The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

Punch, Read, Talk

James woke up early. Too early. Oliver was drooling on his chest, and he couldn't feel his right arm. It was fine; he was willing to accept that.

He glanced over at Victor, more out of instinct than anything else. It was raining again, and that stupid branch was hitting the window. It was still dark.

He sighed and closed his eyes, knowing there was no way he was going to fall asleep again. He thought he was going to have to get bored alone until Ollie or Victor woke up.

James had no hopes for Victor to wake up before noon. He did. Victor stirred and got up. James' eyes snapped on him; this wasn't usual.

"Hi," James said. Victor turned his head towards him. His hair was messy. James found it endearing, and charming, and lovely, and he wanted to touch it. He wanted to kiss his cheeks and the corner of his eyes.

"Hi?" Victor's answer came like a question. "Is it morning?"

"I don't even know; I can't reach my phone," James said. Oliver's curls were getting into his mouth.

Victor yawned and stretched, then dropped back on his pillow. He took his phone from under the covers and squinted at the bright display.

"It's ugh... 5:25 AM. What a stupid, ungodly hour."

Oliver rolled off of James, and blood started circulating back into his arm. It felt like thousands of needles were poking him at the same time. James got up and rubbed his bicep. He could go to the gym, take a shower, eat, all before seven.

"I'm gonna go fight a punching bag," James yawned. "Do you want to come?"

"To do what?"

"Punch a punching bag," James said. "Or beat the shit out of it with a bat. It's good therapy."

Victor laughed. His voice was still thick with sleep, but it made James' morning wood even woodier.

"It's always violence with you," Victor said.

"Come on; I'll show you how to throw a punch without breaking your fingers."

"You want to teach me how to fight, you thug?"

"You're still wearing my thug clothes." James smiled. He was so proud of that, and he was sure that one day he'll use the image of Victor in his sweater as jerkoff material.

There was a brief pause. Victor looked at him, sleepy, and a little unfocused.

"Ok," he agreed.

James took about ten minutes to brush his teeth, splash some cold water on his face and buzz his head. Victor took longer to get ready. Even after they were in the gym, Arlington still seemed dazed.

"If you throw one good punch, I'll buy you coffee," James promised.

"Why are you so sure I don't know how to do it?"

"Make a fist," James instructed.

Victor did, but he held his thumb in his palm, and that was a sure way of getting injured. James smiled and took his hand.

"See, no, if you punch someone like this, you'll only hurt yourself. Do this instead." He showed him how to do it and waited for Victor to do the same.

"And when you punch, aim with these knuckles here."

"Ok," Victor said. James let go of him and mounted the punching bag.