March
Grad/Fac Seminar (Speakers: Dr. S. Versurfer) – Friday, March 15
Spring Recess Monday, March 18 - Sunday, March 24
oooOooo
"What am I supposed to do?" Teddy stared blankly between his fingers, head in his hands. The long wood table at the faculty club was cool under his elbows, the background hum of voices and clinking of cutlery familiar, but not comforting. Billy rubbed his back, hand moving in easy circles over the fabric of his shirt.
"Wait it out, I suppose," Cassie frowned, poking at the remnants of her lunch with her fork. "I mean, you have all her work on record, right? So the truth will come out one way or another."
"It's that final exam that's going to screw him," Kate stabbed the air with her fork. "There's no way to prove that Teddy didn't junk her paper in retaliation."
"She wasn't there," Teddy sank forward until his forehead rested on the table. "She never turned in a final. And there was nothing to retaliate for!" He lifted his head to look around the table at his friends, resting his chin on his arms.
"Since she wasn't there, then that'll be reflected on the proctor's forms," Eli said, steepling his fingers in thought. Teddy could practically see the gears turning in his head as he worked through the possibilities. "Legal called me this morning, I'm guessing to set up a meeting time to find out what I remember."
Kate nodded. "They'll check that list against the grade list; if she didn't sign in, that'll be the end of it. No exam written means no exam paper for you to throw away, and the rest of her story doesn't make any sense without that."
"Unless she convinces them that he paid off the proctor," Tommy suggested, his arms folded as he leaned back in his chair. Jerk. He nudged Teddy with one knee. "Are you going to eat that?"
"Tommy!" Billy snapped, but Teddy just pushed his plate toward Tommy with his elbow.
"You're just a beacon of positive energy, aren't you?" Darcy poked Tommy in the ribs and he squirmed aside to avoid her finger.
Tommy pulled Teddy's plate closer to himself and stabbed a fry with his fork. "Call me a realist."
Cassie elbowed Jonas and he put away his phone, looping one arm over her shoulder and the back cushion of the booth. "But since Teddy's telling the truth, he won't have anything to worry about." She smiled at Teddy encouragingly, and Kate ruffled his hair.
Tom shook his head, managing to look both condescending and sympathetic at the same time. "That's sweet, but naïve. Whether or not Salvadore's name is on the exam attendance list, the reality is neither of them can prove what happened in Ted's office that day. And once it comes down to his word against hers, that's when records get opened up and it all becomes a trial by reputation. If you're lucky, she'll have previous black marks on hers. I'm assuming you're so clean that you squeak."
"That's gross," Teddy couldn't help imagining how that would go; were they interviewing dorm mates and RAs as well as his colleagues? Would Angel's reputation somehow become the deciding factor in which one of them the tribunal believed? "Just because I know she's lying now doesn't mean that she deserves that." He trailed off, wrestling with the idea. "There's got to be some way to convince her to tell the truth without making this some kind of inquisition." Because he'd be damned if he'd be a party to that.
"The whole department is behind you on this, Teddy," Billy stopped moving, his hand splayed out flat between Teddy's shoulder blades. His hand was warm, strong and comforting, and it was something to focus on beyond the twisted anxiety gnawing at his gut. "And so are we. We'll get through this. It'll all work out." And his jaw was set with fierce determination, a fire in his eyes. "We'll find a way."
oooOooo
"I'm not offering to take a lie detector test, Bill," Teddy said firmly. He tossed the essay he was marking back in the stack on Billy's dinner table and slumped in his chair. The Saturday afternoon was supposed to have been a quiet one; just Bill, Ted, popcorn, and a movie night as a reward if they both managed to get through the stacks of grading and prep that had been piling up.
New relationships were awesome, but they had a tendency to be really distracting when it came to getting any, y'know, actual work done. Teddy had been thinking of the day as a gift to himself, for surviving the week. Because god knew he needed something good in his life right about now, and Billy was normally a wonderful distraction.
Not this time, though. Billy was pacing across his living room, back and forth in long strides until Teddy had to fight the urge to stick a foot out and trip him just so that he'd stop. "But why not? That way they'll know you didn't do anything wrong."
"Because they're not admissible in any kind of legal proceeding, that's why." And when had Teddy become the rational one in a relationship? "And I'd probably be so nervous about the whole thing in the first place that I'd throw off the readings and end up indicting myself."
"There's got to be something-"
Teddy sighed inwardly, careful not to let his exasperation show on his face. Maybe if he just kept quiet and let Billy rant, he'd burn himself out. If Teddy didn't say anything to encourage him… well, he had to run out of breath eventually, didn't he?
"Even if they rule for you, what if this goes on your record? It could come up again at your tenure review."
"You're the one with the tenure review coming up," Teddy felt obliged to point out. "Mine won't be for another two years. I'm sure this will all have blown over long before then." Cassie was too idealistic for him to really trust her assessment, but when Kate and Eli agreed that his chances were good, well. He had to cling on to something, didn't he? "It'll be fine."
"Don't you care if you lose your job?" Billy stopped pacing and grabbed the back of the chair beside him, his brow furrowed and his frown deep and concerned.
Teddy tilted his head up and looked at Billy, quirking an eyebrow. There was absolutely no point in encouraging him. One of them had to stay calm. "Of course I care," he started slowly, and reached out for Billy's hand. Billy brushed his fingertips against Teddy's but didn't reach out any further. "But at this point I've done everything that I possibly can."
