Fic: Foreign Language
“We’re so glad to have you on board.” Carl Flannery knocked Eric on his back with a heavy thump. “I know you’re going to bring a lot to the table. Thanks for meeting with me today . . .I just wanted to give you a feel for what to expect when you start.”
Eric gave him what he hoped was an enthusiastic smile and nod, but truthfully his heart wasn’t in the task at hand. In the end the only reason he’d agreed to give sportscasting a try was because he really couldn’t think of anything else to do, and hanging out at his house forever was not a realistic option. Sam seemed to think he’d come to like the job once he was able to get back into what he knew-- which was hockey, after all-- even if he couldn’t play it anymore. The range of motion in his injured arm still wasn’t even good enough for pick-up games, leaving him fully cut off from the world that had consumed his entire life up until that ill-fated crash against the boards. Right now, though, he didn’t feel like he was getting back into hockey at all. He felt like he was getting into something he knew nothing about as he stared into one of the small broadcasting rooms filled with knobs and buttons and levers. It had been quite some time since he’d had to apply his brain to learning anything particularly new, and he had his doubts about whether it was up to the challenge.
Flannery handed him a folder full of papers. “Light reading,” he joked. “But you really will get a lot from on-the-job training. None of the equipment is as intimidating as it looks.”
Eric opened his mouth to say something-- not that he had anything noteworthy to say, but it felt like it was his turn to speak-- when his cellphone rang, cutting him off and causing him to cringe slightly with embarrassment. He should have remembered to turn it off.
He began mumbling his apologies as he reached into his pocket, but Flannery cut him off. “Go ahead, take it, take five,” he said. “I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee before we get started.”
Eric nodded his thanks and drew out the phone, stifling an irritated sigh at the caller ID. He’d already told Sam he had a meeting that day, and he thought he’d made it clear they were going to have to be careful around his soon-to-be coworkers and employer.
Flannery left the room and Eric answered the phone, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. “Yeah?” he said briskly.
“Oh, I was just going to leave a message,” Sam started. “It’s not a big deal and I know you’re busy . . . but maybe if you’re done soon you could come get me. I was in a car accident . . . a fender-bender, really. I’m fine but my car’s pretty banged up. It was just the passenger side, though.” His tone was light an informative, like he had called to let Eric know what he was planning on making for dinner.
Eric blinked once, twice, three times, and couldn’t come up with a response.
“Hello?” Sam said. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” Eric responded, surprised to find how much his voice had thickened. “Where are you?”
“Toronto General,” Sam answered, his voice still completely casual.
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
He snapped the phone shut just as Mr. Flannery rounded the corner with his cup of coffee. “Ready to give it a go?” he asked.
“Sorry, no,” Eric stuttered out. “I have to go . . . family emergency.”
Flannery looked alarmed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“No, no, but I have to run.” He stumbled around like an idiot for a moment, darting in all the wrong directions before finally retrieving his jacket from the back of a chair and making his way out.
*
He rushed into Sam’s little curtain-covered corner of the emergency room, but stopped short awkwardly at the foot of the bed. Sam was sitting up with his shirt undone, holding an icepack to his side. He smiled weakly at Eric.
“Hey,” he said.
“Are . . . are you okay?” Eric asked, raking him over with his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just some bruises. Luckily neither of us was going all that fast. He blew a stop sign,” Sam responded, dropping the icepack and buttoning up his shirt.
“How come you’re in the hospital then?” Eric asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Uh, because the paramedics came and insisted on bringing both of us in. And I don’t exactly have a ride home."
Eric rolled his eyes, feeling much more like himself in the face of Sam’s upbeat attitude. “Well, let’s go then." He turned around to leave just as a nurse made her way in.
“Oh, I see you have a visitor, Mr. Miller,” she said in that bright, customer-service-friendly sort of way, the hair in her severely pulled-back pony tail bobbing side to side behind her head.
Eric put his hands in his pockets and shifted nervously.
“Well, I was just coming to let you know your options-we’d prefer to keep you for a little while just to make sure there are no signs of a concussion, unless there’s someone who can watch you at home . . . overnight would be best.”
Sam made a move for his suit jacket, which was draped over the top of bed. “Thanks, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I didn’t lose consciousness at all.”
The nurse pursed her lips. “You did sustain a hit to your head, Mr. Miller, and even though you don’t feel the symptoms now there’s a possibility they could develop later.”
