User: jenish (posted by fizzyblogic) Date: 2007-11-11 14:14 Subject: Or, What You Will [6/7] Security: Public

Or, What You Will
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The most Nick saw of Tyson before the shooting finished was one night he’d actually had off. He’d come over bearing sauces and they’d made pasta, laughing easily against the kitchen counters and bumping hips as they passed. The other times he’d come over, on weekend nights when Nick was still awake at three in the morning, Tyson had lasted less than an hour before crashing out.

Nick would never have told anyone, except perhaps Robyn if she’d asked, but he liked it when Tyson fell asleep. They were usually on the couch, leaning together, and Tyson would be on his shoulder. Nick would carefully and gently lie down, pulling Tyson on top of him, and run his fingertips through Tyson’s hair, quietly watching the movie and the shadows made by Tyson’s eyelashes. He counted them, once. (He got to fifty-seven before giving up.)

Then he’d nudge Tyson awake enough for them to move into bed, and they’d settle around each other when they got there. Nick slept easily on those nights, and Tyson nearly always woke him with a blowjob before he left. Once, Nick had stopped him in the middle of it, grabbed the lube, and fucked him quickly, Tyson arching and whimpering under him. “Told you I wanted to do that again soon,” Nick had breathed, and Tyson had just moaned and kissed him hard.

Tyson’s last night of shooting was a Wednesday, and he was due to finish at four am. He called Nick and said, “So, want to come over on Wednesday night? I won’t get in until the morning, but I’d uh. I’d like you to be there when I do.” Nick couldn’t keep the grin off his face for two hours after he put the phone down.

He woke up on Thursday morning with the weight of Tyson’s legs slung over his, Tyson’s arm looped around his waist, and Tyson’s head burrowing into his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and smiled.

Tyson slept late into the afternoon that day. When Nick went back after school, he answered the door blearily, wearing only a pair of loose pants and holding a can of coffee. “Hey,” he said, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. His hair was falling every which way, two sections of it were sticking straight up, and his cheek still had pillow marks on it. Nick had never thought him cuter. “How was school?”

“It was good.” Nick held up the two large cups in his hands. “I got you coffee, figured you’d need it.”

“You are the best boyfriend in the world,” Tyson exhaled, taking one of the cups and leading him inside. “Oh yeah this is the good stuff,” he exclaimed after a sip.

“Hey, I like my coffee good,” Nick agreed.

“You have amazing taste,” Tyson murmured, pulling him close by the belt loops. “Wine, coffee, food, clothes. Men.”

“Even the ones with pillow marks and bed hair?” Nick teased, inching his mouth closer.

Tyson shrugged. “What’s a little facial denting and awry hair between boyfriends? I’m still hot.”

Nick fought down the urge to giggle. “Awry?”

“Yeah, awry. It’s a damn fine word, I’ll have you know.” Tyson touched the tips of their noses together. Nick hoped his knees wouldn’t give way.

“Hey,” he murmured, nudging his mouth closer. Tyson was smiling when he kissed him. “So are you uh, you’re awake now,” Nick traced circles with a fingertip on Tyson’s chest, “and you … have some free time?”

“All the free time in the world,” Tyson breathed. “The wrap party’s tomorrow night, d’you want to come?”

“Okay, yeah.” Nick kissed him again, moving his fingers to trace circles on Tyson’s hip. “We could have our own party right now,” he murmured. Tyson shivered slightly.

“Brit’s at work,” he exhaled. “Kim’s meeting this professor dude, says she’s thinking of going to college. So they won’t be back for a while.”

“Good.” Nick dipped his head to kiss Tyson’s neck, and Tyson whimpered. “Because I want to fuck you, Ty,” and Tyson groaned.

The wrap party was crowded and noisy when they got there. Tyson immediately headed in the direction of the bar, pulling Nick along by the hand to make sure they didn’t get separated. Everybody seemed to know him (he was, after all, the star of the movie, so it made sense that they would) and their progress across the room took eight times as long as it should have because people kept stopping them to shake Tyson’s free hand and tell him what a great job he’d done. Several of the men who shook his hand also winked at him and their fingers seemed to linger a little on his wrist, but Tyson would just smile warmly and say, “Have you met my boyfriend?”

