#gideon lads

“Yeah..” you let out another yawn unconsciously, as if the mere mention of fatigue made your own worse.

“You sure you can stay after school and help around?” He steps closer, already lifting your bag for you. “Don’t push yourself just because others need you. Take some time for yourself.”

You let out a huff as you push your chair back against your desk. “I’ll be fine, sitting for an hour and listening to history lessons is the real reason I’m tired. I’ll be full of energy once I’ll actually be walking around on my feet and talking with friends.” you give him a reassuring smile. “Besides, the festival’s only in a little over a week, this is no time to be lazing around.”

He lets out a small sigh at your determination, and shakes his head. “If you say so,” he starts walking towards the door, and you follow after him.

As the two of you walk down the hall and towards the stairs, he hands you your bag, and you sling it over your shoulder.

You go down the stairs, and walk down the hallway, approaching the main door. Pausing, you turn to Caleb. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You smiled, adjusting your bag’s strap on your shoulder. 

His eyes widened for a moment, as if he forgot this is where you two parted ways. He quickly recovers with a mocking hand resting on his heart, like he had been wounded. “So eager to get rid of me, huh?” He lets out a huff, and pretends to wince. 

Your own eyes open up in slight shock, but your eyebrows quickly furrow. “What? No! I just meant—“ you stutter, pink tinting your cheeks. “Mc’s waiting for you, no?”

You watch the way his smile slowly fades, leaving behind pursed lips. “No, she already went home.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his response, confused on why she’d go home without him when it was routine for them. 

“Oh, I thought you two would walk home like usual.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, still looking away from you. 

You clear your throat as if it could help make the situation less awkward. 

“Well… they’ve probably already started setting up,” the corners of your lips tilt nervously. “I’d better go join them.” you walk off.

“Wait,” he reaches for your hand, and you turn to face him. 

“Yes?”

“I–” he starts, but one of your fellow council members interrupts him, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

“Y/N, finally–” she starts, but grows quiet once she notices the basketball team’s captain by your side. Her gaze trails down to your connected hands.

You quickly snatch your hand away and take a couple steps back to create distance between the two of you. You don’t miss Caleb’s slight groan of disappointment—or annoyance—only audible to you.

“Oh, Caleb!” she chirps, a smile breaking out on her face. She then looks back at you. “Did you bring him here to help?”

Your eyebrows quirk, clearly taken-aback by her assumption. “What–”

“That’s perfect, actually. We could use an extra pair of hands. Especially strong ones.” you almost choke on your spit at her last comment. “You can lift heavy things right Caleb?” She looks at him.

He smiles back at her. “I’d be happy to help.”

The shock on your face only deepens as you look at him. 

“Okay great then! Come on you two, there’s a lot to do.” She spins on her heels and walks down the hallway.

The two of you are left standing alone in the midst of it. 

“Why’d you say yes?” you ask him incredulously.

“Why not? She said you guys needed some help. And I’m happy to be of service.” he shrugs, feigning innocence. He follows the girl. “Come on, I thought you said this was no time to be lazing around?” he gives you a glance over his shoulder, his lips adorned with a teasing grin.

Typical Caleb, always ready to help and wow everyone, you thought to yourself.

You sigh, unsure of his real reason for staying but continue walking as well.

“Like this?”

“Yep, just like that!” you hear giggling behind you.

Caleb seemed to be getting along very well with all of the student council members, just like you’d expected. Currently, he and the girl who had called you over to help were hanging up banners all throughout the hallway’s ceiling. His 6’2 frame proving to be quite useful for the task.

You tried your best to focus on your own task, hanging up lanterns, but their loud banter kept distracting you. The constant effort you had to make to stay focused annoying you. They were being quite loud. Or rather, you were just jealous. You groaned quietly to yourself, trying to push down the ugly sentiment.

You were used to it afterall. Not really. Having a crush on Mr. Popular was not for the weak as you were being tested everyday. But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t owe you anything. You two were just friends.

Just friends, you repeated, trying to calm yourself and return to your senses by stubbornly reaffirming the boundary firmly wedged between the two of you. He just sees me as a friend and that’s it. Don’t get it twisted.

Little did you know, while you quietly grumbled to yourself and absentmindedly hung up the lanterns, Caleb stared at you across the room, trying to find a way to ditch his task and instead help you with yours. Even while nodding along and replying with mindless “uh-huh”’s and “yeah”’s, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out what could possibly be making you pout in such a cute way. 

He pauses. 

‘Pout in such a cute way’? Since when did he—

“Are you listening?” he hears beside him, and glances down to look at the girl, caught off guard. “I said I was going to go get more banners, okay?”

He nods with an awkward smile and lets her go, his gaze instinctively returning to you.

But you were already staring at him. The two of you make eye contact for a very brief moment before you both look away, flustered out of your minds. You immediately grab a nearby lantern and turn your back to him, trying to look busy. 

You just had to go ahead and get caught again, didn’t you? It wasn’t always like this, however. 

Ever since you realized and accepted your true feelings toward Caleb, you had made a pact with yourself to not let them be shown or known. You’ve never really had an issue with it— concealing your feelings that is. You knew just how long you could stare before getting caught, how close you could stand next to him without imposing, how much you could smile or laugh, or how long you could hang out one-on-one with him.

But ever since Caleb and Mc’s fight at the coffee shop a couple weeks ago, you’ve gotten sloppier at the one thing you shouldn’t be getting sloppy at. You found yourself staring a second or two too long, leaning in too close, rendered unable to contain your bright smile at his jokes or his mere presence. 

You didn’t exactly know why you were slipping up like this, though you did have a theory. Seeing him grow so distant from Mc, coupled with those ridiculously heart-fluttering moments you shared with him right after their disagreement that night had definitely gotten to your head. And you tried your best not to become deluded into thinking you maybe had a chance, but it was so hard when your intrusive thoughts were so stubborn.

Besides, it wasn’t a hundred percent your fault. You weren’t the only one acting weird. 

Caleb seemed to seek you out more often, calling and texting you more regularly, finding excuses to stay by your side, even if it was just for five more minutes. You could only assume it was because his fight with Mc was a bigger deal than they were both letting on, and that he needed a distraction, a placeholder. You. 

And as much as you were all for helping a friend through a rough patch (even at your own expense), you could already see the irreparable damage he was causing you. 

Your mind knew the reality of the situation. He very obviously loves her, and they’re currently on bad terms. Seeing how he spent so much time with her, it was only natural she’d leave behind a void. A void for you to fill. 

But your heart insisted on its own version of the story. A version where you maybe had a chance with the boy you’d been pining over for months now. A version where he wasn’t just using you as a replacement. A version where you aren’t the temporary replacement he settled for. Where he truly had moved on from her, and instead chose you. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case. And that it never would be. 

Eventually, they’d make up, and things would go back to the way they were. The two of them would become inseparable again and sickeningly sweet together. And you’d be left behind, like a discarded chewed-up dog toy that lost its purpose. 

You hung up the last lantern carefully, not realizing you had already set up a couple of them during your mental turmoil. 

As you step down and off the stool, you stop for a moment to resume your thinking. 

It was up to you now. 

Will you remain the same you’ve always been, a people-pleaser through and through who’d rather suffer alone for the sake of the people she cares about? 

Or will you choose yourself for once? Put yourself first? Instead of waiting for someone to do it. 

After a deep and tired breath, you finally decide. 

You refuse to let yourself be a second option to anybody, no matter who that person may be. 

It was getting fairly late, and you had all made significant progress in the preparations, so it was time to go home now.

Of course, he insisted on walking you home.

Usually you’d be ecstatic at the opportunity of spending more time with him, but right now, your mind keeps circling back to your earlier thoughts. 

You had let yourself be naive and foolish for too long, and it was time you snapped out of it. You couldn’t just let him use you as a replacement and get away with it. 

But you weren’t sure exactly what you were supposed to do– should you distance yourself from him, confront him about it, or just… stop being friends?

As much as you wanted to do a 180 and finally be independent and stand up for yourself overnight, you weren’t sure you were ready to go that far just yet. So, you settled for the easiest solution: avoidance.

“I told you you should’ve just gone home, you look exhausted.” he sighs next to you.

You hum in response.

Of course, Caleb knew you. Too well, perhaps. So he had immediately picked up on your short and dismissive responses since the beginning of your conversation.

But seeing how tired you looked, he couldn’t bring himself to comment on it or push for answers. Besides, you were probably only being dry because you had a long day… right?

It took all his effort to not stop you in your tracks and ask “You okay?” He was worried about you afterall, even if it was seemingly just you having a tiring day. Small or big, all your issues were reason enough for him to fret and worry about you. He couldn’t help it.

Obviously getting the memo that you weren’t in the mood for talking, he stayed quiet until he dropped you off at your house.

“See you tomorrow?” he smiled softly and waved.

Already walking through your driveway, you didn’t bother turning around to return his smile or wave, instead muttering a small “Yeah.” you weren’t even sure he heard. But truth be told, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Seeing the cold shoulder you gave him, Caleb’s expression faltered into a small frown. 

