#wes x reader

WES HICKS AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is the exact definition of puppy love seen in teenagers.

he’s liked you for as long as he can remember and there isn’t a single unpleasant memory of you in his mind. he was always scared to make a move but that doesn’t mean the feelings weren’t there.

his body seemed to naturally tilt in your direction when you were in a room together, and his attention would dart entirely to you when you spoke up. he listened closely to everything you said, encouraging your stories, asking questions and overall being an avid listener.

he was your biggest supporter and number one fan. he always felt so tingly and had a light feeling in his heart when you would smile at him or even grace your knuckles against his skin.

that being said, the day he asked you out and you actually said yes, he was stunned. fully embracing for your rejection and the humiliation that comes afterwards, he thought for a moment he must be dreaming.

wes is the sweetest boy you’ve ever met and a natural gentleman. holding doors open for you, helping you carry your bags when shopping, braiding a section of your hair for you and planting kisses to the back of your hand.

he’s also extremely supportive and a well educated man. thanks to growing up in a household with just his mother he’s more in touch with his sensitive side and knows a great deal about the female body.

very well spoken. wes is great at expressing how he is feeling with his words, his struggle is when it comes to actually saying them. he gets nervous about speaking up about how he feels sometimes but when he does he’s very clear about it all.

hicks is more of a stay in and enjoy each others company kind of guy, he loves having alone time with you, but he’ll have fun anywhere so long as you’re next to him.

you guys have tons of random cute dates that are more like married couple activities. going grocery shopping, getting a car fixed together, going to the gym, heading to the pharmacist, etc. wes is just always there and you guys do solo activities as a duo.

of course that doesn’t mean you guys won’t go out on the normal cute coupley dates. wes loves to go to carnivals, fairs and the arcade and you often find yourself making frequent visits to similar settings.

there’s no honeymoon phase with wes because he acts exactly the same throughout the relationship as he treats you at the start. he opens doors for you, walks you to class, always pays the bill, surprises you with small gifts, and pretty much makes you his top priority.

he’s liked girls before and has been in talking stages but he’s never been in a serious relationship like the one you’re in now so he puts his absolute all into it. he loves spoiling you so much by doing things like making you a gift basket or doing your homework for you after you fall asleep, from things ranging to gifts to acts of service.

you can see the way he feels about you just by the look in his eyes. he always has a permanent toothless smile painted on his face when you’re around and his eyes glisten and practically sparkle when they look at you. you can very easily see the love in his eyes, especially when you start talking.

he can be pretty shy when it comes to pda but he won’t mind small things like holding hands or a quick peck to the lips. he doesn’t like to be too touchy when out in the open and prefers to keep the physical part of your relationship for behind closed doors when it’s just the two of you.

wes holds you to such a high pedestal. you are literally never incorrect in his mind. if someone tries to say otherwise he is fast to jump in and defend your name like you were actually about to get canceled online for something serious, even if it was just because you solved a math question wrong and someone corrected you. he would rediscover math in a way that would make you right.

i dont see him as using social media very much, he probably has your initial and a <3 next to it in his Instagram bio at the least though.

your protector. you will never find someone who genuinely cares about your mental and physical being so much. he is always looking after you, whether you’re having a bad day with thoughts or if your life is actively in danger, he’s the one to count on.

he is constantly asking if you’re okay. if he notices your vibe is just a little bit off he will text you a short paragraph later on asking what’s up even if nothing is wrong.

honestly very sensitive when it comes to you. you matter the most to him out of everyone and so he clings off every sentence you say. like if you compliment his appearance one day and then don’t the next, the next day all he’ll think about is how he probably looked ugly. or if you jokingly make fun of one of his shirts for being plain you will find that he never wears that shirt again. he just wants to impress you.

you have so much power over him because of how much effort he’s putting into the relationship. he genuinely sees his whole future with you and has pictured the wedding and everything.

everything reminds him of you. you will get texts throughout the day of pictures he took of something random or links to things with a ‘this made me think about you’ text.

he loves sending you pictures of the sky. i can imagine him snapping a photo almost every other day and sending it to you, talking about how pretty the sunrise or sunset looked that day.

he’s not a very jealous boyfriend but he is insecure. he doesn’t get upset over you or mad at the person he’s jealous about but rather becomes very critical of himself. thinking about how he’s not good enough for you, how you and whoever would look so much better together, that he’s too boring for you, wtv.

