A/N: This is a sequel to 'I'll Take Two, Please', though really all you need to know is another Lester came through the anomaly. This fic is quite different in tone from that one! The story is Lester/Becker but there are elements of Lester/Becker/OC!Lester, nothing explicit and that's not really the point of the fic. If you are concerned about being squicked, please feel free to PM me and I can answer questions about it. :) The story is meant to be split in three but I was too lazy to do it for this site, but the chapter breaks are left in.
Belonging
One
The fourth time Becker encountered Lester while he was wet from the shower and fortunate to even be wearing a towel, he realised that he was going to have to make some serious changes to his routine.
You see, the thing was, Becker was living with two James Lesters but he was only having sex with one of them. Not through lack of wanting, mind, but it turned out they were both horrible teases with a serious lack of follow-through. He was still hoping, though. He could be incredibly optimistic when he wanted to be.
But he reckoned that walking around in front of another bloke you weren't sleeping with while you were mostly naked and just out of the shower was likely a bit rude. Even if he had caught Lester staring.
As much as Becker was tempted to, for example, accidentally on purpose drop his towel and let Lester see exactly what he was missing, he regretfully acknowledged that he wasn't sixteen and should probably at least try to act like an adult. There was also the fact that the ethics of it all were confusing. Did it count as cheating if the person he was lusting after was a different version of his boyfriend? Did it make a difference if he really only wanted Lester if he had him with James at the same time? Unfortunately this wasn't the sort of thing that got written about in advice columns.
Not that Becker ever read advice columns.
It was also unfortunate that there didn't seem to be a good way to let drop a hint that he still wanted to see them make out with each other. Definitely no subtle way to put that out there. More like dropping an anvil than a hint.
Anyway. Becker mumbled a "Sorry," and clutched his towel firmly around his waist, vowing to try not to be so careless in the future.
Two days later, when Becker ran into a wet Lester, towel hanging precariously on his hips, he swore it wasn't his fault.
Lester was more forthcoming with information about where he was from than Becker had expected him to be. He answered their questions easily and completely, if with a fair degree of sarcasm, because he was Lester, after all.
Well, he was a Lester. But the sarcasm seemed to be ingrained.
It was strange, the things that were different between his reality and this one. The mystery woman, Nick Cutter's Claudia Brown, apparently existed for them. Lester had never heard of Jenny Lewis and as far as he knew, Oliver Leek was simply the vague distasteful memory of a man he'd encountered now and again at the Home Office. Captain Tom Ryan had been injured, but not killed, in the Permian, and their Becker had been brought in sooner, fresh-faced and cocky, or so Lester said. Stephen Hart was alive if not completely well, as the death of Nick Cutter, his lover, at the hands of Helen Cutter, had been enough to drive him away from the ARC.
And on, and on. Connor was fascinated by it all but it was enough to give Becker a migraine. He couldn't understand why it was, in the scheme of things, just so many small differences. It didn't make sense, but then, he was only a soldier, so what did he know?
The real problem was that no matter how much they knew about where Lester had come from, it didn't bring them any closer to being able to get him back there. Anomalies opened all the time but they were from this timestream, not Lester's. The only experience they had that even remotely related to this situation was Cutter's claim that he had changed things somehow when he went to the Permian. Connor tossed around the idea that perhaps what had really happened was that he had stepped through the anomaly into a parallel universe, as Lester had, and this universe's Cutter had gone back to a world where there was a Claudia Brown, who shared the face of Jenny Lewis.
(And where James Lester had been knighted, apparently, but that was a touchy subject. No one mentioned it.)
Connor was trying to work out a way to get Lester home, working on some theories, but Becker didn't know if anything would come of it. Lester never spoke of it directly, but if Becker could read him at all, he wasn't terribly optimistic.
All they could do, Becker decided, was make the best of the situation. Lester was living with them for what seemed likely to be indefinitely so Becker was trying to make him feel welcome. (Less welcome than he actually wanted to, to be honest, but, again. Probably not good manners to say, please will you snog my boyfriend while I watch, or you're probably lonely in that bed all by yourself, why don't you join us in ours?)
Not that it wasn't awkward. The first few days they had hardly known what to say to each other and James had held out on having sex with Becker for an excruciatingly long time. Okay, a week, but still far too long. Excruciating, really.
The first time they slept together since Lester's arrival, it felt sort of like they were doing something wrong, like they had to be fast and silent so they wouldn't get caught. Still, though, as James sucked him off Becker forgot himself and earned a pillow thrown at his face. He tried to choke back his groan, his breathing muffled into the pillow as he came in James' mouth.
"Sorry, fuck, sorry," Becker said as he put the pillow back down on the mattress. He thought about Lester only just down the hall, wondering if he was lying awake. "Do you think he heard us?"
James shifted further up the bed until he was sitting on his heels next to Becker, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "I think they heard you down the street, darling."
Becker ducked his head. "Sorry. I can be quiet, it's just… I'm not used to having to be."
"It's fine. We are the ones doing him a favour, we shouldn't have to worry about it."
"I don't think he expects anything different. I suppose it's simply awkward for him."
"There's no need to tell me."
Becker traced his fingertips over James' thigh. "How weird is it to have him around? I mean, it's just… He's… He's you except he really isn't."
"Mostly I'm wondering whether you want to have sex with him more than me," James said dryly, arching an eyebrow.
"Aw, sweetie, are you jealous of yourself?" Becker pushed himself onto his elbow and stretched forward to kiss James' thigh. "You know you're the only one for me. Wait, I suppose that's not as reassuring as it should be, is it?"
James smacked his head.
Becker found James in the kitchen, boiling water for tea. He came in behind him and wrapped his arms around James' waist, tipping his chin down to rest on James' shoulder.
James stiffened immediately. Not in the dirty way.
Shit.
"You aren't my James, are you?"
"I very much am not."
"If you keep this up I think you'll find that I am no longer your James, either, turtledove."
Becker released his hold on Lester immediately and turned around guiltily, meeting James' eyes where he was stood in the doorway. "Oops?"
James folded his arms over his chest.
Over months of practice, Becker had learned that in times like this, it was generally best to play to his strengths. He went over to James, letting his hips sway deliberately, and rested his hands low on James' hips, ducking his head a little to peer through his eyelashes. "Would it help if I said I'm very sorry?"
"Maybe."
"Well, I am very, very sorry." Becker let his fingers play over James' hips, tracing patterns and delving under his shirt to get to his bare skin. He leaned in to press a kiss to the skin next to James' ear and then whispered something about exactly how he planned to make this up to James.
