[For Bobby] Most. Awkward. Conversation. Ever. [Mid March]

[prodigalflame]

Two nights ago, John had signalled a time out on account of how tired he'd been after teaching three classes and catching up with his load of marking. Last night, he'd begged off with a headache and a wan smile. Both nights, there had been snuggling, and kissing, but nothing too intense. It wasn't that he didn't want Bobby - quite the opposite, he wanted his boyfriend all the fucking time, he wanted him in every goddamn room in the house and across half of London and he wanted to bend over the couch and practically order Bobby to fuck him hard more often than not.

Which explained why movie night that night involved John being hard and uncomfortable and sitting apart on the sofa, trying to disguise his boner with a bowl of popcorn. He knew Bobby wouldn't be ashamed of things, wouldn't judge him, would never judge him. (Okay, he might judge him for some of John's kinkier fantasies, but he wasn't going there. Yet.) And that made it worse, because John knew that the only person who was liable to embarrassed about what a slutty bottom on poppers he'd become was himself.

He didn't know what to do about that. He didn't know how not to be embarrassed guy with awkward boner.

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[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby was okay with John not wanting him as much as he wanted John. It happened sometimes. If he wasn't in the mood, that wasn't a big deal.

Except lately, he'd started to wonder if maybe it was a big deal. Especially when John had turned him down two nights in a row and tonight had left a very deliberate-feeling gap between them when they started the movie.

He hated confrontation, but sitting here wondering was going to drive him crazy. If John was getting sick of him, didn't he want to know that? Just pull the bandaid off and find out where he stood? Better to know now than to keep going like they were, to keep getting in deeper with him if it was all going to end--and knowing them, end with a spectacular explosion. John wouldn't do anything without a show, including a break-up.

So he leaned forward and grabbed the remote, pausing the movie before shifting to face John. He took a deep breath and asked softly, "Is something wrong?"

[prodigalflame]

John blinked when Bobby grabbed the remote, mild 'wtf' turning into worry when his boyfriend shifted on the couch, and then softened into concern. Bobby had always been avoidant, sure, Mr Everything's Happy, but there was a anxious edge to his avoidance that John didn't remember from school. The idea that anything could be wrong - well, okay, yeah, that was probably John's fault. Bobby wasn't stupid. And he was a big enough boy to not whip himself and stow the blame and deal.

"If you're worried there's something wrong with you," John gently offered, taking a stab in the dark, "then don't be." Leaning forward, he set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and then shifted to cup Bobby's cheek with one hand in an act of conciliation, bringing his legs up to the couch in one smooth movement. "You exceed expectations. On the other hand, your boyfriend has a lot of hangups." And Bobby was very patient to listen. How many confessions was this? Wetting his lips with his tongue, John continued: "I want you. A lot. I think about you...A lot." He exhaled, shaking his head just a little from side to side. "You grin, and I want to stick my tongue down your throat. And I spend time in this shoebox office I share with three other tutors ruminating on the way your dick tastes, the heaviness of it on my tongue." He curled in closer to press his forehead against Bobby's for a moment, his eyes closing. "I worry I'm treating you like some kind of sex toy, because I don't know how to do relationships. My two attempts at dating were experiments in how drunk I could get before the other person ran away. So there's that."

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby laughed a little at the confession, because how could he not. If there was something wrong with John just because he couldn't stop thinking about Bobby, then there was something wrong with Bobby, too. "You think I don't do that too?" he asked softly. "I think about you constantly. Some days I can't wait to get home just because I know you'll be waiting here, and I can kiss you and smell you and--well, yeah. All of the other stuff," he finished lamely, because wanting sex he was okay with. Having sex he was fine. Talking about sex...he was working on. It was one thing to tell John all of the many and varied ways he wanted him, thought about him, when they were in the middle of things, but just sitting on the couch talking about it was a bit more awkward.

"As far as how to do relationships...man, every one is different. There's no guide book, baby. We'll just figure it out as we go. But for the record, you're doing a great job so far. Better than I am, I think," he finished with a rueful smile, wrapping his arms around John's shoulders to keep him close.

