"I can't get it in!" Hawke moaned.
"Try moving to the left, just a little bit. Yeah, that's better... " Andrew encouraged him. "Now, push harder!"
"Like that?"
"Harder…"
Gareth let out a little grunt of exertion. A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead, and landed, with a tiny splash, on Andrew's arm.
"That's it, right there… that's perfect."
"Fuck, it keeps coming out again!
"You're not very good at this, are you?" Andrew smirked.
Hawke sighed and sat back on his heels, screwdriver in one hand and the broken table leg in the other. "I don't see why you can't just get a new one," he complained.
"Because I'm not made of money?"
Andrew crawled out from between the legs of the upside down table to plant a kiss on his lover's lips.
"Coffee breath!" Hawke warned.
"I don't care."
He traced the curve of Gareth's lips with the tip of his tongue, felt them part eagerly beneath his touch, and then pressed himself against the length of Gareth's body, running his hands down his thighs and back up again to cup his arse, pulling him closer.
"Is that a screwdriver in your pocket?" he whispered, with a lopsided little smile, "or are you just…"
"No, it really is a screwdriver. But I've got a massive hard on too, if you're interested in investigating further."
"How could I resist an invitation like that?" Andrew grinned and lunged at Hawke, knocking him off balance and rolling on top of him. "Not here..." Gareth protested. "Last time we did it on the floor I had carpet burns on my arse for a week."
"You're such a lightweight." Andrew chuckled, but he got to his feet, pulling Hawke up after him and almost dragging him into the tiny bedroom, where they collapsed on top of the unmade bed.
For a second, neither of them moved. They lay there, their reflections caught in each others eyes.
Hawke was always trying to come up with new ways to describe the colour of Andy's eyes, making his lover laugh by telling him they were like dark honey, like soft golden caramel, or fine malt whiskey. Now though, they were dark and hungry, the pupils like black holes, empty of everything but desire. Looking into them, Gareth felt a tidal wave of need surge through him.
He'd wanted Andrew from the first moment he saw him, and six weeks of sharing a bed with the man had only seemed to make his longing more even urgent.
There were times when he could think of nothing else, when he'd be doing something ordinary - working out at the gym, or sitting through a boring meeting - and an image or a memory of Andrew would flash into his head, and he'd catch his breath, overcome by a rush of wanting that left him dizzied and reeling.
Andrew looked sweaty and dishevelled from their attempts at DIY. And totally, irresistibly, fuckable, Gareth thought, as he pulled Andy's white T shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor. Beneath it, the nurse's body was lean and pale, almost smooth, apart from the little line of hair, darker than that on his head, that trailed down his taut belly to disappear below the waistband of his scruffy sweatpants.
Hawke pulled his lover to him, nibbling gently at his throat and ears, and feeling him squirm beneath him. Andy's 's hand was down the front of his jeans, cupping Gareth's balls and then stroking the length of his cock firmly through the white cotton of his underwear, until he felt he might burst. He reached down to grab his lover's wrist.
"Not like this." His voice was thick. "I want to come inside you..."
"Oh God, yes, please..." Andrew was tugging at his clothes now, wrestling them over his hips and pulling Gareth down on top of him. Hawke reached down to the floor beside the bed, fumbling blindly for the container of lube he'd dropped there the night before. His fingers closed around the tube and he squirted the silky cold substance into the palm of his hand, smoothed it across Andy's arse, slowly working one finger into his opening, and then another.
"Oh," Andy gasped. "Gareth, fuck... I want..."
His nails dug into the skin on Hawke's back, hard enough to hurt, as Gareth plunged into him in one slow, smooth thrust, burying himself deeply.
It felt like nothing else on earth.
"Andy..."
"Mmm..."
"It's... I can't..." He wanted to tell Andrew how glorious it was, but the words wouldn't even form coherently in his head. Instead, he asked "Does that feel good, sweetheart?"
"...feels so good, Gareth. I love you fucking me." Andrew arched his hips. He brought his legs up to wrap them around his lover's waist, pulling him in tight. With each thrust, the bed creaked violently, and the headboard thudded against the wall. Andy moaned loudly and shut his eyes, hands clutching at the sheets and pillow, bunching them in his fists as he desperately sought something to hold on to. His cock jerked in Gareth's hand, and he shuddered and let out a little cry as his come spurted over Hawke's fingers and onto his stomach and chest.
