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here’s to never growing up

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Stephen hates kids.

They’re too loud, too annoying, they scream too much and they won’t stop crying for no reason. Too many run ins with the demons violating him for being ginger had caused him to swear off them forever.

Yet here he is. In his house, alone, with a child. A loud and annoying one at that.

(He realises the implications of that statement but he’s not a nonce, he promises, no matter what everyone says.)

The dreaded word.

Babysitting.

Naturally his first course of action was to desperately ring each and every person he knew and pray for some sort of God to come through and save him. Just because this spawn of satan was his niece didn’t mean he was dealing with her alone.

Which is ultimately what results in the predicament he’s currently faced with. Will’s sat on the floor of his living room, sleep-riddled and soft, laughing at the 3 year old drawing on his arms, and it looks like he belongs there. Carefree. A staple in Stephen’s life. The scene has his heart doing something funny and there’s an overwhelming sense of fondness in his gut that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

“That’s Stephen.” Nancy states proudly, pointing at a blob on Will’s left arm. Stephen has to announce his presence at that, joining the two of them on the floor so he can investigate the work of art. Upon closer inspection it’s a pink circle with two even bigger circles attached to it (“He’s got big ears.”) and a bright orange carpet on top of that, (“He’s ginger.”) along with three rainbows. She doesn’t explain that one, and Stephen will not allow a 3 year old to dictate his sexuality when he’s not even aware of it himself.

“Looks just like him it does Nance.” Will tells her, eyes twinkling, and there’s a grin on his face as he turns his focus to Stephen.

The scene is so domestic he can’t even bring himself to bite back to that one.

“This is my house, you can’t gang up on me here.” He scoffs instead.

“Yes we can.” Nancy chastises him. He doesn’t argue.

-

Sleeping Beauty plays in the background, and apparently the kids been watching Zoella a lot recently because Stephen’s forced to let her use his face as a canvas. There’s pink glitter on his eyelids, and pink blush on his cheekbones, and pink smeared across his lips. He doesn’t object when there’s a glittery tiara placed on his head either.

“Now you’re a princess.” She tells him solemnly, clearly content with her latest masterpiece. “Will can be your prince.”

He’s been more than aware of Will watching him through the whole time she’s been at it, and he’s glad the makeup on his cheeks hides his blush. Of course a 3 year old is more aware of his feelings for his best mate than he is.

“Guess I’ll have to give him a kiss to wake him up later.” Will jokes, except when he meets Stephen’s eyes there’s something else there.

His eyes linger, and Stephen can feel the shift in the room as he fails to break their stare. There’s something different between them. Something new that settles in the cracks of his heart and fills him with an unidentifiable warmth. Will’s eyes hold intrigue, but there’s a challenge there, and it makes Stephen’s stomach do that weird thing that it’s been doing a lot around him lately.

He really hopes he isn’t joking.

Nancy tires of her beauty guru adventures pretty quickly, leaving Stephen alone in favour of glueing her eyes to the TV, and he slinks off to remove the sticky pink stuff from his face. When the glitter’s off his eyes, and the majority of the pink stain on his cheeks has faded, he moves onto his lips.

Only there’s a presence behind him, and suddenly Will’s there, thumb swiping across Stephen’s bottom lip to clean up the mess. It leaves a flurry of tingles in its path, the sudden shock of his warm hands moulding a line of heat across his face.

“Leave it on.” He murmurs, voice low and fingers gripping Stephen’s jaw, and Stephen’s heart is racing. “Pink looks good on you.”

And then he’s gone.

Stephen doesn’t move for a while, trying desperately to make sense of what just happened. The ghost of calloused fingers on his jaw haunts him beautifully, and his heart refuses to return to the default setting.

Standing there alone, with his mind a mess and the desperate urge to snog the life out of his best friend only getting worse by the minute, he comes to the conclusion that he’s well and truly fucked.

(“Maybe later.” a voice in his head supplies. He groans in defeat.)

-

Nancy demands something to eat at approximately 12 o clock.

Stephen knows that she’ll refuse anything remotely healthy with her parents not around, and so after a war of words which of course she had ultimately won, he sets about spreading honey on a slice of toast for her.

Will’s there too, after a cup of tea, and the two of them move around each other in a practised harmony.

There’s something awfully domestic about it, and it only makes the warmth that’s been present in Stephen’s chest the whole day worse.

When he steps away from the toaster to grab a knife, Will’s staring at him again over the top of his mug, and once again he fails to stop himself from blushing pathetically. God, he feels 13 years old again. Except probably a bit hornier.

