Pick wakes up to his alarm and finds his arm is stuck, heavy, and it takes him a second to remember why.
Rome is curled up next to him and Pick has a moment of panic. In the night, asking Rome over, one thing leading to another, it had seemed so organic, so safe, so...necessary. But now Pick is faced with the fact that he had slept with Rome.
He had slept with a man. In the cold light of morning, it feels like he’s gone too far, like there must be consequences he was too stupid last night to foresee, like his whole identity has changed.
Rome stirs, starts to smile, all soft and content, until he sees Pick’s expression and his own turns to worry. “P’Pick? What’s wrong?” And Pick sees that panic in Rome’s eyes--not his own regret, but fear of Pick’s.
In that moment, everything changes.
Pick shakes his head with a little scowl, but then he smiles at Rome, places a kiss to Rome’s forehead, squeezes him too tight before letting go. “Nothing, Shorty. Just looking at the man I love. Why? What’s wrong with you, huh?”
Rome shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing.”