ʙ ʀ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ

Nate set their plates on the coffee table, shaking his head. “Blaine Michael,” he spoke warmly. “You do realize by saying that I have terrible taste, you’re basically talking shit about yourself.” He plucked the egg roll from Blaine’s hand and dropped it onto his paper plate. Sam and Everett had gifted them actual china one year for Christmas, but they never used it. “I’d rather die–” he licked the grease off his thumb “–than put duck sauce on my egg roll. It needs sodium. Soy sauce and egg rolls are perfect together,” Nate insisted. “Duck sauce is for ducks. End of.“ 

“I figured your taste in food would have improved to catch up with your amazing taste in life partners.” He shrugged, reaching in the bag for the rest of the food. “Guess I was wrong.”

Soon enough, he found them, turning to face his Nate with a packet of duck sauce in one hand and an egg roll in the other. The egg roll pointed in Nate’s direction was almost accusatory in nature, Blaine’s tone teasing. “Since becoming my husband, have your opinions on Chinese food sauces and how to use them changed at all or are they still terrible?” 

“That’s what they called me in school. Mr. Gift-That-Keeps-On-Giving.” Actually they didn’t. It was more along the lines of “Pretty Boy” or “That Indian Kid”. Ali shrugged lightly. “Depends. Do ya want me to? ‘Cause if you do, then yeah. I’ll give you.” He kissed Drew softly, taking his time and circling her tongue with his own. “What d’you wanna do?” He murmured against her mouth. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to. What’s the saying? ‘Ask and you shall receive?’” Drew bit his lip, shifting so she could straddle his legs. “So, how about...you give first and maybe, if you do a good job, you get to receive. That’s what I want.”

Ali grinned, tongue peeking beneath his front teeth. “Don’t you know? I’m the gift that keeps on givin’.” He bucked his hips up, making her boobs bounce. He held back a chuckle. “Before Marcos’ gig goes off, I’ll get you somethin’ nice. We’ll go shopping.” Ali loved shopping with Drew. He loved pretending to window shop. He loved watching her try on clothes. He loved fucking her in the dressing room. “Maybe those earrings you’ve had your eye on, hm?” 

What a dork. She shook her head, pressing another kiss to his lips. “I was only kidding. But. I’m not turning down a shopping trip.” Their shopping trips were hands down the best shopping trips, especially when more went down than just shopping. “Do you plan on ‘giving’ today though, Mr. Gift-That-Keeps-On-Giving?”

“Might? Well, that’s kin’a shitty.” Ali pouted while his hands gently rested against her thighs like magnets. He drew his name in Urdu with his thumb as he sighed quietly. “I think I deserve it. I had a long day. Promo. Schmoozin’. Dealin’ with Wesley’s ass.” He looked up. “You know how that is. But,” he pulled his girlfriend closer to him “I got you now. S’all good.“ He bit his lip. “If I can’t get my present, can I get a kiss at least?” 

She pinched his side, rolling her eyes affectionately. “I’m not required to give you an early gift, you know. It’s not shitty.” Recognizing the pattern he stroked into her thigh, she smiles at the possessiveness of the action. His name on her skin. “Awh, baby boy. Life is so hard for you.” Drew presses a kiss to his lips before leaning back quickly, face scrunched up in adorable indignation. “Hold on, did you get me an early gift?”

“Does that mean my baby girl got me an early Christmas present?” 

“I might have.” Drew twirls before settling in Ali’s lap, her legs thrown over his, wiggling until she was comfortable. “Not sure if you deserve it yet. You haven’t been paying much attention to me.” It wasn’t sure in the slightest, but if you asked her, less than 99% of Ali’s attention was way too little, and pretty much unacceptable.

Ali relaxed under Jesse’s weight, letting tone arms move him as he pleased. Ali was pliant in anticipation, but remained curious at the pressure against his wrists. He raised a brow at his lover, mouth parted in unrealized thought. Jesse’s gently possessive touch, was paradox of strength and sensitivity that made Ali’s mind do backflips, made everything inside his body spin and spark. “Maybe I can’t,” he uttered truthfully, edging up for a kiss. “You got me sprung, boy.” He pulled his knees up, brushing long limbs against Jesse’s sides. 

Tifa stumbled mid-step when he didn’t budge, knee hitting against his thigh in stuttered surprise. “Wes,” she pouted. Their hands stayed locked, nimble fingers resting perfectly together, as they always did. She tugged again unsuccessfully. “We don’t need to talk. I…” Tifa bit at her lip. “It’s easier if we don’t.” His touch was eroding at her resolve, her defenses. God, not again. Tifa yanked her hand away, leaving her back to him and fighting back blurred vision. She didn’t want to miss him. Wes had hurt her. Why did she still sleep in his shirts? He didn’t deserve to be talked to. Why did she keep the pictures of him on her phone? Tifa was tired of crying herself to sleep and pretending everything was fine. She didn’t need him. She didn’t– The softness of his questions had swept over her skin like a fever dream and she rubbed at her arms, erasing the goosebumps  from his gentle smoker’s rasp. “There’s nothing left to say, Wes.” 