The first six people he said it to laughed. After about twenty minutes, however, the news seemed to have made its way around the room like a breeze: Tyson Ritter has a boyfriend, that guy in the blue shirt he’s with, yes, I heard he’s a musician, well I heard they met in a swimming pool, what’s he doing settling down, oh it’ll never last, Tyson Ritter with a boyfriend?

This last was said, rather loudly and a few feet away from where Nick stood with his beer, Tyson having been whisked away by the director for a private chat, by a woman with hair so rigid it should really have had a name and a driving license. Nick couldn’t tell if she didn’t know he was nearby, or if she was deliberately talking louder so he’d hear, but she continued, “I mean, take my brother for example. He was a good boy before he met that man, and now look at him.” Nick glanced over to where she was looking; one of the guys who’d winked at Tyson was dancing energetically with another of them. Even from across the room, Nick recognised the flirting signs.

“Hi,” said a voice by his shoulder, and he turned to see a tanned, good-looking guy smiling at him. “You’re Tyson’s boyfriend, right?” Nick nodded. “I’m Jason, I had a thing with him for a while. Well, I say a while, really it was a night.” Jason shrugged carelessly. “Anyway, I just wanted to come over and say hello, I saw you were all alone.”

“Um. Thanks.” Nick had a strong suspicion that he was being hit on. He wondered where Tyson had got to.

“So how long have you been seeing our good Mr Ritter then?” Jason asked, sipping his drink through a straw. Rather suggestively.

“Couple months,” Nick replied, trying not to think of all the time during those months when their entire relationship had seemed to take place over the phone.

Jason’s eyebrows rose. He leaned closer and said, voice lowered, “What’s the secret? How did you keep him so long?”

“I –” Nick was thrown by the use of past tense.

“Many have tried, though none have but shown it,” Jason intoned. Nick thought he had probably tried for sounding wise; he really hadn’t pulled it off. “See Al over there?” Nick looked where Jason was pointing, and saw a guy in a yellow shirt. “He tried. And Johnny over there, and see those two guys making out near that tall woman in the heels? He had both of those at once.” Jason made a fake shocked face, all raised eyebrows and open mouth. Then he leaned closer again and stage whispered, “I hear they nearly broke the bed.” He winked, over exaggeration.

Nick tried to look vaguely interested while desperately flipping through possible ways to get out of this conversation in his head. “Er,” was his contribution to it, but Jason seemed to need only a captive audience.

“And see him, and him, and that guy over there with the hair? They didn’t really try, didn’t even get a phone number. But him,” Jason pointed to a man in leather pants and a shirt open to his navel, “he almost had Tyson, I swear. Almost got him pinned down beyond one night, but like a butterfly getting pinned to a board, Tyson flitted away again.” This sentence came complete with accompanying hand motion.

Nick stared around the room. “Is there anyone here who hasn’t fucked my boyfriend?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even but feeling like he could punch something.

Jason paused. He obviously wasn’t used to questions, or at least not ones that required him to think to form an answer. “What, in LA?”

Nick had to get away, and he had to get away now. Otherwise he would smack this dude in the fucking jaw. “I uh, excuse me. I just saw someone I know, I gotta –” He headed off towards the bar again.

Jason called after him, “He won’t be pinned down forever, you mark my words.” Nick concentrated very hard on not turning around and punching him. He needed another drink.

“Hey,” he said, getting the barman’s attention. “Another beer please.” It was set in front of him, and he took a swig.

“Don’t listen to Jason,” a voice beside him said. Nick looked; the speaker was a fairly tall woman with smooth red curls and kohl-lined eyes. She was smoking a cigarette, and wearing a dress that matched both her hair and her lipstick. He recognised her, and realised she’d played Tyson’s mother in the movie. She stuck her hand out. “Candy. I was sort of your boyfriend’s mentor.”