Will crowds into his personal space then, pressing him back against the counter, and Stephen’s mind kicks into overdrive. He can’t tear his eyes away from the other boys lips and he’s well aware that Will can probably hear the way his breathing speeds up by about tenfold.

It takes him an audible swallow and a lot of self control to move his eyes back up to meet Will’s. He’s gazing at him, searching his face for something and Stephen can’t help but squirm under his gaze.

The corners of his mouth lift up in a knowing smirk, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes that Stephen has to force himself not to groan at. Will presses forward as if to connect their lips, and Stephen is more than prepared to beg for it. For anything he’ll give him.

Will grins again and slides out of the room.

Stephen lets his head thunk back against the cupboard behind him and forces himself to calm his racing heart. He’s never wanted anything this bad.

-

After a messy but ultimately successful dinner, which had begun with Will’s hands at his hips and a mouth pressed against his neck, and had ended with Stephen flushed and panting and sporting a semi, Nancy makes them curl up with her on the sofa for a showing of Tangled.

Even with her squashed in between them Stephen is still hyperaware of Will’s every movement and the body heat he’s emanating.

The younger boy seems invested in the film, paying attention to Nancy’s running commentary and adding his own input, leaving her giggling. Stephen’s content to instead focus all of his attention on Will, admiring how the light from the television bathes his face in an angelic glow in the otherwise dark room.

“You guys look at each other like Eugene looks at Rapunzel.” Nancy pipes up all of a sudden, and Stephen doesn’t even have time to divert his gaze before Will’s eyes have snapped to his. For a moment he feels as if time is frozen in the softness of his gaze, and then.

“Yeah.” Will murmurs in response. “That’s how you look at someone you’re in love with.”

Stephen can’t breathe.

Will’s still staring at him, and there’s promise in his eyes, a whisper of what’s to come. The warmth in his chest is impossible to deny.

Stephen’s in love.

-

Nancy’s asleep by the time the credits roll round, and okay listen Stephen’s extremely impressed with himself for carrying her up the stairs and into bed without any accidents at all.

With a sigh of relief he clicks the door shut behind him, turning to Will, only his words end up dying in his throat because the sinful look the boy is fixing him with is one he’s never had the blessing of witnessing before. He knows this boy, knows him like the back of his hand, but he’s only ever dreamed of being looked at by him the way he’s looking at him right now.

Will walks him backwards, hands sliding down the other boy’s forearms, and Stephen feels giddy with the knowledge of what he’s been waiting for all day. He doesn’t allow their eye contact to break, revelling in the electricity crackling around them, thinking that if this was a movie there’d be some damn climatic music right about now.

Will’s smirking as he angles his head forward, and then they’re breathing into each other’s open mouths, and Stephen can’t help the whine that leaves his throat, although he can’t quite bring himself to care. Not right now, not when the tension between them is too intense for him to handle. He lets his eyes fall shut, and the first press of lips is enough to take his breath away.

Will kisses differently to how he’d imagined, how he’d visualised all those times when it was late at night and he’d let his mind wander, sticky and ashamed with his best mates name on his lips. He’d imagine them falling together in a passionate frenzy, sudden and fierce and demanding, pushing and pulling when everything between them had become too much.

Only now he’s kissing Stephen deep and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world, sliding his hands up to curl around Stephen’s jaw. His knees are weak and he has to clutch Will’s shirt in both hands in order to ground himself, fingers clenching desperately. Will smiles into the kiss at that, and somehow it’s impossible for Stephen to help the ridiculous grin in response, and it’s kinda difficult to carry on kissing someone when you’re both smiling like lovesick fools. God, this really is a cheesy rom-com. He hates them both.

Will disconnects their lips to look at him, to really look at him, eyes flitting around as if to memorise the blissful expression he knows is reflected in every part of him. He doesn’t go far, close enough so that Stephen can still feel his warm breath fanning over his face, can still feel his thumb sliding gently over his jaw, and he feels on top of the world. Like he can take on anything with this boy by his side.

It’s that thought which has his him taking Will’s hand and kicking the bedroom door open behind them, leading him over the threshold. He knows that Will is aware of his intentions and he’s more than ready to act on them.

There’s deliberate heat between them when Will drags him back in, his tongue sliding into his mouth to curl around his, and every part of him is on fire. His cock is straining for attention and there’s no way Will can’t feel it with the lack of space between their bodies.
Shaky fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, toying with the material, and Will huffs against his lips before dragging it over his head, allowing the boy’s own shirt to follow suit.

Then there’s skin on skin, and fingernails digging into the dips of his spine, and somehow they’re pressed even closer. Before Stephen even has time to comprehend what’s happening, Will has him pressed back into the mattress, the line of heat where their bodies meet leaving him reeling. He can feel Will against him, can feel every part of his body, and even with the material of their jeans in the way the press of their hips is enough to have him gasping out.

