dinosaur seeks mate: or, a lesson in getting the guy, by dustin moskovitz
summary: for this prompt at the kinkmeme. a high school chris/dustin and mark/eduardo au in which dustin puts out a craigslist ad for a roommate and chris, out of the goodness of his heart, decides to move in with him.
warnings: um. sex. and also fluff. warnings for the obscene amount of SAP in this thing. (it's like being slapped in the face with a doughnut after writing still another day, basically.)
word count: 5,556. i don't even. okay.
a/n: I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF COHERENT PLOT. i apologize so very much.
Dustin doesn’t really need that many friends in order to be happy.
He’s got Chris and Mark and Eduardo, and they’re enough for him. (They’re the Fab Four, after all.) He’s never really understood people that have loads of so-called friends, loads of people that they claim to be really close to; he’s got enough trouble with the three of them.
(Eduardo’s got a lot of friends. Eduardo doesn’t always sit with them, moves around, talking to Billy or Christy or Erica, and Dustin watches Mark watch him with a sinking feeling in his chest.)
His friends mean the world to him; he’d do anything for them, as cliché as it sounds.
He thinks they’d do the same for him.
No, scratch that. He knows they’d do the same for him. Because that’s who they are - the Fab Four, best friends until the end of everything.
At least, he hopes.
Because college is soon and he looks at all of them, at lunch, and can’t help but feel a pang in his heart.
He knows that you’re not supposed to keep the friends that you have in high school - he knows that most people move on and forget each other.
But, well, Dustin doesn’t have that many friends.
(Shouldn’t I get to keep the few that I have?)
*
He’s lying on the grass, with Chris.
It’s something Chris likes to do, now - Eduardo’s fondness for the sky and its various elements ended in too many trips outside, during rainstorms and snowstorms and times like now, when the sky is fairly clear.
The point is, it’s relaxing, and Chris’s eyes are closed, and Dustin’s head is turned toward him.
They’re breathing slowly, deeply - it’s the beginning of fall, the beginning of their last year, just before winter comes.
“Chris?” he breathes out.
Chris turns to look at him, and smiles. “Yeah?”
“Promise we’ll stay friends,” and it’s a stereotypically teenager thing to say - what the girl says to her boyfriend before he leaves and she finds someone perfect, always, but he means it, needs to know that he’s not the only one scared out of his mind.
Chris half-frowns, and nods, reaching over to grab Dustin’s hand, squeezing once before letting his grip slacken. “Of course.”
Dustin frowns, and he feels jumpy in his skin, needing to be sure, needing - something. “Don’t say that just because I want you to. Do you mean it?”
Chris looks at him properly now, rolls over to his side, propping himself up on an arm. He’s stupidly attractive, and Dustin can’t breathe. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” and it feels honest.
Dustin turns back over, stares at the stars, and smiles. “Good,” he says, and the air is still around them.
It’s a long time before Chris returns to his position on his back.
They lie there for a long while, not speaking, just breathing. It’s tense but in the best way - like the calm before a storm, he thinks, before snorting, soft. Chris turns to look at him, at that, and the tension dissipates but the feeling of more lingers.
It’s the beginning of the end, Dustin thinks, but everything doesn’t have to be awful.
*
The problem with being in high school, Dustin thinks, is that no one believes you when you say you're in love with your best friend.
(Of course, there are a thousand problems with the "love" concept (namely, the being in love with Chris bit), but that's beside the point.)
Adults seem to think they have a monopoly on the idea of love - as though once you turn a certain age, twenty-five or so, you're that much more likely to feel things that you just can't feel when you're younger than that.
The skyrocketing divorce rate seems to negate those claims, but still they're made, time after time, and Dustin's left - well, fuck, pining over Chris.
(He doesn't like to admit that he's pining, because - well, he does talk to Chris, at least. They're best friends for a reason.
Whether they date or not, Dustin knows, that isn't changing.)
Sometimes, Chris smiles at him and Dustin grins back, absolutely helpless with his feelings. He’s a girl about him, that’s what Mark tells him, but Mark can’t even accept that he’s in love with Eduardo, so. At least Dustin’s man enough to figure out that he wants to bone his best friend.
(His incredibly straight best friend, he reminds himself, but - well, sometimes Chris looks at guys and Dustin has to wonder if he’s as straight as he seems.
He wonders, though, more, if he’s just projecting his want onto him.
And so he stays quiet.)
*
It’s actually sickening, the way Mark and Eduardo stare at each other.
Wardo’s always touching Mark in a way Mark won’t allow anyone else to - a hand on his shoulder, around his waist, gripping his wrist.
Mark shuts his eyes, sometimes, and he misses the looks Wardo gives him - full of longing, and want, and something Dustin likes to think is love.
It makes his heart hurt, to look at them, because neither of them are going to say something to the other and - well, fuck, they’re young, they should be taking chances and doing whatever the fuck they want.
(He thinks things like that and he looks at Chris and he knows exactly how they feel.
But Chris isn’t gay and Dustin isn’t, either, really, but he knows that he wants, more than he should.)
*
“Hey.”
Dustin turns, raising an eyebrow at Chris, grabbing his books out of his locker. “Yeah?” He slams it shut, turning to face him properly.
Chris walks next to him, doesn’t say anything, small smile gracing his face.
Dustin bumps their shoulders together. “What is it?”
Chris half-turns. “I - you know - I’m gay.”
Dustin turns to him. They’re in a crowded hallway and Chris looks like Dustin’s going to punch him and - he doesn’t know what to say.
He grins. “Thanks for telling me.”
Chris frowns. “I know this is - I don’t know, different. If you don’t want to - you know, spend the night with me anymore -”
And Dustin’s almost affronted that Chris would think so little of him. “Listen,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care. I mean - I care, obviously, but you’re the same person.” He grins. “Thank you for telling me, it means a lot, but you don’t have to worry.”
Chris blinks at him. “Really?”
Dustin nods.
(It’s times like these that he really loves Chris.)
*
Things don’t change, or anything.
Dustin won’t let them.
He talks to Chris exactly the same and he tries not to look at him differently, tries not to think he likes boys what if he liked me - because he’s Dustin, gangly and too uncomfortable in his skin - and Chris is Chris, suave and smooth whenever he talks to fucking anyone.
(And Dustin’s - well, he’s his best friend but nothing more, and he’s content with that.)
The only thing that makes him sad - is, well, that before there wasn’t a chance that Chris would want him, seeing as Dustin doesn’t have a vagina.
But now - now, he knows what Chris likes, knows that Chris might want him, if not for his Dustin-ness, and it’s never been something he’s been sorry for, before.
And he isn’t, now - but he feels a sort of longing, when they lie next to each other, or when Chris smiles at him as though he puts the world together and makes it okay.
He feels a longing, a sort of hurt, but it’s almost the good kind - it almost feels like it’s worth it. This having, and not having - it’s worth it, he thinks.
*
They’re playing Mario Kart when he says it.
“I’m going to be alone forever.”
Mark raises an eyebrow, rolling his eyes at the same time. “You are not.”
