A Touch of Cinnamon

by Disdaidal

Summary:

Gallatin and Cahir have been living together for over a year now. Having feelings for each other but not knowing how to tell it to each other. Then one evening, something unexpected happens... Will it finally change things between them?

Notes:

Hi, this is my first contribution to the Gallahir ship. I started writing this fic somewhere around July/August, and it started out as a simple idea and somehow blew into... well, a lot of words. *nervous laugh* I am pretty excited about this story and I hope you will be, too.

This fic was slightly inspired by OneofWeb's Buttercup Tattoo series where Gallatin is a tattoo artist and Cahir is a student; a series I absolutely fell in love with it. If you already haven't read it, please give it a go and show the author some love. ♥

I am also terrible at naming fics or writing summaries, but oh well. Without further ado, let's go~

Chapter 1

 

Gallatin sighed as he dug out the keys and closed down the tattoo parlor for the day. Walking towards his black pickup truck, he was ready to head home. He was trying his best to forget his latest client, who had given him trouble before he finally managed to kick him out and call the cops.

He turned the key in the ignition and patted the steering wheel impatiently, anxious to go home. His left ear throbbed and felt sore. He had literally had to wrestle the guy after he had shown up drunk for his appointment and refused to leave the shop without a fight. He folded down the visor and checked his ear in the mirror. It looked pink and a little swollen already, but nothing that a pack of ice couldn’t fix.

Steering his truck away from the parking lot, Gallatin headed downtown. It would take him approximately twenty minutes to reach home—a three-room apartment within a five-story building—that he was currently sharing with a roommate. He could hardly wait to get home and find something cold to press against his throbbing ear—maybe a cold beer. Then, play some video games for a while or watch a movie.

He hoped his roommate was already there, back home from the uni, so Gallatin could vent to him about his terrible day and hear about him.

Knowing that he wouldn’t have to be alone tonight and deal with everything, especially tonight , already made him feel a little bit better about it. The tattoo he was supposed to work on today was something he had spent a lot of time on, something he was quite proud of and had been excited to get to work on. Just so that it all had to end up in a physical fight before he even got a chance, getting punched and having to call the cops. The cops had shown up late, as usual, and found the troublemaker already gone and far away. Then Gallatin had to call his boss and explain the situation, only to be told that there was nothing else that he could’ve done and that he should probably take a day or two off—relax and get his mind off the bad things for a while.

Resulting in no tattoos, a wasted effort, and one particularly pissed-off tattoo artist by the end of the day.

Most days, Gallatin loved his craft—the freedom, the creativity, all of it. Every day was new, and every client was different—with a new tattoo and some story behind it. So many stories and exciting conversations resulted in some nice ink on the skin.

Then there were days like these...

He sighed. Heaving a deep, frustrated sigh, he practically floored through the city’s various traffic lights. He turned up the volume slightly, putting on some tunes that he knew would absolutely piss off his bratty roommate, whose taste in music was so vastly different from his. Gallatin could so clearly picture Cahir’s scowling face in his head and that deep, pained groan if he could hear which pop singer’s music Gallatin was currently listening to.

He grinned and chuckled softly. Almost wishing Cahir was there now, sitting next to him and bitching about his music.

His wandering thoughts regarding his roommate amused him, but Gallatin’s nerves were still on edge. It wasn't until his house was finally in sight that he let out a relieved sigh.

He parked his truck in front of the house and walked briskly towards the building. He took the elevator to the fifth floor and tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. Once there, he fished out the apartment keys from his jeans pocket and finally entered a familiar space he could call home. Safe and indeed in much better company now.

A combination of something sweet and spicy—a heavenly scent—instantly filled his nostrils and made his stomach churn. Cahir was already home and, judging by the smell, cooking something delicious in the kitchen, which was enough to put a smile on Gallatin’s face.

He quickly stripped off his leather jacket and kicked off his boots. Strutting towards their tiny kitchen, eager to find out what was for dinner tonight. The closer he got, the more his mouth began watering, realizing he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch at noon.

He finally stopped at the kitchen doorway, looking as though his roommate was busy in front of the stove, and suddenly, the food wasn’t the only thing that made Gallatin’s mouth water with hunger... and burning desire.

Gallatin leaned against the door frame and watched intently as his Cahir kept slow-dancing to whatever song he was listening to on his phone and through his earbuds. Small, narrow hips slowly swayed back and forth while he mumbled along with the lyrics. Except for the parts where he tried to match the singer’s voice, raising his own and going an octave too high, his voice cracked a little.

Gallatin snorted and put a hand in front of his mouth, shaking his head lightly. Cahir couldn’t carry a tune if he were completely honest, but he thought it was cute. Seeing this side of Cahir when he thought his roommate wasn’t watching him.

His eyes slid over Cahir’s favorite olive-green sweater, which was at least one size too big for him and about to fall off his shoulder—exposing a slender but toned shoulder and smooth, tan skin. Cahir was usually pale all year, but this summer had been exceptionally warm and sunny, blessing him with a nice olive complexion.

Gallatin’s blue eyes wandered even further south. Landing on Cahir’s hips that kept slowly swaying back and forth in small, almost tantalizing circles. Gallatin swallowed and could hardly help his gaze falling on his ass. That small but firm little ass, covered in those skin-tight, beige jeans…

Cahir shifted, moving the pan away from the stove and onto the counter, causing Gallatin to avert his eyes quickly; the apples of his cheeks were already flushed warm pink. His eyes looked around the kitchen and then landed on a small fruit painting on the wall. Pretending to be interested in anything but Cahir’s little talent show in their small kitchen or grabbing that tempting little backside of his.

Not a moment too soon, Cahir finally turned around with a plate in one hand, and at the sight of Gallatin, he jolted and gasped, nearly dropping the said plate. “Jesus fuck!”

Gallatin jumped at his sudden reaction, too. His dark eyebrows hiked up to his hairline, and his mouth formed an "o." Not certain whether he should’ve just stood there and watched Cahir until he could catch a breath. Or melted into a grin and laughed at Cahir for holding a hand against his chest and panting wildly like he’d just run a marathon or seen a ghost.

“Fuck, Gallatin,” Cahir hissed. Holding a hand against his chest, trying to steady his quickened heartbeats. “You scared the shit out of me.” Then he scowled when Gallatin could no longer keep it together and grinned at him. “When’d you get back anyway?”

Gallatin rubbed at the side of his neck, smiling awkwardly. “Just a minute ago.” There was no way in hell he would admit that he had been standing there for a few good minutes, gawking at his roommate like he hadn’t seen another human being like him before. “Was thinking about giving you a heads-up, but the way you’ve been dancing and singing there… to your music… I doubt you would’ve heard it from me anyway.”

Once again, he melted into a grin and gave Cahir a wink, who glared in return and then turned his back on him. He tried hiding his embarrassment after being caught dancing and singing badly in the kitchen. “So,” Cahir said, rubbing his face and trying to change the subject. “What made you come back at this early hour? You’re not usually home until seven or eight.”

Gallatin looked at the clock on the wall. It was five-thirty. With a slight shrug, suddenly reminded of one reason why he’d gotten back home so soon, he walked up to the fridge and found just what he was looking for. He pressed a cold beer against his sore ear and hummed as he felt the pain ease immediately. It wasn’t as bad as it had been the moment he’d left work, but the cold definitely relieved some of it.

