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Terry is lounging on his couch reading when he hears a key turn in the front door lock. He looks at his phone. Too early for it to be Grant unless his date went really poorly so probably one of the twins, bored and wanting to bother someone. Nick isn’t for the formality of a front door. None of his friends technically live with him, but they’re over often enough that they all have keys and Terry’s never surprised to find them hanging out on his couch when he gets home. Grant more so than the rest.
He has gotten close to asking his friend just to move in several times, but always stops himself. It would be weird to ask Grant to move in. It would surely cause problems with his romantic interests, and it’s not like Terry needs Grant around more or anything.
The handle jiggles and the door opens. Terry looks over to figure out which twin it is but is surprised to find it’s Grant.
“Hey,” Terry says, pushing up onto his elbow and looking worriedly at his friend. “I thought you had a date?”
Grant shrugs and pockets his keys. He looks, not sad exactly, but tired maybe? He shakes his way out of his raincoat and hangs it over the nearest kitchen chair. If Grant were home right now they could get another hook by the front door just for him. Terry should have a hook for him already. He’s got a guest one, but that’s usually clogged up by the other guy’s abandoned hoodies and jackets. Nicky’s back up leather jacket has been hanging from the extra hook since the Red Devil Slumber show two weeks ago.
Grant swipes some wet hair out of his face and stretches.
“Was it that bad?” Terry asks. A hope rumbles in his chest that it went poorly, but he douses it. He wants Grant to find someone.
Grant groans and seems to think about it.
“I kinda cancelled last minute,” Grant admits. He looks sheepish. Terry grimaces.
“What happened?”
Grant wanders to Terry’s kitchen and opens the fridge.
“Can I have a beer?” It’s nice that Grant’s asking but anything in his kitchen that’s not labelled in large print letters TERRY’S DON’T TOUCH is fair game.
“‘Course,” he says. “I’ve got those ciders you like in the pantry though.” Grant hums and Terry hears the fridge shut.
“You want something?” Grant asks.
Terry twists so his head is leaning on the back of the couch and he can watch Grant easily navigate his kitchen. It could be their kitchen, the back of his mind supplies. Then Grant wouldn't have to ask for permission to drink. He would already know where his favorite cider is in the pantry.
“Just a beer,” Terry says. He’s already had one that night, just something to make Friday more relaxed as he reads, but he could go for another. Grant nods and Terry watches him find his favorite beer in the fridge and crack it open with the bottle opener. He’s down to his t-shirt, a nice one he was probably planning to wear on his date. He picked it out because it shows off his arms. He’s been working out with Lark since high school and Terry knows his muscles are some of his favorite features. Terry loves the softness overtop. Grant is all soft edges.
Grant comes over to the couch and hands off the beer. Terry takes it and sips. It’s not like he got a particularly good brand but for a budget brand it tastes fine. He turns back to face Grant as his friend sinks onto the couch with a groan.
Grant’s close, Terry can feel the wet heat radiating off him from his walk to the apartment from the parking garage. He smells like the woody Dr. Squatch deodorant he’s been trying out lately in a fit of environmentalism. Terry loves that smell and found himself breathing it in last time Grant left a shirt at his apartment. He doesn’t know how to tell Grant that environmentalism or not he should keep using it. Terry leans a little closer now. He knows he shouldn’t, boundaries and personal space and all that, but Grant doesn’t seem to mind the closeness. Terry takes another drink of his beer.
“So what caused you to cancel?” Terry asks.
Grant scratches his short beard. It’s close cropped, but gives him a scruffy librarian look that Terry wouldn’t have thought wouldn’t look nice on him, but absolutely does. It gives him a quiet adult dignity.
“We were just texting,” Grant says, “and it was just-” he waves a hand off vaguely. Must not have been a very stimulating conversation.
“You’re really striking out with these dating apps,” Terry notes. Grant’s been on and off them for two years but it’s become noticeably less fun for him over the last few months. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on Terry’s part.
