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When they were sixteen, Ross thought Arin was one of the coolest people he knew. He also thought Arin was a fucking tool. It was incredibly irritating, how often Ross found himself wanting to impress Arin when they were Skyping or exchanging emails, how much Ross wanted him to acknowledge his creative endeavors, despite how cold Arin could be sometimes.
Ross found, after innumerable Skype calls and the occasional conversation over the phone, that Arin was most personable when he was sleepy. His overconfident facade would drop away, and he'd be too fuzzy-headed to get snappish, his big eyes heavy-lidded and his mouth curling into an unguarded smile when Ross would make a dumb joke.
Arin was so closed-off most of the time, so indiscriminately cynical that Ross had to believe he was using it as a defense mechanism. It was the quiet little moments in between that Ross held onto during that first year of their tentative online friendship. And for a while, those moments were hard to come by. He remembered mouthing off to his buddy Justin about Arin more than once. He talks to me like he's so much smarter than I am, he'd said, fists clenched and brow furrowed with what felt like age-old frustration. This guy's got a huge fuckin' ego.
Ross used to think that Arin's online handle really suited him. He'd never really referred to Arin as 'Ego', like others in their circle of artists and gamers did; he felt weird about imposing another level of separation between the Arin that he was slowly getting to know through Skype logs and late-night art streams, and the Arin that he didn't much care for: the standoffish content creator with a chip on his shoulder. Though that didn't mean that he hadn't bitterly thought, nearly every other time that Arin projected dickishness, oh yeah, I'm talking to motherfuckin' Egoraptor, pioneer of artistic integrity and God of the Internet.
That first year, Ross had recounted some of Arin's less likable habits to his closest friends. But he kept the other stuff- certain instances that made him smile like an idiot whenever he thought of them- to himself. He remembered the very first time Arin paid him a sincere compliment. They'd only been talking for around two weeks by then, and Arin interrupted a conversation they'd been having about Runescape bosses to say: Dude, you're really good at making sprite animations? I don't think I'd have the patience to make 'em so detailed. Could you maybe teach me sometime? And Ross had been so delighted that Arin, this guy who he already looked up to for his ideas and his fluid art style, thought he could take pointers from Ross on anything, that he looked back on the memory fondly for months afterward.
Once, Arin laughed so hard at something Ross said that he broke into a coughing fit, which made Ross's chest ache with something akin to pride. And of course, there was the time that they were talking about girls, and Arin had said, Do you think it's gay if you like, practice kissing on your friends, or whatever? 'Cause I don't think it is! You don't wanna go into your actual first kiss with no experience! What if you mashed up the girl's lips with your teeth? What if you accidentally burped in her mouth?
Ross had taken a second to ponder that before he replied, It'd probably be really uncomfortable though. Like, even if it was for science, I'm pretty sure you'd wanna puke if you tried kissing me. And Arin had immediately grown silent, averting his eyes momentarily before mumbling the word Nah so quietly that Ross almost missed it. One of them had changed the subject before the confused tension that had crept into their conversation could grow, but Ross couldn't forget the heat that had engulfed his face at Arin's weird implication.
Over the following two years, Arin and Ross became proper friends, and Ross didn't have to hoard good moments anymore. At some point, Arin had finally let himself drop his guard around Ross, and he was much easier to talk to as a result. Sixteen-year-old Arin as Ross knew him had been sharp-edged and hard to approach at times, but eighteen-year-old Arin was amiable, energetic, and only a little bit broody. The two of them were closer than ever by the time Ross was all set to fly to America for the first time in his life, bags packed and cuticles bitten down to nothing as Ross told Arin over Skype that he was catching his plane first thing in the morning. Ross's eyes all but bugged out of his head when Arin asked if he could meet him at the airport when he arrived.
And that was how, in an unexpected turn of events, Ross found himself searching the dwindling crowd outside the LAX baggage claim for a glimpse of Arin's face. He was exhausted and sweaty and probably stunk of BO, but since he'd set foot off the plane he'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of meeting Arin face-to-face that his heart was in his throat. So preoccupied that he didn't hear his name being called until a hand tugged insistently at the hem of his sweater.
