Extra shifting...
Aug. 2nd, 2011 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kate_sherwoodI just took down the extras from the Dark Horse books, since they're in the process of being polished up and turned into e-books.
But I do have a NEW extra, if anyone's interested. It's just a fluffy short story that I wrote for the Goodreads m/m group's Hot July Days project. A bit of hurt/comfort, some friends-to-lovers, and some hat-related silliness. Bonus points to people who pick up on the blancmange reference. (Only one reader, one of my betas, has so far...)
TAKEN
“Ah, fuck!” Cody moaned, and he fought to keep his body still, his ass at the exact same angle, so that with the next stroke… “Oh, Jesus, Tristan, just… Oh, yeah…”
“Like this?” Tristan asked. He was a little out of breath but Cody could still hear the teasing in his voice. “You want it like this?”
“Shut up, you… oh… you smug bastard… oh, fuck, yeah… yeah…”
“You need to watch that potty mouth, Code.”
“Fuck you… oh, fuck…”
“Fuck you, I think you mean.” Tristan was too controlled, too smug, too… oh, Jesus, too perfect at this. Cody stopped even trying to have coherent thoughts, stopped trying to maintain any level of dignity, and gave in to the sensations. Every stroke of Tristan’s beautiful cock brought Cody closer to the edge, but he fought it, tried to hold it off, tried to keep himself on the perfect, exhilarating precipice for just a little longer…
“Oh, fuck…” he managed, and then his voice was lost as his orgasm washed over him and swept him away with it.
He was vaguely aware of Tristan still slamming away, but by the time Cody was coherent enough to do anything to help, Tristan was shuddering, his fingers spasming on Cody’s hips as he drove deep one more time and then stilled.
Tristan slumped over Cody’s back and nuzzled in so that his stubbled cheek was against the sensitive skin of Cody’s neck. “Damn, Code. Why don’t you always bottom?”
Cody snorted and shifted away, Tristan lifting himself enough to let Cody roll over onto his back. “Yeah. ‘Cause you need another reason to go strutting around like you’re the top stud of the city.”
“Code, I can still strut even after I bottom -- your dick isn’t big enough to leave much of an impact, you know.” Tristan leaned over and lifted the bottle of beer off the nightstand, took a swallow, and then offered the bottle to Cody.
Cody took the beer and sat up enough to drain the last bit without spilling it all over himself. He didn’t bother to respond to Tristan’s insult; they’d been maligning each other’s dicks since puberty, but it had never seemed to stop either of them from taking pleasure in what the other had to offer.
“Hey, did you meet Matt’s new friend from work? Sean?” Tristan nodded in satisfaction. “I think I’m in there. I totally could have closed the deal tonight, but he left early.”
Cody tried to keep his body relaxed. It wasn’t like he’d been fooling himself about what this was. Not anymore. “If he left early, that doesn’t sound like he was all that into you.”
“Nah, he was. He was just being coy, or something. Playing hard to get. But he had his hand on my thigh for, like, half-an-hour right before he left. Like, upper thigh. There was contact with the unmentionables, if you know what I mean.”
“’Unmentionables’ are underwear, Tristan. It’s not really that exciting if he touched your underwear.”
“Okay, Mr. English Major. He was touching my junk, is that better?”
“He touched it, and then left? Damn -- that sucks, man. I mean… you’re not that small. I’m sure you could have found a way to make it work.”
“Code, that line would be a hell of a lot more effective if I hadn’t just fucked you into a hands-free orgasm.” Tristan took a moment to enjoy his victory, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You’re still on for tomorrow, right? Kelly’s barbecue?” He was looking for his underwear; Cody didn’t bother to point out that it was still bunched up with his jeans.
“Yeah.” He wanted to say something. Wanted to reach over, pull Tristan back into the bed, snuggle into him and hold on. He wanted to keep Tristan there forever, just the two of them, talking and fooling around and then talking some more. “You want to stick around? We could watch some TV, have another round…” God, he was pathetic, waiting there like a damn puppy hoping its owner would give it a scratch behind its ears.
“Nah. I should go. You need your beauty sleep, after all. Like, you really need it.” Tristan found his underwear and stood to pull it on, and Cody let himself stare a little. Tristan was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt to look at him, sometimes, but it was the kind of hurt that Cody couldn’t stay away from.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Jesus. Cody really hadn’t known he was going to say that. He’d thought about it, sure, but he hadn’t made a decision, had he? Or at least, he hadn’t found the strength to follow through on the only decision that made any sense.
Tristan was giving him a weird look. “Can’t do what?”
Cody wanted to back down. God, he wanted that so much; he could just say it was nothing, say he didn’t know what he was talking about. Tristan was used to Cody saying weird things. He wouldn’t mind. But Cody had been putting off the inevitable for too damned long, and he needed to see this through. “You and me. I mean -- you’re my best friend. I don’t want that to change. But I don’t think we should fool around anymore.” Ninety-eight percent of Cody’s brain was screaming in panicked dismay at the two percent that seemed to be in control of his mouth. It wasn’t perfect, just being fuck buddies, but, damn it, it was better than nothing! Better than never getting to see Tristan’s beautiful body, never getting to touch his warm golden skin…
Tristan had his jeans on, but sat back down on the bed with his shirt still in his hands. “What are you talking about? Is this because of that Seth guy?”
That would be an easy excuse. But if Cody was going to do this, which apparently he was, then he should do it right. He should be honest. “Not really. It’s just -- I mean, yeah, kind of him. But it’s more -- I -- I just -- I’m looking for something more. Something serious. And I don’t think I’m going to find it if I’m still fooling around with you.” I’m not going to find it if I’m still in love with you.
Tristan frowned. “So it is the Seth guy. I mean -- we’ve taken breaks before, when we’re dating people. That’s okay… the way you were talking, I thought you meant forever.”
“It’s -- okay, A, it’s just ‘Seth’, not ‘the Seth guy’. It’s his name, not a description or something. And, B -- does it not seem fucked up to you, that you’re just assuming that he and I aren’t going to work out, and I’ll be back to fucking around with you in no time? Like, does that not seem like a pretty unhealthy outlook for a relationship?”
Tristan looked like he was trying to understand. “Yeah, okay. But -- that’s what’s always happened before, right?”
Cody sighed. Yeah, that was what had always happened before. Because no guy could ever live up to the standard Tristan had set. Not in bed, certainly, but not out of bed, either. “That’s the problem. I think I’ve been treating other people like they’re temporary, and treating this like it’s permanent. I need to -- I think I need to get rid of this, so that I don’t have a backup plan. I have to be willing to put 100% into something new.”
“With Seth.”
“Jesus, Tristan, stop fixating on him. I mean -- yeah, maybe. I don’t know. But that’s not the point. The point is that I want something more, and I can’t get it from you, and I can’t get it from anyone else, either, not while I’m still…” Jesus, he’d almost said it. Almost admitted that he was in love with his best friend. “Not while I have this to fall back on.”
Tristan had an expression on his face that Cody couldn’t read, and that was unusual. They’d been friends since kindergarten, since Tristan had stolen Cody’s Lego and then shared his cookies to make up for it. Eighteen years later, they’d made it through high school and university together, they’d dealt with sexual awakenings and homophobia and every other damn thing, and now Cody suddenly couldn’t tell what Tristan was thinking? The thought of losing their emotional bond was even more terrifying than the thought of never being able to touch Tristan’s body again. Cody couldn’t go through with it. He had his mouth open, ready to take it all back, but Tristan stood up abruptly.
“Yeah, okay.” He pulled his shirt on over his head. “I get it. Okay.” He stood up and looked around for his socks.
Cody felt a churning pit opening up in his stomach. What had he done? “But we’re still on for Kelly’s, right? The barbecue?”
There was no pause, no awkward moment, but there was something almost mechanical about Tristan’s nod. “Yeah. For sure. But -- maybe you want to go with Seth? I can take Sean, or somebody else -- no worries, man, if you want.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter who drives with who, right? I’ll give you a call tomorrow, sort it out.” Cody tried desperately to keep his voice level and relaxed, tried to tell himself that everything was still fine.
“Yeah, okay.” Tristan pulled his second sock on. He’d left his shoes by the door, and he stood to go. “See you, Cody.” And then he was gone, out the bedroom door, down the short hall to the outside door of the apartment. Cody waited and listened, and when he heard the door shut with a soft click, he let himself slide down into the bed. His apartment had never felt so empty.
***
“Are those really appropriate?” It was Seth’s first trip to the bar, and he didn’t like the hats. Cody wasn’t too surprised. A lot of people weren’t crazy about them, at first. “Doesn’t it just feed into the stereotype? Gay men are predators, right? The poor innocent straight guys need to be protected from our endless harassment.”
