It was nearly eleven o'clock Sunday night when Ian got a text from Anthony.
Can I crash at your place again tonight?
Sure, Ian replied. It wasn't like he was doing much anyway; he was eating cereal on the couch wearing nothing but sweatpants.
"I'm such a loser," he muttered aloud. He got up, dumping the milk from his cereal down the drain and heading to his room to find a shirt. He grabbed the first thing he found – a plain white t-shirt – and ran a comb through his hair. Good enough.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Ian hurried to the living room and pulled it open. Anthony stepped inside, staggering under the weight of several bags.
"What's all this?" Ian asked, grabbing a few of the bags for him.
Anthony grinned sheepishly. "All my concert clothes. I usually keep them at Kyle's house, but I brought them with me. I was hoping you could help me pick out an outfit for the concert. You know, since it's tomorrow night and everything."
Ian laughed. "From the looks of those bags, it might take us until tomorrow night to pick one."
Anthony pouted. "Come on, please? I can't make decisions by myself!"
Ian couldn't resist. "Okay, fine," he said, smiling. "Show me what you've got."
-x-
Ian stared at the layer of shirts and pants covering the guest room bed. They'd already gone through and rejected half of Anthony's concert clothes.
"Do you have to be so damn concerned with your appearance?" Ian grumbled, half-joking. "I picked out my outfit yesterday. It's called jeans and a t-shirt."
"Sorry," Anthony said, blushing a little. "I like to look good in case…" he trailed off.
"In case what?" Ian asked, curious.
"In case I meet someone," Anthony said, shrugging. "But, I mean, I'm not looking to do that this week. Or anytime soon. I don't want to hook up with some random guy. I…" he shook his head. "Never mind. What shirt would go best with the black jeans?"
Ian tried to ignore the relief he felt at the news that Anthony wasn't looking to hook up with anyone. He grabbed several shirts off the bed; a red silk button-up, a white dress shirt, and a blue-and-white checkered flannel.
"Any of these," he replied, holding them up. Anthony looked at them, nodding.
"Alright," he said. "I'm gonna try them on now."
"Sure," Ian said, and headed for the door. "Come out and show me when you decide."
"I will," Anthony said. Ian pulled the door shut behind him. He slumped against the wall of the hallway, sighing. His crush on Anthony was getting easier to manage – he felt like they were finally getting somewhere as friends – but God, he was still so attracted to him.
Just get over it, he told himself, but it was easier said than done. He shook his head and stared at the closed door, waiting for Anthony to finish changing.
Finally, he stepped out of the bedroom.
"What do you think?" he asked, grinning slightly.
Ian was speechless. Anthony was wearing the white-button up shirt, untucked at the waist and unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black jeans were skin-tight, hugging every curve of his slender frame. He looked amazing.
"Um," Ian said. "Your collar's kind of sticking up."
"Damnit," Anthony said, reaching behind his neck and trying to fix it.
"Here," Ian offered, "let me help." He stepped forward to adjust the collar, smoothing it down in the back. Suddenly they were very close.
"Thanks," Anthony replied softly, and Ian looked up without thinking. Their faces were only inches apart.
"No problem," Ian whispered. His heart was suddenly pounding against his ribcage.
I could do it, he thought wildly. I could lean in right now, I could just –
Anthony's cell phone rang, and they both jumped, backing away. Anthony shot Ian an awkward smile and answered the phone.
"Hey, Kyle."
Pause.
"Yeah, I know we have a show tomorrow night. We've kind of been practicing for it all week."
Pause.
"Sure, what did you have in mind?"
Pause.
"A fancy restaurant? Really? I'm pretty sure most bands hit the bar afterwards."
Pause.
"Fine, fine."
Pause.
"No problem. We'll see you then."
He hung up.
"What was that all about?" Ian asked, trying to sound casual.
"Kyle booked us dinner reservations at some fancy restaurant for after the show." He laughed. "Apparently we're a classy fucking band."
Ian raised his eyebrows. "He had to call at –" he checked his watch, "- nearly one a.m. to tell us that?"
"I guess he was excited," Anthony replied, shrugging. "Hey, are you tired?"
"Not really," Ian said. "Why?"
"Wanna go watch TV or something?"
"Yeah, alright," Ian said, smiling.
"I'll be right there," Anthony said. "I'm just gonna change into something less… you know."
Ian laughed and headed out to the living room, flopping onto the couch and flicking through the TV channels, trying to find something to watch. A wave of exhaustion had suddenly crashed over him; he could barely keep his eyes open. He put the remote down, settling for some old sitcom re-runs.
Anthony appeared in the doorway of the living room, wearing green plaid pajama pants and a black V-neck t-shirt. He looked adorable. Ian was too tired to try to ignore that thought. He just smiled at Anthony, propping himself up into a sitting position. Anthony sat down next to him.
"What are we watching?" he asked.
"Whatever this is," Ian replied, yawning as he gestured at the TV.
"Sounds good," Anthony replied, and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. Ian noticed how close together they were; nearly half the couch was left empty on the other side of Anthony.
Ian tried to concentrate on the TV show, but his eyes kept trying to slip shut. He could feel Anthony next to him, warm and soft and inviting. As the last of his consciousness slipped away, his head found its way to Anthony's shoulder, and he let out a contented sigh. Then he was fast asleep.
-x-
Anthony jumped a little as he felt Ian's head touch his shoulder.
"You asleep?" he asked quietly. Ian didn't respond, which Anthony took as a yes. God, he looked so gorgeous when he slept. Anthony stroked his hair gently, trying not to wake him up.
I should've kissed him earlier, he thought sadly. Stupid phone call. He knew he'd probably never get a chance like that again; it seemed to perfect, with Ian looking up at him, arms around his neck as he fixed his collar… it would have been so easy to lean in, to close that gap of a few inches, and if Ian had freaked out or backed away, he could've said it was an accident and there was a slight chance that it might've been believable. Damnit.
He sighed. Oh well. Maybe he'd never get his chance with Ian, but he could still enjoy this moment. He breathed in the scent of Ian's hair, smiling to himself as he snuggled closer. He rested his own head against Ian's, closed his eyes, and let himself begin to drift off.
I've never felt like this before, some part of his tired brain thought. Maybe this whole thing could actually work out...
The thought was cut off as the blackness of sleep consumed him.
