It was a gleeful scene, with everyone chatting happily and enjoying a calm evening before it was time to work. Except for Carson, of course. Carson wandered around the room from table to table, boisterously demanding a sample from each person’s plate. There would be no taming him when there was a chance to play the part of the merrymaker.
Sam and Drew arrived together, as was customary by this point. No one so much as batted an eyelid when the two strolled into the hall together, neither speaking but both content and at ease. They made a beeline for their teammates, Drew greeting them with a smirk and Sam with a wave. There were more of the Rockfort guys around now, making the whole thing seem like an extended sleepover. Sam had been especially pleased to have Max make the call ups, though he naturally gravitated toward Cassius.
Even after a year and a half, Sam still felt a sense of obligation to protect his fellow werewolf. It wasn’t that he’d ever had real cause to fret over him, Cassius might be a bit dense sometimes, but he took these matters seriously and if anything, their friendship had reignited and deepened over the year. It was nice to be close to Cassius again, and truth be told, it felt nice to have someone to share his burden with. He had Drew, of course. He’d always have Drew. But Drew was a human, and try as he might Drew would never truly understand what it was like to live like them. And Sam never wanted him to have to find out. He’d never be able to handle the guilt otherwise.
Speaking of guilt…Sam felt a pang of it just then.
One notable absence from their team’s reunion was Jonas. After the night in Blanca, Jonas was never called up again. Some attributed his exclusion to some off the cuff remarks he’d made about coaching decisions, but Sam couldn’t help but suspect that it all had more to do with the fact that Jonas had let Cassius wander off alone to be mauled in the night.
Perhaps his exclusion was a twisted form of punishment for his poor babysitting skills. Jonas had been a wreck, weighed down by the guilt of the near-fatal attack on Cassius. It took more patience than anyone knew Drew possessed, to bring him back to reality again. But by then the damage had been done. Unfair as it may have been, life marched on and so did the team.
Across the room, some of the other men staked claim to their own table. It wasn’t necessarily an intentional thing, it was more that they were all close and comfortable with each other. That same familiar bond shared between Sam and Cassius was on full display with them, most noticeably between Carson and newcomer Garry. After scoring on his debut, Garry had made quite the impact with the team, and with Carson as his main cheerleader he seemed right at home amongst them.
Sam glanced over at them, talking loudly and rapidly, Carson fluttering around the group with his fork, helping himself to whatever he wanted while the other men laughed. It was nice, watching others having fun. He was about to elbow Cassius, to say something quiet but sharp about his observations, when he noticed Cassius’ attention had drifted elsewhere.
Simon and Fabian were practically undressing each other with their eyes, not speaking so much as they were staring longingly at each other. Across from them, Tyrone and Ian seemed deep in some sort of world altering conversation. Tyrone looked thoughtful, Ian looked almost confused, and beside them sat Adrian, chewing intently on his food, eyes darting between them, clearly not paying attention. Sam side-eyed Cassius, wondering what the hell he was looking at over there, stealthily tracing the man’s gaze right to Adrian’s lips. Sam blinked, unsure what to make of it, before deciding he must have been mistaken.
Then, as if on cue, Adrian looked up from his plate, made direct eye contact with Cassius and just...smiled.
Sam started to choke.
“Hey, you okay?” Drew asked, quickly offering a glass of water. Wesley rose to his feet, crossing over to gently massage Sam’s back as he sputtered and coughed.
“I’m fine!” He wheezed, blushing once he realized all eyes were now on him. The room had become silent. It was embarrassing. He took the glass of water and waved a hand to dismiss them all. Once the conversations resumed, he dared look back at Cassius, who was definitely making eyes at Adrian across the way.
“Hey,” Drew whispered, nudging him in the ribs. “What’s up? You’re acting weird.”
Sam bit his lip, leaning in closer to Drew. “It’s nothing, just…”
“Just what?”
He glanced at Cassius again, then sighed softly. “I’ll tell you later. Promise.”