“I am.” Dustin sighs, loud. “I’m going to be forever alone and I can’t get any cats because I’m allergic. I’m going to be alone and I won’t even have cats to keep me company.”
Mark snorts. “It’s probably better that you can’t get cats. Remember Angel?”
Dustin shoots him a look. Just because he couldn’t take care of a stupid fish… “You aren’t helping.”
Mark’s an asshole, and he just shrugs. “Do you want to play, or not?”
Dustin sighs, loud and long-suffering. “Sure.”
They play, and Dustin’s mind is almost off of his (stupid) crush-that’s-more-than-a-crush.
He loses, of course, and Mark turns to look at him before tossing the controller aside, scooting a bit closer. “You really aren’t going to be alone forever.”
Dustin snorts.
“I mean it.” Mark shrugs. “You’re a great guy. People like you. They - more often than not, they really do.”
The tone sounds almost wistful, and Dustin looks at him, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Mark snorts. “I’m fine.”
Dustin’s smiling, though, and he wraps his arms around Mark, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Marky-Mark, you’re going to find someone, too! You’re going to find someone to have lots and lots of pretty babies with and -”
“Dustin, get the fuck off of me!” Mark snarls, but it’s not harsh, and he’s barely pushing him away.
“You’re going to have pretty babies and I’ll be the best man and it’ll be wonderful,” Dustin half-sings, laughing, letting Mark push him away.
“You’re an idiot,” Mark says, but Dustin knows that means Thanks in Mark-speak.
(Later, just before they go to bed, Mark smiles at him, something soft, and says, “Really, though, thanks.” And that’s why they’re friends.)
*
There are some things that Dustin can’t voice to Chris. He can’t tell him that he likes guys, for whatever reason - he knows Chris will accept him no matter what, isn’t afraid of that, but he’s afraid that if he says one thing, he’ll say everything.
“I think Christy has a crush on you,” Chris says, one day, before taking a bite of his apple. He winks.
Dustin can’t breathe. “I think it’s Wardo she’s got her eye on.”
Chris laughs, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Dustin’s. “Even so, you should ask her out.”
Dustin swallows back a lump in his throat and shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Nah, I don’t think so. She isn’t my type. Hey, did you understand the Calc?”
Chris looks at him as though he’s trying to figure him out, but doesn’t say anything else, leaning in to help him.
“Thanks,” Dustin says, later, and Chris pulls away to just look at him, a soft smile on his lips.
And Dustin wants, more than he’s allowed, and looks away, at Christy.
“I really don’t think she’s interested,” is what comes out, which is stupid because now it sounds as though he has feelings for her - and, fuck, Dustin is not equipped to deal with
*
“I need a roommate,” Dustin announces to the room at large.
‘The room at large’ is only Mark, who snorts at him, spinning in a chair, waiting for his laptop to boot up. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m moving out after graduation, and I need someone to room with me.” Dustin bites his lip, finishing up his ad. “I fudged my age a bit but oh, well. I have to approve roommates, right? I can deny someone if they’re creepy-old or just plain creepy or something.”
Mark frowns. “Why don’t you ask someone you know?”
Dustin shrugs. “You’re leaving, and so is Wardo.”
“Why don’t you ask Chris?”
Dustin laughs, turning around to face him. “That’s funny.”
“I don’t see why.”
“He wouldn’t want to.”
“How do you know?”
Dustin rolls his eyes. “We’re friends, okay, but -”
“Look.” Mark wheels his way over to him, raising an eyebrow at him. “Chris is staying here and so are you. You’re really good friends, right? I say ask him. You’re going to get a lot of crazy people if you put it up there. At least this way you’ll be safe.”
Dustin half-smiles. “Are you worried about me?”
Mark smirks. “You’re more likely to get hurt. You’re the last person who’d notice if he was living with a serial killer.”
But Dustin knows what that means. He laughs. “All right, Mark.”
“Let me read your ad.”
Dustin turns the computer and Mark scans it with a raised eyebrow. He turns to Dustin. “You’re sure this is the best route to go?’
Dustin nods. “I’m not changing it.”
“It’s in all caps.”
“You’ve told me on several occasions that I yell a lot.” It’s true. Mark used to hit him every time Dustin shouted but that caused him to shout in pain and after a while he stopped.
“But it’s in all caps.” Dustin thinks Mark’s entirely too hung up on that detail.
“I’m an excited person. And I’m exciting. I want my future roommate to know that.”
Mark shakes his head. “It’s up to you.”
Dustin nods, once, and turns around to fix it, make it perfect.
And he posts it.
(Now he’s thinking about living with Chris, about Chris taking a shower where Dustin takes showers - and, fuck, okay.
Fucking Mark.)
*
Chris comes over his house, more often than Mark does. He doesn’t often spend the night but he is, now, and Dustin’s sort of freaking out (in a completely relaxed manner, of course).
Chris is at his computer while Dustin tries to muddle his way through BC Calc - he’s not sure why he doesn’t understand the fucking class, considering he loves math, but he doesn’t get it.
“Hey,” he says, looking up, but Chris doesn’t acknowledge him, staring at something on the screen with a half-smile on his face. He narrows his eyes. “Dude, if you’re watching porn…”
Chris turns to him, smiling, and Dustin remembers (a bit too late) that he forgot to close the Craigslist tab.
(Well, shit. Now Chris is going to know how pathetic he is about this whole roommate situation - and he wishes he’d tried to make it more adult, at least, per Mark’s instructions.)
He swallows, standing up, and goes behind Chris. Sure enough, there it is.
Chris half-turns to look at him. “You need a roommate?”
Shit. Abort, abort, abort. “Yes.”
“Why don’t we room together?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “You really want to?”
Chris grins. “You’re my best friend. Of course I do.”
Say something. NO. You can’t. Your parents won’t let you. “Sounds like a plan,” he half-chokes out, and Chris’ smile widens.
(He looks really nice when he smiles. Really nice. Push-him-down-on-the-bed-and-ravish-him nice.
Dustin is fucked.)
“Sounds like a plan, then,” Chris says, and Dustin really loves this idea but now he’s imagining Chris getting out of the shower, Chris sleeping, Chris - well, just living in the same space that Dustin does.
“Bathroom,” he says, loud, and nearly runs across the hall, staring at himself in the mirror.
He splashes some water on his face. It doesn’t do anything. Stupid movies, lying to me.
He hears a soft knock, and then Chris’ voice. “Dustin?”
“Yeah?” he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can.
There’s a pause, and then Chris speaks again, voice sounding choked. “If you don’t want to room with me, that’s fine. Really. I can - I don’t know. I just thought it might be fun.”
And like that, his nerves all but evaporate. Because this is Chris, Chris, who Dustin loved before he loved, who’s been his best friend since fourth grade. This is going to be fantastic.
“It will be fun,” he says, and opens the door, grinning at him. “Here, I’ve got an apartment picked out,” and he walks back into his room, opening the relevant tabs.
Chris leans over him, watching as Dustin points things out, talks to him about rent, about the relevant things.
Dustin thinks that maybe, this is going to be fantastic.
*
Mark and Eduardo help them move in, and Dustin catches Mark staring more than once.
He pulls him aside. “You should tell him,” he says.