He followed her unwittingly, drifting after her like he couldn’t help himself, like she had some kind of pull on him (she did, she did), like they were tethered to each other (they were). Pale hands reached out to touch, to hold and comfort like they used to, but once again fell short, hovering, like they were nervous, before falling to his sides, like they were disappointed. They reached for each other instead, fingers twisting. He didn’t know what to do with them, felt stupid fidgeting, and let them fall to his sides again. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I really fucked up.” Understatement of the year, Wesley. But what else could he say? She was right, after all. There wasn’t anything else left. “I really fucked up. B- Tifa. I’m sorry.” He repeated, finally getting the courage to reach out, fingertips brushing against her shoulder tentatively. He wasn’t good at this, would never be good at this. Apologizing was never his strong suit. What came after ‘sorry’ when it was all you could offer and still not enough?

Nate tipped his head back, a delicate smirk gracing his features, as Blaine marked his jaw with loving attention. “Mm,” he moaned. “How do you wanna do this?” Power switched between them fluidly and positions were never an issue, but a simple preference–and those preferences changed depending on the mood, the situation, the setting. “Your woods, your rules, babe” Nate reasoned, greedily molding Blaine’s ass in his hands.

“Hmmm,” Blaine tapped his chin in mock concentration, head tilted cutely. “I think...” He mimicked Nate’s position, hands reaching down to grab at Nate’s ass with a smirk as he grinded their bodies together. “I think I wanna fuck you. Right out here in my woods. How’s that sound to you?”

Before Ali could argue, he was lying on his back, braced by large, toned arms and blue eyes that exceeded any possible description. There was no brilliantly-named hue, no perfectly illustrated metaphor that could encompass all that he felt when Jesse looked at him like he was his whole fucking world. Ali was always at a loss. He wished he was better with words, with… this. He moaned gently into the kiss, submitting to emotional defeat with a breathless sigh. “Jesse…” 

Victory. He smiled into the kiss. He was a hypocrite, he knew. You’re not playing fair, as if what he just did—was doing—was fair in the least bit. But it was worth it. All that mattered was them right here and now, his hands on Ali’s skin, his name on Ali’s lips like a prayer, pulling his attention away from her. “I love that,” Jesse admitted, pulling away just enough to speak. “When you say my name like you can’t help yourself.” He moved to lift Ali’s arms above his head, hands wrapped around his wrists, pressing them into the pillows. 

Tifa sighed, for probably the sixteenth time that night, and leaned her back against the table. “A bong vase isn’t exactly classy.” Tone sifted into sadness and Tifa found it hard not to reminisce on the last time they’d had Chinese takeout and made love against the wall. “You need to be there for Peyton. I want her to know her dad, Wes. She needs you.” Tifa refused his eyes, struggling to swallow down the urge to cry. “I don’t. So other than this box–which you are taking with you when you leave–there’s no reason for you to come by when she’s not with me. We don’t have anything together anymore. You saw to that,” she snapped. “So you can take–” Tifa reached for Wes’ hand to pull him out of the chair “–your ass home.”

He itched to say something stupid, always wanted to say something stupid when things got like this. He wanted to keep the tone light. It can be, he wanted to reply, this is a classy ass bong. The words were there on the tip of his tongue but then her tone shifted, turned sour. So he swallowed them and said nothing, let them sit heavy like the guilt that washed over him with every word she spoke. It wasn’t like Tifa said anything he didn’t already know. But the words made him uneasy, fell too heavily, rang too true. She needs you. I don’t. Wes wanted to bolt, leave just like she wanted him to. His leg bounced, anxious, jittery, as her voice broke just slightly. He pretended not to notice, let her have that at least. She took his hand but still he didn’t budge. But he didn’t let her go either. “So what, I can only see you if I’m coming to see her? And then what? You gonna ignore me? Act like I’m not there, not gonna talk to me or anything?” Whiskey eyes flickered over her face before dropping, once again focused intently elsewhere, their hands, the table and back to their hands. “We can’t talk anymore? Huh? You don’t wanna talk to me?”

“Your woods? Really? You make it seem like you’re an alpha or something,” Nate chided. He kissed Blaine’s smile, jerking at the cold touch and bumping their teeth together on accident. “God! You’re supposed to be warm.” He reached for Blaine’s ass, squeezing firmly. “My personal furnace.” He growled and playfully bit at his husband’s bottom lip. “If you wanted to fuck outside, all you had to do was ask, babe.” 

