by Jerry Cole
“Shut up,” Steve bit out, because that thought was overwhelming.
Bobby’s laugh was gentler. “At least we can be sure you won’t let it go to your head.”
Steve smiled as he settled back in the couch, running his fingers over the pamphlet on his lap. “Not sure I’d believe it. Besides,” he continued. “I’ll always have you around to keep me straight.”
There was silence on the end of the phone, and Steve paused, knowing what he’d said and not sure how to take it back. He was surprised when Bobby let out a slow breath, sounding delighted when he said, “If you want me to be.”
“Of course, I do,” Steve said without hesitation. “I love you, don’t I?”
“Doesn’t mean forever,” Bobby pointed out, but he was breathless with happiness, and Steve could understand why. “Except it does, apparently.”
“It does,” Steve assured him. “You should come over.”
Jamie said something under his breath, throwing one of the cushions at Steve’s head. Sam was equally as disgusted.
“We’re clearing out,” Sam said, poking Jamie until he stood up. “If you’re gonna be gross over here.”
Steve hung up on Bobby after their goodbyes and told both Sam and Jamie to fuck off if they were going be insufferable. Jamie told him to stay safe, Sam assured him they’d be home in a couple of hours, so get it done quick, and Steve flipped them both off as he shut the door. Dicks.
There was a knock at the door a half hour later, and Steve felt ridiculous jogging over to the door, but he was excited. When he tugged it open, Bobby was shifting from foot to foot on the other side, and Steve didn’t feel self-conscious about tugging him inside, immediately kissing him hard.
“Hel-lo,” Bobby laughed, wrapping an arm around his neck and shuffling Steve backward, kicking the door closed. “Fuck.”
“Forever,” Steve said, biting at Bobby’s bottom lip and sliding a hand up the back of Bobby’s jacket. He held him close, could feel Bobby’s dick hard in his jeans. Oddly enough, Steve didn’t want to go any further and he pulled away, kissing Bobby softly before he did so. “Did you really like it?”
Bobby sighed, but there was no exasperation in his face or tone, only reassurance. “I wouldn’t tell you I did if I didn’t, Steve. You know how I feel about all of your sketches and photographs.”
Bobby followed Steve down the hall, still holding onto his hand. Steve offered him a drink, and Bobby leaned against the counter while Steve put the coffee maker on.
“What are your plans now?” Bobby asked.
“More pictures,” Steve said slowly, back to the cupboards. “Of other things besides your face.”
“As fun as it’s been to be your muse,” Bobby agreed, “I think variety is always good. You deserve people to see how good you are at more than portraits.”
Steve watched Bobby carefully, the expression on Bobby’s face was soft and open. “You’re always so supportive.”
“So?”
“I never ask about your stuff,” Steve admitted slowly. “I don’t understand what you do, but that’s not really an excuse.”
Bobby shrugged, coming around the counter to stand in front of Steve. He rested his hands on Steve’s hips, and leaned up to kiss his chin. “You know I don’t care about that, right?”
“I do though,” Steve pressed, because he realized only now how terrible that was. What kind of boyfriend wasn’t supportive of their significant other?
“Listen,” Bobby said. “You can come stay around mine more often, all right, and see what I do.”
Steve smiled. He didn’t know why he hadn’t been spending more time at Bobby’s, only he knew it was mostly Helena’s apartment, and he wasn’t sure he was completely welcome, which in retrospect was ridiculous. Bobby had never made him feel anything less than that. “Maybe I will.”
The decision made, it actually took a couple of days for Steve to go to Bobby’s. He had classes and assignments, and previous promised evenings with Sam, Jamie, and Noah respectively. Bobby didn’t seem to mind. He was busy with his own classes, but Steve didn’t press, and Bobby didn’t offer.
“Come on,” Bobby said, tugging Steve into the elevator, when they finally found the time. “I can’t wait to show you what I’ve been working on.”
