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LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, Sean disembarked from the backseat of Dud’s jeep, the electronics whiz-girl Rachel spilling out the other side. The Warehouse was dimly lit except for the arena, and loud strains of hard-metal renditions of Christmas carols filled the air.
Nell turned to Sean. “We fight, but since it’s Saturday, we decided to turn it into an early holiday party before people run off to spend time with their families.”
“Kind of early, isn’t it? It’s only December 11th,” Sean said.
“Wait until the finals hit,” Nell replied with a tone that spoke of experience. “There will be no time to party then.”
“Okay.” Sean looked through the crowd. “Is Asbjorn coming?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t he say?” Nell looked at Sean, scrunching her nose in concern.
Sean just shrugged and turned away, scanning the crowd. He’d seen Asbjorn only from afar over the last few days, and every glimpse of the man was like a stab in the gut. He’d failed to mention that Asbjorn dumped him. He also failed to mention why. Everyone knew of a massive, red-herring fire alarm at the Pile that took until three in the morning to clear away, with police road blocks and fire engines barring the way. The fire marshal, together with the policeman in charge, had produced a charred bag of microwave popcorn, satisfying the curiosity of the media as well as that of the onlookers from the surrounding buildings.
The Warehouse garage door rolled up, admitting a black, red-trimmed Porsche Carrera with Adrian Rios at the wheel. His dark, spiked head popped out as he gracefully slithered from the confines of the tight vehicle. His espresso eyes sparked with glee as he surveyed the scene, lips stretched in a wild grin as he nodded to his partner. “C’mon, Don! Great crowd tonight.”
A white-haired man just ten years Adrian’s senior oozed out of the snug passenger seat and turned around to tilt the seat forward.
Sean froze at the sight of the familiar, broad-shouldered frame that emerged next.
“Fuck man, I thought I’d never get out from that tiny backseat!” Asbjorn stretched his considerable height and looked around with only a hint of his customary lazy grin on his face.
“This baby’s built for speed, not comfort,” Adrian said absently.
Asbjorn seemed to have been scanning the crowd. His eyes briefly halted on Sean. Their eyes met for an awkward and uncertain moment. Asbjorn nodded to him in greeting.
Just friends.
Sean nodded and turned his back, appalled. His eyes itched. He would not cry. He was here to fight. He was here to kick some ass. He was here to prove he doesn’t flinch from punches.
He saw Dud and Nell exchange a concerned glance.
“Mark, you sick fuck,” Don growled, his eyes returning from the bit of greenery hanging above them and landing on the short blond who met him in the middle of the ring.
“You’re standing under the mistletoe, Don. Gotta do it or have bad luck all year, dude!” Mark grinned and lifted his wide, narrow lips to Don’s.
Don grimaced at the jeering crowd, and then he leaned down for a sanitary peck. “Ready to fight yet?” He growled.
They drank their shot of Aquavit. They bowed. They fought. Mark lost.
“Aw, man. Now you get to pick the next fight.”
Sean stood next to Rachel, who was presently examining his cell phone recording device. The black tape was still holding it together.
“So the deal is you drink and then you fight. You earn your alcohol by putting on a show,” he told her.
“What are the rules?”
“Ah... no permanent injuries, I think. The Golden Rule applies.”
“Who will share drink and blood with me?” Don’s voice rang strong and clear, and he looked around, stopping to look in Sean’s direction. Not at Sean, though.
“Shit,” Rachel said, making sure her ponytail was secure. “What’s he good at?”
“Everything,” Sean replied. “Just do your best.” He shoved her toward the ring.
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ASBJORN WATCHED HIS student stumble toward the ring, and grinned. After all, she asked to be here. It wasn’t his fault she drew Don for her first fight.
He watched her take a shot of Aquavit from Don’s hand. “I’ll share your drink and your blood!”
They drank, and she was about to take a few steps back and bow when Don grabbed her hand. “Not so fast. Look up, chickie.”
Asbjorn watched with great amusement as Rachel’s cheeks flushed crimson at the sight of the mistletoe, and his eyebrows rose at the way the girl measured Don up and down, taking in the cut muscles delineated under his painted-on shirt. Satisfied with her inspection, she shrugged and stepped closer as his large hand snaked around her waist and pulled her in. Her lashes fluttered shut as she tilted her head up. Their lips met, not breaking up for a while.
