It started with rain.
Not just a drizzle, but one of those aggressive, sideways storms that felt personal, like the sky itself had a grudge. By the time Taylor showed up at Jamie's door, they were dripping wet, hoodie plastered to their skin, sneakers squeaking with every step.
Jamie blinked. "You look like a drowned raccoon."
Taylor grinned, water dripping from the tip of their nose. "Flattering as always."
"You're soaking my floor." Jamie grabbed a towel from the hall closet and shoved it at them.
Taylor ignored the towel in favor of shaking their head like a dog, spraying droplets everywhere.
Jamie squealed. "Stop! You're disgusting!"
"You love it," Taylor said smugly, rubbing the towel over their hair with absolutely no urgency. "Besides, I couldn't exactly walk home in this. You want me to drown in a puddle?"
Jamie crossed their arms. "I want you to invest in an umbrella like a normal human."
Taylor's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Then I wouldn't have an excuse to crash here."
Jamie's heart tripped. "You….you're not crashing here."
"Sure I am." Taylor peeled off their hoodie, revealing a damp T-shirt clinging to their chest in ways Jamie's eyes refused not to notice. "Unless you're kicking me back into the storm."
Jamie opened their mouth to argue, then closed it again. Kicking Taylor out was unthinkable. Which left one very inconvenient reality: Taylor was staying over.
---
By the time Taylor had showered and borrowed an old T-shirt from Jamie's drawer, the storm showed no sign of letting up. Thunder rattled the windows, lightning flashed, and Jamie cursed whatever weather gods had conspired to put them in this situation.
Taylor sprawled on the couch, toweling their hair dry, looking maddeningly at home. "You know what's funny?"
"Nothing about this is funny," Jamie muttered.
Taylor ignored them. "Most people our age would probably make this exact situation into a rom-com scene. Hot best friend stuck in a storm, forced to spend the night, sexual tension through the roof…"
Jamie's face went nuclear. "We are not in a rom-com."
Taylor smirked, tossing the towel aside. "Keep telling yourself that."
---
Later, when it was time for bed, Jamie dragged a spare blanket and pillow out of the closet.
"You get the couch," Jamie said firmly.
"Aw, come on," Taylor whined. "Your bed's big enough for two."
Jamie nearly dropped the pillow. "Absolutely not."
Taylor leaned back on the couch, grinning like they'd already won. "Scared you'll accidentally cuddle me?"
Jamie sputtered. "Scared you'll snore in my face, actually."
"Sure, sure." Taylor winked. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
---
Sometime after midnight, Jamie woke to the sound of thunder and the sight of a shadow at their bedroom door.
"Jamie?" Taylor whispered.
Jamie groaned, rolling over. "What?"
"Your couch sucks."
"Good."
Taylor shuffled closer, a blanket draped around their shoulders like a cape. "Also, I think your apartment is haunted. Something creaked in the kitchen."
Jamie sat up, hair sticking in all directions. "It's called the fridge, Taylor. Fridges make noise."
Taylor ignored the explanation, climbing onto the edge of the bed. "Just let me crash here. I promise I won't hog the covers."
Jamie froze, heart hammering. Taylor looked ridiculous—blanket cape, messy hair, eyes wide and earnest like a kid afraid of monsters.
Against every shred of common sense, Jamie sighed. "Fine. But stay on your side."
"Scout's honor." Taylor slid under the covers with zero hesitation, warmth radiating immediately.
Jamie turned rigidly onto their side, putting an imaginary wall between them. This is fine, they told themselves. Totally fine.
Except Taylor's knee brushed Jamie's under the blanket.
And Taylor didn't move it.
---
Minutes stretched. The storm outside roared. Inside, Jamie was acutely aware of every breath Taylor took.
"You're tense," Taylor murmured in the dark.
Jamie's throat went dry. "I'm trying to sleep."
Taylor shifted closer, their voice low and teasing. "Want me to rub your shoulders? Loosen you up a little?"
Jamie nearly shot upright. "No!"
Taylor chuckled softly. "Relax, I'm kidding. …Mostly."
Jamie buried their face in the pillow, muffling an incoherent groan.
It was going to be the longest night of their life.
---
In the morning, Jamie woke to find Taylor sprawled across half the bed, blanket tangled around their legs, one arm slung lazily over Jamie's waist.
Jamie froze. Don't move. Don't breathe.
Taylor's breath was warm against the back of their neck. Their hands twitched in sleep, fingers brushing lightly against Jamie's stomach.
Jamie's pulse skyrocketed. Every nerve screamed at them to wriggle free, to shove Taylor back onto their own side. But another part—traitorous, reckless—whispered: Stay still. Just for a minute.
Just long enough to pretend this wasn't an accident.
Just long enough to feel what it might be like if the pact had never existed.