I Wanna Do What Lovers Do

by includedisco

Summary:

After a life of loss and darkness, Fadel is ready to embrace the ordinary joys of life and love

Notes:

Wherein Fadel just wants to do-with Style- all the nice things that lovers do.
Hi. Each chapter will be a different FadelStyle date, so I'll probably keep updating this as a chaptered story for a little while until i run out of ideas...or until all types of dates are exhausted. Chapters are not exactly related, so each one can be enjoyed as a stand-alone one shot
I can't express my gratitude enough for all your compliments towards my writing and my stories; and also for your support in general. Thank you

Chapter 1: Picnic

Style arrives at Fadel’s house and steps inside, the familiar scent of home greeting him as he makes his way to the kitchen. There, he finds Fadel putting the final touches on a picnic basket, his hands moving with practiced ease. The sight is heartwarming for Style because Fadel always has a way of making even the simplest tasks seem endearing.

In line with their agreement to try out typical dates that regular couples enjoy, Style and Fadel decided to plan a picnic at the park. Now, Style is here to pick Fadel up, ready to make the most of their day together…just like the dating manual Style read says.  

“Good afternoon, krub,” Style chirps, his voice light and cheerful as he holds up his own basket.

Fadel looks up, his lips curling into a soft smile as he watches Style approach. “Hi,” he replies, his voice warm and inviting.

Style closes the distance between them, his hand gently resting on Fadel’s chest as he leans in for a quick, loving kiss. When he pulls back, Fadel’s gaze lingers, taking in Style’s cropped plaid shirt and shorts. The outfit suits him perfectly; playful, carefree, and ready for adventure.

“You look nice,” Fadel says, his tone sincere. And Style really does look nice. The way the sunlight catches in his hair and the way his eyes sparkle with mischief make Fadel’s heart skip a beat.

“Thank you,” Style replies, his voice soft as he sets his basket down. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around Fadel’s shoulders and kisses him again, this time slower. Fadel turns toward him, his hands finding Style’s waist and pulling him closer. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

A loud sigh interrupts the moment. “It must be so nice to be in love,” Bison says as he walks into the room, his voice dripping with mock wistfulness and a dramatic pout on his lips.

Style and Fadel reluctantly pull apart, their cheeks tinged with pink. Fadel shoots his brother a look. “It’s not like you got dumped. Kant is only out of town. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Might as well be forever,” Bison grumbles, heading to the fridge to grab a tub of ice cream. Fadel frowns at him, crossing his arms.

“You have a cough, Bison. No ice cream.”

“I’ll only eat a few spoons.”

“No.”

“Fadel,” Bison whines, his voice pleading.

Fadel simply lifts an eyebrow, his expression firm. Bison stares back defiantly, the tension thick in the air. Seconds tick by before Bison suddenly makes a dash out of the kitchen, the ice cream held in his hands.

Fadel looks at Style, who’s trying- and failing- to suppress a smile. “I’ll be back shortly,” Fadel promises, his tone resigned but affectionate. Style’s smile turns into a grin as he watches Fadel go. The house falls silent for a moment, save for the thudding sound of Bison’s running footsteps. Then, a distant whine echoes through the halls: “Fadeeeewww!”

Style bursts into laughter, his imagination painting a vivid picture of Fadel chasing his brother down. A moment later, Fadel reappears, holding the ice cream bowl triumphantly in his hands. “I like it when you’re in your big brother mode,” Style chortles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I’m not spending another night refreshing his hot water bottle, putting vapor rub on his chest, and making him ginger and lemon tea,” Fadel says, though there’s no real annoyance in his voice. Even as he complains, Style can see the sweetness and care Fadel has for his brother. It’s one of the things he loves most about him.

Fadel walks over and points at the basket Style brought. “Didn’t we agree that I’d make the food? What’s in here?” he asks, curiosity piqued.

Style opens the basket for Fadel to peek inside, revealing an assortment of wine bottles. Fadel gives him a look that’s half amused, half incredulous. Style merely wiggles his eyebrows, completely unapologetic.

****

At the park, the air is fresh and crisp, the well-trimmed lawn stretching out before them like a green carpet. The trees sway gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling softly. Style reaches for Fadel’s hand, interlacing their fingers as they walk.

“Upon arrival at the park, we walk round hand in hand, looking for the perfect spot,” Style narrates, his voice playful. Their gazes meet momentarily, and they share a soft smile before continuing their search.

Suddenly, Style halts, forcing Fadel to stop as well. Fadel looks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

“Right about now, we take a selfie,” Style declares, pulling out his phone. He wraps his arm around Fadel’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Smile,” he instructs softly.

Fadel glances at Style, then back at the camera, licking his lips nervously before offering a tentative smile. Style snaps a few photos, then slides his arm down to rest playfully under Fadel’s chin. “You’re so beautiful when you smile,” he says, his voice warm and sincere.

The compliment makes Fadel’s smile widen, his teeth showing, and Style captures the moment happily. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Fadel’s cheek and snapping one last photo.

They eventually find a spot under a large umbrella tree, its branches providing some good shade. “Is this wise? Birds might poop on us,” Style points out, his tone teasing.

“I’m more worried about a snake landing on our blanket,” Fadel counters, his lips twitching with amusement.

Style considers this for a moment, his hand on his waist. “Well, we could sit in the sun… but I suppose birds will poop on us wherever we sit.”

“It’s a memory we can tell our children,” Fadel says, his voice light and playful.

Style’s gaze snaps back to Fadel, and he grins. “Does that mean you’re ready to get me pregnant?”

“No,” Fadel replies, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“Or for me to get you pregnant?”

“Neither.”

Style pouts but doesn’t push further. They settle on the spot, spreading their blanket and unpacking their baskets. Style takes more pictures; of the surroundings, the picnic setup, and of Fadel, who looks effortlessly handsome in the warm sunlight.

*****

The afternoon unfolds in a whirlwind of activities. They share a quick lunch, each eating a sandwich before Style eagerly moves on to the next plan. He suggests listening to music together, and they set up their headphones, but the activity lasts only about ten minutes before Style proposes reading to each other. That, too, is short-lived.

“Okay, so at one point, we’ll get attacked by a bird. I’ll scream in terror, and you’ll heroically shoo it away,” Style declares, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Fadel nods slowly, then looks up at the clear sky, squinting slightly as the sun’s rays hit his eyes. “So… are we supposed to summon the bird, or…?” he asks, his tone dry.

“No, it’ll come to us naturally,” Style replies with conviction.

Next, Style grabs a bottle of red wine and hands Fadel a glass. He fills both glasses, then positions his phone to capture the moment. “Lean toward me,” he instructs, and Fadel obliges, though he looks slightly bemused.

