Antoine didn't worry about commuting with Preston to work. Ever since his little chat with Rhonda, he knew she wouldn't ask about them travelling together again. Rhonda, "Rowdy," the so called "Ma Proton" herself would avoid an investigation at all costs. She'd keep her name clean for too long to ruin it now.
Antoine knew that didn't mean she'd given up. He thought about that as he tossed his backpack into the rear seat of Preston's sedan and stared out the moon roof. "I still can't believe you chose a Cadillac," he observed.
Preston shrugged. "I like the look of the CT6; and my father always had Cadillacs. I guess that's one thing he and I have in common." Preston fell quiet and focused on driving. Antoine went back to his thoughts.
Preston wasn't safe, not by a long shot. At least he'd staved off Rhonda's attacks for the moment while she regrouped. He was more concerned what Rhonda would do in, no when, she found out about the cohabitation arrangement he had with Preston. Antoine knew he wasn't book smart, but he'd been around the block a few times. It would take Rhonda nothing more than a phone call to Human Resources under some guise of legit inquiry, and she'd have their address.
While Preston got himself settled, Antoine slogged down to the end of the driveway to check the mail. It had finally snowed, but the alternating winter and warmth meant there would be no powdery white blanket this Christmas. The snow was heavy and wet, gobbets of slush that ranged from off-white to brown. It was like walking through perpetual mud. Very cold mud.
Antoine brought the mail in and tossed it on the counter then went to change into something more comfortable. Mostly bills and junk. Something that looked like a Christmas card envelope.
That was a first. Antoine didn't get Christmas cards. He neither sent, nor received any. He hadn't even thought about Christmas with Preston, and mentally kicked himself. He should at least get his roomie a card.
"Hey Preppy, you got mail," he called out, not bothering to read the address. He settled down into his den in the basement. Antoine switched on his game console, and fired up the TV. Grand Theft Walrus. With cheat codes enabled, of course. He turned up the bass, and prepared to immerse himself with some serious havoc in Liberty City when he heard Preston yelling something from the top of the stairs.
Pause.
Sigh.
"What's up, Prep?" he asked, leaning back and looking towards the door.
Preston held the card envelope out. "You might want to come up here a minute."
Antoine gave his game a longing look, then padded up to the kitchen hall. "What's up?" He repeated, confused.
"You might want to look at this." Preston offered him the envelope. "It's addressed to both of us."
Antoine blinked in surprise. It was indeed addressed to Mister A. Radison and Mister P. Tucci. He was also surprised that Preston hadn't opened it. Antoine shrugged. "It's from Waylon and Burnsie," he observed. "So now we gotta send them a card." He lifted it out of Preston's hand. "You, uh, you do anything for Christmas with your family or anything?"
Preston shook his head. "Not really, to be honest. They generally go on a pacific cruise for the holidays."
Antoine regarded Preston silently for a moment, thinking. He tried to picture Preston lying out on a pool chair on the deck of some cruise ship. He couldn't see it. It had taken significant prodding to get his dear friend to join him on the beach. Antoine smiled at the memory. He couldn't wait for their next trip. He reached out and threw an arm around Preston's neck, planting a warm kiss on the thin man's cheek.
Preston blushed furiously. "Jeeze," he muttered shyly. "What was that for?"
Antoine smirked. "I don't have boundaries or impulse control and it seemed like a good idea at the time." He tore the envelope open and shook the card into his hand.
It wasn't what he'd expected. A single, non-folded piece of fancy looking stationary. He handed it over to Preston without reading it, and leaned against the counter.
Preston read the card, then put a hand to his mouth. His face whitened, then blushed. Antoine watched curious as Preston rotated through a whole rainbow of hues, all without speaking. Preston sat down quickly, and looked both happy and awkward at the same time. Antoine was perplexed. He gave Preston a what's up with you? gesture.
"It's not a Christmas card," Preston said, struggling to suppress whatever emotion it was he felt. Antoine couldn't even tell anymore. Joy? Embarrassment? Shock? Preston's brown eyes were wide, his face oddly flushed. He struggled to maintain his composure, but he didn't look upset, at least not to Antoine. What is going on with him now? Antoine thought perplexed. He reached out and snagged the card. Once he read it, he understood better. Everything was simply written: black ink on a cream background.
Waylon and Montgomery
Request the pleasure of your company
Cordially invite you to join them
In the celebration and joy
Of their union.
