by Abigail Roux
deep in thought.
Vic licked his lips, tasting the salt again, and he held his
breath, waiting for something. Anything.
As Vic watched him, Shane raised his head and took a
deep breath. Vic continued to stare at him intently as he
turned around and finally met Vic’s eyes.
He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. Vic
almost leapt out of his skin when the metallic tingling of one of
their cell phones broke the tense silence. It was Vic’s phone,
but he stood there staring at Shane, waiting for him to speak
instead of going to answer it.
“You should get that,” Shane said softly as he turned to
reach beneath the sink and retrieve a dish towel.
Vic stood stock-still for several more moments, listening to
the phone ring and wishing to God that Shane would say
something else.
“Might be important, Vic,” the other man finally added as
he came back around the counter with two rags to clean up the
spilled beer.
Vic nodded wordlessly and walked dazedly into the
bedroom to find his phone, giving Shane one last look over his
shoulder. He rarely used the phone for personal business and
not many people outside the firm had the number, so when
Shane said that it might be important he was probably right.
It had better be important, to have interrupted what Shane
was about to say.
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When Vic got off the phone with his secretary and came back
out into the main room, Shane was nowhere to be found. The
beer spill had been cleaned up and the towels were now lying
in a little pile on the counter. The sliding door that led outside
was closed, and so was the door to the other bedroom.
“Shane?” Vic called softly, almost afraid to find the other
man. He had barely been able to concentrate on what Sophia
was saying to him he had been so distracted with worry over
what effect his and Shane’s reckless actions were going to have
on their friendship. The rest of their relaxing vacation might
just be shot to shit.
Unless they could clear the air and get a lot of beer into
both their systems very quickly. Or proceed along the path
they’d set out. Vic wasn’t sure which one he preferred.
“Shane?” he called again.
He knocked lightly on the bedroom door, not able to
remember whether it had been opened or closed before. When
he got no answer, he opened the door carefully to peer inside.
The room was empty, and Vic pulled the door closed again
before going to stand in front of the glass door. Shane sat out
there in one of the large wooden chairs, unmoving as he sat
with a beer in his hand, staring out at the dark water of the
eerily calm ocean.
Vic slid the door open and was met with the sound of the
waves and the scent of the sea and the blast of heat off the
sand as he stepped onto the deck. His eyes never left Shane as
he slid the door closed behind him and walked forward slowly.
How did one go about doing this anyway? Perhaps it would
be easier if Vic had ever had any inkling that Shane was
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attracted to him. Yes, that might have made it easier, if he had
known that their relationship had the possibility to turn this
way. He’d been completely unprepared for this, completely
unlike when the situation with Owen had formed.
Vic realized with a little jolt as he came up behind Shane
that that was the first time Owen had crossed his mind as
anything but a fond memory since early that morning, when
Shane’s words had brought the younger man to mind.
“No one in his right mind would leave someone like you
alone when you needed him,” Shane had said.
Looking back on it, it sounded quite a lot like something
Vic would have said to Owen, straddling the line between
friendship and love. Was that how Shane felt about him?
How many signs similar to that could Vic have possibly
missed while lost in his own lovesick haze?
“You okay?” Vic asked softly as he stood beside Shane’s
chair and put his hands on his hips, looking out at the ocean
rather than down at his friend.
“I’m a bit of a bastard, aren’t I?” Shane said with a finality
that told Vic he’d come to that conclusion some time ago.
“Why do you say that?” Vic asked, his tone certainly more
calm than he felt.
“I know you love him, Vic. And still I….” He pressed his
lips together and shook his head as if disgusted with himself.
“I’m not much of a friend to you, at any rate.”
“What… what are you talking about?” Vic asked
incredulously as he came around and stood in front of Shane,
looking down at him as he cast a shadow over him.
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Shane looked up at him blankly, and Vic knelt so that he
was resting his forearms on Shane’s thighs and looking up at
him.
“Shane, you’re the best friend I think I’ve ever had.
Certainly the only man I’d climb up mountains of sand with,”
he added with a small smile, hoping to cheer Shane up by
making light of their time together.
Shane smiled sadly at him and looked down at his hands,
and Vic realized then just what Shane had said.
“You know… you don’t have to worry about Owen, right?”
he asked tentatively.
“Any other men you’re hopelessly in love with?” Shane
asked wryly.
