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heart-of-the-card · 5 days ago

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Anthony's Realization

Fandom: Smosh Pairing: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla, Anthony Padilla & Dan Howell, implied phan Rating: T Key Tags: Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers Word Count: 5,275 Read on AO3

Summary:

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths. The second thing that he does is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths. He closes his eyes, inhales, and tells himself that it isn’t a big deal. And it truly isn’t, not really. The thing about this realization is that it's not a surprise. He may not have been aware enough to name what was happening, but by the time he becomes conscious of his feelings, he’s been living with them for long enough that it’s a natural part of him, nothing to be done. He doesn’t want to fight it, it’s silly to deny it, and there are definitely worse fates in the world. Still, it’s a huge fucking realization to have, and he takes a second to re-center himself in the middle of the office so he doesn’t do something stupid, like have a panic attack or grab Ian by the lapels of his jacket or start laughing hysterically.

The second thing that he does when he finally has his realization is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

There’s no way that he can talk about this with anyone he works with. Not only are there sometimes complicated boundaries with him being one of the owners, but if this got leaked it would spread around Smosh like wildfire, and he’s absolutely not ready for that. In that instance, might as well stay away from everyone in the general LA area, just in case it manages to get back to anyone on staff. Actually, there are too many people who know Smosh members in the entire country, so it’s best to discard everyone in the United States–no, everyone in all of North America entirely.

The answer is obvious. There’s one other person who is uniquely positioned to understand what he’s going through and who would be willing to talk him through it, and that person doesn’t live in the country and talks more to him than anyone else at Smosh.

Anthony: hey, any chance you’re free to chat soon? could use your advice. nothing bad

He only has to wait a few seconds, which is impressive, because he didn’t consider calculating the time difference before he texted.

Dan Howell (youtube): oh hell

you’re not dying right

30 minutes sound good?

Anthony: no death, 30 min is good. Ttyl

Anthony grabs his jacket and heads out the door, calling a very general goodbye to the office at large so no one thinks he has just been burdened with self-knowledge that he will be obsessing over for the foreseeable future.

Anthony makes it home with no memory of the drive. He barely has time to kick off his shoes and settle on the couch before Dan’s call comes through. It’s a video call, but Anthony is still met by a dark screen, only half of Dan’s face illuminated with white light. He’s probably in his room in the dark even though he’s wide awake, which feels so quintessentially Dan that it eases Anthony a little.

“Hey, thanks for calling,” Anthony says. Dan squints at him suspiciously from the tiny phone screen.

“Of course,” he replies. “Not every day I get to talk to my good friend Anthony Padilla.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, because Dan has been busier than him lately and they do send each other memes and funny messages sometimes. It’s not like they’ve had no contact in the past few months.

“What’s up?” Dan asks, steamrolling past any reply Anthony might come up with. Anthony likes that about him. It may be hard to lock Dan into a genuine conversation when he doesn’t want one, but once he’s there he has single-minded focus and doesn’t let Anthony beat around the bush or procrastinate. Anthony would be almost offended that it seems like Dan wants to get it over with if it wasn’t for the fact that small talk right now would be excruciating.

“I’ve, uh, had a bit of a realization recently, and I don’t really want to talk to anyone in the office about it.”

Dan levels him with a flat look.

“Are you fucking in love with Ian?”

Anthony groans, leaning back against his couch and giving himself a moment to cover his face.

He didn’t expect Dan to clock him so easily. Can everyone tell? Was Anthony himself the last person to know? Does he have a flashing neon sign saying IN LOVE WITH IAN HECOX hanging above his head?

“How the fuck did you know?” he asks incredulously. Dan laughs at him, loud and bright.

“Because if it wasn’t about Ian, you’d be talking through whatever it is with him as part of your “healthy communication” pact, and my largest skill set is navigating how to be a gay youtuber in love with your best friend and business partner. Also, I’m probably the closest gay person you know who isn’t associated with your company.”

Anthony laughs.

“Is it really that obvious?” he asks. Dan shrugs.

“I know what I’m about,” he replies. “Now, is it the gayness that’s a crisis or the Ian-ness that’s a crisis?”

“Ian-ness,” he responds immediately. “Wait, actually…”

Dan waits while Anthony takes a moment, because that’s not right, not really.

