Catnap
Title: Catnap
Pairings: Ian/Anthony
Rating: G
Summary: The lazy afternoon that started it all.
Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago, so that's why the writing style is kind of different from my other fics. Sorry for the sickly sweet overload of fluff (: Let me know what you think! xx
Ian woke up on the tiny couch, late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the partially open blinds. He was curled into a ball, his legs tangled up in a blanket he couldn't remember pulling over himself. The tv was on, muted, and his xbox controller lay discarded on the carpet inches away from his dangling fingers. Ian glanced around the living room/dining room/ kitchen, but he was alone. He vaguely recalled sitting down for a game of Legend of Zelda with Anthony. The house was silent except for the humming of the air conditioner, as it was late July and the weather hardly ever went below 100 degrees.
Ian forced his stiff body up from the sofa and double checked the rest of the house, even though he knew it would be empty. He wondered where the taller boy had gone off to as he returned to the couch with an orange and a bottle of aspirin. A raging headache had begun to attack his forehead, so he swallowed several of the small blue pills. Maybe a few more than was recommended, but his head was throbbing incessantly. He turned up the volume of the tv and sat flipping channels lazily as the afternoon dragged on and Anthony made no appearance. He'd left his phone lying on the coffee table, which was strange in itself; Ian never saw him without it these days. Deciding that he was probably just at the store or something, Ian brought his laptop into the living room and started working on a half-finished script for their Friday Smosh video.
He realized he must've been really tired to have fallen asleep on the couch like that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken an afternoon nap. Then again, these past few months had been really busy for him and Anthony, and he was definitely feeling the strain of running three YouTube channels and producing so many weekly series. Just then, Ian finally heard the familiar sound of the garage door sliding shut and Anthony stepped into the room. His ebony hair was windswept and messy, his gorgeous chocolate eyes shining out from underneath his side swept bangs. Ian grinned as Anthony tossed a few grocery bags on the counter and came to sit beside him.
"Hey man. You okay? You were totally knocked out when I left," he said.
"Yeah, I was just really tired. Been to the store?
"Yeah." As Anthony reached out to steal a section of orange from the table, a lightning bolt of pain stabbed through Ian's skull. He groaned and clapped a hand to his temple. His head suddenly felt so heavy that it was impossible to keep it up. He let it fall onto Anthony's nearby shoulder. Anthony stiffened but didn't pull away.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, his breath ghosting over Ian's sandy brown hair.
"Meh," Ian mumbled. Pain was radiating through his head and his eyelids were slipping shut again, thanks to the aspirin.
Anthony allowed himself a small smile. He'd been crushing on Ian for so long that hiding the little reactions and urges that flooded through him whenever he saw his best friend came second nature nowadays. But with Ian's warm face resting against the skin of his neck, his breathing slow and even over Anthony's t-shirt...it all just felt so right. Anthony was sure Ian had no idea how he felt and he'd convinced himself it was better that way. He always was good at manipulating his own thoughts.
He made sure not to do anything that would spike Ian's suspicion. No matter how much he wanted to, he never got too drunk around Ian, never walked into a room without knocking in case Ian wasn't fully dressed, never let them hug too long or sit too close together, especially late at night after long editing sessions. Those were the times when Anthony could feel himself slipping, thinking about how many particles of air were between their lips and how easy it would be to reach out, tilt Ian's perfect face up towards his and bring them together.
There were times when Anthony thought the strain of keeping his secret locked inside him would cause him to explode. Ian and him always told each other everything, at least everything important. But this was different. As long as they'd know each other, Ian had been straight as an arrow. Yeah, they were close, closer than they'd ever be with anyone else, but it would never be the way Anthony really wanted it.
