“You’re gaining plenty from what it looks like down here,” Adam says after a moment, voice breathy.
Another laugh. And then Shane is spreading his legs farther and pressing ever so slowly into Adam. Adam gasps, hand wrapping around his own cock, and Shane moans low in the back of his throat. It’s slow, a bit uncomfortable at first, but Adam wraps his legs around Shane’s back anyway, pulling him closer, thinking only of feeling more.
Then Shane’s moving frantically against him and Adam can vaguely hear himself cry out, a steady stream of swearing, curses, and unintelligible words falling from his mouth, as his own hand fists his cock, and really, it’s all too much, all of it.
They fall apart at the same time. Panting, Shane collapses to the side so he doesn’t entirely crush Adam. His fingers thread through Adam’s hair, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence. Adam closes his eyes, feeling limp, sated, and warm. He could fall asleep right there, Shane’s fingers in his hair lulling him to sleep.
But they’d somehow ended up on the floor, and it’s a bit cold, with one of their shoes digging into his back, so Adam forces himself to sit up. When he does, he finds Shane, propped up on his elbow, simply staring at him with open, dark brown eyes. It’s strange to think that a few weeks ago, the two could barely hold a conversation together.
“I can go home if you want me to,” Adam offers, breaking the quiet.
Shane frowns. “Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to be courteous,” Adam’s voice is irritable, but Shane seems delighted by his ire. He pushes himself up and offers a hand to help Adam.
“Seems kinda pointless. Besides, I know some fun ways to get cleaned up,” Shane raises his eyebrows in a pointed stare, challenging him.
Adam takes his hand. He never could turn down a dare.
* * *
The sun is the first thing to wake Adam up the next morning. Blearily, he blinks his eyes at the offending light shining in, before rolling over. Shane is still completely out, the naked expanse of his back turned toward Adam, the sun making his tanned skin glisten even more. Reaching over, he places his hand in the middle of Shane’s broad back and closes his eyes as his hand moves in time with his breath. Time stretches endlessly, and he can imagine staying here for an eternity, listening, feeling nothing else. He thinks this must have been how the couples in Midsummer felt in the forest of fairies, completely isolated and devoid of responsibilities.
The chime of a text coming in distracts him. Adam groans quietly but rolls out of bed as he begins searching for his phone, pulling on a pair of boxers as he goes. Finally, he finds it, discarded next to his bag.
CAMERON: yo did you get kidnapped
Adam sighs, figuring this is going to be another of Cameron’s terrible jokes. Reluctantly, he types out a response.
ADAM: why would i be kidnapped
CAMERON: bc it’s 7 am!!! And i don’t want to make coffee AND do cash this morning by myself!!!
Adam does a double take at his phone, jolting when he realizes he never set his alarm last night. He scrubs a hand through his hair, the curls now sticking outward in every which way possible.
ADAM: oh fuck
ADAM: i’ll be right there
CAMERON: you better have a good reason
CAMERON: wait did you actually get laid last night
Adam groans, rubbing a hand over his face. Just fantastic.
“What’s wrong?”
Adam looks behind him to see Shane just waking up, swinging his legs around to sit up in bed. His voice is still thick with sleep, brown hair mussed. Blinking bleary eyes, Shane stretches his arms up, muscles tensing as he does. Adam licks his lips despite himself. He could probably watch that for hours.
His stare does not go unnoticed. Lowering his arms, Shane gives him a devastating grin, eyes smoldering, and spreads his legs, blanket still covering him from the waist down. “Are you going to leave already?”
Adam forces himself to stay out of arm's length, knowing he could easily fall into Shane’s trap otherwise. “Yes,” he says firmly. “I have things to do.”
Shane’s undeterred. “I can be one of those things.”
Adam allows himself one step forward. “Look at you, you can be blunt.”
“I’ve had a good teacher and a crash course,” Shane leans back on his elbows, gaze daring.
