Hot Showers (Ianthony)

Chapter 3

Anthony sat down upon a wooden park bench, fresh bursts of the wind's breath playing through his dark hair. After a moment's debate, he leaned forward, propping his head up by sticking his arm under his chin. Dejected oak eyes peered from his face, but he smiled, in spite of his apparent misery. Sitting up straight, he slung his arm around the waist of a girl sporting turquoise hair.

She had not been there before.

The woman resembled a generic anime character, with huge eyes and tight clothes. Her bond with the world surrounding her manifested itself in her laughter, which sounded like the chimes of small, tinkling bells. Such a happy girl.

He laughed too, and she promptly threw herself across his chest, looking up into those dark eyes of his. Their connection was apparent, and the sadness that had once been present in his eyes disappeared.

#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#

Ian sat up straight, sleep immediately fading out of his tired limbs. What the hell was up with that dream? And who the fuck was that woman?

Oh, you know, just the love of Anthony's life.

He pitched forward, head colliding with now-raised knees. While in the act of fucking Anthony, the voice in his head had not once messed with him. Even when he made his way into his own room to sleep (not that he didn't want to sleep with Anthony; it was just force of habit), his mind hadn't bothered him with its objections. Now, the torment was back.

Miss me?

No.

Aw, that's not very nice, now is it. Actually, it's nice that you're responding in your head for once.

Fuck you.

I thought you got all the fucking out of your system last night when Anthony practically dragged you on him.

Ian didn't even bother responding to the last comment. Replying to himself was going to get him nowhere else in life other than a padded room. Besides, why would he waste the energy when it was time to go film a video for Lunchtime with Smosh? He raised his head to check his bedside Pokemon alarm clock. Yep, Anthony had definitely let him sleep in. It was already twelve.

 He threw his legs over the side of the bed when he noticed his sheets and covers were in a heap on the ground. He sighed and threw the pile of cloth on the foot of his bed, not even bothering to sort through them and make his bed like he did as a teenager. He was a grown-ass man, which meant that childhood chores were no longer priorities. As his feet hit the soft carpet floor, the voice murmured in his ear, You must've had some crazy dream.

You would know.

Right you are, it whispered back.

Irritably, Ian walked over to his closet to grab some shorts and a shirt. After choosing his Domo tee over his dragon scales shirt, he threw on some cargo shorts and decked the designated shirt. Then, he rushed out of his room to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss.

After using the restroom, he spritzed on some not-so-strong cologne and dashed out to the living room to find Anthony. To his surprise, the man of the hour was missing. Before he could begin to panic, he heard the beginnings of a one-sided garbled conversation. He unconsciously switched from walking on the flats of his feet to the tips of his toes before he crept back down the hall, stopping right outside Anthony's door when he realized the voice was coming from his room. Hesitantly, he turned the door knob.

What, afraid of what you'll find?

Ian gently pushed the door opened to find Anthony still fast asleep, mouth agape and small phrases escaping his lips. Ian tiptoed over and listened intently on Anthony's sleep talk.

"Mmm... Yeah, I guess she is pretty bad ass... Your mom, I mean... Uhuh, I like muffins too..." Anthony slurred almost drunkenly. Ian had to suppress his laughter at his boyfriend's thoughts. It was like peering into his very mind, or even monitoring his dreams.

"Oh... Ian..." he whispered, eyelids fluttering slightly before he relaxed into the bed. Ian hadn't even realized how ridged his posterior had been before. He was too dumbstruck at finding his own name coming out of Anthony's mouth while he was still asleep. Did he really mean that much to him? Was he dreaming about him?

That would make two of you. Trust me, I have the tally marks to prove it.

"I love you too, Ian..." he mumbled quietly before the alarm clock beside his bed on a nightstand cried out shrilly and shrieked out one long, unending sharp tone. Anthony's eyes flashed open almost immediately. Luckily, Ian ducked down seconds before Anthony could process what he was seeing and hid underneath his bed. He heard the mattress creak above him as Anthony jumped out of bed and padded to his closet. A couple of minutes later, he strode out to the room, probably wondering why the hell his door was already open. As soon as Ian heard the bathroom door shut in the hall, he wriggled out from under the bed and bounced up, racing out of the room and into the living room. He sat at the couch, trying to appear casual.

Why does it matter if he saw you in his room?

Ian wondered the same thing.