some guy who writes some shit

The dorm room smelled faintly of old books, coffee, and the cedar candle Sam always forgot to blow out. Criminal Law II notes were spread across his narrow bed like battle plans, highlighters in three different colors because of course they were. You sat cross-legged at the foot of the mattress in cutoff shorts and one of his oversized flannel shirts you’d “borrowed” two weeks ago and never returned.

“So,” you said, tapping your pen against your lower lip, “explain the difference between malice aforethought and depraved-heart murder again?”

Sam pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing in that earnest, devastating way that made your stomach flip. “Right. Malice aforethought requires intent to kill or intent to cause serious bodily harm knowing it could result in death. Depraved-heart is more… reckless indifference to human life. Like firing a gun into a crowded room. Extremely high risk, conscious disregard—”

You leaned forward until your cleavage pressed against the edge of the textbook between you. “Mmm. Reckless indifference. Sounds hot when you say it like that.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Cheeks going faintly pink. “I—uh. Is it… hot? I mean, legally it’s just a mens rea category—”

You laughed under your breath and crawled forward, slow, deliberate, until you were kneeling between his sprawled legs. “Sam.”

“Yeah?” His voice cracked on the single syllable. Adorable.

“I didn’t ask you here to study.”

He swallowed so hard you saw his throat work. “You… you said you were struggling with the felony-murder rule.”

“I was struggling with how long it’s taking you to notice I want to climb you like the Stanford library stacks.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Oh. Oh.” A nervous laugh. “I thought—I mean, I hoped—but I didn’t want to assume because consent is—”

You cut him off by leaning in and brushing your lips over his, soft at first, testing. He froze for half a heartbeat—long enough for doubt to flicker through you—then his big hands came up to cradle your face like you were made of glass, and he kissed you back.

Gentle. Careful. Achingly sweet.

Until you nipped his bottom lip and he groaned into your mouth, control fraying.

You slid down his body, palms dragging over the soft cotton of his T-shirt, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. When you reached the waistband of his jeans he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” You popped the button, dragged the zipper down with your teeth just to watch his eyes darken behind those ridiculous glasses. “I really, really want to.”

He was already hard, thick and leaking against the cotton of his boxers. You tugged everything down just enough and wrapped your fingers around him, stroking once, slow. His head thunked back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word sounding almost shocked coming from him.

You smiled, filthy and pleased, then took him into your mouth.

Sam Winchester made the most beautiful broken sounds—half-whimpers, half-curses—fingers threading into your hair without pulling, just holding on like he might float away if he let go. You worked him with tongue and lips and the slightest scrape of teeth until his thighs trembled and his breathing turned ragged.

“Sweetheart—wait—I’m gonna—”

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder.

He came with a choked groan, hips jerking, spilling hot and thick down your throat while his thumb stroked reverent circles over your cheekbone.

When you finally pulled off, licking your lips, he looked wrecked—glasses askew, chest heaving, eyes glassy.

“C’mere,” he rasped, hauling you up like you weighed nothing.

You straddled him, grinding down against the sensitive length still twitching between you. He yanked your shorts and panties to the side with shaking hands, not even bothering to take them off.

“Condom?” you managed.

“Wallet. Nightstand.”

You stretched, snagged it, tore the packet with your teeth. He rolled it on with practiced efficiency that made you raise a brow.

“Boy Scout,” he muttered, blushing harder.

Then he was guiding himself to your entrance, both of you gasping when he notched inside. You sank down slowly—inch by torturous inch—until your hips met his and he bottomed out with a low, guttural sound.

For a second neither of you moved. Just breathing each other in. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish.

Then you rolled your hips.

Sam’s head fell forward, forehead pressed to yours. “God. You feel—”

You clenched around him on purpose.

“—so fucking good.”

He started thrusting up into you—tentative at first, then harder when you moaned his name like a prayer. The bed creaked. Textbooks slid to the floor. You rode him with single-minded focus, chasing that bright edge, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

He slipped a hand between you, thumb finding your clit with surprising accuracy for someone who’d been clueless ten minutes ago.

“Come with me,” he panted against your mouth. “Please. Wanna feel you—”

You shattered first—clenching tight, crying out his name into the crook of his neck. He followed seconds later, hips snapping up hard, burying himself as deep as he could while he pulsed inside you, groaning your name like it was the only word he remembered.

After, you stayed locked together, sweaty and trembling, his arms wrapped around you like he never planned to let go.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, voice hoarse. “So… still need help with felony murder?”

You laughed, breathless, against his throat. “Think I just aced reckless indifference.”

He smiled—shy, sated, stupidly happy—and pulled you down for another slow, lazy kiss.

Criminal law could wait until morning.

When you had first moved in, about two years ago, Five had been suspicious about what kind of neighbor he would be getting. The old couple that had lived in your house previously had been quiet and kept to themselves. Once in a while the old man would nod in Five’s direction, but that was the extent of their relationship. Which was exactly how Five liked it. 

Then the old man died and the lady sold the house. Five remembered the day you moved in. He had stood in his own small, unassuming house across the street and watched from the front window. He watched as you struggled with the unwieldy boxes and awkward furniture. It didn’t look like anyone was coming to help you and you had driven the moving van yourself. 

Five rolled his eyes and frowned, sipping at his coffee while muttering critiques to himself. When he saw you trying to drag an entire couch out of the van all by yourself, he sighed heavily. 

He had blinked directly next to you, scaring the shit out of you and making you drop the couch leg on your foot, which in turn made you scream from fright and from pain. Five had hastily lifted the furniture off of you. 

“Don’t you have any help?” he had asked, annoyed, like it was your fault he just tried to permanently cripple you. 

As you rubbed your foot with a scowl, you shook your head. “No, I don’t. My deadbeat ex-boyfriend decided to break up with me the night before he was supposed to help me move. But thanks for giving me a heart attack while also fracturing my foot. That really helps my already stellar situation I have going on here.” 

A total smart ass, Five had thought. He liked you immediately. 

Five was the only neighbor that came to your aid that day, and you and he managed to move all of your stuff in a couple of hours. He was smart and quick-witted; snapping back with his own biting commentary whenever you would throw a sarcasm grenade his way. It was an easy rapport right from the start. 

He had you laughing, and frustrated, and swearing under your breath. Sometimes all in the span of about thirty seconds. None of that has really changed over the past couple of years. Five is your friend. Your best friend maybe, as sad as that is. He’s infuriating and unintentionally hilarious, and surprisingly sweet. He gets you and respects you, even if he frequently insults your life choices. Usually regarding men. 

