In the morning, that moment, when I knew it was you. When I could feel you breathing and we opened our eyes at the exact same time." ― Kate Chisman
Travis awoke from a restless sleep to a pounding in his head. No, wait – someone was pounding on his door. Rubbing at his eyes, he attempted to focus on the time, currently 2:32 AM, and wondered who the hell could possibly be abusing his door so late.
"Travis," a weak voice said, "please, just open the door."
Shit. "Hold on Wes, I'm coming, man." Quickly snagging a shirt off the floor, he pulled it on and stumbled to the door, opening it wide.
Wes stood on the other side, pale and half-drunk. One hand rested on the wall beside the door, the other perched on his hip. He stared at the ground, probably trying to steady himself. The appearance of Travis' feet in his line of vision invited him to look up.
"I was afraid you weren't going to answer," he admitted, voice thin.
Travis didn't say a word, just reached out a hand and helped the wobbling detective up the stairs and inside his home. He pulled Wes' suit jacket off, tossing it onto the nearest flat surface before maneuvering his partner into a chair.
"Wes, baby, what's wrong?" Travis knelt by his side, taking a hand in his own. "You look like hell, talk to me."
The blond lifted his head and smiled faintly. "Gee, thanks, Marks. I love you, too."
The half-joking admission caught in Travis' chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave Wes' hand a squeeze. "Sorry, bad timing, but you do look pretty rough. You want some water?"
Wes shook his head slowly. "No, I'd love some more Scotch, but I'm afraid I've probably had four too many already."
He'd noticed. "About that… what is going on? And, not that I mind, but why are you on my doorstep in the middle of the night?"
"Steps," he said, giggling. "You have door steps, Travis." He giggled again, pitching forward slightly. Bracing himself with a hand on his knee, he managed to meet Travis' eyes. "Alex knows. About…"
About us. Wes didn't need to finish that sentence for him to understand what he was getting at. Or what it meant for his partner either. "And I'm afraid to ask how she knows."
Wes gave a derisive snort of laughter. "She was suspicious and she was spying," he said.
Travis listened intently as Wes related the story of how Alex had spotted – and then followed – the two of them earlier that morning. At first, he figured it was merely a coincidence, but the more he listened, the angrier he got. He supposed he couldn't blame her, they were having an affair, but she still violated Wes' – and his own – privacy.
"Man, I'm so sorry," he said once Wes had finished. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Can I borrow your couch tonight? Just until I can find somewhere to stay?" His eyes pleaded with Travis, breaking his heart in two. Wes really had nowhere else to go, did he?
"Hell no, you can't borrow my couch," he replied, standing quickly.
"No? But I figured…"
Travis interrupted. "You didn't let me finish. You can't borrow the couch because you're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleep anywhere but in my bed."
That finally made Wes smile.
His body came to life under Travis' touch that much he'd discovered. Even now, when he was simply toying with the blond hairs on his arm, the simple brush of his partner's fingers against his skin made life seem much better than it really was.
"How much time did you spend in the bar," he was asking, "before you came here?"
Wes thought about it, unsure he wanted to admit he'd spent several wasted hours getting drunk. When he realized he could have been here, in the understanding arms of his partner, he'd mentally kicked himself. But he was here now, and he was content to live in the moment while he could.
"Too long," he said. "Several hours at least. I had to get away from her and all that she wanted from me and now – now it's over."
Travis pulled Wes against him, trapping him within the safety of his embrace. "It might be over between the two of you, but not between us. We're only beginning." Nuzzling into the space between the blond's chin and shoulder, he placed a soft kiss on his skin. "If you still want me anyway."
Wes' heart lodged firmly in his throat, his emotions clogging his ability to speak. That Travis would even want to stay together after all he'd put him through amazed him. "Of course I still want you, Travis. You're the only reason I've made it this far. I need you."
"I need you, too," he murmured against Wes' neck. "I need you at work, I need you at dinner, I need you right here, in my bed, every single night for the rest of my life. You game?"
