Work Text:
It isn't necessarily that Will hates affection, it's more that he likes to decide when he gets it. He's not a fan of being touched or having someone really close to him unless he's indicated that he's okay with it or knows it's coming, and thankfully most of his friends have figured that out. He knows that, at least with them, he doesn't have to worry about being touched suddenly and without warning. There's really only one person he's okay with touching him suddenly, and it's mainly because of how comfortable the person makes him.
When he'd first met his roommate, Gary, they hadn't gotten along. Their personalities clashed too heavily, Will liking things clean, Gary leaving a mess everywhere. Will quiet, Gary loud. Will preferring to be in bed by 10, Gary staying out or staying up until nearly dawn. However, after that first month, they started to… work. They adapted, adjusting to each other's routines and getting used to how the other operates. Things sort of just worked for them after that, and they've been living happily in the same space since.
Will had come to learn that Gary was a very tactile person. He needed something to do with his hands at all times. He always carried a camera with him, something he needed as a photography major but also as something for him to fidget with. He also never said it out loud, but it showed how much he enjoyed the touch of other people. Will had picked up on that after about the third week when he noticed Gary coming back to the dorm with all sorts of marks all over him, hiding nothing of what he'd been out doing.
It wasn't just in that way, though. He also liked to pat Will's shoulder and let his hand linger too long. He delighted in the nights where Will let him trim and then mess with his hair, always spending what should be considered too much time playing with the wavy, dirty blonde strands. Will was always more than happy to let Gary grab his arm or his wrist to drag him somewhere, not mentioning how his hand lingers even after they'd reached their destination. He would always notice how Gary's face lit up when one of their friends wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and sometimes he wished he had it in him to do the same if only to be the reason for that smile.
Will was very aware of his crush on the other man, but had decided he'd make no move to do anything about it. He would always push the thoughts about how pretty Gary's smile, hair, and eyes were, telling himself that it's wishful thinking and that this crush will go away soon enough. His biggest problem lies in the fact that the crush is still there, and the semester is almost over.
It started getting bad more recently after a party at Ray, Pete, Art, and Hank's place. Gary was far too drunk to go back to the dorm, and Will was too tired to want to try. The two of them were offered the spare bedroom, and didn't even think twice about it when they plopped down on the queen sized bed and dragged the blanket over themselves. Will was acutely aware of every place that Gary was pressed against him, as he always was when people touched him, but this time it didn't make his skin crawl or make him feel nauseous. It made him burn.
His skin felt like it was on fire where it was touching the other man's. He could feel his heart racing, like he'd been set alight. Like a robot that just had life shocked into it. He could feel his cheeks burn and felt a pounding in his head, never happier to hear the quiet snoring he'd grown so used to. He couldn't move, couldn't pull himself away from the unfamiliar warmth. Couldn't run away from the burning desire to push closer and search for more potential points of contact.
He'd never had such a hard time falling asleep in his life. He was normally in bed by 10pm with a book in his hand and asleep by 10:30, but when he glanced over at the alarm clock in the spare room of the affectionately deemed "Musketeer House," all that met him was bright red 3-4-9. He remembers staring at the ceiling in the dark, hoping the sheets would swallow him whole. Gary had been slowly inching closer, seeking warmth in his sleep. The other man had turned towards Will and thrown his leg over him, one of his hands outstretched and pressing against Will's. Will had indulged himself and held Gary's hand like an idiot, thus burning the feeling and the memory of it into his mind forever.
He doesn't remember when he'd finally fallen asleep, but he remembers waking up on his side, facing Gary. They'd gotten closer in their sleep, and he could feel their legs tangled together. The first thing he really noticed was the hand in his hair, fingers gently brushing the strands and placing them wherever the owner of the hand deemed best. The second thing he noticed was the silence. It was a quiet he wasn't used to, with Gary always having a fan on in their room, often pairing the white noise with whatever song or album he was enjoying at the moment. The silence allowed him a moment to hear birds outside, cars driving past, and the steadily growing pace of his own heartbeat.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a sight that he wished he could've taken a picture of. Gary Barkovitch in all his hungover, bed-headed glory, looking at him with the softest look he'd ever seen on the other man. His eyes had always reminded Will of the dark, beautiful oceans of the Carolinas that he'd visited all the time when he was younger, but here, in this messy bedroom used for storage more than sleep, he saw the sky. He knew he'd been caught when Gary smiled at him gently and took his hand out of his hair. He mourned the loss immediately, his head feeling wrong without the thin fingers tracing against his scalp and lightly tugging at his hair.
