Chapter Text
"It's... silly, honestly. I don't want to waste your time with-"
Noah's uncharacteristically high-pitched, antsy, rushed words die in his throat when he looks up and catches the expression on Finn's face. His mouth goes dry instantly, his lips parted breathlessly, and a pit forms in his belly. He doesn't need to hear the words to know exactly what Finn's thinking.
But more than anything, underneath the embarrassment and slight hint of fear, Noah's heart is racing and his blood is pumping so hotly in his veins that it's impossible to deny how fucking turned on he is by that damn addictive, unreadable, quietly enraged expression on Finn's face.
Finn's eyes have always been a darker shade of brown, but right now, they're practically black, his equally dark, curly bangs falling into his eyes, his lips curled up at the corners, akin to a silent snarl. His pale, freckled cheekbones are sharp, so sharp, and Noah thinks that cutting himself on them over and over would feel like a religious experience.
Noah swallows, once, twice, thrice, yet Finn's expression stays exactly the same. Noah shakes his head, as if to ground himself, and clears his throat, looking out the window blearily, only just realizing that his own vision is blurred with tears. Tears? When on earth did he start crying?
Noah knows that he should turn back, should look at Finn, should show respect, even if it's not directly asked for. He knows he should because he knows how exactly how Finn gets. But a small, growing part of him wants something else, anticipates it like his next breath. So when it happens, when Finn finally reaches out to grip Noah's jaw and turn his face back to him, Noah lets out a shuddering gasp, blinking rapidly which causes his tears to spill down his cheeks and cling to his long lashes. Finn doesn't look the least bit shocked, nor apologetic, and it makes Noah's skin tingle in the best and worst way possible.
"Don't make me say it," Finn says quietly, through barely gritted teeth. "Don't make me punish you for being so hard on yourself," goes unspoken between them, ringing loudly in Noah's skull.
Noah nods, as much as his neck allows, given the vice-like grip on his face, and his green eyes glassy and wide, unblinking. His words tumble out of him in a tangled, garbled mess, all snot and tears and saliva and it's ugly and gross but his pride and dignity seem to have left him. He knows he shouldn't talk like this, shouldn't trigger Finn this way. But fuck, Noah can't imagine doing anything else. His heart is in his throat and he's at his wits end. Getting this heavy weight off his chest while also getting Finn to fuck his shit up is both a win-win and a lose-lose, and nothing even matters, anyways.
"I'm sorry. I just... I can't help but feel like my problems don't really count as problems. I mean, I should be fucking grateful that at least men wanna fuck me, right? What even was I thinking, getting into the industry? Oh right, nothing at all, because my frontal lobe hadn't even begun to develop when I was thrust into the spotlight and now it's too late to back out. Like, honestly, it's pathetic how needy and desperate I am to be loved. To be seen. To be wanted. Not for my body, or my face, or my name, or because I'm that famous dude who played the gay and traumatized kid on that mainstream supernatural show. But apparently I'm asking for too much! Because how do I have the audacity to even think for myself, to want something more than people are willing to give me? I'm just a selfish piece of shit, right?"
Noah reaches up, his fingers curling around Finn's wrist, the one that's still clutching his jaw, and shakes it, like he's desperate to coax a reaction from him, no matter how violent or scary.
The thing is, Finn sees right through his act. He knows that Noah's words are true, he can see it in those fucking hypnotic green eyes.
But Finn is not a fool, not in that sense. Those eyes may get others to fall at Noah's feet and eat out of his palm, but not Finn. At least not anymore. At least that's what Finn tells himself.
In the past, Finn would have folded like a lawn chair. But now, he doesn't. In the past, he would practically drown in those emerald orbs and be thankful for it, but now, he doesn't. In the past, he would given anything to be Noah's. But now, he won't. Because those hauntingly green eyes and every other part of Noah belongs to him, not the other way around. And that's just how it is, no questions asked, no clarifications needed.
