Fic: Me With You and You With Me, Entourage, V/E, E/OMC, R, (3/3)
Notes in Part 1. Part 3:
They have a nice dinner at a small pizza place Travis likes. It’s California pizza, nothing like back home, but Travis - though he has a place in the city - doesn’t know pizza from pizza. That’s OK, though, because he picks the wine expertly, and the whole thing is made better by a good Chianti and good company. After the check’s been paid, Eric leans on the table and looks across at Travis. In a world without Vince, he thinks, and shakes his head.
“So,” Travis says, smiling, holding his glass of wine, “I wanted to tell you something. I’m going back to New York next week.”
“Yeah?” Eric takes a sip of his own wine. “Man, already, huh?”
Travis nods. “Filming’s done, and I’ve got to admit, I’m ready to get out of this town. Except for one thing.” He sets his glass down and smiles across at Eric, and Eric smiles back. “Come with me.”
“Uh - what?”
“Come with me. To New York.”
“For, what, the weekend?”
“No,” Travis says. His face is perfectly serious, his eyes earnest and a little daring. “I’ve got a place there.”
“What, you want me to just move in with you? Your publicist’s gonna love that.”
Travis shrugs. “Stay with your mom if you’re worried about how it will look.”
Eric shifts back in his chair. “You’re serious.” Travis nods. “I can’t. You know that. My job is here.”
“You mean Vince is here.”
He shrugs. “Insomuch as he’s my job, and my other clients are my job, yeah.”
“So get another job,” Travis says. “Look, I know, I know I said I get the way things are for you, but - E, if he doesn’t get it by now, he’s not going to. And you deserve - I think we deserve - something better. Something more. These last few months, I mean - we fit, you know?”
Eric nods. It’s all he can do, because the truth is, yeah. They do fit. He’s pretty fucking happy with Travis, particularly next to all of the other shit that’s happening with Vince. These last few months, hanging out with Travis - being with Travis - has kept him sane, in the same way that hanging out with Vince used to do. But that doesn’t seem like a good reason to give up the longest relationship he’s ever had just to follow Travis to New York. “I get what you’re saying,” he says, “but I can’t move. Not right now. The movie’s starting, and it really is my job - my whole life is here.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Travis counters. “I get that you don’t want to just be, like, living off of me, or whatever. That’s not what I’m suggesting. There are tons of people looking for a good manager in New York. And it’s like home base for you, so between that and my connections, it’d be a breeze to find work.” He reaches out, catches Eric’s hand where it’s resting on his wine glass. “Look, I know it’s a lot, and it’s sudden, all of that, but - just think about it. Say you’ll think about it.”
He looks into Travis’s eyes, which are still that perfect blazing green, and he nods. “OK,” he says, and Travis’s grin suddenly matches the heat of his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Travis says. He kisses Eric’s hand before he releases it.
That night, Eric stays over at Travis’s place, and when he’s resting in Travis’s arms while Travis sleeps behind him, he lets himself really think about what this could mean. He is happy with Travis. They get along well, as nicely as Eric’s ever gotten along with any of his serious girlfriends. They don’t have the history that Eric has with Vince, but - well, if Vince isn’t an option, and it seems more and more like he’s not, then that shouldn’t be a factor. People move jobs and towns all the time to stick with people they love. And, well, Eric’s about ready to admit that this is what’s going on.
The next morning, he leaves Travis with a kiss and a promise that he’ll spend the day thinking, then drives over to meet Anita for coffee. He hopes this isn’t going to be about planning something for Vince’s birthday next month, and startles a little when he realizes, if he goes to New York with Travis, he might miss that altogether.
She’s sitting in a booth near the back, and Eric orders before he joins her. “Hey,” she says as he slides in opposite. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure,” he says. She looks a little nervous and a little tired. “Everything OK?”
She nods. “I guess I’ll just get right to it,” she says. “I’m, uh, I was hoping you might be able to help me with Vince.”
“Help you?” Eric asks. He has an immediate sinking feeling in his stomach. Oh Christ, he thinks. What if she’s pregnant?
“He’s been really weird, lately. Like, the last couple of weeks, he never wants to go out, he never wants to do anything, which is weird. And then this last week -” She stops, and Eric takes a sip to cover his own sudden anxiety. “He’s just been sort of down, I guess. Quiet. Like he’s in a funk all the time. I don’t know if he’s unhappy because of something I did, or if it’s -”
“It’s nothing you did,” Eric says, as gently as possible. “You gotta trust me.”
She looks up. “Do you know what’s going on?”
He shrugs. “I have a guess, but I can’t - it’s got nothing to do with you. I promise. I just can’t really talk about it.”
She nods. “Do you - I thought, maybe, I know you’re his best friend. Could you talk with him?” Her eyes are wide and worried. “I’m concerned about him,” she says. “He’s not - something’s not OK.”
“Yeah,” Eric says. “Of course. But listen. He’s fine, he’s gonna be fine. Sometimes, it just gets stressful before filming starts, with everything that’s going on.” She’s still staring at him. Fuck, he thinks. This girl really cares. “But of course, sure, I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you,” she says. She shakes her head. “It’s weird, I know, you’re his best friend, what right do I have, huh?”
“I haven’t seen that much of him recently,” Eric says, because she must know something’s up. “I’ve been pretty busy.”
She laughs. “With Travis Walters, yeah, I got the memo. How is he?”
“Good,” Eric says. He rubs his neck nervously. “Really good.”
They manage to make a little more small talk to finish out their coffees, and then Eric sees her off - back to work - and wonders what to do next. No time like the present, he thinks, and calls Turtle to see if Vince is at home.
“Nah, he and Drama went to the gym,” Turtle says. “Why, you wanna come by?”
Eric relays most of his meeting with Anita, and Turtle snorts. “Shit, I could’ve told you that. He’s been moody ever since you and Travis started up.”
“Yeah, well, that might be about to get worse,” Eric says, getting in his car.
“Why’s that?”
“Travis asked me to move in with him.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In New York, leaving next week.”
“Holy shit,” Turtle says, and then he says it again. “Wait, are you really thinking about it?”
“Yeah,” he admits.
“Jesus Christ. Vince is gonna freak.”
Eric takes a turn a little too fast. “Honestly, you think he’ll even care?”
“Do I - are you on something, E? I mean seriously, you don’t think this funk of his isn’t directly caused by this whole, like, Erica mess?”
“You know what I think? I think he likes that girl, and she really fucking likes him, too, so, fine, good for him. It’s - maybe it’s not replacement, Turtle. Maybe they’re happy. He’s happy, I’m happy, maybe this is just how it goes.”
“He’s not happy, and you don’t exactly sound like a fucking parade yourself.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because I’m pissed at myself for ever listening to you about any of this,” Eric says. “You know what, maybe things would just be easier if I was in New York.”
“Don’t even fucking -”
“I gotta go,” he says, and snaps the phone shut. He’s breathing fast. Did he just say that? Does he really think that? If he were in New York, away from the guys, away from Vince - would it be easier? Maybe, he admits. At least he wouldn’t have to face Vince and all this weird distance, and he wouldn’t have Vince around to remind him of the road not taken. And maybe Vince would be able to pull it together with Anita, finally settle down. It’s all finally happening, he thinks.