Fadel takes exactly one sip of his wine before Style snatches the glass from his hand, leaving him stunned and mildly scandalized. Style, oblivious to Fadel’s reaction, rummages through the picnic basket and pulls out a bunch of grapes. “We’ll feed each other these,” he announces.

“And take pictures?” Fadel drawls, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Style, missing the sarcasm entirely, strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Sure, why not?” he agrees.

Fadel decides it’s time to speak up. “Style, this isn’t fun for me,” he says gently, his expression kind but firm.

Style’s smile drops, replaced by apprehension and sadness. “Why? What’s wrong? Is it the location? We can move closer to the river. You said you liked the sound of the ripples, right?”

“It’s not the location.”

 “What is it, then?” Style asks, his voice small and uncertain

“We’re not in the moment of the actual date. You’re narrating it,” Fadel explains, his tone soft but honest.

Style tilts his head, confused.

Fadel smiles fondly and takes his hand. “Let’s wait until we’re hungry to eat, until we’re thirsty to drink wine, until we want to cuddle to actually cuddle, and until we want to take pictures to do so. Let’s do what comes naturally to us, not what some guide tells us we should be doing as lovers on a picnic date.”

It takes a moment for Style to understand what Fadel is saying, but he does get it eventually, and they take it slow after that, sipping their wine leisurely and simply talking. Style fills Fadel in on the latest gossip from his garage, his animated storytelling making Fadel laugh. Fadel, who never cared much for gossip before, now finds himself looking forward to these little updates. It’s his favorite kind of tea these days.

When Fadel pours them some white wine, they both take a sip and immediately make faces, bursting into laughter. “Any brand of white wine below a certain price range will always taste cheap. I get it now,” Style says, shaking his head.

“Why did you buy a cheap brand?” Fadel asks, amused.

“When I walk into a store, I’m fine and promise to spoil myself. But the moment I see the first price tag, the spirit of penny-pinching possesses me. It’s a problem, Fadel. I need help,” Style admits, his tone dramatic.

Fadel laughs. “I’m buying the drinks for our next picnic… and any other occasion,” he promises.

*****

The book Style brought is boring and random, but Fadel doesn’t mind. He rests his head on Style’s lap, his eyes half-closed as Style reads aloud. Style’s voice is soothing, and the gentle way his fingers thread through Fadel’s hair transports him to a place of peace and comfort. For a while, Fadel simply gazes up at Style, admiring the way his long lashes flutter, the perfect slope of his nose, and the soft curve of his pouty lips.

When Fadel sits up and leans in to kiss him, Style is momentarily surprised but quickly melts into the affection, tugging Fadel closer by his t-shirt. The kiss is slow and tender, a quiet affirmation of their love.

Later, when Style takes his turn to rest his head on Fadel’s lap while being read to, he falls asleep almost immediately. Fadel chuckles softly, letting him nap while he listens to music and takes in the beauty of the park. His gaze keeps drifting back to Style, his heart swelling with affection.

When Style wakes, his eyes meet Fadel’s, and a smile spreads across his face. “I barely read a page, and you were gone,” Fadel teases.

“That book is so boring. How did you stay awake so long?” Style counters, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Why did you pick the one?”

“I don’t read, so I just walked into Dad’s bedroom and grabbed whatever was on his bookshelf,” Style admits, his tone sheepish.

Fadel kisses Style on the temple and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. Style leans back, resting against Fadel’s chest, his head settling comfortably on Fadel’s shoulder. His fingers absently draw patterns on Fadel’s hand.

“What do you actually like doing on picnics?” Fadel asks. “Apart from what the dating manual says.”

Style hums in thought. “Everything we did today, except the reading part,” he says with a grin.

“We don’t have to do everything lovers do,” Fadel says, resting his cheek against Style’s hair. “Just the parts we enjoy doing together.”

Style brings Fadel’s hand to his lips and kisses it. “The shenanigans were fun, though,” he giggles.

Fadel can’t deny that. Today was perfect, exactly the kind of life he pictures for them. “I wouldn’t want it or you any other way,” he murmurs quietly.

Style twists to look at him, his eyes soft. “Are you happy?”

Fadel nods, his heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Style replies, smiling as he leans in to kiss Fadel’s lips.

Chapter 2: Bubble Bath

Summary:

Amid candlelight, bubbles, and soft music, Style and Fadel share an intimate bubble bath as they discover new depths of love and connection.

The bathroom glows softly under the warm flicker of candlelight, the air filled with the soothing scents of lavender and eucalyptus. Flower petals float on the surface of the water, and there is soft RnB music spilling from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Style’s eyes widen as he takes it all in, his lips parting in exaggerated awe. He gasps, clutching Fadel’s hand tightly. “Fadel, this is… incredible.”

Fadel raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head at his boyfriend’s dramatic reaction. “You helped me put this together,” he deadpans, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Style pouts, his playful demeanor shining through. “What even is the point if neither one of us acts all touched and amazed by the romantic setting?”

Fadel watches him for a moment, his expression softening. He steps closer, cupping Style’s face gently and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “Fine,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Style grins, his cheeks flushing as he leans into Fadel’s touch. They stand there for a moment, hand in hand, taking in the scene they’ve created together. The flickering candles, the petals, the music- it’s all for them. Just them.

With slow movements, they help each other out of their clothes, their fingers brushing against skin as they undress. There’s no rush, just the quiet intimacy of the moment. Fadel’s hands linger on Style’s waist, his touch light but possessive, as if he still can’t believe this sweet, playful man is his. Style, in turn, traces the scar on Fadel’s chest, his touch reverent, as if he’s memorizing every inch of it.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them as they sink in. Style leans back against the tub, pulling Fadel against his chest. Fadel relaxes into the embrace, his head resting on Style’s shoulder as Style’s arms wrap around him. For a moment, they just exist, the tension in Fadel’s body melting away under Style’s touch.

“I’m gonna hit you with a line that they always use in porn whenever somebody wants to cop a feel.” Style announces

Fadel laughs, “Let’s hear it.”

“You’re so tense,” Style murmurs, his lips brushing against Fadel’s ear. “Let me take care of you today, okay?”

Fadel hums in response, still smiling and his eyes closing as Style’s fingers begin to knead gently at his shoulders. The water sloshes softly around them as Style works the knots out of Fadel’s muscles, his touch firm but tender. Fadel lets out a low, contented sigh, his body sinking deeper into the warmth of the bath and into Style.

“The massage is a lot better than that cheesy ass line from porn.” Fadel remarks

Style snorts out a laugh, “Thank goodness.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Style ends the massage and hugs Fadel close, kissing the shell of his ear

After a while, Fadel shifts, moving to the other end of the tub so they’re facing each other. Style hands him a glass of wine, their fingers brushing as Fadel takes it. They clink their glasses together, the sound soft and intimate, and take a sip. The wine is in good taste, and Fadel can’t help but smile as Style launches into a story about a British murder mystery TV show Kant recommended.

