Archive of Our Own

Horizontal strips of the midday sunlight tumbled into the bedroom through the gaps between the window blinds. The rays highlighted the floating dust with a glimmer as it danced around the room like the flakes in a snow globe. The scene inside was no less cozy; the two boys within were huddled on the too-small bed together from their peaceful slumber, the comforter tossed onto the floor as a result of the summer heat.

It was serene; quiet in a way Chris wasn’t used to. The silence itself was nothing new, but rather than the harsh tension in the atmosphere that he was accustomed to—the looming dread that muddied the air he breathed and the sense of disappointment that flooded into his veins through every orifice—all that was present was warmth. And not just from the San Diego sun.

He had woken up several minutes ago, but the image before him deserved every second of attention he could give. The room itself was a bit of a mess, and Chris couldn’t help but be enamored by it. Posters and vinyls haphazardly covered the walls from bands that Chris could only name half of. The desk and window sills were overgrown with vines and leaves and flowers, and Chris melted as his gaze passed over a dried jar of forget-me-nots. It was an offhand comment he made once that they were his favorite, but he should have known Andrew wouldn’t forget it. His school bag and supplies were stacked against the side of his desk, papers strewn about and creased in a way that would make Chris’ heart ache if they were his own belongings. Past the foot of the bed, clothes were piled around a collapsed hamper. Chris smiled as he imagined Andrew tossing his laundry to the basket and cursing as he missed. The only semi-organized corner was home to Andrew’s prized guitar where it sat on a rack and shined like new. Everything was so particular, so unique, so Andrew that the boy felt blessed to even be able to witness it.

It felt too perfect to be real, too lovely for someone so undeserving like him. He was afraid that, any moment now, the illusion would shatter. So he wanted to burn the memory into the back of his mind to give him a place he could go to when he was inevitably forced back into the real world. He took a final glance around before his eyes settled on the man on top of him, pressing his face into the other’s curls and inhaling before pulling away with a kiss. All he could see was the mop of hair that sat atop the head pressed into his chest, but he could practically visualize the way he was sprawled out above him—his arms wrapped around Chris’ torso like a koala while one leg bent into Chris’ side and the other stretched out and tucked beneath one of Chris’ own. Chris could feel his own heartbeat as it reverberated against Andrew’s head as if it was beating for the both of them, as if they were the only two beings in the universe and everything revolved around their intertwined souls. He brought an arm around Andrews back, tracing light circles into the sweat soaked fabric, and the only word that ran through his mind was “precious”.

Suddenly a light knock scared him out of his stupor, making him jump and halt his movements in fear. This was it, he was sure. Soon enough his dad would walk through the door and he would wake up from this magical dream and he would have to go about his day as if he wasn’t just holding the world—his world—in his arms. He braced, eyes as wide as they could be, as the door slowly pushed open.

But instead of the burly man he expected to see burst into the room with no regard for privacy, all he saw was a small nose and a warm smile peeking through a dark, respectfully sized opening.

Alyssa.

He felt himself let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, and a small smile found its way onto his face. He was granted this paradise for a moment longer, then.

“Hey! Breakfast is ready for you two whenever.” His mother’s angered call rang out from the kitchen, piercing through the perfect image Chris’ mind had provided him, breaking the facade of his fantasy, except—

Except, no, she would never say that. The wording was wrong, not to mention the softness of her voice and the kindness of the gesture. But—

But that had to mean—

Chris observed the minute details of Alyssa’s face as she tried to determine if the boys were awake. The tiniest squint of her eyes, the furrow of her brow, the loose strand of hair that fell into her face as she tilted her head—Chris knew enough about Andrew to conjure up a believable image of his room, but Alyssa? He’d always been creative, sure, but his mind could never produce an image this clear.

She was real. This was real. All of it. Chris willed away the burning he felt building behind his eyes and gave her a gentle wave.

She lit up at the awoken man and returned the gesture. “Hungry?”

He smiled and nodded, but motioned quietly towards the sleeping man with a helpless tilt of his eyebrows. The sleeping man that was actually here and real and his and oh the tears were getting harder to stop.

Thankfully Alyssa didn’t seem to notice, but she spotted Andrew and giggled as she widened the door enough to walk through. She stepped forward with her arms folded at her chest, crossing the small room in a few short strides. Leaning against Andrew’s desk, she gazed at the resting boy with a loving gaze. “Oh, just look at you two. You’re made for each other,” Chris averted his flustered gaze, fighting the giddy smile that grew on his lips, “Pushing Andrew to confess has to be my greatest accomplishment. I think I can die happy knowing I had a hand in this.”

Chris stifled a laugh at her dramatics. “Not any time soon, I hope.”

“Oh, never. I wanna bear witness to the fruits of my labor for as long as possible.”

“Your labor, huh? Andrew never mentioned you saying anything.”

Alyssa placed a hand over her heart, gasping in mock disappointment. “He didn’t!? Wowww, no appreciation for his sister, how cruel of him.”

Chris giggled again. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so consistently hopped up on dopamine for such a long period of time. It was getting a bit overwhelming. “Nah, the opposite really. He loves you a lot, doesn’t think he could ever repay all you’ve done for him. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Alyssa’s eyes shined, but she covered it up with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me, don’t worry.”

Chris glanced back down at Andrew, quietly amazed at his ability to sleep through this much noise. He found himself mindlessly swiping his thumb back and forth across the man’s shoulder blade in appreciation.

“He’s a good kid—you both are. I’m really happy you found each other. I couldn’t picture a better match for him.”