Had he done something to upset you? Was he speaking too much? Was he too clingy for staying after school with you, and then walking you home on top of that?

He turned on his heels, walking off, and ignoring the pit forming in his stomach.

Things remained the same for the following week.

And Caleb felt like he was losing it.

You were avoiding him every chance you could get.

You always ran off to your other friends for lunchtime, you stopped asking his help for homework, you wouldn’t look for him during your breaks, you wouldn’t even walk home with him since you were staying late after school everyday to prepare for the festival. You always took at least a day to reply to his texts, only for him to end up being met with curt one-word responses, or you simply liking his message. You didn’t return his calls, didn’t text him first, didn’t even look his way.

At first, he tried to rationalize. This was the last week before the festival so you were clearly busy and overworked. But after the first two days he couldn’t just pretend everything was fine. It clearly wasn’t. 

Caleb had done something to make you mad at him, and he didn’t know what. It was driving him crazy. 

The urge to just find you, back you into a corner, and confront you was strong. It was in his nature to communicate and be lucid with others– most of the time, at least.

But every time he thought of going up to you and demanding answers, his mind would immediately go back to his dispute with Mc, and he’d remember how bad it went.

The last thing Caleb wanted was to scare you off, or worse– make you hate him. He couldn’t live with himself if you did.

So as much as it pained him, he let you distance yourself from him slowly but surely, watching you from afar, and waiting for you to eventually come up to him and talk like nothing had ever happened. 

Was he being too wishful in his thinking? Would you two ever go back to normal? Was this only a rough patch you’d eventually overcome, or was this the beginning of the end for you both?

Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran a hand down his face. He really needed to stop being so dramatic. 

“What’s got you in the dumps?” he hears a deep voice come up behind him. 

Tilting his head back, Caleb peeks through his large fingers, only to be met with one of Gideon’s signature grins.

“Nothing, just thinking.” he mumbles in reply, leaning forward and resting his elbow against the surface of his desk.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately, haven’t you? Careful, you might actually develop more than one brain cell at this rate.” he teases, eyes half-lidded and mocking.

Caleb shoots him a deadly glare, before pushing the palm of his hand against his friend’s face and ruffling his hair. “Shut up.” he groans. Silence falls for a second. “What’re you even doing here? You’re not even in our class.” 

“Can’t I come visit my friend during our break? Who else are you gonna talk to if not me?” He grabs the chair of the desk in front of Caleb, and sits on it with a light thud.

At this, Caleb’s eyes widened slightly. Did the break already start? Since when? He hadn’t even noticed. He was too busy thinking of you.

Where were you anyway?

His eyes snapped to your desk at the back of the class. Familiar disappointment crawled up his spine as he saw it to be empty.

This kept happening. You’d run off before he could even catch a glance at you.

Gideon quirks an eyebrow, following his friend’s gaze. “Oh, she went to the bathroom.”

Caleb’s head whips back around to face his friend. “How would you know?”

“I ran into her on the way here…?” his eyebrows only raise further, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Forget what I said about you potentially getting smarter— something’s messing with your head.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he rolls his eyes before glancing back at the window. 

A beat of silence.

“... Is this about Mc?”

Caleb freezes. Mc? Why would he think this had anything to do with Mc?

“I’m right, aren’t I? Man I knew it. You know I didn’t buy it when you said you guys made up, right?” The smirk on his face deepens. When he sees his friend still deep in thought, he sighs before speaking up. “Relax, I’m sure things will go back to normal. I don’t think there exists a reality where you and Mc aren’t happy together.” he teases, even though he means it.

Is that really how he saw it? How other people saw it? Caleb and Mc, two peas in a pod, inseparable, bound by some absurd concept like fate– or soulmates.

He couldn’t accept it. Caleb couldn’t let his fate be decided for him. 

He didn’t know what had changed. 

A couple of months ago, he might’ve agreed with Gideon, nudged him while blush crept up his face at the thought of him and Mc being fated together, no matter what universe or timeline. 

But now? Now he couldn’t help but feel like it was wrong. Like maybe she wasn’t the one for him, and him not the one for her.

Gideon was right about one thing though. Something was messing with his head. But it wasn’t Mc. It was you.

And that was the first time Caleb had ever admitted it to himself: it wasn’t her, it was you. 

Maybe it hadn’t always been you, maybe it was her at first, but somewhere along the way, something changed. And he wasn’t sure he could go back now, even if he wanted to. 

Because things were different with you. He didn’t always have to prove himself to you, to convince you he was worthy of your time and attention. He didn’t have bickering chats with you that would leave him secretly hurt and doubtful afterwards. He didn’t have to navigate through mixed signals. He wasn’t constantly being pushed away, rejected, and called overbearing or clingy.

No, with you, he could just be. With you, he wasn’t constantly in some sort of fight or flight mode. Over-performing with one too many jokes or acts of service, always aiming to please everyone around him. In your presence, he could just be Caleb. He didn’t have to be the perfect childhood friend and older brother figure, he didn’t have to be the basketball team’s captain and ace, he didn’t have to be the straight A student, he didn’t have to be Mr. Popular. He could just be Caleb. Because you allowed him to.

But it was more than that now. Now, it wasn’t just about what you unknowingly did for him, it was also about you as a person.

You were so wildly different from Mc, and maybe that’s why his feelings changed. 

Sure, maybe he had wanted Mc at some point, but after meeting you? After getting to know you over the course of the past six months? He couldn’t– no, wouldn’t go back.

The hope blooming into his chest from this sudden epiphany gradually fades however, as he remembered the current state of things.

Had he realized his feelings too late? 

Maybe it truly was over before it even began. 

“Alright well, I hate to leave you sulking all by yourself but I should probably head back.” Gideon huffs out as he stands from the chair. “Don’t think too hard about it. Just go with whatever feels right.” He pats his shoulder and walks out the classroom.

As he crosses the doorframe, Gideon bumps into you, apologizing. You do the same and shoot him a small smile which he returns. 

At the sound of your voice, Caleb’s gaze flies towards the two of you. He watches you both interact. 

Excusing yourself, you walk back to your desk.

Caleb’s eyes follow your form as you make your way to your place and sit down. The way you seemed so composed as you gathered your notebook and textbook, carefully opening them to the right page while you reached for a pen almost had him mesmerized. Forget almost, he was mesmerized. 

Fuck. Was she always this pretty?

It’s not like he didn’t think you were attractive– on the contrary, he had pushed back way too many unsafe thoughts at the sight of you sometimes. Convinced it was wrong of him to think of you in that way since you were just friends. 

But this time, he could both hear and feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. 

He quickly looked away to keep his eyes trained on his own book. It seemed that finally admitting his feelings had just made things a whole lot harder for him.

At last, today was your school’s lunar new year festival. 

You and all the other council members had worked your asses off for this, and it clearly paid off. The hallways were adorned in red and golden decorations. Lanterns, banners made of paper-cutting art, and zodiac decor. The courtyard surrounding the school building was also intricately decorated. Stands forming pathways for the students and teachers to walk through, more paper lanterns hanging from the trees, confetti spread everywhere on the concrete ground. 

The red and gold color scheme coupled with the evening’s soft glow, and the people’s chatter and laughter made for a beautifully warm and inviting atmosphere. 

You were currently waiting in line with a couple friends of yours to get some tanghulu. Out of all the stands you knew were going to be displayed, this one was of course the one you had been the most excited for.

Among the other stalls, they had one for buying flowers, another for lanterns, a larger tent with seating for papercutting crafts, as well as more snack stands. 

“You guys did a great job this year, this is better than last year’s festival.” your friend commented.

The others nodded in agreement, leaving you with a smile. “Everyone on the council was really nice and dedicated, that’s probably why.” you shrug as you pull out your coin pouch, noticing it would soon be your turn in line.

You all chat for a little bit longer, before you can finally buy your long-awaited tanghulu. 

Your friends each take turns ordering, and you do the same. Once you all receive your skewers, you argue with your friends and manage to convince them to let you pay for everyone’s food. They rave on and on about you being the “best”, making you roll your eyes in response.

But before you can actually hand the money over, a hand blocks you. He pays for the food and smiles at the person on the other side of the stall, who happily takes the money and motions for the next person in line to come forward.

With a hand on your shoulder, he guides you to step away. 

You look up to see the guy and recognize one of your council members. The two of you worked together often for the last two weeks to prepare for the festival.

“Why did you…” you start but trail off.

He grins in response. “Don’t worry about it too much. Just accept it.” he shrugs.

“Oh… okay then. Thanks.” you raise an eyebrow.

His hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck.

Eventually your friends turn to you, and one of them hands you your skewer. “Who’s this?”

“A friend from the student council.” you respond as you take your snack and start chewing on it. Just as expected, the wait was worth it. 

He nods to them in acknowledgement, before speaking again. “Do you guys mind if I borrow her for a second?”

They look slightly stunned, and then search your face for any sign of dismay. Once they notice you look fine with it (albeit a bit confused), they nod.

He steps to the side and gently grabs your hand, and you follow him, a bit stunned.