“Yeah, he talked about you. Nick.” He shook her hand. “Is it true, what Jason said?”

Candy shrugged one shoulder. “Tyson’s slept with a lot of the guys at this party, there’s no denying that. But,” she pointed the fingers holding the cigarette at him, “he lights up when he’s around you.”

“Oh.” Nick felt warm.

“Jason’s just insanely jealous,” she continued, blowing smoke straight up at the ceiling. “He’s been after Tyson for months. He’ll get bored soon enough, when a man comes along who’s richer and better looking. No offence,” she added, patting Nick’s arm, “Tyson’s very good looking.”

“I know,” Nick said absently. He’d just spotted Ty in the throng, still deep in conversation with the director.

“You’re rather besotted,” Candy observed. She sounded amused. Tyson saw them and held one finger up; he finished talking to the director a minute later and came over.

“I see you two have met,” he said, slipping an arm around Nick’s waist and kissing his hair. “Sorry I was gone so long, Don said he has this project coming up he thinks I’d be perfect for. We were setting up audition dates.”

“That’s awesome,” Nick exclaimed, not noticing he was leaning closer until his elbow lifted off the bar.

“Didn’t I tell you this would open doors?” Candy raked her eyes over him. “Stand up straighter, my boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyson grinned at her, slouching exaggeratedly. Nick got the feeling this was a running joke between them.

Candy laughed, and patted his cheek. “You’ll do, my dear, you’ll do.” She turned a dazzling smile to Nick. “It was delightful to finally meet the man who’s had my dear boy in such a state. I wish good luck to you both. Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband should be around somewhere and I have to keep an eye on him.”

Nick watched her sashay through the crowd. “Now that is a Hollywood actress.”

“Yeah, she’s old school,” Tyson agreed, audible affection in every syllable.

A little while later, the producer and the director called for silence, and they made some speeches about making the movie, referenced some in-jokes that were completely lost on Nick, and led a round of applause for the star and his leading lady. Tyson and the woman with the rigid hair went up to take bows and say a few words about what an honour it had been to work with everyone, and then Tyson and the producer cut the cake and discreet waitresses distributed pieces amongst the guests.

Tyson sidled up to Nick and presented him with the largest piece. “Stole this for you,” he said, all rakish grin. A curl had fallen across his forehead, and Nick suppressed the urge to brush it back to join the others. He just took the cake and ate it, trying hard not to openly stare at Tyson too much. He realised he had spent a lot of the party doing that.

Nick left it until Monday evening – after two solid days of Tyson staying over at his place; Robyn had been at Toad’s, so they had been free to have sex on the couch twice and in the shower once and a couple times in the kitchen – until he said, “Um, do you remember I talked about Jeff?”

“Yeah?” Tyson was sprawled out over him, and looked up from the vicinity of Nick’s nipple.

“Remember he’s getting married soon? The uh, the wedding’s on Saturday, and I was wondering if you’d, uh, if you wanted to come with me. Um, to it.” Nick tried to avoid Tyson’s eyes, but there was sort of nowhere else he could look.

“Yeah, that’d be great. I haven’t been to a wedding since I was a kid.” Tyson smiled up at him, and Nick shuffled down so he could kiss him, because Tyson looked so cute when he was all dishevelled and happy. It was a look he was wearing more and more as the lethargy from shooting ebbed out of him.

On Wednesday, when Tyson came over after school finished, he said, “Okay, I have no fucking clue what to wear to this wedding. Seriously, the last time I was at one, I was the ring bearer and I was five. Help me out? Please?” He pouted a little for good measure, and Nick just pulled him closer by the waist.

“How about I come over Saturday morning and help you pick something out?” he murmured, kissing along Tyson’s jaw.

“Mmm, how about you’re still there from Friday?” Tyson suggested. Nick smiled against his skin.

“Sounds good to me,” he exhaled, yanking Tyson’s shirt up and running his palms over his back.

