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Chapter Text

Dave and I were just barely out of college when we decided, "fuck it, let's open a coffeeshop."

At first, Dave was like, "no, dude, that's gay," and I was like, "yeah, dude, everything in relation to me is gay."

Coming out to someone while trying to convince them to make a business commitment is probably a terrible idea -- or maybe it's not. After all, the shop's been open almost 15 years now.

It's not like we're any special. We're convenient, if anything. Plenty of schools and businesses around us. We get mostly greasy college students and uptight business people.

You start to notice people who are a little out of the ordinary. For example, there's this guy named Brandon who comes in everyday. He looks too happy to be a college student or businessman. I mean, sometimes he walks in and he's glowing. On top of that, he always orders our seasonal drinks. Typically our regulars never order our seasonal drinks, in fact some of them would rather inject their daily caffeine via syringe. Not Brandon, he drinks for the taste.

Dave likes to make fun of me and claim I have a "crush" on Brandon. That's pure bullcrap. Grown men don't have crushes. That, and I just enjoy messing with Brandon because it's entertaining, not because it's cute.

He has a simple name, but sometimes I write it wrong on the cup. "Candon","Langdon" and my personal favorite, "generic brand name." He never gets mad, he just giggles to himself at his table and sometimes takes a picture of it.

It's entertaining, not cute.

The worst moments are when the shop is empty except for me and him. See, that's another weird thing about Brandon, he stays in the shop to have his coffee instead of scurrying out like everyone else. He just sits at the same two-chair table 10 feet from me and scrolls through his phone.

It's so uncomfortable standing behind the counter with nothing to look at but him. I mean, yes okay, I can look at the objects surrounding him and the objects behind the counter with me, but when someone as -- weird as Brandon steps in your presence you have to look at them.

****

We added hot chocolate to the menu when we decided the pumpkin spice drinks weren't selling well enough. Dave decided we'd have different kinds of hot chocolate. He claimed that the regular was boring, so he pulled the idea of Nutella hot chocolate and white-chocolate-hot-chocolate out of his ass.

I told him the only person who'll buy "Nutella hot chocolate" was Brandon and he grinned like the Joker snorted every drug on the market.

"It's just like you to know your crush's likes and dislikes," he chuckled.

"Shut up, I don't have a crush on him, I'm not four!" I argued.

"Ronald, stop running away from your emotions, you obviously like this dude, why don't you just ask for his number or something?"

"David, you can't just ask a dude for his number, it doesn't work like that, I don't even know if he's not straight."

"What? Are you just going to wait until a rainbow flag falls out of his back pocket? He's obviously not straight, he's the only dude who drinks our seasonal shit."

"Oh what, just 'cause you like pumpkin spice, you like sucking cock? I don't even like our seasonal shit."

"You're such a pussy, you know that?"

"I am not a pussy, I don't even like him."

"Every time we talk about this, I want to make a special brew of coffee that's mostly bleach for myself."

I scowled at him before returning to the register, where there was a line of people waiting.

At the end of the line was Brandon and in the moment he was glancing up at the menu, I was trying to guess what he was going to order. "Finally got rid of the pumpkin stuff, huh?" He murmured, stroking his chin.

"Uh-huh," I grumbled back. The Nutella chocolate, I just know it, I thought.

"Nutella hot chocolate? That's interesting. I'll have that."

Nailed it. "Alright, Brandon. Is that all?"

"Yeah -- you know my name?"

My heart stuttered. Years of pretending to forget his name just to mess up like this. "Of course I know your name, you come in every day."

I didn't look up, but I knew he was smirking. "Funny because you always write a different name on my cup."

I gulped, I already started writing "Hondon" on the cup. I slowly drew an X over it.

"I knew you were messing with me!" He laughed. "There was no way you're that stupid."

"That'll be five dollars, please," I managed.

"Okay," he beamed and grabbed his wallet. He pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to me. I was careful not to brush our hands together.

After I placed the bill in the cash register, I rushed to Dave who was standing by the coffee maker. "A Nutella hot chocolate," I breathed, handing him the cup.

"Ah, so I see Prince Charming is here," Dave chuckled, grabbing a carton of milk and pouring it in a metal cup.

I breathed heavily, "I just called him his real name for the first time."

Dave's eyes widened, "holy shit, Ron, it's the end of the world," he mocked.

I watched as Dave steamed the milk then scooped a glop of Nutella into it, trying to calm myself. "You don't understand," I croaked. "I don't know any of our other costumer's names."

Dave rolled his eyes and poured the drink into Brandon's cup. "You're fucking ridiculous," Dave reached for a lid and put it over the cup. He handed it to me, "give him his drink and then I'll switch you places at the register, okay?"

"No! What?! I can't -- I can't talk to him."

"You see him everyday, anyway! Are you just going to quit because you know his name and you clearly like him a lot?"

I blankly stared at him.

"Jesus fuck -- give him the fucking drink!"

I took a deep breath and walked over to where the customers waited. There stood Brandon, arms crossed, standing like a mannequin you'd see at a high class store.

"Brandon," I manage to call out.

His gaze shifted to me, then the drink. He walked over to it and I quickly scurried away before he could speak to me again.

He's not cute.

Chapter Text

I couldn't sleep the night after I first said his name to him. I spent too much time denying the things Dave kept telling me, it frustrated me that I couldn't just completely block it out. It was exactly like a shit I couldn't hold.

Then at about three in the morning, I let myself process the concept of having feelings for a costumer. I let myself shit. For a moment I also let myself think about him having feelings towards me. I think about how it must feel to be held by him and how his lips might taste just like our seasonal drinks.

I abruptly stopped myself. Me, with a man that pretty? Never. He's probably straight -- taken, even. I don't like him because someone else probably already does. I simply couldn't like him.

When I got to work in the morning, I actually had a cup of our coffee.

"You never drink our coffee," Dave pointed out, wiping down tables. "Rough night, huh?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Must be tough jerking off to one of our frequent costumers every night."

"Shut up. Shut up forever."

Dave chuckled, "my bad, sorry."

I glared at him before going into the back room to check if we had everything for the day. My head was foggy as I did. Fucking Brandon had to come into my head like the ghost of Christmas present to haunt me.

"Dude -- are you okay?" Dave said, walking in behind me, startling me.

"Jesus, Dave. Yeah, sure, everything's great," I murmured, not turning to face him.

"Are you sure? You've been staring at the same bag of beans for five minutes."

I blinked, realizing that I had been. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. I just couldn't.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dave asked awkwardly.

"Nothing's wrong!" I snapped, spinning around and finally facing him.

"Is it Brandon?"

"Don't fucking talk to me!"

"It's Brandon! God, why don't you just stop being such a big fat pussy and say it out loud!"

"Say what out loud?! What is there to say out loud?!"

"That you like him! That you-you're fucking attracted to him!"

"I'm not. I don't like him. He's nothing."

"Here we go again! Ronnie, you need to admit these feelings to someone so you can finally admit it to yourself!"

"There's -- there's nothing to admit. How do you even know I like this guy?"

It was clear I was pushing Dave to his boiling point. He was growing a deep red in his face. "D-don't turn this around again, jackass! I know you like him!"

This was enough for me. I didn't even know why I was so angry, but I was. I was fuming. "You don't fucking know anything!" I exploded.

Dave suddenly breathed in deeply. As he let out the breath, the wildness in his expression disappeared. "Ronald, I guess I can't force you to say anything," he said calmly, "but I do want you to know that doing this is just going to make you more upset."

"I'm not upset."

"Whatever. You're not happy either." We stared at each other for a moment. The atmosphere was still tense and I was still pretty pissed off. "I'm going to open up now," he muttered and walked out of the room.

****

Interaction between Dave and I was cold from our argument on. I hated to feel like Brandon managed to brightened things up for me. He walked in like usual, glowing like a Greek god.

He ordered the white hot chocolate and if Dave's glare at me could shoot lasers, he would not have needed to steam the milk.

"Pu-ssssss-y," he hissed upon giving me the finished drink.

I was so bewildered by his remark, I just stood there staring at him. He furrowed his eyebrows before turning his back to me, forcing me to deliver the drink to Brandon.

I called his name and he floated over, unreal. It was unfair how beautiful he was. A fucking American prince, it was so frustrating. I was so distracted by it that I forgot to set the drink on the counter and continued to stare at him. So, of course, I had to awkwardly hand it off to him.

If our fingers brush even in the slightest, I don't think I'll make it passed Thanksgivings, I thought as our hands approached each other. Ever so gently, I felt our fingertips brush as he wrapped his hand around the cup. I felt a rush through my body that felt like all the temperatures combined. Yet, to him it was just a normal interaction.

"Thanks," he smiled. Unexpectedly, he looked up at me, his stupid big hazel eyes staring back into my shit colored eyes. "You know, we see each other everyday, you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Oh, uh, it's Ronnie," I managed.

"Ronnie, huh, cute."

That was it, I thought I was going to pass away right then and there. I grabbed the edge of the counter and tried not to go into the light.

He took a sip of the drink and I prayed to every god anyone has believed in that Dave made a damn good drink so Brandon would continue coming back.

"Hmmf," Brandon breathed.

I felt a lump in my throat.

"It's good," he continued.

"Yeah?" I accidentally exclaimed.

Then he let out the most precious giggle to ever exist on this planet. A giggle that could make the manliest blush -- and God, was I blushing. "Yeah, it's good!" He smiled. "As always."

"Oh yeah, that's all David's work," I shrugged.

"David?"

"Curly hair."

"Ohhh, I guess he's the brain and you're the muscle?"

"We're both the muscle, there is no brain."

No one would have ever guessed his laugh was identical to his precious giggle. He precious-laughed at my joke. I would never refer to the feeling in my core as butterflies, but fuck, if those critters inhabited my stomach, there would be enough to fly me away.

Eventually he finished the hot chocolate which meant our time together was up. I was disappointed for being so disappointed.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked after throwing his cup away.

"Sure, absolutely," I nodded. I felt like I was spinning like a top.

"Okay then...Ronnie." Maybe it was my imagination, but I believe he winked at me.

Dave, the curly-asshole, was beginning to become right.

Chapter Text

Brandon doesn't come in at his usually time. He came in during one of our dead hours and the shop was empty. I didn't want to appear jittery in front of Dave, I didn't want to let on that he was inching towards correctness.

"Hey, Ronnie," Brandon said smoothly, sliding up to the counter.

I wanted to die, I wanted to flop onto the floor like a bag of cheap coffee beans and twitch until my slow death takes over me. It was so weird to hear him say my name. I didn't know I could like the way someone said my name.

"What can I get for you?" I choked out.

"Suprise me," he replied unexpectedly.

I wanted to cry, but outwardly smirked at him as if I could casually handle any type of interaction that even seemed like flirting. "Are you sure?" I asked, wanting it to sound sly, but it came out with too much concern.

He chuckled, "yeah."

I grabbed a cup and made my way to Dave. "Brandon wants you to surprise him."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Gee, you seem so concerned for a guy who does not like him."

"I just -- want to please the customers, Dave."

He yanked the cup out of my hand, "so we will, we're gonna please him so fucking hard."

Then, it became clear that in the whole 15+ years we've kept the shop open, we have not a single idea what the hell we're doing.

Dave began to make a concoction that was a blend of our hot chocolates. "Dave, it's gonna be too sweet," I winced.

"Quit your bitching, he's gonna love it, just look at him, he's clearly been living in Willy-Wonka's factory since birth, he can handle a little sweet, he looks like sweets."

"Gay."

"Hey, I am a human with eyes, anyone can see that he looks like the human form of a marshmallow. I just don't want to fuck the marshmallow, unlike some people..."

I blushed, which gave Dave some kind of satisfaction. He continued making his science experiment and I periodically looked over my shoulder to check on Brandon. He just stood at the counter, scrolling through his phone. I hated how Dave right was about everything.

Dave put a cover over the drink. "Alright, all done, tell him it's exclusive from the chief," he said, his words slowly descending into a French accent.

I grabbed it and nodded at him before taking a deep breath and walking to the counter. "Exclusive from the chief," I managed, setting the drink by Brandon.

"Oh yeah?" Brandon said looking up from his phone. He clicked it off and slid it in his pocket. "What is it?"

My heart began racing as he picked up the cup. "I'm not allowed to say."

He took a sip and I swear my body paused. Suddenly, his face lit up. "Oh wow! This is really good!"

Okay, so Dave was the greatest man in the universe. "I'm glad you like it," I smiled.

"And I'm the only one who's had this?"

"Yup, and you're probably going to remain the only one."

"Wow, why me, though?"

His cheeks were turning a bit pink and I was melting with the innocence he radiated. "I guess it's just your lucky day."

He looked like he suddenly realized something. "I didn't pay you!"

"You don't have to -- it's our treat." I looked back at Dave who was already glaring at me.

"Gee, thanks! You guys are amazing!"

I felt like my body was on fire. I knew it was a comment directed towards both Dave and me, but it was still enough to make me feel crazy. I wanted to tell him that he was amazing, so he deserved it. "Like I said, it's your lucky day," I said instead.

"Well," he sipped the drink, "I better get going."

"Oh, are you sure?" I was such a desperate fuck.

"Uh, yeah -- I'll see you tomorrow, though!"

Tomorrow. It was so far away. "Okay, sure."

"Thanks again for everything!" He began heading towards the door.

"No problem." I was waving, a true tragic sight of someone who had a ridiculous school-girl crush.

As soon as he walked out the door I felt the need to see him again. What was wrong with me.

"Asshole, you're lucky I'm a better wingman than coffeeshop owner -- we can't give free custom drinks to ever cute dude who comes in here."

I don't know why, but an intense gay wave washed over me. "He's the only cute boy who comes in here. And he's the cutest boy I've ever seen."

"I'm gonna vomit."

I didn't even care that I was creeping Dave out, which was definitely saying something. That's what Brandon was doing to me.

Chapter Text

I was sitting on a bench outside the shop before it opened, just enjoying my surrounding environment. The other businesses around us begun putting their Christmas decorations up and the temperature was lower. Both made me very happy because they were just generally happy things and they made me more money.

As I closed my eyes and soaked in the good vibes, someone began talking to me. "Hey Ronnie, mind if I join you?"

I opened one eye and looked in the direction of the voice. My other eye opened when I realized it was Brandon. "Oh -- yeah -- yes, of course," I stammered, sitting up and moving over.

He sat down and I thought, oh gosh, he even sits down beautifully.

"It's a bit chilly out today," he shivered, pulling down the sleeves of his sweater that were previously rolled up. He balled them up in his fist and crossed his arms. I had this unbelievable urge to wrap my arm around him and pull him close to me. I had to contain my thoughts before speaking.

"I like this weather, you know?" I said.

"Of course you do, you own a coffee shop and there's nothing like a hot beverage on a cold day," Brandon retorted. "Which is why I'm here."

I chuckled, "sorry, doesn't open in ten minutes."

"You own the place! Can't you just open it?"

"Dave would be even more pissed if I opened early, even if it's just ten minutes. He's already pissed because I gave you a free drink."

Brandon raised an eyebrow, "why'd you do it then?"

Because you are quite possibly the most pretty human I've ever seen and I want to impress you. "I felt like it."

He laughed lightly, "Okay, Ron."

"Did you just call me Ron?"

"Yeah -- is that okay with you?"

I nodded, "sure. Can I call you Don?"

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, you sound more handsome as a 'Don'."

"I'm pretty sure 'Don' is short for Donald."

"Don and Ron, the dream team."

Brandon's expression changed into one between displeasure and squish. Lips pressed together tight and eyes completely dead. I wanted to grab his face and kiss his cheek right there. "I want you to return to the guy who serves me coffee now," he grumbled.

