Fic: Forget About The Sunshine When It's Gone (Singer/Ian)
Title: Forget About The Sunshine When It’s Gone (Show Me Something True)
Pairings: Singer/Cash (unrequited), Singer/Ian
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Complete and utter fabrication.
Summary: Futurefic. Ian is getting a divorce, and Alex is there to pick up the pieces.
A/N: For mintyfiend, on her LJ birthday, because she is awesome and today needs celebrating because, among other reasons, if she hadn’t gotten a LJ my life would be very dull indeed. And I thought for once she’d like to read something as a whole, rather than in awfully unedited 500 words sections like normal. This was incredibly difficult to keep secret from her.
I hope you like it, dude. I’m glad I have you in my life. ♥♥♥ <><
Wonderfully quick and dirty beta by makesomelove who read over it despite cab boys taking their pants off, pointed out all my Britishisms, and yelled at me for saying ‘making love’. The deal was I had to write ‘make some love’ as a shout out to her, or ‘fuck’. I went with ‘fuck’. ♥ She also said I have to say that it’s okay, because it becomes a ‘spark of always’. Which will hopefully make sense at the end. Title belongs to The All-American Rejects.
When Cash gets married and has a baby, he calls her Alexandra. Alex tells Cash he’s a douche and asks him if he doesn’t have enough Alexes in his life already, but deep down he’s really touched. Because as much as he knows Cash loves Marshall and Johnson, he knows this is for him. He says yes to being her godfather, even though Cash doesn’t ask, just assumes because that’s the kind of friendship they have.
And he listens to Cash talk about how Allie is going to grow up and marry Bronx Wentz, even though Bronx is 10 years old when Allie is born and Alex points out that Bronx probably isn’t a cradle snatcher like his dad.
Pete says it doesn’t matter anyways, since Bronx is going to marry Patrick’s 5-year-old Nelson, and mutters something about fulfilling things that were meant to be, righting mistakes.
Patrick says there’s something wrong with them, to be pairing off kids so young without letting them grow up and make their own decisions and since when did they all become old and dictator-y to the new generation anyways? And thus an argument ensues.
But, whoever Allie grows up and marries (or doesn’t, because, as Hurley keeps reminding them all, marriage is an institution forced upon them by The Man, another means of tying them down to societies standards), Alex loves her to bits. He spends as much of his free time as possible over at Cash’s place. Which is great. Which is fantastic, and he’s always welcomed there. But if he’s honest with himself, sometimes it just highlights how much he doesn’t have in his life. It seems everyone he knows has grown up and now have partners and families.
Cash getting married had been almost- but not quite- too difficult to deal with, a change Alex hadn’t expected. But Cash with a baby only emphasised that everything Alex had thought he wanted out of life wasn’t going to be his. And it wasn’t like he was still in love with Cash, because to have been in love with your best friend for, like, 12 years and to not have mentioned it even once, not even when they asked you to be best man at their wedding and then had a crisis right before the ceremony asking if they were doing the right thing and then you talked them into getting married, well, that would be kind of weird and fucked up.
It’s not like Alex hangs out with Cash all that much, really. He has other friends too, except they’re all shacked up with someone and sprogging too and, really, there are only so many wedding and baby photos, tales of honeymoons and potty training and report cards, that he can handle before it gets a bit depressing. Even Johnson has kids (two boys who terrorise Alex whenever he visits and pull his hair and climb all over him. It reminds Alex of what it was like in the early days, before they got a bus). Marshall is married, although that didn’t change him as the helmet-ectomy haircut he’d finally gotten on his 25th birthday had. Sometimes when they’re on stage now, Alex looks over and has to do a double take when he wonders who it is behind the keyboards. He’s been so used to seeing that old haircut that sometimes he misses it, but then again, he finds he misses pretty much everything these days.
Ian’s married too, and Alex doesn’t like his wife, so he doesn’t visit as much as he should. So when Ian phones him up and asks him to come and stay for a couple of weeks, Alex struggles to find an excuse why he can’t go. But it’s Ian, so Alex says yes and packs his bags and gets on a plane.
Ian lives in New Hampshire now, because that’s where his wife is from, and Alex hates it there. He reckons Ian probably hates it there too, especially when, having picked Alex up at the airport, Ian swears every minute or so as he drives them back through the snow to his house.
When Alex steps through Ian’s front door, he notices something’s different. He’s not been there very often (twice, once when they just moved in, and again before the wedding, which had been boring and tedious and they’d had to wear uncomfortable tuxes which had looked hilarious on Johnson and Cash) so it takes him a moment to take it all in.
It’s like the place has been remodelled, even though he doesn’t remember Ian mentioning doing anything (which is the sort of talk Alex gets to hear a lot now from everyone- it’s all about wooden floors and drapes and insulating the attic and putting up tyre swings in the backyard- and sure, Alex has a house, has a mortgage, but talking about it too much makes him antsy- he’s not sure he’s made up his mind how he feels on this whole settling down thing everyone’s doing and are expecting of him too).
The house seems to be done in a minimalist look, which Alex very much does not approve of- he likes to get a sense of the person based on their home, their paintings and photos and ornaments, the shoes by the front door and magazines piled on the coffee table. All that Ian’s house screams now is ‘Ian’ which isn’t surprising considering Alex knows him so well, but after a moment of looking around he realises that’s all it says.
Alex frowns. “Where…?” he starts to say and trails off.
Ian rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs a little. “So, yeah, I’m kinda getting a divorce. She moved out.”
Alex stares at him, not knowing what to say or do. And then Ian’s face crumples and Alex has his arms around him. He pulls him over to collapse them both on the sofa in a tangle of limbs before the first sob reaches his ears.
~~~
Alex doesn't know what to do, so he does nothing. He lets Ian cry and makes soothing noises and tries not to say things like "I don't see why you're so upset, she's a fucking bitch" because he knows there'll probably be a time when that sort of talk will be appropriate. It's just not now.
Ian falls asleep, a heavy weight against him, and Alex is filled with questions- when did they decide on a divorce? What went wrong? Why did she leave him? But mostly he wonders how long it's been since Ian last slept properly. He notes the dark smudges under Ian's eyes and brushes Ian's curls off his forehead, running his thumb over the frown lines between Ian's brow. He doesn't remember those from before, but maybe it’s because he wasn’t looking for them.
In Alex's mind Ian is, and always will be, a 19 year old saviour, a bundle of energy who showed up in their lives when they needed him. It's hard, sometimes, to remember that Ian wasn't always there from the start, but when he thinks about it, there was always an Ian shaped hole waiting to be filled in their lives.
Ian sighs and Alex frowns. He hates Ian's soon-to-be-ex-wife even more than he did before. Logically he knows he should listen to Ian's story, if and when he's ready to tell it, before he assigns blame, but Ian's always been on something like a pedestal in Alex's eyes, since the first time they met him and he said he liked their music and then wailed on his guitar and Alex knew that everything was going to be very different suddenly, in a very awesome way.
Sometimes Alex thinks maybe it bothers Cash that Alex looks up to Ian the way he does. He wonders if Cash would be as bothered if he knew he was up on his own pedestal, and that it's just that Alex has had 12 years of practice hiding his feelings for Cash that stop him from knowing about it.
Alex thinks of Cash and how he'd said he'd phone him when he arrived. He likes that Cash worries about him. So he edges out from underneath Ian, lowering him gently onto the couch. He goes upstairs and into Ian's bedroom, inhaling the sour smell of a room shut up in the dark for too long. Alex thinks he should probably open the curtains, or change the sheets or something, but instead he pulls a blanket off Ian's bed, and then a pillow too, and goes back downstairs, carefully placing the pillow under Ian's head, and the blanket across his reclined body. Then he goes into the kitchen and calls Cash.
"How's Ian?" Cash asks, after they've exchanged pleasantries and Alex has pushed the rush of joy at hearing Cash's voice away.
Alex doesn't even hesitate. "Fine," he says. "You know Ian."
Cash chuckles. "Wicked Witch of the East around?" he asks, and Alex smiles, loves that they have these little things they share- in jokes and nicknames for people that they can never share with the world because they're just that little bit too mean. Alex wouldn't want people to think he's mean, but Cash never judges, eggs him on to say whatever he likes. It's a weird sort of trust, where Cash sometimes forgets that things Alex tells him aren't for a general audience to hear, but Alex knows he never does it on purpose.
He's not sure if that's why he doesn't tell Cash about Ian and the divorce. He thinks maybe it's something he shouldn't tell the others unless Ian says it's okay- unless Ian just expects him to tell, is putting that responsibility on him, and that makes it even more complicated and Alex really doesn't know what to do. And he wonders if maybe that's why he doesn't tell Cash, doesn't want to admit he doesn't know what to do or how to act or anything.
"No," Alex just says. "No she's not." He doesn't offer an explanation, and Cash doesn't ask for one. It's not really lying when he’d said Ian was fine, Alex tells himself. Because he's going to make sure Ian is fine, somehow. Once he figures out how to make him fine.
~~~
Alex is in the kitchen again at lunchtime the next day when Ian stumbles in. He'd stayed in one of the spare rooms, and had sat in the lounge for an hour until he realised it was probably creepy to stare at Ian while he slept, wondering what he was dreaming about, or if he was even dreaming at all.
