nemesis; part two.
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.
♡ landing page ♡
word count: 4.9K
tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!
notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))
lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.
With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.
So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?
Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.
It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.
Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.
To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.
“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”
“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.
“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”
Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?
Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.
“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.
“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.
“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.
“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.
If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?
“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.
“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”
His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?
“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”
“Yeah?”
“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.
He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.
“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.
“Goodnight, chef.”
“Night.”
He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.
He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.
It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.
He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.
He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.
He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.
Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.
Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.
Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.
Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?
[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.
[carmen]: well
[carmen]: I want to apologise
[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this
[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person
[carmen]: if you’d let me
[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk
[carmen]: please
The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.
But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.
That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.
You wondered what that meant.
Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.
Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.
It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.
He had no choice but to look now.
Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?
You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.
“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.
“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.
“Do you want a coffee?”
“Sorry I was late.”
You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.
“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”
“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”
“Hm?”
“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.
You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.
You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.
Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.
Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.
“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.
“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.
“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.
“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”
“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”
“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.
“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.
“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.
"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.
"You don't do this often, do you?"
"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"
"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.
"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“
“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.
“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”
“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”
“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?
“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”
“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.
"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."
His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.
"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.
"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"
"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.
"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.
"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.
"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."
Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.
You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.
“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”
“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.
“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”
Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”
“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”
“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.
“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”
“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.
“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.
“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”
You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.
“I’m sorry?”
He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.
“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.
“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”
You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.
“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.
“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.
“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”
“…Is that you saying yes?”
“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.
“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.
“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.
Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.
“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”
You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.
He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.
“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.
“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.
“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”
“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.
“That you’re selling them the business.”
“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?
“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”
“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.
“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”
You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”
He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.
He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.
Never with him.
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hs!dave chapter 3 (d.d)
A/N: this would never be possible without @idkdobrik or @occasionally-angelic! bffs. love em. follow em. sorry this took so long. all 3 of us kind of have lives and all that. this took months. i hope u see why! let me know what you think, as always. would love if u sent me asks as you read (;
Word Count: 14,862
much love to ya
Everything had been resolved. You had given Nat an excuse as to why you and Dave had been cuddling on her couch - something about still being shaken up from the situation at the party and needing comfort. A video of the fight went around for a bit, rumors spreading about whatever was going on between you and David, but everyone forgot about it as soon as some guy from your history class got caught jerking off in the locker room. Everything had been swept under the rug, and no one suspected a thing.
++
“Ilya’s not coming, but I brought Empire Strikes Back,” Dima announces, not bothering to say hello as he comes through Nat’s front door and kicks his shoes off. He notices you and David sitting on the couch whispering to each other, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight.
“No, Dima! We are not watching Star Wars again!” Natalie shouts from the kitchen, opening a bag of popcorn and putting it in the microwave. Her denial distracts Dima as you and Dave don’t respond to his arrival, whispers continuing.
“Fine! You pick, Nat,” Dima easily gives in, approaching her and dropping his voice. “Is it just me or are they acting really weird? Like, fucking weird.”
Nat nods quickly, leaning back against the counter as she waits on the popcorn. “I was gonna ask you that too. Maybe they’re just getting close again? You know they’re like that. They get really far apart and then close again and it just happens over and over.”
“I mean, yeah, you're right. Maybe? It just seems different this time, I guess,” Dima shrugs his shoulders, eyes flickering between Natalie and you and David.
“I know, I agree. Have they done anything weird around you?”
“I mean,” Dima shrugs again, “You weren’t there, but a few weeks ago, at homecoming, they were all touchy in the corner against the wall.”
“Touchy?” Nat questions as the microwave goes off, quickly opening it and removing the bag.
“Yeah, like, Y/N’s arms were around his neck and she kept pulling him closer and he let her. I honestly thought they were making out at first. They’ve just never been like that before. I thought it was just because she was drunk?”
“Nonono, you’re right. That next morning, after the party and after everything with Jordan happened, I came downstairs and they were cuddling on the couch. Like, passed out and all wrapped up in each other. It was weird as hell,” Natalie tears the bag of popcorn open and carefully dumps it into a bowl, “They said it was because she was super upset afterwards. I don’t doubt that part, it’s just unlike David to do that. Like, pretty sure he wouldn’t do that for me if I asked him to, you know?”
“Do you think something is going on between them?” Dima asks, still attempting to keep his voice low.
“Ugh,” she scrunches her face up, “I hope not. That’d be so gross. And weird. I don’t think there’s anything, though.”
Natalie shoves the bowl into Dima’s hands as she begins to make her way to one of her cabinets in the living room, eyes scanning through DVD’s as she picks a random rom-com.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Natalie,” Dima complains, “You traded Star Wars for Clueless?”
“Yes? David? Y/N? Do you care?”
You and David quickly mumble a no, not really and return to your whispers.
“Okay, then we’re starting,” Natalie ignores Dima’s sigh of disbelief as she pops the DVD into the player.
“Wait, Nat. We’re gonna go for a smoke first,” David interrupts her, pushing himself off of the couch and grabbing his cigarettes from the side table. You follow him and mirror his actions, moving towards the front door.
“Fine, but don’t take a long time. I don’t know why you guys started that shit in the first place.” You both ignore her comment and go out front, quickly removing a cigarette from your respective packages.
David’s stare lingers for a few seconds as you prop your cigarette between your lips and light it, looking away as you catch him.
“What was that look for?”
“It’s nothing,” he promises, lighting his own and puffing it. You don’t push it, falling into a comfortable silence for a minute before David leans down to attach your lips.
Cigarette still between your fingers, both hands come to his cheeks as you reciprocate his kisses.
++
“Why aren’t they saying anything?” Dima complains in a whisper, ear pressed against Natalie’s front door.
“You’re wasting your time, Dima,” Natalie says, “They’re probably just close again. You’re being fucking creepy, stop it!”
“I just wanna know-”
“Know what? If they’re hiding something from us, there’s probably a good reason behind it. Just wait it out. If there’s something going on, as weird as that’d be, they’ll tell us eventually.”
“Fine, but I’m still keeping an eye out for weird shit,” Dima replies, moving from his knees back to his feet, “I hate this - it feels like they’re lying to us.”
“Why? You don’t even know if anything’s actually happening.” He simply shrugs as you and David open the door and emerge, reeking of tobacco and tar as you place yourselves next to each other on Natalie’s loveseat. Natalie silently hits play on the DVD player as you and Dave pile up in blankets, leaning into opposite cushions to seem as far apart as possible.
You feel David’s hand creep over, fingers lacing with yours under the copious amount of layers. Neither of you say anything as the movie begins, elbows propped up on the arms of the couch, intertwined hands between you.
“Doesn’t she get with her step brother or something? That’s so fucking gross,” David gripes for everyone to hear, squeezing at your hand.
“Ex-step brother, Dave,” you gently remind in a whisper, scooting closer to him.
David's voice drops so only you can hear, “That's not much better, baby. Still gross.” The blush that comes to your cheeks is almost immediately clocked by Dima and Natalie, both of them sharing a quick look before returning their attention to the TV.
Dave continues making snarky comments for the majority of the movie before asking Natalie to pause it.
“Why?”
“I just - we need another smoke, okay?” The roll of Natalie’s eyes is obvious as you both stand, grabbing your cigarettes and, this time, moving towards her back door.
You both place yourselves on her lawn furniture, silently pulling the objects out of their packages and propping them between your lips.
You begin to flick your lighter before David makes a noise, shaking his head and taking it from you. His lit cigarette is dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flicks your lighter, lighting the stick for you. He drops your lighter back into your hand and takes his cigarette back between his two fingers.
“Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes,” he says quickly, meeting your eyes before bringing his back up to his lips.
“You’ve never done that before,” you question him, blush rising in your cheeks.
“I wasn’t fucking you before,” Dave explains nonchalantly between puffs, shaking his head slightly.
“So shouldn’t it be hot girls? Not pretty girls? You don’t usually call girls you’re just fucking pretty.”
David shrugs slightly, “Why does it matter if you’re both? Which one would you rather be?”
You go silent for a few seconds, mulling over your response, “...Pretty.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause you’re the only guy who’s ever called me that. Besides, like, my dad.”
He gapes slightly, shaking his head, “Jesus. What kind of guys have you been dating?”
“Shitty ones, I guess.”
“No shit. You’ve always been beautiful, you should be told that.” David meets your eyes again, free hand moving to the top of your thigh.
“You’ve always thought that?” You ask, cheeks becoming redder and redder the more he continues. Your hand comes to rest over his, quickly moving to lace your fingers together.
“Yeah, I just - I never said it ‘cause I thought it was weird. I wish I had, though.” David leans back in his seat, bringing your intertwined hands up and kissing the back of it before gently dropping them back into his lap.
“I wish you’d taken my virginity,” you say, squeezing his hand and maintaining eye contact.
Your confession makes his eyes widen, “Why? I took your first kiss freshman year, isn’t that enough?”
You shrug, “Exactly! It was perfect. You’ve always treated me so much better than anybody else. Like...always. Why did we never do this before? It would’ve saved me so much hurt.”
