Chapter 12

 

"Wow, man, you look like shit."

Alex rolls his eyes and makes an apologetic face to the woman at the desk who is trying to check him in to the hotel in D.C. as Liam bounces up to him. "So would you if you'd just spent a cross country flight sobbing into your eye mask."

"Oh my god, you guys are so cute."

Alex doesn't even have the energy to remind Liam of bystanders. At least Natalie and Raphael are in a different hotel. "We had a fight."

"Oh. Oh shit. Why?"

"Does the thing where you, Victor, and Paul made decisions for my life without consulting me ring any bells?"

Liam splutters. "Dude, that is not--"

"I've barely slept. Everything's crazy, and I'm pissed at you. Please go away?"

"Do you want to talk?"

"No, Liam. I do not want to talk. I want to drown myself in the bathtub, but a nap is going to have to do," he says as he collects his key card.

"I'm in 723 if you want to talk."

"Right." Alex walks away.

"What room are you in?" Liam shouts.

"Not one I'm going to holler across the lobby at you," Alex calls back without turning around. Fuck his life. And night shoots on top of it all.

 

***

 

It's the last thing he wants to do, but Alex has been off the grid since LAX and needs to check his phone. Thankfully, everything in the handful of notifications can be ignored for now, but there's an email from Paul.

He stares at it for a good fifteen seconds, reading the subject line -- simply, Alex, like he is the problem in this whole fucking mess -- over and over before he finally opens it.

It's many screens long, but the jist of it all is in the last sentence: I adore you. I fucked up, and I'm sorry. Can we work this out?

Six hours of misery on the plane was plenty of time for Alex to come down from his pitch of righteous anger and realize how terrible and unfair he'd been. He's fucked up, too, badly, and they do need to talk, but he hasn't slept and has only a few hours before he has to be at work.

Got to D.C. okay, he replies. I know I was an asshole. I'm sorry. But I didn't know we were together and I really didn't know we were married. I'm 21 and trying to do TV and a movie a long way from home. I can't do this right now.

Alex hits send, sets an alarm, and then collapses onto the bed without bothering to take his shoes off.

 

***

 

He's woken, not by his alarm, but by a pounding on his door so insistent, he thinks for a moment the hotel may be on fire. He takes a moment to just lie there and consider whether or not that would actually be an awesome turn of events.

But when he gets out of bed and looks through the peephole, it's just Liam.

"What do you want?" he asks as he opens the door. He feels disgusting and has no bandwidth for whatever this is.

"We gotta talk, dude."

"Jesus Christ, if this is about Paul you've--"

"Nooo, it's not," Liam says, pushing his way into Alex's room. "The timing's shit, and I'm sorry, and I'm still willing to listen if you wanna talk about it, but trust me, you're gonna be less pissed at me about a whole set of other things if we have this conversation now as opposed to later."

"Okaaaaay," Alex says, puzzled, as he lets the door slip closed. He retreats into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water on his face to prepare for whatever the hell is happening now.

Liam leans against the bathroom doorframe, ignoring Alex's glare in his direction.

"I want to tell you this now before we have to shoot the stuff tonight, because it's, you know, stuff and you deserve to know it, and--"

"What is it, Liam?" Alex tosses down the towel and then props himself against the fake marble of the bathroom counter, folding his arms over his chest.

"So I'm bi."

Alex cracks up.

"Dude! Hey!" Liam looks affronted, and it's that, that makes Alex stop with a hand over his mouth.

"You're kidding. You are actually kidding."

Liam shoves his hands in his pockets and for once in his life says nothing.

Alex lowers the hand over his mouth slowly. "You're not actually kidding."

"Hey, man, don't stereotype."

"LIAM."

"Yeah?"

"What the actual fuck."

"I'm not in the closet. I mean -- it's not a secret."

"Like fuck it isn't."

"It's complicated, okay!"

"SO EXPLAIN IT."

"I’m trying! You laughed in my face." Liam looks wounded.

Alex cannot process any of this. "I'm not going to apologize for anything right now," he says carefully.

"Yeah, that's...yeah, that's probably cool. Anyway." Liam shuffles his feet, and then gives Alex a look Alex knows he practices. "I wanted to tell you before we had to shoot the kiss tonight."

"Thank you for the advance warning."

"You're--"

"No, seriously, Liam." Alex pushes past him out of the bathroom. "Why the fuck is it that I have no time to process shit because everyone in my life keeps waiting until the last minute to drop bombshells on me? On purpose?!?"

"Dude, I'm sorry Paul--"

"Does Paul know about this?"

"What does that have to do with--"

"DOES HE KNOW?"

"Yes." Liam says, and sits down cross-legged on the end of Alex's bed. "And if he didn't say anything it's 'cause he's a good guy, so don't be pissed at him for my choices, okay?"

Alex gapes. "Please tell me you haven't slept with him."

"Nope."

"No you haven't or no you're not telling me?"

"No, I haven't," Liam says seriously.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Only about that," Alex clarifies. "I'm still pissed at you."

"You know this isn't actually about you, right?" Liam says in a manner that suggests he has a lot of practice pointing that out to people, whether true or not.

"And that's why you're telling me this and why the Internet has spent the last year thinking we're dating."

"Look, I'm sorry about that. It's not fun for Carly and me either, but there's nothing--"

"Bullshit. You played that up every second you could. While saying you're straight. Who does that?"

"It's helped both of us," Liam says mildly.

"I'm the fucking twink. That's what helped you," Alex snaps, before cursing under his breath.

"Ego, ego," Liam teases in lieu of yelling back.

"You know what I mean," Alex says, deflating.

"Yeah. I do."

"So why?"

