they wish they were us | conan gray

12. father church

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Ashole 

Conan: omg omg his blue silk pjs fell out of his bag

Conan: i have pink matching ones. i m dying. i dying ashley

Conan: i m sure hes supposed to be the love of my life

Ashley: shut up and GO DONT STALL

Conan: he's so cute. his floppy and wavy hair, almost bangs, the way he smiles and expresses extreme happiness 

Conan: i m sure two year old me had a crush on him too 

Ashley: yeah, u showed me the photo. u grabbing his hand as he ignored u was desperate asf

Conan: SHUT 

Conan: i m breathing. 

Ashley: u sure?

Conan: LET ME LIVE I M GONNA DIE 

Conan: he gives me butterflies

Conan: hunter gave me brain damage

Ashley: u might give him brain damage if u dont tell him

Conan: in a few days 

Ashley: i ll kill u if u dont

Conan: mwah

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"Guess what? I named the baby racoons," Noah says with excitement Conan rarely sees him express. He pushes his hair out of his face which is mundane gesture that shouldn't have Conan sweating bullets or make his knees go weak. "There were three. I called them Penelope after me being penniless, Gatorade because cats are called Gato in Spanish and she looked like a cat and Father Church."

"Father Church?" Conan smiles, sitting next to him on the bed with a bottle of nail polish and remover, in case things get out of hand. Noah's spontaneity is one of the most attractive things about him. Conan could talk to him for days and never get bored. He always comes up with new things, new things in old things and the way his brain sees the world is just beautiful. "Why not Noah Junior?"

"Ew, I don't want them to think I am their father or something," Noah says, cringing at the thought of mating with a raccoon. His eyes skim over the nail polish in Conan's lap. His face brightens at the unopened bottle of pastel green. Okay, maybe Conan planned this. "Want me to paint yours?"

"If it isn't good, I will take your first born," Conan says with a smile, holding out his hand. 

"You can take Noah Junior then," Noah snorts, grabbing hold of his hand. Sparks shoot up Conan's spine immediately and his breathing loses it's uniformity. Noah's fingers curl around his palm. He uncaps the nail polish with his other hand- only one other hand- as if getting to hold Conan's hand is a priority. Getting to hold his hand sure feels heavenly but it leaves him craving more. He prays to fucking Jesus that Noah can't see how he's basically turned into a tomato. When he pushes back his hair, Conan swears what he'd experienced was a seizure. It's like they're connected, what Noah's body does, Conan's always has a reaction to it. When he smooths a nail with the pad of his thumb, he feels as though every cell of him is ticklish and aware of how little distance is between their lips. Noah's very kissable lips. Just as Conan's about to lean and close the distance, Noah looks up with a smile. Directly into his eyes. "Done! The other?"

"Oh yeah..." he says and Noah takes hold of the other one. He places Conan's hand on his bare knee where there's a scar shaped like a crescent moon. "I think you'll have to spare my first born."

"Maybe," Conan murmurs. He's not too focused on how he paints his nails, more so how he can kiss him. Should he ask or- "So, if you don't like Gus, is there someone you like?"

"Yeah..." 

"What is he like?" Like me? Curly haired? Half your race? 

"He's been really nice to me, doing everything to make me comfortable. It feels nice to be prioritized and he's really...um, there's something attractive about his fake arrogance and though he does that, isn't scared to be vulnerable with me...? I just like him," he finishes it with an awkward laugh. That should usually be enough for Conan to deduce that Noah is talking about him but because of the trauma Hunter and Alice have caused him, it does a great job of confusing him. If Noah can basically pen an entire paragraph on him, why can't he tell him he likes him? Why can't Conan's brain believe he is talking about him? Is that how fucking sad Hunter and Alice made him? "Do mine."

Conan takes hold of his right hand and proceeds to paint it with a coat of green. "Man, you don't bite your nails?"

"Isn't that self cannibalism? I don't wanna get into stuff like that."

"You haven't bit off my nails so I am guessing you're doing something right," Conan laughs. "Pastel green is cute but it will clash with your clothes."

When he finishes with Noah's nails, they watch a movie on Conan's laptop, randomly picked. It feels for a while everything is going fine, Noah is occassionally smiling and they're both squeaking and scaring each other in the middle of it. Conan even swears that Noah leans towards his body a little. It feels like he's gonna lay his head on his shoulder, a gesture that Conan anticipates but also feels like will kill him. Conan smiles at Noah's comments and check in questions that pop up very often. He even asks him if he wants water lying on his side of the table. It's like nothing Conan has experienced, being genuinely cared for by someone. 

"She looks like you if you were a real bad boy," Noah says, referring to some character on the screen. 

"I do a lot of bad boy things like....."

"Like?"

Conan clears his throat before responding, "I teach little kids the real meaning behind Nicki Minaj's Anaconda."

"It isn't a metaphor about how Nicki Minaj loves animals, like snakes?" Noah asks, raising an eyebrow. Conan genuinely can't tell if that's sarcasm. Noah glances down at the sheets they're covered in. It's an old and worn one but one of Conan's favorites that has a lot of animals drawn on it. Conan's torso perfectly aligns with the tiger's upper body on the bedsheet which makes him laugh. "The only time you'll be an animal in bed," Noah says. 

Conan grabs him by the shoulders, ignoring how the movie is finally getting some plot. He looks at him with an infuriated glance. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes," he says, his voice clear. Conan decides to go for it then, to take a chance and just peck Noah on the lips. If he doesn't like it, he'll move away and apologise. The rest of the night should be awkward but all Conan cares about is connecting his lips to his'. He puts a little pressure on Noah's shoulders to balance himself and just as when he is about to go in for it, he ends up pushing him into the mattress because of Noah's spine being overwhelmed by the weight and falling on top of him like braids unwhirling. 

*******

a/n: sorry for the short chapter. my head hurts after exams because they make us use transparent plastic bottles and the water heats and its like drinking fucking lava. new chapter tomorrow.