#brattyloser

There is smoke billowing out the hallways and the windows and the shrill scream of sirens in the background. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around Michael’s shoulders, and he sits on the step of the pavement with his hands buried deep in his pockets, staring at the red glow that’s bathing the whole pavement.

Ray isn’t talking to him.

He’s sitting close, close enough to touch but he keeps that small distance of space between them and stares straight ahead, eyes unfocused, glasses slipping down his nose. “I’m sorry,” Michael tries again, but Ray doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn, keeps staring straight ahead with that blank look on his face and fuck, he’s scaring the hell out of Michael.

The teachers hovering around can’t seem to decide if they want to hug both boys or scold them and curse them to the seventh level of hell. Mr. Ramsey (who’s always been cooler than all the other teachers in school) just shakes his head in their general direction, making Michael feel a pang of regret.

So performing chemical experiments in the science lab unsupervised had been a bad idea.

But if there’s one thing Michael’s good at, it’s bad ideas.

Which means that technically, he’s good at the whole unsupervised chemical experiment thing (not that Ray would agree, and he’d probably tell that to him when he starts talking to Michael again).

He really should’ve stopped when the mixture started bubbling dangerously, the test-tube growing too hot to touch. But he’d been so curious, and didn’t the teachers in school always tell him that he should assuage his curiosity? Keep trying until he finds all the answers he’s looking for?

So he’d put the mixture over an open Bunsen burner flame to the chants of Ray’s “Michael, stop,” only he hadn’t listened, had watched the flames of the burner turn a bright green as it let out a loud whistling noise before it exploded. He loses the test-tube of chemicals in the chaos, but it doesn’t matter, because he can’t breathe past the smoke clouding his vision or see through the fumes choking his lungs. A pair of hands (Ray’s probably) finds him and yanks him away from the site of the explosion, and soon Michael finds that he can breathe again.

Ray looks as disheveled as Michael feels, but he’s always been the more level-headed one, so he punches through the nearby fire alarm (Michael’s set one off before; it resulted in two weeks of detention) as he shakes his head in disbelief.

Michael quickly takes off his glasses and starts cleaning it out so that he doesn’t have to see the look on Ray’s face.

“I can’t believe it,” and Ray’s voice is breathless and slightly croaky (probably from the smoke inhalation) and all parts disappointed. “I told you not to do it. I fucking told you.”

Michael says nothing in response as they speed down the hallways, blending into the stream of students pouring out of classrooms, who clearly don’t give a fuck that the fire alarm is blaring loudly and persistently. Ray, despite them being safely and well-hidden in the crowd, does not slow down, simply grips Michael’s wrist and drags him along, weaving through the students absentmindedly chatting about “That god-awful noise. Do you think they’re going to turn it off soon?”

They are the first out the school doors, and Mr. Ramsey is already in their faces, brows knitted tight with worry. “You two again,” he states, expression unhappy.

“Something exploded in the lab sir,” Ray explains. “We barely got out in time.”

He looks at them and heaves a sigh, turning to the other teachers anxiously talking amongst themselves a short distance away. “Someone get them shock blankets. No one touches them, we can find out the details later.”

Which is how they’d ended up sitting on a small step on the side of the road, blankets wrapped firmly around their shoulders as the adults nearby talk in worried little whispers. Michael tries to get Ray’s attention, he really does, but his best friend is still staring straight ahead, eyes glazed over, resolutely not responding to anything he says.

Maybe it’s best to leave him for a bit, except this has never happened before, so Michael isn’t exactly sure about what to do with a silent Ray. It makes him nervous, jittery, and immensely unhappy. But it is his fault for being such a fuck-up, might as well suck it up and deal with the consequences. (Although the thought of Ray never talking to him again doesn’t sit well in his gut.)

The smoke is cleared out in a matter of minutes, and while the lab is unusable, the rest of the school survives unscathed. Everyone is sent home early, and many a schoolmate passes them by and gives them a small pat on the back and a wide smile. “Thanks for getting us a half-day today!” they call out cheerfully, but soon start staying far away as Michael glares at every friendly wave, emanating an air of go-the-fuck-away. Mr. Ramsey comes back up to them when the fire engines have cleared and there is no more smoke pouring out of every open door and window, tells them that Principal Burns wants to see them in his office, and quietly whispers a “Thank god you’re okay,” as he sends them off. “Please try to stay out of trouble you assholes.” Michael manages a small grin as Ray ducks his head in apology, leading the way to the Principal’s office at the back of the school building. He follows behind, feet all too familiar with this route, and quietly comments that it’s kinda weird all the classrooms are empty today.

Ray still doesn’t say a word.

They reach the office in relative silence, and are met by the tired glare of Principal Burns. He gives them a stern lecture, about chemical safety and how both their faces could’ve been burnt the fuck off (“You guys are really lucky this time”). Michael listens half-heartedly, but keeps stealing glances at Ray, who’s staring fixatedly at the small bobble head on the desk.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Principal Burns is shooing them out of the classroom with two weeks of detention (meant to be spent cleaning up the lab) and two free ice cream coupons (their principal is weirdly awesome like that). He catches up to Ray who is walking quickly down the hallway, and stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, wait–”

“Seriously Michael, fuck off.” And they stand there, staring each other down, Ray’s expression hard and unforgiving, Michael’s just daring him to take the punch. It takes a few minutes, but finally, finally, Ray’s shoulders slump. “Fuck you.” (In other words: you asshole, I’ll forgive you this one fucking time; Michael is really good at reading subtext.)

Michael grins in response and waves the coupons in his face. “Wanna go for ice cream?”

“I don’t see why the fuck not,” Ray finally relents, albeit half-heartedly. “Just… jesus Michael. Not again. Next time, you listen to me okay?”

Michael doesn’t bother answering and Ray doesn’t bother forcing one out of him, even as Michael slings an arm around his shoulders and steers him out of the school. It’s a routine they’re all too used to, Michael fucking up and Ray fixing it for him (and you would think that with all the disappointed looks Ray gives him on a near daily basis, being at the receiving end of one would be easier) and then ice cream afterwards, or video games, or the arcade or whatever they feel like doing.

When they reach the ice cream parlor the nice lady behind the counter gives them double portions, and shakes her head at them as they pass her the coupons. “You two get in trouble again?” she drawls, and Ray smiles sheepishly at her. Michael is too engrossed in his chocolate chip mint flavoured ice cream to notice the slight shake of her head however, and pulls Ray towards their favorite seat in the corner of the parlor. He’d brought Ray here once on a girl-watching mission which had turned into a disaster (he’d thought throwing cone crumbs at her would get her attention; turns out girls don’t like crumbs in their hair), so they just sit in silence and watch the cars pass by, a small nagging feeling tugging at the ends of Michael’s nerves.

He turns to tell Ray something, but the thought dies on his tongue when he notices how tired Ray looks, just exhaustion and weariness in his expression, and immediately feels a pang of regret.

“What’re you looking at?” he asks without turning to face Michael. Even so, he can’t help but avert his gaze, afraid that Ray would think him creepy for all the staring.

“Uh, nothing,” he lies easily enough. “Just…your mum knows about today?”

He sighs and looks even smaller than usual. “Not yet, I’m hoping they don’t call her up, but I’m pretty sure they will.” He glances over at Michael, who’s still pretending to not look at him. “What about yours? I know they can get a little bat-shit crazy about all these stunts you pull.”

Michael scoffs at that. “They can go fuck themselves. They were way worse when they were my age. My dad set off a bomb in a bathroom that got him expelled from school; they’ve no right to beat me up over something stupid like blowing up a science lab.”

He’s gratified that Ray merely smiles and shakes his head at that, returning his attention to his ice cream, because his parents were going to beat him up for all the shit he’s pulled today, and he’ll have to find some other lie for the bruises that are going to be on his arms tomorrow. For now, he shoves the thought of that future aside and focuses on the ice cream melting in his mouth, chucking a piece of napkin at Ray when he spots a giant drip down the front of his shirt.

“Quit eating like a fucking baby,” he says, before Ray shoves his ice cream into his nose.

“You quit eating like a baby,” he retorts and dodges Michael’s swipe at his ice cream cone, bolting out of his chair and out the door, Michael immediately following in hot pursuit.

So maybe it was the wind in his face or the passerby that gives them strange looks (even though they didn’t give a fuck) that makes Michael laugh hysterically, eyes streaming with tears as he rounds the corner and finds Ray grinning, a little short of breath as he hurriedly stuffs most of his ice cream cone in his mouth.

And it’s when they’re standing in a dirty, dank alleyway that Michael looks up at Ray and feels an odd thumpthumpthump in his chest that makes him stop short. But before he can think about it Ray has pushed his ice cream into his face again and is peeling around the corner of the alleyway and onto the crowded sidewalk, so Michael pushes the weird thumpthumpthump aside and chases after him, breathless as he races after Ray down the sidewalk.

The rest of the afternoon is spent playing tag like they’re ten years old again, with not a care in the world as they chase each other through the neighborhood (except now they’re fence-vaulting and overturning rubbish bins and causing much more damage than they used to). And for one blessed afternoon, Michael feels like he’s just him again, without the terrible record at school and the terrible grades to match. Even when he gets home and his mum is screaming at him it doesn’t wipe the grin off his face, and he lets her words fly past his ears without so much as a nod in her direction.

Ray comes over the next day, and they spend it like every other Saturday afternoon, playing fucking video games. His mum adores Ray, feeds him endless cups of lemonade and her famous homemade cookies as soon as he walks through the door. Michael just sticks his tongue out at her when she turns her back to them, walking out to the kitchen to grab another plate of freshly baked cookies (“For Ray. Michael Vincent Jones, I better not catch you eating these!”). As quick as lightning, he snatches one from the stash Ray's hoarding and stuffs it in his mouth as Ray looks on in horror.

“Those are mine you asshole!”

