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(More) OffGun Ship Drabbles and Ficlets

Chapter Text

Pick has been acting weird for about a month. He keeps telling Rome that he’s at work, but Rome shows up to the clinic with food from the cafe—a perfect, innocent excuse—and Pick isn’t there.

Jay says Pick has been busy lately, that he hasn’t been around the clinic as much, but that a woman has been coming to meet him at lunch sometimes.

Jay doesn’t know about Pick and Rome, so Rome tries to keep a neutral expression and he leaves with a heavy heart.

He had really thought he and Pick would be together forever, as stupid as it is.

Instead, Pick is seeing someone else, and Rome just hopes Pick won’t try to string him along while he “figures it out” or whatever Pick is doing.

Rome isn’t going to be Pick’s backup, and he’s not going to be cheated on.

Pick had told Rome that he loved him, so how can he treat Rome this way?

Rome is lying on his bed, moping and debating on whether he should tell Emma, when his phone starts ringing and Pick is asking to meet up with him tomorrow to talk.

Rome can’t help it, his lips trembling, the tears coming, “Okay, P’Pick,” he warbles.

You… Are you okay? Are you crying?

Rome sucks in a shaky breath. “No,” he lies.

Shit. Okay. I’m coming over.


But Pick has already hung up.

Rome spends the next ten minutes trying to keep himself together but it only makes him fall apart more. He’s a complete mess by the time he hears the knock and swipes at his face, making some last ditch effort to look less pathetic, but it’s no use. He sucks in a breath and opens the door.

Pick stares at him. “Ai’Rome, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rome lies, but he changes his mind. “What did P’Pick want to talk about? Rome—” He swallows, needing to get words past the lump in his throat. “Rome stopped by the clinic and P’Jay said Pick hasn’t been in and has been meeting someone and...and P’Pick said he wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Pick freezes, panicked, and then he sighs. He grabs Rome’s hand and brings him over to sit down, finds tissues and shoves them into Rome’s free hand.

Rome doesn’t see the point, balling up the tissues in his hand instead of using them to wipe his face, so Pick pries them out of his grip with a huff and cleans up Rome’s face himself.

“Nong, it’s not what you think,” Pick says, and Rome rolls his eyes.

“P’Pick, don’t lie to Rome. I can’t,” and he doesn’t finish the sentence. It’s all he needs to say.

Pick makes a pained face, but he’s still holding Rome’s hand. “Rome, look… Look at me, okay?”

Rome closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Pick gives his hand a squeeze. “Rome.”

Rome shakes his head harder.

“Rome,” and Pick forces the words out, “I love you so much.”

They’re both quiet, other than Rome’s sniffling, for a moment, but Rome finally pulls himself together enough to look at Pick. “Rome loves P’Pick, too,” he whispers.

Pick smiles, struggles again. “The reason I lied, and the woman”—Rome tenses—“are related. It’s true. She’s a realtor. Er.” His eyes flick down. “I wanted to talk to Rome tomorrow because I wanted to ask if Rome wanted to live together.”

“What?” Rome asks, feeling whiplash.

Pick nods. “I’ve been looking at places, trying to figure out what I can afford. If… If you wanted to live together, I was going to take you to see a couple locations tomorrow to make the final decision.”

“P’Pick...wants to live with Rome?” Rome is still dazed, processing Pick's words.

Pick exhales harshly. “Uh. That’s what I just said.”

“P’Pick,” Rome whines, frowning, but his hand toys with Pick’s. “Does P’Pick mean it? P’Pick really wants to live with Rome?”

Ai’Rome,” Pick scolds, but his leg is shaking. “So?”

“Yes,” Rome says, and he kisses Pick on the cheek, the lips. “Yes. Rome wants to live with P’Pick.”

Pick lets out a sigh of relief. “Fine. That’s...fine. Acceptable.”

Rome giggles. “Very.”

Chapter Text

In order to make things a little easier, they agree to follow simple terms. Black needs a gentle hand at times, now that he’s getting treatment and Sean and White had promised that they wouldn’t fuck while he went to pick up food.

Except Black is stuck in traffic and what should’ve taken twenty minutes is going to take an hour.

White is lying in the crook of Sean’s arm and drops his phone, looks at Sean.

“We promised we wouldn’t have sex, White,” Sean says.

“So we won’t.” With that, White kisses Sean. Their lips meeting softly, parting just a little, a number of almost-chaste kisses that slowly evolve as White turns further against Sean’s body and Sean pulls White even closer than that.

