Who: Anton Sparke and James Xander What: A solid round of 'what the hell did I do last night?' When: The morning after this call, and after the Anton/Louis log that is soon to be posted. Where: Anton's Penthouse Warnings: FEELINGS AND AWKWARDNESS.
When consciousness came to James that morning, it didn't tread lightly. It hit him with the force of a thousand-tonne truck, leaving him dizzy and reeling where he lay, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He cracked one eye open, then the other, fighting the monstrous pounding behind his forehead. The light filling the room was still gray and timid, which meant it was still early morning. He was quite clearly not in his own room - the furnishings were sleek and modern instead of classic mahogany - but that was too usual an occurrence to cause panic. Then it him. Anton. It came back all at once: the phone call, the drunk confessions, Anton's penthouse, his bed. Certain parts of the night, mostly the latter, were much more vivid in his head, every technicolor moment bringing a smile to his face even now. It was the phone call that he did not have a great grasp on, and it was the phone call that worried him most. He recalled being particularly chatty last night, and had no idea how much of a fool he'd really been. Granted, it was with Anton and that shouldn't have ordinarily been cause for worry, but things with Anton had been far from ordinary as of late.
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was a grown man, and he would simply have to accept whatever it was that Anton wanted. Wincing slightly at the continual throbbing in his head, he turned over to face the other man. "Good Morning."
Anton had one thing he had decided he wasn’t going to do anymore. But all it had really taken was a brief conversation with a side of angst and James walking through his door again. The conversation hadn’t continued on the same route it was going on the phone. There was flirting, a couple more drinks and now here they were. It wasn’t that Anton didn’t enjoy the company and distraction James offered, it was more that Anton didn’t enjoy that after a handful of years he seemed to get complicated feelings and James (in his view) hadn’t followed suit. He’d had no interest in throwing caution to the wind and attempting to see where things stood, that just complicated things further and he didn’t want that. At all. This was obviously his problem, and a problem that wasn’t shared. He could handle that, it wasn’t the first time, but this time he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes.
So here, in the light of day, it was business as usual. He was staring at the ceiling when James woke up and as he stirred he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep until James said good morning to him. He stretched a bit and opened one eye and put on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but they rarely did. Most people didn’t notice the difference. “Good morning, how are we feeling today?” he said reaching over to his bedside table for a bottle of advil and a bottle of water for James. He was nothing, if not prepared for a hangover. He wasn’t a stranger to them, it just so happened this time it wasn’t for him.
James decided it would be wiser to look to the hangover first, so he swallowed the pills and downed the entire bottle of water before attempting to answer. "I've--" he cleared his throat, thumping his chest to clear out the hoarseness. "I've clearly been better. And you? I know this wasn't... what you wanted." He studied Anton as he spoke, searching for physical cues that could tell him what Anton's reply would not. James didn't need to be a psychic to see that Anton was putting on the show. Years of whatever they had was enough to know not only that they both hid behind false masks, but also that sometimes the cracks would show. James knew that his had shown last night when he had foolishly polished off that 22 year-old scotch before arriving here, and he could only guess when Anton's would show. Even with a pounding head and a parched throat James knew there was more than just the two of them in the bed that morning; there was an eight tonne elephant in there right with them, and sooner or later, they would have to address it.
Anton turned from his back to his side and narrowed his eyes for a moment, “Yes you really had to twist my arm,” he said and he was being honest. Sure he hadn’t wanted to wind up like this again but that was his problem and certainly not one James needed to worry about. “There’s more water, do you need more water?” he asked his eyebrows raised curiously. Anton was awesome at avoiding elephants. There were probably a half dozen elephants scattered around his house at this exact moment. The one in the bed could wait. Just like the rest of them. He didn’t want to hear what he was sure he’d hear. And he didn’t want to say what was too much for him to actually say. Things were fine.