James pulled back. "Are you trying to bribe me?"
"Is it working?"
James' mouth twitched. "Possibly."
Becker grinned. He barely noticed when Lester swept past them and into the hall.
Becker made himself comfortable in Connor's lab (which wasn't very comfortable at all, really) and said, "So, the two Lesters thing. Thoughts? Ideas?" As Connor opened his mouth to respond, Becker held up a hand. "No, wait. I don't care about your theories unless there's something useful in it. Useful to me."
Connor closed his mouth.
Becker sighed. "That's what I thought."
"I'm trying, I really am."
"I believe you. It's frustrating, that's all. I mean, have you got any idea what it's like? There are two James Lesters living in my flat." James' flat. Their flat. Whatever.
They let the solemnity of that statement hang in the air for a while, giving it the attention it was due. Then Connor said, "At least he cleans up after himself."
Becker didn't even dignify that with a response.
"Right. Well, I suppose it's good that no one imploded or disappeared or anything when they touched." Connor frowned. "Er, they have, right? Maybe if they haven't they shouldn't, just in case?"
Becker gave Connor a look. "They have already."
"Oh, okay." Suddenly Connor blushed to the roots of his hair. "Oh…"
"Christ, and James says my mind is in the gutter. Not like that." Not that Becker didn't want them to, but there was no need for Connor to know that.
Connor exhaled. "Thank God. But I feel like I need to soak my brain in a bucket of bleach anyway. That's an image I don't need, thanks. It's worse than that time I caught the two of you snogging."
"That was your fault," Becker reminded him. "Who goes into a locked room anyway? And besides, that one time does not come close to evening the scales; God only knows how many times I've had the unfortunate pleasure of stumbling upon you and Abby with various appendages in places they shouldn't be."
"Are we really going to have the 'no shagging at work' talk? Because, let me tell you, you are the last person who should be giving that talk. Jess will back me, I'm sure."
"That's debatable." Jess had the evidence, sure, but she liked Becker better than she liked Connor, and he wasn't even being self-centred in saying it. There were times (okay, many times) when the fact that she clearly regarded James and Becker's relationship as the most adorable thing she had ever seen came in quite handy.
And anyway, Becker didn't think he needed to apologise for needing to occasionally get his rocks off at work. There was a lot of adrenaline involved when you chased dinosaurs for a living and nearly got killed on a daily basis.
Plus James looked bloody gorgeous in his suits.
"It's really too bad I can't bring this to the boss," Connor said mournfully.
Becker bit down on his smirk and patted Connor on the shoulder. "Well, you could, and preferably tell me first so I can watch you do it."
There were definite perks to shagging the boss.
The more time went by, the better James and Lester got along. It was a bit scary, actually, in a way, and sometimes Becker thought he was outmatched. Sometimes Becker questioned the fact that he had ever wanted this at all, two Lesters to drive him up the wall. Sure, they were nice to look at, but they were also sodding irritating.
Becker made them all dinner once, when he'd been home early while James stayed late for a meeting. Something simple, chicken and veg and potatoes, but apparently he had managed to mess up simple.
James picked at his chicken, looking disgusted. "You've overcooked it, Hils."
"Well, pardon me. Perhaps if you hadn't been bothering me with all your moaning and complaining then I wouldn't have been distracted and I could have better prepared your meal to your satisfaction."
"There is nothing worse than a dried up chicken breast," Lester said, his expression closely mirroring that of James.
"Christ!" Becker exclaimed, only just stopping himself from a theatrical banging of the table for effect. "Go on then, maybe you should go and marry… I don't know, Nigella Lawson or something. I'm sure she'd never overcook your chicken."
"She looks better in a skirt, too."
"I don't know," James said thoughtfully. "Becker's got quite a good pair of legs, actually."
At Lester's considering look, Becker shoved his chair back and stood up, heat flaring in his cheeks. "I need a drink. You should have one too, maybe it'll help your dry chicken go down better."
"He's sulking," one of them said, but Becker knew without looking that it was James. "Don't sulk, pet."
Becker ignored him and left to grab a bottle of wine and three glasses, setting them on the table when he returned. Silently he poured three glasses, saving the largest one for himself. The two of them accepted their glasses wordlessly, far too much amusement in their green eyes.
"You can make your own dinner next time," Becker muttered.
Lester snickered into his glass but James got up, circling around the other side of the table to drape himself around Becker's shoulders. "I'm sorry for being rude and ungrateful, my love."
"You should be," Becker sniffed.
"Why don't you let me make it up to you?"
"I'm not sure you can." But Becker tilted his head to the side so James could kiss his neck.
"I'll let you use the strap," James murmured into his ear.
Becker perked up. "Really?" He leaned in so he could speak into James' ear. "Can I tie you to the bed, too?"
"If you want," James agreed, much more easily than he normally did.
Becker gave him the sort of kiss that wasn't suitable for company. Shortly there was the sound of Lester clearing his throat, reminding Becker that they did in fact have company. It was likely easier than it should have been to forget that Lester was still essentially a stranger, that he had no real place in their lives. Becker pressed one more soft kiss to James' mouth and pulled away.
James returned to his seat, saying, "And so peace is restored. I've always found it's best not to let hurt feelings linger."
"That seems a good practice," Lester said.
And, of course, it was, when James actually followed it. He was good about smoothing over little things like this but not always very good about the more important things. Not that Becker was any better.
James was sipping his wine but Becker was watching Lester's face and the myriad of emotions flickering across it. He was pretty sure that what he was seeing, before Lester caught himself, was not a small amount of envy. Becker felt uncomfortable noticing and looked down at his plate, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork.
"It is pretty bad," he admitted.
Becker and James were sitting on the sofa together one night, a half empty bottle of wine next to them, when Lester came in from… Well, from whatever it was he did when he wasn't in the flat or at the ARC. Becker never asked, as it wasn't his business.
Lester paused and looked at them, his expression inscrutable.
"Wine?" James offered.
"No, thank you," Lester said, shaking his head. "Don't let me intrude." He fixed his gaze straight ahead and walked past, heading in the direction of his bedroom. A few moments later a door was quietly shut.
Something twinged in Becker's gut and he shifted closer to James, letting their bodies press together. James slid his arm down from the back of the sofa to rest loosely around Becker's shoulders. "Do you think he'll ever get back?"
"I don't know, Hils. Connor is trying, but… I don't know."
Becker was silent for a while. As much as he had loved the idea of having two Lesters around, in actuality it was quite different. It wasn't some wet dream, it was another person's life. It was someone stuck, someone who couldn't get home to the people he cared about. Someone whom Becker cared about, in a way, because he shared more than simply the face of Becker's lover. In another life Becker could have loved him, too.
