He’s getting the impression that the ‘arrangement’ isn’t as one-dimensional as they planned. He’s not an idiot; he knows that in any relationship, communication is key. They’d been clear about their expectations at the beginning. Yet here they are, somehow muddy, Leo thinking they’re entering uncharted territory.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about the change. He certainly hadn’t meant for it to happen this way; he’d accepted Austin’s need for no attachment and backed away. Except somehow, Austin is moving closer and closer to the line between them. He gets the sense they’re almost toe-to-toe, so close to doing something drastic but still so far away.

Maybe he’s partly at fault. After all, he did initiate an encounter during work hours. Somehow, dragging their relationship into the light of day made it different. Changed it. He feels like confronting their feelings—even just the intimate ones—has made them closer. He’s starting to get the feeling that they are gravitating closer and closer to a revelation. I just hope it works.

Even Austin’s visit while he was sick was different. There was no obligation for him to show up and yet he had, with an armful of groceries and a patient attitude. It was the last thing Leo had expected and the first thing he’d ask for again. It was nothing like their encounters—it was slow, easy, and unhurried. There was no ulterior motive to muddle things. It was just a man trying to care for his sick friend. Leo spent the next day recuperating, thinking the whole time about Austin and his cans of soup. He wants to know how much further they can go, if they take it there. If they try.

By the time Friday rolls around, he’s thinking about what he can do to test the waters. He’s not about to run Austin off, acutely aware that if he comes on too strong, Austin will back away for good. He’s still waiting for Leo to be the aggressor, just one sign enough to convince him that he’s not worth it. So how do I make him feel comfortable with himself?

He gets into work, feeling a little odd coming in late, and runs into Rowan in the coffee lounge. The other man glances at him, shuffling through packages on the table.

“What are those?”

“Sandwiches. Dean finally gave up trying to buy us breakfast, thank God. At least you can’t go wrong with a sandwich.”

Leo laughs, shaking his head. He tries to rearrange the script and messenger bag in his hands, peering over the pile. Rowan glances at him, scrutinizing. Leo prepares himself—he gets the feeling he’s about to be hit with important news.

“We’re going to a club tonight. You in?”

It’s not what he expected. It usually isn’t, though. He frowns, caught off guard. The first thing he thinks about is Austin—he could call, or ask about Friday. He scratches his nose. Who am I kidding? I’ll call, if he doesn’t.

“A club?”

“Yeah, a club. You know. The things you go and dance and drink at. Or stand in corners at, if you’re boring like me. Not like the things you hit someone with.”

“I know what a club is,” Leo says, wrinkling his nose at Rowan. The man just tosses him a sandwich from the pile, cracking his soda can open with a small hiss.

“I love dancing,” Leo stresses, leaning across the lunch table. He can feel the conflict in his chest growing. On the one hand, he’s been with Austin almost every other day since they came to an ‘arrangement.’ They’ve been together more than not. On the other hand...well, that’s the point. Rowan slides Leo a can, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I guessed. Leo the drama queen likes dancing.”

“Who’s going?” Leo asks, ignoring the jibe.

“Everyone. Lina’s like a PTA mom; she already got half the other project team to swear they’d show up.”

“Cool. Um—”

“Austin’s going,” Rowan interrupts, straight-faced and unimpressed. The way he says it seems to say that he knows exactly what’s going on.

Leo catches himself smiling and bites half of his sandwich off, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. Rowan doesn’t buy it. Good, he thinks, even better. A chance for them to get together outside of work, but with friends. A chance for Leo to test the waters and see if Austin can be receptive to something more. Somehow, his sickness had unwittingly functioned as a catalyst. Now that they’ve had the chance to test the waters, he wants to go all in. Figure out just how far Austin can swim from the shore of their affair.

He’s been thinking about more like crazy. The possibility of having someone to go home to. The idea of taking care of each other. Being able to hold hands or go out without worrying that they’re getting too close. You can’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out, he tells himself. Austin was clear about his interest from the beginning. For all Leo knows, the man could backpedal too fast for Leo to follow. It could make their entire tentative friendship collapse, not to mention their fling. Still, Leo knows he has to take the chance to get the answer. A risk if he’s ever taken one, but he expects it to be worth it. Or worth something.

“Okay,” Leo finally agrees, nodding at Rowan. “What time?”

“We’re meeting up at ten. Josten’s, on the corner of Santa Rosa—you know the bar?”

“Yup. It’s not far from the club?”

“Just a short walk. Don’t wear your heels. If you need a ride after, we can split rides and fare.”

“Awesome,” Leo says, excitement already flooding his veins. He can just imagine it—the darkness, the strobing lights, the crush of people on the floor. He normally doesn’t like big crowds but dancing is different. Dance floors are perfect—just enough of a crowd to get lost and become anonymous, and the right amount of light to show off for the right people.

Or person.