So Finn knows when Noah is trying to get a rise out of him. It's almost laughable how predictable Noah is, but Finn doesn't laugh, doesn't so much as crack a smile. Finn could choose to let go of Noah and walk away and be completely fine, completely unbothered, leaving Noah high-strung and on the precipice of something electric, something akin to self-sabotage.
But Finn's not out of patience, not yet. He's feeling generous tonight, indulgent even. He knows exactly what Noah wants, and he knows exactly how to dangle it over his head, just slightly out of reach.
"Choose one. Would you rather I walk out this fuckass hotel room and leave you here to cry yourself to sleep, or would your rather I sit here and listen your problems like I'm one of your ditsy female friends from UPenn?" Finn spits out, careful, controlled, always so in control that it makes Noah's head spin.
It's actually poetic how they've built this dynamic between them brick by brick without even needing to talk about it, knowing the rules and guidelines and limits without needing to ask. And it makes Noah's head spin even more.
"Neither," Noah whispers shakily, his lips curling up at the corner, like he can't resist being a fucking menace. A brat, he prefers to be called.
Finn raises one eyebrow, his face devoid of humor, always one step ahead, just the way Noah likes and hates, all at once. "Neither?" he repeats, his voice soft and chilled, a slight twitch in his left eye. His fingers dig in harder into Noah's jaw, reddening the pale skin there, and it takes every cell in Noah's boneless body to not moan out loud like he's in heat. "I don't recall "neither" being one of the options."
Noah just shrugs, a painfully obvious attempt at nonchalance, and Finn almost breaks, almost laughs at the gesture, but he reels himself back in fast enough, not wanting to shatter the atmosphere, this facade they've both created. He wants to bask in it a little longer, wants to be in control for a little longer, wants to trick himself into thinking that the boy in front of him doesn't flip his world on its axis, doesn't make him feel off kilter in the most delicious, destructive way possible.
"Words. Use your words, Noah. You're a big boy, aren't you?" Finn whispers heatedly, his fingers pulling back just enough to lightly slap Noah's cheek a couple of times.
Noah pouts like the brat he is, tear tracks drying on his cheeks and clearly visible due to the moonlight streaming in from the window, the room otherwise shrouded in darkness. His lips are pink, bitten, full and shiny. And those eyes. Those fucking green eyes that could both start and end wars. Finn hates them. "Adonis," Finn's brain unhelpfully supplies, and he hopes to the fucking heavens that he didn't say that out loud.
"Neither," Noah affirms huskily, standing his ground. "I don't want you to leave, and I don't want you to be my unpaid therapist. You know exactly what I want."
Finn does, of course he does. How on earth could he not? They've known each other for over a decade, have literally witnessed every awkward growing pain, every mistake, every voice crack, every stumble, every crash and every burn.
Which is why Finn knows that Noah isn't referring to just one thing. He knows. He doesn't need to be told that Noah wants to be seen and loved, he doesn't need to be told that Noah wants to be someone's priority, wants to be actively chosen, not discarded and left to crumble after being used. "Pretty privilege, what a fucking first world problem," Finn's brain unhelpfully supplies again, all mocking and drenched in misplaced jealousy and false superiority, because he's a bit of a dick, and mean and nasty like that. He cares, obviously, he cares about Noah more than is considered a healthy amount, but Finn never claimed to be a saint.
And that's okay, because Noah lets him be whatever he wants to be. Never gets tired of it, never complains. He lets Finn be pretentious and quirky and different, lets him be a cringe-fail, try-hard bastard. Lets him think he's so much better than everyone else. Lets him think that Finn is the one in control, that Finn could choose anyone else and replace Noah in a heartbeat.
Which is obviously a lie. Finn would rather eat shards of glass than let Noah walk away from him, than let Noah continue to give his divine body and soul to worthless nobodies who shouldn't even be allowed to breathe in his vicinity. Finn would also rather eat shards of glass than admit those things out loud, because what would he be without his walls up, without his soul heavily guarded? He doesn't allow his thoughts to stray that far.