Drew gave him his what-the-hell look, but said nothing. Instead he reached over and thumbed Sam’s cheek, then settled back in his seat.
“Listen up, everybody!” A voice cut through the noise, loud and insistent and so energetic it was almost painful. It was Carson. “Hey everyone, shut up! I want to propose a toast!”
Several of them groaned, a few muttered profanities, and more still called out in approval as Carson stood up on his chair, water goblet raised high. Dutifully, the rest of them fell into line and raised their glasses too.
“First, we should toast for good health for us all. Let’s all be healthy, fit and well for the road ahead of us.” There were murmurs of approval at this, even if Carson’s enthusiasm was a bit over the top. “And then we should drink for our future happiness. May all of our dreams come true!”
“And may we never again be defeated!” Fabian called out and the others chuckled as they started to drink.
“No, stop! I’m not done!” Carson yelped, pouting in the way only Carson could. “I have one more toast to make. To our captain!”
The eye rolling was practically audible. Simon let out a massive sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Oh no. Carson…” Ian started to protest, a look of sheer panic in his eyes. Carson apparently didn’t hear him.
“To Ian! We could not have come this far without you! Ian, you are our rock! You are our anchor! No, wait, you are like the guiding light from a lighthouse, lighting the pathway to victory! You are like our North Star! Or like…the constellation in the southern hemisphere which sailors used. It’s on a bunch of flags, I think. We should look for it next week, that’d be pretty neat. I’d like to see it. Anyways, you are like that, and you are amazing. You’re such a good friend to us all, and you’re just a nice person, even though you’re sometimes a jerk. It comes from a place of love and we all get that and we love you, Ian! We love you so much!” The young man looked so sincere as he slathered the obviously embarrassed Ian with praise.
Sam wasn’t sure if it was happening in earnest or if Carson was pulling some kind of prank. Ian was pink, from his neck to the tips of his ears and his eyes were wide with horror. Carson meanwhile was laughing brightly, without a single hint of malice in his smile. At each of their respective tables, the occupants seemed poised to burst out into riotous laughter. Not to be outdone, the Rockfort guys erupted first.
“What the fuck, Carson!” Drew cackled. “Have you been drinking? Are you drunk?” The rest of the men howled in glee.
Carson’s brows furrowed and he somehow contorted his face into the most innocent expression imaginable. “What? No! Of course not! I was just—”
“Look at Ian’s face!” Tyrone cried out, laughing in spite of himself. Yes, even Tyrone partook in the public mockery. The room erupted in sobs of laughter. Ian slowly buried his face in his hands like he wanted to melt into the floor.
“Nice one, Carson! You got him good!” Garry trilled, slapping his friend on the back as the uproar began to simmer.
Carson kept up his smile, but Sam was almost sure he saw a dash of anguish in his eyes as he watched him settle back into his seat, eyes falling to Ian’s form, slumped on the table across the room. “Heh. Yeah.”
Sam frowned slightly and it all started to make sense. It hadn’t been a joke at all. Carson had meant every word he’d said, he'd just used 'we' instead of 'I'. Carson had it bad for Ian. Looking back, it all made sense to Sam. For as long as he'd known the two of them, he'd been vaguely aware of the odd dynamic they shared.
; Carson seemed to adore Ian, while Ian always indulged Carson, alternating between being protective of him and playing just a bit too rough. It was a fine line, a confusing line, and frankly Sam wasn't sure he could speculate as to Ian's feelings for the younger man. Maybe he reciprocated. Sometimes it seemed that way. But just as often, Ian seemed to be at his wit's end with Carson, frustrated, angry, annoyed. It must be chaotic for Carson, to be pulled between extremes by the person he loved.
Sam's heart ached for Carson. It ached so badly. Without even thinking about it, he reached under the table and put his hand on Drew’s knee. Drew turned to face him quickly and the two shared a short little smile and his heartache dissolved back into pure love, or something palpable enough that he almost worried that someone else might pick up on it.