The two of you walk for a little while until you reach a tree. “I just wanted to give you something.” he says.

He reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket, and carefully pulls out a mini-bouquet of peony flowers. 

Your eyes widen. He must’ve gotten those from the flower stand.

Immediately, you remember that a lot of students bought peony flowers to ask someone out. 

Your heart sinks. Was this really happening?

“I think you’re cute and nice, and… I was wondering if–”

You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way this is happening.

“If you wanted to be my girlfriend?” he smiles, holding the mini bouquet up to you.

The candied skewer in your hands drops to the ground, your grip going slack, as well as your jaw, as you stare up at him.

You barely knew the guy. Sure you saw him for the first time months ago, as he’d always been part of the council, but you’d only had your first conversation two weeks ago. You didn’t know how you could reject him without coming off as rude.

“Listen, I… I’m sorry.” you start, hoping that would give him a hint.

His shoulders drop. “Oh…” he sighs. 

“I just… I don’t know you that well. Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?”

He lets out a huff as a small frown forms on his lips. “We can get to know each other while dating. Everyone does that.”

“I know, but— I don’t want to do things like that.” you clench your fists, trying your hardest to affirm your boundaries, even though you felt like your knees could give out at any moment.

“... But you could try it, you know? You might end up really liking me.” he takes one step closer.

You were truly at a loss for words. What was this guy’s problem?

Your blood boiled underneath your skin. 

“Come on, please?” he pleaded, but it didn’t sound all that sincere, rather annoyed. Like a child being refused a lollipop. 

That’s when you feel a familiar warm hand rest on your shoulder. “Pretty sure she told you to fuck off. Are you too dumb to read the room, or something?”

Your eyes snap up, and you see Caleb. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips tugged into a frown.

The guy hesitates for a moment. “Do you mind? I was talking to her.”

Caleb hums before looking down at you. “Do you still wanna talk to this idiot?”

You look a bit stunned, but almost as if on instinct, you shake your head. 

“There you go. That enough confirmation for you?” he turns back to the now seemingly embarrassed boy.

“Whatever,” he mutters before walking away, throwing the peonies in a trash bin on his way.

Poor flowers, they didn’t deserve that. And poor tanghulu.

Once the creep is fully out of our sight, you let out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and Caleb releases his grip on your shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmurs, and leans down to be at eye level with you.

And you hate yourself for the way your heartrate immediately picks up. “Yeah, I’m fine… thanks.”

An uncomfortable silence settles in between you. 

“I think I should go—” you start.

“Please don’t.” he immediately interjects. 

You look up at him and sigh. “Why?”

“Because I miss you.” 

Your eyes widened in response. “… What? Why?”

The expression that forms on his face at your words is one you’ve never seen before. He looks hurt, confused and taken-aback, all at once.

“What do you mean why? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague for the past week now.”

You look away, wishing the earth would just crack open and swallow you whole.

He sighs, and takes a step back, as if afraid to overwhelm you or scare you off. “Walk with me?”

You hesitated for a second before nodding, and following him.

He stays silent, giving you the opportunity to speak if you wanted. 

“I… I didn’t really think you’d care that much.” you speak up.

Caleb holds back from nearly exploding because of the absurdity of your statement. He just takes a small breath. “You have no idea how much I care.” he mutters quietly. “... But I know that’s my fault. I should’ve shown you better that I cared.”

You fiddle with your hands, not really knowing what to say. These were the words you’d always wanted to hear from him, and you don’t know how you were possibly going to recover from this.

Suddenly he stops walking. Noticing he’s no longer next to you, you stop as well and turn back to face him. His eyes meet yours, a desperately pleading look in them.  

“Y/N, what did I do? … Why have you been avoiding me?”

And there’s the million dollar question. You had played this scenario over in your head a thousand times– even though you were convinced he wouldn’t even notice your absence. And you still had yet to find an answer that would make you skillfully dodge saying the truth. 

But maybe you couldn’t find a good excuse because there was no excuse. Maybe you just had to be upfront.

You brace yourself for a moment, and then finally spit out the words that had been burning at the back of your throat. “I’m sick of you using me like some sort of placeholder.”

“What?”

“... You heard me.”

“A placeholder for what exactly?”

Was he really going to play dumb? Fine, have it that way.

“For Mc.” you finally blurt out. “Ever since your fight with her, you turned to me. As if to replace her.” You cross your arms over your chest, still unable to look him in the eyes. “I’m sick of being a second choice.”

You imagine he probably looks a bit confused, maybe repulsed. But as you look up to confirm your suspicion, you’re instead met with the most dejected pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. You almost feel bad— he looks like a kicked puppy.

And yet, you can’t help but continue. The words flow out of you, tired of having them echo and fester in you.

“I know I can’t live up to her— she’s pretty, she’s feisty, she’s lively and extroverted. And I’m not like that. I never will be.” you unfold your arms over your chest, letting them fiddle with the hem of your shirt instead. “And I’m tired of constantly having to live up to her— I mean, why should I have to? I know I’m not amazing or anything… but I’m not that undeserving.” you ramble, almost as if to convince yourself, rather than him.

“... That’s how I made you feel?” he asks you, his voice weak and quiet. “Like you had to live up to her?”

The realization you finally let that heavy weight of your chest finally settles in. And despite how terrified you are, you’re mostly relieved. And it felt so good. “... Kind of, yeah.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to live up to her, or be like her– or whatever other idea you have.” he takes a step forward. “I don’t want you to. I never did.”

“So why—”

“If I turned to you it’s not because I needed to replace her. Did you ever stop to think it might just be because I like you?” He searches your eyes for a response, but you look down.  “… I wasn’t looking for her in you, I was just looking for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t help the way your posture shifts, as if to retreat back in your shell like you so often did, taking a small step back. “Caleb, you don’t even know what you’re saying—”

“No, I know exactly what I’m saying.” he doesn’t give you the chance to shield yourself or run away, grabbing both of your hands and pulling you in closer until you’re a breath away from him. He leans his face down to almost meet yours. “I might’ve been the biggest imbecile for taking you for granted and not realizing my feelings sooner… but I know what I’m saying.”

Unknowingly, you hold your breath, waiting for his next words. 

“I’m saying I love you.”

You feel like you might go into cardiac arrest from the way your heart stops beating for a second. Your stare goes vacant, and your lips parted. You might’ve been quiet but your mind wasn’t. You had to have at least ten different voices speaking— no, screaming at the same time. 

He nudges himself closer, pressing his forehead to yours. A hand remains on your own while the other moves up to cup the side of your face. 

“Do you hear me? I love you. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Your eyes finally focus on his own. The sunset currently painted across the sky above your heads matched his own sunset-colored eyes. The lighting only making the soft glow displayed in them brighter. 

“… But what about—“

You feel his eyebrows against your own, knitting together tightly. “If you say her name one more time I’ll lose it.” He interrupts you. “Do I need to repeat myself just to get my point across? Because I’ll do it a hundred times over if that’s what you need.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, and the corner of your lips tilt downwards into a trembling frown. Blinking the tears away, you shake your head softly. “N-no… I get it.”

“Good.” His expression softens at the sight of your tears. “Now stop crying… you’re too pretty for that.”

Nodding, your free hand comes up to wipe at the water pooling in the corners of your eyes. 

He tentatively moves closer, carefully watching your face for any sign of rejection, before kissing away at your tears. “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

“Don’t be, I’m just being overly sensitive.” you continue sniffling, cursing yourself for being unable to stop your waterworks.

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, moving back without straying too far. 

“Do you really mean it?” you let out a shaky exhale. 

“I do.” He nods carefully. “I love you.” he affirms, for the third time already.

You take another deep breath before wrapping your arms around his neck, moving before you could even give your brain the time to overthink it. His hands immediately find the expanse of your back, and the back of your head. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and he does the same, tilting his head sideways to occasionally pepper your neck with kisses, muttering soft apologies against your pulse.

“I feel the same— by the way.” you whisper sheepishly. 

“Thank god…” he speaks, his voice hushed. “Don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.” he chuckles. 

You laugh softly, the ticklish feeling of his lips against your own making you giddy. 

Suddenly, fireworks erupt in the sky. They explode into various colors and patterns, and you look up with wide and amazed eyes. Your pupils are blown, and they reflect the lights in the sky.

Caleb stares at you, heart feeling so full, wishing he could take a photo. 

“Look, they’re pretty right?” you look back at him.

“They’re okay,” he shrugs, before moving closer. “You’re prettier.”

You scoff and close your eyes, letting out a huff. “... That was pretty bad, Caleb.”

He only laughs, taking no offense. How could he feel anything but pure joy when you were standing right there in front of him, arms around his neck, and face close enough for him to see every detail he loved so much? 

“Let me make it up to you then,” he says, and you know what he’s suggesting. 

Not wanting to rush you, he doesn’t move, waiting for your approval. 

You say nothing, far too nervous. Instead, you just nod with half-lidded eyes as you look up at him through your lashes.

