Coffee and Tea (Bret Mckenzie/Taika Waititi, RPS) R
Pairing(s) in the story: Bret Mckenzie/Taika Waititi, unrequited Bret/Jemaine and Taika/Jemaine.
Author Name/Pen Name: Lye
Author LJ Name: lye
Disclaimer: I own nothing! I wish I owned Taika, though. What fun that would be.
Title of story: Coffee and Tea
Rating of story: Rish
Word count of story: 3,200
Chapter: 1/1
Brief summary: Bret and Taika use each other to deal with the unattainable.
Notes: Don't really know how I feel about this one, but I'm hoping you guys like it!
It goes unspoken, this thing they share. Not for the normal reasons, of course, because neither of them as people is fundamentally worried about what is right, wrong, or shameful in the eyes of complete strangers.
They don’t talk about it because there is nothing to gain from looking their situation in face. Nothing good could possibly come from putting a name on it, or trying to figure out the mechanics. It can’t last forever, surely, but it’ll have to do until they’ve both stepped far enough back to finally move on. The problem is, as long as the other is there to keep up their end, there can be no giving up. No admission of defeat.
Beneath it all they are still just rivals, and their shared interest is, as always, completely oblivious.
---
“Tea?” Bret offers, ever the dutiful host. The mornings after almost always start this way. He’s always the first to wake, and it gives him a chance to covertly slip back into his boxer shorts and put the kettle on.
The other man offers a sleepy groan in response, still lost somewhere beneath the sheets.
Bret is tidying his bedroom, keeping his hands busy. Keeping his feet from taking him back to the bed, ensuring that he doesn’t crawl back into the situation he saw himself in the night before.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” He picks up the other mans boxers and throws them at the human shaped mass on the bed, satisfied when they land on what looks to be the head. As soon as the garment makes contact a dark arm reaches out from the depths of the sheets and the underwear disappear inside.
There is moderate shuffling, some bouncing, and a muttered ‘shit’ before the sheets are thrown back and dark, squinting eyes first meet the light of day. He groans again, before draping an arm across his eyes.
“Why don’t you ever just have coffee?” His voice is rougher than usual, he’s still half asleep.
Bret turns his back on him and swipes a hand across the dusty screen of the broken TV he’s been too lazy to move from his room. “Because, Taika, I am a tea man. Why would I need coffee if I get everything I need from tea?” he smiles good naturedly over his shoulder at his friend, who is still laying there with his arm over his eyes.
He almost suggests that Taika leave a tin of coffee at his flat for next time, but decides against it. It’s not how they operate.
They are both silent for a moment, lost in their thoughts, before Taika finally lets his arm fall and props himself up, his elbow digging into Bret’s pillow. The sheet falls and pools around his waist, unveiling a toned chest that almost always makes Bret feel a little bit inadequate.
“Come over here,” he suggests, lifting the sheet in offering.
“The tea is on,” Bret replies. He wipes his dusty hand on his boxers and leaves the room.
Taika slumps back down into the bed, running a hand over his tired face. “Okay,” he says, more to himself than to Bret, who couldn’t hear him from the kitchen anyway.
The older man collects his rumpled clothes from the floor and joins his host in the kitchen. Bret is in the corner fighting with the toaster, oblivious to his arrival until he feels a hand sliding down his bare back.
He jerks just slightly in surprise at the contact, but continues to fiddle with the toasters one setting. He can’t help but feel a little annoyed that Taika has taken it upon himself to bring last night into this morning.
“Sorry about your back,” Taika says, running his hand across pale skin, skimming over tracks of raised red flesh. “I should really invest in some nail clippers.”
Bret shrugs away from the contact, carefully avoiding his face, and grabs a mug and a tea bag before relocating to the stove.
Taika finally takes the hint and goes to sit down at the table, grabbing the newspaper and starting to flip through it quickly. He’s clearly not even reading it; he just wants something to do with his hands.
