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Shiloh’s cheeks turned a bright shade of read, of course he was glad Ian existed too, so incredibly glad, but hearing it aloud was different, to hear that his existence matter to someone, to Ian, to the person’s that matter most to his, well, coupled with the hands sliding beneath his shirt, warm and slinking against his skin, he was liable to faint just from the head rush of it all.

Luckily he was saved, in the end, by Ian’s superior wit, a wit so powerful that it had the power to stiffen Shiloh in all the wrong ways, as he promptly brought his hands up, pushing Ian up with the most unimpressed face he could manage, though it was admittedly quite difficult to keep his own laughter in check.

“I think I’m having second thoughts about this whole moving in thing, I’m not sure I’m ready to live with a teenager.”

Sitting up a bit himself, he leaned forward and caught Ian in a kiss, pulling at his lower lip gently with his teeth.

“Even if he’s totally a teen heartthrob, I don’t know if I can take the terrible jokes,” he paused, a smirk on his face as made a pointed glance downward, “Or the hormones.”

"Physically you're definitely a grown-up," Shiloh admitted. "But mentally? I just dunno, Ian."

That was as far as he was willing to relent, or at least as far as he was able to before he found his mouth promptly occupied. Not being in any sort of mood to complain, Shiloh's fingers coiled in the neckline of Ian's shirt, pulling him even closer. But it wasn't long before Ian's arms had slid beneath him, scooping him up and rolling them both over. As Ian's hands settled onto Shiloh's hips, he settled onto Ian's, enjoying his vantage point as he straddled him, looking down with a grin.

"I can take you, huh? When you put it so sweetly, gee, I don't know how a guy could resist!"

He fluttered his eyelashes at Ian before breaking into laughter and leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips. It was affectionate at first, though it lingered with a certain amount of longing, a sort of insatiable hunger. He'd never get enough of Ian, no one lifetime would ever be enough. But while he was here, he figured, he might as well make the most of it.

Sitting back up, he glanced down at Ian curiously. "Like a dollar buck? Or..."

Shiloh scoffed, pretending to act indignant at the very thought of being on Ian’s level. But then he was giggling as Ian’s fingers found his sides, it was childish and silly but he didn’t care – he loved every single second of it. This was the reprieve he’d been missing, the perfect getaway from the island that had always been only an arm’s length. The laughter that flowed freely between them was a medicine he’d sorely missed, and he already felt lighter for it, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, it was as though a weight had been lifted, his smile replaced.

He knew he shouldn’t depend on other people for his own happiness, but it’d been hard to smile, to really genuinely smile, without Ian, without knowing if he’d ever come back. But he was smiling now, beaming in fact, as he sat back from Ian.

“I’m not sure,” he said coyly, watching his fingers and Ian’s mouth with a sort of curious intent “Could you be more specific?”

The last part of his question trailed upwards, his voice raising an octave thanks to Ian’s deliberate hip rolling. Scrunching up his face, Shiloh was determined for revenge, only any plotting he had was interrupted as Ian crushed him into a hug, one he could barely move his arms enough to wrap them around Ian, let alone squirm his way out to retaliate.

Then Ian delivered the ending blow, hearing those words, Shiloh forgot all about the teasing and kidding around, his face upturned and staring at Ian with an honest hopefulness, an innocence that belied the way their mouths met, the way he softly sighed as Ian’s hand wandered beneath his shirt, leaning into the fingers playing gently against his skin. Shiloh mirrored the motion in turn, his own hands pushing up Ian’s shirt to splay over his stomach, then his chest as he pushed him down, all thoughts of ditching this for their original plan of cleaning, and now moving, forgotten.

He didn’t have the answer to Ian’s question, not in words anyway, as he leaned over him, his lips finding Ian’s neck and he pressed a kiss there, then another, tracing the line down to his collarbone.

---

It was a while later that Shiloh finally roused himself, the sheets half kicked off and he shivered. Half asleep still, he scooted over and huddling closer to the source of warmth lying next to him. It distracted him for a moment, while he sleepily nuzzled his face onto the back of Ian’s neck, his hair soft against his cheek.

“Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, and if he were a cat he would have probably been purring as his arms wound their way around Ian’s midsection, hugging him close. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that this was reality and not some morning daydream; hatched up after many a night spent alone, he’d wake up to find himself spooning a pillow. Pillows were soft, he thought as he snuggled against Ian, but they weren’t warm like Ian, they didn’t smell like Ian, they, in short, were not Ian but merely a very poor substitute.