“Yeah, well,” he manages through a mouthful of cookie. “She never gives me any, so I gotta steal some from you.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon messing around on Dead Space as Michael tries to steal more cookies from Ray. Which means he actually has to lean over Ray’s lap as Ray knees him in the stomach in self-defence. Which, to be honest, is really kind of distracting, because Ray is a steady warm heat under his stomach that's exposed from all the jostling and play fighting, and when Ray suddenly stills and looks down at him in confusion, Michael finds himself blindsided by the thought running through his head.

Wow.

And it's ridiculous because he doesn't even know what that means, just that Ray is looking at him in this confused way and Michael finds he can't think straight anymore. “I–uh I need the bathroom,” he stammers after way too much staring and locks himself in the toilet, quietly willing Ray to just go home and not wait for him to come back out.

He never thought he'd ever say this, but he's thankful that his mum steps in when he's spent nearly an hour locked in the bathroom, staring absently at the mirror above the sink and worrying his bottom lip. She sends Ray off, promises to check on Michael and when he hears the click of the front door, he collapses into a boneless heap on the bathroom floor.

She opens the door without ceremony (he fucking forgot to lock it, again) and stands in the doorway, an imposing figure with her hand on her hip. “Michael Vincent Jones,” and he immediately knows he's not going to like what she says next. “The men in this house were not raised to be cowards.”

“What the fuck do you mean,” he bites back, all teeth and sharp edges.

She is completely unimpressed by it. “I mean that it's time you got your head out of your ass and do something about you and Ray.”

Well shit. Hearing it out loud starts the panic stirring in his gut all over again, and he lunges forward to close the door and lock out anymore words she may have to say. Except she a Joneses mum, and she's dealt with a lot more bullshit than his (he has five older brothers, she's a pro at dealing with their shit) so she stands her ground at the entrance to the bathroom (the entrance to hell) like a devil guarding the gates to fucking Hades.

After a moment of blind scuffling where Michael tries to squeeze past her or kick her away or make her fucking stop, he gives in and slumps back against the bathtub, running his fingers through his hair, and trying to manage the thoughts speeding through his brain at ungodly speeds. Fuck this. Fuck his mum, fuck his feelings, fuck Ray. (And yes, he'd like to fuck Ray very much, but no, his brain is not doing this, not now, because it's really not a good idea–)

“How long have you known?” he says instead, and even he's surprised by how tired and drained and resigned he sounds when he asks it.

She offers him a small, sympathetic smile and leans down to run her fingers through his hair briefly. “Quite a long time now,” before finally (finally!) leaving him alone with his messed up emotions pumping through his veins. “Tell him,” she calls back when she's quite a distance away, startling Michael from his self-pity. “I'm pretty sure the interest is reciprocated.”

“And what about the part of you that isn't sure,” he mutters morosely under his breath. Because this was Ray they were talking about, who is actually nice enough to put up with Michael, and listens to him bitch about teachers and school and the system, who gets him out of messes and is there to pick him up and believe in him even when no one else will. And he can't fuck that up, not with stupid feelings and emotions and sappy things like wanting to fuck Ray thrown out into the open. He can't fuck up the first friendship he's ever had that's more than not wanting him to beat them up in school.

It's in this state, half collapsed against the bathtub, head throbbing with one too many thoughts running through his mind, that he has the most brilliant plan in the history of brilliant plans, ever.

(Except its going to be a bad idea, he's the king of that, and it's going to turn out so badly but it would totally be worth it.)

The two of them are going to have so much fun, so much platonic fun, that Michael will be able to trick his brain into thinking he only likes Ray as a friend, that all feelings towards him are merely friendship and nothing more. They were (are and will be) best friends in all the time they've known each other, and by doing normal best friend things, he'd remind his brain about how non-crush-y his feelings for Ray are; he'll trick his mind into thinking that he only likes Ray as a friend.

It's brilliant, so simple and absolutely effective. It renews him with vigor and gets him up on his feet, fills him with a sense of determination as he runs into the living room and picks up his phone, sending Ray a quick text.

His mum pokes her head out from the kitchen and asks “Finally decided to get your shit together?”

Michael grins at her. “I've figured it out. Can't go wrong with what I've planned.”

She shakes her head and vanishes back round the corner. “Ray's a simple kind of guy, there's no need to plan something elaborate for him. Just ask him out to dinner, buy him a carnation or something and you're set.”

He shakes his head and dials in the number of the kid whose dad owns the toy shop two streets down. “If my plan works, I won't have to.”

Ray is waiting outside their classroom when Michael gets to school, and he grins as he holds up a plastic bag. “You said ‘Got something fun and exciting planned’. I took the liberty of not questioning you till your fingers bleed from all the typing,” Ray says, eyeing the bag suspiciously. “Am I supposed to be happy about what's in that bag?”

“Very,” Michael says with a maniacal grin before clearing his throat self-importantly. “I have a proposition for you Mr. Narvaez, and would appreciate if you ask no more questions and simply follow my lead.”

Ray sighs and shakes his head. “Oh my god, this is going to end terribly,” he groans, “I'm going to have to save your sorry ass again aren't I?”

“We'll see,” Michael finishes with a conspiratorial wink, as the first bell of the day sounds and they head into their classrooms.

Break finds them pressed up against each other in a locker –in a very distracting way in Michael's opinion– as they take turns breathing through the tiny vent, peering through the slits and waiting for the girls to empty out of the locker room. “This is a terrible idea,” Ray hisses at him as the last few girls, chatting loudly and obnoxiously, walk out of the room. “We're gonna get fucking expelled for this.”

“Only blowing stuff up in the bathroom gets you expelled,” Michael reminds him, before catiously pushing open the door of their locker, forcing himself away from the nice warm heat that is Ray.

“Well, we blew stuff up last Friday, and today we're in a girls locker room. I think it's close enough,” he grouses as he follows closely behind.

Michael pays him no heed. “Quick! Grab a handful and chuck them into the nearest lockers. They're gonna be back in half an hour and I want us to fill as many lockers as we can.”

By the the time the girls return to the locker room, the two of them are safely in the hallway, leaning against the door and holding their breaths.

The first shriek scares the shit out of them, but also gets them cracking up, and they bolt out of the hallway and into the nearest classroom, clutching each other for support.

“I'm gonna hate you,” Ray manages between breaths. “I'm gonna hate you when we're found out and have to attend another three weeks of detention, but it will be completely worth it.”

And his smile is bright and so earnest and so happy and young again that Michael's breath catches in his throat and he barely has time to choke out a “Gotta use the bathroom” before he runs away. Again.

The rubber snakes in the girls' locker room don't work. Clearly, because Ray is smiling all soft and fond at him when he's a mess of feelings and insanity and too many fuck ups in life. Ray deserves better, he tells himself as he stares himself down in the mirror. Ray deserves much better; he deserves to have a pretty girl who'd hold on to his arm and follow him around school and laugh at his jokes, who is as good as Ray at everything she does, who is beautiful and wonderful and brilliant. Someone who doesn't get him into trouble the way Michael does, who doesn't get as many disappointed looks from Ray, who doesn't make him tired and worried and stressed out all the fucking time.

Basically, Ray is too good for him.

He repeats this like a mantra as he walks back to find Ray exactly where he left him, a faraway look on his face as he lounges against the lockers. Ignoring the twinge in his chest when Ray looks at him with a lopsided grin, eyes still blown from the excitement and adrenaline of the prank they pulled earlier, he raises his right hand in a fist.

“Thanks for being a great friend,” he says, and means it. (This is probably the closest he'll ever come to saying something remotely like “I love you”.)

Ray's smile widens, although it doesn't really reach his eyes, as he returns the fist bump. “No problem you asshole. Someone's gotta be there to save you when you fuck up.”

Michael laughs and reaches up to ruffle his hair affectionately, smile softening as Ray ducks and swats away his hands. Yeah, he couldn't lose this, couldn't ruin something as important as this friendship. So for now, he's contented with exactly where they stand with each other.

(Except occasionally, it still hurts to see Ray watching a pretty girl pass by or blow off their Saturday afternoons for someone he finally has the courage to ask out, although he can't help but notice that all the girls he dates are beautiful, fiery redheads, and chooses not to comment, because the days that Ray ditches him for girls are still far and in between, and he wants it to stay that way for as long as possible.)

An announcement comes in one day about the plastic snakes found in the girls' lockers, and Ray shoots him a small secretive smile as he sniggers quietly behind his hand. Principal Burns “implores the culprits to turn themselves in” and chastises them “for behaving so childishly”. Mr. Ramsey notices their smirking and narrows his eyes at them.

“Please don't tell me it's you two again,” he sighs, and he sounds strangely resigned about it.

Ray struggles to keep a straight face as he sits up in his seat. “No sir, it wasn't us. This is news to us too.”

“Hilarious news, really,” Michael adds from the other end of the classroom, and shoots Ray another grin. There is another tired sigh from their teacher, but he doesn't add another word, merely shaking his head as they burst into another round of giggles when Principal Burns describes the incident as “traumatizing and emotionally scarring for many”.

It makes Michael deliriously happy when Ray blows off his girlfriend for him today, watching her throw an angry glare at Michael and a sad pout in Ray's general direction before storming off. Michael can't help the immense sense of satisfaction in watching her go, as Ray starts talking animatedly about the prank they pulled.

“It's the greatest thing ever,” he says, grin wide and eyes dancing with excitement as they head into the canteen. “And we weren't even caught this time!”

Michael finds his good mood infectious, and feels a sudden pang of affection for Ray that he doesn't even try to fight anymore. “Know what we could do later tonight?” he asks, interrupting Ray's rambling.

The momentary puzzlement, and sudden swallow Ray takes as he considers that statement doesn't escape Michael's notice.

So he hurriedly amends that “I want to set off fireworks in the field. I just thought it'd be fun if we did it together you know. It'd be pretty cool.” Something unfamiliar flickers over Ray's features and Michael sharply wonders if he'd fucked up somewhere along the way, but Ray's expression evens out quickly enough and he has that fuzzy-feeling-inducing-lopsided-smile that he's awfully good at, and Michael smiles helplessly in response. “So I take it you're in?”

