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Scott groaned loudly as he stirred from sleep. He rolled over, tugging the blankets around with him, not ready to get up quite yet. The mattress he snuggled into was extremely soft and the sheets smelled like cotton and pine, they smelled like Martyn.
He smiled at the thought of the other man, his crush, contently letting his mind drift off to think about him. Martyn had taken over Scott’s daydreams many times before, but the fantasies were openly welcomed, at least they were when he had the time to live in “la la land” as his roommate often put it. Scott functioned under the belief that there were worse things to fill his mind about.
Wait.
Scott’s eyes flew open as he pushed himself up to the upright position. The blankets fell partly off of him as he frantically glanced around. This wasn’t his room or his bed! Where was he?
Oh.
Some memories from the night before came back to him. Pearl had kicked him out of their apartment so she and Gem could have fun without him there. He had gone out to party, simply for something to do, and he drank more than he probably should have.
Definitely more than he should have, considering the pounding in his head. Scott put a hand to his head as he looked himself over. He was still clothed, but they were a bit disheveled. It could have just been by sleeping or partying too hard, but he’s also seen the sight after a heavy makeout section with past flings at the local clubs.
Scott’s cheeks flushed as he pulled the blankets tight around him. This was Martyn’s room, wasn’t it? Had he and Martyn…. had they kissed? Or even gone beyond kissing? Scott’s throat was sore, though that could be from a number of factors. Fuck, Scott wished he could remember, but it was all hazy. What was he doing at Martyn’s apartment?
He has had a crush on Martyn for a while now, and they would frequently flirt with each other, but Scott wasn’t sure if it meant anything to Martyn. Scott had a reputation of flirting with friends, as did Martyn, so it was difficult to tell when the flirting didn’t mean anything or when it was genuine. Curse him and his charisma.
Scott knew he shouldn’t delude himself for too long, comfortably curled up in his crush’s sheets, but he gave himself some time to properly wake up and try to push away the hangover’s effects before he forced himself out of Martyn’s bed. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finally convinced himself to tug off the blankets and get to his feet.
He wished he had a change of clothes or something to make himself more presentable, but, unless he stole Martyn’s clothes, that wouldn’t be possible. Not that Scott would mind stealing Martyn’s clothes, but Scott wasn’t sure if their relationship was to that level yet.
Running his fingers through his hair a few times to help with the bedhead, Scott made his way towards the bedroom door. The closer he got to the door, the more he woke up and… why did he smell something cooking?
“Good, you’re awake!” Martyn glanced up for only a moment as Scott wandered closer before dropping his attention back to the skillet. He flipped circles of batter over to reveal perfectly golden pancakes. They were absolutely mouthwatering, Scott’s stomach grumbling at the mere sight of them. “I was going to wake you after I finished with the pancakes. Do you mind grabbing the syrup from the fridge? I already set the table.”
Scott nodded slowly before going to do as he was told, stealing several glimpses of the other man as he did so. Martyn wasn’t acting like anything happened and it worried him some. Was he really just overthinking everything?
The thing about syrup is that it was sticky and always got on the container. Scott scrunched his nose as he set down the syrup container on the small kitchen table before spreading out his fingers. The sticky substance got on some of his fingers so he did as any normal person would and licked it off. It wasn’t like there was much of it; it wasn’t that big of a deal.
At least, he didn’t think it was a big deal until he caught Martyn staring at him. Scott hoped the heat of embarrassment he felt came off as flushed cheeks from drinking. “I’m going wash up before breakfast.”
Martyn cleared his throat as he deterred his eyes. “Good idea. I’m almost done and, uh, feel free to borrow something of mine. No offense, but you reek of sweat and alcohol.”
Scott snorted at his bluntly honest statement, pulling his party top to his nose and wrinkling his nose. “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Mind if I use your shower too, pirate?”
“Fine, but be quick.” Martyn waved the plastic spatula at him as if it were an extension of his hand. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t like cold pancakes.”
Scott took the warning seriously, making haste to get clean. Void knows that he took one of the fastest showers he’s ever taken in his whole life. Turning off the water, he wrapped a clean towel around his body before wandering to Martyn’s closet.