James couldn't quite dredge up the energy to give Anton a 'look', but settled instead for nodding and accepting the water. He would be unable to go full speed ahead with all engines at a roar, perhaps, but he'd need to be functioning to get through what they both knew was coming. "It wasn't the sex I was referring to, Anton." James was not a proud man, but he wasn't deluded either, at least when it came to his ability to satisfy a partner in bed. He knew full well that the reason the two of them fell into bed so often was because they enjoyed it, both on an intellectual and physical level. It was the emotional one that they were both terrible at. "You came here because you didn't want to deal with me in New York." James knew he was over-simplifying things, but with his memory so hazy, sweeping generalizations were the best he could do.
Anton was about to open his mouth with a smart ass retort, but it was clear that James was hell bent on discussing things. However when he suggested the reason that Anton had moved, and he’d laid it out so simply he was taken aback. That wasn’t how he’d meant it, or even thought about it. Ever. At all. He shook his head, “That isn’t why I came here James,” he said as calmly as he could. “It had nothing to do with not wanting to deal with you, I’m sorry if that’s what you thought.”
James shook his head. "Don't apologize. I didn't mean for it to be an accusation." James wasn't actually self-centered enough to imagine Anton bloody Sparke had moved across the country to avoid a man he was shagging. "What I meant was that you stopped taking my calls, and unless I'm misremembering things, it was because you were no longer pleased with the way things were going." He didn't understand why he couldn't put things less technically, blasted surgeon that he was. The situation wasn't one James was skilled at putting into words, let alone actually addressing. "I'm sorry, I'm rubbish at this, and the headache isn't helping." He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, leaving the brown strands standing on end.
Anton sighed. Apparently they were going to discuss this. He knew he shouldn’t have brought it up last night, but he was testy. And when James called sounding all, well, like James he didn’t want to fall back into old patterns. Instead they’d had a discussion, fallen back into old patterns, and now they were going to talk about things he still didn’t want to discuss. Not for any reason other than he knew better than most that you couldn’t un-say things. Once they were out they were out and no matter how bad of a mistake it had been to say them they were said. “It wasn’t anything you did,” he said after a moment.
James laughed. "It wasn't? There are some words that I am rather hazily recalling from last night that make it seem as though it was." Especially something about it taking James thirty seconds to move on this his next conquest. "But that is not what I was getting at." James needed to keep this centered on Anton as much as he could at the moment, and was trying to steer the conversation back to the other man. "You said you panicked. If it was nothing I did, then why?" He could hear the sound of his own pained voice, and it required real effort to neither groan nor invent an excuse to climb out of bed. "I know I sound like the damned inquisition, but I very much want for you to be happy, Anton."
“No, it wasn’t. And if I made it seem that way that wasn’t my intention,” Anton was unsure about what he should say, or what he wanted to say, and even more what he would actually say. He wasn’t much better at this. He could talk to other people about other people until he was blue in the face. But here, in his own room, in his own bed, with someone he’d known for a very long time and he was at a loss. He didn’t want to answer the question as to why he panicked, it was ridiculous and was likely to throw a wrench in his entire life. He was tired of throwing wrenches. “I am happy,” relatively speaking. He was still alive, he still had people he cared about willing to put up with him after all. “I panicked because,” he moved a bit and was laying on his back again staring at his old friend the ceiling. “I started to notice some things about myself that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with, things that had always been easy stopped being easy and started feeling more complicated than I ever intended them to. Honestly,” he paused again and took a deep breath, “I started wanting more, not just from myself. From you, from us, and I didn’t think it right to try and ask. We were fine, everything was fine. There was nothing wrong with it. Why complicate things? Why take something that worked and try and change it? It wouldn’t have ended well, and when I stopped answering your calls it wasn’t because of you, it was because I needed to get my head screwed on straight and figure out what the hell I was doing with myself.” It was easier saying it to the ceiling than it was saying it to James. But there was no denying that James was, in fact, in the room. Though likely not for long.
James understood how it was easier for Anton to address his ceiling than the person in bed with him. He downed the rest of his second bottle as he listened, chiding his brain to focus through the pain on what Anton was saying. There were a lot of words, most of them vague, but one point stuck out to him more than others. "Would I be an arse to point out that if you wanted more, then it obviously wasn't working out? And even if it were, asking would only make you human." James was trying to pay as little attention to what 'more' in this situation would entail; he could only handle one thing at a time. This was already turning into the most painful conversation James had ever had, and that was without the hangover factored in. "Perhaps I would have been just as fine with something more. Why not at least ask?"
