#i be Been meaning to rework my....game passes and stuf but I completely forgot BC I was procastinatin and got sick multiple times

[beepject]

so er.. when are u opening commissions :3

I fothoy qboy ythat

[randomoranges]

a few notes on this one: so, at the time this was only the second fic i wrote for this pairing, some almost 5 yrs ago. i had a very “naïve” view of their relationship and wasn’t talking as much with the other two “collaborators/creators”. therefore, this was very much my own view and my own thoughts and my own - whatever. the Timeline wasn’t as full or as developed. 

retrospectively, my view was that they got together, they were aware of the other having feelings, but they had a falling out bcs étienne couldn’t do Actual Feelings and commit. Anyways. i was going to rework it so that it could fit with the curent timeline, but doing so would remove too much of the essence of the original piece, so i left it as is. despite all that, i still find this one sweet, even if it’s a little naïve and optimistic. so i’m still re-posting it for sentimental reason, but it’s off timeline now. who knows, maybe it can be an au HAHAH.

Perfect Cities I Wanna Hold Your Hand

 The strangest thing was being able to spend so much time with Étienne. For so long, their friendship had been held at a distance, through the exchange of letters and an odd phone call here and there. Now, they could see each other during meetings, they could actually plan to meet up outside of them and the novelty was something else. Therefore, there had been many more lunches, after that first one. Edward found himself seeking out his new friend at every other meeting and the two of them were spending more and more time together. It was strange to think that Étienne wanted to see him – or wanted to spend so much time with him, but it was nice to have a friend at these things.

 At first, they wrote off the time they spent together as work related, but when they realised that they were spending more time discussing anything else but work related things, they dropped their fake pretenses and hung out for the sake of hanging out and enjoying one another’s company. Étienne was an interesting fellow to have around and Edward was fascinated by his way of life. (Had always been, to some extent, he’d read all about it in the letters.)

 It was around that same time that Étienne gave him his phone number (again, but Étienne didn’t seem to recall Edward having it and Edward didn’t say anything), with the specific instructions of calling him whenever he felt like it. Edward returned the favour (in case his friend had misplaced it), with a nervous, shaky hand.

 There had been three accidental four-am phone calls, where a sleepy Étienne had answered the phone, and twice Edward hung up, embarrassed, but on the third, he stayed on the line long enough to apologise and realise that Étienne sounded really sexy, when he was half asleep and spoke French. (And somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what any of that was supposed to mean, but he buried it away and focused on anything else but that.)

 From that point on, he made sure to establish a specific time when they could call each other, since he didn’t want to impose and phone calls could be expensive. It would be a shame to waste money if the other wasn’t there to pick up.

 They spoke of trivial things; anything from the weather, to last night’s game, but after Edward accidentally stumbled on Étienne’s sketchbook, they started exchanging thoughts on current artists and galleries they had visited – art movements they liked, previous artists they had known.

 Edward enjoyed these talks with his friend and he genuinely looked forward to each and every one. Étienne made him laugh and always had an interesting story to share. On top of that, he never asked why he had been absent for so long and why he had often looked out of it when they had run into each other. For that, Edward was thankful. He didn’t feel ready to relive that particular moment of his life and he didn’t want to share the details just yet.

 The only problem with his friendship with Étienne was that he was slowly falling for him and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let that happen. For so many reasons. Étienne was his friend, for starters, and Edward was pretty sure Étienne wasn’t interested in him that way (and that was fine, really.) Edward thought that maybe it was just his body reacting to someone being nice to him and genuinely seeming to enjoy his company after so long.

 He was okay with being friends, but he had heard enough about Étienne and his multitude of escapades and thirsts to hope that he would fit his criteria – that maybe Étienne would at least... show some interest – just once, or something (and then he berated himself all over again for thinking that way).

 But, apparently, he didn’t.

 Edward just hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid to ruin this as well.

 The other problem was that Étienne had invited him to spend a few days at his place. They were collaborating on a zine, some crazed idea Étienne had excitedly told him over the phone a while back, and Étienne figured they would get more work done, if they were standing in the same room.

 Edward had no problem with that, but it meant spending so much more time with his friend and after his last two dreams, he wasn’t sure he wanted Étienne to remain just a friend anymore. (And was he even okay with wanting that from Étienne after everything that had happened? The short answer was yes, the longer answer was more complicated.)

 Yet, when he landed at the airport, Étienne was there to greet him and for a moment, he conveniently forgot about his ordeal. They took a cab back to Étienne’s place, in the Plateau, and when Edward offered to pay, Étienne refused.