"Oh," Ian says, when he sees Alex. He sounds disappointed, and Alex thinks that maybe he wasn't supposed to stay, that he should have gone, but then Ian gives him a sad, apologetic smile.
"I thought maybe it had all been a bad dream," he explains. "But if you're here then I guess I didn't imagine it all." He slumps into a chair at the table, opposite Alex, and Alex gets up, pours him coffee, makes him a grilled cheese sandwich because that's pretty much all Ian has in the house. He should have gone out and gotten groceries while Ian was asleep, he knows. That's what he should have done, but he didn't want Ian to wake up alone again. He wonders how many days Ian's been waking up in an empty house. But he doesn't ask. They don't talk while Alex cooks, don't talk while Ian eats his sandwich. He licks his fingers when he's done and smiles at Alex and Alex smiles back.
Ian tilts his head to the side, as if waiting for questions that never come. Alex knows what it's like to not want to talk about things, to dread being asked and having to give an honest answer, lay himself open for ridicule and criticism and pity, or to lie.
"You need more food," Alex says.
Ian shrugs. "We can always order takeout." He gets up and walks out of the kitchen, leaving his dirty plate behind.
Alex tips the crumbs into the trash and washes it. His hands are still slightly damp and soapy when he goes in search of Ian. He's not downstairs, so he climbs the stairs slowly, and finds Ian sitting on the bed Alex slept in. The room is bright- curtains open letting in the sunlight that reflects off the layer of snow covering the outside world. The bed is made, only because Alex was killing time this morning. From his position in the doorway, he can see how it contrasts sharply with Ian's bedroom down the end of the hallway. It's dark in there and the only thing distinguishable in the shadows is the mess of blankets and duvet and pillows on the bed.
Ian looks up at Alex. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, looking down to trace the pattern on the comforter.
"Do you want to talk?" Alex asks. He's not sure if it's the right question, or if it's too soon to ask, but he says it anyway.
"Do you want to listen?" Ian shoots back, not looking up and Alex frowns and folds his arms. Ian sounds angry. Angry at Alex and that's not fair.
Alex goes and sits next to him. "We have a couple of options," he says. He figures if he's not sure which course of action to take, laying it all out on the table and letting Ian choose is the next best thing. "You can tell me what happened and maybe it'll help. You can not tell me what happened and I'll hang out for a few days and then go home, if that's what you want and then you can call me up and tell me what happened over the phone when I'm too far away to be much help. Or I can cheerfully pretend nothing's wrong and shove you into the shower and do your laundry for you and be so annoying that you snap and punch me and then tell me what happened."
Ian doesn't say anything.
"Because the way I see it," Alex continues, "you wouldn't have asked me to come visit if you didn't want to talk about it."
Ian grunts, whether in acknowledgement or annoyance, Alex doesn't know, and lets himself flop back until he's lying on the bed, feet still on the floor. Alex tucks his legs under himself and waits.
"She doesn't love me anymore," Ian starts, and Alex doesn't know what to say so he reaches out and takes the hand closest to him, which is tapping arhythmically against the comforter.
Ian doesn't try to pull his hand away. He just keeps talking.
Alex listens.
~~~
Later, when it's gone dark outside, Alex asks Ian if he wants to sleep in here with him but Ian shakes his head and yawns and goes into his bedroom. He shuts the door and Alex leaves him alone. It's only 5 o'clock but Alex is hungry so he goes and looks in the fridge again and then does what Ian suggested and orders in. He gets a pizza so that there'll be leftovers for breakfast and curls up in front of the TV to watch reruns.
He wakes up early the next morning, body stiff from sleeping in an armchair, when his phone rings. It's across the other side of the room, and Alex wouldn't move except it's Cash's ringtone and he can never not answer if Cash calls.
"'Lo?" he asks.
"Allie's been up fussing all night," Cash greets him. "And now I can't sleep, so I thought I'd see how my best buddy was doing."
"Sleeping," Alex says, and Cash sounds apologetic when he says "Lazy ass."
"How's it going? You guys writing up there?"
Alex wonders if maybe that'd help, getting some lyrics, a tune, something down on paper. That's how he gets those feelings in his gut to stop twisting as painfully. It's easier than he'd ever thought, back in high school listening to music and trying to interpret the lyrics, to hide the true meaning of a song, the feelings, behind words that have nothing to do with the subject of the song. If it wasn't so easy, Cash would probably have figured things out by now.
"Not yet," Alex says and sighs.
"What's wrong?" Cash sounds concerned, the playful tone gone from his voice.
"Nothing," Alex says, but when Cash makes a disbelieving noise he can't help himself. "Ian's getting a divorce."
Cash sighs. "Oh," he says.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment.
"She left him," Alex says, both to fill the silence, and because he has to tell Cash. He tells Cash (almost) everything. "She didn't...he didn't...neither of them-" he sighs. "She just said it was over and that she wanted a divorce and left." He knows he sounds frustrated, and he doesn't know if it's his own frustration or if he's channelling it from Ian.
"Fuck," Cash mutters. "Is Ian okay?"
"No. No he's not," Alex wonders if he sounds as helpless as he feels.
"Do you need me to come up there?" Cash asks. It's another reason on the long list of things Alex loves about Cash- that he'll drop everything to be there for a friend. He knows he's already mentally thinking about flights and whether he can leave Allie for that long.
"No," Alex says firmly. He can handle this- Ian called him, after all.
He tells Cash this.
There's a pause. "Maybe he just called you because he knew you didn't have any responsibilities." Cash says exactly what Alex has been pondering in the back of his mind.
"I mean," Cash continues, "you're the only one of us who could jump on the next plane without having to worry about things."
"Yeah," Alex says, but what he actually means is "Fuck you." He doesn't say that though, not until Cash says, "Besides, you're not married or anything- how can you know what he's going through?"
Alex tells him to fuck off with feeling and hangs up on him. He ignores his phone when it rings again.
When Ian comes downstairs they watch all of Star Wars back to back. Alex doesn't really like Star Wars, but he watches anyway and keeps Ian company. They don't talk about the conversation yesterday and Alex doesn't tell Ian that Cash knows.
Ian's phone doesn't ring, and Alex is grateful that they're leaving him to deal with it, even if maybe he should have said yes to Cash's offer.
~~~
"We should go out tonight," Alex says two days later.
Ian looks at him in surprise, like this is something out of the blue, but Alex has been locked up in this house (her house, he thinks, even though only half of it is- he's not sure if Ian's going to have to sell it, if maybe he can convince Ian to move back to Vegas) for too long and he's getting cabin fever.
"Go out where?" Ian asks, and Alex shrugs, too casually.
"I don't know. A club maybe? Or a bar. Somewhere social."
Ian narrows his eyes. "We don't go to clubs," he points out, and it's true, they really don't. "And I don't want a drink."
Alex doesn't say anything, worries at his thumbnail for a couple of moments, aware that Ian is still watching him.
"Fine," he admits. "Cash says you need a rebound fuck."
Ian doesn't look surprised that Cash knows. Alex wonders if he should tell him that Cash told Marshall and Johnson, that Cash has been phoning every day to make sure Ian's okay, offering advice carefully, so as to not piss Alex off again.
"Really," Ian says flatly.
Alex nods. "He says that it will let you convince yourself that it's over, because he doesn't think you're doing that and it's unhealthy to pretend she might come back," he parrots, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Cash that morning, when Ian had finally agreed to have a shower. It was progress, but not enough for Cash, who'd insisted that this was the best course of action.
"She-" Ian starts to say but Alex shakes his head and interrupts.
"Isn't coming back," Alex says firmly. "And you need to move on. And once you have sex with someone else, it'll be a new chapter of your life and that one will be over and you can start moving forward."
Ian's lips quirk into an almost smile. "Cash is a douche," he says, and Alex agrees wholeheartedly.
"But I think he's right," Alex says. "Go out there, get drunk, find someone you can spend a night with and just...you know. Forget for a short while."
Ian rolls his eyes. "That's not my style," he says. "You know that."
And he’s right- Ian had never been like that, not even back in the crazy days when it had all gotten too much for them and they’d done stupid things, collected regrets like they were supposed to. But Ian had been disinterested in empty liaisons like that. Alex hadn’t understood at the time, but now he thinks Ian always was the wisest out of all of them.
“Maybe it’s time to change your style?” Alex asks. There are unspoken words in the air that he hadn’t meant, hadn’t intended to say, never would say. But he’s sure that Ian hears “maybe she wouldn’t have left you if you’d changed,” judging by the stricken look on Ian’s face.
“I didn’t mean-” Alex reaches out a hand, but Ian shrugs.
“I know,” he says. “I don’t want that though. I don’t want to fuck a stranger, even if it’ll magically make me forget everything.”
“It doesn’t have to be a stranger,” Alex points out. Ian gives him a strange look, but Alex carries on anyway. “I mean, do you have any friends here who you could make a move on?” He pauses and thinks about the girls he knows, if any of them would be Ian’s type, if they’d do them both a favour like that. He’s attempting to make a list when Ian clears his throat.
“A friend?” Ian repeats and shrugs when Alex nods.
“Just a girl you can spend a night with,” Alex explains. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, doesn’t have to ruin your friendship, doesn’t have to be anything more than just sex.”