“Sherlock just mutters smartass shit to himself as he investigates, leaving us viewers feeling lost and dumb, begging his arrogant us to let us in on the damned investigation. Fucking annoying.”

Fadel chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That bad? You look so annoyed,” he teases

“I didn’t even get to the homicide jargon. By the third episode I was asking myself what audience the show is meant for. Folks with an IQ of 200?” Style rolls his eyes bitterly

Fadel laughs again, the sound rare and precious, and Style feels his heart swell. He loves seeing this side of Fadel. The side that’s relaxed, happy, and just a little bit playful. It’s a side he’s worked hard to draw out, and it’s worth every moment.

Style scoops up a handful of bubbles, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Hey, Fadel,” he says, his voice sing-song. Before Fadel can react, Style gently blows the bubbles toward him, a few landing on Fadel’s nose and cheeks. Fadel blinks, momentarily stunned, before a soft chuckle escapes him. He swipes at the bubbles, but Style is already reaching for more, his laughter filling the room.

“Challenge accepted,” Fadel says, his tone mock-stern. He gathers his own handful of bubbles and flicks them playfully at Style, who squeals and tries to shield himself. The two of them dissolve into laughter, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls as they playfully chase bubbles around the tub. For a moment, they’re carefree, in a way Fadel has never particularly known.

He had been carefree with his past lover, but in this way. They never had a bubble bath together.  Style has come to show Fadel so many more ways a couple can share a life together.

As their laughter subsides, Style reaches for a small tray of treats they’d set aside earlier, containing slices of juicy strawberries, ripe mango, and a few pieces of dark chocolate.

Fadel makes to reach for some fruit but Style holds the tray out of reach, shaking his head, “It’s only romantic when we feed each other.”

“Must everything be romantic?”

“Of course. Look around you.”

Fadel does look and well…he can’t argue.

 Style picks up a strawberry and holds it up to Fadel’s lips, his eyes soft and inviting. “Open up, krub” he says, his voice teasing but tender.

Fadel hesitates for a moment, momentarily flustered by the treatment, but he obliges, taking a bite of the strawberry. The sweetness bursts on his tongue, and he hums appreciatively. “I can taste the romance,” he says, picking up a slice of mango and holding it out to Style. Style leans forward, his lips brushing Fadel’s fingers as he takes the fruit, his eyes never leaving Fadel’s.

Style nods in assent as he chews, and they both laugh for no apparent reason.

They continue like this, feeding each other bites of fruit and chocolate, their movements unhurried.

Setting their wine glasses aside, Fadel reaches for the shampoo, lathering it between his hands before gently working it into Style’s hair. Style’s eyes close n, his head tilting back as Fadel’s fingers massage his scalp. It’s a simple act, but it feels like so much more to Style. It’s a gesture of their growing trust and intimacy.

When Fadel finishes rinsing Style’s hair, Style opens his eyes, his gaze soft and full of affection, but there is also a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He shifts around and straddles Fadel’s lap, the water sloshing around them as he wraps his arms around Fadel’s neck. Fadel’s hands instinctively settle on Style’s waist, his touch firm and grounding.

Style leans in, his lips brushing against Fadel’s in a slow, lingering kiss. Fadel responds immediately, his hands tightening on Style’s waist as he deepens the kiss.

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads resting together, Style smiles. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the music.

Fadel’s breath catches, his chest tightening with emotion. He’s not used to saying those words, but with Style, it feels different. Easier. “I love you too,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sincerity.

Style’s smile widens, and he leans in for another kiss, their lips meeting in a promise of more moments like this; quiet, intimate, and full of love.

Chapter 3: Shared Pages

Summary:

Fadel just wants to read his book in peace. Style just wants Fadel. They try to meet each other halfway

Style swings Fadel’s bedroom door open and finds him still reading. It’s the fourth time Style has come to check on him, and Fadel has been engrossed in that book for hours, barely glancing up. Style feels a pang of jealousy as he watches Fadel, his sharp eyes focused on the pages. Why won’t he look at me? Style thinks, his chest tightening.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him, and stands there for a moment with his hands on his hips. Finally, he sighs and walks over to the bed, crawling onto it and nestling into Fadel’s side. He throws an arm across Fadel’s stomach, resting his head on his shoulder.

Fadel looks down at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hi,” he says calmly

“Hi,” Style replies, his tone sweet but tinged with a pout. He nestles closer, pressing his cheek against Fadel’s shoulder, and feels a thrill when Fadel wraps an arm around him. But then Fadel goes right back to reading, his attention fixed on the book.

Style frowns, his jealousy flaring. He glares at the book, then up at Fadel’s serious expression. How can he be so focused? he thinks.

 Determined to get a reaction, Style buries his face in the crook of Fadel’s shoulder, pressing soft kisses against his skin. When that doesn’t work, the kisses turn wetter, more insistent, punctuated by gentle nips and sucks. He intertwines their legs, letting his hand skim temptingly across Fadel’s chest.

Fadel shifts slightly, a low rumble escaping his throat, but that’s it. No more. No reaction.

Style pulls back, tilting his head to stare at Fadel in disbelief. The fuck?!

 He lies back down on Fadel’s chest, his mind racing for another tactic.

“What book is this?” Style asks suddenly, his voice maliciously bright and curious since his intention is to disturb Fadel. “Is it the one with that character Clare who fucks one brother and marries another?” Before Fadel can even process the question, Style is already moving on, firing off four more rapid-fire questions about the books Fadel has read and told him about in the past. He shifts onto his back, talking a mile a minute, his hands gesturing wildly. At one point, he reaches up and flips the pages in Fadel’s book, deliberately making him lose his place.

Fadel sighs, a sound that’s equal parts exasperation and fondness. With practiced patience- an art he’s been forced to master since falling for the beautiful, chaotic whirlwind that is Style- he closes the book and sets it aside. He turns toward Style, lying on his side and pulling him close. His arm wraps around Style’s waist, and he kisses his forehead softly.

Style grins victoriously, his heart swelling with triumph. So easy, he thinks, settling more comfortably into Fadel’s embrace. They lie there in silence, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence.

“If you want my attention,” Fadel murmurs, his voice a low murmur against Style’s ear, “Just ask.”

Style’s gaze shoots up, meeting Fadel’s knowing eyes. He smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “That obvious?”

“You always animate whenever you want something,” Fadel replies, his tone teasing and tender.

“Oh,” Style says, his voice soft. He can’t help his habits, but he knows Fadel doesn’t mind. In fact, Fadel seems to adore every bit of his chaotic energy.