"Don't say that, Donny!" I pouted. "You don't even order coffee."

He looked away, shaking his head, his lips curling into a small smile.

"What? What is it?" I chuckled.

"I don't know, I like you, you're funny."

If it was possible for a heart to soar right out of someone's chest, that's what mine would have done. "I try my best, Brandon."

"This is so weird -- I-I don't have many friends, so this is weird."

What was weirder was the fact that such a man didn't have many friends. I didn't think before speaking. "Someone as wonderful as you doesn't have many friends?"

He blushed, "well, most people around here are college students or businessmen. I'm too old to be friends with these college kids and businessmen are draining to be around."

"You can be Dave and I's friend."

He looked back up at me, "it'd be an honor."

****

Brandon and I came back inside and I hopped behind the counter again. "So what can I get you today?"

"Just a regular hot chocolate, please," he said.

"Coming right up," I responded. I didn't want to look up at him, I didn't want to see the blush on his cheeks from the cold or whatever soft expression he was wearing. Friends weren't supposed to feel so intensely about each other.

"Wait, I have to pay you this time," Brandon said, digging in his wallet.

"Friends don't pay each other."

"Friends don't let friends go out of business either."

He handed me the money and I could feel my cheeks burn as I placed it in the cash register. I walked to the machines and began making the hot chocolate.

Dave walked up behind me, "I saw you and Mr.Marshmallow chatting it up, is he in love with you yet?"

"He just wants to be friends with us, Dave. He said he didn't have many friends -- do you believe that, David?"

"No, actually, I think he said that so he can get close to you."

"Don't give me that false hope."

"Okay, so I guess I do believe it, he's the embodiment of awkward."

"Yeah -- it's kind of fucking adorable." I didn't even care that I gave him what he wanted to hear.

"What was that again?"

I finished making the drink. Before giving it to Brandon, I told Dave, "I think I really like the cute guy who comes in everyday to order our seasonal specialties. He's so cute, sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode."

I think Dave was so shocked at my sudden confession, he didn't even respond with a snarky comment. With my own satisfaction, I walked over to Brandon.

"Thanks," he smiled as I handed him his drink.

"You're welcome," I nodded.

We spent a moment just staring at each other, and I didn't even notice it was awkward. The door opened and other costumers walked in.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked softly.

"Of course," he beamed.

It was physically hard to walk away from him. I walked over to Dave, "dude, there's no way I can run the register today, he's taken too much of my mind."

Dave smirked and reached up at me, pinching my cheek. "That's adorable." He stepped passed me and patted my back before walking off to the register.

Chapter Text

"Ow! Fuck! Ronald, Come help me get this shit down!" Dave shouted from the back room.

It was five in the morning, two hours before the shop's opening hours and we finally decided to decorate for Christmas.

I made my way into the back room and to where Dave stood, trying to keep two boxes filled with decorations from falling over. I quickly rushed over to his aid and grabbed a box from him.

"What's in here?" I asked as we waddled out of the room.

"Ornaments, I think?" Dave replied. "I'm pretty sure the tree is in here." He was carrying a tall slender box, it was definitely the tree.

"Don't we a skirt-spread-shit thing to put down before the tree?"

"Hell if I know."

We sat the boxes down in front of the counter. "Vannucci, let me pitch you a deal." Dave huffed, leaning against the counter.

"Lay it on me, Keuning."

"I'll take care of all the indoor crap and you take care of the outside."

"Uh -- okay, I guess."

"Alright, we've got a deal."

I walked back into the back room and snatched up the box of Christmas lights.

"Ladder's somewhere in there too!" Dave called after me as I rushed to the door.

"Thanks, I know," I muttered. I say the box down by the door and went back to the back room. I took the ladder and carried it back to the door.

"Good luck!" Dave sang as I dragged the lights and the ladder outside.

I sat on the bench for a good half an hour untangling the lights. Then I tucked the chords underneath my arm and sat up the ladder. There was probably a safer way to put up the lights, but I wasn't really thinking too hard at the moment. Getting on the roof seemed like the only option.

Putting up the lights took about another half an hour and then I was back down the ladder. I was quite satisfied as I plugged it in and they lit up.

I walked back inside and saw that the Christmas spirit itself had vomited all over the shop. The tree sat decorated in the far right corner of the shop, tinsel lined the walls, lights hung from the counter. I wanted to laugh when I saw Dave hanging up stockings.

"This is actually great, Keuning," I complimented.

He quickly turned to me and grinned. "Yeah, I already feel like apologizing to our costumers who don't celebrate Christmas."

I grinned back at him, and for a moment we were just grinning at each other like a duo of fucking idiots.

****

If I said I wasn't waiting for Brandon for the better part of the morning, I would be lying. I stood at the register and with each opening of the front door, I felt a jolt in my heart. Eventually when the customers from the morning rush cleared out, my need for Brandon to walk in increased quite a bit.

"What's up, Ronald? You look like a lost dog waiting for his owner," Dave sighed, walking up behind me.

I couldn't even believe what happened next. My vocal chords betrayed me and I actually whimpered.

"My dude, it's okay, he going to come in," Dave chuckled.

I pouted, "why am I like this?"

Dave smiled, placing his hand on my shoulder, "there's been a bug going around and it usually spreads during the holidays. The bug, Ronnie, is called love."

I wanted to break down crying. I couldn't love Brandon, I didn't even know him. He could have a foot fetish for all I know -- there was no way I'd date someone with a foot fetish. I didn't even know if he was into dudes or not.

"I don't love him," I managed to croak out.

Dave shrugged and took his hand off me, "whatever you say."

I returned to the register and moments later, the door opened, and the only light I knew that was brighter than the lights aligning the roof and counter walked in.

He had a pleasant look on his face and was wearing a baseball cap. I gripped onto the counter to assure myself that I was not physically melting.

"Hey Brandon," I breathed out. I felt like I was letting butterflies flutter right out of my mouth.

"Hi," he responded.

Everything seemed so casual, it almost irked me.

"I really like all the decorations," he said, glancing around the area.

"Yeah? Good, it's all for the customers," I grinned.

"The customers? Doesn't it make you happy too?"

I couldn't help but look in his eyes as I muttered. "I'm pretty happy as it is."

He raised a corner of his mouth, "I like that -- now bring me a hot chocolate, happy man." He stuck his fist out, in which he held money. I took his money, put it in the register and for a second as I turned around, thought of dropping to the floor and sliding over to Dave like a slug. I took a cup and decided to walk over like a normal person.

"Hot chocolate," I said to Dave.

"Ooh, so I see he's here, tell me, does he like the decor?" Dave giggled.

"Of course he likes the decor -- I think he's the type of guy to like anything bright and pretty."

"Hmmm," Dave hummed, "You should ask for his number."

"His number?! No way, he'll definitely think I'm hitting on him!"

"Aren't you?"

"No! I mean -- I'd like to, but we've just finally started talking and I -- I really don't want to ruin it. I really don't want him to leave."

He capped the hot chocolate and handed to me, shrugging. "Okay, but eventually someone's gonna have to ask if he likes the D." He looked up at me and we made intense eye contact as we both grabbed the drink.

"You wouldn't. You won't."

He let go. "Okay."

I glared at him, "you won't."

He smirked and shrugged again, not saying anything. I clenched my jaw and walked away to Brandon.

Now, there has always been a silence between Brandon and me when I give him his drink, but it hasn't been until now when I felt the need to fill. So each moment of silence between when I gave him his drink and when he finally took a sip was agonizing.

"Do you like it?" I asked him.

"Of course," he beamed. "I always do. That's why I'm here every day."

I leaned against my palms on the counter. When I looked back at him I was suprised by how much closer I was. Which lead me to really focus on the details of Brandon's face. He had a subtle sprinkle of freckles across his nose and the pretty kind of hazel eyes.

Oh. I really did like him a lot.

"Do you ever drink the things you make here?" Brandon asked, snapping me out of my trance.

"Er- yeah, sometimes."

More silence. Suddenly he placed his cup down and peeled the top off. Dave, who was walking to the back room, stopped beside me for a moment. Brandon's hand went to his back pocket and came back with a candy cane. He began unwrapping the candy cane and I was perplexed about many things in the moment. (1) The obvious. Why did he have a candy cane just there in his pocket? (2) I didn't know anyone's hands could be so big compared to a candy cane. (3) How could a pair of hands so big be so delicate?

He got the candy cane unwrapped and stuck the stick-end in his mouth. I didn't mean to watch so eagerly, but the way his lips slid down the twisted white and red was too good not to watch.

When the candy cane was out of his mouth, he started mixing his hot chocolate with it.

Dave was still glancing over my shoulder. "Did he just whip out a candy cane and mix his drink with it?" He whispered.

"Um, yeah," I whispered back.

"I can't believe you're in love with the quirky protagonist." He walked away, leaving me blushing profusely.

"What did he say?" Brandon asked, looking up from his drink.

"Oh -- he was just wondering if you - ah - are enjoying the drink."

"Well -- I am."

The candy-cane melted and he was left with the curved part. "Do you want it?" He asked.

I don't know what possessed me to say, "sure," but I did. I opened my hand to him and he placed it in my palm. I was trying my damnedest not to shake.

"I better get going," he sighed, putting the lid back onto his cup.

"Are you sure?" I whimpered.

He laughed, "unfortunately, yeah -- I would definitely prefer to stay, though, I guarantee you that."

So stay, I thought. I couldn't believe it only occurred to me then that Brandon had a life outside the coffee shop. A life I wanted to be a part of. "Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow?" I gulped.

"Of course, always," he giggled, walking away.

As he stepped out the door, I realized that he had left the wrapper of the candy cane on the counter. Subconsciously I picked it up and began wrapping the piece of cane he left with me. Once fully covered, I stuck it in the coin pocket of my jeans.

Chapter Text

After having so much conversation with Brandon, I couldn't just have 15 or so minutes a day. I needed more. I needed more than small talk.

I needed his number.

I brought it up with Dave and I thought he screamed so loud the whole block could hear him.

"Finally! Fucking finally this is going somewhere!" He squealed. You'd think I was going to propose to Brandon by the way Dave was acting.

He came in during his usual time, this time bringing someone in with him. He was very tall, very slender and very attractive. I could feel my heart sink to my ass. I couldn't pay too much attention to it, though. I had to attend to the other customers. I wasn't going to let some cute man with another cute man ruin my professional skills. The line went through quick and soon the two were up.

"I'll have a hot chocolate and he'll have the same," Brandon said. There was nothing abnormal in his tone, nothing off.

"Coming right up," I nodded. I couldn't help but clam up. It was either the man Brandon was with was his boyfriend or some pal.

"Two hot chocolates?" Dave exclaimed as I got to him. "What's goin' on?"

"He has -- he has someone with him. A tall man," I mumbled.

"Ronald, not every tall man is a boyfriend."

"It seems like it."

I glanced back at them. They were away from the counter and Brandon was laughing at something the man had said. I was hoping he looked at everyone like that.

"Alright, don't get your heart broken," Dave sighed, giving me the drinks.

"Yeah, okay," I muttered and headed towards them. I put the hot chocolates down and they grabbed then before I could say anything.

"Oh, Ronnie, this is Mark, Mark, meet Ronnie," Brandon said.

"Hey," Mark greeted with a simple nod.

"Hey," I responded, definitely not sounding like myself. I didn't want to make it sound aggressive or passive, so it just fell out.

"See you tomorrow," Brandon said, already stepping away with Mark.

"Okay, bye," I choked, but I was saying it to the back of their heads.

Yeah, so anyone could tell the rest of the day was pretty garbage. So garbage that Dave forced us to switch roles.

"What's up?" Dave tried to ask me as we were closing down.

"I don't know, it's petty," I grumbled.

"It probably is, but I'd still like to know."

"I guess I've already gotten so used to having small talk with Brandon that seeing him rush out is unsettling."

"Oh, dude -- that really is petty -- are you sure that's why you're so upset?"

"Ugh, no, and the guy he was with. I'm so scared that guy's his boyfriend. His name is Mark, everyone falls in love with a Mark."

"You're overthinking this. Giving yourself a reason to pussy-out on ever making an advance."

I remained silent. Why did he always have to be right?

"If you really like Brandon this much and you want to be in a relationship with him, you have to tell him eventually."

"I know."

"You do want that, don't you? You want him to feel the same way about you as you do about him."

"Yes, God, of course. I want him to -- I -- I want him."

"Then there are risks you have to take."

And the damned curly fucker was right as always.

****

The following night was an agonizing one. One of me crying and watching awful Christmas romances. One of me stopping my crying to jerk off to the thought of Brandon and then returning to crying. It was absolutely fucked.

In the early hours of the morning, about four o'clock, I decided to go bed. By 'go to bed' I mean lay in my covers and think about my what little of a relationship I have with Brandon.

On one hand, I could be 100% certainly right about Mark being Brandon's boyfriend. On the other, Dave could be right about Mark not being Brandon's boyfriend and Brandon could be in my possession.

50/50. I decided to flip a coin. I slipped out of bed and searched for one in my junk drawer. I took a quarter out and stood in the middle of my bedroom.

"Heads Mark's Brandon's boyfriend, tails he's not," I told myself. I flipped the quarter and watched it land on the floor. I leaned over to look at it. "Heads? Fuck damnit!" I picked it up. "Best two out of three!" I flipped it again. Heads. Again. Tails. "Okay, one more time." Tails.

I threw the quarter against the door and flopped back onto my bed. I screamed into my pillow, wanting to cry, but I think my tears had ran out, so I was left with this dull pain in my chest.

Chapter Text

Dave saw me drinking coffee and didn't even question it. "We need to get you with that boy, drinking all this coffee can't be good for your health," he muttered.

"You drink it all the time," I pointed out.

"I made it."

I sighed and sat down at the table Brandon used to sit at. Not purposely, I don't think.

"Do you want me to ask him out for you? If we're reverting to the habits of middle school, then I can do that," Dave said.

"No -- No, no! Especially if he already has a boyfriend," I grunted.

"Ronnie--"

"Please don't. I want to do it on my own."

"Okay--okay."

****

Instead of Brandon coming in during his usual time, it was Mark. Even if him being Brandon's boyfriend was just my assumption, my blood still boiled at the sight of him.

It was difficult speaking to him like a normal customer. I kept picturing him in all my imaginations of Brandon. It was awful, a tragedy.

"What can I get you?" I asked him with a smile.

"Uhh -- two hot chocolates please," Mark responded.

"Can I get a name?" As if I didn't know. As if I didn't know. As if it wasn't burnt into my brain.

"Mark."

"That'll be 10 dollars."

He handed me ten dollars and that was the last of our communication. I moved over to Dave and handed him two cup.

"Umm...hello? What am I supposed to do with these? Piss?" Dave snorted.

"Oh fuck -- two hot chocolates," I blurted.

"Two, again? Is that tall boy back? I've got a baseball bat in my car, I can fight him."

"Yeah, he's here -- and Brandon's not. He's getting his fuckin' hot chocolate for him!"

Dave scoffed, "the audacity. I can fucking fight him, I swear. The bat's metal."

I shook my head. "I already regret feeling this attached to Brandon. He's so -- everything -- obviously someone's going to beat me to him."

Dave sighed, "just know that whatever happens, there's someone out there way better than him." He capped the drinks.

"Bullshit," I mumbled, taking the two cups from him.

I took a couple of deep breaths as I walked to Mark. I called his name, it came out normal, but what came out as he grabbed the drinks was not. "I'm sure you and Brandon are very happy together."

