Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.
Through a sheer effort of will, he managed to wrench his eyes open and found himself gazing up at the ceiling of a darkened room. His bedroom. Fully clothed still, he lay on the top of his bed with Tiger sitting on his chest, staring at him. This time he could have sworn the buzzing sound came from nearby, from somewhere in the room. Tiger jumped off and ran out of the bedroom. Finally he managed to raise his head, slip on his glasses, and squint at the clock next to the bed.
Five-past-four in the morning.
Heart pounding and gasping for breath, he sat up and listened carefully. Had someone been ringing his intercom, because the persistence seemed reminiscent of something Darcy might do? Clambering out of bed, he hurried to the intercom and pressed the button, but on the video display, the space directly outside his front door was empty. Had he missed the person? Or had the buzzing been a part of his dreams? Either way, he needed to know.
Quickly shrugging on his padded coat and carpet slippers, he clambered down the stairs and yanked open the front door. Turning a full one-eighty in the doorway, he scanned the road outside.
Empty and deserted. Four in the frosty morning and not a creature stirred. He was about to turn around and head back indoors when a sound caught his attention.
“Spencer! Spence!”
Was he dreaming still? Because the voice calling out sounded familiar. And suddenly there he was, tall and impossiblycomposed, unfolding beneath the streetlight from the driver’s seat of a parked car Spencer hadn’t noticed. Wrapped warmly against the frosty morning, he strode towards Spencer while yanking off a black woollen hat. No crutches, both arms and legs working, no visible bandaging—all the terrible things Spencer had imagined, the worst being losing him forever—had not happened. Marshall was alive and well and whole and unharmed.
Halfway to him, the expression on Marshall’s face morphed into a broad smile as heartwarming as a sunrise.
And by that one simple act, smiling that beautiful smile, Spencer came unglued. Stood inside the entrance, his legs gave way from under him and he collapsed to his knees, his eyes flooding. He wanted to pray to any and every god that would hear him, to thank them for being there, for listening and answering. Only peripherally, through blurred vision, did he notice the figure begin rushing towards him, to scoop him up and pull him into a fierce embrace he never wanted to end. Without conscious thought, he clung on for dear life, arms and legs wrapping around his lover, a death grip that nothing could ever shake.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” came the warm voice. “My phone got wrecked and then it got too late—”
From deep inside of Spencer, a sobbing started up, his body shaking uncontrollably. In response, Marshall tightened his grip around him.
“I thought—thought I’d lost you. I had a nightmare—that I’d never see you again.”
“Hey, hey. I’m here now, baby.”
Spencer cried unashamedly, all the pent-up emotions of the past day finding release.
“And I never got the chance to tell you I love you. I love you so much, Marshall.”
Marshall chuckled at that and nuzzled his nose into Spencer’s ear.
“I know you do, Spence. I love you, too. Come on, let’s get you upstairs. I think we both need a hot drink. And I have some explaining to do.”
Tiger sat regally in the doorway at the top of the stairs, looking smug and steadfastly blocking their way. Marshall stepped carefully over her and carried Spencer into the flat. Once he had ushered Tiger in and used Spencer’s back to close the door behind them, he kissed Spencer deeply, a long lingering kiss that finally soothed away the undercurrent of dread that had filled Spencer.
Back on his feet, Spencer led Marshall over to the couch and made him remove his jacket and sit down. Keeping busy felt necessary, and Spencer started by preparing to make hot drinks.
“Have you slept at all?” he asked.
When he looked around, Tiger had already burrowed herself into Marshall’s lap, pushing her head into his hand, purring loudly, demanding to be petted. Spencer could hardly blame her. Everyone had missed him.
“A little. On the plane. Someone laid on a private jet to fly us home.”
Spencer pulled out two mugs and measured out teaspoons of instant coffee. No fancy coffee machines in his flat, but Marshall knew that.
“You must be exhausted.”
“Funnily enough I was, but not now. After I stopped ringing your buzzer, I went back to the car, to wait until later when you might be awake. Darcy told me you were home. We really need to do something about this offline status of yours, Spence.”
“I know, I know. Totally agree. I’m so sorry—”
“Having said that, being offline has had its advantages. It wasn’t that long ago your flat felt like the safest place on the planet. Just you and me and nobody to touch us.”
“And Tiger.”
Marshall grinned down at the cat curled in his lap.
