"Are you sure you shouldn't just come home now?" asked Dave. "Can't you reschedule?"
"The partner's insisting we stay," said Sebastian. "It's a really important client, and we've been prepping for this deposition for weeks." Dave heard his husband sigh through the phone. "Look, I'd rather be home with you, too, but we'll probably be fine."
"'Probably' isn't good enough," pushed Dave. "This coronavirus thing is getting serious. The NBA just suspended its season."
"Wasn't that just because that one player was dumb and licked all the microphones at a press conference or something?"
"Thank god that dude isn't one of my clients," said Dave. "And yeah, I think that's a big part of it – he tested positive for the virus."
"Well shit." Sebastian sighed again. "Look, I know it's not a good time for me to be stuck in Paris without you. But it'll just be a couple more days, and then I'll be on a plane back to New York, and then we can make out for, like, a really long time."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay. Good luck with the deposition tomorrow."
"Thanks, Bear Cub. Love you."
"Love you too, Seb."
Dave put his phone down on his desk and stared out the window. The sun was shining, and everything looked normal, which was odd since he kept hearing about how everything was going to hell.
"Hey man, you going to be in tomorrow?" Ben, Dave's coworker, stuck his head into Dave's office.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" asked Dave.
"It's getting crazy out there," said Ben. "A bunch of people are talking about working from home."
Dave felt his stomach clench, but he laughed through it. "Like who, Scott? He works from home all the time, anyway."
"Kyle, too."
Dave paused. Kyle, their boss, almost never took advantage of the fact that their office had no real facetime requirement for its agents. "Well, then, I guess I'll play it by ear."
"Stay safe out there, dude," said Ben.
"You too, man," said Dave. "See you tomorrow, maybe."
As Ben walked away, Dave picked up his phone again and opened Twitter, then closed it again almost immediately. He'd been scrolling through the app before Sebastian called, and it had just freaked him out more. No one seemed to really know what was going on or what would happen next.
A series of emails streamed into his inbox. Grateful for the distraction, Dave turned his attention back to his work.
"This is a disaster," Kurt's voice wailed into Dave's ear as soon as he answered his phone. "Everything! They're closing everything! We're supposed to open this weekend! You and Sebastian have tickets!"
"Kurt, slow down," said Dave. "What do you mean, they're closing everything?"
"Broadway! All of the theatres are going dark. By order of the mayor or the governor or the Broadway League or something, I don't know. I just know Blaine and I were supposed to open our show this weekend, but now that's apparently not going to happen."
"Oh, damn," said Dave. "Do they know how long? Like, a week or two?"
"At least a month," said Kurt. "This is just awful. We're only supposed to be doing a twelve-week limited engagement."
"Maybe they'll let you extend it?"
"The theatre is booked with another show right after ours is supposed to close," Kurt said miserably.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"I hope so," said Kurt. "Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know right away, since I know you and Sebastian were looking forward to coming to see us. Hopefully we'll be able to reschedule for you."
"I'll tell Seb," said Dave. "Send our love to Blaine. And stay safe."
"Everyone keeps saying that," Kurt sighed. "You too."
As soon as Kurt hung up the phone, Dave typed out a text to Sebastian.
They're closing down Broadway – Kurt just called me in a panic
Dave put his phone down and tried to get back to work. Sebastian was in a deposition; it could be hours before he was able to look at his phone and respond.
Dave's phone buzzed less than a minute later.
Fuck. I've been seeing rumors on Twitter, but I was hoping they weren't true
Well, unfortunately, guess that one's verified. Kurt kept apologizing – he knows we had tickets to opening night. So we can take that off our calendars for this weekend
Finally, something good to come of all this
Sebastian! We were looking forward to it!
No, YOU were looking forward to it. I was planning to anonymously write a bad review and submit it to the Times
We're FRIENDS with Kurt and Blaine now, remember?
We WERE friends. Then they sat us next to Rachel at that fundraising gala last month. We are currently NOT friends
Okay, that's fair
How are you so free to text? Is the deposition still happening?
Yeah, I've just been distracted. Every time I look, there's some new breaking news – hard to look away
Yeah, same. Miss you
Miss you too, babe. I'll call when we're done for the day
Sounds good. Talk soon
xoxo
Dave smiled and sent a kiss emoji back. He couldn't wait for Sebastian to get home. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
"Can we go off the record for a minute?" asked the attorney representing the opposing party. Sebastian had shaken the woman's hand that morning, among half-joking comments that maybe they should all be fist-bumping instead, but he couldn't remember her name for the life of him. Something boring, like Leah or Laura or Lauren.
"Going off the record at 1:42 p.m.," said the videographer from the other end of the table.
