Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was 2am and you were trying to sleep. Key word being trying , because a few doors down, your gracious host was yelling at some game he was playing. After a solid half hour of trying, you sat up in your bed and picked up your phone.

Sighing, you tried to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Sure, Schlatt was an asshole, and you couldn’t help but argue with him every time you were near each other. Something about your personalities just grated against each other in the worst way. But you knew somewhere, far, far under there was a decent person. After all, he’d opened his house up to you and Ted for two entire weeks.

So you figured he must be streaming. Maybe he just wasn’t used to other people in his house, who were trying to have a semi-normal sleep schedule. You opened up Twitch and looked for his channel. He hadn’t been online in a while. Could he be recording a video? You understood that it was his job, but he had plenty of time during the day to film. You and Ted had only arrived three days ago, and you were sure there’d be many opportunities to record tomorrow.

You were too tired for this. You grumbled, put your phone down, and tried to block out the noise with your pillow.

That plan lasted another ten minutes, your frustration slowly growing. At a particularly loud yell, you flung your sheets off of yourself and stormed down the hall.

His door was open. Seriously?

You peeked in and saw Schlatt at his desk, playing some game you probably recognized but couldn’t give less of a shit about right now. 

“Schlatt!” you tried to whisper-yell so you wouldn’t wake Ted.

He jumped in his seat and whirled around, startled out of his game and dying instantly in it.

“Jeez! What the fuck!”

“What the fuck yourself! It’s nearly three in the morning, and I can’t sleep because of all your shouting!”

“So fucking text me or something, don’t interrupt my recording,” he said, turning back around and picking up his headset.

You were about to slam the door shut, just out of spite, and leave, when you heard him mutter something under his breath. “Bitch.”

“What did you just say?” you asked, slamming the door back open and stepping into his room.

He turned around and stood up to face you.

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, coming from you, Schlatt.”

“What? What’s rich?” he asked, hands out in mock questioning. “The fact that you’re barging into my room in my house? The fact that you’re so ungrateful I gave you a room to stay in even though you’re always being an ass to me?” He stepped closer with every question. 

“Or is it the fact that you can never keep your stupid goddamn mouth shut? The fact that you’re a nuisance, all the time? You’re fucking annoying, that’s what you are. I don’t understand how anybody likes you,” he finished, now close enough to jab a finger at you.

Instead of a response, you slapped him across the face. Hard. You didn’t even mean to do that, your arm just moved on reflex.

Schlatt stared at you, eyes wide in disbelief, hand on the red spot forming on his cheek. You instantly regretted it. Sure, the two of you didn’t quite get along, you were constantly bickering, and he pissed you off. But that didn’t mean you should hit him. 

“The fuck you just do to me, bitch?”

You were still angry at him, but you knew you’d taken it a step too far. You opened your mouth to apologize. “Schlatt, I--”

“Oh what, you’re sowwy? You’re sorry you fucking bitch-slapped me like the bitch you are? You can’t even fucking hit me that hard, you know. That barely stung. Fucking pathetic.”

You slapped him across the other cheek, even harder.

Schlatt’s knees betrayed him and he sat down forcefully on his bed, hands clutching the side of his face. He let out a whimper and his eyes started watering. You felt no remorse this time. He fucking deserved it after all the bullshit he spouted just to rile you up. Well, now you were properly riled.

“That better?” you sneered. “That a fucking better hit?”

He didn’t reply, still bent over and covering his face.

“God, I didn’t know a person could have such audacity. You piss me off enough to actually slap you, and then you insult me more? If I didn’t know how much of an incessant asshole you always were, I’d say you wanted me to hit you. Wanted me to fucking put you in your goddamn place for once in your goddamn life.”

Still no response.

“Nothing to say now, huh, Schlatt. I finally got Jschlatt himself to shut the fuck up,” you announced to the world, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

He looked up at you this time. But his eyes didn’t have the fiery anger that you were expecting. 

“What.” 

“Fuck you,” he finally said, and turned away from you.

You grabbed his shoulder.

“No, Schlatt. What. Say it.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t understand.

“What the fuck is it? You swearing at me under your breath again? You apologizing for all the shit you said? You trying to piss me off again? Whatever it is, say it to my fucking face, you pussy.”

