The thing that worried Miles the most about taking any further steps with Tristan was that it would mean losing his best friend. He wasn't exactly sure when Tris had even earned the title in the first place- but really when he narrowed down everyone he was friends with in any way, he was left with some ex-girlfriends, Zig Novak (that was saying something), and his sister's boyfriend.
And then there was Tristan.
Tristan who was sitting on his couch, pretending to take interest in the hockey game Miles had been watching while glancing at his magazine and most certainly not paying attention, reacting only to the loud cheers of the crowd whether or not it was the right team to have scored. The kind of behaviour that frustrated him coming from Frankie, the opposite of the over-enthusiastic Maya who swore to know all about the sport, and was somehow only endearing from Tristan. Yup, he liked him.
"I know you aren't watching the game, Tris," he said, playfully nudging him. Tristan nudged him back just as hard, restraining himself almost visibly from hitting him with the magazine.
"Shut up, I am too watching." Miles smiled, shaking his head. He was glad that they had retained their friendship, and the kisses they exchanged were really just a bonus. They still hadn't quite put a label on what they were, but it didn't seem to matter when they were together.
"Who's playing?"
"The red team and the blue team," Tristan said confidently. Miles cocked his head to one side as he looked at the boy, suppressing the urge to just kiss him then and there. Hockey was something he took seriously, goddamnit, so why did he not care at all that Tristan was so clueless? "You can tell me that was the wrong answer but it's the best you're going to get."
"It's not technically wrong," Miles allowed.
"I went to like, two Ice Hounds games with Maya. Still can't tell you any more than that there are guys on ice skates chasing around a puck."
"It's okay. I just like that you're here." Miles slid his hand over enough to brush Tristan's, happily accommodating the way that he grabbed it and laced their fingers together. "I don't hate myself when I'm around you," he said quietly, hoping that none of his family members were lurking. Tristan didn't reply, and he didn't need to. He just moved the slightest bit closer to Miles, leaning his head against his shoulder.
"I think you're the only person in the world who hates you."
"Maya might agree with me." Tristan all but winced at the name.
"Oh, we all agree that you're an asshole. Some of us just think you can be more than that when you want to be," Tristan said, "and none of us hate you."
"This is different," Miles thought aloud, turning to kiss the top of Tristan's head lightly.
"Because I'm a guy?"
"Because we're friends. Because you make me feel special and wanted. Because we can sit together and do nothing and it's still more fun than being in a whirlwind of girl drama." Tristan lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to Miles' mouth that he happily accepted. Kissing Tristan was different from kissing girls too- but not because he was a guy, but because it made him feel safe and loved.
It was too soon for love.
"Miles, what am I to you?" Tristan asked as they broke apart, returning his hands to his lap. Miles took a deep breath, unsure where to even begin. Being his boyfriend would ruin this whole thing.
"You're my Tristan," he said. He was met by an arched eyebrow and an almost sigh. "You- you mean the world to me, Tris, but I can't be your boyfriend. I'm not a good boyfriend. But I like what we have, and who needs labels anyway?" There was a moment of hesitation, and he expected the world would drop out from underneath him. Of course he had to be Tristan's boyfriend, there's no way he would ever agree to keep it quiet any longer.
"Okay, but if my brother asks, I'm getting laid."
"That's fine by me," Miles said, smiling at him. It only took Tristan a moment to return the grin, and he just couldn't help himself; it always felt so good to initiate the kisses with him.
