Homebird

by Amy Lane

  Luka rolled sleepily out of bed and padded off toward the bathroom while Crispin dove for a clean pair of underwear and another set of pajama bottoms. He was changed before Luka came back and invested in a full-court belly rub for Captain Steve, who had, indeed, spent much of the night on either Crispin’s or Luka’s head.

  “Didn’t know I could be replaced so quickly,” Luka said through a yawn as he crawled back into bed.

  “Don’t flatter him,” Crispin warned. “This one is a love sponge—it’s all with the take, take, take, but do you see me getting belly rubs or free grooming? I think not.”

  Luka chuckled and settled down into bed again, spooning Crispin from behind and nuzzling the back of his neck. “I guess that’s my job. I’m up for it, I swear.”

  Crispin smiled, contentment seeping into his bones. “Well, we’ll have to let you do that. Lots of it. Because Captain Steve here is giving me nothing to work with.”

  Steve gave an affronted cat whimper and rolled over to his side, pouting.

  “Oh, see? Someone is jealous.”

  “Tough.” Crispin snuggled back against all that lean muscle and intensity. “Steve had his chance. Now it’s yours.”

  “Mm….” Luka bucked experimentally against Crispin’s bottom. “We may have to wait until I wake up again. That bottom is squishy and inviting, and I want to do it justice. We shall just have to huddle under our blanket for a bit while I catch up on my sleep.”

  Crispin yawned. Well, it hadn’t been four days in travel, but he had spent his day off doing emergency accounting. “Sounds fair. I have to leave at eleven thirty, though—just so you know.”

  “Oh, I’ll be more than ready to go before then.” Luka yawned again. “Still helping out the bar?”

  “Yeah—you can come with me if you want. Won’t be too exciting, but they may need a strong back if you want to help—we were talking about inventory last night. It could be necessary.”

  “Sure. I love a good project.” A pause then, as their chests began to rise and fall in the rhythms of sleep. “Did I hear voices last night?”

  “Yeah. My sister came by to tell me something.”

  “She does not believe in phones like the rest of the world?”

  “Mm. It was big news—too big for the phone. She’s pregnant. I’m going to be an uncle.”

  “That is good news.”

  “They’re coming over here tomorrow night to celebrate. You’ll get to see our baby pictures in stereo.”

  Luka chuckled appreciatively in his ear. “I can’t wait. Well, maybe after I sleep some more….”

  “And then wake up…,” Crispin agreed, dreaming about it already.

  “And then make love to you. I got tested twice, Crispin. If you like….”

  A buzz of anticipation began to build in his belly, and he knew he’d be dreaming about what they’d be doing for a good half hour before they got up enough electricity to turn each other on.

  “I like,” he affirmed. “I like so very, very much.”

  Indeed he did.

  Nesting

  LUKA PROVED to be quite useful at the Cave Bar.

  He greeted—and was greeted by—Crispin’s friends like a long-lost cousin.

  “My boys!” Luka called as he walked up to the shoebox-lined tables. “I am so happy to see you!”

  Crispin had been a little worried that they would get stern or lecturing or any of the big brother things they’d been doing to him, but apparently his friends had enough good sense not to be mean to someone who’d just spent five days and a horror of a travel story to come see Crispin.

  “Luka!” they called, going up to him and hugging him one at a time. A babbled chorus of “Hey, man! Glad you finally got out of Aurangabad! Nineteen hours—that’s frickin’ brutal, buddy!” surrounded him, and he grinned at the guys and shook hands and answered questions as though they were still in Munich and the time between had never happened.

  “Looks cozy,” Jamie muttered at Crispin’s elbow.

  “Yeah—they love him. Not excited about the long-distance thing, but they’ll never stop loving Luka.”

  Jamie grunted. “He’s not exactly hard on the eyes, is he?”

  Crispin chuckled, thinking that Luka had been hard in other places, and he was still trying not to walk funny after their enthusiastic lovemaking during round two.

  “Not even a little,” he replied. He didn’t add that Luka needed to eat more, and that, if nothing else, Luka would leave after the holidays looking like he’d been well-fed while he was there.

