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"Bro. Don't look now, but that girl's been checking you out for the last fifteen minutes."
"'Swawesome," Ransom said, keeping his eyes on his phone.
Holster frowned. "Dude. When I said 'don't look now,' I didn't mean for you to actually not look."
Ransom shrugged. "I don't really feel like hooking up tonight, man."
Holster squinted at his best friend. "You 'haven't felt like hooking up' for the last three months, Rans. I thought you said your breakup with March was mutual?"
"It was," Ransom insisted, but Holster wasn't convinced. Three months was a lot in college time, and a guy as attractive as Ransom wouldn't be having any trouble getting a date unless he didn't want one. Which meant…
"Are you still upset about it?"
"No."
"Then there's no reason for you not to let me hook you up, is there?"
Ransom probably thought he looked casual, but Holster knew his best friend. He could see the way Ransom's fingers tightened around his phone case at Holster's question. So when he said, "Guess not," Holster didn't waste a moment in slinging an arm around Ransom's shoulders and steering him towards the girl he'd noticed. Ransom was an amazing guy. He deserved to have a nice time.
Of course, Holster would have really liked to be the one showing Ransom a nice time… but that was beside the point.
"Hey," he said, nudging Ransom until he looked up from his phone and grudgingly greeted the girl as well. Holster really didn't know why Ransom was so reluctant to meet her. She was blonde and tall and gorgeous, which he knew for a fact was precisely Ransom's type. "Enjoying the party so far?"
"Oh yeah," she said with a smile. "The Haus always throws a good kegster. You two are the captains this year, right?"
He nodded. "I'm Adam, and this is Justin."
"Nice to meet you! I'm Elaine, and—oh, hey, Mickey, I'm over here!"
Elaine waved, and an equally tall girl wearing impressively ripped skinny jeans even darker than her hair and skin made her way across the crowd with a solo cup in each hand. She handed one off to Elaine as Elaine introduced Ransom and Holster to her.
After that, Holster was sort of… stuck.
Michelle was nice enough, and he was glad that Elaine hadn't come to the party alone. But he couldn't very well try to set Ransom up with her and leave Michelle feeling slighted. Part of him wanted to leave the conversation as just that—a random meet-and-greet at a party—and haul Ransom off to watch 30 Rock in the attic, but then he watched Ransom laugh after Elaine told him off for assuming that field hockey was the same thing as lacrosse, and he knew he couldn't let a moment like this pass by. She could hold her tub juice, looked cute in glasses, and wasn't afraid to interrupt Ransom halfway through his vehement attempt to say "fuuUCCCCKKKKK THE LAX BROS." A girl like that didn't come along every day. Besides, Ransom had told Holster he was fine with getting set up tonight. Holster didn't know if the same would be true in a day or two. This was his best chance at fulfilling his best bro duties, and he cared about Ransom too much to miss the opportunity.
So when people started trickling out of the Haus at ass o'clock in the morning, Holster cleared his throat and said, "Do you two wanna go on a double date with me and Rans next Friday?"
Chill. Casual. Making sure to smile at Michelle as he said it.
And if his heart broke a little when she said "Sure!" and Elaine nodded along enthusiastically, then that was a minor detail. He could go on a double date with his best friend and feel his heart break as Ransom fell for a pretty blonde girl who was great at sports and had an excellent sense of humor. It'd be fine.
After all, he'd done it before.
"This is stupid," Ransom grumbled as Holster looked his outfit over with a critical eye. "This isn't going to go anywhere."
"You don't know that," Holster countered. "It's how we met March, isn't it?" Ransom winced, and Holster mentally facepalmed. What kind of best friend was he if he couldn't even avoid talking about Ransom's ex right before his first post-breakup date? "Fuck. Fuck, Rans, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about how this was the same situation as… Look, I can tell Michelle we had to cancel. It's fine."
Ransom looked at him, brown eyes forlorn and hopelessly gorgeous, and sighed. "No, don't cancel. You've been looking forward to this date all week."
The truth was, Holster had been dreading this date all week, but he didn't say that. "Because it'll be good for you, bro," he insisted instead. "Elaine was totally into you. It'll be fine."
"Not as into you as Michelle was," Ransom muttered, the look on his face difficult to decipher. Which was confusing, because after almost four years of being best friends, Holster hadn't thought any of Ransom's facial expressions could be difficult to decipher. Maybe he was jealous because he thought Holster would have more fun on the date than he would?