David finishes his cigarette, stamping the butt into Natalie’s parents’ ashtray and sinking slightly into his seat.
“I don’t know if I would’ve done it before, baby,” he admits.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know then what I know now.”
“So you only did it because you felt bad for me?” You hastily pull your hand out of his, putting out your cigarette.
“What? No, of course not-”
“If this is just a pity fuck, then forget it.” You rise to your feet and move towards the door, David grabbing your wrist and forcing you to turn back to him.
“It’s not a pity fuck,” you look at him uncertainly, “Just hear me out, baby, okay? Sit down.”
He takes one of your cigarettes from the pack and hands it to you, taking the liberty to light it once you’re sat beside him again.
“Before...you never told me anything. I didn’t know anything other than what people told me or rumors I heard, and you played it off so well. I didn’t think you were a slut or anything, but I didn’t know how these guys were treating you. I thought you were into it. It’s not about pity. You should be treated the way you deserve, and if I can do that for you, then great.” You sigh, your cigarette shaking as your hand trembles. David puts his hand on top of yours, making you look up at him.
“I just want you to see what you’re worth. When I look at you, I don’t just see something I wanna fuck. You’re my best friend, baby. I’m more interested in that.”
You don’t say anything, bringing the menthol back up to your lips and looking away from him.
“You know this is so much more than a pity fuck,” he adds, “You know I care about you, so why won’t you let me in?”
You glance at him briefly before looking back at your hands, watching the end of your cigarette burn.
“I'm fucking scared, David,” you admit in a whisper, eyes welling up with tears.
“Hey, are you guys gonna be any longer?” Natalie steps out, slightly annoyed. Her face drops when you turn and her eyes land on you.
“Are you okay?”
“Just keep going without us, Nat, we’ll be back in a few,” David speaks up, careful not to answer for you.
“Y/N…” She ignores his plead, looking at you for confirmation.
“I’m fine, Natalie,” you feign, wiping away your tears with your free hand. “You and Dima keep going. Please.”
Natalie doesn’t answer, warily nodding her head and retreating inside.
David waits until the door clicks shut to resume your conversation, taking your hand in his once more, “Why are you scared? It’s just me, baby.”
“I’ve never had this before, Dave! Even if this is just platonic, I’ve never had a guy treat me this way before. I don’t know how to handle it.” You nervously bring the cigarette to your lips, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke.
“Just let me do this for you. Please, babe. You don’t have to ‘handle’ it at all,” his free hand flies up, quickly creating air quotes before coming back down, “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you. Or even the way Nat sees you. Like what I said before, if this,” he motions between you, “what’s going on between us, helps with that? Even just a little bit? It’s worth it to me.”
“I just don’t want to fuck this up for myself-”
“You won’t! Don’t worry about that shit - I’m not leaving you, okay? I love you so much. If you want me to stop, I will; if you want to stop all of this between us, we can; whatever you want. Do not think I’m sitting here with you out of pity. Ever.” David’s fingers reach for your cigarette, plucking it from your hold and taking a drag.
He exhales, still holding the object between his thumb and forefinger, making a face at the taste. “God, I forgot how terrible menthol is. Take this shit back.”
You stifle a giggle, taking it from him and wiping your tears. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek as your fingers brush, moving over slightly to attach your mouths.
He kisses you slowly, still tasting the menthol on your lips and gently pulling away. Faces still close and hands still intertwined, David breaks, “I love you, baby. As friends.”
You can barely murmur an agreement before he's beginning again, “I love you, but I need to get this fucking taste out of my mouth before I kiss you again. How do you smoke these?” He’s playfully griping in hopes of making you feel better, reaching for his cigarettes - a pack of Reds. Dave’s hand briefly leaves yours to pull a stick from the package and place it between his lips, left hand cupping around the lighter as his right hand flicks it. He holds the flame for a few seconds, watching it burn before stopping it, tossing the box and lighter onto the side table.
His hand immediately returns to yours as he takes a deep drag, exhaling slowly. “You’d tell me if I’m doing something wrong, right?”
“Yeah. Of course.” David nods solemnly at your response, goofy facade fading as he slinks backwards into his seat, pulling you with him. At second thought, he unlinks your hands, arm draping around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, free hand moving to rest on his chest, watching it fall gently with each exhale. You feel his heart beating gently under your fingertips as you move up slightly, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek and mumbling a Thank you, David, I love you. You feel him nod slightly as he continues working on finishing his cigarette, murmuring a quiet You’re welcome. I love you, too.
“And you know I’d do anything for you?” Dave questions a minute later, normal speaking voice this time, clearing his throat slightly and rolling his cigarette between his fingers. You nod against him, fingertips digging into his chest slightly as you press your body closer into him.
His hand falls to your waist, rubbing lightly and affectionately, “Good. Let’s go in.” He leans forward a bit, putting out his cigarette and beginning to rise to his feet.
You tug on him slightly once you stand, “Kiss me before we go?” David nods without a second thought, head dipping as both hands tangle in your hair, mouths attaching. You melt into the taste of his cigarettes as he breathes harshly, deepening the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away entirely.
He follows you inside of the house, immediately apologizing on your behalf to Natalie and Dima.
“It’s okay!” Natalie swears, “Are you guys still staying the night?”
Despite not glancing at each other, you and Dave share the same uneasy expression before Nat begs once more, “Come on! It’s never just us four anymore, and it’s one of the last nights of the break before school starts. It’ll be fun!”
David is the first to accept, quickly saying, “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve gotta go get more smokes, though.”
Natalie quickly deflates before he adds, “We’ll be back in, like, an hour. Hour and a half at the most. I swear.”
++
You and David walk silently from Natalie’s house down the block to his place for his car, hands intertwined and swinging slightly.
It isn’t until you get in the car you begin to realize how cold it is outside, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to try and warm them up.
“Hey, do you have a jacket or something? I forgot mine.”
“Yeah, there’s a hoodie in the backseat.” David starts the car as you reach into the back to grab the hoodie, pulling it on and slumping back into your seat.
“Why’d we leave if we don’t need cigarettes? We just got some this morning.”
David shrugs, reaching over to grab your hand again once he’s pulled out of the driveway, “I know you wanted it to just be us for a while, so I got us out - especially since we’re staying the night now. Are you feeling any better?”
You shrug slightly at the question, squeezing his hand, “Thanks.”
He nods, momentarily going silent to mull over his next words. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, aware of your fragile state.
“Hey,” he squeezes your hand to get your attention once more, causing you to turn your head back to him, “I know what’ll make you feel better, baby.”
You sigh, a frown evident on your face, “Dave, I’m really not in the mood to fuck right now-“
“What? No, of course not,” he cuts you off, “That’s not what I was gonna say.”
You look at him, waiting for him to tell you what he’s planning. He continues to drive silently, not elaborating. You don’t think twice about the route he’s taking until he’s pulling into the Wendy's parking lot.
“Ice cream fixes everything.”
He parks the car, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and removing the keys from the ignition before hopping out. You roll your eyes at his movements, smile coming to your lips as you begin digging through your purse for your debit card. David takes the opportunity, while you’re idle, to move to the other side of the car, opening it for you.
He props himself against the door patiently before spotting the card in your hand, shaking his head, “Put your card away, I’m paying.”
You roll your eyes once more as you get out, “I just got paid, David, it’s fine. I swear.”
“And I’m getting paid tomorrow. Baby, I’ve got it. Seriously.”
“I’m not letting you pay,” you insist as Dave moves off of the door, shutting it behind you.
“Uh uh. No. It’s on me. I’m the guy!” He’s glued to his spot on the cement, fingers fiddling with the keys attached to his lanyard.
“Guys only pay on dates!” You defend, hands going up in the air.
“Then fuck it, this is a date!” He raises his voice slightly, hands mirroring yours as he steps closer, “Who gives a shit? Come on, baby. Just let me pay.”
“Fine,” you give in, sighing and moving to put your card back in your purse, “It’s a date. You win.”
“I loooove you,” he drags out, swinging his arm around your neck and pulling you into his side. His lips plant a quick, wet kiss to your cheek, “As friends.”
You murmur a reciprocation before he drops his arm to open the restaurant door for you, free hand coming to your waist as he ushers you in.
You turn and stop in your tracks once you’re in, hand moving to rest his on his chest as you look up at him and meet his eyes, “Davey, baby, thank you. Seriously.”
David doesn’t think twice before murmuring a you’re welcome, beginning to lean in as his fingers come up to tilt your chin.
“Oh, shit,” he exclaims, annoyed, eyes cutting to a table inside, “It’s Courtney.” He expects you to share his worry as he takes a step back, hand leaving you gently.
“So? She’s with her parents,” You ask, apathetic, moving up on your toes in an attempt to lean in once more.
“So?” He pushes you away softly, “She has a big mouth - you know that. I was about to kiss you, but she’ll tell everyone. She doesn’t know how to shut up.”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning against a window behind you.
“Shit, she’s coming over. Act normal. Thank fucking God she’s leaving.”
“What’s normal?” You scoff slightly, quickly getting annoyed with his attempts to cover his tracks.
