His chance came later, when Lennox had bounded over to him to demand why his trash was all so much more boring than everyone else’s. “I dunno,” Eamon replied. He wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “More importantly: while I’ve got you here, you should tell me all the embarrassing stuff about Scott.”
Lennox looked like all of his birthday’s had come at once. “We thought you’d never ask,” he hissed gleefully “We’ll tell you everything. What do you want to know?”
“Just, whatever.” Eamon shrugged, and grinned at Lennox. “What do you think I should know?”
“You’re right!” Lennox appeared to have been struck by lightning. He yelped and called out, “Okay, guys! Quick huddle!”
It seemed a mark of how much respect underlay the joking demeanor of Scott’s friends that they all instantly converged on the spot, looking – according to temperament – worried and excited.
“Important question, guys,” Lennox said. “What are the best Scotty stories? Eamon needs to know.”
Tony snorted. “I thought you had something important for us.”
“This is important,” Kieran corrected him. He hefted the bag of trash up and down as he thought. “Huh. The best Scotty stories.”
“It’s so important!” Lennox agreed. “How can Eamon know Scott and not know about the time that he tried to dye his own hair with sharpies in middle school?”
“We should be talking him up!” Tony hissed. “Uh, Eamon, did he tell you how he started the Cycle Works out of his parents’ garage?”
“A little bit,” Eamon admitted. “But I’d love to hear it from you guys too.”
“He called it Sellis Creek Cycle Works right away,” Lennox said instantly, looking gleeful. “Even when he was getting maybe one repair a month...”
Still working on their trash clean-up, the group drifted apart a bit as Lennox talked and Tony interjected. Lennox’s story wasn’t that different from the way Scott had explained things to Eamon, but it was nice to hear from his friends. Lennox never missed a chance to talk about something ridiculous that Scott had done – like start a website with a stock image of a storefront he hadn’t actually rented yet – but his pride in his friend still shone through, turning every story into a little gift for Eamon that he hadn’t quite expected.
He wasn’t sure he’d have dared ask quite so many obvious questions in front of Scott’s face, and for that, he was almost grateful for whatever ill-fortune had left him alone with Scott’s friends.
“You’re not even properly embarrassed for him,” Lennox complained after a while.
“What?” Eamon almost jumped in surprise, so caught up in the tales Lennox was spinning.
“Anyone else would be wincing all over the place at Scotty’s mistakes,” Lennox said, “But you’re still mooning all over him even though I think I’m pretty clearly explaining that he’s a chump.”
“I don’t think that’s what you mean at all,” Eamon said, laughing.
“Besides,” Tony put in, “We already knew he was all over Scotty, dipshit.”
“Oh yeah?” Lennnox said, while Eamon considered the possibility of sinking directly into the earth beneath his feet.
“Why the fuck else would he be out here today?” Tony said. “Obviously, the dude’s in love.”
They both turned mildly evil grins in Eamon’s direction. He thought some more about the possibilities of disappearing instantly. He failed to disappear.
“What?” he said instead.
“Nothing!” they chorused.
It wasn’t that Eamon didn’t know that he was falling for Scott. But how the fuck was a guy supposed to tell his boyfriend’s friends that? He hadn’t even told Scott that he loved him yet, though the urge was pressing in on him day by day. He’d known from so early on that he was toppling head over heels for the guy, it had seemed redundant to say it aloud, and then it had seemed too soon, and now... He was waiting for his moment.
A moment that definitely wasn’t in a field with Scott’s friends and Scott not even there.
“He’s a good guy,” Eamon said aloud, and finally felt like one of the group when Lennox tried to put him in headlock for the first time.
30
Scott
From his position behind the table, Scott had watched Eamon go off to meet up with Scott’s friends with his heart in his mouth. He wasn’t worried his friends would actually be assholes, but it was all too possible that their enthusiasm might seem like assholery to someone with Eamon’s delicate sensibilities. Or, potentially, Eamon’s temper.
It was with a similar sense of trepidation that Scott watched the five of them come back to the weighing station with their bags of garbage. Before, Eamon had seemed an outsider, a quiet observer of a conversation he wasn’t quite part of. Now, he was gesturing with what for him were wild motions, illustrating a story that Scott couldn’t hear from this distance, but desperately wanted to.
There was only one way this kind of commonality could be achieved: through some kind of horrible information sharing involving Scott. He groaned inwardly, on the one hand desperate to know exactly what had been said about him, and on the other, not quite willing to hear just how badly he’d been wrecked by his so-called friends.
“How’d it go?” he called as they passed by his table.
“Fucking great!” Lennox shouted back, before being silenced by Kieran’s elbow in the gut as the other man gestured meaningfully at the kids surrounding them. He rolled his eyes, levering himself back up stiffly. “Age-appropriately great!”
“That’s good!” Scott called back. Eamon waved; Scott waved back. So far, so good, apparently.
Scott lost sight of the little group after that, busy answering questions about where to take the cleaned-up trash, or the location of the washrooms. He was feeling restless by now – had been feeling restless most of the day, in fact. He was used to spending the Clean-Up event walking through the conservation area and hefting heavy bags of trash. Sitting behind a table just wasn’t his style.