The date listed was April eighteenth, the location: Burns Manor. A further note at the bottom added that this was a small and discrete event.
It didn't surprise Antoine all that much. He smiled. "Eh! Good for them. 'Bout time too." He set the card on the table. "You okay, Preppy?"
Preston seemed to be wrangling with an entire street gang of emotions. Antoine wondered vaguely what that must feel like. Preston was a curious, sensitive little creature who had feelings Antoine didn't even know existed. Such traits made him all the more endearing to Antoine.
"I'm fine," Preston replied, struggling with his expressions. "I just… I'm one of these people who…"
Antoine interrupted him, remembering. "I know," he purred. "You get weepy at movies. You're probably the sort that cries at wedding too, right?"
"I do." Preston hid his face in his hands, but Antoine could see his skin redden. Antoine debated indulging his urge to embrace Preston; actually resisted for a moment or two before giving in. Oh, what the hell, he decided. Antoine swooped in behind Preston and wrapped his arms around Preston's neck. He rested his chin on Preston's shoulder, close enough to smell the cologne Preston wore. "You're shy when you're adorable. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Preston reached back and patted Antoine's head. "Only you."
Antoine let his lips brush across Preston's hair. "Well then, that means I'm your first!" He stood up and ran a hand through Preston's artfully tousled locks. "That means you'll never forget me." He beamed, and jotted down the date on their calendar. "I'm going to go downstairs, blow off some steam with the good ol' Playstation. I'm not really hungry, so are you okay fending for your own dinner tonight?"
Preston nodded. "I'll make myself a sandwich or something."
Antoine paused. "I've got a few bottles of kombucha in the fridge if you want one. You should have one. I made a batch with chia seeds this time. Help yourself, you know?" Antoine turned on his heel, and trotted downstairs.
He sat on the couch and unpaused the game, but his mind was elsewhere. Preston had gotten so giddy over a simple piece of paper. Silly little Preston, dear little Preston. A mystery to Antoine in so many ways. Antoine already knew how he felt. He loved Preston. It was that simple. Antoine was fairly certain Preston loved him too, though maybe not in the same way. Antoine had never asked Preston to explain the nature of his feelings in their dynamic. It was something Antoine wasn't sure he wanted to hear.
What if he wants us to be more than what we are now? Antoine wondered as he drove his car through the streets of the game. I mean, Antoine reasoned, I'm sure he's got his own wants, hopes and desires in this. I wanna make him happy; that makes me happy. Antoine flipped his car over a ramp. His character leapt to safety and quickly hijacked a new vehicle. A virtual vehicle Antoine promptly crashed.
"I'm driving like crap today," he muttered out loud. This was supposed to be his time to decompress. If anything, it was adding to the mix. He paused the game and leaned back. Well, shit, he thought decisively. Antoine pulled his tee-shirt off over his head and absentmindedly rubbed his stomach.
"Hey, Preston!" he bellowed, throwing his head back towards the door.
He heard Preston's sock feet on the floor above him. The door creaked open. "What's up?" Antoine called from the top of the stairs.
"I'm done playing games. Come down here?" Though Antoine phrased it as a request, he hoped Preston wouldn't say no.
Preston came down a few steps. "What's up?"
Antoine stretched out. "I guess I just want to watch a movie with you, that's all." He gestured to the seat next to him.
"Which movie?"
"Whatever you pick out."
Preston hesitated. "What if it's something cheesy?"
Antoine shrugged. "You wanna watch one of your romance flicks? I'm down with that." He patted the couch hopefully.
"Let me go get one," Preston replied. He scurried off. Antoine listened to the patter of his feet across the floor above. A few moments later he heard Preston trotting down the stairs. He made his way lightly over to Antoine's game console and removed the disk. He set it to the side and put in a DVD.
"What are we watching?" Antoine asked, curious.
"The Devil Wears Prada." Preston handed the box to Antoine, who examined it thoroughly.
"I've heard of it, never seen it," Antoine admitted. "This doesn't sound like a romance film," he added, reading the back.
Preston settled in on the couch. "It's not. But it's one of my favorites."
Antoine shrugged. "Fair enough." He scanned through the list of actors as Preston cued up the film. "Hey, it's got Stanley Tucci in it. Is he some relative of yours?"
Preston laughed. "No, not at all. Don't you even know who Stanley Tucci is?"
Of course Antoine didn't know. He'd never had the time to keep track of actors and actresses. Too many names, so many faces. An endless parade. He had too much to worry about in his own life to focus on someone else's. Other than Preston's, of course.
