A/N: Clearly I need to bribe you guys into reviewing more often, mwahaha!
But seriously, don't expect updates this quick. Honestly. I just happened to get this one done fast and I really loved moments in it and wanted to share it with you guys, so here it is!
"Metalocalypse" and Dethklok are both property of Brandon (Branden? Brendan? I dunno, there's too many ways to spell that fucking name and I'm too damn lazy to look it up) Smalls and [adult swim]. Song credit: "U Had Me at Hello" by A Day to Remember. Oh, and Travis is a reference to Jo's fake boyfriend from season 1 and Lucy's actual ex-boyfriend from season 3 and is clearly another example of the writers at BTR being lazy with names (seriously, five characters named "Jennifer". Get with it!)
Anyhoo, enjoy. And REVIEW! Have a Palms Woods Day! :D
Dinner turned into a meeting. Kendall had no idea how the fuck James could stand it, how he was okay with Logan taking over and acting like a manager, explaining what was gonna happen after dinner, the bus ride to Phoenix, hotel check-in, blah blah blah... The blond felt himself go cross-eyed as the assistant droned on, causing the singer to snort into his diet coke. The shorter brunet glared at the teen, seeming to think it was his fault for the pop star's momentary lack of focus, but Kendall just popped a piece of his fajita in his mouth. He might've smirked as he did it, but whatever, didn't matter.
After dinner, the quartet headed back to the hotel, packing up their things in order to leave. James, of course, had more shit to gather, giving Kendall time to stare at the still unmade bed, a weird sense of loss hitting him. He knew eventually they'd have to leave the hotel room, that their stay there was only temporary. But it was still a lil hard to say goodbye to the bed where a whole lotta firsts between him and the pop star had taken place. First time sleeping in each others arms. First time having sex together. First time either one opened up to the other.
First time Kendall acted like a li'l bitch and whined about his step-dad.
Okay, so that last one was a memory he'd be more than happy to leave behind. But all the others...
Right, he knew that being around the bed itself wasn't required in order to remember something, especially not moments he wasn't likely to forget—except for maybe a random case of amnesia or some shit—but for some reason, he was having trouble leaving the piece of furniture and knowing he'd never see it again.
"Are you getting sentimental over a bed?"
Turning his head, Kendall saw James standing on his left, looking at him with twisted lips and a furrowed brow, his face a mocking question, just like his voice had been when he'd spoken. The teen scoffed, a forced out laugh following as he shook his head. "No." Wow. He didn't even sound all that convincing to himself.
"Aww, you are!" The singer wrapped an arm around the metal head's shoulders, shaking him lightly. "That's so cute!"
"Stop calling me cute!" He shoved off the larger male's hands, ignoring the laughter as he stepped away and grabbed his duffel off the bed. Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, he faced the elder male, seeing the smirk on his face.
"But you are adorable," the brunet stated, pinching the blond's cheek.
Kendall slapped his hand away, glaring. "Fuck you."
"Maybe later. No time right now."
The blond raised an eyebrow, face full of "are you serious?", which only got him another smirk and a wink in response before the other male headed over to his suitcase.
"Time to go," the pop star pointed out, grabbing his suitcase and putting it on the ground, pulling out the handle. "C'mon, cutie."
"Stop calling me cute!"
The larger male pointed a finger in the air, letting out a loud, overly dramatic "never!" as he headed towards the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. The younger shook his head, letting out a small chuckle at the other male's dorkiness, despite his aggravation at that damn adjective. Holding onto his duffel strap as it laid over his shoulder, he followed the singer out the bedroom, figuring there were worse things in life to be called.
Their luggage was stored in compartments near the bottom of the bus, along with that of James' band members, and at around 7:45 or so, the vehicle was on its way to Phoenix.
Kendall was introduced properly to the band, hanging out with them in the front lounge as the bus traveled. They shot they shit, talked music and touring, all of them pretty much agreeing that while they loved being on the road and seeing the country, they couldn't wait for the end of the tour next week so they could go home and see their family, sleep in their own beds. All of them spoke of what they missed the most while away—Sunday barbecues, watching the game with their dad, their mom's home-cooking—all of them except James, who remained quiet throughout the conversation.
The blond couldn't help but watch the brunet as they sat across from each other on different couches, keeping up the ruse that the younger male was a friend of the pop star's. The teen thought of what lil amount of information he had about the singer's family, random snippets online about them being divorced and her being the head of some cosmetics company, the brief allusion James himself had made about how his family wasn't all that cuddly. He figured it meant the pop star wasn't that close to his parents, meaning he probably didn't miss them all that much.