“I think the key word there is hopeless,” Vic murmured as
he fell back with a grunt and sat on the warm wood of the
deck. He looked down at his own hands and sighed. He’d
convinced himself that it was the best thing to do, breaking off
anything but his friendship with Owen, and he was still sure of
that decision. It didn’t make the melancholy of loss any easier
to deal with, though.
“He’s a fool,” Shane said bitterly.
Vic’s head shot up to look at him in shock. He had never
heard Shane say anything even remotely negative about Owen
in the five years they had all known one another. He’d never
heard him say anything negative about almost anyone, and he
sat for criminal cases every day.
“He’s a fucking fool for what he does,” Shane declared. “If
he doesn’t know you love him, then… then he’s a fool. And if he
does, then he’s a bastard,” he told Vic decisively.
Vic leaned back to look up at Shane as if seeing him for
the first time. Where was this bitterness coming from? Vic had
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harbored thoughts along similar lines, but he knew why he was
bitter.
Was it really possible that Shane had feelings for him that
went beyond the physical? Was it possible that all these years
Shane had been stoically silent about how Vic and Owen
carried on, all the while being in love with him?
“Something you need to tell me?” Vic asked suspiciously,
thinking back
on Shane’s words and wondering if he really
wanted to hear what Shane had to say.
Shane blinked at him once and then sighed heavily. “No,”
he said stubbornly.
Vic frowned disbelievingly, but then nodded slowly and
sighed as well. “Okay then,” he said softly. “What now, huh?”
he asked as he stretched out on the deck and circled his knees
with his arms, choosing to drop all the uncomfortable subjects
and offer Shane the out he had been unwilling to offer before.
“Hot tub, beach, or beer?”
Shane looked at him warily for several moments, obviously
thinking that there was a trick and that Vic was going to come
back with another question any second. After a moment of
deliberation, he gave Vic a small smile and said, “Any
combination including the latter will do me fine.”
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V
Vic and Shane were lucky in that not only were they both
exceptionally blessed in the art of holding their alcohol, but
also in that they forgot and forgave easily. By nightfall their
passionate embrace of the afternoon was yet another laughing
matter, and they sat giggling together at the edge of the back
deck as they passed a bottle of beer back and forth. It was their
last one, hence the sharing, and they would have to go out in
the morning for more.
“Shows you how desperate I am,” Shane slurred as he took
the bottle from Vic and took a short gulp. “Drinking beer-
flavored backwash.”
“Yes, but you didn’t seem to mind the slobber when your
tongue was exploring my tonsils,” Vic replied as the bottle was
handed back to him.
“Yeah but… you still have your tonsils?”
“No, actually, now that you mention it. Figure of speech,
really. Descriptive prose and… uhh….”
“Right, right. What were we talking about?”
“Umm….”
Tonight, though, tonight they were far too gone to care
that their supply had run dry. The night sky was dark, the low
clouds covering the moon and stars, and the only hint of the
overwhelming ocean before them was the sound it made as it
reached its waves toward them and the phosphorescent glow of
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the waves. All in all, it was a wonderful night, the silences once
more comfortable despite the strange events of the day, and Vic
closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sea spray.
“It’s nice to sit here like this,” Shane said suddenly.
“I know,” Vic agreed appreciatively. “I meant what I said
before,” he said, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed the sound
and the smell of his surroundings. “You’re a good friend,
Shane. Great friend.”
“And you’re drunk,” Shane snickered, making Vic grin and
scrunch his nose up happily as he giggled again.
Anyone else, and Vic would have been uncomfortable with
this. If it had been anyone else he had come here with, he
would have been uneasy about the sudden change to the
relationship. But not Shane. Shane was steady and constant,
and even though there was a little lingering tension over the
kiss they had shared, they weren’t allowing it to change
anything. Not tonight, anyway. Perhaps the copious amounts of
beer had helped.
“You about ready to turn in?” Shane asked in a slightly
slurring voice.
“Mmhmm. You still gonna protect me from the bad
dreams?” Vic asked with a lazy smile as he finally opened his
eyes and looked over at Shane. His sore muscles prayed that
Shane would still let him share the good mattress.
Shane snorted and nodded his head, groaning as he hefted
himself to his feet and swayed precariously on the edge of the
deck. “Whoa,” he said with a snicker as he wheeled his right
arm through the air in a desperate vie for balance. “Long way
down from up here,” he remarked of the roughly eight-inch fall
after he had steadied himself. It probably did look pretty far
when you were as wasted as they were.
