admittedly there aren't really any deleted scenes that i think are worth sharing but hey
the writing style in the deleted scenes varies as they're all from different years/versions of pancakes i wrote, but the general ideas are there. a lot of these also contain jokes that were made elsewhere in pancakes, so having multiple occasions didn't make sense.
headcanons...canons..? it's my writing idk
near the end of the book at kit's housewarming party, there's a moment where ryan says "i love you" to dakota and dakota says something back, but ryan's not sure what it is.
it's this: ao teu lado, ando de olhos fechados — beside you I can walk with my eyes closed
i saw it once on some website for portuguese love sayings (writing research takes u wild places) and it just reminded me of them and what they mean to each other. so in my head, in that scene, that's what dakota says. is it even a vaguely normal thing to say in portuguese? i simply do not know i just liked the sentiment, there's a reason this is a headcanon and was not written as Fact into the book cause idk what i'm talking abt
axe is an insanely good liar, but he only uses his powers for good (i.e. for his friends). one example of this is the scene in pancakes where he lies and tells lori that ryan has insomnia.
D: watching axe tell a lie is such an experience. even when i specifically ask him to deliver a lie for me, the earnesty he affects is so damn genuine i have trouble remembering he's lying. and i’m the one who asked him
Re: once me and axe were driving and i got pulled over and panicked because i realized my printed registration was out of date but axe just grabbed every fucking thing out of my glove box and stuffed it beneath the seat
Re: and told the officer someone broke into my car yesterday (saying we didn't file a police report because i left my car unlocked and it was technically my fault) and that we were on our way that exact moment to get a copy from the dmv
Re: and the officer was like oh yes you sweet wonderful beautiful kind white boy i understand completely have a great day
D: i would have PAID to watch that go down
Re: i was like Pouring sweat but axe was just like la dee da i lie to cops every day of my blue eyed life like BITCH
D: JSHSHHDHSHD
later on...
B: axe just lied in front of me for the first time shdjnsxjsidjxjskaf
B: oh my god he delivered it so well im speechless? we went into this huge ass used bookstore and the crime section was closed off but we came SPECIFICALLY for crime novels so he just waved one of the workers and was like “look… so sorry for the inconvenience it's just that my friend breanna’s grandmother, she's battling pneumonia, slipped into a coma this morning, and the doctor's say that reading to her can be great for recovery. crime novels are her favorite.” then he just looked at them. and they were like ryan levels of ❤️💕💕💜 sure thing baby
R: DIE BREE
A: Look I just wanted u to get ur books u deserve them 💕💕💜💗!!!
---
ryan and natalie both "love" kids
natalie likes kids in the "wow hanging out with that rascal for a few hours was fun. and now i go home and it's completely silent and i love that for me"
ryan thinks he wants to have kids in a slightly delusional way like... in pancakes he references wanting a family a few times, but in my opinion he just wants a sense of belonging and he's a little stupid. i'm not really convinced he would be a good parent though i think if the circumstances were right he could do well. basically i think that ryan sees having his own family as a way to right the ship and do everything his parents did wrong right. but really he just needs to play the sims and get over himself
however, he does like the idea/dream of a family
---
as referenced throughout pancakes, kit and ross tried out dating despite ross being gay and kit being a nonbinary female. but they're endgame :)
though throughout pancakes, they joke about their not-quite-romance gone wrong, they do eventually come back together after ross does a bit of soul searching and a lot of posting on reddit. he is gay, as in he's only attracted to men, but he and kit are soulmates and you can pry them out of my cold dead hands!
the dates they went on before ending things were amazing. kissing was awesome. but ross got in his head about the sex part of things, despite kit basically saying they didn't really care if sex was off the table. eventually they decided it would be best to step back from the relationship because kit said they weren't comfortable feeling like an experiment, and if that's what ross felt like he needed to do, they didn't want to be part of it.
ross is def pining though. observe:
Ross responds with a video of Kit giggling their way through Ryan’s Snapchats. Ryan smiles so hard his face hurts.
kit ☀
who else just fell in love with french fry 100% more after watching his snaps
ross the belieber
you, apparently. lol
(he's so bitter pleeeeeeeeeease)
Dakota falls into the booth beside him with a sigh loud enough to garner the attention of someone across the café, and Kit settles in next to Axe. The booth is too small to hold the four of them, so Ross sits halfway on Kit’s lap and fastens one of their arms around his waist like a makeshift seatbelt.
Ryan eyes all of the empty chairs, just begging to be pulled up to a table and put to good use, but doesn’t say a word about it.
(ross sitting on kit's lap is basically a confession won't lie. one of his joking nicknames is ross topmas because he doesn't like bottoming, hates being little spoon, etc. but with kit the rules don't apply ofc)
off-screen, they have a very long and winding friends-to-lovers storyline. trust me.
--
axe has plenty of tattoos i do not care enough to define or describe, but here's a list of the ones i have in my head:
triangle (left shoulderblade)
charmander (upper left arm)
delta symbol (side of middle finger)
coordinate grid (right shoulderblade)
st augustine lighthouse (collarbones area)
floral tattoos (collarbones)
order of operations (somewhere on back)
dinosaur eating a raspberry (somewhere on back)
square (near knee); circle (inside of upper arm); star (somewhere on back)
cat whiskers (right arm above the elbow)
"kiddo" in aunt mary's handwriting (inside of upper arm)
various doodle-y tattoos that don't really mean anything but he and his tattoo artist are having fun: skull and bones, pair of socks, a quarter (yes like the coin), saxophone, guitar, tambourine, stack of pancakes, etc
various lyrics by his screamo bands
--
breanna, dakota, and ryan have a groupchat that basically exists to tell stories and send memes about weed and depression
this is referenced in pancakes but i just needed to specify
--
ryan and dakota have a fond memory that involves 3/4 of a handjob before ryan got spooked and texted axe from his bathroom.
basically, once upon a time, dakota was reading a book that had the "i'm gonna jerk off my buddy since his wrist is broken" trope and discussed with ryan. they agreed they would do that for each other, axe be damned, and when ryan mentioned the conversation to axe, it was made clear that axe would never be upset by anything dakota and ryan did to show their affection for one another.
so one day our favorite besties make out, kinda high, kinda horny and decide to feel each other up a little. that's just rock and roll. later after they sobered up, dakota decided he is Not Over It and just straight up asked ryan if he can jerk him off ("platonically," he quickly added). ryan texted axe to confirm that was fine, showed dakota the text as proof, then they went about their business. about three-quarters of the way through ryan gets cold feet and asked if it was cool if he went and finished in the bathroom. dakota shrugged like he couldn't care less.
aaaand from there we have a delightfully strange friendship memory that dakota remembers fondly. ryan still feels like he fumbled his chance and dakota makes fun of him about it from time to time. some facts: (1) dakota's handjob game is elite and (2) ryan's first text to axe from the bathroom is "i am so fucking stupid"
---
axe doesn't know how to ask people out. his approach involves loving people until they love him back.
he never properly asks ryan to date, he just talks about it enough to where ryan gets the picture. basically, he announces that he and ryan are together in the groupchat before even asking ryan and axe is like "i mean i'm holding his hand atm i don't feel like i have to ask". he's dumb
macie ontell
macie was one of ryan's hookups ("best lay of his life" in pancakes verse). in other axe/ryan verses, i wrote macie as one of ryan’s frequent hookups because she was really into detached sex and ryan was really into ignoring his feelings for his best friend twice-removed. i loved their sexual dynamic, and i loved macie in general—her no-nonsense attitude i mentioned—so i wanted to have her in there as some fond memory. macie is one of breanna's sisters. breanna comes from a large family and has a handful of half-siblings. we can assume macie was "passing through" because she was in town to see her sister.
tyler elliott
tyler was created to be one of axe's closest friends. she was eventually going to have her own novel, but it didn't end up working out like that. her sister is deaf and her mother is a music teacher and very hippie-dippy. she's fluent in sign language, maintains a close relationship with her sister, works a retail job at a clothing store, and walks and petsits for dogs. she finds it difficult to get to know new people, a lot of stuff rubs her the wrong way, and she loves the beach. i didn't get to know her character as well as i meant to.
paxton adler
paxton was also created to be one of axe's closest friends. i fleshed out him and his family dynamics before i ever did for axe. he comes from a stable home with parents that are generally good and generally supportive. he learned how to play golf in middle school at the ymca and ended up continuing to play in high school because it was pretty chill and, hey, it's florida. he still golfs recreationally, but he goes to school for human-computer interaction design. he maybe wants to eventually get a doctorate. he wouldn't call himself a whiz kid or anything, but he studies hard, has genuine interest in emerging research, and gives it his all. he probably won't be someone who's inventing brand new technologies or anything, but it's a good fit for him.
one of his pipe dreams is being a voice actor. in pancakes, he mentions that he started out copying his older brother's just to be annoying and ended up getting really good at mimicking voices.
hannah handley
hannah, ryan’s online friend, is actually a weird story. i’m not totally sure why i chose to make her ryan’s friend out of all the characters i could have put in there, but she was actually originally kay’s best friend in old canonverse. they were long distance friends, same as ryan and hannah, but kay grew up with hannah as her best friend in texas and eventually moved to florida. they kept up their friendship with skype calls. it wasn’t until i started writing hia that i realized how well hannah and ryan actually would get along—as kay’s best friend, hannah was a couple of years older, an assistant at a ceramics studio, a recreational weed smoker, and the owner of a few birds—so it was really interesting to discover a hidden dynamic. a lot of hia was discovering hidden dynamics, if i’m honest, but theirs was one i really enjoyed playing around with.