"Well, I'm with Carly for one. For another, you wanna try explaining non-monogamy and/or bisexuality to TV Guide?"

"Alan Cumming," Alex replies.

"Great name, right?"

"Are you trying to get me to storm out of my own hotel room?"

"Look, it's not convenient or salient or easy. I've never lied about it. I've omitted, and I've dodged, but I have never lied about it, and you can go back through every interview and check that."

"But, because it wasn't going to get you the cover of People, you didn't tell," Alex clarifies for him.

"Yeah," Liam says like anyone would be stupid to choose otherwise.

"Do you want me to congratulate you?" Alex crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"Come on, aren't there some things you want to keep out of the product?"

"Yes, and as the last twenty-four hours has demonstrated, I don't get to have any of them."

 

***

 

Paul gets Alex's reply as he's walking down the hallway to the writers' room, and nearly fumbles his phone as he tries to juggle it, his bag, and the door.

He's done reading it by the time he gets to his desk and can't begin to think of a reply. Alex never does use very many words, but he is always devastatingly good at communicating himself.

Okay, he replies before shoving his phone back in his pocket. "Message received, darling," he mutters under his breath.

During lunch, Carly calls. Paul leaves his laptop open to where he's continuing to fail to fix a scene and walks out to the hallway.

"Does everyone know?" he asks. This information diffusion is even worse than when they'd first gotten together, and a lot less happy. Paul hopes that, at least, Alex hasn't seen that there are paparazzi pictures of him from LAX on the Internet. The Internet, because Paul is morbidly curious enough to have checked, is in fact having an absolute field day trying to figure out why Alex looks so miserable.

That the prevailing assumption is that he finally broke up with the jackass he'd been dating instead of, or in addition to, Liam is just a whole new level of horrible. And not just because they're not entirely wrong.

"Liam he told me. He's worried."

"Oh."

"Are you okay, Paul?"

"I just had someone walk out on me last night for the second time in basically a year."

"Oh, honey."

Paul makes it to the courtyard, where he sits down on a bench and presses the phone hard against the side of his head. "Yeah."

"Do you want to come over sometime this week? Not to talk if you don't want to. Just get you out of your space."

Paul thinks of his empty house and his own too-full mind. "Yeah. But I know you're judging me."

"Sure, but I'm luring you in with my compassion first."

Paul puts back his head and squints against the brightness of the sky. "Why do you put up with any of us?"

"You and Liam, you mean?"

"And so many more."

"Well, you two are my most special of special snowflakes," she says with a certain degree of weariness. Paul manages a smile anyway. "But this is what I do. I'm good at it, it's good for me, and you certainly need it."

"You're an angel. I'll call you later with a plan when I get my schedule here sorted."

 

***

 

That afternoon, Victor breezes into the office and surveys his hardworking minions with satisfaction. Then his eyes land on Paul.

"So, is everything set for New York?"

"Come with me," Paul shoves away from the desk and stalks out of the room.

Victor follows Paul into the kitchenette. "Oooo, drama," he drawls in the San Francisco gay that marks all their divides -- from generational to experiential -- in a way Paul finds particularly irksome in the moment.

"New York isn't happening," he says. "I fucked up, and you let me do it. Alex is crazy but he isn't wrong, and I am way too used to you pulling all the strings to think how I made your friendly advice sound. You are some sort of fucked up, Victor."

"I told you to be careful of him," Victor says mildly. "And it's your life too." he says.

"I'm aware of that," Paul says drily.

"Apparently not enough. And don't blame me for your apparently sloppy sentence construction." Victor says. He's watching Paul intently, apparently fascinated with how he's reacting. While Paul is used to this from Victor, in the context of everything it feels more unsettling than it has in a long time.

"It would be a lot easier to feel like I wasn't one of your creations if you didn't keep treating me like one."

"You've always been a character in my story, Paul. You just keep missing the point is all."

"Really, and what's that?"

"That no one cares about stories where no one ever says no and everyone always lives happily ever after."

 

***

 

It's a relief for Alex to go through hair and makeup and let himself sink into the strange headspace of not quite existing. Sometimes he hates it, but right now he appreciates not having to worry or do.

The sun sets earlier, and it's colder than he's gotten used to in L.A., especially with the wind off the tidal basin. It's just one more strange and surreal thing in his strange and surreal life to be here in D.C. for a job he never planned on having. He never even came here when he was growing up, although he saw photos from school trips other people from better towns posted on the Internet.

The Washington Monument is shorter than he'd thought it would be.

Alex tells Liam that, while Liam fidgets with yet another random app on his smartphone. Then he says, "Don't even," because he knows the next thing to come out of Liam's mouth is going to be a dick joke.

Liam is quiet for another moment, and then he puts his phone away. "You're freaking out."

Alex gives him a look, and tries not to see the people who are starting to cluster around the edge of the area they've got closed off for filming. All this day needs to make it better is fans. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. This isn't about the thing, is it?"

"It's not about the thing."

"You're a shit liar, Alex."

"It's not lying, it's acting," Alex says, a bit prissy and a lot smug.

"...Dude, that's fucked up."

"I am reminding myself," Alex says, and focuses not on Liam but on the lights on the water, and beyond that, the majestic columns and steps of the Jefferson rising above the skeletons of the cherry trees, "that I am a professional. And in thirty seconds I will be right with you, but currently, yes, I'm freaking out."

Liam actually checks his watch.

"Oh my god, seriously?"

"Shhhhhh, twenty-five seconds left, freak out wisely," Liam says, and it doesn't even sound like he's teasing so much as respecting the process.

"It's really not about the thing."

"Is it about you being here, doing this, and having no clue what your life is right now?"

