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If he had to be honest about it, Harry was pretty sure the moment he fell in love with Joe was the moment that they met. Then again, given he’d been talking to the slightly older (okay, over a decade) man over the phone and over the internet for a couple of years now, maybe that wasn’t as honest as he thought.
It made spending time with Joe hell, however, though he tried not to let that come to the forefront as he took another calculated sip of his black coffee, his eyes darting around the cozy, almost aggressively charming, dining room he found himself in. The air in the small, rural shop he had found himself in hung thick with the smell of woodsmoke and simmering maple syrup, almost choking him like he wasn’t wearing casual attire, which he was.
Across from him, Joe, somehow managing to look both rugged and effortlessly stylish, scrolled through his phone, a stray lock of grey hair falling across his forehead. They had arrived in Vermont, via their own respective flights, to film the next episodes of "Tourist vs. Local" this one currently pitting local ice cream establishments against each other. Given Ben and Jerry’s was the king around here, he and Joe practically were living on Lactaids at the moment as they moved through town at a snail’s pace trying to get the shoot done so they could move onto planning for the next.
Harry swore under his breath as he looked over at the latter, cursing how good this lighting made him look. It wasn’t that the Brit didn’t know how to control himself (he knew better than most, but he’s only human), but Christ, Joe looked as edible as the ice cream had been - a pickle to chocolate still on his lip. If Harry could just reach out and quickly wipe it off with his thumb-
“Okay, so, the rooming situation,” Their producer, a perpetually harried woman named Sarah, suddenly appeared out of nowhere like a wild Pokémon and caused him to suddenly rock back in his chair, making Joe glance at him curiously as she continued, currently juggling a walkie-talkie and a half-eaten bagel. “There’s been…an issue.”
Harry and Joe exchanged a wary glance at the statement. Issues weren’t good. Not for high budget productions like their videos usually ended up.
“There was a last minute booking for a wedding that’s here this weekend and the staff accidentally double-booked one of our rooms. So…” Sarah chewed her lip, her eyes flickering between them. “You guys, uh, you’ll have to share a room. Together. Just for the next few days.”
A beat of silence followed, punctured only by the gentle noise of the scattered patrons as they attempted to process the information. Of course, given his current thought train, Harry felt his cheeks flush, a rare and unwelcome occurrence. He glanced at Joe in mild terror, who was staring at Sarah with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief.
“Just one bed, I presume?” Joe asked, his voice smooth and sounding completely unbothered as Harry’s internal crisis went unnoticed.
Sarah nodded, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. “Yeah…one, uh, full-sized king bed. Sorry guys. But hey, think of it as team bonding!”
Harry’s brain short-circuited at the thought. Sharing a bed with Joe? If there already wasn’t heightened tension between them as Harry’s man crush attempted to push itself into the spotlight, this would certainly create some. Oh god, he was already awkward right now and he could only chalk it up to jetlag for so long, this might actually do him in.
Over the following hours, while filming and sampling more ice cream, he tried to ignore the knowledge that they would soon be sharing a small space, and a bed. However, true to form and his mounting anxiety, it lingered in the air over him like a soft cloud. If he had been made of vanilla, he would have appreciated it more, but it wasn’t and all too soon, the could became thick and choking that evening, when they found themselves in their shared room.
It was even smaller than Harry had imagined, dominated by a single, rather cozy-looking bed. Ever the pragmatist, he meticulously arranged his toiletries on the tiny dresser that he had access to, avoiding eye contact with Joe, who was sprawled on one of the two armchairs.
“So,” Joe said, breaking the silence, “this is…cozy.” A grin played on his lips. Harry couldn't help but chuckle despite the fact that his heart was beating out to his chest a hundred miles an hour. “Cozy is one way to put it.”
“Small.”
“Tiny.”
“Crowded.”
“Liliputant.”
That got a laugh out of Joe. “Who the hell says liliputant anymore?”
“I only save my best queen’s English for America.” Harry had smirked back, despite feeling like he was sweating.
They spent the next hour after that conversation engaging in a dance of non-verbal communication. Harry changed into a t-shirt and comfortable boxers, trying not to appear too aware of Joe's every movement. Joe, having taken a shower not long before, was now in a simple grey t-shirt and pajama bottoms, looking unfairly relaxed for this scenario as both of them found themselves staring at the bed.