“What’s she getting her black belt in, again?” Dud snorted.
Asbjorn grinned, hearing the crowd hoot in appreciation when the girl’s knee bent, her foot kicking up.
“Get’im, Rachel!” Nell shouted next to Asbjorn. “Now’s the time!”
They broke the kiss and got down to business.
The fight was short and sweet. After some circling about, a few kicks and punches were thrown by each combatant and failed to connect. During a too-tight pass, Rachel bumped her hips into Don, catching him below the waist with her lower center of gravity. She dropped, grabbed his knee, and stood up. Don waved his arms around and fell back in a hard breakfall, his head barely avoiding the concrete floor. Rachel launched her smaller form at him and ground one knee into his hip right next to his groin. A threat.
She had watched Sean work on some moves over the weeks – including choke-outs. Her small fists grabbed the neckline of Don’s tight, sleeveless shirt right by the sides of his throat, using the leverage of the fabric to squeeze the knuckles of her thumbs into the pressure points on the jugular. If luck and skill was on her side, doing so would signal the brain to shut down momentarily. One Mississippi, two Mississippi...
Two mean, hard fingers lifted her whole body, invading the hollow of her throat. She arched back, avoiding that threatening pressure against her trachea.
“Not a bad move. She almost pulled it off,” Asbjorn commented from the sidelines.
“She can choke out like that a lot faster if she practices. Have you shown her how?” Nell asked.
“No. If you lay it on too fast, it can become a lethal technique.”
“We should tell her,” Nell opined. “She already knows what to do anyhow.”
“Yeah. She’s ready.”
But she wasn’t ready for the wrestling bridge Don pulled as he flipped her over and pinned her to the floor with his considerably stronger body. His hands fixed her wrists to the cold concrete as he lowered his head, and seemed to whisper something in her ear.
Her color rose to her cheeks again, this time in anger. “Oh, fuck you!”
“Promises, promises.” Don jumped to his feet and offered her his hand, which she rejected with a deadly glare. He walked off grinning.
“What did he tell you?” Nell asked, eager to investigate the reason behind her scowl.
“That asshole. He said I kiss better than I fight!”
“You did good, kid. Even though Don’s language seems to be rubbing off on you.”
Rachel gave Asbjorn an evil glare. “There will be another time. And I’ll get you too, Sensei. You had way too much fun watching that.”
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TWO HOURS LATER, SEAN had four beers and four fights under his belt. He did flinch. The recent assault invaded his thoughts at the most inopportune moments, but he found it wasn’t as bad as he feared it would be, and his reaction was improving with each violent encounter.
“The more exposure you have, the less it seems to trigger flashbacks.”
He scowled when he realized the words in his mind had come from Asbjorn. He bowed his head in a brief moment of gratitude, for his flashbacks no longer paralyzed him. Part of his toughened exterior could surely be ascribed to Asbjorn’s presence. He absolutely would not lose face before the man who dumped him.
“Sean. I thought you were dead.”
“We had a deal.”
“I can’t go on like this. It’s killing me.”
Snippets of Asbjorn’s words wedged themselves into Sean’s mind, intruding upon his consciousness when he least expected it. Yet the intrusion wasn’t unwelcome. It was uncomfortable, yes. But it felt well deserved. The man seemed to have loved him in such a dedicated, one-sided way, standing by his side through the most fragile beginnings of what they had had together, and yet... Sean didn’t quite know why he couldn’t let Asbjorn all the way past his defenses. He deserved to feel bad – and Asbjorn deserved to feel a lot better than he did on that night almost a week ago.
Sean missed him. He missed being able to sleep without his clothes and shoes on, without having all his alarms set. He missed the casual touches and kisses, the random gifts of soy milk latte with a shot of caramel, the feeling of Asbjorn’s heavy warmth on top of him, drowning in his warm, blue eyes...
Sean grabbed two bottles of Sam Adams Winter Harvest, opened them, and strode into the middle of the ring again.
