by M. J. O'Shea
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” Jack asked. “I would’ve never known this place existed if it hadn’t been for this trip.”
“Me neither,” Alo said. He looked out the window of their suite into the snowy courtyard below. There were shuttles pulling in and out, dropping off travelers with cases and sets of skis. “It’s beautiful.”
From the courtyard of their hotel, the town spread out along the banks of a mountain river. The houses were colorful and close together, the streets treelined and quaint in the dark. It was hard to believe it was real and not a drawing in a book. Alo would’ve loved to spend some time exploring the town if he were there under different circumstances. He couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t.
“So we’re up early in the morning?”
“Yeah. Better to do it before half the hotel is on our backs.”
“I agree. It’ll be nice to sleep in a real bed tonight, though.”
The trains hadn’t been the best place to do more than nap uneasily. Jack had decided already that he’d had enough and told them earlier that they were flying to Poland.
Alo tried to organize all the places they’d been so far in his head, all the things he’d seen. It was unreal. And that was even before he factored in what they were doing. What they’d found tucked away.
He went to his case and got out the painting. He’d had some downtime on the train to do research.
“I think I’ve figured out who this artist is,” he said. It almost felt weird to be so blasé about it. He didn’t know how much more awe he could store in his brain, though.
“Who?” Jack asked.
“The painting from Munich. It’s a Bruegel.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
Alo wasn’t surprised. Jack didn’t seem to be much of an art aficionado. Of course he’d had to research the painting himself. It wasn’t a sight recognition thing like it might be with a Picasso or a Van Gogh.
“There were quite a few of them, actually. It was a family of painters. Although if I’m right, this is the first. Pieter Bruegel the elder. They were Flemish. Renaissance era. I was right about that part.”
“Are these paintings valuable?”
Alo nearly laughed. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, I know, I know. I guess I meant how valuable. Give me a rough number so I can have a heart attack.”
“I found a Bruegel online appraised at around two hundred million.”
Alo had been almost unsurprised. Jack, on the other hand, turned an alarming shade of pale under his seemingly perpetual golden tan.
“Fucking hell.”
“I know.”
“What makes you think it’s him?” Jack asked.
Alo went to the bag where the painting still stayed rolled up inside. He took a deep breath and pulled it out, unrolled it, and weighted down the sides gingerly with the empty water glasses housekeeping had left on their nightstands. Then he opened his laptop and showed Jack the Google images results.
“Pieter Bruegel the elder and younger had very similar styles. They were father and son, and the son copied his father quite liberally in both style and subject.” Alo clicked over to another tab of images. “There is also a second son, Jan, and his son as well, who were both painters, but their styles are different. This wouldn’t be either of them. The younger Bruegel’s paintings are valuable. They’d fetch a few million each. But it’s Pieter the elder who is considered one of the old masters.”
“And what makes you think this is an original Bruegel and not his son?” Jack asked.
“I can’t be sure. I’m a history student, not an artist, but I’m going by the signature. It looks far more like the father’s than the son’s. The letters are blocky. Roman. The son’s signature was more of a script. I couldn’t see them in the basement back in Munich, but see here?”
Jack looked. The signature definitely was much more Roman in style. “And if it’s a painting by the elder, it’s worth more?”
“Far, far more. Yes.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Morning everyone,” Kendra said. “We ready to search this hotel?” Alo looked at a scribbled sheet of notes that he’d written. “Actually we don’t have to do too much searching. I think I figured out what my great- grandfather was saying, and if I’m right, then it’s in the... pool room?”
It didn’t make sense. Why would Ira hide something in a damp room that would be renovated quite regularly? Unless it wasn’t the pool a long time ago. Or else it was his best option.
“To the pool, then,” Jack said.
A few hours later, they’d come up empty-handed. It wasn’t the first time, but it felt more disappointing than usual. Brad turned the camera off and let it drop to his side.
Alo sank into one of the pool chairs. In a way it was good they didn’t find a damn thing—probably wouldn’t be the easiest to explain to the hotel why they were digging out pool tiles.
“It’s okay, kid,” Kendra said. She patted Alo on the shoulder. “It’s just one place. Think of all the stuff we’ve already found. Just the paintings alone... even one of them.”
Alo had told them earlier about his suspicions with the Bruegel. “I know. I just really wanted there to be something here. This place is magical.”
“Next time, kid.” Jack ruffled his hair. Alo tried not to feel it all the way to his gut.
“I’m not a kid,” he muttered. It was more of a reflex than anything else at that point.
“We know.” Kendra smiled at him. “Well, team. We’re not leaving until the morning. Is anyone opposed to some relaxing?”
“I can always get them to change our tickets,” Jack said.
“Why don’t we not?” Brad asked. He’d just finished zipping his camera into its case. “I don’t think we were followed here. I’m exhausted. I know you guys are too. We’ll be safe until the morning.”
Jack looked like he wasn’t sure about that plan, but then he finally nodded. “Yeah. I guess we can all use a bit of R and R. Make sure you’re available in case anything changes, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Kendra said with a smirk.
