Archive of Our Own

Issa and Billie knew something was up the minute Anton waltzed down the stairs.

They were both sprawled lazily across the couch watching ‘How I Stole my Submissive Life Savings: A Tutorial’ on the laptop when heavy footsteps covered the sound of the downpour outside.

“Do you really think I could do it? I mean—I feel like leather makes my boobs look weird and that could be like a turn off—”

“Good morning, my loves!” Anton exclaims as he pads his way to the kitchen, pausing to kiss both women on the cheek with an audible ‘Mwah’ sound. Alarm bells immediately started sounding off in Issa's brain. It was a shitty, rainy Monday morning which meant Anton, despite his many protests and excuses, had to get up early and go into the office. Anton despises getting up before 9am on any day. The girls, being the notorious early risers of the group, have tried numerous times to get the man to join their early morning antics to no avail. Issa can even recall him asking his family to reschedule his uncle’s funeral because getting up at 7am unnecessarily was ‘against his moral code’. They both exchange a look of confusion before their eyes land on the obnoxiously yellow cable knit sweater he was wearing.

“Who are you and what have you done with Anton?” Issa asks with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic.” Anton says from his place at the coffee machine.

Issa sits up with furrowed eyebrows. “Am I? Anton, you don’t even own the color yellow. Where did you get that?”

“Oh this? This is a Billie's closet original, babe” Anton replies, explaining the awkward length and size.

“My grandmother knitted that for me…” Billie says under her breath, seeing the stretched out fate of her sweater before glancing at the clock on her phone. ”But she's right. It’s 6:32am…why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” Anton questions while pacing around the room.

“Like you have an honest to god glimmer of hope and optimism in your eyes.” Issa butts in moving from her position on the couch, grabbing Anton by the shoulders. “Stop it. It’s weird.” She says staring him in the eyes.

“It is really creeping me out.”

“Okay, you guys are being ridiculous. God forbid Anton enjoys his life for once. You guys should try it. Might be a little more useful than starting a doomed Fin-Dom career.” Anton says as he twists out of Issa's grip. “Nothing personal, Bills your eyes just look too kind.“ He pauses for a minute and continues “Ugh, no umbrella. I’ll just feel the rain on my skin like Ms. Natasha Bedingfield intended.” Anton quips with a laugh. A look of realization shows on both of their faces as they remember the last time Anton was in one of his uncharacteristically optimistic moods—over a year ago after Anton had finally had his first post-Jacob hookup with some guy he met at the dentist (apparently he had ‘sexy teeth’).

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Anton you got laid” Issa exclaims embracing her best friend. “I’m so happy for you.”

Anton, making a slightly incriminating face, gently pulls her off of him and starts for the door.

“Oh no love, I…just tried this new sleep mask last night.” Anton exclaims as he grabs his things. “Yeah, I'm so overly rejuvenated…all the collagen so—okay bye guys—.” He says through a forced laugh. His pace quickens as to not get questioned further.

“O-kayy, bye slut” Billie calls out as the door closes.

“He totally broke his dry spell.” Issa says, joining her roommate on the couch. “I’m so proud I could cry.” Fake tears are mimed away as she hugs her roommate like she won an Olympic medal. “I’m glad someone in this house is having sex even if it isn’t me, unfortunately."

“Aw Iss, I’m sure you’re gonna get your brains fucked out any day now.” Billie says now rubbing small circles on her shoulder. Anton’s dry spell straight from hell ending has her over the moon, but unfortunately hers is just beginning, and it's driving her insane. A month ago (about a few weeks after the whole visa wedding fiasco) Paul Baker broke up with her seemingly out of nowhere.

Ever since Issa unwillingly disclosed her marriage to the most annoying gay man on earth and kind of left Paul Baker at the altar, there was always something hard to place hanging in the air between the two of them. No matter how many times he reassured her that she was forgiven, it was obvious something in their relationship had changed, and one day—post-coitally—he ended it.

