By the Way

by Megan Derr

  Antoine remained silent, and they continued that way all through breakfast. Wally hated it. So much for a celebration. "When next month do you leave?" he finally asked.

  "Don't know, but sooner rather than later."

  "Guess that means you won't be here for your birthday, then," Wally said, the news depressing him further. They always celebrated their birthdays together. They did everything together, and he had no idea how he was going to do any of it without Antoine around.

  He'd hoped they'd do so much more. His hazy plans…well, they didn't matter now. Antoine was leaving, and furious with him at the moment, and Wally dreaded what an ocean of distance would do. He pushed his waffle away, only a couple of bites taken. "I should get you back to work. You've better things to be doing than wasting your time on me."

  By the Way | 9

  Not waiting for a reply, more terrified there would be none, he strode from the diner and back to his car. They drove back in silence, and he hated it so goddamned much, because these were the sorts of silences he was divorcing. They weren't supposed to come from Antoine.

  But, they'd be fine, he assured himself. They'd argued before, they always worked it out in the end. It wasn't very heartening, though, when Antoine only told him 'bye' before slamming the car door shut and stalking back into his office building.

  They'd be fine, Wally thought again. They'd never gone longer than a day when they were pissed off.

  Except when he called that night to see where they were going for dinner, he got no answer. Antoine did not pick up any of his three lines. Fine, let him sulk.

  But when he called in the morning, there was still no answer.

  Every day he called, and every day he got nothing.

  Two weeks passed, and he called to say the divorce was proceeding beautifully. It would all wrap up for good in a matter of days. But he told his good news to the answering machine. Antoine never called him back. Wally celebrated his pending freedom alone.

  After that, he gave up. He heard from someone else when Antoine left to go overseas. Though he kept his phone glued to his hand, Antoine never called or emailed or even fucking texted to say goodbye.

  Wally tried to blow him off the same way Antoine had apparently ditched him…but it was like trying to staunch a wound that ran too deep for the bleeding to stop. They'd never ignored each other for longer than a day. He saw Antoine more than he'd ever seen his wife. As hopeless as it was, he'd been in love with Antoine for at least a decade, and sometimes he thought it might have been there all along. Did Antoine really hate him so much now?

  He should just move on, learn to live without Antoine attached at the hip. Pride said Antoine could go to fucking hell. But pride was a cold companion. He just wanted Antoine back.

  Getting his address in London proved to be a bitch, but Wally managed it, and arranged his birthday present.

  Now…now he had to sit here and wait, and hope to god the asshole opened the fucking thing.

  *~*~*

  Antoine had never been so fucking miserable in his entire life, except maybe for those years before he'd somehow found himself a family. He couldn't even say how the fuck he'd gotten himself into this mess.

  Shit had spiraled out of control, until he'd slunk off to London feeling like the lowest and dirtiest of rats.

  He'd only meant to ignore Wally for the day—that was the longest they could stand, whenever they argued. When he'd still been angry, he'd gone another day, giving himself time to get his head on straight and get over stupid, petty jealousy that he had no business feeling, time to get over…

  10 | Megan Derr

  Oh, who was he kidding? He was angry and hurt and jealous as fuck that he had already lost Wally a second time. This time, he couldn't even hate the bastard who'd stolen Wally away. Wally would make a great father; he should have been one a long damned time ago.

  He'd had every intention of getting Wally on the path to children himself…but he had selfishly wanted Wally to himself for a little while first. He'd loved the bastard almost from the moment they meant, definitely longer than that fucking cunt Kathleen. He'd even sucked it up and been Wally's best man. All he'd wanted was a year alone with Wally, with no ex-wife looming. London was the perfect chance for Wally to start over.

  Now, they hadn't talked in nearly a month and a half, and it was a living hell.

  But he hadn't truly felt like the scum of the earth until he'd returned to the flat the company had gotten him for the year, and seen the package waiting for him. The note with it said I know you said you weren't buying this until you were a fat cat at forty, but given you're five years ahead of schedule, I figured the wine should come early too. Happy Birthday.

  He'd ignored Wally for more than a month, and the bastard had still sent him a $5000.00 bottle of wine.

  Wally always had been too good for his own damned good. Antoine tossed back the whiskey he'd poured before opening the birthday present, then shook his head and set the glass down. Snatching up his phone, he texted Coming to drink it with me?

  The reply came thirty agonizing minutes later, just when he'd begun to give up and think the wine had been happy birthday and goodbye, asshole. When his phone finally beeped, Antoine couldn't get it open fast enough.

  You're paying for my ticket, asshole.

  Antoine laughed in relief. You know how to charge it to my account.

  Yeah, and I did. Hours ago, you dick. Come pick me up.

  The words made him laugh and laugh, with so much goddamn relief, anyone who heard him would probably think he'd lost his mind. Which one? He texted, then grabbed his wallet, keys, and jacket.

