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In here.
Oscar flicks on the light. Wrong. In his bedroom is only the family dog and a pile of laundry he should’ve started working on yesterday, at the latest. No use dwelling on it; it’s not like he’s going to start it now. Flick off.
It’s not very fun looking for Logan all over the place, and if Oscar’s being honest, it’s far too damn late in the evening to be opening every door in the house trying to find his friend. Ach, boyfriend. That word still has trouble making it out of his mouth.
He’s in the middle of the hallway when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket and nearly sends him flying through the ceiling. He picks it up—Logan. Hah. Really, for all Oscar knows, he could be halfway across the Pacific now.
He fights the urge to roll his eyes as he puts the phone to his ear, eyes instead scanning around the hallway for a doorway Logan might pop out of. “Logan. Where are you?”
“Hey—oh.” Even on the same property, the signal is weak and Logan’s voice comes out staticky. Oscar can still hear his coy smile through it. “You’ve been looking for me? Cute.”
“No, not cute.”
Logan laughs, kissably softly, the kind of soft that Oscar knows if the microphone were only a few inches farther away, it wouldn’t be audible on the call. “In the bathroom, babe. The one with, err..” There’s a pause. “The one with the painting of the turtle.” The one that’s a hop and skip away from where Oscar’s standing now.
He hangs up—he doesn’t bother saying goodbye, he’ll just be saying hello again in three seconds.
When Oscar opens the bathroom door, he’s greeted with. Well. A few things.
One: The sink faucet running on straight cold, full blast. It’s all going down the drain.
Two: Logan’s toothbrush laying in the sink haphazardly, like it was just tossed in there. The toothpaste appears to have fallen on the ground (Oscar makes the grand assumption that Logan didn’t put it there on purpose).
Three: Logan sitting on the closed toilet, mouth slightly ajar, phone flashlight pointed towards it. He meets Oscar’s eye contact appearing helpless.
“Logan..” Oscar doesn’t know to do anything but sigh. Just sigh. Just.. whatever the fuck.. it’s like babysitting. He turns the faucet off and picks up the toothpaste from the floor, feeling Logan’s gaze follow his every move. When he’s done he realizes he can’t really avoid asking anymore: “What are you doing?”
Logan’s eyes light up at the invitation to speak. “I need you to see if I have a cavity.”
Yeah.. no. Nope. Nah. Oscar’s done.
“What’s given you the idea I’ll be able to spot one?”
“You—” Logan frowns. “It’s a huge hole in the tooth. Anyone could spot one.”
Oscar pops a hand onto his hip. “Well, why can’t you do it then?”
“Because I. Look. I tried to take a picture but it’s all blurry. I need another person.”
“Logan, I love you, but no.”
Logan groans and puts his phone down in his lap. Oscar continues, the guilt smacking him in the face, “Maybe in the morning, okay? But it’s late, and I’ve been looking for you for like, at least five minutes. I don’t want to poke around your mouth with a flashlight. I want to go to bed.”
That turns the frown upside down, like nothing happened at all—“You want to go to bed? With me, you say?”
God. “Obviously yes.”
Logan hops up and grabs Oscar, drags him down the hallway back to the bedroom like it’s nothing. The dog scurries out as they arrive (he never has been the biggest fan of Logan) and the two skip over the laundry, across the carpet, to the bed. And Logan drags him there too. Over the blankets and everything.
Oscar feels like he’s done some minor exercise by the time they’re lying still, but Logan’s only laughing, breathless, again in that soft manner, and Oscar couldn’t kiss him before on the phone but he can now and he does.
Kisses him with a delicate hold on his cheek, other hand creeping to the back of his neck, keeping him close for it, making him savor it. Logan’s skin is rougher than the girls Oscar’s kissed before, and it electrifies him every time, the sensation of the stubble under his hand and against his chin. Maybe a full beard would feel better, but Logan hasn’t yet been able to grow that much and, frankly, Oscar doesn’t think it’d look very good.
Logan sighs just like it’s the first time every time he pulls away. His own hands are on either side of Oscar’s jaw, barely touching him, like he’s made of porcelain. Oscar sees a smile on Logan’s lips as he opens his eyes.