Anton turned his head to the side to give James A Look that clearly indicated Anton didn’t think for a second he’d be just fine with something more. Nothing bad, just how he saw the situation. “Because asking changes things, and not usually for the better. I just needed to get away and think. And not worry about bringing a bunch of feelings around all the time. It wasn’t like I intended to never speak to you again. We’re friends, and I don’t have many of those. I just needed to clear my head. Everything is fine.” He was quiet for a moment, “And yes, you would be an arse to point that out. That isn’t the point. I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re obviously fine.”
James tried once again for a look, but still couldn't manage one. "Of course we're friends and I fully hope we continue to be once we're dressed. But this isn't what you want. It wasn't in New York and it doesn't seem to be now. How are we fine?"
“We will continue to be friends once we’re dressed,” Anton said dryly. The next question earned a shrug, “Just because,” he stopped. “We are fine. Just because I panicked doesn’t mean we aren’t fine. I told you I just needed to think. We’ve clearly worked it out.”
James sat quietly for a moment, watching Anton continue to stare at the ceiling. It was clear that he would be just fine carrying things on just as they were, or at least swear to high heaven that he would. Pressing any further was not something James was inclined to do, and he did not think it likely to make Anton change his answer. It was clear that he was going to have to speak to his own feelings about the situation, which mean examining the bloody things in the first place.
His self-examination took place in complete silence, the only movement in the room coming from the incessant pulse in his head. James might have wondered if Anton had fallen asleep, but he had a feeling the man was too busy running things forwards and back in his head to nap. "What-" James began rather suddenly, only to find that his voice had once again dried out and needed clearing. "What if I told you that more was something I wanted as well?" He was very careful not to say something he could want, or might want, or would be willing to consider. James was asking Anton to face some difficult truths and knew he owed the man the same, no matter how uncomfortable or awkward it made a fully grown man feel.
Anton laid there in silence, wondering which one of them was going to claim to have suddenly remembered that they had somewhere to be. Then James spoke and Anton’s stomach tightened a bit when he spoke. What? was all he could think. He turned over then, ceiling party be damned, and looked at James seriously. He was embarrassed by how his mind went two different directions. The first was that he felt like some kind of eager poodle that had just been offered a jerky treat. The second was that he was incredibly skeptical that James would want more, in fact he wasn’t convinced James could even define “more.” He smiled just the same, “Well if this were any random day, without all of the segue, and without last night, and without this morning I would probably tell you that more is what I want too. But seeing as how we can’t ignore last night, or this morning I would first say that you don’t have to want more in the interest of making sure I’m happy, then I would ask exactly what more it is you want, and then I would reassert that this isn’t something that I’m asking you to worry about. We’re going to be friends regardless, I hope you know that.”
James was a very intelligent man who had never had trouble following Anton before, but it still took him a moment to catch up to what the other man was saying. Glad as he was to have Anton's attention, James didn't feel the heat rise under the man's stare. This look was more careful, more considering than their usual, which felt more like a race to undress the other with a look alone. He didn't fidget under the blue gaze; James had meant what he had said, even if it had taken him this long to realize it. "I know I don't have to want more, Anton. I'm not in the habit of doing or asking for things I don't actually want." He caught the man's gaze and held it. "But I do want more, however we decide to define it." Pausing, James considered just what more he wanted. "I want you to tell me things, the kind of things that made you run." One for him. "And exclusivity." That was for Anton. Monogamy or the lack thereof had never perturbed James, and he didn't bat a lash at having to give everyone else in the world up.
Anton turned over onto his side then his eyes narrowed as he looked at James curiously, as if trying to gauge the situation. He wasn’t sure if he was just saying these things because that’s what he thought Anton wanted or needed to hear, but would be an idiot if he didn’t at least pretend to take them at face value? And then maybe eventually it might matter. He was about to say something along the lines of ‘yes’ but the worry he was fighting was that James would say in his normal tone of voice and reason “Christ Anton, I wasn’t serious.” Instead he leaned in a bit closer with a shit eating grin on his face. “If you want to go steady that’s fine with me, but you have to go places with me and tell me I look pretty when you sleep over.” As long as they were making deals and all. Who knew how far it would go, but it was an easy way to test the waters at the very least.
