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Alex, for a lack of better phrasing, loved morning memes.
It was his favorite part of the day, as morning memes meant afternoon memes meant fan interaction and given his current predicament, he could use some time of interaction that was normal, because Matt was acting fucking abnormal.
He hadn’t noticed it at first, but leaning back in his chair, scrolling through memes, he finally paid attention as Matt was pacing their shared studio space, a whirlwind of nervous energy he hadn’t picked up on. They were supposed to be brainstorming new tracks, but Matt was radiating a peculiar kind of distraction today.
“You good, G?” Alex finally asked, tilting his head and watching his friend.
Matt stopped pacing abruptly, like he’d been caught mid-crime. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just…thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” Alex pressed, eyebrow raised. He’d known Matt practically since they were awkward teenagers spitting rhymes in basements, he could usually read him like a cheap paperback. Today, Matt was a closed book written in hieroglyphics, which was honestly unsettling.
“Just…new beats, man. Vibes.” Matt gestured vaguely, avoiding eye contact.
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Vibes, huh?” He glanced down at himself. He was wearing one of Matt’s older hoodies, a faded black thing with a hole near the cuff that Alex had always liked. He’d grabbed it this morning absentmindedly, comfort over style.
Suddenly, a tiny, almost imperceptible shift in Matt’s posture registered. His shoulders seemed a little less tense, his gaze lingering just a beat too long on Alex, blinking swiftly as if he was trying to clear his head.
“Yeah, vibes,” Matt mumbled, finally meeting Alex’s eyes, but his flickered quickly downwards, tracing the stitch line of the hoodie across Alex’s shoulders and chest. “That hoodie… looks good on you.”
Alex blinked. “This old thing? Yeah, it’s comfy.” He paused, a little spark of mischief igniting in his brain. “Yours, right?”
Matt’s cheeks flushed a faint pink. “Uh, yeah. Yours now, I guess. You always…you always pull off the oversized look.” He rambled slightly, still not quite looking directly at Alex’s face.
That’s when the weirdness clicked. It wasn't just the hoodie. Alex remembered other times. The way Matt had complimented him a little too enthusiastically when he borrowed Matt’s snapback on a off day from one of their tours, or how his eyes had lingered when Alex had jokingly donned Matt’s ridiculously patterned silk robe for a photoshoot blooper, bragging that he looked like some DJ from New York or Texas or some shit.
A slow, sly grin spread across Alex's face as Matt stared curiously at him, unknowingly witnessing Alex’s brain putting together dots like a puzzle. He leaned forward, feigning innocent curiosity. “You like when I wear your stuff, G?”
Matt stammered, his flush deepening. “It’s…it’s just…you have a…a style, man. You just…make anything look cool.” He was tripping over his words, and Alex was practically vibrating with amusement. He was so transparent.
“Anything?” Alex purred, pushing the boundaries.
“Yeah, I mean…sure,” Matt said, his voice cracking slightly. He turned away, busying himself with the mixing board, fiddling with knobs that didn't need fiddling, Alex’s gaze on his back as he mulled over things, memes forgotten.
He knew Matt. At least, he knew him well enough that Matt was never going to say it. He was too awkward, too… Matt., but damn if Alex wasn’t fluent in unspoken desires, he’d had a few of his own blow up in his face to chalk up to that misfortune, but in hindsight, he was nothing if not opportunistic and of course, opportunity presented itself.
The next day, Alex ‘accidentally’ showed up in Matt’s kitchen wearing Matt’s favorite vintage band tee, the one Matt guarded like a holy relic. Matt’s reaction was instant and hilarious. He stopped mid-sentence as he was greeting him good morning, his jaw slack, eyes glued to the t-shirt stretched across Alex’s torso.
“Dude,” Matt breathed, sounding almost pained. “That’s…that’s my…my Zeppelin tee.”
Alex feigned surprise. “Oh, shit, is it? My bad, man. Just grabbed the first thing I saw from your wash pile as all my stuff is still drying.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but inside he was savouring the look in Matt’s eyes as he just stared at him before deliberately turning away.
That was how the morning continued as well, even as they curled up in the studio so they could take advantage of Alex’s time there. Matt didn’t say anything about Alex taking it off, didn’t even really complain. He just…stared when he thought Alex wasn’t looking, a strange mix of longing and something else, something darker, flickering in his eyes.
That was how the “game” as Alex had taken to calling it, began.
Over the next few months, when visiting LA and staying at Matt’s ridiculously nice house in the hills, Alex ‘borrowed’ Matt’s clothes with increasing frequency and audacity. A neon pink bucket hat, a pair of ridiculously baggy plaid pants as Matt was a foot taller than him, his robe to casually wear in the house, even a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt that Matt swore he only wore ironically.
Each time, Matt’s reaction was a delicious cocktail of fluster and…intensity. He’d stammer compliments, avoid eye contact, sometimes even get weirdly quiet and withdrawn, but most telling of all, he never, ever, asked Alex to stop.
Meanwhile, Alex was having the time of his life. It was like a silent, ridiculous conversation, him screaming “Hey, Matt, guess what I’m wearing today? Whatcha gonna do about it?” with Matt’s response was always the same, waiting patiently, hoping for some kind of gasket to blow in Matt’s brain.
Sure, the “game” was intense enough that it was noticeable, but they didn’t stop their normal shtick by any means. They still did what they do best - made music, toured, pranked each other and stayed in each other's general space, but the tension in the air was starting to become thick enough to cut with a knife. It was only a matter of time before one of them lost the plot and cracked.