Maybe Becker loved him a little, anyway. "I think he's lonely."
"Yes," James said softly. "Yes, I think he is."
"Have you been to see Connor?" Becker asked as he walked into the ARC's break room and saw Lester sitting at the table. He didn't work at the ARC but he still dressed like he did, in suits James had had tailored for him to spare him the indignity of having to wear someone else's clothes. Perhaps the suits gave him a small bit of normality to cling to.
"Yes," Lester replied, a faint weariness in his voice.
"No good news, I take it?"
"I suppose that depends on whether you find no news to be good or bad."
Becker leaned his back against the counter and sipped his coffee. Bleurgh - it was cold. He turned around to pop it in the microwave. "Better than bad, but not good either."
"That's about my feeling, as well." Lester's eyes dropped to the table, face downcast.
Searching for something to say, Becker said, "I never asked, I just assumed… Are you married? Or seeing someone? James was married. He has kids."
"Yes, I assumed when I saw the photos." Lester's face had closed off in the way that Becker knew meant he was feeling poorly and didn't want anyone to know. It would never stop being strange how many of his mannerisms echoed James'. "I never had children. But I was married. She… my wife, she… She died. We weren't married long."
Shit. Why had he thought this would be a good topic of conversation? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's all right. It happened a long time ago."
Becker knew he should leave it alone, but something compelled him to keep talking. "So you... you aren't seeing anyone now?"
"I haven't really... I've found I have neither the time nor the energy to devote to a proper relationship."
"James used to say that, too. But you know he... Well, he's much happier now. It isn't a bad thing to admit that you're lonely."
"You don't know the first thing about me or my life."
"Maybe not," Becker admitted, but it didn't take a genius to see that Lester was lonely and that it wasn't only because he was stuck here. "But I think that-"
"Do you think that I could actually give a damn about what you think?" Lester spoke harshly and Becker simply stared at him, taking in the fierceness in his eyes. "I'm not him. Don't you get it? I can't help that I look like him, but I'm not him."
He drew himself to his feet, stature settling into that easy, almost regal bearing, back straight and chin lifted. He left before Becker could even say anything.
I know you're not, was perhaps what Becker would have said. I know you're not him.
The only problem was that Becker wasn't entirely sure the statement was true.
That night, Becker stretched himself lengthwise over James in the bed, the duvet bunched around their waists, and kissed James' face, small, teasing brushes to his cheeks and his jaw and his mouth. A sliver of moonlight was coming in through the curtains to break the darkness, making James' skin seem to glow.
"Hils," James said, his hands stroking over Becker's sides and down to his hips. "Tell me what's the matter."
"Nothing. Nothing's the matter."
James only said, "Hils," his lips curving into a frown Becker could feel rather than see.
"I'm sorry, that's all."
"Sorry for what?"
Becker pulled back but not enough so that they could see each other. He dropped his head into the crook of James' neck, breathing in the clean smell of his skin. "Sorry I made a joke of it all. It isn't a joke."
James didn't say anything right away, his hands skimming over Becker's back, and then he said, "That isn't what I thought. I never thought that; I knew you didn't really mean any of it."
"I'm sorry if I made you think…"
"Hush. Don't be sorry; there's nothing to be sorry about."
I know he isn't you, Becker thought desperately. He isn't you, I know that, I know he isn't, I never wanted him to be.
The silence lingered until Becker thought perhaps James had gone to sleep, his breathing so slow, but then he spoke again. "It's okay to feel something for him, anyway."
Becker didn't know how to feel or what to say; he didn't trust himself. So all he did was kiss James' neck and close his eyes. It was a long time before he fell asleep.
Two
The next day, it was like nothing had ever happened. Lester went on like they had never had that horribly awkward encounter and Becker was only too happy to go along with it. Still, at dinner, while James was out making nice with important people, Becker couldn't help but ask more about the world where Lester had come from.
Specifically, whether Becker's own counterpart had any romantic entanglements. What? He was curious.
"Danny? Really?" Becker pondered that for a moment and then decided he really didn't care to think about it. Then he realised what it meant. "The Danny in your world, you said he still…"
"Yes. He got lost."
"Oh." Becker remembered how miserable he had been, remembered the guilt he still carried, and couldn't imagine how bad it would have been if Danny had been more than his friend.
Lester was visibly hesitating and then he said, "I didn't want to say, because I don't know… I don't know how it will go for you, I don't know if you haven't discovered it yet or if it will be different, but… The Danny from my world, he isn't lost any more. He died."
"Shit," Becker swore. He wasn't even... That hadn't happened here. It hadn't. Danny was fine because he was Danny and Becker had to believe that. "I guess he... your Becker, that must be hard for him."
"I suppose so, yes."
Becker glanced askance at him. He didn't know why he was surprised at Lester being vague, but maybe he was simply used to having a Lester who was his best friend. It was strange to think that there was another Becker and Lester out there who barely spoke. He pushed his food around on his plate, a strange, miserable feeling settling in his gut. That Becker wasn't him but somehow Becker felt connected to him, anyway. He didn't like thinking about him in that other reality, sad and alone.
He didn't like thinking about this Lester being sad and alone, either.
"I know that that Becker," he started, "he isn't me, but he's close enough that I can make a pretty good guess as to what he's like. And I know… I know he must be lonely, and hurting, and he would never say it. I know that if you were to say something to him, he would be grateful for a friend."
"He has the others."
"It's not the same, is it? Some of them never even knew Danny, and Connor and Abby weren't there when it went to shit. I don't know Claudia and Ryan, but you said they were together? Then they have each other. It's different. You're different. Becker has no one, but he could have you."
Becker liked to think that he and James were a pretty good match. They fit together. Was it so wrong to think that this other Becker and Lester could fit, too? Even if only as friends. Becker was getting the idea that they were both a bit broken, Lester with his dead wife and Becker with his dead… Danny. Maybe they could help fix each other.
Lester looked almost scared, his eyes wide like a rabbit in headlights. "I'm not…"
"Just think about it, won't you? I'm not saying you should go up to him and ask him on a date or anything. I'm just saying that he could probably use a friend, and I think you could, too."
At first Becker thought he had gone too far again, overstepped, forgetting that this man sitting before him with the face of his lover wasn't his lover. Lester only sat there, though, motionless and quiet. He didn't seem angry, only… tired. So tired. Becker wanted to reach out but he knew he couldn't.
He isn't yours.