They eat their toast, Bret drinks his tea, and Taika’s foot bounces frantically as he pretends to read the paper. Bret is about to cave and suggest they go back to bed when the phone rings.
They know who it is. After all, who else could it be? Their eyes lock for a moment before Bret gets up and walks to the phone, picking it up. “Hello?” He says, and their silent prediction on who is calling is clear by the look on Bret’s face.
It is confirmed by his first true smile of the day. The one that reaches his eyes and stays there for the entire duration of the phone call, and Taika tries (though not very hard) not to eavesdrop on Bret’s end of the conversation.
When the phone clicks into the receiver, Taika looks over at him. The smile is already gone; his entire existence seems to have darkened. Bret sits back down at the table and Taika takes it upon himself to initiate some conversation.
“That was him?” He asks. Bret nods, taking a sip of his tea.
“He’s coming over in a few minutes. To practice,” Taika nods and gets up, looking around the kitchen, trying to remember if he brought a jacket last night.
“That’s right, you two leave for Edinburgh next week,” His smile looks forced as he walks over to Bret’s side of the table. “I’ll get out of your hair, which you should take a look at, by the way,” He looks as though he is about to lean down to kiss Bret goodbye, but Bret shies away just enough for Taika to recover and head straight for the door.
“Say hello to him for me,” He says, closing the door behind him. His jacket hangs forgotten on the back of the door.
Bret combs his fingers through his hair once, twice, and then retreats to the bathroom to wash away the night before.
---
While the two of them are away in Scotland making people laugh, Taika finds other uses for his time. He paints a little, because it soothes his soul. It took him putting his brush to the canvas to realize just how battered it had become as of late.
He’s not happy with burying the situation anymore. They’re not young men now, they’re grown men, and this game they’ve been playing has grown old. His biggest regret in the situation is there is nobody to blame it on. If he were feeling like being an illogical prick, he could blame the entire thing on Jemaine. He could yell at him, tell him to stop leading them both on.
He can’t, though, because it’s not Jemaine’s fault that he is both of their sun, that they are warmed by his mere existence. That just being there is essential to both of their survival. They are both stuck in the same orbit, circling him but never getting close enough. That’s what started the entire thing between them. Meeting and fucking and forgetting what they can’t have until next time.
Then he thinks about Bret, who is his rival and only ally in all of this. They have never talked about it, which is generally more Bret’s doing than Taika’s, but he doesn’t fight with him about it because it would do no good. Neither of them stands a chance, anyway.
He wonders if maybe he’s a little bit in love with Bret as well, and thinks that might be true. Maybe he is adapting. Maybe he’s finally on the verge of just giving up on Jemaine. Maybe he’s settling. He knows he could never leave Loren, because she is his best friend and the closest thing he has to a real soul mate. She is his partner in almost everything, and he thinks he might he devastated without her kind soul around. He doesn’t want to see her cry, and he certainly doesn’t want to be the cause of it.
Bret, however, is not quite as adaptable as Taika has made himself. His relationships with women are short lived and unenthusiastic, and it saddens Taika to see that, because Bret deserves a little happiness. He knows he’s certainly not giving him any, but wonders despite himself if he even could make Bret happy. Because if he could, he thinks maybe he would, because Bret is really something when he smiles.
Loren is fast asleep against him when the phone rings. He checks the clock first, twelve midnight, and reaches for the cordless phone. “Hello,” he speaks softly, trying not to wake her. Loren shifts a little but otherwise doesn’t stir.
“Kia huritau ki a koe!” Yells a voice, and despite himself Taika feels his heart warm at the sound of it. “How old are you now, forty-three?”
“Still younger than you, Jemaine,” he smiles, playing distractedly with a piece of Loren’s hair for a moment before feeling a bit guilty.
“I guess you’ve still got that going for you,” Taika hears the phone being moved to another ear, and some voices talking in the background. “Having a good birthday?” He asks.
