Archive of Our Own

Chase wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when he opened his dorm room door at 2am on a Thursday night. His roommates had keys, most of his friends were only up if they were cramming because it was a Thursday, and there were classes tomorrow, and he could think of no earthly reason anyone else would be knocking on his door at 2am that would mean anything good for him.

But he still opened the door, leaning into the doorframe to frown into the hall, mouth half-open to tell whoever it was he wasn't interested in any girl scout cookies, before he realized who he was staring at.

Anti looked like he'd been through at least eight hours of clubbing. He was in what was obviously not meant to be a hanging-around-the-house outfit, some super short baggy shirt that probably qualified as a crop top and torn-off black jean shorts over what looked like fishnet stockings of all things. All he was missing was another black leather choker and he'd look the picture of a goth club rocker.

But considering he was also missing shoes, Chase was inclined to believe he'd just taken off the choker somewhere along the course of the night.

And it looked like it'd been a hell of a night. His hair was a mess, stuck up at odd angles, like someone had rucked through it with their fingers, and there was a long tear along the inside of his tight-weave stockings that led all the way up under his shorts. There were dark circles under his eyes - in itself not that odd for what he knew of him. But the redness around his mismatched eyes was definitely a look he hadn't personally seen on him before, and he looked like he was ten minutes from crashing hard.

He looked like shit.

Okay, no, he still looked incredible, even all fucked up like that. But he looked like he'd been through shit at least.

What was he doing here? Chase hadn't seen him once since the party weeks ago, when the Irish student had dragged him up to his room to have way more fun than he'd been expecting at that particular party. Chase hadn't managed to drag the guy off to breakfast the next morning, but he'd managed to get his number at the very least, which had felt like a hell of accomplishment at the time. Especially considering the fact that Anti had actually answered his texts on several occasions.

He'd turned down any casual attempt Chase had made to get back together again after that, more often than not just completely ignoring them. But he still talked with him now and then. Usually about stupid memes and shit Chase sent him, but it was something at least. Chase had been pretty confident they were at least building a bit of a relationship, a friendship if nothing else. Anti was a little hard to figure out, but he was getting there.

He had not expected Anti to just show up at his place.

How did he even know where his dorm was?

"Wha-"

"Take me to get waffles."

Chase blinked. And then blinked again. And wow, Anti was really good at just shutting him the fuck right up, wasn't he? His voice sounded like shit too, rough and scratchy, like he'd been yelling too long, or he was starting to get sick, and Chase floundered for a moment as he tried to process all of that.

"Uh. Waffles?" he managed weakly, still trying to catch up.

Anti's face pulled up into something irritated. "You said there was a waffle place you wanted to show me."

"Oh." The breakfast place. The one he'd tried to drag Anti off to the morning after their night together. The one he'd also gushed about over text a few times none too subtly.

The one that was owned by a sweet little older couple who definitely didn't run it late night.

"Uh, it's- it's not open right now."

Anti's lips pressed together into a hard line, curling up in a tight smile before he snorted harshly. "Of course it's not," he laughed, rolling his eyes and turning on his heel, something strained in his voice as he started back down the hall again. "Obviously."

It took Chase a moment to realize he was just . . . leaving.

"Woah- wait!" He stumbled out after him, cursing as he jammed his toe on the doorframe and nearly tumbled right into his neighbor's door. "Anti, hold up, wait, wait."

Anti didn't look back, but he stopped easily enough when Chase got a hand on his shoulder, tugging him back and bringing them both to a stop in the middle of the quiet hallway. Anti didn't look at him when Chase ducked around to face him, his eyes stubbornly on a spot on the wall a ways away, and Chase struggled for a moment as he realized he had no idea what he'd wanted to say.

His first instinct was to ask him what was wrong. Because something was obviously wrong. He wasn't sure if something had happened, or if he was just having a bad night, but this wasn't a casual "I kinda want waffles" kind of thing.