He hums on his way back to the sound booth, already thinking about what he’s going to wear. He knows what he wants; all he has to do is work to get it. Just a little push, he tells himself. Not a shove. Just a nudge to get the ball rolling. He feels like that’s all they need.

He’ll come around, he thinks. Leo has proven himself as best he can, over and over, and now they’ve reached a crossroads. Now, they can either choose to start again or give up on everything they’ve built up until this point.

***

HE’S IN THE MIDDLE of getting dressed. There are a few things on his bed—he barely has enough clothes to last a week and none of them are exactly club material. Still, he knows it won’t matter once they get into the black building. He settles on black jeans, picking a black tee that’s so worn it looks grey against his pants, stretched to almost a size up. Comfortable, practical, and timeless.

His phone rings as he’s emptying the pockets of his jacket, preparing to slip a few bills and cards into it.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Getting ready?”

“Yeah. Wish I had more to wear—never thought I’d be going out like this again so soon.”

“Listen—do you want a ride? You can just stop by my place, and I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?” Leo pauses, slipping one arm through the jacket. He turns in a circle, looking for his shoes. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“Really. It’s not a problem. Just let me know when you get here.”

“You actually going to be there, this time?” Leo teases, smirking. He hears Austin snort on the other line.

“Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Waiting is the best part,” Leo smirks.

He can almost hear Austin rolling his eyes. They both hang up, and Leo gets the feeling their smiles are matching, even though he can’t see the other man. He starts making his way to the bus stop, phone charged and ready for a long night. Something rises in him at the thought of the dance floor, light and sound and movement married in an ecstatic mass.

He listens to music on the bus ride, already hyping himself up for what’s to come. By the time he gets to Austin’s, his leg is jumping nervously with pent-up energy.

“You look excited,” Austin says, raising an eyebrow as he pulls himself up from the steps.

“I am,” Leo says, grinning as he follows the man to his car. “I love clubs. I didn’t think I’d be back out this soon.”

“You said that before. What do you mean?”

“Clubbing requires money,” Leo reminds him, rubbing his fingers together. “Which I was not about to spend, before.”

“I’m sure you could’ve had someone buy your drinks,” Austin points out. He hedges around the idea, clearly not entirely happy about it. Leo bites down a smile, knowing it’ll only make Austin angry. One of these days, he’ll figure it out for himself.

“Maybe. It’s not worth it, though. I wouldn’t have had fun if I was worrying about keeping someone around the entire time.”

“Isn’t that true,” Austin murmurs, backing out of his parking spot.

Austin lets Leo hijack the radio, shaking his head at the beating pop tracks the man puts on. He adjusts the bass, letting it thump in his chest, and they make their way towards the bar that the others are waiting at. If he’d had a mind to get drunk, Leo thinks he would have joined them there sooner. That’s not his goal, though—at least not for tonight.

Tonight, his goal is dancing. Dancing and doing everything he can to nudge Austin closer without pushing him too hard. He’s come to the realization, however clumsy, that he definitely wants something more with Austin. He’s still backing away, though. It’s frustrating, this dance of one step forward and two steps backward, but Leo is willing to wait if he needs to. He has nowhere to go and no one else he wants to pursue.

“Seems like we’re missing people,” Austin notes, bringing him back into the present moment. They pull up to the bar, only a few cars parked outside, and Leo frowns.

“They probably carpooled,” he points out. “Or got a ride. Especially if they’re drinking. I mean, I sure hope no one’s driving tonight.”

“Other than Rowan, you mean.”

“Always other than Rowan. Obviously.”

They walk into the bar together, easily picking out the huge group at the far corner. There’s a man with a guitar singing in the corner, small groups of people lounging in warm corners and at the bar. A nice place to spend the rest of the evening, Leo thinks, but not their goal for the night. This is too slow for them.

“Hey,” Rowan says, noticing them walking up. “Jess and Ollie are meeting us at the club. They went to Clear Brew, the traitors.”

“They must have money to burn,” Austin snorts. “What’s the club, again?”

“Chambers. It’s maybe half a mile down the street. You’ll hear it before you see it, unless they turn the lights on before we get there.”

They chat easily for a while, exchanging greetings and comments. Leo manages to touch base with almost everyone, trying to keep track of names in his head. He likes being able to identify the people in his crowd, even if he doesn’t know them well. It’s helpful in most situations.

At some point, Austin passes him a drink, and Leo sits at the edge of the booth. Everyone is packed so tightly that he’s barely on it, balancing precariously while sipping. He likes that Austin stays at his side, body warm by his arm as they laugh about Dean’s poor choice in breakfast.

“Leo knows good donuts,” Katie affirms, “even if he doesn’t know flirting.”

“I do know flirting, though,” Leo says, raising his eyebrows.

“Seduction and flirting aren’t the same thing,” Austin shoots, an uncharacteristically bold statement. Most times he doesn’t even try to trade banter with Leo around their work friends. It’s an extension of the ‘business hours’ rule.

