Cooper sat up and planted his feet on the floor, bending over with his elbows on his knees.
“If it’s important to him, you can do it.”
He pushed to his feet and stood, padding out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He took a tepid shower, his body still flushed from the fear of his dream and his hands a little shaky from the fall. Cooper went through the rest of his morning routine and called Robin as soon as he got to the bookstore. Cooper needed an opinion that didn’t belong to Adam’s best friend.
“I know we aren’t really hang-out friends, but can you come by for lunch?” he asked, and Robin obliged, promising to bring tacos and a to-go margarita because Cooper sounded like he needed it, he said.
The day went as slowly as it could, with Cooper dusting books and rearranging windows while debating calling the whole thing a day and going home. He needed to work out his stress somehow, and he figured taking a saw to some new blocks of wood so he could start sanding down some new paddles would be a good outlet. It was either that, or harass Adam into domming him after work. Which, while definitely something that could be managed, he wasn’t sure that was the best way to get out his feelings, either. He could edge himself, sort of like his own personal torture. But he wasn’t sure if he liked that one any more than the others. He felt lost and hopeless, unsure of what to do.
So halfway through the margarita Robin had bought him, he finally spilled the beans. “Adam wants to get married.”
Robin didn’t look surprised as he dragged a corn chip through a perfect mound of guacamole in one of the myriad to-go containers they’d arranged on top of the cash wrap.
“Okay,” Robin drawled, popping the chip into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “I know you all have history, but is it too soon?”
“Way too soon. Like, forever wouldn’t be long enough.”
Robin scrunched his nose, his delicate features crumpling under the strain. “I mean, I get it. But…”
“But what?”
“Of all the roadblocks I assumed the two of you would hit, this wasn’t one of them.”
“What does that mean?” Cooper bit into a taco, frowning. It was hard to frown with carne asada in his mouth, but he did it anyway.
“The switching, sure,” Robin said. “The flip fucking, maybe.”
“How did you know about either of those?” Cooper asked. As far as he knew, their friend group only knew Adam as a dominant.
“Grant talks when he’s tired,” Robin said. “Generally in confidence. I don’t go spreading it around, but it seems like relevant information to this conversation.”
That was fair, Cooper supposed. “There’s nothing wrong with either of those.”
“There used to be.” Robin smirked, and Cooper shoved the margarita straw into his mouth, taking a long swallow.
“There’s not now,” he said. “We see eye to eye on that.”
Cooper leaned back on the stool and stretched his back, cracking his neck and looking up at the ceiling.
“This is a bigger thing, though,” Robin said.
He nodded. “I didn’t mean to panic when it came up. But I kind of did. We talked through it, but I’m still edgy about it.”
“What about a long engagement? Are you opposed to engagement?”
“That seems avoidant,” Cooper said. He held his left hand in front of him and studied his fingers, rubbing his thumb over his ring finger with a frown.
“It’s a temporary solution,” Robin countered. “If you’re committed to him, how is a ring any different than a collar?”
“He doesn’t have one of those, either.”
“Well.” Robin picked up a taco. “Maybe he should.”
“What?”
Robin shrugged, those tight features on his face spread back into their normal cherubic placement.
Robin wasn’t wrong. In their circles, their friendships, a collar would mean the same or maybe more than a ring would. At least, to him it would. The trust he and Adam exchanged as part of their games was worth more than a tax break and a piece of paper. But he knew Adam felt different, and he had to come up with a way the two of them could meet in the middle. A little compromise where neither of them felt like they were losing.
