[ Nate was surviving when they met, but he wasn't really living. Toying with a life fraught with substance abuse, with self-destruction that chipped away at him slowly, day by day, year by year. By the time Ian called him a pretty boy piece of shit Nate had been doing this for over half a decade, dragging his walking corpse through the hours.
What they ended up having brought something else out: the potential for the future, not just the now. No reason to drown himself in alcohol, a warm hand waiting to take his and pull him to bed. Home.
I really, really like being around you, too.
Nate's fingers trail up the length of Ian's spine, one palm cupping the back of his skull as he idly plays with the curls there. ]
And this might sound a little uncouth, [ Nate adds quietly, huffing against Ian's ear. ] But you look so good today it's driving me nuts.
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What they ended up having brought something else out: the potential for the future, not just the now. No reason to drown himself in alcohol, a warm hand waiting to take his and pull him to bed. Home.
I really, really like being around you, too.
Nate's fingers trail up the length of Ian's spine, one palm cupping the back of his skull as he idly plays with the curls there. ]
And this might sound a little uncouth, [ Nate adds quietly, huffing against Ian's ear. ] But you look so good today it's driving me nuts.