"Tom, as you know, we have cross-noticed this deposition. I estimate I have about four hours of questioning. You've already been on the record for four hours – James, I know you're a third party. Is Mr. Johnson willing to stay for more than seven record hours today? Or would he prefer to come in tomorrow?"
Sebastian, who had been checking Twitter on his phone, sat up straighter and turned off his screen. Tomorrow?
"We had hoped to get this done in one day," said James. "Tom, how much do you have left?"
"I think I can get it done in another hour," said Tom, the partner Sebastian was traveling with. Sebastian kept his expression neutral, but he winced internally. If Tom thought he had an hour left, it was probably closer to two.
"Well, if you've got an hour, and Lena has four, that's five more hours – we can't do all of that tonight," said James. "Are both of you available to go into tomorrow, if that works on our end?"
"Yes," said Lena.
No, thought Sebastian.
"Yes, we can do that if that's what we have to do," said Tom.
James turned to the deponent, Mr. Johnson. "Steve, let's chat privately for just a minute and see if we can work this out." He looked back to the other attorneys. "Short break okay?"
"Of course. Let's say five minutes?" said Tom.
"Sure, we'll be right back," said James, leaving the room with Mr. Johnson. Lena left the room as well, gesturing for the associate she'd brought with her to come, too.
Tom turned to Sebastian. "Can you email Travel about changing our flights? See if there's a late flight tomorrow. If not, have them book another night in the hotel, too, so we can leave first thing Saturday morning."
"Will do."
"Don't kill me."
"Seb, you know I hate it when you start phone calls like that."
"If you promise not to kill me, I'll try to stop?"
"What did you do?" asked Dave. Sebastian could hear him pacing through the phone.
"Turns out, I'll be in Paris until Saturday," said Sebastian, steeling himself for Dave's reaction. For an alarmingly long time, none came. "Dave? Did I lose you?"
"No, I' m still here," said Dave. "So you can't come home tomorrow? What happened?"
"The deposition is running long, so we're finishing it tomorrow morning. They've cut way back on flights, so the earliest we can get back to the States is Saturday."
"I really hate this," said Dave quietly.
Sebastian stared out the window of his hotel. "Yeah, me too."
"I know. I know you'd be here if you could be."
"Have you been grocery shopping this week?" asked Sebastian.
"Not yet," said Dave. "Work's been crazy. But I'm planning to go Saturday."
"Good. Maybe put in an order online, too, for some staples – I've been seeing pictures, and it looks like a lot of places are running out of stock."
"Yeah, that's a good idea. Luckily, we stocked up on toilet paper a few weeks ago," said Dave with a small laugh.
"Who would've thought there'd be a run on toilet paper, of all things?" said Sebastian, rolling his eyes. "What about soup? Dayquil? Nitrile gloves?"
"I guess people figured it's the one thing they can't live without."
"I mean, yeah, but how much do people expect to need? It's not like the stores are going to shut down."
"Probably not," said Dave, "but I guess we don't really know what's going to happen. Italy's on lockdown, right?"
"Yeah, I've been hearing about that – it sounds really bad over there."
"How do things seem in France?"
"Okay, so far?" said Sebastian with a shrug. "Everyone seems a little on edge, and anyone who coughs immediately gets a six-foot bubble of personal space, but most people are just trying to go about business as usual. How's New York?"
"About the same, I think," said Dave. "I'm still planning to go into the office tomorrow, since I've got a meeting, but beyond that, I'm not sure. People are starting to post on social media about 'self-isolation' – I don't know if we're there yet, but it's starting to sound pretty convincing."
"Take care of yourself, Dave. Okay?"
"You too, Seb. Love you. Get some rest. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Love you, too."
"Who else are we expecting?" asked Kyle. The conference room, set for twelve people, was currently only occupied by Kyle, Dave, and Angela, another agent. Several others had dialed into the meeting from home.
"I think this might be it," said Dave, mentally comparing the list of expected attendees against the list of people who had called in.
Kyle looked grim; Angela subtly scooted her chair a little further away from the other two.
"Yeah, I went ahead and started the whole 'social distancing' thing," said Ben through the speakerphone.
"Probably a good call," said Kyle. "Okay, let's get started."
"Good work today, Sebastian. Usually I'd suggest we go out for dinner, but given the current climate, we might be better off going up to our rooms and ordering room service," said Tom.
"That sounds like a smart plan, sir," said Sebastian.
"What time are we meeting in the lobby tomorrow?"
"Early – our flight is at 7, so I've got a car scheduled for 4:30."
Tom grimaced. "At least we can sleep on the plane."
"Sounds good to me!" said Sebastian. "Have a good evening, Tom."