Fadel kisses the crown of Style’s head, his lips lingering as if savoring the moment. He closes his eyes, resting his head on the pillow, and Style feels a wave of contentment wash over him. For Fadel this quiet, normal intimacy is new. His life before Style was anything but normal; it was shadows and blood, a world where love and tenderness had no place. But now, with Style in his arms, he’s learning what it means to be soft, to be loved, to simply be.

Fadel has a newfound desire to share everything he loves with Style. They’ve cooked together, listened to music together and now he wants to lie here and read a book together. He’s heard that lovers do things like that together.

“Would you like to read this book with me?” Fadel asks, “I’ll read to you.”

Style tilts his head back to look up at Fadel, his eyes wide with surprise and delight. “Really?”

Fadel nods, his expression earnest. “I want you to be a part of everything I love.”

Those words touch Style’s heart profoundly, and he grins, his excitement clear. “Okay, let’s do it!”

They rearrange themselves on the bed, shifting until Style is sitting between Fadel’s legs, his back and head resting comfortably against Fadel’s chest. Fadel reaches for the book, opening it to where he’d left off, and wraps his free arm around Style’s waist, holding him close. Style sighs contentedly, feeling the warmth of Fadel’s body against his.

Fadel begins to read, his deep, smooth voice filling the room. Style closes his eyes, letting the words wash over him, but it’s not long before his natural curiosity gets the better of him. “Wait, wait,” he interrupts, sitting up slightly. “What does that mean? Why did Thorne say that? Is there, like, a hidden meaning or something? Imagine if it turned out that he’s liked his stepmom all along and so he killed his dad to be with her. What a family scandal.” He chortles

Fadel chuckles, his chest vibrating against Style’s back. “You’re supposed to be listening, not interrogating me.”

“I am listening!” Style protests, though his grin betrays him. “I just want to understand everything. It’s your favorite book, right? I want to love it as much as you do.”

Fadel’s heart aches at the sincerity in Style’s voice. He presses a kiss to the tip of Style’s nose. “You don’t have to love it,” he says softly. “I just want to share it with you. That’s enough.”

Style leans back against him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to be quiet. Keep reading.”

Fadel does, his voice steady and soothing as he reads aloud. Style tries his best to stay quiet, but every so often, he can’t help but interject with a question or a comment. Fadel doesn’t mind; in fact, he finds it endearing. Style’s enthusiasm is infectious, and it makes the experience of sharing something he loves even more special.

As the minutes pass, Style gradually relaxes, his questions becoming fewer and farther between. Eventually, he’s quiet, his breathing slow and even as he listens to Fadel’s voice. Fadel notices the change and looks down, a fond smile on his lips. Style’s eyes are closed, his expression peaceful, and Fadel realizes he’s fallen asleep.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Fadel closes the book and sets it aside. He adjusts their position slightly, lying back against the pillows and pulling Style closer. Style stirs but doesn’t wake up, his head resting on Fadel’s chest.

This is what Fadel has always wanted, not just the quiet moments, but the chaos, the laughter, the endless questions. Style has brought color to his life, a life that was once covered in darkness. And now, as he holds Style in his arms, Fadel knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Chapter 4: Couple T-shirts

Summary:

When Style plans a romantic fireworks date complete with matching couple t-shirts, Fadel hesitates at the idea of wearing a bright baby blue shirt.

“Oh, Fadel, why can’t you do this little thing for me?” Style whines, trailing behind Fadel into the kitchen of the restaurant.

Fadel waits until he’s placed his table-wiping dish on the countertop before turning to face Style. “Is it really necessary that I wear that shirt?” he asks, his voice calm but skeptical.

Style nods vehemently, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “Yes! It’s part of the experience!”

“Were there no other colors available? Like black?” Fadel raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ll look so cute in baby blue,” Style insists, grinning.

Fadel frowns. “I don’t want to look cute.”

“Too bad. I already bought the t-shirts,” Style says, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

Fadel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You should’ve asked me before buying tickets to the fireworks display and the t-shirts.”

Style crosses his arms, his expression turning miffed. “I was just trying to make plans with my boyfriend. Sorry.” The last word drops with a hint of indignation.

Fadel tilts his head, staring at Style with a mix of exasperation and affection. “Okay, I hear you. But we can just go in regular clothes, can’t we?”

“Couple clothes are part of the experience,” Style argues, stepping closer. “Fadel, you’re the one who said you wanted to do couple things together. This literally is what couples do.”

Silence stretches between them as Fadel considers this. Finally, he asks, “Does this really mean so much to you?”

Style’s face lights up. He cups Fadel’s face in his hands and plants a quick kiss on his lips. “It would make me so happy. I really want to share the full experience with you. Holding hands, watching the fireworks, eating ice cream, and wearing tacky couple t-shirts. Just imagine it.”

Fadel grimaces. “It sounds silly. And sticky.”

Style’s shoulders slump, and his grin fades. He steps back, his expression turning grumpy again. “Everyone there will be in couple clothes,” he mutters, trying one last time.

Fadel sighs, feeling a pang of guilt. He hates disappointing Style, but the idea of wearing a bright, colorful shirt feels so far out of his comfort zone. “I’ll pick you up later,” he says softly, hoping to end the conversation.

“Fadel…” Style pouts, his voice pleading.

Fadel leans in and kisses Style’s pouting lips, then gently shoos him away. “I have work to do now. I’ll see you tonight.”

Style walks off, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

****

Later, at his apartment, Fadel freshens up and gets ready for the evening. As he’s dressing, he spots the t-shirt Style brought him a few days ago, the baby blue one with colorful graffiti on the front. He picks it up, holding it at arm’s length as if it might slap him. The bright color feels like an assault on his senses.

Fadel tosses the shirt aside and reaches for his usual black one. But then he pauses, remembering the look of disappointment on Style’s face earlier, the hurt. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

To be fair, he thinks, Style should respect my preferences.

But then again…

Fadel reaches for the baby blue shirt again. It’s just a t-shirt. It won’t kill him to try this once for Style’s sake.

****

When Fadel shows up at Style’s house to pick him up, Style’s jaw drops. He stares at Fadel, half gasping, half laughing, as he covers his mouth with his hand. “You wore the T!” he exclaims, his eyes shining with delight.

Fadel chuckles at Style’s dramatic reaction and nods slightly. “Yeah, I did.”

Style grins, giving him two thumbs up. “You look fantastic wearing color.” He’s not even lying. Blacks, grays, and browns might be Fadel’s usual palette, but the baby blue doesn’t look bad at all. It complements Fadel’s baby-faced features. But he won’t say that last part out loud. It would only annoy Fadel.

“What changed your mind?” Style asks, still beaming.

Fadel shrugs, his voice soft. “It seemed important to you. And you’re important to me, so…”

Style’s heart swells. He steps closer, sliding his arms around Fadel’s neck and kissing him lingeringly on the lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs against Fadel’s mouth.