Caving, Adam crosses the space between them and catches Shane’s jaw with both his hands. The kiss is slow and searing, and Shane’s hands move to thread into Adam’s hair.
His phone chimes again, probably from Cameron. Regretfully, Adam manages to pull away. He can see Shane’s eyes are dilated and wants nothing more than to stay. “I have to go,” he says a bit breathlessly.
“You’re such a tease,” Shane says, but his hands slip from Adam’s hair, tracing a line down his chest, until they are safely nowhere near Adam’s body.
Adam hesitates. “Can I ask you something?”
“Since when has anyone stopped you from talking?”
“I’ve had a good teacher.”
Shane grins. “And a crash course?”
Adam laughs. “Something like that, but…” it takes him a moment to form the words, and he forces himself to inhale and plunge forward. “This wasn’t just, like, a one-night thing, right?”
Shane clucks his tongue. “Is that nervousness I sense?”
“Just answer the damn question.”
Shane runs a hand over Adam’s chest, stopping on his heart as he replies softly. “Of course not.”
Adam lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well, of course not. I never thought so for a second.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
Adam turns his back, trudging to find his jeans and shirt to pull them on again. Shane tilts his head back, but pulls himself up and begins to do the same.
“Maybe we can go on an actual date next time,” Shane says, as Adam tries to work his hair into something manageable. “And be nice to each other.”
“I was plenty nice yesterday,” deciding his hair is a lost cause, Adam slaps his work cap on top of his head and turns back to Shane. “Besides, we already went on our first date. We ran lines, remember?”
“You count that?”
“Sure. We can do it again, see if you remember your lines,” Adam walks toward the door, turning with his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll give you a reward if you can remember everything.”
Adam feels his cheeks flush, but he defiantly meets Shane’s gaze anyway. Eyes blown wide, Shane rubs at the back of the neck. “That,” Shane says, tone perfectly even. “Sounds nice.”
Adam hesitates, blurting out his words. “And maybe we can do your lines over a nice dinner? Maybe some wine?”
“You cook?”
Adam smirks. “I am a man of many talents…and also a man who has to deal with terrible roommates who can’t cook a group meal unless it involves a microwave.”
Shane smiles. “Well, that sounds even better.”
Adam flashes one more grin. This time, when he leaves Shane’s apartment, he doesn’t feel as terrified.
Chapter Ten
As it turns out, there’s not much time for dates between rehearsals, with Shane working nearly twelve hours every day and Adam working morning shifts. Instead, there are stolen hours and Shane pressing Adam into the bar counter after everyone leaves, hand gripping the jut of his hip bone, or Adam pulling him into his apartment late in the morning, touch cool in the fiery summer as it covers all of Shane’s skin.
More often than not, it’s just Adam spouting Midsummer lines at Shane, a bit like a Shakespeare dictionary. There’s something comforting in watching Adam run back and forth insanely over Shakespeare, a constant passion that flits in and out of Shane’s day.
Before he knows it, Shane realizes he feels content. Like he’s woken up after eight years and is finally making progress.
“You look like crap,” Violet comments over breakfast
two days before opening night. They’re once again back at Adam’s coffee shop, having claimed their usual window seat. Adam is nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the back.
“You’re one to talk,” Shane raises his coffee cup to his lips, observing the dark circles under Violet’s eyes and the papers spilling out of her tote bag. A pen is stuck right behind her ear and there’s a second one struggling to hold her hair together. “Do you sleep?”
“Do you?” Violet uses one hand to tug the pen out from behind her ear and chugs her coffee back with the other. When the coffee is sufficiently drained, she leans over her clipboard, jotting down notes about lighting. “Seems like that guy has kept you pretty busy.”
Shane hides a grin behind his coffee cup. Violet had not been fond of Adam to begin with, and now it seems like she’s decided she’s going to play the gatekeeping best friend until further notice. And Adam’s terrified of her, though he would staunchly deny it if anyone asked, so this is probably the best entertainment Shane’s had in years.
