WITH relief, Red didn’t run immediately into flame. The hallway was hot and he could hear crackling fire from the main office at the end, but it hadn’t reached the front door yet. There was a shimmer of heat all the way along the corridor wall. Again, the image of the café façade flashed into his mind. He was ridiculously pleased the fire hadn’t reached the kitchen. “Owen! Jag! Can you hear me?” There was the sound of labored coughing, somewhere down the hall.
Red stumbled through the smoke, trying to see the others. The smell of scorched paper scalded his nostrils, and the approaching heat tightened his already dry throat. Within the smoke, a black confetti of burned paper fluttered and swirled. He started to cough and couldn’t stop. It was a huge relief when he saw Jag looming out of the smoky curtain.
“Here!” Jag shouted hoarsely. “He’s collapsed.”
Red didn’t bother with more conversation. It was difficult enough in here, and dangerous to waste time. He grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and followed Jag into the secondary office. The room’s recent decoration had been one of the first to be finished, and it was being used for storage. At the base of a pile of large boxes, Owen lay on the floor, not moving. One of the boxes had already caught light. The words “—eese and onion flavour, 12 x 48—” were slowly being devoured by a creeping, flickering flame. “Pull him away from the boxes, Jag. I’ll get that.” He pulled the pin on the extinguisher, pointed at the base of the burning box, and pressed the lever. All those outdoor-bound courses had done him proud, he thought. Health and safety, indoors and out, his father had insisted on a base level of skills, even if at the time, Red had thought it highly unlikely he’d ever find himself alone in the jungle or trapped in a lift or… in the middle of a domestic fire. Right. Another point to Alexander De Vere. But unusually, Red would look forward to telling his father about it this time.
“Got ’im outta the office,” Jag said. His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were streaming from the smoke. Or that was what Red assumed. “Shut the fuckin’ door. But I couldn’ stop it.”
“You did a good job,” Red said. “The firemen are here now. They’ll see to it.” He crouched by Owen’s body. It looked like he was still breathing, but his face was very flushed. “Can you lift him?” This small blaze was almost out, but the smoke from the office was still debilitating. And it probably wouldn’t be long before another box caught fire.
“No fuckin’ way.” Jag frowned, though his worried gaze never strayed from Owen. “Already tried. Heavy little shit.”
Red tried to smile, then coughed. “Together. Come on. Can’t waste time.”
The two of them lifted Owen. They draped his arm around Jag’s neck, and Jag fixed his arm around Owen’s waist to stabilize him and help take his weight. Then Red took the other side of the unconscious boy, and they stumbled out from the room. Red glanced down the corridor to the office where the main blaze was. The closed door had contained the fire for a while, but now the small glass window in the door had cracked and fallen in, and he could see the leaping flames inside. There was a cork notice board on the wall outside the office, and a small table of leaflets. These were already burning, and a trail of glowing embers had made its way to the room they’d been in. The fire would make easy work of the paper and cork, move on to the cardboard boxes, and then race through the rest of the center. “Come on,” he urged, and they started shuffling toward the exit.
“He was scared,” Jag said suddenly. “Fuckin’ scared.”
“Owen?” Red asked.
“Duh. Yeah. He says, ‘Sean’ll kill me unless I do what he says.’”
“No, he won’t. The police have Sean now.”
Jag shook his head, but Red didn’t know if he was disagreeing or just trying to shake off the charcoal flakes. “He was lookin’ for the bag. I told the stupid tosser it weren’t there. He knew it weren’t there! Why’d he go back in?”
“You said it. He was scared. Wasn’t thinking clearly.” God, but the hallway seemed a bloody sight longer on the exit than it had ever been coming in. Owen was a dead weight, even with the two of them helping to carry him. Red nearly fell a couple of times, and Jag’s arm was slipping from around Owen’s waist.
“Owen was gonna turn ’im in,” Jag said, then started coughing. “He was gonna come good, right?”
Red stared at him, at the urgency and fear on the young face. “Yes, he was going to come good. I mean, he is. Don’t worry.” The kid looked shattered and scared. He needed to get out into the fresh air. Red tried to hold back his own coughing but his throat felt as if it had been sandpapered raw. “You go ahead, Jag,” he said. “I’ve got Owen.” Jag pulled away hesitantly, but with a longing look toward the front door.
And then suddenly another figure emerged from the gray, smoky air, like a magician’s trick.
“Carter!”
