Bouquet of Clumsy Words
A/n: I’m so done, sorry, this is such a pisstake and it’s not even on time, wow. I always appreciate messages, they make me write more and stuff, so yeah :)
ezzieforprezzie drew the most darling milex Valentine thing (I stole the quote from it) and I can find the link but it’s on her blog and it’s so friggin cute.
A milex Valentine’s fic.
It had been a long time coming he supposed. Well it seemed it had been as he watched from the doorway that separated the small living room from the even smaller kitchen. The other man looked remarkably comfortable in his apartment, even had his feet on the sofa, Miles would’ve scolded him had he not wanted to keep the silence for just a little longer. Come to think of it- and it wasn’t like Miles was staring, he really wasn’t studying him, not at all- but come to think of it Alex wasn’t even enthralled by the magazine in front of him, propped against his thigh. He was obviously pretending to read it as the focus of his attention apparently swung between his own fingers and a small thread that was sticking out of the settee, the object of his amusement.
Miles stood still as long as he dared, sure he hadn’t been caught staring. Alex hadn’t moved the whole time, Miles wondered how long it would take for him to realise that there was no banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen where he was supposedly clearing up after their dinner. Actually Miles didn’t known why he was holding his breath, hands poised with a glass of expensive dark red wine for them both, an excuse perhaps at to why he was loitering. He distinctly remembered telling Alex, probably a bit shakily to get some record playing while he cleared away. Alex had ignored him clearly, settling as he had done, looking like he was about to start a confrontation.
Honestly he was expecting one. It was his own fault, on a whim that morning he’d lost all desire to be subtle. Alex had been invited over weeks before, no mention of the very specific date, or any connotations that “just dinner and a drink” might have because of it. He’d simply announced it as “come on Al, it’s the first Saturday we’ll both be free, when am I gonna see you next?” And Alex had immediately agreed. Although that was as far as subtle went because now the general idea seemed to be fuck it. It was all Alex’s fault. If the fucker hadn’t texted him around midday saying he was bored and “what time was this dinner thing again” and, AND, fucking “should I wear summat nice” with a fucking winky face tagged on. That was about the time that Miles had refused to reply, knowing he’d show up around five if he was as bored as he suggested. It was also about the time that Miles pulled on a jacket and hurried out, previous ideas about just grabbing a take away from the chippy entirely dissipating. He’d picked up pasta, some desire to home cook something that Alex might like. Arrabbiata, he’d mentioned once that it was his favourite. Miles had also picked up wine, two bottles, a very fine one, the one he now held in two sparkling glasses, the other, a personal favourite of his was significantly sampled when he’d arrived home and started cooking. It had only been 1pm when he cracked it open, but hey, it was 5 o'clock somewhere in the world. He’d forgone the flowers. Just about. Close though, very close to picking up roses, red ones. In fact he’d been toying with how much romance was conveyed by the cliche single red rose versus the whole bunch when he snapped himself out of it. Sure he was going for laying it on thick but he wanted an option for incase he felt weak, so he could laugh the whole thing off, flowers seemed like the tipping point.
It didn’t take long for Miles’ thoughts to be shattered by an exhalation. He almost didn’t want to let Alex speak but he knew he had no idea what to say, so he just stood there, wanting to wipe his sweaty palms dry on his carefully picked out trousers or the crisp shirt that he’d so carefully ironed because he was of course making an effort. Instead he just stood there, breathing carefully controlled. He could smell the candle he’d just blown out, smoke wafting in through the small room, that had been another touch. That and the red table cloth. Red table cloth that matched the colour of his cheeks when Alex had seen the set up, table for set for two, his favourite meal cooked specially, that fucking tablecloth and a single white candle in the centre. “Ooooh romantic,” he beamed, laughing and Miles smacked him lightly over the head with an oven glove, turning away so his flush was hidden.
Now Alex finally spoke up, dragging Miles out of his thoughts. “Mi?” His voice was soft and he tried to lock their gaze but Miles offered only a mumble that said he’d heard, crossing the room to place Alex’s wine glass down, not letting him speak just yet, “bought us some posh wine.” He murmured, still averting Alex’s gaze and instead seeing to the fact that the record player was still silent. He wanted to find a stupidly romantic record to put in, something with a deep croon and maybe some brass but nothing immediately sprung to mind and Alex’s stare was burning into his back. Instead he gave in and turned around. Alex was looking into his wine, and Miles knew he was about to say it, knew it was coming.