"That, and in about fifteen minutes, I have to make out with you, on camera, which officially makes this the second weirdest day of my entire life."

"Hey, I only get second place?"

"The first-weirdest day was totally half your fault too."

"Whose fault was the other half?" Liam asks curiously.

Alex shrugs, because he's never told anyone about the run-in with Paul the morning his life exploded. Besides, it's easier to blame Victor.

Liam grins like Alex isn't being evasive and taps his watch. "Time's up. Let's go rock this."

 

***

 

Halfway through the night, Alex realizes that Liam didn't decide to come out to him at an incredibly inconvenient time because he suddenly felt the need to absolve himself. Yes, the burden created by the audience's preoccupation with the sex lives of Fourth's stars is significant.

But in the scene James has his hands in his pockets and is talking to Zach -- whom he calls Zachary -- quietly and very earnestly and a little shyly about truth and honesty in a way that, for once, has nothing to do with journalistic ethics or even the appalling lack of them.

"Everybody here's got a lie," he says. "I don't want to lie to you anymore."

Liam's giving a better performance, Alex thinks, as they reset the cameras for the sixth of what feels like twelve different angles on the damn kiss, because there's truth underlying it. He wanted Alex to know that and give more because of it too. It's weird, but it's also humbling, and Alex isn't sure if he has more to learn about life or acting in the face of it.

 

***

 

Back at the hotel, Liam walks with Alex from the elevator to his room.

"I'm, like, just around the corner there," he says once Alex manages to get his key out and his door open. Then he hugs him tightly.

"Liam, what the fuck--" Alex tries to keep his door open with the hand that still has the key in it but it's awkward with Liam affixed to him.

"Good job tonight," he says, muffled over Alex's shoulder.

Liam's sudden bursts of thoughtfulness and awareness of others are as surprising and unpredictable as his need to -- inconveniently, at the moment, Alex thinks drily -- physically express his affection for the whole word.

"...Thank you," Alex says tiredly, finally hugging Liam back. The door clicks closed again. "You too."

"There you go." Liam unwraps himself from Alex, and looks him in the eye intently for a moment before patting his cheek. "You're gonna be okay, man."

Alex has to bite his lip, because unexpected sympathy is even worse than unexpected hugs, and his eyes suddenly sting. "Okay."

"I'm just down the hall if you want to talk."

"Okay." He's amused more than otherwise, but still. "It has been a really long day. I'm gonna go sleep, and then you can bug me more in the morning, okay?"

"Cool!" Liam bounces away, and Alex rests his forehead against the door before he manages to get the key in the lock again.

It's been the longest day.

 

***

 

"So there's this thing you do, that I don't get," Paul says, kicking his socked feet against Carly's. They're in her bed -- Carly in pajamas and Paul in sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt that passes for the same -- with beer and a bag of ranch-flavored chips, half-heartedly watching Jaws.

"Yeah?"

"Why do I always have an awesome time with you when I'm miserable?"

"Because I am awesome, and most of the time we spend together has involved you being miserable, which is what happens when you date girls you shouldn't be dating," she says as she shoves another handful of chips into her mouth.

"I'm starting to think I maybe just shouldn't be dating."

"Ya think?" Carly asks.

"Thanks."

"Look, I'm just saying you didn't magically stop being crazy when you realized you liked dick the mostest."

Paul cackles because Carly is the most awful and awesome of all his friends. Even with her long, wavy hair up in a messy, lopsided ponytail and the hideous yellow and pink pajamas that completely clash with her olive skin, she looks amazing and slightly terrifying. He's very fond of her.

"So what's your call?" he asks. "Permanently broken or temporarily broken?"

"You and dating or you and Alex?"

"Me, mainly."

"Mmmmm, thoroughly broken."

"This door number three thing you do is really annoying, by the way."

"But it works. You, on the other hand, do not work. You fall in love with every good fuck that comes your way, and yet can't figure out that you're the common denominator enough to love yourself? As usual, my friend, you should be smarter than your bad crazy."

"And yet..."

"And yet. So what's the plan?"

"A vow of celibacy while I convince myself maybe he wasn't the one?"

"Wait, seriously?" she asks, sitting up and clicking pause on the shark.

Paul nods solemnly.

"Well, that's not good. Like, you can talk all you want about not fucking around, but you're too much like Liam. Just monogamous. You need someone in your bed like people need water."

"No kidding."

"Why haven't you gotten blindingly drunk yet?" Carly asks.

"You mean why didn't I bring over something better than beer?"

"Yeah, this is entirely about my need for gin." Carly rolls her eyes. "You're such an asshole, answer the question."

"Because every night when I get home, I think I'm going to see his car in the driveway, or I'm going to wake up to him climbing into bed."

"Because you're delusional or because you think he wants to fix it too?"

"That's the problem," Paul says as the pause timer expires and the shark action recommences. "I can't tell."

 

***

 

When he wakes up on day two, Alex feels like a human being. After all, the worst is over.

Zach and James kissed and the world didn't end. Alex, meanwhile, didn't combust from the horror of it or freeze at the feel of lips other than the ones he wanted and doesn't get to have anymore. And while more peculiar than expected, Liam was more decent about all of it than he could have been.

So while Alex doesn't feel in control of his world, he feels capable. The thought of going for a second day without disaster in a strange city is actually appealing. So is a proper breakfast and a foray to a bookstore. In a city with an actual winter, Alex thinks he might even be able to remain unseen.

