UMMM… I FUCKING SCREECHED?! THANK YOU FOR DOING THE LORD’S WORK AND BLESSING OUR EYES 😭❤️👏🏼 | @jacktdphotography on IG
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@gatterrwarrs
UMMM… I FUCKING SCREECHED?! THANK YOU FOR DOING THE LORD’S WORK AND BLESSING OUR EYES 😭❤️👏🏼 | @jacktdphotography on IG

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“MAYBE IT’S NOT MY WEEKEND, BUT IT’S GONNA BE MY YEAR” I scream at 12 am with tears streaming down my face and a bottle of champagne in my hand. it has not been my year yet. it’s not even a weekend today is Thursday
Blossom - Shane and Friends Secret Santa
Hi @gatterrwarrs and @shaneandfriendssecretsanta ! Here’s a little fic I wrote for you; I hope you enjoy it. :)
I actually haven’t written a story in months (I’ve been focused on scriptwriting and schoolwork), so apologies if the stylistic bits are a little rusty. Merry Christmas!
Andrew has gotten very good at focusing on the little things. His work requires him to capture the big picture every time he pulls out his camera, gathering as much detail as possible while still directing the viewer’s attention to the main attraction. If he doesn’t catch something in his viewfinder during the live filming, he’s sure to spot it during the editing process. And it’s during the editing process when the little details become Andrew’s reality.
His time behind the camera and laptop screen has given him tremendous insight into the group dynamic. He catches every loving glance Shane offers Ryland. He knows when Ryland’s getting annoyed, even when he doesn’t vocalize it. He’s watched Morgan grow from a tentative new presence in the group to one of its core personalities, and he alone knows the extent of the joy their time together gives her.
And then there’s Garrett.
Andrew doesn’t miss a beat with him; he has every head tilt, half grin, and inflection of laugh ingrained in his memory like a virus. He can predict Garrett’s motions with near impeccable accuracy, knowing just when to pan the camera toward his friend before he springs into action. Garrett is the one Andrew studies most intricately when the camera is off, and it’s Garrett whose affection starts a riot in Andrew’s blood whenever the group hangs out without the pressure of filming. He doesn’t try to explain what makes their relationship different. It’s easiest to believe there isn’t a difference at all.
Andrew knows that isn’t the case, though. It didn’t take long to understand that there was something intimate in the way Garrett eyes him, and the feeling that quiet intimacy gives Andrew forms as an unfamiliar blossom in his stomach. Shane jokes that Garrett has feelings beyond friendship for Andrew, and sometimes he wonders whether that’s actually the case. Sometimes he wonders whether the feeling is mutual.
But he can’t like Garrett. Not in that way.
They haven’t seen each other in a while. Andrew’s been too busy helping Shane film and edit his new series to visit any friends, and of course, the internet has noticed. The ongoing questioning of why the pair hasn’t been seen together recently develops a strain on Andrew that causes him more stress than his actual work. So when he finally takes a break from editing and asks Garrett to hang out, and when Garrett offers that he come to his new place and watch a movie on “the coolest projector in the world”, Andrew feels lighter than he has in weeks.
It’s almost dark by the time a frazzled Andrew gets to Garrett’s house, and when he enters, he’s touched to discover that his friend has cleaned up the place and arranged some food for the two to enjoy. “Garrett! I feel like shit,” he says. “But this looks really nice.”
“Well, you look great.” It’s a lie, obviously, because Andrew is unwashed and unshaved and sporting the sallowing complexion of a man surviving off of energy drinks and blue light alone, but Garrett means the compliment with everything in him. He looks nervous. “Shane’s really working you on this one, huh?”
“It’s insane,” Andrew groans as he settles on Garrett’s new couch. “Over one hundred hours of footage and we’ve barely scratched the surface. I’m pretty sure we’re going to die.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Red Bull, baby. That’s the only thing getting us through this. Red Bull and pure spite.”
Garrett laughs and Andrew is grateful for the sound. It’s comfortable and sharp and everything he needs to isolate himself from the pressure that’s surrounded him for weeks. And it’s that laugh and the dissolution of stress that follows it that leads Andrew to understand what he’s been feeling for so long.
He can’t manage anything more than “I’m really happy to see you. It’s a lot less fun filming without you around.”
The comment seems to loosen Garrett up, and Andrew feels his friend shift a little closer to him on the couch. “I’ve missed you, too. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”
Heat floods to Andrew’s cheeks. “Never!”
