47

Jason walks out of the tiny, narrow bathroom, hair wet and still dripping, ratty towel around his neck and upper body bare. Winston, in the midst of a truly riveting conversation with Gary on the phone, twitches. He lowers the phone slightly and peeks over it, eyes wide, and on the screen Gary makes curious noises and stretches out his neck like he can look behind the phone if he only tries hard enough.

As it's merely a face-call, it's not really working out.

Gary sighs, sinking into his chair like a lump of boneless worms. Winston shushes him, eyes still on Jason as the man progresses through Winston's apartment.

It's tiny, so it takes approximately two seconds for him to cross the room and drop down onto the couch beside Winston. The towel swishes in the air when he does this, revealing more of his skin, and Winston's eyes shoot straight for it. He licks his lips.

Gary laughs at him. "Oh my god, is Jason there right now? Are you guys canoodling?" and he even wiggles his eyebrows, smirking his ass off, and Winston rolls his eyes, disconnecting the call without a second's hesitation.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Are we canoodling?" he asks, spreading out on the couch with an arm on the backrest and his bare feet on the coffee table.

"Obviously," Winston replies.

Jason smiles. "We should canoodle more often then. I quite like it," and Winston hides behind his phone for a second before he lowers it again and smiles, somewhat deviously.

He says, "I like it, too."

Jason blushes. It spreads over his sin like paint, more and more area gradually reddening in color and Winston tracks it's progress, fascinated. He puts his phone on the table and unfolds his body, stretching out his legs over the edge and scooting closer to Jason.

Side-by-side, their arms softly brush.

Jason turns to face him. Slowly grabs Winston's hand, entangling their fingers, and turns their hands around so Winston's on top. Tilting his head to side, Winston then watches as Jason holds the hand up to his lips, leaning down over Winston and pressing his lips to the back of Winston's hand.

It tingles. Where Jason's lips touch scorches, Winston's breath catching in his throat, and his wide eyes stares at Jason.

Jason, meanwhile, looks up at him and smiles while still kissing Winston's hand.

Winston bites his bottom lip.

Jason's smile grows, and he retreats just enough from Winston's hand to say, "I've always wanted to do that."

"Kiss my hand?" Winston's eyebrows furrow.

Jason's laugh is quiet, and it seems to echo in Winston's ears. He gulps, staring at Jason's glittering eyes, the lights from the billboards outside coloring half the back of his head in neon. It reflects off the strands, and his hair shines like a halo.

Winston is--enchanted.

He licks his lips, and Jason's eyes catch the motion. He can see his own reflection in Jason's eyes [what color are they?!] and he licks his lips once more simply to watch the way those captivating eyes darken, the way the eyelids lower, grow hooded as Jason exhales a rather too careful manner.

His stomach clenches. He flicks his gaze away, unable to handle the intensity any more. Looks down at their joined hands again, and as if in revenge, Jason once more presses his lips to Winston's hand. The tingles get worse.

Winston can barely breathe.

Jason presses another gentle kiss, holding on to Winston's hand with both hands. Straightening up, then, he says, "Yeah. You have beautiful hands."

"Hands can be beautiful?"

"Everything can be beautiful."

"...Even worms?"

Jason puffs on a laugh. "Yeah. Even worms are beautiful. And you---you are the greatest of them all. I just... really adore you, you know. And I want to show you that. I want you to know that."

Winston presses his lips together. He's not really sure what his expression wants to do, what his heart wants to do, but he's warm, and comfy, and he doesn't want to hide from the words. Rather, he wants to keep listening.

And so he does.

Jason massages Winston's hand as he continues, "You're amazing, you know. Like, my heart does fucking flip-flops in my chest sometimes, and you're not even doing anything special. Like, even when you're just sitting somewhere, watching your phone, and then you smile and oh my fucking god I swear my heart stops."

"Stop," Winston breathes.

Jason does, staring at him. Wide-eyed as well, they both must surely look like utter fools. But Winston can't bring himself to care about any of that; doesn't have the slightest bit of attention to spare.

"No, don't-" Winston purses his lips. "Don't stop," he corrects himself. "I merely, I just, you're saying, like I can't-"

"It's alright," says Jason, smiling and tilting his head. He leans forward, and Winston meets him, rests their foreheads together. He inhales through his nose, holds it in his lungs, forces it down into his stomach and then exhales in one great big breath.

"Okay," whispers Winston. He breathes, again, and the tension in his muscles slowly recedes, becomes manageable. Shutting his eyes for a second, he opens them again to Jason's gaze squarely on him, and he wets his chapped lips.

Jason smiles at him. Winston's heart flip-flops, and he smiles in return on reflex. Jason's smile gets brighter in turn, and then, of course, Winston's smile has to grow in response. It's only natural; when Jason is happy it's contagious and Winston is only a mere mortal, just as vulnerable to contagions as any other man.

"I think you're beautiful," says Jason, voice hushed. "And you're amazing, and I want to spend entirely too much time with." He laughs, "And I'm sad to say that I've talked about you a lot at practice and my teammates kind of, sort of, hate you a little."

"Hate?"

Jason scratches his nose. "I've been told I don't shut up about you, and it's embarrassing to listen to, and quite frankly it's, quote, 'none of their mission so just shut up already Jay' unquote."

Winston snorts. "Really?"

"Really."

Winston snorts again. It turns into a laugh halfway through and he separates their foreheads to properly be able to laugh without bothering Jason. Jason, however, does not look very bothered when Winston calms down and looks back at him; Jason's expression is still soft, open, everything laid bare and Winston gulps as tension reasserts itself in his bones.

He moves, scooting around until his back is square with the backrest and he can sink into it without any trouble. For all the couch's faults—it's old, it vaguely smells, there are suspicious stains on the cushions—it is very soft and accepts his weight without any trouble.

Enveloped in a cocoon of warmth with Jason hot and scorching by his side, Winston tilts his head back, resting it on the cushion, and stares up at the ceiling. A billboard add is vaguely reflected in it, and he can almost, if he squints and tilts his head even more, make out what the large text says, distorted though it is.

"You're beautiful," Jason repeats, and Winston's chest stops moving for a long minute.

Finally, he unfreezes and squeezes Jason's hand, turning his head to look at him again. "Kiss me?" rasps Winston, unable to think of anything meaningful to say but wanting to get closer all the same. He wants to drown in Jason, wants to burrow beneath his skin and dig himself a home in his chest.

"Yeah," says Jason, moving and putting a hand on Winston's nape, holding on with the softest pressure, and Winston is so very aware of every inch of skin touching, so very aware of how close Jason is, how he's getting closer, how—

Jason presses their lips together.

Winston's next breath is a painful inhalation through his nose, stinging his nostrils, and he grabs onto Jason's shoulder with his free hand, fingers digging in so deep it must surely be painful. It is, at first, just a gentle press of their lips, nothing scandalous, then Jason tilts Winston's head slightly and the angle is so much better.

Sinking into the kiss, Winston bites and sucks on Jason's lower lip, pulling it between his teeth and then letting go to allow the kiss to soften again. It's entirely too much for his heart but honestly---let it combust. It's worth it.

Winston makes a strange noise—entirely understandable, he thinks. Then he doesn't think anything at all, his entire being focused on his sense of touch, as he opens his mouth more and their tongues touch, slowly, oh so slowly.