It doesn't work. He left his beanie at Paul's -- is he wearing it? is it sitting in a box in front of Alex's trailer? -- and there are fans loitering outside of the hotel. It's amazing to him what people think counts as inconspicuous. He actually has to offer to sign something for a girl and chitchat with her friends in order to convince them not to follow him on his attempt to see something of the city outside of work, although the Margaret in his head is telling him not to negotiate with terrorists. He winds up purchasing a new hat, acrylic and ill fitting, from the first street vendor he sees.

When they get to the location that night -- driven again in a car shared with Liam because no one trusts them to get to set in a city they don't know -- Liam spends as much time as he can on the edge of the shoot area, signing things for fans and smiling and waving into smart phones, while reminding everyone there will be no kissing on set tonight.

Of course, the fans have never believed Liam on this sort of point, simply because they have never wanted to. They suddenly look a hell of a lot smarter for their skepticism, and Liam's repeated demurrals only seem to summon more of them.

Alex considers joining Liam just to see if his own lack of overwhelming enthusiasm will drive the spectators off, but he decides to huddle by a heat lamp at crafty with some of the hair and makeup crew instead.

 

***

 

"Hey, you want to get a drink after?" Liam asks, checking his watch when they call the last shot of the night.

"Everything's closed," Alex points out.

"I know a place."

Alex squints at him. There's a halfway decent chance Liam actually does know a place, but while he may be legal now, drinking at some illegal after-hours bar doesn't seem like the best plan in the don't fuck up in public sweepstakes.

"Is this place your hotel room?" Alex asks hopefully. Somehow, it is the lesser of two evils, and his life is damn surreal for having come to this.

"Dude. Minibar!"

 

***

 

"Minibar?" Alex says when they walk in, because the full-sized bottle of scotch on the dresser renders that something of an understatement.

Liam immediately snags the glass tumblers the hotel set next to a complimentary bottle of ridiculous mineral water. "Compared to the bar at home, yeah."

Alex has been to Liam's house many times – almost exclusively for work-related parties – and considering he has a whole room full of manly leather furniture, books Alex is sure he doesn't read, and one hell of a bar set up, he can see his point.

They wind up lying on the bed, side-by-side, and shoes still on. While Liam seems mesmerized with the rapidly dwindling contents of his glass, Alex balances his on his chest and stares at the ceiling while he talks about Paul -- not what happened, but what it was.

"Anyone could see that," Liam says at one point, when Alex finally says the L-word.

"I didn't know that's what it felt like," Alex says.

"Like what?"

"Abject terror."

Liam laughs, and Alex swats at him, knocking scotch all over them both. Alex curses and bolts upright to try to deal with it, but Liam puts out a hand for him to just stay put.

"It's a hotel, so it'll get dealt with when we call for them to deal with it. It's also alcohol, so it will evaporate quickly, and neither of us is wearing anything nice enough to care about."

"This is not a life I'm used to," Alex says distantly, because Liam is peculiar and because other people at his service is still kind of a philosophical problem for him.

"Well, go bring us the bottle then. You'll feel better."

"Now I know why Carly refuses to live with you," Alex mutters as he fetches the bottle and restores their drinks.

"You ever let Paul see your place?"

"No."

"Then don't judge my housekeeping in a hotel when I'm trying to get drunk."

"Sometimes I can't figure out if you're the happiest guy I know or the saddest," Alex says as he arranges himself cross-legged on the bed.

"Yes," Liam says, clinking glasses with him. "You think you're the only one who finds this life lonely regardless of who you're in it with?"

"Yes?"

"No. We're a species made to do this to people, not to have it done to us. No one will ever understand what it's like to be you. If you can remember that, you'll be less pissed all the time and less of a shit to the people you date."

"Er, thanks?"

"No problem."

"Sometimes I hate you."

"I know. Is that getting better or worse in the last forty-eight hours?"

Alex laughs and drains his glass. "I'll let you know."

 

***

 

It's strange to Alex that Liam should feel suddenly so much more like a peer. They've always been acutely different and that, combined with the age difference, has largely made it seem like Liam is cool and Alex just isn't. But Liam is a hot mess of complex secrets that Victor is somehow forcing him to confess on TV, and that's just strange and a little bit ugly. Alex realizes he can feel victimized and exposed by his fame all he wants, but his life may always be more his own than Liam's ever will by the simple virtues of being out and not wanting to sell every single secret he has.

"I've misjudged you," Alex says.

"Yeah?"

"It's not a compliment."

Liam chortles. "I like you."

They're lying down again, because scotch and king sized bed and four in the morning will do that to anyone.

Alex turns his head in what feels like movie magic slow motion to see Liam's blue eyes blinking back at him. He's not surprised at all, because Alex knows stories. Even if he's crap at predicting how they end, in the last year he's gotten very good at understanding how they begin.

"Yeah?" he asks, because Liam is staring at him and the whole thing feels loaded and odd.

And that's when Liam kisses him.

It's easy. Liam doesn't kiss like James and it doesn't seem like a really terrible idea.

"This is a really terrible idea," Liam says against his lips.

Alex laughs into Liam's mouth and has one terrible moment where he remembers the wine in Paul's.

"You don't give a remote shit, do you?" Liam asks.

Alex shakes his head, sits up, and toes off his shoes. "Now you get to prove to me you're not a liar."

"You don't actually think that," Liam says.

"I don't. But you would if it were useful," he says as he pulls his T-shirt up over his head.

"Christ, you're direct."

Alex shrugs. "Someone has to be." As with Paul, now that Alex knows he can have this, he wants to take it. And at least with Liam he knows where he stands.

"Fine," Liam says. He sits up, sets his glass down decisively on the night table, and grins wickedly. "I let you fuck me and we consider the matter of my truthfulness closed."

"I think it's already closed," Alex says, wrinkling his face up at Liam's ridiculousness.