Maybe it’s different, since we’re not at work? He wonders but decides to explore the territory, guessing Austin will let him know if he’s being too familiar.

“Seduction is a type of flirting,” Leo argues.

“No, it’s not. Flirting is nowhere near as forward as seduction.”

“Fine, fine,” Leo waves a hand, laughing. “Semantics. So, what exactly is flirting, to you?”

“Showing interest without sexual overtones. Or undertones. Or tones, at all.”

“Okay, then. Pick.”

“What?”

“Pick someone. Anyone. If I can successfully flirt, you buy me drinks for the rest of the night.”

Lina oohs, and Austin pauses. A small hint of doubt crosses his features, and Leo prepares to retract his statement, hoping he’s not pushing the man further away, but instead Austin grins.

“Okay. Rowan.”

Katie practically dissolves into tears, slapping a hand over her mouth to mute the sound of her laughter. Leo glares at her, turning towards Rowan, who is giving Austin a dirty look.

“Hey, Rowan,” Leo smiles. “How’s the project going?”

“I think you already know,” the man says, looking half pained. Leo hums in agreement, mind racing. What to do?

“You know, I’ve always wondered—why ‘Rowan?’”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it means ‘little red one.’”

“I didn’t know that,” Rowan muses, sipping at his cider. Leo smiles, setting his arm on the table so it touches the other man’s. It’s barely any contact but he knows it’ll reinforce what he’s saying. He lowers his voice just a little, watching Rowan instinctively move closer to hear him.

“Maybe your parents were psychic. Maybe they knew you’d have ridiculously pretty red hair.”

He knows the second he says it that he’s won. He grins, watching Rowan flush almost instantly, the color making his freckles stand out even more. There’s a round of good-natured laughter, and Austin sighs theatrically, pretending to pout.

“I’m staying five feet from you for the rest of the night,” Rowan declares, downing the last inch of his drink.

“Sorry, bud. Free drinks,” he winks, grinning up at Austin. Austin just smirks at him, sipping his beer. It rolls over easier than Leo thought it would; there’s no judgment or anger.

It’s like Austin doesn’t care, except not quite. He clearly cares about what Leo does; he just isn’t worried about Leo’s attention drifting elsewhere. Maybe this is just what he needed, Leo thinks. Some sort of proof that Leo isn’t wandering anymore. He takes it as a good sign, hoping the rest of the night will continue to get better, and joins the group chatter again as they start to discuss how much Chambers has become a hangout spot for college kids and their hopes for it being saved from their dastardly clutches.

By the time they walk towards the club, a few of them are already tipsy. Leo can tell Austin is one of the number, his laughter free and uncaring. He likes seeing this side of the man; it’s like rain on a summer day—perfectly natural, wonderful, and bizarre. Like two things that shouldn’t are happening at once—Leo is walking alongside him, Austin’s arm draped over his shoulder in a casual touch, the man laughing to the night sky.

You’ll hear it before you see it, he remembers Rowan saying. It’s true. The bass thumps from the building, a pulse that seems to throb through the very streets it sits on. He can even see the lights as they get closer, multicolored and soft against the brick walls. He can tell it’s a renovated space, the downtown district’s familiar antique style decorated with modern security cameras and cable lights.

“Oh my god!” Austin yells as they walk in, barely audible over the din. Leo feels like his smile is going to stretch right up to his ears.

The music is like a living thing, pounding around them as multicolored lights swing across the dance floor. There are small seating areas closed off by gauzy black curtains, a few open and others shut away. The people are loud and joyful, glowing drinks floating by as servers expertly maneuver through the ocean of bodies. It looks like something out of a dream.

“I love it!” Leo laughs, leaning close to Rowan. The rest of the group gathers at two tables, the sofas within pushed back from the floor itself. It’s like there are tiny cubbies for them to get away from the noise. Not that Leo wants to.

“Dance?” Leo asks Austin, curious. He has to repeat himself, leaning close when the man looks confused. “Do you want to dance?”

Austin winces, not uncomfortable but clearly unwilling. He laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m no good! I need more drinks to even consider it!”

“You do that, then!” Leo shouts, grinning as he backs away into the crush.

He likes the feeling of being on a dance floor. Like being part of a hive mind—people shift, letting him in, and he easily slips into a spot that seems to be made just for him. The music is just the right tempo and the people jump, perfume and cologne and sweat mingling in a strange cocktail.

Leo is not much of a drinker. He’ll have one or two to let loose, but he never really gets drunk. His drunk is one of indulgence—letting loose, forgetting to care. His drunk is the dance floor.

At some point, Katie joins him with Lina close behind. They laugh and cheer, faces turned up towards the light. He’s not sure how much time has passed and then they’re leaving. He passes them his jacket, feeling one hundred degrees, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead.

He only takes a break once, Rowan sending him a clear look. Come here.