White moans into the kiss, hard and rubbing against Sean’s thigh.

Sean’s hands roam down White’s back, grabbing his ass.

“Sean wants to be in White,” Sean whispers with a groan.

White nods, kisses Sean again. “I want you in me.”

Sean stops, flopping onto his back. “We promised.”

“Does just...putting it in count as sex?” White asks, blushing, but he brings himself up to a straddle over Sean.

“Sean would just be in White?” Sean confirms, knowing it’s stupid but wanting desperately to grasp onto that loophole.

White nods and strips his bottoms, Sean’s fingers are in him, then Sean is in him.

They shift slightly, trying so hard to stay true to their word. Sean pulls a blanket over them, like they’re cuddling.

Yok walks in and grimaces. “Are you two fucking?”

“No,” Sean says, willing himself not to contradict the words by thrusting up into White.

Yok frowns. “Ew. Why not?” He’s eyeing them suspiciously.

“We promised Black we wouldn’t,” White replies, but the harsh breathing and the way he doesn’t get off Sean give him away.

Yok laughs. “Right. You’re not fucking,” he agrees. He smacks his hand hard against the bed and it gives the two a little bounce, a little friction. “Shit.” Yok stares at them. “You promised?” he asks, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Okay.” He gets onto the bed.

“Ai’Yok, what are you doing?” Sean asks, but his hands are on White’s hips.

Yok rolls his eyes, but jumps once on the bed for emphasis. “I’m helping you keep your promise.”

Chapter Text

Khai’s only goal today is to make Third feel good. He’s been accused of being selfish too many times and Third’s limp hasn’t helped that part of his reputation. It’s true, after all. Khai is pretty selfish.

But Khai loves Third. A lot. And Khai doesn’t need to get anything out of making Third feel good except the satisfaction of making Third come.

So Khai is going to try something new.

He gets Third into the mood, kissing Third breathless and running teasing hands up and down Third’s thighs, and when Third is hard, hips unconsciously rubbing against him, Khai opens Third’s fly, slips a hand inside. Khai palms Third and Third whimpers, probably expects Khai to try and open him up, but Khai has no intention of fucking Third today.

Or, at least, not right now. Khai is pretty turned on, too.

But no.

He’ll make Third feel good. Without being selfish.

Khai moves down Third’s body.

“Khai, you don’t—” Third says quickly.

Khai’s mouth meets the outside of Third’s boxers, breath hot over Third’s cock and Third bucks toward him. “I don’t have to, tee rak. I want to.”

Khai finishes pulling Third free and determines his next move, tentative as he licks up Third’s length, making Third shudder.

Khai does this one more time before he engulfs the head and sucks.

Third bats at his shoulder. “Too— Too much, Khai. Gentler.”

Khai eases up, bobs his head a few times, applies lighter suction, and Third squirms, moans. Khai keeps going and Third’s hand on his shoulder grabs at his shirt. He takes Third’s hand and puts it on the back of his head and pulls up only long enough to say, “Tell me or show me, Third. I want to be good for you.” He glances up and locks eyes with Third, who is blushing and embarrassed, but who nods in understanding.

Third’s grip in Khai’s hair tenses and loosens intermittently, as if he’s afraid to really tell Khai what he wants...until Khai finds the right way to make Third’s fingers tangle tight as Third moans. Khai brings his own hand to fondle Third’s balls, the other to wrap around the rest of Third’s length.

“Khai, Khai, I’m—” Third is panting, fingers grasping even harder at Khai’s hair and Khai is so turned on, knowing Third is on the edge, and Khai works even harder, struggling to breathe, and then Third is coming, shooting into his mouth, and Khai swallows, doesn’t know what else to do.

He withdraws far enough to breathe, to gasp for breath, and Third is still wriggling, staring at Khai, looking dazed, and he looks so fucking good, Khai wants him so bad, but Khai fumbles to get himself out and is coming with barely a touch.

Does that mean it doesn’t count? That he enjoyed it too much?

Khai heaves a sigh and cleans himself up, comes back to find Third just lying there.

“That was, um. I liked it,” Third says.

Khai beams at him. “Was it really okay, tee rak? Did Khunpol do a good job?”

Third nods, frowns. “Ai’Khai, I… I didn’t know you could do that. Or that you’d be good at it.”

Khai lifts an eyebrow. “Third knows it’s not the only thing I’m good at.”

Chapter Text

The play is a success! At least so far. It’s got all the makings of success. They’ve run-through the whole thing in practice and the music works, the actors have chemistry, the lighting is perfect.