Ian felt the sleep crashing down on him in insistent waves, but he struggled to remain conscious. He wanted to remember this moment, experience its splendor for as long as he could. He wasn't sure why Anthony hadn't moved his pounding head onto the back of the couch yet, but it suited him just fine. He could feel the way Anthony was purposefully slowing his breathing so as not to disturb him. And he smelled so, so good. It was a familiar smell, that Anthony smell. A mixture of laundry detergent and Old Spice and something else that reminded Ian of the way air smelled early in the morning. It was perfect. He wished he could open his eyes and gaze up into Anthony's, tell him everything he was dying to say without using any words at all. But there was too much to lose.
He could lose Smosh, his best friend and the only person he'd ever really known he'd loved before all at the same time. Plus, he'd searched Anthony's actions many times for any hint that he might feel the same way, always without luck. And Ian could hardly stand it. It was excruciating, waking up everyday in a half-empty bed with the person he wanted more than anything in the world lying in the next room. Separated by just a couple walls, both of them in various states of undress. Knowing that they'd never get closer than that was what really killed Ian. Thinking about it was tainting the shining moment, so he decided to finally succumb to the sleep, letting it wash over him as the view of the inside of his eyelids became blurred and his brain went numb.
Anthony sat there with Ian's head on his shoulder for a long time. Hours passed. He hardly moved the whole time for fear of disturbing Ian. He knew the shorter boy had fallen asleep because he'd started breathing through his mouth, sucking in quiet lungfuls of air. Even with his mouth half-open, his bowl haircut ruffled up against the fabric of Anthony's shirt, he still looked perfect, and Anthony knew he'd never stop thinking that as long as he lived. But at the moment he was refusing to let those thoughts get the best of him. Ian had dropped his head onto his shoulder, hadn't he? It wasn't everything that he wanted, but it was something.
Anthony was worried Ian would wake up and find him still sitting there. What was he going to say? Hey man, your head felt so amazing on my shoulder that I did absolutely nothing for two and a half hours just so I wouldn't have to get up? Anthony told himself he'd have to move. Then his best friend mumbled something in his sleep. His mouth barely moved, so the word was very quiet, but with their heads tilted so close together, Anthony could hear it. Ian whispered his name. "Anthony."
A rush of warmth blossomed in the dark haired boy's chest. Without thinking about it, he lifted his arm and curled it cautiously around Ian's waist. The contact shot sparks through him and he couldn't resist letting his own head rest gently on top of Ian's. They fit together so perfectly - it made Anthony want to scream. A few more minutes passed as they sat like that, their bodies melting into each other effortlessly.
But eventually Ian woke up, his breath hitching as he stuttered into consciousness. Anthony watched him carefully as his head jerked, but didn't leave his shoulder until his eyes flickered open. Bright beautiful puddles of blue. Anthony missed the warm pressure of Ian's head as soon as it was gone. Ian sat back on the couch and glanced around the room.
"Anthony, did I fall asleep again?" he asked sheepishly.
"Well, yeah..."
"On you?" Ian looked genuinely confused. Anthony nodded, grinning at his friend's expression.
"Oh shit, man, sorry," Ian said, running a hand through what had now become bed-head hair.
"I didn't mind." The words were out of Anthony's mouth before he could think twice. He only watched Ian's reaction for a second before closing his eyes and carefully leaning his forehead against his best friend's. Why he was choosing this moment ruin everything, he didn't know. He simply knew he had to tell Ian right now, because this was the only time that it could ever be right.
"Look, Ian. There's something I've been wanting to say," Anthony muttered, forcing himself to keep his face right up against Ian's so he wouldn't chicken out. He kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to worry about eye contact.
Ian had stopped breathing entirely. Anthony's lips were so close, pink and just a little chapped. He could practically taste them already. His still sleep-clouded mind was forming a few basic thoughts, questions as to what the hell Anthony was about to tell him. He knew what he wanted to hear. Maybe...no. No, there is no way he is going to confess his love for you, Ian told himself. You'll never have him, so just give it up. But then why, Ian wondered, was Anthony's forehead leaning up against his own, which still ached dully.