Not giving you the time to change your mind, he presses his lips to yours, and tilts your head sideways to deepen the kiss. You find yourself subconsciously raking your nails against the hair at the back of his neck, earning a soft groan from him. He pulls away before letting himself get carried away, but doesn’t forget to lick your lips one more time even as he pulls away.

“You taste sweet,” he comments. But it sounds more like a genuine observation than a compliment. 

A chuckle slips past your swollen lips. “I ate some tanghulu.” you explain. “Before I dropped it on the ground, that is.” you sigh.

You really wanted that snack.

Seeing your adorably disappointed look, he presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Well, I can’t have my girl starving.” he pretends to give it some thought. “What do you say we go get you some more?”

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. 

He slips your hands off his neck, and keeps one in his grasp, already walking back to the food stalls. 

“Also… did you just call me your girl?” you speak up, voice still slightly weak from your dizzying first kiss with him. 

His free hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck where your nails had just caressed him. “Yeah… is that okay with you?” he asks, flustered.

“Would that make you my man then?” you can’t help the grin on your face.

“Absolutely— I mean, yeah. I’d like that. To be your… man.” he clears his throat, embarrassed by how eager he sounded. 

“Okay.” You squeeze his hand and look up at him.

The moment he looks back at you he loosens up and returns your smile. “I love you,” he finds himself repeating for the nth time tonight. He just can’t help it.

Your heart stutters, your cheeks flush, and you look away. “Me too.”

part 1 | part 2

Caleb masterlist a/n: kinda nervous to post this since so many ppl were waiting for it (I wanted to post this sooner, but i had midterms, sorry) but I hope you enjoyed! tysm for all the support and kind words btw, they're very appreciated!

taglist: @pjselee @loreleis-world @kingraspberry12-blog @swivi @insidious-innocence @maryy237 @heiranni @someonestopsoren @horanghaeegr @thatsrayllensworld @chyukiz @spencereadsss @meiyisha @cursedkatana @charityjoy22 @zasyfashicon @glitterykingdomangel @crimsonrubie @youkoden @applecrow168 @seraphineash @seocrilhos @moochiyuu @1stmagnoila @rxelarailuj @hazyue @corvusmemoriae

“Cool. I’m leavin’ early, so make sure to set an alarm.”

Gideon nods, then smiles a little, rising from his seat to grab his own travel bag. He nudges Caleb in passing. “I didn’t think you’d remember my birthday.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Gideon’s smile fades. Caleb gets such an intense look in his eyes sometimes. When he turns that gaze on Gideon there’s no escape—Gideon is frozen still, rooted to the spot. Partly caught in the wonder of Caleb’s full attention, something rare and precious that he really only reserves for his studies and you, and partly a warning from his hindbrain. Freeze. Hold your breath. Submit, show your belly, and hope for the best; this is something stronger than you, and you weren’t built to challenge it.

The moment stretches well past the point of comfortable, but then one corner of Caleb’s mouth ticks up. Gideon’s shoulders untense. “You remembered mine.”

Gideon did. Smuggled you here in secret, one that he doesn’t completely believe Caleb was convinced by, but your brother acted fully surprised when he opened his dorm room and found you sitting on his bed with freshly baked birthday cupcakes. Gideon remembers that Caleb refused to share them with anyone, but handed Gideon one of them when the other guys weren’t looking. Remembers Caleb’s fingers over his more than the taste of them. A little hand-made love letter—written by you and passed to him by your brother’s hand.

“That’s different,” Gideon mumbles. Everyone knows the DAA’s golden boy, after all. Gideon’s just the sidekick. If someone remembers his name it’s to ask for Caleb’s number.

Caleb returns to packing his bag. “Not to me.”

Gideon swallows and looks away, down at his feet. His laces have come loose again.

“Ge!”

Your voice rings out clear and sweet, and you come flying as soon Gideon and Caleb set foot outside the train. Caleb immediately drops his bag, opening his arms wide for you to jump into; a long-perfected drill, one that has been established way before Gideon ever got to witness it. You laugh when he spins you around, clinging to him tightly. Caleb only sets you down after he’s kissed your forehead, and even then he’s reluctant to let go. His hand lingers on your face, stroking over your cheek, head bent low to be as close to you as he can.

The first couple of times Gideon saw this he wondered: which Caleb is the real one? Is the gloomy guy who keeps a gym logbook down to the decimal point really the same person wearing the brilliant smile he does now? Is it possible for someone to go through life so unaffected by anything only to come alive before his little sister?

After a while Gideon decided that it didn’t matter. And as far as he knows he’s the only one who’s been privy to it—both the Caleb that he shows to the world, and the one he shows you. It’s a privilege. A sign of trust. Caleb trusts him. He’s never said it outright, but then he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t allow anyone else to borrow his notes. Gideon’s never seen him tighten anyone else’s flight belt for them, either. Firmly and efficiently, strong fingers pulling on Gideon’s belt loops to make sure it’s secure.

Gideon never says no to that, either, even when his dick strains against his jeans uncomfortably in the cockpit.

“Hi, baby,” Caleb says. He’s smiling at you. Gideon smiles too. It’s impossible not to. Your happiness might exist in a bubble, but standing so close to it it’s impossible for it not to rub off. And then—pop!—you turn to him, and wrap your arms around his neck.

You don’t have to reach as high as with Caleb, and it takes Gideon a moment to remember to wrap his arms around you in response. It surprises him every time, the sudden shift of spectator to participant. He locks eyes with Caleb over your head. Your brother is wearing a fond expression, but his eyes are sharp when they meet Gideon’s. Gideon quickly looks away, feeling embarrassed for no real reason. He inhales your scent—quick and deep; he has to get what he can—and sways you back and forth to make you laugh.

“I missed you,” you say when you pull back. You look between Gideon and Caleb; Caleb takes your hand and locks your fingers together. “Was the trip okay? Are you hungry? I made food at home, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“We missed you too, pips,” Caleb smiles. “And dinner sounds good. I could eat. Gid?”

“Yeah,” Gideon says. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You leave the train station side by side. Caleb on your left, Gideon on your right. Two knights. Your hand is safely tucked in your brother’s. Your free one brushes over Gideon’s every now and then, swaying with your step. Gideon burns with it every time it happens. Just a touch, and he burns for you.

Dinner comes and goes. The food is great; Gideon eats his plate clean twice over. Your home is as familiar to him as his own now—the warm wooden ceilings, the plates with their little bird motifs, the small shrine near the entrance burning incense for your Gran. Everything shows signs of being well-loved, but it’s clean and tidy. Cosy. Caleb’s attempt to make your solitude as comfortable for you as possible. He knows you don’t like living by yourself; knows Caleb hates it even more, especially when you call him late at night and he slips out of the dorm room, answering you quietly. When Gideon listens very closely he can hear your tearful voice under Caleb’s soothing one. And when the call ends and Caleb steps back inside Gideon can hear him tossing and turning for a long time.

Gideon wonders if you know that your brother’s side of their dorm room has several screens devoted to little cameras in hidden corners.

“Gideon-ge,” you say, “do you want to do anything for your birthday? Is there somewhere you want to go?”

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “No, uh. Not really. I thought I was just gonna hang out with you guys.”

You smile at him from across the table. You’re relaxed, leaning against Caleb’s side. Caleb’s scooted his chair flush against yours so you can swing your legs over his lap; Gideon can just make out your brother’s hand resting on your thigh. “Okay. Thanks for spending it with us. I promise we’ll make it really nice for you.”

Gideon flushes. “No—yeah. ‘Course.” He clears his throat and rises from his chair, gathering plates so his hands have something to do. From the corner of his eye he can see Caleb’s amused expression, which only fuels the heat in his cheeks.

“Here, let me do that.” Caleb rises too, and together he and Gideon clear the table. You set up Gideon’s usual spot in the guest bedroom upstairs while the guys do the dishes. Despite Gideon’s flush he feels comforted by the routine. He’s an only child, a happy surprise for his parents who had given up on conceiving, and he’s always wished he had siblings. A younger one, preferably. A little sister. This, with you and Caleb, is the closest he’ll ever get to it.

After dinner you settle in the living room. You and Caleb on the sofa, Gideon on the floor cushion by the table. Caleb puts on music while the three of you chat; he has an impressive CD collection, and Gideon curiously watches him handle the old tech. Caleb likes analogue better, he once told Gideon. Likes that he can hold it in his hands.

Gideon doesn’t recognise the songs. Old music. He likes them all the same, though, though maybe that’s just because he likes hearing Caleb hum along. They play on low, curling comfortably around the darkening evening sky. You mouth along with the lyrics every now then. Gideon watches Caleb watching you, eyes lidded, when you wet your lips.

You ask them about the Academy—are they studying hard? Getting good grades? Having fun, too, going to any parties? (What parties? This guy keeps refusing all invitations, Gideon pokes Caleb.) In return you tell them about life here in Linkon. Friends, school, your anxieties about preparing for college. You’re worried you won’t score high enough to be eligible for a scholarship.

Gideon knows that Caleb has been saving up so that you can do whatever you want regardless of the outcome, but he doesn’t say that. Instead he says, “You’re going to do great.” And he means it. You’re smart, like your brother. Butterflies rise in his chest when your expression softens into something shy.