But then, Chase was pretty sure the second the words "you okay?" were out of his mouth, Anti would walk his pretty ass right out of his dorm, and probably right out of his life, because that just seemed the kind of guy he was.

"We could, uh, we could go to Waffle House or some-"

"I didn't come here for fuckin' Waffle House," Anti cut him off, something sharp and brittle in his voice, and Chase rolled on the balls of his feet as he tried to think of something else on the fly.

Not really his greatest strength.

"Okay, no, yeah, the Waffle House sucks, you're right," he mollified, swallowing as he glanced up at the ceiling, like he could find something better there. "Cold eggs and burnt hashbrowns and shit, and the druggies are gonna be there. And their waffles taste like cardboard, don't they? I'm pretty sure I could make better waffles and I don't even- oh, oh, shit, I could make you waffles, there's a waffle maker in the dorm, dude, I could totally-"

"You're gonna make me waffles?" Anti asked in a disbelieving voice. But he'd turned to look at him, his blue eye standing out sharply under one of the hall lights, and his lip was turned up in something almost like amusement.

"Yes, yep, I'm totally making you waffles, come on-"

Anti let him drag him back towards his dorm, much to Chase's surprise, not saying a word as the American led him into the small front room. The muted glow from the TV was the only source of light, pulsing softly on the pause screen of the video game Chase had been fooling around with and illuminating the sparse living room and tiny kitchen area.

It wasn't until he'd locked the door behind him, glancing up to catch sight of Anti turning slowly to take in the little community area with his fingers shoved in the front pockets of his ripped shorts, that Chase's brain finally caught up to events.

Anti was in his dorm. After all the time Chase had spent trying to convince him just to see him again, Anti was here, in his front room, at 2 AM, when the only roommate home was the one that slept like the goddamn dead.

Chase cleared his throat as a nervous little thrill ran up his spine at the thought.

"Okay, uh," he started, stepping backwards towards the tiny kitchen area and waving vaguely in the direction of the couch. "You can just, you know, sit wherever, get comfortable, and I'm'a figure out the magic of waffles."

Anti made a disbelieving noise, and there was something familiarly fluid about the way he rolled his eyes and strolled into the kitchen instead.

"Do you even know how t'make waffles?"

"I have never made a waffle in my life," Chase admitted honestly, grinning awkwardly as he edged around Anti to reach the cupboard where he was pretty sure he'd seen the waffle mix last. "But how hard could it be, right?"

"Sure," Anti said. "Blowjob says yeh burn the first one."

Chase choked, trying to cover the sound with a cough, but the snort from behind him said he'd probably failed.

"How old is that mix?" Anti asked as Chase managed to fumble it out of the top of the cupboard, nearly dropping the dusty red box right onto his bare toes.

"Uhhhhhh, iiiiiiiiiiiit's, no, it's still good!" Chase declared with a grin, turning on his heel to show Anti the faded best-by date. Only Anti had decided to hop up onto the other counter and was currently leaned back to look idly in one of the cupboards he'd opened, the one with all the mismatched glasses in it, and Chase was immediately distracted by the pretty line of his throat, and the way his shorts dug into the soft skin of his stomach.

"Got syrup too, I guess?" Anti asked, grabbing one of the colorful plastic cups with a pizzeria logo on it and leaning the other way to fill it with water from the sink, never leaving his little perch on the counter, and Chase was just . . .

God, he'd forgotten how gorgeous he was. Not that he could really forget forget, but his memory had definitely not been doing him justice. His legs were smooth and pristine under the fishnets, light indents of the muscles of his thighs clear below the line of his shorts as he balanced on the counter, and Chase could just see the faint ridges of his ribs under his crop top. And then Anti looked back at him, and he was all caught up in that sharp smile and his mismatched eyes, and he had to be making a dumb face because Anti laughed at him.

"You in there, frat boy?" the Irishman asked, and Chase laughed and ran a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, you- uh . . . you look-" reign it in, Brody "-were you out clubbing on a Thursday, man?"