[prodigalflame]

John's mind was already running through possible replies before Bobby finished. (Yes. He war-gamed his conversations. He still listened at the same time. Fuck you.) Still, the idea that Bobby felt the same way both surprised him for a moment, showing with a brief eyebrow raise, and then made perfect sense. Why shouldn't he be the only crazily sex-obsessed mutant in the household? Not that there was anything, per se, wrong with that, but John's hangups were easier to accept when they were shared. And yet the pesky question of 'why me?' lay still unanswered, even if it was quieter than it had been before.

"I even get turned on by that fucking hat of yours!" John exclaimed with a bit of a chuckle, because who the fuck in their right mind had a goddamn fantasy about what a slick fucking potentially sharply dressed boyfriend they had. That hat was goddamn old-fashioned like Bobby's taste in music and it was everything he loved about the doofus rolled up into one simple statement.

He leaned in a little as Bobby kept talking, settling companionably against the back of the couch, arm reaching to gently play with Bobby's hair. And then Bobby said that word. John let out a subconscious rumble of pleasure in response, and then leaned in even closer so he could eyeball Bobby, mouth set in a line, grey eyes looking into blue. "...What did you call me?" he asked, soft, but demanding, and then shifted over further to loom a bit, instinctively trying to press Bobby back against the other end of the couch, and moving with him to ensure there wasn't much chance for escape. "Because you know, 'baby' sounds like the kind of thing you hear in movies and stuff, with the perfect couples, and you know....I want it." He murmured against Bobby's mouth, all but on top of him, on all fours. He breathed a little quicker at the admission, kissing Bobby's lips, voice shaking with anxiety and need as he continued: "And I want to be this normal, fucking, sappy-ass cliched boyfriend, with a gentle, wonderful guy like you who has a god-awful sense of humour and makes me laugh and lets me find out who I am when I'm not being tough. You're doing just fine."

He brushed his lips over Bobby's forehead, and looked down at him, awaiting his response.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby laughed a little when John mentioned the hat, a surprised chuckle because...it was just a fedora, just a bit of wish fulfillment, at the end of the day. Although if it turned John on...maybe he'd have to make a point of wearing it more often.

And then John was pressing him backwards, hovering over him, and for a moment he was wide-eyed with surprise, trying to recall what he'd even said. But John kept coming, kept talking, and he relaxed, twining his arms around John's neck as their lips met. It was too brief, and then he was looking up at John and smiling faintly, arms still loosely clasped around John's neck. "...I mean, aren't you?" he asked, completely sincere, and pleased that John thought he was doing well on his end at least.

[prodigalflame]

John felt Bobby's arms loosely entwine around his neck, and it was like he was meant to be there. They fit together somehow, even like this, Bobby moving with his body, pulling him close (when John didn't do it first) to form a whole.

"Yeah," John admitted, voice a little choked, and knew he was blushing. "I guess I am." He liked this. It wasn't that he was a wreck before he met Bobby - he knew he hadn't been. He'd taken care of his kids and done things to be proud of. But Bobby was sweet and funny and God, he was safe. In the good use of the word, not the boring one.

Dropping a kiss to Bobby's mouth again, he lowered himself gently so they could snuggle closer, resting his head on Bobby's chest. "...Just don't get bored with me, okay? I'm not actually this fearsome hard-ass who tops all the time, and I'm sorry I'm not more interesting." And yeah, God, he was a little embarassed about that, and fearful that he might seem like a broken record, sexually speaking. Stuck in a rut. All that.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby's brow furrowed as he adjusted his hold on John, arms wrapping around his back, holding him close. "...Have I ever made you think that's what I want from you?" he asked quietly. As for John being boring, well--that was straight-up laughable. "And you're dating a guy that could best be described as vanilla ice cream personified, John-boy. I'm not the one I'm worried about getting bored in all of this. I don't think you've ever bored me." Frustrated, sure. Infuriated, more than once, especially back in school. Disappointed him even, once or twice, but never ever bored him.