An unbalanced quiet settles between the two of them, and the now all-too-familiar blossom begins to unfurl in Andrew’s chest. He can see Garrett’s leg beginning to bounce-a sure sign that his friend has something on his mind. The silence grows, as does Andrew’s desire to break it and question Garrett’s feelings unabashedly, and just when he swallows his pride and prepares to change everything, Garrett grabs the remote and queues up Netflix.
“You ready?” he asks, dimming the lights.
“Absolutely.”
—–
They’re about three episodes into the worst TV show Andrew has ever seen when Garrett pulls out the booze, and it doesn’t take long for the pair to fall into an easy rhythm of passing the bottle back and forth. Neither bothers to use a glass.
The show is long and so bad that nearly every bit of dialogue has them in stitches, but Andrew struggles to concentrate on the screen in front of him. As the night draws on, he feels himself gravitating toward Garrett, basking in the warmth of the liquor and the body beside him. Their legs brush a few times and eventually connect, and Andrew feels the bloom in his core become alight with flame. He wonders what it means. He wonders just how much longer he can keep the flower suppressed.
It’s over far too soon. The projector shifts to static blue as the movie ends, and although the alcohol has slowed both boys down, Garrett is quick to jerk his leg away from Andrew’s as they begin to stir. The blossom is replaced by a hollow ache, and Andrew checks his phone, desperate to distract himself from the ugly feeling. It’s two in the morning.
“Jesus, it’s late. I can’t be doing this right now,” Andrew groans, running his hands through his unwashed hair as he tries to blink away the boozey haze that’s clouded his vision for the past hour. “I gotta get home so I can help Shane tomorrow morning.”
Garrett slides from the couch and onto the floor. “You can’t drive, dummy. It’s dark. You’re pretty drunk. I’m more drunk. And you’re drunk, too.”
“Yeah, you said that already.”
Garrett is silent. Then, through slightly slurred breath: “Huh. Why don’t you just sleep here?”
“You only have one bed.”
Garrett hesitates again, and for a moment it looks like he’s going to say something serious, but his tone changes before any words can escape. “Doesn’t matter! I’ll break in the new couch. Plus, I have to find the remote to turn this darn thing off.”
“You can’t sleep on the couch.” Andrew is firm.
“Can too.”
“Not comfortably.”
“Andrew Siwicki. Take the damn bed.”
Andrew sighs through a smile that he fails to stifle and shakes his head. He knows there’s no use in arguing. “Fine, Garrett. Feel free to kick me out if you wake up in the middle of the night with a broken back.”
“It’s already the middle of the night,” Garrett quips. “But anything for you. Let me get a blanket real quick.”
Andrew hovers by the doorway as Garrett grabs the rattiest blanket he’s ever seen off the corner of the bed. “Are you sure that’ll be warm enough?”
Garrett giggles, fuzzy from the liquor. “A hoe never gets cold.”
“Shut the hell up, dude.” Andrew snickers as Garrett offers a small salute and backs out of the bedroom. Something pulls in his chest as he watches his friend lower himself to the floor and begin groping under the couch for the projector remote. There’s a voice deep inside him that’s screaming for him to do something else, to call out to Garrett and make him stay with him, or do anything, really, but Andrew’s too exhausted to listen. “Goodnight.”
“‘Night, Andrew.”
—–
Garrett wakes with dry eyes and an even drier throat. It takes him a moment to realize he’s still on the floor, slumped awkwardly between the base of the couch and side table. The projector screen glows with hazy blue light; last night’s final mission had clearly been unsuccessful. After a few minutes of flexing the fresh ache from his joints, Garrett manages to stand.
There isn’t any food in the kitchen that could constitute breakfast for two, so Garrett directs his energy to cleaning out the coffee machine and starting a new pot. The whole thing is an already slow process made even slower by the stiffness in his bones, and the soft morning light and gentle gurgle of the coffee pot lull Garrett into a drowsy trance. The machine’s eventual beep is accompanied by Andrew’s quiet greeting.
“Morning, Gare.”
Andrew looks tired but much brighter than he did last night, and his crooked smile causes Garrett’s heart to melt and pool deep in his stomach. “Thanks again for the bed.”
“Of course!” Garrett neglects to mention his night on the floor. “And good morning. Do you want coffee?”