It was too early and too painful for shit-eating grins, but James bore it gracefully. "I don't call people pretty, love. You will have to learn to make do with lovely, exquisite, or any other variety of feminine adjectives you desire. But I shan't do pretty." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "Or bootylicious.." Dr. James Xander drew lines somewhere. "Is that all the more you want then? Because being your date and complimenting you are things I have done many times over."
Anton was embarrassed at how much his mood was elevated in the last few minutes of conversation. He shouldn’t be that easy to impress, but it wasn’t going as badly as he thought it was going to be. And despite some awkward, it had been easier than he’d anticipated. He was pretty sure he was in some kind of denial that this would be smooth sailing but for the moment he seemed to be handling everything okay. For now. “You don’t think I’m bootylicious? I was thinking of getting that on my license plate frame,” he said finally managing to become more personable than he’d been all morning. The distance between them didn’t seem so great and while he was hardly hanging all over him he certainly wasn’t avoiding him despite being in the same bed with him. “I reserve the right to amend this once I figure out what the hell we’re doing,” he said with a serious smile, “And so do you.”
"I think your arse is quite fit, and I wouldn't dare stop you from advertising if you wished. I trust your daughter to handle that." James could feel the tension in the air dissipate, and was pleased to find a good bit of his headache lift with it. Instead of the panic and turmoil he had expected to come out of this conversation, there was a warm serenity spreading through him; the sensation was both new and strangely comfortable. James's mouth twisted up into a grin, the sheets falling low as he turned to face Anton more fully. "You mean we aren't signing this contract with spit and blood? What a relief."
Anton nodded in agreement, his arse was bootylicious. “If Nell gives me a license plate frame saying Bootylicious I’m disinheriting her,” he said with a chuckle. It wasn’t so terrible, it wasn’t the most comfortable situation for Anton. As with all things he kept waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. “Spit and blood comes after you’ve pinned me, and I want to wear your letter jacket.”
"Do tell me how that works out for you. I can see no flaws in that plan whatsoever." James had met the girl a few times over the years, but felt he had developed a better knowledge of her through Anton's tales. "You need a man more American than I for that, love. The best I can do is a dreadfully old Eton jumper." Now that his mood was improved, it was much easier for him to ignore the hangover. "I still think we should 'seal the deal' somehow. Perhaps not blood, but..." James closed the distance between them, his lips landing squarely on Anton's.
Anton grinned and sat there thoughtfully for a moment, “I don’t think she’d tolerate that well, she’s probably already got secret power of attorney over me in case I become an invalid, she’s a smart one.”
Anton wasn’t sure he’d be well suited trying to have this conversation with anyone else. He tried to imagine “getting out there” and trying to find someone interested in “more” and it was like he was living on another planet. James was safe, and comfortable, and Anton wouldn’t have run off if the pesky feelings hadn’t gotten involved. That, he supposed, was part of the problem. He’d assumed (and still rather worried about it even in this moment) that the feelings weren’t returned. He tried not to let his insecurities come bubbling to the surface, they’d try this out and see what happened. “I think I’ll stick with the dreadfully old Eton jumper, everyone will think I’ve landed me a school boy. I’ll be in jail by the end of summer,” he teased. When James kissed him he smiled against his mouth and chuckled a bit. His arm moved around him and he held onto him and sighed when he pulled back. “Your hangover is gone miraculously then?” he teased.
"I bet you're right. It would be fitting if of all the things you've done, I'm the one who gets you thrown in jail." James didn't fight it when Anton pulled back, taking the moment to return his smile. "Not gone, yet, but this is certainly helping. Maybe if we keep going, it'll leave me altogether. Care to test the hypothesis?"
((the original ending, because Jeannie made me: AND THEN THERE WAS SCIENCE.))