Sam ducked just in time to avoid a swinging punch to the shoulder, as he saw it heading towards him in the changing room mirror.
The would-be assailant, who just so happened to be one of his closest friends, lowered his fist with a frown. 'What's up with you?' Rob complained, looking bitterly disappointed at the lack of skin-to-skin satisfaction even as he swung his gym bag onto the bench and kicked off his threadbare runners.
'I still have the marks from last week,' Sam replied, stripping off his shirt and bending his shoulder blade towards his friend by way of proof, before tugging on his new dobok jacket, bright white with black edging around the collar, still crisp with starch.
Rob whistled. 'Mate, you bruise like a peach,' he said. 'Ever think maybe you picked the wrong sport?'
Sam simply smirked at him and slung his embroidered belt around his waist, tying it in two easy, practised movements.
Standing with his heels touching the wall and his legs flush to it right to the tops of his thighs, Sam straightened his back and bent slowly forward in a perfect arc, until he was practically folded in half with his palms on the floor in front of his toes. Something in his spine clicked satisfyingly. Around him, people were filing into the dojang, bare feet audible on the rubber jigsaw mats, exchanging hugs and high-fives. Some had been on holidays and were now attending their first class back for the year. Many, including Sam and Rob, had just graduated from the colour belt classes to the black belt class. There was the family sense of new-term excitement and renewed vigour in the air.
'Hey guys!' A familiar, excitable girl's voice came from somewhere above him. Sam recognised Maddie, another new black belt, without even looking up. From his bent position he could see her daintily painted toes peeking out from the hem of her white uniform pants. 'Uuugh, Sam, how do you even do that?' she winced.
'Sam has his knees in his mouth and can't answer right now.' That was Rob's mannish, slightly posh-Aussie accent, a lilting suggestion of flirtation. There was a soft, wet sound; a peck on the cheek. Sam, unseen, rolled his eyes, though secretly he envied the subtle ease with which his friend conveyed interest. Rob was good with women because he didn't attempt to treat them as a separate species. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was an attitude that got results, although with Maddie, Sam could have told him he was pushing his luck.
'Who's that?' Maddie asked suddenly.
'Who?' Rob shifted beside Sam, looking around. 'Oh,' he said with some interest, 'Must be the new instructor Nadine was on about.'
'Please tell me you're joking,' Maddie said in a slightly choked voice.
Curious despite himself, Sam unfolded just in time to see Nadine, the Head Instructor, leading an unfamiliar face towards them. 'And these,' she was saying cheerfully as they approached, 'Are some of our newest black belts: Maddie, Rob, and Sam.'
The new face regarded them seriously, dark eyes flickering from one to the next. Sam wondered what Maddie's objection was: certainly it could not be immediate dislike . It was a strong-jawed, Caucasian face, thin-lipped, broad-nosed, a wide forehead below a dark buzzcut. The man himself was much taller than Sam, though this was not hard to achieve, and the chest and arms were noticeably muscular even through the thick canvas fabric of his dobok. If there was anything unattractive about him, it was the lack of expression on his face; it could be called mild interest at best.
The stranger held out his right hand, resting it lightly on the wrist of his other hand, and bowed slightly in the traditional fashion. As Sam reached out to take the offered hand and bow in return, the man spoke in a soft but clear, deep voice. 'Ahn young ha sim nee kah.'
Sam blinked, nonplussed. Beside him he could feel Rob stiffening, either with offense or amusement, it was hard to tell. Even Nadine's eyes had gone slightly wide. Sam felt the reflected embarrassment hit him like a breaking wave. Did this guy just greet me in Korean?
After a moment's awkward silence, the newcomer let go Sam's hand. 'Xander,' he said by way of introduction.
'Sam,' Sam said in relief, and then remembered that Nadine had already introduced him, and felt his face heat up quickly. 'I don't speak Korean,' he added, into the burning silence. 'I'm Australian. And my family's actually from Laos.'
Surprisingly, Xander showed no sign of embarrassment. He didn't even break eye contact. He simply nodded, not taking his eyes off Sam's face. Sam wondered if he was supposed to say something else. Luckily however, the question became a moot point; Nadine whisked Xander away to introduce him to the other class members.
'Oh my god,' Maddie whispered, choking with suppressed laughter.
