The Way You Are

by Matthew Lang

  Warrick shrugged, and for a moment Leon was distracted by the play of muscle moving against muscle in the nurse’s shoulders.

  “Sorry. What?” he said, when it dawned on him that Warrick was waiting for an answer.

  “I said it is for those of us on duty,” Warrick said with a grin.

  Leon grimaced and held up his textbook. “I want to, but I should really finish the chapter.”

  “You know, medically, it’s good for your brain if you take a break every now and again.”

  “I seem to recall you’ve said that before.”

  “The truth bears repeating,” Warrick said solemnly. “And I could really use the company.”

  “Oh, all right,” Leon said, closing his notebook and putting it away in his backpack. “Cafeteria?”

  “Unless you fancy taking a bus back to the old CBD for something better.”

  “Personally, I do,” Leon said as he and Warrick exited the room and headed down the corridor, “but that would make you late for work, wouldn’t it?”

  Warrick smiled and checked the hallway before leaning in toward Leon. “Actually, I think that would be worth it to have some more time with you,” he said, his voice low.

  Leon peeked up at the other man shyly. “Yeah?”

  “Why do you always sound so surprised when I say something like that?” Warrick asked.

  Leon shrugged. “You always surprise me.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “Fine,” Leon said. “Why me?”

  Leon had gone a few steps down the stairs before he realized Warrick wasn’t with him. Turning, he paused and looked back up to where the other man stood, his face open and wondering.

  “Haven’t you looked at yourself?” Warrick asked, his brow furrowing.

  “Daily in the mirror when I shave, yeah. You can almost count my ribs. Every time I go for a checkup, I get asked if I’ve got an eating disorder.”

  “Okay, so you’re slender,” Warrick said. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “And what exactly did you mean?”

  “You….” Warrick glanced up the stairs and hurried to join Leon, and Leon saw a doctor walk down the corridor they had just vacated. “How many other people bothered to come in and say thanks to Travis?” he asked in a lower voice. “I can tell you the answer right now, and that’s none.”

  Leon stopped and stared at the larger man carefully, his eyes searching Warrick’s face.

  “What?” Warrick asked.

  “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Um… yes?”

  “Huh, okay.”

  “Okay? I just bared my soul to you and you say ‘okay’?”

  “Well, I didn’t think you—I mean, I wasn’t sure if you were… serious.”

  “I am, all right?” Warrick said, his voice tinged with exasperation. “So… now with that out of the way, you still up for coffee?”

  Leon grinned and started down the stairs again. “Definitely,” he said.

  “Great,” Warrick said, smiling broadly. “Tell you what, why don’t we try the new place?”

  “New place?” Leon asked as they walked down the varicolored corridors of off white, robin’s-egg blue, and a pale industrial red that never seemed to find a moniker. Personally, Leon called it cheap, itchy T-shirt red, but the paint tin probably had a different label on it.

  “They opened a food court on level one of the new building—the Royal Newcastle Centre. You must have passed it on your way in.”

  Leon frowned. “You mean the gleaming white part still waiting on landscaping? The part that looks like a grater with windows?”

  “Grater?”

  “Kind of. I was going to say Rubik’s Cube, but it’s all white and the blocks are too small.”

  Warrick chuckled as he led the way through the children’s ward. “Okay, just don’t say that too loudly. Some of the staff are very fond of their new facilities.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” Leon said, grinning. “What’s with the film crews?”

  “They’re filming a TV show or something. Following student doctors around and billing it as a real-life hospital soap opera.”

  “What?” Leon said, pulling the hood of his jumper over his head. “Don’t they need our permission or something if they’re going to show us on TV?”

  “Technically, no,” Warrick said. “It’s a public place, so they can film what they want. They’ll get release forms from patients and families, but the rest of us….”

  “I feel strangely violated,” Leon muttered. “Unless—sorry, you’re probably looking forward to seeing yourself on TV.”

