Secret Things

by Andrews, Nazarea

  It sets me on edge.

  I reach for my phone and tap out a quick message.

  I’m bored.

  There’s a few minutes, and then,

  Dimitri: I’m walking Zed. Meet you at the park?

  I smile and clip a leash on Gil’s collar and shove my feet into worn, comfortable shoes, and head out.

  Gil is being a lazy, little shit, and sniffs at every fucking mailbox on the way to the park, even when I coax him with a promise of Zed and a game of chase.

  I get a few side long looks for that, but fuck it. If I want to talk to my damn dog, that’s my business.

  When we—finally—reach the park, it’s quiet and almost deserted. Dimitri is crouched by Zed, rubbing her silky black ears and for a second, I stand still, and watch him.

  He’s grinning, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, wearing a ripped up t-shirt and loose, worn jeans.

  He looks like he could be anyone. Any guy on the street, enjoying a quiet walk and his dog’s company.

  At a quick glance, he doesn’t look like a TV star. He doesn’t look like a rockstar. Or a celebrity.

  He looks happy, and that.

  That strings a smile across my lips and I’m grinning when he twists and sees me.

  He whistles sharply and Zed barks. At my side, Gil perks up and he’s lunging at the other dog, almost dragging me across the stupid park until they’re close enough that he can sniff her, tail wagging happily as he reassures himself she’s there.

  It’s a ridiculous picture, my big German Shepard fawning all over a black Pomeranian, but the two have been inseparable since the day we found them in the humane society.

  I wasn’t there for a dog. I was just there to keep Dimitri company as he picked out a pet, because Victor wasn’t able to come, and he didn’t want to go by himself.

  I probably should have thought about that, then.

  About what exactly it meant, that I was the person Dimitri called when he needed something Victor was supposed to do.

  Maybe I did. Maybe I knew exactly what was happening, and I just didn’t care.

  Yeah. That’s the problem.

  And it probably didn’t help anything when he fell in love with Zed and gave me big pleading eyes, because he couldn’t take Gil too, and I didn’t even think about Cari’s pack of mutts, I just kind of sighed and nodded.

  It was worth it. His big smile, crinkling up his eyes and unfiltered, was worth anything.

  Shit.

  I’ve spent the better part of twenty years convinced I was straight, and the past eight wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with the fact that guys—some guys—got my dick hard.

  It wasn’t something I was ready to talk about, or even acknowledge, so I shoved it down with all the other shit I liked to ignore, and I fake dated my co-star, and it was fine.

  It was fucking fine.

  Until I fell in love with my very, male best friend.

  Dimitri is staring at me, and his hand is stroking through Gil’s fur and that’s fucking annoying.

  Great. I’m jealous of a damn dog. That’s just...

  “We should talk,” he says.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 6.

  An Interview with Evans Hurts, creator and producer of FRACTAL ENDS, crossposted to Fractured Realms.

  FRACTAL ENDS beat the odds, and has become a cult classic. We reached a seventh season that no one thought we would. It's the show that started out a joke, on a network everyone was writing off. And if found the kind of success that makes studio execs want to bottle it.

  Do you think they can?

  No. I mean, it's more than a story that we're telling. It's that Carissa and Camden believe it. They aren't just partners onscreen. They're best friends, and partners in life. They're inseparable and that kind of closeness bleeds on the screen and makes watching them a pleasure. And then Dimitri joined the show, and he added his own dynamic to their established relationship. We got lucky there.

  Would you like to explain?

  Dimitri came to the show when everything was up in the air. Season 3 was a hard year for us. We got a half-order for the show and it was the studio gambling. And we had to do something, deepen the story. Give Ann and Josef something to fight for and against. Dimitri's character was that for us. But it only works if Farley is believable. Dimitri carried that. He gave us a character who could meet Ann where she was and challenge Josef. Who met the established camaraderie between Cari and Cam and added to it instead of taking away from it.

  Is it safe to say Dimitri saved the show?

