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They had known when they parted that last time, it would likely be a long while before they could see one another again. It hasn't made the intervening weeks any easier. It's the longest they've been apart since Rhett went to Slovakia. Granted, they've been in regular communication but not routinely sharing the same space is something neither is accustomed to.
They're both loathe to admit how hard it's been. Link won't acknowledge the sunken look to his face, the stresses of a worldwide pandemic compounded by missing a part of himself. Rhett knows, of course. He does all he can, being idiotic for entertainment value and offering what support can be given at a distance.
They vlog making social distancing arms and testing them out, all under the excuse of amusement. It takes all of Link's strength to hold himself back.
Less than a month later they get the green light. It feels like a tease, a treat dangled to coax them forward despite the risk of it being snatched away as they approach. The day creeps closer and it's clear that they're finally seeing each other again. Face to face, no mask, for the first time in months.
Rhett's anxious, a fluttering he hasn't felt in his belly in what feels like eons. Link's car is already in the parking lot. Fluttering morphs into a violent writhing. Feeling the nauseous edge of anxiety, he smooths his hands down the front of his pant legs, a reflex born of frequently sweaty palms.
He forces himself from the car before he sits there long enough to be found out.
For all the nerves, it's anticlimactic finding Link. They don't really do hellos and goodbyes but the jitters shake free an awkward, "Hey man." Link's glance is joyful surprise but the jerky movement is born of confusion. He waves one hand, a reflexive greeting. It doesn't take long for them to settle in and talk shop but Rhett swears there's an emotional sheen to Link's eyes making his blue shine that much brighter.
They film and for as many times as they've done this, Rhett feels a bit out of place, awkwardly announces that Link can kiss him if he wants. It passes as a joke but he's not sure he meant it as one.
It's so fast, too soon they're leaving to go back home. He feels a vice around his throat as they walk to their cars, wondering if it's in his mind that Link seems to be dragging his feet. Link's hand is curled over the car door handle, unmoving.
"Link."
"Huh?"
Oh hell, he frets, not having a plan beyond stopping his leaving. "Uh. I don't.. you need to get home right away?"
His hand falls away from his car. "I suppose I don't."
Rhett takes too long to gather his words.
"But I don't know where you're wanting to go, not much is open and it probably ain't a good idea anyway."
He blurts out in a panic, "No no, wouldn't ask you to go anywhere. Of course not." A breath and he plows ahead. "Maybe just the creative house? Just for a little bit?" I'm not ready to go.
A quiet breath escapes Link and he looks, perhaps relieved. But he can see the underlying tenseness to his form that wriggles into his belly. He's bitten his lip beneath his mustache before Link takes a step towards him, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. "Riding with you?"
It's not usually a question but these aren't usual times. "Yeah let's go."
The ride is quieter than others they've shared, especially considering Link's not the one driving. With restrictions and closures, the traffic isn't bad; they arrive in record time.
Not much thought to it, they meander inside. Rhett rummages for snacks while Link fiddles with his laptop and charger. Silly a concern as it is, it's reassuring that they can still occupy the same area and just be.
Idle chatter and creative schemes pass easy, both eager with ideas now that they're free from the constraints of split screen format. Conversation fades to a well known silence. Link fidgets with his ring.
A lump Rhett's grown too accustomed to having in his throat builds. It burns as he softly admits, "I missed you."
He pauses, feeling the phantom pain of separation. Still, he sidesteps, "I ain't gone nowhere."
It's true, however, the look that meets his eyes says everything.
Link's eyes turn down before he can catch himself and flicks back up. "Yeah I know. Missed you too."
There's a sadness in his face that Rhett can't handle; he opens his arms with a low, urgent noise.
It should feel easy, natural as a bee to the flower, but still an unease churns deep in Link's belly. Objectively, he hasn't been apart from non-household members for all that long but it's felt like an eternity. He's frozen in indecision, hesitation until Rhett cracks and whines out a pitiful, "Please." Link falls into the embrace with a gasp like he might sink into the comfort of his own bed at the end of a stressful day. He clutches him as though he may never again have the chance to be so close.
Rhett holds on just as tight. If Rhett’s shirt gets a bit wet, he doesn’t so much as blink, may be hiding his own wet face in Link’s unkempt hair.
They stand there long enough, swaying to a silent rhythm, until Rhett’s back can’t handle it anymore and he pulls Link to the couch. Link’s folded up against his side, face against Rhett’s shirt.
His voice is small, shivers, "I don't ever want to stay away like this again."
"We won't have to."
Link doesn’t say it’s assurance he may not be able to keep. He hums, hopeful and skeptical all in one.
A wordless shift and the nestle in, snuggled together in a way they’ve not done before. It’s solace in a tumultuous time, anything buoyant to keep them afloat.
Rhett rumbles, at peace for a fleeting moment, “This is nice.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
A pause. “Maybe but I don’t care.” The mutual anymore goes unsaid.
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
Link’s cold fingers tuck into Rhett’s side and he closes his eyes. Rhett’s arm keeps him snug to his side, his hand petting his hair, mesmerized following streaks of silver.
Just as Link’s grasp on consciousness is failing, Rhett affirms, “Won’t ever let us apart again.”
It's a bold promise that they both cling to like ivy creeping over stone.