Lance froze.

Travis was in his apartment—and suddenly Matthew needing Lance’s help with taste-testing things at the café all day made a lot more sense—with jazz playing, the soothing quiet kind of jazz that Lance loved, but Travis thought was boring. One of his tablecloths was out on the coffee table, with candles set on it, glowing softly and showing off the vase of red roses. He could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled.

“What…” Lance tried to ask what was going on, but the words died on his tongue.

Travis had greeted him, but had fallen silent after that. Lance felt like it was his cue, but he didn’t know what his cue was, or what the lines were, or anything.

He’d had a plan. He was going to come home, shower, and head over to Joe’s where Travis would inevitably be. He was going to ask Luke to borrow the office upstairs, and he was going to take Travis up there and they were going to have a talk...a real, honest talk.

But now Travis was here. In his apartment. With candles and roses and food and jazz.

All those silly romantic things, in fact, that Lance had always wanted but had never gotten, the things he didn’t like really talking about to others and so only Davis, a fellow romantic, and Travis knew about it.

But… Travis didn’t like any of those romantic things. He’d told Lance as much, during one of their many whispered confession sessions in high school when Lance had slept over, not wanting to go home. He’d always slept in Travis’s bed with him, the two of them facing one another, their bodies curled into each other like a pair of parentheses.

Travis had told him that while he eventually wanted someone to spend the rest of his life with, he didn’t like all of that silly romantic stuff, and he didn’t want to have to do grand gestures.

So what was all of this?

Travis shuffled from foot to foot, then cleared his throat. He looked nervous, something that Travis rarely looked, even when he was actually feeling nervous. “So. I. Uh. I should get the food out, actually.”

He went over to the kitchen and grabbed some stuff out of the oven. Lance’s mouth watered. He’d been eating little bites of Matthew’s food all day, but he hadn’t had a proper meal since breakfast. The food was Mexican, he realized. His favorite.

“Trav?” He asked. “What’s going on?”

He spied a notepad resting on the kitchen counter and walked over to it. It was scribbled all over with pen, with sentences crossed out and then rewritten, some circled, some written so hastily as to be illegible while others were in all caps and underlined.

Lance picked it up. He could make out a few words on it, but most of it was a mess. He flipped a page. More writing, still pretty much illegible.

When he flipped a few more pages in, though, he could actually read the writing as the person—probably Travis—got a better handle on their thoughts. He got a glimpse of sentences like I don’t know what I’d do without you and I’m a shit but then a big hand closed over his and he looked up.

Travis’s eyes were wide and he looked, well, terrified. “That’s—um. You weren’t supposed to read that. Or you were, but after I…”

He trailed off, then looked down at the notepad in Lance’s hands. Then he stepped back. “Actually, it might be better if you just read that. God knows I’m gonna fuck it up if I actually say anything out loud.”

Lance was still a little confused, but now also trying to stifle the hope that was rising in his chest, soft and tentative.

The notepad started out messy with illegible words scrambled on top of one another, but then he was able to make out random sentences. Travis took the notepad from him and flipped through it, then handed it back. “There. Start there.”

Lance tried not to look at Travis, but it was hard not to when he kept fidgeting. He hadn’t known Travis to fidget in years. It was something he did only when he was extremely nervous, and Lance hadn’t known Travis to be nervous about anything that didn’t involve his dad since prom.

He focused instead on the notepad.

It started out with what looked like a few attempts at starting a speech.

Look, I know I’m an idiot—

So the guys have told me—

I was awful—

I’m sorry.

You know I thought it was so stupid that I’d been looking at you all this time and I hadn’t realized I didn’t want anyone else to kiss you because I’m supposed to be the one kissing you.

You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right and I know I’ve been saying that for years but what I’m trying to say is that maybe I could be that person I’m going to fuck it up I know but at least I’ll try?

I don’t even know this guy Tom and I hate him?

Even my dad saw it Jesus fucking Christ—

Then he flipped the page and got to what looked like the official draft of the speech.

REMEMBER TO ASK HIM TO SIT DOWN was written in capital letters at the top. Lance smiled. It was pretty cute, honestly.

Dear Lance it started but then that was crossed out with too formal you idiot written after that.

The rest flowed without much interruption.

Hey,

I messed up.

I’ve been kind of messing up for years now, apparently, and I should’ve seen that coming. I should’ve been more self-aware. I’m guessing that Dad kind of blames himself, you know, but it’s not like I’m a kid, I’m an adult and you’d think I’d have learned some goddamn emotional maturity at some point, you know?

You’re my best friend. You always know what I’m thinking. So… I guess I thought that if I just made a move that you would know what I was thinking again and you’d move with me, you know what I mean? I thought that just a quick explanation would be enough.

I was really excited. When I realized that I wanted to be with you. It’s that stupid sign, you know, it helped me realize that I was actually not just protective but jealous of all those other guys and then Dad—we talked about you a bit. He said he thought you were good for me and I should be with you.