Geez, Ross. Did the flight blow your eardrums out?
Ross's first thought had something to do with Arin's voice, and how much deeper it sounded in person. His second thought was incoherent gibberish, elation rushing through him as he swiveled on his heel, dropped his duffel bags, and reflexively dragged Arin into a hug. Arin had grunted like he'd just gotten the wind knocked out of him, and had patted Ross's back kind of awkwardly, saying, I'm glad to see you too, dude. Ross shut his eyes briefly, relishing the way Arin's scent cut through the overbearing airport smell, before reluctantly backing out of their embrace.
You're tall, Ross told Arin, who appeared to be fidgeting under the weight of his stare.
I've also got a magnum dong, since we're apparently stating the obvious. Ross cracked a smile for the first time in twenty-four hours, and Arin grinned right back, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. C'mon, let's get you to a shower. You stink somethin' awful.
Ross and Arin spent much of that summer in each other's company, indulging in shared interests and discovering how well they bonded now that they could communicate without the hindrance of time zone differences or a spotty Internet connection. Ross returned to Australia with a firm and unyielding desire to move to the U.S. when he had all his affairs in order, and so began the sequence of events that led to Ross being able to work in the same space as Arin on a daily basis.
Ross was pretty fucking fed up with the Grumps office. In theory, getting to work on personal projects surrounded by people you consider good friends was a coveted dream, but in practice it was just… loud. Even after Arin had given Ross his own soundproofed space to work in so he wouldn't feel the need to spend so much time at home, people were constantly barging in to pester him about something or other.
Ross, Jack doesn't believe me about the time we met Chris Sabat at a Megadeth concert. Tell him I'm not lying!
Ross, did I leave my thing of lipgloss in here? You better not have tried it on.
Ross, can you deepthroat this hotdog for me? I wanna film it for research purposes.
The consistent interruptions weren't good for his workflow, and he often found himself clocking out early and finishing up that day's work in the comfort of his home office. On one day in particular, the Grump space was rowdier than usual, but Ross didn't feel up to going home to work in solitude, having woken up that morning with a pit of loneliness lodged in his gut. He left his workstation and searched for Arin, finding him untangling cables in the recording room. Half a protein bar was shoved into his mouth, and he was already leaving crumbs on the carpet.
"Dude, you hate it when we eat in here," Ross said as he entered, shutting the door softly behind him to block out the noise that permeated the rest of the office. Arin glanced up at him and shrugged, taking the protein bar out of his mouth and chewing through a bit of it.
"Kitchen was crowded, and I skipped breakfast today." Arin was still wearing his Gunnar glasses, like he'd taken a break in the middle of screenwriting or fielding emails and forgotten he had them on. "What's up, Ross? You have that murderous glint in your eye."
"Do I?" Ross went over to sit next to Arin on the floor, taking the cables from him and beginning to uncoil them himself. "My concentration's shot to hell, and I don't know what to do about it."
"Don't feel like driving home?" Arin asked knowingly, sitting back and cramming the rest of the protein bar into his mouth. Ross shook his head, frowning to himself. "That's cool," Arin said, inadvertently spraying crumbs in Ross's direction. "You can hang out with me until my next recording sesh."
"How fuckin' generous of you," Ross said lightly, and Arin tousled his hair, making him grimace.
"I'm giving you a free pass to unload on me, man. You gonna let it go to waste?"
"Arin, I can't just blow my load on whoever asks me to. Holly wouldn't approve."
Arin ignored the half-hearted joke, crossing his arms and giving Ross a no-nonsense sort of look. Ross sighed. "Why are you so sure something's bothering me, anyway? I have Gameoverse on the brain, that's all."
"Liar. We've been friends for more than a decade. I'd have to be an even bigger blockhead than I already am to not pick up on this stuff at least sometimes."
"Fuck," Ross said, growing irritated with the tangled cables he'd been yanking at and dropping them to the floor. He slumped against Arin's side, boneless and world-weary. "We're almost thirty, Arin. Isn't that crazy?"
