Archive of Our Own

The first time it happened, they had been playing a game of Freeze Tag.

It had been an ordinary day so far. Their show was going well, and Sam and AJ were standing on the side of the stage, laughing at what Tom had just said. Luke, who was currently performing with Tom, threw back a quick-witted one-liner and Sam couldn't help but break out into another guffaw. Luke was on a roll tonight.

Sam shouted "Freeze!", just as Tom was about to lay a hand on Luke's shoulder, who was kneeling on the floor in their group's default "I'm-playing-a-child"-pose. After he'd tagged out Tom, Sam assumed his position next to Luke.

Sam's hand hovered over Luke's shoulder, not yet touching. Luke was looking up at him, his eyes appearing slightly smaller due to his glasses. A strand of dark blonde hair was stubbornly refusing to stay behind his ear and instead brushed lightly against his cheek. Gorgeous, Sam thought.

In a moment of clarity, and also being taken aback by his own thoughts, Sam abandoned the teacher-kissing-a-child joke he had been about to make. Instead, he lowered his hand to his friend's shoulder.

"What?", Luke asked in a purposely high-pitched voice, throwing the ball into Sam's court.

Sam couldn't help the dimpled grin appearing on his face, as he fully committed to what he'd had in mind.

His hand left the other man's shoulder to trail up his neck, slightly sweaty from the stage lights and performing for almost an hour. As his fingers reached Luke's cheek, he let them linger there for a moment before splaying them across the side of Luke's face.

It was easy tilting Luke's head up with how Sam was cupping his cheek. And Luke just went with it so readily. Sam was in awe.

"Look at you, sweetheart", Sam started, their position enabling him to look directly into Luke's eyes, "You are doing so good."

Somehow, against his intentions, the sincerity behind his words had carried over into his voice, warm and deep.

Luke wasn't answering him. Instead, he was trying to avert his eyes from Sam's gaze.

Sam frowned. It wasn't like Luke to not instantly counter-attack or at least actively participate in a scene. Luke wasn't acting his sudden shyness, Sam could tell. If he were, it would be way more exaggerated, a show for the audience.

Sam stroked his thumb over Luke's cheek, contemplating his next course of action. The skin underneath his fingers felt warm and considerably un-stubbly for a man Luke's age.

He waited a fraction of a second longer to give his friend more time to answer. Nothing happened. Luke was still avoiding Sam's eyes, mouth slightly parted, and cheeks flushed a light shade of pink.

It's hot in here, Sam thought, and, he looks beautiful like that.

"So perfect, down on your knees for me."

A whimper escaped Luke's pretty mouth, quiet enough for only Sam to hear.

Luke instantly snapped his mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together. The embarrassment he felt was showing as red splotches on his cheeks and ears.

Somewhere in the background Sam could hear the audience bursting into shocked gasps and incredulous laughter, as they registered what Sam had said. He didn't pay them any mind, solely focused on Luke.

Sam hadn't stopped brushing his thumb over Luke's skin, internally marvelling over the blush adorning the man's face. And Luke, Luke was still kneeling, still not saying anything and still trying his best to evade Sam's gaze.

Someone shouted "Freeze!" and whatever had been happening between the two of them evaporated into thin air.

AJ patted Luke on the head to tag him out and Luke looked so relieved to get away from Sam, Sam's heart nearly broke from the way his chest seemed to tighten at the realisation.

Luke hastily got back on his feet, throwing a short glance in Sam's direction, before disappearing behind the curtains at the back of the stage.

AJ assumed Luke's position and a mere moment later, Sam was swept into a brand-new scene, having no time to ponder what had happened between Luke and himself.

Sam more or less forgot about the incident as the show, and later life in general, went on. They didn't talk about it, and Luke was acting the way he normally did, so Sam just assumed he must have imagined it. All the tension he had felt had probably been solely of his own making anyway, delusional wanker that he was.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that a minor slip of Sam's tongue brought back that particular memory in clear, stunning detail. And proofed to Sam that he might not be as delusional as he'd convinced himself to be.

They were sitting backstage in one of the dressing rooms. Sam had claimed a small blue sofa for himself and had splayed his limbs across all the available surface. His red plaid shirt was already half unbuttoned, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a few strands of sweaty hair were falling in his face.

It had been hot on stage, and he was now trying his best to get his body to cool down a bit before the second half of their show.

Luke was sitting cross-legged on a pillow he'd snatched from the sofa, back resting against the sofa's front. Sam had refused to make room for his best friend and watched with a mischievous smirk as Luke made do with what he had.

Luke was grumbling about Sam being a bloody wanker and not worthy of his friendship or something like that. Sam didn't really care, he knew Luke wasn't serious.

Tom was perched on top of a wooden chair, his sock-clad feet trying to find room on the seat. He'd abandoned his shoes some time before the show, as he often did.

"I really liked the change game", Tom concluded, after he had been staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, "AJ really struggled with your constant changes, Sam! But the audience loved it."

"Hey, not fair!", AJ butted in, leaning against the doorway. His arms were crossed, making him appear even more muscular than he already was. "I did my best. Sam is just a huge fucking menace."

“Yes, he fucking is!", Luke agreed loudly, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

"The sofa is mine, I'm not sharing!", Sam reminded him.

Sam let out a hearty laugh at Luke's indignant look but, generous as he was, let Luke have another pillow.

"Tom's Shakespearean monologue in genre was awesome as always. I also liked the scene Luke and Sam did with the priest and the holy goat", AJ continued to recount the first half's highlights.

"Thanks", Sam laughed, a self-satisfied smile on his face, "I really enjoyed that one!"

"Yeah, me too!", Luke agreed, laughing as he remembered the scene. His upper body rocked lightly back and forth as he shook with laughter.

He's got such a great laugh, Sam thought, smiling softly down at the blond man. He wished he could hear it even more often than he was already privy to.

As Luke's laughter slowly wound down, Sam put his hand on Luke's head to get his attention. Luke turned his whole body slightly in Sam's direction and Sam's heart jumped in delight.

"Hmm?", Luke hummed as Sam's fingers started to card through his hair, detangling any knots that had formed over the course of the day.

"Nothing. You know you did a really good job today, yeah?" Sam knew he didn't actually need to tell Luke this. The man was (self-)confident on and off stage.

"Thanks, I guess?", Luke replied, trying to hide his head in his shoulders. The corner of his mouth was tucked up into a soft, timid smile. It seemed as though Sam's small compliment had suddenly made him shy.

Strange little man, Sam thought, a fond smile on his face.

Sam continued his ministrations, his fingers diligently combing through the blonde strands. It took only a moment for Luke to relax back into Sam's touch.

"Could you get me my beer, please?", Sam asked after a few minutes, nodding towards the small coffee table in front of Luke.

Without a second's hesitation Luke uncrossed his legs and crawled forward a pace to reach for Sam's glass. The movement dislodged Sam's hand from his friend's hair and he ached at the sudden loss of contact.

Luke turned around to hand him his drink, still on his knees, one hand holding the glass, the other hand helping him balance in some kind of three-legged crawl.

There are definitely more efficient ways to get me my beer, Sam thought, chuckling at the sight in front of him.

As Luke was close enough, Sam sat up. By doing so he somehow managed to box Luke in between his legs.

"Well, hello, there", Sam smiled down at Luke, who was a bit perplexed by Sam's sudden change in position.

He took the beer from Luke and patted him lightly on the cheek.

"Good boy!"

He'd meant to say it jokingly, because Luke had kind of reminded him of a dog just then. But as so often, when it came to Luke, the sincerity shone through.

Luke paused at the words, body frozen between a kneel and a crawl. His eyes were opened wide, mouth slightly agape. Was it shock? Arousal? A mix of both? Sam wasn't sure.

He watched, transfixed, as a light blush crept onto Luke's cheeks.

"Come here, sit back down", Sam ordered quietly, trying to break their strange silence. He was gesturing at the pillows on the floor between his feet, indicating Luke's previous seat.

Luke was moving the instant Sam had finished speaking. It seemed he hadn't even consciously thought about it. He was just blindly following what he'd been told to do.

Sam was amazed at how easily the other man complied to his requests. He seemed so eager to follow Sam's every word. Just like the good boy Sam had praised him to be.

"Yeah, that's it!", Sam commended, as Luke had settled down between his legs, his back turned to Sam.

"You are being so good, darling", Sam continued on a whim, voice quiet, so only Luke could hear. Luke trembled slightly. Sam could feel it at every point of contact between them.

Sam's hand found its way back into Luke's hair, continuing to play with it. He wound a few strands around his fingers and pulled lightly. Luke let out a small whimper.

"You like that?", Sam asked curiously, a tiny sprinkle of uncertainty colouring his voice. He wanted to make sure he hadn't unintentionally hurt Luke.

Luke nodded at Sam's question, appearing slightly embarrassed. He buried his face in Sam's thigh, as though he was trying to hide there.

