Chapter Text
The world as they knew it would never be the same again. Countries across the globe closed off, travel bans enforced at every border crossing, supermarket shelves ransacked and hospital resources overwhelmed.
They had only seen four out of an indefinite amount of sunsets and Plan was already restless. He knew that he should be grateful. Both of their families were safe, they had various forms of technology to keep them entertained and the cupboards were fully stocked because he’d had the foresight to fill them once rumours of a lockdown had spread. There was only one factor that he hadn’t accounted for, a factor which went by the name of Mean Phiravich.
Plan side-eyed the boy sprawled out next to him on the sofa. His sofa. Mean had intended to go back to his own apartment after rehearsal but the lockdown had been announced earlier than expected. Admittedly, they had panicked and all of the supplies Mean had packed away in his car boot had now become their reserve stash.
Mean was wearing Plan’s clothes. Their second day in isolation had seen him complaining that he needed something to change into after a shower. For the elder, going through his wardrobe had been a task in itself. After sharing his most oversized items, anything that might fit Mean’s taller and more muscular frame, he’d since had to adjust to walking around the flat and finding Mean sporting his favourite travel hoodies. They were in domestic hell.
Finishing a bag of salted popcorn, Mean let the empty wrapper fall to the floor as he shifted to get more comfortable. Plan found himself unable to concentrate on the third installment of their Harry Potter movie marathon, temper bristling.
“Would you do that in your house?” he snapped.
Mean followed Plan’s moody glare. Noticing the offended article, he quickly reached down to retrieve the bag and placed it on the table.
“Sorry,” the younger apologised, “is there okay for now?”
“You know in this flat there are these things called rubbish bins, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of them but they are usually present in most rooms, including the kitchen which is just. fucking. there.” Plan pointed over his shoulder.
“Jesus Christ, if you’re gonna be like that about it then fine!”
Grabbing the empty bag from the table, Mean got to his feet and stalked into the kitchen. As melodramatically as he could, he dropped the bag into the bin from a height as Plan watched, scowling the whole time.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he muttered under his breath when Mean sat back down sulkily, long legs pulled far away from him.
“What the hell’s got into you tonight?”
Plan gawked at the boy next to him. Seizing the TV remote, he pressed pause on Harry, Ron and Hermione trying to save Buckbeak the Hippogriff and turned his attention solely to Mean.
“What’s got into me? What has fucking got into me? Well, how about the world feels like it’s fucking ending? How about there’s a virus going round that’s killing people? How about we’ve had to put all of our work on hold? Or how about we’re on lockdown for god knows how long and I’m fucking stuck in here with YOU of all people!”
Mean dodged to avoid the cushion that Plan hurled in his direction.
“Oh well thanks! That’s just great. I didn't ask for this either you know! Here I was thinking you’d be happy to have the company!”
“I am!” Plan replied through gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control his misplaced anger.
“I am okay? I’m just asking that you play your part in keeping this place clean. I’m not your fucking maid, I’m not going to spend my time picking your shit up after you!”
“It was one bag of popcorn and the film isn’t even finished!”
“Tough!” Plan fired, already painfully aware that he was being unreasonable. “My place, my fucking rules.”
“Fine! If that’s how it’s gonna be, fine. Don’t ask me to do the washing up tomorrow night or help you change the bedsheets or run you a bath when you want to relax. You can sit there worrying yourself silly instead if that’s what you want!”
“How can you not be worried?!”
“Of course I’m worried, you idiot. But for now we are doing what we should be. All of our loved ones are safe, we have everything we need and I’m just glad that I’m not alone. I’m trying to make the best out of a bad situation and I’d appreciate it if you stopped being the voice of doom and gloom for five bloody minutes!”
Mean accompanied his spouting with the kick of a leg into Plan’s side. The elder pushed it away, scolded into silence. Once he’d fully processed the harsh truths dealt to him and after they had both spent an eternity stubbornly staring at a paused screen, Plan felt like a prize jackass.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’m just tired. I’m not sleeping very well.”
“Try crashing on this sofa,” Mean muttered, eventually turning to face him with sympathetic eyes. “You’re forgiven.”
Plan managed a small smile.
“Thanks.”
Mean pressed play and settled back down to finish the film as though they’d never been arguing. That was something Plan liked about him, he wasn’t one to hold a grudge. Mean was kind to everyone, all the time, even when they didn't deserve it.
The shorts he had borrowed barely fit his long legs, skin exposed all the way to mid-thigh when he reclined back on the sofa.
Plan wasn’t sure why but, well, he couldn’t stop looking.
*
“Will you please put that phone down?”
Mean’s exasperated voice interrupted Plan from the religious checking of his Twitter feed every ten minutes.
“Huh?”
“You are driving me, and yourself, bloody insane.”
“I’m just trying to keep up to date with everything going on.”
“Well cut it out. You’ll soon find out about it if there’s any breaking news. At this point it’s becoming a form of self harm, I can see the fear all over your face.”
“I’m not scared.” Plan rebuked.
“Well you should be, and it’s okay to be but please, give yourself a break.”