He isn’t worried about his sexuality. He came to the conclusion a few years ago that he would keep himself open to other possibilities, and he’s always been able to appreciate other guys. The fact that Ian has a dick isn’t a problem. Sure, he hasn’t felt particularly motivated to give someone a blowjob before, but he’s not bothered by the idea at all. He’d like to have the chance, frankly, even if he’s bad at it and needs to practice a bit, especially if Ian is the one he’s practicing with. But the Ian of it all isn’t a crisis, either.

“It’s not��” he starts, then stops. Dan hums encouragingly. “It’s not a crisis, really? It’s Ian, you know? This is probably the best case scenario for my first time falling in love with a man.”

“Fair,” Dan says. “So what do you need me for, then?”

Anthony snorts.

“If I didn’t talk this through with someone, I’d probably end up blurting it out in a meeting tomorrow in front of everyone.”

Dan hums.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the most professional moment, even for you,” he says. “I take it this means you’re down bad.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony confirms. “Hit me like a truck. Nothing even prompted it! I was wrapping up for the day and wondering if I should ask Ian to grab dinner like usual and the idea made me so happy I thought something was wrong.”

“That’s fucking gay, Anthony,” Dan says.

“I know!” he groans. “That was the problem, because that’s how I feel about him all the time. This is how I’ve felt for months, and I’m just now realizing. What the fuck? How does that happen?”

“You were too caught up in the euphoria of being around him again to tell it was a proper crush. Like a frog in boiling water,” Dan says, nodding sagely. Anthony mirrors him, grateful that he doesn’t need to elaborate further. Reuniting with Ian felt like finding a part of himself that had been missing since before he left Smosh. He had no way of knowing that the rush he felt every time they hung out or the elation when he managed to say something that made Ian laugh was a symptom of something bigger. It felt like it used to, except better because they’d both grown as people and weren’t emotionally stunted children anymore. He didn’t realize that love had anything to do with it, at least not romantic love. Then, once they’d stabilized properly, they bought Smosh and he had more things to distract himself with. He loved being around Ian, he loved being at Smosh, he loved the fact that he could have both when he had missed them for years. He didn’t feel the need to examine things closer than that.

“What am I supposed to do?” Anthony asks. Dan snorts.

“Don’t do what I did, which was stalk the other person to the point where we were friends and then make him do all the romantic heavy lifting,” he says. “The way I see it, you can either repress it so hard it disappears and you’re miserable, or you tell him in a private moment that you both can escape if it goes badly.”

Anthony frowns.

“Will it go badly?”

Dan shrugs.

“You know Ian better than I do. What do you think?”

Anthony makes himself stop and genuinely consider the question, rather than respond with knee-jerk fears or defensiveness. There’s decades of history including their friendship completely unraveling to consider, and Anthony doesn’t think he’ll survive losing Ian a second time. But Ian has never run away because Anthony wanted too much from him. He might not respond the way that Anthony wants, and he might not give Anthony the same openness and vulnerability that Anthony would be giving him during a confession, but he can’t see this being the thing that pushes Ian away for good. It might be awkward for a bit, but they’re both adults. Anthony can figure out how to manage his feelings, and Ian historically has been great at ignoring elephants in rooms and pretending like things are fine.

“I think it’ll be okay,” he says slowly. “If he doesn’t feel the same or is weirded out, I think we’ll be able to move past it. He’ll probably make some bad jokes to deflect, but I don’t think he’ll hate me, or ask me to leave the company or anything.”

“You think he doesn’t feel the same?” Dan asks. Anthony shrugs.

“Who knows, with Ian. I know he loves me, but that’s different than being in love with me, and he was repressing the shit out of his emotions for a while there. I don’t know. It’s been–things have been really good with us, recently. And I think he’s in the same place as me, with the sexuality thing. But that doesn’t mean that he’s in the same place as me with his feelings, too.”

Dan hums.

Anthony tries to imagine Ian smiling at him in that new, soft way he sometimes does, saying something like “don’t be stupid, Anthony, of course I love you, too”. His heart speeds up at just the thought, feeling like it’s about to skip out of his chest, and he slams that door shut immediately. No use in getting his hopes up or catastrophizing, not before he knows the actual outcome. Better not borrow the joy or anxiety of the future, right?

“When are you going to tell him?” Dan asks.

