Sykeskarth: a Guide For Dummies

Catching Up To The Morning*

A/N: Written by asphyxiatide on Live Journal :) ending is edited because I really wasn't a fan of where it was going... None of that on my Christian Minecraft Server. Kinda smutty ig. This is the longest I've posted whoops.

"Holy shit, it's not fucking raining," Oliver breathes, fascinated as he opens their new, slightly squeaky sliding glass door. Alex comes up behind him, rests his chin on his shoulder.

"It's pretty when you can see out to the water," he adds wistfully, slipping his arms around Oliver's exceptionally skinny waist.

They bought this flat specifically for its view, really. When the Washington cloud cover clears out, they can see straight across the water to Canada. They're waiting on Alex's passport to clear so they can take the ferry across to Victoria.

"We should go down after dinner," Oliver suggests, an abrupt gust of wind disheveling both boys' hair, along with a couple of the things on the table that's set up on their deck.

"Don't we always?" Alex jokes, pressing a kiss below Oliver's ear.

"Fair point," Oliver figures, "but I mean down to the harbor."

"I know."

"Oh."

"Is the food done?"

"I'm just waiting for the bread to finish warming up in the oven."

"Oh."

It's quiet, then, except for the noise that Port Angeles, Washington is making beneath them.

"I think," Alex declares-

"You do?" Oliver interrupts.

"That's getting old, y'know."

"Yeah."

"Anyway," Alex sighs. "I think that one of my favorite simple things in the world is being able to stand here and wrap my arms around you and say, 'world, this is my husband, Oliver Scott Sykes'."

"Really?" Oliver asks. "One of my favorites is your dick in my ass."

"I hate you sometimes," Alex says flatly. "I really hate you sometimes."

"I'm kidding," Oliver giggles.

"No, you're not."

"I'm not."

"You're such a fucking instigator."

"Also, don't call me Oliver."

"Oh my god," Alex laughs, "we fuck like newlyweds, and yet we somehow bicker like we've been married fifty years."

"We're obviously perfect for each other in every way," Oliver declares.

"I agree with you," Alex sighs. "For once."

"You agreed with me when I asked you if you liked that last night."

"If you make a single sex joke while my new friends are over I'm going to make you pay for it later. I fucking swear it."

"I'll make a point to make constant dick jokes then," Oliver coos with a wink that Alex doesn't actually see. Doorbell.

"Fuck!" Alex hisses. He scrambles over to the door, catches his breath. Oliver just kind of wanders over, in typical Oliver manner, and grabs his hand. Alex smiles, opens the door.

"Hey," a voice on the other side says. It takes Oliver a second to register what these people look like- the first guy is ridiculously tall and exceptionally skinny, with a sort of obnoxiously arrogant grin. The other is shorter, with a mess of red hair and moccassins and orange wayfarers. Oliver wonders why he's wearing wayfarers in PA, but then figures this 75 degree weather must be a heat wave up here. He's holding a girl's hand- she's tiny, both short and thin, and she's got this cute, choppy haircut that's mostly dark but with flashes of blonde. Alex wrenches his hand from Oliver's grasp and throws a hug around the girl.

"Hey guys!" he squeals. He smiles enormously, puts a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "This is my husband, Oli. Oli, this is John, Caleb, and Cassadee." Oliver nods, smiles, and shakes each of their hands. They're very hip-looking and college-y.

"You were right when you said he had a lot of tattoos," the one called John laughs, grinning.

"Yeah," Alex replies, "I love them."

"When I dropped out of college I went out and got a shit-ton of them," Oliver remarks. Caleb's eyebrows peek out from above his glasses.

"You never said he was English," Caleb coos, throwing on this arrogant smile.

"Whatever." Alex rolls his eyes. "Get in here, we're pissing off the neighbors."

Alex ushers them in, takes their coats since everyone's got a ton of coats in Washington. Caleb finally takes his glasses off and Oliver immediately notices how bright his hazel eyes are.

"Babe," Oliver breathes. Alex whips his head around, tilts his eyebrows out in concern.

"What, Oli doll?"

"Bread. Oven."

"Fuck!" Alex shouts. Cassadee smiles exactly when Oliver does. John looks lost; Caleb's too busy staring at some of Oliver's art that's hung on the wall. "God damn it! You'd think I'd remember these things by now. I always fuck this shit up."

"I'm sure the soup will be delicious," Oliver figures. He shrugs.