'It's not funny,' Rob muttered. 'What a racist dickbag.' Sam felt still more heat rise in his cheeks.
'Maybe he's just being… traditional,' Maddie said, getting a hold of herself.
'Yeah right,' Sam muttered. 'Let's wait and see if he tries the "traditional" greeting on everyone, shall we?'
Having apparently learned his lesson, Xander did not attempt to speak Korean with any other of the adult black belts, not even with the handful of other Asians in the group. Sam liked to think himself immune from accidental racism - he encountered it often enough - and would have forgotten the whole thing if it weren't for the fact that, for the rest of the class, the instructor totally ignored his existence.
He might not even have noticed it, except that the big man, who was fond of wandering the room during drills and correcting form, manoeuvring hands and feet into the correct positions and demonstrating improved technique, walked right past Sam and Rob multiple times as though they were not even there. He seemed to have an eye for detail when it came to all the other pairs, but when Sam experimentally made a couple of mistakes to see if it would attract attention, it seemed to make no difference.
By the end of the class, he was fuming.
'I don't like that guy,' he muttered, once the three new black belts had left the dojang and were out of earshot.
'But he's so pretty,' Maddie pouted.
'Only you would say that to describe a guy who looks like a tank,' Rob countered, an edge of sulkiness to his voice that Sam suspected to stem from Maddie's interest rather than any lingering annoyance at Xander's earlier behaviour.
Sam's dislike of the new instructor only solidified as classes continued. The next few weeks were the same as the first, with Xander ignoring Sam entirely whenever he was leading the group. Then one night out of nowhere, during pattern practice, he felt a large hand adjusting his blocking arm. No words were spoken, that was all - a silent acknowledgement. If Sam had thought that things would improve from that point, however, he was wrong. Instead, the problem became annoyingly reversed. Each class it seemed that Xander noticed more and more little errors in Sam's form that had to be corrected, so that he seemed to be constantly hovering, ready to either make suggestions in his low, emotionless voice, or physically move Sam's limbs into the preferred positions with his hands.
It was true that Sam was new to the black belt classes, having only just graded up the term before, but he was sure his form wasn't as bad as Xander made it out to be. If he lacked anything, it was power, but certainly not speed or accuracy. He was the most flexible young man in the class, even more than most of the women, and his kicks were beautifully high and well-placed, or so he had been told by his other teachers and classmates. He'd risen easily through the colour belts in two and a half years, and trained hard to earn the black while constantly being told he was a natural in Taekwondo. All this criticism now, especially when it came so specifically to him and so regularly, felt like a slap in the face.
Sam could not deny that Xander knew what he was talking about. His demonstrations were breathtaking, every kick, every jump, every movement was perfect, and, except when he was moving slowly for demonstration purposes, he was remarkably quick for someone of his stocky build. He didn't perform to show off, either; he never did more than was required for the purposes of instruction. In that respect, he was a very good instructor, even if he brooked no chatting or messing about while he was teaching. But as the end of the term grew nearer, it got to the point where Sam tried to find positions on the mat as far away from him as possible, so that he could get on with his training without being interrupted every five seconds for yet another adjustment.
'You'd think there was no one else in the class,' he complained to Rob in the men's changing room at the end of one particularly gruelling session, aggressively shoving his sweaty clothes into his gym bag. He preferred to go straight home these days and shower there, instead of hanging about to chat. He had been quite social during his colour belt training; now he dreaded running into Xander outside of training hours.
Rob, who had become just as annoyed as his partner was at the regular interruptions to their training, nodded as he followed him out the door. 'I'm telling you, it's the Asian thing,' he insisted.
Sam made a face at that. 'I don't think it is,' he said, although privately he almost wished it was. At least then there'd be some kind of reason for it. A shitty reason, but still. 'He doesn't pick on any of the others.'
'They're all girls,' Rob pointed out, referring to the one Chinese and two Malaysian black belts in the class. 'Probably he thinks he'll get complaints if he harasses them.'
'I can't complain,' Sam sighed. 'What would I say - oh, he's teaching me too much? See how well that goes down.'
Despite the three nights a week he spent suffering under the yoke of an unfair master, the term passed astonishingly quickly. Nearing the end of his third year of uni, he was concentrating more on his studies than his training anyway, after all the work he'd done last year to reach black belt level. It was strange not to have a grading at the end of the term, either, since it took much longer to grade for dan black belt levels than the geup colour belt levels. Instead, Maddie suggested the three of them go out for a drink after the second-to-last class of term before Christmas.