Ian looks confused again. “Maybe,” he says, and yawns. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he adds and leaves the room, even though it’s only mid-afternoon.
Alex mentally curses Cash for the suggestion, blaming it for the confusion on Ian’s face. He hopes he hasn’t said the wrong thing, that he’s not damaged Ian with the suggestion instead of mending him a little.
Alex fills out the rest of the day the same way he’s been for the rest of the week, watching TV and listening to music and staring at the blank pages of his notebook, because he’s pretty sure any words that get written down in it should be his own, not an imitation of what Ian may or may not be feeling.
~~~
Alex wakes up and he's not sure why. It's still dark and the room is silent. It takes him a moment to note the change in tension on the mattress, to realise someone- Ian, obviously- is sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong?" Alex asks, sitting up and squinting in the darkness. He knows he shouldn't be this on edge, but he's been waiting for something to happen. He just doesn't know what that something is. But he figures Ian has to snap and do something- cry again, or punch a wall or maybe Alex's face, or destroy something that reminds him of her. Especially if he's not going to heed Cash's advice.
"I've been thinking," Ian says. He turns to face Alex, and Alex can see the whites of his eyes, and a flash of his teeth in the darkness. Ian shifts until he's kneeling on the bed beside Alex.
"About what?" Alex asks, when Ian doesn't carry on. He sees Ian go very still, and then he reaches up and puts his hand in Alex's hair.
Alex isn't sure what he's doing, which is maybe naïve of him, but he can't help letting out a squeak of surprise when Ian leans in and kisses him.
It makes Ian pull back immediately, and Alex's eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough that he can see the panic on Ian's features, can see that he's sad and upset and confused and worried all at once. Ian starts to move away, slowly, and Alex takes advantage of his mouth opening- to issue an apology probably, an excuse maybe- and kisses him back.
This time Ian's the one making the surprised noise, but it sounds happy. Ian's mouth is warm and Alex thinks that this probably isn't the way to make Ian fine again, but it seems to be making Ian happy right now, and that's something at least. It's Cash's advice they're following, and Alex wonders if Cash knew this would be the result, if he'd even care. And then Ian puts his hands back in Alex's hair and presses him back down onto the bed, and Alex forgets about Cash and just thinks about Ian.
Alex has honestly never thought of Ian in this way, apart from that brief moment, early on when he'd been coming to terms with his own sexuality and was suddenly hyper aware of how he got to spend his days with four hot guys, any of whom he'd be lucky to get to do this with. If he had thought of it, though, he wouldn't have thought it'd be like this. Ian is tender and gentle and attentive, clever fingers dusting over Alex's skin as they undress.
It's fumbly enough at first, and they giggle through rolling the condom onto Ian, slicking Alex up. Alex watches Ian's face a little too closely, making sure this is really what he wants, and the smile at the corner of Ian's mouth lets him know it is, that it's the right thing, that it's what Ian needs. Right now.
It's not until Ian slides inside him and stops and says "Hi," in a surprised voice that makes Alex grin wider than he has any right to, that he thinks maybe he's not just doing this for Ian.
~~~
The morning light is bright against Alex's eyelids and he rolls over to bury his face away from it, but meets flesh and bone instead of soft pillowy fabric.
Alex goes very still and lifts his head, smiling hesitantly up at Ian.
"Morning," Ian says warily, as if afraid Alex is going to freak out. It makes Alex relax, because he'd been sure Ian would be the one panicking.
"Hi," Alex says and smiles. He stretches and yawns, and catches Ian watching the flex of the muscles in his chest.
Ian meets Alex's eyes and blushes. He looks away. "I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't be," Alex says firmly, and Ian looks back at him.
"This isn't going to be awkward, right?" he asks, and Alex shrugs.
"Maybe? I don't know. It shouldn't."
Ian nods slowly.
"It maybe surprised me?" Alex adds after a moment. "I mean, I never knew-"
"It made sense," Ian interrupts. "Last night. I thought about Cash's advice and how I don't do strangers. And then. You were here and you're my friend and I think it really helped. Don't tell Cash he was right though," he adds.
Ian laughs, but carries on before Alex can echo it with a laugh of his own. "I just don't want you to be confused. I mean. This was...thank you. But I don't want you to think it meant something big, too much. I'm not asking anything of you, so don't worry. There's no feelings to reciprocate so it's okay that you don't."
It takes Alex a moment of frowning to get what Ian is saying, but when he figures it out he smiles. He hesitates. "I'm in love with Cash," he confesses. He means it to be comforting, to let Ian know that he doesn't think last night was some big declaration of love, but Ian looks shell shocked.
Alex laughs nervously, and Ian closes his eyes, shakes his head, and seems to collect himself.
"Wow," he says. "I didn't see that coming. Are you. I mean. Did you guys..."
Alex shakes his head vigorously, curls flying into his face. He brushes them aside.
"He doesn't know," Alex says. "It's not...I know it's hopeless, okay? But. If that helps, you knowing, then it's worth me telling you. I don't expect anything from you either."
Ian licks his lips and nods.
"You know," he says. "I'm going to have a shower. And then I think I'm going to go for a walk."
This is progress; Ian hasn't left the house since he met Alex at the airport. Neither of them have, and Alex itches for the feel of fresh, icy air in his lungs and the feel of pavement beneath his feet.
"Want company?" Alex asks. "On the walk!" he clarifies hastily, feeling his cheeks flush hot.
He hadn't meant to imply joining Ian in the shower, isn't sure if what they did last night was a one time thing or not. He's not even sure what he wants it to be- it's not like it's been a long time since Alex last had sex (he might be in love with Cash, but he's not a monk, has a healthy sex life with people who aren't that important to him outside of the bedroom) but last night had been nice, comfortable, comforting. Familiar even, which maybe should have been weird.
Ian smiles, wide, and gets out of bed. Alex averts his eyes as Ian pulls his boxers back on. When he chances a look over, Ian is standing in the doorway, watching him.
"I think I'll be okay on my own," Ian says, and leaves.
Alex tries not to read too much into Ian's words. He doesn't have a magic ass that instantly healed Ian of all his pain when they fucked, but the fact he's venturing outside is definitely a step forward.
When Ian goes for his walk, hair still damp despite Alex warning him he'll catch cold, Alex phones Cash.
"Did Ian take my advice?" Cash asks, as if there's no chance Alex wouldn't have passed the advice on to Ian.
Alex hesitates for a split second. "Yeah," he says as lightly as he can manage.
"And?" Cash prompts. For a horrible panicky moment Alex thinks maybe Cash knows what happened last night. He's not sure why he cares- Cash certainly knows Alex is hardly a virgin who can’t drive and sits at home darning socks or whatever it is spinsters are supposed to do- but sleeping with Ian seems more real than any of that, maybe just because it's closer to home, it's with one of their own.
"Alex?" Cash says. "You still there?"
"Yeah, sorry," Alex says.
"Well?" Cash asks again. "Did it work?"
Alex can't help but smile, just a little. "Yeah," he says. "I think maybe it did. He seemed better this morning. He's gone for a walk. And we talked for a bit."
Cash makes a happy noise down the phone. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," he says. "We're all worried about him."
Alex doesn't reply, just nods even though Cash can't see him.
"I'm glad you're there with him," Cash adds. "Look, I've got to go. Tell him I said hi and that he should tell me all about the piece of ass he got last night sometime."
Alex chokes on his own spit, and Cash seems to think he's laughing and chuckles back.
"I guess he told you all about it then?" Cash asks, and Alex blurts out some non-reply and an excuse why he has to hang up.
He paces about for awhile afterwards, thinks about how none of them probably want Cash to hear about Ian's rebound fuck, and about Cash telling him to keep doing whatever he's doing. He's not sure if that's even an option.
Ian comes back and they don’t really talk, just sit and work their way through the TV channels. When Ian yawns, Alex stands up and says he’s going to bed. They both look at each other, and then Alex’s fingers twitch in Ian’s direction, almost offering a welcoming hand but not quite, not if it’s inappropriate. Not if it’s not what Ian wants.
Ian stands up though, and brushes his fingers against Alex’s and they go up to Alex’s room and shut the door behind them.
~~~
When the ten days Alex had intended to spend in New Hampshire are up, he pays the fee to change his flights home to a later date and calls Cash to let him know he’s going to be staying for awhile longer.
“I’m not sure,” he says, when Cash asks how long.
“Ian’s not doing so good then?” Cash sounds worried, but he shouldn’t.
“Ian is…” Alex trails off and things about the last week, how they’d fallen into a habit of sleeping together in Alex’s room, having sex when they felt like it, hanging out like normal the rest of the time. It had been easy, comfortable, natural, and Ian was smiling more, the frown lines not seeming as pronounced, although maybe Alex wasn’t looking for them anymore, was looking for something else.
“He’s good,” Alex finishes, because it’s true, or seems to be. “He’s more relaxed. And he seems happier, more like himself. We’ve been leaving the house, going shopping.” - because they ran out of condoms and lube, although he doesn’t tell Cash this.
“You sound good too,” Cash says, sounding happy, relieved. Alex hadn’t really thought about it much, how he’s been feeling. He’s just glad Ian seems to be better. Not quite okay, not quite fine, but better, which means he’s doing his job, at least.
“I guess.”
“Really,” Cash insists. “Ian’s obviously good for you.”
