little clumps, drinks sloshing in their cups. Near the middle of the room was the biggest group, where teenagers ground drunkenly on one another while indistinctly shouting slurred conversations.
Avery edged along the wall, stepping around a couple nearly swallowing each others’ tongues, making his way towards the unexpectedly empty couch. He dodged a group of excited drunk girls who wanted him to dance with them, and made it safely to the couch. There he promptly curled up in the corner, leaning against the arm, where he planned to stay until Carter and Jamie had had their fill and they headed home.
The pounding house music had only grown louder as the night wore on, shaking the house. The booming bass only amplified the tortuous headache throbbing maliciously behind Avery’s temples. He grimaced.
Jamie downed another cup of cheap beer, laughing at a story someone on the couch was telling. His smile was utterly intoxicating as he turned to Avery, all loose limbs and excitement. Avery looked down at his phone, ignoring the blush that burned on his cheeks, as Jamie nonchalantly threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest.
“Avery,” Jamie whined, leaning in so close to his ear that he could smell the booze on his breath. “Avery you’re-- did you know how cute you are?”
Avery scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“No! Really!” he insisted, holding Avery close. “You’re so, like, cute and small! I mean-- come on just look.” Jamie reached down, grabbing one of Avery’s hands. “Your hands are so little-- they’re like… they shouldn’t be real. They’re like a baby’s hand look!”
Jamie closed his fist around Avery’s entire hand, staring awestruck at how his larger hand engulfed Avery’s smaller, pale hand.
“Thank you so much for that emasculating compliment,” Avery replied, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the party.
But Jamie was too absorbed in inspecting Avery’s hand to respond, if he’d even heard him in the first place. Avery watched as Jamie turned his pale hand over and traced his tan index finger along the length of each digit. The sensation of Jamie’s delicate touch lingered, sort of ticklish, as his attention moved to his thumb. Jamie completed his task in silence, and once he was done he folded Avery’s fingers into his palm, making a loose fist, then bowed his head over his small hand.
“Uh, Jamie?”
He mumbled something but Avery couldn’t understand him.
“What?” he asked, leaning closer to Jamie.
“Your hand is so small!” Jamie cried, looking up at Avery with watery eyes. “I want to protect it!”
Avery froze in Jamie’s tear-filled gaze. He really wouldn’t have pegged Jamie as an emotional drunk, so Avery found himself at a loss. He glanced at the other people on the couch to see if they could offer assistance but they were off in their own worlds.
“Avery,” Jamie whined, bringing Avery’s hostage hand up to rest his cheek on it. “What should I do…”
“What do you mean?” Avery asked, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to them by just going along with Jamie’s whims.
“I want to keep all of you safe,” Jamie was slurring his speech, vowels running together. “I don’t know how you’re… you are a super--”
Avery lunged up, slamming his free hand over Jamie’s mouth. He smiled tensely at the disgruntled jock. “Remember, that’s a secret Jamie.”
Understanding dawned in Jamie’s glazed eyes, or at least what Avery hoped was understanding, as he nodded against the hand over his mouth. Cautiously, Avery pulled his hand away.
“Our secret,” he smiled drunkenly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Yeah, our secret,” Avery replied, offering a small smile in return, which Jamie stared at starry-eyed and open-mouthed.
“What secret?” Carter half-yelled, making Avery flinch back from Jamie.
“Jesus Christ! Where have you been?”
“Places!” Carter said, casually flattening the collar of his shirt back down.
Avery stared up at him, unamused, but Carter ignored him in favor of looking Jamie over.
“What’s up with him?”
“He’s drunk.”
“Well yeah,” Carter laughed. “But why is he holding your hand like… that?”
Jamie was nuzzling Avery’s hand with his cheek, a dopey smile on his face.
“He said he wants to protect my hand,” Avery offered.
“Oh...kay?”
“Carter!” Jamie barked, realizing belated that his friend had arrived. “Look, look! Look how small Avery’s hand is.”
He thrust Avery’s hand in Carter’s direction, nearly yanking Avery off the couch with the movement. Carter looked from Avery’s hand to his face, a questioning expression arching his brow. Avery just shrugged half-heartedly.
“Yeah dude, he’s got small hands.”
Jamie smiled, appearing satisfied as he pulled Avery’s hand back to him.
“I think it’s about time we go home,” Carter said, watching Jamie rest his face against Avery’s hand.
“Yeah.”
Later, after wrestling Jamie into the car-- which included a defeated compromise that saw both he and Avery crawling into the backseat-- Avery was watching the city blur by outside the window.
“Is he always like this?” Avery asked, looking up at the back of the driver seat’s headrest. “Clingy and shit.”
“Not usually,” Carter said, coming to a slow stop at a traffic light. “Most of the time he’s just talking or dancing if enough people ask him to. I’ve never seen him stick to someone like this before. And he definitely hasn’t cried over anyone’s hand.”
He sighed, knowing he shouldn’t have told Carter about that. He looked down at Jamie, who had insisted on resting his head on Avery’s lap-- still holding one of his hands while dozing.
“I wonder what was different,” Avery wondered out loud.
“You are dude. He usually isn’t wasted around you-- probably because he’d act like this,” Carter snickered.
“Maybe.”
Avery ran a hand through Jamie’s hair, watching his fingers muss the soft brown waves for a moment, before turning his attention back to the car window, leaning his head against the headrest as the city rushed by them.