Chapter 6

 

Friday drags, as Fridays always do, and Paul is tired but excited by the time he finally gets home. It's only been a week since he had Alex here, and it was only one night even then, but the small interactions with Alex that have always compelled now feel like teases as well.

The kid is clearly, explicitly, maybe even calculatedly, a compendium of stories that he might one day tell Paul, but only if Paul very, very lucky. Now that the weekend's finally here Paul doesn't just want him, he wants to earn those tales.

So he cooks, and takes a disgruntled Todd down from the counter when he gets too bold exploring the smells emanating from the stove. By the time everything's in order, Alex has texted him to say he's on his way.

Paul sees his car pull in the drive from the window and meets him at the door, leaning against the frame and grinning when Alex gives a little wave as he comes up the walk.

"Do you always wear that hat out?" he asks. Alex has on the slouchy brown knit beanie from brunch.

Alex lifts the strap of his messenger bag over his head, and sets it down by the door. "Only when there are people. A fan made it for me."

Paul shuts the door, and stops with his hand to the side of Alex's head. "You wear a hat a fan made you to hide from your fans?"

Alex leans into Paul. "She was very sweet."

"You are very strange." Paul says, and tugs it off, smiling at the way the red strands spike up in every direction. "I like you better without it."

When Alex doesn't step away, Paul combs his fingers through his hair, smoothing out the worst of the static. Alex watches him with that strange stillness until Paul curls his fingers around the back of his head. Alex takes the hint and leans in to kiss him.

Alex whines into the kiss and digs his hands into Paul's hips. That's new, and Paul smiles against his mouth. When Alex pulls back slyly, he doesn't let go of Paul.

Paul glances down at his hand. "Dinner's ready," he murmurs, voice a little breathless and still not looking at Alex, "Although I'm not sure we're going to get to it."

Alex chuckles and even blushes, but that's hardly an achievement with his coloring. "I thought it was just me. Youth and inexperience and all."

"No, very much not." Paul takes Alex's hand, prying his fingers from his hip. "Also, you can play innocent, but I remember Nick."

"Only so much you can get up to with boys that don't invite you home," Alex shrugs.

Paul files that away and considers again the possibility that he should rethink some of his assumptions. "Sustenance though?"

"I suppose," Alex says, in a perfect imitation of someone far younger and far more bored than he is.

"All right then," Paul puts his hands on Alex's shoulders. "Dinner," he says, walking him backwards towards the kitchen.

Alex laughs and grabs his waist again, glancing over his shoulder to find his footing. "And then dessert."

 

***

 

"I never had Indian until I got to L.A.," Alex says as Paul passes him a plate. "I still can't get my mom to go out to anything other than Italian or Mexican when she's here."

"Well, this is Thai curry, for one."

"What's the difference?"

Paul bumps Alex's hip on his way to the corkscrew, because Alex is being a shit even if Paul is excited by his volunteering information. "This one, I can make."

Alex grins, and Paul runs his fingers gentle across Alex's stomach as he moves back to the table.

"I suggested Chinese one time when my family was visiting. There was an uproar," Paul says.

Everyone knows something about Alex's family, because he's famous and there were a couple of weeks where every gossip show was way too interested in his not knowing his dad and some drama or other involving his sister.

"God bless America." Alex rolls his eyes and sits down at the table with one leg tucked under him and watches Paul's hands as he opens the wine. "Land of the free, home of the narrow hick palate."

"How long did it take you to try sushi?" Paul asks, because that had been his own personal barometer of Oh, I'm in a big city now way back when.

Alex wrinkles his nose. "Embarrassingly long. Gemma finally made me, which... awesome. Unlike the kimchi she told me was coleslaw."

"It is effectively coleslaw," Paul points out.

"It was my first night in L.A. And it was her recipe. And I was not prepared."

 

***

 

When Paul pours the wine for them both, Alex looks at the bottle and then at Paul.

"Since you're officially legal now," Paul says and catches a drip down the side of his own glass with his thumb. "Also, happy birthday. How hungover are you?"