“Issa I love you, that won’t change, but I feel like we want different things. I also hate the fact that when I’m with you I’m somewhere else mentally. You deserve better.” The man lamented to his now ex-girlfriend’s exposed boobs. Even though she asked, Paul Baker wouldn’t elaborate, and frankly it really pissed her off. So now she’s sexless, depressed, and worried that every time she gets her nipples sucked, she's always going to think about getting broken up with.

Issa gasps, realizing what this could mean for her. “What if he passed the spell to me? Oh my god, I might as well just join the local convent and be a fucking nun.”

“Iss, you’re not—”

“Billie, you don’t understand that If I go more than three weeks without orgasming my clit will turn black and fall off.” She states, serious as a heart attack.

“First of all, If it ever comes to that I will put you down myself like a true friend.” Issa nods in agreement. “Maybe if we figure out what dick gave Anton a new lease on life, he might put you on.” She shrugged.

“It had to be bisexual dick.” Issa adds.

“One hundred percent. Oh! We should ask Paul Baker when he wakes up, he might know him.”

—

While Issa and Billie began to Instagram stalk potential suspects of the spell breaking, Paul Baker was silently suffocating in his new bedroom (Samir's den).

Paul Baker is terrible at keeping secrets. It’s not like he didn’t want his friends to confide in him about the fucked shit they more than likely did, but mentally storing information above the ‘Samir drank straight from the carton’ tier of secret made him physically sick—he has to let it out, or he would collapse in on himself like that billionaire Titanic submarine.

The only thing Paul Baker hates more than having to keep a secret is lying, and right now, he’s having to do both to the dismay of his entire body, which has been shaking 24/7 since it happened. When he first moved to New York, never would he have thought he'd meet people as amazing, warm, and welcoming as his roommates, and he doubly didn't expect to form a deeper connection with the man who tried to steal his foil blanket post-marathon than his actual girlfriend who introduced them—there was no word to describe how genuinely fucking awful it made him feel. It's not like he was deliberately trying to poison the group with friendcest or break someone he kept so close to his heart. That was like the complete antithesis of what Paul Baker is: easy-going, kindhearted, and not a fucking douche bag.

So here he is rotting in his half-deflated air mattress, staring at pictures of Samir's dead relatives. Without the distraction of work, he was trying his best not to let the cacophony of prior events swimming in his head send him to an early grave.

Naturally, he kept thinking about the series of events that would send him to an early grave.

“Hey, thanks for coming with me, man. You really didn’t have to do that.” Paul Baker is sitting with his hands resting on the steering wheel of his unmoving car. The two were currently sitting in the comfortable silence of an empty lowes parking lot after being tasked with buying drywall to fix an Issa-sized hole in the wall.

“Are you kidding? I love hanging out with you. I live for your— like, adorable Make-A-Wish kid vibe. It makes me wanna donate to Saint Jude.” Anton gushed from the passenger seat.

Paul Baker let out a chuckle before responding. “You know, I don’t exactly know what that means, but I’ll choose to take it as a compliment.”

“Oh, it would never not be a compliment. That's like really high praise coming from me.” Anton confirmed, eyes subconsciously dancing across his face."Well I'm glad. I think this is gonna be a great marriage." He responded with a laugh. This whole trip had been an attempt at trying to cut the palpable awkwardness that hung thick in the air between them, and while that kiss unearthed a mosaic of feelings he didn’t know were so convoluted, he was more than happy to shove them down if it meant having his friend back and not hurting Issa.

Just as Paul Baker was going to deem the night a success in avoiding the elephant in the room and keeping the peace, he noticed his eyes had found a home locked on Anton’s lips—fuck.

The amount of unresolved tension filling his 2006 Nissan Altima was suffocating. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Anton’s voice cuts through the nothingness.

“Mind-wipe?”

Paul turned his focus to Anton, fidgeting with the string of his sweatpants as he finds the right words to say. “That kiss…Its been in the back of my mind since it happened."

The Canadian breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You too? Thank god I thought I was alone in this. I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Okay, fabulous, we're on the same page. Even though, to be honest I don’t know how you couldn't; I’m an amazing kisser.”

