Work Text:
AJ had a list, AJ liked lists.
Lists were orderly. Predictable. Lists didn't suddenly develop feelings and ruin somebody's life.
This particular list was titled:
REASONS I AM ASEXUAL
There were twenty-nine bullet points.
Twenty-nine.
Not twenty-seven.
Not thirty.
Twenty-nine.
He had spent three hours refining them.
1. I have never actively pursued a relationship.
2. The idea of sex makes me anxious.
3. I don't think about sex often.
4. Relationships seem complicated.
5. I don't want to hurt anybody.
The fifth point was underlined three times.
AJ stared at it. Then stared harder.
Then wrote a sixth point:
6. If I cared about someone romantically, I could accidentally hurt them.
He sat back. There.
Evidence.
Proof.
Logic.
A neat little pile of certainty. His phone buzzed.
A message.
From the same person who had somehow become the reason he kept buying two coffees instead of one.
The same person he definitely did not think about constantly. The same person he absolutely did not have feelings for.
The same person whose favourite tea he knew. Whose favourite book he knew. Whose birthday he knew. Whose allergies he knew. Whose smile had somehow become lodged permanently in his memory.
The notification simply read:
"Hope your meeting went okay ❤️"
AJ's stomach immediately dropped through the floor. Panic. Not butterflies. Definitely not butterflies. Butterflies were romantic.
This was terror. Completely different.
He opened the list again.
7. Romantic feelings should not resemble impending doom.
That seemed reasonable. He added it.
Across the room, Sam looked up from his laptop, "what are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"That was a suspiciously fast answer."
"I'm making a list."
Sam groaned.
"Oh no."
"It's a perfectly normal list."
"Oh no."
AJ frowned.
"Why do people keep reacting like that?"
Sam pointed accusingly.
"Because every time you make a list you're one step away from a breakdown."
"I am not."
"You alphabetised our spices because you were stressed."
"They were out of order."
"You don't cook."
AJ paused, that was not relevant.
Sam squinted.
"What list?"
AJ hesitated.
Then handed over the notebook. Sam read silently.
His eyebrows climbed higher and higher, eventually they disappeared entirely.
Sam looked at AJ. Looked at the notebook. Looked back at AJ.
"AJ."
"What?"
"You bought me soup."
AJ blinked.
"People buy soup."
"You drove forty minutes."
"People drive."
"You remembered my dentist appointment."
"People remember things."
"You stayed awake until three in the morning because I was upset."
AJ's face went hot, Sam closed the notebook. Very gently, Like he was handling a bomb of emotional distress.
"AJ."
"What?"
"Have you considered that maybe you're not asexual?"
AJ felt his heart immediately attempt escape.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if I loved someone—"
Sam groaned.
"There it is."
"If I loved someone," AJ continued stubbornly, "I could hurt them."
"You could also hurt a friend."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"It just is."
Sam rubbed both hands over his face, "y'know what I think?"
AJ already hated this.
"I think you're terrified."
"I'm not terrified."
"You look terrified."
"I always look terrified."
"Fair."
AJ folded his arms, Sam sighed.
Then spoke carefully, "AJ, you've somehow convinced yourself that caring about somebody is dangerous."
AJ stared at the floor, because Sam wasn't entirely wrong. The terrifying thing was that it wasn't entirely right either.
And uncertainty was always the worst part. The possibility. The maybe. The what if. What if he wasn't asexual? What if he was? What if he fell in love? What if he hurt someone? What if he didn't?
What if—
Sam threw a cushion at his head, AJ yelped.
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"The spiral."
AJ opened his mouth. Closed it again. Sam pointed at him.
"You're not dangerous."
The words landed awkwardly. Like they didn't fit. Like they belonged to somebody else.
Sam softened, "AJ."
"What?"
"You're one of the gentlest people I know."
AJ looked away.
Because the obsessions in his brain were already preparing a rebuttal.