Growing a bit more confident in what he was doing after Luke's admission, Sam gently tugged at the strands again. It elicited a soft, breathy whine from Luke. Warmth spread from Sam's lower abdomen through his body at the sound and he hummed in satisfaction.

Sam relished in Luke's small noises for a few more seconds. He revelled in the moist warmth of each breath that Luke let out against Sam's jean-clad thigh where he'd laid his head.

"That's it, Lukey, that's it", he whispered, leaning down towards the other man's ear, "You are being so good for me, so perfect."

The tiniest, most precious moan Sam had ever heard fell from Luke's lips at these words. Luke's body arched lightly back into Sam's touch, making Sam feel lightheaded in the most perfect way possible.

Three of Luke's fingers had wormed their way into the right leg of Sam's trousers, clinging shyly to the fabric, unconsciously tugging at it every so often. It seemed as though Luke was trying to use Sam's jeans as a means to steady himself, anchoring himself to Sam in an attempt to not get lost in a sea of pleasure and uncertainty, to find security in Sam's solid, unwavering presence.

Sam's heart swelled with affection, as he looked at the man between his legs. He wanted to make him feel good and loved and treasured. He wanted to praise him and tell him all the sweetest things he could think of.

But Sam realised that this was neither the time nor place to take things further. He wasn't even sure Luke fully registered what was going on, with the way he'd seemingly gone non-verbal at Sam's attentions. If he let this continue, they'd probably have a hard time dealing with the aftermath.

He had to find a way to bring them back to normal, to something they were used to, something they could handle.

Carefully, he let go of Luke's hair to lightly cup his nape, kneading his fingers at the base of Luke's head. He knew the smaller man was always tense there, Sam had been giving him neck massages for years.

Luke dropped his head forward to give Sam better access. His body relaxed under the familiar treatment, so far so, that Sam felt like the only thing keeping Luke upright at this point was Sam's legs sandwiching him. But at least Luke had stopped nervously fiddling with the hem of Sam's trousers. Sam missed it already. But this was safer.

"Show starts back up in a minute, guys!", Tom's voice broke into their little bubble.

Luke abruptly sat up straight, tensing under Sam's touch. All prior relaxation had left his body.

In an instant, Luke was on his feet - albeit a bit unsteady- and throwing a short, anxious glance at Sam before turning around and practically sprinting towards the door.

Not a second later, he was already halfway down the corridor mumbling something about needing the toilet.

Sam watched as Luke vanished into the hallway. Only when he couldn't see him anymore did he turn back to his other two friends.

Tom was looking at him, eyebrows raised in question. Sam just shrugged. And Tom kept staring.

"I don't know what's up with him", Sam finally answered.

"I was raising my eyebrows at both of your behaviours, babe", Tom replied, adding an exasperated eye roll, and a small smile, at the end.

Sam just shrugged again - sheepishly this time - and picked up his mostly untouched beer to go join AJ, who had - in the meantime - managed to escape towards the stage.

The thoughts and memories of what had happened during the interval of their previous show wouldn't leave Sam's mind for days after. Every time he closed his eyes, images of Luke sitting between his legs were playing before his mind's eye.

He couldn't get over how pliant and calm Luke had become under his touch, how he had shuddered with something akin to pleasure when Sam had whispered sweet praises in his ear. The way he'd reacted when Sam had called him a good boy.

He wondered how something like this had never happened before. They'd known each other for over a decade. How had all their interactions never led to this? Or maybe they had and Sam had just never registered it until now?

It was exquisite, the way Luke seemed to almost glow at any kind of praise Sam directed towards him.

In his years on stage, Luke had gotten compliments from a lot of people, Sam knew that, he'd been there - right next to Luke - for pretty much all of them. And he was fairly sure Luke hadn't ever reacted like this. So, what was so different now? Why was Luke only reacting like this now?

Sam didn't know the answer. But he did know that the praise did something for Luke and that this something seemed to be positive. That alone was reason enough for Sam to decide to make a point of telling Luke he did good more often.

After their next show, as they were leaving the stage to cheers and applause from an awesome audience, Sam clapped Luke on the back. Luke turned his head towards him but kept walking.

"Good job, Luke! You were great today", Sam said, grinning at his friend.

Luke stopped mid step at the words and Sam, who was only a step behind him, practically crashed into him.

"Whoa, Luke, damn it!", Sam exclaimed, startled by their little collision.

He'd gripped Luke's upper arms in reflex in order not to stumble or maybe keep Luke from doing so. Both were still standing, so Sam's well-timed catch had done its duty.

"Gosh, sorry, Sam", Luke apologised hastily, "I didn't mean to trip you up. I was just- I was- I- I- I- sorry- I just-"

"It's fine. Nothing happened. It's alright", Sam interrupted, voice intentionally laced with calmness. He could tell Luke was on the verge of panicking over a minor inconvenience with the way he was stumbling over his words. That was highly unusual.

"S-sorry, Sam", Luke apologised again, his breathing picking up a pace.

"Hey, everything's fine. Look at me", Sam said softly, his hands still holding onto Luke's upper arms. His thumbs were slowly stroking up and down, trying to soothe Luke. It was somewhat working. At least Luke's breaths weren't getting more rapid.

"I said look at me, Lukey", Sam reiterated when Luke didn't turn around, his voice just a tiny bit firmer but calming all the same.

Still having a hold on Luke's arms, Sam tried giving him a small incentive for rotating by lightly pushing him into a turn. Luke just let himself be manhandled, only marginally contributing to the movement. It was better than nothing.

"That's it. There he is, there's a good boy", Sam said, satisfied smile on his lips, as Luke was finally facing him.

At Sam's words Luke's cheeks tinted a bright red. His eyelids fluttered and he tilted his head down, trying to avoid Sam's gaze.

Right, Sam thought, compliments. It was what had made Luke act so different last time too.

But Sam was sure he had told him stuff like this for years. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd complimented Luke after a show. How had he never registered Luke's reactions before? Or was this something new for Luke too?

Sam fretted. Had he somehow neglected to compliment his best friend on jobs well done, characters well played, jokes well told? He hadn't, right? But what if?

He had to rectify this as soon as possible. Luke deserved all the praise in the world!

Sam gently cupped Luke’s chin with his hand and tilted it back up, so Luke was forced to look at him. Luke’s cheeks were still red, but his eyes looked glassy, almost as if a film of unshed tears was covering them.

As Sam studied Luke a bit closer, he realised Luke was still, or maybe again, worked up about what had happened. It was so unlike him. Luke hardly ever lost his cool. And when he did, he usually wasn't turning into a stuttering and shaking mess, like he was right now.

"Luke, what's wrong?", Sam asked, bending down a bit to try and catch Luke's eyes, which were trying their best at flitting from one side to the other, just to avoid having to make eye contact.

"I-I don't know. You suddenly yelled at me when I stopped, and I don't know. It kind of felt like you were disappointed in me. You just took me off guard with it, I guess", Luke admitted a bit ashamed, while almost effortlessly providing the truth.

After so many years of friendship and working together honesty came fairly easy to them.

"You are the one who took me of guard", Sam chuckled, "and, Lukey, I just shouted because I was taken aback by the sudden stop you performed. I'm not and I never was mad at or disappointed in you, yeah? Get that into that beautiful noggin of yours."

Sam smiled, ruffling Luke's hair with his hand.

Luke rewarded Sam with rosy cheeks and a tiny quirk of his lips and Sam beamed back at him.

"We good now?", Sam asked, his hand leaving Luke's hair and stroking his shoulder instead.

"Yeah", Luke nodded.

Sam gave a satisfied and acknowledging nod in return. He placed a hand on Luke's back and steered him back into walking direction.

"Then come on, let's see what Tom and AJ are up to."

It was safe to say that Sam had thought about Luke's reactions a lot over the last week or two. And he had come to a conclusion: Luke had a praise kink. At least Sam was pretty sure of it. And he was determined to proof his suspicions at the first possible chance.

The opportunity he'd been waiting for should present itself just a few days later.

The day's show had been a success and afterwards the four of them had gone to the nearby pub to celebrate and hang out. It had been a fun night, filled with beer and laughter.

They'd received the bill, split it amongst the four of them and were now putting their jackets back on.

"Do you guys want to take the tube, or should I get us an Uber?", Tom asked, already taking out his phone.

"Honestly, I was thinking 'bout just walking", AJ replied.

"Just 'cause you are a sporty sportsman now, doesn't mean you have to drag us into the madness with you", Sam teased, while petting down all his pockets to be sure he hadn't left anything behind.

"It's just a thirty-minute walk, it'll be nice", AJ countered.

"Yeah, for you, ‘cause you live closest!", Luke butted in.

AJ laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"There's a tube station near my flat, you could walk with me and then hop on there."

"I think that's a good idea", Tom said, pocketing his phone, then looked at AJ, "I wasn't finished talking to you about your new film project, this'll give us enough time...maybe."

