Only You

by Willa Okati

  “Tell you what?”

  “Everything, I guess. What you’ve been doing -- since. With your life. I can glean a bit here and a piece there, but I don’t have the full picture.” Alexander ran the pad of his thumb around the glass he held; his hands were big enough to manage it without dropping or spilling. “I’d like to know.”

  Zach shifted his weight. How much to share? “There’s hardly anything to tell,” he tried to evade. “I’ve had a mostly normal life. Quiet. I’ve done whatever I could find work doing, mostly slinging coffee, and I’ve gotten by.”

  “Ah,” Alexander murmured quietly. “Do you still carve?”

  “You remember that?”

  “I remember you liked to work with wood, and sometimes stone. You made beautiful things, even if you do still have the scars from slipping with your knife. I remember those too.”

  Zach glanced down at his hands, turning them from back to front. The marks there were so familiar he never even noticed them anymore, but Alexander had.

  “The marble from the quarry here is good for carving,” Alexander remarked. “Or so I hear.”

  “Yes. Well.” Zach buried his face in his glass.

  “Go a little slower there,” Alexander cautioned. “It’s stronger than it tastes. Nearly knocked me down the first time I tried it, and I must weigh twice what you do. Do you eat at all? You look like a strong breeze would blow you away.”

  “Not all of us can be musclebound globetrotters. Mind your own.”

  Alexander held his hands up, palms out. “My apologies. God, you’re touchy.”

  “You say it as if it’s a new thing,” Zach muttered. “I don’t like being this way, but I can’t help it.”

  “I know.” Alexander regarded him a little longer, quiet and thoughtful. “You’re as tightfisted as you always were with details. You give long answers, but they don’t have any real content.”

  Zach raised his shoulders. “I am what I am, and even if I could help it --”

  “Twenty questions,” Alexander said abruptly. He swung his legs over the edge of the chaise and sat upright. “And we can even make it interesting.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Zach raised an eyebrow. “You want to play twenty questions? That’s a kid’s game.”

  “Not the way I play it.”

  Zach didn’t doubt it. Yet Alexander had piqued his curiosity. Zach leaned forward to mirror Alexander’s pose. “Make it interesting, how?”

  “Truth for truth, answer for answer, turn for turn. And… no lies allowed. No evasions.”

  Oh. Zach swallowed.

  “Or can you not bend that far, even now?” Alexander asked, far too quietly. “Even now, Zach?”

  “That isn’t fair, and it’s almost cruel,” Zach replied, equally quietly, then lifted his chin. “I want five ‘I reserve the right not to answer’ options.”

  “One.”

  “Three,” Zach countered, even though he already knew what Alexander’s answer would be. “All right. One. You win.”

  “For once.” Alexander lifted his glass. “I tell you what, if you go first we’ll cut it down to ten instead of twenty -- unless you lose. Deal?”

  God, he’d turned devious, but two could play the same game. “That’s one for you, but -- all right. One for me: can I have a refill?”

  “You’ve still got at least a shot’s worth in your glass.”

  “Only temporarily.” Zach tilted his glass back and drained it, then held it out. “And not anymore.”

  Alexander shook his head, but he took the glass from Zach and filled it deftly. Zach bit his lip as he watched; there was, somehow, something of a turn-on about the easy way Alexander poured a level shot. “You keep surprising me. With things like this. I meant.”

  Alexander cocked his head. “Oh? What did you think I’d keep in my liquor cabinet?”

  “That’s two -- no, three -- of your ten. And frankly, I’d have bet on either top shelf Scotch or the cheapest, shittiest beer you can buy at a corner store.”

  Alexander chuckled as he swirled the alcohol around his glass. “The kind of beer that tastes like skunk spray smells?”

  “Four,” Zach murmured. “And you asked out of turn. I’m winning.”

  “Whatever. God, I remember drinking those with you. Thinking we were so grown up when we could barely get through a can each without gagging.”