“Act like we don’t fuck, dumbass,” he hisses quietly as she approaches, only for you to hear.
Courtney’s crush on David is common knowledge, and for reasons unknown, the thought always gets under your skin. Nothing is wrong with her; she’s a pretty cheerleader with a squeaky clean reputation. You’re currently battling the spots for valedictorian and salutatorian with her, something she’s very serious (and bitchy) about. She’s occasionally rude to you, most likely because of your closeness with David and academic competition, but you don’t hold either of them against her.
“Hey David!” she grins, glancing at you over her shoulder, “Y/N.”
You nod at her with a tight lipped smile before her eyes drop to your torso, lip snarling up and eyebrows scrunching together.
“Why are you wearing David’s sweater?”
“I forgot my jacket,” you explain, arms still crossed, “Why are you wearing your uniform on Thanksgiving break? The season ended last week.”
Her jaw clenches and you can see David behind her attempting to not laugh, hand over his mouth.
“Anyways,” she turns back to David, ignoring your question, “My parents are out of town next weekend once we start school again. I'm having a party - Friday night, if you wanna come. It’s to celebrate the end of the season. You can bring someone.”
David catches on to the exclusive invitation, immediately turning it on its head as he shrugs, “Sure. We’ll be there,” his head nodding towards you. Courtney’s head dips, faking a smile at you before waving goodbye to David, strutting out the door. You wait until it’s closed before turning back to him, removing your weight from the window.
“God, she is so far up your ass-”
“Shut up,” David cuts you off with a giggle, head dipping and lips attaching to yours. You feel his hands move to your waist as he slides his tongue gently against yours, smile coming to his lips a few seconds later as he leans out.
“Go get a booth, baby. I’ll order.”
He walks over soon after you sit down, tray in hand. He slides it onto the table before placing himself in the seat across from you.
“Did you ever fuck Courtney?” You casually ask, tossing a fry into your mouth. David nearly chokes at the question.
“Ew, no, what the fuck? Why?” David shoos your hand away from his fries, “Hands off my fries. You know they’re for my frosty.”
You and David always get opposite flavors, swapping halfway through. He dips his fries in them as he shovels spoonfuls of the ice cream in his mouth, plaguing whichever frosty he got first dibs on.
“I’m just wondering,” you shrug, reaching for the vanilla frosty and a spoon, removing it from the plastic, “Why not? She probably would, she’s super into you. She’s a cheerleader!”
“She’s not my type and babe, she’s a flyer. She’s like, a hundred pounds. I’d split her in half,” David meets your eyes as he scoops a fry into the ice cream, shoving it into his mouth.
“Yeah? What’s your type?” You slowly spoon it into your mouth, eyeing the quickly decreasing level of David’s frosty.
“You,” he says simply in between bites, “Your body’s a wet dream for every dude ever. You’re the reason I even have a type.”
You blush slightly at the statement, “If I’m your type, then you’ve fucked other girls that look like me?”
He scoffs lightly, shaking his head, “No. Not at all. People like you are hard to find, you know? In all aspects, not just how you look.”
Your head tilts slightly to the side, “You look for people like me?”
“I mean. Yeah. You’re my girl, my favorite girl - always have been, whether you knew it or not. I’ve always looked for girls like you, you know? Like, in my head, they were always compared to you. Unfair for them, really. There’s no contest, they’re never gonna win. No one does when they’re up against you, especially not now. My love life will be royally fucked now. Are you done with your half?” You nod quickly, David’s spoon moving to his mouth and remaining as he swaps the cups between you.
“Why?” Your eyes watch his lips as he removes the spoon from his mouth, placing it in the cup. You mirror his actions.
“‘Cause, like, I don’t have feelings for you, right? Like, at all. But you’re still my, I dunno,” he absentmindedly swirls the melting ice cream with his spoon, attempting to pick the right words, “ideal girl, I guess? You’re the whole package to me - you’re smart, funny, you get good grades, you have goals for yourself, you always know what you want, you’re beautiful, sexy, you kick my ass in tennis, you can throw it back, and fuck, you give me that sloppy, sloppy, sloppy washing machine toppy I love so-.”
“David! Shut up,” you laugh, “I love you, though. As friends.”
He shakes his head at your giggles as he nearly finishes the frosty, “I love you, too. As friends. You’re my good girl, though. Most of the time. I love it.”
You feel yourself melt at his words, “Thank you, baby.” He dips his head, nodding nonchalantly as he forces the last spoonful into his mouth. He tosses the empty cup and spoon onto the tray, hands idle in front of him, fidgety, as he waits for you.
“I’ve been looking for a girlfriend,” David admits, “ever since we started this - so, for like a month now?”
“You don’t like what we do?” You question him, tone light as your eyes remain on the cup in your hand. His statement hurts, oddly - you don’t know why, but part of you feels the need to fill the girlfriend-shaped hole in his life; almost like it has your name written all over it.
“No, baby, I love it,” Dave says quickly, “Way too much. That’s why I’ve been looking, ‘cause I don’t wanna pin all of that on you. I mean, especially ‘cause we’re not gonna date, but I’m giving up on looking. I’m not gonna have any luck. Nobody is you. Like, I’d rather have this type of relationship with you than some half-assed shit with another girl when I’m not really into it and thinking about you the whole time, you know?”
You shrug, meeting his eyes and finishing the ice cream, admitting, “I’d be open to try being with you. You never know what could happen.”
He tuts, shaking his head softly, “I guess, I dunno. I just can’t really picture it. We’ve been friends forever, I wouldn’t wanna ruin that. Plus, the thought just makes me feel weird.”
You shrug once more, making a noise of half-hearted agreement. You attempt to change the subject in hopes of him not hurting your feelings further, “Dave, question. Have you hooked up with anybody else since we’ve started?”
“No, of course not. Didn’t you just hear me?” he jokes, “You’re my girl. You’re more than enough. You’re all I want. Why? Have you?”
“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I don’t know if I can.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?” He watches as you fiddle with your fingers, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I just…I don’t know, Dave. You’ve helped me so much and I just can’t see myself going back to the same shitty football players. Not even just them, like, shitty guys in general. You’re right, you know? I need someone who’s gonna treat me well, and right now that’s you. I think it’s going to stay that way for a while.”
You finally look up, meeting his eyes, once he reaches across the table, grabbing your hand. He quickly moves around the table to slide into your side of the booth, both hands gently sliding into your hair as he leans in, mouths softly attaching.
“That’s always gonna be me, though,” David whispers against your lips, forehead against yours while one hand moves to grip your chin, “I’m always gonna care. You deserve nothing less. I never wanna hurt you.”
His words dig the confusing knife a little deeper as your free hands come to his chest and you nod against him slightly.
You murmur a wimpy, defeated I know before his lips are on yours once more.
He barely kisses you before he’s leaning out a few inches again, breaking, “I’ve actually helped you, then?”
You nod, fingers tangling into his hoodie, breathing out, “Yes. So much.”
“Holy shit,” he whispers in disbelief, “That’s all I wanted. I love you. God, I love you so much.” He kisses you again, much deeper this time, fingers still grasping your chin before adding, “As friends.”
“As friends,” you quickly reaffirm, not entirely meaning the words as David continues his whispers.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Like, earlier at Nat’s? When we were talking about it? It doesn’t matter, I just - wow. You’re my girl,” he says, meaning well, “You’re my girl, baby. Always. No matter what happens. There’s always gonna be me. I love you so much. Just - just let me in. You just have to talk to me.”
You nod slightly in his hold, still gripping his hoodie tight, as he gently pulls away.
“Baby,” you whisper between kisses, “Can we, uh, go to the car?” He nods, both of you quickly getting out of the booth and leaving your garbage on the table, David dragging you out the door.
Your lips are on each other’s again as soon as you’re in the front seat of his car, leaning over the center console and tangling your fingers in his hair. His hands run down your sides quickly, moving to push your shirt up slightly and rest them on your lower back.
“Fuck me, I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, adding a hasty, “Asfriendsthough.”
You pull away in response to his words, forehead against his, suggesting in a whisper, “Backseat?”
“I don’t have any condoms,” he leans out, sighing, “I ran out yesterday.”
“Oh,” you frown, “okay. That’s fine, we can just make out.”
You lean in for a kiss again, hands on his chest. He kisses you for a few seconds before pulling away, seemingly bothered, offering, “I can eat you out?”
“No,” you resist in a whisper, forehead on his, “I wanted to feel you. It’s fine. Let’s just make out.”
Conversation purportedly over, you kiss him once more, fingers moving to grasp at his hoodie and pull him closer. He pulls away from your kiss quicker this time, causing you to roll your eyes in frustration.
“You’re on the pill, right?”
“David, you don’t have to. It's not a big deal, I know you don't want to-“
“Answer the question, Y/N,” he cuts you off, voice stern, “Are you?”
“Yeah, but-“
“Get in the back.”
You stay still for a moment, watching as he shuts the car off and tosses his keys in the cupholder, getting out of the car.
“David-“
“Don’t make me tell you again,” he snaps, slamming the door.
