2:32 PM

2:32 PM

2:32 PM

He spotted Arden braced in front of the Time Crisis 3 cabinet with one foot forward in a wide stance. Light gun in hand like he meant it. His big frame moved with the recoil. His hoodie rode up just slightly at the back, exposing the soft dip of his lower back. Beard thick, jaw tight, locked the fuck in.

His presence filled space in the way that phone screens always fail to telegraph. Full, broad, and warm-looking. He wore a gray zip-up hoodie, unzipped halfway to reveal a black Nintendo 64 tee. The classic logo slightly faded but unmistakable, tucked just above the waistband of a well-worn pair of jeans. The hoodie sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, exposing heavy, hairy forearms. He braced for his active shooting stance at the cabinet in tattered black sneakers that looked like they belonged to someone disinterested in pretense.

Wade caught himself smiling. Soft and involuntary. There was something about seeing Arden in motion, in real space, that made every inch of their friendship fall into place.

He looked down at himself briefly. Black tee, black Carhartt work pants, beat-up skateboard sneakers, and an oversized flannel still half-draped from the walk over. He hadn’t been trying to match a vibe, but he liked the visual of it now. Him all shadow and corners, Arden all softness and light. The chemistry checked out.

“You’re just gonna start without me, huh?”

Arden turned and lit up with a big, toothy grin.

“You took forever, nerd,” Arden said. He dropped the gun into its holster and crossed the distance in two strides. Arms open, wide and easy.

“I was over there bodying strangers with Dan, bitch,” Wade said, already walking into the hug with sturdy steps and quiet adrenaline. They met chest-to-chest with a heavy thump of impact. Wade’s arms wrapped around Arden’s build, his hand landing with a firm smack between his shoulder blades. Arden’s body was solid and warm — broad back, soft belly, arms that felt like they’d been built for moments exactly like this. Wade responded to it with a long exhale.

“Dude.” Wade muttered. “You’re fuckin’ real.”

“Been this whole time, actually,” Arden muffled into his shoulder.

“You’re a lot warmer than I imagined.”

“Warm and heavy,” Arden muttered. “I’m basically a human weighted blanket.”

When they finally pulled back, Arden gave him a once-over, eyes flicking over the tattoos, the nose ring, the thick arms. “You really do look like someone who mods GameCubes for fun.”

“You look like you give great hugs and make terrible coffee.”

“I do make terrible coffee,” Arden said, bumping shoulders with him.

“You really went for Time Crisis I was just joking.”

“Obviously. I needed to ground myself this weekend with recoil training.”

“Stop.”

They stood side by side for a few minutes, Arden finishing his run through the Time Crisis level while Wade leaned in close, observing. Wade handed him a sip of his water bottle without asking. Arden took it without thinking.

“You’re taller,” Arden said, squinting up at him.

“You’re broader,” Wade shot back. “You feel like you could anchor a boat.”

“I contain mass.”

“You contain emotional support per square inch.”

“Haha alas, I contain multitudes.”

The arcade had that idyllic whirr of machines that had been loved into disrepair. The boys took turns on House of the Dead 2, then tag-teamed Gauntlet Dark Legacy, hooting and shoulder-checking like teenage brothers. Trash-talking like it was an old, practiced bit, shoulders bumping every so often.

Every now and then, Wade would glance over and take in the way Arden’s forearm twitched when he button-mashed too hard. Arden occasionally nudged Wade with his knee when he came through with a killer headshot or a timely heal.

Later, as the arcade noise swelled around them after finishing a round of “Butterfly” on DDR SuperNOVA, Arden checked his watch and nudged him. “Panel in 20. You still wanna hit the retro dev talk?”

“Absolutely. Then the weird fan translation thing after. Trust me you’ll hate it but there are some people there I wanna see.”

“It’s whatever. If I’m bored I’ll just test drive that modded PSP Go you were talking about on the server. You bring it with you?”

“Yeah it’s in my pack and half charged. You should be good.”

“I should be good? How old is that battery dude?”

“I’m no slouch I replaced that jawn with an aftermarket one the moment I got it, dude.”

“Nice let’s go then,” Arden said, bumping their shoulders together again as they started toward the escalators.

They moved through the convention hall together, bodies close, matching pace. At one point, Arden rested a hand on Wade’s back to guide him through a dense crowd — casual, grounding.

6:48 PM

6:48 PM

6:48 PM

The rain had held off just long enough to catch them off guard.

It started as a drizzle somewhere between the ramen bar they chose for dinner and the waterfront walkway. Then it quickly turned into a full downpour that came down hard and sideways. By the time Arden and Wade pushed their way through the glass doors of the Gaylord Convention Center, they were drenched.