You have a key to Five’s house and he has one to yours. Although, he never bothers to use his. He much prefers blinking in and out of your house, even though you have expressed your feelings about that several times. 

“What if I have a date here?” you had asked him once. “What if you blink right into the middle of me getting some action?” 

He had scoffed. “The day that happens is the day I’ll eat my own hand.” 

“You’re saying I can’t get a guy?” 

“I’m saying you can’t get a guy to stay more than ten minutes.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you had asked, offended. 

Five had tilted his head in that annoying way he does when he thinks he’s talking to some sort of lower lifeform. Dogs. Children. Morons. 

“I hate to break it to you, honey, but you have a very specific talent for scaring men away.” 

You had crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear the great Five Hargreeves’ thoughts on the matter. And don’t call me honey. You know I hate that.” 

Five had chucked. “See? Right there. You get so defensive.” 

“And you don’t?” 

“We’re not talking about me, now, are we?” 

“Look, if grown ass men can’t handle the opinions—” 

“Strong opinions,” Five butted in with a grin. 

“—of a woman, then good luck to them. I don’t need that shit. I’m not going to compromise and not speak my mind.” 

“I don’t think we’re in danger of you not speaking your mind.” 

“Five?” 

“Yes?” 

“I really hate you, you know that?” 

Five had smiled widely before crossing to the fridge and helping himself to one of your beers. “No, you don’t,” he said casually while reaching for the bottle opener. “But seeing as how I’m all you have right now, want to watch a movie?” 

With another heavy sigh and a reluctant smile, you accepted the beer Five held out to you before he grabbed another one for himself. “Yeah, sure. But I’m picking it this time. The last time you chose a documentary on planes and I thought I was going to slip into a coma.” 

“That was a very informative piece chronicling the historical significance of commercial air travel on our society as humans.” 

You stared at him, one eyebrow raised. “It’s my house and I have veto power. I’m picking.” 

Five smirked and shrugged. “Whatever you say, honey.”

This evening, Five is sitting alone at home, having finished his sad little dinner for one and contemplating going to bed early. As usual, he had kept an eye out for you from across the street. He knew you were out on another date. This time with a man you had claimed to really like. After your first date, you had come loudly barging into Five’s house, raving about how wonderful this guy was. Five had his doubts. But he had kept that to himself and said he was happy for you. 

This was the third date you two were on, and Five kept glancing out the front window, looking for signs that you were back home. He didn’t like knowing you were out with some man Five didn’t know. He had told you he thought he should meet these potential love interests before you went out with them, for safety reasons. You had looked at him like he was insane and then laughed, thinking he was kidding. He wasn’t, but he dropped the subject. 

Headlights burn through the blinds of the window as a car drives up and into your driveway. Five stands up and walks to the window, peeking out as inconspicuously as possible. It is your car and he watches as you get out, slamming the door behind you. He waits to see if anyone else is with you, but it doesn’t appear so. You stomp angrily up to your door and kick it open, slamming it shut with a loud bang that he can hear from across the street. 

Five stands there, wondering what to do. Obviously, you are upset about something, and as your friend he wants to know what. But if he goes over there right now, you’ll know he was spying on you. He decides to wait a few minutes. 

Then he picks up his phone and texts you. 

I was up and saw your car. You’re home ok? 

There is a lag of a minute or two before you answer. 

Yeah. All good. 

Five knows that’s a lie. 

Want some company? 

There is another long pause. 

Sure. 

Five grabs a bottle of your favorite vodka that he keeps in his house, even though he never drinks it himself, and walks across the street before blinking inside your house like usual. He finds you sitting in the dark, in your living room, slumped on the couch. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, setting the bottle down on an end table. “You ok?” 

You sniff and wipe at your face. “Yeah, doing great. Thanks for asking.” 

Five sits next to you and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. What happened?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual. I did what you say I always do. I scared him away.” 

Five reaches over and clicks on the table lamp nearby. You squint into the light and he sees your face streaked with tears; your mascara leaving little black trails over your cheeks. His chest tightens. 

“What did this guy do?” he asks with a little more heat behind his words. 

You shake your head. “Nothing. I just… “You start to cry again, holding your face in your hands. “I don’t get it. Am I that annoying? I thought we had a good thing going and then out of the blue he gives me the ‘It’s not you it’s me’ bullshit. But of course it’s me!” You sob harder. “Why does this always happen, Five? Seriously, tell me. I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

Five reaches over and rubs your back. “Hey… there is nothing wrong with you. This guy is clearly a deranged asshole if he can’t see how great you are.” 

You look up. “You think I’m great?” 

Five makes his huffy, irritated expression. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” 

You smile a little. “I’m serious, Five. This dating thing is brutal.” 

“Then why do it?” 

“Why date?” you ask, like that is the dumbest question ever posed. “I don’t know. Because I’d like to find a partner to share my life with. Someone to love. Isn’t that what most people want?”

Five pauses. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.” 

You snort indignantly. “You’re so weird.” 

Five ignores your comment. “Want a drink?” 

“God, yes.” 

Five gets up and finds glasses in your kitchen, filling one of them with ice before bringing them into the living room. He pours a generous amount of vodka into the glass with ice and hands it to you. 

“Thanks. There’s whiskey in the –” 

“I know,” he says as he walks over to the cabinet you keep the liquor in. 

He reaches down and picks up the bottle that you keep just for him. You don’t touch the stuff. Five pours his own glass and comes back over to sit next to you. He leans back on the couch, completely comfortable. He takes a sip of his drink and you take one of yours. The ice clinking in your glass is the only sound for several minutes. But that also is comfortable. 

“So, why have you never thought about it?” you ask, out of the blue. 

“About what?” 

“Settling down. Finding a special person. Being in love. All that shit.” 

Five shrugs. “It’s more like if it happens it happens. There’s no use in trying to force it.” 

You laugh quietly, your body starting to relax a little bit. “So, you think the woman of your dreams is just going to show up at your doorstep one day? Knock on your door and be like ‘Oh, hey Five, I’ve been looking for you! Want to build a life together?’” 

He scoffs. “No, idiot. But I just don’t see the point of going on all of these dating sites and trying to pick a soul mate like you’re shopping for groceries. That’s not how that works.” 

You look sadly into your glass. “Well, it might. You don’t know.” 

