#bed sharing

You and the main cast of SNL landed about an hour ago. You guys were going to be doing improv shows in a couple spots around town with David Spade, possibly go out for drinks after too. You happened to be apart of the 4 person group that had to stay at his place. 

To say the least, David was very kind-hearted. He showed the group around, and he was VERY patient. Especially with Sarah and Veronica- considering how rowdy they are. 

There was a guest bed room, 

and then there was the basement.

Veronica and sarah were quick to claim the guest bedroom, which meant you and ben ended up in the basement. 

The basement was just what you expected. It was nice- but there were still little pieces of exposed brick, and a giant “mini”-bar in the corner. 

Then there was the bed.

It was decent sized- maybe even large, but it couldn’t possibly be large enough for ben and you together.

You gave your thanks to David, and then use your extra time to unpack a little.

You heard someone approach behind you.

“I guess we’re sharing…” it was ben, he was running his hand through his hair, he only did it when he was nervous.

“I guess so.” you said with a sigh. Your best attempt at ‘casual’. 

To be perfectly honest, you had been battling your ‘little’ crush on Ben. You both had a good professional relationship, and friendship. There was no need to sacrifice it now. 

You were in the bathroom changing. 

As well as considering escaping somehow. Statistically, the little basement window would be too small, but if you could only suck in a little-

You gave up on the thought.

you stared back at yourself in the mirror, you were wearing an old ratty t-shirt and some sleep shorts. splashing some cold water onto your face,           you worked up the courage to leave the restroom. 

You were welcomed with the sight of Ben again.   He was tucked under the comforter, scrolling through his phone. 

The brightness was definitely up too high. 

You slowly approached the bed, taking a deep breath before settling in. 

“Were you taking a dump or something?” Ben questioned, though his eyes were still on the phone.

“None of your business, dweeb.” you replied, flicking his phone from his hand, before turning off the lamp next to you.

“Dude!” he laughed breathily, picking up his phone.

You turned to your side, facing away from him. You tried to sleep but it’s really difficult. Scenario after scenario raced through your mind. Even though the bed is a queen- maybe even a king, it’s really hard to keep your mind off of the proximity between the two of you.

You sucked in some air to calm down, but all you can think of is the scent of his cologne, and how it smelt so nice.

“Fuck.” you whispered, flipping onto your back with your arms at your side.

…

You woke up at some point in the middle of the night because Ben's elbow was in your ribs. He was mumbling something about a sketch that doesn't exist yet. You shoved him, he jolted awake, disoriented.

"What?! What happened?" he said, flailing around.

"you're taking up the entire bed." you tell him, shoving again for emphasis.

"I am not-" he said, but he's grinning now, fully awake. "you're the one who rolled into my space."

"I did not-" you protested, but you might have.

 You were dreaming about something involving him, which is embarrassing enough without admitting it.

"Yes you did!" he said. There was a playful challenge in his voice. 

"You were like- sprawled out. Very aggressive sleeping," He remarked.

"Shut up!" you said, laughing.

"Make me,"

He said it in that joking way that friends said things, but something about the way he looked at you in the dark made it feel like less of a joke.

You didn’t think.You just grabbed a pillow and swung at him.

 Suddenly you were in a full-on pillow fight at- you glance at the clock- 3:47 AM in David spades basement.

He laughed, trying to defend himself, and you were both getting increasingly aggressive about the whole thing. The playfulness has an edge to it, something charged underneath. You were both breathing hard, and when you swing again, he catches the pillow mid-air and yanks it out of your hands-

"Okay, okay, I surrender" you said, grinning.

"You sure?" he asked, and before you can answer, he's flinging the pillow aside and tackling you back onto the bed.

It's not gentle.

then he pinned your wrists down, straddling your waist to keep you from flipping him over.

"I win," he said, breathing hard, his face mere inches from yours.

And that's when you felt it.

He's hard. 

Pressed up against your core through the thin layers of your shorts and his boxers.

The realization hit you both at the exact same moment.

He scrambled off you so fast he almost fell off the bed, and you're frozen for a second, processing what just happened. Your heart is pounding, and it wasn’t entirely from wrestling.

 "O-oh my god," he said, and his entire face flushed with mortification 

“i- that's not- i'm so sorry."

“It’s okay-“ you tried to reply casually but your voice cracks.

 You sigh, standing up to retrieve the forgotten pillows scattered across the room, placing the pillows back in their place.

You looked at him genuine, “Seriously it’s okay,”

 You almost felt guilty, he looked like he was about to cry.

You lay back down,

“It’s fine, I swear.”-

"It's not fine," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I just-we were wrestling and you were laughing and-" he peeked through his fingers. 

"I'm going to die of embarrassment. This is how I die."

Your thoughts began to race again, 

You couldn’t help but be a little flattered, I mean— who wouldn’t? 

You glanced back at him again, only to find him staring back at you. 

He's quiet for a long moment, just looking back at you. But there's something else other than the buzz of embarrassment. Something that looks like he's trying to understand what you might be thinking.

You both blushed, thinking about how stupid the situation was in the first place.

It had to be at least 4 am, and you too are feeling awkward about a pillow fight incident.

 You laughed at the thought, then you laughed more, looking at Ben now. He looks at you- still vulnerable. He begins to laugh along with you.

In the end, you were both brought to tears. 

“Now this is real comedy.”

“i’m not hogging it,” he says, voice clipped, sitting on the edge of the bed and tapping his foot like a ticking clock. “you’re just, loud when you move.”

loud, you’re loud. right.

you sigh. “sure, let’s call it that.” you roll your eyes, already anticipating a night of tossing and turning because he refuses to give you space.

later, the room is dark except for the soft glow of your phone. you’re on your side, knees drawn up, when you feel it, a subtle nudge against your shoulder.

“move over,” he mutters. “it’s not like i want to touch you, just, there’s barely room.”

your eyes snap open. he’s already half on your side of the bed. of course he is. you should’ve expected this.

“i cannot believe this,” you whisper, but there’s no real strength in your words. because now that he’s there, inches from you, there’s no denying the warmth radiating from him. and maybe, just maybe, it’s nice.

he doesn’t say anything, just shifts slightly, tucking his arm under your shoulder. it’s the kind of contact that would normally make your brain scream, but right now your body is betraying you by leaning into it.

“don’t think this means anything,” he mutters, and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

you scoff softly. “oh, i wasn’t thinking anything. don’t flatter yourself.”

but then his hand is brushing your arm. lightly, just brushing. and the rational part of your brain is screaming, this is ridiculous. you hate him.

and yet, you find yourself inching closer, your shoulder brushing his, his chest against yours.

“you’re really annoying,” he says finally, voice low and breathy.

“thank you,” you reply sarcastically, heart racing. because maybe, just maybe, you’re not entirely sure if you’re hating him anymore.

and then, impossibly, your lips meet.

it’s sloppy, accidental, the kind of kiss that makes you jolt back immediately, both of you frozen.

“i, i,” he stammers, face flaming red.

“we’re never speaking of this,” you say firmly, shoving him gently.

“agreed,” he hisses, but his hand lingers near yours. just a fraction too close.

you lie awake for hours, blanket tangled around both of you, hearts pounding, and it’s clear neither of you will ever admit just how much you’ve been lying to yourselves.

and somehow, despite the irrational hatred, the bed feels impossibly warm.

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