Fadel places his hands on Style’s hips, pulling him closer as he kisses back. Seeing Style this happy is all the reward Fadel needs for stepping out of his comfort zone. He realizes it feels better to make the man he loves happy than to stick rigidly to his own ways.

****

At the rooftop restaurant, they stand behind the railing, Style leaning back against Fadel’s chest. Fadel’s arms are wrapped around Style as they eat ice cream and watch the fireworks light up the sky. The explosions of color above them are mesmerizing, but Fadel finds himself glancing down at Style more often than not, taking in the way his face lights up with each burst of light.

They people-watch, laughing at other couples’ choice of matching outfits. They share quiet moments, standing in comfortable silence. And sometimes, they kiss softly and sweetly in a way that makes Fadel forget all about the silly t-shirt he’s wearing.

It’s perfect.

Chapter 5: Kissing In The Rain

Summary:

After a double date at the bowling alley, Fadel and Style get caught in the rain

The bowling alley doors slide shut behind them, the sound of laughter and clattering pins fading away. Fadel adjusts his jacket, glancing at his watch. It’s late, but not too late. They’ve left Kant and Bison behind to finish their game, claiming they need to head home because they have an early start for work the next day. Really, though, Fadel just wants some time alone with Style before the work week starts tomorrow.

Style is already a few steps ahead, his hand still loosely clasped in Fadel’s. He’s humming some upbeat tune, his usual energy somehow still on fire even after hours of bowling and chatter with their friends. Fadel can’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Style is ridiculous and entirely too much sometimes, but he’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

They stop short at the edge of the pavement. The parking lot is mostly empty, save for a few cars scattered under the dim glow of streetlights. Rain pours down steadily, pattering quite violently against the tarmac. Style tilts his head back, his face lighting up as he takes in the sight.

“Rain!” he exclaims, as if it’s the most exciting thing in the world. He squeezes Fadel’s hand once before letting go, stepping out into the downpour without hesitation.

Fadel blinks, stunned. “Style, what are you doing?” he calls, his voice sharp with disapproval. “Get back here!”

But Style doesn’t listen. He spreads his arms wide, tipping his face up to the sky. Raindrops cling to his hair and drip down his cheeks, but he’s grinning ear to ear. “So refreshing!” he shouts, taking a deep breath. “Come on, Fadel! Live a little!”

Fadel scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re going to get sick, you idiot. And so will I if I have to drag you out of there.”

Style laughs, the sound bright and carefree. He pushes his wet hair back from his face and plants his hands on his hips, grinning at Fadel. “A little rain won’t kill you. Come here!” he beckons playfully, curling his forefinger.

Fadel groans, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous Style is. But when Style doesn’t budge, Fadel finally gives in. He steps into the rain, the cold water soaking through his clothes almost instantly. “This is so stupid,” he grumbles, reaching for Style’s hand to pull him back to the pavement.

But Style resists, tugging Fadel closer instead. Before Fadel can protest, Style cups his face in both hands and kisses him. Fadel tenses, surprised by the suddenness of it and the uncomfortable sensation of rain beating down on his back. But then he relaxes, his hands sliding around Style’s waist as he kisses him back.

The kiss is short but sweet, and when Style pulls away, he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery. “See?” he says, threading his fingers through Fadel’s hair. “Not so bad, right?”

Fadel rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in it. “You’re a freaking menace,” he mutters, though he’s fighting a smile.

Style doesn’t give him a chance to say more. He kisses him again, and again, and again, each one quick and playful. Fadel can’t help but laugh, his hands trailing lower to rest on Style’s hips. “What are you doing?” he asks, even though he’s kissing back just as eagerly.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss my boyfriend in the rain,” Style says between kisses, his voice light and teasing. “Isn’t it romantic?”

Fadel snorts, but he’s grinning now, his earlier irritation completely forgotten. He pulls Style closer, deepening the kiss this time. The rain is cold, and their clothes are soaked, but Fadel doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Style’s lips feel against his, the way his hands are tangled in his hair, the way he’s laughing softly between kisses.

When they finally pull apart, Fadel rests his forehead against Style’s, breathing heavily. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words. He tips his head back, yelling at the sky in mock exasperation. “What have I become? What has this man done to me?”

Style laughs, the sound bright and infectious. He wraps his arms around Fadel’s neck, swaying gently as if they’re dancing. “Admit it,” he says, his voice soft now. “You love me.”

Fadel looks at him, his expression softening. “I do,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Style’s nose. “I really do.”

They stay like that for a while, holding each other in the rain. The world around them is quiet, save for the sound of the downpour and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Fadel knows they’ll regret this tomorrow when they’re both sneezing and exhausted at work, but right now, he doesn’t care. Right now, all that matters is the man in his arms, the man who’s turned his glum world upside down in the best possible way.

****

The next morning, Fadel and Style are curled up on the couch, wrapped in a thick duvet. Both of them are sniffling, their noses red and their voices hoarse. A bowl of steaming porridge sits on the coffee table in front of them, half-eaten.

“I told you we’d get sick,” Fadel mutters, his tone more amused than annoyed. He spoons a bit of porridge and holds it out to Style, who opens his mouth obediently.

Style swallows, then grins despite his stuffy nose. “Worth it,” he says, his voice raspy. “Best night ever.”

Fadel rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. He takes a bite of porridge himself, then sets the spoon down.

Style shifts closer, resting his head on Fadel’s shoulder. “I want to kiss you,” he begins, his voice soft. “Can I kiss you?”

Fadel raises an eyebrow, looking at him with mock seriousness. “You already got me sick.”

“Oh, right,” Style says, pretending to think it over. Then, without waiting for permission, he leans in and pecks Fadel’s lips. “Feel better,” he whispers, his breath warm against Fadel’s skin.

Fadel stares at him for a moment, trying to muster up some irritation. But he can’t. Instead, he smiles, shaking his head. “Feel better,” he says back, his voice gentle.

Style grins, snuggling closer under the duvet. “See? Even sick, you’re the best.”

Fadel chuckles, wrapping an arm around Style. “You’re still a riot.”

“And you love me for it,” Style says, his eyes closing as he relaxes against Fadel.

Fadel doesn’t argue. He just holds Style a little tighter, thinking that maybe being sick isn’t so bad when they’re in it together.

Chapter 6: The Art of Relaxation...& revenge

Summary:

Style and Fadel head out for a spa day and while there they encounter an upsetting situation. Style uses his sharp wit to turn the incident around to his advantage

Fadel and Style arrive at the spa hand in hand, the soft, calming floral scents greeting them as they step inside. The atmosphere is serene, with soft instrumental music playing in the background and the faint sound of water trickling from a decorative fountain.

Style’s eyes light up the moment they walk in, his face breaking into a huge smile. “I can already feel the stress leaving my shoulders and back just being in here,” he says, his voice full of excitement.