nyla and susan are both characters created inside and for pancakes; they didn’t appear in any other verses before they were written into this story. i ❤ them though! just for a little insight…
nyla philippon
nyla philippon is a twenty-four year old mother of one, and she and her husband just recently separated, but they decided to try living together for a little longer just to give their baby a more stable upbringing. it’s working well enough, but that’s the reason why nyla and ryan never went for anything that would take longer or that would require a bed. she loves her kid more than anything, and her husband feels pretty much the same way, so that’s how they make still living together work. nyla grew up in louisiana and moved to indiana for her husband’s job. on top of working at robins, nyla also babysits her neighbors’ children for some extra money because she has no trouble handling three or four kids at a time.
susan niu
susan niu is a single, twenty-seven year old woman who originally went to the local university on her parents’ dime to study medicine, but it only took her a year of classes to realize she’d be making herself miserable if she went through with getting that degree. she tried to talk to her parents about studying something else, but after a lot of discussions and blowout arguments, susan packed her shit, moved in with a friend, and dropped out of med school. she worked two jobs for a year to save up money, getting her own apartment in that time, and applied to the local state college as an astronomy major of all things. now, at twenty-seven, she’s working as a teacher’s aide and getting most of her college paid for by the school, and she plans to become a professor herself at some point. she doesn’t talk to her parents much at all, but everything she does is still for her family; susan is very close with her siblings, and she plans to have a backup fund to put all of them through college if her parents are assholes about it.
axe's parents: peter harmon and allison merritt + mary watkins and jack watkins
axe's biological parents are named peter harmon and allison merritt (remarried). they met in college. the people who raised him are mary and jack watkins, his aunt and uncle. peter harmon is a car salesman who finished about a year of college before he called it quits to help raise axe. allison works in hotel management in the hospitality and tourism industry, and axe is not very close with her. axe was an unplanned pregnancy for allison and peter, and allison was not really ready to grow up which led to some unstable moments in axe's childhood that eventually got smoothed over by his aunt mary saying she'd be happy to take him in while allison and peter sorted everything out. aunt mary and uncle jack weren't able to have children of their own, so axe fit very well into their lives.
allison and peter were separated before axe was even born but got divorced officially a handful of years later. peter continued to pine for allison even as she basically left town and started building a life elsewhere, far away from peter, their son, and her sister. it wasn't a very healthy relationship, but luckily axe didn't see much of it since he stayed with his aunt and uncle. peter was also dealing with some pretty severe depression to where he agreed it was best for axe to stay with his aunt and uncle. they all lived in the same town so he still got to see axe pretty often as a kid, and axe would spend some weeks or weekends with his dad here and there.
after allison gets remarried, peter has what amounts to a breakdown and lives in denial for a while. he has some issues with reality, gets some therapy and medication, and slowly gets better. axe is aware of his dad's struggles, but aunt mary and uncle jack do a good job of discussing with peter what's appropriate and what's inappropriate to expose axe to in terms of his dad's mental stability. by the time axe is graduating high school, peter is mostly put back together again and he and axe can take up a relatively normal father-son relationship, though axe tends to go to his uncle jack and aunt mary with his personal issues.
mary is a driver's ed instructor and jack runs an a/c repair company. one day as she was backing out of her reserved parking spot after work, she hit a work truck belonging to the a/c company performing work on the ground floor. being a driver's ed instructor, she quickly schooled him on his mistake. jack ended up using her number for reasons other than insurance, and they've been in love ever since.
ryan's parents: mitch cirino and doralise cirino
michio "mitch" cirino (previously kamishiraishi) never ended up deciding on a career and instead lands different kinds of jobs or gigs in whatever city the cirinos move to. sometimes that's manual labor (like framing or landscaping), sometimes it's restaurant work, and sometimes it's retail jobs. the variety works well for him and he makes enough money alongside doralise to be comfortable. doralise works with computers and programming, in particular website development. her work is flexible and can be done from anywhere as it's mostly online. she also does mentoring/tutoring work on the side, as it gives her personal fulfillment. when doralise and mitch got married, mitch decided to take doralise's last name and pass that surname onto his children to avoid them having a "complicated"/"foreign" japanese surname. doralise and mitch transitioned to an open marriage around the time ryan and natalie were 10. they realized they weren't compatible in some ways but greatly valued one another's companionship, friendship, and partnership, and of course they loved their children. they both enjoy moving frequently and getting to know new cities, new people, and new environments.
mitch immigrated to america in his 20s alongside one of his best friends after they ran away to tokyo together. they're still close, but the vast majority of mitch's family is either deceased or estranged. he and doralise met through work.
although mitch is not a good father to her children, doralise understands him as a person and loves him despite his faults. they agree on some things and disagree on others, but ultimately, their partnership is peaceful, stable, and does not deteriorate their mental health. they discuss, compromise, and make things work. mitch is just dogshit at doing that same stuff with his children.
initially, that whole scene where ryan got high (and accidentally spilled his guts about loving when people call him sweetheart) was completely spelled out. i later edited it to nix the details.
-
Ryan: got off thinking about you
Ryan: so you were there in spirit
baby boy: Oh
baby boy: Shit why are you telling me this
Ryan: you told me
Ryan: and I’m high tell you anything
baby boy: WHAT’S MY PRESENT
Ryan: something stupod
Ryan: stupilkd
Ryan: the second try was worse than the first
Ryan: thats what im worries about
baby boy: This is like trying to figure out what you’re saying in real life with all the mumbling
Ryan: my eyes hurt gotta go
Ryan drops his phone over the side of his bed and tries to focus on the tinny music coming from his laptop speakers, but his brain isn’t liking the noise all of a sudden. Ryan slams the lid of his computer shut and picks at his nails instead. He sold both of his gaming systems for some extra cash a few years ago, and he only ever regrets it at times like these: when he’s alone, stoned, and bored out of his mind.
He lies there for a while, cottonmouthed, and fidgets with the pipe Hannah made for him. The last time he got high with someone was with her via Skype, and Ryan thinks about texting her, or at least sending a video to say hi, but what he really does is just have a conversation with her in his head, and by the time he thinks to get his phone, he’s already forgotten whatever it was he wanted to say.
The cottonmouth won’t go away. Ryan rolls out of bed and slouches into the kitchen for a glass of water, grumbles to himself about his pitiful snack food cabinet, and shakes out two Fruit Roll-Ups because it’s either that or stale graham crackers. Before he collapses onto his mattress again, he scoops his phone up off the floor and shoves a Fruit Roll-Up into his mouth as he unlocks it. Even high, tapping 1-2-2-0 is no thorn in Ryan’s side, but Ryan stares at his phone screen for a few long seconds, unable to locate his messaging app. The Fruit Roll-Up doesn’t taste like fruit at all. Ryan pulls it out of his mouth and realizes he never peeled the plastic off.
Ryan: wait im back
baby boy: Yeah hey missed you
Ryan: never mind
baby boy: No what we’re you going to say
Ryan: were* like im high but i think thats the wrong won
baby boy: Won
Ryan: look baby shut up
baby boy: What do you like to be called like?? Babe??
Ryan: Ryan I’m using text-to-speech by the way
baby boy: No pet names?
Ryan: Mitchell’s history care
Ryan: no I’m like chill with them Idris don’t really care
Ryan: close enough
Ryan: besides one
baby boy: Besides one, like one that you hate and would punch me for?
Ryan: cutesy shit is dumb
baby boy: So not like sweetie and sugar etc
Ryan: you know what i loooove
Ryan: we’re never going to talk about it
baby boy: Lay it on me
Ryan: sweetheart
baby boy: You’re kidding
Ryan: no i fucking love it i just always say its the worst bc i have an image to uphold
Ryan: man i love it im just thinking about it
baby boy: Sweetheart
baby boy: Ya big softie
Ryan: zzzzzzzzzz
Ryan decides to hide his phone from himself so he’ll stop texting Axe.
originally the "let's guess axe's middle name" game was a little longer
--
He’s got nothing to lose. Ryan thinks to text “Albert” as his guess, but then he sees a better choice. He’s laughing as he types it.
Ryan: harvey
Axe Harmon: What the fuck
Axe Harmon: What the FUCK
Ryan: holy shit am i right
Ryan: AM I RIGHT
Axe Harmon: Did you look up my birth record or something what the fuck Ryan
Ryan: I JUST LOOKED UP OLD MAN NAMES
Ryan: I AM SO ALIVE RIGHT NOW
Kit: ryan cheated??? not sure how but he did
Dakota: He probably checked Axe’s license or something
don’t answer (natalie): How did u guess that?? Stalker
Ryan: shut up natalie
Ryan: i had a feeling that axe wouldnt be embarrassed by a ““““girly”””” name and i was thinking of other reasons to be embarrassed and i was like it has to be a geezer name
Ryan: harvey harmon. how cute is that
Axe Harmon: I can’t fucking believe this. This was the one secret I had left
Ross Thomas: heyyyy ladies i’m on break and ready for this 125 message drama!!! stop texting let me catch up
Ryan: usually im so fucking stupid that im kinda stressed about actually being right
Kit: I can’t stop laughing sjjsjgs
Kit: “I’m stressed about actually being right” ME
Axe texts him privately, so Ryan taps out of the group chat to read his messages.
Axe Harmon: Seriously did you check my license to make sure I wasn’t lying about my age or something??