“What’s up?” he asks, breathless, chest heaving. The man tilts his head, glancing at Austin, who seems distracted by something Katie is telling him.

“Austin wants to dance.”

“What?” It doesn’t compute. There’s no way. He knows Austin; the man would never let loose in public, especially around people he knows. Not even with a couple of drinks in him and the knowledge he won’t go to work for another two days.

“Austin!” Rowan shouts, leaning across the table to tap the man’s shoulder.

Austin turns, and Leo knows he’s a goner. His black curls are wild, blue eyes unfocused and wandering. He seems to be looking at everything and nothing, drinking up every image his gaze lands on. He may not have even been watching me, Leo thinks, both disappointed and amused. He’s not sure when he realized he was dancing for someone but he knows now. I can get him to look at me differently, he thinks, suddenly sure. I can change his mind.

The music is getting ready to change—he can tell, the way the song drifts out into a spare beat. He pulls Austin from the booth, careful enough to give him time to move away.

“Come on!” he shouts, encouraging. Austin looks conflicted but it only lasts for a second, his laughter taking over before he can doubt himself any more.

“I’m really bad!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

Something upbeat and bright starts to play and Leo laughs, slipping back into the crowd, feeling the drumline beat through his shoes. Austin laughs, head tilted back, shaking his head even as he starts to sway. Perfect. Leo stays close to him, careful, trying not to touch him too much just yet. He doesn’t have to worry about it, though, because one of Austin’s hands wanders towards a belt loop, hanging loosely as he tugs Leo closer.

Really bad my ass, Leo thinks, moving more. If anything, Austin is more fluid here than he is anywhere else—except maybe bed, he corrects himself, smirking. Maybe that’s why their hips seem to move in tandem, mirroring each other, fitting perfectly together without really touching. Everyone else quickly fades away, so many arms and legs in a sea of faces. Nothing matters but the two of them dancing, Leo lacing his fingers through Austin’s hair to pull him closer.

The music shifts and so do their attitudes. Leo’s suddenly acutely aware of how hot it is and how the back of Austin’s neck is slick with sweat. He wants to say something—voice a need, maybe, or ask a question—but Austin is far gone, blue eyes locked on him.

Thank God we’re out of view, Leo thinks, mouth already open when Austin bends down to kiss him. He doesn’t know if what they’re doing is considered dancing anymore but he knows everyone else on the floor is just as caught up; no one is paying attention to them. One moment Austin is colored in purple, the next, a red filter painting his cheeks. The lights strobe over them, every moment captured like a stuttering flip book. He knows things are getting out of hand quickly—Austin’s hand is wandering under his shirt, pressing at his skin.

He almost gives in, mind racing with all the options they have. We could go back to the apartment, he thinks, we could even share a stall if we’re careful, I don’t care—but then Austin stumbles a little, still laughing and biting at Leo’s mouth as he does, and everything comes to a startling stop.

“Wait,” Leo says, trying to slow the man down, careful. He’s drunk. There’s no way in hell he’s going to do anything when Austin’s drunk. It’s the worst thing he could possibly do, especially since he’s sober. He knows that Austin would hate him for it—hate Leo for being completely aware while he’s foggy, making decisions he’d normally want a clear head to think about. Leo’s not about to become that guy, ignoring reality for a chance at a quick hit.

Leo pulls back and Austin follows, flushed, clearly thinking about what they’re going to do, so Leo guides him towards Katie, who’s dancing.

“Can you watch him for a sec?” Leo asks, bending down to yell by her ear. She looks up, nodding, clear-eyed and cheery. Austin almost follows him but Katie holds his wrist, pulling him down to say something.

“What’s up?” Rowan asks, watching Leo bend closer.

“I’m taking Austin back. I think he’s a little too relaxed,” Leo explains. Rowan nods, passing him his jacket from a corner of the booth.

“Careful!” the man shouts, waving him off as he goes to retrieve Austin.

He’s lucky it’s a Friday night. There’s a car just down the block ready to take them; he’s only preoccupied with keeping Austin off him while they wait.

“Am I gonna get to see your place?” Austin asks, laughing and flushed. Thankfully he’s still a little unbalanced and tired from dancing, otherwise Leo thinks they’d be having the conversation in a back alley.

“No, you’d kill me in the morning—plus, it’s not clean,” Leo snorts, waving down the car that pulls up. He loads Austin in, thanking the driver before trying to keep Austin quiet.

“Do you know what key to use?” Austin asks in a stage whisper. It’s pretty loud in the small car. The driver looks back through the rearview mirror, humor sparkling in his eyes. Leo smothers a laugh, knowing it will only egg Austin on.

“Okay, okay. Sit back, honey. I know what key to use—come on, hand ‘em over.”

“Do you really? Were you watching me last time? Are you a creep, Leo Lockhart?”

“Absolutely, Austin Key,” he replies, mock serious. “Keys, Key. Come on.”

