Winding Down

Meyer and Arnaud decided to stay and listen to the house band perform their set. It was mostly covers and jazz standards, really laid back kind of stuff. Meyer ordered a Cobb salad and Arnaud a grilled reuben. Meyer let Arnaud tell him all about the most current arc of Captain Cottontail. They talked about Clifton; Meyer opened up about how Cliff was the first "real" relationship he'd ever been in, how Cliff's outspokenness about their being nonbinary helped Meyer to discover that he was queer.

Arnaud shared that he was on his own journey of self-discovery. In high school he'd never really dated the same way lots of other kids did; he was more content to be alone with his books and his comics and his cartoons. This put him on the outs with a lot of the social groups and it led to a lot of bullying. Meyer, a sophomore when Arnaud was a freshman, was one of the first close friendships he'd formed, mostly because Meyer was always around to "protect" him, though he never really understood why. They shared a lot of classes together; Meyer was in AP everything, as was Arnaud, so their schedules ended up incidentally aligning. Whenever someone was around to pick on Arnaud, they found themselves overshadowed by one of the tallest kids in the school.

"I'd never admit it to anyone, Meyer, but back in high school I think I might have had a...I don't know if I'd call it a crush. More of a fascination, I guess. You were just so...brave."

"Wasn't bravery. It was more of, well. I know what it's like to be picked on." He laughed. "Imagine being six foot six -- not counting the ears! -- in 8th grade. I got called all kinds of names, lots of jokes about the weather, you name it. And it got so old. So I learned I could use my height to intimidate. And I don't like seeing other kids get picked on. So, y'know."

"Still. I always appreciated it."

"Well, you're welcome, I guess," Meyer said, forking a big hunk of salad into his mouth.

"Why did you lie about Clifton?" Arnaud asked, pointedly. Meyer choked and coughed, thumping his chest to finish swallowing.

"Technically I didn't lie, I just...didn't say anything."

"Well, if you two were close like that, I mean," Arnaud started.

The hare jumped in. "I didn't think of it as anything that serious, it was just...high school stuff. Obviously I read it all wrong, and I regret how it ended. But it did end."

He looked at the stage. Clifton was playing bass and singing, some song about lost love. Meyer wasn't really paying attention to the words, but the movements. The lemur was really into their performance, swaying and bobbing to the music, body completely in sync with their instrument.

"Sucks," Meyer sighed. "I feel bad about it now, for sure."

They finished their dinner and the band finished their set. Arnaud went to give Clifton a hug while Meyer settled their tab at the bar. The drive home was mostly quiet, the drone of talk radio obviating the need for conversation. The topic of the hour was land preservation along the Allegheny river.

When they got back to the apartment, Arnaud tossed his keys and his wallet in the dish; Meyer also did, which took Arnaud by surprise. "I thought that's where they go," Meyer said.

"I mean, you can keep your stuff in there if you want," Arnaud said. "Just didn't expect it is all."

"Good a place as any," Meyer replied.

"O-okay then."

Meyer grabbed his Nicout box and sat on the couch, turning it over in his hands a few times. He managed to get a claw through the sticky tape keeping it closed, then pulled out one of the foil blister packs of gum. They all clattered to the floor. "Shit," he said, picking them up in all their crinkly plasticness and shoving them back into the box.

Arnaud watched from the kitchen and said nothing. It was clear Meyer was having a moment with this and he didn't want to discourage by encouraging.

After getting everything sorted, he pushed a piece of gum through the foil and popped it in his mouth. He chomped into it to release the nicotine and immediately felt the tingling on his gums and tongue. "That's...whoa," he exclaimed quietly. "Hmm."

"How is it?" Arnaud asked.

"Tingly. But I still want a cigarette."

"I bet that'll pass in time."

"Hopefully," Meyer said, chewing. He looked at his watch. "Night's still young. You wanna watch a movie or something?"

oh god oh god oh god

The hare turned on the TV and switched the input over to Arnaud's streaming device. He started scrolling through the video library. "I mean, you have a lot of 'em. I don't even think I've seen half of these."

"Y-yeah. It's mostly anime and c-cartoons, you m-might not like any of it," Arnaud stuttered. He hooked a quick right into his bedroom and shut the door to change out of his day clothes into his night clothes. He shed everything, standing in the middle of his room in just his underwear and socks, staring at himself in the mirror, taking a moment to collect himself. He wasn't built like anything special and nobody was rushing to get him into a modeling contract; he looked like a 5'11" librarian might look like, though it certainly couldn't hurt if he got back into hiking. He grabbed his love handles and let them go. He patted his stomach a few times.

He reached in past the waistband of his underwear and adjusted his soft self downward, hoping that if something were to, uh, come up, that it would at least curve in an inconspicuous direction, though he knew that "inconspicuous" was the last word you'd use to describe it in that situation.

Except, now, he was overthinking it.