"Okay," Liam says, and it's exasperated. "Just fuck me? Because I want you to and I'm drunk, very cute, only slightly pathetic, and asking nicely."

Alex cackles and then runs a nervous hand through his hair. Liam takes a second to stare at him, until the realization kicks in.

"What? You don't top?"

"Think harder," Alex says, and it's defensive as much as he tries to squash the impulse.

"Oh shit, you've never done this before," he says, scrambling to his knees, and reaching for Alex. "We are gonna have so much fun!"

They get naked fast, mainly because Alex is already halfway there, and because, of the many things Liam is, a tease apparently is not one of them.

Making out with him is hot and messy and fun, and Alex figures out a bunch of small and specific things that get him going fast. It's good for Alex's ego, knowing to breathe just so against Liam's ear or to tell him how very good he is. It's even better for his confidence, though, to not only have control, but to know what to do with it.

"God, fuck, I love that you take up so much more space than me," Liam says, because Alex may not be broader, but he certainly is taller. Alex pins him to the bed and bites at his neck hard.

"Twink my ass," Alex murmurs, and Liam cracks up and slaps his in response.

Alex's laugh cuts off in a gasp.

"Oh really," Liam says.

"Apparently," Alex shrugs, and then returns to biting across Liam's throat and shoulders and chest.

"You just tell me when you want to add that to the to-do list."

Alex grins and bites harder.

He doesn't realize how glad he is that the whole thing is drunk and hilarious and chatty, until they have to pause for Liam to dig condoms and lube out of his bag, at which point Alex goes back to nervously running his hands through his hair again.

Alex doesn't think of himself as a virgin, didn't even before Paul, and yet here he is in this absurd situation with TV star Liam Campbell's rather stunning ass staring him more or less in the face. His brain insists that this is a momentous occasion, and as dumb as that is, Alex is fairly sure it's not the wrongest thought he's ever had.

Liam shrugs at him and tosses the supplies on the bed. "It's just sex. And a little bit of technology. Relax," he says with a kiss so easy and intimate it takes Alex aback.

It's nothing, however, compared to Liam taking his hand and showing Alex how to finger him. It's weird, and a little stupid, and they both giggle through it until Liam goes breathless. Alex can't remember the last time he's felt as glad to be as young as he is. The sounds Liam makes as Alex pushes one of his legs back so he can get deeper make his dick twitch.

"God, I could spend hours just sucking at your thighs," he murmurs into skin.

"No one's stopping you."

Liam helps him with the condom. Alex isn't sure if that's sexy or not, but it's a great distraction now that his brain has started up with the momentous occasion nonsense again.

"You're going to stop thinking the second you're inside me," Liam says. "And then I'm going to give you too much direction, and you'll get pissed off and pound me into the mattress. Trust me, it's gonna be great."

Liam isn't wrong, despite leaving out the part where he's insanely tight and the slow push into him is some of the most exquisite torture Alex has ever experienced. Liam's on his knees, ass in the air, shoulders down on the bed and hands folded under his face as it happens. At first, it's too much for Alex to look at him as he sinks inside, but then it's too much not to.

When Liam starts sucking on his own fingers, Alex swears and pulls them away, replacing them with his own. "You just need all the dick, don't you?"

Liam nods frantically and Alex huffs out something of a laugh as he starts pistoning his hips in earnest. Whatever this is about -- and Alex can't think enough to even try to figure it out right now -- it's no longer about who they are when they're wearing clothes or making words. Because while there's nothing at all surprising about Liam being needy and vulnerable in just this way, Alex knows the signs of secrets by now, and they make his heart go tender.

Liam comes first, frantically pumping his own cock and still sucking on Alex's fingers. Despite the relief Alex sees roll through him, Liam barely pauses in fucking back hard onto Alex's cock, spitting out his fingers and urging him on, a litany of come on, come on, come on.

Alex cuffs him lightly on the back of the head and then digs his wet fingers into his hair. "Impatient asshole," he grits out, just before he spills into the condom.

 

***

 

"So what did you think? Awesome?" Liam asks later as he takes the lead in getting them cleaned up.

Alex is grateful, and relaxed, and still turning the whole thing over in his brain. But mostly, what he knows is that he's content, and that Liam isn't fishing for compliments. He just wants to know he's done the right thing in showing someone something new.

"Awesome," he says, closing his eyes and letting himself drift just a little.

"Good," Liam says softly.

"So, I fuck you, and you cuddle me," Alex murmurs sleepily as Liam climbs back into bed and drapes an arm, a leg, and half his body on top of him. "Is that how this works?"

He's making fun, but Alex is also relieved for Liam's warm weight over him. Putting words together coherently is still taking some effort, and if he isn't as broken as he was the first time Paul took him apart and then had to hold him until he put himself back together, he's still a little fractured. It just seems to be happening in slow motion this time.

"Alex," Liam says, aggrieved. Alex pushes some of Liam's curls out of his own face when Liam turns his head up to look at him. "Cuddling is the best part of fucking."

"Oh, is it now?"

"Mhmmmm." Liam works a hand under Alex's side to wrap himself around him entirely. "Oh, god, don't tell me this this is new too."

"No. Oh my god, would you stop wiggling? No. I just, I don't know," Alex says, not able to articulate the warring feelings of comfort and claustrophobia for Liam any better than he could for Paul.

"Should I move? I can move. I'm not a dick. Not like that, anyway."

"Hey. What kind of teacher are you? Don't give up on me that easy." Alex grins at him. It's an effort, but it's not an unpleasant one.

Liam smiles back and wriggles closer. "So that means you're staying the night, right?"

"Presumptuous." Alex raises an eyebrow at him.