Tilting his head down, Kendall stared at his lap, watching as he played with his fingers. He wondered if there was anything James did miss, not just on the road, but at any point. He liked to think he was missed, that's why he was asked to fly out to where the singer was. But it wasn't like the brunet had actually said he missed the blond, just that he was needed. And being needed could cover a multitude of things, could mean it was just a physical need. Now that that had been satisfied—several fucking times—that need could be gone, could no longer matter. So chances were once he left the next day, he wasn't gonna be needed anymore, wasn't gonna be missed.
Didn't exactly make him wanna go home, even if he did miss his own family.
"Dude."
Kendall felt a nudge on his right, his head turning to see Travis—AKA the worst guitarist he'd heard in a long ass time—staring at him. "What?"
"I like your hat."
Was he on drugs?
The blond cocked an eyebrow at the raven haired musician, slightly confused, wondering where the fuck that had come from and what the fuck was going on. "Uh. Thanks."
"Can I try it—?" He reached forward, hand grabbing at the beanie on the teen's head. Only he never got a hold of it. Kendall had punched him in the side.
"Dude, what the fuck?" the younger male questioned as he stood up. "Don't touch the hat."
Travis rubbed where he'd been hit, muttering out an apology, one that was ignored. Kendall had turned towards where James had previously been sitting, worried that his overreaction had painted him in a negative light. Sure, not wanting someone to touch his shit was fine, but punching a guy over touching his hat was a bit too much, even he could admit.
But he didn't have to worry about James' reaction or how he perceived the situation. He was gone.
The blond looked around the front lounge, seeing the bassist chat with the keyboardist, the other guitarist at the fridge, the drummer coming out the bathroom, Logan at the table on his iPad with Freight Train eating across from him. And still no singer.
Without saying a word to anyone else, he headed to the back room of the bus, squeezing past other members of the band. The door was closed over and he knocked before announcing it was him. A muffled "c'min" was his response and he did as instructed, closing the door behind himself.
James was laying on the double bed, staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head. "Lock it, will ya?"
The blond nodded once before doing just that, then walked over to the bed. Sitting against the headboard, he pulled his legs up to his chest, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as they hung. "What's up?"
The brunet shrugged then sat up, mimicking the younger male's position. "Convo was getting a li'l too personal. Didn't wanna be a part of it."
Facing forward, the teen nodded, understanding completely, figuring it made sense given the singer's habit of shutting down and ending discussions whenever things got too close to home. "You don't talk to anyone about personal shit, do ya?"
More shrugging, the pop star now finger-combing his bangs with his left hand, elbow still on his knee. "Logan, I guess. But other than that, not really."
Kendall stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the headboard. A cabinet was right above him, the knob of which hit his head and he shuffled about, trying to move away from it. The action caused a slight pulling at his hole, forcing him to hide a wince. But it didn't seem like the other male was even looking at him, meaning he more than likely didn't catch any discomfort the younger one may be having. Thank fuck.
"So," the blond started, picking at a worn out spot on his jeans by his thigh. "I guess they have no idea that you're bi, huh?"
James shook his head, brow furrowed as he stared down at the burgundy comforter below them. "No. Just you, Logan, and Freight Train."
The teen bit his lip as he thought things over. Yeah, they'd repeated that same lie about Kendall being a friend from Minnesota who just flew out for a visit, but surely the band would catch on eventually. Hell, even the fandom had their moments of screaming about how gay James was—especially when "That Guy from Minnesota" was brought up—so surely his own band, who toured with him most of the year, would pick up on li'l clues or hints about the pop star's sexuality.
Then again, fandom comments were partially wishful thinking and there was always the chance that James was better at hiding things than Kendall knew. Even the blond hadn't been entirely certain of the brunet's sexuality when they'd first met. It wasn't until he had the guy's tongue down his throat that he had any sorta clue and even then he wasn't one-hundred percent as to which team he played for.
Which, apparently, was both.
Turning to the singer, he took in the hard lines of his face, the worry lines around his eyes, the wrinkle in his forehead. Shit had gotten serious again and the teen figured he should take advantage of it while he could, before they got distracted by more carnal activities, as they were prone to do.
"Won't they think it's a li'l weird that we're back here alone with the door locked?" he questioned, trying to point out the obvious. "Won't they figure it out?"
