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When Gary stalks up to the usual lunch table of their friend group, Collie can tell by his expression that it’s not going to be a peaceful meal. He doesn’t say anything, but watches carefully as Gary slams his bookbag on the ground and puts his plate down so hard Collie thinks he might actually break it. He doesn’t say a word as he begins picking at his food, scowling down at it. His hair is unbrushed and falls into his face, which to be fair is not unusual, and the sour curl to his mouth makes it clear he’s not in the mood to be fucked with.
Of course, someone doesn’t get the memo. “You look like shit,” Hank says very helpfully.
“Hank,” Ray hisses, elbowing him in the side, but it’s too late. Gary’s head snaps up from where he’d been moving the food around on his plate without even eating anything, and he bares his teeth like a feral cat.
“Literally get fucked, Olson,” he snaps, before stabbing a piece of ham with his fork and shoving it into his mouth.
“Come on, boys, settle down.” Art, always the mediator, tries to salvage the situation. “What’s bugging you, Gary?”
“None of your business,” Gary says, still chewing on the ham. Collie glares and nudges his foot with his own.
“Don’t talk when you’re chewing,” he scolds, not in the least bit intimidated by the glare Gary sends his way, “it’s nasty.”
“Oh, you don’t like that?” Gary narrows his eyes and shoves another, bigger bite of food in his mouth, smacking loudly. “Does this annoy you? Is it gross?”
“Fucking ew!” Hank exclaims. “Collie, kick him for me. Please.”
“Eat somewhere else if you don’t want to talk,” Pete adds, and Collie winces internally. Now there’s really no hope of Gary calming down. “Don’t come here trying to fuck up everybody else’s day.” Recently, Pete’s become a little more tolerant of Gary’s moodiness, because the latter really has been making more of an effort, but he’s quick to call him out when he crosses the line. Needless to say, it doesn’t always de-escalate things the way Pete probably means it to.
Gary throws his fork down and it clatters to the floor, causing several people at nearby tables to glance over warily. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. Don’t wanna be around you assholes anyway.” He pushes his chair back and it makes an unholy screech against the floor, making everyone wince. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and flips them off as he leaves. He doesn’t even bother taking his plate with him.
Collie can’t help but roll his eyes at Gary’s retreating form. It hasn’t even been five minutes.
“Jesus,” Hank says, shaking his head, “what up his ass today?”
Ray sighs. “I’ll talk to him later. Once he’s cooled off, I mean.”
“Good luck,” Pete says, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
Collie wisely stays silent, because he knows exactly what’s up Gary’s ass—more specifically, what was up his ass last night.
Though they haven’t talked about it, Collie’s pretty sure he and Gary have a silent agreement that their frequent hookups are to stay strictly between them. It’s painfully obvious that Gary is still scared and insecure about being with another guy, and Collie doesn’t feel like pushing it. He’s fine with what they have.
What he’s not fine with is what happens after.
They’ve been fucking for quite a while now, but only recently has he begun to notice a concerning pattern. Gary is as content as a cat who got the canary immediately after sex, but it never lasts even more than an hour. He only ever stays long enough to catch his breath and regain the strength in his legs, sometimes tolerating Collie playing with his hair during that time, sometimes not. Then he’s off with a sneer or a snide remark, and he’ll be sour and snappy the entire next day, sometimes several. Collie doesn’t get it. Gary is very clearly into their hookups—he wouldn’t keep coming back if he wasn’t.
It’s getting fucking annoying, though. Gary won’t talk about it, has even pretended not to know what Collie was talking about on the few occasions he’s tried to bring it up. But now it’s starting to affect the whole group, and Collie would rather avoid a disaster. It’s taken Gary forever to get comfortable with them, to establish a place where he feels safe enough to be himself but also aware of what’s acceptable and what’s not. Collie knows what it would do to him if he lost that.
Something has to change, and soon. It’s just so much harder since it’s between the two of them. Usually Gary goes to Ray when he gets too into his own head in a dangerous way, but Collie knows there’s no way in hell of that happening here. But he doesn’t know what the fuck to do, either. He’d really rather not betray Gary’s trust like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
So after a few agonizing days of mulling it over in his mind, he catches up to Ray after their shared international relations class. “Hey, are you free this afternoon?”
“Yeah, I should be,” Ray answers, glancing at him. It’s not often that Collie is the first one to bring up hanging out individually. “What’s up?”