"Luke, Sam, you in?", AJ asked.

"Sure, let's get going, guys. I'm getting hot in here with all these clothes on", Luke shooed them off. As none of the other three moved within the second, he just pushed through them to take the lead towards the exit.

They made their way through the crowded pub, Luke in front, followed by Tom and AJ with Sam bringing up the rear.

As they reached the door, Luke held it open for the others to go through first.

"Thanks!", Tom and AJ said in unison, as they passed by Luke and stepped into the night.

When Sam finally arrived at the exit, a few seconds behind the others, as he'd been delayed by a drunken patron stumbling into him, Luke was waiting for him, door still in his hand, holding it open for Sam.

Sam could absolutely appreciate it when an opportunity was basically shoved directly in his face like that.

He stopped in the middle of the threshold and smiled at Luke. He rolled his shoulders back, physically and mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.

This, right here, was the moment he'd been waiting for. This time, he was going to praise Luke intentionally. It wasn't just going to be out of the blue like it had been all the other times.

The slight nervousness he'd been feeling these past few days when he'd thought about testing his hypothesis had vanished with the alcohol coursing through his blood stream. He was almost giddy with anticipation of what was to come.

Sam leaned in closer to Luke, making sure to establish eye contact.

"Good boy, Lukey", Sam experimented, voice intentionally lowered, but loud enough to be heard over the chatter coming from within the pub.

The change in Luke's posture was instant. His shoulders lost a tension Sam hadn't seen them holding and his face lit up like bloody fireworks or something. It was hard to tell in the poor light of the London night, but Sam could swear he detected a faint reddish tint spreading over Luke's cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. All too soon, Luke ducked his head, effectively hiding the glazed-over look his eyes had taken on.

"Don't get shy on me, sweetheart", Sam continued, feeling confident after Luke's reaction. The alcohol he'd consumed probably helped too.

Luke just ducked his head even further, cheeks glowing bright pink.

Sam had to actively fight the urge to just simply reach out his hand and cup Luke's chin. He wanted so badly to tilt up Luke's head, to make the man look at him. He longed to see the pink cheeks and the bright eyes Luke was hiding. He yearned to place his own mouth upon Luke's pretty lips, maybe press him against the wall of the pub, or against the door, and kiss him senseless, shower him in praise and sweet nothings 'til Luke became all soft and breathless under him, yielding to Sam's every touch and word.

Sam shook his head, clearing out the thoughts that had taken over his mind. In the middle of the doorway of a busy pub was not the best place to attack Luke like this.

"Come on, let’s get going", Sam said, slinging an arm around Luke's shoulders and steering him out the door. Luke, still a little dazed, easily followed his directions. It wasn't too unusual of an occurrence. After so many years of friendship they were tuned into one another.

They stepped onto the pavement and into the cold night air. Tom and AJ were already a few strides ahead but had stopped underneath a streetlamp to converse while waiting for their friends.

Sam let go of Luke as they approached the others but stayed close to him nonetheless, their shoulders brushing with every step.

"What took you so long?", Tom asked as they caught up to him and AJ.

"Got held up by a drunk", Sam shrugged.

"You mean Luke?", AJ laughed, and the others joined in.

"Very funny", Luke rolled his eyes, "I only had three beers, maybe four."

"If you say so", Tom said indulgently, still chuckling.

"Alright, let's get going!", Sam cut into their banter, "It's getting late."

The pavement was not broad enough for four grown men to comfortably walk next to each other, but they'd undertaken London's streets for years and easily fell into their usual walking formation. Two people in the front, two in the back. This time Tom and AJ took the lead. Luke and Sam trailed behind them, their shoulders still brushing occasionally.

Sam let the conversation Tom and AJ were leading wash over him. His mind was not with whatever they were talking about. He was instead thinking about Luke. Nothing new there, he'd been doing that for years.

Sam was quite pleased with his successful experiment earlier this evening. Luke had reacted so wonderfully to Sam's praise and Sam loved it. He loved the surge of affection and satisfaction and that tiny spark of power that travelled through his body every time it happened.

The back of his hand brushed against Luke’s, and he turned his head to smile down at his friend.

"I bet you", Sam whispered conspiratorially, "that these two are not finished when we arrive at AJ's."

Sam had been right. As they stopped outside the entrance to AJ's building Tom and AJ were still engrossed in one conversation or other. This was probably going to take at least fifteen more minutes.

But Sam had an idea on how he might be able to kill some time. It was his usual go to, especially when Luke was there.

He grinned. This was the perfect time for a nice game of gay chicken. And now that he knew how to get under Luke's skin even more effectively, it was bound to be legendary.

Sam looked at Luke, who was casually leaning against the house, one foot propped up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The orange-yellow glow of the streetlamp illuminated his features and made him look like the most enticing person Sam had ever laid eyes on.

Sam stepped closer to Luke, drawn towards him like a moth to a flame. He crowded him in against the wall, one hand placed right next to Luke's shoulder.

"I'm bored", Sam confessed, placing his other hand on Luke's waist.

"Are you now?", Luke smiled teasingly, and Sam grinned back.

"I am", Sam nodded, putting on an exaggeratedly earnest expression.

"Well, you are in luck", Luke replied, un-crossing his arms. He placed one hand over Sam's shoulder and fisted the other into the fabric of Sam's light-brown jacket, "As chance would have it, I am pretty bored myself. I could do with some entertainment."

Sam grinned, satisfied his plan was working so perfectly.

He nuzzled his nose against Luke's cheek, his beard scratching lightly against Luke's clean-shaven skin. Sam hummed lowly, his lips brushing against the shell of Luke's ear.

"Been wanting to do this all night", Sam whispered and felt Luke shudder as the warm air hit his sensitive skin.

"Yeah, me too", Luke replied, his voice just as quiet as Sam's.

Moments later though, an impish grin stretched over Luke's face as he drew back slightly to look into Sam's eyes.

"The game is on!", Luke proclaimed and smashed their lips together in a hard kiss. His hands were cupping Sam's face on both sides, holding his head still for Luke's attack.

After the initial surprise, Sam kissed back just as fervently. It was almost like one of their stage kisses, which had really not been Sam's idea when he'd proposed this game of gay chicken. He wanted something more profound, something that wasn't for show, something that was just for the two of them. And he was going to get it!

"Someone's eager", Sam teased as he pulled away from the kiss.

Luke pouted, offended by the sudden end their kiss had met. Within a few moments though, he looked at Sam with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Too much for you already? You giving up?", Luke smirked at Sam.

"Oh-no, darling, far from", Sam whispered, voice deep and full of sinful promise, "But we are going to do this my way."

"What if I want to do it my way?", Luke countered, fighting a giddy smile at their familiar back and forth.

"Nah, you love it when I'm in control", Sam smirked at his friend, "Now be good, Lukey, and let me show you how it's done."

Luke went silent as he registered Sam's words. He waited, obedient, clearly restraining himself from simply kissing Sam again. It was just like Sam had intended.

"Yeah, that's it. Knew you'd be a good boy for me", Sam murmured, so quiet, he wasn't even sure Luke could hear him. Judging by Luke's reaction though, he had almost certainly understood what Sam had said. Sam smiled, satisfied and kind of proud to be the reason Luke was acting the way he was.

Luke's hands were resting on Sam's shoulders where he'd placed them as they'd broken their previous kiss. His fingers curled into the fabric of Sam's jacket, steadying himself and trying to draw Sam in by his lapels. Sam went with Luke's silent request, stepping a bit closer to the other man.

Sam brought their foreheads together, looking into Luke's eyes as best as he could considering the low lighting and extremely short distance between them. He was trying to match their breathing to one another. It wasn't easy as both their breaths were choppy, reflecting the anticipation that had taken hold of their bodies.

He slowly rubbed their noses together, smiling as Luke closed his eyes to better feel the small sensations Sam was bestowing on him.

Sam breathed against Luke's mouth. Luke's lips were slightly parted, looking like they were just begging to be kissed. They'd have to wait just the tiniest bit longer though before Sam gave them what they wanted.

Carrying on with his quest to render Luke into a speechless and panting mess, Sam raised one hand to lightly cup Luke's cheek. His other hand remained on his friend's waist, steadying the both of them.

Luke's breath stuttered at Sam's touch. He had obviously not been expecting it, too focused on remaining still, being good, the way Sam had told him to be.

Sam felt thoroughly pleased with Luke's minute reactions so far. It was exactly what he'd been aiming for. Exactly what he had imagined, what he'd been fantasising about. Luke was just perfect like that.

Sam started to stroke his thumb softly over Luke's cheek, feeling the light stubble underneath his skin. Luke had probably shaved just this morning, Sam mused.

Tilting Luke's head up the tiniest bit, Sam finally brought their mouths together. Just softly though, the lightest brush of Sam's lips against Luke's. The touch was fleeting but sent a tingling sensation through their bodies none the less.

