holiday exchange: The Way It's Seen (In Christmas Lights)
Author: drug_bust_red
Title: The Way It's Seen (In Christmas Lights)
Rating: NC-17-ish
Pairing: Cash/Alex (Singer)
Recipient: anywhat
Summary: Cash works at the mall as an elf for the Christmas rush and thinks Singer is a totally hot perfume girl. He is not a perfume girl, but he is totally hot, so Cash taps that.
He's dressed from head to toe in red, green, and white candy stripes. His face is painted and his hat and shoes have a point on them. And the gloves are kind of half-retarded and make his hands look like a monster's compared to say, Mickey Mouse. The screaming kids are two seconds away from either being thrown down the slide back at their parents or forcefully thrown into the well twenty feet down, just over Santa's (Johnson's) gigantic throne of stars and garland and shit.
Cash hates his life.
He puts on his best elfish voice - it's something like Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka - and holds a little girl's hand and sits her on Johnson's lap. Johnson's Santa Claus voice is something not at all wizened and mythical like Cash expects Santa to sound. He just kind of sounds like the same old Johnson, which is weird. And not at all in character.
For a hundred bucks a night, Cash thinks he could do a little less, too. They're on their third straight night of this shitty deal and there's only three more weeks to go.
The whole playing-an-elf thing isn't completely retarded. Not all of it, anyway. The outfit does itch and the pushy parents are kind of ya know, pushy, but other than that. Cash likes the view he has from above a lot of the mall. Sure, there are a few stores up here, but like what he's kind of focused on is this girly Macy's type deal that brings in this chick he doesn't really have a problem staring at while she stands at the perfume counter with what seems to be a friend of hers.
It kind of makes Cash's chest warm like this holiday is supposed to, but doesn't.
And okay, Cash isn't like some pig. He has morals and all that shit, but. Long brown hair - that varies between really curly and really straight - long legs, thin waist, casual clothes. Cash might be in love. And it's only been three days. So, love at first sight happens. But still, there are morals and like principles and shit there, too.
This girl - for the past three days - has had a new shopping bag with her everytime she goes into the store for work. (Cash can only imagine with how much time she spends with the other girl that they work opposite shifts, you know, like whatever) None of the bags so far have been Hot Topic or Pay Less, so Cash is pretty sure that she's not cheap and she's not some media whored out girl who takes pictures of herself with a camera phone, edits it with photoshop, and calls herself a photographer.
The fact that she had an F.Y.E. bag with her and pulled out what seemed to be the new Killers record meant she at least had good taste in music. And it also kind of made Cash remember that he wanted to pick it up.
And then there was yesterday when she wore these high heels. Okay, they weren't like mid-90's heels that looked ya know, swell with shoulder pads and shit on independent business driven women. These were chunky, thick heels with some kind of design on the shoe... part and she walked so well in them. The black heel, her jeans. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear and it was like out of a movie. It was actually kind of retarded, as Cash's mouth actually started to water.
And today. Today, Cash realizes what a really big, pretty smile this girl has. It's all white, straight teeth and when she laughs, she bites her lip a little and Cash maybe pushes the little girl off of Johnson's lap and down the slide with more force than necessary when he hears the girl laugh.
It suggests she's got a voice like Keri Russell. Or Tara Reid. Or, like Scarlett Johansson.
"Santa's going on his lunch break," Cash announces, pulling Johnson off his high and mighty Santa chair. He whispers, "Dude, look," and points quite dramatically at the store right across from them. Johnson shrugs, but Cash pulls him to the pretzel cart nonetheless.
"Okay. That chick is fucking - holy shit," Cash manages, pushing his hat up his forehead. The bells on top of it jingle and Johnson suppresses a laugh. "Shut up," Cash spits, not looking at Johnson. "I need to talk to her, Dude. I need a date to Ian's stupid fucking thing and she has to go with me."
Cash nods like that's final. And done. And it'll happen.
Just as soon as he can stop hiding himself behind Johnson because, "Holy shit, she just looked over here."
Johnson looks, moves out of the way and pays for his pretzel. And the girl. The girl with the perfume, the heels, the Bowie t-shirt she's wearing today, she's still looking. Right at Cash, she's smiling.
She waves.
If Cash was wearing anything but this, he'd have the fucking decency, at the very least the bravery to wave back. Instead, he kind of cowers into Johnson's personal space, white beard and all and groans, because Cash hates his life.