“Need to talk to you about something,” Collie says, the embarrassment making his voice sound a bit gruff.
“Sounds serious,” Ray says, and it's meant to be teasing, but his smile fades as he takes in Collie’s expression. “Something wrong, man?”
“No,” Collie says quickly.
Ray does not look convinced. “Alright. Does the coffee shop work? I can be there at like, three.”
“That’s fine,” Collie says. “See you.” Then he’s jogging off, a twisting feeling in his gut. This is probably a mistake, but it’s too fucking late now.
✧
“Barkovitch and I are fucking,” Collie blurts out to Ray nearly as soon as they slide into one of the campus cafe’s booths.
Ray blinks. “I said, ‘the barista did a great job with the coffee today’, and you just responded with that.”
“Well, it’s important,” Collie defends. “I need advice, and I’m not asking anyone else.” He doesn’t really want to be asking anyone at all, actually, but Ray is by far the best option. Baker would be beyond flustered, Hank wouldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut about it, and Pete would tease him endlessly.
Ray’s eyes close briefly. “Okay. Alright. You and Gary. Sure. Why not?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Collie says, but there’s barely any bite to it. “I just… fuck, okay. Don’t be weird about this.”
“I’m listening,” Ray says, taking a sip of his coffee and then leaning forward on his elbows.
“So after we fuck,” Collie starts, clearing his throat as he watches Ray’s face flush red, “he gets real weird about it. You know how sometimes he gets all nasty out of nowhere? Like, more than normal? That’s usually ‘cause we hooked up the night before.”
“Jesus,” Ray says. “I’m never going to be able to look at his attitude the same way.”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Collie snaps.
Ray holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, man, chill. Keep going.”
Collie rolls his eyes. “Anyway. It’s weird, because he’s not like that right after. He’s actually…kind of sweet.” He feels his face flush and takes a long sip of his drink to try and drown the embarrassment. “But it’s like, then a switch flips, and he’s all moody and defensive. Frustrates the hell out of me, and of course he won’t talk to me about it.” He shrugs. “And you probably know him best next to me, so I figured I’d ask you.”
“Hm.” Ray is silent for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table in thought. “Do you guys do aftercare?”
Collie startles a bit. “What?”
“Like, you know, when the sex is really intense, sometimes you’ve got to—”
“I know what aftercare is, Garraty, I’m not twelve,” Collie says, a little annoyed. “I just, like—we don’t even really do that stuff, you know? The stuff that needs it.” This is so embarrassing. Describing to someone the details of his sex life with Gary, because he doesn’t want the other to end up killing himself over whatever misunderstanding is going on between them.
And besides, even though they’re rough, always leaving bruises and bite marks all over each other, Collie is pretty sure it’s about the same level as the fights they used to have, and Gary was always fine after those, grinning like a madman and eager for more. He hasn’t tied Gary up yet, or blindfolded him, or anything like that.
(He wants to, though. He really, really wants to. But he has to restrain himself from suggesting it until he’s got this shit figured out.)
Ray shakes his head. “Doesn’t have to be like that. Sometimes people need it anyway. Especially when they’re…” he trails off, as if weighing what he wants to say next. “Look, you know how Barko is. Things that most people can handle set him off. Remember when Pete told him congrats for winning that photography contest and he freaked the fuck out because he thought Pete was making fun of him?”
Collie grimaces. “Yeah.”
“It’s like that. I think… he’s not used to feeling a good thing,” Ray says. “Like he can’t believe he deserves it.”
“But he never acts like he wants to stay,” Collie says. “I told him he could stay, multiple times, and he always tells me to fuck off.”
Ray scrunches up his nose. “Gonna be honest, I feel like you know him well enough that you know he doesn’t mean what he says, like, ninety percent of the time.”
“Ugh.” Ray’s right, but it doesn’t mean Collie has to like it.
Something occurs to him very suddenly. “Hey, why do you know so much about aftercare and shit anyway?”
Ray goes firetruck red. “Um,” he says intelligently, “no reason. I read books.”
Collie raises an eyebrow. “Books about sex and aftercare?”
“Why don’t you just try it?” Ray says a little too loudly. “I think he’ll be more receptive to it than you think, honestly.”
“Uh-huh.” The attempt to redirect is painfully obvious, but Collie knows how to mind his business. “And what if he freaks out and it makes it worse?”
“What if it doesn’t?” Ray challenges.