You were practically yelling again, and that got him to whirl back around.

“It’s none of your fucking business, bitch! Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Oh, I have to leave you alone now. You never fucking leave me alone. You kept pushing me to my fucking limits and now that I finally snapped you want me to leave you alone? That’s not gonna happen now, bitch. Fuck you.”

“I’m fucking serious, asshole. Get the fuck out of my room. Now .”

“Wow, so demanding, are we? What are you gonna do about it? What if I don’t leave? What if I--” You brought your hand up as if to slap him again, and he flinched. Something was off about his reaction, though. There was something in his eyes.

“Not funny. Leave.”

“Why should I?” You could hear the seriousness in his voice, laced with that something too. You knew you were just being an asshole now, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You couldn’t help but push his buttons when he was acting so strangely.

“It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Not my business? What’s not my business? That Jschlatt is a fucking pussy? That he can’t take a hit?” You leaned in, getting right in his face. “What are you gonna do when I leave? Cry about it? You gonna cry about getting hit, you big baby?”

You could hear his breath from this close. It was fast, and heavy. “Get-” Schlatt began, voice wavering. He drew a breath. “Get away from me.”

The quiet, almost scared tone made you pause. Your face dropped for a moment. This really was too far. To make Schlatt speak like that… you’d never heard him speak like that before. You felt like an asshole. The two of you had always argued, pissed each other off to no end, but this was different. Something was really wrong.

You leaned away from him and took a breath. You sat down on the bed next to him, leaving space between you. Silence hung heavy in the room for a moment.

You still couldn’t bear to look at him, but you softly said, “Schlatt, I-- I’m sorry. I know we always fight, but I shouldn’t have made it physical. I shouldn’t have escalated it to that, I crossed a line there. And to make it worse, I kept pushing you, even when you were clearly really uncomfortable. I knew something was wrong but I-- I don’t want to make excuses for my behavior, but I guess I wanted to… push your buttons, to find out what was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. You kept telling me to stop, but I didn’t listen. I guess I must’ve done something really wrong, to make you do that. And I didn’t listen to you. In fact I shouldn’t still be here, you told me to leave. I just wanted to apologize, but I’m still not listening to you. I’m sorry.”

You moved to stand up, when you heard Schlatt say something.

“What?” you asked.

“I said, ‘no.’”

You stared at him. He wasn’t looking at you.

“No, don’t-- don’t leave. You-- I appreciate your apology. And I was being an asshole. I fully deserved that slap. We argue all the time and it just-- today I was really being shitty. I’m sorry.”

“Schlatt, I--”

“Let me finish. I was being shitty, and you slapped me, and it was justified. You shouldn’t have kept pushing beyond that when I told you to stop, you’re right. But it wasn’t-- you didn’t do anything that terrible. It wasn’t your fault I reacted that way.”

“Schlatt, I don’t know why you did, but it’s not your fault either. We tend to-- I think we can both agree we often don’t have the healthiest interactions. And if me taking it a step further reminded you of something, or triggered some--”

“No!” He turned to you now. “No, that’s not it. You didn’t set off a-- a trauma response or anything. It’s not that-- don’t beat yourself up over that, it’s not what that was.”

“Then what was it?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

He turned away from you again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.”

“No, it’s fine. I should probably tell you anyway, now that I got you all wrapped up in this bullshit. I just, I haven’t really said it out loud before.”

His face was turning redder by the minute.

“Said it out loud? What are you--”

Suddenly, several things clicked. His odd reaction. His lack of protest or hitting you back. The odd whimper he let out. The look in his eye. It wasn’t one of fear. It was one of embarrassment, and--

“Schlatt. Don’t tell me you liked it when I slapped you.”

His face instantly jumped to the brightest shade of red.

“Oh no, you did. You like being slapped,” you said in disbelief. “You didn’t react that way cause you were scared, you reacted like that cause you were into it .”

He looked over at you, and said in the smallest voice you’d ever heard him use, “Yeah.”

“I-- Wow, I can’t believe--” You drew a breath, and exhaled it slowly. “I mean. There is nothing wrong with that, Schlatt,” you said, looking him in the eyes. “It’s okay to be into that kind of thing.”

