This is Not Happening
Dan was the last person to actually speak to Erudite Publishing. Even Lenore spoke to them first, posing as his literary agent. Lenore had offered many times to help Dan get a book published, but it wasn't worth the inevitable awkwardness. Dan did not take criticism especially well, and had no capacity to separate himself from his work. The first time Lenore suggested a change, he'd end up blind drunk and hiding under a couch.
His first call to Erudite Publishing was to arrange for his advance. When he heard the final amount, he felt dizzy. Dan was going to be able to bathe in money. He could stuff a mattress with pound notes and sleep on it. He'd know he was poor again when his back started to get sore.
He'd shared a celebratory bottle of champagne with Mars, and then another. Then Mars sent her assistant out for more bottles. By the time he staggered over to Sasha, Dan was feeling invincible. Of course he could write a book. His head was full of ideas, and people inexplicably cared about what he had to say. People were always taking him seriously, no matter what he did. Even the fact that 15Peter20 had taken a photo of him pissing against a wall hadn't devalued Dan's opinion. People thought it was ironic, or a sign that Dan was going to take his self-destructiveness to its logical conclusion. He had always seemed destined for a horrific death.
"What have you done, Sasha?" he cried. "You're going to make something of me after all."
Sasha held out her arms for a hug. Dan held her and smelled her pleasant, girly scent. She was soft and small, and very beautiful. He wasn't sure who kissed who first, but he knew Sasha was engaged to a very practical and mature man who was sure to be a good father and role model to her kids. A man who could be allowed to stay until the morning, instead of being kicked out by four am.
"Sasha?"
"No talking," Sasha ordered. "This is not happening."
For a moment, Dan thought she meant they were going to stop, but she was undoing his trousers. The signals were mixed.
It had been two years since they'd shared more than a friendly hug, but it felt easy and natural to run his hand up Sasha's short skirt. She was more than ready for him, and the wet heat of her body made Dan feel invincible. There was nothing like the combination of success, booze, and a willing woman to make Dan Ashcroft feel like - for a few moments in time - he knew what the fuck he was doing with his life. Sasha had condoms at the ready, because she was not the kind of girl to have crazy, drunken, possibly life-ruining sex on a desk without being prepared.
When he thought about how Jones would react, whether with fury or indifference, Dan felt like a bystander. He had never been able to imagine a scenario in which he wouldn't lose Jones. It had always been a matter of time until he alienated the one person who truly accepted him. After two years of wondering, Dan Ashcroft finally knew how he was going to fuck up his first relationship. It would be with a woman who would never consider him as a serious partner, and wouldn't introduce him to her kids. He would again be Sasha's dirty little secret. It was a role that Dan was born to play.
xxx
"I fucked Sasha on my desk. We were both drunk and it happened."
Dan was in a battle stance, clearly prepared for an attack. Jones had the strange feeling that he should apologize. Everything about his demeanor suggested that Dan Ashcroft had been terribly wronged. He was holding himself at full height and looked almost authoritative, despite his shambolic and hungover appearance.
"Was it the first time?" Jones asked, trying to get his bearings. He'd only been awake for a few minutes and hadn't even had a cup of tea yet. He wasn't ready for one of Dan's breakdowns. "I mean, the first time since you and I..."
"Of course!" Dan bellowed, looking insulted. "I haven't been screwing around on you. I was the one who wanted to be exclusive. This was just one terrible mistake."
Jones watched the piss and vinegar drain from Dan, until he was left looking like he barely had the energy to stand.
"I'm sorry, Jones. I'm..." Dan slumped as much as it was possible for a tall man to slump without falling over. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say."
For a writer, Dan tended to be pretty rubbish in the word department. Like most Western males, Dan kept a healthy distance from his feelings and only seemed tangentially aware of his own motivations in life.
"I need some tea, and maybe some muesli..." It was all Jones could think of to say. There was only so much information a person could take in before his first cup of the day.
xxx
It was awkward in bed. Jones didn't know what he was supposed to do. Those social niceties, like how to treat your unfaithful lover when it was bedtime, had not been a part of Jones's life. He felt stiff and a bit foolish, like he'd just found out Dan's name was actually Don, and Jones had been saying it wrong for two decades without noticing.
Dan didn't speak when Jones climbed into bed; he just kissed Jones's shoulder. One quick kiss, like he was testing the waters. When he began kissing Jones all over, it wasn't so much sexual as affectionate (and a bit needy), but it went to Jones's head. He wanted nothing more than to hold Dan and feel close and connected, but it felt strange. He'd woken up confident that Dan would never cheat, and he was going to bed knowing that Dan had cheated. Black was white, and the mix he'd made that evening was total rubbish. He put Dan's hand to his cock, sensing it would be best to be unambiguous about his intentions. Dan wasn't confident in his ability to read a situation at the best of times, and it was far from the best of times.
When Dan reached for the lubricant, Jones felt a little uneasy. He wasn't one to assign a lot of excess meaning to sexual positions, but he didn't really want to be topped by someone who suddenly felt like a stranger. He tried to think of how to say as much without Dan taking it too much to heart. Dan would beat himself up for ages over the affair; there was no need for Jones to feed his self-loathing. Once Dan got into one of his downward spirals, he would sabotage everything he had going for him. That was his way. It would feel good to call Dan a wanker and a bastard and get all that negativity out, but Dan didn't let things go. Whatever Jones said to blow off steam, Dan would remember forever and believe more than anything Jones had ever said about how much he loved the bastard wanker.