So on Saturday morning, Nick woke up to the smell of brewing coffee and the sounds of Brittany singing “Who moved all the boxes? Oh wait that’s right I did” to a cha-cha beat. He stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen.

“You still not unpacked yet?” he asked, looking in the fridge for the pineapple juice.

“Hey, I have a demanding job,” Brittany answered, holding two mugs. She gulped from one. “And, y’know, a girlfriend. Who I have to go get back to.” She danced out of the room, singing “Gonna give her coffee. Gonna read the paper” to the same beat. Nick poured out a glass of pineapple juice and stood by the sink, drinking it and looking absently out of the window.

A few minutes later he felt arms snake around his waist. “Morning,” Tyson murmured, his chest connecting with Nick’s back as he nuzzled Nick’s hair.

“Hey,” Nick replied, leaning back into the touch. “We should probably start getting dressed soon, it’ll take us a while to get there.”

They shared a shower, jerking each other off in the spray, wet kisses and cool tiles and taking turns to wash their hair. Nick had his outfit with him, so he got dressed while Tyson stood in front of the open wardrobe doors, drying his hair with the towel that had been wrapped around his waist.

“Okay,” Nick said at last, joining Tyson in his contemplation of the wardrobe, “let’s find you some clothes.”

Tyson stepped back and spread his arms out. “I am a blank canvas,” he boomed. “Paint me as you will, Wheeler.”

Nick laughed. “Okay first, you need decent pants. So let me,” and he began looking through the hangars, rummaging and considering and discarding, until he pulled out a good pair. “These will do,” he tossed them to Tyson, who began putting them on. He didn’t bother with underwear.

“Oh hey, I have some dress shoes, they should be at the bottom on the left,” he called over. Nick dropped to the ground and started searching the wardrobe floor, moving aside shoeboxes filled with bills and several pairs of running shoes.

His hand connected with something of a very weird shape, so he pulled it out and looked at it. “Ty, what the fuck is this?” he asked, holding it up for inspection. It was a long lump of wood; or at least, at one time in its life it had been a long lump of wood. Now, however, it was completely mangled.

“That’s my bedpost,” Tyson said, searching in a drawer for some clean socks. “Kim and Brit gave it to me, and a penknife, so I just kind of. Notched it, you know? As a joke.”

“Oh.” Nick swallowed. He turned the bedpost over and over in his hands. “Wow, that’s – that’s a lot of notches.”

Tyson shrugged. “Half of it’s me carving when I got bored. I wanted to whittle an eagle, but I haven’t the skill.” He wiggled his fingers at Nick, grinning.

“Right.” Nick attempted a laugh, but it came out half-hearted. He turned away to keep looking in the wardrobe, dropping the bedpost back onto the floor of it, and worked to keep his expression blank.

He found the shoes and selected a shirt, and when Tyson was dressed he held his arms out again and said, “Well? Do I look okay?”

“You look amazing,” Nick breathed. He could hardly form sounds. Tyson’s hair was falling artfully around his face without him even trying, his eyes looked clear and blue, and his cheeks were suffused with a smile that only waited for his mouth to catch up.

“Wow. I really must look good.” Tyson was gazing at Nick, head tilted to one side. Nick rallied himself.

“Come on, we’ll be late,” he said quickly, grabbing his phone and his keys. “Wallet, wallet –” It was sitting on the bedside table and he tucked it into his jacket. He hadn’t raised his eyes back to Tyson, and he deliberately didn’t now. “Okay, let’s roll.”

The wedding itself was beautiful. It was the full church, white dress, expensive flowers, bridesmaids in soft pastels, all the men in suits deal. Jeff had never beamed so much, and Nick almost got choked up watching him say his vows. John, who was sitting next to him, blew his nose and muttered something about hay fever.

The reception afterwards was held at a hotel, and there was both a free bar and a vaguely decent DJ, so Nick and Robyn watched with no small amount of glee as nearly every faculty member got completely wasted and danced with increasing vigour over the course of the afternoon. Toad whisked her away to dance, far enough away from the flailing limbs that they were safe from harm, and Nick watched them for a while, waiting for Tyson to get back from the bathroom.

