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John wanted to throw-up. Now, this shouldn’t have been that surprising considering it was a constant feeling he had had for the past couple months.
He had wanted to throw-up when he heard about Hannah and Garrett (God, that was a big one), he wanted to throw-up every single time he saw them together afterwards, he wanted to throw-up when he had heard about his mom going back into rehab, and he wanted to throw-up when he heard about their drop in ranks after the game against St. A’s.
Right now though? Right now he wanted to throw-up because the man sitting across from him, his best friend of three years, had just told him something he’d never told anyone else except one person, and it just completely fucking wrecked him.
He repeated the words Garrett had said over and over in his head trying to understand how he hadn’t fucking seen it. Looking back, it had been pretty obvious.
“He’s just…intense.”
“He’s a pompous asshole.”
“He only cares about me winning.”
And it goes on and on and on. Every single thing had been a sign and John hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t seen what his best friend, hell, the person he’s been in love with for the better part of three years, had been going through.
Even worse, he had practically shoved Garrett right at the bastard. Insisting that he was his dad and that he ‘loved him anyway’, pressuring him to forgive and forget when it was nowhere near that simple. The fundraiser, the merch, the money, all of it. God, how many times had he called him ‘Phil Graham’s Son’?
Yeah, sure he hadn’t known, but he should have, right? He lived with man for fucks sake, knew him better than almost anyone, but he didn’t see it, or maybe he refused to, who knows.
Garrett should hate him. For all intents and purposes, he should hate him, god knows John did right now. But he didn’t, because he was right here in front of him, telling him all of this because he trusted John, and John…He wouldn’t make this about him, he fucking couldn’t.
He lifted his head from where it had been hanging ever since Garrett had told him and met his eyes. His breath hitched. Garrett looked…god he looked so vulnerable, like he had laid his heart in John's hand and trusted him not to squeeze it, but to hold it gently. John would be damned if he did anything else.
He thought about what to say for a second, but then he remembered the last thing Garrett had said and he knew exactly what to say.
“You’re not your dad, G.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, though that apparently didn’t stop Garrett from trying. He opened his mouth, but John beat him to the punch.
“No, stop it. You are nothing like him. Yeah sure, Phil Graham may biologically be your father, but you’re forgetting one thing. Elizabeth Graham is biologically your mother, and I may not have ever met her, but I can tell, see it clear as fucking day, that you are more her than him in all the best fucking ways.”
He paused for a second, watching how Garrett’s eyes became shiny and how he subsequently looked off to the side.
“Look, I’m sorry for all the things I said and did. Pushing you to talking to him, the fundraiser, calling you his son, all of it,” He chucked derogatorily, “I feel like such a fucking asshole.”
Garrett’s head practically snapped right back as soon as John finished speaking.
“What? No–dude, you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you, so you couldn’t have, none of that’s your fault.” Garret’s voice made it seem like that was the only acceptable truth, and it was sweet, if not untrue. He could still hear Garrett yelling at him at Malone’s during the fundraiser clear as day, not that he blamed him. Still, John wasn’t going to say any of that, wasn’t going to make it all about him again.
He walked around the kitchen counter, putting on a small smile, his hands raised in surrender.
“All right, I got it buddy. Not my fault, aye aye Captain,” he said while mock saluting, now standing in front of Garrett, who was still sitting. The joke got a small laugh out of Garrett, the first one John had seen from him in what seemed like weeks. John's smile grew bigger in turn.
Things fell silent between them for a couple minutes after, nothing said, just them staring at each other softly. The longer he looked at Garrett, the more John felt the same longing he had felt for so long now creep into his heart and twist it. His chest tightened and he looked away.
Trying to think about other things, John found that he still had one question. He cleared his throat, and tentatively asked, “Does this have anything to do with what happened at the Saint A’s game or why you broke up with Wellsy?”
Garrett’s face twisted and John caught a glimpse of anger and, was that—shame?, in his eyes, but they were gone as quick as they came.
“Yeah, uh, it had something to do with it,” Garrett sighed, “it really isn’t my story to tell.”
John nodded, he understood that. He'd connected the dots that it probably had something to Hannah, but he respected her privacy.
Again, silence fell between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable or tense like things had been the past couple weeks, but easy, and just them.
John was looking somewhere far off, arms on the surface top and leaning against the counter, enjoying the fact that they could be like this again, even if he wanted more, he would take what he could get. He’d been doing that for the past couple years.
Since John's gaze was elsewhere, he didn’t notice how Garrett was watching him, his eyes tracing over every inch of John's face, and he definitely didn’t notice the moment Garrett made his decision. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and cleared his throat, pulling John's eyes back to him.
Garrett opened and closed his mouth a couple times before frustratedly shaking head. He had no idea how to go about this. He pursed his lips, his face pensive, and all the while John just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, both amused and confused.
In the end Garrett just decided to go for it. It might be a total disaster and he might lose his best friend in the whole world, and that totally wouldn’t ruin him completely, but yeah, no, he could do this. Plus, Hannah had basically made him swear at the rink earlier that he’d do it sometime soon. Better sooner than later, right?