“Thanks,” he said softly. “That means a lot. I know that plenty of people have-- that they’re into stuff like that. I guess I just. It doesn’t fit my image, you know? Everyone sees me as this tough guy, this loud, obnoxious asshole. Hell, you see me like that too. It just doesn’t make sense for a guy like that to find being hit-- you know. If people found out, I’d be-- I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. We might not always get along, but this isn’t something I would ever use as-- it’s not something for me to share. Period.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

There was a minute of silence again, this time much less oppressive.

“I’m glad we talked about this,” you said suddenly. “I think we both-- we argue most of the time, but we wouldn’t be around each other so much if we didn’t have some level of-- of respect, dare I even say friendship.”

Schlatt smirked at that. “Yeah. We’re like frenemies.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “I should probably go now. Go to bed maybe, and actually leave you alone.”

“Alright,” he said, almost amicably.

“Good night, frenemy. See you tomorrow.”

As you were walking down the hall to your own room, you swore you could almost hear a reply.

“Good night.”

Chapter Text

The next morning was a tense one. You and Schlatt couldn’t bring yourselves to look each other in the eye after the events of the night before. Having seen that side of him-- not just the revelation about his kink, but the quiet, sincere, vulnerable side of him-- meant you couldn’t look at him the same way as you always did. Even if that way was usually a glare, it made things awkward.

Ted picked up on it quickly. It was hard to ignore how quiet the house was now. The past few days, when you all shambled into the kitchen to eat breakfast and talk about plans for the day, there were at least a few insults thrown around. Now, it was silent.

“What, did you guys fuck?” Ted asked, trying to lighten the mood.

The two of you whipped your heads up from your plates to look at him. “No!” you objected in unison.

Ted smirked, “Oh, you definitely fucked.”

“No the fuck we did not,” Schlatt said.

You glanced at him. What happened between you two was almost more personal than if you’d fucked. The way you were acting did give off that impression, though. You had to laugh.

At first it was a tiny chuckle, but then Schlatt’s eyes met yours and you shared a look. The two of you started laughing in earnest, fully throwing your head back and cackling until you couldn’t breathe.

When the laughter finally died down, Ted looked put-off. “Whatever the fuck you two did, I don’t think I like it if it resulted in that ,” he mumbled, looking between you two.

The next few days went by in a blur. Neither of you acknowledged what had happened that night again. While your relationship had definitely changed, to the point where several other YouTubers noticed, you slowly went back to your bickering ways. If it was a little more playful than genuinely hateful, and if you backed off quicker than you usually did, no one seemed to comment.

You couldn’t deny that seeing him in a new light changed your feelings towards him, you reflected while staring at the ceiling of your guest room three nights after the incident. Sharing such a vulnerable moment let you see past the loud, offensive caricature you’d viewed him as before.

You could see the hardworking businessman, constantly managing so many projects and companies while maintaining his own streaming and filming schedules. He’d even been the mastermind behind a lot of the content you came over to film.

You could see the pet owner, the way he genuinely loved Jambo. He always made sure to give the cat everything he needed, from high quality food to countless vet visits to plenty of attention and playtime. Even having been at the house for less than a week, you could tell he loved Jambo more than anything in the world.

You could see how funny he actually was, now that you allowed yourself to laugh at his jokes. How magnetic his personality was, drawing people in and holding their attention.

More worryingly, you could see the way he studied an email he was proofreading, brow furrowed in concentration as he chewed his lip searching for any errors. The way his hair fell on the back of the couch when he fell asleep on it one day, how his exposed neck looked with his head thrown back and how his chest rose and fell. You could see his eyes sparkle in the moonlight from the window one night as he explained something he was passionate about-- you couldn’t remember what the topic was for the life of you-- to you and Ted. 

What is wrong with me? you asked the ceiling. I can’t be thinking about him like that , you explained to your window. It’s Schlatt, for fuck’s sake. Just because he revealed to you that he’s a masochist doesn’t mean he’s not still the same asshole you knew a week ago.

But the thought brought images of that night unbidden to your mind. Him looking at you in shock after that first slap. The tears in his eyes after the second. You could almost imagine his mouth moving beneath the hand over his face. Please , he might whine. Again , he might beg, tears running down his cheeks.