Mark snorts. “Not happening.”
It’s the first time he’s admitted - or, at least, not denied - his feelings and Dustin laughs. He ruffles Mark’s hair, trying to be affectionate as well as comforting.
“For the record,” he says, and he tries to be serious, here, “I really think it’d go well for you, if you tried.”
Mark snorts, shaking his head. “I - there’s too much to lose,” and perhaps it’s melodramatic but Dustin gives him a hug, anyway.
Mark splutters, tries to push him off, but Dustin just holds on, hangs on to him, tight.
“I’m going to miss you,” he says, quiet and honest.
Mark snorts, but Dustin sees the appreciation behind his eyes.
He always sees it.
*
On Mark and Eduardo’s last night, they have a sleepover, of sorts.
It’s at Wardo’s house; his father’s gone and his mother’s decided to leave them alone. They sit in Wardo’s room, looking at each other.
“This is it,” Mark says, quiet, and he stares at the floor.
It feels like an ending, though Dustin knows that’s crazy - he’s going to be friends with these people for a long time. He’s always known that.
But - in looking at them, in feeling the mood shift, he swallows, has to look away, blink away what are certainly not tears, because Dustin is a man, okay.
“You guys are leaving,” he says, and these are the kids he’s grown up with - shit, he’s known Mark since third grade, the kid who somehow managed to be snarky as an adult at age eight walking in and sitting next to Dustin, full of excitement at everything (and clearly, that’s diminished quite a bit).
And then came Chris, and then Wardo - and it’s always been the four of them. Even fights never lasted long. They’re horribly codependent on each other.
“You guys are going to do awesome things,” Chris says, flashing a beautiful smile (and Dustin will never forgive himself for thinking that). “Really.”
Mark smiles, and it’s something rare, on his face. Wardo looks at him, eyes soft, and Dustin can’t look at that - because he sees too much love, there, too much that might never be articulated between them.
Thinking about that - the possibility that Eduardo and Mark may never become EduardoandMark - hurts. If anyone should make it, it’s them.
Chris catches his eye, then, giving him the smallest of head nods, and - well, Dustin’s so far gone it’s not even funny.
(No matter what Mark says, it isn’t funny.)
Their last night, then, isn’t terrible. It’s bittersweet - it’s Chris tearing up and trying to hide it, it’s Eduardo giving Dustin a hug and telling him how proud he is, it’s Mark staring at all of them and saying “We can talk on the Internet, you guys, it isn’t as though we’re going to be out of touch forever,” which is his way of saying “I love you guys,” Dustin’s sure of it.
Eduardo and Mark go up together, to Harvard, to a future that’s entirely different and entirely theirs to make, and Dustin smiles at Chris.
*
Living with Chris is terrible.
It isn’t that he’s a bad roommate, or anything - on the contrary. He’s nice and makes a shower schedule for them and puts up menus from restaurants on their fridge, and he’s so fucking polite Dustin can’t stand it.
(He knew that before, of course he did, but seeing it, like this, seeing Chris all of the time, when he first wakes up and when he can’t keep himself awake, isn’t very good for this stupid crush Dustin’s got going.)
Dustin smiles at him, sometimes, and the way that Chris looks at him hints that there might be something more to this - that Dustin isn’t alone, not entirely.
Chris smiles at him, and Dustin feels like there’s nothing bad in the world.
They play Mario Kart, most nights, and Chris kicks his ass (but Dustin totally lets him, so) and they eat pizza and it’s wonderfully easy to imagine this continuing, to imagine them never leaving each other.
“Do you ever think about the future?” Chris asks him, one night, and it’s almost like a confession, the way that he says it, soft, under his breath.
There are a thousand ways Dustin could answer that, and he settles for cocking his head, before nodding. “I do. All of the time.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. “I’m - going to go to college and choose what I want to do there. I’m going to be in a serious relationship for the rest of my life, hopefully, or at least know what it’s like to be in one for a long time. I’m going to be happy.” He says this as seriously as he can, thinking about his words before he says them.
Chris smiles. “You want to get married?” and his voice sounds almost wistful.
Dustin shrugs.
“You don’t?” The smile drops.
He bites his lip. “I don’t - it depends on who I get with, because -” and he knows Chris won’t care, but - fuck, he’s nervous - “I can’t legally marry a guy, and I might want to.”
Chris looks at him, frowning slightly, and that was so totally not what Dustin was going for. “You - are you mocking me?” he asks, soft, sounding wounded.
“What?” and Dustin snorts. “No, I’m not - I wouldn’t do that to you, Chris, you have to know that.” He reaches over, grabs Chris’ wrist, holding on for a second. “I’m just - well, I guess this is me coming out.” He laughs, shaky, and pulls away, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t - yeah.” He looks up. “What’s on TV?”
“Dustin,” and he looks at him, unwillingly. Chris’ face is unnaturally serious, and he looks like he’s trying to memorize Dustin’s features, which - well, he’s not going to think about that, okay. “You - I appreciate that you told me.”
“Of course,” Dustin breathes out. “And - I don’t’ know, I’m sorry if you’ve decided you want to move out, or something. I get it.” He does. It hurts like a bitch to say it, but he does.
Chris quirks a smile. “You forget that I like boys, too.”
“But you don’t like me.” Fuck. “I mean - I could be checking you out, now, at any time. You might not want that.” He forces a laugh.
Chris is studying him, and Dustin’s struggling not to let his panic show on his face. He’s not going to fuck this up, like this, not going to let himself ruin this beautiful situation he’s found himself in.
Chris just smiles, though, and nods. “I know. You could be.” He shrugs. “But you aren’t.”
Dustin could dispute that, but there’s something in Chris’ voice that he just doesn’t want to argue with, now. He doesn’t think he could.
He lets it drop, and settles for nudging Chris, a small smile at the corners of his lips.
Chris smiles back, and Dustin thinks he’s never been happier.
*
The really great thing about being a child of the technology generation, Dustin thinks, is how easy it is to keep in contact with people.
He and Chris and Eduardo and Mark have regular conversations over Skype - Mark and Eduardo sit on the couch and Chris and Dustin on theirs, and it feels like they’re still in contact, like they’re not separated by states.
(It may be unhealthy, to talk as much as he does to these people - but he doesn’t meet many new friends, and Chris doesn’t mind, so.)
No one’s surprised when Mark and Eduardo start dating; Eduardo tells them, voice a bit shaky, awed, he asked me out and we’re dating is that okay when Mark’s in the bathroom, and Chris squeezes Dustin’s shoulder and says yes, of course, that’s fantastic, good for you guys.
Mark refuses to make a big deal out of it but he texts Dustin, one night, says I’m really happy with him.
He deserves to be happy.
It feels like he and Chris are falling down the same path - they sit next to each other during movies and sometimes Dustin falls asleep against Chris’ shoulder, snoring softly (or so Chris tells him) and they don’t move until Dustin wakes up, later, and apologizes.
He doesn’t really mean the apologies, though, not when Chris is so fucking soft and smells so fucking good. And he doesn’t seem to mind, if the way his fingers curl around the back of Dustin’s neck is any indication.