They were laughing, though. Hearts racing and shoes squeaking across polished tile as they jogged through the lobby like kids sneaking in late from recess. Arden’s hoodie clung to him like a weighted towel, sleeves dripping, beard flecked with rain. Wade’s jacket was practically plastered to his skin, tattoos visible through the cling of soaked cotton, water beading down his arms and into his waistband.

Neither of them said much. Just exchanged a look that said “Jesus.” But also, “worth it.” They headed straight to the elevators. By the time they got to their room, Wade was shivering slightly. Arden pushed the door open, pushed it shut behind them with his foot, and let out a long, soggy groan.

“Well,” Arden said, peeling off his hoodie like duct tape. “This is disgusting.”

Wade peeled off his shirt, revealing the inked canvas of his chest and arms. Black traditional tattoos curved across his pecs and down his stomach. Mythical creatures, wizards, orcs, the bold outline of a sword just beneath his ribs. His tattooed skin was smooth, creating a cooling effect in close contact.

Arden watched, easy and unhurried, eyes trailing over him with quiet appreciation. Not loaded. Just presence. Familiarity.

They dumped their wet clothes over the backs of chairs. Shoes by the weak heater vent. Both of them were stripped to their briefs within seconds. More out of sheer practicality than anything else. Two cold, wet dudes who didn’t care enough to perform modesty after the night they’d had.

Shirtless, Arden was just as much a unit. Broad pecs dusted with dark hair. A curved, yet strong belly that shifted and revealed slight muscle tone at his sides as he bent towards the mattress. He grabbed one of the heavy hotel blankets off the foot of the bed and tossed it over the middle. “Alright. Emergency warmth protocol. Get in here.”

Wade didn’t hesitate. He climbed into bed, still damp. The hotel sheets cool against his thighs. Arden followed a second later, sliding in beside him, both of them tugging the blanket up like it was armor. Their skin brushed immediately — shoulders, arms, knees. Warmth passed between them in quick pulses. They didn’t flinch.

Wade rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow. “OK, that ruled let’s kart.”

Arden smirked, already half-under the covers. “You’re gonna crash so hard trying to drift with shivering thumbs.”

“I thrive in adversity,” Wade muttered, sitting up to reach for his backpack.

“That ramen,” Arden said leaning back, voice soft and sincere, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t even know how to explain it. It was like… hot in a way that made everything else stop for a minute.”

Wade stopped and glanced over, smiling. “The broth?”

“Yeah. And the… whatever that chili paste was. It didn’t burn. It just like, settled into me. Like it understood something about my body I didn’t.”

Wade snorted gently. “That was miso with spicy negi. It’s all about balance. Fat, heat, salt, smoke. Good bowls don’t yell at you. They know how to hang.”

Arden let out a small laugh, hand resting now across his belly. “That’s what it was. It didn’t taste like ‘flavor.’ It tasted like someone took the time to get it right.”

Wade nodded. “That shop does it right. I look forward to it every year. Noodles were on point, too. Little chewy. That texture’s hard to get unless they’re made fresh.”

“I was so used to thinking ramen was like… something you’d make at home with a kettle and the flavor packet.”

Wade looked over at him, watching the slow grin spread across his face.

“That bowl rewired me. I feel like my body’s gonna crave that now. Nothing else is gonna cut it.”

“You just unlocked a new standard,” Wade said, resting his hand lightly against the bedspread between them. “Sorry, bro. Can’t go back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I want that broth to talk to me when I’m sad.”

They untangled slowly, neither of them in a rush. Wade grabbed the Switch dock from his backpack while Arden slouched at the foot of the bed, flipping through inputs on the hotel TV. Within a few minutes, the jazzy jingle of Mario Kart 8 filled the room.

7:41 PM

7:41 PM

7:41 PM

They lay side by side, playing slowly with the only light coming from the television. Their legs brushed from time to time, and neither pulled away.

Wade’s hand eventually found its way to Arden’s thigh. Just resting there. His thumb lightly dragging across the skin. It wasn’t a come-on. Just anchoring.

After a while, Arden set down the Joy-Con with a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“You good?”

Arden’s voice came out gravelly. “Didn’t realize how much I needed this dude.”

“I know.”

Arden turned his head and looked at Wade with bleary ocean eyes. “You ever get that thing where… you’re doing fine all day, but then your body hits a bed and your mind suddenly feels hella activated?”

Wade nodded. “Yeah. Like your heart’s still sprinting, even though everything’s quiet.”

Arden exhaled, long and slow. “I don’t know what to do with it sometimes. It’s like… I’m safe, but I can’t relax. Even here. Even with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything, dude,” Wade murmured. “You just gotta kick it and be.”

Arden blinked up at him. That same slow, tired honesty behind his eyes. “Thanks for not needing me to perform.”

Wade reached up, gently brushing the buzzed hairs on Arden’s temple with the side of his thumb. “Bro we’re just vibin. You don’t have to smile all the time or make it look easy. Fuckin unravel if you have to. We’ve got three days to unwind in a new city. You’ll get through it way better if you feel your feelings.”

