long time, first time [arthur hill]
your best friend arthur tells harriet rose on an episode of mummy's boy that he sometimes prefers kissing over sex. it leaves you with much to consider... and you have a long overdue conversation.
some delicious fluffy steamy goodness for the girl dying on the hill hill @cheekytv
MDNI / 18+ !!!
word count: 1.8K
—
it's wednesday evening. you'd had a long, stressful day at work, but wednesdays were always a little bit easier on you. you knew the day would end as it always did — curling up on the couch with a cup of tea to watch the newly released episode of mummy's boy.
arthur was your best friend. he had been for ages, since you were children, and lisa had always been like a second mum to you, especially after you lost yours when you were a teenager. you didn't get back to buckinghamshire nearly as often as arthur, but watching their podcast every week filled you with so much love and peace. it was comforting, like getting a little slice of home even from london.
this week's episode featured harriet rose, who you loved, so you wasted no time getting settled and hitting play.
there was no denying the lingering feelings that had come up over your years of friendship with arthur. they came in waves. sometimes you'd catch him looking, and he'd go all cute and pink. sometimes he'd catch you looking, and he'd get all smug and cheeky like he didn't normally go all cute and pink when the roles were reversed. you'd watched each other grow. and he had grown.
arthur was beautiful. tall, lean, tattooed, talented, confident. you'd witnessed his voice go from squeak central to genuinely angelic firsthand. he was in your top 5 spotify artists every year. you loved him.
arthur was always a pretty open book — there was little you didn't know about him — but you'd not spoken with him about romance and sex much, so you were always pleased to glean some tidbits of previously-unknown information about him from the show, like today...
arthur: I love a smooch so much. I love smooching. arthur: sometimes like, genuinely more than sex, sometimes. harriet: *gasp* and that's hot. from a guy. that's hot.
you couldn't help but scoff at his admission, despite the smile breaking out across your face. of course your charming, hilarious, handsome best friend was also disgustingly romantic. the bastard.
you couldn't help but wonder if it meant he was a good kisser.
as you listened through the rest of the episode, your mind kept wandering back to that bit. suddenly you could not stop thinking about kissing arthur.
it wasn't like you hadn't thought about it before — every cozy late night together watching films, every drunken stumble home at 2 AM with his strong arms holding you steady, every time he made you laugh so hard you cried... fuck. maybe you thought about it more than you realized.
how was it that you'd memorized the shape of arthur's lips without having ever touched them? shit. how was it that you'd just now been slapped in the face with the totally cliché and deeply inconvenient reality that you were painfully in love with your best friend?
you feel your chest tighten, panicking slightly as the thread of suppressed emotions you'd pulled on began to unravel rapidly. why the fuck did this passing comment about being a fan of kissing make you spiral so hard?
pacing back and forth around your flat, you stare at your phone screen — thumbs hovering over the keys in contemplation to draft a message to arthur. the texts go back years and years. there were no hellos, there were no goodbyes. he's always there, you're always there. your conversations never ended, they'd merely paused to let the rest of your life happen around you.
you: movie night? x finchy binchy: hell yeah, omw x
you exhale. why were you feeling so weird? this is someone you'd seen at least weekly for nearly two decades. he already had a key to your flat. he already knew your PIN number. he was already your emergency contact. why was your stomach in knots?
—
arthur strolled in 20 minutes later with a bottle of something and a warm hug, as always. the tension in your shoulders doesn't go unnoticed by arthur, but he tries to ignore it for now.
as you sit and chat, your mind feels like it's glitching. one minute you're fully panicking while pretending to be normal, the next minute, he's made you laugh, and you've somehow forgotten that you were panicking, and you do feel normal for a second. but then you remember, and it happens again. it's giving you whiplash.
"so, uh..." arthur begins, trying to maintain a normal conversation. "what'd you think of today's episode? harriet's great, eh?"
nodding, you hum affirmatively. "yeah, it was a fun watch. she's hilarious."
"... that's all? you usually have more to say," he observes.
"oh, well... yeah, it was a good episode. I don't know," you offer half-heartedly with a tight-lipped smile. you know you're being stupid. you know you're driving him insane. you can't help it. you're gnawing on the inside of your cheek so hard you can taste iron.
his brows furrow as he turns fully to face you, acutely aware of the fact that you've hardly made eye contact with him all evening. "are you okay, mate? did I like, do something?"
"no, no, you're fine. I'm fine. just, weird mood I guess," you reply quickly, trying (and absolutely failing) to reassure him as you feel the panic building in your chest. he knows you too well and cares about you too much. he's not dropping it — he never would.
arthur frowns, unconvinced. "c'mon, just tell me what's going on," he pleads, reaching out for you, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on your knee. "I want to hel—"
"I can't stop thinking about kissing you!" you blurt out as you flinch at his touch, face going bright red immediately.
he jerks his head back slightly, startled by your outburst, before processing your words. he fights the corners of his own mouth from curling into a smirk, trying to get more answers before letting himself celebrate. "w-what?"
