ain't nothing wrong with a little cliché

“Ah, yes, there ain't a single reason the midway’s a bad idea! Oh, except for the fact that those sheep are damn cute and I wanna get a closer look,” Albert pointed to the barn, “I'm always the third wheel. There is no third wheeling with the sheep!! Also, the lines are too long!! Do you see a line to see the sheep because I do not. Also, it's free to visit the sheep! The midway is so expensive and I'm broooooke”

Albert would have used plenty more excuses, (mostly involving the sheep) if it wasn't for everyone laughing at him.

“I really don't appreciate you guys finding my plight entertaining,” he said, frowning.

“Aw, come on Albie, they ain't that scary,” Race gave him a lopsided grin.

“Race, you jumped out a second story window onto a trampoline to try and make the biggest splash into the pool. I think your idea and my idea of ‘scary’ are wildly different,” Albert pointed out.

“It was fun!” Race protested, as Albert realized that not only had his best friend figured out the real reason he had been avoiding the midway all day, but he had just confirmed it. Dammit.

“You broke your arm, dumbass.” Albert whacked Race on the shoulder.

Nobody was paying attention to them anymore. They were all used to them bickering at this point. Which was just as well, because it meant that they didn't see how Albert immediately blushed when Finch came over complaining about how the game he just played was rigged, because there was no way he had missed that shot.

It was true, too. Finch had the best aim of anyone Albert knew, not that he would say it out loud. The first reason was that Spot Conlon would probably soak him. He was also a good shot, and took a lot of pride in it.

The second reason was that he didn't want to make it any more obvious that he has a huge crush on Finch.

“Finch, Albert won't go on the rides with us!” Race said accusingly.

Finch let out a very dramatic, scandalized gasp.

“You mean you won't even go on the Ferris wheel with me?”

“I- I mean-”

“Hey, you've been on a Ferris wheel before! Don't tell me you were sc-HEY!” Race was interrupted by Albert hitting him again.

“Well c'mon then!” Finch grinned at Albert and started towards the midway. Albert just stood there in stunned silence for a second until Race shoved him after him. Albert shot a look of betrayal at his friend but followed Finch anyways.

When they finally reached the Ferris wheel and joined the line of what seemed like a million other people, Albert started to reach for his wallet, but Finch grabbed his hand to stop him.

“This one's on me, okay?”

“...okay.” Albert hated feeling like a financial burden, but it was so hard to say no to Finch, especially when all he could focus on was Finch's fingers laced through his. Finch was just so… beautiful? No, that was the wrong word. Albert couldn't think of one that was right. No, Finch surpassed all description.

After what felt like years of trying to act like he wasn't staring at Finch, and scooting forward in line every now and again, they were finally getting strapped into the seat of the Ferris wheel. As the car climbed higher and higher, Albert tried to ignore how damn high up they were (albeit unsuccessfully.)

His eyes darted back and forth, when suddenly saw two people making out behind the washrooms, probably having mistakenly assumed that they were hidden from view. Albert snorted. Then his eyes widened. Wait, was that- holy crap, it was-

He poked Finch. “That traitor didn't tell me he had a thing for Spot.

Finch looked where Albert was pointing, and laughed.

“You didn't notice? Race is so damn obvious.” Finch said, clearly amused. “Wait. Does that mean you haven't realised that I like you, either?”

Albert was totally speechless for the second time as they reached the top of the ride, a million thoughts rushing through his head. He had no clue why Finch would ever like him, maybe he was just trying to make a fool out of him or-

“Can I kiss you?” Finch asked gently.

Albert decided it was worth the risk, and nodded.

And oh, it was better than he had ever imagined.

“This is so cliché,” he mumbled when they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together.

“Ain't nothing wrong with that,” Finch smiled, kissing him again.