Two interviews now with legal, a typed up document including every memory he had of every interaction with Angel as well as copies of every assignment she'd handed in, attendance records, and his copy of the proctor's report from his exam. If that wasn't enough, then… well, he wasn't sure what. He'd probably have to spend another day searching through his files for whatever else they'd decided they needed to see.
"And stressing out about it," he finished, as a reminder to himself as well, "isn't going to change anything."
"What if they find against you? You'll never be able to teach again. Not here. You'd have to job hunt again, and you could end up teaching business correspondence at a community college in…" Billy paused, searching for a place name, "I don't know. Podunk, Iowa. Your nearest neighbors would be cows."
"Moo," Teddy answered playfully, but Billy didn't laugh. "Relax, Would you? It won't happen." Billy was being ridiculous, and winding himself up into a frenzy, and he was going to give himself an aneurism over something that wasn't even about him to begin with. Teddy frowned, the irritation beginning to prickle under his skin. Why couldn't Billy just drop it? "This is my problem, Bill, not yours. Why are you freaking out more than I am?"
"Oh, I don't know." Billy gestured sharply, and ran his fingers back through his hair. "Maybe I'm just getting used to having you around. Besides," he smiled tentatively, but the nervous energy was still radiating off of him. "There's a certain level of out-freaking that has to be done. If you're not going to step up, someone's got to pick up your slack."
Okay, that was better. Teddy snorted a small laugh and Billy relaxed for a second. Teddy reached out and grabbed Billy's hand this time and pulled him down for a kiss, brushing his lips against Billy's jaw, his mouth- Maybe they could forget about all of this for a while and just be. But the momentary truce didn't last
"Why did you say this wasn't my problem?" Billy asked. He braced one arm on the back of Teddy's chair and leaned over, taking up Teddy's space. His brow was drawn low in deep, concerned furrows and he was frowning again. "Because I like to think that things that affect you are going to affect me as well. I know it's only been a couple of months, but still- Iowa. It would be a long commute, and we wouldn't qualify for spousal hires anywhere outside the east coast even if we were married."
Teddy groaned and rubbed his hand across his face. Billy backed off, and the loss of the warmth of his body and the closeness was actually a relief. "Jesus, Billy; can't you just drop it?" Teddy sat up. Billy was standing further away, and the wave of frustration was too strong this time to be ignored.
"Every day at work this week I've had to deal with fallout from this idiocy. People stare at me in the halls and my students stop talking the second I enter the room. All of my free time has been spent on dealing with legal, or pulling together records and documentation… I just want one day where I can get my actual work done, and maybe spend some time not thinking about the bullshit that is my life right now."
"Oh, now I'm 'bullshit'?" Billy was looking at him like he was a challenge, just… radiating this pissed-off energy, and all Teddy wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide.
"That's not what I said, and you know it," he finally let loose, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. Billy took a step back and there was a weird flash of triumph, some kind of 'a-hah' in his eyes that made Teddy stumble over his words before he found them again. Really? Is this your game?
"Are you trying to see how far you can push me? Because congratulations! You found it," Teddy snapped. How hard would it have been to just let it go, kiss him back, work out the worry and fear in muscle and skin and sweat? But no – Billy had to push and push until Teddy was as tight a bundle of raw nerves as he was. Stupid and obnoxious and infuriating- "Gold star for you. Is this how you get your jollies? By pissing people off? Christ; no wonder Nate kept leaving." He regretted it the second it came out of his mouth, but by then it was too late.
Billy's eyes flashed with raw hurt and he was firing right back, his voice raised and his hands balling up at his sides. "Oh, and you're Mr. Easygoing, is that it? No-one even try to understand crazy Kaplan, everyone knows it can't be Teddy's fault. He's too nice."
"You've been spoiling for a fight for days." Teddy was vibrating with it as well, taut as a bowstring and his jaw clenched and aching. "Did you get sick of the calm? You've got to get your rush somehow, don't you? And now that Nate's not here I'm it. Well, find it somewhere else." Teddy swept his pile of marking into his bag and slung it over his shoulder in a swift and furious motion. It slammed against his side, the weight of the papers and his laptop knocking the wind from him for half a second.
"I'm not your emotional punching bag." Teddy jabbed a finger at Billy, anger casting the world in shades of red. "I'm not anyone's punching bag, ever again."
Teddy jammed his arms into his jacket sleeves, his hand catching and tangling until he forced it through. He half-registered the sound of a couple of stitches popping in the lining, but it hardly mattered. "I'm out of here. Call me once you've pulled your head out of your ass."
He slammed the door on the way out. The bang was intensely satisfying.
He felt sick.
oooOooo
Billy didn't call.
oooOooo
He didn't call and while he apparently showed up to teach his classes, he wasn't in his office at all on Monday. Or Tuesday.
Not that Teddy checked.
oooOooo
Wednesday was Day Four, and Teddy's distraction was starting to become a problem. Kate and Eli kept giving him sympathetic looks and not saying anything, which was bad enough, but then Darcy had asked about 'trouble in paradise' three times before Teddy had finally snapped at her sharply enough that she'd flinched.
He'd ended up buying her a box of chocolates in apology, so at least she was speaking to him again.
Thank god for lecture-free Wednesday afternoons.