Gary unlaced their legs and got out of the bed, stretching. Will forced himself to look away from where his shirt rode up as he himself sat up. Gary walked around to his side of the bed they'd slept in and sat down on the edge of it. His hand reached up again, a beautiful, tired smile gracing his face. Will commits to memory the way his hair is sticking, his eye bags, and the slightly pale look of someone who had drank too much. They stare at each other for a moment before Gary reaches up and takes a strand of hair that had fallen into Will's face, twisting it around in his finger and watching it bounce back.
"I need to cut your hair again."
It was more a statement than a request, but Will didn't mind. He instead nodded slowly, his brain still catching up to what had happened. His eyes never once left Gary's face. He was happy to let Gary cut his hair, as he actually trusted he'd do a good job and not take too much off. He was always anxious around hairdressers ever since his father took him to one and had his head shaved as discipline when he was younger, but he knew he could trust Gary. He never pushed, never took without double checking, and always left enough for him to not look at himself in the mirror and see his father.
Gary had told him that he worked at his aunt's hair studio as her assistant from ages 12 to 17, and she taught him pretty much everything she knew about hairdressing. Gary was quite good at what he did, and loved when his friends asked him to do their hair for them. The main person who did was Richie, who loved dying his hair and doing downright insane things to it that only he and Gary could even begin to think of. Will had noticed how much Gary enjoyed cutting hair. Of course he had. He noticed everything about Gary, and it was plain to him that hairdressing was as calming to him as taking and editing photos. It was a no-brainer that when Gary off-handedly mentioned that Will's hair had gotten longer for the first time, he'd asked Gary to trim it for him.
The day had actually, finally come where they both had enough free time for the ordeal that Will always made of having his hair cut. It was the first time since that morning after the party that they'd both been free, with exam season throwing a wrench in their plans. Will was sitting in his desk chair across from the sink and mirror in their room, a towel over his shoulders and another one across his chest. He thought he looked ridiculous, but Gary was behind him, working away gently at the too-long strands of hair. He was humming along to the music he had put on, some song about being cut loose playing softly. He watched Gary's face as he worked, mesmerized by the focused determination so evident on it.
Gary perked up when he finished the back of Will's hair, stepping back to make sure he was satisfied. He stared for a moment before placing his hand on Will's shoulder and reaching over beside him for the comb on the sink. Will tried not to think too much about the many points of contact between them, but that burning sensation from the bed was back, and he was too busy trying to will away his blush. Gary had finally leaned back and brushed gently through Will's hair, giving him some reprieve from the touch that lit all his nerves on fire. Will took a deep breath, nodding that he was okay when Gary asks after him, and tries to relax into the chair when Gary starts back on his hair, this time focusing on the sides. They'd agreed to leave the top the length it was as Gary said it made Will look "real handsome."
When Gary had finally finished, he shook Will gently, a warm hand on his shoulder making another round of fire course though Will. He opened his eyes, not having realized he'd closed them, and let his hands loose from where they'd balled up, a stinging sensation in them from where his nails had dug in. When he looked up, he didn't even look at himself. His eyes went straight to Gary who was looking at him expectantly. He forced his eyes down to look himself in the eye, and he felt… normal. He felt right. He felt like he was himself again, and he had Gary to thank for that. For all he hated having his hair done, Gary seemed to just know what he needed, and made the process bearable.
"So… Whatcha think of it, big guy?" Gary's tone is light, and Will's sure most would think it teasing. He knows better, though. Knows Gary better.
"Looks good. Thanks, Gare, I really like it."
"Wow, only one really? Jesus, Stebbins. And here I thought you liked me." Will felt a sharp jolt of panic and met Gary's eyes in the mirror, but he settled when he saw the teasing grin on the others face.
"Asshole."