“What happened to maybe repressing it and being miserable?” Anthony replies.

Even though he can barely see anything from Dan’s side of the screen, he can see the look that Dan gives him. At least it makes him snort.

“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience actually recommend that route to you,” Dan says. “Especially because you’d be shit at it and would tell him anyway, but it’d probably be at the worst possible moment.”

Anthony can’t argue with that. He’s not great at keeping things inside. If he tries to repress this, it’ll bubble up before exploding, like a soda that’s been shaken then cracked open, spilling his feelings all over the place.

“I should probably tell him soon, then,” Anthony says. Dan nods.

“Better to get it over with. Rip off the bandaid.”

“Opposite of what you did.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, voice high with indignation. “I’ve been in a happy relationship for over a decade. You asked me for help.”

“I did,” Anthony concedes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan says, smarmy and pompous in a way that makes Anthony laugh.

He directs the conversation away from his realization and toward normal topics, taking his time to catch up with Dan properly. It’s good to talk to him, just like it always is. As allergic as they are to phone calls, it’s nice to be able to chat in real time, rather than allowing text messages to get lost in a flurry of notifications. More time has passed than Anthony realized when another notification pops up at the top of his screen. He trails off mid-sentence when he sees who it’s from.

Ian: you ok? you left the office pret…

While he’s reading, another banner appears.

Ian: dinner?

“What’s up, what just happened? Why are you ignoring me?” Dan asks.

“Sorry,” Anthony says, shaking his head to bring himself back to the moment. “Ian just texted. He wants to have dinner.”

“The thing that started it all,” Dan says ominously. “Sounds like the perfect opportunity.”

Anthony feels a dash of panic surge through him before it fades, leaving the hint of a bitter aftertaste.

“Already?” he winces.

“Why, do you need to let things settle?” Dan asks. “You seemed pretty secure with everything earlier. Do you think your feelings are going to change?”

Anthony shakes his head immediately.

“I have never been more sure of my feelings,” he affirms. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Dan holds his hand up in a there you go gesture.

“Right,” Anthony says. “Pulling off a bandaid.”

“Guess I’ll let you go get your man,” Dan sighs dramatically. “Text me what happens. Whether it’s a celebration or you want someone to listen to emo music and cry with you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony says earnestly. Dan rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. Welcome to the gay disaster club. Have fun.”

“Thanks for having me,” Anthony laughs. “Talk to you later.”

Dan says a quick goodbye and signs off with a wave, and Anthony navigates over to Ian’s messages before he can second-guess himself.

Ian Hecox: you ok? you left the office pretty quick today

dinner?

Anthony’s thumbs hover over the buttons, not wanting to lie to Ian, but also not wanting to confess his feelings over text. If he says he wants to talk to Ian about something, Ian might think it’s worse than it is, and Anthony doesn’t want to turn this into a big deal for him if it doesn’t have to be, but if he ignores Ian’s initial question and just asks him to come over with takeout, he’ll still think something is wrong, and he’ll think that Anthony doesn’t want to talk about it with him and therefore it’s something terrible.

His phone buzzes with another notification.

Dan Howell (youtube): you better be replying to him and not PROCRASTINATING like a LOSER

Anthony sends him the middle finger emoji, but it’s the encouragement that he needs.

Anthony: had something on my mind i wanted to think through, nothing bad

wanna come over? bring thai pls

Ian’s reply comes in immediately.

Ian: be there in 20

Anthony locks his phone and sets it down, letting out a long breath. He scrubs his hands over his face, then through his hair, blinking at the blank tv across from him while he tries to organize his thoughts.

He can’t sit here for 20 minutes spiraling until Ian gets here. He wants to smoke to offset the nerves thrumming through him, but he doesn’t want to overdo it and lose his sense of urgency, then decide to put the confession off because of it. He needs to tell Ian tonight.

“Like ripping off a bandaid,” he says aloud, slapping his thighs and standing. He spots a candle and lights that, at least, then busies himself tidying up. His home isn’t messy by any means, but rearranging things and breaking out the duster to run along his bookshelves gives him something to keep his hands busy while he repeats a mantra of affirmations in his mind, not allowing any room for the negative and anxious thoughts to permeate.

A sharp knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts while he’s unloading the dishwasher, immediately followed by his door opening and Ian’s voice calling “Honey, I’m home!”