The total irony was almost enough to make Holster laugh.
"That's a lie, bro," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to do. "How could anyone not be into you? I mean. Look at yourself."
Ransom managed a grin at that. "You mean you approve of the red pants?"
"I'll never approve of the red pants," Holster declared, "but your ass is good enough to make up for them. And at least your shirt is decent."
"That's because I stole it from you," Ransom informed him, and Holster firmly ignored how that bit of information made his heart jump in his chest. "Let's go."
Holster forced Ransom to leave the attic first so he could make sure that Ransom didn't retreat to his bunk bed while Holster was still on the stairs. But that turned out to be a terrible idea, because Ransom had shrunk his red pants in the wash last month and—
Well.
Fuck.
It helped that Elaine and Michelle seemed to be as close as Ransom and Holster were. They showed up at Ransom's favorite sushi restaurant a few minutes after Ransom and Holster did, holding hands and laughing at each other, and they sat together on the other side of the booth the waiter brought them to, which Holster could appreciate because he and Ransom had a system. Holster sat on the inside so he didn't have to worry about knocking Ransom's arm while they ate, and Ransom sat on the outside because his bladder was the size of a hockey puck. It was always awkward when the girls they were going on a date with tried to mess with the system.
They also ordered for each other, which made Holster feel less weird about ordering for Ransom because Ransom loved sushi but couldn't pronounce any of the names and didn't want to butcher them. (The first time he had to do this, Holster chirped him because his last name was Oluransi, for fuck's sake. The second time, Ransom called him "Beerkhahltz" for the entire night in retaliation. There was no chirping the third time.) Honestly, the lack of expectation was really nice. Michelle seemed content to chat about field hockey—she was on the team with Elaine, as it turned out—and her architecture classes over her glass of water without actually moving her glass out of the way to take Holster's hand. Elaine didn't look offended when Ransom got really into chirping Chowder in the SMH group chat and showed all of his insults to Holster before Elaine. Holster hadn't been on a double date this comfortable for a long time.
Things didn't get weird until Elaine grabbed Michelle's hand, toyed with one of the many rings on her index finger, smiled at her, and pressed a kiss to the junction of her jaw and neck. Michelle squirmed away, laughing, and said, "Elaine, I told you to keep the PDA to a minimum."
Elaine made a face. "This is a minimum."
Michelle stuck her tongue out in retaliation and pointedly turned back to Holster. "Sorry my girlfriend is so disgusting," she said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "So how long have you two been together?"
Holster blinked. Then he looked at Elaine and Michelle's hands and blinked again. "Uh, Ransy?"
Ransom seemed as shocked as Holster felt. "Yeah, Holtzy?"
"Can you let me out? I need to pee."
In all of their years of friendship, Holster had never once asked Ransom to move so he could go to the bathroom. He felt it was his duty as inside-booth-sitter to hold it until after they'd paid. Only in the most dire cases had he gotten out during dinner, and even then he'd climbed over his best friend instead of asking him to move. But this was a special case, and Holster didn't know what else to do.
Fortunately, Ransom and Holster weren't best friends for nothing. "Sure, bro," Ransom said easily, sliding out of the booth. "Actually, I'm going to come too. I did down like two glasses of water in the last three minutes."
Holster was 0.5 seconds away from asking Michelle and Elaine if it was all right to leave them alone when he remembered that a) this wasn't actually the kind of double date he'd thought it was, and b) Elaine was still leaning her head against Michelle's shoulder. He really didn't think they'd mind.
"'Swawesome," he said instead, and followed Ransom to the bathroom.
"Dude," Ransom said as soon as the door swung closed behind both of them. (Even though the bathroom was a single, which meant that it wasn't normal for two guys to enter it together, which meant that Elaine and Michelle probably thought they'd gone in there to make out, which meant that—Holster cut off that train of thought as quickly as he could.) "Holy shit?"
"I know," Holster said. "I know. Fuck, Shitty would so lay into us for being heteronormative if he heard about this."
Ransom nodded.
"We'd deserve it, too," Holster added. "I mean, fuck. They showed up holding hands. How much clearer can you get?"
"Not much."
Caught up in self-examination, Holster remembered suddenly that this was supposed to be the date that brought Ransom out of his post-breakup slump, and his shoulders stiffened. "Oh, bro, I'm sorry."
Ransom's eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"
"Being a shitty wingman."