“Thanks… I really hope so.”

“I know so,” Caleb says, ruffling your hair. “I raised a hard little worker.”

“Does ‘raised’ mean ‘bullied’? If yes, then you’re right. You worked very hard to make sure I had no time for anything but studying.”

“Ungrateful little pipsqueak,” Caleb’s hand reach out to tickle your sides and you half-heartedly wriggle away from him, laughing. Gideon laughs too. When you move around on the sofa your knee ends up resting against Gideon’s shoulder. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. It stays there, anchoring him to your little world. A hidden entrance behind the thorn bushes. It’s impossible to remain unscathed in the process of stepping inside, but Gideon has learned to welcome the pain. The thorns burn him so sweetly he thinks he could stay there forever. Even if it’s just on the threshold. Looking in.

After a while Caleb declares it’s bedtime.

Gideon’s stomach swoops as he stands. You hop up from your seat, up on your tiptoes to kiss Gideon on the cheek. “Night-night, Gid,” you tell him, and he dazedly says “yeah” like an idiot until he remembers to add a quick “you too”.

You disappear down the hallway to the bathroom, and Caleb follows. He pauses just before he rounds the corner, turning his head slightly.

“Door’s open.”

Gideon swallows. “Yeah. Got it.”

He brushes his teeth quickly in the kitchen sink before heading upstairs first, keeping a sharp ear out for when the water stops running on the other side of the house. Gideon has just settled into the guest bed—the pillow smells like you, and he breathes in deeply before shuffling onto his back—when a twin pair of footsteps creak over the stairs, then into your bedroom. A door opens, but doesn’t swing shut. Gideon has kept his own slightly open, too, though he knows from experience that putting his ear to the wall works best.

There’s Caleb’s voice, a warm muffled baritone that is too low to catch the words of. Yours is easier to pick up; you’re laughing about something. Teasing. You ask your ge if he grew even bigger since last you saw him.

“Why don’t you go ahead and check?” Caleb’s voice says, suddenly closer to the wall. Gideon bites his lip, hand drifting lower to palm his hardening dick. There’s no talking for a beat, but he can hear Caleb’s groan. It sounds like a yeah, followed by a quiet “open up”.

Gideon’s eyes squeeze shut, and he unzips his trousers. His cock jerks impatiently when Caleb moans, and Gideon quickly spits in his palm. The first few strokes are just to take the edge off, really, but when Caleb keeps making noises it’s just so hard to stop. He’s loud about it too, unashamed in a way that winds Gideon even tighter—when Caleb talks there’s no filter. It’s not hard to imagine what’s happening in the next room over when he groans about your wet little mouth.

Relax, Caleb’s voice says. You can take him deeper. Such a good girl—does his cock taste good? Do you like it when he uses you? You missed this, right? While he was away? Just a little bit more, and then he’ll fuck you. He missed you so much. Did your pussy miss him, too?

Gideon gasps when you whine, his hips jerking up violently. Caleb must’ve pulled you off him, because for a while there’s silence again, intermingled by soft rustling. Then the bed creaks, and you moan. A wet slap follows, and then another, a slow rhythm Gideon matches with his hand.

Caleb is speaking again. Gideon can’t make out the words, but it acts as a steadying undercurrent when the noises you make grow louder. Whines and moans that up in volume as Caleb ups the pace; a yelp when a louder smack echoes, then another one. Gideon can see it when he closes his eyes, the red sting it’d leave behind on your ass. He wants to rub his hand over it and soothe the hurt. Admire the print that Caleb left behind.

He tries to stave off his orgasm while still keeping the pace that Caleb is setting—sweat beading on his brow, stomach tensing, little gasps punching out of his chest. He strains his ears, listening for when your cries start to slur.

“Ge,” you cry. “Gege, love you—”

Gideon hisses, his hips stuttering. Please, he thinks desperately. Please, I can’t hold it.

He comes the second he hears your bitten-off moan. It’s followed immediately by Caleb’s heavy grunt; the creaking loses its rhythm and dissolves into quick rough slaps. Caleb’s voice breaks halfway through a long, drawn-out moan; Gideon’s dick twitches helplessly, despite having nothing left to give. His spend feels tacky on his stomach.

Harsh breaths even out. The room next door quiets. Gideon blinks a few times to make the stars go away, chest heaving. Once he manages to sit upright he cleans himself up with the clean towel you put out for him. Thoughtful girl. He hears your hushed voices speak for a little while, then fall silent. There’s some more shuffling, and then, click—the faint light in the hallway disappears.

Gideon breathes out and follows your example. The dark aftermath makes it harder to be alone, so he turns on his side and faces the wall. You and Caleb are on the other side. Your combined presence is a living thing, one that permeates every breath this old house takes. Briefly, Gideon presses his hand against the wall and imagines he could reach through the faded wallpaper. Who would be closer? Is it you next to him, wrapped in Caleb’s arms? Or would his palm connect with Caleb’s still-warm back?

Gideon sighs and lets his hand drop. He bundles the blanket and hugs it in his arms, and pretends it’s a body curled up against his own.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Nope,” Caleb says behind him. “Keep ‘em closed. Move a little to the left—” Two hands on Gideon’s hips, warm and big, and he almost stumbles into the wall. Caleb keeps him upright, chuckling. “I said to the left, not the floor.”

“Fuck you, man.” Gideon is fully red. He knows Caleb can see it too; can hear the amusement in his voice, the dick.

“Just don’t peek.”

“I’m not,” Gideon complains. “If you’d just tell me—”

“Just a little more, Gideon-ge? I’m almost done,” your voice says, suddenly close, and Gideon abruptly shuts up. He has some inkling of what’s happening; the house smelled sweet the moment he stepped inside, sugar and flour mixing with the heat of the oven. He was suspicious way before that, to be truthful. Caleb dragging him around town while leaving you behind at home—he’d never do such a thing without good reason. He didn’t even bother to come up with a better excuse. Gideon knows for a fact that Caleb always buys the same pair of running shoes, and that he doesn’t give a crap about anyone’s opinion save for his little sister’s.

But Gideon went. He sat and waited while Caleb pretended to browse, comparing brands, asking Gideon for his thoughts and then immediately dismissing them. He didn’t dare to assume.

When he knocks into another piece of furniture Caleb laughs at him. “Your sense of direction sucks. How did you ever pass the dead reckoning trial?”

Gideon opens his mouth to say that was totally different. He had his eyes then, didn’t he? And he can handle a cockpit blind. Shuffling about in a house, even if it’s a very familiar house, is a whole trial of its own.

But he never gets the chance to air his grievances. Caleb’s arm wraps around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep. His other hand settles on Gideon’s waist, guiding him to the living room without any more unfortunate bumps. All the words dry up in Gideon’s mouth. When Caleb pushes him down onto the couch there’s no resistance, just a resigned exhale. Part of Gideon is glad he’s not able to see Caleb’s face while he manhandles him. He’s half-hard as it is.

Caleb retracts from him, a brief gust of air, footsteps that recede and intermingle with yours in the kitchen. You’re whispering, too quiet for Gideon to hear.

“Okay,” you say. Your voice has drifted over next to him, somewhere by his knees. “You can look now.”

Gideon slowly removes his hands, blinking against the light. On the low table in front of him candles flicker cheerfully; real ones, not the fake stuff they sell at the stores. Happy Birthday Gideon! the cake says in cursive fondant.

Gideon’s throat closes. He hopes you think the wetness in his eyes is because of the light. “Oh,” he says. “Wow.”

“Happy birthday,” you smile up at him. The candles dance in the reflection of your eyes. You’ve curled up on Gideon’s usual floor pillow while Caleb’s taken a seat next to Gideon, one arm casually thrown over the back of the sofa.

“Happy birthday,” Caleb says. He nudges Gideon gently, wearing that same relaxed smile he only ever shows when you’re around.

“Thanks,” Gideon manages. He blinks rapidly. “This looks—amazing, seriously.”

“Made it myself,” you say proudly. “While you were out. Did I surprise you?”

You’re always the first to congratulate him on passing exam week, right behind Caleb. The first to tell him to be safe when the weather is bad and he has to fly. When he got the flu and spent a week shivering in bed you dropped by the Academy to make him soup from scratch, even though it takes two hours by train from Bloomshore.

Is he really surprised when he knows how thoughtful you’ve always been? No. Not one bit. “Yeah, totally. Didn’t see this coming at all.”

“Liar,” Caleb snorts. “Come on, blow out the candles so we can cut the cake.”

“Make a wish,” you say when Gideon leans in. He closes his eyes. There’s not much for him to want in this moment, so all he summons in his thoughts is the image of you and Caleb, sitting on either side of him, waiting for him to make his birthday wish. Just let me have this for a little longer.

The candles dim, smoke curling up in light wisps. You gently pluck them out of the frosting, then cut out a neat slice. Gideon watches you scoop up a forkful and hold it out to him expectantly. He flushes once he realises what you mean for him to do; he glances at Caleb, who’s watching it all with a relaxed smirk. Go on, his eyes seem to say.