“Mmhm.” Blaine hummed, raked his nails over Nate’s skin. “My woods.” Blaine licked at Nate’s lips, pressing their hips together, closer still. He wasn’t cold but he wanted more, always more. They were never close enough. He was never satisfied until they were wrapped up in each other, wound so tightly that he couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended. He giggled, cheeks hot. Still even now, after all these years, Nate made him blush. “I want to, then,” he whispered, leaning up to nip at Nate’s jaw. “I wanna fuck out here.”

“I talk about you too, Jess.” Ali took his opportunity to crawl onto his best friend’s lap. “All the time. I don’t shut up about people I like.” With their fingers intertwined, a gentle rush of warmth spread inside Ali’s stomach. He kissed at Jesse’s knuckles. “People I love.” He encouraged Jesse to smile with a grin of his own, ultimately lowering his head  to press a chaste kiss on the other’s mouth. “It means something to me.” Something he couldn’t quite explain.

Tifa groaned, dragging her feet across the carpet. “Wes, please just take the box.” She leaned her arms on the chair as he dug through the cardboard, hair falling in front of her shoulders. “The only gift I’m keeping from you is my baby. You can keep the rest. Give it to your new girl.” She shook her head, a small smile tickling the edges of her mouth. “As they should. Those are dumb.” She missed those two. After the fallout with Wes, there was no point in staying friends with Jesse and Ali. Tifa reached over Wes’ arm and snatched the small glass sculpture, swiftly dropping it back in the box. “Take it.” Her lips were close to his face and she found herself lingering on the permanent shade of pink on his cheeks. She lifted up, aggravated at herself. “Wes, you really need to get your shit and leave.” 

“You used to say they were cute.” His hand reached out to grab hers on instinct, desperately wanting to stop its retreat, but hesitating, hovering just for a second before returning to rest on the table in front of him. “Its yours. It’s weird to re-gift bongs anyway. I mean, would you take a used bong?” He chuckled nervously. “I mean, I know you clean them but. Bongs are personal. Anyway, I uh. I bought it for you. So. Keep it. Put flowers in it, I dunno.” Wes shrugged again, staring ahead at nothing, brows knitted together in a frown. He didn’t move to get up, stubbornly staying planted in the chair. “I’m serious, you know. About the whole ‘be there’ thing. How the fuck does that even work? I need to leave but I need to be here. ‘Fuck does that even mean.”

Ali hummed gently, in soft melodic agreement, before realization smacked him between the eyes. He pushed Jesse back. “It’s kind of important.” Ali mumbled. His hands stayed splayed on Jesse’s smooth chest. “She’s my girlfriend,” he explained sweetly. “I can’t not talk about her. She doesn’t stop existing because we fuck, Jess.” Fingertips slid down to Jesse’s abs, idly drawing along the impressive definition, suddenly distracted. “Why were you rambling?” 

Oh, he was well aware of that fact. Too aware that she still existed, she was still around (always around) regardless of who Ali was with. He couldn’t help but wonder if the rule applied to him as well. Did he still exist then? When Drew and Ali were wrapped around each other? “You could.” Jesse sighed, falling back onto the bed. “But you won’t.” He gave Ali a rueful smile, always ready to lessen the blow of his words with him, protect his feelings at all costs. Jesse reached out, laced their fingers. “People ramble, gorgeous. Doesn’t always mean anything.” Except for when it does.

Water speckled Nate’s lenses, as he fought Blaine off, a smile gracing his features from bitten-back laughter. “Blaine!” Finally he scrambled to his feet, tossing the hose back towards the side of the cabin and turned the water off. No sense in wasting it. 

A husky chuckle rustled from his throat, matching the wet, bright orange leaves that stuck to the porch banisters. Nate’s voice had always sounded like country, especially in the fall. Nate wiped his glasses on his shirt. “You do realize you’re naked, right?” He grinned secretively. “We’re in the woods, Blaine Michael. Not a nudist colony.” 

With Nate’s glasses off temporarily, Blaine took the opportunity to nuzzle into him, brushing their noses together as he pressed their bodies even closer. “My woods,” he murmured, grinning up into Nate’s face. “I can be naked if I want.” His tone was mischievous, bare arms wrapping around Nate’s torso, cold hands slipping under his light jacket.

“You had plenty chances to “be there” before.” Tifa finger quoted right back at him with a roll of her eyes. Wes just had to continue to be difficult. Last time she checked, she wasn’t the one that was a cheater and a deadbeat fucking dad. “Don’t be an asshole,” she warned in a quiet breath. “Anyway,” she pointed to the box on the dining room table, “that’s the rest of your shit: your bongs, your little… wireless whatever. Your games. All of it. So just take it and go.”