Five looks at you thoughtfully. “Why is it so important for you to find someone? You have a good job, a nice house, you’re independent.” He smirks. “And you have me.” 

You sigh but it turns into a breathy laugh. “Well, shit… now I’m even more depressed.” 

“Fuck you,” Five says with a chuckle. He lays his arm across the back of the couch. “Come here, crazy. I know you’re going to cry again. You can use my shirt.” 

Smiling through your fresh tears, you lean into him and he puts his arm around your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. He gives you a small kiss on the top of your head. “You’re gonna be alright,” he tells you gently. “Somewhere out there is a man just waiting to put up with you.” 

“Promise?” you ask with a sniffle. 

“I promise.” 

Later that night, after another drink and some more easy conversation, Five says goodnight and leaves. He tells you he’ll check up on you in the morning. After he blinks out of your house, he walks across to his. Inside, he walks upstairs to his bedroom, intent on going to sleep. As he begins to close the blinds to the window that faces the street, he can’t help but look across at your place one last time. 

You have always been careful about closing your curtains at night. Five knew this because… well, because he likes to make sure no creeps can see inside your house. As a woman living alone, you really need to be aware of those things. But tonight, you seemed to have forgotten. 

Five can see you in your bedroom, your light on full blast as you walk around, no doubt getting ready for bed yourself. He sighs and reaches for his phone, intending to text you and tell you to draw your curtains. As he takes his phone out of his pocket, though, he stops. 

That vodka must have made you extra tipsy, because you don’t seem to be aware at all that you are about to give Five a private peep show. You pull your shirt over your head and throw it somewhere on the ground. Five’s mouth opens and shuts for a second, like a fish. He knows he should turn away, or shut his own blinds. But then the skirt comes off. 

Five remembers you telling him that you were going to wear your good underwear that night, just in case. It did not disappoint. Black, lacy, sheer, and miniscule. 

“Fuck,” Five whispers to himself. There’s a loud clunk as his phone hits the floor. 

You seem to stand there forever, right in the middle of the window. What are you doing, anyway? Five has no idea. And frankly, he doesn’t care. He is stunned by how beautiful you look. Of course he’s always known you were attractive. Your relationship may be platonic, but he isn’t blind. 

Now, though, he can see every curve of your body. Your perfect breasts that are enhanced and pushed up by the fancy bra you are wearing. Your ass that is barely covered by the thin material of your panties. Five has told you you had a nice butt before, just to get a rise out of you, but he wasn’t lying. And now there it was, in full view. Five audibly swallows and the sound is incredibly loud in his ears. 

He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. When he lets it out, it is harsh and shaky. He puts a hand to the window pane and leans in closer. 

This is fucked up, he thinks. I can’t be doing this. She’s my friend. This is weird. I need to turn– oh, holy fuck, there goes the bra. 

Five’s breath quickens and he suddenly becomes very warm. He knows he is probably blushing, but there is something else happening. He is definitely getting hard. 

How could he not, though? Your tits are just out there. And they are fucking amazing. He imagines running his hand and then his tongue over your erect nipples. Biting and sucking on them. He shudders and tugs at the crotch of his pants. 

“This is insane,” he says out loud. 

He watches as you turn around so that your beautifully round ass is facing him; the black lace of your tiny panties decorating the smooth skin of your cheeks. Five lets out a tiny moan. Then you reach over to your bed and grab a t-shirt. You pull it over your head and down your body, where it reaches to the middle of your thighs. When you cross the room and turn out the light, the show comes to an end. 

Five groans, resting his forehead against the window. “Shit shit shit shit,” he curses to himself. “Why did you do that?” he asks, both to himself and you. 

He decides to ignore the fact that his dick has been awakened and focuses on the fact that he needs to go to sleep. He closes up the house, turns out all the lights. Gets a glass of water. He washes his face. Brushes his teeth. Checks his phone for any messages. Strips down to his boxers and slips into bed. He stares up at the ceiling and blinks into the darkness. 

He’s still rock hard. 

“God damn it,” he mutters. He palms his crotch for some relief. “You cannot jerk off to her. You cannot.” 

A few minutes later, as Five is breathing hard and fast, trying to find the tissue box in the dark, with a load of cum in his hand, he swears again. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help picturing blinking over to your room and doing unspeakable things to you. The image just surfaced there, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. You, moaning and writhing beneath him, chanting his name while he fucked you harder and harder into the mattress. Your tits bouncing with every thrust. 

“Great,” he breathes out, after he’s cleaned himself up as best he can. “Good job. Fucking creep.” 

Five eventually falls asleep. When he wakes the next morning, he feels even worse. He feels guilty. Like he’s violated you in some way. Later in the day, there’s a knock on the door. 

Five knows it’s you and he starts to get nervous. He tugs at the sleeves of his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He answers the door and there you are. This time dressed, of course. 

“Wanna go to lunch?” you chirp. “I’ll buy.” 

Five pauses and tries to talk but it comes out all jumbled and weird. “Buy lunch? You want now to? Eat?” 

You openly stare at him like he’s completely lost it. “You ok? Why are you so pale and sweaty? Are you sick?” 

Five gathers himself up as much as he can. He clears his throat and passes a hand down his face, wiping the thin layer of cold sweat away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just… working out. You surprised me.” 

You raise one eyebrow. “You were working out in a button-down shirt? I know that’s your go-to, but I thought even you might throw on a t-shirt sometimes.” 

Five laughs nervously. Pull yourself together! he screams internally to himself. “Yeah, I haven’t done laundry in a while. This was all I had.” 

You make a quiet humming noise, looking him over before meeting his eyes again. “So… was that a yes to lunch, or…?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Five says, finally getting his shit together. “Sounds good.” 

“Great. We can take my car.” 

“No,” Five says flatly as he locks up his door. “I’m driving.” 

You sigh. “Really? Again with the driving thing?” 

“Yes, again with the driving thing. You almost killed me last time!” 

“I did not almost kill you,” you say wearily. 

“I was about two seconds away from blinking directly out of that death trap on wheels, just to save my own skin.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you say as Five opens the passenger door to his car to let you in. 

“And you’re a menace to society,” he tells you before shutting the door, cutting your rebuttal short. 

Five drives you to the diner you both like to frequent. The clatter of plates and silverware and “Order up’s” surround you as you walk in. You find a red vinyl-clad booth in the back and slide in across from one another. When the frazzled looking waitress brings you waters and then leaves again, you lean forward. 