"Maybe," Anti shot back, before shrugging and propping one stocking-clad foot up on the counter, sipping at his water. "Nah, Thursdays aren't busy enough to get lost in, yeh know?"

"Uh huh." There was a tear in Anti's stockings that went all the way up under his shorts, and Chase decidedly did not stare. "You just dress like that."

"I just dress like this," Anti confirmed, but there was something distant in his voice, and Chase decided immediately to drop it.

It didn't matter anyway.

Chase set the box on the other counter, adding the unopened bottle of syrup from the cabinet as well before turning back for the waffle maker. There wasn't an oven in the dorm, of course, and open hotplates weren't allowed, which probably meant waffle makers weren't technically allowed either. But in just about every dorm there seemed to be one mom or aunt or grandparent who thought a waffle maker was a great college gift, and theirs was no exception, even if it had never been used before.

Thank god for Bing's uncle, huh? Chase's teeth dug into his lip as he dug the abandoned waffle maker out from the tiny side cabinet and hefted it up onto the counter, cringing at the thin layer of dust on it. Should he wash it first? It was closed, so it wasn't like the dust would have gotten on the iron. Maybe just a quick rinse? Or were you not supposed to get water on it? Was water bad for waffle irons?

Why had he spent the last 21 years of his life on this earth not learning anything about how to use a stupid waffle maker?

"You have no idea what to do with that, do you," Anti asked with a smile like the cat that got the mouse, and Chase held up a finger, pointing at him without looking away from the little appliance.

"No, but I'ma figure it out."

Anti groaned again. "I'm surrounded by amateurs," he complained, shaking his head and taking a long drink of water.

"Okay, look, it's not gonna be Sara's-chicken-and-waffles good, but I'm gonna make you some waffles, okay?"

"That's missing an entire half of that recipe."

"I don't have any chicken, man! I woulda bought some if- oh, wait, actually." Chase cut himself off, turning around to pop open the freezer and rummaging through the mess of hot pockets and the five bags of broccoli they were never going to eat. "I think we haaaaaaave- yeah, here!"

He pulled out the half-empty bag of chicken nuggets, and turned back to Anti.

"We can still do chicken and waffles," he said with a triumphant grin, rocking back on his heels to nudge the freezer closed with his elbow.

"Are those chicken nuggets?" Anti asked, confused, leaning forward slightly, his lip curling up a little as he squinted. "Hang on, are those- are you-"

He swung off the counter, the look on his face going from slightly baffled to incredulous, a disbelieving smile cutting under wide eyes.

"Brody, are those dinosaur chicken nuggets?"

Chase looked down at the familiar package, frowning. "Yeah?" he asked, looking back up to watch as Anti crept into his space. "Bing says they taste different than the regular kind."

"You- oh my god, Brody," he said, suddenly urgent, his hands coming up to press against Chase's cheeks and make him look him in the eye. "Brody, you don't think they taste different, do you?"

"I mean. I don't eat chicken nuggets that often, but, like, they do kinda-"

"Oh my god," Anti cut him off. And then again, with feeling, "oh my god," before Anti was doubled over, hands falling to Chase's shoulders, and laughing like he'd never heard him laugh before.

He was laughing, like, really laughing, like how real people laughed when they couldn't help it, not that cutting laugh he usually did, the one that sounded like he'd thought about it before he actually decided to laugh. This was loud, and uncontrolled, and completely lacking that usual bite. One of Anti's hands slipped down to press against his chest instead as he doubled over further, gasping for breath, and Chase reached up to wrap his fingers loosely around that wrist and just listened to the sound of Anti losing his shit to some joke Chase wasn't really getting.

"Of fucking course you eat dinosaur chicken nuggets," Anti gasped when he finally came up for air. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away with his knuckles, still stuttering around laughter, and it was possibly the prettiest thing Chase had seen in a long time. "Never made waffles and yer gonna feed me dinosaur chicken nuggets, I swear to god."

