summary ﹏ When you excitedly ramble about your newest hyperfixation, Garrett quietly proves he's been listening to every single word; even while hopelessly admiring the way your face lights up when you speak. He realizes how much he loves when you speak about the things you like.
Not because he understood every niche hyperfixations you picked up over the time (or the ones you had due to tv shows, movies, new books) and neither because he shared every one of your interests (although he'd certainly try if it made you smile) but because there was something about watching you talk that made the rest of the world fall away.
Whenever you became passionate about something, your voice changed first; it grew brighter, quicker, words tumbling over one another as if your excitement couldn't wait for your mouth to catch up. Your hands came alive, painting invisible pictures in the air, your eyes lit with an enthusiasm that was impossible to fake.
Garrett had fallen in love with you long before he'd realized it, but moments like these reminded him why he kept falling anyway.
The afternoon had settled into one of those quiet stretches neither of you ever seemed to question. Rain drummed gently against the dorm window, muffling the sounds of students wandering the hallway outside, while your room carried the familiar scent of coffee, laundry detergent, and the vanilla candle you always insisted made the place feel less like a dorm.
You sat cross-legged on your bed with a notebook balanced on your lap, eagerly explaining the newest interest you'd thrown yourself into. Garrett had abandoned his bag on the chair at your desk almost immediately after arriving and stretched out beside you instead, one arm draped lazily across the mattress while he laid on his side, facing you.
“...And that's why everyone gets that part wrong,” you explained, flipping to another page covered in hastily scribbled notes. “They're looking at it from the wrong perspective. If you actually compare these two—”
Garrett nodded thoughtfully before you had even finished your sentence. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“It does, right?” you said, grinning.
“It really does.” He voiced back, eyes all fond when looking at you.
You continued without hesitation, delighted that he was following along. Garrett asked the occasional question—not enough to interrupt your train of thought, but enough to keep you going. Sometimes he repeated something you'd said in his own words just to make sure he'd understood correctly, and every time he did, you smiled a little wider. He liked seeing that smile; maybe a little too much.
As you launched into another explanation, Garrett found himself studying you almost without meaning to. You were still talking, still enthusiastically connecting ideas with quick gestures of your hands, but his attention drifted between your words and everything else about you like the tiny crease that appeared between your brows whenever you were concentrating, the way your nose wrinkled for half a second when you disagreed with your own point before correcting it or the little laugh you gave yourself whenever you realized you'd skipped ahead in your explanation.
It wasn't that he had stopped listening, quite the opposite. Somehow, listening to you and looking at you had become the same thing. “Garrett?” You called him back to the living world. “Hm?” He blinked at you, surprised for a second.
“You've been awfully quiet.” He blinked once again, before smiling. “Sorry baby, I was listening.” You tilted your head, amused. “You sure about that?”
“Very.”
“What did I just say?” Without hesitation, he answered, “You said people misunderstand it because they're treating those two events separately instead of looking at how they influence each other. You think that's why the conclusion everyone reaches feels incomplete.”
You stared at him for a moment before laughing. “Okay. You were listening, I believe you now.”
“I told you, didn’t I?”
“I just…” You smiled sheepishly. “You had this look on your face.”
“What look?”
“I don't know.” You gestured vaguely toward him. “You looked... somewhere else, Like I look, sometimes.” Garrett chuckled under his breath, his body shifting on the bed which made it creak very quietly. “I probably was.”
“I knew it.”
“But not because I wasn't listening.” You looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest. He reached over almost absentmindedly, brushing hair away from your forehead before letting his fingers linger lightly against your temple. “I was listening to every word.”
“You just got distracted?” You asked again, tilting your head to the side all while looking at his face and the fond expression he had on. “A little.”
“By what?” His smile softened into something quieter at your question. “By how happy you are.” You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” His thumb stroked gently along the side of your head before slipping into your hair, absentmindedly combing through the locks. “You always get this smile when you're talking about something you love, and sometimes you don't even realize you're smiling.” You instinctively touched your own face. “I do?” You can’t help but ask, surprised and full of curiosity.
“Mhm.” He continued threading his fingers through your hair slowly, almost absentmindedly now, and watched your shoulders relax beneath the touch.
“You smile before you've even finished explaining your point and then your eyes get all bright because you're already thinking about the next thing you want to tell me.” You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed at the explanation, realizing how much he had focused on you to see all of that.
“I didn't know you noticed all that.” You whispered then, and he smiled at the words before replying. “I notice everything.” The words came so naturally that Garrett didn't even seem to realize how intimate they sounded until your expression softened. “You really do, don't you?” He nodded once, his head tilting to the side to look at you with a new angle, trying to memorize all of your features. “I love hearing you talk.” Your whole face warmed and so did your stomach; butterflies flying inside.