Anton stated with a smirk gracing his lips. Anton is a very funny guy, which meant it was always hard to tell just how sincere he was being, and this time it was no different.

Was he just thinking of the kiss superficially?

He's made out with everyone in the house at least once,so what was world changing for him could very well just be a normal Tuesday for Anton. Was he harboring the same feelings deep down? He was probably just joking and saying anything would fuck everything up.

After trying to muster up some courage to express the way he really feels, Paul baker just let's out a small huff of amusement before motioning the statement out of his head and into the ether.

Paul Baker ran his fingers over the course hair on above his lip, thinking if he too should share what's been on his mind. "Mind wipe?" Anton raised an intrigued eyebrow before responding "Try me."

"I think I need to break up with Issa…" He started straight ahead, not being able to face his friend.

"What?!" Anton exclaimed wide eyed now leaning closer to the man in the drivers seat.

"It's just–I know I said I forgave her for the whole lying thing, but it just made me realize I don't think she's as serious as I am about this. I mean—you hear her always complaining about Billie being able to 'get out there and fuck till her bean is blue' and she can't or whatever the fuck. I'm seriously thinking about a future I don't think she sees me in." He monologues. "I'm just worried if I do, then that'll be the end of my friendship with all of you. I don't necessarily have a problem moving out, but losing you guys would genuinely fuck me up."

"First off all, you're not going to lose any of us, even if it doesn't work out between you two. You're a part of our fucked up commune now, whether you like it or not." A warmth in Paul Baker's chest began to spread as he listened to his roommate's words.

"Second of all, even if everyone does hate you and wants you dead, you'll always have me in your corner, PB." Anton continued. "In sickness and in health, and all that other bullshit they made us say."

Paul Baker was still for a couple of moments, taking in the face of the man in the passenger seat, thinking about the day he'd be brave enough to show his roommate how he really felt, but unfortunately the air would remain heavy with words he didn't have the heart to speak until Anton pulled him out of his racing mind.

"…You never mind wiped."

"Oh shit, yeah." Paul Baker blurted before motioning the whole conversation out of his consciousness—it didn't work. "Well let's start heading back." Paul Baker stated.

"Ok perfect. I'm controlling the music this time. I'm so serious when I say I'd rather kill myself than listen to that fucking purple hat song again"

"….it's a good song."

—-

After ruminating for hours and trying to figure out if the portraits of Samir's dead relatives were judging him, he had reached his breaking point. He was sweating, shaking, and felt like he was going to drop dead any minute now.

The Canadian desperately wanted to tell the most important people in his life about the way Anton makes him feel, but if he did, he fears he would be jumped, kicked out the house, and possibly castrated and shot. Obviously this is unrealistic, but even looking at the situation with a straight, rational mind, he could choke on the amount of guilt and shame he felt for sleeping with his husband (ironically). He had to tell someone, or he feared he would soon be found seizing on the floor, so he confided in the most clueless person in the house, Samir.

“Hey man, can I talk to you about something?” Paul Baker walked down the stairs to see the head of the house playing Call of Duty on the newly leather polish-stained couch thanks to Billie.

“Yeah, sure,” He answers, scooting slightly to the right to make room for Paul.

God, how can he say this in a way that won’t make him sound like the biggest asshole to walk the earth.

“So…I have this friend who’s hooking up with his ex’s best friend…” Before he can finish his sentence, the man to his left blurts out.

“Shit, he sounds like an asshole,” Samir interjected. As you can imagine, this did wonders for Paul Baker’s self-image and mental spiraling.

“Okay! But what if they have, like.. A really deep connection, and both his ex and her friend were really, really important to him, and he feels like an asshole for doing it, but also in a weird way the best he’s ever felt before…what if—what if that's what happened?….” He trailed off, scratching the nape of his neck in disarray. Of course he blurted this all out before he could think. God, he’s so stupid. Thankfully, Samir was stupider and too caught up in his game to process what was being said.

“I meannnnn, is the friend hot?” Samir shrugs.

“I— yeah, I…maybe, but I don’t know.”