Fadel, on the other hand, feels a wave of unease wash over him. The environment is unfamiliar, and the idea of letting someone else put their hands on him in the massage segment of this spa thing makes him anxious. But he doesn’t say anything. He trusts Style, and if this is something Style wants to do, Fadel is willing to try. He’d do anything to make Style happy.

Style notices the apprehension in Fadel’s eyes almost immediately. He gently squeezes Fadel’s hand, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s okay. Let’s try it once. If you don’t like it, tell me, and we’ll leave right away, okay?”

Fadel nods, grateful for Style’s understanding. Normally, Style might have teased him or brushed off his nerves, but Fadel has been teaching him patience and respect. Style no longer wants to minimize Fadel’s struggles. Coming to the spa is a big deal for Fadel, and Style wants to be supportive.

Just then, Style’s phone rings. He checks the screen and frowns slightly. “It’s work. Let me take this. Wait for me,” he says, giving Fadel’s hand one last squeeze before stepping outside.

Fadel watches Style leave, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment. But before he can dwell on his nerves, someone steps in front of him, claiming his attention. “Good day, Khun,” the man greets politely. He’s dressed in what Fadel assumes is the spa uniform, a pair of navy blue scrubs with an embroidered badge. Fadel mutters a low reply and offers a small, polite smile.

The man introduces himself as Del and asks Fadel to follow him to the front desk. Fadel does so, feeling a bit out of place as Del begins asking him questions. “What brings you here today?”

Fadel hesitates, his words coming out awkwardly. “I’m here for… treatment,” he says, his voice stiff despite how in fact friendly Del seems

Del’s lips twitch, as if he’s trying not to smile at Fadel’s discomfort. “Alright, Sir. Welcome to SeeBliss,” he says, his tone still polite. He walks Fadel through some of the services they offer, asking for his name and whether he’s been to this spa before. Fadel answers as briefly as possible, his discomfort growing.

Del then hands Fadel over to a masseur named Pong. As Pong introduces himself, Fadel notices the man stepping closer subtly, his voice taking on a softer, more flirtatious tone. “So, what are you looking to achieve with this visit?” Pong asks, his eyes sparkling with interest.

Fadel is aware of the flirting but keeps his tone professional, not engaging more than necessary. He finds a way to casually mention that he’s here with his boyfriend, but Pong’s advances don’t let up.

Just as Fadel is starting to feel truly uncomfortable, Style walks back into the reception area. He stops short when he sees some guy leaning in close to Fadel. Style’s eyes narrow dangerously at the sight. His possessive side is triggered, and he strides over, intercepting the conversation. He kisses Fadel on the lips, his voice sweet but pointed. “Sorry I was gone for so long.”

Pong’s face falls, clearly disappointed. Style turns to look at him, his eyebrow lifting as he speaks to Fadel without taking his eyes off the other guy. “I hope this thirsty man-whore isn’t the one who’ll be putting his hands on you… or me.”

Pong’s jaw drops, scandalized. “Excuse me?!” he exclaims, his voice affronted.

“Did I say something wrong?” Style challenges, his tone calm but cutting. “You were flirting with my man.”

“You have no right-” Pong starts, but Style interrupts him.

“You were desperately flirting with someone else’s boyfriend, so automatically, that makes you a thirsty man-whore.” Style says matter-of-factly. “Are you running a brothel here?”

Pong’s face reddens, and he sputters, “You’re highly offensive, sir, and if you continue insulting me, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Before Fadel can join the argument, a woman rushes over, her polite smile firmly in place. She’s dressed in a lovely dress outfit, clearly the manager. “What seems to be the problem here?” she asks, her tone calm but firm.

“Your slutty staff was flirting with my boyfriend, and I don’t much like it.” Style says quickly.

The manager’s eyes narrow as she turns to Pong. “Is this true?” she demands.

Pong vehemently shakes his head. “It’s untrue, ma’am. This gentleman found me talking to his boyfriend about some of our products, and he misunderstood.”

“Why would I lie?” Style asks, his tone challenging.

The manager turns to Fadel. “Khun, did my staff make you feel uncomfortable in any way while speaking to you?”

Fadel nods, his expression serious. The manager exhales sharply, her tone hardening as she looks back at Pong. “This is unacceptable.”

Style smirks, seeing an opportunity. “You know what, madam, don’t bother. We’ll just leave. I came here hoping to relax, but this entire ordeal has my muscles more tense than when I walked in.” he glances at Fadel, “Let’s just call our friends and tell them we’ll be joining them at the bowling alley after all. We’ll tell them what happened here.”

The manager’s eyes widen in panic at the thought of her customers spreading negative word about her business. “Sir, please don’t leave,” she pleads. “This is just an unfortunate misunderstanding, and I deeply apologize.” She nudges Pong, who mutters a half-hearted apology.

“I’ll ensure I deal with my staff accordingly,” the manager continues. “But for your troubles, let me make it up to you. How about complimentary refreshments?”

Style pretends to deliberate, looking at Fadel, who lifts an eyebrow at him. “What do you think, Style? Should we stay?” Fadel asks quietly.

Style looks back at the manager, his expression softening slightly. “Do the refreshments include red wine? I like red wine.”

“Yes, with fresh fruit juice and finger foods as well,” the manager says quickly, her smile hopeful.

Style nods. “Well… I suppose that could help me feel better. But please ensure you check your employees.”

“Will do, sir. I’ll hand you over to someone else. I’m sorry again for the unpleasantness.”

Minutes later, Fadel and Style are in the changing room. Fadel suddenly smiles at Style but doesn’t say anything.

“What?” Style asks, feigning innocence.

“I saw what you did back there,” Fadel says, his tone amused.

Style shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It really hurt watching that punk flirt with you. I need all the comfort I can get.”

Fadel’s expression softens, and he closes the distance between them, taking Style’s hand. “That meant nothing. I didn’t even flirt back.”

“I know,” Style says. “But I’m vengeful, and I like free things.” He winks and pecks Fadel on the lips.

Fadel grins, shaking his head.

“So, are you ready for the spa treatment?” Style asks

The smile on Fadel’s face falters a little as he nods his head.

Style gently cups Fadel’s cheek, his voice softening. “It’s gonna be great. I promise.” He kisses Fadel once more, and they head into the treatment room.

The spa experience starts with a couple’s treatment, and Fadel takes a while to adjust. But Style is there to encourage him, holding his hand and reassuring him every step of the way. They only separate to lie on different beds for the final part, the massage. By now, Fadel is feeling more at ease, and the masseuse’s hands are gentle and soothing. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be.

When the treatment is over, Style hops off his bed, carefully wrapping a towel around his waist. He walks over to Fadel, who’s doing the same, and smiles. “How was it?”