After just a second, Sam broke their kiss, drawing back slowly, carefully. He watched as Luke opened his eyes, beautiful irises and dark pupils staring back at Sam. A calm he seldomly felt washed over him as he looked into Luke's eyes, their breathing in sync, maybe even their heartbeats. A man could dream.

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, never, not with Luke. But there was something between them, a steady undercurrent of their day to day lives that had floated to the surface as they'd kissed, or maybe even before that. This wasn't anything new per se, it had happened a few times, usually when they were together like this. Close, intimate. Something shifting between them, crawling out of its hiding place somewhere deep down in their hearts, showing itself in soft touches, whispered conversations, affectionate gazes.

Sam loved Luke. Loved him with all his heart. And he'd take whatever pieces of Luke he could get, no matter how small, no matter how rare, he valued every single second he could spend near his friend.

Tom and AJ's voices were drifting over to them; they seemed to be deep in conversation still. Sam smiled at Luke, momentarily turning his head towards his other two friends and breaking the silent tension between Luke and himself.

Luke recovered quickly, after Sam had stopped looking at him and seemed almost clear headed when Sam found his eyes again.

"This all you got?", Luke asked, playing overly bored with everything that was happening. He was miming a yawn, exaggeratedly covering his mouth with his hand. But Sam could feel the little tremors that were running through Luke's body, could hear how his breathing had picked up a bit, making Luke's fake yawn sound just a tad nervous.

"Patience is a virtue", Sam proclaimed, "I'm just getting started."

With that he captured Luke's lips in another kiss, longer this time, deeper.

Luke melted against him, slinging his arms around Sam's neck and carding his fingers through the hair on the back of Sam's head. A pleasant tingle travelled down Sam's back at this gesture.

Sam stepped forward, crowding Luke even further against the brick wall, eager to have their bodies touching.

Luke instinctively spread his legs a little, enabling Sam to get even closer.

"That's it, darling, that's it", Sam commended, breaking their kiss. His voice was low and quiet, "Such a good boy, Luke."

Luke mewled at the praise, sinking further against Sam.

Sam placed both his hands on Luke’s waist, steadying him, weak-kneed as he seemed at the moment.

Their lips met again. Sam parted his lips lightly, waiting for Luke to recognise his intentions and follow his lead. He carefully licked against Luke’s lips, not demanding, just questioning.

He wanted to know how far Luke was willing to go. Not that this would be the first time they’d used tongue in one of their games, but it was rare for it to go as far.

It wasn’t long before Luke’s lips hesitantly parted, and Luke drew in a gasping breath. Sam hummed in satisfaction and let his tongue slip into Luke’s mouth.

Luke was reserved in his reciprocation but clung to Sam and let him take the lead in their kiss, their whole interaction. He didn’t seem to want to change a thing about it.

Luke had -in general- always been the more cautious and hesitant between the two of them when it came to gay chicken. This was, of course, not the case for other aspects in life, because Luke was a little daredevil at times and thrived on impulsive decisions.

Gay chicken though had always been Sam’s strong suit. He was pretty confident when it came to fighting for triumph with all the gayness he could scratch up from within him. He'd never actually lost this game, so he had all the right to feel sure of himself and his actions.

Sam deepened their kiss, his tongue brushing against Luke’s. He brought one of his hands back up to Luke’s face, lightly cupping his cheek and tilting his head just the tiniest bit. And Luke just let him, while clinging to Sam with all the strength of a newborn kitten. Luke was lucky to be penned in between Sam and the wall or else he’d have already sunk to the ground in a boneless puddle, Sam mused, doing his best to keep Luke upright.

It might have kind of gone to Sam’s head a bit, the way Luke reacted to his praises and actions. But it wasn’t even like he had to try that hard. The praises just came to him naturally, no long thought process or planning required. And Luke was so malleable in his arms, so easy, and so damn receptive for every little praise Sam threw his way.

It was a bit strange seeing Luke like this. But it occurred to Sam that he wanted this to happen more often. Luke just became so wonderfully pliant when Sam praised him. And Sam loved it, loved how relaxed and turned on Luke seemed with every word of approval. Why couldn't he have figured this out sooner?

They continued their kiss, their lips pressing against each other and their tongues dancing together, with Sam in the lead and Luke following his cues.

Stealthily, Sam let his hand wander into Luke’s hair, thinking back to the last time he’d played with those blonde strands, remembering Luke’s reactions to having his hair tugged at. Back in the green room, a few months ago, Luke had practically melted at Sam’s ministrations and Sam had fucking loved it, had dreamed about doing it again ever since. He wanted to coax those wonderful, tiny whimpers and moans of pleasure out of Luke, wanted to make him repeat Sam’s name in breathless whispers over and over again.

Sam reverently stroked through Luke’s hair. Not wanting to startle Luke too much, he began by lightly massaging his scalp, carding his fingers through the soft, blonde hair, undoing the knots that had formed over the course of the day.

He felt Luke relax further against him, and the brick wall.

Sam wound a few of the strands around his fingers and pulled, not too hard, but strong enough for Luke to feel it.

The motion elicited a small whimper from Luke, almost quiet enough for Sam to not catch it.

Realising that covering Luke’s mouth with his own was counterproductive if he wanted to actually hear Luke’s noises, Sam reluctantly withdrew from their kiss.

A disapproving grumble left Luke’s throat as Sam broke the kiss. But Luke’s discontent seemed to be quickly forgotten as Sam tugged at his hair again.

Luke’s head went with the direction Sam’s pull had set, exposing his throat to Sam.

A little choked sound, that might have been Sam’s name, escaped Luke’s lips as Sam started to kiss along the other’s neck, his hand still fisted in Luke’s hair.

“Don’t be shy. Let me hear you, sweetheart”, Sam murmured into Luke’s skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Luke’s jaw, alternating the strength of his pulls on the blonde hair.

“Sam”, Luke whimpered, so close to Sam’s ear that the warm air of his breath felt hot on Sam’s skin, making Sam’s spine tingle with satisfaction.

Sam continued to kiss the sensitive skin covering the side of Luke’s neck, causing Luke to breath Sam’s name again.

“Mhmm, being so good for me, Lukey, so perfect.”

Luke surrendered to Sam’s touch, his head lolling in whatever direction Sam dictated. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open and his lips were gleaming with spit. His tongue was darting out to re-wet his lips in between every few gasps and silent moans of Sam’s name.

Sam loosened his grip, weakening the hold he had on Luke’s hair.

Luke, with more freedom to move his head, buried his face into the space between Sam’s neck and shoulder, nuzzling his cold nose into the warm skin of Sam’s body, moaning and whimpering every time Sam tugged at his hair anew or whispered sweet praises into his ear.

“You being my good boy, Lukey?”, Sam purred and felt Luke nodding his head into the groove of his neck, his fingers weakly opening and closing around the fabric of Sam’s lapels as though he was a kitten treading for milk.

“You are, aren’t you? Such a good boy. You are being all sweet for me, baby, all perfect.”

In their typical games of chicken Luke wasn’t usually this relaxed, malleable, and Sam would even go so far as to say submissive in his responses. On the contrary, he normally gave as good as he got. Well, almost as good. Sam was, after all, still the undisputed champion of this game. And he held that imaginary title due to his hard work and dedication to the true and tried art that was gay chicken.

But as much as Sam liked seeing Luke like this, he also didn’t want to overwhelm him, as Luke, with the alcohol and Sam’s constant praises, seemed rather spaced out and so, so pliant in Sam’s arms that Sam worried he’d somehow irreparably broken him. Maybe he should tone it down a bit? Then again, Luke was a strong-willed individual. Sam trusted him to stop their game -was it still a game? - if he felt uncomfortable or wanted it to end.

Nevertheless, he opted for keeping this whole interaction on the safe side by taking a tiny, metaphorical step backwards. Letting Luke come down from wherever he was floating to, give him the chance to get his head back on straight.

He let go of Luke’s hair, just stroking now, not pulling anymore. Swaying them slightly from side to side, one hand on Luke’s back, the other carding through his hair. Luke was clinging to Sam’s jacket, his fingers digging into the brown fabric, huddling close, as though he wanted to crawl inside Sam’s ribcage and build a home right there. He wouldn’t have needed to bother, he already had permanent residency in Sam’s heart.

Luke was still quiet, but it seemed to Sam as though he was finding his footing again, standing on his own, not leaning all his weight on Sam for support.

Sam cupped Luke’s cheek, making them face each other again, and preventing Luke from burying his head in Sam’s jacket as he’d been doing for the past few minutes.

They stared at each other, small smiles adorning their faces. All good?, Sam tried to ask without any words. Luke nodded, a silent conversation passing between them. Raised eyebrows and a head tilt from Sam, Go on as normal? Another nod from Luke, a bit shy, maybe a bit embarrassed.

Sam smiled a dimpled smile and stroked his thumb over Luke’s cheek. He was more than ready to continue their game of gay chicken, although a bit sparser on the praises now, as he had probably fried Luke’s mind enough for one day.