Carter was also coughing badly, but he reached for them, grabbed on to Owen, and helped them to support the boy. “Jag,” he snapped. “Go on, get out. The firemen are there, they’ll help you.” Jag turned and staggered away on wobbly legs.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Red was horrified to see Carter, struggling through the smoke with a grim, soot-streaked expression. Facing the fire, running toward the fire. At the same time, his heart leapt with joy at the relief, at the knowledge they’d get Owen out more quickly now.
“What the hell are you doing, playing fireman?” Carter sounded really pissed off.
“Just… get out.” Red almost snarled at him. Carter… in harm’s way… in the path of fire, his greatest nightmare…. Red despised himself for bringing this on.
“We’re almost there.” Carter was panting. Red realized he could smell something other than smoke—the blissful chill of fresh air outside. Voices came from the doorway: Miles protesting, a fireman giving orders.
“Sir, stay back. We’ve got this.”
“How many are still in there?”
“Mr. Davison? Mr. De Vere?”
“We’re here!” Red called, but his voice sounded weak and shaky. Bulky shadows appeared in front of them, taking shape through the smoke in the same way Carter had, but with more purpose: men in thick jackets and helmets. A couple of them eased past him, moving with careful haste toward the fire. Red gratefully passed Owen to one of the other firemen who stayed close to guide them out. It was a huge relief to emerge into fresh air again, Carter at his side, both of them coughing.
“Red!” Miles called to them, great relief in his voice. Zeke stood at his side, gaze locked on Carter. It was a rare thing to see Zeke Roswell scared out of his wits. Jag was wrapped in a blanket, Zeke’s arm around him. The fireman supporting Owen drew them all away from the building, and a large pile of green blankets was provided to wrap them in.
“An ambulance is on the way, sir. We’ll get a stretcher—”
Stretcher? Red’s heart, quite genuinely in his opinion, stopped.
“I see this young man’s hurt. Smoke inhalation, I think, no serious burns.”
Not Carter! Poor Owen, but… not Carter.
And so he turned to look properly at him. Carter, who was alive, living, not burned, not badly hurt. Carter, still mercifully with him, looking back at him with a dazed expression and charcoal paper ash in his hair, with tears from the smoke streaming down his face. As Red took a step forward, the firemen took hold of Carter’s shoulders, moving him farther to one side. It was a gentle enough touch, but suddenly Red snapped.
“Don’t fucking touch him!” he shouted.
“Sir, please—”
“Red?” Miles looked startled, not least at Red’s unusual lapse into swearing.
“Leave him!” Red tried to pull Carter nearer, to keep him safe. Carter’s face was white, his eyes dark shadows in the pale skin. Words ached in Red’s throat like pain personified. “I’m sorry—so sorry, Carter. I should have moved more quickly. You shouldn’t have had to come in after me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
The fireman looked between them curiously, but his attention was back on his job. Settling his helmet more securely on his head, he jogged over to join his fellow officers inside the building.
“Cool it, Red.” Zeke frowned. “Carter’s okay, right? You all are, now. We’ll get you checked out.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But whatever it took for Carter to go back in that building…. Zeke, you of all people should know—”
Zeke tensed up. His voice raised a notch. “Yeah? Me of all people, what?”
Red turned to him, mortified. “Dammit. I’m sorry, I just meant—”
“Zeke.” Miles put his hand on Zeke’s arm.
Zeke glanced at Miles, and for a second they looked into each other’s eyes. Zeke took a long, slow breath. “Okay. Red, I’m sorry too. Didn’t mean to bite your head off like that.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, what I should be doing, thinking. Feeling.” Red shook his head. He felt perilously and frighteningly close to tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. “The fire…. Carter….”
“No, man. It’s okay. I know what you meant, and you’re right to worry. The sound of a fire engine still churns me up emotionally, you know? A siren pulls me up short—a fire engine makes me break out in sweat all over. I’ll never forget it, Red. I’ll never forget Jacky. Whatever the bastard did, whatever he said, however much he deserved a shitty death because of the way he behaved in life—”
“Never that!” Miles interrupted.
“No, I guess not.” Zeke’s gaze was back on Miles’s fierce expression, his gaze locked on his lover, his arm already reaching to pull Miles closer. “But I know how Carter must feel. And you’re right, Red, about the effect of all this on him. You’re right to care. I’m glad he’s got you. You and he—” But Zeke never got the chance to finish the sentence.
“So when will you stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” Carter said hoarsely.