Alex knows what Cash means- that being in his company, being there for him, getting to hang with him is good for Alex.
But when he thinks about it, maybe something else they’ve been doing, been being is good for him too.
Alex didn’t know what to do before, how to fix Ian. He’s not sure this is the way. He’s not sure this is going to be good for Ian.
He thinks on the conversation all afternoon, all evening, and only belatedly realises that Cash telling him he sounded good didn’t give him that hot, delighted feeling low in his stomach, in his heart, in his lips, that it should have done.
Alex thinks he should probably stop this thing, whatever it is.
~~~
It’s a week later and Alex hasn’t stopped this thing they’re doing because he’s not sure he’s allowed to, not sure it’s the right thing to do, not sure it won’t break Ian all over again if he does stop. And maybe he doesn’t want to, if he’s perfectly honest with himself.
So the days pass and they keep sleeping together, keep up the little touches that have become more and more frequent, although they keep all the sex to Alex’s room. Alex figures that it’s maybe the only place Ian hadn’t had sex with his wife, that it’s the only place Ian feels comfortable doing this. And that’s okay, even if Alex can’t help but frown at the door of Ian’s bedroom, where he still hasn’t opened the curtains or changed the sheet. Not that that matters, as he’s not sleeping in there anymore- he falls asleep beside Alex, and wakes up beside him the next morning and seems perfectly happy to be doing so.
It’s a Wednesday when Alex realises he’s screwed up, that he came here to fix Ian and he’s probably going to end up undoing all the fragile mending he’s been so carefully attempting.
They’ve braved the outside world again, for food this time, and Alex is cooking because they’ve been through all the take out menus Ian has twice already. He’s standing at the stove, sautéing something just because he can, when Ian comes up behind him, hooks his chin over Alex’s shoulder and watches.
His hands are on Alex’s waist, casual, like they would have stood, maybe, before all this. But the kiss Ian presses beneath Alex’s ear, moving his hand to sweep the curls away first, that’s something they never would have done. It means something, and Alex shivers when Ian wanders off. He misses the feel of Ian pressed against his back, misses the press of lips to his neck, misses the smell of Ian wrapping around him.
He knows this feeling, knows it better than he wants to. It’s how he’d felt for the first few years of his friendship with Cash, the longing, the need, the honeymoon period of being in love.
Alex thinks of Cash, thinks about loving him, and it’s still there, maybe always will be, because it’s Cash, and how can he not love him? But it’s not the same. It’s different. Less. Easier.
He knows he should feel relieved, happy even that maybe he’s finally moving on with his life. But to move on onto another band mate, another friend, probably isn’t the healthiest thing to do.
Alex resolves to tell Ian he can’t do this anymore. He goes to bed early, claiming to be tired, but when Ian climbs in beside him five minutes later and presses chilly hands to Alex’s bed-warmed flesh, he shivers and rolls over and kisses Ian first. Alex knows he’s greedy, that he’s wrong, that this is dangerous, but he has Ian here, now, and he wants to hold onto it for a little longer. He’s just not sure how long.
His question is answered that morning when he wakes up and Ian isn’t in bed beside him. Alex goes downstairs in his pyjamas and finds Ian making breakfast. He’s showered, wet hair hanging down his neck as he flips a pancake. And he’s humming.
“Morning,” he says brightly when he spots Alex and flips the pancake onto a plate and hands it to him.
Alex doesn’t know what to say, so he eats his pancake. Ian continues to hum as he cooks, and when he’s done he adds to Alex’s half eaten stack then sets a plate down for himself.
“I was thinking we could try writing some songs today,” Ian remarks as he pours syrup onto his plate, zigzagging it across the pancakes. “I mean, we could just jam, mess around a bit, but maybe we could get some stuff down on paper too?”
Alex tries to swallow his mouthful of food and fails, has to wash it down with a gulp of orange juice.
“Okay,” he says. He attempts to sound bright and happy but it doesn’t come. Ian frowns at him a little but they go into the music room and throw ideas about and it’s fun, it’s natural, it’s exactly like it’s always been. When Alex looks at Ian he can’t even see the cracks where he’s been glued back together- he seems like the same old Ian he’s always known, goofy and happy and focused and playful and talented.
When they decide to call it a day even though it’s just past lunch, when Alex voice cracks a little when he hits the high notes, when Ian’s fingers start to cramp, Ian leans in to kiss Alex.
Alex turns his face away, and there’s a horrible, quiet moment.
“Alex?” Ian says, unsure, sad, resigned, all at the same time.
“I think we should stop doing this,” Alex says. “I’m sorry. I should never…you don’t need this, okay?
“I do though,” Ian insists.
Alex sighs and looks at him. Ian’s curled in on himself, looking tiny and alone, and Alex hates himself for a moment, but he knows this is important, knows it’s unfair to Ian to carry on.
“You don’t,” he says. “You really don’t. God, Ian, look at yourself. You’re going to be okay. And maybe what we were doing helped, but you don’t need this, don’t need me to do this.”
“Alex, really, I do-”
“I’m falling in love with you!” Alex shouts. The words seem to hang in the air for a moment, echoing uncomfortably in his ears, and Ian looks as shell shocked as he had when Alex had confessed his love for Cash.
“I’m sorry,” Alex says, small and miserable. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Cash, then you…you should probably phone Johnson and Marshall, warn them they’re next. But it’s not fair on you, sleeping with me to forget her, when I’m sleeping with you because it drives me crazy when I’m not touching you, when I’m not kissing you, when I don’t have you inside me. It’s not right- it’s weird and creepy and worse than what I’ve done to Cash, secretly loving him for all those years.”
Alex gets up and goes into his room. He shuts the door firmly and starts to pack. He doesn’t think of Ian’s face when he’d said he loved him, the surprise, the confusion. Instead he focuses on folding his shirts just so. He’s so intent on it he doesn’t hear the door open.
“Come with me,” Ian says, and Alex jumps. He turns around and stares at Ian, who stands in the doorway looking decisive, resolute.
“Come on,” Ian says, and holds out a hand. Alex doesn’t take it, but he follows when Ian leads. They walk down the hallway to Ian’s room.
“I need your help,” Ian explains, and walks over to the windows. He throws the curtains open, and light floods into the room. It’s too bright and Alex blinks into it while Ian goes to the bed and starts to strip it, shoving the dirty sheets into a hamper. He pulls out some new, clean ones, crisp and fresh and folded, and shakes it out over the bed, gesturing for Alex to help.
Together they make Ian’s bed, not talking, not looking at each other, just carefully tucking in corners and stuffing pillows into pillowcases. Then they stand back to admire their handiwork.
The room looks different with the bed made, with the light, and Ian is smiling as he looks around.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Alex says, since there seems to be nothing else to say. He’d achieved his task somehow, achieved what he’d mentally assigned to be a sign that Ian was going to be alright.
“Alex,” Ian calls him back, and Alex hesitates despite himself.
“What you said before,” Ian continues when Alex turns around. “About not needing whatever it is that’s been going on between us. Not needing you. You’re wrong. I do need it, but not because it’s some lifeline I’m clinging to.”
“Then what-” Alex tries to ask, but Ian rushes on.
“My marriage never felt right,” he says. “I loved her, loved her so much, with all my heart and soul, but it never felt…right. There’s no other word for it. I was happy, or I thought I was, but there was something off, something missing. This…whatever it is. This feels right.”
Alex inhales sharply. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demands.
“You said you were in love with Cash,” Ian points out. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, to make you feel like you had to keep doing this, had to stay. So, yeah, I do need this, do need you to keep doing this, but only if you want to.”
Alex licks his lips nervously. “Are you sure?”
Ian nods. “If you are,” he says earnestly and then sighs. “I spent three years of my life in a relationship where we shared lives and a bed, just like we’ve been doing, but it felt like it was because we should, not because we wanted to, because it felt natural to. I don’t want that again.”
Alex hesitates. It’s not a returning declaration of anything, but it’s something, a spark of maybe. The beginnings of something more.
He takes a step forward, then another, and Ian meets him halfway. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Ian pulls Alex down onto the bed, and Alex goes willingly.
They fuck on top of the covers on Ian’s bed, in Ian’s room, with the curtains wide open and the light streaming in, casting shadows on their bare skin as they move together.
~~~
“How’s Ian doing?” Cash asks. It’s a daily routine now- Cash calling in the morning, checking on them, and Alex reporting on their progress, how Ian is laughing again or smiling at the neighbours or showering on a regular basis.
“Ian’s doing fine!” Ian calls from across the room, even though he can’t possibly hear their conversation.
“Ian’s there?” Cash sounds surprised. Alex had taken a lot of effort to not let Ian overhear the calls.
“Yeah,” Alex says, smiling. “He’s here. He’s fine.”
“Really?” Cash sounds hopeful and relieved.
“I’m fine too,” Alex adds, before Cash can ask. He knows Cash hears something in his tone by the “Oh?” he gets in reply.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m doing really find. Me and Ian. We. We’re both doing fine.”
Cash doesn’t ask, but there’s a smile in his voice that lets Alex know he maybe understands what Alex isn’t saying. “Any chance of you bringing our boy home soon?”
Alex glances over at Ian, who catches him looking and smiles back. His face is open, shoulders relaxed. He looks like someone who could be convinced to come back to Vegas if Alex only asked.