Steve was excited. He had seen some of the tech scattered around the apartment, and he couldn’t deny he was intrigued to know what they belonged with. Bobby kept talking, right up until the doors opened, and he was so busy explaining to Steve about his project he didn’t see the two guys standing outside his apartment, but Steve did.
“Bobby,” he said, nudging Bobby’s shoulder.
“What?” Bobby looked away from Steve and froze when he saw the two figures outside his apartment. “Can I help you?”
The taller of the two men was burly, arms clasped in front of him in the traditional bodyguard pose. The other was dressed in a suit, hair slicked back, and he was handsome in a way that might have interested Steve if he wasn’t with Bobby.
“We’re looking for Bobby Connors,” the smaller man said. “My name’s Edwin Gregory.”
“I know who you are,” Bobby said quickly, and he darted a look at Steve, before turning back to the men. “What do you want?”
“We found this,” Gregory said, holding out the college pamphlet. “The picture inside was very informative, and we have someone who wants to talk to you.”
Bobby’s jaw was clenched tightly, and it made Steve bristle. He didn’t know who the men were, but they were obviously not welcome.
“I don’t think he wants to talk to you,” Steve said, keeping his voice even, but drawing himself up to his full height.
The smile on Bobby’s face had an edge to it, but he stepped a little closer to Steve, as if to draw comfort from him. Steve rested a hand at the base of his spine.
“You would be Steve Mitchell,” Gregory said, and there was an edge to his smile as well.
“Gregory,” Bobby snapped. “We both know I don’t want anything to do with whatever you’re offering, so fuck off.”
The bodyguard bristled at that, but Gregory held up a hand, his expression shifting into something close to affectionate. Steve was startled. Who was this man?
When he stepped forward, Gregory had his hands out in front of him, as if Bobby was a spooked horse. Steve narrowed his eyes, but Gregory’s attention was all on Bobby. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you before now, but I’m here to extend the olive branch.”
Bobby smirked. “No, you’re here because Dad suddenly wants to know me. Do you know how long ago Mom died?”
“Yes,” Gregory said, and it was the first flash of honest emotion Steve had seen on his face.
There was something else bothering Steve. “You said you didn’t know your dad.”
Gregory’s eyes glittered. “You haven’t told him who you are, have you?”
Steve frowned. “What’s he talking about Bobby?”
Bobby looked stricken, and he swallowed, not looking at Steve. “I don’t want any part of that life and you know it. That’s nothing to do with me.”
“Unfortunately for you,” Gregory said. “Unless you formally abdicate, that has everything to do with you.”
“Abdicate?” Steve asked, and he felt sick. God, what? Everything was crashing over him and he had to take a step back, running his hands over his face. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and Bobby looked as if he wanted to touch him, but Steve moved out of the way. God, how could he have been so stupid? There had been signs, and he had just ignored them.
“Steve,” Bobby said, his voice broken.
“Bobby,” Gregory said. “We need you to come with us.”
Bobby shook his head. “No. I’m not coming. Tell Dad to shove it up his ass.”
The bodyguard narrowed his eyes once again, and Steve thought, hysterically, that they were going to get shot if Bobby kept running his mouth. Except it was probably treason to shoot the son of grand prince
. Oh God, Bobby was the heir to the throne.
“I wanted to tell you,” Bobby said, and Steve realized he’d spoken the words aloud. “All the time.”
“I joked about it,” Steve said, and his voice sounded strange. “You said—you didn’t say anything. You said what the fuck, but you didn’t say no.”
Bobby’s eyes were wide, and he looked wretched, but Steve shook it off, betrayed.
Gregory cleared his throat and turned to say something to the bodyguard, too low for Steve to pick up. When he turned back to Bobby, he looked a little apologetic. “We’ll leave you to sort this out.”
“You mean you can leave now you’ve fucked it up?” Bobby snapped. “I told you so many times I didn’t want a part of it, and you came when I was with Steve on purpose!”
“We came,” Gregory said carefully, his voice steel, “because we realized where you were. Bobby, this isn’t a game.”