  Zach wrinkled his nose at the memory. “Thanks for reminding me. I’d almost managed to block out the taste.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re really, really not, are you?”

  Alexander made a fond-sounding sort of noise as he sat back down and tucked an arm behind his head for an impromptu pillow. “Four for me, two for you. You know, I’ve missed this. The way you zing it right back, everything anyone dishes out to you. The human slingshot.” He glanced at the window as a bolt of lightning was followed, alarmingly quickly, with a roll of thunder that made the building rattle. “They weren’t kidding about the weather rolling in. Listen to it, would you?”

  “Five questions from you. You’re terrible at this, did you know?” He held up a hand to stave off Alexander’s fist pump of triumph. “I know that’s three for me. And of course I hear it. I can’t help listening.” Zach shivered again and wished he still had Alexander’s coat on, or a second blanket to wrap around himself. “I hope it doesn’t get worse, or any second now the power’s going to --”

  Obligingly, because nature was a bastard and had a sadistic sense of humor, a crack of thunder made them both jump half out of their seats a split second before the room went dark.

  Zach pressed a hand to his face in the pitch blackness. “I had to say it, didn’t I? I had to say it.”

  “And we’re at four questions for you. Also, quick, threaten me with winning a million dollars. The way you’re going tonight, it might happen.”

  “Don’t make me come over there.” Zach tapped his watch for the few seconds of light it would provide, even if it was sterile and cold. “It’s not even eleven yet. Fuck me, this is going to be a long night.”

  “Twist my arm,” Alexander said dryly. Zach could hear him stirring, standing up in a businesslike manner, so he probably hadn’t meant it seriously. Probably. “Could be worse. The stove’s gas, so we’ll still have hot food. The drink’s strong enough to stand up to a little chill, I have plenty of coats and blankets, and -- here.”

  Abruptly, the room filled with a much better, warmer light than that from Zach’s watch, and with it a gentle, rolling wave of warmth. Alexander stood by the fireplace, arm propped on the mantle, and gestured at the flames. “If you stand about where I am, you can warm up and…” He cleared his throat. “Dry off. I’d offer you some clean clothes, but anything I have would swallow you like a tent, and I don’t think you want to hang around naked.”

  Embarrassment nearly bowed Zach in half. He’d forgotten, but now he was paying attention again he could smell himself, and he reeked of Omega. Alexander wasn’t as badly off, but he definitely carried a strong whiff of Alpha.

  “It might be the lesser of two evils,” he said, which was the alcohol talking for sure. He chanced a glance up to find Alexander watching him, so intent, and yes, serious this time.

  He’d opened his mouth to say so when Alexander murmured, “Maybe. But I wouldn’t say no, if you said yes.”

  Zach’s insides did a slow, lazy flip, hinting at what they’d been headed for and wanted to get back to again. No. He refused, and he made sure that showed when he said, “You said you didn’t want to fight, Alexander.”

  “I know,” Alexander said, still watching him. “I was there.”

  He wasn’t talking about the immediate past now, but a moment seven years back. Zach could tell.

  “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  Alexander shook his head slowly and didn’t answer or ask a question. Just waited. And waited.

  One moment before Zach would have howled in frustration, the man stood up and stretched. “Food smell
s ready.”

  “Say again?”

  “The food. Thai, the stuff I said I’d heat for us. I’ll plate it up, and you go sit by the fire. I can’t stand seeing you half frozen in my own house. Come on already.”

  Zach nibbled on a rogue cuticle as he eyed the hearth. Contrariness argued against doing as he’d been told; yearning got him on his feet and moving. He elbowed Alexander aside and stretched his cold hands out to the flames, sighing as they started to thaw.

  He’d almost forgotten Alexander was there when the Alpha rested his hand on Zach’s shoulder, then tipped his chin up so they were looking at each other. “Even if you don’t want to, one way or another we are going to talk about it tonight. All of it. I’ve waited too long for this chance to let it slip away.”

