#electricskelly

Geoff beamed, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Nearly,” he said softly, and he reached forward to tilt the black graduation cap on Awsten’s head a few inches to the right. “There. Now it is positioned properly.” 

“Thanks. Um, do you have everything?” 

Geoff nodded. 

“Okay, cool. We should go soon.” 

Mrow! 

Awsten looked over at Tuna and half-yelled, “HEY, look at my outfit! Do you know what it means?” 

“I cannot imagine that she does,” Geoff replied on her behalf. 

“It means I’m graduating from college!” 

Geoff smiled again, and his heart softened in his chest. “Awsten,” he said softly. 

“I’m graaaaduating!” Awsten continued, ignoring him and spinning in a circle for Tuna, which made his robe puff out. “I passed all my fucking math classes, so now I get to wear this dress and this stupid hat!” 

“Awsten,” Geoff repeated, and Awsten did turn to him that time. 

“I am... quite proud of you.” 

“I know,” Awsten told him easily. 

Geoff closed the distance between them and set his palms on Awsten’s cheeks. “You have worked very hard for an incredible length of time. And I will repeat myself, because I would like for you to know. I am extremely proud of you.” It was one of those moments that Geoff wasn’t sure whether Awsten would jokingly brush off or let himself feel, so he was relieved when Awsten smiled up at him. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Dad.” 

Yes, you could have, Geoff wanted to insist, but instead, he just leaned down a bit to kiss Awsten’s forehead. 

Awsten reached forward and hugged him around the stomach. “Thank you for everything. All of it, all the way back to your class my senior year.” 

“You are very welcome,” Geoff whispered, willing himself not to cry. 

“I love you.” 

“And I you.” 

Awsten stood back up and gave him a loving smile, but then he turned back to Tuna. “And I love you, too! We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave, though, so we’re gonna go now. I’ll see you later!” Awsten galloped across the kitchen and over to the door that led to the garage. He grabbed Geoff’s keys off of the hook and threw them at him. (Geoff flinched but managed to catch them.) “Let’s go!”

Maddie snaps out of her slump to express her surprise at seeing you there. You say hey and mean it when you tell her that you hope she’s been well. 

Who’s this? 

Mi vida, you want to reply (it’s Spanish, not Portuguese, but it’s the most accurate expression of how you feel about him. You only use it inside your mind), but you just utter his name instead. One syllable. Your life. 

They exchange short, slightly awkward greetings, and then you take him by the wrist and gently pull him toward the mountain of oversized cups. He takes one off the top, wanders away, and starts filling it with yogurt from the machine that you know runs like a turtle. You walk up behind him and lean forward, lining up your hips behind his, pressing your torso against his. Your arms wind around his stomach. You rest your forehead against his long hair and quietly hum along with the tinny pop music playing overhead. 

You can feel Maddie staring, but you don’t care. You’re practically feverish with the way you feel, finally getting to claim him after all these fucking months. 

He may be outwardly ignoring you, but he doesn’t push you off, doesn’t mutter to you to let go. He lets you hold him, lets you lean on him, lets you embrace him, lets you lay your head on the back of his shoulder. He turns his head just the slightest bit and makes a soft kissing sound. (Beijo, your mind fills in automatically. You smile to yourself; he’s a good teacher. Impatient and snappy, yes, but still good.) 

You could fall asleep here in the freezing air, leaning on his red t-shirt. 

This goddamn thing is so goddamn slow, he complains under his breath. 

I love you, you whisper in your mind. I know, you say instead, it always has been. But it’ll be worth it. (You have no idea which flavor he’s getting.) You let go of him with one hand to brush his hair off of his neck. Then you replace your hand, squeeze him tighter, and press a kiss to the skin you’ve just cleared. If you pull your lips in to lick the salt off of them, he doesn’t need to know. 

You tell him to make sure to get rainbow sprinkles for you, pass him your debit card, and excuse yourself to the Employees Only bathroom where you stand in front of the mirror and breathe slowly, willing your slight erection down. You two can fool around when you get back to his place, you remind yourself, but that just makes it worse. Fuck. 

Dead kittens, dead kittens, you murmur aloud, but the effect is as sluggish as the old yogurt machine beyond the door. You imagine your dad dead instead, and that’s much faster. You wash your hands even though you didn’t actually touch your dick at all, and then you head out to find him with a colorful masterpiece overflowing with fruit and candy. 

Did you want some yogurt with all those toppings? you tease as you drop into the chair adjacent to his, both of your backs pointed toward the counter. The legs of the chair scrape against the floor just the way you remember as you drag it up to the table. Closer to him. Every inch matters, and you want to be as close as you can get. Soon, you’ll be inside him again. Interest reignites between your legs, but you force it away; right now, you’re on a date, and you have to be on your best behavior. Or - well, better behavior than this, at least. 

He rolls his eyes at your stupid joke, and you pluck the pink spoon out of his hand and shove vanilla bean slathered in Hershey’s syrup right into your mouth. He makes a soundless exclamation and then says something, beautifully annoyed, in rapid Portuguese. You lean forward to catch his lips with your own. He kisses back for a few seconds and then pulls back, grinning. 

He picks up the green spoon, dunks it into the bowl, and slides it into his mouth. He looks at you then, smirking around it, froyo still melting on his tongue. A drop drips out... White. And he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing. Then he has the nerve to slowly lick it off of his lips.