Ransom's eyebrows stayed furrowed for just a second longer, and then he laughed. "No, don't worry about it. Actually, I'm glad it's working out this way. Elaine wasn't really my type."
"Yes, she was," Holster said with a frown. But one look from Ransom, and he changed the subject. "So what do we do now?"
Ransom tapped his fingernails against the rim of the sink. "Well, we can't exactly tell them that we didn't know they were dating."
Holster nodded. "That'd be some next-level gal pals bullshit."
"So do we just—"
"—go along with it?"
Ransom looked at Holster.
Holster looked at Ransom.
"Well, bro," Ransom said finally, "wanna go on a date with me?"
It wasn't the way Holster had envisioned finally getting a date with his d-man partner.
(Not that he'd ever envisioned getting a date with his d-man partner, because what they had was fucking good enough already, and it wasn't like romantic relationships were any better or worse than platonic ones, or any more important, and he was happy with Ransom as his best friend, he really was, and he didn't need anything else.)
It wasn't the way Holster had envisioned finally getting a date with his d-man partner, but it was fun anyway.
Ransom tangled his fingers with Holster's on their way back to the booth, and Holster let his arm swing over Ransom's shoulders after they slid into their seats.
Michelle glanced at them with amusement. "Do you two always go to the bathroom together?"
"Pretty much," Holster said, the tips of his fingers brushing the buzzed hair at the nape of Ransom's neck, and it wasn't even a lie. "Justin has a shy bladder."
Ransom flicked him in the shoulder. "Bro."
"But—wouldn't that—wouldn't you rather go alone, then?" Elaine asked, a layer of genuine curiosity audible underneath her amusement.
Ransom shuddered and shook his head.
"I scare off anyone who tries to get in while he's busy," Holster explained.
"Bro."
The girlfriends laughed in unison. Holster couldn’t decide if it was adorable or unnerving. "Okay, but you avoided the question," Michelle pressed. "How did you two get together?"
Underneath the table, Holster nudged Ransom's thigh with his knee. Ransom nudged him right back. Holster took a deep breath. "So it was Palentine's Day—"
"Valentine's Day?"
"Palentine's," Ransom corrected, like he actually knew where Holster was going with this.
"Palentine's," Holster agreed. "Gotta love that no-homo hockey culture. Anyway, it was Palentine's Day of our junior year, and we were doing our normal random bro stuff to celebrate—"
"—watching Fight Club, going to the gym, begging Bitty for pie…"
"It was 'swawesome."
"Chyeah."
"But then right after we finished a sick game of Mario Kart—"
"—I won—"
"—he did," Holster conceded. "And all his celebrating was getting annoying, so I took a pie break. When I came back, Ransom had this present in his hands. And it had, like, wrapping paper with hearts on it and a giant red bow and everything. It was the most fucking beautiful present I'd ever seen in my life."
"That's only because you wrap all your presents in paper bags," Ransom muttered.
"It was the most fucking beautiful present I'd ever seen in my life," Holster insisted. "And when I opened it, he'd bought me Season 2 of 30 Rock."
Michelle blinked.
Elaine said, "Um… congratulations?"
"You don't understand," Holster said. "I have the complete box set of 30 Rock, all right? It's the best fucking show, of course I have the full box set."
"Even though it's all on Netflix," Ransom interjected, looking mildly uncomfortable, just like he always did whenever Holster complimented him.
So, just like he always did, Holster plowed through anyway. "It's not the same, bro. Netflix could remove the show at any time. I can't risk it. Anyway, I had the complete set, but when I brought all my stuff down to Samwell to move in at the beginning of the year, I couldn't find season two. It wasn't in the box, it wasn't in any of the boxes, and it wasn't at my house when I went back for Christmas either."
"He cried for two days straight," Ransom said, because even when he was uncomfortable, he never missed an opportunity to chirp Holster.
"Damn right I did," Holster said. "It was a goddamn tragedy. I figured my set would never be the same, because the box set DVD covers never match the single DVD covers, but then Ransom had to come along on fucking Palentine's Day with the exact version that I needed. He bought it from a dude on Craigslist! Do you know how crazy that is? Ransom hates Craigslist!"
"It's dangerous. Anyone could be anyone. That guy could have been a serial killer."
"I know," Holster said, his eyes shining. "And you bought the DVD from him anyway."
Elaine leaned forward in her seat, elbows on the table, hands cupping her chin. "So what happened next? Did you kiss him?"
"No," Ransom said. "He cried for three days straight."