Taika checks the clock; it’s two minutes after midnight. “Two minutes in and it’s already the best twenty-eighth birthday I’ve ever had. Loren went all out, she got me some drool and quite possibly a head cold.”
“Always outdoing the rest of us, it’s almost unfair,” Jemaine sighs.
They talk for another half an hour and Jemaine is filling him on the Fringe festival, telling him how it differs from the year before when the two of them took their own comedy show there. How the living arrangements that Flight of the Conchords were dealt turned out to be so shitty that he and Bret were staying with some friends who were also there performing.
“How’s Bret doing?” Taika asks before realizing he was even wondering.
“Sleeping under the pool table,” Jemaine laughs. “He flat out refused to share the pull out with me. I think he’s making some kind of statement about rug burn, or posture, or something. Actually I should get him up, it’s half past one already.”
“Have a good show,” Taika tells him.
“You have a good birthday,” Jemaine orders.
He turns the phone off, sets it on the night stand and kisses Loren on the top of the head. He can’t decide of he’s jealous that Bret is with Jemaine right now, or relieved that it’s not him.
---
For Bret, Edinburgh is both a blessing and a curse. At first the notion of being away with Jemaine was a welcome one, but the more time he spends with him, the heavier his heart feels. He’d forgotten how exhausting it was, this unrequited love thing. No wonder they weren’t flatting together anymore.
It only took one night in the room they had been given for Bret to realize that it wasn’t going to work. Jemaine’s bed was just a foot from his. His warm presence filled every nook and cranny of the small room. It was overwhelming, and the close proximity only drove home how unattainable his friend was. He could see him, touch him, laugh with him, but he could never have him.
It didn’t take much to convince Jemaine that they should go and crash with The Naked Samoans, friends of theirs who were also performing there. “It’ll be way better, tons more fun,” he enthuses.
It’s better than it was before, but he still feels uneasy. He can’t find a sense of comfort. He can’t decide the right distance to keep between himself and Jemaine. He tries to act natural, or his version of it. He feels wound up, very tense, and he betrays himself by simply wishing Taika were there to help him with that.
“Bret,” Jemaine’s voice wakes up from an uneasy sleep. The floor is not as comfortable as he’s making it seem. He lifts his head and it connects with the bottom of the pool table for the seventh time in as many days. Jemaine grimaces on his behalf and lays down his front so they are level.
“What time is it?” Bret grumbles and puts his face back down on the floor.
“Half past one,” He answers, picking at the carpet. “I just gave Taika his birthday phone call. We should get him something to bring back.”
Bret finds himself disappointed he didn’t get to hear their friend’s voice.
“Yeah,” he says, lifting his face again. Jemaine laughs and grabs his chin, turning his head to the side.
“You have half a beard made of rug indent,” Jemaine’s thumb grazes his cheek a few times and tries hard to pull his face away, but finds he just simply cant. Jemaine smiles at him, hand still resting on his cheek, and his heart just aches.
For the first time in forever, he thinks he might want this to end. Thinks maybe he can’t handle it like he used to.
---
Taika goes to pick them up at the airport, holding a bright green sign that reads Plight of the Camcorders and wearing a smile. They shuffle into view a few minutes after he gets there, looking tired from the trip. Jemaine gives him a warm smile and takes the sign, inspecting it. “Nice use of glitter,” he says, handing it back. Bret hangs back a little bit, and Taika notes how out of sorts he looks. He notices Bret is wearing his forgotten jacket, but doesn’t say anything.
He looks at Bret, and for the first time he’s a little mad at Jemaine for not noticing what he’s doing to them.
He drops Jemaine off at home first, since going out for drinks didn’t seem to be in the cards. Jemaine wanted to see his girlfriend and Bret just didn’t seem up to it. As soon as Jemaine is out of the car Bret relaxes, tipping his head back against the seat and promptly passing out.