Will’s fumbling for something in the drawer beside him, and Stephen’s so focused on the feel of him it takes him a moment too long to understand what it is he’s looking for.

“2nd drawer.” He manages to gasp out against his lips, too far gone to even entertain the thought about breaking their kiss. He can hear the desperation in the movement of Will’s fingertips and it’s a grounding motion, a reminder that he needs this just as much as Stephen does, that he’s not the only one begging to be touched.

All Stephen can do is take and take as Will worships his mouth with his tongue, lying there pliant as the other boy manages to get them both out of their jeans, and then his boxers are slid down past his legs and-

“Fuck!” The slick slide of skin on skin is good, it’s so good, and it’s only the beginning - he knows this is going to be over far quicker than he’d like. Yet it’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough.

“Do something.” He near enough whines, needing more, more than he’s giving him, except all Will does is huff out a laugh against his lips.

“So needy.” Will tsks. It’s more of a rumble in his chest, voice husky with lust, and he moves to nip at his earlobe as his hips move in slow circles but it’s not what Stephen needs, it’s not what he’s craving, it’s not-

Will slides two fingers in and Stephen’s brain turns to static once again. Will’s got nice hands, his brain reminds him. He’d noticed the length of his fingers before, once when they’d been fucking around and he’d ended up with a hand wrapped around his throat. He’d been forced to desperately try and will down the sudden boner and he hadn’t been able to look Will in the eyes properly for weeks.

But they’re here now, with said fingers sliding in and out of him, and all Stephen can do is try not to scream as the pads of his fingertips hit that spot inside of him each time. He’s embarrassingly close to coming but he can’t yet, not when he hasn’t even had the chance to feel him inside of him.

“Fuck me.” He breathes out, Will’s hand stuttering in its movement, a groaned curse falling from his lips.

“Yeah.” He promises, breathless. “Yeah.” - and the brief moment after feels like the longest of Stephen’s life. He’s left empty, clenching around nothing, and he needs the boy inside of him so bad he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Will maintains eye contact as he presses in steadily, manhandling the smaller boy’s body to contort him in the right way, and then he’s all the way in and Stephen’s breath is knocked out of him in a drawn-out moan.

All he can do is moan brokenly as Will rocks into him, slowly at first but so so deep, deeper than anyone’s ever been, and fuck Stephen’s never felt anything like this before. He feels so full, the slow burn stretching him in the best way, each thrust of his hips forcing out a shuddering moan into the thick tension-filled air that’s enveloped them.

He’s a fucking mess, babbling nonsense, repeated little “uh’s” and whispered moans of “oh fuck, I’m gonna come... Will!” and Will’s snapping his hips faster, pounding into him, and it’s so good he can’t do anything but let himself be fucked into the mattress, the sound of Will groaning into his ear the hottest thing he’s ever heard. He’s on fire, and his stomach’s tightening familiarly, and the dirty look in Will’s eye as he grins wolfishly at him and goes the deepest he’s gone all night is enough to throw him over the edge.

He can feel it in every part of him as he comes undone, waves of white hot pleasure flooding over him, short circuiting his brain.

Will’s hips stutter against his once, twice, and then he’s coming too, groaning into Stephen’s ear, thick ropes of warm come filling him up in the dirtiest way.

Stephen’s still gasping as he comes down from his high, the aftershocks leaving his body trembling, and it takes him so long to gain control of himself again he barely registers Will pulling out and cleaning him up, collapsing behind him.

When he comes to, his eyes flutter open to find Will gazing at him with the softest eyes, although when their eyes meet a smirk takes over his face, the smug bastard.

“Fuck off.” Stephen mumbles, but his breath catches, and Will just laughs fondly. Then he’s leaning over him, kissing him sweetly, and Stephen feels the warmth in every part of him as their lips continue to press softly.

When they pull away Will presses up close behind him and slides his hands over his waist, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. Stephen goes to sleep the happiest he’s ever been.

-

“You slept in the same bed.” Nancy quizzes them over breakfast, a bowl of soggy cocoa pops, her eyes skeptical. Will nods his affirmation.

“Are you Stephen’s boyfriend?” She’s looking between them curiously, and even though he was balls deep in him last night the voiced confirmation of what exists between them still makes Stephen flush.

“Yeah,” Will smiles at him over her head, and the look in his eyes is so warm it takes his breath away.

She considers the possibility for a moment and then shrugs and goes back to her drawing.

“Cool.”

And that’s that.

Maybe Stephen doesn’t hate kids that much anymore.