(no subject)

[crownless]

[It's never anything drastically important, or anything terribly "serious", as much as he'd hate to use a loaded term like that. They're friends in the same business, is all, and they've at least got an understanding there. If he gets bored, he rings Wade, and they go out and do... something. Anything. Killing time between jobs (that they've made very sure to not have intersect again, thanks very much) and blowing off steam together quickly becomes their routine as the time goes and goes.

Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.

Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".

And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.

Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]

Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?

Comments

1/2

[crownless]

[A second chance? Hell no, Travis almost exclaims; having said 'no' to her was a relief for him, too, and he can't handle a second go. Does that make everything Wade did useless? Does it make this whole night useless? He feels like he's wasted his time, and Wade's time, and hates that he'd gone along with it. Because of course it'd turn to this in the end. Of course.

Travis doesn't have any answers. He doesn't have a name for whatever this has become-- because they have really, really, really fucked up the friends-with-benefits thing-- and he's not entirely sure he wants it all to... go somewhere, or whatever you would say about it. He doesn't plan ahead nearly enough to know any of those things, and in this moment, he doesn't care in the slightest.

All Travis wants right now is Wade.

One hand curls around Wade's forearm, and the other slides to the back of his neck, palm brushing the skin of Wade's cheek as it goes. Raising himself up on the balls of his feet (four inches shouldn't be this much trouble) and gently tipping Wade's head downward, Travis kisses him on the lips: slowly, tenderly, like it's been years since the last time and he's savoring it. Wade still tastes like whiskey. Travis can't find it in him to care.

Fuck.

He's got it bad for this guy, doesn't he.]