A/N: Okay, I guess there's not much to say about this fic. It's mostly an average, T-rated, pretty short, ChainShipping one-shot. And I know most people have abandoned this pairing, but NOT ME! STAND UP FOR CHAINSHIPPING! (Derails completely)

A/N #2: And a quick warning: This fic involves spoilers from the movie "Titanic", but you don't have to see that one to understand this.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Titanic". And if I owned Saw, I wouldn't write fanfiction. I'd be too busy making a slashy Saw V, where these two live happily ever after!

It's So Easy To Fall In Love

He saved my life.

We went through a dreadful, life-changing experience together.

That's my constant excuse. I know that sometime, we will reach a no-stopping point, a point when we won't be able to deny the fact that we're more than friends, but I pretend not to. I just keep repeating that, over and over again.

He saved my life. He's my best friend.

Aren't best friends supposed to love each other?

That's what I'm telling myself now. When he's sitting here, next to me, on my worn couch, and watches TV with me.

My head is on his chest, I'm almost asleep, his arm is around me.

Needless to say, it's the best moment of my entire life.

I can feel him breathing. He can hear the calm, safe, dull thumping of his heart inside his blue shirt. Our body heat is mixing, and we're so damn… Close. Or something. It feels like we're one single body, and that thought warms me up from the inside.

And I'm thinking that I love him, that I get warm and cold by thinking of him, that this calm, quiet moment of closeness really is the best moment of my entire life. But I don't have to love him like that just because I love him. Don't they say that there can be no friendship without love? And that concerns us more than anyone, thinking of the circumstances… If you hang out every day, and have been through as much as we have, is it that weird that we've just… kissed a little?

Even the times we've done that, it has been so… Tenderly. So loving, such gentle kisses, that it can almost be described as kisses of friendship. It hasn't been a hint of desire in them, just love.

"You know what I've been thinking?" I say sleepily and points to the TV, where "Titanic" is currently playing. "There actually was a possibility for both Jack and Rose to survive."

"How's that supposed to happen?" Lawrence says and tightens his grip on my waist a little.

"What if it was like this?" I say and feel myself melting slightly under his touch. "That door they're floating on now, that can only take one person, right? And earlier in the movie, when Rose gets the opportunity to get into a lifeboat, she runs back into the ship to find Jack. But if she'd taken that boat instead, she would've survived. And then Jack, alone, would've found that floating door, and then he could've been on it! But now, he gives the door to Rose, and we both know he'll die in about seven minutes!"

Lawrence chuckles.

"He would've died either way," he says and turns his head so his nose is in my hair, and I feel his warm breath pour down over my scalp. "Because if she hadn't ran back into the ship, he would still be chained to that pipe by now. And then he still would've died, he'd just do it a little faster. Dumb, adorable Adam."

I smile sheepishly. There's something funny about an insulting and a flattering word that's being used in the same sentence.

We're quiet for a few seconds. But Lawrence's hand moves, it slowly wanders up my waist, over my arm until it lands on my neck, and his thumb slowly caresses my cheek. And I, who was almost asleep, am suddenly wide-awake.

"What is your hand doing, anyway?" I mumble and sit up.

I don't want him to do this. I'm not gay, I'm going to be one of those guys.

Lawrence just smiles to answer my question, and, god bless him, he's not making anything easier.

When I actually see his face it just gets harder not to focus on his hand that's still on my neck, and of course, the fact that I get more turned on by this than by times I've seen completely naked girls being stretched out on my bed.

"Dumb, adorable Adam," Lawrence repeats warmly.

Then he leans forward and kisses me. Not on the lips, but just below my ear, and I feel breath being caught in my throat.

When he pulls back, and I almost can breath normally, one of my ordinary, homophobic thoughts manages to break through the cloud of desire in my brain.

Okay. One kiss. One tiny kiss, and it wasn't even on the lips. One time is no time. Yes, his touch makes my fingers twitch from a sudden longing to grab him, but it's okay. I'm still in control. Nothing has to happen. Friends can kiss, can't they? You don't have to get all romantic from it.

Now, Lawrence has straightened up. His face is so unbearably close, and my gaze jumps from his eyes to his mouth.

"Adam…" He mumbles and moves his hand up to my cheek.

"No," I say and close my eyes. "Just… Shut up, okay?"

He obeys immediately.

"Okay," I repeat. "Can I just… Try something here?"

"Sure," Lawrence says.

I can't see him, but I know he looks amused.

But I'm not really thinking about that. If I'm going to be able to do this, if I'm going to do the one thing that completes my life even though there's so much missing from it, I have to keep myself from thinking.

I'm not supposed to think about the fact that Lawrence is a man.

I'm just supposed to think about all the want that's swelled up inside of me.

So I sweep Lawrence's hand down from my cheek. Then I put both hands around his face. Draw my thumb across his lips, so it'll be easier for me to locate things with my eyes closed. Then I pull his head towards mine, hesitate for a brief second before I let our mouth connect.

It's a light kiss. Neither one of us open our mouths or use or tongues, but it's still just the first one time of many.

I dare to open my eyes, but again, just for a brief second to look into his, before he presses his lips against mine again.

I was right. It was the first of many times.

At first, they're just light, soft kisses, just like they had been before.

The previous kisses were loving.

But these soon go lustful. The love is still there, but it's not the same. It wants more.

The previous kisses were just a brush of one mouth over another.

These kisses start that way, but it doesn't take long until they turn into Lawrence's almost painful grip on my hair and teeth that rattles against each other and wet saliva that wells up and my legs straddling Lawrence and his hips against mine and his greedy hands under my shirt and the back of his head that gets pushed into the wall behind him when I kiss him once again and our shirts that almost gets torn apart in our eagerness to get them off.

The kiss turns into naked skin, ragged breathing, his tongue deep inside of my mouth.

It's such a giant difference between love and sex. Between love and friendship. But it's so easy to cross the line. In this case, I just needed my best friend to kiss me below the ear.

And I know we're not really gay. We're just two straight guys who have fallen in love.

But tonight, I don't think it's wrong.

Tonight, I actually allow myself to love him.

Just for tonight, I allow myself to plant one, final kiss on his chest, that's slowly rising and falling in quivering breaths, and whisper that I love him in a way that two best friends should never love each other.

So? What did you think? Use that lovely blue button to let me know!