  “Is he an accountant too?”

  Crispin shook his head. “No, he’s a waiter—but he’s agreed to be free labor if you need him. He works Oktoberfest in Munich, which is pretty damned busy. Feel free to have him organize your back of the house for inventory, or even wait some tables or pour drinks. He’s maybe the best waiter we’ve ever seen.”

  “Awesome,” Jamie grumbled. “Because guys like me have a chance as it is.”

  “You’re a great guy,” Crispin told him, smiling a little. “Just have some patience—”

  “Please, no pep talk,” Jamie sighed. “Not from you, Crispin. I just can’t. But thank you for bringing him. Introduce me and I’ll show him the back, and let’s see if we can organize this place.”

  “Excellent. I have to tell you, the guys haven’t stopped raving about your microbrews after last night.” They had actually texted Crispin that morning, telling him to get his ass into gear so they could save their new favorite bar. “They sort of have a vested interest in making sure you make it.”

  “So good to know I’m doing something right,” Jamie mumbled, shaking his head and walking away. Crispin waved at Luka, who waved back, and then pointed at Jamie.

  Crispin nodded, and Luka met Jamie halfway, shook his hand, and started asking how he could help, all before Jamie could even get out his first request. They went walking into the back of the house, and to a one, the guys turned toward him.

  “So?” Cam asked, when the silence got oppressive.

  “So what?”

  “So how long’s he staying?”

  Ouch. Crispin shrugged. “The Christmas holidays, I guess. We haven’t talked about it yet.”

  “Why not?” Link demanded. “Wouldn’t that be the first thing—”

  “The first thing we talked about was how wackadoo you get with five days of traveling and nineteen hours in the air. Let’s not bring that up until he stops yawning, okay?”

  They all shook their head and rolled their eyes, and Link demanded he get back to work.

  “Honestly, Crispin,” Cam muttered as they started sorting through the receipts again. “It’s like you’re not even trying to keep him.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t keep somebody by wrapping your hands around their neck, okay? Let me gentle him in first and then start grilling him like fried chicken.”

  “Grilling like fried chicken?” Nick wheedled.

  “Grilling him like the front of a ’52 Ford pickup?” Crispin tried again.

  “Grilling him like a trout,” Ray supplied sourly. “Or a steak. My God, I thought you could cook.”

  “You obviously didn’t see a picture of his kitchen after the pie incident,” Cam said. “But enough about Crispin—let’s get going, guys. Klosky’s isn’t going to pay us to finish up tomorrow—we’ve got to put this all in order today.”

  Crispin yawned. “And soon, today. I could seriously use more sleep.”

  BUT IT would be a while before they saw home.

  The bar opened up at five thirty, and Crispin and the guys barely finished their tasks before the doors were unlocked. Jamie had the kitchen put together dinner for everybody—including Luka, who was apparently going behind the bar when he was done eating.

  “It was insane,” he said, devouring chili and cornbread with great appreciation. “He was charging $4.50 for a draft beer and losing bartenders by the dozen. If he charges $4, everybody leaves a dollar, the bartenders make
money and stay. This is exciting, though—I get to pour for a change, and I’m very good at pouring.” He grinned. “I’m not so great at drinking, but I do a good job getting other people drunk.”

  There was general laughter around the table, and Crispin committed himself to an evening drinking with his friends after they finished up in the controller’s office.

  “Well, we haven’t gone out for beer since Munich,” Link confirmed after dinner as they arranged the last of the boxes in the tiny room. “This will be a good way to get back into the habit again.”

  “Isn’t that habit called alcoholism?” Ray asked fuzzily.

  “Going out for a drink every two months does not make you an alcoholic!” Link snapped, rolling his eyes. Then he paused. “Unless, of course, you get drunk every night in between—but we’re beer aficionados, not drunks, I swear.”

  “Sure, fearless leader,” Cam agreed. “You say it, it becomes so.”

  “I say let’s get out of this airless little room. God, no wonder his accountant was so bad—this place would make me stupid too!”