Taika parks the car and Bret stirs from his sleep, blinking over at the driver’s seat. He makes no move to get out, and Taika doesn’t rush him.
“Do you have to get home?” Bret asks, looking out the front. This is how the game always starts, and Taika finds himself relieved they are still playing it.
“No, Loren’s away for the weekend.”
Silence. Bret fiddles with the lock on the door for a moment before turning to him and asking, “Do you love her?”
“As much as I can,” Taika answers, immediately and honestly.
“Do you want to come up?” He finally looks at him. His eyes are tired; his face is pale, his shoulders slouching.
“Sure,” he says, opening the door.
---
The door to Bret’s flat isn’t even closed behind them before Bret is all over him. Taika fumbles with the bag he’s holding and lets it drop to the floor after Bret grabs his head, driving their lips together. He instinctively grabs Bret by his slim hips, pushing at him until he is pinned against the counter.
Bret is moving against him, and the soft grunts and moans echoing through his ear only cause him to get more excited. They kiss frantically, tongues sliding and teeth grazing. Taika grinds against Bret, keeping him pinned against the counter and Bret’s head falls back just enough for Taika to turn his efforts on his neck. He sucks lightly, teeth grazing the skin, and Bret shivers against him. He lets out a wanton moan and Taika can’t wait anymore, he pulls back.
“Should we-” he begins his suggestion, but Bret cuts him off.
“Yeah,” he nods, breathless.
Tugging and pushing at various pieces of each others clothing, they trip and stumble from the kitchen into the bedroom. Usually there is some degree of laughter and playfulness to their actions, but Bret’s usually bright eyes are dull and focused. They managed to rid themselves of their shirts before they get to the bed.
They stand facing each other, and Taika reaches out, smoothing his hands down Bret’s chest. He runs his fingers over his collar bones, across his shoulders, down his arms. Bret watches him with dull eyes and Taika again feels a fleeting bit of anger at Jemaine.
He has to ask, “Are you okay?”
“You know,” he starts, cracking a little bit of a smile. “I don’t think I am.”
Taika’s stomach drops and something in his chest tightens and he draws Bret close, giving him a slow kiss on the lips. His apology for everything they’ve suffered together. They keep kissing, Bret’s arms hanging limply by his side.
They finally part to catch their breath, keeping their foreheads together. Bret keeps his eyes trained carefully on the ground and asks, “Do you think you love me at all?”
Taika kisses him again, pulling back only to speak against his lips. “I do,” he says, sneaking another kiss, “as much as I can.”
Bret swallows hard and nods once before kissing him again with a new vigor. There is the tiniest trace of the light back in Bret’s eyes, and Taika is relieved to see it. They shed the rest of their clothes and fall down onto the bed.
They kiss and touch and stroke and fuck, bringing each other over the edge and for the first time neither of them call out for the unwitting member of their little club.
Afterwards, they lie side by side on the bed, chests rising and falling rapidly as they fight to catch their breath. Bret swipes sweaty curls from his forehead and drops his hand to rest on Taika’s forearm.
Neither of them says anything, but something has changed.
---
The air of change hangs until the following morning. Taika wakes up and is confused at first as to where he is. A slight figure is sleeping against him, and he thinks he might be at home with Loren. It’s not until he opens his eyes to a mass of curly brown bed head he remembers he’s with Bret.
But this is wrong, because Bret is always awake and out of reach when Taika wakes up here.
He pulls his head away to sneak a look at his face, and is surprised to find Bret is awake, still hanging on to him and staring straight ahead at the wall. Bret suddenly catches his eye and gives him a smile. It is a genuine one, perhaps the first Taika has seen on him in years so he smiles in return.
“What, no tea?” Taika says, eyebrows raised.
Bret burrows his face somewhat shyly into Taika’s neck, inhaling long and hard before propping himself up so he can look down at him. “I thought I’d give coffee a try. It might be just as good, I just never wanted to give it a chance.”