"You don't look a day over fourteen, buddy."
"Hey, I'm serious. I guess it, like, hit me all at once, earlier. I don't even know how to put it into words, but… it's, um… " Ross faltered, and Arin nudged his shoulder encouragingly.
"I'm listening."
Ross picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of Arin's shirt, giving himself something to divert his attention with while he talked. "So, like, time stops for no one, or whatever. And I'm not… I'm not where I thought I'd be at this point in my life. Creatively, I mean." Arin made a vague sound of assent, and Ross twisted the thread around his index finger, lost in thought. "When you're a dumb kid, you have big plans for yourself, right? You're gonna fucking change the world. Thing is, I'm… I'm still that dumb kid. And I keep thinking, I'm in this position where I can create whatever the hell I want, and there'll be an audience for it. So why haven't I done more ? It feels like such a waste."
Ross paused, snapping the thread off Arin's shirt and closing his fingers over it. "Jesus, this is so cliched," Ross muttered, smiling disparagingly to himself.
At this, Arin poked him in the side and said, "Tons of creative types deal with the same shitty frustrations that, like, come with the territory. Doesn't make 'em any less valid as individual experiences. Keep talking."
Ross rubbed at his eyes, blinked away the drowsiness that had begun to creep up on him.
"I dunno, man. Sometimes it feels like… everybody else is bigger and better. All our fuckin' incredible artist friends, y'know. They're doing twice as much, with way less than half the following. And I'm- I'm, like, chained to my routine, trying to figure out how to become inspired enough to take advantage of all these resources that I would've killed for when I was younger."
Ross had nothing left to say, sleepiness abruptly derailing his train of thought, so he leaned against Arin and waited for him to respond.
"We can put Gameoverse on hold, if you want," Arin said after some time had passed, and Ross was fairly certain that he didn't want that, but Arin had suggested it so nonchalantly that gratitude pooled in Ross's chest.
"I really like collaborating with you, Arin; don't get me wrong. We've got a good thing going right now, and I don't wanna wreck it."
Ross interrupted himself with a giant yawn, and Arin seemed to hesitate a bit before saying, "But… isn't the workload getting to you? It's eating up all the time you could be using to explore other project ideas."
The clear concern in Arin's voice lifted Ross's spirits, had him smiling softly as his eyelids drooped. "I think it's probably just the daily grind that's messing with my head. The work itself means the fuckin' world to me, okay?"
"Okay," Arin echoed, sounding somewhat unconvinced. And why wouldn't he be, when Ross had done such a poor job of articulating his misgivings. Still, Ross felt sort of lighter now that he'd attempted to talk it out.
"Thanks for listening to me whine," Ross said, nestling his head against Arin's collarbone, which wasn't quite up to standard as a makeshift pillow but would have to do, because the couch was like five million miles away and Ross wasn't about to get up at this point.
"Anytime, dude," Arin said sincerely, his palm resting at the base of Ross's spine. "Wish I had some practical advice to give you, but I guess all I can do is listen."
"You're a surprisingly good listener, you know that? It's… maybe my third favorite thing about you."
"Yeah? What're the other two things?"
"Number two has gotta be, like… your big, juicy tits," Ross said, voice lilting as he gradually began to doze off. The last thing he was conscious of before he conked out was the satisfying sound of Arin's laugh.
"Aw, did he fall asleep in your lap?"
"Kinda. I was gonna move him to the couch, but I didn't wanna jostle him too much. He looks so peaceful."
"Whoops, I think we woke him up."
Ross blinked blearily as Arin and Dan's faces filtered into his field of view. He pushed himself upright and away from Arin, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his left hand.
"How long was I out?"
"About forty minutes," Arin said, glancing at his watch.
"Dude, Ross, you're actually kinda cute when you're sleeping. Probably because it's the one time you're not running your mouth."
"Fuck off, Dan," Ross said instinctively, fishing his phone out of his pocket and double-checking the time. By his estimation, he'd napped for closer to an hour and a half.
