7: Walking In.

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HÅKON

I'm in love with him. I'm so fucking stupidly in love with him. I was stupidly in love with him since the night we ate grilled cheese together by the lake at the very fucking beginning of the season and I'm still stupidly in love with him.

He's just, god, there's something about the hyperactivity and something about the way he talks and something about how easily his hands settle on my body despite not ever doing this before. There's something about his eyes and something about what's grown out in the last three months to what I can best describe as a mullet but I know it's nowhere close, way more similar to the modern cut instead of the Alabama 1970s cut that makes everyone immediately assume you're sexually attracted to family members.

Rocket's is so far different from that. It's too long, I know that my mom's skin is going to crawl when she sees him but I just love him more for that. It's long and curls but not in ringlets, more like tighter waves, I'm not sure, I have straight hair, curls are a foreign concept to me. It's dark and curly and long enough in the back to touch his collar and slip out the bottom of his helmet and he looks like if he picked up an electric guitar nobody would bat a fucking eye. It's probably five inches in most spots, longer if he pulls on it. All I know in my stupid fucking concussed-too-many-times very gay brain is that it curls perfect around his cheekbones and down by his jaw. And I definitely know that sinking my hand into it, wrapping my fingers up in his thick dark hair, is the best fucking thing.

I'm gonna do it as much as I possibly can before he cuts it. Just the same as he's convinced me repeatedly to keep the playoff beard because he likes it.

"When do you think they're going to get here?" Milo sticks his head in the guest room door, where I'm currently still trying to finish that book I talked about with him way earlier in the season. He wanders over when I don't respond because I'm halfway through a sentence and don't want to lose my train of thought.

I reach up and grab his hands, pulling him down. He stumbles, but throws a leg over my hips and decides that sinking into my lap across my chest is the best option.

"We told them noon so we could be in Oslo by three." I look up at him. "Three hour drive, plus/minus traffic."

"That's not too bad, plus/minus traffic and then the Rocket-tax, we could easily be there by two fifteen-" I push my finger against his lips.

"You're not driving."

He looks sad about this.

"No offense."

Rocket's eyes roll and he flips his head away from me. "None taken."

"Miloš."

"Håkon." he grumps.

"Miloš."

"Håkon."

I weave my fingers into his intoxicating hair. "M'sorry but I don't need my sister and her friends put up to the mortal peril that is your driving."

He tuts his tongue. "I think it's a good experience."

"You're so lucky at this point that I still let you drive places." I smile at him. "Every day I get closer to never letting you drive anywhere ever again."

"Every day I get closer to making you regret dating me in the first place, but there's some things we shouldn't do." He lifts his head up and sets his lips on my chin. "Oh, I missed."

I laugh and let him kiss me. It's all soft and fun and stupid and giggly, just like it normally is. He makes me happy, like, all the way happy. Alongside that, apparently I make him a little horny, which is, in a very Rocket way, demonstrated by him pulling off his shirt.

"Um, hello." I laugh, looking up at him, then scrunching my nose to get my reading glasses to re-settle on my face.

He looks down at me, hands on either side of my stomach. "The reading glasses are cute." I feel his breath and then his nose nudges the side of mine.

"Thanks," I breathe into another kiss, feeling his nimble fingers reach up and pull my glasses off for me, then the tap of them being set on the side table.

I lean up on my elbows and let him help me get my shirt off, which is honestly a relief considering it was one of my older ones and settled just a little too tight around my shoulders.

"We have a half hour," I look over at the clock, then up at him. "Where are we going with this? Just so I know-"

"I dunno, I was just gonna hope they got here late." He shrugs. "On another note, when were we planning on uh, ya know."

I raise my eyebrows. "Uhm, not soon."

"Why not?" Milo stretches straight up and I watch the muscles pull underneath his skin, making my body temperature skyrocket. "We've been together for, what, five months?"

I clear my throat. "There's like, things you gotta do."

"That's why I asked," he laughs. "Plus, I've already like..." he stops that sentence with a cough. "What I'm saying is that I'm good to go."

"Uh," I won't tell him the actual hold up on this one, because it's really not a me thing and I should probably just get over it, but that's- "I mean, I was kinda just gonna let it happen. Definitely not right this instant, though."

"No, yeah." He laughs. "Can't have anyone-" The door opens into the main house and we hear chatter from downstairs. "Walking in."

"Right." 

***

back again. next chapter hopefully on friday considering school's been cancelled for thursday already in preparation (watch us get only like a half inch of snow) in other news: online school is completely incompatible with me and I'm like very close to losing it.

***

I can spit sixteen bars of tongue twisters
Without stutterin' stublin' dropping out 
But I cannot speak
When you're around. 

I wish you'd know 
I L to the O to the V to the E 
To the Y to the O to the U 
But I cannot speak when you're around. 

***

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