It's just not fair that for a crappy hundred bucks, he gets to humiliate himself in front of a totally hot chick who from this far away is probably the coolest person he's never met.
-
Cash kind of hates it when Marshall is at Ian's, because all that means is he gets to listen to is how much they hate what each other is wearing and then kiss when they stare at each other for too long. It's not that the gay makes Cash squirm in his seat. He's actually had a guy friend before who ended up a little more than a guy friend, but nobody really mentions Brendon anymore. It just kind of reminds him that he doesn't have anybody but the faint image of a pretty girl in chunky, fashionable high heels dancing around to The Killers. Maybe in her underwear. Cash can't really choose, in his mind, between polka dots or stripes on her bra.
Marshall chucks a pillow at his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ian giggles in that way the makes the hairs on the back of Cash's neck stand up. This giggle, it usually means that Ian's going to tell a secret. And that's fucking so middle school.
"Cash has this thing for the perfume girl at the mall."
Marshall claps his hand over his mouth to hide his own laughing. Because, like, apparently it's funny shit when Cash likes somebody. Then he says, "Perfume girls are such bitches. And no matter how sweet the perfume smells, they always smell like whores at the end of their shift."
Cash makes a face. "You think all girls are whores."
Marshall shrugs. "True." Then, "What's her name?"
"I don't know," Cash says defeated. He slumps on the couch, lost in his thoughts. He wants to make up a name for her just so he'll know what to say when he jerks off about her. Which okay, was once. The other night. And then this morning.
Distantly, he hears Marshall tell Ian that his shoes are stupid because the laces are done up wrong. And then there's clothes rustling against clothes and Cash rolls his eyes.
"Oh my God, you're like bunnies."
So he goes home and calls Johnson.
"Her name's Cassadee," Johnson says. "I asked the pretzel guy who the perfume girl was. Her name's Cassadee. Everybody just calls her Cass."
Cash rolls the name over in his head. It's almost pretty, but not extremely girly. He actually kind of likes it. He smiles when he puts his name together with hers. He says, "Johnson, in a completely bromantic way, I love you. I love you so much."
"That's cool," Johnson says. "Are you gonna ask her to Ian's Christmas thing?"
The bottom of Cash's stomach drops out. Afterall, it's in two weeks. Just because he knows her name doesn't mean she'll say yes. Then again, he's known less about a girl and gone out with her. It can't go as badly as he's building it up in his head.
Right?
-
He can do this. It's not rocket science. It's not even science. It's just asking a girl out. It's not going to be the end of the world if she says no. It's just a pretzel. It's a walk around the mall. Nothing huge. So, then if it's not such a gigantic deal, why are his hands sweating so much? Why can he feel the rush of blood in his ears?
"Johnson, I'm gonna puke."
Johnson is pretty much the coolest person Cash has actually met and spent actual time with. Even stuffing a curly white beard into his duffel bag, Johnson has Cash beat in all kinds of cool levels and that's just not fair.
"You'll do fine. Go get 'er, tiger," Johnson says, shoving Cash forward a little. "No wait." He pulls Cash back. "You still have some face paint..." He licks his finger and smears it on Cash's cheek, rubbing off the make-up.
Cash makes a flaily gesture, red-cheeked and embarrassed. "I hate you - stop. Okay, I'm good. Johnson, I'll kill your grandmother, get off."
Johnson's looking over in the window where both girls are standing, toying with a mannequin of some sort.
Cash asks, "She didn't see that, did she? I'll really fucking murder your grandmother if she saw that."
"Nah, you're good," Johnson smiles. "Go before she leaves or something."
Cash turns and looks, whimpers. "She's wearing those shoes again."
It's been like a week since she's worn them. She's not wearing them with a hoodie this time, though. She's got on dark washed jeans with a black belt with the same design on it as the shoe and a pastel purple t-shirt. Her hair is curly today and Cash really likes that. Like, a bunch.
"Just go.
With a deep breath and scrambled words in his head, Cash goes. The walk seems shorter. He's there before he realizes it.
When he pulls the door open, both girls at the counter grab each-other's hand and make those girly squealing noises, but it's like a silent thing. So, it looks more weird. Cash pretends not to notice. He dances around making his way to the counter. He checks out random displays of make-up and like, scarves and then finally. Finally, he can't take it anymore.