Ryan: i didn’t, swear, i just saw harvey and i was like thats pretty awful lets go
Ryan: this is really so funny
Axe Harmon: I’m in shock like people never guess my middle name?? I was trying to take that secret to the grave
Ryan: why would your parents do that to you
Axe Harmon: We’re white :/ My parents are named Allison and Peter what were they supposed to do? Name me something interesting? Impossible
honestly, i think i was just trying to come up with a reason they'd all be hanging out but didn't like this for lots of reasons. it's true, ryan and dakota regularly spit gum into each other's hands, they are 5 years old
--
Gathering the entire group as they did the first time is no small feat. It consumes close to a half-hour’s worth of messages in the group chat, but to no avail—Ryan has somewhere to be today at 2:45 PM. And that somewhere is conference room number two at the South Bend Public Library, which Kit somehow reserved. Apparently, the meeting will entail a group activity which is necessary for whatever project Kit’s doing for whatever class. Ryan only agrees because he loves Kit.
The activity, as it turns out, involves the use of a hat. Apparently. Or Kit must be asking him for some other reason. “Axe said you would have some douchey fedora in your car for sure,” they say, as Ryan swings a U-turn after completely missing the library. He's running late, but Reema’s running later graciously. “If you don't, it's fine! I just wanted to ask.”
He tells Kit that he’ll bring them a hat once he gets to the library, because he's an idiot and misses the turn a second time. He's properly frustrated as he pushes the library door open, hat slung lazily over his hair for ease of transporting it.
As soon as he shoves his way into the second conference room, he throws the hat at Axe, purposefully sabotaging his own aim to ensure that he doesn’t actually hit Axe. “You are a dick,” Ryan informs him, while Axe flinches and makes no attempt to catch the hat. He twirls it in his hand after he retrieves it off the floor. “You are a dick and I cannot fucking drive today.”
“That's every day,” Natalie reminds him.
“You're also a dick.”
“Is everyone a dick?” a grinning Axe asks.
“Fuck off,” a rather irritable Ryan replies. He gives Axe a fist bump on his way to Dakota’s side to reassure the boy that he isn’t in need of calming.
Kit swipes the hat out of Axe's hand and pours the contents of their satchel onto the table, poking through it for a banded stack of papers. “Now we just wait for Reema.”
Ryan plops into the seat beside Dakota and grunts when he receives a kiss on the cheek. “Driving is stupid,” he tells Dakota. There seems to be a potluck of vending machine snacks on the center of the table, so Ryan leans over the table to dig through them. Preemptive, he says, “Dakota, if you slap my ass—”
“Shhh,” Dakota says, petting Ryan's lower back. “Not while Harmon’s around. I don’t want to get him jealous.”
Ryan rolls his eyes and snags a bag of gummy bears, ripping it open with his teeth. “Axe hardly gets jealous unless he’s drunk, and even then, he’d just ask to join in on the action. Idiot.” He pours half the bag into his mouth and regrets it when he realizes how hard he has to work his jaw. “These are fucking disgusting.”
“Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine today,” Breanna drawls.
“You don’t even like gummy bears, Ryan.” Natalie throws him a look of exasperation. Ryan takes Dakota’s hand and promptly spits three gummy bears out. “Ryan!”
“They're nasty,” Ryan reiterates. “Dakota spits gum into my hand all the time. He deserves this.”
Dakota calmly stands from the table and goes to the trash can, dropping the gummy bears in. Then he stops by Axe and holds out his hand. There's a red bear in the center of his palm. “It's your favorite color,” Dakota points out, almost shy.
Axe’s gaze flickers to Ryan’s. Ryan raises an eyebrow, abandoning the gummy bears for a bag of Oreos. Axe plucks the red bear out of Dakota’s palm and deposits it in his mouth.
Breanna expresses her disgust through an array of groans and nose scrunches. “I wouldn’t even do that for Reema.”
Axe shrugs. “Dakota gave it to me. You can't say no to his gifts.” A pause. “And, besides, I've had his spit in my mouth before. Among other things.”
Breanna covers her ears and Natalie shoots a rubber band Axe’s way for being filthy. Throwing his hand out, Ryan intercepts the rubber band mid-air and drops it daintily on the table. Axe hums something pleased.
“Cute,” Dakota says, right as Reema enters the room in a flurry of tassels and breezy sighs. He rests his cheek on Axe’s hair, then says something in his ear. Ryan watches fondly as Axe tilts his head back and Dakota drops a kiss to his mouth, upside down.
Breanna tugs on one of the tassels hanging from Reema’s silk shirt. “Sit by me.”
Reema smiles and does. “I was going to, anyways.”
“Okay!” Kit says brightly, clasping their hands together. “So, this is something that I have to do for my psych class, and I know it’s a little childish, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do as a group bonding thing.” Ryan’s grinning about their enthusiasm, and he’s not the only one. The whole table watches Kit, entirely enamored. “There are some questions in this hat—”
“My hat,” Ryan brags.
“It’s douchey,” Axe informs him.
Dakota turns and frowns at both of them. “Let Kit talk.”
Rebuked, they both offer their apologies. Kit beams at them and waves their hand. “The questions get a little heavy, so if you really don’t want to answer the one you pick, you can put it back and find one that’s more comfortable for you. I have a survey for after where you guys’ll say if you think it helped and whatnot.” They wait until the table nods their assent. “Okay. Dakota gets to start, because I love Dakota.”
Dakota seems rather happy about this, pawing through the hat for a full twenty seconds before everyone starts griping at him out of anticipation. He picks one, finally, then laughs. “Oh, nope,” he says, dropping it right back into the hat.
“What was it?” Ryan asks.
“Mind your business, Ry.” Ryan frowns. Dakota pays him no mind and pulls out a second slip of paper. “Oh, okay. ‘If you ruled the world, what’s one thing you would change?’—and, clearly, my answer is to instate platonic kissing as a cultural practice.”
Kit nods and pets Dakota’s hair for his good behavior. “Good! Now Breanna.”
there used to be a fuller text conversation around the silly national shower with a friend day bit in pancakes, but i ended up removing it because i felt it wasn't really necessary.
-
Right as he’s drafting a whiny text about how he’s losing certainty in Axe’s attraction to him, Hannah sends him a screenshot of a trend on Twitter: #NationalShowerWithAFriendDay. “ask axe to do this cool internet thing with you!!!” Hannah adds, and it’s a joke, he knows it is, but he can’t resist that opening. He takes her screenshot and sends it in the group chat.
Ryan: [image] bro
Ryan: wait i should clarify that that was directed at axe
word nerd: Clearly. Who else?
kit ☀: [calls you bro and also asks to shower with you in the same text] i love ryan
rasta moss: oh nice i call kit for the friend showers
reema: Breanna !!
rasta moss: thats ur GIRLFRIEND that doesn’t count
reema: :(
word nerd: Dibs on Kenzie because aro n axe squad
word nerd: NO.
word nerd: Ace****** not axe. my phone actually autocorrected to axe, phenomenal, he’s managed to infiltrate our phones
Ryan: MY PHONE DOES THAT TOO
Ryan: [image] “axe” is literally the first suggested word when I type A
word nerd: That’s a little embarrassing, my guy
Ryan: nah because when I type a d “dakota” is second only to “dick”
baby boy: Hi hell yes I will shower with you dude, AXE SQUAD, that’s so cute how your phone autocorrects to me what a dream, when I type THIGHS it goes all caps because of you thanks so much, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I’M WORKING BYE I love all of you have a nice night!!
word nerd: Child. Why are you screaming
Ryan shares Axe’s (and Dakota’s, because he loves Dakota) reaction with Hannah, but still shares his worries over whether or not it’s a good idea to give Axe the photos. Hannah votes yes because she wants Ryan to get fucked again. As any friend would.
i titled this "sweet bein together nonsense" in my google drive and i cannot for the life of me understand where it originally fit into pancakes. all i can guess is that there was an alternative get together i was toying with at some point that didn't involve them sealing the deal with a 2 day sex marathon
--
Ryan dithers outside Axe’s door, locking his car again. There’s a flower pot to the right of the doorframe, and Ryan would bet anything there's a spare key beneath it because it's Axe and he probably doesn't waste a second thinking about burglars.
Then again, Ryan thinks, glancing around the apartment complex with its charming little plots of flowers and its dainty handrails leading up the stairs—nothing like the bulky concrete ones at Ryan’s place—maybe burgling isn't much of a concern here.
A few doors down, someone tall and built steps out of their apartment, running armband strapped on and their headphones pushed in. Ryan doesn't really want to know what he looks like, standing on a doorstep this nice in jeans he cut into capris and a years old hoodie, but he doubts anyone else really wants to see it, so he leans on the doorbell and tries not to fidget.
Behind him, he hears them pick up into a jog. Their footfalls have mostly faded by the time Axe swings open the door, cat cradled to his chest. It's the fatter cat, so Ryan’s confident enough that it likes him. He reaches out to scratch beneath Susan’s chin.
Axe is a little breathless as he invites Ryan in, but Ryan’s used to this now, how excitable Axe is about having visitors—and it's twice as exciting when that visitor is a friend, or whatever Ryan counts as. He gives Axe a few seconds to catch his breath. When he starts his fifth sentence in, oh, the the past ten seconds, Ryan reaches out and touches Axe’s chest. “Breathe, dude.”
“Sorry,” Axe says, smile all sorts of bright. “I’m happy to see you—really, really happy. You want a drink?”
Ryan agrees to a water, but before Axe can turn his back to fill the glass under the sink, Ryan grabs him by the hips and presses him against the counter. Axe just smiles, probably because he knows, so Ryan just—does it. He leans in until their foreheads touch, then he tips his chin forward to help their mouths meet.
Axe smiles softly through it, planting a hand on Ryan’s chest and letting himself be kissed. Ryan pulls back after a few seconds, and he expected more, but apparently kissing Axe is just as simple as that when you aren't all high on arousal. They stay in each other’s space for a few moments, then Axe pushes close again, hand gliding up to guide Ryan’s jaw.
“Missed that,” Axe whispers, after a third—or fourth? fifth?—Ryan lost count of the kisses. “Missed you.”