He dials Travis, but just gets his voice mail. “Hey, call me back,” he says, and closes his phone again.
He stops on the way home to get another coffee, and while he’s there, his phone rings. Vince. “Hello?”
“You’re moving to fucking New York?”
Eric sighs. “Turtle called you.”
“Yeah, he called me. Yeah. Unlike you, he called me because he’s my friend. And I don’t know what exactly that makes us, E, except -”
“You wanna keep yelling or you wanna give me a chance to explain?”
There’s a pause. “Both,” Vince says, “but I can take a break to hear your excuses. But in person, I’m not letting you fucking pussy out on this. You wanna quit, then be a man and tell me in fucking person at least.”
“Fine,” Eric says, feeling weary. “You at the house?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.”
When he gets to the house, Vince is waiting in the driveway, and he opens the passenger’s door and climbs in. “Your place,” Vince says. “Unless you want Turtle and Johnny listening at the door.”
“Good point,” Eric says, and he whirls back through the gates. The ride over is silent and awkward and, unless Eric’s completely wrong, very hostile. He asks once if Vince wants to get a coffee on the way or anything, and Vince just shakes his head, a mute no, so Eric speeds on. He feels like everything he said in their fight and everything Vince might be thinking about this move - which, probably, seems like the worst kind of betrayal - is right there, floating between them, and he has a terrible feeling like it’s totally up to him to set things right. Vince, after all, isn’t really a take-charge kind of guy. But he can’t think of anything to say, not yet; his brain is still struggling with the idea that they’re really going to do this, they’re going to have the fight they should have had a year ago, the one that either ends everything or fixes some of what’s been broken.
He feels the same strange mixture of pride and shame that he always feels when he leads Vince up to his condo. It’s not the nicest place in the world - location-wise, it’s a step up from the place Drama had a few years back, but it’s small and not well-appointed, compared to Vince’s elegantly decorated house. Eric’s put things together as best he can. He doesn’t have the money Vince does, and even if he did - well, his priorities would be different. They always have been.
Vince clears his throat. “You have any beer?”
Eric shakes his head, even though he’s pretty sure he does, and instead offers to make coffee. No way is he doing this on anything but the clearest head. He goes to the kitchen and futzes with the coffeemaker until he has enough for both of them, then adds sugar to Vince’s and milk to his own and carries them back to the living room, where Vince is still standing, frozen. He takes the cup and drops onto the couch, somehow not spilling his coffee, and Eric takes a seat on the edge of the armchair. Vince is looking around like he’s never been here before, which, as a stalling tactic, isn’t so bad, Eric decides. He wishes he could get away with it. Instead, he clears his throat.
“So, you wanna start yelling now, or you want to finish your coffee first?” he asks.
Vince says, very clearly, “You can’t move to New York.” Eric blinks, not sure how to respond to that, and then Vince looks up at him. His expression is a mix of things - he’s asking, he’s telling, and clearly, he’s confused.
“Why not?”
“We’ve got a movie to do,” Vince says.
Eric rolls his eyes. “Bullshit,” he says. “You can do that without me. All of the business stuff is tied up, and Ari can handle anything -”
“I don’t want you to go.” Eric stops, not sure how to take that. It looks like Vince isn’t quite sure about how it should be taken, either. He turns, finally, and looks at him, even sets his cup down. “You remember New Year’s Eve, I called you?” Eric nods. “And I wanted to talk about some stuff?” He nods again. “Let’s have that talk now.”
“Uh - OK.”
Vince sits forward. “I wanted - fuck, I had this all planned.”
Eric’s feeling nervous and confused, and he can’t stop fiddling with the spoon in his coffee. For months he’s been wanting to hear what Vince’s deal is; now, he thinks he could go forever without hearing what’s on his mind. “Had what all planned?”
“This talk. We were going to go to dinner and I was going to say, I was going to tell you - ” Vince laughs to himself, then looks up. “E, I think I’m interested in you.”
Eric blinks. This is not where he thought this talk was going. Not even Shauna’s guarantee that Vince would come around convinced him they’d ever get here. But maybe he’s misunderstanding. “Interested?” he manages, though in a squeaky voice unlike his own.
“In a sex way,” Vince says, and Eric nearly drops his coffee.
“OK,” he says, setting his cup next to Vince’s, “OK. Um. Let’s - you were going to tell me this on New Year’s?”
“I think I realized it on New Year’s,” Vince says. “I was with this girl - beautiful girl, really hot - and it was midnight and we were making out, and all I could think was I wanted you there. I wanted to go home and find you waiting, you know?”
At home waiting. Well. That’s not exactly good news. “That’s - that’s really sweet, Vin, but -”
“And I think that’s why Lucas made me so crazy,” he says. “Because - why him, you know? After all these years - and if you knew, all along - why him, E?”
Eric shrugs. “I didn’t think you were interested,” he says honestly.
Vince rolls his eyes. “You saw me with Tommy, you knew I -”
“I don’t mean in guys, Vince,” Eric says. “I mean in me. And - even past that, you’ve hardly ever shown any sign of wanting a serious relationship with someone. And you know that’s how I’m wired.”
“I do,” Vince says, “and I’m OK with that.”
“You - what?” Eric says.
“I’ve been with Anita for like six months now,” Vince says. “And according to your theory, that’s basically just a sign of how well we could work.”
Eric swallows and has to look away from Vince’s strangely eager, open face. “OK. So, you’re saying you, like, you like me.”
“What is this, high school?” Vince says. “Ooh, I like you.”
“It feels a little like high school, yeah,” Eric says, “in that I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”
“E,” Vince says, and he puts his hand on Eric’s knee. Eric is surprised by how weird that feels, how awkward. “Say it back.”
“What?” he says, shaking his head, trying to get a grip on things. He thought he was going to get yelled at, and instead - instead, Vince is coming on to him, Vince is asking him to - “Yeah, OK, I want you, too,” Eric says, and Vince grins.
“Duh,” he mutters, and kisses him.
It’s a pretty sloppy kiss - Eric is caught by surprise, and he pulls back at the same time Vince lurches forward, and so it’s more like Vince is kissing his bottom lip than that they’re actually kissing. Vince pulls back and laughs a little, shaking his head.
“Vin,” Eric says, putting his hand on Vince’s shoulder, and Vince looks up. It’s the look from that night a few months ago, a sort of half-curious, half-wanting look that Eric’s seen his entire life and never known exactly how much he loves. It’s Vince saying, whatever, man, whatever you think, I’m on board. So Eric cups his face, and when Vince’s eyes close he leans down to kiss him, and this time, it’s perfectly on target. Vince’s hands slide up and onto Eric’s shoulders, and then he’s slowly pushed back in the chair, Vince stretching out over him, somehow balancing on one knee while they keep kissing and touching. Eric runs his hands into Vince’s hair and tugs him lightly back, and when Vince’s eyes open, he starts smiling.
“That was better,” Vince says, and Eric laughs.
“Coffee breath,” he accuses.