In the distance Becker heard the sound of the door, the rustling movement of James coming home and then his light footsteps across the floor. Becker turned to see him and watched him pause, taking in the heavy atmosphere of the room.
"Well," James said. "And here I thought my dinner was stifling."
Becker stood and went to him, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "You're back early."
"I begged off, said I had a migraine. I couldn't bear another moment with those simpering imbeciles."
"I'm glad you're home," Becker said and kissed him once more.
"I can tell," James said, eyebrow quirking. "Having a problem?"
Neither of them noticed Lester had got up until he was beside them, dishes in hand. "No problem. I'll clear up."
He was gone before anyone could say anything. "Becker," James said, frowning.
"It's all right," Becker insisted, even though he knew it wasn't.
He just didn't know exactly what it was that was wrong, or how to fix it. It seemed all he could do was make it worse.
Jess' kindness was unbearable sometimes, Becker thought. It was overwhelming, the heavy weight of her concern. He knew she only wanted to help; she always wanted only to help, because she cared. But when she came in to sit beside his desk Becker just wished she would leave.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Are you my therapist now?" Becker knew he sounded snippier than was warranted but he couldn't help it.
"If I were, you would be long overdue on your payments."
Becker tried to temper the harshness of his unfortunate bad mood with a weak attempt at humour. "Does chocolate count? I've bought you a lot of chocolate."
"I don't think so, no. Anyway the chocolate Lester brings me is far nicer than yours."
Taking a moment to be offended, Becker then said, "Lester buys you chocolate? Whatever for?"
"Does there need to be a reason? What's yours?"
Becker didn't answer. On occasion it was a thank you but just as often it was only because he liked to see Jess smile, and he certainly didn't want to tell her that.
The expression on Jess' face was as close to smug as she got. "I thought as much. I'm a loveable person, you know. People like to give me things."
Becker couldn't help his snort, but Jess only broke into a tiny smile. "I meant your Lester, by the way," she said. "The new one doesn't buy me chocolate. Not yet, at least."
"Yes, I assumed that's what you meant."
"You know that's why I asked, don't you? How you are?"
"Do I seem like I'm not okay?"
It was meant to be a brush-off, but instead Jess said, "Actually, yes, you do."
Becker looked away.
"Becker, you're living with your boyfriend and a man who looks like your boyfriend but isn't. It's okay to be not okay. Completely understandable, in fact."
"I was the one who asked him to stay with us, remember?"
"I do remember, but I think perhaps you hadn't given the matter the proper attention at that point. I imagine now you have."
"There's nothing wrong, Jess. I'm fine."
Jess' chest heaved with her breath. Becker was reminded of the way girls in fiction stamped their feet when they were angry. "You are so... stubborn! You're so bloody stubborn. You're obviously not fine and I wish you'd just admit it, I wish you'd talk to me. I wish you'd trust me enough to talk to me."
"What do you want me to say? That I liked the idea of having my lover's fucking double living in my flat? That I thought it would be a lark, some sort of fantasy scenario come to life? That now I look at him and he's just... he's just alone, and I want to help him because he looks like the man I love, but he isn't? That I'm fucking confused because sometimes I see them together and I can't even tell which is my James?" Becker paused for breath. "There, I talked. Are you happy now? Because I damn well don't feel any better."
Jess sat staring at him with wide eyes and then she said, "Oh, Becker. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Becker said, shifting his gaze away again, unable to stand the way Jess was looking at him. He felt her small hand slide into his, the innocuous gesture somehow tremendously comforting. "James told me he doesn't care if I feel something for him, the other him, but it still feels like I'm cheating on him, even if I haven't done anything."
Jess didn't say anything and it was better that way, because damned if Becker knew of any words that would help even the tiniest bit.
Becker came home to the soft murmur of voices and found James and Lester in the living room, standing in front of the mantelpiece. They were looking at the photos, the ones James kept of his children. James had that softness in his face that he only got when his kids were involved but it was Lester that Becker couldn't stop looking at. Lester with this sad, desperate loneliness in his eyes, his eyes that were just like James'. He looked full of a horrible longing that made Becker ache to see.
He wondered whether Lester and his wife (the wife Becker had never asked the name of because he couldn't, he couldn't) had ever talked about children before she had died. He wondered what sort of plans they had made together. He wondered how it must feel, to stand in the home of a person who looked like you, in a home filled with the vestiges of a life that had never been yours but might have been one you wanted.
James noticed Becker standing there and said, "You could have said something. It's slightly creepy to just stand there and not say anything."
"Hello to you, too, darling," Becker said.
Lester had managed to school his features back into neutrality but the echoes of all that emotion still lingered in his eyes. "I think I'll retire for the night," he said, and walked out.
When he'd gone, after they'd heard the sound of his door closing in the distance, Becker said quietly, "I don't think you should have shown him the pictures."
James was silent, his understanding of Becker's point writ clearly on his face, and then he said, "He asked me to."
Becker only nodded. Somehow, that didn't surprise him in the slightest.
James was reading a book, tucked into the corner of the sofa.
Becker sat down beside him, feeling utterly vile. "I don't feel well."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Want to help me feel better?" Becker lay down, resting his head in James' lap.
"What are you doing?"
"Just let me rest here a bit. Please? I'll feel so much better. I feel better already."
"Becker, I'm not-"
"Shush. I'll only be a minute, promise. Just let me..." Becker snuggled up against him, sighing in relief.
Finally James settled one hand on Becker's shoulder and the other in Becker's hair, petting him gently. If Becker had been more himself he probably would have questioned the hesitation and the tentativeness, but as it was he simply let himself drift into a light sleep.
He woke an indeterminate time later to the sound of voices. James' hand was still in Becker's hair but it had stopped moving and it sounded like Lester was apologising. Becker opened his eyes to see the way Lester was looking at him and through the dim haze he realised he'd made a mistake.
"Oh," he said.
"Indeed," James said. "Perhaps the next time you decide to use me as a pillow you could make sure it is, in fact, me."
"Sorry," Becker mumbled, shame-faced. He pushed himself up and away from Lester, his head pounding from the motion. "I feel terrible, I just wanted to sleep."
"Yes, I know, darling. That's why I'm putting you to bed." James bent to grasp Becker by the shoulders and pull him carefully to his feet, letting Becker lean into him when they were both standing. "I apologise again," he said to Lester. "He's really quite needy."
"Am not," Becker muttered half-heartedly.
Lester was only watching them, saying, "It's quite all right, truly. Feel better." Again, if Becker had been more himself, he might have wondered about the expression in Lester's eyes.