When he realised two entire songs had played since Tyson had left, he decided he’d better find him. Maybe he had got lost, or been roped into some kind of drunken argument by the bride’s brother, who had been hitting the free bar rather hard since they’d got there.

It took him a good few minutes, but he finally found Tyson out a little way into the gardens. Melissa was laughing loudly, pressing a hand to Tyson’s chest and squealing, “Oh, sto-op, you’re so naughty,” and twinkling up at him.

Nick marched over and said, “I see you’ve met my boyfriend, Melissa?”

“Tyson and I were just getting better acquainted,” she simpered, putting an arm around Tyson’s waist and leaning closer to him. He shifted awkwardly, but smiled all the same.

“She’s quite the charmer. I should look out,” he said, and Melissa gently pushed him on the chest again with a high-pitched giggle.

“Oh stop.” She fluttered her eyelashes and Nick thought, yes, please stop.

He took Tyson’s hand and gently pulled him from her grip. “If you don’t mind, I would like to borrow him for this next dance,” he said, firm. Melissa just smiled at him, though not without barbs on the edges of it.

“Of course I don’t mind,” she twinkled, speaking entirely to Tyson.

“It was nice meeting you,” he smiled at her as Nick led him away. When they got back inside and found a space on the dance floor where there was no danger of injury, he sighed, “Oh God, thank you.”

“You were nice to her,” Nick felt he should point out. “You didn’t have to be, you could have just told her to fuck off.”

Tyson wrinkled his nose. “She’s a nice girl really, just … wasting her time trying to get in my pants. They’re already occupied.” He grinned, and dipped one hand down to cup Nick’s ass and give a little squeeze. “I wasn’t flirting, just – being nice.” He shrugged. “It didn’t bother you, right?”

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. “Are you nice to everyone who hits on you?”

“What’s the point in not being? They’re only trying, why make it any worse for them that I’m taken?” He shrugged. “If you’d rather I tell them to fuck off, I’ll try and be mean.”

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t mean – I didn’t think you were –” He stopped, because Tyson was just smiling at him, that smile that meant he’d be leaning in for a kiss any second. All of Nick’s breath suddenly remembered it had to be elsewhere.

Tyson kissed him and a new song started playing. It was slow, and Tyson pulled him closer, hands on his waist. Nick laid his head on Tyson’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

A small voice at the back of his head whispered, Hey, in case you hadn’t noticed – and I see from our records that you hadn’t – you’ve been in love with Tyson since he walked up to you and said hello. Just keeping you up to date. Then it fell silent again.

Tyson held him closer, dancing slow, and when Nick opened his eyes again Tyson was smiling softly at him. “You’re so pretty when you close your eyes,” he murmured, kissing Nick again, slow and soft. Nick’s blood felt like it was turning to champagne.

When they got back to Nick’s that night – Robyn and Toad had gone over to his place – Nick backed Tyson up against the bedroom door and kissed his neck, long wet open-mouth kisses, and he groaned, “Ty, I know we always – we fit, you like me on top, I like it too, but it – fuck, Tyson,” he moaned against his skin, the scent of him driving him crazy, “I want you to fuck me.”

Tyson shuddered and spread the palm of one hand flat against the wall. “Get off me a second or I’ll come in my fucking pants,” he breathed, and Nick obligingly moved away. Tyson breathed hard and said, “Fuck, do you know when the last time a guy asked me to fuck him was?”

Nick swallowed. “No.”

“Me either.” Tyson was still staring at him, hands flat against the door. “Fuck, it’s no good, come get me off, please, I’ll be like a second.”

Nick moved forward faster than he’d thought possible, almost tearing Tyson’s pants as he reached into them. He barely touched Tyson’s cock before he came, neck arched up and looking at the ceiling. “Fuck,” Nick groaned, nosing along his jaw again.

