fic exchange: I Lost My Place But I Can’t Stop This Story
Reminder: I'm just posting the fics, I didn't write them! All authors will be revealed at the END of the exchange. :)
Written by: exmptfromsanity
Title: I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story
Rating: PG-13 - R
Pairing: Cash/Singer with several background pairings.
Recipient: Lizzy / xhrkbhrl
Summary: Cash and Alex have been part of the circus together since they were fourteen years old. The problem is, eventually things change. Alex isn't so sure that he can handle that.
Author Note: Yeah, since this is AU calling him Singer doesn't really make sense.
Alex chalked up his hands, staring up at the bar as he rubbed them together. It was quiet, still far too early for most of the gang to be awake. He climbed onto the mounting block and launched himself up to grab the trapeze bar, sending it swinging back and forth on its ropes.
His muscles stretched and screamed with protest but he kept going. Slowly, they loosened as he moved, flipping himself around the bar. He rotated, gripping the bar with his hands, and switched to wrap his knees around the ropes.
The routine was branded into his brain. He did as many of the tricks as he could without Marshall. He lost himself in the routine and didn't realize how much time had passed until a sleepy voice called up from the floor.
"If you fall, I am so not going to catch you."
Alex swung around and let go of the bar, catching his knees around it as he dropped to hang upside down, letting the swinging bar slow down as he stared down at Cash.
"Christ, can you not?" Cash called up. He hated heights, which Alex knew. Seeing Alex swinging up there, especially without Marshall waiting to catch him, made Cash squirm.
"What?" Alex teased, letting a wide grin cover his face.
Cash frowned up at him. "How many times have you gotten told off for being up there with no one else around, huh? Come down before you fall."
Alex grabbed onto the bar with his hands, rolling back and dropping himself nimbly to the ground in front of Cash. "Morning," he said, dropping onto a hay bale.
Cash held out a cup of bad, circus coffee, which Alex gladly accepted. "What are you doing up so early?" Cash finally asked, after a long silence had stretched between them. It hadn't been uncomfortable; they'd known each other too long for that.
Alex shrugged. "I woke up, couldn't fall back asleep."
"You could have come and woken me up."
"And incurred Johnson's wrath? I'll pass, thanks."
Cash snorted. "Remember when we all used to share a trailer during the summer?"
"We were fourteen." Alex laughed. "Marshall was like four feet tall. And I was still scared of Johnson back then. I mean, he got Bella to pick you up with her trunk and carry you around the tent for half an hour because you short-sheeted his bunk."
Cash snorted into his coffee. "Worth it."
"Yeah, well, back then that was like a million feet off the ground for you."
"Shut up." He shoved Alex. "What's really going on?"
"You think it's going to be different?" Alex asked.
The thing is, the two of them had been going to circus camp together since they were fourteen. Every summer Cash and Alex and Marshall met up in the little town outside of Vegas to train for a week and then go on a tour through the rest of the summer. The weekends and school vacations they spent together in between weren't enough. They'd grown up together, gone through everything together, and they were good at what they did.
Marshall and Alex had been thrown together the very first week of camp because they were good at tumbling. Back then Alex had been catching, but things had changed. Today the two of them were fluid: they made it look effortless.
Cash had been as much of a clown back then as he was now. And then there was Johnson.
Johnson's parents had owned the circus camp they all went to, and though they made him stay behind with relatives to go to school, he'd dropped out the day he turned sixteen. Then Cash had shown up at Alex's doorstep two days after graduation with his mom's old van with Marshall in the passenger seat. He'd left and hadn't looked back. After spending the summer with Johnson's family circus positions in the Nothing Rhymes With Circus group had opened up for them.
"No." Cash's voice cut through the memories.
Alex looked up. The circus had merged with another one, adding on more performers; a lion tamer, more clowns and acrobats. Today was the day that everything was finally coming together.
"Okay."
Cash grinned. He knew Alex way too well. "You're so lame man."
"You're both lame," someone called from the doorway.
Both of them looked up to find Brendon, their ring leader, or stage manager as he preferred to be called, walking across the ring. He looked like he'd been awake for a while; there were dark circles under his eyes. He seemed just as nervous as they were.
"Look who's talking." Alex got it out before Cash could and Brendon just rolled his eyes.
Cash looked Brendon up and down appraisingly. "Are Ryan and Spencer nervous wrecks too?"
"Wait until you see how dark Ryan's makeup is," Brendon muttered, rolling his eyes. "And don't piss Spencer off. Now, go make yourselves presentable, and be polite when they get here."
-
Chicagoland was a larger circus based out of - surprise, surprise - Chicago. Their stage manager, Patrick, was well-known for being strict, something Spencer and Brendon had never been. Everyone was worried about that.
Until they saw him.
Patrick Stump was short, with scruffy red hair that was covered with a fedora. He was arguing with a grinning man covered in tattoos but the tattooed man just picked up the hat and ruffled Patrick's hair. Patrick did little to dissuade him.
He sighed as he approached their little group, shaking Spencer, Brendon and Ryan's hands. "This is Pete." He nodded his head toward the other man. "He's on of our clowns and a fully-trained EMT."
Spencer smirked. "I don't know what it is with clowns and tattoos," he said with a nod in Cash's direction.
Introductions went well. Chicagoland also featured Joe and Andy, who were trapeze artists, but were perfecting a rope routine as not to step on Alex and Marshall's toes. There were Sisky and Butcher, who, like Cash, were clowns, but had a tightrope routine, and William, who had to have been the tallest clown Alex had ever seen. He and Gabe, who was even taller, had an acrobatic floor routine. And there was Jon, who was in charge of music.
Johnson, as usual, was late. However, he didn't show up alone. It was safe to say that no one was staring at the long-haired kid sitting on top of the elephant.
Spencer rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "This is Johnson and Bella," he muttered as Johnson slid down off of the elephant's back. He'd promised the night before not to bring her out until the afternoon, until everything was going well.
"She's beautiful," Patrick said, glancing to Johnson for confirmation before reaching out to rub her trunk.
"She's, umm... she's not part of the deal you bought," Spencer told him.
Patrick's brow furrowed.
"She belongs to Johnson, so she's only here as long as he stays."
Patrick nodded, reaching out to shake Johnson's hand. "It looks like you take good care of her."
"Yeah," Johnson answered carefully as another trailer pulled up, this one lugging what looked like two cages behind it.
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest as the new figure climbed out of the cab of the truck and headed toward them. At the same time Johnson responded to Spencer's glare. "See, I'm not that late."
The new kid's long, curly hair fell like a lion's mane around his head. "I told you I wasn't leaving until they finished their breakfasts," he said to Patrick before he even reached them.
Patrick just shook his head as Pete high-fived the kid.
"This is Ian, our lion tamer. Tokyo and Sierra are his tiger and lion, respectively."
Alex stared. This kid couldn't have been more than a few years older than Alex and Cash and he had two big cats in those extra trailers. Okay, maybe he was a little bit intimidated. He glanced over at Cash to find him staring hard at the new arrival before stepping forward to introduce himself.
"Hey, I'm Cash."
"Really?"
That was the response that Cash typically got to his name, but he didn't seem to be annoyed this time. "Yeah, long story," he replied. "Can I see the cats?"
A bright smile broke across Ian's face. "Sure."
Alex watched them walk away, biting his lip. The discussion he'd had with Cash that morning replayed through his head. He didn't notice Marshall calling for his attention until his partner pounded on his arm.
"Huh?" he turned his head back.
"Practice?" Marshall asked, probably for the third or fourth time. "Patrick wants to see the new routine we've been working on."
"Sorry, yeah." He followed Marshall into the tent, where Patrick was standing with Brendon.
The two of them were watching William and Gabe, who, despite their height, were kind of amazing in their tumbling.
"Alex and Alex," Patrick greeted them.
"Marshall," Marshall corrected him. "But, yeah."
"How long have you two been working together?"
They exchanged a glance and Alex replied, "Six years."
"Who catches?"
"Alex used to when we started," Marshall explained. "But I, umm... grew more."
Brendon let out a chuckle, but they were used to the teasing; Alex was tiny.
"Well, let's see it."
Alex hoisted himself up quickly. He was still pretty warmed up from earlier, but Marshall hadn't been out since they worked out the day before. He took a few minutes, pushing the swing then hung himself upside down to signify that he was ready.
Alex waited for that signal and quickly swung and let go. There was no hesitation: there hadn't been in years. There was just that moment where he was flying and completely free, and then Marshall's hands were closing around his wrists and they were swinging together. They'd been working on this routine for about three weeks, and almost all the bugs had been worked out. Alex always forgot that there were people watching when they practiced. His focus was on the routine and on Marshall.
Everything came back into focus when they dropped back to the ground simultaneously. It seemed they'd acquired an audience while they'd been up in the air, most looking at them appraisingly.
Alex just looked at Patrick. He wasn't keen on losing his spot.
"Nice execution," Patrick told them. He was trying to hide a smile. "Even better than the films Spencer showed me. How's your improvisation?"
"Shitty," Marshall said. "We might fuck around during practice but there's yelling involved. We don't pull anything new in a show without practice."
"That's what I like to hear," Patrick nodded.
"And practices are always monitored, always at least another person around." Brendon watched Alex as he spoke and Alex could feel himself blushing.
"Right." Patrick had clearly caught the exchange. "Let's go see what Johnson and Bella can do then."
And that's what the rest of the day was like, watching each performance and trying to work out the show. The rope routine that Joe and Andy had planned still needed a little bit of work. Aside from that, the only real problem was incorporating Cash into the clown routine, and carving out his own space. Once he and Pete brought up the idea of unicycles, all hell broke loose.
The call for dinner came early in the evening when the pizza arrived. Even though Spencer had given them specific instructions to hang around and make friends, the four of them, the Alexes and Cash, settled in the shade at the edge of the lot where Bella was grazing.
Cash tugged on Alex's hair as he sat down. "So Pete, definitely an evil genius."
"You two will get along perfectly," Johnson deadpanned.
Alex was the first to see Ian heading across the field toward them.
"Hey," he called out. "Mind if I join you guys?"
"That depends on if you mind sharing," Cash replied, eyeing the six pack that Ian had in his free hand.