having your go-to artists together. you and wes definitely have picked at least 1-5 musicians and bands that you listen to everytime your together. or certain songs that makes you think of each other. does anyone else get the vibe he’d listen to tv girl?

you both have a ritualistic habit of texting goodnight and good morning. the good morning texts are usually never an issue, but there have been times he sleep deprives himself at night waiting on your response to his goodnight while you’re already sound asleep and just forgot to respond. he usually passes out early anyway though, i dont imagine wes to be the type to stay up super late normally. he probably has a normal sleeping schedule, like anywhere from 9 to 11 pm.

having your own shows and movies you watch together are a must. wes is a huge fan of all of the classic blockbusters, like star wars, the godfather, sappy shit like titanic or notebook, wizard of oz, et, groundhog day, etc.

studying together! both library dates and going over to each others houses. the thing with wes is that if you say you’re studying, you’re studying. he is actually a good student and tries very hard with schoolwork, taking it seriously. this is not to say that you being there won’t distract him on occasion, because it definitely will, and you definitely have the power to pull his mind away, but he will ultimately actually try to do work. and don’t expect anything besides maybe a 3 minute make out sesh before he’s working again.

every special occasion is spent together. all holidays you’re invited into his home with open arms, and if you’re not able to go over to his hes negotiating any way for him to be able to attend whatever you were doing. whether it’s for halloween or fourth of july, he wants to spend the day with you.

texting all the time. literally all the time; on top of hanging out all the time. you guys are always talking, and he loves to text you and be informed about gossip or anything going on in your day. he will grasp for any details he can get.

he is SO ATTENTIVE when you are upset, on your cycle, angry, having an episode, etc. like seriously, it’s like he always knows what to say or ask to make you feel better. and hes always more than prepared to make a quick trip to a nearby store for some snacks or a cheap card game or something to take your mind off things.

going over to each others houses even if the other wasn’t home yet. his mom even offered to just make you a spare key and has gotten used to you entering her house before her own son does to go lay in his bed till he got home. hes comfortable letting you just wait in his room for him, and you get the chance to be nosy and snoop if you want while also enjoying the coziness of your boyfriends room; so win win!!!!!

oh matching pajamas FOR SURE! hes definitely a sucker for having a shared fuzzy pjs set, especially when you get to wear them out or to college. and when you guys are matching you bet hes gonna want to hold your hand the entire day, just so that anyone who saw you guys in case they didn’t get the memo before that you were together would now…..

definitely much more talkative when it’s just the two of you. when you guys are out with other friends hes more reserved and will just stick to your side, only really talking to you and even then will be less vocal as you guys are out. but the moment it’s just the two of you he is so much more expressive and open.

hes got a photo album of you that he loves to look at; on top of having you as his homescreen, and probably a few polaroids up of the two of you on his bedroom walls.

NSFW !!

DUDE!!!! AFTERCARE GALORE!!!! THIS MAN HAS BEEN RAISED RIGHT AND PROPER!!!!

he is so attentive to your needs and what you want, and the whole experience he spends tending to you and making sure you feel comfortable.

puts a pillow under ur back ❤️.

loves to let you be a pillow princess. hes a soft dom for sure, though wouldn’t mind letting you take charge from time to time if that’s what you wanted. but he loves taking care of you and doing all of the work so he gets to see your every reaction

i see him as probably sort of whiney in bed. he’ll try to bury his head in a pillow or your neck while hes fucking you to stifle his noises

loves giving. like ofc he’ll happily receive, but he genuinely enjoys giving more than he does receiving. he loves giving you head and servicing you, knowing hes the one who’s making your body feel so good just drives him fucking wild

he could do it for the entire day if he could. just lapping you up for hours and hours while you beg for him to give you a break.

always prepared, always uses protection (unless you ask!), and always has the necessary materials nearby.

big cuddler after as well. he just wants to hold you and go the fuck to sleep once you guys are both taken care of

started 8.07.23. finished 11.10.24.

( scream masterlist )

©️ nolovelingers 2024

You met Wes in France seven years ago after moving there from America. You wanted to work as a performer however you didn’t find that much success in America so you moved to France. You tried to learn all the languages you’ll need before moving, one of them being LSF. You didn’t know ASL or completely knew French so learning LSF was difficult to say the least, but in hindsight it was probably one of your best decisions. You learned all of this mainly because you didn’t want to stand out all too much, well as much as you already did as a performer.

You bumped into Wes after a somewhat successful performance, enough to keep yourself housed and fed for a good while. You tried to talk to him in French, though he signed to you, “I doubt you understand LSF since you have an American accent but do you?”