The singer turned to him, confusion still on his face. "What? That I'm kinda into dudes?"
Okay, not entirely what he meant, but it was a start. "Well, that, plus. Ya know."
More confusion. "No, I don't."
Clearly this was gonna be a li'l harder than the blond originally thought it would be. "Ya know. Us and—" He trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish that statement. Which really was the perfect fucking segue for that DTR convo they still hadn't had. "What is going on between us?"
A harsh sigh left James, his shoulders slumping, his head tilting down to stare at the space between their two bodies. "Can't we talk about this later?"
And once again, the singer was trying to put shit off. But Kendall was fucking sick of it, was sick of everything being put off, of being distracted with sex every time he tried to have this discussion. Part of the reason why he'd agreed to the trip was to get answers, was for them to talk shit over and figure out what was going on between the two of them. And fuck-dammit, it was gonna fucking happen. And now.
"No," he replied, firmly. "We can't. I'm leaving tomorrow."
James breathed out a swear as he turned his head, facing towards the door that led to the main part of the bus. A moment of silence took place before he let out a small chuckle. "Fuck, we're something, huh?" he started, corner of his lips twisted up in an amused smirk. "Both really like each other, but can't actually say it, but, man, do we have great sexual chemistry. Normal people would just say 'I like you, you like me, let's be in a relationship'."
The teen's eyebrows shot up at what the pop star had just said, wishing he'd caught it on tape so he could play it over and over, like that voicemail or the "guys, give it up for Kendall" audio file he had. But since he hadn't, he just had to hope he'd always remember it.
Not that he felt like he'd ever be able to forget it.
"So, you wanna be in a relationship with me?"
The brunet turned to the blond, eyes turned down at the sides, an apology all over his face. The younger male had flashes of his second James Diamond concert, when the singer was in the crowd and had given him the same look, the same wordless "I'm sorry" as he walked away, singing to the fans.
A lump formed in his throat, a small sense of panic and unease pooling in his stomach, making him shuffle in his spot again. He wasn't gonna like what the elder male was about to say, he just knew it.
"I can't come out."
Kendall nodded, lips pursed as he looked down at his lap, seeing his fingers twisting together. He'd kinda seen it coming, had known that at some point, those words would be spoken. It just sucked to actually hear them.
"'Cause of your image," he figured, knowing it was important to keep it up. It was why Logan kept nagging at them, why the assistant kept telling them to cool it and behave, so the pop star wasn't unintentionally outted and he remained the sex symbol he'd always been.
"Partially," James admitted, finger-combing his hair once more, eyes fixated on the door again. "But mostly because of my mom." He let his legs hang open, knees hooked inside his elbows, clasped hands hanging between the limbs. "Nothing matters but your image, how people perceive you. For her, bisexuals are sexual deviants, greedy perverts who can't make up their minds and will fuck anything just to fuck. Having one for a son would be her worst nightmare since it would fuck up the perfect image she's spent her entire life working so hard to build."
The teen's eyes roamed the larger male, seeing how hard his body was, how tense, despite the fact that his head was hanging. He couldn't imagine having a mom who wouldn't accept what he was, couldn't accept some minor part of him, all because it would affect her own image. He'd put his own mother through so much shit over the past few years, had given her hell for things that weren't even her fault, had worried her sick over being missing for days at a time, only to scream at her to back the fuck off and leave him alone. Yet she still loved him, still accepted him as her son, still cared.
Apparently he'd gotten lucky in the mom department. He hated that he couldn't say the same for the other male.
Crossing his legs at the ankles, he kept his eye on the larger male as he spoke. "But if it weren't for your mom, you'd come out?"
The singer shrugged, lifting his head. "I dunno." He turned and looked at the younger male. "I don't exactly think I'm boyfriend material, since I've never actually been one."
The corner of the teen's lips curved up in a small smile. "Me neither."
Silence descended over the pair as they both sat there, staring straight ahead. Shit was deeper than Kendall had thought it was, the elder male remaining closeted for more than just marketing purposes. The woman who'd given birth to him wouldn't accept him if he were anything other than a perfectly normal straight male, forcing him to hide who he was outta fear of rejection and hatred. But it explained a lot about James, why he was the way he was, why he'd done what he'd done. Well, to a degree anyway. But keeping Kendall a secret, avoiding deep conversations, not wanting to talk about his family or his past or any shit like that... it made sense. The blond himself had had the thought and belief that opening up and letting someone know you meant letting them close to you, forming a relationship of some form, a bond. And the deeper and stronger that bond became, the more prevalent that person was in your life, the more important. And when someone was that important, you wanted to tell people about them.