Ryan swallows and nods, closing his eyes to focus on all the places they're touching—hips and toes, knees and noses. Axe’s mouth is warm on the inside even if he runs cold on the surface, and Ryan can't help but push down on Axe’s chin until his mouth falls open again to accept everything Ryan’s got to give. Ryan missed this, too.
They kiss quietly in the kitchen for no more than a couple of minutes, but it feels like ages to Ryan as he works hard to catalog every little touch, every little hitch of breath, every little shift of Axe’s body. Eventually, Susan gets jealous and shoves his way in between their tangled ankles, so Axe pets him idly with a socked foot as he fills the glass of water. Ryan traces his fingers over Axe’s back, unwilling to stop touching now that they've started.
Ryan knew his body missed Axe. He'd have to use both hands to count the number of times Axe made blood rush south when they were out in broad daylight, and he'd need a lot more than two hands to count how many times he’s jerked it in the past six months. But it's different, now, to be able to touch without worrying he's overstepping, without worrying about starting something they can't finish.
It's been a while since innocent touches were enough, Ryan thinks. That dates back to Trinity. Maybe even further than that.
He helps himself to Axe’s bed, choosing the lefthand side out of habit while Axe yells for Paxton to wear pants if he decides to walk around the house. There's a snowglobe on Axe’s nightstand—someone visited Canada and brought him back a memoir, apparently—so Ryan has to shake it and watch the snow fall over Vancouver.
“My aunt Mary,” Axe offers, even if Ryan didn't ask. He doesn't bother coming around the other side of the bed, just crawls over Ryan and slots himself against Ryan’s side. “Wanna put it down?”
“Why should I do that?” Axe gets a hold on his arms and tugs, trying to pull Ryan on top of him. Ryan shakes the snowglobe again, just to be contrary. “I lived in Canada for, like, five seconds, you know. My parents have citizenship there or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, you've lived a lot of places,” Axe says, fingers slipping on Ryan’s skin. “Get on me, dude.”
Ryan rolls his eyes and sets the snowglobe aside before he climbs onto Axe’s lap. “Fifteen cities,” Ryan adds, pulling two of the three pillows out from behind Axe’s head so he can lie down more comfortably. “Did you lock the door?” With a smile, Axe shakes his head. “Why not? Is Paxton kinky, too? Do you guys travel in packs?”
“Stop,” Axe says, laughter breaking up the word. “C’mon, if we're gonna get serious about this, I’ll at least tell him to get out.”
“Get serious about. . .?”
Axe quirks a brow. “You’re not quiet, Ryan.”
Ryan scoffs and smacks Axe’s chest. “Don’t be a dick. You’re the one who didn't shut up the whole time.”
“We’re both loud,” Axe allows. His eyes drop lower, taking in the stretch of Ryan’s torso, the spread of his thighs. “Shoulda just met at your place, gave your neighbors a show.”
Ryan adamantly refuses to let something like that turn him on—the idea of giving people a show, nice, the idea of giving his neighbors consisting of a drug dealer and a single parent a show, no thanks—but Axe must see something in his expression anyway. He spreads his palm against Ryan’s lower back and guides him down until Ryan’s hair is brushing his forehead. “Should I have left the door cracked?” Axe tilts his chin up and presses his mouth to Ryan’s forehead. “You want people to see how good you look?”
Ryan wasn't exactly sober during his first and only threesome, so he doesn't clearly remember how good it felt to be watched. He did like two sets of hands touching him, but that's something to be explored later—Ryan just wants this, for now, wants Axe’s hands skimming his back and Axe’s fingertips digging into the divot of his spine. Two hands are more than enough.
“Maybe,” Ryan allows. “We’ll try it sometime.”
For whatever reason, that makes Axe smile all sweet and bright. Ryan has to kiss him.
They stay like that for some time, Ryan folded over on top of Axe, finding a dozen different ways for their mouths to fit together, but the second his lower limbs start feeling staticy and achy, Ryan rolls off and shuffles onto his side, pulling Axe with him. Once they're resituated, mouths coming back together without any trouble, Ryan hooks his thigh up over Axe’s hip.
Axe makes a sound against Ryan’s mouth that probably loosely translates to the word “thighs”—just in all capital letters, bolded, underlined. Ryan likes the sound of that, so he uses his leg to yank Axe closer, and this time Axe’s sound shoots up into something like neon sign territory.
All sorts of amused, Ryan pulls back to ask, “You alright?”
Axe grunts, noncommittal, and slides his hand from Ryan’s back to his thigh, squeezing hard. Ryan watches his expression, expecting something to tremble, something as proof that Axe is turned on, but instead it smooths out, his jaw unclenching. Ryan presses his thigh closer, and Axe lets out a sigh. And since Ryan’s getting the hang of this whole communication thing, it's pretty easy to just say, “I can't tell if you're turned on or if you're about to, like, meditate.”
“Kind of both,” Axe says, lazy smile stretching across his face before he bothers to blink open his eyes. “I don't know, like—I mean, you know firsthand thighs do it for me, just. . .sometimes they're kinda soothing.”
“Soothing,” Ryan repeats.
“Like. . .” Axe trails off, marshaling his thoughts. “When you kind of hold me with ‘em. Box me in. I mean, it for sure works for my dick, too, but it just feels—safe?”
Even when he's unsure of what to say, Axe still manages to say it confidently. Ryan wonders if that's something he can teach.
“I thought you weren't really into being held down,” Ryan says carefully, because that came up a time or two, and Axe said it definitely wasn't for him.
“I’m not,” Axe assures him, confirming his suspicions. “It's a different kind of security. I don't know how to word it. It might just be, like, I like being close?” He shrugs to show he's not losing any sleep over figuring it out. “It's just nice. Want your thighs all over me, buddy.”
Ryan hums and nudges his way closer again to kiss and bite and lick at Axe’s bottom lip. “The one time I want you to go all thigh fetish on me, and you won't.”
Axe laughs into his mouth. Ryan can't stop smiling about that for a few long seconds, has to hide his face in Axe’s neck and mouth at the skin there instead. “I’ll get there. Give me time.”
The collar of Axe’s shirt is loose enough to be manipulated, so Ryan takes advantage, pushing it down until he has the room to get his teeth on Axe’s collarbone; again, though, this doesn't seem to turn Axe on half as much as the first time. Ryan gets Axe's hand on the back of his neck, nothing but encouraging, yet for all his careful nibbling and sucking, all he gets are a few nearly soundless sighs. He even goes in for a second mark, but after the first touch of his teeth, Axe more or less goes boneless beneath him.
Ryan has to remind himself that he can just ask now, but it still feels weird to say, “Is this doing anything for you?”
Axe’s eyes open slowly, and that's where Ryan’s getting lost—all of Axe’s movements are slow like honey rolling off a honey dipper. His mouth is always eager when Ryan kisses him, opening readily like he’s been waiting for Ryan to come back, and just as engulfing as usual, but there’s none of the fire, stupid as that sounds. Axe isn't arching into his touches like he really, really wants them, he's just acting like he's glad the touches are there at all. Ryan doesn't know how to read it.
“Yeah,” Axe says eventually, and his weird pronunciation of the word steadies Ryan a little. “Yeah, I’m into this, hundred and ninety percent—why’re you asking? It just takes more than this for me to get hard, if that's what you're worried about.”
Ryan shakes his head because he’s heard the whole spiel about Axe’s sex drive, so he mostly knows how that goes, just—“I don't know, you just seem less excited, I guess.”
“As compared to. . .us hooking up.” Axe doesn't pose it as a question, but Ryan nods. Axe curls his palm around Ryan’s thigh again, and the weight’s steady, unhesitant—something Ryan could get used to. “The contexts are different,” Axe tells him, getting his elbow underneath his side so he can lean up a little. “I mean, hook ups are sort of all about the excitement, right? But I’m more or less settled into this, with you. I’m still excited, I swear. It's just in a different way.”
Ryan nods along, stroking the back of Axe’s leg with his foot. “I guess it's just weird not to get the same reactions.”
“Let's put it this way,” Axe starts, pushing at Ryan’s shoulder until he lies flat on his back. When Axe moves over Ryan, Ryan wraps his thighs around Axe’s midsection, hooking his ankles together and savoring Axe’s pleased little smile. “The first time I fucked you, I wasn't really into you like this. The romantic stuff makes it slower for me. Maybe I’m a little less excitable right now, but I promise”—Axe rolls his hips pointedly, and Ryan’s whole body sings at even the suggestion—“we're gonna have days where I’ll be fucking thrilled to have you in my bed.”
Ryan tries not to breathe too heavy in the face of—all that. “Alright, sold.”
They both end up laughing about that, and Axe bends down to kiss him, the happy little hum probably more for Ryan’s benefit than it is for anything else. Their arms get tangled briefly when Axe reaches up to touch Ryan’s face and Ryan tries to grab at Axe’s chest in the same moment, but they rearrange and keep kissing and kissing.
Ryan’s jaw starts to hurt after however long, and his tongue could probably use a few minutes of rest, too, but Axe seems good to to keep going, dragging his mouth down Ryan’s chin, leaving a messy trail of saliva. It's gross, Ryan thinks, but it's also Axe, which sort of cancels out whatever else. He kisses Ryan’s windpipe, and Ryan tries to just hold his breath through it, but Axe notices. As usual.
“Want me to touch you here?” he asks, casual as ever. “I won't press or anything. Just touch.”
“I’ve been touching your neck,” Ryan responds, because that much is true; not even five minutes ago, his hand was sealed to the side of Axe’s throat, guiding Axe this way and that.
“You know it's different. Want me to?”