“Meh,” Grant says. “I mean the sex is always good but like-” he scrunches up his face then takes a swig of his cider. He thinks. “I just don’t click with anyone.”
Terry gets that. He doesn’t feel like he’s ever clicked with anyone. Well not outside of a handful of people, of which the most important one is sitting on his couch.
“It’s like- We were talking about that new game Gods of Towers Large and Small,” Grant says.
“Right the one that’s an abomination of Greek and Egyptian mythology,” Terry says. Of course he remembers that game he hates it, mostly for the bit, but also because they confused like three egyptian gods and completely botched Titan and God mythologies. It’s a whole nightmare he’ll have to untangle for Grant someday. Grant would probably listen like he has the last two times he’s brought up the game, with that half smile on his face. Terry thinks he pokes Terry about it just to get a rise. It works every time and Grant gets a good chuckle out of Terry’s intensity.
“Right,” Grant says. “The abomination, except he just liked it.”
Terry squints at Grant.
“Isn’t that good? You two had something to talk about, right?”
Grant rolls his head over to look at Terry. His grey eyes are dark today. They change with the weather and moods and the color shirts he wears. Terry wonders if Grant’s ever given one of his dates enough time to notice those subtle changes.
“It was boring,” Grant says. He looks Terry in the eye. “When I talk to you or-” he suddenly looks away, “or one of the guys, you have opinions. You’re not scared to be who you are.”
“You have to give people time,” Terry says. “The first few dates are all performances.” Or at least that’s what he’s surmised from media and Nicky.
“I know, but-” Grant groans. “They just don’t measure up.”
Measure up to who? Terry kind of knows, but it’s irrelevant. Maybe if they were in high school things would be different, but they’re in their early twenties and Grant doesn’t fool around with questioning guys, and even if Terry was maybe… Even if Terry was questioning he wouldn’t want to put their friendship in jeopardy just to try something out. He grips the neck of his beer bottle tighter and shifts so he's no longer curled on the couch facing Grant. He sits on his butt and stretches out his legs onto the coffee table. He and Grant sit in amicable silence for a minute or two before Grant says,
“I hope it’s okay that I came over. I didn’t want to be alone.”
“It’s fine,” Terry says. “Great actually. I’m glad you’re here. Gives me something to do.” Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, because the words slip out too easily.
“I didn’t interrupt your very important reading of-” Grant sets down his drink and makes a show of leaning his body over Terry’s lap to pick up his book. Grant’s chest pressed against his legs feels way too good. He tries to ignore it by pretending to be embarrassed at his book choice.
“Betty’s New Beach Body,” Grant reads off. Terry knows Grant knows what it is because he works part time at the library and this is a pretty popular mystery romcom.
“It’s good,” Terry defends. He wants Grant to pick on him so he can keep up his charade of being embarrassed, but Grant just stays leaning across his lap and flips a few pages in.
“If you like this I’ve got a few other recommendations you might like,” Grant says. “Some of them are a little queer, but if you’re not opposed to leading ladies who swing both ways you might like them.”
Terry quickly tries to decide how he needs to comment on the queer lit thing. He needs to pretend like he hasn’t read some very very gay books in the last few months. He needs to act nonchalant and shrug and say he would be fine with queer lit. It’s not like it’s a big deal reading queer…stuff.
“Yeah. That’s fine,” Terry says. “As long as the book’s good.” He’s going to remain calm and cool.
Grant smiles up at him.
“They’re actually really good,” he says. He pushes up on his elbows so he’s less crushing Terry’s legs, then slowly lifts himself up. In his maneuvering he’s gotten closer to Terry. Casual intimacy used to be normal between the two of them, but Grant started dating more and Terry just felt like he would come between Grant and his prospects. He pulled back. Grant never gave up. He sits up at Terry’s side again and picks his drink back up.
“You were just going to hang out and read?” Grant asks.
“Probably,” Terry admits. He really didn’t have any other plans for the night.
“You don’t care that I’m crashing?” Grant knows Terry loves his quiet evenings. He thinks they’re cute and romantic.