“No, this is my life,” Bobby snapped, and if Steve’s emotions weren’t in turmoil, the surge of protectiveness he felt might have spurred him to get between Bobby and Gregory. Bobby’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t care what you tell him but leave. Now.”
Gregory looked as if he was going to argue, but Bobby turned away, hands clenched into fists. Realizing that perhaps he wasn’t going to get what he came for, Gregory sighed. “I am sorry.”
“Bullshit,” Bobby said, eyes shut tightly, leaving Gregory with no other option but to leave. Gregory and the bodyguard did so, and neither Steve nor Bobby spoke until the elevator doors had closed.
Steve didn’t know what to do with himself. “Fuck.”
“Steve,” Bobby said, stricken.
“I need,” Steve said, swallowing, and clenching his hands together. “I can’t be here right now.”
Bobby took an aborted step forward, folding his arms across his chest. “Please don’t leave. I can’t—please.”
Steve hated the sound of pain in Bobby’s voice and part of him wanted to stay, but he couldn’t think straight. He needed time, couldn’t get his mind around the information swirling through it. “I’ll call Helena,” he promised. “I swear.”
There was silence, and when Steve risked a look, Bobby was staring at the door to his apartment, eyes wet, and jaw set. Steve’s heart ached, but his head was a mess and if he didn’t do this, he didn’t want to imagine how terrible things between them could grow.
“Bobby, I just need time. All right?”
“Sure,” Bobby said, his voice breaking.
Steve hesitated, but he headed for the elevator, trying to ignore how badly his hands were shaking. He pulled out his phone, dialing through to Helena.
“I thought you and Bobby were at the apartment,” Helena said, as soon as she picked up. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost him.”
“Helena,” Steve said, and he didn’t want to know what his voice sounded like to have Helena suck in a breath like that. “Bobby needs you right now. I can’t—I had to leave, but he needs you.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Helena snapped, and even if Steve understood it, he felt annoyed that he was instantly at fault.
“Someone came visiting,” Steve said, his voice hard. “Someone from the palace, I should assume.”
Helena cursed, and Steve shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew. “Steve, I’m sorry. I know he wanted to tell you.”
“Whatever,” Steve said, because he didn’t want to talk about it, not really. “He needs you. I can’t be around him right now.”
“Steve,” Helena said, and Steve instantly knew he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say.
“Helena, please. I don’t—I’ll talk to him, just not now.”
Thankfully, Helena promised she would be back at the apartment, and Steve hung up, head thumping back against the elevator wall.
He didn’t remember much of getting back to his own apartment and was grateful it was empty when he arrived. He rested against the door, felt his eyes burn, and slid down the wood to the floor, burying his face in his arm and feeling the tears run down his face. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Chapter Fifteen
Steve had moved to the couch, curled up watching some animal program on TV, phone nestled in the crook of his elbow. Bobby had been texting him—and calling—and though Steve forced himself to read each one, to listen to every message, he couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Though he tried not to think about it, it had been playing in the back of his head anyway. He had a lot of questions; why Bobby hadn’t said anything, who his mother was, if anyone knew who Bobby really was. None of them seemed to come out the right way when he tried typing them into his phone.
The door to the apartment opened, and Sam and Jamie came down the hall. They were both uncharacteristically quiet, which meant they knew. Fuck.
“Steve,” Jamie said, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Helena called.”
“Great,” Steve said, impassive. He kept his eyes on the TV screen, not wanting to see the expressions on their faces. Jamie would probably say some variation of I told you so or I never liked him, and Sam would just—well he wasn’t the pitying kind—but Steve didn’t want to look at him.
Jamie nudged him with a shoulder, and Steve bit back a curse. Jamie kept it up for a while, and eventually Steve’s hand shot out, curling around Jamie’s wrist.
“Stop it!”
Jamie turned the grip around, and his fingers were tight enough to have Steve looking him in the eye. “Listen to me.”
“What?” Steve growled low in his throat. “He’s been lying to me the entire time! What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Talk to the guy. Did you even give him a chance to explain?”