Holster squeezed Ransom's shoulder in a silent question, and Ransom's fingers tapped Holster's thigh in a silent answer. "I did," he admitted. "And then I kissed him."
Ransom shook his head. "I didn't even know he was bi."
"Dude," Holster said. "Seriously? I'm not subtle about it. I talk about Jack's hockey ass all the time."
"But you've never dated a guy here. You've never even told me you hooked up with one."
There was something like accusation in Ransom's voice, which didn't mesh with the story they'd presented to the girls so far. It made Holster's voice come out too soft—too genuine—when he said, "That's because I already had the only guy I wanted at Samwell."
Ransom's mouth dropped open. His leg went still underneath the table. His fingers were wrapped tight around Holster's hand when he said, "Holster—"
And the servers were there with their trays of sushi.
Holster had never loved and hated the quick service at Amaterasu's with such fervor. It was probably for the best that they were interrupted, but—but the way Ransom had said his name.
Holster dipped his sushi in wasabi and let the burn serve as an excuse for the heat rising to his face.
By the time he could breathe again, Ransom was twirling his chopsticks in his fingers and saying, "All right, we told you our story. Come on. How'd you two get together?"
Elaine grinned.
Michelle blushed. "No. No, God, please don't tell them that story."
"You asked us first," Holster pointed out, ignoring the way his stomach wouldn't stop clenching every time he glanced at Ransom. It was making it really fucking difficult to eat his sushi. "I think we deserve this."
"I think you do too," Elaine said gleefully. "Okay, so Michelle came to visit me last summer, and I have this horse named Tequila…"
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of jokes and chirping and enthusiastic storytelling, and it was still the most comfortable date Holster had ever been on.
(Every time Ransom's arm brushed his while they ate, Holster felt like he'd been checked hard into the wall at Faber, but he'd felt like that for years, so he was used to it by now.)
In fact, it was so comfortable that after they each paid for their own dinner ("because fuck societal expectations," as Michelle had said), they decided to wander into the nearby ice cream parlor instead of splitting up right away. Holster led the way, dragging Ransom along by the hand in his quest to reach the shop first.
"Bro, five scoops?" Ransom said after Holster had rattled off a list of ice cream flavors. "Are you serious? You've already eaten three pieces of pie today."
"Oh, come on," Holster said. "I had to get five scoops. You can't look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn't have disowned me if I dared to get us cookies and cream without also ordering peach cobbler."
"Wait. Are we sharing?"
Holster tried not to gape too obviously. Honestly, he did, but—"Are we sharing? Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"Bro," Holster said, trying not to sound offended. "I can't even remember the last time we went here and didn’t share. Why would you even ask that?"
In response, Ransom held up their linked hands.
And that was worse than brushing Ransom's arm during dinner; that hit Holster like a check to the ice, cold and unexpected and unforgiving and painful. Because Ransom was acting like they were still putting on a show for Michelle and Elaine, and Holster… Holster had grabbed Ransom's hand because he'd wanted to. Not because the two girls could see.
He swallowed. "Well," he said, careful to keep his voice from coming out raw, "I'm pretty sure couples share ice cream sundaes too. And I already ordered it, so as long as you don't mind…"
"Nah, bro, of course I don't mind," Ransom said quickly, gripping Holster's hand tighter. "As long as you don't mind."
"Never," Holster said, with maybe a little more force than was necessary, and pulled Ransom over to the counter so he could pay.
(Which was absurdly difficult with only one hand, but there was no way in hell he was going to let go of Ransom's hand after that.)
It was the most comfortable date Holster had ever been on—so of course it all had to go to shit.
Now that he knew Michelle and Elaine were dating, Holster stopped bothering with Proper Date Manners, and in order to keep up with the pace at which their sundae was rapidly disappearing, Ransom did the same. As a result, Elaine was looking at them with a mixture of disgust and fascination by the time they finished licking the bowl clean. "How did you... it just…" She gave up. "How?"
Holster shrugged. "We're hockey players."
"Yeah, Elaine, they're hockey players." Michelle parroted his words, laughing. The look on her face was much closer to fascination than disgust. "If you were 6'4", you could probably polish off a sundae that size too."
"What?" Elaine said, arching an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not tall enough for you?"
"Nope," she said cheerfully. "But it's okay, babe, that's what heels are for."
"I don't know what you're chirping us for," Ransom pointed out. "Michelle, you must have finished way before us."
"True." Holster jumped in. "You don't even have a bowl anymore!"