“Yeah,” Alex tells Cash. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”
Pairings: Singer/Cash (unrequited), Singer/Ian
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Complete and utter fabrication.
Summary: Futurefic. Ian is getting a divorce, and Alex is there to pick up the pieces.
A/N: For mintyfiend, on her LJ birthday, because she is awesome and today needs celebrating because, among other reasons, if she hadn’t gotten a LJ my life would be very dull indeed. And I thought for once she’d like to read something as a whole, rather than in awfully unedited 500 words sections like normal. This was incredibly difficult to keep secret from her.
I hope you like it, dude. I’m glad I have you in my life. ♥♥♥ <><
Wonderfully quick and dirty beta by makesomelove who read over it despite cab boys taking their pants off, pointed out all my Britishisms, and yelled at me for saying ‘making love’. The deal was I had to write ‘make some love’ as a shout out to her, or ‘fuck’. I went with ‘fuck’. ♥ She also said I have to say that it’s okay, because it becomes a ‘spark of always’. Which will hopefully make sense at the end. Title belongs to The All-American Rejects.
When Cash gets married and has a baby, he calls her Alexandra. Alex tells Cash he’s a douche and asks him if he doesn’t have enough Alexes in his life already, but deep down he’s really touched. Because as much as he knows Cash loves Marshall and Johnson, he knows this is for him. He says yes to being her godfather, even though Cash doesn’t ask, just assumes because that’s the kind of friendship they have.
And he listens to Cash talk about how Allie is going to grow up and marry Bronx Wentz, even though Bronx is 10 years old when Allie is born and Alex points out that Bronx probably isn’t a cradle snatcher like his dad.
Pete says it doesn’t matter anyways, since Bronx is going to marry Patrick’s 5-year-old Nelson, and mutters something about fulfilling things that were meant to be, righting mistakes.
Patrick says there’s something wrong with them, to be pairing off kids so young without letting them grow up and make their own decisions and since when did they all become old and dictator-y to the new generation anyways? And thus an argument ensues.
But, whoever Allie grows up and marries (or doesn’t, because, as Hurley keeps reminding them all, marriage is an institution forced upon them by The Man, another means of tying them down to societies standards), Alex loves her to bits. He spends as much of his free time as possible over at Cash’s place. Which is great. Which is fantastic, and he’s always welcomed there. But if he’s honest with himself, sometimes it just highlights how much he doesn’t have in his life. It seems everyone he knows has grown up and now have partners and families.
Cash getting married had been almost- but not quite- too difficult to deal with, a change Alex hadn’t expected. But Cash with a baby only emphasised that everything Alex had thought he wanted out of life wasn’t going to be his. And it wasn’t like he was still in love with Cash, because to have been in love with your best friend for, like, 12 years and to not have mentioned it even once, not even when they asked you to be best man at their wedding and then had a crisis right before the ceremony asking if they were doing the right thing and then you talked them into getting married, well, that would be kind of weird and fucked up.
It’s not like Alex hangs out with Cash all that much, really. He has other friends too, except they’re all shacked up with someone and sprogging too and, really, there are only so many wedding and baby photos, tales of honeymoons and potty training and report cards, that he can handle before it gets a bit depressing. Even Johnson has kids (two boys who terrorise Alex whenever he visits and pull his hair and climb all over him. It reminds Alex of what it was like in the early days, before they got a bus). Marshall is married, although that didn’t change him as the helmet-ectomy haircut he’d finally gotten on his 25th birthday had. Sometimes when they’re on stage now, Alex looks over and has to do a double take when he wonders who it is behind the keyboards. He’s been so used to seeing that old haircut that sometimes he misses it, but then again, he finds he misses pretty much everything these days.
Ian’s married too, and Alex doesn’t like his wife, so he doesn’t visit as much as he should. So when Ian phones him up and asks him to come and stay for a couple of weeks, Alex struggles to find an excuse why he can’t go. But it’s Ian, so Alex says yes and packs his bags and gets on a plane.
Ian lives in New Hampshire now, because that’s where his wife is from, and Alex hates it there. He reckons Ian probably hates it there too, especially when, having picked Alex up at the airport, Ian swears every minute or so as he drives them back through the snow to his house.
When Alex steps through Ian’s front door, he notices something’s different. He’s not been there very often (twice, once when they just moved in, and again before the wedding, which had been boring and tedious and they’d had to wear uncomfortable tuxes which had looked hilarious on Johnson and Cash) so it takes him a moment to take it all in.
It’s like the place has been remodelled, even though he doesn’t remember Ian mentioning doing anything (which is the sort of talk Alex gets to hear a lot now from everyone- it’s all about wooden floors and drapes and insulating the attic and putting up tyre swings in the backyard- and sure, Alex has a house, has a mortgage, but talking about it too much makes him antsy- he’s not sure he’s made up his mind how he feels on this whole settling down thing everyone’s doing and are expecting of him too).
The house seems to be done in a minimalist look, which Alex very much does not approve of- he likes to get a sense of the person based on their home, their paintings and photos and ornaments, the shoes by the front door and magazines piled on the coffee table. All that Ian’s house screams now is ‘Ian’ which isn’t surprising considering Alex knows him so well, but after a moment of looking around he realises that’s all it says.
Alex frowns. “Where…?” he starts to say and trails off.
Ian rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs a little. “So, yeah, I’m kinda getting a divorce. She moved out.”
Alex stares at him, not knowing what to say or do. And then Ian’s face crumples and Alex has his arms around him. He pulls him over to collapse them both on the sofa in a tangle of limbs before the first sob reaches his ears.
~~~
Alex doesn't know what to do, so he does nothing. He lets Ian cry and makes soothing noises and tries not to say things like "I don't see why you're so upset, she's a fucking bitch" because he knows there'll probably be a time when that sort of talk will be appropriate. It's just not now.
Ian falls asleep, a heavy weight against him, and Alex is filled with questions- when did they decide on a divorce? What went wrong? Why did she leave him? But mostly he wonders how long it's been since Ian last slept properly. He notes the dark smudges under Ian's eyes and brushes Ian's curls off his forehead, running his thumb over the frown lines between Ian's brow. He doesn't remember those from before, but maybe it’s because he wasn’t looking for them.
In Alex's mind Ian is, and always will be, a 19 year old saviour, a bundle of energy who showed up in their lives when they needed him. It's hard, sometimes, to remember that Ian wasn't always there from the start, but when he thinks about it, there was always an Ian shaped hole waiting to be filled in their lives.
Ian sighs and Alex frowns. He hates Ian's soon-to-be-ex-wife even more than he did before. Logically he knows he should listen to Ian's story, if and when he's ready to tell it, before he assigns blame, but Ian's always been on something like a pedestal in Alex's eyes, since the first time they met him and he said he liked their music and then wailed on his guitar and Alex knew that everything was going to be very different suddenly, in a very awesome way.
Sometimes Alex thinks maybe it bothers Cash that Alex looks up to Ian the way he does. He wonders if Cash would be as bothered if he knew he was up on his own pedestal, and that it's just that Alex has had 12 years of practice hiding his feelings for Cash that stop him from knowing about it.
Alex thinks of Cash and how he'd said he'd phone him when he arrived. He likes that Cash worries about him. So he edges out from underneath Ian, lowering him gently onto the couch. He goes upstairs and into Ian's bedroom, inhaling the sour smell of a room shut up in the dark for too long. Alex thinks he should probably open the curtains, or change the sheets or something, but instead he pulls a blanket off Ian's bed, and then a pillow too, and goes back downstairs, carefully placing the pillow under Ian's head, and the blanket across his reclined body. Then he goes into the kitchen and calls Cash.
"How's Ian?" Cash asks, after they've exchanged pleasantries and Alex has pushed the rush of joy at hearing Cash's voice away.
Alex doesn't even hesitate. "Fine," he says. "You know Ian."
Cash chuckles. "Wicked Witch of the East around?" he asks, and Alex smiles, loves that they have these little things they share- in jokes and nicknames for people that they can never share with the world because they're just that little bit too mean. Alex wouldn't want people to think he's mean, but Cash never judges, eggs him on to say whatever he likes. It's a weird sort of trust, where Cash sometimes forgets that things Alex tells him aren't for a general audience to hear, but Alex knows he never does it on purpose.
He's not sure if that's why he doesn't tell Cash about Ian and the divorce. He thinks maybe it's something he shouldn't tell the others unless Ian says it's okay- unless Ian just expects him to tell, is putting that responsibility on him, and that makes it even more complicated and Alex really doesn't know what to do. And he wonders if maybe that's why he doesn't tell Cash, doesn't want to admit he doesn't know what to do or how to act or anything.
"No," Alex just says. "No she's not." He doesn't offer an explanation, and Cash doesn't ask for one. It's not really lying when he’d said Ian was fine, Alex tells himself. Because he's going to make sure Ian is fine, somehow. Once he figures out how to make him fine.
~~~
Alex is in the kitchen again at lunchtime the next day when Ian stumbles in. He'd stayed in one of the spare rooms, and had sat in the lounge for an hour until he realised it was probably creepy to stare at Ian while he slept, wondering what he was dreaming about, or if he was even dreaming at all.