“Who will share my beer and my blood?” He looked around, searching. There were takers out there, some eager to make contact with his elusive, slippery gaze. Asbjorn’s eyes were downcast.
Sean reached deep within himself. He braced for rejection. He centered, aware of his one point. “Asbjorn, will you share my beer and my love?”
Fuck. What a Freudian slip that was. Blood, not love. I’m such a loser.
Sean felt heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks; hearing Ken snicker made it even worse.
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THE CROWD FELL SILENT, their eyes on Asbjorn.
“Do something, you lummox,” Ken said, kicking Asbjorn in the rear with the hard toes of his bare foot.
Since eyes were on him already, Asbjorn looked at Sean, meeting his brown eyes. Not chocolate-melty eyes. This time they reminded him of hard metamorphic rocks he used to climb in the Catskills, immovable and resolute. He fought not to respond to the pain he saw in Sean’s gaze. “I will share your beer and your blood. B-l-o-o-d. Blood.”
He saw Sean nod in acceptance.
Asbjorn entered the ring and accepted his beer. “My favorite,” he said, surprised.
Bottles emptied and put away, they were about to square off when Sean made a time-out sign. “Bjorn... look above.”
The mistletoe hung off a fishing line, seemingly suspended in midair. White berries shone against misty green leaves and a red ribbon held the small bouquet together.
“For luck, Asbjorn?”
“We had a deal.”
“Just friends.”
“A kiss between friends can do no harm, Sean.” Asbjorn approached and deposited a chaste kiss on Sean’s generous, upturned lips, and as he did so, he felt something fragile breaking inside him. His jaw tightened, fighting to maintain composure at the sight of Sean’s almost-closed eyes, his moist, lightly parted lips. Asbjorn backed away again, assuming his ready position. “You ready, Sean?”
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OH YEAH. Sean was more than ready. He was raring to go. He kept his distance a bit far for Asbjorn to land a punch, leaving his legs within reach. Asbjorn kicked for his knee, and Sean swooped down, captured the leg, and lifted it. Asbjorn fell back and Sean followed, landing on top of Asbjorn, wrestling him for a choke-out.
Just as Sean had been hoping and planning, Asbjorn flipped them over. Now it was Sean who was pinned under Asbjorn’s body, his hands held down to the cold concrete floor.
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AS ASBJORN FLIPPED Sean, he thought going for the choke-out wasn’t too bad. A bit like Rachel’s strategy, but it needed more work. On top of Sean, his body pressing his ex under his chest and hips, his hands immobilizing his smaller wrists in a way he recalled from before –
– and Sean writhing under him, Asbjorn’s name tumbling off his lips in an incoherent cry, his pleasure cresting –
He shook his head, trying to banish the memory just as Sean’s lips parted slightly, his eyes softening to that hazed, molten look.
“Asbjorn...,” he whispered for him alone. Sean’s heel grazed the back of Asbjorn’s leg, riding it all the way up to his butt.
Asbjorn dealt with loss and pain a lot better than he dealt with public embarrassment. “No, Sean. We had a deal.” He let go of Sean’s wrists and sprang to his feet. He seethed as he turned his back on former lover. He would not be manipulated, and he would not be shamed before his friends. Anger welled within him – enough anger would mask the pain.
His gaze caught the eyes of Don and Adrian, who stood near him. How did they do it? Their dynamic was so much like his and Sean’s, yet they made it work – somehow. He headed toward them.
“Wanna fight?” Adrian asked. He’d been out only once, defeated by Nell.
“Okay.”
Asbjorn didn’t remember much of the fight he lost. Mostly, he remembered the shot of Aquavit burning its path down his throat and the sweet, sensuous lips of Adrian Rios under the mistletoe, his electrifying tongue, and his half-closed eyes, filled with warmth and caring.
He also remembered the look of stunned hurt on Sean’s face and the way he turned his back afterward.
We had a deal.
Only a full partnership will do.
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“OKAY, HE WAS CONCERNED for me. I get that part.” Sean scowled in anger as he tried to mask the pain in his eyes.
“Do you get the ‘deal’ part?” Ken asked, his words slow and careful, as though he were addressing a very young child.
