aroceu's ficPran insisted that they get separate desks, even though Pat didn’t see the need for his own—he didn’t envision himself using a desk very regularly, and if he did he could kick Pran off his own and hog it for a bit. But Pran insisted, so now they were here at IKEA to get a desk for him, because Pran liked the simplicity and the price and getting to build the furniture on his own. (So, admittedly, did Pat.)
The showroom opens with the living room furniture, of course—”Should we get a new couch?” Pran asked, as Pat flopped into a nice sectional to see how it felt.
“No,” said Pat. “We already have one, and if we get another, then both Wai and Korn are going to try to sleep over at the same time.”
Pran laughed. “That’s true,” he said. They had an armchair, too, but Wai was particular about being able to lie completely horizontal when sleeping, and Korn always called dibs on the couch first when an impending sleepover was happening, because he wanted to mess with Wai anyway, as he’d told Pat. Wai didn’t live too far away anyway, so he’d just grumble and flip off Korn and make the five minute walk back home half-sober.
“What about a coffee table?” Pran asked, as they made their way to the next section. “We still have your coffee table from your old dorm.”
“Babe, we don’t need new furniture.” Pat wrapped himself around Pran and perched his chin on Pran’s shoulder, making him giggle. “We’re only here for my desk, remember?”
“Fine, fine,” Pran said, and shoved Pat off. Pat stumbled, but took Pran’s hand, and Pran didn’t push him away from that. “Are you sure we don’t need a new TV stand though?”
Pat rolled his eyes and dragged his fiancé off.
They made their way through the kitchen section (Pat had to remind Pran that he spent a good four hours organizing their kitchen when they first moved in that they didn’t need new organizers) and the bathroom section (when Pran suggested that they remodel their bathroom, Pat reminded Pran that he was saving up for a new computer so it wouldn’t fit in their budget) and the bedroom section (where they both pretended not to linger too long or stare wistfully at the children’s bedrooms—the most they’d talked about having children together was dirty talk during sex) before they made it to the office section. There were more than enough desks to choose from, but Pat knew that Pran hated picking out stuff aesthetically for Pat all the time when Pat cared a lot more about function, so he took his time with the desks, inspecting them for more than just practical approval.
He found a black wooden desk with a keyboard slot and shelves at the top, and could already see his pictures and trinkets of him and Pran lining them. “I like this one,” he told Pran.
Pran eyed it. “I like it too,” he said after a moment.
Pat scoffed. “Of course you do, because I like it.”
Pran ignored him, and instead put his hand on the desk, rocking it slightly. “Do you think it’s sturdy?” he asked. He checked the tag. “Well, it’s a gaming desk.”
“If it’s not sturdy then we can return it,” Pat said. “And if it is, then you won’t hear from me and Wai this weekend.”
“I will end both of your League of Legends addictions,” Pran said, so lightly that it didn’t sound like a threat at all. Pat knew better, though.
“Oh, are you jealous that your best friend has become my League husband?”
“Call anyone else your husband again,” Pran said sweetly, “and I’ll kill both of you.”
They bought the desk and got smoothies on their way home.
*
They were supposed to be assembling the FREDDE, but then Pran made another comment about its sturdiness and Pat said, “Why don’t we test it?” since they’d only had the shelves left to put together, and then Pran’s eyes flashed and now his mouth was working on Pat’s neck as Pat closed his eyes and shuddered.
“You know,” Pat said, as Pran’s hands worked under his shirt and teased the top of his jeans, stroking his stomach. “I could probably put this desk together faster by myself.”
Pran pulled his head back, big brown eyes glittering with mischief. “But the instructions say you should do it with a friend,” he said, and trailed his fingers through Pat’s pubic hair. Pat struggled not to buck against him. “I’m just helping, aren’t I?”
“Oh yes, I need help from my big strong boyfriend who made me put all the boxes in the car and take them out by myself,” Pat said sarcastically. Pran laughed against his skin. “What would I do without him?”
“You want me,” Pran said smugly, and his fingers snuck lower and lower down Pat’s jeans. Pat could only look at him and think, Yeah, I do. “Now tell me where you want me.”
Pat grinned back. He shoved Pran down to his knees.
“Right there,” he said, and Pran obeyed.