"I was steeped in denial, but my body knew." ― Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Rain pelted the windshield as he carefully parked the SUV in front of Travis' trailer. He'd insisted on bringing his partner home, telling him that he'd not be responsible for his annoying ass being splattered all over the freeway because he'd let him ride his motorcycle home in this weather. He actually had an ulterior motive in all this when he had asked, but his courage was fast failing him and he was suddenly unsure of whether he could go through with it or not after all.
Wes shut the vehicle down but didn't unbuckle or otherwise make a move to get out. Travis let go of the seatbelt and it retracted loudly in the silence. He watched Wes curiously, like he was a lab experiment ready to yield some exciting results. "You okay man?"
"Yeah, of course," Wes spluttered, trying to drag his thoughts back to the present. "Anyway, I'll be back at seven o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. Be ready."
He figured that was enough of a hint to get Travis out of his passenger's seat but his partner hadn't budged. His blue-grey eyes were solidly fixed on his own.
"You're full of shit," Travis said.
"I am not," Wes lied. "It's the weather. I need to get home before Alex starts worrying."
Travis studied him for a moment, considering his words. "Nope, not buying it," Travis decided. "You made this funny face when you said Alex's name which makes me think something's up. Spill."
Wes leaned back away from his partner and pulled a disbelieving face. "What makes you think something's up? Alex and I are fine."
He shrugged as well as one could in the confines of the front seat. "If you say so, but your body language is saying otherwise. One last chance before I get out of the car – you wanna talk about it?"
"No, I told you, she and I are good." Wes willed his face to not betray him.
"Okay, man, if you insist." The tone in Travis' voice made it plain that he didn't believe him.
He had one foot out the door when Wes changed his mind. "Okay, okay, I – I need to talk. Travis, please, don't get out."
Pulling his foot back inside, Travis closed the car door and looked at his partner, concern etched on his face. "Do you want to do this here? Or would you like to come inside?"
Wes shook his head. "I've already lost my nerve three times this week. If we get out of this car, I might just lose it again. I need to get this out before I change my mind."
Travis frowned, it wasn't a good look on him. His mouth was made for smiling, all thick lips and white teeth. "Okay man, I've got my ears on. Start talking."
Wes watched as Travis reached over and turned down the radio, focusing his attention completely on him. It was unusual to be the object of Travis' consideration. Generally, he only gave him this much in the middle of a case. He would take it though, because it had come without even the slightest hint of an insult or joke.
"I lied," he began, not knowing quite where he should start in all this mess. "Alex and I, we're not okay."
"How not okay are you two?" He leaned in closer, resting a hand on the center console. "I know she's not happy with your decision to become a cop but… well, I thought she'd gotten over it enough to deal."
He shook his head, unsure of how to put it into words. "She's not ever going to get over it, Travis. She's – she's determined to get me back into law. And I just can't."
Travis sat back in his seat, watching Wes' face. While Wes greatly appreciated his willingness to listen, he half hoped he would break in with some kind of joke and ease the anxiety he felt building in his chest. "I think she wants to end it," he whispered.
"What?" Travis grimaced. "Sorry. That was a little loud."
"Just a little." A tiny smile crept onto his face.
"What makes you think she wants a divorce," Travis asked quietly, almost as if saying it out loud would make it real.
Wes shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. "She's started sleeping in the guest room."
Travis visibly deflated at the news. "Aw, man, I'm so sorry. That's never good."
"No," he choked, "it's not. But what do I do?"
"I don't know, Wes, I really don't know." Travis reached between them and took his hand. Giving it a squeeze, he brought Wes' gaze back to him. "Because, really. Look who you're asking."
Wes laughed despite himself. "You have a point there."
"Tell you what. Come inside with me for a bit. We can have a beer, you can calm down before going home. How's that sound?"
"Actually, it sounds like a good idea. Mind if I call her first? She does still worry, even if she doesn't like me much these days." It came out more self-deprecating than he had intended, but it brought a sympathetic smile to his partner's face.
"Yeah, of course. Tell her I said 'hi'." Travis gave his hand another squeeze before letting go. "I'll meet you inside."
Wes nodded, watching him get out of the car and run to the door of his trailer. He called Alex, making it quick and perfunctory, not having the desire to make small talk. Just the facts – the rain was coming down too hard, he and Travis were holing up at the station for a bit.
Okay, so maybe not just the facts.
Travis grabbed two beers from the fridge and set them on the little table in the kitchen. In frustration, he ran his hands angrily through his hair. How could Alex do this to Wes? Especially after all this time together. The woman was insane if she thought she could find a better husband than Wes. He'd be the first to admit that Wes was far from perfect, but he was a damn good man. Everything he did only happened after careful consideration of all the facts. The most irrational decision he'd ever made had been to leave law and become a cop. And honestly, if you asked him, that wasn't all that irrational of a decision.
