With Everything I Have

by Cooper, R.

  Peter was back to working. After a moment Sebastian sighed and turned away. “There’s no use trying to convince her to stop, since I’ve no one.”

  “You want someone?” Peter’s response was slow. Sebastian walked over to the bonnet and considered the gears Peter was manually turning.

  “Is that a new idea for you?” Sebastian frowned at Peter, at the auto he didn’t understand, “Anyone wanting someone or me wanting someone?”

  Peter considered this statement, or Sebastian assumed he did from his momentary silence. “I don’t understand,” Peter said at last, “I thought the point of unions, aside from satisfying physical passions, was children.”

  “Physical passions,” Sebastian repeated the phrase with a kind of sad fascination. He had a feeling that was how Peter classified him, perhaps putting him into the category of friend but occasionally taking him out for “physical passions”. That was so much safer than admitting what he really was. “You’re an idiot, Peter,” Sebastian remarked on behalf of his bitter thoughts, doubtless confusing Peter even more. Peter made his familiar lost sound and Sebastian went on before Peter could ask him to explain.

  “There are marriages that lack physical passions but which remain strong,” he lectured, growing just a bit heated as he sought to make Peter understand. “There are marriages in which there is no feeling of any kind outside of friendship, and then there are marriages of many passions, not all of them physical. All of them require more than just—”

  “Fucking?” Peter filled in from under the auto. Sebastian rounded on him, not that Peter could see it.

  “Sexual congress,” he amended, delicate when he had no need to be. “History and respect and friendship are required as well. I would like that, Peter.” He had to force air in and out of his lungs. “I would like that very much. I deserve that as much as anyone else. Not just ardor that might cool. Not just being in love, but love itself.”

  “If it is a good thing of course you deserve it.” Peter was quiet again for a long time. “But I fail to see a difference.”

  “Because you don’t understand love.” Sebastian felt like he was beating his head against a wall. He took a moment to compose himself. He was calmer when he spoke again but not by much. “For a lifelong journey with another person, even you must admit that it’s not an entirely bad notion, friendship and fondness. Passion.”

  His mouth was dry from panic. His heartbeat roared in his ears. This wasn’t where he had meant the conversation to go. Peter was staying out of sight under his auto, staying among the things that made sense to him. The things that gave him comfort, because Sebastian was confusing him again, possibly frightening him.

  Sebastian fought the need to apologise for demanding things from Peter that Peter could not give. He lost. “Peter…”

  “For a normal person,” Peter commented, not making any sense until Sebastian recalled his last words.

  “It’s not an entirely bad notion, for a normal person?” Sebastian questioned, blinking in surprise at the unexpected response. “What is a normal person?” It was his turn for a puzzled frown. “You mean a man and a woman?” He hadn’t thought Peter had ever noticed gossip or conventional attitudes, but he supposed some of Peter’s father’s disgust and disdain for Peter could have been based on more than Peter’s childhood hobbies and perceived failings. Perhaps Peter had shown an early interest in boys as well as engines. Sebastian was once again grateful the old man had died. The bastard had suffered an apoplectic fit over a card game, followed by a brain fever and rapid decline. Peter hadn’t shed a tear. Sebastian didn’t think anyone had.

  Peter interrupted Sebastian vengeful thoughts. “Someone who isn’t broken,” he declared, his tone level but his body very still. “A person capable of… those emotions.” Peter didn’t name them. That wasn’t surprising, or at least, not as surprising as Peter speaking so directly about himself.

  Sebastian came back around to stare at what parts of Peter he could see. “Peter , you know as well as I do that you have feelings.” He had to struggle to keep his voice low.

  “Those are different.” Peter scooted out from beneath the undercarriage but didn’t move to get to his feet. On his back he looked up, his clear gaze wide and disarming. There was colour across his cheekbones, not as rousing a red as the autowagon above him but still flushed, still lovely.