Ryan tries to roll his eyes, but they aren't taking orders from him right now. Instead, he just rasps out some approximation of an affirmative answer, and Axe’s fingertips trail up his arm, giving Ryan more than enough time to shrug him off.
Axe’s hand on his neck doesn't feel like anything great nor grand, but Ryan’s heartbeat does pick up the pace. Axe just holds onto the side of his neck, no different than Ryan held him earlier, except Axe takes the time to trace his fingers across the sensitive skin, paying it extra attention. When his thumb skims over Ryan’s windpipe, Ryan’s hand flies up to squeeze Axe’s wrist—not to stop him, just to—because. . .Ryan doesn’t know why. He just does.
“I told you I won't,” Axe tells him gently. “Just touching. Do you want me to stop?”
Ryan shakes his head, feels his eyes sting for no reason. “Just—too much.”
“So stop?”
Something in Ryan despairs at asking Axe to stop touching his throat, after all the time he’s spent wishing Axe would, but it’s probably for the best. “Yeah, for now. ‘M sorry.”
“Don't be sorry,” Axe says firmly. “It's probably a lot for you.”
“Mm,” Ryan agrees, and really, the only way to restabilize is by teasing, so he takes the road well-traveled. “Think, like, the first time you touched some bare thighs. Or, like, the first time you got someone to spit on you, I guess. Or whatever the fuck else you're into.”
“I’m into you,” Axe says fervently. “Spit on me anytime.”
It's hard not to burst out laughing when confronted with a sentence like that, so Ryan doesn't hold back, and Axe starts laughing, too, after a few seconds. Axe shuffles down until he can rest his head on Ryan’s chest, and Ryan thinks—maybe it's okay if they're done for the day, even if he was sort of expecting it to end in sex.
Axe grapples for his phone on the nightstand, and he's a good three inches off, so Ryan stretches to shove it into his hand. He gets a peck on his chest for his trouble. “Made us a few playlists,” Axe announces, and Ryan watches as he pulls up Spotify and starts scrolling. “I’ve got our indie-alt overlap, our 90s stuff we talked about, and just some chill pop songs I know we both like. What’re you feeling?”
Ryan shrugs, a little too happy about Axe making them special playlists to really be bothered with making a choice. “You pick.”
He must choose their 90s nostalgia playlist because Third Eye Blind fills the room not a second later. Axe drops his phone on his sheets and resettles his head against Ryan’s chest. “Hair,” he says.
He sinks a hand into Axe’s hair and starts twirling it around his fingers without any further prompting.
;;
So the kissing is a thing that happens now. Ryan hasn’t taken it slow like this since he was in middle school and sex wasn’t quite in his vocabulary yet, but he kind of—actually, scratch the kind of—Ryan’s enjoying the hell out of it.
Apparently Axe’s communication skills in the bedroom don’t extend to solidifying a relationship, and again, Ryan can’t help but think that they’re sort of in limbo—that space between being a thing and being together—but even with those thoughts, it doesn’t feel urgent to put a name on it. In fact, Ryan doesn’t think he’s been this not stressed since, like, birth. The job situation is not quite resolved, but he’s applied to a few places and carefully denied his mother’s offer to give him a job in her company (he’s heard all the horror stories about working for a parent). Money’s tight, but not so tight that Ryan’s falling over himself to get a second job, and his car’s all fixed even if Ryan’s still a little speculative of where exactly Dakota got the exact tire Ryan needed. He’s pretty sure it wasn’t just “lying around” the way Dakota said, but maybe Ryan’s just learning to accept help when someone extends an offer. And maybe he has big plans to make it up to Dakota later.
But—kissing. Axe greets him by the mouth when they visit one another—only twice since they kissed in the first place, so Ryan’s still waiting on the third one to call it a pattern—and when they’ve used up all their time, Axe takes Ryan’s face into his hands to say goodbye. Natalie’s taken to calling Axe Ryan’s boyfriend, and Ryan tells her to shut up every time, but he can’t really give her a better word for it.
They’re definitely not fuckbuddies; they haven’t even had time to half-ass a handjob, much to Ryan’s disappointment. They’re definitely not just friends, or at least Ryan wouldn’t make out with his friends and call them “baby” like he’s getting paid per instance. But boyfriends—it sounds like a word that could work. Maybe if the lack of a label starts to bother Ryan enough, he’ll bring it up; for now, he’s content to hold Axe’s hand in Dakota’s back seat.
It’s funny because, for all of the insistence that Axe and Ryan get their shit together, none of their friends seem to pick up on the fact that they’re holding hands in plain sight. Dakota has all the details, because he’s Dakota and because Ryan loves him more than life itself, sometimes, and he couldn’t stop himself from oversharing about something that’s been such a mood booster lately, but he’s apparently kept it to himself. Ryan thinks he saw McKenzie glance over a few moments ago, but she didn’t speak on it either.
Ryan squeezes Axe’s hand, and Axe perks up and catches Ryan’s eyes, but Ryan shrugs him off. He didn’t have anything to say; he just wanted to hold Axe tighter, which is stupid and romantic, yes, but Axe has done way worse. He fucking brought Ryan breakfast in bed the other day. At 3 PM. Because Ryan’s sleeping schedule is still a mess. He kissed maple syrup off Axe’s fingertips in the least sexual way possible then rolled over and took a fifteen minute nap while Axe played some cat game on his phone until he had to go to class. Ryan felt like he was married for a good two hours, there.
Dakota speeds up considerably, which he usually doesn’t bother with if he can help it—once, Ryan suggested they cruise at five miles over and Dakota went on a tangent about how engineers calculated those speeds, Ryan, to preserve the safety of the general public, and the absolute least we can do is listen to their fucking suggestion—but Ryan feels his phone buzz not a second later. He opens up the latest group chat, sans one Ross Thomas (planning a surprise party on the down-low is difficult, especially for someone as nosy as ross), and taps out a reply.
Kit: fuck fuck ross is like !! rushing me so we leave early i’m trying to stall but. Speed
Breanna: DIE ROSS IM NOT DONE WITH THESE HELL STREAMERS
Ryan: kota’s speedin welk be ther
Ryan: sry typin 1 handed
Breanna: do i even want to ask why you’re typing one handed
Ryan scoffs and pulls Axe’s hand onto his lap so he can take a clearer picture.
Ryan: [image] hand 2 is busy
Kit: WHAT THE FUCKIgh
Kit: I’M GOING TO KICK YR ASS IS THAT AXE
He nudges Axe to read the messages. “Kit’s gonna kick my ass.”
“Breanna will probably defend you for me if I give her a twenty,” Axe says thoughtfully before he reads the messages. Then he unlinks their hands, takes Ryan’s phone, and types out “Ya it’s me” and “Please don’t kick his ass I have plans for it” before Ryan has a chance to snatch his phone back.
“You’re a pest,” Ryan insists, reading over the messages. Axe watches on as Ryan screenshots them and sends them to Hannah, because she loves stuff like this, and Ryan’s learned to be a little less bashful about showing Axe off to his friends. When he looks up again, Axe is just grinning at him. “Shut up, baby.”
“Yeah, shut up,” Dakota repeats, flicking through the messages while they’re at a stoplight. “You guys are the fucking worst.”
this just ended up getting cut because i didn't think anyone needed more proof that they're obnoxious flirts
--
It’s only once they’re back in the car that Ryan remembers Susan’s messages. He opens them as discreetly as he can manage sitting on Dakota’s lap in a jam-packed vehicle, relying on his shoulders to shield his screen and hoping his friends are in the mood to mind their own business.
Susan’s gorgeous, and her taste in lingerie is impeccable. Ryan texts back youre killing me and deletes the pictures one by one before he slouches down against Dakota.
“What game are you playing?” he asks, chin bumping against Ryan’s shoulder as Natalie hits a pothole.
Ryan answers him and grunts when he loses the level. Without so much as a “please,” Dakota snatches Ryan’s phone from his hands and tries it for himself, arms circled around Ryan’s chest, but he’s awful at the game, steadily losing before the level even gets going, and Ryan’s laughing against Dakota’s bicep when the flash goes off.
He blinks at Reema, who must have gained possession of Ryan’s camera at some point, and she coos over how cozy he and Dakota look in the photo, spinning the camera around so everyone can see. It’s a sweet picture, a little blurry, but charming nonetheless. Ryan extends himself across all the laps in the backseat to grab hold of his camera and fiddle with a couple of view settings.
“Hey, I kind of love th—Dakota.”
Though it didn’t hurt, the sound of Dakota’s palm hitting Ryan’s ass is loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “I can’t not slap an ass that’s right in front of me,” Dakota jokes. After a moment of thought, he adds, “You sort of have a fat ass, Ry-Fry.”
While Ryan’s squawking over the nickname, almost everyone in the car cranes their neck to get an eyeful. “Hey! At least try and be discreet. Christ.”
“Axe is the only one who didn’t look,” Ross says. “Well, Natalie didn’t either. Thank God. Incest is so awkward, amirite ladies?”
The whole car groans at Ross’s catchphrase. “I don’t have to look at Ryan’s ass,” Axe says as he stares out the window. “I can look at it all I want in my head.”
Ryan rips off Dakota’s beanie and pitches it at Axe. Dakota screams, Natalie swerves, and Axe shouts that he wasn’t thinking about Ryan’s ass, he was just saying that he could. Ryan thinks about that then says, “Now I’m kind of offended you aren’t thinking about my ass.”
After scrambling for the beanie and tossing it back to its rightful owner, Axe shoots Ryan a look of disbelief. “So if I think about your ass, you’re mad, and if I don’t think about it, you’re still mad?” Ryan shrugs and nods, trying to maintain gravity, but he ends up grinning. “Hard to please.”
“Was I really?”