Honestly, he used to avoid conflict. He has no idea what’s come over him.
“You sound jealous, Violet.”
Violet barks out a laugh, scribbling harder at her papers. What she could be writing now, considering the play goes on in less than forty-eight hours, is beyond Shane. “More concerned than anything. I mean, Adam Weir? I didn’t know anyone could tolerate that guy in real life,” she shakes her head, muttering more to herself. “I thought he was just a demon specifically created to torment me everywhere I worked.”
“He’s not so bad once you get used to him.”
Violet heaves a sigh, throwing her pen down. Leaning back in her chair, she crosses her arms over her chest. “You really like him? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you with that sappy look on your face.”
Shane doesn’t rise to her bait or argue about his sappy look. Even he can feel the fond expression that’s spread across his face, which seems to constantly stretch his muscles. “For some crazy reason, yeah.”
Violet removes the second pen from her hair, face calculating as she studies him. Whatever she sees seems to close the case. She shakes her hair out. “Alright then, I’ll accept it.”
“Just like that?” Shane says, amused. “Even if he’s a demon?”
“Sure. You’re an adult. If you want crazy in your life, who am I to argue?”
“You’re the one that cast him,” Shane says, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. “If you think about it, you’re completely responsible for this.”
Violet stares blankly. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Oh, come on. If you cast him, you must like him a little.”
“He’s good at what he does,” Violet replies grudgingly. When Shane stares at her pointedly, she caves. “Okay, he’s not as bad as he acts sometimes, and I’ll drop it,” shifting, she now changes targets completely. “Besides, we have more important things to talk about. Are you ready for opening night?”
Shane hasn’t had time to be nervous, with how busy he’s been. Even now, opening night feels so far away. Maybe that’s why he’s able to speak, with the utmost confidence. “Of course I am.”
He maintains that confidence for the next two days, all the way up until exactly fifteen minutes before the curtain is supposed to rise. Completely costumed and armed with stage makeup, thanks to Charlie, Shane peeks from the wings to see their small, but hardy, auditorium filling up. There’re more people than he thought there would be, then again, this is Brooklyn, so everyone's always looking for something to do that feels cultured. In this case, seeing Shane.
Hopefully, not seeing him mess up.
Suddenly, it hits him. The confidence he’s held onto for the last few days drains out of him. What has he been thinking? The leather jacket Violet has forced upon him feels hot and constricting now, and a cold sweat is beginning to form on Shane’s temple. Had they turned the air off?
“Are you okay?”
Shane blinks down at Adam. “Where’d you come from?”
“The sky, because I’m your guardian angel,” Adam says, slapping him on the shoulder. “I appeared from the heavens just to find you.”
Shane stares, incredulous, at this man with his too-bright smile, and too-high opinion of himself. “Did you just pull out a pickup line?”
“Of course,” Adam, dressed in a bright red turtleneck, with his curls carefully arranged under a beret Charlie declared just has to be used for Quince, leans around Shane to see the audience. “It’s filling up nicely.”
“Yeah.”
Adam eyes him, and though it’s only been a few weeks, Shane feels like the other man can see right through him from just that one word.
“First performance, right?”
Shane’s throat is so tight now, he can only nod. “I’m not sure what I was thinking,” he manages to croak out. He’s gotten better over the last week, but is it really good enough?
Adam breaks Shane’s train of thought, before it can spiral further. “Hey, come here,” Adam grabs Shane’s hand and tugs him away from the wings, a bit past the soundboard and tech manager. His hand is cool as ever, decisive in its grasp. When they stop further in the darkness, Adam looks up, and Shane’s able to see the sparkle of his blue eyes even in this light. “You wanted to prove everyone wrong, right?”
“I feel like an idiot for saying that,” at this point, Shane’s more likely to fall on the floor than prove anything.