Chris sputtered, his face warming. “I uh… I’m really glad you think that. I couldn’t picture loving anyone else like I love him.”

He felt a hand gently ruffle his hair. “Oh, you sap. That’s adorable, stop it.”

“Hey, you started it!” He ducked his head, chuckling. “I mean it, though. You guys bring out the best in me.”

“Aw, me too?”

Chris looked back up, seeing genuine curiosity and doubt on the woman’s face. “Oh, sure. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a sister. I seriously don’t get how you can keep everything together and still be so patient and caring with me and Andrew. And I’m sure it’s not just us. I’m so grateful Andrew’s had you his whole life. I might owe you as much as he says he does—oh—”

His words cut off as Alyssa pulled him into a gentle side hug, squeezing as tight as she could without disturbing the man on Chris’s chest. The weight against his side was undeniably grounding and loving and real. He heard a small sniffle, and the tears he had been holding back poured out without his consent.

“You’re too sweet, kid, really. I’m honored you think so highly of me, hah—” Her quivering voice broke the facade of confidence she tried to keep up, but neither mentioned it. “And, hey, as far as I’m concerned, you’re family too. So you get all of my big sister privileges too, alright?”

Chris choked out a small sob, pushing his face further into Alyssa’s side. “Y–yeah, cool.”

The two held each other for several moments, letting the unspoken words sit between them. Chris didn’t know how much Alyssa knew about his relationship with his parents, but he was sure that the way he reacted just now proved enough of a point. Similarly, he had a feeling there was more going on behind the scenes of Andrew’s life than he had told Chris, what with him being raised by his sibling, and he was willing to bet that it was because Alyssa kept him safe from most of it.

It was something they had in common. They were both willing to sacrifice anything and everything just to make sure Andrew got to live the happy life he deserved. He was the light in both of their lives, the reason both of them had to push through their struggles. He was both of their worlds, and he treated them like they were his. Chris only hoped they were able to reciprocate the love he showed them.

Eventually, Alyssa pulled away from the embrace, wiping the dried tears off of her face with her sleeve. She lightly patted Chris’ shoulder, smiling at him with a gaze full of love and understanding. He met it tenfold.

“Food’s on the stove. You can warm it up when you get out here.”

The first thing he registered was touch. A hand on his back, tracing patterns across his skin, and another on his head, combing his hair and massaging his scalp. Their movements were repetitive and soothing, easing his barely awoken mind back into slumber. He stretched out a tingling arm above his head, groaning as the tension loosened and his body granted him a pleasant buzz in his brain in appreciation. He buried his face deeper into the warmth below him, inhaling a sweet scent as his mind lost hold of the last tethers of consciousness. He was floating, drifting away from his body as he was embraced by warm, loving arms, and—

And he was suddenly brought right back as the hand retreated from his hair. His bubble of comfort popped, and he was falling down, down, down into the land of the living once more. His free arm blindly grasped around his head, desperately searching for the departed appendage like it was a lifeline. He found nothing but air and a fluffy round mass that seemed to make his scalp sting when he smacked it. Strange.

Frustrated, he groaned and accepted defeat. He tucked his chin into his chest with a frown and folded his arm above his head. He kept pouting, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to lull himself to sleep once more, until familiar, soft fingers intertwined with his own. With them, sudden vibrations emanated from the surface below him, buzzing against his skin. The sounds were melodic and structured, spaced apart at specific intervals, almost like…

“—cute when you’re sleepy.”

He blinked his eyes open for the first time, perking up at what he now registered to be a voice. Yet it sounded so fuzzy and far away…

The hand on his back crept up over his shoulder and onto his face, grabbing his chin. His gaze was pulled upward, his blurry surroundings growing more defined as he blinked until he was able to make out a face.

He could practically feel his own pupils dilate at the sight before him.

His eyes trailed everywhere over the man’s soft skin as the sun lit it with a glow that drew Andrew in like a moth. He began at his collarbone, where the neckline of his shirt had been pulled down by Andrew’s weight, tracing up his soft jawline and across his full lips. Then there was that nose; that cute, rounded nose he had first seen and committed to memory just days ago, now right in front of him in 3D. In his peripheral, he noticed the frizzy and disheveled state of the boy’s curls. He felt a twinge of pity, but ultimately found it endearing that it was his bed that caused such ruin. A beam of light grazed the tips of said hair like the wick of a candle, giving an illusion of a halo above his head. He finally settled on looking into the powerful gaze that had yet to stray from his own, the blue of his irises reflecting the sunlight to make a piercing, ethereal white that demanded all of his attention.

The sun rose in the sky, dragging its light with it. Yet Chris remained, looking no less heavenly without the gold-tinted filter.

“Woah.” His voice came out breathy and distant.

He felt himself jostle as the angel below him snickered. “Hi.”

Andrew’s gaze followed the curve of the other’s lips as they slowly raised into a relaxed smirk. He couldn’t stop staring. He’d never seen a sight more beautiful than Chris, a man who once believed himself troubled beyond repair, displaying pure contentment. The hand on his chin migrated back to his shoulder, and he remembered to breathe.

“H-hi.” It came out forced and broken, like he hadn’t expected to speak. Chris’ smile only widened.

“Are you like this every morning?”

Andrew’s face burned. He forced himself to look away, immediately missing the view. “…you’re comfy.”

“More comfy than the other Chris?”

Andrew groaned and attempted to curl his limbs into his body, finding himself unable to as they were all knotted around the boy below him. He resorted to whining. “Shut up.”

