But this time the effect is unintentional. It’s late but they’re still recording, both of them stupid high on sugar and probably not half as funny as they think they are, laughing hysterically over a stupid thing neither of them can fully remember, and suddenly Dan’s talking dirty to the microphone again.

He does this all the time, gets in real close and whispers ridiculous things in that low half-whisper, letting his voice caress the words. The whole time he’s struggling, trying really hard not to laugh, not to let his mirth bleed through into his words. And usually, Arin’s laughing along too, but this time he hasn’t said anything, hasn’t made a single sound, for upwards of a minute. Dan doesn’t really make much of that, supposes he’s probably just tired or out of it, but spares a glance at him anyway. That’s about the time Danny registers that he’s probably made a huge mistake, stuttering mid-sentence before going completely silent.

Arin’s looking right back at him, and even in the minimal light, Dan can see that he’s blushing. His eyes are half-closed, pupils blown, and there’s no denying they’re centered right on Danny’s bottom lip, teeth worrying at his own. Dan’s gaze involuntarily drops to his groin and holy shit, Arin’s definitely at half-mast. It’s with equal parts pride and absolute terror that Dan thinks “that’s my fault, I did that.”

The rational part of his brain is struggling to come up with a response to this, because on one hand, what the fuck, he’s straight, always has been straight, straighter than a fucking arrow, but on the other…

It’s not like he can pretend that Arin’s little smirk has never made his heart race, has never made him breathe just a little bit faster, and god, the way Arin’s looking at him now-