On the one hand, Arnaud knew next to nothing about Meyer except what he'd learned at a distance: he may not be very emotionally intelligent, he's probably very vulnerable right now, he's obviously had experience with this sort of thing before. On the other, tonight was basically a date, and they were back at his apartment alone...

there's a guy in my apartment what do i do what do i do do i wear something that sends a message what kind of message do i send is it a touch me message or a we're just friends message do i want to be touched am i in a touchy mood should i be in a touchy mood what if he touches me

No, Arnaud decided. Simple is best. No messages. He threw on a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy Book-IT! t-shirt, stripped his socks off, and headed back out to the living room.

Meyer had become distracted by his phone, legs taking up the entire davenport, idly scrolling his Instagram feed and chuckling at vertically-oriented videos instead. "Oh, you're back," he said, turning around. "I, uh, couldn't decide on anything."

It was more like Meyer'd changed out of most of his clothing, wearing nothing more than his blue t-shirt and the retro-pattern blue and orange boxer briefs Arnaud'd seen him in earlier. "I changed into something more comfortable. I, uh, don't have any house pants with me right now. I hope you don't mind."

"D-do you wanna borrow a pair of mine?" Arnaud said, blushing. Outside of this morning, this was the first time anyone other than him had been pantsless in his apartment and he was having a little trouble hiding the fact that this was both out of his depth and a little exciting.

"C'mon, Arnie, there's no way you have anything that would fit me," Meyer laughed. He was probably right; Meyer was at least one waist size down and obviously seven inches taller. "If you want I can put on some sweatpants or something, it's just...kinda warm in here, y'know?" Meyer said.

"N-no, it's f-fine," Arnaud continued to stutter, clearly flustered by this whole situation. Part of him twitched. "I just, it's uh, been a while, since I've had anyone over. Or, y'know. Ever," he admitted.

"Not used to company, I get it, I get it. Arnie, I don't bite," Meyer replied. He smiled. It didn't seem like a predatory smile or a sultry smile, just a warm one, which helped defuse the situation somewhat.

Arnaud decided to use this opportunity to see if this was just friendly or if this was about to get "friendly." He gently picked up Meyer's long legs and sat down underneath them, letting his friend's long feet rest on his thighs. Meyer didn't move them.

He picked up the remote from the side table and started scrolling through documentaries. "How about something low key? Something liiiiiike...this?" he said, settling on a documentary series about the open oceans. He queued it up before Meyer could object. There was no way this could lead to anything. It was, Arnaud thought, simply a chaste, beautiful 4K documentary about the ocean.

"Oh, man. I love this guy. His voice is so relaxing," Meyer said, still looking at his phone. He had slid down to lay his head on the armrest and held his phone over his face, clearly not paying attention to the television. Arnaud decided that was fine, that he didn't need any personal space. He took his own phone out and lowered the lights in his apartment a little bit, not exactly what someone would call "mood lighting," but just enough that there wasn't any glare on the TV.

The two of them settled into their television watching; Arnaud with his eyes glued to one of his favorite shows, also enjoying having literally any physical contact at all, especially since it was someone he'd had a crush on since they first met; and Meyer, who was paying absolutely no attention to anything going on that wasn't on the 6.9" screen on his phone.

"A-are you even listening?" Arnaud asked, having settled somewhat. This was just casual scantily-cladness between friends. Not a big deal. not a big deal not a big deal eyes on the television

"Yeah, man. Hammerhead sharks," Meyer replied, lifting his head up to look Arnaud in the eye. "They can't see in front of themselves." He rolled over a little, adjusting one of his legs such that his foot was directly pressing into Arnaud's crotch.

Arnaud's entire body stiffened like an over-starched shirt. "H-hey," he protested. Now it was his junk's turn to stiffen, both physically and visibly, shifting the lines of his shorts. It was, surprising no one, not curving inconspicuously. If he were capable, the color would have drained from his entire body.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, I'm so--Jesus," Meyer said, adjusting himself again, curling himself onto two of the three davenport cushions.

"J-Jesus what?" Arnaud pressed his hands down on his crotch.

It was Meyer's turn to blush. "N-nothing, nothing." He set his phone on the other side table. "I uh, just," he started.

"I'm getting kind of tired," Arnaud offered with no evidence. "I think I might go to bed."

"I mean..." Meyer replied, swallowing. "I'm not tired." He angled his head up to look at Arnaud, who locked eyes with him. The former shot a curious look at the latter, who looked mostly panicked. Meyer tried to press his luck, putting a foot back in Arnaud's lap.

It worked. Arnaud suddenly felt a lot of emotions all at the same time. A good chunk of them were panic, having never been in a situation like this before; his flight, fight, or freeze response was geared into full blown flight mode. But the thoughts that kept winning out were the ones that felt good. Like, real good. Like, oh my god is this what it's like when someone besides yourself touches you there good. His body found new and novel ways to betray him, filling out his shorts now to what could best be described as full-mast. He throbbed against Meyer's attention, eliciting a much more predatory smirk from the hare.

"Y-yeah, I g-guess I'm n-not t-t-tired either," the aardwolf offered. "Do you, um. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

shit shit shit shit shit why did i say that oh my god i'm such an idiot he's gonna say no you made it weird why did you have to make it weird

"S-Sure," Meyer replied.

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