by A. M. Rose
“Um, yes, for him. I was thinking something a little less strong,” he hinted. He didn’t want to embarrass the guy outright for his mistake.
The bartender didn’t look embarrassed. He actually smiled wider and leaned in again. “Want me to surprise you with a special?”
“Sounds… fine?” he said as a question.
The bartender set to work.
Drew turned back to Ben who was laughing into his fist. “What?”
The handyman shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. You don’t happen to have a significant other back in San Fran, do you?”
“What? No!” Drew spluttered.
“Just checking,” Ben chirped.
Drew opened his mouth to question further, but a bright white drink was thrust in front of his face in that moment.
“I call it a Sex in the Snow,” the bartender explained with a coy smile. “It’s pretty popular this time of year.”
“Oh… thanks. It looks great!”
It did look appetizing. It had coconut shards frosted around the rim and actual snowflakes seemed to be swirling around the drink like smoke. Crowe blew on a tiny emerald green umbrella, and it popped open with a fall of silver glitter that dissipated into nothing. He set it in the drink. “Let me know how you like it,” he murmured before flouncing off again.
Drew cupped the drink and took a sip, eyebrows raising. It was sweet, a little milky and had a whole lot of coconut. He couldn’t taste the alcohol at all. He turned to Ben. “You have to try this!”
“Sex in the Snow? Sounds adventurous,” Ben joked, but he accepted the drink to try. He ended up polishing the drink off like it was water.
“Hey!” Drew complained.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The next round of those is on you.”
Crowe laughed when he ordered four more, throwing in a few shots of pink glittery liquid for ‘free’ with a wink. Drew glanced down at his green and gold umbrellas happily before clinking his shot glass with Ben and throwing it back.
Ben coughed. “Damn… I need to go drinking with you more often. Free drinks galore.”
“I’m sure it was some sort of deal,” Drew mumbled, smacking his lips a few times as he looked for any type of promotional poster or sign.
“Yeah, sure. It’s not just because the bartender finds you attractive,” Ben mumbled into his glass.
Drew whipped his head towards him. “Wha… no, no, that’s not…”
Ben snickered. “Mason never mentioned you were this oblivious, but I should have guessed really, considering the current situation…”
His brow furrowed. “With the bartender?”
“With Mason.”
Drew took another shot, feeling it burn as much as his face was. “There is no situation with me and Mason,” he denied.
“Another thing I’ve learnt, you’re a lousy liar,” Ben declared, following with his own shot. “I live with one, so I’ve had practice.”
Drew deflated and rubbed at his beard agitatedly. His fingers were already feeling a little tingly at the edges. “Things are… complicated.”
It didn’t invite further conversation, and Ben hummed in understanding.
They drank again in silence for a while, ordering a couple more cocktails and simply listening to the ambient noise and the instruments.
Eventually Drew found himself squirming on his stool, thoughts in his head begging to come out. “I had my chance with him, you know? And I fucked it up.”
He took another drink, setting it down and twirling his little umbrellas between his fingers.
“You’re here now and you stuck around,” Ben said simply. “I don’t know what that means for you, and I’m not going to preach to you about what I think you should do. But I just think that that counts for something,” he finished with a shrug.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Drew revealed honestly. “I didn’t expect… well, I didn’t know what I expected coming back here. I thought I would only be here a couple days, but I saw Mason… god… and now things are more complicated than when I left, and I didn’t think that was even possible!”
“Have you told him this?” Ben asked.
“That I don’t have a clue what I’m doing with my life, and I’m a huge mess? I think he got that memo ten years ago,” he said wryly.
Ben finished his fourth… fifth?... drink off. “You should tell him anyway.”
“What? Just knock on his door and say hey, Mase! I’m an absolute disaster, but I think you’re still the best thing on this planet, and you probably hate me, but I think we should date...”