Which James couldn't do.
Kendall thought over everything he'd learned about the other male that weekend, from the panic he'd felt at their first kiss and how he'd actually felt something, something he wasn't used to, to his admission that talking about emotions wasn't something he could do, to explaining his mom's disapproval over his sexuality. All that shit, yet somehow, the teen was still able to be by his side.
"Look," he started slowly, noticing the slight twist to the singer's head that meant he was listening. "Whatever you wanna do, I'm on board." That got the brunet to fully turn to him. "You wanna come out, I'll support you. You wanna stay in the closet and we do a relationship on the DL, tell people we're friends, or actually just be friends, that's fine, I'll do that. I'll back whatever decision you make and go along with it."
"Fuck, Kendall." The words were a whisper, the tone one of disbelief, that the brunet was having trouble actually buying that someone would say something like that to him. He turned his body towards the younger male, leaning his forehead against the other's, swallowing hard. "I don't deserve you."
The blond let out a snort of disbelief, hands cupping the other male's face, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "No. I don't deserve you."
He scrunched up his face, a hand reaching around to hold the back of the teen's neck. "Eh, agree to disagree then."
"That works," the younger male agreed with a smile, green eyes locked onto hazel ones, seeing the seriousness coming back to the elder's face.
"Stay with me?" he requested, voice quiet, reluctant, as he swallowed hard again, eyes trained downward. "Please. I need you."
Kendall rubbed his thumbs over smooth skin, eyes solemn as he made a vow in return. "I'm not going anywhere."
James let out a shaky breath, body seeming to relax in relief, as if that promise had just taken away all of his worries. But they both knew it was only temporary, that within a few hours, the teen would be on a plane back to Minnesota and the singer would be physically alone once more. But the blond would be damned if anything tore them apart metaphorically, determined to live up to his earlier words and have the other male's back no matter what. At that point, he was James', and no one else's, and that's the way things were gonna stay.
Determined to prove himself with actions as well as words, he moved his head and connected their lips, kissing the singer deeply. The elder male immediately started kissing back, hand still cupping the back of his neck, the other resting on the blond's shoulder. Their lips slanted together as they moved closer together, bodies pressed against one another in a need to get close and stay that way.
James' hands moved, grabbing hold of Kendall's hips, and as he sat back against the headboard, he pulled the smaller male with him. The teen straddled the singer's waist, their lips still connected, his hands now threading through brunet locks as his hips moved against the other male's. The elder male cupped the younger's ass, squeezing, his own pelvis moving up and down as they ground together, their make-out session getting more heated, as it was prone to do.
The sounds of fabric shuffling, lips smacking, and harsh breathing was soon accompanied by another sound from outside the room, acoustic guitar floating in from the front lounge. At least Kendall was pretty sure that's what it was supposed to be. It sounded god-fucking-awful.
Pulling away from the singer's lips, he turned his head, trying to hear it better. The brunet simply moved to the younger male's neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point, hands moving up and down the smaller male's back. And while normally those actions would send shivers down Kendall's spine and blood to his cock, he couldn't get in the mood, too distracted by the shit-tacular racket coming from the front lounge.
He put his hands on the other male's shoulders, pushing away as he leaned back. "Stop, stop, stop."
The singer lifted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What's wrong?"
"Yeah, I can't do this with that godawful music playing." Moving off the brunet's lap, the blond stood up, straightening his tee around his waist.
The other male still looked lost as he sat on the bed, hands landing randomly on his lap. "Where you going?"
"I gotta rescue that guitar. It's clearly being tortured." With that, he headed to the door, unlocking it before sliding it open and heading to the front lounge. He wasn't surprised to find it was Travis who'd been playing—in the loosest definition of the word—and didn't hesitate to grab the instrument and pick away from him. "You poor thing," he told the guitar as he turned around and went back to the room in the rear, ignoring the protests behind him.
The door shut and locked behind him once more, he sat on his previous spot on the bed, legs stretched out before him, guitar on his lap. "Your guitarist really sucks, dude," he stated matter-of-factly, beginning to tune the instrument in the hope that when it was played, it wouldn't sound like it was in pain.
"Yeah, so I've been told." James finger-combed his hair, fixing it where Kendall had just messed it up. "You gonna play for me when you've tuned it up?'
