I can feel him, each point where we touch sending shocks through my body. I want to lean my head against his shoulder. I want to snuggle with him in front of the fire. I want so fucking much that my entire bodyacheswith my want.
Apparently I am a weak man because I find myself moving ever so slightly, leaning my head against his shoulder. I feel him tense before he lets out a long breath. He doesn’t push me away but he doesn’t acknowledge what’s happening either.
It’s just like the kissing. It’s just like the way we get each other off. A happy participant and nothing more.
If Wade felt these same types of emotions, surely he would say something, right? He would give me a sign. He would bring it up. He’s never been afraid to tell me off, so I know he’s enjoying what we do during those nights, but he doesn’t want more.
I should be okay with that. Ihaveto be okay with that.
“If we had met before the world went to shit, do you think we would have been friends?”
It takes me a moment to respond, wanting to give him an earnest answer. “I want to think we would be, yeah. I think…” my words trail off for a second. I clear my throat and try again. “I think you would have gotten along with my brother.”
Wade hums. “Yeah?”
“Mhmm. He was quiet. Really introspective, always thinking about why things are the way they are. Real philosophical guy.” My heart races in my chest. It hurts, talking about him, but at the same time, there’s something really freeing about it.
I realize with a start that I want to share this with Wade. I want to keep the memory of my brother alive.
“So I’d like him because he’s quieter than you?”
“Yeah,” I say with a small smile. “And you both overthink things.”
“Do not,” Wade says and I can hear his frown. It just makes my smile wider.
“He joined the military, before everything went down. They paid for his schooling. Mechanical engineering. His dream was to work on space robots.”
“So he was the smart one,” Wade cuts in and it startles a snort out of me.
“Yeah, you’re not wrong. He might have been quiet but he was always overly protective. That’s how--” my voice cuts off, breaking. The words caught in my throat.
Instead of saying anything, Wade reaches over, taking my hand. He squeezes it softly. I adjust, lacing our fingers together, resting our hands on his knee. I stare at our hands for a long time. Good thing I’m sitting, otherwise I would be swooning at the simple gesture.
“That’s how he died,” I say, just barely above a whisper. “He was protecting me.”
Wade squeezes my hand. “Thank you for telling me,” he says, keeping his voice just as soft as mine. “It’s not my place to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway. I think you carry your brother’s legacy with you, every single day that you survive. You aregood, Briggs. Your brother protected you and in turn, you protect other people.” Wade clears his throat. “You protectme,” he adds softly.
I don’t even notice that I’m crying until Wade is turning on the couch, facing me. He lets go of my hand so that he can clear the tears away. His movements and touches are so gentle they make my heart ache with how much I love him.
I love him so much it hurts me. Yet I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I blink the tears away, until I can see Wade’s face more clearly. His bright green eyes are so soft. It makes the ache inside of me even worse, hollowing me out until there’s nothing left but my desire to be held by Wade.
“I--” Wade cuts himself off before saying more. My heart leaps in my chest.
Wade stares at me for a long moment before he moves closer, slow enough that I can pull away if this isn’t what I want. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I pull away now, I would never forgive myself.
That’s enough of a go ahead for Wade to lean forward the rest of the way, pressing his lips against my own. This kiss is different. Normally, our kisses are with the end goal of coming. This one is soft, barely there. This kiss is comfort, a physical reminder that we’re not alone in this.
It’s everything I’ve been pining for. This kiss is everything to me.
My arms come around Wade’s back, my fingers digging into the back of his shirt. Wade’s hands move away from my face, grabbing onto my hips. He carefully moves me off the couch and into his lap. I make a little noise and Wade uses that as an opportunity to pull his face away from my own.
Before I can mourn the loss of his kisses, he pushes my face against his shoulder, holding me tight. I can appreciate that this is what I needed. This is so much better than kisses. Wade holds me tight, one hand against the back of my head, the other against my spine.
“I’ve got you,” he says softly, and I believe him. I don’t know if this changes anything between the two of us but something inside of me feels different, feels brighter. This feels like a line that’s been crossed.
I have no idea what it means but emotionally, I’m so wrung out that I can’t really think about it too much. I hold onto Wade,snuggling against his chest, allowing him to hold me. When my eyes grow heavy, I don’t fight the pull of sleep. My head hurts and my throat feels scratchy from crying. Hopefully a little sleep against Wade’s chest will help me feel better.