"Thanks. And not at all."

"So is it birthdays in general you don't like to do, or are you just feeling old and cranky for this one?"

Alex sets down the glass and shrugs. "I got six different offers from three different clubs wanting to host a party for me for free. Great publicity for them. Strange for me. So, no."

"Sounds unfestive."

"After a week at work, home, Gemma, and nothing to do for a night is plenty festive." Alex nudges Paul's foot gently under the table, and gives him a look from under his lashes that's a little shy. "But this is nice, too."

"Well, good," Paul grins at him and nudges back. "Do you want more rice?"

Paul is good to talk to, and over wine and a dinner that is way better than anything Alex could manage in his own kitchen, he is happy to discover just how much they have in common.

Their families for one, at least a little, because Paul is talking about his mom and his sister but never his father. For another, work, and more than work because The Fourth Estate is not the only project either of them have going right now.

Paul, apparently, has scripts of his own that have nothing to do with the terrible schemes of a dysfunctional, lying team of journalists. That he has scripts is really less surprising to Alex than the fact that he's done very little with them, though Paul doesn't seem to want to talk about that. And Alex has the movie coming up.

"Paradise Square," Alex says, when Paul asks about it eagerly. "Historical drama. Immigrants and poverty and gangs and disease in Five Points. It's going to be filming in New York this winter; what days I'm needed is still getting sorted, but I wanted to see what it was like doing something I actually asked to be in."

Paul smiles. "You're really spoiled for choice, aren't you?"

"Terror of the fairytale," Alex says, and tips his glass, watching the wine slide over the surface of it.

"Disney or Grimm?"

Alex smiles. He's been sweet all night but it's a little sharp now. "Andersen," he says.

"You'll be beautiful in it."

"The princess is always beautiful," Alex says derisively.

"Not in your fairytale. In New York."

"Is there a difference?"

Paul clearly takes some time to think the answer through. "New York is temporary."

Alex traces his fingers over Paul's. "So am I." He doesn't know how to explain that that's not about the fact that he's not going to live forever, but that he hasn't been alive for longer. "And so is the story."

Paul flips his palm up and smiles when Alex laces their fingers together. "You're going to have a busy winter. We're working on something now that'll put you on the road too."

Alex looks up from staring at their intertwined hands, curious.

"Exteriors in D.C. And then some stuff here, but out on location."

"What's that?"

"How stupid do you think Zach is for a story?" Paul teases.

"Very," Alex says immediately, and Paul smiles.

"And what language skills landed him his gig?"

Alex's eyes widen. "Shit. Seriously?"

At this point in Fourth's story, it's known that Zach talked his way into his position at the network with various lies about his qualifications. At least Zach can actually speak Farsi, even if the character's not talking about how he actually picked up that particular ability, or how he intends to use it.

"Yup." Paul grins. "Details still to come, but somebody's probably going to be spending some time in the desert before the year is up."

"Oh goody."

"It'll be fun!"

Alex rolls his eyes. "Buy stock in sunblock."

 

***

 

They talk so much that dinner takes forever. Paul's delighted because it means he's not crazy for feeling invested, even if he's self-aware enough to know he probably would be even if dinner had been merely a brief stop on the way to sex.

Eventually, though, they manage to push back from the table.

"Am I taking you to the couch or the bedroom?" he asks casually as he takes their plates to the sink.

"Bed," Alex says distractedly.

When Paul turns around Alex is crouched on the floor, petting Todd. It gets him in that weird biological place that seems reserved for attractive people interacting with small animals or babies.

After a moment, Alex looks up. "Sorry."

Paul shakes his head. "It's fine. Glad you're making friends. Let's bring the wine upstairs, too, okay?"

 

***

 

They're quiet on the stairs and it's awkward for a moment in Paul's bedroom. Alex finds himself thinking about the nights Paul spends alone. It's the mystery of adult and normal life in general that fascinates him as much as what Paul is like when his only company is himself.