Chris simply hummed, patiently letting Andrew awaken and come to his senses. The silence was appreciated—don’t get him wrong—but Andrew was greedy. He had his boyfriend trapped below him and at his whim. He could get whatever he wanted out of him.

“C-could you—hm.”

…or he would be able to, if only he could get the words out.

“Hm? What’s that?” The amusement in his voice was audible.

Andrew felt heat flood through his body, though from frustration or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. He sighed, raising his face up from where it had been pressed into Chris’ chest. With what he was sure was a terrifying and deadly glare, he muttered a vague “…hand,” in the other’s direction.

Chris innocently untangled the named appendage from Andrew’s, waving it next to his head.

Andrew wished he could wipe the smugness right off his face.

He groaned and, without further thought, shot his own arm out and grabbed the other’s tightly around the wrist. He yanked at it, trying to bring it closer to his head, but was met with restraint.

“Ah-ah. Use your words, doll.”

Andrew’s face lit on fire. He couldn’t take any more. He squeezed his eyes shut, certain he would combust if he witnessed the teasing expression of the other for a moment longer. “Could you just—put your hands back. Where they were. Please.”

The sheets below them shifted, and just as he thought he would get his wish—“And where were they again?”

He was going to kill him. He was gonna kill him! All it took was one day together in person for him to learn how truly fucked up and evil Chris was. Good thing he found out so soon so that the torment was minimized. Offended, he released the man’s arm and brought his hand in front of his own face.

…he still wanted his touch though.

“On me. Dick.”

A hand was in his hair again, massaging the back of his neck. All irritation melted from his body with an appreciative groan.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Andrew.”

He started dozing off again against his better judgement. His thoughts were fuzzy, being worked out of his brain by gentle fingers. Until one resurfaced among the static. His eyes shot open.

“D’ju call me ‘doll’?”

He heard a violent swallow.

“Is… is that okay?”

Andrew nodded aggressively before stopping abruptly, a sudden shyness making itself present. “Uh—I mean—uh—yeah. It’s. It’s cool. You can—um. Keep. Keep doing it, please.”

The form below him softened minutely, and he heard a huff above him. “M’kay, dear.”

Chris continued petting and combing through Andrew’s hair for another tragically short minute before a rumble emerged from his torso. “Alright, I love you, and you’re adorable“ —Andrew sputtered and turned his head away— “but I’m starving. C’mon, your sister said there’s food on the stove.”

Andrew, now fully awake and no longer incoherent, whined like a toddler yet again and squeezed his limbs around the boy below him.

“Oh my god, you’re insufferable. Andrew pleaseee I’m hungryyy.”

Feeling his position of the most immature being threatened, he regressed further. “Mmmno. Five more minutes.”

The only warning he got was a quiet muttering of “Alright, suit yourself,” before he was suddenly in the air and just as suddenly pressed against his own mattress with the other man above him. His breath caught as he glanced up at the playful gleam in the other’s eyes, air escaping the man’s mouth in rough gasps. So much for having him trapped.

“Uh. Ha—um.”

With a blur of movement, gentle lips pressed against his own, and then the weight above him disappeared. He was left gaping as Chris coughed a faint, “I’ll be in the kitchen,” and walked out the door.

He stood up before he could register what happened, nearly tripping over the pile of blankets on the floor as he raced into the hallway.

The scraping of forks against plates and the gentle murmurs of his sister slowed his steps and Andrew found himself stopping before turning the corner into the kitchen.

“Just you, huh? Ditched him for the food?”

“Oh, I’d choose your cooking over him any day. That’s the real reason I’m stickin’ around.”

“Well I am the superior sibling.”

“Naturally.”

The smiles on their faces were audible, and Andrew felt his heart fill with such an indescribable fondness that it nearly burst. It was no surprise to him that they got along so well; the similarities between the two were glaringly obvious. They were both cheeky yet undeniably genuine, and they both struggled to admit their own strengths and intelligence. They were brave, incredibly strong, and irrefutably, unapologetically good. Andrew was so lucky to have them. And now they got to have each other.

He nearly expected to be jealous; possessive over the two people he held so dearly. But instead a sense of rightness settled in his bones, and he felt almost proud to be able to connect both halves of his heart. And together, especially seeing how well their personalities meshed, his love for them only grew stronger.

Suddenly, Alyssa spotted him from where he was peering around the corner and called him out. “Hey, stalker. Nice of you to finally show up.”

“Well someone woke me up quite rudely. Had to take a minute to like… y’know, adjust.”

Chris looked him up and down with a quirk of his lips, taking in his clearly disheveled and not very ‘adjusted’ form. “Andrew, you’ve been awake for at least twenty minutes.”

“I—physically, maybe. But my brain wasn’t all there yet. So. Not awake.”

“Uh huh. So you’re saying you don’t want me to get you up like that again?”

“Uhm.” His brain flashed with images of strong arms at his side, lips against his, hair tickling his cheeks. “I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my god, get over here and eat, ya dork. I can’t stand this third-wheeling.” Alyssa dramatically interrupted the two’s bickering as she scrolled on her phone, blindly picking at the last of her eggs.

“You’re just upset that I’m happy for once. Can’t have anything around here.” He rounded the counter where the two sat, flicking the back of Alyssa’s head as he walked by and opened the fridge in search of milk and chocolate syrup.

Alyssa smacked his arm away, shooing him off. “Yep. Obviously. How dare you. Hey—while you’re in there, can you see if we’ve got any limes?”

He searched around, checking through the drawers she normally kept them in, but found nothing. “Nope, we’re out. Low on milk, too. Why?”