Ian laughed, dropping to the ground and taking his own drink before passing the box to Marshall.
"Dude, that trapeze act was so much cooler than anything Joe and Andy can do," Ian told them.
"Thanks," Alex said, pulling out a beer for himself and handing one back to Cash.
"Whatever, man, you have a fucking lion in the ring with you," Cash scoffed.
It was true; Ian's act was pretty impressive. His girls each had at least a hundred pounds on him and they were intimidating.
Marshall kicked dirt at him. "You just hate the trapeze because you can't bear to watch it."
Cash glared. He liked to seem tough, but Alex and Marshall knew him too well. Exploiting his embarrassing little fear was always fun.
"I'm going to have to agree with Cash there," Ian said. "I like to keep my feet on the ground. So, how long have you guys been working together?"
"My parents own one of those circus camps," Johnson explained. "Cash started coming the summer he was thirteen, and Alex and Marsh the next year. We've all been doing this full-time since they finished school."
Alex thought back on it. He'd left home with almost a full ride to college waiting for him. His parents hadn't been happy with his decision, but they'd gotten over it to some extent. He felt like he'd been waiting for it really, for Cash and Marshall to show up and say ‘let's go' like they had. The four of them had spent four years in each other's personal space building up to that and two more since then.
"Hey dumbass, Ian asked you a question." Cash bumped him, bringing him back to reality. "What is with you today?"
The answer, if Alex was being honest, was that this was a huge transition for him and he was totally freaking out. It was the culture shock that going to college probably would have given him. It had all felt so fluid, continuing life with Cash, Marshall and Johnson. This setup actually felt different, bigger somehow than things had been before. Instead of dignifying Cash with a response he just turned back to Ian, who was watching the two of them with interest.
"What was that?"
-
"So, are you sure you're okay?" Marshall asked as they moved around their trailer later, getting ready for bed.
It was a dance they were familiar with, but with the familiarity came the fact that they knew each other inside and out. Marshall could see the tension pouring through Alex from a mile away.
"You're seriously not worried at all?" Alex asked, dropping down onto his bed.
"No."
Alex groaned and flopped back onto the pillows.
"Really, man, we have our act. It's not like we're starting over. We've still got Cash, and Johnson, and Brendon, Spence and Ryan. We've just got a whole bunch more people, too. They seem pretty cool. Ian's nice, Pete is funny as hell. Stop stressing, okay?"
He leveled a look at Alex, and Alex met his eyes, nodding slightly.
"Good." He pulled a t-shirt over his head and climbed into bed, opening a book in his lap.
Alex rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. His muscles felt sore in the good way. He was going to sleep well tonight. The door banged open and closed, and he heard a new set of footsteps.
"What's up?" Marshall asked.
"Ian and Johnson are talking shop," Cash muttered. "Vets and animal care and all sorts of shit I totally don't care about when I'm trying to sleep." He raised his voice a little. "Alex, you asleep?"
"No."
He didn't roll over, but heard Cash kick off his shoes and felt the bed dip. Cash nudged Alex over so that they both fit on the thin mattress and pressed right up against Alex's back without a word. The warmth was familiar, as was the weight of Cash's hand across his waist. Alex let out a sigh and the hand tightened. He started to drift off almost immediately. Maybe things weren't so different.
-
Cash was still curled up around his back when he woke up the next morning. Cash was his best friend, but he never got out of bed until the middle of the day without prodding. Alex needed to get up and moving or he would be tired all day.
He changed quickly, tying his hair back before exiting the trailer to find Marshall. It wasn't hard, he was talking with Sisky and Butcher, who were balancing on low-set, temporary tightropes set up outside.
"Hey man," Butcher greeted. "You an early riser too."
"Guess so," Alex agreed, looking at the tattoo that covered Butcher's chest. It was kind of cool, not like Cash's lame shit.
"You warm up yet?" he asked Marshall.
"A little." Marshall nodded.
"Half an hour?"
"Sure." Marshall went back to his conversation about how to balance on the low rope and Alex started into the tent. There had to be someone in there.
His eyes landed on the only person in the whole tent: Ian. He was cat-less, simply sitting at the edge of the circle.
He greeted Alex quietly, sleep still evident in his voice.
"Hey." Alex nodded toward the swing. "Are you gonna be in here for a while?"
"I can be." Ian nodded.
Alex smiled. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
"Thanks." He launched himself onto the swing and began to run through his warm up exercises. When he chanced glances down at the floor, he found Ian watching him with interest.
"Can I ask you a question?" he finally asked, having caught Alex staring back a bit too long.
Alex flipped himself up so that he was sitting on the metal bar, not looking at Ian upside down.
"Sure."
"You and Cash?"
"What about us?"
Ian raised an eyebrow. "Are you two..."
Alex caught his meaning before the silence lingered. His eyes went wide. "No. No, absolutely not. We've just, I mean we've been doing this since we were fourteen. We're close." He dropped down to the floor as he spoke.
Ian was blushing. "Sorry, I just thought that maybe when he went to your trailer last night... I guess I thought that was a regular thing."
It was. Alex and Marshall had shared a trailer with Cash and Johnson for four years, so they were used to a lot of them being crammed into a small space. They'd never quite been able to break themselves of that habit, sneaking off to see one another. Maybe Cash and Alex ended up in each other's beds a little more often, but that was just because they fit together. It wasn't his fault Johnson was all elbows and Marshall liked to splay out across the whole bed in his sleep. It was the two of them, but it didn't mean anything.
"No, we just go to each other a lot. Voice of reason, you know?"
Ian nodded and an awkward silence developed between them, neither really sure where to head a conversation like that. It was broken only when Marshall came back into the tent, followed closely by the train of clowns, all set on practice and perfecting new routines.
Alex couldn't help avoiding catching Cash's eye as he and Marshall sat down with Patrick to go over their routine before practice started.
-
"Ian asked about me and Cash this morning," he told Marshall as they were hanging lazily about twenty feet above the ground an hour later.
"You and Cash?" Marshall questioned.
"He thought there was something going on between us." He swung harder, ready to send himself over in Marshall's direction.
"Well, you two do cuddle a lot."
"Fuck you," Alex said with no venom. He let go of his swing only to feel Marshall's strong grip on his wrists a few precious seconds later.
"I'm just saying..." Marshall's tone was joking.
"We're close. Just like you and I are close, just like Johnson and I are close."
"Let me correct you there. You and I, we share a brain," Marshall said. They had to in order to pull off this routine. "I like to think I know you better than anybody else, but you and Cash have always relied on one another."
"I thought friends were supposed to do that." Alex shot back.
"I want these routines to be perfect on opening night you guys," Patrick called up to them. "Less talking, more practicing!"
Marshall let go, and Alex caught his swing with a practiced ease that, from the ground, looked graceful and effortless. In his focus, he missed Marshall's mumbled, "Friends doesn't even begin to cover it."
-
Alex spent the next three days focused on practicing and perfecting the routine. Saturday was the first show with the entire circus cast. He was so busy and so focused that he hardly noticed himself ignoring Cash.
Marshall and Johnson were constantly dragging him out to get to know their new family. William and Gabe, along with Pete, had, altogether, been playing clowns in different circuses longer than Alex had been alive. Pete also tended to let them in on secrets about Patrick, ways to get around his rules. Alex, in return, volunteered Spencer's weakness (read: Ryan), and that Brendon was pretty much as forgiving as he looked.
Andy and Joe were also more than happy to give up the main act as trapeze artists. They were getting older, and there had been a few close calls in the year before.
"He fucking slipped," Joe revealed. "Fucking dropped one of my arms."
"And I've apologized for this, like, a million times," Andy tossed back.
Obviously this was a very old argument.
Sisky and Butcher, however, were by far Alex's favorites. It had become a common practice to spend a few hours around twilight watching them try to teach both Marshall and Brendon on the slack tightrope they'd set up outside. It was hardly two feet off the ground and, as they consumed increasing amounts of alcohol, watching Marshall fall on his face always made Alex double over laughing.
The only reason he even noticed that he and Cash weren't interacting was that, as much as they were around each other, Cash seemed to be avoiding him too. He spent his time with Pete, or with Ian, plotting ridiculous clown pranks or scratching Tokyo the tiger behind the ears, respectively. Not once all week had he shown up at Alex's increasingly early morning practices or at the door to their trailer.
He and Cash had gone almost four full days without talking, a feat they probably hadn't managed since they were fifteen. And he had to admit, every time he walked by, fully engrossed in a conversation with Ian, it kind of stung.
-
Thursday night, as they were sitting around eating an actual dinner - thank God for Jon, who could actually cook - Patrick pulled into the lot behind the tent. He climbed out of the front seat, pulling with him a couple of thirty racks and a large paper bag. The group of them, gathered around the picnic tables went silent as Patrick set the bag down, bottles clanking obviously.
"Okay," Patrick said, his face serious in the silence. "Our first show is in two days. I want all of you sober on Saturday morning. Do your drinking tonight and get it out of the way. Seriously, if I see a drop of alcohol tomorrow night, I will fire you on the spot."
Alex chanced a glance in Pete's direction. His face was set as he looked at their ringleader. He was serious. Alex wouldn't dream of drinking the night before a show anyway, but tonight, tonight was a definite possibility.
Johnson took a handle of vodka as the group parted ways, while Alex grabbed a couple of beers. Marshall, Sisky and Butcher trailed after them. An upturned water bucket was quickly converted into a table and shot glasses appeared from somewhere.
Alex popped open a beer and was just raising it to his lips when Sisky snatched it away.
"Oh no, little Alex-shaped dude." He laughed and held the bottle out of Alex's reach. "We are getting you properly shit-faced tonight. None of this beer. Proper corruption."
Alex arched an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, or something like it. Nevertheless, he took the shot that Butcher shoved into his hand.
He looked at the clear liquid in the glass for a moment, watching Johnson toss one back.
"C'mon man." Marshall bumped his drink against Alex's, and Alex tipped the drink back, letting it burn on the way down and coughing a few times to clear his throat.
Sisky started laughing, pouring another round of drinks for all of them.
A few hours later, they had gone through the entire bottle and started in on some of the beer all of them had grabbed. Jon and Brendon had joined them, and Pete stumbled into their circle with a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand.
It was clearly the place to be on the circus' property.
