25. Gabe
TWENTY-FIVE
GABE
Gabe was in possession of a splint on his dominant hand, a batch of croissants from Duncan that “didn’t turn out” (Gabe was pretty sure Duncan baked them for him but didn’t want him to feel bad about eating eight giant croissants all by himself because they looked perfect), and a bright green and extremely soft Build-a-Bear frog that he and Otis were equally excited for.
He also presently had an empty house. On a Tuesday morning. Even Parker was gone, in an extremely not subtle declaration that he was going to work from the coffee shop where Gabe picked up shifts, which was located in the entrance of the warehouse building that Mac and Duncan’s art studio was in.
Gabe didn’t know when Brandon got all of his roommates’ phone numbers, but he knew they were all on a group chat without him now, for the specific purpose of talking about him.
At the moment, it was cute, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d feel that way.
Brandon’s plane got in at three a.m., and Jackson had forced him to go home and get a few hours of sleep before he came over .
He’d wanted to see Brandon the second his body crossed over the state line, but he had to admit that sleeping through the night was a priority. Wyatt was serious about it, and he had apparently been an EMT at one point.
By seven, Gabe hadn’t been able to stay in bed any longer, stiff and achy, and twiddled his thumbs as his roommates got ready for their days and conspicuously left the house. Then, finally, Brandon’s car pulled up in front of his house.
Brandon, who sent him flowers every day he was gone.
Brandon, who made sure Gabe’s bank account would survive the time he had to take off work.
Brandon, who listened to him cry when Gabe realized he needed to withdraw from his classes, because between the concussion and the broken hand, finishing his semester would be impossible. Brandon, who wasn’t his boyfriend.
Gabe didn’t fucking care anymore. Here, in this moment, the word that described what they were to each other didn’t matter as much as what they actually were to each other.
Gabe watched out the front window as Brandon grabbed a full grocery bag from his back seat, along with more flowers—roses this time, red ones—trying to balance it all in his hands and also fix his hair at the same time, self-conscious until he caught Gabe’s eye through the window, the curtains parted enough for Gabe to spy on him.
He beamed when he saw Gabe, which was such a departure from the way his roommates had been looking at him.
He felt like everyone’s patient lately, being offered pain meds and fluids and favors.
Knowing that if he didn’t text the group chat about the nap he was taking, he’d get woken up four times by people looking for him to make sure he was okay.
Brandon’s excitement was a sharp contrast, and Gabe needed it.
Gabe rushed to rip the door open, and Brandon dumped his armload of stuff on the porch so he could bundle Gabe into a hug. A very careful hug.
“Are you okay?” Brandon asked, like something might have changed in the past eight hours.
“I’m fine,” Gabe said, which was a lie. His body still ached, his hand throbbed, he was heartbroken because of his broken hand, and he was spiraling over his jobs and school.
The only good recent news was that he didn’t need surgery.
But Brandon was here, so everything felt good for the first time since he left.
The cold winter air finally bit through his hoodie, straight to his bones, and he pulled Brandon inside.
“I brought breakfast,” Brandon said, holding up the grocery bag. He looked awkward and a bit scared, his square face sweet and kind. He was everything Gabe had been craving over the past four days.
And fuck it. If Gabe was the person Brandon was going to be putting in all this effort for—making his living room look like a funeral home, for one thing—then why the fuck was Gabe still holding on to the idea that he wouldn’t be a special first kiss for Brandon?
At some point, that rationale stopped making sense. Maybe it never made sense.
Brandon set the paper bag down on the kitchen table, and Gabe pressed him against the archway between the living room and kitchen.
He wanted to hold on to Brandon’s coat tight enough that he’d never pull away, but since his grip strength wasn’t at its best, he held Brandon still with his left hand on his cheek and went up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.
Brandon’s lips stayed still for one moment too long, as Gabe’s mind ran through every potentiality of rejection in that moment.
And then Brandon’s hands cupped his face so gently, and Gabe pulled away to look him in the eye.
Brandon smiled like he couldn’t believe it, then leaned back in to kiss Gabe again.
Gabe didn’t expect finesse or technique, but he was surprised by the emotion, how powerful this kiss felt, even though it stayed light.
When it was over, Gabe stayed close, unwilling to put so much as an inch between the two of them.
“Holy fuck,” Brandon said, a smile on his face. “My heart is beating so fast.” He took Gabe’s good hand and pressed it over his heart before bringing his fingers up to his lips to give them a kiss. Then he did the same, with an unnecessary level of caution, to his right hand.
Gabe let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for months and unzipped Brandon’s coat, tucking himself against Brandon’s body, stealing the body heat his coat had trapped.
He buried his face against Brandon’s chest, between Brandon’s shirt and the soft inside lining of his coat.
They should get a coat they could share so Gabe never had to let go.
Under his ear, Brandon’s heart was racing.
Brandon had a hand on the back of his head and one between his shoulder blades, holding on to him as desperately as Gabe was holding on.
“Did you know that before Jackson and Ryan became official, they were hooking up for ‘good luck’?” Brandon asked.