  “How so?” Sebastian heard himself asking while his eyes travelled over Peter’s open collar and rolled up sleeves. Peter had traces of perspiration at his throat, grease at his wrists and on his fingertips. His grip was tight on the undercarriage of the autowagon as he stared up. “You mean physical passions.” Sebastian realized softly, not asking. Peter looked almost as he had the other night, half-naked and held down. He swallowed at Sebastian’s scrutiny and Sebastian licked his lips before turning away. He heard Peter stand up and brush himself off. “Passions?” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Do you think those are separate from everything else that couples feel?” It was a morning to be especially irked by Peter’s refusal to see the obvious. It was no different from any other morning yet somehow it was. Perhaps it was his silly hope the other night that Peter had been worried about Prudence Dawson. Sebastian didn’t know what had changed to make Peter bring up the subject of love, but he didn’t much care for having his lost hopes taken apart like a faulty autowagon. He snapped. “Physical passions are nice on their own, Peter, but they are very different when emotion is involved. When love is involved, they are better.”

  He turned back with his fists at his sides, prepared for an argument.

  Peter kept his gaze to the side. “You are the expert. I cede to your experience,” he murmured, and took his time wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

  Sebastian honestly had no idea what to say to that. He let out a puff of air then looked at the red auto in front of him. It was like fire. Like a sunset, or a red-hot iron rod. It was breathtaking and terrifying in its beauty. Sebastian studied its shiny curves and nearly considered it art.

  “You had something to show me,” he reminded Peter after a few minutes.

  Peter came over to stand next to him. “What do you think of the colour?” He was suddenly all motion, jerky twitches of his hands, a soft bounce on the balls of his feet. Sebastian had an urge to pet him and make him be still. He could do it, that was the damnable thing. Peter would let him. All he would lose was Peter for the next few days or weeks.

  “You woke me up to ask about a shade of red?” Sebastian wondered aloud without remarking on Peter’s strange energy. He quirked a small smile for Peter to see. It didn’t relax Peter any. He was waiting for Sebastian’s true opinion. “Other people would have just asked me to breakfast if they wanted to see me,” Sebastian couldn’t help teasing, enjoying the moment. Peter was so anxious it could have been Christmas morning. If Sebastian kept it up Peter might start tugging on Sebastian’s coat and pleading for his honest opinion of his work.

  “I did ask you to breakfast.” Peter did not seem to get the joke.

  Sebastian glanced at him then back at the auto. “It’s… very bright,” he gave in, feigning disapproval as if he wasn’t smiling for Peter to see. Peter looked pointedly down at Sebastian’s ensemble, his black morning coat with the poppy red lining, the black and crimson embroidered waistcoat.

  “’If they are going to stare, then let them stare’,” Peter quoted a very stupid thing a very young Sebastian had once said regarding the people who hadn’t hidden their discomfort at having a quadroon at their garden parties. Sebastian had never wanted attention but had always received it. He’d learned to accept it, deflect it when necessary, even enjoy it at times, but retiring some place quiet and secluded at the end of the day was his usual goal.

  But they weren’t talking about Sebastian. They were talking about Peter. Sebastian tried again, lessening his smile. “It’s a beautiful machine, Peter. With more of an eye toward aesthetics than your usual designs which aim for speed.” It wasn’t like Peter at all, al
though Sebastian was certain the auto could go very fast. Peter avoided looking at him. Sebastian offered him a small frown of confusion. “But you will attract attention. You will attract all eyes in fact.” Peter hated, or feared, attention, Sebastian had never been able to determine which.

  “It’s not for me.” Peter’s tone said clearly that he thought Sebastian was being slow on purpose.

  Sebastian shot him another frown. The man was maddening. A few words from Peter and Sebastian’s heart was racing. He was furious and aroused and touched. Only Peter could make Sebastian feel all these things at once.

  “Another one for me?” Sebastian tried to stay light. “I already seem like an extravagant dandy to most.” It was no good, the autowagon was exquisite and Peter was staring hopefully at him. Sebastian sighed, not nearly as put out as he wished he was. “It’s perfect, Peter, as you already know.”

