Charlie:As if I would do that to you. Come on.
Me:You scared the fuck out of the last date of mine you met.
Charlie:Not my fault that guy was freaked out by my wearing six-inch stilettosandbeing able to talk in a baritone when I want. You’re definitely better off without that one.
I cracked a smile at that. Yeah, that guy had been too weirded out by my having a trans sister to be worth my time. Charlie had probably saved me a lot of time and effort on that one.
Me:Yeah, fair. But Charlie…I really like this one. Please don’t fuck it up for me.
Charlie:Oh, hon. I wouldn’t. I just want to help.
A noise came from the bedroom, and I paused my typing as I listened, trying to identify what I’d heard. It came again, more clearly this time: a deep groan. Either Hen was enjoying himself a little too much, or he was having a bad dream.
Me:gg, I think Hen’s having a nightmare.
Charlie:Wait, why is he asleep in the middle of the workday? And why are you with him in the middle ofyourworkday?
Me:Sick day. I’ll explain later. Ttyl.
I pocketed my phone and stood up. If Hen was going to be having nightmares, I wouldn’t leave him to have them alone.
In the bedroom, I found him on his side, twisted up in the blankets, with one hand hanging out of the cocoon he’d made for himself. That hand was flexing and relaxing repeatedly as he groaned and moaned through what appeared to be a most unpleasant dream.
Without hesitation, I climbed onto the bed, wrapping myself around Hen’s larger form. “You’re okay, baby,” I whispered, taking hold of his free hand and urging it back to the surface of the bed. I gently slipped my finger between his and gave a squeeze. “It’s a dream.”
Hen stiffened for a long moment, and then his eyes fluttered open. “Jamie?”
I loved hearing him call me by my nickname. It gave me warm fuzzies. “Hey.” I leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You were having a bad dream, I think.”
He sighed groggily. “Yeah.” His eyes drifted closed again. “Scary. You were sick.”
“Oh, honey.” I squeezed his hand comfortingly, but it had already gone lax again in mine as he drifted off again. That Xanax was no joke. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his cheek. And I was: sorry that he’d ever been put in the position of having to worry about HIV transmission, sorry that he had gotten the ‘positive’ yesterday, sorry that it was hurting him so badly. And sorry that I couldn’t give him the ‘all clear’ in relation to myself so that he could take at least one worry off his plate.
I didn’t make a habit of recriminating myself for what had happened - it involved both of us making poor decisions, but it had also led to us getting together, and honestly, mistakes were part of the human condition - but in this moment, I hated myself for letting it happen. I could have saved Hen all this fearand grief if I’d just paid a little more attention while drunk and horny.
I sighed. As Charlie had reminded me, there was literally nothing that beating myself up now could do about what happened then. I might as well make use of the rest of her advice and try to distract myself. It would be nice to do that by napping with Hen, but I knew my brain well enough to know that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, so with another sigh, I carefully eased out of the bed and stood up. I’d see if I could sink into work for a while while Hen slept the sleep of the drugged.
***
A few hours later, I was putting the finishing touches on my latest community consultation draft text when I heard footsteps in the bedroom. I put my laptop to the side and twisted on the couch to watch Hen as he padded out into the living room, eyes still at half-mast and t-shirt twisted up around his stomach. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure he was awake, walking or not. “Hey,” I ventured.
He pulled up short and blinked in my direction. “Oh, uh, hey.” He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, untwisting it so it fell to cover him again. “I didn’t think you’d be…” He shrugged.
“Here?” I finished for him. “I told you I wasn’t going to go. You’re kinda stuck with me.” I offered him my best cheery smile. “Whether you like it or not.”
He continued to stand there, blinking owlishly.Fucking Xanax, I mused. It probably hadn’t worn off, which meant he was floating and in no shape for any kind of serious conversation. I held out a hand to him, beckoning. “Come on and sit down before you keel over.”
It took him another few blinks to process that, and then he walked the rest of the way into the room and crossed to whereI was sitting on the couch. Carefully, he lowered himself to the cushions. “You didn’t have to stay. I’m gonna be a zombie until this pill wears off, anyway. I know you have work.”
I waggled my laptop where it was balanced on my legs. “And I’m doing the work. Laptops are great. I’m pretty much done for the day now, though, which means you’re stuck with me.”
He yawned, then slapped a hand over his mouth and blushed. I gave him a smirk. “Ah, so that’s the effect I have on you? Tsk.”
His head drifted to my shoulder in a movement that looked almost involuntary, and he burrowed his face into my neck and took a deep breath, then let it out in a cloud of moisture against my skin. I shivered at the sensation. It wasn’t sexual at this moment, but it was…a feeling of connection.
“You have lots of effects on me,” he mumbled into the crook of my shoulder. “I like them. But you still don’t have to stay…”
“Ah-ah,” I cut him off, slipping my hand into his hair and trying to untangle one particularly sleep-snarled strand. “Stop protesting and relax. I’m here and I’m staying here. I’ll even make sure you eat lunch, now that you’re awake. Ish,” I tacked on as he yawned again.
