The Quincux of a Heart (Freewood)

Your Apartment Sucks

"So what do you think of it?" Gavin asked, presenting his apartment. He huffed as Ryan’s face turned to one of absolute horror. "Really? I spent bloody hours cleaning it!"

It was true. The apartment was so spotless it could be shining and everything was stacked up and ordered in groups of five; he’d even thrown away several of his belongings to make five of them, or at least a divisible of that number. Still, his boyfriend was already twitching with a need to rearrange.

"It’s horrible. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!" Ryan’s blue eyes darted around the living room wildly, his diseased mind pointing out every possible thing that needed to be fixed. "Can I? May I? Please, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. Gavin!" He shifted from one foot to the other, restraining himself.

"Do whatever you need to, luv. I’ll cancel our dinner plans and make us something here." Gavin smiled at his OCD-tainted boyfriend as Ryan rushed towards Gavin’s game collection, carefully taking them off the shelf and sorting through them.

"I appreciate the idea. I appreciate the sentiment. Sentiment. I just… Everything looks wrong. Disordered. Wrong. Incorrect. Everything looks incorrect." He finally decided, smirking at his boyfriend. "You truly are fantastic. Fantastic."

"Hush your face. What would you like for dinner, luv? I’ve got chicken, steak, etc. Or we could order out?" He suggested, popping his head around the corner to see Ryan in a pool of game cases.

"You decide. Your choice. I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter to me. Matter to me." Ryan blinked several times and grinned at Gavin.

"Not gonna lie, steak is sounding pretty top. We could have mashed potatoes with it, and it’s quick. Getting a bit famished." Gavin called from where he was in the kitchen, removing supplies from the fridge and scattering them on the counter as he did so.

"Top. Top, top, top. Top top top top top." Gavin heard being muttered and cursed under his breath as he rushed back into the living room. Ryan was still organizing games but his face was red as the word poured from his mouth continuously in an excited mock-British accent.

Gavin knelt down on his knees beside Ryan, guiding his face towards him. “Ryan, Ryan love are you okay?” Ryan nodded five times, still spewing the word. “Do you want to go lay down? We don’t have to have dinner tonight.” Ryan shook his head and Gavin kissed his forehead lightly.

"Don’t hesitate to come get me if you change your mind, okay? I’m going to start on the food."

"Top, top, top, top, top, top." Ryan repeated over and over but he smiled sadly at Gavin, his eyes apologetic.

"And don’t you dare go feeling sorry. You’re not a bother, James Ryan Haywood." Gavin’s voice was stern as he rounded the corner, unwrapping the meat.

He had prepared the food and served dinner before Ryan had stopped repeating the British slang, suddenly falling quiet halfway through the meal.

"How are you, baby?" Gavin asked, devouring a spoonful of spuds.

"On a scale of one to twenty? A scale of one to twenty? Ten. Thirteen. Ten." He said, his free hand intertwined with Gavin’s across the table.

"Thirteen isn’t so bad. You look lovely." Gavin cooed and Ryan snorted, placing kisses to Gavin’s fingers, over and over until he did them just right.

"You look great. Perfect. Perfect." Ryan muttered, face flushing, and Gavin grinned.

"C’mere, you." Gavin stood, urging for Ryan to do the same, and pulled his boyfriend toward him. "Let me kiss you." He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck before ducking in, kissing the older man with as much passion as he could muster, tongue tracing his soft, pink lips. Ryan pushed into it, sending them back and pressing Gavin against the wall.