Having not received a proper answer to his obvious question, Cahir turned around curiously. Seeing Gallatin press a cold beer against his ear, his eyes half-closed as if he had just met God, Cahir’s face immediately switched into a look of concern. His dark eyebrows knitted together. “What the hell happened to you?”

Gallatin gave a dismissive snort, shrugging. “A drunken client is what.” There was a sheepish look on his face as he leaned back against the opposite counter, holding the bottle of beer against his ear. Cahir made a disapproving face and crossed his slim arms over his chest, visibly upset now. He looked like an angry chihuahua; it made Gallatin grin. “Oh, don’t worry. He only managed to get one unlucky punch in before I kicked him out. Called the cops on him, too.”

“Good.”

“Not that it helped much. The fucker got away just before they arrived. ”

Cahir scoffed and pushed himself off the counter, slowly approaching Gallatin. “Typical. He’d better not show his face again, or I will beat his ass.”

Gallatin chuckled. “With what? Those skinny arms of yours?”

Cahir rolled his eyes and snorted. The corners of his mouth were twitching, though. “I was rather thinking of wasting him with a crowbar or my dad’s old baseball bat. My skinny arms work just fine, thank you very much; I’m more worried about my soft hands.” He made a show of it by flashing his hands, spreading and moving about his long fingers and manicured nails.

“Yeah, be a real shame if you broke a nail,” Gallatin joked. Immediately regretting it, Cahir responded by pressing a hand over his, applying more pressure to his already aching ear. Gallatin hissed and flinched. “Ow. Bitch.”

“Aw, you’re breaking my heart. Come on, let me take a look,” Cahir said, and without waiting for permission, he cupped the other side of Gallatin’s face with one hand while the other was trying to pry Gallatin’s hand away from his ear. When Gallatin gave him a questioning look, Cahir responded with a pointed look and one arched eyebrow, and Gallatin sighed in defeat, doing as requested.

As Cahir’s soft hands gently cradled his face and carefully inspected his ear, Gallatin tried to keep his cool—swallowing slowly as he tried not to lean back into his touch or put one of his hands on him. He craved a little closeness and intimacy. Trying to actively ignore how good his touch felt on his skin or how warm his breath felt against his cheek and neck, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand out just a little bit.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Cahir’s voice was soft, almost concerned, and Gallatin’s eyes momentarily shifted to look back at him.

It didn’t help that his roommate was gorgeous. Too fucking pretty, almost. With big, pretty gray eyes and small freckles on his nose. Who was slightly taller than him. He smelled really good, too; he probably had just showered a while ago.

It was hard not to blush, especially when their eyes met and Cahir’s hands still cradled Gallatin’s face. Like it meant something . Gallatin averted his eyes and chuckled softly. “No, not really.” Hoping his blush didn’t show. “Could be worse.” Things could definitely be much worse for him, and yet, somehow, they still were.

“Well,” Cahir mused, and slowly, almost lingeringly, he detached his hands from his roommate’s face. Having seen that his ear wasn’t severely damaged, there was no other reason to keep touching him, especially after seeing the look of discomfort on his friend’s face. “I suppose you’ll live to see another day.”

Gallatin raised his eyebrows and finally dared another look at Cahir, only to find him staring back at him with a soft, faint smile caressing his pink, thin lips. His usually cool eyes looked somewhat warmer than a moment ago, and it made Gallatin’s stomach flip. “I should hope so,” he finally quipped, flashing his roommate yet another mischievous grin.

Cahir hummed and nodded, looking a little sheepish as he slowly turned away. Gallatin gave a simple shrug and grabbed his beer. He found the bottle opener in one of the drawers and uncorked the bottle, taking the first gulp of the cold drink.

The hunger was still gnawing at his stomach, and as Cahir made no move to introduce him to his newest achievement, Gallatin placed the beer back on the counter and strolled towards the stove. “What’s this? Smells good.” He inspected Cahir’s delicious-looking cooking for a few seconds before lifting a finger and reaching out, almost dipping in to taste it.

Cahir caught him just in time, stepping in and slapping at Gallatin’s wrist before his finger could reach any further. “Savage,” his roommate scolded in disgust, and he opened one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out a spoon, which he then handed to Gallatin. The latter rubbed at his wrist, making a small show of it as if it had hurt him, then chuckled and took the spoon from Cahir’s hand.

Cahir attempted another glare, but his mouth unfortunately twitched at Gallatin’s silly antics. He looked away with a suppressed smile while Gallatin chortled. “Dork,” Cahir commented, shaking his head. “All right, go on, taste it.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, some spicy chicken soup, I guess.”

Gallatin stilled, staring at his roommate with a big question mark written across his face. Cahir rolled his eyes. “I met Vilgefortz today. Earlier, when I was shopping for food, I might’ve mentioned in passing that I’m sick of eating pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. So, he gave me this recipe, and I thought I’d try it. If it’s bad, blame him, not me.” He raised his hands defensively and finished it with a big shrug.

Gallatin smiled and gave a little nod. He had to admit that they had been eating a lot of takeout food lately—a lot more than was probably necessary. While he had been mostly busy at the tattoo parlor, occasionally helping another friend at the garage, Cahir was a full-time art student and a part-time model, doing small gigs for magazines and commercials now and then. They both had worked a lot lately and had long days and somehow, they were still barely surviving. Their landlord, having recently upped the price of their rent, didn’t help either—both had seriously considered finding another place and moving out, too.

“I thought you didn’t eat spicy food, though,” Gallatin pointed out. “Your reflux, or whatever it’s called?” Cahir had never really bothered explaining it to him. Other than that, he had a sensitive stomach and got heartburn and even nausea sometimes. That’s why he ate so little in smaller portions—not just for the looks.

“Not really,” Cahir sheepishly admitted, scratching at the back of his head. His cheeks suddenly turned a little pinker. “But, you like it, and I thought since you’ve been complaining a lot about work this week and I wanted us to have something proper to eat for a change, maybe this could cheer you up, you know?”

Something warm and pleasant slowly spread inside Gallatin’s chest. It was fluttering, clenching his insides in the best possible way. To learn that Cahir had been so thoughtful. Cooking something special for him—something that he probably couldn’t even eat himself, which, in a way, also made Gallatin feel a little bad about it at the same time.

He suddenly desired to fold his arms around Cahir and pull him into a firm hug, never letting him go. But he held himself back, just about, and offered his roommate a warm smile and a friendly touch on the bicep instead.

“Thank you. Appreciate it,” Gallatin said, lightly squeezing Cahir’s arm before he let go. Not knowing his touch did things to his roommate that he dared not speak of. “Sorry if I’ve been an ass all this week, it’s been a shit week, honestly. Especially today…”

He felt significantly less pissed off about today’s events than he’d felt five or ten minutes ago. Seeing Cahir’s face, his pretty eyes practically boring into him, like he could see through him and read his thoughts… Gallatin sighed as his chest clenched a little again. He brushed it off with a quick, nervous laugh and another rub against the back of his neck.

“You really didn’t have to, though. I mean, I love this kind of shit, but I know you also got that... thing of yours , and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything at all today once again, so...”

