#grami

(I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling poorly, I do hope that things turn around soon!)

Gwil gently knocks on the door before he pushes it open, just enough to peer inside. It is his room, so one could argue that he could just barge right in, but he wouldn’t do that to Rami. Rami, who was fine when he left New York, but got off the plane in London looking like absolute shit. Gwil tucked him into his bed a couple hours ago, and figured that now was a good time to check in on him again.

Rami’s resting on his back, wearing a grey t-shirt, the blankets pushed down around his waist. His mouth is hanging open, and he looks a bit sweaty, but also…Gwil thinks he looks okay. He hasn’t gotten sick, he looks comfortable enough. Gwil smiles faintly, and steps back, pulling the door closed, but then he winces a bit when it creaks. He pauses for a moment, and then hears:

“Gwil?”

“Shit,” Gwil says softly, and then he opens the door again, looking in. “Hi,” he says, smiling at Rami. Rami struggles a bit to push himself up, and Gwil hurries into the room, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “No, no, that’s alright,” Gwil says. “No need to get up.”

“I should,” Rami says, and he wavers a bit, like he’s dizzy, and then he rests his head against Gwil’s arm. “Mm,” he groans, “I don’t know…”

“Still feeling poorly?” Gwil asks, reaching up to brush Rami’s curls back from his clammy forehead, and Rami nods. “I’m sorry,” Gwil whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Rami’s head.

“Why are you sorry?” Rami asks, shifting on the mattress and letting himself fall back against his pillows. “I’m the one who’s ruining my visit.”

“No, not at all,” Gwil says, reaching out to take Rami’s hand, smiling as he gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’re still here, aren’t you? It’s still lovely.” He lifts Rami’s hand up to his mouth, giving him a soft kiss. “I just wish you felt better, for your sake.” He reaches out, gently playing with Rami’s hair again. “What can I get you?” he asks.

“No, nothing,” Rami says. “I…” He groans softly, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “I have my water.”

“Yes, but is that enough?” Gwil watches Rami, trying to guess what would make him feel better. A clean shirt, perhaps. Or maybe a shower. But Gwil would probably have to hold him up; Rami seems quite shaky at the moment.

Rami shifts, arching up a bit, trying to stretch himself out on the mattress and get comfortable, before he looks back over at Gwil. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m trying,” Gwil says. “I— please, tell me, what can I get for you? Anything.”

“Hmm. Anything?” Rami looks at Gwil, and Gwil nods quickly. “There is one thing, but…I don’t know.” Gwil raises his eyebrows and holds his breath, waiting for Rami to continue. “Can you just stay with me?” Rami asks. “I…I don’t want you to get sick, but—”

“Done,” Gwil says, and he immediately lifts his feet up onto the bed, settling down next to Rami, curling up on top of the covers. He reaches out, cupping Rami’s cheek. “What else?”

“You’ve done enough,” Rami says.

“I can’t believe that,” Gwil says, “I haven’t done anything at all.”

Rami makes a quiet noise, letting his eyes drift closed, feeling too tired to keep them open any longer. “Were you busy?” he asks softly. “Before you came to check on me? You don’t have to stay if you were.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gwil says. He shifts on the mattress, knowing that he should stay further away from Rami, he might be contagious, whatever he has, but also, he’s been waiting to see Rami in-person for weeks, he’s been waiting to touch him. “I’ll be right here, okay? Tell me if you need anything.”

Rami smiles faintly at Gwil, even with his eyes still closed. “Just rest for now, right here…comfy bed. Don’t go.”

Rami curls against Gwil’s side as Gwil takes a drink, both of them watching the television. Rami makes a quiet noise, rubbing his hand over Gwil’s chest as he snuggles closer to him, and then he just pops one of the buttons on Gwil’s shirt, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Gwil jumps. “God, your fingers are cold,” he says. “Don’t you have any circulation?”

“Sorry,” Rami says, but he doesn’t take his hand away, just slowly moves it over Gwil’s chest, gently scratching his fingers through Gwil’s chest hair. “I feel bad for him.”

“Who, Grigor?” Gwil asks, and Rami nods.

“He’s so in love with her…” Rami says, trailing off as he watches Gwil and Charity perform on-screen. “It’s so sad.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic,” Gwil says, smirking, and Rami scoffs, lifting his head up to look at him.

“Whatever,” Rami says, giving Gwil a quick kiss before he settles back down. “I just think she’s being dumb.”

“Why’s that?” Gwil asks, taking another drink.

“Nicholas Hoult is cute and all,” Rami says, and Gwil chuckles. “But he’s no you.”

“Well…” Gwil nods. “I— you know what? I think I’ll text him that.”

“Good,” Rami says. “Tell him. Text Charity too, tell her that George better smarten up.”