Alyssa nodded, and Andrew watched as she switched tabs over to a shopping list on her phone. She popped the last of her breakfast into her mouth, chewing slowly as she typed, then swallowed. “Was thinkin’ ceviche tonight—Chris, you’re okay with spice, right? And fish?”

The boy, mid-chew, simply nodded and covered his mouth. He was more concerned with the excitement that must have been evident on Andrew’s face as, even through his intrigue, he aimed an infatuated smile towards the man mixing his chocolate milk.

“Ooh, hell yeah, it’s been a while. I’ll get everything together out back while you’re gone. You, sir,” Andrew dipped his head at his partner with a wide smile, “are in for a treat.”

“Can’t wait. I don’t normally try new foods, but—” He stabbed into an egg. “—I trust your judgement.”

“You’re gonna love it.” Alyssa rinsed her plate off in the sink, setting it down before walking back to grab her packed bag and keys. “I’ve gotta get to class, but I’ll stop by the market when I’m done. You two stay safe, I’ll see you later.”

She reached up to ruffle Andrew’s hair as Chris thanked her for the food, and soon enough just the two boys remained in the house.

Once Andrew deemed his chocolate milk appropriately mixed, he grabbed a plate and began loading the rest of the bacon and eggs onto it. “Chris, you want any more of this? If you don’t, I’m gonna finish it.”

When he didn’t get a response, he looked up and found Chris spaced out in his direction. The attention made him squirm, but the look on his face worried him. He walked around the counter, setting his meal down at the spot next to Chris, but the man’s gaze remained facing towards the spot where Andrew previously stood.

“Hey… you, uh, you with me?”

Chris jumped at his words, quickly spinning to face the direction of the sound. Seeing Andrew, he tried schooling his expression to not seem as spooked as he was.

“Um—! Ah, sorry Andrew, what did you say?”

Andrew furrowed his brow and turned his body fully towards the other. “Don’t worry about it… is something wrong?” He swallowed. While Chris had been much better about being open since their phone call months back, he worried the boy would still shy away from a more direct confrontation. But it really wasn’t like him to not be hanging off every word that came out of Andrew’s mouth.

The man looked down at his empty plate for several beats, and Andrew held his breath, worried he stepped too far. But eventually, he spoke.

“No… no, it’s uh—I’m just… taking it in, is all. Still kinda hard to wrap my head around, you know?”

Andrew took a bite of bacon, his eyes never straying from the other man’s face. “Ya mean, you being here?” He had learned that providing Chris with a starting point for his thoughts helped them flow out more easily, almost like the two were brainstorming. Otherwise he floundered, speaking in circles and ultimately confusing the both of them. But with Andrew to help rein the words in, things fell into place.

“I—yeah. Just… doesn’t really feel all that real yet. Like…” His words trailed off.

Andrew tilted his head and reached for the man’s arm. He laced their fingers together, squeezing in encouragement.

“...like… any second ‘m just gonna wake up and find out all’ve this was just a dream. Like ’s too good to be true… like I don’… deserve it.” The man mumbled, his mouth hardly moving as the words flew out faster than he seemed to intend.

Andrew took a sharp breath before setting his fork on his plate. He stood, softly letting go of the boy’s hand, and wrapped his arms around him. His hands draped down the boy’s back and he twisted his neck to lay his head on top of the other’s. Chris hugged his waist in return. They sat for a moment, drinking in the contact before Andrew spoke again.

“You hear that?”

Chris hummed questioningly into his chest.

“‘S my heart beating. Because I’m alive, and I’m real, and I’m right here in front of you. I—I know you can’t, like, see into my head or whatever, so you can’t know I’m real according to that philosophical stuff you like, but… I know I’m real. So let me prove it to you.” Chris nodded below him, desperately pressing further into his torso.

He took a breath, thinking through his words carefully. “I… I can feel you in my arms. I feel how warm you are; I feel the sweat on your skin. I feel the wet parts of your shirt where it soaked in. I—I feel your fluffy curls against my cheek and the stray hairs scratching my nose. I feel your hands around my back, your nails scratching into my skin—don’t pull away, it—it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. I feel you here, physically, and I feel happy because of it. You make me happy, a—and comfortable, and safe, and… and all the things a real person would feel when they’re around someone they care about.

“Real people also have things they want, yeah? I want… to keep holding you, even though it’s really fucking hot in here. Because I want to make you feel safe, too. I want to reassure you that you can and do have things in your life that make you happy. Because you do deserve it, Chris, more than anyone. You’re—dude, you’re so fucking smart and talented and passionate, obviously, but you also have such a huge heart. You’d give anything to see me smile, and you always have. But I want you to understand that I would, too. Because I love you, angel, and there’s nothing more real than that.”

Andrew turned his head, planting a light kiss in the man’s hair. He listened as Chris’ breaths slowed and shallowed until he let out a final deep exhale. His hands crept up Andrew’s back until they landed on his shoulders. He pushed down lightly, and Andrew lowered himself until the two were face to face.

Andrew took in the weary, watery look in his eyes, the faint indents in his skin from the crinkled fabric of Andrew’s shirt, and most importantly, the shaky smile on his lips. But he didn’t get to savor the sight for long before they smashed into his own.

Chris kissed him with a newfound hunger, raking his hands through Andrew’s curls as he pulled him closer, impossibly closer, like he was trying to swallow the man whole. Lightning zapped down Andrew’s spine and he desperately grasped at the back of Chris’ shirt, whining as he felt the lack of oxygen cloud his brain.