Steve was incredulous and shoved away from Jamie, moving up to back against the arm. “I felt sick. I couldn’t even think straight. I’m allowed time to try and get my head around it!”
“I get it, man,” Sam said, his voice quiet. When Steve turned back to look over his shoulder, Sam was leaning against the breakfast counter, but he was staring straight at Steve. “I know you’re hurting, and you deserve to be, because it’s a shock. You love the guy though, surely he deserves the chance to explain?”
It made sense, but Steve felt betrayed and lied to. Why could nobody understand that he needed time? It wasn’t an easy thing to come to terms with. “I will talk to him. Just not now.”
“All right,” Sam said, holding up his hands.
“No, it’s not all right,” Jamie snapped, and his eyes were narrowed. “We’ve spent months listening to you get ridiculous over how much Bobby means to you and how in love with him you are, and you’re gonna let him go over this? I don’t get it,” Jamie said, when Steve opened his mouth. “He lied, I know, but did you think about why he was lying? The fact that maybe he doesn’t want to be the person you now think he is, or the guy who you loved, and who loved you?”
For Jamie, it was eloquent, and it made Steve’s breath catch in his throat. It was a fair assessment and he pressed his hands to his face, breathing out slowly, trying to think through the maelstrom of emotions. “Fuck.”
His phone vibrated on the arm, and Steve fumbled for it, unsurprised to see that it was Bobby. He hesitated only a fraction, and then answered the call, closing his eyes.
“Steve,” Bobby said, and his voice sounded raw, as if he’d been crying the entire time. Not that it sounded like an unfair assumption. “Oh God.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, and he spoke past the lump in his throat, free hand clenched in his lap. “I shouldn’t have run away.”
Bobby swallowed audibly. “You should have. Steve, I’m sorry, I know I should have said something, but I just want—I want to explain.”
“And I wanna hear it,” Steve said gently. “Maybe we could,” he paused, darting a look at Jamie, who nodded encouragingly. “Maybe we could meet up?”
Bobby hurried to res
pond, letting out a quick breath. “Yes, yeah please. Maybe not—maybe not our apartments? Campus?”
It was a good idea. Somewhere neutral, that gave them both a chance to escape if it became too much. Steve never thought he’d be in this position, needing to run away from Bobby, and it shook him a little. “Will this afternoon be all right?”
“Yeah,” Bobby said shakily. “I’ll meet you by the fountain. Steve, I love you.”
Steve couldn’t stop the sob from rising in his throat. “I love you too.”
That had never been in question, and Steve doubted it ever would be. However uncertain he was about the future, his love for Bobby couldn’t be thrown away so easily. Hanging up, Steve tipped his head against the couch and focused on the camels currently trekking their way across the desert on the TV.
Jamie was staring at him, but apparently, he’d grown patient in the last five minutes, because it was Steve who broke first. “I told him I’d meet him this afternoon and we can talk about it.”
“That’s good,” Sam offered.
“Hopefully,” Steve said. He didn’t know how it was going to go and while that was part of the problem, Bobby did deserve a chance to explain himself.
“It’ll be fine,” Jamie told him, and Steve wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he appreciated the efforts to make him feel better.
It seemed to take forever for the time to tick over to when he had to leave. His chest was tight the entire time, panic forcing him to pace until Jamie snapped he needed to sit the fuck down. Eventually, Sam had given him his phone, keys, and told him to get out before they threw him out.
The college campus was mostly empty, and Steve appreciated they’d have some privacy. It was hard to sit on the benches by the fountain, knowing that not long ago, Bobby had been sprawled over his shoulder, throwing compliments about Steve’s work. Work that was directly responsible for Steve finding out what was going on.
Fuck. This was so messed up.
“Hi,” Bobby said, and Steve looked up to see him hovering awkwardly by the benches. He looked awful; his face was red and streaked—hadn’t even bothered to wash his face before leaving—and he was hunched over, hands in his pockets.
