Rome rakes his fingers through Pick’s hair, smiling. “P’Pick… has the alcohol hit you?” he asks, chuckling. The taller turns around and looks up at him, pouting—which is a rare sight to see, even for Rome. He smiled and poked Pick’s cheeks.
“‘don’t think so,” Pick answers quietly. Rome giggles and rolls his eyes.
“You sure? Because you certainly look like the complete opposite!” Rome replies, pinching both of Pick’s flushed cheeks. The latter furrows his brows and slaps Rome’s hands away.
“Ai’Rome,” Pick says as if warning the younger one. Rome smirks, wanting to now mess with his boyfriend.
“Yes?” he coos, smiling in which resulted in him getting flicked on the forehead by Pick.
“You’re teasing me again… I’m older than you—where’s the respect?” Pick asks, frowning.
“Respect? That left the moment you told me, “Er, I like you. I love you SO damn much,”–” Rome was cut off with Pick then pinching his nose, clearly embarrassed.
“God, Rome, th-that was years ago… will you never let it go!?” Pick asks, subconsciously jutting his lips out as he crossed his arms. Rome laughs and ruffles Pick’s hair.
“What are you saying? Years ago? It was only 2 and a half years ago, P’Pick!” Rome tells, smiling widely. Pick doesn’t respond anymore and Rome thinks he really did anger Pick but he doesn’t say anything; they both sit in silence, just staring at each other, and Rome is reminded, with the unsaid words coming from Pick’s eyes, that no, he didn’t anger his P’Pick, making him smile.
Suddenly, Pick says “I love you,” out of nowhere and Rome’s eyes widen as he feels himself heating up. He covers his face and looks away.
“Wh-What? P’Pick, do you hear yourself?”
Instead of replying, Pick wraps his arms around Rome’s neck and pulls his face down, their lips making contact in no time. Rome has always known Pick would be bolder when drunk but because of how he was acting earlier, Rome thought there would be none of that today… until now… but Rome isn’t complaining. He smiles into the kiss, even more, when he feels Pick’s hand go down from his neck to his waist.
But before Rome could fully respond back to the kiss, Pick pulls away, smiling slyly. “I said,” Pick starts, teasing Rome by brushing his lips on his. Yeah, Rome doesn’t know if he’s going to survive Pick being this bold!
“I love you, Rome.” Pick finishes his words, moving back and laughing lowly at Rome’s red-as-a-tomato face. Rome manages to force Pick to sit up so that he could shyly bury his face into Pick’s chest, letting out a string of whining.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying those three words…” Rome sighs, covering his face with both of his hands. Pick rolls his eyes.
“You haven’t said it back, though.”
Rome looks at him and, suddenly, he smirks. “Make me say it,” he whispers.