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“Honestly, if we met in high school I’d probably have had a crush on you,” Coy says offhandedly, tossing the dead filter of the joint they’d just shared into the trashcan beside his bed.
Will’s mouth drops open into a shocked smile, endearing, and so genuine that Coy almost forgets to be embarrassed.
“Really?” Will asks, voice softer than usual, like he’s actually, honest-to-god asking.
He looks up at Coy from beside him on the mattress, eyes all big and earnest, and Coy feels so warm it’s kind of nauseating.
Will’s a good few inches taller than Coy, but he always seems to find some way to look up at Coy, eyes smiling through his lashes in a way that makes Coy feel— well.
Belatedly, he pulls his eyes away from Will’s and prays his face isn’t as flushed as it feels. It could’ve been minutes since he last spoke, or just a few really long seconds. Either way, the silence feels incriminating.
“I mean, I had crushes on loads of people in high school,” Coy deflects, gaze teetering off the bed in an attempt to avoid Will. “So—”
“Sooo, I’m not special,” Will finishes, goading. Coy can hear him smiling through the words, and turns back to face him before he can remind himself not to.
He misses the self-control of his sober self from earlier today. Everything seems harder to resist right now.
And he can’t deny that Will looks nice like this, like, objectively nice. His body completely at ease, arms crossed loosely over his chest, braids falling around his face, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. God, Coy would’ve been so fucked if he’d met him in high school.
Coy starts to push himself up off the bed in search of a distraction. The room spins a little, and tilts back in to place. “I’m thirsty,” he lies. “Water?” he asks Will
Will frowns at him, grabbing for Coy’s arm in a lame attempt to get him to stay. “No, what, no, no, no,” Will pouts, as if Coy leaving the room is life-or-death. Coy stifles a giggle. Will is not high enough to be acting like this.
“Will, you’re gonna be thirsty in three seconds, max. We’re, like, three joints in. And I know you.” Will blatantly ignores him, latching on to Coy’s shirt sleeve as Coy tries to fight down a stupid smile.
“Come back to bed, Coy,” Will groans, sitting up reluctantly. Coy wavers, laughing. With a sudden burst of energy, Will seizes the opportunity and grabs Coy by the waist, pulling him back down onto the mattress.
Coy gasps as his back hits the bed, surprised by the force. He tries not to think about how easy it was for Will to throw him onto the bed like a ragdoll. Like, he really tries not to.
“Sorry,” Will grins, not looking even a little bit sorry. His hand stays resting over Coy’s waist as he thoughtlessly tucks himself into Coy’s side, like he’d been there all along.
And, well, that’s the thing about Will. Coy would love to pretend it doesn’t drive him insane, how openly affectionate Will is, nuzzling a head into his shoulder or throwing an arm around him without thinking.
Because it’s sweet, really, that a straight guy is comfortable being this way with him. After years of uncomfortable half-friendships and walls put between himself and the guys he lets into his life, it should be a relief that Will can reach for Coy like this without thinking.
But Coy knows it isn’t relief that flutters in his chest as Will noses into Coy’s side with a satisfied hum. It’s something worse, probably, something that’s going to be a total bitch to deal with if he lets himself think on it too hard.
So he doesn’t think. He huffs out a laugh and tries to pull away, which is hard when Will is so warm, weighing him down and burying his smile in Coy’s shirt, and the weed is weakening Coy’s resolve by the minute.
“Okay,” Will says, voice bashful, muffled in Coy’s shirt and his sheets. “Okay, I’m a little thirsty.”
Coy screws his eyes shut and plays annoyed. “‘Course you are,” he sighs.
“C’mon. Up,” Coy nags. He tugs lightly at Will’s hair, and Will makes a soft noise that he tries not to linger on. It echoes softly in Coy’s brain, as he tries to get upright.
Somehow, they manage to stumble off the bed and slink over to the kitchen.
“So. About this crush thing,” Will starts, and Coy’s groaning out loud before Will can even finish his sentence.
“Shut up forever,” Coy grumbles, pointedly turning away from Will to grab a glass. He grabs about five bowls by mistake.
“No, I just mean, like— why?” Will asks, as if it totally blows his mind that Coy could ever be interested in him.
“Why would I have a crush on a boy?” Coy squints and tilts his head, like he’s lost in thought. “Gosh, I mean, you got me there—”
“Shut up,” Will laughs, shoving Coy playfully on the shoulder, probably way harder than he’d meant to. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” Coy says stubbornly, turning away again to fill up the glass. He vaguely registers that the glass might be a flower vase.
“Coy,” Will groans in frustration, leaning forwards to bump his head against Coy’s.
From behind him, Will tries to rest his chin on Coy’s shoulder. Coy laughs as he pushes Will away with his free hand, the weed not helping any with his coordination. He is decidedly not thinking about the feeling of Will pressed up against his back. Oh my God make it stop.
Coy sets the glass (or vase, whatever) down on the countertop and turns to face Will, who’s still looking at him expectantly.