Sebastian hadn't made it all the way into his room before he called Dave. He impatiently began flipping through the room service menu while it rang. Finally, he answered.
"Hey, how's it going?" Dave sounded tired.
"Not bad," said Sebastian. "The dep went well – we wiped the floor with this guy, and opposing counsel just spent most of today trying to clean up the pieces of their case."
"Have you checked the news?"
Sebastian felt his stomach drop. "Not in a few hours, why?"
"I think you'll still be able to make it home, but they're limiting travel from Europe to the U.S., starting tonight at midnight."
"Wait, what?" said Sebastian, turning on the TV and opening his laptop.
"They're saying U.S. citizens will still be allowed in, but they're starting a travel ban at midnight Eastern," said Dave. "I've been trying to find out as much as I can, but no one really knows what's going on."
"Fuck," swore Sebastian. "Why couldn't we have just finished the deposition yesterday like we'd planned?"
"Yeah, that would've been good."
"Hey, it's not like I want to be stranded in Paris," Sebastian snapped. "I'm doing everything I can here."
"I know. This just sucks a lot."
"Yep." Sebastian's phone beeped with an incoming call. He sighed. "This is Tom calling. I'm guessing he's heard about the travel ban, too. I have to take this."
"Go; we'll talk later."
"Thanks," said Sebastian. He looked up at the ceiling, took a breath, and switched over to Tom's call. "Hi, Tom."
"Have you heard about this travel ban? What are we going to do? Can we still make it home?"
Sinking into the nearby chair, Sebastian prepared himself for a longer-than-necessary conversation with the partner.
Dave stood in the doorway of his office, bag in hand, and looked around a little longer than usual. As far as he knew, his office had no plans to close, but he hadn't decided whether he was going to come in Monday or not. Either way, he had what he needed.
The building was nearly empty as he walked out. Most people had been home all day, and those that had been in earlier had mostly left. Dave had stayed later than usual, trying to make sure he was ahead before . . . whatever happened next. His subway station was similarly quiet, compared to a usual Friday night.
Standing near the subway door, he scrolled through his emails. It seemed that every single corporation that had his email address had decided to assure him that they were taking measures to stop the spread of COVID-19. Several of the emails were announcing closures or changes in hours. Their apartment building had shut down their gym earlier in the afternoon, which Dave still thought was premature. Things were bad, but they weren't that bad, were they?
He wished he could talk to Sebastian. If Sebastian were there, he could help Dave figure out just how concerned he should be. As it was, he just hoped Sebastian could get on that flight in a few hours and be home soon.
The train pulled up to his stop. Climbing up the subway stairs to street level, Dave was struck by how normal everything seemed. Sure, there were fewer people than usual, and the people who were out were giving each other a wider berth than usual, but people were still going in and out of the restaurants along his street, and cars still whizzed past.
His phone started ringing as soon as he got into his apartment. He answered without looking at the caller ID. "Sebastian?"
"What? No, it's Kurt."
"Oh. Hi, Kurt. I just thought Sebastian might be calling – he's still trying to get back from France. But with the time difference, he's probably asleep right now."
"He's still in France? Is he even going to be able to get back?"
"I sure hope so!" said Dave with a thin laugh. He was starting to come around to Sebastian's perspective on the status of their friendship with Kurt and Blaine.
"Sorry, I know you must be worried sick. Sending lots of good vibes. Hopefully he'll get home soon!"
Dave softened. "Thanks. He's supposed to be on a flight first thing in the morning."
"So are Blaine and I – that's why I called," said Kurt. "I wanted to let you know, the two of us are going back to Ohio. I hate being away from Dad and Carol, and we want to get out of here before it gets any worse."
"Oh," said Dave. "But you're – you still feel okay traveling?"
"We don't love it, of course, but we're going to be careful, and we're going to self-isolate away from Dad and Carol as much as we can for the first week or two."
"First week or two? How long are you staying?"
Kurt paused. "We're not sure. We just booked one-way tickets for now."
"Oh. Well, then, I guess we'll see you when we see you."
"I guess so. Text me when Sebastian gets home, okay?"
"Yeah. And you text me when you make it home to Ohio, okay?"
"Yeah. Take care of yourself, David."
"You too."
"Pick up, pick up, pick up," muttered Sebastian to himself, pacing the terminal of the Charles de Gaulle airport.
"Wha's wrong?" Dave slurred, half awake.
"Don't panic, and I'm so sorry to call at like 3 a.m. or whenever it is in New York by now, but our flight was cancelled and I just needed to hear your voice."
"Wait, did you just say your flight was cancelled?" Dave sounded much more awake now.
"Yes," said Sebastian. "Tom's calling around now, which is part of how I know it's bad – normally, he'd just have me do it. We might try to get to England and fly from there? I don't know yet."
