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“Oh shit...”
“What?” Orange was cuddled up to Chuck, a little drunk and a little high and happily watching a movie about fast cars and furious hunks.
Chuck paid attention for as long as he could, but he was too drunk to really follow, the action just moved too fast and he couldn’t keep track of which hunks were in which cars. So he took out his phone to scroll through Twitter, maybe argue with some marks in his replies, a favorite drunken pastime of his while Orange was occupied. But as soon as he had opened his Twitter feed, his heart dropped. “We missed Valentine’s Day.”
“Valentine’s Day?” Orange looked up at him as he said it, smoke from a pen hit Chuck hadn’t seen him take blowing in his face. Asshole, he always did that. Like it was cute.
It was cute, in that playfully rude way Orange liked to flirt with him. It was even cuter that he thought it was cute. Everything about him was cute as hell. But that was beside the point.
“It’s the 14th,” Chuck said. “For like, 8 more minutes.”
“Oh.” Orange said, barely trying to sound like he cared about the romantic holiday while some explosion happened on screen, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“We should’ve done something.” Chuck said, but he really meant “I should’ve done something.” Orange deserved something a little more special than this, watching a dumb car movie he’s seen a thousand times. Chuck should’ve taken him somewhere nice, they’ve got the money now. They were close, after all these years, and getting closer to putting a name to what they had between them. Chuck was the asshole dragging his feet when Orange implied he might have wanted more, he just wasn’t ready. He hadn’t even thought about the holiday all month while it approached, but now that he was being bombarded by happy couples digitally professing their love for each other, he felt like he was doing Orange so dirty. It was another year without either of them having a Valentine, another year of Chuck being such a let down. There they were, cuddled up like boyfriends, letting another Valentine’s Day go by. They had kissed on New Years, and Chuck might have made a resolution then, but he hadn’t changed a goddamn thing.
“We are doing something.” Orange nuzzled affectionately into Chuck’s neck, as if he was trying to drive home that he’s content to watch his lame action movie and get high just like it was any other night.
But Chuck was quick to spiral on shit like this, shit like him not doing enough for Orange. Orange deserved a real boyfriend after all these years, someone more confident and capable than Chuck, like the hunks blowing shit up in that corny movie Orange loved so much. “We do this every night,” Chuck bitched, feeling like a shithead for killing the mood but unable to stop himself. “You don’t care about like, doing romantic Valentine’s Day shit?”
“We never do.” Orange said it so flippantly. Like he really didn’t expect better.
“That’s my point, we should. I should’ve done something for you.” It was about the closest Chuck had ever come to acknowledging shit was real between them. Real couples do shit on February 14th. Hell, it would’ve been the perfect day to say it already, say what he really felt and make this shit real. It was only the second month, but Chuck felt like he’d already let another whole year slip him by.
Orange shifted away from him, feeling around in the dark for the remote, so Chuck knew shit was about to get serious and already regretted killing Orange’s vibe. He knew Orange cared about him, but he figured the Rock doing his badass cinematic thing would take priority. But Dwayne was paused, and Orange was looking at Chuck like… well, like the Rock in all his masculine sex appeal wasn’t right there on the screen.
Chuck braced for some assurance he knew he wouldn’t believe, mentally preparing himself to act convinced that it was all fine so Orange could go back to his movie and Chuck could freak out in peace about being a bad… whatever he is to Orange.
But Orange wasn’t giving him that soft sympathetic look he expected. And as he climbed into Chuck’s lap, he definitely didn’t seem in the mood to engage in Chuck’s melodramatic bullshit.
“If you care that much, we’ve got eight minutes left.” Orange said with a smirk, clearly in a different mindset than Chuck as he straddled him. He looked so pretty in the dim light of the TV, Chuck quickly forgot he was halfway to a breakdown.
A digital clock behind Orange and below the Rock’s stoic gaze displayed the time. “Seven,” Chuck corrected, and Orange’s mouth was on his as soon as the word was out of it. Hot and sloppy and needy and open. Usually Chuck was the one rushing shit, but Orange was grinding down on him and slipping Chuck tongue even though he probably tasted like the shitty bourbon he’d just been drinking, and Chuck was trying to keep up but in the back of his mind he wished he’d been drinking something better, so he’d taste better for Orange, because he did have a really nice bottle somewhere but opted for the cheaper stuff because he was the only one really drinking. Orange had a few swigs earlier, but he was mostly relying on his pen to get his inebriation for the night, and Chuck felt lame for opting for bourbon but weed just made him sad and quiet, as opposed to bourbon which made him sad and loud…
He was thinking too much, way too much thought about absolutely nothing, considering the good thing he had in front of him... on top of him. He tried to catch up, lean into the heat of Orange’s mouth and the friction that had him fully hard by the time he realized he was getting hard. He was whining under Orange, pushing up against him on instinct even though it was already too much. It was sort of embarrassing, how fast Orange had gotten him worked up before he’d even noticed.
