Waiting Up

It was nearly three in the morning, and Anthony couldn't sleep. He felt stupid admitting it, but it was strange, knowing that Ian wasn't sleeping in the next room over. He rolled over onto his side, staring absently at the wall. He wondered what Ian was doing. He probably didn't want to know. Ian was out with… God, he couldn't even remember her name. That girl Ian was dating, anyway. They'd only been seeing each other for a little over a month, and already Ian was spending nearly every other night at her house. Anthony wondered what would happen if one day Ian never came home. What if he decided to move in with her? What would happen to Smosh? What would happen to their friendship?

He rolled back onto his stomach, frustrated with himself. He was twenty-three years old, for fuck's sake; he should be able to go to sleep without his best friend there. And yet he felt incredibly lonely knowing he was alone in the house. They'd been sharing the house for years; Anthony could barely remember life before Ian.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a loud knock on the front door. Was Ian home? Did he forget his keys? Maybe he'd had a fight with… with whatshername. He was disgusted by his excitement at the idea.

He slid out of bed and turned the lights on, pulling on a pair of jeans over his boxers. The knocking got louder. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered under his breath. He hurried to the front door, flicking on lights as he went. When he finally wrenched the door open, he was greeted by the sight of Ian half-slumped over, leaning against a pretty blonde girl. Not whatshername, Anthony was sure; he'd met her once, and this girl definitely looked nothing like her.

"Um," Anthony said.

"I found your drunk friend here crying on the curb downtown," the girl said. "He needed some help to find his way home." She paused, looking around. "This is the right house, right?"

"Yeah, he's mine," Anthony said, rolling his eyes.

"Hi Anthony," Ian said feebly, swaying on his feet.

"So you guys are…?" the girl trailed off.

"No, we're roommates," Anthony replied. "Thanks for your help." He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill for the girl. "Here, take this."

"Thanks," she replied. "Drunk roommate delivery service, that's me." She grinned at Anthony and pushed Ian gently towards him, then turned and walked back to her car.

Anthony put his arm around Ian's shoulders, holding him steady as he helped him inside. His breath reeked of alcohol.

"God, Ian, what were you drinking?" Anthony asked, more concerned than annoyed.

"Whiskey… I think…" Ian mumbled.

"Well, come on," Anthony said gently. "Let's get you cleaned up and put you to bed."

Ian nodded weakly.

In the bathroom, Anthony filled a glass with water and put toothpaste on Ian's toothbrush.

"Here," he said, handing the toothbrush to Ian. Ian obediently brushed his teeth, scrubbing the alcohol smell away. When he was done, Anthony held out the water. Ian swallowed it in small sips.

"Feel better now?" Anthony asked. Ian nodded. Anthony looked him up and down. His hair was disheveled, there were tearstains on his face, and both knees of his jeans were torn.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Anthony asked.

"She broke up with me," Ian said. The despair in his voice made Anthony feel ashamed of his earlier thoughts.

"Why'd she do that?" he asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.

"She… she told me she wants a guy with… with a real job," Ian said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "She thinks I'm…" His breath hitched, and he let out a small sob. "She thinks I'm immature." He was crying again. Not a lot, but the few tears flowing down his cheeks still tugged at Anthony's heartstrings. He pulled Ian into a hug, and Ian buried his face in Anthony's neck. His skin was hot and feverish. Anthony stroked his hair, murmuring "it'll be alright", and "don't worry", and anything else he could think of. For a brief moment he was sure he felt Ian's lips brush against his neck, sending odd shivers up and down his spine, but then they were gone and he convinced himself he'd imagined it.

Finally, Ian's tears subsided. "Come on," Anthony said softly. "I'll help you to your room." He pulled away from Ian, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. They made their way slowly down the hall, Anthony stopping to catch Ian every time he stumbled. After what seemed like minutes, Anthony pushed open the door to Ian's room. Ian was barely conscious, holding onto Anthony for dear life.