Your immediate response, not even responding to the question he asked, “I have an American accent?”

Oh god the way his eyes shimmered like a kid on Christmas when you responded. He smiled so much his dimples showed as he responded, “Yeah, you sound breathy. It’s a bit hard to understand.”

“Breathy? What do you mean breathy?”

“Sounds like you’re.” He pauses his hand movements trying to find his words, “Breathing in between your sentences.”

You smiled at him as he smiled at you.

As you got to know him, the more you could say you fell for him. According to him, he has been mute since his birth so he decided to become a mime, he had gotten so good at being a mime it might as well be magic. The reason why is according to him, ‘C’est la vie’ or roughly meaning, ‘That’s just life; you got to work with it.’ The thing you always wondered is how he got his balloons to float without helium. However, every time you asked him how he did it, he’d sign to you, “A good performer never tells their secrets,” with a shit eating grin.

Even today, as you are collecting materials and finding ways to keep them on you, you still wonder about the logistics of that. Why you were thinking of that of all things instead of looking for shelter or food was probably a way to cope with the situation you are in. The sun went down as you picked the rock down little by little, you could hear the sound of bat screeches but you ignored it. Your hands hurt from the work on not only chopping down the trees but picking rocks. Your sticks were held together by you wrapping them with the grass which was surprisingly sturdy for grass. You went back to reminiscing about the past as you continued working.

You remembered the day you two became a couple like it was yesterday, it wasn’t particularly a beautiful day with storm clouds slowly rolling in. You both had a failed performance, what made it worse was the rain that came through which just completely ruined any chances of continuing, so you both sat on a bench under Wes’ umbrella. Wes’ makeup was ruined, his mascara and face paint washing away from the rain, it slowly dropped down in streaks to the bottom of his chin. It was attractive to you, however you knew that Wes didn’t agree with that sentiment based on the way he acted so you decided not to bring it up. He tried to communicate one letter at a time because his other hand had his umbrella, but you gently took the umbrella to allow him to fully converse with you. He signed, “Thank you.”

He started the conversation by signing, “Hopefully your performance was at least a bit better than what happened to me.”

“Well…” You looked to the sky, “the rain ruined it.”

“Yeah, me too. Well as you can obviously see.” He gestured to his face as he continued to sign, “My whole act was ruined, considering my makeup is melting off.”

He sighed, as the two of you remained in relative silence. You could see his cheeks blush a bit thanks to the rain wiping away the white face paint. It was a light dusting sure, but you can totally see it, so against better judgment you asked him, “Are you embarrassed?”

“What? No. No, absolutely not.” He signed quickly, so fast it was hard to pick up what he was saying, “What made you say that?”

“Well, I-“ you cleared your throat, “saw you were red in the face and just wanted to check in.”

It took a bit for him to respond, taking a deep breath he signed, “I love you.”

Your heart was going miles an hour as he continued, “For a while actually and,” He pauses his movements, “it’s just so amazing to be around you. I don’t really know if I am saying I love you too early but I don’t have the heart to care. So, do you love me like I love you?”

He was looking away from you before you gently moved his chin to look at you. A smile spread across his face as he kissed you on the lips and you reciprocated it. You were there for a while locked into each other’s lips as the sound of water tapping on Wes’ umbrella continued. Once you pulled away, you answered, “Of course. Of course I love you like you imagine Wes”

Another one of his shit eating grins spread across his face as he signed, “Good luck trying to clean off your face.”

You slowly wiped your lips only to find his stained lipstick on there, and all you could do was smile and teased, “You’re a piece of shit and I love you.”

As the relationship grew and grew, you always noticed how physically affectionate he was. Walking down the streets of France while holding his gloved hand, often hugging you tightly, and kisses dear god. You love the man so much and he loved you too, but the way his makeup stains your face was obvious and clear. Obviously he was super apologetic about it after you told him about the dilemma, trying to only kiss you when he had his makeup off.

Speaking of his makeup off, you got to see a lot more of that when he wasn’t on the street. Especially just lying next to you in your humble abode, cuddling with you over the soft sounds of the radio. Kissing along the back of your neck keeping you tightly in his arms. He always somehow lazily signed to you, “I love you.”

