Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ransom sat with a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth watching the news. He could feel his eyes widening as if they were trying to jump from his skull. It was a wonder that he kept the spoon from falling. Dimly, he realized him and Lardo would have to cancel their party. 

Stay at home orders along with a run on grocery stores and mass buying of toiletries. He could feel his heart banging against his sternum as if it were demanding to be set free. He was the only one home, where the hell was everyone? 

His phone buzzed and he looked down to see his family group chat asking his sister if her and her husband were prepared. If the hospitals were prepared. How serious this thing really was. 

She made a joke about how Ransom should’ve gone to med school so he could help. There were laughing emojis and reactions and Ransom, on a small level, knew it was a joke. But he could feel his stomach drop as if it were plunging off a tall building. 

He felt himself grab his laptop to start looking at old options he never thought he would be looking at again. John Hopkins was nice, close enough, expensive but loans are loans. Trivial in the face of helping people like he should’ve been. Like he could’ve been. 

The rest of his body was on autopilot as he heard Shitty telling him Nursey would be traveling down to stay with him outside of the city. Holster quietly loaded up the groceries in the kitchen and an inexplicable amount of toilet paper and told the other two to leave him alone. 

Ransom’s guilt rushed through his body as he laid down. His selfishness is why he’s not helping. Saving lives was always theoretical, a pandemic was implausible, not even something to consider. 

Life threw him a curveball and Ransom had to play catch up, he can’t be selfish again.

April 29th: 

“So Bits, excel is saying you’re pretty good. Most influencers start losing steam because their niche is very trendy or they don’t have a niche at all, but you’re doing great. Great engagement on IG, you’re a master at Twitter...are you sure you don’t want to look into Tik-Tok? They have chefs on there, bro.” 

Ransom leaned back from his desk, laptop open to analyze all of Bitty’s social media engagement, ad, merch, and partnership revenue, and his cookbook sales. 

He could see Bitty frowning in concentration over FaceTime. They used to do this in person, make a day of it and goof off acting like they were calculating quarterly sales for a Fortune 500 company instead of one, very successful, social media influencer. 

He smiled fondly at Bitty’s face. One time Bitty had styled his hair and had worn one of his nicer suits to the Haus and acted like someone out of the Wolf of Wall Street and Ransom had played the part of a scamming accountant beautifully. 

Ransom’s smile turned wistful, he hadn’t gotten to see Bitty in person for months. They were both busy with work and living in two cities already made most visits a weekend venture. Then everything was shut down right before Ransom and Lardo had a massive birthday kegster for themselves planned. 

“Nah, I’ll leave that to the younger generation or something. Like, if I used it I wouldn’t use it for business and I would keep it private.” Bitty looked up at Ransom, his brows furrowed as he looked back at the camera. He looked very adamant about it.  “Social media is fun and it’s how I make a living but...you remember what happened the year after I graduated.”  

Bitty’s face went from the iron stubbornness to that black cloud of shame. Bitty had become obsessed with his image and receiving validation from his fans and followers over every post. His lighthearted and endearing tweets were replaced with calculated and precise posts. It was concerning to all of them at the time. 

Ransom grinned back in reassurance to his friend, “Yeah dude, no one wants to see you scheduling Tik-Tok dance posts and biting our heads off. Luckily you’re past that. You’re good bro.” 

Bitty grinned back at him, “Thanks dude.” 

“No wor-” He cut himself off at the sound of Bitty screaming bloody murder. 

“She did NOT!” 

“Who didn’t do what?”

“Just kill me already woman!”

“Bits!”

“Oh my God, I have to listen like right now.” 

“Bits! What the hell?” Ransom felt his stomach knot up at the end of potentially bad news, a renewed jam feud in the middle of all this, where Bitty is feeling frazzled and out of his element could actually become something serious.

Bitty looked up like he forgot he was on the phone, but he didn’t look apologetic. 

“Check Megan’s IG and then FaceTime me on your mac so we can listen! GO!” He practically shouted. 

Ransom let out a breath of relief. Pop culture, typically something Bits talked to Holster about but Ransom loved Megan Thee Stallion. And clearly this wasn’t just a regular single.

He pressed play on it without looking on it and immediately heard a voice that wasn’t Megan. A voice he grew up with and also became intimately familiar with after living with Bitty for two years. 

Ransom’s grin split across his face as he looked at one of his best friends getting his life to the track. It was a good song. He could feel his fingers tapping along to the beat. 

“Ransom, they’re giving all the money from this song to Houston for the virus stuff. They’re so freakin’ cool!” Bitty said, starry eyed and breathless. 

Ransom felt the desire to get up and party. There just wasn’t a party to go to. “Bits, next time I see you, I don’t care if it’s in a church or at a movie theater or in a library, we are fucking raging to this song!” He said, getting up from his chair. 

“Duh! Now be quiet, I gotta start it over.” Bitty huffed, indignant and fondly exasperated as he pressed rewind. 

Ransom was overcome by a love for his friend, grateful that the Southern baker stuck through with hockey, picked Samwell, kept in contact. He was one of Ransom’s favorite people. 

May 21st: 

Haus 2.0 did not have a reading room like Haus 1.0 did. Which was fine considering they moved out of a college town and into the Boston suburbs. Nobody in the house wanted the cops called on them for weed or noise or the typical frat house complaints. It did have a lot of privacy and old, tall, gnarled trees with leaves that provided a screen between them and the next nosy neighbor.  

Ransom and Shitty sat next to each other smoking a blunt. 

“Dude, shotgun it.” 

Ransom rolled his eyes at Shitty’s third request to shotgun the joint, “Shits, if you want to kiss me just ask.” He joked. 

Shitty barked out a laugh, “Bro, not only do I want to kiss you...but I need you to shotgun this shit! It’ll take you there faster,” he said this last bit with wiggling eyebrows and a creepy wiggling stache. 

Ransom swallowed, his throat feeling thick, like he had cottonmouth and he hadn’t even taken a pull yet. Shitty knew Ransom needed this. Needed to have some pressure taken off. He nodded. 

“Fine, but no tongue this time. I don’t know how Lards kisses someone so enthusiastic,” He said before leaning in, Shitty ready to give him his hit. 

Yep, the mustache was terrible to kiss. 

He sat back, patiently waiting while the wind blew in the backyard. He saw Shitty light some incense and sat back, also patient. 

The yard had grass that was creeping up to the ankles that Shitty refused to let anyone cut it, citing nature and environmental reasons, along with sticking it to shitty HOAs. He got out of every fine and notice so far. Harvard was coming in handy. 

Ransom took three hits when Shitty passed him the blunt. Slowly. He watched the smoke float into O’s from his mouth. 

His perception was starting to get hazy around the edges of his vision. His arms were feeling heavy. His head felt too heavy for his neck and like a feather at the same time. 

And his mind...blissfully quiet. 

