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Andrew doesn’t want to do this.
Not because Steven isn’t a decent guy (he is) or that a show about food isn’t a dream awesome idea (it is), but --
The on-camera thing, it’s not really his thing. He does it sometimes, sure, but he feels weird and crawly after and wishes he has the power to delete it all off the internet.
(like, he’s made a name as the ‘creepy guy’ of Buzzfeed, who really wants that?
they’re funny, but.)
But Steven is determined. Every time Andrew says no, Steven just smiles, pats him on the shoulder, and says something like “you’ll think about it.”
And as he walks away, Andrew does think about it.
(It’s like he has magic powers, it’s unfair, how is he supposed to outsmart magic powers?)
He does it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to enjoy it.
Or do corny things like touching their food together and saying ‘cheers’.
(except of course he gives in to that and it becomes their thing for years, to the point Andrew feels off in some way if they don’t.)
Steven’s an okay guy.
He’s fun and funny and knows a lot about food and has this disarming way about him that little by little drags Andrew out of his shell.
The hard stare of the camera slowly fades into a glance and then a nothing; it’s just him and Steven (and Adam, he likes Adam, too) hanging out and eating food and...
He’s never had a friend before, like this.
He’s had friends.
But not the kind of friend where, when he’s tucked away in a hotel room about to fall asleep, he sees their smile behind his closed eyes.
And he can’t help but smile, too.
Steven comes over one day with his laptop, says “don’t freak out”.
As if that’s ever worked on anyone, especially Andrew. But he shrugs, rubs the tingles out of his hands a bit. “Okay, not freaking out.”
“This could be good for us,” Steven continues, not making eye contact with him, which kicks up Andrew’s breathing even as he’s telling himself Steven has to focus on the screen.
He clicks and a video starts to play and Andrew leans in to watch.
It’s them.
Clips of their videos, edited together.
Set to a romantic song.
Something flutters in Andrew’s chest and he coughs it out through a laugh. “Did you make this, Steven? Awww.”
“No!” Steven shakes his head. “They, um, the, some of the fans, they.” He brings his hand over his face and mumbles something.
Andrew leans in toward him. “What was that?”
“Nnn.”
“Steven?”
“Ship.” He finally drops his hand, giving Andrew a look he can’t quite decipher. Which is also worrying, as Steven’s face usually broadcasts his emotions like a neon sign.
“What is...”
“It means they think we’re dating. or they like the idea of it, or whatever.”
“Oh.”
That ‘oh’ kind of sits in the air between them, confused on what to do with itself.
Andrew finally finds the ability to form words. “You said that could be a good thing?”
(is he losing it or are Steven’s cheeks flushed?)
“Well, usually, when, uh.” Steven clears his throat. “When people... ship people... it makes their show more popular.”
There's a twist inside Andrew then, a strange mix of disappointment (what?) and the amplified worry from before. He laughs through it again, fluttering his lashes. “You want to date me for the views?”
He’s not crazy, by the way, Steven’s face is fire-engine red. He guesses it makes sense; in his shoes he’d be embarrassed by the idea of dating himself, too.
Steven laughs back. “Sounds like a plan,” he teases, pretending to dust a kiss to the top of Andrew’s head before he leaves.
Andrew stays there a moment, shifting in his chair.
Then he slides over the laptop Steven left, watching the video again.
It’s hard to tell things about people when you’re not sure what their intentions are.
Because yeah, Steven sits closer to him sometimes now, and makes flirtatious little jokes, and his eye contact game is stronger than ever, but--
Is he doing it for the views, can’t help but whisper in the back of Andrew’s mind.
Followed by his self-critic chiming in, of course he’s doing it for the views, you idiot.
And he can usually counter his self-critic, get into a pretty good sparring match, sometimes even defeat him, but not on this.
Steven’s smiles are starting to make him sad, and he hates that feeling, and the camera’s unrelenting stare is back, and --
“Dude.” They’re standing outside some restaurant in NYC, about to go in there and eat what Andrew secretly feels will be an overpriced meal, and Steven’s hand is on his arm, and Andrew’s just staring at the ground, counting the number of lines and cracks in the concrete sidewalk.
“Dude,” Andrew echoes. “What?”
“What’s wrong today? You’re not yourself.”
“I haven’t been myself since we started doing this,” Andrew blurts out -- and looks up just in time to see the hurt flicker across Steven’s face.
No, he wants to say. No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it, like, good...
“We should go inside.”
like not myself, but this self is better. like maybe this self is better.
He doesn’t say any of that, though, he just shuffles inside after Steven with a quiet “okay”.
“Turn the camera off.”
“What?”
“Turn it off, Adam. Please.”
Adam gives him a confused look, followed by a glance at Steven for approval. Steven nods and Adam turns it off.
They’re sitting in the same restaurant, where the meal actually wasn’t overpriced and would’ve been amazing, had it not stuck like sandpaper in Andrew’s mouth.
Had he not spent the entire time with his stomach in knots,
feeling like Steven was seven hundred feet across the table instead of right beside him.
“Can you give us a moment alone?” Steven asks Adam, in a softer voice than Andrew’s ever heard him use.
Adam makes some noises about checking footage and about going to talk to the chef, and then it’s just the two of them, with two small bowls of untouched complimentary ice cream.
“Are you ready to tell me--”
“Is it for the shipping?”
Steven freezes, still halfway on his own sentence. “I’m -- I’m sorry?”
“All of it.” Andrew keeps his eyes off Steven. This is a mistake, a question they can’t go back from, but for some fucking reason, he needs to know.
(you know the reason, his way-too-fast heartbeat is drumming out, as he ignores it.)
Steven’s still frozen.
“The hugging, the leaning, the smiles, the...” His throat’s getting tight and he pushes the ice cream bowl away, then wishes he hadn’t: it would’ve been something else to do other than this. “The us,” he gets out, his voice cracking as it never has. “Is all of that for the--”
He doesn’t get the end of the question out because Steven is there, warm and pressed against him and his fingertips fluttering along his stubble and his lips brushing over his and...
His heart slows down, everything slows down, the self-critic dies, as Steven’s kissing him.
kissing him like he’s been waiting far too long.
kissing him like Andrew’s home.
Someone makes a groaning sound --
and holy shit, it’s him.
Andrew is growling into Steven’s mouth like a disgusting needy little thing and he doesn’t care, because he’s ready to lean back, pull Steven over him, in a freaking restaurant...
Steven breaks the kiss, grinning, his eyes dancing with mirth. “It sounds like you already knew it wasn’t.”
“Shut up.” He quickly grabs the ice cream, shoveling it in, grateful for the cold at this moment.
Steven ruffles his hair, shaking his head still with that damned look on his face, the one Andrew now wants to kiss away. “I showed you the video to see what you’d say.”
“So that’s not a thing? The shipping?”
He brushes some ice cream off Andrew’s lip with his thumb. “Oh, it is...” The grin comes back, full force. “Just saying that, I ship us, too.”