"Dude, that ship sailed like, an hour ago."

"Someone's going to notice."

"Naw. Do you have any idea how many guys I've passed out drunk with before?"

"That's encouraging."

"No one's gonna notice. Or care. Like, I can check the hall for you if you want, but it's five in the morning and your room is a long way away."

"Not that far," Alex protests, even though he doesn't really want to leave anyway. He's becoming more present in his head, Liam feels good stretched over him, and with this to focus on, the terrible of Sunday is fading even further away.

Liam hums, and Alex doesn't say anything else but also doesn't make a move to get up. Eventually, Liam says, "It's okay if you don't want to sleep alone."

"I know."

"That's new too, isn't it?"

"Be quiet and go to sleep." Alex is running out of energy to keep the conversation going. The sound of Liam breathing is soothing, his body warm and lulling, and almost all he wants right now is to fall asleep.

"Okay." Liam helps get the covers up over both of them, and then wraps himself around Alex once again. "Sweet dreams."

"You, too."

 

***

 

When they wake up, early in the afternoon, Alex does make Liam check the hall for him before he darts back to his room to turn into a human being who should be having regrets. But it was fun, and it was interesting, and Liam does apparently know when to shut up.

His positive attitude about it lasts little more than an hour, because something about Liam reading The Wall Street Journal over what probably, since they're shooting nights, counts as breakfast, makes him want to punch people.

"Is that an affectation or is that for real?" Alex asks as he sits down at Liam’s table in the hotel restaurant without invitation.

Liam shrugs. "I like to pretend I know what's going on with my investments," he says, not looking up from the newsprint as he sips his coffee. "Want the Post?"

Alex rolls his eyes but happily snags the paper. There's something about working on a show about fake news that has made him a bit compulsive about keeping up with real news. It's hard to read, however, when Liam keeps kicking his chair.

Then the fish heads make everything worse.

"What the fuck is that?" Alex asks when Liam's food arrives.

"Japanese breakfast."

"There are fish heads."

"Yes. They come with the fish."

"Do you know how often you make me wonder if I'm hallucinating?"

"Under recent circumstances that sounds suspiciously like a compliment," Liam says, still focused on his paper. It may be The Wall Street Journal, but Alex can see that Liam is reading the style section.

"Why did you order that?"

"Because it's good and I haven't been to Japan since before the show started, and because I like it."

Alex rocks back a little at that, because Liam clearly isn't being a dick; Alex is. "What's Japan like?" he asks. "And why did you go?"

Liam lowers the paper almost suspiciously. But then, as the waitress comes to take Alex's order, he starts to tell him.

At the end of a long story about the appalling street numbering system in Tokyo, a porn shop, and elegant gothic Lolita fashion trends, Liam says, "So I just figured out a thing about you."

"What's that?"

"You're Eve."

"Pardon?" Alex is too sure he's heard wrong to even begin find his way to pissed.

"Way more interested in knowledge than consequences," Liam says, toying with his unused forks. "And way more intentional about it than everyone thinks."

Alex finishes his hash browns, scraping his own fork across his plate with a horrific sound. Liam isn't really wrong, and the astuteness of the observation makes Alex feel like he's been seen. The oddness just makes him fond.

He mumbles, "We can be friends now."

Liam barks with laughter. "Finally! Victory is mine."

Alex smirks. "Don't get overexcited. You still just called me a chick and my memory is long."

"And that ain't all," Liam says, sliding one of the forks into his pocket.

Alex wants to ask what the fuck he's doing with it -- it's better than acknowledging the dick innuendo -- but decides against it, since the answer will probably make sense to Liam and absolutely no one else.

 

***

 

Paul goes for a run before work. The sun is just coming up; the streets are quiet; and it's almost peaceful.

He wishes he at least had Beau to run with, and wonders if it's worth thinking about getting another dog. But Todd is territorial and doesn't need the attention a dog would, so maybe it's best things just stay as they are.

On the corner, he gets flagged down by one of his neighbors, a grandfatherly man named Tom. Paul stops to say hello; Tom is the opposite of the Los Angeles experience in every way and has always been amusing to interact with. Certainly, as far as Paul knows, Tom doesn't talk to any of his other neighbors for a purpose other than to complain.

They exchange pleasantries in a way that's reflex, but Paul also now recognizes as a struggle. The human impulse to tell the truth when asked how he’s doing is something clearly not entirely trained out of either of them.

"I've been worse," Paul says when it's his turn, and he makes himself grin, even though the fact that he's even out here indicates he's also been much, much better. Staying fit is one thing, but the pace and distances he's pushing himself for aren't healthy and he knows it. But then, that's the point.

"That's good, that's good. Got plans for the holiday?"

Paul's lost track of so much time in the last few months that, even with Thanksgiving being days ago, it's weird to think that Christmas is just weeks away. "Yeah. Going back home for a week. Are your kids coming out this year?"

"Yep," Tom nods. "The grandkids too. It'll be a whole swarm. If I don't see you before, be sure to have a good holiday."

Paul grins again, and picks his earbuds up again. "You too. Say hi to your wife for me."

"Will do, son. Enjoy your run."

Paul still needs to cancel all his reservations regarding New York.

 

***

 

For Zach, everything is falling apart. Alex can relate uncomfortably well to his character's sense of loss even if the subject is different. More frighteningly, Alex can also relate to Zach's terrible sense of victory as he lays out to James plans he knows he shouldn't be so eager to make.

"I'm going to Iran," Zach says.

James looks horrified. When he asks "Why?" it's with an intensity that either comes from his field experience or the personal investment James has come to have in Zach. Zach gets his concern, but doesn't back down, explaining as best as he can why this is exactly what he needs to be doing. The situation and Zach's language skills James knows. Zach's passion to do right with them in a sea of the cynical and selfish, James is hearing, on some level for the first time.