Everything goes as planned. Everyone else has left long ago and they have the whole field to themselves. They set off firework after firework in the darkened night sky and whoop loudly and unabashedly at each explosion. “What if we're found out?” Ray yells above the noise. Michael sets off another one that explodes into showers of green and blue.

“It would still be totally worth it!” he yells back through another cackle in the sky, cheering loudly at the red and yellow that color the black of the night.

He turns to pick out another one (bigger, louder, brighter), when his eyes meet Ray's and he holds his breath for a moment. Ray blinks owlishly at him, and suddenly pulls back.“I– uh–”

But Michael doesn't want to hear excuses, hear about how he's sorry for staring or sorry for making things awkward (“That was nothing Michael, sorry for being weird”) because for one blessed moment, he'd thought that Ray was looking at him because he liked him, however remotely. So he sets off the loudest thing he can find and tries to ignore the hurt thumping like a rhythm in his chest or the frustration boiling and bubbling furiously beneath his skin.

He watches the fireworks explode overhead and loses himself in the moment.

It's easy to pretend nothing happened when they run out of fireworks and Michael says that he probably should be heading back and “Won't your parents be worried sick?”

“Nah,” Ray says with a small shrug. “Mum's pulling an all-nighter and Dad's back at the bar. I'm all alone tonight.”

Michael offers him a sympathetic smile (he knows what it feels like to be all alone from when he was in middle school and the house would be too huge and too empty when he gets home) and walks him to his front door, both boys good-naturedly shoving and teasing each other the whole way back. “See you in school tomorrow,” he says as they part ways, and suddenly has the overwhelming urge to kiss him good night (which he politely tells to go fuck itself).

“Yeah,” Ray breathes back with a small smile, waving as he closes the door behind him, leaving Michael still staring at the closed door, heart in his throat.

He is fucked. So, completely, fucked.

Ray meets him the next afternoon and they head down to the nearby arcade to beat the high scores on some (most) of the games. Mostly, Michael stands back and watches Ray thrash the hell out of game after game, and soon, there's a small crowd gathered, watching as he plays the fuck out of one of those dance machines Michael will never be good at.

“Dude you should totally give it a shot,” Ray tells him when he's finished beating the high score of every single fucking song, slightly short of breath, hair a mess and glasses slipping down his nose.

Michael scoffs, completely unimpressed. “No fucking way, you know I suck at those things.”

But Ray's attention is elsewhere, and Michael notices the redhead sauntering past them in tiny shorts and a too small t-shirt. Instead, he swallows past the jealousy and casually comments that “She's really hot, you should totally ask her out.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent trying to help Ray pick up the redhead chick, except she's a stubborn one, and scoffs at all their cheesy pick up lines, until Michael, having seen enough of Ray's miserable face, finally resorts to striking a deal with her.

“If he beats you in that stupid dance machine thing, you go on one date with him. Just one.”

She eyes the both of them sceptically, before her lips quirk up in a smirk. “Deal.”

Ray wins her (no doubt there) but it's a close fight, and she looks duly impressed by his skills (which she definitely should, because Ray was amazing; Michael may or may not be a little biased).

Michael inches away from them, doesn't want to hear the plans they're making (because then he might be tempted to stalk them and that won't end well). Finally, he slinks out of the arcade, alone, and heads back home.

Something delicious is cooking in the kitchen, and he follows his nose to find his mother baking up a storm, pots and pans scattered all over the area.

She looks up as he enters, and immediately furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “Where's Ray?”

“On a date,” he replies as nonchalantly as possible, dipping his finger into the cookie batter and stuffing it into his mouth, narrowly missing his mother's rolling pin.

“Oh,” and she sounds genuinely disappointed. “The carnation didn't work?”

Michael takes another finger-ful and tries his best to look cheerful. “Yeah,” he lies easily enough.

She sighs, a little sadly, and pats him on the head, leaving white streaks of flour in his hair. He doesn't complain, and sits around the kitchen, watching his mother finish baking her cookies. For the first time in a long, long while, he gets a whole plate of them to himself.

Pretty soon, Valentines' Day is around the corner, and when Michael wakes up one morning, he is surprised to find redhead waiting outside his house. His mother shoots him a knowning look before heading into the kitchen again, leaving Michael shuffling awkwardly at the doorway.

“Uh,” he says first, because he's an eloquent son of a bitch.

“We broke up,” she says instead, just as eloquently, expression pinched and clearly unhappy. “You're free to have him all to yourself now.”

Michael is a little stunned (to say the least), and carefully fists his hands in his shirt and doesn't say a word.

“He's completely in love with you,” she continues, apparently unaware of his discomfort (or maybe she knows, he can't say for sure and he doesn't know which is worse). “Wouldn't stop talking about you every time we were together, I got sick of it, so I broke it off. He didn't even look too upset about it.”

Michael is still resolutely ignoring her, trying to stem all the pent up hope that is suddenly bursting into his veins.

She continues talking for a bit and then leaves. He doesn't know how long he stands there, staring at an empty porch, until his mum is taking him by the shoulders and sitting him down. “Carnation, Michael, go get one from the nearby store. Tomorrow is Valentines' Day, you have the perfect opportunity to make it happen.”

He finally tears his eyes away from the pattern of the carpet and looks up at her, the slight smile on her face. He finally finds it in himself to grin back. “Yeah,” he says and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I'll make it happen.”

Remember how Michael is the king of bad ideas?

Well, this really just kind of proves it.

He'd bought the flower and had this huge thing planned where he'd take Ray to some secluded corner of the school and officially present him with the flower and Ray would say yes and then they'd be dating or something. Except, the flower starts wilting less than halfway through the day so he rushes to the bathroom to feed it water (he's still figuring out the details) and who should he find there but Ray.

They end up staring at each other for a couple of minutes, both just kind of waiting for the other to offer an explanation.

Ray breaks the silence first. “So uh, she must be pretty cool huh.”

And Michael feels the sinking in his gut as Ray tries (and fails) to force on a smile, and he can't (he can't) take all the pining and the waiting anymore, so he ends up thrusting the flower into Ray's face.

“Michael? What are you–”

“Be my valentine?” he blurts out instead, feeling his face heat up. “I could, uh, take you to nice restaurants, and hold hands with you too, if you're into that kind of stuff.”

Ray just kind of stands there and looks shocked at the whole thing, and Michael grows more nervous with each passing second of silence.

Oh fuck. He's fucked it up. “Uh,” he stammers out, feeling dread open a yawning chasm in the pit of his stomach. “Or we could not? And you could pretend I never fucked up like this? Like just forget I ever said anything, I should've known you aren't into dudes or me or anything, no pressure, let's just forget this ever happened–”

And suddenly Ray's kissing him, all lips and tongue and teeth. It's messy, it's far from perfect, but Michael kisses back with all he's got, until they're pulling apart for breath.

“Well fuck me,” Michael breathes, hands holding on to Ray for support.

Ray offers him a dry smirk (which just looks kind of sexy with his flushed cheeks and swollen lips). and says “I intend to, one day,” which makes Michael's face heat up even further. “I've been waiting to kiss you since forever.”

Michael smiles a little at that and leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “Thank god I wasn't the only one.”

Ray laughs, a happy, breathy sound. “But the fancy restaurant thing? It sounds boring as fuck. Could we do movies and popcorn and making out on your couch instead?”

“Fuck yeah we could,” Michael replies, laughing along as well.

The bathroom door suddenly squeals as it's opened and they jump apart as though burnt. They turn to see Gus the janitor watching them with an unhappy expression from where he's standing. The three of them stare at each other in awkward silence for awhile, before Gus sighs and waves them on.

“Please don't leave a fucking mess everywhere,” he calls over his shoulder, shaking his head as he trudges out of the bathroom. “Fucking finally you two,” he adds just as the door closes, leaving both boys giggling as they link hands and lean in for another kiss.

“Worth it?” Michael asks Ray one more time, just to be sure. Ray smiles at him, big and bright and beautiful, and Michael doesn't even have to fight the wave of affection he feels when that look's directed at him (and only him).

“You sure this is a good idea?” Ray’s shoes slap against the pavement as he clumsily lands on the other side of the turnstile. Michael had made it look so easy when he hopped over the bars.

Michael grabs Ray’s arm to steady him, keep him from falling on his face. He grins. “Well it sure as hell isn’t a bad idea.” He says before turning to make a beeline for a door labeled “Employees Only”. He assumes Ray follows, but he doesn’t bother to look back to check.

“Come on, Michael, I just want to go home. I spent hours shoving sappy couples on a dumb water ride. I’ve done my time.”

Michael reaches the door and picks the right key to unlock it. Hand on the door handle, he turns to look at his boyfriend. “Come on, Ray! That’s no way to spend a Valentine’s Day, dude. Let’s have some fun.”

Ray rolls his eyes, “Man, it’s officially the 15th. Valentine’s Day is over. It’s Saturday morning and I should be in bed.” He draws his arms across his chest and tries to rub warmth back into them. Michael swears he can almost see his breath form clouds in the air. “Why is this dumb park even open in February? It’s fucking freezing.”

Michael pushes open the door and steps inside. He flicks the switch on the wall to turn on the dim ceiling light. There’s not much to the room aside from a desk with a computer and a complicated looking console. The walls are decorated with safety posters and there are bookshelves lined with bins full of lost and forgotten items. Michael strides over to the console with the buttons, lights, and levers and calls to Ray, “God, you’re so whiny. I’ll give you a ride to your apartment after this alright?”

He lifts the ring of keys in front of his face to get a better look at this in the low light and flips through them before finding one that doesn’t look all that different from the others. But Michael knows which key this is; he’s watched Burnie start this place up for months. He shoves it into the awaiting slot on the console and gives it a hard turn to the right, a low hum starting up in response as lights flicker to life on the old board. There’s a large switch to one side just waiting to be pulled. The park is quiet and dark with the shadows of rides and kiosks littering the grounds, but then Michael pulls the switch and everything comes to life.

