“I take it Quint isn’t on your heels?” his double, inveterate moment-ruiner, asked.
“No,” Aidan said. “He’s dead.”
Thank fuck. They’d never have known peace otherwise. Caleb squeezed Aidan tighter. “I was afraid you—”
“Me too,” Aidan said. He rested his forehead against Caleb’s shoulder and murmured, “They won’t be able to declare him dead for a long time. His body just disappeared.”
“Good. No evidence,” Caleb’s double said. “You’ll probably be questioned, but the two of you have enough practice with that. Now let’s get out of his house where his blood is staining the carpet. I know you can’t jump, and I can’t jump, so we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Stealing one of Quint’s cars is a bad idea. How far can you walk?”
Aidan, who was sitting up only because Caleb was holding him up, waved a hand. “I know a hundred and seventy-eight people who can teleport.”
“Oh,” Caleb’s double said. “That does make this considerably easier.”
They spent another night in the Florida safehouse, and Caleb didn’t let go the whole time.
Two days later, Aidan took pride in landing Other Caleb and himself precisely in the middle of Other Caleb’s bedroom. It looked exactly as it had the last time, its bed neatly made and the desk clear except for the paperback novel. Other Caleb set the box of suppressant and the leather-bound book he’d stolen from Quint’s house down next to it. “An upgrade.”
“Glad you got something out of this,” Aidan said. “You’ve done so much for us already, and I know you had to give up a lot.”
“Like I said, better than ending up dead.”
“A low bar.”
“I’m not entirely useless without it,” Other Caleb said.
“Oh, trust me, I know. We owe you.”
“You can pay me back by taking care of that fucking hole you blew in the Nowhere before something comes through it.”
“I was in prison when they made the breach,” Aidan said. “But they’re on it. I’ll make sure of it.”
“They’d better be. It was… nice to meet you, sort of.”
Aidan couldn’t help the face he made at that ringing endorsement. He couldn’t blame the man, though. They’d dragged him into this whole affair.
Other Caleb scratched the back of his head, uncharacteristically flustered. “Nothing against you. It’s just, you know.” He paused for a long time. “I was pissed, when I first saw him in those interviews. I thought he was pretending. Lying. It disgusted me, and not much does.”
Aidan had no idea what to say to that.
“And then I realized he wasn’t pretending, and that was worse,” Other Caleb continued. “I’ve never felt anything like that, and now for the rest of my goddamn life, I’m gonna be stuck wondering if it’s because there’s only one you.”
“It’s not,” Aidan said, possessed of sudden certainty. “You’re not him, he’s not you. Don’t fall into that trap. You have firsthand experience of the multiverse. The infinite. I’m not worth getting stuck on, I promise.”
“You are to him,” he said. “And despite everything, it was kind of nice to play a small part in that. Don’t fuck it up.”
22
I Know a Place
Because Quint had disappeared under a cloud of suspicion, the government seized his assets.
Caleb only followed the news to discern two things: how often suspicion fell on him or Aidan or both of them, and whether anyone had noticed the funds he and Laila had diverted. The unfortunate answer to his first concern was very often, but no one could prove anything, and public opinion was more favorable toward Aidan than it had ever been. And as for the second, the amount—more money than Caleb had ever hoped to earn in his life—was so small as to be forgettable, and Laila possessed a skill for financial sleight-of-hand that might as well have been real magic as far as Caleb could tell.
They stayed in the safehouse. It took a week for Caleb to stop thinking Quint almost killed you every time he touched Aidan—and he touched Aidan as much as he could. It was a talisman of some kind, or a ritual, and every time he did it, a little more of his numb shock transformed into relief.
Laila stayed with them most of the time, occasionally leaving to take a call or go to a meeting. Aidan didn’t inquire about her business, probably because all three of them had sidestepped any conversation topics that veered too close to the serious questions of last week, or worse, next week. That worked out well for Caleb. He would have lied to preserve the surprise, but he didn’t have to.
In the second week, both of them grew restless, cooped up and inactive for too long, and finally Caleb ventured, “What if we went out for a walk?”
Sunlight was pouring through the living room window, glinting off Aidan’s dark hair as he turned away from the view of the empty street. “If we’re seen here, it puts the safehouse at risk.”
“We have to be seen at some point,” Caleb said. He’d kept his tablet off the whole time they’d been here, but it was likely full of messages. Authorities had already tracked down his parents, his sister, Miss Tallulah, and many, many friends and exes to ask where he might be. Deb had been on the news saying don’t ask me, he never answers my texts.
“And,” Caleb continued, “I was thinking of somewhere else, anyway.”
“Yeah? Where?”
“The old neighborhood,” Caleb said. Before Aidan could say anything, he added, “People will see us, but we can handle it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m eager to get out of here, too.”
Aidan embraced him and brought them both to the sidewalk in front of the apartment building where they’d once lived. The brownstone itself was unchanged, but there were different curtains hanging in the windows. The one on the ground floor gave them a glimpse of an impressive collection of potted plants.