That point came swiftly, one evening in early September where they were in Matt’s in house studio for once, working on a new beat. Alex, having already snuck around the house while Matt was out getting food, was draped in Matt’s oversized, faux-fur lined denim jacket that used to be all the way back in Minnesota – a particularly prized possession that Matt rarely let out of his sight that produced an effect he’s never seen up until that point.
It was like Alex had stabbed him, the man’s legs had shook when he’d walked in with their Thai order seeing Alex in it, putting the food down gingerly before he walked back out and been gone for a long time before he finally came back in the room, eating being unusually quiet, his usual playful banter replaced with a simmering silence. He also kept running a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched and eyes unable to look at the other, hyper focused on the equipment.
This was going better than he expected.
Much like that first point of contact with the issue months before, he leaned back in his chair, deliberately running a hand over his neck where the fuzzy collar of the jacket met his collarbones, catching Matt’s eye as the sleeves slipped down his arms. “This jacket’s comfy as, man,” he said, stretching languidly. “You always have the best stuff.”
This time, something snapped. Matt’s eyes darkened, and the simmering silence finally boiled over. He stood up abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor, and stalked towards Alex, like a predator after its prey as he hovered over the top of him, hands flat against Alex’s seat.
“Alex,” Matt said, his voice low and rough, not playful this time, but something else entirely and making Alex’s heart skip a beat as he looked up at him, suddenly feeling very small and very…exposed under Matt’s intense gaze.
“You know what you’re doing, right?” Matt demanded, his voice tight.
Alex wanted to grin, the urge itching as his skin as he fought to stay neutral. He’d been pushing, yes, but he hadn’t expected this. He swallowed, a flicker of genuine nervousness mixing with his excitement while he played dumb, widening his eyes and blinking his lashes.
“Don’t know what you mean, G.”
At that, Matt’s hands shot out, grabbing the lapels of his own jacket that Alex was wearing, pulling Alex forward, out of the chair and flush against himself, the suddenness of it stealing Alex’s breath and making a bubble of warmth appear in his stomach that spread all the way to between his legs to hover there as Matt’s eyes bored into him.
“This,” Matt growled, his voice dangerously close to Alex’s ear. “Fuck me Alex, you’re driving me insane.”
Insane. He had been driving Matt insane. Every nerve in his body sang, the heat radiating off Matt almost similar to his own, desire burning in his eyes.
Alex didn’t want to play games anymore. He wanted…this.
“Oh, am I?” Alex breathed, his voice husky, matching Matt’s intensity. It only made Matt’s grip tighten, pulling Alex even closer. “Maybe I like driving you crazy, ever think that?”
There was a pause, heavy, suffocating, but before Alex could fully register what was happening, Matt surged forward, pinning Alex against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs.
When he managed to flicker back in, one of Matt’s hands braced on the wall beside his head, the other still gripping the jacket. the blonde’s face inches away, his blue eyes drowning Alex in a storm.
He's only got seconds to adjust to his new position before Matt’s mouth was on his neck. Not a kiss, not gentle, but a raw, hungry pressure. A gasp escaped Alex’s lips as Matt’s teeth scraped lightly against his skin, then the unmistakable suction, the stinging bite. A hickey, no, multiple hickeys.
Matt was actually giving him hickeys, the realisation making Alex’s head loll back against the wall to open his neck up more, his senses reeling. The sudden, aggressive intimacy was shocking, exhilarating. He felt a thrill course through him, a delicious mix of fear and pure, unadulterated desire.
Seemed Matt could sense that, as he moved lower, leaving a trail of heated, wet kisses down his throat, each one punctuated with a sharp nip. Alex’s hands clenched into fists, gripping Matt’s shirt, trying to anchor himself. He could feel the frantic rhythm of Matt’s heart against his own, the raggedness of his breath.
“Matt,” Alex managed to gasp, his voice shaky. “Matt-“
Matt pulled back slightly, his face flushed, eyes glazed over as he stared down at Alex, his chest heaving, his gaze dropped to Alex’s lips. It was like a silent question, a plea, an acknowledgement of everything that had been unspoken between them for so long.
Alex didn’t hesitate. He reached up, pulling Matt down and finally, finally, kissed him.
It was messy, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. It wasn’t completely romantic, but it was raw and wanted and Alex thought he might die if it didn’t happen soon and the reward for waiting was finally paying itself out.
Alex tangled his fingers in Matt’s hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, losing himself in the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer, overwhelming relief of not having to notice his best friend eyefucking him anymore as they could (hopefully) do it for real.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, the studio air felt charged, electric. Matt was still close, his forehead resting against Alex's. His breath ghosted over Alex's lips. “Shit,” he breathed, a raw sound that was half-laugh, half-exasperated sigh.
Alex grinned, a wide, genuine grin that stretched from ear to ear. He reached up and traced the faint marks blooming on his own throat, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest that seemed to placate Matt as he covered Alex’s hand and squeezed it.
“Yeah,” Alex agreed, his voice still rough as he looked lewdly up at the latter, smirking. “Shit.”
The marks were going to be noticeable, that was given, but Alex couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of wearing them like a badge of honor and if tomorrow he does, under the weight Matt’s stare in one of Matt’s many unbuttoned jerseys just slung over his shoulders as he parades around in a tank top, Alex was far from disturbed.
It just means Matt’s not keeping his hands off him and he’s totally fine with that.