Wanting to be quick, as per Martyn’s orders, and casual, Scott nabbed an oversized hoodie and some elastic-waist shorts. If he had to, and if he had the time, Scott would be able to make several fabulous outfits using Martyn’s lacking closet, but he didn’t feel like it and he didn’t have the time.
Besides, he had looked over himself in the shower. There were no marks, no pleasant pain, no indication that he and Martyn did anything. There weren’t even hickies on his neck! Scott was mildly disappointed, but partly relieved. He wanted to remember all the times they spent together, if it were ever to happen outside of their drunken flirting.
Plus, wearing Martyn’s clothes like this allowed Scott to indulge in his own fantasies and delusions. He could imagine that he spent the night with Martyn. He could almost hear himself gushing to his friends about how much of a gentleman Martyn could be, making him food and treating him right. It was easy to imagine that, in response, his friends would nag him about “when’s the wedding?” and “does he have a single sibling, perchance?” Scott bit hard on his lower lip, trying to settle down the aching desire for the man in the next room.
Ha. Like Martyn even wants me. Scott curled his arms around himself. He made that much clear. The flirting is just a game to him.
“Scott? Are ya done in there?” Martyn’s voice called, clear as day. “I heard the water turn off a bit ago.”
“Yeah!” Scott called back. “Just a second!”
Scott brushed off his (Martyn’s) clothes, attempting to get all the wrinkles out, and then ran his fingers through his hair again. It was an anxious habit, and he liked the feeling, so he was constantly fiddling with his or other people’s hair. Once he determined his appearance to be good enough, he hurried out to the breakfast (date) Martyn had so generously prepared.
Putting on his carefree, confident smile, Scott tilted his head as Martyn gawked at him. “I know I’m pretty, but didn’t your mum teach you that staring isn’t nice?”
Martyn clamped his mouth, picked up his fork, and stabbed his stack of pancakes in one fluid motion. “I wasn’t staring. I’m just not used to seeing you in my clothes.”
“You like it?” Scott’s chest burst with warmth at the idea, followed by undeniable yearning. “I can steal your clothes more often if you’d like. They smell like you, ya know. Just like your bed, pine and cotton.”
Martyn’s face was flushed, but he looked almost pained. Scott didn’t like that. Martyn didn’t say anything in response, so Scott continued, “Sorry if I clung to you while we slept. I’m clingy in my sleep. Pearl can attest to that. That’s why she gave me that stuffed wolf for my birthday, actually.”
Scott had expected a response like a laugh and “but you’re always clingy!” or even “you still sleep with plushies?” or something else of the sort, but that wasn’t what Martyn gave him. Instead, Martyn’s tone was much more… grim? “I didn’t sleep with you last night. I slept on the couch.”
“Oh.” Scott went quiet, the tension in the air so uncomfortably thick it was suffocating.
“How much of last night do you even remember?” Martyn inquired before plopping a syrup-soaked piece of pancake into his mouth.
“Not too much,” Scott admitted, not necessarily ashamed, but also not happy about it. Something must have happened and Martyn wasn’t telling him what. “Bits and pieces, but they’re just barely out of reach. I know that Pearl kicked me out, though. She told me to ‘go find some other company or something’ so she could spend the night with Gem. I went out to a few parties, had a few several drinks, and eventually woke up here.”
“You knocked loudly at my door at two in the morning,” Martyn explained dryly, refusing to look Scott in the eyes. “Wouldn’t stop until I opened up.”
“Does this mean you’re mad at me?” Scott asked cautiously.
Martyn didn’t answer right away, leaving Scott in suspense. They made it through their meal and started washing up when Martyn ultimately muttered out a “No, Scott. I’m not mad at you. I would rather you come to me and be safe then out who knows where drunk out of your mind.”
Scott relaxed, but only slightly, as he scrubbed away at their dishes. “Then what’s the problem? Drunk me made good choices.”
“Forget it,” Martyn dismissed with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Scott noticed the circles under his eyes, passively wondering just how much sleep he managed to get on that couch. “I told you you wouldn’t remember. Just, let’s talk about something else. Do you have a ride back to your apartment or do I have to take you?”