He was honestly considering taking a lap around the bike path to get his heart rate up when Eamon finally wandered back to his table, looking a little the worse for wear. Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Eamon look this casual, his shirt sweat-soaked and splotched with mud, his hair sticking every which way.
“How you doing?” Scott called once Eamon was close enough to hear.
Eamon raised a hand and partially hid a huge yawn. “Doing okay,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Little bit worn out, I guess.”
“How’d your team do in the weigh-in?” Scott asked.
“No idea. I wasn’t really paying attention,” Eamon admitted.
Scott laughed. “You don’t want the grand prize?”
“I’ll probably be okay?” Eamon said. He rested his ass on the edge of the table, stretching out his back as he spoke. “You have a good day?”
Scott eyed the crowd. They mostly seemed to be ignoring him now, the flow of people primarily directed to the makeshift stage where the prizes were to be handed out. “Little bit boring, if I’m honest.” He grinned up at Eamon. “Not used to sitting on my ass all day.”
“You’d rather find trash?” Eamon said, amused.
“Pretty much.” Scott took in Eamon’s general appearance and handed him his water bottle. Eamon took it gratefully. “I don’t usually do this part of the Clean-Up.”
“I’m sure the town is very grateful to you either way,” Eamon joked.
Scott wrinkled his nose, amused. “They’d better be, huh?” In the distance, he could hear the prizes being announced and the applause from the crowd, but he’d rather be here with Eamon anyway. Besides, someone needed to man the information booth. “We’ll get out of here in a second,” he promised, watching Eamon’s shoulders slump with tiredness. “Want to come over after?”
“I’m filthy,” Eamon said flatly. “And I don’t think I have clothes at your place.”
“Not a problem.” Sc
ott waved a hand. “Just borrow something.” His tone grew softer and more persuasive. “I missed you last night.”
“Your choice to get up at ass-o’clock this morning,” Eamon told him. “But sure. I just need to get my bike.”
“Your bike now, huh?” Scott teased him.
Eamon rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You could probably get a new one by now,” Scott said. “For what you’ve paid in rental fees, I mean.”
“I don’t mind supporting local business.”
Scott pretended to be offended. “You don’t think I can sell you one?”
“I was forgetting,” Eamon lied with a smile.
Scott reached out to touch his hand where it rested on the table’s edge. “Liar,” he said fondly. He rose from his chair to peer over at the festivities by the stage. “We’re almost out of here, I think.”
As always, it took longer than expected to shut up shop after the Clean-Up, but Eamon didn’t seem to mind waiting around, or the slow pace of their ride home, surrounded by the rest of town driving or riding in the same direction. He was yawning a bit, but his bike hardly wobbled at all, and Scott felt oddly proud for having taken Eamon from a novice to someone who avoided children in the road with ease.
“You did good today,” he said as they locked their bikes up on the front porch and reached out to embrace Eamon.
Eamon made a face. “I’m so gross,” he said, holding Scott off with his hands. “Shower first, then other things.”
“Other things?” Scott teased as they made their way inside.
“Like lying very still,” Eamon said with a raised eyebrow. He stretched his neck hard enough for Scott to hear it crack. “I’m just beat after that.”
“And it’s not even two in the afternoon,” Scott told him.
Eamon groaned aloud.
When he came downstairs in the clothes Scott had laid out for him on the bed, he looked fucking adorable. Scott’s old cut-offs fit him fairly well, but the t-shirt seemed to envelop him, the soft old cotton clinging to his shoulders, but swathing the rest of his body in white.
“You’re adorable,” Scott blurted out.
Eamon scoffed. “I look ridiculous and you know it.”
“Nah, never in those shorts,” Scott said, eyeing Eamon’s lower half lasciviously.
“I’m very tired after all that work,” Eamon pointed out.
“Back stiff?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, actually.” Eamon rolled his shoulders. “How’d you know?”
“It’s all that bending down,” Scott said. “Lunch and then a massage?”
“I could probably handle a massage,” Eamon allowed. “Also, some lunch, actually. Is it really almost two?”
“Clean-Up always runs long,” Scott said apologetically. “But I made sandwiches last night!” He swung the fridge open triumphantly, and presented Eamon with a sandwich in a box.
“You’re a genius,” Eamon said, sitting down at the table to eat.
“Thank you, I’ll allow it.” Scott sketched a bow in the air. “Something to drink?”
“Anything cold.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Eamon’s shoulders drooped less and less as he got further and further into both the sandwich and the glass of iced tea that Scott poured him. He ate quietly, his ankles wrapped around the chair legs. From behind his own sandwich, Scott watched him closely. He still wanted to know what his friends had said to Eamon – had said about him particularly – but he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to know.
They couldn’t have said anything too bad about him after all. Not if Eamon was still here and not asking any awkward questions. Not that there were any particularly dirty secrets in his past, though he’d rather Eamon didn’t hear anything about some of the attempts at poetry he’d made when he was particularly young and thought himself in love.
“Did you have an okay time?” he asked instead.