"That's because I didn't order anything," she scoffed.
"What? Why? Is chain-store ice cream beneath your standards? Are you a gelato person?"
She snorted. "I'm a lactose-intolerant person."
"…What?" he said again. "Why'd you let us drag you in here then?! Milk is everywhere. You could've—"
"Dude, it's not like she's gonna go into anaphylactic shock," Ransom interrupted, the hint of a smirk tugging at his stupidly perfect mouth. "Lactose intolerance isn't an allergy."
"I know that," Holster said indignantly, "but that doesn't mean she wants to be surrounded by lactose! Where are your manners?"
"So now you care about manners?" Elaine rolled her eyes. "Truly a fine specimen of the cis male gender. Almost makes me wish I was straight."
Michelle nudged her, still smirking. "Be nice, Elaine, he's trying."
"You? Telling me? To be nice? Does. Not. Compute."
"Shut up," Michelle grinned.
"See? This is what I'm talking abou—"
"Anyway," Michelle interrupted, "it's nice of you to be concerned, Holster, but I don't actually mind being surrounded by lactose. Besides, once the words 'ice cream' came out of Ransom's mouth and I saw your face, I knew there was no way we could stop you."
"Plus," Elaine added, eyes sparkling, "I love lactose."
"Still," Holster frowned, "we should do something you want to do now. Since we ignored your vote last time. Rans and I'll even pay."
"Like hell I will," Ransom said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a broke-ass college student who still has four years of med school debt ahead of me."
"I'll even pay," Holster amended.
"You hitting on my girlfriend, Adam?" Elaine teased.
Holster pointedly ignored the half-snort, half-choking sound Ransom was making, even though it sounded suspiciously like she got you there, bro. "It's like I said," he said stubbornly. "Manners."
"You don't have to pay," Michelle said, "but one of my art school friends did tell me that last week the used bookstore down the block got a shit-ton of early-edition classic novels from an old lady moving into a smaller apartment."
Holster narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean by 'classic novels?'"
"By classic novels I mean 19th-century Romantic garbage, and by garbage I mean unadulterated beauty," Michelle clarified. "I'm talking Jane Austen here. Emma. Northanger Abbey. Sense and Sensibility. Other beautiful books from the same time period. They might even have Jane Eyre if we get there fast enough."
"No." Holster's eyes widened. "Fuck. We're going right now."
He latched onto Ransom's wrist and practically yanked him out of the ice cream shop. Ransom just barely managed to toss their trash in a bin before Holster let the door slam shut on his face.
Vaguely, he heard Elaine and Michelle following close behind them, laughing their asses off. "So your significant other is stuck in the 1800s too, huh?" Elaine was saying.
"Unabashedly," Ransom agreed, that stupid smirk gracing his face again, like he knew exactly how obnoxious he was being—which, to be fair, he probably did.
"Seriously, dude?" Holster said, slowing his pace down a fraction so he could lift his eyebrows at his boyf—at his Ran—damn it, at Ransom. "Unabashedly?"
"If you're going to be stuck in the 1800s, I might as well be too," he said, unrepentant.
"Listen, Jane Austen is timeless," Holster said. "If you'd stop complaining and watch the Lizzie Bennet Diaries with me, you'd know what I mean."
"Oh my fuck," Michelle yelled, "I love the Lizzie Bennet Diaries!"
"Oh no," Elaine said. "Here we go." She untangled her fingers from Michelle's and shoved her in Holster's general direction. "You've gotten her started on that show, so now you have to listen to her talk about it. 'Clear as day, Lizzie Bennet' is basically her catchphrase at this point, and I've heard her say it enough for several lifetimes, no matter how timeless Jane Austen might be. Got it?"
Holster looked at Michelle and found her already grinning back at him.
"Clear as day, Lizzie Bennet!" they chorused in unison.
"Oh, God," Ransom said. "Yup. I'm out of here too."
"Cool," Elaine said. "Wanna go to the sci-fi section and make fun of our significant others from out of hearing range?"
"Sounds good," Ransom smiled.
After that, Holster tried to keep up with Michelle's unfailing enthusiasm for what was, admittedly, a show only a few slots behind 30 Rock on Holster's list of obsessions. He tried to nod at the right places and inject his own theories when they were pertinent.
He tried not to fixate on the memory of Ransom's easy smile when Elaine had called Holster his significant other. He tried not to fixate on sounds good.