Gareth ran his fingers through the thick, pearly, liquid, and then raised them to Andrew's face, smearing come across the other man's lips.
"Oh, that's lovely. You're so lovely," he murmured, as Andy's tongue, pale and pointed as a cat's, flicked over his palm. The sight of it brought him to the edge. He grabbed hold of Andrew's skinny hips, his fingers digging into the tender flesh as he thrust deeply into his lover's body, emptying himself into him.
They kissed, their lips raw, their mouths hot and clumsy. Neither of them wanted it to be over, but eventually it was, and they lay in each other's arms, Andy's blond head pillowed on Gareth's chest, a thin film of sweat forming between their bodies.
"Don't get too comfortable," Hawke warned Andy. "You've got to be at work in an hour, remember?"
"Bugger work. I want to stay in bed all day, with you."
They were interrupted by a soft mewling sound, as Pounce jumped up onto the bed and tiptoed across their chests.
"Baby!" Andrew scooped the cat up in his arms, rubbing his cheek against the soft gingery fur.
"Pounce wants to stay in bed too, don't you Pounce?" He took the cats paw in his hand and waved it at Gareth. "See, that means yes. It's how he communicates."
Hawke shoved him gently with his elbow. "Come on - shower, now! I'll make some tea while you get yourself sorted..."
"Yes sir, right away sir!"
Andy leapt out of bed and headed for the bathroom, and Gareth reluctantly got up too, leaving Pounce to settle, purring, into the warm space where their bodies had been.
From the kitchen, Gareth could hear Andy singing some sort of cheesy show tune over the roar of the shower.
He waited for the kettle to come to the boil, sorting through the slightly eccentric collection of mugs in the cupboard beneath the sink and finally settling on one with a cartoon alien on it, and another that said Boy Magnet. When he poured the tea, his hands trembled, just a little, at the thought of what he was planning to do.
He'd had it all worked out in his head earlier, exactly what he wanted to say, but now his mind was suddenly blank.
It's too soon, He thought, panicking. I'm just going to make myself look sad and desperate. He'll laugh his bloody arse off...
Andrew appeared in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, wet hair clinging to his face, and Gareth forgot how to breathe.
Don't think too much, he told himself. Just do it, now.
"I wanted you to have this," he said.
He reached out and took the blond man's hand, pressed something cold and silver against his palm.
"What is it?"
"I thought, maybe... you might like to move in with me."
Andrew examined the key as if he'd never seen one before and couldn't quite work out what it did. Then his fingers curled into a fist around it, gripping it tightly.
He didn't say anything, and Gareth began to feel flustered.
"I mean, it makes sense," he went on. "You're struggling to pay the bills, and I'm all on my own in that big house... And I'd really like it."
Andy looked up, his amber eyes indecipherable.
"What about Pounce?" he asked.
"Pounce too, of course."
"Spike won't eat him?"
Hawke laughed. "Spike will probably think he's a puppy and adopt him! You know what he's like."
"Gareth, I don't know what to say..."
Andy did that fragile little smile of his, the one that hovers at the corner of his mouth briefly, as if he doesn't quite trust it enough to let it hang around. The one that always made Gareth want to kiss him, to see if he could taste it there on his lips.
"It's ok, you don't have to say anything now. The offer's there. Promise me you'll think about it?"
"I won't be able to think about anything else!"
He shoved the key down deep into the pocket of his jeans, and imagined he could feel it there, glowing , like something with magical powers.
~0~
As Andrew made his way across the park towards the hospital, he couldn't help smiling. The skin on his face felt raw from Gareth's stubble, and his arse was pleasantly sore. Hawke's key was in the pocket of his shabby brown leather jacket now, and he kept one finger hooked through the metal ring as he walked, reluctant to let go of it for even a second.
Gareth Hawke was the best thing to ever happen to him. He seemed to represent everything that was missing in Andrew's life - strength, kindness, a sense of calm. Not to mention the sort of body you usually only saw in magazines.
Even his bad jokes were somehow endearing.
Andrew had never dared to imagine he would meet someone who could make him feel like this. He was, he thought, happier than he'd ever been before. So why did he suddenly feel so uneasy?
