Chapter Text
“This week is going to be epic.”
Lucas huffs from the doorway, he can’t help the tiny smile that takes over his features as Basile rants off excitedly about how many girls he’s going to pull during their stay – not many, if you ask Lucas. Normal Basile can’t function around girls on a good day, now throw in the language barrier and the lack of alcohol: yeah, Basile isn’t getting any this week.
Probably ever. Lucas can relate.
Still, he hears Arthur indulging him as he enters the apartment with Yann, both struggling to get their suitcases through the threshold. He lets out a particularly unattractive snort when one of the straps on Yann’s backpack gets tangled with the doorknob, raising one eyebrow at his best friend’s attempt at keeping cool.
“What, you don’t think it’s going to be the most epic week?” Eliott gasps into his ear, wide eyes looking at Lucas with mock outrage. “Ever?”
Ah, here he is. The reason why he’s going to die a virgin.
Lucas rolls his eyes.
“Ask me again when I’m not running on 4 hours of sleep.”
Eliott clicks his tongue, shaking his head at Lucas. He throws his arm around Lucas’ shoulders as they both stand in the narrow hallway, watching amusedly as their friends check out every little detail in the living room. The sun is setting already, if the lack of sunshine coming from the windows is anything to go by, and it suddenly dawns to Lucas that they’ve been traveling for more than half a day.
No wonder he’s so exhausted. (Or at least that’s the excuse he uses as he inches up closer to Eliott, letting his head fall against his friend’s shoulder)
(But when Eliott lets out a soft sigh at their sides pressing against each other, Lucas thinks he might not need an excuse for cuddling up to Eliott, after all.)
“So, were you guys planning on standing there all day or…?” Yann cocks an eyebrow at them, more than used to his friends’ weird antics. That seems to spurt Eliott into action who, still with his arm around Lucas, lifts his discarded bag on the floor and drags Lucas into the living room. Lucas yelps, managing to get a hold of his own suitcase in one clumsy movement before Eliott closes the door behind them.
“Dude.” He complains. “A little warning next time would be nice.”
Eliott merely shrugs, giving Lucas a toothy grin.
And Lucas’ sleep deprived brain wants to kiss the fuck out of that beautiful smile right then and there, the three pair of eyes looking at them be damned. He’s so tired, and he wants nothing more but to move closer to Eliott’s face, grab him by the neck and smash their faces together - his well-rested brain wants the same things, albeit with less intensity.
He doesn’t kiss him though; ignores the tingly sensation of his lips as he covers Eliott’s face with his hand and pushes him away instead, Eliott’s beautiful laugh imprinting itself against his open palm.
“Can you get your hand away from my face now, please?” Comes Eliott’s muffled voice, making Lucas snort at how ridiculous he sounds.
“No.”
Eliott gives him a challenging look, one Lucas is so used to that he knows what’s about to happen before Eliott even opens his mouth.
Soon enough, Lucas feels the wet brushing sensation of Eliott’s tongue drawing a sloppy line from his wrist up to his fingers, and he would find it so fucking disgusting if it weren’t for how endearing Eliott looks right now – mischievousness dancing in his eyes as he hides a self-satisfied smile behind Lucas’ hand.
“Still no.” Lucas laughs, pressing his hand harder against Eliott’s face and smearing the spit all over Eliott’s cheeks before the taller boy moves away, cackling and cleaning his face on Lucas’ covered shoulder.
“You two are absolutely disgusting.” Yann says in a flat voice, giving them a disapproving look. Lucas straightens his back, feels Eliott do the same, as they both try to contain their giggles at Yann’s face. He notes Basile and Arthur arguing in the background, probably over who does the dishes tonight, also lost in their own world.
This week is going to be great.
“Care to look at the sleeping arrangements now?” Yann says again. “The page said we would get 3 twin beds and a sofa-bed. I’m guessing that’s the sofa-bed?”
Yann points at the couch against the wall opposite of them. It looks fluffy enough, washed in a baby blue color and with enough cushions to make another makeshift-bed on the floor if need be. Lucas has never seen a sofa-bed in his life before, but he guesses there’s some sort of mechanism that will make it look more bed-like, because right now it just looks like-
Well.
A normal couch.
“I guess. Unless there’s another sofa under the sink.”
“Ha ha” Yann laughs in a deadpan tone. “Let’s go look at the bedroom.”
They follow Yann into the bedroom, Basile and Arthur trailing right behind them, still bickering about God knows what. Lucas is too tired to ask – as soon as they sort the beds arrangement he’s sleeping until tomorrow; dinner can wait until breakfast.
“Oh.” Eliott’s awed voice break Lucas’ train of thought, making him aware of his surroundings. “It’s beautiful.”
And it is.