THEY all turned, startled, at the sound of his voice. Carter clutched his blanket around him, both to keep himself from shivering and for something to do with his hands. The others gathered around him, but not too close, cautiously watching him. Look at them! Like I’m an invalid. “I’m okay, see?”
Zeke hugged him, not too gingerly, and made a strange snorting, sobbing sound that he tried to turn into a laugh.
“Carter.” Red stood in front of him, searching his face. “I… you could have been hurt.”
“So could you.” Why was Red being so obtuse?
“Carter, he’s right. That was a hell of a thing, for you to run into a burning building like that.” Miles was being obtuse as well, now, it seemed. Such an intelligent man, and yet so worried about all the wrong things.
“I had to do it,” Carter said. “I had to get the kids out. And then Red, as well.”
Red made a sound similar to Zeke’s, but there was a healthy dose of scorn in with it as well. But also fear. Carter was startled to see so much fear in Red’s handsome face. Had things gone that far, and he hadn’t realized that Red was feeling just the same?
“How are you, really?” Zeke asked bluntly. Carter knew what he was asking: How bad was it?
“I was terrified,” he said.
“You see?” Red looked appalled. “I said—”
Carter put a hand on Red’s arm. “Stop that. It’s nothing to do with Jacky. I wish you’d all listen more carefully.” He wished so many other things too. He wished he could stop his tears from falling. He wished he could wipe the look of pain from Zeke’s face. He wished he could just grab hold of Red and be silent with him, holding on to each other. He wanted to check for himself that Red was okay, that he was whole and fit and felt as alive as ever, that nothing had harmed him, or would ever take him away. “I couldn’t bear the loss.”
Zeke frowned. “But you said, nothing to do with—?”
“I’m not thinking of Jacky.” If Carter hadn’t felt as if he’d been through a mangle tonight, he’d have protested it much more forcefully. Was everyone obtuse tonight? “Christ, I haven’t been thinking of Jacky for a long time! I couldn’t bear losing….” He turned to face Red, to grasp at Red’s sleeve and draw him closer. “I couldn’t bear losing you.”
There was a sudden silence in the group that had its own depth of emotion.
Over at the far end of the car park, the ambulance had arrived. One of the medics came over. “We’re taking Mr. Reilly to hospital,” she said. “I think he’ll be okay. Is there anyone we should contact?”
“His parents may be home,” Carter said, though privately he wasn’t so sure. “I can get the number for you. And I should go with him….”
“No, you shouldn’,” came Jag’s voice. The young man was at the medic’s shoulder, still wrapped in a blanket, but looking calmer and stronger, and definitely feeling more vocal. He’d rubbed all evidence of tears off his face, smearing the dirt but obviously helping to restore some of his swagger. “I’m goin’ with him, right?”
“Right,” Red said. He looked as though he was trying to hold back a smile. “Should we call anyone for you?”
Jag shook his head. “Nah. Ruchi’s with Mum ’n’ the kids tonight and Dad’s on shifts. It’s okay.”
“If you need help, Jag, call me,” Carter said.
Jag glanced quickly between Carter and Red and gave an exaggerated grimace. “Like I wanna watch you two gettin’ off while we’re sufferin’ in silence.”
“Never that,” Red murmured wryly.
Jag glared back at him, worrying his lower lip. “Yeah, you. What you said.”
Red raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“On the steps with psycho Sean. Deal with it. You was sendin’ a code, right?”
Red nodded. “I hoped you’d clue in on that. You were in the best place to bring him down properly. And you did.”
“Smart move, eh?”
“Yes.” In a move that startled Carter, Red and Jag bumped fists in perfect synchronization. “Thanks.”
“Bruv,” Jag said softly.
The medic was keen to move Jag into the ambulance, and Carter walked the few steps with him. “I have to ask, Jag. Did Owen tell you how Sean got into the center the first time?”
The young man sighed. “Carter, you dick, everyone knows you keep ’em in your desk. Owen only had to borrow ’em once to get a copy made.”
“Oh God—”
“Cool the angst, okay? We all know t’ look after the center. We’ve got your back. But you better be changin’ the locks.” And before Carter could continue, he added, “We all know the alarm number too. Watch you lock up enough nights. And Pam mutters the numbers under her breath as she does it.”
“I’m on it. I changed it all after the break-in,” Carter said, a little weakly.
Jag nodded, as wisely as if he were the adult and Carter the recalcitrant child. They reached the door of the ambulance.