Where to from here?
“Look,” Joe said, leaning back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as Harry looked over at him. “We can just treat it like a business trip, right? No big deal.”
“Right,” Harry replied, his voice slightly higher than usual as his heart hammered again. “Professional. Business as usual.”
“Exactly that.” Joe agreed. There was still a moment of always shuffling before they managed, but finally, they got into the bed with little resistance, leaving a respectful (and rather awkward) gap between them.
The silence was deafening. Harry found himself hyper-aware of every breath Joe took, the subtle rustle of the sheets, the faint scent of his cologne he hadn’t managed to wash off. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, but his mind was racing. He could feel the heat radiating off Joe’s body, and against his better judgement, he found himself wondering about the texture of his skin, the warmth of his touch.
Fuck, he was in too deep here. He quickly banished the thought, burying his face in his pillow.
“You okay over there, Kersh?” Joe’s voice was a low rumble in the darkness. Harry jumped a little at the sudden sound, but quickly regained his senses.“Fine. Just…thinking about tomorrow, all the travelling and stuff.”
“Right,” Joe chuckled softly. “Me too.”
The silence returned, but this time it felt different, less rigid, more…charged. God, he really needed to sleep. Tomorrow, after all, was another day.
Harry wasn’t sure if he’d stopped yawning or everyone had decided to join him as after last night’s bed fiasco, he didn’t really sleep all that much. Even after having his regular morning brew and a biscuit, he still felt sluggish as they travelled within their selected area of Vermont, willing his body to start fucking working as Joe shoulder bumped him when they got to the next place on their itinerary.
He didn’t focus too much on that action though, as the shoot was a bloody whirlwind when it finally got started. Thankfully, after a bit of cajoling (and a lot of sugar), Harry was back in his element. Only problem now was that he could feel Joe’s gaze on him throughout the day, not just when they had to present on camera, a weight that made his stomach flip.
In return, he found his own gaze wandering, watching Joe, admiring the concentration in his eyes when looking at still shots or how his fingers gripped the cutlery he was using. For half a second, Harry let his mind wander again, a flash of those long fingers going somewhere south, but quickly zapped it out of his memory.
Those thoughts would just continue to plague him for the rest of the shoot however and it seemed most people noticed he had been off his game, including his current bedmate as that night, back in their shared room, the air felt different once again. The awkwardness was still there, it most likely wouldn’t get better, but it was interwoven with something else, something akin to anticipation.
“Hey.” Joe said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, shirt unbuttoned and loose as he did so and making Harry’s brain spin. “You okay? You were a little everywhere today.”
Harry couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch. “I- yeah, I think that the jet lag is still working its way through my system.” Lamest excuse ever. “Thankfully we are wrapping up tomorrow and then I’ll be home the day after, so hopefully I’ll be a bit more alert soon.”
He watched as Joe’s expression fell a little (did he look…disappointed?) but then after a few moments, it rose back up and Joe’s signature smirk returned full force as he chuckled. “Why are you Brits always so excited to return to the miserable cold and grey that is England?”
“New York is almost the same, so I don’t know why you are complaining.” Harry challenged with a smirk, evolving it into a grin as Joe launched into a passionate rant about New York being completely different to London. Thankfully, said rant had branched out into several conversations they had neglected to him, resulting in them talking into the early hours of the night before since again retiring to bed.
This time, however, Harry found himself turning towards Joe, finding that when he did, their faces were just inches apart. He could feel Joe’s breath on his skin, the heat of his body a comforting warmth against his own and they just stared at each other for several minutes without speaking.
“Hi.” Harry finally breached the silence.
“Hi.” Joe’s gravelly voice replied, the tension that Harry had felt around them for so long becoming as fine as a needle and thread as it started to weave a scenario that neither of them were expecting. Harry could have just left it there, turned himself back around and hid his face until he lost consciousness - but he didn’t.
No, instead he reached across the divide between them and tucked himself half sprawled on top of Joe’s body, feeling the other man curl an arm around his back after a moment, his breath against Joe’s neck as he closed his eyes, his hand squeezing Joe’s forearm as the hand attached rested on his side and ribs comfortably. Team building didn’t exactly consist of sleeping tangled together with limbs intertwined and a 15 year age gap, but they were definitely way past that.
