Black Friday is not a shopping day in the Decort house. They observe one religious holiday and it's today, their preordained day of rest. If Sage sees his parents before noon, it's in passing to get sustenance from the kitchen.

     So he gets to spend the morning in bed with no one questioning it. If yesterday hadn't happened, he'd probably have gotten up to check on Sam by now, but, as it stands, he's not sure he can look the boy in the eye. Not after last night.

     Seeing him naked? Rough but survivable. Being seen naked? Also rough and also survivable. Jerking off to the sounds of him jerking off without him even knowing? Fucking fantastic, but definitely not survivable. 100% a thing that could send Sage to the grave. And he'd willingly go! He's happy to go. Anything to avoid Sam.

     He has no idea if Sam's even awake, or has left his room. He heard him in the bathroom earlier, but otherwise he's been silent.

     He texts Calla.

     Sage: Did you see sam this morning?
     Calla: Neg. Been in bed all day tho. Why?

     Sage types back jw and drops his phone on his covers. He should get up, but he's dreading it, dreading the whole day and the rest of the weekend with Sam. He should be ashamed, but when he thinks about last night, he's excited all over again, this furious rush through his stomach. It feels like the beginning of something.

     His phone goes off twice. He lifts it, expecting the texts to be from Calla. One is, the other is from Sam. He opens Calla's first because Sam's name on his phone has spiked his heart rate.

     Calla: I'm gonna order brunch. Send me what you and sam want

     Sage types back ok hang on. He opens the text from Sam.

     Sam: are you awake?

     Sage stares at his phone screen, feeling ridiculous. Sam doesn't know what he did last night and he doesn't know that Sage knows what he did last night on the other side of the bathroom door and so it's just something Sage will have to bury in the recesses of his mind.

     Sage: yeah just woke up. Calla's ordering brunch. You want anything? I'll send you the menu.

     He googles the spot they frequent and then sends the link to Sam.

     Sam: whatever you get is fine
     Sage: ok
     Sam: just no pork
     Sage: I remember
     Sage: I usually get their scrambled eggs platter.  I can sub turkey bacon for you? Also comes with toast and home fries.
     Sam: that works

     Sage sends their orders over to Calla and she thumbs up's it.

     Sam: so are we leaving Sunday? Or did you want to go back tomorrow?
     Sage: I can do either or. Do you want to leave tomorrow?
     Sam: I'll stay if you want to stay or we can leave if you're ready to go. Makes no difference to me.

     Sage thinks about it. His dad's coming into the city next week to see what he's been working on. If he makes dinner plans with his mom, he won't feel bad about ducking out early.

     Sage: I'll get us tickets for tomorrow
     Sam: let me know how much and I'll Venmo you
     Sage: shut up
     Sam: don't tell me to shut up that's fucking rude sage
     Sage: I'm the one that dragged you here
     Sam: you did not drag me. I'm an autonomous human being who made the decision to come here.
     Sam: speaking of, we should probably finish this work and send over to olekev
     Sam: *it over
     Sage: that's not really a speaking of, but yeah we should
     Sage: we'll work after we eat?

     Sam: sounds good

     Sage is surprised. Pleasantly so. Everything seems normal between them. 

❧

     Nothing is normal, Sam decides. But he's going to pretend like hell it is. Even if he is freaking dying, and he is. It's not like an I'm dying from the mortification of yesterday kind of dying, it's an I'm dying because I'm trying to keep myself from doing something stupid kind of dying.

     Sam's never been filled with so many urges. They're strong enough that he's now convinced they aren't all that new and he's just repressed them for the last few years. When he met Sage, had he really wanted to punch him in the face or did he just want to kiss his face? Can you want to both punch and kiss someone at the same time?

     Sage texts him when the food's here and he catches him in the hallway. They have this weird stilted moment where they lock eyes and neither of them says anything. Sage sort of waves Sam ahead of him before following him downstairs.

     Calla eats with them in the living room, and she's put on 21 Jump Street, which Sam's never seen. He enjoys it so when they finish eating, they don't stop the movie and afterwards Calla's like well you've gotta see the second one so they watch that, too.