“You’re good at it, you know. I don’t know if you’re aware.” Logan flops onto his back and Oscar does the same, staring at the ceiling as he takes his boyfriend’s words in. He’s had three girlfriends, he sure fucking hopes he’d be at least a decent kisser. Logan’s hand crawls over to Oscar’s and takes it, so gently, and Oscar lets him, of course he does.
Logan’s touch sends Oscar’s heartbeat into his throat. “You’re not too shabby either, I guess.” That earns him a soft kick in the ankle, leaving both of them laughing. “No, but—but really. Really good at it. Really.”
Logan sighs. “We’re such teenagers to be talking like this.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Could only be more teenager if we, like, put on some music and made out right now.”
“I told you I wanted to go to bed.”
“Just teasing you,” Logan giggles, rolling back over so that his face is centimeters away from Oscar’s cheek. He doesn’t flip himself but he does look over into Logan’s eyes, deep and green and thoughtful.
Oscar’s lucky that it’s Logan out of all the guys he could’ve liked, because it’s always been easy with Logan. He’s never had to give anything his all and then some; the conversations flow like water, he holds Logan’s stare like it’s nothing. He’s never had to beg for attention. Logan’s himself, and Oscar’s himself, and together, they’re just them. Oscar doesn’t need much more than that. It’s easy even when he has to scour his own house like a maze in the middle of the night, because he wants to find Logan, and he knows Logan wants to be found.
Or maybe that’s a little much. Oscar is just new to this whole dating boys thing. Well, boy, singular. This whole dating Logan thing. He thought Logan was new to it too—dating boys—because that seemed like a reasonable conclusion to come to. But no. Turned out that Logan’s had more boyfriends than Oscar’s had girlfriends. Color him surprised.
“That tooth back there really does hurt though,” Logan suddenly says, and Oscar can’t help but to laugh.
“Told you I’d check it in the morning.”
“I know, just saying. Hey—I love you.”
Oscar laughs again, this one short-lived. “That was random.”
“Hey. Say it back.”
Well, God, Oscar was going to. What kind of a boyfriend does Logan take him for? “I love you too. More, even. More than all the stars in the galaxy.”
“You’re dumb.”
Oscar smiles, thumb rubbing over Logan’s finger, begging him, “Oh, please tell me you mean it.”
Logan scoffs but he’s smiling right along with him. “I mean it. All the way, one hundred percent.”
Oscar’s okay now with rolling over to face him, noses now almost touching, both smiles growing wider. He tightens his grip on Logan’s hand. “You’re one hundred percent annoying.”
He gives Oscar that disbelief-chuckle. “You one hundred percent love it.”
“Mmmmm. I, like, seventy-five percent do.”
Logan mirrors his hum, pushing his face closer to Oscar’s on the bed until their noses actually are touching, and all Oscar can hear is Logan’s slow, level breathing. “Gonna try to sleep the maybe-cavity pain off now.”
“Yeah? No cuddles?”
“You can flip me over when I fall asleep. I—” He’s cut off by a sudden yawn, eyes closing and those lines beside them crinkling up in the way Oscar adores. “I.. love you. Really do. And I’m really.. thankful in advance.. you’re gonna. Check my tooth out.”
Oscar pulls his hand away from Logan’s to pet his head and more easily lull him asleep, Logan’s eyelashes fluttering with his eyes shut. He smiles to himself, unable to look away to try and sleep with him; Logan is so pretty, too pretty. “I know, I know. Just sleep.”
He doesn’t need to be told, Oscar thinks, it seems he’s already there. Logan’s breathing has turned ever-slower, face muscles relaxed.
Cute. Oscar lifts his head just enough to kiss Logan’s nose, doesn’t let up on his petting, doesn’t flip Logan over either, actually. He just lets Logan lay there, and then maybe in the morning he will have somehow ended up in Oscar’s arms. He’s sneaky like that.
Snuck right onto Oscar in this past year like it was nothing, really. He thinks to himself that if the Oscar of last year could see the two of them laying together like this, he’d pass out just as he feels close to now.
He pats the back of Logan’s head. Just too-deep bullshit that doesn’t really matter, but here, he’ll press it right there into Logan’s hair, and maybe it’ll stick there. Or not. It’s whatever.