The bus ride out to the cemetery was shorter than he remembered, the long green lawn between the road and the gravel paths wider. A right and then two lefts and he was sixteen again, the gravel crunching under his feet and an identical blue sky sitting high and remote overhead. The white marble stone sat there like an accusation, the etched-in dates sharp-edged and stark in their absoluteness.
Sarah Marie Altman
01/23/1958 – 06/25/1997
Mark Theodore Altman
09/14/1955 – 08/22/1981
The cemetery was quiet. There were birds singing somewhere, and the faint drone of cars passing in the distance, but little else to disturb the cathedral-silence of the space.
Teddy laid the brightly-colored bouquet below the stone, sat on the grass at the foot of the graves, and drew his knees up to his chest. The ground was cool and damp beneath him and he'd have grass stains on his slacks, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Hey, guys," he said, his voice falling dead in the quiet. He stopped. Where could he even begin? "It's been a long time. I'm sorry." His throat closed for a moment and he struggled against the feeling.
"Is it weird that seven months feels longer than all the years I was in Portland? Maybe because I'm home again and I could have gotten out here more. I fell out of the habit somewhere along the way, and I shouldn't have. Though it's not like you can ground me for missing curfew anymore." His mouth twitched up in the corners in a smile that quickly vanished.
"I should have come when things were going well," Teddy wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on one. "I don't want you to think that I only want to talk to you when I'm having problems."
His breath did catch, then, and the empty ache in the core of him grew and grew and threatened to swallow him whole.
"I always want to talk to you." It wasn't the talking to that he longed for, though, but the talking with, and that was something he could never have again.
"But this time- oh, mom. I screwed up real bad this time. And I don't know how much of it I can fix."
His eyes prickled and the world blurred; Teddy scrubbed his sleeve across his face and only succeeded in making his cheeks damp. What was the point? There was no-one here to see him anyway.
"Work was going really well, except for this one thing. And I should have been smarter at the beginning. I shouldn't have met with her behind a closed door, or maybe I should have gone to Carol immediately after it happened, but I didn't. And now I'm in a real mess.
"And on top of that…" he trailed off, looked up and around, but other than the distant form of a gardener, there was no movement other than a few gently swaying tree branches. "I met this guy.
"He's amazing. Mostly. But he's just as screwed up as I am."
He thought he felt silent recrimination from the air. He could see her there, hands on her hips and her head tilted as though to say 'Theodore Altman, don't you dare talk about yourself that way.'
"You weren't here for the whole Greg thing or you'd understand." Teddy explained to the figure in his mind's eye.
"It was my fault. I was so alone, and I thought Greg was the answer. That if I could be what he wanted, I wouldn't be alone anymore. But he kept raising the bar until I had turned myself inside out and the face in the mirror wasn't mine anymore. I was so fucking stupid to fall for his games." Teddy's jaw hurt from grinding his teeth, and he forced his fingers to unlock from around the fabric of his pants.
"Oh, mom." The words left his mouth as a whispered plea. "Billy is amazing in all the ways Greg wasn't. I think he really likes me, just… for me. He's as scared as I am, and he's a ridiculous bundle of stress, and I knew all that and I still let things get out of hand. I shouldn't…
"There are a lot of things I shouldn't have done. Maybe it's the whole 'right person wrong time' thing, but I wanted him so badly."
Teddy sniffled, and it sounded louder in his own ears than his entire confession together. He had never been able to imagine his father as anything but a still image, but he could close his eyes and remember his mother's arm around his shoulders, her voice, her hair and how it felt to bury his face in it.
If he closed his eyes and held still for long enough maybe he could smell her perfume, the scent of the roses from the bouquet lingering lightly in the air. She would know what to say, what to do.
'Call him,' she'd say, 'don't let pride get in the way of something you truly want.'
But how could he now, when Billy hadn't called? He'd left the door open and Billy hadn't walked through.
Teddy shook with the tears and curled in on himself, the hole inside black and wide and emptier than it had ever been before. "I think you'd have liked him, mom. I think you'd have liked him a lot.
"I don't know how we got so turned around. And I don't know how to fix it."
One step at a time, he thought he heard the wind say.
But it was only his imagination.
He sat there for a long time, head down on his arms and his arms wrapped around himself as though to hold the bleak cold in. The chill and the damp started seeping into his bones, and when Teddy lifted his head, the sun had sunk lower toward the horizon.
If this were a movie, he felt the treacherous thought slip in, he'd turn around and Billy would be there, sitting on the bench, waiting. He'd have known where Teddy would go, would be walking toward him now with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging low and an apology waiting to be kissed from his lips.
Teddy held the image in his mind until he could almost feel Billy's presence there, smell his aftershave, hear the soft scuff of a footstep on the path behind him.
He would slip his arms around Teddy's neck now and Teddy would lean up into him and bury his face in the crook of Billy's shoulder and all would be forgiven.
Another soft sound.
Maybe…
He turned.
The green lawn rolled away unbroken but for the regular jutting shapes of the headstones. There was nothing alive here but him, and a small squirrel dashing in circles up the trunk of a tree.
Teddy pulled himself to his feet and tugged his jacket close around himself as he began his slow walk back along the paths toward the gate.
He was alone, but he wasn't entirely without options. It was time to start trying to put the pieces back together. However he could.
oooOooo
The law firm that Tom worked for was in a high-rise, the etched names of the partners on the glass doors imposing and impressive. Teddy had been taking a chance, showing up without an appointment or even a call ahead, but it had been a move made entirely on impulse and he didn't want the chance to talk himself out of it.
