Chapter Text
Somehow, Anthony and Hanbon end up on the floor, wrestling, again.
Coy’s tired. He’s covering his face with one hand, stifling his laughter, trying not to look at Will.
Anthony yelps from behind them, and Coy turns to find that Will’s already facing him, a knowing look on his face, biting down a smile.
Coy gestures with his head over to where Hanbon’s playfully shoving Anthony over, their limbs tangled in a mess, and he gives Will a pointed look, like what the hell is their problem. Will looks back in disbelief, mouth agape, like they’re unbelievable.
“Maybe we should start doing this,” Coy jokes.
“I was just thinking that!” Will laughs.
Giggling, Coy reaches over to slaps him lightly on the arm, the way Hanbon does, and Will doubles over laughing.
“Stooop, Coy, don’t hit me on the arm!” Will pouts in mock offense, trying to match the teasing way Hanbon’s tone gets with Anthony. “Nooo, don’t grab me by the waist!!”
Coy wheezes. It takes him a few seconds to recover, before he leans over towards Will, whispering, “Okay, I’m gonna jump on you now.”
Will grins. “Do it.”
Coy grabs both of Will’s shoulders and shoves him over, his chair toppling to the ground with Coy alongside him. They end gasping for breath on the floor, legs intertwined, Coy’s head landing on Will’s chest, which is heaving with laughter.
After a moment, Will sparks back up again and rolls them over so that he’s hovering above Coy, hands braced on either side of him.
Coy sputters, trying to shove Will back by grabbing him by the collar, but he doesn’t budge. Just smiles down at him, all self-satisfied, looking at Coy like he’s won or something.
Coy tries to look up at him, all scathing, like you’re ridiculous, but he can’t even keep from breaking out into a smile, because Will is laughing, and really close, caging him in, and God, this is weird, but he smells kinda nice, and all Coy can really do in the moment is smile back up at him.
Remembering they’re supposed to be wrestling, or something, Coy figures he should probably do something to get the upper hand. He tries to ignore the fact that he kinda likes it down here, and that he doesn’t think he’s ever won a fight, and that he definitely doesn’t think he’s gonna win this one.
He tries at grabbing the sleeve of Will’s t-shirt and tugging it down, but all that does is bring Will down to one elbow, and for a fraction of a second he’s just breathing in Coy’s ear, lips nearly brushing his cheek, and it’s a fraction of a second where Coy can’t hear or see anything but Will.
And then Will rolls off him, landing on the ground beside him with a thud, and Coy sucks in a sharp inhale and tries not to think about it. He feels like his head is filled with static.
“Did I win?” he asks, looking over at Will with a disbelieving smile. Will’s all disheveled, shirt askew in all the places Coy had tugged at it. Coy fights the urge to reach out and fix it, run his fingers along the hem. Jesus, no. Absolutely not.
Will squints at him like he’s just said something unbelievable. It takes Coy a minute to remember he’d even said anything at all.
Will shakes his head. “Nah,” he responds, and digs his fingers into Coy’s side. Coy immediately doubles over with laughter. He’s guarding his stomach, grabbing for Will’s wrists, when he realizes Anthony’s shouting has stopped being directed at Hanbon and started being directed at him.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” Anthony shouts from across the garage.
-
The Anthony and Hanbon situation does not get any better. Actually, it gets worse, like, in ways Coy couldn’t have possibly imagined.
Currently, they’re stumbling home from the bar, a bar that had seemed a lot more walking distance when they’d been heading over there, sober. Now it seems like a thousand mile stretch from here to their front door.
Will and Coy have their arms linked together, both leaning on each other and both equally unstable. Not that Coy’s complaining. Will’s warmth is always comforting, especially since Coy always runs cold.
They watch each other’s feet against the pavement as they walk in time with one another, steps falling in unison, heads occasionally bumping against each other. It makes Coy’s heart feel light. He lets Will lean into him.
Currently, they’re a few paces behind Anthony and Hanbon, who have no such harmony going on.
While drinking usually makes Will peaceful and Coy sentimental (if a little impulsive), drinking makes Ant and Hanbon cling and paw at each other like wild animals. It’s a lot.
Hanbon’s seemingly just convinced Anthony to carry her the rest of the way (or Anthony’s convinced her), and Anthony stops to laugh uproariously at every joke she makes, teetering in a way that makes Coy worry about him holding up Hanbon for the whole walk home. Or, he would be worried, if Hanbon wasn’t clinging onto him like a life raft. Right now, she’s got both her arms wrapped around him, her face burrowed in the chest of his jacket.
Coy raises an eyebrow at Will, like are you seeing this? Will tilts up to face Coy when he feels his eyes on him, and he breaks out into a laugh once he sees what Anthony and Hanbon have going on.