 His friend gave him the grand tour of the apartment, before Edward was shown to his room. It was small, stuffed to the brim with Habs merchandise, but Edward thought it suited the other man. When Étienne told him he had put some away, he laughed.

 Étienne then took him out to explore the city. It was a whirlwind of public transportation and many different sites. From le parc Lafontaine, to le Mont-Royal, passing by the Olympic Stadium, it was a busy afternoon and Edward was glad Étienne knew the city inside and out. It was nice to actually spend time in the city that wasn’t related to work or some grand event that took up all their time.

 Edward told himself he would do something brash, to figure out whether or not he actually had a chance with Étienne, and if his friend was interested in him. Of course, he wouldn’t do anything too drastic, just something that would help him read Étienne.

 He decided he would take Étienne’s hand.

 Or, at least, he would try to. He hoped that by doing so, Étienne would, hopefully, take his hand and then they could move on from there.

 But, if Étienne didn’t... then, well, they could always be friends and he could always dismiss this whole thing.

 The problem was, though, that every time he summoned enough courage to take Étienne’s hand, his friend either scratched his face, fixed his glasses, pushed up his bag strap, or did ten million other things with his hand that impeded him from taking it.

 Edward was half convinced that Étienne was doing it on purpose, as they stepped out of the métro, to get back to Étienne’s apartment. However, just as they made it to the door, he saw his opening.

 He took a deep breath, counted to three, hoped his hand wasn’t too sweaty, and made a wild grab for Étienne’s hand.

 He held his breath and waited for either of two things to happen; Étienne would push him away, or Étienne would take his hand.

 Instead, Étienne did absolutely nothing.

 And it slowly broke him inside.

 Edward was about to let go and write this whole thing off, but then, to his shock and surprise, Étienne did something.

 Étienne squeezed his hand back.

 He looked at his friend, but Étienne’s face was unreadable. The other man looked right ahead of him, as they walked back to the apartment. Edward looked away from him and to the ground, not feeling any better. Sure, Étienne was holding his hand, but that was it.

 If Edward gave himself time to think about it, Étienne’s hand was surprisingly warm and not at all what he had been expecting. His skin was rough in some places, soft in others, he was pretty sure he could feel a callous, or maybe it was just a dry patch of skin, but Edward didn’t want to let go.

 --

 By the time they got home, Étienne was a nervous wreck. He liked Edward, he really did that was never the problem and had never been.

 He had tried flirting with him, on a number of occasions, but it always seemed as though Edward was more interested in friendship than romance. He didn’t mind, really, and he wasn’t even sure if his suspicions about his friend were even right.

 But then, when Edward took his hand, everything changed.

 For the first time, in a very long time, he was interested in someone for more than sex. Usually, Étienne never bothered with feelings and emotions. It was all about the sex. He wanted it, he went after it. However, Edward was different. He liked spending time and getting to know him. He enjoyed the phone calls they shared and the lunches they took together. He wanted to get to know Edward, in ways he never allowed himself to, and it scared him.

 He was afraid that he or his reputation would scare off Edward, but when the other man took his hand, he completely froze. It seemed as though the very air around them stilled and he tried not to think about what any of this could mean. He avoided looking at Edward and instead, focused on getting home.

 When they did, he was on autopilot. He had to let go of Edward’s hand to open the door, and when he stepped in, he caught a brief glance of his bright, red cheeks. He quickly went to the kitchen, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed.

 “D’you want anything to drink?” He called back, rummaging through his fridge. “I was gonna have a beer.” “Or five.” He added, as an afterthought, in his head.

 “Oh, sure, thanks.”

 “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right out.” He took a long sip of his beer, tried a few deep breaths, and attempted to calm down, before he joined Edward in the living room.

 They sat side by side, in silence, and drank their beers. Étienne wanted to say something, but the only thing running in his head was the feeling of Edward’s hand in his, and he didn’t know how to bring that up.

 Instead, by the time he reached the end of his beer bottle, he excused himself and retrieved another one. They sat apart on the couch, both lost in their own thoughts, until Étienne silently slumped his head on Edward’s shoulder.

 “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I actually really like you.” He murmured, in the fold of Edward’s neck, his breath warm against equally warm skin.

 Edward tensed and didn’t know what to say or do. Étienne liked him? As in liked him liked him? He remained perfectly still and held his breath, afraid he would miss Étienne’s strange confession. However, his friend had nothing else to say.

 He was starting to think he had hallucinated everything, safe for the fact that Étienne’s head was on his shoulder, when he felt the other’s hand on his, once more.

 Confused, he looked at their joined hands and hesitantly took it back, before turning to face Étienne.

 He had never noticed how green his eyes were and he felt drawn to them.