Anthony’s heart flutters. If this continues, he’s going to need to see a cardiologist.

“In the kitchen!” he calls back. “Want a drink?”

“Water for now,” Ian calls back, no doubt setting their take-out up on the coffee table in the living room. “We’ll see about later.”

Anthony grabs two glasses for them and fills them from the filter in the fridge, adding ice for himself but none for Ian because he says it gets too cold for his teeth these days. They’re getting older. Anthony is grateful that he’s present to see it.

“I got you your usual,” Ian says, gesturing to the container while Anthony carefully sets the glass in front of him. He changed since the office, dressing down in sweatpants and an older Smosh hoodie that they discontinued before Anthony left. He looks tired and comfortable, like he belongs on Anthony’s couch shoveling rice into his mouth, and Anthony swallows around the lump in his throat.

Yeah, he needs to tell Ian tonight. He can’t keep living like this. Self-awareness is a gift, because you can’t change things if you don’t know there’s a problem, but Anthony wishes the problem wasn’t being in love with his best friend in a way that’s overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

They don’t talk about anything important while they eat, just chatting casually about whatever crosses their minds, from a weird squirrel that Ian saw yesterday to an artist that Anthony found on Instagram and really likes. It’s easy and comfortable, and Anthony finds himself relaxing with every little joke Ian says that makes him laugh. Ian doesn’t try to be funny outside of work, but he naturally has Anthony in stitches more than anyone else he’s ever met. Anthony has laughed more in the two years they’ve been reunited than he did in the entire six years they were apart.

Eventually, the laughter fades away, Ian setting his plastic fork down and leaning back against the cushions, wiggling a bit to get in the most comfortable position possible with a content sigh. He’s such an old man that way, but Anthony is right there with him, knees cracking when he stretches out.

“So,” Ian says, lolling his head to the side so he can see Anthony fully. “What were you thinking so hard about earlier?”

Anthony sighs. He crosses his arms, but he doesn’t like how that makes him feel like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, so he rubs his hands against his jeans instead.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ian offers. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Anthony says before Ian can get the wrong idea. “It’s not–I wanted to tell you, anyway.”

“Okay,” Ian says slowly. Anthony takes a deep breath, then another one.

“I’m bi,” he blurts.

Not quite what he wanted to say, but baby steps.

“Officially,” he adds. “I know we’ve kind of talked about it before, but I wasn’t really sure, and now I am. I’m bisexual. I like dudes, too.”

“Nice,” Ian says with a grin, leaning forward to give him a high five. Anthony obediently slaps their palms together, and Ian’s fingers curl around Anthony’s hand, shaking him. “Let’s go! Solidarity!”

Anthony laughs, letting Ian break the tension like he usually does. Their hands fall back against the couch, still clasped together, and part of the laughter dies in Anthony’s throat.

“Thanks for telling me, dude,” Ian says. “I am, too, since we’re sharing sexualities.”

Ian’s thumb swipes over the back of Anthony’s hand and goosebumps erupt across his arms, thankfully hidden by his sweater.

“Cool,” he manages to say. Ian smiles at him, open and joyful, and Anthony doesn’t know what emotion is playing across his face, but it makes Ian soften.

“Are you going to get emo on me?” he asks, light and teasing. Anthony chuckles, but it comes out a little wet.

“I didn’t think I would,” he says honestly, blinking up at the ceiling and letting out a shaky breath. Ian squeezes his hand, just a quick pressure and release, and Anthony returns it. When he’s centered himself enough to look back at Ian, his best friend is still smiling at him. It’s a smile that has no pretenses or expectations, just gentle acceptance. He’s so much more open than Anthony ever expected him to be, even since they reconciled. They both had to relearn how to read each other in these heavy moments, and Anthony now knows when Ian puts his walls up and why, and when he can give Anthony more of the vulnerability that he always craves. Now, though, he doesn’t feel like Ian is hiding, despite the jokes and teasing. He’s just here with Anthony, ready to take whatever confession he gives.

“That’s not all of it,” Anthony says. Ian shifts, tucking a foot under him so he can face Anthony fully. He still hasn’t let go of his hand, but Anthony doesn’t want to watch him do so later, so he does it himself, twisting one of his rings around to distract his hands from the sudden emptiness.