'I can't stay too long,' Sam said as they found a table. It was a busy city club and bar, the kind to make a country boy a little nervous. 'I have exams on Monday.'
'Oh come on Sammy,' Maddie said, rolling her eyes. 'You look like you could do with a little fun, just saying.'
Sam frowned at her. Not only did he not understand what she meant by that comment, but he disliked "Sammy" immensely. He was distracted almost immediately, however, by Rob's stifled groan. 'What is he doing here?' he heard his friend muttering.
'Oh, I invited him.' Maddie looked smug, even as Sam turned his head to see what they were talking about.
'You what?' Rob hissed. 'And he said yes??'
'Well, not at first,' she admitted, 'But then I told him you guys were coming too, and he seemed okay with it. I still wasn't sure he'd show.'
Sam had to wonder in that moment why he himself had agreed to come. The man walking towards them through the growing crowd was none other than his Taekwondo Instructor. The idea of spending a social evening with Xander made him want to fake a sudden and possibly mortal illness in order to make good his escape before things could get any more awkward.
'Xander, hey!' Maddie exclaimed, giving him a hug as he reached their table. Sam's eyes widened at her daring, but the big man did not protest, merely returned the gesture by patting her lightly on the shoulder. He did not smile, but Sam wasn't surprised. He didn't think he'd ever seen the man smile. 'So happy you came!'
'I hope I'm not intruding.' The gruff voice sent a shiver down Sam's spine - he flashed back internally to all the times he'd heard it suddenly in his ear, usually saying things like your balance is off, make sure you sight the target. Even though he knew it was coming, it still made him jump. For such a big man, Xander could move like a cat.
'Of course not. I'll get drinks,' Maddie announced. 'What do you all want?'
'No, I'll get it,' Sam said quickly, practically climbing over Rob to get out of his seat. No way was he getting left alone with Xander with only Rob as a buffer. 'No, no, it's okay,' he insisted, when it looked like she would argue, 'I'll get it. Er. Rob?'
'Beer,' Rob said flatly. No doubt he was having a similar internal crisis, and wishing he had insisted on getting the drinks himself. Sam refused to feel sorry for him. It wasn't Rob that Xander had a problem with, after all.
'Get us a cranberry breezer?' Maddie said.
'Eugh.'
'Shut up, Rob,' she snapped.
Sam waited anxiously for the newcomer to speak. He heard nothing and was forced to turn and look Xander in the face. 'You want something?' he asked, his voice coming out a little higher than he would have liked.
The man shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting up and down like a tumultuous mountain range. 'Not for me, thank you,' he said gruffly.
Sam blinked. What sort of person agreed to come out for drinks with a group of people he barely knew and then didn't order anything? He could see Rob making an incredulous face behind Xander's back, and Maddie was looking about as puzzled as he felt. He considered repeating the offer, but then he remembered that he was trying to escape the situation. 'Okay then,' he said, and fled the scene.
He caught his breath while he was waiting at the bar, hardly noticing the smiles of the slight, blond barman who took his order. What was it about Xander that riled him so, he wondered? Other than the fact that he was a total wanker, obviously. And what was he doing here? Was he interested in Maddie? It seemed the most likely scenario, but something told him there was a hole in that theory, somewhere…
The drinks were handed to him on a tray with another smile, which he returned only shakily, and he stepped away from the bar only to come face to face with the object of his frenzied consideration. He almost dropped the tray. Xander reached out to help steady it. 'Sorry,' the big man said, in a tone of voice that was so different to his usual monotone that Sam forgot to be on edge for a second.
'That's okay,' he said, automatically. 'You change your mind?'
The corner of one side of Xander's mouth twitched. 'That's what I told your friends,' he admitted, 'But actually I just wanted to talk to you, for a minute. If that's all right?' he added. He sounded serious, but then, he always did.
'Oh.' Sam blinked, utterly nonplussed. 'Er... okay, I guess...'
Xander took the tray from him easily and handed it to a passing waiter, pointing out the table it belonged to. Before it left his reach, he plucked Sam's Diet Coke from it and handed it to him. 'Not drinking?' he asked, gruffly.
