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Chapter Text

Prologue: angels like you

“It’s not your fault I ruin everything” - Miley Cyrus

Nigel

When Nigel first saw Adam, the world went from a nightmarish, if sadistically amusing, blur of chaos to perfect symmetry.

Later, he would learn that outside of Adam’s presence or at least knowing - for absolute certain - Adam belonged to him in every way, his world would crash down around him in pieces.  That amusing nihilism became something so toxic it even made him fear himself.  But more than anything, he feared the deprivation of the only one perfectly beautiful soul in all of the fucking universe.  The cause of every waking thought and feeling was this humble, unassuming boy who had no idea of his own power.

And Nigel?  Nigel was fucking nothing at all without Adam.  

What would Adam be without Nigel?  Not only did Nigel not want to know, but he’d fucking die rather than be replaced and forgotten.  He would kill.   Only Adam was safe.  Those were simply the rules, it wasn’t remotely like Nigel had any control of it; he was a paper airplane in love’s hurricane.  

And all because he had gone to one stupid fucking event where a chick Darko wanted to fuck might have been.

All because he turned cluelessly to see the most beautiful person who had surely, obviously, ever existed – and lost himself that easily.

***

Chapter 1: Who said anything about trouble?

“Right, I shoulda known you were bad news

From the bad boy demeanor and the tattoos

'Cause most guys only want one thing

But I'm undecided, tryna figure out if that's you

Either way though, I think you're worth a test drive

'Cause (Ooh) you're so much better than the next guy

And a little trouble only makes for a good time

So all the normal red flags be a good sign

You seem like trouble to me” -Iggy Azalea

Nigel

“What the fuck is this, Darko?” Nigel drawled, finishing his cigarette and disposing of it in what might be a garbage can or perhaps a planter.  

Who was fucking looking, anyway?  

His eyes narrowed, although his tone remained smooth, as it usually did.  Even when otherwise, he went to extremes, a cold fire in him caused his voice to remain steady.  It took something past an extreme incident to make his voice change its slow, amused tone.

“Are you joking?”

Darko glared at him and told him to hurry up.  

“You didn’t answer my question,” Nigel objected, trailing his friend inside while eying the overly nice fucking suit Darko had on.

Who had kidnapped the real fucking Darko, the gritty, merciless druglord for whom Nigel felt a small, but sincere affection and considered his only friend?  Who had gone and fucking replaced the pessimistic disaster of violence and sarcasm that normally constituted his old buddy, his comrade in arms?

Whoever it fucking was, they’d stuck a goody-two-shoes, optimistic-looking nerd-bot in Darko’s place.  That was the only explanation as to why he’d invited Nigel out to an evening of fine culture this evening, and this was actually an evening of fucking fine culture!

Such an invitation implied an exclusive nightclub, maybe even a high-end brothel, or at least a decent, square meal with some hot waitresses.  What the fucking fuck was this place?  It was apparently part of a large college campus, and yes, Nigel had indeed heard of colleges.  He had heard that on occasion, such institutions of higher learning (in between continuing the tradition of generational nepotism and bribery by favoring the “legacy” applicants for admission, and letting athletes do whatever the fuck they pleased so long as they won games, or spoiling their little fraternity/sorority princes and princesses) would have guest speakers and that these affairs were open to the public.

But this was some sort of “Wine and Cheese Meet and Greet” bullshit with an actual fucking poet who was visiting from Portugal and apparently must be sort of well-known, and-or popular.  “Rogério Silva, Poet Laureate of Something or Other, Boring as Fuck Bullshit for Rich and Pretentious Pricks,” said a nearby sign, or at least that was how Nigel’s mind automatically translated it.  He looked suspiciously around the room like he was casing it.  

There was an equal mixture of most demographics in the large event space, he could at least give these academia fuckers that much.  Nice to fucking see that the whole place wasn’t closed off to just white wealthy brats used to getting their own way at the expense of everyone else.  That had definitely been Nigel’s assumption when Darko drove them in through the tall, golden gates and followed the stream of cars politely progressing towards event parking at this Ivy League monstrosity.

The place itself was dull, nondescript, and made him want to fall into a fucking coma from sheer boredom.  Cream-colored walls, maroon carpet, a brown, wooden stage up front and a lot of black folding chairs spanning most of the center space, around which people were “mingling” with one another.  A buzz of excited anticipation for hung in the air, as Silva-the-Poet was going to be doing a fucking reading so all of these cultured prats could drool all over him some more.  

Losers.   

Fuck this whole scene; the food wasn’t nearly substantial enough to warrant the waste of time and the whole fish out of water thing.  Nigel didn’t actually stand out, he supposed, in his usual, sleek attire – today a black on black suit, more badass than funereal.  He liked to think of this outfit as a cool fucking silent warning to everyone in his path, and he wore it when he was in A Mood.It was obvious enough to recognize who the Professors were, from their frumpy attempts at matching outfits or being “culturally eclectic” and shit; way to fulfill a stereotype.  The students, with their wide eyes and their innocence, were less annoying, but of no interest.  He had nothing to talk about to someone who’d go to a stuck-up event like this, and even less patience to pretend otherwise, no matter how cute some of the undergrads were.  

Then there was a small sprinkling of Outsiders like himself, also wearing suits and cocktail dresses for the most part, better coordinated and either Book Club Ladies or fucking old guys who were obviously Alums and peaked in fucking college, so came back to relive their ‘glory days.’  

All that shit could stay in a Springsteen song, in Nigel’s expert opinion.  Regrets were for assholes who couldn’t accept that life was a runaway train without an emergency break.  Nigel had never lived through “Glory Days” in any of his many violent and destructive eras, although he’d briefly thought his love for Gabi would lead him by hand into such a golden existence.  Too bad love, like everything and everyone in this room and Darko’s respect for his small amount of free fucking time, was bullshit.

His thoughts were fucking rambling like they only did when he was uncomfortable, so he grabbed a tiny serving of merlot from a row of neat little plastic sample cups on a table where there were also a few more wine samplings from around the world, plus an assortment of already-picked-over charcuterie.  

Nigel chuckled derisively at what passed for a fucking serving size and grabbed one of the larger plastic cups near the coffee dispenser.  He dumped four merlot “samples” into the one cup, downed it in three gulps, and looked for Darko, who had clearly decided to evade his disapproving response to this nightmare.

“Hey, asshole,” Nigel crowed, discovering his so-called friend in the thick of the crowd, although Darko was looking for someone rather than mingling.

“Shut the fuck up, nobody talks like that around here,” Darko whisper-hissed, grabbing Nigel by the elbow and laughing as if he’d said something appropriate and witty.

“What was that fucking laugh?” Nigel asked blankly.  “You sound like a congested ostrich.  Are you trying to pretend you’re the kind of stuck-up, zero-personality dipshit who intentionally comes to a poetry reading ?”

“You know, the worst part is, you’re a fucking hypocrite, Nigel. What was that place you met Gabi?  Pretty sure she wasn’t a co-worker who stripped or served vodka shots, but a rich, intellectual, stuck-up, fucking cellist .”

“Point taken, so who here are you trying to fuck, then?  At least that’s halfway fucking interesting.”

Darko gave him an annoyed look and straightened his actual fucking tie.  “I’m…I’ve met someone, if you must know, Nigel.  Alright?”

“Alright, just be careful not to fall in love.  Fuck them and hit the road, unless you want to pay for your mistakes in blood and ruination like I did.”  

“Melodramatic fucker.  I like this girl, okay?  She’s different.  Her name is Luciana, but I call her Luci.”

Nigel laughed uproariously and smacked Darko on the back as if his friend had choked nearly to death.  “You atrociously embarrassing fucking loser .  Did you actually just blush?”

“Cynical, melodramatic, mean fucker,” Darko corrected himself.  

This, Nigel felt was the real hypocrisy as Darko had mocked him ceaselessly in similar terms when he first fell for Gabi.

“Yessss,” Nigel said slowly, like he was addressing a kindergartener.  “Are you coming to a point anytime soon?”

“Leave me alone.  I asked you to come for moral support and to continue my apparently doomed efforts to domesticate you so you might someday be fit for company someplace outside the criminal underworld.”

“All you had to do is fucking tell me you needed moral support and I’d have been there.”  Nigel was offended by Darko implying otherwise.  “Jokes or not.  Now, what’s the fucking problem, does she not like you back?”

“She does like me,” Darko smiled, much too softly.  “For some absolutely insane reason.”

“Oh, yeah?”  Nigel scoffed.  “In that case, as your friend I’m telling you to lose that tie, you look like an asshole in it.”

Darko glanced down and nodded.  “Yeah, you’re right, I was thinking that earlier but I wasn’t sure. How’s this?”

He undid his top button after sliding off the hideous tie, which he stuffed into his blazer pocket.  Nigel looked at him discerningly.

Darko was a handsome motherfucker, and now his outfit did him justice, appearing formal, with a hint of smoldering rebellion.

“Much fucking better.  You now look like someone I wouldn’t want to punch in the stomach on sight upon meeting.”

“My best friend,” Darko muttered, “God I need a drink.  I need fifty drinks. But I can’t be drunk.”

“Eh.  You can grab about eight of those pathetic little wine samples across the room there, not enough to get you wasted, but it’ll take the edge off.  So.

The fuck did you meet this goddess?”

“Coffee shop.  I introduced myself and started a conversation because I couldn't watch her walk away knowing I’d never find her again.  The most beautiful person I ever saw, Nigel, I swear to fucking God.”

“Sure.  How old is she, pervert?”

“Twenty-three,” Darko glowered.  “Which I am not insecure about.”

“Old man,” Nigel chuckled, “Cradle-robber.”

Darko groaned.  “You’ve got a fucking nerve, making fun of my age when you’re the same fucking age yourself.”

“That’s different.”  Nigel patted himself down for a cigarette and lighter, which he found just in time to remember he couldn’t fucking smoke here.  “I’m not insecure about my age; I couldn’t give two fucks about it. I’m not afraid of getting old and all that.  Who gives a fuck?”

“Of course not,” Darko reasoned confidently.  “That’s because you don’t expect to live that long.  You don’t think you’ll ever be really old, right, Nigel?  You’re not planning on anything that dull.  The way you tear into life and rip it out by the guts is a strong testament to the fact.”

Nigel could have wrung his neck or hugged him; he did neither, settling for a sullen glare.  “What was that you just said to me?  Are you currently addled with cheap fucking hallucinogens of some sort?  Have you not only fallen in love but lost your fucking mind ?  Are you trying to go all deep on me?  Are you fucking analyzing me, when you’re the one who needs to apologize for inviting me to this narcissistic, preppy bullshit?”

“I see her!” Darko declared excitedly.  “How’s my hair?”

“Fuck you,” Nigel chortled.  “It’s fine.  Prick.  Gonna introduce me?”

Darko sighed like the mere thought was a painful necessity, but the “necessity” part was kind of gratifying on a friendship level.  Nigel shook hands with “Luci,” who was indeed a very pretty and charming girl, if you were into that whole “ person to take home to mother and then marry to have 2.5 kids and a dog ” thing.  Darko didn’t even have a family left alive, so Nigel wasn’t sure how he’d swing that one.  Still, he was almost happy for Darko just because he’d never seen such a pure look on the normally brutal gangster’s face, and that was stupidly sweet.  

Of course, one day Luci would see who Darko really was, grind his heart into dust, and run off with someone her own age, even-tempered, well-behaved and predictable, dependable , someone appropriate .  That’s what fucking happened .  But if Darko couldn’t heed a warning from someone who’d almost been shot in the head for falling in love, well, that wasn’t Nigel’s fucking problem.

Nigel laughed under his breath, recalling Darko’s professed reasons for dragging him to this event.  “ Domesticated, ” he muttered, ready for another round at the wine sample table.  “I’ll never be fucking domesticated.”

***

A hypothetical party

“I wanna go to a party where it’s quiet / where nobody’s around and I’m fine / a hypothetical party / I’m a riot / home in bed by like 10:45” -Jordy

Adam

“I wanted to stay at home.”  Adam stood in the otherwise empty men’s room of the college event hall, staring into his own blue eyes in the mirror.  He took a few more practice runs on the phrase, then groaned.  “That’s too  blunt.”

He clutched his head, squeezed his eyes shut and pictured an open star cluster.  They were so resplendent, countless-seeming tiny pinpricks of silver, gold and bronze lights, actually thousands of newborn stars.  It looked just like a handful of glitter tossed into the heavens, which was not a frilly sentiment, in Adam’s opinion.  

Adam seldom wasted much thought on conjuring metaphors and such, or any figurative language, because it cost him an extra effort.  But for open star clusters, Adam had long since made an exception.  Plain old words didn’t seem sufficient to describe such a sight.  He guessed it might be what the word “magical” had been invented to describe, back in the middle ages when people had a good excuse to believe in nonsense like magic.

They were uneducated due to the lack of scientific equipment and expertise available at the time, but Adam couldn’t understand people who actually still looked at life as a series of “twists of fate,” managing to combine two nonexistent things, “twists” in time and events, and “fate,” which he supposed was a word someone came up with to avoid how numb, plodding and disappointing, or upsetting and scary life could be.  One could always imagine that “fate” had a better plan for them, as if the current suffering was just a sacrifice or rite of passage to prepare and make them worthy for the wonderful “destiny” right down the “road.”

How exhausting.  Adam was already emotionally drained.  It helped the anxious state of his mind – wherein his normally fraught nerves were even more bothered than usual – to go off on a little mind tangent, but now he’d stumbled from one of his favorite phenomena in the night sky to the lame excuses people made up to avoid dealing with the tragedy and the vast unknowable, yet all-controlling nature of the universe.  

Adam could save himself the chore of such overthinking.  He knew life was just life; science had everything clearly defined to the last breath of existence, and to pretend there was some incandescent thread of life connecting one to their future soulmate or to the dream job that was only a month or two years away?  God, it made his head hurt to consider the work one would have to put in convincing oneself that these thoughts were even remotely plausible.

“Alright, Adam, this is no time to be thinking about the vast universe or other people.”  He shook his head.  

He would take the vast universe, cruel or not, over the tiresome, impossible mass of Other People whom he seemed eternally “destined” to disappoint.  Ha.  No.  He just really had no social skills.  And even when he tried so hard his brain hurt and his anxiety symptoms raged out of control, he was just barely passable as a person who could Go Places and Talk to People.

He’d gotten so mad about it the other day, unsure if he was mad at himself, his autism, or how other people couldn’t handle his differences, that he’d blurted to Harlan over sandwiches, “I’ll never be happy because I suck with getting along with people!  It’s hopeless!”  He only used rough language like that when he was really riled up.

Harlan said Adam just needed to try the breathing and visualization exercises from yoga class.  “After you described them to me, I tried them, too, Adam.  They’re really quite helpful.  I’m grateful you mentioned it.”

Although he knew Harlan was being sincere, it still irritated Adam that the few people who liked him always seemed driven to give extra affirmations, compliments, reminders of his worth and such.  He saw himself clearly and knew he had a lot of great qualities mixed in with the bad.  But of course, they just weren’t the great qualities that people seemed to like, ever.  

“Do your mindfulness exercises” was a poor excuse for advice on the one hand, almost a way to evade offering specific guidance.  But Adam knew his words had been true, that he would probably never be truly happy because he yearned for impossible companionship.  So the breathing and meditating were better ideas than Harlan trying to coax a miracle’s worth of guidance out of the impossible.

“And give Beth a little more time,” Harlan had suggested.  “I like that girl.  She’s got a good head on her shoulders, you know?  She’s solid, common sense-driven, reliable…plus she’s pretty as the day is long, too, right, Adam?”

“Well, the day is definitely long,” Adam said as soon as he had finished a bite of his turkey sandwich.  “Beth is very pretty, practical and would help me if I was ever in an emergency.  But how does that help….my heart?”

He had been surprised at his own confession, that his heart – his ability to feel and give love – was wounded.  That was no metaphor, since he felt that pain in his actual heart, a dull ache.  Incurable?  Harlan said his heart just had to give a good woman the time to figure out what she wanted and Adam said why couldn’t she just know by now, given that they had been dating for two months and seeing each other quite often?

“I don’t know, people are complicated.  A good person always deserves the benefit of the doubt.”  Harlan had sipped his soda and then added, “How about you, Adam, do you know what you want with or from Beth?”

“Nothing,” Adam had whispered.  His sandwich lost its appetizing appeal and his drink tasted sour, when the orange soda was actually sweet.  The pain in his heart had apparently affected even his ability to enjoy what he ate or drank.  “I just don’t think I’m happy with Beth.  It shouldn’t be this hard.”

Harlan had some more pearls of debatable wisdom.  For one thing, he reminded Adam of his own “long lost love” and how Harlan should have tried harder, given her more time, got back in touch sooner, so she never would have slipped away.  For another, “relationships are hard work.”

“They are?” Adam had blinked at his friend, finding only a straightforward and honest glimmer in the elderly man’s caring and concerned expression.  He looked away, as even with Harlan he could only stand looking right at someone for just so long.  “Okay.”

“That was good advice,” he reminded himself here and now, in the men’s room of a college building, where there was an echo in the big performance hall that caused the chatting noise of the crowd to sound even more immense and chaotic.  

He was here , after deliberately not looking up background information on the evening’s poetical speaker, since if he did, it would inevitably come out of his mouth the first time he thought someone – one of  Beth’s many friends, or even Beth herself, at least not Beth’s parents (anything was better than that) seemed interested.  But they would not be interested and he would be, once again, the annoying weirdo who couldn’t stop sharing useless facts that took over whole conversations about Really Important topics – like the farmer’s market Beth had heard such good things about, or that new romcom that was opening next week, or what Beth was going to wear to her college roommate Hilary’s upcoming wedding.

Adam preferred to do background research before attending cultural events, as the knowledge always enhanced his overall experience and made him feel more comfortable, knowing somewhat, what to expect.  But he had decided to try leaving it out and see if that “helped” this turn into a nice date night with Beth.

Beth looked so beautiful in her forest green shift dress, with her glossy, light brown hair shimmering around her lovely face.  Adam was alright, he guessed, and he had worn a tie the color of Beth’s dress, with a matching pocket handkerchief, one he just hoped he wasn’t going to need to cry his eyes out later if this turned out to be the kind of date night he was worried it might.

“Beth said you look handsome and very respectable,” Adam murmured.  His hands were latched on the side of the sink so hard they started throbbing with pain, his knuckles white and fingertips red.  “And she said to lighten up already.”

Light?   He thought of the open star cluster again.  “Deep-sky objects which are the least harmed by light pollution,” he muttered.  Saying a few facts might still relax him, even if he was alone except for the random men coming and going from the facilities, looking uninterested in Adam’s quiet, extremely early midlife crisis.

Oh,  no.   For some reason, it suddenly sounded as if he was referring to Beth as pollution, as if his thoughts were scattered in stars and she was trying to infect them with despair.  He must actually be going a little crazy, or a bit unbalanced mentally, that was the more accurate term.  This metaphor wasn‘t comforting at all; it only made him feel guilty as he realized it seemed more than a little true.

Never mind.  He must have been in the bathroom for ten minutes now trying to think of what to say to Beth, and it was time to figure it out and go back.  Adam might not be happy, but he did always try to remain polite.

He tried: “Beth, you knew that I wanted to stay at home, but you pressured me to come here.   Although you said that your motive was to help me have new and fun experiences, I’m starting to think you only wanted to come out for yourself, and not have to feel bad about leaving me behind.  Because now you don’t seem to want me with you, and I feel like I’m in the way, but–”  He wrung his hands and gave his mirror image a pleading look.  “ You asked me to come and I wanted to stay home–”

Alright, it was rambling but a little better.  Okay.  It almost felt like he’d have the nerve to actually say this speech to Beth.  Oh, boy. He was going to say, it right, after all this agonizing and practicing and wanting something, anything in their relationship to change for the better?

He took his phone out and sent a quick text to Harlan.

Hi Harlan…

Please reply and let me know exactly how long “giving someone a chance to figure out what they want” normally takes.  I would very much like to adjust my expectations accordingly.  I also hope you are having a good night and that you are enjoying the Die Hard movie marathon you mentioned.

There was no choice but to face the world again, he’d wasted too much time and Beth was sure to be annoyed if she noticed he was missing (which was worse?).  He slipped his phone into the pocket of his funeral suit and then pressed down a small wrinkle in the otherwise finely pressed trousers.  His reflection showed a young man who was well-dressed and fairly decent-looking, but also a young man with a flushed face who was trembling with unpleasant emotion and confusion.  Best he was going to do for now.

“Okay,” Adam breathed out, “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.”  He practiced the calming breathing again, and the list of peaceful affirmations.  

Recently, he’d begun attending this therapeutic yoga class that would supposedly help with his anxiety.  Adam needed all the help he could get, and plus it was a good idea to get out more.  Not like Beth meant it – how did she always seem to find these places where Adam felt more out of place every time?  

No, he wanted some kind of place in between alone and crowded, and someplace quiet, so he could try to be around other humans without going out of his mind from fear, nervousness, a worry about one of his quirky preferences being changed or whatever it might be.

The yoga class was taught by a serene and pleasantly low-key, non judgmental married couple named Leaf and Juniper.  When Adam first worked up the nerve to walk into the studio with its large windows and big shiny wooden floor, he clutched his yoga mat to his chest and wondered if he was going to regret this attempt at something new.  

But there was room enough between each mat so Adam didn’t feel space was lacking, and he wasn’t uncomfortably close to any strangers.  The other people in class were stretching and their conversation was quiet.  And when he met Leaf and Juniper, he commented that their  names were intriguingly well-suited because juniper plants have leaves on them.  

And the thirty-something hippies were not only unoffended, but happily chatted with him about plants and flowers.  Adam had repressed many tangents.  He knew more than he had ever actually wanted to about this topic, like a lot of topics.  Because when he couldn’t sleep at night, documentaries were one of the only things that calmed him down.  He filled his eager mind with new facts and information to cover up his listless, confused feelings.

Anyway yoga class had been okay and had given him a few calming-down exercises that had already proved useful.  

And he was really, really going back out there to the poetry reading event.  He and Beth had come to an impasse, and Beth was going to have to compromise by accommodating his needs, quirks, or whatever else she chose to call them – irritating inconveniences, maybe?