Dustin’s happy, he thinks, and he’s eating Chinese food on his bed with Chris at his computer when he realizes it.
He smiles down into the carton and shoves more food into his mouth to keep from saying something embarrassing.
(He thinks it, though.)
*
He gets a job a month into living with Chris. He’s working at a dollar store, of all things, and he spends his time (when he isn’t doing something interesting, like stacking items) thinking about code, the code that Mark wanted him to learn and so he had, one weekend, because it was easy.
And then it’d become an itch under his skin, a need to keep coding, to do more. And now it’s what he does when he’s bored - he codes, an endless look of letters and keys that keep him from going insane, remind himself that he’s pretty fucking smart, if he does say so himself.
He gets a job, and he doesn’t get to see Chris as often - he gets home late and leaves early, and he has time to give Chris a hug, every once in a while, or eat breakfast with him.
He thinks Chris has a job, too, if the way he always seems rushed, harried, is any indication. Even when they do get to talk, Chris seems like he’s holding something back, like his mind is elsewhere.
He works late, and goes in too early, and Dustin never gets to see him anymore.
He texts Mark about it, one night, on his way home.
I think Chris is sick of me.
He gets a response but he doesn’t read it, too afraid that Mark’s going to agree.
It isn’t until the next morning that he does.
impossible. talk to him.
Dustin can’t, though. He isn’t used to being afraid, around Chris, but now he is - because Chris is Chris, endlessly intelligent and really, really attractive and would be perfect for Dustin if he weren’t so - Dustin.
He tries but he ends up spluttering things that make no sense, and Chris frowns at him and Dustin changes the subject.
It’d be easier, he thinks, if he didn’t live with Chris - but of course he does, because he was stupid and Chris was too nice.
*
They fight, occasionally.
Dustin snaps too easily, now - he’s tired, all right, and Chris is stupidly attractive and Dustin doesn’t know how to deal with all of this wanting and not having, never having.
They’re having a fight like that - they’re shouting at each other for something stupid, Dustin’s not even sure how it started, but soon they’re getting into it, throwing everything they can at each other.
“I don’t get why you’re such an asshole,” Chris tells him, “you act like a fucking child and you don’t seem to get that you can’t do that anymore. Grow up,” and Dustin recoils.
“At least I’m not a workaholic who can’t have a normal conversation anymore. I like to - to have fun, Jesus Christ. No one asked you to live here. Fuck you,” he bites out, and stomps to his room, slams his door shut.
He’s not really that angry - he doesn’t care about Chris never being there, doesn’t at all - but it’s everything else, it’s that he has all of these feelings that aren’t returned, that can’t be returned, and it’s that he knows Chris is gay but Chris doesn’t want him.
He tries to sleep. It takes him a long time.
When he wakes up, there’s a Post-It on his forehead.
I’m sorry.
He walks out of the room, still ready for a fight.
“You’re not a child,” Chris tells him, “You don’t act like one.” He pauses. “And I’m sorry,” and he pulls him into a hug, tight.
Dustin bites his lip. “You’re not a workaholic,” he tries, “or if you are it isn’t a problem?”
Chris laughs.
They’re going to be okay, Dustin thinks. And it hurts, the having-and-not-having, but it’s better than what it could be.
*
Chris catches his wrist, one evening as he’s going to bed, just as Chris is getting inside.
Dustin turns, frowning slightly. “Yeah?”
“Hey,” and Chris smiles, but it seems off, tight. “Sit with me?”
Dustin’s exhausted, but he can’t make himself say no. He smiles, despite himself. “Sure.”
There’s a half-empty box of pizza on the coffee table and they heat it up; Dustin hasn’t eaten since lunch and Chris seems happy to have something to do with his hands.
They sit in relative silence until Dustin looks at Chris.
“We haven’t talked in a long time,” he says, smiling lightly, and lets his eyes trace over his face. He’s tired, okay, he can have this, if only in his mind.
Chris shakes his head. “We haven’t.”
“How’s your… life?” Dustin asks, and winces. He hasn’t been this awkward around Chris since freshman year, and he’s had a crush the size of - something large since junior year.
Chris smiles, though, and tells him about his job, working as a pseudo-secretary - “I hate it, but it’s a job, right?” - and the awkwardness between them is gone.
They eat pizza, together, and Dustin wrinkles his nose because he’d have preferred to eat it cold, now they’ve burned it, but it’s still sort of perfect.
“I’m glad you agree to move in with me,” Chris says, soft, looking down at his plate, and then glances up, shooting a grin at Dustin. “You didn’t have to.”
Dustin smiles back. “I want you,” he says, and then as soon as he’s said it - “Shit,” and, well, there goes any chance of taking it back.
There’s a brief moment where they just stare at each other, and then Dustin’s putting his plate down, moving to stand up, to leave, do something - but he hears a soft, “What?”
He turns, looks at Chris. “I’m -” but he doesn’t get any further because holy shit Chris is kissing him. It’s just a soft press of lips at first, but when Chris pulls away Dustin shakes his head, pulls him back, hand wrapped loosely around his neck.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” he whispers, and kisses him again, hard, licking at Chris’ lower lip - and then, oh, it’s perfect, it’s Chris sighing softly and reaching up a hand to cup at Dustin’s face, it’s Chris maneuvering them so he’s above Dustin, pinning him down on the couch, hand at his waist.
Dustin lets out a gasp and moves his lips to Chris’ jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses, sucking a light bruise into his chest.
“Dustin,” he hears, hissed out between clenched teeth, and then he feels fingers at his jeans and he stiffens.
Chris takes that the wrong way, though, because he looks up at him, eyes wide, almost scared. “Is - this okay?” he asks.
He should say no, demand that they discuss this like rational adults, but Chris has his hands inches from Dustin’s cock and he’s not irrational enough to turn that down. He nods, quick, and Chris has his jeans pulled down quickly, and is wrapping his lips around his cock and - “Jesus,” he hisses out, tilting his hips up, and his eyes squeeze shut, hand finding its way into Chris’ hair, tugging a bit before he can stop himself.
He comes embarrassingly quickly, and Chris swallows, holy fuck, and Dustin drags him back up to kiss him, hard, still lethargic from the orgasm but wanting to let him know how fucking okay it was.
Chris smiles when Dustin tries to get his jeans off, but shakes his head. “Not - necessary,” he says, flushing, and then Dustin sees the dark patch.
“You - fuck,” he whispers, and has to kiss him again.
They spend the evening like that, though they do eventually move to Chris’ bed, where they exchange lazy kisses and smile at each other in the dark.
“I love you,” Chris says, sometime around two in the morning, and his eyes are wide, expressive, looking almost afraid.
Dustin smiles, and nods without knowing why. “I love you, too,” and he kisses him, fingertips at Chris’ jaw, tilting his head up.
He texts Mark in the morning, before Chris is up (and after Dustin calls out of work for the day).
holy s hit chris and I hooked up
He gets a response an hour later.
congrats. go the fuck back to sleep and for the love of god don’t give me details.
Dustin smiles.
*
Life with Chris (with Chris, he is never going to get over that) is painfully domestic.
They see each other at odd hours and they sleep in the same bed and it makes Dustin’s heart feel funny to think about it.