Just as suddenly, Chris pulled away, panting, with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry—! Sorry, shit, I—um—that was… that was too much… I just—um. Thanks. For that. I… I think I believe you, now.”

Andrew, dazed and still catching his breath, struggled to find the words to cut off the boy’s rambling before it went too far. So he went back in for another kiss. Gentler, this time, and much shorter, but enough to shut him up.

Their lips separated, and Andrew laid his forehead against the other’s. “Hah—it’s—it’s ok. I um. That’s another thing I wanted. Just… didn’t say that one.” His mind came back to him in pieces, but he was put together enough to give the man a cheeky smile.

Chris giggled and wrapped his arms tighter around Andrew. “I love you too. My savior.”

Andrew choked and pulled away, his posture stiff as a board. “Uhm. I’m gonna. Finish my breakfast now.” Chris simply grinned and placed his elbow on the counter, laying his cheek on his fist as he watched Andrew redden under his gaze. The boy waved a hand at him, sitting back down and turning away. “S—stop that, dude.”

Chris reached over with his other hand and swiped a piece of bacon off his plate. “Nope. Gotta watch to make sure you stay real.”

Eventually he relented, scooting his chair closer to Andrew’s to lay his head on the boy’s shoulder as he finished his meal, periodically stealing bites of his food.

With the two of them working together, the plate was emptied within a few short minutes. Andrew lightly nudged the lethargic man next to him, signalling him to get up. They grabbed their respective cup and plates, Chris refusing to let Andrew take his, and walked over to the sink. As Andrew let the water rinse the stains off of his plate and into the drain, he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“No nothing, it’s just… this brings up some memories, as dumb as it sounds.”

“What, doing dishes?”

“Yeah, it’s… the night I, uh… the night I confessed to you… I only did after Lys encouraged me to. She saw I was zoning out and interrogated me, then after I told her everything she said I was being dumb and that I had nothing to worry about. Guess she was right.”

Chris smiled down at him with a knowing look in his eyes. “Why were you? Worried, I mean.”

Andrew set aside his plate, slyly reaching for Chris’ as he spoke, but the man noticed and pushed him away, taking his place at the sink. He huffed. “Fine, don’t let me help. And, I dunno, I guess I just… thought I was misreading the signals.”

“Andrew, I told you I loved you, how much clearer could I have made it?”

“I—I dunno! You were obviously exhausted, maybe it was like—you know when you accidentally call your teacher mom, or like… tell a waiter ‘you too’ when they say to enjoy your food? I thought maybe it was that and I—I didn’t want to assume…”

Chris giggled, reaching a wet hand out and ruffling Andrew’s hair, who whined in return. “I get it. I kinda thought I was making it obvious, though. I certainly act like I love you.”

“Oh my god, you sound just like her. I get it, I’m dense, alright? You don’t have to rub it in…” He folded his arms, pouting as he waited for his boyfriend to dry his dish and give him attention.

Which he finally did, stepping closer to envelop the boy in a bear hug. “Oh well. All’s well that ends well, and I guess we have Alyssa to thank for it.”

Andrew scoffed into the boy’s chest. “Don’t let her hear that. It’ll go straight to her head.”

Chris pulled back, and—there it was again, that twinkle in his eyes, like he knew something Andrew didn’t. He squinted at the man in silent curiosity, but Chris just shook his head.

“Anyways,” Andrew began, grunting as he reached above his head to put back the dishes, “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

Chris tilted his head in question, but Andrew just smiled before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the back door.

Sat in the middle of the backyard among the dying grass and trodden paths of dirt was Andrew’s garden. Crates and boxes were piled atop and against each other to form rustic DIY tables and shelves, on top of which sat countless pots and planters containing a wide array of flora. On the outside, they were surrounded by fenced-in squares of dirt home to some of the larger crops. Each and every plant seemed to effortlessly flourish and glow with an almost artificial perfection. But both boys knew better.

It was Andrew’s pride and joy, his studio, and his safe space, all in one. It was here that he ever felt truly confident and capable in his skills, his affinity for taking care of plants outshining any of his other meager talents and passions. Working tirelessly to keep all of his plants alive and well was like a breath of fresh air, literally and metaphorically, from any and all stresses and doubts he had. He wasn’t afraid to admit he talked to them sometimes, airing out any thoughts that plagued his brain in a place he knew he would receive no judgement for it. They probably knew more about his love for the man next to him than he had ever admitted out loud to any human being, the man in question included. He was proud to finally introduce him to them. He hoped they liked each other.

“Uh—here we are!” Andrew gestured in front of him with his unoccupied hand, faltering slightly as Chris remained silent. But his fear quickly faded as he glanced at the boy's face.

His eyes shone with wonder, and his mouth fell slightly agape at the sight in front of him. Andrew’s heart swelled.

Chris slowly stepped forward, his hand sliding out of Andrew’s, who noticed how sweaty his palm had grown in the blistering heat and wiped it quickly on his pants. Andrew watched silently as Chris made his rounds of the garden, his feet tracing the worn paths diligently and meticulously as if to step off would be a crime. He made sure to take in each and every stem and leaf and flower in sight, lightly petting some of the softer petals, until he found himself in front of a large pot of forget-me-nots. A soft “Oh” fell from his lips as he knelt down, gently taking a small cluster into his hand. Andrew made his way towards the other, taking a seat in the grass beside him.

“...they’re so much prettier in person.” His voice was like a whisper, like if he spoke too loud he would ruin the peace and serenity around him. Andrew looked into his eyes and found misty admiration. He’d be damned if he let any more tears spill out of the boy he loved today.