That threw me for a fucking loop I got to tell you, and then I went and tried to pick someone up to distract myself and that didn’t work and I thought well this is awesome, right? I want to be with my best friend, how easy is that. It’ll be just like always but better because sex.

Luke and Adam kind of made me see that I’m stupid for that.

I should’ve told you instead of just assuming you’d know. And I should’ve known that even if you’re best friends for years when you become lovers you have to put in some actual work to show your appreciation.

That’s what all this is for. I know you like this stuff and so I want to show you that I’m not going to be good at it—I want to warn you about that—but I’m going to try. You just might have to remind me sometimes.

Because I’m happiest when I’m with you. I feel safe when I’m with you. I hate sharing you with other people. Not in a creepy way, I just mean in an other guys hitting on you kind of way. I want to be with you, and just you, and I want you to be with just me.

The point is I’m not good at this but I think I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for years actually and just never realized it because, yeah, I’m a fucking idiot.

So, would you like to give us a shot? Give me a shot? Let me make it up to you?

Let me be the guy who makes you feel special like you deserve, even if I’m going to mess it up sometimes.

The end of it was covered in various sentences that were all squished together and cut over each other.

“I couldn’t figure out how to end it,” Travis said. “I thought that if I wrote it all down though it’d be easier for me to remember everything I wanted to say and not… screw it all up again.”

Lance had to blink rapidly at the heat he felt building up in his eyes. This was—well, not to sound like a fairytale or anything but this was what he’d always dreamed about. Travis was literally telling him that he was in love with him. He’d ordered him his favorite food, and roses, and put up candles and his favorite music. He was making an effort the way that Lance had always hoped that he would.

The look of hesitance on Travis’s face broke his heart. Lance didn’t ever want Travis upset or afraid, and he definitely didn’t want Travis to be upset or afraid because of Lance.

The hope that had been bubbling up in his chest finally sprang free, turning into full-on joy, lighting up his face.

“You did all of this for me.”

Travis nodded, a tentative smile starting to spread across his face. “You’re smiling. I take it that means you’re… you like it?”

“I love it,” Lance admitted. “Like I love you.”

Travis looked like he’d been run over by a truck and didn’t care. He grabbed Lance’s hand and pulled him in, all but crushing him to Travis’s chest as Travis wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Lance’s hair.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” Lance admitted, the words pushed into Travis’s chest, like it was a safe space, a place to keep his secrets. “I had given up. I thought—and then when you slept with me I thought you were drunk and just wanted sex and that was it, and that maybe you’d even regret it in the morning.”

Travis tightened his hold on Lance, as if to say that he was sorry for making Lance feel that way. Lance smiled.

“And then Matthew pointed out that I was being a massive hypocrite.” Lance sighed. “I wasn’t telling you how I felt and assuming that you would just figure it out, and then getting angry at you for doing the same thing to me, just assuming that I would know how you were feeling.”

“We both messed up,” Travis acknowledged. Lance could feel the words rumbling in Travis’s chest against his ear. “I was an asshole.”

“I wasn’t exactly innocent,” Lance replied. He grinned. “But yeah, you are an asshole.”

Travis laughed. Lance pulled back, grinning up at him. Travis was looking at him the way that Lance had always hoped, his dark eyes warm and brimming with affection and fondness. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Travis told him. “Because I’m kind of in love with you, if that’s okay.”

“Wow, Adam and Luke really worked over that whole idea of communication, didn’t they?” Lance teased.

Travis shrugged. “I just don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings. I want you to know that I care about you.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Lance said, pretending to look thoughtful. Then he grinned and yanked Travis down to him.

Travis’s hands slid down to grip Lance’s hips, pulling them more flush against each other. Lance slid his hands up to wrap them around Travis’s neck. The kiss was just as good as the one from the other night, but better, because Lance wasn’t caught by surprise and could respond, and Travis wasn’t tipsy so there was no doubt, no concern, just the soft press of Travis’s lips against his, firm and amazing.

Lance gasped, opening his mouth and letting Travis slide their tongues together. Lance shuddered, everything heightened now that he no longer had residual guilt or anger, no longer feeling like he was taking advantage of Travis or that Travis was taking advantage of him.

He could feel heat stirring up in his gut and working its way up his spine—but his stomach was also rumbling. He broke away, laughing, only to blush when Travis just kissed his forehead instead.

“We should eat, before the food gets cold,” Lance pointed out.

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that.” Travis pulled away and quickly brought the food—enchiladas and tacos—over to the coffee table. “You really need to get a dining room table.”

“It wouldn’t fit,” Lance replied. “You really need to get a house.”

“Ouch, low blow.” Travis chuckled, and reached out, taking Lance by the hand and reeling him back in.

“You’re going to be doing that all the time now, aren’t you?” Lance asked, settling down to eat.

Travis started to look sheepish, but then switched his expression to determined. “I have to keep you close,” he said. “You got a problem with that?”

Lance tucked himself into Travis’s side. “Nope, no problem at all.”