Susan nodded, and Ollie headed back into his office for a moment before joining her again. She showed him her data and explained that there was some abnormality in one of the controls that suggested potential contamination in one of the reagents they used for the assays. Ollie frowned as he looked over her data, and he had to agree with her assessment. They then made plans for Susan to repeat the assay with freshly preparedreagents, and Ollie headed back to his office to finish going over his other data in preparation for his meeting with John.
Three hundred ninety-four minutes later, Ollie let himself into Sam’s apartment—a modest studio apartment with a wall of huge floor-to-ceiling windows on the twenty-fifth floor of a high-rise building just a few blocks from Pike Place Fish Market in downtown Seattle. The air felt a little stale, and Ollie wondered when the last time Sam had been home was. Given that he’d been with Sam since late last Wednesday, unless Sam had stopped in before heading to work that day, it had probably been at least a week, if not more.
He flipped on the light switch just inside the door and then stepped in and shut the door behind him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the windows and the incredible view overlooking the Puget Sound. The sun was low in the sky, but still bright, and Ollie smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he moved closer to that far edge of the room.
He loved this view. A lot. And although he did really love living in Issaquah—it was peaceful, close to the lake and the running trails they loved, and close to his mom’s place—every time he came here, up to Sam’s apartment, he wondered whether maybe... he should move in here with Sam. Maybe they should live here, in Seattle, and he would be the one to commute instead of Sam.
But they hadn’t made any of those kinds of decisions yet. Officially moving in together... combining housing or finances or...
There was a knock on the door, and Ollie pulled himself out of his thoughts and jogged back to the entryway. After accepting the bag containing their dinner, Ollie thanked the deliveryman, closed the front door again, and then worked to get their dinner set up at the dining room table, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall.
At just about five minutes after six, the front door opened, and Ollie swung around, grinning, as his eyes met Sam’s. There was some emotion in Sam’s eyes that Ollie couldn’t quite place, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by relief and happiness and love. Sam smiled brightly, closed the door behind him, and then met Ollie halfway. Without any hesitation, Sam gathered Ollie up in his arms, and Ollie sighed as he stretched up to kiss his boyfriend. Tension he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying melted away, and he slid his hands up to the back of Sam’s neck and drew him in the last couple of inches.
Their lips met, and a strong surge of warmth coursed through him. Sam’s hands came to rest on his lower back, rubbing gentle circles as Sam deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing. Ollie moaned with pleasure, and Sam pulled back just a tiny bit, chuckling.
“Miss me?”
“Yes,” Ollie answered, and he quickly brought Sam back in for another kiss.
Sam seemed to hold back just a little, although his hands continued stroking up and down Ollie’s back, the touch making Ollie’s skin feel on fire. Ollie moaned again and broke the kiss, lowering his head to rest on Sam’s shoulder.
The gentle caress of Sam’s hands slowed and then stopped, and Ollie felt a light kiss press against the top of his head.
“Dinner was delivered?” Sam asked, his voice low and husky.
“Mmm, yeah,” Ollie replied. He knew their time was limited, and they should eat. But, just like that morning and then at lunch, he really didn’t have much of an appetite, and he’d really rather... just keep kissing Sam.
But even if Ollie wasn’t feeling hungry, Sam probably was.
He lifted his head off Sam’s shoulder and smiled up at his boyfriend. Sam’s eyes were clouded again, this time with desire, and he dipped down to kiss Ollie one more time before groaning and pulling back.
“We should eat,” Sam said, and Ollie nodded.
Silently, Ollie slipped his hand into Sam’s, and they made their way across the small apartment to the dining room table, where Ollie had set out dinner. However, rather than sit, Sam paused and glanced out toward the sunset, which was just starting to turn the sky a faint orange. Ollie stopped next to him, leaned against Sam’s shoulder, and sighed.
“We should... sit on the couch instead of at the table,” Sam suggested quietly, letting go of Ollie’s hand and looping his arm around Ollie’s shoulders.
Ollie agreed, and within a few minutes, they had moved all the food to the coffee table. They settled on the couch, close enough that their knees bumped together, and Ollie started telling Sam about his day while they ate—well, while Sam ate and Ollie pretended to eat.
He hadn’t ordered much, and his stomach felt empty. But the desire to eat just wasn’t there, and if he forced bigger bites, the nausea came. He still tried. Partly because he knew Sam was noticing and partly because he himself was a little worried. It felt like one of those things that could easily become a sort of negative spiral—the nausea and lack of appetite feeding into his anxiety, compounding and making everything worse and worse. So he took small bites, and he tried to pretend like it was fine as he distracted himself with their conversation.
Sam quickly polished off his black bean burger and settled back into the couch cushions, wrapping his arm around Ollie’s shoulders. And Ollie fell silent as he stared with disinterest at the bowl of soup in his hands for another moment. It was even his favorite—a corn and green chile soup with quesoand fresh cilantro. Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he leaned forward and set the mostly full bowl down on the coffee table and then rested back against Sam, closing his eyes and letting his head settle on Sam’s shoulder.
“Not hungry, love?” Sam asked.
Part of him didn’t want to answer, because he didn’t want to lie. But he also really didn’t want to tell the truth.
Sam seemed to sense his hesitation. “Oll, I... need to know. Please don’t... shut me out, love.”
He screwed his eyes shut tighter and sucked in a short breath, his shoulders tensing. And even as Ollie felt Sam tighten his arm around Ollie’s shoulders and kiss the top of his head, reminding him where he was and why he was safe and fine and everything was okay, a cold chill suddenly settled in him. It took everything he had to not pull away. God, he hated feeling like this.
“S-sorry. S-sorry, Sam. I . . .”
“Did you eat anything today?” Sam asked slowly. “Did you have anything to drink?”
“Does four cups of coffee count?” He tried for a lighter tone, tried to ignore the dizziness and nausea, even tried to laugh a little.
“Oll . . .”