Sam let his hand wander from Luke's cheek down to the collar of his coat, trailing his fingers along the buttons Luke had meticulously closed when they'd prepared to leave the pub. It was cold enough outside to warrant a fully buttoned-up coat, but Sam couldn't care less about the temperature. There were way too many layers between Luke and himself. Measures were to be taken.

Sam carefully undid the snap fasteners on Luke's coat one by one, starting at the uppermost button and working his way down, all the while trying to keep Luke distracted by peppering him with tiny kisses. As Sam had finally exposed the coat's zipper, he pulled it down, slowly and teasingly.

The moment he deemed the coat sufficiently open, he slipped one hand inside to caress Luke's side. Luke's awfully patterned shirt was the only thing protecting the sensitive skin of his belly from Sam's eager fingers.

Sam captured Luke’s lips in a passionate kiss, continuing to stroke along Luke’s waist. Luke reciprocated eagerly, finally letting go of Sam’s jacket and instead draping his arms over Sam’s shoulders, one hand finding its way back into Sam’s hair.

Even though Sam had more or less promised himself he’d cut down on the praises for now, a few still slipped out whenever their lips parted.

“So good, darling”, he whispered as Luke pulled away to take a much-needed breath.

And without fail, the praises catapulted Luke right back into whatever frame of mind he’d been in ten minutes ago.

Luke’s grasp tightened in Sam’s hair, and yes, Sam could now, at least marginally, understand why Luke loved having his hair pulled.

“That’s it, Lukey, being so good.”

Sam pushed Luke back up against the wall, kissing along his jaw and nibbling at Luke’s earlobe.

Luke gasped at the new sensation, arching his body towards Sam and tilting his head to expose his throat.

Sam didn’t hesitate to accept this invitation and latched onto Luke’s throat, sucking tiny bruises into the sensitive skin.

“Get a room, you two!”, AJ good-naturedly shouted over at the lovebirds and effectively tore Sam out of his Luke worship.

Luke whined, wordlessly complaining about the sudden loss of Sam’s mouth on his skin.

Half a second later, his eyes widened in fear and embarrassment as he registered the sound he’d made.

Sam squeezed Luke’s side in a reassuring gesture. All’s good, Luke, don’t worry.

“You should know by now that we all have a bit of an exhibitionist streak!”, Sam called back towards AJ and Tom, his thumb stroking Luke’s side, not wanting to let go of him.

“Speak only for yourself!”, Tom laughed, “I prefer to not do it in public!”

“When- When’s the next tube leave?”, Luke spoke up, shielded from view by Sam’s body.

“Aahmm”, Tom checked his phone, “Six minutes, and the next one in 16.”

“Alright, I’m gonna make a run for it! See you guys!” And with that Luke was off, sprinting towards the entrance of the underground, half open coat, messed up hair and kiss-swollen lips in tow.

“Right”, Sam sighed into the suddenly empty space in front of him, “guess I won?”

Sam didn’t think about the gay chicken debacle. Alright, that was a lie. He did think about it, but he tried not to. Which was not easy, but he managed to convince himself to just see it for what it had been originally intended to be. An experiment. And a successful one to boot.

In the days and weeks following this very successful experiment, Sam made a point of praising Luke at pretty much any opportunity he got. Luke brought him a beer from the bar, Sam would praise him. Luke opened a door for him, Sam called him a good boy. Luke was awesome on stage, Sam commended him for his performance.

And, so help him any higher power that may or may not exist, Sam revelled in every single one of Luke’s reactions.

Sam wasn’t entirely sure if Luke had caught on to what he was doing but sometimes it seemed as though Luke was expectantly waiting for Sam’s approval after he’d done something that warranted praise. And Sam delivered, every time, without hesitation. He couldn’t starve his good boy of the well-deserved praise.

His good boy. Well, that was a thought right there, wasn’t it?

He might have actually called Luke that during their gay chicken escapade a few weeks ago, if he remembered correctly.

And, well, it had felt good, it had felt fitting. Luke was made to be Sam’s good boy.

Sam had this ridiculous longing for Luke to be his. Really his, not just one of his best friends but truly and fully his. He’d make sure that all of Luke’s needs would be met. He knew he could do that, be everything Luke ever needed, not necessarily in a possessive way but more in an I’ll-always-be-there-whenever-and-however-you-need-me way.

He watched from up on the stage as Luke and Tom arranged the chairs down in the audience. They had opted to do the set-up on their own today so they could spend some more time at the venue and prepare everything together, just the four of them. And their cameraman.

Luke looked perfect from up here, Sam concluded. Okay, not just from up here. When they were standing next to each other, he looked just as stunning. Luke looked at his best, though, Sam thought, when Sam was kissing him or praising him. The beautiful blush that would spread across Luke’s cheeks at every little compliment. Sam wanted to …to lick it off his face? Nah, that was dumb.

Sam shook his head, his brown hair falling into his face at the motion. He covered his face with his hands, lightly pressing his fingers against his eyes to get rid of the images of Luke. Luke, in his arms, pressed against the brick wall by Sam’s body. Luke, nearly melting at Sam’s ministrations, relinquishing control and handing it over to Sam, letting Sam do and say whatever Sam desired to. Luke, half delirious, moaning Sam’s name, clinging to Sam, their heavy breathing penetrating the cold, silent night.

Damn Luke for being so fucking irresistible and damn Sam for not getting a grip on his desires.

Sam rubbed at his closed eyes one more time before quickly sweeping his hair back into its rightful place with a practiced motion.

He sighed. He wanted to go outside into the evening sun, take a few drags of his vape just to calm down a bit, collect his thoughts and store them away where he couldn’t access them. But that would have to wait, because he still had a job to do here.

The memories of that fateful night of chicken had left a slightly bitter aftertaste in Sam’s mind. Luke hadn’t even once mentioned it, not a word. Sam hadn’t mentioned it either, but that was different. At least that was what he told himself.

If one did not talk about something for a proficient amount of time, then it had never actually happened. And that was that, Sam guessed.

Thing was, though, Sam wanted it to have happened, wanted it to matter, to mean something to Luke. Because it mattered to Sam. It was his own fault for being stupid enough to fall in love with his best friend.

He knew they needed to talk about it, no matter if Luke or he himself wanted to or not.

Sam wasn’t sure how to go about it, though, because just going up to Luke and saying ‘Hey, remember the drunk gay chicken thing the other day? Yeah, right, the one you ran away from. Yeah, I’d like that to happen again but without you taking off afterwards.’ wasn’t going to cut it.

Or maybe a quick ‘Luke, remember when you practically melted in my arms just because I called you a good boy, and then we kissed. Let’s do that again.’ probably wasn’t the best idea either.

No matter how much he did not want to, they absolutely needed to talk about it because somehow, whatever was happening between them had evolved from friendly, well-intentioned compliments to something complicated, something Sam wasn’t sure how to define or correctly handle.

Did Luke even register how strange this was? Them acting like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed in these last few weeks or even months and living life as though all was the same as it had always been. Maybe Luke did feel like that. Maybe to Luke it was just another good ol’ drunken game of chicken and some praises from a good friend, nothing more to it.

“Sam, try a few sentences. I need to see if the mic works!”, AJ shouted from wherever he was, effectively tearing Sam out of his reverie and chasing away the thoughts about Luke.

“Right, I’m on it!”, Sam shouted back, not using the microphone in his hand.

“Microphone, dumbass!”, Luke laughed from down in the audience, holding one of the chairs before putting it down in the row he was creating.

Sam brought the mic to his mouth, “I kindly request that Luke shut up.”

Luke burst out laughing, not only at Sam’s pettiness but also because of the terrible audio feedback that had accompanied it.

“Holy shit!”, Sam had almost dropped the mic at the painfully unpleasant sound.

“Sorry!”, AJ yelled, “Keep talking, I’m going to try some stuff!”

Sam began his usual - by now more than well-rehearsed - opening speech while closely watching Luke and Tom, mostly Luke though, pushing chairs around.

“Alright, all done, Sam!”, AJ let his fellow group member know, cutting his speech short.

“Fantastic, thanks, AJ!”, Sam acknowledged, then focused his attention back on Tom and Luke, “You guys need any help down there?”

“Nah, almost done, but thank you”, Tom replied.

“Alright. Luke, can you give me four chairs for the stage?”, Sam asked, doing his best to ignore that nagging voice in his head reminding him to fucking talk about the chicken thing and everything else too while you are at it.

“Sure thing, Sam!”

Luke handed him four chairs, one after the other. Sam took the last chair from him and proclaimed with exaggerated earnest and put on voice: “Utmost thanks, my dearest, darling sweetie pie!”

Luke instantly threw his head back in loud laughter at Sam’s nonsense. Sam joined him, his laughter quieter, as to still be able to hear Luke’s wonderful, joyful laugh.