  The warmth of his touch almost burned. Zach couldn’t look away, try as he might. “You’re doing this to keep me off balance, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little,” Alexander replied. He brushed along the line of Zach’s cheekbone, almost -- almost -- cradling his face. “Just a little. It’s my turn, after all.”

  Zach could have argued, but… he didn’t want to fight any more than he wanted to be fought with. He was so tired of fighting, even if he couldn’t give in gracefully no matter what. He bent his head in stiff agreement, stepping back as he did so he wouldn’t press into Alexander’s touch and give him the wrong idea. It was one of the hardest things he’d done in a while.

  Alexander squeezed Zach’s shoulder once, rubbed the muscle with his thumb, and then he was gone.

  Zach watched after him for a moment, too much going on in his head to process any of it. In the end, he shook his head and turned back to the fire. No matter the weather outside, this pause was the calm before the storm and they both knew it, didn’t they?

  Might as well take what he could get while the taking was good. Though that was a thought that didn’t bear any more thinking…

  * * *

  Alexander didn’t take long with the plating. He really did know his way around a kitchen, if not the actual cooking involved. He came back a scant handful of minutes later with two plates, one bearing a normal portion and one heaped so high he’d rounded it off to stop it spilling over its edges.

  Somehow Zach wasn’t surprised when he got handed the second one, and good lord, it was even heavier than it looked. He had to balance it with both hands. “How much do you think I can eat?”

  “I don’t know, but I want you to get as much of what’s on your plate down as you can.” Alexander shook his head firmly when Zach started to protest. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I’ve seen your kind of skinny before. I don’t know who you bonded with or why they aren’t with you now, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you got so thin.”

  Zach bit his lip, blushing hot as a coal even though the rest of him was still shivering-cold.

  Alexander watched until Zach bent his head over the plate in submission, then shrugged and smiled with a mercurial shift of mood. “By the way, that made five questions for you. Or was that number six?”

  “I’ve lost count.”

  “Me too, so go ahead and eat while I tally them back up. I promise you, it really is good.” He leaned against the wall, his balance easy, and shoveled a forkful of something savory-looking in his mouth. “Mm-mmf.”

  Trying to set an example, Zach supposed. He wasn’t sure he could eat now, his stomach making warning noises at him, but the smell was too much to resist. He tried one small bite, and then another. The warning noises took a sharp left into rumbles of hunger and demands for more. He had to make himself eat slowly, taking small, deliberate bites because Alexander was right, and it was good, too good to risk his stomach rejecting it if he ate too fast.

  Even if he could feel Alexander watching him keenly the whole time. “Would you stop staring at me?” Zach said when it became too much. He pointed his fork at Alexander. “You’re going to put me off my whatever-this-is.”

  “Nah. You like it.”

  And of course he didn’t specify what he thought Zach liked. It could have been the food, but most likely not. Zach stabbed his fork into a heap of something mysterious but delicious, left it there, and put his plate aside. “I’m done.”

  “Uh-uh, no lies. Those were the rules.”

  “You didn’t ask a question.”

  “No, but I can.” Alexander was watching him like a hunting lion now, and it made Zach’s skin tingle. “You’re still hungry enough to keep eating, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I will. Are you going to make me? Try to take care of me like an Alpha should?”

  “Six. Seven. And I am an Alpha. Shouldn’t I?”

  Not with someone who wasn’t his Omega, and he damn well knew it. God, there they went again. “I’m. Done. Eating. Stop babying me, please. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know,” Alexander said, his jaw working as he looked down and away. “You taught me that a long time ago when you left and never came back.”

  If Zach hadn’t put his plate down, he would have dropped it. They were only words, but they felt like a slap.

  Alexander pushed himself abruptly away from the wall. “My grandparents used to say some people were so sharp they’d cut themselves. I never really knew what that meant before.” He headed across the room toward something Zach couldn’t identify at that distance. Not until Alexander turned a knob and it crackled to life with a burst of static. “Battery operated. There’s a local station that usually plays oldies.”