Which brings Finn back to the other things that Noah wants. He doesn't want nice, or sweet, or gentle. He wants to be loved, sure, but that doesn't mean he wants to be treated like porcelain. He wants to be wrecked, to be shattered, to be roughed up and broken in such a way that Finn can put the pieces back together and hold him like nothing ever happened. Because he will never be able to let go and be fully vulnerable and open and trusting with anyone else.
They're two sides of the same fucked-up coin, after all.
Finn swallows roughly, his eye twitching again. "I know what you want. But what pisses me off more than anything else is you thinking that you're going to get any of that outside this room. You... you can't possibly entertain that thought. Why would you? No one can understand how broken you are, Noah. Not like I do."
Noah grimaces, recoiling like he's been slapped. His heart continues to thud dully in his chest, his breathing ragged, and he yanks Finn's hand away from his jaw, pushing him by the chest. He's not even sure what they're doing any more, if this is still a part of their messed-up roleplay, just a stupid fantasy that feels more like self-harm than anything else.
"You sound far too proud and arrogant, which is rich coming from a coward who can't show his real identity to the world. I'm surprised you haven't suffocated yourself to death from how long you've been hiding in the closet," Noah snaps, his words tumbling out of him, every word designed to sting. It does sting, but it also doesn't, because it's not the first time Finn's been on the receiving end of one of Noah's tantrums.
Finn isn't affected, not really, but lets Noah trigger him anyways. He lunges forward on the bed they're sitting on, grabbing both of Noah's wrists in his large hand effortlessly and pinning them above Noah's head, his body hovering on top of him, reveling in the way Noah's eyes go wide with fear and lust in equal measure, his brown bangs flopping over his forehead.
Those fucking green eyes will one day be the death of him, Finn is sure of it. Today, however, is not that day.
"You're getting too brave," he whispers, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. His face dips down, cold lips lingering against Noah's cheek, his brown eyes angling up to watch Noah's expression.
"You like it when I talk back," Noah whispers back, gulping visibly, his eyes looking down at him, seemingly frozen in place.
Finn doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. Sometimes he wonders why they even talk when they already know every last thing there is to know about each other.
So he tilts his head down, lips dragging over Noah's skin, slowly slotting them over Noah's lips. Noah keens and whines, quickly melting into it, the tension leaving his body and his eyelids fluttering shut. He feels like he could very easily melt into a puddle right here on this shitty hotel bed. His wrists jerk against Finn's unyielding grip, and his lips part almost instantly, allowing Finn's tongue to slip inside without needing to ask for permission.
Finn keeps his eyes open, trained up to watch Noah, because he's a bit psychotic like that. He can't help himself, because closing his eyes would mean A) Not getting to look at the closest thing to perfection there is on this planet, and B) Losing control of the situation. Because it's always been about Noah, Noah's pleasure, Noah's pain, Noah's everything. Whatever pleasure Finn gets is secondary, because his idea of pleasure is being in the one in control, and never about his own release. That's how it has always been and always will be.
Finn doesn't even need to think too much, his body moving of its own accord. He slides up one boney knee and parts Noah's thighs, acutely aware that the two of them are still fully dressed. His knee drags itself up, pressing carefully, slowly, calculated. Just enough for Noah's hips to spasm erratically and whine Finn's name into his mouth like the most sinful prayer he's ever heard. Finn smiles against his lips, not a smirk this time but a genuine one, one he would never let Noah willingly see. He presses Noah's wrists into the pillow more firmly, his free hand lazily slipping under Noah's shirt, cold, long fingers lightly dancing over the warm expanse of soft skin over his stomach.
"Show me those pretty eyes, baby," Finn coaxes, lips catching against Noah's soft ones. His fingers press down on Noah's lower abdomen, right above the waist line of his trousers, at the same time that Finn digs his knee a little more roughly between Noah's legs.
Noah's eyes fly open, whether out of reflex or because of Finn's command, neither of them are quite sure, but it's not of relevance. He whimpers, tears of white-hot pleasure searing his eyes, forcing himself to keep them open.