 For a moment, they simply looked at each other, not saying a word, and held hands. Edward felt Étienne caress the top of his hand, with his thumb, and he never wanted this to end, even though his heart was probably beating too fast.

 “I... I... I like you too.” He finally managed to say. He hoped the sky wouldn’t fall on his head and he held his breath for a moment longer, waiting for the apocalypse. When that didn’t happen, he chanced another look at Étienne and saw the prettiest of smiles blossom on his face.

 He wanted to see so many more.

 “I’m glad. I’m sorry for earlier... you took me by surprise.”

 Edward let out a nervous laugh and gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s okay. I guess... I wanted your attention and I didn’t know how to get it.”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to startle you. I can be a handful, sometimes. I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t return your feelings.”

  Edward couldn’t take his eyes away from Étienne’s face. He was attracted to it, there was no point denying it, and he felt his heart flutter, when he realised how close they were and the proximity of their bodies.

 “No, really, it’s fine.” He was starting to think that maybe this was where he would have his first kiss, but the magic had to end, when the phone rang. Étienne apologised and went to answer.

 When he returned, he suggested they start working on the zine. Edward had almost completely forgotten about it and he would have preferred returning to that earlier moment, when they had been holding hands, on the couch.

 He helped Étienne set up the materials on his living room floor, before they started working. It was a good thing he enjoyed the work, for he was able to put his earlier thoughts to the back of his mind quickly, as he got engrossed in the layout of the zine.

 Étienne had made a few prints for it and he was busy inking the one they would use for the next issue, while Edward pasted the pictures. Neither one of them realised the time that went by, as they had another beer and the floor became an extension of their work. It was only when Étienne went to retrieve his other brush from his bedroom that Edward realised the beautiful mess they had created.

 With his brush in hand, Étienne fell back to his spot and looked at Edward’s hand at work. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, as he noticed his friend scrunch up his nose in concentration. He thought it was adorable.

 There was a smudge of paint on his cheek and some under his fingernails, as well. Étienne watched Edward’s hands dance on the paper. He looked at the curve of his fingers and the bend of his joints. He watched as he folded and glued the paper meticulously in place, and he felt his heart race.

 “Hey,” Edward paused and looked up. Étienne smiled at him, from his half-lying position.

 “Yes?”

 “I was thinking of something.” Edward gave him a curious look, as he capped his glue stick, his full attention on him.

 “Yes?”  He repeated.

 “I wanna try something. Close your eyes.” Edward wanted to inquire about his idea, but something about the way Étienne looked at him made him obey.

 “’Kay, keep ‘em closed.” He waited for whatever it was that was supposed to come. He was about to ask his friend what it was he wanted to try, when he heard the rustle of fabric, followed by the soft pressure of a pair of foreign lips on his own.

 Surprised and shocked, Edward opened his eyes quickly and found Étienne leaning close, kissing him.

 His mind stilled and ran twice as fast, as his breathing turned laboured and his hands grew sweaty. He waited for the worst and knew something bad was about to happen. Someone would crash in, he would be sent back there, Étienne would tell him this had been all a joke, or he would wake up, alone, in his own bedroom. But then Étienne simply pulled away.

 “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to – I just thought –”

 “Do it again.” He rasped out. Étienne blinked and looked at him.

 “What?”

 “Kiss me again.” He said, a little louder, feeling more confident, when Étienne smiled.

 This time, he was ready, when Étienne dipped his head and caught his lips between his own. He met him halfway and dared to tangle a hand in Étienne’s curly, brown locks. He let the other man lead him through his first kiss and mimicked everything he did; unafraid, exploring.

 When Étienne pushed him back, he let himself fall on the discarded papers, allowing his friend’s hands to run down his body. He had never felt so alive and he never wanted it to stop.

 He looked up into Étienne’s inquiring green eyes and smiled reassuringly at the question he read in them, when they pulled away, breathless. There was a piece of paper stuck in his dishevelled hair and a splash of blue India ink by his chin. He could count the marks on his face, if he wanted to, but he would have preferred kissing them one by one. For a moment, they stayed like that, with Étienne hovering over him, until he reached for his friend’s hand and threaded their fingers again.

 “You can do it again.” He grinned.

 “I plan to, and we’ll keep the rest for later.” Étienne murmured, warm in his ear, before he sought his lips for a third consecutive time, pressing down on him. Edward easily parted his lips for him and allowed himself to feel, for the very first time.

 He was Edward, he was alive, free, and he was kissing another man.

 FIN 14

 Started writing: May 9th 2015, 5:22pm

Finished typing: May 10th 2015, 1:23am

Started typing: May 10th 2015, 12:12pm

Finished typing: May 10th 2015, 3:20pm