You had to snap out of this before it got too far, you thought. As you tried to, though, you knew it was already too late. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t new, to be honest. The man was hot. You just tried your best to ignore it. But now your hand was making its way under the covers, down towards your waistband. You were painfully aware of Ted across the hall, probably sleeping, or, knowing him, doing some late-night editing. 

And a few doors down was Schlatt himself. What would he do, if he saw you right now? Would he look away in disgust? Or would your hand be a little higher up, pulling his hair while his mouth did the job you were trying to do yourself?

The thought of your hand tangling his soft locks as he tasted you on his tongue finally pushed you over the edge.

After the feeling was gone, you were left with a sense of dread. You were really in it now. What the fuck were you going to do?

The morning after your… revelation, you padded out to the kitchen as usual, with sleep-mussed hair and a rumpled t-shirt. The smell of frying bacon reminded you that Schlatt had volunteered to make you and Ted breakfast, since you’d helped him edit videos the night before. Ted was still asleep, it seemed, as only Schlatt and Jambo were in the kitchen.

Speaking of the cat, he was standing on the kitchen island, and Schlatt was trying to yell at him to get off without burning the food. You walked over and picked Jambo up, placing him back down on the ground. 

“Thanks,” Schlatt said. “He got up there as soon as he knew I couldn’t step away from the stove.”

“No problem,” you responded as you sat on the stool at the island. You tried not to think of the domesticity of helping Schlatt take care of his cat as he cooked you breakfast. It’s mostly Ted’s breakfast, you reminded yourself. He did most of the work.

You watched Schlatt's back as he cooked the bacon, taking in his sleep-ruffled hair that he hadn't yet brushed out. It reminded you of what you did last night… you wished you could walk over and wind your hand in his hair for real. You imagined doing just that, yanking his head back as he yelped in shock, dropping his spatula. Maybe he'd whimper again like he did the other night, turn to you and lean in for a hungry—

"Man, I'm hungry. Is that bacon? Fuck yeah!"

It was Ted, finally coming out of his room. Maybe that was for the best, you realized with a blush. It was far too early the kinds of thoughts you were having, especially in the middle of the kitchen. Though, the kitchen wasn't the worst place to— no, you scolded your wandering mind, stop it.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice Schlatt had finished making breakfast until a plate of bacon and eggs entered your field of view. You looked up at the man holding it and tried to suppress all your thoughts on how he looked like this, still slightly hazy from sleep before his coffee, the calm morning softening him.

"Thanks," you managed to say without betraying the fact that you were just thinking about this man in a very non-platonic way.

The rest of the day went much the same for you when the three of you joined the rest of Lunch Club for filming. You tried your very best to ignore any and all feelings that came up when Schlatt argued with you in a video, both of you so caught up in the bit the rest of the group faded away; when the group paired up and the two of you were partnered, for content's sake of course; when you were forced into close proximity with him, when you so much as made eye contact, when he showed off for the camera.

Needless to say, by the end of filming, you were beat. Being "on" in front of a camera was always an effort, but the extra facade you had to keep up when you were anywhere near Schlatt tired you out way more than usual.

When the group decided to all head to Schlatt's for a drink, you didn't have much choice but to go with them. On the way back, you figured it might do you good to forget about this whole debacle and let loose a bit after all the stress the day had brought you.

Schlatt wasted no time in pouring out glasses of whiskey for the group. When you accepted the glass he handed you, your hand brushed his for a moment and you tried not to freeze up. Relax , you reminded yourself. 

Between the seven of you, the entire bottle was drained within a few hours. You were all extremely drunk now, except Schlatt, who, despite drinking just as much as everyone else, was the closest to sober of the group.

Schlatt had decided it was his duty as a host to let everyone stay over, since you were all far too drunk to get home on your own.

When he left to get blankets, the conversation died down. You flicked the empty bottle on the ground, and it spun about to face you again. 

"We should play Spin The Bottle!" someone suggested with a laugh.

"That is gay as fuck," you said, regarding the group of— as far as you knew— straight men in front of you.

"Yeah, that's what makes it funny! We're drunk!"

"Not all of us," Schlatt said, coming back in. "Some of us can hold our liquor."

"You gotta play spin the bottle too!" Noah chimed in. "It's only fair."

"Ew, gross," Schlatt protested, though you could all tell it was fake. "What am I, gay?"