Orange and brown leaves dotted the sidewalk. If not for the newer cars parked on the street, it could have been a fall day ten years ago.
Caleb wouldn’t have been holding Aidan’s hand back then. He tugged on it. “This way.”
As they walked, Aidan said, “Where do you think you’ll go, after this?”
“Wherever you’re going,” Caleb said. At last, they could talk about the future. They had a future to talk about now, the whole of it—however many unknown days or weeks or years comprised it—untouched by Oswin Lewis Quint. Caleb wasn’t naive enough think the rest of their lives would be free of fear, but they’d closed that particular chapter. Whatever else was out there waiting for them, they’d have each other. He’d never minded getting into trouble, as long as Aidan was there.
Caleb continued, “I hope you’re planning to stay somewhere in the city, because I’m kind of attached to it. I’ve had enough of space, and I still haven’t had coffee with Deb. I can’t believe she took her complaint to the media.”
“You want to live with me?” Aidan asked, ignoring the latter half of what Caleb had said.
“I haven’t been doing a very good job expressing my feelings, if you have to ask,” Caleb said.
“No, no, I don’t doubt that, but… it’s hard for me to get an apartment.”
“I know,” Caleb said. “Me too, now, probably. It doesn’t change how I feel. I want us to live together. And I think I know a place.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said, smiling so hard he had to bite his bottom lip. They’d walked two blocks and were now standing across from a building very much like the one they’d grown up in. He tilted his head toward it. “That one.”
Aidan didn’t understand what he was looking at. A four-story brownstone with a column of bay windows on the left and a rounded arch over its main entrance, but they couldn’t live there. Even aside from his difficulties renting, there was a sign on the stoop that said “sold.”
Oh.
“I wanted the one where we grew up, but it wasn’t available,” Caleb said. “This one was on the market, though.”
“That mean old lady used to live on the ground floor here,” Aidan said. Retreating to the past was easier, since the present was overwhelming.
“Mrs. Litman,” Caleb said, because of course he remembered her name. “Anyway, I was thinking about how much trouble you always have with landlords, and how nobody will rent to runners, and that’s why the Union doesn’t have any kind of headquarters or public address where people can find it. And I know some of it’s because runners are scared to be found out, or to all gather in one place, but you shouldn’t have to be. It’s wrong that anyone would keep you from having that. I want that to change. And I thought, well, what if there wasn’t a landlord?”
It came out so fast that most of it ran together. Then Caleb finished, “So Laila and I took some of Quint’s money and bought a building.”
“I’m getting that,” Aidan said, and Caleb fished a ring of keys out of his pocket and pressed it into Aidan’s hand. “When did you do this?”
“Pretty much from the moment we got into his house. Laila started moving money around while she was waiting for us to come back from interviews, and then it took another couple of weeks to wrap things up. She did all the work. I think she’s technically your trustee now. She was really excited about this. Did you know Laila knows a lot about finance?”
“That is the least surprising part of this,” Aidan said.
“If you don’t want it to be owned in trust, we can change that,” Caleb said as they walked up the stairs to the entrance. “It’s yours.”
Aidan shook his head. “Ours.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Caleb said, and kissed him. “There’s three apartments on the upper floors, and I was thinking we could use the ground floor and the basement for… communal meeting spaces, maybe?”
“Sounds perfect,” Aidan said, sliding the key into the lock. The entryway arched above them. The building wasn’t gigantic—far smaller than Quint’s mansion—but it felt huge, every unfurnished space bright with potential. They walked through, holding hands and marveling at all of it, until they reached the top floor apartment and Aidan had to catch his breath. “This is… so much. It almost doesn’t feel real.”
“What would make it feel real?”
Aidan laughed, then caught sight of Caleb—the line between his brows, the uncertain curve of his mouth—and said, with perfect seriousness, “Is there a bed in there?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said. “I didn’t buy much because I didn’t want to make decisions for you, but I knew you didn’t own any furniture, so I did put a bed in the top-floor apartment.” He paused, embarrassed. “At the time, I wasn’t planning… you know.”
“It’s good that there’s a bed,” Aidan said, still serious. He unlocked the door and let them both in. Morning sun streamed through the windows onto the bare hardwood floors. Aidan bypassed the kitchen and the living room, heading for the promised bed.
It sat alone in the middle of the room, incongruously already made up with sheets and pillows.
Aidan said, “Because if there wasn’t a bed, it would have to be down on the floor or up against the wall.”
“I’m happy to offer you either of those options,” Caleb said, pushing Aidan’s jacket off his shoulders, grabbing the hem of his shirt and stripping it over his head, then setting to work on the fly of his jeans. “But I thought it would be nice if the first time I fucked you was in our bed. In our apartment. That we own.”
It was good that someone he’d known his whole life could still surprise him. It promised good things for the future—and right now. Aidan grinned and kissed him, interrupting his work. “You wanna try it, huh?”
“Just like in the rest of my life, I swing both ways.”
Aidan huffed. “I’m only laughing because you’re obviously so pleased with yourself.”
“Oh, you’ll be pleased with me, too. That’s the whole idea.”