“I, uh,” he starts. Ian’s steady focus on him is distracting, and it’s making his throat close up again. He clears it, an incongruous sound in the otherwise quiet space.

“I realized I have feelings for someone,” he finally brings himself to say. Ian’s expression doesn’t change, maintaining a careful neutrality that Anthony is all too familiar with.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks eventually, when too much time has passed for Anthony to fill in the blanks.

“No,” Anthony says quickly. “No, it’s not– I’m not upset about it. It’s just… scary. But I can handle it.”

Ian’s eyebrows twitch with an aborted frown.

Damn, he’s botching this.

“It’s– if I had to fall in love with anyone, it’s best that it’s him,” he tries to explain. “He’s– this is the best case scenario.”

Ian does frown this time.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna let me down easy.”

Ian stares at him. Anthony replays those words in his head and heat floods his face, everything burning. He blinks a few times, but time doesn’t rewind and let him take those words back to tell Ian in a better way. He’s always been shit at improv; he should’ve scripted this in those 20 minutes while Ian was grabbing them dinner and instead he’s making a mess of things.

“What,” Ian asks, no inflection. Anthony opens his mouth, can’t get any actual words out, and closes it again.

“Deep breath, Anthony,” Ian commands. Even though the inflection is still strangely empty, Anthony forces in a breath, then another one.

“Sorry,” he says. Ian shakes his head.

“It’s fine. But you need to use words, because I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now.”

Anthony gestures helplessly.

“I love you?” he says. “In a gay way?”

Ian nods slowly. Anthony wants the ground to open up and swallow him. Maybe he can go stay with Dan and Phil for a few weeks or forever, since Dan’s advice got him in this situation in the first place, except he knows that he’s being irrational and everything should be fine once it stops sucking so bad.

He should’ve done this at Ian’s house so he could run away, rather than having Ian come to him and having to kick him out.

“You think I’m going to let you down easy?” Ian asks. Anthony laughs, a high pitched, hysteric noise that he immediately hates and never wants to make again.

“Are you really going to be mean to me about it?” he asks. His pulse is racing. He’s going to die. He’s actually going to die from confessing his gay love for his best friend. This is pathetic. This is terrible. He’s almost 40 years old and it feels like he’s 15 and getting rejected for the first time, except worse. Dan owes him so many drinks.

“Anthony,” Ian says, reaching towards him. Anthony isn’t fast enough to lean away, and Ian’s hands cup his jaw, curling around his neck and threading through his hair to keep him in place.

“Stop freaking out,” he says, thumb swiping across Anthony’s jaw. “Don’t be stupid.”

Anthony can’t even begin to formulate a response, because Ian leans forward and kisses him. His brain completely short circuits at the gentle contact, even though it only lasts for a second before Ian is leaning back, carefully eyeing him.

“Huh?” he says. Ian cracks a smile.

“I love you, too, you idiot.”

All of the tension leaves Anthony in a rush that makes him dizzy. It’s a good thing that Ian is still holding him, hands anchoring him in the present while Ian gives him that new smile, the one that makes Anthony feel like Ian doesn’t want to be anywhere else if Anthony isn’t with him.

“Huh?” he asks again. Ian chuckles, but it isn’t malicious, and Anthony smiles with him.

“Dude, did you really not know?” Ian asks. “Courtney staged an intervention for me weeks ago. Apparently she and Shayne have been making little bets since you came back.”

“Since I came back?” Anthony asks. “No way.”

“They were delusional,” Ian agrees. “I was not in touch with my feelings enough at that point. I was just happy to have my best friend back.”

“And now?” Anthony asks. Ian grins.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up. What happened to you being in tune with your mind and spirit, bro? Why’d it take you so long to get here?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Anthony laughs, hands coming up to circle Ian’s wrists. “I’ve never fallen in love with my best friend before. I thought it was just you.”

Ian snorts, ducking his head and finally letting his hands fall from Anthony’s face, tangling their fingers together instead.

“That’s so fucking cheesy,” he says, but he sounds pleased. Anthony flushes.

“We’re basically a friends to lovers fanfiction, Ian. This was always going to be cheesy.”