"Fuck. Why was your flight cancelled? I didn't think there was a total ban or anything – U.S. citizens are still supposed to be able to get home!" Dave's desperation was palpable through the phone.
"I know, babe." Sebastian ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the wall. "Fuck. I fucking hate this."
"Me too."
"Look, I'm sorry I called – you should be sleeping. And it's not like there's anything you can do to help." Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut. He was just so tired.
"No, I'm glad you called. Keep me posted, okay? I – I want to know where you are," Dave said, his voice cracking.
"Fuck, Bear Cub, don't make me cry in a Parisian airport. It's too cliché."
Dave laughed shakily. "Can't have that, can we?"
Tom, no longer on the phone, waved at Sebastian from across the hallway, gesturing for him to follow and then taking off down the terminal. "Look, Dave, I've got to go. I think Tom has figured something out."
"Okay. Let me know as soon as you know anything."
"Of course. See you soon, hopefully."
Sunlight was streaming through Dave's bedroom window the next time he opened his eyes. He immediately reached for his phone. No missed calls, but twelve texts from Sebastian:
We're boarding a flight to the UK. Tom says it'll be easier to get home from there
On the ground at Heathrow
Waiting at the gate – we're listed on an American Airlines flight that's supposed to leave at 11:20 British time and land at JFK at 2:05 Eastern time
I would kill for a bagel right now
You'd think with all the talk of 'English breakfast' there'd be more breakfast options in this damn airport
I hope you're still sleeping, but if you happen to wake up before we take off, feel free to call
God, I look so desperate, texting you a bunch of times in a row
This is so embarrassing
Is it more embarrassing if I keep texting you to tell you it's embarrassing? Probably
FINALLY boarding this damn plane
I might try to connect to the plane's wifi, but I'm probably going to be sleeping most of the flight, so if you don't hear from me it's a good thing
Going into airplane mode. Love you. See you in however many hours are between now and 2 Eastern
Dave let out a sigh of relief and typed out two quick messages: one via text ("Loved the play-by-play. No more embarrassing than you usually are! Love you too, and can't wait to see you soon – call when you land") and one via Facebook Messenger ("In case you DO have wifi on the plane, just wanted to tell you I got your messages. Love you, Seb – get some rest and see you soon!").
He checked the time. 8:30 a.m. So Sebastian had taken off about an hour ago, and he'd be back in New York in less than six hours. Thank god. Dave stretched and rolled over, considering going back to sleep for another hour or two. He was tired. Or he should be tired.
But he wasn't, so he decided to get up and go to the grocery store. Their regular grocery store was two subway stops away. Usually, it was perfect – the grocery store and their apartment were both right next to subway entrances, so it meant less walking with heavy grocery bags than some stores that were geographically closer to their building. Today, though, Dave considered going to one of the stores within walking distance. Being in an enclosed space with other people seemed like a bad idea.
But the closer store wasn't as good, and it was more likely to be out of things, and it would definitely be worse to have to go to multiple stores, plus he was only two weeks into this unlimited monthly metro card so he really owed it to himself to use it as many times as he could before he actually went into isolation.
The subway was pretty empty, anyway, and everyone seemed to be trying to keep their distance. Halfway to the first stop, Dave coughed. It was just a tickle in his throat – he was fine – but the three people sitting closest to him got up and moved to the other side of the car. Part of him wanted to explain himself, but mostly he was just happy to be further away from them, too.
The grocery store had most of the things he needed. There was almost no chicken, and the rice and beans were depleted, but he was able to get plenty of soup, pasta, eggs, and red meat. Dave also picked up a few pounds of apples, some milk, and a few other perishable items that wouldn't last as long but would at least make the first week or so better. Maybe by then, they'd be able to go to a store again. They could probably go sooner. But what if we can't?
The cashier was wearing gloves. Dave kept his distance. They smiled at each other thinly, but no one even attempted small talk.
Dave loaded his groceries into his reusable bags and went back to the subway, taking a moment to pause and look up at the sky. It was sunny and warm.
He didn't know how much he'd be going outside for a while.
He made his way down to the train platform. It still wasn't crowded by any means, but there were more people than he would've liked. It was impossible to stay six feet away from everyone. The train would be there in two minutes. It was 9:43. Sebastian would land in four hours, 22 minutes. Not that Dave was counting.
We're going to be okay.
I hope.
Sebastian squirmed in his seat. He'd managed to sleep most of the flight, but he'd woken up with less than an hour left, and he knew there was no hope of going back to sleep. He'd tried to connect to the plane's free wifi, but nothing was loading. He couldn't tell if it was actually down or just uselessly slow. Either way, after about ten minutes of attempting to refresh something – anything – without success, he gave up and started flipping through the channels on the TV on the back of the seat in front of him. He didn't bother plugging his headphones in, and there were no closed captions, which made it difficult to actually watch anything.