He realizes with certainty that now he can make Bret happy. Now they can make each other happy.
Author Name/Pen Name: Lye
Author LJ Name: lye
Disclaimer: I own nothing! I wish I owned Taika, though. What fun that would be.
Title of story: Coffee and Tea
Rating of story: Rish
Word count of story: 3,200
Chapter: 1/1
Brief summary: Bret and Taika use each other to deal with the unattainable.
Notes: Don't really know how I feel about this one, but I'm hoping you guys like it!
It goes unspoken, this thing they share. Not for the normal reasons, of course, because neither of them as people is fundamentally worried about what is right, wrong, or shameful in the eyes of complete strangers.
They don’t talk about it because there is nothing to gain from looking their situation in face. Nothing good could possibly come from putting a name on it, or trying to figure out the mechanics. It can’t last forever, surely, but it’ll have to do until they’ve both stepped far enough back to finally move on. The problem is, as long as the other is there to keep up their end, there can be no giving up. No admission of defeat.
Beneath it all they are still just rivals, and their shared interest is, as always, completely oblivious.
---
“Tea?” Bret offers, ever the dutiful host. The mornings after almost always start this way. He’s always the first to wake, and it gives him a chance to covertly slip back into his boxer shorts and put the kettle on.
The other man offers a sleepy groan in response, still lost somewhere beneath the sheets.
Bret is tidying his bedroom, keeping his hands busy. Keeping his feet from taking him back to the bed, ensuring that he doesn’t crawl back into the situation he saw himself in the night before.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” He picks up the other mans boxers and throws them at the human shaped mass on the bed, satisfied when they land on what looks to be the head. As soon as the garment makes contact a dark arm reaches out from the depths of the sheets and the underwear disappear inside.
There is moderate shuffling, some bouncing, and a muttered ‘shit’ before the sheets are thrown back and dark, squinting eyes first meet the light of day. He groans again, before draping an arm across his eyes.
“Why don’t you ever just have coffee?” His voice is rougher than usual, he’s still half asleep.
Bret turns his back on him and swipes a hand across the dusty screen of the broken TV he’s been too lazy to move from his room. “Because, Taika, I am a tea man. Why would I need coffee if I get everything I need from tea?” he smiles good naturedly over his shoulder at his friend, who is still laying there with his arm over his eyes.
He almost suggests that Taika leave a tin of coffee at his flat for next time, but decides against it. It’s not how they operate.
They are both silent for a moment, lost in their thoughts, before Taika finally lets his arm fall and props himself up, his elbow digging into Bret’s pillow. The sheet falls and pools around his waist, unveiling a toned chest that almost always makes Bret feel a little bit inadequate.
“Come over here,” he suggests, lifting the sheet in offering.
“The tea is on,” Bret replies. He wipes his dusty hand on his boxers and leaves the room.
Taika slumps back down into the bed, running a hand over his tired face. “Okay,” he says, more to himself than to Bret, who couldn’t hear him from the kitchen anyway.
The older man collects his rumpled clothes from the floor and joins his host in the kitchen. Bret is in the corner fighting with the toaster, oblivious to his arrival until he feels a hand sliding down his bare back.
He jerks just slightly in surprise at the contact, but continues to fiddle with the toasters one setting. He can’t help but feel a little annoyed that Taika has taken it upon himself to bring last night into this morning.
“Sorry about your back,” Taika says, running his hand across pale skin, skimming over tracks of raised red flesh. “I should really invest in some nail clippers.”
Bret shrugs away from the contact, carefully avoiding his face, and grabs a mug and a tea bag before relocating to the stove.
Taika finally takes the hint and goes to sit down at the table, grabbing the newspaper and starting to flip through it quickly. He’s clearly not even reading it; he just wants something to do with his hands.
They eat their toast, Bret drinks his tea, and Taika’s foot bounces frantically as he pretends to read the paper. Bret is about to cave and suggest they go back to bed when the phone rings.