"I love soup," Cassadee adds. Her voice is sugary sweet and grates on Oliver's eardrums a bit.

"Fagskarth made soup?" John asks.

"I like this piece," Caleb adds. He indicates a watercolor painting. The background is plain white, with seven horizontal, parallel red lines kind of bleeding out into the paper. It's quiet. "Who is this?"

"Me," Oliver breathes.

"Holy shit," Caleb exclaims, twisting around and pointing an accusing finger at him "I totally remember you! I saw you on campus a bunch like two years ago. You actually had, like, a normal amount of tattoos back then."

"Yeah," Oliver grins, "I did fine arts for a semester but the teacher was a wacko and I'm shit at sculpture." He crosses his arms.

"You should've stuck with it." Caleb nods. "This is good. Really good."

"Thanks," Oliver sighs. Alex flits with his bracelets absentmindedly, waiting for the now-burnt bread to stop smoking up the kitchen.

"I'm in photography," Caleb adds. "Cass does fashion design and John does-"

"Partying," John interrupts. Everyone kind of laughs, except for Alex, who is too preoccupied by his bread debacle.

"I managed to fuck up the bread," Alex grumbles, "but if you guys want some soup it's on."

"Is it vegitarian?" Cassadee asks.

"'Course, Oli's a vegitarian," Alex mumbles. Oliver takes the couple steps over to him, surprises him with an enormous hug.

"Don't be a frownypuss," Oliver giggles. Alex shakes his head, smiles.

"Fine, if you're going to be all cute," Alex sighs, shrugging him off. Oliver smacks his ass, eliciting a squawk.

"That's what I thought," Oliver remarks, pecking his cheek. "C'mon, guys. Alex makes tasty soup. I swear he didn't lace it with arsenic or anything."

Cassadee laughs, grabs Caleb's hand and pulls him into the kitchen. John saunters over too, and they all get their soup and sit around the table.

"It's pretty out today," John murmurs, leaning around Caleb to look out the sliding glass door. Oliver nods, swallows.

"Yeah, I think Alex and I are gonna go down later." Alex nearly shoots soup out of his nose. "Down to the water, I mean."

"I should hope," Caleb remarks.

"Maybe we should go down tonight too." Cassadee winks at her boyfriend.

"I'm eating," John says loudly.

"Sorry," Caleb murmurs.

"Regardless," Alex adds, "this heat wave is totally crazy."

"I've been wearing t-shirts and scarves all week," John says.

"I always wear t-shirts and scarves," Caleb laughs. And thus the conversation lulls along, for nearly two hours, at which point the five of them have exhausted nearly every topic, from scene hair, to what color to paint John's house in order to "make hot chicks congregate in his bed", to Barrack Obama.

John leaves first, he has a "prior engagement". Caleb and Cassadee stick around for another half an hour or so, until eventually her incessant suggestive comments convince Caleb to take her home.

The room feels deathly silent. Alex teeters on the back of the couch, tilts back so that he crashes onto the cushion, staring up at the ceiling, and his legs are hanging over.

"I should fuck you like this one day," Oliver observes, situating himself between Alex's ankles.

"That'd be hard," Alex whines. "Why can't you just fuck me on the balcony?"

Oliver blinks.

"That," Oliver says flatly, "is a very good idea, you know."

"I just got myself into a predicament."

"You did. Sorry dear."

"It's okay, I guess."

Oliver reaches his hand down. Alex intertwines their fingers and Oliver pulls him back upright again. Alex scoots his bottom up over the top of the couch, Oliver's hips tight between his thighs. Alex smirks, wraps his legs around Oliver's waist.

"I think I'm ready," Alex whispers.

"Ready for what, hun?" Oliver asks, letting his hands rest on either side of Alex's ribcage. Alex wraps his arms around Oliver's neck, links his fingers together, tilts his head.

"To go down to the water," Alex giggles softly, resting his forehead on Oliver's.

"Aww," Oliver sighs. "I thought you were going to say you were ready for me to impale you on my big fat cock."

"I'm always ready for that," Alex laughs, pecking a kiss on Oliver's lips. "Always, babe."

Oliver kisses Alex again, carefully at first, just barely parting his lips- just enough for Alex to softly tug Oliver's bottom lip into his mouth.

"Should we fuck or go down to the water first?" Oliver asks, innocently enough.

"Hmm." Alex pretends to think, foreheads still attached through their messes of hair. "I think we should go down to the water."

