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"I uh... I went to the... to the doctor today," Brett mumbled as they ate their Italian takeaway dinner in front of the television showing some cooking show. Eddy turned to look at him instead of the chef yelling at some contestants in the show.

"Yeah? How did it go?" he asked, taking a bite of his pasta. Brett shifted slightly.
"I uh... I got the antidepressants. Like you wanted me to."

Eddy furrowed his brows.
"What do you mean like I wanted you to?" he asked, shifting slightly. "You know I only suggested it because I thought it might help you?"

Brett nodded quietly and took a bite of his food to avoid having to respond.

"You do know that, right? It sounds like I've forced you to. That's not what I wanted at all, really," he said, putting his fork into his takeaway box and placed a hand on Brett's knee.

"No, no, that's... that's not what I meant," Brett sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, it was... I spoke without using my stupid brain. What I meant was I got the pills like you suggested."

Eddy nodded and smiled assuringly at him.
"Of course," he said, rubbing Brett's knee with his thumb. "Sorry, I just worry about you. That's good, though?"

The tiniest of smiles spread over Brett's lips.
"Yeah, maybe it is. I hope so."

They watched the rest of the cooking show in silence, both eating the rest of their takeaway. Brett finished first, setting the box on the coffee table.
"Eddy?" Brett asked, sounding almost shy.

"Yeah, love?" Eddy asked, looking at him as he took one of the last few bites of the pasta.

"Can we have sex later?"

Eddy almost choked on his pasta. It had been almost two months since they were intimate. Heck, it wasn't often they even kissed anymore.

"I mean, uh, yes? I'd love that, it's just... why... uh... why did you think of that right now?" Eddy asked, blushing hard.

Brett shrugged, but got a hint of pink over his cheekbones.
"Just uh... The doctor said it could... that it could help and all, and I thought about it and I guess I kinda missed it?" Brett said, turning redder with each word. "But we don't have to if you don't want to or if I... if I'm not... I don't know, I just... Don't feel like you have to. It's just if you want."

Eddy sat his takeaway box down on the coffee table and crawled over to kiss Brett gently.
"Do I want to have sex with you? It's like asking if the earth is round or if Hilary Hahn plays violin well," he whispered, and Brett turned even redder.

"I uh... I guess I'll take that as a yes, then," Brett stuttered, a smile playing on his lips. The only thing that prevented him from smiling like an idiot was the bad feeling he always got when asking anything of Eddy. The feeling that he took up too much space, that he demanded too much.

He chose to push the feeling aside for now. It did seem like Eddy actually wanted it, after all.

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