The blond turned to the brunet, eyebrow raised, still plucking at a string and turning the knob. "Why?"
"You owe me."
The teen snorted, looking back down at the instrument as he worked on the next string. "How you figure that?"
"Well," the singer started, dropping his hands so they slapped against his lap. "I marked you like I promised, so now you hafta play for me like you promised. Deal's a deal."
Shit. He had a point. And while the blond didn't actually agree that hickey equaled song, he figured there was nothing else to do. Okay, not true, but making out generally led to sex and for the first time since he'd met the elder male, he was actually hoping to avoid that.
Weird really.
He let out a sigh, followed by an exacerbated "fine", tuning the last string. "What song?"
"Don't care," James answered, leaning back, arms folded behind his head. "Just play."
Not helpful at all really.
Guitar tuned and sounding like an actual guitar, Kendall strummed it, thinking up a song he knew how to play that would suit the situation, that wouldn't require screaming vocals or spoke about anything negative that would ruin the nice li'l happy bubble they were in once more. The perfect one sprung to mind and he started playing, small smile on his face as he watched his hands move over the strings, singing along.
"What have I gotten into this time around? I know that I had sworn I'd never trust anyone again, but I didn't have to. You had me at hello—"
He made the mistake of looking up, of looking at the other male. James was watching him, completely enthralled with his playing, with his singing, a look of total awe on his face. The teen had that same earlier feeling of being the famous musician and the pop star was the star-struck fan. The brunet's lips were parted, jaw slack, hazel-green eyes full of so many emotions that the blond couldn't even begin to figure them out.
But the moment felt bigger than that, felt like more than just the singer being impressed by his playing. It felt like that cliché rom-com movie moment. Cheesy, soft music playing in the background, the two leads with their eyes locked, right before one—or sometimes both—of them makes that all important confession, saying those three little words that held so much weight.
"James, c'mere please!"
Fucking hell, Logan's timing sucked.
Apparently the singer agreed, muttering out the now-cliche'd "fuckin' Logan" that he tended to use when the assistant interrupted. He gave the blond a "be right back" before getting up and heading to the door, unlocking it and leaving the back room.
Kendall let out a sigh as he put the guitar to the side, leaning back against the headboard with his hands on top of his beanie-covered head. So close. So fucking close to saying those words, that all-important phrase. He honestly had no idea how desperate he'd been to hear it from the other male, how badly he needed those words to reassure him that all was good, that they were gonna make it, even after he went home. But god, it was like an ache in his soul that he couldn't fix, not until he heard it.
Which really was a terrible fuckin' reason to wanna hear those words, or wanting to say them. No, they should be spoken because they were meant, because that person needed the other to know how they felt, not because it was needed to be heard. He wanted James to tell him how he felt because he meant it and because it truly was how he felt, not because Kendall was desperate to be told it.
Because that was gonna happen, what with the singer's long history of open up and telling what he was thinking and feeling.
He let out a long, harsh exhale, smearing his hands over his face before dropping them onto his lap. Taking advantage of the free time, he looked around the back room, taking in the covered windows on either side, the mirror on the wall to the right of the door, the flatscreen TV on the opposite side.
Leaning to the left, he looked out the open doorway, seeing down the bus, finding Logan and James by the bathroom. The assistant was talking animatedly, hands moving for emphasis, while the singer was standing there with his shoulders slumped and his head back, mouth slack as his closed eyes were aimed towards the ceiling. Clearly whatever the shorter male was saying wasn't something the taller was interested in hearing.
Kendall laughed at the scene as he sat up, recognizing the sarcastic body language as something he did himself, usually whenever Bitters was bitching at him. He figured the two friends would be talking for a while, so he grabbed the remote, switching the TV on and flipping through the channels until he came across the start of his favorite cartoon. Putting the remote back, he got comfy on the bed, adjusting the pillows behind his back and stretching his legs out in front of him.
James returned to the back room, yelling at Logan to "calm his tits" about... well, whatever they'd been talking about. The assistant starting explaining about how that was not only physically impossible, but also anatomically not gonna happen consider his lack of breasts, but he got the door shut on him before he could really get going.
Score one for Diamond.
The brunet crawled up the bed, sitting next to the blond, turning his attention to the TV. His brow furrowed as the intro to the show started, the cartoon characters riding a motorcycle, the sounds of a metal song—complete with growled out vocals—filling the small room. "What're you watching?"
