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“Who is that?” Agron asked, eyes wide, red cup sliding out of his hands – fortunately empty. It only added itself to the growing pile of used cups on the floor, but Spartacus still gave him a nasty look, which he ignored easily.
“Who? Where?” Duro asked, peeking up over Agron’s shoulder, steadying himself by grabbing onto the back of his brother’s shirt. He was already a little tipsy thanks to the day drinking most of the frat had participated in once the game had started around lunchtime.
“Over there, right by the door. Don’t stare, jesus fuck Duro, be a little less obvious,” Agron hissed, instead focusing his gaze on the keg in front of him, trying to look casual while pouring himself a beer. He failed so miserably that Duro had to take the tap from him.
“You mean Naevia?” Duro asked confusedly. “You know she and Crixus-”
“What the fuck are you saying about Naevia?” growled a voice in Agron’s ear, sending him skidding off balance, forcing Duro to hang on to his shirt a little more firmly to keep them both standing.
“I wasn’t saying shit!” Agron whirled around to glare fiercely at Crixus, clapping a hand to Duro’s shoulder to keep him up. “The guy who came with Naevia, fuck, that’s who I was looking at, you dipshits.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m gay, why the fuck would I be looking at Naevia?” Naevia was pretty and all but this guy was fucking gorgeous as hell and probably a hundred miles out of Agron’s league. His skin was a warm brown, his eyes and hair dark – his hair was half tied back in a braid and all Agron’s little lizard brain could think about was sinking his hands into that soft looking hair and kissing the fuck out of him.
“What’s wrong with Naevia?” Crixus snarled, more tipsy than sober, upping his usual asshole quotient by about a million. Agron sent Spartacus a look that clearly said, look at the shit I have to deal with but the Sigma Zeta president was ignoring him in favor of watching the dance floor.
“I should send Sedullus home,” he said, considering. “He’s wasted.” The hugest member of Sigma Zeta was weaving across the house, getting in people’s faces and dancing with girls who didn’t seem too pleased with him. He got shoved away a few times, only to laugh and stumble on to the next person.
“Send him upstairs to one of the free rooms,” Gannicus suggested, arm looped around some girl’s waist, the other hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Rubinoff. “He’ll probably pass out the second he hits a mattress.” After a second, Spartacus nodded and barged out into the crowd to collect the drunken mess that was Sedullus.
“No, but what’s wrong with my girl?” Crixus asked again, this time trying to get up in Agron’s face, weaving slightly.
“Nothing, you bastard! Jesus fuck,” Agron growled, nudging him hard in the shoulder. “But I like cock not tits, so it doesn’t fucking matter!” Crixus eyed him unsteadily for a moment before nodding firmly.
“Love is love,” he intoned solemnly before teetering off into the crowd, unknowingly dodging Agron’s swipe at the back of his head by millimeters.
“What a fucking idiot,” Agron said, no little affection in his voice, even as he turned back to his brother, who was now standing on his own, with little to no listing to one side. Agron was impressed – but then Duro opened his mouth again.
“Wait, I think I know him, his name’s Nasir,” Duro said excitedly, shooting a hand up in the air as if to flag the guy down. Agron slapped at his arm, staring around nervously.
“Don’t fucking wave at him!” he hissed, nudging Duro back into the kitchen, away from any possibility of making Agron look like more of a fool than usual.
“Why not?” Duro asked plaintively. “I know ‘em, from that writing class I’m taking that all of you made fun of me for,” he made a face and Agron made one back, “And you think he’s hot, so why shouldn’t I make him come over?”
“Because you’re drunker than all get out and I’m not much better,” Agron groaned, “And if he’s in that fucking class he’s probably smart and artsy and clever and interesting-”
“Hey, does that mean you think I’m those things?” Duro interrupted excitedly and Agron scowled at him.
“No.”
Duro’s face fell and Agron sighed. “Maybe sometimes. On a good day. If you’re lucky. Like really lucky.”
“Aw bro, you love meeee,” Duro taunted, headbutting Agron in the shoulder gently (for a given definition of the word gently, which was anything but.)
“Shut up!” Agron hissed, tugging Duro even further back into the kitchen as he spotted Nasir and Naevia start to make rounds into the party. Thanks to the scenic hole in the wall of kitchen, courtesy of a broom sword fight between Lugo and Duro two months ago, Agron could still see into the next room somewhat – Nasir and Naevia had stopped at the keg and Crixus had joined them, one arm wrapped around his girlfriend. Agron could see Crixus say something, quickly followed by Naevia – something that prompted Nasir to throw back his head and laugh wildly. “Jesus fuck,” he breathed, “He is insanely hot.”