He was confused, I would be too if some dude serving me drinks suddenly came after my relationship. "Excuse me?" He said, it wasn't aggressive. It was genuinely confused.

"You and Brandon," I huffed.

He stared blankly at me for a moment. Then it looked like it clicked. He started laughing, it was a gentle and deep laugh, not a laugh coming from a man who's had basically a stranger be bitter towards his relationship. "Um, Brandon and I -- we're, uh, not together, I'm definitely straight."

What was it with Dave being right all the goddamned time?

"What? Y-you're not?" I blubbered. Even I couldn't tell why I was so surprised, there was hardly any evidence to support them being together.

"Yeah, we're just -- friends! I didn't know it was that weird to be seen with Brandon, I assumed he always comes here with other friends."

"Oh -- no he doesn't."

He raised his eyebrows, "you seem very concerned about Brandon's whereabouts."

I blushed. Shit. "I, um -- not really."

He chuckled, "you like him! Aw, I'm here for this!"

I was probably the most red in the face I've been in a while. "He's okay, I guess," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

"Well, Ronnie, I can inform you that he's indeed single and without preference. If he's that okay."

Mark flipped from a life destroyer to a life saver in a matter of a single conversation. Without preference, without preference, without preference. Oh God. "A-a-are y-you sure?" I sputtered.

"I know it's not really my business to tell you any of this, but I'm pretty sure he's mentioned that he's bisexual and has at least thought of having a boyfriend, if not has had a boyfriend."

My heart was doing things that only happened in Dr.Seuss books. I had no reason to stop fighting my feelings for Brandon anymore. He could like me. Brandon could be attracted to me.

"Thank you, Mark," I squeaked out.

"Not a problem. For as long as I've known him, no one's ever, ah, acted, I guess is the word, like this because of him."

"I don't believe that, he's like, a freakin' angel or something." At that point I had no idea what I was saying.

"Well," he began turning away, "you better go catch your angel, buddy."

As soon as Mark left I practically rolled myself to Dave. I wasn't even sure what to say to him, I was just feeling the entire spectrum of joy.

"My God, did you kill him?" Dave gasped.

I grinned, "he's single."

Dave let out a sigh of relief, "oh that's so great --"

"And he's bi."

Dave's mouth hung open. He widened his eyes and looked around out of disbelief. "Now that's fucking news right there! He likes the dick! He could like your dick!" He grinned back at me, then roughly pulled me into his arms, rocking me side to side, "Ronnie, you can finally ask him out...finally."

He let go of me and I stepped back. "Oh shit, I forgot, I'm ugly!"

"What?"

"I got so caught up in thinking of Brandon, I didn't even really think about me with Brandon. My ugly-ass."

"You're not even ugly, dude!"

"Compared to him! He looks like he's supposed to date a swimsuit model."

"People fall for people and it doesn't matter who." He scowled at me. "I thought you'd know that by now considering we've marched in at least twelve pride parades."

"Gods don't fall for mortals."

"Gods fell for mortals all the time, haven't you read Percy Jackson?"

"No."

"Okay then. Beyoncé."

"Oh."

"Oh."

Chapter Text

I didn't necessarily want things to be different after finding out Brandon could possibly be attracted to me if he wanted to, but things were. I was nicer to the customers, even if they had been complete dickheads previously. Dave and I didn't exchange any snarky remarks towards each other. Hell, I think I was humming along to the Christmas music we were softly playing over the store.

When it was time for Brandon to come in, he didn't. Which probably meant he was going to come during one of our dead hours. I was simultaneously so dead and so alive at the same time.

"Geez, Ronnie, we might as well stick you on top of the tree, you're glowing that much," Dave snorted, eyeballing me.

I realized I was grinning like a fucking moron and stopped. A couple of minutes of trying not to smile and staring at the door later, Brandon walked in, just like any other day.

"Hi, Ronnie," he said pleasantly, stepping up to the counter.

I cleared my throat to assure I didn't fuck up a simple task. "What can I get for you today?"

"Just the usual regular hot chocolate." He handed me his money, I put it in the register, then picked up a cup.

Upon walking up to Dave, he turned around with two prepared beverages in his hands. He sat one down and plucked the empty cup out of my hands, setting it on the counter. "Here. Two hot chocolates ready to go. Sit at a table, get to know each other a little."

I slowly grabbed the drinks in disbelief. "A-are you sure?" I whispered.

"Yes. I don't make free drinks for nothing."

I took the drinks over to Brandon. "Umm...did you want to sit and talk...with me...possibly?" I choked out as I handed him his drink.

"That'd be wonderful," he beamed.

Wonderful. How lovely could a person be to use "wonderful" in a casual sense? I walked around the counter, following Brandon to an empty table. We ended up sitting at the one his old usual table.

"So, how are you?" He asked as soon as we were settled.

"Pretty great, actually. You?"

"Good."

"That's good."

He took a sip of his drink. "How long have you been working here?"

"Ahh, about 15 years, when Dave and I graduated college. We were both pretty unmotivated, so we decided to just open a coffee shop. I didn't really anticipate for it to grow into this, but I like it, I'm happy.... What about you? What do you do, Brandon?"

"I take on temporary jobs here and there. Mark and I are putting a little bit more time in this project we're working on."

"A project?"

"Music. I sing."

"You can sing?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"Are you good?"

"I don't have the best voice, I don't know, I think maybe I'm okay." He shifted his gaze away from me and started to fidget a little.

I didn't want to tell him, but I felt like he probably had the greatest voice to graze the earth. "Well, that's okay, as long as you enjoy what you're doing."

He looked up at and smirked a little. He was so cute, the feelings building in my chest were overwhelming. I had to do something. So gently, I tapped his foot with mine against the table. His smirk grew as he tapped back. I didn't know if we were flirting or being manly-bro-dudes by playing footsie.

"Brandon...what's your full name?" I asked, slowly moving my foot from his.

"Middle name, Richard, last name, Flowers," he answered. "Your's?"

I couldn't believe his name resembled what I've felt about him. Richard, A.K.A Dick, A.K.A what I've been chasing for so long. Flowers, a thing so feminine and delicate, qualities that Brandon had just enough of. "Middle name, Dante. Last name, Vannucci. I'm a junior by the way," I said, answering his "your's?"

"Sounds very Italian," Brandon mumbled, kind of dreamily, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on his hand. "A junior huh? You take after your pops, mmm?"

"Pretty much," I chuckled. We stared at each other for a moment. I didn't know someone could so quickly transition from fidgeting to holding long eye contact. "Brandon Flowers..." I wanted to ignore how right his name sounded sliding off my tongue. "What's your phone number?"

He abruptly sat back and burst into his giggly-laugh. "I'll write it down for you -- do you have a pen?"

Shakily, I handed him the sharpie in my pocket. "Don't think I was planning this -- because I wasn't. That pen's the one I write people's names with!" I protested.

He laughed again, grabbing my cup and writing the number on the cardboard holder. When he gave it back, it took a lot of me not to stare at his handwriting in detail. "It's not fake is it?" I chuckled, half joking.

He shook his head, "of course not, you're not some sleazy guy in a bar."

How many fake numbers have you given to sleazy guys in bars? What bars to you go to? I wondered.

"Alright, boy-space-friends, I hate to interrupt, but we're running a coffee shop here and customers are supposed to come rushing in, in ten minutes," Dave announced, stepping out of the back room.

Miraculously, Brandon and I turned to look at each other at the same time. "I'll call you tonight," he stated, standing up.

"I'll answer," I blushed. Jesus. I was blushing like a school girl.

He smiled and left. As soon as he did, Dave came flying over to me, throwing himself in Brandon's chair. "He gave you his phone number?!" He cheesed.

I grinned widely, "he did!"

"This is so exciting! Ronnie, you're going to have a boyfriend!"

"He's, like, a man friend."

"Ha! With the last name, Flowers?"

"Wait -- where you listening to our conversation?!"

"Perhaps."

"Jesus, David."

****

Soon customers filed in. The first one ordered their drink as usual, but when I reached in my pocket for my sharpie, I realized that Brandon had taken it. I guess we had something to discuss over the phone.

Chapter Text

I suppose it was exciting that I was finally advancing somewhere with Brandon, but waiting for his call wasn't anything less than awful. I felt like I was a teenager again -- except gayer. Oh, so much gayer.

I've never been the type to flaunt around my sexuality. You'd catch me dead before you'd catch me talking about my amount of gayness; however, on the night of Brandon's awaited call, I was so homosexual I couldn't believe it. I swear I was thinking of Brandon's fast-growing stubble for at least 30 minutes. I have a whole fucking beard and I'm enchanted by some stupid man's stubble. I almost smacked myself when I started smirking at the concept of what sound our facial hair would make if it met. Extreme Homo.

That's about when my phone started buzzing rapidly on my chest. It was only then that it occurred to me how embarrassing Brandon's name in my phone was. It was just "Flowers" with all the hearts after it. After that moment of embarrassment, I was never going to tell myself that there aren't levels of gayness.

I shakily answered the phone. "Hey," I managed.

"Hi! Is this Ronnie?" Brandon giggled.

"Maybe," I said, grinning like a fucking fool. If Dave was there with me, he'd literally gag.

"I'll take that as a yes! How are you?"

I couldn't believe it, his voice was even more gentle on the phone. "I'm good, very good. How about you?"

"I'm great! I just finished working on the project with Mark, he just left."

Did he really call me immediately after they were done?

"Cool --I wanna hear it someday, play it for the whole shop to hear. I bet it sounds wonderful." I was really pushing our friendship limit.

"One of these days."

There was a silence between us, all I heard was the tiniest sound of Brandon breathing. "I can't believe I called you with nothing to talk to you about."

"We can talk about my sharpie that you stole."

"Oh my God! I almost forgot about that! I'll bring it back to you, I swear."

"You don't have to..."

"I'm going to anyway."

I fucking love him, what the hell?

"Alright. I could get a new one for a dollar, but alright." More silence. More gentle breathing. Then I could hear him softly giggled. I wanted to roll off my bed and fall into a dark, dark pit. "What?" I mumbled.

"This is still weird for me."

I snickered, "what's weird about it?"

"Just how we met, I didn't think the guy serving me coffee could make me feel--"

He stopped. I was suddenly very panicked and shaken. Was he going to finish his sentence with something that could let everything fall into place? My head kept repeating, "this way, this way, this way," over and over again. It just seemed like the only thing that could do the trick. "F-feel?" I stammered.

"Like I have friends," he laughed sheepishly.

I returned to my less-panicked state. "Ha, I'm sure Mark appreciates that."

"Don't get me wrong, Mark's great, but I like knowing there are other people in my life too."

"What -- don't you have family?"

A pause even more uncomfortable than the one before rushed over our call. I had made a drastic mistake.

"Well..." he breathed out a bit shakily. "Not really -- i-it's not like anything too terrible happened -- it could have been worse."

"Did you want to talk about it?"

More silence.

"Yeah, okay. I think that would help me."

I gulped. It didn't sound like he had ever talked about this with someone else.

"Okay, well, um...let's start out with the fact that I'm not exactly straight and that my family's not exactly, ah, progressive, I guess. There wasn't this big 'I came out and now they hate me' fiasco -- I just haven't come out. There it is. There's the problem. I'm just so scared that they'd hate me. I don't this makes sense."

"Oh -- no, no, it makes perfect sense. Er -- I'm gay and I've had the same fears."

There I was, coming out to the guy I've fancied for months. A strange thing. It became even stranger when he began laughing.

"What?" I snorted. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's not funny at all -- I just would have never guessed..."

"Oh yeah, the beard typically hides the fact that I like me some good man."

He began laughing again, "oh man, I'm awful about assuming things."

It was official, Brandon was a pure baby-gay. I wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. "It's okay, enough about me, continue your little story."

"Oh right -- my mom passed away last year, which, obviously, was so awful for my family and me. I just couldn't come out to them after it, it would just be the straw that breaks the camel's back."

"Gosh Brandon -- I'm so sorry."

"I think she was probably the only one to sense it. She never asked me about girlfriends."

I really wanted to physically do something. Maybe crawl through the phone and comfort him, tell him that everything will be okay.

"But yeah," he continued, "that's it, I haven't talked to my family since her death because I couldn't bear holding in this big secret around them."

I whispered, "I want to hug you," not loud enough that he could definitely hear it, but just enough so that I could hear the words ring around me.

"What?" He asked, confused.

I took a deep breath. "I want to hug you," I said, definitely loud enough.

He chuckled softly. "I could use a hug -- maybe you could hug me tomorrow."

I didn't want to seem desperate, but I quickly spat, "come in early tomorrow -- if you can -- if you want to."

"Just for a hug?"

"A hug and a free hot chocolate."

"I picked the right person to be friends with."

Chapter Text

The morning after Brandon and I's phone conversation, I found him sitting on the bench outside the shop. "Wow, early than me, impressive," I commented as I took out my keys.

"Yeah, and it's cold, you should make me two hot chocolates for this," he shivered, shoving his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he was wearing.

"Okay, but I'll be drinking the second one." I opened the door and held it open for Brandon. He scurried in, I smiled and followed after him. I walked behind the counter as he picked a table to sit out.

"We're all alone, huh?" Brandon spoke as I began making the two hot chocolates.

"Yeah, Dave's probably not going to get here in the next 30 minutes." Christ. It sounded like we were going to fuck right on top of the coffee machine.

I finished the two drinks and went to the table, "sorry if it's not as good, Dave's the best at making the drinks," I said putting the two cups down. I sat and watched Brandon take a sip of it.

"Still good," he smiled.

I smiled back, still completely aware that we were alone in a big coffee shop and completely aware that if we were a couple, we would already be making out on top of the table, screw the chocolate.

"Can I get my hug now?" He pouted.

I couldn't believe I almost forgot. "Of course!" I exclaimed too eagerly.

He stood up and stretched his arms out. I quickly shot out of my seat before my heart could melt and kill me. I practically fell into his arms and wrapped mine around his waist. It was so surreal to feel so many tiny details of him. The way his stubble prickled my neck, the curve of his back against my arms, the feel of his chest against mine, each time I breathed in, I inhaled his scent -- I felt as though the weight of his arms around my neck was what kept me from floating.

I felt him bury his face into the crook of my shoulder and nuzzle me. At that point, it dawned on me that friends didn't hug each other like we did. He wasn't pulling a single part of himself away and neither was I. I felt whole hugging Brandon, which wasn't a feeling I got hugging Dave, an actual friend.

"You're very warm," he muttered into my shoulder.

"You give good hugs," I decided to say.

We let go of each other and I felt imbalanced immediately after. We sat back down and drank our hot chocolate and I pretended as if our hug didn't change my life.

Eventually, Dave burst in. "Ronnie, why is there a customer before opening hours?"

"He's not a customer," I was looking directly at Brandon, "he's our friend." I glanced at Dave who rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Brandon, but just because you're our friend doesn't mean you get free drinks -- Ronnie did he pay for that?"

"Uh..."

"For God's sake, I knew you were whipped, but I didn't think you were this whipped."

Blushing, I glanced between Brandon and Dave. "I-I'll pay for it," I stuttered in defeat.

"No need," Dave replied with a growing smirk. "You just did."

Brandon was also smirking at me and at that point I wanted to turn myself in coffee grounds.

Dave fiddled around with some things around the counter and spoke again, I was terrified that he would try to expose me again. "Well, Brandon, because you are our friend, I suppose you'd like to come to our Christmas party?"

I quickly shot my gaze to Brandon. "Totally," Brandon nodded, "give me the info."

"December 23rd, seven o'clock, here at this coffee shop."

"This better be a good party, Ronnie," Brandon said towards me.