Ian rolls his eyes. When he looks at Anthony again, it’s through his lashes with a fond smile, like he’s taking pages out of Seduction 101. Anthony is actually embarrassed at how well it works on him, face heating and breath catching. His eyes wander down to Ian’s lips, and he forces them back to his eyes in a panic before he remembers that he’s allowed to do that. Ian made that clear.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. “I wasn’t ready when you did it.”

“I don’t know, can you?” Ian replies automatically, then grimaces. Anthony gives him a look, even if Ian’s immediate regret is clear. At least they’re on the same page there.

“Yes,” Ian corrects. “Actually, if you don’t I’m going to be upset.”

That’s all the encouragement that Anthony needs to lean in. He takes his time, letting their noses brush and settling his hands on Ian’s waist before Ian gets impatient and closes the gap. It feels entirely different than their first kiss. Anthony goes into it with intention, pressing as close as he can without Ian's glasses getting in the way, and Ian responds in kind, hands snaking over Anthony's shoulders. The scratch of Ian's stubble against his mouth sends shivers down his spine, much more addictive than Anthony would've guessed, and he fists Ian's hoodie tighter in response, shifting to try to get even closer. Ian breaks the kiss before Anthony is ready, but all he does is take off his glasses and dive right back in, matching Anthony step for step.

Being this close is causing Anthony's head to spin, each change in angle and point of contact simultaneously making every nerve in him stand at attention and glaze over. He can smell Ian's aftershave under the leftover Thai food and burned down remnants of the candle permeating through the living room, and Ian's hands feel incredibly warm through his sweater, even more so when one of them slides up his neck to dig into his hair. The gentle scratch of nails against his scalp pulls the start of a whine out of his throat unbidden, and Ian immediately deepens the kiss, coaxing Anthony to open his mouth with a brush of his tongue.

Anthony wants to keep kissing him all night. He could stay kissing him for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy, whether he keels over in a few minutes or a few decades. This is their first time kissing with intent, the first time where it actually means something, but there's something so familiar about it anyway, the easy way that they move together and around each other, the compatible pressure and comfortable motions. He pulls at Ian again, wanting to get even closer, and Ian shifts without breaking contact, pushing Anthony back against the arm of the couch and following him down. It puts their bodies flush together, and Anthony wraps his arms around Ian's back, pinning him there, a warm line along his front.

A vibration in his pocket startles him enough that he breaks the kiss, blinking up at Ian in surprise. He's haloed by the overhead light, mouth red and cheeks flushed, and he has never looked more beautiful.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Anthony blinks at him, processing.

The phone in his back pocket vibrates again, loud enough that Anthony can hear it now that he's not distracted. He forces one of his hands to release Ian's sweatshirt, lifting his hips to access the pocket and inhaling sharply when the motion makes him brush against Ian.

"Anthony..." Ian says, voice thick. Anthony's phone vibrates again in his hand, drawing Ian's attention to it. He sits back on his heels, finally giving Anthony room to catch a full breath.

Dan Howell (youtube): how are things? have you told him yet?

celebration or crying

maybe silence is a good sign??

“Who is it?” Ian asks, tugging on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dan,” Anthony says. Then, for clarification, “Howell. I called him earlier. He wants to know how the love confession went.”

Ian plucks the phone from his hand in the middle of typing his reply.

“Hey,” Anthony protests halfheartedly while Ian swipes to the camera app. Any additional bitching dies in his throat when Ian presses his lips to the corner of Anthony’s mouth, taking a selfie at the exact moment.

It isn’t the best picture. They’re off-center and Anthony’s face equal parts enamored and very clearly caught off-guard, but Anthony doesn’t protest while Ian attaches the picture to Anthony’s message thread with Dan and sends it. He locks the phone and discards it off to the side, something that Anthony is very okay with once Ian turns his full attention back to him.

“I know we need to talk about this soon, but I kinda want to save that conversation for later tonight and go back to making out right now,” Ian states.

“I’m fine with that,” Anthony says, already reaching for him. He kisses Ian’s grin off his face.

Somewhere on Anthony’s coffee table, nestled among empty takeout containers and a stack of napkins, Anthony’s phone buzzes again. Neither of them hear it. When Anthony finally checks his phone the next morning, he’ll have a litany of text messages, equal parts sincerely happy and playfully disgusted. For now, he’s more than satisfied to kiss Ian silly, everything else fading away until the world consists of just the two of them.

#giggling and kicking my legs

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