It’s not like they came here not knowing what they had paid for, they’d obviously checked the apartment pictures before deciding on it – it’s just that, with these kind of companies, they usually put up one standard apartment that looks more or less the same like the rest of them, and when you get there you don’t know whether you’ll get the one with the futuristic kitchen or the one with the washing machine next to the shower.
Needless to say, Lucas is impressed. From what he’s seen, the rest of the apartment looks good enough – modern furniture, white cupboards and black dining chairs, and everything looks clean – but the bedroom is something else. Two beds take up most of the space, dressed in baby blue blankets too, matching the colors in the walls, and there’s a third built in bed under a big window that shows the heart of Oslo.
It kind of reminds Lucas of the bedroom from the second Peter Pan movie, the one Wendy’s daughter uses. He finds it inexplicably comforting.
“Whoa.” Basile breathes next to him, impressed.
“Yeah.” Arthur agrees. “Far more than what I expected.”
And Lucas, because he’s Lucas (and did you really expect anything else?) moves even closer to Eliott, close enough to let his breath hit Eliott’s cheek when he stands on his tippy toes for a second before whispering:
“Bet you 10 bucks Basile will somehow manage to fall off that window in the middle of the night if he gets the bed.”
Eliott can only laugh loudly, making the rest of his friends jump, and shoves Lucas playfully before grabbing a fist of his t-shirt, pulling him back against his side.
“So how are we doing this?” Yann asks from the window, hands on both sides of his hips. He looks so much like his mother in that position Lucas almost wants to call him out on it. “You guys said you were fine with sharing the sofa-bed, right?”
Lucas can’t help but puff his chest at that, pride taking over his body as he nods at Yann with a confident move of his head. Stupid crushes and sexual frustration aside, Lucas knows his and Eliott’s relationship is something special.
Yann might be his best friend since they wore diapers, but Eliott – he met Eliott less than two years ago, at a stupid birthday party; a birthday party he wasn’t even invited to, of all things, he’d just been in the right place at the right time (the right place being his friend Imane’s house and the right time her brother’s birthday).
Lucas wanted a glass of water, and Eliott wanted to feel useful. (And he will deny it to this day, because he didn’t ask the beautiful, smiling boy to grab a glass of water from the tallest cupboard just to get a glance of his toned back when his shirt would inevitably rid up. No sir)
It’d all gone down from there and, three months later, Lucas felt as though they’d known each other forever. They went from Lucas and Eliott to LucasAndEliott in record time, partners in crime with little understanding of personal space. Lucas basked in Eliott’s affection; lived for their film nights and breathed for the way Eliott would, more often than not, doze off on his shoulder after a long day.
Yann, being the literal angel that he is, never commented on anything; never demanded answers, or got jealous at the prospect of being replaced – he understood. He could never be the one Lucas would jump in the arms of after getting accepted into the latter’s dream college. He understood it was different.
Most weekend nights would end with either Eliott or Lucas staying at the other’s house, both too knackered from the mandatory party of the week to undress themselves or even properly tuck themselves in bed. It only made sense they would share the bed here, too – Lucas would’ve found a way to sneak into Eliott’s if the apartment had come with the right amount of single beds, anyway.
“We are.” Eliott beams.
Lucas beams back.
“Cool.” Yann nods back. “That leaves just the three of us- No, Bas! Get off the window, for fuck’s sake!”
Lucas turns to Eliott, giving him a pointed look that screams I told you so! Eliott just laughs quietly and ruffles his hair, lets his arm fall swiftly over Lucas’ back, curling it around his neck again.
They stay like that for a few moments, silently watching the chaos unfold in the room; pillows being thrown and Arthur crowning himself the king of the fairytale bed – because that’s what they’re calling the window bed now, apparently – rises up yet another argument, and Basile’s scream of Fuck you I do what I want is what makes Lucas finally turn his head, laughing, just to find Eliott looking back at him.
“Do you see now how this is going to be the most epic week ever?”
He does.
***
So going to bed without having dinner was a lie.
In Lucas’ defense – and he’ll defend himself, alright – he doesn’t have friends; he has mothers. That’s pretty self-explanatory in itself, but in case anyone was wondering about the details, it just happened that he was forced to sit in the dining table with the rest of the guys and eat at least one graham cracker, because no one can be so tired they can’t get even a biscuit in their mouth, Lucas.
Yeah well, who’s the pre-med student here, Eliott? It’s totally possible.
You’re so full of shit, Eliott retorted before shoving the graham cracker into his mouth.
And that was the end of that.
(It wasn’t. There was a moment where everyone was screaming nonsense – that’s what exhaustion does to someone – and Lucas didn’t understand shit, but he did understand when he got threatened with a lapful of Eliott if he so much dared rise his bum a millimeter from his seat. He felt more than tempted to do exactly that, just to get Eliott to sit on his lap, but he was so sleepy he didn’t trust himself not to have an indecent reaction.)