“Hey, thanks for last night,” you say with a smile before taking a sip from your straw. “I know I was a mess.” 

Five leans back in his booth. “Yes, you are a mess, that’s for sure. But, you’re welcome.” 

You laugh and put your face in your hands. “Good lord, what is the matter with me? I’m acting like some doomed storybook princess that can’t function without a man to come along.” You look up at Five. “You’re right, you know.” 

“Obviously,” Five states, even though he doesn’t know what you are referring to. 

“I am successful and independent. I’m trying too hard to find this man that may or may not exist. I need to take a page from your book and just let it happen, right?” 

Five nods solemnly. “Taking my advice is always the right move.” 

“Shut up, ass,” you say with a giggle. “I’m serious. I’ve been going about this all wrong. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. And in the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy what I’ve got.” You give Five a shy smile before looking into your water glass. “And I’ve got you, so that’s pretty good already.” 

Five pretends to look surprised and leans forward. “What was that? I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say that I make your life fulfilling and joyful?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not at all what I said.” 

Five laughs and shakes his head. “Close enough.” 

The waitress comes back and you both order your usuals. A pastrami on rye with coffee for Five, and a grilled cheese with fries and a Coke for you. 

“You eat like a ten-year-old child,” Five says with a note of feigned disgust.

“And you eat like an 80-year-old man,” you bite back. 

You both smile at one another and settle into your normal routine as the old, bickering, but purely platonic, couple. 

It was happening again. Why was it happening again? Five lay there, in the dark, staring at the ceiling over his bed and wondering what you were up to. Your curtains were closed tonight; he had made sure of that (for security purposes only) before he had slid into bed. But that didn’t stop the imaginary scenarios from making their rounds through his mind again. 

God damn it, he thinks. Why did he watch you undressing before? Now that was all he could picture. Those smooth curves of your waist and hips, the way your ass tucked in tightly to the crease of your thighs. And, god, your tits were really amazing. Five considers himself a boob connoisseur, if you will, and yours were certainly at the top of all the pairs he’s ever been witness to. 

He sighs into the quiet of his room. He really does wonder what you are doing over there. Have you gone to bed yet? It was pretty late. 

Unable to help himself, Five gets up and goes to the window. Just as before, your curtains are drawn tightly. There is no light behind them, or anywhere else in the house that Five can see. He fiddles with the cord to his own blinds. He rubs at the back of his neck. He lets out a loud puff of air again. 

“Shit,” he mutters. 

The problem is, he wants to see you again. And not in a playful, friend-zone type of way. He wants to see the real you. Devoid of any mask you might wear when he’s around. He wants to know what you look like when you don't know he is watching. 

You know… like a fucking stalker. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he says out loud again before running his fingers aggressively through his hair. “You cannot do that.” 

But he can do that. He literally has the power to do it. 

Five has never blinked directly into your house from his before. He has always walked up to at least your walkway before barging in via space portal. But looking across the street now, Five runs a few numbers in his head. It was definitely doable. 

His hands flex anxiously at his sides. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he is gone. Enveloped in a flash of staticky blue light for one millisecond before appearing inside your home. He sucks in a loud breath of panic before getting his bearings in the darkness. He stands stock-still, holding his breath while he listens. 

You are in there, he can hear you. Your breaths are soft and rhythmic. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can see your silhouette in your bed. You are lying on your side, legs curled up to your stomach and your head tucked down. Five smiles. He had no idea you slept like a snail or a fetus. You sigh and rustle under your covers for a moment but then you still again. 

Five slowly nears your bed. He watches your face as you sleep; your eyelashes fluttering briefly over your cheekbones. Your hair is tangled in knots around your head. A tiny bit of drool has escaped down the side of your partially open mouth. Your feet are tangled in the bedsheets, forming a weird lump under the comforter. 

You are a disaster even as you sleep, and a little zap of what feels like lightning sizzles throughout his chest. 

He doesn’t touch you or disturb you in any way. He isn’t even aroused. He just takes in all of the details he never gets to see, and it makes him realize there is a whole other side to you that he didn’t know. Like how do you choose your outfits for the day? What did you look like when you brushed your hair and put your makeup on in the bathroom mirror? What did you look like when you were engrossed in a good book, or lost in a daydream? 

Why did he want to know so badly? 

Five tears his gaze away from you and looks around the room. He has been in there a couple of times before, when you had wanted to show him a new shirt or something you had bought. But it had been quick, little visits. Now he takes his time, wandering around the room, checking out the items on your dressers and nightstands. 

There is a framed photo of some family and friends at a wedding, and an old black and white one of whom Five assumes are your grandparents. A few pieces of jewelry lie around. Some bottles of perfume and an empty water glass. Inexplicably, there is an unopened jar of olives on top of the tallest dresser. Do you like to eat olives as a midnight snack in bed? If so, Five feels slightly hurt he didn’t know that about you already. Maybe you just got distracted putting groceries away one day. He wishes he could ask you so he could laugh about it with you. 

For a very brief moment, he thinks about waking you up. But the absolute shame and fear that would come with doing that was too much. He needs to get out of there. With one last look at your sleeping face and another quick survey of your room, Five reaches over and swipes a scrunchie off your nightstand and disappears with a soft pop and swoosh of air. 

When he is back in his own room, breathing hard and trembling, he looks at the item in his hand. What was he thinking? He stole a fucking hair tie from your room? Is he insane? 

Five legitimately thinks about it for a second. Was he insane? That would explain a lot, actually.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to evict this new sickness from his mind. It doesn’t seem to work. He fidgets with the scrunchie in his hand. It’s a soft green color and he stretches it and relaxes it a couple times. There’s a single strand of your hair tangled in it and he lightly rubs it between two fingers. 

Do NOT do what you are thinking of doing, Five warns himself sternly. Too late. 

He brings the scrunchie up to his face and takes a breath. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Your scent. You’ve hugged him and leaned against his shoulder enough times that he knows what your hair smells like. 

He doesn’t do anything else with it. Just lays it gently on his nightstand, looking at it thoughtfully like it were a living creature and he wasn’t sure how to take care of it. Then he puts his head in his hands and exhales loudly. 

“Fuck,” he groans. 

One would think that after that little infringement laced with shame, there would be no more. That Five would have learned his lesson and put his voyeur days behind him. But one would be wrong. 

Despite his internal struggle between good and bad, the devil on his shoulder always seems to win out. 