Cody shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. Seriously.” He looked across the bar at the two guys watching the big screen TV. They were both wearing bright red baseball caps with the words ‘Don’t bother - I’m straight’ written on them. Cody could see how someone might get the wrong impression. “It’s a service to the gay customers. Well, to Tristan, mostly…”
Seth raised an eyebrow.
“When he opened this place, he wanted it to be somewhere that he’d want to hang out. He likes guys, and he likes sports. So it’s a gay sports bar. Makes sense, right? But it’s also the best sports bar in the area, so he ended up getting a lot of straight guys coming in. Not the homophobic assholes, just guys who want to watch the game on a big screen with good food and cheap beer.” Cody paused to see Seth’s reaction.
“Okay…”
“But it’s Tristan, right? And his friends. So there was a pretty good pick-up scene going on. And it was getting pretty frustrating, because guys were buying drinks for guys, spending some serious time talking to them -- and then finding out that they were straight. Super inefficient.” Cody had always thought the hat plan was pretty ingenious, but he was beginning to wonder if maybe he had misjudged. Seth was working on his PhD in the same department where Cody was getting his Masters; Seth was pretty damned smart, and he didn’t seem too impressed. Still, Cody kept trying. “So he found somewhere that makes hats for cheap, and he offers them for free to anyone who orders a pitcher, or a meal, or something. They’ve got the bar’s name on the back, so they’re good advertising, not too expensive. And the regulars just bring their own hats back each time.”
Cody knew he’d made the best case he could, but Seth still looked vaguely disapproving, and the familiar tension began to spread through Cody’s body. He was trying so hard to make this work. He wasn’t over Tristan yet, not by a long shot, so it wasn’t fair to expect Seth to make him happy. Nobody could make him happy, not yet. But he wished he was doing a better job of being who Seth wanted him to be.
“It wouldn’t have been easier to have communicated in words? If these guys aren’t able to speak to each other, should they really be thinking about having sex with each other?” Seth smiled gently. “We managed to find each other without silly hats, didn’t we?”
Cody nodded, and he was reassured when Seth reached under the table to find his hand, holding it softly. Maybe he hadn’t messed things up too badly. But then Seth kept going. “Now, what do you suppose our chances are of finding something to eat here that isn’t dripping with grease?”
“Pretty good, I’d say.” It was Tristan, notepad in hand, standing by their table. He didn’t usually serve customers, but he generally took Cody’s orders; it made it easier to suggest weird, creative additions to the food, some of which ended up being totally delicious. “Our grilled salmon is pretty popular with people watching their weight. The pasta is good if you’re not going low carb, and the roast chicken breast isn’t exciting, but it’s pretty healthy.” Tristan’s smile was hard to read. “You’ll want to stay away from the nachos, though.”
The nachos. Cody’s favorite, as Tristan knew very well. Another one of Tristan’s stupid little digs at this relationship. It had been almost a month since Cody had made his decision, and things with Tristan had been fine, on the surface, but not quite right underneath. In the past, they’d always supported each other’s attempts at romance, even those that kept them out of each other’s beds. But this time, it seemed like Tristan had decided that Seth wasn’t good for Cody. Which wasn’t fair, at all, because Tristan had only seen Seth in a very limited set of circumstances. At house parties, or out goofing around with the guys, and now, in a damn sports bar; all the places that Tristan was comfortable, but Seth clearly wasn’t. So, yeah, maybe Seth came across as being a bit stuffy, but that didn’t mean he was always like that.
But he wasn’t really doing too much to help himself in the current situation. “Salmon?” Seth smiled across the table at Cody. “Do you think it will compare to the exquisite flavors we were treated to last night at Anton’s?”
Cody was fighting to find an answer, to figure out the words that would defend Tristan without angering Seth, but Tristan was too quick for him. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard our salmon called ‘exquisite’, man. We hear ‘fucking good’ pretty often, but that’s a bit different. Do you guys want some time to think it over?”
Seth squeezed Cody’s fingers just a little too tight. “Actually, I think I’ll visit the bathroom; Cody, why don’t you order for me? You know the menu, right? I mean, coming here was your idea, after all.” He stood up and edged out past Tristan, who didn’t move aside quite as much as he probably should have. “I’m sure you’ll find the best choice.” And he was gone. The tension in Cody’s guts flared. Another damned test. And given that Seth had already made it clear that the menu was beneath him, it was another damned test that Cody was destined to fail.
Tristan slid into Seth’s abandoned chair, and stared across the table meaningfully. “You’re sure about this guy, Cody?” He squirmed a little, as if deciding how much to say. “He’s -- really? He’s what you want? I mean -- he’s the guy who makes you decide to quit you-and-me?” He caught himself. “Shit, no, sorry. That’s not what I meant. This isn’t about that. This is just about you, okay? I’m just trying to be a friend.”
Cody tried to fight the emotion back, but he wasn’t totally successful. “It’s totally about you and me,” he practically hissed. “I can’t -- if this doesn’t work with Seth, I’m just going to fall right back into that shit with you, and it’s going nowhere! I want something to go somewhere, Tristan. Keeping everything casual was great, when I was a kid, but I want something more, now.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, yeah, but not just for the sake of it. Like…” He ran his hand over his face in his familiar gesture of frustration. “You shouldn’t be with an asshole, just to stay away from me. If you want -- I mean, if it helps, I can just say no. We’re done. I don’t care if you’re with someone or not, you and me are not fucking around anymore. Okay?” Tristan cast a furtive glance over his shoulder toward the bathroom, and then turned back, looking as tense as Cody felt. “Or, you know… if… I mean, if it’s just a relationship that you want… we could try that. You and me. I mean, you’re my best friend, right? And the sex is awesome. That sounds like a pretty solid start to something…”
“Fuck you, Tristan,” Cody said, and stood up so quickly that his chair almost fell over. He needed to get the hell out of there. “I don’t need your pity. You don’t need to do me a fucking favor, okay?” He gripped the side of the table and tried to collect his thoughts, but he didn’t have much luck. “You think that’s what I want? To be your fucking ball and chain?” He shook his head emphatically. “How’s that going to end? How long ‘til you see some hot piece of ass you can’t resist, and we end up destroying a friendship that’s lasted for eighteen fucking years?”
“Everything all right here?” Seth sounded more amused than concerned as he stepped up to them. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah,” Tristan said. “Could you just give us a couple minutes? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
Seth drew his head back in exaggerated surprise. It would have been funny, if his eyes weren’t so cold. “Oh, are you?” He turned to Cody. “Is that what you’d like, Cody? This ‘couple minutes’ plan doesn’t sound quite right to me -- I don’t think I’ll go on a date with someone and then step aside for a couple minutes while he chats with an old boyfriend. So if I go, it’ll be for the evening. Maybe for good.”
Cody really hadn’t needed the ultimatum, or the extra pressure. “Seth, it’s fine. We’re done here. Why don’t we find somewhere else for dinner?”
“Cody,” Tristan started, but he stopped when he saw Cody’s expression. He stood still as if he was trying to figure out what to do, then stepped backward, out of their way, a helpless look on his face. Cody fought to overcome the almost instinctive urge to reach out to his friend and help him out. That wasn’t working for Cody. He had to stop.
“Let’s go,” Seth said, and he rested his hand on Cody’s shoulder and guided him out of the bar.
Neither of them said anything as they walked to the car and climbed in, and Cody didn’t even think to ask where they were going. He wasn’t too surprised when they pulled into the parking spot behind his apartment. “We need to talk,” Seth said quietly. “We should go upstairs.”
Cody nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to talk about, but at least he knew he’d done nothing wrong. He started up the wooden staircase that ran up the outside of the house; his apartment was in the attic. Seth was right behind him. Cody got to the top and patted his pockets, looking for his keys, and Seth nudged his shoulder. More than a nudge, really -- more like a shove.
“Let’s go, Cody. Stop stalling.”
“Stalling? No, I’m just…”
“Open the fucking door, Cody.” There was something in Seth’s voice that Cody hadn’t heard before. It was chilling.
“What’s going on, man? I mean -- what are you pissed about?”
“I’m pissed because you’re twenty-three years old and you can’t open a fucking door, Cody. I’m pissed because you were flirting with your boyfriend right in front of me, and now you’re trying to pretend nothing happened!” Seth’s voice had started as a hiss, but by the end, he was yelling. Cody was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a good idea to let the guy into his apartment.
“I wasn’t flirting, Seth. And he’s not my boyfriend.” Cody didn’t really have an answer for the bit about the door; he’d found his keys, and he totally could open it now, but he figured he’d wait a bit. “Do you want to go for a walk, or something? You’re pretty wired.”
