Boyf Riends Oneshots

Sleep or No Sleep Part One (1/10 spice)

Michael sits awake, his eyelids threatening to drop any moment, as he stares at Jeremy. He's just so freaking cute in his sleep. His facial expression is peaceful, and it lacks the stress he usually carries around all day. Because you don't have social anxiety in your sleep, right?
He's about five feet away from him, sitting on the floor and leaning his back against the wall. And he is just so damn tempted to reach out and touch him.
He sighs at his own gayness, chiding himself for liking his best friend like that. Especially his straight best friend. God, it sucks.
It'd be real easy to just steal one quick kiss from him...
No. Shut the fuck up, Michael.
He sighs, lying back down with his back turned to Jeremy. Pining over him is honestly extremely exhausting. He always has to worry about ruining their friendship or accidentally fucking him. God, he's helpless/hopeless.
A few minutes later, he's about to fall back to sleep when he hears, "Michael? Are you up?"
He focuses his attention over at a tired-looking Jeremy sitting up in bed.
"Yeah."
Jeremy stretches, yawning, and it takes all of Michael's willpower to not gaze at him lovingly or glance at the tiny patch of pale skin showing under his shirt that he can see in his peripheral vision. Jeremy rubs his eyes, smiling down at Michael. "What time is it?" (Showtime!)
"Four-twenty," he says, turning on his phone to see the time.
"Wait, seriously?"
"No, it's actually sixty-nine o'clock."
Jeremy sighs, shaking his head, but he can see a small smile showing on his face. "You are so immature, Michael."
"It's what I do best. But it's three, for real this time."
He groans. "Three? Oh, God, but I have to go to school today, and I'm so tiiiiiiireeed."
Michael smiles, trying not to explode from Jeremy's complete cuteness. He averts his gaze, hoping his red cheeks won't give him away.
"Michael?"
"Yeah?"
Jeremy pauses before saying, "I'm bored."
"Then sleep."
"But I don't feel like sleeping," he complains with his signature whiny voice.
"You just said you're tired."
"And two years ago, I said I wouldn't be a virgin at sixteen."
Michael bursts out laughing, immediately vetoing his idea of saying, "I can help with that." That might be the fastest way to ruin his friendship.
He looks back up at Jeremy, who, if it isn't just hopeful thinking, looks pleased with himself for making him laugh. God, is everything gay for Michael?
They're silent for a moment as Michael thinks about gay shit, and I can't tell you what Jeremy's thinking, because it's not his turn to tell the story.
After a minute of this, Jeremy speaks up. "Hey, Michael?" He sounds nervous.
"Yeah?"
He runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at Michael. "I..." He hugs his knees to his chest, and it's the most vulnerable Michael's ever seen him. That's saying a lot. Michael has seen Jeremy's high and lows, but the lows seem to be predominant.
"Are you sure you're okay with sleeping down there?"
That's an invitation to the bed?
...How does he respond to that?
So he doesn't, because he knows anything that falls out of his mouth is apt to be gay. He can't risk that. Instead, he gives Jeremy a Look. A Look that says, 'I have big gay. And it's for you.' He's not sure if he succeeds in communicating this to him.
"The floor is kinda hard."
SHIT.
How did he manage to say something that sounds so retarded and that's-what-she-said at the same time?
Jeremy gives him a small smile. "You can sleep up here. With me."
...Was that some kind of hint?
Michael stands up almost too eagerly with an all too obvious blush as he walks over to the bed. Their eyes meet as Jeremy scoots over to give him some space, and Michael hesitantly slides under the covers. He is currently approximately 6.9 inches away from Jeremy, probably the closest he's ever been to him.
Michael both hates and loves this nervous, anticipating feeling at the same time. The thrill of possibly(?) requited first love is like riding a roller coaster. You feel as if you're gonna be decapitated any second, but that's irrational thinking. His proximity to Jeremy speeds up his heartbeat as he imagines all the possibilities that could come of this situation. He prays to Shrek it'll be a good one.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Jeremy's red face. He loves this; it gives him hope. Like maybe Jeremy isn't whacking off to the bitch, Christine. Okay, no offense, Christine, Michael just wants his man.
Even better thought: maybe Jeremy's whacking off to Michael?
No, no. It can't be. Can it?
Oof.
Michael laid down, Jeremy following suit. They both had their back turned to each other, and Michael doesn't think he'll ever fall asleep. There's too much going through his mind.
But after an hour or so of fantasizing of what might've been if he just asked Jeremy out, he finally nods off, dreaming of sucking on slushie straws/Jeremy dicks.