🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

‘Sir’. 

Did Robert just ‘sir’ him? 

Um. Um. Um. 

Choking on laughter, helpless, Byron shoves lightly at Robert’s shoulder in faint retaliation for the remark. The man is smug and grinning against Byron’s skin, and honestly, he ought to be more offended than he is. In actuality, he’s just- endeared. It’s nice to have Robert smiling so much, and nice to hear him laugh. The man holds so much self-loathing within himself that it’s painful to watch at times. There’s only so much that a heart can take, he rather thinks- and he’d like to help, in any way that he can. 

Apparently, being himself helps. Who’da thunk it?

“Adorable. Precious. Endearing.” Byron fires back, grinning even as he strokes at Robert’s hair again. The nip makes him yelp and then he snickers. “ADORABLE, Robert.”

🔪🔪 Fuck, when did he become this person? When did his heart get so light and his smile start to come so easily? He certainly wasn’t like this yesterday. Hell, he hadn’t even been this way this morning. But then...Byron hadn’t been around during those times. That’s sure as fuck saying something. Not that Robert really gets what it’s saying...or really even notices that anything is being said. He doesn’t notice much of anything right now save for how nice this is. This is the kind of ignorance that he can get behind-  the blissful kind. He’s okay with this. It’s worth it.

           He’s always looking for new ways to shut the world out. Right now, it feels like nothing can touch him. 

                                                                                                                    Except Byron.

           Robert stumbles a little when he’s pushed but holds tight to the other with something that sounds dangerously similar to a fucking giggle. Disgusting. “Shut up.” He laughs again. But fuck, does that flutter in his heart return a little at being called adorable. Is he? No. Does he love that Byron thinks that he is? Well, fuck yes. Adorable is good. Byron thinks that he’s something good, and he’s wanted to be good for so long but can’t seem to be. This is the closest he’s come in such a long time.

“I’m not adorable.” He protests, vaguely, even as his shoulders shake with laughter. “I’m a soldier. I’m manly and badass as hell, Robert.” His voice tries damn hard to be indignant, but he’s too bemused, and too moonstruck to hold it up. He’s giddy with it- it’s been so long since he’s felt this light, and that’s a scary feeling. It’s- strange, and it’s like falling, but he’s okay with it- maybe more than he ought to be. Doesn’t matter, though- they’re both smiling, they’re both laughing, so he thinks that.. This.. This is alright. He can have this, right now at least. 

A slow sigh, and he leans into Robert’s hold, quietly. He’s not a small man, but then he simply melts into touches like this- he folds in on himself, almost. Touch-starved, a little, but he doesn’t exactly admit to it. His own fingers run through Robert’s hair- muss it a little, playfully, and then he leans more heavily on the leather-clad man’s shoulder, sighing. 

“You’re adorable. Fuck, man.”

🔪🔪 “Mmm, yes, sir. Of course you are.” He hums with a smirk that Byron certainly can’t see but can probably feel against his neck. Hell, he probably doesn’t even need any indication that it’s there to know. Just the tone itself screams smug. Byron can’t hide how fucking cute he is, and Robert loves that. He’s sweet. He’s kind. He’s good. He’s everything that Robert is so sure that he’s not and never can or will be. It’s something special- finding someone in the world like that. People like Byron don’t really exist. He’s a fucking cryptid all his own. Best one Robert’s been lucky enough to learn about yet.

           He can feel it when Byron leans into him. There’s something that he likes about the way that they’re the same height. They’re equal. They fit together. Even though Byron is so beyond too good for him in way that it’s stupid.

                                                  Okay, maybe they’re not that equal.

He’s puffing on laughter, leans slightly into the kiss on his cheek. He feels- a little off-kilter, a lot confused, but so blissfully endeared at this moment that he’s not sure it matters too much. There’s a smile on his own mouth- bigger, wider than Robert’s and no less sincere for it. He looks up, and taps Robert’s chin, after a moment, gently. “I like this.” He says softly, meaning the smile. Real ones on Robert’s face are rarer, after all. 

“I like you.” He says- an echo of Robert’s words. It’s funny- the liking had snuck up on him. He’s been alone for a long time, before even Kore- he and his daughter had been the only two in their little orbit for a long time, and well, LIKING someone was never part of the plan. 

Well, he supposed plans were kind of hard anyway, so, what did it matter in the end?

“I mean. Too. I like you too. That. Words.”

Sometimes he swears he’s the lamest dad on the planet. No, just the lamest guy, not even just the lamest dad. Awkward, awkward Byron, but hell did he try, and the sheepish sort of smile he directs at Robert is something like an apology for that particular trait.

🔪🔪 He has no idea what he did to deserve having someone like Byron in his life, but in that moment, he can’t be fucked to care because that man is smiling, and seeing him smile, knowing that he’d had a hand in it, was a goddamn miracle. Byron being happy makes Robert happy. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful. Is it really that simple? He can’t remember the last time that he’s felt pure, easy happiness, but this is it. This is real. This is what being happy feels like. Robert can barely even recognize it, but once he does... It’s better than anything any drink can do for him.

           And when Byron taps his chin like that, he can’t help but chuckle softly. I like this. Good. I like you. His heart fucking flutters. Byron likes him. Is he...supposed to feel like this with his friend? Maybe he doesn’t quite know. He doesn’t realize that friends shouldn’t make your heart flutter.

🔪🔪 He doesn’t quite know how proper affection works anymore. He’s struggled with it all his life, but the past few years have really taken a toll on his ability to make sense of it. There’s a very certain fondness that he feels for Byron though, that’s developed over the course of their friendship. This was friendship, right? This was what it was supposed to be? He has Mary, but they just...drink. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to go?

           Robert doesn’t know, but he wants Byron to know that he’s valued, that he matters to someone. Fuck knows he matters all too much to the absolute mess of a human being that is Robert Small. This is his friend, who means something to him. This is how all of this works, isn’t it? Friends do this.

           Friends look at their friends and feel the sudden need to pull him in against their body and press an unannounced kiss to that friend’s lips, to continue kissing him and squeeze the hand that they’re holding, while the other one curls around the back of their friend’s neck to hold him close and drain as much intimacy from the moment as they can. Goddamn, he’s so very, very starved for true intimacy, and when he’s kissing Byron, it’s like some part of his brain wakes up, shakes off the dust, and starts yelling at him that this is good. This is right. This is better than all of the anonymous sex that he tries so, so hard to fill the void with and get his fix from. That’ll satisfy him for a night. This? This will keep Robert going for days.

                                                     Friends.

           He’s actually smiling when Byron breaks the kiss, a soft little one that doesn’t falter even as the other looks down and away from him. Still chasing that feeling, Robert leans in just another tiny bit to leave a barely there kiss against the other’s cheek. He likes this friend thing. “Just be you.” He replies quietly. He hasn’t moved away. Doesn’t want to. Not going to until something makes him. “I like you.”

u cant block what u love!!!!!!!!