  Warrick sighed. “That would be nice, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a show about doctors, not nurses,” Warrick said as he led the way into the food court. “And I hear they’re focusing on the students’ personal lives, and there’s no way they’ll put me crushing on another guy on Australian TV.”

  “Why not? They do it all the time on reality TV shows.”

  “Not in Newcastle. It would be near impossible for me to keep working here if some of the patients found out. And you know how people in hospital like to watch their TV.”

  “I don’t know,” Leon said, “I thought it was just a case of there not being much else to do.”

  Warrick shrugged. “Maybe. In any case, I don’t think I’d get on the show. And by your reaction, I don’t think you’d sign the release form even if they did, right?”

  “I thought they didn’t need one,” Leon said, glancing through the tall windows out into the bushland park beyond.

  “Not if you’re just walking past a camera, no,” Warrick said. “But they do if you’re talking to them and they want to use footage of the conversation in the program.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I occasionally do extra work for TV. It’s good pocket money.”

  “Anything I might have seen?”

  “You can see the back of my head in the new Big W ad,” Warrick said with a grin.

  “Yowee, I’m dating a celebrity!” Leon said vapidly, faking a swoon, only to find himself swept into Warrick’s arms, looking into a pair of very concerned brown eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t need to sit down? Maybe you should sit down,” Warrick said, guiding Leon into a chair. “Head between your knees.”

  It took Leon a bit of effort to move Warrick’s hand from his back so he could sit up straight, and he smiled wryly at the larger man. “That was a joke, Warrick.”

  “Oh.” Warrick sat down hard on the chair next to him, causing the wooden back to creak. “Sorry. I have a tendency to—”

  “Take things literally. I remember,” Leon said, grinning. “I just didn’t realize that stretched to actions as well as words.”

  “Well, you know, hospital and everything, yeah?” Warrick said. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” Leon said. “A little embarrassed, but I’m fine. That said, if you want to wrap me up in your arms again sometime, I won’t complain.”

  Warrick’s skin flushed, and he looked around nervously. “Um, maybe not at work?”

  Leon looked around at the rest of the food court where faces were pointedly turning back to their sandwiches, beef stroganoff, and cappuccinos. “Right.”

  “Mind the table?” Warrick asked. “I’ll grab the drinks.”

  “Okay. Can I get a chai latte?” Leon asked, digging into a pocket for his wallet.

  “Sure. Did you want anything to eat?”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” Leon said, pulling out a five-dollar note.

  “Not on your life,” Warrick said. “I’ll probably get a snack, though, so feel free to steal from whatever I end up with,” he added before turning to head across the wooden floor to the polished counters, glass refrigerators, and perhaps most importantly, the shiny chrome cof
fee machine.

  Leon watched him walk away for a little too long, wondering how it was possible for a man to look so good in hospital scrubs. Then he shook himself, put away his wallet, and pretended to look out the window instead—and not at the insubstantial reflection of the nurse in the glass.

  When Warrick returned, bearing a tray of edible goodness, Leon couldn’t stop the dreamy smile that spread across his face. Warrick’s idea of a snack turned out to be wedges with sour cream and sweet chilli sauce—exactly what he did not expect, and probably one of his all-time favorite foods that he didn’t get to eat much. Krissy refused to let him count “deep-fried potato” as a vegetable serving, the spoilsport.

  “So, chai latte with honey,” Warrick said. “And keep your mitts off my hot chocolate.”

  Leon chuckled. “I love how ‘coffee’ with you doesn’t actually mean coffee.”

  “I’m not good on caffeine,” Warrick said, sitting down opposite Leon and taking the piping-hot wedges off the tray.

  “Oh?”

  “I become a complete spaz,” Warrick said, pushing his fringe out of his eyes with a grin.

  “I’m not sure I dare to ask,” Leon said, cradling his mug in his hands. “You know, for a hospital, this isn’t half bad,” he said, taking a sip from the glass.

  Warrick smiled, “You doing much this weekend?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “Well, we could go out for a real noncoffee,” Warrick suggested. “And maybe catch a movie?”

