#podrickpaynest

There had been several occasions where Elton so desperately wanted to kiss Bernie. Just grab his beautiful face and smother him in gentle kisses. So many times Elton wanted to confess his feelings—that he really cared for Bernie as more than just a friend. But the pure terror of being rejected, or even worse, destroying their relationship, was enough to keep Elton at bay. He’d suffer through those little, almost romantic moments they’d share, ignoring his feelings just to ensure Bernie stayed. The last thing they needed was for their friendship to be ruined. There goes America. There goes song-writing duo. There goes their whole fucking career before it even starts.

So when the two find themselves on the rooftop of Arabella’s flat, Elton sits back and admires Bernie going on about America. The alcohol they had over dinner had already started wearing its way out of their systems, slowly bringing them back to reality. Though, if Elton were honest, he wish they could’ve gone back to their adventure home. Bernie had his arm linked with Eltons, jumping and skipping through the streets, belting out songs so out of tune it made passerby’s stop and stare. They had knocked over more trash bins than Elton could even count. Surely there weren’t really this many bins in the streets?

Bernie had finally plopped down, sitting beside Elton, their thighs ever so gently brushing against each other. As if on cue, they both raised their gazes, taking in the absolute masterpiece of stars painted on the black sky.

“Wide open spaces,” Bernie finally spoke. A smile crept upon Elton’s lips, returning his gaze to Bernie.

“I just hope I’ll be good enough.” The confession was something that had been prodding Elton’s mind ever since Dick first announced their shows at the Troubadour. America was a huge step, a gamble. One that Elton wasn’t sure he was ready to take. Yeah, he and Bernie had some amazing songs—but what if he just wasn’t enough?

“You joking mate? Y’know you—you’re a shit hot piano player, and there’s something magical that happens when you sing our songs.” The compliment forced a rosy blush to creep up Elton’s neck, and god he hoped it was too dark to allow Bernie to notice. Elton could only smile in response because seriously what was he supposed to say to that? Bernie seemed to notice Elton’s sudden apprehension, and without a second thought brought a comforting hand to rest on Elton’s knee. “It’s time for you to be upfront.” It was almost a command. The burning in Elton’s chest was becoming too much to ignore. Perhaps Bernie was right. As if losing all control over his body and senses, Elton slowly leaned in towards Bernie. His stare was fixated only on Bernie’s eyes, searching for a sign, an affirmation—anything. When Bernie didn’t respond or pull away, Elton continued, gaze dropping down to Bernie’s lips. God those soft, gentle lips he had thought of so many times before. He swiped his tongue over his lips.

Could this really be happening?

Time seemed to stand still. Bernie still seemed like an eternity away, but—was he leaning in too? Elton’s eyes shot up towards Bernie’s, who’s were now shut, and he was definitely leaning in. This was it. This was the moment. Their moment. The one Elton had been dreaming of. Be upfront. Tell him how you feel.

“Eltooooon,” Arabella’s voice suddenly cracked like thunder, making Elton and Bernie jump. “Time for beeeed,” her sing-song tone was enough to make Elton’s stomach turn. Of all times. Elton let out a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was to be with Arabella.

“Guess you uh—better get to her, then?” Bernie’s voice was so soft and weak it left a pain in Elton’s chest. Maybe Bernie didn’t actually want whatever this was. Maybe he had just gotten too caught up in the moment, and Arabella was what pulled him back to reality. Elton hung his head low, toying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, ‘spose you’re right.” Elton pushed himself off the ledge, about to make his way past Bernie, when the other grabbed his hand. Elton stopped dead in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“Reg—I...” His voice trailed off, leaving Elton nearly breathless. Bernie almost never called him Reg, out of respect for his wishes on being called Elton. But the way Reg rolled so seamlessly off his lips, Elton hoped Bernie would say it again.

“Yes?” Elton asked, eyes quickly darting to his hand, which Bernie was still clutching.

“Just—don’t be so hard on yourself.” Bernie gave a gentle shake at Elton’s hand before releasing his grip. Elton’s heart sank. He offered Bernie a weak smile before retreating inside.