He finally settled on the flight information screen. Watching the tiny animated airplane inch closer to New York City was the closest thing to 'comforting' he'd seen in a while.
Sebastian was glad Tom was seated several rows away from him. He felt like he was going crazy, and he didn't want really want to be going crazy next to his boss. He was also glad he had a window seat. Usually, he hated being trapped like that, especially on long flights like this. But now, he was just happy he could look out the window for glimpses of the New York skyline.
Somewhere behind him, someone coughed. He pressed his lips together and tried to think about not breathing in particles of anything. He felt stupid – he knew it was nonsensical to think he could just avoid breathing in a virus. But he had to do something. He hated feeling so powerless.
The pilot's voice crackled through the plane's speakers. "Good afternoon, folks, we're closing in on our final destination. It's currently 57 degrees and sunny, with winds out of the west at about 13 miles per hour. We should be on the ground in about 20 minutes. I know a lot of you have had questions about what the procedure will be on the ground, given the new screening measures put in place to address the coronavirus outbreak. I've been in touch with the crew on the ground, and unfortunately we don't have all the details for you. I've been told there may be some delays in the deplaning process, but the flight crew and I will be here to assist and share information as it becomes available. Flight attendants, please prepare for arrival."
A flight attendant's voice came through the speaker immediately afterwards: "At this time, please put away your portable electronic devices. Handheld devices can continue to be used through landing. Please return your seat backs and tray tables to their upright and locked position. We'll be making one last pass through the cabin to collect any remaining service items you'd like to dispose of."
Sebastian started to put his head in his hands, then remembered he wasn't supposed to be touching his face and instead clenched his fists in frustration. Shouldn't the pilot know what was going to happen when they landed? Delays. What kind of delays?
He closed his eyes and took a breath. It would be okay. He'd be home soon. Not soon enough – yesterday wouldn't have been soon enough – but soon.
Dave paced around the apartment. He checked his phone again.
Still nothing.
It was only 1:58. Sebastian wasn't even supposed to land for another seven minutes. Of course he hadn't called or texted yet. He was still in the air. Everything was fine. He'd be home soon. And then they could hole up in their apartment and not leave for . . . however long it took.
Dave checked his phone again. 1:59. He kept pacing.
At 2:03, his phone rang. Sebastian. "Hey, Seb!"
"Finally on the ground," said Sebastian, sounding exhausted. "God, I can't wait to get off of this airplane."
"I can't wait, either," said Dave. "I just want you to be home. This stuff is starting to sound really serious."
"Yeah, no kidding. They still haven't told us exactly what we'll have to do to get through customs."
"What do you mean?"
Sebastian sighed heavily. "I wish I fucking knew. We've just been told to expect 'delays in the deplaning process.' Whatever the hell that means."
Dave's heart sank. "Shit. I'm guessing you don't know what kind of delays?"
"Nope."
"It can't be that bad, can it? Maybe just an extra 20, 30 minutes?"
"I swear to god if I have to sit on this airplane for another 20 or 30 minutes, I'll . . ."
"You'll what?"
"I don't know; I'm trying to think of something I could say that wouldn't get me detained. Turns out there are a lot of words you aren't supposed to say on an airplane."
Dave laughed. "Yeah, it's probably for the best you didn't finish that sentence."
"Anyway, I'll keep you posted, I guess. There's not really much else I can do."
"Thanks, babe. See you soon."
"Yeah. I'll call when I'm off the plane."
"Okay, talk to you then. Bye."
Sebastian squirmed in his seat. They'd made it to the gate by about 2:15. Passengers had been instructed to remain seated. When the jet bridge was connected and they opened the door, a gate agent had come in with a stack of forms, which the flight attendants had passed out, along with about a dozen pens that were slowly circulating the cabin. Sebastian had completed the form – with his own pen, thank you very much – in about five minutes. No, he had not had a fever in the past fourteen days; yes, he had traveled internationally in the last 30 days, to France and the United Kingdom; no, he had not, to his knowledge, been in contact with anyone who has tested positive for COVID-19.
It was now 2:50, and they were still sitting on the damn airplane. Flight attendants were finally starting to collect the forms, carefully picking them up with gloved hands.
At 2:57, the flight attendant came over the intercom again. "Thank you all so much for your patience. We have now been authorized to begin deplaning." The woman kept talking, but the rest of her announcement was lost to the sudden movement from the cabin. Sebastian hoped she hadn't said anything important, but he was too tired to care.
