'tis the season (to love you)

CHAPTER THREE

"So how do you feel about starting this road trip off with In The Hall of The Mountain King?"

Eddy gives him a devious smirk from where he stands propped up against the car, fiddling with his phone. "You know I won't be able to hold back from jamming to it."

It's four days after the agreement has been made, and it really feels like those four days have gone by way too fast: it's the last afternoon of term exams, and they're already getting prepared to leave for Lamerra. They've both agreed to Brett driving the entire way, because really, he's indebted to Eddy a whole lot, so he should take up most of the burden of this trip on his shoulders.

God, he's so happy Eddy agreed, though. He doesn't know what he would've done if Eddy hadn't.

"Snacks? Check. Luggage? Check. Road trip music? Check." Brett leans against his seat and sighs, loosening his shoulders to ward off the ache of a whole morning spent lugging bags into the car. "Okay, did we miss anything?"

"Hmmh, don't think so."

"Then get in, sucker. We're going on an adventure."

Eddy shakes his head, and Brett catches him murmuring idiot fondly under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat. And away we go, he thinks, a little whimsical. So sue him—he's fucking happy as a clam. This is gonna turn out great.

Soon enough, they get out into the highway, the frenetic notes of Grieg's piece blasting through the speakers loud enough to rattle the little bobblehead composers Brett's got lined up across the dashboard. Eddy's bopping his head to the rhythm of the piece, smile wide and relaxed, and god, but this—this is what a fun road trip feels like.

• • •

It's not until two hours later that Brett begins his masterplan.

"Okay, so we should probably figure out how to act like a couple."

Out of the corner of his eye, the taller man jolts in his seat, surprised. Is it too early of a question to pose? Before Brett can second guess himself, however, Eddy shakes his head and laughs. "Ah, well—sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Let's start with something more casual, yeah?" Brett moves his left hand between them and splays it out wide for Eddy to take. Then: a wild smirk makes itself known on his lips. "Hold my hand, please, baby?"

"The fuck." Eddy snorts, clearly torn between amusement and disgust, and Brett laughs, delighted. "Keep your hands on the wheel, you lunatic."

"Not until you hold it first, sweetcakes."

"God, we need to work on your pet names." Brett doesn't even have to look to know Eddy's rolling his eyes at him, but hey, if it takes goading him for this to work, then Brett's not about to complain. He wiggles his hands again, a clear invitation, and after a few seconds of mock-sighing on his best friend's part, Eddy finally takes the bait and reaches out halfway.

Eddy's hand in his is warm and calloused, strong and dependable—he's got musician's hands. Brett's gaze flickers to their entwined fingers for a moment like it can't help itself, but then he successfully pulls it away before Eddy notices.

His own hand feels too-warm, suddenly.

It shouldn't really be feeling nice, but it somehow does.

"So?" The taller man tilts his head as he examines their shared grasp, clearly oblivious to the confusion swirling around Brett's mind like a burgeoning snow storm. Not that Eddy would know anything about it, of course, but Brett's feeling a little out-of-sorts right now, so whatever. "This work for you?"

It more than does, but he's not about to say that. "Yeah." Brett nods, slowly withdrawing his hand away back to himself and trying his best to make it look like he hadn't been reluctant about it. Shit, that's such a weird thought. "Be still my beating heart," he adds dryly to cover up his momentary stumble, watching Eddy smirk like the Cheshire Cat.

When Brett really thinks about it, Eddy doesn't look half bad at all. Ask anyone around on the con, for example: they'd be ecstatic just to get to look at Eddy, for fuck's sake. His propensity for v-necks aside, the man exudes calm and confidence with every action—muscled and long-limbed with features so unfairly striking, it's almost unreal.

Well. Not that Brett is attracted to that sort of thing anyway.

Shaking himself free from the sudden awkwardness that thought had brought to his composure, Brett clears his throat and throws a smile over to the man in question. The unsettled feeling in his gut makes him a little bit reckless. When he opens his mouth, the words that come are not exactly what he'd planned for in the first place. "Okay, next item on the list—let's take a picture together! Grandmamma will love it."

Eddy raises an eyebrow at him even as he digs through his pockets for his phone. "What, like now?" He holds it up to take a selfie of the two of them, but Brett has other plans before that, sorry, Eddy. He tugs him close, slings an arm around Eddy's shoulder and lands a sloppy kiss on his cheek just as the shutter clicks.

Eddy flings himself back towards the car window so fast, Brett's half-worried he'll get whiplash. And yeah, he had expected that reaction to happen, but not like that.

"Sorry," he offers, because that wasn't very good, in hindsight, and. Fuck, but that whole thing had been a mistake, huh? Goddammit. "Sorry, I was just thinking—I'm so sorry—"

"That's," and it's here that Eddy sighs, feeling uncomfortably too close to a punch in the gut, "it's fine. Just lemme know the plan next time, 'kay?"

Brett nods wordlessly, dragging his gaze back to the road. Guilt curls insidiously in his gut. It's not a very good feeling to have. "Well? What do you think?" Perhaps a bit of levity can move them past that whole mess. He gently nudges Eddy's arm, prompting him to look over the photo they took. "Boyfriend material?"

Raised eyebrows greet him in reply. "You wish. But—this looks good." There's a slight pause, almost nonexistent. "Looks convincing."

"Really?" Thank god. "Great, then! C'mon, post it on Facebook and tag me. She's definitely gonna see that. Bonus points for us already."

Eddy looks over to him then, something unreadable sparking in his gaze, but Brett studiously ignores the gleam in those dark eyes and barrels on forward. There's no time to hash out whatever's going on in his best friend's mind right now. Later then, he makes a mental note to himself.

In the end, they settle for a post with their selfie and the simple caption of "Me and my best guy." That should work just fine.