I received a request for a follow up to the last chapter, so this exists in that same universe and takes place a few days later. Enjoy!


I blew the eraser shavings away from the page, I was working at, letting them fall onto my sheets before I kept shading. From the hallway I heard the door unlock, open and then shut again and felt relieved to know that he was home… even more relieved at realizing that he was alone. He knocked at my door and I invited him in.

"How was your… date?" I asked.

He shrugged and licked his lips, his eyebrows raised high, trying to keep his eyes open wider.

"You're totally drunk right now!" I laughed and got off my bed, moving toward him.

"Maybe I'm… tipsy." he conceded.

"So who was this one with?"

"Just some dude. Another lawyer, kind of an ass," he held onto the doorframe and took a careful step, "lawyers are lame… I'm not that lame, right?"

"You're not lame, Alex." I convinced him.

"You'd tell me?"

"I'd definitely tell you… So this boring asshole lawyer couldn't convince you to go home with him? It must have gone badly."

"Shut up," he teased and grinned dopily at me.

"You need to go to bed."

He stumbled and took my hand, pulling me forward counterbalancing him falling backwards, "come with me."

"Alex…" I sighed.

"John, come on, you're so comfy, the other night… was the best. Cuddle me?"

I relented and let him pull me across the hall into his room. He stepped out of his shoes and let his nice jeans fall to the ground while he unbuttoned his shirt. I sat on his bed and looked anywhere but at him, he flopped into the bed next to me and grabbed me by the waist, tucking me against his side. We'd been in our underwear together loads of times over the years, most of the time when we shared a cramped dorm, but his boxers and tank top felt so much more exposing than my tshirt and thin sleep pants.

"So, this lawyer getting a second date?" I asked, pulling his hair down from its messy bun.

I added the hair tie to the collection on my wrist and rubbed his scalp.

"Probably not. He's loaded, though, kept buying me drinks… I think… I think I let him down, but I didn't want to go home with him. The idea of just coming home and falling into bed and cuddling up with you… that shit sounded so much better. Why didn't you go out? It's Friday night."

"No one I want to go out with." I shrugged and pressed my cheek against his bare shoulder.

"I thought there was Tinder guy."

"Nah…" I snuggled tighter into Alex, and freed my hand from his hair, my finger traced the straps of his tank top, fingering the bare skin of his shoulder blade.

"You could at least have gone out. I don't want you to miss out on stuff." He stretched and groaned, I guessed that from his vantage point the room was spinning.

"I'm not missing out, but, damn, look at you, you've got a little streak of college John Laurens showing."

"Don't judge me." He laughed, hand climbing under the back of my shirt, the alcohol made him even warmer, his hand burned against my back, I became aware of how clammy I felt and tensed just slightly.

"I'm not judging, I'm kind of proud, really. So what did rich, lawyer guy get you all messy drunk on?"

"Rum… then tequila."

"Oh, man, you're gonna be so dead tomorrow."

"I know. Do you have plans tomorrow?"

"Space Jam and takeout?"

"I'm down."

He flattened his hand against my bare back, scooping me in tighter and I fell asleep listening to the soothing rhythm of him snoring.

In the morning I woke up to him standing at his closet, wet hair dripping down his slender back, a towel wrapped low on his hips. I rustled in the sheets and cleared my throat to let him know I was awake.

"Hey." I wiped my face and sat up.

He looked over his shoulder and grinned, "oh, hey, you're up, sorry, didn't mean to bother you."

"All good, I'm gonna go out to the living room, let you get dressed."

"Cool, I'll be out in a minute."

I stole a final glance at him and left his room, curling up on our sofa in the living room, wrapping myself in the throw blanket. He came out of his room in a hoodie and sweatpants, wet hair tossed up high on his head. He flopped on top of me on the couch and wriggled into the blanket.

"Hi." I wheezed out with a chuckle.

"Shh… less talking, more napping." he dropped his ear to my chest.

"How's your head?"

"John… less talking."

"Have you taken anything?"

"Aspirin… shh…"

I propped my phone up on his back and scrolled through Instagram. He tapped a quick, constant beat on my shoulder with his fingers, I recognized it as my own excited heartbeat. He quickly fell asleep on me. Caught up on Instagram, I switched over to Tinder and sighed in dejection as I found more average guys, data analysts, chiropractors, shift leads at Chipotle… no one I wanted. Maybe there would never be someone I wanted.

Alex shifted and slid over my body, tucking into the crack where the seat met the back of the couch, pushing me closer to the edge. I put my phone to sleep and rolled into him. I watched him sleep and closed my eyes.

Time lost meaning as we lie together on the couch. Him sleeping, me dozing, both of us warm and safe under the blankets happy to ignore the world outside. The sounds of the streets were a busy whirl of Saturday traffic. He moaned quietly and kicked his leg between mine, our hips pressed together in the cramped space of the couch. I breathed deliberately, aware of our proximity. Alex's hand was at the back of my neck, he pulled my head down and quicker that I could acknowledge, his lips found mine.