It's a moment of discovery that's thrilling and bittersweet for both Alex and Liam to play.

They're filming in front of the Capitol, and Liam's sitting on the curb of the Reflecting Pool while Alex stands so their eye lines can be all mismatched.

"My ass is freezing," Liam complains in between takes.

Alex raises his eyebrows at him. When Liam grins, Alex snorts, because Liam is totally fishing, and Alex has absolutely no desire to go there while other people are around.

It's a good break from being in Zach's headspace, though, because Zach is anxious and actually afraid of James's reaction, whether it be anger or an attempt to stop him.

What Liam-as-James does eventually say, over and over again as they line up all the shots is, "It's my job to tell you not to. But what do you need?"

It feels like a reminder of how promises can be terrible things.

 

***

 

By the time they wrap for the night they're both eager to get back inside a warm building. At the hotel, they cross the lobby together, chattering and exchanging glances without touching, and Alex feels eager and relieved.

Once the elevator doors close behind them, Alex crowds Liam into the corner.

"God, I can't wait to get you upstairs."

Liam stops him before the inevitable kiss, although barely.

"Hey, careful," he points up at the ceiling. "Security cams."

Alex blanches and reels back.

"Hey, hey, hey," Liam laughs, and doesn't let him pull completely away. "They don't have sound."

"Oh," Alex says.

Liam laughs again. "Seriously. How are you so paranoid and yet so bad at this?"

"It's new," Alex snaps.

"Mm, yes," Liam hums. "Let's go make it less new."

 

***

 

"Three things," Liam says when Alex follows him into his hotel room.

"Yeah?"

"One, it's your job to tell me what you want. I don't want to assume or not assume when that's me, and I don't want you to assume or not assume that I always say yes, even though I mostly say yes."

"Text messaging is the better part of valor?" Alex teases.

"Something like that. Two, you bit the shit outta my neck."

"You loved it," Alex breathes, pushing into Liam's space a little, even as his hands on his hips are holding him just slightly at bay.

"I did, and I have a terrible reputation, so no one is ever going to think twice as to how such a thing might have happened. But you should still be aware."

"Yeah, okay," Alex nods. "What's the third thing?"

"Is there anything you don't want to do with me?"

"That sounds an awful lot like thing one."

Liam shrugs. "Sure, but it still stands."

 

***

 

Later, when Alex is on his back and biting at the heel of his hand to muffle the sound because Liam has two fingers pressed up inside of him, he finally understands what Liam had meant earlier.

He comes like that, Liam's mouth on his cock.

After, Liam asks him questions, too many really, because Alex's brain is not online. But they're all yes or no, one or the other questions. Eventually, Alex manages to convey that yes it was good, that he's a little bit cold, and that he would really like a glass of water.

While Liam is fidgeting, probably in vain, with the room's thermostat, he explains that while Alex totally doesn't need to be able to articulate what's going on in the moment for him during sex -- because sure two data points is not a trend, but Liam is getting the picture -- he really should learn how to identify and articulate it after the fact.

"So I, or anyone, can know what you need," he says. "And you're totally not weird, that's a great place you get off to. I do it too sometimes and I love it, it's pretty much the only time my head ever feels quiet."

Alex smiles and doesn't even make a joke about how Liam so rarely shuts up; after what they've done together Alex believes him, and is fond.

"And it's totally cool you just like to hang out," Liam goes on, making a gesture that, Alex assumes, is meant to encompass the way Alex is still stretched out on the bed. "I just kinda need to do stuff for people or cuddlewhore after is all."

Alex snorts with quiet laughter. He has no idea what they are doing.

 

***

 

When Victor's cell phone rings, he's not surprised it's Liam, although he is surprised by the hour. With the D.C. team shooting nights, he's not actually sure now when or if Liam is sleeping.

"Okay, so, I know you're gonna yell," Liam says the second Victor picks up. "But if I don't tell you you're gonna hear it somewhere else, like from Alex or when I'm drunk, and it's going to be a lot worse for me if you do."

"An auspicious start," Victor drawls. "What did you do, and why is Alex involved?"

"See, okay, I hooked up with him."

Victor squints, because he can't cow Liam into being less of an idiot with a glare like he could if Liam were there in person.

"Hooked up with who," he coaxes, for clarification, and it's more than a little menacing. At least he gets to stare at a wall of Emmys while he's having this conversation.

"With Alex," Liam repeats.

"You did what?"

"Alex and me."

"You did what?"

"Dude! We didn't fuck on the National Mall. This isn't, like, stupid--"

"YES IT IS STUPID! Jesus Christ, Liam, what kind of a fucking idiot are you?"

"Why is it stupid?" Liam says, his voice distant in a way that makes it clear he's pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Other than the fact that you felt the need to call and confess to me, which probably ranks it pretty high on the list of totally idiotic things you have done?"

"Well, yeah."

"Does Carly know?" Victor asks, because he knows the nature of their arrangements, and if Liam is calling him, he wants to make damn sure he hasn't fucked up with someone even more important.

"Victor, seriously," Liam sounds subdued and not actually defensive, which means that this is actually for real and that, according to Liam's understanding of his contract with life, he's actually done everything right. Heaven help everyone. "You're pissed. Which, you know, not surprised. But I probably deserve to know exactly why."

"Is this going to happen again?"

"Yes. That's why I called."

"And Alex is okay?"

"Alex is fine, Victor." Liam's patience, on the rare occasions he chooses to be patient, is maddening. "Why is it dumb?"