To emphasize his point, Gallatin smirked and gave Cahir a little push in the ribs. A wordless jab that his roommate was scrawny and needed more meat over his bones. Fully knowing that it was just how Cahir was built and the other reasons why. Nevertheless, he couldn’t always help it, teasing his roommate, hoping to get a reaction and little attention from him.

Luckily for him, Cahir also seemed to be in a playful mood. He seemed to accept his little jab without much complaint—but not until he’d also given him a slight, playful push back in his chest. “Careful there, caveman. Go too sweet on me, and there could be tears.”

Gallatin chuckled. “Never actually seen you cry before, but I bet you’d still look pretty.”

Cahir snorted and shook his head. He turned his back on Gallatin again so his roommate couldn’t see him blush at his random compliment. “Well, one of us has to.”

“Oof, that’s harsh,” Gallatin quipped. Dramatically placing a palm on his chest and rubbing over his heart, like Cahir had well and truly insulted him. His roommate could not see him, having turned away once again. Then, he simply walked past him to fetch two new plates from the cupboard. “If we’re done complimenting and insulting each other’s faces, I’d like to get started on this special spicy soup of yours, if you don’t mind.”

 

Quickly taking charge of their small kitchen, fussing around the small space to set the table, and putting some music on—something they both agreed on. It was almost like a romantic dinner between them and not a casual dinner between two roommates. Gallatin was focused entirely on his task. Not paying mind to Cahir, who just quietly leaned against a kitchen counter and watched him—observed him while he chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought. Cahir felt a little short of breath as his eyes followed him, watching his every move and every step in and out of the kitchen.

Since Cahir had cooked for them, Gallatin thought it was only fair to set the table. But for Cahir, watching him do that—start fussing over something so mundane—made him feel things. Warm things slowly spread inside him, clutching his chest and fluttering in his stomach like there were suddenly millions of butterflies inside him. It was making him feel a little bit giddy and more lightheaded.

Cahir clutched a hand to his side, to stop himself from doing something, anything, that he might regret later on.

It all just felt so… domestic, to him. So right that it shouldn’t have felt wrong. To feel things beyond friendship toward someone that he should’ve only seen as a friend and a housemate. Yet, that’s exactly how Cahir felt. Having to play along, having to suppress his feelings and his innermost desires. Just to keep it nice and cool between them. Having to constantly play it down, even when his heart sometimes felt like it was going to burst out of his chest—like right now—because something so little made him so inexplicably happy.

A few minutes later, they were finally sitting at the table and having dinner. Gallatin had already complimented the food more than once, which had made Cahir a little more sheepish and grateful for the appreciation. Consequently, Cahir hadn’t even bothered scolding Gallatin for his usual disgusting habit of shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t seen food in weeks.

Cahir was more than pleased to know that Gallatin had appreciated his effort and that he had succeeded in turning the rather challenging recipe into something fairly tasty on his first try. Hoping that he had managed to do what he had initially planned—cheering up his roommate after a long, shitty week at work, making it worth it.

Gallatin had also asked him about school and his studies, which made Cahir a little awkward—admitting that he had switched his extra subject from photography to art history. Even if he liked taking photos and had an Instagram profile with nearly three thousand followers to show for it, he had begun doubting himself once again, thinking he probably wouldn’t be very good at it. While Gallatin tried to argue with him about it, urging him not to give up and even saying he thought Cahir had an eye for it, the latter ignored him and brushed him off—making them change the subject in the end.

After eating and doing the dishes together—Gallatin washing and Cahir drying—they both plopped on the couch and decided to watch a movie together. Cahir had bought Gallatin a couple of beers, one of which he had already opened, while he settled for a small bottle of Pepsi Max instead.

Picking a movie for a perfect movie night at home naturally turned into a tiny argument between them. Cahir preferred horror, while Gallatin preferred comedy, and none of them were willing to give into each other’s film preferences tonight despite having such a lovely dinner together. So, they finally settled for some classic spaghetti western that none of them had to think too hard about and sat back, trying to relax as best as they possibly could for the next hour and forty-five minutes.

Gallatin’s eyes were fixed on the TV screen as the movie started rolling, and he lifted a bottle to his lips to take a gulp out of his beer. Cahir had settled comfortably right next to him, hands folded and resting over his stomach, while his long legs were stretched across the TV table. The faint scent of his cologne started lingering in the air again, distracting Gallatin as it began filling his senses.

His eyes watched the TV screen, but his mind slowly drifted elsewhere to the very time and moment when they first met each other.

— 

It happened over a year ago. One year and three months, in fact.

Gallatin had just broken up with his girlfriend, whom he had caught cheating on him with his best friend—in their bed—while they thought he was still at work. Angry and heartbroken, he’d stormed out of their apartment and stayed at his friend’s place—anxious to get away from her and start looking for a new home.

He’d needed the place to be far enough from where he lived then and close enough to the tattoo parlor where he worked. Close to his work, but still affordable. The rents downtown were sky-high, but he hadn’t felt like moving into a total slum either.

So Gallatin placed an ad: "Looking for a roommate." Someone decent enough to pay their bills and not party every weekend but also decent enough to look after themselves and keep clean. He didn't want to sound too picky but also not too lenient about it.

Fortunately for him, it hadn’t taken longer than a week to get a few responses to his ad—one of which had particularly caught his interest: ‘Cahir Dyffryn, 24, an art student. Looking for a new roommate because the previous one wasn’t suitable enough.’

When Gallatin had finally contacted Cahir, and they had agreed to meet at his apartment— this very apartment —that Cahir was renting alone, Gallatin remembered being nervous about meeting him, above all things. Clutching at and playing with the lapels of his leather jacket, he was already prepared and braced himself for the worst. Even if Cahir wasn’t much younger than him—one year and a month, apparently—and was allegedly studying art at one of the top colleges in the city, it still meant nothing.

Gallatin’s first fear had been that Cahir was a junkie or an alcoholic or someone with serious mental health issues. No matter how much Cahir’s artistry had intrigued him and largely dominated Gallatin’s choice to pick him first because finding a roommate with similar or shared interests had only seemed reasonable to him, he was still a realist in the end. Knowing from personal experience that artistry often came hand-in-hand with other unpleasant qualities, such as substance abuse, self-destructiveness, and so on.

He wanted to try and be optimistic about it because getting away from his difficult, hurtful situation meant everything to him, and Gallatin really needed it. Still, at the same time, he didn’t want to be too optimistic about it.

With his luck, he’d end up being right about his worst fear, and then he’d have to go back with a tail between his legs and his head hanging low—onto new disappointments.

So when Cahir finally opened the door for him and stepped in the doorway to meet him, Gallatin had all but expected to meet this six-foot-tall handsome guy with short brown hair, beautiful gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a chiseled face. Tall, slender, athletic, legs for days. He wore a long, silver necklace that looked expensive enough; a dark gray top that hugged his small figure yet revealed slim, toned arms; and black, ripped skinny jeans.

He looked sharp, smart enough to be a top student in his class, and pretty enough to be a model (which, it turns out, was right).

When they had first met, Cahir had introduced himself to Gallatin by saying nothing at all at first—just staring at him, leaning against the door frame, quietly studying him as if he were trying to decide whether to invite him in or slam the door in his face.