  He didn’t think Peter was aware of how his expression lit up at the compliment. If it wouldn’t have scared him away, Sebastian would have drawn him forward for a kiss, a small reward of a kiss across his mouth. Peter, with his practical mind, who channeled what passion he allowed himself to feel into gears and engines, had thought of Sebastian and created this. He deserved a kiss for it. He deserved more than that.

  Sebastian bit his tongue to hold his words back. He had to tread carefully lest he spoil this remarkable peace. He turned to the autowagon and allowed to tone to become sly. “But I will like it better if you do all the driving in it.”

  Peter stepped in closer to him, a smile blooming across his face at the implied invitation to go driving. Sebastian’s breath caught but the moment was already over. Peter stopped and lowered his gaze to somewhere about level with Sebastian’s cravat. His smile disappeared, replaced with a tense frown. Then he moved away.

  “I did interrupt your morning plans. I will let you get back to them.” Peter bent over his creation until his face was out of sight. He gave something inside the autowagon a vicious tug and then swore under his breath. “With the fuel I’ve been using sometimes there is a knocking sound. I think air is getting in and I want something else. A new formula.”

  Sebastian blinked and headed after him, pausing to look at reflection in a shiny bit of chromium plating. On one side of his jaw, nearly invisible, was a trace of beard burn.

  “Buggering fuck.” Sebastian borrowed one of Peter’s favorite phrases. “Peter—”

  “No, it’s my fault. I’m stupid. I should have fixed this. I am sure the problem is obvious and anyone else would have seen it by now.” Peter gripped the edge of the bonnet and pushed his body away before slamming the lid down. The auto rocked back and forth on its blocks. Sebastian jumped and Peter turned toward him with a horrified expression. “Are you all right?”

  Sebastian barely got a chance to nod before Peter was chastising himself, his face ashen, his voice a self-loathing whisper. “So damn worthless. I meant it to be a gift and I ruined it.” Peter clenched and unclenched his hands then took a long breath. The momentary outward sign of fury was already gone, buried until Peter lost control again. Peter shivered. “I’m sorry, Sebastian.” Peter said those words how he always said them, as if he were apologising for everything possible about himself. This time he could have meant anything from the bright red colour of the auto, to his fit of temper and losing his composure, as if that was why Sebastian was worried.

  “I’m just like him, you know,” Peter offered. “I don’t even know what I’m saying when my temper gets the better of me.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You should go. I have work.” He spun about in a wild, aborted movement as if he wanted to get back to work and couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He looked quickly away from Sebastian’s eyes. “How many times do you have witness this before you understand?” His mouth twisted, the only warning that his composure was more fragile than it seemed, and then Peter grabbed a tool from a chair and hurled it to the wall. The crash as it bounced and hit the floor was louder than the initial contact with the wall but Peter flinched and shut his eyes.

  Eyes closed, so Sebastian wouldn’t see what he was feeling.

  Sebastian was very quiet. “Look at me, Peter. Tell me.”

  Peter tightened his jaw. “You don’t understand. When I feel, I want… I want to—”

  “You aren’t him.” Sebastian strode forward and broke the rules by putting his hands to Peter’s face and making Peter look at him. Peter was scowling so Sebastian scowled too. “You aren’t your father and you aren’t worthless, no matter what he told you.”

  Peter tried to shake his head and couldn’t. His eyes seemed larger, pleading, but he didn’t look away. A few moments later he gave a little nod. It was hard to say if he believed what Sebastian had told him, if he had ever believed it, but Sebastian released him and stepped back.

  Peter turned to the side to compose himself, just as he did after Sebastian had pleasured him. It had taken Sebastian far too long to realize that Peter didn’t like Sebastian to see him uncontrolled any more than he liked for Sebastian to see him regain his control. For better or for worse, Sebastian’s opinion mattered that much to him. Peter did not wish Sebastian to see the demons that he held inside or to think him weak.

  It made Sebastian wonder for the thousandth time how often Peter’s father had frightened or beaten his son to the point of screaming or tears and then ordered Peter to be silent.