A comfortable warmth flooded Sam’s body as he listened to Luke, and he couldn’t help the proud smile spreading across his face. Sure, making Luke laugh was usually not a difficult task, nonetheless, Sam felt a spark of satisfaction and pride lighting a small, cozy fire within him every time he succeeded in making his friend smile or laugh. Maybe they didn’t need to talk after all. Everything seemed just fine.

Luke clambered onto the stage, helping Sam to arrange the four chairs to their liking.

As Sam was finished with his side of the stage he looked over to where Luke was standing.

Luke was watching him, waiting for something as he was standing behind one of the chairs, hands casually resting on top of the chair’s backrest.

Feeling the urge to say or do something as Luke somehow managed to look like a child showing off their artwork and eagerly awaiting their parents’ praise, Sam went over to him, standing on the opposite side of the chair.

One hand found Luke’s, lightly caressing the back of Luke’s hand.

“Thank you, Lukey!”, he began quietly, not wanting the others to hear their conversation, “You are being such a good boy today. You’ve done a great job arranging all the chairs.”

There was nothing mocking or insincere in Sam’s voice.

Sam could feel Luke tensing and untensing his grip on the chair, could see it too, how Luke’s other hand was brushing against the chair’s backrest, using the texture and the unrelenting sturdiness of the material to ground himself, to remain in the here and now.

The praise might have been a bit over the top, Sam acknowledged, but he would do anything to see Luke blush, and if that meant praising him for arranging chairs, well then that’s what he would do without a second thought. Because Luke deserved it.

Just like all the times before, the change in Luke’s demeanour was instant. He seemed to immediately relax at Sam’s words, trusting Sam to be in charge of the both of them now. He was looking at Sam with huge eyes, hoping for even more sweet words. A blush was slowly creeping onto Luke’s cheeks and Sam was watching in awe as the fair skin took on a reddish tint.

Sam wanted to throw a blanket over the other man, just to keep this wonderful sight to himself. This was for Sam’s eyes only, no one else’s. Luke was his. If only Luke knew this too.

“Come on, Lukey boy, let’s go backstage. We’re all done here”, Sam whispered, taking Luke’s hand in his and leading him backstage, “The others will be finished soon.”

Luke followed him at every step like a well-trained puppy would follow its owner.

How, Sam wondered, could he have ever earned this? What had he done to deserve someone as wonderful as Luke? Well, not that he had Luke, but he didn’t not have Luke, so he counted himself one hell of a lucky person.

“Luke.” Sam was still holding his hand, the both of them standing in the entrance to the greenroom.

“Yeah?”, Luke asked, voice small, not making any move to step away from Sam.

We need to talk. About us. About this. What are we doing?

“You are always being so good for me, so perfect.”

Luke was blushing, harder than a few seconds ago, and Sam revelled in it, soaked up every bit of happy, unbothered Luke because he feared he had no choice but to destroy this illusion of happiness they had found in whatever this was.

We need to talk.

Luke looked so wonderful, so happy and content. Sam couldn’t bring himself to destroy this peace and calm in Luke that he could observe only so little of, so seldomly.

Luke mostly ran around like he was born with ants in his pants and yet, whenever Sam praised him, he seemed to be filled with a calm he did not possess beforehand. And the way he suddenly blushed at every single one of Sam’s compliments…it was amazing, and odd. Mysterious?

Sam wondered how this could happen, because Luke was not a shy person. Hell, that guy mimed sex with himself on the regular in front of hundreds of people when he was on stage and didn’t even blush. He made all kinds of sexual innuendos without batting an eye and one memorable time he’d even taken off his trousers during a show. Then how, how was it possible that one small praise, one singular ‘good boy’, rendered him a blushing and stuttering mess?

Don’t get him wrong, Sam wasn’t complaining. He loved it, loved making Luke lose his composure, but he’d also love to know why Luke reacted like this.

And to find answers to his questions they needed to talk about it.

He didn’t particularly want to, but better now when they were alone than later when all the others joined them backstage. He took a big breath, preparing himself for the conversation to come.

“We need to talk, Luke”, Sam said, keeping eye contact, still holding Luke’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“What about?”, Luke asked, instantly suspicious of Sam’s serious tone. Whatever calm Luke had felt previously it seemed to have evaporated before the words had even left his mouth.

“You know what”, Sam replied. He could feel how Luke tensed under his touch, his hand no longer fitting in Sam’s the way it had just mere moments ago.

“I’m afraid I don’t”, Luke tried, carefully extracting his hand from Sam’s grip.

“You do. I know you do. We need to talk about this, us.” Sam reached for Luke’s hand, searching for skin contact, connection, something to proof to himself that he wasn’t about to ruin everything. Luke took a step back, leaving Sam’s hand suspended in the space between them. Swallowing heavily, Sam let his arm sink back to his side.

This was not going well.

“Damn it, Luke. We need to talk about this. About the other night outside AJ’s where you ran away.”

Sam sounded accusing, angry. He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. He was just fucking frustrated because Luke clearly had other plans for this conversation, playing dumb like it would save him from ever answering Sam’s questions.

And of course, Luke got defensive at this, crossing his arms, shielding himself from Sam’s words and touch.

“There’s nothing to talk about!”, he spat, bringing even more distance between them by taking another step back.

“There is and you know it!”

It was shouted too loud. Sam wanted to take it back, say it calmer, but it was too late.

The silence following was almost deafening.

There were footsteps approaching from somewhere, getting closer by the second.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

He was fucking this up badly.

“Yes, I know”, Luke sighed, most of the confrontational attitude gone as the threat of someone getting closer loomed around them. “But can we not do this now? Not right before the show.”

“Sure”, Sam conceded, defeated, knowing he wouldn’t be able to persuade Luke right now, “We’ll talk later.”

They did, in fact, not talk later or any other time.

It all came to a head a few days later when they were alone at Luke's place. Them and a few of their friends had had a fun evening with dinner, drinks and boardgames. All the other guests had already left, and Sam had offered to stay to help clean up. He was also there to talk. But Luke was, so far, blissfully unaware of this and Sam himself had no inclination or urgency to start a conversation anytime soon.

Sam was carrying a few used dishes into the kitchen where Luke was already busy hand washing the ones that were too big for the dishwasher.

The moment Sam saw it, he knew he had to seize the opportunity. Not for talking, but for something else. Because there were a million things more pleasant than starting certain conversations.

They were finally alone, really alone, for the first time in ages. Definitely since the first time he'd figured out his Luke, his wonderful, little Luke, liked to be called a good boy.

And seeing as they were acting like all was normal and like they hadn’t kind of had a quarrel before their latest show, Sam was going to continue just like that. Because nothing had happened, all was good. And, honestly, why should they waste time talking about it, if they could just have fun with it. Maybe, if Sam played his cards right, they could forgive, forget and simply move on.

Sam put the dishes onto the kitchen counter and stepped behind his best friend, who was about elbow-deep in dish water and soap bubbles.

One of Sam's hands came to lay on Luke's waist, the other on his shoulder. He was standing so close, every time he breathed in, his body would touch Luke's back. Every exhale he took would graze the sensitive skin of Luke's nape.

Sam pressed a short kiss to the side of Luke's neck. He could see the other man smile at the gesture. It had been a long time since they'd last shared something like this.

"Doing so good, Lukey", Sam whispered into Luke's ear, his voice deep and full of affection. He felt Luke shudder at the praise and couldn't help the satisfied smile appearing on his lips.

The hand Sam had placed on Luke's waist started to gently caress Luke's side. The warmth of Luke's body seeped through the fabric of his shirt and into Sam's skin.

They stayed like that for a little while, Luke doing the dishes and Sam just holding him, watching him work and placing soft kisses on Luke's neck every now and then.

"My good boy", Sam murmured into Luke's skin when Luke placed another clean dish on the dish rack.

Luke sucked in a sharp breath, going rigid under Sam's touch.

Sam paused, not expecting this reaction. He turned his head to get a better read on Luke.

As Sam watched, a myriad of emotions seemed to flicker over the younger man's face. Had he said something wrong? Surely not, right? He’d praised Luke multiple times before without Luke showing any negative reactions. Yeah, maybe ignorance hadn’t actually been the best option after all…who would have thought?

Damn it, he should have just insisted on having the conversation right then and there five days ago in the green room, or even sooner. Fuck.

Luke slowly let go of the breath he had been holding. His hands were gripping the edge of the sink, the movement drawing up his shoulders. 

With a defeated sigh, Luke let his head fall. A few strands of dirty-blond hair were displaced by the motion and fell forward, covering the side of Luke's face, efficiently shielding their owner from Sam's gaze. 

Nothing happened for a minute or two. 

Luke's breathing was choppy. His back lifting and falling with every uneven breath. 

Sam watched, not daring to speak. 

