It’s late, very late, almost too late to function, but not quite. Eli has been at Joss’s house since 10 am, when they’d gone to the bowling alley, and then Burgerville, and then back to Joss’s house to watch movies on his home theatre and throw popcorn at each other. It has been the perfect Saturday, and it isn’t over yet. Joss is nowhere close to winding down, even as Eli makes a nest out of pillows and slumps onto his side.

“Bruh! Come out of your hidey-hole and sit on the couch! I swear, it’s the comfiest couch in the entire fucking universe!”

Eli winces at his volume. “Are you drunk?”

Joss throws his arms over his head, and stretches wildly. “Do you see a single alcoholic beverage anywhere? No, you don’t! Why? Because neither of us has been drinking because you don’t drink and you’ve gone and turned me into a fucking goody-two-shoes!”

Eli shrugs, sloppily. “I’m sorry that you now make good life choices.”

“That’s the salt I’ve been wanting to see! Jesus, pretty boy, do I have to keep you up past your bedtime before you release that fast tongue?” He pats the couch cushion to his right. “Get that ‘good life choices’ stick out of your ass and then get that ass up here on the world’s best couch!”

Eli obliges, slowly. The couch sucks up his butt and grips his thighs like it’s never going to let go.

“Oh. I like this couch.”

“See!” Joss practically screeches. He unpauses the movie and settles into his spot.

A half hour later, Eli breaks out of his movie-watching trance as he feels Joss’s head land on his shoulder. Joss keeps on looking at the screen, and hitches his blanket up his chest. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, his breathing audible over the soft music of the movie.

Eli turns his attention back to the TV, but he still remains intensely aware of Joss’s cheek pressed into his shoulder.

God, I hope I don’t smell. He thinks. I really, really hope I don’t gross him out. Why is he doing this? It’s so hard to control myself.

He keeps his hands in his lap, determined to not make any moves.

Joss rubs his head on Eli’s shoulder. And then he does it again.

Eli is functioning in slow motion, zoom vision, all his sight on Joss’s closed eyes and soft-looking lips and strong chin on his shoulder.

Joss rubs his cheek up and down again, and flickers his eyes open. He looks up, right at Eli, and glances down to Eli’s mouth.

Up, and down again. He puts one hand on the couch cushion between them, and pushes himself up just an inch, holding Eli’s eyes the entire way.

Their lips meet, and it’s like a collision on a highway, the smoke and the pressure and the speed at which it happens overwhelming him completely. He’s sitting up in a second, and falling back the next, Joss on top of him as they tumble off of the couch, lips crashing together again and again in fast, messy kisses.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest with the force of his feelings. Everything burns white hot and electric, from his fingers to his mouth.

Eli can’t keep his hands off of Joss, so he stops trying. Joss sucks on his lower lip as he runs his hands over Joss’s chest, his shoulders, his waist. He’s so muscular, so firm under Eli’s hands. He’s never been more sure of his sexuality.

Joss shoves one hand under the hem of Eli’s shirt, and he gasps.

“Easy there, pretty boy.” Joss mumbles against his mouth, breath mingling freely between them.

Eli can’t go easy, can’t stop, or it will kill him. The feeling of Joss’s hands against his skin is more than he can handle and not enough at once. He runs his fingers into Joss’s hair, pulling out the hairband.

“Ow.” Joss complains, but he doesn’t say much else beside sharp intakes of air. Eli feels Joss’s tongue in his mouth, and his brain cuts out.

Joss’s shirt is on the floor, and Eli’s shirt surely has a rip judging by the strength Joss used in removing it from his body. His hands are everywhere at once, and Eli can’t get enough. Joss’s mouth travels from his lips down, kissing his neck and throat and collarbone. Eli grabs Joss’s hips and pulls him closer, closer, never close enough. Eli’s hands skim over his hip bones, and the edge of his jeans, and Joss pulls them together, and then just as quickly lets go.

Eli blinks blearily. “What is it?” His brain clicks back in, and he loosens his hold on Joss, but just a little. He doesn’t want him to run away again.

“Just…” Joss seems to be at a loss for words.

“Are you okay with this? With kissing?” Eli asks, his expression concerned.

Joss’s face seems to clear, his eyes meeting Eli’s for the first time.

“Yes.” He says. He sits up, and Eli follows suit, keeping Joss on his lap.

The TV blares, surprising them both. Joss lets out a nervous laugh, -did he just giggle?- and grabs the remote, pressing the pause button.

He turns back towards Eli, looking him up and down and up again, his hands tracing the planes of Eli’s chest with care, like fine china he’s afraid to break.

“Eliseo. You’re beautiful.”

Eli can feel his heart mend fully, the pieces clicking together for what feels like the first time in months. He gives Joss a quick kiss, and leans back again. “I like you a lot, Jocelyn Andrew Hall.”

Joss grimaces. “God, don’t call me that! You killed the mood!”

“You’re still sitting in my lap.” Eli notes.

“So I am. And you’re still talking when you should be kissing me.” He presses his lips softly to Eli’s, much slower than before. Eli slows down, content with anything, as long as Joss doesn’t run. Eli wraps his arms around Joss’s waist and hugs him as they kiss. He smiles gently, a slow, spreading thing, and strokes up Joss’s spine, hands and lips and hips tingling with joy.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.