“We should one-up them,” Will whispers to him, leaning in close as he says it, woozy from the liquor. Coy can feel Will’s warm breath on his face, but he can’t find it in him to mind.
Coy lets out a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know– hah,” his voice cuts off, stilted, as he feels Will nuzzle his head into the crook of Coy’s shoulder, his forehead brushing against Coy’s cheek. Will makes a satisfied murmur sound against him, lips accidentally brushing the skin of his neck, and Coy just laughs, breathy, helpless.
It’s not that Will’s never done this before, but Coy’s never been this drunk and wanting when he’s done it, and now he feels dazed and overheated, nauseated by his own feelings.
Decidedly not thinking for a little bit, Coy takes his other hand out of his pocket and paws at Will’s hair, because it feels like the right thing to do, and Will lets out a little unsteady sigh onto his neck that makes Coy light up like a switchboard.
Coy stumbles a little, not totally in control here (not in control at all, really, but that’s not a comforting thought). He swears he can feel Will’s eyelashes fluttering against his sweater. He tries to start up his brain again.
“So… how’re we gonna one-up them?” Coy tries.
“We could do that,” Will suggests, nodding up ahead at their friends. Anthony’s still holding Hanbon unsteadily in his arms.
“You think you could carry me?” Coy teases, his mouth moving faster than his head.
Will’s laughing now, his breath falling over Coy’s collarbones. “I know I could carry you,” he huffs.
“‘s a lotta confidence from the guy who’s nuzzling me like a housecat,” Coy says. For a moment, he doesn’t think Will’s going to respond, and then he feels warm lips and—Jesus—teeth on his neck, pressing down on the sensitive skin there, and it’s only for half a second, but Coy lets out a throaty sound that he’s not proud of.
Coy watches Will stumble away and hide his flushed face with his hand, like he has the nerve to be shy about it, or something.
“D’you– did you just fucking bite me?” Coy stammers, his mouth agape.
He feels his neck with his hand, where it’s still wet from the half second when Will’s tongue had dragged along the skin.
And Will’s still covering his mouth with the palm of his hand, hiding the widest grin behind it. Coy is going to kill this man.
“Are you insane? Feel this,” he demands, grabbing Will’s stupid hand and pressing it against his stupid barely-there bite mark.
Will runs his fingers along his neck, but his eyes stay on Coy’s the whole time. Coy shivers, without meaning to, and he knows Will can feel it under the pads of his fingers.
“Sorry,” Will smiles, removing his hand.
They start walking again, and Coy regrettably misses the warmth of how they were before, arms twisted around each other.
“You don’t look sorry, you animal. What’d you do that for?” Coy plays up his annoyance for the sake of his dignity.
Will shrugs. Just shrugs. Coy is actually going to kill him. “You called me a housecat,” he answers, like it’s an actual explanation.
“Yeah and you really proved me wrong by biting the fuck out of my neck,” Coy argues through a laugh, fighting like hell to hold back a smile.
“I didn’t ‘bite the fuck out of your neck,’ that was, like, barely a nibble! You’ll live,” Will scoffs, hiding a smile behind his hand again.
“Barely a nibble??”
“Yeah!” Will defends.
Coy finally breaks down laughing. He knocks into Will, and Will takes the invitation to link his arm around Coy’s again. Thank God.
“You know what, maybe I will bite the fuck out of your neck,” Coy says, still set on trying to be mad, or at least trying to pretend to be.
“I wouldn’t care. I’d welcome it, actually,” Will smiles at the ground.
“Really,” Coy snarks.
“Yeah, cause I’m a grown-ass fucking man. I can take a few bites,” Will shrugs, and Coy leans his head, laughing, against Will’s shoulder.
It’s only been a few more minutes when Coy starts to complain about his legs hurting. To be fair, with how much he drank so early in the night and how lightweight he is, it’s a miracle how much walking he’s already done.
“Still don’t think I could carry you?” Will teases. Coy groans at that, like how are you still on this, but Will doubles down. “C’mon, even you know I could,” he insists.
Coy just scoffs, high off of the feeling of getting on Will’s nerves. “Right, we get it, you’re buff now.” Coy drawls, rolling his eyes in Will’s direction.
“I never said that!” Will huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah, but you were thinkin’ it.” Coy bumps a shoulder against Will’s, which is hard to do when they’re already walking pressed so tightly together. They both stumble a little to the side.