"Dude, where is your buddy?" Pete asked, stumbling into him and actually sliding to the ground.
"Marshall's right there." He nodded toward the trailer steps.
"No, man, Cash Money." Pete said from the ground. He pulled Alex down with him. "Dude is fucking ridiculous, and he said he and Ian were gonna bring some Jager and more beer."
"You don't need more beer," Alex laughed.
"You do."
Alex shook his head, feeling the rush of the alcohol. He took hold of Pete's arm as he tried to stand up, probably to go in search of Cash himself.
"No, man. Stay here. I'll go find him."
A sly smile spread across Pete's face, "Tell him he owes me."
Alex started off away from the group, heading for Cash and Johnson's trailer. He chanced a glance over his shoulder once to see Pete full-out sprawled out on the ground, Butcher leaning over him and offering him a beer. No one stopped him and he was glad. He wanted Cash there and the weird dance around each other they'd been doing all week wasn't worth it. Opening night was Cash's favorite part of the summer, and they always celebrated together.
"Cash!" He banged on the door before pushing it open to find the trailer dark and empty. He let out a sigh and pulled the door shut as he backed out. Now he had to go searching the grounds in the dark. The amount he'd already drunk was going to hinder it, too. He stumbled down to the tent, which was dark and silent. He was getting jittery and tripped as he passed Spencer and Ryan's trailer. He could hear them yelling at one another and snorted. This always happened right before new tours.
He passed by one of the cat cages, looking in at the sleeping lion. He tapped on the side of the cage and she just opened her eyes lazily, her tail twitching but otherwise not moving. He continued around the cage to see if maybe they were hanging out in Ian's trailer.
As he rounded the corner, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. Cash had Ian's chest pressed up against the side of the trailer, his t-shirt pushed up over one shoulder and his pants down around his ankles. Cash's own shirt and pants were abandoned on the ground nearby. His hand was buried in Ian's curls, pulling his head back so that he could press his face in, sucking on Ian's neck. Ian's face was blissed out, his eyes closed and his mouth opened wide as he groaned.
Cash was sliding into Ian hard, other hand on his hip, holding him in place.
Something in Alex's gut twisted painfully, only tightening with each thrust of Cash's hips. He couldn't look away, hell, he couldn't even move. He just stared as Cash peeled his head back, pressing his forehead against Ian's neck and letting out a groan.
"Fuck," he growled, "Ian, fuck."
He snapped his hips forward sharply and Ian let out a high gasp, gripping the side of the trailer so hard his knuckles turned white.
The cat next to him suddenly growled, pouncing against the side of the cage. The movement was enough to jolt Alex out of his frozen position and he leapt away from the cage, a sound that could only be described as a squeak escaping his mouth.
Both of their heads whipped around and for a split second Alex's eyes locked with Cash's. He saw them widen fractionally before he was turning away, trying to regain his footing and enough traction to get out of there.
"Alex. Fuck, Alex wait-" Cash's voice rang out behind him, but Alex was running. He may have been tiny, but long limbs helped him put distance between them. He suddenly felt completely sober.
He stopped short in a quiet spot, bending forward and releasing the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He slid to his knees, coughing and gasping as he tried to hold himself together. He wiped at his mouth and took a few breaths, looking around to be sure Cash hadn't actually followed him. His eyes stung painfully.
He couldn't go back to his trailer. Cash would be there, Cash would be looking for him. He couldn't do that right now. Looking him in the eyes would only make him fall apart. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but it hurt.
When he could stand again, he made his way along the edge of the property, letting himself into the stall Johnson had built for Bella. The elephant stepped toward him, looking for attention, and he scratched her trunk absently as he sat down heavily on the floor. He ignored the wetness dripping down his face and just focused on Bella until the dark overwhelmed him.
When he woke up, Johnson was bent over him, shaking his shoulder lightly. There was light coming in from the doorway, and Alex's head felt like it was splitting in two. He groaned, pressing his face against his arm.
"Dude, you had way too much to drink last night."
"Fuck off." Alex groaned.
"No can do. Cash showed up looking for you last night and I told him that I'd send you around if I found you."
The scene from the night before came crashing back down on him and a pained gasp passed his lips. He winced away from Johnson's touch.
"Alex, are you okay?"
Alex pushed himself up off of the floor. "I've got to change and get to practice." He shuffled past Johnson, trying to ignore the splitting pain and hurrying back toward his trailer.
Three hours, two bottles of water and several Advil later, he was ready for practice with Marshall, who was much less hung over than he was. They went through the routine smoothly, without Marshall bringing up anything from the night before.
"Okay guys, that's good for today. Great work!" Patrick called up to them. "Get some rest."
"Not bad, man," Marshall said before he released Alex and, after a few slower swings, dropped himself back down to the ground.
Alex grabbed his swing and glanced down to find Cash waiting for him. Johnson. That asshole. Instead of dropping after Marshall, Alex swung himself around the swing, starting the same warm-up routine he usually worked through before his routine.
Cash was quiet for a few minutes. It surprised Alex that he was able to hold out for so long. Finally he sighed. "Are you ever going to come down here so I can talk to you?"
Alex stopped hanging upside down by his knees. "I don't want to talk to you."
"Alex, c'mon, you ran away last night. You've got to let me explain."
"Explain what?" Alex growled. He was annoyed, and he finally did drop himself down, landing nimbly on his feet and almost smirking as Cash cringed. "You fucked Ian, so what?"
"Alex..."
"You said things weren't going to change."
"They won't."
"Fuck you!" Alex shoved Cash hard enough to knock him to the ground before stalking out of the tent. He needed a shower, and a nap. Cash didn't follow.
-
It was almost dark when he let himself out the door of his trailer again. His stomach was grumbling, and he was hoping to maybe hold down some of the pizza that Jon had promised to make for dinner.
He'd only taken a few steps when he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey."
He turned to find Ian pushing off from the side of the trailer. He didn't say anything in return but also didn't turn to start walking again.
"Can I talk to you?" Ian asked.
Alex nodded dumbly. "I'm sorry for interrupting last night."
"No, I- you weren't," Ian stammered out.
"Umm... I'm pretty sure I was," Alex replied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness from creeping into his voice. He may not have slept around as much as Cash, but he was pretty sure that he knew what two guys looked like in the middle of sex.
"Alex, we were drunk."
"Listen, I'm mad at Cash, not you, and I really can't explain to you why. You two, I have no problem with it."
Ian looked at him incredulously for a moment before he let out a laugh. "Oh my God, you're both absolute idiots."
"Excuse me?"
"We wouldn't have slept together if we weren't both absolutely plastered. Jesus, Alex, you're all he's talked about all week. Everything we talked about I heard a story ‘one time Alex and I' or ‘Alex would love this.' Everything. I know you said there was nothing going on between the two of you but obviously if Cash is talking about you like that and you're this upset with him, well, obviously there's something there."
Alex shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Ian shrugged, "Okay. I just wanted you to know, there's nothing going on with me and Cash. And that he's really freaked out."
Alex just nodded his head. "I'm heading down to get some pizza. You coming?"
And that was the end of it. He and Ian walked down silently, and once they reached the crowd, Ian grabbed a seat on the bench next to Johnson, leaving the seat across from Cash open. Alex set his jaw, grabbing a slice of pizza and sitting down at the other table, next to Ryan, instead.
He was asleep before Marshall got back to the trailer that night, but the next morning when he woke up and rolled over, he looked up from his bed to see his partner, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him.
"We have to talk."
Alex sighed. It was early, and their show was in a few hours. He didn't want to start their summer off with Marshall angry at him; he tended to leave bruises on Alex's wrists when he was angry.
"I don't want to talk about Cash," he grumbled, draping an arm over his eyes.
"I don't care." Marshall sat down heavily on Alex's bed, pushing his arm away. "Do you remember two years ago when we came to get you?"
Alex nodded.
"So you remember how you told us to go without you?"
"No, I didn't."
Marshall laughed aloud. "Dude, you totally did. Even though you knew that you and me are a package deal, you told us that you couldn't do it. You told us you had to go to college and that you weren't a good enough performer anyway. And man, you wouldn't listen to a word I said."
And okay, maybe now it was starting to come back to him.
"So?" he asked, voice small and hoarse.
"So, when I stormed out, you talked to Cash. He told you that you were smart enough to make it if you went to college and, fuck, smart enough to make it if you didn't. He told you that you were more than good enough to perform and that he wanted you to come with us. He said we weren't going without you, and he got you to change your mind. He's the reason you came with us."
"He's not the only reason."
Marshall stared at him hard. "Look, I don't care that you didn't believe me, okay? But you've got to pull your head out of your ass and realize exactly why it is that you care so much that Cash slept with Ian. He needs to realize it too, I mean, he thought you were flirting with Sisky, and really, he's even worse than you are, always sneaking over here to crash with you."
Alex sat up quickly. "It's not like that. Cash and I aren't together like that!"
Marshall leveled him with a glare. "You and Cash have been together like that since the summer we were seventeen whether you realize it or not. Maybe without the label, but you've totally belonged to each other for three years now."
Alex glared back at him, not saying a word or giving him another inch.
Finally Marshall just sighed and stood up, kissing Alex on the forehead. "Just think about it, okay? I'll see you down at the tent for the show."
Alex watched Marshall leave the trailer before pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning his head down on them. Fuck.
It was one thing to be pissed at Cash for letting things change when this new circus came in, but it was another to realize that everyone around him knew that he was in love with his best friend when even he hadn't realized it.
If it had been a practice day, he would have locked the door to his trailer, but it wasn't. It was a performance day - opening day - and he couldn't afford to sit and wallow in self-pity. He took the longest shower he could before getting ready.
Ryan stared at him hard when he collapsed down into his chair. Alex knew he looked horrible, his hair still wet and a mess, his face that mix of exhaustion and stress.
"How do you want your makeup?" Ryan asked after a moment.
"Dark," he whispered.
Ryan pushed his hair back out of his eyes, looking closely at Alex.
"Don't," Alex said tensely. "Just don't."
"Okay," Ryan agreed, picking up a stick of eyeliner and reaching for Alex's chin to hold his face still.