Austin frowns, pretending to be angry, but he’s too giggly when he’s drunk to stay that way for long. He laughs at nothing; it’s both adorable and horrifying. Leo thinks if Austin were to see himself drunk, he’d probably avoid alcohol for the rest of his life. He likes looking put-together more than anyone Leo has ever met.

They roll up to Austin’s apartment in no time, the driver wishing them well and waving cheerfully at Austin.

“He was so nice—did you tip them, Leo, he was nice—”

“Yes, I did,” Leo grins. “We’ll leave a good review in the morning. Come on—you need to lie down.”

“We need to lie down,” Austin corrects, expression changing. He’s no longer silly; all of his energy is being redirected towards something else entirely.

Leo has to admit it’s pretty hard to resist bedroom eyes. Especially when they’re Austin’s blue ones, inviting like the sea, rich and sharp. He can resist, though, especially since he wants them to work. He wants them to move forward, past this fake fling they’re having. He wants Austin to know how much he really cares.

He unlocks the door and turns to close it, breathing out sharply when warm fingers trace shapes on his back. He stares hard at the wood of the door, trying to count the whorls he sees. Do not give in. Your dick is not as important as his heart.

“You sure enjoyed dancing,” Austin breathes, whiskey brushing Leo’s neck, a laugh threatening to choke his words. “Want to try the horizontal tango?”

“Oh my god, you’re even worse at flirting when you’re drunk,” Leo laughs, turning to push Austin’s hair back from his forehead. He’s gifted with a sudden kiss, the press of a tongue against his mouth too much to ignore. He opens quickly, feeling the heat between them.

There’s an undertone of alcohol, bitter, toned down just a bit by the syrup of soda. Jack and coke, he thinks, searching for more. Pineapple, cherry, rum—he tastes like a dark fruit salad, juicy and sticky and sharp. Wait—no, no, no.

“Hold—hold on—” Leo tries, backing away reluctantly, not trying at first to keep Austin far enough away. “Wait, Austin—you’re drunk. You are not going to be happy in the morning, especially with a hangover—”

“We have an agreement,” Austin says simply, trying to move closer, the fact slipping out as if there’s nothing else to say.

Except there is. Leo knows for a fact that Austin would not have had so many drinks if he’d been with a stranger—a one-night-stand. He’d had so much because he was with Leo, someone he knows, and he’s trusted that nothing bad would happen. Which, since Leo is significantly less inebriated, is true. He’s not letting anything happen if he has to leave and catch another ride.

“Austin,” Leo says, kind but firm, “no. You’re drunk and you can’t make a decision right now.”

Austin looks hurt, which puts a nail through Leo’s heart, but he knows better. What people do when they’re drunk is not rational. He only has to let Austin ride this out, sleep it off, and come back to his senses. Be coherent. He pulls Austin towards the bed, recognizing the hope that comes back onto his face, but he’s determined to stop him.

“Lie down,” he says, smiling easily, glad Austin isn’t wearing a jacket. He’s pretty sure helping the man out of it would be a bad cue to give.

Austin complies, clearly expecting something else, but Leo retreats to the bathroom. He feels silly, sitting on the floor and staring at the door as if he can see through it. He feels silly but he knows he’s doing the right thing, waiting for Austin to fall asleep on the bed. He worries Austin will call for him or even come over, trying to get through, but for once he’s lucky. Austin stays away, and Leo waits until his legs cramp, finally rising to crack the door and peer out.

Austin is asleep on the bed, curled towards the empty space as if he wants to get closer to the person that isn’t sleeping there. Leo smiles to himself, pulling his jacket and shoes off. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, feeling the high of dancing start to wear off. Austin’s kisses linger on his lips and he sighs, drawing the shades because he knows Austin will be hungover, and he doesn’t particularly like sun on his face, either.

He lays beside Austin, admiring his curls in the night, the way his lashes fan against his cheekbones. Beautiful, he thinks, wanting to touch but afraid of waking him up. He curls on his side instead, listening to the sound of Austin’s breathing, matching it and drifting to sleep. Tomorrow.

***

HE WAKES UP AT TEN in the morning. For some reason, he can’t sleep any later. He contents himself with scrolling through his phone, watching Austin toss and turn on the bed. This should be interesting.

He can tell that Austin wakes up with a pounding headache. It’s pretty obvious from the way Austin flinches, a ragged growl rumbling from his chest. He’s glad he drew the blinds overnight, sure the bare sunlight filtering over the top is like a nail to the eyes for Austin.

It was probably a bad idea for him to drink so much, Leo thinks, watching Austin push the heels of his hands into his eyes. It clearly does nothing to alleviate the pain, and Austin sighs, squinting at the clock by his bedside. It’s already eleven. Leo considers, curious whether or not Austin remembers, and decides to speak up.

“Welcome to the world of the living.” He purposely keeps his voice low but Austin still jerks, clearly surprised. Leo is partly disappointed. Did he really forget I was here, or did I just surprise him?