Seth wasn’t that much bigger than Cody, but Cody wasn’t expecting the punch. He managed to duck a little, so that Seth’s fist caught him on the temple instead of the cheek. And maybe that hurt Seth a little, because he yelled like he’d been stabbed, and then both hands were locked around the back of Cody’s head, pulling his face down into the knee that Seth raised up like a reverse sledge hammer.
Cody felt the pain explode out from his nose, and he couldn’t see properly. Everything was happening way too fast, and for no damned reason. He stumbled, and tried to grab hold of the railing, but he missed. His feet were clumsy, too big, somehow, and he tripped again, but this time there was no floor where he tried to land. He felt himself leaning, falling, and he felt a couple hard thuds on the way down the stairs, and then there was nothing.
***
Cody woke to the sound of beeping and the nasty, too-clean smell of a hospital. He tried to open his eyes, but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He tried again, and got a little success, but the stab of pain produced by the light that made it through his narrowed lids made him wonder why he’d bothered.
“Stay still, Cody. You’re okay.”
Cody let himself relax. Tristan was there. Tristan would take care of him. He decided to keep his eyes shut a while longer, and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, there was action in the room. Someone was touching him, doing something with his arm, and then, damn it! There was a bright light being shone into his over-sensitive eyes. He tried to pull his head away, and managed to get an arm half-way up to his face before it was caught by gentle, firm hands. “Let her see you, Cody. She’s got to make sure you’re okay.”
“It hurts,” Cody managed, but he let Tristan lower his arm back to rest on the bed.
“I know. And she knows. She won’t do more than she has to. Right?”
“Right,” the woman agreed. Cody let his eyes open a little, and he saw a thin black face looking at him kindly. “I just need to run a couple more tests. Okay?”
Cody mumbled something that he assumed would be taken for agreement, then looked over toward Tristan. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Tristan was watching him pretty closely. “Your neighbor saw the whole thing. She said Seth kneed you in the face, and then you fell down the stairs.”
Cody fought to remember. “We were at the bar…”
“Yeah. And I pissed him off, and he took it out on you.”
That didn’t sound quite right. Cody frowned, and tried to remember more. “He was jealous…”
“He’s a control freak,” Tristan corrected. “There was nothing to be jealous about, he just didn’t like you talking to anyone but him.”
“You said -- you said we could be a couple. That’s something to be jealous about.”
Tristan looked like he’d been hoping Cody had forgotten that part of the exchange, but then he shook his head. “But you said no. If he wanted to fight me for moving in on his boy, that’d be one thing. But you said no, Cody. You didn’t give -- well, I don’t care if you’d fucked me right there in the bar, he wouldn’t have had a right to do this to you. But he didn’t even have any good reason to be angry.”
The doctor gave Tristan a look. “Probably this conversation can wait. And the police still want a statement; I think they’d prefer that you not speak to him about the events until they’ve taken care of that.”
“The police?” Cody wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
But Tristan’s nod was emphatic. “Fuck yeah, the police. They’re going to charge the son-of-a-bitch with assault, at least. I think they should try for attempted murder.” His fingers tightened around Cody’s. “You could have died.” He pushed himself to his feet quickly. “I promised your parents I’d call as soon as there was a change. They’re trying to decide whether to fly back from Greece.”
“No,” Cody protested. “They’ve been waiting for this vacation for so long…”
“Yeah, well, I’ll try to calm them down. I’ll maybe make the first part of the call from outside, and then step back in and let you talk to them for a second?”
Cody nodded weakly. He could hold himself together long enough to convince his parents.
“And I’ll tell them that I’ll take you to my place for a couple days? The hospital isn’t going to let you be alone, and if you’re at my place I can still work, and then pop up to check on you.”
It sounded like Tristan had it all figured out, and Cody just nodded. He wasn’t going to fight anything, not for quite a while.
***
“This is total bullshit, Tristan! I’m not a fucking invalid.”
“You slept seventeen hours yesterday. Seventeen hours. That’s not the sign of a healthy body. Not unless you’re a cat.” Tristan leaned in a little closer, obviously not at all worried about Cody’s bad temper. “Are you a cat? Is yoo a pwetty puddy tat? Is yoo?”
“There’s something really wrong with your brain, Tristan. I’m serious -- you should get it checked out. Next time they send me for an MRI, you should go instead.”
“An MRI, or a CAT scan? Did you get it? Did you? Did you catch my clever play on words, yoo widdle puddy tat?”
“I’m going to kill you soon.”
“Wow, catty.” Tristan stood up. “When you get your strength back, you can kill me. It’ll be fun. In the meantime, you’re a fucking invalid. So kick your feet back up on that couch and let me tuck you in, and then I’ll go get us some food. Probably a burger for me, and some blancmange for you.”
“Some what? What do you think I’m eating?”
“Blancmange. I don’t really know what it is -- it’s for sick people, I think. It’s from a book.”
“What book?”
“I don’t know -- probably something with cats.” Tristan seemed ready to drop the subject. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? You’ve got the TV remote? And your phone? And there’s the stuff that I picked up from school for you -- I don’t know, maybe you can use that if you need some help getting to sleep. I think you’ve only slept ten hours or so today, so you’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Go away, Tristan.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Cody was lonely before the apartment door was fully closed. He’d been staying with Tristan for three days, and, excessive sleeping aside, he was pretty much better. The rainbow of bruises on his face was fading to mottled green and yellow, and his ribs -- well, they were still broken, as was his wrist, but they were manageable, at least. The concussion was the worst of it, really, and it was nothing more than an occasional headache, now. It was time to go home. Time to declare himself well and hoist his ass off Tristan’s lumpy couch.
But, damn, he didn’t want to. The time he’d been spending with Tristan was like guzzling water after a week in the desert. He’d needed it. It was a mistake, of course, a tragic slide back from the independence he’d been working toward, but he just couldn’t make himself care. He was an addict. Maybe he’d try to kick the habit again, but not until he was stronger.
With that somewhat comforting thought, he dozed off. When he woke up, the sun’s light had shifted across the living room floor, and Tristan was coming back into the room with a paper bag in his arm. “You want juice, or pop? Or milk… I could put it in a saucer, if you want.”
“I want a beer, asshole.”
“We’ve been through that. No alcohol for you -- doctor’s orders.” Tristan walked into the kitchen and rooted around for a while, then came back with two plates, the bag of food, and two cans of Coke. “Sit up, and I’ll put the plate on your lap.”
“Fuck off, Tristan, I can hold my own food.”
“Okay, seriously, you think it makes you seem healthier to eat your lunch lying down? Really?”
Cody sighed and pushed himself to a sitting position, and Tristan put the plate on the coffee table in front of him. Cody ate a little while Tristan found a spot in the far armchair, which was weird, actually, because there was no table over there for him to rest his food on. He looked totally awkward, trying to balance his food on his knees while holding the can of pop…
“Tristan, what happened to your knuckles?”
Tristan glanced down at his hand, then turned it around and self-consciously rubbed it on his jeans. “I don’t know…”
“Don’t be an idiot. What happened to your knuckles? Tristan, did you get in a fight?” It didn’t make sense, but it was the closest thing to logical that Cody could find. “At one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, you got in a fight?”
Tristan turned to look at Cody, his face a mix of defiance and anxiety. “I fucked up, okay? It wasn’t the plan. I just -- what the fuck was he doing, coming to my bar? He had to know I’d be there. And I tried to walk away, but he made some smart-ass comment, and… I don’t know. I just lost it.”
“Wait, who are you even talking about? Is this… did you fight Seth?”
Tristan’s lack of denial was confirmation enough. “It shouldn’t screw things up for you, right? I mean, it’s two separate things. You talked to the cops, and they’re handling it. If he calls the cops, that’s just me and him, it shouldn’t have anything to do with your charges, right?”
Cody really didn’t think that was what they needed to be talking about. “I guess. Yeah, whatever, that’s fine. But what are you doing, getting in a fight with him? Jesus, Tristan, we’re a little old for bar fights, aren’t we?”
Tristan’s look was quick, as if he was surprised by Cody’s words. He didn’t say anything for a second, then shook his head. “Bad timing,” he muttered, as if talking to himself, but then he looked Cody in the eye. “When you were in the hospital, I went to visit my Grandpa.”
“Yeah?” It was a strange shift in the conversation, but Cody had always liked Pastor Dan. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. I, uh -- I talked to him a bit. You know, about, like -- you and me.”
“Jesus, Tristan, he’s a minister! I don’t think he needs to hear about your casual sex!”