Your home essentially became his as he brought gifts to you after performing. Sometimes it was some pastries to share, sometimes it was nice daisies, sometimes he did a balloon trick. Essentially, a roll of the dice of what he’ll do when he gets home between sharing and enjoying something with you or just cuddling until he falls asleep. Though after a complete flop of a performance, being a shoulder to cry on was nice but you also cried on his shoulders when you needed to.

So of course, it was only a matter of time before he proposed. After almost four years of being with you, he cleaned his late mother’s ring, and came looking for you. You were performing on stage, as you were finishing up you heard footsteps from behind your makeshift stage. Seeing Wes was a comfort to you and then seeing him pull out a ring made you instantly hug him. Although that stunt caused you both to be injured in some way because you basically jumped on him, you accepted it with a giggle over the situation. You both knew that marrying each other now would cause major debt, so you decided to keep each other as just fiancés.

But then. It all was taken away from you.

Gone.

His life was taken away from you like a popped balloon.

The police showed up to your home and asked for your account for the disappearance of Wes. Your Fiancé. Obviously you were worried, desperate to find out what happened, but the verdict they settled on was infuriating. After he traveled into the alleyway, he was stabbed to death and brought someplace else, well at least that was the verdict the police settled on. Having his funeral only a week after the verdict to just move along. You obviously tried to argue with police after they had the verdict chosen.

“C’est la vie. You’ll find another love someday.”

You went to the county jail for violence against a police officer, specifically punching them directly in the jaw. It was worth every minute of community service you had to do. Why would anyone say that? Especially to someone who is grieving? It just solidifies the fact that something is wrong with what they described his supposed death. So after dealing with a lot of legal jargon, your next priority was figuring out what actually happened.

You went to talk to George T. Witherstone, a man that was also interviewed by police in the disappearance of your fiancé. However, George was a sleeze, who was connected to a much more famous performer who had disappeared named Maxwell. Maxwell and his assistant Charlie were both famous magicians that had kick started the careers of many famous performers such as yourself, but what George said clicked for you, “Well William Carter couldn’t pay his debts to me, frustrating I know.”

William Carter? That was his full name? The rest of what he was talking about was nothing but a blur as you fixated on that specifically.

Well there was no use in interrogating George when you began to run out of money to live in France. So, with all of the money you had left to your name, you went back to the United States to live with your family. You wanted to stay in France, but you had to go back, much to the disappointment of your family. However, hindsight is 20/20, so what was really a horrible thing turned out to be the very thing that brought you to where you were now.

You began searching through past magazines in your library about William Carter, continuing to connect the pieces together. Finding article upon article about Maxwell and Charlie’s disappearance, though you also found out about a strong man named Wolfgang saving William Carter’s life. You search through articles about him, he disappeared. In fact, the weirdest part about the whole thing is that the people with the weirdest disappearances always had a W at the beginning of their name.

Like Wes.

You snapped out of your own memories as you began to tinder a fire, being slow and calculating as you made sure that your makeshift torch would set aflame. You see the sun slowly setting until it turned night, the moon a crescent in the sky. You had to keep moving, you had to.

When you were searching through possible leads, the only one you could settle on was Wilson. Most of the rest didn’t have as much of their location or history out to the world. Especially Maxwell, whose house had been turned into a museum for himself. So, taking up a backpack, and using the knowledge you had, you went towards the shack that sat upon a hill which took you three hours to get there by car. You opened the door to find papers scattered across the floor, the sound of radio static, and a machine, massive in scale with a leaver. Against everything in your gut telling you otherwise, you flicked it.

Everything went to nothing, not black, just nothing. As if you were to close one eye, but for both eyes. Just nothing. Until there was something.

Which leads to now, where you continued to move forward until you saw dawn. As the morning began, you heard idle chatter through one person. Probably in his mid-thirties, most definitely tired and exhausted, just average overall. You decided to eavesdrop on the conversation, just letting the words come through.

“So Wes any objections to that plan of action?”

Silence.

“I am taking your silence as yes.”

Then the shuffling of two people’s feet. Almost as desperate as you were beginning your adventure you almost screamed out, “Wes?!”

You heard the sound of running as you got hugged by Wes. His arms felt just as great as you remembered them. You were surprised though, causing you to fall on your ass, but there was laughter involved in it all. Just like the day he proposed.

If you were asked to do it again to see those glittering eyes again, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

Cross-posted to AO3

“Oh, God…” The words trailed off my tongue as I took in the sight before me, a chapel decorated with rows of horrifying masks on planks. The sight left me sick to my stomach, a fear building within. The fear I felt when I had been locked in the confession booth was nothing compared to this.