[prodigalflame]

"No." John murmured quiet against Bobby's chest, nuzzling a little. "But you're a sweetheart," he admitted, in a small, somewhat lonely voice, before he looked up at those blue eyes, chin on Bobby's chest: "You want me, that's it." Every which way, that was sure. And John wasn't sure if Bobby would ever admit if things could be better for fear of hurting John's feelings or damn well expressing a less than positive emotion. "And I want to be good for you, so good." He swallowed.

"Now I'm starting to think maybe I just am good for you, and there's no hoops to jump through." And wasn't that weird? Finding himself worthy, beyond all the bluster. "As for the rest, I'm hardly bored of you, you're this sweet, funny, rock in my life. Always have been." A rock he could build the rest of his life on. Words loomed large in John's chest, and he got them out, somehow. "I love you, sweetheart."

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby moved a hand up to stroke John's hair, smiling up as he talked and nodding a little in agreement. John's words filled him with warmth, made him feel comfortable and a little more confident about where they stood. And then John said the words.

Bobby was silent for a long moment, letting the truth of those words sink into him, and then he broke into a sweet smile. "I love you too, baby," he murmured, lifting his head to look at John as he said them back. There was no question, no hesitation. He'd loved John for years, whether the other man believed that or not--but he meant them in the 'this is real and true and strong and right,' kind of way, not just in the 'I give a shit what happens to you,' kind of way. It was easy to say them, and speaking them aloud, feeling his chest tighten with the emotion he was expressing, he wondered why he hadn't said it sooner.

[prodigalflame]

There was an ease that settled in him when Bobby responded the way he did. Of course he felt the same way - would things have gotten as far as they did if he hadn't? John knew even when they were teenagers that one Robert Louis Drake was undeniably the paragon of sweethearts everywhere. And knowing just how honestly Bobby would have uffered up those words in return, he smiled a little.

There was still a trace of a blush on his cheeks from the endearment: that was something he'd never live down. But here he'd probably never have to. Here he could really be that guy, the person for whom Pittsburgh and Westchester and Manhattan were necessary stops on the way. He didn't feel any different from the college student he'd been at Columbia; it was just one less layer of bullshit to contend with.

"Well, you have do impeccable taste," he acknowledged, dryly. "But so do I. I'll work on my stupid, promise. There's some stuff I'm into exploring, sexually-speaking, but we'll burn that bridge when we get to it. I know you'd never judge me and that's...that means a lot." And that was definitely not an invitation for them to have the kink talk, more a...placeholder. John privately doubted he was as scary as he assumed, anyway.

Running a hand absently along Bobby's side, John thought about it for a second more, then made his suggestion: "You should move in with me. Properly. My room becomes our room. This house for us. Together."

[cold_blueeyes]

Conversations with John often took sharp left turns like that, from confessions of love to discussing exploring stuff in the bedroom, so Bobby just gave a little nod.

He thought about the proposal for a moment, instead. Having his own space was nice, but hell, he was practically moved into John's room as it was. There was no reason for him to keep a separate bedroom just for his stuff.

So he smiled and nodded again. "Okay. I mean, it makes sense. And then you can rent out the room again, if you want to." Although it would be weird having someone else there, unless they could find another mutant to rent the place. That wouldn't be so bad, he guessed.

[prodigalflame]

Keeping his eyes on Bobby's, John shook his head just a little. "Nah. I'm good. We're good," he corrected: "no need for an interloper, I think. Besides, I like having you all to myself." The idea of having to moderate the constant little touching and the general tendency towards making out all the time because there was a New Housemate was not an idea John wanted to entertain.

But for John, his conversation made total sense - of course thinking about how much he loved Bobby lead to thinking about how he wanted to fuck Bobby and have Bobby as part of his life. In his house, anyway. Their house. And that was that. He gave Bobby a quick kiss on the lips as if placing a full stop on the conversation, and snuggled in before reaching for the remote. They were supposed to be having a movie night, after all.