Anti managed to look up at him, eyes shining, and Chase offered him a confused smile, which just seemed to set him off all over again.

"I mean, we can just do waffles if you want," Chase offered, letting his thumb rub absently over the skin on the inside of Anti's wrist as the Irishman leaned into him to laugh harder. His face was warm where he was pressing his cheek against Chase's collarbone. "But dinosaur chicken nuggets are freakin' delicious man."

"Oh god," Anti gasped between laughing breaths, turning to press his forehead hard against Chase's sternum before leaning back on his heels again. "Yeah, no, please show me the wonders of dinosaur chicken nuggets."

"I don't think you're giving dinosaur chicken nuggets the respect they deserve," Chase hedged, and Anti made a strangled sound and snatched the bag out of Chase's hands.

"Oh my god, give me this. What fucking temperature are they s'posed to be at?"

It turned out waffles were harder than he thought.

He didn't burn the first one, but he did manage to make an absolute mess. Apparently, the waffle iron needed to be "lubed" first, as Anti called it, and he'd opened it too early, making a sticky mess of random waffle bits that probably still tasted good, but Chase wasn't about to press his luck.

But it didn't take that long for him to figure it out. It was only a little past 3am by the time he had two fair-sized golden waffles on plates for the both of them, dinosaur chicken nuggets littered around the edges wherever they could fit. Anti rearranged his so that a t-rex was facing some leaf-eating dinosaur as it ran away, something that made him grin that big toothy grin he did, and Chase resisted the urge to point out that he wasn't complaining about dinosaur chicken nuggets now, was he?

"You got any honey?" Anti asked as Chase dug through their knick-knack drawer for two sets of take-away utensils.

"Uhhhh, I don't know. Check the cabinet above the stove?" He'd managed to find two mismatched utensil sets before he thought about the request. "Wait, what do you need honey for?"

Anti was leaning over the stove, up on his toes stretching to reach a jar of honey just visible behind two bottles of soy sauce. "Because I'm not a heathen," the Irishman shot back, muttering a curse as one of the soy sauce bottles teetered dangerously, and Chase stepped up without thinking about it.

"Here," he started, leaning over him to reach up towards the little glass jar before he realized - he wasn't really any taller than Anti. And he'd stepped behind him, so he was farther away. And he'd stepped behind him so now he was almost pressing him up against the counter, and-

"Hello," Anti said in a voice that was more like a purr than anything, a smile clear in his tone. Chase glanced down to find his green eye peering up at him over his shoulder, a hint of teeth behind the curl of his lips, and Chase laughed nervously, taking a single step back before Anti turned around and hooked strong fingers into his waistband, stopping him in his tracks.

"Uh," Chase said stupidly, blinking for a moment, hoping the warmth on his cheeks wasn't showing red. "Hi?"

And Anti laughed at that, something clear and mean and a little breathless, reaching up to put his hands on either side of Chase's face again, holding him still as he leaned closer.

"God, you're adorable," he said with a grin, and Chase had about enough brain cells functioning to know he should probably say "thank you" before Anti cut them all off by kissing him.

Chase liked kissing. He remembered when he was still a teenager and figuring shit out that kissing had been fairly gross - spit and tongue and mouths doing weird things - but man, once he got the hang of it, it was nice. He liked how close you had to be to kiss, he liked the way girls tended to put their arms around him, run their fingers up his back or through his hair, he liked how sometimes you'd be kissing and you'd bump noses and it'd be funny so you'd laugh into the shared space between you and there'd be that kind of bubbly feeling in your throat before you went back to making out that made everything lighter and warmer.

Anti didn't laugh into his kisses. He didn't bump noses, and he didn't run his fingers through his hair. He kissed like it was his singular focus, like everything else was unimportant, and the only thing that mattered was opening his lips and tasting and moving and breathing. The hands on the sides of his face shifted, one falling down to fist into Chase's shirt, like he still thought he needed to keep him there, and the other fisting into the short hairs on the back of his neck, holding him steady as he kissed him slow and hot and focused.