I knew I had to run, scream, flee, whatever, but my body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. I wasn’t like Imogen or Faran, I didn’t have an inner strength that went on for miles - I was just a shallow theatre kid.

My hand slowly left my mouth as I stumbled backwards, screaming inwardly at myself to run. My ill-planned means of escape were thwarted when my back hit something cold and hard behind me. I spun around in shock, gasping desperately as I found Archie Waters standing before me. I had never been so close to him, to seeing the mask, and bile threatened to spill out of me as I shuffled backwards, hands desperately reaching for a means of self-defence that didn’t exist.

“Get the fucking way of me!” I suddenly gripped a piece of a bench beside me, that ripped away with a shocking easiness. “I’ll fucking kill you!” My threats were a clear juxtaposition to the tears now freely running down my face. It was clear to both of us that I wasn’t capable of defending myself, never mind killing someone.

However hopeless I felt, it increased tenfold when the doors at the end of the church suddenly swung open, to reveal multiple men in horrifying masks swarm in, led by Bloody Rose. “No, no…” I sobbed quietly, continuing my walk backwards, my eyes beginning to burn from how much they were popping out of my skull in shock. “Please, just stay back!”

I tried desperately to think of a way to escape, to prove myself a final girl just like the rest of the group. My eyes desperately scanned the building for a means of escape, as the silent Archie tilted his head, now standing before his allies. The image of him surrounded by his peers made it clear to me that I was all alone in this, and only I could save myself. The sudden rush of survival instincts led to my eyes landing on the giant stained-glass windows, and despite not knowing what floor we were on, I took off without hesitation.

My lungs burned as I ran at full speed towards my potential doom, the sound of deafening footsteps echoing behind me. I reached out desperately for the escape when suddenly, masculine hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me backwards harshly, sending both me and my assailant to the floor.

My head hit the floor with a bang, and for a moment, I could taste blood. The world tilted on its axis as I tried to sit back up, but something I couldn’t quite pin struck me across the face, my face erupting in pain. My dizziness was staggering, and I could only dumbly look up at the figures standing above me as my vision cleared.

The sudden realisation it was Archie Waters and Bloody Rose standing side by side, sent me clumsily reaching for the wood I had dropped - only for my efforts to be foiled by the boogeyman himself stepping onto my hand, causing a sickening crunch. “FUCK! Fucking fuck!” I wailed desperately, my words coming out a spluttering mess as I cradled my limp hand.

“Why?!” My question was even a surprise to myself, my entire body burning in agony as I managed to sit up. “Why are you doing this, you sick fucks?!”

My breath caught in my throat as Archie suddenly reached towards his mask, and pulled it backwards to reveal - Wes. Tabby’s micro-aggressive, misogynistic manager at the Orpheum. I stared in disbelief as memories of our previous encounters raced back to me. His flirty yet inappropriate remarks, his offers of casting me in a movie, his lingering glances.

“Because, gorgeous, before there can be a final girl…” Wes reached into his pocket, and I flinched, assuming the worst. When he pulled out a camera, my fears were proven right. “The dumb slut has to die.” My face flushed a dark red, blushing in embarrassment at his words - at the entire situation.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what was happening. “But this is…this is my final girl test.”

He scoffed with delight, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You don’t have what it takes to be a final girl. That’s as clear as day.” I swallowed nervously, plagued with memories of being overlooked to play the main character in Tabby’s many short films, despite being the only one with acting experience among our friend group.

“Final girls are a beacon of light, of innocence. They overcome their ordeal because they are good, pretty, little virgins.” His hand that held the knife suddenly pointed it at me, close enough to send a shiver down my spine. “But you’re vain and shallow.” Wes crouched down suddenly, his face mere inches away from my own. “And everyone knows you’ve spread your legs for half the guys in this town.”

I flinched at his words, my mouth turning dry. “That’s not true, I’m-“ My words were cut short when suddenly the knife was pushed onto my cheek, moments away from being deep enough to draw blood.

He continued his misogynistic monologue, staring into my undoubtedly fear-filled eyes. “Basically every guy but me - and God knows, I’ve given you plenty of chances.” He began to drag the knife downwards to my chin, a silent threat that he could kill me and not break a sweat. “It’s always the biggest sluts who act high and mighty.”

“But despite that, really, I’m giving you what you always wanted.” I blinked in confusion, as he drew the weapon away and stood up. Wes titled his head once again, though, without the mask, his smirk was clear as day. “You’re going to be the star of your very own movie.”