"It will! Dave makes his specialty drinks, lots of music, people and lights! Fun times."

"I'll be there."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from showing my great excitement. I could picture the Christmas party in my mind at that moment. The main lights shut off, only the Christmas lights on. I glanced at Brandon and thought of the sight he must be under the dimmer glow of the Christmas lights. I'd probably explode.

"Fantastic. I should probably buy more mistletoe -- hmm, Ronnie, have you seen my mistletoe on a stick? I forgot what function it had." Dave hummed. I looked up to see that he was actually wiggling his eyebrows at me. I gave him a look that hopefully said, "you hang that thing over Brandon and me and I'll shove it up your asshole."

Brandon laughed, "you have one of those?"

"Yes, it's a hoot dangling it above drunken people, it's almost like playing God."

Note to self, don't get drunk, Dave will play God on you and your soft friend-crush. "That's why we don't have any friends, he creates drama between us all and no one knows what he's done," I scoffed.

"That's amazing," Brandon giggled.

"It's not amazing if he dangles it above your boyfriend and your best friend and they start tongue kissing like they were going to die if they didn't," I grumbled.

Brandon's eyes widened, "that happened?" His eyes shifted between Dave and me.

"In my defense, that was the last time I whipped it out," Dave chuckled awkwardly.

"It was not a fun year," I sighed.

Brandon looked sincerely apologetic. "Gosh, Ron, I'm so sorry."

It's okay because if it didn't happen I wouldn't allow myself to be floored by you. "He was awful in bed anyway," I deadpanned.

Brandon looked away and quietly giggled to himself. I would be a liar if I said I didn't want to scoop him up and keep him safe forever.

"I'll be more careful this year," Dave claimed. "I will only go for people who won't conflict the earth."

I knew he was going to put it above Brandon and I. Even if he were to never admit it out loud to me, he was going to do it. A large part of me would rather be run over by a bus than have Dave dictate a kiss between Brandon and me. I also knew I wouldn't be able to do it myself.

Chapter Text

Dave and I came in the shop later in the afternoon on the 23rd of December. Dave created his specialty drinks and put out the food, I took care of everything none-consumption related.

"Oh, yes, 'tis the season!" Dave sang as he finished up his drinks. "Peppermint Oreo Jell-O shots! Ronnie, am I a genius or am I a genius?!"

I smirked, continuing to set up the music playlist, "you're a genius, Dave."

Dave strutted over to me and leaned over my shoulder. "What's on it this year? You got any songs you'd make out with Brandon to?"

"Shut the fuck up," I laughed, shaking my head.

"You're like this now, but you're gonna think of me when you shove your tongue down Brandon's throat to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'."

"We're not going to make out, Dave."

"And I'm not gonna grind with the hot hair stylist down the street. Don't lie, it's Christmas."

"I don't think Christmas is exactly the time of year for a guy to hook up with a guy."

"Well -- I mean, technically it's not yet Christmas."

"It's close enough."

"Man, do you even want to make out with, Brandon? Ever?"

"I mean, yes, of course, but I really don't want to drag him into an uncomfortable situation tonight."

"You want him to make the move? Jesus, Ronald, you're such a teenage girl."

Dave just didn't understand. He really thought I was on the same level as Brandon. Maybe he was just hopeful for me -- anyone who looked at me and then Brandon and thought we were in the same league was delusional.

I checked on the lights, making sure the place was lighted to portray the right mood. Festive and exciting. Dave began organizing his drinks so that none of them were ignored. He also put out some beers and soda. I placed some snacks around for good measure, then tested the karaoke machine.

God forbid I get drunk and do karaoke in front of Brandon, I thought after testing it, putting it back in its right place. We moved the tables and cleared up some space for people. Our little coffee shop slowly became a coffee -- club.

People started showing up at around 7:15. Mostly people from the businesses surrounding us. I started playing my music playlist when more than ten people showed up. Typically it isn't until Dave's friends show up that the party stops looking like a hipster gathering. They showed up at eight, and by then I was anxious that Brandon wasn't going to show up.

I sat at the counter, periodically checking my phone just in case Brandon called or texted me. By 8:15 I had given up hope, it seemed clear that Brandon wasn't going to show.

Dave sat next to me, noticing my blue state. "Hey man, you alright?" He asked, wrapping an arm around me.

"Brandon didn't show," I sighed. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from tearing up.

"Shit, man, you don't need him anyway, there's tons of people out here."

But I want Brandon, I thought, and it almost shattered my heart. I buried my head in my hands and tried my damnedest not to start crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's Christmas, let's be happy," Dave tried comforting me, patting my back.

"I'm a fucking idiot, Dave, aren't I?" I managed to shutter out.

"No -- you're not an idiot, man."

"I was right, someone that amazing can't be in my presence."

"Um, I don't mean to intrude, but what's wrong, Ronnie?" I heard a voice above me say. My heart jumped, it was Brandon -- it was Brandon's soft and beautiful voice talking to me.

I pulled my hands away and looked up to see him standing with Mark. "Hi," Brandon grinned. "Are you okay?" Brandon was wearing an atrocious green sweeter with candy canes and ornaments. Two blue lights flashed where his nipples were.

We didn't even ask him to wear an ugly sweater. He just did. He was just amazing. "I am now," I mumbled, my heart speeding up.

Dave pulled his arm away from me, "hey there, I didn't think you'd show."

"Oh yeah, sorry, Mark and I weren't paying attention to the time," Brandon said sheepishly.

"I hope it's okay that I'm here," Mark chuckled.

"Of course! The more, the merrier! Help yourselves to some drinks and whatever! I'll see you guys later!" Dave exclaimed, slowly stepping away into the crowd.

Brandon sat where Dave was and Mark sat by him. We smiled at each other then slipped into a silence. Within a couple of minutes of silence, someone, presumably Mark's friends, started talking to Mark and pulled him away.

"So I guess it's just you and me now?" Brandon laughed awkwardly.

"Yup, I guess so," I responded. I paused then continued, "do you want to try Dave's drinks? They're pretty good."

"Yeah! Sounds awesome."

I lead him to Dave's station of drinks, and it was down eggnog hill from there.

****

I stopped counting how many Jell-O shots I had. Brandon's upper lip was coated with eggnog and various types of Dave's drinks. He looked delicious.

"They're so good, Ron!" Brandon hiccuped, holding a shot glass.

"Right?!" I giggled.

He grabbed another drink and gulped it down. "Okay! Okay! That was it!" He slurred, running his fingers through his hair.

"You're hair's so messy!" I snickered. "So -- poofy!"

He smiled and rested his head on my shoulder. "I wanna sing with you, Ronnie," he sighed, rubbing his forehead against my sweater.

"I wanna sing with you, too," I responded -- which was the phrase that confirmed my drunkness.

"We should sing, then," he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the karaoke machine. My drunk mind was telling me how fun it all was. The gathering crowd, me shouting, "we need to sing Mariah Carey." I was 100% definitely intoxicated both by the alcohol and the Brandon.

"Of course!" He shouted back and before I knew it, I had a microphone in my hand and the opening of "All I Want For Christmas Is You" was filling the air. We stood in front of a crowd of people, staring at each other as the instrumental played. I felt my heart stutter as he began.

He stumbled forward towards me, "I don't want a lot for Christmas," he was smirking and had this strange, sinister look in his eyes--like he was ready to serve me for Christmas dinner. "There is just one thing I need," he had stepped even closer to me, "I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree."

I had dropped my hands to my side, squeezing my microphone to remind myself of my existence. He raised his hand, his strangely large hand, to my face. "I just want you for my own," his fingertips grazed my cheeks, "more than you could even know," it was strange simultaneously feeling his skin graze mine while staring into his eyes. If I wasn't drunk, I would have spontaneously combusted at the lyrics he was singing to me. He was practically serenading me. I was sure I was having an alcohol induced hallucination. "Make my wish come true," he practically moaned the lyrics out. I was fucking hard -- rock solid, I was ready to cut him off right there, but I managed to hold myself back. We made the most intense eye contact as he sung out, "all I want for Christmas is you."

After the rapid piano chords started playing, everything became a blur. I was belting out lyrics I didn't think I knew. Brandon and I were dancing like the biggest morons on the planet. Mid-song, I realized how wonderful Brandon's voice was. Even slightly off key, it was the opposite of the softness he radiated. While I basked in his talent, he suddenly grabbed my hand and twirled me around. I let him without a moment of struggle. He stopped singing to grab both my hands and then it was the whole shop screaming out the lyrics. I was swing dancing with the man of my dreams to a Mariah Carey song. Even when I heard someone whistle at us, I didn't feel a bit of embarrassment. I was just focused on Brandon drunkenly smiling at me and everything spinning around us.

The music stopped and everyone stopped singing. A roar of applause erupted from the shop and Brandon and I took a bow. "That was...fun," he grinned standing up and looking at me.

"Only a little," I smiled back softly.

I scanned the crowd briefly and spotted Dave with his mistletoe. He was holding it about couples and laughing as they all kissed each other. I looked back at Brandon, it was only a matter of time before Dave came to us. I couldn't let that happen.

I was feeling brave, so I laced my fingers with Brandon. His face turned pink as he looked down at our interlocked hands. "What are you doing?" He whispered softly, I could barely hear him over the music.

"Follow me," I said and tugged on his hand.

Friends can hold hands, right? I thought in a fit of drunkenness. If you're four -- fuck friends.

I led him to the doorway between the counter and the bathrooms. Taped on the top of the doorway was a cluster of mistletoe. Dave had put it up there for decoration knowing that rarely more than one person a day used our bathrooms.

I noticed I was still holding Brandon's hand as we stood under it facing each other. We slowly let go and I watched as Brandon looked up. "Oh, I see," he said quietly. He looked back at me and stared for a moment. Abruptly, he leaned forward, landing his lips on mine, both of his hands against my cheeks, the tips of his fingers gently against my beard.

Once he pulled back I almost expected him to run. He seemed surprised at what he just did. Instead, he kissed me again, harder this time, his hands gripping onto my shoulders. Then a third time after he pulled back from the second.

"I'm sorry," he gulped.

"It's okay -- I don't mind," I croaked.

"I'm just...making sure you're real." He slid his hands down over my arms.

He still looked like his soft self, his cheeks pink from the alcohol and from being flustered. He looked beautiful.

"Your lips taste like eggnog," I breathed.

"Your's too," he gently giggled. He paused. "You know -- I'm still, like, a little drunk -- but I think I'd like to do this sober too."

"I like you with and without alcohol," I confessed.

He stood on his tippy-toes and quickly kissed my temple.

****

Eventually, Brandon and I ended up slouched on two chairs, staring at each other. We had drunken more of Dave's drinks, stupidly, and I was so drunk I could only think about Brandon's lips. As time passed the people around us began to leave.

"Okay, boy-space-friends, party's over -- I'm gonna drive you two home," Dave declared, stepping up to us.

I noticed that Mark was next to him. "Jesus -- they really are drunk," he mumbled. "Do you think...do you think they did it."

"WE DIDN'T HAVE SEX!" Brandon suddenly wailed, spazzing out.

"Okay -- he's drunker, he definitely drunker," Mark decided.

"Ronnie, buddy, can you get up?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, Davie," I staggered onto my feet. "I can dance too."

"Please don't," Dave muttered.

I threw my arm around him and kicked out my leg, then the other. "See? See, Dave?" I glanced to my left and saw Mark with his arms under Brandon's armpits, dragging him out of his chair. "Stop that!" I cried. I must have put my entire weight on Dave because he let out the most squashed and hurt grunt I've ever heard. "That is my boyfriend! Stop touching him there!"

"Ronnie, shut the fuck up," Dave grumbled in my ear.

"Boyfriend," Brandon giggled, a dopey expression on his face.

"The underarms are the most intimate place of a woman's!" I cried.

"Okay, yeah, sure," Dave sighed, pulling me towards the door.

****

Soon Dave was strapping me in the backseat of his car next to where Mark was strapping in Brandon.

"Thanks for doing this," Mark sighed as he adjusted Brandon's seatbelt.

"Not a problem," Dave said. "Thanks for helping me out."

They shut the doors and Mark walked over to Dave's side of the car. "You know they really like each other, right?"

Dave snorted, "one of them more than the other."

"I guess so -- Brandon doesn't really like talking about his love life, so we never know."

"They'll work it out, I'm sure. Have a goodnight, Mark."

"You too -- Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

Mark walked away and Dave walked around to the driver's seat. He didn't say anything as he started the car and started driving. I looked over at Brandon who was looking back at me. He smiled softly. "Can you believe we kissed?" He sighed.

Dave slammed the breaks, startling all of us. "David -- what the fuck is wrong with you?" I hiccupped.

"Jesus, nothing," Dave grumbled, accelerating again. "Just a bit -- shocked is all."

The car returned to silence and I directed my attention back to Brandon. I reached slid my hand to the middle seat in between us. Brandon gave me a confused look, not understanding my gesture. "Hold my hand, idiot," I whispered.

"Hold your hand? Oh -- okay!" Brandon giggled and grabbed my hand.

Soon we were in the parking lot of my apartment. I really didn't want to let go of Brandon's hand. Dave got out of the car and walked to my side, opening the door. "Ronnie, let's go."

My gaze shifted to Brandon's and my hand. "No," I stated simply.

"Even when you're drunk you're a ho for Brandon -- let's go, you can hold Brandon's hands going up to your place," Dave insisted.

I turned my head to Brandon, "will you hold my hand going up to my apartment?" He bobbed his head up and down. I turned my head to Dave, "okay, I'll get out." I removed my hand from Brandon's grasp and Dave helped me out of the car. With my arm wrapped around his shoulders, he walked me to the other side of the car and opened Brandon's door. Somehow, while holding me, he managed to unbuckle and pull Brandon out of the car as well as close and lock the car.

"You're so strong, Dave," I slurred.

"No, stop talking to me, I'm tired and I want to get rid of you two sack of potatoes," Dave snapped.

We managed to make it to my apartment. Dave surpassed determination, he didn't even ask me to unlock my door, he just reached into my front pocket and snatched my keys. He unlocked the door himself and dragged us inside. As soon as we stepped into the empty space of my apartment, he peeled us off him and dropped us in the middle of the floor. I didn't want to bother making my way to my room, besides, the floor was where Brandon was. Dave marched into my room and returned with a blanket which he draped over the both of us on the floor.

"Goodnight," he grumbled simply and left.

Chapter Text

I was momentarily confused when I woke up on my floor spooning Brandon. The events of the previous night slowly returned to me, and despite the raging hangover, I felt warm and happy. With a bit of struggle, I managed to sit up and look at Brandon. Like I've pictured, he looked angelic sleeping. I laid back down and hesitantly wrapped my arm back around Brandon. He stirred a little, pushing his body further back into mine and pulling up the blanket over his shoulder. I smiled fondly before drifting back to sleep.

When I awoke again, Brandon was awake and turned around, staring at me. "Hi," he whispered softly, then pulled the blanket over his mouth.

My heart reacted in a way so wild that I was surprised I didn't die. "Hi," I rasped back.

"So -- we're here, on your floor?" He chuckled lightly.

"I guess so."

I felt his hand move forward under the blanket, resting on my side. Like a flash of lightning, he moved forward and kissed me. "Sorry," he quickly apologized after pulling back. "I wanted to see what it was like kissing you sober."

"It's okay -- extremely okay."

"I liked it. I like kissing you."

"I like you in general."

He laughed, simultaneously turning onto his back. "Unreal -- you like me and I like you. The stars aligned."

"You act like you couldn't get anyone to like you."

"My crippling awkwardness masks my incredibly handsome looks. I don't have to be awkward around you -- I feel safe with you."

