Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wes’ hands are steady as he carefully pipes delicate red roses on vibrant green frosting. A bouquet worth of blooming cupcakes lay before him but his mind can barely remain there to enjoy the beauty of his creation.

Instead, its fixated on the way Isaiah smiles, the way he chuckles from deep within his belly whenever Wes makes a dry comment, the way his lips feel on his skin, the way whispered sweet nothings have laced fingers around a heart he had always thought to be cold and undeserving, clutching it tight, warming him, protecting him.

He thinks of strong arms and firm touches, certain that he is lovable, that he doesn’t disappoint. Soft hands in his as he’s somehow convinced to dance.

The vibrations in his shoulders from the tattoo gun he’s held most of the night have mostly faded but still linger as a ghost haunting him, distracting him further from the fine petals he’s attempting to add to the last couple flowers.

2 more and then he’s done and can crash for the rest of the day.

He takes a deep sigh, straightens up into a stretch, shakes out his arms, and gets back to it, determined to finish them and finish them well.

He lets his mind slip back to Isaiah and their date last night before he had to go into work and Isaiah to bed.

The front door cautiously open as he moves to the last one, squeaking slightly at the last moment as Jane slinks inside, cringing at the noise. He makes a mental note to fix that later. She waves at him, a tiny smile on her lips making her dimple pop out clearly despite the living room having no lights on.

How anyone can be so chipper at an hour like this never ceases to baffles him but he nods at her, his face deadpan as ever.

But maybe she isn’t as chipper as he initially thought as he watches the smile droop as the exhaustion of her double shift at Billy’s heavily weighs her down and she sits on the couch, slumping to the side, resting her head on the cushion.

She pops back up as she registers what he’s doing. He knows what’s coming, knows the insatiable nature of her sweet tooth that, according to August, has only gotten worse since they freed her.

He grabs a plate, placing a cupcake on it and sets it on the coffee table next to her before she's even drawn a breath in to ask.

He sits down on her other side, leaning his head back as he rubs at his blurry eyes, knocking his glasses up with his knuckles and fixing them on his face again. He yawns as Jane speaks softly.

“Huh?”

“You always make these so pretty I almost feel bad to eat them,” Jane repeats.

Wes presses his lips together nervously. “It’s food. It’s meant to be eaten.”

“Still. You’re very talented,” Jane says through a full mouth. “Thank you.”

“Yup. I was making them regardless.”

“How was that date?”

“Good.”

Jane smiles genuinely. “Just good? You made cupcakes for just good?” she asks, her tone teasing but not in a malicious way that makes him feel under attack. It’s good natured and kind and makes him feel seen in a way that he’s still not used to.

Heat floods his cheeks and his hands fly to his face to cover it so she can’t see. “Shut up. It was wonderful, ok?” he grumbles quietly.

“I’m glad. He’s a lucky guy,” Jane says sincerely.

“I’m lucky. He’s...” Wes gestures vaguely in the air, searching his brain for a way to say what he means. “He’s perfect.”

Jane nudges his knee with hers gently, making sure that nothing else of hers touches him to respect his boundaries with physical contact. He huffs softly at the movement, not entirely upset that she did it. “You deserve someone that loves you like he loves you,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Ok.”

They sit in a comfortable silence.

He supposes it was too quiet, too calm, too peaceful because Jane is whispering his name repeatedly as he resurfaces from his unintentional slumber. “Weston? Come on, Wes.”

Wes groans softly. “What?”

“You fell asleep and the rest of the gang will be getting up soon.”

Wes groans once more as he stands. He grabs her shoulder gently, squeezing it lightly as he passes by her. “Thanks,” he mumbles, still half asleep. He pauses, glancing down at her seriously, more serious than his usual, her shoulder remaining unreleased in his grasp. “I know I’m not one to be very emotive but I do enjoy your presence here. I like what you bring to our dynamic. Especially August. You bring the best out of all of us. Thank you.”

Wes isn’t sure he’s ever seen Jane speechless but she seems to be just that. She stands next to him, opening her arms for a hug. “No pressure if it’s not your thing.”

Wes wanders into her arms, allowing himself to be hugged by her. His arms find their way around her waist as he rests his head on leather, Jane still in her signature jacket.

He shocks himself with the amount of comfort he feels in that moment, her body heat radiating off of her like the ball of sunshine that she is. The scent of pancakes and oranges muddling with the background chocolate from his cupcakes is a supremely soothing way.

If he actually liked his family, he supposes he’d compare her to his sister but he doesn’t so he won’t insult Jane in such a manner.

Once she releases him from her embrace, Wes stumbles to his room, practically drunk from his lack of sleep at that point. He flops down face forward onto his bed, weighed by a new key to apartment 6E, gifted to him less than 12 hours prior, that rests tucked in the breast pocket of his oversized flannel shirt.

Isaiah’s grin flashes behind his eyes before he finally falls asleep for the day.

Today wasn’t merely good. It was fucking brilliant.