It made sense, though, even logically. NYCU was a lot bigger than one guy's problems; they were going to want to resolve this as quickly as possible and with the least amount of disruption. Sure, they'd promised him representation, but would everything they did actually be in his best interests, or the school's?
Teddy didn't need to think too hard about that answer.
Tom was a corporate lawyer, not a criminal or civil guy, but at least he was a friend. Or at least, he might be a friend. God knew what Billy had told him.
Maybe this had been a bad idea.
"Mr. Altman? Mr. Shepherd will see you now." The receptionist hustled him down the hall before Teddy had a chance to leave. She bustled along in front of him, graying hair in a tight bun, and waved him through another glass door before her heels clicked back down the hall toward the glass-and-steel waiting room.
Tom was on the phone when Teddy stepped in, pacing back and forth across his office floor and gesturing in the air as he spoke. He cupped one hand over the speaker when he saw Teddy, and waved him to one of the chairs before turning back to his phone call. "Hang on, Norman; I'll call you back." He hung up and dropped the cell phone back on his desk as Teddy sat.
The chair was as uncomfortable as the rest of the office looked, all edges and sleek lines that looked great but seemed designed not to let anyone relax. Which, when he thought about it, was probably the idea. Tom's expression was unreadable, neither friendly nor condemning, and he leaned back against the edge of his desk and folded his arms, waiting for Teddy to say something.
"This isn't about Billy," Teddy felt compelled to say. He shifted uneasily in the chair and settled for leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Tom relaxed a tiny bit, a shift in expression only visible around the eyes. "And I know that you have no real reason to trust me, or believe that I didn't do anything wrong, except that Billy does." He paused, heat rising in his cheeks, and corrected himself. "Did."
Tom shifted, braced his hands on the edge of his desk and sat there, his light grey suit bunching up at the cuffs. The late afternoon light spilled through the window, orange-golden and not blocked out by the other buildings this high up. "That doesn't say much. Everyone knows that Billy's got shitty taste in men."
Teddy squeezed his eyes closed for a second and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Thanks. The point is, Angel and this case they're building against me. We both know that the university is going to protect me only in so far as it's covering its own ass. Which may not be enough."
Tom frowned and cocked his head. "So why come to me? I'm not that kind of lawyer. You want to buy out a company or make a bid for an international merger, I'm your guy, but I don't think that'll help you much."
"But you know the system," Teddy broke in, clasping his hands and then abruptly letting go; the position looked too much like praying. Or begging. "If you have any ideas about what I can do now." We'll find a way, Billy had said, and he needed some of that surety now. "Because I've given them everything I can and I'm afraid that they're going to hang me anyway."
The silence hung there for a beat and then Tom walked around his desk, grabbed for a daybook that was sitting on his blotter. He flipped through the pages as he walked back around, and dropped easily down onto the other empty guest chair. "She filed the complaint about a week and a half ago, right?" Tom's phone buzzed on the desk and he ignored it.
Teddy had to stop and think for a second, but- "Yeah, that's right. The end of February."
"Isn't that weird timing for a grade complaint?" Tom's fingers drummed on the page and he looked pensive, the first almost-genuine expression Teddy had seen on Tom's face since walking in. "Waiting until the middle of the next term?"
Teddy blinked, and thought it through. "I guess so? Normally when students want a reread, they ask for it in the first few weeks after marks are posted. But they have something like two years after the fact to make an appeal. I never really thought about it," he confessed. "Do you think it means something?"
The drumming picked up speed and then Tom stopped abruptly. He snapped the book closed, but shrugged with careful nonchalance. "It probably doesn't. But I'll look into a couple of things and get back to you." He studied Teddy's face for a moment, and then grinned. "If anyone asks, we never had this conversation. And you're going to owe me, big guy."
That was almost a return to what passed for normal (how had this become normal?) and Teddy's shoulders unknotted. "Anything," he swore fervently. "If you can help me clear this up, I'll get you whatever you want." He paused for half a second, remembering who he was talking to. "Within, you know, the actual limits of physics and my sad academic salary."
Tom snorted and tossed his book back onto his desk. "Save it for my idiot brother." He pinned Teddy with a look.
Teddy's mouth went dry and he wanted to ask – what has he said, is he sorry, does he miss me? Will he hang up on me if I call? – but he didn't.
The receptionist knocked briskly and opened the door before Tom could reply. She looked at Teddy as though he were an inconsiderate inconvenience, then away. "Mr. Shepherd? Your four o'clock is here."
Teddy got to his feet as Tom thanked her, and she vanished with another disapproving look. "Tom – for whatever it's worth, whatever Billy's told you-"
Tom held up a hand. "Save it for him. I'm not playing go-between. I'll get back to you when I have anything on your case. Now-" he pointed at the door, a small twist of a smile on his mouth. "Get out, before you end up crashing my next meeting."
His phone couldn't get a signal in the elevator, and by the time Teddy walked out into the street he'd changed his mind again. It was too easy to screw things up with just words. He needed to see Billy, be near him, and find out if there was anything left to be saved.
oooOooo
It was mostly dark by the time he got to Billy's building, the streetlights on and the traffic heavy. Right. So he would go up to the apartment, and say – what? 'I'm sorry,' obviously, because as much as Billy had been the instigator, Teddy had taken a few potshots of his own. 'I want to fix this,' and 'I miss you' and –
And up ahead, about half a block away, Nate was coming out of the building.