“Shits.” 

Shitty gave back a grunt.

“Why did you decide on law school if your dad and his family suck ass and your mom’s parents are stiffs?” A mild way of asking a loaded question. 

Ransom started giggling at the idea of stiff white people dancing. 

“The Stiffs are stiff!” He said, before devolving into uncontrollable giggles. 

“BRO WHAT!” Shitty yelled in confusion, before he also started giggling uncontrollably. 

“Bro, your grandparents can’t dance for shit.” Ransom weezed out, stomach cramping from laughter and lack of air. 

Shitty let out a howl at that one. Throwing his hair back, the magnificent flow starting to grow back. 

Shitty turned to Ransom who was half out of seat, “Bro get this...they fucking waltz,” he said, whispering like it was a secret that Ransom shouldn’t know. 

The two of them erupted into even louder cackles at that one. 

The back door slid open, unheard by them, as Nursey and Lardo looked on. 

Lardo looked between them with amusement in her eyes, “Bro, wanna take the rest of that joint downstairs and join Holster with some Mario Kart?” 

“Lards, you’re reading my mind. I’m finishing up my guac right now, I gotta find the olive oil, but grab that shit and I’ll meet you downstairs.” Nursey offered a fist bump which Lardo returned before ducking back in the haus, towards the kitchen. 

Lardo walked out and intercepted the blunt that Shitty was loosely holding while the two of them caught their breath. 

“I’m taking this bros. Whenever you guys want, we have guac and shit with Mario Kart downstairs.” She stubbed the blunt out and looked on at her two boys. 

Shitty’s shorts were riding even higher on his thighs than usual, bunched up from the constant movement and stretch, eyes red and glazed over as he looked at Lardo with fondness and made a grabbing motion with his hands. 

She rolled her eyes and sat down in his lap,fingers combing through his hair as she looked over at Ransom.

He looked back, eyes just as red and cloudy, less relaxed than Shitty. Shoulders still slightly tensed. Ransom had a tendency to look like he was on the verge of taking a deep sigh but held it in instead. She reached out over Shitty’s lap offering her hand. 

Ransom took it back and squeezed, looking at her slight smile and eyes that told him he was loved and safe and gave him encouragement. 

He heard her say, “I’ll let you guys talk,” before she got up and walked inside, shutting the door behind her. 

Ransom snorted a bit and turned back to Shitty and said, “Bro, fuck law school. Why’d you do it?”

Shitty’s face turned upwards as he sat there. His eyes were glossy but focused. He scratched at the scruff growing on his cheeks. 

“Brah, I talk a good game of all the shit I hate, all the shit I want to change, all the shit that needs to change...this is how I can do it you know? I’m not going to save the world but I have to do something, you know?” He said, turning back to Ransom with a face that was serious and maybe a little confused at the random question. 

“I think so but…” at that Ransom sighed and looked away from Shitty, thoughts on all the hospitals he could’ve been in at this point, a resident but helping. “Do you actually like it?” He finished. 

“Dude, I fucking love it! I can’t imagine doing anything else right now. What’s up brah?” He asked standing up and over Ransom with his hand extended. 

Ransom took it and let himself be pulled up, “I think so bro. Want to go crush Holster and Nursey in Mario Kart?” 

Shitty whooped and threw his arms around Ransom, hugging him tight. “Brah, I call Daisy.” He whispered before rushing towards the house. 

Ransom’s head still felt like it was in the clouds but he blew the incense out and walked to the door. Shitty's hugs were always nice and always came at the right moment. He walked to the door, med school angst can wait, he had smackdowns to dish out.  

June 3rd: 

“Oh.”

That word was carried with a sigh, trepidation present as the speaker gripped the acceptance letter in his hands. His eyes focused and unfocused on the words, “Congratulations Justin Oluransi, you have been accepted to”...before he looked up again and looked around. He could hear Holster’s voice upstairs, brassy and loud and dark, cursing out Shitty. Mario Kart or Smash Bros...maybe Catan now that Jack didn’t live with them. He must’ve lost. 

He folded the letter up, folded it up again and tucked it in his back pocket. He shoved the envelope in his bag, and tossed the bag on his bed. He winced when he remembered his laptop was in it and hoped it wouldn’t slide to the ground. 

It didn’t. 

“Hold on! I just gotta grab my—“ 

“Rans! When’d you get home? I didn’t even hear you.” Holster stood in the entryway of Ransom’s door with a controller in one of his hands, glasses on his face, an old Samwell shirt stretching across his shoulders and a smile on his face at seeing his best friend. 

Holster’s voice was deep. And loud. But he couldn’t deny that he always greeted someone with exuberance and care. It settled that pit in Ransom’s stomach somewhat. 

He grinned back at him, pushing the letter, the anxiety, the fear and everything else into the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think about yet another thing that would stress him out. 

“Yeah bro, I snuck in while Shitty kicked your ass at Mario Kart,” he said, laughing as he shrugged his coat off. He threw it over his chair and rubbed his hand over his chin. 

Holster scoffed before moving into the room and setting the controller down on Ransom’s shelf by the door. “Bro, it was Smash Bros and he wasn’t kicking my ass...Nursey was.”

Derek Nurse had moved in when everything shut down. His moms wanted him and his sister to stay with someone that wasn’t going to be around patients everyday or be in a hot spot. 

He had felt guilty about leaving his moms by themselves, happy that he was with friends and closer to Dex, and annoyed at his graduate program. He also ended up being one of the biggest sources of comfort for Ransom these past few months. 

Ransom barked out a laugh and shoved Holster’s shoulder, “Bro...you suck.”

“Bro! No, I don’t, what the hell, I beat you.”

“Oh I totally let you win, bro; I had to because you kept whining and crying,” Ransom said good naturedly. Holster was ridiculously competitive and yet ridiculously bad at video games. And the board game moratorium from Haus 1.0 in college extended here. Five years later and Holster still threw a fit if he lost at Catan, evidenced by the one time Lardo allowed them to play before rebanning it. 

Holster rolled his eyes and huffed, grumbling about cheating best friends and stupid video games before he took a seat on the bed. Another Wednesday.

Ransom saw Holster lay down and waited for the question that would inevitably follow. It was his first time doing a grocery run since early March before everything shut down. Cases were falling more and more each day; people doing their part to stay home and the government ensuring that those who couldn’t were taken care of properly. But seeing more than the familiar and comforting faces of the Haus was nerve wracking and gave him the same squeeze in his stomach as a final exam did. 

“So, how’d you feel being outside for the first time?”

Holster and Lardo were the first ones who went out on a grocery run. Shitty went to catch Black Widow with Nursey because “Brah, the cases in Boston are in the tens and I wanna see some fucking girl power.” and Nursey was the only one willing to try it. Both negative. 