“Even when I ramble about my hyperfixations and interests?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Especially then.” Garrett nodded his head at the question. “You've listened to me explain this for…” You glanced toward the clock on your nightstand. “...Almost forty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
“You aren't bored?” He looked genuinely surprised by the question, like it didn’t came to his mind that he could have been bored. “No, baby, not at all.”
“You would've told me?” Your eyebrows furrowed but amusement appeared on your face, a bit like a childish expression and your boyfriend smiled at that before nodding. “I would've.” He said back to you.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” His hand paused long enough to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheekbone. “I don’t mind listening to you talk for hours,” he admitted quietly. “Whether it's something I already know or something I've never heard of before... I like hearing it because you're the one saying it.”
Your heart squeezed at his words; all the love he had inside of his body flowed around the room like a perfume you only were allowed to smell. “That's disgustingly sweet.” You laughed quietly at him and he chuckled back, rolling his eyes fondly. “I know.”
“No, seriously.”
“I know.”
A helpless smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You realize that's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said to me.” Garrett's eyebrows lifted, looking genuinely unconvinced as he absentmindedly ran his fingers back through your hair. “Really? I think I've said more romantic things than that.” His body shifted and the bed creaked as he sat up in front of you, legs crossed to imitate your position.
“You absolutely haven't.” You laughed under your breath, leaning a little closer until your knees brushed. “Most of your flirting consists of calling me cute when I'm half asleep or stealing my fries and saying it counts as affection.”
“It does count as affection.” You scoffed at his answer, amused. “It absolutely does not.”
“It does if I'm the one doing it.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, unable to stop smiling now. “See? That's exactly what I mean. I think you've been confusing romance with flirting this entire relationship.” Garrett let out a quiet laugh, his thumb lightly scratching against your scalp before his hand drifted to the side of your face once more. “Do you have any defense at all for that?”
“I do.”
“Oh?”
His grin softened into something infinitely gentler as he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze warm enough to make your heart stumble. Then he leaned forward, slow enough that you could see exactly what he intended, and pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead before pulling back only far enough for your noses to nearly brush.
“I only flirt with one person,” he murmured. Your smile grew before you could stop it. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“And who would that be?”
“The one sitting on this bed with me.” His fingers found yours where they rested on the blanket, intertwining them with effortless familiarity. “The one who's been talking my ear off for the last forty-five minutes.” A quiet laugh escaped you, equal parts flustered and amused. “You are unbelievable.”
“So I've been told.” His grin widened just enough to show the smile you loved, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Usually by you.” His thumb lazily traced circles over the back of your hand while his eyes wandered across your face with the same tenderness you'd been trying to describe. “I like looking at you,” he admitted after a moment, when you thought the subject had changed. “I always have.”
You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
“You get this look whenever you're excited,” he continued quietly. “I think your brain goes super fast and you have a lot to tell me and you have no idea where you should start but I just love it.” Your heart skipped a beat inside your chest and you hummed, like telling him to keep talking. “So, yeah…” He let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh before meeting your eyes again. “I was looking at you.”
“Like I was the greatest thing in the world.”
His expression didn't change; if anything, it softened even more, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles as though he couldn't quite help touching you whenever you were close.
“You are, baby, that’s why.”
The answer was so immediate, so matter-of-fact, that it stole every clever response from your mind. Garrett didn't say it to flatter you or to make your heart race. He said it the same way someone might comment that the sky was blue or that it was raining outside: because, to him, it was simply true.
Garrett reached for your hand once more, lacing your fingers together before bringing your knuckles to his lips. His kiss was soft, lingering for only a moment before he rested your joined hands against his chest. “I don't have to choose,” he murmured. “I can listen to you and think you're beautiful and amazing at the same time.”
Your chest felt impossibly warm. “So you really heard everything? You’re sure-sure you were listening to me?” He grinned at the questions but he did understand where you were coming from; he did understand how important it was to you that he was listening. It wasn’t really about the talking, it was about being heard, being visible and seeing.
“You've got three main points, two theories you still aren't convinced about, and you think everyone's missing the obvious connection because they're focusing on the details instead of the bigger picture.”
You stared at him, because even if he had said that he was actively listening to you, you were sure he was exaggerating it a little. “I told you.” His thumb traced lazy circles across the back of your hand. “I was listening. I promised, didn’t I? What you say is important to me, baby.” A smile spread across your face before you leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth.
“I love you.” His expression immediately softened into that same hopelessly adoring look you'd caught earlier, one that never failed to make your stomach flutter.
“I know, and I love you too,” he said with a grin. “Now... tell me about that theory again.”
You laughed, settling comfortably against his shoulder while his fingers disappeared back into your hair. This time, when you started talking again, Garrett listened just as closely as before. He asked thoughtful questions, nodded at every explanation, and occasionally repeated your ideas back to you in a way that proved he was following every word.