So Jones kept quiet as Dan fumbled with the lube, but he had to smile when he realized Dan was actually preparing himself to be topped. He only rarely topped Dan. Jones generally preferred bottoming and/or blowjobs, but every once in a while, he would treat himself to a little Northern bumming. It was always hot, and Dan always seemed to enjoy himself after a little initial awkwardness, but the only time Dan initiated that particular position was when he was trying to send a message. It was usually an apology, because Dan was always sorry about something. So when Dan forgot to go to the bank or left the milk out or had sex with his PA, he bottomed for Jones to show his sincere remorse. It was ridiculous, but it was so typically Dan that it broke his heart. Dan supplied a condom, showing he'd come prepared. In a strange way, it made Jones feel better to know Dan had come home with johnnies. Jones had never asked a partner to be exclusive. His parents had put him on the street at fourteen because they disapproved of his sexuality, and Jones had no interest in judging anyone or adhering to societal norms. He'd always told Dan he could have other partners, as long as he was honest and used protection. It was Dan that wanted monogamy.
There was some comfort in the fact that Dan was prepared, that he had planned to be honest and he had planned on continuing his relationship with Jones. Not long ago, Dan's response would certainly have been to get pissed and silent. He would have let the relationship wither and die before he'd talk about his feelings and motivations.
Jones had spent a lot of time on the streets before he'd met Dan. Jones had never agreed to sleep with someone for a place to stay, but there had been times when he'd felt like he was prostituting himself for food and shelter. Sometimes he'd meet a guy, or even a girl, that he really liked and who offered him a place to stay. It would be terrific, but then if things turned sexual... he could never be sure if saying no was really an option. It wasn't a good feeling. It had made Jones paranoid, and made him feel alone even when he was in bed with someone.
Dan had never asked him for anything. He had paid nearly all the bills for years until Jones started making some serious money as a DJ. Dan had never asked for anything in return. He didn't want to be thanked; he just wanted Jones to be safe. Even before they were friends, when they were just flatmates, Dan had worried about Jones in his own, gruff way. Dan would have two fags in one hand and a whiskey neat in the other as he warned Jones to stay away from designer drugs and men with neck tattoos and other things that would kill him. Jones had let Dan know on several occasions that he wasn't averse to sharing a bed, but Dan would just ruffle his hair and sleep on the couch. Dan was like a big brother to Jones. Not a real brother, but kind of a sexy stepbrother.
Jones tried to shut his brain off and just let Dan make him feel good. Shutting his brain off wasn't easy without chemical assistance, but Dan knew exactly what Jones liked. It wasn't long before Jones was rattling their headboard so hard it looked like it might come loose while Dan told him he was "fucking amazing."
Jones would make it work. He loved Dan.
Besides, they were going to be grandparents soon.
xxx
Sasha's expression offered no clue to her thoughts. It was far from unusual - she'd always held her cards close to her chest - but it was a startling contrast to Dan's feeling of being wide open and exposed. He was a computer trapped in a porn cycle. Faster than he could close one screen, five more popped up, moaning his disgrace to the world. His brain couldn't be unplugged or forced closed. Alcohol had used to work like a reset button, but not anymore.
Sasha's eyes narrowed, her face a stony mask.
"What the fuck did you do, Dan?"
Like all good mothers, Sasha knew how to yell in a barely audible whisper.
Dan fidgeted like a child. He'd never been able to deal with other people's anger. He'd spent hours bracing himself for Jones to tell him off. When the screams and vitriol never came, Dan was left on edge and confused, feeling worse than ever. He should have known Jones would take it all in stride. Other than Claire, no one knew Dan like Jones. Jones had known from the beginning that he was getting tangled up with a selfish asshole. Jones had never bothered to ask why Dan was unfaithful.
"Who did you tell?" Sasha whispered.
"Jones."
For a moment, Dan thought Sasha was going to snap a pen in half, but she took a breath and closed her eyes.
And put the pen down. Her face was once again inscrutable.
"I'm getting married," she reminded him. "I can't be involved in your self-indulgent drama, Dan. I've got my own mental problems."
"He won't say anything," Dan assured her, feeling an irrational need to defend Jones from even the hint that he was a gossip. Jones minded his own business and had no interest in being malicious. If Jones were one to tell tales out of school, Kevin Alexander wouldn't need to do an "unofficial investigation" into Dan Ashcroft.
Dan didn't dare look away from Sasha's searching stare.
"No one else," she ordered, making no pretense that it was a request. "No one hears about this. Not even Claire."
Dan pretended to zip his lip and throw away the key. It was the same gesture he would use when he was promising to keep Claire's secrets, but this time he meant it. It was one thing to humiliate your little sister; that was just harmless fun. In a strange way, Sasha was one of Dan's best friends. She was always trying to clean him up and put him on the right track. They often disagreed on what his goals should be, but Dan never doubted which of them was right. He had long ago realized that living up to his potential was too hard, but Sasha still thought she could make a silk purse out of the sow's ear that was Dan Ashcroft. It would be a thrift shop silk purse, one that reeked of booze and fags and was stained from being dropped in a puddle of sick, but still more elegant than Dan was ever willing to be.
Sasha continued to stare Dan down until he wondered if he was supposed to go to his desk, but then her face softened.
"I'm sorry, Dan. I'm sorry I dragged you into my little age crisis. I've just been feeling overwhelmed, and it was nice to just get pissed and..." Sasha trailed off and finally broke eye contact. "It's hard being a grown-up."
"Yes!" Dan agreed with entirely too much enthusiasm.
Sasha laughed.
"Don't let Jones get away. Don't give up and just..." Sasha gave a despairing face that was entirely too reminiscent of Jonatton Yeah's 'Dan face.' "He's good for you."
Dan spent the rest of the day wondering how people went about not screwing up relationships.