Finn lied. Maybe today will be the day those eyes kill him, after all.
"You don't even know how pretty you look like this," Finn murmurs against his lips, gently brushing their noses together, his breath warm and his hands cold. Noah is trembling so hard, tears catching in the moonlight like crystals, an entire emerald city reflecting in his irises. "I mean, you always look pretty, but even an 8K camera can't capture what I'm seeing right now."
Noah laughs wetly, a bubbling sound that Finn can feel reverberating in both their chests, warm and genuine in a way that makes Finn's heart ache. "Always the charmer. You really do know how to express your emotions through your nerdy analogies."
Finn narrows his eyes playfully, letting go of Noah's wrists to pinch his cheek scoldingly, his other hand continuing to press down on Noah's lower abdomen while his knee presses itself harder, inch by inch.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Finn declares like the insufferable asshole he is, barely concealing how fucking happy and foolish he feels.
Noah shakes his head, smiling softly, his freed hands reaching up to cup Finn's cheeks, tilting his face up to kiss him again. Noah's fingers are warm, so warm against those sharp, cold cheekbones. Finn tenses up for half a second before he breathes out heavily through his nose. He wraps the hand, that he was previously using to hold Noah's wrists, around his throat, pressing ever so slightly. Their joint breathing becomes more ragged by the second, saliva dripping down their chins, their kisses turning more and more sloppy and desperate.
Noah starts to cough, choking and spluttering into Finn's mouth, breathing shallowly and gasping for air as Finn's fingers press down intermittently like he's done countless times before. Trained, controlled, never too much, never too little, just enough to make Noah see stars and for his lungs to work overtime.
Noah feels like he's drowning again, and it takes him over a minute to realize that Finn's knee has stopped moving. He whines, opening his eyes wide, tapping his fingers rapidly against Finn's cheek to get him to stop choking him.
Finn moves his hand away. Instantly. He may be an asshole, but he's not that demonic. Well, kind of, but not really.
"Why'd you stop?" Noah rasps, clearing his throat roughly, finger-shaped bruises already beginning to form on the pale skin of his neck.
Finn lifts himself up a bit, cocking an eyebrow, his eyes trained on the blooming bruises. "What do you mean? You're the one who told me to stop choking you."
"Oh, fuck you. You know exactly what I meant, don't act stupid-"
Before he can even finish his sentence, Finn's eyes narrow again, but there's no playfulness this time. Finn's knee jerks up almost violently, pressing into Noah's bulge through his trousers.
"Is this what you meant, hm? Is this what you wanted?" He whispers, voice cold and eyes stormy as he looks down at Noah, sending bolts of shock and fear down Noah's spine. "You don't want me to stop, right? Isn't that what you said?"
Noah cries out, thrashing against the bed. Finn doesn't care that he's being too loud, doesn't care that the neighboring guests could hear how much of a whiny brat Noah is being.
Finn twists his knee purposefully, sharp and cutting, the pressure and pain mounting.
"Why the fuck are you so skinny?! Is your knee made of glass?!" Noah practically screams, howling in pain, his hands fisting into the collar of Finn's shirt.
Finn has the audacity to look surprised, look clueless. He purses his lips, tilting his head in mock-thought, all while his knee does ungodly things between Noah's legs. It would be funny how Noah is undoubtedly the stronger of the two, but forgets how to use his strength when it comes to Finn, just letting him do whatever he wants to Noah even if Noah complains.
Finn laughs, shaking his head, easing his knee up, much to Noah's relief.
"I thought you liked that I'm built like Slenderman," Finn murmurs, a sparkle in his eyes and his lips curled like he can't stop himself from smiling.
Sometimes Noah thinks that Finn's ability to switch from one mood to another in record time is going to send him into cardiac arrest. It's like whiplash, really, and Noah finds himself wondering what's real and what's not, even though he knows deep down that Finn would never truly hurt him, never in a way that Noah dislikes.
"I do," Noah admits softly, his cheeks and ears tinting pink, his eyes darting away and eyelashes fluttering.