“I wanted booze,” Vince says, and kisses him again.
“Hang on.” Eric moves his hands down between them, pushing gently on Vince’s chest. “We weren’t through talking, I don’t think.”
Vince smirks. “We’ve been talking our whole lives.”
“Get on the fucking couch,” Eric snaps, and Vince obliges with a laugh. Eric still feels completely wound up, like everything is swirling around him and anything could happen next, but Vince looks completely relaxed. He kicks his feet up and bends an arm behind his head.
“You know, I love your place,” Vince says, gazing up at the ceiling. “I really do. It’s - it reminds me of home.”
“Thanks,” Eric says, shaking his head. “I’ve seen home for you, so -”
“No, I mean - it’s comfortable.” He snuggles down into the couch. “Everything here, it’s here because you like it, it’s your stuff. No random décor, just - E.” He turns his head and grins in this blinding, friendly way that makes Eric smile back just automatically. “I like it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eric says. “You really - you mean this, don’t you?”
“What, about the furniture?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Vince props himself up on one elbow. “E, do you know, do you even get it? I feel great about this. When Turtle said you were gonna move, I - it just finally clicked for me. In that fight, all that stuff you said - that’s true. She was totally my excuse, I mean, you’re right. You’re always right, it’s sort of what’s charming about you.”
Eric’s smiling so big it’s almost painful. “Can I get some of this in writing?”
“Why don’t you come over here,” Vince says, patting the side of the couch, “and I’ll tell you what else is charming.”
“Jesus,” Eric says. “Like ten minutes ago, I thought you were coming here to, like, break up with me. I mean, you know what I mean.”
“What, because of the fight? Or because you were gonna quit on me like some stupid pussy?”
“And because you’ve been treating me like a space alien for six months.”
Vince frowns. “Well, you’ve kind of been acting like one.”
Eric’s first instinct is to lash out, but he’s still got the smell of Vince’s cologne in his nostrils and on his skin, and so he pauses before he speaks. “What?” he says, trying to sound more curious than accusatory.
“I’ve known you more than twenty years, now,” Vince says, “and I never had any idea about you.”
“Yeah,” Eric says ruefully, “I sort of caught that when I came out to you guys.”
Vince lays back. “Not my best day, I know. But you gotta admit - it was sort of out of nowhere.”
“The other guys knew,” Eric says, and Vince scoffs. “No, seriously.”
“The other guys tried to convince me it was an elaborate joke,” Vince says. “They thought you were doing it as some kind of bet.”
“Huh.” That actually explains a lot, Eric thinks, because - well, he’s never thought of Drama and Turtle as particularly perceptive. “So how’d you know it wasn’t a joke, then?”
Vince shrugs. “You liked Luke. I mean - you really liked him. Like you always do.”
“Yeah,” Eric agrees. “I did.”
“So - can I ask you something, then? What are you going to do about Travis?”
Eric sighs. “Fuck,” he says. “I don’t know. What are you going to say to Anita?” Vince shrugs again, and Eric shakes his head. “No. No way. You can’t just stop with her, not your usual shit, all right? That girl has expectations.”
He groans. “What, you want I should marry her just so I don’t hurt her feelings? That’s gonna make us getting it on a little more difficult.”
“No, I’m just saying - you have to be a human being about this one, all right?”
“So tell me,” Vince says, leaning forward, his gaze intent. “If she’s really girl you, how would you want me to end things?”
And that’s not a conversation Eric wants to have at all. So he says, “Let me think about it.”
“While you’re thinking,” Vince says, and again pats the couch, “can we please make out now?”
He looks down at Vince, who’s positively preening, arching his back so his shirt slides up, licking his lips - damn. Maybe it should be alarming, how fast Vince can go from angry to seductive, but Eric knows this is how it’s always worked for him. He’s been watching Vince for more than 20 years. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of joke?” Eric says, standing up.
“Because here in a minute, I’m gonna blow you,” Vince says. “I think there’s some law about never joking about a blow job.”
“If there isn’t, there should be,” Eric says. He sits at the other end of the couch and starts to lean over, and it’s awkward and they both almost fall off at least once before Eric’s even close to Vince’s face.
Vince laughs, and Eric feels strangely annoyed. “Maybe there should be some law about making out on the couch once you’re over thirty,” he says, starting to pull back.
“Yeah, like it can be fun,” Vince says, and he pulls Eric back down. Eric goes willingly, even though he feels a little unsteady until he gets his legs between Vince’s and then, then it’s stable. Then it’s OK. And Eric relaxes into it, and then it hits him - he’s making out with Vince. Oh god, he thinks, and then he says it, and Vince grins and they somehow flip over.
“I need to tell you something,” Vince says, mouthing Eric’s cock through his jeans.
“Is this the time?” Eric asks. “‘Cuz whatever you say - I can’t promise I’m gonna remember.”
Vince laughs and his fingers nimbly unstrap Eric’s belt, and after that he really, really can’t pay attention. Vince unzips Eric’s jeans and the sound seems unnaturally loud; Eric has a crazy thought like he should have turned on the stereo or something, like the moment isn’t appropriately romantic. Because - God - this should be the best thing ever, this should be the greatest lay of his life, right here, Vince touching him. His hands are gentle on Eric’s thighs, and then they move to his cock, stroking a few times, his fingers dry and a little rough, and the sensation isn’t exactly nice. Eric grunts and sees Vince look up, and something about that, seeing Vince’s chin hovering just by Eric’s navel, well, holy God, that’s hot. Vince smirks, then licks his lips, and Eric groans. “I thought you might like that,” Vince whispers, and then he ducks his head and kisses the tip of Eric’s dick.
Eric is suddenly harder than he’s ever been in his life. His hands spasm up and he just stops himself from grabbing Vince’s hair, because Eric hates it when guys get pushy and he won’t do that to Vince, not now, not during their first time. Vince licks him from tip to base, then back, and he takes the tip about an inch or two into his mouth a few times. It’s not enough, not really, but it’s so hot just to see Vince sucking him that when Vince strokes him again and then makes an impossibly lewd slurping sound, Eric comes. Vince pulls back and swallows, and Eric doesn’t miss the look of surprise - the slight wince - on his face before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “So that thing I was going to tell you,” Vince says, easing back up next to Eric. He slides in between Eric and the back of the couch, and Eric barely has to move to make room. Fucking skinny freak, Eric thinks affectionately.
“What’s that?” Eric shifts around and gets his boxers pulled back up, doesn’t mess with his fly yet.
Vince kisses the side of Eric’s head, and Eric turns, kisses Vince, tastes a little sourness there. “I’ve never done that before,” Vince whispers.
Eric pulls back and meets Vince’s eye. “You’ve - what?”
Vince is still touching him, rubbing his chest under his shirt, nuzzling his neck. “Never blown anyone,” Vince says.
“You’re a virgin?” Eric asks.
Vince laughs. “Hardly,” he says. “I just - I’ve done other stuff, lots of other stuff, but never that. I never had to,” he says, and shrugs. Eric wants to ask about the other stuff, but, well, he figures that can be a discovery for later.