Ransom wasn’t feeling that confident in his luck and had been patient. A vaccine was allegedly around the corner. Jack was feeling the same according to a Bitty suffering from Cabin Fever. That boy was suffering so much he was going on daily jogs, masked up and all. 

“It went alright. I didn’t end up reefing under the table of apples.” He replied, getting a snort in return. He sat down in his chair, pretending he didn’t feel the crinkle of the acceptance letter to John Hopkins, like he didn’t feel the guilt wrap around his neck for not being able to help during this crisis, the relief that he didn’t have to. 

“No, yeah, I was fine. I just...don’t like it. There were a lot of people. I don’t know if—” He trailed off biting his lip. His stomach churned again as he wiped his palms on his face. “It's just weird being out,” and he paused again. His tongue sat on the roof of his mouth. Heavy like he had cottonmouth. 

“I got into John Hopkins,” came out suddenly and Ransom felt his stomach settle for a second as he reached in his back pocket before it came back with a force as the letter finally came free. He flicked it into Holster’s shocked face.  

“Rude,” he said, unfolding it, scanning the letter as his lips moved along the words. His expression lit up before he looked over at Ransom.

Holster saw Ransom hunched over with his hands clasped and between his knees as if he could make himself smaller. A face that was always lit up with a smile or chirp or disgust at Holster suggesting a Cheers marathon looking closer to the little boy that was framed in Holster’s room rather than the 26 year old he was. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the bed and curl up.

“Well, dude, this is big. I’m proud of you, bro. You’re clearly not feeling it though.” Holster replied, scooting closer to the end of the bed that was close to the desk. 

Ransom snorted. 

“Bro, talk about the understatement of the century. And that’s saying something ‘cause it’s been shit for, like, all of the century, bro.” Ransom’s hands had found his ears and they started rubbing across them and across his hair. His hair was another new development considering he didn’t want to go out and get a cut. Ransom hadn’t even been able to get proper products for them, and Nursey’s products were way too weak for him. Their hair textures were like the moon and the sun, and Ransom wasn’t sure if he liked the look. At the very least he needed a shape up. 

Ransom’s bedroom wasn’t particularly large, but the distance between the two men felt like there was a canyon between them. The stress of the world reached what all the residents of the Haus considered a safe space, adding stress to relationships and friendships. The distance between them felt vast like the room could stretch forever and no matter how far he reached, Ransom wouldn’t be able to grab Holster. Holster felt distant but also felt the weight of the moment collapse on his shoulders, the room felt smaller than a breadbox. 

Holster sat and looked over at his friend, this was a little different from the coral reef episodes back in college. It felt a little more intense, a little more real. Ransom wasn’t trying to balance out test anxiety and finishing his homework so he could go be a starting defenseman for a game and rage out afterwards for the rest of the night. 

Holster was aware, had been aware for years now, that societal issues were handled differently between the two of them. While Nursey had no qualms about arguing with Dex, with Shitty there to mitigate and watch for anything explosive, Ransom had always stayed out of it. He could hear Nursey ask him before they were captains why Ransom let it all slide and Ransom’s baritone laughing back saying he chooses his battles. 

That summer and the months after had Ransom choosing a lot of important battles and Holster realizing that to care for his friend was to care about those battles as well, deeper than he might’ve otherwise had if he was honest with himself. And Holster was always honest with himself. 

He and Bitty both found themselves in front of Shitty asking for advice and guidance, not wanting to burden and seem ignorant to their teammates who needed support first and questions much, much later.

Holster could see the weight of the virus and his guilt for not being in medicine helping on his shoulders, he could see the anxiety and fear about that video and the anger in feeling powerless to the world weigh heavy on his heart. 

One step at a time, Holtz, he told himself before shifting in the bed. He could hear the springs creak and groan in relief at the weight being lifted. He felt the comforter under his palms as he pushed himself up with a tiny grunt at his weight. 

Holster closed the gap. 

The immeasurable, insurmountable gap. 

He saw Ransom’s head lift and his face scrunch up in confusion. He always looked so cute when he looked lost. 

He sat down on Ransom’s lap and stuck his arm out to grab the desk and prevent the chair from tilting back.

The room was quiet, the tension adding pressure to the moment. Neither of them breathed for a second as Ransom felt Holster’s weight settle over him like a heavy blanket. 

He sighed in relief as the shaking in his hands and fuzziness in his brain subsided, and pressed his head into the side of Holster’s chest under the arm that kept them balanced. 

“Thanks, bro.” He mumbled.

“S’No worries, brah.” Holster replied, taking his arm from behind them and laying it down over Ransom’s shoulders.

“Look, bro, we don’t have to talk about it right now. And we don’t have to tell anyone right now. Just tell me how you want to handle it and we can bust out excel and figure out what you want to do next year,” he said, stroking Ransom’s shoulders. He hesitated. There was more he wanted to say. Ransom looked a little more like himself though. His pretty smile threatened to peek out behind the frown on his face. His eyebrows had relaxed making his chiseled, beautiful face look more calm than overwhelmed. 

Holster wanted to see reassurance, though, and wanted to provide it in a way that he knew he couldn’t about the other topics on his best friend’s mind. 

“I was an idiot back in college saying you needed to go to med school and change the world. That brilliant mind of yours can find a way to help it change in every way imaginable. You don’t need the stupid Blue Jays for that.” 

That got a snort out of Ransom and Holster felt Ransom’s arms wrap around him and squeeze in silent thanks. 

“Bro, does anybody even call them the ‘Blue Jays’ like who says that?” He asked, peeking up from Holster’s chest with a grin. 

There it was. The smile that made his chest feel warm and his stomach twist in excitement. There was his best bro. 

“Bro, I totally know, for a fact, 100% sure that people use that nickname.” He said, matching Ransom’s grins with one of his own. 

“Dude, you are so full of shit, it’s ridiculous.” 

Holster let him have that one. He let the conversation devolve into familiar chirps and wrestling and loud and stupid arguments. 

It had been weeks since Ransom and him had this. The easy back and forth. The familiarity and comfort their stupid conversations gave. 

June 7th:

“I’m just saying, you put a trillion male lions and their packs in spaceship gear and ship them off towards the sun, and they might win.” 

“Bro, One: are they even called packs? And Two: that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Lions can’t fucking beat the sun. They’ll burn the hell up before they get close.” 

“Say they don’t, though. Say they’re able to get really, really close and then they can just pee on it. ‘Cause it’s a trillion male lions and then all the lady lions that’s like...five trillion lions.” 

“Bro, you’re not even high. What is this conversation?” 

“You think Shits has any edibles left?”

Ransom and Holster were lying in Holster’s bed with the ceiling fan up high and their joint Spotify playlist going in the background. 

Ransom had wanted to relax after a late night trip to the movies. They had taken the whole Haus and reserved a theater with Jack and Bitty to watch something and finally see each other after three months. 