His head was clearing but he tried his best to cling to the last vestiges of sleep, to burrow back against Ian and this wonderful dream. He was afraid to open his eyes because everything might fade away in a blink, and he’d be left alone again with only the receding comfort of a dream.

It was only with the wake-up kiss that Shiloh was convinced to open his eyes, certain that no dream could ever compare to the reality of Ian's lips against his, warm and wanting. He opened his eyes and, met with Ian's smiling face, he smiled too. He agreed with Ian's sentiment entirely, as they snuggles together.

He could definitely get used to this. He was going to, he thought happily, now that Ian was moving in, though he had to wonder if it was too much of a good thing. He was all for good morning kisses to wake him up, but the fact was that it wasn't morning but instead probably somewhere around mid-afternoon and not only was Ian's room still a mess, they hadn't even started in the whole moving process. He laughed a little to himself, as he took a look around the room and then, extracting himself a bit from Ian's arms, he leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"If we get used to this, we're going to get written up for never leaving my room." He paused for a second, thinking, then corrected himself with a grin. "Our room."

It was tempting to spend the rest of the day in Ian's bed, wrapped up in his sheets and his arms but love had done nothing to wane Shiloh's sense of duty and after kissing Ian one more time, he sighed and rolled himself off the bed, searching the nearby floor for his clothes.

Shiloh had expected the groan, anticipated it even. He knew how Ian was and furthermore, he knew how comfy his bed was, and how comfy lying together was, and it was only with extreme restraint that he’d held back a groan of his own upon getting up from the bed.

The whistle, however, while it should have been totally expected, caught him completely off-guard, turning him red all the way from the tips of ears to the bottoms of his cheeks. He hadn’t had a chance to even pull on any sort of clothing before Ian’s arms were around his waist, and he shook his head a little, smiling at his goofball of a boyfriend.

“Well, that’s a step up from cute at least,” he teased, giving Ian’s rear a swat as he slid past him. He’d learned his tricks from the best, after all.

Then, before they found some excuse for his clothes to stay on the ground, Shiloh quickly pulled on his cleaning attire, which was still incredibly clean, considering how little cleaning they’d actually gotten done earlier. He had to hunt a bit for his socks; one had hidden itself under the bed while the other was tangled in the sheets. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on, meeting Ian’s expectant look with one that asked, ‘What?’

Luckily, Shiloh did have an answer, though he had no idea if it was the correct one in terms of how to go about moving rooms. But he figured it couldn’t be that hard, could it?”

“I guess, well, we can gather up what you want to take and then make trips? It’s just down the hall anyway, and it’s not like there’s anything super heavy… Unless, did you want to take the shelf? We’ll have to take the books off to move it anyway, we could just carry it down after... Otherwise, it’s just your clothes and stuff right? Your crap.”

He grinned.

He’d at least accomplished fully clothing himself before Ian’s arms found him again, curling around him in a way that, though not productive in the least, made his heart flutter happily.

“Are you planning to pack me up too then?” he asked with a smile after Ian had kissed him, his fingers trailing across Ian’s arm as he pulled away. He agreed though, that moving in separate directions was probably for the best, as any sort of close proximity only encouraged reaching for each other instead of the items they were supposed to be moving, and even Shiloh’s willpower had its limits.

“Easier, huh,” he said, deciding to tackle the books now, rather than later. “”I see, leave the heavy stuff for poor Shiloh, it’ll be fine. Well, you’re probably better off with something easier anyway, I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

The last bit coming from anyone else might have seemed snide, but Shiloh’s voice was devoid of sarcasm by that point, being completely honest in his concern for Ian’s injuries. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Ian hadn’t grabbed to much clothing as it was, thinking clothing could still be pretty heavy, and he managed to catch the exact moment as Ian made contact with the wall, bouncing back against the pile of clothes in his arms.

“You’re a goof,” he laughed, gathering a set of books under one arm as he stood and made his way over to Ian. “That’s way too many clothes for one trip, it’s just down the hall, we don't have to get it all in one go.”

With his free hand, he found Ian’s within the pile of fabric, and latched onto it, pulling him through the doorway.

“It’s this way, follow me, chicken.”