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He smiled.
Smiled.
Smiled.
Lost in the deepest lake he’d ever seen, he smiled his warmest smile and reached to the lake, hand that stopped on cold and soft, chapped skin.
The lake blinked. “Whatcha starin at?”
He was still smiling. “You.”
The other spat out a soft laugh, his breath caressed the blond’s lips. “Yeah, I get that, but why?”
“No idea,” his smile widened, “why not? You're pretty.”
“Pretty ugly, yeah—”
The blond’s thumb gently caressed the other’s cheek. “Pretty dumb, actually, to think that you aren't pretty.”
“I don't think pretty is something someone would think looking at me.”
“I do think that.”
“You're dumber than me, pretty bird.”
“See? Why can you say I'm pretty, but I can't?”
“Because,” the other moved on the bed, the grip of his arm wrapped around the blond’s waist tightened, “you are pretty, like, objectively, I'm really not—”
He was interrupted by sudden lips that pressed on his own, soft, gentle lips, so warm and so kind.
So kind.
“You're so pretty, dude,” the blonde was still smiling ear to ear, completely inebriated with some feeling he wasn't scared to understand anymore.
“Don't call me dude, bro, we’re literally cuddling after sex.”
The blonde laughed. “Yeah, so? I’ll call you whatever I want, dear.”
The other was smiling as he rolled his eyes. “Don't start with the pet names—”
“Or what, sweetheart? What are you gonna do, honey?”
“Nothing the police will be able to prove, sugar.”
The blond laughed. “Okay, okay, God, hearing you say something like that feels horrible, actually.”
“It does, doesn't it? Stop then.”
“Mhm,” they kissed again, “yeah, just… just one thing.”
“What?”
The blonde looked away, instantly missing that turquoise lake he’d been looking at.
He moved to kiss the other again. “Can I call you love?”
He was expecting an immediate No, but the other didn't answer.
Then—
“Sure.”
The blond looked back at him. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I like that, love, pretty self explanatory, right?”
Love.
Love.
Love.
“Can you call me that too?”
“Yeah, I can try.”
“Nice, that’s—” he broke off into another smiling face, “that’s really nice.”
“It is, isn't it, love?”
And God, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn't do a complete three sixty, beating in his chest so quickly that the other could probably hear it.
In fact, he definitely could, because he smiled, and repeated the word, with such tenderness, such delicacy, Love, Love, Love, and they were kissing again, completely lost in each other, so drunk, so…
So in love.
They were.
They had always been.
But now, oh, now they were finally ready to say it.
Now they could.
And there wasn't anything that felt better than that.