Holding Jack and Bits in his arms again after so long made a knot in his chest disappear. They couldn’t go out afterwards but having Jack and Bits in his room with the promise of a breakfast spread made him feel closer to normal than he had in months. 

He almost went to the couch before Holster scoffed, insulted, and offered his room and bed. 

It wasn’t new. The Haus ghosts sent Ransom into Holster’s bed more times than he could remember and post kegsters had them laid out on the couch more often than not, much to Bitty’s chagrin, but it had been a few years since that. 

He found that he missed it. 

Holster was naturally handsy and liked being close to whoever he was around and the intimacy of the bedroom had increased those natural instincts. 

They sat against the wall, Holster’s arm around Ransom’s shoulders and their heads gently leaning towards each other, like magnets. Ransom’s left leg and Holster’s right one crossed. The comforter pushed towards the foot of the bed. Holster had strung up small fairy lights across his room. It was a dull color in the room...dimmed...warm. 

Ransom could feel his mind drift into a relaxed state, not quite sleeping, not quite awake as Holster’s deep voice sounded distant, like he was underwater. 

“Bro, are you sleeping on me? I’m about to take a Haus poll, I’m telling you the lion theory is sound.” 

Holster made like he was getting up, it wasn’t quite late enough to where he couldn’t justify asking the question to the others but Ransom was too comfortable. 

His hand flashed to Holster’s knee and pressed down, “Don’t get up. You and your dumbass argument isn’t going to win anyways.” His head found its place on Holster’s shoulder and he left his hand where it was after Holster relaxed back into position. 

Ransom was tired but he was also more relaxed than he felt in a week. 

Shitty’s voice echoed in his brain about the joy he felt in his job, on how the pains of law school made it worth it, how he couldn’t see himself doing anything different. 

Med school would take moments like these away from him for a few years. Being a doctor would take away more of these moments. He didn’t feel what Shitty felt towards law school. The passion wasn’t there. The grit wasn’t in him anymore for another five or more years of constant schooling. 

But it was expected for him as an adult to do it anyway, to not waste his potential. You get a job and you only see your friends once a month and you settle down and get married and live in a too expensive house and you and your partner shoulder the burden of parenthood, adulting, personal development, health, finances...everything, by yourself and pray you don’t break. 

Ransom couldn’t prioritize his happiness over what he was supposed to do. He was an adult. He was twenty seven and not even in a committed—

“Yo, what’s up?” 

Holster’s voice made Ransom flinch out of his thoughts, it was small but it was there and he could tell by the way Holster pulled him closer that it was noticed. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“You ever think about how we’re in the same house we’ve been in since we graduated and, like, none of us are anywhere close to getting married and getting a house for ourselves or having kids or getting started on our lives?” Ransom rushed out, the more he thought about it the more oppressive it felt. The more disappointed he was in himself. 

More than any virus or government, Ransom’s most prominent struggles were always going to come from within. 

“Bro, I started living my life when I got to Samwell. When I started playing with you and met you and Jack and Shits and Bits. It started when I started making choices for myself that were for me, ya know? Outside of juniors. Outside of Buffalo. Just for my happiness.” Holster said, moving slightly to have Ransom resting against his chest, his arm wrapped around Ransom’s torso with ease, providing a heavy weight for him. 

Ransom could feel his voice vibrate through his back and he tucked himself in closer, Holster’s arm clutching a little tighter as a result. 

“Bro...I don’t know how else to say it, but I can’t imagine my life being different. Fuck those expectations. You can’t tell me it’s not amazing having our closest friends here everyday? Having Bitty and Jack an hour away and having them spend weekends here in the summer? Or down at their beach house in the summer. I even love that Nursey’s here more,” he paused, brow furrowing a bit as he chewed on his next thought, “We have to get the others closer but yeah bruh, this is ‘swaesome. We can be happy and not focus on doing things by ourselves, and sure, if Lardo and Shits want kids and their own place that’s all them, but it doesn’t mean we just leave them to do it alone, right? Eh?” he chirped, Ransom barely resisted rolling his eyes at the Canadianism Holster just butchered, mostly because it felt like Holster reached right into Ransom’s fears and scattered them like ashes in the wind. 

Holster shifted a bit to look into Ransom’s eyes and Ransom looked up at him, eyes focused on both Holster and past him, thinking on what he said. Ransom couldn’t see himself letting him be this vulnerable, this intimate, this close with someone else. Not even April felt this safe for him. 

Ransom felt his brain short circuit a bit as Holster shifted back against the wall, Ransom still pressed against his chest. 

‘That’s odd,’ He thought.  

It was a feeling that stuck in his chest even as Holster hit the lights and pulled them down into the bed. Spooning wasn’t something new for them but as Holster tucked Ransom against his chest Ransom couldn’t help but feel different about the whole act. Before he could think on it further, he heard Holster humming some melody and sleep found him. 

June 8th: 

Ransom looked up at him in the bathroom mirror, he could feel his pulse roaring in his ears and his eyes looked panicked as he stared back at himself. 

Holster had come up behind him while Jack and Bitty were chirping each other in the kitchen, had whispered some joke about the two of them being so “fine worthy”, his breath ghosting over the shell of his ear, his body heat felt from Holster leaning down into Ransom, just slightly and Ransom’s body flushed with heat and he could feel his pulse start racing. It was exactly like when April would say just the right thing after a glass of wine or a bite of some rich dessert or after Ransom had a tense day and she was rubbing his shoulders. Intimacy and arousal mixing together, short circuiting his brain.  

He froze, his brain scrambling on how to proceed. There wasn’t a protocol that made sense in his mind. 

He huffed out a breath and Holster apparently took that as an agreement and moving past Ransom, his fingers sliding across his shoulder blades while he did, yelled out “FOINE!!” with Bitty clamoring about how unfair it was. 

Ransom took his exit and locked himself in the half bathroom, where he now found himself trying age-old tricks from high school to calm his erection down. Flexing his calves and raising himself on his tiptoes while he took deep breaths. 

‘Okay, that was weird. What the fuck?’ He thought as his eyes flitted around the bathroom. 

Ransom was bisexual, he knew that. He preferred women as a general rule but his attraction to people wasn’t limited. He loved people, he loved sex, he loved intimacy. He knew this. Him and Holster had slept in the same bed dozens of times, they had seen each other naked more times than he could count, they had wrestled in just their boxers once...it was fine, bros comfortable being bros. That never happened before. 

He sat on top of the toilet, he could hear the start of Holster and his pre-kegster playlist. No doubt Bitty and him wanted to get day drunk and party. It had been a long time, a stressful time, a lonely time since March. Even Jack seemed excited when Holster pulled out the itinerary for the weekend. 

It was easy to see Holster how he did all of college. Loud and boisterous. Rude and melodramatic. Considerate and kind. Always kind even when he was putting his foot in his mouth. 

