Work Text:
Coy could feel the sunlight creeping across his back, warm and relaxing. Something he hadn’t felt in a while due to being an early riser, but he hadn’t woken up early today.
His eyes flutter open and he can feel something around his waist, and someone's hair in his face, and an arm under his head.
There were a lot of things that were not normal today.
“What the…” Coy mumbled, and looked down at the hair in his face.
A curly dark brown mop that certainly wasn’t his, because his was on his head, not in front of his face.
A vague grumble came from the hair in front of him, and Coy wasn’t awake enough to recognise the voice, so he just closed his eyes again.
He thought that he must have gone out and bagged a catch last night, because the bicep under his head was just perfectly big enough.
But the more he thought about it, the more he remembered just staying home and drinking with his friends.
So, who the hell was next to him?
Coy, painstakingly, opened his eyes again, he looked down to the arm around him for any defining characteristics.
It was just an arm, the guy looked like he worked out a bit and Coy decided that whoever it was, was worth keeping.
Another noise came out of the other man, and the mess of hair next to him rolled back, showing off a small earring.
Coy recognised it immediately, only one of his male friends wore earrings.
And the hair, the overgrown curly mullet he saw every single day.
How the hell did Anthony Po end up in his bed?
Coy thought for a few moments before looking at the room he was in, there were some guitars hanging on the wall, and he didn’t remember hanging them up.
Because it happened to not be his room, it was Anthony’s.
He rephrased his question.
How the hell did he end up in Anthony Po’s bed?
Coy took a deep breath and decided that enough was enough, he needed to get out before Anthony realised he was in his bed.
He carefully lifted Anthony’s arm, trying his hardest to wriggle out of his grasp without waking him.
Immediately, the arm tightened around him, pulling him even closer than before.
Coy froze, and Anthony made a displeased noise into his shoulder.
“No,” Anthony mumbled, almost nuzzling his face against Coy’s shoulder.
Coy glared at him, even if Anthony couldn’t see his face. “No?”
“No,” Anthony repeated, rubbing his thumb across Coy’s side.
That was all the explanation he was getting, so Coy decided to try to move again.
Anthony’s grip somehow tightened even further, pulling them chest-to-chest. “Stop,” Anthony whispered, voice raspy and tired.
“Anthony,” Coy nudged his shoulder, still trying to get out of his grasp.
He heard a small grunt come out of Anthony, and the stubborn grip around his waist briefly softened.
Coy took it as his chance, and he managed to sit up, before being pulled back down immediately.
“Anth, let go.” He lowered his head down to Anthony’s ear and whispered, trying to get his attention.
Anthony just buried his face further into the crook of Coy’s neck, and left him a light kiss.
Coy felt his face reddening and a small laugh came from Anthony.
Not a fully awake laugh though, more like he was still half asleep, and didn’t know what he was doing.
“Anthony,” Coy nudged him again.
“Hm?” Anthony mumbled against his neck, and Coy could feel his eyelashes flickering against his neck.
“Did you just kiss my neck?”
“No,” Anthony feigned innocence and left another small peck on his neck.
“You just did it again!” Coy nudged Anthony harder and he tightened his grip on him.
Anthony let out a quiet whine in protest, “stop moving.”
“You are literally holding me hostage.” Coy tapped the hand around his waist.
“You just did it again!” Coy nudged Anthony harder and he tightened his grip on him.
Anthony made a small noise into his shoulder, something between a complaint and a sigh, like the idea of moving was personally hatecriming him.
“Stop moving,” he mumbled.
“You are literally holding me hostage,” Coy said, even though he was still very much not getting out of bed.
“No I’m not.”
“You are.”
Anthony’s hand flexed slightly at Coy’s waist, like his body was only just waking up.
“Don’t leave,” he added, quieter this time.
Coy blinked at the ceiling, that was very uncharacteristic of Anthony Po.
“That isn’t a real reason.” Coy added.
“It is.” Anthony responded.
“It’s not.” Coy mumbled, getting a faint smell of Anthony’s shampoo.
“It is to me.”
Coy turned his head slightly, just enough to look down at him. Anthony’s face was half buried in his neck now, eyelashes brushing skin every time he blinked.
“You’re not awake enough for this,” Coy said.
“I’m awake enough.” Anthony grumbled, and stroked the bare skin showing on Coy’s waist.
“You just said don’t leave like… you’ll die if I leave… or something.”
Anthony hummed, as if he didn’t care what it sounded like, as long as it kept Coy in place.
For a second, Coy tried to move again, and he got exactly… nowhere.
The arm around his waist only loosened for half a breath before tightening again, like Anthony’s subconscious was watching and waiting for him in real time.
Coy let his head fall back onto the pillow. “This is insane,” he muttered.
“No,” Anthony said immediately, as if he was waiting to disagree with him.
Coy sighed, and just leaned back into Anthony’s bicep behind his head.
“Do you remember anything from last night?” Coy mumbled, bringing a hand up to play with Anthony’s hair.
He didn’t answer right away.
There was a moment where Coy was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep again, except then his hand shifted slightly, thumb dragging once against Coy’s side.
“Yeah,” Anthony said eventually.
“Yeah?” Coy questioned, flicking a piece of hair off of Anthony’s forehead.
“You followed me.” Anthony answered, shaking his head so the piece of hair falls back to where it was.
“I did not.” Coy muttered and flicked it back up.
“You did,” Anthony repeated, completely unbothered.
Coy stared at the ceiling harder, like it might offer some form of emotional support, like his Lexapro.
Anthony continued, voice slow and messy with sleep. “You said your room was lonely.”
Coy made a sound of protest, “That’s not what I would say.”
“You said it was haunted and lonely.” Anthony corrected.
Coy sighed and shook his head, trying to think of another answer.
“That sounds like me,” he admitted against his will.
Anthony gave a quiet, satisfied hum like that said everything.
Coy tried again. “How did I end up in your bed?”
This time Anthony took even longer to answer, and Coy was seconds away from assuming he’d fully fallen asleep when he finally spoke.
“You wouldn’t go to yours,” Anthony said, and Coy went to question him, unsure of what he was trying to explain. “That doesn’t explain it, you could’ve just… left me on the couch.”
“I tried to get you to go to the couch, you sat in the hallway, .” Anthony clarified.
Coy closed his eyes, “oh no.”
“You said it was too far,” Anthony murmured against Coy’s neck, leaving goosebumps behind.
“It’s literally across the hall.” Coy whined, embarrassed by how drunk he was.
“Yeah,” Anthony agreed softly, like that was not the point at all.
Then, even quieter, “so I brought you here.”
Coy didn’t respond right away. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because he had about twelve things to say and none of them were working well in his head.
Anthony shifted again, settling back into Coy’s neck, planting a small kiss in the crook of his neck.
His grip didn’t loosen this time, but it didn’t quite tighten either. It just stayed the same, warm and almost natural, like he’d done this dozens of times before.
Coy stared at him. “You are impossible,” he said finally.
“Mm,” Anthony agreed, already halfway gone again.
And then, like it was nothing, “don’t go.”
Coy didn’t move, and he didn’t answer either.
He just laid there while the sunlight kept crawling across the bed, slow and golden, like the sun isn’t going to explode one day.