Gideon slowly leans in and lets you feed him. The cake is delicious—not overly sweet, chewy and moist—but you could’ve fed him cardboard and it would’ve registered the same. Your eyes crinkle when he swallows. “Good?” you ask him.

“Mm-hm,” Gideon nods empathically. “Really good. Thank you.”

“You missed a spot,” you say, and lean in. Gideon stills obediently, expecting you to wipe it off, but once your hand curls around his cheek you keep going. In the end it’s your lips that touch the corner of his mouth, not a tissue or your thumb. Gideon inhales sharply. You pull back just enough to look at his eyes; giving him a way out, Gideon thinks distantly. But why would he ever want to escape? How could he, when you’re touching him?

When he remains as he is you do it again, rising up from your knees to kiss him more firmly, no longer just on the corner of his mouth but fully over it. Gideon groans, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. He doesn’t know how much he’s allowed. You show him; guiding his hands to your waist, the back of your head. He touches you gently, reverently. Afraid to scare you off. You taste sugar-sweet—or is that just the cake? When you open your mouth and he feels your tongue he whines, high and pathetic. The only thing that keeps him from shrivelling up from embarrassment is that you’re making sounds too; pleased sighs, soft hums. Your hands in his hair, gently scratching over his nape. He shudders.

When you crawl into his lap to straddle him his eyes fly open. He meets Caleb’s gaze from across the sofa, who’s watching intently but making no move to stop any of it. Oh, Gideon thinks faintly when you shift and your thigh grazes his boner. He keeps looking at Caleb while you kiss him, and sees the hunger in his friend’s eyes sharpen to the point of a knife.

“Do you want to keep going?” you murmur against Gideon’s lips.

“Yes,” Gideon says immediately. There’s no hesitation. Whatever it is. “Yes.”

You pull back and smile, looking over at Caleb. Your brother’s already moving—he leans closer, cupping the back of your neck to pull you in. Gideon watches slack-jawed. Caleb doesn’t kiss you; he eats you, slotting his mouth fully over yours. Your eyes flutter shut. Gideon’s cock twitches at the pretty sound you make when Caleb pushes on your jaw and chin, opening your mouth wider. Dazedly, Gideon wonders if he could come just from watching this—you and Caleb making out right in front of him while your hips rock into his own every now and then. He thinks yes.

But that doesn’t seem to be on today’s itinerary: Caleb releases you after a few moments to turn to Gideon instead. Gideon’s long past the feeling of vertigo, but he still feels as though the world turns upside down the second Caleb kisses him. He’s not gentle about it. Caleb’s mouth is insistent and hot, messy with spit, and doesn’t take no for an answer. When Gideon doesn’t open quickly enough for him he bites at Gideon’s lips. Gideon goes slack under him, moaning into his mouth when you add a trail of wet kisses down Gideon’s neck. Yep, fuck, no doubt about it. He’ll come like this no problem.

Whatever clarity of thought remained short-circuits the moment Caleb pulls off and slides down on his knees. You remove yourself from Gideon’s lap, curling up at his side. Your hands slip over his belt, tugging it free with nimble little fingers. Gideon’s panting already—he’s vaguely aware that he must look desperate, but he doesn’t care. Not when Caleb unzips Gideon’s pants and tugs them down his hips along with his underwear. His cock slaps free painfully, smacking against his hoodie and leaving behind a streak of pre-cum.

“Open wider,” Caleb tells him, pushing at Gideon’s knees. “Sit closer to the edge.” Gideon does as told, shaking one leg free from his jeans so Caleb can shuffle in between them. Your brother holds out his hand to you, and you spit in it. It doesn’t do anything to soothe the rough callouses on Caleb’s palm, though, and Gideon whimpers when it wraps around his dick fully.

And then, when Caleb opens his mouth, looking up at him through his dark lashes—Gideon bites the inside of his cheek, desperately summoning images of flight plans and zero gravity chambers. You nudge yourself behind Gideon, legs on either side of him, hands sliding under his shirt and up his torso as Caleb sinks Gideon’s cock in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Gideon chokes. “Christ. Fuck. You—” he cuts himself off with a hiss when Caleb’s teeth scrape against his sensitive skin.

“Be gentle, ge. Careful with your teeth,” you say. Caleb hums around Gideon in response, sending tremors of pleasure up his spine. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, hands curling into fists on his thighs.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, fingers grazing over his nipples, and Gideon’s hips jerk up helplessly. Caleb grunts but makes no move to pull off; he settles into a slow, careful rhythm, following your instructions. It occurs to Gideon that this is probably the first time Caleb’s had a cock in his mouth. It certainly feels like it, anyway. It’s messy and lacks any refinement, but it doesn’t matter. Just the sight of seeing Caleb on his knees is enough to make Gideon’s balls draw up. His friend’s eyes stay on him, flashing an electric violet; a storm Gideon can’t outfly no matter how hard he tries. He can only give himself over to it. And combined with your mouth on his neck, hands stroking over his stomach, his chest, thumbing over his nipples—

he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Go a little faster, gege. Hollow your cheeks,” you instruct. Caleb makes a noise, shifting on his knees. Gideon moans openly the second he speeds up, head lolling back against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck, I can’t—I’m gonna cum, please, please, let me cum—”

“Just a little longer, okay?” you tell him sweetly. “I’ll tell you when.”

Gideon lets out a desperate whine, but he nods. “Yeah. Okay. Okay.” He’s trembling, one leg bouncing impatiently. He silently thanks whatever higher being is out there for mercy when Caleb pulls off briefly to catch his breath.

You pet Caleb’s hair. “Breathe through your nose, ge,” you say. “Use your tongue, too, press it against the underside.”

Caleb’s big hands slide over Gideon’s thighs, squeezing at the muscle. He rests his head against Gideon’s knee briefly to give you a lop-sided smile. “Yes ma’am. You havin’ fun bossing me around?”

“Wha—you’re the one who said to teach you,” you sputter. You nuzzle against Gideon’s shoulder. “Doesn’t it feel good? Gid?”

“No, no, it feels good,” Gideon says breathlessly. “Really good.”

You lean back against the couch, pulling Gideon with you. He resists at first, abs tensing—he doesn’t want to hurt you. You tug at his arms. “Put your weight on me,” you tell him. “It’s okay. Just lie back. You can just feel good now.”

When Caleb places one hand over Gideon’s stomach and pushes, what else can he do but obey? He gingerly leans against you, one hand absentmindedly stroking over your leg when you raise your knees on either side of him. You’re soft and warm. Sweet. You nudge his jaw, drawing him into a kiss. At the same time you open your mouth for him Caleb does so too on his cock, and Gideon just barely keeps from crying out. Caleb’s hollowing his cheeks just like you told him; clumsily, sure, but it was already over for Gideon the moment you kissed him. There’s no strength left in him to keep him from melting into you.

“Want to come, Gideon-ge?” you mouth against him. “You did so good. You can come. You’re so good, letting us play with you like this.”

When you take one of his hands and interlace it with yours, fingers squeezing down, Gideon comes with a shout. His hips jerk, and he hears Caleb gag in surprise—he feels bad about it, but unfortunately the sound only makes him twitch harder.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Oh, please, please, please. Please, fuck, thank you—oh—”

He cracks his eyes open just in time to see Caleb swallow, then immediately closes them again with a groan. When Caleb drags his mouth off him Gideon lets out a weak laugh, hips shying away from the sensation. Caleb rises off his knees and leans over, and for a moment Gideon thinks he’ll kiss him again—but Caleb moves past him, over his shoulder. He can just see you obediently opening your mouth from the corner of his eye. If he could blush any harder, he would. The wet sounds so close to his ear are obscene.

“Hmm,” you sigh. “You taste good.”

Through the haze of bliss it takes a beat for Gideon to understand, but when he does he hides his face in his hands. “This is crazy,” he says behind them.

Caleb laughs a little. “Tappin’ out already?” he teases. “Thought you’d last longer than that.” Gideon scowls at his friend from behind the opening of his fingers. Caleb is grinning down at him. “C’mon. Sit up.”

Gideon pushes himself upright with noodle arms so you can crawl out from behind him. “Can we kiss a little more?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” Gideon says helplessly. Anything. “Of course.”

You smile at him, and Gideon’s heart twists. You fit so perfectly into him, mouth soft, kissing him sweetly. You encourage him to wind his hand through your hair, to move you as he likes. He’s thought about doing this so much it’s surreal to actually experience it; Gideon is still not totally sure if he’s dreaming or not. He’s not had this particular fantasy before, but these elements—you in his arms, eager and pliable and sighing his name—star in every one of them.

Your pretty little sounds grow into quiet moans, ones Gideon mirrors. He’s making you feel good. His dick is starting to get hard again.

He’s so gone on the rush of you that he misses the shuffling of clothes—only when you jerk in his arms with a sudden whimper does he think to pause and pull back. Caleb’s worked your shorts off, underwear pulled to the side. When Gideon looks down he can see your brother’s fingers moving inside you. Caleb’s looking at him, though. Eyes all serious and dark again.