It had naturally confused Gallatin, who had already struggled to find the words to say. He usually wasn’t someone who blushed easily, but Cahir had had that effect on him since day one.

At that moment, Gallatin knew he was screwed. He had seen a lot of attractive women in his life—bedded quite a few himself, in fact—and a handful of attractive men as well. Until then, he had always considered himself straight; he’d never questioned it or even considered it too seriously, because he’d never had to.

But when Cahir had opened the door for him that day and stared down at him, Gallatin’s brain short-circuited. In a way that he couldn’t logically explain, but also in a way that he had instantly known that he was in trouble.

He hadn’t even realized that he had been standing there and staring back at Cahir without saying a single word, just dumbly staring at this gorgeous man before him, until Cahir finally cleared his throat. Rapidly bringing Gallatin back to his senses and dragging him out of his la-la land. Gallatin’s face had instantly flared, and he’d coughed, then held out his hand and finally introduced himself.

Cahir had grabbed his hand, introducing himself as well, and Gallatin had visibly gulped at the feeling of his soft hand in his own. Fuck, even his hands, his fingers, were long and slender—just like the rest of him. When Cahir pulled his hand back, slowly, almost lingering, and finally invited him inside, he’d worn a slight smirk.

As he’d turned around, almost playful and graceful as a cat, Gallatin had wanted to slap himself for even thinking about taking a curious peek at that perky little ass.

Then, the day of moving in with Cahir finally arrived, and everything seemed to go according to plan. His heart had still beaten wildly just by the idea of living with him now and seeing him daily, getting to know him and what he was like under those good looks. The first few weeks of living together seemed to fly past them faster than expected, and they’d barely gotten into any arguments, aside from a couple of minor things, but nothing more serious.

For the first few weeks of living together, Gallatin wanted to brush it off as a simple attraction—being horny, being sexually confused, maybe just feeling slightly adventurous. Cahir was easy on the eyes, had a nice body despite being a little scrawny, and was pleasant enough to be around, so Gallatin hadn’t thought much of it. Other than he’d thought a lot and that it had occasionally frustrated him, these were things that he was sure would pass in time.

However, when three months of living together had passed, and his thoughts and feelings for Cahir still hadn’t changed—if anything, things had gotten worse— Gallatin had begun to worry about himself seriously. Slowly, he even realized some things about himself and his roommate.

For example, when Cahir walked half-naked in their apartment—after waking up or showering. When he was dripping wet after the shower and wore nothing but a skimpy towel around his hips—his damp, grown-out hair clinging to his neck. Or Cahir wearing skin-tight clothing—tight to the ass, nipples poking through the soft fabric. The dimples on his lower back when he stretched. The small happy trail under his belly button, and so on.

Whenever Cahir smiled, smirked, winked, or even slightly complimented him. Fucking teased him. Even when he tried to insult him—just to get a reaction out of Gallatin.

Gallatin had slowly begun to realize it was more than that. Probably more than just a harmless, little crush that he’d started to feel for his roommate. Maybe he wasn’t so straight after all.

All he knew was that the more time he spent with Cahir, the more he started wanting him. He wanted Cahir . More than as a roommate, more than as a friend. He wanted to hold him, kiss him, and taste him . Consume him like a sweet wine and drink him to the very last drop.

Gallatin had never been good at hiding his feelings or sugarcoating the truth. He had always found himself relatively confident in many things in life, including love, attraction, and relationships. He had always been open with his feelings and all about telling the truth—even when it hurt to say and hear it.

Yet, with Cahir around, Gallatin had repeatedly found himself in the opposite situation. He’d turned from a confident, outspoken man into a mumbling, bumbling mess who kept blushing like a teenager in front of his first crush. Daydreaming about him when he should’ve been talking to him, even... fuck , fantasizing about him while touching himself in his room, alone at night, alone in bed.

It hadn’t been easy for him by any means. Realizing he was in love with a guy after being in love with a woman for a long time, and that guy just happened to be someone with whom he had breakfast and supper every day. Constantly feeling like he had to conceal his feelings and stifle his emotions. He tried to hold himself back from reaching out and touching his friend in a way that could be highly inappropriate—just to know how soft, warm, and firm he felt. He craved closeness and intimacy, and his obsession with someone unattainable did all but help things along.

Somewhere along the line, things slowly but surely progressed from physical attraction to genuine attraction. Aside from finding Cahir physically attractive, Gallatin also began to find his sense of humor attractive. Cahir was sharp as a tack, and he had this dry, sarcastic sense of humor that appealed to Gallatin.

Sure, Cahir wasn’t precisely someone Gallatin would describe as nice. He could be a bit of an asshole at times—an annoying little shit born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He could be rude and aloof and blurt things out of nowhere. Mope about mundane stuff that Gallatin couldn’t give two shits about.

Then again, Gallatin wasn’t such a saint, either. When Cahir pushed him, Gallatin pushed him back. They would mock and insult each other for fun, even poke and shove at each other occasionally to test their limits. To see how far it would take before one of them would crack and blow their fuse.

So far, it had mostly been a fun pastime between them. They had grown accustomed to it around each other, living together. Perhaps even secretly enjoying it together.

Not to mention the day when Gallatin had officially moved in and seen Cahir’s room for the first time, his breathing had literally stalled for a minute once he’d witnessed the art on Cahir’s walls. Mostly sketches and traditional pencil portraits that Cahir had drawn himself. But also some small, colorful landscape paintings and a couple of digital character designs that Cahir had practiced for a school project. 

So, while Gallatin knew that Cahir studied art on the day they met and that Cahir had invited him in, he hadn’t shown him any of his art before, so Gallatin didn’t exactly know what to expect. Having finally witnessed his new roommate's talent and artistry, Gallatin was surprised.

A few months later, some of his favorite pastimes with Cahir were when they were both feeling incredibly bored and out of ideas. They’d soon find themselves in each other’s rooms, lying side by side on the floor, drawing or painting pictures. Feeding each other new ideas and making fun of each other’s art, practicing each other’s portraits, or drawing caricatures of each other. Even planning tattoos together.

Naturally, Gallatin had already suggested to Cahir that he get a tattoo or two from him. He’d already had a couple of pretty good designs in mind that would look downright stunning on Cahir’s body. The inside of his wrist, across his shoulder blade, or stretched over his inner thigh.

Unfortunately for him, Cahir hadn’t warmed up to the idea. Saying it wouldn’t do good for his job as a part-time model, Gallatin first argued that he had seen stunning guys with tattoos in professional photoshoots and that surely Cahir would, too. But when his roommate gave him a stinky eye in return, Gallatin finally had to admit his defeat and give up on the fantasy.

Only for Cahir to soon bring up to him after that that he’d once or twice thought of getting a belly-button piercing or one of his nipples pierced—which had done absolutely nothing to help Gallatin’s already short-circuiting thoughts and secret fantasies—only to add as if to hit the last nail in the coffin, that it would also do no good for his modeling career. To Gallatin’s great disappointment, once again.