He goes to stand in the doorway and watches row after row of lights blink on. Bells and whistles start up and music begins playing from the speakers attached to lampposts. Ray has wandered away from the room, standing next to the information booth a few feet away. Michael can’t see his face – Ray’s facing the park and his back is to him – but his shoulders are slack and he stops complaining so Michael will take that as a good sign.

He ducks back into the room to unhook the rest of the keys from the lone one powering the park. They jingle against each other as he shoves them in his pocket. Ray is still staring at the lit up park when Michael stands next to him and bumps their shoulders together.

“So, what d’you think?” Michael slips his hand into Ray’s, their fingers interlacing and it’s then that Ray turns to look at him. The lights brighten one half of his face. He’s frowning.

“I think this is a shitty idea.”

Michael turns his nose up and steps away from Ray and towards the information booth with its displays still laden down with brochures. Looks like Caleb forgot to lock up again. “Yeah, well don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Michael said haughtily. He plucked a brochure titled “The Park and You!!” and flipped it open. He looks at the map of the grounds, running a finger down the list of rides. He had planned this a few days ago and didn’t honestly think he’d get this far, but fate had smiled on him and the stars had aligned and here they are inside the amusement park where they both worked after it had closed and everyone had gone home.

A few of the rides listed on the glossy paper catch his eye and suddenly Michael actually has an itinerary for the evening. “Come on, Debbie Downer,” he heads in the direction of the first stop on their unorthodox date nights, “I know how to get you to change that tune of yours.”

Ray groans but follows anyway. They’re standing in front of the tall wooden tower with numbers painted on the front and a bell at the top when Ray just gives Michael a look. “Seriously?” He looks from the tower to Michael and back to the tower. “You want me to play Ring the Bell? I suck at this game. Everybody sucks at this game. I thought we only kept it around as an excuse to have Blaine walk around shirtless.”

Michael picks up the hammer leaning against the base of the tower, the handle smooth and worn. He hands it to Ray. “C’mon, babe, just one swing. For fun.”

“Yeah, ‘fun’ my ass,” Ray mutters as he takes the hammer out of Michael’s loose grip. He takes a wide stance and holds the hammer up over his head, biting the bottom of his lip in concentration. There’s a moment when Michael lets himself admire how Ray looks right then in the bright lights of the park in the chilly February night. Then Ray swings downward with all the strength he can muster and hits the target on the ground.

They watch the weight bounce up, not even hitting the halfway mark, before dropping back down with a thud.

Michael doesn’t mean to laugh, honestly he doesn’t, but a strangled noise jumps from his throat anyway and he has to slam his hands over his mouth to prevent making things any worse. Ray’s head snaps to look at him and his face is flushed. “Oh fuck you, Michael.” For all the effort Ray puts into trying to frown, it looks suspiciously like he’s having a good time. His fingers are drumming against the handle of the hammer and his eyes are glistening with something close to humor.

Michael drops his hands from his face. “That sucked, dude.”

“Yeah, well.” Ray places the hammer back to its spot next to the tower.

“Alright,” Michael puts his hands on Ray’s shoulders and steers him further into the park, “Next stop here we come!”

Their next stop is bumper cars. Michael hops the short fence surrounding the control console and starts the ride up, the blinking lights and musical ringing of the bumper car station mixing with the other sounds of the park. It’s already sounding like a regular work day.

Ray bounces on his toes a few times, trying to keep himself warm in the dropping temperature, “Isn’t this Jack’s ride? Like his turf or whatever?”

“Yeah so?” Michael flips a few more switches before turning to Ray standing on the other side of the fence.  “And isn’t Burnie the one who has the keys to every ride in this joint?”

“Yeah…how did you get those exactly?”

Michael shrugs, failing to keep the smile off his face, “Sticky fingers.” He holds out his hand over the fencing so he can pull Ray over. “Let’s be real here,” he says as Ray climbs the fence, “This is the closest you’re ever gonna get to actually driving.”

They each pick their cars – Michael’s in the red one while Ray’s in the blue – and start off with a race from one side of the track to the other. This goes to hell nearly immediately when Ray slams his car into Michael’s and they both hit the wall. Michael calls foul play, insisting that Ray did that on purpose because he knew he was going to lose. Ray tries to look innocent as he speeds away. Michael gives chase and they spend the better part of twenty minutes running into each other and driving away when the other tries to retaliate. There’s laughter. There’s a lot of laughter from the both of them and Michael can barely see through his tears because what the hell, Ray how do you corner yourself on a track shaped like an oval.

The timer on the ride runs out and everything stops when they hit the half hour mark. Both cars come to a screeching halt and Michael swears he’s going to have whiplash the following morning.

“Welp,” Ray turns his wheel one way, then the other, but it’s locked and doesn’t do much besides make a dull thunk sound. “Unless you want to start it up again, I guess we’re done here.”

He has a point there, so Michael steps out of his vehicle and makes his way over to where his boyfriend is forcefully parked. They decide to move on.

They are wandering around the empty park, sharing a spool of cotton candy Michael swiped from one of the food stands when they pass the sign for the House of Mirrors.

“Oh shit,” Ray says around a mouthful of sugar, “We should go through there. I’ve only been in it once. I didn’t even get to the end.” Michael gives him a look. Not only is the House of Mirrors boring, but it’s not even that long. How had he never gone through the whole thing? Michael doesn’t get a chance to ask before Ray is already explaining away. “Gavin was showing me around the park my first day here and one of the mirrors made his nose look absolutely ridiculous. I cracked a joke, he got butthurt, and then bam. I’m banned from the House of Mirrors.” Ray sucks wispy trails of pink sugar off his fingers, “I guess it’s less banned and more ‘Gavin told me I sucked and kicked me out’, but whatever.”

Michael pulls the last of the cotton candy off of the cardboard cone and drops their trash in a nearby trashcan. “Well Gavin’s not here and we’ve got the whole park to ourselves. If you want to go through some boring as shit maze, let’s do it.” He sticks the cotton candy in his mouth and lets Ray grab his wrist and drag him inside the labyrinth.

The walls are high and reflective and it’s darker than it should be inside. It’s fun at first, making faces in the mirrors and getting startled by their own reflections when they rounded corners, but then they get lost – actually, legitimately turned around – and the novelty of the whole thing quickly fades.

“Isn’t this supposed to be easy?” Ray huffs as he leans against one of the countless mirrors, “Like, aren’t kids supposed to be able to figure this out? That means we’re dumber than a couple of fourth graders, right?”

Michael looks around the current dead end they had wandered in to and his only reward is staring at himself from every possible angle. This is only a little bit embarrassing because he has definitely made it through here before. Of course that was back during daylight hours when business was slow and he and Gavin were goofing around and wasting time. Michael realizes that this maze is a whole lot easier to navigate with a guide accompanying you. He pushes the wall closest to his right, if he remembers correctly, there should be a hidden door somewhere, but the mirrored surface doesn’t budge and Michael gives up pretty easily.

He looks at Ray, who’s still leaning against a wall and smirking at Michael.

“What?” Michael wouldn’t exactly call the face he makes ‘pouting’ but it’s pretty damn close.

“We’re hopelessly lost in some idiotic maze with no way in and no way out apparently. Sounds like we’ve got time to kill.”

Michael wouldn’t really call them hopelessly lost, but he likes the way Ray eyes him a little too much and lets it slide. He walks over and Ray drapes his arms over Michael’s shoulders as Michael settles his hands on Ray’s waist. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

Ray doesn’t get a chance to answer because apparently the mirror they are up against is the hidden door Michael vaguely remembers. The mirrored wall creaks before it spins around and deposits them on the cold ground outside.

Michael pushes himself off of the ground and sits up. Well that was one way to exit the House of Mirrors. He looks around to see where in the park they’ve ended up and laughs when he reads the sign a few feet away. The light bulbs surrounding it aren’t on, but he can still make out the words.

“Holy shit,” he manages to say around his laughter, “We definitely need to do this next.”

Ray had been dusting himself off and only looks up after Michael’s giggly statement. His face falls and he does not look very amused, “Nope. I get enough of this dumb ride during the day. I’m not paid enough to work after hours.”

Michael hops to his feet and walks over to the dimmed ride. “But it’s romantic, Ray,” he says. He turns around and bats his eyes, hands clasped together and foot popped in the air, “It’s the Tunnel of Love.”

Ray rolls his eyes and knocks Michael’s hands down, making Michael laugh as he moves to interlace their hands together. Ray pulls a face, “Fine whatever. Since you have a hard-on for boat rides or something.” He acts like he’s annoyed, but he’s smiling and tightens his hold on Michael’s hand.

Michael takes the steps two at a time and jumps into an empty seat in the first boat. Ray goes over to the console and starts it up. He presses the button near the microphone and goes through his usual pre-ride spiel.

“It’s time to sit tight, stay close, and take a slow ride through the Tunnel of Love. Where passion flares, hands wander, and cuddling is encouraged.” Ray leans in to the mic and lowers his voice, putting on a very much appreciated show for the only other person in the park at this time of night. “Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times and remember: all you need is love.” Michael places his hands over his heart and tilts his head, “aw”ing and cooing as Ray climbs in next to him. He always did like how Ray’s neck flushes with splotches of red when he gets embarrassed.

The ride starts and Michael really had forgotten how corny the whole thing was. When they go through the first arch the ceiling is decorated with strings of heart-shaped lights and images of cupid on the walls. It’s doused in a red light and there’s the sound of a beating heart. They drift through that first room, the water lapping the sides of the boat, and eventually they pass under the arch leading into the next room.

This one resembles a starry night more than the inner walls of someone’s left ventricle. Michael would even dare to say that it was sort of romantic. A soft song starts playing – with violins and everything – and the mood is set.

Ray scoots closer. Michael wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close, “Ray,” he chides in Ray’s ear. His voice is low and his breath must feel hot against Ray’s skin because Michael can feel him tense up, “Are you trying to make a move on me?”

Ray looks at Michael’s face, his eyes flickering to his lips for a second before looking into his eyes. “Nah, that’d be too forward. I’m not the type of guy to kiss on the first date.”