  Crispin paused as they were leaving the controller’s room where they’d just restacked all the shoeboxes—and three neat and shiny ledgers, complete with flash drives, that would help keep Jamie in the black and out of trouble with the bank and the IRS. “Uh, guys?”

  They all turned to him. “Don’t say it,” Link cautioned, groaning. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  “But… I mean, one of us, once a month. Now that it’s all organized, that’s all it would take.”

  As a collective, they all stopped and groaned.

  “Are you feeling bad because you blew this guy off?” Nick asked suspiciously.

  “No!” Crispin heard the note of defensiveness in his own voice. “A little. I mean, I lent him my boyfriend for the day, and I’m not sure if that’s a nice thing or a shitty thing.”

  “Hold on a sec,” Ray cautioned, holding up his hand. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the back hall of the bar and came back two seconds later. “It’s both,” he said with authority, opening the office door.

  “How can it be both?” Link asked, cocking his head.

  “Well, on the one hand, Luka’s out there being frickin’ Luka and charming the shit out of anyone who walks in, and on the other hand….” He bit his lip, and Crispin covered his eyes with his palm.

  “Luka’s being Luka and charming the shit out of anybody who walks in?” he hazarded.

  “Yeah,” Ray said, looking dispiritedly around the room. “Jamie looks like chopped liver, and his crush’s boyfriend is a superhero.”

  Link narrowed his eyes at Crispin. “I hate you.”

  Crispin glared back. “He’s your wife’s yoga instructor’s brother,” he said. “‘Show up, Crispin, bring wine, look pretty’—remember those words?”

  “Fuck.” Link rolled his eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take end of December—”

  “I’ll take January,” Cam supplied, quickly enough that Crispin stared at him for a moment. Cam ignored him, and they finished up calling months for the next year and inputting them into their phones.

  “It’s a good thing we like beer and we’re not alcoholics,” Ray said bitterly, “or I’d think we’d just been had.”

  “Shut up,” Link retorted, “and let’s go out and watch Luka be charming. That and the beer are going to have to sustain us through our sacrifice, gentleman. We’re already committed to this thing.”

  They gave collective groans and wandered dispiritedly into the bar proper, where Luka greeted them with a grin.

  “Hello, boys! Come, come—sit! Jamie and I saved a place for you!”

  And sure enough, their six-top had been cleared and wiped down. In place of dinner dishes awaited bowls of vanilla wafers, cold beers, and in Crispin’s spot, one lone glass of chardonnay.

  “Thanks, Luka,” Crispin murmured. “It’s been a long day.”

  Luka grazed his cheek with a knuckle. “Jamie says his books were in stupendous disarray. He’s really very grateful. You and your friends, you’ve done a good thing—you’re the good guys.”

  Crispin smiled and bit his lip. “Well, as always, I blame Link. He does manage to get us into the most interesting fixes, right?”

  Luka sobered. “Sure, Crispin. We’ll blame Link for being kind.” The moment grew dark and intimate until a raucous burst of laughter coming in through the door pulled them apart. “Jamie closes at ten—that is okay to stay so long?”

  Crispin nodded, figuring that if the guys left early, he’d brought his tablet. Then Luka blew his mind a little.

  “He says I can pick up shifts while I am here—that will be good, yes? My bank account is low after that ticket from India, and here I am with a job!” He grinned delightedly. “I shall have to get a bicycle or a motorbike—it is only five or so miles here, yes? I can bike.”

  “I think we can scare one of those up,” Crispin said, mind racing. Were there bike lanes? How much would a helmet cost? Did Luka know the roads well enough not to get creamed by some of the aggressive drivers?

  Luka laughed openly, tilting his head back, putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry so much, Crispin! I will be fine! Go sit with your friends—he has some amazing wines here I want you to try!”

  Crispin managed a smile. “I work tomorrow,” he said primly. “You don’t want to get me drunk.”

  “Understood.” And then, in front of the entire bar, he leaned forward and kissed Crispin on the mouth, quick, hard, and possessive. Crispin opened his mouth just enough for Luka to dive in for a quick taste and then retreat, giving a wide smile before he turned and headed for the bar.