All thanks to Maetee’s script.

Which means Maetee is being heavily celebrated tonight, everyone buying him a drink, lots of clinking glasses and pats on the back, until Maetee is too dizzy to do anything but sit there and vaguely raise his glass with prompting.

“Want me to drive you home, P’Tee?” one of the junior girls asks, and she’s blushing, has had a crush on Maetee all year.

Another theater kid butts in. “I can take him,” he says, giving the girl a glare.

“I just want to drive him home!” she claims. “But...I do wonder if P’Tee is as good at being romantic as he is writing romance.” She puts a hand to Maetee’s knee, slides it up his thigh imploringly.

The comment makes it through and Maetee nods, then stops nodding with a wince.

“You want me to take you home?” she determines, excited.

A shake of the head as Maetee slips his phone from his pocket and promptly drops it on the floor. He stares at it, as if willing it to return to his hand, and the other guy picks it up for him, seeing his lockscreen and smirking.

This Maetee notes and he nods. “Call,” he says. He reaches over to unlock the phone. “Most recent.”

Maetee just does his best not to tip from his seat until the phone is handed back.

“P’Teeee,” the girl whines, grabbing his hand, and Maetee flinches, looks at her like he didn’t know she was there. “Don’t fall asleep, na?” She takes the opportunity to cling to his arm.

The other guy tugs at her. “Nong, you--”

“Maetee!” someone calls across the bar and Maetee looks up as if summoned.

“T-Rex, tee rak,” Maetee slurs, grinning stupidly as T-Rex jogs over. He pulls himself free of the girl thoughtlessly and drapes his arms over T-Rex. “Maetee is drunk. And I think a ghost tried to hit on me, but I ignored it, like you taught me.” The breaks in his sentence show the time it takes him to get to his point, and T-Rex peers past Maetee at the girl.

“Sorry,” T-Rex tells her. “He’s very drunk. I know you’re not a ghost.”

“She might as well be,” the other guy mutters, but he helps T-Rex take Maetee to the car as the girl turns devastated.

“Maetee,” T-Rex scolds, “you’re drinking water when we get home.”

But Maetee is already passed out by the time T-Rex finishes speaking, his hand clutching T-Rex’s shirt.

The next time they meet, Maetee apologizes to the girl, who apologizes back.

“I didn’t know you had a faen,” she tells him. “I guess now I know why P’Tee’s love stories are all so beautiful.”

Maetee nods, blushing and flustered. “T-Rex is my faen. He’s my muse.”

Chapter Text

Maetee doesn’t like being in the dark. Still.

T-Rex has been trying to make it easier on him, slowly.

It’ll just be the two of them when Maetee arrives back tonight, and T-Rex decides to press Maetee a bit more out of his comfort zone by lighting candles instead of turning on the lights.

If Maetee can handle just the candlelight at the dining table, in the living room, in their bedroom, it also means they get beautiful romantic lighting while T-Rex rides him.

T-Rex has already told Maetee this part of the deal.

And they do get that far, even if the flickering seems a bit spooky and Maetee startles a couple of times. They make it to the bedroom and T-Rex is sinking down onto Maetee’s cock as reward when there’s the stomping of feet and Watee’s shouts can be heard.

The door bursts open. “You’re going to burn the house down!” he shouts.

“Sorry,” T-Rex says, rocking his hips. “I’ll put them all out soon, phi. It was for a good reason.”

Watee scoffs, then gives them a glare. “And lock the door if you’re fucking.” He blows out a candle and closes the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Soft kisses peppered to the crook of his neck and Third’s body stirs, Khai’s hand slipping into his pants and touching him, Khai pressed against him.

Third groans, wanting Khai but not what he knows Khai wants. He huffs, even as his hips stutter to meet Khai’s strokes. “I don’t feel like it, Khai.”

“You don’t?” He gives Third a squeeze, breath ghosting against Third’s neck. “If Third wants to be on top, Third can fuck Khai.”

Third is suddenly much more awake. “What?”

“I know it’s tiring. I just want to be with Third,” Khai continues.

Third turns, raising an eyebrow. “Really, Khai?”

Khai nods, kisses the tip of Third’s nose. They share a look and Khai dives in for a real kiss, starts maneuvering Third on top of him. “I just want you, tee rak.”

Third is moved, opens Khai up carefully, warns Khai that it’ll hurt, but Khai only bites his lip when there’s pain.

Khai holds onto Third, their foreheads pressed together as their bodies find the new-old rhythm. Third pants, tries to hold himself together, tries to make it good for Khai.

