Work Text:
At the end of the autumn quarter, Art finds himself absorbed in the sleeping figure of Patrick Zweig.
They’re facing each other in bed—not cuddling, much to Patrick’s displeasure. He’d been looking forward to returning to the apartment after class and getting in bed with Art and Tashi. Forcing them to listen to his complaints about the difficulty of his final exams. Even getting lectured by Tashi about paying attention in class instead of texting them didn’t seem so bad. He just wanted to be close to them.
But when Patrick arrived back, already deep in his fantasy of cushiony pillows and the warmth of his partners’ skin, Art was in the kitchen drinking water, skin flushed and sweaty post-run. Patrick glanced around. No Tashi.
“Tashi went out with some classmates after their exam,” Art said, sort of out of breath. Patrick was unfazed by Art’s mind-reading abilities, instead overcome with disappointment. Art huffed out a laugh. “Stop sulking. She’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Patrick hummed and dropped his backpack in the doorway before heading toward Art. “Just wanted to rest with you guys,” he grumbled, dramatically draping his arms around Art’s shoulders. His jaw became damp as it brushed against Art’s hair. Art exhaled. “Wait for me in bed. I’m just gonna take a quick shower.”
“You don’t have to shower. I don’t care.”
Art grimaced. Lying in bed sweaty? Is that something he can be convinced to do? Is that what people in love do? Surely not.
He did it anyway. Let himself be dragged by Patrick to their pushed-together beds.
And it’s gross, unsurprisingly. So gross he asserted that absolutely no cuddling should occur. “If Tashi finds us both tangled up and sweaty in bed she’ll actually kill us.”
“She’s already gonna kill us,” Patrick responded, attempting to pull Art into his chest.
Art pushed him off. “Patrick. It’s disgusting.”
A more wakeful Patrick would’ve continued to insist, but he conceded to falling asleep facing Art.
Patrick fell asleep in fifteen minutes. Art didn't. Instead, he listened to Patrick snore and recalled a time where he was irritated by the sound. He finds it endearing now, so endearing that he can’t help but stare at Patrick’s parted lips and chest—rising and falling rhythmically.
Suddenly, he feels twelve years old all over again—curiously observing the new boy who he’s living with. Trying to figure him out even as he sleeps.
And though he’s long understood the intricacies of Patrick as a best friend, he’s still getting to know him as a boyfriend.
It was sort of a shock becoming acquainted with Patrick in that sense. After spending years witnessing Patrick treat relationships flippantly and two-time girls, he wasn’t necessarily expecting much maturity or sweetness. But, over the months, he’s watched Patrick grow into a partner he and Tashi could truly rely on. And, sure, maybe he didn’t have all the answers, but he put in the effort to be there for them.
When Marcus from their tennis team caught Patrick wrapping an arm around Art’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of his head, thinking stupidly that no one was looking, he tended to a shaken Art. Even though Marcus hadn’t been particularly shocked and didn’t make a big deal of it, Patrick hugged Art close and reassured him they were fine back at the apartment. No judgement.
And when Tashi broke down after receiving a below average grade for a human biology exam that she missed sleep to study for, Patrick held her although he hadn’t even understood why she was so torn apart by it. Not until she revealed that she needed to understand human biology. Needed to prevent any tennis player she worked with from ending up like her. Because, truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to fully come to terms with her injury. She could move on. She could pivot. But, a part of her still felt a bit worthless. And sometimes it was hard for her to watch Art and Patrick improve in ways she couldn’t anymore.
Hearing her tell him all that was overwhelming. He had this perception that Tashi was unshakeable and secure, but the more she let him in, the more he realized how soft her interior was. So, he worked on becoming more supportive. He made time to study with her, set timers for breaks, and left encouraging notes in her bag. But, above all, he emphasized that an accident on the court didn’t make her a failure for life. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Tashi Duncan wasn’t a failure.
Patrick’s love for them is clear. Perhaps it’s why Art skipped a shower to lie down with him. Perhaps it’s why Tashi joins them when she finds them in bed together. They’ll switch the bedding later. Shower when they wake up.
Art and Tashi are talking when Patrick is finding his consciousness. He’s not sure what they’re talking about. Doesn’t actually care what they’re talking about. Really, he’s just happy to have gotten what he wanted in the end.