His wandering thoughts were momentarily interrupted and brought back to the present moment, with Cahir suddenly shifting next to him on the couch. Changing his position, their shoulders nearly brushed against each other, and Cahir’s legs were slightly more spread. Not obscenely so, but not enough to leave much room for decent thoughts in Gallatin’s head. He slightly clutched a hand to his side. He clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried desperately not to think about placing his hand on his friend’s thigh to feel him up a little—instead of forcing himself to think about something unsexy—like his sweaty socks after the gym.

After trying to get a hold of his feelings and get them back in control— those kinds of feelings in particular—and paying attention to the movie that they were supposed to be watching together, Gallatin’s thoughts started slipping away again. They wandered somewhere in the past, around six months ago.

At that very moment, when they had been sitting on this same couch, drinking and partying, Gallatin had accidentally discovered another secret about Cahir.

—

They had already been drinking beer and wine for a couple of hours that night, getting a nice, warm buzz from it. They had ordered takeout food and kept a TV mute in the background, but they were not paying attention because nothing good was on.

They had initially planned on going out together somewhere—hitting a bar or two, perhaps even a club—and drinking and partying until one would pass out or be thrown out. But the plan soon changed after they both realized that neither had much money on them. So, they’d finally settled on staying home and making the most of it.

Stomachs full, feeling the pleasant buzz from the alcohol, and feeling relaxed enough around each other, they embarked on a lively conversation about various topics until relationship matters finally became hot.

During the few months that they had lived together around then, Cahir had learned just about everything about Gallatin’s past relationships—his latest ex in particular—that had brought them together. The ex-girlfriend that Cahir had quite unapologetically called a "fucking bitch" in Gallatin’s face, to which the latter had laughed.

Meanwhile, Gallatin knew next to nothing about Cahir’s past relationships, let alone his current ones. Other than that, he only seemed to have female friends that he liked to bring over occasionally for a cup of coffee or to help him study. But whenever Gallatin tried asking him about them, Cahir always casually told him they were friends, nothing more. Nothing else was going on, pinky swear.

As much as Gallatin tried to control his curiosity and respect Cahir’s boundaries, the alcohol tended to bring out another side he found harder to control: tenacious and playful.

With those two qualities combined and alcohol running through his veins, lowering his self-control, Gallatin practically assaulted Cahir with a series of questions about his romantic life and past relationships that night. Until then, Cahir had always brushed him off or ignored his questions entirely—showing very little interest whenever Gallatin tried to talk about women, dating women, and so on.

Gallatin was just curious, and he wanted to know. He didn't know precisely why he’d wanted to know so badly about Cahir’s romantic life or interests, but just that he did.

Whether Cahir had someone special in mind.

After a series of questions and some slight teasing—even poking and pushing Cahir a little in search of answers—Gallatin could still vividly remember the look on his roommate’s face. Even if Gallatin had been a little drunk, and it had already happened six months ago, he could still vividly remember when Cahir closed his eyes and rubbed his face tiredly. The sound of his voice, the deep heaved sigh when his roommate finally blurted out:

“I’m gay.”

Those two words had practically echoed in Gallatin’s ears. They rang in his head while his heart started pounding faster in his chest. Pounding and echoing until, for a moment, Gallatin could hear nothing more than his quickened heartbeats.

All this time . All that time living with Cahir and thinking his roommate, his friend , liked women just like him. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

All Gallatin could do then was just stare at his roommate, motionless. No thoughts; brain empty. Knowing he probably should’ve said anything to give Cahir the impression that he wasn’t upset or even shocked—okay, maybe he was a little dumbstruck, but not that way. But for some reason, he just couldn’t do it.

Then Cahir finally sighed again. The unmistakable shudder in his breath as he continued:

“I haven’t told anyone but you and my good friends. My own family would probably disown me in a heartbeat if they knew. I wasn’t going to tell you either because I feared you’d freak out, and I obviously didn’t want that happening, so…”

Gallatin nodded slowly, still clueless about what to say, and Cahir fell silent. An awkward silence between them had ensued for a few good minutes, with Gallatin’s thoughts and heart racing wildly and Cahir trying to figure out how to escape the situation and never bring it up again. Cahir eventually broke the silence again. He sounded even more frustrated than before. “Look, I’m sorry. I really fucking am. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just wanted a decent roomie after the last one, and you’ve been all that so far, and it made me so happy. But I understand. I can’t change how I am; I really wish I could, but I just can’t fucking help it.”

Gallatin hadn’t seen it, but Cahir had felt tears trying to escape the corners of his eyes, and he’d stood up quickly from the couch. He tried to hide it—his feelings, his emotions. Cahir was afraid of being left alone and losing someone he’d grown to like. Perhaps even more than he’d wanted to admit .

Gallatin had jolted at his reaction and tried to follow through by getting up because he hadn’t intended to hurt him. Ever. But then Cahir quickly stopped him, raising his hand and shaking his head.

“Look, I’m not asking you to do anything for me. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do to you. Even if you were my type, which I assure you you’re not , you’re still my roommate, and I respect that too much to ruin an already good thing. So… good night, Gallatin.”

With those words, Cahir stormed out of the living room and into his bedroom, half-slamming the door behind himself. Leaving a confused Gallatin sitting on the couch, his heart still racing wildly, but now because he’d felt guilty and sorry for upsetting Cahir.

Even if it had upset Gallatin a little to hear that he was not Cahir’s type, that he couldn’t stand a chance with him—e ven if, as it turns out, Cahir liked dudes and not chicks.

It had prickled Gallatin and his pride—and still did, a little. However, their friendship mattered more to him than anything else. Even if it was difficult at times, being close to Cahir mattered to him —even if he could never touch and hold him the way he actually wanted to.

Both had slept over that night, with their next morning being relatively quiet and awkward. But they had worked it all out quickly and never brought the events of that night up again. Gallatin tried his best to show Cahir with kind deeds and words that his friend’s sexuality didn’t matter to him—hell, he almost even blurted out that he wasn’t quite straight either, but then decided against it. It wasn't the right time or the right moment for that. Eventually, Cahir finally relaxed, and they could interact like good old friends again as if none of that had ever happened between them.

—

And now, six months later, there they were again. Two friends sat next to each other on that same couch, watching some stupid, ancient spaghetti western together. At least Gallatin tried hard with his ever-wandering thoughts and incredibly inappropriate thoughts regarding his dear friend, who was so close yet far away.

Cahir sat so comfortably next to him. With his long legs spread and his skinny arms resting at his sides, hands cradling his small belly. Meanwhile, Gallatin kept nervously tapping his fingers against his thighs. Stealing glances at Cahir, trying not to be too obvious about it, while unaware that Cahir was secretly doing the same thing when he wasn’t looking.

The movie finally ended fifteen minutes later, and they were both contemplating for a minute or so whether to watch another one. Soon, they decided against it, feeling ready to hit the bed and get some sleep.

Gallatin yawned loudly as he pushed himself off the couch, wishing Cahir a good night. At least he didn’t have to get up early tomorrow, having seriously considered taking his boss’ advice and a few days off. Perhaps his ear would feel better tomorrow as well.

 

Cahir soon followed, getting up from the couch as well. He didn’t feel nearly as tired as Gallatin, but he didn’t want to keep his tired roommate up either, especially after what had happened to him today. His eyes followed Gallatin as the other man disappeared into his room and closed the door. Lingering there momentarily, he finally gave up with a small sigh.