He usually made fun of the people who stood up too early on airplanes. It wasn't as if standing up would make the people in front of you move faster. But today, he stood up with everyone else. He may be in a window seat near the middle of the plane, but he'd be damned if he was going to stay seated on second longer than he had to. Even if he did have to hunch over to keep from hitting his head on the abysmally low ceiling.
As soon as he was able to get to the aisle, he grabbed his carryon out of the overhead bin in one fluid motion without missing a stride. Sebastian held back a grin. He was off the plane, and nothing could stop him now.
He and his fellow passengers were herded through the international terminal towards customs. With the number of cancelled flights, Sebastian figured, the line couldn't be that bad. He rounded the final corner and almost ran into the woman in front of him, who had stopped abruptly.
The line was worse than Sebastian had ever seen it. "Fuck," he swore. He looked for the Global Entry line. Scanning the crowd, he found an agent. He slipped past the other passengers and turned on his charm.
"Excuse me, ma'am, could you point me towards Global Entry? I can't seem to find it."
"No Global Entry," said the woman, barely looking at him.
"What?" Sebastian asked, caught off guard. "No, I have my Global Entry card right here –"
"No Global Entry," she repeated. "Everyone has to go through the main line. Screening measures."
"You're kidding. That's absurd!" he said before he could stop himself.
"Do I look like the kind of person who kids?" The agent looked at him as if he'd treaded on her last nerve. "Everyone goes through the main line. Unless you'd like me to order some additional screening for you, since you're so important?"
"Sorry, ma'am. I understand. Thank you for your assistance." He slipped back into the crowd before she could decide he needed the additional screening, after all. He made his way to what passed for the end of the line and pulled out his phone.
"Hey, Seb, what's going on? Are you through customs yet?"
"Not even close," said Sebastian. "I really hate that I'm telling you this, but I just got off the plane and now I'm stuck in the customs line from hell."
"What about your Global Entry?"
"Shh, if the lady guarding the line even sees me think the G-E word, I might get kicked out of the country," said Sebastian. "Apparently, with the additional coronavirus screening, they've shut down Global Entry. Because, you know, when there's a global pandemic with a highly communicable virus, I know my goal is to keep a bunch of international travelers together in a single line for as long as possible!"
"God, that sucks," said Dave. "Any idea how long this line is going to take?"
"Not really," said Sebastian. "It looks like it's moving, but I think there are more people in this line than in the state of Ohio."
Dave snorted. "It can't be that bad, can it?"
"I don't know, why don't you take a quick trip over a border and then try to get back into the country through JFK so you can check for yourself and let me know?" Sebastian asked sarcastically.
"I'll pass," said Dave. "Sorry, I just want you home. I'm worried about you."
"I'm worried about me, too," said Sebastian. "If I hadn't been exposed by now, I almost certainly have been, now."
"Don't talk like that," said Dave. "I need you to be all right."
"Yeah, I need me to be all right, too," said Sebastian. "I'm doing what I can, okay?"
"I know." Dave paused. "What do you want me to do? Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to distract you, or do you just want to hang up and talk later?"
"I don't know," said Sebastian. "Distract me?"
"Okay, let's see . . . I got a lot of good stuff at the grocery. Orange juice, and a bunch of ground beef, and shelf-stable stuff like pasta and soups. And I got fruit, too – the mangos were on sale, and they had a lot of apples."
"That sounds good," said Sebastian, brightening slightly. "Are we good on breads and cheeses?"
"Yeah, I think so. I got a nice block of New York cheddar, and a bunch of shredded cheese for tacos and pasta and stuff. And I got a loaf of bread, and some English muffins, and some mini doughnuts."
"And what about –"
"I also got two bags of those chips you like," said Dave.
"You know me so well, Bear Cub."
"Is the line moving any?"
Sebastian looked around, evaluating. "I guess, a little. Hard to really say. It's bunching up in places, so I think people are getting through, but I haven't moved yet."
"Sorry, Seb."
"Yeah, me too. Ugh, we should've been back yesterday. This is so dumb. I hate this. Why couldn't Mr. Johnson just answer questions faster?"
"Who?"
"The guy we were deposing. One of his answers was a forty-minute monologue."
"Seriously? Was it a really complicated question or something?"
"Nope. I checked the rough transcript – it was a yes or no question. The guy just loved to hear himself talk. Usually, I'd empathize, but under the circumstances, it just made me hate him a little."
"I think I hate him a little, too," said Dave.
"Tom said he'd never seen anything like it. Mr. Johnson's attorney came up to us on a break and said he'd never seen anything like it, either, and he's been practicing for like 50 years or something."
"Damn, that's almost impressive," said Dave. "So I take it you're not with Tom anymore?"