Thinking of that had Ransom thinking about the time he actually put his foot in his mouth, Bitty and Nursey egging him on. Disgusting.

His heart fluttered at the image, very unsexy, very stupid, goofy, and very Holster. 

The past few months put their friendship into a new perspective, it was tested, even strained a bit. 

Ransom’s mind was flitting through all of the interactions they had in the past three months, his eyes staring into the lights over the mirror, his neck craned as he rested his head on his hands, his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the floor. 

Holster, who loved him so much he let him go, respected his boundaries, who helped him with his anxiety like usual, the intensity much more severe. 

He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. Hand scratching at his face. 

“Okay, you have a crush on your best friend,” he said to himself, eyes intent but the words felt wrong, insufficient. 

“Okay, you love your best friend,” he tried testing that out, paying attention to his body, that ghost in his chest. 

Better, but not quite.

“You are an extremely dramatic asshole, you know that,” he muttered to himself before looking back, “Fine, you are in love with your best friend. Probably have been for years, just didn’t know it,” he said quietly, looking into the sink but pleased with how right that felt within. How true the statement was. 

He startled when he heard a knock at the door, “Euh, I just wanted to wash my hands, Bittle was trying to do something in the kitchen and-” Ransom opened the door to Jack standing there, hands red and probably sticky. 

“Yeah, a mess and Shitty and Nursey and Holster are crowding the sink,” that last bit was stretched as he was surprised by Ransom pulling him into the bathroom and shutting the door. 

Ransom’s flushed, though that showed in an embarrassed looking grin, he felt the heat in his cheekbones though and he straightened up a bit, “Sorry but I needed to talk and for privacy and I’m kinda freaking out you know and why aren’t you washing your hands yet?” He let out a breath and moved past Jack to sit back on the toilet. 

Jack for his part just quietly washed his hands, scrubbing hard, then washing again , then thoroughly rinsing them and drying them off. 

It took about a minute and Ransom was grateful for the moment to catch his breath. 

He noticed Jack turning and leaning against the door, he knew it would keep someone like Shitty or Holster from bursting in and Ransom was grateful for it. 

Jack and him rarely had serious conversations, their friendship was supported by mutual love and understanding, they didn’t talk about their anxiety together, they talked about golf or their shared love for old music and exchanging recommendations, it was perfect. 

But this was one of those rare occasions. 

“So, like, I’ve heard the story of you and Bits like a dozen times. I’m sure we’ll hear it again next summer during the wedding,” at that Jack gave a fond snort. Bitty and him...and Shitty loved telling the story to anyone who would listen, “but, how’d you know that it wouldn’t change anything between y’all or feel confident that y’all wouldn’t break up or just mess the friendship up completely?” 

Ransom had sat back against the toiler, arms crossed, brows furrowed as he thought about his problem. 

Jack had mimicked Ransom, crossing his arms with one hand rubbing his chin. He hummed a bit. 

“I knew with Bittle there would be...complications,” he started, his voice sounding like he was choosing his words carefully, likely to avoid triggering Ransom. “But, I also knew how it failed between me and Kenny. I knew why it never would’ve turned into anything serious with Camilla or Samanatha. I also, in some ways, was tired of not letting myself accept the good things life was going my way,” he looked at Ransom in his eyes, this was the main topic whenever they did have a real talk, something they both worked hard and were constantly working hard to accept. 

They both deserved everything nice they could get. 

Jack continued, “And you know, I was worried but I knew how I wanted to express my boundaries. I knew what I wanted and what I was willing to do to keep it. And Bittle was more mature than I thought, probably more mature than I was. He was really good at keeping us on a good track during those first few months. And I was good at helping him remember to ask for help and to trust me and that we’re a team. It worked, and it continues to work because we like and enjoy learning and growing together and individually,” he paused here, gathering his thoughts. “I can’t imagine a life without Bittle. In any capacity. Like you and Holster, eh?” 

Ransom’s whole body gave him away, as if it wasn’t obvious beforehand, as he sat forward. He looked at Jack’s face and saw it was soft and welcoming. 

Ransom sighed. Jack wouldn’t tease him that much, not at first. Not until he saw Ransom relax about the idea. 

Ransom loved his best friend. He has since they first met that hasn’t changed except his mind providing images of him and Holster kissing. Him and Holster eating out like usual but with a different purpose in the atmosphere. Holster groaning under him. Him groaning under Holster. 

It had been years since he last hooked up with a guy, the idea of doing that with Holster was both nerve wracking and exhilarating. 

He sighed and looked over at Jack who was patiently watching him, waiting for an answer. “Yeah. yeah, I guess like me and Holster,” he said. 

His mind didn’t fold in on itself. His adrenaline wasn’t coursing through his veins. Ransom felt more stable than he had in six months. He looked up as Jack approached him. It only took a step, the bathroom was so small, and then Jack’s arms were around him and his chin over Ransom’s shoulder. 

“Thanks for telling me,” was all Ransom heard as his arms wound their way around Jack’s torso and crushed him against his chest. 

Whenever Jack and Ransom chose to dip into more serious and intimate conversations, they always spoke each other’s language with fluency. To Ransom, the hug was everything he had been missing over the past few months from his friend. Comfort and security steadfastly held in between Jack’s rather large arms and love expressed so openly through his hand rubbing Ransom’s back. 

It said the same thing Ransom has heard since he was eighteen, “I got your back.” 

Ransom straightened up and held Jack’s arms in his hands and gave him a shy smile, tender in its uncertainty, and said, “Thanks Jack.” 

Ransom knew that Jack would know it was a thank you for one of those perfect hugs, a thank you for letting him process, a thank you for being a good friend. Jack just squeezed Ransom’s forearms and said, “Anytime, bud.” 

Jack moved back towards the door, “I think Holster needs your help planning a party. Bits, said something about you guys having plans to dance to a wap? I don’t know what that means but…” his voice trailing off as he shrugged. 

Ransom moved past him laughing, “Oh just keep an eye out for Bits when that song comes on, you really won’t want to miss it,” squeezing his body out of the door with Jack behind him. 

Later that afternoon: 

Ransom walked into the living room and saw a day-drunk Holster and Bitty throwing peanut M&Ms into each other's mouths. He grinned as he watched them giggle as they missed more than they landed. He’ll make Holster vacuum later but it was nice to see his friends be able to relax like this. 

Their laughter was only drowned out by the laughter from the rest of the Haus. They were high in the backyard, incense smoke wafting through the air as some joke Shitty made carried Lardo and Nursey’s giggles into the kitchen. They were all clearly high, Jack most likely through second hand, but that same feeling of contentment and joy fluttered through his system as he saw Jack quietly giggle and lean into Shitty. 

Shitty looked relaxed for the first time in months too, easily holding Jack’s weight up against his naked body as Lardo rested her head on one of his thighs. 