He playfully bumped their shoulders together. “Hey, you’re not so bad yourself.” Chris sniffled and laughed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Andrew stood and reached his hand out. “Wanna help me water ‘em?”

The boy nodded and took his hand, going limp as Andrew pulled him up and collapsing against him. Andrew yelped, but stood his ground, and berated the boy through giggles as he brought him to the side of the house.

“Here—if you wanna unravel the hose, I’ll go grab the watering can.” Chris saluted, and Andrew made his way towards the small shed in the corner of his yard in a light jog. He opened the door, grabbing the can from where he always stashed it, and was suddenly interrupted by a yell from behind him.

He turned and ran towards the sound, eventually slowing his movements as he saw Chris, fully in one piece, in a defensive stance several feet away from the hose.

“Chris? You okay?”

The boy gulped, nodding, before a shiver went down his spine and he curled further in on himself. “Sorry—yeah. It’s. Uhm.” He lifted a shaky hand, pointing to the siding of the house. Andrew followed his finger, eyes trailing over the dirty white wood before spotting a small black mass. He blinked, the pieces slotting together.

No way.

“Are you afraid of spiders?”

“Noooo! Not afraid! I just uh… I don’t like the way they move. Or eat. Or look. Why does their web have to come out of their ass? That’s so gross.”

Andrew barked out a laugh, steadying himself on his knees. “Oh my god, you are. How did I not know this? Why’d you never tell me?”

Chris, affronted, crossed his arms and shamefully looked away as the other kept laughing. “That. That’s exactly why. Because you’re making fun of me. It’s a perfectly normal fear, okay? It’s like, one of the most common phobias. If anything, you're the weird one for not being afraid.”

Andrew wiped the tears from his eyes. “Ok, but like, it’s outside. That’s where they live. It’s their territory, not ours. We’re the invaders. If it were inside, sure, I’d get freaking out a bit. But, like, this is their home, what did you expect?”

“It’s still creepy! And the hose is your territory, actually, so it should like… fuck off.”

Andrew just shrugged, performatively walking forward and grabbing the hose without hesitation.

“I hate you.”

“Thanks. Take the end, I’ll turn it on and off.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Truthfully, he was acting more confident than he felt. He couldn’t stop himself from risking glances upwards to make sure it wasn’t creeping closer to him. But Chris didn’t need to know that.

Soon enough the can was full of water, and Andrew took it from Chris to start feeding it to his plants. He couldn’t stop himself from ranting about his passion as he worked.

“Most of these guys do fine with just a bit of water—I don’t like to keep plants that don’t do well in the heat anyway. Your forget-me-nots are kind of the outliers, but it’s nothing they can’t handle. That’s why I keep them on a shorter box, so they’re not always in the sun. A lot of the rest of them love it, though, and they’re growing like crazy—I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much rosemary and thyme. But uh… some of the others have been struggling through this heatwave. They normally do just fine with about three full cans for the whole garden, but I’ve been almost doubling that the past few weeks. I think it’s helped. The ones that were doing worse are still healing—like you, huh, little one? Let’s get those dead buds off of ya so they can grow back big and strong.” He reached forward, gently plucking the dead flowers from their stems and tossing them in a nearby compost bin. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chris standing next to him with a lovestruck look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, go on.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

Chris relented immediately. “Oh, fine. You’re just so sweet with them, and you’re so passionate about taking care of them. It’s really endearing.”

Andrew’s eyes widened and he cast his gaze downward, but truly the compliment meant the world to him. His plants were his everything (aside from Chris), and to hear that the love he had for them was obvious was the best kind of validation.

“Well it’s—y’know. It’s only fair. The world takes care of us, so we might as well take care of it.”

Chris hummed. “That’s a nice sentiment.”

Andrew continued pouring water into the soil of each pot and refilling the can for many minutes, the boy next to him content to just watch and listen when Andrew shared the occasional fun fact.

Eventually, they made their way to some of the larger crops, where Andrew gasped in remembrance. “Right! We gotta get stuff for dinner!”

“Oh, yeah. What is the… say-chee-vay stuff anyway?”

Andrew chuckled. “It’s ceviche, and it’s like… marinated fish, I guess. That’s a bit oversimplified, Alyssa could explain it better. My mom’s side of the family was from Peru, even if she wanted nothing to do with them. But Alyssa dug around and found my grandparents’ old cookbook when she started teaching herself to be a chef, and it became one of her favorite dishes to make. And one of mine to eat.

“My family was never really one for ‘treasuring our culture’—my dad made sure of that. And we look white enough, so people never thought much of it. This was kind of Alyssa’s way to fight against that.”

Chriss nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. My parents and I were the only black family in our little town, and they wanted to do everything they could to… assimilate, I guess. It’s never been a huge deal to me, but I wish I knew how to take care of my hair better. Every stylist and salon I find just messes it up.”

Andrew frowned, reaching his hand up to comb through the frizzy curls. “Mmm, I noticed this morning. Hey—I’m sure we could find a place around here. Can’t get more diverse than California, there’s gotta be some good barbers around.”

Chris furrowed his brow. “Oh, no—I couldn’t—”

“Hey, shush, it’s basic self-care. You deserve it, okay?”

Chris opened his mouth to speak, then reconsidered. He silently fidgeted for a moment before ultimately rushing forward to suffocate the man in a hug. “Thank you.”

Andrew squeezed back, kissing him on the cheek. “Of course, angel.”

