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It’s still early when Alyssa leaves. Holden had planned his proposition for early in the evening. He’d thought maybe, if she and Banky were both game, it could happen that very night…
And now it’s 8 PM and Holden is sitting on the couch, staring into space and thinking about how he’s somehow managed to ruin the two most important relationships in his life.
He’d been so sure that it made sense.
Eventually, he rouses himself enough to turn on the TV. He watches it without really watching it, thoughts tumbling around in his head. Part of him is still hoping Alyssa will call or come back, even though he knows she won’t.
But Banky has to come out of his room eventually, doesn’t he?
Apparently not. At 11, Holden shuts off the TV and goes into his room, undresses mechanically, and gets into bed.
He expects to toss and turn all night, but instead he falls almost immediately into a miserable, fitful doze, full of bad thoughts and bad dreams.
Sometime later, his bedroom door opens.
“Alyssa?” he asks automatically. He’s still half-asleep and only remembers that she’s mad at him. He thinks she’s come to make up. Reality crashes back in a second later.
The figure in the doorway freezes. “No.” Banky’s voice, low and pointed. He turns. “I should go.”
“Wait,” Holden says desperately, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Don’t leave.”
Banky pauses for a long moment. Holden waits with bated breath, hoping against hope that Banky won’t desert him. Finally, Banky closes the door and pads across the room.
He sits on the side of the bed and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s not as far away from Holden as he could be, but he’s not exactly close.
“Were you sleeping?” Banky asks in a dull voice.
“Sort of,” Holden says. Banky doesn’t say anything, and Holden hastens to clarify. “Not well. I think I’d rather be awake than facing whatever my subconscious wants to throw at me.”
“I can’t sleep,” Banky says.
Silence falls. Holden tries to think of what to say. He’s about to suggest they eschew sleep in favor of playing a video game – it would feel nice, and normal, just to play a game with his best friend – when Banky speaks again.
“Does your offer still stand?”
Holden’s pulse speeds up like a racecar and he can feel a flush suffusing his face. He starts speaking too quickly, afraid to let that question hang in the air. “Well,” he says, trying to think and failing completely. “I – I – I guess I hadn’t thought about it without Alyssa.”
Banky, who had already been folded in on himself, seems to droop further. He puts his face in his hands for a second, then runs them through his hair and straightens.
“Right,” he says grimly. He starts to get to his feet. Holden’s hand shoots out automatically and he grabs Banky’s elbow.
“Wait,” he says, frantic now at the thought that he might lose his one chance to make this right. Maybe this could be okay, if he figures out what he should do. “I didn’t say no, I said I hadn’t thought about it. Would you – would you – just give me a second, would you?”
Silently, Banky sinks back down onto the bed.
Holden tries to work this out. He’s not averse to the idea – of course he’s not, or he wouldn’t have suggested the threesome in the first place. But it would have been different with Alyssa there. She would have been a buffer. With just him and Banky, it’s considerably more…intimate. The thought twists Holden’s insides, fear and desire both. Him and Banky. It’s been him and Banky for so long – but Holden knows they probably can’t go on the same way.
Banky’s shoulders are hunched, his head low. Holden stares at him in the dim light. It’s too dark to see his friend’s face, but vulnerability is written in every line of his body. It makes Holden’s heart ache for him.
He’s forgotten he’s still gripping Banky’s elbow until Banky suddenly raises his opposite hand and rests his fingers on Holden’s. Banky doesn’t look at him, and his touch is light as a feather.
Holden swallows, his decision made in an instant. He’s never seen Banky this way and he doesn’t even want to think about what it could do to him to be rejected right now. He can give Banky something.
“The offer stands,” Holden says finally, trying to keep his voice steady. “I mean – after we, uh…after it’s over. I don’t know if I can do more. But – ”
“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Banky asks. “I know that.” There’s anger in his voice, but it’s a bit of a relief to hear. He sounds more like the Banky Holden’s used to. Banky angry in the way he’s always angry.
“Okay,” Holden says quickly. “Okay. I just didn’t want you to go in thinking one thing when I can’t guarantee – ”
“If you say the words ‘lead you on’ I will fucking murder you,” Banky snaps. His neck whips around and he looks at Holden for the first time. “Wait a minute.” His tone has become low and dangerous. “Is this a pity fuck?”