-
The difference for the performance was an extra thirty feet. Rather than using a mounting block with a little bit of leverage, Alex and Marshall climbed up ladders to reach their swings. They were anywhere from fifty to seventy feet off the ground during their performance. Alex had always loved the thrill of the extra height, and even today, he was shaking a little bit with anticipation.
There was a rhythm to the show, starting off with Johnson and Bella. It was like a dance with the two rings going simultaneously, the clowns traveling back and forth, the pairs breaking off to do their things. Alex and Marshall went on early.
Alex rolled his neck, stretching the muscles as they waited to go on, Marshall next to him doing the same. They didn't speak: they didn't usually before they went on, but there was definitely an added tension there today.
Spencer motioned to them and they started out into the ring. "Good show," he muttered to both of them, his attention already back on the floor. They went out and bowed to the crowd before they started up their individual ladders.
Alex glanced over at where the clowns were proceeding along the outside of the ring, Cash and Pete leading them on a set of unicycles. Ian was holding court in the other ring with his two cats, gaining gasps from the crowd.
He turned back to the ladder and started climbing. What Marshall had said about Cash that morning was true, and he couldn't help but think back upon it.
He'd freaked out when Cash and Marshall had asked him to go with them, had given him the choice, and Marshall had been mad at him for hesitating. He'd stormed out of Alex's room, out of the house.
Cash had said everything that Marshall had told him that morning, but Marshall didn't seem to know that the two of them had been curled up on Alex's bed while he said it.
"What if this doesn't work, Cash?" he'd asked.
Cash had taken a moment and thought about it, before looking hard at Alex. "Then you'll still have me and it'll all be okay," he'd promised. Then, without a word, he'd leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Alex's.
And Alex had kissed back.
It had only lasted a moment, but when Cash had pulled back, all Alex had replied with was a breathless "okay." A few hours later, the three of them were on the road.
They'd never talked about it.
As Alex reached the platform, he took hold of his swing and took a deep breath. He looked out into the empty space and, after a moment, pushed off. He swung through the air, pulling a few solo tricks that were ingrained in his memory. The breeze, the sound of his heart thudding in his ears, were all calmingly familiar.
And then came the part where he let go. As he swung forward he half-heard the shout, but it was too late: his hands let go of his bar and he was out in open air just like they'd practiced.
But Marshall didn't catch him.
He'd find out later that their timing had been off, barely by a second. But that was more than enough. His fingers and Marshall's had brushed, and he'd seen the wide eyes and face as he started to fall.
It had been years since one of them had been dropped, and every single time it had been at practice. Alex had never fallen from the full height of a performance swing, and fear squeezed in around him. But there wasn't even time for a scream to rip itself from his throat before he was hitting the safety net. It was there for this situation, but he still hit it hard, and his breath rushed from his lungs, pain shooting from the points of impact.
He couldn't make himself move.
"Alex! Fuck, Alex!" The net shifted as Cash tugged himself up over the edge of it and reached out, grabbing hold of Alex's arms. Alex reached out in response, fisting his hands in Cash's shirt. He was still shaking, gasping for breath, and trying to process what had just happened.
"Fuck Alex, c'mon, say something!" Cash hissed.
He tightened his grip a little bit more and finally managed to get his windpipe to open back up. "Cash," he gasped, his voice wavering.
And then Brendon was there, gasping and looking about as terrified as Alex felt. "Are you okay?"
Alex just shook his head, not trusting his voice to string more than one word out.
"C'mon, let's get him offstage and let Pete have a look at him," Brendon said to Cash. They were efficient if nothing else, with plans for falls in injuries during shows.
Instead of pulling Alex off of the net and setting him on his feet, Cash just picked him up, carrying him out the nearest entrance. Alex would have been indignant and squirmed under any other situation, but he couldn't seem to get his body to stop shaking. He just pressed his face tight against Cash's neck.
"Alright, just put him down her." Pete's voice cut through the haze.
Cash set him down on Pete's stretcher and moved to step back, but Alex kept his grip on Cash's shirt tight.
"Okay," Cash said quickly. He got it. He sat down with Alex and looked over at Pete. "Can you-"
"I'll work around you, don't worry." Pete put his hand on the top of Alex's head, checking his pupils and running a comforting hand through Alex's hair at the same time.
"Hey kid, you're doing great. You hurt anywhere in particular?"
"My shoulder," Alex said, though it was muffled against Cash's chest.
"It looks like that was where you landed most of your weight," Pete said. Alex had never heard him speak seriously before. His tone was oddly soothing. "It's probably gonna be tender for a few days, you might have some bruising."
He lifted Alex's shirt and Alex let out a whine. Cash held on to his arm more tightly.
"Alex, I'm going to look at your shoulder a little bit, make sure you didn't mess it up too badly. It's probably going to be kind of uncomfortable."
Alex nodded.
As Pete finished his examination, poking and prodding at Alex's shoulder he spoke to Cash.
"I've never seen you run so fast."
"He fell, Pete. He's my best friend and he fell from fucking fifty feet in the air."
"He's okay."
It was then that Marshall finally arrived, finally got out of the tent. There were tears streaming down his cheeks as he grabbed Alex's arm.
"You were early. You were early, and fuck, Alex, I tried to catch you."
"I know." Alex hissed as Pete's thumbs pressed into his shoulder. "I was early, it was me. I'm... I think I'm okay."
"He's okay," Pete affirmed. "Get him out of here, away from the tent. The guys can do their old routine."
Cash started to step back, ready to let Marshall take over but Alex groped for his hand again. He held on tight and looked at Marshall, nodding, "I'm okay."
Marshall looked him up and down, as if he didn't believe him, before nodding. He turned his head, giving Cash a look before turning and heading back toward the tent.
Cash leaned on the cot in front of Alex. "Can you walk?"
"I think so."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Whichever trailer's closest," Alex said. He was pretty sure he could walk, but not so sure how far.
Cash stepped back, his grip forcing Alex to slide down off of the table. He walked slowly and couldn't help but realize he was still a little unsteady, leaning on Cash much more than he usually would have. Cash kept hold of his arm, his other arm sliding around Alex's waist. He was gripping Alex hard, probably harder than he realized.
When they made it to Cash and Johnson's trailer, Alex dropped down lightly onto Cash's bed without a word, rolling up onto the side of his body that wasn't still throbbing.
"Christ, Alex." Cash's voice came out raspy as the bed sank under his added weight.
Alex opened his eyes to find Cash looking very close to falling apart in front of him. "You fucking fell. You don't... you never fall."
Alex stared back for a moment. Cash was scared of heights as it was but he was never going to be able to watch him and Marshall do their routine again. He wanted to say something comforting, something to prove to Cash that he was okay.
"You slept with Ian," was what spilled out.
Cash stiffened, his jaw setting and he moved to stand up.
"No," Alex moved quickly, grabbing hold of his arm. The quick movement made his muscles scream in protest, and he winced, tightening his grip on Cash.
"You're fucking lucky you're hurt," Cash told him. He'd noticed the pained look and didn't try to get away again.
"That wasn't what I meant," Alex insisted.
"Then what did you mean?"
"You said no matter what changed, it would be okay, because I had you," Alex said, and it sounded cheesy and lame and pathetic and to be honest, he kind of wanted to hide as soon as he said it.
Cash was just staring at him. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah, well this week didn't feel like it," Alex said. He knew he sounded bitter. "And I think..." He sighed. Maybe he'd hit his head: he couldn't seem to get his thoughts straight.
"Alex?" Cash asked tentatively after a moment.
Alex pulled Cash closer by the front of his shirt and kissed him. He didn't know another way to get his point across. Cash gasped but didn't pull back. Instead, he kissed back harder than Alex was expecting, rolling him onto his back and biting at his lower lip. Alex's shoulder was shooting off sparks of pain, but he didn't care, because he suddenly felt so much better than he had for the entire week.
Cash pulled back with an audible pop. "You're an idiot," he breathed. "I hope you know that. Six years, Jesus."
Alex didn't say anything in response, just pulled Cash back down as tightly as possible, because fitting them together was warm and familiar. And when, after a moment, Cash started to grind down against his hip, Alex thought nothing had ever felt that right. He let out a groan, pushing his own hips up to meet Cash's.
Cash pushed harder, and as they worked out a rhythm of give and take, Alex wasn't surprised to feel his erection pressing against the seam of his pants.
His breath hitched in his throat when he realized Cash was even harder than he was.
"Cash." He rasped out the name, not sure what, exactly, he was asking for.
Cash seemed to know, though. One of his hands came down to grip Alex's hip, and he started rocking harder against Alex. His leg pressed harder, and stars began shooting off harder behind Alex's eyelids. He gripped Cash's shoulders hard, the pain in his own back all but forgotten. "Come on, Alex," Cash hissed, pressing his lips to Alex's neck, teeth scraping and raising a bruise.
Alex let out a long breath, turning it into a cry as his body betrayed him. He arched up against Cash as he came.
Cash continued to roll his hips as Alex fell back to the bed, stiffening a moment later, and breathing hard as he rolled off of Alex.
"Gross," Alex commented, still taking deep, gulping breaths.
Cash laughed, shaking his head and walking across the small space, stripping off his dirty clothes and pulling on a pair of boxers. He threw another pair at Alex, who was already stripping off his own shirt.
"Yeah, well, we'll just have to do it properly next time."
"Yeah," Alex said as Cash climbed onto the bed next to him. "Yeah, okay."
-
They'd been laying there for a good half hour when there was a knock on the door and before they could move much to cover themselves, Patrick stepped up the few stairs, arms crossed over his chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Sore," Alex said. "That's all."
"Did you two figure everything out then? Fix this mess that's been throwing you both off all week?"
"Yeah," Cash said, "We did."
"Good, because if shit like that ever happens again, I'm going to fire both of you on the spot. Got it?"
They both nodded.
Patrick just nodded to them. He was starting to remind Alex of Spencer: bossy and serious, but a big softie underneath.
He paused then, as he was stepping back to head out the door. "Your trailer smells like jizz."
Alex's eyes went wide and he was sure he was turning bright red as Cash just laughed. Patrick disappeared, closing the door behind him, and Alex rolled over, hitting Cash as hard as he could.
"Cash!" he squeaked.
Cash just shook his head. "Shut up," he said, leaning down and cutting off Alex's future protests with a kiss.