Chris pulled away first with a dopey smile, rubbing his thumb around Andrew’s wrist. “What all do we need to get?”

Andrew hummed, nodding for Chris to follow as he made his way back to the shed. He set down the watering can to instead grab a small basket and a pair of shears. “Not much, just some peppers, onions, a bit of cilantro. Could you hold this?” He handed the items to Chris, shutting and locking the door behind them.

“I’ve got all kinds of different peppers, how spicy do you wanna go? It’s traditionally made with ají peppers, but if you wanted something tamer I’ve got jalapeños, or just some bell peppers if you don’t want spice at all.”

Chris shrugged. “I have a high tolerance, I’m fine with any of it. We can stick to the traditional stuff if you’d like.”

Andrew nodded, crouching down to find the ones in best condition. He eyed a few and mindlessly opened his palm towards Chris, who immediately placed the rubber handle of the shears into his hand. It was only after placing the selected peppers in the conveniently lowered basket that he gave the action a second thought, and he smiled warmly to himself.

It really was such a miracle that he managed to find someone who clicked with him so well, even in person. Andrew had never known someone who understood him so thoroughly. It was almost scary, the way their brains seemed to tune into each other so effortlessly. How their bodies moved in tandem around each other, as if both were a part of a hivemind, or following the steps of a dance they both subconsciously knew the choreography to.

But as time went by, he wanted nothing more to keep giving into it, to fight against that nagging in his brain that warned him of being vulnerable. Because even if it had done him wrong in the past, this was Chris. The man who proved over and over, through countless years and rough patches, that not a single malicious bone existed in his body. That Andrew was the best part of his life. That he loved him. Truly, what did he have to be afraid of?

The basket full and their bodies drenched in sweat, the two boys finally returned to the barely cooler temperature of the house. Andrew meticulously washed off each item they had picked, cleansing them of dirt and anything else that might have contaminated them while outside. He left them in the sink to dry while the two retreated to the living room. They cuddled up on the couch, flicking through the apps and channels on the TV before settling on a random Minecraft video on YouTube that caught their eye.

Chris looked up from where he was sat against Andrew’s chest, his head bumping the other’s sternum. “What time will your sister be back?”

“She has class until like five, then the market is just up the road. So, probably another forty minutes or so.”

Chris stretched his arms up in the air with a grunt, then lowered them around Andrew’s neck to pull himself up, kissing the bottom of the boy’s chin. “Sweet. Nap time.”

He made no attempt to move with his arms still comfortably wrapped around the other, so Andrew met him where he was, tilting his head to peck the boy upside down on the lips. “Go to sleep, angel. I’ll wake ya when she gets here.”

He smiled dazedly. “I like when you call me that…”

He was already asleep when Andrew replied in a hushed voice, “Well, that’s good, because I like calling you that.”

Chris slept like a rock. His body laid perfectly, eerily still as if paralyzed, and the only sounds to be heard were the faint gusts of breath that left his barely parted mouth. Andrew wrapped his hands around the boy’s front, if only to feel that his pulse was still there, but even the faint pressure made him stir. A very jumpy rock, then. Andrew quietly removed an arm to reach for the TV remote, turning down the volume.

Having slept longer than the other in the morning, Andrew didn’t feel the need to sleep along with the boy in his arms. He was content to hold him, to watch him, to keep him safe from the outside world and ensure he got the rest he needed. ‘His savior’, Chris had called him. The nickname brought butterflies to his stomach just thinking about it. Yeah, he could be that. He wanted to be that. For his Chris? For his angel? He’d be that without hesitation. His hands wrapped protectively tighter against the boy as the player on the TV placed the final blocks in a breathtaking design he was sure his Chris could match the expertise of.

His amazing, talented Chris. His genius Chris. His thoughtful, passionate, considerate, adorable Chris. Nothing would ever come close to bothering him again. Not if Andrew had a say in it.

The front door suddenly opened, and the boy below him awoke immediately.

Well. Nothing else at least.

In the kitchen, Alyssa had cleaned off what little counter space there was to make room for the three of them to work. Andrew normally helped out with the simpler things for efficiency’s sake when she cooked, so her lesson was mostly aimed at Chris.

“Alright, I’ll have you two juice the limes and I’ll chop up the fish and a few other things. We need about two and a half cups, or as much as you can get out of what we have.” She reached below her into a drawer, pulling out a handheld tool with a tapered end. “Here—I’ve got this reamer if you want to use it. It’s pretty self-explanatory, just stick the pointy end into the half of the lime and twist. Or you can just use your hands; up to you. Just make sure you don’t squeeze too much out or you’ll get the skin and it’ll be too bitter.”

Andrew took the utensil from her, passing it to Chris. “I cut, you juice?”

“Sure.”

Andrew reached into the paper bag on his left, pulling out a lime and placing it on the cutting board in front of him. He sliced it in half, placing both pieces face down on the right side of the board for easy access for Chris. The boy grabbed one, held it above a measuring cup, and slowly poked and prodded at it with the tool he was given. The liquid dripped and squelched from the fruit, mostly spilling into the cup but slightly spraying over the counter.

“You can go a little faster, dude.”

“I know, I know, I just don’t wanna squirt it in my eye.”

Alyssa cut in. “You can squeeze the majority of it out with your hand, then go back in with the reamer to get what’s left. It’s a little less risky that way.”

“Oh, sure.”

Andrew set down his knife, watching as he did just that with a bit of struggle due to the tough structure of the lime. He stayed silent, knowing the boy would rather solve the problem with his own brain than receive advice. Which he did, eventually, by firstly squeezing around the circumference of the lime to loosen it. Andrew beamed at the boy’s proud smile.