"No," said Sebastian. "I'm assuming he's around here, somewhere, but we weren't sitting together on the plane, and we didn't wait for each other when we got off." Sebastian looked at the line behind him. "Ah, there he is – he's a couple dozen people back, on the phone, too. Probably checking in with his wife. I think his kid's college was shut down this week, so they're probably figuring out the logistics of getting her home."
"Damn, that sucks."
"Yeah. Like, Tom's kid will probably be fine, since she's got a good home and her family's well off, but a bunch of students are getting screwed over by this."
"I've been thinking about that, too. I'm really glad neither of us are students right now. I don't even know what I would've done if I'd been kicked off campus in the middle of a semester."
"Mhmm. Tom and his wife are great, though – his kid's one of the lucky ones."
"So Tom's cool with you just leaving him or whatever?"
"Yeah, we usually go our separate ways at this point," said Sebastian. "I've traveled with him enough at this point to know the routine."
Dave laughed.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing, just – 'routine.' What does routine even mean at this point?"
Sebastian started laughing, too. He didn't stop. One of the men next to him started to edge away, glancing at him nervously.
"Uh, Seb, are you okay?"
"Of course not," he said. "How the fuck can any of us be okay right now?" He could feel the hysteria creeping into his voice.
"I know. This is shit. Everything's shit right now, and there's nothing we can do about it."
"Is this your version of a pep talk because I don't think it's working," said Sebastian.
"No. Yes? Sorry, I know it's shit, too, but it's all I've got right now."
Sebastian took a deep breath. "Once I make it home, I'm never leaving."
"Good, since there aren't that many places to go at this point," said Dave.
"True," said Sebastian. "Okay, I should probably hang up. I don't need to keep you on the phone. Besides, if we're about to be locked up together for an undetermined amount of time, we probably should be savoring the last of our time apart."
"What, worried you'll get sick of me?"
"Impossible. I'm just trying to delay the moment when you inevitably get sick of me and decide to shove me out our living room window."
"Not going to happen," said Dave. "With everything shut down, there's no guarantee they'd dispose of your body in a timely manner. And then there's the funeral – I don't think we're allowed to have those right now."
"Certainly not one that's up to my standards," Sebastian agreed.
"Then I've got no choice but to let you live," said Dave.
"Yep, my murder will just have to wait until the pandemic is over," said Sebastian seriously.
"Love you, Seb."
"Love you too, babe. Be home soon."
For what felt like the hundredth time that hour, Dave checked his phone. It had been about half an hour since Sebastian had texted him a screenshot of his Uber driver's profile – "If I die, it was this guy; if not, I'll be there in 34 minutes" – so he should be home any minute.
Almost on cue, Dave heard the click of their lock, and Sebastian opened the door. Grinning, Dave got up and took a step towards him.
"Stop!" said Sebastian, throwing down his bags. "Do not take one step closer until I've been thoroughly disinfected."
Rolling his eyes, Dave grabbed a container of Lysol wipes and threw them at Sebastian. "Start wiping, because I'm going to hug you in about thirty seconds whether you're covered in germs or not."
Sebastian made a face. "Fine, but if you die, it's on you."
"I think I can live with that," said Dave.
"Weren't you listening? If you die, then, by definition, you can't live with it."
"Okay, then I can die happy in the knowledge that I actually got to hug my husband one last time before my untimely demise," said Dave. He raised his eyebrows. "There, was that better?"
"Much," said Sebastian, putting down the Lysol container and taking off his jacket. He reached for his pants zipper.
"I'm excited to see you, too, babe, but right now?" asked Dave.
Sebastian gave him a withering glare. "Not that, you perv. My clothes have all been exposed to the outside world. They need to go into the washing machine immediately."
"Oh," said Dave, blushing. "Want me to help?"
"Emphatically, no," said Sebastian. "Can you just . . . I don't know, go back over to the couch? I'm going to throw everything in my suitcase into the wash, wipe everything down, and probably take a shower."
"If you throw your dry-clean-only suits into our washing machine, I'm going to call 911 because you clearly already have coronavirus and you're delirious with fever."
"Okay, not the suits," Sebastian relented. "But I'm going to wipe them down and then hang them up in a closet we aren't going to open for at least a week. Do they know how long this thing can survive on fabric yet?"
Dave shrugged. "Not sure. I just remember them saying it could live on cardboard for up to 24 hours, because that one scared me."
Sebastian whistled. "Shit. Okay, so no more deliveries."
"Yeah, trying to avoid having to go down to the lobby, anyway."
"True. Speaking of, I picked up our mail on the way in. Our census form arrived!"
"Oh, awesome! I've been wondering when that would show up," said Dave. "Other than that, I don't think we've been expecting any mail, so it shouldn't be a big deal if we don't go down and check for a while."