Adam tightens his hold on Shane’s hands. “Don’t worry about that tonight. Just let yourself be someone else. Lose yourself in it.”
“I wish someone had taught me how to do that before now,” Shane says wryly.
Adam cocks his head. Then, he reaches upward and drags Shane’s face to his, mouth pressing fiercely against his own, tongue swiping against his teeth, knocking the breath out of Shane. For a moment, Shane forgets where they are, overwhelmed by the ferocity of the kiss and unable to think of anything else.
The two of them part when a stage manager hisses at them that they have five minutes. Adam looks much too satisfied and Shane wants to hate him, but he can’t. At all. Shane heaves a sigh. “Lose myself, huh?”
“Yep. You’re not your anxious self anymore. You’re just the part,” Adam squeezes Shane’s hands one more time, before releasing them. “That’s the beauty of theater, right? We can change who we want to be for a period of time. And after that, we get to go back to who we are.”
“Cheesy, but very deep.”
“Hey, I’m trying to help,” Adam says, sticking his nose in the air.
“Sure, sure,” sarcasm drips from Shane’s tone, chasing away the anxiety, cured by some miracle, Adam’s presence and his playful needling. Shane knows Adam is right. For two hours every night this weekend, Shane will stand in front of an audience, who have no idea who he is, and recite the same lines. And they might not remember him, or they might think he’s crap. But they wouldn’t know he’s Shane. His future, his past, it’s completely gone. Only he would be able to know it.
Somehow, it’s comforting.
Charlie scurries up to them wearing a matching leather jacket, nearly bouncing from excitement. “We’ve got to get back to our places, Shane,” she whispers.
He nods and she moves away. As he begins to follow her, Shane turns back to Adam one more time. “What happens after it ends?”
Adam plants his hands on his hips. “We’ll move on and find something else.”
Shane supposes that’s all he can ask for. The lights in the house drop. The stage lights click on. He closes his eyes and they take the stage for opening night.
Epilogue
Months pass and the weekend spent performing as Shakespeare’s fairies and lovers seems years away. Winter arrives, unforgiving and cold, eclipsing all memory of the summer heat, and auditions for Adam come and go. The four weeks of Midsummer could have been a dream for all Adam knew. Of course, they weren’t, since Adam has a giant man as proof that
those weeks happened.
The play itself had been well-received by the theater-goers in Brooklyn. No grand press had come, and no one had spirited Adam away to make his debut on national television. There were no accolades for Shane, either, though his performance had certainly passed muster amongst the more experienced actors. Violet had not pulled all her hair out, and Kyle and Adam had managed to stay perfectly civil since the play.
Now, there’s only time to move on to the future. At the end of the day, theater can only last for so long. Which is why Adam finds himself thumbing through postings every morning, trying to secure his next audition.
“‘All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players,’” he mutters, running his thumb across the top of his lips. Only the light of his phone illuminates his face as he scrolls through a posting for a casting for As You Like It. The sun has yet to make an appearance this early and Adam feels heavy with warmth. “I’m a mere player who is apparently going to be stuck with Shakespeare for the rest of my life.”
Next to him, a giant lump shifts, stealing more blankets than necessary. “What are you muttering about?” Shane’s voice is thick with sleep, having just arrived home from his late-night shift at the bar and immediately crashed onto the bed.
Adam tugs the blankets back toward himself. “Shakespeare,” he says, absently, sinking closer into the warmth.
“At this hour?”
“It’s…” Adam swipes at his phone. “Four in the morning. The perfect time to talk about Shakespeare. The witching hour, you might call it.”
Shane groans and his hand reaches out, grasping at Adam’s phone. Adam yelps as Shane snags it and tosses it onto a nearby pile of clothes, before throwing an arm over Adam and forcing him closer. “Sleep time, not Shakespeare time.”
Adam gasps. “It’s work time, actually, in an hour.”
“Sleep, Adam.”
Adam can’t resist. “‘Perchance to dream.’”
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