He's not sure how much the room itself gives away; pale yellow walls, dark blue comforter, white trim around the windows and doors. The airiness of it is all California, but it lacks the blunt excess of his costars' massive and ugly houses. Even so, the contrast to his own apartment remains immense, and fills Alex with a certain degree of shame over his choices.

After Paul sets down the wine and glasses on the little table next to the armchair that resides in the corner of the bedroom, the silence stretches and snaps only when he finally takes a step toward Alex.

It's nothing then for Alex to close the rest of the gap and kiss him hard, pressing against him. Paul slips his hands into the back pockets of Alex's jeans and kneads at his ass.

"Clothes," Alex mutters as he starts frantically trying to pull Paul out of his.

They break apart only for the logistics of it all.

Alex winds up pushing Paul into the armchair. It's by the windows facing the bed, and it gives Alex a million ideas that range from sitting there getting a show to simply relaxing with his tablet while watching Paul sleep.

Right now, though, they're both naked, and Alex has remembered what it is to be brave. He straddles Paul's lap, wine glass in hand, and offers him a sip.

"No," he says, when Paul tries to take the glass from him.

Paul raises his eyebrows. "All right. But you may regret this," he says with a wicked grin, before he lets Alex hold the glass to his lips again and tilt.

The second the glass is out of the way, Paul fists a hand into Alex's hair. He kisses him hard and, when his mouth opens, feeds him the wine he's let pool on his tongue.

Alex moans, hips grinding against Paul, and almost drops the glass.

Paul laughs, breaks the kiss, and catches the glass just in time.

"Do that again," Alex says breathlessly, wiping wine from his chin.

"Sure, but this time, I hold the glass."

By the time they've finished the wine, Paul has his arm tight around Alex's waist as he shifts and grinds over him, moaning softly into his mouth.

Alex feels drugged somehow on less than half a bottle and Paul.

 

***

 

Paul nips at Alex's lower lip. "You good?" he whispers, because Alex is so damn lost to it. A frantic nod and a whimper before Alex wraps his hand tightly around Paul's dick, is all he gets in response.

Paul lets his head fall back against the chair, drops the now-empty glass out of his hand onto the carpet, and lets Alex drive until Paul comes all over the both of them.

"Hold on to me," he says once he's caught his breath, Alex still shifting, restless and desperate over him.

With an arm under Alex's ass and another across his back, Paul shifts them to the bed, barely. It's just a few steps, and he is happy to leave Alex's ass hanging off the edge, his legs in the air. Paul kneels again, because there is something about Alex that just does that to him, and this time licks over his hole.

"Oh my god," Alex whines, and twists.

"Okay?" Paul asks, because he knows they've been taking risks together that aren't entirely stupid, but aren't particularly responsible either.

"Don't talk, don't stop," Alex gasps.

For a moment, Paul only obeys the first command because Alex tortured, unable to stop moving and unable to get or give himself relief, is the hottest thing he has ever seen, and his spent dick twitches in sympathy. He'll be jerking off to this all week.

"Come on, come on..."

"Patience," Paul breathes and the sound Alex makes is hopeless.

Paul's body tries so hard to react to that it hurts. He presses an arm across the back of Alex's thighs, folding him in half, gets his other hand on his dick, and then licks until the kid comes so hard he's pretty sure the neighbors hear it.

After, he somehow winds up pulling Alex down onto the floor and into his arms.

"What the fuck just happened there?" Alex says, sounding dazed.

Paul laughs and quickly finds himself unable to stop from sheer delight.

Alex smiles and his eyes crinkle but he doesn't seem to have enough of himself together to laugh yet. He loops his arms around Paul's neck and slumps his head against his shoulder.

Paul wraps his arms tighter around his back. "You are unbelievable."

"Not just me," Alex says.

Paul laughs again and kisses the side of his neck. He strokes his back gently as Alex breathes into his shoulder.

"Everything okay there?" Paul finally asks, when a couple of minutes pass with Alex saying nothing at all, just growing steadily heavier in his arms. Paul's starting to get cold and his leg is a bit numb because it's tucked under the weight of both of them and they're on the fucking floor. Alex is warm against him, though, and Paul is happy to stay here as long as Alex needs them to.