This was maybe a downside of their different choices of substances. They weren’t quite on the same page here. And Chuck was internally lamenting about how fucked up it was that they weren’t on the same page, while Orange was happily grinding away in his lap, moaning and drawing the moans from Chuck’s mouth while his head spiraled elsewhere. It wasn’t right, Chuck got stuck thinking. It wasn’t what Orange deserved. Chuck’s mind should be on him. Not the clock or the Rock or the happy couples in his Twitter feed that made Chuck feel like a piece of shit.
“Take me to bed, we’ve got…” Orange looked behind him, and Chuck worried for a stupid ass moment that Dwayne would catch his eye while he checked the time. “Five minutes.” Orange finished the thought and looked back to Chuck, somehow choosing him over the fuckin Rock twice in two minutes.
It was a stupid choice, Chuck thought, but the way Orange said it made Chuck feel like he could maybe make up for how slow he was, how slow he’d been for all these years. Sure, he was probably a decade late, but they had five minutes. Chuck carefully got to his feet, picking Orange up. It was usually easy, hauling around that little blond twink, but he was drunk and Orange was limp in his arms. Way too trusting when he shouldn’t be, that Chuck’s grip on his cute little ass would be enough to support him. His arms were wrapped loose around Chuck’s neck, and he pressed a soft lazy kiss to Chuck’s jaw while he carried him.
He somehow made it to the bedroom they shared. It was technically Chuck’s, but over time it just… became theirs. Slowly, every goddamn thing was slow with them and Chuck hated that, but slowly they’d acclimated to sharing it. At first it was just on the rare occasion when they fucked and Orange was too tired and lazy for Chuck to kick him out, passing out there before either of them could decide he shouldn’t. Then that got more and more common until eventually, they were both just used to him sleeping there. Fucking stopped being a prerequisite for Orange to sleep there. Neither of them talked about it, but Chuck thought about it constantly since it developed. His bed just became theirs. Sometimes Orange would be there, asleep on his usual side of the bed by the time Chuck stopped playing his stupid video games for the night and joined him.
It was their bed, now. Chuck couldn’t remember how long it’d been that way, he just felt that guilt in the back of his mind that it’d probably been too long, they were too damn far along for Chuck to still be a pussy about calling their relationship what it was.
And he was still a pussy, but he had a few minutes left of Valentine’s Day and Orange wanted him now. Orange wanted him bad enough to pause Fast 5, his favorite Fast movie. If that wasn’t real, Chuck didn’t know what was.
Way too much thought, way too much running through Chuck’s head between the door and the bed. He tried to shake it from his head as he dropped Orange down on the bed, coming down on top of him. He couldn’t make up for how slow he’s been, but he could move shit along now.
Orange was letting him set the pace, but he tried to match those heated kisses from before, speeding to catch up with Orange like a car chase. Trying not to think about all the shit that always slowed him down.
Orange seemed happy. He was high and getting kissed so of course he was happy. But Chuck knew shit was a little deeper than that, that Orange’s eager moans and fingers through Chuck’s hair and the way he pushed his hips up to Chuck’s came from a desire for something more than sex. Orange wanted him, pulling him close and resisting Chuck moving away, holding onto his shirt for a moment before he remembered how sex works and let Chuck up to tear their clothes off.
He undressed Orange first, shirt gone, then pants gone, then boxer briefs gone, after a brief pause to grab Orange’s erection through them because he had to get a hand on him and it couldn’t wait, he had to take a moment and make him obscenely moan “oh, fuck, Chuck,” before he kept moving shit along. Chuck’s old tee shirt and ugly basketball shorts and boxers were gone just as fast.
Chuck didn’t know the time, but it felt like he had to rush. Had to make Orange come by midnight or it’d be another fucking stupid Valentine’s Day where he didn’t do a goddamn thing for the man he was in love with, because he was always too fucking slow.