“I would tell him to go for it. If he really cares about the girl, then he’ll deal with the repercussions.” Samir responds unmoving, not once taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, man. I’ll uhh... make sure to tell him that." Paul Baker responded, moving from the floral-printed couch to stress-bake his feelings away before realizing both unemployed women were missing from the house. "Hey, where are Issa and Billie?"

"Oh, they're out 'sleuthing'," Samir said with air quotes. "They figured out that Anton broke his dry spell and won't say who with." Fantastic.

Samir paused to pull out his phone. "Oh, they also asked if you wanted anything from the sex store since you're single and shit now."

"May I ask why they're at the sex store?" The man questioned.

"Billie's client wanted her to whip her boobs and eat an apple seductively in front of the camera." Samir clarified, picking back up his broken controller.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna pass on that, bud." While Samir actually had some solid advice and eased his mind the slightest bit, he still couldn't help but wonder how telling his roommates might actually go down. Everyone would obviously side with Issa if it came down to it (Paul Baker was literally just some guy a couple months ago), and he'd once again be friendless and without a place to stay.

Great, he's spiraling again.

As he pulled out almost expired ingredients from their kitchen, his mind once again wandered to the events of the night prior, and how it opened a Pandora's box worth of shit he couldn't close.

What the hell was he going to do?

—-

On one of many of Paul Baker's restless nights, lamenting to Samir's great-aunt on the wall above his feet, creaky footsteps cut through his monologue.

"Mrs. Rima, I'm just so conflicted—"

"Who are you talking to?" Anton appeared from the darkness of the hallway wearing glasses and what he was almost certain were his sweatpants.

"Jesus Christ! You scared me. What are you doing up here?" The Canadian questioned, sitting up from his position on the mattress with an audible crinkle.

"Oh, I'm looking for the rest of Billie's weed. I need it more than her, believe me." Anton said, shuffling through the various toys left over from when it was a playroom.

"… So, is there a specific reason you're talking to Aunty Rima?" The man said, looking over his shoulder at the man behind him, rummaging through a pile of naked Barbies in a corner.

"You know, she's a really good listener." Paul Baker responded with a quiet laugh.

"Ugh, I know. What a life she led, too. I mean, three husbands by the age of forty-two, truly inspirational."

"Found it! Suck it Billie." Anton whisper yelled in excitement as he pulled a small mason jar from out of an old dollhouse. "Grab your bong—Mama needs this, and from the looks of it, you too." Paul Baker only responded with a small smile and followed his roommate's instructions. After a couple of minutes of casual conversation and Anton claiming that they were indeed his sweatpants (they one hundred percent weren't) Paul Baker was starting to get that creeping warmth in his chest once again.

Fuck it.

Paul Baker took a long draw from the glass pipe, watching the ribbons of smoke dissipate in the air surrounding them, and finally spilled his guts. “Anton, it wasn’t just the kiss.”

Anton, who was scrolling through ASMR TikToks on his phone, looked up in confusion. "Huh?"

"When we were in the car, I said I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It wasn't just that." Paul Baker clarified. Anton furrowed a brow, trying to understand what exactly the other man was getting at.

Paul Baker took his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing anxiously as he thought of the right words to say. "I have this feeling when I’m around you, I just—I’ve never felt like this before. Not with Issa—not with anyone. Whenever I’m near you you just emit this overwhelming—like lightness. Like feeling the sun on bare skin, kind of lightness. It’s magnetic—impossible to ignore.” Anton's eyes softened with a mutual understanding.

"Ok, that was like, shockingly poetic." Anton murmured, gently drawing shapes on the back of his roommate's hand. "Paul Baker, I don't know if I could—" Anton started, guilt coloring his tone, before the other man cut him off.

“I broke up with Issa because of you.”

Anton gave him a bewildered look, took the bong from his hands, and drew in a long, leisurely hit. Paul Baker opened his mouth to continue, but Anton immediately held up a finger.

He took another hit.

Only then did he lower his hand.

“Okay. Now you can continue.”