  “If you think I am disgusted by your released emotions, you are very, very wrong.” Perhaps it was the early hour but Sebastian did not feel like letting the issue go. Just once he wanted his words to stick. Just once in this world the good things people said should carry more weight in the human mind than all the bad. Peter was afraid of becoming his father when his emotions surged but he was nothing like the man. “Peter.” Sebastian didn’t care if they heard him in the house, if Smythe took away his key; Peter was going to hear this in a way he could not ignore. “You are a clever, curious, generous man who would do anything for the people he admires and cares about.”

  Peter made a noise in his throat like a strangled protest. Sebastian kept going. “The only hurts you have ever inflicted have been entirely unintentional. You are so much better than your father. You are so much better than anyone else I have ever met.” Sebastian cut himself off there, too suddenly, aching at the bared need in Peter’s expression.

  Everyone should hear their own graces from time to time. Everyone usually did, even black sodomites with a love of bright waistcoats who insisted on making appearances at the very best parties. Peter simply needed it more than most. Sebastian should have told Peter these things every day, to hell with his exposed heart. He should have said this before, made it clear.

  Sebastian let out an irritated sound and stalked back to the door and the telephone on the stand nearby. He asked Smythe to have breakfast ready and then returned to face Peter.

  “I keep telling you to go,” Peter whispered without looking directly at him.

  “I have nowhere else I’d rather be,” Sebastian told him, still too raw to resist honesty.

  “I’m sorry,” Peter said again, bringing his eyes up at last. He seemed startled when Sebastian caught his breath and smiled at him. The smile surprised Sebastian as well.

  “In all the years of this, Peter, not once, not once ever in our history when you have lost your temper have you ever hurled anything my way, or at anyone else for that matter. Not once have I ever seen you even think of doing so.” Sebastian let his smile slip away. “You are more of a danger to yourself than you are to me. We all lose our tempers,” he took a breath, “or our minds in bed. Do you think I have never lost mine?” It was as far as he thought he could take the matter despite the growing astonishment on Peter’s face. “Now, let’s eat, and then you can take me for a drive in this showpiece. I haven’t been out of the city in ages and I think you could use an afternoon to run wild.” Peter needed to drive his roadsters the way he did, especially in a mood like this one.

 
Peter was coming back to himself. His quick frown said he’d caught that Sebastian was beginning to tease him but he didn’t understand the joke.

  “You are obviously a man of intense physical passions,” Sebastian informed him helpfully then felt his head go back in surprise when Peter nodded gravely in response.

  “I know,” Peter told him, sounding as if he truly did. He sighed as he walked to the door.

  ~~~

  Sebastian held onto the top of the passenger door with both hands and pressed both of his feet flat to the floor in a vain effort to keep from being thrown back and forth by the motions of the autowagon. If he wasn’t bruised and sore by the time the ride was over he’d be very surprised. Not that he knew when the ride would be over. Even with goggles on to protect his eyes, there was something terrifying about looking around at a world flying past him. What should have been an idyllic countryside was barely more than a blur, leading him to decide some time back that man was not meant to travel this fast. He felt the same about dirigibles. They were amazing machines, lighter than air, but entirely too far from the ground.

  Peter would disagree. He was practically singing he was so elated to be behind the wheel. His hands slid over the wheel with confidence, his grip on the gearshift was sure. Small hills were nothing to his auto any more than a sharp turn was. Sebastian prayed that the roar of the engine warned any and all people and livestock off the road, because he did not think Peter’s speed would allow them to stop quickly.

  Peter would say they were not going fast enough. On his own he would no doubt have driven much faster, taken the bends in the roads with reckless abandon. Having Sebastian as a passenger meant he changed gears less, kept his speed far below what it would have been otherwise. It helped that the dirt roads were not smooth, forcing Peter to what he termed a crawl. Sebastian’s stomach was churning, his mouth was dry, and his hair was probably a mess. He would never understand Peter’s love for this, but in their slower moments he appreciated viewing the scenery with Peter at his side and how content Peter was behind the wheel.