Instead, he merely let James guide him into the bedroom and tumble him down onto the bed. He was glad he'd stripped to his shirt and underwear earlier because he was certain he couldn't have mustered the energy to do it now.
Except, well, awkward. He'd been sleeping in his pants with his head in Lester's lap. He was such an idiot sometimes, it had to be a talent.
"Can I cuddle with you now?" Becker asked, entirely without shame, as he delved deep into the blankets.
James' mouth twitched but he got into bed, wrapping his arm around Becker as Becker curled contentedly into his chest.
"You're better at it, anyway," Becker assured him.
"Of course I am," James said and kissed the top of his head.
Becker knew it was wrong, but it didn't stop him doing it. Story of his life, really.
He arrived home and he could tell right away that no one had heard him, he could hear them talking and he could hear the way there wasn't even a break in their conversation. He hovered with his back to the wall, still and silent, and listened. He knew he shouldn't , he knew it was rude and terrible manners but he couldn't tear himself away.
"Of course we'll help you find somewhere, if that's what you need." Okay, that was James.
"Just like that? I ask for a place of my own and you'll get it for me? Do you have any idea what it would entail? In case you'd forgotten, England already has a James Peregrine Lester."
If Lester sounded testy, James was positively waspish. "Shockingly enough, I do recall that. What we also have is a Jessica Parker. Getting the papers you need won't be a problem. I'll even let you choose your own name."
"How dreadfully kind of you."
James sighed. "This is ridiculous. You can stay here; I assure you it isn't a problem. You can stay here until you find your way home."
"And if that doesn't happen? What then? That is entirely my point! You have a home here, with Becker, and I can't stay here forever."
"Christ, are you always so full of doom and gloom? It isn't the end of the world. Connor is working on your problem and, for all his faults, he is very good at what he does."
Lester's bitter laugh rang painfully in Becker's ears. "You have no idea, do you? You can't even fathom what it's like. This isn't my life; it's yours. It's all fucking yours and sometimes I can barely stand the sight of it!"
The silence was loaded and then James started to say, "If I'd-"
"Yes, fucking if this and fucking if that! My life was- And then there's you, with your precious Hils, and your nauseating pet names and your inside jokes and your obviously glorious sex life, and by the way, your walls are not soundproof. Your children's photos on the mantelpiece and the little things they've given you, the cards and the doodles, and then your ex-wife calls and I- I answered, I…" Lester's voice broke and Becker had the horrible feeling that he was close to crying.
He wanted to run over there and crush Lester in a hug, and he also wanted to run back out the door and pretend none of this had happened. He wanted to forget everything he'd heard and he wanted to find Connor and make him fix this, make him fix it right now.
James' voice was hushed. "My ex-wife? Oh, Christ. Was it… Was yours… Were you…"
"I didn't know until I saw her name and then I had to, I just had to hear her voice, you can't possibly…"
"Oh, dear."
There was nothing for a while, only the sound of Lester's faintly laboured breathing. Becker sank to his arse on the floor, leaning his head back. He felt sick.
"James." That was Becker's James again, his voice fierce. "You are entirely right, I can't understand. I won't insult you by trying. I also won't apologise for the life I've built here, because I'm proud of it and it was sodding difficult to get to this point, but I am sorry for any pain it causes you. I want you to know that I am going to do everything in my power to get you home. That is a promise and I think you know that that means something to me."
Silence again until Lester whispered, "Thank you."
"Will you stay here, just for a while longer? Of course I don't want you to be uncomfortable but nor do I want you to be… Well, to be alone."
"Yes, all right. For a while, anyway."
Becker couldn't bring himself to move for some time and he simply sat there in the hall, not sure of what to feel. When he finally got up, realising that he couldn't hide all night, it was to find James and Lester sitting side-by-side, their hands loosely linked. They didn't move when Becker came in and he wasn't sure he had ever been so happy to see people holding hands in his life.
He sat on Lester's other side and said, "Well, hello, everyone. Having a good evening?"
James caught his eye, his expression disapproving and managing to convey, You aren't fooling anyone, with the tilt of his eyebrow.
Oh, busted. He was in for an earful.
"Becker! Becker, wait up!"
Becker stopped and turned around, watching Connor run down the corridor.
Connor came to a halt, panting slightly. "Remember how you said to tell you if I had any theories that were useful to you? Because I think I might do."
Becker felt like his skin was prickling all over and he held his breath, waiting for Connor to go on.
"I think I might know how we can get Lester home. I've been working on something, about anomalies that go to parallel universes, like the one Cutter must have gone through, and I think I might know how Lester got here. If I'm right, then he can get back the same way he came."
"Christ," Becker muttered. "Connor, are you sure?"
Connor winced. "See, that's the thing. I'm really, really not. That's why it's a theory. But I'm closer than I've been. I honestly think it might work. Except, you know, it'd be a lot of waiting for the right anomaly. I can't open them, you know I can't."
I won't, his face said, and Becker wasn't going to argue with that.
Still, though. "That isn't good enough." At Connor's crestfallen look, Becker backtracked. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry. It's brilliant news and I know you're doing your best. But what am I supposed to tell him, maybe we can help you but maybe we can't? We can maybe get you home but just as likely you're still stuck here?"
"Yeah, I get your point." Connor brushed his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more than it already had been. "I won't say anything, not unless it's definite. And I'll tell you first."
"Thanks," Becker said and went on down the corridor. His steps felt heavier already, weighted with news he wanted to be glad about but that somehow only worried him more. If this didn't pan out, what did that mean for Lester? It was harder and harder to hope with every day that went by.
Becker slammed James against the wall, kissing all along his jaw. He didn't know what had got into him but he needed something. He needed something to make him stop thinking about Lester, he needed something to lose himself in, and he figured there wasn't anything better than James.
"We shouldn't do this here."
"Mmm, probably," Becker agreed, licking James' neck. "Want me to stop?"
"Don't," James gasped, his nails sinking into the skin of Becker's waist. "Don't you fucking dare stop."
Becker chuckled and rocked his hips forward.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," said a voice from behind them.
They both froze and Becker dropped his head down onto James' shoulder. Shit, shit, shit. It figured, it bloody well figured. He reluctantly turned around, having enough decency to feel slightly embarrassed at the state he was in and at Lester having to see them like this.
"Terribly sorry," James was saying. "We shouldn't have… We didn't think you were…"
"No, it's my fault," Lester protested, eyes slightly averted like he couldn't bear looking at them. "It's your home and I'm only… I'm only intruding and you shouldn't have to worry about me. I shouldn't be here."
Something felt like it was seizing in Becker's chest and it actually pained him to see Lester like this, to hear him. He took a step away from James and towards Lester. "Don't ever say that. You're welcome here."