He clears his throat and stops at the counter. The girl who turns to assist him isn't Cass. But, that's what her name tag says. Weird. They must have switched them up as a joke or something. Girls do that, right? They like share things like that?
Cash freaks for a second. He says, "Um. I'm looking for, uh. I'm looking for Cass...adee. I'm looking for Cassadee."
The girl points at her name tag. "At your service." Her big fat grin is too much to take.
No. No. That's not right. That's not her name. Cass is the girl with the curly hair and the heels and. Oh shit. Fucking Johnson and mixing shit up. And. No, this isn't the girl Cash wants to talk to. As a last resort, maybe.
Cash rubs the back of his neck. "I must have confused something along the way. Wow, sorry. I was actually wondering if I could talk to her." He points at who Johnson said was Cass. The girl with her back turned to Cash, her shoulders kind of tense up.
The real Cass says, "Who? Alex?"
Cash nods, shrugs a little bit. "Alex?"
Alex turns around and oh. Oh. Alex isn't a chick at all. Alex is in fact a very, very hot dude. Okay. Okay. That's not really anything to get worked up over. Although, Cash feels his face heat up. He smiles in what he hopes is an apologetic way.
Alex says, "You thought I was Cass?" He snorts and glances in Cass's direction. "That's fucking cruel, man." To which he is then slapped in the arm by Cass. But really, nobody seems offended by any of this. Which is cool.
Before he can stop himself, Cash asks, "You wear high heels?"
Alex and Cass are still staring each other down and Alex nods. He turns to look at Cash, eyes dark and alive, green. Really, really green. "Yeah, and?"
"Oh," Cash stumbles over himself. "No - I. That's not - That's totally your decision, dude. They - they make your legs look good, if that, like helps at all."
Alex bites his lip on a smile. He bows his head to look at his feet and then back up at Cash, still smiling. "It does. What's your name?"
-
After the whole fucking, like, laughfest Johnson has over the fact that Alex is a guy, everybody seems to settle into Cash still being completely enamored with him. Like, seriously. He still might be in love. It was still love at first sight. Because, Alex is still pretty hot.
Also, Alex is kind of a make out slut, which, ya know, is fine by Cash, because it feels like it's been forever since he's actually kissed anybody. So when he invites Alex over to his (parent's) house for a movie and whatever, and they end up making out in his room, he's not complaining.
Not when Alex swings one leg over Cash's waist, and runs his tongue over Cash's bottom lip. There's this arch in Alex's back that leaves Cash's fingers trailing it like a hike for his hands. Alex shivers when Cash slips his fingers up inside the material of the shirt.
"Cash," Alex says in a whisper. He smiles against Cash's neck. "Too far North."
It kind of doesn't actually register, because when somebody says North, Cash thinks North Pole, and that makes him think of Santa Claus, which is kind of making him think of Johnson right now. And no. That's not good.
And, oh. Oh.
Cash breathes, "Oh. You mean..."
Yeah, Cash can do that. He's like, way more ready to do that after a few gropey make-out dates after he found out he had a lot more in common with Alex than he actually did with Ian or Johnson. Like soul mates or something, seriously.
Cash has gotten used to and really likes the idea that Alex is a guy. He's not all soft. It's fucking broad daylight with the blinds open on the second floor, in his room, so all the slopes and hard lines of Alex's body, they're all just right there for Cash to look at and have all for himself. This, this kind of makes his mouth water.
He can't really remember how they both got their pants off, but like. He's not about to complain. Especially if it means he can see Alex start to sweat in more places than one. Especially if it means that their skin is going to run together and feel like that.
Cash kisses Alex slowly, just because he can, fingers fumbling down Alex's stomach, tracing his hip for a second, fingers curling around the bone and squeezing, before taking Alex into his hand and they both need to break off the kiss at the feel of it. Cash's mouth open against Alex's shoulder. And Alex's mouth panting into Cash's ear. After a few dry strokes, Cash quickly spits into his hand and Alex throws his head back against the pillow, hair everywhere, smelling like some girly holiday scent, like pumpkin pie or something. Cash kisses a wet, sloppy line along Alex's neck, just to see if he tastes like pumpkin pie, too.
Close enough.
Alex breathes these gorgeous whimpers against Cash's ear. It's all choked off and raspy, he says, "Cash, please. Please."
Stupidly, Cash's like, "What?"