  Little more complicated than that, but I will say he brought something that we needed and made the show better. And he brought Cari and Cam something they needed. They're better together. All of them.

  What's in store for Fractal Ends on Season 7? That finale was hard for us.

  Well. I can't tell you much without giving away secrets. But I will say fans will love what we've got the three of them getting into this year.

  --

  Camden looks vaguely sick, and he shifts. Gil ignores both of us, happy to flop on the grass and let Zed curl next to him. She gives me a big, beady-eyed stare, and then turns to the other dog.

  Effectively dismissed, I focus on my friend.

  "'Bout what?" he asks, smiling big and fake.

  "Don't do that," I say, too tired to fuck around.

  "Dimitri," he starts and I huff.

  "I kissed you, and--"

  "Dimitri!" he snaps, "We're in fucking public."

  My heart is pounding and he's glaring at me.

  It's hot. Which is not where my head should be going, but it's where it always goes, with Camden.

  "We have to talk about it," I say, stiffly. "We start filming soon, and you can't just fucking ignore it."

  "I could, actually," he mutters, and I go still.

  I want to let that be a joke. I know he meant it as one. It was a tossed off response, Cam being a little bit of a dick, but it didn't mean that's what he wants.

  But it hurts.

  Fucking hell, it hurts.

  "Is that what you want?" I ask, my voice smaller than I want it to be.

  It jerks Camden's head up, his eyes wide and surprised and he kind of deflates. "Dimitri."

  "I shouldn't have ki--done that. I apologize."

  "We're not doing this here," he mutters and scoops up Zed.

  Gil scrambles to his feet, a whine building in his throat as Camden stalks away and I blink after them.

  "Let's go, Dimitri!" he shouts, and I'm aware, suddenly, of the people watching us. The park isn't full, but it isn't empty. I can get away with being out by myself, but if I'm with Camden, or Cari, it changes things. They're more well-known, and putting us together seems to light up some kind of weird fan bat signal.

  I wave at the people watching, offering a sardonic Farley smile, and then jog to catch up with Camden. He hands me my dog, wordlessly, and wrangles his anxious Shepard, and we walk in silence until we reach my duplex.

  It's rented by the studio and it doesn't feel like home the way Cari's house does, but it's mine and it's clean, and Zed loves it, so I don't bitch much.

  Camden shoves his key in the lock and lets Gil loose as I set Zed down, and then he's on me.

  Shoving into my space, and pushing me into the wall, and his lips are hard on mine.

  I hit the wall next to a framed picture of the four of us. It rattles like an accusation as Camden's tongue fucks into my mouth, and I moan, because holy fuck, he was holding back in that damn theatre. I lick at his tongue and shove a thigh between his legs and there it is.

  His cock, hard and hot through the jeans, rubbing against me. And he’s not doing anything about it. Just rocks against me slow and easy as he kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe. His tongue licks into my mouth and I have a heartbeat to wonder how it would feel somewhere else, and then he’s sucking on my lower lip and my dick jerks. He pulls away with a laugh, and catches my earlobe between his tee
th, biting down just enough to drag a whimper from me and then licking over it, tracing the shell of my ear and peppering wet, hot kisses on the soft skin just below my earlobe. It makes me pant and I shove a hand into that long shaggy hair of his, jerking his head up and kissing him, hard and bruising. It’s fierce teeth and demands, domination and possession.

  It's everything I’ve wanted from him.

  I groan into the kiss and Camden yanks away from me, breathing a filthy curse as his hips roll against my thigh, working his dick against me like his life is depending on getting off right the fuck now. I breathe his name and his eyes find mine, wide and surprised, somehow, and I smile.

  He comes like that.

  Without me touching him. Riding my leg and staring at me, his mouth open just a little and smelling like sweat and sunshine, lips red and shiny from our kiss, his eyes go hazy and unseeing for an endless second, and he groans, his expression crunching into something that is almost painful, but isn't. He breathes my name, like a prayer, before his head drops down and lands in the crook of my shoulder, panting soft and sweet against my skin as he shudders.