He yawns as he repositions himself to lie on his back. Then, he looks to his sides with eyes half-lidded. Art and Tashi are already looking at him.
“Why’re you watching me sleep?” he asks with a teasing smile. “Creeps.”
Tashi rolls her eyes but her fondness is evident. “Art and I will leave you to sleep alone then. Come on, Art.”
He rolls over onto her in protest. She’s wearing one of Art’s Stanford hoodies.
“Jesus, Patrick, stop,” she yells, laughing a bit. Art pulls him off of her and he drops back between them. “Let’s just stay here a bit longer,” Patrick says, voice gravelly with sleep.
“Okay, got it. We’ll stay here a bit longer and make sure not to watch you if you fall asleep again.” Tashi responds. “Riveting.”
Patrick grins brazenly and sits up against the headboard. “I actually had something else in mind. Something more riveting. But, sure, you guys can do that.”
Tashi huffs out a laugh. “What did you have in mind?” she asks, sitting up beside him. The sound of blankets rustling reveals that Art has matched their new position.
“I think you know,” He says before cupping her cheek. Tashi makes a little sound—“Hm.”— and closes the gap between them.
Patrick’s lazy today, letting Tashi take the lead. She’s fine with that—more than fine when she can feel Art him soften and come undone for her.
She kisses him deeply and their breathy moans blend together.
Art watches the two of them together, feeling almost lightheaded at the sight. Desire warms his body and creates an unbearable eagerness in him. It’s one of the more difficult aspects of sex for him—having to wait his turn. He gets a bit pathetic when he’s desperate for touch, and he’s sure Patrick and Tashi are trying to pull it out of him when they make out in front of him like this.
With a quick movement, Tashi straddles Patrick, her bare thighs enclosing his lap. His hands move to her ass, covered only by a pair of black panties. She looks at him briefly, his mouth open as he breathes heavily. She smirks, cocky, and turns to Art.
His fingers are toying with the waistband of his running shorts. The outline of his cock is visible through the nylon. Half-hard. She says his name and waits for him to move forward to meet her.
When he’s close enough that she can hear his breath hitch and smell the ghost of dried sweat on his skin, she cups his jaw with both her hands and leans in to kiss him. After patiently waiting his turn, he’s greedy for her—opening his mouth to let her slip in tongue, moaning when she does.
Tashi feels Patrick’s cock twitch, and the apparentness of both he and Art’s arousal makes her wet. She wants them so bad. Can feel herself throbbing. Wonders if Patrick can feel it as she sits on his lap.
Overcome with the desire to do more than just kiss, she pulls back from Art. “Should we take your shirt off?” she asks. Art nods and lifts his arms for her to pull it off of him. She turns to Patrick then. “You remembered me,” he says. “Thank God.”
She scoffs and reaches to lift the hem of his sweatshirt. “So impatient.”
Beside them, Art slips out of his shorts, sitting in just his boxers. He places his hands on his lower stomach. Doesn’t touch himself although Tashi can tell he badly wants to. “Good boy,” she tells him, and he lets out a little noise. A soft whine.
She lifts herself off Patrick’s hips to remove his pants. They end up somewhere on the foot of the bed. “What do you want?” she asks. Patrick looks at her, expression dense with desperation.
“You,” he says. “On top.”
She’s unsurprised. It’s his favorite position. Even more so when he’s still drowsy post-nap. She dips her hand into the waistband of his boxers. When her hand finds his cock, his hips stutter up into it. He exhales, “Fuck. Wanna be inside you.” With that, she makes quick work of slipping his boxers off before pulling off her—Art’s—hoodie.
His cock sits hard against his lower stomach, neglected as she digs in the bedside drawer for a condom. He tears it open. She rolls it on for him and sits up on her knees to line herself up. “Want you bad. Want you so bad,” Patrick says, breathy. She slides her panties to the side. They’re damp. She wastes no time sinking down onto his cock. A whine escapes her as he fills her up. “Fuck, so good, Patrick.”
She leans forward to make out with him again. They’re sloppy—moaning and biting each others' lips. It’s good. Really good. But, Patrick wants to see Tashi come undone more, so he reaches a hand down to rub at her clit with two fingers. Her movement falters for a moment when she feels his fingers on her. She gasps and jerks her hips forward. “God,” she mutters, voice worn.