He’s happy.
Everything isn’t figured out, but that is.
He’s happy.
That’s enough.
warnings: um. sex. and also fluff. warnings for the obscene amount of SAP in this thing. (it's like being slapped in the face with a doughnut after writing still another day, basically.)
word count: 5,556. i don't even. okay.
a/n: I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF COHERENT PLOT. i apologize so very much.
Dustin doesn’t really need that many friends in order to be happy.
He’s got Chris and Mark and Eduardo, and they’re enough for him. (They’re the Fab Four, after all.) He’s never really understood people that have loads of so-called friends, loads of people that they claim to be really close to; he’s got enough trouble with the three of them.
(Eduardo’s got a lot of friends. Eduardo doesn’t always sit with them, moves around, talking to Billy or Christy or Erica, and Dustin watches Mark watch him with a sinking feeling in his chest.)
His friends mean the world to him; he’d do anything for them, as cliché as it sounds.
He thinks they’d do the same for him.
No, scratch that. He knows they’d do the same for him. Because that’s who they are - the Fab Four, best friends until the end of everything.
At least, he hopes.
Because college is soon and he looks at all of them, at lunch, and can’t help but feel a pang in his heart.
He knows that you’re not supposed to keep the friends that you have in high school - he knows that most people move on and forget each other.
But, well, Dustin doesn’t have that many friends.
(Shouldn’t I get to keep the few that I have?)
*
He’s lying on the grass, with Chris.
It’s something Chris likes to do, now - Eduardo’s fondness for the sky and its various elements ended in too many trips outside, during rainstorms and snowstorms and times like now, when the sky is fairly clear.
The point is, it’s relaxing, and Chris’s eyes are closed, and Dustin’s head is turned toward him.
They’re breathing slowly, deeply - it’s the beginning of fall, the beginning of their last year, just before winter comes.
“Chris?” he breathes out.
Chris turns to look at him, and smiles. “Yeah?”
“Promise we’ll stay friends,” and it’s a stereotypically teenager thing to say - what the girl says to her boyfriend before he leaves and she finds someone perfect, always, but he means it, needs to know that he’s not the only one scared out of his mind.
Chris half-frowns, and nods, reaching over to grab Dustin’s hand, squeezing once before letting his grip slacken. “Of course.”
Dustin frowns, and he feels jumpy in his skin, needing to be sure, needing - something. “Don’t say that just because I want you to. Do you mean it?”
Chris looks at him properly now, rolls over to his side, propping himself up on an arm. He’s stupidly attractive, and Dustin can’t breathe. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” and it feels honest.
Dustin turns back over, stares at the stars, and smiles. “Good,” he says, and the air is still around them.
It’s a long time before Chris returns to his position on his back.
They lie there for a long while, not speaking, just breathing. It’s tense but in the best way - like the calm before a storm, he thinks, before snorting, soft. Chris turns to look at him, at that, and the tension dissipates but the feeling of more lingers.
It’s the beginning of the end, Dustin thinks, but everything doesn’t have to be awful.
*
The problem with being in high school, Dustin thinks, is that no one believes you when you say you're in love with your best friend.
(Of course, there are a thousand problems with the "love" concept (namely, the being in love with Chris bit), but that's beside the point.)
Adults seem to think they have a monopoly on the idea of love - as though once you turn a certain age, twenty-five or so, you're that much more likely to feel things that you just can't feel when you're younger than that.
The skyrocketing divorce rate seems to negate those claims, but still they're made, time after time, and Dustin's left - well, fuck, pining over Chris.
(He doesn't like to admit that he's pining, because - well, he does talk to Chris, at least. They're best friends for a reason.
Whether they date or not, Dustin knows, that isn't changing.)
Sometimes, Chris smiles at him and Dustin grins back, absolutely helpless with his feelings. He’s a girl about him, that’s what Mark tells him, but Mark can’t even accept that he’s in love with Eduardo, so. At least Dustin’s man enough to figure out that he wants to bone his best friend.
(His incredibly straight best friend, he reminds himself, but - well, sometimes Chris looks at guys and Dustin has to wonder if he’s as straight as he seems.
He wonders, though, more, if he’s just projecting his want onto him.
And so he stays quiet.)
*
It’s actually sickening, the way Mark and Eduardo stare at each other.
Wardo’s always touching Mark in a way Mark won’t allow anyone else to - a hand on his shoulder, around his waist, gripping his wrist.
Mark shuts his eyes, sometimes, and he misses the looks Wardo gives him - full of longing, and want, and something Dustin likes to think is love.
It makes his heart hurt, to look at them, because neither of them are going to say something to the other and - well, fuck, they’re young, they should be taking chances and doing whatever the fuck they want.
(He thinks things like that and he looks at Chris and he knows exactly how they feel.
But Chris isn’t gay and Dustin isn’t, either, really, but he knows that he wants, more than he should.)
*
“Hey.”
Dustin turns, raising an eyebrow at Chris, grabbing his books out of his locker. “Yeah?” He slams it shut, turning to face him properly.
Chris walks next to him, doesn’t say anything, small smile gracing his face.
Dustin bumps their shoulders together. “What is it?”
Chris half-turns. “I - you know - I’m gay.”
Dustin turns to him. They’re in a crowded hallway and Chris looks like Dustin’s going to punch him and - he doesn’t know what to say.
He grins. “Thanks for telling me.”
Chris frowns. “I know this is - I don’t know, different. If you don’t want to - you know, spend the night with me anymore -”
And Dustin’s almost affronted that Chris would think so little of him. “Listen,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care. I mean - I care, obviously, but you’re the same person.” He grins. “Thank you for telling me, it means a lot, but you don’t have to worry.”
Chris blinks at him. “Really?”
Dustin nods.
(It’s times like these that he really loves Chris.)
*
Things don’t change, or anything.
Dustin won’t let them.
He talks to Chris exactly the same and he tries not to look at him differently, tries not to think he likes boys what if he liked me - because he’s Dustin, gangly and too uncomfortable in his skin - and Chris is Chris, suave and smooth whenever he talks to fucking anyone.
(And Dustin’s - well, he’s his best friend but nothing more, and he’s content with that.)
The only thing that makes him sad - is, well, that before there wasn’t a chance that Chris would want him, seeing as Dustin doesn’t have a vagina.
But now - now, he knows what Chris likes, knows that Chris might want him, if not for his Dustin-ness, and it’s never been something he’s been sorry for, before.
And he isn’t, now - but he feels a sort of longing, when they lie next to each other, or when Chris smiles at him as though he puts the world together and makes it okay.
He feels a longing, a sort of hurt, but it’s almost the good kind - it almost feels like it’s worth it. This having, and not having - it’s worth it, he thinks.
*
They’re playing Mario Kart when he says it.
“I’m going to be alone forever.”
Mark raises an eyebrow, rolling his eyes at the same time. “You are not.”
“I am.” Dustin sighs, loud. “I’m going to be forever alone and I can’t get any cats because I’m allergic. I’m going to be alone and I won’t even have cats to keep me company.”
Mark snorts. “It’s probably better that you can’t get cats. Remember Angel?”
