Dylan O'brien & Other-Smut-Imagines

Congratulations

This time however, I'd plastered on my biggest smile and pretended to be overjoyed for him, sitting through his interview as he freaked out, calming his nerves and reassuring him when no email had come a two weeks later, despite him having been told it could take between two and six weeks for a reply to be sent through, considering the amount of possible applications and entries they could be receiving.

His own block of flats was very similar to mine and I pushed in the code at the gate, hearing it beep open and letting me onto his site. He had a ground floor room, and it made it much less walking from the car which had to be parked outside the complex. I was now balancing hot food on my arms and holding the phone beneath my ear and shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I just spoke for like thirty solid minutes. Are you still there? Did you fall asleep? Dammit, I bet I put you to sleep." He mumbled, starting to ramble to himself and my chuckle cut him off.

"Look, your reason was enough to save me from killing you...at least today anyway. And I'm shot for you, so why don't you come and open your door and let me in so we can celebrate with the food I have that's going cold?" I laughed and I heard him stumble on the end of the line, the patio curtains soon sweeping back as dull light flooded out and he unlocked it, sliding the glass door open.

"When did you get food? When did you get in the car? Did I ever tell you that I loved you?" He shook his head, a wide grin showing his white teeth gracing his face and it was one of those moments.

"That would be during the thirty minutes you were talking, remember? And I love you too, babe." I laughed, unloading the brown bags onto him as I flopped onto his couch, arm over my eyes, the sound of rustling filling my ears.

"You got my favorite too! Did you get it without pickles, though? You know I hate pickles and-"

"Stew, I've only been buying food for the past eight years. I know very well of your resentment for pickles and I did get it without. I also ate your fries as well as mine because I was extra hungry. Pass me my breakfast thing." I sighed, holding one arm out as he threw it at me, directly missing my hands and letting it land on my chest, the paper scratching my skin as I unwrapped it and glared at him mockingly. I swung my legs up and sat up properly, feeling him slump in beside me and shove the bags between us.

We had always had a comfortable friendship, we talked about everything, told every secret and learned everything new together. We had a trust and to be honest, I couldn't even remember the day we met. But that wasn't what mattered, what mattered was that we had each other and somehow one day the cheerleader had met the nerd and they'd formed a friendship like no other.

After we'd finished the food, he'd sprung the sofa out into its popup bed mode and we were both lying across it, sprawled out as our legs tangled. One of his arms was under his head, the other stretched out under mine as both my hands lay over my stomach, one of his fingers twirling my hair as he told me what he planned to do about meeting everyone and choosing a team.

"Do you think the other interns are freaking out?" He asked after a few minutes of silence and I felt his eyes on me as he gauged my reaction, a hearty laugh leaving my lips.

"Stuart, I bet they're all freaking out and they're all celebrating with their best friends, or partners, just like you're celebrating with me." I smiled, rolling slightly so I could pat his chest with one of my hands, rubbing over the soft material of his cotton shirt.

"Yeah, I know. I bet they have bottles of champagne out, music cranked up loud. I bet they're getting special congratulations sex." He huffed, the mood suddenly changing and my eyebrows furrowed.

"Where did that come from?"

"I don't know. I just- I picture all the other guys who are going to be going out there. They will have partners supporting them the whole way, giving them the motivation to work for it and impress them. I've never even had a girlfriend. I have you, but I don't have to impress you. You're my best friend, with you it's easy and I can relax but it doesn't give me motivation, you know? So I got caught up on that thought and started thinking about what I would most likely be doing right now if I had a girlfriend to celebrate with. Someone to share it with." He mumbled, turning to face me as his eyes locked to the finger still twirling in my hair and my eyes roamed over his face, taking in the way his eyebrows were almost touching he had them furrowed so hard, the worry-lines tracing up his forehead to his hairline and his sad pout extremely prominent.