  Necessary information obtained, Antoine dashed. It took 500 years to reach Heathrow, but he did finally reach it, and the spot where Wally waited. But, god, the sight of Wally was worth 500 years. It was worth 5000 or more.

  "Hey, player. What's playing today? By the way, you're the world's biggest dick."

  "Yeah, I know," Antoine replied, and shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid doing what he really wanted—yank Wally close and kiss him senseless in apology. "How's the bun in the oven?"

  Wally took the question for the apology it was intended. "Well. The oven is a bitch, but after she saw what I could have done to her in the divorce, she's been watching it with my kid. It's a boy, by the way."

  By the Way | 11

  "Going to be a Junior?" Antoine asked, and snagged one of the two duffel bags Wally had. Was he staying for awhile? He tried to focus on the conversation, and not on having Wally alone for several days or weeks.

  "Hell no," Wally replied, hefting the other bag and falling into step alongside him as they left the airport.

  "One Wallace Mortimer Burgundy is enough. I'm not that cruel. Haven't settled on a name yet, and there's time enough."

  "Tick, tock, tick, tock," Antoine muttered, then fell silent as he drove them back to his flat. Since arriving, he'd had zero interest in anything but work and what socializing that requited. With Wally suddenly beside him, chatting about his flight, the wine, smelling of his vaguely tropical cologne, Antoine suddenly wanted to go everywhere, do everything, and enjoy ever last fucking minute of it with Wally.

  In his flat, he dumped Wally's bag in the spare bedroom. "Get settled, man. I'll tend the wine."

  He fussed with the wine more than was really necessary, setting out glasses and opening it to breathe, fiddling and moving restlessly until he finally got so disgusted he forced himself to sit the hell down and not move.

  The futility of this order was making itself apparent when Wally emerged. Gone were the business casual clothes in which he'd traveled, and instead he wore faded jeans and one of his two million band t-shirts, just as faded as the jeans and fitting with wonderful, evil snugness across his broad shoulders and chest. Good ol' Wally, not Wallace Burgundy, scout extraordinaire.

  Antoine wanted to fuck him until neither one of them could move. More than that, though, he just wanted to kiss, to hold—to be able to do those
things whenever he felt like it. He'd give anything, his whole goddamn world, to be allowed to pull Wally down beside him, run a hand through the silver-touched brown-red hair, and kiss him long and slow and sweet.

  But what was the point? They were friends, and it was fifteen years too late to say 'I've always loved you, and I can do a better job of it than your ex-wife'. Plus, Wally was going to be a father. No one asked a guy like Antoine to set up house. Not even a best friend, especially one who saw him only as a friend.

  It was best to stop thinking about it. He motioned for Wally to sit, then poured the rich, dark red wine for them.

  "So how does it taste?" Wally asked several minutes later, after they had each finished a glass.

  "Good," Antoine said, meaning it was fucking wonderful, and the small curve of Wally's mouth said he knew it. Wally always knew it. "Thank you."

  Wally shrugged his wonderfully broad shoulders, dismissing the thanks. "For the record, if you break up with all your lovers the way you broke up with me, jackass, it's no wonder you run through them the way you do."

  "I never keep them long enough to have to worry about breaking up, really," Antoine replied, and really hoped that after all this time, Wally wouldn't finally ask why.

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  "The master player."

  This time, it was Antoine's turn to shrug words away like they were inconsequential. "None of them are what I want, I guess. But good wine deserves better conversation topics." He took another slow, appreciative sip. "How long are you staying?"

  "Don't know," Wally said, shooting him a look. "I wasn't even certain I'd be leaving the fucking airport.

  But, if you're speaking to me, I can definitely stay a couple of weeks. Maybe more, I have to play it by ear. I'm in the middle of buying a new house. Which you'd know, if you'd been speaking to me."

  "You are going to run that into the ground, aren't you?"

  "You're lucky I didn't punch you, Antoine."

  "Fair enough. So two weeks definitely. Cool."

  Wally nodded, and sipped at his wine in silence for a couple of minutes. Then he abruptly sighed, set it down, and shook his head. "Give it, man. You made me feel like shit for a fucking month and a half. You weren't there for anything, whenever I called you. Not even to celebrate with me. Couldn't even tell me goodbye, asshole. So what gives?"

  "To celebrate what?" Antoine asked, unable to keep back all of the bitterness. "Your ditching marriage and picking up fatherhood all in the same breath?"

  "Minor details aside," Wally said quietly, somewhat sadly, "I would have thought you'd be happy for me."

  "You'll be the best damned father ever," Antoine said to his wine. "I just wish you'd gotten to be Wally for a bit first." I wish you'd gotten to be with me, just for a little while, however I could have you. He'd never felt a single moment of guilt for stealing Wally's time away from Kathleen, not after the bitch had proven unworthy of it.

  But there was no way he'd steal Wally's time from his kid. That meant he'd see less and less of Wally, between Wally being a father and his own time being eaten by the company. Funny, that he was right where he'd always wanted to be, two steps away from having an office that said Vice President in a company he'd helped make great. All he wanted, and he was fucking miserable.