He hadn’t ever said that to Beth, despite having thought and felt it many times since they began dating.  Beth had just never met an autistic person before, much less dated one.  It was a learning curve for them both, and Harlan had suggested they could try to “meet in the middle.”  This meant that Beth could try to be more understanding of Adam’s lifestyle needs and preferences, while Adam could attempt to be more willing to try new experiences, and to leave the apartment more often for something other than work.

Adam and Beth had been together for two whole months, and tonight confirmed why he kept getting that bad, sinking feeling in his stomach whenever Beth explained some plans she had for an upcoming activity.  And whenever Beth went on and on about her perfect friends and her amazing mom and extended family.  She had excised her father from such discussions, as if he’d never even existed now that he had been publicly outed as a lying cheat and gone to jail and everything.

Every time she’d talk about that stuff, Adam suspected there was some kind of trick underneath her bubbly, too-casual chit-chat.  He never quite got over the one time she had lied to force him into meeting her parents at the theater, and although she had apologized, Beth also said she genuinely felt she hadn’t done anything wrong.  

Adam was so difficult.  He was unreasonable in delaying his first meeting with her family.  She had to give him a nudge.

She had humiliated him, deceived him, insulted him, and taken no responsibility afterwards.  In fact, when he threw a despairing tantrum, somehow the whole entire thing became Adam’s fault, and she was mad at him.  Calling him a ‘ fucking child .’

Why did she have to do that?  Beth was pretty, nice, smart and funny.  He liked the way she smelled and her smiles, the soft way she dressed, and her strong moral fiber. Beth was ambitious and believed in herself.  He admired her so much for that.  He couldn’t match the good side of Beth with the bad one and make it make sense.

One more time.  Adam met his own eyes as he swept his curls back from his brow and examined his features, searching for the strength he saw in Beth’s convictions.

Firmly, he repeated, “I wanted to stay home tonight.”

A random man who had come in just at that moment to use the restroom chuckled at Adam’s words.  “Yeah, me, too, buddy, but what are you gonna do?  The wife’s a fan.”

“So is my girlfriend,” Adam nodded shakily.  “Good luck.”

“Likewise,” the man said, seeming faceless to Adam underneath all the dark waves of his anxiety.  He walked towards the facilities, and Adam walked to the door, letting himself back out into the social evening of fine culture.

***

“Adam, there you are,” Beth said with a sigh of relief.  She appeared in front of him, coming slowly into focus amidst his disorientation.  

Too many strangers, too much conversation, all the talking mixed together into nonsense.  He had been trying to focus on the history of this particular building and how old it was, having stumbled upon a plaque on the wall that stated the answer.  But 1997 was a boring answer, and it was a boring building, however impressive the college itself was.  

“Hello, Beth.  Are you having a good time?”  He gave her his very best plastic smile.

“A pretty good time,” she shrugged, “I’m so looking forward to the reading.  Did you try the wine and snacks out there?  There are some tasty ones.”

“Maybe I’ll check them out.”  Adam stared at his shoes, who had no answers to his conundrums.

“Well, c’mon, silly, you’re my date.  I’ll show you.”  She posed her arm out to be taken and Adam did so.  “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “Beth, I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to think about when I’m here.  You’re the only one I’m acquainted with, and understandably you have been talking with a few of your friends.  It’s crowded and everyone else seems to have plenty of friends, and other than you, I’m alone.”  

“Adam?  Why do you need to think about anything particular?  I was hoping it would be a fun and relaxing night.”

He took a plate and started stacking crackers on it, mostly to remain occupied physically.  Making sure they were water crackers and not Triscuits or saltines, both of which he despised, Adam then placed a square of cheddar on each one.  

“I can’t be relaxed in this kind of environment,” he answered after an awkward pause.

“I just thought…you were so excited to go to the theater to see that play a couple of months ago, so maybe you’d enjoy this, too.”  Beth tugged at the black scarf with the fringe which she had loosely wrapped around her neck over her plain and neat green dress. 

Adam closed his eyes.  Open star clusters, give her time, what she wants, relax , Adam…   Did she have to talk about the play?  That was the day she lied to him and wasn’t really sorry.  He wanted to forget about it, to assume it was one of those “early relationship roadbumps” he had read about online.

He managed to pry his eyes open when his stomach rumbled and he realized that he was hungry, after all.  So, he nibbled on the crackers and cheese, taking a few olives as well, the black ones.  The green ones were too salty and the purple ones were too bitter.  This one other person he’d had exactly one date with, a boy he’d met in college, had made it through one dinner with Adam before deciding that “ the Goldilocks of food preferences ” was “ too high maintenance for me. ”  Adam still preferred the black olives and water crackers, Annie’s Mac ‘n Cheese, Fiber One cereal.  Steamed broccoli.  He also didn’t want to not like what he liked.  Pretend to like what he didn’t?  If he was high maintenance, he guessed he just had to be, as it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter.

“Earth to Adam.”  Beth leaned in towards him with a particularly nice-seeming, condescending smile.  “Are you here with me?  Did I pick the worst possible date night activity?”

Now Adam felt even guiltier.

“No, it’s not your fault that I …I mean, I’m sure the reading will be great once it starts.  And it’s the thought that counts , Beth.”  Suddenly, he felt a bit better having had a small amount to eat.  “My father always used to say that.  You wanted me to have a good time, and that was kind.  I guess I can try to start over and get used to being here.  Is the reading going to happen soon?”

“Oh, definitely, we should go sit down soon.  Thank you, Adam,” Beth kissed his cheek warmly and squeezed his arm.  

He was going to miss those incidental touches and her warm kisses if they broke up, he thought nervously.  

Nobody else really ever touched him, not that he wanted them to, but he did crave intimacy, affection and comfort with the right person.  It was going to be awfully lonely if Beth grew tired of what she’d called “his antics” during one recent argument about laundry.

What if Beth was the wrong person after all, and what if there was no one else out there who would tolerate Adam enough to become intimate?  

He pondered these melancholy reflections as he finished his snack, following it with a few cool swigs of Chardonnay from a small sample cup.  

“You were right, that was tasty,” he acknowledged with a brighter smile.

At this point, rather than confronting her about her motives for encouraging him to come out tonight, he just wanted to get through it.  He could figure it out later, when he was in his own cozy bed and all these voices and eyes were far away.

“I know, right?”  She said distractedly, glancing at her watch.  “The reading should have started ten minutes ago, but you know how these eccentric artists are, they live on their own time.”

“Maybe,” Adam agreed.  He managed to bite his lip in order to stave off a tangent about Vincent Van Gogh and how he wandered in the countryside to be alone with nature, and how some of his greatest works came from these meandering journeys outside of time.  “I’ve heard people say that, I guess.”

As if concerned about his mood, which seemed to keep fluctuating, Beth took his hand with a warm press.  “Let’s go and find our seats.  I’m sure it will get started any – oh!”

“What?” Adam asked as Beth dropped his hand.  

“Oh, nothing,” she blushed, eyes sparkling as they darted across the room to where a friend of hers, the aforementioned Hilary, was talking excitedly with a handsome, tall man wearing a tie similar to Adam’s, but in maroon instead of green.  “It’s just that Hilary’s brought an old friend of ours from college who I haven’t seen in forever.  This is totally crazy!”  She stared at the newcomer, and Adam got the weird feeling she wasn’t really talking to him anymore, or anyone in particular.  “I have to go say hi and catch up.”

She glanced back at him and her smile faltered just a little.  “It’s alright, you can take a break from all the socializing, Adam.  You don’t have to come with me this time.”

“But maybe–”  Beth walked off, grinning and glowing.  Her heels clacked almost melodically on the floor, and Adam finished his sentence by himself, watching her go meet the stranger (to him, at least) with a warm hug.  

The “old friend” guy did that thing people do when hugging someone they care about amorously, the rock-back-and-forth thing that prolongs the hug.  He really seemed to hold onto Beth for a long time.

“What’s his name?” Adam asked nobody, watching as the other man brushed a kiss to Beth’s cheek, then noticed Adam staring and made a face.

He thinks I’m just…some creepy stalker.  Not this again!

Adam had officially hit his limit, could take no more of this whole atmosphere and everything it held.  He put down his empty little cup and plate and slipped out the side door to blessed fresh air.

The fresh Fall evening featured a summer-slow color-melt of a sunset, the warm yellow-gold shades gradually slipping into darkening azure and rose-pink clouds.  This crisp weather was ideal for making his hot forehead cool slightly and helped him feel un-suffocated.

Thank Goodness .  Adam leaned against the wall of the building, getting his breath back and successfully fending off a panic attack.  He was so sick of having them, and really he was getting pretty mad at Beth.  And these were all bad feelings, ones he hated having.  

I should just explore the campus a little… take a walk… see what’s around… there’s probably something that will distract me until I finish calming down.  It doesn’t seem like Beth will miss me.

He glanced at the phone and saw that Harlan hadn’t texted back yet.  Maybe Adam was the one who needed time to find out what he wanted, after all.

Chapter Text

Nigel

The moment finally came, somewhere between depressing poem number three and incomprehensible word jumble number seven, when Nigel felt it would be less than horribly rude and uncouth to escape this whole fucking scene.

He gave Luci a pleasant “just stepping out a moment” smile, and she nodded with a bright answering smile before turning fascinated eyes back to the poet onstage.  Darko glared at him and mouthed “where the fuck do you think you’re going?”  Nigel just shrugged and winked, grinning mischievously.  Darko didn’t really need a fucking wingman, that girl was already into him enough.  Nigel would just be a third wheel, since that certainly wasn’t the type of lady Darko would want to share.  

And Nigel sure as fuck didn’t need another hour or more’s awkward reminder that other people got to find love and go on dates and enjoy themselves, but he could fuck off and burn in hell on earth, basically, until it was time to burn in literal hell. 

He stood slouched with his back against the wall and had a smoke, watching the sun disappear behind grey-violet clouds.  The stars were just about starting to appear, if you squinted.  It would be a pretty night and it would depress him even more.  He should go and get rid of this cigarette stub, since there was no fucking trash can anywhere near, rude since it was obviously a smoking area except for the “ no smoking anytime ” sign.  That was just not a realistic rule on nights like this.

With a sigh, he determined on going into the next building over so he didn’t have to go back into the auditorium and get yanked into Darko’s obnoxious little cutesy fucking romcom shit.  There was somewhere he could dispose of his trash in this place, surely, he mused, relieved to find the heavy blue door unlocked.  Inside, it was dark except for one light in a hallway that led to two classrooms, one on either side.  There was piano music coming from the room to his left, so Nigel decided to try the other one so he wouldn’t bother whatever young genius was playing that bothersome, lovely music so wistfully. Like an asshole who didn’t give a fuck what anyone else had to go through.

Enjoy your family’s money and your twenty years left of youth you still have before you end up…nothing like me, let’s fucking face facts.  That git’s gonna get married to some other trust fund diva and live happily ever after swimming in money and planning fucking gender reveal parties for their future-git babies and all that.  I’d be playing piano and acting like everything was fucking fine, too, if it was ever going to be fine.  Have fun though, you spoiled fucking nepo baby twerp.

Smiling sardonically at this mean, and therefore slightly cheering, inner monologue, Nigel made his way to the opposite classroom door and slipped inside.  The door slowly closed behind him with a quiet click, and Nigel froze in his tracks, suddenly struck by a disturbingly pleasant shockwave taking hold of his whole being.  

The room itself was a sort of mini-observatory, which Nigel guessed came in handy for astronomy classes and was also pretty fucking cool, even his cynical, rotten-hearted self had to admit.  The lights were on in the dark room, so that beautiful, sparkling stars were spilled from a projector all over the dome-shaped ceiling between Nigel and another person who had already been in the room before he came into it.

This other person happened to be a drop-dead fucking gorgeous man with bright blue eyes that looked neon cerulean under the blanket of stars that shone down on his pale skin.  The boy, maybe in his mid to late twenties, had such soft skin, and it was gleaming in bright white as he frowned up at the stars, his hands tucked into the pockets of an adorable, neat suit.  The stars shifted as if time was passing, with new constellations emerging from intriguing clouds of stardust or whatever else was represented by the puffs of pretty plum and baby-pink that drifted across the stars and moon.

For a moment, Nigel was immobile and speechless.  The moment kept stretching on, though, almost to an unnerving extent.  The boy was haloed in angelic blue light as the colors changed again and this stranger looked like a grumpy angel, sullen and judgmental as he stared into the false version of the sky.

Something in the observatory’s star-scheme did not quite meet the young man’s strict approval.  The stunning boy therefore couldn’t quite enjoy the display as he usually would have.

And this was when Nigel fell for Adam.  Before even knowing his name.  Yet he felt somehow he did know the boy, as if this must be that one elusive person he had been waiting for.  If there had been another life before this one and they were both alive in it, then maybe they had been together there, then.  Maybe he could still feel the after-echoes of that past love.  Or he could just be fucking going even crazier , same difference.

The angel’s frown was critical, deeply observant, intellectual, mysterious, beautiful and so cute it hurt Nigel’s heart.  Like a new bruise he just fucking knew he’d shove his thumb into over and over.  With a pain this sweet and soul-gripping, he’d never be able to fucking help himself, holding his own head under to drown there.

Because even his heart-melting, sad and rather defeatist longing was worth 500,000 of anything outside this one perfect boy’s soothing, yet exhilarating presence.

“Something not quite right up there, gorgeous?” Nigel ventured huskily. 

The young man didn’t seem startled, and Nigel thought maybe he had actually heard him come in, but was so utterly transfixed by the starry sky that he hadn’t looked until now.

And now he glanced at Nigel, barely making note of his appearance.  With a confused but not unwelcoming expression he said, “My name isn’t gorgeous, it’s Adam.  And it’s this projection of the so-called night sky.  It’s full of mistakes.  Can’t you see that?”  He gestured frustratedly up at the stars while Nigel was more interested in his handsome profile, perfect jawline, and the long fingers on his lovely hand.  

“I really can’t darling, sorry,” Nigel winced.  “But could you tell me where the problem is and then I’ll complain about it, too?”

“Oh,” Adam said, his disappointed look at Nigel’s cluelessness changing to a small smile of pride.  “Well, first of all, this projection features a wide variety of star types, some of which can’t actually be seen without a long range telescope.  None of which are as prominent as these.”  Adam pointed accusingly at the array of various star colors and sizes.  “They are totally downplaying the main sequence stars, which is absurd.  You know, main sequence stars make up around 90% of the universe’s stellar population.”

“I know now,” Nigel chuckled, rubbing his smooth jaw, glad he had shaved and worn a decent fucking outfit despite having no clue what he was in for.  

If he didn’t hate the thought of giving Darko credit, he might even have thanked him later for the invite to this stupid fucking snob-fest.  

Here , after all, was Adam.  Adam , at long last. Of course it was Adam.  It always had been.  Trouble was, it always would be, too, and Nigel didn’t even know if his angel dated men, or older men for that matter, or might find him attractive or interesting, and his mind was off to the races.

It was a dizzying sensation, staring at the one you’d been waiting for all your life and never had a name or a face for.  Nigel had made so many mistakes, trying to find his true love in other lovers who were nothing like this boy, with his brilliant, rapid recitation of science facts.  

Adam rocked back on his heels, his voice growing louder as Nigel acknowledging his teaching landed as a form of encouragement to keep talking.  Nigel just knew that the words “sweet,” “cute,” “adorable” and “precious” had never contained the full meaning for him that he now felt.

“ Yes, so it’s absolute nonsense to lessen the number of main sequence stars, which they could try to approximate, at least, and fill in a lot of white dwarves, neutron stars, red dwarves…they could never be that close together, either.  The average distance between two stars in the Milky Way is around 5 light-years, or 29 trillion miles, according to the National Radio Astronomy Observatory. However, the human eye doesn't really see that average. Our night-sky view is only a two-dimensional snapshot of the brightest stars.”

As Adam explained, he’d begun waving his hands and moving his fingers in a certain pattern, self-stimulating.  Nigel couldn’t understand why the angel would be this excited about sharing astronomy facts with a total stranger, but the mere chance to share his knowledge and enthuse about his beloved stars made Adam incredibly happy.  

“Fuck me , gorgeous,” Nigel said in amazement, “That’s a lot of information.  I’m trying to keep up.  So, how about the constellations?”

He slowly approached Adam, where the young man stood on a small, raised platform behind a teacher’s podium.  In front of them were about twenty stadium-style chairs, which meant this was a classroom for small groups, likely for viewing purposes.

Nigel reached Adam’s side and glanced down at him with an expectant smile.  Adam’s bright blue eyes met Nigel’s own, and in that split second, Adam swallowed hard, while Nigel shivered.  The feeling was so fucking intense.  Adam looked away and answered Nigel’s question, remaining friendly and engaged, in his own rather nerdy way where he spouted off fact after fact, clueless that no one would ever be able to keep up with what he was saying…even an expert would have a challenge there.  But Nigel didn’t mind loving someone who was clearly much smarter.  Instead, Adam’s mannerisms, his enthused little gestures and quirky repetitive movements, the fluctuating, uncertain smile on his plush lips, so pink and kissable, every detail was so lovable, so dear and irreplaceable.  

“....so,” Adam was still lecturing, “they seem to have designed this configuration for the benefit of teaching about the different types of stars, which is a choice I can’t agree with, but to make it worse, they have placed the constellations…wherever they fit in order to get all these other star types in there, and the whole thing is just, just…”

“Like an abstract painting, when you asked to see a photograph?”

Adam nodded.  “I think that is a fairly accurate comparison.  Does it bother you as well, all these mistakes?”

He was so completely genuine.  Nigel couldn’t tell if the warmth taking over his body was equal parts arousal and adoration, or if one had taken the lead, but it didn’t fucking matter.

“Can I be honest with you, Adam?”

“Okay,” Adam shrugged.  “I can’t see any point in lying on this subject.  I generally try to avoid lying altogether and I’m so bad at it that on the rare occasions I’ve attempted it, the results were embarrassing.”

“That’s not a bad quality,” Nigel ventured.  “You don’t have to worry about being tempted to lie.  I bet it never even comes into your mind except in crazy situations.  Well, anyway, I was just gonna say the projection is still pretty, but now that I know it annoys you?  I say fuck it.”

“You don’t even know me,” Adam blushed, which was the most gorgeous fucking sight in the whole universe.  “Why do you care that I don’t like it?”

“I’m Nigel,” he said with a teasing grin, putting his larger hand out to Adam.  

The younger man only hesitated a second before nervously clasping Nigel’s hand and shaking it jerkily up and down.  

“Sorry,” he groaned, pulling away, “I haven’t been having a good night and I’m still worked up, anxious.  Being mad at the stars helped for a minute, but now I’m done looking at that and I don’t want to keep feeling angry anyway.  Plus, you seem nice and it is good to meet someone new who isn’t pushy or judgemental about my tangents and everything. Sorry again, am I talking too much?”

Nigel gazed at Adam, not minding when the younger man kept his own eyes focused on Nigel’s shoulder.  Not everyone liked a lot of eye contact, especially with a stranger.  It was enough just to be so lucky as to be with Adam, and all he could throw his energy into was making it last and hopefully asking to see his angel again soon…but not nearly fucking soon  enough.

“You aren’t talking too much,” Nigel said in a soft tone he barely recognized.  It was completely natural and out of his hands.  “I…think you have a very nice voice and it’s a fucking pleasure hearing about the stars and your other opinions. I’m sorry you’ve not been enjoying yourself, though, darling.  Hey, would you like to take a little stroll, get some fresh air?”

“With you?” Adam asked, eyes flicking restlessly up and down Nigel, a quick-shot gaze version of the third degree that made him feel pleasantly self-conscious.  “Why?”

“I don’t know, gorgeous, why the hell not?”  Nigel shrugged.  “Maybe I like you.  If you need to unload some negative thoughts, I’m a good listener.”

Adam frowned, not out of dismay or annoyance like he had scowled at the stars on the ceiling.  This was more a frown of confusion, as if he was trying to do the math in his head to understand why Nigel wanted to keep talking with him.  He literally, adorably, looked like he was trying to carry the fucking ten to finish adding and subtracting the probability someone might actually enjoy his company.  

Nigel was hit with a guilty, delicious sensation as he started to realize no one appreciated Adam enough.  If they did, the darling obviously wouldn’t look at someone like they had five heads, simply on the offer of a little walk on a Fall evening with some light “getting to know you” conversation.

He did feel bad that he felt so good about Adam’s solitude.  A few someones, maybe quite a few, had not been nice to his angel, hadn’t adored him like the boy ought to be adored, worshiped, suffocated with love all day and night.  But that?   That was something that only Nigel could bestow.  His sex drive and ego were ramping the fuck up, snatching some emotion from his careworn heart and combining it all so he almost felt like his old, love-feral self, unforgivably, unredeemably greedy.  

Nigel wanted Adam all to himself, and who could fucking blame him, really?  Who would want to share the most beautiful angel to ever exist with any damn one?  

“We don’t have to,” Nigel shrugged, feigning casual again.  

He had now been in Adam’s presence long enough to know he had no intention of giving up, even if it took a few careful tries to get into his boy’s pretty arms and have those perfect hands pressed to his back, slipping down his pants and wrapping around his throbbing length…everything they both needed.  

Adam was just like Nigel, wasn’t he?  They were love-starved, yet built so nothing could fully sustain them except love.

“I think I would like to.  That was unusual of you.”

“To ask you for…a walk and offer my ear?”  Nigel raised his eyebrows and shrugged off his jacket.  

He was all fucked up and overheated from meeting Adam, and it was too goddamn hot in these buildings.  Outside would help him cool and calm down…a little, at least.

“Uh…”  Adam followed Nigel to the door, and the older man almost thought he would trip coming down from the viewing platform.  

The younger man had been staring at Nigel’s bared arms and the way Nigel raked his whole hand through his silver-gold mane of hair.  How Nigel stretched his neck with a sigh, and what his neck looked like, with the tattoo and whatever else Adam noticed.  Curiosity prickled over Nigel’s sensitive skin, uncomfortable and wonderful at the same time.  What was Adam thinking, what did he want, how could Nigel give it to him and never stop?

“Whoa there, angel, you’ve got to be careful descending to our mere mortal realm,” Nigel laughed gently, holding his arms out just in case Adam stumbled.

“I’ve got it,” Adam smiled with pink in his cheeks.  “Oh, um, I forgot to shut off the lights – one second.”

“So what’s odd?  You have me in some serious fucking suspense over here.”

“Sorry,” Adam laughed and Nigel put a “sshhh” finger up to his own lips and shook his head.