“I love you, Third,” Khai murmurs between kisses, as they come together a different way.

Third shakes at the finish, has to catch his breath before he pulls out. “I love you, too, Khai. So much.”

“I love fucking you,” Khai tells him. “But I love you fucking me, too. Just ask, Third.”

Third blushes and nods, kisses Khai again in silent agreement.

Chapter Text

“Pick?” Porsche questions, opening the door to find his friend on the other side.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Porsche ushers Pick inside. “Er. About Nong Rome, right?”

Pick doesn’t answer as he stomps inside and angrily takes a seat on Porsche’s bed.

“Oho! You like him a lot!”

Pick glares.

Porsche’s grin simmers down and he takes a seat beside Pick. “What’s the problem?”

Pick groans. “What do I do?”

“What do you mean?” Porsche frowns.

“What do I do if I…like…Nong Rome?” Pick acts like the words offend him.

Porsche raises an eyebrow. “Ask him out?”

Pick looks at Porsche in disgust. “No.”

Porsche blinks, chuckles awkwardly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Ignore him until I stop feeling weird,” Pick says easily, daring Porsche to suggest better.

Porsche hums, as if thinking it over. “Or!” And Pick looks at him. “You could kiss him!”


Chapter Text

Pick pulls out of Rome and Rome is catching his breath, is trying to figure out why Pick looks so distressed after their first time having sex.

“I’m not gay,” Pick says, but his voice wavers.

Rome tilts his head. “I never said P’Pick was gay.” But he’s gentle as he watches Pick, waiting without pressing.

“I’ve never.” Pick stops, ends his sentence abruptly.

Rome takes Pick’s hand in his. “Whatever P’Pick says, Rome won’t judge.”

“I’ve never…had…” Pick mulls over the words, struggling. “I’ve never had these…feelings.”

Rome frowns, but tries not to scare Pick. “Didn’t P’Pick have a girlfriend before?”

Pick gives a quick, abortive nod. “We didn’t… I never wanted to…with her.”

Rome bites his tongue and sits up, holding more securely onto Pick. “Did P’Pick—” He hesitates. “Was there any girl P’Pick wanted?”

Pick bites his lip, shakes his head, and Rome’s heart both swells and aches for him. Pick swallows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rome shakes his head back, but he pulls at Pick until Pick is beside him, lying on the bed once more. “It’s okay, phi,” he says.

“What’s okay?” Pick snaps, but he stays in Rome’s embrace.

“It’s…” Rome kisses Pick’s forehead, his cheek, his lips. “Did P’Pick like sleeping with Rome?”

Pick nods tremulously.

“Rome liked it, too,” Rome says. “And Rome has only been with P’Pick.” He hopes the statement is leading enough.

“I’ve only been with you,” Pick says back.

Rome nods. He had sort of thought so. “Does P’Pick want to be with someone else?”

Pick shakes his head.

“Rome doesn’t want to be with anyone else either,” Rome assures. “But I want you to know,” he says carefully, “that if P’Pick is gay, that’s okay. Rome isn’t going to make a big deal about it. Rome is gay. Rome is okay with being gay.”

Pick is silent for a long moment. Finally, he says, “Is it really okay?”

“More than okay,” Rome says. He catches Pick’s gaze in his own. “But phi—”

“I think I’m gay,” Pick whispers

Rome pulls him close. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Pick actually comes into the cafe and waits for Rome to finish his shift and Rome is pleased, if a bit flustered at being watched.

He still has ten minutes and darts over to Pick to let him know.

“Aow,” Pick says, annoyed. He leans in and Rome, curious, lends his ear. “Here I was hoping in ten minutes I’d be deep inside you, nong.”

Rome thinks he must’ve misheard, withdraws to look at Pick, then leans back in.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Pick continues. “Wish I could just bend you over the counter and take you now, but I guess I have to wait until we get home to fuck your tight little ass.”

“P’Pick,” Rome warns, but he’s blushing.

The next ten minutes are torture, and they get stuck in traffic, the tension mounting until they get into their place, and Pick gets into Rome.

Chapter Text

They duck inside their larger tent while their guests do the same. Gun zips the flap shut securely with a smirk.

The camera is panning over the scene and Off is giving his usual over-the-top sound effects, but he’s already between Gun’s thighs, hovering over him, his hand down the front of Gun’s pants.

They can’t get far, but Off, done shouting, ducks down to kiss Gun, to get him riled up.