“I won’t need long,” Tyson panted, guiding Nick towards the bed, hands on his hips. “Just.” The backs of Nick’s knees hit the bed and he sat abruptly on it. “Let me,” and he loomed over him, tipping Nick’s head back and kissing him, hands moving to undo Nick’s shirt. He moved slowly downwards, peeling Nick’s clothes off piece by piece. When he was naked, stretched out on his back, and Tyson had thrown his own clothes off, he ghosted breath over Nick’s cock and murmured, “How close are you?”

“Fuck. Close.” Nick bit his lip and arched as Tyson pressed a line of kisses up the shaft. It was, as far as Nick could tell, Tyson’s favourite thing to do, driving him crazy with light touches, lines of kisses, long flat-tongued licks, until Nick was squirming and whimpering and grasping handfuls of the sheets and then, finally, deliciously, he would sink his mouth onto Nick’s cock and start sucking.

Nick came less than a minute after Tyson’s first suck, and when Tyson crawled up the length of Nick’s body and kissed him hungrily, Nick noticed that Tyson was hard again. Arousal stirred at the base of his spine, though his blood flow pleaded respite. Tyson kissed and licked along his clavicle and murmured, “Can I – please –”

“Yes,” Nick answered, his own voice as hushed and desperate as Tyson’s. “Oh fuck yes please.”

Tyson groaned, and reached for the drawer. After a moment or two rummaging in it he dropped a lube bottle on the bed, and then dived back in. “Uh,” he said after another minute, during which he had climbed off of Nick and moved closer to inspect the drawer, “you don’t have any condoms.”

“Shit, fuck, I forgot I gave Robyn my last ones.” Nick tried to force his brain into coherency. It was difficult, but he managed enough to say, “But um, I got a check-up a couple weeks ago, I’m clean.”

“I have them pretty regular,” Tyson nodded. “Check-ups, I mean. I’m clean too.”

“Well. Unless you’re – I mean, it should be safe, right?”

Tyson looked at him for a minute, moved closer again, and nuzzled the tips of their noses together. “I’d never cheat on you, Nick. Okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, yeah I know. Me either, I mean, no way.” He thought about saying it then, his chest suddenly feeling like it was taking a spin in the dryer, but he chickened out. “So I guess, I mean, we’re okay not using them?”

“I guess so, yeah.” Tyson uncapped the lube and slathered some onto his fingers. “You okay if I –”

“Fuck yes,” Nick nodded, though his chest was still churning a little. Tyson eased his fingers into Nick’s ass, slick, nimble, and Nick groaned, arching up and pushing onto Tyson’s hand. Tyson planted kisses over his neck as he slid three fingers inside, moving them, and it felt fucking good. Nick tried to reach for the lube, return the favour, but Tyson shook his head.

“Gonna make this perfect for you,” he murmured, smoothing his hands over Nick’s chest before lubing up his palms and stroking his own cock a few times. His head tipped back, and Nick watched, already half hard again.

Tyson went slow at first, but Nick opened his thighs as far as he could and tilted upwards, thrusting up to meet him. Tyson moaned and buried his head in Nick’s neck, licking and sucking at the skin as he quickened the pace. Nick flattened the palm of one hand against Tyson’s back, the other in his hair, and moaned, “Oh fucking – fuck, fuck – Tyson, fuck fuck –”

Tyson groaned and exhaled, “Fuck.” He thrust in harder, faster, and Nick angled up, and he could feel Tyson getting closer and closer to just the right place – and as he hit it, he wrapped one hand around Nick’s cock.

Nick saw stars on his eyelids, heard his own voice give a loud, long moan that ended on a “Ty”, and felt Tyson shudder hard and go still.

His stomach was sticky, and he felt the warm weight of Tyson’s come in his ass. His entire body relaxed, stretched out as Tyson pulled out carefully and flopped onto the pillow beside him. “Let’s do that again some time,” Tyson breathed.

Nick, in a state of absolute bliss, just nodded his agreement.

When he woke up the next morning, Tyson was propped up on his elbow gazing down at him. Nick rubbed an eye, feeling fuzzed up so that none of the things he thought about saying – mostly involving the words “Morning” or “Hey you”, so nothing earth-shattering – actually made it to his mouth, let alone out of it.