  For a long moment, I don’t know what to say. This wasn’t the plan, when I answered his text this morning.

  But it’s never the plan. I can still feel the picture, too close to my head, and I’m too aware of what we’re doing to Cari and Victor.

  And how very wrong it is.

  I just don’t care. Not as much as I should.

  He’s straightening. His breathing is even, and I can feel the tension tightening up his muscles, and the way he’s about to pull away from me.

  So my grip on him tightens, just a little, and I say the only thing I can think of.

  “Please don’t run away again.”

  Camden makes a little noise against my throat, something between a laugh and a groan, and kisses the skin there, startling me.

  I whimper as he pulls away.

  “Not goin’ anywhere, Dimitri,” he says. “Do you have some clothes I can change into?”

  I swallow hard and lick my lips. Nod. "Um. Your shelf, in the bathroom."

  His eyes narrow just a little, and then he gives this wide smile, kisses me quickly and turns, heading down the hallway to the bathroom.

  It's not weird, that I have his shit in the house.

  He spends enough time here that it would be weird if I didn't.

  God, this is going to be so goddamn messy.

  This is why I've kept shit to myself, for so long. Why I never told him that I wanted him, never responded to those sidelong looks that he would send me when he didn't think I was watching.

  Because of course I saw them.

  Camden is very good, and very cryptic and man of mystery, except when it comes to me and Cari. I think his best friend, Tristan, can read him as well as we can, but I've never bothered to test the theory.

  All I know is I can't keep a secret from him, and he can't keep one from me, and we've been headed to this point for fucking months, and it's not going to end well.

  We work together.

  And there's Cari.

  Fuck.

  I co-founded Small Things with her and now I'm making out with her boyfriend and getting him off in my fucking hallway.

  Pretty sure I'm going to hell for that.

  "Hey."

  I'm so deep in thought I don't even notice Camden's return until he's close, and I can smell the scent of soap on him, and fresh wet wipes.

  "Hey, where you at man?" he asks. Catching me by the arm and tugging me to the couch, where he sits me down and fusses over me, making sure I'm comfortable and have a bottle of water, before he sits a few feet away and watches me with those big eyes of his.

  He's gorgeous, when he's like this.

  Well, always, really, but when he's lit up with this need to care for the people around him--then he's fucking breathtaking, and I always wonder how the hell I became one of the people Camden cares about.

  "We can't do this," I whisper.

  "Little late for that, huh. We are doing it."

  Color rises in his cheeks as the words register and I smirk, but he waves it off with a stern look cast my way.

  "You want me," he says, instead.

  "Yeah, Camden. Of course I fucking want you. Doesn’t mean I get to have you."

  "Why not?" he asks, softly.

  "You have a girlfriend. You're straight. It would fuck up the show. The studio would never allow it."

  "You have a boyfriend," Camden says, and it draws me up short.

  "What?"

  "Your boyfriend. You didn't mention him." He cocks his head. "This isn't about me, Dimitri. What the fuck is going on between you and Victor?”

  I let out a slow breath. “I told you--”

  “I know. He wants you to quit Ends. And he thinks you’re fucking Cari. But you’ve never had a problem letting Vic know when he’s out of line. So why aren’t you? Why are you running and rolling over for this shit?”

  “I’m fucking tired, Camden,” I snap. “I spent a decade fighting to get here. And now I’m here, and he’s there, and I feel like, we both got what we wanted, but we lost each other to do it. And I should care. It should be ripping me up and it isn’t..”

  His eyes are soft and sad. And it’s killing me.

  “I miss him. I miss being around a guy who was just as full of dreams and ideas as I was, who played for gas money and beer and because he couldn’t imagine not playing. I miss that so much it hurts. But it doesn’t mean he’s going to go back to that. Any more than I’ll go back to being the roadie who sold his merch and wrote his songs and came up with fucking insane plans to raise money and wrote stupid scripts that’ll never go anywhere.”

  I can feel tears in my eyes, because it’s this. All of this is what I’ve been feeling for months, and I’m finally saying it and I shouldn’t, not to Camden, because.