Chase wasn't sure he'd ever been kissed like that. Like- well, honestly he wasn't sure exactly how to describe what it was like, but like that. Anti was warm and strong and supple against him, arching easily into him as Chase had to shift to catch his balance. Anti leaned harder into his touch when Chase's hands found him, palms sliding up over his bare sides, and he caught the sound Chase let out against his lips.

"Adorable," Anti repeated, when he'd finally pulled back and Chase had spent more than a second or two trying to catch his breath and his brain cells.

"Thanks," Chase finally managed, a little breathless and slow, and Anti's face split into a grin, a short huff of laughter escaping his mouth.

"That should be illegal," Anti said, putting a hand on Chase's chest with just enough pressure to push him back a step or two.

"What should?"

"That stupid face you make."

"I made a stupid face?"

"You do all the time."

"Wait, what kind of stupid face?"

Anti laughed. He'd turned back around, hooking a hand into the edge of one of the hanging cabinets next to the stove and yanking himself up to kneel on the counter. Chase was momentarily distracted by the stripe of skin between his jeans and his crop top, forgetting he'd been asking a question in the first place.

"That one," Anti snorted, and Chase jumped, looking up to see Anti shuffling around to face him from his perch, honey jar in one hand. He leaned back against the cabinet behind him, slouching a little to jut out his hips, and hooking his free thumb into the waistline of his shorts, hitching them down just enough to show his hipbone.

Chase swallowed and Anti laughed again.

"Yeah, there yeh go. Just fuckin' lost, aren'tcha? Full deer in the headlights mode."

"I- dude, have you seen yourself?"

Anti scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning harder into the cabinets, the little grin slipping slightly on his face, before he looked back at Chase and grinned anew.

"Waffles are gonna get cold," he said, swinging his legs around to sit on the counter, feet dangling off, obviously about to jump down, and Chase's brain managed to partially untangle itself.

"Wait, can I just-" he started, stepping up into the space Anti made him between his legs. His hands felt clumsy when he reached up to cup Anti by the jaw, titled his face just a little farther towards him, and Anti laughed and rolled his eyes again.

"What, that wasn't enough for you?" the Irishman laughed, mismatched eyes hooded.

"No," Chase said, shaking his head and leaning in closer, one hand falling to run smoothly up Anti's arm. "I just like kissing you."

Anti's face fell again, something confused and a little . . . what had he called it? Lost? He blinked, and the hooded eyes and the coy looks were gone, and it was just a young man sitting on his counter, looking at him like he didn't understand.

Chase wasn't so great at explaining things, so he just leaned in and kissed him instead.

He kissed him slower this time, softer, tilting Anti's face to fit just perfect in his hand and brushing his thumb absently along his cheek. Anti's lips parted, as if he was going to kiss back, but instead they just stayed like that, frozen, the slightest hitch of a breath in, and then again, stronger, when Chase's hand made its way over his shoulder and along the back of his neck.

The ghost of tongue along his bottom lip seemed to wake up him, a rush of breath out, followed by a hand reaching up - fumbling - to grab at where Chase still held his jaw. Not pulling, just holding there as he started to kiss back, stilted, and then better. His other hand wrapped around the back of Chase's neck in turn, tugging, pulling the athlete with him as he leaned farther back on the counter. One of his legs came up to wrap around Chase's waist, holding him there, and his breath hitched sharply when Chase groaned.

"Sorry," Chase laughed, brushing his nose along Anti's cheek. "You're just-"

"Shut up," Anti snapped, breathless, and dragged him back into the kiss, teeth finding his bottom lip and biting before he soothed it over with his tongue. Chase made an embarrassing noise at that, the hand on Anti's side squeezing before he smoothed it out, brushing a thumb over the spot in apology.

Anti didn't seem to care. He'd gone from passive to in it quickly, his hand slipping down the back of Chase's shirt to rake blunt fingernails over his shoulder blades, his other hand getting back into Chase's hair and twisting to put his face right where he wanted it.