“You don’t ever have to be fucking sorry with me, Adam.  Okay?”

“That sounds unrealistic.  But anyhow, people generally don’t want to keep talking after they meet me.  It’s more like they want to get away, or I want to get away.  And another thing is, you left such a long pause while I was deciding whether to walk with you or not.”

“You looked like you needed to have a think, darling.  You should always have…just what you want…whatever that is.”  Nigel couldn’t help his besotted smile.

Even nerdy little gorgeous Adam could tell he was being flirted with.

“Is it a date?  Because,” Adam added with quick nervousness, “I’m already on a date with Beth.”

“Hmm.  That so?  How’s that going for you?  Coming, then?”

He held the door open and Adam went through it, and there went that blue searchlight, pretty gaze sweeping over him, making Nigel gulp with an uncanny fear Adam might see only his worst side.  That this boy was too smart, despite whatever quirks he had in his behavior and such, which of course Nigel noticed and thought were as perfect as every other quality in Adam.  As perfect as Nigel was imperfect.  He really didn’t know if opposites attract applied to a case this fucking severe.

But all he could do was hope.

Adam didn’t give him a strange look or shrink away, instead he kept that small, tentative smile with that sweet flush in his cheeks.  

Once outside, Nigel took a deep breath, marveling at how it felt like he hadn’t been able to breathe since the second he laid eyes on Adam.  

“They keep it fucking hot enough in these oversized tin cans, don’t they?”  Nigel gestured with a new cigarette he automatically took out, along with his lighter, from sheer anxiety and forgetting that it wouldn’t make a great impression.  

Oh, fucking well, not like he could hide being a smoker for too long.  Was he gonna finally fucking quit?  Should he put this cigarette away–

“That’s not tin,” Adam corrected him in polite amusement, “Those are solar panels.”  

They both looked up at the modern, mirrored panels darkly reflecting back the shadows in the sky that were soon to swallow up that last hint of bruised purple on the horizon.  

“But they did have the AC off, which seems silly, power-saving or not,” Adam admitted.  He pushed his curls back from his forehead and Nigel noticed that they were a little sweaty, like his own hair.  The older man caught the scent of boyish perspiration mixed with wholesome shampoo…a lightly spiced citrus smell, and aftershave…lavender and sage, maybe?  

“It’s too hot for no AC.”  Adam took his own jacket off and laid it neatly over his arm in a formal manner before gesturing, “Want to walk in this direction?”

“Sure, Angel.”  Nigel was indecisively and distractedly fiddling with the cigarette, which Adam finally observed.

“Smoking is a terrible habit,” Adam said solemnly.  “But I’m not judging you.”

They walked side by side down a path which curled around the large quad like a hedge maze without the hedges.  It was actually a good thinking place to walk, given the distance one could cover in the same loop while it was impossible to get lost, since inevitably the circle would come back around to the auditorium building.

“You aren’t judging me, huh, darling?  So why mention it?  I’m only curious, mind you.”  Nigel looked at him intently.

“Because you seemed to be taking it out and putting it back, as if you thought I might be offended by you smoking.  I can’t think of another reason to do something so strange, which means that even I was able to figure it out.  Reading people's body language is not usually my forte.”

“We all have our fortes,” Nigel shrugged.  “Makes the world go round.  So, will it offend you?  If I smoke?”

“No,” Adam decided, “I’m sure you will keep it in the other direction.”

“Of course I will, beautiful, I would never make you…well…”  Nigel gulped again with the cigarette halfway to his lips as they strolled slowly along.  

He knew eventually he’d fuck up and make Adam uncomfortable, so he better not make a promise like that.  He amended his statement to, “I would never want you to be uncomfortable around me.  We’re going to be friends, right?”

“I’m open to that.  Although you are also flirting in such a transparent way that once again, even I can tell…”

“You’re more perceptive than you think,” Nigel grinned, turning a shade between pink and red that threatened to get darker.  

“No, you’re actually just being very overt with your romantic overtones,” Adam replied frankly.  “Or your seductive overtures. I can’t tell which.”

“Not mutually exclusive, Adam.”  Nigel’s smile turned slightly wicked and Adam bit his lip when he glanced over. 

Not that fucking lip…you are gonna get it, Adam, the second you tell me I can, I am gonna give it to you like–

“But I’m in a relationship currently, so I can’t really entertain your flirtation in an encouraging way.”  Adam seemed almost regretful.  

Nigel’s heart leaped.  He suddenly got sick of smoking and disposed of his cigarette in the accommodating garbage can which thank fucking God was located two buildings down from the science classroom building.  Fuck.  If he’d walked this way instead of going in that random fucking building, would they ever have met?  The mere notion made Nigel feel nauseous as his heart started to panic.

“Just…let it entertain you, then, angel,” Nigel suggested.  “I don’t want to push you for anything at all.  On the other hand, I…like you so much that it is a little too much for me to be able to hide.  I’m very much a cards-on-the- table, full throttle self-expression guy.”

“ Angel, ” Adam scoffed with an unoffended, quite interested smile, but sad blue eyes.  “I’ve felt like such a terrible person all night, and an awful partner to my girlfriend, Beth.”

“Alright,” Nigel invited as they went on walking under the accurate and real night sky which seemed to soothe his Adam, while the fake one almost had him ready to hack the college’s system and “fix” it.  “I will admit that I don’t see how you could ever be terrible or awful at anything to anybody, so I’m on your side already.  But let me have it, I’ll see if I can’t offer you some decent advice, hmm?  I’ve been through the romantic ringer a few times, more like the fucking…romantic office shredder.  So, I have experience, at least.”

“Thanks, Nigel,” Adam sighed, opting not to inquire about the shredder reference.  “You see, it all started when Beth – that’s my girlfriend–”

I remember the despicable cunt’s name, darling.  Nigel smothered a jolt of jealousy and anger before it manifested in his actions or words.  

“Right.”

“Beth invited me to come with her to this poetry reading which she and several of her female friends were all planning to attend.  She said it would be a fun and relaxing night.  However, I did not agree then, and I didn’t agree when we got here.”

Nigel nodded.  “Hey, Adam, would it bother you if I ruffle your hair?”

Adam looked down at Nigel’s large hands, which were tanned, with prominent veins and no wedding ring anymore.  Nigel had never been so fucking thrilled to be single; they just had to get rid of this stupid Beth chick, post-fucking haste…

“I don’t think it would bother me,” Adam said, “But I’m puzzled as to why you ask.  Why did you want to ruffle my hair?”

“Because of this.”  Nigel gently put his hand in those soft, lucious, slightly damp curls as Adam’s beguiling scent made him insanely horny, like the innocent and curious way the boy kept glancing at him whenever he thought Nigel wasn’t paying attention.

He gave the boy’s hair a brief, affectionate ruffle and stopped himself from going further.  “It’s going to be okay,” Nigel said emphatically, infusing the words with a deeper meaning than they might imply.  “I mean, you are really gonna be fine, Adam.  It’s just a bad date night.  You’re a fucking amazing person and you’ll get through it.”

“Oh,” Adam grinned, tears briefly glazing his eyes.  He quickly averted his eyes to look at the auditorium where he had left his “Girlfriend.”  But Nigel got the impression this was not because he wished he was still with Beth.  He was hiding his pretty face because Nigel had made him feel something real.

And it was real.  Nigel meant every word.

“Sometimes it’s nice to have a little touch and some reassurance,” Nigel said with another of his elegantly rakish, inimitable shrugs.  “I fucking think so, at least.”

“I think so, too,” Adam answered, composing himself before turning back to look at his new friend.  “Thank you, Nigel.  You even asked permission before touching me, which is a rare, yet very polite act that I appreciate.”

“I can be polite and helpful for you, darling, even if I’m not much good at it with anyone else.”  Nigel chuckled.  “Okay, let’s have the rest of it.  What went wrong with your poetical night out with Beth?”

Chapter Text

“501s look better with some mud on 'em

And those hands feel better with some work on 'em

And I ain't afraid of a little whiskey stain

I don't mind a little static on the station

A little nitty gritty with a messy reputation

Trouble in their eyes

Something bout a guy

With some dirt on 'em” - Ashley Cooke

Nigel.

It was about all Nigel could do to listen as Adam described his rather woeful relationship with that fucking bit-– witch ?  Woman who wasn’t a very good girlfriend , Beth.  

He’d love to tell Adam what he thought of her treatment of him and her fucking attitude throughout the relationship.  This cunt was the exact kind of person, male or female, he fucking despised the most.  She was one of these “Fake Integrity” people.  Nothing more obnoxious.  Nigel would take a conversation with the worst sleaze on the wrong side of the tracks before he’d go near someone like Beth , so insincere and such a fucking know-it-all despite apparently knowing exactly nothing!

Beth reminded him of some of the “friends” Gabi used to run around with, before she “fell” for that wet paper towel who called himself a man, Charlie Countryman.  Even that pipsqueak, upstart fucking loser Charlie was a fair few levels up from Gabi’s old girl friends in the humanity department.  There were two in particular, Ema and Silvi, who really had it in for Nigel on account of his rough-and-tumble, slightly worrisome career field.  

He had not heard those bitches complaining when he used his drug-earned money to throw lavish parties for Gabi.  They’d had the time of their fucking life like everyone else, but they changed their positive tune just as soon as Gabi started noticing more details of his job, blood he couldn’t quite wash off of his clothes or shoes, injuries on his body that had already sustained too many, admittedly.  And she confided in those two fickle whores.

Anyway, it wasn’t like Silvi and Ema’s dumbass, duller-than-death boyfriends were anything to fucking write home about, so maybe they were jealous of Gabi’s happiness.  Of course, Nigel and Gabi had their issues like all couples, but marriage was all about two people working that shit out together, that’s what a couple was.

Maybe Nigel shot his chance with Gabi to hell, but those fucking bitches had not helped one bit, and they could have kept their big gobs shut instead of spewing sanctimonious, moralizing bullshit to her every chance they got.  Warning her off a man like Nigel, reminding her she might even be able to get an annulment, but if not, a divorce was worth the difficulties involved.  Gabi had to be safe, first and foremost, and a man who did not make you feel safe clearly had his priorities all out of whack and was not in love like he said.

Well, those two cows didn’t know one fucking thing about Love, and neither did this “Beth.”  Nigel could see right through her game without even fucking meeting her yet.  Oh, he could hardly wait.

But despite his strong opinions he also wasn’t planning to scare Adam by mentioning them at this early juncture.  Not when he had been graced with Adam’s heavenly presence for no reason at all, just dumb fucking luck.  Just escaping that boring event thing and sticking it amusedly to Darko, who must have forgotten Nigel about two seconds after he left.  But it had still been fucking funny in the moment.

Since moving their business to the states for the simple motive of more probable survival, everything had seemed so incredibly simple, with all of Nigel’s entertainments hinging on little petty jokes, like fucking with Darko, which was far too easy.  That or indulgences in too much of everything bad for him – liquor, women with nothing but trouble in mind and not the good kind, not even the fun bad trouble like Nigel himself.  He was a sadist whenever he wasn’t a fucking masochist.  Three times this month Darko had warned him about doing deals with seedy guys from other gangs Nigel knew he shouldn’t get anywhere near, but he was always looking for a fight on purpose.  To get punched in the fucking face just to feel something again.  The pain, in fact, was too fleeting.

Not at all like this pain of loving his Adam, which would last forever. He wouldn’t need to offer himself up as a sacrifice to any sleazeball with a pair of brass knuckles, any wrong street to go down or the last whiskey too many.  He’d never drink to blackout if he had Adam, he’d rather die than disappoint his darling boy.  For one thing, he was gonna have to keep this sweetheart well clear of his professional life, even now that he was gonna stop running headlong into brutal peril.

Adam eventually finished his sob story of going out with the most repulsive human Nigel had heard of in quite a fucking while.  By this time, they were at the place where the path curved, leading back where they came from, but Nigel tried not to overthink that the walk would come to a natural conclusion, not that long from now.

“So, I just got stuck in between wanting to work it out with Beth or leave,” Adam elaborated.  “A dilemma, I guess.  Mainly because when we have been happy, it was really good.  But I keep wondering if the harder times are worth it, or if the good parts are that good…and I just get tired of thinking so I do nothing but be quiet.  And I don’t like that, either.”

“I don’t know if you’re gonna like my advice, so I’ll lay it on you as easy as I can,”  Nigel sighed, feeling those star trails of Adam’s careful gaze traveling up and down his body, making him feel more and more invigorated, truly alive, by the second.  

He was getting the fantastic sense that Adam was trying not to stare at the tall, broad-shouldered, strong and rakish man by his side.  Nigel was the opposite of Beth, that was for fucking sure.  Was there a chance this lovely, wide-eyed angel might like a bit of rough?  A walk on the wild side?  If only.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Adam announced, again with that charmingly formal tone he sometimes got when a topic seemed important.

Nigel replied frankly, “Yeah, so if you need to ask yourself every two seconds, ‘ am I being too picky?  Do I need to lower my expectations?  Should I wait this out?  Maybe it'll get better, and all that shit, ’ you need to fucking go.  You’re not in a fucking relationship, you’re being gaslit into sitting in the romantic waiting room forever and a day while Beth gets her fucking nails done and spends more time thinking about if you’re fucking compatible or whatever.  Enough already, just fucking leave.”

“Really?” Adam remarked in surprise.  “You think she’s that conniving and calculated?”

“Uh-huh, beautiful, sorry to say.  I’ve been up and down this road and got hit by a few dozen trains in the name of love, in my time.  Most recently, a bullet grazed me by just the tiniest fucking increment – I almost got shot in the head because I tried to hold onto my marriage when it was slipping away.”

“That’s terrible,” Adam said, alarmed.  “But I’m relieved that you were not shot.”

“Oh, I was fucking shot alright,” Nigel cackled, lifting his shirt to show the most recent bullet wound scar on his stomach.  This shot was just far enough from his vitals for him to even fucking survive.  “Damn rookie kiddie cop, but at least he wasn’t shooting to kill.  His fucking runt fellow officer tried to go right for the brains at first sight, which I consider rude.  That bullet was the one that would’ve been fucking curtains for yours truly.  So don’t worry, if that shit can’t kill me, it’s gonna take a real wallop from the universe to take me out.”

If I had a boy like you, I would fight back tooth and fucking nail, even against the huge, almighty universe and any god that ever existed.

Next to the distinct,small red circle, there was the long, ugly scar from when he got tortured ten ways to Sunday by a rival gang.  Pain led him to Gabi, pain pushed him away, right into the waters that he had to swim, bloody and half-deranged, through to keep what was left of him alive.

Adam approached him and examined the wounds without touching him.  “Two police officers both shot at you, and you evaded death.  That’s…I’ve never heard a story like that from someone I know in real life.  Someday you will have to tell me why you seem to incur life-threatening injuries so frequently.”  He was concerned, looking at Nigel, and intrigued as well.

His brilliant, cerulean eyes lingered on the firm lines of Nigel’s sculpted physique, the hair that covered his stomach, and then the slight roundness to his belly, which the boy sure didn’t seem to mind if his expression of embarrassed admiration was any sign.  Adam also didn’t seem bothered by how many tattoos Nigel had, which were quite a few.

The younger man had been looking at his knuckle tattoos each and every time Nigel gestured at something, tempting his new friend to make excuses to unnecessarily point at whatever anything, or swipe his hair back, a bit slower than usual.  

Nigel thought vividly about dragging his knuckles very, very slowly down Adam’s slender, trembling body while the boy was tied to his bed.  Arms stretched taut, legs fidgeting, Adam hard as a rock and begging, trembling almost convulsively.  Nigel would show him every part of himself that was tattooed and put those parts on Adam in creative ways…making out and grinding chest to chest…he thought about Adam kissing and biting at his bicep tattoos and his brain nearly short-circuited.

Adam gathered himself after a few moments shamelessly staring at Nigel’s torso where it was partially revealed, and then Nigel let his shirt drop, repressing his desire to rip Adam’s clothes off then and there just for looking at him like that.  And the conversation went on somewhat naturally.

“Really, you needn’t fret about me, darling, I’m fine, I’m built like a fucking tank.  Anyway, what I think I was saying…”  He laughed shakily as Adam did the same.  “Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember. My advice is based on some harsh shit I wouldn’t wish on an angel like you.  Bad relationship shit’s one of the only fucking things I can teach you that’s of any practical use in this life.  And I’d be more than happy imparting any knowledge that might help you the next time around.  Since we’re friends now.”

“Well.”  Adam was still taking in Nigel’s strongly worded advice, little suspecting that it had been the heavily censored version of what Nigel really thought of Beth.  “I…haven’t decided if I want to break up with Beth yet, so it might not be the next time around , but the next try with Beth.”

“ Yes , you have decided.  You know what you want to do.”  Nigel stepped closer to Adam with a wry smile, too fascinated by the boy’s inquisitive expression and too engaged in the conversation to keep his eyes away from this new source of heavenly light.  

He could look at Adam and listen to Adam forever, but he also wanted to kiss and fuck Adam so, so badly.  As a matter of fact, he wanted to make fucking love to Adam.  But that was all going to have to stay in his mind and heart for now.

“You know what you need.  And it’s not to force yourself to go home with that…”  Nigel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, censoring himself of “cunt,” “bitch” and a few other lovely terms.  “Um, Beth, when you are well-aware you don’t want to do anything of the sort.  What exactly do you need from Beth to make you happy?”

“I don’t know.  I thought couples were supposed to make themselves happy, and enjoy spending time with their partner,” Adam recalled.  “But never rely on the other person to ‘make them complete.’”

Nigel’s eyes darkened, but his expression remained otherwise calm and friendly.  “Where did you hear that?”

“From, uhhh, from Beth?  She told me early on because I had a lot of questions for her about relationships – I had never really been in one, so she was my number one source of advice.  Beth says being codependent is about the worst thing in the world.  We have to have our own interests and spend time apart, although we also have to make an effort to attend events like this in a show of companionship and support for the other’s interests.”

Adam’s brow furrowed adorably.  “I just…don’t understand how that works.  And I’m not sure I like it, in practice.  The way Beth and I are together…”

Nigel could barely hold back from barging into the boy’s fragile mood with many a statement; he might not know how to make love work, but fuck it – he knew what love was.

“Yes?”  Nigel prompted with an encouraging smile.

Adam glanced at him and looked away with a short laugh.  “You — I’m not good at reading faces, but I get the feeling you want to say something but you think you have to not say it.”

“I can run off at the mouth, kid, given the slightest provocation.  And that’s understating the matter…ask anyone who knows me, they’d warn you not to let me start fucking talking.”

“That’s mean,” Adam said, a bit angrily.  “You have lots of interesting things to say.  I haven’t had anyone else to talk to about this stuff, or at least, no one would talk to me about the reality instead of the version that’s coddling me like a child.  I know Harlan means well, but it’s distressingly evident he’s quoting from self-help books to me lately.”

“Harlan?” Nigel repeated, irritated that there might be another man in Adam’s life.  Until proved otherwise, everyone was a fucking suspect.  Who the fuck wouldn’t want Adam, given the chance?

“Oh.  He’s my friend.  He was a longtime friend of my dad’s, and now we meet for coffee and sandwiches in the park a couple of times a week.  I think he wants to keep tabs on me and make sure I’m okay.  It’s embarrassing, but before my father passed away, I’d always…I mean, I had never lived all alone before.”

“That’s not embarrassing, gorgeous, and fuck anybody who made you feel otherwise.”  Nigel was cheering up after hearing that this Harlan was most likely a geezer and no competition.  “You really want my opinion on Beth’s advice?”

“Go ahead.  Please.”  Adam gave him a sweet, expectant smile. 

Nigel put a gentle hand on his shoulder, automatically trembling at how good it felt, just this tiny, insignificant touch…he wanted to go get rip-roaring drunk and howl at the moon, that’s how fucking terrified he was.  Instead, he guided Adam to a small garden outside the event hall.

It was a pretty spot, particularly on a clear and starry-skied Fall evening.  They sat down together on a bench and Nigel’s eyes flitted all over the perfect, quiet brownstone buildings and the perfect, bright green fucking ivy league grass.  None of which he cared about or needed to look at – these bullshit fucking rich people colleges were all the same.  The extraordinary angel beside him had a wrenching grip on his attention, holding Nigel’s bleeding heart in the palm of his soft hand, totally without realizing.

“Alright, I’m gonna lay it on the line for you a little more,” he declared.  He couldn’t avoid looking at the pretty sweetheart just then, as it was only natural for the conversation to proceed.  But fuck, it felt like tying an anchor around his heart that was gonna crash it to pulp.

“Great.”  Adam’s smile was just so innocent, it melted Nigel’s heavy heart.  “This is fun.  I never had a friend who ‘laid it on the line.’  I assume you mean you aren’t going to downplay your strong opinions.”

“That’s right, angel,” Nigel grinned, and carried on even though Adam’s brows shot up as his blue eyes sparkled, jewel-like in the descending shadows of night.  

And Adam’s mouth formed a small “o” for a moment as he took in the term of endearment, which was…the fourth fucking time he’d fucking done that.  Already!  He’d said “baby,” “gorgeous,” “darling,” “angel,” and most likely a few others he hadn’t even noticed slipping out.  

Fuck me , this is a disaster.  Because I fucking am.

“It’s like this, Adam, what Beth told you is the sorriest bullshit I ever heard in my life.  Bar fucking none .”  He ran his hand through the air in front of him like a blade emphasizing his point.  “People in love don’t need each other?  Shouldn’t rely on one another to feel whole or safe, to keep fucking breathing in and out?  She’s fucking out of her nepotism free ride Elementary Education with a Minor in Creative Writing, cardigan-wearing, condescending-smile-having mind.”

Adam looked at him with huge eyes, shocked.  “Nigel, that’s…such an unkind way to talk about Beth.  You don’t even know her.”

“Then why are you smiling, baby?” Nigel laughed, the sound so pure it was alien to his own ears.  

Fuck, this Adam had him twisted up in too many knots to count, the kind that never came undone, but instead just got fucking tighter over time.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Adam pulled his gaze away as usual, but then burst into a cute giggle and put his head in his hands.  His knee was shaking a lot and he seemed to be used to that happening when he got a little excited.  Fuck , why, why, why did he have to be so perfect?  