And okay, Alex didn't really want to protest that at all.
Written by: exmptfromsanity
Title: I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story
Rating: PG-13 - R
Pairing: Cash/Singer with several background pairings.
Recipient: Lizzy / xhrkbhrl
Summary: Cash and Alex have been part of the circus together since they were fourteen years old. The problem is, eventually things change. Alex isn't so sure that he can handle that.
Author Note: Yeah, since this is AU calling him Singer doesn't really make sense.
Alex chalked up his hands, staring up at the bar as he rubbed them together. It was quiet, still far too early for most of the gang to be awake. He climbed onto the mounting block and launched himself up to grab the trapeze bar, sending it swinging back and forth on its ropes.
His muscles stretched and screamed with protest but he kept going. Slowly, they loosened as he moved, flipping himself around the bar. He rotated, gripping the bar with his hands, and switched to wrap his knees around the ropes.
The routine was branded into his brain. He did as many of the tricks as he could without Marshall. He lost himself in the routine and didn't realize how much time had passed until a sleepy voice called up from the floor.
"If you fall, I am so not going to catch you."
Alex swung around and let go of the bar, catching his knees around it as he dropped to hang upside down, letting the swinging bar slow down as he stared down at Cash.
"Christ, can you not?" Cash called up. He hated heights, which Alex knew. Seeing Alex swinging up there, especially without Marshall waiting to catch him, made Cash squirm.
"What?" Alex teased, letting a wide grin cover his face.
Cash frowned up at him. "How many times have you gotten told off for being up there with no one else around, huh? Come down before you fall."
Alex grabbed onto the bar with his hands, rolling back and dropping himself nimbly to the ground in front of Cash. "Morning," he said, dropping onto a hay bale.
Cash held out a cup of bad, circus coffee, which Alex gladly accepted. "What are you doing up so early?" Cash finally asked, after a long silence had stretched between them. It hadn't been uncomfortable; they'd known each other too long for that.
Alex shrugged. "I woke up, couldn't fall back asleep."
"You could have come and woken me up."
"And incurred Johnson's wrath? I'll pass, thanks."
Cash snorted. "Remember when we all used to share a trailer during the summer?"
"We were fourteen." Alex laughed. "Marshall was like four feet tall. And I was still scared of Johnson back then. I mean, he got Bella to pick you up with her trunk and carry you around the tent for half an hour because you short-sheeted his bunk."
Cash snorted into his coffee. "Worth it."
"Yeah, well, back then that was like a million feet off the ground for you."
"Shut up." He shoved Alex. "What's really going on?"
"You think it's going to be different?" Alex asked.
The thing is, the two of them had been going to circus camp together since they were fourteen. Every summer Cash and Alex and Marshall met up in the little town outside of Vegas to train for a week and then go on a tour through the rest of the summer. The weekends and school vacations they spent together in between weren't enough. They'd grown up together, gone through everything together, and they were good at what they did.
Marshall and Alex had been thrown together the very first week of camp because they were good at tumbling. Back then Alex had been catching, but things had changed. Today the two of them were fluid: they made it look effortless.
Cash had been as much of a clown back then as he was now. And then there was Johnson.
Johnson's parents had owned the circus camp they all went to, and though they made him stay behind with relatives to go to school, he'd dropped out the day he turned sixteen. Then Cash had shown up at Alex's doorstep two days after graduation with his mom's old van with Marshall in the passenger seat. He'd left and hadn't looked back. After spending the summer with Johnson's family circus positions in the Nothing Rhymes With Circus group had opened up for them.
"No." Cash's voice cut through the memories.
Alex looked up. The circus had merged with another one, adding on more performers; a lion tamer, more clowns and acrobats. Today was the day that everything was finally coming together.
"Okay."
Cash grinned. He knew Alex way too well. "You're so lame man."
"You're both lame," someone called from the doorway.
Both of them looked up to find Brendon, their ring leader, or stage manager as he preferred to be called, walking across the ring. He looked like he'd been awake for a while; there were dark circles under his eyes. He seemed just as nervous as they were.
"Look who's talking." Alex got it out before Cash could and Brendon just rolled his eyes.
Cash looked Brendon up and down appraisingly. "Are Ryan and Spencer nervous wrecks too?"
"Wait until you see how dark Ryan's makeup is," Brendon muttered, rolling his eyes. "And don't piss Spencer off. Now, go make yourselves presentable, and be polite when they get here."
-
Chicagoland was a larger circus based out of - surprise, surprise - Chicago. Their stage manager, Patrick, was well-known for being strict, something Spencer and Brendon had never been. Everyone was worried about that.
Until they saw him.
Patrick Stump was short, with scruffy red hair that was covered with a fedora. He was arguing with a grinning man covered in tattoos but the tattooed man just picked up the hat and ruffled Patrick's hair. Patrick did little to dissuade him.
He sighed as he approached their little group, shaking Spencer, Brendon and Ryan's hands. "This is Pete." He nodded his head toward the other man. "He's on of our clowns and a fully-trained EMT."
Spencer smirked. "I don't know what it is with clowns and tattoos," he said with a nod in Cash's direction.
Introductions went well. Chicagoland also featured Joe and Andy, who were trapeze artists, but were perfecting a rope routine as not to step on Alex and Marshall's toes. There were Sisky and Butcher, who, like Cash, were clowns, but had a tightrope routine, and William, who had to have been the tallest clown Alex had ever seen. He and Gabe, who was even taller, had an acrobatic floor routine. And there was Jon, who was in charge of music.
Johnson, as usual, was late. However, he didn't show up alone. It was safe to say that no one was staring at the long-haired kid sitting on top of the elephant.
Spencer rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "This is Johnson and Bella," he muttered as Johnson slid down off of the elephant's back. He'd promised the night before not to bring her out until the afternoon, until everything was going well.
"She's beautiful," Patrick said, glancing to Johnson for confirmation before reaching out to rub her trunk.
"She's, umm... she's not part of the deal you bought," Spencer told him.
Patrick's brow furrowed.
"She belongs to Johnson, so she's only here as long as he stays."
Patrick nodded, reaching out to shake Johnson's hand. "It looks like you take good care of her."
"Yeah," Johnson answered carefully as another trailer pulled up, this one lugging what looked like two cages behind it.
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest as the new figure climbed out of the cab of the truck and headed toward them. At the same time Johnson responded to Spencer's glare. "See, I'm not that late."
The new kid's long, curly hair fell like a lion's mane around his head. "I told you I wasn't leaving until they finished their breakfasts," he said to Patrick before he even reached them.
Patrick just shook his head as Pete high-fived the kid.
"This is Ian, our lion tamer. Tokyo and Sierra are his tiger and lion, respectively."
Alex stared. This kid couldn't have been more than a few years older than Alex and Cash and he had two big cats in those extra trailers. Okay, maybe he was a little bit intimidated. He glanced over at Cash to find him staring hard at the new arrival before stepping forward to introduce himself.
"Hey, I'm Cash."
"Really?"
That was the response that Cash typically got to his name, but he didn't seem to be annoyed this time. "Yeah, long story," he replied. "Can I see the cats?"
A bright smile broke across Ian's face. "Sure."
Alex watched them walk away, biting his lip. The discussion he'd had with Cash that morning replayed through his head. He didn't notice Marshall calling for his attention until his partner pounded on his arm.
"Huh?" he turned his head back.
"Practice?" Marshall asked, probably for the third or fourth time. "Patrick wants to see the new routine we've been working on."
"Sorry, yeah." He followed Marshall into the tent, where Patrick was standing with Brendon.
The two of them were watching William and Gabe, who, despite their height, were kind of amazing in their tumbling.
"Alex and Alex," Patrick greeted them.
"Marshall," Marshall corrected him. "But, yeah."
"How long have you two been working together?"
They exchanged a glance and Alex replied, "Six years."
"Who catches?"
"Alex used to when we started," Marshall explained. "But I, umm... grew more."
Brendon let out a chuckle, but they were used to the teasing; Alex was tiny.
"Well, let's see it."
Alex hoisted himself up quickly. He was still pretty warmed up from earlier, but Marshall hadn't been out since they worked out the day before. He took a few minutes, pushing the swing then hung himself upside down to signify that he was ready.
Alex waited for that signal and quickly swung and let go. There was no hesitation: there hadn't been in years. There was just that moment where he was flying and completely free, and then Marshall's hands were closing around his wrists and they were swinging together. They'd been working on this routine for about three weeks, and almost all the bugs had been worked out. Alex always forgot that there were people watching when they practiced. His focus was on the routine and on Marshall.
Everything came back into focus when they dropped back to the ground simultaneously. It seemed they'd acquired an audience while they'd been up in the air, most looking at them appraisingly.
Alex just looked at Patrick. He wasn't keen on losing his spot.
"Nice execution," Patrick told them. He was trying to hide a smile. "Even better than the films Spencer showed me. How's your improvisation?"
"Shitty," Marshall said. "We might fuck around during practice but there's yelling involved. We don't pull anything new in a show without practice."
"That's what I like to hear," Patrick nodded.
"And practices are always monitored, always at least another person around." Brendon watched Alex as he spoke and Alex could feel himself blushing.
"Right." Patrick had clearly caught the exchange. "Let's go see what Johnson and Bella can do then."
And that's what the rest of the day was like, watching each performance and trying to work out the show. The rope routine that Joe and Andy had planned still needed a little bit of work. Aside from that, the only real problem was incorporating Cash into the clown routine, and carving out his own space. Once he and Pete brought up the idea of unicycles, all hell broke loose.
The call for dinner came early in the evening when the pizza arrived. Even though Spencer had given them specific instructions to hang around and make friends, the four of them, the Alexes and Cash, settled in the shade at the edge of the lot where Bella was grazing.
Cash tugged on Alex's hair as he sat down. "So Pete, definitely an evil genius."
"You two will get along perfectly," Johnson deadpanned.
Alex was the first to see Ian heading across the field toward them.
"Hey," he called out. "Mind if I join you guys?"
"That depends on if you mind sharing," Cash replied, eyeing the six pack that Ian had in his free hand.
Ian laughed, dropping to the ground and taking his own drink before passing the box to Marshall.