Luke looked like he was either about to shout in anger or start crying. Though he was obviously trying his best -but close to failing- at doing neither. Sam wasn't sure which outcome would be preferable when the inevitable fall into one of these emotions finally happened. He didn't know what to do to prevent any of it, either.

So, he just stood there, close to Luke, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"Sam?", Luke's voice was small when he finally spoke. His eyes were downcast, and his shoulders slumped slightly forward. It seemed like he wanted to just curl into himself. Sam could practically feel him trying to bring distance between them.

Sam stepped back. He didn't want to crowd Luke. His right hand was still lying on Luke's shoulder though, refusing to completely abandon his friend. Sam gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort the other man. 

"What is it?", he asked, voice quiet, dreading the answer.

"Could you please stop calling me a... a good boy?", Luke whispered, intently staring at the dirty water in the sink.

Sam struggled to swallow around the lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat. His chest was hurting something awful as he tried and failed to take in a breath. Had he been wrong the whole time? He'd thought Luke liked to be praised and called a good boy. It was his own fault for not trying to establish any rules or boundaries or even just a definition for whatever the hell had been going on between Luke and him these past months.

Sam didn't know how to respond to Luke’s plea. Try as he might, all his improvisational skills had left him alone for this conversation.

"But you are a good boy!", he tried. 

He had never had a joke fall so flat in his life.

As soon as the words had left Sam's mouth, he knew he'd fucked up. Of all the possible responses he could have given, this must have been the worst.

"Would you just fucking stop it already!", Luke suddenly exploded.

He whirled around, dislodging Sam's hand from his shoulder in the process. Sam took another step back, his heart squeezing painfully. He hated seeing Luke like this, especially when he was the cause of it. And he definitely had only himself to blame here because he thoughtlessly started this- this whatever- as some sort of bad joke and escalated it into this complicated thing that had just now found its breaking point, its uneven and sharp edges threatening to cut deep wounds into their years-long friendship.

"I know you think it's hilarious how I get all flustered when you say stuff like that. But fucking stop teasing me with it!"

Sam flinched at Luke's sudden outburst. He'd really messed up.

"Damn it, Sam! I know I'm fucking weird. Stop rubbing it in my face!"

You are not. I'm not, Sam wanted to say, but nothing came out. Why was his voice giving out at the most inopportune moment? Shit. Get a fucking grip, Sam.

Luke stomped through his kitchen, clearly livid. A loud bang echoed through the small room, as he snatched a fresh tea towel out of the cupboard and slammed the door with full force. Sam grimaced.

Luke didn't even bother to unfold the tea towel. He just violently rubbed the fabric over his wet hands. Sam was afraid he'd scrub all the skin away with how hard Luke was pressing the cloth down, like he wanted it to hurt. And well, Sam thought, better to solve the little problems he could than that fucking huge, seemingly unsolvable mess floating all around them.

"Hey, Luke....hey", Sam said, finally having found his voice again. He was purposely injecting a calmness that he wasn't feeling into his words, "Stop that, you are gonna rub yourself raw."

He slowly stepped closer to Luke, as though Luke was a jittery animal, prone to run away at the slightest threat. He reached out his hands towards Luke and the towel.

"Your hands are getting all red and sore. Give me the towel", Sam continued, having already grasped an edge of the offending fabric.

"Don't tell me what to do!", Luke hissed, tearing the cloth from Sam's hold.

He stomped out of the kitchen and into the living room, throwing the towel onto the coffee table.

Sam wondered how he'd messed this up so fucking bad. He had obviously misjudged something somewhere along the way. All he had wanted to do was spend some time with Luke, make the guy feel good, maybe steal a few kisses. And now Luke was, Sam knew from experience, close to crying his eyes out. 

Luke didn't cry a lot or get angry like this. But the few times Sam had seen him this distraught it had always, without exception, inevitably ended in tears. When there was no anger left to hide the hurt or the injustice or the inferiority or whatever it was that Luke was feeling, the dams broke and let all the bottled-up feelings flow down his cheeks in rivulets of bitter tears. Sam hated to see it. He always felt so damn helpless whenever it happened. And to boot it all, this time he was the cause of it.

Sam let out a frustrated grunt. Damn it, he never should have started any of this. He should have kept his own feelings at bay and not make those praises into anything more than normal, friendly compliments.

Sam took a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn't do any good if the both of them were agitated.

"Alright, here we go, I got this", he encouraged himself and followed Luke into the living room.

Luke was running circles in front of the telly, clearly still seething.

"Why are you still here?", Luke asked, a tad less livid, but still angry enough, as he registered Sam following him around with a concerned expression on his face.

"Why would I leave you alone when you are clearly upset? I'm not going anywhere 'til we've solved this", Sam told his friend, shrugging his shoulders as though it was the most obvious thing in the universe. To Sam it was. No friend of his would be left alone and in emotional peril as long as Sam had anything to say about it.

"I'm sorry for making it feel like I was teasing you about whatever this is. I wasn't, I swear", Sam tried to apologize, succeeding only partly.

"I'm not so much angry at you than I am at myself, Sam", Luke admitted, a bit dispirited, "I mean, it's me who's acting like a fucking dog every time I get a compliment."

"What?", Sam asked, momentarily taken aback by Luke's words. His question went unanswered. He watched as Luke raked his hands through his hair, before he let them fall to his sides.

Luke stopped his angry pacing, turning to face the TV. He just stared into nothingness for several long seconds, taking harsh breaths and curling his hands, still red and irritated from the towel, into tight fists, his nails digging into his palms. Sam was sure it had to hurt, but Luke showed no signs of it.

When Luke finally spoke, it wasn't to Sam but to his own reflection in the TV screen.

"Why am I like this?", he whispered. Sam could see how Luke was desperately trying to not get choked up while he was talking, clearly upset with himself.

"I'm not a dog, for fuck's sake. I don't need to be called a good boy! I shouldn't fucking want to be called a good boy!"

Sam wasn't entirely sure if Luke's words were meant to be heard by Sam or if he had already forgotten that Sam was even there. Nevertheless, it brought things into perspective. Luke's problem wasn't so much the praise itself as it was his reaction to it, the feelings it stirred in him. It wasn’t that it meant nothing to him, like a dumb joke between the two of them. It was that it meant too much. Sam felt so stupid. Sure, he’d hoped and suspected Luke might feel like that, but now that he knew Luke actually did…he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Luke removed his glasses as a few tears of frustration tried to escape his beautiful eyes.

"Damn it!", he cursed, swiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Luke plopped onto the sofa, throwing his glasses onto the coffee table. He sat there, hanging his shoulders in defeat. Then, he propped his elbows on his knees and started to agitatedly wring his fingers. 

"I don't want to cry", he whispered, as though he was confessing a secret. Tears were welling in his eyes, threatening to fall any second. Luke’s eyes were shiny and wet as they found Sam’s.

"I know, but it's okay, Luke, it's okay", Sam told him, whispering too, automatically adapting to Luke's volume of speech.

"No, it's not. Nothing's fucking okay. How can it be okay for me to feel like this? It's not normal. I'm such a freak. No sane adult should want to be called a good boy."

Luke's voice had flared up again as he worked himself into a rage. The tears had broken free as he was talking, trailing down his cheeks in small rivulets.

"Luke, you are not a freak, don't say stuff like that!", Sam responded offended on Luke's behalf.

"But I am! You've seen how I react when you call me a good boy. How I get all hot and bothered at your praise. And damn it, Sam, I know I shouldn’t, but I can't help it. It- it makes me feel so good but also so weak at the same time. And I hate feeling so exposed every time it happens, but I crave it so bad, and I don't know what to do, Sam. I don't know how...I don't...fuck", Luke sounded defeated, trying and failing to hold back the overwhelming rush of emotions and tears.

The blond man buried his face in his hands. He was -unsuccessfully- attempting to stifle the sobs that were suddenly wracking his body.

Sam's heart broke at the sight. He observed the scene helplessly, not sure if Luke wanted to be touched right now. 

He stood a few steps away, watching as Luke shakily manoeuvred himself into an embryonic position.

Luke looked so small and young as he tried to roll himself into a miserable ball. He was facing away from Sam, head almost buried into the backrest of the sofa. His legs were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was rocking his trembling body lightly back and forth in an unconscious attempt to soothe himself.

"Oh, Lukey", Sam whispered compassionately.

A heart-wrenching sob escaped Luke at Sam's words, and he began to shake and tremble even harder.

Sam just wanted to wrap him up in his arms, cuddle him until he stopped crying. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, calm him down, tell him everything was going to be alright.

"Luke", he whispered, stepping closer to the sofa and sitting down on the carpet right in front of it, next to Luke's shaking form. Close enough to be able to reach out and touch him.

"Luke, can I touch you? Do you want a hug?"

For the longest time there was no answer. Sam wasn't sure if Luke had even heard him.

Then; "Touch", Luke pressed out between two sobs.

Sam could work with that. As soon as the word had left Luke's mouth, Sam's hand was in the other's hair, lightly stroking through the strands, massaging softly at his scalp. His hand trailed down over Luke's shoulder, moving up and down his upper arm.