You don’t argue further, climbing over the center console and falling on your back across the backseat as David climbs back in, shutting the door. He quickly settles on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. He leans down to press a hasty, sloppy kiss to your lips, pulling away and sitting up, moving to tug off your shoes.
“David, really, you don’t have to-“
“Stop talking.”
You bite your tongue to keep yourself quiet as he pulls your pants and your underwear off together, throwing them somewhere in the floorboards.
His strict demeanor fades the second he has his mouth back on you, eyes falling shut as he sighs into your kiss.
Your back arches into him, hands moving to his shoulders.
“Off,” David whispers, fingers reaching to tug at the hems of your shirt and hoodie, “Offoffoffoff. Please, baby. Off.”
He successfully pulls them off together, hands scrambling for your bra clasp, murmuring a quiet, “Let me see you, baby.” Although fumbling with the hooks and eyes, he undoes it, gently pushing the straps down the length of your arms and tossing it somewhere into the floorboards.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to doing this with you,” he breathes out, “Or seeing these. Fuck. You’re so pretty.” David dips his head, mouth quickly moving to pay attention to both of your tits.
A few seconds later, he pushes himself back up onto his knees, eyes on you as he pulls his hoodie and shirt over his head. He flings both items onto the floor, forming a pile with your clothes and beginning to shove his boxers and sweatpants down his thighs. He spits into his hand, pumping himself a few times before hovering over you again and lining himself up. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek as he pushes in, lips moving down your jaw and neck.
He only pushes in halfway before stopping, head dropping to your chest. David holds himself up above you, weight on both hands resting on each side of your head.
“Oh, God,” he whimpers, “Oh, fuck.”
You try to buck your hips up further into him, hand on the nape of his neck. He refuses, moving to rest his weight on one arm so his hand can come to your waist to halt your movements. His fingers dig into your skin, hissing a harsh, “Stop it.”
“Are you okay?”
“You’re so wet, fuck. You feel so fucking good - I can't.”
Carefully, he pushes in the rest of the way, letting out a low groan. He starts moving agonizingly slow after a brief pause, worried he’ll cum too quickly - worried he’ll cum before you.
“IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” he whispers repeatedly, leaving soft kisses across your shoulders and brushing the hair out of your face. There's a pause between you, David breathing heavily before adding the dreaded, “As friends.” He plants a gentle, loving kiss to your cheek before he begins to speed up his hips slightly, still somewhat slow.
He continues, steady hips accompanying soft touches and kisses before his hands and lips momentarily leave you. He gently pulls out, causing you to whine and begin bucking up your hips.
David leans down as you whine his name and tug at him, fingers running lovingly through your hair. His head drops, lips wetly planting to your forehead in a sloppy, affectionate kiss.
“Shhh,” he hushes, “It’s okay, baby. Just gimme a sec.”
You meet his eyes and respond, voice small, “...Okay.”
He leans over the center console and you watch as his hand lands on his pack of Marlboros.
“Baby,” you say, hands on his chest as he leans over, “Grab my pack too?”
Wordlessly, Dave does, plucking it from the cup holder also occupied with his car keys. He’s doing some extra digging around, taking too long and restraining you from easing your libido.
You whine once more, hands still on his chest, “Hurry up, Davey, please. I need you right now.”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, free hand delicately lacing with yours, “I need a minute. I can’t find a lighter.”
His actions speed up at your words, quickly locating a Bic and returning to you. Before doing anything else, he untangles your hands and positions himself at your entrance, pushing back in and groaning lowly at the sensation. David pulls a cigarette from each package and hands you yours, fingers brushing gently. You both prop your respective cigarettes between your lips as he leans down, flicking the lighter so the ends of the sticks light simultaneously.
You meet each other's eyes as he does so, staring deeply before he releases the flame and pulls away, placing the lighter down along with your packs of cigarettes.
You watch David as he puffs it, stick between his fingers and free hand resting on your stomach. You eye his lips, exhaling the smoke in your lungs as he does.
“I love you,” you say, placing your cigarette between your lips and taking a drag as you reach for his hand.
Dave’s hips begin moving slowly again, squeezing your hand reassuringly, “As friends?”
You nod, exhaling the smoke before he leans down to attach your lips, the tastes of bitter tobacco and menthol mixing against your tongues. He murmurs a reciprocation before pulling away from the kiss, faces still close as his eyes scan over your face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments in a whisper, squeezing your hand once more before letting go, “I mean it. You’re perfect.”
His hand now comes to your cheek, meeting your eyes before leaning back up and sticking his cigarette back between his lips.
You notice David’s halfway through it now as he continues to steadily move his hips and takes a drag.
“When you’re done,” you break, trailing off, “with the cigarette…”
“Yeah?” The smoke from both of you swirls around the car, windows now foggy, as Dave’s hand gently moves from your cheek to the base of your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, soft palms and rough fingers simply resting there as he meets your eyes again, almost concerned.
“Put it out on me,” you breathe out, free hand moving to reach for his forearm in front of you, “Please, David. Put it out on me. Please.”
His hips stop their movements, David’s voice going soft, “What? Baby, no.”
“Davey,” you whine, “Come on. Please, baby. Just do it. I want it.”
“No,” he still resists, “I don’t wanna hurt you - or scar you. No. I’m not doing that.”
“David,” you push, still begging, “Please. I don’t care. I wanna remember this with you.”
He pauses, exhaling slightly, “...Where?”
Your fingers dig deeper into his forearm at the words, “Anywhere. Please, Davey, baby. Put it out on me.”
“Cum for me first,” he says, “Can you do that for me, honey? By the time I finish it?”
You nod quickly at his request, staring into his eyes as his hips speed up.
“Well?” He asks, tutting softly, “Babygirl, I’m not doing it. This is on you.”
You realize what he’s saying, placing your cigarette between your lips. You take one last drag before moving to roll his window down to toss it out, David’s gentle hand suddenly pushing you down by your neck.
“What are you doing?” His eyes scan over your features, slightly concerned.
“Throwing it out?”
“Give it to me, baby. I’ll do it,” Dave says, quickly putting his cigarette between his lips and moving to roll the window down. He does, removing the cigarette from your fingers and tossing it.
“Fuck, Dave, it’s cold,” you complain, his hand still resting at the base of your throat as he rolls the window back up.
He doesn’t comment, taking a drag from his cigarette and removing it, hips still moving. Your hand moves down to touch yourself, free hand gripping his forearm as he fucks into you.
You whine, back arching against him and legs spreading wider.
“I love you,” David says between puffs, “As friends.”
You simply nod at his statement, hand working faster against yourself as you eye the tip of his cigarette.
Cigarette now propped between his lips, David quickly gets nervous as the signs of your impending orgasm become painstakingly obvious.
“I’m gonna cum,” he admits in a grunt, taking the stick between his fingers again, “You want me to pull out?”
“Nononononono. Please no,” you beg, legs tightening around him, “Inside of me. Please, Davey. Cum with me. Together.”
He nods slightly, “Do you need me to count, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
He begins counting down from ten, feeling your nails dig deeper into his forearm the closer he gets to zero. He watches your face intently as it twists up and you gasp beneath him, quickly leaning down to kiss you before pulling away.
All at once, his hips are stilling as you cum simultaneously, David’s fingers nervously fumbling as he pushes the tip of the lit cigarette into the top of your thigh.
You shriek as he spins the stick and pushes it deeper into your skin, tears slipping out of your eyes. You reach for his hand still holding you down, David denying your request in order to allow him to stop his pain inducing movements. He quickly reaches to roll the window down once more, tossing the cigarette out and rolling the glass back up.
Dave immediately reaches for your hand, squeezing and pressing a kiss to your cheek, breaking, “Please don’t make me do that again.”
He delicately moves his hips, pulling out gently and groaning at the sight of your pussy.
“Oh, fuck me,” David exclaims, letting go of your hand and moving to spread your legs, head between your knees. “Spread them for me, baby. Oh, God.”
Your burn still pulsating, he seemingly forgets momentarily about the harm he had just caused as he swipes his fingers through the mess dripping out of you. Dave pushes his wet fingers past his lips, meeting your eyes as he sucks the remnants of himself off.
His hand moves to your stomach, resting delicately before his voice breaks with a vile request, “Push it out for me, honey.”
David’s eyes now trained on your pussy once more, you moan slightly, trying your best to not think about the stinging burn and gently push his cum out.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, fingers reaching to spread your pussy apart, still watching, “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna ruin me.”
“I can’t look at it anymore,” David says, moving from between your legs, “If I do, I’m gonna get hard again. Fuck me, baby. I’m not gonna wear a condom with you anymore. Not when I know I can see that on the regular.”
David slides you over slightly, settling against the door and pulling you to lay against him, back pressed to his chest. He drags his fingertips across your stomach softly, lovingly kissing the side of your head as you rest it back against his shoulder.
You break the silence as he traces patterns into your skin, “Davey, baby, can I ask you something?” He simply hums in response, waiting for you to continue.
“How many people did you fuck before me? Like, what’s your body count?”
“What?” He asks, voice soft and taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be so forward.
“I’m just curious.”