"It's too much," Alex says into his skin. He sounds small and far away.

It's not a yes, and Paul goes still, afraid suddenly that maybe he has pushed Alex too far. The idea of letting go of him now or ever is devastating.

"Do you need to stop?" he asks, although there's nothing to stop right now except their strange cuddling in the possibly even stranger afterglow.

"No," Alex says and finally lifts his head to look at Paul, blinking like he's just becoming aware of where he is. "No, it's good." When he smiles, Paul relaxes. "I liked it," Alex adds. In another breath, the smile turns wicked.

"Well good," Paul says, relieved. "Because you have an amazing ass that deserves to be appreciated." He lets his hand drop below Alex's back and squeezes at it.

Alex stills for just a second and then he giggles, before he blinks up at Paul through his lashes with a look that's so dangerous Paul groans.

Despite that moment of boldness, once they finally get themselves untangled enough to stand up, clean up, and stretch out on the bed for an entirely necessary nap, Alex stays pressed close to him. He is even quieter than usual as they lay side by side, their breaths syncing up almost immediately.

Paul rubs a thumb absently over Alex's hip until they both slip into a doze. He wonders, if Alex always lands on his feet, exactly how far he's falling right now.

When Paul wakes, it's to Alex hovering over him, grinning and looking like he's about to get in trouble for something. Paul's first random thought, after thank god, because he looks okay now, is that Alex's dark eyes are mesmerizing.

"How are you?" Paul lifts a hand to brush at Alex's cheek, because his skin is just so tempting.

"Hungry." Alex turns his head to kiss Paul's fingers, and then sucks at the tips of them.

Paul groans and presses his thumb to the corner of Alex's mouth. "Do you want to eat, or do you want to fuck again? Because if you keep doing that, your options are going to be limited."

Alex grins, and pulls away from Paul's hand with a last nip to his fingers. "Eat."

 

***

 

They eat on the couch, passing the container of cold leftovers back and forth and gossiping about everyone they know on Fourth; they don't talk about what everyone on the show might be saying regarding them.

It feels, in spite of the complications sex supposedly brings, like hanging out with Gemma or Shawna. Being with Paul is easy and comfortable and fun. And unlike the occasional chat with Gemma, Alex never feels the need to hide his face in a pillow in embarrassment. He's happy to listen to Paul too, even though it still feels odd to talk so much. Paul is attentive and eager to listen to him, no matter, it seems, what Alex is saying.

Alex doesn't even know what time it is when he finally retrieves his bag from where it's still sitting by the door and follows Paul upstairs to fall back into bed again. They don't stop talking when Paul turns out the light, and with Paul's voice quiet and intimate in the dark, Alex feels his universe expand.

In the morning, Paul is still in bed when Alex wakes, though he's sitting up and has his tablet on his knees.

"Hey you," he says, when Alex groans and pulls the blanket over his head and presses closer to his thigh because it's bright in the room. Paul touches his hair and smiles. "Not a morning person?"

"It's Saturday," Alex complains, because if days off are for anything they for getting caught up on sleep.

Paul chuckles. "Well, you're welcome to stay in bed all day."

Alex considers the offer for a moment: A day in bed with Paul; nothing to do except share space and time; and the very high likelihood of more sex. He's eager to get all of it for as long as he can. But he's also starting to feel restless again. He's too much in his own head even with Paul right here beside him. He supposes that this might be both too new and too much of a good thing. So he pushes back the covers, sits up, and smiles into it when Paul leans in to finally kiss him good morning.

Paul sets his tablet aside. "Shower?"

"Not yet," Alex says. Even though it's warm in the bedroom with the sunlight coming in and their cleanup the night before had been perfunctory at best, he knows a shower will mean the end of this extended and glorious date. He may be restless, but he's not ready for that yet, so he pushes down the blankets and slides down the bed to settle between Paul's legs. Just because they're not spending the day in bed together doesn't mean it can't start it on a high note.