“Not at all,” Terry says. He likes having Grant around. “You know I always want you here.”
Grant smiles at that and knocks his knee into Terry’s.
“Seeeee,” Grant groans and leans down on the couch until he can rest his head on Terry’s shoulder. “You’re so much better than all the boys on the dating apps.”
Terry chuckles, but feels his insides constrict. Grant can’t mean that, can he?
“I’m-” He doesn’t want to say he’s not gay. He used to say that, because he thought it was true but now he doesn’t know. He was pretty sure he was ready to be just plain old aro/ace until a few months ago. It was just a series of moments; a book here, and a twinge of jealousy there, then an offhanded remark from Lark about fucking demisexuals and he’s been shoving the maybe down. Then shoving it down again. And shoving it down. Because Grant doesn’t mess around with people questioning– too scared of getting his heart broken again– and Terry doesn’t want to make the good thing they have now disappear. Grant nuzzles gently into his shoulder. His wet hair leaves little streaks of water on his pajama shirt. He needs to come up with an end to his sentence but his brain is glitching out like all his wires have been chewed on by rats.
“You’re what?” Grant asks.
“I just-” He must be stiff as a board, he doesn’t know how Grant can be comfortable leaning against him. “Think you’re better than dating apps too.”
Grant chuckles.
“You’re not in the trenches,” Grant says. “Ugh, it’s so bad out there. The last three guys I matched with just sent me dick pics. Which, nice, but also maybe try to charm me first?”
“I would charm you first.” The words slip out of Terry’s mouth so fast that he involuntarily moves his arms like he can stuff them back in. It was just knee jerk. It was something Lark would say as a joke. Terry wants to be joking. He’s scared he wasn’t. Either way the words didn’t come out at the right time. There’s no Nicky to laugh at the joke or Lark to pile on. Grant glances up at him.
“I know you would,” Grant says, not noticing or at least not mentioning how freaked out Terry looks. “That’s why you’re better.” Grant pushes away from him and uses Terry’s knee to help him get up to standing.
“I have to pee,” he says. He sets his cider on the table and walks around the couch and to the bathroom. Terry’s left with tingling fingers and a damp spot on his shoulder where Grant had just been. What was that? Terry thinks desperately to himself. There are pieces that he’s worried slot into place to form a picture he’s not ready to look at. Grant cancelled a date to come over to his house. He’s better than the boys on the apps. Grant’s recommending queer literature. Does Grant know what Terry’s been thinking about? Did he see something? Does Grant have gaydar and pinged him? Fuck. Fuck.
Grant can’t really believe that Terry’s better than the guys on the apps. The guys on the apps send him dick pics. Terry’s never taken a dick pic in his life. He’s inexperienced on twenty different levels. He’s barely ever dated, and never dated a guy. He doesn't even know how to have a relationship let alone a grown up relationship. Not that that even matters. Not that Grant likes him that way. It’s stupid for him to be even thinking down those lines.
The door to the bathroom opens up and Grant steps back out. His hair is tousled and a little dryer.
“I hope you don’t mind I used a towel to dry off my hair.”
“I never mind,” Terry says. He doesn’t mind if Grant uses anything in his apartment, touches anything, moves anything, leaves his fingerprints on every inch of it. Terry can barely breathe. He’s sitting stiff on his couch trying not to overthink and in doing so overthinking himself to death.
“You good?” Grant asks. He leans on the back of the couch and reaches a hand out. Before it can Touch Terry’s back, Terry flinches away.
“I’m good,” he lies. He grabs up his beer and drinks too much at once and kind of coughs over it before sliding to the corner of the couch where the armrest meets the wall.
“O-kay?” Grant says he pulls his hand back and walks back to his spot on the couch. He picks up his cider and turns so he has to pull one leg up on the couch. From that position he’s got a perfect view of Terry, also sitting sideways on the couch, still shook and trying not to show it.
