57

"I had a plan," mutters Jason some minutes later, after nobody has said a word for so long that Winston has shut his eyes to pretend he can hear the snow falling outside.

It feels like it, somehow. Like the snowflakes hitting the window are loud as meteors striking the earth, like the starts distantly twinkling are bright as the moon in the night sky, like the breaths puffing in his chest are lighter than existence itself.

Winston wonders, sometime, if this is just what joy is.

If it's just snowflakes drifting on the wind.

"Plan about what?" Winston asks, tilting his head. His gaze zero in on Jason's expression; his head is a bit ducked, he's biting his lower lip, and his eyelids are lowered as his fingers fiddle with themselves in his lap. He's squirming a little, too, growing smaller under Winston's attention and Winston--doesn't ever want that.

Jason is so big, so fearless, shines to easily. He's so full of joy, and Winston doesn't ever want that to fade. Doesn't ever want to be party to that fading.

Jason licks his lips, peeking up at Winston from below his eyelashes, and Winston's heart thumps loudly in his chest, a rhythm he doesn't know, can't recognize, a song that surely he must have known once but can no longer name.

"I--" Jason licks his lips again. He peeks at Ryder this time, and Winston does as well, but Ryder has swished out a book from somewhere and is studiously reading it, avidly pretending he can't hear them. Even though he peeks at Jason and discreetly nods. Winston's lips twitch but he manages to hide that he saw anything.

Jason exhales, straightening up and pushing out his chest as he inhales again. "How to say I love you. I had a plan," he says.

Winston's brain short-circuits for a moment.

Love.

Jason's eyes are painfully earent, his expression so open that Winston nearly wants to run away, his hands clenching on the couch's cushions, but his feet lock up at the thought of even running away from this. From Jason. At the thought of missing what he says.

Because what if he never says it again?

What if Winston's reflexes forces him to run, and Jason isn't here when he comes back?

What if Jason doesn't understand?

Winston presses his lips together, breathes out through his nose, and forces his hands to un-clench. He holds his breath in his lungs to the count of ten, then says on the exhalation; "Do you regret it?" and the words even sound sort of steady.

But Winston's lip trembles.

He breathes, and Jason reaches for him, grabbing Winston's sweaty hand and holding tight. "No," Jason declares, no room for debate. Winston's gaze flicks up to meet Jason's and he relaxes, muscles going soft and shoulders drawing down.

Jason's eyes are clear, gaze steady, and Winston will not argue with it.

"I don't, either," says Winston. He clasps onto Jason's hand with his other hand, so that Jason's hand is sandwiched between his two, and doesn't look away from Jason's eyes. There can be no doubt in this, no hesitation. "I love you," says Winston, and his voice doesn't even waver.

He doesn't waver, he thinks, like a revelation. Like that's something new.

He's not wavering.

Oh.

"It was going to be at a romantic restaurant," Jason suddenly rushes out, growing animated and verbose again, free hand waving in the air. "There would be flowers, and somebody would play the violin just for us, and there'd be so many candles lit it'd be a fire hazard."

"Sounds amazing," breathes Winston.

Jason grins, bashful, ducking his head a little. His gaze shoots to his brother again but Winston can't spare a second's attention to find out what for, his eyes glued to his boyfriend. Jason continues, "I was going to wear a suit, and---" Jason snaps his mouth shut, breathes out through his nose, and declares, "I love you."

Winston's lips twitch, his nose stinging, eyes blurring. He worries his lip, makes a half-hearted attempt to stop his expression from going out of line.

He doesn't keep it up.

Tipping forwards, he falls right into Jason's embrace and shuts his eyes. Jason's hands pull him in, keep him close, and Winston's own fingers entangle in Jason's clothing to ensure his place. He burrows himself in, creeps as close as possibly with cutting Jason's open and digging out his heart, and mutters, "The romantic candlelit dinner at a restaurant would have been perfect."

"But this is better," Winston says.

Jason's hug tightens, and Jason rest his head on Winston's. Smooths his hands over Winston's back, sparking fire in its wake. Winston shudders, breaths gaspy, and he only remembers that Ryder is still in the room with them when Jason's brother says, "Congratulations."

"Ryder," Jason drawls, chin on Winston's head. It sort of hurts, but Winston doesn't want to lose a single inch of contact with Jason right now, and so he could not care less.

Jason's brother sounds amused as he points out, "What? If you didn't want me to say anything, you shouldn't have done this with me in the room."

"Ry," this time Jason's voice is far more sulky in nature, and Winston laughs, which gets him a firm pat on his back. He sticks his tongue out in response, but this just means that he gets Jason's shirt in his mouth and apparently that's where his limit lies. Good to know.

Spitting it out, he pushes himself out of the embrace a little, just enough so that he's no longer eating Jason's clothing and so he can toss Ryder a look without craning his neck. "Don't tease," Winston's murmurs, and it's only Jason's tight grip that lets him say so.

Ryder's voice does soften a bit as he says, "I didn't intend, my apologies."

And yeah, Winston thinks, Ryder refined vibes just keep growing stronger.

Jason says, "Thanks," voice hitching in the middle, and clears his throat. He pats Winston's back again, continuing to smooth his hand up and down, and Winston pulls himself up a little more, sits up properly but still within Jason's embrace, Jason's movements echoing his so he's never truly restrained.

Winston softly presses his forehead to Jason, and Jason reciprocates, their breaths intermingling, Winston's heart thundering in his ears. In the background, he hears Ryder's chair squeaking as the older man rises and announces, "I'll take my leave for the moment, Jay. Good luck," and then Ryder walks out while Jason distractedly waves to him.

Winston bites his lip. When the sound of the door shutting reaches him, he lets go of Jason's clothes to instead curl his arms around Jason's neck. It brings their faces even closer, Winston tilting his head back to maintain eye-contact, and Jason's eyelashes flutter. Winston can see his own reflection in Jason's breathtaking eyes, and he folds without hesitation.

Leaning up, Winston softly presses his lips to Jason's, staying still for a moment until Jason reacts and effortlessly takes control. Winston sinks into it, allows it to consume, his every thought narrowing down to Jason and the sensations and he hums. Groans. Moans.

Shoves himself closer and closer, until it's impossible to tell where Jason begins and Winston and--Winston doesn't want it any other way.

He is happy, Winston thinks, half delirious simply on the realization, his fingers digging into Jason's shoulders, and his chest so tight and tiny and big and overwhelming it hurts. But--it's a kind pain.

He's happy.