"While I'd love to honor that tender request, Arin and I have a show to record, so- "
"Arin, did you really just sit there and let me drool on you this whole time?" Ross was genuinely kind of baffled, because he didn't think Arin had the capacity for that kind of patience. If their roles were reversed, Ross would've shoved Arin off the second he fell asleep and gone to get a smoothie or something.
Arin stretched his arms over his head, groaning a little when he cracked a joint. "It's not a big deal. I had my Kindle app to keep me company. Also, Pornhub."
"You didn't."
Arin snickered. "Nope. Your giant head would've gotten in the way. Though, uh, I could've definitely lubed myself up with this puddle of spit you left on my pants."
"Sorry," Ross mumbled sheepishly, and Arin grinned at him, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Dan interrupted them from over on the couch. "Save the flirting for later, Arin. We've got a backlog of episodes to get through tonight, remember?"
"I remember," Arin said brightly, wincing in discomfort as he stood up. "Get outta here, Ross. The sun's going down, so I think you can call it a day."
Ross nodded, left the recording room and closed the door behind him. He headed for his workspace to collect his things, and with each step he took, that twinge of loneliness he'd felt upon waking up that morning asserted itself further. The rest of the office had quietened by now, but the silence did nothing to lift Ross's spirits, and he was frowning involuntarily by the time he got to his desk.
He shrugged on his jacket and made sure he had his wallet and his keys. He was in the middle of shutting down his computer and disconnecting his drawing tablet when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Apparently Arin had texted him.
wanna hang out tmrw, just u and me? we can grab lunch or something.
Ross stared at the text for a few seconds, feeling like he'd been blindsided, but unable to pinpoint why that was. Whatever the reason, it must have been good, because he had to suppress the sudden urge to laugh. sure, Ross texted back simply, i'd like that.
it's a date then!!! cant wait to indulge in some sweet, sensual conversation w/ u
Ross couldn't even take a split second to process this before Arin added, dan's threatening to shove my phone up my ass so goodnight dude!! fuck he gets cranky when we're working late
give dan a kiss for me, Ross texted him, a smile spreading across his face. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, quietly realizing that the weight on his chest had very nearly disappeared.
"You're telling me Vernon's your number-one pick? Why ?"
Arin shrugged at Ross kind of sheepishly, reaching for the bowl of pretzels balanced between them. "Maybe I have a thing for, uh, easygoing hipster bicyclists. Or, wait, maybe something was awakened in me the first time Vern got me to choke down a pepper. That's probably what it is."
"I don't buy it," Ross said, and Arin laughed through his mouthful of chewed-up pretzel.
"Really taking this seriously, huh?"
"No, shut up, I'm just… confused, 'cause I thought, if there was one dude in the office you'd wanna fuck, it'd be Dan." Arin made a so-so motion with his hand, which made Ross exclaim, "What, really ? But you're all over him, like, constantly."
Arin stuffed another generous handful of pretzels into his mouth. "Yeah, but that's why the idea of getting him naked is a little boring. I never fuckin' shut up about it on the show, so he probably wouldn't even be surprised. It'd be like ha ha, Arin, you and your jokes. Wouldn't it be so super funny if you sucked my dick right now? And eventually he'd jizz on my face, and we'd sit down to record an episode, and I'd open with some stupid line about Dan jizzing on my face."
Arin paused, licked salt off his fingers before saying, "Plus, he's straight."
"So's Vernon!"
"Naw, I think Vernon's got this soft bicurious aura going on."
"You're bullshitting me," Ross said sullenly.
"Okay, who's your first pick, Ross? Since you're being such a Judgy Jason about this."
Ross was suddenly really preoccupied with the bowl of pretzels, sifting through its contents like he'd uncover flecks of gold if he was careful enough. "I'm not into guys," Ross said after a moment.
"Fuckin' cop-out, dude! Come on, there's gotta be somebody we know that you've had at least one weird thought about. You can be honest with me."