“Never,” Eric says, just to clarify, and Vince says, “I never wanted to, before,” and Eric kisses him again. He can feel that Vince is hard, and when Vince shifts close to him, Eric snags the waist of his pants. He draws Vince over, so that Vince’s leg slides between Eric’s, his dick in line with Eric’s thigh. Eric knows how this feels, this perfect friction. He licks his hand and then slips it inside Vince’s loose pants, where there’s no underwear to get in his way. He strokes him and watches Vince gasp, then sees his lip thin into a neat pale line, and Eric nudges him, kisses him, and Vince opens his mouth and actually fucking clings to Eric’s shoulders as he comes. And then, to Eric’s surprise, Vince goes completely limp on top of him.
“Vince?” he asks, and Vince groans softly. Eric laughs, draws his hand back and wipes it on his own shirt. He rubs Vince’s back until he groans again, coming around, and Eric kisses his temple.
“Welcome back,” Eric says.
“Oh, Jesus,” Vince whispers into the crook of Eric’s neck. “That’s embarrassing.”
Eric smiles. Sure, this wasn’t the greatest sex ever, but he feels strangely hopeful. Strangely - wonderful. They’ll figure this out. They’ve managed to get each other off without the world ending, that’s gotta mean something. “You don’t usually black out, do you? Because if I’d known, I’d have spent more time worrying over the years.”
“Not usually,” Vince says. “Guess I was kind of geared up.”
“What, Erica hasn’t been giving you much action, recently?”
“Well, yeah,” Vince says, his voice heavy, sleepy, “but - I don’t know. I think - I mean, that wasn’t even that hot.” Eric laughs. “No offense,” Vince says quickly, turning to kiss Eric’s cheek sloppily.
“Hey, first-time blowjob versus expert handjob, I think we’re probably even on the hotness,” Eric says. “Though I managed to stay conscious.”
“You’re a knock out, what can I say,” Vince murmurs. “Can I sleep now or do you need to talk more?”
“By all means.”
Vince settles in, his head now resting on Eric’s shoulder, his arm across Eric’s chest heavy but, right now, not unwelcome. Eric closes his own eyes, too; he feels sleepy and keyed-up in even amounts, but Vince’s warm presence might win him over to resting.
“Hey,” Vince says, his voice soft, “can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“About Travis.”
Eric sighs. “What about him?”
Vince doesn’t say anything, but his thigh shifts, grazes Eric’s crotch, and Eric grunts and then gets it. He laughs. “No,” he says, “I was just saying that to get at you. He’s not actually bigger.”
“I didn’t think so,” Vince says, and he snuggles in again.
Eric smiles. “It’s funny that you’re more offended by that.”
“I know Luke’s smarter than me,” Vince says. “Whatever. You’re smarter than him, so I still win in the end.”
Eric turns and kisses Vince, and Vince smiles sleepily when he pulls back. “OK, nap time,” he says.
“You started the talking,” Eric says, and Vince grumbles but doesn’t say anything more. Soon, he’s asleep, and Eric listens to him breathing, just lays there, still smelling musk and sweat on them both, and falls asleep with his own head tucked up next to Vince’s shoulder.
Breaking up is, it turns out, not so hard to do. Eric calls Travis the next day and asks if they can get together, and when Travis suggests lunch, Eric says, “No, uh, why don’t you come over here, or I can -”
“Oh,” Travis says, and then laughs. “Somewhere we can talk, huh? Is it the talk I think we’re gonna have?”
Eric rubs his neck. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
“Eric, it’s cool,” he says. “I kind of figured. Just tell me - is it me, or is it him?”
He sighs. “Him.”
Travis laughs again. “You know what, I’m kind of happy for you.”
Eric looks over at his bed, where Vince is sitting cross-legged, watching him pace around with the phone. “Yeah, really?” Eric asks, and Vince raises an eyebrow, like, see, I told you.
“Really,” Travis says. “Tell him I said hi. Next time I’m in town, let’s all get drinks.”
“That’d be cool. OK.” Eric turns so he’s not facing Vince, not even sure what to say but feeling like he needs to say something, to let Travis know that it wasn’t just a decoy for him, that he really liked Travis. “Hey -” he starts.
“I know,” Travis says, his voice warm and serious. “Me, too. If things don’t work out, you let me know.”
“Sure thing,” Eric says, and then they say good-bye. He tosses the phone onto the bed and then follows it down, and Vince laughs and rubs his shoulders.
“Aw, was that so bad?”
“No,” Eric says, rolling onto his side to look at him. “Actually, it kind of makes me wonder if you haven’t had the right idea all these years.”
Vince shrugs. “See, this is what I’m saying.”
“Nuh-uh,” Eric says. “You gotta call her, you gotta do this right. OK?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vince says. He picks up his own phone. “Watch this. The master at work.” He dials and then stands as he says, “Hey, honey, how’s it going? Yeah. Yeah, I know, I’m sorry - things got crazy yesterday. Right. Yeah.” He looks at Eric and widens his eyes. “Hey, so listen, I was wanting to talk to you - really? Tonight, huh?” Eric grins. “Um, sure. Sure. No, no, why don’t you come over? Yeah. OK. Around eight. Great, see you then.” He turns his head away and says, fast, “Me, too,” before he hangs up. Then he falls back onto the bed, and Eric hovers near him.
“You’re so fucked,” he says. “That girl’s heart is about to be broken.”
“Can you just do it?” Vince asks. “Just - tell her, explain to her, that this isn’t me, that I -”
“That you don’t do monogamy?” Eric asks, and Vince rolls his eyes.
“That I don’t do people other than you,” Vince says. “Christ, she’s gonna be upset, isn’t she? There’s gonna be crying.”
“We’ll get you some tissues on the way,” Eric says, patting Vince’s stomach. Vince looks up at him. “What, of course I’m going along. I wouldn’t miss watching the master work.”
In the end, Eric goes along but stays out of sight in the kitchen while Vince and Anita talk in the living room. There’s crying, and there’s some very awkward talk around the issue from Vince, who actually says, “I swear it’s not you, it’s me, it’s so me,” and then finally, Anita leaves. Eric watches her sit in her car for a moment, composing herself, her hands wiping over her eyes. His heart goes out to her. He wishes he knew someone to set her up with, wishes he knew a way to promise her that someday she’ll find someone, that sometimes the good people do win in the end.
Vince comes in and joins Eric at the window, puts his arms around him from behind. He says, “We can’t ever break up, OK? Because then I’ll probably cry,” and Eric smiles and nods. Right now, he can’t think about what that would look like, how heartbroken he would be. That’s the difference between him and the girl in the driveway; her guy is still out there, but Eric’s is right here. He knows this from years of wanting, from years of settling and telling himself it wasn’t possible. There’s no one else for him. This is as good as it can ever get. It’s not something he can say to Vince, not now, not yet, so he just leans back into Vince, a little, and Vince kisses his neck. “Don’t worry about her,” he says. “Someday, her Vince will come.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ that’s lame,” Eric says as Vince hums the song against his neck.
