by A. E. Wasp
Alex snorted. “Easy for you to say; you’re a millionaire. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”
“Why is money such a big deal? You work. You have good job.”
Alex shook his head and looked at Sergei as if he were the innocent child this time. “You really don’t live in the real world do you? Must be nice. Yeah, I work. But Seattle is expensive, and I only work part-time. I don’t have health insurance. No savings. Do you know what the average rent is in this city?”
Sergei shook his head.
“No. Of course you don’t.”
Sergei hated the defeated tone in Alex’s voice. “Are you — were you — with Chuck just for the money?” he asked more sharply than he’d intended. “Or do you love him?” Sergei found himself holding his breath while he waited for an answer.
Alex scrunched up his face. “No. To both of those things. I definitely didn’t love him.”
Sergei exhaled. Thank God.
“But I like him. Liked him.”
“He is married.” Not that that was a big mark against him. Sergei knew of many people with a lover on the side, but Alex deserved to be more than that. If he had Alex, he would never need someone else.
Alex sighed. “Obviously I didn’t know that before tonight when he mentioned going on vacation with his wife!”
Sergei couldn’t hold back his growl. “That is not something to be mad at, that is something to be glad for.”
Alex turned to stare at him. He’d been doing that a lot this evening, as if he couldn’t believe what Sergei was saying. “Fuck you, Sergei. You don’t get to decide that! This is my life.”
“But, but that man…” Sergei shook his head. “I don’t like his hands on you.” The muscle in Sergei’s jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.
The cats complained loudly as Alex thumped on the top of the carrier. “Je m’en câlisse! If you have a problem with who I’m with, you talk to me like an adult, you don’t go threatening them in their own house and treating me like a fucking child! C’est-tu clair?”
Sergei didn’t answer him. Alex didn’t care what Sergei thought? He damn well should.
“Do. You. Understand?” Alex repeated in English.
“Oui,” he said reluctantly. Then he changed his mind. “No. No, I do not. I do not understand at all.”
Alex sighed deeply pressing his fingers into his temples. “It doesn’t matter what you think. When it comes to my relationships, I get to make my own decisions, my own mistakes. I’m not a child, and I don’t need rescuing.”
“I don’t think of you as a child. And I was not trying to rescue you.” Except, if he was being honest with himself, he had been trying to save Alex from Chuck’s clutches. Was that so wrong? “I was fighting for you. Like, like in the stories. Lancelot fighting for Guinevere.” Even as he said that, he knew it had not been the right thing to say.
“I’m a big boy now. I can fight my own battles,” Alex said through clenched teeth.
Sergei roared with frustration and slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. Alex jumped, jostling the cat carrier. The cats’ claws scrabbled on the plastic floor and they meowed loudly in protest. “You should not have to.”
“No, I should be able to take care of myself. But I think we’ve proven that I can’t, haven’t we? Or I wouldn’t be in this car right now. I wouldn’t have put myself in this position where I just moved from one man taking care of me to the next without even one minute in between!”
“Alex, no. Never—“
“Spare me whatever you are about to say. I know, you’re disgusted with me. I’m pathetic. I’m a whore.” Alex sounded more bitter than Sergei could ever remember hearing him sound. “Let’s be blunt. I can’t take care of myself, so I sleep with men who can take care of me. And then when they turn out to be dicks, I need rescuing.”
“No!” Sergei yelled, slamming the steering wheel again. The sports car jolted to the left in response.
“Sorry!” Alex said. “I’m not trying to make you angry.” He curled in on himself, looking small and sad in the passenger’s seat. Sergei wanted to gather him in his arms. He thought about pulling over, but they were so close to home, and the cats would not appreciate being in the cage longer than they had to be.
“No, zaichick. I am not angry with you,” Sergei said firmly. “I am not angry with you. You are not pathetic or a whore. You are a good man who deserves better.”
“I’m a kept man. I sleep in a place I can’t afford, I wear clothes I can’t afford, and I have sex with a man who can afford them so I can keep sleeping and wearing the clothes and eating. What’s the difference between me and a whore?”
“The difference is somebody who loved you would not make you feel that way.”
“I don’t want to need someone to take care of me,” Alex said.
“Do you want someone to want to take care of you?” Sergei asked.
“Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t? Don’t you want someone to want to take care of you?”
Sergei considered the question. No one had taken care of him in so long. Sure, he had a team of professionals on hand to make sure his physical needs were met. The team even employed counselors and therapists to help players navigate the stressful world of professional sports where you could be traded to another team at the drop of a hat and where the eye of the public was on you all the time, judging you and criticizing how you did something they wouldn’t be able to do in a million years. “I do not know. I am not sure how someone could take care of me. Do you mean feed me and clean my clothes?”
Alex shook his head. “No, not exactly. Someone who looks out for you. Who makes sure you are taking care of yourself and does little things to make your life easier just because they love you.”
“I have you for that.” Sergei smiled. Alex was forever asking him if he’d gotten enough sleep, and if he was taking some time to do something that wasn’t hockey related. Sadly, the answer to that question was usually no.