It’s always impossible to argue with Ray. “Caring about him is like pulling teeth,” Collie grumbles.
“Sure is,” Ray agrees. “But we all keep doing it anyway for some reason.”
“Yeah,” Collie sighs, thinking fondly of big blue eyes and a rare, hesitant, genuine smile. “We do.”
✧
Collie watches the rise and fall of Gary’s chest out of the corner of his eye as they lay next to each other. They’re both still naked, having cleaned themselves up as much as they can without a proper shower; Gary never stays long enough to shower with Collie, anyway. He’s staring up at the ceiling, and Collie knows that the moment he catches his breath and gets feeling back in his legs he’ll be up and out of here. If he’s going to do this, he has to do it now.
He gathers up his courage and says it. “I want to try something.”
“Fuck, man,” Gary says, looking over at him, “I’m gonna need at least ten minutes before we go again.”
“No, not—” Collie huffs. Why the fuck is this so hard to say? “Not sex. I want to…ah, shit. I want to try taking care of you. Like, now that we’re done.”
Gary raises his head from the bed, staring at Collie incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Collie knows that if he lets Gary know that Ray is now aware of their relationship, he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing he needs to happen right now. “Look,” he says, trying to tread lightly, but frustrated at his own inability to explain properly and the likelihood of Gary freaking out on him. “I was looking into some stuff. About aftercare and that kind of thing. I just thought it might be nice to try.”
Gary's nose scrunches up as he makes a face. “Ew.”
Collie snorts. “Ew?”
“That’s so fucking lame,” Gary says. “That’s like, sissy shit.”
“Will you just listen?” Collie rolls his eyes. “We’ll just try it, and if you don’t like it, fine.”
Gary sighs and lets his head flop back down onto the bed. “What would you even do?”
Fuck, he should’ve prepared better for this. It feels like he’s navigating a minefield. “I could massage you, or something.”
“Massage me,” Gary repeats incredulously. Then he laughs, sharp and mean. “That’s the queerest thing you’ve ever fucking said to me.”
Gary has no idea how lucky he is that Collie likes him so much. “Fuck’s sake, I will literally give you twenty dollars if you let me do this and you don’t like it. Okay?” It’s ridiculous to have to bribe someone to get a massage, of all things, but he’s a little bit desperate.
Gary makes a sour face, but listens anyway and rolls over to lay on his belly, resting his head on a pillow. “This is so fucking gay,” he mutters into the pillow.
Collie rolls his eyes, barely restraining himself from saying, my dick was in your ass less than ten minutes ago. “Whatever,” he replies instead, “would it kill you to relax for once?”
…Actually, now that he thinks about it, has he ever seen Barkovitch relaxed? He’s all nervous energy, twitchy and instantly hostile at the slightest sign of rejection. He moves like a rabid gazelle, always bounding around and getting in everyone’s way.
“Get fucked,” Gary mumbles, but stays where he is. Collie scoffs and reaches over to grab the massage oil that he’d borrowed from Ray—and he really doesn’t want to think about why Ray had that on hand—from his bedside drawer before adjusting so that he’s sitting comfortably.
He can see how tense Gary is, can hear him muttering into the pillow about how this is stupid. But as soon as Collie begins to rub the oil onto his lower back, Gary lets out a loud groan of relief before cutting himself off abruptly, as if he hadn’t meant to let that escape. Collie doesn’t bother suppressing the smug smirk that crosses his face. He’s not exactly a professional masseuse, but he goes to the gym often and has had to work out the tension of his own sore muscles plenty of times.
He must be doing something right, at least, because Gary doesn’t protest again. He stays quiet, letting out soft sighs and groans as Collie works his way up his back. Collie has to dig in pretty hard around his shoulders, working on knots that must have been there for ages. It makes sense, he supposes; sometimes it seems like Gary runs on nothing but spite and anxiety. When he starts in on Gary’s thighs, a full-body shiver wracks the body underneath him. Collie shushes him, but goes more gently.
It’s nice to see him like this. Pliant, sweet, letting Collie have the control he usually only lets him have during sex. It’s different this way. He really hopes this works.
By the time he’s done, Gary has gone almost completely limp, face pressed completely into the pillow. Collie’s kind of concerned he might fall asleep like that, and he doesn’t need his…well, fuckbuddy doesn’t really sound right anymore. He doesn’t know what they’ll be after this. Whatever. He doesn’t need Gary asphyxiating right now.