(So Eliott stayed in his seat and Lucas was forced to have dinner. It felt like a loss all around.)
After kicking the rest of the boys out of the living room – because no matter where the TV is placed, Basile, this is still where Eliott and I have to sleep – Lucas finally, finally, lets himself relax.
He falls onto the couch on his back, letting out a small oof and spreading his arms up like a starfish. The velvety fabric feels good against his hands as he moves them up and down, closing his eyes and relaxing further into the couch.
Which is, exactly, the moment his peace is broken.
“Get up from there, hot stuff.” Eliott says from somewhere above him, and Lucas feels a socked foot nudging his shin. “We have to make the bed.”
Lucas just groans, hides his smile against the cushion when Eliott lets out a long sigh. He groans again when Eliott grabs him by the wrists and hoists him up against his own will. Lucas struggles against the hold, letting his head loll forward and smushing his face against Eliott.
“Leave me alone.” He whines into Eliott’s chest, getting his hands out of his friend’s secure grip to wrap his arms around his waist tightly. “I’m tired.”
“Which is why we have to dress this sofa-bed.” Eliott tries to reason with him. When the only answer from Lucas he receives is another halfhearted whine he chuckles, wrapping his own arms around Lucas’ neck and swaying them back and forth, chin resting on top of Lucas’ head. “We have to, c’mon.”
“I don’t want to.”
And Eliott must take pity in how defeated he sounds, because the next thing he says, he says it with a voice so soft and warm it’s enough to set Lucas’ insides on fire.
“I know, but we really, really have to do this now, Lu.” He whispers into his hair, gently lifting him up enough that his bum leaves the couch. “It’ll only take 2 minutes, promise.”
“I hate you.” Lucas states when his feet touch the ground, ignoring the wobble of his legs and frowning at Eliott. Eliott only laughs, which makes Lucas frown harder. “You think I’m joking? I’m not.”
“You hate me?”
Lucas hmms as he takes the sheets and blankets from inside the drawer under the couch, unfolding them and passing one of them to Eliott.
“Guess I’ll just sleep on the bathtub, then?” Eliott says as he tucks the last blanket into the feet of the couch – that finally looks like a bed now. Lucas was right, you did have to pull something to make it a bed. “It’s not ideal, I’ll admit – but I’m sure my skin will get used to the cold.”
“No.” Lucas shuffles his feet a bit, moving until Eliott is at arm’s length and then, before Eliott has a chance to react, he buries his faces in Eliott’s chest again. “I guess you can stay…”
“Yeah?”
Lucas nods, sleepily, and tightens his arms around Eliott when he feels a butterfly kiss being pressed to his hair.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go to bed, okay? Let me change into my pajamas real quick.”
Lucas, being the responsible person he is, has been wearing his since they first got here, after getting bored of Arthur and Basile’s ongoing discussion of who would get the window bed. Some people (see: Mika) would say he’s only fast at doing tasks that revolve around sleep and playing videogames. Lucas begs to differ.
He’s also fast at masking his face into one of nonchalance whenever Eliott strips in front of him, while his inner gay is having a wild party inside his head – which is exactly what’s happening right now.
Lucas sits in bed in a daze, blatantly staring. He traces Eliott’s back muscles with hungry eyes, suddenly not tired at all, and wills his heart to calm down.
This is not the first time he’s seen Eliott naked – far from it. God, so far from it. Summers with Eliott are hell, with his friend being so adamant in walking around with only his swimsuit on – but seeing him like this, with a magical pinkish barely white light (and it has Lucas intrigued, how it’s almost midnight and the sun hasn’t fully set yet) drawing patterns on his skin; the sounds of the Oslo traffic filtering through the open window to their right.
It’s doing things to Lucas’ heart.
“Like what you see?”
“Uh?”
“Nevermind.” Eliott shakes his head at Lucas’ hazed eyes, smirking to himself. Sometimes Lucas feels like Eliott knows something he doesn’t. Once he’s changed into a plain white shirt – no pajama pants, because they’re uncomfortable – he sits next to Lucas, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to sleep like that?”
“Like what?” Lucas answers back defensively, giving himself a once-over. “I’m wearing my pajamas?”
“But they’re like… long-sleeved.”
“Well, we’re in Norway, aren’t we?”
“We’re also in the middle of summer, Lu. You’re gonna run hot.”
“I won’t.”
“There’s at least 3 blankets and me.” Eliott says the last part as if he’s part of the couch bedding which – all things considered, he might as well be. “You’re gonna run hot.”
