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Shiloh was dressed casually, his jacket left slung over a chair in favor of working clothes, a familiar t-shirt, stained blue, and a pair of faded jeans. The shirt had hung in his closet the past month, and whenever he thumbed over it, he’d felt sad. Though it was clean, it was stained beyond repair, and most likely better meant as garbage, but it held such memories, memories that he’d thought would be the only thing he’d have left of Ian. But today, when he’d flung open his closet in search of suitable cleaning clothes, it had hung there, staring him in the face and the pang of sadness was gone.

He was glad he’d kept it.

It had been a couple days since Ian had left the infirmary, and they’d spent most of it together, Shiloh wheeling Ian around and Ian grudgingly obeying, despite his protests that his legs were fine. He was stubborn, but so was Shiloh, and that was the whole reason he was headed over to Ian’s room today. Shiloh was sure it would be in the same state of disrepair as he’d left it, neither he or Ian willing to let the other one help, Shiloh not wanting Ian to strain himself, Ian not wanting to not be able to help. Shiloh had only agreed on the promise that they wait until Ian was properly healed.

But he’d left Ian alone to catch a shower and a change of clothes, and he quickened his steps down the hallway a little, ready to pounce on Ian should he have already started. His bandana was tied around his head, keeping his bangs out of his face, and he reached back to tighten it one last time before opening Ian’s door, not bothering to knock.

“I’m back,” he announced, standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest and a smile on his face. “You dressed yet, chicken?”

"Yeah, well, looking hot takes time," he answered with a smile just as wide, pulled in for a kiss and taking the opportunity to slip the books from Ian's arm, reasoning, of course, that the shirts were lighter and therefore less strenuous for Ian to carry. He was out of the chair, it was true, but there were still bandages and injuries beneath them that remained, and Shiloh was determined not to let Ian push himself too fast.

"Books, and you were supposed to wait," Shiloh tutted, shifting the stack in his arms. "Where do you want these? Shelf?"

Ian had gotten ready quicker than he had, and still managed to look every bit as handsome, Shiloh noted, his clothes fit him in all the right places, and his hair, shorter now, framed his face in a way that Shiloh wanted to say was adorable, but just smiled at him happily instead. It was true he was the one giving Ian the second chance, but he couldn't help but feel he was incredibly lucky, in a multitude of ways and not all of them superficial, to have Ian. He was still getting used to the whole idea of things being back to normal, but being with Ian made it easier with each day that passed. He wanted to kiss him again, he thought, but they had work to do, and they'd already left it for a few days, Shiloh was worried if they didn't finish it now, it'd be another few days before either of them thought about cleaning again.

"I'll get the desk after, if you want to head clothes duty," he added, a pre-emptive strike against any protests Ian might have.

“Did not,” Shiloh argued good-naturedly, returning the stuck-out tongue.

He may have spent a bit more time than necessary choosing a shirt that was just a shirt. But though Shiloh played his wardrobe as casual, as just an old shirt to clean in, the fabric felt extra soft against his skin, as comfortable as the memories surrounding it. Wearing it again was like acknowledging that this was really happening, that they were really trying again. It wasn’t that he was stuck in the past, not really, but he needed any extra courage he could get, and if wearing the old shirt helped, he’d wear it until it was tatters.

Given the shape of it, however, such a fate wasn’t incredibly far off.

“No, no, those clothes stay on,” he laughed, scooting away from Ian’s wandering hand. He wrinkled his nose at him, and then he laughed again, the sound light and airy as he wandered to the other side of the room. He placed each book one by one on to the shelf, no exactly sure how to arrange them. His own room was mostly devoid of books, but he supposed Ian would sort them out later.

Picking out a book, not glancing at the title, he turned around, still crouched in front of the shelf. He held it up to his face, trying to figure something out as he studied both it and the desk.

“Think this would even it out?”

Ian’s teasing made him giddy, he couldn’t help it, even as he rolled his eyes at his goofball of a boyfriend (a word which, in and of itself, was wonderful to think of him as again) he was half-skipping to the shelf, caught up in the moment.