Natalie attempts to derail the line of discussion by blasting her radio, but the volume knob pops off when she tries to twist it. “Goddamned piece of shit,” she curses, banging her palm against the dashboard. Without a word, McKenzie wrestles the knob out of Natalie’s hand and leans over the console to reattach it.
Commotion erupts around them as the radio flicks on then off again, but Axe still has Ryan pinned with a heavy look. “If I’m honest, man, you were—”
Since her radio can’t do the job for her, Natalie uses her words to cut Axe short. “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we’re all tired of hearing about you two and your magical night.”
Unhelpful as ever, Ross clears his throat and says, “I’m not tired of it.” He gets a few withering looks for his trouble, and his shoulders squeeze up by his ears in an exaggerated shrug. “I want to know all the freaky shit they did.”
Where Ross got the idea that Axe and Ryan have any depraved stories to tell, Ryan will never know, but this is as good a time as any to shoot the theory down. “We weren’t that wild. The freakiest it got was Axe’s thigh fetish.”
Several of them shout in disgust, but it’s quickly overruled by laughter and teasing. From the other side of the car, Axe levels their gazes and tells Ryan, “Those were fighting words.”
Kit flaps a hand at him. Even if Axe had the physical faculties to hold his own in a fight, he would still be too much of a lover to bother. “Oooh,” they say, “what music did you guys listen to?”
“Axe probably spent more time choosing the music than he did fucking you, didn’t he, Ryan?”
“Guys.” Natalie tries to sound tortured, but because Ryan knows her well, he hears her curiosity loud and clear. “Sister is right here. I do not want these details.”
“We didn’t even listen to music.”
In sync, Kit, Dakota, and Natalie demand, “What?!”
Axe shrugs unselfconsciously. “I wanted to be able to hear you.”
“Oh, cool.” He isn’t sure what Axe means by that. “I was pretty happy to hear you, too, I guess.”
“Axe has had sex, like, three times without music,” Kit spills. “He always complained that he didn’t know what to do without it.”
“Oh, believe me, he knew was doing. Maybe he was listening to music in his head or something.”
“I sure was,” Axe says. “If two straight hours of the hallelujah chorus counts as music, that is.”
Ryan chuckles a few times before it really hits him, how funny and stupid and strange this conversation is, and then his laughter picks up. Kit and Ross loose snickers of their own until Natalie’s car is full to the brim with contagious laughter as everyone continually sets one another off.
originally, i thought it might work to have ryan stew a little over his "i'm a big slut" reveal (...is it even a reveal...) the morning after kit's housewarming party, but of course i eventually went back on that because axe is an annoying communicator and wouldn't have left the house without checking in with ryan. duh
basically at kit's housewarming, they necked a little in the kitchen when they were eating 'cause that's just what you do
anyway
--
The next few days are a blur of one-word responses to text messages and extensive Futurama marathons to pass the time.
Dakota texts him to ensure that they're still best friends. Ryan offers a straightforward, “yes.” After that comes a longer message that begins with a word Ryan isn’t familiar with, so he chooses not to read it. He turns off notifications on their text thread and returns to watching Futurama.
His sister is up next, enthralled over upcoming plans with Lavanya, and all an embittered Ryan can afford her is a flat “cool.” Natalie calls him a dick, which is fair. He cowers beneath his thick comforter after, breathing in recycled air until it goes stale. Then he tucks his sheets beneath his chin and takes a nap.
Last week, Ryan would have been grinning every time his phone vibrated in quick succession, certain that it would be Axe with approximately no fear of double-texting. Now, it mostly irritates him—but Axe acts the same as ever, sending Ryan pictures of his cats, quotes from conversations, and song recommendations. Stirring from his nap yields three more messages from Axe, these far lengthier and these beginning with “Hey, I just wanted to…”
He groans under his breath and tosses his phone away lazily. The damned device bounces off his mattress and flips onto the floor, after ricocheting off his nightstand. Ryan groans louder.
His phone screen is cracked, he discovers, about an hour later. He deserves this much, too.
Reema drops in on him entirely unannounced and Ryan can't fault her, since he previously awarded his friends the privilege of stopping by to bother him anytime. Plus, she bestows an avocado wrap upon him, complete with a gorgeously serene smile. Ryan couldn't tell her no if he tried.
Apparently, Reema’s seeking refuge before she goes back to work for a second shift. Ryan gestures grandly to his not-so-grand apartment and bites into his avocado wrap as Reema drapes herself across the couch. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you've been a little off,” she mentions, almost teasing. “I assume it's related to avocado deficiency.”
Ryan cracks a smile but it doesn't loiter. If Reema caught wind of his brisk replies, someone's told her about it—he can't even remember the last time he messaged her privately. Suddenly his wrap tastes joyless, despite the uplifted moan that escaped after his first bite. “I just haven't been in a talking mood.”
“Completely understandable,” Reema says, almost fiercely. Ryan sets his wrap down because his hands threaten to tremble. “I just figured you could do with some food. And a massage.”
“A massage.” Reema nods and pulls her lime green snapback off. “Like, what kind?”
“I can find your stressed muscles if you want,” she tells him, “but back massages are pretty standard. Proven to relieve stress and lessen anxiety and depression. I didn't bring my lavender oil with me, but I’m learning massage therapy practices for insomnia. Finally.”
She delivers all of this with a smile. Ryan fidgets with the to-go box; it’s a light brown and brags its own recyclability, but Ryan can’t confidently state that his apartment complex even has a recycling bin. “I didn't know massages, like, actually did anything mentally,” Ryan confesses.
Reema reins her smile in, letting it settle into something softer, and Ryan doesn't miss the way her voice adjusts from friendly to soothing. “I can assure you that they help me and a lot of other customers at our shop. It couldn't hurt anything to try, right?”
“You're using a voice on me,” Ryan points out. Reema’s smile stays put, but Ryan catches amusement in her eyes. “I guess. Show me what the hype’s about, at least.”
She nods, a slow, calm motion, and reaches into her backpack. A folded, navy blue mat is what comes out. “You're prepared,” he comments wryly, watching Reema undo the velcro straps. “Do all massage therapists carry around little mats?”
“Not all,” Reema allows. When she stands, the mat tumbles towards the ground. Reema shakes it out and lays it flat. “Just the ones who are prepared to give their friends massages, if needed.”
“So you planned this.” He doesn't mean to bristle, especially around Reema—arguably the last person who deserves any measure of hostility from him—but he does anyways. “Who talked shit to you?”
“This space,” Reema begins gently, spreading her arms to include his entire apartment, “is presently a positive one. Ask me again after the massage.”
Ryan resists the urge to roll his eyes and only succeeds because, firstly, it’s Reema, and secondly, she hasn’t done anything to warrant animosity on his part. Nevertheless, a scowl takes up residence across his brow and remains as he settles onto the navy mat; it exceeds his expectations in terms of softness, and getting comfortable is far from an uphill battle. Reema disappears from his side and fiddles with his blinds, cutting off some of the natural lighting.
The mat is a cozy one. Reema’s footfalls are soft, a stark contrast to her chronic stomper of a girlfriend, and Ryan resolves to close his eyes, if only to indulge Reema’s passion. His friends have done more than enough of this, being the subject of his photographs—both unknowingly and knowingly—as well as watching their way through seasons of Futurama for his benefit. If Reema wants to give him a massage, yet another thing for his enjoyment, Ryan can do that much.
Reema hushes him and guides him into lying horizontal. She tucks Ryan's arms against his sides. “Does ‘peaceful indie’ sound good for music?”
The way Ryan’s chest warms over Reema knowing something as fundamental as his music preferences is mildly pathetic, but the way he nearly confesses his platonic love for her is a whole new level of sad. “Yeah,” he replies, and his voice comes out blessedly unaffected. “Thanks.”
Whatever candle Reema chose to burn, Ryan’s a fan—it smells light and somehow mystical, a flower that isn’t easily placed, but one ordinary enough that it doesn’t distract. Reema clears her throat and asks his permission to begin, and once Ryan offers a hum of approval, she places her oil-covered hands on the small of his back and slowly glides them upwards. “Let me know if anything is uncomfortable or painful. Deep breath,” she prompts, and Ryan follows directions, taken aback by the almost healing effect of something as simple as a breath.
Her hands migrate around his back, shoulders, and neck, kneading here and pressing there. Predictable as ever, Ryan’s lulled into a sleep-like state and his responses to Reema’s professional questioning primarily consist of nonsensical mumbles. She continues to call upon him for deep breaths and Ryan continues to take them. Eventually, his deep breaths are consistent enough that they carry him to sleep.
Reema rouses him with gentle shakes to his shoulder. Ryan grunts. She laughs at him. “I let you sleep for a minute, but I have to get back to work.” Her voice is kept low to respect his state of exhaustion. The room has brightened up again—the blinds reopened and the candle snuffed out.
Ryan grunts again, peering at Reema with a single eye open. She’s smiling at him, clutching her phone in her hand, and it doesn’t require a genius to infer that she photographed him. He tries for accusatory as he calls her a traitor and lands somewhere between ‘blissful’ and ‘half-asleep’.
She coaches him through a few stretches and Ryan fights with his sleep-soaked limbs. He hadn’t even realized how tightly wound his back muscles were, but as he rises up to roll his shoulders, the disparity is blatant. He voices exactly what’s on his mind. “You just spoiled the hell out of me.” Proud, Reema beams and Ryan does his best to smile back—he isn’t quite awake and he has no idea how the expression comes out. “Do I, like, owe you anything?”
“I sincerely hope you aren’t offering me money,” Reema responds, voice kind with an impending threat.
Ryan accepts this easily, as an avid lover of all things free as well as an avid supporter of his own bank account. He rolls off the navy blue mat, one that served as a rather pleasant bed, though it can’t be more than two inches thick.