     And at that point Sam's ready for more food. They weigh their options, ordering in again or Thanksgiving leftovers, and air on the side of leftovers so Sage's mom doesn't flip out.

     "Will she flip out, though?" Sam had asked. Nora didn't seem like the type to him. She had this air about her like the sky could literally fall and she would just step out of the way while it did.

     "Oh definitely," Calla had answered. "We've got to have at least two leftover meals to avoid upsetting her."

     "She'll claim she's never cooking for thanksgiving again," Sage had added.

     So they did leftovers, and somehow that led to them deep diving into Jonah Hill's greatest works—This is the End and then Moneyball. Calla ditched them during Moneyball but Sam hardly noticed. He didn't realize how much TV he hadn't watched in the last few years. Mostly because he didn't prioritize downtime but also because he only paid for Netflix.

     Sage is a Brad Pitt enthusiast, so when Moneyball ends he insists Sam watch Inglorious Bastards next.

      It's nine o'clock by the time they finish the movie and while they haven't done anything all day except sleep, eat, and watch movies, Sam's tired.

      He says as much, yawning over his words. "I don't think I'm going to be able to focus for research, honestly."

     "My brain wasn't having it today anyway," Sage responds with a shrug.

     "What time's our train tomorrow?"

     "One pm," Sage tells him.

      "We could maybe work before or after?"

     "Or we could just hold off till Sunday?"

     "Sunday?" Sam repeats.

     "Yeah. I really need a good night's sleep in my own bed."

     Sam frowns. "Is that not your bed upstairs?"

     "I mean in my own place. On my own."

      Sam get's that. He can't wait to not be occupying a space with Sage for a little bit. "Okay, so we'll meet at my place Sunday, then?"

     Sage nods, getting up from the couch. Sam watches him stand and stretch his arms above his head. His sweatshirt rises, revealing a sliver of lower belly. Sam wants to lick the patch of skin below his bellybutton, wants to know if the peach fuzz tastes like peaches.

❧

     Calla isn't thrilled they're leaving Saturday but she gets it. At least, she says so. Sage isn't sure that she does. In the past, he's rushed to get away from home because being there is just one giant constant reminder that Hudson's not here anymore.

     Now he's running for a different reason. Trying to put space between him and Sam and the memories of this week. It's an impossibility when Sam lives across the hall from him and is his research partner. But they'll go back to meeting once a week and in the meantime maybe Sage should get back on Tinder for a bit. Can you fuck someone else out of your head? Probably not but he can certainly try. Sage desperately needs to get laid.

     His mom, dad and Calla all come to drop them off at the train station, which is a little weird. A bit heavy of a goodbye when Sage is just a train ride or even a few subway stops away, depending on where they are. Especially when he already has plans to see both his parents next week.

     His parents hug Sam goodbye and Sam takes it surprisingly well, doesn't get all tense the way he has a tendency to do. Calla doesn't hug him but she does make a low remark Sage can't hear before slugging him in the arm. Sam's blushing. For the briefest of moments, Sage thinks they're flirting and is hit with searing jealousy.

     He knows they're not. Knows Calla wouldn't just based off of what she perceives to be true about Sam and Sage. The problem isn't that he thinks Calla and Sam could have a thing, it's that he's jealous, jealous of this farfetched idea. He doesn't want to see Sam with anyone. (He doesn't really want to be with anyone, either, but he was serious about the getting laid bit, it's been too long and he's too keyed up lately.)

     They don't sit in the business section this time, opting for the regular seats even though that puts them side-by-side for four hours. Sam takes the window seat and Sage makes sure they're facing the right direction before he settles in himself.

     "Your mom gave me a Benadryl for the ride," Sam says after a moment. "So I'm probably gonna knock out."

     Sage nods. "That's fine."

      That's all they say and then they're quiet for the rest of the ride. Sam shifts his body towards the window, letting his head rest against the glass. He's asleep within the hour. Sage has half a mind to go to sleep, too. He's still ridiculously tired, but he thinks it's a mental fatigue. Too much has and hasn't happened.

     He's dozing when his phone goes off. A text from Calla.