"Alex is in D.C. right now, with you, and headed to New York next week -- even if that's not one of my projects -- because I pulled him out from behind a clipboard and dropped him in front of the camera."

"Yeah?"

"None of what I've done to him is anything he wanted for himself."

"Nooo," Liam says. "He's doing pretty okay, though."

"And he just ended a very promising relationship with Paul -- who, for reasons passing my understanding, is still writing for me -- because the three of us were making decisions about his life. According to Paul according to Alex, at least."

"Yeah, I got that lecture, too. He's not totally wrong, you know."

Victor breezes past that one; he'd already told Paul everything he needed to about that, and it has nothing to do with Liam now. "And now you've just hooked up with him, and it's not that I don't trust you, and at least you're only five years older than him--"

"It's just that you don't trust me," Liam teases.

"No," Victor says. "It's that the fairytale comes with costs, and I don't want this, of all things, to be one of them."

"Oh my god, Victor, you're worried about us." Despite everything, Victor has to smile at the glee in Liam's voice.

"I was not built to deal with you mere mortals."

Liam's laugh is oddly delighted. "Careful, someone might figure out that you're human after all."

"Perish the thought."

"Alex is gonna be okay, you know."

"Alex will always be okay," Victor says firmly. "I made sure of it."

"Then why are you worried?"

"Because my favorite people are the ones who surprise me, and I adore you all."

 

***

 

Driving to brunch on Sunday without Alex in the car next to him is lonely, but Paul's been stuck in the house all weekend working and if he doesn't get out and interact with actual human beings he fears for the future integrity of his soul.

He actually misses Alex's shitty country pop music.

At the restaurant, there's another seat reshuffle, and he winds up with Craig and Beau on one side and Shawna -- who spends the meal kicking Brian under the table whenever he starts to opine on something snarky and not at all amusing -- on the other.

"Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?" Craig asks him as the meal is winding down.

"Nothing scheduled. Why?" Paul asks, because moping over my latest ex isn't an appropriate answer when it's the second-to-last ex asking.

"Beau and I have a date at the park with a Frisbee. If you want to get out of the house, we'd love to have you."

Whether Craig is hitting on Paul or taking pity on him, it's still a more appealing idea than going back home alone.

"Sure."

 

***

 

It's not the same park Paul and Craig used to go to when it was them driving to brunch together before spending the afternoon hiking somewhere or other, but there's plenty of sun and green space, and Beau is ecstatic to run after the Frisbee as many times as they want to throw it.

It's easy, and it's familiar, and it's even fun. By the time they wind up sitting side-by-side on the bench of a picnic table, getting caught up on work and families and gossiping about their friends while Beau gnaws a stick he'd decided to fetch back instead of the Frisbee on his last run, it doesn't seem like a bad idea.

They get tacos for dinner without anyone having to worry about getting spotted by overenthusiastic fans. Paul is the one who suggests going back and watching a movie together, and they end up at Craig's apartment.

They definitely don't finish the movie.

They make out and then jerk each other off on the couch without even bothering to pause it. Paul feels vaguely guilty that his self-imposed celibacy lasted only exactly as long as he had avoided temptation, but it feels too good to lose himself in a familiar body and hands that know him.

It's awful, it's not fair to anyone, and Craig isn't built like Alex, but if Paul closes his eyes, he can almost fool himself into thinking he feels like him.

After, they curl up together on the couch. Craig's apartment is smaller than Paul's house, but the leather couch and the modernist art hanging above the TV feels so much more like L.A. success.

"Want to stay the night?" Craig asks.

Paul does at least pull himself together enough to say "No. Not this time, at least," because there's dumb and then there's just moronic.

"Well. You know where to find me," Craig says, and grins at him.

Alone at home, even with Todd curled up at the foot of the bed and snoring softly and adorably, Paul wishes he'd stayed anyway.

 

***

 

Paul and Craig’s first dinner plans get scuttled when Paul gets caught at work. He's rejiggering Renee's plot for the third time, because, as the producer of the news network Fourth is about, she's going to have to deal with the actions of the people -- Zach among them -- who are making dubious choices in part because of the opportunities she has provided them, wittingly or not. It's a lot more about guilt and self-awareness than any sort of sexiness about schemers and liars, which is new and something Paul's wanted to do forever, and Owen, the writer who usually does this, has great ideas but sucks at execution under pressure. Paul has no idea why someone who hates the fast-paced high-stakes nature of the TV game would choose to be in this business in the first place.

He texts Craig from the parking lot to meet him at the house.

This time, they skip the pretense of the movie and go straight to bed.

 

***

 

Paul wakes up in the morning in his bedroom with Craig asleep next to him, Todd blinking at him from the chair, and Beau curled up in the corner that had always been his. It's exactly the way things had been for years.

It's as if Alex never existed, and the whole thing was just been a particularly elaborate dream.

It should be an idle thought, but once it's there Paul can't get rid of it. It scares the absolute shit out of him.

Carly, when he calls her about it later that day, is absolutely unsympathetic.

"You are adding tragedy to tragedy," she says bluntly. "Seriously, Craig?"

"Would you prefer someone random?"

"I would prefer you to get your head out of your ass and not make this so much worse for everyone involved. You're not the only one breaking over this."

"How do you even know that?"

"Liam," Carly says simply.

"What's Liam doing?"

"If you want information about a relationship between two adults you are going to have to talk to either of them yourself because that is not my story to tell."

"But Liam's telling you," Paul says snidely.

"Liam is my partner," Carly says pointedly. "And you, meanwhile, need to stop fucking settling."

"Well, I can't have what I want, can I?"

"You can have a lot more than you're getting. And I don't just mean in terms of fucks."