Cahir had other plans for the night—foolish hopes and dreams, but it had once again become clear that his plans hadn’t worked as he’d hoped.

Rooming with a straight guy, who was both attractive and great company, was sometimes pure hell for him. Like every day's torture brought down on him by the highest heavens—as if to punish him for being a filthy sinner or something like that.

Cahir finally walked into his room, a little tired but defeated. After closing the door, he plopped onto his bed, trying to get some sleep. Briefly, he even thought about sticking his hand inside his boxers and rubbing one out—unaware that Gallatin was thinking exactly the same thing in his own room—to see if it would help him sleep better. But then he shook it off and finally pulled the blanket over himself, closing his eyes. There would be a new dawn once again.

 

—

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Two weeks had passed, and the two roommates were going about their lives just like before. Gallatin worked a little harder, and so did Cahir, but hardly anything else really changed.

Notes:

I can't even begin to tell you how many tries it took me to edit this chapter. It was all written out ages ago, but typing vs. logic = only sometimes happens. I hope I made it make sense this time.

—

It was 9 p.m. on Wednesday. Despite feeling slightly tired after work and school, neither was particularly sleepy.

They sat on the floor in Cahir’s room, drawing, sketching, and laughing together. Their arms lightly brushed against one another now and then, creating a tiny spark of electricity between them.

Gallatin told some stupid joke and made Cahir laugh hard. As Cahir fell to his side, curled up on the floor, Gallatin placed a warm hand on his lower back. Giving him a friendly pat as he laughed with him.

As his hand slowly slipped away, lingering and hesitating, Cahir practically whimpered at a loss. He wanted to turn around and press against his roommate’s firm body—to seek more warmth, closeness, and intimacy.

Finally regaining their composure, they stopped, unable to focus on drawing anymore. Cahir played music on his phone and reached for his secret stash hidden inside his small work desk. With a mischievous eyebrow, he smirked at Gallatin, whose eyes instantly lit up.

They listened to the music on Cahir’s phone while smoking weed. Passing the blunt back and forth between each other, their fingertips touched again, creating the same jolt of energy. There was a desire to hold hands; their bodies were so close yet far apart.

The ceiling above them slowly spun around and around. Gallatin chuckled and blinked his eyes, then shook his head, trying to shake away the dizzy feeling. His bleary eyes finally landed on Cahir, who had his eyes closed and his head tilted back.

His mouth hung slightly open.

Gallatin stared at his friend in awe. Cahir swallowed, causing the Adam’s apple in his throat to slowly bob. Long, dark eyelashes landed on his high cheekbones. Gallatin’s eyes closely followed the sharp line of his sculpted jawline. Cahir’s eyes remained closed, and the corners of his mouth turned upward.

He looked calm and peaceful as if there wasn’t a single worry weighing heavy on his mind.

Calm, peaceful, and so fucking gorgeous.

Gallatin wanted to kiss him so badly. He was desperate to know how those lips would feel against his. Instead, his eyelids fluttered, and he curled his fingers on the carpet, holding back.

His body had started to relax, too. It was almost like he couldn’t even feel his own body anymore, floating on cloud nine. All he wanted to do was stay there and lie next to his friend—not to worry about tomorrow or anything else.

Yet, tomorrow, Gallatin had to work again—at least one client with an intricate sleeve that he needed to get started on. It would take him time—certainly more appointments than just one—and he needed a clear head and a good night’s sleep for that.

Eventually shaking off the euphoric feeling, Gallatin finally clambered up from the floor and stood up. Feeling like a true gentleman, he turned around and held his hand out for Cahir, offering to pull him up.

When Cahir looked up, their eyes instantly met. Gallatin’s warm and welcoming smile practically filled the room, and Cahir’s stomach flipped. With a soft chuckle and warm, rosy cheeks, Cahir grabbed his friend’s hand—feeling a pleasant heat pass between their bodies through their linked hands.

When they faced each other, Gallatin was again reminded of their slight height difference. The level of Cahir’s eyes just barely above his, and he stood so close to him that Gallatin could practically feel his warm breath tickle his face.

It made him swoon.

Gallatin’s eyes followed with interest as Cahir’s teeth caught his lower lip. His mind went blank for a moment. Aside from almost considering closing the gap between them—cupping Cahir’s face and pulling him into a hot, frenzied kiss. To place one firm hand on his chest and push him back until Cahir’s legs hit the bed. To crawl over his body and kiss him some more until they had to part for breath. Cahir’s lips would be hot and wet on his, and those long legs wrapped around his hips—

Cahir cleared his throat, snapping Gallatin out of it.

There was a trace of a tiny smirk on his face; dancing, teasing him. It made Gallatin fluster. “Sorry,” he muttered and turned his head away. He politely stepped a few steps back before looking at Cahir again. “Night.” Offering a soft yet nervous smile.

Cahir’s face fell slightly at his reaction, but he nodded back. His lips spread thin and pale as he murmured a quiet 'night' back at him.

After Gallatin had made his way back into his room, he’d plopped down into his bed and hit his head on the pillow a few times. With a deep groan, he congratulated himself on officially being the biggest coward on this planet.

—

On Friday, Gallatin hit the gym with some good friends he hadn’t seen in a while. After a satisfying workout, they had all gone out for a couple of hours—dining together, having a couple of drinks—and when Gallatin had finally returned home, it was already late in the evening.

Hollering "I'm home" at the door and getting no response, Gallatin frowned. He kicked off his shoes and threw his gym bag on the floor, briskly making his way to the living room. He began to wonder whether Cahir was even home and, if not, then whether he’d be out with his friends, too.

Finding Cahir asleep on the couch—curled up in a ball, sleeping like a baby—Gallatin stopped in his tracks. The TV was still on, and one of Cahir’s schoolbooks lay wide open on the table. One of his arms hung from the couch, revealing a slender, bony wrist while his messy head of hair rested on another.

At the sight of Cahir’s open mouth—a small puddle of drool formed a wet patch on the pillow beneath his head—Gallatin melted into a grin. He reminded himself to resist the urge to tease his friend about it, knowing Cahir would give him a fierce look for even being suggested that he was anything but cool and handsome.

Just like Gallatin, Cahir worked so hard all the time— he tried so goddamn hard. This time, he must’ve overdone it again, bringing himself to literal exhaustion. Gallatin felt sorry for him. He went back and forth about either waking him up and telling him to go to his room or just getting him a blanket and letting him rest there for the night.

Then Gallatin remembered that he had promised to help a friend move their things to a new apartment tomorrow. He groaned softly, already regretting making that promise, knowing it would take him all Saturday and virtually no rest. He would have to wake up early, and if he let Cahir sleep on the couch, his roommate would likely be interrupted and woken up, too.

Having made his decision, Gallatin tiptoed toward the couch. He grabbed the remote control, shut down the TV, and closed Cahir’s book. He gently pushed Cahir’s shoulder, pushing him until Cahir was on his back—his roommate let out an adorable sigh, which made Gallatin’s heart flutter. With little effort, Gallatin slid one arm beneath Cahir’s knees and another under his back and hoisted him up in his arms.