Orange was fast though. Fast to get worked up, at least. Chuck grabbed both of their dicks in his hand and Orange was already leaking precum, already moaning like he was getting railed but it was just a hand on his dick, stroking smooth and as fast as he could work the two of them. Chuck wouldn’t fuck him tonight, he was too heated, and it felt like they didn’t have time. Such a stupid fucking nonexistent deadline, but Orange didn’t complain about Chuck quickly jacking them together and kissing him, messy and frantic but it was a goddamn necessity.
Orange was groaning around Chuck’s tongue in his mouth, and the way he melted under him drove Chuck fucking insane. He was frantically fucking into his own fist, rutting his dick up against Orange’s and working them both with his hand until he got too fucking into it and had to pull back, just watch Orange squirm under him, barely moving enough to keep pace with Chuck’s hips, dripping wetness onto his own stomach and blushing redder than hell under him. It was insane how fast Orange came undone like this, flushed down to his chest and incoherently letting lose a string of profanities interspersed with Chuck’s name.
He was fucking perfect. Beautiful. His impossibly hot body squirmed under Chuck and his pretty blond hair was a mess.
“Fuck, Orange” Chuck shifted, dick taking the lead down towards Orange’s ass and leaving his dumbass brain in the dust, not even knowing what he was doing until he felt it, a hand grabbing Orange’s thigh and rolling him up so Chuck could grind up on a hole he’s fucked plenty of times, but didn’t have the time to tonight. He figured it was 11:59. Orange gasped as Chuck gripped his dick, stroking as fast as he moved his hips against him. “You gonna cum for me baby?” He asked, as if Orange wasn’t obviously on the brink under him, eyes closed and mouth agape and high pitched moans coming out of his mouth while Chuck worked him almost too fast and his fingers gripped the sheets so hard he could’ve ripped them.
“Yeah,” Orange groaned, it was all he said and it was strained like he was barely able to get the word out. He made good on that word moments later, shooting off in Chuck’s hand and leaving stripes of cum over his crazy beautiful abs. It can’t have been that good, with how rushed and messy they were, Chuck fucking against his ass still without ever putting it in. He should’ve slowed down, worked Orange open and fucked him right. But Orange seemed happy enough, moaning under him and cumming all over himself. Chuck finished soon after, his brain catching up with him as he shot off on Orange’s dick and stomach, and he immediately regretted all that haste that led them there. Seven minutes? What a fucking joke. Orange was still moaning as Chuck gently stroked him through the aftershocks, suddenly having the sense to take his time.
“I owe you a Valentine’s Day, baby.”
Orange laughed, as if Chuck was being ridiculous, still catching his breath. “This wasn’t it?”
“Something better.” Chuck promised him, letting go and reaching for the tissue box they kept beside the bed, because they rarely made it to the shower like they should and he knew they wouldn’t tonight. “I’ll take better care of you next time.”
“You know this was good, right?” Orange asked while Chuck cleaned him off.
“Not good enough.” Chuck wasn’t really thinking, he was just speaking. Or maybe he was thinking too much, way too far ahead. “I’ll do better next year. Breakfast in bed, dinner at a fancy restaurant, fucking you as good as you deserve. All that shit, I’ll make you my Valentine.”
That meant nothing. It meant everything. Everything he really meant to say but couldn’t, not in the present tense anyway. He tossed the crumpled ball of tissues, which landed near the garbage can in the corner. He should move that thing closer, probably.
“That sounds nice.” Orange replied while Chuck settled into bed beside him.
It was probably past midnight, Chuck didn’t know. They left their phones downstairs, there weren’t any clocks in the room they shared, but they’d probably missed the arbitrary deadline on this bullshit holiday.
It didn’t matter though. Chuck held Orange, probably a little too tight to his chest, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft kiss into fluffy messy blond hair and recklessly muttering those three scary romantic words under his breath, even though he knew he shouldn’t say them, not like this, not in a moment this unromantic, on a Valentine’s Day this lame. He was a lame guy, and Orange deserved a better Valentine and a better love confession, but as he drifted off in Chuck’s arms he decked him with acknowledgement of what he’d just said.
“I love you too.” He said, soft and sleepy and content in Chuck’s arms.
And even though Chuck was drunk and emotional and stupid, he knew better than to ruin that moment. He just let himself fall asleep with Orange in his arms, without uttering another dumbass word out of his stupid goddamn mouth.