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No takesie-backsies, Finn.
“You going to keep being an asshole or can I let you up?” he asks, his thumb brushing against my temple.
I lean into the touch a little, loving his hands on me.
“No, I’m done. I’ve learned my lesson, Daddy; let me up.”
He huffs a laugh and moves off of me. “Jesus, you’re getting worse and worse. I can’t imagine you in fifty years.”
I snort a laugh. “Yeah, well you love me just as I am. I have no incentive to change.”
He helps me sit up and tugs me into his side once more. I lean my head against his shoulder, and we just sit there for ages, my eyelids growing heavy with sleep. There is only one place I feel safe these days. And it’s wherever Finn is.
“Alright, Landon, time to go. You need to get to bed,” Finn says, his mouth muffled by my hair.
I sit upright slowly, blinking at him. Without thought or planning, I press my lips to his once more. Everything with Finn just feels so natural. It doesn’t feel wrong or weird at all. It feels absolutely right.
Of course, he lets me do it. He never says no to me.
I pull back, our mouths parting, and I scoot to the edge of the hood.
“Alright, drive me home, Finn,” I say because I’m still not comfortable behind a wheel with my prosthetic. It will take a while to get there. In the meantime, I have Uber and Finn.
Always Finn.
Always him.
“Yeah,” he breathes, clearing his throat and walking me to the passenger side of the car.
He pulls the door to his car open, helping me inside, and when we drive down the dirt road back to civilization, I just turn my head and watch him until I fall asleep.
* * *
We enter my apartment, my body leaning against his as we stumble to my bedroom. I feel his hands on me, pulling my shirt over my head, tugging my pants down my legs, and gently removing my prosthetic right before I flop down on the bed clad in only my underwear.
“Always trying to get me naked,” I mutter with a laugh.
“You wish,” he grumbles. “Can you scoot over?”
I’m sideways on the bed, sprawled out like a starfish, taking up the whole mattress. But I don’t even bother moving because I know he’ll get in beside me and move me just where he wants me.
He makes everything right. All the crooked parts even out when he’s around.
“Don’t even know why I bother asking,” he mutters, and then I feel the bed dip. He’s crawling up next to me, pulling me up against his warm, hard body and I become putty in his hands.
We started doing this months ago—sharing a bed, cuddling against each other all night.
I don’t hate it.
I fucking need it.
My best friend in all the world curled up next to me, feels like home.
I turn over and fling my arm over his bare chest, burrowing my head right into his shoulder, smelling the scent of his deodorant. A contented sigh escapes me.
“Happy New Year, Finn,” I mumble into his skin.
“Happy New Year, Landon,” he says softly, his lips pressing onto the top of my head.