He doesn’t always steal stuff, and sometimes he replaces what he takes the next night. And it is never anything gross, like panties or bras. Mostly because he is afraid of opening any drawers and potentially waking you up. But if there are little things sprinkled around your room; little things he is sure you won’t miss, he can’t help himself. 

Really, though, he just watches you sleep. Once he blinked in to find you not in bed. Then he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom down the hall and he blinked back to his house, panicked and breathing hard. 

During the day, things go on as normal. You and he hang out as friends, laughing together and busting each other’s balls. You have lunch and dinners together, trading whose place to make and eat meals at. Now that you aren’t so caught up in the dating scene, Five is becoming even more of your companion and confidant. 

Five has gotten pretty good about covering up the fact that he is blinking into your house at night while you sleep. And maybe occasionally jerking off while thinking of you. There haven't been any more private strip shows, but sometimes there will be just a small slit in the curtains and he will get a nice glimpse of your silhouette every now and then. He uses those opportunities to his full advantage. 

With his bedroom light off, he will stand by the window, palming his aching dick through the crotch of his pants until he can’t take it anymore and he finds himself hurriedly shoving his pants down around his ankles, and reaching into his boxers. He will end up with a hand braced against the window or wall, eyes shut tight, breathing hard and fast through his nose while he grunts out your name under his breath and works his cock over like his life depends on it. 

Tonight, it’s dinner and a movie at his house. Five is in charge of the chicken and salad and you are bringing the wine. He opens the door before you can knock. 

“You’re late. The fucking chicken is getting cold,” he barks, but there is very little bite behind it. 

“Nice to see you too, Five,” you say with a syrupy smile as you pat his arm and close the door behind you. “Also, fuck off. My sink got clogged up and I had to plunge it like six times before it would open up again.” 

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over and done it,” he says with genuine concern. 

You point at yourself with your thumb. “Independent woman, remember?” You flex your biceps and grunt loudly. 

Five laughs and shakes his head. “Ok, well, the next time you don’t feel like being independent, let me know. I don’t mind reaming out your pipes.” 

What he said lands like a brick in the middle of you and then you both start laughing. Five is trying not to turn a bright shade of red, but not having much luck. 

“Oh my god,” you say in between gasping breaths. “That sounds like the beginning of a very bad porno.” 

Five gives another snort of laughter. “Well, shit, because that was going to be my movie pick for tonight.” 

You cross to a drawer of his kitchen where you know he keeps the corkscrew and start opening the wine. As you draw the cork out, you continue talking. 

“Damn, you know, I might as well watch some porn. It would be the closest I have been to a dick in months.” 

Five is reaching into the cabinet for the wine glasses, so luckily you can’t see him falter and swallow hard. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you say as you take a glass and pour the red wine halfway. You hand that one to Five and pour one for yourself. “Major dry spell going on.” 

Five nods and takes a healthy sip of the wine. “Huh.” 

You look at him oddly, since he’s not firing back any zingers. You tilt your head and take a drink. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Ok…” You start laughing. “Why? You want to help me out in that department, too?” 

Five can’t help it. He looks away for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough for you to notice. “How about we wait until we’re both completely desperate before we make that move, yeah?” 

You smile and nod slowly, holding up your glass in a toasting gesture. “I’ll drink to that.” 

“Cheers,” Five says as he clinks his glass with yours. He hopes the sound covers the quiet hitch in his breath. 

After the dinner of room temperature chicken and wilty salad, you settle in Five’s living room on the couch. The bottle of wine was finished an hour ago and you both have moved on to your respective preferred liquors. You sit on one end of the couch with your tumbler of vodka and soda and Five sips his whiskey from the other end. You haven’t even started up a movie yet. You’re having too much fun laughing and talking with one another. 

“Oh my god!” you exclaim drunkenly and Five frowns at the droplets of vodka that go splashing out of your glass and onto his couch cushion. “I forgot to tell you! Remember how I had that one lady come over to organize my closets?” 

Five nods. “Complete waste of money, but go on.” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I didn’t end up hiring her. But I had her come over twice to give me estimates and after each time, guess what?” 

Five blinks slowly at you. “I couldn’t possibly guess.” 

“She stole some of my shit out of my bedroom!” 

Five chokes on his drink and he pounds his chest to get some air back in his lungs while he coughs and sputters. His eyes are watering as he looks back at you. “What?” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nods. “Yeah, yeah… I’m good,” he wheezes. 

You wait a minute until he calms down again. “So, anyway, yeah, I think she stole from me! Nothing major, just little things. Like a cheap bracelet I had on my dresser and a random pen. That’s super weird, though, right?” 

“Why do you think it was her?” 

You shrug and take another drink. “No one ever comes over except you, so…” 

Five is silent as he waits for the other shoe to drop. But instead, you get up and pour another drink for yourself. You grab Five’s whiskey bottle and bring it to the couch to fill his up, too. 

As you are sitting back down again, you see something stuffed in between the couch cushions. You tug it out and hold it up. It’s the scrunchie you misplaced a few weeks ago. 

“Hey!” you exclaim with a smile. “I’ve been looking for this!” 

Five is extremely thirsty all of a sudden and he gulps down half his glass in one swallow; the sting of the whiskey like fire down his throat. 

“Must have left it here,” he says helpfully. 

You nod and stick it in your pocket. “I usually only use that one when I put my hair up before bed, but I must have worn it over here once.” You laugh and smack Five’s knee playfully. “Unless you’ve been using it!” 

Five laughs nervously, but the large quantity of booze he’s been drinking all night is slowing his reflexes. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Yeah, green’s not your color,” you say with a giggle. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. Then you suddenly perk up again, excited. 

“I’m hungry again! What do you have for snacks?” 

Five shrugs but leans forward so that he’s resting his elbows on his knees; his glass still grasped loosely in his hand. “I have no idea. You probably know better than me. You’re like a little rat when you come over here, hoarding all my food.” 

“I’m not a rat!” you say as you stumble off the couch and head to his kitchen. 

The cupboards start banging open and closed as you search for whatever you might be craving. 

“Five, why the hell do you have a random can of tomato sauce next to your cereal?” you yell. You start laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. 

Five smiles. “I don’t know!” he calls back. “Why do you keep a jar of olives on your dresser?” 

The house falls silent and it takes Five a minute to understand why. Then he remembers what he just said out loud. 

Fuck, he thinks. 

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just waits. 

You come into the living room, a bowl of chips in your hand. You sit heavily on the couch again and look at Five. 

“How did you know about the olives?” you ask slowly. 

