ELEVEN
It had been crossing all sorts of lines for Brett, not just those of friendship but also those of professionalism. He had never done anything so completely inappropriate with anyone he had been working on, and yet, it was really hard to regret it.
When they uncoupled, and when the condom was dealt with, John turned over and swept Brett into his warm, strong arms, pulling him against his broad chest and clinging to him in a way that Brett would never have expected.
Apparently, his stoic best friend, the man who liked to act like he could do everything on his own, who, in fact, turned down the help that people did want to give him, was quite the cuddler after sex.
Not that Brett was complaining. He curled up with him, his head on John’s chest, listening to the steady thudding rhythm of his pulse as it gradually slowed. The sweat started to dry from their bodies, and it was like that, tangled up with each other, that they drifted off to sleep.
The whole thing had happened so naturally. It had been perfect. If Brett had planned out his first time, he wouldn’t have done it any differently than it had happened. And now, after the fact, as he woke up in John’s arms, Brett knew that he wouldn’t change a thing.
Though things would be weird now, right? What was their relationship? Were they friends, or did the sex mean that they were something more? Brett didn’t know, but what he did know was that it was snowing outside, and that brightened the light which came in through the window to bathe John’s sleeping face.
As close as he was, it was easy to see how time had ravaged that face. No, not just time, because Brett wasn’t that much younger than John. Time, and stress, and pain. But relaxed from their sex, and completely fast asleep, a lot of those lines relaxed and Brett would do anything, anything that he possibly could, to keep those lines of pain from coming back to his best friend’s face.
If only John would let him.
“I love you,” he told the other man, not really expecting any sort of response back. John was asleep, which was why Brett was brave enough to tell him. He knew that John would laugh, or get deeply uncomfortable if Brett said the words out loud, but now was the perfect chance.
To his surprise, John smiled, like part of him did hear. And, even better, like that part of him didn’t mind the words. Maybe even liked them. Was it possible, Brett wondered, that this man craved that sort of connection as much as Brett did?
Not that it was going to be a good idea for him to get his hopes up.
Still, he pressed his lips against the sleeping man’s forehead, and then heard the buzz of his phone, in his discarded pants from the night before. Where had those ended up, again? Brett crawled from the bed and followed the sound, finally snagging it and answering it as quietly as he could, sitting on the floor.
“Hello?”
It was his boss, of course. Who else called him?
“Brett. Come in. Sidney called in sick, and you have to cover for her.”
The old Brett, the one that hadn’t been brave enough to sleep with his best friend, the one who had barely even allowed himself to admit that he wanted to, would have just gone. But he couldn’t help but remember what John had said before. About how they were taking advantage of him. About how Brett deserved better, could find better.
Of course, old habits didn’t change overnight, but Brett did, at least, do something other than just assure his boss that he would be in right away. That was a big step for him.
“It’s my day off, and I haven’t had a day off in over two weeks,” Brett protested. There was a silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Brett thought that his boss had already hung up, at least until he heard the voice, the surprised tone.
“There’s no one else. It’s a busy season. You need to be a team player, here,” came the callous reply back. “You know that Sidney would cover for you if you were sick.”
Which might have been a fair point, except that Sidney wouldn’t. In fact, she was a lot of the reason why Brett had to come in so much since she basically just came to work only when she wanted to. Not to mention, Brett had never called in sick, not in the whole time he had worked there.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.” His gaze went to John, who was starting to stir on the bed, and he took courage from the sight. He didn’t have to go in. He didn’t have to work all of this overtime. It was his choice to make, and the idea was strange and new to him, but he could almost hear John’s voice, his indignant tone, as he said it.
“That’s too bad. We’ll probably lose the clients who are booked to come in,” his boss said, and it was a low blow, deliberately used. Brett could see it all too clearly. He could stand up against Sidney, and he could stand up against his boss, but he couldn’t deal with the fact of people in pain because he was too lazy to work, even if it was his day off.
So even knowing it was deliberate, even knowing that he was being manipulated, it worked. He sighed and hung up, but he knew that his boss would know what that meant. Once more, Brett was coming to the rescue.
He started to get dressed, to push his unwilling, exhausted body into his work clothes when he felt a set of eyes on him. He was pretty sure that he could actually feel them judging him and worse than that, he knew that he deserved it.
“Come on, Brett,” came that sleepy, deep, rough voice, the one which, even now, as defeated as Brett felt, sent shivers racing madly down Brett’s spine. Knowing it was a bad idea, he still turned and looked at him, at John, wrapped up in Brett’s sheets and still disheveled from his touch.
“I can’t,” Brett whispered, though he wanted to. The desire clawed through him, an almost physical force that felt like it was tugging him, subtly but irresistibly, toward John. Delicious images of the night before, of their first time, raced through him, and that pull got stronger than ever.
“Brett,” John’s voice had turned coaxing, wheedling, and his gaze was deeply seductive, as though he could see Brett’s thoughts and approved. “You don’t have to go, right? You didn’t even say that you would. Come back to bed.”
“They’ll fire me,” Brett replied, and he wasn’t even sure if it were true or not. He knew people who had done a lot worse than just not come when they were called into work, and they hadn’t been fired, but he had the sense that he would be different. And what would he do without a job?
“Good. Or, better yet, you can quit.” John reached out, rolling over the bed so that his stocky body got even more tangled up in the sheets. “Just call in, beautiful, tell your asshole boss that you’re done being used and then come back to bed and kiss me.”