"Because I have nowhere else to go! I don't belong here."
Becker glanced back at James and knew that whatever he did, it would be okay. He moved forward again and grabbed Lester's hands. "You do belong here," he said, willing Lester to believe it. "We want you here, with us. We want you to have… whatever you want."
There was something like fear sparking in Lester's eyes, but something like want also. "You don't…"
Becker held his hands tighter. "Anything you want. With us. We want you to be happy." He wished he knew how to say what he truly meant.
"I didn't think…" Lester swallowed convulsively. "I didn't think I ever could be, not here. But I see you and I… it makes me…"
He fell silent and Becker didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.
Which was when James said, "I think it's time we went to bed, love."
Becker looked at him, and James smiled a little and nodded, before walking away. He looked back at Lester. "Please," he said. "If it's what you want. It's what we want." He let go of Lester's hands and instead held one hand out in an invitation, so that it would only be Lester's choice.
Lester took his hand.
Three
When Becker woke up, it took him a moment to get his head straight, for the events of the previous night to sink back in. When they did, he groaned. Bugger, what the hell had he been thinking?
Not that it hadn't been amazing, because, really, amazing.
"All right, love?" came James' soft voice and Becker realised he wasn't the only one awake.
He moved carefully, as apparently it was the still sleeping Lester spooned up against him, until he could see James looking down at him. "Yeah, just... We really did that, huh?"
James chuckled. "It would appear so."
Becker pushed himself into an upright position, propping his back against the pillows. Lester shifted a little but he appeared to be sleeping soundly. Becker started idly stroking a hand through his hair, soothingly. "This is kind of messed up."
Shrugging, James said, "I suppose it depends on your perspective."
"I just wanted him to have something that was real. Does that make any sense? He was so... sad, you know?"
"Yes." James wasn't looking at Becker any more; he was looking at Lester sleeping there peacefully next to them, his features much more relaxed than they ever were awake.
"Connor said he might be able to get him home."
James glanced up, startled. "What?"
"Connor said he isn't sure, it's still only a theory. I didn't tell him; I didn't want to get his hopes up for nothing."
"Whatever you think is best," James said, lightly running his hand over Becker's bare skin.
Becker sighed. He wished people would stop leaving things up to him. He wasn't at all sure his decisions were any good.
It turned out that the morning after wasn't nearly as awkward as it could have been. Lester woke up and he was… He was Lester, confident and sarcastic.
And happy. He was happy and that was really all Becker had wanted, for his eyes to look less haunted and for him to smile.
James had been in the shower and he came out wrapped in a towel, his hair still damp. "I'll make breakfast," he offered, dropping the towel without embarrassment and getting dressed.
"You can have the shower, if you like," Becker said. "I'll probably go for a run so I'll just take one later."
"How disgustingly healthy of you," Lester said as he got up. "Haven't you burned enough calories?"
"Not if James is making a fry-up."
"James is," came the answer, faintly muffled as James pulled his shirt over his head.
"All right then." Lester bent down to grab James' towel and said, "I'll take this for you."
"Thanks," James said and snagged Lester's waist, pulling him in for a kiss that Lester looked as surprised by as Becker was.
Lester was smiling when James released him, though, and he said, "I always suspected I must be a fabulous kisser. I am glad to have it confirmed."
James smiled back at him, perfectly matched in their mutual smugness, and Becker would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so blindingly happy. Also kind of turned on, again. Was it okay to admit that?
"We might be able to get you home," Becker blurted out and then bit his tongue. Fuck, fuck, oh fucking hell. He should have gone for the sex thing, he really should have.
Lester stood there blinking at Becker, his arm still slung about James' hips. "I beg your pardon?" he said eventually.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't going to tell you, Connor doesn't even know for sure if he's on the right track. I didn't want to give you false hope."
But Lester stepped towards the bed again, pressing one knee into the mattress and smacking a long kiss to Becker's lips. "Thank you," he said. "Any hope is more than I could have asked for. Thank you for… for all of it." He moved away from Becker and back to James, kissing him, too. "Thank you," he repeated and went into the bathroom.
The bedroom fell into silence. Becker kind of wanted to shoot himself in the foot. He felt like he already had anyway, figuratively speaking. He felt like the world's biggest arsehole. Now what would happen, if Connor's theory didn't work? It would break Lester, it really would.
"You do know how to bugger things up, don't you, sweetheart?" James said.
Becker only sighed and fell back against the pillows.
Only a short time ago, Becker wouldn't have believed it if you'd told him that he would find seeing Lester so cheerful rather upsetting. All he had wanted was to wipe the wretchedness from Lester's expression, to make him feel like he belonged even if he was far from home. There were people, like Jess, who were nurturing by nature. Becker was not one of those people and yet he had wanted fervently to be able to take care of Lester.
Now Lester was walking around with a bounce in his step. Apparently there really wasn't anything like hope for making the days seem brighter.
Yet Becker felt only guilty. He felt guilty for giving Lester that hope when he knew it could all come crashing down. He felt guilty for giving Lester something to lean on that was weak and slender as a twig.
"Stop torturing yourself," James told him. "Whatever happens is going to happen and there's no use making yourself miserable waiting for it."
Becker knew he should listen. He should always listen to James but he had this problem. Believe it or not, he was kind of stubborn. It was hard to make himself stir from the path he'd set down upon.
Particularly when he didn't want to. He was fine, wallowing in his own guilt. Fine, truly. He deserved it. He was the one who hadn't been able to keep his damned mouth shut.
"You're an idiot," James said once, while Becker was in a nice sulk, and kissed him on the forehead.
"Ta," Becker said, and went on sulking.
There was a rerun of Doctor Who on TV. James took one look at it and pronounced that his nerves couldn't take watching David Tennant angsting all over the place at the moment and retreated into the study. Becker and Lester sat watching it together in silence.
About halfway through, Lester said, "You're lucky to have what you do, you know."
Becker turned to the side to see him but Lester was staring rigidly forward at the TV. "I do know," he said, not quite sure what was going on.
"Sometimes when I see the two of you together it makes me want things," Lester went on. "Things I didn't think were mine to have any more. I suppose that's why I..." He stopped, cleared his throat, and started again. "Do you know what I thought when I woke up in your bed? I thought that it had been so long since I'd woken up with another person I couldn't even remember what it felt like."
Unfortunately, it was a sentiment Becker could understand all too well. For some time before James, his love life had consisted mostly of a series of shags in strangers' flats and alleys behind clubs, quick fucks that rarely made it to a morning after. He also knew that what Lester considered a long time was likely a lot longer than Becker's idea of it.