“Oh. Just one more question,” Carter said, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Exactly what were you both doing at the center at four in the morning?”
This time, Jag looked stunned. Carter could almost see the cogs speeding up in his brain as he thought of a plausible excuse. But when he spoke, his voice was low and almost timid. “I called you tonight ’cos I don’ have anyone else, Carter. Nor does Owen, of course, the moron, but when he needs to talk, he calls me.”
“He wanted to talk?” Or something else?
Jag’s breathing hitched. “Sean was back home, he was fucked up. Owen wouldn’ tell me everythin’, but now we know. I said he should talk to you, Carter. Tell you all about Sean and his dad. He agreed at last, stupid prick. Too fuckin’ free with their hands, I reckon, right?”
“Jag, I can’t say.”
“Anyway.” Jag shrugged. “Guess Owen wants help.”
“He’ll get it, Jag. I promise you.”
Jag nodded.
“So will you, if you need it,” Carter said softly. This time, Jag stiffened. “The 4:00 a.m. meeting, you and Owen,” Carter continued. “No other reason?”
Jag opened his mouth, and Carter could see his lips phrasing the habitual “fuck off.”
“Any time,” Carter said hastily. “Or no time. Whatever you want.”
Jag just shrugged. Some of his swagger was back, though Carter thought he recognized both wariness and need in his expression. “We’re just mates,” he said. “Don’t go buyin’ a hat for the fuckin’ weddin’, y’know?”
Carter smiled back at him and helped the medic hand Jag into the back of the ambulance. She explained that Carter and Red should also get checked out as soon as possible, though they both seemed to have suffered no serious ill effects from the smoke. Still, she said more sternly, it was best to be sure. Carter promised to get them both to the doctor’s surgery first thing in the morning.
Jag had time for one last dig. “’Cos you’ll both be together, won’tcha?” he hissed to Carter, leaning over so the medic couldn’t hear him. “Sleeping?”
Carter shook his head. “None of your business, Jag.”
“He’s cool,” Jag said unexpectedly. His dark skin was grubby from the smoke, but Carter could still see the blush. “He’s sorta hot for an old queer. If y’ like that kinda thing,” he added hurriedly.
Carter’s laugh nearly exploded out of him but he bit it back in time.
HE WATCHED the ambulance leave the car park, and stayed in place even when it was gone. The firemen were still working, but from what he could hear in the background, the fire was all but out. He hoped against hope there hadn’t been too much damage, either from the flames or the water used to put them out. But they’d put it straight, one way or another. They’d worked together before, they could do it again. The danger was over at last, and he had good friends, a good team around him.
To his astonishment, he realized he was crying again—not loud sobs or wails, but a steady stream of fresh tears, coursing down his cheeks. Thank God the kids had already left, though he was all in favor of young people understanding that older adults were people too. Even if they weren’t all sorta hot.
Then arms encircled him from behind, long, strong arms, with a grip that he was learning to welcome with delight and need.
“Let it out.” Red’s voice was firm but immeasurably soothing. Carter had heard that voice joke and protest, but he’d also heard its tone lower in sympathy and care. As Red’s arms tightened round him, he recalled the times he’d heard Red’s voice growing ragged with need and passion. The way Red’s arms folded around him in possession, not just comfort. The way Red’s warm breath felt on his cheek, the smell of his skin, the life in him.
Oh my God, but he wanted more of that!
Carter turned so he was facing Red and tightened his arms in return. Red started as if in surprise, but he never let Carter go. Carter wondered how he’d ever thought they were only friends with benefits. Of course, they’d started that way—and probably still were. But there was so, so much more. He laid his head on Red’s shoulder and let the tears come.
Zeke’s voice broke the moment, although he was obviously making a huge effort to keep it quiet. “We’re going, man. You okay with that?”
Carter glanced at him and nodded, and felt Red nod too. There may have been tears in Zeke’s eyes, or maybe it was just a trick of the light.
“You’ll call me?” Zeke didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “Look, when I said you should wear green more often, I didn’t mean a bloody fire blanket.” He tugged with distaste at the blanket Carter still had around his shoulders. “But I guess this isn’t a moment for aesthetics, right?”
At last. His friends were developing a proper sensitivity. “No. And you’re an idiot.” Carter smiled at Zeke. “But I will call you. Soon.”
Zeke nodded, then turned to Red and said, “Just watch him, okay?”