“It was good,” Eamon insisted. He put his sandwich down to look Scott in the eye. “I told you already to stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying,” Scott lied. “I just really like Clean-Up day, and I want you to see the good side of it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to show you it.”
“There’s always next year,” Eamon said, finishing his sandwich and yawning. “Anyway, your friends took good care of me.”
“That’s what I worry about,” Scott said darkly, but his spirits were rising. Next year? Was Eamon already thinking in terms of next year. The thought made him want to make embarrassing noises and pull Eamon directly into his arms. Was this a declaration? Or was he just overthinking everything. He pulled his attention back to Eamon who was stretching his arms over his head.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Eamon assured him, cracking his neck back and forth. “All you need to worry about is the fact that I was promised a massage.”
31
Scott
Teasing Eamon about his stiff shoulders making him an old man felt obligatory to Scott as Eamon lay down on the bed, but that wasn’t what he really thought as Eamon stripped off the oversized t-shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of back dimpled with curves of muscle.
“Pants too?” Eamon said, shooting Scott a flirtatious glance over his shoulder.
“Everything,” Scott said recklessly. His eyes danced over Eamon’s body, drinking in every detail. He’d seen it before, but he’d never get tired of it.
“I told you I was too tired to do any work,” Eamon laughed.
Scott leaned over his shoulder to kiss him, hand running down the bare expanse of Eamon’s back. “I’ll do all the work, lazy. You just lie there and let me pound the day out of your shoulders.”
Eamon lifted an eyebrow in lieu of making the obvious joke, but he shimmied out of Scott’s shorts and lay down on the bed, head pillowed on his folded arms. Scott had to take a little moment just to look at him: he couldn’t help it. Eamon, as if he could feel Scott’s gaze, wiggled around to glare at him out of the one eye visible over his arm. That was cute too.
“I’m coming,” Scott said. He sat down on the bed next to Eamon, putting his hands on Eamon’s shoulders, and began to dig his thumbs into the stiff rafts of muscle there.
“You’re a magician,” Eamon groaned, the sound garbled and sticky coming out of his mouth. Scott wanted to laugh a little at how easy it was to make Eamon melt, but he suppressed the urge. It was more important right now to make Eamon feel good, to smooth away the knots marring the smooth lay of his shoulders. He pressed a little harder, shifting in his seat at the sound Eamon made, and started to make his way down Eamon’s spine.
There was something meditative in the feeling of hands on skin, the sensation of pressing down until Scott could feel the muscle tension and smooth it away. It was counterbalanced, of course, by the enticing visual of Eamon face down on his bed, the feel of silky skin under his hands, the curve of his plump ass. Either way: Scott could do this all day long.
He was almost surprised, as he ran his hands over Eamon’s sides, pressing into the muscle there, that Eamon had let him do this so easily. Eamon was a hard guy to take care of – except perhaps for making him dinner, and Scott was fully prepared to regard take-out that he didn’t have to pay for as a kind of equal trade. Now he was boneless on Scott’s bed: a place he’d been many, many times before, of course, but Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Eamon this relaxed.
Eamon groaned again as Scott’s fingers found the dimples above his ass. “I didn’t even know I could get stiff there,” he mumbled into his arms, his voice thick and slow.
“Then you’re not doing nearly enough cycling,” Scott joked. “Not just there, but down here too–” his hands slid to cup Eamon’s ass, thumbs pressing into the muscle there and making little circles.
Eamon huffed a laugh. “I had figured out that the bike seat got me right there,” he said “Oh, fuck. That feels good.”
Scott grinned, and pressed harder
, enjoying the way Eamon squirmed under him, right at that border of pain and pleasure that made a good massage so good. He worked his way around the muscles there, dipping his thumbs into the crease at Eamon’s thighs, the slim line of his hips.
“Am I that stiff right there?” Eamon drawled after a while, sounding amused.
“No idea,” Scott told him cheerfully. “But I am enjoying myself.”
Eamon laughed faintly. “Oh, me too, to be sure.” He made another deep sound of pleasure, the vibrations rippling through him and up Scott’s hands.
Scott worked his way back up Eamon’s back towards his neck. Eamon felt much more relaxed now, as if he was melting right into the sheets. The noises he made were softer too, with fewer grunts protesting Scott’s touch on a particularly stiff knot, and a lot more long, low moans inadequately muffled by Eamon’s arms and the pillow. Stroking his fingers down Eamon’s neck rewarded him with a shiver and pressing his mouth to the back of Eamon’s neck in a series of fluttering kisses produced a noise that practically destroyed Scott where he sat.
He’d already been turned on by the long slide of his hands up and down his lover’s body, but now he was half-hard and panting, his mouth full of the filthiest things he wanted to say to Eamon. He kissed Eamon’s neck some more, nipping at the skin over his traps, biting down just enough to have Eamon squirming under him.
“Is this a new massage technique?” Eamon asked, breathless even in his teasing.
“Could be,” Scott murmured into his ear. He glanced down to where Eamon’s hips were moving almost imperceptibly against the bed. He knew he’d be hard as a rock after being rubbed down with this kind of care and attention – he didn’t see why Eamon would be any different. “Or it could be something else, if you’re up for it.”
Love in Tandem Page 17