“Ah, man, that’d be great. I have to head out soon, though. Shane’s texted me three times already. I can’t believe he’s already up.” Andrew slips behind Garrett and takes two mugs from the shelf. Their legs touch as Andrew completes the movement; suddenly they’re very close, and Garrett feels a blossom of his own begin to spread from head to toe.
When Garrett shifts to face Andrew, Andrew doesn’t pull back. The space remaining between them is inappropriate, too close for normalcy between friends and just far enough apart to make things awkward if one of them doesn’t move out of the way in time. If Garrett exhales, Andrew will feel the breath on his cheeks. The pair stand silently for a moment too long, and a cold dread washes over Andrew- was he wrong about this?
Garrett swallows hard. “What are you doing, Andrew?”
“I don’t really know,” he says, and it’s the truth, and it’s clear it hurts Garrett.
“If you don’t know what you’re doing, we shouldn’t be doing anything at all.”
Andrew presses closer. “Isn’t a huge part of all of this the not knowing?”
“I don’t know what this you’re talking about.” Garrett’s eyes are wide and searching, but he hasn’t moved in the slightest. He’s the most still Andrew has ever seen him.
“Come on,” Andrew pleads. He can feel the flower creep into his throat. “I think things have been different for you for a while now, Garrett, and they’ve been different for me, too, but I’m-I’m not like you. You know? I never thought, never even considered I could ever do this. But last night, something just clicked for me. I don’t know what I’m doing but I know it’s what I want.”
“You’re not making sense.” Garrett’s response is barely more than a whisper.
Andrew squeezes his eyes shut. There are petals in his mouth now, and if he speaks again he knows they’ll fly out, showering Garrett’s kitchen and Garrett himself in hues of crimson and white.
“Andrew?”
He can’t take it anymore, and suddenly he’s kissing Garrett, who is all too stiff in his arms. The affection isn’t returned, and Andrew withdraws in horror, nearly knocking a mug off the counter as he leans on it for support.
“Garrett, I’m so, so sorr-”
“No, no. It’s okay. Um,” Garrett purses his lips, trying very hard to avoid staring at the scarlet decorating Andrew’s cheeks and ears. “You’re not still drunk, right?”
Andrew forces out an apologetic laugh. “Sober as I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” Garrett says, and then it’s his turn to initiate the motion. His body collides with Andrew’s once again, and this kiss is slow and sweet and everything either could hope for. Fucking bouquets are bursting from Andrew’s lungs when he eventually pulls back to gaze at Garrett.
Garrett hums. “Do you think you can be late to Shane’s?”
“I think it’s only fair I repay you for giving me the room last night, right?” Andrew smiles softly, and Garrett’s heart soars.
Garrett grabs Andrew’s hand. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
Pieces (for Shane and Friends Secret Santa 2018)
Merry Christmas!! This is posted a little late this morning because MAN have I been busy the past week but, nevertheless, here it is!
@love-any-ideas I hope you enjoy your gift, and @shaneandfriendssecretsanta thank you for organizing this event!
5
When Garrett first sees him, he’s taken aback.
Andrew is all smiles, bright eyes, brighter hair, golden shining through the cracks of his complexion and light beating from his heart. His voice is a song, words the verses and laughter the chorus, the bridge being the lilting way he says Garrett’s name.
Its clearly love; a concept that feels, to Garrett, like trying to read a novel with his eyes closed tight. He doesn’t know where to go, what to say, how to begin. He’s unsure of the best path to take without royally screwing things up.
It makes him jumpy, nervous, tongue-tied, frightened, flighty, sick. A myriad of things as unwelcome as they are unpleasant; but with that comes the butterflies. The happy-nervous laughs. The hot sparks of Andrew’s hand on his shoulder, the shake of his spine when he leans in close enough to blow breath across Garrett's bare cheek.
Its new. Exciting. And while Garrett isn’t so sure Andrew feels the same light that he does, something good must be happening because he leaves with Andrews number in his phone and wakes to a triage of messages waiting for him.
4
Andrew's hand is steady on the camera, brows low, eyes narrow and focused but happy. The corners of his lips are tilted so slightly into a smile.
The de Vinci; Andrew. The Mona; Garrett.
Sure, maybe Mona Lisa wouldn’t be painted in such a way, head thrown back in laugher, chest heaving, arms drawn up and curling around a couch pillow with glasses akimbo. But it works for now, because Andrew admires the goofiness, the energy, the genuine smiles and winks and playful musing with the same care and finesse as de Vinci admired the soft mystery of his subject.