Cahir let out a shudder and blinked his eyes. He clung slightly to Gallatin’s shoulder as the panic struck him. “Gal—what are you—“

"Shh," Gallatin hushed, readjusting the other man in his arms. “I’m taking you to bed. Put your arms around my neck.”

Gallatin started carrying Cahir toward his bedroom. Cahir felt a warm shiver run through his body, and he tiredly did as he was told, resting his head on Gallatin’s shoulder.

Gallatin carefully laid Cahir on the bed and then bit down his lower lip. Cahir was still in his jeans, which would be uncomfortable to sleep in. He took a deep breath, shrugged, and gently shook Cahir’s shoulder.

“Gonna take those jeans off you first, then you can sleep, yeah?”

Cahir’s eyes struggled to stay open—his limbs felt sore and almost too heavy to move—but he nodded. Gallatin gave a small nod in return and then slowly reached for the buttons in Cahir’s jeans, popping them open one by one.

Gallatin tried not to let his mind wander too much, to let it become distracted, when Cahir lazily lifted his hips from the mattress—exposing his flat belly, the jutting hip bones, and the shape of his soft cock and balls through his white briefs. Gallatin was actively trying to ignore his slowly wandering, inappropriate thoughts when he slid the jeans down those long legs—briefly wondering if this was the sight that he would be blessed with if he ever got a chance to bed his gorgeous roommate.

Then he remembered that Cahir had once made it clear that Gallatin wasn’t his type. He’d even called him ugly once. Gallatin had tried not to let it bother him too much back then because that was just part of their game and their sense of humor—teasing, taunting, making fun of each other. Nothing too serious there, usually. Cahir probably didn't even mean it; he could be a little blunt at times.

However, still knowing that Cahir was out of his league—knowing his friend could have anyone he wanted—made Gallatin feel slightly melancholy.

He pulled the blanket at Cahir’s feet and spread it over his body, tucking him in. Cahir’s sigh was dreamy, and he curled up again, looking nothing short of adorable in Gallatin’s eyes. He was tempted to lean in and kiss his hair—something he always used to do with his ex-girlfriend.

Something that Cahir wasn’t—his boyfriend. Not now, probably not ever.

Gallatin ran his fingers through his own hair, then softly touched Cahir’s shoulder, telling him good night.

—

When Cahir later asked Gallatin about it, he looked almost sheepish.

“Why’d you do that? You could’ve just let me sleep on the couch.”

Gallatin rubbed at the back of his neck and pursed his lips. He didn’t have a good answer for it—none that he necessarily desired to voice Cahir. “Well, uh… You’d fallen asleep on the couch, and I thought you might feel more comfortable sleeping in your own bed.”

Cahir raised his eyebrows, and Gallatin quirked his own.

“So you couldn’t just wake me up and tell me to walk there myself?”

“Oh, but I could. I just wanted to see if I could carry you, so I did.”

“Huh,” Cahir huffed and lowered his gaze. He started spinning a spoon in his coffee mug, avoiding his roommate’s eyes as the memory of Gallatin carrying him flushed his body with sudden heat. “Didn’t realize you were that strong.”

Gallatin shrugged. “Nah, you’re just light.” Though Cahir weighed more than he looked, Gallatin was glad his visits to the gym had paid off. “Might’ve been a good thing you don’t carry much fat over those bones. Could’ve broken my back otherwise.”

Cahir rewarded him with a crooked grin and a slap on his shoulder, making Gallatin laugh again. Cahir then got up and took the dishes to the sink to be washed. It was a good chance for him to shake off the familiar warmth growing in his belly. Gallatin calling him "light," no matter how likely it was intended as another jab toward him, still made Cahir smile—just like whenever Gallatin called him pretty.

While Cahir was used to it—people often commenting on his appearance, positively and negatively—getting feedback on his looks both from his Instagram followers as well as photographers during photo shoots, he still enjoyed it. Attention. Yet, Gallatin’s attention always felt more personal to him—special.

Cahir sighed and grabbed the dish brush, scrubbing a plate in his hands slightly harder. He moved on to cleansing his coffee mug next.

Gallatin pretended to be looking at this phone and not at all side-eyeing his roommate. He wanted to talk to Cahir about it. How he felt for him, what he really wanted. But whenever he even thought about bringing it up, the time seemed wrong. As much as he desired certain things regarding his roommate, Gallatin didn’t want to risk their friendship or move out because he made Cahir uncomfortable.

“Uh, Gallatin?”

Cahir was finished doing dishes and turned around, leaning against the sink. Gallatin arched one of his eyebrows, leaning against one of his thighs. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Cahir seemed nervous, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He slowly pushed himself off the sink and shifted towards the table where Gallatin sat, sitting opposite him. “You, uh, remember when I said I needed new pictures for my Instagram?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I was just thinking... Could we go to the beach and park today and take pictures of me?” Cahir asked, rubbing his neck. They had done it a couple of times before, and it was fun. Gallatin’s eyes lit up. “It’s nice and warm outside. It’d be a shame to waste it, don’t you think?”

—

Thirty-five minutes later, they made it to the park. Gallatin brought the system camera he used at work and took some lovely photos of Cahir. Some in which Cahir was being playful and having fun, and some a little more professional-looking ones. In one of them, Cahir leaned against an oak tree—his arm bent over his head, and his long legs crossed—looking directly into the camera with his dreamy, gray-blue eyes. A few minutes later, he sat on a park bench, his legs slightly parted. One arm rested on the backrest while his eyes gazed somewhere far away into the horizon.

They took a few more pictures on the beach where Cahir sat in the sand, legs stretched before him and his fingers buried in the sand. There was a profile picture with the sun setting in the distance and the foamy sea waves crashing in the background. A few more with Cahir standing in the water and openly laughing as Gallatin kept making faces at him behind the camera. Then yet a few more with Cahir crouching on the ground, one knee down and one arm leaning on the other—his eyes impossibly dreamy once again.

Gallatin felt his heartbeat thrum in his chest. His cheeks flushed when Cahir looked at him through the camera lens with a soft smile caressing those gorgeous features. Gallatin had thought he couldn’t be in more love with this guy, and yet, he was wrong. The feeling practically ached in his chest, twisted in knots in his stomach, but it was a pleasant sensation.

Lastly, they climbed up a hill and found a good spot above the beach on a small cliff with a metal railing. Cahir sat on the fence, straddling it, and gave a couple of decent enough poses on top of it. His smile was addicting; he seemed to smile a lot that day, and Gallatin couldn’t get enough of it.

He was ready to show Cahir the pictures he had taken with his camera so he could choose which photos he wanted to keep and post on his Instagram when Cahir suddenly got up and walked to him. Taking the camera away from his hands without so much as a warning and then, with a smile, said to him:

“Your turn.”

Gallatin stilled, feeling like his heart had suddenly skipped a beat. His eyebrows hiked all the way up to his hairline, and his forehead creased along with it. “Say again?”

Cahir rolled his eyes like Gallatin had just told him his favorite color was pink. “Your turn to pose, dummy. I’m going to take pictures of you.”

Gallatin’s chest constricted with slight anxiety, and he shook his head.  “Uhh, no, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will. I need my roommate to look good for my Instagram.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Well, why the fuck not?” Cahir huffed and downright nearly pouted, too. Gallatin hated it when he did that. It was like he'd become a toddler again, not a grown-ass man.

