All the Ways We Say I Love You.

Brendon pressed his face into Ryan's neck, inhaling. He could smell the rain even through the windows and he could smell the sticky sweat beads of sweat almost on the surface of Ryan's skin. They were waiting for the guy from Sears to show up and fix the air conditioner. Ryan was trying to untangle himself from the reaching arms of his boyfriend. It was too hot, even with the droplets falling down outside.

"I'm going to get the bong," he said, fixing Brendon with slightly narrowed eyes. "Stay."

"Ry . . ." Brendon whined, but his boyfriend had already untangled himself and was stumbling down the hallway. The younger boy pushed his bottom lip out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dammit."

"It's not like you'll die if you have to keep your hands to yourself for an hour or so," Ryan groused, pulling his shirt over his head before he picked the bong up from the nightstand and returned.

"That's what you think," Brendon sulked, eyes lingering hopefully on the bong, but refusing to meet his boyfriend's gaze.

Ryan sighed, sinking down into the carpet and pulled the grinder to him across the coffee table. "Why do you always do that?" he asked, voice soft. "It's not, like . . . Christ, Bren. I'm right here. It's not like you need to worry about me being a ghost."

"Or maybe I just want to touch you as much as I can before you run off again."

Fingers tightening, jaw clenching. Ryan swallowed, feeling light-headed and more than a little ready to start spitting out profanities. "Maybe if you had a little more faith in me, it wouldn't be so damn easy to walk out on you."

Brendon shrugged, examining his fingernails. "Maybe if you didn't leave me every three months I would have a little faith in you."

"God dammit, Brendon!" Ryan yelled, slamming his fist down against the table and wincing immediately. "Stupid motherfucker," he added, quieter, not sure who it was directed at.

The younger boy closed his eyes for a moment as he pulled the breath deep into his lungs. "Let's go outside or something," he offered gently.

"It's too wet," Ryan said dismissively. He looked up as if he might say something else, but the doorbell rang then. He looked up, nearly alarmed. "I'll put this away while you get that."

Brendon made no movement to show he'd heard or was planning to get up and the older boy swore, stashing the bong in the closet as he made his way to the front door. He was so sick of playing the wife and not reaping any of the benefits.

---

"He's gone," Ryan said when he shook Brendon awake about an hour later. "Asshole."

The younger boy opened his eyes, smiling and reaching up to pull the other boy down for a kiss. "It's done raining."

"The air's back on."

"I want to marry you."

Ryan looked like he was going to smile or cry. Brendon wasn't sure which and he moved to sit up, reach out and take his boyfriend's face in his hands, figure out which one it was. Fix it or reassure the promise depending on which was needed, but the older boy had already pulled away to retrieve the bong from the closet.

The younger shook his head and sighed, still sitting up. "You always do that."

"So do you."

"Would you marry me if I asked you to?"

Ryan shook his head. "I wouldn't marry anyone. Ever."

"I'd marry you."

Ryan turned his head away, chuckling softly to himself.

"What?" Brendon asked, always terrified of being left out of a joke.

The dry, but warm return, was tinged with affection. "It's raining again."