  “Nice,” Cam said, drawing near, while Crispin struggled for breath.

  “He’s been here less than twenty-four hours and he’s got a job,” Crispin said in wonder. “How did that happen?”

  “Pretty sure you have to be Luka. Let’s sit back and watch the show.”

  Cam guided Crispin back to his seat while Luka hopped behind the draw station and started chatting up customers. His lean face was animated, and his smile captured attention every time it made an appearance. The line behind his station versus Jamie’s at the well grew deeper with every pour, and Crispin sighed.

  Yeah. Poor Jamie. They really did owe him.

  He turned to the guys and saw them sipping at their beers appreciatively—Luka had set each one up with a different bottle, and there was a lot of comparison and discussion of hops and barley and secondary elements. Cam made him try something with a lot of citrus in it, and Crispin actually liked that one—but stuck with his wine just the same.

  “What are you thinking, Crispin?” Cam asked, leaning in.

  “I need to get him a bicycle and a helmet and a light and pads and—”

  Cam choked. “Jesus—how about just giving him Nick’s motorcycle! I’d bet money he could drive it.”

  Crispin had tried to block that word out when Luka said it. Now he tried not to let his brain explode. Motorcycles were dangerous. Motorcycles are dangerous. “But… he could die.”

  Cam went from his easy slouch across the table to ramrod straight. “Uh… Link?”

  “What?” Link looked over his shoulder—he and Nick and Ray had been betting on whether or not Luka’s pour was smoother than Jamie’s. Of course it was. “Crispin, you’re white as a fucking sheet—are you gonna hurl?”

  “No,” Crispin said weakly, and then had a graphic vision of what Luka would look like smeared across the highway. “Maybe. Jesus.”

  “What did you say?” Link demanded, and Cam shrugged.

  “I don’t know—I said we could give Nick’s motorcycle to Luka while he was here so Luka could, you know, have a job.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Link said after thinking about it. “I’d bet Luka could drive that thing no problem.”

  “And thanks, everybody, for asking me, dickheads,” Nick muttered. He let out a breath. “Yeah. But they’re right—it’
s not like I ride that thing anyway. I wiped out once in Foresthill—”

  “In the canyon?” Ray asked.

  “No, dude—right before the double bridge. It was epic—I had road rash for weeks. Anyway… sort of lost my taste for it. So, yeah, Luka could use it—”

  “And become a grease spot on Highway 50?” Crispin asked, voice rising a little in hysteria. All the guys met eyes then, in one of those weird adult convos that meant they were seeing something he wasn’t, but he was too freaked out to care.

  “Crispin?” Cam said quietly. “Crispin, lots of people ride motorcycles—”

  “Have you seen statistics? And people around here can’t drive. And it’s winter, and they especially can’t drive in the rain. And he doesn’t have health insurance! Do you know what happens if he wipes out without health insurance in this political climate? They throw him in a raft while he’s still bleeding and chuck him in the ocean!”

  As a whole, the guys all stood, and Crispin found he was being guided none-too-gently into the men’s room.

  “Crispin, breathe,” Cam said, hand on his back while Crispin braced on his knees. “Just breathe, man. You weren’t this freaked out when he was coming in from India!”

  “Dude, you’ve got to calm down,” Nick told him. “I was fine. I mean, you know—we do statistics. We know bad shit can happen. But most of the time it doesn’t.”

  “Jesus, people, is this a party?”

  Crispin couldn’t even look up to see who was talking, but from his vantage point he saw shiny loafers and crisply pressed slacks.

  “Our friend’s having a freak-out, do you mind?” Ray asked. “C’mon, Crispin, find your center here—”

  “Well, if I’d known it was that sort of place, I never would have come in,” Mr. Shiny Loafers huffed.

  “Then you’d be a fucking idiot, and our wives think so too,” Link shot back. “Now wash your hands and get the fuck out.” Then he was in Crispin’s line of vision. “Crispin! Now come on, find your words, and tell us why I just texted Maritza to see if she could bring you a valium!”

  “I can’t take a valium with wine,” Crispin said woozily. “That would be bad!”