“It was… refreshing,” Fadel admits. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Style’s smile widens, and he steps closer, gathering Fadel in his arms. Fadel can’t resist holding him close, his hands resting on Style’s waist. Style looks soft, relaxed, and radiant after the treatments, and Fadel feels a surge of affection for him. He kisses Style’s shoulder and neck, his lips lingering on the warm skin.

“I’m just grateful that you joined me at all,” Style says, his voice soft. He clings to Fadel, holding him close. “You did a great job today. I’m proud of you.”

Fadel chuckles, his arms tightening around Style. They take a shower together, stealing slow, lingering kisses under the warm spray. It’s a struggle to keep their hands off each other, but they remind themselves they’re in a public place.

After drying off and getting dressed, they head to the lounge to enjoy their complimentary refreshments. Style takes a few sips of his red wine, a satisfied smile on his face. “Don’t things taste extra good when they’re free?” he croons, his tone playful.

The server, who’s clearly aware of what’s going on, forces a polite smile. “If you need anything else, feel free to call,” he says before quickly leaving.

Fadel watches the server go, then looks at Style, his expression amused. “Stop picking fights with everyone.”

Style grins, popping a grape into his mouth. “I date a whole hitman. No matter what, I’m on the winning side.” He brings another grape to Fadel’s lips, feeding it to him with a playful wink.

Fadel wordlessly smiles at that. He knows Style’s antics are all in good fun, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. As they sit together, enjoying their refreshments and each other’s company, Fadel feels a deep sense of contentment.

So this is what happiness feels like, being with Style, no matter where they are or what they’re doing.

And for Style, this day couldn’t have been more perfect. He got to spoil Fadel, stand up for him, and enjoy some well-deserved relaxation- all while getting free wine and food. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

 

Chapter 7: Crashing the Vineyard

Summary:

Fadel and Style crash a wine tasting event

Fadel and Style arrive at the vineyard hand-in-hand, the warm sun casting a glow over the rolling hills of grapevines. They’re dressed casually but nicely. Fadel is in a crisp white button-down and dark jeans, Style in a fitted shirt and light khakis that show off his slim waist.

The vineyard is bustling with people, the air filled with the faint hum of chatter and the clinking of wine glasses. Fadel feels a sense of calm as they walk in, his hand firmly holding Style’s. Style, on the other hand, is already buzzing with excitement, his eyes darting around to take in everything.

“This place is gorgeous,” Style says, grinning as he looks around. “I feel rich and sophisticated already just being at a place like this.”

“Do you want us to come to places like this often?”

Style nods his head vehemently, “I love tormenting the wannabe rich folks who come to things like this in this town. I can’t wait to try all the wine.”

Fadel smiles, squeezing Style’s hand. “Just remember, it’s a tasting, not a drinking contest.”

Style laughs, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sip, swirl, spit. Got it.”

They approach a table with a group of people, and Fadel stops, expecting Style to take out their tickets but he doesn’t. He frowns when Style stands there looking at him like he’s wondering why they’re not proceeding. “Uh… I thought you had the tickets.”

Style grins, leaning in close. “We don’t have tickets. Besides, we already got in. The entrance was back there.” He gestures in the direction they just came from.

Fadel’s jaw drops. “What? How did we get in?”

Style shrugs, his grin widening. “We just walked in. No one stopped us.”

Fadel stares at him, momentarily speechless. But then he shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course we did. Why am I not surprised? You’re crazy.”

“Confidence is the essence of life. Probably no one pays attention to what’s happening at the gate because they don’t think anyone has the balls to walk in without paying.”

“Lo and behold Style.” Fadel says with a teasing grin and his boyfriend smiles proudly at him.

“Just so you know, your boyfriend is that guy that illegally got his friends into every place back in high school.”

‘Why are you saying that like it’s cool? You’re just a criminal.”

“Don’t throw stones in a glass house, baby. It’s bad manners.” Style laughs, pulling Fadel toward the tasting area. “Come on, let’s not waste this opportunity.”

They join a small group gathered around a table where a sommelier is explaining the different wines. Fadel listens intently, his hand still holding Style’s. Style, however, is more interested in the wine itself. When the sommelier pours a sample into his glass, Style takes a sip, swishes it around in his mouth, and then… swallows.

Fadel leans in, his voice a low whisper. “You’re supposed to spit it out, remember?”

Style looks at him, confused. “How do we get drunk then?”

Fadel stifles a laugh. “We’re not supposed to get drunk.”

Style raises an eyebrow. “Then what’s the point?”

Fadel pauses, unsure how to answer. “Well, it’s… give me a minute.” He quickly consults the brochure he picked up at the entrance, scanning the text. “It’s about appreciating the flavors, the aromas, the craftsmanship. It’s an experience, not a party….apparently.”

Style nods slowly, though he still looks skeptical. “Okay, but if I’m not getting drunk, I’m at least finishing my glass.”

Fadel shakes his head, amused.

“hm this one tastes like a raw banana peel, but it’s good.” Style mutters in delight

Fadel has so many questions about what Style just said, but can’t bring himself to ask.

As they move to the next tasting station, Style strikes up a conversation with an older couple standing nearby. With his usual friendly and casual tone, he launches into the colorful story of how he fell in love with a hitman.

“What was the lesson for me, you might ask?” Style pauses dramatically, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Prince Charming doesn’t always come in the form of a gay, blonde-haired, lip-gloss-wearing mama’s boy literally named Charming. Like that dude from Shrek. Nope, sometimes Prince Charming is just a gay, sexy former hitman named Fadel. He’s got this scary demeanor, but he can make a hamburger just as mean in his kitchen.”

Style gestures toward Fadel, who’s standing a few steps away, trying to look indifferent but failing to hide his faint smile. “Everybody, meet Fadel,” Style announces proudly.

The couple bursts into hearty laughter, clearly thinking Style is joking. Fadel shakes his head, his cheeks tinged with pink, but he doesn’t correct them. After all, Style’s stories are always half-truths wrapped in charm; and Fadel wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thereafter Style starts talking to a different couple about wine.

The couple smiles, clearly charmed by Style’s enthusiasm. They start talking about their favorite wines, and Style listens intently, nodding along and asking questions. Fadel stands back, watching with a mix of amusement and admiration. Style has a way of making everyone feel at ease, even if he’s technically crashing the event.

At one point, Style turns to Fadel, holding up his glass. “Try this one. It’s amazing.”

Fadel takes a sip, savoring the rich, fruity flavor. “It’s good,” he admits, smiling at Style. “But remember, spit it out.”

Style grins, leaning in to whisper, “Or I could just kiss you and share it.”

Before Fadel can respond, Style presses his lips to Fadel’s in a quick, playful kiss. Fadel’s cheeks flush, but he can’t help but smile. “Style! What the hell?!,” he says, though there’s no real annoyance in his voice.