In a moment, they’ll have to emerge and make pleasantries with their guests and Gun will be frustrated, and Off will get to enjoy every second of it.

Chapter Text

This guy must think he has Tam just where he wants him.

They had flirted at the bar, Tam had implied that if the guy had money, he could do whatever he wanted.

Their lips meet and both of them realize the problem, Tam breaking the kiss at that supernatural pull and Thawin’s gaze going to Phum, who is trying to rifle through his belongings.

“A whore with an accomplice,” Thawin says. “Were you even going to put out first, nong?”

Tam laughs. “For someone as handsome as Khun Thawin,” and he emphasizes knowing the name.

“I would’ve killed you first,” Thawin says, but there’s no malice in its sincerity. “But I appreciate nong’s daring. Not”—and he grabs Phum—“this leech.”

Tam watches as Thawin kisses Phum and Phum falls to the floor, aging, disintegrating. Thawin steps through the ash back to Tam.

“But I can take care of you, nong,” Thawin continues. “If nong is still willing to go all the way.”

Tam hesitates, but he looks into Thawin’s eyes, nods. “I can be good for more than a fuck,” Tam says.

Thawin smiles at him, grabbing his hips. “But it’s a good place to start.”

Chapter Text

Off doesn’t really do love scenes. Not, like, the sexy kind. He’ll appear in a bed with someone or kiss someone, but there’s never much detail to it.

He had never kissed anyone on-screen like he had Gun, so it’s only fitting he should go further with Gun. He’s most comfortable with Gun, after all.

…Because it’s not like he and Gun haven’t done any of it for real.

They’ve never recorded themselves but watching the footage of their scene as Sean and White, Off can’t help thinking about him and Gun like that.

Plus, with the makeup and lighting and directing, they look extra good.

Off takes himself out and gives a couple of tentative strokes, rewinds to see that face Gun makes just when—

“Papii?” Gun is rubbing sleep from his eyes, sees the TV first. “Oh, the new footage…” But his words drift off when he sees Off. “Papii likes seeing us?”

Already caught, Off nods, glances down at himself and up at Gun, raising an eyebrow.

Gun yawns, stretches, then drops slowly to his knees. “You know, if watching us together turns you on this much, Papii could record this now, too.” He takes Off down.

Chapter Text

Black can see them, but not well.

Sean is wrapped around his brother, his twin play-acting as him. It’s disgusting to see them like that. As if he would ever— Well, not with Sean.

Even from a distance, through the filthy window, he can see they’re kissing and he hates it, but he can’t bust in. Not now.

They shift out of sight and Black is considering his next move when he feels it, a sharp pain at first, an intrusion, and then it shifts.

Holy fuck. They’re fucking.

And Black can feel it.

Sean is fucking his younger brother.


This isn’t like a chest ache, like choking, like taking a blow to the stomach or a hit to the head, but the feeling is just as visceral, as real, as Black remembers from when they were young, as if whatever happens to White is happening to Black.

It had just been pain then, trauma and terror, but this feeling had started in pain, in discomfort, and Black thinks he should’ve gone for it anyway, should’ve gone in and taken his brother away from Sean before anything could’ve happened to begin with.

But it’s too late to stop them.

There’s still an ache, but there’s pleasure rising.

Black can’t judge White for liking it—who doesn’t like a good fuck?—but it’s Sean and White is pretending to be him.

For Sean to even think that Black would let him—

Sean wouldn’t though.

Sean has no interest in Black.


Sean must know it’s White.

And that’s so much worse, realizing Sean has finally and knowingly gotten his hands on Black’s younger brother after all these years.

Black breathes hard, wills himself not to enjoy it. For better or worse, he’ll know when it’s over.

He can make a move then.

Chapter Text

White wakes up sweating, hard, feeling needy but also like he’s… He shakes Sean awake, is already slicking his own fingers and working himself open.

“Can feel— Feel like White is already full.”

Sean sits up quickly, replaces White’s fingers with his own. “Can’t let Gram and Black show us up, can we?”

“Enough, enough,” White says. “Please, Sean. P’— P’Sean.” White is blushing but he’s already so on edge, actually pushes Sean back to climb on top of him, to get Sean inside.

Sean thrusts up into him and White keens, lifts himself up and sinks himself back down, until they find the right rhythm.

White is breathing so hard, then coming so hard, just lets Sean flip them over and fuck him until Sean finishes inside of him. White twitches, holding onto Sean for another minute, bodies still connected.

“Ours was better, right?” Sean asks.

Wrecked, White nods.