And he thought he was succeeding pretty well, up until Michelle stopped halfway through her impression of Lizzie's impression of Robot Darcy to say, "You know, if you're really attempting to pull off this whole fake-dating scheme, you should try to keep the pining looks to a minimum."
While physically ripping his gaze away from where Ransom and Elaine were giggling over ugly, obscure comic books, Holster nearly knocked over the shelf of early-edition classics that he'd been admiring just moments ago. "I don't"—he spluttered—"what you're—we're not—I mean—"
"Adam," Michelle chuckled, "it's pretty obvious that you and Justin aren't actually dating."
Holster caught himself just before he really did topple a bookshelf. "Wait. Really?"
"I mean, yeah. Ransom looked genuinely surprised when you confirmed that you were bi. Also, a couple doesn't usually ask another couple out on a double date after only knowing them for half an hour."
Holster frowned. Then nodded. Then frowned again. "But… then why didn't you say anything that night?"
"I was drunk as hell and mostly thinking about how much I wanted to fuck my girlfriend," Michelle said frankly. "I didn't understand the implications of your wording until the next morning. And then Elaine and I discussed it, and we agreed that you probably hadn't meant anything offensive by it. We figured we'd go to the restaurant and be blatantly couple-y until you got the hint." The slightest smile crossed her face. "To be fair, I hadn't expected Elaine to have to kiss me before you figured it out."
Holster flushed from the tips of his cropped hair to the hood of his Samwell sweatshirt. "Michelle, we're really sorry about that. We didn't mean to be so heteronormative, and—"
She held up a hand to stop him. "Adam," she said, "it's fine. Seriously. We weren't mad. I just asked you how long you two had been together because the look on your face was hilarious, and I figured it would only get funnier when you two attempted to 'no homo' your way out of my question." The tiniest crease appeared between her eyebrows, turning her smile thoughtful. "I didn't expect you two to just… go along with it."
"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Well. Um. I'm glad that's all figured out. I'm sorry for how awkward we made this, and I hope we didn’t scare you off? You're both hella cool, and we'd love to hang out again—just, like, not as a double date next time because obviously—"
"Adam," she said, "stop."
Holster stopped. "What?"
Her eyes were piercing. "I know you and Justin aren't dating, but you really should be."
He froze. "Are we having the same conversation? Are you listening to me? Because I literally just confirmed that Ransom and I are totes platon—"
"No, you listen," she insisted, sounding so much like Lardo that doing what she said was instinctual. "Elaine and I didn't understand why you two didn't realize that we were dating sooner, but watching you tonight, I realized that you were oblivious because you two act the exact same way. I mean, God, you were more convincing than some actual couples I know. The way you ordered for Ransom was adorable, and your getting-together story? It sounded like something that actually happened."
Holster hunched his shoulders. "That's because it did."
She nodded. "That's what I figured. Except for the kiss, right?"
"Well…"
"Adam."
"I did kiss him after crying for three days straight," he admitted. "Platonically. On the cheek. Out of gratitude."
"Holy shit, Adam," she said, somewhere between delighted and horrified. "Are you serious?"
He nodded.
"And you're not already dating?"
He shook his head.
She punched him in the shoulder. (Harder than he deserved, Holster thought ruefully, rubbing at the sore spot.) "Adam, you and that boy are closer than anyone else I know. You're basically a happily married couple, minus the kissing and sex. I don't know why you aren't dating yet, but I do know that there's absolutely no reason you shouldn't be. If you don't go after him and fix this right now, then I will lose any and all hope for the whole concept of relationships and romantic endeavors."
He frowned at her. "Romantic endeavors? This isn't real-life Jane Austen, Mickey. You don't have any proof that Ransom likes me back. And I'm not about to fuck up the best friendship I've ever had in my life by dumping feelings at his feet and expecting him to accept them."
"I know that," Michelle said, more serious than he'd ever heard her. "But don't you think it might be just as much of a fuck-up to avoid starting the best relationship of your life because you're worried about the repercussions?"
Holster swallowed. "I just…"
"That's what I thought. Besides," she added, her cheeky smile returning at full force, "the boy went on Craigslist for you. You can't get a declaration of love stronger than that."
"But what if—"
"Babe, time to go!" Michelle announced suddenly, snagging an ancient copy of Pride and Prejudice and slipping an arm around Elaine's waist before Holster had a chance to protest again. "I just remembered that I have a calc test tomorrow."