“I dunno, why does anyone like anyone?” Coy relents, exasperated. “You’re gonna make me regret telling you.” Will pouts at that. Coy tries to ignore it.
Coy is high right now, the last thing he wants is to have to explain to his best friend why he finds him attractive. He strains for some kind of non-answer.
“I was crushing on a lot of straight guys, is all. So, like, you’d have been my type,” Coy drags the words out, half-hoping Will’s high brain will forget when they were taking about and the conversation will end here.
Will is, in fact, undeterred. “Stop with the ‘straight’ thing. We talked about this!”
Coy blinks at him in disbelief, and it takes him a second to remember that he’s referring to their conversation from Couch Surfing, and Will’s insane ramble of, yeah, maybe sucking dick would be enjoyable, or whatever.
“That’s— you’re so ridiculous,” Coy screws his eyes shut, smiling over how absurd Will can be sometimes.
“Wha— Why’s it ridiculous? I just don’t want you to see me that way! And, what, now I’m being punished? And shunned?” Will sputters in protest.
“You’re not being punished, Will,” Coy shakes his head fondly.
“You’re walking away right now!” Will pads along after Coy as he makes his unsteady way back to the bedroom. The apartment can be like a labyrinth when he’s smoked too much. Will doesn’t leave his side. Man, he gets clingy when he’s high.
“I’m not shunning you, you big baby. We’re going back to my room,” Coy says in Will’s direction.
“Yesss,” Will celebrates, “Success!” He tosses his arms around Coy and drops his head on Coy’s shoulder again, which makes Coy teeter over so bad he thinks he might have spilled half the water.
“God, you’re needy,” Coy complains through a smile.
Will laughs to himself, all self-satisfied, his breath huffing out onto Coy’s neck, warm and— ugh. His head feels charged with static.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Coy adds.
“T’wasn’t it?” Will asks with a joke-thoughtful lilt to his voice. Unbothered, he crowds Coy’s space again, hand covering Coy’s on the doorknob.
“Oh my god, you pest,” Coy giggles as he swats Will’s hand away. “Turning the door handle is not a two man job.”
“I’m being a helpful,” Will insists.
“You are not being a helpful.” He turns around and grabs Will by the shoulders, putting a few inches between them. “There. You stay there.”
Will honest-to-god whines, but he obliges, and Coy has to push everything to the back of his mind to focus on getting back into his stupid room and out of this stupid hallway of stupid gay purgatory.
He plants himself back on the bed and watches, breaking out into a laugh, as Will does not move a muscle and lets the bedroom door close in his face.
“Will,” he calls out after a moment.
“Coy?” Will responds, muffled, through the door.
“What are you doing. Get in here.”
“You told me to stay,” Will grumbles as he opens the door, rolling his eyes and fighting a smile.
He stands there for a minute, smiling dumbly at Coy, sweatpants riding low on his waist, the neck of his shirt hanging to the side, exposing the skin of his collarbones and hips, and Coy takes a moment to pray silently before patting the spot on the bed next to him.
Will flops into bed belly first, in that loose-limbed way that makes Coy suspect he uses the weed as an excuse to forgo any spatial awareness whatsoever. He watches as Will props himself up on his elbows, one on either side of Coy, eyes roving up and down, languid from the high, and Coy is so, so fucked.
“Personal space, dude,” Coy says, biting down on his lip.
“M-mm,” Will shakes his head in lieu of a response, pausing before ducking down to nuzzle his head against Coy’s shoulder, their chests meeting for a brief moment.
“You’re worse than Shug sometimes, you know?”
“That’s why we get along so good.” Coy can feel Will smiling against the crook of his shoulder. Time stills a little. “I have housepet-like qualities,” Will says with pride.
Another breath down Coy’s neck makes him shudder, and he has to pull Will away. “Stop,” Coy gasps, “that tickles.”
Will laughs openly as he digs his fingers into Coy’s sides, sending him into a fit of giggles that Coy really does not appreciate. Every breath he takes in feels like it’s probably going to be the last.
“Stop! Stop. Stop, I’m gonna hit you,” Coy squeaks.
“Do it,” Will laughs, reaching under Coy’s shirt to make it worse. Coy wants to die.
“You’re crazy,” Coy gasps for air, “let go!”
“No, do it!” Will half-jokes, “Hit me, I can take it!” He looks up at Coy with a stupid fucking grin, and for a moment, Coy seriously considers taking him up on the offer.
Fine. Coy raises a hand and pats Will on the cheek. It’s a lot more of a hit in his head. In reality, he’s pretty sure it doesn’t even make a sound.
“What was that,” Will gapes, his hands on Coy loosening.
“I wasn’t actually gonna hit you!” Coy already kind of feels bad for the light tap.
“Why not? You soft on me or something?” Will’s eyebrows crinkle with sarcasm, and it’s so cute Coy almost forgets he’s supposed to be annoyed. He stares at Will in disbelief.
“Don’t call me soft.” Coy sputters. “That’s— homophobic.” His brain feels scrambled.