“No!” Holden protests.
“Because I swear – ”
“It’s not! It’s not!” Holden’s practically begging. He has to make Banky understand and he can’t lose him, not now. Urgent instinct takes over; Holden leans forward, and for the second time that night he’s kissing his best friend.
There’s that frozen second of shock again from Banky, but then his hands fist in Holden’s t-shirt and his lips move and he exhales slowly.
Part of Holden thinks weird, wrong because this is Banky, for fuck’s sake. But at the same time…It’s just Banky. The strangeness of it makes Holden want to keep going, not stop; he’s curious and eager to learn more about the person he knows better than anyone.
Banky’s lips are soft and mobile. The feeling of his beard against Holden’s face is a little distracting, but not unpleasant. Holden keeps this slow, afraid to push his friend, but as the minutes go by the kiss deepens like it has a mind of its own. When Banky’s mouth falls open, Holden automatically slides his tongue inside.
Banky’s been resolutely silent, but at this he moans aloud and Holden’s cock jumps at the sound, suddenly going from cautiously interested to half-hard. But Banky pulls back abruptly, turning his head away and releasing his hold on Holden’s shirt.
He’s embarrassed; Holden would bet his life on it. So, he doesn’t let go. He leans his forehead on Banky’s temple and murmurs “Jesus, Banky,” breathily into Banky’s ear, trying to convey with his tone how much he’d liked that noise, because he doesn’t know how to find the words right now and doesn’t know if Banky would be okay with hearing them if he could.
“Fuck,” Banky mutters, in that emphatic way he says practically everything. He kisses Holden again, harder, and Holden feels a surge of triumph. He’d understood. Of course he’d understood; even Alyssa didn’t understand Holden as well as Banky did. She hadn’t known him long enough.
The thought of Alyssa is painful, and it feels out of place in this moment; unwelcome and disloyal. Holden shoves it away and let his fingers play about the hem of Banky’s t-shirt, dipping tips under it to brush the skin and listening to Banky’s breath catch. It’s fascinating. He still can’t quite grasp that this is happening, but he doesn’t want it to stop. He wants Banky to know he doesn’t want it to stop, and probably he’s worrying too much about that, about proving it, but he’s still horribly afraid of hurting his best friend and he’s always been prone to overthinking.
When he starts to gently tug up Banky’s shirt, Banky pulls away again. For a heart-stopping moment Holden’s afraid he’s gone too far or too fast, but Banky’s just working the shirt up over his head. Relief floods Holden and he takes the opportunity to strip his own shirt off.
Banky’s crawled up onto the bed now. He rests his hand over Holden’s heart; another of those feather-light touches, barely more than fingertips, but it’s still a new level of intimacy. Holden wonders if Banky can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Banky kisses him and it seems unsure again. Holden realizes the hand on his chest is shaking.
He feels a swell of protectiveness; not new when it comes to Banky, who is all sharp edges because inside he’s far more sensitive than he’d ever admit. Holden’s spent years trying to be a buffer between the world and Banky, between Banky and the world. But the protective feeling is nudging him in a whole new direction now. Holden lets it lead him.
He cradles Banky’s face as they kiss and guides him down until they’re both lying on their sides, heads on Holden’s pillow. Holden rests the fingers of one hand on Banky’s neck – feels the pulse jumping there – and slides the other around Banky’s waist. He exerts only the barest hint of pressure; lets Banky come to him, which he does, until their chests are flush. Banky relaxes by degrees and Holden feels slightly dizzy when he realizes that Banky’s melting against him.
Automatically, he tightens his hold, pulls Banky a little closer. He feels that protectiveness, again – still – he realizes how small Banky is. He’s not much shorter than Holden, but he’s slight, and there’s a fragility to him right now that probably has little to do with his size.
(Holden remembers Hooper a couple years ago, confidently declaring Banky an otter – slang for a slim, hirsute gay man – and Holden holding Banky back while Banky screamed denials in Hooper’s face and Hooper calmly sipped his drink. Holden had thought at the time that Hooper was pretty dead-on, but he’d had no idea how accurate it was.)