Ross plucked a pretzel out of the bowl, used both hands to pick it apart. "I dunno," he said, and then, in the same breath, "You?"
He lifted his head to see that Arin was apparently at a loss as to how to respond to this. Just as he was opening his mouth, Ross quickly amended, "Barry. It's definitely Barry."
"Wait," Arin said, pulling at Ross's sleeve, "Before that, did you mean- "
"I'm gonna go see if Holly remembered to get those chips you like."
"Ross… "
"It'll only take a second." Ross left without another word, a lump forming in his throat the second he got far enough to stop and think about what had just happened.
He was upset, but the reason for it was something he didn't want to confront directly. His brain had never taken instruction very well, though, and it was darting ahead to the tip of an uncomfortable conclusion before he could distract himself. "God fucking dammit," Ross muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. This was a problem. Ross immediately decided that he intended to deal with it as discreetly as possible, keep it in check as well as he could. Because he didn't want a single thing about his friendship with Arin to change.
Arin gave Ross an inquisitive look when he got back from the kitchen, but Ross shrugged it off, handed Arin a bowl of Garden Salsa flavored Sunchips and started talking about rare Transformers figures. They became so absorbed in conversation that they ended up running out of time for the movie marathon they'd initially set aside the day for.
"I'm going on a coffee run. Do you want anything?"
Ross effortfully tore his eyes away from his computer. "Coffee ?" He asked Arin bewilderedly, frowning at him. "You hate coffee."
"I do. Lucky for me, Peet's sells this sugar-free hot chocolate that's not too bad. Now tell me what I should get you before the caffeine-starved gremlins out there start complaining."
Ross took out his earbuds, cutting off the ambient ASMR track that he'd been doing his best not to fall asleep to. "Arin, should the head of a company really be wasting his time getting coffee for- "
"Hang on, can I borrow this pen real quick?" Arin pulled a creased receipt out of his back pocket and started writing on it, mumbling to himself all the while. "White chocolate mocha for Suzy, green tea for Dan, cappuccino for Barry, pumpkin chai latte for Vernon, uh… fuck, what else?"
Ross cocked an eyebrow. "Brian probably drinks his coffee black, right?"
"Oh," Arin exclaimed, going back to scribbling intently on the receipt. "Extra hot medium caffè Americano with skim milk, two and a half pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, and exactly five drops of agave nectar… for Brian."
"Christ," Ross said.
"The sugariest thing on the menu for Jack, an iced caramel macchiato for Ryan, and just an assload of those tiny creamer packets for Matt. Phew."
"Is that all?"
"No. I'm still waiting on your order, Ross."
"I'll get the vanilla steamer," Ross said hesitantly.
"Extra whip?"
"Yeah. Let me, uh… I'll go with you, help you carry some of that shit."
"So chivalrous," Arin said.
"Cram it. I'm just worried you'll trip and spill boiling hot coffee on your junk."
"Good to know you think so little of me."
Ross held up a hand expectantly, and Arin pulled him out of his chair with ease. "I am impressed you managed to remember Brian's stupid-ass order."
Arin grimaced. "He made me repeat it back to him three times."
"Of course he did."
They walked in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, making their way out of the office. Ross spoke up once they'd gotten outside, the sounds of amicable chatter and keyboard clacking giving way to car exhaust and distant construction work. "It's fucking freezing," he said, sucking in a breath through his teeth and tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands.
"You think so?"
"I'm shivering already."
"It's 'cause of how bony you are, dude. Gotta pack on the pounds in time for winter. Insulation, y'know."
"Uh-huh," Ross said dismissively, rubbing at his arms, which had started to tingle from the cold.
"C'mere, I'll warm you up. With, uh… my considerable bulk."
"Thanks for the offer, big boy," Ross said, a rueful smile creeping onto his face, "But I'll be okay. We're almost at Peet's."
"Well, here, at least take my jacket. I'm not cold at all." Amidst half-formed protests from Ross, Arin took off his jacket and tossed it in Ross's direction. Ross caught it in one hand and glared at Arin, who was now looking pretty damn chilly in his thin short-sleeved shirt.