“Ugh. I hate drinking. Remind me never to do it again.”

That’s what he says, but Leo can tell the man is avoiding whatever he remembers. There’s a clear expression of hesitancy and guilt on his face. Austin pretends to shield himself from nonexistent light, one hand over his eyes, and Leo grants him the façade. He wants Austin to be comfortable.

“I could try, but we both know you’re not serious,” Leo says calmly, setting his phone on the nightstand. “Besides, I’m the sober friend.”

“You?” Austin chuckles, grimacing. He shakes himself and Leo can just hear his inner monologue; don’t do that, it hurts. “Don’t you mean Rowan?”

“Rowan technically drinks. He’s just not the tipsy type—at least not that we know,” Leo adds, considering.

“He’s not,” Austin sighs. “Can you even imagine him letting loose?”

“I dunno. He seemed to get pretty easily flustered when I flirted with him,” Leo smiles, taking the chance to brush his fingers through Austin’s hair. It feels better than he remembers. “He’s probably crazy in bed.”

“I’m going to pretend I never heard that,” Austin mutters, swinging out of bed. Leo smirks, watching the man pad around the room. It’s a nice view, even if Austin is still wearing jeans and a white shirt.

“Jealous?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Okay, okay. Well, now that you’re awake, shower?”

Austin pauses, frowning. He turns to look at Leo, an eyebrow arched. Leo stares back, trying to emulate innocence as closely as possible. He’s been patient but he can only hold back so long.

“You telling me I smell?” the man asks, occupying himself with finding clean underwear. The jeans he’s wearing betray his blasé attitude. Leo smiles, quietly rolling onto his feet.

“Yes. You smell, I smell, everything is smelly, and we should take a shower,” he says, creeping up behind Austin. He skates his fingers across the man’s sides, feeling the bony slide of Austin’s hips.

Austin exhales heavily through his nose, leaning back. Leo feels triumphant. Score one for Leo. He likes the way Austin’s curls feel against his neck; they’re impossibly soft and silky. He likes how long they are, too, just the right length for tugging at. Sometimes the rewards are more than worth it, he thinks.

“Fine,” Austin breathes, feigning irritation. “I guess there’s room.”

“Cool,” Leo says lightly, stepping away quickly, pretending to be casual. He can hear Austin huff behind him, annoyed.

One of his favorite things is making Austin slow down. The other man is pretty good at pretending to be reluctant, but he’s all too eager to finish once someone else starts. Leo knows when to back off, letting things build to a head. It’s nice, he thinks, and just what Austin needs. Someone to calm him down and remind him to take his time. He’s been running since college, he thinks, and probably before then—he was in all the clubs when Leo met him—spending every waking moment either working or at school or volunteering. It had taken a lot of energy to get Austin to take a break, carving out time on Fridays for them to have dinner together. To have sex, if they were up to it—which they usually were.

He knows how to make Austin slow down, and he knows how to make him feel important. How to pay attention the right way so that Austin understands what it is to be on the receiving end of the intensity he pours into everything he does. It’s one of the few things he’s proud of. He loves that he learned enough to know how to be with Austin.

When he slips into the shower, he brings with him the bottle he knows they’ll need and makes sure to reposition the bath mat a few inches away just in case too much water spills out. He has everything ready by the time Austin appears, half-naked and tired, a bundle of nerves from both his hangover and anticipation.

“I’m so glad you have hot water,” Leo mutters, turning the stream on at half power. Enough to make things steamy but not so much that it’s a waste. He can’t help the practicality. That’s what you get when you spend half your adult life worrying about bills.

“What? No cold shower?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Good. I’m not that good at self-deprivation,” Austin yawns, peeling his boxers off. Leo snorts, pulling his t-shirt off.

“Yeah, I know. Good thing you have to slow down.”

“It’s a hangover, not a broken limb.”

“You’re aware that the shower gets slippery when wet,” Leo says, amused. Now that he thinks back, he knows they never did use their shower—the dorm ones were tiny. Still, he’s a little surprised that none of Austin’s one-night stands were adventurous enough to try.

Not that it’s a big difference. It’s just a shower.

“Yes,” Austin says, but his tone is uneven and Leo can tell he’s lying to cover up his inexperience. It’s cute.

“Oh, good. ‘Cause I’m not great at bathtubs or showers to begin with. I broke mine as a kid once, falling down. Cracked the plastic.”

“Of course you did,” Austin jokes, relaxing at the admission.

They step into the shower together, the space just barely wide enough and long enough for the both of them. It’s still narrow, though, and Leo can barely reach around Austin to grab shampoo. Austin raises an eyebrow, watching him.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a cat,” Leo smirks, sidling up closer. “You need to take care of your hair. It’s beautiful.”

There’s a small amount of awe in Austin’s expression, which is wonderful all by itself, but then Leo knots his hands in the man’s hair, and he lets out a sigh. They’re just about the same height, Austin taller by maybe half an inch. He leans into the touch, eyes shut against the threat of soap.