“Seriously, I’m spoiled,” he tells her as they’re trudging down the stairs—or, well, Ryan’s trudging. Reema, being far more athletic than him, conquers stairs with envious energy. “I’ll be calling you and Bree within the week to whine about some sudden back pain.”
Reema’s laughter, Ryan muses, is a far cry from Kit’s bubbling brightness; where their laugh is liquid sunshine, hers is the muted predecessor to nighttime. He likes it a lot. Mentally, he files it with the other mass of mannerisms he plans to photograph, alongside McKenzie’s subdued posture and Ross’s squared shoulders. Really, he could develop an entire collection showcasing the polarities within his group of friends.
His mind starts whirring, creativity alight and flowing faster than he expected. Once he sees to it that Reema drives out of the parking lot safe, he jogs up the stairs with ambition and ignores the way his breathing suffers for it.
The ideas practically flood out of him as he works up a list. Pictures yet to be taken flash across his mind—the difference between his sister’s chin, lifted in faux confidence, and the way Axe’s chin rests evenly, the boy being too self-aware and contented to bother inching it upwards or down; the contrast between the way Breanna and Dakota each take up space, a flawless depiction of fight-or-flight.
Maybe Ryan can work with this.
;;
He’s sifting through the box of avocados at Martin's when his phone starts vibrating in his satchel; so, with one hand still clutching a green fruit, he wrestles the device out. His screen is cracked, apparently taking no pity on its owner and declining the route of self-repair. The blemish has only worsened due to his habit of tossing his devices around thoughtlessly. It takes three swipes for his phone to process the request to answer the call, and it’s only as he’s lifting the phone to his ear that the ‘baby boy’ across the top of his screen registers.
Fuck, Ryan thinks. Muscle memory’s a bitch. “Hey,” he greets, frowning at the avocado in his hand when it yields to gentle pressure. Every avocado in this box is yielding to gentle pressure. He huffs and chooses a new one.
“Heyo,” Axe drawls, sounding rather suave. “What’re you up to?”
“Getting groceries.”
“So the cutie by the avocados is you,” Axe says. Ryan blinks and fumbles an avocado. The call drops, maybe his fault or maybe Axe’s decision, then, on his left, “Hi.”
Selecting yet another avocado, Ryan refuses to look up. “Stalker.”
Axe giggles, always overjoyed when someone takes the time to tease him, and Ryan’s chest lurches, a complicated concoction of affection and unease. “Paxton dragged me here to take a break from math.” One pale hand scoops up two avocados at once, and Ryan is briefly distracted by the sheer size of Axe’s hands—of course, he’s noticed how large they are (it was impossible not to notice, considering how intimate they’ve been), but somehow it leaves him winded. Just over four days since he last saw Axe and he’s already gagging for it again. Predictable. “How do you pick avocados?”
Axe sounds genuinely interested, for whatever reason, so Ryan gives him a quick walkthrough complete with a demonstration. The younger boy hums along and frequently presses his lips together, either memorizing Ryan’s directions or hiding smiles. It's always an dizzying thing, having Axe’s undivided attention. Ryan continues rambling. “Sometimes if I’m feeling lazy I just pick whatever I get my hands on,” he confesses, and his mouth keeps going, despite how his brain attempts to regain control. “Or, like, if I’m at a store and I know the selection is shit anyways—and it is sort of shitty here, which is disappointing."
Dropping one of the avocados back into the display, Axe offers Ryan the remaining one. His nails are painted red. “This one feels right.”
It takes all the focus of a neurosurgeon to take the avocado from Axe without brushing his skin. The avocado is firm and will be ready to eat in a few days, precisely what Ryan was looking for, so he drops it into his produce bag. “Thanks,” he tells Axe. The word comes out clumsy and Ryan berates himself for being so horrendously awkward around someone he could easily call his best friend. After one therapeutic breath, a practice Reema taught him during the massage, Ryan has the strength to look Axe in the eye. “How are you?”
Axe lifts his arm for one reason or another—regardless of his intention, he bumps an avocado and sends it rolling. Ryan catches it before it falls to the floor, then ends up bagging the fruit after it proves firm enough. “You’re welcome,” Axe says, all amused. “I’m good at finding avocados.”
Ryan tries not to smile, but he does anyways. Axe sounds ridiculously proud of himself for such a mundane task, and it only multiplies his charm, which isn’t beneficial to Ryan’s health. “Shut up,” he responds. Axe’s grin only grows.
The man is unsettlingly unassuming. He hasn’t so much as mentioned the texts that have gone unanswered nor the Snapchats that were promptly opened and ignored. In Axe’s place, Ryan would have already sworn himself off as a second-rate friend that requires far too much effort, but somehow Axe is breezy and blithe as he stands before Ryan. Long arms swing idly. He's wearing shorts, battling the heat outside, which leaves a fair portion of his admittedly pasty tattooed legs on display. His crew socks are a baby blue, a near-match to his latest hair color, and they’re patterned with breakfast foods. All this paired with a t-shirt that looks a few sizes too small, rendering it a borderline crop top—Axe’s appearance is undeniably him.
He looks ridiculous in an individualistic, admirable, and entirely endearing manner. Ryan might sigh something wistful and dreamy.
“Cute socks.” The remark is wry. Ryan couldn't ballpark the number of minutes he spent staring at Axe if he tried. The younger boy has an uncanny ability to strip Ryan of his concept of time.
“You recognize them?” He kicks his foot out to show off his egg-and-bacon emblazoned socks. “Wore these the night we fucked.”
Ryan coughs then chokes, embarrassingly enough. He manages to laugh his way through it. Axe pats him on the back and guides him backwards as a woman approaches with clear intentions to pick through the avocados. “I didn’t recognize them,” Ryan says, after he’s reclaimed sovereign over his vocal chords. “I believe you, though. You would be the type to wear breakfast socks to a club.”
“Well,” Axe starts, sounding far too pleased over drawing a laugh from Ryan, “my motto is, ‘if they don’t like breakfast, what’s the point?’”
“You’ve never even said that.” Ryan’s smiling, deeply aware of how radiant it must be. This raises serious questions regarding his intuition—namely, why Ryan’s mind chose avoidance as the best policy. Axe has made him smile more in ten minutes than he has in four days. Unable to resist, Ryan reaches up to toy with a single curl. “Blue?”
“Tyler picked.” Ryan drops his hand, careful not to linger for too long, but he doesn’t miss the way Axe’s eyes track his hand as if he’s sad to see it go. “Do you like it?” he asks, unabashed as he seeks Ryan’s praise, yet simultaneously coming across humble and kind. Ryan hates him.
“It’s—good,” Ryan responds, stilted. Axe raises an eyebrow. Ryan hates him. “I’m sorry for not replying to you, like—”
“Don’t apologize,” Axe interrupts, and that fact would have annoyed Ryan, if the man didn’t sound so vehement. “You never have to reply to me if you aren’t feeling up to talking. Tyler goes through periods like that all the time. I usually just text her through it so she knows I’m here if she needs me.”
He’s unfathomably understanding, too understanding of Ryan’s actions and reactions, despite their absurdity. It drives Ryan crazy—in ways that leave him breathless because Axe shouldn’t even be real, and in ways that have him swallowing back bitterness because he doesn’t deserve Axe’s kindness.
If Ryan had it his way, he would be deprived and alone, isolated somewhere without a family member or friend in sight. He would spend his days photographing passionless sunrises, just like he did in high school, convincing himself that he loved what he was producing; he would settle for less, because self-esteem is a flimsy, unbalanced force in his life. He knows he can’t hold a stable nor sane opinion on what he does and doesn’t deserve. Maybe Axe is onto something with the philosophy he’s committed himself to—the one that says everyone, even people like Ryan, deserve kindness.
It’s not as hard to swallow as he expected. Axe’s fingertips press down on his phone screen, angling it into the light. “What did you do?” Axe asks, comedic and lighthearted in a way that implies he knows precisely how deep Ryan’s thoughts are.
“I dropped it.” That’s the abridged version anyway. “You’re too nice. And I have more groceries to buy.”
Axe pushes his hands into his pockets. “I should let you get back to it then,” he says. Then he waits.
Ryan rolls his eyes. He says, “Walk with me.”
It takes him twice as long as long as it usually would to get his shopping done with a six-foot, long-limbed, absolute disaster of a man following him around. Axe upsets two displays, though he quickly rights them, and he eagerly accepts samples for food he has no interest in. Ryan watches him thoughtfully swirl a vegetable juice, as if he's genuinely considering purchasing something healthy.
“Want me to grab you a bottle?” Ryan asks wryly, after Axe takes a cautious sip.
“It's not awful,” Axe tries. Ryan huffs out a laugh and tosses it in the trash can beside the sample kiosk. “I was planning on finishing that.”
“They aren't going to get offended if you don't like vegetable juice. Loser.” They stride past the dairy section, confidently going nowhere in particular, but Ryan doubles back for yogurt. He adds a stack of strawberry cups to his basket, hand stuttering when he remembers the last words he and Natalie exchanged—a heartless “cool” and a heartfelt “You're a real dick sometimes, you know that?”
Realistically, he should pile them back onto the shelves. The most he can stand is a single bite of strawberry yogurt before his tastebuds revolt. Axe shifts, then drops a hand to Ryan's arm. “Can we talk for a minute? Like, it doesn't have to be in here if that's not comfortable. We can—” He cuts himself off with an apology, then fights with his pocket until it releases his phone.
“Paxton's probably looking for you,” Ryan points out needlessly.
Axe nods as he texts back. Ryan stares at the strawberry yogurt in his basket and decides he'll just have to apologize to Natalie before it goes bad. “I don't know how forward is too forward,” Axe admits.