Grant’s nail fiddles with the paper on his cider. He peels at the label and scratches at the glue. Maybe they should watch a movie, maybe Terry should suggest that. Terry could distract Grant from whatever he’s thinking about by flashing cute boys on the screen. An action movie or something with lots of fight scenes. Grant loves those movies.
“I heard the new Godzilla movie has a bunch of good explosions,” Terry says stupidly. Grant snorts, then fully laughs.
“You sure you’re alright?” Grant asks. “I don’t think you’ve ever suggested a monster movie in your life.”
Terry shrugs. He’s not alright. His blood is rushing right under his skin and his brain feels like it’s on fire from running so hard.
“I actually wanted to talk,” Grant says. He sounds nervous and his scratching at his bottle slows until it stops. Terry glances up to see if Grant’s looking at him, but Grant’s looking at his bottle. They both sit in silence, not looking at each other and both dead silent with anxiety.
Terry’s turn to talk, he realizes slowly. He can hear his breathing and feels every heartbeat.
“Yeah?” he says. That’s all he’s got.
Grant’s thumb picks back up its rubbing.
“You’ve just seemed different lately?” Grant says. Terry tucks his legs up. He knows a thing or two about body language and he knows he’s sending off curl-into-a-ball-to-protect-your-core vibes but the thought of being fully exposed to whatever Grant is saying sounds way too hard. “I just wanted to know if I did something wrong? Sparrow said that maybe I crossed a boundary I didn’t know about or something, so I just thought if I asked, maybe you could tell me and I won’t do it again?” Grant bites the corner of his lip clearly full of nerves but all Terry’s sees is the way his lip puckers pink and enticing.
Fuck.
And double fuck because apparently Grant’s realized Terry’s been pulling away from physical affection and shrinking away from alone time. Shit. Terry rubs at his palm with his thumb and tries to come up with some reasonable response to Grant’s question. He doesn’t come up with anything. And he doesn’t come up with anything. His heart starts beating too hard, and he can feel something clawing and panicky rise in his throat. Shit shit shit. Is this gay panic? Is this what gay panic means?
“Whoa,” Grant says. “Breathe.”
Terry looks up just in time to see Grant move toward him. He feels Grant’s hand cup his cheek and his thumb brush under his eye.
“Breathe Terry,” Grant says. Terry can’t. He can’t tell Grant what’s really going on and he’s too stupid and tipsy to come up with a good lie. Fuck. He’s lightheaded and Grant is holding his face gently and he’s such a good liar most of the time but he can’t lie right now.
“I’m sorry,” Terry finally exhales through his quickly constricting throat. It’s too much emotion for a stupid question, but he’s overwhelmed.
“What did I do?” Grant pleads to know the answer. He looks Terry in his eye and begs with the crinkle above his eyebrows.
Terry shakes his head. Grant didn't do anything wrong. Terry did. Terry got what he’s pretty sure is a crush and it’s holding on tight to his heart. Terry lifts his hand and puts it over top of Grant’s. He squeezes and pulls Grant’s hand down to his lap, following the tangle with his eyes. He holds Grant’s hand between his and tries not to think about all the times he’s held his hand under different circumstances. Gloved hand in gloved hand walking through a winter market. Clasped together like teenage girls while walking through a crowded concert. Softly, gently in between video games their hands bouncing back and forth between their bodies, their fingers intertwined. He hasn’t held Grant’s hand since his brain started twisting into the thing it is now. This emotional, effusive, ball of want.
Grant’s hand is in his now, slowly bending around his. He sniffles and looks up. Grant’s eyes are still on his, now wet with sincere worry. Terry would do anything to alleviate that concern. Everything except admit the truth.
Grant’s lips open slightly in a worried droop and Terry’s never in his life wanted to kiss someone, but he thinks he might want to try and kiss Grant now.
That’s the problem though isn’t it. He’s never liked anyone like he’s like Grant so what if he’s wrong and leads Grant on and what if he fucks up his best friend?
“Terry?” Grant asks again.