"All that other stuff I told you about the first time played a role in it, sure—but Anton, every time we got…intimate I couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to have you under me instead of her—and I know it's really fucked up, and that's why I had to break up with her. She deserves someone who has her in mind always."

Anton only stared, unblinking.

"I know, I know, I'm not asking you to do anything, or reciprocate anything. I love Issa and the last thing I would want to do is hurt her, but I need to be true to myself, and I can't do that without telling you how I feel." The air hung thick around them, the air mattress denting as Anton moved to further close the space between them.

Before he could process what was happening a hand was brushing the side of his jaw, and he felt the damp warmth of another pair of lips on his. The kiss was slow, a show of everything left unsaid between the two of them. Paul Baker moved to deepen the kiss, hands wandering under the elastic waistband of Anton's (well, his) sweatpants.

Shit, they probably shouldn't be doing this, Paul Baker thought, but as quickly as it entered his mind, Anton removed it with his hand gently grazing his inner thigh. Anton broke their kiss with a string of saliva following him to the other man's neck.

The man licked and nipped his way further down, fidgeting with the bottom of Paul Baker's white tee, signaling for him to take it off—Like a good boy—Paul Baker listened. Just before he moved to lower the basketball shorts that were in his way, Anton broke out of his Paul Baker-induced trance.

"Are you actually sure you want to do this?" Anton asked, straightening himself back up. In a heartbeat, a pair of lips were passionately smashed against his, giving him his answer.

.

.

.

“So it's not Tyler from Whole Foods, Dylan from line dancing, that one hot orthodontist…" Paul Baker was thrown from his thoughts as the two women loudly entered the house.

"Oh maybe it's the guy he met in line to get his antidepressants," Issa added, setting down a bag full of dildos, paddles, whips, and two large Granny Smith apples. He looked back to see the object of his frequent daydreams trailing behind them before settling backwards on the couch. He smiled to himself as he put his cake batter-filled pans in the oven, feeling his shoulders slump forward with relief he didn't know he needed.

“Oh, Paul Baker! Anton broke his dry spell, and he won't tell us who for some reason." Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"Uhm, I literally told you I want to keep a little mystique in my life. Okay, I don't need to tell you guys everything." Anton replied, elbows propped on the back of the couch.

"You've never had mystique a day in your life. You actually never stop talking." The pseudo house owner said, stepping into the living room.

"Exactly, Samir, which is why I'm going to curate some. I'm trying to re-brand. I'm gonna be like Lorde. "

"You're being ridiculous, Anton just tell us! Paul Baker, do you know anyone specifically interested in black, Jewish, gay men?" Billie said, turning her attention to a flour-coated Paul Baker with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Shit.

"I mean—I don't–" Before continuing, he shifted his gaze to Anton, wildly gesturing behind the group with wide eyes for him to stay quiet. Before he had the chance to speak, Issa started again.

"Oh my god, what if it's Paul Baker? Could you actually imagine?" The woman said with an eye-crinkling laugh. It was then that the Canadian felt a great disturbance in his stomach, threatening to make its way out. Oh god.

"That kiss was so steamy I wouldn't put it past you." She said, turning away to playfully wag her finger at Anton.

"You are hilarious, girl! Really, like so, so funny." Anton laughed out obnoxiously loud, trying his best to hide the sheer panic in his eyes.

"No, like you would actually find me hanging from my g-strings if that happened." She said, miming her dead body hanging from an imaginary string on the ceiling. Just as Issa doubled over in laughter, the disturbance in Paul Baker's stomach was about to make an appearance.

"I'm gonna fucking ralph." He said, gagging as he rushed to the bathroom.

"Wait, what's wrong with you?" Samir called out to the hallway.

"Weird milk—" Paul Baker responded, bile muffling his words.

—

"You know, Bills, I really didn't think you had it in you, but you really showed that man's baby carrot who's boss." Anton complimented while pouring his second Coke and tequila. They were all celebrating Billie's first successful Fin-Dom client and her now significantly less empty bank account.

"Why, a-thank you. But I couldn't do it without Iss." Billie stated, giving an exaggerated bow and more than tipsy sway.