Ryan, abruptly and unmistakably nervous, takes a dive for humor. He says, “I’m not going to get my dick out in Martin's.”
Axe stares at him, and Ryan watches the laugh spread slow—the way it registers in his eyes before a breathless guffaw tumbles out of his mouth. It's a moment before Axe catches his breath. Ryan watches on, hoping that everyone down the goddamned aisle hears this man laughing.
“I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘I help you finish your shopping and you drive me home,’” Axe tells him. Subtle as his skin tone might be, Axe's face is ridiculously lustrous in the aftermath of his amusement. His voice dims, matching the dullness of his eyes. Ryan's enraptured anyways. “Just so we can talk more, if you want. If you aren't feeling it, that's totally cool with me. But it'd be nice.”
Ryan, having the distinction feeling that Axe will prattle on with reassurances if he doesn't interrupt, lifts a hand. “Sounds good,” he says slowly, trying to take Axe down a notch, but it's an impossible thing, subduing someone who was crafted to be prominent. “Just, uh, it's not, like, a talk. Is it?”
Axe shrugs. “It could be,” he responds vaguely. “I don't think it's anything you need to stress about, though.”
Grinding his teeth together, Ryan tightens his grip on his shopping basket until he’s practically strangling the poor plastic handles. He hates capital T Talks. He would rather suffer through a thousand desert-dry conversations than undergo a single Talk. Axe is texting again. Ryan spots the gallons of milk over Axe's shoulder, recalling how low he is—he goes through a gallon of milk a week lately, and it's primarily due to Dakota dropping by specifically to deplete Ryan's supply, as if he doesn't have the funds to purchase milk himself. Still, Ryan’s an embarrassment, and he's completely dedicated to feeding his best friend's addiction.
He lifts a gallon of milk and blanches when Axe’s hand brushes across his shoulders. “Sorry—didn’t mean to startle you,” says Axe, far too genuine for such a small occurrence. Light yourself on fire, Ryan’s brain suggests, because complete attraction to someone in all areas—physique, psyche, and spirit—persists on irrational reactions to Axe’s pure existence. “I’m gonna run and give Pax my keys.” Ryan nods. “I’ll be back.”
A sigh wrestles out of him as Axe turns his back, long legs granting him the ability to cross three grocery store tiles in a single step. He peers at the ten or so aisles behind him and idly wonders where one might find lighter fluid.
;;
“So,” Axe begins, the very moment he settles into Ryan’s passenger seat, “I’m thinking it’ll be best if I get the uncomfortable questions out of the way first. Sound good?”
The sight of him sitting passenger is something in which Ryan disallows himself to indulge. It’s a familiar picture, even if Ryan’s only seen it once five months ago and, furthermore, in what certainly qualifies as low lighting. Redirecting his attention to the task of backing out, Ryan nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Axe waits patiently until he’s finished dodging market attendees in the parking lot. Then, without any appropriate prelude, he says, “You feeling off—and, like, wanting to be alone for a few days—that’s not about the hickey, is it?”
The question holds an underlying plea, though it’s not directed at Ryan. It sounds as though Axe was partially imploring every higher with working ears to let Ryan answer honestly with an objection. As quickly as he can get his mouth to respond, Ryan says, “No.” He meant to exemplify the word with earnest reassurance, but it’s difficult to get Ryan to speak clearly, much less speak intelligibly in certain tones. Still, he adds, “You checked that it was okay. Like, four times.”
Axe drops his face to his hands and exhales, lengthy and loud for the sake of catharsis. Ryan regards Axe with concern, having to double-take a red light before it registers in his mind that he needs to stop. “That’s a relief.”
Strangely, Ryan feels inclined to laugh—more due to hysteria than out of amusement. “I hope you didn’t lose sleep over that,” he entreats, eyes pinned to the stoplight in front of him. Perhaps, if he had taken the time to read over Axe’s messages, he could have qualmed that bout of anxiety before it took its toll. When Axe’s silence carries on for far longer than Ryan can bear—in this case, five whole seconds—he blurts, “I mean, you were there. I was the one who was, like, one step down from sacrificing my first born for a fucking hickey.”
Axe giggles, boyish and winsome. When the light flickers to green a second later, Ryan’s acceleration is a touch too aggressive, but Axe doesn’t comment on the swift lurch forward; instead, he calmly gathers the mail that flew off Ryan’s dashboard to assault him. “I have a second question,” Axe mentions, but Ryan doesn’t perceive the same tinge of nerves that accompanied the first inquiry. “It’s a little more sensitive.”
Ryan distinctly knows that Axe is going to ask precisely the question he dreads; it’s the way Axe works, far too close to the heart of things—though, admittedly, most things involving Axe have set up camp within walking distance of Ryan’s heart—and he’s far past being fazed by Axe’s intuition. “Go ahead,” Ryan says.
“I know I sound self-centered, assuming your mood is all about me, but—was it because you feel weird about how I haven’t slept with other people?”
Although Axe phrases it like a question, Ryan’s aware that, in typical Axe-fashion, the man just knows; his emotional intelligence is just as advanced as Dakota’s academic intelligence. That’s part of why Ryan loves overhearing their conversations. Axe knows about things Dakota can’t get in touch with, but the blonde is always eager to learn about things like empathy and body language cues, and Axe, half in love with Dakota, is always eager to hear about things like circadian rhythms and how royally fucked Ryan’s is.
Ryan’s smarts hardly extend beyond camera settings, but he knows by now that Axe isn’t dumb enough to believe a lie. It’s a couple of careful breaths and a lane change before Ryan works up the courage to speak. “Right on the money,” he drawls sarcastically. “Any other points to raise?”
Axe appears to be nothing but delighted by Ryan’s lack of a denial. “Green’s your color,” he comments thoughtfully.
Ryan rolls his eyes, quietly pleased. He’s been enlightened by many that green is by far the best shade on him—the art major he spent a few months flirting with at the start of college went further, noting that hunter green complimented him best—but, embarrassingly, such a simple observation from Axe sends a rush of arrogance through him. Green fucking is Ryan’s color, thanks very much, and it’s a small mercy from the universe to have pulled on a green shirt this morning, unaware that he would run into Axe.
He says, “Thanks.” That sounds sarcastic, too. Ryan doesn’t bother correcting it. Axe can read between the lines if he cares to hear Ryan’s candid response.
Unfortunately, the brief flirtation doesn’t derail Axe from the conversation at hand. The man sands his hands together, twisting the collection of black rings that rest between his knuckles. “Tell me to fuck off if I’m wrong, but you were upset because you have slept with people, right?”
Rather than forming another reflexively sarcastic response, Ryan pauses to gather his words. Now he truly wishes he had taken a moment to read Axe’s texts—then, perhaps, the Talk would have unfolded in writing, where options to edit himself down were plenty. Eventually, he decides on, “Yeah, but I’m mostly over it now. I just felt weird and gross for a few days, and that kind of spread onto other things. The pissy mood wasn’t all on you.”
“Hey,” Axe warns, though his voice verges on encouraging as opposed to threatening. “It was more than just a ‘pissy mood.’ You’re allowed to be upset. I really like it when you’re honest with me about how you feel, so you don’t have to undermine your own emotions.” He waits for Ryan’s nod. “And, anyways, it’s not like we were tied down to each other—it was a one-night stand. I didn’t expect you to stay away from sex and you shouldn’t expect it from yourself, either.”
The phrase ‘one-night stand’ brings an unexpected, if not self-mocking, smile to his face. Ryan doesn’t even know what one-night stands are supposed to be, anymore—not after the clusterfuck that transformed their memorable evening into a far-too-many-strings-attached deal. “Right,” says Ryan, but the word falls out quietly enough to warrant repetition. “So, why didn’t you?”
“Sleep with other people?” Axe tips his head side to side, maybe thinking of a song, maybe finding the right words, or maybe managing both at the same time. “I wasn’t feeling anyone. I never really think much of it when that happens, because it has—like, a lot, actually,” he shares, gesturing widely for emphasis. His knuckles thud Ryan’s passenger side door, but the man doesn’t appear to register his inability to control his own limbs. “When I first moved in with Pax and I finally had the freedom to bring anyone home, it took me six months to get around to it. I was too excited about the extended sleepover. And when I first got really into my music, it felt like I almost didn’t have the brainspace for attraction—or, at least, I overlooked it so I could focus on music.”
It makes sense, granted all of the group hangouts they’ve tossed together over the past few months, and especially noting their mutual discovery of the remarkable, almost unreal platonic connection existed between them. For some time, being close friends more than sufficed. Ryan thinks that it still does; undoubtedly, their sexual connection has proved itself a fierce and uneasily suppressed force, but Ryan believes he could bury that deep and never feel inclined to go grave-digging, if the situation called for it. Belatedly, Ryan replies with a lame utterance of “That makes sense.”
Immediately after speaking, Ryan gets the notion that Axe didn’t expect a response. Axe hums and says no more, considerately offering Ryan a space to ponder and process. He pats the back of Ryan’s hand twice before withdrawing. The ride time that remains is quiet and understated.
It’s only as they’re lugging groceries up to his damned fourth-floor apartment that Ryan realizes he never switched on the radio—statistically speaking, he had a fifty-fifty chance of it working—and even stranger, Axe didn’t demand music to fill the silence. He has to deposit the bags in his left hand on the landing to unlock his door, which involves not only the turning of a key and a handle, but also ramming both his shoulder and his knee into solid wood. He meant to mention that to the leasing office when he returned home from grocery shopping.
Blessedly, having a helper means that only one trip up the stairs is required to transport his groceries. Ryan quickly resolves to never be friendless again, if he can make this a recurring pleasure.