“Here we go again,” Will groans, flopping back on to the pillow, and Coy is all at once relieved and disappointed with the loss of contact.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Coy prods.
“Means you act like you’re the only gay boy in this house,” Will says with an eye roll, tossing his hands up in the air in light-hearted frustration. Coy actually physically jolts.
“You’re not gay, Will,” Coy laughs, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. This conversation is slowly veering into territory he does not want to get into, not ever, but especially not high.
“I— wasn’t even talking about— well, how do you know?” Will defends, and it’s moments like these that Coy wishes Will had some kind of filter.
“How do I know?” Coy gawks.
“Yeah. Why’d you get to decide?”
Coy considers hitting him for real, if only to wipe that stupid pout off his face.
“‘Cause I actually am gay, Will. I kiss boys and— stuff. Y’know, the whole nine yards.”
Will scoffs at that, like, actually scoffs, and Jesus, Coy wants to bury this boy alive.
“I’d kiss a boy, what are you talking about!” Will turns towards Coy, and it catches Coy by surprise how genuine Will seems, as if he really believes the words coming out of his mouth. “I have kissed boys!” Will insists. God, he could be so dense sometimes.
“Anthony doesn’t count,” Coy argues, and his untethered mind supplies him with the memory of the two of them, on more than one occasion, kissing loudly and show-offily in front of him.
“Well, Anthony’s the only one who’s offered,” Will raises his eyebrows as if he’s making a good point. Coy wants to die.
“But you would?” Coy asks, disbelief etching his voice, “kiss a boy?” He doesn’t add for real?, but he thinks it’s pretty strongly implied.
A smile flashes across Will’s face, stupidly endearing, and for a second, Coy really believes him. The moment catches, snagging like fabric on a hook. Coy swims in it.
“Well, not, like, any boy,” Will shrugs. Maybe Coy’s imagining it, he’s too high for this, how Will’s eyes slide across Coy’s face, patient.
“‘Course not. But, like—” Coy has no idea where he’s even going with this. Will cuts him off.
“You? Yeah.” Will says, like it’s obvious.
His voice is hushed now, like the conversation is serious, and Coy gives himself a minute to consider it, pretend it’s real. Will looks almost hopeful. The corner of his lips twitch, his eyes wide and shining in the low light of Coy’s bedside lamp. He smells warm, like smoke and Coy’s bedsheets. Coy feels like he’s going under.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Coy dismisses, fighting the blush away from his face. It’s hopeless.
“What, d’you want me to prove it?” Will’s smile grows, and he’s closer than he was a second ago, voice dangerous and soft.
A beat, and he’s toying absently with the collar of Coy’s shirt, tugging gently, fingers brushing over the skin of Coy’s collarbone.
“You’re such an idiot,” Coy murmurs, and he can hear it in his own voice, how gone he is. He meets Will’s eyes and it’s already over.
The lull of the high means all the sensations reach him a moment after they happen.
The soft catch of Will’s lips, Will’s hand stilling against his chest, Will pushing forwards, soft and gentle, like he means it, and Coy feels like he’s sinking, into something thick and sweet and suffocating.
He feels Will’s eyelashes flutter against his own as Will tilts his head and deepens the kiss.
Their noses brush, Will leaning over him slightly, pressing into his mouth and crowding into his space, eager, now that he has Coy’s permission. Coy can feel the familiar line of Will’s smile against his own lips, and it sends sparks up into his belly.
Tentative, Coy bites softly on Will’s bottom lip, letting himself be a little needy while he has his beautiful friend pressed up against him. Will doesn’t waste time with the invitation, licking into his mouth, a little sloppy and eager to please. He tastes like weed and something dark, rich and warm, something that makes Coy’s head spin.
He feels a thousand times higher than he was a minute ago. His hand, cradling Will’s jaw and the back of his neck, catches in his hair, tugging him closer still.
Will’s hand roams down his chest, pausing at the hem of Coy’s shirt, and he murmurs a soft Can I? into Coy’s mouth, as if he hadn’t just grabbed Coy by the stomach a few minutes before. Desperate for Will’s mouth back on his, Coy just hums a yes, a pleading sound in the back of his throat that sounds embarrassingly like a whine.
Now they’re back at it, more desperate this time, Will touchy as ever with both hands splayed out under Coy’s shirt, across his back, feeling over whatever skin he can reach. Will’s pulling him so much closer that Coy can feel his back lifting off the mattress.
Will’s leg presses down in between Coy’s, and the accidental friction makes them both gasp into each other’s mouths. It makes Coy giggle, abruptly, when he realizes that’s the first breath he’s taken in a while. Will leans back a little to watch him.
“What?” Will asks, smiling so hard that Coy’s heart does a double flip in his chest at the sight of it. He might be laughing out of pure giddiness now.
“Guess you really do like guys,” Coy grins, his face probably pink all over.
Will smiles back, bright. “Told ya,” he responds, and Coy rolls his eyes fondly.
“Shut up,” he bites, but the words come out all soft.
“O-kay,” Will smiles, happy to oblige, and leans back in.