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weneedglitter · 3 years

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I went through @sunsetcurvecuddles ‘s whole touch-starved willie tag right before class and then wrote this instead of taking notes. Come get y’all soft willex content

read on AO3 here

The thing about being in a bad situation for a long time is that your body and mind go into survival mode. You learn what you can ask for, what you can expect, and cut down to only the most crucial systems. If you go without for long enough, you start to forget anything else was even an option.

The thing about leaving a bad situation is that it doesn’t take long for the unconscious parts of you to notice you’re safe and start making demands.

Willie never wanted for anything with Caleb. He had his skateboard, he had a place to live, he had plenty to eat. Sure, maybe he was a little lonely for companions his own age, but there were tons of people at the club willing to indulge his chatter. Caleb wasn’t the warmest person ever, but he was far from cruel to Willie.

It wasn’t until the mess with Julie’s band had opened Willie’s eyes to the lengths Caleb was willing to go to get what he wanted that Willie realized that “a little lonely” wasn’t the most appropriate term for his time at the club. The few days he spent with Alex shone brighter than the sun in his memory, and every day beside them became inky and lightless in contrast.

But Willie’s not there anymore. He’s still reeling from the knowledge that Alex came back for him, refused to leave him behind after the role, however well-meaning, that Willie had played in bringing the boys to Caleb.

Now every day has Alex, has Luke and Reggie and Flynn and the Molinas. They’re loud and gentle and indecorous and always take the time to make sure Willie’s comfortable.

They also give affection so freely Willie almost doesn’t recognize it for what it is. With Caleb, touching was a direction. If his hand landed on your shoulder, it meant you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

In retrospect, it makes sense why watching Julie drop an absent-minded kiss on Reggie’s temple in thanks for his help with her homework smacks Willie with a wave of yearning so intense he has to escape to the studio.

It doesn’t make sense, Willie thinks, sitting perched on the back of the couch. His new friends are a tactile bunch; it’s inescapable. He knows they’ve been giving him space to settle in, but they’ve welcomed him in with very literal open arms. He’s not starved for the high-fives and hand-holds and hugs they all give out like it’s as easy as breathing.

But he can’t stop replaying the tender press of Julie’s lips to Reggie’s hairline. He remembers the hug Alex gave him on the street the day of the Orpheum show and wraps his arms tightly around himself, trying to recall exactly how it felt.

Like the memory summoned him, Willie hears footsteps on the stone outside, and Alex slips through the door. Willie notes dazedly how at home he looks here.

Alex’s brow is furrowed. “Reg and Julie said you ran out in a hurry, is everything okay?”

“You know it, hot dog. Better now, though.” Willie’s voice doesn’t sound like he’s expecting, misses breezy by a mile and lands closer to desperate. He suddenly becomes aware that every muscle in his body is tense.

Alex raises both eyebrows. “Yeah, I buy that. What’s going on with you?”

Willie shrugs helplessly, or tries to. He’s still tense. “I guess I’m just realizing some stuff.”

“About… the club?” Alex asks, walking a little closer with his hands deep in his pockets. Willie nods, the out-loud acknowledgement that something’s wrong at all making the feeling stronger.

Alex steps up to sit on the back of the couch next to him, the same way the two of them sat on the bench the first day they met. Willie feels sick with how much he wants to lean into his side, rest his head on Alex’s shoulder, but he just wraps his arms tighter around himself. He feels like a coiled spring, muscles taut and ready to – to what? He doesn’t know. He wishes he could relax. His neck aches. He curls in on himself, pulling at the tight knots along his shoulderblades.

Alex moves to sling an arm around Willie, the way he does with the boys, the way Willie’s seen Reggie and Luke do more times than he can count, but Willie’s body registers the motion before his brain does and reacts without his permission. It’s not a flinch, just his muscles ratcheting impossibly tighter, but Alex still clocks it and freezes with his hand halfway through the space between them. His gaze is too intense, too searching, and Willie has to look away, tracing the floorboards with his eyes instead.

Alex slowly lowers his hand so it rests on the couch right beside Willie’s hip. If he moved his pinky an inch, it would make contact with the rough material of Willie’s shorts.

It’s not new. It’s not exciting. Alex is a very physical person, though Willie suspects it’s learned rather than natural. Willie has never been an exception to that rule; he can’t count how many times Alex has wrapped a hand around his arm to get his attention or bumped their knees together in silent communication.

It’s not new, and it’s not exciting, so it doesn’t make sense that Alex’s hand resting next to him has his blood rushing in his ears. He feels unsteady.