"Ian..." Anthony was almost cringing with reluctance, the bridge of his nose crinkling like it did when he was about to sit down for a long editing session.
"Just spit it out, Ant," Ian said, his voice hoarse. He didn't think he could take one more second of this suspense.
"I'm kinda..I'm kinda in love with you."
The words left Anthony's mouth exactly how Ian had imagined hearing them for as long as he could remember. Anthony's eyes finally opened, wide with apprehension and shining with hope. Ian didn't know what to say, didn't know how to properly express how perfect this feeling was. Knowing that all along, through all those nights of feeling so alone, through all those fights and awkward moments and days he would've sworn he didn't know Anthony at all anymore, his best friend had loved him back. Loved him enough to come right out and say it, which was more than Ian could say for himself. He knew he just didn't have the balls.
But right now, with nothing between them but the cool afternoon air, their electric gazes burning into each other, Ian felt more confident than ever. All he could think about was closing the gap. So he did, brushing his lips lightly against Anthony's. Anthony held still for a fraction of a second before kissing him back, his hand finding its way to Ian's shoulder and gripping it like he needed something to keep him from drifting off into nothingness.
They kissed surprisingly slowly for two people that'd been lusting after each other for years. Anthony's tongue gently brushed against Ian's bottom lip and then it was in his mouth, running across the back of Ian's teeth and Anthony tasted just as good as he smelled. Ian was so lost in the feeling of their mouths moving together in synchronization that he barely noticed when Anthony lay back on the couch and pulled him on top of him, supporting his entire weight easily.
Anthony could hardly believe this was happening. It was all playing out exactly like a daydream, except for instead of imaging and wishing to be feeling Ian's body against his own, he actually was. He pulled back from Ian's mouth to see his face, his hands strategically placed on Ian's lower back and curving around his hips. Ian smiled as Anthony leaned in to resume kissing him. There was no need for words between them. Everything that needed to be said had been and Anthony could think of nothing that would make this afternoon more perfect.
Pairings: Ian/Anthony
Rating: G
Summary: The lazy afternoon that started it all.
Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago, so that's why the writing style is kind of different from my other fics. Sorry for the sickly sweet overload of fluff (: Let me know what you think! xx
Ian woke up on the tiny couch, late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the partially open blinds. He was curled into a ball, his legs tangled up in a blanket he couldn't remember pulling over himself. The tv was on, muted, and his xbox controller lay discarded on the carpet inches away from his dangling fingers. Ian glanced around the living room/dining room/ kitchen, but he was alone. He vaguely recalled sitting down for a game of Legend of Zelda with Anthony. The house was silent except for the humming of the air conditioner, as it was late July and the weather hardly ever went below 100 degrees.
Ian forced his stiff body up from the sofa and double checked the rest of the house, even though he knew it would be empty. He wondered where the taller boy had gone off to as he returned to the couch with an orange and a bottle of aspirin. A raging headache had begun to attack his forehead, so he swallowed several of the small blue pills. Maybe a few more than was recommended, but his head was throbbing incessantly. He turned up the volume of the tv and sat flipping channels lazily as the afternoon dragged on and Anthony made no appearance. He'd left his phone lying on the coffee table, which was strange in itself; Ian never saw him without it these days. Deciding that he was probably just at the store or something, Ian brought his laptop into the living room and started working on a half-finished script for their Friday Smosh video.
He realized he must've been really tired to have fallen asleep on the couch like that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken an afternoon nap. Then again, these past few months had been really busy for him and Anthony, and he was definitely feeling the strain of running three YouTube channels and producing so many weekly series. Just then, Ian finally heard the familiar sound of the garage door sliding shut and Anthony stepped into the room. His ebony hair was windswept and messy, his gorgeous chocolate eyes shining out from underneath his side swept bangs. Ian grinned as Anthony tossed a few grocery bags on the counter and came to sit beside him.