But for once it took a little longer than usual, AJ knew Sam loved him.
That wasn't the problem, the problem was that Sam was wrong. Or at least that was what AJ's brain insisted. Because Sam looked at him and saw someone kind.
Someone gentle.
Someone dependable.
Someone safe.
And AJ spent every waking moment wondering if one day Sam would discover the truth.
The horrible truth.
The thing AJ couldn't even define.
The thing OCD kept insisting existed.
The thing waiting around the corner.
The thing that would eventually hurt Sam.
"What are you thinking about?"
AJ nearly jumped out of his skin, Sam was sprawled across the sofa beside him.
Warm. Comfortable. Existing.
AJ hated how much he loved that.
"Nothing."
Sam snorted.
"You have your Nothing Face."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
AJ looked away.
Sam shifted closer.
Not touching. Never forcing.
Just close. Always close.
Like AJ was a nervous animal he didn't want to scare, which somehow made everything worse. Because kind people were easier to hurt.
"What if," AJ said suddenly, "you woke up one day and realised I wasn't who you thought I was?"
Sam blinked.
"What?"
"What if you were wrong about me?"
Sam considered this, and just shrugged.
"I've seen you cry over injured pigeons, especially when it spooked me and made me jump."
AJ groaned.
"That isn't evidence."
"You apologised to a chair."
"I walked into it."
"You apologised twice."
AJ buried his face in his hands, Sam grinned.
"My point stands."
The smile faded when AJ didn't laugh, because AJ wasn't joking.
He rarely was. Not about this.
Sam sat up.
"What is it?"
AJ stared at the carpet.
Because saying it out loud made it real. And real things could hurt people.
Eventually he whispered, "What if I hurt you?"
The room went quiet, Sam didn't answer immediately. Which was worse.
Because silence gave OCD room to work.
See?
See?
He's thinking about it. He's realised. He's finally realised.
Then Sam spoke, "AJ."
AJ's stomach twisted, "What?"
"You'd rather set yourself on fire than upset me."
That wasn't the point, that wasn't the point at all. People hurt each other accidentally every day.
Good people. Kind people. People who never meant to.
"That's not how it works."
"Then explain it."
AJ couldn't. Not properly.
How was he supposed to explain a fear that had no shape? No evidence. No logic.
Just certainty. Certainty that one day Sam would regret loving him.
Sam watched him struggle, then quietly asked, "do you actually want me to leave?"
AJ looked up immediately. Horrified.
"No."
The answer came too fast. Too sharp. Too honest.
Sam's expression softened, "right."
AJ felt trapped. Because Sam sounded so sure. And certainty was dangerous. Certainty meant there was something to lose.
"I just—"
AJ stopped.
The words felt ridiculous. Childish. Embarrassing. But they escaped anyway.
"I don't want to break you."
For a second Sam just stared. Then he laughed. Not mockingly. Not cruelly. Just genuinely. Warmly. Confused.
"AJ."
"What?"
"I'm not made of glass."
AJ's eyes burned, because that wasn't what OCD said.
OCD said everyone was made of glass, especially people you loved.
Especially Sam. Sam reached over, very carefully. Giving AJ every chance to move away, and then just rested his hand over AJ's.
"I know you're scared."
AJ swallowed.
"Yeah."
"I know your brain tells you all sorts of nonsense."
AJ huffed a weak laugh.
"Yeah.
AJ noticed the flannel immediately, of course he did.
Sam's flannels were impossible to miss. The one draped over the chair in the living room. The one hanging over the back of the sofa. The one permanently abandoned in Sam's car three years ago. This one sat folded neatly on the bedside table.
Not touching the bed. Never touching the bed.
Sam knew better. AJ stared at it suspiciously.
It was red.
Of course it was red. There was a sticky note resting on top.
AJ's stomach immediately tightened.