"Oh," Ian says, when he sees Alex. He sounds disappointed, and Alex thinks that maybe he wasn't supposed to stay, that he should have gone, but then Ian gives him a sad, apologetic smile.
"I thought maybe it had all been a bad dream," he explains. "But if you're here then I guess I didn't imagine it all." He slumps into a chair at the table, opposite Alex, and Alex gets up, pours him coffee, makes him a grilled cheese sandwich because that's pretty much all Ian has in the house. He should have gone out and gotten groceries while Ian was asleep, he knows. That's what he should have done, but he didn't want Ian to wake up alone again. He wonders how many days Ian's been waking up in an empty house. But he doesn't ask. They don't talk while Alex cooks, don't talk while Ian eats his sandwich. He licks his fingers when he's done and smiles at Alex and Alex smiles back.
Ian tilts his head to the side, as if waiting for questions that never come. Alex knows what it's like to not want to talk about things, to dread being asked and having to give an honest answer, lay himself open for ridicule and criticism and pity, or to lie.
"You need more food," Alex says.
Ian shrugs. "We can always order takeout." He gets up and walks out of the kitchen, leaving his dirty plate behind.
Alex tips the crumbs into the trash and washes it. His hands are still slightly damp and soapy when he goes in search of Ian. He's not downstairs, so he climbs the stairs slowly, and finds Ian sitting on the bed Alex slept in. The room is bright- curtains open letting in the sunlight that reflects off the layer of snow covering the outside world. The bed is made, only because Alex was killing time this morning. From his position in the doorway, he can see how it contrasts sharply with Ian's bedroom down the end of the hallway. It's dark in there and the only thing distinguishable in the shadows is the mess of blankets and duvet and pillows on the bed.
Ian looks up at Alex. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, looking down to trace the pattern on the comforter.
"Do you want to talk?" Alex asks. He's not sure if it's the right question, or if it's too soon to ask, but he says it anyway.
"Do you want to listen?" Ian shoots back, not looking up and Alex frowns and folds his arms. Ian sounds angry. Angry at Alex and that's not fair.
Alex goes and sits next to him. "We have a couple of options," he says. He figures if he's not sure which course of action to take, laying it all out on the table and letting Ian choose is the next best thing. "You can tell me what happened and maybe it'll help. You can not tell me what happened and I'll hang out for a few days and then go home, if that's what you want and then you can call me up and tell me what happened over the phone when I'm too far away to be much help. Or I can cheerfully pretend nothing's wrong and shove you into the shower and do your laundry for you and be so annoying that you snap and punch me and then tell me what happened."
Ian doesn't say anything.
"Because the way I see it," Alex continues, "you wouldn't have asked me to come visit if you didn't want to talk about it."
Ian grunts, whether in acknowledgement or annoyance, Alex doesn't know, and lets himself flop back until he's lying on the bed, feet still on the floor. Alex tucks his legs under himself and waits.
"She doesn't love me anymore," Ian starts, and Alex doesn't know what to say so he reaches out and takes the hand closest to him, which is tapping arhythmically against the comforter.
Ian doesn't try to pull his hand away. He just keeps talking.
Alex listens.
~~~
Later, when it's gone dark outside, Alex asks Ian if he wants to sleep in here with him but Ian shakes his head and yawns and goes into his bedroom. He shuts the door and Alex leaves him alone. It's only 5 o'clock but Alex is hungry so he goes and looks in the fridge again and then does what Ian suggested and orders in. He gets a pizza so that there'll be leftovers for breakfast and curls up in front of the TV to watch reruns.
He wakes up early the next morning, body stiff from sleeping in an armchair, when his phone rings. It's across the other side of the room, and Alex wouldn't move except it's Cash's ringtone and he can never not answer if Cash calls.
"'Lo?" he asks.
"Allie's been up fussing all night," Cash greets him. "And now I can't sleep, so I thought I'd see how my best buddy was doing."
"Sleeping," Alex says, and Cash sounds apologetic when he says "Lazy ass."
"How's it going? You guys writing up there?"
Alex wonders if maybe that'd help, getting some lyrics, a tune, something down on paper. That's how he gets those feelings in his gut to stop twisting as painfully. It's easier than he'd ever thought, back in high school listening to music and trying to interpret the lyrics, to hide the true meaning of a song, the feelings, behind words that have nothing to do with the subject of the song. If it wasn't so easy, Cash would probably have figured things out by now.
"Not yet," Alex says and sighs.
"What's wrong?" Cash sounds concerned, the playful tone gone from his voice.
"Nothing," Alex says, but when Cash makes a disbelieving noise he can't help himself. "Ian's getting a divorce."
Cash sighs. "Oh," he says.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment.
"She left him," Alex says, both to fill the silence, and because he has to tell Cash. He tells Cash (almost) everything. "She didn't...he didn't...neither of them-" he sighs. "She just said it was over and that she wanted a divorce and left." He knows he sounds frustrated, and he doesn't know if it's his own frustration or if he's channelling it from Ian.
"Fuck," Cash mutters. "Is Ian okay?"
"No. No he's not," Alex wonders if he sounds as helpless as he feels.
"Do you need me to come up there?" Cash asks. It's another reason on the long list of things Alex loves about Cash- that he'll drop everything to be there for a friend. He knows he's already mentally thinking about flights and whether he can leave Allie for that long.
"No," Alex says firmly. He can handle this- Ian called him, after all.
He tells Cash this.
There's a pause. "Maybe he just called you because he knew you didn't have any responsibilities." Cash says exactly what Alex has been pondering in the back of his mind.
"I mean," Cash continues, "you're the only one of us who could jump on the next plane without having to worry about things."
"Yeah," Alex says, but what he actually means is "Fuck you." He doesn't say that though, not until Cash says, "Besides, you're not married or anything- how can you know what he's going through?"
Alex tells him to fuck off with feeling and hangs up on him. He ignores his phone when it rings again.
When Ian comes downstairs they watch all of Star Wars back to back. Alex doesn't really like Star Wars, but he watches anyway and keeps Ian company. They don't talk about the conversation yesterday and Alex doesn't tell Ian that Cash knows.
Ian's phone doesn't ring, and Alex is grateful that they're leaving him to deal with it, even if maybe he should have said yes to Cash's offer.
~~~
"We should go out tonight," Alex says two days later.
Ian looks at him in surprise, like this is something out of the blue, but Alex has been locked up in this house (her house, he thinks, even though only half of it is- he's not sure if Ian's going to have to sell it, if maybe he can convince Ian to move back to Vegas) for too long and he's getting cabin fever.
"Go out where?" Ian asks, and Alex shrugs, too casually.
"I don't know. A club maybe? Or a bar. Somewhere social."
Ian narrows his eyes. "We don't go to clubs," he points out, and it's true, they really don't. "And I don't want a drink."
Alex doesn't say anything, worries at his thumbnail for a couple of moments, aware that Ian is still watching him.
"Fine," he admits. "Cash says you need a rebound fuck."
Ian doesn't look surprised that Cash knows. Alex wonders if he should tell him that Cash told Marshall and Johnson, that Cash has been phoning every day to make sure Ian's okay, offering advice carefully, so as to not piss Alex off again.
"Really," Ian says flatly.
Alex nods. "He says that it will let you convince yourself that it's over, because he doesn't think you're doing that and it's unhealthy to pretend she might come back," he parrots, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Cash that morning, when Ian had finally agreed to have a shower. It was progress, but not enough for Cash, who'd insisted that this was the best course of action.
"She-" Ian starts to say but Alex shakes his head and interrupts.
"Isn't coming back," Alex says firmly. "And you need to move on. And once you have sex with someone else, it'll be a new chapter of your life and that one will be over and you can start moving forward."
Ian's lips quirk into an almost smile. "Cash is a douche," he says, and Alex agrees wholeheartedly.
"But I think he's right," Alex says. "Go out there, get drunk, find someone you can spend a night with and just...you know. Forget for a short while."
Ian rolls his eyes. "That's not my style," he says. "You know that."
And he’s right- Ian had never been like that, not even back in the crazy days when it had all gotten too much for them and they’d done stupid things, collected regrets like they were supposed to. But Ian had been disinterested in empty liaisons like that. Alex hadn’t understood at the time, but now he thinks Ian always was the wisest out of all of them.
“Maybe it’s time to change your style?” Alex asks. There are unspoken words in the air that he hadn’t meant, hadn’t intended to say, never would say. But he’s sure that Ian hears “maybe she wouldn’t have left you if you’d changed,” judging by the stricken look on Ian’s face.
“I didn’t mean-” Alex reaches out a hand, but Ian shrugs.
“I know,” he says. “I don’t want that though. I don’t want to fuck a stranger, even if it’ll magically make me forget everything.”
“It doesn’t have to be a stranger,” Alex points out. Ian gives him a strange look, but Alex carries on anyway. “I mean, do you have any friends here who you could make a move on?” He pauses and thinks about the girls he knows, if any of them would be Ian’s type, if they’d do them both a favour like that. He’s attempting to make a list when Ian clears his throat.
“A friend?” Ian repeats and shrugs when Alex nods.
“Just a girl you can spend a night with,” Alex explains. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, doesn’t have to ruin your friendship, doesn’t have to be anything more than just sex.”
Ian looks confused again. “Maybe,” he says, and yawns. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he adds and leaves the room, even though it’s only mid-afternoon.