"Well I think otherwise."

So then they went down to the water, because Alex said so.

The walk's not terribly long. They pass the donut shop Oliver works at, Cock-a-Doodle Doughnuts, on the way there. Alex always picked on him for working at a place with the word "cock" in the name, but Oliver though it appropriate that half of the only married gay couple in Port Angeles should work there. Washington hasn't legalized gay marriage yet, but they got married in Iowa. Alex also thought it was weird that Iowa is now known for "corn and queers", as he called it. But Washington recognizes it as a valid marriage. They kept their surnames, though. Neither were willing to take their options: Alexander William Sykes or Oliver Scott Gaskarth.

It's chilly at the harbor- an excuse to cuddle. The fog's rolling in towards Puget Sound, filling in the spaces between ships.

"I love being here," Oliver sighs.

"I love being where you are," Alex declares.

Oliver leans over onto Alex's shoulder. Their bench. They claimed it when the scratched "AG + OS" into a heart underneath it. Nobody's really seen it - it's nearly impossible if you don't get on the ground - but they know it's theirs.

Alex tilts his head down to press his lips to Oliver's nose. He giggles, lifts his lips to Alex's.

Which is when his phone rings.

Oliver draws the kiss out as long as he can, fishing his iPhone out of his pocket and only breaking it off when he sees who it is.

"Hey!" Oliver exclaims. Alex raises an eyebrow; Oliver tilts the phone out so he can see the caller ID. It's Tom, Oliver's treasured little brother. "Yeah, where are you? You what? You're shitting me. Holy shit, yeah, we were just hanging out. We'll get there. Yeah. I'd love to fly into Seattle at night. Tell me when you get here and we'll be at the airport stat. You can sleep on our futon. No, you won't be in our way. Physically at least. What would give you that idea? We're newlyweds, Thomas. Sorry. Tell you what, while you're flying in from Seattle Alex and I are gonna get one last round in." Oliver winks; Alex giggles. "Hey, who asked me to give him the sex talk five years ago? Nope, I will never let you forget that. No, sorry. Okay fine, get on that plane! Love you. Bye brother."

Alex stares. Oliver smiles as he hangs up.

"What?"

"Tom's flying in from San Francisco," Oliver gushes, grinning like an idiot. Alex gasps.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims. "I haven't seen him in like three years."

"I know. I miss him," Oliver pouts. Alex kisses his forehead.

"You're precious." Alex whispers. "Now, about that 'one last round'..."

"I thought you'd pick up on that," Oliver laughs. "Now c'mon, lets get home so we can get on with that before Tom lands."

"He's flying into PA?"

"Yeah, he was about to board at SeaTac. Seriously, he's gonna be here for two weeks-"

"Shit!" Alex hisses, nearly flying off the bench. "Home. Now."

"Fine, sheesh," Oliver sighs, reluctantly getting up. Alex grabs his hand. "Flights from Seattle to PA take like half an hour."

"Okay, so maybe we need all of that half an hour," Alex declares, as if it's totally obvious. Oliver shrugs, holds his hand out and Alex helps him up. They head back towards their condo, walking faster than before, but when they get back they move even faster towards their couch.

First they're just kissing, then they're just two naked forms intertwining and giggling, then they roll over onto the floor and then it's Alex bouncing deliciously in Oliver's lap, each of them moaning the others name and panting and gasping and making whatever noises that they normally do while they still can. Then it's Oliver's iPhone ringing and for whatever reason he answers it even though he's still fucking Alex. Alex doesn't bother to stop, even as Oliver holds the phone to his ear.

"We're not done yet," is all he says at first, and when Alex moans and pants out "fuck, touch me," Oliver laughs. "Sorry, but I didn't want to not pick up," he manages, getting close himself, hand fiercely jacking Alex off. "Ngh, shit. God, Alex," he sighs. "Tom, we'll be there soon. I mean really soon. Oh, Alex- sorry, really, we'll get there. Honest. Bye Tom."

As soon as he hangs up the phone, it takes less than a few seconds for them to be coming and then collapsing into a pile of post-orgasmic mush.

"Holy shit that was good," Alex pants.

"I know," Oliver laughs. "I love you."

"I love you too," he exhales deeply, cuddling into Oli. 

"We should get to the airport."

"To the car!" Oliver exclaims, pointing his index finger triumphantly at the ceiling.

"We need clothes."

"Oh. Right."