As Elton entered Arabella’s bedroom, he couldn’t help the sigh of relief upon the sight of a sleeping Arabella—an unfinished glass of wine at her bedside table. Thank god. Truthfully, Elton just did not have the energy for her, especially tonight. Arabella was a very kind, thoughtful person. She was nice enough to allow Bernie and Elton into her home, and almost never complained of the noise—except for just a few hours ago when Elton and Bernie had knocked over every single trash bin on the steps, probably waking the entire street.

But why Elton agreed to have Arabella as his girlfriend? He couldn’t for the life of him figure it out. Perhaps it was a chance to be normal? Maybe because it was nice to feel wanted? But as his heart longed for someone else, he couldn’t bear the thought of being with Arabella a moment longer.

Elton quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, a tee-shirt and a simple pair of pajama pants. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep any time soon, not with the millions of thoughts racing through his mind—Bernie, the rooftop, whatever the hell was about to happen between them before Arabella cut in.

It wasn’t abnormal for Elton to just pop into Bernie’s room at random. In fact, Elton was sure Bernie probably anticipated it most days because it happened so frequently. But for some reason, the short walk down the hall from Arabella’s room to Bernie’s felt particularly long. With each step, Elton could feel his chest growing heavier. He shouldn’t have been nervous. It’s just Bernie, he tried reminding himself. But, it wasn’t just Bernie anymore. It was Bernie, his best friend. His song-writing partner. The man he almost just kissed, and who almost kissed him back. It didn’t feel real.

Elton gave a single knock to Bernie’s door, not waiting for a response as he immediately let himself in. Bernie was sat at the edge of his bed, a notepad and pencil in hand, and god, Elton loved the sight of him writing. Bernie’s lyrics were always so beautiful, and they told a story. And whenever Elton laid eyes on them, he immediately picked up the tune. He wasn’t sure how that happened, maybe fate, or magic? But he hoped it never went away.

“Hey,” Elton offered weakly, shutting the door behind him. Bernie returned with his signature smile, and Elton’s heart melted. The notepad and pencil were set to the side, Bernie offering Elton a spot on the bed beside him. A hard lump formed in his chest. He made his way over the the mattress, sitting down carefully.

“Hey,” Bernie finally replied, once Elton was close. “Already finished with Arabella?” An amused smile on Bernie’s lips.

“She was asleep by the time I came down,” Elton explained, mindlessly picking at a hangnail. Anyone else probably would have felt uncomfortable by the small talk. But with Bernie, it was easy. Whether they were going on for hours about anything and everything, or just sitting in silence, it was all comfortable.

“You good?” Bernie turned so he was facing Elton straight on, face turned to worry. As much as Elton adored Bernie, he almost hated how Bernie could pick up on everything. He always knew when Elton was feeling down, or off. He supposed he should probably be grateful that someone paid such close attention to him.

Elton sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, rolling it carefully. Be upfront. The words rang through his head, his chest pounding. It was now or never. Without second thought, Elton grabbed Bernie’s face, smashing their lips together in a abrupt, sloppy kiss. Bernie jumped at the initial contact, but didn’t move away. Elton brushed his thumb carefully over Bernie’s cheeks, holding the kiss for just a few seconds more before pulling away. His face was flushed a deep pink, glasses now slightly eschew on his nose.

“I’m doing much better now,” Elton replied through swollen lips, smiling so wide it showed his teeth. Bernie looked stunned. He sat there, motionless, his lips also just as red and puffy as Elton’s and shit that was a good look on him. But his lack of movement or response was concerning, quickly bringing Elton down from the quick high of the kiss. “Are you okay?” Elton asked, about to scoot further away from Bernie, when suddenly the younger man grabbed his arm, pulling him back in for another kiss.

This time when their lips met, it wasn’t needy. It wasn’t desperate and sloppy. It was warm. It was collected. Bernie knew exactly what he was doing. His strong hand cupped Elton’s cheek, deepening the kiss. Elton hummed against Bernie, melting effortlessly into the other. His chest was ready to explode. Finally.

When Bernie pulled away, he rest his forehead to Elton’s, the two heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Elton couldn’t hide the big, goofy smile even if he tried, and he was relieved to find the Bernie was sporting one of his own.

“Doing great,” Bernie finally spoke, breaking out in a soft chuckle before placing a soft kiss to the side of Elton’s mouth. “I suppose you probably ought to consider talking to Arabella though.” Elton rolled his eyes, pulling Bernie back on the bed so they were both lying down in each other’s arms.