They made their way back to the elevators and filed in. It wasn’t until they were back at their floor and in their room that Alo realized just how right Kendra had been. He was exhausted.
“You taking a nap?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I think I am. I was going to walk around a little, but I think I really need to sleep.”
“Probably a better idea anyway.”
Alo stripped his sweater off and flopped onto his bed in his jeans. He was surprised when Jack catapulted onto it a few moments later.
“What are you doing?” Alo asked. Like he had a problem sharing a bed with Jack. He smiled to himself.
“Taking a nap. You okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Alo said. He felt all shy about it. Supposed he had a reason to. Alo hadn’t exactly had too many opportunities to cuddle with someone. Mostly Jack was the beginning and end of his experience.
“Jeans off,” Jack said. “They’re not comfortable.”
“Fine.” Alo unbuttoned his and kicked them off and onto the ground. Then he slid under the comforter and the covers.
“Sweet dreams, Baby Spice.”
Alo kicked Jack in the shin. “That one seriously has to go.”
Jack chuckled, tossed his arm over Alo’s waist and drew him closer.
“Fine. Sweet dreams, kid.”
Alo didn’t reply. He was too sleepy to talk anyway.
“Where are Kendra and Brad?” Alo asked.
He’d finished drying his hair, and he was wearing his last clean sweater, a pair of boots, and the jeans he’d had on earlier. He needed to find somewhere to do some laundry. Turned out a quickie five-minute packing job wasn’t exactly comprehensive. Go figure.
“Kendra decided massage trumped food and Brad is skyping with his family, so he said he’d make do with room service. It’s just us two.”
“O-okay.”<
br />
Alo didn’t know why he was all of a sudden nervous, or why the same clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week weren’t good enough. He wiped his hands on his pant legs and smiled.
“So. I don’t really know any of the restaurants around here....” He trailed off.
Fantastic. Jack’s definitely not going to think you’re awkward.
Jack smiled at him gently. “I looked online and found a few places. Not superfancy but well rated. You game?”
“Of course. I’ll follow you.”
Alo grabbed his coat and scarf and followed Jack to the elevator. The walk to the restaurant was quiet but comfortable. Jack hovered close to Alo, like he was worried about him. It was sweet, and Alo wasn’t going to say no to the proximity. Or the way Jack’s hand brushed his lower back when he led him into the steak house he’d chosen.
It had been a tense couple of days since their little moment in Munich. Alo was still shaken from getting shot at, and they’d been on the run nearly constantly since then. Sleeping on trains, never checking into a hotel. It hadn’t been until they got to the picturesque mountain village overrun with skiers and minor nobility that they’d finally felt like they probably shook whoever was following them enough to breathe.
Or maybe to think about the fact that he and Jack had kissed. More than once. And he’d sure as hell like to do it again.
Jack got them a table, near the back as usual and close to a wall— they weren’t stupid enough not to be careful. He waited for Alo to sit before he slid into his own chair. It was sweet really, the little gentlemanly things that Jack did. Alo couldn’t pin down a moment when he’d first noticed it. It was just something that was there. And he appreciated it more every day.
“Hey, you okay?” Jack said.
“Yeah. I’m okay.” Alo was disappointed, sure. They hadn’t found anything, and they’d ridden way up into the mountains to find nothing. But... it was beautiful. And somehow the air smelled like Christmas. Alo couldn’t say that he regretted being there. Especially not in a dark candlelit steak house alone. With Jack. No regrets at all.
“I know it was disappointing that we didn’t find anything today.”
“Really, Jack.” Alo smiled. “I’m okay. I promise.”
Jack loosened up after that. He ordered drinks for them, and they worked their way through appetizers, dinner, and the most sexually frustrating dessert that Alo had ever participated in.
Jack on his own, without his team, without pressure, was charming as hell, warm, and smart. Alo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good night— even with everything they were in the middle of.
“You ready to head back to the room?” Jack asked. They’d shared since Munich. Nobody seemed to question it.
“Yeah, I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Alo stood and put his coat back on. He waited for Jack, who did the same thing he’d done on the way in—put a hand on the small of Alo’s back, leading him through the crowd. Alo smiled to himself.
They walked out into a glittering swarm of snowflakes. The rooftops and gutters had already been clogged with snow the whole time they’d been there, but the new-falling snow turned everything magical. The buildings were blotches of color, streetlights shone like stars, and even the river, barely visible in the night, seemed to gleam.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Alo said. He’d never been anywhere that was so unreal, like the inside of a snow globe all glittery and perfect.
“Kind of like a fairy tale, isn’t it?” Jack slid his hand up Alo’s back until it was cupping his shoulder. Alo leaned closer and breathed the pristine mountain air.
“Yeah. It is a fairy tale.” He tilted his face up and let the snow fall onto it. Somehow it felt different, not like the snow he usually hated back home. Alo stuck out his tongue and tasted it. Jack laughed.
“And you wonder why I call you Baby Spice.”
Alo elbowed him. “Way to ruin my zen. Plus, you haven’t called me that in at least three hours.”
“An eternity,” Jack muttered. He pulled Alo closer. “C’mon. Let’s head back to the hotel.”