     Calla: mom and dad think you and sam are fucking

     Sage jerks and then looks at Sam, who's out cold. His heart is thrumming in the back of his throat, making him dizzy. He types back quickly.

     Sage: JESUS CALLA COME ON
     Calla: what!! THEY said it, not me. Though I WAS thinking it 😌
     Calla: actually mom said you two were fucking, dad says you two are ✨in love✨
     Calla: So are you in love?

     Sage keeps glancing at Sam like he's going to wake up and know they're talking about him. In love? Of course they're not in love. They're not even in like. They're in a ceasefire.

     Sage: no and we're not sleeping together either
     Calla: that's what everyone who IS sleeping together says
     Sage: this is ridiculous
     Sage: Sam and I aren't even friends
    Calla: What are you talking about???? Ofc you're friends. You guys are the broiest of business bros
     Sage: no we have a cease fire that's it
     Calla: idgi
     Calla: Is cease fire a euphemism
     Calla: WAIT IS THAT YOUR SAFE WORD
     Sage: I cannot we are so casually talking about my sex life. I'm severely uncomfortable. Sam and I are not and will not ever do anything of the sexual persuasion
     Sage: *cannot believe
     Calla: don't be so vanilla

     Sage rubs at his jaw. Vanilla? He is not vanilla. He is realistic and realistically Sam doesn't like him at all, can barely tolerate him most days. And even though he can draw up an exact image of Sam's dick in his head means nothing. And just because the thought of it turns him on also means nothing.

     Sage: I'm changing the subject
     Sage: what should we get mom and dad for xmas
     Calla: funny you say that cause I was thinking we should send them away for the holidays
     Sage: you can't afford that
     Calla: No but you can
     Calla: Come on mr tiktok famestar
     Sage: shhhh that's not even true
     Calla: You hit a mill followers ur famous
     Calla: You know you're eventually gonna have to reveal who you are right
     Sage: over my dead body
     Sage: We could buy them tickets to phuket
     Sage: They've got the timeshare there
     Calla: Yes but the important thing is we get the tickets for break
     Sage: Why are you trying to get rid of mom and dad
     Calla: Bc I really wanna throw a nye party
     Calla: Supervised by my amazing big brother
     Calla: Who loves me so very much
     Calla: And would do anything for me 🥺
     Sage: Anything but this
     Calla: and who will also be providing the alcoholic beverages for said party

     Sage: I haven't agreed to anything
     Calla: Ruthie would be down
     Sage: She would most definitely not be down to party with underage kids

     Calla: You would be saving my social life

     Sage: Your social life needs no saving
     Calla: It does. It really took a hit after the drugged thing.
     Sage: HOW?! If anyone's should've taken a hit it should be the asshole who drugged you
     Calla: Yeah but you guys came and sam hit the one and now everyone thinks I'm like a snitch baby

     Sage: Cal these aren't the people you need to be impressing
     Calla: I know that but they are the people I'm in school with for the next two years so will you do it? Pretty please? I will owe you so big. Hugely. I'll wingwoman for you.
     Sage: I don't need a wingwoman
     Calla: You need all the help you can get with Sam. It's painful watching you with him.
     Sage: How do we keep coming back to this? I will think about the party. In the meantime look up tickets for mom and dad

     Sage turns his phone to Do Not Disturb but he doesn't go to sleep. He stays awake, watching Sam, wondering if this is all there is and all he'll ever get.

❧

     Sam's been home for one day and he is going crazy.

     If the break at Sage's taught him anything at all, it is that he very plainly has a Sage problem. A sexual problem, that is. And while he's never really thought about his sexuality too concretely, he didn't think the first male he'd be attracted to would be Sage. He didn't think he'd ever be attracted to Sage period.

     Like why is he attracted to him. Yeah, okay, so he's pretty but he's also a douchey princess. Less douchey now that he's gotten to know him, and less of a princess than he expected (his parents are shockingly down to earth?) and evidently more thoughtful than he ever knew, and sometimes really nice and yeah, he can also be funny.

     So Sam maybe does get where the attraction is coming from.

     The thing is now he's got to figure out what to do about it because he's got a whole ass semester to spend working with him and if Olekev's email from this morning is any indication, they're going to be pulling crazy hours to help her.