"You'll get sick. Idiot."
"Don't be so overprotective."
"Like you're one to talk!" Ross leaned up to drape the jacket firmly around Arin's shoulders, walking ahead once he'd done so.
Arin quickly fell into step beside him, buttoning up his jacket and sliding his arms through the sleeves. "Damn it, Ross, can't you just accept a friendly gesture?"
"No," Ross said, manfully resisting the urge to stick out his tongue.
Arin grumbled something under his breath, then grabbed Ross's hand without warning, cupping it between both of his palms. "See, this is frostbite waiting to happen." Arin rubbed one of his thumbs over Ross's fingers, shaking his head. "They're like tiny frozen sausages."
"Thaw 'em out with your meaty paws, Arin," Ross said, expecting Arin to smirk and drop his hand, to come back with a joke of his own, but Arin just kind of stared into space for a moment, absently stroking Ross's hand all the while.
"Um," Ross started, and Arin blinked repeatedly like he was coming out of a daze, his expression unreadable.
"Sorry, I was thinking about something."
"What kind of something?"
Arin looked away and smiled to himself, cheeks tinged red from the cold. "Don't worry about it. C'mon, let's go inside."
Arin released Ross's hand to open the door to the coffee shop, and Ross was left mysteriously tongue-tied for a moment, questions jangling noisily against the sides of his skull.
"Fuck, harder," Ross said in between groans, his voice muffled by folds of soft duvet.
"Jesus, Ross, think about how you sound right now." Arin was kneading firmly at a knot in Ross's back with one hand, and eating a plum with the other, doing his best to keep the juices from running down his arm.
"Do I sound like I'm getting the best massage of my life? 'Cause that is absolutely what's happening here."
"I was thinking more along the lines of, uh… pornstar taking a massive shit. But I appreciate the compliment."
"Really get in there," Ross urged, and Arin worked at the stiffness in Ross's shoulders for a few more minutes, the two of them falling silent but for the sounds of Arin's chewing and Ross's occasional moans of pleasure.
"Think I'm good now," Ross said eventually, lying facedown on the covers for a moment and reveling in how much looser his back felt.
"It's pretty quiet out there," Arin observed, swallowing a mouthful of plum. "Maybe Suzy decided to wrap up early."
A few of Suzy's friends had come over a while ago to film some fashion thing for her channel, and Arin and Ross had relegated themselves to the guest bedroom so that they wouldn't be in the way. Funnily enough, it reminded Ross of when he was a kid and he would skip out on family gatherings in favor of playing Pokemon in his room.
"I'm too lazy to go check," Ross said, sitting up with some effort and reclining against the headboard.
"Yeah, I guess we can just chill in here for the rest of the night."
Ross searched the rumpled duvet for his 3DS, finding it under a pillow. "Could use some snacks, though. I had a fuckin' Hot Pocket for dinner."
"You want the rest of this?" Arin asked, indicating his half-eaten plum.
"It has your gross spit all over it," Ross said, but took it anyway, biting into it without a second thought. "Here," Ross said, dropping his DS in Arin's lap like it was a counter-offer. "I've got Monster Hunter Generations, Planet Robobot, and Pushmo." He took the tiny cartridges out of his pocket and lined them up on Arin's thigh.
"Wait, lemme clean my hands first," Arin said. He sucked the plum residue off his fingers one by one, then wiped them off on Ross's shirt. "Done."
Ross rolled his eyes. "Real classy, Arin." He felt a huge burp coming on immediately after he said this, so he let it out because he knew it would make Arin laugh.
As predicted, he broke into peals of laughter, mirthfully shoving at Ross's arm. "You couldn't have timed that better if you tried," Arin said, leaning into Ross until his giggles petered off.
Ross's chest glowed with fondness, and he wanted to maybe play with Arin's hair, or something, but he wasn't sure if that was entirely appropriate. He hooked his chin over Arin's shoulder instead, nodding toward the DS. "Pick a game. I'll watch and tell you how much you're blowing it."