They know who it is. After all, who else could it be? Their eyes lock for a moment before Bret gets up and walks to the phone, picking it up. “Hello?” He says, and their silent prediction on who is calling is clear by the look on Bret’s face.
It is confirmed by his first true smile of the day. The one that reaches his eyes and stays there for the entire duration of the phone call, and Taika tries (though not very hard) not to eavesdrop on Bret’s end of the conversation.
When the phone clicks into the receiver, Taika looks over at him. The smile is already gone; his entire existence seems to have darkened. Bret sits back down at the table and Taika takes it upon himself to initiate some conversation.
“That was him?” He asks. Bret nods, taking a sip of his tea.
“He’s coming over in a few minutes. To practice,” Taika nods and gets up, looking around the kitchen, trying to remember if he brought a jacket last night.
“That’s right, you two leave for Edinburgh next week,” His smile looks forced as he walks over to Bret’s side of the table. “I’ll get out of your hair, which you should take a look at, by the way,” He looks as though he is about to lean down to kiss Bret goodbye, but Bret shies away just enough for Taika to recover and head straight for the door.
“Say hello to him for me,” He says, closing the door behind him. His jacket hangs forgotten on the back of the door.
Bret combs his fingers through his hair once, twice, and then retreats to the bathroom to wash away the night before.
---
While the two of them are away in Scotland making people laugh, Taika finds other uses for his time. He paints a little, because it soothes his soul. It took him putting his brush to the canvas to realize just how battered it had become as of late.
He’s not happy with burying the situation anymore. They’re not young men now, they’re grown men, and this game they’ve been playing has grown old. His biggest regret in the situation is there is nobody to blame it on. If he were feeling like being an illogical prick, he could blame the entire thing on Jemaine. He could yell at him, tell him to stop leading them both on.
He can’t, though, because it’s not Jemaine’s fault that he is both of their sun, that they are warmed by his mere existence. That just being there is essential to both of their survival. They are both stuck in the same orbit, circling him but never getting close enough. That’s what started the entire thing between them. Meeting and fucking and forgetting what they can’t have until next time.
Then he thinks about Bret, who is his rival and only ally in all of this. They have never talked about it, which is generally more Bret’s doing than Taika’s, but he doesn’t fight with him about it because it would do no good. Neither of them stands a chance, anyway.
He wonders if maybe he’s a little bit in love with Bret as well, and thinks that might be true. Maybe he is adapting. Maybe he’s finally on the verge of just giving up on Jemaine. Maybe he’s settling. He knows he could never leave Loren, because she is his best friend and the closest thing he has to a real soul mate. She is his partner in almost everything, and he thinks he might he devastated without her kind soul around. He doesn’t want to see her cry, and he certainly doesn’t want to be the cause of it.
Bret, however, is not quite as adaptable as Taika has made himself. His relationships with women are short lived and unenthusiastic, and it saddens Taika to see that, because Bret deserves a little happiness. He knows he’s certainly not giving him any, but wonders despite himself if he even could make Bret happy. Because if he could, he thinks maybe he would, because Bret is really something when he smiles.
Loren is fast asleep against him when the phone rings. He checks the clock first, twelve midnight, and reaches for the cordless phone. “Hello,” he speaks softly, trying not to wake her. Loren shifts a little but otherwise doesn’t stir.
“Kia huritau ki a koe!” Yells a voice, and despite himself Taika feels his heart warm at the sound of it. “How old are you now, forty-three?”
“Still younger than you, Jemaine,” he smiles, playing distractedly with a piece of Loren’s hair for a moment before feeling a bit guilty.
“I guess you’ve still got that going for you,” Taika hears the phone being moved to another ear, and some voices talking in the background. “Having a good birthday?” He asks.
