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Another double tap on the left side of the screen sends the video back ten seconds.
For the fifth time Rhett watches as Link’s lips close in on his own, the noodle rapidly vanishing in the space between them. Link tilting his head up, angling his shoulders towards Rhett’s, pressing their noses together. Not stopping until Rhett pulls away and leaves him there, leaning halfway across the checkered dinner table.
“No, no. You bailed,” the words ring harsh in his memory, an accusation he shot back at Link so easily during More. The same accusation that carried him onto their office couch and convinced him to pull up the footage on his phone for a verdict.
Link had been right.
Listless, Rhett double taps once more.
When the office door opens and shuts and Link is suddenly there, Rhett doesn’t follow his knee jerk reaction of muting or turning off the clip. It’s just their show. Nothing telling. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
He doesn’t look up to see Link’s face, either.
The audio plays, crisp: “It’s glue! It’s glue!”
Link claps in instant recognition, drawing Rhett’s eye, and stabs a finger at him from the door. “I told you it was you who bailed!” The trademark giddiness in his tone is gone, replaced with a fragile lining of indignation.
Rhett stays quiet, gaze falling back to the screen and the gentle, easy kisses Jack and Nataly had shared.
“Every single time, you pulled away,” Link mumbles on the short walk to their desk. “Then tried to pin it on me. Thanks, for that, by the way.”
Rhett lets his phone fall into his lap. Watches Link’s back as the other rifles through drawers, searching for something.
“Dumb idea for an episode, honestly.” Link’s voice gets quieter with each addition.
When Rhett sets his phone on the coffee table and stands, Link spins to face him. They stare at one another wordlessly for a time, the only movement in the room being the gradual crease of Link’s brow. Rhett feels the weight in his chest–in both of their chests–as the eye contact stretches as thin as it will go. He steps over to his partner in noiseless, even paces.
“You have something you wanna say?” Link pushes the question out. Waits.
Rhett reaches up, brings steady fingers to Link’s jawline and caresses back below his ears. He’s careful not to miss the way those beloved eyes drift shut at the affection, drinking it in. With a tender hold, Rhett tilts his head up and presses their lips together in soft, imploring apology.
It doesn’t last long–not as long as Rhett wants it to. His fleeting thumb brushes Link’s cheek.
“I won’t bail on you next time.”