Another small sound escapes Banky when Holden pulls him in and his hips roll forward. Holden can’t suppress a moan when Banky presses against him; doesn’t want to; he wants Banky to know what he’s feeling. They’re both hard and Holden’s so worked up he has to force himself not to grind against Banky’s thigh. It’s been years since he made out for this long without going any further.
Banky’s clutching his back. Moving slowly, Banky presses a kiss to Holden’s shoulder that Holden feels through his whole body like it’s reverberating. He can’t stop thinking about how careful he needs to be. It’s sort of like his college girlfriend; he’d taken her virginity and he remembers how nervous she was. Excited – she wanted it, been ready, he’d made sure of it – but nervous. Even trembling a little. Just like Banky. Only this seems like even more of a responsibility. This is Banky’s identity at stake, it feels like. At least his ex-girlfriend had been with guys and knew she liked them.
Focus, Holden reminds himself. He slides his hand over Banky’s hip and lets his fingers brush the bulge in Banky’s boxer shorts before pressing his palm to it. Banky bucks against him; gasps in a breath and clutches Holden tighter, burying his face in Holden’s neck. Holden stills, worried again about too much and too fast.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
He’s expecting a biting response, but Banky only says, “Yeah,” in a strained voice that sounds anything but fine.
Holden’s about to speak again – to say what, he isn’t really sure – but Banky isn’t done.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice is muffled and so quiet Holden almost can’t hear him. Holden represses a nervous gulp, because he is sure, he’s just also terrified of fucking up, and he doesn’t want Banky to mistake that for a lack of desire.
“I’m sure,” Holden manages to reply. “Can’t you tell?” Banky doesn’t say anything. After a moment, starting to get desperate, Holden grabs Banky’s hand and presses it against his own erection.
“See?” Holden continues breathlessly, the heat of Banky’s palm making him squirm. He buries his nose in Banky’s hair. “I want to,” he says. “I want to.”
Banky doesn’t reply, but he exhales in a rush and moves his hand slowly, rubbing Holden’s cock through his boxers. The friction makes Holden moan and he remembers he’s supposed to giving as good as he’s getting.
Or better. Even though he’s still nervous for a number of reasons, Holden wants more. There’s something irresistible about Banky’s vulnerability. He tries to slide his hand under Banky’s waistband, but Banky abruptly rolls away. In the dim light Holden can see him shimmying out of his boxers. Holden hastens to follow suit.
When they’re naked and facing each other again, there’s a moment of hesitation. Holden moves quickly to kiss Banky again, eager to re-establish their connection. He smooths his hands over Banky’s skin and waits till he feels his friend relax before curling his fingers around Banky’s cock.
Banky makes a broken, needy sound and then goes stiff again, breaking the kiss. Holden almost stops but decides against it. With his free arm he pulls Banky’s upper body against him, presses kisses to his neck, and works Banky’s cock with slow, steady strokes. He’s pretty sure Banky’s just embarrassed about the noise he’d made and needed a second to get used to the situation.
So does Holden, really. Banky’s erection is hot and heavy in his hand and the sound of sliding flesh is obscene and ridiculously hot. All Holden can think of to do is the kind of warm-up tempo he himself liked to use early on in masturbatory sessions. He’s having trouble not thinking about the fact that this is his best friend’s dick in his palm, but it’s less that it’s weird and more that he’s laser-focused on Banky’s reactions, listening to his breathing and feeling the tension in his body.
The tension, thankfully, starts to ease. Banky lets his head rest on Holden’s shoulder and a second later, his hand wraps around Holden’s cock.
Holden breathes in a gasp and breathes out a moan. He’s aching and the contact is a relief. He moans again when Banky tightens his grip and gives a few experimental tugs, his own hand stuttering in its rhythm.
“Fuck,” Banky whispers, with feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
They continue that way for long minutes, hands on each other, kissing occasionally. When they do, Holden swears it feels charged, electric. He’s torn between wanting to concentrate on his own pleasure and wanting to do the best job he possibly can for Banky, and he finally decides this is no way to go about this.
“Hang on,” he says, catching Banky’s wrist. Banky stops dead.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s trying to sound casual, but Holden knows him too well.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says quickly. “I just – stop for now, okay, because I think you should get to pay attention and enjoy this.”
Banky’s silent for a moment. “You want me to stop?” he asks.
“Just for now,” Holden says. “Just – please? Please let me do this.”