  They were sitting side by side again, but it still felt like there was an ocean between them.

  Confess, part of him whispered. Have it all out, once and for all, and accept that it would either blow up in his face—or maybe, just maybe, it would close the growing gap between them. It made him sick just thinking about it. Once upon a time, he'd kept his mouth shut because he didn't dare lose a friend. Then Wally had gotten married, and he put those feelings away forever. Now that the wife was gone…dare he take them out again, and finally lay them bare?

  Antoine had no fucking clue what to do anymore. After this last fuck up, and the misery in which he'd mired himself, he didn't want to risk the rest of his life without Wally. A month and a half had been more than he could take. He drank more wine, mostly to keep from doing or saying something stupid.

  By the Way | 13

  "So are you going to take time from your busy schedule to show me around town?" Wally asked, a stifled sigh plain in his voice.

  "Of course," Antoine replied, his smile as strained as Wally's voice. "I need to take you out as much as I can, before you give up the nightlife for changing diapers and attending PTA meetings."

  Wally laughed, if weakly. "Then what, you vanish into the sunset to continue playing? I didn't come here just for you to tell me goodbye and give me a proper sendoff." He set his wine down with a hard clack.

  "If that's all you're going to do, then I'm taking the next flight out."

  "Isn't that why you came? Other than to tell me 'Happy Birthday, Asshole'? Four and a half months, Wally, and you won't have time for shit, least of—" He bit the words off.

  "We've been friends for fifteen fucking years, Antoine. Are you seriously saying that you think I'll ditch you just because I have a kid? Fuck you. That's sort of hilarious coming from Mr. VP of Amberton-Lord at thirty five. I'm not going to have time to go drinking and slumming? You're not going to have time for me at all. You're the one who'll be shaking hands and cocktail partying and jet-setting around the fucking world. I'll be at home, kicking back with a beer after my son is asleep, wondering where in the world you are this time and missing the days you bothered talking to me."

  "Yeah, and I just bet Mr. Settled would want anything to do with me and my flash-bang life." He fell silent after that, and they glared at each other, until Antoine ended the staring contest and sighed. He raked his hands through his hair, then upended his wine glass and drained its contents in one go.

  "That's no way to treat $5000.00," Wally said, horrified and amused.

  "Yeah, well, of late I seem to treat everything of value like shit," Antoine said sourly.

  "Not really. You just get stupid sometimes." Wally picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses. "Enjoy your wine, Antoine, and stop sulking. Mal's the only one who looks prettier when he's sulking. You only get prettier when you're being evil."

  Antoine smiled and took a proper sip of his wine this time. He looked up slowly as he replied, "We've been friends too long or something, man. We sound like an old married couple when we argue, a pity we don't get make up sex…" He drifted off at the fire that flashed through Wally's eyes before Wally dropped his gaze in an attempt to hide it.

  No. Fucking. Way. Antoine suspected his jaw was hanging open. "You—since when do you want me, Wally?"

  Wally swore loudly, and abruptly stood up, obviously trying to flee now that he was busted.

  "No way," Antoine muttered, and set his wine aside before half-diving, half-lunging for him—but it was only then that he realized just how much wine he'd had, and how much of a kick it delivered. They wound up on the floor, limbs tangled, and he didn't doubt they'd have bruises in the morning. "There is no goddamn way you want me. Since when?"

  14 | Megan Derr

  "I could ask you the same fucking thing," Wally replied. "You've never paid me two cents, player."

  "You were off limits!" Antoine bellowed, the words and their volume startling them both into momentary silence.

  Then Antoine just snapped. Stooping, he held Wally firmly in place and attacked his mouth. He was bruising their lips, and there was not a single thing nice about the kiss, but he didn't really give a fuck.

  This whole goddamn time—and if he was going to only ever get the one kiss, he'd sure as hell make certain Wally felt it for a day or so.

  At some point, he thought he tasted blood—and it was only then he realized Wally was kissing him back, and with the same careless rage. He drew back sharply, as though struck, and licked his lips. The taste of copper and a slight sting made him realize it was his lip which had split.

  "I'm going to slug you the minute you let me up," Wally said. "Fair warning."

  Antoine meant to g
ive an equally flat, hostile reply, but the situation drew out a perverse need to flirt.

  "So is that just your way of asking me to kiss you again, Wally?"

  Pain flashed across Wally's face. "Don't play me, Antoine. I'm not going to be demoted from friend to toy."

  That caused Antoine to frown, and with a mental 'fuck it' he said, "Wally, I didn't start out a player. It was never my scene, and I had no desire to make it my scene, until sophomore year. Right after Spring Break."

  "Right after…"

  Antoine could see the cogs turning, saw the moment when it clicked—when Wally realized that Antoine had turned player after Wally had proposed to Kathleen.

  "You son of a bitch!" Wally snarled, and then Antoine's world exploded in pain.