Work Text:
"Oh my god I'm in love with you."
Holy shit, you didn't just say that out loud. Those words did not just leave your mouth, hitting the air like a butterfly fresh outta the chrysalis on its way to find itself from within and trying to see the lines between its past life and this one. A long hardship-filled journey is before it, and at the end of that journey, it will truly realize there was no difference. It's still the same creature, its mother would still love it if she hadn't been tragically carried off by a bird weeks before, never to be seen again. As a caterpillar, it'd vowed revenge for her. As a butterfly, it realizes that everything happens for a reason. If that food chain episode of Adventure Time it watched through that one kid's window had anything to say about it then by god what the fuck the butterfly really hoped that kid wasn't scarred for life after that shit as much as it was. What the fuck was Cartoon Network thinking with that. Seriously.
You are definitely not avoiding the subject at hand and rambling a butterfly's life narrative under your breath.
He's dropped the mail he was sifting through (probably trying to find the newsletter for the "Classically Classic" movie club he was vice president of downtown, you're pretty sure it's that time of the month when it gets sent out, and he's always anxious when it's late because he wants to be the first on top of new events). He's turning his head making his big dumb hair whoosh comically to look at you with this stupid fucking grin. Honestly the dumbest fucking goofy smile you've ever seen that you just absolutely cannot ever in a million years get enough of.
He's opening his mouth, your heart pounds in your ears. You hope the butterfly recovered after watching that episode, and you hope you can recover from this pure rejection you know's gonna slap you right across the face in approximately two point six seconds.
"I'm in love with you too, McFucker."
Here it comes, the end of this relationship. Arguably the best one you've had, definitely the longest at a whopping eight months, thirteen and a half days, but who's keeping track. You'll probably find someone else you're comfortable enough to whisper shit to yourself about butterflies to calm down, whatever right? Who wouldn't be cool with that. Dave will be more heartbroken over this than either of you, you can hear how his voice cracks right before he cries now. Or is it your voice that does that, and you that will be horribly crushed by John rejecting you. You always forget.
Wait.
What did he say?
"Did you just call me a McFucker? John, come on, that meme isn't even close to being in the post ironic phase yet. You'd've been better off printing out the word scrungo in the Back To the Future font and taping it to the shower door. Step up your game."
You breathe. Yes, not even off a by a half beat. You may be stunned as shit, and if he poked you you'd fall over and crackle into a million pieces, but you're on beat. That's what matters most. Not the fact that oh my god John said he loves you, nah, definitely not that. Why would that even affect your pulse or the color of your cheeks or this super strange heatwave that clearly only affects blond, freckled, gay Texan puppeteers because John looks fine as hell as always and the news playing off the TV hasn't said a peep about it yet. Yet being the keyword, after all there are 6billion people in the world. Odds are there's someone out there just as ravaged by this insane natural disaster as you are.
"Yeah, and I may or may not have added an 'I'm in love with you' onto that," he's just smiling at you, like he knows something's up or that spicya meataballio cat. Holy shit you should check the fridge, maybe he wants spaghetti for dinner. That's probably what this is all really about.
He practically giggles at you when your back turns to fling open the fridge door. You know what he looks like without even glancing over, but you do anyway. His shoulders shake, his eyes crease, he holds his stomach the tiniest bit like he's a fucking adventurous grandpa just been told that no, the 903-foot long boa constrictor can't be tamed, and yes, it is destroying the land, crops, and creatures within these 154 miles. The last part isn't laughable, but by god did the hilarity of the first statement carry over. If anyone could tame a snake that big, it's John. You did not just think that.
"Did you really not see that coming bro? We are living together, I mean shit dude you pulled me back into bed this morning and tried to make me miss class. We literally slow danced to eighties hits last week. When I get home we just laze on each other around the house for every task we gotta do. I'm baking? You're draped over me like a poncho. You're fucking with your site's comment system? I'm sitting on your armrest with an arm around your shoulder and pressing random keys. If wrecking your website isn't a sign of true love I don't know what is these days."
God that smile, every time it hits you like the first time, practically hits you with its best shot. Seriously fire away, John's face. You're ready. It's even cute as hell he's taken to rambling just as much as you and Dave. This kid's gonna be the end of you, and you wouldn't want it any other way.