"Uh, Ross, if that last part sounded appealing to me right now, I'd go record a Grumps episode."
Arin loaded up Planet Robobot, stretching his legs out for optimum comfort. Ross curled up against him, soothed by the easy familiarity of the situation. Him and Arin sitting side by side, contentedly quiet, an upbeat video game track lulling them into a drowsy stupor. The clean scent of Arin's deodorant, the lingering hint of fruit juice on his breath, and the sound of his fingers tapping at the buttons were like a salve, making Ross feel so warm and cozy that before he knew it, he was fast asleep.
Ross woke up to an odd pressure on his chest, and what sounded like a chainsaw starting up right next to him. Once his eyes adjusted and his brain kicked into high gear, he realized that Arin was snoring noisily beside him, his arm slung over Ross's torso.
Ross's first thought was I should probably pull away, but his body apparently wasn't feeling it, because what he really wanted was to go back to sleep, enveloped in the safety of Arin's presence. He could really do without the excessive snoring, though.
Ross sighed softly and turned his head to look at Arin, whose mouth was hanging open, his brow uncreased and his eyelids flickering. Dumbass, Ross thought affectionately, and as he continued to stare, he remembered being much younger and dedicating full pages of loose-leaf paper to sketches of Arin's face, trying to capture his likeness. He had always shredded them afterward out of embarrassment, but he'd kept at it for awhile, wanting to practice drawing Arin's prominent eyebrows, his sloped nose and his expressive eyes.
The memory made Ross's cheeks burn, and he hid his face in Arin's sleeve, shame pooling in the base of his gut. Which was when Arin began to stir, his elbow nearly connecting with Ross's chin as he came out of his slumber. "Ross?" Arin asked, his voice raspy and his tone disoriented.
"Yeah," Ross said, unsure as to whether he was expected to clarify this situation further.
"Oh," Arin said simply, like that had been all the answer he needed.
Silence stretched between the two of them, but this time, it seemed insurmountable to Ross, so different from the effortless, uncomplicated silences he was used to sharing with Arin. Thankfully, Arin bridged the gap before it could grow too wide. "This is like when you fell asleep on me that one time," he said, casually enough, "Except better, 'cause my legs aren't cramped."
Ross couldn't think of anything to say in return, and Arin fidgeted for a moment before he made as if to leave the bed, shifting slightly away from Ross and bracing his hand on the opposite side of the mattress.
"Don't," Ross blurted, his fingers finding Arin's and gripping them lightly. Arin froze, and Ross winced preemptively, not knowing what to expect.
"Uh, is everything okay?" He sounded puzzled, with an undertone of- Was he amused by this? Ross was gonna punch him in the teeth.
"It'll get too cold if you leave, that's all." As he waited for Arin to respond, he grimaced at the heavily shadowed ceiling, realizing belatedly that Suzy must have come in and turned the lights off for them sometime during the night.
"Too cold, huh," Arin finally said, slow and careful. Ross already didn't like where this was headed. "You realize the heater's been on, right?"
"I'm cold-blooded, like a lizard," Ross said, abandoning all pretense of common sense.
Arin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh. "That's not how- "
"God, shut up," Ross interrupted, accidentally sounding pissier than he'd intended. He lifted his side of the pillow and smushed it against his own face, frustration making the back of his throat itch. He was still holding Arin's hand under the covers, their conjoined palms having become slightly damp by now.
Some foolhardy impulse seized Ross in that moment, and he said, "A minute ago, I was thinking about… how I used to draw you all the time. When we were kids. Isn't that stupid?"
"Not really," Arin said, his voice soft and inquisitive. "We still draw each other for fun."
Ross swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. "That's different, though. I don't mean, like, caricatures." He stopped himself from saying any more, squeezing his eyes tightly shut like he could dispel any resulting awkwardness through force of will alone.
"I used to do the same thing, Ross." Ross's eyes snapped back open. "I still do, y'know."
"Yeah?" Ross mumbled his next few words into the pillow. "Could I see 'em sometime? Those drawings."