Tyson smiled down at him, and he said, “You’re worth a billion notches on some bedpost. No wait – more than a billion. You’re worth six billion – you’re worth more than six billion notches on a bedpost.”

“That’s everyone in the world,” Nick mumbled, sleepy.

“Yeah, it is,” Tyson confirmed. Nick rolled closer, curling inwards until enough of his body had made contact with Tyson’s, and fell asleep again.

Later that afternoon, when Tyson had gone home to pick up a change of clothes, Nick took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a minute. He ran the pad of his thumb over the edge of it, back and forth, back and forth, and then finally selected his phone book, scrolled to Mike’s name, and hit ‘call’. “Hi,” he said quickly, when Mike picked up, “it’s Nick.”

“Nick?” Mike sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just – wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Mike seemed to be evaluating Nick’s pause. “What about?”

“Remember that thing you said, about when you met Chris? How you just knew it was perfect, first sight and all, that you were in love with him but it was – it was different to what we had, it was – that it was all just so …” He trailed off. The words had deserted him.

“I know what you mean.” Nick could almost hear Mike nodding. He’d forgotten the way Mike’s movements almost made sound over the phone. He couldn’t help breaking out into a grin.

“Well, uh. Now I know what you meant.” He blushed, and ducked his head even though no one was there to see it.

Mike whooped. “That’s awesome, oh dude – I knew it’d happen for you, I just – oh man. That’s awesome,” he repeated. His grin sounded off the charts, a full-on beam.

Nick hugged himself. “Yeah, yeah it pretty much is. So hey, I can’t talk for long, but maybe we’ll see you two around some time.”

“That’d be so great, we’d love that.”

Nick felt a little like dancing, or hugging the phone, but he did neither. He just made lunch, singing “Out of me, into you yeah, you can hide, it’s just a one-way street.” Tyson rang the doorbell just as he was playing an air guitar solo with the aid of a fork.

He got home early as usual on Tuesday, and Tyson arrived fifteen minutes later bearing a DVD he said he’d bring over and a quivering air of excitement.

“So hey,” he said as Nick was making the coffee, leaning against the counter, “remember I had that shoot in France in the middle of the semester?”

“Yeah?” Nick reached into the cupboard for a fresh jar, as he had just discovered there were only dregs in the bottom of the current one. Tyson didn’t speak again until he had located the jar, set it next to the kettle and turned back to face him.

“It got rescheduled, and now it’s a week after you finish and I thought, maybe you’d like to come with me.”

Nick started to gape, but Tyson just kept on talking.

“I know you’ve wanted to do the wine tour thing forever, and I got us first class tickets so what do you say, do you want to come?”

Nick tried to make his jaw work, but it was still too busy dropping to the floor.

“We could hire a car or something, drive to Bordeaux?” Tyson said into the silence. “The shoot’ll only be a couple days, just this commercial, then we’d be free for a week or two. Are … you going to say anything or what?” he finished, looking anxious.

Nick launched himself at Tyson, landing with his legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his shoulders. Tyson steadied himself against the counter as Nick crushed their mouths together, kissing him hard, greedily.

“I’ll um,” Tyson stuttered as they broke for breath, “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Take it as a fuck yes,” Nick beamed. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

Tyson stopped, leaning back to look at him, and blinked a few times. “Um. Actually, no.”

“Oh.” Nick really had to put his legs back down on the floor, so he stood, breaking much of the physical contact. He stayed at that distance, far enough away to focus, and he looked at Tyson and said, “I love you, Ty.”

Tyson looked right back at him and breathed, “I love you too, Nick.”

When Nick was drifting to sleep that night, Tyson breathing across his shoulders, one arm flung over Nick’s waist as they spooned, Nick could have sworn for a second that he heard a very faint voice saying “Checkmate” triumphantly. But his dreams were already pulling him down, so his last thought before he fell asleep was that he must have imagined it.



[epilogue]

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