Which brings you back to: holy shit you said you're in love with him, butterflies cannot handle how existential Adventure Time is these days, memes are corporate propaganda, and John loves you back.
Honestly, you didn't see that reply coming. His reasoning is absolutely sound if you remove your own data of graph one that states you're an asshole, graph two that shows you're an asshole, and graph three proves you did have an "xD" phase. Graph three is also under lock and key from Dave, with a code he will never figure out no matter how simple it may be.
Your own scattered thoughts are starting to get to you. Time to hone in on what matters most.
Seriously what the fuck was Pendleton Ward thinking with that episode? Sure it taught the food chain, but jesus it scared even you as a grown man. No kid needs to see that, nor any insects of the flying variety that can for reasons untold understand the inevitability of death.
"Earth to Bro? Like, you totally spaced out there," he smacks his imaginary gum, flutters his lashes the teeniest bit, and gives you a 90's high-schooler look like totally straight out of Clueless, which the two of you happened to watch last night. "Did you really think I didn't love you?" He pouts enough to tug at your heartstrings.
"No I," you pause, he smiles wider. You clear your throat, definitely because of that sickness you've acquired and not because you can't say a word. Those damn anti-vaccinators, ruining what could've been a perfectly lovely series of words arranged in a way to make actual sense. The news still hasn't mentioned a possible comrade you could connect with over this disease. "I didn't think that." You run a gloved hand through your hair, grimacing the slightest bit at the hairspray feel, before looking through the fridge as was your original endeavor.
Alas, no spaghetti in sight, but by now you've gotten your grips back with what's happening, and you realize John is not the meataballio cat, or even the knife emoji cat, he's just in love.
Holy shit he's in love.
With you.
"Dude you should relax, get a soda or something. This isn't the end of the world. If anything it's the start... The start of something new." He hums the tune from one of the many songs in the High School Musical franchise, your only weakness.
Maybe everyone can figure out your tells, and John's just the first to point them out.
He seems to be having a good time, laying it on thick as can be, whatever that may be. He leans his chin on his hands humming all the while, watching you intently, the light from the window making his eyes an even more impossible bright blue. One look at that color and all your scrambled thoughts fly out the window.
The cupboard bangs against the freezer while you search for your special mug shaped like Kamina's face.
"I'm chill," you search for words somewhere, but not even the alphabet fridge magnets can help. This is without a doubt the fourth time you've ever been speechless. The first was when Dave was dropped at your door, all big ghibli tears and snot running down his face while Roxy explained, "Yeah that drunken hookup three years ago? I meant to tell you sooner." The second was when Dave walked down the aisle in his graduation cap and gown, the one his friend Harley decked out so it'd spurt indoor fireworks that spelt out "fuck u" when he twirled on stage. He ran off before they could take back the diploma and you bought him a playstation vita that night. The third time was when John first pulled you down for a kiss with his stocky self, a trend that has rapidly increased since and by god are you glad for that.
You open the icebox, crack a couple cubes into your mug, and set the tray slowly back in, relishing the cool on your fingertips.
Right.
"You forgot something," he whispers by your ear, magically already around the counter with the orange liter out of the fridge and open in hand. Kamina's face changes color as the soda fills it, the cold making the paint react and make his cheeks blush.
"I just didn't grab it it yet," you mumble as he puts the jug back and away, shutting the fridge slowly like he's scared he's gonna spook you off into the sahara desert. "Just give me a sec."
He huffs with a finger jab to your chest, clearly already done with the hyena scoping out a dead gazelle routine. Do hyenas even live in the sahara? "Bro, you told me you're in love with me while I'm sorting the mail? Who does that? What if I just got a letter from the president that I've been called into service, mission statement already requires at least six whoopee cushions upon arrival. What then Bro? I'd have to walk out, leave you hanging probably in tears, while I head to the nearest joke shop for Obama. You can't just spring that on a guy when he's checking the mail, and then not only interrupt my one chance to become a super spy, but go dead silent like you didn't mean what you said!"
You realize now his face is just as red as yours, and you're both embarrassed for the same reason. You'd laugh your ass off if you could actually open your mouth.