Chapter Text

It’s a YouTube recommendation and it takes Off a minute to figure out why it seems so familiar, but he pauses in his scrolling and it starts autoplaying and Off starts to realize it’s a movie.

It’s a movie with Gun in it!

Since it’s already starting anyway. Off watches it all the way through.

At first it’s just strange and confusing and these women seem to know less about baking than he does, which isn’t saying much. But then he remembers something about how it’s not really about chocolate and then--

Then Gun is in the bath.

And Gun is…drugged? On drugs? Giggling and moaning and then there’s some guy in the bath with him and there’s a foot and Off is terribly embarrassed.

But Gun is… Off hides his face.

And then Gun is asking if the guy was watching and Off is feeling guilty and embarrassed and confused.

But there’s another movie about this character, right?

Off has never seen that one either. It’s already kind of late and Gun is still out filming so Off starts the next one.

He hadn’t thought it could get more awkward, but apparently he was very, very wrong.

He endures until Gun shows up. And Gun is scary…and spitting a lot. And pointing guns at people.

And then that bitch hits him!

Oh, and Gun is snorting coke and he’s beating her and…

Off has no idea. Did Gun kill her?

Apparently not.

This Gun is so unlike his Gun, but Gun had filmed this after they met. He knew this Gun.

And yet he hadn’t ever thought Gun could be so scary, despite the little clips he’d seen before.

Gun gets dropped off at his place in the wee hours of the morning, taking a shower and collapsing into bed and Off holds him close, but keeps thinking about that other side he had seen.

When Off wakes up, Gun is on his phone. Off’s phone.

“Mh?” he grunts, pushing himself up to peer over, but Gun hides the screen.

Gun pushes Off back down and straddles him, a different look in his eye, looking like… Oh. Like James.

But Gun cracks a smile, can’t look at Off like that for too long. “Papii, why did you watch? It’s embarrassing.”

Off laughs, staring up at Gun, wondering at how Gun can change himself so very much. “It is,” he agrees, making Gun whack him on the chest.

“Oi!” Gun warns. He makes a gun with his fingers and pokes Off’s chest. “Don’t test me, Papii.”

“Why? Are you going to take a bath with me?” Off retorts, causing Gun to curl into Off’s chest to hide his face.


Chapter Text

“This is stupid,” Pick tells Porsche, who merely grins and bumps elbows with him.

On the other side of the club room, Emma is telling Rome she thinks P’Din is interested in him while Rome tells Emma that Din is just being nice. There’s the unspoken acknowledgment of Rome’s real crush, made through furtive glances in Pick’s direction.

“It’s in my locker,” Rome says to Emma.

“Can you grab something?” Porsche says to Pick.

The two approach and hesitate, Rome’s locker under Porsche’s.

“I can just—” Rome starts, ducking down.

“Right,” Pick agrees, trying to grumble but the word cracks instead.

Rome opens his locker and reaches in.

Pick opens Porsche’s locker and is faced by dangling… “Mistletoe?” Pick says.

Rome looks up at Pick and the two are jumbled together against the lockers, Pick accidentally pinning Rome while Rome grabs Pick for support.

“Ooh! Mistletoe!” Porsche calls loudly, so Pick and Rome can’t escape.

“We don’t have to—” Rome starts, but he licks his lips.

Pick’s eyes follow the movement. “What? I’m not scared or anything.”

“Okay,” Rome says. “So we’ll just…”

“Uh,” Pick agrees, leans down.

Rome closes his eyes.

Pick’s lips are soft, but Rome’s are softer.

Chapter Text

Rome loves the wild animal park. He goes there at least twice a month, Emma having helped pay for an annual pass after he’d been so enamored. She comes with sometimes, but often it’s just Rome.

Pick has been working at the park since graduation, taking care of the animals and treating them. Generally, with his vet status, he can get away with very little interaction when people ask him their inane questions, which he tries to avoid altogether.

Except from one particular visitor.

Pick hated him at first but the guy is here a lot. Mostly he just calmly watches the animals and looks really happy about it. He does, however, sometimes ask Pick questions, but it’s okay because he also went and got Pick when one of the animals was hurt. Pick had gone to help and no one else had been around and the guy, Rome, had been something of an assistant.

So Rome is allowed to ask questions.

“P’Pick,” he hears, because he told Rome to stop calling him doctor.

“Mh? What is it, shorty?” Pick asks. He’s about to take a break, but he can wait a minute for Rome.

“I can’t come by next week,” Rome tells him.

Pick scowls. “Okay. I don’t work next weekend anyway. Why are you telling me?”