And as he finally broke from Drew’s gaze, he stole a peek at the other table. Simon was shaking Ian’s shoulders, loudly teasing him over the toast. Fabian and Tyrone were both attempting to stifle their laughter. And Adrian was taking full advantage of the lack of scrutiny to make eyes right back at Cassius.
Sam shook his head and gave Drew's knee a squeeze. Whatever was going on between Cassius and Adrian, he decided he didn't want to know the details.
Chapter 10
Ian & Carson
Garry and Carson were the first ones to leave the dining room, at Carson’s insistence. After the debacle which was his toast, he was eager to get as far away from the rest of the team as possible.
The sooner he was gone, the sooner they’d forget the whole ordeal and the sooner Carson could overcome the humiliation. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take a bit of embarrassment. He liked attention, good or bad, and he thrived when the crowd was on his side. But he’d gotten the distinct impression that the guys weren’t laughing with him this time, and what was more troubling he got the impression that he’d managed to upset Ian, too. And for that reason alone, he felt like a failure.
When he’d looked to Ian afterward, to offer up a friendly smile of apology, he’d been met with a look of mortification. Ian, blushing bright red, being teased and laughed at in front of everybody. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered anyone, but for whatever reason, Carson felt like he’d done something wrong, and it was eating at him from the inside out.
And why was that? He didn’t care to think about it too much, otherwise he’d risk having to go down the long trail of introspection and he didn’t have the energy or the time for that.
Long story short? He had a thing for Ian. A massive crush. He’d had those feelings for Ian for as long as he could remember, probably from the very first time they’d met, and their years spent playing together did very little in the way to dissuade his attachment. If anything, his feelings had only intensified over time and across the distance, and while he’d meant everything in his speech in general, he’d actually truly been speaking from the heart to Ian. It was as close to a confession as he’d ever get.
Other than telling Garry, anyway. He'd told Garry about his infatuation a long time ago. It hadn't gone well. He had the distinct impression that his best friend thought he was insane for it, so he stopped bringing it up. Now, a couple of years down the line, they were on the national team together and Carson had all the more reason to never mention his crush and pretend like it never happened. On the bright side, his strategy seemed to have worked. Everything he'd said at dinner had been taken as a huge joke. Carson had never been so relieved in his life.
“I still can’t get over that toast,” Garry said as they headed for the elevators. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d initially dared Carson to lead the team in a toast. “No one expected you to bust that shit out. Did you see his face? It was classic!”
Carson scrunched his nose, repeatedly pressing the call button. “It really wasn’t that funny.”
“Whatever, Carson. Like you didn’t have it all planned out.”
“I really didn’t.” He protested, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not that clever.”
“Well, you’re cleverer than you look.” Garry smirked, fluffing the Carson’s hair. Carson glared at him for that, though in spite of his efforts, he just managed to come across looking like a peeved little kitten. The elevator doors opened ahead of them and he strode in. “Come on. I’m tired as hell. Let’s go play some cards and go to bed.”
“Yeah, okay.” Carson shrugged defeatedly and stepped in behind Garry. He looked up as the elevator doors slowly began to close, catching sight of Simon and Ian rounding the corner toward them. Just as the doors slid shut, Ian and Carson locked eyes, and before he could stop himself, Carson’s heart began racing and he found himself grinning from ear to ear.
* * *
Ian stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed ahead as Simon yammered on incessantly at his side, oblivious to the scene before him. His pulse skipped, just for a beat or two and before he could think, he was smiling stupidly, lopsided and over the moon as their eyes met.
Carson, oh, Carson. Annoying, obnoxious, adorable, lovable Carson. How could one man elicit such conflicting emotions from him? His mind went on a roller coaster whenever he thought about him, up and down and all around in loops. Carson had somehow managed to be both the object of Ian’s most sordid fantasies and the person he was most likely to lose his temper with. He brought out the darkest, most moving emotions he possessed. He was at once infuriating and wildly exciting. But beyond that, he was also kind of embarrassing. After all, he was Carson.