“Because—because I’m not like you, Cahir. I don’t know how to look good in pictures. I’m not pretty like you, you know?” Gallatin scoffed. “Nobody wants to see my ugly mug on your Instagram, I guarantee you that. They’d think I got there by accident.”

“Gallatin,” Cahir finally sighed and closed the distance between them. Practically breathing on Gallatin’s face, he placed one comforting hand on his shoulder and met his eyes, completely serious. “Go stand there and let me take your photo. People are gonna go crazy over you, trust me.”

Gallatin stared at him in disbelief, and Cahir answered with an expectant look. He wanted to add that Gallatin looked good enough to eat—that Cahir was probably going to feel a little jealous about the attention that his raven-haired roommate with tattooed arms, sharp jawline, and a toned, sculpted body was surely going to get from his small army of followers.

Cahir patted Gallatin’s shoulder, motioning him to stand where he’d stood a moment ago, and eventually, Gallatin begrudgingly agreed. He walked up to the railing and leaned slightly against it, waiting for further instructions. It took him a few awkward poses and a few more frustrated sighs on Cahir’s part for Gallatin to finally understand what he was meant to do there and have more confidence in himself. Once he did and learned to relax, Cahir started snapping pictures of him again—instructing him and, best of all, complimenting him.

Gallatin wouldn’t lie; not only was he flattered, but it also made him feel incredibly powerful. He was so used to Cahir’s half-assed insults thrown in his general direction that hearing compliments from him felt fresh and inspiring for a change.

Once Cahir was done, he sat on the fence next to Gallatin and handed him back his camera. Gallatin looked and scrolled through the photos that Cahir had taken of him and felt impressed. Though Gallatin had never seen himself as downright ugly—he was pretty confident in his looks, and it had admittedly helped him with some things in life—he had never considered himself particularly photogenic or handsome. Yet somehow, Cahir seemed to know exactly what he was doing with him, making Gallatin feel good and relaxed enough in front of the camera.

“These are pretty good,” He finally commented, making Cahir blush and reply with a soft "thank you" in return. “Are you still absolutely sure you want to study art history? I feel like this is more your forte, no offense.” 

Cahir shrugged and lowered his gaze. He was conflicted about it, and Gallatin knew it had everything to do with his father. They would have to talk about it one day, he decided then. Until then, they probably had to spend and struggle a little more together, trying to stuff all that history information in Cahir's head during their nightly study sessions. Gallatin didn't mind them, of course—he just felt sorry for Cahir and wanted to help him.

He kept scrolling through pictures—his and Cahir’s—until Cahir got bored and dug out his phone from his pocket. Gallatin jolted when he felt a sudden poke in his side, eyeing his friend curiously.

Cahir's grin was instant. “A couple of pictures more. You and I, both.”

Gallatin nodded—dumbly, confused, and yet slightly more excited—and shifted closer to Cahir, feeling his roommate press closer to him. Their closeness made his chest constrict and flutter simultaneously, and he couldn’t help his wide grin seeing them both reflected on Cahir’s phone screen, posing for a picture. They looked so good together, even if he only said so himself.

After a couple of successful, adorable pictures together, Gallatin was about to turn away and return to his former task when he suddenly felt Cahir press even closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Then, without as much as a warning, Cahir’s arm around his neck tightened, and there was a press of soft, warm lips on Gallatin’s cheek. Quickly followed by the sound of a camera snapping.

It was sudden and unexpected and did things to Gallatin that he dared not speak of. Cahir quickly pulled away and smirked at Gallatin, wiggling his eyebrows. Gallatin snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna post that on your Instagram, too?”

Cahir laughed, then shrugged. “Maybe I will.”

“Please don’t. People are gonna think things.”

“Such as?”

Cahir raised his eyebrow. Gallatin’s breath got caught in his throat for a few seconds, trying to think of something clever to say to that. He couldn’t, and truthfully, he didn’t even mind if Cahir posted it. “Never mind. It’s your Insta; post what you like, I guess.”

A wide grin spread on Cahir’s face, and he did a little victory dance while sitting, making Gallatin shake his head in amusement. Sometimes, he couldn’t figure out his roommate and his little quirks, but perhaps he didn’t even have to. “Well, if we’re finished here, I’d like to go home. If that’s alright with you.”

Cahir smirked and lightly elbowed him. “Getting tired, old man?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, my fellow old man. As fun as this has been, it’s been a long day for me, and I’d like a chance to rest my weary feet and start counting sheep.”

“Cute. You rhymed,” Cahir commented and shoved his phone into his pocket. Landing a firm smack on Gallatin’s thigh, he stood up. “Let’s not waste any time, then. I’m fucking starving.”

Gallatin chuckled and promptly followed Cahir. “Alright. Let’s feed your belly first. Be a shame if your skinny ass got any smaller.” He got his payback and a small victory as he smacked Cahir’s ass, making him jolt. As he laughed at his reaction, Cahir smacked him in the back of his head. “Oi!”

“You’ve been checking out my ass?”

“Maybe,” Gallatin quipped and grinned. Cahir turned away and pretended to look disgusted, but his lips quivered. “We live together, after all, so I think I have the right to check you out, pretty boy.”

It sounded like an excuse, and it was, but none of that mattered in the end.

“Right,” Cahir answered and kept looking away from Gallatin because his cheeks felt a little hotter once again. The idea of Gallatin possibly checking him out flattered him, even excited Cahir a little. The slap from his hand still burned and tingled his left buttock. “Since you love calling me pretty oh-so-very-often, maybe you should finally buy me a nice dress. Pay my bills, too, and I'll forever be a good housewife.”

Gallatin’s brain nearly short-circuited at the thought of Cahir wearing a dress. He knew that Cahir was clearly joking about that, but Gallatin couldn’t help but entertain the idea in his head for a while. “Great idea. I’ll buy you some nice lipstick to match that dress, too.”

Cahir made a face. “Fuck you.”

Gallatin chortled. “You’re okay with a dress but not lipstick?”

“Like I said, fuck you.”

“That a threat or a promise?”

Cahir choked a little at that—it was his brain’s turn to short-circuit—earning another laugh from Gallatin. Soon, he managed to get himself back in line, and he sighed. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he teased. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Gallatin let out a hearty laugh at that. “Well, I sure would like to know if I should worry about waking up one morning with a strange pain in my butt.”

“Oh, don’t worry. If it ever comes to that, I’ll be gentle.”

“Thanks. Knowing I have such a good friend at my side, I can finally sleep at night.”

“Anything for you and only for you.”

With a burst of laughter, they finally made it to Gallatin’s car—on their way to get some takeout food, then headed back home.

—

Notes:

We're finally done with chapter 2! As I said in the beginning, I already wrote this ages ago but it took me oh-so-very-long to rewrite and edit some parts (life hasn't been easy and kind for me exactly lately...). I don't know when I'll post chapter 3 next because the same long, painful process will most likely follow and the lack of focus is a thing I struggle with virtually every day of my life, so yeah, not nice.

Anyway, kudos and comments are appreciated! ♥

Notes:

I'm also on Tumblr, so come say hi! :)