“I can’t concentrate on anything else,” he sighed, noticing that the Triwizard Tournament competitors had already successfully defeated their dragons.
“Well how’s this for a distraction,” Mean grinned, grabbing for his own phone. “You remember that fan who paints pictures of us? P’Zanook sent me this earlier, apparently it’s been getting a fair bit of attention.”
Flipping the screen so that Plan could see, Mean showed him the new piece which he had to admit, was exceptional. The boy representing him in the photo had arms wrapped around his seated boyfriend’s shoulders and was placing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
They had a lot of talented fans. Plan had seen all sorts of drawings, videos, stories and crafts during the height of their fame since Love by Chance. Sometimes, when he appreciated them, he couldn’t tell where the lines between fiction ended and reality began. Looking at this most recent addition, he tried to find Tin and Can in the painting and instead only found Mean’s eyes. They were too warm to be his literary alter-ego.
“Good, huh?” Mean smiled, “if only you were ever that pleased to see me.”
“Oh, so is that how I’m supposed to greet my friends these days?”
“No, not your friends,” Mean teased, “just me.”
Plan chuckled, knowing that smirk far too well. Mean always had liked to push him. Too comfortable in his own skin, Mean would flirt with a floor mop if there was no one else around.
“Carry on talking shit and you’ll be downgraded even from that.”
“Nonsense,” Mean replied with a flourish, “you wouldn’t survive without me.”
“As if! Sometimes I really do wonder what world you live in.”
Their conversation was then intruded upon by the sound of a news alert from Plan’s phone, bringing them both back to Earth with a thud.
“A dystopian one, by all accounts.” Mean muttered. “Don’t look.”
Before Plan could beat him to it, Mean grabbed for the phone and threw it out of arm's reach.
“Hey! Give it to me!” Plan scrambled.
“No,” the younger held him back, his tone authoritative and not to be challenged. “Let’s play a game or something. Take our minds off it for a bit.”
“Play a game? What am I, five?”
“Don’t be a spoil sport, it might be fun. You remember that right, fun? It’s not illegal. Yet.”
“Hilarious.” Plan rolled his eyes but Mean’s dejected face quickly got the better of him. There couldn’t be any harm, he supposed.
“Alright, alright, fine! What d’you wanna play?”
*
The vodka forfeits to Truth or Dare had not been his idea. Or had they? He couldn’t remember now. All Plan knew was that he was tipsy, not quite hammered but definitely not sober. That was Mean’s fault for asking so many questions he hadn’t wanted to answer. Not that he was mad about it, he felt better than he had done in days and his frequent smiles were actually meeting his eyes.
“I bet you're secretly loving this aren’t you!” Mean’s toes playfully nudged his shoulder from the other side of the sofa. “If we were on set today, you’d be wearing a red apron!”
“Oh, had the date banked to memory did we? You’re a sick man d’you know that.”
“Not in order to lust after you don’t worry! Everyone was just looking forward to watching you squirm.” Mean took another sly gulp of liquid poison.
“What are you talking about everyone?!”
“Well there’s me, New, Perth, Mark, Title, Earth, Gun and Pond for starters,” Mean counted each of their friends on his fingers, “even Saint wanted to hear the lowdown once we were finished shooting.”
“Oh my god,” Plan’s already alcohol flushed cheeks grew even hotter, “I swear to god, I’m never going to film that scene. P’New can rewrite it for all I care, it’s not happening.”
Mean chuckled happily, relishing his discomfort as he crunched on an ice cube.
“I don’t know why you get so shy about it, it’s only acting!”
“Yeah, but it’s still me! And you’re still you! It’s like the last time, with all those kiss scenes!”
“Excuse me, what about them?”
“Everyone tried to say I was a bad kisser!”
“I thought you did fine,” Mean grinned into his glass.
“What?” Plan probed, sitting forward. The younger only shook his head. “No come on, what? Tell me!”
“Well you were a little, I don’t know…uptight?”
“Of course I was, it’s not easy making out with your best friend you know!”
“Lies.”
“Sorry?”
“It wasn’t that. You got into it, just a little, I could tell.” Mean nibbled on his lower lip, clearly reminiscing. “Those eyes.”
“Shut up!” Plan whined, leaning forward to nudge Mean’s glass into his teeth.
“Hey!” Mean wiped the vodka from his mouth, “that hurt!”
“Don’t make fun of me then.”
“I wasn’t, I was just saying.”
“Well don’t, kissing anyone is nice, especially once my eyes were shut and I could pretend it wasn’t you!”
“Ouch.” Mean feigned a wounded heart, palm held against his chest.
“You know what I mean.”
“Next time try and look like you're enjoying it whilst it’s happening then.”
“Enjoying it is an overstatement. I did my best.”
“You need more practice.” Mean winked.
Plan knew that Mean was well aware he had always been single. Though occasionally horny as hell just like everyone else, life so far had never presented him with an opportunity to have those urges satisfied by hands that weren’t his. Kissing Mean on camera had taken coercion from P’New and many, many months of it.
“Maybe.” Plan shrugged, staring into his empty glass.