He wouldn't have imagined it was possible to experience two such conflicting emotions at the same time, but there it was - the itch at the back of his skull, the queasy, lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach. The old, familiar, instinct that urged him to run.
He'd spent most of his life running away, from one thing or another. When it came to the choice between fight or flight, he'd picked flight so often it was a wonder he hadn't started sprouting feathers.
I'm such a fucking loser, he thought. I'm panicking because someone actually likes me! Because he won't want me when he realises what a bloody mess I am, and I already feel like I can't breathe without him...
His fingers tightened around the key in his pocket.
He broke into a run.
~0~
Gareth glanced at the clock on his laptop and sighed. It was almost half one. Andrew's shift had finished at ten, and he usually called as soon as he got in. He guessed there'd probably been some sort of emergency at work, but couldn't help feeling slightly wounded all the same. He'd thought maybe Andrew would turn up unannounced - letting himself in casually with the key Gareth had given him, as if the place was already his home.
He hadn't admitted to himself just how much he wanted that.
During the weeks since they'd first met, the only times they'd slept apart had been when Andrew was working nights. He was used to falling asleep beside him, now, waking up tangled together, with Andy's hair in his face and his arms wrapped around him.
Gareth thought back to the first time they'd shared a bed. They'd both been awake all night, and to Hawke, dosed up on painkillers, the sex had felt druggy and unreal, like something in a dream. Those first few times, Andy had been so sweet and gentle, so afraid of hurting his broken rib, that Gareth could never have guessed he would turn out to be such an intensely passionate lover.
He was so caught up thinking about Andy that, when his phone rang, he jumped a little.
Fen's name flashed up on the screen.
It's not him... he thought, with a little twinge of disappointment.
"Hey."
Fen's beautiful voice, like smoke and bitter chocolate.
"Hawke? I'm in the Rose. Your boyfriend's here - I think you should probably come and get him."
"What do you mean?" Hawke asked. "Is Andy all right?"
As he spoke, he realised he was already standing up, searching for his car keys.
"He's all right now, but I give it maybe five minutes before he really pisses someone off and gets himself into trouble."
"What are you on about?" He grabbed a jacket and managed to get his left arm through the sleeve, then fumbled with the right arm and his phone. "Never mind, you can tell me when I get there."
He slammed the door shut behind him and, jacket still only half on, hurried out into the dark.
~0~
When Gareth reached the bar, Fen was leaning against the wall just inside the entrance, waiting for him. He was dressed, as usual, completely in black, and the dramatic combination of dark clothes, pale hair and olive complexion was stunning.
"Hawke."
Fen never addressed Gareth by his first name. Gareth had no idea why - it was just one of his affectations. He was a complete poser, really. Gareth suspected he only got away with it because he was so good-looking.
"What's going on, Fen? Where's Andrew? Is he ok?"
The smaller man nodded towards the back of the bar, where Hawke could just about make out the copper-blond of Andy's hair through the crowd.
"He's off his face, and being an absolute arsehole. I really don't know what you see in him."
The words stung, but Gareth didn't want to fall out with his friend. He forced a smile.
"You're just jealous," he joked.
Fen raised an eyebrow, which was about as expressive as he ever got.
At that moment, Andrew spotted them and waved. "Gareth!" he shouted. "We've been having cocktails!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you..." Fen muttered, as Gareth headed over to towards the other side of the bar.
Andrew sat with his arm draped around the neck of a brown-haired boy in a striped T-shirt. His face was flushed, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"I just had something called a Blow Job, " he giggled. "It made me feel a bit sick, actually."
"This is Jamie," he added, patting the boy's knee. "He's going to show me his tattoo. I bet he'd show you too, if you ask nicely. D'you wanna see it? "
Gareth shook his head. "I'm all right, thanks."
Andrew pulled a face. "You're no fun…."
Jamie sniggered, and Hawke noticed the faint red mark at the base of the boy's throat.
Andy left marks like that on him, sometimes - tiny bruises that blossomed like flowers beneath his lips.
He was caught off guard by the intensity of the pain that slammed through his body. His heart hurt, for fucksake - how was that even possible?
"Come home with me," he said, and was surprised when he heard his voice come out sounding so ordinary.