Sam looked from his glass, to Xander, and back, and shook his head. 'Exams,' he explained shortly.
Xander nodded understanding and turned slightly, leading him to a slightly quieter area near the back of the bar. 'Good on you. What are you studying?'
Sam blinked. 'Third year medicine,' he said, on autopilot.
Xander's eyes widened noticeably, his forehead wrinkling under the buzzcut. 'Right. So definitely not drinking, then.'
Was that a joke? Sam found himself relaxing a little, even allowing the corners of his mouth to suggest a smile. The man was only human after all, even if he was terrifying. It turned out he even had some kind of interest in other people's lives. How awkward could it really be?
Xander cleared his throat into his closed fist, a sound that, from him, was audible even over the noise of the bar. 'What I wanted to say was…' he seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze fixed somewhere behind Sam's ear. Then he looked back at him, refocused, and cleared his throat again. 'That is, I wanted to apologise for how I acted when we first met. I know I came off like a dickhead.'
Ah. So that was how awkward it could get. Sam's mouth dropped open, and it was a second or two before he thought to close it again. Thinking about the long-ago incident made him shudder inwardly with discomfort, but… 'I didn't think you'd noticed,' he said honestly, once he'd got his bearings. 'Why didn't you say something back then?'
Xander winced. 'Nadine was right there,' he pointed out. 'I didn't want to fuck it up on the first day. Or at least make it really obvious that I fucked up.'
'But…' Sam forged on, 'Then you just ignored me for the next hour...'
'Did I?' Xander spoke with what sounded like genuine confusion, but Sam could imagine he saw something resembling guilt in that hard-lined face. 'I'm sorry. I was a bit ashamed of myself after that introduction. I'd just moved back here from Korea, and when I saw you I thought maybe I'd found... a kindred spirit.'
Sam frowned with interest. 'You lived in Korea?'
'Studied there for a while. Got my fourth dan.'
Sam whistled. 'No wonder Linda hired you! How long were you there for?'
'About four years.' Xander's lips twitched again. Sam was almost certain it was meant to be a smile this time. 'It's been a while since I was back home for real, though. I travelled around a lot, in the army.' Small pieces gradually began falling into place as Sam listened. The army certainly explained a lot. That totally deadpan expression, for one thing. 'Anyway,' the big man went on, 'Just wanted to explain things. I know I've been riding you a lot lately, but…' a brief hesitation, 'You're one of the best in that class, you know. Especially for a cho dan. With a little extra training you could be ready for nationals.'
Sam felt his face heat and shook his head quickly. 'I'm not really into competition,' he said quickly. 'I mostly do it because I hate going to the gym, and I like the people, and the challenge of it. And it's good for balance, too,' he added, wondering how one stopped oneself from rambling once they got started. 'And stretching, and stuff....'
'You don't need any help with that,' Xander said, and something in his deep voice made Sam shudder inwardly, though he wasn't sure why or whether it was a good or a bad feeling. 'How did you get to be so flexible?'
Sam swallowed. 'Er. Well, I did dance in high school.'
He thought he was starting to be able to read the minute subtleties in the man's expression. Xander looked surprised, but pleased for some reason. 'Ah, I see,' he said, with apparent interest. 'Was that here in Melbourne?'
'In the country,' Sam corrected. 'Wangaratta.'
'That's far away. Do you go back much?'
'Sometimes. Not often,' he explained. 'It's expensive, and pretty much all my parents have is going into my uni fees, and that's after my scholarship and HECs and everything. My dad works on a farm up there and my mum cleans in local supermarkets. I mostly stay here and study. Me being a doctor is my dad's dream. It's all he's ever wanted for me. I can't let him down now.'
Xander looked thoughtful. Sam, thinking back on his own words, wondered what had caused him to say all that when it hadn't, after all, really been part of the question.
'What about your dream?' Xander asked eventually.
It was a simple enough thing to say, but Sam felt a shiver go down his spine. 'I… wanted to dance,' he said honestly, with only the barest trace of regret in his voice. 'But Taekwondo a few times a week is the next best thing. Not everyone can have their dream,' he added, with a firmness that he hoped would discourage any further argument.
Xander looked for a moment as though he might like to say something else, then his gaze flickered again to something behind Sam's shoulder, and his expression settled once more into the hard, blank military mask that was so familiar.
