miami

eight.

chapter eight

CLAY IS FREAKING OUT. His hands are starting to shake. He presses them into the couch and avoids her gaze. His mouth is completely dry.

"Clay?" Her voice rises in worry. He barely hears it over the slamming of his heart. He only registers her concern when her hand darts out and touches his shoulder. "I'm not going to tell anyone who you are. I'm not that stupid. I also don't care about if you're Dream or Clay, as long as you're yourself."

"I didn't think you'd find out that quick," he whispers. He's itching to jump up and pace, but he doesn't for Patches' sake. She's kneading his thighs at the moment, unaware of the turmoil in his mind.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I probably shouldn't have said anything but it's been bothering me for a bit now."

Clay rubs his face, trying to force the reality away. At least he doesn't have to keep secrets anymore.

"You're crazy, actually. For figuring it out in a few days, I mean."

"What can I say, I'm the next Sherlock."

Clay is blinded by her smile. It always compliments her olive skin and makes her dark eyes glow. He's too aware of her hand still resting on his shoulder.

"It's kind of a lot. The whole YouTube thing."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We've got plenty of time."

"The pizza should be here soon..." Clay glances up at her. The nerves are shrinking back, though he knows it's really only from distraction. There's a lot he's going to have to figure out now that she knows.

The one thing he does know is that Nick and George are going to lose their goddamn minds when he tells them.

The pizza arrives a few minutes later. They eat in a comfortable silence as the TV drones on. She doesn't mind that he's put a football game on.

Clay watches Irena play with Patches. She's still wedged on the couch next to him, her legs pressed against his side. It's too easy to get along with her, especially now that he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not. It still feels illegal, letting her see his face and his personality.

Patches is curled in Irena's lap, purring like a small motorcycle. It's been a long time since Clay has heard her that happy. He feels a bit guilty...he hasn't been giving her enough attention the past month, especially trying to deal with his series of manhunts and the backlash. December has been a serious whirlwind of activity between the SMP and filming for a multitude of videos.

"She likes you," he murmurs. He rubs the spot behind the cat's ears gently with his thumb. She chirps and stretches against his hand. Irena smiles soflty down at the feline.

"I really want a cat now."

"I promise she doesn't look this cute when it's three in the morning and she's screaming to be let into my room. When I'm awake it's not too bad, but half the time I'm asleep."

"Just leave your door open."

"It gets drafty."

"Cat door, then."

"I'll think about it," Clay laughs. He leans back into the couch and tosses his arm across the top. His hand lands close to where her head is pressed against the couch cushion.

It's a rare day that's he's not paying attention to the football game. It's his favorite team but he hasn't given the TV screen a second glance since he's turned it on. His friends always gave him a hard time when he missed playing with them because of game...even Nick, who was the only one willing to watch the sport with him, wasn't so devoted. To ignore one...Irena was seriously capturing his whole attention.

"She's laying so cute...do you mind if I post a picture of her on my Snapchat story?"

"Go ahead."

Irena's smile widens as she turns the phone to Clay and shows him the picture. Clay's hand is visible where it's resting on her shins. Patches is still the center of attention, her paw tucked in the air and her wide green eyes turned to the camera.

"Little model," Clay chuckles. "I swear she poses."

"She definitely did. Look at that face. She knows she's cute."

"So...did your brothers at least like the video?"

"Do you even have to ask that? They love every video you post. They rewatch them too. I'm surprised my mom didn't cave and buy them some merch."

"That would be extremely ironic."

"Tell me about it. I'm seriously curious how you how fifteen million subscribers, by the way. No offense, it's just a lot of people."

"Yeah. A lot of people," Clay's smile dips. He glances away, towards the TV. "I still wake up and forget there's fifteen million people waiting for my next move."

"Kinda scary."

"Kinda? More like fucking terrifying. The amount of times I'll comb through a video post-edit only to scrap the entire thing...It's hard to put something out there knowing that that many people are going to view it and there's always going to people that want to bring me down."

"The internet can be shitty."

"I hate it. But I also love it, even when it's trying to destroy me. There's a lot of good to balance the bad."

Irena shifts toward him, more into the space between his elevated arm and side. Patches is the only thing keeping them completely separated.

"It seems like it's been pretty stressful this year."

"All part of the job. Can't say I regret any of it."

"That's good. Think you can get me to blow up too? I'm a starving artist," she jokes. It's easy to decipher her serious tones from the lighthearted ones. Clay smirks.

"Oh I could. In a heartbeat, actually. All it takes is one tweet. But you need to prove yourself worthy first."

"When I get back to my laptop I'll set up a portfolio that will blow your socks off."

"Good, I'll be waiting for it."

She's looking up at him through thick eyelashes. There's a devilish smirk on her face that positively screams try me. The expression makes his heart falter. If he doesn't look away soon he's going to burn. God, she is exquisite. Honey whiskey that he absorbs way past the recommended dose. He's drunk on her. There's no other way to describe it.

"Don't look at me like that, Clay. It's dangerous."

He agrees. He's been watching her lips, pretending there isn't a shock as they form around his name.

"Go back to watching football or you'll do something you regret," she insists more seriously. He only shakes his head as she shifts away.

"I'd never regret it."