  But it wasn’t, at least not at the moment. An announcer’s voice rolled through, stressed and taut. “-- an explosion at the quarry has been confirmed. As previously reported, the explosion damaged the railway passing through town. Additional rescue workers are en route and employees on site are working to assist those who were in the quarry and mine when --”

  “Change it.” Zach was too raw to listen to more. “Unless there’s anything we can do to help.”

  “No. I wish there were, but we’d only be in the way.” Alexander twisted the dial. The flow of something soft and smooth, a little bit of jazz, a little bit of rock and roll, replaced the announcer’s voice on another station. He nodded slowly. “I mentioned my grandparents. This was theirs, back in the day. Built to last.”

  “They usually were. Back in the day.”

  “Hmm.” Alexander tapped his foot lightly against the floor, moving ever so slightly to the beat of a song far older than either of them was. “Do you remember we were going to go to prom together? How excited you were, when you always worked so hard never to act excited about anything? Like we were going to be fairytale princes for the evening.” He paused. “And then we never made it there.”

  No, they hadn’t. Zach wondered what’d happened to their tuxedos. Were they tucked up safe in a closet somewhere, wingtips stuffed with tissue paper arranged neatly beneath them, or had they gotten tossed in a dumpster long ago? It’d been the stupidest fantasy, the notion of spinning around and around the floor in Alexander’s arms, but he’d wanted it, and --

  “I remember.” He’d been sleeping in an alley the night after leaving, hiding in a corner where he’d cried until his eyes burned. Even now, the memory made him swipe at them. “Damn you for bringing that up, and that’s nine. You only have one more.”

  Alexander tucked his hands in his pockets for a long moment, then nodded as if making up his mind and turned his head toward Zach. Half a smile crooked up the corner of his mouth as he held out a hand in invitation. “Then I’ll make it count. May I have this dance?”

  Chapter Four

  Zach’s jaw dropped.

  Alexander simply waited, holding out his arm as if he could stand there all day. “I’m serious. Come and dance with me.”

  “You… what?” Zach stood too quickly, his knees wobbling and his head spinning, but he clenched his jaw and stayed put until the dizziness passed. “You’re angry with me. I get that. I deserve it. But don’t be cruel
.”

  “I’m not. You weren’t the only one who wanted the whole fairytale dream ending,” Alexander said quietly. He curled his fingers, beckoning. “One dance, Zach. Let’s listen to the music, and the storm, and just be together, for a few minutes. Let that old scar heal. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Please.”

  Let it heal. Please.

  There was no way to say no to that, even if Zach had wanted to. God help him, he didn’t. And he didn’t care if it was right or smart or sensible or for the best; he couldn’t think clearly enough for that.

  So he acted. He let his body lead. He went to Alexander, and he let the man wrap him up in his arms.

  Taking it while the taking’s good, if only for one last dance.

  * * *

  “Good. Just like that. That’s good.” Alexander let Zach nestle against him and was still so gentle when those strong arms came around to support his slighter weight. “You always were strong, even when you thought you weren’t.”

  “I’m not. I’m really not.”

  “That’s what you think.” Zach felt something brush the top of his head, the lightest pressure that might or might not have been a kiss but with no sound to give it away for sure.

  He curled a little tighter against Alexander. “What is this song?”

  “I don’t know, but I like it. No, wait, I do know the name. My parents played it at their vow renewal. Unforgettable.”

  “Nat King Cole,” Zach said, remembering too. It’d been on every station for a while. “The remix with his youngest Omega child. It was made years and years after he died.”

  “And yet they found a way to come back together.”

  Zach pushed a breath through his nose. “Don’t take that as an omen. The universe isn’t tuned in that well to what anyone wants.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Zach didn’t have an answer for that. He wasn’t sure Alexander had it wrong. The way things kept happening tonight…

  Alexander moved slowly, still, not really dancing but doing more than swaying with him. Simple steps, executed slowly, that turned them in lazy circles around a five-odd-square patch of floor by the window. He bent his head, letting Zach feel it for sure this time, and breathed in. “You smell better.”