The Transitive Property of Attraction Part 12
Henry had finished a script and everyone agreed it was terrible, but it was a first draft, and that was worth celebrating. Henry knew he needed to loosen up and get out of his own head for a while, so he and Pete put on their matching shirts and went dancing. Henry wasn't especially keen on dancing, but he was very keen on watching Pete bounce around the floor like a bunny on methamphetamines.
Henry spotted Dave, but made a vow to himself that he would not end up bouncing around the floor like a gangly scarecrow who was actually on methamphetamines. He had decided to avoid all drugs until his script was truly finished. He was sticking to alcohol. And maybe a little coke. Or marijuana.
Henry took a deep breath and counted to ten before he ended smoking crack with a needle in his arm. When he opened his eyes, Pete was smiling up at him.
"You're a genius, Stitch. You don't have to worry so much."
Henry would have argued with Pete's wildly erroneous statement, but his mouth was occupied by Pete's tongue. A few people were staring when Henry remembered they were snogging in public, but it was a trendy enough place that most of the patrons were indifferent. Henry had always felt a little awkward about his homosexuality. He'd never had to pretend to be straight; people just assumed it. He just fed into the assumption. Henry wasn't one for making scenes or drawing attention to himself. Just as he could never raise his voice to draw the attention of a waiter, he couldn't announce his sexuality or make his curly hair look neat. He just had to stumble through awkward situations and be constantly told he didn't 'look' gay. Now, he had Pete to tip people off by constantly holding his hand and kissing him in public. It was almost as if Pete were constantly forgetting he loved Henry. Out of nowhere, he would have a sudden need to rain affection on Henry, and it didn't matter who was watching. It was embarrassing.
It was also nice.
xxx
Henry washed his face in the men's room sink. Pete was still dancing, and would continue to do so until Henry admitted he was tired and dragged him home. Henry had a few alcopops in his system and was feeling inspired. The sugary drinks made him feel lightheaded, and he suddenly knew how he should start his script. It would begin with Pete introducing himself and doing his dance. If anything summed up Pete, it was the fact that he never needed music to do his dance.
"Hey there, Stitch."
Henry was so lost in his thoughts, he jumped.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to compose himself. Charles had never been one for clubs, but he was looking the part. His clothes were trendy and tight, and his normally neat hair was artfully mussed.
Charles shrugged. "What are you doing here? You hate dancing and pop music... and people."
Henry tried to stifle a smile. It was easier to hate Charles when he wasn't around.
"I'm here with Pete. We're together," Henry explained, feeling foolish. "I mean... we're together."
Charles chuckled and patted Henry's arm.
"Good for you, Stitch. He's adorable."
"He's a really good person," Henry snapped, hating the defensive note creeping into his tone. There was no reason for him to have to defend his relationship.
"He's very sweet and he cares about you a lot," Charles agreed, moving closer and trapping Henry between the row of sinks and the toilets. He'd have to squeeze past Charles's broad frame to leave.
"He's really..." Henry scrambled to think of something to say, other than that Pete was sweet and caring and adorable. "He's terrific."
Charles gave him a sympathetic smile, like he pitied Henry the burden of having someone kind and uncynical in his bed. Henry tried to duck when Charles reached out to stroke his hair, but there was no room.
"Relax! I was just checking for hair gel. I don't want to get in the way of your fairytale romance. We fairies have to stick together."
"What do you want from me, Charles?"
Charles smirked. "You know what I want, just like I know what you want."
"I'm perfectly happy having a nice, healthy, faithful relationship with Pete. Thank you."
"Of course," Charles said with a sudden and surprising bitterness. "Because you are so good at knowing what you want."
Henry refused to ask, but he couldn't make himself push his way out of the room without hearing what Charles had to say. Charles leaned back and looked casual as someone came in to use the urinal. His face and tone were friendly as he spoke.
"Then you get bored, because no one is ever quite clever or complicated enough, are they? No one is as interesting as the characters in your head."
"What are you talking about?" Henry whispered, quickly losing his girlie drink buzz.
"You were more interested in me after the cheating started. Don't try to deny it. How long are you going to be happy with your little ball of sunshine out there? You've spent months pretending not to notice that he's gagging for a bumming, because he's more interesting if he's unattainable."
"Bollocks," was Henry's clever reply as he tried to brush past Charles. Charles shoved him back against the wall-not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be intimidating. For all the rough sex play, Charles had never pushed him outside of the bedroom before.
"No. He was ready to let us double team him, just so you'd acknowledge he has a dick, but you were determined to protect him from big, bad Charles."
Henry gave an apologetic smile to the man scrambling to tuck himself in and get away from their personal conversation.
"I would never let you touch Pete," Henry growled once they were alone, surprised at his own anger. "You wouldn't even understand someone like Pete."
"Why?" Charles asked with a smirk that didn't fit in with his carefully cultivated cool. Henry couldn't remember ever seeing Charles really angry before. "Because I'll lead him to a life of freaky-deaky sex? Oh no! Bullshit. That's all you, buddy. You've got the attention span of a goldfish in bed. I had to keep upping the ante... Do you think I just owned a set of nipple clamps?"
A man stepped in and then straight back out of the restroom at the mention of nipple clamps. Part of Henry's brain filed it away as a story that would someday be funny. Someday far in the future.
"I never asked for any of that..."
"No, you just sighed and acted like it was a chore every time I tried to get something started, like some bored housewife. You think you're so much smarter and more complicated than anyone else, and you're the only one who has a clue about anything. We're all minor players in your drama, Stitch."
"Let me out of here," Henry tried to demand (but it sounded more like a plea). "We're done here."
Charles gave a derisive laugh before pinning Henry to the wall and kissing him. Henry had no leverage, until Charles moved his hand to Henry's ass. He managed to get one arm between them and had just begun to push when he heard the door slam. Henry was too embarrassed to even look at their latest spectator, until he heard Pete's voice.
"Back off, Charles! Stitch ain't interested anymore," Pete said with a surprising amount of authority. "And we have to get home before the puppies piss all over the carpets."
"And if I don't?" Charles asked, towering over Pete and using the authoritative voice he normally saved for sex talk and getting the interest rate lowered on his credit cards.
"I broke his rib, and I love him more than anything," Pete said simply. "Wot you think I'd be willin' to do to you?"
"If you touch him, I will rip your dick off," Henry said in an even tone. The sight of Charles standing over Pete was so terrifying, he felt numb. The idea of Pete being hurt on his behalf was unbearable.
Charles shook his head and laughed.
"Good luck, Pete Sweet," Charles said with a smirk. "You'll need it. I'll see you next time you're bored, Henry."
Pete stood still and made Charles skirt around him to escape. As soon as Charles was gone, he ran to Henry and threw his arms around his neck.
"Some guy said you were getting hassled by a giant douchebag," Pete explained as he examined Henry for injuries. "Did he hurt you? I will chase him down if he did. You don't grow up in South London looking like this without learning how to fight dirty..."
The rest of Pete's words were muffled as Henry clutched him to his chest and squeezed.