He sighs, continuing to move his fingers across your skin. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore the question completely.
“Two other girls. So...my body count is three.”
“Have you ever fucked any of my friends?”
“Where is this coming from, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours.”
You shrug in his hold, attempting to ignore the meaning behind his words. You move your head and look up at him as best as you can, hands moving to lace over his.
“I don’t know,” you admit, pausing slightly as David plants a quick, doting kiss to your cheek, “I just realized you know about pretty much everyone I’ve been with, you know? I don’t know the same for you.”
He’s silent again for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of lying - any possible sign of it being a trick question; however, he knows it’s not.
“I haven’t exactly, um, slept with one of your friends...”
You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him in confusion and gripping his hands tighter.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember how I said I fucked someone at the tennis camp we went to?” David faces you forward again, head resting on your shoulder.
You nod in response as he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around you, fingers still intertwined.
“Well…” he trails, voice going soft, nearly hesitant, “Remember your roommate?”
Your eyes widen at the realization, “Holy shit. You fucked her?”
He nods against you before you turn to look him over, his face giving you an impression of his regret.
You can’t help but laugh slightly until you realize something, “Oh my God, David, was I in the room? Please tell me I wasn’t.”
“Maybe...” he admits half-heartedly, voice going up an octave.
“David!” You sit up, quickly untangling your hands and smacking his chest.
“You were sleeping!” He offers, attempting to grab your hands once more.
“No! Gross! Ugh, ew! Why?” You deny his tries and turn in his lap to face him, arms draped around his shoulders.
“Baby, that’s not fair! I've fucked you on Natalie’s couch while she was upstairs, a few times now, but I fuck a girl in the bunk below you and you freak out?” He teases as his hands land on your waist, thumbs rubbing slightly, “If it makes you feel any better, honey, I wish I’d fucked you instead. I think I might've crawled into the wrong bunk?”
“I think you might have. But don’t change the subject! That’s so different,” you whine slightly, moving to lay on top of him completely. Your bare chest presses against his, legs tangling together.
“Hm,” David hums questioningly, “How so?”
“She’s not me.”
David laughs, head leaning down to kiss you, “True. So, it’s only okay for us to pull that shit?”
“It’s our thing,” you mumble, faces close, “Nobody else’s. You can only sneak around with me.”
“Mm,” he agrees, “I’m okay with that.”
You leave one last kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping your head to his chest, his hands tangling in your hair.
“So...your virginity?”
“You know it was Sami, baby,” David answers, fingers moving from your hair to your spine, rubbing gently.
“Yeah, but...our first time you didn't fuck like you barely had experience. And if you’ve only fucked two girls before me…”
He pulls you closer before clearing his throat, breaking, “Sami and I fucked around for a while last year. Friends with benefits, I guess. I don't know, we just hooked up a lot, but she got clingy and irritating.”
“What do you mean clingy?” You ask, feeling the doting touches of his hands - rough, calloused fingertips from God-knows-what accompanied by soft palms.
“I think,” David pauses, knuckles running gently down your spine, “I think she had feelings for me, I guess. Like, every time after we fucked, she wanted me to hold her. It was so annoying; I just wanted to go home. I didn’t wanna spend any more time with her than I had to.”
“But,” you say, contradicting him, “You hold me after every time we fuck?”
“Yeah, but that’s different,” he shrugs slightly, “You’re my girl. You’re on my mind all day long, of course I’m gonna hold you. It was never fun with her like it is with you.”
“All day long?” you ask, not believing his words, “What?”
“Every second of every day,” he admits, moving to bend his head down to kiss your shoulder, “Hard not to think about you. I can never get enough.”
“Oh,” you say, looking up and meeting his eyes. You change the subject slightly in an attempt to distract yourself from dissecting his statements, “So...you guys...weren’t...like us? At all?”
He tuts, shaking his head as his fingers tangle in your hair once more, “No way. This is so much better. I only thought it was good because I hadn’t fucked anyone else.”
“I’m not asking because I’m jealous-”
“I know,” he interrupts, “I’m just saying. Nothing’s ever gonna compare to sharing this with you.”
You try your best to ignore his statement, asking, “So you guys never dated?”
“You know the answer to that, baby,” he mumbles, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead, “I haven’t dated anyone.”
“I was just asking,” you explain, “People date in secret all the time. You never know.”
“I know,” David says, trying to move the subject matter away from him, “I think it’s kind of dumb, like, what’s the big deal? Why stay secret? You should just tell people. Like, I get if you’re just fucking and you don’t want to tell anyone, but dating? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
You shrug, not commenting on the topic further, “Why don’t you just date Sami if you thought she liked you?”
“Why would I do that to myself when I have this right in front of me?” he asks, “I don't want to talk about her anymore, baby, can we change the subject?”
“I mean,” you stutter slightly, “Yeah, of course, but why?”
“I just feel like,” David pauses, mulling over his next words, “Unless they hurt either of us, I don't really care about the people we’ve been with before this happened. Like, we have each other now, you know? We don't have to worry about anything. I don’t want anyone else…,” he trails, turning to meet your eyes, “Do you?”
“No,” you say, almost too quickly, “Of course not. I’m yours. You’re the only one I think of.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Good, but don’t forget I’m yours, too. All yours. This isn’t one sided, honey.”
You nod slowly, going quiet for a few seconds before you decide to change the subject, eyes still on his, “Don’t beat yourself up about not dating anybody, Dave. It’s not about you. You’d be a really good boyfriend.”
He gently tugs you closer, eyes on yours, “You really think so?”
“Yeah. You’re the best guy I know,” you admit, feeling David melt slightly at your words. You switch positions again, your head on his chest, not meeting his eyes.
“I want a girlfriend so bad,” he complains, “I’ve always wanted to, I dunno, write a girl love notes? Like, every day, you know? Or those random texts out of nowhere telling her I love her? And bring her coffee every morning? It’s all in the little stuff. I love it.”
“You don’t even drink coffee, though?”
“I know,” he mumbles, “But I’d still learn how she takes it.”
“You’re so cute,” you admit, quickly attempting to correct yourself as David’s hands halt their gentle movements at your words, “That’s so cute. You’re so soft! Who would’ve known?”
“Shut up,” he laughs lightly, trying to brush off your previous statement, “Don’t tell anyone that. It’s embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Whatever,” he shrugs, going quiet, “It is to me.”
You drop it for his sake, changing the topic, “Did you fuck Sami like you fuck me? Is that why you’re so good at it?”
“Baby-”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
David tuts, fingers resuming their gentle strokes along your back, “It’s fine. No. I didn’t. I’ve only done this with you. I’m good at it with you because I know how you work, I guess.”
“‘I know how you work,’” you mock, “How?”
“I can just read you really easily. I know what you like, I guess, like it’s the back of my hand. It’s easy with you. I don’t feel like I’m trying too hard.”
You simply nod at his explanation, going quiet and beginning to listen to his heartbeat.
“Davey?” You break a minute later, voice soft, arms moving to wrap around his neck.
“Hm?”
“My thigh hurts. Like, the burn?”
Forgetting about the burn until you mention it, he curses under his breath, helping you sit up.
“We have to go back to Nat’s and clean it. Fuck, you should’ve said something before!”
“Not yet, I was just saying…” you say, pushing him back down, “A little longer? This is nice…”
“Are you sure?” David asks, eyes scanning over your face worriedly, “The burn scares me, baby. I don’t wanna risk anyth-”
“Just hold me,” you beg, arms wrapping around his torso, “We aren’t alone like this together enough. It’s always so rushed.”
Hesitantly, he agrees, “You’re right. Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready, babe. Nat and Dima are waiting on us.”
“They can wait,” you say, “We need this.”
“Mm,” he hums and pulls you closer, sweaty skin sticking together, “We do. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you reciprocate, “Kiss me, Davey, baby. Please.” David tips your head up by your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips attach gently, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his free hand tangle in your hair.
You kiss slowly for a few seconds before David pulls away slightly, lips millimeters apart, “As friends.”
You barely nod against him in response before attaching your mouths once more, attempting to push your thoughts away from his dreaded statement. David pulls away as your eyes begin welling up with tears, still holding your chin as his eyes drop, looking over your face.
He doesn't notice the tears before you place your head in his neck, holding him close to your body as you shut your eyes, breathing deeply. You attempt to refocus your thoughts, paying close attention to attempt mirroring David’s breathing patterns.
A few minutes later, David breaks, clearing his throat softly, “Is this what you think pity feels like?”
“What?” you ask, voice soft, “No?”
He takes one of your hands, sliding it over his chest, fingers lacing together, “Good, ‘cause it’s not. This is love.”
You go quiet at his words, not saying anything, before he speaks again, “Do you need me to show you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Um…” he pauses, shifting, “Look at me.”
You do, tears now subsided, David gently grabbing your chin once more as he looks into your eyes.
His gaze drops to your lips, eyes lidded, “This…”
He pauses, leaning in slightly, lips nearly attaching as his breathing staggers, “Is love.”
You breathe in sharply before he kisses you gently; a short kiss, but enough.
Dave’s eyes remain on you, staring adoringly as you look up at him, “What we have is real.”