Every quirk, each little eccentricity or special quality made Nigel feel unhinged with the need to kiss his beautiful lips.  But he’d never be able to leave it at that, and even that was too far.  They barely knew each other, and Adam was trusting him, so it would be really fucking uncouth to try and get him in the sack in the middle of a soon-to-be break-up crisis.  Small, low-grade crisis.  

“It’s just that sometimes…”  Adam bit his lip and laughed again, the sound brighter than sunshine.  “I want to say things like that about her too, but I know I’m being unreasonable, so I don’t.  And I also try not to think in that way.  But you sound like the voice in my head that’s been telling me I’m not happy and I should end it.”

“I am beyond delighted and honored to be the devil on your shoulder,” Nigel said with another rakish grin.  

Adam took in his slightly crooked teeth, then his eyes landed on Nigel’s cheeks before sweeping down to his neck, focused on the tattoo he discovered.  “You’re not, there’s no such thing.  But I guess that’s a metaphor.”

“Yeah.  Anyway, you know you can let yourself have your actual thoughts and feelings without giving a flying fuck what anyone else has to say about it.  In this fucking context at least, Adam.  When you’re not happy and she doesn’t even try to make you happy?  And she has you like a dog on a fucking leash, doesn’t she?  You help her with so many projects and chores, you listen to her bullshit tangents about her doubtless asinine, faux-liberal, faux-artsy stick-up-their-asses family and all, I bet.”

“How did you know what her family is like?”

“Educated guess.  People like them – like Beth – make my fucking skin crawl, I’m not going to lie to you, sweetheart.  It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to hear this shit she said and did to you.  On top of treating you so condescendingly because you’re what she considers ‘ different ’--”

“Nigel, I am different,” Adam reminded him sheepishly.  “I’m not easy to get along with, I’d be harder to live with.”  He shrugged, looking pensive.  “Beth had to get past a lot of unpleasant aspects, some uncomfortable qualities about me and how I react to things…in order for us to date.”

“How giving of her!”  Nigel had the fight of his life not to raise his voice.  Or call her things that would definitely offend poor Adam.  His earlier mental curses were beginning to seem far, far too kind.

He stood and paced around the paved path in a meaningless, silent tirade before calming himself down as much as was possible.  Then, he continued, once again being frank while leaving out the full brunt of his savage verdict on that evil fucking bitch.

“She’s got a fucking nerve on her, darling, I can tell you that.  Are you different?  Good!   You’re wonderful, Adam, as anyone can see.  Obviously, Beth sees it and that is precisely why she fucking latched onto you and kept you under her thumb with all these insulting remarks.  She’s feeding right into your insecurities, when she fucking knows better…or why would she be with you?  This is just a way to make sure you do whatever the fuck she wants all the time because you’ll always be scrambling around trying to make up for being yourself.”

“I know.”  Adam nodded sternly.  “But, I just didn’t want to know.”

He registered Nigel pacing back and forth like a soldier of love, as if they had known each other for ten years instead of an hour.  As if Nigel would lay his life down at any moment for Adam.  Beth barely gave him the time of day, and she was his girlfriend.  

But there was a lot more about Nigel that caught Adam’s interest and deepened a strange fixation in him.  In fact, when they were together, Beth seemed very far away.

“I get it.  I do.  I’ve been there.  If it was me, I’d go right up to her and say, ‘ bitch, we’re done’ !  And leave it at that.  I know that isn’t your style…But darling, you must see that – she’s wasting your time and energy.  Worse, she’s fucking hurt you, and that.  That ?”  Nigel tried to breathe, which ended up working okay.  Thank fuck .  

He stood before Adam, looking down at him, unable to disguise his worshipful feelings.  

There was no way for Nigel to get away from being himself, after all.

“What about it?” Adam raised his eyebrows and let his eyes gently, hesitantly and curiously flit up to Nigel’s furious expression.

“It’s…like she has the winning lottery ticket in her hand...no, it’s more than that.  It’s as if she has the winning lottery ticket and it comes with a free envelope full of every secret that can take away sadness and make life so perfect.  And she doesn’t even fucking care.  I…I can’t fucking let myself say more than that, gorgeous.  Sorry if I already went too far.  That’s kind of my trademark, admittedly.”

Adam wore a look on his face Nigel sure as fuck never expected to see from him outside of his wildest dreams.  Shyly, but with total certainty he came to Nigel and stepped right into the older man’s personal space.  

Nigel’s mouth fell slightly open.  His heart thundered, filling his head with panicked noise; his stomach plummeted, as if he’d been carried into the sky and dropped back down to earth, but he might never actually land.

So his lips were still parted in surprise when Adam took his face in both hands, leaned up and kissed him.  The kiss landed awkward, at a weird angle, and when Adam pulled away, he was grinning and his cheeks were blazing scarlet.

Nigel felt as if he couldn’t, really couldn’t take this.  It was too much.  Did Adam really just do that?

He stared at the boy, almost panting as his chest rose and fell rapidly.  Romantic fight or flight took over his whole body and mind, more intensely than ever, even more than with Gabi.  Dizzy, he tried to read Adam’s features.  But he found only joy and a bashful apology.  

“Sorry,” Adam said in a shaky voice, so fucking cute it put Nigel on edge like nothing else could.  The edge of insanity, fuck .  Here it was again.  “I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, baby, ” Nigel said with a ragged sigh, “Nothing could possibly be truer.”

He stepped towards Adam smoothly and gathered the boy in his arms, bringing their mouths together again.  Just like that, it was so right .  Their kisses, even when Adam seemed to struggle with his coordination, were delicious and irresistible.  Warmth and desire cascaded through every single nerve, pore and instinct making up Nigel’s being, and self-control was in danger of becoming an afterthought.

Adam moaned against his lips, breathing as heavily as Nigel.  He put his lovely hands on the front of Nigel’s shirt with these helpless little tugs that made Nigel’s cock throb.  “You’re a good kisser,” Adam whispered.  “I know I’m not.”

“You’re perfect , baby,” Nigel assured him throatily.  “ Fuck.   If you only knew…”  

Adam swooned a little at that and fell against him with both arms encircling Nigel’s neck as he lifted on his tiptoes and met the older man’s searching, increasingly demanding kiss with equal fervor, and Nigel felt how much this surprised Adam.  

This boy had never been properly kissed, and no one ever made out with him while wanting to turn him on like they wanted to fucking be alive.   

Nigel’s anger at everyone who had ever touched Adam before was fraught, torn between relief that he could be the “first” in so many ways, and rage to think of anyone not treating his boy like the ultimate treasure.  The only fucking thing that could make life worth living.  Somehow, that one person was in his unworthy, desperate grasp.

Nigel’s fists curled around Adam’s blazer, gripping the tweed with a wrenching sigh.  

“What is it?” Adam asked a little breathlessly.

“I want you,” Nigel admitted in a low, rough growl.  “I fucking need you to be mine.  I know I’m crazy.  I’m admitting to you, Adam, I’m insane when it comes to this and I will never be reasonable about how you make me feel.”

“What do you mean by this? ”

“Fucking love, Adam,” Nigel declared.  

Adam didn’t freak out.  He didn’t say Nigel really was fucking crazy because they just met.  Instead, the lovely boy swallowed, then licked his lips.  He took a couple of deep breaths to take in Nigel’s words before answering.

“You can kiss me harder, Nigel, it’s okay. I want you to.”

That was the Pandora's Box to top them all.  Nigel groaned, crushing his mouth to Adam’s with something beyond desperation.  His muscular, tattooed arms were around the boy’s skinny, provocative body, finding so many nuances of perfect beauty, from Adam’s tiny waist to his round, pert little ass.  Nigel licked gently at the seam of Adam’s lips and the boy opened to him with a surprised, small gasp.  The fingers on his shirt slowly relaxed as their tongues slid together hotly.   Playfulness was merely a prelude to incurable fever.  Nigel felt it racing through his veins, and that was fucking fine.  He’d missed this, and it – love – had never been so intense before.  That was one fucking scary revelation.  

And he wished this one moment could go on forever.  He would have happily given up all the rest of his life, which for all he fucking knew might be another ten minutes or another twenty years, or whatever, none of which would be worth even a tiny percentage of kissing Adam for the first time.  The feeling of falling in love with Adam and the realization that his heart still worked, could still give him these thrills, these emotional highs and lows, his own internal, broken roller coaster.  

“Nigel,” Adam said, breaking off their kiss at last.  He blushed again and touched his lips where they were puffy and kiss-swollen, the prettiest fucking sight in the world.  Tied with all of Adam’s other perfect qualities, of course.  

The boy’s hair was more than rumpled now, as Nigel had been wrapping it around his fingers, tugging it so that now, it was an unholy mess of curls, and even more beautiful for all that.  He was slightly panting, out of breath from how close he’d come to really fucking losing it in ways this darling creature would never guess.  And then, his heart was pounding from the effort of hiding his insanity from its full-fledged downpour, as all he could think was grabbing Adam again and never letting go.

Adam smiled wistfully.  Oblivious to Nigel’s inner turmoil, or most of it at least, he said, “I want to thank you for that, Nigel.  I’ve never had a kiss like that in my life, and even though I know it was wrong because technically I’m still with Beth…I’m glad I got to have that kiss.”

“I’ll never fucking forget it, gorgeous.”  Nigel was high octane freaking out inside, so he did his best to conceal it.  The anxiety and adoration were clear as day in his eyes, but to Nigel’s advantage the boy wasn’t much for direct eye contact.

And Nigel’s kiss had expressed nothing but pure joy, the bliss of savoring something so unbelievably sweet.  Unforgettable, alright.  He sighed and lit a cigarette.  Pretend to be cool.  Pretend you’re fine.  Pretend you’re sane.

“Are you feeling okay, Nigel?” Adam had been on the verge of bidding him a grateful goodnight, it seemed, but now he hesitated in concern, noting at last Nigel’s somewhat maniacal sucking down of the cigarette, his slightly damp cheeks and how he trembled with barely-repressed energy.

“I will be just fine, angel, always fucking am.  Dependable as can be.  My life never fucking changes, that’s what it is…”  He walked in a circle around a statue of some little cupid sort of motherfucker, barely taking in the sight of it, and in fact, almost walking right into it. 

“Do you want your life to change?”

“I’ve realized that I want to fall in love, want to be in love, but it might be too little, too late for an old troublemaker like yours truly.”  Nigel felt a little better just sharing Adam’s company and having the younger man care about him like that.  He knew that unlike other superficial assholes, Adam would gladly have sat with him for a long time listening to anything Nigel needed to say, and offering advice…maybe just a shoulder to cry on, which sounded even better.

Nigel wanted to rest his head on Adam’s shoulder and wait for the rest of the world to fuck off and never come back.  But that wasn’t all he wanted to do to Adam.  Not by a long shot.

“I think you can still have good things in your life, Nigel.  In my opinion, you are quite youthful for a man of your age, and you are handsome on a level that would be noticeable at any age.  You have a way about you that puts me at ease.  And nothing ever puts me at ease.”  Adam shrugged.  “I like you.  I bet lots of people would.”

“If they had any fucking taste,” Nigel winked with a playful smirk.  “Fuck, thank you, Adam, I needed a few kind words from an angel like you, like salve on the latest round of open emotional gored out wounds in my chest.  Metaphor,” he added quickly as Adam’s eyes got all big and worried.

Nigel once again had any number of conflicting thoughts and urges, all sewed messily together with a blood red embroidery string that said I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you….

“And how about you, kitten?  Feeling alright about whatever you decide to do with your love life?”  Nigel smiled.  His face ached and his eyes stung, begging for him to let the tears fall.  Later.  Later!  Not now!  Fuck, get a fucking grip, Nigel!

“I have decided to break up with Beth,” Adam explained.  “I’m not comfortable with several things she has done to me since we started dating, and I want to stop pretending otherwise to maintain the status quo.  You know how a lot of people say ‘life’s too short?’”

“Fucking true saying if I ever heard one.”

“It seems to be.  Whenever I think about staying with Beth, my life, my future just seem so…predictably disappointing and hurtful.  But then again, no that’s stupid, I shouldn’t say that.”

“So, you shouldn’t kiss me and you shouldn’t say what’s on your mind?  What can you do, Adam…?”

“Raki,” Adam said with a lopsided grin as he blushed.  “I can ask for your number.  If that’s not too forward.  You seem to make me unusually forward.”

***

Adam

He had once heard Harlan refer to a surprising and eventful time as “a whirlwind,” and Adam was convinced he must be having a “whirlwind” of a night.  It was nothing like what he’d expected.  When he came out with Beth he had been hoping that to his pleasant surprise it really would be a “relaxing and fun” evening.  And deep down, okay not that deep down, Adam had dreaded what he already knew: this date would be as disappointing as the last few.  His distrust for Beth was likely to grow worse, not better, as his heart became increasingly detached and he felt bad about it, somewhat trapped.

Somehow, meeting Nigel seemed to have freed him from the trapped feeling.  The mere knowledge of the handsome and rebellious, strange and remarkable older man’s number in his phone made Adam feel strong and capable for the first time in ages, maybe more so than ever before.

This might not have been a relaxing night, but it sure was turning fun!  Except for having to hurt Beth’s feelings, but he could see Nigel’s point that it couldn’t be helped.  

He hurried back to the function room with his heart thundering pleasurably, his lungs hurting from the fast walk, almost a run, and the rash, bizarre urgency to be free of Beth, tonight, now.

His senses seemed to be all full of Nigel; he couldn’t stop thinking of the man’s chiseled features, his warm amber eyes, his sexy, exotic accent, the husky way he complimented and soothed Adam.  Nigel was surely like no one else in the whole world.  Adam could not comprehend why this stunning and mischievous man who certainly seemed to have “a dark side” had fallen for him at first sight.  It was totally illogical and unlikely, yet that suddenly seemed almost to make sense.  Because Adam was also developing strong feelings about having those hot, talented lips and that wicked tongue all over him, more than just mouth to mouth, really all over…

His mind raced with nonstop thoughts about the hardness of Nigel’s muscles and how powerful his body was, holding Adam to him fiercely, with such shocking passion.  The way Nigel smelled , Adam could smell it on his own overheated skin now, a cologne combining pepper with a floral scent and something woodsy, perhaps cedar or amber, like the trouble-making hunk’s deep, intriguing eyes…it was a sultry, seductive and manly cologne, combined with Nigel’s natural scent, the heat of his nearly insuperable desire…wrong time and place be damned…it seemed suddenly perfect.

Adam was not normally one to be using the word “hunk” even in his own thoughts, and it made him blush when he got to the door of the auditorium, his heart speeding up even more.  He determined that he had to do this before his spiked adrenaline wore off, and with it this incomparable high from being in Nigel’s arms, completely controlled and pleasurably trapped by the older man’s every wicked whim.

If Nigel was a bad boy, somehow Adam had been quite a bad boy himself this evening and it was not Nigel’s fault.  In fact, Nigel’s compliments and caring remarks had been only that: words.  He had not tried to take any physical advantage or get “handsy” with Adam.  Which had only made Adam’s desire to kiss him more irresistible.  He’d gone too far and pretty much “cheated” by any definition he knew of, yet he didn’t feel like it had been cheating.  Was kissing someone else when you were in a couple elsewhere supposed to feel this good?  So right and…like waking up from a deep sleep he’d never noticed himself drifting into?

Either way, he’d have time to figure that out.  He went inside much more boldly than he’d entered the building earlier that night (which seemed like a long time ago).  Quickly advancing to the function room, he saw that the poet was done speaking on stage and was now signing autographs.  A long line of fans were waiting with hardcover copies of his latest book.  But Beth was nowhere to be seen.

He did spot her friends and hurried over to ask where Beth was.

Hilary gave him a strange look.  And for once it didn’t seem to be about Adam’s strangeness.  “Well,” she ventured awkwardly, tucking a long, red lock of hair behind one pale ear.  “I, um…I’m not sure, Adam.  But I bet if you text her she’ll get right back to you.”

“Of course,” added Marla, another member of the snobby friend group who also now looked uncomfortable instead of her usual smug demeanor.  She smoothed out her black, short-cropped hair and exchanged a concerned look with Hilary.

“Thanks,” Adam said distractedly, leaving them in line for an autograph from the poet who was probably extremely talented, though Adam had forgotten his name and nearly everything except ending this relationship.  It was about his own happiness but that also seemed to lead right to the thought of seeing Nigel again, seeing him when Adam was free and single…as soon as possible.

He searched the hallway and then started peeking into the other, smaller function rooms, assuming she would not have actually left him there.  Adam was suspicious as to her attachment to this previously-unmentioned old friend of hers who she clearly had not wanted to introduce Adam to.  He really was having a good night of other people being so obvious in their words and actions – for better or worse – that he had no difficulty reading their meaning.

Adam didn’t mean to barge into the next room he passed, a “multi-function room.”  But the door got stuck slightly when he twisted the knob and pushed.  So he gave it another experimental nudge and then it opened too fast, heavily colliding with the wall and nearly slamming back into Adam on its return journey to a closed position.

Luckily, Adam put his hand up in defense and caught the door before it could smack him in the face.  But he was more distracted by the sight he had just walked in on.  Beth, making out with her Old Friend, to be specific, on top of the table, with the Old Friend undressing her and sort of slobbering on her neck.  The first impression Adam had was of not feeling as upset by this as he should be.  Since he had kissed Nigel, he was not innocent when it came to the subject of putting one’s lips on lips other than each other’s.  So who was Adam to judge that, really?  He felt a vindicating thrill, rather than jealousy as Beth’s eyes grew wide and panicked.

Beth shoved the Old Friend off her and hurriedly buttoned her dress, grabbing for her shawl, which had been lying on the table beside their writhing bodies.  The man who had been kissing her cleared his throat and stroked his slightly graying goatee.

“You must be Adam,” he said sheepishly.

He had an accent, but not as nice and sexy as Nigel’s, not even close.  

“Yes.  Who are you?” Adam asked blankly, only mildly curious.

“I’m Pierre Allard-Dupont,” the man replied as Beth turned red and seemed to be trying to figure out anything she might say in this situation.  “Beth and I studied education together in college, although eventually I went the admin route back in Paris and Beth decided on elementary education.”

“Oh, right.  Good for you.”  Adam got a not-so-guilty “kick” out of Beth’s panic.

“Adam, please – I am so sorry – let me just explain…”

“Please do, Beth,” Pierre prompted wryly.  “I look forward to hearing this explanation myself.”

Adam started to like Pierre slightly more than Beth at that.

“It doesn’t matter, Beth,” Adam said bluntly.  “I came here to break up with you.  This just makes it a lot easier.  It’s really weird, though.”

“Yeah, oh God, Adam, we should talk this out – we shouldn’t just throw away a good thing because we both got confused and I kissed someone else.”

“That was more than kissing and I kissed someone else too, tonight.  I made up my mind, thanks to that.”

Beth gawked at him.  “Adam!  You kissed some, some total stranger?  You need to be more careful than that.  This person could be anyone, you can’t just go around–”

“I can, actually.”  Adam felt a new and liberating peacefulness enter his mind.  “I don’t want to date you anymore.  If you want, we can be friends.  I do like you but I don’t like being with you romantically at all anymore.”

“But–”  Beth stared at Adam in disbelief that he was “ throwing their love away .”  “This was nothing it was an indiscretion – I can–”

“Nothing?  Vraiment?  Rien, mon cher?”  Pierre finished fixing his shirt collar and put his blazer back on.  “I don’t think so.  You can call me when that hits you, maybe by tomorrow or so.”

He left with an air of cool disdain and yet certainty Beth would indeed come around.  

“Is that what people mean when they refer to a French person as ‘so French’?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Beth admitted with a rueful little laugh.  “Oh, Adam, what you must think of me.  I’m so sorry…we have to talk this out–”

“No,” Adam repeated.  “I’m going to call an Uber.  You can go home with Hilary and Marla.”

“Adam!  We’ve weathered some hard times before, we can work this out.  I really care about you, don’t just walk –”  She begged him, but the begging sounded like her half-hearted almost-apologies which Adam knew all too well.

Adam wasn’t going to stay here anymore; he was done dating Beth and she couldn’t pressure him to remain in the dim multi-purpose room while she ‘explained’ about Pierre.

“No,” Adam said once again, getting quite irritated by now, “I said no.  I’m leaving.  Thank you for everything.  We can talk in maybe a week when we’ve had time to readjust.”

“A week?  Adam, that’s crazy.  We’ve been – you have to give us a ch–”

Adam got exasperated, and yet a thrum of victorious humor ran through him when he remembered what to say if she wouldn’t listen to him.  Wouldn’t be broken up with.  Like it was optional, or like no one would dare break up with Beth Buchwald the Perfect.

He declared emphatically, “Bitch, we’re done!”

Which felt really kind of weird, wrong, satisfying and – he didn’t even know what else.  But there was no taking it back now.

And he heard her gasp of shock as he left her in the multipurpose room, closing the door behind him.  

Chapter Text

“Step one
You must accept that I'm a little out my mind
Step two
This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line
Step three
Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion
Step four
Give me more, give me more, more” -Melanie Martinez

***

Nigel

Nigel used to delude himself about only one thing, and not very convincingly at that. But while he was a “balls to the walls” sort of person in general, looking at the truth of his own flaws was often too unpleasant on an actual daily basis.

So he made up a fairy tale for himself and everyone else, hoping that if he could make Darko and Gabi and Charlie fucking Countryman and his employees, enemies, the whole world believe it was true, eventually he’d buy into it, without even noticing the change.

Playing mind games with oneself was not quite as easy as Nigel had assumed. The story was that he “liked” being insane, that living on the edge of his own gourmet penchant for disaster was fun. That he was the free-wheeling, scary, badass, legendary bad man Nigel, who you stayed away from if you might even know someone who had offended him.

He sold the concept that he was having the time of his life every day, running his strip clubs and his drug rackets, lording over his real estate holdings. Rising from obscurity and dirt to become respected and feared, even if he was not loved or truly wanted anywhere.

Nigel didn’t need fucking hero worship even from his own people (his own minions, mostly, except for Darko); so he had lied about enjoying his own insanity, which was much more believable than “Nigel, the fucking hero.”

Being respected meant having every stupid fucking rival tremble and wet themselves, run away just to get shot nonchalantly in the back of the head, or get their fucking throat slit when he caught up and wrapped a powerful arm around them like a boa constrictor. Like the fucking snake he was, since there was not one word of a fucking lie to that.

This was badass, and it was going to have to be enough because Nigel could not be any better.