“Okay, whatever.” Lucas gives in, because Eliott does have a point, and he’s starting to feel the sweat clinging to the small of his back already. He misses the way Eliott’s eyes follow his arms’ movements as he tosses his Spiderman pajamas over his head. In another swift movement, he pulls his pajama pants off and kicks them to the floor. “I feel extremely underdressed now.”
“What do you mean?” Eliott cocks his head to one side like a very confused dog.
Lucas gives him an incredulous look as he gestures to his naked chest and legs, registering a beat too late the smirk hidden behind Eliott’s eyes. He shoves the taller boy, hard, watching him tumble and fall on his back on the couch.
Serves him right.
“I take it back, you can go to sleep on the bathroom. Have fun with the cockroaches.”
“Fuck, you think there’s cockroaches?”
Lucas takes a second to answer.
“Nah, I don’t think so.” He sees Eliott sigh with relief. “Why, are you scared of them? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, scary bugs.”
Eliott pulls on Lucas’ arm equally as hard. Lucas lets out a surprised squeak as his head collides with Eliott’s shoulder, the sudden movement making his head spin a bit.
“I hate you so much.”
“Shut up, I think you gave me a concussion.”
“You shut up, you dramatic little-“
“Will you two shut the fuck up with the weird ass foreplay already?! Oh my fucking God.” Someone screams from the other room – probably Yann -, startling Lucas and Eliott.
Their mouths snap shut instantly, and they look at each other with big, surprised eyes before bursting into laughter.
“Shh” Eliott complains, still laughing, the hypocrite, and places his hand on Lucas’ mouth, trying to muffle their laugher. They try to stifle their giggles into each other’s hands, rolling around the couch like two little kids.
“Okay.” Lucas heaves a breath, but a few treacherous giggles escape his lips, making Eliott snort again. “Shh. Okay. Okay.”
“Okay.” Eliott repeats, indulging him, a bright smile on his face.
“Okay. Get in bed, you nightmare.”
“Party’s over?” Eliott asks with a slight pout.
Good lord, his patience is being thoroughly tested today.
“Party’s over.” Lucas confirms, already making himself a human burrito beneath the blankets, hands itching to wrap themselves around Eliott’s middle already. The inches of separation between their bodies right now are too many inches away; inches Lucas is dying to get rid of. “Party will be here tomorrow again. Now come here, I’m freezing.”
Which is not technically a lie. The breeze coming from the open window had certainty risen chills on his arms a few moments ago, but he’d been too entranced in Eliott to even care.
Eliott complies easily, looking almost as eager as Lucas feels, and wraps Lucas up in a hug. Hands settling on his bare shoulder blades and legs entangling together beneath the mess of sheets, Lucas feels the day’s wariness leave his body.
He concentrates on Eliott’s fingers drawing circles on his neck, shuffles closer to him – so close there’s not an inch of Lucas that’s not Eliott and vice versa; the kind of close Lucas adores, when you can’t tell when one ends and the other begins – before pressing a kiss to Eliott’s cheek.
Eliott smiles down at him, steady hands now running slow laps on his back. Lucas sneaks one hand under Eliott’s t-shirt, the other trapped between his cheek and the pillow.
“To warm it up.” Lucas explains when he starts running his hand up and down Eliott’s back. Eliott only smiles wider, eyes shining in the dark.
“Of course.” He whispers back, playing along. It’s moment like this one, when Lucas starts second-guessing everything. Every little touch – that looks so casual to the public eye, but Lucas doesn’t miss the way Eliott sometimes sighs with relief when Lucas doesn’t shy away -, every lingering gaze and every maybe not so platonic compliment.
It makes him wonder, if there’s a universe where Eliott could remotely feel a little of what Lucas feels right in the middle of his chest, and, if by some luck, that universe is this one. Lucas wonders, and wonders, if this is the universe where he gets to be happy with the boy he loves.
“This couch is surprisingly comfortable.” Eliott breaks the silence, eyes still set on Lucas’ face.
“It is.” Lucas hums. He feels his eyes droop despite his determination to stay awake for this moment. No matter how hard he tries, Eliott’s hands soothing his skin lulls him to sleep.
As if sensing his inner turmoil, Eliott cups his head and tucks it under his chin tenderly.
“It’s okay, Lucas. Go to sleep.” Eliott murmurs on his hair.
“Okay.” Lucas murmurs back, but he doesn’t think he said it too well, because Eliott starts laughing fondly then. He debates with himself before dropping a kiss on his shoulder.
“Okay.” Eliott concludes, and Lucas thinks he can hear the smile in his voice. It only makes Lucas press his own smile on the side of Eliott’s neck. “Sleep well, baby.”
And Lucas is too tired to react to that, but as Eliott leaves one last kiss on his hair, he faintly thinks he’s going to talk to Eliott soon.
He can only hope this is the universe where Lucas gets lucky.
***