After a beat, Banky releases him. Holden leans in and kisses him hard. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on Banky’s and strokes him again, starting to speed up his hand.
“I just really want you to get to enjoy this,” he says, because he’s still afraid Banky’s going to misunderstand.
Banky doesn’t immediately reply, but he’s breathing hard and he’s grabbed the back of Holden’s neck.
“This is – gonna be – really embarrassing for me,” he gasps out, hips pistoning. Holden’s eyes widen as he realizes that Banky’s close. He squeezes harder and pumps faster. Banky hides his face in Holden’s neck and lets out a groan. Despite his understanding of logic, biology, and cause and effect, Holden kind of can’t believe it when he feels Banky pulse in his hand and the hot, wet spurt of Banky’s release on his stomach.
He wishes he could have seen Banky’s face.
“I can’t believe you did that to me,” Banky says, his tone accusatory.
“Are you kidding?” Holden replies, still stupefied. “That was so fucking hot.” He realizes that Banky went totally still after he came. Holden tries to gather him in both arms. Banky pushes at his chest, pulling away to scrutinize Holden’s expression, which can’t be easy in the dimness of the room.
“Fuck you,” Banky snaps, but there’s an uncertain edge to the words.
“I mean it,” Holden insists. He’s relieved when Banky stops trying to push him away and takes the opportunity to draw him in again. This time, he lets himself thrust against Banky’s thigh as he kisses Banky’s shoulder. He’s not sure he could have stopped himself.
Banky swallows so loud Holden can hear it. “Lie back,” he says in a low voice.
Heart pounding, Holden obeys, rolling onto his back. Banky follows, looming over him for a beat and then leaning down to kiss him. Holden kisses him back hard, fisting his hand in Banky’s hair but releasing him when he pulls back.
Banky moves down Holden’s torso, pressing his lips to Holden’s skin again and again, moving slowly and deliberately until Holden feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Banky can’t possibly be doing what Holden thinks he’s doing.
But he is. Holden sucks in a breath when Banky’s tongue touches his cock, licking him from root to tip. He fists his hands in the bedsheets when Banky swirls around the head.
“Jesus,” he moans. “Jesus, fuck, Banky…” Holden’s head is spinning. He really hadn’t expected this. He’d never thought Banky would be able to go this far, this soon.
But here he is, squeezing the base of Holden’s erection with his thumb and forefinger and taking him as far into his mouth as he can. Pre-dawn light is starting to trickle in the window, and Holden can just see Banky’s head moving up and down. The sight makes him groan; Banky’s answer moan leaves him gasping.
It’s not the best blowjob he’s ever gotten; Banky’s a novice and it shows. But Holden’s found that enthusiasm counts for a lot when it comes to oral sex, and Banky’s giving it his all.
Banky raises his head suddenly; the wet pop that accompanies the movement makes Holden’s cock twitch, already missing the stimulation.
“Like CNN and the Weather Channel,” Banky says, eyes boring into Holden’s, “I want constant updates.”
Holden huffs a little laugh. “No notes,” he says, a little surprised at the hoarse, needy sound of his own voice. He can’t even think right now; he’s nothing but a mass of wanting. “Just please don’t stop.”
Banky blinks and nods, taking a shaky breath, and dips his head again.
Holden’s world narrows to the wet heat of Banky’s mouth, the sounds of the sex, and the sight of Banky’s head in his lap, which he can’t seem to stop watching. The slide of Banky’s tongue and the little pleasure noises Banky keeps making are driving Holden crazy. He tries not to move his hips and manages not to thrust like he wants to, but finally he can’t help a short jerk. Banky squeezes Holden’s thigh with his free hand and starts bobbing his head faster.
“Jesus,” Holden gasps, his pleasure intensifying in a rush as he nears the peak. He grips the bedsheets like a lifeline. “Jesus, fuck, Christ – fuck – Banky – ” His orgasm overtakes him and he comes with a shuddering gasp. Banky’s mouth seems to contract around him and Holden’s spent cock twitches when he realizes that Banky’s swallowing.
He wonders how you come back once your best friend’s blown you and swallowed and concludes you probably can’t, or at least they can’t; not and have things the way they were before. He shoves the thought away. Banky’s lain his head on Holden’s thigh, breathing hard. Holden hauls Banky up and kisses him thoroughly, feeling nothing but gratitude. No matter what, this was a gift.