It was almost inconceivable that he had evolved quite so far as he had, never mind becoming a decent or likable person (impossibilities). His childhood was a discordant song of half-repressed abuse and elusive tenderness. When he struck out alone at the ripe old age of sixteen, it was to become a Man by making something really special of himself.

To Nigel it was all about power. He didn’t understand much else, given…the circumstances of his youth. If a man had power, he had control over everyone else in their life-realm, and that little world was sufficient as a starting point for a boy who saw himself as a future kingpin. It was a long way up the fucking ladder in the criminal underworld, with someone trying to kick you off between every rung, but he made it.

It used to be a whole lot fucking easier shutting his conscience up, too, before he cared about anyone. Kiss of fucking death, that. Bad enough he still had Darko, plus a small group of trusted employees who were so fucking loyal as to follow him from Romania to the States. They’d never let him down. Even Darko hadn’t. The shit that went down between the two of them before they were friends? He didn’t count it. They had a few disputes and even some altercations when they were younger, but he was pleased they both survived, unlikely as it was with two hard-headed motherfuckers like them.

And, Nigel reminded himself, not sure if his inner voice sounded more wry or downright snide, Darko now has a fucking romantic side, too.

What the fuck, did he catch it from me like that stupid fucking horror movie where the blonde bitch keeps going from one poor sap to the next and letting them fuck her so she can evade a crazy fucking ghost thing which would go after whoever had sex most recently?

(That had either been an actual movie Nigel had seen late at night one time, or it was a weird dream he remembered as a movie, he wasn’t sure.)

Was Nigel fucking contagious or what? Well, in the movie of his real life, Nigel had not lost his romantic side when Darko gained one, not like that horror movie chick giving her pussy left and right to any guy she could, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with the ghost on her fucking back.  Comparatively, that seemed like a much easier solution; at least the instructions were fucking clear.  Love was a vortex of incomprehensible, yet completely enveloping chaos, and it would suck him in and tear him apart every time.

He guessed everyone had a ghost on their back at some point. But there was no escaping the Love sickness that had him in a strangling grip once again.

Nigel had been so fucking close to squeezing his heart into blackened dust so that this exact thing that was happening, beyond his control, with Adam, Would. Not. happen. Ever. Again.

And now everything was fucking upside down, inside out, topsy fucking turvy. Clearly including his mad, wild thoughts. He couldn’t keep up with or one hundred percent understand them…it was a raging storm in his mind, always way out ahead of him with so many different worries, obsessions, complaints, resentments, rages and miseries that he felt like a small, half-forgotten raindrop. He drowned himself in himself because he had no fucking self-control.

“Fuck it,” Nigel grumbled, taking a last puff off the end of a particularly pathetic end nub of a cigarette the morning after meeting Adam fucking Raki. He took his phone out just to check one more time if the gorgeous boy, that angel who was so far out of his league it was more like galaxies worth of disparity between them, if Adam had texted him.

There his brain went again, these bizarre, distracting tangents, whiplashing him with frenzied ideas and paranoias, mixed metaphors. This mood always made him fucking paranoid, and he knew he’d gone and got all fucked in the head again because he knew how bad being in love was for him and he’d only gone and fucking fallen in love again like the prize fucking prat of the whole universe, hadn’t he? FUCK.

The apartment Nigel shared with Darko was a lovely, big and airy space with an impressive balcony overlooking a nice view of the New York City skyline. At the current moment, the sky was painted in brightening peach streaks across purple, puffy clouds as the sun gradually shifted upwards. He stood with his elbows on the ledge of the balcony trying to stop thinking and then landing in a great big pit of snakes in his mind.

“Look again look again he could have fucking texted” had been his only cogent train of thought since he got back home, finding he had the place to himself. Once again, Darko was no fucking help, doubtless sneaking into a dorm to have a night of loooove with his cradle-robbed girlfriend like the fucking embarrassing idiot he was. Which left Nigel alone without anyone to mock him, call him on his shit or otherwise take him out of his own head.

The snakes coiled in his head were thick and choking, with poisoned fangs that sank into him when Adam had not yet texted, but then, at 8:20am he glanced down at his previously traitorous phone screen, blearily squinting with reddened amber eyes at a new text notification.

He almost dropped the phone over the fucking balcony. What the fuck! Get it together! If he’d done that, he might have jumped after it – the phone, for now at least, was his fucking lifeline, his nourishment, being his only current connection to Adam –

Adam, who had messaged him! Finally…after Nigel had waited and waited from fucking ten o’clock the night before, all the way to 8:20 the next day without a wink of sleep, finally it had turned out alright and his breath came back to his lungs.

He pictured Adam’s blue eyes and serene, but nervous smile, a smile that flexed tentatively into a grin sometimes when Nigel flattered him sincerely, meaning every adoring word. And he thought of the boy’s soft curls, his pink, luscious lips, that jawline which had been stolen off an ancient statue of godly perfection or some shit –

And his heart was speeding but it wasn’t running away from him anymore and neither were his thoughts. Getting a text from his Adam had glued all the tiny little fragments of Nigel back together, so easily.

Before and without Adam, those tiny, countless shards of Nigel were so scattered, not one of them matching with the edges of another. He could never begin to reassemble who he was. Clarity came with a gush of relief that might be fucking stupid and ill-advised. And he could do nothing but fall right into that blissful excitement.

There was simply nowhere else he’d rather be and apparently no fucking chance he ever could have made himself over as a cynic, despite his best efforts. He had stalked, hurt, tortured, maimed, verbally assaulted on an epic level, and viciously killed enough fuckers in his time that he ought to be a burned out, empty husk by now.

Instead, he was a font of sweet, pained yearning; he only wanted to pour out all over his beloved. He wanted to think someone would want this fucked up heart of his and his bruised, fractured thinking and scattershot emotions, his obsessive, crushing love.

But if the someone wasn’t Adam, he just couldn’t care less. Now, he stared in disbelief at the text that made life worth living, gave him a whole new fucking lease on it.

Without hearing from Adam again, he would have gone insaner than usual, he’d want to fucking die, thank GOD for Adam, for whatever stars up there had aligned to impossibly bring two opposite, matching souls together.

He rubbed his thumb shakily over the screen, momentarily pausing before even reading it. The text was almost too fucking precious for him to touch, lest he suddenly wake up in bed to see this had been nothing but a foolish dream. It had to be real.

Adam couldn’t possibly know what it meant to him, this one fucking text. The racing of his heartbeat had changed from prolonged, painful panic (an unfortunately familiar sensation, thank you fucking Gabi…) of anticipation and assuming and dreading the worst and fleetingly hoping for the best before convincing himself it didn’t fucking exist for people like him, to a gallop of pure joy.

He didn’t even fucking know if he’d ever been quite so happy, and yet, Adam had sent such a ridiculously simple, shy and mild-mannered text. Nigel wiped tears from his stinging eyes, last night’s too-many whiskeys burning in his throat as he fought the urge to fucking sob.

Adam: Good morning, Nigel. I hope you don’t mind me texting so early. I’m an early riser, how about you?

***
Adam

It was probably too early to text anyone on a Saturday, much less a near-stranger, but Adam had failed in every attempt to put it off for another second.

He could barely even take his shower without fumbling constantly, almost dropping the shampoo. He almost cut himself afterwards, shaving in the mirror. All things Adam never usually did. The routine normally kept his anxiety in safe check, but he felt all disorganized in a pleasurable way that baffled him.

His morning bowl of All Bran had no appeal whatsoever as his stomach was so overactive, excited, all fluttering – like how Julia Roberts talked about her character in Pretty Woman on Inside the Actor’s Studio.

And now what? Like most people, Nigel was probably asleep. Adam sighed, sitting alone at his little, forlorn table in his navy bathrobe, t-shirt and boxers, bare feet tapping impatiently on the floor, hands twitching reflexively.

He wasn’t exactly worried, upset, sad, or thinking he wouldn’t receive a reply from Nigel. That conversation the night before, and their wonderful kisses, had convinced Adam that the older man’s feelings were equal to his own. And it was downright strange, not having to wonder. He had never known how Beth felt about anything, even after he asked and she replied and he took some time to sensitively think about what she said.

Nigel just…said things.

Nigel just took things…like Adam’s little, breathy face in his huge, warm, rough hands, like Adam’s shivering, needy, skinny body in his powerful arms. Arms Adam knew were dangerous. He was not a savvy person when it came to understanding people, but once again…Nigel was not subtle. He had spoken quite openly, and his appearance left little room for doubt. Nigel had all of this nervous energy about him, but was determined to act and seem smooth, cool, until he just…couldn’t anymore.

And the fire that Nigel became when he lost his self-control was the most beautiful sensation in which Adam had ever been engulfed. He had never been so utterly swept away. His lips still tingled, his body trembling…he had…not felt this way about Beth, ever. Was this how he found out that he had not actually been falling for her? He felt silly now that he knew what genuine attraction felt like.

Attraction? A crush? Love? Nigel said “love” last night…he never made anything up, did he?  Adam had taken him at his word about how he was an open book.

“No filter” is what Harlan would say about Nigel, maybe with disapproval, but Adam was in no hurry to share the story of Nigel with his friend. He liked having the rebellious, wildcard, entirely unexpected Nigel all to himself, his own special secret.

Adam had been sitting there, becoming more anxious, but still feeling light and strangely happy, for maybe ten minutes of not eating his All Bran when his phone beeped.

1 New Message: Nigel

He squeaked and jumped a little in his chair, and then his hands seemed to be trembling. With focus, Adam picked up the phone and tried not to be too nervous and excited to even text.

Had Nigel just woken up, or had he taken ten minutes formulating a reply to Adam’s text? Erasing potential answers, cursing under his breath, scratching his head and frowning, then starting over?

Except for the cursing, that was how Adam had been feeling when he composed his own message. He just thought…Nigel would probably curse because he couldn’t seem to get through a sentence without saying the f-word (and usually a colorful assortment of other metaphors to accompany “fuck,” “fucking,” “fucked,” “motherfucker,” and so on).

Nigel: Good morning, gorgeous. It’s never too early to hear from you. How did you sleep? 😘

Adam: I slept well. But I had a bit of a hard time falling asleep at first. I finally put on my sleep mask and my white noise machine, which helped me to disconnect from everything that had happened and go to sleep by midnight.

He paused for a second with the “....” on the screen informing Nigel he was still typing. His cheeks were still warm and pink from Nigel’s kiss emoji, which emboldened him. And then he added, smiling to himself,

Adam: I don’t like staying up later than ten usually, but it was a special occasion. Or, well, I guess it felt like a special night to me. A lot of unexpected things happened!

Nigel: You bet your cute little ass it was a special occasion. 😍 And to think I fucking reamed Darko within an inch of his life for taking me to that poetry reading. It was probably the best thing anyone ever did for me, it led me to you. But we can never fucking tell him that; I’ll never live that shit down.

Adam: It sounds like you and Darko have been friends for a long time, from what you mentioned last night. That must be nice! 🙂

Adam grinned, immensely pleased with himself for holding up his end of the texting conversation. Any kind of human-to-human communication could be challenging for him, but Nigel was proof positive that it all depended on the other person. It wasn’t hard thinking of stuff to say to Nigel, and he wasn’t wrapped up in stress over accidentally offending the man. With a small giggle, he wondered what it would even take to offend Nigel.

Nigel: Guess you could say that, angel. He’s a pain in the ass, but we’ve pretty much been attached at the hip one way or another since we were fucking idiot teenagers running headfirst into the bad side of town, looking for trouble – we found it, alright! 🤣

Adam: I have heard that it’s normal for teenagers to go through a rebellious phase. Although I didn’t…I mostly just read a lot about space and tried not to let the bullies stuff me into the lockers.

Nigel: Assholes. They were just jealous of you, baby. Tell me, do you happen to remember any of their names? I wouldn’t mind looking them up and giving them a substantial piece of my mind.

Adam: Are you being serious? I mean I assume that they only bothered me because teenagers are supposed to be ‘little pricks’ (that’s what my gym teacher said, while also advising me to grow a pair. I told him I already had grown a pair, though I suspected from one of the bully’s voices that he had not grown a pair yet)

(.... is typing….)

Adam: And then Mr. Gianotti said I better not mention that to Troy. (That was the bully.). Since I was the only one not acting like a ‘little prick’ in one way or another, I thought I was the one doing something wrong. I could never “go with the flow” like other people did, or wanted me to. Sorry, this is way too long!

Nigel: You talk as long as you want, gorgeous, I’m here to listen. Now, in answer to your question…I’m being as serious or not serious as you’d like me to be. To address your story, darling, of course you didn’t fit in with a crowd of fucking asshole loser degenerates who weren’t worthy to tie your shoelaces. Fuck them, anyway. You know where they are now? They probably sit around, ugly, poor and miserable, getting wasted at the local fucking dive bar, complaining about the loss of their ‘glory-days’, and meanwhile, look at you, science and stars genius! ✨💫😘

Adam: Thank you, Nigel. 🙂 But, you should not hurt anyone else because of me. I was just sharing some of my past, although it may have been somewhat of a tangent. I’m not sure. I was responding to your comment about how you and Darko had been ‘fucking idiot teenagers.’ But being an idiot is not mean and awful like being a bully. Maybe we would have been friends if we met at that time. Although I guess the age difference would have been weird when we were younger.

Nigel: Teenage me did not deserve to be anywhere near your pristine, pretty and brilliant little self, darling, but I would have looked out for you, kept you safe. And if you said the word, then or now, I’d fucking thrash those bullies until they wished they were never born. 😘 Anyway, since you said not to, they can live, for now 😉

(...)

Nigel: Although I did take down the name of that fucking rat bastard gym teacher you mentioned, just in case. What did you say the name of the school was, beautiful?

Adam: Nigel!

Nigel: Ok, ok, baby, I promise not to hurt them. You could talk me into or out of fucking anything, I swear.  Listen, sweetheart, I’ve got a very big favor to ask…would you send me a selfie of yourself just right now, in this moment? I miss your pretty face so much. 😍

Adam stood up, holding the phone in one hand, and wiped a bit of orange juice from his lips with the back of his other one. He ran to the full-length mirror in his bedroom and decided he looked fine, if not anything fancy or special. Just pajamas-Adam with his hair a little messy from sleeping.

His lips were slightly plump and reddened from nervously nibbling and sucking on them, recalling the exact feeling of Nigel’s mouth on his, Nigel’s tongue and his teeth and…! Adam blushed more brightly, thinking at least that meant he didn’t look too pale.

He combed his fingers through his soft curls a few times. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, held the phone in front of him with his arm stretched out, and lifted the phone enough to show not just his face, but most of his body, too.

Although he felt shy about showing his body, he remembered Nigel’s hands on it. This made him feel both confident and excited about sending the picture.

Recently, a co-worker had taken mercy on Adam’s crooked and confused photo-taking “skills,” showing him how to take great photos of other people or himself.

He smiled at the picture, deciding it was okay, and his robe color seemed to match his eye color, which might be sort of nice. He pressed send and tried not to be too nervous about Nigel’s opinion or reply.

Nigel: You’re so fucking beautiful, baby, it tears my soul to pieces. Adam, you look AMAZING. Just want to kiss you a thousand more times, if you don’t mind my saying…

Adam: Nigel, you’re so…I don’t know. Different. I never had anyone say that about me, especially when I was in my pj’s! Thank you for being so kind. Will you send me a photo of you now, please? I miss your face, too. 🙂

Nigel: Your wish is my command, babydoll, remember that.

Adam squeezed the phone tightly, almost as if it was Nigel’s hand. He was so excited to get this selfie! This must be why people talked about dating and exchanging pictures with people they liked, which had always sounded like a boring and confusing process to Adam. He might be starting to understand it better.

The photo of Nigel came through just moments later as his phone gave a short, merry chime. Adam’s heart jumped and he actually let out a breathy moan, feeling sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck. He was hot all over but trembling like he was cold.

Nigel…

In the selfie, Nigel had on a black t-shirt with a low collar that showed plenty of his tanned chest and silver chest hair. Adam’s eyes traveled in lustful fascination over Nigel’s strong, beautiful neck, his sculpted facial features, his burning amber gaze.

Nigel’s silver-blonde hair was tousled, some of it hanging over his forehead and one eye with devil-may-care charm. A five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and jaw made Adam want to run his fingers over the stubble, or even use his mouth…his tongue…he turned scarlet and bit his lip.

And a teasing, provoking look on Nigel’s face tugged on a warm feeling of needy pleasure in his low stomach that began to grow as he stared.

Adam: You look extremely handsome and sexy, Nigel…I get a little overwhelmed to see you like that, to be honest. And thinking about seeing you in person feels almost too unbelievable or too intense by comparison. Maybe that’s silly.

Nigel: You make me so fucking crazy, Adam, I swear to Christ. You’ll be my fucking undoing and I’ll go down in flames with a huge smile on my face. God! Do you know how your fucking little flirty comments affect me? Please, baby, can I have one more selfie from you? 🙏 Maybe this time…without the robe…and the t-shirt? 😍

Adam: Okay. Nigel…? This is making me sexually excited. 🙂

He set the phone down and started undressing, in the interim receiving a long line of further fire emojis, heart faces, kisses and so on.

His shy grin made his cheeks hurt as his heart pounded so fast, he thought it must be out of control. He’d gotten a hard-on from Nigel’s photo and now his cock was throbbing, although he left it alone for now, eager for whatever came next.

Quickly, without letting himself be self-conscious, which he might have been if he lingered or second-guessed, Adam snapped a photo of himself lying on the bed, on his back, shirtless with his pajama pants’ waistband the last thing before the photo cut off.

His hard cock was pressing insistently against his pants a little lower, but he didn’t include that for now.

This was enough of a leap! Adam had never sent a shirtless selfie before and felt incredibly bashful. But he was also so aroused that there was no way he wasn’t going to send it to Nigel.

Nigel: Oh, baby boy. The things I wanna do to you, trust me, you cannot imagine.

Adam: really? May I have a shirtless picture of you, too, please?

Only a moment seemed to have passed with baited breath before Adam heard the “text received” chime again.

Nigel: (sends pic…). here you go, babydoll, I know that I’m hardly the catch of the fucking century, but for what it’s worth, I’m all yours. ❤️

Adam looked at the picture, noting Nigel’s mischievous smile and how it lit up his whole handsome face. And the rebellious danger of him — which Adam barely even understood — shone through in every part of Nigel. His thick, glossy, beautiful hair had a hint of gold light from the sun coming through a nearby window, and the same light accentuated his big, strong, mouth-watering physique.

Sunlight poured over his gorgeous pecs and the softness of his belly above the waist of what must be his pajama pants, black, silky-looking, and low-slung. Adam admired how the golden light dappled over Nigel’s silver chest hair and more hair on his belly, leading straight down to that low-hanging pair of pants - above which, Adam could see his “v” lines.

There were tattoos all over Nigel’s body, from his hands and wrists, up his arms, across his chest, down his torso. Some looked older and more faded than others. Adam wanted to study each one up close, to kiss and bite at them. At the same time, the deep, harsh-looking, long scar running down one side of Nigel’s torso made him want to kiss it slowly, seductively but in comfort, too. Scars, tattoos and all, Nigel was Adam’s dream man incarnate.

He felt pleasantly dizzy and had to rub one hand on his cock to relieve the pent up tension. The picture cut off politely (ha!) right there, not showing lower on Nigel, and Adam found himself dying to know if Nigel was hard, too.

Adam: I don’t think you and I share the same opinion of you, Nigel. You’re such a beautiful, erotic man, and when you say these romantic or sexual things to me, I feel so special.  Nigel, looking at your photo makes me want to touch and kiss you…badly.

Nigel: How can you be so sweet and fucking sexy as hell at the same time? Are you hard right now, baby? I sure as fuck am, lying here imagining your gorgeous body, imagining you as mine.

Adam: I’ve been hard since the first picture you sent. I keep thinking about…being underneath you. How big and strong you would feel, pressing down on me, doing whatever you want with me. I think about our age difference and it makes me feel even more aroused.

Nigel: Aww. Yeah, baby, you need Daddy to take care of you? Hmm? Looking for someone older and more experienced, rough and juuuust a bit too bossy between the sheets?

Adam: thank goodness I’ve heard about Daddy kink or I would be very confused now. Instead I’m very …. Turned on by you…more than I’ve ever been turned on before.

(Pause…) (…Adam is typing …)

Adam: I wanted to tell you that …just so you know… I am somewhat knowledgeable about what goes on. With, you know, sex between men. I have no real life experience, but I have watched a large amount of pornography demonstrating a wide variety of acts, styles, positions, and methods. 🙂

Nigel: That so, my naughty little minx? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised - a body like yours is made for sin…🔥

Adam glanced at the framed photos on his bureau from his college graduation and a night he and his dad had gone to see a show, last year.

He took in the familiar sight of his “nerdy” dress style…the wholesome sweaters and button-up shirts, khaki slacks, corduroys, jeans that were too clean and new-looking to be cool, and they were never tight fitting enough to show anything off.

Adam looked at his own skinny, highly aroused body on the bed and still had no idea what Nigel meant. Why did the older man keep talking as if Adam was devastatingly sexy and had a “body made for sin?” He was just Adam.

He decided he sure didn’t mind Nigel’s rapturous sweet talk, though. Or the two of them seducing each other.

In the past, Adam had only experienced himself offering sex on the rare occasion it seemed okay and possible, and sometimes he would get a no and sometimes a yes but it was never exciting.

He used to feel more like he was lucky or his lover just felt sorry for him for being “a freak” who was obviously lonely and craving attention.

Beth had only slept with him sparingly, when she was in a particularly good mood, and then he could never tell how much she liked it.

He just did his best and hoped for the best case scenario but — this was nothing like that at all. Nigel craved Adam. For real.

Tears were gathering in his eyes as Nigel texted again, with a photo of his big, veiny hand sliding under the waistband of his pants, moving towards his cock…

Nigel: tell me what kind of porn you like, beautiful - touch yourself and imagine it’s me. I’ll do the same and imagine your pretty hands wrapped around me, your perfect mouth….😋

Adam laughed, a shocked and amazed sound more than one of humor. With his cheeks bright red, he sent Nigel a photo of him with a hand over the bulge in his pants.

Adam: I think I would like that… Daddy. Do you want me to call you that? Or were you just using a figure of speech?