"You're a lot like him. The Becker I know."
Becker didn't say anything. He was getting the impression that Lester just needed to talk.
"You remind me of how he was with Danny. When he first came to the ARC, it was like watching someone in a mask. He kept himself so distant, showing only glimmers of the man he was underneath. Then Danny came and everything was different. I thought at first that they would surely end up killing each other, but Danny got him to loosen up. He smiled and laughed and made jokes, he chased Danny all over the ARC. But then Danny got lost and Becker threw himself into the ARC, into trying to find him." Lester swallowed, still staring straight ahead at the TV but looking like he was a million miles away. "When Danny died, Becker tried to quit but I wouldn't let him. It got ugly, but he stayed. I wanted him to go on temporary leave but he refused. He's never really been the same since. I tried to... I suppose you can imagine. I'm not very good at comfort. I never knew what to do."
"I'm sure he appreciated you trying," Becker said finally, when Lester remained silent. "I'm sure he was glad to know that you cared."
Lester met Becker's eyes for the first time. "Don't you get it? He doesn't know that. I never could... We're not like you, we're not friends, we're not..." He exhaled, eyes dropping to the sofa cushions.
"That's okay. No matter what happened, or didn't, that doesn't have to be the end of it. We're going to get you home and then you'll be free to change whatever you want."
Lester nodded tightly. "Of course. You're right, of course. I only..." He was quiet for a long stretch of time and then said in a low voice, "I didn't realise how much I would miss him. And then you... Well, I miss him."
Becker squeezed Lester's knee and then released him. "I'm sure he misses you, too."
They each focused back on Doctor Who but Becker didn't think either of them was paying much attention to it. All he could think about was how much he wanted to curl around James in their bed and not let go.
"I think I've done it," Connor said breathlessly, looking like he'd run all the way from his lab to Becker's office. "I think I can get him back."
The room felt suddenly chilled but perhaps that was only because Becker's heart had stopped working for a moment. "You think, or you know?"
"I… I can't say one hundred percent, these things are-"
"Connor."
Connor stopped and drew himself together. "I'm as close to being certain as I can be and I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do."
Becker leaned his elbows on his desk and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face. This was it, this was their shot. All in and if it didn't work…
"Becker?" Connor sounded anxious.
Becker looked at him, forcing a measure of gratitude into his expression. Because he was, he was grateful, without Connor they'd have had no chance at all. They'd have had nothing more than luck and Becker had learned long ago that relying purely on luck only got you dead, more often than not. "Thank you, Connor, I mean it. I suppose there'd be no use in you explaining it to me?"
"I thought about it, but you always get that deadened look in your eyes when I start talking about science."
This time Becker didn't have to force anything. He smiled. "Look at that. You're learning."
Becker told James the news as they were heading home for the evening. "I hope Connor's right," was all he said and he looked the way Becker felt.
Lester was at home when they arrived. Figuring there was no point in wasting any time, Becker walked up to him and said simply, "You're going home. Connor says he can do it, he says he's as sure as he'll ever be."
The seconds stretched on as Lester failed to have any reaction at all, as he stood there doing nothing. And then he fell against Becker, seizing him in a hug that Becker was almost too stunned by to reciprocate.
"Hey," he said, patting Lester on the back awkwardly. "You're going to make me think you don't like us or something."
Lester's breath huffed against Becker's neck and he pulled away. "Of course that isn't true, you know I appreciate everything, I only… You can't…"
"It's all right," James said, drawing closer. "We understand perfectly."
Lester nodded at him. "Well, I suppose… I suppose this is nearly the end, then."
"It seems so."
"Let me cook dinner for you," Lester offered, more eager than Becker had ever seen him. "To… to… Because I'd like to."
Becker squeezed his shoulder. "That would be wonderful, thank you."
As Lester disappeared into the kitchen, Becker exchanged a concerned glance with James. His thought from the morning after their, er, their tryst recurred. If they didn't get Lester home, he was going to break, and Becker didn't know if they'd ever be able to fix him.
The ADD went off while Becker was talking to Jess in the hub. Her fingers flew over the controls and then she turned a wide-eyed gaze onto Becker. "I think it's the right one. It's in the same spot where Lester came through."
Becker couldn't say anything at all and instead went sprinting for James' office. Lester had taken to spending most of his time at the ARC, waiting for his anomaly to reappear, and he was sitting in front of James' desk at precisely that moment.
Twin pairs of green eyes focused on him as he banged through the door. "It's Lester's anomaly," he announced. "It reappeared."
Neither of them moved and then they both stood up at once. "What are we waiting for?" James asked. "Go on, get a move on. Both of you."
Becker only stood there, waiting, and Lester walked around the desk, holding out his hand. "Of course I can't leave without a goodbye."
"Don't get sentimental on me now."
Lester's face was completely open, his emotions laid bare. "Thank you for inviting me into your home, into your life," he said. Into your bed, hung in the air, unspoken.
James gripped Lester's hand in both of his. "I expect you would have done the same for me."
"One would hope so." Lester cleared his throat. "Well, yes, let's not make this too embarrassing." He strode out of the room.
Becker nodded at James and followed after, heading in the direction of the armoury for his kit.
Jess said goodbye before they left, her eyes suspiciously bright as she hugged Lester tightly. "Take care of yourself, all right? And I, well, I hope I never see you again, if you know what I mean."
Lester was smiling at her with a surprising amount of fondness. "I understand. You know, I do believe that I will be looking up a Miss Jessica Parker when I return home. Perhaps she'd fancy a new job."
Jess beamed at him. "She sounds brilliant already."
They piled into the vehicles, Lester in the front seat next to Becker. He didn't say a word the entire drive and Becker didn't even bother trying to engage him. Sometimes words weren't anything but a hindrance.
The anomaly was, happily, in a relatively deserted little stretch of forest. On their walk from the vehicles to the appropriate spot, they didn't encounter anything, creature or person. As they got closer, they could see the shining light through the trees.
Becker stopped first and said, somewhat inanely, "Here we are." He directed his team to fan out around it, just in case.
Lester was just staring at the anomaly, looking sort of shell-shocked, like he couldn't believe it was actually there, his possible doorway home.
Connor took some readings and announced, "Everything's right, this should be right. This should get you home, it should take you back to your proper universe."
"I'm going to go through with you," Becker said. "I want to make sure it's safe."
"I don't believe that's necessary," Lester protested and then took a few steps back and away from the anomaly as the noise of something coming through began to fill the area. Several somethings, by the sound of it.