"I... during the episode, you said the thing about... really loving kissing... and I just like, couldn't stop thinking about it after..." you force out, mild humiliation seeping out of your pores.
"about... kissing me?" he double-checks, trying not to sound smug.
you run your hands through your hair before burying your face in them, a low, exasperated chuckle escaping you. "yeah. s'fuckin' stupid. think I'm just tired. and it's probably been even longer than I thought since I kissed someone last. just fucked me up a bit. couldn't get out of my head. sorry, ignore me."
silence fills the space as arthur hesitates, unsure how to best respond aside from a brief shake of the head, a brushing-off of your unnecessary apology. the quiet sends chills up your spine, makes your blood run cold in fear. you've fucked it. you've destroyed your oldest friendship. you've ruined your life.
the sheer horror of it all leaves you no choice but to lift your gaze to meet arthur's, his pretty hazel eyes wide and glued to you. to your surprise, you don't see disgust, or anger, or even discomfort. he's looking at you pretty much the same way he always has. attentively, curiously, softly... but suddenly you see it, and you feel it: the fire quietly burning in the depths of his stare, shining in the golden sparks decorating his kaleidoscopes of green and brown that only lit up when you were in the room.
oh. was that always there?
"why are you looking at me like that?" you mutter, nearly whispering.
he experimentally, carefully puts his hand on your knee again, and this time, you let it stay. "because I think about kissing you all the time," he gulps. "and I never thought I'd hear you say that."
you inhale sharply at his confession, brows furrowing. "what do you mean?"
"I've thought about kissing you more times than I can count. like, for years," he reveals, almost out of breath, and your eyes go big. "and I know you're saying you were just thinking about it today but I can't keep pretending I haven't been thi—"
"it wasn't."
"what?"
"it wasn't just today," you shake your head feverishly. "I couldn't tell you how long ago it was that I thought about it for the first time. it's been years for me too. since we were kids."
he looks at you in disbelief, like he can't believe what he's hearing. "wait, what? actually? why didn't you say anything?"
"the same reason you didn't, arthur," you sigh bittersweetly.
after a moment of pause, he nods in understanding.
"well, I... fuck. then can we please stop being stupid now?" he asks, a hint of near-desperation in his tone as he moves over to you.
"yes please."
your breath hitches as arthur immediately pulls you towards him, sliding a palm around your waist and planting it firmly on the small of your back. his other hand runs up your arm slowly and cups your jaw, thumb grazing your bottom lip before finally closing the gap between you.
the tightness in your muscles dissipates almost instantly, your body melting into his as your fingers curl around the fabric of his sweater. his lips connect with yours urgently and a warmth fills your chest like nothing you'd ever experienced. you sigh into his mouth, dizzy with adrenaline and the years-overdue release of suppressed need for your best friend.
his hands explore you so reverently, like you're a piece of art, and a soft groan slips from between his teeth as you tug gently at his roots. his tongue is sweet with cheap rosé and pretty words as it melts against yours, arms steady as he pulls you into his lap, caressing everything he can reach and tangling his fingers in your hair.
you slide a hand down his chest and stomach, slipping under the hem of his shirt in a wordless plea for him to take it off. he sits up briefly to remove it and you do the same, aching to feel his warm skin on yours. you'd seen him shirtless countless times, but he'd never seen you that way — and certainly not without a bra, which you weren't wearing after a long day of work.
a gasp rips from arthur's throat as he looks down from peeling off his own shirt to find yours gone and your tits bare. his hands wrap around your waist as he admires you, breathing heavily. "fuck," he exhales, thumbs gently brushing the underside of your chest. "you're amazing."
he pulls you in and your lips crash together once more, desperately clawing each other, hands dancing around newly exposed skin. his mouth trails to your neck, hot open-mouthed kisses pulling soft moans from you, setting your nerves alight as he sucks at the sensitive spot under your ear. he carries on down to your clavicle, to the top of your heaving chest, worshipping every inch of you en route to your breasts and further, to spend the whole night in veneration of your body.
arthur takes his time, slowly unraveling you, hearts in his eyes as you fall apart under him, your love-bitten lips crying for him over and over as he leaves no part of you unkissed.
—
taglist:
@themdera @pookietv @smzyyx @insomniac4000 @whereforarthur @w2soneshots @authortelevision @m3vl0vesu @elhotchner @idolofthewestcoast @a3naa @darleneslane @happyclifford @whisperturnedecho @formulaal @bethorwhateverr @maplesnowflake @shootingstarsinthesky @clarkeysbedchem @artvscvntymullet @xoxoxyra @livvymd