Taika checks the clock; it’s two minutes after midnight. “Two minutes in and it’s already the best twenty-eighth birthday I’ve ever had. Loren went all out, she got me some drool and quite possibly a head cold.”
“Always outdoing the rest of us, it’s almost unfair,” Jemaine sighs.
They talk for another half an hour and Jemaine is filling him on the Fringe festival, telling him how it differs from the year before when the two of them took their own comedy show there. How the living arrangements that Flight of the Conchords were dealt turned out to be so shitty that he and Bret were staying with some friends who were also there performing.
“How’s Bret doing?” Taika asks before realizing he was even wondering.
“Sleeping under the pool table,” Jemaine laughs. “He flat out refused to share the pull out with me. I think he’s making some kind of statement about rug burn, or posture, or something. Actually I should get him up, it’s half past one already.”
“Have a good show,” Taika tells him.
“You have a good birthday,” Jemaine orders.
He turns the phone off, sets it on the night stand and kisses Loren on the top of the head. He can’t decide of he’s jealous that Bret is with Jemaine right now, or relieved that it’s not him.
---
For Bret, Edinburgh is both a blessing and a curse. At first the notion of being away with Jemaine was a welcome one, but the more time he spends with him, the heavier his heart feels. He’d forgotten how exhausting it was, this unrequited love thing. No wonder they weren’t flatting together anymore.
It only took one night in the room they had been given for Bret to realize that it wasn’t going to work. Jemaine’s bed was just a foot from his. His warm presence filled every nook and cranny of the small room. It was overwhelming, and the close proximity only drove home how unattainable his friend was. He could see him, touch him, laugh with him, but he could never have him.
It didn’t take much to convince Jemaine that they should go and crash with The Naked Samoans, friends of theirs who were also performing there. “It’ll be way better, tons more fun,” he enthuses.
It’s better than it was before, but he still feels uneasy. He can’t find a sense of comfort. He can’t decide the right distance to keep between himself and Jemaine. He tries to act natural, or his version of it. He feels wound up, very tense, and he betrays himself by simply wishing Taika were there to help him with that.
“Bret,” Jemaine’s voice wakes up from an uneasy sleep. The floor is not as comfortable as he’s making it seem. He lifts his head and it connects with the bottom of the pool table for the seventh time in as many days. Jemaine grimaces on his behalf and lays down his front so they are level.
“What time is it?” Bret grumbles and puts his face back down on the floor.
“Half past one,” He answers, picking at the carpet. “I just gave Taika his birthday phone call. We should get him something to bring back.”
Bret finds himself disappointed he didn’t get to hear their friend’s voice.
“Yeah,” he says, lifting his face again. Jemaine laughs and grabs his chin, turning his head to the side.
“You have half a beard made of rug indent,” Jemaine’s thumb grazes his cheek a few times and tries hard to pull his face away, but finds he just simply cant. Jemaine smiles at him, hand still resting on his cheek, and his heart just aches.
For the first time in forever, he thinks he might want this to end. Thinks maybe he can’t handle it like he used to.
---
Taika goes to pick them up at the airport, holding a bright green sign that reads Plight of the Camcorders and wearing a smile. They shuffle into view a few minutes after he gets there, looking tired from the trip. Jemaine gives him a warm smile and takes the sign, inspecting it. “Nice use of glitter,” he says, handing it back. Bret hangs back a little bit, and Taika notes how out of sorts he looks. He notices Bret is wearing his forgotten jacket, but doesn’t say anything.
He looks at Bret, and for the first time he’s a little mad at Jemaine for not noticing what he’s doing to them.
He drops Jemaine off at home first, since going out for drinks didn’t seem to be in the cards. Jemaine wanted to see his girlfriend and Bret just didn’t seem up to it. As soon as Jemaine is out of the car Bret relaxes, tipping his head back against the seat and promptly passing out.
Taika parks the car and Bret stirs from his sleep, blinking over at the driver’s seat. He makes no move to get out, and Taika doesn’t rush him.