"Cesar Flickerman."
"What?" Antoine replied, looking confused. The nickname he'd occasionally earned from his blue hair.
Preston laughed and patted Antoine's bare flank happily. "No, not you! Cesar Flickerman from The Hunger Games. Stanley Tucci played him."
"Oooh," Antoine observed, realization dawning. "I get it. So he's that guy." Antoine smirked. "Does he have blue hair in this too?"
Preston gave Antoine a friendly jab. "Just hush up and watch the movie." He settled in against Antoine's side. Antoine reached out, drawing the familiar warmth that was Preston closer to him. He loved to feel Preston's skin against his. He raised his arm for a second while Preston readjusted himself, then laid it back down across the thin man's back. "Alright then," Antoine hummed. "Here we go, watching your movie. You know, I must really like you to for this…" He let his voice trail off. Despite the images on the screen, Antoine found his eyes kept drifting back to Preston at his side.
Maybe we'll never be like Burns and Waylon, he thought quietly. But as long as Preppy's happy, and I'm happy, that's good enough for me. He stroked Preston's narrow back lightly. Spending the holiday season and hopefully many more in the company of his truest friend? Best Christmas present ever!
That night, as they curled up together, Preston asked him a question he wasn't expecting, about what sort of person he should be in public. Antoine was admittedly taken back by that, failed to initially comprehend the remark. Once Preston explained better, about taking on a role of sorts to handle the mingling and public speaking, Antoine understood completely. A mask. A public façade. Antoine knew all about those.
"Pick something that's easy to maintain for long periods of time, Preppy," Antoine explained. "Something that's an extension of your nature. Me? I'm a goof. Each new school I tried to set myself into the role of class clown. It helped me fit in." Antoine rolled on his back and looked at the dark ceiling. "You're serious, and sometimes you can quite the overbearing. So, eh, why not go with yuppie playboy? You know: young, rich, smart, educated. Flashy. It's practically you anyway. You've got the car, looks and brains. Now, all ya gotta do is be 'all that,' you know?"
Preston's head was on his chest. "You think I'm smart, good looking?"
"Does the pope wear a pointy hat? Of course I do. You don't need to impress me. Now you just have to get the city to see you like I do, and you'll be society's golden boy. I'd like to see that, you smooth talking and making ladies swoon."
Preston draped an arm over Antoine's chest. "Wouldn't you get jealous?"
Antoine pretended to think for a moment? Jealous? Nope. Not him. Perhaps if he were normal, or gay. But Antoine had to admit he couldn't consider himself either. Special little fucked up snowflake, he thought with a twinge of humor. The idea of seeing Preston prancing about was both amusing and exciting at the same time. For some reason, he liked the idea of watching Preston flaunting his assets to the world.
"It's just an act, so what do I have to worry about, right?"
"Exactly," Preston agreed.
Antoine lay still for a moment, thinking. Finally, he asked a question he hoped would not shock Preston. More, he wanted to test the waters of his own comfort. "Hey Prep?"
"What's up," asked Preston softly.
"Would you mind, eh… if you don't mind… do you think you could rub my belly a little?"
Preston didn't say anything, didn't move, and Antoine was beginning to fear he'd crossed some invisible line when he felt Preston's smooth hand gliding on his side. Antoine held his breath as Preston's hand moved in a circular motion across his chest, sliding lower, caressing his soft stomach. Antoine's body was still. His mind was a whirlwind. He concentrated on the sensation as Preston's fingers slid lower still, sliding along the waistband of his pajamas. Respectfully, Preston's hand didn't roam further. Antoine didn't need to be a mind-reader to know what Preston was thinking. Preston was naïve, but inquisitive.
There had been moments that could've turned into something more… then Antoine would explain his limits gently but firmly. Not that he was opposed to testing boundaries, of course, he did that all the time; but it had to be on his terms. Cuddling was fine, but there was an invisible line in their friendship he was unwilling to cross. Fortunately, Preston never pushed the issue.
He savored the sensation of Preston's cool fingers on his hot skin, noting how Preston's hand had slowed. He reached over and pulled the blanket further up Preston's back. His thin partner snuggled in deeper, and made a sleepy sound. Like clockwork it seemed he fell asleep at exactly ten thirty every night. "That's nice," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Goodnight, Antoine."
"Night, Prep," Antoine replied. Unlike Preston, he felt wide awake. He closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to come.