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Next To Me

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Web felt his back pull entirly off the couch as his climax hit; his chest bumped against Joe's but they both ignored it. Joe continued his ministrations, chasing his own bliss as he worked Web past the edge and into a puddle of nerve endings. When he felt the familiar heat filling him, Web groaned and writhed, pulling his lover as close as physics would let him. Joe tried to pull away and he wasn't able to, but neither of them minded.

They shared languid kisses, all tired lips and tongues and hands not moving too much from where they were already. After a short while, when Joe was growing soft and uncomfortable, he pulled away and Web hummed in contentness at the warmth drooling on his thighs. 

"You're a mess," he pointed out, admiring Web's bitten lips and bruised arms and the slick on his stomach and on his thighs.

"I'm your mess," Web responded with a smirk.

Joe rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips before walking to their bathroom and returning with a wet rag in his hand. 


Something about the way that you walked into my living room
Casually and confident lookin' at the mess I am
But still you, still you want me

Joe grinned at him as he helped clean them both up. Gentle kisses were pressed to bruises and scratches and eventually the skinner of the two was hauling the other off the couch. Joe flicked off the T.V., Netflix had been forgotten about an hour before and their bowls from dinner had been left on the coffee table to deal with tomorrow.

Tonight they needed to rest. 

Stress lines and cigarettes, politics and deficits
Late bills and overages, screamin' and hollerin'
But still you, still you want me

Web thought about their fights as they laid in bed. The most recent was pretty major, he'd missed a utilities payment and they both said a few things that they didn't really mean in the heat of the argument. Web understood, though, he knew that Joe was just angry, even though the words cut like knives. 

That night, he found Joe sitting on their front stoop. A cigarette was dangling between the first and middle finger of his right hand, while his left hand rubbed over his face the way that he did when he was stressed out. 

They'd screamed themselves hoarse that day; they both knew that it was stupid before it even began. But they were both so damned stubborn

"Joe..?" He muttered, sitting down cautiously. 

"I'm sorry about saying what I did." Joe said as a form of greeting.

"You have every right to be mad."


"Shut up," Web cut him off, "I love you. Can we just put it in the past if I promise I won't forget about the water bills?" 

Joe's lips pulled into an exasperated smirk and he nodded resting his head on his boyfriend's shoudder and taking another drag from the cigarette.

"Don't forget about any of the other bills, either," he cracked and kissed Web's neck, "I love you too."

They held each other tightly that night. Joe made a joke about how wished he could pee but the water was shut off and therefore he couldn't use the toilet. Web huffed a laugh despite himself, pressing a kiss to the dark mop of hair that always fell onto Joe's forehead. 

There's something about the way that you always see the pretty view
Overlook the blooded mess, always lookin' effortless
And still you, still you want me

He thought, as Joe snored into his chest, about that time he fought the man in the bar who told Joe that he was beautiful. Only Web was allowed to call him that. 

He had always hated how possessive he got, but Joe seemed to love it, he seemed to crave it. That night when they got home he was sure that his partner would be mad, but a searing kiss proved him wrong. 

He was pressed harshly against the door when they got home and Joe kissed his bloody lip and loved him so passionately. It was almost as if Joe was spurred on by the violence, but neither of them mentioned it between the praises and beautiful and mine.

I got no innocence, faith ain't no privilege
I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts
And still you, still you want me

Web couldn't really pretend that he believed in any sort of religion anymore. Joe was his religion. After all the things they'd seen overseas, where was God to help them out? 

No, they only had each other. And every hot, desert night, Joe was the one protecting him. No one else. He was protecting Joe and that'sexactly where he fell in love. He fell in love so hard with the man in his stupid truck with that gun in his hand and the wild grin splitting on his face.

Oh, I always let you down
You're shattered on the ground
But still I find you there
Next to me
And oh, stupid things I do
I'm far from good, it's true
But still I find you
Next to me

He was so in love with Joe, who stuck bedside him even when he was wrong. With Joe who's bedhead was the reason he smiled before he even was fully awake. With Joe who always kissed him after they fought, and made sure he knew that he was still loved so much. With Joe, in all of his stupid and beautiful glory.

With Joe, who didn't need to know yet about the ring in the box that he kept in the pocket of a pair of jeans that didn't leave the closet. No, he didn't think Joe needed to know about that one just yet. 

So thank you for taking a chance on me
I know it isn't easy
But I hope to be worth it