"It's Friday," Ransom said, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Did I say calc test?" Michelle asked brightly. "I meant 'I'm pretty sure I just started my period and I didn't bring my purse, please take me to buy tampons, my totes platonic gal pal bestie.'"
Holster was pretty sure the way Michelle's voice dropped in pitch when she said "totes platonic" wasn't an accident. He glared at her.
She grinned back at him. "Either way, unless you two want to add 'tampon shopping' to your list of fun double date activities, my statement stands. Babe, time to go!"
"Yeah, yeah, we're going," Elaine said, rolling her eyes in a way that convinced Holster that she knew the real reason Michelle wanted to ditch him and Ransom. Then, just to confirm his suspicions, she offered up a smile that matched her girlfriend's in deviousness and said, "This was really fun, boys! Let's do it again sometime."
It took Michelle approximately thirty seconds to purchase Pride and Prejudice, as well as the weird comic book Elaine was still holding, and then they were gone.
"Um…" Ransom said.
"Um," Holster agreed, because his mind was still reeling. I mean, God, Michelle had said, you were more convincing than some actual couples I know.
"Back to the attic?" Ransom asked, snapping Holster out of his thoughts. "Or did you want to keep looking at used romance novels?"
Holster wasn't sure whether to attribute it to his consumption of raw fish or Michelle's half-sarcastic pep talk, but he almost took the opening. I'd rather be in a used romance novel, bro. With you. It was cheesy, and horrible, and easy to turn into a joke if Ransom took it that way, and Holster still opened his mouth to say, "Nah, let's go back to the attic," instead.
Ransom nodded, and they started walking to the Haus together, shoulders brushing as usual. Holster looked down. Tangling his fingers with Ransom's would've been so easy. Leaning over to whisper I'm in love with you in Ransom's ear would've been so easy. It all would've been so easy, but the fallout wouldn't be easy, so Holster just shoved his hands into his pockets and said, "That was pretty wild."
"Yeah," Ransom agreed. "Fun, though. Elaine and Michelle are cool."
A lot cooler once I realized neither of them wanted to date you. "I can't believe we didn't meet them before this year. They must've come to other kegsters."
"Maybe we were less heteronormative at those kegsters," Ransom suggested with a grin, "and actually realized that they were together."
If I were any less heteronormative, I would have kissed you when we were frogs.
Fuck, Holster really needed to silence his inner monologue. This was the wrong way to approach this conversation. He couldn't ask Ransom on a date when they were technically still on one. He couldn't—"I've started looking for a job. You know, post-graduation."
Fuck.
"Yeah, I know," Ransom said, eyes warm and teasing. "You complain about the applications every few hours."
"I thought I was done with 200-word essays about my life achievements after I got into Samwell," Holster replied, automatic. "But… that's not why I brought it up."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I…" He took a deep breath. "I narrowed my search to the Baltimore area after you told me that Johns Hopkins was your top choice for med school."
"Oh," Ransom said again. "Holster, that's nice and all, but you really shouldn't do that."
Holster felt like throwing up, and it wasn't just because of the five scoops of ice cream. "I… I shouldn't?"
"Fuck no," Ransom said. "Holster, the chances of me getting into Johns Hopkins are, like, lower than my chances of getting to sleep with Tater. You can't limit yourself to Baltimore. You've got to look in New York, and Seattle, and oh, Boston too, for sure, because I compared my stats to the students at each of the schools I'm applying to, and out of all of them, my best chance is definitely BU, and their med school is amazing so I definitely wouldn't mind going there. And of course it'd be great to stay close to Samwell so we can come chirp Bitty and the frogs on a regular basis. In fact, according to my spreadsheets and careful calculations, there is a 90% chance that we're going to end up in Boston after graduation. But don't worry, I've already compiled a list of the best job openings within a 30-minute commute of the least-sucky-but-still-reasonably-priced housing in the Boston area, based on starting salary and employee satisfaction and working hours and vacation time and how not-boring they sound, so—"
"Fuck, we really do act like we're married." The words tumbled out of Holster's mouth before he could stop them.
Not much could derail Justin Oluransi once he started talking about spreadsheets, but those eight words did the trick. "I… married?"
Holster considered running back to Amaterasu's and shoveling raw fish down his throat until he got food poisoning. He considered jumping into the still-frozen Pond and hoping for hypothermia and the sweet release of death. Instead, he did something that made him think, for the first time, that he might actually be qualified to be a captain. He opened his mouth and said, "Elaine and Michelle knew that we weren't dating."