“Mm-hm.” Vince kisses him again and slides his hands under Eric’s shirt. “Bad stuff over, let’s make out more,” he says, and Eric laughs.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
[The End]
They have a nice dinner at a small pizza place Travis likes. It’s California pizza, nothing like back home, but Travis - though he has a place in the city - doesn’t know pizza from pizza. That’s OK, though, because he picks the wine expertly, and the whole thing is made better by a good Chianti and good company. After the check’s been paid, Eric leans on the table and looks across at Travis. In a world without Vince, he thinks, and shakes his head.
“So,” Travis says, smiling, holding his glass of wine, “I wanted to tell you something. I’m going back to New York next week.”
“Yeah?” Eric takes a sip of his own wine. “Man, already, huh?”
Travis nods. “Filming’s done, and I’ve got to admit, I’m ready to get out of this town. Except for one thing.” He sets his glass down and smiles across at Eric, and Eric smiles back. “Come with me.”
“Uh - what?”
“Come with me. To New York.”
“For, what, the weekend?”
“No,” Travis says. His face is perfectly serious, his eyes earnest and a little daring. “I’ve got a place there.”
“What, you want me to just move in with you? Your publicist’s gonna love that.”
Travis shrugs. “Stay with your mom if you’re worried about how it will look.”
Eric shifts back in his chair. “You’re serious.” Travis nods. “I can’t. You know that. My job is here.”
“You mean Vince is here.”
He shrugs. “Insomuch as he’s my job, and my other clients are my job, yeah.”
“So get another job,” Travis says. “Look, I know, I know I said I get the way things are for you, but - E, if he doesn’t get it by now, he’s not going to. And you deserve - I think we deserve - something better. Something more. These last few months, I mean - we fit, you know?”
Eric nods. It’s all he can do, because the truth is, yeah. They do fit. He’s pretty fucking happy with Travis, particularly next to all of the other shit that’s happening with Vince. These last few months, hanging out with Travis - being with Travis - has kept him sane, in the same way that hanging out with Vince used to do. But that doesn’t seem like a good reason to give up the longest relationship he’s ever had just to follow Travis to New York. “I get what you’re saying,” he says, “but I can’t move. Not right now. The movie’s starting, and it really is my job - my whole life is here.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Travis counters. “I get that you don’t want to just be, like, living off of me, or whatever. That’s not what I’m suggesting. There are tons of people looking for a good manager in New York. And it’s like home base for you, so between that and my connections, it’d be a breeze to find work.” He reaches out, catches Eric’s hand where it’s resting on his wine glass. “Look, I know it’s a lot, and it’s sudden, all of that, but - just think about it. Say you’ll think about it.”
He looks into Travis’s eyes, which are still that perfect blazing green, and he nods. “OK,” he says, and Travis’s grin suddenly matches the heat of his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Travis says. He kisses Eric’s hand before he releases it.
That night, Eric stays over at Travis’s place, and when he’s resting in Travis’s arms while Travis sleeps behind him, he lets himself really think about what this could mean. He is happy with Travis. They get along well, as nicely as Eric’s ever gotten along with any of his serious girlfriends. They don’t have the history that Eric has with Vince, but - well, if Vince isn’t an option, and it seems more and more like he’s not, then that shouldn’t be a factor. People move jobs and towns all the time to stick with people they love. And, well, Eric’s about ready to admit that this is what’s going on.
The next morning, he leaves Travis with a kiss and a promise that he’ll spend the day thinking, then drives over to meet Anita for coffee. He hopes this isn’t going to be about planning something for Vince’s birthday next month, and startles a little when he realizes, if he goes to New York with Travis, he might miss that altogether.
She’s sitting in a booth near the back, and Eric orders before he joins her. “Hey,” she says as he slides in opposite. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure,” he says. She looks a little nervous and a little tired. “Everything OK?”
She nods. “I guess I’ll just get right to it,” she says. “I’m, uh, I was hoping you might be able to help me with Vince.”
“Help you?” Eric asks. He has an immediate sinking feeling in his stomach. Oh Christ, he thinks. What if she’s pregnant?
“He’s been really weird, lately. Like, the last couple of weeks, he never wants to go out, he never wants to do anything, which is weird. And then this last week -” She stops, and Eric takes a sip to cover his own sudden anxiety. “He’s just been sort of down, I guess. Quiet. Like he’s in a funk all the time. I don’t know if he’s unhappy because of something I did, or if it’s -”
“It’s nothing you did,” Eric says, as gently as possible. “You gotta trust me.”
She looks up. “Do you know what’s going on?”
He shrugs. “I have a guess, but I can’t - it’s got nothing to do with you. I promise. I just can’t really talk about it.”
She nods. “Do you - I thought, maybe, I know you’re his best friend. Could you talk with him?” Her eyes are wide and worried. “I’m concerned about him,” she says. “He’s not - something’s not OK.”
“Yeah,” Eric says. “Of course. But listen. He’s fine, he’s gonna be fine. Sometimes, it just gets stressful before filming starts, with everything that’s going on.” She’s still staring at him. Fuck, he thinks. This girl really cares. “But of course, sure, I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you,” she says. She shakes her head. “It’s weird, I know, you’re his best friend, what right do I have, huh?”
“I haven’t seen that much of him recently,” Eric says, because she must know something’s up. “I’ve been pretty busy.”
She laughs. “With Travis Walters, yeah, I got the memo. How is he?”
“Good,” Eric says. He rubs his neck nervously. “Really good.”
They manage to make a little more small talk to finish out their coffees, and then Eric sees her off - back to work - and wonders what to do next. No time like the present, he thinks, and calls Turtle to see if Vince is at home.
“Nah, he and Drama went to the gym,” Turtle says. “Why, you wanna come by?”
Eric relays most of his meeting with Anita, and Turtle snorts. “Shit, I could’ve told you that. He’s been moody ever since you and Travis started up.”
“Yeah, well, that might be about to get worse,” Eric says, getting in his car.
“Why’s that?”
“Travis asked me to move in with him.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In New York, leaving next week.”
“Holy shit,” Turtle says, and then he says it again. “Wait, are you really thinking about it?”
“Yeah,” he admits.
“Jesus Christ. Vince is gonna freak.”
Eric takes a turn a little too fast. “Honestly, you think he’ll even care?”
“Do I - are you on something, E? I mean seriously, you don’t think this funk of his isn’t directly caused by this whole, like, Erica mess?”
“You know what I think? I think he likes that girl, and she really fucking likes him, too, so, fine, good for him. It’s - maybe it’s not replacement, Turtle. Maybe they’re happy. He’s happy, I’m happy, maybe this is just how it goes.”
“He’s not happy, and you don’t exactly sound like a fucking parade yourself.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because I’m pissed at myself for ever listening to you about any of this,” Eric says. “You know what, maybe things would just be easier if I was in New York.”
“Don’t even fucking -”
“I gotta go,” he says, and snaps the phone shut. He’s breathing fast. Did he just say that? Does he really think that? If he were in New York, away from the guys, away from Vince - would it be easier? Maybe, he admits. At least he wouldn’t have to face Vince and all this weird distance, and he wouldn’t have Vince around to remind him of the road not taken. And maybe Vince would be able to pull it together with Anita, finally settle down. It’s all finally happening, he thinks.
