Bowie is back in Philadelphia and making a life for himself. New job, comfortable apartment, his family nearby. He’s fine without Smith. Just fine. At least, he was fine until he came home from work to find the man who broke his heart waiting in his apartment. Asking for a favor. No apologies for months of silence. Bowie doesn’t owe Smith anything. He should protect his own heart. He ought to keep far away from Smith. Never touch him again. Definitely not share a bed and pretend they’re in love.
Smith isn’t fine. He’s not sure he ever has been. Maybe there’s something wrong with him, something that makes it impossible for people to care about him. There are only two people he loves enough to go out of his way for, and one of them is about to get married. His sister wants him at her wedding, and she wants to see him happy. Not telling her about his breakup is coming back to bite him in the ass. Pretending he and Bowie are still together is a tiny white lie. Who could it hurt ... other than Smith?
It was a nice hotel. Clean, spacious, comfortable.
There was only one bed.
“Don’t try telling me this was the only room left.” Bowie crossed his arms over his chest.
“No.”
“I said I’d be your plus-one, not -- this.”
Smith looked at him. “You liked me for this.”
“Yes? Obviously I liked having sex with you.”
Smith twitched and took his phone out. His shoulders relaxed, which was when Bowie consciously registered how tense his posture had been.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just the cat camp letting me know Meelie ate a bit of her dinner. She didn’t earlier. They said that’s common in a new place, they get too stressed.”
“Poor Amelia. Next time --” Bowie cut himself off. There was no next time.
“Next time what?”
“Just, if you’re going near Philly, you could drop her at my place. Or my cousin Aled is really good with cats. They always had them growing up and just can’t afford a pet now ...”
“Aled was the one studying to be a child therapist?”
He hadn’t thought Smith was listening when he blabbed about his family. “Right.”
“Maybe I will. I haven’t been leaving town as much.” Smith wasn’t fidgeting -- he never fidgeted, unless you counted playing with Bowie’s hair after sex -- but he felt fidgety. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine.” They had stopped halfway to Pittsburgh for dinner. It was nearly midnight.
“I have energy bars and water if you get hungry in the night.”
Bowie wasn’t really a midnight snacker, that had just been bad habits due to late nights studying. But Smith had started keeping easy food around for him.
“I’m going to shower.” Because I need a shower. Because I want to avoid you. Because I want to smell good while we’re sharing a bed. Bowie was so screwed.
He scurried off to hide in the bathroom.
When he finished showering and turned the water off, he could hear Smith’s voice. Bowie hesitated, because he didn’t want to step out in a towel if one of Bowie’s family had shown up, but there was only a pause and then Smith saying, “I’m fine.”
He sounded the least fine Bowie had ever heard him.
Bowie opened the bathroom door, not wanting to eavesdrop.
“Yes, of course I remember where the fucking church is. Look, I’m going to bed now. Get your beauty sleep. Night.”
He ended the call.
Bowie didn’t think he’d ever seen Smith talk on the phone before. He must really care about his sister.
“Everything okay?” Bowie asked awkwardly, knowing Smith wouldn’t want to talk, wishing he knew how to help.
“Fine. Bed?”
“Sure.” Bowie turned away to pull a tee shirt and shorts out of his overnight bag. He pulled the shirt over his head and found Smith watching him.
Smith stripped efficiently, removing and folding every garment and standing naked for a moment, looking at Bowie, before putting on boxers.
Bowie crawled into bed, making sure he was well to one side, even though it felt wrong. The bed smelled wrong, too. Not their -- Smith’s -- bed, which had a faint oil-and-metal scent from the gun Smith kept behind the headboard.
The bed dipped as Smith’s weight settled into it.
Bowie had his face turned away, but he could feel Smith’s eyes on his bare shoulder and the curve of his neck, before Smith shut off the light.