Teddy stopped walking. Nate didn't see him there, wasn't looking anywhere but ahead. He looped the strap of a messenger bag (Overnight bag? No. He wouldn't, couldn't believe that.) over his shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction.
The wall of the building behind Teddy was nice and solid and cool and he sagged against it. This was getting ridiculous. He had to think about it logically. It had only been a few days since they'd fought, and Billy had sworn that he was done with Nate completely.
But he was vulnerable, stressed out, and even bad exes were known quantities. It was easy to fall back into old patterns.
But it was Billy, and for all his problems he was a fundamentally honest person. If Teddy couldn't trust him enough, if he couldn't stop himself from freaking out a little just because he saw Nate leave a building he used to live in… well. Maybe it wasn't Billy who had needed to wait longer before starting a relationship.
One step at a time.
Teddy headed up the front drive and opened the glass doors to the lobby. The warm air wasn't as much of a contrast to the world outside as it had been that first night, but he was still struck with the flash of memory.
The doorman was sitting behind the semi-circular desk, his crossword puzzle in front of him and a pen lodged behind his ear. He nodded at Teddy as the door closed behind him, watched with an expectant look as Teddy approached. "Good evening, Mr. Jarvis," Teddy began politely, as he always did. Jarvis smiled.
"Good evening to you as well, Doctor Altman. It's been a few days, hasn't it?"
Teddy scrubbed his palm across the back of his neck sheepishly, and nodded. "Yeah; I guess it has. Can you buzz me up for Doctor Kaplan, please?"
Jarvis frowned, and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir." The sensation of his heart dropping through the floor was enough to make Teddy feel sick. Billy had blackballed him from the apartment? And after only one disagreement? But Jarvis kept talking. "He's gone out for the evening. With Doctor Bishop, I believe. They left about an hour ago."
"I'm sorry," Teddy said, perplexed. "I thought I just saw Nate leaving."
"Oh yes," Jarvis nodded in response to the statement-that-was-a-question. "Mr. Richards came by to get his mail." He glanced around at the empty lobby, lowered his voice slightly and continued, as though betraying a confidence. "Doctor Kaplan started leaving it down here at the desk, so he wouldn't have to go all the way upstairs." Jarvis' tone was casual, but the look he trained on Teddy was piercingly sharp. "Shall I tell Doctor Kaplan that you came by?"
Teddy hesitated, relieved and tangled up and unsure again all at once. The normal thing, of course, would be to leave a message and hope that Billy would call. But he hadn't yet. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't," Teddy hedged. But he didn't quite say 'no.'
Jarvis was still looking at him, white hair carefully combed around a bald spot that couldn't be hidden and his uniform sharply pressed. "Did something happen between you?" he asked, after a second's pause. "I don't mean to pry, of course. It's only that he's not been himself the past week."
"No…" Teddy started to say, then shook his head. "Yes," he sighed in defeat. "I don't know. We had a fight. I said some stupid things. So did he."
"These things happen," Jarvis took the pen from behind his ear and wrote something down on his newspaper. When he looked up again his expression was earnest and bordering on warm, his eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. "Do you mind a piece of advice?"
Teddy had the distinct impression that no matter what he said, he was going to her it anyway. He nodded and smiled regardless; there was no sense in being impolite.
"Everyone in the world is a little bit broken, in our own unique ways," Jarvis said sagely. "And there's no such thing as a relationship without a rough edge or two. The trick is to find someone whose particular brand of crazy works with yours.
"For what it's worth, Doctor Altman, it would be a shame not to see you come around anymore. Doctor Kaplan's been much happier since he started seeing you."
The moment was almost confessional. It was tempting to say more, to pour everything out to this fatherly old man with the kind eyes. Teddy stepped on the impulse and bottled it back. What he had to say was for Billy, no-one else. "Thanks, Mr. Jarvis," he said instead, and shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets. His fingers coiled around his phone, but it stayed cold and silent. "Take care of yourself."
Jarvis nodded, clasping his hands and watching Teddy go. "And you, sir."
oooOooo
Teddy's phone buzzed at one that morning. Teddy was still awake; with spring break starting, it wasn't like he had to be anywhere first thing in the morning. Dog Cops had rolled over into some stupid rom-com while he hadn't been paying attention. Teddy pushed the pizza box aside to find the remote and shut the damn thing off before the dippy blonde starlet-du-jour could embarrass herself in front of Generic Leading Hunk #4.
Creeping cynicism was perhaps a sign that he should be in bed.
His phone was flashing at him insistently and he grabbed it, sparing only the barest glance at the alert on the screen.
Billy.
He sat bolt upright and fumbled with the phone, screwing up the password twice before he got it open.
The message was so short and simple that it could mean anything. Teddy imagined he could hear a whisper of hope in the words, but it could just as easily be irritation or taciturn fury.
B: Jarvis said you came by?
Traitor.
Teddy sat there for a minute, phone in his hands.
T: wanted to talk
B: I was out w/Kate
T: Yeah, he said
B: Do you still want to talk?
T: I think we should
B: Before you say anything else, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Let me prove it.
B: are you busy tomorrow? Will you meet me on campus?
T: where? Why campus? Everything's closed for spring break
B: Please? 9 pm the science quad?
He sat there staring at the screen and trying to make sense of his thoughts. What was all this cloak and dagger bullshit for? Teddy flopped back on the couch and sagged there.