“What’s going on?” Alex repeats. Willie can’t seem to open his mouth to explain, but he doesn’t know what he would say even if he could. He doesn’t know what’s going on. “Shit, are you okay?”

Willie doesn’t want to say no, because he doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn’t know why he’s not okay, but Alex must pick up on the tiniest shake of his head because he hops down from the back of the couch to plant one foot on the ground and the other knee on the cushions. His concern is growing. Willie turns his head to watch him move, stomach churning as he gets farther away but unable to reach for him. “Can I touch you?”

Willie nods vigorously before he can even think about it. Alex grips Willie’s upper arms, just above the elbow, and Willie shudders. His knees, which he didn’t realize were locked, go weak, and he slides uncontrolled down to the couch. Alex guides him to rest more securely on the cushions and sits next to him again, a little distance between them. Something in Willie aches.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks. “And don’t try to say it’s nothing, it obviously isn’t.”

“Um,” Willie says. He doesn’t want Alex to think he’s ignoring him, but it feels like there’s big blank spaces in the part of his brain where words go. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Alex replies. He’s too far away, Willie thinks. It would be easy to reach out. Alex would wrap him up without hesitation. Willie doesn’t move.

“Fortunately, Julie has a checklist for this kind of thing, because she’s a queen,” Alex continues. Willie’s pretty sure he would laugh at that, usually, so he huffs out a breath between dry lips. Alex leans closer again; the motion makes Willie realize his gaze has drifted away from Alex’s face again, fixated on the faded screenprint on his tshirt instead. Willie tries to drag his eyes up, but only makes it as far as Alex’s cheekbone.

“Okay,” Alex mutters. “Are you hungry?” Willie shakes his head. “Thirsty? No, okay. Tired?” He’s definitely a little tired, but that’s not the problem. “Cold?”

Now that Alex says it, his skin feels uncomfortably prickly, like he could start shivering despite the warmth of the air and both arms still clamped around his middle. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I’m too cold.” His voice comes out remarkably steady for how shaky he feels.

“Alright!” Alex says, cheered to have an answer he can take action with. “See, you gotta take care of yourself.” Willie knows Alex is better when there’s a problem with a solution right in front of him, something he can busy his hands with and see results. He looks around the room and locates a pair of blankets, snatching them up from the armchair. He puts one aside and drapes the second around Willie, leaving one arm across Willie’s shoulders. The proximity is dizzying.

“Better?” Alex asks, leaving one arm across Willie’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Willie gasps, like it was punched from him. Alex’s arm feels searingly hot even through the blanket and Willie’s shirt, his skin sensitive like the start of a fever. Maybe he really is getting sick. “Yeah, that’s better.”

It doesn’t feel better. It feels more, somehow.

Alex sees his ill-disguised discomfort and frowns, starting to pull away and give him space again. Willie almost sobs. A tiny noise escapes anyway, and Alex freezes for a second time. Then he slowly slides his arm back around Willie’s shoulders.

Willie is still so tense, it doesn’t surprise him when he starts trembling, minute shivers all over his body.

Alex wraps his other arm around Willie in a sideways hug. Willie’s teeth start chattering. “Wow,” Alex says, almost admiring, “You’re just all fucked up, huh?”

That makes Willie actually laugh a little. “I think you might be onto something there, hot dog.” He’s starting to feel lightheaded; there’s so much input, so many conflicting signals. He’s almost nauseous with how badly he wants to just slump into Alex’s embrace, let it be easy, leech off his body heat, but his muscles are wound taut on a winch outside of his control and everywhere Alex touches him it’s borderline painful.

He doesn’t know why this is happening. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want Alex to leave.

Like the universe is reading his thoughts, trying to find the one clear desire he can form just to yank it away, Alex starts to pull back and climb off the couch. Willie makes a tiny aborted movement to reach out and hold on. Alex still picks up on it, though.

“Hey, I’m just gonna move us around, okay? Just trust me.”

“Of course,” Willie says, too honest through his chattering teeth.

Alex takes the blanket and directs Willie to lie down on his side, spine flush with the back of the couch. He drapes the first blanket over Willie’s legs, tucking him in industriously, then squeezes onto the couch next to him and spreads the second blanket over both of them.

He shifts around so he’s lying fully on his side, facing Willie, pressed together all along their fronts. Willie’s eyes are level with his collarbone. Willie can feel the heat coming off him, the little puffs of his breath against the top of his head. He thinks he’d be dizzy if he wasn’t lying down. With the couch and the blanket and Alex in front of him, taking up his whole field of view, he feels surrounded, held on all sides. It’s so warm. He’s still shivering, muscles still tightly drawn, but the warmth of the safe little cave Alex has made is soaking in.