Luke was still shaking under Sam's touch, but he seemed to gradually calm down as Sam caressed him.

"That's it, Lukey, that's it. Everything’s going to be alright", Sam whispered, still stroking Luke's arm.

"How?", Luke rasped, his voice unsteady.

"Because we are going to make it be alright", Sam told him, surprising himself with the air of confidence his words carried.

"But-"

"No 'buts', Lukey. We are going to figure this out", Sam promised, gently stroking a strand of hair out of Luke's face and behind his ear.

They fell silent again, only spasmodical sobs or sniffles from Luke breaking their quiet togetherness. Sam kept on stroking Luke's arms and head, rubbing his back, touching him gently, lovingly.

Luke had probably stopped crying by now. At least he wasn't trembling anymore, and the last actual sob Sam had heard had been several minutes ago. He was still facing away from Sam though. 

“Maybe you were right the other day…about talking”, Luke whispered, so softly, Sam almost didn’t catch it. A wet chuckle accompanied the statement, “Might have saved me the embarrassment just now.”

Sam let out a startled laugh. “Well…, huh, that’s, yeah…maybe.”

They fell silent again, seconds stretching into minutes. Not much except the occasional sniffle could be heard coming from Luke, which was unsurprising as he was bound to have one hell of a stuffy nose from crying snot and water for so long.

Sam grimaced as he watched Luke wipe at his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. The rough material of the shirt would just irritate his skin more.

"You need a hankie?", Sam asked, having already pulled an unused, but thoroughly crumpled, paper tissue out of his pocket.

Luke turned his head to see Sam dangling the object in front of his face. Sam was pursing his lips and tilting his head slightly to one side, trying to enticingly present the tissue to Luke.

The tiniest smile crept onto Luke's face at Sam's antics, and he slowly unfurled from the tight ball he'd folded himself into.

Sam felt like he was seeing the first rays of sunshine after a week of rain.

“Sorry”, Luke mumbled as he slowly sat up, eyes red and cheeks wet.

“What for?”, Sam asked puzzled. If anyone had anything to be sorry for, it was himself.

“Flipping out, crying, you know, all of that…” Luke gestured helplessly at and around himself.

“Don’t you dare apologize for your feelings!”, Sam admonished.

“Sorry.”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly, a small smile teasing at his lips. He felt the urge to ruffle Luke’s hair as though Luke was a cute, tiny child, but he didn’t follow through with it as he was still sitting on the floor.

Luke finally took the handkerchief from Sam and while he was blowing his nose and wiping his tears, Sam got up from the carpet and joined him on the sofa.

Sam sank into the plush cushions of the sofa, silently watching as Luke cleaned himself up.

After Luke had pocketed the tissue Sam turned his upper body towards him and opened his arms wide, inviting Luke into a hug.

As soon as Luke saw Sam's waiting arms, he let himself fall into them, basking in the warmth and strength and comfort Sam's hugs provided.

Luke was basically glued to Sam's side, his whole body turned to Sam, legs drawn close, almost kneeling. His knees were digging into the side of Sam’s thigh. But Sam didn’t mind, he was too distracted by Luke’s closeness and willingness to touch.

Luke had one hand fisted into the fabric on the back of Sam's shirt. The fingers of his other hand had wormed their way into the spaces between Sam's shirt buttons. He'd curled his fingers inward to grasp the fabric and was now stroking his knuckles over the coarse hair of Sam's chest, distractedly playing with the hair by capturing it between his fingers and lightly tugging at it. 

Luke didn't even seem to consciously register what he was doing to Sam's chest hair. He had buried his head in the groove between Sam's neck and shoulder, breathing deep and heavy. The motions of his fingers inside Sam's shirt seemed repetitive enough to help calm him down further and keep him focused on something that wasn't self-loathing or embarrassment.

Sam tightened his hold on Luke and started to lightly rock the both of them from side to side. They basked in the silence for several minutes.

From time to time, it seemed to Sam that Luke made some attempts at starting to talk but had either not found the words or the courage to actually speak.

Just then, Sam felt and heard Luke taking in another deep breath, his shoulders tensing as though he was preparing to deliver some kind of explanation. Sam waited, and Luke stayed silent and tense. His fingers increased their nervous fidgeting on Sam’s sternum and Sam couldn’t help but tighten his hold on Luke, drawing him towards his body, showing him he was safe, here in Sam’s arms.

Sam kept waiting patiently. Maybe this time Luke would pull through and tell the other what was on his mind.

Sam’s patience should bear fruit.

"You know", Luke began, talking into Sam's skin, his warm breath ghosting over Sam’s neck, "it's mostly just you. When you praise me, I mean. Not so much with other people, but sometimes them too."

"Oh?", Sam raised his eyebrows, not fully grasping what Luke had wanted to tell him with this non-sequitur.

Seemingly steeling himself, Luke took another deep inhale, his voice, when he started speaking, was still timid, though.

"What I'm trying to say is, it's not just praise that makes me feel so strangely good and somehow utterly embarrassed at the same time but also the fact that you are the one praising me. When other people praise me, it feels good too, obviously, but with you it's different...better."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how to answer. All he managed was a very eloquent "Okay, ummm, yeah".

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

"No, don't be sorry, Luke. It's good. You are doing well, keep going."

"Saaammm", Luke whined, extricating his fingers from inside Sam’s shirt and boxing lightly against Sam’s ribcage.

"Sorry, that just slipped out", Sam apologised, "I'll try and stop."

"It's not your fault, Sam. I'm the freak here."

"Don't say that, Lukey...hey, look at me, yeah?", Sam said, voice gentle and coaxing. 

"Why am I so weird?", Luke whispered into the groove of Sam's neck, not even trying to look at Sam.

"You are not weird, Luke. And you are not a freak -or a dog- for wanting to be called a good boy. There are much weirder things to have than a praise kink. A closet full of red checkered shirts for example."

This made Luke chuckle and Sam smiled proudly at his successful distraction.

"You've got other stuff too, you idiot."

"Not my point, sweetheart", Sam replied. The endearment had slipped out unwittingly, but Luke didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he actually looked at Sam like he'd just handed him the most precious thing in the universe.

Sam flashed him a tiny smile and carefully took one of Luke's hands in his, lovingly stroking his thumb over Luke's knuckles.

"I like how you react to my words", Sam admitted, voice soft, looking directly into Luke's eyes, "And I love to make you feel good. Because, Luke, you deserve to feel good, you deserve to feel special."

“You think so?”, Luke asked, not sure he could trust these wonderful words.

"I do”, Sam answered with conviction, “And I'm really sorry that I gave you the impression that I was just teasing you with it. I stand by every praise I ever gave you. You are just so perfect to me, and I wanted to let you know. And it just felt like praising you was the best way to convey that. Maybe I approached it the wrong way and I am deeply sorry for making you feel like I didn't mean my words."

Luke looked at Sam, his smile still a bit watery and his eyes slightly puffy and red from his earlier breakdown. 

He looked beautiful.

“Thank you, Sam”, Luke said, “I somehow really needed to hear that.”

“Sure”, Sam smiled and bumped his shoulder against Luke’s, their normal camaraderie returning fairly easily.

“Just…one more thing, Luke…I’m not entirely sure how to continue from here, to be honest… should I just stop praising you and we go back to how it was before?”, Sam asked, praying to any higher power that might honour him with their presence, that Luke would object to this proposal.

“Please, don’t stop!”, Luke quickly cut down Sam’s suggestion and Sam felt relief flood his body.

“Alright. I don’t really want to stop either”, Sam confessed, “But we need some rules or something, because the way it is now is bound to cause trouble.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They both stared into nothing for several minutes, both contemplating how to best go about this.

“What if I hold back with the praises? At least in public. I mean, I’m still gonna tell you that you did good, but I should probably tone it down. It has been a bit much lately, hasn’t it?”

“Maybe”, Luke shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And in private…in private I can praise you to my heart’s content… and maybe do a bit more?” Sam grinned.

“That…that would actually be nice”, Luke admitted, grinning back.

“Okay, then we’ve got a deal”, Sam smiled at Luke and held out a hand for him to shake.

“We do”, Luke laughed, happiness clearly visible in his whole expression, as he grabbed Sam’s hand.

As soon as Sam felt Luke’s hand in his, he pulled on it, dragging Luke closer, making him fall onto Sam at the sudden movement. They tumbled sideways onto the sofa, Luke splayed on top of Sam. After the momentary shock had dissipated, Luke started laughing loudly, his whole body exuding happiness and contentment.

He’s back, Sam thought, happy at his successfully executed surprise attack, his heart and soul filled with pride and affection at seeing Luke so carefree again. He couldn’t help but join Luke in this uninhibited display of joy, laughing with him, chasing away all the bad feelings of the last hours and days. Together, like they were always meant to be.