Misconceptions
Vases
An odd rough sound rips itself from Cody’s throat and he spins around, vase still beside him. Brandon doesn’t breathe.
“I know,” Cody almost yells back, eyes silver-bright and shiny. “I love you as well! You fucking prat,” he adds in a rough whisper.
Brandon stares at him, at his parted lips and ruffled hair and flushed skin. Cody’s words echo over in his head until a violent, aching warmth seizes him, slamming his heart and spreading outwards in waves, tugging his lips into a smile he can’t control and stinging his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinks painfully and it’s only when the room continues to swim that he realizes he’s about to cry.
“Sorry,” he mutters, flushing and lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know why, but he’s sure Cody can see it and he’s never felt more exposed.
Cody inhales sharply and steps toward him; as he does, he flicks his hand distractedly to toss the vase away, but his lack of attention instead sends the heavy piece of glass smacking into Brandon’s ribs and Brandon stumbles, winded. The impact fails to shatter the glass but it hurts, and he struggles for breath as he blurrily watches the vase drop to the floor, where it cracks into several pieces.
A split-second later, Cody closes the distance between them; he grabs Brandon’s shoulders, eyes frantic.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck... sorry.”
Though he senses he’s not hurt and knows Cody didn’t... wouldn’t... hurt him on purpose, Brandon is fighting down panic as he holds the eye contact and wraps his hands around Cody’s hips. Before he knows what’s happening, Cody is pulling at his shirt and pressing unsteady hands to his skin and whispering rapidly. When the pain eases, he drags in a gasping breath. Looks down at the pale hands splayed across his chest and back up into anxious grey eyes.
So close now that his breath warms Brandon’s lips, Cody speaks. “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” Brandon says faintly.
“I can... nothing’s broken,” Cody murmurs, trailing fingers over the exposed skin and up into Brandon’s hair. “Could’ve really hurt you.”
The touch makes Brandon shiver and he pulls Cody tighter against him, needing the relief of the contact and the warmth of him even through his clothes. “It takes more than an ugly vase to hurt me,” he offers, trying to ignore the catch in his voice.
“Didn’t really mean the vase,” Cody says and brushes his lips over Brandon’s so lightly that suddenly his eyes are stinging all over again and threatening to spill over.
“You never say what you mean.”
“I know.” Cody offers him a half-smile that he feels against his lips. “Well, sometimes I do,” he concedes, voice soft.
Something sharply beautiful leaps inside Brandon and the last of the lingering dull pain dissolves. He snorts messily, notes the shimmer threatening in Cody’s eyes and kisses him hard, reaching up to tangle fingers in his hair and keep him in place, as though he might escape at any moment. As he groans softly and kisses back with chaotic, hungry intensity, though, Brandon knows he’s going nowhere and at the first stroke of tongues, the last of that horrible distance melts away.
He’s still sore and tired and a little bit confused, but Cody loves him and he finds it hard to care about anything else. Saying the words aloud is liberating, strange, and he wants to say them again, just to test out how they feel on his tongue.
Pulling back from the kiss, he opens his eyes and takes in the huge empty room, the scattered sparkling fragments and the darkened grey eyes fastened upon his. “I love you.”
“Yes,” Cody whispers, and his smile makes Brandon want to dance. “Always yes. And you taste like tequila.”
Brandon laughs, shakes his head and buries his face in damp blond hair that smells like lemons and sweat and makes his heart pound with relief. “It didn’t help much,” he mumbles. “And... I’m sorry about what I said about Zack. Though I still think he’s a bit of a wanker.”
Cody shakes against him, releasing a rough laugh/sob into his shoulder. “I know he is.”
“I know,” Cody almost yells back, eyes silver-bright and shiny. “I love you as well! You fucking prat,” he adds in a rough whisper.
Brandon stares at him, at his parted lips and ruffled hair and flushed skin. Cody’s words echo over in his head until a violent, aching warmth seizes him, slamming his heart and spreading outwards in waves, tugging his lips into a smile he can’t control and stinging his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinks painfully and it’s only when the room continues to swim that he realizes he’s about to cry.
“Sorry,” he mutters, flushing and lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know why, but he’s sure Cody can see it and he’s never felt more exposed.
Cody inhales sharply and steps toward him; as he does, he flicks his hand distractedly to toss the vase away, but his lack of attention instead sends the heavy piece of glass smacking into Brandon’s ribs and Brandon stumbles, winded. The impact fails to shatter the glass but it hurts, and he struggles for breath as he blurrily watches the vase drop to the floor, where it cracks into several pieces.
A split-second later, Cody closes the distance between them; he grabs Brandon’s shoulders, eyes frantic.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck... sorry.”
Though he senses he’s not hurt and knows Cody didn’t... wouldn’t... hurt him on purpose, Brandon is fighting down panic as he holds the eye contact and wraps his hands around Cody’s hips. Before he knows what’s happening, Cody is pulling at his shirt and pressing unsteady hands to his skin and whispering rapidly. When the pain eases, he drags in a gasping breath. Looks down at the pale hands splayed across his chest and back up into anxious grey eyes.
So close now that his breath warms Brandon’s lips, Cody speaks. “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” Brandon says faintly.
“I can... nothing’s broken,” Cody murmurs, trailing fingers over the exposed skin and up into Brandon’s hair. “Could’ve really hurt you.”
The touch makes Brandon shiver and he pulls Cody tighter against him, needing the relief of the contact and the warmth of him even through his clothes. “It takes more than an ugly vase to hurt me,” he offers, trying to ignore the catch in his voice.
“Didn’t really mean the vase,” Cody says and brushes his lips over Brandon’s so lightly that suddenly his eyes are stinging all over again and threatening to spill over.
“You never say what you mean.”
“I know.” Cody offers him a half-smile that he feels against his lips. “Well, sometimes I do,” he concedes, voice soft.
Something sharply beautiful leaps inside Brandon and the last of the lingering dull pain dissolves. He snorts messily, notes the shimmer threatening in Cody’s eyes and kisses him hard, reaching up to tangle fingers in his hair and keep him in place, as though he might escape at any moment. As he groans softly and kisses back with chaotic, hungry intensity, though, Brandon knows he’s going nowhere and at the first stroke of tongues, the last of that horrible distance melts away.
He’s still sore and tired and a little bit confused, but Cody loves him and he finds it hard to care about anything else. Saying the words aloud is liberating, strange, and he wants to say them again, just to test out how they feel on his tongue.
Pulling back from the kiss, he opens his eyes and takes in the huge empty room, the scattered sparkling fragments and the darkened grey eyes fastened upon his. “I love you.”
“Yes,” Cody whispers, and his smile makes Brandon want to dance. “Always yes. And you taste like tequila.”
Brandon laughs, shakes his head and buries his face in damp blond hair that smells like lemons and sweat and makes his heart pound with relief. “It didn’t help much,” he mumbles. “And... I’m sorry about what I said about Zack. Though I still think he’s a bit of a wanker.”
Cody shakes against him, releasing a rough laugh/sob into his shoulder. “I know he is.”