Terry sniffs.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, because to hold all of the love back he’s got to keep Grant at a distance right? That’s the only way the wall will hold and the only way he can keep Grant safe. He’s scared of himself. So so scared.
“I still don’t know what you mean,” Grant says. “You’re scaring me. Please talk.”
Terry takes one of his hands free from Grant and shakes it out in the air for a bit hoping it will clear his thoughts. Grant glances to his hand but doesn't pay it much mind. Terry does movement like this sometimes to get his brain working right. Grant’s used to it, just like he’s used to all of Terry’s weird quirks. Just like he loves Terry’s weird quirks.
Terry shuts his eyes and scrambles for an explanation. Maybe he can tell Grant he’s got an alien rash and can’t be touched. Maybe he can say something happened and now he doesn't want to be close to anyone.
He could tell Grant the truth? That would be a good way to not lead him on, and also not get his hopes up and also they could just treat it like a weird disease Terry caught. Yeah I think I might have a rampant crush on you, but it’s never happened before so I’m just waiting for it to pass. Like a cold or flu. Two things that definitely last for months.
He needs a lie.
No. He needs to come clean. Terry carefully opens one eye, then the other.
“I need to tell you something and it’s kind of stupid and I’ve totally got it under control and it doesn’t have to change anything,” Terry says. He belatedly realizes his hand is still shaking in the air and tries to slow it down. He brings it back into his lap and the tangle of their hands.
Grant nods.
“Okay,” he says. “Hit me.”
Terry takes a deep breath and tries to put as much buoyancy into his voice as possible.
“I just, um. It’s stupid but I got scared that I had a crush on you, but it was totally a false alarm and I’m over it now and I just-” Grant’s face goes through a series of looks that Terry tries to keep up with. He looks confused, then kind of happy but that trails off to disappointment as he looks away. “It’s stupid,” Terry insists, hoping Grant’s face will go back to his kinda stupid happy look. This could be a joke, just a blip on their relationship lifespan.
“It’s not stupid.” Grant swallows. He tries to force a chuckle, but it doesn’t quite work. He manages to look back up and meet Terry’s eyes.
Terry feels like his retinas are burning where Grant is searching them for the truth. Terry tries to hold his gaze. There is some kind of disembodied hope in his eyes, like maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find a different answer. Terry’s stomach flutters with something good and bad, and he swallows it down.
“I’m really over it,” Terry tries to insist.
Grant sinks, then kind of half squeezes his hands.
“What?” Terry asks.
Grant shrugs.
“Is it silly that I kind of wish you weren’t?”
Terry knows Grant has a history of crushing on boys who can’t love him back, but would Grant want him back? Fuck. Terry wishes he knew whether he could ever get over Grant. He wishes he knew if what he was feeling was love or something else. Is he mistaking love for horny? He’s not well versed in this stuff. The two people he would ask about that delineation would be Grant and Nicky, and now seems like a bad time to walk away from a conversation to go to hell.
“Can I ask you something?” Terry says.
Grant wrinkles his eyebrows, then nods.
“When I was thinking I liked you. It felt like this gnawing thing in my stomach, but like good, is that normal?”
Grant quirks a smile.
“Are you asking about butterflies in your stomach?” Grant asks. Terry grumbles under his breath. He knew crushes were stupid, but it’s even stupider not knowing what one is.
“I don’t know,” Terry mumbles.
“What other symptoms did you have?” Grant asks, he looks like he might know something Terry doesn’t. That’s not comforting because Terry likes to imagine himself the smartest one of the group.
“I don't know,” Terry says. “I just mean, I couldn't stop thinking about you- but that was awhile ago-” he adds hastily. This was all happening before, not now. Definitely not right at this minute.
“Right. I know that,” Grant says. He squeezes Terry’s hands, then rubs the backs of them with his thumbs.
“What else?”