“Why do we have to wash my clothes?” he asked as he sorted the books onto the shelf. “You already have yours half ready to go, might as well load the rest in as well, right? Maybe I’d like some eye candy for a change, hm, did you consider that?”

But Ian’s kiss was well received with a smile, and he set the last book on the shelf, taking the one he’d pulled out and shoving himself to his feet, dusting off his knees. He took the couple steps to the desk, resting the book on one of its overturned sides. He glanced across the room, a question on the tip of his tongue but he was just in time to catch Ian half-assedly tossing his clothes into the closet in some semblance of ‘trying’ and he couldn’t help but grin, leaving the book and desk behind and sauntering over to Ian, slipping his arms around his waist and leaning into him.

“I mean, if they’re gonna end up on the floor anyway...”

He stood there for a moment, just attached to Ian, not letting him move or turn around. Ian’s shirt was soft against his face as he nuzzled it against the back of Ian’s neck, before curiously resting his chin on his shoulder, looking up at him.

“Why my room? It’s not a mess.”

Well, it wasn’t as much of a mess, at least.

He’d made a face in Ian’s direction, suggesting that he didn’t entirely believe in Ian’s innocence, not one bit.

But it wasn’t as if he could exactly talk, his arms now slipped around Ian’s waist, and he threaded his fingers together in front of him pulling him backwards against him.

“Of course I’m terrible,” he teased, “I learned from the best. Or should I say worst?”

But he lapsed into quietness as Ian leaned into him, content to take in the moment, to share the warmth between them, to be close enough to hear the gentle sound of Ian’s breath. He listened, though Ian’s explanation had a light flush creeping into his cheeks, he’d never thought his room to be anything special, but when Ian put it like that… Shiloh glanced at him, still curious, but for a different reason now.

And then the question came, as they gently swayed together, though it came out as a passing thought, as a suggestion, the question was there all the same. When they’d first met, Shiloh wouldn’t have known what to say. He could barely manage public handholding back then, let alone the idea of them sharing a room. Not that it had ended up stopping them from basically sharing one anyway, but officially, that was different. But now, now things were different too.

Ian was still taller, but wrapped in his arms like this, Shiloh felt like the tallest guy in the world and all he wanted to do was to hold onto Ian forever, to protect him, to keep him safe. The hesitation, the doubt, before he cared what other people had thought but such things no longer mattered, at this very moment there was only one opinion he was looking for and it’s holder was currently held in his embrace.

He loosened his grip, gently letting go of Ian in favor of turning him around and being able to look at him properly, to meet his eyes.

“Do you want to?” he asked seriously. “Move in with me, I mean, do you want to?”

As for Shiloh’s opinion, he didn’t know if it was a good idea. Was it too fast? Were they moving to quickly, all things considered? He didn’t have the answers to those questions, but what he did know was that listening to the what-ifs, to the doubt and the hesitation, that was a bad idea. The important thing was to exist in the moment right now, not to try and predict the future.

And right now, if he were honest, he wanted his boyfriend to move in with him.

For every reason for it, there were a million what-ifs that followed; Shiloh knew it as well as Ian. It was a massive step, for Shiloh, sure, but for Ian even more so, and Shiloh waited with baited breath for his answer, because though Ian had managed to find the courage to say those three words, words and actions were different beasts altogether, and it was far easier to say than do. He hadn’t meant his asking to be a sort of test, and if Ian wasn’t ready, he’d understand. He’d ask why this time, instead of just shrugging it off as being okay, but he’d understand and they’d work through it instead of pretending the question had never been asked. They’d deal with things right this time, even if they both felt like bolting.

But instead of step back, there was only a pause. Though it felt like an eternity to Shiloh as they met each other’s eyes, the seconds aching past, it was only a pause, it wasn’t running. And then, Ian’s fingers were sliding up his arms, his arms around his neck, and finally his lips against his mouth. It wasn’t exactly the answer he’d been expecting, Shiloh’s eyes widening in surprise for a moment before he settled into the kiss, as much as one could settle into something so impassioned it took his breath away.

He caught it, slowly, as Ian pulled just far enough away so that their foreheads met, and Shiloh peeked at him from half-lidded eyes, not exactly sure what it meant, not exactly sure what to say.