He supposes, maybe, that its love. He's felt it before. The way his heart shakes his chest as he centers Garrett in the frame, hands unsteady. The weightlessness of his limbs when their eyes meet, briefly, from behind the lens.
If its love, he knows it- he senses the familiarity. But, at the same time, its a love so raw, so open and vulnerable and strong that Andrew isn't sure weather to pull away or embrace it- both are scary and intimidating in their own right.
Not for the first time, Andrew feels lost in a world he knows well.
3
Garrett wakes up after a party to something he isn't exactly expecting.
Andrew is next to him in bed, arms outstretched above the covers, hair rumpled and chest rising with slow precision. His face is relaxed, lips parted gently (rose-pink, inviting, warm) and eyes flicking gently behind their lids in REM. There’s no worry, or stress, or generalized nervousness present here. A welcome change- Andrew had looked in need of a good sleep.
Its a good enough sight, it seems, that Garrett (shockingly still working off the remnants of the alcohol in his system- though, it is only four in the morning) is somewhat entranced.
He thinks of all that could be. Of how, in another life, he could lean across the pillows and kiss Andrew gently and slowly and lovingly, how he could caress the curve of his cheek, run a hand through his tousled hair, place his head carefully in the crook of Andrew's neck and doze peacefully, in love, happy, together.
It’s almost a painful thought, but not quite- Garrett is used to pining, by now.
Still, he's not sure what comes over him when he gently lifts his hand from the duvet, and with slow, quiet movements (though his fingers still shake), places it atop Andrew's chest.
He's comfortably warm through the thin material of his T-shirt, breaths rising and falling in calm rhythm, one after another, like toy soldiers. His heart beats in sync, slowed in sleep but continuing its steady song nonetheless.
Garrett closes his eyes, feels the world beneath his palm play out it's night. The world belonging to the person he treasures the most, to Andrew, to the man he is irrefutably in love with.
He's not sure when he falls asleep, exactly, but its okay- he wakes up hours later to Andrew's smile and the bright morning-dew of his laughter.
2
They're saying goodbye for the night.
Andrew has plenty of editing left on his plate, intimidating and difficult and unfinished. Garrett had come over to Shane and Ryland’s place to boost morale (and help a little, too, to try and take the edge off) but had succumb to the tired vibe and was on his way home.
So, they're standing at the front door, facing down the curved driveway and Garrett's crumby car, both blinking tiredly at the other as they force out their goodbyes.
Andrew isn't sure what comes over him. Maybe its the sleep exhaustion. Maybe its appreciation. Maybe delusion. Possibly, and most likely, its all three.
He steps forward, closing the little gap between them, taken aback slightly by the cool breeze as he crosses the threshold of the doorway.
And he pulls his arms around Garrett in a hug.
He kind of his to lean upwards to get a good angle on him but its comfortable, the warmth between their chests, the softness of his flannel against the stubble of Andrew’s cheek.
And of course Garrett reciprocates, long arms reaching across Andrew’s back, but they feel hesitant- as though they're just ghosting his hoodie, scared to touch farther lest they be burnt.
He doesn't like that. The uncertainty.
He pulls away, and they say goodnight, and their smiles still meet their eyes even though neither is sure they mean it.
1
When it happens, they're at Garrett's place.
The intention wasn't for Andrew to stay the night, exactly, but at some indeterminate point Garrett had mixed them a couple drinks and driving, now, hours later, was very likely a stupid thing to do.
Instead of leaving, Andrew is still sat on the couch with his buzz swimming pleasantly between his shoulders, legs crossed, ice cubes clinking in a glass and a crooked smile on his face.
All in all, a good night, so far. Judging by the matching grin shared by Garrett, he feels the same.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd spent the night crashed on Garrett's couch, and its unlikely to be the last, either.
But unlike all those other times before, there’s a shift in the air, just above noticeable, and if Andrew was a little denser he would’ve mistaken it for a gas leak- but this is something intangible. A feeling, bubbling to the surface of their skin, words unsaid, ideas and thoughts left unexplored and lock-boxed away.
Their legs are pressed together on the couch cushions as a wholly ignored movie titters away on the projector. It feels white-hot, like if neither pulls away then surely they'll go up in smoke.
