the United Fucking States of America. They aren’t coming in here again.”
Even Garrett couldn’t miss the fury behind the words. He didn’t understand it. Carlo said they hadn’t been rude to him. Why was he angry?
The final bit of energy from the night seeped out of him. His limbs felt leaden, but it didn’t matter because he was disconnected, floating a half-inch outside of everything. The lights in the office were suddenly too bright, or maybe he was too dark. He looked at Carlo and tried to remember how his partner’s lips tasted, but the memory was too far away, out of reach. He really needed to get out of here.
“Right then. That’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Carlo went completely still.
“You’re going home? To your apartment?”
Where else? Then he remembered. He had gotten in the habit of going home with Carlo.
“I’m tired,” he said.
Carlo’s anger had been replaced with something else. Something that made him look almost frantic.
“No.” He shook his head. “You’ve had a rough night. You haven’t eaten. Come home with me, and I’ll make you something.”
He knew Carlo was right. He should be hungry. But nothing sounded appetizing. “I don’t want—”
“ Please , Garrett.”
“But I’m not hungry. I’m just….”
“Tired.” Carlo sighed, looking defeated. “I know, babe. Okay, let me tell Andi we’re leaving. I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I do, babe. Just let me come with you, okay?”
Arguing that he could get home on his own seemed like a massive waste of energy. So he waited for Carlo to come back, let him organize a cab and slide in next to him. Carlo didn’t try to talk anymore, at least. They rode in silence through the almost deserted late-night streets. Everything felt side-ways, off kilter, reduced to monochromatic shades of gray, but he didn’t know how to set it back right.
He would deal with it all tomorrow. Right now his head felt so heavy he could barely keep it upright. He wanted to rest it against the window, but he was afraid he would fall asleep.
Except the closer they got to his apartment, the more he worried that he wouldn’t sleep. The insomnia would come, and no matter how tired he was, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He would be stuck in this state of numbness forever where the only thing that felt real was Carlo’s hand covering his, Carlo’s thumb stroking reassuringly along his skin.
When the cab stopped, Carlo paid the fare and got out with him. In the lobby, Garrett stopped and tried again.
“You don’t have to come up.”
“I know.”
Upstairs Carlo used his own key to let them in. “Matt’s not here?”
“Found his own place.”
“Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
Carlo sounded worried, so Garrett thought about it before answering. But his taste buds were affected with the same numbness as the rest of his body.
“No,” he finally decided.
He thought Carlo would leave then, but, instead, he steered Garrett into his bedroom, had him sit on the bed, then knelt in front of him and began unlacing Garrett’s shoes and taking them off.
Garrett reached out and touched his hair, Carlo’s hair that was so soft on his days off but right now was stiff and styled for work. He rubbed a strand between his fingers, trying to make it relax. How did he tell Carlo he wasn’t up for sex tonight?
“Carlo?”
The second shoe came off, and Carlo’s hands slid up his calves, around the outside of his thighs, and finally cupped his hips, squeezing lightly. Garrett assumed his pants came next, but instead Carlo just leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Garrett’s waist, and held him.
Warm. He hadn’t been aware of being cold, but now he was warm where Carlo touched him. The thought of losing that warmth warred with the lethargy.
“I don’t—” He stopped because the mere thought of Carlo moving away sent a bone-deep shiver through him.
“Do you want to top?”
Even Garrett couldn’t miss the fury behind the words. He didn’t understand it. Carlo said they hadn’t been rude to him. Why was he angry?
The final bit of energy from the night seeped out of him. His limbs felt leaden, but it didn’t matter because he was disconnected, floating a half-inch outside of everything. The lights in the office were suddenly too bright, or maybe he was too dark. He looked at Carlo and tried to remember how his partner’s lips tasted, but the memory was too far away, out of reach. He really needed to get out of here.
“Right then. That’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Carlo went completely still.
“You’re going home? To your apartment?”
Where else? Then he remembered. He had gotten in the habit of going home with Carlo.
“I’m tired,” he said.
Carlo’s anger had been replaced with something else. Something that made him look almost frantic.
“No.” He shook his head. “You’ve had a rough night. You haven’t eaten. Come home with me, and I’ll make you something.”
He knew Carlo was right. He should be hungry. But nothing sounded appetizing. “I don’t want—”
“ Please , Garrett.”
“But I’m not hungry. I’m just….”
“Tired.” Carlo sighed, looking defeated. “I know, babe. Okay, let me tell Andi we’re leaving. I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I do, babe. Just let me come with you, okay?”
Arguing that he could get home on his own seemed like a massive waste of energy. So he waited for Carlo to come back, let him organize a cab and slide in next to him. Carlo didn’t try to talk anymore, at least. They rode in silence through the almost deserted late-night streets. Everything felt side-ways, off kilter, reduced to monochromatic shades of gray, but he didn’t know how to set it back right.
He would deal with it all tomorrow. Right now his head felt so heavy he could barely keep it upright. He wanted to rest it against the window, but he was afraid he would fall asleep.
Except the closer they got to his apartment, the more he worried that he wouldn’t sleep. The insomnia would come, and no matter how tired he was, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He would be stuck in this state of numbness forever where the only thing that felt real was Carlo’s hand covering his, Carlo’s thumb stroking reassuringly along his skin.
When the cab stopped, Carlo paid the fare and got out with him. In the lobby, Garrett stopped and tried again.
“You don’t have to come up.”
“I know.”
Upstairs Carlo used his own key to let them in. “Matt’s not here?”
“Found his own place.”
“Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
Carlo sounded worried, so Garrett thought about it before answering. But his taste buds were affected with the same numbness as the rest of his body.
“No,” he finally decided.
He thought Carlo would leave then, but, instead, he steered Garrett into his bedroom, had him sit on the bed, then knelt in front of him and began unlacing Garrett’s shoes and taking them off.
Garrett reached out and touched his hair, Carlo’s hair that was so soft on his days off but right now was stiff and styled for work. He rubbed a strand between his fingers, trying to make it relax. How did he tell Carlo he wasn’t up for sex tonight?
“Carlo?”
The second shoe came off, and Carlo’s hands slid up his calves, around the outside of his thighs, and finally cupped his hips, squeezing lightly. Garrett assumed his pants came next, but instead Carlo just leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Garrett’s waist, and held him.
Warm. He hadn’t been aware of being cold, but now he was warm where Carlo touched him. The thought of losing that warmth warred with the lethargy.
“I don’t—” He stopped because the mere thought of Carlo moving away sent a bone-deep shiver through him.
“Do you want to top?”
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