"Dude, that trapeze act was so much cooler than anything Joe and Andy can do," Ian told them.
"Thanks," Alex said, pulling out a beer for himself and handing one back to Cash.
"Whatever, man, you have a fucking lion in the ring with you," Cash scoffed.
It was true; Ian's act was pretty impressive. His girls each had at least a hundred pounds on him and they were intimidating.
Marshall kicked dirt at him. "You just hate the trapeze because you can't bear to watch it."
Cash glared. He liked to seem tough, but Alex and Marshall knew him too well. Exploiting his embarrassing little fear was always fun.
"I'm going to have to agree with Cash there," Ian said. "I like to keep my feet on the ground. So, how long have you guys been working together?"
"My parents own one of those circus camps," Johnson explained. "Cash started coming the summer he was thirteen, and Alex and Marsh the next year. We've all been doing this full-time since they finished school."
Alex thought back on it. He'd left home with almost a full ride to college waiting for him. His parents hadn't been happy with his decision, but they'd gotten over it to some extent. He felt like he'd been waiting for it really, for Cash and Marshall to show up and say ‘let's go' like they had. The four of them had spent four years in each other's personal space building up to that and two more since then.
"Hey dumbass, Ian asked you a question." Cash bumped him, bringing him back to reality. "What is with you today?"
The answer, if Alex was being honest, was that this was a huge transition for him and he was totally freaking out. It was the culture shock that going to college probably would have given him. It had all felt so fluid, continuing life with Cash, Marshall and Johnson. This setup actually felt different, bigger somehow than things had been before. Instead of dignifying Cash with a response he just turned back to Ian, who was watching the two of them with interest.
"What was that?"
-
"So, are you sure you're okay?" Marshall asked as they moved around their trailer later, getting ready for bed.
It was a dance they were familiar with, but with the familiarity came the fact that they knew each other inside and out. Marshall could see the tension pouring through Alex from a mile away.
"You're seriously not worried at all?" Alex asked, dropping down onto his bed.
"No."
Alex groaned and flopped back onto the pillows.
"Really, man, we have our act. It's not like we're starting over. We've still got Cash, and Johnson, and Brendon, Spence and Ryan. We've just got a whole bunch more people, too. They seem pretty cool. Ian's nice, Pete is funny as hell. Stop stressing, okay?"
He leveled a look at Alex, and Alex met his eyes, nodding slightly.
"Good." He pulled a t-shirt over his head and climbed into bed, opening a book in his lap.
Alex rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. His muscles felt sore in the good way. He was going to sleep well tonight. The door banged open and closed, and he heard a new set of footsteps.
"What's up?" Marshall asked.
"Ian and Johnson are talking shop," Cash muttered. "Vets and animal care and all sorts of shit I totally don't care about when I'm trying to sleep." He raised his voice a little. "Alex, you asleep?"
"No."
He didn't roll over, but heard Cash kick off his shoes and felt the bed dip. Cash nudged Alex over so that they both fit on the thin mattress and pressed right up against Alex's back without a word. The warmth was familiar, as was the weight of Cash's hand across his waist. Alex let out a sigh and the hand tightened. He started to drift off almost immediately. Maybe things weren't so different.
-
Cash was still curled up around his back when he woke up the next morning. Cash was his best friend, but he never got out of bed until the middle of the day without prodding. Alex needed to get up and moving or he would be tired all day.
He changed quickly, tying his hair back before exiting the trailer to find Marshall. It wasn't hard, he was talking with Sisky and Butcher, who were balancing on low-set, temporary tightropes set up outside.
"Hey man," Butcher greeted. "You an early riser too."
"Guess so," Alex agreed, looking at the tattoo that covered Butcher's chest. It was kind of cool, not like Cash's lame shit.
"You warm up yet?" he asked Marshall.
"A little." Marshall nodded.
"Half an hour?"
"Sure." Marshall went back to his conversation about how to balance on the low rope and Alex started into the tent. There had to be someone in there.
His eyes landed on the only person in the whole tent: Ian. He was cat-less, simply sitting at the edge of the circle.
He greeted Alex quietly, sleep still evident in his voice.
"Hey." Alex nodded toward the swing. "Are you gonna be in here for a while?"
"I can be." Ian nodded.
Alex smiled. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
"Thanks." He launched himself onto the swing and began to run through his warm up exercises. When he chanced glances down at the floor, he found Ian watching him with interest.
"Can I ask you a question?" he finally asked, having caught Alex staring back a bit too long.
Alex flipped himself up so that he was sitting on the metal bar, not looking at Ian upside down.
"Sure."
"You and Cash?"
"What about us?"
Ian raised an eyebrow. "Are you two..."
Alex caught his meaning before the silence lingered. His eyes went wide. "No. No, absolutely not. We've just, I mean we've been doing this since we were fourteen. We're close." He dropped down to the floor as he spoke.
Ian was blushing. "Sorry, I just thought that maybe when he went to your trailer last night... I guess I thought that was a regular thing."
It was. Alex and Marshall had shared a trailer with Cash and Johnson for four years, so they were used to a lot of them being crammed into a small space. They'd never quite been able to break themselves of that habit, sneaking off to see one another. Maybe Cash and Alex ended up in each other's beds a little more often, but that was just because they fit together. It wasn't his fault Johnson was all elbows and Marshall liked to splay out across the whole bed in his sleep. It was the two of them, but it didn't mean anything.
"No, we just go to each other a lot. Voice of reason, you know?"
Ian nodded and an awkward silence developed between them, neither really sure where to head a conversation like that. It was broken only when Marshall came back into the tent, followed closely by the train of clowns, all set on practice and perfecting new routines.
Alex couldn't help avoiding catching Cash's eye as he and Marshall sat down with Patrick to go over their routine before practice started.
-
"Ian asked about me and Cash this morning," he told Marshall as they were hanging lazily about twenty feet above the ground an hour later.
"You and Cash?" Marshall questioned.
"He thought there was something going on between us." He swung harder, ready to send himself over in Marshall's direction.
"Well, you two do cuddle a lot."
"Fuck you," Alex said with no venom. He let go of his swing only to feel Marshall's strong grip on his wrists a few precious seconds later.
"I'm just saying..." Marshall's tone was joking.
"We're close. Just like you and I are close, just like Johnson and I are close."
"Let me correct you there. You and I, we share a brain," Marshall said. They had to in order to pull off this routine. "I like to think I know you better than anybody else, but you and Cash have always relied on one another."
"I thought friends were supposed to do that." Alex shot back.
"I want these routines to be perfect on opening night you guys," Patrick called up to them. "Less talking, more practicing!"
Marshall let go, and Alex caught his swing with a practiced ease that, from the ground, looked graceful and effortless. In his focus, he missed Marshall's mumbled, "Friends doesn't even begin to cover it."
-
Alex spent the next three days focused on practicing and perfecting the routine. Saturday was the first show with the entire circus cast. He was so busy and so focused that he hardly noticed himself ignoring Cash.
Marshall and Johnson were constantly dragging him out to get to know their new family. William and Gabe, along with Pete, had, altogether, been playing clowns in different circuses longer than Alex had been alive. Pete also tended to let them in on secrets about Patrick, ways to get around his rules. Alex, in return, volunteered Spencer's weakness (read: Ryan), and that Brendon was pretty much as forgiving as he looked.
Andy and Joe were also more than happy to give up the main act as trapeze artists. They were getting older, and there had been a few close calls in the year before.
"He fucking slipped," Joe revealed. "Fucking dropped one of my arms."
"And I've apologized for this, like, a million times," Andy tossed back.
Obviously this was a very old argument.
Sisky and Butcher, however, were by far Alex's favorites. It had become a common practice to spend a few hours around twilight watching them try to teach both Marshall and Brendon on the slack tightrope they'd set up outside. It was hardly two feet off the ground and, as they consumed increasing amounts of alcohol, watching Marshall fall on his face always made Alex double over laughing.
The only reason he even noticed that he and Cash weren't interacting was that, as much as they were around each other, Cash seemed to be avoiding him too. He spent his time with Pete, or with Ian, plotting ridiculous clown pranks or scratching Tokyo the tiger behind the ears, respectively. Not once all week had he shown up at Alex's increasingly early morning practices or at the door to their trailer.
He and Cash had gone almost four full days without talking, a feat they probably hadn't managed since they were fifteen. And he had to admit, every time he walked by, fully engrossed in a conversation with Ian, it kind of stung.
-
Thursday night, as they were sitting around eating an actual dinner - thank God for Jon, who could actually cook - Patrick pulled into the lot behind the tent. He climbed out of the front seat, pulling with him a couple of thirty racks and a large paper bag. The group of them, gathered around the picnic tables went silent as Patrick set the bag down, bottles clanking obviously.
"Okay," Patrick said, his face serious in the silence. "Our first show is in two days. I want all of you sober on Saturday morning. Do your drinking tonight and get it out of the way. Seriously, if I see a drop of alcohol tomorrow night, I will fire you on the spot."
Alex chanced a glance in Pete's direction. His face was set as he looked at their ringleader. He was serious. Alex wouldn't dream of drinking the night before a show anyway, but tonight, tonight was a definite possibility.
Johnson took a handle of vodka as the group parted ways, while Alex grabbed a couple of beers. Marshall, Sisky and Butcher trailed after them. An upturned water bucket was quickly converted into a table and shot glasses appeared from somewhere.
Alex popped open a beer and was just raising it to his lips when Sisky snatched it away.
"Oh no, little Alex-shaped dude." He laughed and held the bottle out of Alex's reach. "We are getting you properly shit-faced tonight. None of this beer. Proper corruption."
Alex arched an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, or something like it. Nevertheless, he took the shot that Butcher shoved into his hand.
He looked at the clear liquid in the glass for a moment, watching Johnson toss one back.
"C'mon man." Marshall bumped his drink against Alex's, and Alex tipped the drink back, letting it burn on the way down and coughing a few times to clear his throat.
Sisky started laughing, pouring another round of drinks for all of them.
A few hours later, they had gone through the entire bottle and started in on some of the beer all of them had grabbed. Jon and Brendon had joined them, and Pete stumbled into their circle with a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand.
It was clearly the place to be on the circus' property.
"Dude, where is your buddy?" Pete asked, stumbling into him and actually sliding to the ground.