'What?' Sam asked, feeling the hairs prickle on the back of his neck but sensing instinctively that he ought not turn around. Despite this, he was peripherally aware of a door opening and shutting somewhere behind him.
Xander said nothing, but moved forward around Sam and headed to the door marked "Exit - Staff Only" behind the toilets. Sam turned with him, watching his retreating back, but he saw nothing else that was out of the ordinary. He glanced back quickly to see if Rob or Maddie were looking for him - he caught a glimpse of them on the small raised dance floor, laughing while bopping up and down, apparently determined to have a good time despite his absence and oblivious to anything untoward. When he looked back, Xander was slipping through the door. Making a hasty decision, Sam put his untouched glass of Coke on an empty side table and hurried after him.
Sam, too, could move silently when he wanted; his lean frame and naturally light step made it easy. He slipped through the crowd to the door and came out into the alley at the back of the bar, amid the warm damp of the evening November air. Xander's broad shoulders were just outside the doorway, blocking his view slightly, but if Sam ducked to one side he could just see through to where there were shapes of four people, further down the alleyway. In fact, he saw as he slipped silently up to Xander's side, there were three men advancing on a fourth, smaller man, who was doing his best to back away from them in the confined space. You did not have to be completely streetwise to sense that something was very wrong.
Xander didn't look around, but he seemed to know instinctively that Sam was there. 'Stay with me,' he commanded, very low.
Later, Sam wondered why he hadn't objected to being given orders, or at least given any thought to doing anything other than what Xander told him to. In the moment, however, no such thought occurred to him. He stood forward when Xander did, heart pounding but focused, braced and ready.
'Some kind of problem here?' Xander asked, in a deadly calm voice. The three men turned to glare at him. They were all tall white Aussies, wearing beer-stained singlets over tattooed, brawny arms. Sam could tell immediately that they were all drunk as well, but that wasn't the worst of it; as Xander stepped forward away from the door, one of them moved a hand, and there was a glint of sharp metal in it.
'None of your fuckin' business,' one of the others sneered nastily, in an accent so thick and bogan it was practically staggering around on its own drunken legs. He had thick tattoos creeping out from under the neckline of his singlet right up his throat to the edge of his jaw. The fourth, smaller man, who appeared to be one of the bar workers, backed off, looking terrified; he was slim, and blond, and Sam recognised the barman who had smiled at him earlier in the evening.
'I don't think you're supposed to be back here.' Xander nodded pointedly towards the "Staff Only" sign above the big wheelie bins.
'Fuck off,' snapped the one with the knife, 'or I'll cut your fuckin' eyes out.'
Uh oh, Sam thought, in a brief moment of cognisant hysteria. We are really not in the country anymore, Toto.
'I think you guys need to head home,' Xander said, still cool as anything. Turning to the barman he added. 'Mate, you better go back inside.'
The barman nodded quickly and attempted to step towards them, but the third aggressor, whose grey singlet was patched with dark sweat under his arms, moved to block his path. At the same time, without warning, the man with the knife launched himself at Xander. It seemed to happen in the space of a split second, but Xander's arm shot out, blocked the arm wielding the knife, and his other arm swung up and forward in a punch to the throat that sent the man staggering back, gargling.
The other two men finally caught up to what was happening and came to their friend's aid - but Sam was in their way. He shifted automatically into fighting stance, one leg slightly bent and behind him, his hands fisted and at the ready. When the man with the tattoos came forward, Sam spun on his front leg, the back foot coming up and landing a roundhouse easily to the side of the man's head. Sweat-stains, coming up just behind him, got treated to an elbow to the face before Sam tugged him down by the shoulders, slamming his knee into the attacker's groin and elbowing him hard in the back of his neck, driving him to his knees.
Behind him he heard a wail of pain, either from Xander or the man he was fighting, but he had no time to look around; Neck-Tattoos was coming again. There was no time to think, no time to consider, but three years of muscle memory took over, flooded through his body, and left his brain quite far behind in the order of things. Neck-Tattoos had cottoned on to him now - and he was visibly angry at already having been beaten back once by such a small and apparently insignificant opponent. 'Try that again, Karate Kid,' he snarled. 'Fuckin' chingo, I'll-'
Sam braced himself. The man hurled himself forward, fists flying. Sam ducked, using his relatively slight build to his advantage, slamming one punch to the ribs and kicking out behind him to the back of the knee. The man grunted in pain and whirled around, staggering. Sam shifted his backside towards him, reached behind for the hem of the baggy shorts under the singlet, bent his knees and threw Tattoos easily over his hip, using the man's own weight to send him flying until he hit the ground with a thud.