Ben stared at him before reaching for the next drink Crowe placed in front of them. “Well, it’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”
“All right, I'm coming!” Mason yelled towards his door, as he tripped over his slipper and decided against trying to put it on again with a curse. His bare toes were freezing on the cold floor, and he regretted his decision to sleep without his socks. Not smart, Mason.
“Open uuuuuuup,” someone sang through his front door, and he frowned.
Was that… Ben?
He rushed towards the door, eyes catching on the large clock on his wall. It was one in the morning, what the hell, Ben! He reached the door in a few steps and turned the key. A crash could be heard, and he jumped back just in time to avoid being trampled by Ben and Drew as they barreled in. They kept themselves upright somehow, giggling like kids, and Mason crossed his arms across his chest, freezing his ass off and waiting for an explanation.
Finally, Drew looked up and saw him standing there. He got adorably confused, the deep frown on his forehead making it obvious until his gaze focused, and recognition lit him up like a firework.
“Hi!” he beamed, and no, Mason’s heart didn’t jump at just how cute he looked. “Ben… look… it’s Mason.”
Ben, for his part, straightened up and did his very best to look in control of his body. Flailing arms and shuffling feet told a different story. He stared at Mason for a long moment, as if trying to determine if it was really him.
“Yes, that’s a Mason,” he confirmed with a nod, and Drew tried to sloppily fist-bump Ben who took no notice.
“Awesome,” he exclaimed, and then turned to Ben again, pointing at Mason. “So pretty.”
Mason assumed he tried to whisper that part, but somehow, it came out even louder than anything else he had said thus far. He didn’t want to dwell on the words either. With his fleece pajamas and a hoody thrown on top, he doubted he painted a pretty picture. And he didn’t need to hear if Drew found him pretty.
They were friends.
“What are you doing here?” Mason asked, turning to Ben because despite all the swaying, he still looked more stable than Drew did.
“We were out…” Ben started, a slight slur making it a tiny bit difficult to understand.
“I gathered as much,” Mason said.
“A—and… there was a bar…”
“Also, fairly obvious.”
“Did you know you can get two umbrellas in your drink?” Drew interrupted suddenly, face alight like the best possible thing happened to him.
“That’s nice…” Mason smiled back at him, unable to resist.
“No… you can’t,” Ben said, frowning at Drew.
“Can too… I got two in mine…”
“That’s just ‘cause the bartender liked you,” Ben pouted, and Drew frowned once again, clearly mulling the words over in his head.
“Oh…” he said finally, shrugging like it didn’t really matter why he got them, as long as he got them.
“He didn’t pay for any of his drinks either,” Ben turned back to Mason to say. And for some reason, Mason felt his hackles rise at the words.
Friends… you’re friends!
“Okay!” he interrupted before any more talk of Drew and his new admirer could be had. “It’s late, and some of us work in the morning. Let’s get everyone home.”
“I can walk home all by my
self,” Drew said, and Mason let out a loud laugh as he located his phone and dialed Sage’s number.
“Sure you can. Why don’t you sit on the couch for a second while I see Ben out, hm?”
“’kay…” Drew acquiesced immediately, hobbling over and slumping down to the plush couch. He was out like a light by the time Sage picked up.
“Hello?” he answered groggily.
“Hi, Sage. Sorry to wake you up, but there’s a very drunk man looking incredibly like your boyfriend standing in my living room,” he said and snorted at the exasperated sigh Sage let out.
“Can you mail him to me?”
“I doubt they have a box large enough!”
“But I don’t wanna get up now. It’s late. And cold,” Sage whined.
“I can go home by myself too,” Ben added loudly, and Mason shook his head.
“Don’t let him walk alone. He’ll trip over his big feet and die on me. I’ll be there in five minutes,” Sage said before hanging up.
Mason put his phone in the pocket of his hoody and turned back to Ben who was humming to himself softly.
“Sage will be here soon. Do you want something to drink?”