"Where's your stupid hat," Anti asked, pulling Chase's hair until he got the memo and titled his head back, baring his throat to Anti's teeth.

"By the- ah, by the sofa," he breathed, grabbing at the counter to stabilize himself as Anti sucked a mark into his neck. "I was, fuck-"

Anti released his grip, freeing Chase to come back down to kiss him again, although significantly less coordinated this time. His mouth was open and hot and wet, and Chase couldn't decide where he wanted his hands, sliding one up his side, and then into his hair, and then down his neck, just wanting to touch.

It took his brain several seconds to catch up when Anti started working on his jeans.

"Wait, wait," Chase managed, pulling away and struggling to catch a breath. Anti had gotten the button undone and the zipper down, his hands tugging at the waistband to give him some room. "Wait, not in the- jesus- not out here, my roommate-"

"Then be quiet," Anti snapped back, kissing him again, and Chase pulled back weakly, struggling to get a breath and a chance to speak.

"Ant-i- ah- ah," he gasped against Anti's jaw, leaning towards him like he was his new center of gravity as Anti's hand wrapped warm and soft over his boxer-clad dick.

"God you're hard, look at you," Anti said breathlessly, fingers working his dick through the slit in his boxers expertly. He cupped his hand under the hot line of his dick, cradling it there as he spread his fingers out under it. "Wanna see you cum on me."

Chase's brain shortcircuited, some choked sound catching in his throat before he managed another breath in. "J- . . . Jesus, Anti-"

"Weren't you supposed to be quiet?" Anti panted, and Chase bit his lip, tucking his face down so he didn't have to look at Anti's pretty face.

Except now he had a perfect view of the way Anti's slim fingers slipped around his cock and stroked.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, ah."

"Not very quiet," Anti teased, but there was no edge to his voice, something else wrapped up in it that sounded closer to awe.

"I- can't-"

"Yeah, you can."

He probably could. Probably, but this was such a bad idea, they were in the middle of the kitchen, his roommate's door was barely on the other side of the living room, and had a clear view to the kitchen. Fuck, he couldn't even remember if he'd locked the front door, and he really didn't want to be caught with his pants down and his dick out, but fuck, this was so much hotter than it had any right to be.

Anti stroked firmly over him, pausing near the top to swipe a dollop of precum over the head with his thumb, and Chase lost the fight with his rationality and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Anti seemed to like that, a ragged little sound catching in his throat, before he stroked faster, and Chase leaned his forehead into his shoulder, letting him take some of his weight as he just felt.

He didn't even really like handjobs, but god, he loved this. Anti's fingers were just right around him, tight and smooth, stroking over him confidently. His other hand was running up under Chase's shirt, pressing up over his stomach where it jumped in time with his strokes, and farther over his chest and up to his neck. Chase's forehead slipped farther down, the hand not clasped firmly over his mouth fumbling for purchase on Anti's shoulder to hold himself up, and Anti made some soft sound, something like a laugh, breathless and wondering, and Chase shuddered and tried not to make an absolute idiot out of himself.

He thought he didn't do bad, considering. He wasn't sure how long it was before he felt that pull behind his naval, making an urgent noise behind his hand in some kind of warning as Anti tightened his grip, but it wasn't the quickest he'd ever been.

Anti arched up under him, stretching out so his shirt rode up higher, baring more skin for him, and Chase parted his fingers just far enough to spit out a garbled, "Fuck, that's pretty," before he tumbled over the edge, pressing his hand down harder over his mouth as he groaned roughly into it.

This was going to be burned into his skull for years. The way Anti arched up under him, pretty skin all out to see, the outline of his hard dick clear under his tight jean shorts. The way his stomach jumped as a line of cum splattered over it, hot, and curving with the lines of his body, quickly followed by another, and another. The way he sucked in a little gasp, a soft sound of interest, and then he was reaching up to pull Chase's hand away and catch the sounds he was still making with his mouth.