“Gid,” you whine when he sits and stares. “Touch me?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gideon soothes. Your expression has gone a little glassy, and his cock twitches. “Here?” His hands slide up your torso, under your shirt, a little emboldened after hearing your beg for him. For him. Gideon-ge. You’re not wearing a bra, so he’s free to cup your bare breasts. You push into him, moaning quietly when he thumbs over your nipples.

You go liquid under pleasure, Gideon finds out. It’s a discovery that already haunts him; to know that you’re weak to feeling good, to know that this is what you look like when you give yourself over to it. Curled against his chest like a little cat, hips shivering against your brother’s hands, kisses growing sloppier the longer Gideon plays with your tits. The sound you make when Caleb removes his fingers is heartbreaking.

Gideon looks at his friend, waiting for orders. What’s next? And Caleb must be able to read it in his eyes, because he reaches around the sofa and pulls out an unopened box. Gideon just barely manages to catch it when Caleb tosses it to him.

“Since you came when you were told you get a reward,” Caleb says with a slight smile. “Just play nice. No hurting. Only I get to do that.”

Gideon flusters. “I am nice,” he says indignantly, fingers tightening around the condom packets. He’d be whatever you wanted him to. He strokes your cheek and you hum, leaning into his touch. “Can I fuck you?” he asks you quietly.

“Mm-hmm,” you say, nuzzling his hand. “How do you want me? The birthday boy gets to pick.”

Gideon wets his lips, eyes darting briefly to Caleb. Your brother has settled in the big falling-apart chair across the table, knees spread, his elbows on the chair’s arms. The audience waiting for his show.

“Then—” Gideon says, gently pushing on your shoulders. “Like this? Is that okay?”

You go easily, pliantly following his weight as you lie down on the sofa for him. Gideon quickly divests himself of his hoodie—he’s starting to feel sweaty. His pants are fully discarded as well, leaving him in just his t-shirt. Your hands pet over his abdomen appreciatively. “You’re so handsome,” you tell him. “Good-looking Gideon.”

His cheeks heat again, and he ducks his head. “I’m not all that,” he mumbles.

“I think so,” you reply earnestly. “I want you.”

Gideon’s throat feels all funny again. He doesn’t trust his voice and so kisses you instead, pulling up your own shirt so he can trail his mouth lower over your chest. He has half a mind to ask you to forget about fucking you—can you just ride his face instead? For an hour or more, preferably? But when he moves further down you pull at his shoulder, eyes teary.

“Please? I’m ready, I really need it,” you whine. “I need you.”

“Okay,” Gideon shushes. “Okay. You have me. I’m here.”

Had him all this time, really. You and Caleb both. Gideon will give you everything you want. Anything you want. He rolls on the condom, notching himself against your entrance. You’re soaked; Caleb did a good job preparing you, and Gideon likes to think that at least some of it is thanks to him. It was his name you called out, him you arched into while Caleb worked you open. That has to count for something.

Gideon whimpers when he sinks inside. You’re wet and hot and so tight still, clenching against him so good there’s white static in his head for a minute. Gideon pants. His stamina is usually decent, but whenever you and Caleb are involved usual doesn’t apply to the rules. The laws of gravity written anew, bent to Caleb’s hand.

When Gideon glances over he sees that same hand palming Caleb’s dick through his pants.

“Shit,” Gideon groans when he rocks his hips forward. “You feel so—you’re so wet. So pretty. Does it feel good? I’m not hurting you?”

“It feels good,” you beg when he sinks in a little deeper. “More, please.”

Gideon gives you more. He hugs you tightly against him and revels when you cling back just as tight, legs locking around his hips, arms around his shoulders. He presses as much of himself against you as possible and commits it to memory. Once this is over he wants to feel the imprint of you lingering on him. In his mouth, where he kisses you, your wet little tongue stroking against his own; your hands in his hair, scrabbling against his back when his thrusts grow heavier. Your thighs pressed against his hips, soft and strong. Trembling. For him to give you what you need.

When you pulse around him his eyes flutter closed. “Baby—” he starts, then immediately stops, biting his tongue. Didn’t mean to let that slip out. Gideon knows his place. He does. He’s just thought about it so long, his baby, his and Caleb’s, your two hands in theirs. He groans and buries his face in your neck.

You laugh a little, hand stroking over his hair. “What is it? Why’re you hiding?”

“Sorry,” Gideon mumbles. “Not trying to…”

“Come kiss me,” you say in his ear. “Come kiss your baby.”

Gideon moans; his hips move without his say-so, and he pulls back to see your little smile. You’re doing it on purpose, too; he can see the playful glint in your eyes when you tilt your head at him. Gideon fervently hopes you don’t see through him as much as he fears. Caleb’s constant (and accurate) read on him is plenty mortifying, thank you.

Gideon glances at his friend again. Caleb’s lazily fisting his cock, lips slightly parted. His eyes are so dark Gideon can’t make out any purple at all. “Well?” Caleb says when Gideon stares for a beat too long. “What’re you waitin’ for? She said to kiss her.”

Gideon shivers a little, then does as told. You pulse around him again, which makes his head spin. So cute. You’re so cute. He loves kissing you. Loves that you love it so much, too, that it makes you feel good, that it makes you clench around his cock—

“Good?” Caleb’s voice asks. “Push one of her legs up. Hold it down with your hand.”

You cry out the next time Gideon thrusts into you, knee pressed against your shoulder. Gideon’s fingers dig into your soft flesh, pushing your lower leg up and out until it rests on his shoulder. He noses against it, panting, mouthing at your ankle. He’s never been especially into feet, but just now he’s overcome with the desire to lick yours. Has your brother ever done that? Would it be the first anyone’s ever touched you there?

Caleb exhales roughly. “Yeah. Like that. Press down on her stomach.”

“Ge,” you sob when Gideon obeys. “Ge, gege, I’m gonna come, please—!”

Gideon moans. Gideon-ge. Ge. Your baby. Feeling his cock through your stomach makes his head swim, but your voice is what ultimately draws him closer to the edge. He’s trying to hold off, desperate to feel you come on his dick, but you’re not making it easy for him. He grits his teeth when your body seizes against his own, biting his cheek and tongue to keep a clear enough head to watch your eyes glaze over in your pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him sweet-hot, begging for something to fill you up. He wants to give it to you so bad his stomach hurts with it.

Gideon is so gone on the sauce that he startles when Caleb’s hand suddenly settles on his neck. Hadn’t even heard him walk over, too lost in what he thought would only forever exist in his daydreams. “Don’t come yet,” Caleb says roughly. “Pull out for a sec. And lie down on your back.” Gideon whimpers a little at that; pulling out, now? While you’re still fluttering around him through your comedown? But Caleb squeezes his fingers around Gideon’s nape, and makes Gideon look at him instead of your fucked-out expression. “C’mon, puppy. Move it.”

Gideon groans high and needful when he pulls out of you, but with Caleb there’s no saying no. Especially not when he looks like this. His eyes are blazing, jaw tense, and Gideon thinks he almost looks angry. No, maybe he really is angry. It would explain the way he pushes Gideon down, mean and hard. If the sofa hadn’t cushioned him it would’ve hurt.

Gideon tries not to think about what it means that this makes his dick twitch again.

Caleb makes you crawl over Gideon while he fiddles with another mystery box from the spot behind the couch. Gideon hears the shnick of a bottle being opened, but he can’t see anything; you’re kissing him again, and your stomach is warm and soft again his cock. Then, suddenly—you whine, whole body tensing. Caleb shushes you.

“Be good,” he tells you. “You wanna be good, right? Relax.”

“Slowly,” you whimper. “It’s too much. Ge—”

“Stop fussin’. If you keep squirming it’ll only hurt more.”

You bury your face in Gideon’s neck. “Gideooon…”

“You’re callin’ for Gideon now? But he’s not gonna save you.” Caleb smacks your ass. Gideon feels it through you, the jolt of your hips, the breath you suck in when Caleb’s palm lands. “Lift your hips, baby.”

Trembling, you do as he says. Your hair falls over your eyes and partly over Gideon’s; he’s blind, and happily so, but unprepared for Caleb to grab your hips and lift you over Gideon’s cock. He sinks you down on it slowly, and Gideon has to clench his fists and grit his teeth all over again so he doesn’t come in you the second he bottoms out.

Caleb pushes you down against Gideon, one large hand on your back, and Gideon wonders for a moment what he’s meant to do, if anything at all, but then—

Something presses against his dick. Slowly, fed deeper inch by inch, rubbing against his length through a thin wall inside of you. You hiss and whine and dig your nails into his shoulders, but Gideon’s not of much use for comfort. Caleb’s dick is right up against his own inside you, and he thinks he’s going to pass out.

He looks past you, over your shoulder, up at Caleb who’s thrown his head back with his eyes closed. He’s still wearing his clothes, jeans just shucked down far enough to free his cock. He groans when he rocks forward, eyes opening briefly to catch Gideon’s. His cock sinks deeper inside your hole, and Gideon shivers. Who’s really fucking who, here?