Five’s open mouth and stammering of words is a dead give away that he’s about to lie. Fortunately, you are too tipsy to notice. 

“You told me,” he says with as much confidence as he can muster. “A couple weeks ago. Remember?” 

You take that in, eyeing him carefully while popping a chip in your mouth and crunching loudly. “Huh. Did I?” 

“Yeah.” 

You seem to buy the lie and you ease back into the couch again, getting comfortable while you sip your drink. Your train of thought jumps tracks a little and suddenly you are smiling over at Five while your head rests on the back of the cushion. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” you say with a big grin. 

Five lets out an embarrassed laugh. “You’re drunk.” 

“No no no no,” you say and you scoot closer to him. “I mean it.” Your eyes clear as you look into his and suddenly you’re not so foggy anymore. “You are my best friend, Five. I mean it. I feel safe with you.” 

Five’s thick swallow is audible and his skin feels like it’s on fire. “I’m glad,” he says, in the lamest answer ever. 

Your eyebrows draw together and he thinks maybe he hurt your feelings. He’s no good at this kind of thing. This back and forth giving of compliments and expressions of love, platonic or otherwise. It makes his chest feel tight and his stomach clench. But maybe he can try. 

“I guess you’re my best friend, too.” The words come out haltingly, like he’s never strung that sentence together before and his mouth doesn’t know how to form letters. 

You smile and lean forward and for a split second Five thinks you might try to kiss him. “I love you,” you say dreamily. Then, after seeing Five’s shocked face, you giggle and pat him on the cheek. “As a friend, dork.” 

“Ok, honey,” he snarks back, trying to disguise how flustered he is right now. 

“Don’t call me honey,” you respond with a frown that quickly disappears behind your glass as you take another sip. 

When you finish your drinks, you say your goodbyes and Five walks you to the door. He stands in the doorway to make sure you get across the street safely. You give him a short wave and a smile as you enter your house and shut the door. 

Five locks his own door and staggers up the steps to his room. On the way, he strips off his shirt and unbuckles his belt. He’s tired and loopy and angry at himself for almost giving his new little pastime away. He also feels like a giant pervert for doing it in the first place. 

Entering his bedroom, he trips a little and stubs his toe, making him swear under his breath. He searches around for the light switch on the wall and clicks it on. He sits on his bed, rubbing his foot. Then he remembers that you will be getting ready for bed in your own room. 

He can’t help it. He needs to see. 

It takes a while. Perhaps you stopped in the kitchen for some water or a snack. But, eventually, just like always, he watches as your light flicks on in your bedroom and he can see clearly inside. You are wearing that ugly, pink robe with the flamingos on it that he makes fun of you for. He expects you to come to your window to shut the curtains. You do come to the window, slowly, but you don’t touch the curtains. Instead, you turn towards Five, looking out of the window in his direction. 

Five blinks in confusion. You can’t possibly be looking at him. You must be looking at your reflection or maybe it’s just a coincidence that you turned that way. As Five is gawking and trying to figure out what is going on, he realizes that he left his light on in the room. 

The lamp is blaring bright white light all around him, illuminating him for all to see like the 4th of fucking July. And he’s standing there, gripping the side of the window, with his shirt off and his pants undone. 

Five closes his eyes and moans sadly. “Shit.” 

He’s caught. This is it. In a minute, you are going to come storming across the street, banging on his door to scream directly in his face. You’ll call him sick and disgusting. You’ll say you will never be his friend again. You’ll probably move out in the middle of the night. 

He feels a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

But then… then, you start to undo the fabric belt of your robe. You let it fall off your shoulders, slipping down your arms, and onto the floor. The sight underneath has Five letting out a loud, embarrassing groan that sounds like he just got socked in the stomach. 

You could not possibly have been wearing that underneath your clothes when you were over for dinner. There’s just no way. Five saw you. You had been wearing your usual cut off shorts and t-shirt. This… outfit… that you were wearing now? He would have fucking remembered that, even if he’d caught the smallest sliver of a glimpse under your regular clothes. 

It was a nightgown. Or a negligee. Or some sort of lingerie. Five isn’t really sure on the specifics. But he definitely doesn’t give a good flying fuck what it is called, because all he knows is that it looks like it was made specifically for your body. 

It is black and lace and sheer and tight. Molded to your curves and painted onto your skin. The bodice lifts your breasts up high, with thin spaghetti straps holding it over your shoulders. The body of it comes down just to the level of your upper thigh. Five can’t be certain, but from where he stands, it appears that you don’t have on anything else underneath. 

“Fuck,” Five hisses through gritted teeth. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

Why are you wearing that? Five has a very sudden and very horrible thought that maybe you had called someone else to come over. Another man that you were going to fuck, right there in front of Five’s face as he watches. That is honestly the most logical explanation that he can come up with, even if you had made no mention of another man earlier in the evening. But why would you have spent the majority of the night with Five if you were just going to end it with someone else? 

Still, Five can’t make any sense of it. Instead, he just continues watching. You fluff out your hair and smooth your hands down your sides. Then it looks like you might be starting to undress out of that outfit, too. Which also doesn’t make any sense, because why would you have put it on in the first place just to take it right off again? 

Your fingers trace the lace around the low neckline, lingering over your cleavage, and then play with the tiny straps that are holding it up. Five takes all of it in; studying each miniscule movement and shimmy of your body. If there is going to be some sort of weird test on all of this later on, he wants to make sure he aces it. 

You turn around so that your beautiful ass is framed in the window like a work of art. You start to pull one of the thin straps down and then stop. You look over your shoulder in his direction. Your eyes lock with his. 

And you smile. 

Five freezes. He is gaping with his mouth open and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You pull the strap back up onto your shoulder, as if you changed your mind. Then… you beckon to him with a sexy crook of your finger in his direction. Your eyebrow raises. Like a dare. Like a Siren that is going to surely lure him to his death amongst the rocks. 

Five sucks in a loud breath and swallows, making an audible gulping noise. His hands start to shake at his sides. You are watching him, or at least he thinks you are. There is another beat of uncertainty and then you shake your head, just slightly, with another small smile. 

Five doesn’t know what the hell is going on, and maybe he’s making a terrible mistake. 

Well, fuck it. It’s been a good run. 

He holds his breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and blinks directly into your room. 

He is breathing hard and fast, his hands flexing and unflexing while his pants remain halfway open and his belt hangs down, unbuckled. He stares at you, partly terrified and partly turned on. 