“Oh! Er. I’m…graduating. University.”

Pick rolls his eyes at the addition, as if it wasn’t obvious, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. “And?”

Rome shifts from foot to foot. “Would, um. Would P’Pick like to come to Rome’s graduation?”

Where the hell had that come from? And why the hell are Pick’s next words, “When? Where?”

What might be even better to ask is why Pick goes, bringing along a stuffed animal from the shop with a donation in Rome’s name.

Chapter Text

Rome had met Pick’s father before Pick was ever willing to admit they were a thing, but gets reintroduced a little later. Properly.

Rome is staying over a couple of nights after that when he turns over to look at Pick far too seriously.

Pick balks. “What?”

“P’Pick hasn’t met Rome’s parents,” Rome says.

Just the thought makes Pick tense up. He hasn’t met Rome’s parents. His dad had struggled with meeting Rome as his boyfriend and Rome is sweet and kind. How the hell are Rome’s parents going to react to Pick? What if they don’t like him? What if they don’t want him seeing Rome anymore?

“P’Pick?” Rome calls him back.

“Mh. What?” Pick asks again, like he’s not freaking out.

“Maybe P’Pick can come over to my house next weekend?” Rome suggests.

“But…” An idea alights in Pick’s brain. “I might have a shift. It might go long.”

Rome frowns. “Oh.”

Pick’s resolve wavers at Rome’s jutted out bottom lip, his downcast eyes. “But I can try.”

Rome’s smile is tentative. “Really? My mom wants to meet you.”

Uh-- Wait. She knows?” Pick is somehow more terrified.

Rome nods. “Of course. Rome tells Mae everything.”

Pick gulps.

Chapter Text

“Ohooo, P’Pick is all dressed up,” Rome says when Pick arrives.

Pick furrows his brows, huffs. “No.”

“It’s okay, P’Pick. I know you want to make a good impression on my parents. I think it’s sweet.” Rome kisses him on the cheek.

Pick grumbles but he lets Rome hold his hand on the drive and feels a little better at the contact.

Rome’s directions lead him to the house and Pick parks, stares at the gate as if he’s about to enter hell rather than his boyfriend’s family home.

Rome, however, is grinning as he looks to the house. “Come on, P’Pick.” He even takes Pick by the hand again once they’re out of the car and drags him up.

Pick is full-on panicked now, tries to pull his hand from Rome’s but Rome won’t let him. Fervently, he asks, “Isn’t it bad enough they already know I’m your boyfriend?”

Rome tilts his head. “Does P’Pick think he’s the first boy I’ve brought home?”

And suddenly Pick blusters. “Who?” But Rome’s parents are coming and it is now of utmost importance that he make a good impression.

The gate opens and Rome’s mother is smiling and Pick feels her eyes on him.

“Sawasdee krub,” he says as politely as he can, wai-ing her. “Khun--”

“Mae,” she fills in for him. “Sawasdee ja, luk.”

“Mae, P’Pick isn’t good with hugging,” Rome mutters, as they greet each other with an embrace.

Rome’s mother pouts, looking much like Rome does. “That’s okay,” she says. “Come in, come in. Your father is making dinner.”

Pick is trying to figure out how many other boyfriends Rome has had as he’s escorted into the living room to make small talk. He answers questions about school, about his career options, and then about how he and Rome met.

Rome’s father calls for him and Pick is left with Rome’s mom, feels extra out of sorts without Rome there as a buffer. His knee shakes and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Luk,” she says, “Rome is your first boyfriend.” It’s not a question.

Pick bites back the urge to say something rude, tell her it’s none of her business. He feels immensely awkward as he ends up muttering only a soft, “Krub.”

“It’s okay,” she says, reassuring Pick again. “Rome has always been open about who he is. He never hid it and we never wanted him to.” She lowers her voice, “But you love him, don’t you?”

This is not the sort of question Pick is prepared to deal with. He’s still thinking about Rome’s other boyfriends, how Rome is out with his parents, and now he’s being asked if he loves Rome. Some strange fight or flight instinct rises up, he can only eke out an even weaker, “Krub.”

Rome’s mother pats him on the knee. “Mae thought so. Rome thinks you’re the one.” She winks.

Rome returns, smiling at Pick. “Dinner’s ready.”

Pick’s heart thumps, mind racing and frozen all at once. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Dinner goes fairly well, with Rome scolding his father when the subject of marriage skims the surface of the conversation. Rome’s father is kind and the food is delicious and Pick lets Rome’s mom hug him at the end of the night.