At that point, I figured it all had to be a dream. "Me? You feel safe with me?"

He turned his head to face me. "When you let me sit down on the bench one day and just -- talked to me -- well, I just felt like I could trust you," he let out a sigh, "besides, you're kind of cute. That helps."

I started smiling like an idiot. I felt insane because I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't think of anything to say, either. I was just happy.

Brandon abruptly sat up and cracked his back, "oof, this floor did a number on me -- you do have a bed, don't you?"

"Yeah," I grunted and sat up with him. I managed to stand up and offer Brandon my hand. He took it and stood up. I picked up the blanket and lead him to my bedroom. As soon as I opened the door, he lunged forward and dove into my bed.

He tossed and turned for a minute before settling facing my nightstand. I didn't even realize that the half candy cane he gave me was still sitting there. He grabbed it and stared at it for while. "Is this some kind of hangover induced déjà vu?" He questioned.

"Maybe," I mumbled, laying next to him. "Or maybe you gave it to me."

He laughed and spun around to face me. "This is the candy cane half I gave you? You kept it?"

"Maybe."

"That's a little weird."

"I'm also a little cute, you win some, you lose some."

He giggled, continuing to look at the candy cane. "I guess we're just peppermint to be."

I let out a long grunt, making him giggle more intensely. "You come into my home and you make such a terrible, dorky pun."

"Well, I'm cute, so -- you win some, you lose some."

The squeaking noise that came out of my mouth as I threw my arm around him was terrifying, 1. because it represented exactly how I felt (overwhelmed and in love) and 2. I was a grown-ass man and the squeak sounded like a sound a kitten would make if it was stepped on.

I buried my face in his shoulder and heard him set the candy cane back down. "And here I was thinking I was the less masculine out of the two of us," Brandon sighed.

"I'm manly, I promise."

Brandon suddenly gasped and hit me in the chest, "it's Christmas eve!"

"Ow -- yeah, sure is."

"And you didn't even decorate!" He sat right up. "We have to do Christmas things, Ronnie!" Suddenly he was straddling me and shaking my shoulders, "Christmas things!"

"Excuse me? I did decorate for Christmas, I decorated the shop."

"We're getting you a tree, ornaments -- lights! You can't forget about the lights."

Brandon stumbled out of the bed. "Where do you keep your clothes?"

I lazily gestured to my dresser and he immediately opened it, picking out some random black shirt and pulling off his sweater. I inhaled sharply, shocked by the sudden sight of Brandon's bare upper body. He pulled on my shirt like it was no big deal.

"C'mon now, we have to do Christmas things!" Brandon exclaimed.

"How are you not hungover?" I groaned, burying my head in my pillows.

Brandon shrugged, "I can power through a hangover -- you're a just a big baby."

"Once again, you come into my home--"

"C'mon get up!" Brandon jumped on me, straddling my hips, a scene I would never even imagine. "Get up! Get up!" He was bouncing on me and somehow it wasn't even the least bit erotic.

I laughed, grabbing onto his shoulders to make him stop. I observed him, my laugh fading into a smirk. "You look good in my shirt."

He bit his lip, "stop."

"You do! Don't deny, take my compliment -- take it hard!"

His cheeks turned a deep red, "take it hard, huh?"

I began blushing as well, "don't say another word."

He kept quiet as he climbed off me and out of bed again. He extended his hand -- and I guess that's how I began personally giving a shit about Christmas.

Chapter Text

Shopping on Christmas Eve was hectic. If I were alone, I'd walk right out of the store as soon as I set foot, but I was with Brandon. He didn't seem to mind the chaos and it calmed me down to see him content.

The Christmas section was practically wiped out. We managed to nab a fake, small Christmas tree and some lights, but the only ornaments available were crappy, strangely expensive Disney themed ones. I slowly turned to Brandon. He looked back at me and said, "we're getting them." He took every single ornament.

As we walked away from the Christmas section, he picked up a Belle ornament and a beast ornament. "Me," he said, holding up the Belle ornament, "you," he said holding up the beast.

"You sure have a way with words," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

He pouted, "isn't it romantic? I'm sorry, I'm not good at flirting."

I tipped my head in a way that signaled that I was ignoring him. Jokingly, of course. If I ever ignored him purposely, Dave would find me and slap me.

"Ronnie!" Brandon whined, still pouting. "You're my beeeeast!" He poked my chin. "You've got the hair to prove it!"

He was so cute, I was going to have a mental breakdown. "I suppose you're my Belle, considering you could never be the beast with your twelve chest hairs."

"Don't make fun of my chest hair! You should be grateful I took my shirt off in front of you!" He gestured to his torso. "It took me a long time to get to this."

I smirked, "I am grateful -- I love you and all twelve of your chest hairs, I really do."

He looked around, making sure no one was watching before he kissed my cheek. I sighed happily, feeling the human equivalent to a popsicle underneath a hair dryer.

****

"Look at that, big, big muscles," I teased as Brandon wobbled to my apartment with our tree in his arms.

"Sh-shut up," he growled.

I followed behind him with bags filled with the rest of our Christmas things. Which, with the Disney ornaments, also included tinsel and lights.

"Shit!" Brandon swore, as we arrived at my apartment door, which startled me. I'd never heard him curse before, it was both scary and hot. "Ronnie -- unlock the door -- please."

"You just -- cursed," I whispered.

"Oh -- was that the first time I've cursed around you? I'm -- sorry. Please open the door."

I unlocked and opened the door, allowing Brandon to stumble in and drop our tree on the floor. "I can't believe I've never heard you swear," I said coming in after him, plopping our decorations on the floor next to the tree.

"I try not to, I feel better when I don't," Brandon shrugged.

"I don't know -- I'm kind of terrified and aroused."

Brandon giggled, "stop -- we need to set this stuff up."

We dragged the box containing to the corner of the room before I grabbed a pair of scissors from my kitchen and cut the box open. We sat down by it and Brandon reached into it. He took out the bottom and a long pole. He then attached them together and grabbed the branches. I did the same and soon enough our tiny tree was finished.

"It looks...naked," I murmured.

"It looks perfect!" Brandon proclaimed. He grabbed the bags full of decorations. "It'll look even better with all this!"

We wrapped the lights and tinsel around it. Then we started putting up the shitty Christmas ornaments. Brandon had a Cinderella one in his hand. "Maybe we're more Cinderella than Beauty and the Beast," Brandon said.

"Yeah right, who's the prince?" I chuckled.

"Okay -- we're Sleeping Beauty."

"I certainly am not Aurora in this situation."

"Hmm...we're Anna and Kristof, Dave is Hans."

"Are you kidding? Dave would take offense to that. If anything we're the allegedly gay couple in the sauna."

"Tangled?"

"I'd die for you, but I wouldn't cut my hair for you."

"Then who are we?!"

"Brandon, we're the gay movie that Disney is hesitant about, but everyone wants. You're the handsome, dashing prince and I'm the damsel in distress."

"Why aren't you the prince?"

I looked at him and grabbed his wrist closest to me, forcing him to look back. "Because, if you're unaware, you're incredibly handsome, but you're also pretty. Also, sometimes strands of your hair come loose and it's such a specific detail, it's almost animated."

"Stop," he whispered, blushing, trying to pull his hand away. "Why do you say -- such nice things?"

I smiled and kissed his forehead before letting go of him. "Because I love you, dumbass," I said quiet enough that Brandon couldn't catch it right away, but loud enough that he could if he wanted. I slightly glanced at him and saw that he had a smirk on his face.

"I think I kinda love you too -- dumbass," he whispered softly.

At that point, I was a shell of my former self. I would have never thought of Brandon actually saying those words to me. Yes, there were short instances of me fantasizing how he would confess his love to me. I never pictured him gently whispering them as we hung Disney ornaments on a shitty Christmas tree in my apartment.

A silence between us followed. I was letting it all sink in and Brandon was letting me. We finished the tree in silence, which was broken when Brandon exclaimed, "let's turn on the lights!" He scrambled to the end of the cord and plugged the tree in. I watched as an expression of content appeared on his face as he looked at our tiny tree. "It's wonderful, Ronnie -- don't you think so?"

"It's pretty wonderful," I said softly.

Brandon crawled back over to me. "It's not much, I know. The shop's is way better -- but this one is our's."

I cried. I seriously started to cry. Brandon and I had something that was ours. There was something in existence that was a product of Brandon and me together.

"Ronnie -- are you crying?" Brandon giggled.

"Maybe," I sniffled.

"Why?"

"I don't know -- I love you so much it's overwhelming."

Brandon smiled sympathetically before wrapping his arms around me from my side. He squeezed my shoulders tight and I felt him kiss my shoulder before resting his head there. I closed my eyes and reached up, holding his arm stretched across my chest.

"Ronnie," he whispered after awhile.

"Yeah?" I whispered back.

"I wanna see my family."

I paused and began processing his words. He wanted to visit his family. The family he hadn't see since his mother died. "Okay, you should," I decided to say.

"I want you to see my family too, I want my family to see you. I - I want my family to see me -- to know who I am," Brandon continued, starting to squeeze me harder.

"A-are you sure you want me to come? It's so -- early. Like, beyond early, like, we just woke up together today, early."

"I trust you. Can I trust you?" He let go of me and rested his hand on my knee, gently squeezing it. "You don't plan on leaving me right? They're just my family, anyway. Aren't you supposed to meet the folks on the first date?"

I took a deep breath. "Of course you can trust me -- of course I'll go with you...of course I'll meet your family. Even if they probably won't like me."

"Of course they'll like you! You're all big and manly -- they'll see you and know you'll protect me."

I moved my hand to Brandon's on my knee. I slowly laced them together before speaking again, "I think you're protecting me."

"I think we're willing to protect each other." He smiled at me -- it would have been weird if I didn't smile back.

Chapter Text

On Christmas morning, Brandon left my apartment to go back to his place and pack as well as find plane tickets. I called Dave to talk about all of it.

"Damn! I've never heard of a drunken kiss lead to meeting the family!" Dave exclaimed as soon as I explained to him the situation.

"I know! It's crazy, I feel like I'm dreaming. He wants me to meet his family -- it's crazy."

"You're damn fucking right it's crazy. It's Christmas day, so all the flights are gonna be booked, two days ago if I even suggested the idea that you flirt with Brandon, you would have killed me -- I don't even know what's happening, to be honest!"

I sighed, a little too dreamily, probably enough to freak Dave out even more. "But you know what? I want this, I really do -- and he also does, so who am I to deny him?"

"Well...okay. I guess you should take these kinds of risks in life, but don't get hurt, alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you mentioned that Brandon's family aren't super 'GAY IS OKAY', which is the reason he hasn't come out to them in the first place. I'm just scared that they're totally not going to be okay with it -- and what if that crushes Brandon? You can't be in a relationship if he feels guilty about it."

"We just never know, Dave -- what if his family is accepting? I don't want to miss out on my opportunity to show Brandon how wonderful it feels to be loved in the way he wants to be."

"I can only wish you luck, Ronnie."

"Thank you."

"I'm hopeful, really I am. I want this to work out for you two."

I smiled, though Dave was a pain in the ass half of the time, it's the other half of the times like that when I was really grateful for him. "Thank you, Dave. I hope you have a great Christmas."

"You too, Ronnie. I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

****

Brandon called an hour later. "I've got the plane tickets -- but they're for the 29th. I guess maybe we could stay for New Year's."

I automatically thought about kissing Brandon entering the new year. "Oh! Yeah, that's great."

"Do you want to stay at my place for Christmas?" Brandon asked, a bit shyly. "Or -- do you have plans?"

"Are you kidding me? Spend Christmas with the best person alive? If I had plans I'd cancel them immediately!"

Brandon giggled, "do you want to stay overnight?"

"Hell yeah! I'll pack my bags -- come pick me up."

"Okay -- see you then."

"Bye, bye!"

I practically sprinted to my closet where I yanked a backpack from the clutter. I shoved some clothes in and ran to the bathroom and threw in his toothbrush. I was basically set. I dragged the backpack out to his living room and sat down at his little tree. I thought of how bizarre my situation was and telling my past self about it. "Hey, you know that cute guy who always orders the seasonal drinks? You're gonna be super in love with him. You're going to spend Christmas with him. He's going to bring you to meet his family during New Year's."

I heard a knock on the door and like a dog, I ran to it. Before opening it, I took a deep breath and then there he was -- Brandon.

"Are you set?" Brandon smiled, head tilting a little.

"Yup -- do you want to come in for a bit?"

Brandon stepped in passed me and plunked down by my backpack. "Have you ever thought of getting, I don't know, chairs?"

"No, never in my life."

He stared at me, probably realizing that he fucked up by coming into my house. I laughed, "yeah, of course, I've thought of getting chairs, but there was really no point up until now -- I spent most of my time in my room and nobody came over."

"If we ever move in together, we're gonna have couches."

I sat down next to him. I was surprised when he immediately scooted closer and rested his head on my shoulder. I glanced down and watched as he grabbed my wrist and moved my hand into his lap. As he slowly intertwined our fingers, I realized I was really fucked. Like, over the moon fucked.

"I love you," I heaved. It came out like I was shitting through my mouth.

Brandon chuckled, "what was that? Say it again, except, not like you've been impaled."

"I love you, like, I really do," I whimpered.

"Hmm -- you sure don't sound like a man I woke up with a day ago."

"Because maybe I've liked you for awhile now and that like just kind of -- got really intense."

He lifted his head off my shoulder, I turned my head to face him. He slowly smirked. "So what you're saying is -- you had a crush on me."

I looked away from him, "that's exactly not what I'm saying."

"I knew writing my name down wrong on my cup was flirting!"

"Grown men do not have crushes--"

"Mark told me I was crazy! Ha!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and rocked me side-to-side. "You had a crush on me! You had a crush on me!" I was about to argue when he stopped rocking me, but then I managed to face him again. His smile was wider than I had ever seen, so wide I could see his gums. The crinkles by his eyes were more prominent than ever, I was pronounced dead by myself right there on the scene.

"Yeah...so I guess you could say I had a small 'crush' on you," I murmured in defeat.

He stopped smiling and grabbed my face. It's probably impossible to die twice, but I did when he kissed me. "It's okay," he whispered when he pulled back, "I kind of did too."

I let out a short laugh, "really?"

He blushed, "have you seen my Instagram?"

I couldn't believe it was only then when I realized that I needed to stalk him on social media. I intensely stared at him, "show me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a couple of swipes and taps, he was on his Instagram. He handed it to me.

Within the first glance, I spotted a picture of a coffee cup. I tapped on it and read the description.

The cute guy who serves me coffee wrote my name wrong for the third time. "Generic brand name." Yup, he's flirtin' with me.

I bit down on my bottom lip and scrolled through some more until I scrolled onto a picture of -- me. I was just standing at the counter, looking directly at the camera.

I guess he thinks he's subtle...?

I turned Brandon's phone back to him. "Um? Excuse me?" I coughed.

He looked at it and giggled. "Don't pretend like you never stared directly at me when we were alone."

I gave him back his phone and cover my eyes with a hand in embarrassment. "I thought I was subtle. I might as well have yelled, 'YOU'RE VERY CUTE' at you like I wanted to."

Brandon scrolled down more, "I'm much worse," he said bluntly. He showed me another picture and the caption. The picture was of me from behind, talking to Dave. The caption read:

Is he even REAL?!

"Are you kidding me?!" I yelped. "You were saying things like this months ago and we're just now revealing all this?"

Brandon shrugged, "you just seemed unrealistic."

"Me?! Unrealistic?!" I was beyond baffled.

"I just -- I guess I wasn't sure guys were attracted to me," he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I'm still not sure if they are."