"Of course," Arin answered easily, unabashedly.
Ross winced when Arin touched his hip, his fingers then tracing a line across his stomach. Ross pushed the pillow away from his face and turned to make direct eye contact with Arin. "What're you doing?"
Arin's hand froze in place. "Sorry, did I make it weird?"
"It was already weird," Ross said, "But you getting all touchy feely isn't helping."
Arin detracted his hand as quickly as if he'd been burned. "Sorry," Arin repeated. The note of distress in his voice plucked at Ross's heartstrings. It was hard to bear in conjunction with the crazy spread of adrenaline through his veins.
Arin held a palm over his mouth as if to shield it from harm, his eyes looking anywhere but in Ross's direction. "I just… I thought… "
"Thought what?"
"Thought you were trying to communicate something to me. Something that's been nagging at me for a while."
Ross squirmed uncomfortably, a damnable heat creeping up his neck. Every possible response felt too heavy, too unnatural and insufficient, and Ross remained silent as his brain zipped along at a breakneck pace.
"Guess I'm just a fucking idiot," Arin said, remorse coating every word. Ross's chest loosened, and the convoluted mess of what-ifs in his mind fell away, and the choice before him came down to simple instinct.
He pushed himself into the warmth of Arin's body, latching onto his chest and listening to the rapid-fire beat of his heart. Arin didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, one arm tentatively snaking around to hover over Ross's back.
"Ross?"
"You are. You're the biggest fuckin' idiot I know."
Arin's hands alighted on his shoulder-blades. "What does that make you?"
Ross answered him with a kiss, hesitant and exploratory, a brief meeting of their mouths that did more to incite further questions than it did to put any to rest. When they broke apart, Ross couldn't look at Arin, opting to bury his face in Arin's chest instead. "That wasn't so bad," Ross mumbled. He almost felt like he was being spun around in a Gravitron.
"We can do better," Arin said, and when Ross tipped his head up, Arin pressed their lips together once more. It was a deeper kiss this time, fervid and unhurried, and Ross was awestruck, shocked at how well they seemed to fit together.
"This doesn't change anything," Ross said, when they were taking a moment to catch their breath.
Arin blinked at him. "Doesn't it?"
Ross shook his head stubbornly.
"Okay," Arin said, giving him an indulgent smile and a kiss to the nose.
"I mean it, Arin. I don't want you getting all mushy on me just 'cause we made out a little."
"That hardly counted as making out. But hey, better late than never. Open up, Sugar Booger."
Ross scowled ferociously at him. "Dude, that killed my boner in a second. If you ever make me think of Hugh Neutron during sex, I'll- "
"Sex? You and me? I dunno, Ross, that sounds like too much change for me to handle." The shit-eating grin on Arin's face was infuriating.
By now, a bold ray of sunlight had made its way through the crack in the curtains, and it was showcasing Arin's features in the best way; limning his hair with gold, bringing out the rich color of his irises. Ross thumbed at Arin's left cheek, feeling punch-drunk and strangely giddy as he said, "I really hate you. Like, really really."
"Aww," Arin said, cupping the back of Ross's head and nudging their faces together, "You say the sweetest things." Arin's other hand found Ross's waist, slid the hem of his shirt up and brushed against his bare skin.
"Fuck, that tickles," Ross said, involuntarily jerking to the side. He should have seen it coming when Arin started to tickle him in earnest, sticking both of his hands up Ross’s shirt and targeting his midsection.
Ross gasped and cursed and ended up ejecting himself off the bed, dragging the covers down with him. “Bastard,” Ross wheezed, aiming a weak kick at Arin and missing by a mile. Arin, ruthless barbarian that he was, laughed gleefully at him.
Ross wordlessly held up an arm, and Arin seized it, yanking Ross over the side of the mattress and into his lap. Ross did his very best to act like this didn’t faze him. “Know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna sic Holly’s birds on you. It’ll be exactly like the Hitchcock movie.”
Arin kissed him so tenderly that, for a few seconds, Ross forgot how to breathe.