Tristan looked almost hurt. “That’s not the part I talked to him about. I told him I had a friend who wanted to stop fooling around, and wanted to be in a relationship. I told him I’d said I might be interested, but that you’d shut me down. I said you hadn’t believed that I was serious.”
“Yeah?” Cody had no idea where this was going. “And what’d he say?”
“He asked me if I was. If I was serious. And I said…” Tristan glanced at his bruised knuckles, then back up to Cody. “I said I thought maybe I was. But I said you were my best friend, and I really didn’t want to fuck that up.”
“Tristan…” Cody didn’t know what he wanted to say, exactly, and when he didn’t continue, Tristan smiled gently.
“He said I needed to be careful; he said friendship is a beautiful thing, and it needs to be cherished. But…” Tristan’s smile turned wry. “He also said maybe it was time for me to stop sleeping with every pretty boy I saw.”
“Jesus, Tristan. He’s a minister.”
“Well, he said it, not me. I can’t help what he says.” Tristan stood up and crossed to the bookshelf, and pulled out a Bible that Cody hadn’t seen before. “He told me to dig this out… it’s my confirmation Bible. I told him I wasn’t really into the whole religion thing, and he told me to just read one verse. He wrote down the reference for me.”
This was going somewhere strange. Cody had always seen Tristan be respectful of his grandfather’s beliefs, but he’d never seen him take any interest in them. Still, Cody wanted to be supportive. “So, what’s the verse?”
Tristan gave Cody a quick look to be sure he was being sincere, then pulled the ribbon bookmark up and found his place. “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child.” Tristan glanced up, then back to his reading. “But when I became a man, I put away childish things.” He clapped the book shut and put it back on the shelf. “That’s it. That’s all he said. Well, he said some stuff about how I needed to help my mom with the garden, but I really don’t think that was symbolic, or anything. I think she’s just been bitching to him.”
Cody tried to cut through the manic gloss that characterized so many of Tristan’s deeper moments. Well, that characterized his shallower moments, as well, really. “So -- what are you saying? ‘Cause I’m not kidding, Tristan. I’m not going to just turn and look the other way if you start fooling around. If we’re doing this…” He caught himself. What was he even talking about? This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t what he and Tristan were.
But Tristan had set his plate on the floor and crossed to the couch, carefully sitting on the coffee table so he could look Cody in the eye. Up close, Cody could see the bruise that was forming on Tristan’s cheek, and he let his fingers reach out to trace over the surface. Tristan kept still until Cody pulled his hand back, then said, “Is that the only objection? Like, if you trusted me…would you be into it? Or is all that just letting me down easy?”
Cody didn’t quite trust his voice, and it came out a little tight, but still strong. “I’d be into it.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “So -- how come you don’t trust me? I’ve never cheated on anybody; you know that.”
“It’s not… it’s not just cheating, Tristan. I -- fuck.” Cody had no idea what he was doing, but apparently he’d decided to go for it. “I love you, Tristan. I mean, yeah, as a friend, but… I’m in love with you. I have been for quite a while, I think.” He waited for the bolt of lightning, but nothing came, so he made himself continue. “You don’t cheat, but you dump guys after, what… about a month? Two months, max. We’ve been friends for eighteen years -- I don’t want to lose that for two months of something more. Maybe you wouldn’t even dump me, but I’d see that you were losing interest, and I’d get jealous and stupid, and you’d resent me, and I’d get pissy, and you’d get pissy, and we’d end up not friends.” He swallowed hard. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Friends is a lot, and I don’t want to grab for something more, and end up losing what I already have.”
Tristan was listening, and frowning. “You’re a bit of a pessimist, Code. And how come this is all on me? Are we so sure you wouldn’t be the one to get bored? I mean, assuming that either one of us would…”
Cody thought about it. His relationships didn’t last any longer than Tristan’s, after all. Most of his had fizzled away, rather than the spectacular explosions that Tristan often managed, but still, they hadn’t lasted. And he knew why. Maybe he was crazy, but he wanted to tell Tristan the truth. “Do you know what most of the guys said? When they ended things? They said they could tell that I just wasn’t all that into it.” He stopped, and somewhere found the courage, or the insanity, to push the point a little further. “Do you know why I wasn’t all that into it? Do you know who I was comparing them all too?”
Tristan was quiet for long enough to make it clear that he did, in fact, know who Cody had been comparing his boyfriends to. But then he smiled, a glow of happiness that he actually seemed to be trying to fight back if only so that his grin wouldn’t split his face open. “Fuck, Cody -- I think I’ve been doing the same thing.”
Now it was Cody’s turn to take a moment to absorb the new information, and by the time he was ready to say something, Tristan had shifted off the coffee table onto his knees, his face much closer to Cody’s. Close enough for contact, if Tristan just moved a tiny bit further. But he didn’t move. Instead, he said, “I love you too, Cody. For real. Let’s do this. Let’s put away the childish…”
And maybe it wasn’t religiously respectful, but Cody didn’t want to hear more Bible verses, not when he could be kissing Tristan. Tristan didn’t argue, just let Cody control the kiss, giving back as good as he got without pushing for more. Which wasn’t exactly Tristan-like.
Cody pulled away a little. “You having second thoughts already? Why haven’t you gone for full-skin-contact yet?”
Tristan grinned. He was, after all, a fairly enthusiastic proponent of full-skin-contact. “You’re not at full strength, Cody. Those ribs… and your face is still sore, right? I saw you trying to eat your lunch - normal people don’t take a bite of the bun, and then a bite of the burger.” He reached his hands forward, and rubbed them gently on Cody’s thighs. “We’ve got time, Code. We don’t have to rush it.”
“Okay, I’m a bit banged up. But there’s nothing wrong with my dick…”
“Cody, we’ve been through this. There’s plenty wrong with your dick.” Tristan’s words lost any bite they might have had when he kissed Cody gently on the side of his neck, then slid his hands down to tug gently on Cody’s knees, encouraging him to scoot his ass forward on the couch. “I can blow you, okay? We can figure out more as you get your strength back. I don’t want to fuck you while you’re still a cat…”
“That’s good to know. At least I don’t have to worry about losing you to bestiality.” Cody let Tristan rearrange his body, and could feel his cock already swelling in anticipation. It had been too long since they’d been together, too long since Cody had been able to feel perfection. And maybe Tristan was right -- they could hold off on the more involved maneuvers. There was no rush. “I can return the favor. My jaw’s a little sore, but I’ve been drinking out of straws for almost a week, now. Your little finger-dick shouldn’t be much of a challenge…”
Tristan didn’t bother returning the insult. He had Cody’s cock free, now, and he gave the head one of his patented, deep, rolling kisses before grinning up at Cody and getting down to business. Cody let his head slump back on the couch, and rested his uninjured hand gently on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan. Tristan and Cody. There was still some anxiety, still a bit of concern about the gamble they were taking, but for the time-being, at least, all was right with Cody’s world.
***
Cody didn’t drag his ass out of the apartment for three days. Why would he, when everything he needed was there? But two servers at the bar called in sick on Friday night, and they’d already been a little short staffed, so Tristan had reluctantly decided that he really needed to spend the whole night at work. He’d suggested that Cody come down for dinner.
And Cody was glad he had. The patio was full of happy, laughing regulars, and it took Cody ten minutes to fight his way past all their greetings, commiserations, and, strangely, congratulations. Apparently Tristan had been fairly proactive in spreading the word about his new relationship. It made Cody smile.
His smile got even wider when he finally made his way inside and saw Tristan behind the bar, his black bar polo stretching just right across his back as he reached for glasses and bottles. When he turned and saw Cody, he grinned, and it was only then that Cody noticed the hat on Tristan’s head.
He moved closer. It was the same familiar design, the same “Don’t bother…” start, but…
“Tristan,” Cody said, tearing his eyes away from the hat. “Damn, Tristan…”
“I told you I was serious, Code. And, check it out.” Tristan reached underneath the bar and pulled out a matching hat. “Got one for you, too. Actually, I had to put in another order after everyone saw mine. I didn’t know how many guys were…”
But Tristan wasn’t able to finish his sentence, not with Cody leaning over the bar and grabbing hold, pulling their faces together for an awkward, stretching, perfect kiss. Cody didn’t care what Tristan was going to say about other guys. He only cared about Tristan. He cared about Tristan, and his ridiculous, brilliant hat. He pulled away from the kiss just before his back started to spasm from overstretching, and couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he looked down at the hat.
‘Don’t bother - I’m taken,’ the letters read. Cody pulled the hat onto his own head and was only a little surprised to hear the cheers of approval from the bar regulars and staff. He nodded over the uproar, and smiled at Tristan. “You’re damn right you are,” he said, and leaned in for another kiss.