"Ugh, anytime. Honestly, Davis needed an outlet, I'm just glad he's not DMing me his little wiener anymore." Issa added, taking a healthy swig of whatever concoction she and Billie made with seven almost empty bottles.

"Okay, you guys are about to get cut off. I don't need any more vomit on my parents' carpet today." Samir said from his place on the couch.

"Stop being a little bitch boy and press play." Billie demanded, setting down her cup.

While the sounds of Mr. Saxobeat on Just Dance emanated from the living room, Paul Baker was putting the finishing touches of icing on Billie's cake when Anton padded into the kitchen.

"Hey." He greeted in a small experimental tone, testing the waters of their now blurred connection.

"Hi…" Paul Baker gave him back a thin-lipped grin before checking to see if anyone was within hearing distance.

"Paul Baker, I just wanted to say—" the sound of gagging and half a bottle of Tito's coming back out of the blonde cut off their conversation.

"Are you fucking serious?! Billie I'm docking your pay to get a carpet guy." Samir yelled, grabbing a handful of paper towels.

"She's wasted, isn't she?" Paul Baker questioned.

"Oh, absolutely. Oh god and that means Issa is about to—"

"Everybody stay calm! Billie needs Marchiano's orange soup right this instant or we might lose her." Issa demanded.

"Orange soup? Ew, what the hell is that?" Paul Baker put down his piping bag and questioned the man beside him.

"Believe me, it's actually disgusting, but Billie swears that's the only thing that helps her. It was a thing from college." Anton explained. The place was a shitty, unhygienic, hole in the wall on the complete other side of Queens, and Anton couldn't stand going. He saw a rat steal a man's Air-pod in that restaurant once—never again.

"Count me out, I'm sure the rats there are carrying the plague." He called out from his place at the island.

"Fine. Paul Baker, give me your keys. You two babysit Billie. Samir, let's roll out."

"Whoa, aren't you drunk?" Paul Baker realized while fishing his keys out of his pocket.

"First of all, no, I'm tipsy. Second of all, I'm an amazing drunk driver." Paul Baker could only respond with a look of disbelief as he made his way to help Billie from her position sprawled on the floor.

"I'll–I'll drive, yeah," Samir said, grabbing the keys from the way more relieved man.

"Thank fucking god." Paul Baker responded.

As he walked an inebriated Billie back to her room he thought of all the things that needed to be said between him and his roommate—it was a lot. Paul Baker isn't stupid—he usually knows how these types of things end up. They were both high off their asses and Anton would probably chalk the whole thing up to a heavily intoxicated mistake they can laugh about later on.

He really doesn't want it to be a mistake.

—

After a little while of tending to Billie's deathbed requests, the house had finally gone quiet—save for Anton's anxious humming, harmonizing with the low groan of the refrigerator.

"Do you think she'll fall asleep?" Paul Baker whispered as he entered the kitchen.

"She threw up half a bottle of vodka, and asked me if the carpet was mad at her—she's going to be wishing she never wakes up, believe me."

Paul Baker nodded. "Fair enough."

They were alone finally, and every part of Anton's body suddenly wished they weren't. He leaned up against the marble countertop, nursing the remains of his drink as he watched the other man wiping down globs of icing from the island in silence.

Ok, great—avoidance wins again. He knew they would have to talk about it eventually; he just wished eventually would come next week, or better yet— never.

"Hey, about earlier—what we're going to say before, you know?" Paul Baker gestured towards the stairs.

Eventually was now, apparently.

"O-oh, I was going to say that you…have frosting on your face." Anton said, taking a swig from his cup.

Paul Baker immediately wiped his cheek.

"No, other side." Paul Baker gave him a timid smile as he wiped the other side, effectively smearing it farther across.

Why did he have to be so goddamn cute?

"Jesus Christ."

Anton shook his head and stepped closer before he reached out and brushed the smear away with his thumb, the digit lingering a second too long.

The motion was quick, but still Paul Baker stood unblinking, eyes completely transfixed on the slight part of his mouth.