Alex's hips twitch upward with Cash's thumb working on the head of his dick. He manages to say, "I really wanna suck - I want. I want, Cash. Please?"
It's like. Okay, that is really enough to make Cash just come right there on the spot, but the thought of Alex's mouth, Cash rutting against his hip, it's like, a way better proposal than anything Cash has ever heard. In his life. Ever.
Alex stills Cash's hand and gives him a small almost smile. "Okay?"
Cash nods. Alex is like, really good at this and it makes Cash jealous to know that there had to be other guys that he was doing this to before him, but whatever. That's not even the point. The point is, Alex's mouth is warm and it's skilled, okay? And everything down to the way Alex's eyelashes flutter but he manages to keep his eyes on Cash's, to the way his hair tickles Cash's legs, it's all kind of perfect.
And Cash lets it slip, just as Alex moans around his dick, he comes. He let's it slip, the, "I love you, Alex," just sort of pours out of his mouth.
And it wasn't supposed to. He opens his eyes and Alex is wiping his mouth and his opposite hand on the sheets and looking at Cash like he actually heard what was said.
"Cash you don't have to -"
Alex stands up, pulling his jeans back up, slipping his shirt on, and apparently, he'd dodging out the window, because that's where he's headed. Cash wraps the sheet around his hips, because he has a little modesty, no matter what Johnson says, and he holds Alex's wrist.
"Cash, what?"
Cash takes a deep breath. "Dude, maybe. Maybe I meant it. Maybe I'm really falling for you. You wouldn't know. You don't live in my head. I like you. I really, really like you."
Alex isn't pulling away, so Cash steps a little closer, the sheet sliding against the carpet, feet shuffling. He lets go of Alex's wrist and pushes his hair out of his face.
"I want you to come to Ian's party bullshit thing with me. I want you to wear whatever you want and I want everybody there to be jealous of me. Alex, please try and actually believe that I might be falling in love with your high heel-wearing, Brandon Flowers-loving little face, okay?"
Alex shakes his head, but he's smiling. And that's a start. The beginning. Because, really, Cash doesn't want to see something bright like that ever die out. Even after Ian's party is over, and he doesn't have to stand around in an elf suit at the mall.
Because under the glare of Christmas lights, at the mall of all places, Cash found happiness and doesn't really actually hate his life after all.
Title: The Way It's Seen (In Christmas Lights)
Rating: NC-17-ish
Pairing: Cash/Alex (Singer)
Recipient: anywhat
Summary: Cash works at the mall as an elf for the Christmas rush and thinks Singer is a totally hot perfume girl. He is not a perfume girl, but he is totally hot, so Cash taps that.
He's dressed from head to toe in red, green, and white candy stripes. His face is painted and his hat and shoes have a point on them. And the gloves are kind of half-retarded and make his hands look like a monster's compared to say, Mickey Mouse. The screaming kids are two seconds away from either being thrown down the slide back at their parents or forcefully thrown into the well twenty feet down, just over Santa's (Johnson's) gigantic throne of stars and garland and shit.
Cash hates his life.
He puts on his best elfish voice - it's something like Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka - and holds a little girl's hand and sits her on Johnson's lap. Johnson's Santa Claus voice is something not at all wizened and mythical like Cash expects Santa to sound. He just kind of sounds like the same old Johnson, which is weird. And not at all in character.
For a hundred bucks a night, Cash thinks he could do a little less, too. They're on their third straight night of this shitty deal and there's only three more weeks to go.
The whole playing-an-elf thing isn't completely retarded. Not all of it, anyway. The outfit does itch and the pushy parents are kind of ya know, pushy, but other than that. Cash likes the view he has from above a lot of the mall. Sure, there are a few stores up here, but like what he's kind of focused on is this girly Macy's type deal that brings in this chick he doesn't really have a problem staring at while she stands at the perfume counter with what seems to be a friend of hers.
It kind of makes Cash's chest warm like this holiday is supposed to, but doesn't.
And okay, Cash isn't like some pig. He has morals and all that shit, but. Long brown hair - that varies between really curly and really straight - long legs, thin waist, casual clothes. Cash might be in love. And it's only been three days. So, love at first sight happens. But still, there are morals and like principles and shit there, too.
This girl - for the past three days - has had a new shopping bag with her everytime she goes into the store for work. (Cash can only imagine with how much time she spends with the other girl that they work opposite shifts, you know, like whatever) None of the bags so far have been Hot Topic or Pay Less, so Cash is pretty sure that she's not cheap and she's not some media whored out girl who takes pictures of herself with a camera phone, edits it with photoshop, and calls herself a photographer.