“Yes – but I just made a mistake. Just one stupid mistake. So I didn’t call. Do you realize how overprotective he is?”
“Your mistake almost blew the whole investigation, Sean.” Ken drank more fine tequila straight out of the bottle. He gestured at Sean, who nodded and held his plastic cup out. The stuff was good, and not only to dull the ache in his chest. “He thought you’d tell him everything, that you’d be a team. Granted, it takes time to coordinate with someone to work in tandem like that. Me and David Burrows took some time before we’d trust one another in bar fights and such.”
Sean filed away the information about Burrows-sensei and focused back on the Asbjorn problem. “So you’re saying Asbjorn was unrealistic in his expectations?” Sean’s hopes rose.
“Only in part. Not telling your partner where you’re spending the night is idiotic and rude. I’d never spend the night elsewhere and not let Margaret know, even before we were married. Heather always reports her change of position, from one friend’s house to another. It’s common courtesy – and we don’t even have a psycho stalking us.”
“Oh.”
Ken sipped some more. “That’s the bad news, kid – you’re in the wrong. But there’s good news too.” He looked at Sean, staring him down with his piercing, amber gaze. “He’s hurting. He misses you. His sword work ain’t worth shit. His focus’s totally shot. He’s still keeping his eye on you, trying to keep you safe. My feeling is, if you fess up on being wrong, and if the two of you talk it over, there is a chance you could give things a fresh start.”
“You think, Kenny?” Sean’s glued his drunk gaze to the older man’s face like he was his last hope. He hiccupped. When he realized he called the older man by a nickname, he felt heat rise in his face.
“Yeah. But that’s your only chance. Be straight-up with him. That’s what partners do.”
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“IF YOU PUKE INSIDE my car, I’ll have your ass, Asbjorn. I’ve never seen you this wasted before, and that’s saying something.”
Asbjorn heard Adrian’s voice as though through a thick fog.
“Just avoid the potholes,” Don grumbled.
“Take him in?” Adrian asked, sliding his eyes to Don.
“Yeah. He’s due for some R and R.”
Asbjorn’s eyes opened, fighting the pressure of hangover that kept trying to push his eyes closed. He vaguely remembered throwing up, and he remembered the assistance of friendly hands. Right now, though, the elves inside his skull kept tap-dancing in their pointy shoes while playing bagpipes at top volume, their every step provoking a jolt of stunning pain. He closed his eyes again, exhaling, clearing the pain away. It occurred to him that the ceiling of his bedroom wasn’t painted dark blue, nor was his bed this large and soft. His sheets weren’t an expensive white jacquard trimmed with blue piping, either. He stirred, feeling the warmth of a body on both his left and right side. His eyes remained closed as he felt the bodies shift infinitesimally. His keen ears caught the sound of clicking of small keyboards. On both sides.
Curious, he cracked his eyelids just the tiniest bit. Adrian was to his left, Don was on his right. They moved carefully, as though not to wake him up. Asbjorn groaned and shifted, feigning sleep, as he moved closer to Don. The clicking stopped, only to resume once he was settled down again. He cracked his eyes open and caught a snippet of Don’s cell phone screen.
Will he wanna?
Dunno.
I want him. U OK w that?
LOL he’s yum.
Will he?
Up to him.
“What are you two negotiating?” Asbjorn growled, suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic, sandwiched between the two men. The fact that he was still clad in his T-shirt and briefs was a thin comfort.
Two phones beeped off. Don’s expression became guarded, only a tug of a smile playing with his lips. Adrian didn’t fare much better.
“Spill it, guys. Will who wanna what?”
“Maybe I should go put on coffee and we should shower first. Adrian will explain.” Don slapped his phone on the night table and bounded out of bed, his boxer shorts riding low on his slim hips.
Asbjorn followed him with his eyes.
“Like what you see?”
Asbjorn looked at Adrian as Adrian’s strong, fine-boned hand skimmed Asbjorn’s belly and he draped his arm comfortably across his torso. Adrian’s touch sent tingles through is body. Asbjorn met his eyes. They were wide open, searching, questioning.