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Instead of risking toppling over and having to sleep in the
sand where he landed, Vic flopped onto his back and just
rolled, wallowing on the ground while Shane giggled above him,
until he was away from the edge of the deck and could crawl to
the relative safety of the sliding glass doors.
“You sure you don’t mind sharing?” he asked as he let his
head hang and crawled forward a little.
“C’mon, Vic,” Shane huffed as he took Vic’s arm and
pulled him to his feet clumsily. “Get your ass in gear. M’tired.”
“Me too,” Vic said contentedly, letting his head rest on
Shane’s shoulder as they walked arm in arm toward the
bedroom. “I call right side,” he crooned happily.
“Damn it.”
Vic had foregone the melatonin pills in favor of alcohol, but
still his dreams that night were vivid. They weren’t, however, all
bad. He knew he was dreaming, because even as he lived
through his dreams he could always tell that they weren’t real.
There was just something about them, some quality to them
that allowed a part of his mind to sit back and say something
like, “This would make an interesting anecdote in the morning”
or simply ask “What the hell did I eat tonight?”
These dreams, though, Vic knew very well what had
provoked them. It was amazing how something as simple as a
kiss, no matter how heated or memorable it had been, could
translate into dreaming that Shane was inside him, thrusting
with slow, languid strokes. Tasting his lips again as he pushed
into him over and over, hearing his low moans.
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When Vic awoke from the dream in the middle of the night,
he was fairly panting for breath, and Shane shifted next to him
in bed and raised his head. “You okay?” he asked roughly,
obviously having been disturbed from sleep.
“Yeah,” Vic breathed as he lay completely still, clutching
the sheet to him uncomfortably and staring up at the ceiling.
“Another nightmare?” Shane asked groggily as he rolled
onto his side and placed his hand over Vic’s chest comfortingly.
“Jesus, Vic, your heart’s pounding,” he murmured as he
seemed to shake the remainder of sleep away and become a
little worried.
Should Vic lie and say that it had been another bad dream
that was leaving him breathless and making his heart try to
leap from his chest? Vic knew he couldn’t tell Shane the truth.
They had just barely shaken off the awkwardness of their
earlier contact. Telling the other man he was now having erotic
dreams about him would not aid in their recovery.
“Guess so,” he murmured, not able to actually lie and
imply that the dreams of touching Shane so intimately had
been bad ones.
Shane hummed a little and patted Vic’s chest like he
would a dog for behaving, and then his fingers rubbed almost
unconsciously over the thin material of Vic’s T-shirt before his
hand stopped moving and he scooted closer to Vic’s body. Vic
knew Shane was doing the same thing he had the night before,
thinking that Vic was suffering from nightmares and simply
offering the comfort of having another body next to him. But
tonight the contact was most unwelcome. Or rather, too
welcome.
Vic felt himself respond to the warmth of Shane’s body and
the familiar, comforting smell of the other man. Even beneath
the salty scent of the ocean and the sweet smell of the tanning
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lotion that still clung to them both, Vic could smell Shane. He
had never been able to pinpoint the smell. It was part classy,
expensive cologne, part shampoo and shaving crème and
deodorant, part smoke and something earthy that Vic was
innately drawn to and had yet to identify.
Before, the smell had always been comforting to Vic; the
scent of friendship and camaraderie and solace. Now, though,
now the scent was reinforced with the memory of taste. The
taste of lingering saltwater and beer, of cherry-flavored lip balm
infused with sunscreen bought from the grocery store down the
road, and that same indefinable smoke-and-earth taste that
had made Vic desperately need more. Now, the smell reminded
Vic of that taste. Now, Shane smelled not like a friend, but like
the most amazing kiss Vic could remember having.
“It’s okay,” Shane murmured as he slid his arm beneath
Vic’s neck and let his hand close over Vic’s right shoulder as he
pulled himself closer. “Bigfoot back tonight?” he asked with a
sleepy smile as he turned his head and rested his cheek
against Vic’s left shoulder and let his free arm drift down until
it was draped across Vic’s waist.
Vic was holding his breath, trying to convince himself that
it was not a good idea to turn his head just a tiny bit and press
his lips to the top of Shane’s head.
“No,” he answered softly, barely breathing as Shane’s body
relaxed into his. Vic desperately wanted to touch the other