Fucking hell, Finn wants to devour him whole.
He swoops back down, his hand cupping Noah's cheek and fingers carding into soft brown hair, their lips moving against each other in a dance as old as time. Noah's knuckles tighten in Finn's shirt collar, automatically angling his head so that Finn can kiss him even deeper. His legs fall open, and Finn alternates between pressing his knee just where Noah wants him and pulling away just when Noah's moans start to get a bit too breathless and incessant.
Finn drags his lips away, resting his forehead down on Noah's. He watches him, transfixed and utterly spellbound, his thumb absently caressing Noah's cheek, both to ground Noah to reality and also because he's self-indulgent like that. He doesn't need to put much thought into what his knee is doing, the careful control and restraint is as easy as breathing for him. His eyes glaze over, his lips pressed in a hard line, watching as Noah essentially fights for his life. Noah's lips are parted, tears of both over-stimulation and under-stimulation leaking out the corner of his eyes, yet he refuses to look away from Finn, refuses to blink.
"You're doing so well," Finn murmurs, his expression unchanging, the praise sinking deep into Noah's bones. "So, so well, so good for me. Aren't you, baby?"
Noah just nods, unable to speak through his whines and whimpers, his hips practically screaming at him to throw caution to the wind and just rut against Finn's knee like it's his last day on earth, shame and embarrassment be damned. But he doesn't, because he doesn't want to, not really. He just wants this. Wants whatever Finn will give him. Wants Finn, and nothing else.
Noah's heart stutters, something warm and heavy wrapping itself around his heart.
Finn was right. Noah is never going to get what he really wants with someone else. And Noah doesn't think he even wants anyone else. Not like he really has a say in the matter, because for all of Finn's aloofness and indifference, he somehow manages to never let Noah's attention stray to other guys for too long.
He can feel his heart splintering ever so slightly, soft sobs rumbling in his chest. Finn stops moving immediately, and somehow he can tell when Noah is crying from real pain and not from pained pleasure.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Finn asks, his voice achingly soft. He rolls off of Noah and lies down, scooping him in his arms and letting Noah bury his face into his chest. "Baby, are you hurt? Did I do something? Come on, talk to me, angel," he murmurs into Noah's hair, pressing kisses into it, rubbing his back while Noah cries.
Noah shakes his head quickly against Finn's chest, hiccupping and shuddering. "N-no, I'm just being an idiot. You're fine. I'm sorry."
Finn's eyebrows knit together in confusion, frowning. He leans back a bit, forcing Noah to look at him, not caring about how wrecked and disheveled Noah looks.
"Don't fucking call yourself that. You're not an idiot. You know that you don't have to overthink when you're with me," Finn says, his voice more sharp than he intends.
Noah just shakes his head again, his face scrunching up like he's in physical pain.
"I can't just turn off my brain, Finn," Noah cries. "I can't... not when I'm this close to you, which seems to be happening more and more often, like I can't stay away from you for too long. Not when I know that I'll never feel this way about anyone else. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, you have no idea. You're everything that I've ever wanted and I wouldn't change a damn thing about you, but I can't stand that you hide me away like I'm some dirty secret. Like I'm just a co-worker and a friend that you mess around with whenever you're bored. I'm sick of pretending that I'm not in love with you."
The room goes deathly silent. Noah splutters, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I- I didn't mean that. I think I'm just overwhelmed right now. I just-" he scoots away erratically and out of Finn's arms, sliding out of the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom.
Finn sits up quickly, grabbing Noah's arm and yanking him back on to the bed. Noah stumbles, letting out a surprised yelp.
"Let go of me," Noah screeches in between sobs, face tomato-red with embarrassment, his ears ringing with shame.
Finn doesn't comply, crushing Noah's face into his chest, tangling his fingers between strands of silky brown hair in a gesture that's as soothing as it's infuriating.