"Hey man. You okay? You were totally knocked out when I left," he said.
"Yeah, I was just really tired. Been to the store?
"Yeah." As Anthony reached out to steal a section of orange from the table, a lightning bolt of pain stabbed through Ian's skull. He groaned and clapped a hand to his temple. His head suddenly felt so heavy that it was impossible to keep it up. He let it fall onto Anthony's nearby shoulder. Anthony stiffened but didn't pull away.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, his breath ghosting over Ian's sandy brown hair.
"Meh," Ian mumbled. Pain was radiating through his head and his eyelids were slipping shut again, thanks to the aspirin.
Anthony allowed himself a small smile. He'd been crushing on Ian for so long that hiding the little reactions and urges that flooded through him whenever he saw his best friend came second nature nowadays. But with Ian's warm face resting against the skin of his neck, his breathing slow and even over Anthony's t-shirt...it all just felt so right. Anthony was sure Ian had no idea how he felt and he'd convinced himself it was better that way. He always was good at manipulating his own thoughts.
He made sure not to do anything that would spike Ian's suspicion. No matter how much he wanted to, he never got too drunk around Ian, never walked into a room without knocking in case Ian wasn't fully dressed, never let them hug too long or sit too close together, especially late at night after long editing sessions. Those were the times when Anthony could feel himself slipping, thinking about how many particles of air were between their lips and how easy it would be to reach out, tilt Ian's perfect face up towards his and bring them together.
There were times when Anthony thought the strain of keeping his secret locked inside him would cause him to explode. Ian and him always told each other everything, at least everything important. But this was different. As long as they'd know each other, Ian had been straight as an arrow. Yeah, they were close, closer than they'd ever be with anyone else, but it would never be the way Anthony really wanted it.
Ian felt the sleep crashing down on him in insistent waves, but he struggled to remain conscious. He wanted to remember this moment, experience its splendor for as long as he could. He wasn't sure why Anthony hadn't moved his pounding head onto the back of the couch yet, but it suited him just fine. He could feel the way Anthony was purposefully slowing his breathing so as not to disturb him. And he smelled so, so good. It was a familiar smell, that Anthony smell. A mixture of laundry detergent and Old Spice and something else that reminded Ian of the way air smelled early in the morning. It was perfect. He wished he could open his eyes and gaze up into Anthony's, tell him everything he was dying to say without using any words at all. But there was too much to lose.
He could lose Smosh, his best friend and the only person he'd ever really known he'd loved before all at the same time. Plus, he'd searched Anthony's actions many times for any hint that he might feel the same way, always without luck. And Ian could hardly stand it. It was excruciating, waking up everyday in a half-empty bed with the person he wanted more than anything in the world lying in the next room. Separated by just a couple walls, both of them in various states of undress. Knowing that they'd never get closer than that was what really killed Ian. Thinking about it was tainting the shining moment, so he decided to finally succumb to the sleep, letting it wash over him as the view of the inside of his eyelids became blurred and his brain went numb.
Anthony sat there with Ian's head on his shoulder for a long time. Hours passed. He hardly moved the whole time for fear of disturbing Ian. He knew the shorter boy had fallen asleep because he'd started breathing through his mouth, sucking in quiet lungfuls of air. Even with his mouth half-open, his bowl haircut ruffled up against the fabric of Anthony's shirt, he still looked perfect, and Anthony knew he'd never stop thinking that as long as he lived. But at the moment he was refusing to let those thoughts get the best of him. Ian had dropped his head onto his shoulder, hadn't he? It wasn't everything that he wanted, but it was something.
Anthony was worried Ian would wake up and find him still sitting there. What was he going to say? Hey man, your head felt so amazing on my shoulder that I did absolutely nothing for two and a half hours just so I wouldn't have to get up? Anthony told himself he'd have to move. Then his best friend mumbled something in his sleep. His mouth barely moved, so the word was very quiet, but with their heads tilted so close together, Anthony could hear it. Ian whispered his name. "Anthony."