Dustin shoots him a look. Just because he couldn’t take care of a stupid fish… “You aren’t helping.”
Mark’s an asshole, and he just shrugs. “Do you want to play, or not?”
Dustin sighs, loud and long-suffering. “Sure.”
They play, and Dustin’s mind is almost off of his (stupid) crush-that’s-more-than-a-crush.
He loses, of course, and Mark turns to look at him before tossing the controller aside, scooting a bit closer. “You really aren’t going to be alone forever.”
Dustin snorts.
“I mean it.” Mark shrugs. “You’re a great guy. People like you. They - more often than not, they really do.”
The tone sounds almost wistful, and Dustin looks at him, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Mark snorts. “I’m fine.”
Dustin’s smiling, though, and he wraps his arms around Mark, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Marky-Mark, you’re going to find someone, too! You’re going to find someone to have lots and lots of pretty babies with and -”
“Dustin, get the fuck off of me!” Mark snarls, but it’s not harsh, and he’s barely pushing him away.
“You’re going to have pretty babies and I’ll be the best man and it’ll be wonderful,” Dustin half-sings, laughing, letting Mark push him away.
“You’re an idiot,” Mark says, but Dustin knows that means Thanks in Mark-speak.
(Later, just before they go to bed, Mark smiles at him, something soft, and says, “Really, though, thanks.” And that’s why they’re friends.)
*
There are some things that Dustin can’t voice to Chris. He can’t tell him that he likes guys, for whatever reason - he knows Chris will accept him no matter what, isn’t afraid of that, but he’s afraid that if he says one thing, he’ll say everything.
“I think Christy has a crush on you,” Chris says, one day, before taking a bite of his apple. He winks.
Dustin can’t breathe. “I think it’s Wardo she’s got her eye on.”
Chris laughs, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Dustin’s. “Even so, you should ask her out.”
Dustin swallows back a lump in his throat and shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Nah, I don’t think so. She isn’t my type. Hey, did you understand the Calc?”
Chris looks at him as though he’s trying to figure him out, but doesn’t say anything else, leaning in to help him.
“Thanks,” Dustin says, later, and Chris pulls away to just look at him, a soft smile on his lips.
And Dustin wants, more than he’s allowed, and looks away, at Christy.
“I really don’t think she’s interested,” is what comes out, which is stupid because now it sounds as though he has feelings for her - and, fuck, Dustin is not equipped to deal with
*
“I need a roommate,” Dustin announces to the room at large.
‘The room at large’ is only Mark, who snorts at him, spinning in a chair, waiting for his laptop to boot up. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m moving out after graduation, and I need someone to room with me.” Dustin bites his lip, finishing up his ad. “I fudged my age a bit but oh, well. I have to approve roommates, right? I can deny someone if they’re creepy-old or just plain creepy or something.”
Mark frowns. “Why don’t you ask someone you know?”
Dustin shrugs. “You’re leaving, and so is Wardo.”
“Why don’t you ask Chris?”
Dustin laughs, turning around to face him. “That’s funny.”
“I don’t see why.”
“He wouldn’t want to.”
“How do you know?”
Dustin rolls his eyes. “We’re friends, okay, but -”
“Look.” Mark wheels his way over to him, raising an eyebrow at him. “Chris is staying here and so are you. You’re really good friends, right? I say ask him. You’re going to get a lot of crazy people if you put it up there. At least this way you’ll be safe.”
Dustin half-smiles. “Are you worried about me?”
Mark smirks. “You’re more likely to get hurt. You’re the last person who’d notice if he was living with a serial killer.”
But Dustin knows what that means. He laughs. “All right, Mark.”
“Let me read your ad.”
Dustin turns the computer and Mark scans it with a raised eyebrow. He turns to Dustin. “You’re sure this is the best route to go?’
Dustin nods. “I’m not changing it.”
“It’s in all caps.”
“You’ve told me on several occasions that I yell a lot.” It’s true. Mark used to hit him every time Dustin shouted but that caused him to shout in pain and after a while he stopped.
“But it’s in all caps.” Dustin thinks Mark’s entirely too hung up on that detail.
“I’m an excited person. And I’m exciting. I want my future roommate to know that.”
Mark shakes his head. “It’s up to you.”
Dustin nods, once, and turns around to fix it, make it perfect.
And he posts it.
(Now he’s thinking about living with Chris, about Chris taking a shower where Dustin takes showers - and, fuck, okay.
Fucking Mark.)
*
Chris comes over his house, more often than Mark does. He doesn’t often spend the night but he is, now, and Dustin’s sort of freaking out (in a completely relaxed manner, of course).
Chris is at his computer while Dustin tries to muddle his way through BC Calc - he’s not sure why he doesn’t understand the fucking class, considering he loves math, but he doesn’t get it.
“Hey,” he says, looking up, but Chris doesn’t acknowledge him, staring at something on the screen with a half-smile on his face. He narrows his eyes. “Dude, if you’re watching porn…”
Chris turns to him, smiling, and Dustin remembers (a bit too late) that he forgot to close the Craigslist tab.
(Well, shit. Now Chris is going to know how pathetic he is about this whole roommate situation - and he wishes he’d tried to make it more adult, at least, per Mark’s instructions.)
He swallows, standing up, and goes behind Chris. Sure enough, there it is.
Chris half-turns to look at him. “You need a roommate?”
Shit. Abort, abort, abort. “Yes.”
“Why don’t we room together?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “You really want to?”
Chris grins. “You’re my best friend. Of course I do.”
Say something. NO. You can’t. Your parents won’t let you. “Sounds like a plan,” he half-chokes out, and Chris’ smile widens.
(He looks really nice when he smiles. Really nice. Push-him-down-on-the-bed-and-ravish-him nice.
Dustin is fucked.)
“Sounds like a plan, then,” Chris says, and Dustin really loves this idea but now he’s imagining Chris getting out of the shower, Chris sleeping, Chris - well, just living in the same space that Dustin does.
“Bathroom,” he says, loud, and nearly runs across the hall, staring at himself in the mirror.
He splashes some water on his face. It doesn’t do anything. Stupid movies, lying to me.
He hears a soft knock, and then Chris’ voice. “Dustin?”
“Yeah?” he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can.
There’s a pause, and then Chris speaks again, voice sounding choked. “If you don’t want to room with me, that’s fine. Really. I can - I don’t know. I just thought it might be fun.”
And like that, his nerves all but evaporate. Because this is Chris, Chris, who Dustin loved before he loved, who’s been his best friend since fourth grade. This is going to be fantastic.
“It will be fun,” he says, and opens the door, grinning at him. “Here, I’ve got an apartment picked out,” and he walks back into his room, opening the relevant tabs.
Chris leans over him, watching as Dustin points things out, talks to him about rent, about the relevant things.
Dustin thinks that maybe, this is going to be fantastic.
*
Mark and Eduardo help them move in, and Dustin catches Mark staring more than once.
He pulls him aside. “You should tell him,” he says.
Mark snorts. “Not happening.”
It’s the first time he’s admitted - or, at least, not denied - his feelings and Dustin laughs. He ruffles Mark’s hair, trying to be affectionate as well as comforting.