He dials Travis, but just gets his voice mail. “Hey, call me back,” he says, and closes his phone again.
He stops on the way home to get another coffee, and while he’s there, his phone rings. Vince. “Hello?”
“You’re moving to fucking New York?”
Eric sighs. “Turtle called you.”
“Yeah, he called me. Yeah. Unlike you, he called me because he’s my friend. And I don’t know what exactly that makes us, E, except -”
“You wanna keep yelling or you wanna give me a chance to explain?”
There’s a pause. “Both,” Vince says, “but I can take a break to hear your excuses. But in person, I’m not letting you fucking pussy out on this. You wanna quit, then be a man and tell me in fucking person at least.”
“Fine,” Eric says, feeling weary. “You at the house?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.”
When he gets to the house, Vince is waiting in the driveway, and he opens the passenger’s door and climbs in. “Your place,” Vince says. “Unless you want Turtle and Johnny listening at the door.”
“Good point,” Eric says, and he whirls back through the gates. The ride over is silent and awkward and, unless Eric’s completely wrong, very hostile. He asks once if Vince wants to get a coffee on the way or anything, and Vince just shakes his head, a mute no, so Eric speeds on. He feels like everything he said in their fight and everything Vince might be thinking about this move - which, probably, seems like the worst kind of betrayal - is right there, floating between them, and he has a terrible feeling like it’s totally up to him to set things right. Vince, after all, isn’t really a take-charge kind of guy. But he can’t think of anything to say, not yet; his brain is still struggling with the idea that they’re really going to do this, they’re going to have the fight they should have had a year ago, the one that either ends everything or fixes some of what’s been broken.
He feels the same strange mixture of pride and shame that he always feels when he leads Vince up to his condo. It’s not the nicest place in the world - location-wise, it’s a step up from the place Drama had a few years back, but it’s small and not well-appointed, compared to Vince’s elegantly decorated house. Eric’s put things together as best he can. He doesn’t have the money Vince does, and even if he did - well, his priorities would be different. They always have been.
Vince clears his throat. “You have any beer?”
Eric shakes his head, even though he’s pretty sure he does, and instead offers to make coffee. No way is he doing this on anything but the clearest head. He goes to the kitchen and futzes with the coffeemaker until he has enough for both of them, then adds sugar to Vince’s and milk to his own and carries them back to the living room, where Vince is still standing, frozen. He takes the cup and drops onto the couch, somehow not spilling his coffee, and Eric takes a seat on the edge of the armchair. Vince is looking around like he’s never been here before, which, as a stalling tactic, isn’t so bad, Eric decides. He wishes he could get away with it. Instead, he clears his throat.
“So, you wanna start yelling now, or you want to finish your coffee first?” he asks.
Vince says, very clearly, “You can’t move to New York.” Eric blinks, not sure how to respond to that, and then Vince looks up at him. His expression is a mix of things - he’s asking, he’s telling, and clearly, he’s confused.
“Why not?”
“We’ve got a movie to do,” Vince says.
Eric rolls his eyes. “Bullshit,” he says. “You can do that without me. All of the business stuff is tied up, and Ari can handle anything -”
“I don’t want you to go.” Eric stops, not sure how to take that. It looks like Vince isn’t quite sure about how it should be taken, either. He turns, finally, and looks at him, even sets his cup down. “You remember New Year’s Eve, I called you?” Eric nods. “And I wanted to talk about some stuff?” He nods again. “Let’s have that talk now.”
“Uh - OK.”
Vince sits forward. “I wanted - fuck, I had this all planned.”
Eric’s feeling nervous and confused, and he can’t stop fiddling with the spoon in his coffee. For months he’s been wanting to hear what Vince’s deal is; now, he thinks he could go forever without hearing what’s on his mind. “Had what all planned?”
“This talk. We were going to go to dinner and I was going to say, I was going to tell you - ” Vince laughs to himself, then looks up. “E, I think I’m interested in you.”
Eric blinks. This is not where he thought this talk was going. Not even Shauna’s guarantee that Vince would come around convinced him they’d ever get here. But maybe he’s misunderstanding. “Interested?” he manages, though in a squeaky voice unlike his own.
“In a sex way,” Vince says, and Eric nearly drops his coffee.
“OK,” he says, setting his cup next to Vince’s, “OK. Um. Let’s - you were going to tell me this on New Year’s?”
“I think I realized it on New Year’s,” Vince says. “I was with this girl - beautiful girl, really hot - and it was midnight and we were making out, and all I could think was I wanted you there. I wanted to go home and find you waiting, you know?”
At home waiting. Well. That’s not exactly good news. “That’s - that’s really sweet, Vin, but -”
“And I think that’s why Lucas made me so crazy,” he says. “Because - why him, you know? After all these years - and if you knew, all along - why him, E?”
Eric shrugs. “I didn’t think you were interested,” he says honestly.
Vince rolls his eyes. “You saw me with Tommy, you knew I -”
“I don’t mean in guys, Vince,” Eric says. “I mean in me. And - even past that, you’ve hardly ever shown any sign of wanting a serious relationship with someone. And you know that’s how I’m wired.”
“I do,” Vince says, “and I’m OK with that.”
“You - what?” Eric says.
“I’ve been with Anita for like six months now,” Vince says. “And according to your theory, that’s basically just a sign of how well we could work.”
Eric swallows and has to look away from Vince’s strangely eager, open face. “OK. So, you’re saying you, like, you like me.”
“What is this, high school?” Vince says. “Ooh, I like you.”
“It feels a little like high school, yeah,” Eric says, “in that I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”
“E,” Vince says, and he puts his hand on Eric’s knee. Eric is surprised by how weird that feels, how awkward. “Say it back.”
“What?” he says, shaking his head, trying to get a grip on things. He thought he was going to get yelled at, and instead - instead, Vince is coming on to him, Vince is asking him to - “Yeah, OK, I want you, too,” Eric says, and Vince grins.
“Duh,” he mutters, and kisses him.
It’s a pretty sloppy kiss - Eric is caught by surprise, and he pulls back at the same time Vince lurches forward, and so it’s more like Vince is kissing his bottom lip than that they’re actually kissing. Vince pulls back and laughs a little, shaking his head.
“Vin,” Eric says, putting his hand on Vince’s shoulder, and Vince looks up. It’s the look from that night a few months ago, a sort of half-curious, half-wanting look that Eric’s seen his entire life and never known exactly how much he loves. It’s Vince saying, whatever, man, whatever you think, I’m on board. So Eric cups his face, and when Vince’s eyes close he leans down to kiss him, and this time, it’s perfectly on target. Vince’s hands slide up and onto Eric’s shoulders, and then he’s slowly pushed back in the chair, Vince stretching out over him, somehow balancing on one knee while they keep kissing and touching. Eric runs his hands into Vince’s hair and tugs him lightly back, and when Vince’s eyes open, he starts smiling.
“That was better,” Vince says, and Eric laughs.
“Coffee breath,” he accuses.
“I wanted booze,” Vince says, and kisses him again.