A rush of warmth blossomed in the dark haired boy's chest. Without thinking about it, he lifted his arm and curled it cautiously around Ian's waist. The contact shot sparks through him and he couldn't resist letting his own head rest gently on top of Ian's. They fit together so perfectly - it made Anthony want to scream. A few more minutes passed as they sat like that, their bodies melting into each other effortlessly.
But eventually Ian woke up, his breath hitching as he stuttered into consciousness. Anthony watched him carefully as his head jerked, but didn't leave his shoulder until his eyes flickered open. Bright beautiful puddles of blue. Anthony missed the warm pressure of Ian's head as soon as it was gone. Ian sat back on the couch and glanced around the room.
"Anthony, did I fall asleep again?" he asked sheepishly.
"Well, yeah..."
"On you?" Ian looked genuinely confused. Anthony nodded, grinning at his friend's expression.
"Oh shit, man, sorry," Ian said, running a hand through what had now become bed-head hair.
"I didn't mind." The words were out of Anthony's mouth before he could think twice. He only watched Ian's reaction for a second before closing his eyes and carefully leaning his forehead against his best friend's. Why he was choosing this moment ruin everything, he didn't know. He simply knew he had to tell Ian right now, because this was the only time that it could ever be right.
"Look, Ian. There's something I've been wanting to say," Anthony muttered, forcing himself to keep his face right up against Ian's so he wouldn't chicken out. He kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to worry about eye contact.
Ian had stopped breathing entirely. Anthony's lips were so close, pink and just a little chapped. He could practically taste them already. His still sleep-clouded mind was forming a few basic thoughts, questions as to what the hell Anthony was about to tell him. He knew what he wanted to hear. Maybe...no. No, there is no way he is going to confess his love for you, Ian told himself. You'll never have him, so just give it up. But then why, Ian wondered, was Anthony's forehead leaning up against his own, which still ached dully.
"Ian..." Anthony was almost cringing with reluctance, the bridge of his nose crinkling like it did when he was about to sit down for a long editing session.
"Just spit it out, Ant," Ian said, his voice hoarse. He didn't think he could take one more second of this suspense.
"I'm kinda..I'm kinda in love with you."
The words left Anthony's mouth exactly how Ian had imagined hearing them for as long as he could remember. Anthony's eyes finally opened, wide with apprehension and shining with hope. Ian didn't know what to say, didn't know how to properly express how perfect this feeling was. Knowing that all along, through all those nights of feeling so alone, through all those fights and awkward moments and days he would've sworn he didn't know Anthony at all anymore, his best friend had loved him back. Loved him enough to come right out and say it, which was more than Ian could say for himself. He knew he just didn't have the balls.
But right now, with nothing between them but the cool afternoon air, their electric gazes burning into each other, Ian felt more confident than ever. All he could think about was closing the gap. So he did, brushing his lips lightly against Anthony's. Anthony held still for a fraction of a second before kissing him back, his hand finding its way to Ian's shoulder and gripping it like he needed something to keep him from drifting off into nothingness.
They kissed surprisingly slowly for two people that'd been lusting after each other for years. Anthony's tongue gently brushed against Ian's bottom lip and then it was in his mouth, running across the back of Ian's teeth and Anthony tasted just as good as he smelled. Ian was so lost in the feeling of their mouths moving together in synchronization that he barely noticed when Anthony lay back on the couch and pulled him on top of him, supporting his entire weight easily.
Anthony could hardly believe this was happening. It was all playing out exactly like a daydream, except for instead of imaging and wishing to be feeling Ian's body against his own, he actually was. He pulled back from Ian's mouth to see his face, his hands strategically placed on Ian's lower back and curving around his hips. Ian smiled as Anthony leaned in to resume kissing him. There was no need for words between them. Everything that needed to be said had been and Anthony could think of nothing that would make this afternoon more perfect.