#let jake get flustered you cowards !!!! let him get all dewy over rich!!!! just let it happen

[setsfirearchive]

       im gay for richjake and dont have an icon so take this unformatted idea loosely based on some tw!tter antics that i had at 4:30 this morning

     morning light filters lazily through the gap in the curtains like it has somewhere better to be, and rich rolls over with a groan. he’s met with a solid warmth, a breathing mass of slightly freckled skin and groggy smiles --- his heart falters, for just a second. the way jake looks in the morning is something that needs to be appreciated; and that he does, propped up on one elbow as his boyfriend slides out of bed and stretches lithely, turning off his alarm with a practiced kind of exhaustion. the sun makes him look golden, stood in the dim air of michael’s spare room. 

      once he’s found his shirt and donned it, and rich’s fun is over, the shorter of the two gets up, knuckling moodily at his eyes. it’s five o’clock, an early rise for rich but just another thursday for jake. he’s working a long shift tonight, as well as finishing off his summer packets, and that fact alone is enough to coax rich into making breakfast before noon. the two boys don’t talk to each other just yet; it’s criminal to speak to rich before he downs some kind of beverage, and jake needs to shake himself out of the tiredness that settles in every crease of his skin. it’s a system they’ve had worked out since they met, and it works just fine for the both of them.

      five-thirty rolls around and rich has used the last of michael’s butter to make them both bacon and toast, coffee for jake and tea for himself. tabletop chatter is easy and constant, jake’s light voice a contrast to rich’s gravelly and gruff morning tones that don’t seem to fade until around eleven. all the while, their hands are joined by their breakfast plates, jake’s left with rich’s right. it’s romantic until rich needs to cut his bacon and jake won’t let go, resulting in a small wrestling match, laughter bouncing off of the kitchen walls, rattling the utensils and leaving them both bright eyed. this part is never the hard part.

      the hard part is walking jake to the door, watching his gaze flicker to his car and then back to rich, lips stretched in a thin smile. the hard part is knowing that jake is so tired, under so much pressure, but not being able to do anything about it. the hard part is being so in love that it aches, but living with the fact that the thirty minute time gap between waking up and breakfast can’t last forever. jake leans down to kiss him, and rich responds readily, heart hurting in his chest.

      they kiss for some time, a gentle affair that matches the light breeze sending goosebumps over rich’s exposed arms. eventually, jake speaks, somewhat dazed, eyes glazed, voice low. “stop it. i’m gonna be late.” the smile in his voice is evident, and he touches rich’s hip so lightly, so sweetly. there’s something about rich goranski, and jake has allowed himself the one self indulgent thing in his life; loving it unconditionally. 

      “then be late,” rich teases, though they both know he doesn’t mean it. jake’s extracurriculars and jobs are integral, and rich would never take away from that. there’s nothing he wants more than for jake to feel secure and to feel better and, well, if busying himself with just about every academic and leisurely pursuit out there did that for him, rich supported it more than he could ever put into words. their lips meet again, a devastatingly gentle and brief encounter.

     “rich.” it’s a plea, a crease between jake’s eyebrows. the message is clear; if you kiss me again, i won’t be able to stop.

      “jake,” comes the reply, soft and understanding. rich takes a step back, expression as vulnerable as a new bruise. “go, then. don’t want you to get shit at work. text me on your break, ace.”

      they share a smile, light and warm. jake shoves his hands in his pockets and turns on his heel, headed for his car, parked on the street outside the gate. rich watches him go, a confession stuck in his throat. summing up all the courage he can muster, he calls out, voice brave and strong in the sleepy morning; “jake!”

      he turns, eyes catching the light, lips pulled into a crooked smirk. “miss me already, goranski?”

      the tips of rich’s ears shade a deep red, fading nicely into the unstyled curls of his hair. “ha, funny. uh --- have a good day, dillinger.” for a moment, he thinks he’s lost his nerve, scuffing his foot against the step of the door. then it swells in his chest, and the words slip out, easy as breathing; “i love you.”

      for a moment, jake is stunned into silence. they’d been together for a while, long enough for him to know all about rich’s struggles with his bisexuality, the hard time he had admitting his affection and the aftereffects of the squip. it had always just been an assumption of jake’s; they were best friends, rich had stuck around through countless things, of course they loved each other --- but there’s something about this being the first time it was said, the intensity and anxiety on rich’s face --- in three steps, jake is toe to toe with his boyfriend once more, holding his face in both hands and kissing them both breathless.

      “i love you, too, goranski.” gentle smile, soft words. “now, leave me alone. i’m not gonna be late.”

      he clears the space between rich and the car without looking back. the whole way, there’s a light colour on his face, chest tight with emotion and something else that jake can’t quite place. rich loves him. rich loves him, and rich trusts him, and it feels so good he can’t stop grinning.

      he still makes it to work five minutes early.