Luckily for him, however, Ian had the sense to clarify. That was all it took, Shiloh at once snapping out of his stupor, wrapping his arms around Ian in a flurry of movement, practically picking him up in his excitement. And then he was picking him up, the best he could manage anyway, half twirling him around before hugging him close to him, smothering him with feather light kisses wherever he could reach.

“Oh,” he said, a soft excited exhale, “Oh.”

It only dawned on him now just how much had weighed on that answer, how much he had hoped for the answer to be yes. It wasn’t fair of him, some part of him said, to impose so much importance on another person, but he couldn’t help it. His face was already beaming as he finally drew back far enough to look at Ian, the grin on his face a mile wide. To know Ian was willing, to know he was ready, to know he was willing to just try, Shiloh couldn’t have been prouder.

They were really going to do it; they were really going to move in together.

“I’m so glad,” Shiloh said, nearly crawling onto Ian in his excitement. “When, when did you want to move? Is it too early now? I mean if you meant a week or whatever timeframe, that’s totally okay, I just figured since we’re cleaning right, I mean, I know you just hung up your clothes but, let’s be honest, half of them are falling off the hangers already, so we could just pick them up you know, and carry them down the hall and we wouldn’t even have to worry about the desk right? Do we need two desks? Do you want your own, I mean you can have mine, I don’t think I ever even use it, really, oh, and bed, I mean, mine has always worked but we could borrow this one right, push them together? Or maybe that…”

He’d let go of Ian at this point, having turned around to inspect said bed, wondering if the frames would match up properly.

“Maybe if we put a blanket over this, right, where they meet…”

The second Ian’s fingers slid through Shiloh’s hair his babbling stopped, replaced instead by a happy sigh accompanied with a smile, tension not realizing he’d be holding onto slipping from his shoulders as Ian tugged his ponytail loose, running his fingers gently through the strands of his hair. The feeling made his heart flutter, it was so simple, so domestic, it was soothing, he absolutely loved it – he’d missed it. He’d missed the little things so much, little moments like these that he’d taken for granted. He’d missed everything, of course, but it was the little things, things he hadn’t expected but had always surprised him, like Ian playing with his hair, or finding his hand when he wasn’t paying attention. The fire, the passion, all that stuff was great, but when it came down to it, Shiloh was undeniably a hopeless romantic, even if he failed to realize it himself.

And to him, Ian was Prince Charming, pressing a kiss against his neck and sweeping him off his feet. Not literally, of course, but he might as well have as Shiloh leaned back into his embrace, his excitement stalled just long enough to enjoy the moment.

We’ll figure it out.

Together, they’d figure it out, together. It was almost enough to drive Shiloh back into a frenzy and he squirmed against Ian like an eager puppy, torn between whether to get started right now or to lick Ian’s face.

He settled for the latter, wiggling until he was facing Ian and leaning up for a kiss.

“If you fall off in the middle of the night, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, grinning against his lips.

“No way, not fair,” Shiloh protested but it was amidst peals of laughter as Ian picked him up and spun him around, forgetting to even chide him for not being careful. He was utterly swept up, both literally and figuratively by Ian. They tumbled onto the bed, Ian on top of him, and Shiloh happily sank into the mattress, slipping his arms over Ian’s shoulders. It felt like his face hurt from smiling so much, but there was nothing he could do, as Ian repeated those three words, his smile only widened, and he pulled him down properly, threading his own fingers through Ian’s short hair to pull him in for yet another kiss, less lively than before but longer lasting; he took his time savoring every bit of it.

“I love you too,” he answered softly, still smiling as he leaned back to look at Ian. He was almost convinced Ian meant it, he wanted so much to grab that hope and cling to it closely, to believe in it whole-heartedly. It seemed so easy when they were lying close like this, nothing to pull them away, nothing to interrupt. But the outside world did exist, and would continue to exist, and they’d have to find a way to survive in it, together. He hoped they could do it.

“You know, this is a closer inspection of the bed than I had in mind, but I can definitely see now, you’re right, we only need one.”

His grin was definitely cheeky.