“Almost,” Caleb pants. “Almost in, pips, just a little more. Here, lift your—yeah. Just like that, good girl.” One of Caleb’s hands finds its way between you and Gideon. His knuckles dig into Gideon’s lower stomach, back and forth as he rubs your clit without any regard for Gideon’s comfort, and Gideon groans when you clench around him again. The tips of Caleb’s fingers graze the root of Gideon’s cock, and Gideon bites his lip so hard that his mouth fills with an iron tang.

Caleb rocks his hips forward again. Gideon doesn’t need to see it to feel it; the heat of your brother’s body hovering just behind yours, the hands that dictate where your hips go, and the insistent slide of his cock until he’s seated fully in your ass. You’re shivering, clenching and unclenching around the two of them in a desperate bid to stay open and relaxed enough to take it. When Caleb pulls you up to kiss you Gideon catches a glimpse of your eyes. They’re glassy and dreamy, a pretty fucked-out doll with flushed cheeks and sweaty hair sticking to the side of your face. Gideon palms your stomach again. He’s probably imagining it—wishful thinking, because that’s all he’s ever done since he first saw you and Caleb together—but compared to before he’d swear it feels bigger. Fuller. Him and Caleb, one on each side of you, an infinite embrace that loops and skips over the little knot that is Gideon’s hand holding yours.

You squeeze it reflexively every time Caleb moves. He goes slowly at first, kissing the side of your head and pushing the hair out of your eyes while you make cute little sounds that actively eat away at Gideon’s heart. Then a little faster. A little meaner. Caleb looks Gideon in the eye while he frots his cock against Gideon’s. Touching and yet not; it’s a tease, a taunt, one that he knows Gideon won’t back away from but will surrender to, because that’s what he’s always been helpless to do. Sweat beads on his forehead.

“Feelin’ good, baby?” Caleb asks. Gideon’s heart skips a moment, unsure who Caleb is addressing. Your brother’s eyes crinkle when Gideon doesn’t dare to answer. “I know you are.” Caleb kisses your temple. “You like Gideon’s cock, huh? Nice and full? He’s been holdin’ out pretty well. Don’t you think so? Say thank you.”

“Thank—thank you,” you gasp out. “Thank you, ge, thank you—”

“Listening so well.”

Caleb releases you from his grip, and Gideon catches you when you slump against him. He feels desperate. His vision blurs, unable to grip onto anything solid. He’s bursting at the seams, trying to make it last, to be good, to deserve your pretty voice saying thank you so nicely, but Christ—

Caleb snaps his hips forward, fucking your ass and fucking Gideon and Gideon needs to come, he needs to come so badly he doesn’t even need to move, he just needs to lie there and take it. Take whatever you and Caleb want to give him. Anything. Everything. His eyes tear up. When Caleb and you moan in unison at a particularly deep thrust he can’t take it anymore:

“Please,” Gideon rasps. “Please, please can I come? I can’t—please, please—”

Caleb licks his lips and bends down. His rhythm doesn’t falter when his hand closes around Gideon’s throat, but Gideon’s heart does. Skipping wildly, breath catching, balls drawing up and it hurts—

“Not yet,” Caleb pants. “Not yet, puppy, hold it.”

“Please,” Gideon slurs. “Please, sir—”

He’s too far gone for embarrassment, but still his stomach swoops when Caleb laughs. Frenzied and breathless, a little wild and a little strange and Gideon loves him, he really loves your brother and he really loves you and his dick is seriously, actually, genuinely going to explode. Caleb leans down and kisses him again, mean and with teeth, and Gideon can’t hold back anymore. His cock jerks inside you and he comes, hard, pleasure shooting up his spine and buzzing around the back of his skull until he feels dizzy despite lying down. His moans sound loud in his ears, his voice twisted as though it belongs to a stranger’s. Caleb fucks him and you through it relentlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Gideon pants against Caleb’s mouth when he finds his words again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

Caleb smiles, but it’s far from reassuring. “We’ll work on it.”

Gideon doesn’t get the chance to think about the implications of that. The relief of release ebbs away and is immediately caught and strangled in the realm of too-much, wringing his insides out until he’s gasping for breath again. He wants to laugh and groan and squirm away, but there’s nowhere to go: you’re tightening up, close to your own edge, and Caleb’s weight behind you is as sure as a rock. Gideon’s cock twitches weakly. Mercy, he thinks helplessly.

“Go on,” Caleb rasps. He’s pulled back and taken his hand off Gideon’s throat, and uses it to pull your hips against his cock with a wet slap. “Come on Gid’s cock, baby.”

You warble something against Gideon’s shoulder, and he forces his jelly arms to wrap around you. You cling to him, sobbing when your body seizes and you do as your brother tells you to. It’s wonderful. It’s agony. Gideon’s cock feels raw, wet with his own spend clinging to him inside the condom. You pulse around him viciously.

He watches with bleary eyes as Caleb’s jaw sets, his hips finally losing their steady rhythm and slipping into something hard and loose. The animal need of pleasure. Gideon feels it when Caleb comes, or maybe it’s just in his head; Caleb’s seed pulsing inside you, the swell of his cock. The final few snaps of his hips, slow and mindless, making sure you get everything he can give with the same heady groan Gideon heard last night.

Caleb looks beautiful like this. Moreso than Gideon had even imagined, and he’s imagined it a lot. Flushed cheeks and glittering eyes, the faint shine of sweat on his brow highlighting his handsome features. Gideon thinks about licking it off while your mingled breaths slow.

Caleb sighs, pleased. Just got a good workout in, Gideon can almost hear him say. He peels you off Gideon’s chest gently, wiping your tears and drool and kissing you sweetly on the mouth. “Good girl,” he tells you, and Gideon shivers a little at the devotion in his eyes.

You hum weakly. “Mm-hmm.”

Caleb smiles. He pulls himself out slowly, petting your head when you grumble and groan. He’s way too big, you complain. Dummy ge, he almost split you in two, couldn’t he tell? What would he have done then, if he’d had to sew you back together?

Caleb laughs and steps into the kitchen to get a clean towel. “If you keep sayin’ cute things like that I can’t promise I’ll behave any better next time.”

“Stupid,” you sniff. You take the towel and gently rise, petting Gideon’s chest apologetically when he tenses against the drag of your pussy over his cock. “Are you okay, Gideon-ge? Caleb didn’t bully you too much, did he?”

“Yeah,” Gideon wheezes when you fully remove yourself. “Just—just peachy.”

You laugh a little and wipe the cum off his stomach, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Gideon is unprepared for it; he blinks and you’re gone, and he kicks himself for not kissing you back. Caleb takes the towel from you and trades it for a glass of water.

Gideon pushes himself up from the sofa. His body feels as though it’s been spinning in antigrav for hours.

“I’ll run you a bath,” Caleb tells you gently. He draws you into his arms and holds you while you drink. “Hungry?”

You nod. “I wanna eat chicken.” You reach out and take Gideon’s hand, drawing him into your half-embrace with Caleb. “What do you feel like having for dinner, Gideon-ge?”

“Oh,” Gideon blinks. His body moves without thinking, arm reaching to wrap around you. It’s as easy as breathing—or maybe it’s just because it’s you. “Chicken is good.”

“Then chicken it is,” Caleb says. He shifts, moving his legs so Gideon can sit more comfortably on your other side. He slings his arm over the back of the sofa again, though this time his hand reaches up to stroke Gideon’s nape. Caleb’s short nails scratch lightly over Gideon’s short hair like they would with a pet’s. You lean your head on Gideon’s shoulder, sighing contentedly, and his heart soars.

It doesn’t come back down until much later, once baths have been had and dinner has been eaten. The three of you ended up having Gideon’s birthday cake for dessert; Caleb fed you, you fed Gideon, and Gideon tried to remember to chew and swallow like a normal person. Afterwards Caleb put his music on again, something slow and warm, and you lit the candles around the living room. You can blow them out later, you told Gideon conspiratorially, so you can get some extra birthday wishes in.

He’d laughed, painfully aware of his heart tripping over how cute you are smiling up at him, and didn’t tell you that today was already a wish come true. There’s nothing else for him to want. But he said yes, of course. Always yes. He’ll blow them out and think of your pretty face when he does.

Gideon closes the tap. He dries his hands and pushes the bathroom door shut, but stops before he enters the living room again. His feet just brush the threshold. You and Caleb are curled up together on the sofa, your head in his lap, and Caleb strokes over your hair while you talk. The low light from the candles throws a warm hue over you, soft shadows that flicker with the candles’ breath. Gideon watches it from the dark of the hallway.

He doesn’t want to disturb it, and he doesn’t want to leave. Always caught in this twofold dilemma. Can’t make up his mind, either, neither to leave nor to go.

And then, just when he thinks he’ll quietly go up the stairs, you catch his eye. Maybe the floorboards creaked when he shifted on his feet, or maybe his stare was too intense for you to miss. But your face lights up the moment you see him, and you sit up, one hand outstretched;

“Gideon-ge! What are you doing over there? Come here, we were waiting for you!”

Gideon breathes out, and steps forward.