"Shh, stop fighting it. Stop fighting me, baby. It's okay. It's okay. You're safe. Shh. Come on. What did I say, hm? You don't need to overthink when you're with me. You don't need to think at all. Just feel, just breathe, don't fight it," Finn whispers into Noah's ear, nose brushing against the cartilage.
Noah shudders and trembles, head vibrating against Finn's chest, feeling sick to his stomach at the realization that he's actually feeling calmer, that Finn's words are working. They always fucking work. He'll never be free, will he?
Finn pulls away after a couple of minutes of whispering sweet nothings into Noah's ear. He doesn't let go, not fully, gently pushing Noah down to sit on the bed, while Finn drops to his knees on the floor in front of him, looking up at him with those dark brown puppy eyes. Noah flushes, wiping his nose against the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes red and breathing shallow. He's not used to looking down at Finn, he thinks to himself as Finn takes Noah's hands in his and rests them on Noah's lap. This position feels odd, foreign, like Noah is the one who is in control and Finn is kneeling down to serve him, care for him. It makes Noah feel a bit dizzy.
"Feeling better, angel?"
Noah stares at their clasped hands, doesn't reply.
Finn sighs softly, closing his eyes as if to brace himself before opening them again.
"Don't," Noah says before Finn can speak, finally looking at him, his words ragged and worn yet heavy with emotion. "Don't tell me things that I already know. I know, and I understand, okay? I know the situation you're in. I just feel so frustrated at times, and I let myself hope for things that I shouldn't. I'm sorry."
Finn shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing against Noah's knuckles gently.
"You don't have to be sorry. Ever. I fucking mean it, okay? I never, ever want you to hold back when you're with me. Life is crazy enough as it is, and all I've ever wanted was to be a safe space for you."
"You are..." Noah mumbles defensively.
"Well, no, since I'm clearly doing a shitty job of it. I'm selfish, Noah. You know it. You have to know it. I don't like sharing you, I never have. I don't like hearing you talk about the other men you hook up with. I don't like knowing that they'll never treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I don't like not being control of the situation, of you. I don't like being vulnerable. I don't like that I can't just chain you to my bed and keep you with me forever."
"Finn-"
"I don't like that I'm in love with you, too," Finn barrels on, his voice raw and his eyes earnest as he looks up at Noah, shaking both their hands in Noah's lap for emphasis.
Noah stares at him, his breath caught in his throat. "Don't... don't lie to me-"
"I'm not lying!"
"No, you're not thinking straight-"
"Neither of us are straight, Noah."
"I'm being serious!" Noah hisses, pulling his hands away and staring Finn down, his eyes wild and his teeth gritted. "Stop fucking playing with me, I swear to god. Just because I like being controlled sometimes doesn't mean you can get away with anything, all the time."
"I am being serious," Finn insists, his voice going soft, his fingers curling tightly and clutching Noah's thighs like his life depends on it, already missing the warmth of Noah's hands.
Noah looks away, eyes welling up with tears all over again. He angrily wipes them away, taking a couple of moments to compose himself.
"How much longer?" is all Noah asks finally, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Finn doesn't need to ask what Noah's talking about. "How much longer do we have to keep hiding?"
"So you believe me? You believe that I'm in love with you?" Finn asks instead, deflecting.
Noah shoots him a glare, then sighs, nodding his head, taking the bait.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I guess I always knew, deep down. I never allowed myself to believe that it could be real. Even though I knew that whatever we've got going on is a lot more complicated than just sex. I didn't think you realized it yourself, to be honest."
"I didn't want to admit it out loud, let alone to myself," Finn whispers, looking even more vulnerable than before, his knees digging into the carpeted floor.
Noah gives him a pained, closed-lipped smile. "Guess that massive ego of yours finally gave up," he whispers back. "How does it feel, losing control for once, not being able to rein in your feelings?"
"Awful," Finn says honestly, his voice hoarse and his smirk not quite reaching his eyes. "Terrible. 2/10, would not recommend."
A laugh rips out of Noah, blending with his tears in a watery mess. "At least it's not a zero," Noah says, his voice tinged with something warm and soft.