     Sam decides he's going to address it. He has to because otherwise he's going to go crazy and be useless to Olekev and probably fail his last semester and never get a job and have to pack up and move back home. None of that is an option. So.

     He's addressing it. It's decided.

     They've made plans to meet at his place Sunday night. Sam had taken time off from work for the weekend, having expected to spend the whole of it at Sage's place. All the extra hours of sleep haven't cured him of his dark circles but they have been thoroughly enjoyed. Sam misses having consecutive nights of good sleep. 

     Sam knows the drill at this point and has take-out menus on hand. They're moving into Asian restuarants now, which is Sam's favorite. Sage doesn't knock when he gets there, has passed the pretense for it and just walks in. Sam leaves his door unlocked for this reason.

     "Hey," Sage says coolly, walking over to the couch to drop his bag.

     Sam's eyes follow him inadvertently. Follows the sway of his hips as he walks. Sage is dressed in a very Sage-like outfit, an oversized black button up that's more unbuttoned than not and light blue jeans he's rolled at his ankles. He's not dressed for comfort and Sam wonders where he was before this that he didn't change. On a date?

     Sage turns back to Sam and Sam picks up the menu options, shuffling them to look like he was doing anything but staring. "Olekev's email — like is she on crack?" Sage asks with a laugh.

     It's business as usual for him, which Sam doesn't get. Sage had been in that bathroom with him. Had seen Sam, all of him, had blatantly stared, too. And Sage had pulled his underwear off without ceremony in response. Maybe being naked around people was no big deal to him. He certainly fucked around enough if Sam was keeping record (which he was.) It was a big deal for Sam, though. Barely a handful of people had ever seen him naked.

     "I mean if she pulls all this shit off she's going to be a legend," Sam responds, trying to sound just as casual. His heart rate has spiked and he's thinking of any good reason not to address it tonight.

     A good reason: he has no idea how to address it.

     So hey, Sage, here's the thing — I've kind of been having very insane sexual urges revolving around you. And so if you could do or say something positively atrocious so I can stop being attracted to you that would be fantastic. In layman's terms, can you make me hate you again? Because it was so much simpler when I did.

     Yeah, no, he can't address it. He's going to say nothing and just die, instead. It's good. It's noble, even.

     They've got a bunch of work to catch up on so they waste no time jumping into it, sitting together on the floor and dividing the tasks between them. They get the bulk of their research done before they've even ordered food since it's when they're most productive. Once they start eating and drinking beers, they do more talking about their work than actual working.

     Sage is sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the couch beside Sam. The lights are low and catching in his hair, pulling out the blond in it. He never shaves exactly, just trims his facial hair, and he's touched it up today so everything's clean and even. It makes Sam wonder again if he went on a date this afternoon.

     Sage dips his chopsticks back into the to-go box to his left, twirling the noodles before he lifts them to his mouth, tipping his head back to take the whole mouthful.

     Sam watches, bleary-eyed because its late and he got up early to workout, do his laundry, and finish up any homework assignments that were due, but he doesn't feel it. Feels like he could not get more wide awake if he did a line of cocaine off of his micro textbook. Why does Sage's neck look so good drawn back like that.

     He fucking hates this. He really does.

     He looks down at the papers in his lap. He's starting to leave greasy fingerprints on them so he shoves them to the floor and picks up a container of orange chicken to busy his hands. He needs to busy them. Because otherwise they might just reach over and wrap themselves around Sage's neck. Not to kill him. He'd take away all the oxygen just to give himself a reason to lean over and put his mouth on his. I'm saving you Sage, Sam would say as he forced his mouth open and pushed a damp breath into it. Let me.

     "Stop hogging the chicken," Sage says suddenly, reaching over and dipping his chopsticks into the container. Sam's eating with a fork, is distinctly not adept with chopsticks though he's certainly impressed by Sage's skill. Sage, who's chest is pressed against his shoulder as he leans in to take some chicken and pop it into his mouth. His mouth is close too, shiny with grease and spit and rose red.