Hands still intertwined, he undoes them, moving his palm to cover the top of your hand. He places your palm over his heart, holding it there as you feel his heartbeat.
“This is real,” he continues, hand leaving yours to rest on your heart, “You feel it too. I know you do.”
David pauses, upholding his gaze and focusing on the consistent thumps under his finger tips, voice soft, “Tell me you feel it too?”
“You just said-”
“Yeah, but baby, I wanna hear you say it,” he says quickly, rushing it out, “Tell me you feel this; that it’s not just me; that this is love. Tell me it’s not just me.”
“What do you- um,” you stutter, mind blanking, “What do you feel?”
“This,” he says vaguely, quickly finding his words and continuing, “You know it feels different than when we first started this. It feels like we’re a package deal now; I never want to be away from you. I never would’ve thought we’d end up here - together, nonetheless. Please, baby, tell me you feel it too. I don’t wanna be alone in this. Something is different, right?”
“...Feelings?” you question timidly, doing your best to refrain from giving yourself false hope.
“Yes, feelings,” he says, “But not feelings. Not in that way. I just mean...I love you as friends, but this, between us, is hitting me so differently now. Please say it back.”
“I feel it too, David,” you comply, “It is different.”
“So I’m not crazy?”
“No, you’re not crazy,” you confirm, feeling his heart speed up, “What do you mean it’s hitting you differently now?”
“Like,” Dave searches for his words, eyes glued on yours, “I’m getting really possessive over you. It’s been building up, but like, it feels like I don’t want another guy to touch you or anything at all. I know I shouldn't be getting jealous ‘cause we’re not like that, but-”
“You can get jealous,” you say, wanting him to claim you as his own, “Can I get jealous?”
A smile plays at his lips at your words, “If I can get jealous, I don’t see why you can’t.”
“I can’t imagine you being jealous,” you say, “At all.”
“Just wait,” David promises, “You’ll be able to tell. The worst part is I can’t do anything about it. Not in front of anyone, anyway.”
“I mean, you could...,” you trail off, “It’d be pretty hot.”
David dips his head to kiss you deeply, your hands still over each other’s hearts, “You don’t want me to, I promise. It pisses me off; I want every guy to know you're mine.”
“So it’s every guy?”
“Yes. Almost every guy.”
“Dima? Ilya?”
David shakes his head slightly, “No, they’re cool. Maybe Ilya a little bit, but only ‘cause I know he’d be down to fuck you. Dima, Alex, Mike, John, all of them, though? They’re fine. It’s just everyone else I have an issue with…But really, though, baby, you don't wanna see me jealous. I turn into a real asshole.”
“You're always an asshole,” you joke, sliding your hand up from his chest to the side of his neck and into his hair.
“Not with you,” he promises, voice suddenly soft as his hand moves from your chest to your waist, rubbing softly, “Never with you.”
“I know,” you confirm, going quiet for a few seconds, “Can you keep going about what we were talking about?”
“About this being love?”
You nod at his question, “And tell me what love is.”
David moves, murmuring a quiet “Come here, baby,” and sitting up against his car door, pulling you into his bare lap. You settle, legs on either side of his body, arms draping around his shoulders.
“I think,” he begins slowly, the last -ck syllable catching in his throat as his hands slide delicately up your back, “Everything me and you do together, now, at least, has love in it. Everything we do is love. If I can't go a few minutes without thinking of you? I dunno, I’d call that love.”
“I know - um,” David continues, stuttering slightly, “I need a cigarette. Hold on. You want one?” You shrug, nodding your head and gripping his shoulders as he leans over slightly, removing his hands from you. You watch his fingers as he delicately pulls one from each package and grabs the Bic. He turns back to you, passing you the stick and watching as you place it between your lips, waiting.
Cigarette propped between his lips haphazardly, Dave’s thumb pushes against the spark wheel of the lighter repeatedly until a flame results.
You meet his eyes as you let him light the end of your cigarette, David breaking the silence, “Pretty girls don’t light their own cigs. I’m gonna say it every time.”
Your only response is a blush as he quickly lights his cigarette, tossing the lighter to the side. It lands on top of your clothes, his free hand coming to your waist.
He takes a drag, exhaling to the side before continuing his statement, “Now, I know,” he cuts himself off, sighing slightly, “I know that I, um, haven’t really been with anyone - like, I haven’t dated anyone, right? - but I just feel like...Well, I guess you could use that to say I don’t know what I’m talking about, which I don’t, not really-”
“Spit it out, Davey,” you say, quietly smoking and listening as he speaks, “It’s okay. Just tell me what you're thinking.”
“Okay,” he agrees, taking another quick drag, “I know I haven’t dated anyone, or been in love or any of that, but I’m just saying, baby...When I think about love,” he pauses slightly, “This is exactly what I picture, you know? Us. The shit that we do. I can’t - I can’t picture wanting to be this way with anyone else. You’re my girl. Like, of course I can’t really picture us being together together, but still...This is love. I know it is. Honestly, there’s no way it isn’t.”
David goes quiet, free hand gently running over your body, and you begin to realize how much you hate the way he’s making you feel. He makes your heart swell with every ‘I love you,’ only for his addition of ‘as friends’ to rip it out. You’re not even sure how to feel. No matter how sweet he thinks he’s being, the more he attempts to explain his feelings, he’s only digging the knife in deeper. You want to tell him to stop, or kiss him just to get him to shut up - but David’s twisting the knife now as he pulls his fingers through the knots in your hair, uttering another soft spoken I love you that you know he doesn’t mean in its entirety.
You lift your head and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, telling him you think it’s time to go back. He shakes his head, his hold on you tightening as he demands, “Say it back.”
You stare at him blankly, not entirely sure you want to say it back, but his eyes have softened and he looks wounded - almost as if he were the one being toyed with. You say it, meaning every word, because you know you can’t say no to him.
“This is love,” he says slowly as some sort of gentle reminder, fingertips running delicately down your spine, “I don't want to feel this with anyone else.”
He pauses, cigarette between his fingers, “Tell me I’m the only one...I know I am, I just want to hear you say it.”
You dread saying it again, because it means you're forced to admit it to yourself once more, but you still do it, telling him, “You're the only one.”
You finish your cigarette, quickly moving to roll down the window behind David and toss it out. He turns, taking one last drag before throwing his cigarette out and rolling up the window.
“I know you were talking about me earlier,” you say, forcing yourself to continue because it seems like David needs it, “Um, and I wanted to tell you that nobody’s gonna compare to you, either. I can’t think of anyone else. I don't want to.”
“I don’t want you to, either,” he says, hand coming to your cheek, “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“Um, yeah,” you say, agreeing with him, “You’re mine, I’m yours…But really, Davey, baby, I mean it. You’ve changed everything for me. I’d do this forever with you, I love it so much. It just feels so...right.”
“It feels like we should’ve done this forever ago,” he says, “I know I said I didn’t know if I would have, but…if I knew I’d feel this way about you? Absolutely.”
“I don’t want you to think that this is one sided,” you tell him, fingertips nervously playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Or anything like that…”
“I know it’s not, baby,” David reassures, “If it was one sided, you wouldn’t melt the way you do when I kiss you.”
“What?”
“Sorry,” he giggles quietly, arms wrapping around your torso, “But you do. Like, let me kiss you.”
Dave leans up, attaching your lips, feeling you sigh into the kiss and tug his head closer. He pulls away, meeting your eyes and giggling once more, “It’s okay, baby, really. It’s cute. You do it every time. I love it.”
“But I know it’s not one sided, honey, don’t worry about it,” he changes the subject, “Just don’t close up on me, okay? You’ve been a little off lately - especially tonight. Talk to me if you feel any different about this, ‘cause I love you - a lot.”
“I know, I will-”
“I love you and I want to make this good for you,” David continues, eyes glued to yours, hands now on your waist, “If that means changing how we do things, then I’ll do it, you just have to tell me. I can’t have my girl getting closed off from me, can I?”
You blush, shaking your head sheepishly. His head drops, lips pressing softly against your shoulder as he murmurs a quiet, “Just let me in, babe. I promise I can help.”
You go quiet, shifting slightly and settling your head in his neck. You focus on his breathing momentarily, before David breaks, “I don’t wanna rush you, baby, but don’t you think we should get going?”
You nod against him, both of you sitting up. He silently reaches for your clothes before grabbing his, plucking your bra from the pile. He puts it on you, gently sliding the straps over your arms and onto your shoulders.
You adjust the cups for him, before he asks, voice soft, “Which clasp do you do? Sorry, I should pay more attention...” You tell him and he complies with a slight struggle, completing the task nonetheless. His success is accompanied by a loving kiss pressed to the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
You help each other dress - doting kisses along his collarbone as he slips his shirt on, his fingertips dancing along the waistband of your underwear as you kiss him, tugging lightly on his hair and sighing.
“I’ll never get over how much I love you,” David says, whining slightly, “This is love, baby. I never want to stop touching you.”
“I want to be here with you forever,” you murmur against his lips, “This is so perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he compliments, kissing you again, “So perfect.”