Michael leans in close, their noses lightly brushing. There is barely any space between them now and Michael doesn’t have to speak up to know that Ray can hear him. “Good thing this isn’t our first date then.”

When they exit the tunnel all giddy and faces flushed, Michael knows that he made the right choice sneaking in tonight. He and Ray climb out of the boat and descend the stairs of the ride. The shadowy figure of the Ferris wheel is visible from the tunnel’s exit and Ray points to it, his mouth still pink and shiny with spit.

“We’re riding that next,” he says.

Michael pulls a face. The ride is his wheelhouse, pun fully intended, but as romantic as Ferris wheels are, he isn’t all that keen to start up something he’s going to be operating in a few hours when the park opens. “No way, dude. I deal with people on that fucking thing all day.”

Ray doesn’t even flinch and strides towards the ride, leaving Michael behind. “We rode my shitty ride, so we have to ride yours. It’s only fair.”

Michael jogs to keep up, “Yeah, except a Ferris wheel is nowhere near as bad as some corny ass boats.”

The argument doesn’t matter much because Michael ends up starting the ride anyway. The whole wheel lights up bright and loud and it’s almost as beautiful as Ray’s face while he watches the display. Michael presses a button on the control panel and the wheel starts moving. Ray takes a step back and looks at the gondola slowly moving past him before looking at Michael, slightly confused. Michael grabs his hand and pulls him closer to the wheel, “We’re getting on the next one.”

“But it’s moving.” Ray doesn’t look all that convinced at the safety of Michael’s plan, but he doesn’t dig his heels into the ground, so that’s a promising sign.

Michael tries to be patient as he reassures his boyfriend, “It’s moving slow enough for us to get on.”

“Is it though?”

Ray doesn’t believe him and Michael finds that both understandable and frustrating.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be alright, Ray. Promise.”

Another gondola drifts past and when Michael boards it, Ray follows. They squish into the seat side by side and watch the park grow farther and farther away as they rise. “So what do you think about your Valentine’s Day?” Michael asks, looking over at Ray, who just shrugs and leans his head on Michael’s shoulder.

“You mean my day-after-Valentine’s-Day Valentine’s Day? It was alright. Too bad you didn’t buy me any chocolate though. Rookie mistake.”

Michael rests his head on top of Ray’s and hums. “The fifteenth is the best day to buy chocolate, Ray. Everything’s discounted.”

Ray snorts. Then he sits up and full on laughs. “True,” he says, wiping at his eyes, “Very true.”

Michael always feels a flicker of pride in his chest when he makes Ray laugh. He watches that face he loves so much look down on the partially lit park and there’s something about the way the stars from above frame Ray’s face and lights from the below reflect in his glasses that makes Michael lean in and kiss him.

He catches the edge of Ray’s mouth and Ray makes a startled noise before turning and meeting his lips. Michael puts his hands on the side of Ray’s face and tilts his head so their glasses don’t knock into each other quite so uncomfortably. He can feel Ray’s hands against his chest, palms pressed into him and fingers splayed.

Ray parts his lips and moans and Michael deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into Ray’s mouth. As Michael runs his tongue over Ray’s teeth he moves his hands from his face and fiddles with the button of his jeans. He doesn’t undo them just yet, satisfied with feeling Ray’s heat against him so many feet above the ground in the chilly February air.

Michael moves his hand from the button, instead slipping between Ray’s legs and palming him through the fabric. Ray shudders, actually physically shudders, and Michael feels so in control right now that he can’t tell if that dizzying feeling is from his arousal or the height. He continues to rub the bulge in Ray’s pants before Ray pulls away with a stuttered moan. Their lips are still touching and their breath mingles in faintly visible clouds.

“F-fuck, Michael,” he sounds so fucking undone and Michael nearly melts, “Don’t be a tease alright?”

Michael doesn’t laugh. He wants to because for some reason he finds Ray so laughably endearing, but he doesn’t because he knows that he’s holding on about as well as Ray is right now. So Michael doesn’t laugh and instead unbuttons Ray’s jeans with shaky fingers.

Ray shimmies to help Michael pull down his pants a bit and Michael is thankful for that, leaning in and pecking his lips to show his gratification. Michael sticks his hand beneath the waistband of Ray’s underwear and feels Ray’s warm tongue slip into his mouth as his nails dig grooves in his chest.

Michael fishes Ray’s cock from his boxers, the tip already slick with precum, and runs his thumb along the slit. Ray shudders again and moans into his mouth. Michael drinks down his moans with ease and spreads the discharge to lubricate Ray’s cock. He strokes the length of his dick with firm, assured pumps and Ray bucks his hips up into Michael’s grip. Michael keeps pumping, bringing up a hand to grip the back of Ray’s neck.

He breaks off the kiss and moves to nip at Ray’s ear. Ray whimpers, dropping his forehead onto Michael’s shoulder. Michael’s strokes speed up and are a little sloppy now and Ray keeps trying to roll his hips up and meet his hand halfway as he moans into the crook of Michael’s neck.

Michael can barely take it anymore. Watching Ray fall apart at his touch is absolutely intoxicating and his own erection presses against the fabric of his jeans. He drags his hand up the back of Ray’s neck and growls four words into his ear that make him absolutely lose it.

“Cum for me, Ray.”

And he does. Ray spills over, across himself and Michael’s hand, shuddering and shaking as he moans Michael’s name. Michael relishes the feeling of Ray’s dick in his hand and lips against his neck as he milks the last of his boyfriend’s orgasm. It’s only when Ray is done and sits up to give Michael a sweet, sweet kiss that Michael realizes the Ferris wheel has stopped moving.

Ray seems to realize this at the same time and frowns at Michael, eyes glazed over and face flushed. “Did we stop?” His voice is surprisingly steady for all the noise he was making not but a minute ago.

Michael nods. He looks down at the mess on his hand and contemplates licking it off. “Yeah.”

Ray tucks himself back in his pants and wipes his hand on his leg as he looks over the edge at the ground below. “Hey, uh, isn’t that Gus down there?”

Michael peers over the side of the gondola and follows Ray’s gaze. He balks. His blood runs cold. “Oh shit.” The wheel starts moving again.

That is definitely Gus standing at the bottom of the Ferris wheel and looking up at their gondola. If they weren’t so high up, Michael could probably count the frown lines in his face. Not that the distance will be a problem in a few minutes. Michael leans back into the car and looks at Ray, who looks every bit as ruffled as Michael feels.

“We’re boned aren’t we?”

Michael slowly nods, “So fucked.” But then an idea strikes him and Michael starts to form a plan. It’s not the best plan, granted, but it’s better than waiting for the inevitable tongue lashing that awaited them at the bottom. “Well…maybe we’re not as fucked as we think we are.”

Ray’s eyes are on him and they’re cloudy with confusion. “You wanna explain that one to me?”

“We’re gonna jump.”

“What?”

Michael is already moving to stand on his seat. “When we get close enough to the ground we’re going to jump. And then we’re gonna run. He can’t do shit to us if he can’t catch us, right?”

“Michael, we still have to come to work tomorrow.”

“Eh,” Michael shrugs and the gondola swings a little. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Ray leans over the edge to see how far away from the ground they still are. He’s running through the possible scenarios in his head – Michael just knows it – and Michael knows he’s got a partner in crime. “Yeah I mean, what, that’s only a few hours from now, right?” Ray says as he stands up on the seat alongside Michael. The car swings a little more dangerously this time.

“Right.” Michael says.

When he decides that they are close enough to not risk shattering their ankles, Michael tells Ray to get ready. He jumps first and almost eats shit, hitting the ground harder than he anticipates. He straightens himself out and looks around for Ray only to discover that Ray’s not on the ground with him. Michael glances up at the rotating Ferris wheel and sees that Ray is still in the gondola and looking wary. Michael holds his arms out and tries to look as comforting as possible, “Come on, Ray! Jump!”

“If I bust my ass, it’s totally your fault you know!”

“Yeah, I know, I love you too. Now jump!”

Ray jumps. He jumps and lands pretty much directly on top of Michael. They fall to the ground in a pile of limbs and dust clouds and preliminary bruises and are up and running in no time flat. Michael’s feet are hitting the pavement so hard he can feel his teeth rattle and his fingers are locked tight between Ray’s. They don’t stop when they hear Gus yelling after them. They don’t slow down when they pass the information booth and reach the front gate. They don’t stall when they have to jump over the turnstiles again. That’s how Michael nearly breaks his toes on the bars and Ray hits his shin on the hard metal.

They limp their way to Michael’s car in the empty parking lot and crawl in, breathing heavy and assessing the damage. Ray rolls up his pant leg and winces at the already purpling blemish against his skin. “We are so fired,” he says as he experimentally prods at his battle wound.

Michael starts the car and puts it in gear. They roll out of the parking lot and head back towards the city. “Nah,” is the only thing Michael has to say. Because it’s true. Because who can blame him for wanting to sneak into an amusement park after hours for a romantic date with his boyfriend? No one, that’s who.

They ride along in silence for a while. Ray speaks up first. “So, are you going to give me a ride home now? I’ll even let you spend the night.” He walks his fingers down the length of Michael’s arm and though he can’t look away from the road at that moment, Michael knows that Ray’s giving him that look. The playful one that makes him want to suck on Ray’s bottom lip and leave marks all over his body. “I should warn you though: I don’t fuck on the first date.”

It was early Friday morning when Dan woke up to a cold wet sensation pressed against his mouth. If it wasn’t for the distinctly sour smell and relatively light weight on his chest, Dan would have guessed that it was his boyfriend giving him early morning Valentine’s Day kisses. When he opened his eyes however, it wasn’t Gavin’s eager face staring at him.

A small brown dog was sitting on his chest, ears perked and tail wagging with a bright red bow tied around its neck. Dan grunted, partially out of confusion and partially out of amusement. The dog rose and fell with the vibrations from his chest and wagged its tail even harder. Dan chuckled at the enthusiasm, sending the dog bouncing up and down again. At least someone was happy to see him this morning.