Once fully juiced, Chris took the empty rind and threw it in the trash can next to him. And then the process repeated. The two worked like an assembly line: Grab, cut, set, juice, trash. Over and over. The lime halves started to pile up as Andrew worked faster than his juicer, but once the boy got more confident, their speeds evened out. Soon enough, Andrew grabbed the last lime in the bag.

“How much juice do we have? This is the last of them.”

Chris bent down, looking at the measurements on the side of the cup at eye-level. “Mmm, little less than that two and a half mark. Might as well do one more.”

The sounds of knives against wood and flowing liquid slowly faded, and both boys looked towards Alyssa for what to do next.

“Sweet, nice job guys. I’ll take that juice from ya.” Chris pushed it to her side of the counter as she reached into a cabinet for a large glass bowl. “Now we add the fish with the marinate and let it sit while we get everything else ready.”

Using her knife, she scooped up the cubes of white fish and placed them into the bowl. She washed her hands quickly after handling the raw meat, then sprinkled a healthy amount of salt on the fish. Next, she threw in some garlic she had chopped up, then she finished it off by pouring in the lime juice. She tilted the cup slowly, filling the bowl to a line just below where the mound of fish piled up, which only took about half of what the boys had made. She nodded, pleased, then mixed up everything in the bowl.

Once satisfied, she set the bowl in the fridge. “I wouldn’t normally leave it in there, but it needs a cool environment to really denature, and the house is… certainly not that right now.”

She walked around, cleaning up and wiping down the counters as Chris’ curiosity got the best of him. “How does that work? Are we not cooking it?”

She met his gaze and smiled. “Nope, the citrus does everything we need. Don’t worry, I promise it’s safe.”

“Is that what you mean by ‘denature’?”

Alyssa grabbed three more cutting boards and set them in front of each cook. “Yep! Essentially how it works is the citric acid mixes up the proteins in the fish, making it more tender and less likely for any bacteria to survive, similarly to how high temperatures would. Now, it’s not as perfect of a science as cooking. It only alters the surface of the fish, while heat can penetrate all the way through, and the citrus is only as effective as its environment lets it be. But as long as it’s fresh and kept below a certain temperature, it does the job just fine. Which! Is why I get my fish from a trusted source. And why it’s in the fridge right now. As long as we leave it in there while we make the rest, it’ll be perfectly sanitary.”

Chris nodded slowly. “Huh. That’s… really cool.”

Alyssa laughed as she grabbed Andrew’s basket from the sink. “I know, right?”

She laid out each different ingredient before each person. She gave herself the onions, Andrew the peppers, and Chris the herbs while instructing both to dice their plants into small squares. Chris continued his tirade of questions as he held down the cilantro stems.

“Why do we have so much lime juice left over?”

“That,”—she cut her onion in half, removing the center—”is for what we’re making right now. La leche de tigre. Tiger’s milk, if you will. It’s really just sauce we add for flavor.”

Chris nodded, his knife slicing into the herb in front of him. “How much of this do you need?”

Alyssa waggled her hand in front of her in a so-so motion. “Eh. A good handful. Up to you, really.”

Chris’ motions slowed minutely, and he blinked. “Oh.”

Alyssa looked up at him. “Is that okay?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I’m more of a baker, I’m used to exact amounts. Vague measurements are more intimidating.”

“Oh! Gotcha, no worries. I’ll keep an eye out and tell ya when to stop.”

Chris smiled. “Thanks.”

Cooking had always been more of a chore to Andrew. Hanging out with his sister was all good and well, and they always whipped up something delicious, but he never saw it as more than a means to an end. But standing here, watching the two people he held dearest engage in a passionate conversation about their similar hobbies, he realized that maybe there could be more to it. Maybe this part of the day could become something he looked forward to in future days… months…

…years?

Andrew was never one to plan out his future in great detail. Hell, he barely knew what he wanted to do with his life. He’d always been the kind of guy to just live day by day, following the current wherever it took him. But he wouldn’t lie and say the thought of spending every day like this wasn’t appealing. Getting to wake up every day in the warm embrace of the love of his life, sharing his heart and passions with that boy and learning everything there was to learn about him in return, treasuring every second spent with him through exciting and monotonous activities alike, falling deeper and deeper in love with the man he wanted to one day call his husband—

Woah. Ok. Slow down, Andrew.

He shook the corny thoughts from his head. You have all the time in the world, treasure what’s happening right now.

“Anni? You good there?”

“Hm? Yeah, sorry Lys, what’s up?”

“Gimme your peppers, and go grab some plates for us if you would.”

The three of them sat huddled around their tiny kitchen island, the two boys next to each other with Alyssa across from them, as she scooped dinner onto each of their plates.

“Oh my god, this looks amazing.”

Andrew smiled adoringly at Chris’ awestruck face. “Moment of truth, are you ready?”

The siblings watched with bated breaths as the boy stabbed his fork into a chunk of fish, slathering it in the sauces on his plate. He raised it, teasingly slow as he giggled at the others’ faces, and popped it in his mouth.

He chewed once, and his eyes widened to saucers.

“Holy shit.”

As he spoke, saliva sprayed all over the counter. His hand flew to his mouth.

All three of them burst out in laughter.

“Du-hude, gro-ho-hoss.”

“Shut up!”

“I take it you like it, then?”

“It’s fuckin’ delicious, Alyssa!”

No, Andrew thought, if this is how every day went from now on, he wouldn’t be upset at all.