The note read:
Found this while doing laundry. Thought it might be yours. If not, feel free to throw it at me. -Sam
AJ looked at the flannel. Looked at the note. Looked at the flannel again.
It was absolutely Sam's. They both knew it was Sam's. The man had owned it for years.
AJ picked up the note. Read it again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. Because there was something infuriatingly kind about it.
Sam hadn't said:
We need to talk.
Sam hadn't said:
Are you okay?
Sam hadn't said:
Why are you avoiding me?
He had simply created a reason.
A small one. A harmless one. A bridge. AJ could walk across it. Or not. His choice.
The note crinkled in his hand, twenty minutes later he found Sam in the kitchen.
Sam was making tea. Naturally, as one does. The man was physically incapable of existing without his tea.
AJ placed the flannel on the counter. Sam glanced at it.
"Oh."
AJ folded his arms.
"This is yours."
Sam nodded.
"Probably."
"You knew it was yours."
"Probably."
AJ narrowed his eyes, Sam continued making tea.
The picture of innocence. The worst kind of innocence. The deliberate kind.
"You left it in my room."
"Did I?"
"Sam."
"Hm?"
"You left it in my room."
Sam stirred the tea, thought about it, then finally smiled. A tiny smile. Barely there.
"Well."
AJ waited, Sam shrugged.
"I was running out of reasons for you to talk to me."
The words landed softly. No accusation. No guilt. No pressure. Just honesty.
AJ looked down at the flannel. Then back at Sam. Then back at the flannel.
His chest hurt. Not the bad kind. The other kind. The dangerous kind. The joke wasn't even particularly funny.
Sam had nudged Sam. Sam had nearly dropped his tea. Everyone had laughed. Including AJ.
For a moment. Just a moment. Then the thought arrived.
Sudden. Sharp. Wrong. What if I touched him?
AJ's stomach dropped. He replayed the moment. Sam nudging Sam. Sam leaning slightly. AJ sitting nearby.
What if their sleeves brushed? What if he touched Sam without noticing? What if there was something on his hands? What if—
AJ stood so quickly his chair nearly tipped.
"Bathroom."
Nobody questioned it. Nobody ever questioned it. AJ was grateful for that.
He hurried down the hallway. Heart hammering. The bathroom door clicked shut.
The tap turned on. Soap. Scrub. Rinse. Again. Soap. Scrub. Rinse. Again.
The water was almost painfully hot. Good. Good was painful. Pain meant certainty. Certainty meant safety. His skin was pink by the time he stopped.
Not enough. One more time. Just to be sure. By the time AJ returned to the kitchen, Sam was alone.
The others had drifted elsewhere. Tea steamed quietly between his hands. AJ froze, making Sam glance up.
Sam smiles, which quickly drops, "AJ, your hands are really red."
Gentle. Dangerous. Because AJ loved that smile far too much.
"Everything okay?"
AJ immediately nodded.
"Fine."
"Good."
Sam took another sip of tea. Nothing else. No interrogation. No questions. No lasting suspicion. AJ hated how relieved that made him feel.
Because it meant Sam hadn't noticed. Obviously.
Why would he? Why would anyone?
The next morning AJ woke early, the house was still quiet as he shuffled into the kitchen.
Sam was already there. Naturally. Tea again. Naturally.
Sam slid a mug toward him. AJ accepted it. Careful not to touch his hand. Always careful. Sam watched him over the rim of his cup.
Then said casually, "you know."
AJ immediately tensed, "what?"
"You're allowed to sit back down after a joke."
AJ froze, Sam didn't look at him.
Didn't make a big deal of it. Didn't sound angry. Just... Matter-of-fact.
AJ's throat tightened, "what?"
Sam stirred his tea, "you always leave."
The spoon clicked softly against the mug.
"Something funny happens."
Click.
"You laugh."
Click.
"Then you disappear."
Click.
"Then you come back."
AJ stared at him, Sam finally looked up.