The fact that she had an F.Y.E. bag with her and pulled out what seemed to be the new Killers record meant she at least had good taste in music. And it also kind of made Cash remember that he wanted to pick it up.
And then there was yesterday when she wore these high heels. Okay, they weren't like mid-90's heels that looked ya know, swell with shoulder pads and shit on independent business driven women. These were chunky, thick heels with some kind of design on the shoe... part and she walked so well in them. The black heel, her jeans. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear and it was like out of a movie. It was actually kind of retarded, as Cash's mouth actually started to water.
And today. Today, Cash realizes what a really big, pretty smile this girl has. It's all white, straight teeth and when she laughs, she bites her lip a little and Cash maybe pushes the little girl off of Johnson's lap and down the slide with more force than necessary when he hears the girl laugh.
It suggests she's got a voice like Keri Russell. Or Tara Reid. Or, like Scarlett Johansson.
"Santa's going on his lunch break," Cash announces, pulling Johnson off his high and mighty Santa chair. He whispers, "Dude, look," and points quite dramatically at the store right across from them. Johnson shrugs, but Cash pulls him to the pretzel cart nonetheless.
"Okay. That chick is fucking - holy shit," Cash manages, pushing his hat up his forehead. The bells on top of it jingle and Johnson suppresses a laugh. "Shut up," Cash spits, not looking at Johnson. "I need to talk to her, Dude. I need a date to Ian's stupid fucking thing and she has to go with me."
Cash nods like that's final. And done. And it'll happen.
Just as soon as he can stop hiding himself behind Johnson because, "Holy shit, she just looked over here."
Johnson looks, moves out of the way and pays for his pretzel. And the girl. The girl with the perfume, the heels, the Bowie t-shirt she's wearing today, she's still looking. Right at Cash, she's smiling.
She waves.
If Cash was wearing anything but this, he'd have the fucking decency, at the very least the bravery to wave back. Instead, he kind of cowers into Johnson's personal space, white beard and all and groans, because Cash hates his life.
It's just not fair that for a crappy hundred bucks, he gets to humiliate himself in front of a totally hot chick who from this far away is probably the coolest person he's never met.
-
Cash kind of hates it when Marshall is at Ian's, because all that means is he gets to listen to is how much they hate what each other is wearing and then kiss when they stare at each other for too long. It's not that the gay makes Cash squirm in his seat. He's actually had a guy friend before who ended up a little more than a guy friend, but nobody really mentions Brendon anymore. It just kind of reminds him that he doesn't have anybody but the faint image of a pretty girl in chunky, fashionable high heels dancing around to The Killers. Maybe in her underwear. Cash can't really choose, in his mind, between polka dots or stripes on her bra.
Marshall chucks a pillow at his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ian giggles in that way the makes the hairs on the back of Cash's neck stand up. This giggle, it usually means that Ian's going to tell a secret. And that's fucking so middle school.
"Cash has this thing for the perfume girl at the mall."
Marshall claps his hand over his mouth to hide his own laughing. Because, like, apparently it's funny shit when Cash likes somebody. Then he says, "Perfume girls are such bitches. And no matter how sweet the perfume smells, they always smell like whores at the end of their shift."
Cash makes a face. "You think all girls are whores."
Marshall shrugs. "True." Then, "What's her name?"
"I don't know," Cash says defeated. He slumps on the couch, lost in his thoughts. He wants to make up a name for her just so he'll know what to say when he jerks off about her. Which okay, was once. The other night. And then this morning.
Distantly, he hears Marshall tell Ian that his shoes are stupid because the laces are done up wrong. And then there's clothes rustling against clothes and Cash rolls his eyes.
"Oh my God, you're like bunnies."
So he goes home and calls Johnson.
"Her name's Cassadee," Johnson says. "I asked the pretzel guy who the perfume girl was. Her name's Cassadee. Everybody just calls her Cass."
Cash rolls the name over in his head. It's almost pretty, but not extremely girly. He actually kind of likes it. He smiles when he puts his name together with hers. He says, "Johnson, in a completely bromantic way, I love you. I love you so much."
"That's cool," Johnson says. "Are you gonna ask her to Ian's Christmas thing?"