Aidan did laugh then. “The bed’s good, in that case. Gotta break it in. Take your clothes off already.”
Aidan left his jeans and boxers on the floor and perched on the bed. Caleb revealed himself quickly and carelessly, dropping his clothes like he wasn’t the most beautiful person in this or any reality. Even after days of being treated to this—every shower, every change of clothes—the thought of Caleb undressing still turned him on. The sight itself overpowered him. He couldn’t not touch himself. Just a little. Fuck, but that felt good.
“I want you literally all the time,” Aidan said. “In any way you will have me.”
“Good,” Caleb said, and pushed him flat on his back with one hand. “Me too.”
“No accounting for taste,” Aidan joked.
“You shut up about my boyfriend,” Caleb said. He spread Aidan’s legs and knelt between them, caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “You’re beautiful.”
Aidan shivered as Caleb’s fingers dipped lower. He loved getting fingered and fucked, but had rarely allowed his partners to do it. He trusted Caleb.
Caleb paused to pour lube over his hand. When he touched Aidan again, his movements were gentle but confident.
“You’ve done this before,” Aidan said, surprised again.
The look Caleb shot him made him feel sheepish and guilty, and he braced himself for a joke about his alleged sex spreadsheet. Instead, Caleb said, “Yeah, and I’m good at it, too.”
“Been holding out on me.”
“You’re gonna get it,” Caleb said, and demonstrated by slowly sliding a finger in. Aidan’s entire nervous system lit up with pleasure. He twitched his hips, wanting more.
“I forgot how much I liked this,” Aidan said, his voice weak like he’d been screaming. They’d barely started. One finger was nothing.
Caleb obliged him with another, fondling his balls while he did it. He shifted his attention upward, offering a handful of long, slow strokes to Aidan’s cock that were nowhere near enough. It was impossibly sexy to watch him work, his brown head bent low and all of his focus trained on the steady motion of his hands like he was ready and willing to do this for hours. Caleb hadn’t touched himself yet, and his hard cock bobbed between his thighs, curving upward and dripping, a temptation that Aidan couldn’t reach.
Aidan licked his lips. “I want to ride you. Right now.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Caleb said, grinning. He took his fingers out, the loss leaving Aidan cool and empty. Caleb flopped down onto the bed, reached for the lube once more, and slicked down his shaft.
Aidan wasted no time in climbing on top of him. Sinking down onto his cock was goddamn glorious. He gasped at the hot, slippery fullness of it, just on the edge of too much, and then levered himself back up and sank down again.
“Fuck,” Caleb said, letting his head drop back to the pillow. He lifted it a moment later, unable to look away. He rested his hands on Aidan’s hips, then Aidan leaned forward to kiss him, sloppy and hard, and his hands slid up Aidan’s chest. “You feel so good. You’re so gorgeous. Don’t stop.”
Caleb’s gaze burned right through him, leaving him lightheaded and happy. Fuck, they could do this every day. Here. Where they lived.
Still pumping his hips, Aidan seized Caleb’s hands. He brought one to his cock and simply held the other. Caleb stroked him, his attention still riveted to the place where their bodies joined, until he closed his eyes. Aidan felt the stutter and release of his orgasm a second later, then Caleb relaxed beneath him, his darkly furred chest rising and falling. Aidan came an instant later, seized with the sweetness of it, heat washing through him and spilling onto Caleb’s hand.
After they separated, Aidan tumbled onto his back, the bed soft beneath him. He squeezed Caleb’s hand again.
“It’s a beautiful place.”
It could have been a windowless basement and Aidan would have loved it, because he’d never had a place of his own ever, and Caleb had found one for both of them. And not just any place, but one Aidan would have chosen for himself, if he’d ever thought he had
a choice: the neighborhood where they’d grown up, where they’d gotten to know each other and gotten into trouble, the only place in the multiverse where Aidan had roots.
Even without furniture, it was cozy and full of light. With Caleb beside him, it already felt like home.
They moved in right away. It didn’t take long, since Aidan had never owned anything and Caleb had sold all his furniture when he’d given up his apartment. It was a few days of indoor camping, but Caleb had never been happier.
The first Sunday morning in their new apartment, Caleb walked into the kitchen after a very satisfying lie-in and a long shower and found Laila. He hadn’t seen her since Thursday, when he’d texted her to ask where she was and whether she wanted to be there when he showed Aidan the building, and she’d replied that she’d be back in a few days.
She was sitting at the table drinking coffee and scrolling through her phone. Her pink hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, exposing the black roots near her ears. She didn’t have any makeup on.
“Morning,” she said. “There’s an empty apartment below this one, did you know that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “There are two empty apartments, actually.”
“No,” she said. “There’s one.”
Aidan walked into the kitchen and stopped beside him, resting a hand on the small of his back. “Uh, good morning, Laila.”
“Laila’s our downstairs neighbor,” Caleb said. “As of right now.”
“Also, Kit’s gonna call us in a sec, everybody up there wants a tour of this place,” Laila said. “I know I’m not officially your stylist anymore, but… maybe put on a shirt?”
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