Gary just laughs in response as Will sighs and leans back in the chair. Gary walks around it, comb in hand, and starts going on about styling. Will can barely hear a word the other is saying, because Gary had decided to stand himself directly between Will's open legs. Will has to resist the urge to grab him and pull him into his lap, because he knows how terribly such an action would be received. He instead just stares. Then, because the universe hates him, Gary steps closer and starts using the comb to brush his hair back, probably telling him how to style it.
Gary puts a hand on Will's shoulder and steps almost impossibly closer. Certainly closer than a friend would be, which is what they are, right? Will can't take his eyes off of Gary's face and knows he must look stupid. Starstruck and in awe, stupid with how pretty the boy practically in his lap was, and too drunk on their closeness to focus on a word he's saying. Gary looks down at him, their eyes meeting, and his words fall silent. He stares, mouth still caught around whatever he was saying, and holds Will's gaze.
Will doesn't even think about what he's doing when he pulls Gary fully into his lap, one hand on his lower back above his hip and the other wrapping around him, not-so-accidentally pushing his shirt up. Gary lets himself be manhandled, going pliantly and adjusting his hand on Will's shoulder so instead his arm is over it, bent to cradle Will's head. His other hand is still holding the comb, but that old thing is long forgotten. Their faces are close, close enough that they're breathing each other in. Will's brain is in overdrive with all the points of contact, his mind set ablaze and screaming Gary's name.
Will's hand is against Gary's side where his shirt is riding up, or more so being pushed up. The skin-on-skin contact makes Will feel faint, the softness of the skin driving him insane and making him crave more. He measures the weight of Gary in his lap against every sensation he's ever felt, and they all come up short in comparison. Their eyes are locked together, and Will lets himself drown in the ocean blue of Gary's eyes. He can't control himself or the way his head tilts up, lining up better with Gary's own.
When Gary leans down, Will meets him. Will barely registers the sound of the comb falling out of Gary's hand as their lips meet. He hesitates for a moment when Gary doesn't kiss him back, about to pull away, but then there's hands in his hair again and his lips are being pressed fully against Gary's own. If all their other touches felt like fire, then this one felt like having molten lava poured straight into his heart so it can spread through his bloodstream. He pulls the other closer, if that's even possible, and deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping against the seam of Gary's lips.
Will thinks he could die happy when he hears Gary whine against his mouth. The noise is like music to his ears, and he wants to hear more of it. The hands in his hair tug gently, pulling quiet, soft noises out of him as well. They stay like that, kissing and breathing each other in, hands roaming everywhere and touching the places they'd never allowed themselves to. It's Gary who breaks the kiss first, giggling when Will tries to follow him.
Gary wraps both arms around Will's neck, letting them dangle over his back and relax there. He rests his forehead against Will's, and they both take the moment to catch their breaths, panting. Gary mutters something to himself that Will can't hear over the rush of his blood in his ears, and suddenly the towels over his shoulders and his chest are gone, a fwoomp noise sounding from somewhere in the room.
Will huffs a laugh when Gary looks back at him, a sort of grumpy look on his face like the towels had personally wronged him. Perhaps they had, or at least Gary felt like they had. He seemed much happier now having access to Will's arms in the tank top he'd been wearing. Gary's hands left scorch marks as they trailed down his arms, goosebumps forming in their wake. Will tries not to overreact when Gary adjusts in his lap and settles against him, but he's sure the deep breath he took and the way he looked down didn't go unnoticed.
Gary's hands find his hair again, fingers combing through it and fluffing it up. One of his hands comes down to hold Will's face, tracing a finger from his temple down to his cheekbone before traveling down to trace his jaw. Will's eyes flutter closed, the fire from Gary's touch spreading all over his face. He's almost certain he's bright red but doesn't care enough to check in the mirror behind the beautiful boy in his lap. He hears Gary laugh softly; his hand having come back up to cup Will's cheek. He feels Gary shift slightly, moving forward in his lap, and theres a gentle press of lips against his nose.
Will startles a bit, opening his eyes, but Gary is so, so close to him and their noses are almost, almost, touching. The world around them completely falls away. To them, nothing outside of their dorm room exists, and nothing before this moment has ever existed. They enjoy each other's presence for seconds, minutes, hours, hell, maybe even days. Will loses track of time while getting so completely lost in Gary, and he finds himself thanking the god his grandmother always prayed to for sending him speeding down the path that led him to this moment.