The bottom of Cash's stomach drops out. Afterall, it's in two weeks. Just because he knows her name doesn't mean she'll say yes. Then again, he's known less about a girl and gone out with her. It can't go as badly as he's building it up in his head.
Right?
-
He can do this. It's not rocket science. It's not even science. It's just asking a girl out. It's not going to be the end of the world if she says no. It's just a pretzel. It's a walk around the mall. Nothing huge. So, then if it's not such a gigantic deal, why are his hands sweating so much? Why can he feel the rush of blood in his ears?
"Johnson, I'm gonna puke."
Johnson is pretty much the coolest person Cash has actually met and spent actual time with. Even stuffing a curly white beard into his duffel bag, Johnson has Cash beat in all kinds of cool levels and that's just not fair.
"You'll do fine. Go get 'er, tiger," Johnson says, shoving Cash forward a little. "No wait." He pulls Cash back. "You still have some face paint..." He licks his finger and smears it on Cash's cheek, rubbing off the make-up.
Cash makes a flaily gesture, red-cheeked and embarrassed. "I hate you - stop. Okay, I'm good. Johnson, I'll kill your grandmother, get off."
Johnson's looking over in the window where both girls are standing, toying with a mannequin of some sort.
Cash asks, "She didn't see that, did she? I'll really fucking murder your grandmother if she saw that."
"Nah, you're good," Johnson smiles. "Go before she leaves or something."
Cash turns and looks, whimpers. "She's wearing those shoes again."
It's been like a week since she's worn them. She's not wearing them with a hoodie this time, though. She's got on dark washed jeans with a black belt with the same design on it as the shoe and a pastel purple t-shirt. Her hair is curly today and Cash really likes that. Like, a bunch.
"Just go.
With a deep breath and scrambled words in his head, Cash goes. The walk seems shorter. He's there before he realizes it.
When he pulls the door open, both girls at the counter grab each-other's hand and make those girly squealing noises, but it's like a silent thing. So, it looks more weird. Cash pretends not to notice. He dances around making his way to the counter. He checks out random displays of make-up and like, scarves and then finally. Finally, he can't take it anymore.
He clears his throat and stops at the counter. The girl who turns to assist him isn't Cass. But, that's what her name tag says. Weird. They must have switched them up as a joke or something. Girls do that, right? They like share things like that?
Cash freaks for a second. He says, "Um. I'm looking for, uh. I'm looking for Cass...adee. I'm looking for Cassadee."
The girl points at her name tag. "At your service." Her big fat grin is too much to take.
No. No. That's not right. That's not her name. Cass is the girl with the curly hair and the heels and. Oh shit. Fucking Johnson and mixing shit up. And. No, this isn't the girl Cash wants to talk to. As a last resort, maybe.
Cash rubs the back of his neck. "I must have confused something along the way. Wow, sorry. I was actually wondering if I could talk to her." He points at who Johnson said was Cass. The girl with her back turned to Cash, her shoulders kind of tense up.
The real Cass says, "Who? Alex?"
Cash nods, shrugs a little bit. "Alex?"
Alex turns around and oh. Oh. Alex isn't a chick at all. Alex is in fact a very, very hot dude. Okay. Okay. That's not really anything to get worked up over. Although, Cash feels his face heat up. He smiles in what he hopes is an apologetic way.
Alex says, "You thought I was Cass?" He snorts and glances in Cass's direction. "That's fucking cruel, man." To which he is then slapped in the arm by Cass. But really, nobody seems offended by any of this. Which is cool.
Before he can stop himself, Cash asks, "You wear high heels?"
Alex and Cass are still staring each other down and Alex nods. He turns to look at Cash, eyes dark and alive, green. Really, really green. "Yeah, and?"
"Oh," Cash stumbles over himself. "No - I. That's not - That's totally your decision, dude. They - they make your legs look good, if that, like helps at all."
Alex bites his lip on a smile. He bows his head to look at his feet and then back up at Cash, still smiling. "It does. What's your name?"
-
After the whole fucking, like, laughfest Johnson has over the fact that Alex is a guy, everybody seems to settle into Cash still being completely enamored with him. Like, seriously. He still might be in love. It was still love at first sight. Because, Alex is still pretty hot.
Also, Alex is kind of a make out slut, which, ya know, is fine by Cash, because it feels like it's been forever since he's actually kissed anybody. So when he invites Alex over to his (parent's) house for a movie and whatever, and they end up making out in his room, he's not complaining.