“Hang on.” Eric moves his hands down between them, pushing gently on Vince’s chest. “We weren’t through talking, I don’t think.”
Vince smirks. “We’ve been talking our whole lives.”
“Get on the fucking couch,” Eric snaps, and Vince obliges with a laugh. Eric still feels completely wound up, like everything is swirling around him and anything could happen next, but Vince looks completely relaxed. He kicks his feet up and bends an arm behind his head.
“You know, I love your place,” Vince says, gazing up at the ceiling. “I really do. It’s - it reminds me of home.”
“Thanks,” Eric says, shaking his head. “I’ve seen home for you, so -”
“No, I mean - it’s comfortable.” He snuggles down into the couch. “Everything here, it’s here because you like it, it’s your stuff. No random décor, just - E.” He turns his head and grins in this blinding, friendly way that makes Eric smile back just automatically. “I like it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eric says. “You really - you mean this, don’t you?”
“What, about the furniture?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Vince props himself up on one elbow. “E, do you know, do you even get it? I feel great about this. When Turtle said you were gonna move, I - it just finally clicked for me. In that fight, all that stuff you said - that’s true. She was totally my excuse, I mean, you’re right. You’re always right, it’s sort of what’s charming about you.”
Eric’s smiling so big it’s almost painful. “Can I get some of this in writing?”
“Why don’t you come over here,” Vince says, patting the side of the couch, “and I’ll tell you what else is charming.”
“Jesus,” Eric says. “Like ten minutes ago, I thought you were coming here to, like, break up with me. I mean, you know what I mean.”
“What, because of the fight? Or because you were gonna quit on me like some stupid pussy?”
“And because you’ve been treating me like a space alien for six months.”
Vince frowns. “Well, you’ve kind of been acting like one.”
Eric’s first instinct is to lash out, but he’s still got the smell of Vince’s cologne in his nostrils and on his skin, and so he pauses before he speaks. “What?” he says, trying to sound more curious than accusatory.
“I’ve known you more than twenty years, now,” Vince says, “and I never had any idea about you.”
“Yeah,” Eric says ruefully, “I sort of caught that when I came out to you guys.”
Vince lays back. “Not my best day, I know. But you gotta admit - it was sort of out of nowhere.”
“The other guys knew,” Eric says, and Vince scoffs. “No, seriously.”
“The other guys tried to convince me it was an elaborate joke,” Vince says. “They thought you were doing it as some kind of bet.”
“Huh.” That actually explains a lot, Eric thinks, because - well, he’s never thought of Drama and Turtle as particularly perceptive. “So how’d you know it wasn’t a joke, then?”
Vince shrugs. “You liked Luke. I mean - you really liked him. Like you always do.”
“Yeah,” Eric agrees. “I did.”
“So - can I ask you something, then? What are you going to do about Travis?”
Eric sighs. “Fuck,” he says. “I don’t know. What are you going to say to Anita?” Vince shrugs again, and Eric shakes his head. “No. No way. You can’t just stop with her, not your usual shit, all right? That girl has expectations.”
He groans. “What, you want I should marry her just so I don’t hurt her feelings? That’s gonna make us getting it on a little more difficult.”
“No, I’m just saying - you have to be a human being about this one, all right?”
“So tell me,” Vince says, leaning forward, his gaze intent. “If she’s really girl you, how would you want me to end things?”
And that’s not a conversation Eric wants to have at all. So he says, “Let me think about it.”
“While you’re thinking,” Vince says, and again pats the couch, “can we please make out now?”
He looks down at Vince, who’s positively preening, arching his back so his shirt slides up, licking his lips - damn. Maybe it should be alarming, how fast Vince can go from angry to seductive, but Eric knows this is how it’s always worked for him. He’s been watching Vince for more than 20 years. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of joke?” Eric says, standing up.
“Because here in a minute, I’m gonna blow you,” Vince says. “I think there’s some law about never joking about a blow job.”
“If there isn’t, there should be,” Eric says. He sits at the other end of the couch and starts to lean over, and it’s awkward and they both almost fall off at least once before Eric’s even close to Vince’s face.
Vince laughs, and Eric feels strangely annoyed. “Maybe there should be some law about making out on the couch once you’re over thirty,” he says, starting to pull back.
“Yeah, like it can be fun,” Vince says, and he pulls Eric back down. Eric goes willingly, even though he feels a little unsteady until he gets his legs between Vince’s and then, then it’s stable. Then it’s OK. And Eric relaxes into it, and then it hits him - he’s making out with Vince. Oh god, he thinks, and then he says it, and Vince grins and they somehow flip over.
“I need to tell you something,” Vince says, mouthing Eric’s cock through his jeans.
“Is this the time?” Eric asks. “‘Cuz whatever you say - I can’t promise I’m gonna remember.”
Vince laughs and his fingers nimbly unstrap Eric’s belt, and after that he really, really can’t pay attention. Vince unzips Eric’s jeans and the sound seems unnaturally loud; Eric has a crazy thought like he should have turned on the stereo or something, like the moment isn’t appropriately romantic. Because - God - this should be the best thing ever, this should be the greatest lay of his life, right here, Vince touching him. His hands are gentle on Eric’s thighs, and then they move to his cock, stroking a few times, his fingers dry and a little rough, and the sensation isn’t exactly nice. Eric grunts and sees Vince look up, and something about that, seeing Vince’s chin hovering just by Eric’s navel, well, holy God, that’s hot. Vince smirks, then licks his lips, and Eric groans. “I thought you might like that,” Vince whispers, and then he ducks his head and kisses the tip of Eric’s dick.
Eric is suddenly harder than he’s ever been in his life. His hands spasm up and he just stops himself from grabbing Vince’s hair, because Eric hates it when guys get pushy and he won’t do that to Vince, not now, not during their first time. Vince licks him from tip to base, then back, and he takes the tip about an inch or two into his mouth a few times. It’s not enough, not really, but it’s so hot just to see Vince sucking him that when Vince strokes him again and then makes an impossibly lewd slurping sound, Eric comes. Vince pulls back and swallows, and Eric doesn’t miss the look of surprise - the slight wince - on his face before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “So that thing I was going to tell you,” Vince says, easing back up next to Eric. He slides in between Eric and the back of the couch, and Eric barely has to move to make room. Fucking skinny freak, Eric thinks affectionately.
“What’s that?” Eric shifts around and gets his boxers pulled back up, doesn’t mess with his fly yet.
Vince kisses the side of Eric’s head, and Eric turns, kisses Vince, tastes a little sourness there. “I’ve never done that before,” Vince whispers.
Eric pulls back and meets Vince’s eye. “You’ve - what?”
Vince is still touching him, rubbing his chest under his shirt, nuzzling his neck. “Never blown anyone,” Vince says.
“You’re a virgin?” Eric asks.
Vince laughs. “Hardly,” he says. “I just - I’ve done other stuff, lots of other stuff, but never that. I never had to,” he says, and shrugs. Eric wants to ask about the other stuff, but, well, he figures that can be a discovery for later.