"I'm very attracted to you," I said the words as quickly as I thought of them.

He grinned at me, it was almost a sad grin. "See, that's still unrealistic to me."

I didn't know what else to say to him that would make him know, without a doubt, that I was attracted to him. So I repeated my words, "I'm very attracted to you." In the heat of the moment, I kissed his neck.

He tensed up, "your beard's prickly," he whispered. Audibly, he gulped. I smirked at him, I couldn't believe the person who made me melt time after time was melting because of me.

In a fit of confidence, I gripped onto his thigh and moved my lips near his ear. "I want to show you how attracted to you I am, one day."

"Oh fuck, that's really hot -- okay," he growled before grabbing my face and kissing me like every single feeling we've ever had towards each other lived on our lips.

He was making these insane sounds that I could never picture while jerking off. Gasps, gentle groans, off-pattern breathing -- things that were just too human to fantasize about. Just the sound of our lips seemed too real to be real.

I was gripping onto the back of his shirt as he slowly pushed me down and crawled on top of me. We were trying our hardest not to disconnect our lips as we moved. His hands stayed on my face and my own traveled up and down his back. As his shirt slipped up and the skin of his lower back became exposed to me, I took my mind off our lips and to that section of bare skin. It was mine to lay my fingers on. As I let them dance one by one on his skin, I felt like I was trespassing.

He was suddenly smiling against my lips. I opened my eyes for a second, then Brandon pulled back. "That tickles," he chuckled softly.

I furrowed my brow and brushed my fingers against his back again, he giggled in response. I sighed, "I love you so much. It's almost concerning how much I love you."

"We should go to my place now," he said. "I changed my sheets for you and everything."

I inhaled deeply as I removed my hand from his back and moved it to his face. I exhaled as I rubbed his cheekbone with my thumb. "Okay," I responded softly.

Chapter Text

Brandon lived in a town house much bigger than my apartment. He had couches and an order to everything. Where he lived was very him.

"Do you want something to drink?" He offered as I sat on one of two his couches.

"No thanks -- I really want you, though," I replied. So I was thirsty, but in a completely different way than how Brandon offered to quench.

He brought himself onto my lap. "Well -- I'm having a very merry Christmas."

There was an inch between our lips when I realized something very important. "Brandon, we don't have any presents for each other."

He leaned back, "if we're going to be honest here, you are my present."

I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest. "That's fucking corny," I laughed.

"Mmhm, now let me have my present," he breathed, grabbed my face and pulled our lips together.

****

Laying against a broad man under a soft blanket wasn't something I thought I needed. This was before I crawled next to Brandon laying on his couch, rested my head on his chest, then had him pull a blanket over us both. The situation was right next to water, shelter, and food on my list of things I needed.

We ended up watching a marathon of old Christmas movies. I couldn't stand watching them alone, so to feel Brandon's chest vibrate against me each time something cheesy happened was a great feeling.

Every once in a while, during commercials, Brandon would let out a short chuckle then murmur, "you're cute," to which I responded with, "I could destroy you, Flowers." Then he'd kiss my forehead, and I'd know that the reverse was true. He really could destroy me.

The movies ended eventually and Brandon had to turn off the TV. After, we just laid in the darkness, too comfortable to get up. I felt myself slowly drifting off to sleep. "Brandon," I murmured, half because I needed his attention, half because I liked saying his name.

"Yeah?" He breathed.

"This is the best Christmases I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You must have had some pretty shitty Christmases."

I didn't want to move my arms to smack him, so I softly bit his chest.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, then chuckled a little, rubbing where I bit. "I'm kidding -- I'm glad I could be part of your best Christmas."

"You're already such a good boyfriend," I yawned.

I felt his fingers thread through my hair, "hmm, would you look at that, the manly-man who could destroy me is just a soft baby."

"I could destroy you," I sniffed and nuzzled his chest. Suddenly I came back to the reality that what was happening was a little too perfect. It was a record scratch and the whole world's weight falling on me feeling. I was being this vulnerable to someone who had just found out I had feelings for him.

Brandon noticed my sudden mood change, "what's wrong?"

"Do you think we're going too fast?" I murmured.

"Not at all."

"Are you sure -- we barely know each other."

"In our defense, we liked each other way before."

I shoved my face in his chest. "I just don't want to mess this up."

He ran his fingers through my hair, "you won't -- we won't mess this up. If either one of us wants to take it slow, we can, and no one will get hurt, is that okay?"

I looked up at him, "Are you sure you won't be mad?"

He smiled softly, "of course not, I'd hate to lose you...are you still okay with meeting my family?"

"I am -- are you okay with them rejecting us?"

"What do you mean?"

I put my head down again and faced away from him so he couldn't see me getting emotional. "You wouldn't leave me because they don't like us, right."

I could feel him tense up.

"I don't think it's -- it's," my voice was shaking, "it's not a good idea to meet them if their opinion could jeopardize what little we have."

"No, no -- it's not like that," he started running his hand up and down my back, trying to comfort me, "no matter what they say, I'll want to be with you. We're the only two in this relationship, therefore the only two who have a say in it."

His words stirred up a strange feeling in my chest as if my heart was actually melting. I sighed, "stupid boy, you're too good."

He let out one of his dumb giggles, "I'm trying, I'm trying."

"So just to be clear -- we'll be together no matter what and the only thing that'll break that is ourselves."

"Correct."

I pushed myself up so we could meet face to face. "Are you sure?"

He gently cupped my face, "yes, Ronnie." He ran his hand up and slicked my hair back. "Can I get a kiss?"

I rolled my eyes, "I guess." We gently kissed and Brandon moved his hand from my hair to down my back. I pulled away, "I feel..." I began, "I feel safe."

Brandon sat up and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "I want you to," he whispered, "I'm trying."

Chapter Text

Being in an airport with a man you've for the past couple of months only observed from a distance was strange. Being in a relationship with that man and waiting at the gate for a plane that will bring you both to his hometown is even more strange. Around us were disgruntled post-Christmas travelers and in any other situation I'd want to end my life in that situation -- but with Brandon holding my hand behind our bags, I wanted to end my life significantly less.

Brandon looked at me and noticed my discomfort. "Hey," he whispered behind our bags sitting on the chairs between us. I reluctantly looked at him. "I love you."

He was so nice it was annoying. "I'm gonna tickle you through the entire flight."

He chuckled, "good, I hate flying."

"What?"

"Yeah. I hate it so much -- I get scared every time."

I laughed, "God, that's adorable as if I couldn't love you more!"

"There's nothing adorable about having a panic attack in the sky."

"Is this -- why you're holding my hand right now?"

"Yes -- but I also like holding hands with attractive people."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

He gave me a Brandon trademarked grin, one so pure I wished I could capture it. He squeezed my hand and turned away from me. It took me a minute to peel my eyes off him. When I did, it took me no more than 10 seconds to start staring at him again. To have him there to look at whenever I pleased was too good to be true, so I decided to look at him as much as I could to savor the moment.

****

Brandon's mood drastically changed when we started boarding. He was pale as we walked down the ramp to the plane. I couldn't hold his hand with all the people around us, but best believe I wanted to carry him to our seat and just hold him until we landed.

"Are you okay, baby?" I murmured in his ear as we stopped on the ramp, waiting for the people in front of us to load.

"As okay I can be," he croaked back.

I moved next to him and looked around to see if anyone was watching before gently rubbing against his hand with my pointer finger. "What can I do?" I asked.

"Be with me."

We began walking forward until we were on the plane. The attendants greeted us and I greeted them back as if my boyfriend wasn't on the verge of an anxiety attack. We walked down the plane to our seats. "I'll take care of your bag," I told Brandon.

He blankly slipped off his backpack and handed it to me before taking his seat. I put our bags in an overhead then quickly slid past Brandon and sat in the window seat next to him. I watched as he shakily put on his seatbelt. I kissed below his ear, this time not caring if anyone was looking at us. "Hey, we're going be fine, okay?"

He put up the arm rest in between us and picked my hand and held it in his lap. "It's better when you're here," he said.

I was praying that the seat next to us was going to be unoccupied so I could give Brandon as much physical affection as he needed. Despite how hard I hoped and prayed, an old woman briskly waddled over and sat in the empty seat, pushing her purse under the seat in front of her, doing absolutely normal things that I shouldn't be mad at.

But I fucking was.

I figured the worst thing she could do was tell us that we were going to hell and then ask for a seat change, so I decided that I was going to comfort my boyfriend and not give a single a half-shit about what people had to say.

Brandon let go of my hand as soon as he saw the lady, I quickly reached back for it.

"Ron --" he squeaked.

"It's okay," I assured.

He blinked at me, there was pure fear in his eyes. I frowned, my heart broke for him, "I wish I could hold you," I whispered.

When the plane's engine started, Brandon closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. I looked at the old lady and saw that she was looking through a magazine, then quickly kissed Brandon on the cheek. I couldn't take my eyes off Brandon as the plane started moving, I felt like if I did he'd slip away from me. Even through the safety demonstrations, he kept his eyes shut and I kept mine on him.

His grip tightened as we began speeding up for the take-off. I thought he was going to break my hand by the time we actually got off the ground.

When we were smoothly in the air he finally opened his eyes. I continued to stare as he looked over at me. "Were you looking at me the whole time?" He rasped.

"Yes," I muttered.

He laughed sheepishly, "gosh, that's embarrassing." He let go of my hand and I placed it on his knee.

The old lady put away her magazine. My heart began racing as she turned to us. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but notice what's going on here--"

My stomach dropped. I thought was ready for what she had to say, but I really wasn't.

She continued, "Geez, you both look terrified. It's okay -- I'm not going to bite. Um, this is a bit strange to be saying -- but it's okay. I couldn't help but notice that your boyfriend looks like he's seen a ghost and you keep looking over at me before you comfort him -- it's okay -- I don't mind."

There was a moment of silence before Brandon groaned, "Thank God," and leaned into me, resting his head on my stomach. "Warm...soft...bear," he mumbled.

The woman giggled and I awkwardly grinned and stroked the back of Brandon's head. The awkward silence prolonged as Brandon fell asleep on me.

The woman broke the silence by saying, "I'm Linda, by the way." She stretched her hand across Brandon.

I shook it, "I'm Ronnie," we both sat back, "and this is Brandon."

"How long have you been together?" Linda asked.

"Um -- this is going to sound crazy but -- about five days," I answered sheepishly.

Linda looked a little shocked, "oh -- with the way you two are acting I would've guessed at least a few months, maybe a year."

"It's a little complicated -- I guess you could say we've been dating each other for awhile -- at a distance."

"Oh, like long distance?"

"No -- like, across the counter at the coffee shop-distance."

Linda laughed, "Oh, that's adorable! When I met my husband," she gestured to the sleeping man in the seat in front of her, "way back in high school, it was so painfully obvious that we had feelings for each other -- it took the idiot until senior year to tell me anything!"

I laughed along with her. In any other situation I would have done everything I could to stop the conversation, but with Brandon sleeping on me and the fact that the stranger next to me wanted to talk about me and him, I was enjoying the interaction.

"So, how did you two meet? I know at a coffee shop but how?"

I chuckled softly, "Well, I'm a barista and Brandon here was a, um, a regular customer."

"Oh that's nice, I wish I met this fool at a coffee shop, that sounds romantic."

"There was much more panicking than romance. I think I had a small heart attack each time he walked into the shop."

"Oh--that's really sweet, especially considering you don't seem like a man who would react that way."

As I was having a movie like conversation with this woman, Brandon stuck his arm in the air and pulled on my beard. "Ah! What the hell, Brandon?!" I yelped and glared down at him. It turned out he was still sleeping. I sighed and decided not to bother him after assessing how cute he was.

"Yup, there'll be plenty more rude awakings where that came from," Linda snickered.

****

Linda and my conversation eventually fizzled and I ended up sleeping as well. It was the sound of the pilot announcing our landing that woke me.

"Ronnie -- are you awake?" Linda whispered to me.

I nodded after momentarily forgetting her existence.

Linda continued, "I just wanted to say something as we're probably never going to meet again. Ah--I know there are some people out there -- mostly my age -- you aren't going to understand you and your relationship. I just want to tell you to push through those people because this is how it is and how it's meant to be. If you really love Brandon and he really does love you -- you'll get through all of it."

It was such a basic reassurance and I was about to fucking bawl. I reached over Brandon to shake her hand. She clasped both of her's over mine and held it there for a minute until the plane started landing.

Brandon didn't wake up until the plane was landed and pulling into the gate. He sat up groggily, one side of his hair sticking up. "What did I miss?" He grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

I patted his hair down, "not much, I'll tell you later."

Chapter Text

I actually hugged Linda upon getting out the gate. Brandon and her husband were confused, but it didn't really bother us. "Thank you," I muttered.

"For what? A conversation?" She chuckled.

We let go and went our separate ways. "What was that?" Brandon asked as we walked towards the baggage pick up.

"Oh -- so when you were asleep, Linda and I had a great conversation -- actually, more like she listened to me talk about you and me," I explained. "She also gave me some encouragement before we landed and before you woke up."

"Pretty life changing stuff, huh?"

"Perspective changing -- maybe there's a chance your family will be like that."

He smiled softly and we fell silent as we made our way to the conveyor belts that hopefully contained our luggage. We found the one from our flights and stood with everyone else.

"So what's our plan from here?" I asked Brandon.

"Oh -- shit," he spat, "I should probably text my brother or something." He pulled out his phone and began taping around. I grinned at him fondly before turning my attention back to the conveyor belt.

Eventually, I grabbed our luggage and Brandon had a plan. "My brother's going to pick us up -- I figured he'd be the easiest to come out to," he told me.

"Tell me about this brother of your's," I hummed as we walked away from the conveyor belts.

"He's 12 years older than me and will kick your ass if you hurt me --oh and his name is Shane," he said with a straight face. He kept that straight face for about three seconds before bursting out in giggles.

I groaned, "you're so very cute."

Brandon spoke after his giggles defused, "he's gonna be here any minute, so we better wait by the doors." I followed Brandon to whichever sliding door he set his sight on, still in disbelief that I was where such a beautiful being grew up.

We sat down by the doors that Brandon picked. I looked outside and saw that it was snowing. My mind automatically went to the concept of me kissing Brandon in the snow. I was able to do that. Me.

Suddenly, Brandon was holding my hand under the armrest between us. Just that tiny piece of affection made me feel safe -- even though technically it was what made us less safe.

****

I started to panic when I saw a man who vaguely looked like Brandon walking towards us. "Oh my gosh, is that him?" I yelped, squeezing Brandon's hand harder. I shakily looked at Brandon -- who began to gleam. My panic lessened a little when Brandon let go of my hand and ran into the man full force. Brandon hugged him so hard, I was almost jealous. The man looked a little confused but still embraced Brandon.

I stood up, trembling a little. The guy that Brandon was bear hugging was the very first family member I had to introduce myself to. Brandon's...brother. I took a deep breath, grabbed onto our luggage and walked.

I was 10 feet away when Brandon squeaked, "Shane -- I have a boyfriend..."

I paused and looked up to see Shane's reaction. "Holy shit -- no way?" He said, rather enthusiastically. He seemed excited and unfazed. A weight from my shoulders seemed to be lifted and I was a little less nervous. "Is that him?" He asked, in the same enthusiastic tone, gesturing in my direction.

Brandon nodded his head and that gave me enough courage to stand by him and actually meet the guy. "This is Ronnie," he grinned. "Ronnie -- this is Shane...my brother." We shook hands and I wasn't sure if his grip was tight because he was warning me not to hurt his brother or if he didn't want me doing his brother. Either way, my masculinity dropped so fast, you'd think the hair particles in my face would just fall out.