“You are aware this is a scripted drama, aren’t you?” Gwil says, smiling. Rami curls his fingers into Gwil’s chest again, a bit harder this time, and Gwil laughs loudly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

“Sorry that I’m too into your show,” Rami says. “If someone would spoil it for me—”

“No spoilers,” Gwil says. “You have to watch.”

Rami groans, and then slides his hand down over Gwil’s chest, resting his arm around his waist. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll watch. I do like it, you know.”

Gwil smiles, kissing Rami’s forehead. “Thank you,” he says. “That means a lot, especially from you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rami says. He shifts, straddling one of Gwil’s thighs, so that they’re snuggled together as closer as they can be.

“Are you comfortable?” Gwil asks, and Rami nods.

“Yeah, are you?” Rami asks, and Gwil nods, wrapping an arm around Rami’s waist. “I’ll move in a few minutes when I get hungry.” He lifts his head up, giving Gwil a quick kiss. “Now shh, I want to see what happens next. I don’t like this Leo guy.”

Rami clenches around Gwil as he sinks down on him. He has to shift his hips a bit and take a deep breath to relax himself enough for Gwil to fit. “God,” Rami says softly, resting his hands on Gwil’s stomach, splaying his fingers out to brace himself. “Gwil, it’s…” Rami’s head tilts back a bit and he shifts his hips again, trying to spread his legs further around Gwil’s hips, knees digging into the mattress.

“You’re alright,” Gwil says softly, rubbing his hand over Rami’s straining thigh.

“Yeah,” Rami nods, “uh-huh, it just— it’s— god.”

Gwil chuckles softly, the sound low in his chest, and he shifts under Rami, trying to push himself up a bit more against the pillows he’s got against the headboard. He reaches up, wrapping his other hand around Rami’s cock, gently squeezing him before he starts to stroke him. “It’s not like you’re not big yourself,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the head of Rami’s dick.

Ram gasps and laughs softly, starting to rock back and forth on Gwil, feeling how stretched he is around him. “But you’re big all over,” he says. He whimpers a bit. “Gwil, god, you’re—” He starts breathing heavily, and Gwil can do nothing but watch him. “I— ha, you— god.” Rami groans, biting down on his bottom lip, teeth dragging against it. “Gwil, I—” Rami’s breath catches in his throat as he keeps rolling his hips against Gwil’s.

Gwil thrusts him up into Rami, one of his hands resting on his hip, fingers digging into his ass as Rami clenches around him. “Can you move faster?” he asks.

Rami nods eagerly, and starts rocking harder against his hips, bouncing up and down on him.

“God yes,” Gwil says, and he starts stroking Rami faster.

“Gwil,” Rami cries out, and he hunches over, falling forward over Gwil’s chest, fingers digging into his ribs.

Gwil moves his hand from Rami’s hip, sliding up over his back, Rami panting softly, breath puffing over Gwil’s skin. Gwil leans up, pressing a kiss to the top of Rami’s head, his hand still rubbing up and over Rami’s back.

“Gwil,” Rami moans, “your hands, I— so big.”

Gwil falls asleep before Rami makes it home, despite his best efforts. Maybe going to bed wasn’t the best idea; he probably had a better shot of staying awake on the sofa, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He sprawls out on the bed, resting on his stomach, legs stretched out and arms under the pillow.

He wakes up, but doesn’t open his eyes, when he thinks he hears something in the flat, but there are no other noises and he falls back asleep almost immediately.

Gwil wakes up again a bit later, eyes still too heavy to open, when he feels something brush against his side. He must still be half asleep because his first instinct isn’t to jump up or push himself away, but just rest there, trying to figure out what it is. It doesn’t take him long, though; he assumes that a robber wouldn’t have broken in just to climb in bedside alongside Gwil and gently run their fingers over Gwil’s back.

Rami shifts next to Gwil, tracing his fingers from one mole or freckle to the next, softly murmuring to himself as he goes. He likes to distract himself with Gwil’s body; sometimes he counts them, sometimes he moves his finger in rhythm with lines that he’s trying to memorize. Sometimes he just likes to touch Gwil and tell him about all the reasons that he loves him, each mole on Gwil’s back representing something else.

Gwil stretches his legs out, flexing his feet, and Rami’s movements pause, but then when Gwil doesn’t open his eyes, Rami keeps going.

“And then Joe started talking about Bake Off,” Rami continues, and Gwil has to bite back on a smile; so this is the ‘Rami tells Gwil about his day’ version of distracting himself. Gwil drifts back asleep and then wakes up again, and Rami’s still softly talking, though this time Gwil recognizes it as the lines he needs to know for tomorrow. He thinks that Rami must be unable to fall asleep, if he’s still up, touching Gwil. Counting freckles like counting sheep.