     "Here," Sam says and presses the box into Sage's chest, who fumbles to take it, leaning back away from Sam. Sam grabs the beer beside him, tells himself to take a sip to take the edge off but kicks back the whole thing.

     They aren't enemies here on the floor with the to-go boxes and the laptops who's screens have gone to sleep and the paperwork and the graphs. No matter how much Sam reminds himself that this is Sage, who he's been competing with since he was a freshman, who he's only working with because he couldn't best him, number one enemy and chronic pain in his ass, it doesn't matter. His brain knows exactly who Sage is but his body does not care. His body wants him, anyway.

     And Sam is tired of fighting it. Fighting something he doesn't understand and has no idea how to beat.

     Sam's put back his fourth beer. He only buys IPAs and he's regretting that now, feeling the effects of it, which may also be his meds. Sage is on his third but he's bigger than him, probably has a better tolerance for it and doesn't have to compete with the side effects of mixing alcohol with medications.

     Sage's cheeks are bright red, but he always gets flushed when he drinks with Sam. It looks like he's wearing blush, it's so vibrant on his cheeks. It looks good. Sam wants to take a bite out of him.

     "What's that look?" Sage asks, his voice a whisper.

     Sam's staring. He's been caught staring. "No look," he says quickly turning away. He reaches for his beer but it's empty. He's got nothing to do with his hands so he places them palm down on the floor, pressing them into the wood.

     Sage quirks an eyebrow. "That was definitely a look."     

     "Okay, so it was a look. I don't know. I've got a face, you know, and it makes looks," Sam says and what is he even saying. He has no idea but he knows it was defensive. Unreasonably defensive for Sage who's tone is casual. He's so casual it's actually irking Sam. Did any of what happened matter to Sage at all?

     Apparently his tone is not defensive enough because Sage, who's closer than Sam remembers him being, nudges him with his shoulder and goes, "Explain the look. You're thinking something."

     "What makes you say that?"

     "Cause you always make that face when you're thinking, like you've got an idea but it's not a very nice one. It's the same face you made before you closed the elevator doors on me the first time."

     Sam balks. "I didn't do it the first time. That was you."

     Sage shakes his head, laughing lightly. "No, Sam, it was one hundred percent you."

     Sam frowns. He could've sworn it was Sage. He was sure that he'd only started hating him after Sage expressed his hatred first. Had he been the first one to close the elevator? He wonders what would've happened if he hadn't.

     Nothing, obviously. They hated each other long before they started slamming elevator doors in each other's faces.

     Sage has a nice face. It's pretty (perfect jaw and perfect facial hair, slanted eyes that make Sage look like he's up to no good, which directly negates his soft smile, all charm.)

     Sam gets an idea. It's a bold one, a potentially bad one, but either the lack of sleep or the beer or the late hours are making him feel pretty good about it. Feels like it'll go in his favor. Maybe it's because Sage is mirroring his look and hasn't looked away.

     Sage clears his throat, glancing away like Sam's thinking out loud. "I forget sometimes how green your eyes actually are."

     He says his name and Sage turns back to look at him. Sam uses the hand that's on the floor between them as leverage as he turns his body and lifts himself up towards Sage.

     He gets to his shoulder, chin hovering just near his clavicle before Sage whispers, "What're you doing?" This close Sam can smell Sage's cologne, light, floral almost, with a masculine hint. Same cologne he always wear, pulling the same response it always does from Sam. He wants to lick the scent off of his neck.

     "For research purposes," Sam says and the collar of Sage's shirt tickles his chin. He is that close. He could close the distance between their mouths just by his hand giving out. It's the only thing keeping him suspended where he is.

     Sage repeats back, confused, "For research purposes?"

     Sam swallows. Shit that was dumb. His eyes dart over Sage's face looking for anything to go off of but Sage's expression is neutral. Sam fumbles with a response but then he decides fuck it. He's too far in now. It's win or lose.

     "Yeah, so uh, I think that for research purposes you should let me kiss you."

     It's really not supposed to work.

     But Sage says, "Ok."

     And—

❧

     It works. Kissing Sam absolutely works. Sage feels it before he even leans in. Feels the anticipation build in his chest and breach the walls of muscle so it breaks out like dew across his skin.