“There we go,” Leo murmurs, not really paying attention to what he’s saying anymore. “Just like a model. Spin for me, darling.”

“...and you ruined it,” Austin says, feigning disappointment, but he smiles as he turns around.

Leo takes his time, massaging carefully, certain he’s doing it wrong but not sure that it matters.

“I’m sorry,” Austin murmurs, almost too quiet to hear.

“For what?”

“I was being stupid last night. Pushy. It wasn’t okay.”

“You were drunk, Austin,” Leo reminds him, touched by the admission.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have tried to push anything on you.”

“No offense, babe, but I took fighting classes in school. I could probably drop you like a sack of potatoes.”

Austin laughs, shaking his head, and Leo smiles. He’s being completely honest. It makes him warmer to know that Austin readily owns up to his mistake, even if it wasn’t as bad as he’s making it out to be. It’s a good sign.

“If you get soap in my eyes, I’m kicking you out,” Austin says, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“You could try,” Leo says, sly, fingers exploring the man’s back. “But then you’d have to take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself,” Austin breathes.

“Of course you can. But that’s no fun.”

“True,” Austin agrees, leaning back into his touch.

It’s a reflexive move, and Leo bites his tongue, sure that Austin can feel him hot against his back. He may be interested in getting Austin to slow down, but he’s not a god. He can only take so much himself before his body demands action. His arms reach around Austin’s body, admiring the soft curve of skin over muscle as his hands wander downwards.

The steam is making things so much better. He’s glad he thought of it—his heart is already beating faster than normal, pushing blood through his veins and making him breathe quicker. Austin hums softly, hands curling around Leo’s arms.

He takes Austin in hand carefully, enjoying the weight, breathing onto the man’s shoulder when he feels the body back up into his. They are in contact, close, the heat of the water beating against them like bullets.

“I liked your excitement,” Leo says carefully, starting to move his hand. “That part wasn’t bad.”

“You looked so good,” Austin manages. “You were flushed and sweaty from dancing, and I couldn’t forget what you looked like.”

Leo closes his fist a little tighter, enjoying the purr that Austin makes. The man leans against the wall, right below the shower head, hips pushing backwards.

“I was dancing for you,” Leo smiles. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“You’re a performer, I would be stupid to think you’d stop.”

“Good. I guess all you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride,” he laughs, one hand retrieving the bottle he’d set on the ledge.

It’s easy to open with one hand but he waits, biting at Austin’s neck and using the noise to cover up the plastic click. He gets distracted, too, by the clean taste on his tongue. One of Austin’s hands reaches back, scraping against his leg, the sensation dull in the hot water. He’s pulled closer, and Leo has to remind himself to back away, pulling his body away before he gets too close.

His fingers are sticky when he carefully presses, not doing anything yet but giving Austin a chance to protest. He hasn’t done this yet—wonders if Austin even has, with any of his other partners. From the way the man moves, legs as far apart as the shower allows, he thinks so. Nice to know, he thinks, pleased. It’s good to change things up every once in a while. He can feel anticipation cloud his mind, half of his brain shouting to do something already. He ignores it, taking his time to kneel down.

He’s not worried about how to do it. It’s simple, in theory, and he’s not shy. He sighs, hands spread against the side of Austin’s hips, and presses against the man with his tongue. Muscle contracts, reflexive, and then it gives way. Austin moans against the shower tiles, pressing back into Leo.

His knees are starting to get sore but he doesn’t care. Austin’s skin is warm under his hands and the man tastes clean, the water making everything seem more cool than he feels. He concentrates on breathing even as a waterfall pours over his shoulders, pounding relentlessly. Leo wonders distantly whether Austin’s hands will leave prints on the glass. Just one more memory stamped into reality. A lasting reminder, he hopes. He kind of likes the idea of Austin being distracted by the memory of shower sex every time he’s trying to rinse off after work. He rises after a few minutes, surprised when Austin turns.

“I’m not done,” Leo says, amused, but the man pulls him closer. He doesn’t complain when his mouth is occupied; the kiss is slow and deliberate and he can feel Austin moving his leg onto the ledge of the shower. Hm.

“I need to see you,” Austin breathes, blinking past heavy drops of water on his eyelashes.

Leo hums in agreement, snaking his hand around Austin, just barely reaching where he needs to, pushing a finger in with slow care. Austin groans into their kiss, the sensation vibrating pleasantly between them. Leo smiles, glad for the change in position. He can see Austin’s face, which has really always been peculiarly beautiful to him.

Most men he’s dated have been a specific type—which is not his fault, he thinks—it’s just that he fits the bill for certain people. Most of them were athletic or muscled, the kind that looked like they’d spent a weekend chopping wood. Short hair, usually with clean-shaven faces and straightforward personalities.