  Leon grinned and grabbed a wedge from the bowl, dropping it quickly as it threatened to burn his fingers. “Okay. Which one?”

  “Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Warrick said, his face flushing. “I’m not even sure what’s on at the moment. What sort of films do you like anyway?”

  “Not horror,” Leon said immediately. “Anything but horror.”

  AND that was more or less how Leon found himself in the back row at Tower Cinemas giggling over the antics of an animated fox. Sometimes the oldies were the goodies.

  “You really don’t mind?” Warrick had asked as they bought their tickets, trekking across the multicolored starburst carpet that always made Leon think of Technicolor smiley-face vomit.

  “I used to watch this constantly as a kid,” Leon said. “I wore the tape so thin in the party scene where he’s playing the fiddle with his bow that it would go gray and fuzzy on screen. And then for years I wanted to be an outlaw with a bow.”

  “A real life Robin Hood, huh?” Warrick said, digging into the buttery saltiness that was cinema popcorn.

  Leon squirmed back into the padded red cinema seats. “Yeah, well, you can be my Little John.”

  Warrick laughed, placing his large hand over Leon’s smaller one on the armrest. “As long as I don’t have to have his gut.”

  Leon smiled into the darkness. “You can be a muscle bear if you’d prefer, Warrick.”

  “Does this mean I can stop waxing my chest?”

  “Just how fuzzy do you get exactly?” Leon asked.

  Warrick squeezed Leon’s hand and turned his eyes back to the screen, where the aforementioned Little John was scratching at the back of his neck with an arrow. “Not as bad as him.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Leon said. “Otherwise unclogging the shower drain would be a bitch.”

  “Not to mention the grooming.”

  “Or fleas.”

  Warrick’s voice rose in outrage. “I would never have fleas{10}!”

  That earned them a loud “Shh!” from the row in front of them, and Leon chuckled, squeezing Warrick’s hand.

  He didn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

  They caught a taxi to campus, sitting in the back with their hands a finger-width apart and itching to close the gap between them, regardless of the potential consequences. When they finally arrived at Leon’s house, sitting on the corner of two unassuming streets, Warrick pushed Leon up against the brick facade and pressed their lips together. He tasted like butter and salt and the tang of Coke, and Leon yielded happily to Warrick’s demands. The other man’s body was hot against his own, the frisson of heat welcome in the coolness of the spring night. Strong hands cradled his head and slid down his torso to clutch at his ass.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” Warrick breathed, resting his forehead against Leon’s.

  Grinning, Leon grabbed the waistband of Warrick’s pants and dragged the other man closer. “What took you so long?”

  Warrick groaned and nestled his head in the crook of Leon’s neck. “Damn, I wish I lived in Sydney sometimes.”

  “But if you did, you wouldn’t have met me,” Leon said indulgently, kissing Warrick’s temple.

  “Mmm, there is that,” Warrick agreed, turning his head to press his lips against Leon’s again. “I do plan to get out of here eventually, though.”

  “You and me both,” Leon said with a grin. “You coming inside, or are you going to spend the rest of the night out here planning the future?”

  “You live by yourself?” Warrick asked, hooking his fingers into the back of Leon’s jeans as he followed Leon to the front door.

  “No,” Leon said as he dug his keys out of his pocket. “What exactly are you doing back there?”

  Warrick shrugged, his grin innocently cherubic. “I don’t know.”

  Pushing through the front door of the small house, Leon reached out to flick on the light switch. “Krissy?” he called. “Krissy, you in? Guess not,” he added as Warrick shut the door behind them. “Drink?”

  “No,” Warrick said, wrapping his arms around Leon’s waist and pulling him close. “I really don’t want a drink.”

  “Really?” Leon asked, tossing his keys onto a side table in the hallway. “What do you want then?”

  A soft kiss at the nape of his neck was followed by a second closer to his jaw, and then a third and fourth as a hand stroked down his front and rubbed lightly at the hardness encased in its prison of denim. “I want you. God, I want you so much.”