They’re barely in the car, however, when he becomes taciturn.

“P’Pick, weren’t my parents nice?” When he receives only a grunt in response, Rome tries again. “Mae says she approves of you. She thinks you’re sweet.” He’s grinning at the phrasing, gives Pick’s shoulder a poke. “P’Pick is sweeeet,” he teases.

“Hm,” Pick answers. It’s really just another grunt.

“What’s wrong?” Rome asks.

“Want me to drop you off?” Pick responds, nodding towards the next exit.

“I thought we were staying at P’Pick’s tonight.” Rome watches Pick curiously.

Pick shrugs. “If you want.”

Rome seems to be deep in thought for a moment before the grin is back. “Phi, are you thinking about how Rome has brought other boys home?”

Pick freezes, shaking his head. “Why would I care?” But he’s driving them back to his place.

Humming, Rome shakes his head. “It’s true. Rome had a couple of boyfriends in high school. They would come over and we would hang out in my bedroom.”

“I thought you spent all your time with Nong Emma,” Pick returns quickly.

“Not all my time, phi,” Rome responds, nonchalant. “I’ve brought boyfriends to meet my parents. I’ll continue to bring boyfriends home if they mean something to me. If--”

“Your mom said you thought I was the one,” Pick says, having had enough of Rome’s teasing.

Rome blushes and grins. “Right. So can P’Pick stop feeling uncomfortable now? P’Pick is the only one Rome wants to be with.”

“And I’m the only one who--”

“Right,” Rome repeats, loudly, cheeks turning even redder. “Because P’Pick is the one.”

Pick parks the car in front of his place. He unbuckles his seatbelt and Rome’s so he can kiss Rome like he did before, when he doesn’t know how else to express himself.

“If phi doesn’t believe me, maybe Rome can show him.”

Chapter Text

Maetee is in a funk.

It’s been two days and Watee mostly finds it annoying, as he loudly complains to Maitee that Maetee should just get over whatever it is and stop moping.

T-Rex, however, has other ideas. Maetee is an artist—a writer, in the case—and he’s sensitive. T-Rex doesn’t know if there’s anything in particular that had upset Maetee, and he’d made little progress by asking, but he knows that he’s going to make Maetee feel better.

Maetee is lying in their bed, awake but unmoving, so T-Rex makes Maetee coffee and squirrels away some of the breakfast Maitee had made, brings enough in for both of them as he snuggles in.

There’s not much reaction from Maetee, but T-Rex hadn’t expected any. Instead, he runs his fingers through Maetee’s hair and places a kiss to Maetee’s temple, which finally causes Maetee to stir a little and look at him. Their relationship isn’t romantic…yet. But it’s on the cusp. No harm in reminding Maetee what he means to T-Rex.

“Could you eat something?” T-Rex asks and, at Maetee’s shrug, presses, “Let’s eat together.”

Maetee shuffles into a more seated position and T-Rex hands him the coffee he’d made, lets Maetee just sit there holding the warm cup for a minute, processing what T-Rex is doing as T-Rex sets out the food properly and opens up his laptop, putting on a series they’ve watched a dozen times before.

It takes a while, but Maetee starts eating, slowly, and T-Rex cuddles him the whole time.

“Thanks,” Maetee mumbles, and his hand finds T-Rex’s, threading their fingers together.

T-Rex smiles, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm Maetee or pressure him, so he just squeezes Maetee’s hand. “Of course.”

After another episode, T-Rex dares to push a bit more.

“Let’s take a shower,” he says.

Maetee eyes him. “I don’t… Together?”

“Mh.” T-Rex nods and, knowing that Maetee is interested, he moves into a kneeling position, tugging at their joined hands.

Maetee crawls out of bed to follow him, not letting him go until they’re stripping and getting under the hot water.

Maetee stares at T-Rex uncertainly. “Could we, er. Could we hug?”

Skin contact. T-Rex wraps his arms around Maetee, pressing their bare bodies together, warm skin against warm skin until they feel like one being.

This seems to shake Maetee’s system a bit and T-Rex helps scrub him, washes his hair, and he does the same for T-Rex, then as they’re drying off, Maetee pulls T-Rex close by tugging on his towel.

“You’re the best,” Maetee says. “You know that, right?”

T-Rex shakes his head. “No.” And he presses a kiss to Maetee’s lips for the very first time. “But I think we might be. Together.”

Maetee’s eyes are filled with wonder. “I think you’re right.”

Maetee kisses T-Rex this time.