"Anton, about yesterday—" Paul Baker started just as the other man returned to his spot against the countertops, taking yet another swig. He was going to be joining Billie if he kept it up.

"You don't have to do the whole—" Anton added quickly.

"We need to talk about it, Ant."

"Right, sure." Anton huffed out before crossing his arms protectively.

A beat passed as Paul Baker moved to be beside him, foot tapping anxiously against the linoleum.

"It doesn't have to mean anything." Anton started. "We can just forget the whole thing happened."

Paul Baker's expression changed to something Anton hadn't seen on him often—disappointment.

"You want to forget?" Paul Baker questioned

Anton shrugged. "I think it's probably for the best."

"The best for who?"

"The best for literally the entire house." Anton exclaimed, softly chewing on a nail for comfort. "Friendcest destroys groups, much less roommates." He added. "I'm not saying it wasn't….nice—"

"Just nice?" Paul Baker butted in with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"Do you want me to pick a stronger adjective?" He replied with a smirk.

"No, I want you to stop pretending it was just sex." He responded with a slight chuckle. "Anton, I want you."

He went completely still.

Paul Baker bit his cheeks anxiously as if he wanted to put the words back in his mouth—but he continued.

"I don't know what that means yet, and I don't know what happens after this." He continued. "I'm just tired of pretending like everything is fucking strawberry cake and tequila. I don't know this guy." He said, pointing to himself.

"The guy who goes around hooking up with his ex's best friends, and I feel fucking awful about it. I know this whole thing is kind of fucked, and I don't know how everyone is going to react." He paused for a beat, making unwavering eye contact."But I know I want you, and I'm sick of pretending I don't."

Anton stared back, carefully choosing his next words on why it could never happen, but in the midst of his internal battle, he realized he wanted to be selfish, just this once.

"People are going to have opinions."

Paul Baker smiled sadly before lacing his fingers in between Anton's and responding. "People always have opinions."

"The friend group could explode" Anton added.

The Canadian brought his hands to his lips, and peppered small kisses. "That's a risk I'm willing to take for you." He grinned. "Don't get me wrong, I'm scared shitless." Anton laughed quietly.

"We may need to hide all the sharp objects in the house. Issa has a black belt."

"Yeah, it's probably for the best." Paul Baker responded with a chuckle.

They stared at each other for a beat.

Anton threw his arms around Paul Baker's neck, and carded through the short hair on his nape.

"How long do you think we have until they get back?" Paul Baker asked with a smirk, sliding his hands around the other man's waist.

"If traffic's bad—it probably is—we have at least thirty more minutes," Anton replied. "Forty, if Issa felt the need to make an entirely new playlist like she does for every drive."

"Why does she do that, again?"

"I really do not know." Anton replied with a soft grin. As they stood in the kitchen, wrapped around each other, something darker entered the Canadian's mind as he slid his hands under Anton's shirt.

"God, what are we going to do with all of that time?" Paul Baker joked with a suggestive eyebrow.

"I have some ideas," Anton responded, finally connecting their lips. In one swift motion, Anton was on top of the counter with his roommate's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Hey, I just came down to get some water—oh!" Billie said as she entered the kitchen just as Paul Baker removed his wife-beater and started kissing a path down the other man's neck. The two men almost jumped out of their bones as they moved quickly to separate.

"I…uh guess I found the mysterious spell breaker." She trailed off with a timid smile.

"You're supposed to be unconscious," Anton said with a guilty look on his face.

"And you both have some explaining to do." She said, motioning between the two of them. "But first, let me get my weed. Tito and I aren't friends right now, and I'm getting too sober for this conversation."

"Uh, Bills, about that—you're gonna laugh–" Anton trailed off.

Paul Baker still stood silent, looking to the man beside him with an eye-crinkling smile. Who knew what the hell was going to happen next?

Maybe everything was going to fall apart.

Maybe he'd lose all his friends

Maybe he'd have his dick cut off.

But Paul Baker knew that, for the first time in a long time, he was living for himself, and he wouldn't change a thing about it.