Bill hated Saturday's like today. Always had and it seemed like he always would. Growing up it was because he always spent his Saturday's stuck in his room doing leftover homework from a seemingly very long week of school and constantly bickering with his kid brother, Georgie—who he adored. Now the dreadful feeling came from his job and leaving his bed where he lay next to the love of his life.
Being that Bill was a published author, he mostly worked from home but that day he was forced to head into the city for a meeting with his publicist. It was tedious, to say the least, and not so dreadful but he still wished he could stay home.
He stared lifelessly at the ceiling, studying the faint patterns engraved in it. The lines swirled and looped, continuing like this from wall to wall as Bill followed them with his eyes and as he turned his head to the left, his gaze landed on the sleeping figure next to him. Bill cracked a smile and admired him and the way his face scrunched up when the wind blew from the open window and his messy, curly blonde hair. His lips were in a pouty state that Bill always found to be one of the cutest things about him.
It was weird, Bill thought, that he had known Stanley for fifteen years and yet it felt like no time had gone by at all. Surely it had, Bill knew that, but ever since they had started dating almost ten years ago, the world seemed to be standing still.
"Why're you staring at me?" Stan's voice brought Bill back to reality and he now had one eye cracked open and glaring at Bill. The sunlight probably didn't help either. He smiled nevertheless and inched further down into the comfort of their mattress.
"J-just admiring, is that a crime?" He smirked when Stan moved closer, hooking his leg behind Bill's to bring their bodies closer, nuzzling his nose in the fabric of Bill's shirt and wrapping an arm around his torso.
"Yes, it's disturbing my sleep." Bill chuckled, his chest vibrating against the side of Stan's face and he shuddered, pulling the blanket up higher. Bill wished for nothing more than to stay like that but he knew he had to get up otherwise he would be late and would an earful of reprimanding from his publicist.
"Well, y-you're in luck. I'm leaving for my meeting in ten minutes. I have t-to go get ready." Bill slipped out from Stan's grasp and walked toward the closet and retrieved a hanger which had a dress shirt, dress pants, and a tie and walked to the joined bathroom to change his clothes.
"Your publicist is the worst." Stan groaned, his voice sounding muffled. Bill cracked the door open and pulled his pants up around his legs seeing Stan in their bed sprawled out over both sides with his face in his pillow.
"You don't mean that." Bill said while buttoning his shirt up to the collar and tucking the bottom it into the waistband of his pants and leaving the collar sticking up against the sides of his face. He grabbed the long strip of fabric off of the counter too and began tying it in the reflection of the mirror. Noticing the he was struggling to get it right, Stan rolled out of bed himself and walked toward the bathroom. Bill opened his mouth to call for Stan for help, closing it when he turned and he was already there, smiling.
He reached out and gently grabbed the fabric of the tie and went to work. When he was finished he flattened it out against Bill's torso and smirked, turning and walking back toward where he laid two minutes ago. Bill turned back toward the mirror and grabbed his toothbrush to brush his teeth, then fixed his hair, then walked back to the closet for the jacket that matched his pants and reached down to grab his shoes next.
"Alright, I'll see you around six or so." Bill said and Stan pouted where he sat knowing he had to go to work shortly. He heard Bill travel down the stairs quickly and then the front door of their shared home closing quickly before flopping back onto the bed. He turned his head and looked down, eyes falling onto the surface of the tabletop next to Bill's side of the bed. There lay, of course, his car keys. Stan shot up and retrieved them before he was quickly descending the stairs and Bill stood in the doorway.
"Forget something?" Stan asked playfully, hand closing around the keys. Bill walked back over toward him, one hand at the left side of his face and the other tangling itself in the messy coils of Stan's blonde hair. Bill's lips are on his a second later, before Stan could react to the actions. The latter's eyes fluttered shut and pressed back against Bill, one of his hands coming up to snake around his neck and keep him there.
"I meant these," Stan said after they parted, forehead resting against Bill's with his eyes still closed and breathing heavily. He opened his hand and revealed Bill's car keys. Bill pulled back to look at what Stan was showing him and whispered 'oh'. Stan's eyes flickered before they opened once again, gaze flitting between Bill's lips and his eyes as he stared back at Stan who licked his lips and chewed on his lower. "But thanks." He said and Bill's cheeks flushed pink before he pecked Stan's lips one last time in thanks and headed back out onto their wooden front porch.
YOU ARE READING
8TEEN | IT ONE SHOTS
Fanfiction(Some language may be considered "strong" but it's just curse words.) A collection of fics I've written for stenbrough with a little bit of reddie mixed in.