He looked around the small bedroom for any sign of his boyfriend. The door to the bathroom was closed, florescent light seeping from between the cracks. Dan could hear the sound of running water and that endearing voice he adored so much warbled a familiar tune over the sound of the shower. Dan settled into the sheets and looked at the furball on his chest. “Looks like it’s me and you for now, mate.”

Dan was scratching the dog’s head when Gavin finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and freshly showered. Gavin was drying his hair with a towel when Dan rolled over the face the bathroom doorway, keeping the dog held close to his chest. “What’s this then?”

Gavin peered at Dan from beneath the fabric with a grin. He let the towel drop around his shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking to accommodate his weight. “It’s a puppy,” Gavin said.

“I see it’s a puppy, B. I’m asking why it’s in the bed.” The puppy barked and Dan couldn’t help but chuckle when it pressed its cold wet nose to his cheek. “It’s even got a nice little bow around its neck.” Dan said, plucking at the glossy red fabric. 

The dog wriggled out of Dan’s grip and plodded across the sheets towards the edge of the bed. “It’s your present!” Gavin squealed as he picked up the puppy, his towel falling to the floor. Clearly he and the dog had had some sort of bonding time before hand, because the puppy squirmed in Gavin’s hands as it eagerly licked his face. Gavin giggled and Dan spared a moment from his confusion to enjoy his boyfriend’s giddy laughter. Suddenly, Gavin’s laughs were punctuated by a gasp. “Oh! There’s a second part to the gift!” He said as he stood up from the bed and bounded over to the closet, dog and bow and all.

Dan sat up so that he was propped up against the headboard and watched Gavin rifle through their cluttered closet.  He had a sneaking suspicion that the puppy was more of a gift for Gavin than it was for himself. But, seeing the beaming look on Gavin’s face as he turned around with a cardboard box under one arm and the dog in another, Dan decided that that was okay. That bright smile and the wrinkles that formed around Gavin’s nose when he grinned were more than enough to make this holiday a good one.

Gavin gently placed the dog back on the bed before setting the box down next to it. He pulled out something that looked like a dumbbell made of tennis balls and Dan realized what part two of Gavin’s gift to Dan was: toys for the puppy. Gavin gave the toy a hard squeeze and it gave a shrill squeak. The dog’s ears perk up, giving its undivided attention to the colorful toy in Gavin’s hands. Gavin kept squeezing the tennis bone as he casually talked to Dan.

“The guy at the pet store said his name’s Cupid, but I’m thinking about naming him Francisco.” The puppy had managed to get its mouth on the toy and was engaging in what had to be the most adorable game of tug of war Dan had ever seen. Gavin let go of the bone and watched the puppy tumble backwards across the sheets. He snorted.

Dan patted the spot next to him to get the puppy’s attention. It worked and, with a toy that was half its size and could barely fit in its mouth, the little ball of fur dragged his prize over to Dan’s side. Dan picked up the dog and the bone and put them both in his lap. He scratched behind the puppy’s ears while it went back to chewing on the toy. “Are you sure it’s a boy dog?” Dan asked over the intermittent squeaking.

Gavin didn’t look up from the box he had gone back to shuffling through. “A girl dog can be named Francisco too, so bugger off.”

“But Cupid’s a cute name too. Very festive.” Dan was grinning at Gavin, hoping to get a rise out of him so early in the morning. Gavin didn’t bat an eye.

“It’s dumb and so are you. Francisco is a lovely name.” Well so much for that plan. He said it with so much finality, like it was the end of the conversation, that Dan decided to just drop the topic altogether. There were more pressing concerns about this living, breathing gift anyway.

“I’m still not sure when you even got a dog, B.” Dan said with a sigh. He knew it was a lost cause at this point, a battle he had already lost despite not being there to actually exchange blows, but he had to try nonetheless. If only to save face and have the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ when the time arose. “Couldn’t you pick something that required a little less responsibility?”

Gavin looked up from the box this time, betrayal splashed across his features. “Oh piss off, I’m plenty responsible for a dog.” The way Gavin had taken immediate offense to Dan’s remark all but solidified his assumption that this was more of Gavin’s gift to himself than a gift to Dan. “Besides how hard can taking care of a puppy be?”

Irony was a funny thing, really. It would have been funnier if it hadn’t been Dan’s lap that had suffered as collateral. A warm and wet sensation began to seep through the sheets and it took Dan all of a second to process what was happening.

“You serious? Your dog’s pissin on me!”

Dan practically flipped the dog off of his lap and leapt from the bed. Gavin’s squealing laughter bounced off of the bedroom walls. “What are you laughing about?” Dan said. He pointed to the dark spot on the front of his pajama pants. “This is your responsibility, Gav. Take a good hard look at it.” He had been talking about the puppy piss and Gavin knew damn well that was what he meant, but that didn’t stop the little smart-ass from giving Dan’s crotch an appraising look.

“Oh I’m looking.” The sly grin Gavin gave him made Dan’s entire face go red.

He mumbled something about taking a shower before disappearing into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, when Dan exited the bathroom showered and clean, Gavin was wrestling a shirt from Cupid-Francisco’s teeth. Dan watched the struggle for a bit, deciding whether he should place bets on the winner or not. “How’s the responsibility going there?” He chimed in, nothing but satisfaction lacing his tongue.

Gavin’s head snapped up. He hadn’t known Dan was standing there. “Fine,” He lied, as though Dan couldn’t see the scuffle taking place in the middle of the floor right now. “Everything’s going fine. No need to worry or step in or anything.”

Dan shrugged, heading to the dresser to pull out his own clothes for the day. If Gavin wanted to save face, Dan would let him, puppy problems and all. Dan pulled a shirt over his head and the numbers on the clock on the nightstand caught his eye. “You sure you’re not going to be late to work, B?”

“Well, I won’t be once this smeggy little thing let’s go of my shirt, now will I?” Gavin shot back. Dan couldn’t tell if it was Gavin growling or the dog.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and watched the grand battle between man and beast for a while longer. “Does it really have to be that shirt?” It wasn’t like Gavin didn’t have a closet full of other shirts at the moment; they had just done laundry yesterday.

“It’s the principle of the matter, B.”

“Well the matter is that your shirt is now his, principle or not,” Dan said. “It’s better for us all if you come to terms with that now.”

Gavin let go of the shirt and rested back on his heels. He was crouched low to the ground, but that didn’t do anything to lessen the ferocity with which he stared Dan down. “Dan,” He said, knees hitting the floor with a thud, “Dan.” Dan rolled his eyes. It was as if Gavin had forgotten how to use his words altogether, choosing instead to parrot back the only name that mattered to him in that moment. Gavin kept staring at him in disbelief.  “Dan,” Gavin was full on whining now. He gestured at the dog feebly before letting his hands drop to his sides. “Help?”

Dan’s shoulders dropped and he made his way over to assist his boyfriend in the great battle against the beast that he himself had purchased. He had intended to help, he really did, he just neglected to pay attention to where he was walking. Out of all the available floor space, Dan stepped right on top of something squishy that squealed and slid out from beneath his foot. Dan only had a moment to curse stray doggie toys before toppling headlong into Gavin.

They both hit the floor with a thump and a grunt and Dan was pretty sure he was going to have something bruised come tomorrow morning. When Dan opened his eyes he was staring into Gavin’s impossibly bright eyes.

“Come here often?” Gavin giggled. Before Dan could get a word in edgewise, Gavin leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. Dan hummed his answer against his lips. Gavin giggled again. The kiss was slow and languid and nothing but early morning familiarity. Even when Dan parted his lips and let Gavin explore his mouth for what had to be the thousandth time, a humming energy ran through his fingers just like it was the first. Just as Gavin slipped a hand between them and expertly undid Dan’s pants, a bark pierced the air and shattered the mood.

Both men jumped. Gavin hit his head against the floor and Dan ignored his pained cursing to look at the dog sitting immediately to their left and wagging its tail. The dog barked again. Dan huffed.

“I suppose you should be getting off to work anyway,” He said, ignoring the pooling heat in his gut. They would continue later tonight. It was Valentine’s Day after all.

Dan and Cupid-Francisco waved Gavin off as he headed to work. Gavin had told Dan that his bike was still in the garage if he wanted to go anywhere. Once the car had disappeared down the street, Dan, with the help of one furry companion, found the bike amongst the clutter in the garage with a bright new basket attached the front of the handlebars. Dan wondered how long Gavin had been planning this gift of his.

“Well,” Dan put his hands on his hips and looked down at the dog, who was chewing the shoelaces of an abandoned pair of roller skates, “Looks like we’re going for a ride then.”

They rode further into the city, puppy in the wicker basket and Dan peddling across busy Austin streets. The weather was still chilly considering it was February, but being outside was good for Dan’s lingering jetlag. He may have been stateside for a few days now, but the flight always did a number on his mental health.

Dan walked the bike down the street and passed storefronts, having to stop ever few minutes to let people coo and pet Cupid-Francisco. He didn’t really mind. The dog was cute. It was only when they passed the fourth jewelry store that Dan started to get frustrated. He already had in mind what he wanted to give Gavin for Valentine’s Day. There was a pair of fuzzy handcuffs stuffed in the front pocket of his suitcase with his and Gavin’s name on them. But Dan felt like that wasn’t enough. Like he should do something more, something sweet and cliché for their first Valentine’s Day together as a couple.

Dan looked up and down the street to check for oncoming traffic before rolling his bike off the sidewalk. It still felt weird to realize that he and Gavin had almost been dating for a year now. It seemed like only a few weeks ago Gavin was drunkenly asking him out on a date. Dan had drunkenly agreed of course. Then they sobered up the next morning and had to have an actual conversation like big boys. Their romantic relationship was surprisingly similar to their platonic one, and for that Dan was happy. Everything had always come so easy when Gavin was involved. Everything except this gift, it seemed.

When Dan rolled past what appeared to be a farmer’s market, Cupid-Francisco barked, drawing Dan out of his thoughts. “What is it boy?” He asked the dog as if he would receive an actual answer. Cupid-Francisco barked again in lieu of vocal chords and a mastery of the English language. Dan looked at the market, all of the cute little stalls and food laid out in attractive displays. He was suddenly struck with an idea. A delightfully sappy and horribly romantic idea. “You’re bloody brilliant, pup.”