Like the rest of him, they were warm and soft, framed in roughness by his goatee. I kissed him back and he licked into my mouth. I moaned into him and my tongue found his, the wet softness sent sparks through my body. Each movement of his lips, each tiny breath ghosting against my tongue, spiralled me deeper. I forgot to breathe until my lungs burned. He pulled away and we stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he blinked, "I don't know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry, John."

I blinked back at him, catching my breath, "did you like it?"

"What?"

"Kissing me… did you like it?"

"Um… yeah, I-I did."

"Would you like to do it again?"

He nodded, "yes, please."

I hooked my finger under his chin and pulled him closer, our lips meeting, the only sound in our apartment was the sounds of our kiss, the gently smacks, tiny suckling noises as he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth. He took my hip in his hand and squeezed it tightly. I gasped into his mouth and licked into him, his tongue ran across my own, I shuddered and moaned into him.

It was in this moment that I realized how many times I'd fantasized about this moment, about what he would taste like, about how soft his mouth would be. How many nights he'd crept into my fantasies, each time that he cooked dinner in just sweatpants that I'd imagined coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his broad chest.

"Alex." I moaned his name, mostly to make sure that this moment was real.

His hand climbed under the back of my shirt again and he panted my name. Our kisses stayed the course, hands exploring each other's chests and back and hips. He kept the contact of our hips, latching his leg behind mine. His chest heaved against mine, and my swollen lips felt sore and tired, we broke loose of each other and stared at one another in the small gap between our faces.

"What's happening, Alex?" I frowned, the fear of the intensity of what we'd done hurtling toward my consciousness.

He grinned out of half of his mouth and swept my hair back, "what should have years ago."

"What?" I wrinkled my nose at him.

"How many guys?" he sighed and tugged at a curl, pulling it straight, letting it spring back around my face, "how many guys have we been with? We've been with them, come home to each other, had our fun with them and come home to each other, make dinner for each other, spend time with each other, eat ice cream and binge watch Game of Thrones with each other. It's always been you, Jack, always."

"No…" sadness clawed at me, at the thought of the wasted years, ignoring what was in front of my face the whole time, "no, Alex, you don't really…"

"Love you? I do, I always have. It's why I stay up to make sure you get home safe, it's why I never eat the last yogurt, why I always try and dry the towels right before you take a shower."

I grinned at him, "warm towels are nice… I always just thought it was on accident."

"Never. It's all because I love you."

"I love you, too. I thought I was just jealous because you're my best friend, but like when I'd see you with other guys… or girls, it… I was jealous."

"And it's cute." He kissed the tip of my nose.

"But Thomas is gonna call you again." I accepted the defeat of just being a placeholder.

"Let him. Let the phone ring off the hook. There's nothing he can give me that's better than you."

"Nice shit."

"He has a velvet sofa. Who the fuck has a velvet sofa?"

"But ours is shitty." I toed the rip in the stained fabric.

"No, ours is hauling it up six flights of stairs into our dorm, the dollars of change we shook out of it to try and scrape together enough to go out to the bar across from campus, hauling it back out in the rain, dropping it on the concrete when we were moving in here, the bowl of chili you spilled on the arm when you got excited during the basketball finals two years ago, the ink on the middle seat from when my pen exploded. It's not shitty, it's our lives."

"Dammit, Alexander," I sighed and stroked his flank, "you and your stupid words always making me feel shit."

"I got skills." He quirked an eyebrow and leaned in to kiss me again.

I closed my eyes into the magic of the electricity of his kiss and melted into his body, he sucked at my tender lip again, the pain making me giggle lightly, he pulled back.

"You're the first guy who's ever laughed when I kissed him." He eyes crinkled in the corners from his grin.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

"I've been waiting for a guy to laugh. I've been waiting for a guy I can make laugh in bed."

"I've never laughed…"

"We'll see." His grin turned wolfish.

I rolled my eyes and kissed him again, unable to hold back the giggle that slipped out. He moaned into my mouth and gripped me tighter. I licked into his mouth, the sweetness of his tongue as it reached for my own, his hands were in my hair, gentle and casual even as his mouth worked against mine with more intensity.

"I love you." He broke us apart to tell me.

"I love you, too, Alex."

"I've always thought you were cute."

"Yeah? I mean, we do cute stuff together, that's like a best friend thing."

"Okay…" he twisted a section of my hair, "I've always thought you were sexy."

"No,"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Oh, God, yeah, John, how have you never noticed before?"

"Because I'm dumb?" I laughed.

"Well knock that shit off. I want you to notice it now. I want you to notice how I watch you, how sexy I think you are."

I grinned at him, "okay."

His stomach growled between us and I laughed, tucking my hand onto his belly, "ready for that takeout yet?"

"Definitely." He smirked.

We spent the rest of the night watching bad tv and sharing bites of Chinese food on our stained, broken in couch, each occupying an arm of it, legs tangled together in the middle, toes occasionally rubbing over the back of the other's calves, leaning in to steal tiny kisses, still best friends, but finally able to acknowledge that we'd always been so much more.