Work Text:
As soon as we’re alone in the house, he’s all over me, not kissing but hugging, resting his head beneath my chin. I get it. He needs a different sort of comfort tonight.
I sit him down on the couch, set a Hag album spinning in the record player. I ask him if he’s hungry, but he shakes his head no and gestures for me to sit with him. He just wants me.
He just wants me.
It’s been a year since we first kissed, a year since that night of wild passion in the loft, a year since we stood before our wives and asked for both forgiveness and permission. But every now and then, the realization that he wants and needs me as much as I need him catches me by surprise.
He removes his glasses as I join him on the couch. I pull him into my arms again and he nuzzles against my chest.
“Do you think...” It’s the first time he’s spoken all day and his voice is rusty from disuse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Do you think you can stay with me tonight? Christy said she doesn’t mind.”
“Of course.” I run my fingers through his hair. He sighs and sinks deeper into my embrace.
“She took the kids camping with some of their co-op friends,” he continues. “They’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, I think.”
“Okay.”
I don’t ask what’s bothering him. I have a few guesses. Work has gotten almost ridiculous lately, with all the new crew members we’ve hired and sponsored projects we’ve started. Usually, he’s the one keeping us organized when the going gets tough. Usually, when I get fed up at work and need to go outside for a breather, I look across at him. Seeing him stoically typing away, the light from his screen reflecting on his glasses, his jaw set as if he means to beat our tasks into submission through sheer willpower, is enough to push me to do the same. His to-do lists and ten-step plans may get annoying sometimes, but without them I’d have nothing to keep me from zoning out and daydreaming about the next thing.
This week, as we worked ten, eleven, twelve hours a day, I noticed him slipping. He snapped at Stevie and didn’t apologize. He cut me to the quick in a GMM filming session when he laughed and dismissed a topic that I had been speaking about passionately. When Drew came to tell us that one of our sponsors had come back with yet another contract revision, he had simply put his head down on his desk. He hadn’t tried to spin it as a joke, hadn’t blurted out a non sequitur to lighten the mood. He just kept his head down until Drew left and I was beside him again.
He was so tense then. He shied away from me touching him, which amused me since usually I’m the one telling him to keep his hands to himself when we’re at work.
Now, with the music playing quietly, I feel him relax. The tightness in his shoulders loosens as I run a hand across his back. When I tell him to take off his shirt so I can more easily work out the knots, he unbuttons without question.
Oh.
Those muscled arms, that flat chest, those broad shoulders tapering down to his tiny waist, where the black waistband of his underwear is just visible above his jeans...
Oh.
My mouth is suddenly dry.
I want him badly.
No.
Not tonight.
He lies face-down on the couch and I get to work on his back. Part of me is tempted to nip beneath the hair at his nape, but I know that would only irritate him. When Link’s not in the mood, it’s easier to move boulders one-handed than to change his mind.
He wants to talk now. “Rhett... when this is all over, we’re takin’ a frickin’ four-week vacation.”
“Yep. You and your family on one beach, me and my family on another.” I dig my knuckles into his shoulder and he gasps. “No contact whatsoever until we get back home.”
“Naw, man, I didn’t mean separately,” he says after a moment. “We should take a vacation together. A week with our families, a week with our wives, a week with just you and me.”
Just him and me?
I can’t help it. I lean in close and kiss him on the ear, expecting him to push me away in annoyance. To my surprise, he giggles.
“What’s the fourth week for?” I ask.
He gives the slightest of shrugs. “We gotta give our wives a week off too, man.”
I chuckle. He’s right, of course. I work my way down his back, slowing as I reach his waist. I tap my fingers on his belt.
“No, Rhett.” He rolls over and looks up at me, brushing his hair off his forehead with one hand. I search his face for any sign of flirting, teasing, the slightest hint of a crooked smile that means he wants me to ask again, wants to make me beg before he says yes.
There’s nothing there tonight but exhaustion. He smiles, but it’s a weary gesture instead of a flirty one. It almost hurts to see him when he’s this worn out. Reminds me of our early days of working together, when the smallest things - shooting our first videos, being featured on Youtube’s front page, figuring out how livestreaming worked - came at a huge cost.
I return to my place on the couch. He puts his shirt back on and tucks himself in my arms again. I feel him trembling.
“Want me to turn the AC off?”
He shakes his head no.
I run my hands through his hair again.
“What’s on tap for next week?” he asks after a moment.
I snort. “You’re the one with the lists, man.”
“There’s so much. I don’t know how we’re going to make it through this.” There’s frustration in his voice now. “We said yes to way too many things this time around, Rhett.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
“I wish you’d stop saying that, man. We’re probably gonna screw something up and word’s gonna get back to our sponsors and employees and then fans will find out and then-”
“Link.” I tilt his head back so I can look him in the eye. “You know what we’re gonna do? On Monday, we’ll start tackling that to-do list. One item at a time. Don’t stop to worry about how long it will take. It’s not gonna be perfect. But we’ll get everything done, just like we always have.”
His face is pinched with worry. “But-”
He’s not listening. My words aren’t getting through. I dip my head further and lock my lips with his.
He inhales sharply through his nose. For a moment, we’re both still, then I feel his tongue languidly move against mine. He grips my shoulders as we kiss harder. I cradle his face in both of my hands and give him what I can.
When we finally break apart, he’s blushing. He rests his head on my chest again.
“I’m-”
“Don’t apologize,” I say firmly. “Your concerns are important. We need to keep them in mind to keep us moving, keep us from getting lazy. But still... don’t forget the goals we’re working for.”
“Don’t lose sight of the forest because of the trees.” He chuckles. “You’re right. Thanks, Rhett.”
“No problem,” I whisper.
We listen to the music, talking quietly, glad for the chance to simply be together.