They finished their errands and returned back home before Gavin did, parking the bike in the garage and shuffling towards the kitchen. The dog scurried around Dan’s ankles and Dan almost tripped several times before placing the groceries on the counter. The house was weirdly quiet and Dan wondered if anyone else was home. “Well, pup,” Dan said seriously as he stared down at the dog playing with an empty plastic bag, “What should we do first?”

They took a nap. Dan woke up to a phone camera in his face and a familiar giggle that he absolutely adored. It wasn’t until he groaned and tried to swipe the camera out of his face that he realized that Cupid-Francisco had fallen asleep on his chest. Dan rubbed his eyes and asked for the time.

“It’s nearly six thirty.” Gavin answered as he tucked away his phone, satisfied with whatever cinematic shot he had captured. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves by the way. Geoff and Griffon are doing the whole fancy meal and a hotel thing. Want to order pizza or something?”

Dan sat up, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He handed the puppy off to Gavin and stood up with a stretch. “Don’t worry about dinner, Gav. I’ve got that taken care of.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes really! Jesus, don’t look at me like that.”

Gavin grinned and settled into the warm spot in the couch that Dan had left behind. Well now Dan had just been challenged, and he couldn’t very well back down from that. Turning up his nose in mock offense, he strode into the kitchen and went about preparing the most romantic dinner either of them had ever had.

About twenty minutes in, Dan was forced to shuffle back into the living room to ask where the skillet was only to be met with an adorable sight. Gavin was knocked out on the couch, arm hanging off the edge and the furry puppy curled up on his stomach. Dan could only smile softly at the scene. He pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture before going back to the mess he made in the kitchen to find that elusive skillet.

It was while he was washing the veggies that Dan felt something wet and cold against his leg. He looked down to see a certain brown furry handful tentatively observing his ankles. The dog gave him a lick and Dan jumped at the rough tongue. “Hey now, none of that.” He said with a chuckle.

There was a groan from the living room that meant that Gavin was awake. The groan was interrupted by a yelp and a thud as he then rolled off of the couch. The puppy ambled out of the kitchen to check on Dan’s klutz of a boyfriend. Dan followed the dog’s lead, leaving the water boiling and the meat sizzling on the stove to make sure Gavin was okay.

Gavin was face first on the floor. His legs were jutted out at odd angles and Dan had to bite down a laugh. “You alright there, B?”

Gavin didn’t answer.

Dan peered closer, worried that his boyfriend may have actually hurt himself. He repeated his question, a serious tone in his voice. Gavin’s shoulders were shaking but it wasn’t until he turned over onto his back that Dan could see that he was laughing. His signature squeaks broke through every once and again and there were tears in his eyes. Cupid-Francisco licked at his face and that only made Gavin laugh harder.

“How did you even manage that?” Dan asked, one part incredulous and two parts amused.

Gavin finally caught his breath, forming words around bouts of giggles that bubbled up now and again. “I don’t know! I forgot where I was I think. I was trying to roll over and…it didn’t work.”

Dan crouched down next to Gavin’s head and chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Gavin dissolved into laughter once again and Dan had to laugh along with him this time. Cupid-Francisco watched them with his tail fiercely wagging and barked at their laughter.

It wasn’t until Dan was pulling Gavin up off of the floor did either of them remember that Dan had been cooking. “Is something burning?” Gavin asked as he flared his nostrils.

Dan loudly cursed. He rushed to the kitchen only to be greeted by a great dark cloud of black smoke. The smoke detector wailed overhead. He hurriedly turned off the stove and shoved the skillet into the sink, flipping the handle to turn the water on. As he watched the sink fill up with murky water, he felt Gavin’s chest press against his back.

“My pizza offer still stands, Dan.”

Dan sighed.

By the time the pizza arrived, Dan and Gavin had aired out the smoke and cleaned up most of the mess. The skillet turned out to be unsalvageable and Dan felt awfully guilty about it. Gavin assured him it would be okay, suggesting that they buy a new one for the Ramseys tomorrow.

  They took their new, comparatively less-burned dinner to the studio, puppy in tow. The rest of the night was casual gaming and watching corny movies on Netflix.

“You know, I like this.” Gavin said when the sun was low beneath the horizon and their dishes were scattered across the coffee table. “A quiet Valentine’s like this. It’s nice.”

“A quiet – B, you bought a puppy and I nearly burned down a house.” Dan gestured to the sleeping dog under the table for emphasis.

Gavin smiled and tugged on the collar of Dan’s shirt. “But we spent it together without going out and doing anything big. It’s nice and low-key I think.”

If this was Gavin’s idea of a nice quiet Valentine’s Day, Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he considered a grand romantic gesture. Not that Dan had much time to worry about it. Gavin put his hands on either side of Dan’s face and dragged him down for a kiss, halting any complaints he had on his tongue in their tracks.

Dan leaned into the kiss, practically straddling Gavin on the small couch, and relished the heat of their bodies pressed together. He ran his tongue against Gavin’s bottom lip and waited for those perfect pink lips to part and let him in.

Gavin groaned but didn’t comply, choosing instead to tangle his fingers in Dan’s hair and trail kisses along his scruffy jawline. Dan grunted. It wasn’t what he wanted, exactly, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way it felt. Gavin’s touch, the heated, heavy touch the Dan had grown up relying on, always made his heart flutter. It wasn’t until Gavin moved his hands down and tried to pull up his shirt that Dan even remembered Gavin’s gift.

“Wait,” Dan’s voice was rough and Gavin’s hands stilled immediately.

“Alright?” Gavin looked up at Dan with worry clouding his eyes and Dan only felt slightly guilty for stopping their snogfest. Dan pushed himself off of Gavin and climbed off the couch.

“There’s a part two to your present. Less fire and brimstone, this one.” He extended a hand to Gavin, whose lips were slightly red and puffy, and he smiled. “Promise.”

Gavin only giggled as he accepted Dan’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled off the couch. Sometimes Dan forgot how light Gavin was; he yanked a little too hard, tugging an armful of his dusty haired boyfriend into his chest. Gavin didn’t seem to mind, giggling again and leaning up to kiss Dan once more.

God, Dan was a sucker for this boy. His knees still got shaky just from his touch alone, and when Gavin playfully bit at his bottom lip, Dan had half a mind to forgo the handcuffs altogether and just bang on the low coffee table right there. But Gavin pulled away and gave Dan a half lidded look with the smuggest smirk Dan could have possibly chosen to fall for. “Lead the way then,” Gavin said.

Dan quickly pecked Gavin’s nose before heading for the bedroom. He didn’t get very far before Gavin slapped his ass with a shrill laugh and scurried past him. Dan bit back a yelp and gave chase.

The race was a short one, especially when the bedroom was only a few steps away. Dan tackled Gavin anyway and the two of them fell onto the bed in a fit of laughter and sloppily placed kisses. Once Dan had gotten Gavin to roll onto his back and gave him one last kiss on the mouth, he got off the bed and moved to his suitcase that had been shoved into the closet upon his initial arrival a few days ago.

“So what’s part two?” Gavin asked from the bed. Dan wasn’t sure if Gavin’s voice was muffled due to his position in the closet or because Gavin was pulling his shirt over his head, but he didn’t get a chance to answer all the same as Gavin continued his interrogation. “Strip tease? Lacy underwear? Stockings?” There was an exaggerated gasp as Gavin was struck with what he considered an amazing idea. “Are you going to fuck me while wearing a gas mask, B? My belt’s in there somewhere I think.”

Dan had finally managed to fish the handcuffs from the front pocket of his suitcase. He laughed at Gavin’s last suggestion. Gavin had shown an interest in various kinks over their few months of dating and, while Dan hadn’t explicitly been against any of his suggestions so far, they had settled on taking things slow for now. Dan wasn’t quite ready to indulge his boyfriend’s morbid curiosity with asphyxiation just yet. 

“Let’s start with something easy first, B.” Dan said as he stepped out of the closet, handcuffs in hand. Gavin was lying on the bed, his shirt and pants thrown on the floor. His boxer briefs were decorated with red and pink hearts. Dan hooked his thumbs in each cuff and tugged them apart so that the chain snapped taught with a satisfying clink. He smirked and lowered his voice to an octave that he knew made Gavin squirm. “Baby steps, remember?”

There was a hungry glint in Gavin’s eyes that Dan had never seen before and his dick twitched against his jeans. The handcuffs – fuzzy, pink, and silly – were suddenly heavy and cold in his grasp. He tossed them to Gavin, who fumbled them for a moment, and pulled his shirt over his head. “You top,” Dan said as he dropped his shirt on the floor and worked on taking off his pants.

The sound Gavin made was something between adorable and arousing and Dan was still having a hard time deciding which one was preferable when he felt a pair of arms loop around his neck. Gavin pulled him into a fierce kiss, pressing their bodies together so that Dan’s hands were trapped between them, fingers still on the button of his pants. He was dragged onto the bed, Gavin’s tongue exploring his mouth, and somehow he ended up on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Dan would have protested but Gavin was grinding their hardening erections together and sucking an impressive hickey on the sensitive spot along his throat. His eyes fluttered shut. He relished the feeling of Gavin’s touch all over, rolling his hips up as Gavin playfully nipped at his neck. Dan liked when Gavin topped, when he took control and did all the leading. There was something about relinquishing everything to his best friend, that lanky kid he had met in high school years ago, that was unbelievably satisfying. Dan topped his fair share of times too, but at times like this, with Gavin above him and on him and muttering hushed words against his reddening skin, he was nothing but amenable.

When Gavin pulled away, Dan whined at the sudden lack of contact. He felt the bed shift and his arms where being raised over his head. Dan opened his eyes and craned his neck to look up at the headboard in time to see one of his wrists being locked in a cuff. The metal locked with a click. Gavin looked down at him, his brows furrowed. “You alright?”