You don’t scream or throw anything at him, so that’s a good sign. Rather, you stare right back at him with that same knowing smile. 

Your lingerie looks even better up close and Five licks his lips and swallows as his eyes wander up and down your body. 

“I—” Five starts to stammer. 

You take a step towards him. “It’s ok, Five. I know you’ve been watching me and blinking in here at night.” 

That panic starts crawling up his throat again. He thinks about blinking away. “I don’t… I mean…” 

You smile and get close enough to touch him. Close enough that your tits brush against his bare chest. He is at a loss for words but his hands come to rest on your waist, his fingers lightly feeling the lace of your lingerie. 

You look up at his bewildered face. “It’s ok.”

“How did you know?” he asks quietly. His hands skim your hips and he stares at your lips. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, mister,” you say playfully. “That sexy power of yours lights up the room, you know.” 

Five looks horrified and guilty and lustful all at once. He doesn’t deny anything. 

“Plus,” you continue. “I found all my missing stuff at your house the other day when I came over to borrow some eggs and you weren’t home. Who’s the rat now?” 

“I thought the closet lady took them,” he says with a tiny smirk. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” you tell him as you lean in even closer, your mouth hovering just over his. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

“I’m so sorry,” Five says sincerely.  

“It’s ok, Five. But why did you do it?” 

Five hesitates. “I just wanted a piece of you with me all the time. And once I had that, I wanted more.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask? I would have given it to you.” 

Five laughs. “Your scrunchie?” 

“No. All of me.” 

Five’s hand slides up your back, his fingers feeling each vertebra on your spine before settling at the nape of your neck. 

“You don’t hate me?” he asks softly. 

You shake your head. “I told you, Five. I love you.” 

He smiles. “I love you, too.” And even though it’s the first time he’s ever said that out loud before, it feels right. 

You emit a tiny squeaking noise as his mouth crashes into yours. His kisses are brutal and biting as he holds you flush to his chest, like if he lets go you’ll realize he’s the voyeuristic pervert he really is. But you kiss him back, urgently and deeply, your fingers pressing into the hard muscles of his back. 

“There’s something I need to know,” Five manages to get out between gasps of air. 

You tip your head back and he attacks your throat, his mouth eagerly sucking down the side and onto your collarbone. You whine a little in response. 

“What is it?” 

Five stops his onslaught of kisses and cups your face in both of his hands. “How the fuck did a jar of olives get in here?” he asks with the most smart-ass, yet loving grin you have ever seen. 

You laugh breathily. “Honestly? I have no idea. I wondered that myself.” 

Five snorts out a laugh, but then his smile fades and he leans in. His hands are in your hair as he kisses you again. This time, he’s not as all-consuming. His mouth is soft and his kisses are slow. You bring one hand up to the side of his face and trace the outline of his jaw with your finger tip. Then you press your palm onto his cheek. 

He draws back and looks you over, his gaze traveling down your body and back up again. He plays with the straps over your shoulders, and he lets them fall off so they hang down loosely. Then he runs his hands down your sides and around to your ass where they come to rest.

“Honey, you are killing me with this thing.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t call me honey.” 

You are squealing and then laughing as Five whooshes you through one of his portals. You find yourself landing on Five’s bed with a short bounce. He is standing over you, a cocky smirk on his face, while unzipping the fly of his pants the rest of the way. 

“Did you just kidnap me?” you ask breathlessly with a little giggle. 

“Not kidnapped. You’re free to go at any time.” Five shoves his pants down and kicks them off. He is left in his black boxer briefs. 

“My bed works perfectly well, too, you know.” 

Five climbs over you, forcing you onto your back. He presses his forehead to yours and gives you a kiss. “I like the homefield advantage.” 

You are back staring into one another’s eyes and soon the confident grin Five was wearing begins to fade. He brushes your hair back from your face. His hard cock is pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your hips automatically tilt upwards. Five grips your left hip with his right hand, squeezing it tightly. He slides his hand down your thigh and back up again, coming to rest underneath the hem of your lingerie. The action pushes the short garment up, around your hips. You aren’t wearing anything underneath, so now you are fully exposed to him. 

Your chest starts to rapidly rise and fall with anticipation. Five lowers himself to kiss you again, moving from your lips, under your jaw, and down your neck. You sigh happily, stretching out long while giving him access to everything he wants to take. 

“Remember when we said we’d only do this if we were desperate?” he asks with his lips pressed to your throat. 

“Mmm-hmmm,” you breathe out. 

Five gives you a small bite on the side of your neck. “You have no idea how desperate for you I am.” 

“Five,” you gasp as he moves to the other side and gives you a sharper bite onto your shoulder. 

The throbbing between your legs that you have felt since you first touched his bare skin with your hands is getting worse by the second. You are certain there is already a wet spot forming on Five’s comforter underneath you. His mouth moves to your chest and then between your tits, where he draws a line up the center with his tongue. Then he massages your left breast with one hand while scraping his teeth over the thin lace that covers the other. 

Your hips buck up in response and you moan his name again. He shoves the lingerie up even further, over your waist and abdomen. He kisses your stomach; long, sucking kisses that have you arching into them. While he continues to explore your body, you quickly pull the lingerie over your head and toss it somewhere to the side. Five lifts his head and smiles appreciatively. 

“By the way… did you wear that specifically to lure me over?” he asks with a smirk. 

You nod. “Obviously.” 

Five hums thoughtfully while looking your body over and trailing a finger down your side and over the crease where your hip meets your thigh. You shiver under his touch. 

“It definitely got my attention.” Five lowers himself so that his face is almost directly between your legs. He kisses one thigh and then the other. “But I really like it on my floor right now.” 

He gives you another soft kiss, right below your navel. You are breathing hard and fast, and when his tongue finally makes contact with your wet heat, your fists clench the bed covers and you cry out. 

“Fiii-ve!” you wail, your hips pushing up into his face. 

Five smiles against you but he doesn’t let up. He savors you, one torturous lap at a time, while you wriggle helplessly under him. You let out broken cries that are punctuated by nonsensical words and curses. Your back is arching off the bed and you are desperately trying not to come. When he grabs hold of your ass, holding you in place while he covers your clit with his mouth, sucking and licking like it’s the most delicious food he’s ever tasted, you quickly lose the battle. 