Nigel: I want you to call me Daddy like I wanna keep breathing. Tell me what kind of stuff you watch, and how you get off. The mere thought of you touching yourself is almost as fucking HOT as me touching you. Which I intend to, Adam. A whole fucking lot. 😍🔥😘

Adam: Ok, Daddy. 🙂 It feels nice calling you that and it makes me harder. I mostly stroke myself until I come, although occasionally I like to touch myself…back there. And think about having a cock inside me.

Sometimes I have watched videos of daddies and their boys…mostly a little bit of spanking and then lovemaking. They are always some of my favorites.

Nigel: oh, FUCK yeah, babydoll - me too. I always go right for those fucking videos and wish I had a beautiful, perfect boy like you. Are you into a little bit of discipline? Would you enjoy me spanking your cute, pert little ass? Maybe even while I’m inside you, fucking you nice and hard until you scream my name?

Adam: Nigel - I won’t last long!  Gosh, I just can’t believe I make you feel like that…I wish you would do exactly that to me and show me what turns you on - make my body all yours.

Nigel: You should come any fucking time you want, angel, as many times as you can. You deserve to have your tight little body pushed to the limit and past it. I want to wipe every feeling or memory that isn’t pleasure away and show you how mine you are now.

Maybe I’d smack your ass while I’m opening you with my fingers. Would you moan for me, cry and beg?

Tell me more about the porn you like, it’s so hot when you tell me your secrets and fantasies. Want you, Adam. So fucking much. I fucking need you.

Adam: oh, Nigel I’m so close! Umm —

(…….)

Adam: I … I prefer when both participants in a pornographic film or clip are attractive without having had extensive plastic surgery. I like when they moan while they’re doing it…I’m moaning for you right now. And something in the theme or premise has to be a little taboo or illicit? I don’t know why. But those videos turn me on the most. The most until now, with you.

Nigel: So…maybe a Daddy with an edge to him, plus a talent for spanking and fucking a special, exquisite boy like you is what you need.

Adam: yes, Daddy! I’m — gonna come so so hard…for you…

Adam moved his hand faster and gripped his wet, rock hard dick even more snugly, fucking his fist as wantonly as any porn star. Any of those lucky boys who had those wicked, rough, handsome daddies…but they were performers and it was just a fantasy. This was real, and Adam was going to have the fantasy for real —- he was gonna —-

His eyesight blurred as his orgasm ripped through him with tidal force — his moaning cries were of Nigel’s name, and loud enough he distantly hoped the other tenants in his building wouldn’t hear — but as the ecstasy took him over head to toe, making him feel Nigel everywhere — he decided he didn’t even care. There was cum on his skin and the sheets, thick and more than he usually produced, and in a couple of minutes he’d grab the box of tissues on the side table and clean up. But knowing Nigel had made him come made the sensation of the warm, sticky release much hotter and less bothersome than ever before.

He lay staring up at the ceiling and seeing Nigel, easily visualizing the sexy pictures he was too worn out to look at until he got the dexterity in his wrist and hands back or could think straight. With a lopsided grin on his face, naked and splayed on his innocent, small bed with its plain navy blue plaid blanket, Adam shivered, sweating. Tears filled his eyes again as he breathed quickly, chaotic, short breaths full of spliced-together fantasies and images in his mind’s eye.

Like him and Nigel acting out some of the scenarios in the videos Adam had watched the most times…

And now, he just had to know if Nigel had orgasmed too.

Adam: I came for you, Daddy. A lot — I can barely move now. Feels so good.

Nigel: that’s my good boy, Adam 😘😘🔥🔥😍😍! Naughty, perfect little angel of mine. I fucking came like a freight train to you just now. Imagining every bad, bad thing I wanna do to you all night long, every night, if I had it my way.

Adam shivered again, grinning and blushing even more deeply. His cock was entirely spent for now, but Nigel’s words made it try to reawaken with a twitch. A small current of hot pleasure- pain shot through Adam and he whimpered in surprise.

His hand, spread over his smooth chest where he had been playing with his nipples right before he came, felt a rivulet of sweat which had trickled down from his neck, past his collarbones, now slowly sliding down between his pectorals.

He traced the sweat trail and imagined Nigel licking it - he remembered how Nigel’s tongue felt feverishly thrusting into his mouth the night before and gasped.

Adam: I don’t know if you would consider last night a date or just the night we met, but in either case would you like to have another date with me? Or, I guess a first date depending if you think last night was one. Tomorrow? If you’re free?

Nigel: If I'm free, gorgeous? 😉😍 You’ll be lucky if you ever get rid of me now! 🤣

But let’s start with tomorrow. Which I hereby declare is our first official date. Anything you wanna do, kitten, anything at all. Want you to be comfortable and happy when you’re with me. Want to make you smile and laugh, kiss that pretty smile…oh, baby, you knock the breath out of me.

Adam: I hope you can breathe okay, Nigel, but also….thank you 🙂

Nigel: breathing ok is overrated. I like you taking my breath away. Only you, Adam.

Adam: you are impressively talented at making me blush. Nobody makes me blush this much, except for you.

Nigel: well yeah I fucking better be the only one making your pretty face go all warm and pink. All mine, baby.

Adam didn’t bother taking time to ask if Nigel was being appropriate or not when he said things that were so wild and possessive. Maybe it was because Adam knew very well that Nigel was behaving obsessively and it was far from normal after meeting someone once.

That did nothing to change the fact that Adam loved how passionate and intense Nigel was, that edge of knowing this was a little crazy, knowing that anyone outside the situation would probably disapprove. This only made him more and more aroused.

The more obsessed Nigel seemed, the hotter and harder Adam got, and feeling out of control had never in his life been a good feeling…but he felt much better than good. It wasn’t only sexual, this longing for Nigel was in his heart, too. Adam felt that it was something to protect.

He couldn’t bring himself to ponder sensible, moral and safety-based precautions, not now. Nigel’s kind of madness had a delirious effect on Adam. Like an addiction…

Adam: and you would be all mine, too. Maybe you would like to stargaze with me? On the roof of my apartment building? It’s completely safe, don’t worry. The sky is going to be incredibly clear tomorrow.

In the low southwestern horizon we may be able to make out a close encounter between the planet Venus and the crescent moon. Venus will be incredibly bright and vivid, and the moon will seem quite delicate. They look close enough to collide, although of course that’s an optical illusion.

It is really worth seeing. I also have an excellent telescope from last Christmas and it was such a big present that it was my only present last year and that was fine with me! My dad and Harlan pitched in together to get it for me. I can make hot chocolate or coffee if you want? If you’re interested in coming over to my place or stargazing or both, I mean….

Nigel: there’s nothing else I would rather do than see the stars in your eyes again, darling. Real ones this time. You just send the address and let me know how to get in…and what time. I’ll be bursting out of my fucking skin till then, just waiting, dying to get to you. 😍✨💫

Adam: I’ll send my address! Around 9 would be ideal for the best view. And if you can text when you’re downstairs, I’ll come down and let you in 🙂🙂 I can’t wait either, Nigel.

Nigel: perfect, just like you, my bright star, my gorgeous, irresistible boy. I have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember. 😘

Chapter Text

“She’s out of my league
In every single way
And can you believe
She’s sleeping at my place
It’s just a matter of time but i hope she never realizes
She’s so much better than me” -LANY

***

Nigel.

“Would you look at this,” Darko chuckled, lingering by the door of Nigel’s room with a trademark menacing smirk. “Where the fuck are you going, Romeo?”

Nigel finished fastening the cuffs on a new, fitted, deep blue button-up shirt and carefully adjusted the collar. He turned his head from side to side, making sure he was showing just enough neck and a hint of his chest, but not too much. The exact measurements of which only earned his attention when he had Somewhere to Be.

And tonight, Nigel was going to the only place he wanted to be, for as long as he could keep it, as long as he could love Adam…he wanted to look his absolute best for his baby. Thoughts of Adam and those sexy pictures on Nigel’s phone…the boy’s delirious, innocent voice during their phone sex session…

They hadn’t even fucked yet, he reflected, and Adam was already the reason he wasn’t getting a fucking wink of sleep. Ah, well. Fucking worth it.

“Hey, what planet are you on, Nigel, asked you a fucking question and you’re floating off to Neptune or some shit.”

Nigel laughed. “Pretty sure that is astronomically-scientifically impossible, my friend. And, did I forget to mention?” With a wide grin, he winked at Darko and added, “Fuck you.”

“Okay, you’ve known junior Dr. Science for two days – I fucking guess? – and suddenly you’re the astrology expert?”

“Just in love with the expert,” Nigel said with a quieter, thoughtful smile.

He gently slapped aftershave on, remembering as his hand tapped the fragrance onto his warm skin, how Adam had liked this smell. Plus, his star boy liked Nigel’s natural tendency to run warm and to give huge hugs, deep kisses and sweet words to the gorgeous boy of his dreams.

“Right, seeing him tonight, are we? Spit it the fuck out, I’ve got a date as well. Can’t wait around here for you to dish the fucking dirt.”

“Oh? Same girl from the other night?”

Darko scowled and mimicked his friend in a high-pitched tone while lighting a cigarette. “Same girl from the other night?” He puffed it and tossed off a cursory, “Yes, the same fucking girl, fuck you, Nigel.”

“What is this, a full week, Mr. 'Commitment is My Mortal Enemy'? How the mighty have seemingly risen to the level of basic human companionship which might extend beyond three rolls in the hay and ghosting them shortly thereafter.”

“How was I supposed to know there was actually anything to this love shit? You’ve been no help at all, you know. What kind of fucking example do you think you’ve set? Every time you’ve fallen in love, your whole life has gone through a shredder and I find myself scrambling to find all the pieces. Cause for damn sure whoever decimated you never sticks around to make sure you’re fucking alive when you’re done ‘giving your all for the love,’” as you say.”

“It’s called ‘having a heart,’ Darko, you can try it sometime. I think you’re almost there. If that hot little number of yours with her booksmarts and smiles can’t pull some emotion out of you, I’ll just have to take you to the Wizard to get you a Real Boy’s Heart, and that’s fucking final.”

“I can handle myself. More concerned with your heart being big enough to collapse this whole fucking city. So I have a responsibility here. Preparation. No way am I missing a single detail of what is sure to be a memorable Romantic Nigel Adventure. If I pay attention to your moods and running commentary, then it all goes to hell in a handbag with a grenade in it, I’ll know why the fuck I’m peeling you off the sidewalk or bailing your sorry ass out of jail in fucking Cancun or what-the-fuck-ever.”

“I prefer to keep you in suspense,” Nigel quipped, eyes sparkling. “Know what, asshole, you could say anything right now – well, almost anything – without offending me. I’m on top of the fucking world with nowhere to go but up.”

Darko moved back slightly to let Nigel out of the room, hands raised as the cigarette dangled from his mouth; his stance was that of an animal control officer letting a rabid dog out and already regretting it.

“Listen, at the risk of sounding like I give a fuck,” Darko mused, puffing on the diminishing ends of the cigarette, “You’ve said that before, Nigel. We both know you’ve had some steep fucking falls down. A friend might recall how close you came to getting shot in the head because –”

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have any annoying, pessimistic fucking so-called friends around,” Nigel responded cheerfully. “And I recall not getting shot in the head because I’m not only a hopeless romantic with the soul of a fucking poet, but also a really good fucking jumper, and a better swimmer.”

Darko squinted at him as he trailed his friend to the kitchen, where Nigel hummed to himself as he prepared a coffee, placing the k-cup in the machine, lining up his mug on the small platform and pressing the cup size button, for all the world like he was Cinderella or Snow white with goddamn animated birds and squirrels and shit scurrying around singing along with him about his good fortune.

Nigel’s mug had been a gift from one of the guys in their little relocated crew of Romanian gangsters. Its art featured broken glass and streaks of blood, along with the slogan, “Well, that escalated quickly.” Usually, Darko found it funnier, but at the moment, the truth of the sentiment brought some unpleasant memories to light.

“Hello, earth to Nigel…?” Darko stepped closer and waved a hand in front of Nigel’s face, annoyed by his friend’s tireless smiling and positivity. It was just never a good sign. For some people, pride came before a fall, but for Nigel, it was love that came before the blood, glass, dirty river water, months of grueling recovery and starting over, and months of depression. “You are totally not at fucking home, man, are you?”

“Never been more myself, never felt more like I’m going home when I’m going to my Adam,” Nigel shrugged happily, then slapped Darko’s hand away. “Asshole.”

“What happened to ‘never falling in love again’? To ‘fuck feelings’ and ‘I finally learned my lesson,’ what happened to playing the field?”

Nigel chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Darko. What are you even on about?”

***

He probably should have known better than to get so fucking happy and excited. Every time he got his hopes up like this, he was setting himself up for some new fucking disaster-bomb. Whenever his best laid romantic plans blew up in his face, Nigel imagined it to be so entirely his own fault that he must have been the one sliding stick after stick of dynamite into the device and lighting the fucking fuse.

But he couldn’t help feeling so light and cheerful, full of stupid fucking hope as he made his way to Adam’s place. When he parked his motorcycle, he grinned to discover that two blocks from Adam’s apartment was a gorgeous florist’s shop. He naturally went rushing in blathering like a fool in love (because he fucking was one) (again) (but this time would be different!) and quickly became enamored of a bouquet of fragrant, perfect white roses.

The stems were even dethorned, so that Adam’s lovely fingers wouldn’t be hurt in handling them, they were just what Nigel wanted.

But he had just walked a few steps to the street corner and turned it when he walked right into a huge fist.

Now, this was not at all an unusual occurrence in his day-to-day existence. In the initial daze of shock, when pain shot through him like a viper’s bite spewing venom, Nigel’s thought was simply, thank fucking god they aren’t wearing brass knuckles this time.

Instinctively, before he hit the ground, as his world seemed to go into slow motion, he reasoned that whoever the fuck had it out for him tonight would have to make this a quick fucking job. It was far too nice a neighborhood for shit like this to go unnoticed by the kinds of weary New Yorkers who lived in the more run-down neighborhoods and just wanted to get home. Ignoring the trouble and leaving it to the cops was the general mindset. Not unreasonable, even if the fucking cops never did their goddamn job.

Here? In Adam’s uppercrust neighborhood, the chances of anyone passing this particular alley and not screaming at the brutal violence was…zero fucking percent. Nigel needed to wrap this up fast and quietly.

Thus, a few seconds of quick thinking while he flew through the air, falling backwards, determined what he’d do the second he hit the hard asphalt. Whatever stupid fuck just almost broke his fucking nose thankfully was nothing more than hired muscle. That was so fucking obvious the fucker should be embarrassed.

The attacker actually hovered above him as if curious, like he was waiting for the results on idiot’s version of a fucking science experiment.

Nigel knew he could beat him as soon as he struck ground with a heavy thud and another loud, bone-deep, sear of pain and wasn’t instantly hit with a bat or the side of a gun. The next thought, as his leg shot out fiercely with balletic grace, and smashed his boot into his assailant’s leg with an immediate snap of bone, was that this fucking idiot was also alone.

Didn’t have a fucking deadly weapon in the other hand when he punched Nigel? Came here with no backup, and probably no fucking orders to do so? Even dumber. This must be Nigel’s lucky fucking night.

As the attacker groaned and cradled the injured leg, struggling not to fall, Nigel swiveled his body with practiced athletic skill learned from around thirty-five years of rough, life-or-death bare-knuckle throwdowns. Coming around to face the idiot in a split-second spin, he mercilessly slammed his own fist into the bastard’s jaw. He had the satisfaction, while jumping to his feet with agility that seemingly belied his fifty years, to register the horrible fucking crack of the dumbass’s jaw bone.

Screeching in agony, the muscular, but shorter and thinner thug lost the ability to stand on the hurt leg. It slid out from under him as he screamed. Nigel wondered if he had sprained, broken or what-the-fuck-ever his leg?

He rolled his eyes at the infernal fucking racket the ambitious cunty little runt was making over a minor beatdown which he had earned by his own unprovoked assault.

“Shut the fuck up, son,” he snarled, shoving his boot over the young man’s throat, meeting the terrified dark eyes with sociopathic disdain. “This isn’t the place. Nor the fucking time.”

His attacker slowly put the pieces of Nigel’s intentions together and tried to cry out in alarm, or to say “please, God, no!” or ask for his fucking mommy or whatever. With a husky laugh, Nigel pressed his heavy, high-quality black motorcycle boot down on the imbecile’s throat until he reached the level of pressure which he knew (again from experience) would render him speechless for a few hours at least.

“All I can rationally assume,” Nigel said, wiping blood and sweat from his face with the back of one hand, “Is you’re some new fucking hire of Romiro’s, trying to make a good impression on the new boss, climb that ladder of success.”

The dense young thug’s eyes widened as if to affirm the theory.

“Right. Thought so. Well listen here, son.” Nigel realized that he still had the fucking roses in one fist, which had remained in a vice grip during the short scuffle.

The bouquet was only mildly disheveled, since he hadn’t allowed it to fall, even in the surprise of the first punch to his face. He was suddenly proud of himself and grinned. A little tidy-up was all these lovelies would need to be worthy of his sweet boy.

Tasting blood in his mouth, he realized he’d better tidy himself up as well before going anywhere near his beloved baby.

Gently, lovingly, he laid the bouquet down on a wooden crate of supplies from the bar which was the building to the right of the alley. And he continued his monologue to the new “Friend” seamlessly, despite the passage of at least a minute’s worth reflection, examination of the roses, and the lighting of a fresh cigarette.

Couldn’t very well walk off a fucking punch to the face without a smoke! That was one of the best parts of a fight, this part was essentially the post-coital ciggie.

“You could’ve been fucking killed. If I didn’t have a fucking place to go, I’d have done you myself for the fucking audacity and rudeness of trying to jump me, alone, in public. Real stroke of luck none of these fucking Karen Yuppies and their stick-up-asses Rich Husbands came running to make a fuss and get the authorities involved. You could have seriously damaged what is an important fucking night for me. Out of all the fucking dumbass things you did today, that’s the dumbassest. Cause if you did anything to delay or prevent me from seeing my baby, I’d cut your fucking head off. Remember that the next time you decide to get too big for your fucking britches. Maybe try waiting your turn and earning seniority through actual hard work and having some fucking self-worth instead of being a snot-nosed, entitled little cretin. It’ll be years before Romiro even knows your name, if he does before you fuck up and die by your cohorts’ hands or an enemy’s. Maybe even my hand.”

Nigel waved his cigarette with theatrical smugness. “Remember, by the time you realize your whole life just came down to blood and tears, you’ll be swallowing your own fucking teeth.”

With a last condescending smirk at the tears rolling down the attacker’s bruised face, Nigel finished the cigarette, stubbed it and picked it up, as this was not a littering neighborhood and he was a class act, if he did say so himself. He tossed it in a nearby dumpster and strolled off, his usual confident swagger only minimally slowed by the interrupting attack.

He walked until he was right around the corner from Adam’s building and stopped by a cafe with outdoor tables to assess the damage to his face.

After laying the roses down and using his phone camera (now with a cracked fucking screen, he was gonna punch that little bastard’s entire collection of teeth out just for that if he ever saw him again) to examine his reflection, a mild sound of disappointment was the next thing in his night to get rudely fucking interrupted.

“Sir?” Said a snooty waiter, complete with a slender mustache and a name tag that said “Wentworth.” “Are you planning to order something? Otherwise, we have to ask you to move on…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, fucking stickler for etiquette at a time like this.” Nigel rolled his eyes for the second time in less than ten minutes as he muttered the complaint. Bracing his hands on the table, knowing his face was looking even more threatening than usual, he glared, but said politely, “Listen, Wenty, why don’t you just bring me a fucking dark ale, that fucking locally brewed shit. And we’ll call it fucking even, so I can try to put myself together and go to my first official date with the love of my fucking life, huh?”

“Alright, then, sir.” Wenty looked a little nervous and far too much so to complain at Nigel’s profanity. “I’ll, uh, be right back with that.”

“You do that,” Nigel chuckled, having a seat and sighing again, not dejectedly but as a man displeased to have extra work on his night off.

He shot off a text to Darko to report the attack. If Romiro cared enough about whoever that sniveling underling was that punched him, like if the little fucker was someone’s son or nephew or something, they might send someone to take revenge, given that Nigel had swiftly given him a pretty good beating.

Comforting himself with the knowledge that his assailant wouldn’t be walking without a crutch or speaking without a distinct croak for the foreseeable future, he threw his phone down on the table, casting a cursory look around the environment. So, this was where Adam lived.

It was quiet, peaceful (until someone followed Nigel there, at least) and nice. Clean, classy. The surrounding business were all neat and tidy, and quite a few were restaurant/bars almost identical to this one with its fifteen dollar fucking beers and its doubtless seventy-dollar plates of fucking spaghetti that you had an option to add grilled chicken or shrimp to for an additional fifteen bucks.

But overall, Nigel got what would have made Adam’s family put roots down here. He knew nothing about Adam’s mother, but he did know Adam had been close with his dad. Rather than wondering what that might have been like, he focused on the more important analysis of Adam’s current life and what he might be able to do to make it better in any way. The craving to spoil his angel made his mouth water. Who could resist wanting to give such a complete darling the whole world on a silver fucking platter?

Adam wasn’t much for going out socially, that had been clear from their chat on campus the night before last. So he didn’t likely spend much time in places like this or at the boho chic “second-hand” store that was part of a new trend towards making consignment “cool and vintage” even for the wealthy. Or that bookstore that actually looked appealing, with an ad for a chai tea latte and a poster which, from across the street, seemed to reference an upcoming children’s storytime. That was the kind of place one could hole up in at times like this, when a refresher was decidedly needed. But he didn’t have time to snuggle into some little reading nook with a lazy cat who lived there in his lap, perusing random poetry books. Tonight, he had better things to do.

To say the fucking least.

Wenty came back with the fucking dark ale in a tall glass, for which Nigel would have forgived him almost any offense. He blathered some shit about “anything else,” to which Nigel nodded and quipped, “That’ll be it for now. Good fucking service, Wenty. Might even leave you a good tip.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir,” the tall, balding man said, as if he thought the wrong word would cause Nigel to lunge at him like a silver panther with teeth bared.

Not too far off from the fucking truth.

After a long sip of the predictably tasty ale, Nigel set the icy glass down and took in a few helpful breaths of fresh autumn air. The sight of the area so serene, since he’d cleaned up the fucking trash and dragged it behind a dumpster, that is, calmed his frazzled nerves a bit. Alright, back to damage assessment.