“So are you,” you say, “Literally. Dream guy.”
“You mean that?” David quickly asks between kisses, breathless, “Like, really? I’m your dream guy?”
“Of course,” you admit, not thinking twice, sentences broken up by kisses, “You’re hot. You’re cute. You’re sweet. You’re an asshole, which I guess I’m into. You know how to fuck me. You’re the best. Not gonna find anyone else like you.”
“Mmm,” David hums, affirming, “Nobody fucks you like me. We gotta go.”
“Touch me some more,” you insist, pushing his hands down your sides and kissing him, “Please.”
His fingers push up the hem of your shirt as he kisses you, nails digging into your skin slightly, before he rushes out, “I gotta tell you something. It’s embarrassing; don’t laugh at me.”
“What is it?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but,” Dave says, tugging you closer, “I’ve been calling you late at night a lot, right?”
“Yeah, you have,” you affirm, quickly growing worried, “Is everything okay?”
He giggles slightly, looking up into your eyes, “Everything’s fine, baby, I just, um...The reason I’ve been calling you so late is ‘cause I’ve gotten into a really bad habit.”
“What is it, Dave?”
“I can’t sleep without you now,” he admits, “I try to go to bed but I just need you. I can’t get you, so I just gotta get the balls to call you so I can hear your voice for a while. I just fall asleep to that. It’s enough - most of the time, at least.”
“You could always sneak over,” you offer, “You don't gotta go through all of that. Come over and sleep.”
“Yeah? You’d let me?”
“Yeah, of course! Don’t come over just to fuck, though-”
“I won't, baby. I know you do most of your homework at night, anyways...I just wanna sleep.”
“Is it that bad?” you ask, “How much are you sleeping?”
“Like, an hour or two a night? It’s pretty bad, I guess,” David says, “I’m really tired all the time.”
“Baby, you need to sleep!” you insist, pulling him closer, “You should’ve told me before. I can leave my window open for you.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you when I’m coming over once we start school again. Don’t stay up all night on me when you’re working - a bed that smells like you but doesn’t have you in it isn’t any help.”
“I’m always right there at my desk, though-”
“Still not in my arms,” David interrupts, “But note taken that I can sneak over; maybe I’ll get some sleep on school nights now. We need to get going.”
“Yeah, we do. Kiss me, first,” you agree, Dave quickly leaning up and attaching your lips.
He leans out a few seconds later, faces still close, before he speaks, “I love you so much...”
“But?”
“No but...,” he trails, “I just - I don't even know how to put into words how much I love you. I could never explain it the right way.”
“I believe you,” you say, hands in his hair, “But when you can't use your words, use your actions.”
David giggles slightly, sleepy smile coming to his face, “My actions? Let me think...The way you let me shove my dick down your throat really reminds me of how much I love and appreciate you. No, I’m kidding.”
“What can I do when I want you to know how much I love you but can’t describe it?” David asks himself, humming quietly as the gears in his head turn, “I think everything is in touches for us. Kinda goes back to what we were talking about; if I do this,” Dave runs his fingertips up your spine, feeling you get goosebumps under him, “or if I do this,” he gathers a fistful of your hair in one of his hands, tugging slightly and exposing your neck, “They mean the same thing, you know?”
“Either way,” he continues, “My love for you is there. Take every time I touch you as an ‘I love you’ - I’m not good at going into depth with how I feel, but me loving you is still always on my mind.”
You nod in his hold, fingers still running through his hair as you lean in for a kiss, David saying quietly before your lips attach, “I think I mean it more and more every time I say it.”
You kiss softly, Dave beginning to murmur a steady stream of I love you’s against your lips before he finally pulls away, “Yeah. Every time I say it, it feels different. Fuck, baby, I love you. As friends.”
“I love you too,” you reciprocate, eyes on his as you force yourself to lie, “As friends.”
“As friends,” he confirms, pressing a final kiss to your lips, “Up front, baby. Let’s go.”
++
David is openly distraught as he throws open Natalie’s front door and scrambles around the first floor to the kitchen, skimming through cupboards and cursing under his breath.
“Um, hello? What’s up?” Natalie speaks up from the living room questioningly, peeking over the back of the couch at David. He crouches down in front of the cupboard under the kitchen sink, skimming through the labels of random containers.
“Where’s your first aid kit?”
“What the fuck?” she asks, eyebrows scrunching together, “Why?”
“Y/N hurt herself! Where is it?”
You interrupt, “David, it’s not even that big of a deal-”
“Wait, what? What happened-“
“Nat!” He exclaims harshly, startling her as she jumps slightly at his tone.
“It’s in the bathroom upstairs,” she rolls her eyes, sitting back in her seat, “The one by my room.”
Dave immediately rushes upstairs, you following closely behind as he hurriedly skips steps in his ascent.
“On the counter,” he demands once you get to the bathroom, grabbing the red bag from under the sink. You obey, hopping onto the sink and allowing him to tug your jeans past your hips, stopping at your knees.
David’s not sure what he’s doing; he never took first aid and he’s never had to do any of this before. He grabs the first thing from the kit which seems like it might help - a bottle of hydrogen peroxide - ultimately deciding he’s going to wing it.
“What the fuck?” Dima appears in the doorway with Natalie in tow, you and David turning to acknowledge them.
“Why are your pants down?” Dima questions, eyebrows raised.
“I burned my leg.”
“How?”
“I dropped my cigarette,” you quickly lie, neither Dima or Nat questioning it right away as Dima takes notice of the bottle in David's hand.
“You’re not putting that on it, are you?”
He shrugs, “Should I not?”
Dima sighs, dragging his hands down his face, “Jesus. Let me do it.”
“No, I can do it. Just tell me what to do,” David argues as Dima makes his way over to you.
“Obviously you can’t, dude,” Dima motions towards the peroxide.
David scoffs, “I can do it-“
“Dave, just let him,” David’s eyes widen at you, almost offended you won’t take his side, “He’s in sports med, he probably knows what he’s doing.”
He finally agrees, rolling his eyes as he moves to stand on the opposite side of you. Dima grabs a washcloth from the cupboard and runs it under cold water, saturating it completely. He eyes the deep, circle shaped burn on your thigh, immediately aware you lied about how you received it. He doesn’t call you out, giving you a quick look of warning before pressing the cloth against your thigh.
You hiss, immediately grabbing David’s hand and squeezing. Dima spots the worry on his face and goes to give Natalie a look of his own, but she’s staring at you two with an expression somewhere between sympathy and adoration.
Dima continues holding the washcloth, looking underneath it to get another glimpse of the spot.
“This is really deep for just dropping it, Y/N,” he comments, “Like, second degree, at least.”
“Fuck,” David mumbles, untangling your hands to push your jeans further down, not wanting them to get wet.
“David, I don’t understand why you’re freaking out. You’re more concerned than she is,” Dima says, pushing the damp cloth a little deeper.
You hiss once more at the feeling, free hand moving to the nape of Dave’s neck, digging your fingertips in. His hand moves to your waist in response, resting there as Dima eyes the way David’s thumb rubs at your skin comfortingly.
“I feel bad, okay?”
“It’s not your fault, though,” you add, causing him to frown.
“I just don’t like seeing you hurt.” Your fingers move from his neck to tangle in the short hair at the back of his head, his eyes meeting yours.
“It’s fine, Dave,” you promise, “I’ll be fine.”
“What if it scars?” he asks, eyes wide, “I’d feel so terrible.”
“Why?” Dima interrupts.
“I-I don’t know, dude, I’d just feel bad, okay?” he defends, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Dima and Natalie glance at each other once more, dropping the subject and moving on.
++
You and David had gotten to Courtney’s party a bit late and it was already booming. You were already well on your way to blacking out when you got there due to the numerous amount of shots you’d done before you left your house, but that didn’t stop you from dragging David to the kitchen and pouring another. You clinked your glass against his and took the shot, quickly being dragged away by Natalie to play beer pong.
You and David arrived to Courtney’s party late – a consequence of David witnessing the numerous shots you had insisted on taking beforehand coupled with insistent begging for him to shove his cock down your throat while he drove.
It was around an hour later you and David stood in the middle of the living room with a beer in each of your hands, about to shotgun them when Ilya shouts from beside you, “Hey, Dave! You should do a boob luge with Y/N!”
David laughs as a few people started cheering on the idea and you grab his arm, leaning in close enough so he can hear you over the noise.
“What is that?” you ask, confused.
“It’s like, someone pours beer between your boobs and I drink it from under,” you raise your eyebrows and he brushes it off, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, “But Il’s just kidding, don’t worry.”
You grin, looking up at him and uttering, “Do it.” David pulls away from you slightly, shocked by your agreement to the idea.
“Wait, what?”
“Do it! You won’t,” you test and you can see him thinking over whether or not it’s a good idea before he smirks, shrugging and taking the beer from your hand and passing the two to Ilya. The cheers get louder as David turns to you, tugging on the bottom of your shirt lightly.
“You gotta take this off.”
You pull it over your head, tossing it somewhere beside you as David gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your waist. Ilya cracks open one of the beers, mumbling quietly, “Okay, push your boobs together.”