They carry on like that—Tashi moving up and down on Patrick’s cock while he works whines out of her with his fingers. Beside them, Art’s panting, his right hand in his boxers now. Tashi glances over. “Don’t come yet,” she chokes out. He strokes himself just once more before placing his hand back on his stomach with a groan.
“Can I?” Patrick asks. “So close.”
Tashi hums in the affirmative. She can’t last much longer either. Especially not when Patrick begins jerking his hips up into her without any restraint.
He comes first with a choked out gasp. He says her name and sounds wrecked. That’s when she comes, still lazily grinding against his fingers.
They stay there for just a little while longer, breathing heavily and letting the residual pleasure dissipate. But, as soon as Tashi’s level-headed enough to string together a coherent sentence, she turns to Art. “Wanna fuck him?” she asks.
He nods, eyes glassy and distant. “Uh-huh.”
Although he and Patrick switch, Art particularly likes being on top. Tashi and Patrick always praise him and guide him through it, which turns him on immensely.
With that, she gets off Patrick's lap, lets him take off the condom, tie it off, and reach over to drop it in the trash can by their bed.
Tashi moves to sit beside Patrick again as he pulls Art in for a kiss. “You gonna fuck me?” Patrick asks when they separate for air.
“Yeah,” Art mutters. “Gonna fuck you.”
He’s pretty destroyed already. There's a clear neediness in his voice after watching his partners together and not getting any release. It’s why Tashi swiftly retrieves the bottle of lube from their bedside drawer. Art slides off his boxers before Tashi hands it to him.
“Lie down for him, Patrick,” Tashi tells him as Art lubes up his index and middle fingers. Patrick obeys, lying down and bending his knees up. Art situates himself between his legs and dips in two fingers. Curls them until Patrick’s hips jerk and he lets out a low moan. “Fuck, right there, right there.”
Art fucks him with his fingers and Tashi points out when Patrick’s dick begins to stiffen. “You're doing so well, baby, he’s already getting hard again,” she says. “Why don’t you fuck him now, he can take it.”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, voice strained. “Want you now.”
Art knows he won’t last very long. He considers it a miracle he’s made it to this point without pitifully coming on himself untouched. So, he works quickly, squirting more lube onto his dick and lining himself up so he can at least get a couple of strokes in.
Patrick inhales sharply when Art presses into him. He’s tight, even more so when he’s clenching as he persists through the sting and stretch.
Art whines, overwhelmed, “Can I move please?”
Patrick nods. “Fuck, yeah you can move.”
So, he pulls back and pushes in and watches Patrick’s jaw fall slack. The image of Patrick like that makes his cock throb.
He picks up speed, fucking into him desperately. “Such a good boy Art,” Tashi says. “Gonna make him come again?”
Art’s face crumples. “Yeah, gonna—fuck. Gonna make him come.”
Art wraps a hand around Patrick's cock and strokes him sloppily as he continues the rhythm in and out of him. He needs some help considering he’s so close to finishing.
The new point of pleasure makes Patrick's whole body tense up. He makes a strangled noise. “God, so good, Art, feels so—”
It’s then that Art’s hips stutter and he cries out. “Sorry,” his voice is wrecked. “Couldn’t last, sorry.”
He attempts to keep fucking him, but the feeling of still being inside of him is overstimulating. “It’s okay, baby,” Tashi tells him and replaces Art’s hand around Patrick’s dick with her own. She strokes him to completion, and he comes on his stomach with a gasp.
Art lies down on top of Patrick after Tashi wipes the cum off of him with a tissue. Then, she slips her fingers in Art’s hair and scratches his head. They lie there quietly as their breathing levels. It lasts only a couple of moments before Patrick speaks up. “Okay, yeah, Art you should definitely shower now.”
Art smiles weakly. “I can’t move. I’m dead.”
Patrick scoffs. “You can’t move? I just got fucked. You came in my ass.”
A laugh from Tashi. “Just go shower together. You can hold him up Patrick.”
“Jesus Christ,” Patrick whines. “He gets whatever he wants.”