Nursey, the only one standing, gave Ransom a nod and grin, his eyes watery and red as he approached the back door sliding the screen back and stepping inside. “Bro, we partying tonight or…” He asked, voice trailing off but clearly hoping for an affirmative. 

Ransom stepped closer and into the kitchen grabbing some glasses from the cabinet and filling them with water, he turned to Nursey and said, “Totally bro. It’s only one, so I say we get everyone some naps and do something later tonight.” 

Nursey nodded, biting his lip as he contemplated his next thought. Ransom snorted in his head, Nursey’s face when he wanted to ask something but didn’t want to make someone uncomfortable was adorable. Ransom almost wanted to ruffle his Frog’s hair, like an older brother to a younger one. 

He held both glasses in his hands as he turned to Nursey, “Out with it, dude. What do you want?” 

Nursey giggled at that, stopped to try and steel his face and giggled again. “Oh screw you, Ransom. You don’t know that I was going to ask you anything,” he said, breath coming in small gasps. There wasn’t anything particularly funny but Nursey was a giggly drunk and was giggly whilst high, too. 

Ransom grinned and handed the glass to Nursey who took a deep gulp from it. Nursey let out a large sigh and chugged the rest, handing the glass back to Ransom who then refilled it. He was patiently waiting for Nursey to come out with it. 

He didn’t have to wait for too long. 

“Can Dex and Chowder come over? They’ve been stuck inside for weeks at their place and Caitlyn is with her family this week and Chowder’s going mad, it’s like mad unchill. They’re both negative as of yesterday and haven’t like...gone anywhere.” Nursey said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He knew Ransom was the most anxious about getting sick, but Dex and Chowder were his Frogs too. He missed them terribly and...everyone was rather safe and clean up to this point. 

Ransom put the glasses down and gripped Nursey’s shoulders, “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, just say that,” in lieu of saying it was okay, he assumed Nursey asked the rest and there’s no way Holster or Bitty would say no. He was excited, “I would love to have Chowder and Dex come by and stay with us.” 

Nursey grinned and shrugged, throwing off Ransom’s hands and stepping in to pull Ransom in with the crook of his elbow, “Handling my business with my hand gets a little stale and so does Skype sex so yeah I’m excited,” he said into Ransom’s ear, laughing as Ransom threw him off. 

Ransom stood straight with a smile, “Deets after you get your dick wet, you know the rules.” 

“And when are you getting your dick wet bro? Even before the shutdown it had been months since you got laid,” Nursey chirped back. 

Ransom shrugged, “Yeah, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” 

He glanced over his shoulder where Holster and Bitty had taken to leaning against one another, watching a video on Youtube. Catching on pop culture like usual. 

He turned back to Nursey frowning as he looked back and forth between where Holster and Bitty were sitting and back to Ransom and then back and forth again before his face split open like a Cheshire cat. 

Before Nursey could chirp him or say something tactless, Ransom pulled them into the dining room. 

He placed a hand over Nursey’s mouth and whispered, “No, we haven’t fucked. I haven’t even talked to him about it and it’s very new for me so don’t say anything.”

Nursey rolled his eyes and pulled Ransom’s hand off his mouth. 

“Bro, I know I’m high but I’m not an idiot. That’s exciting though, surprising it took so long for you though.”

Ransom nodded, “So like…” he paused to try and figure out the wording, “Is it weird dating a white boy?” 

At that Nursey did let out a laugh, a big one. Though this one seemed more controlled than his cannabis influenced giggles. 

Nursey shrugged, “I get why you would hesitate right now but one, Holster is one of a very few selection of good people, period. He’s always been good to you and probably always will be. And two, you know your heart, you know that relationship would be nothing but good. Dex only really speaks to his mom and brother on holidays since he came out. And he doesn’t speak to anyone else at all. I’m insulated from whatever bullshit they have to say and he protects me with a single mindedness that’s very endearing,” Nursey paused to consider his words. 

It was a tough thing for them to come to grips with, society having something to say about who they were and what they did and who they did it with. But Nursey was done playing that game and he knew Ransom was too, “Holster’s family adores you, he wouldn’t shut up about it back at school. I half thought your jersey’s name was gonna be changed to ‘Birkholtz’ with how often his mom called and sent care packages. But they’ll be chill. And if your family is anything like mine, they’re going to chirp you. Holster is the whitest of white boys. Like, dude eats boiled eggs. But they already know you’re bi. They’ll love and support you guys no problem, it’s chill,” he finished, nodding like he was giving himself a pat on the back. 

Ransom felt tears gather in his eyes. He felt the love from his friends, his family, over the past thirty-six hours more poignantly than he had all spring. The air was charged with the weight of their need for each other. The desire to show support and love after being so far away. Even amongst the Haus...with Jack and Bitty here it felt like a family reunion, he never wanted to leave that space. 

It wasn’t like Samwell, their family had the weight of adulthood and responsibilities and stress and they chose each other anyways, without fail. It was better than Samwell. Ransom had almost forgotten, he couldn’t wait for Dex and Chowder to get here. 

He threw his arms around Nursey and said, “Thanks bro, bring our boys home,” before he stepped back, smiling wide. 

Nursey nodded and wiped his eyes too, pulling his phone out to text Dex and Chowder as Ransom stepped back into the kitchen to grab the glasses and walk to Holster and Bitty. 

He leaned down over the couch and wrapped Bitty in a hug. It was an affectionate day in the Haus, and placed a glass in his hand before leaning over to pass the other to Holster. 

He watched them chug it down.

 “Thank you, hon,” Bitty said, placing the now empty glass on the coffee table, “I was starting to get a bit parched.” 

Ransom ruffled his hair as Bitty squawked, offended. He looked tired, and he looked over and so did Holster, who had also drained his glass and his eyes were glazed in exhaustion. 

He reached out for Holster’s hands and started tugging, “Nap time boys, if we want to party tonight. Chowder and Dex are coming by tonight,” he said, choosing to walk around the couch to try and get a better angle to get Holster up. 

Bitty squealed with delight, “Oh I cannot wait! I haven’t baked with Dex in months and Facetiming with Chowder is just not the same as seeing him. I’m gonna grab Jack so we can hit the hay for a bit,” he said, standing up and stretching before smacking Holster on the thigh, startling him into sitting up. 

Ransom nodded his thanks to Bitty as he walked off to grab Jack from the backyard and turned to Holster. 

Holster pouted.

“Ranyspoo, I don’t wanna get up,” he leaned deeper into the couch and tugged Ransom with him. 

Ransom landed with his knees caging Holster’s thighs and Holster’s arms around his waist and his head resting on Ransom’s chest. 

Ransom sighed as his heart pounded in excitement and his stomach churned up in nerves. This was so them but he wanted that to mean something more. And he was going to tell him. After Holster got a nap and sobered up. 