You come against his mouth, your juices flowing out of you as you let out a string of shuddering cries. He doesn’t stop until you are fully spent and your body has stopped spasming. When Five lifts his head, he looks absolutely debauched. Lips red and puffy, hair askew, chin shining with the steady stream of wetness that he has been drinking up. He is panting and shaking, the outline of his hard cock straining against his boxers. 

Just the sight of him that worked up over eating you out is driving you insane. He wipes at his mouth with his hand. When you gaze back at him with more lust in your eyes, he quickly sheds his underwear. 

You take a moment to appreciate his naked body. His smooth, fair skin; his lean and toned muscles; his generously sized dick that is just waiting to fuck you. He sees you looking and smiles. Then he is back on top of you with a low groan. 

Five kisses you, biting at your lips with a new ferocity. 

“Fuck,” he growls, and it’s laced with need and urgency. “I can’t…” he breaks his sentence with another unrestrained groan. “I can’t wait anymore,” he tells you like it’s a warning. 

You open your legs for him, your folds slick and still throbbing from his mouth. He sinks himself inside you, slowly and purposefully, each inch filling you up along the way. When he bottoms out, you both moan out loud and Five’s eyes fall shut for a moment. He doesn’t move. When he opens his eyes, they are glassy and a deep crease forms between them. He studies your face, his breath coming in harsh, shaking rasps. 

He whispers your name in a way he has never said it before.

When he starts to move inside you, he finds your hand and laces his fingers with yours. He presses them into the mattress, next to your head. His kisses have changed again. Now they are passionate and deep; matching the rhythm of his cock as it thrusts slowly in and out of you. 

“Oh god,” you moan. “Five.” 

“Does that feel good to you, sweetheart?” he asks you sincerely, a line of worry forming between his eyebrows. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “It feels so good.” 

Five buries his face in the crook of your neck while he starts to pump faster and a little harder into you. His grip on your hand tightens and you squeeze his fingers in return. 

His cock is thrusting deep inside you, the thick shaft stretching your walls with each pass. You angle your hips so that every time he bangs into you, the sharp edge of his pubic bone hits just the right spot.

The more you moan his name and rake your free hand down his back, the harder he pounds into you. His kisses remain slow and worshipful, though. You are gasping in lungfulls of air as you cling to his body; your legs wrapped around him. Your head is filled with a beautiful, swirling fog of love and adrenaline. 

Five has never felt like this before. Like he’s both simultaneously going to explode and collapse in on himself. Your body feels like heaven underneath him and your warm, tight pussy feels like it was made just for him. He tries not to give in to his primal need to fuck you hard and fast, but it’s nearly impossible. He is being driven by desire and love and lust and all of those things that makes him want to kiss you and fuck you for all eternity. 

“Please,” he says into your shoulder. “Oh fuck, baby… please.” 

What is he even talking about? He has no idea, but the further into this haze of sweat and endorphins he gets, the harder it is for him to hold back. He wants you shaking and trembling beneath him. He needs to hear his own name vibrating against his skin while you moan into him. 

“Please, honey,” he begs hoarsely, his breath rushing over your skin. “Please, come for me. I need to feel it.” 

“Five,” you breathe out softly. “Keep fucking me… don’t ever stop… oh… FIVE!” 

As soon as your body begins to stiffen against his, Five lets go with a low, guttural moan. He curses and tightly clenches his jaw as he fills you up with his cum; his hips twitching and grinding against you. When he starts to relax, his body still covering yours, you lock eyes with one another and you both smile. He is still holding your hand and neither of you make a move to let go.  

After a minute, Five moves off of you and to the side. You are still trying to catch your breath.

“Let me go get something to clean you up with,” he says. 

When he goes to get off the bed, you put your hand out, catching his wrist. “No, stay.” 

He chuckles. “I’m only going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

You shake your head with a lazy smile. “No, don’t go. Stay right here.” 

Five doesn’t need much convincing and he settles in next to you, pulling you close to him while you lay your head on his chest. You start to relax in his arms. Five nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. You both let out a contended sigh. 

“I’d say that was long overdue,” Five says, breaking the silence.

You laugh. “Yeah, what the hell were we waiting for? That was way better than watching some lame movie.”

“Once again, my movies aren’t lame,” Five says with a grin that he is having a hard time keeping off his face.

You are quiet again for a couple of minutes and then you look up at him. “I have a confession to make,” you say, tracing his lips with your finger tips. 

“I feel like I’m the one with all the confessions to make, but ok,” Five answers. 

“So, all those dates I went on?” you begin, and you can feel his body tense. 

“Not really what I want to be talking about at this very moment,” he grumbles. 

You give him a small smile and kiss his lips, making him relax again. “They never worked out because of you.” 

Five’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” 

“The reason I ended up chasing them away,” you tell him, “Was because all I did was talk about you.” You kiss him again, this time slipping your tongue inside, and he moans into your mouth. You pull back again. “Apparently men don’t like it when you make it obvious you’re in love with someone else.” 

A slow grin passes over Five’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?” 

“Because what if you rejected me? I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t think of one god damned scenario on the face of this earth in which I would reject you.” He thinks for a moment and he strokes your hair. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. Watching you. Stealing. That’s some real psycho behavior; I know that. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s a little psycho,” you say with a laugh. “But, for some reason… I don’t know… I like that I make you disturbed.”

Now Five laughs. “Well, then you are in luck, honey, because you have one very disturbed man on your hands now.”

“Don’t call me hon–”

You are cut off when Five drags you on top of him and kisses you, hard, with a hand on the back of your neck. Your muffled protests and feeble attempt to get away is ignored and soon you are turning to liquid under his touch again. 

When he finally lets you up for air, he is grinning happily. “You love it when I call you honey, and you fucking know it.”

You frown and start to argue, but with the way he is looking at you, like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, you can’t keep it up. You sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Knew it,” he chuckles. “Hey, just out of curiosity, how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

“Since you dropped a couch on my foot,” you answer with a smile. “How long have you been secretly in love with me?”

“Since I dropped a couch on your foot,” he tells you.

You nod, like you figured as much, and go back to kissing him. As Five loses himself to your mouth and your body and just you, he wonders why none of this is awkward. It should be, he reasons, but it isn’t. And thank god for that, because he’s not sure what he would do if he lost you as a friend or anything more.

His mind switches gears as you start to rock your hips into him. You look and feel so good on top of him and he can’t wait to see you in every position imaginable. Before he gets too far gone, though, he makes a mental note to remind you that no matter where this relationship is headed, he would still like a few private strip shows from across the street now and then. Just to keep things from getting too normal.

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