B: Teddy?
Billy's apology settled in, filling the cracks and crevices of his anger and frustration. And he was mildly curious. The science quad? What was there that either of them could possibly want? Or even access?
He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, and then made his decision.
T: sure. 9 tomorrow.
Teddy hit send and turned off his phone, then buried it between the couch cushions just for good measure. Life was too complicated, and people were too weird. He was going to bed. Everything else would have to wait until the morning.
oooOooo
Teddy left his phone off the rest of the next day. Anyone who needed to get in touch with him would have to do things the old-fashioned way and leave a message. He got a lot more work done when he wasn't jumping for the phone every time he thought it might be buzzing.
Ten minutes to nine found him slouching across campus, his coat collar turned up against the wind. The quad was dead quiet and the buildings were dark; a dog barked somewhere in the distance, but other than that, he was alone.
The campus had theoretically been designed to minimize walking, the buildings for the arts departments clustered in one corner and the science buildings in the other, little fortresses in their solitudes. The science quad was mostly brutalist in its design, short, squat buildings made of heavy poured concrete looking like nothing so much as a series of interconnected bomb shelters. It was hardly a picturesque setting for a date, and Teddy's curiosity piqued around his discomfort despite himself.
Billy was waiting by the door to the physics building, half in shadow and half illuminated by the harsh orange security light. He looked as miserable as Teddy felt, his shoulders hunched and dark circles under his eyes. There were small marks along his jaw that Teddy could see as he got closer, a handful of little nicks that suggested hasty shaving. Teddy fought back the urge to take Billy's face between his palms, kiss his lips and then every one of those nicks, promise that he'd do better, next time- he'd be better, as long as Billy let him come home.
Because it hadn't been all on him. He wasn't going to go down that road again.
"Hey," he said instead, when he was standing under the light as well and there was less than a foot of space between them.
"Hey." Billy searched his face, looking for something, and the uncertainty there was a punch to the gut.
"What's going on?" Teddy swallowed hard and waited; if he opened his mouth again he was going to say something that he would eventually regret.
"I'm an idiot," Billy said, and that was not at all what Teddy had been braced for.
If you would just listen / you know I'm right / how dumb could you be / you need to change, bend, compromise / things could be so good if you would only put some effort in-
It was an echo, a ghost from the past, and Teddy tried to ignore the voice that whispered there in his mind. This was different, this was Billy. And he was apologizing.
"I'm so sorry," Billy was saying, and Teddy realized that he was just standing there, hands in his pockets, not responding, letting Billy spill his guts all over the space between them. "You were right. I didn't think, and I was – I am – scared for you, and for me, what either thing might mean for us, and it all just got away from me somehow. And I want to make it up to you, if you'll let me."
Teddy found his voice, but it took him a second, and Billy's face started to fall. "Yes, I – uh – that is. I'm an idiot too. I said things I didn't mean. And I'm sorry." That had a hopeful smile blossoming across Billy's face and the world was beginning to sit right on its axis again. Billy stepped in close, slid a hand around the back of Teddy's neck. Their lips met, sweet and tentative, and for a moment that was enough. But it wasn't right, not yet, and Teddy frowned. "Why here, Bill? What's with-" he gestured at the building as he pulled away. "This?"
Billy pulled back and fumbled in his pocket for something, coming up again in a moment with a set of keys. "Right. I should do this, instead of standing here in the cold. This- yeah. Just come in."
Teddy followed him, through the dark hallway and then up in the elevator until they emerged on a floor that needed another key, and another long dark hall. The exit sign was the only light in the final section as Billy fumbled with the keys, and then he was opening a door into a room Teddy had never seen before.
The ceiling was high and domed, white-tiled and arching high above them. Seats ringed the center in concentric circles, half-tipped back and cushioned. The center of the room was taken up with a vast projector, black lenses studding the bulk of the thing like tumors on some huge black ant. A blanket was laid out on the floor in one of the aisles, a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses sitting beside.
Teddy stared. And then the irritation and anger boiled up inside him again because how did he not see this before? The answers slotted neatly into place and his teeth ached with the tension that was back in his jaw. Billy was watching him, waiting for a reaction, and Teddy shook his head.
"What's wrong?" Billy asked, all anxiety again. "I thought you would like it. It took me a couple of days to get access, I know; I should have tried to get in sooner."
"Is this going to be a thing?" Teddy turned and looked at the room, then projector, the picnic blanket; anywhere but at Billy. "Pick a fight and then pull out a grand gesture so all will be forgiven?" He curled his fingers in his pockets, the rub of the fabric against his knuckles grounding and reassuring. "I'm not playing this game, Bill, this push and pull thing of yours."
Billy's face had fallen and he was working to get it back under control, his jaw set and lower lip pushing out slightly in a disbelieving pout. "What are you talking about?"
"I need one thing in my life that's easy." The truth exploded out of Teddy in a rush, and he stared at the wall as he said it. He couldn't look anywhere else. "Uncomplicated. Drama-free. God knows my career won't be that."
Billy's hand was warm on his arm and a pleading note had crept into his voice. "Teddy, just. Just tell me. What is it that you want me to do? Because whatever it is, I'll do it."
It caught in his throat; he couldn't. It was too much, too honest, too fast, when this was the first time they'd spoken in a week and carelessly or otherwise, Billy was going to break everything Teddy had left.
