by Emrys Apollo
But that wasn’t even something he thought about anymore. The time had felt right to go and so he left. Nothing was tying him down, he made the decision on his own terms before he was kicked out the door; forced to go without a satisfying conclusion.
They had dispatched the remaining Argent team, and once the last of them had gone, Desmond found his sense of purpose slipped too. With that final bullet, he felt like his career had come full circle and it was time to take the back seat. He’d moved from active agent to base support on Henson’s request, but it was clear to Desmond quickly that the adrenaline of the job was what brought him joy. Everything else just seemed too trivial now. He didn’t care about stopping the bad guys. In honesty, he just wanted to go home.
He hadn’t had anywhere, really, to call home since it had all gone down all those years ago, but he was craving some comforts. He told Henson he wanted to return home, settle down a put down some roots for the first time in over twenty years. Henson had tried very hard to convince him otherwise, with a lot of figures being thrown his way. If Desmond was in any way materialistic he certainly would have been tempted. But there was too much tied to this job, too much he needed to let go of. After carrying it round like a weighted backpack for five years, he needed to let it go.
The transition had taken its time, and it felt like an age to Desmond until he was finally settling his feet on home soil. They had to make sure his track was clean, that no one was following him or tracking him down, taking the opportunity of his retirement to torture him for information on his past job. Once Storming was happy he was clean, he was allowed to go about his own business, quiet in the knowledge that Storming would always keep tabs on him and, if he ever were in peril, come to his aid.
When he first got back to, Desmond moved back in with his parents. He did, of course, have that house, but his primary objective with that was to sell it. Too much was tied up in that house; things Desmond wanted to leave behind in London. Sitting on a comfortable retirement package, Desmond left the whole process to the estate agents, telling them he didn’t care how much he just wanted it gone quickly. It did manage to give him enough to buy a small villa overlooking the beach not too far from his parents. It was exactly the fresh start Desmond had been looking for.
He spent most of his days working on his tan and brushing up on his surfing moves. With enough money in the bank, he didn’t need to work anymore, but he had opened up a beach bar not too far from his house. He didn’t get involved in any of the daily running of the business; he’d hired all the right people to make sure the business would run and grow seamlessly and made enough to turn a small profit and pay his staff nicely. Most of the time when he went to his beach bar the staff members didn’t even know he was the owner, which didn’t bother Desmond in the slightest. It gave him something to do in between catching up with friends and family he hadn’t seen for years.
Desmond stretched out on his towel, blinking his eyes open slowly to the bright sunshine above his head. Checking his watch, he knew Boris had probably started his shift by now. Maybe it would be a good time to go down and check out the place…
Desmond very much remembered the day his manager, Troy, had told him about their new hire, Boris. The guy had been an up-and-coming surfing champion, but running out of funds he had given up the gig and settled down. Desmond had felt a little bad when he had heard Boris’ story, knowing that he was sitting on a small fortune that could probably fund the young man’s career, and had taken an invested interest in getting to know the guy a little better. His obviously dyed long blonde hair surprisingly didn’t look out of place with his thick brunette beard, and struck a gorgeous contrast with his dark brown eyes. Desmond’s heart had definitely forgotten how to work when he had first laid eyes on him.
Boris had been a hard worker and put everything into his job. He seemed a little shy around Desmond the first few times he had come into the bar, but in time he’d gotten used to his presence. Desmond was even now starting to enjoy some friendly flirting with the guy. Jody and Stuart had visited him a few months back and encouraged him to take things further with the guy, stating there was clearly a strong chemistry between them. But something always held Desmond back, prevented him from taking that jump off the cliff again.
Antony seemed to stick in his mind every time he thought about taking things further with Boris. Desmond couldn’t understand how after all this time it was fair that Antony still had such a hold over him, but it was something Desmond couldn’t seem to move on from. He had no idea what had happened to Antony since the last time he saw him, sending him on his way after he’d rescued him from Storming. Antony could be dead for all Desmond knew. The Argent had never said anything about killing him in the years it took battle side to eradicate the team and Desmond was sure they would want to rub it in if they had ended his life. It was one of the many mysteries Desmond was sure he would never know the answer to: whether Antony was still alive or if he was dead.
Perhaps Jody was right; perhaps it was time to leave the past in the past.
Brushing himself off, Desmond pushed to his feet, picking up his towel in a smooth motion. He could go into the bar under the guise he was returning his beach things to see if Boris had clocked on yet. Desmond took a breath, trying to settle the butterflies in his stomach. The walk from his sunny spot to the welcoming shade of the bar seemed to take forever to walk to. Desmond couldn’t help but smile slightly as he recognized Boris’ bleach blonde hair from behind the bar.
“Morning!” Boris called with a smile as Desmond got closer. “Or should I say afternoon.” He teased. Desmond let out a small laugh as he crossed to the nearest barstool.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” Desmond smiled, placing his towel on the bar. Boris collected it, moving to put it out the back.
“Usual?” He asked upon his return. Desmond nodded as Boris set to work.
“You been in long?”
“Half hour.” Boris said, his eyes on the drink he was making.
“I see you’ve redone your hair.” Desmond noted, leaning his cheek on his fist. Boris frowned over at him. “Not an issue, just an observation.” Desmond said defensively. “It would be weird if you came in all brunette.”
“Did it last night.” Boris said, eyes back on the drink in his hand. “You have keen observation skills.” Desmond blushed lightly. Was it weird he’d noticed something quite minor so quickly?