Chase felt useless in the kiss, but he did his best. His skull felt empty, just full of cotton and water, warm and loose and soft, and he fumbled to give some kind of adequate attempt back, opening his mouth and finding a small whine trapped there, much to his embarrassment.

Anti laughed at that, that soft laugh he'd done earlier, and Chase pulled back far enough to shove his head into his neck.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered in a rough voice, and Anti laughed a little louder, squeezing gently where he still held Chase's softening dick, and Chase had to bite his lip not to whine again.

"That wasn't very quiet," Anti told him, grin in his voice as he tucked Chase's dick back into his boxers, his other hand scraping lazily through his hair.

"Please shut up," Chase groaned, burying his face farther into Anti's neck. "If he woke up, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"Don't be a little bitch," Anti laughed, the hand in his hair gentler than his words. "And get me a paper towel. You made me a fuckin' mess."

Chase's breath hitched at the reminder, and he swallowed as he turned his head just far enough to look down. "Mess" was right, jesus christ. He'd already looked it when he got here, with the torn stockings and the missing shoes, but now he actually was a mess, cum dripping slowly down his side as a little pool gathered in his belly button.

"Fuck," he breathed softly. Anti hummed in agreement, his stomach tensing with the sound, and Chase had to tear his eyes away to find the paper towels tossed onto the other counter.

Anti put out a hand for them, but Chase ignored it, ripping off a few sheets and running them under the water before squeezing them out and stepping back over to where the Irishman still lay splayed out of the counter.

"What are you, my mom?" Anti asked when Chase ignored his reaching hand again and instead started wiping over the mess himself.

"No, I just- I did it so-"

"So, what, this is your reward? Or your punishment?"

"I- neither?" Chase asked baffled. Anti stared him down for a long moment before shrugging.

"Sure, whatever. Your fetish."

Chase made an affronted sound, and Anti laughed, leaning back and closing his eyes as he let the athlete slowly clean the mess off his stomach.

When he was clean, Chase leaned down and pressed his lips to the bottom of his sternum, half a kiss and half just putting his mouth on him. He could feel Anti's heartbeat through his skin, thrumming a slightly off-kilter rhythm that had Chase humming thoughtfully. Anti made a low, pleased noise back at him, not opening his eyes, and Chase smiled against his stomach.

"Waffles are getting cold," Anti said mildly, and Chase laughed.

"I don't know how you're thinking about waffles when you're dick's that hard," Chase groaned back, turning to press his forehead against Anti's stomach just to feel it jump under him as Anti laughed.

"Easy. Waffles are better."

"What kind of waffles are you having," Chase groused against him, enjoying the vibration of Anti's voice, the hum against his skin as he turned his face into Anti's stomach, mouthing distractedly at whatever skin he could reach. His lip caught on his jean shorts, and Chase pressed his lips harder against them, running his hands up Anti's thighs and leaning down farther to reach-

Anti's hand tightened sharply in his hair and yanked, pulling him up and away from the unconscious path to his dick Chase had been on, and Chase winced and tried not to hiss as he snapped his hands to the counter to support himself instead.

"Waffles are getting cold," Anti repeated, but his voice was colder, and Chase looked at him in confusion, his stomach dropping uncomfortably as he realized he'd done something wrong. He didn't know what, but Anti's eyes were tight and his lips were in a thin line, and somewhere along the way Chase had fucked up, he just didn't know how.

"I- . . . sorry?" he sputtered, trying to stand up properly and put a little distance between them, but Anti's hand stayed in his hair, keeping him half bent over the Irishman.

"That's not-" Anti started, his mouth twisting up for a moment before he huffed out a sound of frustration. "That's not what I mean, just-"

And then he seemed to give up on words altogether, tugging Chase back into the space between his legs, cupping his face and kissing him again, something not quite soft, but not quite as aggressive as he'd been earlier.