But this was Billy; Billy who had rocked inside him and become part of his body. Billy, who whispered and murmured and cried out words when he climaxed that Teddy knew he was supposed to ignore. Billy, who had drawn him into an uneasy orbit the moment they had met.
He was so damned tired. It would be easier to turn around, to walk away and go home. Home to his quiet, empty apartment where he could burrow under the covers and pretend.
And in the morning, the bed beside him would still be empty, the sheets cold.
"You, being there," he said, not meaning to, regretting it the minute it was out. "No drama, just... you. Having my back. Knowing that you will, without having to think about it. Because I can't, all this back and forth-"
Teddy's voice caught. His throat closed, trying to protect him from making a mistake, spilling out too much of his heart's blood across the floor. "Don't expect me to react to things like Nate did, because I'm not him. I don't know his half of the script." And now he was pleading, and looking at Billy, their eyes locked together and there were no walls at all anymore. "I'm not as strong as you think I am. These games will break me."
Billy sucked in breath, painful and sharp. "Are you breaking up with me?"
That was the last thing he wanted, the exact opposite of what he'd meant to say, and why did words have to be so messy and imprecise?
Fuck it.
Teddy pulled his hands out of his pockets and slid his fingers into Billy's hair. He stepped in and closed the last space between them, Billy's heat sinking into him and thawing everything that was barren and cold. Teddy kissed him and Billy kissed back, and it was desperate and yearning, prayer and fulfillment all in one, and Teddy poured everything into it that he could never say. Because words had never been invented that could do what touch did.
Hear me, hear this, the only way I know how to tell you-
Billy sagged against him and his face was damp and his mouth opened for Teddy and he was hot and wet and everything that was perfect and good.
"So that's a 'no'?" Billy murmured a minute later, his arms locked around Teddy's waist in what felt like a permanent arrangement.
"No- that is, I don't want to," Teddy replied against Billy's lips. "But you're going to have to get over your addiction to the dramatic exit."
"Hey," Billy protested. "As I recall, you were the one who slammed out." Teddy kissed him again, mostly to make him stop talking.
"I thought that was it," Billy continued once his mouth was free again, interspersing the words with feather-light kisses along Teddy's jaw and throat. "That I'd screwed up too badly. Shit, Teddy-" he buried his face in Teddy's shoulder for a moment and Teddy held on tight. Billy's hair tickled his nose, and he smelled of citrus and coffee, and the world shifted back into place.
"You screwed up," he said quietly, "but so did I. I said things I didn't mean." And in the name of being honest and not falling back into old patterns, he took a breath and continued with the rest of the truth. "But, also some things that I did."
Billy nodded and stepped back, not enough to pull away but enough to make eye contact. "I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."
Teddy snorted a little feeling his equilibrium restore. "I have some idea how sorry you are."
And there was that smile, not the real full one yet, but the slightly sardonic twist that told him he was halfway there. "Thanks, jerk."
"Any time." Teddy lunged forward a little and claimed Billy's mouth, traced the edge of his lips with his tongue. He tasted like coffee and maybe a little like whiskey; had he needed that to get up the courage tonight? God, they were messed up. But maybe it was better to be messed up together.
Billy's hands rested on his hips, warm and solid, and his fingers caught into Teddy's belt loops to hold him in place. Kissing him was a homecoming and a drug, and it wasn't a lack of air that left Teddy lightheaded.
"So just for the record," Billy said, the first few words just shapes against Teddy's lips. Billy broke the kiss and pulled away, fingers still tangled at Teddy's waist.
"Hmm?"
"'Grand gestures,'" Billy clarified, but he had a knowing smile. "You don't want them." He looked pointedly at the blanket, the glasses, and the bottle of red wine.
Teddy actually stopped and looked around them for the first time since Billy had led him in here. An actual planetarium. What was supposed to have been a romantic evening. Probably the sweetest thing any boyfriend had ever tried to do for him. And his first reaction had been to shit all over it because he was still riding the adrenaline and the worry.
Damn.
"I don't want to be in a position where we need them," Teddy clarified. "I don't want… Billy." He gave up trying to explain himself. "How did you know we even had a planetarium on campus? Whose keys are those?"
Billy watched the transformation on his face and grinned in something that looked like triumph. He stepped away and headed back toward the door as he spoke. "Darcy's best friend Jane is doing a post-doc with Erik Selvig, in the physics department." Billy flipped a switch, keys jingling in his hand, and the world went dark. A moment later and lights around the edges of the dome came on, casting a pale blue glow up into the black void over their heads. Billy was fumbling with a remote control, and the projector lifted and turning into place.
"And Erik runs the planetarium. He uses it for some of his senior astronomy classes. I managed to get completely legitimate permission to use the place for the night. On the provision that my, uh, 'research assistants' clean up after themselves." Stars appeared overhead, the milky way through the middle, and the familiar constellations spinning in out of the void.
"But of course, since you're not interested, I guess I should turn this off and lock up. We can go get a beer at the faculty club or something," Billy suggested archly, laughter in his eyes.
Teddy bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laugh, and he shook his head. "It would be a shame to waste it," he replied just as archly, "since you already went to all this trouble." Billy wasn't fooled in the slightest, but then, that had hardly been the point.
"You're all heart." Billy messed with the remote again and the stars went wheeling overhead, the whole effect disorienting. He frowned and muttered something that sounded like 'push three and then six, goddammit, Jane,' and then the whole thing tipped sideways and reset itself. The pattern resolved into something achingly familiar, and Teddy stood in the middle of the aisle with his head tipped up and stared into the summer sky in wonder.