“Sage?” he asked, a huge smile spreading on his face. Mason rolled his eyes but smiled, nonetheless.
“Yes, Sage. Water?” he asked again.
Ben shook his head. “No, thanks…”
Mason poured himself a glass and leaned his hip against his table as they waited. Drew was snoring softly on the couch.
“Y’know… the bartender really liked Drew,” Ben broke the silence after just a few moments, and Mason bristled again.
“Yeah, thanks…got that part,” he bit back, closing his eyes as soon as the words were out. Ben wasn’t to blame for his messed-up feelings for Drew.
“He didn’t like him back,” Ben proceeded as he examined the junk that had gotten piled up on his side table, blissfully unaware of just how much Mason didn’t want to talk about Drew’s love life.
“Ben…” he tried, but Ben leaned in towards him, a random cat figurine in hand.
“I think he likes you…” he said conspiratorially, making Mason almost choke on his water.
“I… what…?” he tried, but the sound of his front door opening saved him from having to say anything to that. “Sage? Oh, thank god!”
“Sorry about this,” Sage said as he came to stand in front of Ben, the handyman looking deliriously happy about seeing him. “Ready to go home?”
“Yeah. I’m hungry,” he whined and Sage sighed.
“I’ll make you a sandwich when we get home. Just start walking.” Sage herded Ben towards the door, divesting him of the cat figurine much to his sadness and then looked back to Mason.
“Want me to drive him back home too while I’m on the move?” He motioned to Drew with his head.
“Nah, he’s worse off than Ben. I’ll get some water in him and send him off in the morning,” he said, watching Drew as he snuffled on the couch, looking for a more comfortable position before giving up and just settling with his cheek smushed against the armrest.
“You do that.”
Sage threw him a wink, and Mason rolled his eyes at him.
“It’s not like that!”
“Sure it’s not. I’m out. Night, Mase!!” Sage threw over his shoulder and walked out, locking the door behind him.
He could hear Ben telling him all about the fun night he had and making him promise he’d make him that sandwich he mentioned earlier. Sage’s exasperated voice faded down his hallway, and then Mason was alone in his apartment with a sleeping Drew sprawled all over his couch.
Careful not to wake him up, he crept to the couch and sat on the armrest by Drew’s feet. He pulled the blanket he permanently kept over the back and spread it over his sleeping form. His apartment was still fairly warm as he had run his heater all day, but he didn’t want to take any chances and have Drew get sick.
Glancing down he saw his boots sticking out from under the blanket, covered in snow and spreading slush all over his floor. He sent a rush of magic to dry the little puddle and a small tendril of it to pull at Drew's shoelaces. He watched them coil in the air before a thought made him freeze. Drew was asleep and couldn't really think for himself. After what had happened to him... was it fair for Mason to use magic on him? No matter how small and benign…?
Letting the magic seep away he bent down, tugging the boots off his feet until they fell to the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the small apartment. Drew wiggled in his sleep before settling back down, snuggling into the couch cushions in a way that was just shy of adorable for a grown ass man.
Mason sighed, setting his elbow on the couch and setting his cheek in his hand to stare at him.
“You make this hard you know,” he whispered. “It’s funny because I always used to dream of this… not you being drunk, you ass… but tucking you into blankets in winter and watching you sleep. It’s stupid,” he muttered, cheeks burning in embarrassment. These were thoughts he could never tell anyone. Especially not Drew whilst he was awake.
“I spent so long petting your hair for you while you dosed on my lap growing up that it’s probably your fault,” he accused to make himself feel better.
Drew scrunched his nose in an unconscious response and Mason melted. “Not fair.”
He could have stayed in that moment, simply watching him sleep until sunrise… and he would have if it wasn’t for the horrendous noise that burst into his ears and echoed around the apartment all of a sudden. The cordless vacuum smashed into the cupboard door to open it and began its work around the room, heedless of the time of day, or night.