Not accusing. Not judgmental. Just sad.
And somehow that was worse, because sad meant he'd noticed. All this time. Every trip. Every excuse. Every frantic sprint to the bathroom.
Sam had noticed. AJ's hands started shaking. Immediately. Sam noticed that too.
Of course he did.
"You don't have to tell me why."
AJ looked away, because if he looked directly at Sam, he might cry.
AJ had rehearsed it twelve times.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Not that he was counting. He was absolutely counting. The sentence wasn't complicated. Normal people could probably say it without experiencing cardiac arrest.
AJ, unfortunately, was not normal. Sam sat beside him on the sofa.
Reading. Existing. Breathing. Being Sam. Which was somehow enough to make AJ's brain malfunction.
He could do this. Just ask. One sentence. One tiny sentence.
"Sam?"
Sam looked up immediately.
"Hm?"
AJ's throat closed, and just like that, the sentence vanished.
Gone. Completely gone. He swallowed and tried again.
"Can I..."
Sam waited patiently. Always patient. Always making it worse.
"Can I..."
AJ's ears burned. His heart was trying to escape through his ribs, Sam lowered his book. Concern replacing curiosity.
"AJ?"
The concern did it. The concern always did it. Because concern meant attention. Attention meant pressure. Pressure meant mistakes. And mistakes meant—
"I need the bathroom."
AJ stood so quickly he nearly tripped over the coffee table. ow
Then fled. Actually fled. Half-running down the hallway. The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.
AJ gripped the sink. Stared at himself.
Then immediately grabbed his toothbrush. Because obviously. Obviously.
His mouth felt wrong. His teeth felt wrong. His tongue felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
Toothpaste. Brush. Again. Brush harder. Again.
The mint burned. Good. Burning was certainty. Certainty was easier than uncertainty. And uncertainty was currently trying to kill him.
Because what if Sam had said yes? What if Sam had said no? What if Sam had looked uncomfortable? What if Sam had only agreed because he felt bad? What if—
A knock interrupted the spiral.
AJ froze.
"AJ?"
Sam. Of course. AJ closed his eyes.
"Yeah?"
A pause, then, "did your mouth suddenly become dirty?"
AJ nearly dropped the toothbrush. Silence. Utter silence.
Sam continued through the door, "because that seems to happen whenever you get nervous."
AJ wanted the floor to open. Immediately. Preferably right now. Another pause.
Then, softer, "you don't have to answer."
The bathroom fell quiet. AJ stared at the sink. At the toothbrush. At his reflection. At the complete disaster of a human being staring back.
Then, "what if you say no?"
The words came out small. Embarrassingly small. The kind of small that only happened when he was scared.
Silence. Not bad silence. Thinking silence.
Then, "what if I don't?"
AJ's breath caught, outside the door he could hear Sam shifting his weight. AJ had spent twenty-three minutes trying to ask.
Not continuously. That would be ridiculous. The attempts were separated by: staring at the floor, staring at the ceiling, staring at Sam, immediately looking away from Sam, contemplating exile.
Y'know, the usual.
Sam was pretending to read. Pretending. Because every few minutes AJ would make a strange noise. Not a word. Just a noise. A noise produced by a man trying to force a sentence through six layers of OCD.
Eventually, "Sam?"
Sam looked up.
"Hm?"
AJ froze. Again. Sam waited. Again. AJ's face went red. Again. Sam slowly closed his book. Again. The silence stretched. AJ looked increasingly distressed. Sam watched him for a moment. Then another. Then another. And suddenly understood. Not the OCD. Not all of it. Just this part.
AJ wasn't afraid of being kissed. AJ wasn't even afraid of Sam. AJ was terrified of asking. Terrified of wanting. Terrified of needing. Terrified of being vulnerable enough to request affection.
The realization made Sam's chest ache because AJ looked genuinely miserable. Over a kiss. Over him. Poor thing. Sam set the book aside.