You do as he says, lifting up your bra a bit by the straps and pushing your chest together. You’re about to roll your eyes as you hear someone whistle but David rubs his thumb gently against the skin on your waist and you forget about it completely.
Ilya slurs out a quick “Ready?” to which both you and David nod, almost instantly feeling the alcohol being dumped on your chest. It’s cold and you gasp quietly, the added sensation of David’s tongue on the skin of your stomach making you sigh.
He continues to lap at the alcohol even after Ilya’s finished pouring it and you momentarily let yourself forget about the crowd, threading your fingers through his hair. He tries to get at the alcohol between your boobs but your bra is in the way so he pushes it up a bit more. You want to tell him to stop; remind him that people are watching, that you might have a nip slip if your bra moves even slightly, that Natalie’s gonna kill you but the words get caught in your throat when he slips his hands under your bra.
“Alex,” David hisses and the boy sitting on the couch beside you, one you recognized as one of David’s friends, mumbles back a confused “What?”
“Fuckin’...” he attempts to push your bra up a bit more with the back of his hands, making sure you don’t accidentally flash anyone. “Take this shit off.”
You’re too spaced out from the alcohol and David’s mouth on you to protest when you feel Alex behind you, unhooking your bra and pushing it off your shoulders. He doesn’t move as David slides his tongue up your chest so you lean into him, head thrown back against one of his shoulders. Alex runs his hands up your arms lightly and you look back at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting to kiss him.
Maybe it’s because you wanna kiss someone and you know it can’t be David, but a part of you is telling yourself that you need to kiss someone else to be sure of how you feel about David.
You don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it, grabbing Alex by the back of his head and pulling his lips to yours. You feel David’s hands tighten on your boobs and he briefly bites the skin on one of them causing you to gasp, pulling away from Alex for a moment.
Your eyes lock with David’s and he gives you a look somewhere between anger and disappointment, almost a warning. You wonder if this is what he was talking about in the car; how he gets jealous easily and you wouldn’t like it when he does, and now you’re very curious to find out.
You keep your eyes on his as your grip tightens on Alex’s neck, pulling him into yours. He starts trailing kisses from your shoulder up to behind your ear and you let out a low whine, watching as David’s eyes darken. You’re interrupted by Ilya asking if he wants to do another and you agree for him, smirking down at him as he pushes your boobs together.
You feel the alcohol on your chest again at the same time as you feel Alex against your ass. He’s hard, it’s painstakingly obvious and you grin, pushing back against him a bit harder.
The beer can is empty, thrown somewhere on the floor with your shirt and your bra and David’s back to sucking on your chest. He starts nipping the skin a bit harder and you grip the back of his hair to pull him away but it’s too late because he’s left a mark.
You start moving your ass against Alex, hearing him let out a soft grunt into your neck and you think David heard it too because he’s standing up now, chest pressed against yours so he can drop his hand to your thighs. You look up at him, silently begging him to just fucking kiss you already but he decides to skip that and starts sliding his hand up under your skirt.
You’re embarrassed.
It’s not because of that fact that David’s managed to slip his fingers past your underwear and inside you, but the fact that you heard it. You wonder if anyone else had heard, but that’s quickly answered when Ilya shouts “Get a room!”
David’s hands are off of you and he simply utters an alright before grabbing one of your arms and moving it to cover your chest, grabbing the other one and dragging you away.
David swears he feels his blood boil when you call out ‘Wait!’ and beg Alex to come with. He agrees, and David has to restrain from rolling his eyes into the back of his head when Alex follows the two of you.
“Is this okay?” you ask, quietly so only David can hear you. He gets the sense you’re doing this on purpose, attempting to get a rise out of him. He mumbles out a quick whatever and continues dragging you up the stairs.
He pushes you into the first empty room he finds, coincidentally belonging to Courtney. He waits for Alex to go in before shutting the door and locking it. You’re making out with Alex, tongues sloppy, when David turns back around to you both. You squeal into Alex’s mouth as David yanks your skirt down without care.
Alex climbs onto the bed and pulls you with him, tugging his shirt over his head as you work on undoing his belt. You don’t have the patience to take his pants and underwear all the way off right away, taking him in your mouth the second you have the chance. The groan he lets out distracts you enough you don’t notice David behind you until his fingers are back inside of you.
You whine, about to lift your head, David pushing it back down until you feel Alex at the back of your throat.
“Hey! Careful!” Alex scolds, moving David’s hand off the back of your head.
David snickers as Alex wipes away the few tears under your eyes.
“Don’t worry, she likes it when you rough her up a bit. Don’t you, baby?” He brings his hand down hard on your ass and you squeal, pushing back into him as if to ask for more.
Alex doesn’t bother questioning the pet name or how David knows what you like, instead, he tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes your head back down. He stops the second you gag but David shakes his head.
“Uh uh, Alex, she can take more than that.”
He pushes your head back down all the way and holds you there, nervous for your reaction. Alex is pleasantly surprised at your willingness to take him all, throat undulating around him.
++
“Baby, I just-” David whispers, wiping quickly at his mouth before both hands are on your bare waist. You’re both stood in Courtney’s bathroom attached to her room, door open slightly as Alex quietly gets dressed after your drunken romp. “I didn’t really like that. Can we not do that again?”
“Was it bad for you or something?” You ask, clueless, arms wrapped around his neck.
David maintains eye contact before tutting softly, “No, it wasn’t bad. Of course not. Nothing about it was bad, just...that’s not us. I like it when it’s us. Just us, you know?”
“I just wanted to try it,” you say, suddenly feeling the need to apologize, “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you about it before.”
“No, baby, don’t feel bad,” he reassures, “I said yes. It’s not on Alex or anything, but...I don’t like sharing you. I don’t want anyone else involved.”
Alex eavesdrops as best he can as he tugs his shorts on and sits in an uncomfortable bean bag lying on Courtney’s floor. From this angle, he watches as David kisses your shoulders while clasping your bra together. He feels slightly creepy as his nosiness takes over, leaning forward in his seat to hear your conversation better.
“Do you think he knows?” Alex hears you ask, “That we’re...you know…?”
“I’m sure he does, honey, he’s not stupid,” David says, lips pressing to your forehead, “It’s okay. He can know.”
“But babe, no one else does-” you complain, still fairly drunk as David pulls you in for a hug.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, “Y/N, thirty minutes ago I was drinking a beer from between your tits. Alex can know.”
You sigh against him, trusting him completely as he moves to get dressed himself. You complain briefly about wanting to sleep, David telling you to go get into bed and he’ll wake you when it’s time to leave with Dom.
You obey, not acknowledging Alex as you climb into Courtney’s defiled sheets, eyes closing. David wakes you up slightly minutes later as he crawls in next to you, arms wrapping comfortingly around you as you bury your face in his chest.
“So,” Alex breaks the silence, putting his phone in his pocket, “How long has this been going on between you guys?”
David laughs lightly, fingers playing with the ends of your hair, “It’s that obvious, huh? I mean, probably a month or so? The night before homecoming.”
Both believe you’re snoozing as you eavesdrop just as Alex had, your eyes glued shut.
“Are you dating or is this just fucking?”
“Just fucking.”
“So you don’t have any feelings for her?”
“No. Never. She’s my best friend, man, come on,” David defends, “I just can’t let myself see her that way.”
“David, you literally just had sex with her and nutted in her. It’s okay if you have feelings - you know that, right?”
“I know I could have feelings, but I don’t, and neither does she. I also basically just had sex with you, but I don’t have feelings for you!”
“Okay, dude, I love you, but I think you’re lying to yourself a little bit-”
“I’m not. I swear, Alex. She’s beautiful and I love her, but not in that way - as friends. She feels the same way about me, too. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay,” Alex retreats, “I trust you, man. So I could try to make a move on her and you’d be chill with it?”
“I mean,” David pauses, “No, dude. She’s my girl. Like, we’re just friends with benefits but...we’re exclusive, you know? I’m not fucking anyone else and I don’t want to, and I definitely don’t want her to be fucking someone else. We’ve already talked about this together. We’re each other’s. No one else’s. Sorry.”
Alex nods slowly in disbelief someone as smart as David could be so blindsided by his ability to be in denial. He wonders if you truly feel the same way David does about your relationship with each other.
You don’t like what you have just heard. You don’t agree with him whatsoever, and it is your fault for him believing you do. True, you don’t want anyone else, that part he is right about, but you’re beginning to believe you do have feelings for him.
You decide you don’t want to think about it anymore, stirring slightly and sitting up. David’s hold on you tightens as he pushes your hair away from your face, pressing a doting kiss to your forehead.
“Hey, baby. Like, twenty more minutes and we can go home. Do you need a shower?” He asks, eyes glued to yours.
“Yeah. I’m covered in beer and cum.” David laughs lightly before kissing you gently, agreeing to a shower with you once you return home.
“I love you,” he says lovingly, tugging you a tad bit closer, lips centimeters away, “As friends.”
You breathe in harshly at his addition to his statement before repeating it to him, faking a smile as best you can and kissing him once more.
Alex is fucking blown away.
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