Alex mentally curses Cash for the suggestion, blaming it for the confusion on Ian’s face. He hopes he hasn’t said the wrong thing, that he’s not damaged Ian with the suggestion instead of mending him a little.
Alex fills out the rest of the day the same way he’s been for the rest of the week, watching TV and listening to music and staring at the blank pages of his notebook, because he’s pretty sure any words that get written down in it should be his own, not an imitation of what Ian may or may not be feeling.
~~~
Alex wakes up and he's not sure why. It's still dark and the room is silent. It takes him a moment to note the change in tension on the mattress, to realise someone- Ian, obviously- is sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong?" Alex asks, sitting up and squinting in the darkness. He knows he shouldn't be this on edge, but he's been waiting for something to happen. He just doesn't know what that something is. But he figures Ian has to snap and do something- cry again, or punch a wall or maybe Alex's face, or destroy something that reminds him of her. Especially if he's not going to heed Cash's advice.
"I've been thinking," Ian says. He turns to face Alex, and Alex can see the whites of his eyes, and a flash of his teeth in the darkness. Ian shifts until he's kneeling on the bed beside Alex.
"About what?" Alex asks, when Ian doesn't carry on. He sees Ian go very still, and then he reaches up and puts his hand in Alex's hair.
Alex isn't sure what he's doing, which is maybe naïve of him, but he can't help letting out a squeak of surprise when Ian leans in and kisses him.
It makes Ian pull back immediately, and Alex's eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough that he can see the panic on Ian's features, can see that he's sad and upset and confused and worried all at once. Ian starts to move away, slowly, and Alex takes advantage of his mouth opening- to issue an apology probably, an excuse maybe- and kisses him back.
This time Ian's the one making the surprised noise, but it sounds happy. Ian's mouth is warm and Alex thinks that this probably isn't the way to make Ian fine again, but it seems to be making Ian happy right now, and that's something at least. It's Cash's advice they're following, and Alex wonders if Cash knew this would be the result, if he'd even care. And then Ian puts his hands back in Alex's hair and presses him back down onto the bed, and Alex forgets about Cash and just thinks about Ian.
Alex has honestly never thought of Ian in this way, apart from that brief moment, early on when he'd been coming to terms with his own sexuality and was suddenly hyper aware of how he got to spend his days with four hot guys, any of whom he'd be lucky to get to do this with. If he had thought of it, though, he wouldn't have thought it'd be like this. Ian is tender and gentle and attentive, clever fingers dusting over Alex's skin as they undress.
It's fumbly enough at first, and they giggle through rolling the condom onto Ian, slicking Alex up. Alex watches Ian's face a little too closely, making sure this is really what he wants, and the smile at the corner of Ian's mouth lets him know it is, that it's the right thing, that it's what Ian needs. Right now.
It's not until Ian slides inside him and stops and says "Hi," in a surprised voice that makes Alex grin wider than he has any right to, that he thinks maybe he's not just doing this for Ian.
~~~
The morning light is bright against Alex's eyelids and he rolls over to bury his face away from it, but meets flesh and bone instead of soft pillowy fabric.
Alex goes very still and lifts his head, smiling hesitantly up at Ian.
"Morning," Ian says warily, as if afraid Alex is going to freak out. It makes Alex relax, because he'd been sure Ian would be the one panicking.
"Hi," Alex says and smiles. He stretches and yawns, and catches Ian watching the flex of the muscles in his chest.
Ian meets Alex's eyes and blushes. He looks away. "I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't be," Alex says firmly, and Ian looks back at him.
"This isn't going to be awkward, right?" he asks, and Alex shrugs.
"Maybe? I don't know. It shouldn't."
Ian nods slowly.
"It maybe surprised me?" Alex adds after a moment. "I mean, I never knew-"
"It made sense," Ian interrupts. "Last night. I thought about Cash's advice and how I don't do strangers. And then. You were here and you're my friend and I think it really helped. Don't tell Cash he was right though," he adds.
Ian laughs, but carries on before Alex can echo it with a laugh of his own. "I just don't want you to be confused. I mean. This was...thank you. But I don't want you to think it meant something big, too much. I'm not asking anything of you, so don't worry. There's no feelings to reciprocate so it's okay that you don't."
It takes Alex a moment of frowning to get what Ian is saying, but when he figures it out he smiles. He hesitates. "I'm in love with Cash," he confesses. He means it to be comforting, to let Ian know that he doesn't think last night was some big declaration of love, but Ian looks shell shocked.
Alex laughs nervously, and Ian closes his eyes, shakes his head, and seems to collect himself.
"Wow," he says. "I didn't see that coming. Are you. I mean. Did you guys..."
Alex shakes his head vigorously, curls flying into his face. He brushes them aside.
"He doesn't know," Alex says. "It's not...I know it's hopeless, okay? But. If that helps, you knowing, then it's worth me telling you. I don't expect anything from you either."
Ian licks his lips and nods.
"You know," he says. "I'm going to have a shower. And then I think I'm going to go for a walk."
This is progress; Ian hasn't left the house since he met Alex at the airport. Neither of them have, and Alex itches for the feel of fresh, icy air in his lungs and the feel of pavement beneath his feet.
"Want company?" Alex asks. "On the walk!" he clarifies hastily, feeling his cheeks flush hot.
He hadn't meant to imply joining Ian in the shower, isn't sure if what they did last night was a one time thing or not. He's not even sure what he wants it to be- it's not like it's been a long time since Alex last had sex (he might be in love with Cash, but he's not a monk, has a healthy sex life with people who aren't that important to him outside of the bedroom) but last night had been nice, comfortable, comforting. Familiar even, which maybe should have been weird.
Ian smiles, wide, and gets out of bed. Alex averts his eyes as Ian pulls his boxers back on. When he chances a look over, Ian is standing in the doorway, watching him.
"I think I'll be okay on my own," Ian says, and leaves.
Alex tries not to read too much into Ian's words. He doesn't have a magic ass that instantly healed Ian of all his pain when they fucked, but the fact he's venturing outside is definitely a step forward.
When Ian goes for his walk, hair still damp despite Alex warning him he'll catch cold, Alex phones Cash.
"Did Ian take my advice?" Cash asks, as if there's no chance Alex wouldn't have passed the advice on to Ian.
Alex hesitates for a split second. "Yeah," he says as lightly as he can manage.
"And?" Cash prompts. For a horrible panicky moment Alex thinks maybe Cash knows what happened last night. He's not sure why he cares- Cash certainly knows Alex is hardly a virgin who can’t drive and sits at home darning socks or whatever it is spinsters are supposed to do- but sleeping with Ian seems more real than any of that, maybe just because it's closer to home, it's with one of their own.
"Alex?" Cash says. "You still there?"
"Yeah, sorry," Alex says.
"Well?" Cash asks again. "Did it work?"
Alex can't help but smile, just a little. "Yeah," he says. "I think maybe it did. He seemed better this morning. He's gone for a walk. And we talked for a bit."
Cash makes a happy noise down the phone. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," he says. "We're all worried about him."
Alex doesn't reply, just nods even though Cash can't see him.
"I'm glad you're there with him," Cash adds. "Look, I've got to go. Tell him I said hi and that he should tell me all about the piece of ass he got last night sometime."
Alex chokes on his own spit, and Cash seems to think he's laughing and chuckles back.
"I guess he told you all about it then?" Cash asks, and Alex blurts out some non-reply and an excuse why he has to hang up.
He paces about for awhile afterwards, thinks about how none of them probably want Cash to hear about Ian's rebound fuck, and about Cash telling him to keep doing whatever he's doing. He's not sure if that's even an option.
Ian comes back and they don’t really talk, just sit and work their way through the TV channels. When Ian yawns, Alex stands up and says he’s going to bed. They both look at each other, and then Alex’s fingers twitch in Ian’s direction, almost offering a welcoming hand but not quite, not if it’s inappropriate. Not if it’s not what Ian wants.
Ian stands up though, and brushes his fingers against Alex’s and they go up to Alex’s room and shut the door behind them.
~~~
When the ten days Alex had intended to spend in New Hampshire are up, he pays the fee to change his flights home to a later date and calls Cash to let him know he’s going to be staying for awhile longer.
“I’m not sure,” he says, when Cash asks how long.
“Ian’s not doing so good then?” Cash sounds worried, but he shouldn’t.
“Ian is…” Alex trails off and things about the last week, how they’d fallen into a habit of sleeping together in Alex’s room, having sex when they felt like it, hanging out like normal the rest of the time. It had been easy, comfortable, natural, and Ian was smiling more, the frown lines not seeming as pronounced, although maybe Alex wasn’t looking for them anymore, was looking for something else.
“He’s good,” Alex finishes, because it’s true, or seems to be. “He’s more relaxed. And he seems happier, more like himself. We’ve been leaving the house, going shopping.” - because they ran out of condoms and lube, although he doesn’t tell Cash this.
“You sound good too,” Cash says, sounding happy, relieved. Alex hadn’t really thought about it much, how he’s been feeling. He’s just glad Ian seems to be better. Not quite okay, not quite fine, but better, which means he’s doing his job, at least.
“I guess.”
“Really,” Cash insists. “Ian’s obviously good for you.”
Alex knows what Cash means- that being in his company, being there for him, getting to hang with him is good for Alex.