     The first press of Sam's lips is soft and wet. It's not a tease but a test. Sam wants to see if he's going to react, maybe. If he's going to push him away. And he's not. Sage has been waiting for this. Wanting it so badly he couldn't even fully capacitate the want, had to hide it in himself because it was too much to fully recognize.

     And now that's he got it? Yeah, no, he's not letting Sam off that easy.

     He reaches up, pressing his thumb against the center of Sam's neck. His fingers circle around the back and he holds on with enough force to pull Sam towards him. His elbow buckles under him and Sam's weight comes down on Sage.

     Good. It's what he wanted. He's going to destroy Sam. If this is all he gets, this one moment where Sam wants to test or try something out, if this is just for research purposes, well, Sage is going to make a mockery of the numbers. He's going to make sure every result is inconclusive. He's going to make Sam come back and try to figure this out again.

     Sam's kissing him with unexpected skill. It's reserved, a contained thing, like Sam's afraid to let go. Sage wants him to, wants to know exactly what it tastes like when Sam's undone. He opens his mouth and presses his tongue against Sam's lips. Sam parts for him and Sage dips his tongue into his mouth.

     Sam groans, such a soft sound Sage would've missed it if he hadn't turned all his senses up, if he hadn't told his brain to take every second of this moment and savor it.

     Sam is shifting, sliding a knee over Sage's leg so he can move into his lap. It's a good indication that this isn't about to stop any time soon and Sage has no interest in stopping, not until he's unraveled Sam and planted himself inside him. So Sam can never forget him. Because he has a feeling he's going to try to after this.

❧

     Sam's gonna fucking die.

     No, wait, he's already dying. That's what this is. And he's prepared to die everyday for the rest of his life. Because he needs this all the time. Needs Sage's hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth. Needs to feel the strength of his thighs under him.

     Sage is kissing his soul, kissing him so deeply its distorting his memories, and changing everything about him, changing his whole chemical makeup, taking him from solid to liquid. And Sam can't believe he was fighting this. Has spent the last four years fighting this, when he could've spent the last four years doing this.

    He's holding onto Sage's shoulders, fingers curving and digging into the muscle. It feels like a safe place to keep his hands because he's nervous to touch him, nervous that he'll do it wrong and Sage will be able to tell he has no idea what he's doing. He kind of wishes he'd practiced this a few times with someone else before him because Sage knows exactly what he's doing. Sage is good at this.

     He tilts Sam's head back so he can rake his mouth over his chin and down his neck. His facial hair burns as it rubs across his skin. Sage nips at the bony line of his trachea before he plants a kiss next to it. And then he pulls the skin into his mouth, sucking hard and Sam makes a sound from deep in this throat, unexpected and unexpectedly husky. He's never made that sound before. Doesn't recognize it.

     Sam's being transported out of his body and has subsequently lost all control of his body. He moves his hands up Sage's shoulders so they're bracketing his neck and he can touch the couch cushion behind his head. His fingers clench at the fabric as he arches into Sage's chest. Every time Sage nips at his neck, Sam feels like his dicks being tugged to attention. And then he realizes it's because his dick is at attention and he's in Sage's lap.

     And without thinking, without really deciding to, he grinds down and it's so good he gasps and Sage bites down hard and he's moaning loudly, wanting to shift his hips again, wanting to get the clothes between them out of the way and that's when his brain decides to point out the fact he is in Sage's lap with a hard on that could take down the Titanic.

❧

     Sam goes still and Sage doesn't know how he knows but he knows something's off, something's changed and so he pulls away, looking up at him tentatively. Sam's eyes are closed, his lips are puckered and swollen and he's taking unusually long deep breaths through his nose.

     He opens his eyes only long enough to slide out of Sage's lap, pressing his back against the couch beside him. Sage doesn't know what to say but he thinks he should say something. His brain supplies hey it's no big deal but he's learned that Sam actually hates when he minimizes situations.

     So instead he says, "I'm gonna — I'm gonna go."

     Because in his infinite wisdom that feels like the best option and, anyway, it's not like Sam stops him.