Gabe laughed. “That’s so dumb.”
“Yeah. And then they had a conversation about it, and apparently that is the method they recommend.”
It was too late to temper his hopes. Gabe wanted it all, and if Brandon wasn’t setting this up to tell him that he had feelings for him, then what was the point of all of this?
This was not friendship. It was not just sending someone you like money, or erotic drawings and sexy photos.
At some point during fall semester, Brandon had become the first person he texted.
The person he was always thinking about when scrolling memes.
The last person on his mind before he fell asleep.
“Do you want to have a conversation?” Gabe asked, reluctantly pulling himself out of the shelter of Brandon’s big coat.
Brandon nodded, chewing his lip. He was nervous, and that filled Gabe with way too much hope.
“Be my boyfriend,” Gabe said, hoping to hell that he was sparing Brandon the effort of mustering the bravery to ask and not plummeting them into the most awkward possible breakfast date in the history of the world.
“Really?” Brandon asked, as much hope on his face as was in Gabe’s heart. He looked young with hope. Brandon always looked so fucking genuine, and it really did something for Gabe. “I had a whole speech planned out.”
“You can still give it.”
“It was about how much I care about you, and how my feelings toward you are more than friends, and how I feel fucking lost without you. I love you.”
This time when Gabe kissed him, he was done being soft and sweet.
They’d gotten Brandon’s first kiss out of the way, and Gabe hoped it felt special to Brandon because it was fucking special to him.
Brandon’s hands gripped his hips gently, letting Gabe be in charge of their kiss.
It was a little wet, and Brandon kept smiling too much, but those were champagne problems as far as Gabe was concerned.
When he pulled back, he was smiling as much as Brandon was. “I love you too. ”
Brandon pulled him back into another kiss, and Gabe let himself disappear into it, into the feeling of Brandon’s body against his own.
“Let’s take your coat off,” Gabe said after getting his fill of kisses, lips buzzing from use. “Stay a while.”
Brandon directed Gabe to sit at the kitchen table as he emptied the grocery bag.
It was from the fancy grocery store—not the one Gabe worked at—that had a deli and a hot bar, and a lot of breakfast options, it seemed.
Gabe picked a breakfast sandwich as Brandon pulled out precut fruit (like a rich person) and several different canned coffee drinks.
He must have spent upwards of sixty dollars on all the food in that bag.
Gabe nearly proposed to him when he pulled the final item out of the bag. Cat treats. Not just any cat treats. Otis’ favorite.
“How did you know his favorite treats?” Gabe asked as Otis left his perch on the back of the couch to come investigate the familiar bag.
“Parker,” Brandon said. “I know Otis is technically Parker’s cat and everything?—”
“But he’s my son too.” Brandon got it. Brandon got him .
Brandon handed the bag to Gabe, who refused it. “You give him the treats. It’ll endear you to him.”
Brandon sat on the chair next to Gabe, and Otis jumped into his lap, butting his head against Brandon’s hand immediately.
“Okay, buddy, hold up. Let me get it open,” Brandon said, his voice transforming into something soft and gentle. His animal voice. He ripped the top of the pouch and pulled a few treats out.
Gabe ate his sandwich because he was starving, but he still enjoyed the show as Brandon gave Otis treats, touching him so gently and backing off at any sign of annoyance or ask of space.
“You’re good with him,” Gabe said, setting half his sandwich down to reach for the container of watermelon. Brandon scratched Otis’ little cheeks, looking very much like he was enjoying himself and not just trying to kiss up to his new boyfriend by being nice to his cat.
“We never had pets growing up because Ashley is allergic. Especially to cats. So when I’d go over to a friend’s house with a cat, I’d pretty much have to strip naked in the mudroom when I got home, immediately wash my clothes, and put new clothes on.
I don’t love being so far away from her, but I don’t have to worry about triggering anaphylaxis when I’m in Minnesota, you know? It’s also why I soak up Lola so much.”
Gabe had reached his limit of being jealous of his cat and tossed a couple treats into the living room for him to chase, taking Otis’ place on Brandon’s lap.
He wrapped his bad arm around Brandon’s neck and leaned in to kiss him again.
These kisses were slow and soft, teasing, with a hint of tongue.
He nipped at Brandon’s lower lip and drank up Brandon’s groan.
These were the kinds of kisses that made him horny.
“I’m distracting you from breakfast,” Gabe said, only a little apologetic.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Aren’t hockey players always hungry?”
“Too nervous,” he admitted, taking a deep, shaky breath as he tried to hide his face against Gabe’s chest.
God, the things this man did to Gabe’s heart. He had an indescribable amount of tenderness toward Brandon, and it only grew every time he did anything .
“I really want to touch you,” Gabe whispered. A secret between them.
“I really want you to.”
“Fuck food, upstairs,” he said, fake rushing Brandon out of the kitchen.
He knew Brandon was nervous because he was new. Because everything at this point was the unknown. Gabe was nervous because Brandon meant everything to him, and he wanted it all to be perfect.