Arden swallowed hard, and Wade could see the flicker of emotion under his expression. A loosening, like something inside him had just unclenched. Arden paused. “I’m just… burnt. I don’t know. I sat in on that panel earlier and listened to those dudes talk about branding like it was a blood sport. Just made me feel like I’m failing with my work. It’s like, every day I’ve got to sell a piece of myself. Perform excitement. Pretend I care about analytics. And if I’m not constantly delivering, I’m invisible. It gets in your head.”

Wade nodded, his voice soft. “Yeah, you’re pretty fuckin visible dude. We all see you.”

Arden blinked at that. Eyes slightly wet. Not crying. Just frayed.

“You in your head again?” Wade asked softly.

Arden nodded, beard scratching against Wade’s skin. “It’s like… I’m doing everything right, and I still feel like I’m not enough. Like no one on my team sees the effort unless I break myself showing it.”

Wade looked at Arden intently. Dropping his hand from Arden’s temple to the curve of his raised shoulder. Pressing in slow and steady, coaxing the tension away with a steady knead.

The men shifted again, rolling gently until Arden was on his side, facing Wade. Their knees bumped. Bellies touched. Wade wrapped an arm around him, and Arden pulled him in with that same strong, unthinking instinct he always had — like he knew Wade needed to be held too.

Wade leaned in, pressing his nose against Arden’s bearded cheek, breathing in the scent of clean laundry and something distinctly him—woodsy, like cedar, a pleasantly light musk, and heat.

Arden chuckled softly. “You’re cuddly.”

“You’re so warm,” Wade murmured into his beard, his hand now sliding slowly across Arden’s chest, feeling each hair as if it were his intent to count them. The Joy-Cons fell to the floor.

Arden shifted again, this time pulling Wade more fully onto him. Wade followed willingly, pressing his body along the length of Arden’s, their chests and bellies fully immersed. Wade’s tattoos peeking around the bend of his torso as if they were escaping. Arden’s hand caught them, tracing a lazy patterns along their design. His touch feather-light, reverent.

Their legs tangled next, Arden’s meaty calves brushing against Wade’s shins. Wade’s foot slid along the top of Arden’s, slowly, experimentally. Arden responded by curling his toes slightly, then gently rubbing the side of Wade’s foot with his own. In full comfort, Arden cupped the back of Wade’s head with one big hand, thumb stroking just beneath his ear.

“That feel okay?” Arden asked, his voice a warm rumble beneath him.

“Mmhmm,” Wade exhaled. “You have really nice hands.”

Arden chuckled. “They’ve been through a lot, but not too much. Mostly handling hard drives and carrying equipment.”

“Not to be unoriginal, but they do feel safe,” Wade whispered in a gravel tone, barely above the sound of the rain tapering off outside.

They lay like that for a while. One long stretch of quiet. Their skin warm against each other in patches. Arden’s belly rose and fell beneath Wade’s arm. Wade’s foot slid over to rest against Arden’s ankle. Their bodies didn’t need permission. It’s as if they already knew how to rest like this.

Arden let out a long breath. “You ever just need someone to pat your damn back and tell you you’re doing fine?”

Wade grunted. “Every single day, my guy. I make due with the rare occasion that presents itself.”

“Facts I guess.”

He gave Arden a few slow pats on the chest with his palm. Thump. Thump. Then he rubbed gently over the center of his sternum. It was a joking gesture at first. Just messing around. But then Wade left his hand there, warm and still.

“You’re doing your best, by the way,” he said. “I can see it. That counts for a fuck ton more than you think.”

Arden didn’t say anything at first. Just turned his head a little toward Wade, beard brushing against his shoulder.

“I get tired of being solid all the time,” Arden said. “Like I have to be the one with the plan, or the answer, or the thick skin.”

Wade shifted up onto one elbow and looked down at him, his brown eyes softer now. “Yeah homie you don’t have to be a mountain. We’re in fuckin DC perusing overpriced retro games and watching live chiptune music. You can be just a guy.”

Arden chuckled lightly. “Just a guy in his underwear, getting heartfelt pep talks from his brother.”

“Yeah that,” Wade said, flopping back down.

Arden reached up and pulled Wade into a one-armed bear hug, tucking him close and pressing his cheek to the top of his head. His broad fingers rubbed slow circles on Wade’s upper back, hand spanning almost from shoulder to shoulder.

“I ever tell you I’m glad we’re friends?” Arden murmured.

“Only when you’re tired like this,”

Arden’s voice came again, quieter now. “You ever feel like touch is the only way you can stop thinking?”

“Yeah. Like it shuts the noise off. Like my body knows I’m safe, even if my brain hasn’t caught up.”

Arden nodded against him. “Yeah same.”