"Right, so you're telling me what do to do now, are you?"
Gareth shook his head. "That's not what I meant..."
As soon as they left his mouth, Andrew regretted his words. Hawke turned abruptly and headed for the door, and the sight of him, walking away, was like being slapped round the face.
"Gareth, wait..."
He followed him, elbowing his way through the crowd of people between them, only vaguely aware of the fact that that he was splashing lager down someone's shirt as he pushed past.
He finally caught up with Gareth in the car park, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him round until they were face to face.
"I'm sorry," Andrew groaned. He looked close to tears. "Oh God, I'm such a fucking idiot!"
"It's okay..."
"No, it's not! You deserve so much better."
Gareth pulled Andrew close, wrapping his arms around the man's slender body, breathing in the scent of vodka and weed that clung to his clothes and hair. The pain was already beginning to subside, fading to a dull, background ache that he found he could more or less ignore - it seemed somehow less important than the fact that Andy was there, warm and solid, in his arms.
It'll be alright, he told himself.
It had to be.
He didn't think he could bear it if it wasn't.
Andrew leaned against him, slightly unsteady on his feet.
"Could we just.. . sit down somewhere, for a minute? I think i need some fresh air," he said.
"You're not going to throw up, are you?"
"Don't think so. I just want to sit quietly, clear my head."
He guided Andrew over to where he'd left the car and lowered himself onto the low wall beside it. Andrew sat down beside him. He leaned against Gareth's side and Gareth held onto him, noticing the way his hair glinted gold under the yellow streetlight.
For a while they just sat there, listening to the hum of voices from the bar, the thud of the bass like a distant heartbeat, the seashell sounds of cars up on the main road.
Andrew tilted his head back to look at the sky, at the stars that shimmered above them, icy and impossibly distant.
He rested his head against his lover's shoulder. It felt so right, being close to him like this. What the fuck had he thought he was doing?
"Love you, Gareth." he said softly. "I'm sorry I'm such an arse."
"You're not. Anyway, I happen to love your arse..."
Andrew chuckled, and Hawke kissed his hair.
"It's going to be ok," he insisted. "I promise."
Andrew shook his head. "You can't promise that."
Gareth had never seen Andrew like this before - achingly vulnerable, yet somehow dangerous at the same time. It made him realise how little they really knew each other. It unnerved him.
"What's wrong, Andy? Has something happened?"
"Apart from me getting hideously drunk and making a twat of myself, you mean?"
Andrew lowered his head, pressing the side of his face against the fabric of Hawke's shirt, breathing in the smell of clean flesh and fabric softener. The pulse of Gareth's heartbeat against his cheek was strangely soothing.
When he eventually spoke, his tone was abnormally flat and unemotional.
"They brought this girl in today." he said. "Seventeen years old. She was out shopping with her friends, and a car came up onto the pavement and hit her. The driver had a heart attack at the wheel, it was just one of those awful, completely random, things. She had severe internal injuries, and there was nothing we could do for her. I spent the whole afternoon sitting with her parents, watching her die. It was..." His voice trailed off into silence.
"Oh God. I'm sorry, Andy."
"I see people die all the time… old people, kids…. It's not like you ever get used to it, exactly, but..."
Gareth tightened his grip around the blond man, and realised he was trying to suppress a tremor.
"It reminded me of Karl," Andrew said.
To Hawke, Karl was just a name, a smiling, bearded, face in a photograph on Andrew's cluttered bookshelf. He knew he'd died in an accident a few years ago, but Andy never talked about him.
Hawke suspected there were lots of things Andy never talked about - things that haunted his dreams and woke him, tearful and trembling, in the night.
"Do you want to tell me?" he asked.
" I don't know. I've never... I never had anyone to talk about it to. " Andrew gave a tense little shrug. The image flashed into his mind, Karl laying, pale and shrunken, against the white sheets. Wires and plastic tubes everywhere, the hiss of the ventilator, the bleep of the monitor as it measured out his life in heartbeats.
He rubbed the heel of his hand over one eye. "There's not much to say."
Hawke didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, just pressed his lips to the top of Andy's head and went on holding him.