“Mi?” He asked again, hesitant. “Was this a date?” Miles almost wanted to laugh at that because Alex, Alex is so sure of his sentences, they’re thought out and careful, and often skirting. This seemed too direct, sudden, he wasn’t mincing his words here. Miles’ silence was obviously most telling, or perhaps it was his sudden interest in his own wine, one hand carefully being wiped against his shirt followed by the other. Alex wasn’t going to settle for silence apparently. “Fuck.” Then he paused. “It was wasn’t it? This was a date!” Miles’ ears were pink by now, he wanted to make his excuses to go and clear up or something but he was decidedly rooted to the spot. He didn’t even know why, because he’d fucking planned it, to a fucking T. His plan had gone far better than this mind. He chanced looking up then realising he had little else in the way of options since he’d left it too long in an awkward silence to go down the denial route. Instead he swallowed, took a deep breath, Alex wasn’t even looking at him anymore, had his head down and once again studying that bit of thread on the settee. “Um, do you wanna maybe…” He cleared his throat because, fuck, Alex was looking at him again with wide eyes and his lip between his teeth. His expression was unreadable so Miles just continued, “do you wanna be like..” He scratched the back off his neck with a sort of bitter chuckle, “my valentine… Or summat?” If it was possible Miles flushed even more and Alex’s eyes widened further. The silence stretched and Miles was seriously considering locking himself in the kitchen and just waiting it out until Alex eventually left and probably never spoke to him again, it seemed like he’d set himself up for a painful reality.
Next thing he knew Alex had his head in his hands and his shoulders hunched over. Miles sighed sadly, forcing a deep breath as his vision sort of clouded a little bit. When he heard a soft sniffle from the sofa he frowned, studying the man for a moment before he was quickly crouched beside him. Awkwardness aside Alex was still, just about, his best friend and he was sat on his settee crying. Miles didn’t know if he was allowed to touch him but did anyway, arm around his back in comfort, “hey, hey shhh, err ya don’ ‘ave to be me Valentine Al!” He assured gently feeling guilty now as well as stupid. To his utter relief Alex started laughing, just slightly, and then he sighed sadly, looking up and trying to compose himself. “Sorreh, Mi I just, it’s not tha’, and it’s not that I don’t wanna be, I- I’d love to, I think,” he uttered, face back in his hands and Miles couldn’t help but grin at him, “are ya serious?” He asked, uncertainly because Alex was still crying and as far as he knew it was his fault. “I mean, I did make ya cry, probably quite a shit Valentine that makes ya cry..” Alex laughed properly then. “Sorry Miles, wasn’t you, I just-” he took a deep breath, shaky. Miles yearned to take his hand but it seemed a boundary unable to be crossed while this unspoken situation was unresolved, he settled for subtlety leaning closer so that Alex’ side was pressed to his. Alex swallowed, “y-you, hmm… you really thought abou’ ev'rything, like.. I joked about yer… Fuckin’ candle and tha’ but secretly were ‘oping you’d done it on purpose, the whole night me 'eart’s been fuckin…” He trailed off, making some sort of hand gesture to signal what exactly his heart had been doing. Miles wanted to laugh, because how stupidly cliche could this be, only Alex could entirely miss out on the deliberate unsubtle hints that Miles had dropped. He sighed.
Alex turned away then and this time he wasn’t sobbing but staring at the wall with silent tears running down his cheeks and of course, of course Miles noticed. He deemed it safe to put an arm around him, pull him close and hope he didn’t flinch away. Alex only sighed yet again, “sorreh, it’s just stupid, I’m happy, I swear, I just- No one’s ever planned summat like this for me, like careful and proper- you cooked for me… me favourite thing and … I just-” Miles grinned at him, cutting him off, “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he murmured, closing the gap between them. It was awkward because they were sat too close and Alex’s knees drawn up to his chest were right in the way and his toes poked into Miles’ hip uncomfortably. Alex’s lips were salty with tears and tasted a little bit like the wine that he’d had a sip of and Miles hadn’t yet tried. He trembled slightly but his hand came up to the back of Miles’ head to pull them closer, fingers weaving into his hair. Miles knew it wasn’t this simple but he gave in to the moment. Alex’s kiss was passionate but in the softest way, it was warm and tender but held emotion, great emotion. Miles brought his hands to Alex’s face, thumbs ever so gently running across his cheeks to brush away the tears that still fell. It was Alex who pulled away, eyes still closed and breathing heavy. He finally opened his eyes and gave a somewhat watery smile. “Knew it were a fuckin date!” Miles shoved him lightly then, but allowed his arm to drape round his shoulders, coaxing him to lean closer and his fingers fiddled with a bit of hair behind Alex’s ear. He offered a slightly ambiguous “hmmm” but a wide smile. “Get yer feet off me settee Turner,” he chuckled lightly.