But when he thinks about it, maybe something else they’ve been doing, been being is good for him too.
Alex didn’t know what to do before, how to fix Ian. He’s not sure this is the way. He’s not sure this is going to be good for Ian.
He thinks on the conversation all afternoon, all evening, and only belatedly realises that Cash telling him he sounded good didn’t give him that hot, delighted feeling low in his stomach, in his heart, in his lips, that it should have done.
Alex thinks he should probably stop this thing, whatever it is.
~~~
It’s a week later and Alex hasn’t stopped this thing they’re doing because he’s not sure he’s allowed to, not sure it’s the right thing to do, not sure it won’t break Ian all over again if he does stop. And maybe he doesn’t want to, if he’s perfectly honest with himself.
So the days pass and they keep sleeping together, keep up the little touches that have become more and more frequent, although they keep all the sex to Alex’s room. Alex figures that it’s maybe the only place Ian hadn’t had sex with his wife, that it’s the only place Ian feels comfortable doing this. And that’s okay, even if Alex can’t help but frown at the door of Ian’s bedroom, where he still hasn’t opened the curtains or changed the sheet. Not that that matters, as he’s not sleeping in there anymore- he falls asleep beside Alex, and wakes up beside him the next morning and seems perfectly happy to be doing so.
It’s a Wednesday when Alex realises he’s screwed up, that he came here to fix Ian and he’s probably going to end up undoing all the fragile mending he’s been so carefully attempting.
They’ve braved the outside world again, for food this time, and Alex is cooking because they’ve been through all the take out menus Ian has twice already. He’s standing at the stove, sautéing something just because he can, when Ian comes up behind him, hooks his chin over Alex’s shoulder and watches.
His hands are on Alex’s waist, casual, like they would have stood, maybe, before all this. But the kiss Ian presses beneath Alex’s ear, moving his hand to sweep the curls away first, that’s something they never would have done. It means something, and Alex shivers when Ian wanders off. He misses the feel of Ian pressed against his back, misses the press of lips to his neck, misses the smell of Ian wrapping around him.
He knows this feeling, knows it better than he wants to. It’s how he’d felt for the first few years of his friendship with Cash, the longing, the need, the honeymoon period of being in love.
Alex thinks of Cash, thinks about loving him, and it’s still there, maybe always will be, because it’s Cash, and how can he not love him? But it’s not the same. It’s different. Less. Easier.
He knows he should feel relieved, happy even that maybe he’s finally moving on with his life. But to move on onto another band mate, another friend, probably isn’t the healthiest thing to do.
Alex resolves to tell Ian he can’t do this anymore. He goes to bed early, claiming to be tired, but when Ian climbs in beside him five minutes later and presses chilly hands to Alex’s bed-warmed flesh, he shivers and rolls over and kisses Ian first. Alex knows he’s greedy, that he’s wrong, that this is dangerous, but he has Ian here, now, and he wants to hold onto it for a little longer. He’s just not sure how long.
His question is answered that morning when he wakes up and Ian isn’t in bed beside him. Alex goes downstairs in his pyjamas and finds Ian making breakfast. He’s showered, wet hair hanging down his neck as he flips a pancake. And he’s humming.
“Morning,” he says brightly when he spots Alex and flips the pancake onto a plate and hands it to him.
Alex doesn’t know what to say, so he eats his pancake. Ian continues to hum as he cooks, and when he’s done he adds to Alex’s half eaten stack then sets a plate down for himself.
“I was thinking we could try writing some songs today,” Ian remarks as he pours syrup onto his plate, zigzagging it across the pancakes. “I mean, we could just jam, mess around a bit, but maybe we could get some stuff down on paper too?”
Alex tries to swallow his mouthful of food and fails, has to wash it down with a gulp of orange juice.
“Okay,” he says. He attempts to sound bright and happy but it doesn’t come. Ian frowns at him a little but they go into the music room and throw ideas about and it’s fun, it’s natural, it’s exactly like it’s always been. When Alex looks at Ian he can’t even see the cracks where he’s been glued back together- he seems like the same old Ian he’s always known, goofy and happy and focused and playful and talented.
When they decide to call it a day even though it’s just past lunch, when Alex voice cracks a little when he hits the high notes, when Ian’s fingers start to cramp, Ian leans in to kiss Alex.
Alex turns his face away, and there’s a horrible, quiet moment.
“Alex?” Ian says, unsure, sad, resigned, all at the same time.
“I think we should stop doing this,” Alex says. “I’m sorry. I should never…you don’t need this, okay?
“I do though,” Ian insists.
Alex sighs and looks at him. Ian’s curled in on himself, looking tiny and alone, and Alex hates himself for a moment, but he knows this is important, knows it’s unfair to Ian to carry on.
“You don’t,” he says. “You really don’t. God, Ian, look at yourself. You’re going to be okay. And maybe what we were doing helped, but you don’t need this, don’t need me to do this.”
“Alex, really, I do-”
“I’m falling in love with you!” Alex shouts. The words seem to hang in the air for a moment, echoing uncomfortably in his ears, and Ian looks as shell shocked as he had when Alex had confessed his love for Cash.
“I’m sorry,” Alex says, small and miserable. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Cash, then you…you should probably phone Johnson and Marshall, warn them they’re next. But it’s not fair on you, sleeping with me to forget her, when I’m sleeping with you because it drives me crazy when I’m not touching you, when I’m not kissing you, when I don’t have you inside me. It’s not right- it’s weird and creepy and worse than what I’ve done to Cash, secretly loving him for all those years.”
Alex gets up and goes into his room. He shuts the door firmly and starts to pack. He doesn’t think of Ian’s face when he’d said he loved him, the surprise, the confusion. Instead he focuses on folding his shirts just so. He’s so intent on it he doesn’t hear the door open.
“Come with me,” Ian says, and Alex jumps. He turns around and stares at Ian, who stands in the doorway looking decisive, resolute.
“Come on,” Ian says, and holds out a hand. Alex doesn’t take it, but he follows when Ian leads. They walk down the hallway to Ian’s room.
“I need your help,” Ian explains, and walks over to the windows. He throws the curtains open, and light floods into the room. It’s too bright and Alex blinks into it while Ian goes to the bed and starts to strip it, shoving the dirty sheets into a hamper. He pulls out some new, clean ones, crisp and fresh and folded, and shakes it out over the bed, gesturing for Alex to help.
Together they make Ian’s bed, not talking, not looking at each other, just carefully tucking in corners and stuffing pillows into pillowcases. Then they stand back to admire their handiwork.
The room looks different with the bed made, with the light, and Ian is smiling as he looks around.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Alex says, since there seems to be nothing else to say. He’d achieved his task somehow, achieved what he’d mentally assigned to be a sign that Ian was going to be alright.
“Alex,” Ian calls him back, and Alex hesitates despite himself.
“What you said before,” Ian continues when Alex turns around. “About not needing whatever it is that’s been going on between us. Not needing you. You’re wrong. I do need it, but not because it’s some lifeline I’m clinging to.”
“Then what-” Alex tries to ask, but Ian rushes on.
“My marriage never felt right,” he says. “I loved her, loved her so much, with all my heart and soul, but it never felt…right. There’s no other word for it. I was happy, or I thought I was, but there was something off, something missing. This…whatever it is. This feels right.”
Alex inhales sharply. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demands.
“You said you were in love with Cash,” Ian points out. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, to make you feel like you had to keep doing this, had to stay. So, yeah, I do need this, do need you to keep doing this, but only if you want to.”
Alex licks his lips nervously. “Are you sure?”
Ian nods. “If you are,” he says earnestly and then sighs. “I spent three years of my life in a relationship where we shared lives and a bed, just like we’ve been doing, but it felt like it was because we should, not because we wanted to, because it felt natural to. I don’t want that again.”
Alex hesitates. It’s not a returning declaration of anything, but it’s something, a spark of maybe. The beginnings of something more.
He takes a step forward, then another, and Ian meets him halfway. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Ian pulls Alex down onto the bed, and Alex goes willingly.
They fuck on top of the covers on Ian’s bed, in Ian’s room, with the curtains wide open and the light streaming in, casting shadows on their bare skin as they move together.
~~~
“How’s Ian doing?” Cash asks. It’s a daily routine now- Cash calling in the morning, checking on them, and Alex reporting on their progress, how Ian is laughing again or smiling at the neighbours or showering on a regular basis.
“Ian’s doing fine!” Ian calls from across the room, even though he can’t possibly hear their conversation.
“Ian’s there?” Cash sounds surprised. Alex had taken a lot of effort to not let Ian overhear the calls.
“Yeah,” Alex says, smiling. “He’s here. He’s fine.”
“Really?” Cash sounds hopeful and relieved.
“I’m fine too,” Alex adds, before Cash can ask. He knows Cash hears something in his tone by the “Oh?” he gets in reply.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m doing really find. Me and Ian. We. We’re both doing fine.”
Cash doesn’t ask, but there’s a smile in his voice that lets Alex know he maybe understands what Alex isn’t saying. “Any chance of you bringing our boy home soon?”
Alex glances over at Ian, who catches him looking and smiles back. His face is open, shoulders relaxed. He looks like someone who could be convinced to come back to Vegas if Alex only asked.
“Yeah,” Alex tells Cash. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”