Terry thinks about it. He can’t stop looking at Grant, and imagining them moving in together. He has one of his shirts tucked under his pillow, and he thinks about ways he can trick Grant into coming over like buying his favorite foods and ciders, and looking up video game trivia Grant might like, and he goes over annoying things he can say about Gods of Towers Large and Small just so he can keep the conversation going. He pays way too close attention to the color of his eyes and has started to take note of what t-shirts make them look the best. He’s categorizing the different wrinkles in his face. Like the one when he’s actually mad at a video game versus to the one when he’s enjoying something’s difficultly. He thinks of Grant sometimes when he falls asleep, and he’s the first person he wants to text in the morning.
“Just a lot of stuff,” Terry says. The list he’s made in his head is making him reel. He blinks owlishly a few times and tries to reign back in his own surprise.
“You sure you’re over it?” Grant asks. He seems to be reading something in Terry’s face because he looks quizzical and not at all impressed. Lie Terry, Lie. hurry up and do it, but Grant is leaned into him, looking at his face, and his lips aren’t far from his, and he’s holding his hands and the beer is making him just a little lubricated.
“Cause if there’s any chance that you still have a crush on me-”
“I don't wanna hurt you!” Terry blurts out. He pulls his hands free and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He doesn’t want to hurt Grant. “I really like you and I don’t want to date you because if I’m wrong I might hurt you and I never want to hurt you.” There it’s out in the open. All of it spilled out on the floor. Grant is quiet for a beat then a gentle hand rests on his back. Terry loves the feel of it. He preens in the affection and attention he’s getting. He wants to curl up on Grant’s lap, he wants to be wrapped in his arms like in high school after the family dog died and Grant just scooped him onto his lap and let him cry. He wants enveloped by his friend.
“You know why I came here tonight?” Grant asks.
Terry shakes his head.
“Because no matter how many dates I go on and how many guys I talk to, no one, not a single person has come close to measuring up to you.”
“You have to give them a chance, Grant.”
“No I don’t,” Grant says. “I know, from the jump, it’s never going to be as good as what I have with you.”
Terry groans. He’s going to break Grant’s heart.
“I wanted to hang out with you tonight, Terry.” Grant swallows. “And I don’t think you mind the company.”
There’s a pressure on Terry’s back. He’s being pushed forward. He feels Grant move and then he’s wrapped up, right where he wanted to be, against Grant’s broad chest. He takes his hands from his eyes. If he reaches out just a bit his hands will be on Grant’s stomach, touching his soft graphic tee. A little further and his hips, his back beyond. All of the places he’s thought of touching his friend over the last few months. He nuzzles his nose into Grant’s shoulder and breathes in.
“What if things don’t have to change?” Grant suggests. “Or what if they change slowly?”
Terry considers that suggestion, but no. He’s going to hurt Grant.
“Grant-”
“One small thing at a time,” Grant says. “and when it gets too far one of us says stop and we back off? The goal is to preserve our friendship and we work from there?”
“What if one of us fucks up?” Terry asks.
Grant thinks about it then says, “Life isn’t perfect.”
“You don’t like being with people who are questioning,” Terry throws down as another defense. He leans back. He doesn't like the distressed look that comes over Grant’s face.
“I feel like you’re trying to stop this at every turn,” Grant says.
“I am.”
“Why?” Grant looks hurt. Terry feels his stomach squirm. He didn’t mean to make Grant feel bad. “You like me, but you don’t want to try and be with me?”
Shit.
“That’s not what I meant,” Terry says.
Grant nods, but doesn't look relieved.
“I’m just scared to hurt you,” Terry says.
Grant continues to nod but he looks like he’s trying to steal himself.
“I’m not scared of being hurt,” Grant mumbles, and the sincerity of his words makes Terry believe him. It makes him feel weird and warmed. “I’m just saying that I’m willing to try this because I love you, and you said you might like me, and I’m willing to take that chance. Please take that chance with me.” Grant sounds desperate and pleading. Terry’s insides twist with a need to give in.
Take that chance. Huh.
“How?” Terry asks.
“Uhhhhh-” Grant pushes away from Terry so he can look him in the eye. “I don’t know,” Grant admits.
“You’re the one with the relationship experience,” Terry points out.