A siren in the distance. Sweat-stains, who had staggered to his feet and had looked like he was gearing up for another go, blinked owlishly as the lights above the alleyway were suddenly turned on. He seemed to make a decision, reached down to grab his compatriot by the tattooed bicep, and dragged him back towards the end of the alleyway, where a low fence was all that separated them from the street. In seconds they had disappeared from sight.
Relieved of his attackers, Sam turned to see, first the barman standing in the doorway holding a cordless phone - clearly he had run inside at the first chance he got and dialled triple 0 - and then Xander, holding the last, struggling man in a reverse choke. Mr Knife was gasping in vain and scrabbling with blunt fingertips at Xander's thick arm. The knife itself was lying discarded on the ground, useless, and as Sam watched, the frantic scrabbling subsided, the man's eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp. Xander laid him gently on the ground, as though he were taking care of a friend who had had a few too many.
'Is he…?' Sam panted. His heart was pounding, he realised, but he hadn't noticed until now. His head was spinning as his brain finally caught up with his body.
Xander reached down and checked Mr Knife's pulse. 'He's fine,' he said. 'Give him a few minutes.'
The blond barman was gaping. 'That… was amazing,' he gasped, one hand pressed to his chest. 'That was like something out of a movie!'
Xander grimaced. 'If it was a movie there'd be awards and medals,' he said. 'Somehow I doubt that'll happen this time. We better get out of here before the cops show up.'
Sam blinked. 'Why?'
Xander looked up at him. Their eyes met. Something changed in Xander's expression, but hard to read as it always was, Sam wasn't sure what to call it. 'Trust me,' the big man said, so low and quiet it was barely audible over the already-approaching sirens.
And, weirdly, Sam knew that he already did trust him. Xander was looking at him in a way that made his mouth go quite dry all of a sudden. 'Yeah,' he said, licking parched lips. 'Okay.'
Xander reached out and grabbed his arm.
'Wait-' the barman protested as they retreated back through the bar, but they were already gone, slipping through the crowd and out of the main doors, not running but moving swiftly down the street until they reached a corner out of the streetlights with no pedestrian traffic. The sirens were drawing closer, and somewhere through the narrow gaps between the buildings they could see flashing lights amid the yellow lights of other cars. But here they were safe; they would not be seen if no one was searching for them.
'Holy shit,' Sam breathed, but before he could say anything else, Xander had turned and braced him up against the wall, bending down low, and his mouth was on Sam's, lips pressing, tongue tasting, and for a few moments Sam's whole world was that mouth, and his own pounding heart, the sweat drying cold on his scalp and making his hair stand on end, and the brick wall making its impression through his T-shirt and the seat of his pants. All the nerves in his body were on extra sense alert; he could hear the crackling of the gritty wall against his jeans, smell the sweat on Xander's shoulders, feel everywhere his skin touched anything. And in the midst of it all, Xander's mouth firmly and insistently against his, sucking, gasping, tasting. It seemed to last half a lifetime between stolen breaths.
'Fuck,' Xander muttered, when he finally pulled away - enough that Sam could breathe through his mouth again, but his back was still pressed hard against the brick, and his whole body was still tingling, fiery and oversensitive even to the air. 'Sorry…'
'... s'okay,' Sam gasped. The final pieces of the Xander puzzle were falling quite firmly and loudly into place. How had he not seen it before?
'You were very good,' Xander growled, and Sam could feel him through both their trousers as he pressed up against him. 'Two of them at once.'
'They weren't armed,' he breathed, as Xander leaned close and his hot breath caressed the crook of Sam's neck. 'Your guy had a knife. You could have been killed... I didn't even see what you did,' he admitted.