“Do you have to get home?” Bret asks, looking out the front. This is how the game always starts, and Taika finds himself relieved they are still playing it.
“No, Loren’s away for the weekend.”
Silence. Bret fiddles with the lock on the door for a moment before turning to him and asking, “Do you love her?”
“As much as I can,” Taika answers, immediately and honestly.
“Do you want to come up?” He finally looks at him. His eyes are tired; his face is pale, his shoulders slouching.
“Sure,” he says, opening the door.
---
The door to Bret’s flat isn’t even closed behind them before Bret is all over him. Taika fumbles with the bag he’s holding and lets it drop to the floor after Bret grabs his head, driving their lips together. He instinctively grabs Bret by his slim hips, pushing at him until he is pinned against the counter.
Bret is moving against him, and the soft grunts and moans echoing through his ear only cause him to get more excited. They kiss frantically, tongues sliding and teeth grazing. Taika grinds against Bret, keeping him pinned against the counter and Bret’s head falls back just enough for Taika to turn his efforts on his neck. He sucks lightly, teeth grazing the skin, and Bret shivers against him. He lets out a wanton moan and Taika can’t wait anymore, he pulls back.
“Should we-” he begins his suggestion, but Bret cuts him off.
“Yeah,” he nods, breathless.
Tugging and pushing at various pieces of each others clothing, they trip and stumble from the kitchen into the bedroom. Usually there is some degree of laughter and playfulness to their actions, but Bret’s usually bright eyes are dull and focused. They managed to rid themselves of their shirts before they get to the bed.
They stand facing each other, and Taika reaches out, smoothing his hands down Bret’s chest. He runs his fingers over his collar bones, across his shoulders, down his arms. Bret watches him with dull eyes and Taika again feels a fleeting bit of anger at Jemaine.
He has to ask, “Are you okay?”
“You know,” he starts, cracking a little bit of a smile. “I don’t think I am.”
Taika’s stomach drops and something in his chest tightens and he draws Bret close, giving him a slow kiss on the lips. His apology for everything they’ve suffered together. They keep kissing, Bret’s arms hanging limply by his side.
They finally part to catch their breath, keeping their foreheads together. Bret keeps his eyes trained carefully on the ground and asks, “Do you think you love me at all?”
Taika kisses him again, pulling back only to speak against his lips. “I do,” he says, sneaking another kiss, “as much as I can.”
Bret swallows hard and nods once before kissing him again with a new vigor. There is the tiniest trace of the light back in Bret’s eyes, and Taika is relieved to see it. They shed the rest of their clothes and fall down onto the bed.
They kiss and touch and stroke and fuck, bringing each other over the edge and for the first time neither of them call out for the unwitting member of their little club.
Afterwards, they lie side by side on the bed, chests rising and falling rapidly as they fight to catch their breath. Bret swipes sweaty curls from his forehead and drops his hand to rest on Taika’s forearm.
Neither of them says anything, but something has changed.
---
The air of change hangs until the following morning. Taika wakes up and is confused at first as to where he is. A slight figure is sleeping against him, and he thinks he might be at home with Loren. It’s not until he opens his eyes to a mass of curly brown bed head he remembers he’s with Bret.
But this is wrong, because Bret is always awake and out of reach when Taika wakes up here.
He pulls his head away to sneak a look at his face, and is surprised to find Bret is awake, still hanging on to him and staring straight ahead at the wall. Bret suddenly catches his eye and gives him a smile. It is a genuine one, perhaps the first Taika has seen on him in years so he smiles in return.
“What, no tea?” Taika says, eyebrows raised.
Bret burrows his face somewhat shyly into Taika’s neck, inhaling long and hard before propping himself up so he can look down at him. “I thought I’d give coffee a try. It might be just as good, I just never wanted to give it a chance.”
He realizes with certainty that now he can make Bret happy. Now they can make each other happy.