“Rami,” Gwil murmurs, and Rami’s hand stops moving over Gwil’s back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rami says, and he snuggles closer to Gwil. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Mm,” Gwil says, “it’s okay.” He barely lifts his head up, blinking his bleary eyes. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.

Rami shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Gwil’s shoulder. “Soon though.”

“Okay,” Gwil says, and he yawns loudly, and settles back down on the mattress. “Touch me all you want,” he says quietly. “I don’t mind.”

“It doesn’t keep you up?” Rami asks, and Gwil shakes his head, pressing his cheek to the mattress.

“Feels nice,” Gwil says. “Whatever you need.”

Rami smiles, snuggling against Gwil’s side. “I need you,” he says softly, and Gwil smiles back.

“Do you need me awake and listening?” Gwil asks. “Or is being fast asleep okay?”

Rami chuckles, and kisses Gwil’s shoulder again. “Just here with me is good enough,” he says.

“Good,” Gwil says, and he opens his eyes just a bit, looking at Rami— or the shadows of him anyway, in the dark room. “Because that’s where I’ll be.”

Rami smiles, and stretches his arm out over Gwil’s shoulder. “I know,” he says. “Me too.”

(can I also just recommend my own story, that also basically meets this prompt?? https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219455 — first kiss fluff!)

Rami shifts on the sofa, looking at the television. He reaches out for his beer, taking a quick drink, and then he glances back towards the bedroom. Gwil’s been in there for a surprisingly long time; which is fine; it’s Gwil’s flat, and Gwil’s anything like Rami, he’s probably walked in there to do one thing and then got distracted by something else entirely.

Rami looks back at the TV, some British game show that he’s never heard of but that Gwil likes, and he sort of half watches it, while also taking his phone out, checking WhatsApp.

Gwil walks into the living room, dropping down heavily onto the sofa next to Rami. “Sorry,” he says, “that took longer than I thought.”

Rami shrugs, not looking up. “It’s fine,” he says, and Gwil reaches out, taking Rami’s left hand. Rami smiles, continuing to scroll with his right hand, and then after a few moment, he looks up at Gwil. “What the fuck is that?” he asks, laughing.

“What?” Gwil asks, cocking his head to the side.

“That,” Rami says, reaching out to Gwil’s face, but Gwil gently swats his hand away.

“What, this?” Gwil asks, gesturing to his face, where one of Rami’s fake moustaches is stuck below his nose. 

Rami laughs some more, shaking his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve always had this,” Gwil says.

“Gwil, stop,” Rami says, shifting on the sofa, straddling one of Gwil’s legs. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just trying out a new look,” Gwil says.

“You look ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you,” Gwil says, and Rami laughs. “Come here, give us a kiss, I want to see what it’s like.” He leans in, kissing over Rami’s cheek and neck, making his shoulders scrunch up, and he laughs loudly.

“Gwil, it’s awful,” Rami says, “stop. Grow your own beard back, this is weird.”

“You don’t like it?” Gwil asks. “It’s yours.”

“That’s why it’s weird,” Rami says, what are you even doing with it?”

Gwil shrugs. “I snagged it from your trailer before we left.”

“Why?” Rami asks. “Again, I don’t think we’ve covered that yet.”

“Mostly to annoy you,” Gwil says, and Rami smiles.

“Well, it worked,” Rami says. “I, maybe not annoy, but this is so weird, Gwil.” He starts laughing again.

“I can’t pull it off?” Gwil asks.

“You look like a drug runner from the 1970s,” Rami says. “It’s really not doing anything for me.”

“Okay,” Gwil says, and he reaches out for his beer, settling back on the sofa.

“Are you keeping it on?” Rami asks.

“Sure, why not,” Gwil says, and he takes a drink. He smiles at Rami, leaning in to give him a kiss. 

Rami just shakes his head, and drops back down onto the sofa next to Gwil, but he stays curled against his side, looking back at the television. “You’re ridiculous,” he says softly, and he pulls back, looking up at him. “What— you’re—” He shakes his head, and then leans in, giving Gwil another kiss. “You’re odd.”

Gwil shrugs, wrapping an arm around Rami’s waist, taking another drink. “That’s why you like me.” Rami doesn’t say anything, just looks at Gwil, and Gwil looks at him. “You do, don’t you?” he asks.

Rami opens his mouth to say something, and then he just smiles, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he says softly, “I’m still trying to decide.”

“Would getting rid of this help?” Gwil asks, lifting his hand to his face.

Rami nods. “One hundred percent.”

“Too bad,” Gwil says, taking another drink. He side-glances at Rami, trying to stifle his laugh.

“God,” Rami says, shaking his head. “I— whatever.” He grabs his own beer, and looks back at the TV. “I should have brought one too, we could have matched.”

“Oh, no,” Gwil says, “that would be weird.”

“Right,” Rami says flatly. “That would be weird.”