Comfortable Silence |Virgato|

Chapter 7

Jenna RULEZ.

Trick the sweethearts.

Dan the Man.

That ONE time I had a sharpie.

Joel runs his eyes over the wooden paneling outside the ticket booth at the Continental Club, searching for any combination of words that stands out against the mess of names and scribbles. So far, he's not impressed.

A cold front swept in between the time they left home and arrived at the venue where Richard's band is playing, so they're underdressed in their hoodies and hovering as close to the warm ticket booth as they possibly can without losing their place in line.

"Why are we tricking the sweethearts, do you think?" Joel asks, pulling Chris's attention away from his phone.

Chris follows Joel's gaze to the exclamation on the wall and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. He has his hood pulled up over his hair and he looks painfully warm and huggable. He always does, really, but the hood makes it so much worse. "Maybe the sweethearts wronged us somehow."

"That makes sense," Joel agrees, experimentally shifting closer to Chris to see if he can feel any warmth radiating off of his body. He does, or at least he thinks he does, and even if it's the placebo effect, it makes the bite of the cold a little less painful, so he stays put. "You can't trust sweethearts."

"I don't know about all sweethearts," Chris says skeptically, turning so he's facing Joel. "Just these specific sweethearts. Or-" he brightens, raising his eyebrows and smiling crookedly. "Maybe we're actually tricking the sweethearts into liking us."

Then, casually, like it's just something he does every day, he slips his hands under Joel's hoodie, resting them against his skin, warm and reassuring. It's the first time someone has touched him like this - familiar, intentional - in months. Truthfully, he hadn't wanted anyone to touch him like this. After The Ex, he thought he just somehow wasn't a touchy guy anymore. The Ex had used up all the touches he had in him to give, and all the touches he had in him to receive.

Wrong. So wrong. Because Chris's touch is a memory, dragging the long-dormant craving for physical contact out from whatever dark space it had been hiding in. Reminding him that he's capable of appreciating it, that he still has the capacity to touch and be touched.

Relief floods through him and spills over, literally pushing him closer to Chris, and he realizes he's not just leaning into the touch. Remarkably, he wants to touch Chris, too. Suddenly overcome with the need to touch Chris, actually, and as much as it takes him by surprise, it also feels oddly familiar, just like the day on the bus when he desperately wanted to wrap Chris in his arms to warm him up.

He doesn't want to shatter the illusion that Chris touching him like this is a mundane, expected thing. Drawing attention to it might make Chris self-conscious about it. Drawing attention to it might make it stop. Joel doesn't want it to stop. He wants it to be normal. He wants Chris to do it again.

So, he tries to relax, he doesn't comment on it, and he resists the temptation to press his hands against Chris's chest, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides. He makes it clear he's not pulling away, though, and he smiles, leaning close to Chris's ear to say, "Maybe we're the sweethearts being tricked."

Chris laughs, sagging against Joel so clumsily that Joel has no choice but to grab ahold of his waist to keep them both from toppling over. "Sorry." Chris steadies himself on his feet but doesn't pull away and smiles up at Joel. "I like your theory better."

His face is so close, it might be the most detail Joel has ever seen him in. He wishes he weren't too timid to look long and hard, capturing all the little details he's never had the chance to notice before. Instead, he sneaks glances. A quick moment to study Chris's long, dark eyelashes, a split second to admire the specific warm pink of his lips.

It's been building. For the past few weeks, for the past few years, even, but now it's undeniable, even to Joel, who really, really wants to be in denial. Because there's no guarantee, but he also knows he won't be able to just ignore it.

He really wants to kiss Chris.

And maybe, probably, he wants Chris in a lot more ways than that. (Definitely. He's been thinking about that strip of bare skin for days.)

Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smoky scent of fall leaves, and that only makes it worse. Drags him into the moment so fully, he can't stand the idea of not kissing Chris, preferably immediately. When he opens his eyes, Chris is looking up at him, those long lashes blinking slowly as his eyes flick from Joel's eyes, down to his lips, then widen slightly when they meet his eyes again.

Joel's heart thunders and he feels a sweet pang of tension in his chest when it hits him that Chris wants this, too.

It's been so long. So fucking long since he's felt this, the zip and twist of possibility sparkling through his veins.

It's a sigh of relief, every molecule of anxiety in his blood dissolving until he's serenely melting into the sidewalk beneath them.

It's a tornado, whipping him off the ground and spinning him in violent circles before releasing him into the wind; floating, weightless, exhilarated, fearless.

"Maybe we've already been tricked," he suggests to Chris with a small smile, leaning closer, slowly, disbelieving that with every centimeter he gets closer, Chris stays put until, finally, his small smile collides gently with Chris's lips.

Mostly, he's aware of Chris's hands under his hoodie, twisting so they're gripping the warm cotton and pulling him closer. Warm hands, then warm lips, then a quick but somehow lingering kiss. Their mouths come apart slowly, protesting the entire way, heavy breath mingling in the chilly air between them.

Joel hasn't kissed anyone since The Ex. And for years, The Ex was the only one he kissed. It's different, kissing Chris, but Joel's not sure he can really compare his last kisses with The Ex to his first kiss with Chris. Surely that's an unfair battle, pitting those final perfunctory kisses with The Ex, void of any sort of strong emotion or desire, against the kiss with Chris, filled with hope and carefully repressed desire.

None of that matters to the chemicals in Joel's brain, though, and that short kiss opened the floodgates for all the best ones to rush into his bloodstream. He feels so good and so powerful, like he could run a marathon or lift a semi over his head, and he can't fight the uncontrollable smile on his face when they separate.

Normally, this is the part where Joel would suddenly feel overcome with anxiety about what the fuck happens next, but Chris doesn't even give him the chance. "Do you wanna get the two for one special?" he asks, mirroring Joel's smile and nodding toward the sign in the window behind Joel's head.

"Vodka Red Bulls?" Joel arches an eyebrow disdainfully. "Do you wanna see the most annoying version of me possible?"

Chris bounces on his toes and grins mischievously. "Kind of, yeah. Definitely, actually." His hands are still against Joel's skin. Joel's hands are still on his waist. These are facts that Joel is conscious of and understands to be true, but also can't quite believe. This isn't his life. He doesn't get moments like this anymore.