“Wait, Martyn, what?” Scott demanded an answer, furrowing his brow and setting the dishes on the drying rack. “Told me I wouldn’t remember what? What happened?”
“Just forget it.” Martyn speed-walked to the front door and snatched his keys. “Go grab your dirty clothes and come on. I’m going to take you back to your place.”
“Did I cross a line or a boundary or something?” Scott continued pushing, panic rising within him. “Please tell me what I did wrong, pir- Martyn! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… I like you too much for that.”
“I’ll grab it then.” Martyn continued to ignore Scott as he went to stuff Scott’s clothes in a plastic bag.
Scott followed after him, hating the feelings Martyn’s perceived rejection fostered. He continued to beg with each plea that spilled from his lips seeming to fall on deaf ears. Finally, as a last ditch effort, Scott reached for Martyn’s arm in an attempt to stop his movement and get them to actually converse instead of Scott talking at Martyn.
Unexpectedly, Martyn’s reflexes kicked in, and suddenly Scott was pinned against the wall with Martyn’s arm pressed firmly against his throat. Scott’s breathing hitched, eyes going wide as he took in Martyn’s fight-ready hold on him. Martyn’s muscles were flexed, displaying definition Scott wanted to roam with his hands. Even unflexed, Scott wanted to memorize every curve and kiss every section of skin.
“If you wanted to pin me against a wall,” Scott flirted breathlessly, voice strained from Martyn’s arm pushed on his vocal cords, “you could have just asked.”
Martyn loosened his grip and let his arm drop as recognition sparked in his eyes. He started to step back with long-winded apologies on his lips when Scott shut him up, snagging his shirt’s collar and pulling Martyn back toward him. Martyn blinked rapidly down at Scott, who was still wearing Martyn’s oversized hoodie.
Scott knew Martyn long enough to recognize when Martyn was restraining himself from something he wanted, and Martyn was looking at Scott like that. His pupils dilating was icing on the cake, leading Scott to the conclusion that Martyn enjoyed seeing Scott in his clothes and that he was feeling rather possessive.
Fuck, did Scott hope it was in a romantic or even sexual away over platonic! Scott wanted to let Martyn mark his claim over his heart with tender touches and hickies and whatever else Martyn wanted. Unfortunately, their relationship wasn’t like that, not when they were both sober.
“Don’t be sorry,” Scott murmured, gaze dropping to Martyn’s lips before flicking back up. “I liked it. Really liked it.”
“You don’t mean that,” Martyn denied half-heartedly, though he sounded doubtful. “You’re still feeling the affects of the alcohol–”
“No, I’m not, Martyn.” Scott softened, reaching up to comb his fingers through Martyn’s blonde locks. Hazy memories from the night before started to clear up, coming back to him with clarity. A sad smile graced his lips as he tugged on Martyn’s hair just enough for him to feel it, but not hard enough to genuinely hurt. Martyn’s actions made more sense now.. “Martyn, I may have been drunk then, but I’m not now, so trust me when I say I like you. More than like, I’m falling for you, pirate. I’m falling in love with you and I would like to take you out on a date, see if this tension between us actually goes someplace, if you would let me.”
Martyn’s lips parted, but nothing came out. He was starstruck, and Scott felt pride in his ability to spark that emotion in others, even if he so desperately wanted Martyn to answer him. Anxiety bubbled within Scott, nerves of baring his soul to his crush getting to him. “Martyn?”
In lieu of the answer Scott seeked, Martyn closed the gap between them, lips slotting into Scott’s as if they were meant to be together like two puzzle pieces in the grand scheme of life. Scott melted into Martyn, eagerly returning the affection with just as much vigor as Martyn gave him.
It was too early to exchange romantic “I love you”s, especially with how carefully Scott tried to guard his heart from getting hurt again, but Scott knew that, deep down, it was true. Sober or drunk, Scott loved Martyn, and he hoped, with time, he would be able to tell Martyn that with his full chest. For now, though, a kiss would have to suffice.