“The thing with them crawling on you is new.”
Sometimes a little too good.
“Yeah.” Andi stared back at his plate, rearranging the chunks of cheese around the rice.
“Andi.”
He looked up. George’s face was tense, the silverfish restless.
“It’s new, and I don’t know how it’s happening or even why. Happy?” He hadn’t meant to be so snappish. It was just too much to process: the case, their trouble with the chief, adjusting to Geena.
“I’m sorry. I know you talk about things when you’re ready. It’s just—” George made a frustrated arch with his fork.
Andi huffed. “Youhave nothing to be sorry for, George. You’re perfect. It’s not your fault that Chief Norris is an asshole. It’s not your fault I was born this way. It’s not your fault thegeschenkis getting out of control.” He looked at his partner. “I’m just so tired, and I don’t want to talk about it, because then I have to think about it, and then I would have to admit that whatever is happening at the moment is way beyond what I’m able to handle.” It hurt, having to admit his weakness. At the same time, it was freeing. He had never before been able to be open with somebody. Even knowing George would never be able to fully grasp what was going on with Andi, it still felt good to be seen. And his partner didn’t disappoint. George shoved his plate aside to reach over the breakfast counter for Andi’s hand. He took it, squeezing hard.
“You’re not alone. Whatever this is, no matter what comes, how bad it gets, I swear to you, I’ll be there.”
Andi wanted to believe him so much, his chest hurt. A tiny voice at the back of his head still insisted that George would leave him, that he wouldn’t stay. At this moment, Andi was too tired to listen to it.
“Thank you. Can we just sit on the couch?”
“Of course. Why don’t you go there and get comfortable while I clean up here? Do you want hot chocolate?”
“I should clean. You cooked.”
“And normally I would insist on my right as chef to not be bothered with the menial tasks.” George grinned. “But I can’t make you work in good conscience when the circles under your eyes should have their own address.”
“Charming. I’ll take the hot chocolate. See you on the couch.”
“Find some game, will you?”
Andi lifted his hand to show he understood. George loved his baseball, basketball, and ice hockey. Football did in a pinch. His favorite were college games, and one of those was always on one of the sports channels. Andi didn’t have to look long until he found a college hockey match that had just started. He let it play, waiting for George to bring the hot chocolate.
His partner entered the living room the moment six of the players on TV formed a lump of limbs and sticks. Andi could practically feel the testosterone seeping from the screen.
“Oh cool, hockey. And it’s live.” George sat down, gave Andi a mug with steaming chocolate goodness, and put his own on the coffee table while he grabbed the thick quilt he had brought over from his home and arranged it over their feet. Then he took his own hot chocolate, leaned back against the couch with a sigh, and concentrated on the game.
Andi sipped his chocolate, not really paying attention to what was happening on TV. He had never understood the appeal of team sports, or any sport really. Team sports required an amount of social interaction he was sure he wouldn’t have been comfortable with even if he hadn’t had to deal with thegeschenk. Not to mention all the posturing he thought was tedious. Sitting next to George, listening to his heartbeat through the legs of the various spiders on the ceiling and at the windows was soothing. Even though he was receiving input from his tiny housemates, he was content, mostly because a great deal of the input was about George. To his own surprise, Andi found it not only easy but also natural to simply focus on the man sitting next to him.
Whump, whump, whump, so steady, strong, never wavering, his scent, a delicious combination of sweet and sour, indicating he was healthy, the blood good, his body warmth enticing, promising safety, the electric field surrounding him like a spring, pulsing outward, swirling gently, peacefully, his body chemistry a kaleidoscope of colors, whirling around in a perfect pattern, everything balanced, his breathing soft and cadenced, warm, inviting, a place to rest, to fall into, to lose himself to, a place where he could existwiththem, where the pictures he got weren’t tainted by human depravity, his own Garden of Eden in a man he’d known for barely a year, and yet he gravitated toward him, like moths to a flame, because he needed to, because if he didn’t, he would be lost, he could feel everything dragging him down, pulling on his sanity, his humanity, he couldn’t go, not yet, he didn’t want to, George was here, holding him, so warm, so soft and hard at once, so perfect to rest.
Andi woke with a start, not knowing what was going on. The arthropods were quiet, not sleeping, never sleeping, something was always scrambling around, the TV was off, the only light coming from the small lamp next to the couch. He heard a low chuckle.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to get a bit more comfortable.”
Andi took stock of his body. His head was close to something solid, George’s chest, no doubt, his hands resting on his partner’s thighs. His feet were up on the couch, and George’s hand was at his back, stroking him in a soothing rhythm.
“What time is it?”
George looked at his wristwatch. “Quarter past ten. Time for bed?”
“It seems I already was in bed, so to speak.”
“You slept soundly through one of the best games I’ve seen in a while.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. We both needed some downtime. Let’s get you to bed.”
