Work Text:
He was standing at a railed balcony, looking up at the moon.
"You okay, Crafty?" The voice came through the suddenly opened door behind him, so soft and quiet it almost instantly got eaten by the loud noises of the club.
Crafty looked over his shoulder. Amy shyly approached him at the edge. They were at a streamer event with all of their friends and colleagues, but, as the ones still under the legal age for drinking, they had a little less fun staying in the noisy atmosphere of the club.
"Sometimes I look at the moon and think that I need to fix the resolution of the image." Crafty laughed to himself, looking up again.
"Probably you should get new glasses," Amy said, chuckling along, and leaned onto the railing.
"Yeah, probably..." He nodded, took his aid and wiped the lenses off his shirt. There was a pause, not an uncomfortable one, both of them noted to themselves. Then Crafty spoke again. "Did Fir and Smant load you with work too?"
"Yeah, kinda. The usual." She shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes it feels like the jokes about us living locked-up in their basement are real, even though we don't even live in the same state." She chuckled.
"LMAO, for real."
They stood in silence, watching the stars, faint beat of club music still distinguishable in the chill air.
“Hey, do you ever think—” Crafty was abrupt to start and shut up.
“Hm?” Amy looked at him.
“Um, nothing-nothing.”
Amy knew Crafty was like this. He shuttered through his words and lied, like this wasn't always giving away his nervousness. He was always either too quiet or too loud, nothing in between.
“Spill it, I won't get offended.” Amy smiled and leaned closer in Crafty's personal space, squinting at him daringly.
He jumped in place and away, startled by the suddenly diminished distance. Then, under the soft kind gaze she was fixing him, sighed and came down to his senses.
“About guys?” he finished when he was ready, unsure and embarrassed to ask.
It took Amy a few seconds to put the pieces together, then she shrugged her shoulders. She mused the idea on the tip of her tongue, biting her lower lip.
“Are you asking?” She looked unsure, her brows furrowed slightly.
Crafty's face turned heavily blushed, and he instantly went keyboard mode, mixing up lots of variants of “no” into the unintelligible loud sounds, as he gestured wildly and vaguely.
Amy chuckled, amused by the reaction. She could see right through him like that. And it was always so cute. Though pretty loud. Not that she wasn’t used to this kind of volume from their friends group.
“You think?” he asked finally, immense shyness coming through his voice.
Amy mused the idea over. She never actually thought about it before, not really. But it also was Crafty, so eventually she shrugged her shoulders and stepped closer. “We could try.”
They were staring at each other for a few long seconds, unsure what to begin with and if they actually should, in the first place.
Then Crafty was leaning in, holding onto the railing for support, and Amy was tilting her head, watching him get closer through her half-lidded eyes.
It was a soft touch of lips, slightly trembling from nervousness and inexperience. It was several seconds of slow nipping and uneven pressure.
Then they were looking in each other’s eyes, trying to understand if they felt the same about it.
“This is not gonna work, is it?” Crafty chuckled softly and raised an eyebrow.
Amy huffed and an involuntary smile spread at her lips, as she looked down and joined his light laughter. “I guess, it isn’t.”
They looked at each other for a bit, then turned to settle their elbows on the railing and looked up in the starry sky. They both smiled; something melancholic but undoubtedly right.
“You’re not gonna tell anyone about it, right?” Crafty asked, nudging Amy playfully.
She laughed again, softly and quietly, like she always did.
“Don’t worry, I’ll cache this memory.”
Crafty grinned, enjoying the phrasing and that he could always trust her no matter what. He liked it about her, about them.
“Thanks.” He nodded. “Same.”
The club music that was faintly playing in the background settled the atmosphere of the night. Quiet, soothing, fresh. Just right for them.
“I’m telling you, you’re just wrong!” CJ said loudly through the loud music, suddenly coming through the opened door.
He walked right behind Fir and talked over his shoulder to Smant, holding the door for him. Crafty and Amy turned to look at the company. Fir waved them a little and came closer. Smant and CJ continued to banter loudly, as if they didn’t realise the music wasn’t that loud outside.
“Hey, guys. You alright here?” Fir asked, settling at the railing beside Amy.
Amy and Crafty exchanged glances, then looked up again.
“Couldn’t be better,” Crafty said. Amy nodded.
Fir raised an eyebrow at them, then huffed in amusement and looked to the guys who were still arguing a few meters away. He breathed in the fresh chill air, and slowly his stiff posture relaxed. He hunched over the railing. Amy nudged Fir in the shoulder, and he smiled to her and Crafty, as they both gave him the knowing look.
They all knew. Every one of them. That everything was as it was supposed to be. And they wouldn’t have liked to have it the other way.