Carson had no clue what he’d ignited in the dining hall. For months, years even, Ian had dealt with his infatuation quietly. He never indulged it, never let on how he felt anything for Carson besides respect and friendship. Sure, he’d ask after him from time to time, and they’d sometimes send text messages, and once or twice over the years they’d made brief phone calls, but Ian really and truly worked hard to keep a lid on his emotions. And somehow, in the course of two minutes in the banquet room of some luxury hotel in Uta, Carson had unwittingly torn the lid off the Pandora’s box which was Ian’s heart.
Ian had a crush. And he was going to do absolutely nothing about it. He’d be content to admire Carson from afar. He’d learn to accept it, just as he had for years. It would be alright. Besides, looking at Carson was half the fun of having feelings for him. Carson was damn sexy, even if he was direly in need of a haircut.
Ian’s smile took on a wolfish glint, and at that precise moment Simon caught on that Ian had drifted off. “Hello? Earth to Ian!” He waved a hand in front of Ian’s face, scowling at being ignored. “Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”
Ian snapped back to reality as the elevator doors closed a few feet ahead of them. Ian turned to look at Simon, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. “Of course. You were waxing poetic about Fabian’s backside. Again.”
Simon let out a whoop of a laugh and he threw his arms around Ian’s shoulders. “Aw, Ian! I knew you paid attention to me!”
“Somebody has to keep an eye on you, Si,” Ian mumbled, though he made no attempts at escape as he pushed the call button for them. “You need constant supervision, otherwise we’re all doomed.”
“Somebody else could always babysit me.” Simon’s voice was simply dripping with innuendo. It was plain as day what he was getting at.
Ian just shook his head. “You’re not rooming with Fabian, Simon.”
“But why? Ian! We’ll behave! I promise it! I swear!”
“You two distract each other too much. You wouldn’t get any sleep.”
“But we don’t need to sleep tonight! It’s just only a practice day tomorrow! Ian! Come on! Please? Please swap with Fabian? You like Tyrone! You could totally room with Tyrone! It’s just for the night! Please, Ian?” Simon was practically giving Ian puppy dog eyes.
“Try not to sound so desperate, Simon. It isn’t very becoming.”
Both Ian and Simon turned around quickly to see that Drew had somehow managed to walk up behind them without either of them noticing. There was probably a conc
lusion to be drawn from that, but neither was willing to indulge it. Instead they both gave the intruder menacing looks. Drew just continued on, leaning against the wall like their displeasure meant nothing.
“Someone’s in a good mood.” Ian said flatly, looking Drew up and down. The man almost managed to look like he wasn’t sneering for half a second.
“I’m in a fantastic mood, thanks.” Drew tilted his head to look at Simon. “This one looks miserable, though. What’d you do to him, Ian? Kick his dog?”
“No. That’s just how his face looks.”
“Hey!” said Simon.
Drew grinned and relaxed against the wall. “Hey, before I forget, I wanted to congratulate you on the superlatives, Ian.”
Ian blanched a little, a lump forming in his chest. “You mean the speech?”
“You mean Carson’s little coming out party?” Simon interjected, a fiendish look on his face.
“What else could I mean?” Drew had a conspiratorial look in his eyes as he leaned toward Simon.
Simon cackled, “He was practically begging to suck your cock, Ian!”
Ian’s eyes went huge and he looked like he might punch the shit out of them both as they snickered. “Would you two knock it off? You know Carson. He was just being an idiot. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Ian. Between the three of us, that kid’s been crazy for you since day one.” Drew said, smirking as he entered the elevator. Simon sauntered in behind him with a carefree shrug, as if Drew’s little statement wasn’t some kind of earth shattering bombshell. Ian stood there slack-jawed, like he’d just been hit by a bus. He stood there so long he very nearly missed the elevator and had to scramble to make it in before the doors closed on him.
Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance Page 6