"Nice to meet you," I said first, trying to assert some kind of dominance -- but failed when my voice cracked around "meet".

Shane laughed, "Nice to meet you too."

We let go and Shane immediately followed with, "alright, let's go."

****

I felt slightly uncomfortable sitting in the back of my new boyfriend's brother's car, but it was nice to see what Brandon was like when he interacted with part of his family.

"You're gonna have to tell dad that you're here," Shane told Brandon as we started driving off.

"What? No -- he'll want me to stay at the house -- I can't with Ronnie here!" Brandon spat out, slightly flustered.

"Well, that's where I'm taking you!"

"No! Oh my gosh, no -- just take us to a hotel, please!"

"Oh come on, Brandon, he's going to be okay -- it's not like -- like -- we didn't know!"

"What?"

"We knew, Brandon."

Brandon paused for a moment. "Maybe so...but I'm still scared."

Suddenly, Shane pulled out his phone from his pocket and started a dialing a number.

"Are you calling dad?" Brandon croaked.

"Hello, father?" Shane said into the phone.

What the fuck is going on? I thought.

"Hi, yeah -- I'm here with Brandon."

"Shane! What the hell --"

"Yes right now, he's right next to me. Yes, you can talk to him."

Shane handed Brandon his phone and I watched as he just stared at it. Eventually, he slowly raised it to his ear. "H-hello?" He said softly. "Yes, i-it's me. I'm sorry. I know I never call, there's a good reason for that...Well, it is a good reason! No -- I really can't stay at the house. I can't because -- because I'm with someone. It's...it's not my wife, dad."

My heart sunk, he looked like he was near tears. I felt powerless in that moment. It wasn't like I could reach over and hold his hand next to his brother.

He took a deep breath, "no, dad, it's -- not my husband -- not really. Y-yes, m-my b-b-boyfriend's with me. I h-have a boyfriend."

The silence in between that statement scared me. Holy shit did it scare me. Then Brandon continued.

"Thank you, dad. Okay. I guess I'll see you soon? Love you too -- bye."

He hung up and stared blankly at the phone again. He slowly handed it back to Shane.

"He's okay with it," Brandon mumbled. "He said he loves me no matter what."

"Wow," Shane said simply with a hint of sarcasm.

I reached forward and slowly grabbed Brandon's shoulder. I saw Shane glance in his direction before booming out, "oh my gosh, are you crying? For the love of -- there is no crying in my car!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sensitive, okay? You know I'm sensitive," Brandon blubbered.

In that moment I wanted to float over him, land in his lap, and hold him. All I could do was slowly massage his shoulder and he softly cried. "So, um," I began, "I'm meeting your dad?"

"Y-yeah," he sniffled.

"What's he like?" I asked.

"Very -- dad-like."

"Fun."

Chapter Text

"Oh God, I really am going to pass out," I mumbled as I moved our luggage from car to -- Brandon's childhood home.

"You're going to be fine -- you're not overly flamboyant or, you know, feminine," Shane said.

"Are you trying to tell him dad's gonna like him 'cause he doesn't act gay?" Brandon snorted.

"Listen, I don't want to offend anyone," Shane shrugged.

We all stood at the front door. I slowly sunk my way behind Brandon. Brandon took a deep breath, his lips curling into a small smile. I began to sweat as Brandon slowly rose his hand to knock on the door. I held my breath as he rapped his knuckles on the door. Dark spots began dancing in my vision before I thought, "I can't be found passed out by Brandon's dad, that's far more embarrassing than meeting him."

The door opened and Brandon basically fell in. I peeked around the door frame and saw him hugging another man who vaguely looked like him, except more tenderly than Shane. I wanted to cry, it was so cute.

His dad migrated to Shane and gave him a quick hug before turning to me. Without a single word, I shook his hand. I couldn't believe I was meeting the person partially responsible for the existence of the most wonderful person I've ever met. I didn't know whether to thank him or introduce myself.

I was shocked when he pulled me into a hug. He whispered into my ear, "listen, son if you do anything to hurt him -- it's not me you need to be worried about -- it's all five of his siblings." I nodded as we pulled away from each other. "So this is the boyfriend I'm just now finding out about!" He exclaimed.

"Yes -- this is Ronnie," Brandon said a bit shyly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ronnie," he grinned.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr.Flowers," I managed.

"That's right --'Mr.Flowers' -- you'll get my first name when you prove my children won't kill you," he began walking away, "Brandon, you know where your room is, Shane, get home safe. Goodnight, we'll have a more proper conversation in the morning."

Just like that, Mr.Flowers was gone. Brandon and I turned to Shane, who gave Brandon a hug. "Okay, I'll see you guys soon," He shook my hand, "please don't screw my brother on his childhood bed, I'll never forgive you," and then the next Mr.Flowers was gone -- and I was alone with the youngest Mr.Flowers.

"So, um, your room?" I murmured.

"My room! Let's go," he took his luggage then, my hand and led me down a hallway to the last room. He opened the door to the room and flipped on the lights. We filed in and I noticed bits of Brandon's childhood that had faded away. The residue of posters that were taped to the wall, a cup of pencils on the desk shoved in the corner and a twin bed that was neatly made.

Brandon sighed, "hasn't changed since the last time I was here." He collapsed on his bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to his chest. "Come lay with me."

I smiled and laid down next to him. He put down the pillow and replaced it with me. "How many people have you brought here?" I asked.

"No one -- I was a loser," he said softly.

"Really?"

"Yes really, you're the first."

"Not even a girl you thought you'd make out with?"

Brandon laughed and squished his cheek against my shoulder. "I didn't even think something like this would happen," he mumbled.

I turned around in his arms to face him. "I don't understand why," I breathed out softly, "you're so -- lovely." Brandon shrugged one shoulder and I chuckled. "How mad would your brother be if I made out with you in your childhood bed."

"Pissed -- but I'd be very happy," Brandon uttered. He pulled me closer to him and kissed me. A wonderful happy feeling grew in my stomach as our kissing intensified.

****

When I woke up the next morning, I was a little puzzled. It took me a moment of staring up at the ceiling to fully comprehend that I was laying in Brandon's childhood room. I heard movement outside of the bedroom, it must have been his father. Old people wake up too goddamn early in the morning.

I looked down at Brandon who was clinging onto me loosely. I took in a deep breath and let it out, a grin creeping onto my face. This was happening. I met his dad, I met his brother, I was going to kiss him entering the new year -- none of it I really pictured when he was just strolling into my coffee shop.

"Ron -- are you awake?" Brandon groggily rasped.

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Why?"

"I don't know -- I'm just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Just about -- just about how happy I am."

"Aw, that's cute."

He snuggled against me, coaxing me to look down at him. He was smiling as his face was pressed against me. "I think we should get up," I whispered. "I can hear your dad in the kitchen." Brandon groaned in response, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. "Please," I begged, "I can smell the coffee he's brewing."

"Is that because you're a barista?" He murmured.

"I really can't live with out it."

"Fine, fine."

Slowly we made our way out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. There his dad sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee while reading the paper. It was such an old fashioned sight, I was actually taken back by it.

"Mornin' dad," Brandon greeted casually, walking over to a cupboard and grabbing a mug.

"Good morning, you boys sleep well?" His dad greeted back, not looking up from his reading.

"Yeah."

"Good."

Brandon poured some coffee, mixed some cream and sugar into it, and walked over to me. He handed me the coffee and I gratefully took it. "Thank you," I whispered.

"So, Ronnie," Mr.Flowers grunted, setting down his paper, startling me. "What do you do for a living?"

"I, uh, I own a coffee shop, sir," I responded.

"Does it do well?"

"Yeah, I'd say."

"Good, good. I don't want my boy to starve."

"Dad!" Brandon whined.

Mr.Flowers ignored him, "so, how long have you two been together?"

I gulped. "I'd say a week."

"Ah -- well I'm glad to meet you early on."

"Dad -- you're not, like, mad that we're together, right?" Brandon blurted.

"I already told you, Brandon, I love you no matter what," Mr.Flowers shrugged.

"Yeah -- but do you support us?"

Mr.Flowers rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "I don't know, Brandon. Things are a lot different than they were back then -- I just never entertained the thought of you being like this, your mom was the more open-minded one. I think she mentioned that you were a little different once, but I didn't want to hear it--" he took a deep breath, "--but I suppose I can learn to support you. I've walked four girls down the aisle, walking a boy down would be an interesting change."

I blushed at the thought of marrying Brandon. I pictured Brandon walking towards me between family and friends and nearly fainted right then. When I came through, I saw that Brandon was tearing up next to me.

"Good lord, boy, stop your crying -- you know, you've always been so sensitive," Mr.Flowers huffed, standing up and taking Brandon into his arms. "I don't know where he gets this from," Mr.Flowers told me over Brandon's shoulder.

Chapter Text

By the time New Year's Eve rolled around I had met a large portion of Brandon's family the previous day. From all his siblings to distant 2nd cousins that apparently he even hadn't talked to in years. Some were curious but mostly supportive. Brandon seemed so happy around all of them I thought that there was no way I could leave him now that I've seen him that happy.

There was also a significant amount of kids around, ranging from babies to teenagers. I got to witness Brandon interact with all of them and subconsciously figured out that I wanted him to father my children. Deep down I wanted to wake up to that version of him every day, our biological children or not.

That night I was this strange mixture of happy and exhausted. I fell asleep in Brandon's bed with him clinging onto me. He was still holding onto me when I woke.

I sat up to look at the time and found that it was around 8:00. I looked at the window and saw that there was an actual blizzard. "Holy shit," I murmured, accidentally waking Brandon up.

"What is it?" Brandon groaned, alarmed and sleepy.

"It is snowing fucking hard," I spat.

"Hmm, yeah, that happens here."

"Brandon -- I wanna build a snowman with you."

"Just five more minutes, please."

"--And I wanna drink hot cocoa with you and I wanna pull you in for a kiss by your scarf and I wanna see snowflakes drift into your soft hair and I wanna cuddle by the fire with you --"

"Ronnie, you're being so cute right now, please save that for when I'm awake."

"I'm excited, Brandon, it never snows where we live!"

He suddenly pushed himself up so he was face-to-face with me. Quickly, he pressed a kiss to my lips and flopped back down. "Just wanted to assure you that you're an adorable baby bear and I'm obsessed with you," Brandon hummed against my chest.

****

When the blizzard stopped, Brandon and I found the motivation to get out of bed. There were quite a bit of kisses exchanged as we dressed for the weather outside. I watched as Brandon pulled on a beanie after he put on a pair of mittens. "You look so cute!" I squealed, hitting a note I hadn't hit since probably 5th grade.

"You're one to talk," he chuckled, "you look like a winter themed teddy bear."

"I'm fucking sweating like crazy right now," I chuckled.

He threw on a scarf, "it'll get better once we're in the arctic."

We stepped out of the bedroom and walked through the living room, gaining Mr.Flowers's attention as we made our way through the front door. "About time you two got up! Shovel the driveway while you're at it!" He called as we were about to open the door.

"Okay, dad," Brandon murmured. We stepped out into the cold air. He took a deep breath, "You know, I've missed this." As he stood there observing the world around him, I observed him. We could have stayed like that forever and I would have been completely fine with it but eventually, Brandon clasped his hands together and marched into his front yard. He picked up a clump of snow and started forming it into a ball. Before I could snap out of my state of admiring him, he threw the ball at me. I was so caught off guard, I fell over onto my ass.

"You asshole, I thought we were going to engage in cute outdoor activities -- not war!" I yelled over his laughter.

"I'm so sorry, babe -- I had to do it!" He cried in-between losing his shit.

I grunted and stood up. Quickly, I made my own snowball before he could become aware of what I was up to. Right as he realized he fucked up, I hurled the snow at him.

"Hey!" He whined after the snow exploded on his chest.

"Revenge is a cold, cold bitch," I chuckled.

He shook his head, "Alright, enough of that -- let's make that snowman, shall we?" We started out rolling the first ball until it was at a sensible size.

"Big muscles," I cooed as he lifted up the second ball which was a big as the first. "My big strong man!"

"Shut up!" He grunted and sat the ball on top of the other. Breathing heavily, he placed his hands on his hips and turned to me. "You finish it!" I snickered at him and started rolling out the head. When I finished, I stacked it on top of the previous ones and took a step back.

"Well, this is underwhelming," I laughed, looking at our completely blank snowman.

Brandon stood beside me, "you're absolutely right." He dug in his pockets for a moment then pulled out a tiny baggy of two buttons.

"What if you need those?" I questioned.

He shrugged and carefully took them out of the bag. I watched as he shoved the two buttons into the snowman's "head". "Gimme your hat," Brandon said.

"What? No," I snorted.

He looked at me and pouted, "pleeease? I'll give up my scarf."

I sighed and removed my hat. He took it from me and sat it on the snowman. He then removed his scarf and wrapped it around it. Brandon's eyes lit up, "there! I love him!"

"He doesn't have arms," I stated.

"Well maybe if you removed that stick from your ass he would."

I laughed and knocked into him playfully. "Fine, I love our weird button-eyed son."

"Are your winter fantasies fulfilled?"

"Well, you didn't give me a chance to pull you into a kiss by your scarf so -- kind of disappointed, really."

"There are a lot of things you can pull me into a kiss with, my coat collar, my hands, my waist, my diiick."

Brandon drew out the I in "dick", making me more and more uncomfortable. Through the discomfort, I scoffed and said, "I wish." Brandon giggled and I softly smiled at him, "I think I prefer the coat suggestion though."

I grabbed him by his coat and rested my forehead against his. I got a little distracted by how warm he was in the middle of my romantic action.

"Hi," he whispered softly.

"Oh -- hey," I laughed gently before finally pressing my lips against his.

Chapter Text

After Brandon and I shoveled the driveway we came back in and had some coffee. Like two weirdos, we sat on the floor next to the TV which was turned off.

"What were you doing this time last year?" I asked him.

"Umm," he looked up in thought and tapped his chin, "I think I was with Mark."

"Oh?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

Brandon scoffed, "I thought we were past the theory that Mark and I are boning -- and yes, he told me about that."

I blushed, "well, I mean -- why wouldn't I be concerned about my boyfriend spending his New Year's Eve with another man?"

"Because we got piss drunk by noon and didn't wake up until one in the morning."

"Did you kiss?"

"No, Ronald, he's straight."

"Not even a lil' smooch." Now I was just fucking with him. He seemed slightly pissed off at me, so I had achieved my goal.

"I'll give you a lil' fucking smooth."

He leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against my lips. "Well, that was a little gay, don't you think?" I tried saying dead-seriously after he pulled back. I failed when he started pouting at me. "Okay, I get it, you're very cute," I snickered.

He gave me a look of satisfaction and downed his coffee, then ran to the kitchen.

****

I was on Brandon's bed scrolling through my phone when he burst in. "So, a couple friends of my mine from high school invited me to this New Year's party -- you up for it?"

I looked up at him and stared. "You had friends in high school?" I said blankly.

He glared at me and crossed his arms. "Of course I had friends," he snapped sassily, jutting his hip out in the most flamboyant way I thought a man's hip could bend.

"No fucking way," I laughed.

"I'll have you I was an athlete."

I laughed harder, "please tell me there is evidence of this!"

He sighed and shook his head, "I'll be back." He exited the room.

I waited in anticipation for five minutes until Brandon came back with a box. He sat it on the bed and shut the door behind him.

"Don't get excited, I wasn't very good so there aren't any rewards or trophies or anything like that."