He could feel Mean’s curious eyes burning into him. Unsure of what to say or do, he leant back and pretended to resume watching the first half of The Order of the Phoenix. Mean took another sip of his drink before he spoke again.
“Want me to teach you?”
“Huh?” Plan lolled his head in Mean’s direction, “teach me what?”
“How to kiss.” Mean said simply.
Plan had no vodka left but he managed to choke on his own spit anyway.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Only a little. Come on, Phi. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
Plan shuffled back as Mean shimmied closer.
“There’s a few things you need to know,” Mean started, “firstly, be able to take a hint, follow how the other person feels. Second, don’t use too much tongue, no one is into that.”
Plan listened intently, crucially aware of the younger boy’s warmth as he edged nearer, his body pressing him against the arm of the sofa.
“Thirdly, try and relax. I remember how tense you were, the less you overthink the better it will be.”
“Nah,” Plan laughed nervously, “nah you’re fucking with me.”
His face was so close, breath tickling every time he exhaled.
Mean shook his head earnestly. “I’m not. Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“To learn to kiss,” the younger whispered.
“Mean, I -”
Plan’s shaky voice stopped short when Mean leaned in. Their lips pressed gently, devoid of any pressure or urgency. The elder stayed completely still, heart refusing to beat even when Mean pulled away a few inches to look at him.
“Weird?” Mean asked hesitantly.
Plan stared at him. His dark eyes, high cheekbones and full mouth. He really was very handsome. Perhaps it was the alcohol clouding his judgement, but Plan’s world suddenly felt upside down for completely different reasons.
“Weird,” he nodded.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Plan’s eyes flickered down to Mean’s lips only for a second but it didn't go unnoticed. The younger tilted his head slightly all the same, waited for a spoken answer but Plan couldn’t find his voice. Instead, he gave a tiny shake of his head.
Mean’s lips were back against his in a beat of his malfunctioning heart. One of Mean’s hands came up just under his right ear, framing his jawline. Plan found some control over his muscles and began to tentatively reciprocate, goosebumps flaring across his skin when Mean opened his mouth slightly as if trying to taste. He tried to remember what the younger had told him but his brain felt starved of oxygen. Reluctantly, Plan broke the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” Mean murmured, eyes concerned.
“I - I can’t breathe.”
The boy’s smile was one of fondness, fingernails ghosting lightly down Plan’s neck.
“I should have said,” he murmured, “breathe through your nose.”
The elder put his advice to the test the next time their mouths met. A mysterious and unfamiliar heat began to grow deep in his gut when Mean’s open-mouthed kisses became more demanding. Plan allowed his lips to part, Mean's almost immediately moulding between them. He drew a sharp intake of breath when their tongues touched, stifling a moan of approval when he recognised the familiarity lingering on Mean’s taste buds as vodka.
Mean kissed and kissed and kissed him, Plan feeling more intoxicated with each one. He followed Mean’s more experienced lead, sinking down against the sofa when the younger shifted to press his weight more firmly against him. Without breaking them apart, Mean took both of Plan’s hands in his own and placed them around his neck.
“Touch,” the request was uttered against his lips.
Remembering the cues he’d once been given on set, Plan ran a hand through Mean’s hair and flexed his fingers at the nape of his neck. Feeling him shiver, the reaction flooded heat straight between Plan’s legs.
“Stop,” he croaked, voice hoarse. Insistent kisses continued to press against his swollen lips so Plan pushed him away with more force. “Mean, I’m serious. Stop it.”
“Why,” Mean’s glazed eyes slowly began to focus on him, “what’s up?”
“I just want you to stop.”
“Did I do something wrong?” worry lines furrowed their way along the younger’s brow.
“We’ve had a lot to drink.”
“Does it not feel good?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Plan tried, unable to explain that he wanted to get out of dangerous territory, the boundaries of their friendship having already been pushed far enough. “I just think we should call it a night.”
The elder could see the confusion in Mean’s eyes when he looked at him. He didn't object, removing his hands from Plan’s shoulders and backing off to give him space.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, if I crossed a line.”
“Don’t be sorry man, it’s cool. We’re cool. It was just a kiss, like you said, it’s not like we haven’t done it before. Blame it on the booze, yeah?”
Plan didn't like the painful look of rejection that echoed across Mean’s sharp features before he masked it, gathering his composure and nodding through pursed lips.
“I’m gonna go to bed now,” he rambled, getting up from the sofa quickly. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Can’t exactly go anywhere can I?” Mean replied. “Sleep well, try not to think too much.”
That was a battle Plan knew he’d already lost. The world was on the brink of collapse and as if that wasn’t enough he now had to live with the fact that kissing his male best friend, brother and co-star was enough to make him hard.
“I’ll try,” he walked hurriedly towards the safety of his room.
“Oh and Phi?” Mean called.
“Yeah?”
“I’d say a B+ this time.”
“Fuck you.” Plan laughed as casually as he could, cheeks burning strawberry red.
Closing the door and falling face first into soft mattress, Plan surrendered to the knowledge that he’d never be leaving his bedroom again.
Isolation, he feared, had just got a whole lot tougher.