It takes Holden a moment to realize Banky’s hard again and it sends his head spinning. Banky’d really liked doing that, then. Holden reaches out with something akin to wonder, letting his fingers glide along Banky’s erection. Banky twists away, scowling.
“You already did your duty,” he says.
“I could do it again,” Holden replies, almost before thinking about it. But he wants to. He wishes he could return the favor – gift – that Banky’s just given him, but he doesn’t think he’s up to it. Not yet, he thinks, the thought surprising him. He pushes that away, too. It’s not the time.
“And it’s not a duty,” he adds. “I want to. Lie down.”
Slowly, expression still suspicious, Banky obeys. Holden takes in the sight. There’s enough light in the room now to make out Banky’s flushed chest, his eyes that look so big in his face. Holden leans down and presses his lips gently to Banky’s, feels again that sweet, shocking yielding as Banky opens to him. He runs his hand over Banky’s chest and stomach, feeling the flutter of muscles under the skin.
When he touches Banky’s cock, though, Banky hisses and pulls Holden’s hand away. “Too sensitive,” he says. “From before, and plus when I was blowing you I kept grinding into the bed – ” He stops talking abruptly and Holden knows he’s said more than he meant to.
“It’s okay,” Holden says. He grabs the bottle of lube on his night stand and squirts a little into his palm. “Let’s see if this helps.” This time, when he wraps his hand around Banky, Banky lets out a breath and he thrusts into Holden’s fist, eyes fluttering closed.
“Better?” Holden asks, just in case. Banky nods and Holden sets a slow, slow pace. He wants to draw this out; for Banky, but for himself, too. He watches Banky’s face; lips parted, eyes still closed. Holden wishes he could give his friend more.
And then he has either a great or an absolutely terrible idea. He almost dismisses it out of hand, but the second it’s in his head, he can’t stop thinking about it. His hand freezes and Banky’s eyes fly open.
“Banky,” Holden says, in a voice so choked with desire it barely sounds like his own, “do you want me to – uh – ” He can’t decide on the right term. Instead, he holds up his free hand, index and middle fingers extended.
Banky’s eyes go wide. He gapes at Holden, who hastily drops his hand.
“Or, just one finger,” he says quickly. “Or not at all. It’s fine if it’s no, I – I just thought I’d ask.”
It’s still dark enough that he can’t be certain, but Holden thinks maybe Banky’s pupils have dilated. “Sure,” Banky croaks. “Fine.”
Holden stares down at him for a beat, surprised he’s been granted permission. Then he moves quickly, before it can get awkward, or more awkward, anyway. He slides a pillow under Banky’s hips and grabs the bottle of lube again and kneels between Banky’s legs.
Banky’s legs, spread wide for him.
“Have you ever done this?” Holden asks, his hands shaking a little as he squeezes out more lube onto his fingers. As subtly as he can, he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “By yourself, or – ”
“No,” Banky says, his tone automatically defensive. “A chick I hooked up with once offered, but I said it was too…” He trails off and blinks up at Holden. Holden smiles, very slightly.
“Too gay?” he finishes.
“Shut up,” Banky mutters. “The irony is not lost on me.”
“Just tell me if it hurts, or if you want me to slow down or stop,” Holden says. He looks at Banky expectantly until Banky responds with a short nod. Holden lets his slicked fingers slide against Banky’s hole; not penetrating yet, just making sure he’s spreading enough lube around.
Banky breathes in a harshly, mutters “Fuck,” and throws his arm up, half-covering his face. Holden reaches up immediately and knocks it away.
“Cut it out,” he says. “I need to be able to see if I’m hurting you.”
Banky glares at him, then screws his eyes shut.
“Are you sure about this?” Holden asks.
“Yes! Fuck! What do you want, a fucking embossed invitation?” Banky demands. “Just do it already!”
Holden decides it’s best to take him at his word. He circles his fingertip around Banky’s hole again a couple times, then very carefully starts to push in. Banky’s whole body goes rigid and Holden stops moving immediately. Banky opens his eyes.
“I didn’t say stop!” he snaps.