Am I just making this post so I can end up back in the tags to reach new fans? Mind your business. But also - hi new fans! I'm considering writing another fic for him sometime this month (based on S2), so let me know if you're interested.

If you're interested in other characters, feel free to check out my Other MGG Characters Masterlist here!

I swallowed roughly as my bag fell to the ground between my feet. The least the owners could do is get their dogs to be quiet. They were doing the bare freaking minimum and I was still dying. Like on what planet is it okay to just let your dogs bark in a public place like this? I looked back down at my opened back and shook my head. I went to zip it up and place it on the seat beside me. But the tightness in my chest got tighter and the dogs barking seemed to get louder. Finally giving up on thinking I was fine, I pulled my feet up on my seat and pressed my hands over my ears. I tried drowning out the loudness by humming softly to myself, but even that didn’t work. My head fell forward and rested against my knees.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, I whispered to myself as I closed my eyes.

It felt like an eternity. But in reality, it was probably no more than five minutes. I really hated waiting when I was stuck like this in a public place with really no out.

“I don’t know what happened. They came in and they were just fine,” I could hear the secretary explain to someone.

“I think I know what happened. Thanks, Jenny,” then I heard Wes’ voice speak. I swallowed roughly as I heard him pick up my backpack and sit beside me. That was when all the dogs around me finally stopped barking. “Hey, Honey,” he whispered, trying to encourage me to look back at him. I swallowed roughly and turned my head slightly to look at him. I kept my hands firmly on my ears once I was looking at him. The concern on his face only mildly scared me.

“It’s loud,” I said softly. Wes nodded as he looked over at the dogs. “And I forgot my headphones at home,” I then added when he looked back at me.

“Do you like cats?” He asked as he leaned closer to me. I stared at him, confused because I didn’t 100% hear what he said. So I leaned closer and shouted.

“WHAT?”

Wes stared at me with a small smile. “WE HAVE A ROOM WITH A BUNCH OF KITTENS! LET’S GO SEE THEM! OKAY!?” He shouted. A small smile grew across my lips as I nodded. Wes stood up, throwing my backpack over his shoulders, before extending a hand out to me. I smiled before carefully placing a hand on his. I stayed quiet as he lead me out of the waiting room and towards the back, away from the barking dogs.

“Why do you have a room full of kittens?” I asked as we stepped into the furthest exam room. And just like Wes had said, there were a bunch of kittens playing/sleeping/walking around a smalled penned-off area. They couldn’t have been too old. Obviously old enough to be without their mother.

“Their mom got pretty sick and we couldn’t find a foster home to take care of them. So a couple of us in the clinic decided to take turns bringing them home at night and bringing them back here during the day,” Wes explained as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I swallowed roughly, keeping my eyes on the babies in front of me. “Tonight’s my turn to take them home if you wanted to come over tonight.”

“REALLY!?” I shouted as I looked over at him. Wes looked back at me and nodded.

“Yes really. Only if you want. You can spend the night too if you wanted,” he offered as he walked towards the pen. I swallowed roughly and watched as he stepped into the pen. He was more than gentle as he scooped one of the kittens into his arms and came back over to me. “I know it’d be the first night over at my house, but that’s okay too. If you just wanted to just come over, play with the kittens, eat dinner, and watch a movie, I’d be okay with that too. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he explained as he carefully offered me the kitten. Instead of looking at the kitten, I looked at him and smiled.

“I wanna spend the night with you, Wes,” I said softly as I looked down at the small squirming kitten. He looked back at me with an excited smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye. I ignored him though as I tried scooping the kitten from his arms. “Oh, he’s soft.”

“I’ll make sure Ollie’s on his best behavior,” Wes whispered as I held the kitten close to my body. “If I had known having a litter of kittens in my house would’ve gotten you to spend the night, I would’ve done it sooner,” he then chuckled. I looked at him and smiled.

“Can I sit with them?” I asked, looking over at him with a small smile. Wes laughed, not completely taken aback by my change in subject.

“Of course, you can. C’mon,” he whispered as he took my hand and helped me over to the pen. We both sat down in the pen, and I was instantly covered in kittens. “It’s nice seeing you this happy, Honey,” he said with a smile as all of the kittens sat in my lap. I smiled back at him and nodded.

“I’m sure it has everything to do with the kittens,” I teased. Wes smiled before leaning forward to press his lips to mine.

{***}{***}{***}

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.