“For the record,” he says, and he tries to be serious, here, “I really think it’d go well for you, if you tried.”
Mark snorts, shaking his head. “I - there’s too much to lose,” and perhaps it’s melodramatic but Dustin gives him a hug, anyway.
Mark splutters, tries to push him off, but Dustin just holds on, hangs on to him, tight.
“I’m going to miss you,” he says, quiet and honest.
Mark snorts, but Dustin sees the appreciation behind his eyes.
He always sees it.
*
On Mark and Eduardo’s last night, they have a sleepover, of sorts.
It’s at Wardo’s house; his father’s gone and his mother’s decided to leave them alone. They sit in Wardo’s room, looking at each other.
“This is it,” Mark says, quiet, and he stares at the floor.
It feels like an ending, though Dustin knows that’s crazy - he’s going to be friends with these people for a long time. He’s always known that.
But - in looking at them, in feeling the mood shift, he swallows, has to look away, blink away what are certainly not tears, because Dustin is a man, okay.
“You guys are leaving,” he says, and these are the kids he’s grown up with - shit, he’s known Mark since third grade, the kid who somehow managed to be snarky as an adult at age eight walking in and sitting next to Dustin, full of excitement at everything (and clearly, that’s diminished quite a bit).
And then came Chris, and then Wardo - and it’s always been the four of them. Even fights never lasted long. They’re horribly codependent on each other.
“You guys are going to do awesome things,” Chris says, flashing a beautiful smile (and Dustin will never forgive himself for thinking that). “Really.”
Mark smiles, and it’s something rare, on his face. Wardo looks at him, eyes soft, and Dustin can’t look at that - because he sees too much love, there, too much that might never be articulated between them.
Thinking about that - the possibility that Eduardo and Mark may never become EduardoandMark - hurts. If anyone should make it, it’s them.
Chris catches his eye, then, giving him the smallest of head nods, and - well, Dustin’s so far gone it’s not even funny.
(No matter what Mark says, it isn’t funny.)
Their last night, then, isn’t terrible. It’s bittersweet - it’s Chris tearing up and trying to hide it, it’s Eduardo giving Dustin a hug and telling him how proud he is, it’s Mark staring at all of them and saying “We can talk on the Internet, you guys, it isn’t as though we’re going to be out of touch forever,” which is his way of saying “I love you guys,” Dustin’s sure of it.
Eduardo and Mark go up together, to Harvard, to a future that’s entirely different and entirely theirs to make, and Dustin smiles at Chris.
*
Living with Chris is terrible.
It isn’t that he’s a bad roommate, or anything - on the contrary. He’s nice and makes a shower schedule for them and puts up menus from restaurants on their fridge, and he’s so fucking polite Dustin can’t stand it.
(He knew that before, of course he did, but seeing it, like this, seeing Chris all of the time, when he first wakes up and when he can’t keep himself awake, isn’t very good for this stupid crush Dustin’s got going.)
Dustin smiles at him, sometimes, and the way that Chris looks at him hints that there might be something more to this - that Dustin isn’t alone, not entirely.
Chris smiles at him, and Dustin feels like there’s nothing bad in the world.
They play Mario Kart, most nights, and Chris kicks his ass (but Dustin totally lets him, so) and they eat pizza and it’s wonderfully easy to imagine this continuing, to imagine them never leaving each other.
“Do you ever think about the future?” Chris asks him, one night, and it’s almost like a confession, the way that he says it, soft, under his breath.
There are a thousand ways Dustin could answer that, and he settles for cocking his head, before nodding. “I do. All of the time.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. “I’m - going to go to college and choose what I want to do there. I’m going to be in a serious relationship for the rest of my life, hopefully, or at least know what it’s like to be in one for a long time. I’m going to be happy.” He says this as seriously as he can, thinking about his words before he says them.
Chris smiles. “You want to get married?” and his voice sounds almost wistful.
Dustin shrugs.
“You don’t?” The smile drops.
He bites his lip. “I don’t - it depends on who I get with, because -” and he knows Chris won’t care, but - fuck, he’s nervous - “I can’t legally marry a guy, and I might want to.”
Chris looks at him, frowning slightly, and that was so totally not what Dustin was going for. “You - are you mocking me?” he asks, soft, sounding wounded.
“What?” and Dustin snorts. “No, I’m not - I wouldn’t do that to you, Chris, you have to know that.” He reaches over, grabs Chris’ wrist, holding on for a second. “I’m just - well, I guess this is me coming out.” He laughs, shaky, and pulls away, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t - yeah.” He looks up. “What’s on TV?”
“Dustin,” and he looks at him, unwillingly. Chris’ face is unnaturally serious, and he looks like he’s trying to memorize Dustin’s features, which - well, he’s not going to think about that, okay. “You - I appreciate that you told me.”
“Of course,” Dustin breathes out. “And - I don’t’ know, I’m sorry if you’ve decided you want to move out, or something. I get it.” He does. It hurts like a bitch to say it, but he does.
Chris quirks a smile. “You forget that I like boys, too.”
“But you don’t like me.” Fuck. “I mean - I could be checking you out, now, at any time. You might not want that.” He forces a laugh.
Chris is studying him, and Dustin’s struggling not to let his panic show on his face. He’s not going to fuck this up, like this, not going to let himself ruin this beautiful situation he’s found himself in.
Chris just smiles, though, and nods. “I know. You could be.” He shrugs. “But you aren’t.”
Dustin could dispute that, but there’s something in Chris’ voice that he just doesn’t want to argue with, now. He doesn’t think he could.
He lets it drop, and settles for nudging Chris, a small smile at the corners of his lips.
Chris smiles back, and Dustin thinks he’s never been happier.
*
The really great thing about being a child of the technology generation, Dustin thinks, is how easy it is to keep in contact with people.
He and Chris and Eduardo and Mark have regular conversations over Skype - Mark and Eduardo sit on the couch and Chris and Dustin on theirs, and it feels like they’re still in contact, like they’re not separated by states.
(It may be unhealthy, to talk as much as he does to these people - but he doesn’t meet many new friends, and Chris doesn’t mind, so.)
No one’s surprised when Mark and Eduardo start dating; Eduardo tells them, voice a bit shaky, awed, he asked me out and we’re dating is that okay when Mark’s in the bathroom, and Chris squeezes Dustin’s shoulder and says yes, of course, that’s fantastic, good for you guys.
Mark refuses to make a big deal out of it but he texts Dustin, one night, says I’m really happy with him.
He deserves to be happy.
It feels like he and Chris are falling down the same path - they sit next to each other during movies and sometimes Dustin falls asleep against Chris’ shoulder, snoring softly (or so Chris tells him) and they don’t move until Dustin wakes up, later, and apologizes.
He doesn’t really mean the apologies, though, not when Chris is so fucking soft and smells so fucking good. And he doesn’t seem to mind, if the way his fingers curl around the back of Dustin’s neck is any indication.
Dustin’s happy, he thinks, and he’s eating Chinese food on his bed with Chris at his computer when he realizes it.
He smiles down into the carton and shoves more food into his mouth to keep from saying something embarrassing.