“You tensed up! What was I supposed to think?” Holden protests. “And this isn’t even going to work if you can’t relax.”
“Jesus Christ, who knew this was going to be such a fucking production?!” But Banky takes a deep breath and his body softens on the exhale. Holden goes back to easing his finger in until he can’t go any further. Banky doesn’t tense again or make another sound.
“Is this all right?” Holden asks cautiously. “Is it – good?” He’d done a little assplay on himself, and with Alyssa, and he’d come to like it, but he knows it isn’t for everyone. And he can’t begin to imagine what a psychological minefield this might be for Banky.
“Weird,” Banky says, not opening his eyes. “Not bad weird.”
Experimentally, Holden curls his finger a little, searching for the spot that makes him see stars. Banky’s back arches and his cock jerks, bouncing off his stomach and leaving a wet spot on his skin.
“Ohfuckfuckfuck,” Banky gasps. Encouraged by this reaction, Holden carefully eases his finger almost out and back in a few times, trying to rub against Banky’s prostate each time.
Banky’s eyes are still shut tight, but he’s panting now and pushing back against Holden’s hand like he wants him deeper. “Another,” he says.
Holden fights down the urge to ask if Banky’s sure; if he’s asking, he’s sure. He dribbles more lube onto his middle finger and starts to work it inside.
Banky’s biting his lip and moaning now, and when Holden’s got two fingers inside him, he breathes out slowly and relaxes like it’s a relief. Holden pauses to give him a moment to adjust. He realizes he’s been so fixated on Banky’s reactions that he hasn’t even been thinking about the tight heat around his fingers. He wonders what that would feel like clamped around his cock. What it would be like to see Banky’s back arch as Holden thrust into him.
Holden’s fingers curl involuntarily at the thought and Banky moans again. Holden scissors his fingers gingerly and Banky hisses, but the look on his face is all pleasure.
Quickly, Holden snatches up the lube again and manages to squirt out just a little one-handed, proud of his dexterity. He wraps his re-slicked hand around Banky’s cock. Banky actually whines, hips jerking up into Holden’s hand. Holden starts with low, slow strokes again. Something in him wants to take his time; for Banky’s sake, but maybe just as much because he doesn’t want this to be over.
But eventually, the sounds Banky’s making get more frantic. Holden lets himself pick up the pace, watching in fascination as his fingers disappear into Banky’s body; at Banky’s cock in his hand; at Banky’s face, his expression in shockingly open. His breathing is getting more ragged and he’s thrusting wildly into Holden’s fist, making desperate noises he doesn’t seem interested in suppressing anymore. Maybe he can’t.
Holden can tell Banky’s getting close and he almost loses his rhythm when Banky’s eyes open and Banky stares right at him. Holden recovers just in time and looks back into Banky’s eyes as Banky cries out, spilling over Holden’s fingers. Holden thinks Banky mouths his name, but he isn’t certain.
As Banky comes down, Holden releases him and pulls his fingers out carefully, wiping his hands on the bedsheets as quickly as he can so he can kiss Banky again, hard.
“I hope that was okay,” he says, then curses himself for looking for reassurance when Banky shouldn’t be burdened with that. For a moment, there’s silence.
“It was good,” Banky says. Holden can’t read his tone at all. Banky’s staring up at the ceiling and Holden can’t read his face, either.
Holden slumps down onto a pillow, worried and suddenly exhausted. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says, letting his eyes close for a second.
There’s movement and when he opens his eyes, his heart drops. Banky’s rolled onto his side, his back to Holden.
“I can go back to my room,” Banky says distantly.
Holden swallows down a lump in his throat. He’s got to get this right. Honesty’s the only thing he can offer. “If you want to, that’s okay,” he says slowly. “But I’d rather you stay.” He isn’t sure if it’s the right call, but the last thing he wants right now is to let Banky go off on his own.
Banky goes still and he doesn’t say anything. It’s one of the longest minutes of Holden’s life.
“Then I’ll stay,” Banky finally replies.
Holden exhales in relief. He scoots forward and puts an arm around Banky, pressing his chest to Banky’s back. Banky clutches Holden’s arm to him. Holden listens to Banky’s breathing even out and then starts to fall into a doze, himself.
He isn’t exactly sure what’s going to happen when they wake up, but Holden knows that in this moment, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.