"You're fine, calm down," Anti snapped when he finally pulled back, his voice sharp in comparison to his fingers playing gently through Chase's hair. "I just-" he started again, and then seemed to lose the words, looking up at the ceiling, his mouth twisting into something uncomfortable, before he looked back at Chase and rolled his eyes. "I don't want to take my pants off. I just want waffles, okay?"

"Oh," Chase said, blinking, taking a moment to readjust, before he smiled and shrugged. "Okay, sure."

Anti watched him for a moment, almost squinting at him, his brow furrowed and his mouth parting slightly like he was going to say something before he just laughed.

"You're fuckin' weird," Anti told him, finally releasing his grip on his hair and leaning back against the counter again, shaking his head.

"I'm not the one who needs honey for their waffles," Chase countered easily, grinning as he stretched up to full height for the first time in a few minutes, taking a moment to pop his back.

"It's for the dinosaur chicken nuggets, you uncultured swine," Anti snapped back, glaring at Chase as he snatched up the jar again. "Who doesn't eat chicken tenders with honey?"

"They're chicken nuggets though."

"Same difference."

Chase laughed and snatched the jar from Anti's grip, twirling it over in his hands as he read the label. "I have no idea how long this has been up there."

"Well, honey doesn't go bad, so."

"What?"

"Honey doesn't go bad. It'll crystalize, but it won't go bad."

"What, really?" Chase asked, turning the jar more aggressively in his hand as he searched the label. "So it just doesn't have an expiration date?"

"It probably has a 'best by' date still- would you give me that back?" Anti snipped, reaching out to catch Chase by the shirt and drag him closer, snatching at the jar Chase kept just out of his reach.

Chase laughed, holding it out at arm's length behind him and grinning obnoxiously at Anti.

"Gimme a ki- . . ." Chase started, teasingly, before trailing off, frowning and cocking his head at Anti. "Wait, should I not- is everything off the table or just-"

"Oh my god," Anti groaned, fisting his hands in Chase's shirt again and dragging him back into another kiss, this one messy and mean, ending with a sharp bite to his lip. "Stop being a gentleman. Just don't stick your hand down my pants, everything else goes."

"Cool," Chase said a little breathlessly, before leaning forward and kissing him again, a little more like he liked, slower and deeper, and proper, thank you.

When he was satisfied, he turned his face into Anti's neck, taking a long breath in and humming it out, reaching out with his free hand to place it gently on Anti's side, just feeling him breathe.

He'd only meant to stay there for a moment, just a second to be close, before pulling away again. But Anti's hand reached up to mirror his on Chase's side, just resting there a moment before it slid up onto his back, and just kind of . . . held him there. His breath was kind of shallow, and he made that noise, that one that reminded him of the first night, when there'd been just the taste of something wrong in his voice, and so Chase just stayed there for a while, nuzzling closer into his throat and setting the honey jar down on the counter to wrap his other arm around Anti's back.

It was only a few seconds. Just a tiny few breaths of shared heat between them, and the pressure of Anti's fingers growing harder against his back, and that little sound he made, before it was gone.

"Waffles," Anti said, softer than before.

"Mm," Chase hummed back.

"Waffles," Anti insisted, a little louder now. "Cold waffles. Cold cardboard waffles."

"Fine," Chase groaned, pulling back just long enough to steal another kiss before he stood properly, and stretched again.

The waffles were still on their mismatched plates on the other counter, the matching mismatched takeaway silverware next to them, and Chase got a clumsy grip on the honey jar and syrup bottle in one hand as he stepped back to give Anti room to finally get down off the counter.

"You wanna watch something while we eat?" Chase asked, glancing back at Anti in time to see him slowly sitting up from where he'd been draped back against the counter.

And then Anti looked back at him. And he smiled.

It was a smaller smile. Not a big grin, and not all crooked and messy. It was small, and it came with a little huff of a laugh, and it made Anti look- so young, god, and pretty, and just-

Fuck.

"Sure, Brody."