“Come on,” he says, rubbing at Gary’s shoulderblade. “Turn over.”
“Mm-mm,” Gary mumbles, “nope.”
“You’re going to suffocate if you stay like that. Turn over.”
“No,” Gary says stubbornly, shoving his face further into the pillow. But when Collie grabs his shoulders and turns him over himself, he doesn’t fight it. He understands Gary’s reluctance immediately; tears are slipping down his pretty face, eyes shining wetly, his cheeks flushed and his lip wobbly.
Collie cups his face in his hands instinctively, swiping his thumbs under Gary’s eyes to wipe away the tears. “You okay?”
“Shut up,” Gary sniffles, trying to turn his head away. “Just shut up.”
“Talk to me, baby.” The endearment slips out before Collie can stop it.
Gary flinches like he’s been struck. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps weakly. “Don’t—you don’t even—” He slaps the side of his head fiercely, and Collie reaches out quickly to grab his wrist.
“Stop that,” he says firmly. “What don’t I do?”
“You don’t want me,” Gary says. “Not really.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Collie is hopelessly confused. “We literally just had sex.”
“No!” Gary uses his free hand to hit the bed with a clenched fist. “I mean I don’t want you to pretend to want me in that way. Like you wanna be sweet to me. Like you care.”
“Would I do any of this if I didn’t care?” Collie can’t help the exasperation that seeps into his tone.
“Well, I don’t want you to fucking care,” Gary snaps.
This guy is going to permanently raise Collie’s blood pressure, he swears. “Why the hell not?”
“Because then when you get sick of me, it won’t matter,” Gary hisses. “Because I won’t care either. I won’t care at all.”
Collie’s heart drops to the bottom of his stomach.
“I…” he starts, and then blanks. Because what the hell can he possibly say to that? Is that what Gary thinks about, every time he slips out of Collie’s dorm? Counting down the days until Collie tires of him? He imagines Gary back in his room, still aching, still with fresh imprints of teeth on his shoulder and neck and thighs. And alone.
Fuck, why has he been naive enough to let Gary leave all this time without more protest? Collie knows how he gets, knows that the slightest sense of abandonment is enough to have him spiraling. The entire group knows how dangerous it is to let him isolate.
He can’t say he’s sorry; Gary always lashes out when someone tries to apologize to him. Something in his brain just refuses to accept it. He can’t try to explain himself, either; he just can’t find the words. So he does the only thing he can think of, and wraps his arms around Gary, pulling him upright so they’re both sitting, holding him tight to his chest. Gary curses, trying to push him away, but Collie’s grip is steadfast.
“Get off me,” Gary says furiously, voice cracking. “Get the fuck off, you—” he breaks midsentence, words dissolving into a broken sob. Despite what he says, his arms come up to wrap around Collie, fingers digging into his back like he’s holding on for dear life. “You can’t care about me,” he says again, even as he buries his face in Collie’s shoulder.
“Too bad,” Collie murmurs into his hair. “You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t care about. You’re stuck with me, asshole.”
“Fuck,” Gary says, muffled against Collie’s skin. “I can’t, I can’t, I—” his breathing quickens, too fast, and Collie holds him tighter.
“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. Just breathe.”
Gary’s nails are probably breaking skin from how tightly he’s gripping on, but Collie couldn’t care less. He’s not trying to leave, and that’s what matters. Fuck, Collie hadn’t realized how much he’s been wanting Gary to stay until this very moment.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but eventually Gary pulls away, and Collie lets him. Gary wipes at his eyes and sighs. “Goddamnit. I didn’t… I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d want me to stick around.”
“You’ve got to stop assuming shit,” Collie says, flicking his forehead. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, you know that?”
Gary groans and collapses onto his back. “M’not pretty.”
Collie lays back down beside him, and when he wraps his arms around Gary again to gather him close, he goes willingly. They lie chest to chest, and Collie threads his fingers through Gary’s hair. “I think you are,” he says firmly.
Gary mumbles something incoherent, and Collie grins.
They both keep silent for a while after that, holding each other in a way they never have before. It’s not completely comfortable; they’re both sweaty and the massage oil is going to make the sheets a bitch to wash later, but Collie can’t be bothered to think about that right now. Gary is here, letting Collie give him something he must’ve convinced himself he’d never have.
Collie is nearly asleep when Gary’s voice breaks raspily through the quiet.
“...Can I still have the twenty bucks, though?”
“Shut up.”