“When you on ‘till?” Diverting the topic, Desmond sat up as Boris brought his drink over.
“About eight, unless Troy wants me working overtime.” Desmond took a long swig of his drink, chewing his next question.
“About sunset.” He mused. Boris nodded, cleaning out the cocktail set. “Beautiful time here.”
“Very pleasant walk home.” He agreed. Desmond considered what he had said as Boris moved off to serve a couple of other customers.
“You not live far from here?” Desmond questioned as he came back.
“About ten minutes.”
“Wow, we really were convenient for you.” Desmond joked. Boris nodded along.
“Lunch breaks are great - I can get at least thirty minutes out on the board and still get back not smelling like the sea.”
“I’m sure Troy won’t mind you leaving your board out the back if it’ll help.” Desmond said nonchalantly, hoping it wasn’t too obvious he was thinking about Boris in a wetsuit. Desmond had Googled him just after they had met and had not been disappointed by the results.
“It’s really not that far.” Boris smiled kindly. Desmond shrugged.
“Maybe having you surf out the front will help business.” He teased. “You could earn some money on the side, teaching people your technique.”
“I usually prefer private lessons.” Boris said it so smoothly Desmond wasn’t sure if they were actually still talking about surfing lessons. But the wink Desmond got after a moment of silence told him all he needed to know. He took a breath, mentally running for the edge o
f the cliff.
“If you ever wanted a test student,” Desmond started, talking fast so he wouldn’t have time to think and stop himself. “I could do with brushing up my technique.”
“I would have thought you’d have a line of surfing instructors around the bar.” Boris said. That feeling of being desired that Desmond hadn’t felt in such a long time was what he was holding onto and letting run his mouth.
“It’s been… A while.” Desmond admitted. “Definitely could do with someone re-showing me the ropes.” Boris blinked slowly, his eyes somehow seeming darker. It made Desmond lick his lips subtly. “I’m sure you could help me out?” Boris eyed his up and down, slowly.
“You’re a little older than me, no? I’m sure you’ve got a few tricks you could teach me.”
“Hey, watch it.” Desmond poked back cheekily. “I’m not that old.” Boris laughed lightly at him and Desmond felt the moment pass, just as it always seemed to between them. He couldn’t seem to work out how to keep the flirting going. Desmond watched him as he moved away to serve some more people who had come to the bar.
He found himself unable to look away, captivated by the confidence and smoothness of his movements. Boris just had such a compelling nature that Desmond didn’t want to not be around. It was scary how much time Boris spent on his mind when this was someone he didn’t know all that well. He’d only ever felt like this once before and that thought scared him more than he dared to admit. Because he had thought he had known him and had turned out to be very wrong.
Desmond necked the rest of his drink, letting the surge of warmth it pushed through him give him the liquid confidence he needed.
“Eight o’clock.” Desmond announced, getting to his feet. Boris frowned over at him.
“What?”
“I’ll come and pick you up at eight.” Desmond nodded confidently. “Don’t let Troy work you overtime.”
“Why?” Boris asked, still looking very confused. Desmond couldn’t help but smirk at him.
“Because I’d like to take you out to dinner and get to know you a bit better.” He said, smiling cutely. Boris looked at his hands, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Desmond continued to tease. “You know, unless you really don’t want to-”
“No.” Boris said, looking up at Desmond. Desmond’s heart swooned at the beautiful smile that was on his face. “Eight O’clock. I’ll be waiting.” Desmond beamed at him.
“Better go make it a night to remember then.” Desmond grinned, his head already spinning at the possibilities of where he could take Boris this evening. Picnic by the beach in the sunset sounded romantic as hell, but he wondered if that was too much too fast for a first date.
“Can’t wait.” Boris smiled back. Desmond reached across the bar, squeezing his hand gently, before disappearing out of the front door. Boris watched him go, his lip slipping nervously between his lips. Was this smart? Was is clever? Was he setting himself up for past issues to rear their ugly heads?
Right now, Antony just wished the bar was full of people and he was busy and didn’t have to think about anything. Why had he agreed to this? He was walking himself down a path that could only end badly, could only end in Desmond discovering the truth and forcing Antony to face his demons.
This hadn’t been the plan. He hadn’t wanted Desmond to fall for him again, far from it. He just wanted to protect Desmond, make sure he was safe, most importantly make sure he was happy. He was already lying to Desmond enough and now with the prospect of dating him he was going to have to do it all over again.
He couldn’t deceive Desmond again, he couldn’t let Desmond know that his ‘fresh start’ was actually Antony. Antony knew Desmond, he knew how hard that would have been for him to do; ask another man out. He knew that the memories they shared together would constantly haunt Desmond, force him to hold part of himself back on their date. How was he being fair forcing Desmond to be like that for him? Thinking he was moving on from Antony when he wasn’t moving at all.
But it was Desmond, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t hoped they could rekindle their relationship. He wanted Desmond to be happy, but he’d love for Desmond to be happy with him. Maybe this was their second chance. Maybe if he was open and honest with Desmond from the off they could make it work. Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Antony didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know if Desmond would be mad or glad it was actually him and not his surfer persona ‘Boris’. Rightly or wrongly, however, Antony wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip him by. Even if it turned out to be a one-time thing, Antony was going to take it for everything he could get out of it.
Because Desmond was his other half, and irrelevant if the man knew it was him or not, he couldn’t deny himself the satisfaction of finally being able to feel whole again and go home.