Next morning was a little less awkward, but in a different way than the days previous. When before it had been awkward at the mere thought of him and Joe in bed together, Harry found himself craving Joe’s touch, given his stupid mush brain had convinced itself that his crush had been acknowledged from one night of seemingly meaningless cuddling. Thank god he was going home this evening - he needed some serious therapy sessions after this. It seemed however, that Joe wasn’t as pleased, despite everything.
While they continued to act friendly through the pick ups as well as the rest of the shoot, Harry couldn’t help but feel Joe’s eyes on his back the whole time. While yesterday it had been on and off glances, today it felt like Joe was attempting to carve his own name into Harry’s back like he was some grand spruce in a national park. He most likely noticed after last night that he was avoiding him a little (mostly for his own good sanity), but that was no excuse for how he hovered close to Harry. Standing over his shoulder like a sentry on guard. It made his heart thrum, but the pit in his stomach grow wider.
It didn’t close after the cameras wrapped up, or when he said his goodbyes to the crew, or when he dragged his suitcase from the hotel lobby to the Uber after saying goodbye to Joe from his now single room. In fact, it felt more hollow than ever.
“Don’t take too long to come back, okay, dude?” Joe sounded upbeat, but the ‘dude ‘ almost sounded forced, like he had wanted to say something completely different, but had swallowed it down at the last second. Harry just laughed, hiding his real feelings of sadness (he would work through those later at home with a bottle of wine) before quipping back “Only if I get a good host like this time.”
Thankfully, that seemed to lighten Joe up a bit and he laughed, the temporary warmth that it caused crackling through him until he got to the airport and stepped into the terminal in order to get through the security screening and find his gate. Any airport was busy at the best of times and this one was no exception, so it was also most predictable that he reached for his glasses to view his ticket on his phone so he knew where he was going.
What was not so predictable was someone suddenly crashing into him, a pair of hands holding onto his jacket like it was clinging to the side of a boat to stay alive. While Harry’s vision right now may look like a raging sea, it’s not so rough that he can’t see who's in front of him and he makes a noise low in his throat, confusion filling his features. “Joe?”
“Don’t go.” The older man in front of him sounded rough and fuck, if Harry’s brain hadn’t been swirling with a million thoughts at that moment (why is he here? what is he doing?), the wave finally came as Joe’s tone turned to begging. “Please don’t go.”
He knows that it’s a stupid question, but he can’t help himself with the words “Why not?” as they spill from his slightly parted lips. Joe’s hands migrate from his coat to his face and while he can’t really see Joe’s despite how close it is to him, Harry has no doubt Joe is looking directly at him. Mirroring him, Harry is almost startled to feel tear tracks and wetness in Joe’s beard as the world seemingly turns around them.
It’s all the motivation that Harry needs.
Glasses forgotten and suitcase as well, Harry rode the wave all the way down right then and there to Joe’s mouth, crashing their lips together with a force he didn’t know he even had. It most likely looked desperate and obnoxious to most people in the airport who were watching him, but honestly, Harry was fine with drowning. Joe however, seemed that he was also fine with publicly embarrassing himself and moved it so close that it was a wonder they weren’t being detained for public indecency.
He hadn’t wanted to break away, but when he did, it was really only to hastily get his glasses so he could see, really see Joe’s heartbreakingly blue eyes and his face as well as the red painted across his mouth and cheeks that made Harry wonder if it went down the rest of his body. Of course, those thoughts were shuffled to some kind of backburner he had in his shell of a mind as he went back to gripping Joe’s neck and making out with him, full movie scene and all.
That night, that last night in their hotel room (because of course it had become theirs, despite Joe’s name being in the reservation until his flight to JFK which was supposed to be the next morning) was a blur of whispered words, soft touches and even softer kisses. Given their um…activities so far since he was dragged back from the airport (Joe’s knees might not be great, but his mouth still fucking is), Harry supposed that a little sleep was allowed, despite no longer wanting to miss a thing. He still had to go home, that part was obvious, but just for tonight, he pressed his nose into Joe’s chest as he felt the man’s lips part the top locks of his brown hair gently as the darkness swirled around them, finally content.
Next morning saw him awake with the dawn, only mere moments before Joe’s eyes flickered open, the hazy blue meeting Harry’s struggling. brown with a soft smile.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” Harry whispered back.
It’s official, he wanted to see this for the rest of his life.