Ransom stood back up, using the momentum to pull Holster up into a sitting position, “Let’s go lay down,” he said and Holster groaned at the thought of moving. 

Ransom grinned and dove in before grabbing Holster round the waist and yanking him up. They stumbled a bit, Holster had shed some weight and muscle post college but he was still taller and heavier than Ransom. Ransom leaned down a bit and tapped Holster’s thighs, “jump,” was all he said before he had his armfuls full of a sleepy, tipsy, giant. 

Holster’s breath tickled his ear for the second time that day as he murmured, “Can we cuddle too?” 

Ransom snorted as he walked them into Holster’s room.

 “Whatever you want, bro,” before shutting the door behind them and laying them down in the bed. 

10:00 that night:

Bits and Ransom had just finished their 5th grind session to whatever song he and Holster queued up for the night. The night was electrifying. Minutes and minutes flew by as Ransom danced with Dex, Chowder, and Nursey. Even him and Jack danced together. 

Kegsters with the team were always different. Sometimes there were themes and other times the music was more subdued or they had video game tournaments. Tonight, as Holster declared, was all about love and friendship and getting plastered. The typical level of corniness expected from him. 

Bitty had made some mini pies earlier after his nap. Some meaning about four to five dozen. There were also cookies and some kind of tarts. And a shit ton of chips and booze. They hadn’t gotten this intense about a party since Jack won his third cup in 2019. Back to back championships made their 2016 party look like a small get together. 

This party wasn’t nearly that intense but it was more than they had done in two years, they also hadn’t ever been restricted like this. It was still tight. A few frogs were missing. Half the Falconers that Jack was tight with weren’t there but this night was more than enough for Ransom. They had hit their limit for safe gatherings anyways.

Ransom took a survey of the room, The Frogs were discussing something that looked pretty serious. Though that might just be Dex's face. Everyone else was playing shot roulette instead of Holster who was fiddling with his phone. 

He had changed from a sweatshirt to a tank top that Ransom was pretty sure was his. His face was dimly illuminated by his phone and the strobes that were strategically placed around the dark room. He idly scratched at his ear before he took a swig from whatever was in his cup, never slowing from looking at what was on his phone. 

Ransom walked up to him and threw his arm around the taller man. 

“Thought Bits was supposed to be the one who couldn’t put the phone down,” He said, lightly chirping Holster for not being “connected” with the rest of them, as Shitty liked to say. 

He heard Holster snort before clicking the phone shut. 

Holster leaned in closer and grinned, “Sorry, I’m a little distracted,” he said. 

“By?” Ransom responded. 

Holster’s fingers traced the rim of his red solo cup, his face was scrunched up a bit. His brows furrowed. 

“Just something The Frogs brought up, nothing important. Wanna join them?” He asked, half turning his body to pull them towards the table with the others. 

Ransom held firm. 

“I’m good right here,” He responded, double meaning edged in his words. 

Holste’s eyes seemed like they caught it, he always caught the general gist of what Ransom tried to say, his brows furrowed as the words sunk in. 

“Don’t stop yourself from doing anything for me or anyone else, bro,” Holster said, voice steady but he couldn’t meet Ransom’s eyes. 

Ransom leaned in, even closer, and said, “Nah, I’m not doing anything for anyone but me,” and as soon as he said he realized how true that statement was. How right it felt to be certain in this. He could almost imagine himself ripping up and burning his acceptance letter, a bit dramatic but the thought was exhilarating. 

He could feel his nerves firing off in excitement, adrenaline pumping in his bloodstream as he felt good about a decision he made for the first time in years, since he chose Samwell over Harvard. He hated the new start up he and Holster worked at but he could find something else. Anything he wanted. 

Holster blinked. His face went through a series of emotions before he settled on something reserved, biting his lip. 

“What is…” He stopped, he looked down, craning his neck from how close Ransom had gotten to look in his eyes, and said “What are we doing here?” 

Ransom’s anxiety creeped up, like it would’ve no matter how the conversation went, no matter what Holster said in response. But he wanted this, he wanted his life to be his and to find joy in his friends, this family he created. He wanted to be okay with leaving a job for something better, something less stressful. There was a lot Ransom wanted. A lot he was going to fight for. 

But nothing more than this. 

“Tell me if I’m getting it wrong, Adam,” He said, capturing Holster’s mouth with his. 

He felt Holster kissing back immediately. In it he could remember every time he and Holster cuddled, from ghosts to roadies to after kegster crashes. It was the love felt every time Holster led him out of anxiety induced breakdown over exams or the future. It was Holster’s laugh watching some dumb sitcom that was older than them. It was their synchronization on the ice. The clash of them as they hugged for a celly or worked to steal the puck back from the opposing team. It was quiet nights as they talked about nothing or argued about some ridiculous hypothetical. 

It was the love they expressed last night as they cuddled and fell asleep together. Blissful and content. 

It was also attracting attention.

He heard Shitty’s wolf whistle and Nursey’s hooting. He’s pretty sure Lardo yelled out “FINE!” 

Ransom pulled back from Holster, who looked thoroughly kissed out. 

“Downstairs?” He asked. 

Holster nodded, “I’ve eaten like a lot tonight so I don’t know if…” his voice trailed off as his face started burning bright. 

Ransom threw his head back in a quick laugh before shrugging, that could wait. 

“There’s plenty of other things I wanna do to you, let’s go before they start cock blocking,” He said, pulling Holster to the stairs before catching Nursey’s eyes. 

He gave him a wink and turned the other way to see Jack looking smug but happy for him. Bitty giving him a thumbs up. 

“As you were gentlemen, I’m getting dicked tonight!” Holster yelled, receiving a chorus of “FINES!!” in return. 

Ransom turned his head over the shoulder as they started downstairs, “What if I wanted to get dicked down?” 

He meant it as a joke and was surprised when Holster pressed him against the wall, hands on his ass, kissing him fiercely. 

“We’ll just have to take turns,” was all Holster said before turning his attention to Ransom’s neck. 

Ransom reluctantly pushed him off, “Bedroom. Bedroom, now,” was all he said, rushing after Holster and slamming his bedroom door shut. 

June 9th:  

Ransom woke up with sheets tangled around his legs and a massive presence on his chest. Blond hair tickled at his mouth and the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the stillness of the room. 

There weren’t windows in the basement so he couldn’t determine the time but it wasn’t too late last night when they went to bed. Or at least, when they came down to the room. He could feel his cheeks warming as he unconsciously started grinning. Last night had been perfect for Ransom. The dam finally broke on all he felt, nervous after a horrible drunk make out session their freshmen year. 

He felt Holster stirring beneath him, felt his mouth stretching open and heard his yawn as he started waking up. Ransom felt a kiss at his pec before Holster turned his face to look up at Ransom. 

“Morning,” Holster said, with a lazy grin stretched over his face. 

