#also pls help this was supposed to be a goofy 1k thing????

[snickerdoodlles]

WIP wednesday

if u hear crying, its me banging my head on my keyboard trying to finish this wip in the next 12hrs 💪😭 a lil ~850w snippet from it until then tho

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“I’ve noticed a distinct pattern in these fantasies of yours.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“You like to bully me,” Pat whines woefully, as though he doesn’t burn at the thought of Pran’s creativity. “You wanna push me around, Pran? Hmm?”

Pran gives a little indifferent hmph, but his dimple flashes on his cheek, and Pat’s helpless to resist kissing it. Pran’s not-a-smile smile deepens as he tries to look away and pretend he doesn’t want Pat to kiss him again. “Maybe I just like returning the favor.”

Pat pauses, actually surprised. Pran shifts under his startled gaze, cheeks so hot Pat can actually feel the heat. “Shut up,” he mutters, tugging Pat closer, “It’s nice to be manhandled.”

Pat’s hands tighten around Pran’s waist subconsciously, and Pran makes this delicious little grunt as his eyes darken. Hmm.

“Oh?” Pat asks gleefully.

Pran flushes darker, and peeks up at him from under his lashes. Pat’s struggling to breathe, but that’s fine, he’s soaring over clouds as Pran clears his throat and says, “You know. You’re all…” he gestures at Pat, eyes fixed on the sliver of chest peeking through Pat’s unbuttoned collar, “Muscles.”

This is the best thing.

“I knew you liked my chest,” Pat says smugly. He should strip more often.

“Everyone likes your chest,” Pran mutters. Pat beams and gets a poke in the head in turn. “Don’t get a big head about it.”

Oh, no, it’s far too late for that. This is going to carry Pat through his whole week. Pran mutters something under his breath and grabs Pat’s chin to pull his attention back.

And it’s great, because Pran has a devilish glint in his eye that suggests he’s about to up the ante, the same one he’ll have before licking Pat’s finger or looking up at him with those big brown eyes and saying, “Take care of me?” Pat loves that look.

Pran bites his lower lip, eyes sweeping down shyly. “Do you…” Pran presses his lips together and fidgets as he gathers his courage. “Do you remember when we were in high school?” he asks in a breathless rush.

Oh, huh. This is not going where Pat thought it would.

Pran traces Pat’s collarbone with the tip of his finger, too shy to meet Pat’s gaze. “Do you remember how we’d use the can phones to write lyrics late at night?”

Pat’s smile goes soft with nostalgia. “Mm.”

“Sometimes…”

Pat waits. Pran licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“Sometimes I imagined going over to your room.”

Pran trails off again, cheeks hot. Pat rubs circles into his waist with his thumbs and teases, “Right into my room? Without even knocking? Mr. Pran!”

Pran pinches his collarbone, dimple deepening as he tries not to laugh. “It’d serve you right,” he grumbles, “Make up for all the times you barged in on me.” Pat grins and Pran’s eyes flash. “I wouldn’t keep you quiet with my hand though. I’d kiss you instead.”

The image strikes Pat down to his core like a lightning bolt. Him, startled and gleeful Pran would intrude on his space, Pran, still awkward and gangly pressed against him, their teeth clicking together as they try to slot their edges together. “Yeah?” he asks, breathless.

“Mm.” Pran’s fingers trail up Pat’s neck to play with his hair curling over his ears. “Could you imagine what our parents would’ve done if they’d caught us like that?” His breathing speeds up, fingers tugging on Pat’s hair just a little more forcefully. “I can’t. Sometimes, when you’d fallen asleep at your window, I’d rest my head on mine and picture falling asleep. Maybe I’d miss my alarm and my mom would come check on me, just to find me asleep at my window, still holding onto the can phone…”

Pran’s breathing too hard, in little hitches as though he’d just run up the stairs. He accidentally tugs Pat’s hair harshly, making him wince. He calms down slightly, rubs the sore spot on Pat’s head with his thumb apologetically. He smiles, self-deprecating. “But I never managed to actually fall asleep those times. Can you imagine? My parents would probably move across the country.” Pat wrinkles his nose at the thought--Pran might never have come back had they done that--and Pran’s breath hitches again. “Though…sometimes I’d think…what if…”

Pran looks away again, lower lip caught between his teeth again. Pat waits, clutching Pran’s waist, grounding them both. But when the words don’t come, he hesitantly says, “...You’d picture them not minding?” because that’s the only thing Pat can think of.

Pran barks a laugh, somehow sounding both like he thinks Pat’s hysterical and not finding anything funny at all. “I can’t even imagine. But…” Pran swallows nervously. “Sometimes I’d picture it not mattering.”

It suddenly becomes very difficult to breathe.

Pran’s still too shy to meet his eyes. He laughs hoarsely, a little mocking, a little mean. “Silly, huh? They’ve always decided everything when it comes to us.”

Not everything, Pat thinks, Pran heavy on his thighs and warm in his arms.

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