  “Dimitri, you can fix it,” he murmurs, softly.

  I laugh. It’s this brittle thing that hurts. “I don’t want to fix it, Cam.” I glance up at him, and he’s staring at me. Patient and waiting.

  “I’ve spent the last four breaks with Vic and I hate it. Every time I’m with him, I feel like I’m there because I have to be, and not because either of us wants me there. I don’t like it. And I fucking hate this goddamn place.”

  He goes still and hurt.

  “Do you know when I’m happy, Camden? When I’m with you. When it’s us and Cari. At your house, or on set, or fuck, at the cons. It doesn’t matter. That’s when I’m happy. Not when I’m with Vic. Not when I’m here, alone.”

  “And you think we can’t be together.”

  It’s not phrased as a question, so I don’t bother to answer it. And I don’t let hope take root because he’s not agreeing.

  It doesn’t mean shit.

  “We aren’t going anywhere, Dimitri,” he says, when it becomes clear I’m not going to respond. “You aren’t going to lose this.”

  “And when Cari finds out that you got off with me? That I want to take you to bed and fuck you into my mattress? That I hate seeing you with her and knowing that she’s the one who gets to wake up with you? Think she’s going to be ok with me then?”

  “Cari is very aware of how you feel about me,” Camden says, and that shocks me into silence. He gives me this impatient look. “Come on, man, it’s not a secret. You flirt like it’s a fucking Olympic sport.”

  “I flirt with everyone, Cam,” I snap, stalking into the kitchen. My hands are shaking and I keep my back to him.

  I’m not ready to see his gaze.

  I’m not ready for him to know, for me to know. It’s too much.

  “Dimitri,” he murmurs, and it tugs at me. “It’s different, and we know it. Cari does too.”

  Because Cari is fucking smart. Smarter than both of us, and that’s saying something.

  Fuck.

  “You should go,” I say, softly.

  “Dimitri,” he protests.

  “Camden. She�
��s your girlfriend. You should go home.”

  He’s silent for a long time, and then he huffs a sigh. His arms come around me, cradling me to him and I feel his breath on my neck, feathering over my skin as he dips down and kisses me, soft and sweet and almost chaste.

  Almost.

  “I’m not giving up on this, Dimitri,” he murmurs and squeeze me close, for a heartbeat.

  Then he lets me go and steps away. Whistles for Gil and he’s gone.

  And I’m alone again, in this damn empty house.

  I’m asleep on the couch, when the front door bangs open. It’s been a shitty day, and Carissa storming into my house, rigid with fury, is the last thing I want to deal with.

  "You fucking idiot," she snarls.

  I blink up at her. Zed whines in her throat and burrows deeper into my side, and I have a second to wonder how much I drank and how long I’ve been sleeping--not, I realize, long enough to sober up--before she's jerking the blanket off me.

  "Get your ass up, Dimitri. We need to talk."

  "Do we have to?" I mumble, but I don't bother to wait for her searing glare before I trip into the bathroom to piss and wash my face.

  I'm not drunk.

  But I'm not sober, and I think that's a good thing because this conversation won't be an easy one to have.

  When I come back, Cari is sitting on my couch. She's thrown out the empty beer bottles, folded up my blanket and Zed--traitor--is curled up in her lap, almost asleep.

  There are cookies on the table, with a bottle of Advil and water.

  Even when she's pissed, Cari can't stop taking care of people around her. She's very like Camden in that. And it's what I love about her.

  "I'm sorry," I whisper.

  I've done a lot of shitty things over the years. A lot of things I regret. There was the time I got arrested outside a concert venue for picking a fight with a couple of rednecks who insulted Vic. There was the time I stole fifty dollars from a friend's wallet before we left his loft because the alternative was going hungry and I couldn't do that to Vic.

  There were the shitty parts I took, and times I missed my mother's birthdays, the fight I got into with my sister when I left home to tour with Vic, back when we were really just a group of idiotic kids with dreams too big for our own good.