“That thing that I can’t really talk about isn’t the only reason I broke up with Wellsy,” He paused, “I mean well, yeah, there’s the whole my dad thing, and all that, and at the moment those were probably the biggest driving forces, but there was something else, something more?” He said, sounding unsure. John just stared on, and tried to pat down the annoying hope that kept sparking in his chest.
“Yeah, something more,” Garrett continued with more confidence, “it was kinda underlying throughout our whole relationship and like, it’s been here for a while, for a couple of years really. And I was such an asshole to Wellsy because I went into a relationship with her knowing about this thing, but if I’m being honest, it’s because I never really wanted to acknowledge it, at least not fully, because…I thought I could never have it. But then today at the rink, Wellsy came and talked some sense into me. God, she’s an angel, wouldn’t you know it. She did call me a few choice words, which I did deserve, but she encouraged me to go after what I want, and like seriously–,”
“G,” John cut him off, hope now practically blazing throughout his body, and making him feel slightly giddy, but he thought he did a good job of not letting it show. He couldn’t, not yet, not until he knew they were on the same page and he wasn’t misreading all of this.
“What exactly are you saying?” John asked, his voice slightly shaky, and Garrett, taking a couple breaths to recover from his rant, was finally able to see the look in John's eyes, and despite what John thought, the barely disguised giddiness. He grinned.
Garrett stood, crowded into John's space, pressed him back against the counter, placing his hands on the kitchen top on either side of him, and slowly leaned in.
“I’m saying,” Garrett said, so close to John that their lips brushed when he spoke, “John Logan, that I love you.” He had for so many years that he didn’t feel the need to wait any longer to say it.
John stared at him, his heart beating out of his chest, a wide grin spread across his face, and took a miniscule step forward, their chests now fully touching.
“I love you too,” He said, before leaning in and closing that final inch of distance between them. It was like something had finally clicked into place as their lips connected, a missing puzzle piece. John felt Garrett’s hands fall to his waist, and his own found purchase on Garrett’s biceps. Contrary to all the talk John had heard, Garrett wasn’t rough, but instead gentle, moving his lips against John's slowly and sensually. He got lost in the kiss for a while, and barely startled when he felt Garrett’s tongue brush against his lips, he just parted them, and let out a soft moan at the feeling.
Unfortunately, he had to breathe at some point so he pulled back and rested his forehead against Garrett’s. Their eyes met and they both grinned, feeling over the moon. Letting out a chuckle, John brushed his lips across Garrett’s jaw, pressing light kisses there, before wandering down to his neck and sucking tiny bruises on his skin. His hands wandered under Garrett’s jacket and shirt to caress his abs at the same time. Garrett groaned, soft, throwing his head back, and pushing into John's wandering touch at the same time.
John's hands had just reached Garrett’s belt buckle when a cough from the direction the stairs startled the two apart.
They turned and found Dean and Tucker staring at them. Dean with a grin that just called for mischief and Tucker with a face that read that he was semi-disappointed and semi-happy for them at the same time.
“Well, well, well. Took you two long enough, if I had to deal with any more longing stares while the other wasn’t looking for another semester, I’m pretty sure I would’ve thrown myself off the roof.” Dean said, as he walked closer and lifted himself onto the counter next to the two, still grinning. Tucker, a bit more civilized, took a seat at one of the stools.
“This doesn’t mean you two are gonna make out all the time now right? Cause there’s already enough that from Dean.”
“I’m offended,” Dean responded.
“No, you’re not,” the other three said in unison.
“No, I’m not,” Dean conceded, laughing. “No, but seriously, we’re happy for you two. This whole fighting thing has thrown everyone off balance, we’re glad it’s over, and that you two are over yourselves.”
“Thanks guys,” John said, he knew their friends wouldn’t have a problem with them, but their support was awesome anyway.
“Oh shiiiit,” Tucker said suddenly, “Jules is gonna be so pissed they missed this.”
“No one said Jules had to know just yet Tucker–Dean, what are you doing! Stop it!” Garrett yelled, reaching for Dean’s phone only for Dean to pull it out of his reach at the last second.
“Hey, they’ve got to know, how else is Fifth Line gonna stay up to date with all the latest news,” Dean teased, running off to call Jules and practically dragging Tucker with him, laughing all the way.
Garrett sighed, staring after them for a second before dropping his head on John's shoulder.
“G, Jules knowing isn’t that bad,” John chuckled, his voice muffled slightly from where it was buried in Garrett’s curly hair.
“I knowwww,” Garrett all but whined, something John was pretty sure he had never heard him do, “but that means they’re gonna be here in like five minutes and we’re gonna be bombarded with questions and not left alone for hours.”
“Oh? And what exactly did you have planned for when we’re alone, dear sir?” John asked, a smile growing on his face.
Garrett lifted his head and had a wicked grin on his face. He leaned and whispered into John's ear. When he pulled back, John had a grin to match.
“I’m pretty sure five minutes is plenty of time for at least one of those things.” John said, spinning around so that he now had Garrett pressed against the counter. He leaned for a kiss, and another, and another, and another. He still couldn’t believe he could do this now, after basically three years of yearning for something he thought was so out of his reach. Well, it was right in front of his face now, and damned if he was gonna let it slip by, John thought and once again smiled as he dropped to his knees.