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“If you were to describe me using the shortest description ever, what would it be?”
There was a long moment of silence, before Andres put his Economics book down and simply replied, “Fun-sized.”
Antonio spit out his drink back into his mug, snorting with laughter, and Juan hid his face in his sketchbook, shoulders shaking with mirth and poorly-concealed laughter. While nowhere to be found, Andres would be sure Ferdinand would immediately jump to José’s defence, but right now José was all he had, and, well. Too bad for him.
The med student’s cheeks flushed red in mortification. “I am not…” he gestured at himself vaguely for a few moments, gathering what little dignity he had left with Andres’s simple, nearly offhanded comment, before settling on the ever-classic, “Fun-sized.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Antonio should really stop laughing. It was getting infectious, and the grin tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t helping. At all. Especially when José was starting to fluff up like an angry little chick.
How adorable, his mind traitorously thought, and he squashed down that tiny little part of his head that harboured the most embarrassing crush ever on a best(ish) friend.
“That’s offensive, Andoy,” José countered, petulant, “Just because I can’t reach the top shelves and you can and—shut up, Tunying.”
Antonio… looked like he was in agony. Pleased agony, but agony nonetheless. He now had his fist bunched in his older brother’s shirt sleeve, and his pharma textbook now served as a gavel base for his fist as he pounded it lightly on the table in his laughter.
“It’s not funny,” José whined, and he sounded absolutely (adorable) hilarious. “Juan, you’re not helping.”
If Marcelo was here, Andres thought, so would he.
Juan, on the other hand, was resolutely keeping his face still, now that he’d calmed down, although Andres honestly thinks he’d transcended being calm, and that face was anything but calm. How did this guy get a girlfriend again?
(Artist. Artists always get girlfriends.)
“Hey, being fun sized isn’t that bad,” Andres spoke up, earning him José’s not-at-all frightening glower. “It just means all the good stuff’s packed into something easier to carry around.”
“That just means you’re calling me tiny.”
“No, I’m calling you cute.”
At that, everyone stopped and stared at him, and Andres realised he’d done something very, very embarrassing. He flushed, and in front of him, José also looked flustered.
Well. That, at least, was new. José usually made people do the flustering.
Antonio and Juan looked at each other, and slowly inched away from where the four of them were sitting in the gazebo. José noticed them start escaping, but before he could even try stopping the Luna brothers, the both of them hightailed it out of there without much second thought. José barely managed to even make a start towards them, when Andres cleared his throat awkwardly to catch his attention.
“S-sorry I said something like that.” He stammered. “It just… blurted out.”
José blinked at him, still blushing, but he shook his head. “I didn’t know this was a pick-up line battle, Andoy.”
“I-I never said it wa—”
“Because if I’m fun-sized and cute, that would make you family-pack and handsome, right?”
Ah, yes. Good old sweet-tongued José. There it was. Andres never really thought about how well he was with smooth-talking, until it was finally directed right at him. No wonder José was a hit with the ladies, Jesus.
Andres didn’t know what to say to that, and while José was still blushing, he had a huge grin on his face. “Cat got your tongue, Andoy?”
“No, I’m just.” He paused, and he didn’t have to think. “I was just thinking about how that would be what you sound like if I shut you up with a kiss.”
At that, José froze, and that truly impressed Andres. He must be setting records.
José scrambled to gather himself together again, and huffed shakily. “W-well, why don’t we try that out then? Give me a kiss.”
Two can play at this game, then.
“Work for it, Pepe, you can’t just have everything.”
The two of them were blushing furiously, and yet neither of them wanted to back down from this unspoken challenge. Neither of them knew how much of all this was even true.
(Somewhere in the distance, the Luna brothers were on Skype with José’s pen-pal Ferdinand, furiously trying to wake him up by not-so-subtly yelling at Juan’s beat-up iPhone, “PEPE IS GETTING A MAN, WHERE YOU AT, BRO?” and failing miserably.)
But—like all good friends, José didn’t back down from Andres’s challenge.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll get it myself.”
He stepped closer, and their heart rates shot through the roof. The two of them stared at each other for what felt like the longest time, and José strained to reach forward, only to have his lips brush Andres’s chin instead.
The two of them let out breaths the didn’t realise, laughing dazedly when—oh, it’s over—ran through their heads, and Andres looked down to notice how close he stood to José, and how sweet and warm the shorter young man was.
And, of course, Andres with the lack of his brain-to-mouth filter, had to ruin the moment.
“Oh, my god, Pepe, are you standing on tiptoes?”
José spluttered, and Andres let out a barking laugh, bending over with his hand on José’s shoulder for support. “Wait,” he wheezed, “That’s—so—”
“I take it back, you’re a huge jerk,” José scowled, and before Andres could do anything, he forcibly pulled him close, and kissed him hard, now that he’d bent down lower, easier to reach. Andres’s eyes flew wide open, and he barely struggled before pulling José into a tight hug, lifting him off his feet as he straightened up properly.
José squealed against his lips, but he laughed it off, parting with him to give him a goofy smile.
“You don’t take that back.” He warmly said, and José’s pout curled into a grin with little difficulty.
“… Of course I don’t.” he replied softly, “But you’re still a jerk.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Andres chuckled, and kissed him again.
“So, Pepe now has a boyfriend. How do you deal?” Antonio asked dryly, peering at Juan’s phone with squinted eyes. “You’re halfway across the world, friends with him for the longest time, but you didn’t put a ring on it.”
“I thought you told me he was a serial ladykiller.”
“Well, yeah,” Juan agreed, “But. He’s also a huge romantic. Pick-up line-off, man. Tiptoe kisses. Can’t get any more romantic than that.”
Ferdinand sighed, exasperated. “I know, I know. Andres beat me to it, though.”
“Also—how do you tiptoe kiss across Skype?”
“You find ways, Tunying.”
“BDO?”
Juan didn’t know whether to smack his brother or not, so instead he sighed, and shook his head.
“BDO.”