Not when Alex swings one leg over Cash's waist, and runs his tongue over Cash's bottom lip. There's this arch in Alex's back that leaves Cash's fingers trailing it like a hike for his hands. Alex shivers when Cash slips his fingers up inside the material of the shirt.
"Cash," Alex says in a whisper. He smiles against Cash's neck. "Too far North."
It kind of doesn't actually register, because when somebody says North, Cash thinks North Pole, and that makes him think of Santa Claus, which is kind of making him think of Johnson right now. And no. That's not good.
And, oh. Oh.
Cash breathes, "Oh. You mean..."
Yeah, Cash can do that. He's like, way more ready to do that after a few gropey make-out dates after he found out he had a lot more in common with Alex than he actually did with Ian or Johnson. Like soul mates or something, seriously.
Cash has gotten used to and really likes the idea that Alex is a guy. He's not all soft. It's fucking broad daylight with the blinds open on the second floor, in his room, so all the slopes and hard lines of Alex's body, they're all just right there for Cash to look at and have all for himself. This, this kind of makes his mouth water.
He can't really remember how they both got their pants off, but like. He's not about to complain. Especially if it means he can see Alex start to sweat in more places than one. Especially if it means that their skin is going to run together and feel like that.
Cash kisses Alex slowly, just because he can, fingers fumbling down Alex's stomach, tracing his hip for a second, fingers curling around the bone and squeezing, before taking Alex into his hand and they both need to break off the kiss at the feel of it. Cash's mouth open against Alex's shoulder. And Alex's mouth panting into Cash's ear. After a few dry strokes, Cash quickly spits into his hand and Alex throws his head back against the pillow, hair everywhere, smelling like some girly holiday scent, like pumpkin pie or something. Cash kisses a wet, sloppy line along Alex's neck, just to see if he tastes like pumpkin pie, too.
Close enough.
Alex breathes these gorgeous whimpers against Cash's ear. It's all choked off and raspy, he says, "Cash, please. Please."
Stupidly, Cash's like, "What?"
Alex's hips twitch upward with Cash's thumb working on the head of his dick. He manages to say, "I really wanna suck - I want. I want, Cash. Please?"
It's like. Okay, that is really enough to make Cash just come right there on the spot, but the thought of Alex's mouth, Cash rutting against his hip, it's like, a way better proposal than anything Cash has ever heard. In his life. Ever.
Alex stills Cash's hand and gives him a small almost smile. "Okay?"
Cash nods. Alex is like, really good at this and it makes Cash jealous to know that there had to be other guys that he was doing this to before him, but whatever. That's not even the point. The point is, Alex's mouth is warm and it's skilled, okay? And everything down to the way Alex's eyelashes flutter but he manages to keep his eyes on Cash's, to the way his hair tickles Cash's legs, it's all kind of perfect.
And Cash lets it slip, just as Alex moans around his dick, he comes. He let's it slip, the, "I love you, Alex," just sort of pours out of his mouth.
And it wasn't supposed to. He opens his eyes and Alex is wiping his mouth and his opposite hand on the sheets and looking at Cash like he actually heard what was said.
"Cash you don't have to -"
Alex stands up, pulling his jeans back up, slipping his shirt on, and apparently, he'd dodging out the window, because that's where he's headed. Cash wraps the sheet around his hips, because he has a little modesty, no matter what Johnson says, and he holds Alex's wrist.
"Cash, what?"
Cash takes a deep breath. "Dude, maybe. Maybe I meant it. Maybe I'm really falling for you. You wouldn't know. You don't live in my head. I like you. I really, really like you."
Alex isn't pulling away, so Cash steps a little closer, the sheet sliding against the carpet, feet shuffling. He lets go of Alex's wrist and pushes his hair out of his face.
"I want you to come to Ian's party bullshit thing with me. I want you to wear whatever you want and I want everybody there to be jealous of me. Alex, please try and actually believe that I might be falling in love with your high heel-wearing, Brandon Flowers-loving little face, okay?"
Alex shakes his head, but he's smiling. And that's a start. The beginning. Because, really, Cash doesn't want to see something bright like that ever die out. Even after Ian's party is over, and he doesn't have to stand around in an elf suit at the mall.
Because under the glare of Christmas lights, at the mall of all places, Cash found happiness and doesn't really actually hate his life after all.