“Yeah, and normally we like go to a movie, or dinner, but you and I do that together all the time. So we don’t need a first date.”
“So what happens on a second date?” Terry asks.
Grant kind of looks to his left then makes a face like “You know what happens.”
“Oh,” Terry says. He’s not ready for that. “Our timeline is all fucked up is what you’re saying.” Terry says.
“A little bit.”
“Well shit,” Terry says. “We’ll have to build from scratch.”
He starts plotting timelines and expectations in his brain. He could do some research. Someone else has probably been in this situation. He reads books about friends-to-lovers situations. It’s a whole trop-
Grant grabs up his chin and tilts Terry’s face in his direction so their eyes meet.
“You’re plotting,” Grant says. Terry frowns. How did he know? A smile grows on Grant’s face. “I love that about you.”
“You do?” Terry asks.
“I love so much about you,” Grant admits. That’s kind of embarrassing if Terry has to be honest. He does not like being told that. He buries his head back into Grant’s neck. Grant wraps his arms around him.
“So what are you plotting?” Grant asks. Terry nuzzles Grant for a moment then finally leans away.
“Just relationship milestones and things we need to do that we haven’t and things that we don’t need to do that others might have to do and when those things usually happen in a relationship,” Terry explains. Grant nods along.
“What’s one thing we need to do tonight to get us on track?” Grant asks. Terry thinks about it. Usually a romantic relationship is kicked off with a kiss. That’s how things work in his books most of the time and that’s how first dates are supposed to end and all that.
It’s also something he really really wants to try again. It was fun with his two girlfriends in high school, but it never meant much. He’s been thinking about kissing Grant for months now. He thinks this will be better. But if they do it, it will be taking things further than they’ve ever taken things.
Or will it? Grant’s already seen him at his worst. Consoled him over deaths. Met his family. Survived a kidnapping alongside him. Bandaged his wounds. Helped him with homework. Cooked him food. Fought with him and against him. This is just a random romantic milestone. It has nothing on the years they’ve already spent together.
And yet. It means everything. Terry swallows.
“Well?” Grant asks. He looks nervous again. They’re both so nervous and bad at this.
“Can I kiss you?” Terry asks so quietly he thinks Grant might not have heard him.
“Kiss me?” Grant asks. He perks up like a puppy hearing the word treat.
Terry nods. He freaks out from his toes to his fingertips but a grin so wide that it nearly splits Grant’s face in half grows. His eyes sparkle, his features brighten. He’s a different man than the one who walked in early today, wet from the rain and looking disappointed by the night’s cancelled date.
Terry nods.
Grant reaches out and looks at him like this is something he’s been waiting for since the dawn of time. He gently places his hand on Terry’s cheek, right where it had been earlier. Terry lets Grant lead, being the more experienced of the two. He follows as Grant guides him forward. Grant leans in and Terry cocks his head to the side so their noses don’t bump. Shivers run down his arms the moment their lips meet. Grant’s careful, like he might spook Terry if he moves too fast, but it’s the right speed. Terry wants to remember every second of this. The moment Grant presses them close and the moment his lips come together and open again, a delicate dance. It alights something in Terry. A certainty. There’s a moment of deep profound love then a gasping bright explosion of the same feeling. He can’t describe it. It’s like being on the frosty top of Mount Everest or skydiving, or being one of the sparks in a firework. His soul launches into the sky and twinkles against the dark.
“Grant,” Terry says into his best friend's lips. Grant hums a happy little noise and kisses the corner of his mouth before pulling back. His eyes are watery and bright. Terry is staring. His beautiful grey eyes. They’re so close, breathing in each other’s air. Terry’s missed him.
“Was that good?” Grant asks. Terry doesn’t know how to explain it, because he’s never felt like this before. Wholly and devotedly in love so he just babbles something about good and what and wow until Grant pulls them back together. They kiss like they’ve been together for milenia, and it feels right, and beautiful. Terry has a sneaking suspicion that his crush will last just as long.