As the afternoon goes on, Style continues to charm everyone around him, from the sommeliers to the other guests. At one point, he even convinces a group of strangers to join him in a toast, raising their glasses with a loud, “Cheers!”

Fadel watches it all with exasperation and affection as well actually. Style is a riot, but he’s his riot. And despite the chaos, Fadel can’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness. He loves seeing Style being himself.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm, its golden light spilling over the vineyard, Fadel takes Style’s hand and leads him to a quiet spot overlooking the vines. They sit together on a bench, their shoulders touching, as they watch the sky turn shades of pink and orange.

“This was fun,” Style says, leaning his head on Fadel’s shoulder. “Even if we didn’t get drunk.”

Fadel chuckles, wrapping an arm around Style. “It was. You made it fun for me. And everyone else really.”

Style looks up at him, his eyes soft. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Fadel smiles, brushing a strand of hair from Style’s face. “I tend to feel like an underpaid babysitter but it’s not bad.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, the world around them fading away. Then Style turns to Fadel, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So… do you think we could sneak a bottle of wine on our way out?”

Fadel laughs, incredulous. “Now you’re a thief too?”

Style grins, “Oh there is a lot I haven’t told you about my past adventures.” He leans in to kiss Fadel again. This time, it’s slower, sweeter, filled with all the love and affection they share.

 

Chapter 8: Rewind Romance

Summary:

Fadel plans a perfect drive-in date. Style falls asleep, the movie’s a snooze, and somehow it’s still the best night ever.

Fadel's Jeep is parked at the back of the drive-in lot, the speakers crackling as the old black-and-white film begins. Style bounces in his seat, already tearing into the snack bag Fadel packed.

"Homemade caramel popcorn?" Style shoves a handful in his mouth. "You're spoiling me."

Fadel adjusts the volume. "It's just popcorn."

"Just popcorn," Style mimics, kicking his feet onto Fadel’s lap. "Says the man who seasoned it with, what is this, cinnamon? Fancy."

“I noticed that all the snacks are suspiciously on your lap, Style.” Fadel lifts an eyebrow at Style.

Style looks down at his lap then back at his boyfriend, “Oh.” He grins, “Sorry.” But instead of handing Fadel an entire packet of snacks, he just opens one and takes out one chip, holds it up,

"Try one?" he mumbles through a full mouth

Fadel hesitates, then leans forward. Style grins and feeds him the chip, fingertips brushing Fadel's lips.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Style's excited chatter slows. His head bobs once, twice, then drops onto Fadel's shoulder.

Fadel smiles but doesn't move. The film's dialogue drones on as Style's breathing evens out against his arm.

When the credits roll, Fadel gently shakes him. "Movie's over."

Style jolts awake. "What? No-" Then he groans, blinking blearily. Rubbing his eyes, he asks, "Who won?"

"We’re not at a sports event, but I suppose the couple won. They kissed in the end."

"Ugh. Predictable." Style stretches...then freezes when he realizes he’s somehow migrated from the window to Fadel’s shoulder

“Hard to believe that all that banter between the couple was only leading up to one peck on the lips.” Fadel shakes his head.

Style laughs and then sighs, "Damn it, I missed the whole thing."

Fadel shrugs. "Wasn't that good anyway."

"You're just saying that."

"Maybe." Fadel leans in and kisses his temple. "But I nodded off too. Twice I think."

Style blinks, then laughs. "Our first drive-in date and we both slept through it."

“We can do this drive-in movie thing again if you want.”

“Promise me it’ll have color and more action than a duck-lipped kiss.”

“I promise.” Fadel stretches his arm across the back of the seat behind Style's head. "Movie's over, but the night doesn't have to be."

Style's fingers curl into Fadel's shirt. He tugs him down into a slow, deep kiss. Fadel's hand finds Style's waist as the Jeep's interior light flickers off, leaving them in warm darkness.

Neither mentions leaving. The movie may have been dreadful and forgettable, but this is a pretty stellar way to end the night.

It’s perfect.

 

-END-

Chapter 9: Orion’s Belt & Other Lies

Summary:

Style drags Fadel to the rooftop for stargazing. Style "discovers" absurd constellations, Fadel pretends to hate it, and they end up trading kisses instead of astronomy facts

Notes:

I couldn't resist writing the latest two drabbles today and share right away. I miss FadelStyle, guys. Anyway, this double-update marks the end of this "Firsts" collection.
I had fun writing and I sure hope you guys have had fun reading. Thanks for all the love you've given these little stories:)

Fadel drags the old patio blankets up the fire escape, the metal steps creaking under his weight. Style follows close behind, a six-pack dangling from one hand while the other grips the railing for balance.

"Remind me why we can't just look at stars from the ground like normal people?" Style huffs, nearly tripping on the last step.

Fadel tosses the blankets onto the restaurant's flat roof with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Because you'd complain about neck cramps in five minutes."

Style flops down beside him, the roof's gravel crunching under his weight. He pops open two beers with his keychain bottle opener and hands one to Fadel. "You know me too well."

The city lights drown out most stars, but a few stubborn ones twinkle overhead. Style points at a cluster. "Look! That one's a spatula."

Fadel turns his face away, but Style sees his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"Don't laugh at my astronomy skills," Style whines, nudging Fadel's ribs with his elbow. "That's definitely a kitchen utensil constellation."

Fadel takes a long swig of beer to hide his smile. "That's Orion's Belt."

"Boring." Style scoots closer until their shoulders press together, the warmth between them a contrast to the cool night air. "Mine's better. At least I get to see you smile."

Fadel can’t deny that.

A breeze rolls over the roof, making Style shiver. Without a word, Fadel lifts the edge of the blanket and tucks it around Style's legs, his fingers lingering just a moment too long on Style's knee.

Style grins and rests his head on Fadel's shoulder, his breath warm against Fadel's neck.

“Is this going as well as you thought it would?” Fadel asks, looking at Style who then meets his gaze.

“It’s not bad, but I think I’d much rather gaze at you now.” Then Style closes the distance, his lips meeting Fadel's in a slow, beer-flavored kiss that makes Style's toes curl.

When they pull apart, Style doesn't go far. He brushes his nose against Fadel's, their foreheads touching. "Missed you today," he murmurs, though they'd seen each other just hours ago at the restaurant.

Fadel's hand finds Style's under the blanket, their fingers intertwining. "You watched me work for an unhealthy length of time in my kitchen a few moments ago."

"Yeah," Style says with a smile, squeezing his hand. "My favorite part of the day."

Fadel rolls his eyes but pulls him closer anyway, until Style's half in his lap.

“Are you having a good time stargazing, Fadel?”

“It’s hard to understand the allure but I’ll do anything with you once.”

It’s Style’s turn to affectionately roll his eyes, “Says the guy who won’t even try to get me pregnant once.”

 

-END-

Notes:

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