“Well, maybe you were thinking it,” Will teases, “But I–”
“Don’t– don’t accuse me of being into you just ‘cause I’m gay,” Coy protests, ‘cause that’s offensive, and he’s been thinking a very normal amount about the muscle Will’s been putting on in the past few weeks– and not that he didn’t think Will’s had a nice body before– or that he was thinking about Will’s body before, but–
“I never said that either,” Will cuts off Coy’s drunken, rambling train of thought, which, thank God, “–and don’t say I was thinking it because I wouldn’t. I would’ven’t– would never disrupt the sacred harmony of our friendship like that,” Will says, a little slurred, but decisive.
“Now get up into my arms so I can prove you wrong. You know, we still have to out-couple them,” Will adds, nodding towards Ant and Hanbon, who are way ahead of them at this point.
“O-kay,” Coy says tentatively, nervousness creeping into his voice as he untangles their arms and drapes his wrist over Will’s neck. “Please don’t fucking drop me,” Coy lowers his voice into the crook of Will’s shoulder.
Will smiles, falters, and smiles again, as Coy’s breath fans out over his neck. “Wouldn’t,” he promises, and scoops Coy up in one fluid motion.
He’s impressively steady for how drunk he is, as if fortified by the weight of Coy in his arms. Coy realizes he doesn’t blame Hanbon for her clinginess at all. Once his feet leave the ground, all he wants to do is to throw both his arms around Will and bury his face in his jacket.
He feels weirdly safe, as if he isn’t being carried by possibly the clumsiest man alive. In the moment, Will is warm and sturdy like a weighted blanket, like Coy could sink into him.
“This is kinda nice,” Coy admits, quiet enough that he kind of hopes Will doesn’t hear it. Of course he does, though.
Will just laughs, and Coy can hear the rhythm of it from where he’s being held up against his chest. “What?” Coy asks.
“Nothing, you’re just– got really comfortable, huh?” Will grins.
“Shhh– just shut up and hold me,” Coy smiles peacefully, tucking himself into Will’s front, and when Will laughs again, he can feel it reverberate through his whole body.
-
By the time they get home, it’s still barely 10pm (cons of going to the bar in the mid-afternoon, and drinking way more than you’d meant to).
Coy’s just drunk enough to let Will carry him up to the front door. He even watches through fits of giggles as Will tries to unlock the door without letting go of Coy, the keys jingling as he attempts to turn the doorknob without moving either of his arms. Anthony and Hanbon find it hilarious, and are useless through the whole thing.
By the time they get inside, Coy doesn’t want the night to end. He’s still buzzy off of the alcohol and clingy off of spending the walk home in Will’s arms.
“The night is young!” he exclaims, collapsing on the couch. Will goes down easily with him, his arm still lazily draped around Coy’s waist. “We should watch a movie!” Coy gasps.
Hanbon laughs at his little burst of energy, and she and Anthony both happily join in on the couch, fumbling for the remote.
A few scenes in, as Coy definitely should’ve predicted, Hanbon is already seated mostly in Anthony’s lap, the two of them whispering jokes in each others’ ears.
Coy rolls his eyes till his head lolls onto the back of the couch, and, as usual, he looks to Will for help.
“Should’ve guessed drunk movie night would make us third wheels, huh?” Coy asks, tone hushed, though he’s not too worried about Anthony and Hanbon overhearing from their own little bubble. They might as well be miles away.
He isn’t actually bitter, though, he’s still too buzzed to really care, and right now Will’s face is lit all softly in the dim TV light, from where he’s smiling at Coy.
Will tilts his head in confusion. “But there’s two of us. Doesn’t that make four wheels? I feel like that’s the right amount, of– of wheels,” Will ponders.
Coy swats at him for being stupid and, in a moment of endearment, tangles their legs together on the couch. He faintly feels Will’s ankles tighten around his, like a small hug.
Coy follows as Will’s gaze settles some distance behind him, to where Hanbon has climbed fully into Anthony’s lap. Christ.
“So, should we…” Coy starts with a slight smile, trailing off when he sees how Will is looking at him, earnest and sweet, and if Coy had no survival instincts or self-control whatsoever, he thinks he would probably climb on top of Will right in that moment.
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence, though, because Will’s not far behind on his train of thought.
“‘Kay. C’mon,” Will agrees, a smile tugging at his lips, as he angles his body towards Coy, patting him firmly on the thigh. “Get in my lap,” he grins.
And fuck if that doesn’t do something for Coy.
He feels unbearably warm all over, tries not to think as he watches Will spread his legs, one hand pulling loosely at the denim of Coy’s jeans.
“What?” Will looks at him, smiling all innocent the way he does, like he hasn’t just asked Coy to do the most insane thing in the world. Coy would love to live in whatever world Will’s mind occupies, where this is just a friendly gesture between two guys who don’t give it a second thought.
The heat is only getting worse, draping itself over his limbs, and Coy has to shrug off his sweater. The collar of his button-down catches a little on the wool, and when he resurfaces, it’s to Will biting back a smile, eyes sparkling in his direction.