He winced, holding his phone camera up and turning it to different angles. It could have been worse was the only comfort here, but it was no small consolation. He’d have been inconsolable if he fucking stood his baby up. As it was, he had come here early to get his bearings and as an extra caution against lateness. And because he couldn’t fucking wait any longer. So, he still wasn’t even late.

He sent off a text to Adam: “Be there shortly, darling. Can’t wait to see your beautiful smile.”

A text came through in reply by the time Nigel swallowed another sip of lager.

Adam: “Okay, Nigel, see you soon. Can’t wait too. 🙂”

Nigel’s heart leapt to see how eager his sweetheart was to reply. They were both lost to all other concerns in the anticipation of the date. Okay, that was a fucking exaggeration. He peered at his puffy, purple-ringed right eye and the blood clinging to the skin between his nose and mouth. And there was no need to look in order to realize his elbows were scraped pretty fucking good from when he fell at the first punch.

Oh, fucking well, nothing else to be done for it. His temper tried to flare up again, making him throw a tantrum and become destructive due to the wrinkle in his special plans, and having to show his face to Adam looking like he’d fallen out of a fucking truck.

The various coping techniques from all of the prison, halfway house and rehab facilities over a couple decades were fucking useless. He never bothered with looking for items of certain colors around him, or doing his alphabet fucking backwards. Or trying to fucking talk himself down from Red level to the peaceful and preferable Green.

Nigel was so rarely any lower than the upper strip of Yellow level that it was laughable. Also, what the fuck was up with all the fucking colors these therapists threw around? All this shit seemed like something to say, just so they could claim they treated yet another formerly destructive citizen.

No “formerly” to it in Nigel’s case. He never left one of those fucking dumps without raging directly to the one responsible for landing him in captivity and making them pay.

Lifting the tall glass to finish his drink, Nigel glanced at his roughed-up knuckles with another low sigh of frustration. The anger bubbled up in his throat again. Picturing all the times he’d fucking butchered his adversaries didn’t console him enough; he was in the middle of the red.

He didn’t want Adam introduced to what he did for a living on their first real date, he’d been saving that for later. Even then, the plan had been to be vague about the job description and avoid letting Adam see any details or signs of danger. He’d fucked that up now, just by walking down the street. And really? He had no right to even be surprised.

Knowing he wasn’t going to concoct some fucking sob story about being mugged (frankly insulting; a mere street thief would never get close enough to him to do a damn thing), he wasn’t starting this relationship off with direct, actual lies, he had to face facts far too soon for comfort.

Anger at the stupid fucking cunt who hit him combined with anger at himself for being a garbage fucking person that didn’t deserve his perfect boy. He could’ve shattered the lager glass if he hadn’t set it down. Another few deep breaths. Nigel visualized doing what he felt like doing, wrecking the whole restaurant, breaking tables and glasses, hurting random people, they were in the way and he was in a fucking state at present. FUCK.

Picturing it would have to do. On a handful of occasions, he’d pulled that shit in Bucharest and only evaded serious consequences because of certain high-level connections he used to have in ally gangs and even the cops. Too fucking bad the cop who caught him the night he lost Gabi for good hadn’t been one of his “friends” on the force. Instead, some earnest newbie showed up and Nigel came close enough to death that he almost heard choirs of fucking angels singing to him. Most likely offering their fucking condolences right before he’d be sent to Hell for all eternity. But he hadn’t gone down in a puddle of blood on that bridge, hadn’t let Gabi bring him down all the way. Sure, she’d reduced him about as low as a tough fucker like him could get, but he was still here.

Here, in America. With the love of his fucking life right down the street waiting on him. Fuck if he was gonna throw that away, even if his temper was screaming bloody murder in his ears.

Considering that Wenty hadn’t given him a dirty look for his fresh injuries and had been mildly offended at best by his profanity, he gave the waiter a fair tip. Then, he gathered his roses and his tattered pride up carefully and walked to Adam’s apartment building.

***

Nigel texted Adam of his arrival and tucked his phone away after cursing at it once more for good measure. Fucking cracked screen kept hurting the pads of his fingertips as he texted. He composed himself as best he could and paced the tiny area in front of the apartment building’s door, trying out different poses with which to present the bouquet.

He was in the middle of one when Adam opened the door, greeting him with lowered eyes and a small, wobbly grin. The lovely boy’s cheeks were tinted a bashful pink as he said “Hello, Nigel” to Nigel’s stomach, still working up the nerve to meet his heated and adoring gaze.

As such, Nigel didn’t think his baby had noticed his fucked up face yet, so he thought it best to warn him before he got a fright.

“Hello, darling. I, um, ran into some fucking idiot on my way here,” he sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t look better for our first official date.”

“Oh, Nigel,” Adam startled slightly, his eyes rapidly canvasing the older man’s bruised face, the small smudges of blood, the redness of his knuckles and elbows, and then the bouquet. “You brought roses.”

He’d gotten his wires crossed in the fusion of first date nerves, noticing the wounds and then seeing the almost blindingly white, silky-soft roses clutched in Nigel’s sweaty grip.

Adam blushed harder because his words had come out a bit jumbled, but Nigel wanted him to know he was feeling like even more of a mess himself.

God forbid Nigel’s angel ever felt a moment of sadness, self-conscious, negative thinking or pain (unless consensually and enthusiastically proved by Nigel) (and only Nigel) (for-fucking-ever). The quick moves he’d used to retaliate against his attacker that evening would seem like a hug compared to the torture and horrible death he’d bestow on the offending party. Nigel’s new purpose in life was well-defined, shining bright as roses under a full moon’s silver glow: he was here on this earth, he was alive, he had survived Bucharest against all odds because Adam had been waiting for him. Adam needed him.

So Nigel’s whole life had reshaped itself into a plan concocted entirely of delirious joy: his life was all about, only about loving Adam Raki. Making Adam happy.

And he wanted to begin going all-in on that right away. Adam had been “trained” by years of bullying, insults, prejudice, plain unkindness and condescension to assume his reactions to most things were “wrong.” Nigel wanted to erase such hurtful sensations from Adam’s big, beautiful heart now that it was finally his very own to keep, to take care of.

His baby! His shining star, brighter than any above them despite the clear weather and the sparkling heavens. If Nigel could take the bad memories and their conditioning away, he’d do it in a second. It disturbed and infuriated him that Adam had this inferiority complex and saw himself so lowly. But of course, Nigel consoled his heightened emotions of rage and vengeful desires by recalling his new job: fill this boy with every kind of bliss he could possibly think up.

“Yes, baby,” Nigel chuckled. “Please don’t feel like you’re the only one who’s anxious. There’s always a moment of weirdness when you see the person you, uhhh, like, after only seeing them briefly before. But fuck me, I’m just not used to that ‘awkward moment’ feeling this good, or my heart feeling like it’s gonna burst out of my fucking chest.”

Adam had been attentively smiling at the first part of the speech, staring directly at Nigel’s left shoulder, still looking shy. As if the older man’s comforting words were a new language he would need time to get used to.

Now, the boy’s angelic features changed to a serious expression of concern. “Are you experiencing chest pains, Nigel? That can be a symptom of some really severe illnesses. You should go and see your primary care physician tomorrow, as soon as you can get a walk-in appointment.”

His solemnity floored Nigel. The purity of his entire, sincere, redemptive wish for Nigel to be whole, healthy and happy. Nigel had a flash of wondering if someday his baby would love him back in equal measure to his own love, but he had to push the overwhelming thought away and reply to his sweet, worried boy.

“No, dollface, I only meant that you make my heart beat very hard and fast, and feel very full of love. Yes, I fucking know, not literally full of love…”

“It’s okay,” Adam reassured him, “I get what you mean. And it’s.” He hesitated, then added quickly, “It means a lot that you said it.”

Nigel raked his eyes over Adam hungrily, never more attracted (like a moth to a flame) than when his sweetheart was so innocent and devoted.

“Look at the pair of us, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.” Nigel gave him a grin, flashing his sharp, slightly crooked teeth. “But then, I think it’s a good thing we probably know what to do with each other, huh, doll?”

Adam nodded rapidly. He seemed relieved that Nigel had addressed the metaphorical elephant in the doorway of the apartment building with them. Only Adam would probably hate that metaphor, which kept the smile on Nigel’s face.

“I admit,” the younger man fretted, “enough time has passed since our texting session that I’ve grown a bit anxious and self-conscious about seeing you again. Now, I’m still nervous about being pleasant on this date and if I’ll be too weird or awkward. And also, I’m worried about you. You have cuts, bruises, and scrapes, at least five that I can see. Thankfully, they aren’t big or deep-looking, but they seem very recent. What do you mean you ran into someone idiotic? And I’m grateful for the flowers; no one’s ever given me flowers. But what happened? Should we go inside now? This doesn’t seem like an appropriate location to keep talking.”

Nigel knew how to do important things while holding this fucking bouquet, so he kept that grip while using his free hand to frame one side of that beautiful face. He kissed Adam, not tentatively, but warm and hard, the pressure and suddenness of the passion between them working as a stabilizing, yet exhilarating reminder: this was it, that thrill, this was the formula of them. They were the chemical reaction that flared every time their elements combined.

“I would love to come inside, darling,” Nigel said, gently, against Adam’s lips where they were slightly parted, releasing a soft, short sigh.

Nigel’s cock reacted with a twinge of excitement at the sound his baby made when aroused. So fucking neglected. So lonely. And never loved properly, never fucked like he deserved. It made him wonderfully dizzy, thinking of all the ways he could be good for Adam.

The “pros” in this moment completely eclipsed his paranoid list of “cons” (like that he was one) (with multiple prior convictions). He could be better for Adam than Beth or whatever other stupid fucking fools had dated this perfect creature and failed to give him the whole universe and every star it held. Right in the palms of those pretty hands, warm and now cupping his face. Adam smiled as they drew back. “I’d like that, too.”

Starting up the stairs, which spiraled to the third floor where his apartment was, Adam looked back at Nigel. “Maybe when we arrive at my place, you can tell me what happened to you, it looks like someone hit you.”

He said it matter-of-factly, but the solemn-worried darkness was back in his gaze, turning sapphire to midnight in a few fragile, fluttering blinks of his lashes.

“Sure, kitten,” Nigel shrugged. “It is a short story, although there’s not one thing about it that’s fucking sweet until the end, when I came here and saw you.”

Adam walked up a few more steps. Nigel was close enough behind that when the boy paused again, a sudden thought firing off in his big brain, Nigel almost bumped into him.

The beautiful boy turned around again, looking so adorable, chocolate-brown curls neatly combed, yet still escaping across his brow in a soft fringe. So adorable it fucking hurt. This love was that bruise Nigel could never wait to stick his finger into, hard. He wanted to die deluged in the painful ecstasy of loving this deeply. Swallowing hard, he nodded inquisitively when Adam said,

“Nigel?”

“Hmm, angel?”

Adam said carefully, “I would like to clean and bandage your wounds as needed, if you don’t mind.”

Nigel didn’t mind. “Consider me your very willing patient.”

Adam grinned. “I like that you often are quite clear with your word choices when joking or being sarcastic. I don’t struggle to understand verbal nuances as much with you, because you seem to be, um. Speaking with the intention of me comprehending without having to work hard.”

Nigel looked up at him again as Adam turned the corner that led up to the last flight of these fucking stairs. The older man was far from winded, but he couldn’t imagine bolting up these fuckers every night when he got home (late, more like morning) from the club someday. Maybe he and Adam would find a new place together. Maybe Adam would like Nigel’s place enough that they could live together there. It was a nice place, after all, and…

“Yeah,” he affirmed, breaking through his own cloud of dreams, “I want you to know how much I enjoy our talks, Adam. I don’t want you confused or frustrated. I also get that there’ll be times when I fuck up and bewilder you with some weird turn of phrase. But it’ll never be for lack of trying.”

“Thank you, Nigel,” Adam smiled, making the nickname of “Angel” earth-shakingly appropriate.

Chapter Text

“Like a light weight, like a cheap date
Like a teenage kinda first taste
I'm scared of the come down
I don't think I'll know how
To live without this now” -Demi Lovato

***

Weak in the knees, Nigel trailed his sweetheart up to the third floor, then down a quiet, neat and plain hallway. He glanced into another apartment whose door was left open and noticed that the place was classy, big and attractive for all its bland plainness of design. The stove and fridge looked quite new as well. His darling deserved nothing but the best. Nigel felt a rush of relief to see that Adam’s current residence, if a bit overly “safe” in its lowkey-ness, was just that: benign, free from danger.

It was a place one came to in order to live an unassuming, plain sort of life, that was all. Something lonely hung in the air like dust motes, despite the pleasant lemon smell of a recent cleaning, despite how immaculate every beige and white surface was. Each identical door probably had an identical place inside it, but only one was his Adam’s.

“Do you like it here?” Adam asked curiously.

Nigel eyed the way Adam’s long legs walked, how his jeans hugged his gorgeous ass, as the sound of his favorite voice fell over him like the hypnotic spell it was. Happily, he answered, “Sure, it’s alright. I like knowing there’s no fucking criminal element around here.”

He lowered his voice, realizing that the kind of people who rented these apartments probably weren’t accustomed to anyone loudly saying “fuck” right outside their door.

“I couldn’t live with myself if you were someplace where I wouldn’t know, generally, on a foundational level, that you were safe.”

“What if I had a lower amount of funds in my trust fund and my income from my technical consulting work?” Adam asked.

He paused in front of his own door and fumbled with the keys, still worked up by Nigel’s nearness, both of them knowing the whole night was spread ahead of them with so much to enjoy together. The taste of that kiss still lingered in warm, delicious echoes on their lips.

“And what if that meant I lived in a more unsavory area, with a higher crime rate?” Adam continued to explain.

Nigel smiled in arousal at the way Adam was having a hard time finding the apartment key he used every day. There were five keys on the NASA keychain, but right then, it was like Adam had never seen them before in his life.

“If that ever happened…” Nigel framed Adam closely from behind, his breath tickling the boy’s pretty, cute ear as he murmured seductively. “I’d protect you. Get you somewhere classy and safe immediately. I couldn’t stand worrying about you. You better know that up front…”

The keys jangled a bit violently as Adam trembled at Nigel’s big body pressed into his own suggestively, the older man’s deep, sexy voice in his ear.

“Because I get fucking crazy like that. I’d do anything to keep you safe and happy, angel. If I ever thought you might be unhappy or uncomfortable without me, I’d need to go to you immediately, lest I start screaming and breaking everything in fucking sight.”

“Nigel…” Adam turned his face away, overwhelmed, and reading his body language, Nigel put his big hand flat against his baby’s tummy, over that fucking tease of a neat blue sweater. He held Adam tightly, leaving no question about who the boy belonged to.

Overwhelmed, but turned on. Very turned on, if Nigel was right.

“Look at me, gorgeous.” He issued it as an order, and when Adam instantly obeyed, Nigel got a rush like nothing else he’d ever felt. “Good boy.”

Adam’s mouth opened to say something, then shut again. His eyes were beautifully dazed by desire. Nigel leaned down, lips brushing Adam’s. Now that his boy had turned to face him, Nigel held his waist firmly while Adam put his arms around Nigel’s neck.

In the process, the keychain fell to the floor in a ringing thump. Nigel laughed into another kiss, then licked across the perfection of Adam’s upper lip before biting down on the bottom one. Firmly, more firmly than he had in their previous kisses.

“You’re shaking, baby,” Nigel said, hearing a low growl in his own voice as his cock woke up further.

Another hot thrum of anticipatory pleasure filled his senses, radiating out from his now half-hard, needy dick. If just a little fucking teasing, flirting and relatively gentle suggestions of kinkier stuff made Adam tremble like this, how sensitive would he be when Nigel held him down in bed and filled him to the brim?

“I-I, uhhhh….” Adam swallowed hard, at a momentary loss for words.

Nigel gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and grabbed the keys, flipping through till he saw the matching one for this particular lock. This was not a skill gained from the most respectable of past jobs, but hey. It was fucking convenient when one wanted to open the door this urgently.

“Nigel….” Adam tried again to reply, his voice a feathery, near-whimper of a thing.

After following Adam inside, where the apartment was dim with shadows, but one lamp had been left on near the entrance. The apartment had an open plan, and Nigel could see the general shape of the whole place in a couple of glances, the couch and tv space, the kitchen and doors for bedroom and bathroom. But he had no further interest in the fucking setting for now.

Adam had been walking ahead, probably about to go turn more lights on, but Nigel tugged on his boy’s sweater. Adam stopped short, making a small noise of surprise, then turned to face him with a crimson shade blooming over his cheeks. Nigel watched the blush intently, with hunter’s eyes, as it also spread to the tips of those precious, bitable ears and even down Adam’s neck, past the collar of his button-up above the nerdy sweater.

“You’re blushing all fucking over, babydoll.” Nigel put the keys on a hook by the door where he figured they probably went.

Spotting a small table nearby, he placed the roses there.

Adam watched him do this as if fascinated by Nigel’s every little move. He let out a cute squeal as Nigel urged him back until he was pressed against the wall by the door, the older man’s hands tightly holding his wrists beside his head.

“That happens, sometimes, the blush spreads…lower….” Adam mumbled almost incoherently.

Nigel let him take in the feeling of getting mildly manhandled. Had to make sure his darling was turned on, not frightened by the treatment.

“Well, I think it’s the prettiest fucking way I’ve seen you look yet, gorgeous. Just how low does that blush go? It’s sneaking under your collar. Bet it’s covering that gorgeous chest of yours, isn’t it?”

Adam was struck mute for a moment, wrists slack in Nigel’s claiming grip.

Still holding Adam where he wanted him with effortless dominance, Nigel leaned in to bite at the boy’s neck just above the collar. “Your skin is all hot, you’re burning up,” he said, the growl in his tone even more pronounced.

“Yes,” Adam moaned, “Yes, I feel almost feverish, but I’m not sick, just excited, just overwhelmed. This is all very new to me.”

“Dating a guy?” Nigel murmured, sin lacing his tone unmistakably. The time for his own ability to remain tentative or subtle had officially passed. “Planning to get fucked by a guy?”

Another sweet moan, helpless at Nigel’s predatory stare and the deep rumble of his words.

“Nigel…!” A panicked brightness came into Adam’s wet eyes, but that kind of powerful sense of overwhelm could be a good thing or a bad one.

And Nigel had to know.

“Well, aren’t you, babydoll? Hmm? My cute little kitten.” He playfully bit at Adam’s jaw. Flexed his fingers to emphasize his continued stance, looking down at Adam from a place of authority which had so far gone uncontested.

“Yes,” Adam admitted. He smiled, just a little one, then let out a breathy sigh before biting his lip. “Definitely. You make it very easy to be honest. To feel…open.”

“Tender, vulnerable…” Nigel’s deep voice trailed off as he ran a finger down that perfect jawline, then traced the swan-like neck. Right before he sucked a small bite mark into a bruise, he added, “offering yourself for the taking.”

“Oh, God,” Adam whimpered, his eyes filling with tears. “Nigel, you make me feel…exactly like that.”

“That’s good, baby. You’re such a wonderfully well-behaved and beautiful boy. But tell me, are you crying, angel?” He carefully swiped a tear away with his thumb. “You okay? Or am I being too much? Does this hurt you?”

He glanced upwards, indicating his own grip on Adam’s wrists.

“Hurts a little,” Adam acknowledged, his voice small and soft.

His eyes kept flitting right to Nigel’s hard gaze, dilated pupils darkening Nigel’s eyes from light to darker brown. But he could only hold that eye contact for a few seconds before he looked away as if he had to.

“Do you want me to be gentler with you, beautiful?” Nigel purred the words against Adam’s flushed cheek, where he pressed softer kisses. “I can. I’m serious when I say I’d do anything to make you happy. I know that I’m an intense man, and I have a long history of being more than a lot of people could handle. I won’t be crushed if you want me to change the way I handle you…”

“I like it,” Adam blurted.

Nigel tightened his grip until he knew there would be fingerprints on Adam’s pale, slender, delicate wrists.

God, Nigel wanted to fucking bite him all over. All fucking night.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Very much.” Adam’s voice sounded punched out and woozy, like with just a little application of control, Nigel could set him well on his way to sub -space.

“Beautiful, perfect, oh my fucking God, Adam, you’ve no idea.”

“You sound almost angry, but what you’re saying is so affectionate and kind.”

“I get…very, very turned on, baby. Part of it is a high fucking sex drive for a man my age, the other half is I get fucking crazy-emotional. Over the fucking top intense. And I would have had to put aside a lot of temptations to make love to you gently. Of course, had you needed that, I would happily do it. But…” He nosed along Adam’s neck, licking at the bruise he’d left as Adam gasped. “If you enjoy me dominating you…”

“Submitting to you turns me on,” Adam nodded quickly. Almost like he was about to beg for what Nigel wanted desperately to do to him. “I know I like it. I think I might even love it, Nigel. Um…”

In a whisper he added, “Daddy.” Nigel’s eyes burned even hotter with lust.

“Does Daddy’s very special, favorite boy want me to be rough later? Want me to fuck you good and hard with all the love in my heart? If you like, you can fucking let go of everything else but belonging to be and feeling pleasure, for as long as I can give it to you. I’ll fuck you till both our bodies give out, nothing could hold me back if it’s want you want. I’m all yours, angel. Are you mine?”

“I’m yours. I want you to take over,” Adam admitted earnestly. “I want to be yours and for you to decide what you should do to me. I think I want to let go, like you said.”

The dirty talk had also made Adam quiver profusely, which must be dealt with. Was Nigel really supposed to see such a gorgeous sight as a trembling, submitting, angelic Adam Raki and keep the dwindling entity of his self control intact?

Adam explained, “I’m tired of doing all the work and making hard decisions. Most of all, I’m tired of having to make decisions in the first place. It hurts my mind and I need some kind of release. I need to be all yours like that, Nigel, under your control. I’d do whatever you told me, I promise.”

That answer fucking threw a lit match on Nigel’s smoldering desire. He groaned and released Adam’s wrists to pick the boy right up off the ground, into his strong arms, then carried him swiftly to the kitchen. Finding the island counter blessedly clear, he sat Adam on it, then kissed him with rough and consuming ardor. Almost with all his might.

“Mmmphhh,” Adam said against Nigel’s lips.

“Yes, darling?” Nigel drew back slightly, both of them panting as they pressed their foreheads together.