The feeling to say it just kind of hit you. It wasn't something you'd fully realized just because you didn't think about it. But you do love him, you really really do. His ramble about the fucking president just made it hit you ten fold all over again. Nobody says shit like that; nobody can make you laugh like he does. He's the perfect little compact beefcake package, and he's still waiting for an answer.
"I, um, I'm sorry? I did mean it, though." You set your mug down to fidget with your gloves, studying the white paint that's meant to be the shine on your cup's shades.
"Telling me right now, out of the cloudy blue, is one of the many reasons I love you," he gives you a soft smile when you look back up at him. "You may have ruined my awesome grand romantic gesture I'd been planning to confess, but don't worry, I know how you can make it up to me."
John steps closer, gripping your shoulders lightly, and plants a little kiss on your lips. He pulls away from you slowly, bringing you further down to his level so he can press your foreheads together.
"I love you, so much, and that's never gonna change." If you really thought about it, you would've realized how he felt way before this, but some part of you couldn't believe that someone as incredible as him with his big dumb laugh and soft chocolate skin and general pure niceness could really feel that way about you.
But now, you grin warmly, any lingering doubt or anxiety finally flying out the window. He loves you, he's okay with your weird habits and the absolute bullshit you spew constantly. He's fine that some days you just can't do people, and he's first up to slam all the curtains shut and throw on some game grumps, ordering whatever you want for takeout. He knows you better than anyone; better than Dave or Roxy combined. And it's not that you let him in more than them, it's that he can just tell certain things about you. Like how caffeine gives you headaches (he must've seen you rub your head while chugging a mountain dew), or when he goes out of his way to give you either space or physical contact and he knows exactly when each is needed, or how he'll take pictures of graffiti on his way home from work to show you like he just knew you'd appreciate something like that. God, you're in so deep.
"C'mon." John lightly grips your wrist, dragging you out of the kitchen as you stumble, still dumfounded over this total nerd. You trip after him down the hall, only slamming into the bookshelf once.
Two pairs of discarded pajama pants and copious amounts of lube later, John's got you right where he wants you.
"Oh my god I love you, I love you so much John, you mean the world to me please, don't leave me oh god I love you John, love you so much," you breathe and groan into his neck.
He's got an arm wrapped around your torso, the other right above your lower back. Your calves meet behind his thighs while your stomachs touch. One of your hands is soft in his hair and the other on his neck by your mouth. Everything's so warm, even his smile that presses against your cheekbone as he listens to your quiet, breathy confessions.
He shushes you, slowing his hips into a soft rhythm. "It's okay, Bro. I love you too, just breathe. Alright? I'm not going anywhere."
"J-John." There they are. The tears. Allergy season is just a wreck on your sinuses, really just the worst time of year for sex because this always happens, and even more so today because of the uh. That's right, that disease you caught. You have the worst luck, you swear.
You grip him tighter as he plants a kiss against your throat, quietly laughing all the while. "I know, Dirk. I know."
"No, John. I gotta tell you this, alright? Jus' listen... Everytime we touch, I get this feeling, you know? And every time we kiss, I can practically reach for the sky. Can you hear my heart beat fast... I want this to last-" He shoves a pillow over your head, effectively cutting you off.
You finally stop trying to sing Cascada he lifts off the plush and holds your face in his big hands. "I'll be with you forever and ever, okay?" John wipes the wet from your cheeks with his thumbs. When you finish he holds you tighter than you think he ever has, and you explain about your allergies being the cause for that freak eye watering accident to which he responds, "Oh really? So allergy season is all year then?"
"Not everyone has an amazing immune system like you, I mean shit when was the last time you were even sick? Never? I think never. You don't know what it's like, I can't control this eye waterfall. You should feel lucky you've been graced with such beauty. Did you catch the rainbow? Usually about forty-seven seconds into Niagara Bawls you can see it over the ridge of my eyelash. Really such a beautiful sight few have had the opportunity to see. Scholars say-"
He laces his fingers with yours, sending a shock through your hand. He's out the bedroom door with his joy-buzzer discarded on the bed beside you in four seconds flat, you throw a pillow after his naked ass which sends him into a full blown guffaw.
"WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT? WE'RE NAKED." You smile while you holler.
Once you manage to drag yourself into the living room and lay on him where he's playing Fallout, he asks you, "What the fuck were you mumbling about butterflies earlier?"
"Cartoon Network has really gone off the deep end lately."