"'Metalocalypse'," the teen replied, smile on his face. "It's about this metal band called Dethklok that are supposed to save the world. Or bring about its end. It's not really clear. Fuckin' kick ass music though."
The singer nodded, brow still drawn. "Dethklok, huh?"
The teen turned his head and attention to the other male, one eyebrow raised in question. "Yeah."
"Like the shirt you had on that night."
Both eyebrows went up, surprise hitting him, a small shock that he had forgotten about that. He remembered the singer bringing it up, explaining that people kept showing him pictures of the teen onstage and that was how he recalled the tee he'd been wearing.
"Yeah," he responded, adjusting his beanie on top of his head. "That was the shirt."
More nodding before the brunet shifted, reaching into his jeans pocket. He pulled out his iPhone and handed it to the other male with a "here".
Kendall cleared his throat, looking down at the dark screen. "Yeah, uh. I already saw your lockscreen."
James wasn't looking at him, eyes seeming to be fixated on the screen. "Look at the home screen."
Confusion washed over the younger male, but he did as suggested, hitting the home button before sliding and unlocking the smartphone. The picture of the two of them at the meet-n-greet disappeared, giving way to a different photo altogether.
Holy. Shit.
The blond stared at the image on the screen, past all the icons and the apps, past all the clutter covering pieces of it. It was one he had memorized every detail of, one he knew all to well, one that was forever burned into his brain. Because he'd lived it. Because he'd found and downloaded every single image from every single angle of that moment in time. Because he looked at them when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was unsure of what had happened, when he was certain there was something there.
He almost couldn't believe it, that that was the picture the singer had as his phone background. But there it was in all its pixelized glory: himself onstage with James, their hands clasped, their eyes locked, the pop star's mic up to his lips as he sang to a totally enraptured teen. A teen in a Dethklok shirt.
Green eyes snapped up, seeing the brunet sitting there with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around his legs. The elder male had his eyes focused on his lap, his head tilted down, like he wasn't entirely sure what the younger's reaction was gonna be and he didn't really wanna see it firsthand in case it was anything bad. But how could it be? Surely this was a sign that the pop star had had some sorta feelings for the teen before, that they'd been there since their first meeting. Or maybe the pic was found and put as his background after their second meeting, after their reunion at the meet-n-greet, after their make-out session in the dressing room. But either way, it seemed like some sorta proof that Kendall wasn't just a fan, not in the singer's eyes anyway.
"James—"
"I know. It's weird, right?" the brunet interrupted, dropping a hand to play with the comforter, fingers pulling and rubbing at a loose piece of fabric. "Kinda stalkery to have a pic of someone you barely even know as your back—"
"You're kidding, right?" the blond returned the favor, cutting the other male off. He wanted to point out how millions of people around the world had the pop star's image as their own cell background, how Tumblr was full of screencaps of whatever latest picture had come out of James Diamond that had immediately been turned into lockscreens, that it would be pretty hypocritical if the singer couldn't have someone as his background, too.
But instead of saying any of that shit, he simply pulled his own iPhone out of his pocket and tapped the elder male's arm with it. "Here."
James took it, lighting up the screen, eyes flipping to the younger male when he realized he hadn't been handed his own device back.
"It's our hands during the second meet-n-greet photo," Kendall explained. "And if you go to the home screen, you'll see my background is a pic of you onstage singing to me."
He watched as the elder male did just that, as his thumb slid across the screen to unlock it, bringing the home screen into view. "I have an app?"
Okay, not what the blond figured the brunet would focus on, but all right then.
"I have several apps."
Kendall snatched his phone back, locking it immediately before shoving it in his pocket. "Whatever."
James just chuckled, taking his own iPhone back and putting it to the side. "Okay, so now that we've established we're a good looking couple, how 'bo—"
"Whoa," the blond interrupted, mind fixated on one word. "Couple?"
Something flashed in hazel eyes before quickly disappearing. "Pair? Whatever, doesn't matter."
Except it did. Only the blond never got a chance to say so. The brunet leaned back against him, settling himself against the smaller male's lean frame, head and attention turned to the TV.
"How 'bout you explain this show to me and tell me why the band is playing while everyone's being shot and killed by lasers. That's really gross, by the way. Holy shit, that guy was cut in half!"
The teen let out a laugh, arms wrapping around the elder male, lips pressed to the top of his head. There was a good chance his favorite cartoon was now gonna be forever ruined by the memory of this very moment, but as it was happening, he decided he didn't care. It was worth it just to be able to hold James in his arms.