Eric took a step towards Sam, eyeing him more thoroughly and eventually catching sight of the raised bump on the left side of his head. He reached up to feel the area gently, brushing back some of the obstructing hair, and his hand rested there longer than he had intended as the touch became more like a caress.
“I’ll watch him,” he said softly, his fingers still woven in Sam’s hair and his eyes still on the bruise.
He let his hand drop then and glanced back at the nurse with a mixture of embarrassment and pleading in his eyes, willing the woman not to judge him. Sam caught it and smiled at him reassuringly. He wasn’t sure he merited a smile for his behavior, but he supposed Sam thought it was better than the angry looks that used to dominate their public interactions.
The nurse evidently had no interest in judging either of them. “Alright, I’ll bring in some information for you to read, but basically you just need to--"
Eric cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I’ve had my fair share of concussions. I know what I’m looking for.”
The nurse smiled, apparently satisfied. “Alright then, I’ll just get the discharge papers,” she said as she left.
Turning back towards Sam again, Eric sighed heavily. “Jeez, Sam. Why do you have to go and stress me out like this?”
Sam laughed carefully, making a clear effort to keep his head still. “Are you expecting me to comfort you when I was the one in the car accident?”
“Shut up,” Eric replied, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Sam and kissing him a little more fiercely than he’d meant to. Sam squinted in pain as the impact jarred his head, but he was smiling when Eric backed up slightly. “Where else are you hurt?”
“Just a few bruises. I’m fine, Eric, really. You didn’t need to rush over here. I guess I could have taken a cab.”
The nurse bristled in with the discharge papers and Eric pulled away quickly, although he tried his best to make the withdrawal less rapid than he actually wanted it to be so as not to jolt Sam anymore than he’d already been that day. He stared at the floor so he wouldn’t have to look either Sam or the nurse in the eye.
She stood by as Sam pored over the documents-he never put his name to anything without reading it-while Eric tapped his foot impatiently. Finally satisfied, Sam signed and the nurse gave them both one last smile before departing.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Sam stood and bent over to retrieve his slightly dented briefcase, but when he straightened back up again a look of pain crossed his face and he swayed, his eyes crinkled in discomfort.
Eric steadied him with an outstretched hand. “Easy,” he said, taking the briefcase away with his other arm.
Sam smiled gratefully and laced his fingers into Eric’s, holding on tightly as they took a few more steps. It was the first indication that he was anything other than completely at ease with the events of his day-- he was usually much more aware of personal boundaries when they were out together in public. Eric forced himself to make it a minute or so longer like that, but as they approached the end of the hallway, the bustling noise indicating the crowds around the corner got the better of him. He gently but firmly extracted his hand from the contact.
Sam looked away quickly, blinking rapidly but not exactly looking surprised. Still, Eric could tell he was disappointed.
Deciding to shoot for some middle ground, he extended his arm around Sam’s shoulder as they continued to walk out. He supposed it could pass for a friendly or brotherly embrace, but Sam seemed content as a satisfied smile spread across his face.
*
“Are you hungry?” Eric asked him once they were home. “I could see what’s in the fridge."
“Nah,” Sam yawned. “I’m actually kind of tired right now. I think I might take a nap.”
Eric peered into his pupils, hoping the drowsiness was not the first signs of a concussion, but there was nothing there to indicate anything other than the fact that Sam had had an exhausting day.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Eric agreed.
In the bedroom Sam took off his shoes and his shirt and started to lie down, but Eric blocked his path and began to undress him the rest of the way.
Sam chuckled softly. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good to you right now.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Eric reprimanded. “I’m checking your injuries.”
“Oh,” Sam responded, looking somewhat taken aback as Eric peeled off his undershirt and undid his belt. When the task was complete, Eric sat him down on the bed and crouched in front of him, pouring over his body with eyes and fingers in search of contusions.
Sam squirmed under the touch, crossing his arms against his chest. “Maybe I should start working out,” he said lightly.
Eric glanced up sharply and saw a small, self-conscious smile on Sam’s lips. “Working out?”
He wasn’t sure what was causing Sam’s sudden bashfulness, since they certainly spent a decent portion of their time naked, but he supposed they were usually both naked during those times, and there were probably other things on Sam’s mind then.
Sam laughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushing slightly at the sudden outburst. “I dunno, I’ve just always thought I was kinda scrawny for an adult.”