“Okay, then, that begs up another question. What makes a relationship different from friendship?” Alex asked. “Is it just sexual? Because if you take sex out of the equation, we’re in a relationship. I like being with you better than anyone else.”
Sergei was beginning to think they were in a relationship. Now he just had to find a way to let Alex know. “Is that what love is to you? Only a—how do you say it?—friend with benefits?”
“Best friend with benefits,” Alex said, holding up his finger. “I mean it does sound a little sad when you put it like that. But what else is there? People decide to stay together because they don’t want to be alone and they like each other well enough, and the sex is okay.”
Sergei was starting to believe he would be interested in exploring some of those benefits with Alex. But Alex’s definition of love didn’t sound like what Sergei had always hoped he would find. He didn’t think it was what Alex had always hoped for either. He had a feeling that it was what his friend was willing to settle for, that it was all he thought he deserved.
Despite having only had a fleeting experience with it, Sergei still believed in love. He thought Alex wanted to believe in it, as well. “What about love? What about romance? You do not do romance things with best friends.”
“Romance?” Alex asked skeptically. “Like buying flowers for somebody and long walks on the beach? Candlelit dinners.” Alex raised one eyebrow. “Going to Paris?”
“Sure. If those are romantic things for you.”
Alex laughed. “I’ve done all those things with you. As a matter of fact, I think we had a candlelight dinner in Paris.”
They had, a few years ago. Sergei smiled at the memory. Alex had been so animated. Talking to the waiter, laughing at the difference in their French. Sergei had given up trying to follow and just let the language roll over him and enjoyed seeing his friend so happy.
Alex fell silent, and Sergei wondered if Alex was starting to come to his own revelations. He pushed further down his line of thinking. “So, if it is
not the thing itself that is romantic then what makes a something special? Why does dinner with me not count as romantic?” Sergei asked.
“Because we are just friends?” Alex said.
Sergei wished he could read Alex’s mind. It was probably too much to hope that Alex was starting to question if they were ‘just friends.’ “If we were friends who were having sex, then would it be romantic?” Sergei asked.
“Crisse, I don’t know. Obviously the two of us are morons about the whole thing. Maybe love is like porn? You know it when you see it?”
Sergei shared his frustration at the circular nature of the conversation. “Well, what is it, then? What is this mysterious thing that takes a friendship and elevates it to some special status?”
“Love, I guess? Sex?”
And it came back to that. What even was love? Suddenly he had to know how Alex defined love. “Have you ever been in love?”
Alex shrugged. “You mean like eyes meet across the room and suddenly you can’t live without that person and they are the air you breathe kind of love?”
“Yes,” Sergei said.
“I am not sure that that is real,” Alex said sidestepping the question.
“I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore,” Sergei confessed.
Alex laughed. “That makes two of us. So, a relationship is love plus sex with someone you do romantic things with that you don’t want to live without?” Alex asked.
“I guess so,” Sergei said.
“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t want to have sex with me, or we would have to get married,” Alex said as they turned the corner to Sergei’s street.
The way Alex spoke as if he knew everything about Sergei irritated him suddenly. “How do you know I do not want to have sex with you?” he asked before he could stop himself. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. He wouldn’t look at Alex. Couldn’t.
“Um, because you never did before?” Alex said cautiously.
Sergei decided to stop saying anything before he made more of an ass of himself. He felt Alex’s gaze boring into the side of his head as he drove slowly down the block.
“Well,” Alex aid with a forced laugh. “It you did ever want to have sex, you’re going to have to put a ring on it. I’m done giving away the milk for free.”
“Milk?” That made Sergei look over at Alex.
Alex shook his head. “Never mind. But if you do feel the need to ask me to marry you one day, I expect a big production. Something with flash mobs and choreography. Surprise guests. Maybe even television cameras.” He smiled at Sergei to show he was joking. As if he and Sergei getting married was the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.
All Sergei could think was I’m not letting you leave me again.
5
Alex
Alex heart thumped when he realized Sergei wasn’t laughing. What the hell? Did Sergei actually want to have sex with him? Since when? He wanted to grab Sergei and shake him, demand answers. Since when? How long have you thought about that way? How many years have I been fantasizing about you when we could have been doing it for real?
Damn it. No. He had to be reading the situation wrong. It had been a long night. They were both tired and upset.
A few lights shone through the curtains of Sergei’s blue house when they pulled into the heated two-car garage. Alex loved this house. A gorgeous craftsman with stunning views of either the bay or the Olympic Mountains from almost every room, it was everything Alex had ever wanted in a home.
Unfortunately, despite spending more than two million dollars on its purchase, Sergei didn’t seem as enamored of the house as Alex. Alex had only been to the house a handful of times in the last few years, and he remembered it as being beautiful but empty inside. He and the house had that in common.
What a weird, awful night. Charles had managed to poison the energy between him and Sergei. Even if Sergei didn’t really want to be with Alex, there was something on his mind, for sure. He was probably disgusted at Alex for being such a tramp.
Alex closed his eyes, took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. He shook his head rapidly back and forth, shook out his arms and hands, and then took another deep breath, inhaling and exhaling to a count of ten.