"Marshall's right there." He nodded toward the trailer steps.
"No, man, Cash Money." Pete said from the ground. He pulled Alex down with him. "Dude is fucking ridiculous, and he said he and Ian were gonna bring some Jager and more beer."
"You don't need more beer," Alex laughed.
"You do."
Alex shook his head, feeling the rush of the alcohol. He took hold of Pete's arm as he tried to stand up, probably to go in search of Cash himself.
"No, man. Stay here. I'll go find him."
A sly smile spread across Pete's face, "Tell him he owes me."
Alex started off away from the group, heading for Cash and Johnson's trailer. He chanced a glance over his shoulder once to see Pete full-out sprawled out on the ground, Butcher leaning over him and offering him a beer. No one stopped him and he was glad. He wanted Cash there and the weird dance around each other they'd been doing all week wasn't worth it. Opening night was Cash's favorite part of the summer, and they always celebrated together.
"Cash!" He banged on the door before pushing it open to find the trailer dark and empty. He let out a sigh and pulled the door shut as he backed out. Now he had to go searching the grounds in the dark. The amount he'd already drunk was going to hinder it, too. He stumbled down to the tent, which was dark and silent. He was getting jittery and tripped as he passed Spencer and Ryan's trailer. He could hear them yelling at one another and snorted. This always happened right before new tours.
He passed by one of the cat cages, looking in at the sleeping lion. He tapped on the side of the cage and she just opened her eyes lazily, her tail twitching but otherwise not moving. He continued around the cage to see if maybe they were hanging out in Ian's trailer.
As he rounded the corner, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. Cash had Ian's chest pressed up against the side of the trailer, his t-shirt pushed up over one shoulder and his pants down around his ankles. Cash's own shirt and pants were abandoned on the ground nearby. His hand was buried in Ian's curls, pulling his head back so that he could press his face in, sucking on Ian's neck. Ian's face was blissed out, his eyes closed and his mouth opened wide as he groaned.
Cash was sliding into Ian hard, other hand on his hip, holding him in place.
Something in Alex's gut twisted painfully, only tightening with each thrust of Cash's hips. He couldn't look away, hell, he couldn't even move. He just stared as Cash peeled his head back, pressing his forehead against Ian's neck and letting out a groan.
"Fuck," he growled, "Ian, fuck."
He snapped his hips forward sharply and Ian let out a high gasp, gripping the side of the trailer so hard his knuckles turned white.
The cat next to him suddenly growled, pouncing against the side of the cage. The movement was enough to jolt Alex out of his frozen position and he leapt away from the cage, a sound that could only be described as a squeak escaping his mouth.
Both of their heads whipped around and for a split second Alex's eyes locked with Cash's. He saw them widen fractionally before he was turning away, trying to regain his footing and enough traction to get out of there.
"Alex. Fuck, Alex wait-" Cash's voice rang out behind him, but Alex was running. He may have been tiny, but long limbs helped him put distance between them. He suddenly felt completely sober.
He stopped short in a quiet spot, bending forward and releasing the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He slid to his knees, coughing and gasping as he tried to hold himself together. He wiped at his mouth and took a few breaths, looking around to be sure Cash hadn't actually followed him. His eyes stung painfully.
He couldn't go back to his trailer. Cash would be there, Cash would be looking for him. He couldn't do that right now. Looking him in the eyes would only make him fall apart. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but it hurt.
When he could stand again, he made his way along the edge of the property, letting himself into the stall Johnson had built for Bella. The elephant stepped toward him, looking for attention, and he scratched her trunk absently as he sat down heavily on the floor. He ignored the wetness dripping down his face and just focused on Bella until the dark overwhelmed him.
When he woke up, Johnson was bent over him, shaking his shoulder lightly. There was light coming in from the doorway, and Alex's head felt like it was splitting in two. He groaned, pressing his face against his arm.
"Dude, you had way too much to drink last night."
"Fuck off." Alex groaned.
"No can do. Cash showed up looking for you last night and I told him that I'd send you around if I found you."
The scene from the night before came crashing back down on him and a pained gasp passed his lips. He winced away from Johnson's touch.
"Alex, are you okay?"
Alex pushed himself up off of the floor. "I've got to change and get to practice." He shuffled past Johnson, trying to ignore the splitting pain and hurrying back toward his trailer.
Three hours, two bottles of water and several Advil later, he was ready for practice with Marshall, who was much less hung over than he was. They went through the routine smoothly, without Marshall bringing up anything from the night before.
"Okay guys, that's good for today. Great work!" Patrick called up to them. "Get some rest."
"Not bad, man," Marshall said before he released Alex and, after a few slower swings, dropped himself back down to the ground.
Alex grabbed his swing and glanced down to find Cash waiting for him. Johnson. That asshole. Instead of dropping after Marshall, Alex swung himself around the swing, starting the same warm-up routine he usually worked through before his routine.
Cash was quiet for a few minutes. It surprised Alex that he was able to hold out for so long. Finally he sighed. "Are you ever going to come down here so I can talk to you?"
Alex stopped hanging upside down by his knees. "I don't want to talk to you."
"Alex, c'mon, you ran away last night. You've got to let me explain."
"Explain what?" Alex growled. He was annoyed, and he finally did drop himself down, landing nimbly on his feet and almost smirking as Cash cringed. "You fucked Ian, so what?"
"Alex..."
"You said things weren't going to change."
"They won't."
"Fuck you!" Alex shoved Cash hard enough to knock him to the ground before stalking out of the tent. He needed a shower, and a nap. Cash didn't follow.
-
It was almost dark when he let himself out the door of his trailer again. His stomach was grumbling, and he was hoping to maybe hold down some of the pizza that Jon had promised to make for dinner.
He'd only taken a few steps when he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey."
He turned to find Ian pushing off from the side of the trailer. He didn't say anything in return but also didn't turn to start walking again.
"Can I talk to you?" Ian asked.
Alex nodded dumbly. "I'm sorry for interrupting last night."
"No, I- you weren't," Ian stammered out.
"Umm... I'm pretty sure I was," Alex replied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness from creeping into his voice. He may not have slept around as much as Cash, but he was pretty sure that he knew what two guys looked like in the middle of sex.
"Alex, we were drunk."
"Listen, I'm mad at Cash, not you, and I really can't explain to you why. You two, I have no problem with it."
Ian looked at him incredulously for a moment before he let out a laugh. "Oh my God, you're both absolute idiots."
"Excuse me?"
"We wouldn't have slept together if we weren't both absolutely plastered. Jesus, Alex, you're all he's talked about all week. Everything we talked about I heard a story ‘one time Alex and I' or ‘Alex would love this.' Everything. I know you said there was nothing going on between the two of you but obviously if Cash is talking about you like that and you're this upset with him, well, obviously there's something there."
Alex shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Ian shrugged, "Okay. I just wanted you to know, there's nothing going on with me and Cash. And that he's really freaked out."
Alex just nodded his head. "I'm heading down to get some pizza. You coming?"
And that was the end of it. He and Ian walked down silently, and once they reached the crowd, Ian grabbed a seat on the bench next to Johnson, leaving the seat across from Cash open. Alex set his jaw, grabbing a slice of pizza and sitting down at the other table, next to Ryan, instead.
He was asleep before Marshall got back to the trailer that night, but the next morning when he woke up and rolled over, he looked up from his bed to see his partner, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him.
"We have to talk."
Alex sighed. It was early, and their show was in a few hours. He didn't want to start their summer off with Marshall angry at him; he tended to leave bruises on Alex's wrists when he was angry.
"I don't want to talk about Cash," he grumbled, draping an arm over his eyes.
"I don't care." Marshall sat down heavily on Alex's bed, pushing his arm away. "Do you remember two years ago when we came to get you?"
Alex nodded.
"So you remember how you told us to go without you?"
"No, I didn't."
Marshall laughed aloud. "Dude, you totally did. Even though you knew that you and me are a package deal, you told us that you couldn't do it. You told us you had to go to college and that you weren't a good enough performer anyway. And man, you wouldn't listen to a word I said."
And okay, maybe now it was starting to come back to him.
"So?" he asked, voice small and hoarse.
"So, when I stormed out, you talked to Cash. He told you that you were smart enough to make it if you went to college and, fuck, smart enough to make it if you didn't. He told you that you were more than good enough to perform and that he wanted you to come with us. He said we weren't going without you, and he got you to change your mind. He's the reason you came with us."
"He's not the only reason."
Marshall stared at him hard. "Look, I don't care that you didn't believe me, okay? But you've got to pull your head out of your ass and realize exactly why it is that you care so much that Cash slept with Ian. He needs to realize it too, I mean, he thought you were flirting with Sisky, and really, he's even worse than you are, always sneaking over here to crash with you."
Alex sat up quickly. "It's not like that. Cash and I aren't together like that!"
Marshall leveled him with a glare. "You and Cash have been together like that since the summer we were seventeen whether you realize it or not. Maybe without the label, but you've totally belonged to each other for three years now."
Alex glared back at him, not saying a word or giving him another inch.
Finally Marshall just sighed and stood up, kissing Alex on the forehead. "Just think about it, okay? I'll see you down at the tent for the show."
Alex watched Marshall leave the trailer before pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning his head down on them. Fuck.
It was one thing to be pissed at Cash for letting things change when this new circus came in, but it was another to realize that everyone around him knew that he was in love with his best friend when even he hadn't realized it.
If it had been a practice day, he would have locked the door to his trailer, but it wasn't. It was a performance day - opening day - and he couldn't afford to sit and wallow in self-pity. He took the longest shower he could before getting ready.
Ryan stared at him hard when he collapsed down into his chair. Alex knew he looked horrible, his hair still wet and a mess, his face that mix of exhaustion and stress.
"How do you want your makeup?" Ryan asked after a moment.
"Dark," he whispered.
Ryan pushed his hair back out of his eyes, looking closely at Alex.
"Don't," Alex said tensely. "Just don't."
"Okay," Ryan agreed, picking up a stick of eyeliner and reaching for Alex's chin to hold his face still.
-
The difference for the performance was an extra thirty feet. Rather than using a mounting block with a little bit of leverage, Alex and Marshall climbed up ladders to reach their swings. They were anywhere from fifty to seventy feet off the ground during their performance. Alex had always loved the thrill of the extra height, and even today, he was shaking a little bit with anticipation.