I opened the box and the first thing I saw was a picture of Brandon when he was about 10 in a stereotypical soccer team photo. "You were such a cute kid, what happened?"

"Dig deeper, you'll see what happen."

I dug into the box and finally reached high school Brandon. "Oh my God!" I gasped, pulling out a picture of Brandon in full football uniform. "You look like you'd spit on high school me!"

"Really? I was a sophomore in that one -- I hated myself."

I widened my eyes at him. "Why? You were cute."

His mood seemed to darken. He crossed his arms and looked down. "I-I had a crush on this guy on the team."

My heart sank for him. "Oh, Brandon -- oh my tiny little athlete, my small sports boy."

Brandon ignored my musings, the look in his eyes told me he was standing on that football field again. "I think he liked me back -- but both of us were too scared to do anything about it. He beat me up once."

"Brandon--"

"I deserved it. I scared him -- he wasn't ready -- neither of us was ready..."

I pushed aside the box and wrapped my arms around him. He rested his head on my shoulder. "I quit after that, my dad was furious but I couldn't look at him after that."

"Have you seen him since?"

"No."

"Are we going to see him at this party?"

"Maybe."

"What's his name?"

"Andy."

"Andy can fuck himself."

I felt Brandon shake his head. "Ron, he was just as scared too."

"Well -- then I guess I hope he's not scared anymore -- and you -- you never have to be scared again."

****

The moment I realized that Brandon knew how to dress for parties was the moment I felt like the husbands in sitcoms who refuse to socialize with their wives. I stared at him in awe from the bathroom doorway as he combed his hair back in the mirror.

"Goddamn," I murmured, trying to eye every inch of him at once, "Those are some tight pants."

He turned around and faced me, a panicked look falling across his face, "I don't want them to think I got old -- is wearing skinny jeans going to make them think I'm trying to be young again -- I don't want them to think that either -- this is a mistake."

"Mistake?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I've got chicken legs, Ronnie."

"Yeah, but--" I leaned over a bit and looked at his behind, "--you've got a little something else."

He turned a shade of red brighter than his flannel's. "Ronnie!" He whined, placing his hands on my chest and pushing me back to the room.

"You look good, Brandon! Don't sweat it," I tried comforting.

He shut the door behind us and shook his head. "I haven't seen these people since graduation -- none of them know I'm gay."

"If you wear that they'll at least be fooled into believing that you fit the fashionable stereotype."

That brought out a smirk from him. "I'm glad if anyone's coming with me to see these assholes again, it's you."

Chapter Text

I wasn't sure what to expect at the New Year's Party. The only New Year's Party I've ever experienced were Dave's at the coffee shop and I have always been drunk off my ass.

Brandon and I arrived at a house bigger than I'd ever wish to live in. I followed him down the path to the doorway, pretending like I was ready to socialize. He rang the doorbell and in a few seconds the door opened and a woman who looked like she'd host a party at her suburban house greeted us.

"Brandon! Still cute as a button, as we all remembered!" She grinned.

I glanced over at him and felt a sense of safety seeing him smile softly in response.

"Who's this?" She asked, squinting at me.

My heart started to race. I wouldn't have minded if he said I was a friend...or his roommate or...

"Oh -- this is my boyfriend, Ronnie," he responded almost casually. The words fell so easily from his mouth I was a little taken back -- and so was she.

There was a slight pause between all of us before the woman said, "Well -- nice to meet you, Ronnie, I'm Anne," and shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you, too," I said a bit awkwardly.

"Alright then, come on in, have fun," she chirped, stepping aside so we could come in.

There was a significant amount of people. They stood around talking to one another, drink in hand. There was music in the background, almost drowned out by the talking.

"That was interesting," I told Brandon in relation to the interaction we had with Anne.

"That was an easy one," he shrugged, "there's at least 20 more of those."

A bit of panic hit me, but I didn't want to let him know that. "Hearing you call me your boyfriend 20 times? I'm up for that," I smirked.

****

There were indeed at least 20 "this is my boyfriend, Ronnie"s. 39 to be exact. Some more awkward than others -- we decided to spend the rest of the night with the people who clearly didn't give a shit whether Brandon had a boyfriend, girlfriend or a bad case of diarrhea, they just genuinely seemed to like him. These were my kind of people.

Eventually, we ended up around a bonfire outside. I was drinking a beer in as an attempt to make me buzzed enough to stay warm, but not enough that I wouldn't be able to appreciate how beautiful Brandon looked in the light of the fire.

It was around 10 o'clock when two men started walking towards us from the house and I could tell by just the look on everyone's face that one of them was him. Brandon suddenly looked stone cold and I wasn't sure whether or not I should find some brass knuckles.

"Oh, that's Andy, God, Ronnie, you don't wanna know about him," a guy near me scoffed.

"Who's the other guy?" I whispered, keeping my eyes on the two coming increasingly closer.

The guy shrugged in response, "I've never seen him."

I sat back in my chair and the two men pulled up a chair beside Brandon and me. "Hey Brandon, it's good to see you here!" one of them spoke up, shaking Brandon's hand.

"Good to see you too, Andy," Brandon said as if he genuinely meant it. He was too good at this. Before I could even process what was going on, Brandon followed up immediately with, "this is my boyfriend, Ronnie."

Too in shock to say anything, I just shook his hand. That alone was difficult -- making any contact with someone you know at some point hurt someone you can't fathom anyone hurting is difficult.

"Um, well, I think now's a good time to introduce my boyfriend," Andy said following the silent handshake.

I couldn't help but sharply turn my head to look at Brandon. Brandon's expression said, "oh yeah? Is it a good time? Is it, asshat?" His eyebrow was arched and his lips pouted out -- I was both turned-on and scared.

Nevertheless, Brandon greeted Andy's boyfriend and I mirrored him and did the same. Josh -- his name was Josh. A pretty generic name but I could tell Brandon and I were making fun of him out of spite internally at the same time.

"Why are you here, Andy?" Brandon sighed, clearly tired of the fake interaction we were having.

Andy's expression fell a bit, "I-I don't know."

"Just because you have a boyfriend or whatever doesn't make things okay now."

"I know that! I know that...it's just -- it's hard to comprehend what I've done..."

"Oh geez, must be so difficult for you."

"No! Brandon, please don't be mad, I know I was awful, so fucking awful..."

Brandon was emotionless -- I couldn't tell if he was going to dump a drink in Andy's lap or hug him. Andy noticed and let out a heavy sigh. He smiled sadly, "we could've been something, you know? If I weren't so stupid..."

"Jesus Christ, that's not what I want to hear."

It was Andy's turn to be pissed, "then what the fuck do you want to hear?"

"'I'm sorry for almost killing you after that football game, Brandon'? 'I'm sorry for destroying you, Brandon'?"

"I am sorry! I can't say I'm sorry enough, there aren't enough 'sorry's in the world I could give you!"

I kept my gaze on Brandon. I was seeing him express something that I'd never even imagine. He wasn't even looking at Andy anymore. He continued softly, "you know I never thought anyone could ever love me after that."

That was the boiling point of my silence. "Brandon --" I said sternly. My whole being was screaming at me to get out of there, not only because Brandon was growing increasingly upset, but also because my slightly-drunk-ass was seconds away from breaking Andy in half.

Brandon shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "You know what? It doesn't even matter, I'm happy for you, I'm glad you have Josh, I'm glad you don't have to be scared anymore -- and I'm not scared anymore." He grabbed my hand and stood up. I stood with him, ready for the most dramatic exit anyone has ever seen. "I forgive you," Brandon finished with, "but I never want to see you again."

Before Andy could interject again, Brandon pulled me across the backyard and back inside. "Are you okay?" I asked softly, stopping him as soon as we entered the house and placing my hands on his cheeks.

"Yes," he whispered. "I don't think I would've been if you weren't here."

At that point, every part of me screamed, "oh my GOD, I love him! I love him! I love him! I! LOVE! HIM!"

Anne, our host, floated over to us with two glasses of champagne. "Hey, midnight's in 5 minutes, get ready," she said as we grabbed the glasses.

"So you really just -- never want to see him again?" I asked Brandon as soon as Anne left.

"Never -- I want to walk into this New Year with you -- and away from -- from-- whatever that was from my past."

I couldn't help but start tearing up a bit, I was buzzed and so full of love. We walked further into the house and found a spot with some people who were gathered around a TV, watching a countdown.

Believe it or not, but five minutes goes by fast when you're standing next to someone you wouldn't mind going into every new year with. Soon everyone was counting down from ten.

It's such a strange thing to countdown using a time measurement that we made up to another time measurement that we made up. I didn't know half of the people we were with, yet I still felt a sense of safety.

I was pondering this as we all yelled "one" and then louder, "happy new year!" Brandon grabbed me by my coat and looked up at me for a second. I smiled stupidly at him and a slow smirk crept onto his face. I spoke, "are we gonna kiss or--"

Brandon pulled me closer and as soon as our lips touched I knew that year was already the best year of my life.

Chapter Text

"Ronnie..." I heard Brandon coax, my brain still in slumber mode. "Ronnie!" I awoke and after pushing away the sleepy confusion, I realized Brandon had crawled on top of me. "Happy anniversary, baby."

"Oh man, we're not gonna fuck are we?" I grunted.

Brandon rolled his eyes and planted a kiss on my forehead, completely compromising what was left of my masculinity. Unfortunately, I loved every single little kiss of his. "Happy anniversary," I whispered, "and merry Christmas Eve." He smiled softly down at me and rolled over onto his back. "Hey now! Get back here!" I exclaimed, turning over to face him.

"I can't believe two years ago we were hungover on your floor, spooning," he sighed.

"Now we're hungover in my bed."

"I didn't drink that much last night."

"Ah, so you were sober when you sang me that Justin Bieber song?"

"Okay, maybe I got a little drunk."

I shook my head and laughed, "I can't believe you're still this cute."

He stretched an arm over me and pulled himself closer. "I'll always be this cute, Flowers don't age."

I looked at him, neither of us said anything as we just stared at each other. I slowly moved forward to kiss him. "Ew! Flowers, go brush your teeth," I cringed as I registered his morning breath mixed with my own.

"It can't be that bad!" Brandon groaned.

"Go, go, go--we can't make out all day if you taste like that."

Brandon huffed and slipped out of bed. "I love you!" I called as he stormed out to the bathroom.

I took a moment just to lie there, thinking about how truly grateful I was to have what I had.

Things had changed quite a bit since I woke up on the floor with Brandon. He had started working at the coffee shop alongside Mark, as they both needed to make money somehow while working on their music project. Speaking of which, I had also learned of Brandon's musical talent beyond drunkenly singing Christmas songs. Every once in a while I hear him from the living room and I yell, "sounds good!" And he yells back, "I was warming up, Ronnie!"

For our first anniversary, we spent it with Brandon's family as Brandon wanted to spend Christmas with them. It was just as wonderful and warm as the first time we were there.

It was then I realized I loved him to a point where letting go of him would never be an option. So, you know, he's stuck with me.

****

When I finally got out of bed, I found Brandon in the kitchen, digging through whatever food we had. "Do you want me to make you hot chocolate?" I asked. "That's how you first started loving me, right?"

"Yes, please!" He exclaimed, grabbing something from the fridge. "Do you wanna make cookies?"

"Isn't it a little early for cookies?"

"It's 12 o'clock in the afternoon."

"Oh shit--then cookies it is! Also...who the fuck are we?"

I made Brandon his hot chocolate then helped him slap cookie dough down onto a baking sheet. "One day we'll have enough motivation to actually make cookies," he chuckled. When we fit as many cookies as possible onto the sheet, Brandon put it into the preheated oven and went over to his hot chocolate. He took a sip and sighed, "having a boyfriend who owns a coffee shop is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"That good, huh?"

He took another sip, "the only reason why I'm dating you."

We paused before bursting out laughing. "You're so dumb," I said, still with a hint of fondness in my voice. I could never genuinely insult him no matter how much of an asshole he could be.

"You're the only person who can call me dumb and I'll take it as a compliment." He quickly kissed my cheek and ran off to the living room.

I followed him and sat on the couch opposite of the one he was laying on. "Excuse me?!" He complained, pulling his head up.

"Yeah?" I murmured casually, reaching for the TV remote and clicking it on.

Brandon ran over to me and proceeded to sit himself on my lap. "Okay, never mind, this is the best seat in the house."

"Oh, come on, Brandon," I groaned.

He spun around so he was straddling me, "is this better?"

I grinned at him, "surprisingly."

He grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me. I pulled away from him for just a moment, "mmm, tastes much better than before."

He chuckled, "good," before leaning back in for more.

"If you burn those cookies, it's over for us," I interrupted once more.

"Reasonable."

A couple of minutes passed before Brandon hopped off my lap and stumbled to the kitchen. "How are they?" I called.

"Almost done and definitely not burnt--looks like you're stuck with me, Ronnie," he answered.

"Oh darn!" I joked.

We sat in silence until Brandon pulled the cookies out of the oven, I then made my way to him. "Oh there you are, lured out by the cookies, huh?" He murmured, taking off his oven mitts.

I looked at the cookies, they weren't the most aesthetically pleasing, varying in shape and sizes, but they still managed to make my stomach growl. I reached for one and immediately regretted it. "Ow!" I cried.

Brandon cackled, "you dumbass."

"Kiss it," I pouted, dramatically holding my hand.

Brandon looked at me unenthusiastically, "you're kidding."

"Pleeease."

"You're a baby."

"Pleeease!"

With an eye roll and a sigh he quickly planted a kiss on my finger. "That was embarrassing, you're lucky I love you."

I grinned at him before grabbing a cookie again, this time it was hot but not third degree burn hot. I tossed it between my hands before grabbing a paper plate and dropping it on it.

"That was the dopiest thing I've ever seen you do," Brandon chuckled.

"You gotta eat them while they're still warm," I said, heading to the fridge to grab some milk. I poured some in a glass and grabbed the paper plate, "come join me, Flowers." I made my way over back to the living room.

Brandon sat next to me with two cookies and what was rest of his hot chocolate. As he chewed on one he lifted his legs up and rested them on me. "There better be some good Christmas movies," he mumbled.

"Let's see," I said, grabbing the TV remote and flicking through the channels. Most channels were playing Christmas movies, I went through all of them until Brandon's approval.

"Ooh! This one, this one's a gem, we're watching this one," he sputtered when the original Grinch came one. I put down the remote and turned my attention back to the cookie.

When he finished his, during a commercial, he slowly turned to look at me. "Ronnie..." he sung sweetly, "you should get us a blanket."

"Brandooon, you should get it," I shot back.

He pouted at me, "you made me kiss your booboo...you're a grown-ass man."

I sighed and lifted his legs off me. I quickly went to our bedroom and grabbed a blanket. Upon coming back, I threw the blanket over him. He let out a slight shriek before pulling it away from his face, "how dare you."

I smirked at him then tapped his calf, "move."

"What's the password?" He teased.

"Uhh...move."

"Incorrect."

"Move! I want your sweet, sweet legs on me."

"Wrong, but I'll let you in." He pulled his legs in and I sat down.

"What was the password?" I asked curiously as he rested his legs on me again and I settled myself.

"There wasn't one, I was just a little annoyed that you threw the blanket on me."

I snorted at him.

"You're so far away," he whined, reaching forward. "I wanna kiss!"

"Oh is that what you want? Well...you can definitely have it." I crawled up to him, maneuvering around the small couch until I was hovering over him, face-to-face. "Hi."

He giggled, "hi." I just hovered for a couple of seconds until he glared at me, "Well? Kisses??"

"Right," I said before gently kissing him. "I love you," I whispered pulling back.

"Love you," he whispered back.