'I'll show you later,' was the muffled reply, and Sam thought, will you indeed? 'I shouldn't do this,' Xander muttered then, apparently to himself, even as his hands slid under Sam's shirt, exploring none-too-gently the smooth skin around his navel. 'I've been so fucking careful…'
'Yes... very,' Sam agreed, rolling his eyes despite every instinct in his body telling him to shut up and let Xander get on with whatever he was about. 'All those little adjustments…'
Xander hissed and took a half step back. He actually looked guilty, Sam could see it even in the darkness of the alcove. 'You noticed that?' he said, low.
'I couldn't not notice.' Sam cocked his head to one side, considering, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Yes, things were certainly starting to make sense now. 'My form isn't really that bad, is it,' he said, a statement rather than a question since he felt he already knew the answer.
The big man's eyebrows knotted slightly in a frown. 'Don't get cocky,' he growled. 'No one's perfect.' He stepped closer again, one large hand curving around the back of Sam's neck. 'But no,' he added. 'It's not that bad.'
Sam tipped his head up and murmured happily, his arms uncrossing and reaching for Xander's shoulders as he kissed him again. It was gentler this time, by relative standards, but he could still feel the silent, desperate demand behind it.
'I knew it,' he muttered triumphantly when his lips were finally free to speak.
I just had to have some reason to touch you,' Xander said flatly, with not quite as much guilt as before as he mouthed at Sam's jaw. 'The way you move… fuck…'
'That's highly inappropriate,' Sam said in mock protest, biting his lip as he did his best to ignore the growing pressure against his groin from Xander's body pressing against him. 'You're my teacher!'
'It's not funny.'
'It's kind of funny.'
Xander growled, low and hoarse, and Sam hissed his next breath as he felt large but nimble fingers catch on the button of his jeans.
'SAM! SAM, ARE YOU OUT HERE?'
Xander moved like lightning, suddenly standing two feet away, face hidden by the dark. Sam felt cold air in the space where he had been and moaned with disappointment, but did his best to get a grip on himself. Looking out into the street he saw two familiar figures approaching. Gathering his patience and trying to recite pharmaceutical ingredients alphabetically in his head, he stepped out into the streetlight. 'Hey guys,' he said, waving at Rob and Maddie as they approached.
'Sam!' Rob looked extremely relieved. 'Where the hell have you been? The cops showed up - apparently there was a big fight out the back of the bar. We couldn't find you, I was freaking out.'
'I'm fine,' Sam said, shrugging, trying to rub the goosebumps off his arms.
'Have you seen Xander?' Maddie asked.
Unable to help himself, Sam glanced back into the alley. He already knew that he wouldn't see anyone there, but his heart still sank a little when his searching gaze found only darkness and an abandoned MX paper on the ground. 'He was here,' he said, truthfully. 'But I guess he left.'
'As long as he's okay,' Maddie sighed. 'Well this sucks. You guys want to go grab a drink somewhere else?'
'Actually, I should really get going,' Sam said, without quite meeting her eyes. 'Exams, y'know.'
'Right,' Rob said. There was something in his expression; Sam wondered if he could somehow read the events of the last twenty minutes in his face.
The last class of term was the following Wednesday. Sam took a shower for once and hung back afterwards, dressing and packing his uniform painfully slowly as everyone else filed out.
'You coming?' Rob asked as he went out the door of the locker room.
'No, I'm good,' Sam told him. 'I have a ride coming. See you later.'
He wished Linda a happy Christmas as she was locking up for the holidays. He walked to the corner of the next street, and waited, his heart pattering in his chest, his damp hair dripping cool water down the back of his T-shirt, cool and refreshing against the warm night air.
A car drew up, its lights flashing once before it came to a stop beside him. Sam got in. 'You know there's not actually a rule against this,' he said, dropping his gym bag into the back seat. 'I checked. Why are we being all secret ops?'
'That's classified,' was the answer.
Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'So… Korea… was that before or after the army?'
Xander reached out behind Sam's head and pulled him forward. As their lips touched, and Xander coaxed Sam's apart, firm but tender, Sam decided to let all his protests go for now. There would be more time for those sorts of questions later. At least he hoped there would be a later. Preferably quite a lot of later.
'Finally,' Xander growled, and let go with obvious reluctance. The car roared into life and Sam felt a thrill of anticipation.
'Where are we going?' he asked, a little hoarsely.
Xander smiled a sly smile, a dangerous smile. 'My place,' he said. 'There are one or two things I still have to teach you.'