Finn stares up at him, silently watching. He's never been big on religion, always challenging the ideals and beliefs forced upon him when he was growing up. But right now, on his knees, looking up at the most beautiful man he will ever see in his life, Finn thinks a new religion should be made. He thinks that letting go of restraint isn't all that bad, at least not when it comes to Noah.
"I love you, so much," he breathes out, raw and open and quiet.
Noah's face falls ever so slightly, but he's still smiling, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
"Me too. Always. Would it be weird if I said this was far more anti-climactic than I ever thought possible?" he says, his lips curling up at the corners.
Finn shrugs, getting up off his knees and sitting next to Noah on the bed. Their knees bump and Finn's hands slip around Noah's waist, pulling him close, his chin hooking over his shoulder.
"What were you expecting, fireworks and champagne?" Finn's voice rumbles against Noah's back.
Noah rolls his eyes even though Finn can't see him, snuggling closer into the hug. "Shut up. I don't know. Just thought it would be a lot harder to digest. It's not. Not for me, at least."
"It is for me, but that's entirely because I'm a mentally unstable motherfucker with too many issues to count. It's got nothing to do with you," Finn murmurs into his shoulder, voice dry but Noah knows he's being honest. He's always been honest, he just has a fucked up way of going about it.
"I know. Thank you. For trusting me enough to let your guard down. I'm so proud of you," Noah whispers, squeezing Finn in his arms.
They decide to take a shower together before bed, after realizing how late it is. Obviously, it doesn't go as planned, with Finn being unable to keep his hands from wandering, leaving a trail of hickeys to "give the finger-print marks on Noah's neck some company", in his own words. ("I need to complete my handiwork, can't leave it unfinished," Finn had said in a muffled voice, with Noah's skin between his teeth, the warmth of the shower seeping into their bones. He's so painfully unfunny sometimes but it doesn't really matter when Noah's knees goes weak both literally and figuratively.) Barely a couple of minutes into the shower, Noah finds himself being hoisted off the floor and sprawled out on the bench, the scalding water fogging up the marble tiled walls. Finn suggests, with a deadpan expression, that they could try using the hotel's conditioner as lube, but Noah is too tired to decipher if he's joking or not. He scowls up at him with unimpressed eyes, ordering him to fetch the lube from his backpack, and Finn walks out the bathroom like a kicked puppy. Noah sighs, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes as the water beats down on him.
Noah can't hear Finn cussing while rummaging around for the bottle back in the room. The sounds of splashing water fill his senses instead, soothing and warm and persistent. He sighs heavily, slumping back, shoulders drooping as he relaxes in wait, letting time pass him by, letting his thoughts buzz together quietly.
"How much longer?" is his last thought as he falls asleep.
~~~
When Noah wakes up, he's still naked but fully dry, warm and tucked under the covers. It's already morning, and judging by how bright it looks outside, Noah must have slept in. He reaches for his phone blindly, checking the time and opening up Finn's text messages from 3 hours ago.
Sorry for leaving, didn't wanna wake you up. They preponed the audition by a couple of hours.
You don't need to check out at the reception, already taken care of, so leave whenever you want.
Noah sighs, irritation already bubbling in his chest.
Also, dress up tonight. 9 PM. I'll pick you up. Taking you to that new club downtown you've been talking about.
Just don't expect me to dance, okay? I wanna show you off, not expose my un-coordinated ass to the tabloids.
Noah's eyebrows furrow, heart thudding erratically in his chest.
Not much longer, baby. I love you.
Noah locks his phone, sitting up slowly. He sees the abandoned bottle of lube on the bedside table, placed next to his clothes from yesterday that have been neatly folded. He doesn't remember folding them, Finn had been too eager in getting them off him before their shower last night.
A small giggle bubbles out from his throat, his face turning red, trying but failing to contain his giddiness. He reaches for his clothes, eager to get home and rest, his mind racing at the thought of what the night will bring.
Either way, they'll face it. They'll get through it.
Together, like they've always done. Like it always will be.