He waited for Duro’s dumb comment or stupid joke or even a punch to the shoulder, but it never came. He whirled around to find his brother heading out the kitchen door, back into the party, shoulders squared like he was marching into battle. “Duro!” he hissed at his brother’s back, lunging after him, “Duro, get back here!” Duro was too quick for him though, and Agron was left standing by an empty coat rack, trying not to look too closely at whomever Saxa was grinding up against. There were things you never needed to know about family, and that was definitely one of them.
Duro was headed right for Nasir, who was now alone at the keg, Naevia and Crixus having disappeared onto the dance floor. “Nooooo,” Agron moaned, trying to decide if it was better to leap forward and steal Duro away before he could say anything or whether he should find somewhere high to jump off of so that no one could witness what was promising to be the most embarrassing moment of his life.
Instead he froze, eyes wide and frantic as he watched in horror as Duro crowded up to Nasir and gave him a hearty slap on the back. He saw how Nasir struggled to pinpoint Duro in his memory, and then the hesitant smile he gave when he figured it out. They talked for a moment and Agron was almost a second away from hoping this would end without him having to change his name and move to Antarctica, when Duro gestured across the room at where he was standing, very clearly pronouncing Agron’s name and pointing right at him.
Oh jesus fuck.
Agron looked around frantically for a place to hide, or someone to duck down behind, but he was surrounded by his frat brothers, whom he towered over. “Why are you all so short,” he moaned loudly, before instead choosing to smile uncertainly across the room to where Duro was talking to Nasir.
Fuck. Who was looking right at him, eyes curious. Duro was waving an arm in his direction, saying something that Agron had no chance of hearing over the music and people talking, but that he hoped was flattering. Duro had a nasty habit of being either the best or worst wingman in existence, and Agron had no idea which one he would be at any given time.
Agron fidgeted, waiting for Duro to give him the sign to come over – and then froze at the sight of Nasir laying a hand on Duro’s forearm, smiling up at him widely. For a second, the sight didn’t compute – but then a rising tide of fury and disappointment and a hint of betrayal washed over him and he struggled with the urge to run over and yank his brother away as well as the urge to go back into the kitchen and stick his head in the freezer and sulk for the rest of forever.
He didn’t have the chance for either, because Duro was tugging Nasir over to Agron, looking pleased as a puppy with a bone. “And here he is, this is my brother Agron. Agron, this is Nasir, he’s in Creative Non-Fiction with me.” Agron took Nasir’s offered hand – the one not touching Duro – and shook it firmly, not trusting himself to say anything just yet.
“Nice to meet you,” Nasir called over the music, smiling slightly. His voice was even better than Agron had imagined – but he was still holding on to Duro. Agron tried not to want to throw up.
Duro stared at Agron expectantly and in turn, Agron eyed Nasir’s hand on Duro’s forearm with that hint of betrayal. Duro gazed open mouthed at the sight before carefully and delicately removing Nasir’s hand from his arm and placing it on Agron’s instead. Agron fought the urge to bury his face in his hands – did he have the stupidest, worst brother in existence, or what? – and instead tried to look like he wasn’t dying from all the blood rushing to his face at once.
“You two chat,” Duro shouted over the music, before disappearing into the crowd – but not before shooting Agron double thumbs up with the added pleasure of an atrocious wink.
“He’s really drunk,” Agron said as an apology, turning back to look at Nasir with a hesitant smile. Maybe he could salvage this? Or at least make sure Nasir didn’t think he was the biggest moron he’d ever met.
“I noticed,” Nasir replied, quirking his lips slightly, letting his hand squeeze gently at Agron’s forearm. “It’s why I was holding on to him, he kept leaning sideways and I thought he was going to take me down with him.” Agron immediately felt like the stupidest human in all of existence – but he was a stupid human who Nasir was still touching, so he had that going for him at least. “But you seem a bit more sober than that, so-” Nasir withdrew his hand with one last squeeze and Agron had to snap his mouth shut against the protest that no, he really was that drunk, please don’t stop the touching.
“Yeah, I’m doing okay,” he admitted, taking another slight step forward – under the pretense of not being able to hear Nasir very well.
“Well, you’re not holding one of those,” Nasir said, a slight smirk on his face as he gestured to the red solo cup one of the brothers was holding as he walked by. “That’s a point in your favor.”