“Never,” Eric says, just to clarify, and Vince says, “I never wanted to, before,” and Eric kisses him again. He can feel that Vince is hard, and when Vince shifts close to him, Eric snags the waist of his pants. He draws Vince over, so that Vince’s leg slides between Eric’s, his dick in line with Eric’s thigh. Eric knows how this feels, this perfect friction. He licks his hand and then slips it inside Vince’s loose pants, where there’s no underwear to get in his way. He strokes him and watches Vince gasp, then sees his lip thin into a neat pale line, and Eric nudges him, kisses him, and Vince opens his mouth and actually fucking clings to Eric’s shoulders as he comes. And then, to Eric’s surprise, Vince goes completely limp on top of him.
“Vince?” he asks, and Vince groans softly. Eric laughs, draws his hand back and wipes it on his own shirt. He rubs Vince’s back until he groans again, coming around, and Eric kisses his temple.
“Welcome back,” Eric says.
“Oh, Jesus,” Vince whispers into the crook of Eric’s neck. “That’s embarrassing.”
Eric smiles. Sure, this wasn’t the greatest sex ever, but he feels strangely hopeful. Strangely - wonderful. They’ll figure this out. They’ve managed to get each other off without the world ending, that’s gotta mean something. “You don’t usually black out, do you? Because if I’d known, I’d have spent more time worrying over the years.”
“Not usually,” Vince says. “Guess I was kind of geared up.”
“What, Erica hasn’t been giving you much action, recently?”
“Well, yeah,” Vince says, his voice heavy, sleepy, “but - I don’t know. I think - I mean, that wasn’t even that hot.” Eric laughs. “No offense,” Vince says quickly, turning to kiss Eric’s cheek sloppily.
“Hey, first-time blowjob versus expert handjob, I think we’re probably even on the hotness,” Eric says. “Though I managed to stay conscious.”
“You’re a knock out, what can I say,” Vince murmurs. “Can I sleep now or do you need to talk more?”
“By all means.”
Vince settles in, his head now resting on Eric’s shoulder, his arm across Eric’s chest heavy but, right now, not unwelcome. Eric closes his own eyes, too; he feels sleepy and keyed-up in even amounts, but Vince’s warm presence might win him over to resting.
“Hey,” Vince says, his voice soft, “can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“About Travis.”
Eric sighs. “What about him?”
Vince doesn’t say anything, but his thigh shifts, grazes Eric’s crotch, and Eric grunts and then gets it. He laughs. “No,” he says, “I was just saying that to get at you. He’s not actually bigger.”
“I didn’t think so,” Vince says, and he snuggles in again.
Eric smiles. “It’s funny that you’re more offended by that.”
“I know Luke’s smarter than me,” Vince says. “Whatever. You’re smarter than him, so I still win in the end.”
Eric turns and kisses Vince, and Vince smiles sleepily when he pulls back. “OK, nap time,” he says.
“You started the talking,” Eric says, and Vince grumbles but doesn’t say anything more. Soon, he’s asleep, and Eric listens to him breathing, just lays there, still smelling musk and sweat on them both, and falls asleep with his own head tucked up next to Vince’s shoulder.
Breaking up is, it turns out, not so hard to do. Eric calls Travis the next day and asks if they can get together, and when Travis suggests lunch, Eric says, “No, uh, why don’t you come over here, or I can -”
“Oh,” Travis says, and then laughs. “Somewhere we can talk, huh? Is it the talk I think we’re gonna have?”
Eric rubs his neck. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
“Eric, it’s cool,” he says. “I kind of figured. Just tell me - is it me, or is it him?”
He sighs. “Him.”
Travis laughs again. “You know what, I’m kind of happy for you.”
Eric looks over at his bed, where Vince is sitting cross-legged, watching him pace around with the phone. “Yeah, really?” Eric asks, and Vince raises an eyebrow, like, see, I told you.
“Really,” Travis says. “Tell him I said hi. Next time I’m in town, let’s all get drinks.”
“That’d be cool. OK.” Eric turns so he’s not facing Vince, not even sure what to say but feeling like he needs to say something, to let Travis know that it wasn’t just a decoy for him, that he really liked Travis. “Hey -” he starts.
“I know,” Travis says, his voice warm and serious. “Me, too. If things don’t work out, you let me know.”
“Sure thing,” Eric says, and then they say good-bye. He tosses the phone onto the bed and then follows it down, and Vince laughs and rubs his shoulders.
“Aw, was that so bad?”
“No,” Eric says, rolling onto his side to look at him. “Actually, it kind of makes me wonder if you haven’t had the right idea all these years.”
Vince shrugs. “See, this is what I’m saying.”
“Nuh-uh,” Eric says. “You gotta call her, you gotta do this right. OK?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vince says. He picks up his own phone. “Watch this. The master at work.” He dials and then stands as he says, “Hey, honey, how’s it going? Yeah. Yeah, I know, I’m sorry - things got crazy yesterday. Right. Yeah.” He looks at Eric and widens his eyes. “Hey, so listen, I was wanting to talk to you - really? Tonight, huh?” Eric grins. “Um, sure. Sure. No, no, why don’t you come over? Yeah. OK. Around eight. Great, see you then.” He turns his head away and says, fast, “Me, too,” before he hangs up. Then he falls back onto the bed, and Eric hovers near him.
“You’re so fucked,” he says. “That girl’s heart is about to be broken.”
“Can you just do it?” Vince asks. “Just - tell her, explain to her, that this isn’t me, that I -”
“That you don’t do monogamy?” Eric asks, and Vince rolls his eyes.
“That I don’t do people other than you,” Vince says. “Christ, she’s gonna be upset, isn’t she? There’s gonna be crying.”
“We’ll get you some tissues on the way,” Eric says, patting Vince’s stomach. Vince looks up at him. “What, of course I’m going along. I wouldn’t miss watching the master work.”
In the end, Eric goes along but stays out of sight in the kitchen while Vince and Anita talk in the living room. There’s crying, and there’s some very awkward talk around the issue from Vince, who actually says, “I swear it’s not you, it’s me, it’s so me,” and then finally, Anita leaves. Eric watches her sit in her car for a moment, composing herself, her hands wiping over her eyes. His heart goes out to her. He wishes he knew someone to set her up with, wishes he knew a way to promise her that someday she’ll find someone, that sometimes the good people do win in the end.
Vince comes in and joins Eric at the window, puts his arms around him from behind. He says, “We can’t ever break up, OK? Because then I’ll probably cry,” and Eric smiles and nods. Right now, he can’t think about what that would look like, how heartbroken he would be. That’s the difference between him and the girl in the driveway; her guy is still out there, but Eric’s is right here. He knows this from years of wanting, from years of settling and telling himself it wasn’t possible. There’s no one else for him. This is as good as it can ever get. It’s not something he can say to Vince, not now, not yet, so he just leans back into Vince, a little, and Vince kisses his neck. “Don’t worry about her,” he says. “Someday, her Vince will come.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ that’s lame,” Eric says as Vince hums the song against his neck.
“Mm-hm.” Vince kisses him again and slides his hands under Eric’s shirt. “Bad stuff over, let’s make out more,” he says, and Eric laughs.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
[The End]