When he opened his eyes, he could see Sergei staring at him in the reflection of the windshield. He smiled. Sergei didn’t.
“It’s okay,” he said, laying a hand on Sergei’s arm.
“Oui?”
Alex shrugged, a fluid, wave of his shoulders he had picked up from his beautiful mother. “It will be. It always is.”
Unsmiling, Sergei stared at Alex, so he took the opportunity to study the face he knew almost as well as his own. He hadn’t a chance to reconnect with Sergei the way they normally did after a separation. Alex had gone right from the cruise ship job to living in the condo. Maybe things shouldn’t be as easy as they had to. He owed it to Sergei to make an effort to fix things between them.
At thirty-one, Sergei looked a little older than Alex’s mental snapshot. His full beard and dark hair were shot through with more silver than he’d had a year ago. His dark brown eyes had more crows’ feet around them but they were still beautiful and warm with concern and not a little confusion.
Torvill and Dean scratched at the cat carrier and meowed loudly, protesting their continued imprisonment.
Alex broke the intense eye contact first. “Shall we go inside? As much as I love your car, it’s a little small to sleep in.”
“Yes. Of course.” Sergei hit the latch, and the door floated up to the ceiling with a pneumatic hiss. Sergei swiveled his legs out to stand, only to be yanked back by his still-buckled seatbelt.
Unsuccessfully suppressing a snicker, Alex made a much more graceful exit. Leaving Sergei to get the suitcase, he walked the two steps up to the door and into the house.
Alex set the cat carrier down on the granite kitchen island and crossed the room, ignoring the restless shifting and piteous mewls of its occupants.
He didn’t bother turning on the lights, his eye drawn as always to views out floor—to—ceiling windows that opened onto a deck that ran the length of the house. From the modest rise of Queen Anne Hill, Alex could see lights tumbling down the side of the hill, across the road, and down to the water.
Christmas lights outlined windows and rooflines and the bare branches of trees. Traditional white or multicolored blinking lights vied with purple, pink, and blue neon-hued LEDs. Most of the windows in the houses lower down the hill were dark, but the occasional yellow glow or the telltale blue flicker of a monitor revealed a few night owls working late or simply enjoying the stillness of the midnight hour.
Cars crossed the bridge in ribbons of red taillights and white headlights. Bobbing pinpricks of red, green, and white buoy lights pulled Alex’s gaze to the ferries slowly crossing the bay. Alex imagined he could hear the mournful cry of the foghorns and the sharp long-short-short blast of a whistle as each ferry approached the dock.
Across the water, the mountains loomed, the Olympic range little more than a blacker darkness against the night. From high atop the peaks, the faint red lights of cell and radio towers warned low-flying planes of the danger hidden in the dark.
The overhead light flicked on, obscuring most of the view and revealing in reflection Sergei standing behind Alex, his hand still on the light switch. He held the box of china in one hand, and the suitcase leaned against his leg. He was staring at Alex as if he had never seen him in quite this way before.
“I would never get tired of this view,” Alex said, meeting Sergei’s eyes in the reflection.
Sergei’s gaze moved away from Alex’s face to focus on the distant lights. “I forget to look,” Sergei admitted. “I am mostly in the study or my bedroom. Do you want something to eat? Or drink? Tea?”
Tea actually sounded perfect, especially the way Sergei made it. Normally, he or Sergei would have started it as a matter of course, but nothing about this night was nor
mal.
“Tea sounds perfect. I need to let the beasties out. I’ll put my stuff in the guest room.” He reached for the suitcase.
Sergei gripped the handle. “I will take it. But I think the small bedroom this time, no? You are not a guest. You are…family.”
Family. Okay. That was safe, sounded accurate. Ironically, moving from his usual guest room to an actual bedroom made Alex feel more like a stranger than ever.
Alex wanted to bang his head against the wall. Why did Sergei have to have start acting weird now? Crisse de tabarnak, his timing sucked. Alex had been dreaming of being with Sergei most of his life.
And now that Sergei seemed to be having some sort of revelation, Alex couldn’t remember ever being less ready to be in a relationship. Whatever was going on, he was going to ignore it for tonight. They could address the elephant in the room tomorrow. He climbed the steps up to the second floor.
The smaller of the two master bedrooms in the house, the ‘small’ room was still huge. It came complete with a wet bar and wine fridge in the corner. For those middle of the night cocktail urges rich people got, Alex assumed. Of course the deck had views of the water, and the en suite bathroom had a steam shower big enough for three, with a bench seat and two different types of shower heads.
All of which was wasted on Sergei, like most of the house. Alex knew Sergei spent most of his time either in the kitchen or his bookcase-lined den. He had never had a party or even had people over for dinner.
“I didn’t even know you had a bed in here,” Alex commented.
“Came with house,” Sergei admitted.
The thought that the mattress may have been used by strangers gave Alex a second’s pause before he decided it was no worse than a hotel and way better than some of the places he’d stayed over the years. Take Sochi, for example. Alex shuddered at the memory.
In between shooting looks at Alex when he thought Alex couldn’t see him, Sergei stormed around the room, cursing in Russian and muttering to himself about the lack of curtains, towels, toiletries, and toilet paper.