But I do have a NEW extra, if anyone's interested. It's just a fluffy short story that I wrote for the Goodreads m/m group's Hot July Days project. A bit of hurt/comfort, some friends-to-lovers, and some hat-related silliness. Bonus points to people who pick up on the blancmange reference. (Only one reader, one of my betas, has so far...)
TAKEN
“Ah, fuck!” Cody moaned, and he fought to keep his body still, his ass at the exact same angle, so that with the next stroke… “Oh, Jesus, Tristan, just… Oh, yeah…”
“Like this?” Tristan asked. He was a little out of breath but Cody could still hear the teasing in his voice. “You want it like this?”
“Shut up, you… oh… you smug bastard… oh, fuck, yeah… yeah…”
“You need to watch that potty mouth, Code.”
“Fuck you… oh, fuck…”
“Fuck you, I think you mean.” Tristan was too controlled, too smug, too… oh, Jesus, too perfect at this. Cody stopped even trying to have coherent thoughts, stopped trying to maintain any level of dignity, and gave in to the sensations. Every stroke of Tristan’s beautiful cock brought Cody closer to the edge, but he fought it, tried to hold it off, tried to keep himself on the perfect, exhilarating precipice for just a little longer…
“Oh, fuck…” he managed, and then his voice was lost as his orgasm washed over him and swept him away with it.
He was vaguely aware of Tristan still slamming away, but by the time Cody was coherent enough to do anything to help, Tristan was shuddering, his fingers spasming on Cody’s hips as he drove deep one more time and then stilled.
Tristan slumped over Cody’s back and nuzzled in so that his stubbled cheek was against the sensitive skin of Cody’s neck. “Damn, Code. Why don’t you always bottom?”
Cody snorted and shifted away, Tristan lifting himself enough to let Cody roll over onto his back. “Yeah. ‘Cause you need another reason to go strutting around like you’re the top stud of the city.”
“Code, I can still strut even after I bottom -- your dick isn’t big enough to leave much of an impact, you know.” Tristan leaned over and lifted the bottle of beer off the nightstand, took a swallow, and then offered the bottle to Cody.
Cody took the beer and sat up enough to drain the last bit without spilling it all over himself. He didn’t bother to respond to Tristan’s insult; they’d been maligning each other’s dicks since puberty, but it had never seemed to stop either of them from taking pleasure in what the other had to offer.
“Hey, did you meet Matt’s new friend from work? Sean?” Tristan nodded in satisfaction. “I think I’m in there. I totally could have closed the deal tonight, but he left early.”
Cody tried to keep his body relaxed. It wasn’t like he’d been fooling himself about what this was. Not anymore. “If he left early, that doesn’t sound like he was all that into you.”
“Nah, he was. He was just being coy, or something. Playing hard to get. But he had his hand on my thigh for, like, half-an-hour right before he left. Like, upper thigh. There was contact with the unmentionables, if you know what I mean.”
“’Unmentionables’ are underwear, Tristan. It’s not really that exciting if he touched your underwear.”
“Okay, Mr. English Major. He was touching my junk, is that better?”
“He touched it, and then left? Damn -- that sucks, man. I mean… you’re not that small. I’m sure you could have found a way to make it work.”
“Code, that line would be a hell of a lot more effective if I hadn’t just fucked you into a hands-free orgasm.” Tristan took a moment to enjoy his victory, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You’re still on for tomorrow, right? Kelly’s barbecue?” He was looking for his underwear; Cody didn’t bother to point out that it was still bunched up with his jeans.
“Yeah.” He wanted to say something. Wanted to reach over, pull Tristan back into the bed, snuggle into him and hold on. He wanted to keep Tristan there forever, just the two of them, talking and fooling around and then talking some more. “You want to stick around? We could watch some TV, have another round…” God, he was pathetic, waiting there like a damn puppy hoping its owner would give it a scratch behind its ears.
“Nah. I should go. You need your beauty sleep, after all. Like, you really need it.” Tristan found his underwear and stood to pull it on, and Cody let himself stare a little. Tristan was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt to look at him, sometimes, but it was the kind of hurt that Cody couldn’t stay away from.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Jesus. Cody really hadn’t known he was going to say that. He’d thought about it, sure, but he hadn’t made a decision, had he? Or at least, he hadn’t found the strength to follow through on the only decision that made any sense.
Tristan was giving him a weird look. “Can’t do what?”
Cody wanted to back down. God, he wanted that so much; he could just say it was nothing, say he didn’t know what he was talking about. Tristan was used to Cody saying weird things. He wouldn’t mind. But Cody had been putting off the inevitable for too damned long, and he needed to see this through. “You and me. I mean -- you’re my best friend. I don’t want that to change. But I don’t think we should fool around anymore.” Ninety-eight percent of Cody’s brain was screaming in panicked dismay at the two percent that seemed to be in control of his mouth. It wasn’t perfect, just being fuck buddies, but, damn it, it was better than nothing! Better than never getting to see Tristan’s beautiful body, never getting to touch his warm golden skin…
Tristan had his jeans on, but sat back down on the bed with his shirt still in his hands. “What are you talking about? Is this because of that Seth guy?”
That would be an easy excuse. But if Cody was going to do this, which apparently he was, then he should do it right. He should be honest. “Not really. It’s just -- I mean, yeah, kind of him. But it’s more -- I -- I just -- I’m looking for something more. Something serious. And I don’t think I’m going to find it if I’m still fooling around with you.” I’m not going to find it if I’m still in love with you.
Tristan frowned. “So it is the Seth guy. I mean -- we’ve taken breaks before, when we’re dating people. That’s okay… the way you were talking, I thought you meant forever.”
“It’s -- okay, A, it’s just ‘Seth’, not ‘the Seth guy’. It’s his name, not a description or something. And, B -- does it not seem fucked up to you, that you’re just assuming that he and I aren’t going to work out, and I’ll be back to fucking around with you in no time? Like, does that not seem like a pretty unhealthy outlook for a relationship?”
Tristan looked like he was trying to understand. “Yeah, okay. But -- that’s what’s always happened before, right?”
Cody sighed. Yeah, that was what had always happened before. Because no guy could ever live up to the standard Tristan had set. Not in bed, certainly, but not out of bed, either. “That’s the problem. I think I’ve been treating other people like they’re temporary, and treating this like it’s permanent. I need to -- I think I need to get rid of this, so that I don’t have a backup plan. I have to be willing to put 100% into something new.”
“With Seth.”
“Jesus, Tristan, stop fixating on him. I mean -- yeah, maybe. I don’t know. But that’s not the point. The point is that I want something more, and I can’t get it from you, and I can’t get it from anyone else, either, not while I’m still…” Jesus, he’d almost said it. Almost admitted that he was in love with his best friend. “Not while I have this to fall back on.”
Tristan had an expression on his face that Cody couldn’t read, and that was unusual. They’d been friends since kindergarten, since Tristan had stolen Cody’s Lego and then shared his cookies to make up for it. Eighteen years later, they’d made it through high school and university together, they’d dealt with sexual awakenings and homophobia and every other damn thing, and now Cody suddenly couldn’t tell what Tristan was thinking? The thought of losing their emotional bond was even more terrifying than the thought of never being able to touch Tristan’s body again. Cody couldn’t go through with it. He had his mouth open, ready to take it all back, but Tristan stood up abruptly.
“Yeah, okay.” He pulled his shirt on over his head. “I get it. Okay.” He stood up and looked around for his socks.
Cody felt a churning pit opening up in his stomach. What had he done? “But we’re still on for Kelly’s, right? The barbecue?”
There was no pause, no awkward moment, but there was something almost mechanical about Tristan’s nod. “Yeah. For sure. But -- maybe you want to go with Seth? I can take Sean, or somebody else -- no worries, man, if you want.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter who drives with who, right? I’ll give you a call tomorrow, sort it out.” Cody tried desperately to keep his voice level and relaxed, tried to tell himself that everything was still fine.
“Yeah, okay.” Tristan pulled his second sock on. He’d left his shoes by the door, and he stood to go. “See you, Cody.” And then he was gone, out the bedroom door, down the short hall to the outside door of the apartment. Cody waited and listened, and when he heard the door shut with a soft click, he let himself slide down into the bed. His apartment had never felt so empty.
***
“Are those really appropriate?” It was Seth’s first trip to the bar, and he didn’t like the hats. Cody wasn’t too surprised. A lot of people weren’t crazy about them, at first. “Doesn’t it just feed into the stereotype? Gay men are predators, right? The poor innocent straight guys need to be protected from our endless harassment.”