“I dropped it when you came in,” Agron confessed, with no communication between his brain and his mouth. “You were really hot and I got distracted.” He froze, wondering if death would even be worth it, now that he’d embarrassed himself so entirely. Nasir looked at him oddly and Agron contemplated hiding under the keg table – but then he smiled and huffed out a laugh and Agron couldn’t help but be charmed.
“Quite a compliment,” Nasir said, tilting his head slightly to gaze up at Agron in consideration. “Bet you say that to all the boys.”
Agron shrugged sheepishly. “Nope. You’re the only one that’s ever been worthy of a beer drop.” That startled a laugh out of Nasir, who covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes dancing. “Don’t,” Agron said, without thinking, lifting a hand to gently nudge Nasir’s hand away. “Your laugh is fucking gorgeous.” Nasir stared at him, slightly open-mouthed and Agron tore his hand away, stuttering through an apology, “I-I mean, just that, I saw you before – you shouldn’t, I mean, whatever you-”
“It’s okay,” Nasir said quietly, a soft smile on his lips. “Thank you, no one’s ever said that to me before.” Agron managed a mangled smile, but no words – and for a minute or so, neither of them spoke.
“You know Duro talks about you a lot in class,” Nasir said into the awkward silence that had fallen, and Agron jerked his head up, eyes wide.
“What, shit, really? What does he say?” Agron turned to gaze across the room to see if he could catch his brother’s eye, but Nasir tapped him gently on the cheek and he snapped his attention back to the insanely beautiful man in front him.
“Well, it’s a creative writing class. We write a lot about our pasts, our families – he talks almost exclusively about you guys growing up.” Nasir ducked his head, smiling. “You sound like Superman, the way he talks about you.” Agron mouthed wordlessly, eyes fixed on Nasir.
“I-I, really?” he managed to get out, smiling slightly. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed but pleased. “I mean, we kind of raised each other back then, there wasn’t anyone else around really. I… he didn’t tell me he was writing about me, though. Hopefully nothing too terrible,” he said, grinning this time. There was an answering smile from Nasir and hope rose in Agron’s chest.
“On the contrary, you sound kind of incredible,” Nasir murmured, pushing forward a little so that when Agron shifted slightly, their chests brushed.
“Only kind of?” Agron muttered, distracted by the sight of Nasir’s tongue darting out to wet his lips, the ache in Agron’s stomach tripling as he fought not to crush Nasir against him and kiss the fuck out of him right then and there.
“Other than that time,” Nasir breathed against Agron’s jaw, “You two rode that rollercoaster eight times in a row and you puked for two hours straight.” It took him a second, but Agron froze, face suddenly on fire.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Agron growled, whirling to go hunt down his brother – when a hand to his chest made him pause. The feel of Nasir’s calloused fingertips against his collarbone made every nerve in Agron’s body stand at attention and for a second, all he could see was Nasir.
“No, don’t,” Nasir said, laughing slightly. “He’s the reason I’ve wanted to meet you.” He tugged at the leather necklace around Agron’s throat. “Why I’m really glad I got to meet you.” He was smiling, soft and quiet and full of something just for Agron. Agron was sure that a saint couldn’t have resisted if confronted with that smile. He leant forward and captured Nasir’s lips with his own, sliding his arms around his waist. The kiss was hot and soft and sweet and a lot of things Agron didn’t expect and couldn’t have dreamed of in his best imaginings. Nasir made a noise into his mouth that made Agron tighten his arms around Nasir’s waist, wanting nothing more than to drag him upstairs and find an empty room and never come out. By the way Nasir was clinging to his shoulders, he was in definite agreement.
It was fact. Agron had the best brother ever.
“That’s right, dude! Tap that!” bellowed Duro from across the room, hanging heavily off Lugo, who looked like he was barely managing to stand up himself. “Make the Schmidt name proud!"
Agron broke away from Nasir and groaned, hiding his face in Nasir’s neck. “If I promise to send him away so he can never find us again, will you agree to go out with me tomorrow?” Nasir’s fingers buried themselves in Agron’s hair, massaging gently as Nasir laughed softly against his ear. Agron rumbled his appreciation, pressing a kiss to the spot where Nasir’s shoulder met his neck.
“No need,” he promised, the warmth of his breath dancing across Agron’s cheek. “He might come in handy later. But he’s not allowed on any of our dates, ever."
“Agreed,” Agron breathed out eagerly, catching Nasir’s lips with his own before Nasir could think better of it, of him, and take it back.
A distant and drunk woohoo! could be heard from Duro’s corner.