(He thinks it, though.)
*
He gets a job a month into living with Chris. He’s working at a dollar store, of all things, and he spends his time (when he isn’t doing something interesting, like stacking items) thinking about code, the code that Mark wanted him to learn and so he had, one weekend, because it was easy.
And then it’d become an itch under his skin, a need to keep coding, to do more. And now it’s what he does when he’s bored - he codes, an endless look of letters and keys that keep him from going insane, remind himself that he’s pretty fucking smart, if he does say so himself.
He gets a job, and he doesn’t get to see Chris as often - he gets home late and leaves early, and he has time to give Chris a hug, every once in a while, or eat breakfast with him.
He thinks Chris has a job, too, if the way he always seems rushed, harried, is any indication. Even when they do get to talk, Chris seems like he’s holding something back, like his mind is elsewhere.
He works late, and goes in too early, and Dustin never gets to see him anymore.
He texts Mark about it, one night, on his way home.
I think Chris is sick of me.
He gets a response but he doesn’t read it, too afraid that Mark’s going to agree.
It isn’t until the next morning that he does.
impossible. talk to him.
Dustin can’t, though. He isn’t used to being afraid, around Chris, but now he is - because Chris is Chris, endlessly intelligent and really, really attractive and would be perfect for Dustin if he weren’t so - Dustin.
He tries but he ends up spluttering things that make no sense, and Chris frowns at him and Dustin changes the subject.
It’d be easier, he thinks, if he didn’t live with Chris - but of course he does, because he was stupid and Chris was too nice.
*
They fight, occasionally.
Dustin snaps too easily, now - he’s tired, all right, and Chris is stupidly attractive and Dustin doesn’t know how to deal with all of this wanting and not having, never having.
They’re having a fight like that - they’re shouting at each other for something stupid, Dustin’s not even sure how it started, but soon they’re getting into it, throwing everything they can at each other.
“I don’t get why you’re such an asshole,” Chris tells him, “you act like a fucking child and you don’t seem to get that you can’t do that anymore. Grow up,” and Dustin recoils.
“At least I’m not a workaholic who can’t have a normal conversation anymore. I like to - to have fun, Jesus Christ. No one asked you to live here. Fuck you,” he bites out, and stomps to his room, slams his door shut.
He’s not really that angry - he doesn’t care about Chris never being there, doesn’t at all - but it’s everything else, it’s that he has all of these feelings that aren’t returned, that can’t be returned, and it’s that he knows Chris is gay but Chris doesn’t want him.
He tries to sleep. It takes him a long time.
When he wakes up, there’s a Post-It on his forehead.
I’m sorry.
He walks out of the room, still ready for a fight.
“You’re not a child,” Chris tells him, “You don’t act like one.” He pauses. “And I’m sorry,” and he pulls him into a hug, tight.
Dustin bites his lip. “You’re not a workaholic,” he tries, “or if you are it isn’t a problem?”
Chris laughs.
They’re going to be okay, Dustin thinks. And it hurts, the having-and-not-having, but it’s better than what it could be.
*
Chris catches his wrist, one evening as he’s going to bed, just as Chris is getting inside.
Dustin turns, frowning slightly. “Yeah?”
“Hey,” and Chris smiles, but it seems off, tight. “Sit with me?”
Dustin’s exhausted, but he can’t make himself say no. He smiles, despite himself. “Sure.”
There’s a half-empty box of pizza on the coffee table and they heat it up; Dustin hasn’t eaten since lunch and Chris seems happy to have something to do with his hands.
They sit in relative silence until Dustin looks at Chris.
“We haven’t talked in a long time,” he says, smiling lightly, and lets his eyes trace over his face. He’s tired, okay, he can have this, if only in his mind.
Chris shakes his head. “We haven’t.”
“How’s your… life?” Dustin asks, and winces. He hasn’t been this awkward around Chris since freshman year, and he’s had a crush the size of - something large since junior year.
Chris smiles, though, and tells him about his job, working as a pseudo-secretary - “I hate it, but it’s a job, right?” - and the awkwardness between them is gone.
They eat pizza, together, and Dustin wrinkles his nose because he’d have preferred to eat it cold, now they’ve burned it, but it’s still sort of perfect.
“I’m glad you agree to move in with me,” Chris says, soft, looking down at his plate, and then glances up, shooting a grin at Dustin. “You didn’t have to.”
Dustin smiles back. “I want you,” he says, and then as soon as he’s said it - “Shit,” and, well, there goes any chance of taking it back.
There’s a brief moment where they just stare at each other, and then Dustin’s putting his plate down, moving to stand up, to leave, do something - but he hears a soft, “What?”
He turns, looks at Chris. “I’m -” but he doesn’t get any further because holy shit Chris is kissing him. It’s just a soft press of lips at first, but when Chris pulls away Dustin shakes his head, pulls him back, hand wrapped loosely around his neck.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” he whispers, and kisses him again, hard, licking at Chris’ lower lip - and then, oh, it’s perfect, it’s Chris sighing softly and reaching up a hand to cup at Dustin’s face, it’s Chris maneuvering them so he’s above Dustin, pinning him down on the couch, hand at his waist.
Dustin lets out a gasp and moves his lips to Chris’ jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses, sucking a light bruise into his chest.
“Dustin,” he hears, hissed out between clenched teeth, and then he feels fingers at his jeans and he stiffens.
Chris takes that the wrong way, though, because he looks up at him, eyes wide, almost scared. “Is - this okay?” he asks.
He should say no, demand that they discuss this like rational adults, but Chris has his hands inches from Dustin’s cock and he’s not irrational enough to turn that down. He nods, quick, and Chris has his jeans pulled down quickly, and is wrapping his lips around his cock and - “Jesus,” he hisses out, tilting his hips up, and his eyes squeeze shut, hand finding its way into Chris’ hair, tugging a bit before he can stop himself.
He comes embarrassingly quickly, and Chris swallows, holy fuck, and Dustin drags him back up to kiss him, hard, still lethargic from the orgasm but wanting to let him know how fucking okay it was.
Chris smiles when Dustin tries to get his jeans off, but shakes his head. “Not - necessary,” he says, flushing, and then Dustin sees the dark patch.
“You - fuck,” he whispers, and has to kiss him again.
They spend the evening like that, though they do eventually move to Chris’ bed, where they exchange lazy kisses and smile at each other in the dark.
“I love you,” Chris says, sometime around two in the morning, and his eyes are wide, expressive, looking almost afraid.
Dustin smiles, and nods without knowing why. “I love you, too,” and he kisses him, fingertips at Chris’ jaw, tilting his head up.
He texts Mark in the morning, before Chris is up (and after Dustin calls out of work for the day).
holy s hit chris and I hooked up
He gets a response an hour later.
congrats. go the fuck back to sleep and for the love of god don’t give me details.
Dustin smiles.
*
Life with Chris (with Chris, he is never going to get over that) is painfully domestic.
They see each other at odd hours and they sleep in the same bed and it makes Dustin’s heart feel funny to think about it.
He’s happy.
Everything isn’t figured out, but that is.
He’s happy.
That’s enough.