Becker raised his EMD and said, "Nobody shoots until I say!"
A black-clad figure strode through, scanning the place with perfect military efficiency, closely followed by several more similarly garbed men.
Becker gaped into his own face, seeing his disbelief mirrored on familiar features. Well, bugger. He supposed now he knew how James must have felt.
He eyed the interloper up and down. Could he have been using more hair gel, really? Becker immediately nicknamed him 'poncey Becker' in his head. Then he made a note to review his own hair care practices. No reason.
"Lester? Sir?" poncey Becker asked. "Are you…"
"It's me, Captain," Lester said. "I would appear to have somehow wandered into an entirely different universe. Who would have thought?"
"Another universe?"
"Okay, no way," Connor broke in. "How are you here? How the hell did you know where and when to be?"
"ADD went off, it was the same anomaly Lester disappeared through," poncey Becker said, never lowering his weapon. "We aren't idiots."
Lester moved forward, laying his hand on that Becker's shoulder. "It's all right. There is no need to shoot anyone, I assure you."
For a long moment poncey Becker merely held his gaze, but finally he nodded and lowered the EMD. To his men, he said, "Wait for us on the other side. I'll bring him back."
A man Becker didn't recognise saluted and said, "You got it, boss," and then led the way back through the anomaly.
Becker followed suit in dropping his weapon and then shamelessly eavesdropped on their soft conversation.
"Are you okay?" poncey Becker was asking. "You were gone for months, has it been months for you?"
Lester nodded. "It would appear time passed the same for all of us."
"We were afraid that you… We had no idea what happened to you. They were starting to think the worst."
"They were, but not you?"
Poncey Becker's face softened. "I kept telling everyone you're tougher than you look."
Lester looked pleased by that, his stature straightening the tiniest bit.
"I'm going to take you home now, sir," poncey Becker said in a tone that brooked no argument, and Lester smiled bigger than Becker had ever seen.
"Yes, let's do that," he said. Turning to everyone else, he went on, "Well, I suppose this is goodbye. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure." Lester shook everyone's hand in turn and then paused in front of Becker, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
So Becker spoke for him. "Remember what I told you?"
Lester's eyes flickered to the other Becker as he nodded. "Yes."
"Okay." Becker started to extend his hand and then thought, what the hell. He didn't care what the others would say. There were some things you just needed to do, damn everyone else. He cupped his hands around Lester's face and kissed him on the lips, soft and chaste, and then murmured, "I always thought you were hot. I bet he does, too."
When Becker drew back, he ignored everyone but poncey Becker. He let his eyes fall on him, judging his reaction. The man looked… spooked, perhaps. Stunned, his eyes large in his face and his hands tensing into fists at his sides. That was definitely some anger, there.
Okay, that was good. Maybe this Becker liked Lester already, more than he knew.
Somehow Becker didn't even feel weird about the fact that he was playing matchmaker with another version of himself. Weirdness was generally par for the course at the ARC.
Poncey Becker moved closer to Lester in a blatantly possessive act, glaring at Becker. "We're leaving now," he said, grinding his teeth a bit.
"The guard dog routine is unnecessary," Lester said, though if Becker knew him at all, he was enjoying it.
"Just go through, will you?"
Lester waited just long enough so that everyone could be certain that he was going through by his own choice, not because anyone had said so. Then he marched straight through, never once looking back.
Poncey Becker's eyes never left Lester's back until he disappeared completely through the anomaly, and then he faced Becker again. His face contorting as if it was causing him some pain, he said, "Thank you for looking out for him."
"It was my pleasure," Becker said, smiling slyly in a way he knew his counterpart would immediately understand.
Understand he did, if the tension in his jaw was any indication. His nod was utterly forced and he turned around to face the anomaly.
"Hey," Becker said, waiting until he had poncey Becker's full attention again. "You missed him, right?"
The only answer he received was a blank, vaguely hostile stare. Becker felt suddenly regretful for everyone he'd been in contact with in the early days of his posting at the ARC.
He continued gamely, "You should tell him so, if you did. That's my advice, anyway, take it or leave it. But you should take it."
A pause again until poncey Becker said, a glimmer of amusement finally sparking in his eyes, "I think I understand now why everyone always complains about me being cocky and annoying."
"But you're always right anyway, yeah?"
Poncey Becker grinned. "Yeah, always am." He raised his hand in farewell and followed Lester through.
"Lock it down," Becker said and wondered why he felt sad.
When everything was over and they had all returned to the ARC, Becker went to find James in his office. "It's done," he said.
"Yes, that's what I understood from Jess. She seemed to think it went well."
"Could've done without poncey Becker's presence, but, yes. It went as smoothly as we could have hoped for."
James arched an eyebrow. "Poncey Becker?"
Becker fidgeted. "It's what I called him. In my head. It was confusing."
James was very close to smiling. "You don't say."
Eager to change the subject, Becker said, "I suppose things will start returning to normality around here now."
"Are you okay with that?"
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing. I just thought perhaps you might miss him."
If Becker was being honest, he'd admit that he missed the other Lester a little already, but he knew that this was the way things should be. Everyone home, where they belonged, with the people they belonged with. "Oh, well, yes, I suppose I will. But really, one James Lester is all I can handle."
James' mouth quirked slightly. "You seemed to handle him quite well."
Becker broke into a full-out grin. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? But he was never going to be you, so..." He shrugged.
The tension oozed out of James' bearing. "It's for the best he's gone, I think. I'm not proud of the level of narcissism exhibited by our relationship."
For whatever reason, that simple statement and the way James said it could make Becker think nothing but, I love you, God, I love you so fucking much. Everything about him, warts and all. What he actually said aloud, though, was, "I kind of liked it, myself."
"Your mind frightens me sometimes."
"Hasn't seemed to put you off me."
"Not yet."
"I'm sure you'll let me know when it does," Becker said, fully confident that he needn't worry about that. "Let's go someplace nice for dinner tonight. Just the two of us."
"All right, I'll finish up early."
"And maybe after, we can enjoy having the flat to ourselves again." Becker felt a little bit like taking his time about it, making love slowly, worshipping every inch of James because he could. Because James was his.
James laid his hand on the desk, palm up, and Becker took it, raised it higher and bent over it and kissed his knuckles because they were at work and he couldn't kiss James the way he wanted to. "I believe you'll find that I am quite on board with that suggestion."
Becker turned James' hand over and kissed the palm and then simply held James' hand in his. He was religious only in the loosest sense but he said a silent prayer for that other Lester and Becker anyway. He hoped that, whatever happened, they would be as happy as he was.
End