Wes laughed, a hearty, rumbling chuckle that filled the room. "Oh Travis, I think you're looking a little too far into the future – I'm not even divorced yet – but we can work on that."
Travis lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow in question. "We can work on your divorce?"
"No, you idiot, we can work on us. But maybe just a little at a time, if that's okay." To say he was gun-shy about getting seriously involved with someone the same night he left his wife would be an understatement. He wasn't lying next to just someone, however, he was curled up against the one and only Travis Marks, and that made a world of difference.
"So," Wes said, twisting the golden band still on his left ring finger. "Does this mean I can stay here, with you, until I can figure things out? Find a place to live even?"
Travis snuggled against Wes' side, reassuring him that he was welcome for the long haul. "Baby, you don't ever have to leave if you don't want to. You mean that much to me."
The sentiment swelled Wes' heart with affection for his partner, even if they both knew living in such close quarters, even for a short period of time, would land one of them in the pokey before long. Besides, Wes was used to a bit… fancier… accommodations. With leg room and an actual closet or two. But he wouldn't tell Travis that. "How about we work on that, too, hmm?"
Smiling, Travis got the subtle hint. "Okay, we'll make a list of all your issues we need to 'work on' and go from there. But right now? Baby, we got something else we need to work on."
"Oh?" Wes locked his eyes onto Travis', waiting. "Like what?"
"Like just how loud you can be during sex. Yanno, these muffled little noises just ain't doing it for me."
Before he could protest otherwise, Travis had him sprawled on his back, begging for mercy. Or maybe that was more? He wasn't quite certain. But he was certain that, for once, he had made the right choice. Leaving Alex and letting her deal with the fallout was the right thing and although being here, right now, might not be the smartest thing, it too, was perfectly right.
He knew that Wes wouldn't stay any longer than he had to. Despite the hurt waking up without Wes beside him inspired, Travis knew that it would be the only way for their personal relationship to survive the long haul. Let him cling when he needed to, but at all other times, give the boy as much space as he required. It was how he functioned and Travis could deal with that.
When that dreadful day came – seventeen days later – Travis held it together as best he could. Breaking down in front of Wes would be a huge mistake, and he refused to make it. Instead of thinking about his leaving, he focused on their plans – dinner tomorrow, a movie over the weekend, maybe some lazy lovemaking somewhere in-between.
"Thank you," Wes said, cupping Travis' face in his hands. "I'm going to miss this, but we'll figure it out, right?"
Travis nodded, unable to agree fully.
"Good." He kissed his partner's lips, gentle and hopeful. "I'll see you in the morning."
Again, Travis nodded, unable to speak until he'd vanished from his sight. "I'll miss you, too, Wes."
The hardest thing he'd done all day was waking up to an empty pillow beside him. After two weeks of Wes' constant companionship, it left him lonely and a bit lost. He'd pushed through it, the quiet, the despair, the thought of coming back and dealing with it all over again later, and gotten out of the house on time for once.
Travis shut and locked his trailer door, contemplating stopping for a quick donut before heading in to work. He'd just decided on doing just that – one glazed, one chocolate cake, and a Boston Cream for the road – when he spotted a very familiar SUV parked next to his motorcycle. Grinning, he double-timed it all the way to the passenger side door.
"Hey, you came for me," he said, climbing in beside his partner, cheerful and a touch surprised since his place was not on Wes' route to work. "You must really like me."
"Don't flatter yourself," Wes teased. "And don't read anything into the fact that there is coffee in the cup holder for you." He watched Travis reach for the paper cup, sipping gingerly until he'd gauged the temperature. "Oh, and the lady at the coffee shop gave me these, too. Thought you might like them."
Travis took the white paper bag out of his partner's hand. Looking inside, his face broke into an infectious grin, one that could not be contained. Tugging a donut out of the bag, he caught Wes' gaze. "Now this is proof, you really do like me."
Wes backed out of the spot and pulled onto the street. "You're right, Marks. I really do like you."
"Good," he said around a mouthful of chocolate glazed donut, "because you're not getting rid of me. Ever."
Smiling contentedly, Wes drove on.