“Garrett,” Andrew starts, realizing he has no idea how to finish.
Neither does Garrett, if the look on his face is anything to go by. It's not sadness, as far as Andrew can tell, but it's not exactly happy, either- it's as though he wants to be happy, but he's scared of what that entails. Andrew figures that’s how he feels, too.
What they have is like a puzzle. All the pieces are there, they all have a place, they all fit together perfectly, and when they do, things are fantastic. It just means the puzzle has to be solved. The pieces have to be put into place.
And that’s hard.
But they're on the home stretch here; Andrew can feel it. Its the tension in the air.
“Garrett,” He says, with more gusto, with an idea as to where he's going with this. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“Its kind of scary.”
Garrett laughs, softly, nervously.
“Okay?”
There’s a pause that feels as heavy and immovable as a cinderblock on his chest. But he presses through.
And forwards.
Slowly, with all the care in the world, Andrew tests the waters. He shifts closer to Garrett, legs firmly together, now, and inches towards his face, towards the slight part of his mouth, towards his lips.
Garrett doesn't move- he doesn't dare breathe, even, his heart pounding in time with Andrew's, the thickness to the air threatening to choke them out.
And they meet.
Their lips are soft against each others, parting slightly, dancing across skin, sending shakes down their backs and fire through their chests.
The tension falls. The air is clean. The two sides of the puzzle fall gently into place.
They relax into the rhythm of things, Garrett’s hand on Andrew's chest, Andrew's fingers dancing across Garrett's waist, their breathing in sync and their lips moving to the slow, loving, slightly-drunk beat being passed between them.
Eventually, they pull away, faces wash with colour and arms shaking.
Their eyes meet. They’re smiling.
Its not so scary, really, not like Andrew had always thought it'd be- because he'd always been in love. There's no realization here, no earth-shattering, soul-splitting moment of discovery.
The pieces, ones that had always existed, are just fitting together, as they'd always intended to.
Love, still, but now on the same page.
Love, still, but now together.
Their smiles meet their eyes, and they mean it.
me, desperate, begging on my knees: please just have one coherent fucking thought
my absolute shit brain:

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Goodbye
👀
Imagine Garrett’s next video is reading fan fiction. Or acting out fanfiction like Colleen’s video. Omg thank god I don’t write fanfics lmao
Omg imagine if they did a video like Colleen! Garrett and Andrew act out Gandrew fanfiction together and then they reveal their relationship at the end of the video.
i would pay GOOD MONEY to see them re-enact my fic
If Garrett knows about Gandrew then that means he probably snoops around Tumblr which also means he’s probably seen my blog/posts and uuuhhhh I literally just had chest pains
you know it’s kind of embarrassing lmao
expose me garrett i DARE you
my writing: please, please i’m begging just use normal punctuation for once in your terrible writing
me: haha time for another
comma

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Garrett Watts wearing sweaters and neatly patterned scarves, snowflakes in his hair and eyelashes, glasses fogging up because of the cold, fingers red against warm thermoses. Home made hot chocolate and big marshmallows, snowmen with names and pets. Christmas lights and decorations. Homemade advent calendars with personalized surprises, new and old traditions woven together.
Andrew Siwicki with big jackets and many layers, sweatpants tucked into tan boots. Cheeks and nose red, wet hair from this mornings shower turning icy due to the cold, warm tea rising from painted mugs, crackling fire as snow falls outside. Cinnamon scented candles galore and cookies in the oven. Cut down Christmas tree and pine needles a-plenty, painted ornaments, huge blankets, warm and cozy.
lazy afternoon, sunlight stream through the window, moment before the kiss.
( it’s a trope/image i love and couldn’t get out of my head. also thank you so much for kind reactions to my last doodle-thing-stuff ! i think i want to post more art along with writing :D )
“Hey, our unicorn says he needs cuddles.”
“You mean, you need cuddles.”
“Well, yes, that too.”
hello hi this was too short an idea to turn into writing, so here we are. i can’t believe i’ve actually become so obsessed i took up drawing again. (also i hope this is recognizable as garrett and andrew it’s an actual worry for me)
Not fair they filmed the whole day and cut it all out wtf
this is the cutest video of andrew ever that’s the tea

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Thank you to whoever thought to give Andrew tickets to Drake. Look how happy he is
every second of garrett playing the try not to move challenge is gold