Alex slips an arm over his side, hand resting on the bare skin of Willie’s lower back where his shirt is riding up. Willie’s whole body trembles involuntarily; it feels impossibly warm, like it should be burning him, like when Alex pulls his hand away it’ll leave a mark, whirls of his fingerprints left behind on Willie’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Alex whispers. Willie nods, not trusting himself to speak with the way his breath catches on each inhale. “Stop me if it’s too much, yeah? Just tap me or something.” Alex slides his hand further around Willie’s back, under his shirt, calluses rough against his skin. He pulls Willie in so they’re pressed even closer together.

Alex’s hand spans wide over his spine, sweeping softly up and down. “It’s okay.”

That’s what does it; the tension releases like a snapping rubber band and Willie melts into Alex’s touch, locked muscles relaxing to send him slumping into Alex’s chest. His knees bend and tangle with Alex’s, forehead resting against his sternum. Alex ducks his chin to press his lips against the top of Willie’s head. “There you go.”

Willie’s breath shudders, caught between his mouth and the thin material of Alex’s tshirt. He squeezes his eyes shut. His throat feels tight, tears stinging at his eyes.

“Is this helping?” Alex asks, always checking in.

“Uh-huh,” Willie chokes out.

Alex hums and keeps lightly rubbing Willie’s back until his breathing evens out a little. Then he says, tone thoughtful, “When I figured out I was gay, I stopped touching the guys for two months.”

Willie looks up in surprise. Alex continues, “Yeah, I know, seems impossible. I just stopped initiating anything, pulled away any time Reggie or Luke were doing their thing, and eventually they stopped trying.” He laughs a little. “It was actually Bobby who talked to me about it. He said I was making Reggie think he did something wrong and I had to either cut it out or have a real good excuse.”

“What did you do?”

“Went back to the studio and sat on them.” The image makes Willie laugh. “I think they figured it out though, cause when I came out the year after I couldn’t get them off me for a week.”

Willie nods. That sounds about right. “What’s the moral of this story?”

Alex taps at his back chastisingly. “Don’t let it get this bad again, okay? You can always ask. I would do anything for you.” The mirror of Willie’s own words makes tears prickle at his eyes again, and he nods.

“Wasn’t on purpose,” Willie tries to explain. “I didn’t get any – any contact at the club, but you’re all so touchy, it should be more than enough.”

“Your tank’s empty,” Alex says. “You’ve been running on fumes for a long time, and we’re still operating at ‘be normal around the new person’ levels. You need what you need, and I can – we can give that to you.”

Alex moves his hand to run even farther up Willie’s back, finding the base of his neck with his arm still pressed hot along his spine. It’s an awkward angle but he gently digs his knuckles into the abused muscles. Willie groans. “Oh my god.”

“God,” Alex echoes. “Seriously, why didn’t you say anything? How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know,” Willie repeats, truthfully. “I think… I’ve been all fucked up for so long I didn’t even notice anymore.”

Alex moves his knuckles in a steady circle. Willie’s eyes roll up in his head. “Hhholy shit.”

Alex laughs, brushing little strands of Willie’s hair aside with his fingertips. “Willie, can I wash your hair later?”

Just the idea knocks the breath right out of him. “I might actually die.”

Alex laughs, shaking Willie with how tightly they’re pressed together. “That’s all it takes, huh.”

“You know I’m a rulebreaker. I couldn’t stand a conventional death. Here lies Willie, his boyfriend played with his hair and his soul left his mortal body.”

Alex’s hand stills. “Boyfriend?”

Willie tenses for all of a second before Alex digs his thumb back into the base of Willie’s neck and he goes limp again. “I mean – I kind of thought – if you want –”

Alex cuts him off before he can work himself up. “Chill out, you sound like me.” There’s a weird note to his voice, and Willie is startled to realize that Alex is nervous. “Boyfriend, though. I’m, yeah, I’d like that.”

“You’re into that?” Willie asks, nearly teasing.

“I’m into you,” Alex says, and Willie has to press his face into the space between Alex’s body and the couch to hide his smile.

The thing about leaving a bad situation is that you start realizing just how much you’ve been missing out on. Willie, cocooned in Alex’s arms, is learning that the thing about landing in a great situation is that you don’t have to miss out anymore.

#willie: *is hold*#willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #mine #willie jatp #alex mercer

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