Mason groaned in despair. Why had he even attempted to spell his own appliances in the first place? The disaster that was his vacuum said everything anyone needed to know about his domestic magic skills. Sage, the genius of domestic magic, had even tried and failed to fix the damned thing. The best they could figure out together was how to delay it until the next day.
He did that quickly, sending it back to its cupboard and turned to see Drew was now quite awake and staring at him with slow heavy blinks. He lit up when Mason finally came into focus for him.
“Hi!” he said again, and this time Mason couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the utter chaos that was his life.
“Hi, Drew,” he whispered softly and lifted his legs up to tuck his frozen toes under the blanket.
“Ben got me drunk,” Drew accused with a pout.
“Did he pour alcohol down your throat?”
“No. I can drink on my own,” he defended himself and Mason nodded.
“Looks like it, yeah.”
“Crowe said I had pretty eyes,” was what Drew said next and Mason bristled again, trying so hard to not to feel jealous because he had no right. But Drew was still his, dammit. Wasn’t he?
Friends, Mason… FRIENDS.
“Who’s Crowe?” he asked instead and Drew shrugged.
“He sells drinks. Gave me loads of umbrellas in mine. Do you think it’s ‘cause the eyes?”
“It might be,” Mason forced himself to say. If Drew wanted to, he could like this umbrella-giving, compliment-handing, stupid-name-having bartender.
Drew fell silent for a long moment, eyes unfocused and squinted. Crowe had a point. He always did have the most soulful, expressive dark eyes.
“I don’t want him to think I have nice eyes,” finally he said, snuggling deeper into the blanket and resting his head back against the throw pillow.
Mason felt his heart jump at the words, a strange sense of relief flooding over him. He felt equally mad at himself and resigned that this was how it would always be. Him wanting to let go of Drew, but also keeping him to himself in secret.
“Why not?” he asked finally. Drew was already half asleep, hair messy and those beautifully full lips pouted.
“Only want you to think so…” he slurred before he went under again.
Mason shivered, standing up with his heart r
acing. He walked to the other end of the couch, leaning over Drew and running gentle fingers through the locks of hair resting on his forehead.
“It’s like you’re doing it on purpose” he huffed without heat, lingering a second more before shutting off the lights and going back to bed. Alone.
Drew was dying. There was no other explanation for the awful pounding in his head, the sandpaper cover on his tongue, or the crusty eyes he felt would need a crowbar to open. He had to pee, his hand was asleep, and his neck was bent at an awkward angle on the short couch he was folded into. He was also stupidly hot. Still in his coat with a fluffy blanket spread over him that he was sure was somehow spelled into giving off more warmth than it reasonably should.
Knowing Mason, it must have been true because he was perpetually cold.
His bladder notified him that there would be no waiting, so he got up, every joint in his body crackling until he sounded like bubble wrap being squished.
He unwrapped himself to full height, and as soon as he did so, his head felt stuffy and he got so dizzy he had to hold on to the back of the couch. He was seconds away from tipping over. Damn Ben. He was never drinking again. He was also very firmly in the blame-Ben-for-my-own-stupidity corner, and he was staying there until further notice.
Feeling steady enough to try to find a bathroom, he let go of the couch and with the grace of a giraffe on ice-skates made his way down a narrow hallway. He hadn’t really had the chance to look around the last time he was here. He shook his head to try and will away the images of Mason naked and flushed, writhing in his lap and moaning into his neck. He didn’t need to torture himself with what would probably never be his again.
Mason’s apartment was small, but so incredibly cozy. It fit the person he remembered. Mason was the one who piled their treehouse with pillows, and throw cushions, and old worn blankets. He was the one who started bringing them little lamps and lanterns, fairy lights, and candles. Most of them were cracked or damaged in some way, so he got them for free from whoever didn’t want them anymore. But they still shined nicely and made the treehouse inviting and warm. Drew may have built it, but Mason turned it into a sanctuary.