"Come on, almost there," Anthony urged.

"…pass out…" Ian mumbled.

"Fuck," Anthony muttered, wrapping his arms around Ian just as Ian's legs gave out. Anthony stumbled under the weight. "Fuck," he said again, half-carrying and half-dragging him to the bed. He laid him down as gently as possible, pulled the sheets over him, and turned out the lights, but as he turned to leave, Ian's voice cried out, "Wait!" Anthony looked back at him, his heart aching at the panic in Ian's voice.

"I thought you were passed out," he said.

"No… maybe…" Ian tried to sit up, fell back against the pillows, and let out a small whimper. "My head," he whined.

"You gonna be alright?" Anthony asked.

"Stay," Ian said softly.

Anthony hesitated. "What?"

"Stay," Ian murmured. "Please."

"Alright, fine. Just let me put a shirt on first, I'm not sleeping in your bed half-naked."

"Naked," Ian whispered, and giggled.

"Oh my god, dude, you're not allowed to have whiskey anymore," Anthony said, grabbing one of Ian's shirts off the floor and pulling it on. It smelled nice, he noticed. That Ian smell. He slid into the bed next to Ian, fully dressed. He noticed Ian was still wearing his sneakers and his hoodie.

"Hold on," he said as Ian tried to snuggle up against him. "You're still wearing your outdoor stuff." He pulled the blanket back and tugged Ian's shoes off, tossing them to the floor. He began wrestling with the zipper of Ian's hoodie, which refused to open.

"You're undressing me," Ian giggled.

"No, I'm not," Anthony said exasperatedly. "I'm trying to get you into bed so you can go the fuck to sleep and sober the fuck up." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth; Ian's face fell and he began to tear up again.

"Ian, I'm sorry, man, it's just been a long night," he said, but it was too late. Ian was crying again, his face contorted from the tears. He let out a quiet, gasping sob.

"I'm sorry," Anthony said desperately. He finally managed to get Ian's hoodie off and dropped it onto the floor, then pulled him close. Ian sobbed silently into his chest. After several minutes, his tears subsided. Anthony held him tight, not wanting to let go until he was sure he was okay.

"You know, I told her no," Ian mumbled, breaking the silence.

Anthony pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. "No? No to what?"

"About getting a real job," Ian murmured. "I told her I love what I do too much to give it up. And I told her it wouldn't feel right to not be working with you."

Anthony's heart rose into his throat. "Ian," he said softly.

"Anthony," Ian whispered. He looked indecisive for a moment, and then he moved forward ever so slightly.

Before Anthony knew what was happening, Ian was kissing him. Thoughts raced through his head at lightning speed. Ian's kissing me. I want Ian to kiss me. I want to kiss Ian. I've always wanted to kiss Ian.

This realization hit him so hard that for half a second he was motionless. Then he kissed back, so enthusiastically that Ian moaned. Ian tangled his hands in Anthony's messy hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. This is a mistake, Anthony thought, this is a mistake, he's drunk and things will be weird tomorrow and he won't ever want to be your friend again but he couldn't stop himself from sliding his hands under Ian's shirt, feeling the warm skin, greedily running his fingers over Ian's torso and his chest.

"Anthony," Ian murmured between kisses. "I… I…" he paused, kissed him again. "I…"

"Yeah?" Anthony urged.

"I… uh…" Ian's voice trailed off. His hands slipped from Anthony's hair and he fell back against the pillow, passed out at last.

Anthony watched him sleep, his heart pounding as his exhilaration turned to nervousness. What if Ian woke up the next morning, decided that kissing him was a mistake? Or even worse, what if he didn't remember it at all? Anthony wasn't sure he could act normal with that secret hanging over his head. And he couldn't just forget what had happened. He stared at Ian. Even passed out and disheveled, Anthony was attracted to him. How was he supposed to hide that? Oh God.

He turned over onto his side, away from Ian. By the time he fell into an uneasy sleep, the sun was beginning to rise.