"After he died i didn't cope very well" Andrew went on, his voice still surprisingly controlled. " It hurt... and I was so angry. I wanted to make someone pay, but the only person I had to take it out on was myself." He paused, then added " I was a mess, Gareth. I did a lot of things I'm not very proud of. "
"I've lost people close to me too - I know what it's like, love," Hawke reminded him.
" I know, but I'm not strong, like you. When I get scared, I do really stupid things. I don't mean to, but it's like I have a self-destruct button. I run away, hide myself in a bottle, or in someone else's bed..."
"Is that what happened tonight?" Gareth thought of the bruise on Jamie's neck. He pushed the image away, refused to acknowledge the stab of pain that went with it.
Andrew nodded miserably. "It was almost like someone else took over and I was just watching from a distance. I'm sorry, I know that sounds pathetic." He sniffed, and rubbed at his eyes again.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, while Gareth thought about the things Andy had said. After a while, the music from the bar stopped, and the lights went out one by one. Gareth felt Andy's weight against his chest. Something had changed, but he wasn't sure what it was yet.
"Is it because i asked you to move in with me? Is that what you're so scared of?" he asked.
"I don't know. Sometimes i think i'm scared of everything. Being happy. You..." Andrew let out a bitter little laugh. "I was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about the future, up until today."
"You don't have to." Hawke sounded apologetic. " I just thought..."
" You don't get it, do you?" Andrew shook his head. " It's the middle of the night, I'm drunk, I'm freezing cold, and we're sitting in a fucking car park, and it's... beautiful. I never imagined there was anything like this. You make me happier than I've ever been in my life, and it scares the shit out of me."
"You know I'd never do anything to hurt you."
"But you will!" Andy insisted. "You won't mean to, but things happen... people change, they fall out of love, or they die... and I don't know what I'd do without you, Gareth Hawke. I look at you, and it's like I'm falling."
Gareth stroked back a strand of hair from his lover's forehead, and it immediately fell back over his eyes again, the way it always did.
"Someone said something to me once," he told him, "about how it's only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly."
"God, that's the corniest line I've ever heard!" Andrew couldn't help laughing, despite himself. "Who on earth said that?"
"Actually, I'm not sure - I might have seen it in a film, now I think about it. Or maybe I dreamed it." Hawke laughed too. "It's true though, Andy - If I'd let myself think about it too much, I'd never have waited for you outside the hospital that morning."
"I'm glad you did."
Andrew twisted round to face Hawke, their bodies still touching, lips close enough to each feel the warmth of the other's breath against them, but suddenly feeling too far apart. He wondered briefly how it would look if someone came out of the bar and saw them, and then realised he didn't actually care. He was sick of being scared, and worrying what other people thought.
He placed his hands either side of Gareth's face and kissed him, deeply and unhurriedly.
"Love you."
Hawke felt the words vibrate against his lips, warm and faintly vodka flavoured.
"I love you too," he said.
"I don't want to fuck this up," Andrew said. "I want to be with you. I want to just... close my eyes and jump."
" We're in this together, Andy. I'm jumping with you." Hawke smiled, that warm, wide open grin that had been the first thing Andrew loved about him. "It'll be an adventure," he said.
Their lips met again, tongues sliding together, and Gareth's hands came up to tangle themselves in Andy's hair. Andy slid his hands beneath Hawke's jacket. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Gareth's skin was chilly to the touch.
"If we sit here much longer, I'll lose all the feeling in my arse." he said. "I suppose you think that will be an adventure too."
"That would be more like a tragedy."
Andrew laughed. His fingers found their way beneath Hawke's shirt, sliding over the tautly ridged muscles of his belly, and down below the waistband of his trousers.
"Let's go home, love," he said.
"Do you want to go back to yours?"
Andrew shook his head. "Yours. I suppose I should start calling it ours, now," he corrected himself.
Gareth smiled, and he felt it go all the way through him. He looked so happy.
I can make him happy. he thought.
I can spend the rest of my life making him happy, seeing him smile. Talking to him, and touching him, and falling asleep beside him.
He couldn't imagine anything more wonderful.
Gareth took his key fob from his pocket and pointed it towards the car. The locks clicked, the lights flickered on, and the future suddenly seemed full of possibilities.
We could go anywhere, Andrew thought. As long as we're together.
He understood then, that home isn't where you come from, or where you end up.
It's wherever your heart is, and his was with Hawke.