Still, every so often, you'd catch him smiling at you with that unmistakable, lovestruck expression.
And every single time, you'd realize he hadn't missed a word. He simply thought that hearing you speak and watching you be yourself were two parts of the very same conversation.
Logan has a habit of looking for you the second he walks into a room; it doesn't matter if it's a crowded party, the hockey arena, or a lecture hall. His eyes automatically scan the space until they find you and the moment they do, his entire posture relaxes.
He is constantly finding reasons to be near you without realizing he's doing it. You'll be sitting on the couch and somehow he'll end up right beside you, one arm stretched behind your shoulders, his knee pressed against yours. If someone points it out, he'll look genuinely confused and mumble something about there not being enough room elsewhere.
He grew up learning how to fix things, so whenever you mention even the smallest inconvenience, he's already figuring out a solution. A squeaky door, a broken lamp, a loose shelf—he treats every problem like a personal mission. You once joked that he was your handyman and he spent the next week pretending to be offended while secretly loving the title.
He’s a sucker for hair pulling and when you force him to look at you while riding him. Logan is always focused on your face, taking all the expressions you make as he pulls you down on his member. He also loves calling you petnames like baby, angel, sunflower.
Logan absolutely melts when you're proud of him: he'll brush off compliments from teammates, coaches, and professors, but if you tell him you noticed how hard he's been working, he gets all quiet. His ears turn red and he suddenly becomes very interested in whatever is happening across the room.
He's big into praise when you both are having sex too, either it's receiving or giving: you'll never hear him degrade you, even if you beg for it. No, he wants to tell you how good you are being, how well you did.
Logan is surprisingly affectionate when he's tired. His usual confidence disappears completely and he'll drape himself over you, tuck his face into your neck, and grumble every time you try to get up. If you tell him you need to do something important, he'll mumble, "Five more minutes," like a giant overgrown puppy.
He gets ridiculously protective when you're sick. The second you mention feeling unwell, he's showing up with medicine, blankets, soup, and enough supplies to survive a natural disaster. He'll spend the entire day hovering around you asking if you need anything, even when the answer is always no.
He loves seeing you in his clothes; his hoodies, his shirts, even his pajamas pants either they fit you or not. He acts like it's a bother, like he wants to complaint about it, but it's all fake. He tells you that you can keep it and that he will buy more and he secretly hopes you will steal the new ones too.
Will definitely make love to you while you are wearing his hoodies; it's all soft, tender sex while whispering into your ears how pretty you are. You are his partner, he loves you so much, he wants to stay in your warmth forever. He can smell you everywhere and it drives him crazy in the softest way possible.
Logan likes listening to you talk, even about things he knows nothing about. You could spend twenty minutes explaining a hobby, a TV show, or college drama, and he'll pay attention the entire time. Not because he's interested in the topic itself, but because he loves the way your face lights up when you're excited.
He loves seeing you at his hockey matches; either you like it or not, he knows you will always be here to support him in his hobby. He's also glad that you get along with his friends, because to him, they are his second family after Jules and you are a part of it too.
taglist ﹏ @ravensreadingrecs @nuitts @filthgf @avasarchve @girldisrupted @userhotd @wiishies @cheriedove @corvusmorte @purplerainx1 ( to be added )
dean thinks there’s something ethereal about seeing you in his hockey jersey.
he doesn’t truly understand why couples makes a big fuss over wearing each other’s clothes before seeing you in a shirt with his name on the back. it’s weird, he tells himself. he had a lot of partners before but he never felt that way with them. with you… seeing you in this cotton jersey… it shouldn’t change anything but it does. because you’re beautiful in it. because he can imagine falling asleep next to you, cuddling you close to his body and nuzzling his face in your face to smell the perfume you wore hours before.
“hey.” is the quietest word he probably ever uttered in his life—all that to not break the peace you have melted yourself in. but you lift your head up to look at him as he closes the door of his room, a smile on his face and dean forgets about the world. “hey back, mr. di laurentis.” you joke as he walks to you, crawling in bed to feel your warmth.
“have i told you how beautiful you are?” he says then, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer until he can hide his face in your stomach; feeling cotton against his skin and peace inside his mind. you hum, running a hand through his blonde hair. “yeah, you might have. i don’t remember.” it’s a joke, again. of course you remember. but dean takes it seriously and lifts his head back to you, lips parted. you’re beautiful. you’re ethereal.
“you’re so beautiful.”
taglist ﹏ @ravensreadingrecs @nuitts @filthgf @avasarchve @girldisrupted @userhotd @wiishies @cheriedove @corvusmorte @purplerainx1 @simp4norria @lovelyy-moonlight ( to be added )
