Double Trouble (discontinued)

Hello

"Let me take you out."

Tate glances up from his book uneasily. The bookshop has become a safe haven from the loud storm outside, and he wants to leave even less than usual. "Um, no?" He adjusts his grip, slides his strangely hazel eyes back to his page. "I think I'll pass." And yet a slight blush lights on his cheeks, and his heart beats a little faster.

Benji leans against the side of the chair, and Tate snaps his novel shut, shuddering. "C'mon, babe..."

Tate's blush emerges in full, not even making an effort to be subtle; he tucks away inside his hoodie, and prays that no one notices. "Okay, for one, never call me 'babe' again. Secondly, do not read over my shoulder. It's rude and intrusive. You aren't making the best case for yourself here." The words come rapid fire, flustered and bumping into one another, and Benji knows that he has the boy hooked.

"Tate, please?" Benji pouts, letting all of his weight fall onto his right side. "I'll be good, promise."

Hesitantly, Tate, shrugs. "I- I guess we can go out. But, nowhere fancy, and nothing too secluded."

Benji smirks, wide and cunning. "Aw, why? Scared of what I might do to you if we're alone?"

Tate's face is bright red, nearly alarming in nature, eyes wide and dark. Benji raises his eyebrows, holding back a giggle; the boy is too easy to rile up. "Sh-shut the hell up. This is why I hate your ass, you..." Tate hides for a moment inside of his sweatshirt, audibly cursing. He reemerges calmer and slightly less red. "We're going to Starbucks after I finish this chapter; you're buying."

Benji shrugs. "Fine, if I can hold your hand."

"What? Why? You're ridiculous. Fuck that. I'm not doing that. Hold your own damn hand." Tate buries himself back into his book. You know you want to, his brain whispers. He  ignores it for exactly two seconds before surrendering and entertaining the thought.

Clicking his tongue, the taller of the two murmurs, "Sassy," under his breath. He reminds himself to introduce Tate and Jude sometime. Some part of him releases an uneasy protest at the idea, but he is sure it's just a rare bout of nerves.

"Alright, I've changed my mind. You can, uh... h-hold my hand. If you must." Tate tries to casually slip his book into his bag, misses, and dashes to retrieve it from the floor. Benji smiles softly at the boy's embarrassment, eyes turning a little meltingly soft. "B-but, I withhold the right to change my mind back." Tate avoids any accidental eye contact, thrusts his hand in Benji's direction.

"Okay, cutie."

The hand is retracted before Benji can even reach for it. "Cut that out. You aren't allowed to call me cutie. I'm too old for that."

Benji scoffs. "And how old is that? Seventeen?" He has Tate pegged for eighteen at the most, and is really hoping that he's at least sixteen. Otherwise, he'll have to call it quits.

"Try twenty one." Benji gapes at Tate, who smirks with a Grinchy undertone. "Yeah, that's right. I'm of drinking age. So, stop treating me like I'm a twelve year old, or something."

Mind still reeling from this new discovery, Benji mutters, "Maybe I will, if you stop blushing like one."

There's a beat of silence, and for a moment, this feels like fizzy champagne flirtation and teasing banter. Then, "Your hand is about to have a lonely walk to Starbucks, because I am not touching you."

Benji is left scrambling after Tate and wondering how he can move so quickly with legs that short.

***

Tate, soggy from the rain, grumpily allows Benji to swing their linked hands between them with a furrowed brow. He isn't exactly sure when they started holding hands, or how, but his heart is dancing a tiny waltz, and that tells him that maybe this is okay.