Waiting Up

When Anthony awoke the next morning it was nearly noon. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. Then the memories of last night came crashing down on him. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned.

Ian's side of the bed was empty. Anthony could hear the shower running in the bathroom. He briefly debated fleeing from the house while Ian was in there, but he'd have to face it eventually. Instead he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Ian wandered into the room just as Anthony was pouring his coffee. He was fully clothed, thankfully; Ian was never one to walk around in a towel after showering. His hair was wet and messy, though, and Anthony found it almost painfully cute. I can't live with this, he thought desperately.

"Coffee?" he said tentatively, offering a mug to Ian.

"Yes please," Ian groaned. He sat heavily on the couch, hugging his coffee to his chest. Anthony sat down beside him, his heart fluttering nervously.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Kind of shitty," Ian said, smiling weakly and setting his coffee down on the floor. He pulled his legs up onto the couch, kneeling to face Anthony. "I'm sorry about last night, man. I don't remember much." He paused. "Alright, I don't remember anything. Did you have to come get me at the bar?"

"Nah, some girl drove you home. She found you on a curb somewhere." Anthony's stomach twisted into a knot. Now it was up to him whether Ian found out or not.

"Oh god," Ian said, shaking his head. Then he grinned. "I noticed you were in my bed this morning. I didn't try anything, did I?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Anthony made a split-second decision to tell the truth. "Yeah, you did," he said.

Ian's smile disappeared, replaced by a look of dismay. "I… oh God," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, dude."

"Don't be," Anthony said softly. Ian's lack of surprise or even confusion was all the reassurance he needed. He pulled Ian's hands away from his face, leaned in, and kissed him.

Ian didn't respond, his lips frozen in place. After a few seconds, Anthony pulled away, his heat pounding so hard that he was sure Ian could hear it. Had he misjudged his reaction?

"Was… was that… okay?" he asked quietly.

"I… I…" Ian stuttered. "It was… uh…" He shook his head, refocused his eyes, and suddenly seemed to snap out of a trance. "Fuck yes!" he cried, so loud that Anthony jumped, startled. Before he could say anything, Ian grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him, hard.

Relief flooded through Anthony's body as he eagerly returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, pulling him down on top of him. Ian's tongue brushed against his own, teasing him until he couldn't help but moan.

"Fuck," Ian whispered, his eyes dark with lust. He straddled Anthony's thighs and fumbled with his belt, tugging it open.

"Moving a little fast, aren't we?" Anthony said, but he couldn't help arching up into Ian's touch.

"Fuck that," Ian panted. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" He unbuttoned Anthony's jeans, slid the zipper down.

"Oh God, Ian, can we… just… please…" Anthony gestured vaguely in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Good idea," Ian said breathlessly, biting his lip. "Your bed. Hurry!"

Anthony didn't need to be told twice.

---x---

"Oh God," Anthony panted, collapsing back against his pillow. Ian laughed, trying to catch his breath.

"That," he said, "was worth the wait."

"You're all sweaty," Anthony pointed out, grinning. "So much for that shower you took earlier."

"I guess we'll just have to take another one," Ian teased. "But not right now." He kissed Anthony softly and snuggled down beside him, his head on Anthony's chest. Anthony stroked his hair, closing his eyes contently. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Suddenly, a troublesome thought entered his mind. "What about… you know, your breakup?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, this isn't just... you know, a rebound, is it?"

"No!" Ian said fiercely, propping himself up on his elbow. "God, no! When she broke up with me last night, I was upset, but it wasn't really the breakup. I was just worried that I'd be alone forever because I couldn't get over my stupid crush on you." He smiled. "Not so stupid anymore, I guess," he said, gesturing to their naked bodies beneath the sheets.

"So you didn't even like her?"

"I did, sort of. She was sweet and pretty and funny and all that, but I would've dumped her myself if I knew I had a shot with you. I've liked you since high school, for fuck's sake."

Anthony couldn't help but grin. He kissed Ian deeply, enjoying the feeling of his lips.

"So how long has it been?" Ian asked when they pulled away.

"How long has what been?"

"You know… since you started loving me," Ian said, smirking.

Anthony rolled his eyes playfully. "Please," he scoffed. "You know I only want you for your body."

Ian laughed, but his eyes remained serious.

Anthony thought about it for a few seconds. "Three years? Maybe four?" He paused. "I can't remember..." The realization of what he was saying hit him. He took a shaky breath. "Ian," he said. "I love you."

He felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. He'd finally said it, that thing he'd been hiding from everyone – even from himself – for as long as he could remember. "I love you," he repeated, laughing giddily from sheer wonder.

Ian's face broke into a smile. Not a silly grin or a mischievous smirk, but a beautiful, genuine smile. "I love you too," he said. Anthony kissed him again, running his fingers through his still-wet hair. I'm in love with my best friend, he thought blissfully. What could possibly make this moment better?

Ian answered his unspoken question. "So," he said, grinning, "how about that shower?