“Always,” Red said softly.
Miles took Zeke’s arm. “Like Zeke said, we’re going. We’ll leave you to it.” He looked at Zeke and frowned. “Now.”
“And me with the sight of all these firemen to enjoy,” Zeke grumbled. “Was a time, Red would’ve joined me in looking too.”
Carter glanced at Red, who rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m not dead from the waist down, Roswell. I can still appreciate a fine figure in a too-tight navy T-shirt.”
“Yeah? Me too,” Carter muttered against Red’s neck, and they all laughed.
RED and Carter walked toward Red’s car. They’d shed the green blankets, but Red still had his arm around Carter’s shoulder as if keeping him warm. Or maybe it was just to keep him close. They’d both given brief statements to the police about Sean Reilly and would check in again with both police and doctors the next day. Then there would be council HR departments and insurance companies to alert, staff and young people to explain everything to. But for now, both the ambulance and the fire engine had left, and they were alone.
The evening air was warm, maybe from the fire, or maybe just because the frenzy had now ended and peace brought its own physical comfort. As they walked, their boots scuffed up the gravel on the drive. It had been showered with a thin layer of the burned paper confetti that they’d struggled through in the building. It now floated around their legs in an aimless pattern, then fell to the ground again as fragile wisps of charcoal. The air smelled dry, carrying the residual, scorched odor of the fire. An occasional whump sounded from inside the building, as another pile of burned paper or cardboard collapsed to the ground.
“Hell of a lot of clearing up to do,” Carter said.
“And after we just finished from the break-in.”
Carter paused.
“Listen,” Red said. “If you’re going to ask me to do the sweeping again, I demand a better salary.” He chuckled. “Or payment in kind.”
“Yeah? You’re a tough negotiator.” Carter smiled. He started walking again, but more slowly. He was almost reluctant to reach the car too soon. This quiet, though sorry aftermath was allowing him the time to think things through. To savor the thoughts, to turn them over in his mind and try to make sense of the upheaval there’d been in his life recently. The comfort of Red’s arm around him, the memorable newfound excitement of great sex, the astonishing things he was finding out about Red as nurse, Red as community worker, Red as lover….
And that’s what it all came down to, wasn’t it? What he’d been struggling to accept into his life. Not a colleague, not a dinner guest, not a sexual partner—but all of that and a lover as well. He’d never known the whole package. He’d never experienced it properly. It was fucking scary!
Red had slowed his pace to match Carter. “Do you want some more time? We don’t have to rush back for anything.”
“There’s nothing to see. I just… well, I was thinking how you’ve helped with the center so far. How you treat the young people. I suppose it’s a different approach from mine….”
“A bad kind of different?”
“A good kind. A complementary kind.”
Red chuckled. “It’s maybe not my strongest skill, though. When the place is up and running again, I’ll be happy to step back and let you all take over.”
Carter tensed up. Step back? “You’ll…?”
Red gripped Carter’s shoulder more tightly to interrupt the words. It was as if Red could read his suddenly terrified mind. Or maybe he realized that Carter still had a pocket of fragility that needed careful handling. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not from you. Not from us. And I hope to keep in touch with the center through the fundraising and Marie’s work. But I’m assuming Father will take me back at some stage. I may have a discussion before then about working on some of his more altruistic projects. I’m not sure boardroom politics will attract me in the same way in the future.” His expression softened. “But as for us? In private, in our personal lives? You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” Carter said, simply and honestly.
Red hugged him closer. “We’re going to be so good together.” He seemed keen to hide his face against Carter’s hair, or maybe he wanted to wipe his damp eyes. “We’ll have a lot of fun, Carter, I promise you. I’m not always this damned sentimental.”
Carter laughed. “It’s okay. I’m not getting a hat for the wedding yet!”
Red stopped dead. “I’m sorry?”
“Just a joke. Something someone said.” Carter shook his head gently. “So much to get my head around.”
“You need rest and a damned good shower.” Red sniffed at Carter’s hair. “Eau de soot, methinks.”
Carter wrinkled his nose. “Not very attractive?”
Red’s response was swift and startling. He grabbed Carter by the upper arms and spun him so they were face-to-face. “Never! You hear me? It’s not about your looks, not about your bloody smell!”
The shock jolted through Carter’s body. “Shit. I didn’t mean—!”
“Listen again,” Red continued over Carter’s protest, his voice low and urgent, his tone allowing no interruption. “I came to this center originally to be with you—to pursue you, if we’re being honest. I thought I’d help you out and that’d give me the chance to persuade you to date me.”