Austin is not like them. He’s fit but not a bodybuilder; his hair is long and curly, just as wild as his heart. He has perpetual stubble and olive skin. He’s more often found doing squats while reading project files, and he has a tendency to use sharp words to cover up his vulnerabilities. His blue eyes are to die for, and Leo feels like he probably has, again.

“What do you need?” Leo wonders, not quite registering that he’s asked out loud. He knows when he says it that he can’t expect an answer. Their relationship is not the kind where it can be answered.

“I need you,” Austin says immediately, without hesitation, and Leo is caught completely off guard. His hand stutters, almost stopping completely.

Austin takes it as a signal, turning easily, sighing as he does. Leo almost doesn’t know what to do with the confession, heart skipping. Need and want are two different things, he tells himself. No matter how much Austin needs a grounding force, someone who slows him down, it isn’t important if he doesn’t want it.

Think about it later, he tells himself, which isn’t too hard to follow—he’s already being greeted by the stretch of Austin’s back, tan skin warm beneath his fingers.

He pushes in slowly, trying to memorize every second, mind tangled in the mess of feelings he’s overwhelmed with. He isn’t sure he’s ever felt so connected to someone before; all he can feel is Austin, the way he pulls him further and twists beneath his touch. I should have done this a thousand times before, he thinks, holding on as tightly as possible to the man’s hips.

“You can move,” Austin grinds out. “In fact, please move—”

“And you ruined it,” Leo echoes, laughing, the jerk moving them both. He moves his feet carefully, bracing himself as much as possible in the space, and moves back out slowly.

He thinks he’ll imagine the way he looks, moving in and out of Austin, for the rest of his life. It’s transfixing, especially set to the sound of Austin moaning before him. The water feels like fire on his skin as he moves faster, pushing and pulling, feeling the pulse between them.

He can barely hear the slap he makes when he hits Austin, the beat of water a low cascade. Even his pulse pounds in his ear, a drumming that echoes his movement. Everything is noise and touch to him; he can’t speak, even the thoughts driven from his mind as he concentrates on Austin.

“Yes, yes, move faster—” Austin cries, nails scraping tile, and Leo reaches out. His fingers barely curl at Austin’s shoulder, trying to pull the man’s body back into him.

Austin gives as good as he gets, which Leo expects, but it’s glorious to feel the man bounce back against him in a mirror of his movements. They’re both riding a wave, the rush enticing them further along. Leo breathes heavily, wanting to stay in the moment forever, hips sliding a little, and then Austin practically screams.

There, he tells himself, knowing he’s found the right spot and incredibly triumphant—even if he can’t reach it again, he’s done it once. He’s done it to Austin. The man is crying out already, pleading, words as much of an endless stream as the shower. Leo stays firmly in place, not moving an inch from where he’s standing, and hits again. Austin is shaking and Leo feels the knowledge soar in his chest, elation fueling him faster. He’s falling apart for me, he thinks, amazed and proud and somehow impossibly harder at the thought. He feels too tight, like he’s about to explode out of his body.

He pushes in one last time, fully surrounded, and the last thing that leaves Austin’s mouth is his name. It’s enough to push Leo over the edge, leaving him blinded by a red wave of pleasure. He feels like he’s going to collapse, wondering if his entire body is as raw as he feels. It’s like every nerve ending has been exposed; even the weightless droplets hitting his skin are like lead.

Austin pushes back against him gently, one hand curling over his hip, holding them together for just a moment longer. I never want to leave, he thinks, the buzzing under his skin subsiding by the barest amount. We should always be this way.

“I think I bit my lip,” Austin manages. He sounds almost drugged.

“I think we both bit more than that,” Leo huffs, laughter soundless and full of air.

“We’re going to go back to sleep, aren’t we?”

“You wanna stay awake, be my guest.”

“’Mkay,” Austin murmurs, sighing as he pulls away. They both groan at the loss, leaning against shower walls to support their tired bodies.

“At least your hair’s clean,” Leo offers, smirking.

Austin rolls his eyes halfheartedly but his expression is one of bliss, blue eyes heavy-lidded and dark.

“Come on. You need to clean off so we don’t get my sheets dirty, again.”

“I’ll buy you detergent later,” Leo promises, laughing when Austin dumps a handful of shampoo on his head.

They clean up in little time, already bright-skinned from exertion and hot water. As soon as they finish, they trudge back out and set an alarm for two hours, throwing sheets over their bodies.

“Lunch later,” Austin murmurs sleepily, burying his curls further into the sheets.

“Later,” Leo agrees, smiling as he watches the man give in to sleep.

They have time. He has time. He feels warm when he curls closer to Austin, thinking about what might come next. He feels like they’re getting closer without really thinking about it. As if their rules are secondary to whatever it is they’re feeling.

Maybe I have a shot at this, he thinks. If Austin isn’t afraid anymore—if he really feels safe, maybe they can start something new. Maybe Leo can show him just how much he’s changed. He smiles. It’s going to work out after all.