"AJ?"
"What?"
The answer came immediately, the fastest response of the evening. Sam smiled. A little.
"Can I kiss you?"
AJ's brain stopped. Entirely. Gone. No thoughts. No spirals. No compulsions. Nothing.
Just Sam sitting there looking mildly amused. Waiting.
AJ blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The universe attempted a reboot.
"You..."
Sam nodded.
"Me."
"You asked—"
"Yes."
AJ stared. Sam stared back. Patiently. Comfortably. Like this was the most normal thing in the world, which somehow made AJ want to cry. Because it should have been. For everybody else it probably was. But Sam had just quietly lifted the heaviest part of it off his shoulders.
No performance. No bravery. No impossible leap. Just a simple question. Asked by someone who already knew the answer.
AJ swallowed. Hard. Then nodded. Very small. Very quick. Like he was afraid the motion might break if he did it too enthusiastically. Sam's smile softened immediately.
There you are. There was the answer. Not hidden behind panic. Not buried under rituals. Not trapped beneath endless what-ifs.
Just AJ. And for once. That was enough.
"Okay," Sam said gently, holding his hand out.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing overwhelming. Just an open hand, an invitation if you will.
AJ stared at it. For a moment, his brain tried to start another spiral. What if—
No. Not now. Not with Sam looking at him like that. Patient. Warm. Certain.
AJ placed his hand in Sam's. Sam's fingers curled around his carefully. Giving him plenty of time to pull away, and yet AJ didn't.
The tiny smile Sam gave him felt almost unfair, like he'd already known. Like he'd been waiting.
Slowly, Sam tugged him closer. Not much. Just enough. Just enough for AJ to feel his heart attempting to launch itself into orbit. Sam stopped there.
Close enough that AJ could see the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Close enough that he could hear Sam breathe. Close enough that he could still change his mind.
"You okay?" Sam asked softly.
AJ nodded. Then shook his head. Then nodded again.
Sam laughed. A quiet laugh. Fond. The kind that never made AJ feel foolish. The kind that made him feel seen.
Sam brushed his thumb over AJ's knuckles. Then leaned forward.
Gentle. Careful. Like AJ was something precious. The kiss was brief. Soft. The sort of thing that should have been terrifying. Instead, AJ's mind went unexpectedly quiet. Not silent. Just... quieter.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there wasn't a list. There wasn't a ritual. There wasn't a catastrophe waiting around the corner. There was only Sam. When Sam pulled back, AJ found himself blinking. As though he'd surfaced from underwater. Sam looked amused.
"What?"
AJ's face immediately went red, "you stopped?"
Sam's eyebrows lifted, "I did."
AJ looked away. Mortified. Then muttered, "I didn't want you to."
The silence that followed lasted approximately two seconds. Then Sam's expression softened into something so warm AJ nearly melted on the spot.
"There you are," Sam said.
And somehow that felt even better than the kiss, like it was no big deal; like AJ wasn't shaking. Like AJ hadn't spent the last half hour fighting himself. Like none of it changed how he felt. And somehow that was the thing that made AJ relax first. Waiting. Not pushing. Just waiting. The way he always did.
AJ looked at the toothbrush one last time, then set it down. For once. He didn't brush again.
And that felt far more terrifying than asking for the kissing would make everything worse.
"You just don't have to do it alone."
The words landed like a punch. Not because they were cruel. But, because they weren't. Because they were kind. And kindness was always the thing AJ had the hardest time surviving. he kind OCD hated. Because the dangerous thing wasn't that Sam was kind. The dangerous thing was that AJ loved him for it.
And somehow Sam kept finding ways to stay anyway, "and I know you don't believe me."
AJ nodded, Sam squeezed his hand.
"But I'm staying anyway."
AJ stared at their hands, at the impossible warmth of them. At the impossible reality of them. And for one tiny moment. Just one. The fear was quieter than the love.