Title: Special K (Part Five of Nancy Boy)
Author: mao
Disclaimer: All the characters, likenesses, and original plot lines belong to Todd Haynes, Michael Stipe, and all those fabulous people. The lyrics at the beginning and the title belong to Placebo, from their song of the same name. If you can think of a way for me to make money at this legally, let me know. Otherwise, you know the drill. ;)
Author's Notes: This is short an' sweet. It's a bit cheesy. I do have a sex scene written, but for reasons of rating, I'll leave it off here. If you really want it, email me and I'll get it to you. Otherwise, it's complete. Also: this was written at work, so the formatting's a little weird. It'll get fixed, I promise.
Warnings: Just a touch of language.
Dedication: for Katy, you doss cunt. Je t'aime.
***
You headed home alone, fell asleep in the bed that still smelled of him, and tried not to wonder where he's been. You saw him slip off with Curt, but knew better than to follow him. He's an adult, you kept telling yourself, all night.
He can handle himself.
You tossed and turned, looking out into the unseasonably warm night, watching the stars disappear into the gradually fading sky. The black became blue, which bled into pink and gold as the sun came up. You know that you must have slept, because you wake up mid-afternoon, the blankets pulled tight under your chin, Arthur's scent in your nose.
Don't think about that, you tell yourself automatically.
You know what a star like Curt is used to. And you know Arthur, young and inexperienced and (wonderful) innocent, would gladly have given it to him. You can't let yourself be hurt. He'll be hurting, and you need to be strong for him.
Besides, it's not as if you ever defined to him how you felt.
Maybe he thinks he's just a piece of ass.
You throw the bedclothes back, shivering in the dropped temperature of the room. You pull your robe on, head for the kitchen.
He's sitting there with Billy and Malcolm. The three of them have cups of tea and are laughing about something. The moment Arthur sees you, he blushes, turns his head away. He gets up, bustles to the stove still in last night's clothes, you see and gets another mug. He puts a teabag in, then pours water from the kettle on top.
"It's still hot," he tells you, handing you the cup and kissing you on the cheek.
He's never done that in front of them before.
Unbidden, you can feel a rage building up inside you. It's one thing to go and sleep with Curt you would have been hard-pressed to make a decision like that until a few weeks ago yourself but to treat you this way.
As if things have only gotten better?
Kissing you on the cheek?
You grip the cup tightly, sit at the table with the rest of them.
Arthur gives you a look, then places his cup gently in the sink and goes off to the bathroom, presumably to shower and clean Curt's scent off himself.
Billy nudges you gently with his elbow, and you take a sip of the tea before realizing it hasn't steeped yet.
"You alright there?"
You try to nod, then give up, shake your head.
"What's wrong?" Malcolm's looking at you with that penetrating gaze of his, and you can feel your mental shields going up. He used to look at you that way right before he'd wipe a smudge of his lipstick off your neck or your thigh or your
"Thought you'd be delighted," Billy offers.
"Yeah. No more awkwardness, you know?" Malcolm drains his teacup.
What the fuck are they talking about?
You don't realize you've actually said that until they exchange a meaningful kind of glance, then turn back to you. Then, like machine-gun fire.
Malcolm: "He didn't tell you?"
Billy: "Well, I guess he wouldn't would he?"
Malcolm: "Yeah, he did just get home."
Billy: "And he might be a little embarrassed."
Malcolm: "It is an awfully personal thing."
Billy: "I was surprised he told us."
Malcolm: "Well, he was pretty giddy."
Billy: "Completely redefines your relationship, this does."
And you can't take them, their casual banter, the fact that they think you don't know. You saw the expression Curt gave Arthur, from under the heavily-lined lids of his eyes, the knowing gaze as he looked your man up, down, examining.
"Look, I know he fucked Curt, alright?"
They're both looking at you, confused.
"Huh?" Malcolm's slack-jawed confusion explains everything.
Huh?
What does that mean?
Uh-oh.
"No he didn't," Billy says after a long, silent, agonizing moment.
What?
"But I saw them together," you point out, angry. Are they trying to hide this from you? You know what you saw, and there was Curt, Arthur's idol, giving your perfect, innocent (sexy) boy full-force with his bedroom eyes. Hell, before Arthur, you would gladly have disappeared with him.
But not now.
"I saw them go off together. And I didn't say anything becauseÉ" It dawns on you. "I love him.
"I didn't want to upset him. Didn't want to control him," the words come out of your mouth too quickly after the admission, but it seems almost as if Malcolm and Billy didn't hear the last part. Instead, Malcolm is clapping his girlish hands in excitement, and Billy is grinning broadly.
"Really?" Malcolm.
"This is so perfect." Billy.
"What is?" You stare into your tea, unable to look at their delighted faces. And then, suddenly, it's clear.
"He didn't sleep with Curt," it dawns on you. Malcolm is shaking his head.
"Nope. They spent the whole night talking about you." He's grinning, his features all dancing in glee.
"He loves you," Billy says.
And you're down the hall, into your room, where Arthur is dressing. He blanches when he sees you dart into the room, clearly remembering the cool expression you gave him earlier. He pulls a jumper over his head, averts his eyes.
There's no right way to say it. No correct words they're all too flowery or imperfect; too something or other for what you want to say. So instead, you stand in the door, say it simply.
"I love you, too."
He looks at you, his eyes the same pale blue as the sweater, and then he's in your arms, a moving bundle of itchy wool and hot flesh, grinning mouth and darting kisses. You close the door behind you as you land on it with a thump, and then you abandon yourself to the bliss he's finally chosen.
You'll never need another drug again.