Nigel ran a hand over Adam’s beautiful curls possessively, finding them as sweaty as his own hair.

“Hmmm?” Adam asked, almost drowsily, clinging to Nigel’s collar, legs still wrapped around his waist.

“Oh,” Nigel replied thickly, “I thought you said something, so I wanted to stop and make sure you could….” He kissed those divine lips again, “Uhhm, say it…if you needed….”

Another kiss left him tugging at Adam’s curls, mostly to keep himself in check before he went too far, too fast. (Yes, it would be possible for him to take “too far, too fast” quite a bit more extremely; by the standard of how much he wanted Adam, his behavior so far had been downright restrained and gentlemanly).

“To say it…”

“I said something?” Adam’s cute nose crinkled and he nuzzled into Nigel’s neck, kissing him sweetly right over his tattoo in three precise little presses of warm lips. Nigel felt like Adam was trying to assert his own claim over that of whoever or whatever was represented by the tattoo, and he fucking got that. He understood the need.
It made him groan, his hands moving smoothly and firmly down Adam’s sides, then clenching his sweater in his tight fists, gasping his lover’s name.

“Y-you said, hmmm,” Nigel managed to reply, “‘Mmmmph’?”

“Ah, that,” Adam nodded with a wicked grin that made butterflies fucking zoom around in Nigel’s stomach. “That was meant to be, ‘More’.”

“I can fill that order, babydoll,” Nigel promised with a devilish enough look that Adam’s most provocative attempt to reciprocate would never be anything but purely angelic by comparison.

It was one of the mysteries of the universe that all their broken pieces fit together so perfectly. On paper, anyone would think they were opposite enough to hate one another immediately, but instead there was only the euphoria of each finding their long-missing other half.

Their love was molten gold, fusing them as one, pouring between the jagged edges of their individual pain and struggles, combining them to create perfection. Nigel wanted to escape with Adam into a fantasy world that had all they needed and no one else to come between them, ever. A new dimension only designed for the two of them. Maybe he was already going there, each time their lips crashed together with increasing boldness.

Nigel’s lips hungered for Adam in ways that could never be vanquished. Still, this experience was like drinking down the sweetest goblet of rich, delectable and fulfilling wine after having had the fucking love d.t.’s. He’d just hoisted Adam onto the kitchen counter in the near dark and commenced kissing his brains out, but the romance of this felt like so much more than that implied.

“Oh, Nigel,” Adam gasped, his lips puffy and wet the next time they came up for air. “You’re an extremely good kisser.”

He was panting like he’d run a marathon, and it was the cutest thing, because at the same time he kept his usual neat, intellectual and overly polite manners.

“I just want to make you feel like you can’t even fucking believe how good you feel,” Nigel answered in a rough whisper that surprised even him with its vulnerability. “Forgive me, darling, not very poetic, but it’s the fucking truth.”

Adam smiled. “I liked what you said. It may have been repetitive, but I like patterns of things, they comfort me. And your words weren’t at all confusing. Right away, I knew what you wanted me to, and that’s…rare because with you, it keeps happening. Everything feels…just right.”

Nigel nodded silently, lost in worship of dark sapphire eyes daring to meet his own before traveling up to his hair.

“My hair is a fucking mess, I’m sure,” Nigel laughed self-consciously.

Yes, Nigel. Nigel, caring that he was a fucking mess in a million different ways and trusting someone enough to fucking say so. A truly surreal fucking moment.

Adam bit his reddened, already over-kissed lips and thought for a few beats before his hands followed the path of his gaze. Slipping his fingers into Nigel’s silver-blonde strands, he gently ruffled them with a laugh that cut right to Nigel’s soul. Watching his own movements, he let Nigel’s hair run through his fingers, as if enjoying the texture or the moonlight spilling in from the window behind them, making the silvery strands glimmer.

“I think you have beautiful hair,” Adam said thoughtfully.

“You say that as if you’ve been giving the matter serious contemplation,” said Nigel, smiling and leaning into his baby’s warm and soothing touch like a preening, touch-starved cat who had just been adopted.

“I have, actually.” Adam explained further by sliding his long fingers down Nigel’s high cheekbones, then tracing his jaw. “Your facial features are genuinely striking. It’s bizarre that your face is so symmetrical and each feature looks ideal, yet putting it all together, you’re unusual-looking.”

“Good-unusual, bad-unusual? You’re still here, so…I think I’ll go with thank you, dollface,” Nigel laughed, not even caring if it was entirely a compliment.

As if he was a teacher and Nigel just sat in his classroom, Adam announced, “Yes, you should. I meant it as a good thing. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And I spent all the time since the night we met thinking about you, in the course of which I’ve reexamined your features from head to toe, a process which was more recently assisted by having photos of you in my phone. So, with all the time and thought I’ve put into this analysis, and drawing on my lifetime’s experience of visually observing men, especially since discovering my bisexuality…I am absolutely certain, Nigel.”

“As bowled over and frankly overcome with emotion that makes me, baby,” Nigel grinned, glowing at the praise and at knowing how attractive Adam found him, in no uncertain terms. “I disagree. You’re the most beautiful man.”

The bluntness between them really was solid gold. Neither of them wanted or needed a filter when they talked. The only exception was Nigel still not ready to tell details of his…adventurous career. But he had to keep Adam clear of all that dangerous shit, and if it cost him a few white lies, so fucking be it. He’d protect his baby no matter what.

“Nigel,” Adam laughed brightly, “If anyone else heard us, they’d think we were being nauseatingly affectionate with each other.”

“And that,” said Nigel, fondly tapping his adorable nose, “Is why privacy is so fucking splendid, angel. We can be as gross as we want, and frankly, I’d never want another fucking soul to see or hear how we’re gonna be together.  Not tonight, this first time.”

Eventually, Nigel might love to experiment with some form of exhibitionism, to show off how much Adam belonged to him, but this was not the time to bring that up.  Someday.

Adam nodded. “It would feel…wrong. I agree. But since I don’t have a roommate or other impediment, and don’t even have a pet, although a few co-workers had assumed me to be ‘one of those nerds who have twenty cats at home and stay single for life’...anyway. We have all the time until I go to work tomorrow, just for ourselves. Oh, not to be presumptuous of you staying the night, that is.”

“Presumptuous?” Nigel’s eyes widened incredulously. “Adam, I’ve wanted to sleep over tonight since we set the date up. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with it, physically, or if it might be too soon. I know you have your life down pat, organized into your sweet little routines…I may be disruptive in general, but I’m not here to disrupt you.”

“I know that, Nigel, but thank you for stating your concern for my preferences and comfort.” Adam gave him a small smile, still unable to help these lapses into bashfulness.

“Speaking of which, it’s past your fucking dinnertime, angel. Tell me you had your mac n cheese, broccoli and such already, so I know you aren’t starving right now?”

“Food,” Adam repeated as if he hadn’t thought about it in a while. “Oh, you’re right! I do need to eat dinner. But luckily, it won’t take long to make. Are you hungry too? I can make another portion for you.”

“Sure, sweetheart, just let me know if I can help. Let me just pop into the bathroom and clean up first, lest I appear at your dinner table looking this much like a fucking punching bag.”

He turned around to where he assumed the bathroom was probably located, right as Adam flicked the lights on.

“Oh, thanks, baby,” he said breezily, then pointed ahead. “Is it this way?”

“I said I would help you with that. Your injuries, I mean. I still want to.” Adam retrieved a small blue, tin box from a cabinet under the sink and led the way to the couch. “Please sit down.”

Nigel had assumed the insides of these places were all equally spacious, but this apartment had smaller rooms than the other ones he’d glanced into on the way to Adam’s door.

He sat on the very comfy, soft, straw-yellow couch and looked up expectantly as Adam addressed him with his very most matter-of-fact expression.

“Sweetheart,” Nigel attempted as Adam put down the alcohol, cotton balls, bandages and such. “I offered to do it myself so that I wouldn’t keep you from your dinner any longer.”

“I want to take care of you.” Adam sat beside him, taking hold of his chin and turning it side to side, in order to observe the injuries. “You obviously won’t need stitches, but a few of the cuts definitely need cleaning and small bandages.”

“Darling? You’re not getting too hungry?”

“No. I know I can do this better than you could on yourself, and I’ll be thorough. I’m quite good at this sort of thing. If I got hurt, I’d want you to help me the same way. Someone else’s eyes can always conduct a better appraisal of wounds and can apply the bandages much more easily. And plus…”

“Yes, gorgeous?”

Adam’s long, dark lashes fluttered beguilingly as Nigel watched a nervous swallow work his pretty throat.

So lovely was the sight that Nigel only flinched a tiny bit at the first sting of alcohol touching a cut on his forehead. Adam winced apologetically as he continued, although he could not possibly have been gentler.

“This one will just need a bandaid,” Adam said, placing a thin, peach-colored one carefully onto Nigel’s forehead over the cut.

“You’re the best nurse I ever had, Adam.” Nigel omitted the fact that he’d only had a nurse twice in living memory, once when he broke his arm at ten years old, and his teacher took him to the emergency room (then paid for his medical expenses since his fucking parents never showed) and again when he came to the States and had to do some kind of fucking mandatory physical thing. That nurse was a hot young woman who tried to flirt with him, but he had still been numb from Gabi, barely noticing.

Now, he knew he’d been waiting for Adam all along, always. All the way back to the lonely kid with the broken arm.

Adam blushed. “To, uh, answer your previous question…well. Normally I’m exactly the right amount of hungry to have my dinner at the usual time of 7pm. However, with, um….you….? I noticed that I haven’t felt any urgency towards meals since we met. I almost have to make myself eat because–”

Nigel got worried about his baby becoming malnourished and shifted worriedly, more pained than he had been from the cold bite of alcohol on his cuts.

“Hold still,” Adam commanded, pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Nigel, do you need me to remain silent until I’m done tending to your injuries?”

“No, baby, I can behave better, promise,” Nigel said with amused penitence. “I was worried you might not be getting enough to eat, is all.”

“I will give you another chance to hold still.” Adam got past his momentary frustration and continued, “I’m still eating, but I am uncharacteristically inattentive to the food itself and don’t seem to be craving it, even after hours since the last meal. It’s because I've had this…funny feeling in my belly since we met.”

“Really? Me too, darling.”

Nigel concentrated on remaining perfectly still, which was a real fucking challenge. God only knew if he had that ADHD shit or what-the-fuck-ever, but he royally sucked at holding still. Always had. He’d fucking started to walk at ten months because he was sick of how slow crawling was.

He was usually moving restlessly in one way or another, regardless of mood. But for Adam, he tried.

Without the chance to fidget or indulge in a cigarette or a drink, it was hard to soak in words that impacted his emotions so strongly. The urge to fucking kiss Adam or reach for him was severe, but he stopped himself from coping with the deprivation by jiggling his knee or pushing his hair back from his forehead. These were his typical tics and habits when that old itch to move came around.

“You have the feeling in your stomach, too. That’s interesting,” Adam the intellectual replied sagely. “Instead of a desire for food, my appetite seems to be busy with something else all of a sudden, and can’t bring itself to function normally.”

“Would you say that the new feeling in your tummy is also a kind of hunger?” Nigel’s gaze stayed steady on Adam.

The boy’s face remained in perfect concentration, both on Nigel’s words and finishing the job of smoothing a bandage over a deep and twinging scrape on his elbow.

“I think it is.” Adam’s eyes filled with complicated emotions. Perhaps a delicate, aching anxiety.

“That’s the fucking one, then, angel.” Nigel waited for Adam to finish wrapping gauze around his freshly cleaned, stinging-like-a-motherfucker (but who fucking cared) knuckles.

Then he added. “It’s real. I have it, too. More than I ever did before. It’s that fucking hunger where you know you could have access to the best food ever for life and never fill the need. Knowing one person is making your fucking energy zing through your veins like liquid fucking adrenaline spiked with horny, but tender, yet fucking scared-as-hell serum. The real fucking thing, baby.”

Adam finished nursing the wounds and packed his supplies back into his first-aid kit box. After securing the lid, he turned back to Nigel. He took Nigel’s hands in his own, thumbs lovingly stroking the gauze, soothing the injuries beneath. Nigel noticed him staring with great interest at the dark lines of his knuckle tattoos that slightly showed through the gauze.

“So…you’re used to the tingly skin and the weird tummy thing? Do you also feel hot all over when we kiss?” Adam asked earnestly.

“Can you really fucking blame me? But as to being ‘used’ to those feelings? Fuck no, baby. I’ve only experienced them in comparatively bearable doses in the past, all the while imagining my heart was dialed up to eleven. Not even fucking close.”

He shook his head, amazed that once, he had thought Gabi dialed him up to eleven. Truth was, if he could have ever fucking controlled himself, including his explosive temper, they would have made better friends. As a couple? They’d butted heads from the start. Nigel knew all about pretending it would work itself out while knowing deep down he was indeed lying to himself. He couldn’t seem to resist trusting Adam and thinking they’d never see their love go down in excruciatingly gradual, tragic flames that way.

“I actually didn’t feel any of these symptoms at all with Beth,” Adam mused. “Which is strange. But I had no way of knowing you were supposed to get a strange-feeling tummy when you’re falling in love, or hot skin, or tingly sensations. I always felt pretty calm and stable with Beth, except when she made me angry or hurt my feelings. Sometimes, when we were kissing…or when we were intimate, I’d get bored and try to hide it.”

“You?” Nigel stared at him in surprise.

His blood fucking boiled at the mere thought of Beth touching his boy, but he tried to let his intrigue at the rest of the little memory take over his energy.

“No offense, darling, but you’re not exactly known for your tremendous acting skills. You told me as much yourself.”

Adam nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. Unfortunately, recalling these encounters now makes me realize that Beth was not focusing very much on me as a person, on any sort of emotional, or passionate attraction towards me. I began to get the impression that to her, sex was just another item on a to-do list to check off. If we had sex every now and then, it proved we were a couple. For appearance’s sake? It was extremely confusing. I’m not gonna miss that.”

“Well, maybe Beth will find her flame of fucking passion with…fucking Jean Claude Van Damme or whatever his name was.” Nigel laughed. “Now, you’ve done enough work for one evening. Let Daddy make your favorite dinner, and you just sit there and relax. How is that, angel?”

“Okay, Daddy,” said Adam automatically.

Nigel’s cock twitched at how readily, how exquisitely his beloved had gotten into the habit of the pet names and indulgence in light Dom/sub dynamics. Their play had thus far been gentle enough that there hadn’t been a need to work out a list of preferences, maybe’s or hard no’s and such. They had all the time in the world for such matters.

Fuck knows I’ll wanna get rougher someday, bring in more kinky shit, most of all to see how he responds to it. So fucking sensitive…

His face turned slightly red as he walked back to the kitchen. Best not to dwell on that particular line of thought for too long, as he found it quite overwhelming. Plus, he and Adam had naturally set the pace to start off on. A lot of people might easily say they were going too fast in their affections and commitment, but no one could say that Nigel rushed Adam into fucking handcuffs, blindfolds and riding crops or anything.

Oh holy fuck…Adam, cuffed to the bed, blindfolded while Nigel pounded into him, Adam over his lap while Nigel spanked him with a leather crop…!

Fuck…think about something else, Nigel. All things in good time. And he meant that. When they were ready to try more intense sexual adventures, they’d know it. For now, Nigel could barely believe he was lucky enough to most likely end the night by making love to Adam in the most vanilla way he’d ever fucked. It made his heart flutter as much as his cock swell.

Adam set the table, then promised not to do any more work. Nigel knew he liked his things a certain way, and held back on putting any seasoning on the mac n’ cheese or broccoli, so Adam could flavor it himself.

Now, as Nigel pressed buttons on the microwave in a daze of lust, Adam was talking behind him, sitting politely at the table. He looked at him to find that Adam was actually folding his hands atop the table. Could he be any more precious? Could it hurt Nigel any worse to love someone this much? Was it going to? Then again, how the fuck could it not? They were only starting out.

Fucking…Nigel scolded his own distracted state as he’d missed a few things his baby said and would never want to seem inattentive. Tuning back in, he heard Adam state matter-of-factly, “And incidentally, Jean Claude Van Damme is Belgian. Beth’s lover from her college days is French.”

Nigel laughed. “What the fuck do I know, kitten? I’m more of a Bruce Willis, Die Hard man myself.”

“Really?” Adam looked oddly delighted all of a sudden. “My friend Harlan also loves the Die Hard movies. Maybe you two can bond over that! I’ve been struggling to conceive of a way to introduce him, eventually, there’s no hurry, without him getting worried or attempting to give me ‘good advice’ which may make me feel frustrated. Or I could get angry. And I don’t want to be angry with Harlan because I know he always means well.”

Nigel finished making the mac n’ cheese and plated it while the broccoli cooked. Since the veggies would be fine at a simmer for a couple more minutes, Nigel leaned on the kitchen island and gave Adam a discerning look.

“Not anticipating the respectable friends will much like you dating me, angelface? Is it that I’m old? My tattoo? The fucking swearing? Smoking? All of the above?”

“Older, not old, Nigel.” Adam tapped his fingers atop his other hand and considered the other questions for a moment. “I anticipate that the age gap, tattoos, fucking swearing and smoking–”

Nigel had found orange soda in Adam’s fridge, and had poured them each a glass. He’d just taken a sip when Adam said ‘fucking swearing,’ and nearly sputter-laughed the soda all over the counter.

Adam continued, too focused on the subject to notice Nigel’s shenanigans. “...may cause Harlan some unease. And how quickly we’ve fallen in love and started an exclusive relationship, with regard to the recent break-up with Beth, I’m pretty sure that’s going to cause him to feel he has to lecture me on this course of action being unwise.”

“At least if you know that already, you can cut him off at the pass by thinking about your answers ahead of time,” Nigel shrugged. “Maybe a quick subject change when he starts going into the advice shit.”

“That’s a good idea!” Adam enthused. “I could even prepare note cards of potential replies, which would probably work for Beth as well.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter to me if Harlan and Beth think I’m the devil. If you don’t mind a few grays and wrinkles, a man who swears like a fucking sailor, and the fact that I love like a hurricane on uppers, then I’m happy.”

“I love everything about you, Nigel.” Adam’s smile and whole demeanor glowed, and he was cuter than a puppy dog.

Trying not to get weak in the knees, Nigel efficiently carried the two plates of food to the table, followed by the drinks. He served Adam with a flourish, then kissed his pretty cheek before sitting down across from him.

“Think it came out okay?” Nigel asked, only mildly concerned. He was an okay chef as long as a recipe was fairly straightforward.

“It’s great,” Adam assured him, forgetting not to speak with his mouth full as he enjoyed the long-delayed cheesy pasta. “Oops. Sorry.”

Nigel just smiled indulgently and leaned across the small table to carefully wipe some cheese sauce from Adam’s flushed-pink cheek. He sat back with a wink and began tucking into his own food, remarking after a few bites that this was actually pretty decent, and that fucking “Amy” chick must know what she was doing.

“I don’t think ‘Amy’ personally made these particular mac ‘n cheese meals,” Adam clarified, brow crinkled. “They were probably prepared in large quantities by staff chefs in a company facility before being packaged and sent to the various local supermarkets. This is the brand’s most popular item, I think.”

Nigel slid his foot under the table, gently nudging Adam’s socked foot with his own. “That so, gorgeous? How interesting.”

Adam had a few more bites before asking, “Would you still like to go up to the roof after dinner and look at the stars? It’s okay if you’re too tired.”

“No, no, not at all, sexy. I’d love to look at the stars with you and hear you talk about your favorite ones. No place I’d rather be.”

“Okay,” Adam said shyly, looking pleased. He nodded at Nigel’s face and asked, “How are you feeling? Your face…elbows and knuckles. Do they hurt a lot?”

“It’s nothing by my standards, sweetheart, please don’t worry.” Nigel was playing footsie with Adam, but he felt like kicking himself for fucking forgetting not to hint at his criminal tendencies.

He’d been trying to figure out a slightly sanitized way to explain tonight’s attack without technically lying, and coming up short. The subject could hardly be ignored for long, with the way Adam kept glancing at his bandages.

Adam sipped his drink and seemed to consider his next remark for a few seconds. This, however, ended with him blurting out, “What standards are you talking about, Nigel? I don’t understand. Can you explain it more clearly?”

“Oh, I just mean that I’m a tough motherfucker. Look at the bright side: you’ll never have to worry about anyone bothering you again. I won’t fucking stand for it.” Jokingly, he flexed his bicep, demonstrating “the guns,” ready to defend his angel.

He tried framing the truthful, but indirect answer in cheerful flirtation, which Adam did not quite seem convinced by.

“I think you’re being truthful about your toughness and your protective nature,” Adam suggested carefully. “But I am beginning to think you’ve been avoiding the subject of your personal life aside from me, and what you do for a living.”

“I–” Nigel tried to reply with something other than: ‘Well, darling, I own strip clubs and run hard drugs with a gang of relocated Romanian career criminals.’

“Well. I guess I…”

“Am I asking too much, too soon?” Adam blurted again, ruefully this time. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know how many dates people go on before discussing the specifics of their life and career.”

Nigel reached across the table and covered Adam’s hand with his own bandaged one, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll make our own rules, just as we’ve been doing since the astronomy classroom, if that works for you. If you’re curious about those things, I guess I can’t fucking blame you. And we’ve certainly gone far enough in a few ways to suggest I owe you those explanations. I do get that. It’s just…”

“Yes?” Adam inquired.

“I don’t want to.... I mean. Fucking hell. Adam, can we just take the whole ‘my life aside from being your devoted lover who fucking adores you’ subject in slow doses? It could potentially weigh the evening down if I tell you my whole sordid bio in a single fucking go. I’m safe now, I’m fine, so…again, there’s no need to worry your pretty little head about that.”

“We don’t need to talk about your whole life and everything about your career tonight.” Adam had finished eating and now smiled, satisfied that Nigel had answered him in a reasonable manner. “You’re completely right. I didn’t even think of it, but if I were to ‘regale’ you with tales of my work life, you might fall asleep instead of remaining alert to the stargazing…and probably some kissing.”

Nigel chuckled and insisted on clearing the dishes, to which his baby nodded with a grin. Adam wasn’t used to being waited on, and it was a constant thrill, spoiling him. Standing beside his boy with the plates in hand, he leaned down and brushed a kiss to his forehead.

“'Probably some kissing'?” he grinned. “Definitely some fucking kissing.”