It was sweet of him to worry. Dan nodded and flexed his fingers to show that he was okay. His wrist strained against the constraints and a delicious anxiousness fluttered in his stomach. “I’m peachy, Gav.” Gavin smile softly and ducked down for a kiss. The kiss was as soft as his smile but Dan used his free hand to grab the back of Gavin’s neck and turn it into something fiery. When they pulled away, Dan’s dick was straining against his pants he hadn’t had a chance to take off. Gavin’s hair was wild and Dan knew he didn’t look much better. “Well go on. Get on with it then.”

Gavin ran the handcuff chain through the slats in the headboard before locking up Dan’s other hand. He surveyed his work, tilting his head to the left and right. He must have concluded that it looked about right and everything was in working order because he shot Dan a cheeky smile.

Dan experimentally yanked at the restraints once, twice. Surprisingly enough, they held fast and true. He exhaled hotly. The metal dug into his wrists. “You gonna have you’re way with me, B?”

Gavin decided to forgo words altogether. He answered Dan’s question by straddling him and giving him a kiss that was all tongue. Dan didn’t have a chance to really enjoy the kiss because Gavin’s lips soon left his and trailed down to his chest. Gavin took one of the dark nipples in his mouth and worked the sensitive nub with his tongue as his hands fumbled with the zipper of Dan’s pants. When Gavin lightly grazed his teeth against his nipple, Dan bucked his hips up and groaned. He wanted to knot his fingers in Gavin’s hair, tug him back up to his mouth for another kiss, but the handcuffs stubbornly refused to budge and the headboard rattled against the wall.

The nipple was left forgotten as Gavin began kissing along Dan’s treasure trail down down down until he reached the hem of Dan’s jeans. He shifted to pull off the pants and tossed them somewhere across the room.

Gavin palmed the bulge in Dan’s briefs, leaning up to kiss him again. It was less kissing and more of just sloppy acceptance on Dan’s part, who was too hard to think straight. He rolled his hips up, trying to feel more of Gavin’s heated touch, and when Gavin ground the heel of his hand down, Dan could only wantonly moan.

Gavin slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Dan’s underwear and fished out his cock. He placed a gentle kiss to Dan’s quivering dick before leaning back and pulling down his briefs to free his own dick. Dan’s vision may have been blurry and he may have been dizzy with arousal, but he loved watching Gavin slowly pump himself until he was fully erect.

The way Gavin took his bottom lip between his teeth to keep down his moans. The look of sheer concentration that crossed his face as he stroked up and down and up time and time again. The reddening head of his dick as it leaked clear precum.

Through half-lidded eyes, Dan could see his own dick twitching in the cool air, tip shining with precum, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to touch himself. He wanted to reach between his legs and grip his aching cock in one hand, but those damn cuffs around his wrists bit into his flesh and Dan was forced to watch Gavin jerk off mere centimeters away.

Dan made a noise, something between a groan and a whine, and Gavin’s eyes shot up to look at him. His expression was one of worry – as worried as someone so aroused could look at least – and Dan was only partially sorry when he realized Gavin thought that he might be in pain from the handcuffs. Which Dan was, but it was a good, aching pain that was driving him towards the edge.

“Fuck,” Dan’s voice was thick with lust and his breathing was heavy, “Fuck me already, Gav.” His head lolled to one side and he made his best pouty face. “Fuck me or touch me or something.”

Gavin looked at Dan. Like, actually looked at all of him. He let his eyes wander up and down Dan’s body laid prone before him and Dan felt oddly exposed lying there. The look in Gavin’s eyes screamed hunger. He walked his fingers up Dan’s chest before pressing his index finger to his lips. “Yeah yeah,” He spared a second to pull the lube out of the top drawer of the nightstand, “Keep your bloody pants on.” Gavin giggled at his own joke and tugged Dan’s underwear off.

Dan would’ve sighed given another situation, but for now he was just glad that they were getting somewhere. Gavin squirted a liberal amount of lube on his fingers and hooked one of Dan’s legs over his shoulder. The handcuffs scraped against the slatted headboard. Gavin pressed a slick finger to Dan’s asshole and Dan inhaled sharply. That shit was cold.

Gavin leisurely circled Dan’s puckered entrance, placing kisses against his inner thigh, until he slid in one well-lubed finger. Dan let his eyes flutter shut and rolled his head to the side. He focused on the feeling of Gavin inside him and adjusted as Gavin continued to slide in and out. He took the second finger nearly as easily, but it wasn’t until the third that Dan moaned. Gavin took that as an affirmative and increased his pace until the bed shook, headboard hitting the wall and chilled metal digging into Dan’s skin.

It was like something had come undone somewhere within Dan because he couldn’t shut up after that. Every time the bed hit the wall with a heavy thump and Gavin’s fingers buried into him, Dan would cry out. It was a loud, repetitive rhythm and Dan was glad that they had the place to themselves, but he was pretty sure the neighbors could hear them.

Then Gavin’s fingers pulled out one last time and everything got eerily quiet. Dan lay there, waiting for Gavin to roll on a condom – that had to be what he was doing because Dan was more than ready – and catching his breath.

When he felt the head of Gavin’s dick pressed against his entrance, Dan flexed his hands again, clenching and unclenching his fingers to test the restraints. Gavin paused. “Ready?” Dan nodded and gave him a shaky smile, wrapping his leg’s around Gavin’s waist.

Gavin’s hands gripped red imprints into Dan’s hips as he eased in. Dan took him in fairly easily and it wasn’t long before Gavin bottomed out and was pulling out again. When Gavin slammed back into him, Dan bucked up with a groan and the headboard creaked loudly before banging against the wall. Gavin pulled out agonizingly slowly and thrust in once more. Another moan erupted from Dan, all chesty and deep and laced with pleasure, when suddenly he felt Gavin’s fingers shoved in his mouth. Dan tried to moan around them, but Gavin pounded into him and Dan’s vision went white hot, voice caught in his throat.

Gavin increased the pace. He thrust in and out of Dan at a steady rhythm, bed rocking into the wall and Dan gasping strangled moans around spit-slicked fingers. When Gavin wrapped a hand around Dan’s dick, he nearly cried at the touch. He was burning up all over and couldn’t figure out which sensation to focus on.

The handcuffs bit angry welts into his wrists. Gavin messily pumped the length of his cock. His fingers slid to the back of Dan’s throat, nearly making him choke. His dick pressed against Dan’s prostate and set off fireworks behind his eyelids.

Dan was so close to coming. So close to spilling over and losing himself completely at the mercy of his boyfriend. He could only vaguely hear Gavin’s stuttered breathing over his own moans and he knew he was just as close to finishing as Dan was. 

Gavin’s fingers left Dan’s mouth. His hand was wet when he gripped Dan’s hip. Gavin’s thrusts were becoming more erratic and he tried to angle himself just right. He found that sweet spot, pounding into Dan with a renewed sort of vigor as incoherent babble fell from Dan’s lips. Dan’s toes curled and his dick twitched. He threw back his head and yanked at the handcuffs, nearly ripping the headboard right off the bedframe.

A shrill squeal sliced through the air.

Dan and Gavin both stopped. They stopped moving, they stopped moaning, and they nearly stopped breathing. They looked at each other. Dan wondered if his face was as flushed as Gavin’s, but he momentarily pushed that thought aside. He spoke up. His voice was raspy. “The fuck was that?”

Gavin shrugged. He looked wildly confused and his hair was stuck to his sweaty neck and face. “Hell if I know.”

And they would have gone back to fucking, they really would have, but when Gavin shifted to get back in that sweet spot that he knew made Dan fall apart, the squeal sounded off again and Gavin frowned. He shifted his weight to and fro, still frowning, before shoving his hand among the covers. When he pulled a colorful squeaky toy from the depths of the sheets, he just started giggling and the mood was officially ruined.

It was less giggling than it was breathless squeaking and Dan’s heart fluttered. The way Gavin looked, cheeks flushed, forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat, eyes crinkled at the edges with laughter, was so undeniably adorable. Dan chuckled. This only further spurred Gavin’s giggling and he buried his face in Dan’s chest, his body racking with laughter. 

Gavin slid out of Dan and collapsed in the empty space next to him, a soft bout of giggles bubbling up again. They lay there laughing for a while longer. “Sorry,” Gavin said, looking over at Dan. His eyes were bright and glassy and Dan didn’t really think an apology was in order. “Sorry this Valentine’s Day was a bust.”

Dan would have shrugged but he was still handcuffed to the bed. “I spent it with you, Gav. Not much else I need on Valentine’s to be honest.” And he was being honest. Just being able to look at his boyfriend without a computer screen between them, to be able to reach out and brush hair out of his face on lazy mornings and kiss him between rounds of playing video games was good enough for Dan. “If you could uncuff me though, that’d be great.”

Gavin looked a bit sheepish. He had forgotten Dan was still handcuffed. Dan sighed with a lopsided smile. Typical.

Once Gavin had fished the key out of the suitcase in the closet and freed Dan from the headboard, Dan sat up and rubbed his sore wrists. He winced a bit at the contact. He wondered how long the soreness would last.

Dan felt a cool touch to his wrist and nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up into the worried eyes of Gavin, who had grabbed a cold washcloth from the bathroom. Dan smiled and kissed Gavin’s forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gav. Surprise puppies and burnt dinners and all.” Dan said. His lips were still pressed to Gavin’s face and his words were a bit muffled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, B.”

February 14th was one of those holidays that was clearly drenched in commercialism. Everything was pink and white and red and flashing dollar signs, but that didn’t take the romance out of it. Not even setting the stove on fire or waking up to a new responsibility could take away the content feeling that filled Dan from head to toe. The sense of pure elation that flowed through him by just sitting on the bed with the one man he loved more than anything.

All Dan had wanted today was to have a nice, memorable Valentine’s Day with his boyfriend. Canine capers and food fiascos were memorable, sure, but that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he woke up that morning. Today may have been a chaotic mess, but at the end of it all, Dan Gruchy was absolutely in love with Gavin Free.