“Yeah, you are a little on the scrawny side,” Eric agreed with a chuckle. “Adorably scrawny.” He felt his face turn red instantly as the words escaped him, and he ducked his head back down, redoubling his efforts to run his fingers over Sam’s skin. “I mean, if you want to work out for you, then by all means . . . but I like you the way you are.”
Sam uncurled his arms from his chest and reached around Eric’s body, clearly trying to force him to look up.
“Except for this,” Eric added, and Sam’s arms dropped for a second until he caught Eric’s grin and saw he was looking at a large bruise on the right side of his chest that was just starting to pick up undertones of purple mixed in with the brownish-red. “That’s gonna be a beauty.”
“Yeah.” Sam laughed happily. “That’s where my briefcase hit me.” He sounded entirely too pleased to be discussing the aftermath of a car accident, his eyes bright and his whole face illuminated with an ear-to-ear grin. This time he was more forceful in his grip as he managed to pull Eric up and meet his lips in a kiss.
Eric responded in kind, the touch of his fingers on Sam’s skin turning from gentle and studious to heavy and wanting. But before he could let the mood carry him any further he felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest and he pulled away abruptly, backing up towards the door.
Sam blinked at him in confusion.
“You . . . you must be tired. You should get some rest. I’ll come back in a little while to check on you,” Eric said.
He heard faint, “Eric, wait,” but he was already halfway down the stairs by then.
*
Alone in his living room, Eric flicked on the TV but rapidly tuned out whatever sitcom was showing. He felt strangely uneasy and his eyes kept darting around as if he suspected Sam might come after him and demand an explanation for his behavior.
As it stood, he had no explanation. All he knew was that he felt a sudden urge to get away from Sam, which really made little sense since a moment earlier all he could think of was being with him.
He grabbed a beer and bag of pretzels to stave off a growing hunger, feeling momentarily guilty that he was disappointed Sam would not be making dinner. On his way back to the couch his eyes fell upon the folder he’d gotten earlier at his meeting and he grabbed it, thumbing through the papers absentmindedly. He figured he should look it over before he called to reschedule, but he didn’t feel much like applying himself at that particular moment. And the thought of facing Carl Flannery again after his awkward and abrupt departure was none too appealing. For a moment, he questioned whether he should have stayed and picked Sam up when he was done-he really wouldn’t have taken all that long, and, after all, Sam had told him he didn’t need to rush over. But he dismissed the thought quickly; Sam would have settled for that, to be sure, but it wasn’t what he really wanted. Or deserved.
And he probably didn’t want to be deserted like he’d suddenly grown a second head when he had obviously had a very trying day already. Eric rubbed at his eyes, a mental exhaustion setting in. He was back where he’d started, trying to figure out what had panicked him into leaving the bedroom. Even if Sam hadn’t been in the mood for anything beyond a few kisses he probably should have stayed with him, at least until he fell asleep.
Eric sighed and chewed on a few pretzels, tossing the bag aside after a moment as the beer was not doing enough to erase the dry, salty feeling left in his mouth. Maybe what it boiled down to was that for him, being affectionate was like attempting to speak a foreign language in a strange country where he just knew that every word out of his mouth would be embarrassingly wrong. Sam made it seem so natural, the way he could easily gather him up into his arms and say sweet, encouraging things, but Eric just felt clumsy and awkward any time he tried it, and he’d started to wonder if he’d let that part of himself lie dormant for too long to ever adjust to acting any differently. That was part of the reason he’d tried to run away from Sam’s gentle devotion at first-he knew perfectly well he wasn’t able to reciprocate in kind. But as he’d soon found, Sam was a gift that could apparently keep on giving with very little needed in return.
He glanced at the time on cable box. It had only been an hour, but he decided to go up and check on Sam anyways as he tried to push aside the heartburn-like feeling that was growing in his chest.
He stopped by the bathroom medicine cabinet and downed a few swallows of mylanta before flicking on the bedside lamp and sitting next to Sam.
“Hey, wake up for a second,” he said, shaking Sam’s shoulder gently. “Do you know your name?”
Sam opened his eyes and rolled them dramatically before yawning and blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted to the light.
Reaching an arm behind Sam’s head, Eric attempted to prop him up. “Sit up for a second,” he commanded, and Sam obeyed. “Do you feel dizzy at all? Nauseous?”