"…What."
"Yeah, apparently they were laying on the PDA to get us to take a hint. But Michelle said it made sense that we didn't know they were dating at first—because we already act like we're married."
"Well, fuck them, right?" Ransom said, angrier than Holster had expected him to be. It made him feel like throwing up all over again. "We don't have to be married to keep living together after graduation—"
"What if I wanted to be?" Holster blurted out.
"What, married?"
Holster regretted everything about his life. "No, not—I mean, not right away—but like—dating?"
For a while, Holster was worried that he'd broken Ransom. His best friend's mouth opened and closed a few times, soundless, before finally managing to produce an approximation of the words, "You want to date me?"
"Yeah," Holster said, his voice cracking. "I mean, we don't have to. It's like you said—we definitely don't have to be married to keep living together after graduation, and we don't have to be dating either. I love being your best friend. But… I'd love it even more if I was your best friend who got to kiss you."
"Shit," Ransom said. "You want to date me."
Holster had been wrong thirty seconds ago. Now he regretted everything about his life. "Look, dude, you don't have to say that like it's the end of the world," he said sharply. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. I've been in love with you for four years, I'm pretty sure that I can handle still being in love with you after graduation. It doesn't have to be a big deal, just—just please don't tell me that you don't want to live together, because I don't know if I can—"
"Bro, you want to date me," Ransom said again, and all at once Holster realized that the weird note in his best friend's voice wasn't horror, or confusion, or disgust. It was awe.
Ransom leaned forward at the same time that Holster tilted his chin down—they'd gotten the title of best D-man pair in the NCAA for a reason, after all.
And then they were kissing.
Ransom tasted like peach cobbler ice cream and seafood, and it was too cold for Holster to feel his hands, and the hem of his pants was getting wet because they were standing in the middle of a snowbank a quarter-mile away from the Haus, and he regretted absolutely nothing about his life.
Not if it led to this.
"So… does this mean you want to date me too?" he asked eventually, once Ransom pulled away to catch his breath and Holster remembered that they hadn't actually finished their conversation.
"Hell yeah, I want to date you," Ransom said. "March and I broke up because I realized I was never gonna get over you, and it wasn't fair to her for me to keep trying."
Holster felt a mixture of relief and guilt. "You were trying to get over me?"
"Well, yeah," Ransom said. "I didn't even realize you were bi until tonight. I definitely didn't know dating you was an option."
"It's an option," Holster reassured him.
"It'd fucking better be," Ransom replied, and they were kissing again.
This time, they were interrupted by a buzz in Holster's pocket, which turned out to be a text from Michelle.
ARE U MARRIED YET?!?!
Holster snorted and took a picture of his and Ransom's hands twined together. No ring yet, but we're going to live together after graduation.
The three gray dots were on Holster's screen for so long that Holster half-expected an actual sincere response. What he got was, that tells me nothing. you'd do that either way.
Holster showed the text to Ransom, who laughed and said, "Damn, only one double date, and she already knows us so well."
Holster grinned. "I think we should show her some proof, don't you? Get her and Elaine back for the PDA at Amaterasu's?"
"Well," Ransom said, "since I guess we can't fine them."
The next picture was of Holster pressing a kiss to Ransom's neck, exactly where Elaine had kissed Michelle during dinner.
gross, Michelle responded. Then, u fuckers better invite me to ur wedding.
Ransom stole Holster's phone from him and fired off, We'll think about it, complete with a hair-flipping emoji.
assholes.
Holster snorted. "Speaking of things to think about, we need to have a serious conversation later about you thinking you're not smart enough to get into Johns Hopkins. Like, bro, what's up with that?"
"I'm just being prac—"
Holster held up a finger. "No. No excuses. I'm going to make you sit through a full conversation about it, like a good boyfriend. Right after we discuss your weird obsession with Tater."
"He's attractive and good at hockey!"
"I'm attractive and good at hockey!"
"Why do you think I agreed to date you?"
"I thought it was so I could serenade you with showtunes at all hours of the day and night."
"Bro, you already do that."
"I know," Holster said proudly. "So, like, relationship goals achieved."
Ransom squeezed Holster's hand and leaned his head on his shoulder. It was yet another thing they'd both done before—during roadies or after kegsters or while studying for finals—but it felt different now. More certain. More comfortable. Better.
"Yeah," Ransom said, and Holster could hear the contentment in his voice. "Relationship goals achieved."