He started at the sound of his door opening. Lost in his mental ranting, he'd forgotten he'd asked Wes to join him for a bit. "You startled me," he chuckled, handing his partner a beer.
"Thanks," Wes said, accepting the drink and taking a long pull from the bottle. "I don't usually drink beer, but tonight, that tastes good."
Raising his bottle in salute, he agreed. "Some nights, nothing goes down better than a good brew." A wicked grin crossed his face. "Or a pretty girl, am I right?"
"Can't say that I'd know these days," he sighed, dropping into a chair at the table. Making a face, he apologized. "Sorry. Didn't mean to say that out loud."
"It's all good," Travis deflected the apology, holding one hand up to stop anything further. "Trust me, been there, gone through that."
"Not me," he admitted, "or, not really, I guess. I've been with Alex for so long, that I don't even remember those 'dating days'."
"You got together in college, didn't you?" Travis lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a gulp.
Wes nodded. "We did. Married shortly after graduation. I'm not sure what life would look like without her."
"Here's to hoping you don't have to find out," Travis said. He didn't believe his words. From the sounds of it, their marriage had hit the rocks hard. "Want another?"
He looked at his nearly empty bottle for a moment before tipping it up and swallowing the last of the amber liquid. When his eyes met Travis', he could see the emotion sparking behind them. "Hit me one more time, bartender."
"Just so long as you promise not to go dancing on my counters, okay?" He gave the blond a flirty wink.
Wes gave him a cocky smile in return. "See, you're just saying that because you want me to dance on your counters."
Travis laughed heartily. "Ya got me there, baby. Another round?"
"Another round."
Wes wasn't sure when they'd finished the beer and moved on to the tequila, but he hadn't been this drunk since… well, ever. Vaguely, he remembered Travis calling Alex telling her that he wasn't letting Wes drive home in this rain and was making him stay in his trailer. Alex had been confused, thinking they were still at the station like Wes had told her earlier. In true Marks fashion, Travis had concocted a story she'd believed about dodging raindrops until they'd made it here, and then the heavens had opened up on them again.
He was going to be in so much trouble in the morning. She was going to be pissed.
"We need a bed," Travis announced from right beside Wes' ear.
"This is your place, you forget where it was?" Wes laughed at his little joke.
"Naw, I know exactly where it is, baby." He took hold of Wes' arm and hauled him to the bed. Wobbling, he fell backwards onto the mattress, pulling the blond along with him. "See, found it."
Wes toppled onto his partner's chest, laughing like the drunken fool he was. "I see," he said, snuggling against Travis' body. "You're so warm."
"And you smell like heaven," Travis whispered, kissing the top of his head.
"Mmmph," Wes murmured in appreciation before properly passing out.
Cracking one eye, he looked around the room. "Urgh," he complained, lifting Travis' arm off his middle. What the hell, Marks."
Travis rolled onto his side, rubbing his eyes with a fist. "Not sure, but I think we got a little drunk last night."
"Ya think?" Wes' sarcasm was palpable. "God, Alex is going to kill me when I get home."
"No, she won't. I called her last night, remember? Or did I?" He scratched his head, thinking.
"You did," he said, stretching. "But she has to know I was avoiding her now."
A weight landed on Travis' chest as the reason for their little impromptu party last night flashed back to him. "Shit man, I'm sorry. This really is my fault, I shouldn't have brought out the tequila."
Wes placed a hand on a dark-skinned arm. "It's no one's fault but my own. And honestly? I needed that. I might be regretting it at the moment, but I needed to get all of that off my chest."
"And to forget for a few hours," Travis added, knowing the truth of it.
He also knew there was one other thing that his partner desperately needed. Something his wife had been denying him for too long. Travis wondered how Wes would react to his assumption, but he had to take the chance. It was about more than the obvious and he needed to show that to him.
Travis moved closer to Wes on the bed, draping an arm across his partner's waist. He could feel the heat rising off Wes' bare chest – when he'd stripped to his dress slacks, Travis didn't remember – and it was a wonderful feeling. Leaning forward, he gave Wes a chaste kiss, just lips pressing against lips, testing the waters.
Wes leaned back, slow and controlled, not the reactionary sort of backwards jerk he'd expected, a good sign. "What are you doing," he murmured.
"Kissing you," he stated plainly, moving in for another.
"But why?" Wes placed a hand against the heated skin covering Travis' brawny chest. Not pushing just resting.
"How long has it been since she's shown you any kind of affection?" Travis watched his partner's face contort, pain filing his eyes. "Not just sex, Wes, but actual affection?"
"Too long," he disclosed quietly. This time, he was the one that moved in for a kiss.