Wade leaned up just a bit, forehead resting against Arden’s, noses barely brushing. Not a kiss. Just closeness. Rain tapped steadily against the tall hotel windows of the Gaylord, a quiet percussive rhythm behind the low vibrations of the room’s air unit.

Their bodies were soft, full, and strong in different ways: Wade, with his tall frame, thick arms, and inked chest that caught the dim light like a storybook in shadow; Arden, burly and grounded, the kind of body built for carrying, for enveloping.

Wade laid on his back, his hand lazily rubbing the outside of Arden’s thigh. Arden quickly turned and hovered over him on all fours, one thick arm on either side of his head. His large hands pressed into the mattress, knuckles dimpling the blanket. Wade reached up instinctively, his palms grazing over Arden’s chest, then slowly around to his sides. The skin was warm. Firm under a layer of softness.

“Damn,” Wade said, breath low. “You’re stacked.”

Arden grinned. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Wade said, hand now traveling across Arden’s broad shoulders and down his triceps. “You feel like… I don’t know. Like you were made to wrap around people. You’ve got this strength that just feels good.”

Arden shifted his weight a little, flexing his arms as he leaned in. His biceps thickened beneath Wade’s hands, triceps pushing out like solid, rounded cords. His chest lifted with the effort, pecs rising and firming with the movement. Wade’s hands roamed in admiration over the slope of heft and hair. The way Arden’s body responded so easily to the attention.

Arden smirked a little. “You’re makin me blush.”

“You’re makin me flustered,” Wade said, eyes locked on him now. “It’s not even fair.”

Arden lowered himself just enough that their curved bellies touched. The contact made them both sigh quietly. Eventually, Wade’s voice came, barely audible. “Thanks for letting me just… be in this.”

Arden rubbed his shoulder once, slow and strong. “You never have to ask. I should be thanking you.”

The room fell quiet, and their breathing slowed. They didn’t plan to nap. They just sank — into the comfort of skin, the trust in touch, the wordless knowing that neither one of them had to be alone right now. Full-bodied, skin close, no pressure, no expectation. Finally allowed to stop moving.

9:49 PM

9:49 PM

9:49 PM

The glow from the TV had faded into one of those idle standby screens, casting a soft, blue wash across the bed and their bare skin. Outside, the rain kept its rhythm, tapping against the glass in gentle patterns.

They curled into each other over the hour, arms looped around waists, bellies warm and full. They breathed in sync, slow and deep. Every now and then, Arden’s thumb made a small, unconscious motion, back and forth along Wade’s shoulder blade, like his body wanted to keep giving even while unconscious.

Wade was the first to stir, though only barely. Eyes creaking open, slow and unfocused. He didn’t move much. Just blinked, reoriented himself to the dim room, and adjusted the angle of his face into Arden’s chest.

Arden’s voice came a moment later, low and groggy. “We crash?”

Wade yawned. “Power nap.”

They didn’t move right away. Arden stretched his legs out under the covers and sighed, the whole motion pressing their bodies closer together for a second.

Wade glanced up at him, voice still hushed. “Wow that broth really did it’s thing on both of us. You good?”

Arden nodded. “Real good. You?”

Wade gave a soft, closed-mouth smile. “Yeah. I think I needed that more than I knew.”

Arden eventually reached out with his free hand and patted around until he found his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up his face with that cool glow. He blinked at it, eyes adjusting.

“Still early,” he said, angling the phone so Wade could see too.

Wade squinted at the phone display. 9:49 PM.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said. “Whole night left.”

Arden locked the screen again and tossed the phone down beside them. “Wanna do something dumb and cozy?”

“Always.”

Within minutes, the familiar start-up chime of Super Mario 64 filled the room. The big TV bathed the space in nostalgic blue light. They took turns, swapping the Joy-Con back and forth between them as they tried to remember the quickest routes to the stars in Bob-omb Battlefield.

Whomp’s Fortress. Cool, Cool Mountain. Every level like a reflex. Arden missed a wall jump and cursed under his breath.

“Did you know the penguin race is technically timed down to the frame, but it doesn’t tell you? The little jerk knows when you cheat with the shortcut.”

“Oh, I know. Learned that the hard way in ’98.”

“This game feels like a warm bath for my brain,” Wade said.

“Same,” Arden replied, still in that post-nap, low-lidded voice. “Also I’m pretty sure Mario’s voice in this game is burned into my neuroses.”

After a while, Wade looked over, eyes still shining. “Okay. I think it’s officially pizza time.”

“God, yes,” Arden said, reaching for his phone. “I’m getting us a big pepperoni. No pineapple. Don’t panic.”

“Dude you have my full trust.”

“Big one,” Arden said. “Greasy, cartoon style. My stomach wants to suffer.”

Wade turned his head towards Arden. “Let’s fucking go.”