“Yeah, take off your clothes, that’ll help,” Will jokes.
“‘s hot,” Coy shrugs, blush creeping up his neck. “Aren’t you hot in that?” he asks, gesturing towards Will’s long-sleeve.
Coy realizes, belatedly, that Will doesn’t look like he’s wearing a shirt underneath. He curses himself quietly. Don't think about that, dammit.
“Nope,” Will responds, simply, and there’s this look on his face, as if he can tell what this is doing to Coy, and it sends Coy reeling, only makes him sink further into it. I swear to God, if he’s doing this on purpose-
Will waits for Coy to move, but it's a hopeless case. Coy feels frozen in place.
“Here, I’ll just get in yours,” Will offers after a moment’s hesitation, and Coy doesn’t even process what’s happening until Will is clambering gracelessly on top of him.
“Oh my God, get off!” Coy squeaks, slapping Will on the arm, “You’re crushing me.”
Will laughs and lets Coy shove him into the couch, shoving him back for good measure, until they both end up wrestling aimlessly. Coy can only keep up the fight for so long, he's a lot scrawnier than Will, and the alcohol isn't doing him any favors. Will's about to wrestle them both off the couch entirely, when Coy decides he's had enough.
He grabs hastily onto Will's shirt collar, holding him in place as he swings a leg over his lap.
"There," Coy announces quietly, as he settles his weight on top of Will.
Will's lips part in surprise. His eyes fall to where Coy's fingers are still resting along the collar of his shirt, and then dart back up to Coy. They're close enough that Coy can see himself partially reflected in WIll's wide pupils.
Suddenly, Will's leaning forward—to whisper something in his ear, he realizes—and the movement overwhelms his senses. Coy loses his balance slightly, his hand reflexively gripping on to Will's shoulder for stability, and Will grabs onto his upper thigh to help steady him.
They both take a second to catch their breath, hands lingering. Coy swears he can feel Will's grip on his leg tighten. His heartbeat pounds in his ears.
Coy doesn’t think he moves, at all. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything, and Will catches on the movement with his eyes. Coy doesn’t think to stop himself, then, when his own gaze drops to Will’s lips, parted, pink and muted in the low light.
He can feel each point of contact with Will, and maybe he's just that touch-starved, or maybe it's something else that he's been forcing himself not to think about, something that draws his eyes over to Will's every time he tells a joke, something that wants Will to keep getting too close like this, against his own good.
For a fraction of a second, Coy lets himself think about it. If he were to let himself look at Will right now, let his eyes trace the movement down his throat as he swallows, the stubble along the soft line of his jaw, the gentle tilt of his dark eyelashes, not thinking about the fallout. What's the worst that could happen?
He knows the answer, it's nothing good. He's nearly ruined some of his closest friendships this way. But he's only human, still drunk and wanting to bury himself in Will's warmth and his scent while he can still afford to blame it on the drinks.
Will leans forward again, more tentatively this time. "I was gonna say," he whispers against the shell of Coy's ear, "I think they noticed."
Coy stares blankly at Will for a moment, lost.
Then the room, the movie, and their two friends sitting beside them all come rushing back into his periphery. He vaguely registers that it's probably only been a few seconds since he climbed into Will's lap.
Coy looks off to the left at Ant and Hanbon, who immediately turn their heads away, cartoonishly fast, like they hadn’t been watching. They look like caught squirrels. It makes him smile immediately, cutting through the anxious edge of the moment.
When he looks back at Will, the tension hanging over the room is too much, and he can't hold back. They both collapse into laughter, Coy’s head falling easily on Will’s shoulder, both of them rolling over and grinning at each other.
Coy is so, so thankful that he and Will are this comfortable with each other, that they can brush past that moment so easily, right back into their normal selves. For a moment, he’d thought the air would stay tense like that forever.
Anthony and Hanbon are still looking at them, like he and Will had done anything worse than what the two of them had just been up to, which Coy finds insanely unfair.
“You guys were being weird!” Anthony accuses, raising his voice like he always does.
“Yeah, cause you guys were being weird!!” Will exclaims, clutching his stomach.
Hanbon doesn’t deny it, laughing into Anthony’s shoulder, but Anthony goes bright pink, stammering like a petulant child before seemingly deciding to give up. Will gives Coy a celebratory high-five, interlocking their fingers and turning it into a prolonged hand-hold of celebration. Coy laughs at his antics, but doesn’t let go.
-
By the end of the night, Coy ends up half-curled up in Will’s lap anyways.
“That can’t be comfortable,” Hanbon grimaces at the two boys fast asleep, tucked into each others’ sides.
Anthony laughs quietly, throwing a blanket over the two of them as the end credits roll.