Cody shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. Seriously.” He looked across the bar at the two guys watching the big screen TV. They were both wearing bright red baseball caps with the words ‘Don’t bother - I’m straight’ written on them. Cody could see how someone might get the wrong impression. “It’s a service to the gay customers. Well, to Tristan, mostly…”
Seth raised an eyebrow.
“When he opened this place, he wanted it to be somewhere that he’d want to hang out. He likes guys, and he likes sports. So it’s a gay sports bar. Makes sense, right? But it’s also the best sports bar in the area, so he ended up getting a lot of straight guys coming in. Not the homophobic assholes, just guys who want to watch the game on a big screen with good food and cheap beer.” Cody paused to see Seth’s reaction.
“Okay…”
“But it’s Tristan, right? And his friends. So there was a pretty good pick-up scene going on. And it was getting pretty frustrating, because guys were buying drinks for guys, spending some serious time talking to them -- and then finding out that they were straight. Super inefficient.” Cody had always thought the hat plan was pretty ingenious, but he was beginning to wonder if maybe he had misjudged. Seth was working on his PhD in the same department where Cody was getting his Masters; Seth was pretty damned smart, and he didn’t seem too impressed. Still, Cody kept trying. “So he found somewhere that makes hats for cheap, and he offers them for free to anyone who orders a pitcher, or a meal, or something. They’ve got the bar’s name on the back, so they’re good advertising, not too expensive. And the regulars just bring their own hats back each time.”
Cody knew he’d made the best case he could, but Seth still looked vaguely disapproving, and the familiar tension began to spread through Cody’s body. He was trying so hard to make this work. He wasn’t over Tristan yet, not by a long shot, so it wasn’t fair to expect Seth to make him happy. Nobody could make him happy, not yet. But he wished he was doing a better job of being who Seth wanted him to be.
“It wouldn’t have been easier to have communicated in words? If these guys aren’t able to speak to each other, should they really be thinking about having sex with each other?” Seth smiled gently. “We managed to find each other without silly hats, didn’t we?”
Cody nodded, and he was reassured when Seth reached under the table to find his hand, holding it softly. Maybe he hadn’t messed things up too badly. But then Seth kept going. “Now, what do you suppose our chances are of finding something to eat here that isn’t dripping with grease?”
“Pretty good, I’d say.” It was Tristan, notepad in hand, standing by their table. He didn’t usually serve customers, but he generally took Cody’s orders; it made it easier to suggest weird, creative additions to the food, some of which ended up being totally delicious. “Our grilled salmon is pretty popular with people watching their weight. The pasta is good if you’re not going low carb, and the roast chicken breast isn’t exciting, but it’s pretty healthy.” Tristan’s smile was hard to read. “You’ll want to stay away from the nachos, though.”
The nachos. Cody’s favorite, as Tristan knew very well. Another one of Tristan’s stupid little digs at this relationship. It had been almost a month since Cody had made his decision, and things with Tristan had been fine, on the surface, but not quite right underneath. In the past, they’d always supported each other’s attempts at romance, even those that kept them out of each other’s beds. But this time, it seemed like Tristan had decided that Seth wasn’t good for Cody. Which wasn’t fair, at all, because Tristan had only seen Seth in a very limited set of circumstances. At house parties, or out goofing around with the guys, and now, in a damn sports bar; all the places that Tristan was comfortable, but Seth clearly wasn’t. So, yeah, maybe Seth came across as being a bit stuffy, but that didn’t mean he was always like that.
But he wasn’t really doing too much to help himself in the current situation. “Salmon?” Seth smiled across the table at Cody. “Do you think it will compare to the exquisite flavors we were treated to last night at Anton’s?”
Cody was fighting to find an answer, to figure out the words that would defend Tristan without angering Seth, but Tristan was too quick for him. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard our salmon called ‘exquisite’, man. We hear ‘fucking good’ pretty often, but that’s a bit different. Do you guys want some time to think it over?”
Seth squeezed Cody’s fingers just a little too tight. “Actually, I think I’ll visit the bathroom; Cody, why don’t you order for me? You know the menu, right? I mean, coming here was your idea, after all.” He stood up and edged out past Tristan, who didn’t move aside quite as much as he probably should have. “I’m sure you’ll find the best choice.” And he was gone. The tension in Cody’s guts flared. Another damned test. And given that Seth had already made it clear that the menu was beneath him, it was another damned test that Cody was destined to fail.
Tristan slid into Seth’s abandoned chair, and stared across the table meaningfully. “You’re sure about this guy, Cody?” He squirmed a little, as if deciding how much to say. “He’s -- really? He’s what you want? I mean -- he’s the guy who makes you decide to quit you-and-me?” He caught himself. “Shit, no, sorry. That’s not what I meant. This isn’t about that. This is just about you, okay? I’m just trying to be a friend.”
Cody tried to fight the emotion back, but he wasn’t totally successful. “It’s totally about you and me,” he practically hissed. “I can’t -- if this doesn’t work with Seth, I’m just going to fall right back into that shit with you, and it’s going nowhere! I want something to go somewhere, Tristan. Keeping everything casual was great, when I was a kid, but I want something more, now.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, yeah, but not just for the sake of it. Like…” He ran his hand over his face in his familiar gesture of frustration. “You shouldn’t be with an asshole, just to stay away from me. If you want -- I mean, if it helps, I can just say no. We’re done. I don’t care if you’re with someone or not, you and me are not fucking around anymore. Okay?” Tristan cast a furtive glance over his shoulder toward the bathroom, and then turned back, looking as tense as Cody felt. “Or, you know… if… I mean, if it’s just a relationship that you want… we could try that. You and me. I mean, you’re my best friend, right? And the sex is awesome. That sounds like a pretty solid start to something…”
“Fuck you, Tristan,” Cody said, and stood up so quickly that his chair almost fell over. He needed to get the hell out of there. “I don’t need your pity. You don’t need to do me a fucking favor, okay?” He gripped the side of the table and tried to collect his thoughts, but he didn’t have much luck. “You think that’s what I want? To be your fucking ball and chain?” He shook his head emphatically. “How’s that going to end? How long ‘til you see some hot piece of ass you can’t resist, and we end up destroying a friendship that’s lasted for eighteen fucking years?”
“Everything all right here?” Seth sounded more amused than concerned as he stepped up to them. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah,” Tristan said. “Could you just give us a couple minutes? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
Seth drew his head back in exaggerated surprise. It would have been funny, if his eyes weren’t so cold. “Oh, are you?” He turned to Cody. “Is that what you’d like, Cody? This ‘couple minutes’ plan doesn’t sound quite right to me -- I don’t think I’ll go on a date with someone and then step aside for a couple minutes while he chats with an old boyfriend. So if I go, it’ll be for the evening. Maybe for good.”
Cody really hadn’t needed the ultimatum, or the extra pressure. “Seth, it’s fine. We’re done here. Why don’t we find somewhere else for dinner?”
“Cody,” Tristan started, but he stopped when he saw Cody’s expression. He stood still as if he was trying to figure out what to do, then stepped backward, out of their way, a helpless look on his face. Cody fought to overcome the almost instinctive urge to reach out to his friend and help him out. That wasn’t working for Cody. He had to stop.
“Let’s go,” Seth said, and he rested his hand on Cody’s shoulder and guided him out of the bar.
Neither of them said anything as they walked to the car and climbed in, and Cody didn’t even think to ask where they were going. He wasn’t too surprised when they pulled into the parking spot behind his apartment. “We need to talk,” Seth said quietly. “We should go upstairs.”
Cody nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to talk about, but at least he knew he’d done nothing wrong. He started up the wooden staircase that ran up the outside of the house; his apartment was in the attic. Seth was right behind him. Cody got to the top and patted his pockets, looking for his keys, and Seth nudged his shoulder. More than a nudge, really -- more like a shove.
“Let’s go, Cody. Stop stalling.”
“Stalling? No, I’m just…”
“Open the fucking door, Cody.” There was something in Seth’s voice that Cody hadn’t heard before. It was chilling.
“What’s going on, man? I mean -- what are you pissed about?”
“I’m pissed because you’re twenty-three years old and you can’t open a fucking door, Cody. I’m pissed because you were flirting with your boyfriend right in front of me, and now you’re trying to pretend nothing happened!” Seth’s voice had started as a hiss, but by the end, he was yelling. Cody was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a good idea to let the guy into his apartment.
“I wasn’t flirting, Seth. And he’s not my boyfriend.” Cody didn’t really have an answer for the bit about the door; he’d found his keys, and he totally could open it now, but he figured he’d wait a bit. “Do you want to go for a walk, or something? You’re pretty wired.”