“Red, for God’s sake, haven’t I said—?”
“Listen, I said. I’ll say all this once, and then we can move on, I hope. Yes, maybe I did it to help myself, as well, because I was a spoiled kid whose father had told him to stop acting like a prick in public and get a more worthy job.”
“You’re more than that,” Carter said quietly. He was still shocked, this time at the look on Red’s face, the naked determination to lay things bare. “Much more.”
“So when have I ever shown it?” Red sighed. “I’m an entertainer, Carter. Yes, I’m successful in business, else Father would never have employed me in the first place. But I’ve also been the world’s greatest and most enthusiastic consumer of everything I earned—money, fame, attention. And for a long while, I was sure that was all I was good for. I thought I’d reached whatever limits I had. But then I spent more time with you, and guess what? I found it wasn’t just a worthy job that made me feel I could be better. It was time spent with you. You bring out the best in me.”
Carter stared at his earnest face for a moment, then, “Is that it?” he said.
Red blinked hard. “Is… what?”
“Is it my turn to speak? To tell you what you’ve done for me?” The words felt strong in his throat; the passion was alight inside him as if the emotional gunpowder had finally reached ignition point. “You don’t just bring out the best in me, Red, you bring me out in the first place! I’ve been hiding, haven’t I? I knew it, yet I didn’t admit it. Didn’t want to admit it. I let the misery and the tragedy of the past become a habit.”
“You’re as bold as I am, Carter Davison. It’s just….”
“A different bold. Yes, I get that.”
They smiled at each other.
Yes. Fucking scary, thought Carter. But oh, so fantastic! They’d reached the car at last. He leaned gratefully against the side of it and cleared his throat. “A bloody good shower, you said?”
Red raised his eyebrows. “I damn well hope so. If the last one’s anything to go by.”
The smile they shared this time was even warmer.
Red took Carter’s arm and opened the car door for him. “Oh, and Carter? If we do date officially—”
What the hell? “I said we’d go public, didn’t I? Or is this another dig at me about getting a tux? Because I’ll send an e-mail to Miles as soon as I get back to the bloody flat, but as you may have noticed, I’ve had other things on my mind—”
“Well, it’s not just the music awards. You’ll have to be seen with me at other places too.”
Carter bit back a grin and put a scowl on his face. As if he wouldn’t want to go with Red, anywhere, anytime! He wouldn’t necessarily like it, but by God, he’d want to go in the first place. “You mean celebrity events? Formal dinners?”
“Clubs. Bars.” Red’s look was both wary and mischievous. “Parties.”
Carter winced and rolled his eyes. “Of course, that’s not really my scene.”
Red gave a snort. “Yes! That’s exactly what I mean. The rolling eyes thing. I’m learning to treat that with the contempt it deserves.”
“Well, I’ll think about your proposition. And as long as you return the favor.”
Red looked confused. “Go to parties?”
“No. Stay at home,” Carter said. “Plenty of staying in and cooking and watching movies. Being quiet, sharing the day, discussing the newspapers.”
Red tilted his hand back and forth as if unsure whether this could possibly be incorporated into his raison d’être. “We can play as well, though?”
“Play?”
“The Wii!” Red crowed. His words tumbled out as a bubbling stream of excitement. “I know you have one, Zeke told me. I want to try the base jumping and BMX riding. Oh, and Fast and Furious! Though I hope you have some classic Mario as well. And we can see friends as well, can’t we?”
“You mean, not just us, together—?”
Red leaned over and murmured in his ear. “I meant your friends, the piercings. I have a lot of correspondence to catch up with them.”
“Let’s go home,” Carter said, tiredly and warmly. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than with Red, back at one flat or the other. “That’s one reason to rush back, isn’t it?”
“That’s what couples do,” Red said.
“True, boyfriend.”
“Lover. Partner. Matching alpha,” Red added with a smirk.
“Shameless switch,” Carter murmured.
“Bossy bottom,” Red retorted.
Carter wanted to laugh, aloud and loudly. Red was a tonic. He’d brought an amazing treasure chest into Carter’s life: fun, laughter, outrage, boldness, determination. And also care and quiet and genuine passion.
“What the hell are you thinking about?” Red peered at him, half-worried, half-curious. “Your expression is rather weird.”
“You let me be the boss of you again soon,” Carter whispered, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”