The walk back wasn’t any more talkative than the walk to the restaurant had been. Alo was too busy looking at the snow, and if he turned at the right time, he’d catch Jack watching him. Alo relaxed into his embrace and just let himself feel... giddy for once. He sure as hell hadn’t felt it before.
Their room felt overly warm compared to the chill outside. Alo stripped his coat and sweater off until he was in a T-shirt. He flopped down onto his bed and sighed.
They had to leave in the morning. They were flying this time, to Poland. Krakow. Another new place they’d zoom through. Alo honestly didn’t know what came after Poland. It was dizzying to try and remember the order Jack had mapped out. He just stuck to his job. Decipher the letters. Get the treasure to his mother in Florida.
“Hey, you mind if I take the first shower?” Jack asked.
“S-sure.” Alo willed himself not to think of Jack naked in the shower. Nope. Not at all.
Jack nodded and pulled his hair out of the band that usually tied it back. He stripped off his own sweater and shirt, and rummaged through his suitcase, shirtless. His back was so gorgeous, long and lean but broad shouldered. His skin looked soft, and like it was lit a little from within. Golden.
“You okay, Alo?”
Alo hadn’t realized Jack was watching him with a grin.
“Yeah. I’m good. No problems. Why?”
Jack just chuckled. “You sure you’re okay with me taking a
shower?”
Alo choked. “Fine.”
“See you when I get out.”
Alo spent the next ten minutes berating himself for looking like a twelve-year-old in front of what could’ve been the hottest man he’d ever met. By the time Jack got out of the shower, he was on his laptop, in his sweats, trying to act like he’d never gotten all tongue-tied at a half-naked Jack.
Jack came and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “What you working on?” he asked.
Alo frowned. “The irony of this whole trip is I have a bunch of work to do before classes resume in January. With the holidays when we get back, I’m going to be in a world of trouble if I don’t start on it now.”
“You do Christmas stuff with your family?” Jack asked. He quirked his eyebrows.
“Sort of. Obviously not the church part, but my family hasn’t ever been strict about not observing the secular aspects of it. My mom and dad have no problems with putting up some pretty decorations and passing out a few gifts since we’re rarely all free at any other time.”
“So it’ll be busy when we get back?”
Alo nodded. Although the thought of being back home in the middle of everything normal was already alien to him.
“I can’t imagine being able to concentrate on classwork in the middle of something like this.”
“I’m not. Not really.”
Jack smirked. “Something distracting you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Did you decide to go late-night fishing?”
Alo couldn’t help it. Sometimes his smart mouth got to him. Jack cracked up laughing.
“I really like you, Alo Green.”
“I like you too. Despite my better judgment.” Alo said it with a smile, so Jack knew he was joking.
Jack didn’t move after that. Stayed perched on the side of Alo’s bed shirtless and slightly damp. Alo didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to whatever was on his computer screen. All he could concentrate on was Jack’s skin, his lips, his eyes, the way his damp hair flipped up a little on the ends. Alo licked his lips.
“Jack?” he finally said.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” He didn’t want Jack to leave. But something had to happen.
“Sitting here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m waiting for you to notice that I want to kiss you.”
/> Alo’s mouth dropped open. He froze for a moment, then shoved his laptop off his lap and reached for Jack. Jack chuckled into the first kiss, sank his fingers into Alo’s hair, and tugged him closer. Alo groaned. It had been days. And he’d missed this.
“You okay with lying down?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course.”
Alo tried to get back to kisses and Jack’s skin and how his weight felt solid and comforting on top of Alo. Jack went back to kissing, and Alo nearly groaned in relief. He hadn’t been imagining how good Jack’s kisses felt. How he took control but was so gentle. Alo ran his hands up Jack’s back. His skin was as soft as it looked, still a bit tacky from the shower. Warm. Jack lifted his head up.
“You still drive me crazy, you know.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
They kissed for a long time after that. Alo couldn’t get enough of Jack’s taste, the way he surrounded Alo, how his hair fell damp and soft onto Alo’s face. He never wanted to stop kissing. It was only when Jack ground his hips into Alo’s that he even thought of more.
Alo groaned.
“Hey, kid?” Jack whispered.
“Are you really calling me that now?”
Jack chuckled. “Yep. What’s okay? Can I touch you?”
“I haven’t....” Alo didn’t want to say it out loud. He was twenty- fucking-two years old, and it was embarrassing. “But yes. Please.”
Jack pulled back a little, concerned. Exactly the reaction that Alo was not looking for. “When you say you haven’t, what exactly do you mean?”
“Jesus. Just touch me. Please. I don’t particularly want to feel like a sixth grader, and this conversation is getting dangerously close.”
“Alo. What haven’t you done?”
Alo sighed. “Basically anything, okay? I was nerdy. I am nerdy. The most I’ve ever managed was a few nights of making out and playing grabass behind the mess hall with Ben Feuerstein at math camp senior year.”
That was probably the least hot thing Alo could’ve said. He wanted to punch himself. Who brings up goddamn math camp in bed with a hot sort of famous older man? Alo. That’s who.
“Math camp? I thought you were more a humanities kind of guy.”