Tashi shoots him a look. Unamused. “What are you talking about? You just got to come twice. We literally did all the work and you just sat back.”
He grins cheekily. “Okay fine, I’ll hold you steady, Art, Let’s go.”
She watches them go—Art leaning his entire body weight onto Patrick to make it more difficult for him. She lounges in bed longer and listens to the sounds of running water and limbs knocking into shower tiles.
When she finally gets up, she strips off the bedspread and pillow cases and dumps the mass of fabric into the washing machine. It’ll be Art and Patrick’s job to remake the bed later she decides.
Evening is creeping up on them by the time they’ve all finished showering. They all smell sweet, like coconut and vanilla. Tashi started buying the larger size of her shampoo and conditioner because Art and Patrick started using hers. Now they walk around smelling like each other. It’s sickeningly sappy.
“I brought leftovers home from lunch with my classmates.” Tashi tells them. “They’re in the fridge.”
Patrick’s “God, I love you” mixes with Art’s “Thank you” as they pull out containers of salad, pasta, and grilled chicken.
They eat without much fanfare. Patrick tells them about the guy who showed up late to their macroeconomics exam and failed to convince the professor to give him extra time. “Poor guy,” Art says after swallowing a forkful of salad.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen that guy in my life,” Patrick responds. “I swear he just showed up for the final, though, so he was probably fucked anyway.”
“That could’ve been you, Patrick,” Tashi says, chuckling. “Thank God Art and I wake you up when you sleep through your alarm.”
“Thank you, guys. I love you,” Patrick teases. He wipes his hands then. “Oh that reminds me—I have to give you guys your gifts before we all go back home.”
He gets up and rushes to dig around in his backpack, still laying in the doorway. Tashi and Art share a look, both their brows furrow. “Wait, I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts, Patrick,” he says.
“It’s just something small,” he replies. “Don't get your hopes up.”
He returns with two little objects wrapped in paper. “Here,” he says, holding one out to each of them.
Tashi and Art both wipe their hands before taking their gifts. Patrick watches them, expression giddy, as they tear into the paper. Art pulls his out first and eyes it. It’s a circular dish, the inside painted yellow with curved white stripes on both sides to resemble a tennis ball.
“Oh,” Tashi says, laughing. “It’s cute, Patrick.”
All quarter Patrick had been bringing home various dishes and vases and bowls that he’d made in ceramics class. They had a dish by the door to hold their keys, a vase in the kitchen with a couple of flowers. Even a lopsided cereal bowl that Patrick insisted on eating out of. The ceramics had gotten increasingly better over the months, but the tennis ball dishes are clearly earlier works. Tashi smooths her thumb over some lumps and indentations of his fingerprints.
“I thought Art could use it as an ashtray and you could put your jewelry in it or something.”
Tashi smiles. “It’s really sweet, thank you.”
“Yeah,” Art says, a little embarrassed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Thanks, Patrick.”
“It’s nothing,” Patrick says grinning.
“Sorry we didn’t get you anything,” Tashi says.
“I mean, I guess you guys did make me come twice,” he says. “That’s better than anything else you could’ve gotten me.”
Tashi raises her eyebrows, “Alright, fine.”
Art turns to her. “Don’t feel bad, he’s gonna get ridiculously expensive gifts for Hanukkah.”
Tashi laughs. “You’re right, I don’t feel bad anymore.”
Patrick groans. “No, feel bad for me again. I’ll have to spend weeks listening to my parents compare me to my brother instead of being with you two.”
Winter break will be the longest they’ve been apart since they met in the summer. And sure, Tashi’s going to miss them, but unlike Art and Patrick she’s actually excited to go home to her family.
“We can call each other every night. Will that make you feel better?” Tashi asks.
Patrick huffs. “I guess.”
“It’ll go by fast, I think,” Art says. “But yeah, I’m really gonna miss you guys.”
They change the subject after that, wanting to enjoy the time they have together before they go their separate ways. So, they finish their meal with bickering and laughter before heading out to the patio. Art says he’ll try out his new ashtray, so he and Patrick share a cigarette. Tashi sits beside them and thinks about her dad coming to pick her up tomorrow afternoon and wondering why her hair smells of smoke. She’ll tell him she just lit some incense.