Seth wasn’t that much bigger than Cody, but Cody wasn’t expecting the punch. He managed to duck a little, so that Seth’s fist caught him on the temple instead of the cheek. And maybe that hurt Seth a little, because he yelled like he’d been stabbed, and then both hands were locked around the back of Cody’s head, pulling his face down into the knee that Seth raised up like a reverse sledge hammer.
Cody felt the pain explode out from his nose, and he couldn’t see properly. Everything was happening way too fast, and for no damned reason. He stumbled, and tried to grab hold of the railing, but he missed. His feet were clumsy, too big, somehow, and he tripped again, but this time there was no floor where he tried to land. He felt himself leaning, falling, and he felt a couple hard thuds on the way down the stairs, and then there was nothing.
***
Cody woke to the sound of beeping and the nasty, too-clean smell of a hospital. He tried to open his eyes, but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He tried again, and got a little success, but the stab of pain produced by the light that made it through his narrowed lids made him wonder why he’d bothered.
“Stay still, Cody. You’re okay.”
Cody let himself relax. Tristan was there. Tristan would take care of him. He decided to keep his eyes shut a while longer, and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, there was action in the room. Someone was touching him, doing something with his arm, and then, damn it! There was a bright light being shone into his over-sensitive eyes. He tried to pull his head away, and managed to get an arm half-way up to his face before it was caught by gentle, firm hands. “Let her see you, Cody. She’s got to make sure you’re okay.”
“It hurts,” Cody managed, but he let Tristan lower his arm back to rest on the bed.
“I know. And she knows. She won’t do more than she has to. Right?”
“Right,” the woman agreed. Cody let his eyes open a little, and he saw a thin black face looking at him kindly. “I just need to run a couple more tests. Okay?”
Cody mumbled something that he assumed would be taken for agreement, then looked over toward Tristan. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Tristan was watching him pretty closely. “Your neighbor saw the whole thing. She said Seth kneed you in the face, and then you fell down the stairs.”
Cody fought to remember. “We were at the bar…”
“Yeah. And I pissed him off, and he took it out on you.”
That didn’t sound quite right. Cody frowned, and tried to remember more. “He was jealous…”
“He’s a control freak,” Tristan corrected. “There was nothing to be jealous about, he just didn’t like you talking to anyone but him.”
“You said -- you said we could be a couple. That’s something to be jealous about.”
Tristan looked like he’d been hoping Cody had forgotten that part of the exchange, but then he shook his head. “But you said no. If he wanted to fight me for moving in on his boy, that’d be one thing. But you said no, Cody. You didn’t give -- well, I don’t care if you’d fucked me right there in the bar, he wouldn’t have had a right to do this to you. But he didn’t even have any good reason to be angry.”
The doctor gave Tristan a look. “Probably this conversation can wait. And the police still want a statement; I think they’d prefer that you not speak to him about the events until they’ve taken care of that.”
“The police?” Cody wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
But Tristan’s nod was emphatic. “Fuck yeah, the police. They’re going to charge the son-of-a-bitch with assault, at least. I think they should try for attempted murder.” His fingers tightened around Cody’s. “You could have died.” He pushed himself to his feet quickly. “I promised your parents I’d call as soon as there was a change. They’re trying to decide whether to fly back from Greece.”
“No,” Cody protested. “They’ve been waiting for this vacation for so long…”
“Yeah, well, I’ll try to calm them down. I’ll maybe make the first part of the call from outside, and then step back in and let you talk to them for a second?”
Cody nodded weakly. He could hold himself together long enough to convince his parents.
“And I’ll tell them that I’ll take you to my place for a couple days? The hospital isn’t going to let you be alone, and if you’re at my place I can still work, and then pop up to check on you.”
It sounded like Tristan had it all figured out, and Cody just nodded. He wasn’t going to fight anything, not for quite a while.
***
“This is total bullshit, Tristan! I’m not a fucking invalid.”
“You slept seventeen hours yesterday. Seventeen hours. That’s not the sign of a healthy body. Not unless you’re a cat.” Tristan leaned in a little closer, obviously not at all worried about Cody’s bad temper. “Are you a cat? Is yoo a pwetty puddy tat? Is yoo?”
“There’s something really wrong with your brain, Tristan. I’m serious -- you should get it checked out. Next time they send me for an MRI, you should go instead.”
“An MRI, or a CAT scan? Did you get it? Did you? Did you catch my clever play on words, yoo widdle puddy tat?”
“I’m going to kill you soon.”
“Wow, catty.” Tristan stood up. “When you get your strength back, you can kill me. It’ll be fun. In the meantime, you’re a fucking invalid. So kick your feet back up on that couch and let me tuck you in, and then I’ll go get us some food. Probably a burger for me, and some blancmange for you.”
“Some what? What do you think I’m eating?”
“Blancmange. I don’t really know what it is -- it’s for sick people, I think. It’s from a book.”
“What book?”
“I don’t know -- probably something with cats.” Tristan seemed ready to drop the subject. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? You’ve got the TV remote? And your phone? And there’s the stuff that I picked up from school for you -- I don’t know, maybe you can use that if you need some help getting to sleep. I think you’ve only slept ten hours or so today, so you’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Go away, Tristan.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Cody was lonely before the apartment door was fully closed. He’d been staying with Tristan for three days, and, excessive sleeping aside, he was pretty much better. The rainbow of bruises on his face was fading to mottled green and yellow, and his ribs -- well, they were still broken, as was his wrist, but they were manageable, at least. The concussion was the worst of it, really, and it was nothing more than an occasional headache, now. It was time to go home. Time to declare himself well and hoist his ass off Tristan’s lumpy couch.
But, damn, he didn’t want to. The time he’d been spending with Tristan was like guzzling water after a week in the desert. He’d needed it. It was a mistake, of course, a tragic slide back from the independence he’d been working toward, but he just couldn’t make himself care. He was an addict. Maybe he’d try to kick the habit again, but not until he was stronger.
With that somewhat comforting thought, he dozed off. When he woke up, the sun’s light had shifted across the living room floor, and Tristan was coming back into the room with a paper bag in his arm. “You want juice, or pop? Or milk… I could put it in a saucer, if you want.”
“I want a beer, asshole.”
“We’ve been through that. No alcohol for you -- doctor’s orders.” Tristan walked into the kitchen and rooted around for a while, then came back with two plates, the bag of food, and two cans of Coke. “Sit up, and I’ll put the plate on your lap.”
“Fuck off, Tristan, I can hold my own food.”
“Okay, seriously, you think it makes you seem healthier to eat your lunch lying down? Really?”
Cody sighed and pushed himself to a sitting position, and Tristan put the plate on the coffee table in front of him. Cody ate a little while Tristan found a spot in the far armchair, which was weird, actually, because there was no table over there for him to rest his food on. He looked totally awkward, trying to balance his food on his knees while holding the can of pop…
“Tristan, what happened to your knuckles?”
Tristan glanced down at his hand, then turned it around and self-consciously rubbed it on his jeans. “I don’t know…”
“Don’t be an idiot. What happened to your knuckles? Tristan, did you get in a fight?” It didn’t make sense, but it was the closest thing to logical that Cody could find. “At one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, you got in a fight?”
Tristan turned to look at Cody, his face a mix of defiance and anxiety. “I fucked up, okay? It wasn’t the plan. I just -- what the fuck was he doing, coming to my bar? He had to know I’d be there. And I tried to walk away, but he made some smart-ass comment, and… I don’t know. I just lost it.”
“Wait, who are you even talking about? Is this… did you fight Seth?”
Tristan’s lack of denial was confirmation enough. “It shouldn’t screw things up for you, right? I mean, it’s two separate things. You talked to the cops, and they’re handling it. If he calls the cops, that’s just me and him, it shouldn’t have anything to do with your charges, right?”
Cody really didn’t think that was what they needed to be talking about. “I guess. Yeah, whatever, that’s fine. But what are you doing, getting in a fight with him? Jesus, Tristan, we’re a little old for bar fights, aren’t we?”
Tristan’s look was quick, as if he was surprised by Cody’s words. He didn’t say anything for a second, then shook his head. “Bad timing,” he muttered, as if talking to himself, but then he looked Cody in the eye. “When you were in the hospital, I went to visit my Grandpa.”
“Yeah?” It was a strange shift in the conversation, but Cody had always liked Pastor Dan. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. I, uh -- I talked to him a bit. You know, about, like -- you and me.”
“Jesus, Tristan, he’s a minister! I don’t think he needs to hear about your casual sex!”