Ransom immediately stretched his neck back, pushing Holster’s face away with his hand.

“Bro, morning breath. Hush,” he said, stretching his back as much as he could with Holster laying on him. 

Holster groaned, “Oh come on, we just fucked last night and you said you loved me like five times, you can deal with some morning breath.” 

Ransom pushed himself further up the bed to lean against the headboards and felt Holster lay his head back against his chest, face turned towards the nightstand. 

His hand reached down, combing through his hand and traveling further to stroke his cheek. He felt his fingers hook around his chin, thumb tracing along his jawline. His hand traveled further, down his neck and started moving back and forth across the expanse of his broad shoulders. 

He heard a huff as Holster nestled in closer, his arms tightening around Ransom’s waist. 

“I mean, I do love you bro but I’m not kissing you with dragon breath,” Ransom felt himself saying as he wiped across his eyes. It wasn’t the first time they woke up next to each other but it was the first time he felt subconscious about it. 

He saw Holster’s head turn up towards him, lips split open into a grin. 

“No, don’t you da-” 

Ransom’s protest was lost to Holster clamoring up and kissing him on the mouth. 

He groaned into it, and pushed him back. 

Holster was looking entirely too satisfied with himself, “You’re so annoying,” Ransom said without rancor.

Holster huffed out a laugh as he sat up and swung his rather long legs over the edge of the bed. 

“No time like the present to interrupt Jack and Bitty’s morning sex so he can make us breakfast,” Holster said, standing up and reaching towards the ceiling. 

Ransom appreciated the view before he lumbered out of bed, grabbing a fresh pair of briefs and a towel. 

“Before you make an ass out of yourself...brush our teeth and jerk each other off in the shower?” 

Holster’s grin turned, a devilish grin on his face. 

“You always did speak my language, Ransypoo.” 

June 9th (a few hours later): 

Ransom sat across from Nursey in the living room, legs planted firmly on the ground, eyebrow twitching as Nursey hurled vitriol to the closest thing to Ransom’s heart. 

“Bro,” Nursey always had a way of making your argument seem more stupid than it was, fucking English majors, “Those burgers suck. They’re overcooked and not seasoned. I know Shitty talks about chains and corporations but that joint does not have better burgers than FiveGuys. I’m not eating that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Nursey and him had this debate once every few weeks.

“I’m not buying it, where’s Jack? He’s paying.” 

Nursey nodded, “Duh, he’s rich, chill, and like the Haus sugar daddy.” 

Dex came in from the kitchen, lemonade in his hands and Chowder on his heels. 

He sat down next to Nursey and threw his feet up in his lap, “Well I already put the order in, should be delivered in like an hour. Fat tip of course, courtesy of Jack.” 

“Babe, chill, how’d you know?” Nursey asked, hands going down from the top of the couch to rest on Dex’s ankles. 

“You guys have the same dumb argument every time, the only person who eats those nasty ass burgers with Ransom is Holster,” He said shrugging and taking a sip from his glass.

Ransom shrugged, “We have good taste.” 

“In everything but burgers of course,” Chowder chimed in from his place on the floor, his head leaning back against the couch. 

Ransom had to change the subject before it devolved into endless chirping, he was sure Bitty and Jack were going to finish up in the kitchen soon and they hated Charlie’s joint more than Nursey. 

“So, what did you guys want to talk about?” He asked. 

Chowder perked up, “Oh, that’s perfect. We already talked to Holster and he’s down.” 

Ransom frowned a bit, Holster hadn’t mentioned anything about The Frogs.

Dex flicked Chowder’s ear, “Slow down dude.” 

He looked back over at Ransom, “So, you know Chowder only wanted a short contract with the NHL”

Ransom nodded. Chowder only played two years with the Sharks, this past season shorter than a regular season, before he retired. He got a nice deal and liked California enough but he and Caitlin liked Boston too much to be gone for long. 

Dex nodded along, seeing where Ransom’s train of thought was at, he was always good at that. 

“So we took some of Chowder’s NHL money, along with a big, hefty investment/donation from Jack and we’re going to create our own video game. It’s enough money to hire a team of coders and Nursey to do the story but we figured maybe you and Holster would want to come on for the marketing or business development crap or whatever. I don’t know, we just want to make something cool but we’ll need help outside of the creative side of it.”

Chowder nodded enthusiastically, “It’ll be a console game, like PS4 and Xbox and stuff and with a good push with marketing and maybe partnerships with a bigger company or just figuring distribution, we could make something really cool. And we know the consulting job is getting boring but maybe working with us might be fun.”

Ransom sat back a bit and looked over at Nursey. He was the only one besides Holster who knew the extent of the guilt he was carrying on his back this whole summer. Guilt that was a constant cross he felt like he had to bear. Guilt that maybe wasn’t his burden to bear. 

Ransom’s mind flashed to living in Baltimore, with Holster, working through med school. Then residency. Then fellowship. A decade before he was capable of doing anything. A decade of stress, unhappiness, anxiety...he could feel his pulse speeding up. There was a lump in his throat. It was a lot to ask of Holster. 

It was a lot to ask of himself. 

His mind supplied images of working with his friends, staying in the Haus, probably buying it in the future, waking up next to someone he loved surrounded by people he loved. More importantly, he felt happy. Choosing his own happiness. Choosing his own path. Choosing to follow his heart, rather than whatever expectations he felt thrust on him. 

He smiled at the three boys across from him, “Let’s do it.” 

They cheered and started talking about details when they wanted to get started, when it was safe of course, the salary details, stuff Ransom can talk about again when his head is back on Earth. 

He met eyes with Nursey again and Nursey small smile matched the grin that made its way onto Ransom’s face. 

The rest of the crew chose to walk in, drawn from all the noise. As The Frogs explained what they were celebrating he felt Holster slide up by his side. 

Holster’s mouth was by his ear and he murmured, “So I take it you’re not a little Blue Jay then?” 

Ransom turned his body to lean closer to Holster as he said back, “Bro, I’m taking that piece of paper and burning it when we go back downstairs.” 

He felt Holster snort against his ear and he asked, “They didn’t say if you were on board or not.” 

Holster nodded back, “I told them I would have to see if it made sense.”

Ransom immediately knew what he meant. He was overwhelmed by the fact that Holster was always planning to be in Ransom’s life, be a rock in his life, and be consistent in his life regardless of whether or not they were together. Regardless of how messy or inconvenient or challenging it might be. 

“You fucking simp,” was all he said, but he could feel his nose twitch and his throat constrict. He was not going to cry. 

“Yeah, you love it,” Holster volleyed back. 

“Yeah, I love you,” Ransom said, grinning as he took Holster’s hand into his own. 

“FINE!” Chorused seven other voices. 

“Oh, fine my ass!” Holster yelled back before leaning in and kissing Ransom. 

And for the first time in months, Ransom felt like he was at home.