“If you let us, Asbjorn, Don and I would like to make you feel a lot better.”
“W... what? Me? With you two?”
Adrian nodded, and hint of a smile blossomed as he raised himself on his elbow over Asbjorn’s head. He dipped down, nearing Asbjorn’s lips with excruciating slowness. “Say ‘no’ if you don’t want to.”
Asbjorn felt confused. Very confused. A guilty pang in the back of his mind asserted itself. “What about Sean?”
Adrian stopped his descent. “That’s between you and Sean. I hope you two can still make it work, but while you’re apart, you’re a free agent.” Adrian’s eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown. “Aren’t you?”
“I dumped him.” Asbjorn sighed, none too happy with the fact. “So, yes, technically, I have nothing to feel guilty about.” He paused. “Why do you guys want to?”
“Sometimes we like to play with others.” Adrian smiled. “In fact, if you and Sean ever do want to join us, I think the situation would have serious potential.”
An image of Sean and Adrian together flashed through Asbjorn’s mind. He felt a flare of jealous anger, followed by a jolt of excitement below his waist.
His hangover was forgotten as confusion reigned. He tried to think – he was a free agent. If he was to do what he wanted, he had no business feeling jealous over a purely theoretical image of Sean with somebody else. He forced himself to breathe again. “Let me slip into the bathroom and freshen up,” he said. “Is there a spare toothbrush?”
“There is a guest basket under the sink,” Adrian responded with a languid smile. He looked Asbjorn up and down as he made his way to the bathroom. His attention made Asbjorn self-conscious, but not necessarily in a bad way. He pissed, brushed his teeth and took a quick shower, pulled his T-shirt and boxers on again, and emerged.
Don and Adrian stopped their conversation, and Don stood up and nodded at him. “Coffee’s made, you two. My turn to shower, so don’t start without me!” Don walked past the king-size bed on his way to the bathroom.
Asbjorn stood there, feeling awkward, until Adrian patted the middle of the bed. “Coming back in?”
Asbjorn slipped back under the covers. He and Sean were no longer together. There was nothing to feel guilty about. But if that was so, why did he keeping thinking of Sean all the time? With an irritated huff, he propped himself up on his elbow, reached for Adrian’s neck, and drew him into a kiss. The taste of Adrian’s coffee mingled with his toothpaste, and as their tongues touched, Asbjorn felt his body respond.
“Mmm....” It was Adrian who broke the kiss. He ran his hand up Asbjorn’s chest, tracing long fingers up his throat and along the strong, chiseled jaw. “You’re so exquisitely beautiful, Asbjorn.” He dipped his lips to Asbjorn’s vulnerable throat, tasting his skin. “Don saw us kiss under the mistletoe and decided that you and I’d look good together. Except, us being partners, we always share. Are you okay with that?”
Asbjorn took in the sultry look in Adrian’s eyes, thinking Adrian was the exquisitely beautiful one. He emanated heat and want and pure enjoyment of good things to come. Adrian looked like someone who would really enjoy it – there was no hesitation, no tepid shyness – and Asbjorn felt himself grow even harder.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay with both of you.”
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THE WINTRY SUN MOVED higher in the sky by the time they were done. Showered and dressed, they reclined on a newly made bed in a tangle of limbs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Don’s worried tones sank into Asbjorn’s awareness like feet into sand.
“Shhh....” Adrian’s hand in his hair felt soothing, moving like the waves of the ocean.
“Yeah. Good. Different, though.” He could not get rid of the feeling of vague guilt and discomfort, wondering where Sean was that Sunday, and what he was doing. He was testifying in three days. The countdown was running in the back of Asbjorn’s mind, whether he liked it or not.
Sunshine.
“You sure don’t look too happy now that it’s over, though,” Don said, not meeting his eyes.
Asbjorn paused for a while before he said anything. “I’m sorry to spoil the mood, guys – just, all of a sudden I felt this overwhelming feeling of... I dunno.”
“What feeling, Bjorn?” Adrian’s arm was draped over his shoulders in a protective hug.
“Sadness.”
Adrian sat up and looked at him, the understanding in his eyes making him suddenly much older than his years. “But now you know.”