There was a rhythm to the show, starting off with Johnson and Bella. It was like a dance with the two rings going simultaneously, the clowns traveling back and forth, the pairs breaking off to do their things. Alex and Marshall went on early.
Alex rolled his neck, stretching the muscles as they waited to go on, Marshall next to him doing the same. They didn't speak: they didn't usually before they went on, but there was definitely an added tension there today.
Spencer motioned to them and they started out into the ring. "Good show," he muttered to both of them, his attention already back on the floor. They went out and bowed to the crowd before they started up their individual ladders.
Alex glanced over at where the clowns were proceeding along the outside of the ring, Cash and Pete leading them on a set of unicycles. Ian was holding court in the other ring with his two cats, gaining gasps from the crowd.
He turned back to the ladder and started climbing. What Marshall had said about Cash that morning was true, and he couldn't help but think back upon it.
He'd freaked out when Cash and Marshall had asked him to go with them, had given him the choice, and Marshall had been mad at him for hesitating. He'd stormed out of Alex's room, out of the house.
Cash had said everything that Marshall had told him that morning, but Marshall didn't seem to know that the two of them had been curled up on Alex's bed while he said it.
"What if this doesn't work, Cash?" he'd asked.
Cash had taken a moment and thought about it, before looking hard at Alex. "Then you'll still have me and it'll all be okay," he'd promised. Then, without a word, he'd leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Alex's.
And Alex had kissed back.
It had only lasted a moment, but when Cash had pulled back, all Alex had replied with was a breathless "okay." A few hours later, the three of them were on the road.
They'd never talked about it.
As Alex reached the platform, he took hold of his swing and took a deep breath. He looked out into the empty space and, after a moment, pushed off. He swung through the air, pulling a few solo tricks that were ingrained in his memory. The breeze, the sound of his heart thudding in his ears, were all calmingly familiar.
And then came the part where he let go. As he swung forward he half-heard the shout, but it was too late: his hands let go of his bar and he was out in open air just like they'd practiced.
But Marshall didn't catch him.
He'd find out later that their timing had been off, barely by a second. But that was more than enough. His fingers and Marshall's had brushed, and he'd seen the wide eyes and face as he started to fall.
It had been years since one of them had been dropped, and every single time it had been at practice. Alex had never fallen from the full height of a performance swing, and fear squeezed in around him. But there wasn't even time for a scream to rip itself from his throat before he was hitting the safety net. It was there for this situation, but he still hit it hard, and his breath rushed from his lungs, pain shooting from the points of impact.
He couldn't make himself move.
"Alex! Fuck, Alex!" The net shifted as Cash tugged himself up over the edge of it and reached out, grabbing hold of Alex's arms. Alex reached out in response, fisting his hands in Cash's shirt. He was still shaking, gasping for breath, and trying to process what had just happened.
"Fuck Alex, c'mon, say something!" Cash hissed.
He tightened his grip a little bit more and finally managed to get his windpipe to open back up. "Cash," he gasped, his voice wavering.
And then Brendon was there, gasping and looking about as terrified as Alex felt. "Are you okay?"
Alex just shook his head, not trusting his voice to string more than one word out.
"C'mon, let's get him offstage and let Pete have a look at him," Brendon said to Cash. They were efficient if nothing else, with plans for falls in injuries during shows.
Instead of pulling Alex off of the net and setting him on his feet, Cash just picked him up, carrying him out the nearest entrance. Alex would have been indignant and squirmed under any other situation, but he couldn't seem to get his body to stop shaking. He just pressed his face tight against Cash's neck.
"Alright, just put him down her." Pete's voice cut through the haze.
Cash set him down on Pete's stretcher and moved to step back, but Alex kept his grip on Cash's shirt tight.
"Okay," Cash said quickly. He got it. He sat down with Alex and looked over at Pete. "Can you-"
"I'll work around you, don't worry." Pete put his hand on the top of Alex's head, checking his pupils and running a comforting hand through Alex's hair at the same time.
"Hey kid, you're doing great. You hurt anywhere in particular?"
"My shoulder," Alex said, though it was muffled against Cash's chest.
"It looks like that was where you landed most of your weight," Pete said. Alex had never heard him speak seriously before. His tone was oddly soothing. "It's probably gonna be tender for a few days, you might have some bruising."
He lifted Alex's shirt and Alex let out a whine. Cash held on to his arm more tightly.
"Alex, I'm going to look at your shoulder a little bit, make sure you didn't mess it up too badly. It's probably going to be kind of uncomfortable."
Alex nodded.
As Pete finished his examination, poking and prodding at Alex's shoulder he spoke to Cash.
"I've never seen you run so fast."
"He fell, Pete. He's my best friend and he fell from fucking fifty feet in the air."
"He's okay."
It was then that Marshall finally arrived, finally got out of the tent. There were tears streaming down his cheeks as he grabbed Alex's arm.
"You were early. You were early, and fuck, Alex, I tried to catch you."
"I know." Alex hissed as Pete's thumbs pressed into his shoulder. "I was early, it was me. I'm... I think I'm okay."
"He's okay," Pete affirmed. "Get him out of here, away from the tent. The guys can do their old routine."
Cash started to step back, ready to let Marshall take over but Alex groped for his hand again. He held on tight and looked at Marshall, nodding, "I'm okay."
Marshall looked him up and down, as if he didn't believe him, before nodding. He turned his head, giving Cash a look before turning and heading back toward the tent.
Cash leaned on the cot in front of Alex. "Can you walk?"
"I think so."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Whichever trailer's closest," Alex said. He was pretty sure he could walk, but not so sure how far.
Cash stepped back, his grip forcing Alex to slide down off of the table. He walked slowly and couldn't help but realize he was still a little unsteady, leaning on Cash much more than he usually would have. Cash kept hold of his arm, his other arm sliding around Alex's waist. He was gripping Alex hard, probably harder than he realized.
When they made it to Cash and Johnson's trailer, Alex dropped down lightly onto Cash's bed without a word, rolling up onto the side of his body that wasn't still throbbing.
"Christ, Alex." Cash's voice came out raspy as the bed sank under his added weight.
Alex opened his eyes to find Cash looking very close to falling apart in front of him. "You fucking fell. You don't... you never fall."
Alex stared back for a moment. Cash was scared of heights as it was but he was never going to be able to watch him and Marshall do their routine again. He wanted to say something comforting, something to prove to Cash that he was okay.
"You slept with Ian," was what spilled out.
Cash stiffened, his jaw setting and he moved to stand up.
"No," Alex moved quickly, grabbing hold of his arm. The quick movement made his muscles scream in protest, and he winced, tightening his grip on Cash.
"You're fucking lucky you're hurt," Cash told him. He'd noticed the pained look and didn't try to get away again.
"That wasn't what I meant," Alex insisted.
"Then what did you mean?"
"You said no matter what changed, it would be okay, because I had you," Alex said, and it sounded cheesy and lame and pathetic and to be honest, he kind of wanted to hide as soon as he said it.
Cash was just staring at him. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah, well this week didn't feel like it," Alex said. He knew he sounded bitter. "And I think..." He sighed. Maybe he'd hit his head: he couldn't seem to get his thoughts straight.
"Alex?" Cash asked tentatively after a moment.
Alex pulled Cash closer by the front of his shirt and kissed him. He didn't know another way to get his point across. Cash gasped but didn't pull back. Instead, he kissed back harder than Alex was expecting, rolling him onto his back and biting at his lower lip. Alex's shoulder was shooting off sparks of pain, but he didn't care, because he suddenly felt so much better than he had for the entire week.
Cash pulled back with an audible pop. "You're an idiot," he breathed. "I hope you know that. Six years, Jesus."
Alex didn't say anything in response, just pulled Cash back down as tightly as possible, because fitting them together was warm and familiar. And when, after a moment, Cash started to grind down against his hip, Alex thought nothing had ever felt that right. He let out a groan, pushing his own hips up to meet Cash's.
Cash pushed harder, and as they worked out a rhythm of give and take, Alex wasn't surprised to feel his erection pressing against the seam of his pants.
His breath hitched in his throat when he realized Cash was even harder than he was.
"Cash." He rasped out the name, not sure what, exactly, he was asking for.
Cash seemed to know, though. One of his hands came down to grip Alex's hip, and he started rocking harder against Alex. His leg pressed harder, and stars began shooting off harder behind Alex's eyelids. He gripped Cash's shoulders hard, the pain in his own back all but forgotten. "Come on, Alex," Cash hissed, pressing his lips to Alex's neck, teeth scraping and raising a bruise.
Alex let out a long breath, turning it into a cry as his body betrayed him. He arched up against Cash as he came.
Cash continued to roll his hips as Alex fell back to the bed, stiffening a moment later, and breathing hard as he rolled off of Alex.
"Gross," Alex commented, still taking deep, gulping breaths.
Cash laughed, shaking his head and walking across the small space, stripping off his dirty clothes and pulling on a pair of boxers. He threw another pair at Alex, who was already stripping off his own shirt.
"Yeah, well, we'll just have to do it properly next time."
"Yeah," Alex said as Cash climbed onto the bed next to him. "Yeah, okay."
-
They'd been laying there for a good half hour when there was a knock on the door and before they could move much to cover themselves, Patrick stepped up the few stairs, arms crossed over his chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Sore," Alex said. "That's all."
"Did you two figure everything out then? Fix this mess that's been throwing you both off all week?"
"Yeah," Cash said, "We did."
"Good, because if shit like that ever happens again, I'm going to fire both of you on the spot. Got it?"
They both nodded.
Patrick just nodded to them. He was starting to remind Alex of Spencer: bossy and serious, but a big softie underneath.
He paused then, as he was stepping back to head out the door. "Your trailer smells like jizz."
Alex's eyes went wide and he was sure he was turning bright red as Cash just laughed. Patrick disappeared, closing the door behind him, and Alex rolled over, hitting Cash as hard as he could.
"Cash!" he squeaked.
Cash just shook his head. "Shut up," he said, leaning down and cutting off Alex's future protests with a kiss.
And okay, Alex didn't really want to protest that at all.