Billy's arms slipped around his waist from behind, the lean line of his body pressed up against Teddy's back. He tucked his chin in against Teddy's shoulder, and his breath was warm against Teddy's neck. "Did I get it right?" he murmured after a moment. "You said upstate but not exactly where, so I had to guess at the coordinates."
Teddy breathed out and leaned back into Billy's embrace, laying his arms along Billy's and lacing their fingers together. "It's perfect," he answered, his voice tinged with awe. "I can't believe you did this. Billy-"
"Come on." Billy tugged at his hand and pulled him toward the blanket on the floor. He'd stashed a couple of pillows there as well, tucked under one of the chairs, and he tugged Teddy down to the floor with him. "We won't end up with cricks in the neck this way."
The stars flickered down at them from the dome, twinkling with a clarity that was impossible to find in the city. Teddy's mom had had to drive them two hours out of town to find the campgrounds where they could see the sky like this.
Billy poured the wine then lay back on the blanket. He pulled Teddy between his thighs, and Teddy cushioned his head on Billy's stomach. It was nothing at all like camping but it was everything he needed, held close in Billy's arms, bracketed by his long legs, the familiar points of light wheeling slowly by overhead.
"Where's the north star?" Billy asked quietly. "That's the brightest one, isn't it?"
"No," Teddy shook his head, his hair rubbing against the buttons on Billy's shirt. He was desperately aware of the firm strength of Billy's stomach underneath his head, the taut, smooth skin that was right there by his mouth, separated only by a thin layer of cotton. "That's a common mistake." He kept going, but his voice shook. He wrapped his arm up under Billy's thigh and rested his hand there, tracing intricate patterns on the denim of his jeans. "It's Sirius that's brightest. Unless Jupiter is up."
"Where's that?"
"There-" Teddy pointed and Billy ran a hand down his arm, and asked another question, pulled a story from him and then another, until Teddy's mouth had gone dry from talking.
The wine was full and round on his tongue, the heat pooling in Teddy's middle after the first glass. The garnet-red stood out on Billy's skin even in the near-dark of the starlight, careful dots that took the shape of Teddy's fingertip as he placed them, one by one.
"Cassiopeia," Teddy murmured against Billy's hip, pushing his shirt up further so that the edges wouldn't brush against the trail of careful drops. Billy's pants were unbuttoned, pulled down just far enough that Teddy could trace the contour of his hipbone with his tongue, and leave an expanse of pink-flushed skin for Teddy to draw his star maps.
Billy was hard and straining against the fabric of his pants, the dark cotton of his briefs hiding any wetness there. Teddy could smell him, though, when he pressed his open mouth against the bulge and breathed over it, the musky scent of sex and lust searing through his brain and jolting his concentration. "Cepheus."
He laved his tongue over the drops to clear away his canvas, the stars above still gleaming brilliant in the darkness. Billy shuddered, his hands fisted in the blanket on either side of his body, and tightened his thighs around Teddy's waist to pull him closer.
Teddy dipped one finger in his wineglass again. He let the drops fall on Billy's skin. "Orion's belt." Three dots across the flat plane below Billy's navel, where the trail of sparse dark hair led down to vanish into the waistband of his briefs.
"His sword-" Teddy traced between the dots with his tongue and Billy bucked and arched, keening high in his throat and trying to angle his hips to get some more contact. Teddy's hands splayed wide against his hips to hold him down, before he let go with one to drag the elastic down.
Billy gasped when the cool air struck his skin, and Teddy paused for a moment, propped up on one elbow, simply to admire him. Billy was disheveled and wrecked, his clothes pushed up and down and aside. His cock was desperately hard and almost angry-red, bumping against his stomach now that it was free. The tip gleamed wet and got wetter as Teddy watched.
Had it already been a week since he had last had his mouth there, since he had sucked him in and tasted him and run his tongue over every secret nerve ending he could find?
He wanted, and he pressed his palm against the hard and desperate ache of his own erection, rolled his hips against the pressure. He breathed gently over Billy's skin just to watch him jump, then swallowed him down in one swift motion. Billy arched, he cried out and then keened in desperation, a wordless cry of pure and aching need.
Teddy sucked and licked with the soft, fluttering caresses that he knew drove Billy mad. Billy's taste filled his mouth and the weight of him pressed down on Teddy's tongue, thick and full and driving out all other thought. His hips rocked up in little desperate pushes against Teddy's hands, faster now and faster as Teddy worked his tongue along the vein that pulsed beneath his skin.
Billy came with Teddy's name on his lips and his fingers buried in Teddy's hair, his back arched entirely off the blanket and every muscle trembling. He cried out and then he laughed as he collapsed, ran fingers down over Teddy's neck and shoulders and murmured sweet, ridiculous things that Teddy secretly catalogued and treasured, one by one.
oooOooo
It was past midnight by the time they got back to Teddy's apartment, and tumbled, laughing, into bed. It wasn't until ten the next morning that Teddy remembered to check his messages, the flashing red light so much less important than Billy's hands and Billy's mouth and the hotsweetslick of being buried deep inside him.
Tom's voice was pensive, and he sounded distracted when he spoke. "Call me when you get in," said the message, tinny and filtered through the speakers of Teddy's phone. "I found something interesting."
