Blake doesn’t move, frozen to the spot, eyes on Elliot, clearly asking him what the fuck he’s doing. Elliot doesn’t have an answer to that question. He doesn’t want Blake to leave. There. That’s the answer.
He glances over his shoulder. The two people who are making out are still there, all the way across the balcony, out of earshot. The smokers have gone back inside without Elliot even noticing. It probably looks like they’re having a conversation, maybe standing a little closer than you normally would, but it’s not like anyone would question it. At least Elliot hopes not. Blake hasn’t tugged his arm away yet, but he’s quiet, waiting, like he doesn’t want to make the next move.
Elliot doesn’t know where to go from here either. He started something and never considered how to finish it.
“You wanna stay a little longer?” Elliot asks.
Blake looks down at him, licking his lips. “Elliot…”
There’s so much in that one word, a quiet warning, and longing, too, like Blake can’t fucking stand Elliot’s fingers on his skin but can’t bring himself to tell him to stop, because he wants this, too. Elliot is dying to press closer, get his hands all over Blake, on that soft sweater and then under it, get his thigh between Blake’s legs, wants to feel him shiver, wants to be the reason for it.
Blake lets out an unsteady breath, like he was reading Elliot’s mind.
Elliot squeezes his wrist and drags his thumb over his skin, where a tattoo is peeking out from under Blake’s sweater. Elliot’s never had a chance to really look at them. He has no idea what the hell he’s thinking, just knows he wants Blake’s hands on him, Blake’s lips on his. He leans closer, only a little, so he can keep his voice low when he says, “Come home with me?”
Blake’s breath catches. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then shakes his head ever so slightly. “You don’t really… Elliot. No.”
“Okay,” Elliot says.
“It’s a terrible idea.”
Elliot knows that. It’s the worst idea. But he’s also drunk and wants to plaster himself against Blake and never let go. “I want you to,” Elliot says.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes,” Blake mumbles and takes back his coat, goes inside without looking back and Elliot stays on the balcony for a moment longer and breathes in the cold night air and tries to wrap his head around what he just did.
His heart is fluttering in his chest, excited, scared, urging him to move, to stop standing here, contemplating what this means.
It means that Blake is coming home with him. That’s all that matters right now.
He doesn’t say goodbye to Adam, because Adam wouldn’t let him leave before midnight, so he goes to grab his coat, which takes a lot longer than he expected it would, because all the coats look the same and Elliot barely even remembers what brand his coat is, but he eventually stumbles across it and confirms that it’s his when he digs through the pockets and finds a receipt from his favorite dumpling place and a Subway ticket.
Elliot is the only one on the elevator, goes down, nods at the doorman as he leaves. No one’s out front. He probably took more than ten minutes to come down here. Maybe Blake thought he changed his mind, thought he wouldn’t come and went home. Maybe Blake changed his mind and left, not even waiting for Elliot to show up.
“Elliot.”
He whips around and finds Blake behind him. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” Blake says, smiling a little.
“Let’s go,” Elliot says and starts towards the street. It takes him forever to flag down a cab and by the time they slide into the backseat of one, his hands are blocks of ice and the tip of his nose is freezing cold.
Blake is quiet on the ride to Elliot’s, and Elliot desperately wants to say something, but all the things he wants to say are things he doesn’t want their cab driver to hear. He reaches out instead and takes Blake’s hand, his fingers warm against Elliot’s. Blake gives them a squeeze and wraps his other hand around them, too.
The ride is too long.
He can’t handle sitting here with Blake holding his hand when all he really wants to do is climb in Blake’s lap and kiss him until they’re both out of breath. Elliot slowly tugs his hand away from Blake’s and puts it on his thigh.
Blake shoots him a look, Elliot can tell, even though he has his eyes on their cab driver, to make sure that he doesn’t get interested in where exactly Elliot’s putting his hand. Elliot squeezes, gently, hears Blake’s breath hitch, the tiniest bit, and Elliot’s fingers give another twitch.
When their cab driver turns into Elliot’s street, he pulls his hand away and gets his wallet to pay, shaking his head at Blake before he can think about offering to pay half. Elliot thanks the driver and nudges Blake out of the car, trying to convince himself that he has to be patient a little while longer, that he can’t put his hands on Blake right here and right now.
He sways a little on his way to the door and Blake reaches for him to steady him, hand gone a second later when Elliot walks on without falling over.
Elliot laughs and finds Blake smiling at him when he ushers him into the building.
#
Blake absolutely isn’t drunk enough to go through with this.
Elliot stays close in the elevator, so close they’re almost touching, so close that all Blake would have to do is move his pinky finger and he’d be touching Elliot’s hand. The hand that was on his thigh no