Tristan looked almost hurt. “That’s not the part I talked to him about. I told him I had a friend who wanted to stop fooling around, and wanted to be in a relationship. I told him I’d said I might be interested, but that you’d shut me down. I said you hadn’t believed that I was serious.”
“Yeah?” Cody had no idea where this was going. “And what’d he say?”
“He asked me if I was. If I was serious. And I said…” Tristan glanced at his bruised knuckles, then back up to Cody. “I said I thought maybe I was. But I said you were my best friend, and I really didn’t want to fuck that up.”
“Tristan…” Cody didn’t know what he wanted to say, exactly, and when he didn’t continue, Tristan smiled gently.
“He said I needed to be careful; he said friendship is a beautiful thing, and it needs to be cherished. But…” Tristan’s smile turned wry. “He also said maybe it was time for me to stop sleeping with every pretty boy I saw.”
“Jesus, Tristan. He’s a minister.”
“Well, he said it, not me. I can’t help what he says.” Tristan stood up and crossed to the bookshelf, and pulled out a Bible that Cody hadn’t seen before. “He told me to dig this out… it’s my confirmation Bible. I told him I wasn’t really into the whole religion thing, and he told me to just read one verse. He wrote down the reference for me.”
This was going somewhere strange. Cody had always seen Tristan be respectful of his grandfather’s beliefs, but he’d never seen him take any interest in them. Still, Cody wanted to be supportive. “So, what’s the verse?”
Tristan gave Cody a quick look to be sure he was being sincere, then pulled the ribbon bookmark up and found his place. “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child.” Tristan glanced up, then back to his reading. “But when I became a man, I put away childish things.” He clapped the book shut and put it back on the shelf. “That’s it. That’s all he said. Well, he said some stuff about how I needed to help my mom with the garden, but I really don’t think that was symbolic, or anything. I think she’s just been bitching to him.”
Cody tried to cut through the manic gloss that characterized so many of Tristan’s deeper moments. Well, that characterized his shallower moments, as well, really. “So -- what are you saying? ‘Cause I’m not kidding, Tristan. I’m not going to just turn and look the other way if you start fooling around. If we’re doing this…” He caught himself. What was he even talking about? This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t what he and Tristan were.
But Tristan had set his plate on the floor and crossed to the couch, carefully sitting on the coffee table so he could look Cody in the eye. Up close, Cody could see the bruise that was forming on Tristan’s cheek, and he let his fingers reach out to trace over the surface. Tristan kept still until Cody pulled his hand back, then said, “Is that the only objection? Like, if you trusted me…would you be into it? Or is all that just letting me down easy?”
Cody didn’t quite trust his voice, and it came out a little tight, but still strong. “I’d be into it.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “So -- how come you don’t trust me? I’ve never cheated on anybody; you know that.”
“It’s not… it’s not just cheating, Tristan. I -- fuck.” Cody had no idea what he was doing, but apparently he’d decided to go for it. “I love you, Tristan. I mean, yeah, as a friend, but… I’m in love with you. I have been for quite a while, I think.” He waited for the bolt of lightning, but nothing came, so he made himself continue. “You don’t cheat, but you dump guys after, what… about a month? Two months, max. We’ve been friends for eighteen years -- I don’t want to lose that for two months of something more. Maybe you wouldn’t even dump me, but I’d see that you were losing interest, and I’d get jealous and stupid, and you’d resent me, and I’d get pissy, and you’d get pissy, and we’d end up not friends.” He swallowed hard. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Friends is a lot, and I don’t want to grab for something more, and end up losing what I already have.”
Tristan was listening, and frowning. “You’re a bit of a pessimist, Code. And how come this is all on me? Are we so sure you wouldn’t be the one to get bored? I mean, assuming that either one of us would…”
Cody thought about it. His relationships didn’t last any longer than Tristan’s, after all. Most of his had fizzled away, rather than the spectacular explosions that Tristan often managed, but still, they hadn’t lasted. And he knew why. Maybe he was crazy, but he wanted to tell Tristan the truth. “Do you know what most of the guys said? When they ended things? They said they could tell that I just wasn’t all that into it.” He stopped, and somewhere found the courage, or the insanity, to push the point a little further. “Do you know why I wasn’t all that into it? Do you know who I was comparing them all too?”
Tristan was quiet for long enough to make it clear that he did, in fact, know who Cody had been comparing his boyfriends to. But then he smiled, a glow of happiness that he actually seemed to be trying to fight back if only so that his grin wouldn’t split his face open. “Fuck, Cody -- I think I’ve been doing the same thing.”
Now it was Cody’s turn to take a moment to absorb the new information, and by the time he was ready to say something, Tristan had shifted off the coffee table onto his knees, his face much closer to Cody’s. Close enough for contact, if Tristan just moved a tiny bit further. But he didn’t move. Instead, he said, “I love you too, Cody. For real. Let’s do this. Let’s put away the childish…”
And maybe it wasn’t religiously respectful, but Cody didn’t want to hear more Bible verses, not when he could be kissing Tristan. Tristan didn’t argue, just let Cody control the kiss, giving back as good as he got without pushing for more. Which wasn’t exactly Tristan-like.
Cody pulled away a little. “You having second thoughts already? Why haven’t you gone for full-skin-contact yet?”
Tristan grinned. He was, after all, a fairly enthusiastic proponent of full-skin-contact. “You’re not at full strength, Cody. Those ribs… and your face is still sore, right? I saw you trying to eat your lunch - normal people don’t take a bite of the bun, and then a bite of the burger.” He reached his hands forward, and rubbed them gently on Cody’s thighs. “We’ve got time, Code. We don’t have to rush it.”
“Okay, I’m a bit banged up. But there’s nothing wrong with my dick…”
“Cody, we’ve been through this. There’s plenty wrong with your dick.” Tristan’s words lost any bite they might have had when he kissed Cody gently on the side of his neck, then slid his hands down to tug gently on Cody’s knees, encouraging him to scoot his ass forward on the couch. “I can blow you, okay? We can figure out more as you get your strength back. I don’t want to fuck you while you’re still a cat…”
“That’s good to know. At least I don’t have to worry about losing you to bestiality.” Cody let Tristan rearrange his body, and could feel his cock already swelling in anticipation. It had been too long since they’d been together, too long since Cody had been able to feel perfection. And maybe Tristan was right -- they could hold off on the more involved maneuvers. There was no rush. “I can return the favor. My jaw’s a little sore, but I’ve been drinking out of straws for almost a week, now. Your little finger-dick shouldn’t be much of a challenge…”
Tristan didn’t bother returning the insult. He had Cody’s cock free, now, and he gave the head one of his patented, deep, rolling kisses before grinning up at Cody and getting down to business. Cody let his head slump back on the couch, and rested his uninjured hand gently on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan. Tristan and Cody. There was still some anxiety, still a bit of concern about the gamble they were taking, but for the time-being, at least, all was right with Cody’s world.
***
Cody didn’t drag his ass out of the apartment for three days. Why would he, when everything he needed was there? But two servers at the bar called in sick on Friday night, and they’d already been a little short staffed, so Tristan had reluctantly decided that he really needed to spend the whole night at work. He’d suggested that Cody come down for dinner.
And Cody was glad he had. The patio was full of happy, laughing regulars, and it took Cody ten minutes to fight his way past all their greetings, commiserations, and, strangely, congratulations. Apparently Tristan had been fairly proactive in spreading the word about his new relationship. It made Cody smile.
His smile got even wider when he finally made his way inside and saw Tristan behind the bar, his black bar polo stretching just right across his back as he reached for glasses and bottles. When he turned and saw Cody, he grinned, and it was only then that Cody noticed the hat on Tristan’s head.
He moved closer. It was the same familiar design, the same “Don’t bother…” start, but…
“Tristan,” Cody said, tearing his eyes away from the hat. “Damn, Tristan…”
“I told you I was serious, Code. And, check it out.” Tristan reached underneath the bar and pulled out a matching hat. “Got one for you, too. Actually, I had to put in another order after everyone saw mine. I didn’t know how many guys were…”
But Tristan wasn’t able to finish his sentence, not with Cody leaning over the bar and grabbing hold, pulling their faces together for an awkward, stretching, perfect kiss. Cody didn’t care what Tristan was going to say about other guys. He only cared about Tristan. He cared about Tristan, and his ridiculous, brilliant hat. He pulled away from the kiss just before his back started to spasm from overstretching, and couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he looked down at the hat.
‘Don’t bother - I’m taken,’ the letters read. Cody pulled the hat onto his own head and was only a little surprised to hear the cheers of approval from the bar regulars and staff. He nodded over the uproar, and smiled at Tristan. “You’re damn right you are,” he said, and leaned in for another kiss.