Sam shook his head and then winced.
“What is it?”
“Just my head,” Sam responded with a droll smile. “But it only hurts when I move it. What’s the verdict?”
“The verdict is you should get some more rest . . . I’ll come back in a little while,” Eric said, satisfied that Sam was in no immediate danger. He stood and headed for the door.
“Come back? Where are you going?” Sam asked with just the faintest touch of disappointment in his voice.
“Downstairs. I’m not really tired right now.”
Sam squinted at the clock. “Oh, yeah, I guess it’s not that late.” He closed his eyes again and curled his outstretched hand into a fist around Eric’s pillow, then dragged it towards him and wrapped his arms around it.
Eric took in a deep breath through his nose, that earlier bout of heartburn suddenly raging much stronger. Sam looked so vulnerable like that, twisted on his side and holding onto a stuffed bit of bedding that he probably wished could be a live human being instead.
It was several more minutes of watching Sam sleep before he was able to place the heaviness in his chest. It wasn’t heartburn, after all. It was fear-- though what he was afraid of was not immediately apparent. And it was a miserable feeling, making his skin crawl and his pulse race. It was the kind of feeling he would usually try to drown with a bottle or six of beer. But something stopped him this time.
Sam opened his eyes and smiled at him, his lids still half-closed and the view to his pupils obstructed by his long lashes. “Hey,” he said.
With that one word the fire in Eric’s chest started to burn off, and only a slight vestige of the terrifying anxiety remained. What lay beneath was a much more pleasant feeling, although he knew now that it went hand in hand with worry. That was a side effect, evidently, of being in love. And not just an I’m-glad-I’m-not-alone-anymore love, but the this-man-is-my-match kind of love.
Suddenly, it was absolutely imperative that Sam knew how he felt. He ran towards the bed, flinging the covers back violently and clambering under them as he pulled Sam up against him.
“Sam,” he whispered as he ran his hands over Sam’s back and kissed his forehead and hair.
Sam grinned at him, looking pleased but flustered by his behavior. “Hey,” he said again.
“I shouldn’t have left you alone like that,” Eric said, continuing to hold him tightly.
Sam laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not that fragile.”
“I know, but you would have stayed for me.”
Apparently Sam did not have an answer for that one. “So why didn't you then?” he asked curiously.
“I was being stupid. I don’t know. It’s just . . . you were in a car accident, Sam. You might have . . . I mean you could have . . . and then I would have been . . . and I’m not sure I can do this without . . .” He didn’t finish any of the sentences but instead occupied his lips with kissing Sam fervently several times.
“Oh,” Sam said softly.
The sentences finished themselves in Eric’s mind anyways. Oh, he thought.
Sam curled into his arms. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were actually pretty wonderful today.”
Eric snorted. “I say one nice thing to you and I get a free pass for being a moron? That’s dangerous information.”
“Well, you know how some people drop pleasantries all the time and they become trite and commonplace? At least with you I know when you say something you really, really mean it.”
Eric regarded him skeptically. “You are way too easy, Sam Miller.”
Sam just grinned back defiantly. “Besides, I don’t really need your words to tell me how you feel. I can see it in your eyes.”
“In my eyes?” Eric scoffed. “And that’s enough for you?”
“Well, they are really nice eyes,” Sam said with a shrug, settling down against Eric’s chest.
Eric laughed and pulled him even closer, tightening his grip. He hardly ever held Sam like this-for all his fears of intimacy it was usually Sam who held him, a sensation he’d come to treasure. But glancing at his arms-both of his arms-as they surrounded Sam’s body he suddenly felt much stronger than he had in quite some time.
“No more car accidents,” Eric said, pushing his face into Sam’s hair. “Or your liable to hit your head hard enough to make you realize you don’t have to put up with me.”
“Okay,” Sam agreed happily. “No more car accidents.”
A second later a growl erupted from Sam’s stomach, and he looked up sheepishly. “I guess maybe I am hungry now.”
“I could bring you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, if you like,” Eric offered.
Sam gave him a pointed look.
“Alright, alright, I’ll order us a pizza.”
The short little bursts of breath from Sam’s laughter tickled his chest, and there were no more traces left inside there of the panic he’d felt earlier.
“Then make sure it has some vegetables on it,” Sam said cheerfully.
Eric was usually just a pepperoni man himself, but for Sam he could make an exception.
******
NEXT: Quality