"Good," said Sebastian. "Now go sit down and let me sanitize!"
"But I'm more than six feet away!" Dave protested."
"I'm moving around and stirring up the air. Go!"
"Going," said Dave, putting his hands up in mock surrender and retreating back to the sofa. "Hey, Seb?"
"Yeah, Dave?"
"I'm glad you're home, even if you won't let me touch you yet."
"Me too."
About forty minutes later, after thoroughly scrubbing both himself and putting on a clean set of clothes, Sebastian collapsed onto the couch next to Dave.
"It's about time," said Dave. "I was starting to think you might've drowned in the shower."
"You know, I'm doing all this for you," Sebastian said. "I expected you to be at least a little bit grateful."
Dave shrugged. "If it was on your stuff, you probably got it, so you'll be contagious anyway."
"Wow, way to be defeatist," said Sebastian. "Guess I should just give up now. Got any fresh cardboard boxes I could lick?"
"No, but I'm sure there are a few in the refuse room if you want to go check."
"Maybe later, I'm feeling kind of jet lagged," said Sebastian, yawning.
"Didn't you sleep the whole plane ride?"
"You can't prove that," said Sebastian, kicking his feet up onto the couch and laying against Dave. "No witnesses."
"There's a whole plane full of witnesses."
"Yeah, but you don't know any of them. Besides, they're probably all dying of coronavirus by now."
"You were on an airplane with them like four hours ago," said Dave. "They're probably not dying yet."
"A few people coughed on the flight. You never know."
Dave put his arm around Sebastian and took his hand. "It was a long flight. People were bound to cough at some point."
Sebastian shrugged. He squeezed Dave's hand; it felt like a lifeline. "That's the thing, though. We don't really know. We don't know anything. And you know how much I hate not knowing things."
"Hate to break it to you, but it's probably going to be a long . . . however long this is going to be."
"Should we even be in New York right now?"
"Where else would we go? Back to Ohio?"
"Sure." Sebastian sat up and looked at Dave, wheels turning. "We could stay with my parents, or your dad. Whichever. We can go to the airport right now."
"Our lives are here. Our jobs, our apartment, all our stuff. Plus, I got us enough food to stay camped out up here for at least a month," said Dave. "Besides, do you really want to go back to an airport right now?"
"Fine, fuck it, we could rent a car, I don't care. We can get out of here."
"We really don't need to be traveling right now. I hate that you already had to travel," said Dave, furrowing his brow. "Do you think it would've been safer for you to stay in Paris? Your firm has an office there. You could've just stayed for a while, until this blows over."
"Not a chance," said Sebastian.
"Why? You love Paris."
"I like Paris," Sebastian corrected him. "I love you. And I'm always going to come home to you, wherever you are, whatever else is happening."
Dave smiled, and Sebastian felt warm. "No matter what?"
"Even if I have to run."
"You hate running."
"That's true." Sebastian paused, considering. "Okay, so if running is the only option, we'll have to talk, but as long as there is still a reasonable means of transportation, I'm here by your side."
"Good, because neither of us is going anywhere for a while."
"You remember that Fifth Harmony song about working from home?" asked Sebastian, waggling his eyebrows. "Could be fun."
"We're probably going to have to actually work," said Dave. "Aren't your clients freaking out?"
Sebastian sighed. "Probably, yeah. I've already got like six conference calls and WebEx meetings scheduled for Monday. I can't wait to see all the partners with their poorly framed videos."
"Do you think they'll get it figured out by the time all this is over?"
"Maybe if we're in quarantine for the rest of our lives," said Sebastian. "It never fails to amaze me how technologically illiterate these very intelligent people can be."
"At least we'll be able to make fun of them together."
"Best news I've heard all day."
"That's a low bar."
"Let's take whatever victories we can get," said Sebastian. "Hey, Dave?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"We're going to be okay."
"I hope so."
"No," said Sebastian with confidence. "We will be. However long this lasts, however bad it gets, we're going to be okay."
"How can you possibly know that?" asked Dave.
"Because we're together."
Dave snorted. "I'm sorry, I thought you were my husband, Sebastian. Maybe you've seen him – sexy, cynical, wouldn't be caught dead saying something so sappy?"
"Hmm, no, haven't seen him. I heard he was just on an international flight in the midst of a global pandemic; have you tried the morgue?"
"Nah, that's okay," said Dave. "His replacement's pretty cute, too. I think I'll keep him."
"Good choice." Sebastian smirked, looping his arms around Dave's neck and pulling himself into Dave's lap. "Now, I believe I promised you a make-out session once I was back."
"Well, we can't start our self-isolation with a broken promise, can we?"
"I wouldn't recommend it."