They eat breakfast downstairs, where Alex tries to get Todd off his lap once the cat decides the new human is a sucker who will share the milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl.

He and Paul talk about going to brunch together tomorrow, and Alex sees Paul grin as he and the cat reach a compromise -- Todd gets the dregs of the milk, but with the bowl on the floor. Alex asks quietly if he can come back later tonight, too.

"Stay here today, save yourself the trip," Paul offers.

Alex rubs Todd's ears, and wonders how he used to get along with Beau. "I have some work I have to do," he says, and it's only partly a lie. There's a call to his agent he needs to make, emails have been piling up that he needs to answer, and he pretty much always has research reading to do. "Ask me again next week?"

Paul smiles. "Will do."

When Alex is ready to leave Paul drags him into a kiss by the door. It takes effort not to let himself sink into it and he's not entirely successful. If he lets go completely he's not sure he'll ever leave, and he needs to.

It's a relief to be in his car alone, and after he pulls out of Paul's driveway and gets a few blocks away he has to remind himself that he can't just pull over to take a few deep breaths, both because he's him and because L.A. cops are assholes.

Alex knows he should head home -- even having gotten advance warning, Gemma's probably about to go nuts -- but he winds up driving down to the pier and parking in one of the awkward public lots off to the side of the highway that are always a little deserted because the tourists don't realize they're there.

He's been coming here a lot in the last year. The beach, weirdly, is one of the only places he doesn't get recognized, if only because he appears to be one more pretty kid in a stupid beanie nursing unlikely dreams in Santa Monica -- no one notices and no one cares. So he pays the muni meter, takes off his shoes, and sits cross-legged in the sand far enough from the water that no one gets within twenty feet of him.

It's good for feeling small, which today is grounding. It's not always, and the one thing he wishes Victor had told him before his life blew up is that fame mostly will make you feel like less than you have ever been.

He wonders if it's that, or the age difference, or just his own lack of experience with other humans that makes everything that's going on with Paul feel so good and so temporary. Because Alex is pretty sure Paul will show him things, and then he'll be gone into some real relationship, with a real adult who's a real person all the time; they'll even get another real dog. Todd probably misses having a dog around. Paul probably worries about that. Alex laughs at the nonsensical paths his brain seems insistent on taking this morning.

Gemma calls while he's stewing, and instead of telling her to fuck off or giving in to her badgering, he convinces her to come meet him.

"Lot 8," he says with relief when she agrees, because he is not ready to go back to their dreary lightless coffin of an apartment and try to process this with or without her.

When she shows up he startles himself by saying, "So I think it's time to start house hunting."

Because she's terrible, and because they've talked about it ever so faintly in the past, she starts listing her suggestions and requirements before Alex can even ask her if she wants to move with him.

Eventually, he makes her run up to the pier proper to get them beach fries and lemonades, because that he really can't do, and, when she comes back, he asks her if she's ever had anal sex. It's a question he instantly regrets because even with the implicit invitation, she manages to overshare, tells him nothing useful, and makes several sets of crazy assumptions about his life in the process.

While Gemma babbles, Alex stares at the ocean from behind his sunglasses and eats his fries. When he can no longer avoid some sort of response to her monologue, he says, "So rimming's good, you should try that."

She winds up tackling him into the sand with laughter when he refuses to say anything more.

Alex wonders if this is what college would have been like.

It feels lonely when he has to get back in his car to follow her home, but once there he happily faceplants on his bed and takes a two-hour nap. When he gets up, he avoids emailing Margaret with a ton of stuff he knows isn't really her department and instead just says, Having an attack of the grownups. I need to buy a house, and I need an assistant. Probably not in that order. Help?

She drops him a note back from her phone reminding him he has a financial advisor he should actually talk to about the first, but that she'll see what she can do on the second. Alex looks around his room and wonders if when he and Gemma leave he should leave a note in the weird crevice by the window jamb. He wants to let whoever the next tenant is know that yes, there are cockroaches and faucet drips, and the tiling in the kitchen is super ugly, but this place, small and terrible, may just treat them kindly anyway.