"Well, according to some of your videos…"

"We don't talk about those," Schlatt shut down in mock anger.

"Okay, okay, let's just play now! I've already psyched myself up to do this." 

"And! Since we're playing by sleepover rules, whoever falls asleep gets pictures of them kissing posted on Twitter!" Travis suggested, making everyone laugh uproariously. 

"Jesus Christ, you are all a bunch of children," Schlatt complained.

"But does anyone object?" Ted said, looking around. After a few seconds, no one spoke up. "Great! We'll spin to see who goes first," he said, leaning in to spin the empty bottle.

You woke up with the worst headache you'd had in a long time and fuzzy memories of the night before. Trying to piece them together, you could only get a few blurry scenes— drinking with the Lunch Club, several glasses of whiskey, kissing Schlatt, helping Cooper to the bathroom— wait. Kissing Schlatt? When did that happen?

Your mind was still foggy, but that memory had you sitting bolt upright in your bed. There was no way— but if that happened, what else did? Did you make out? Did you go back to his room? Did you finally— no, that can't be possible.

Now that you were awake, though, you decided you may as well get up and get ready for the day. You puzzled over the memory as you brushed your teeth. You had to know what happened. You wouldn't be able to ignore this… thing you had for Schlatt anymore.

But Schlatt, while certainly drunk, had been slightly less so, right? You remembered him teasing everyone else for being lightweights… or something like that. Either way, his memories had to be more cohesive.

Before you could think yourself out of it, you marched up to Schlatt's door and knocked on it. A second later he opened it, clearly still bleary-eyed from sleep.

"Schlatt," you said urgently. You had enough awareness to realize you were about to have a very private conversation in a house very full of other people, so you invited yourself into his room.

He let you push him aside with some kind of confused noise. He might not be awake enough for this conversation, but you needed answers for your own sanity.

Shutting the door behind you, you repeated yourself. "Schlatt. Did we kiss last night?"

"What?"

"I said, did we kiss last night?"

Schlatt didn't say anything for a minute. Then, he looked you in the eye and said, "What if we did?"

"What? I'm asking you a question, Schlatt. Did we?"

"What would you do if we did? What would you think of it?"

You thought, at first, that this was just another way of pissing you off. Even since that night, the two of you were prone to arguments and pushing each other's buttons. But the look in his eye reminded you of that night— the vulnerability he'd shown you for a brief moment.

"Well… I… think I remember us kissing. And I think I remember enjoying it."

"Good," Schlatt said slowly, carefully. "Because I remember the same thing. Kissing you… and enjoying it."

The two of you stood there for a few long seconds, looking each other in the eyes, searching them for meaning.

"Follow-up question," you said. "What would you think if we did it again?"

Schlatt only stared at you. Then, in lieu of answer, he cupped your cheek and leaned in, just slow enough for you to pull back if you wanted to.

You didn't want to, though. You met him halfway, connecting your lips hungrily. The kiss was close-mouthed at first, but soon one of you, you couldn't say who, opened their mouth and the kiss deepened. 

It was a forceful kiss. Tongues slipping into each other's mouths, hands pulling on the backs of necks, you made out for what could've been seconds, could've been minutes. Schlatt's back hit the door with a soft bump as you pressed into him, closing the gap between you and then closing it further, your legs between his and your arms on him. 

One hand still cupped the back of his head, but the other moved up and down his arm, across his back and sides, exploring the field of his body and getting caught in his shirt. His own hands were doing the same, one on your neck and the other roaming your pajamas. His hand ran up your thigh— you hadn't even felt yourself bringing one knee up to lean against the door— and you shivered. He did it again, fingertips barely brushing your leg, then whole palm on your thigh, trying to figure out what made you tick, what made you shiver the most. 

That reminded you of the thought you'd had several times the past few days, and you moved the hand on his neck to grab his hair tightly. Schlatt made a muffled noise of surprise, gripping your thigh for a moment. You tugged, just a little bit, and he all but growled, now determined to devour your mouth whole. You chuckled into the kiss, and in response he grabbed your leg to hold it up.

He broke the kiss, and you were disappointed at first, though you knew you had to break for air eventually. He kept his face close to you though, so that you felt his breath wash over your face when he said, "Do that again and it won't just be a kiss."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

"Find out," Schlatt dared, and kissed you again.