  “Come on,” Leon murmured, his voice husky. “Last door on the right.”

  They didn’t bother turning on the light, and instead stepped into the darkness in a tangle of arms, legs, teeth, and tongues. Hands sought out the hems of T-shirts, and for a moment, Leon just rested his hands on Warrick’s upper back, feeling muscles ripple as Warrick toyed with the zipper on Leon’s jeans, the metal teeth making their distinctive ripping sound just before the denim was peeled down Leon’s legs to tangle around his shoes.

  “You know, normally I like skinny jeans on you, but right now….”

  Pivoting on both feet, Leon sat backward onto his bed, reaching down to pull off his shoes. “You get yours, I’ll get mine?”

  Warrick knelt at the foot of the bed and placed his hands around Leon’s left sneaker. “But I want to do that.”

  “My way is faster,” Leon said.

  “Mine’s more fun,” Warrick countered as he eased off both of Leon’s sneakers, followed quickly by his jeans.

  “I suppose,” Leon said, reaching out and grabbing the back of Warrick’s T-shirt. “Okay, I’ll agree—this is much more fun.”

  Warrick lifted his arms helpfully, allowing Leon to pull the flimsy garment off, and Leon threw it to one side before running his hands over Warrick’s shoulders and chest, fingers seeking out the taut nipples he knew would be there and encountering something else along the way.

  “Do you really wax?” Leon asked, tugging gently at the stray strands of chest hair.

  “Yes,” Warrick said almost defensively as he stretched out on the bed beside Leon. “It does grow back, you know.”

  Leon chuckled and rolled to his side, his mouth trailing kisses from his lover’s mouth down to the center of Warrick’s chest. With a sudden grin, he bit down on one of Warrick’s nipples, eliciting a yelp and a sudden tightening of Warrick’s hands on the back of his head.

  “Was that a ‘stop’ or a ‘keep going’?” Leon mumbled, swiping hi
s tongue against the sensitive nub.

  “That was a ‘you could have warned me’, actually,” Warrick said, his voice more a gasp than anything else.

  “I know,” Leon said, kissing his way across Warrick’s chest toward the other nipple. “But where’s the fun in that?”

  “Fuck,” Warrick groaned, his hands twitching on Leon’s scalp as Leon hovered over him, waiting. “Leeeon.”

  Leon stayed exactly where he was, resisting the gentle urgings of Warrick’s hands until his lover met his gaze. “Hmm?”

  “This is torture,” Warrick said solemnly.

  Leon pushed Warrick onto his back and kissed his chest tenderly. “Is it?” he murmured, dropping his kisses lower along the trail of hairs leading down into Warrick’s shorts.

  “Yes, most definitely,” Warrick said, arching up into Leon’s touch.

  Leon grinned and reached out to cup Warrick’s cloth-covered erection with his right hand. “A belt?” he asked suddenly. “You wear a belt with shorts?”

  “What? It’s a nice belt. And it’s casual.”

  “With shorts.”

  “Hey, I wear scrubs eight to ten hours a day most days. I like dressing up every now and again.”

  “Well, it’s cheating.”

  “I’m sorry,” Warrick gasped as Leon bit down on the cotton-trapped shaft, nimble fingers deftly undoing the buckle and easing the woven canvas of the belt out of the clasp.

  “Oh, you will be,” Leon said, popping the buttons of his lover’s fly one by one. “Did you deliberately pick clothes that would be hard to get out of?”

  Warrick’s laughter was mingled with groans of pleasure. “No, I just picked the pair that showed off my ass.”

  “Warrick, hospital scrubs show off your ass,” Leon said drily as he finally tugged the other man’s shorts and briefs off, revealing a long, cut cock that was every bit as impressive as the man himself.

  “If you say so,” Warrick said, his breath slightly ragged as Leon swirled his tongue around Warrick’s length and took it deep into his throat.

  “Fuck,” Warrick groaned, his head tossing against the bedspread as his hands sought out Leon’s shoulders, urging him into a gentle rhythm and then pulling him off when he gagged.