Fic: Love Me Like Sunday, 2/2, Rated NC-17
Title: Love Me Like Sunday
Author: courts
Disclaimer: Look for "Ham On Rye: The Series" on UPN this fall. No, really. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash, Hamilton/Ryder
Summary: A chance meeting brings two men together after years apart, bringing forth past mistakes and future possibilities.
Author's Note: At least partial credit for this story idea has to go to the New Radicals for their song, "Crying Like A Church on Monday" which inspired me. The lyrics that appear at the beginning of each part are from that song. Oh, and the song that they dance to in the second part is "Again" by Janet Jackson. And, lastly, thank you to Toria, a most excellent beta, without whom this story would probably still be sitting on my hard drive collecting dust.
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Part 2: Present
And I'm crying like a church on Monday
Praying for these feelings to go away
So do me a favor baby
Put down your new God
And love me like Sunday again . . .
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It was late. He wasn't even sure what time it was, but he knew that it was late. The windows in his office were all dark and everything was quiet, like he was the last person left in the world. A knock on his office door told him otherwise.
"Come in," Ryder called. The door opened to reveal Mitzy, his secretary.
"Mr. Forrest? Everything okay?" she asked softly in the gentle way she had. She was from Charleston, but didn't have much of an accent. Her voice just retained this slow, soothing quality that seemed to put people at ease almost immediately. Ryder had liked Mitzy from the start.
"I'm fine, Mitz, thanks," he replied with an attempt at a smile. His afternoon had mostly consisted of reflecting on the past and it hadn't put him in the best of moods.
"You've been in here all day," she said. "Did you even have lunch?" He hadn't thought about it, but now he realized that he didn't remember eating. Actually, the last thing he remembered was his conversation with Hamilton at Starbucks that morning. The rest of the day was sort of a blur. "You should go home and get some sleep," she suggested. "Everything here can wait until morning."
Glancing around his desk, Ryder knew that she was right. He wasn't getting anything done and the chances were that he wouldn't, at least not today. Maybe what he really needed was a good night's sleep to clear his head. "Yeah, you're probably right," he conceded.
"Do you think you're coming down with something?" she asked as she held out is coat for him to put it on.
"Um, I dunno. Could be," he answered. He wondered what she'd say if he told the truth. If he said that, no, he wasn't sick. He had just run into this guy he used to be in love with; a guy who had broken his heart and whom he probably still wasn't completely over. That probably wouldn't have been the most professional response, but at least it would have been honest.
"Feel better, Mr. Forrest," she said kindly as she watched him walk towards the elevators. He didn't think that would happen, but he could always hope.
* * * * *
'God, what a day,' Ryder thought as he climbed the last flight of stairs to his third floor apartment. Although he hadn't done much of anything but sit in his office all day, he found that he was completely exhausted. Apparently, reliving bad memories could take a lot out of a person. He sighed, getting his key in the door and entering his apartment.
The truth was, he'd come a long way in the last ten years. After everything with Hamilton had ended, Ryder had closed himself off, becoming the campus asshole again until that spring when he finally graduated and left Rawley behind forever. He'd gone on to college, earning his degree in advertising and landing a job with one of the top companies in Chicago. Now he was the second youngest executive in the firm, and one of the best. His work was his life and there weren't too many times when he regretted that.
Of course, he hadn't exactly led the life of a monk since he'd parted ways with Hamilton. Ryder felt like his personal life had been fulfilling, for the most part. After leaving Rawley, he had decided that he'd had enough of hiding who he was. It was at Columbia that next fall when he finally started to accept himself and to let the rest of the world do the same. By the time he graduated, Ryder was openly gay and fairly comfortable with himself. He'd had a few relationships in college, some lasting, others not, but he was always aware that he held back. He never opened himself up to another person the way that he had with Hamilton for those two months when he was eighteen. Logically he knew that this probably had a lot to do with why his relationships didn't work out, but he just couldn't seem to allow himself to become that vulnerable again. It had hurt so much that first time and he wasn't willing to relive that, even if it meant he was alone more often than not.
His last boyfriend, Miles, had been a psych major in college. Of course, by the time Ryder met him he was working at a battered women's shelter, but that didn't seem to deter Miles from psychoanalyzing his boyfriend every chance he got.
"You need to face the past so that you can move on with your future," Miles told him one day after they'd somehow gotten into yet another discussion about the 'issues' that Ryder supposedly had. They were sitting on fold out lounge chairs on the roof of Ryder's apartment building in the middle of July, sweating like pigs in order to gain a tan, and Ryder just wished that they could *not* have this conversation.
He sighed heavily and said without turning to look at Miles through his dark sunglasses, "Why must we always discuss this?"
"You're withholding," Miles accused.
"You're annoying," Ryder countered without malice. "Can we just enjoy the sun?" he suggested hopefully.
"I worry, Ryder. I worry that you're not *here* with me; that what we have isn't *going* anywhere. I mean, where do you see us a month from now? Or a year? Or ten years, even? Where are we headed together?" Miles asked.
Ryder shook his head and sighed again. "I don't know, Miles. How am I supposed to answer that? It's not like I can see the future."
"But you know what you're capable of and I have the feeling that long-term commitment doesn't make the list," his boyfriend said. He got up from his chair and moved over to Ryder's, urging him to sit up so that Miles could slide in behind him. He laid a kiss on Ryder's warm, bare shoulder and wrapped his arms around his lover's middle. "I know that someone hurt you, baby, and I just want you to let me in," he said softly, his cheek pressed against Ryder's spine.
"Easier said than done," Ryder replied as he leaned back into the touch.
"It is easy," Miles told him, his legs coming up to tangle with Ryder's and Ryder flipped over so that he was lying on top of Miles now. "You just have to want it badly enough, that's all."
"I want you pretty badly," Ryder said with a smile as he leaned in to steal a kiss.
"You're changing the subject," Miles said.
"But you're not stopping me," Ryder pointed out as he ran his hands down Miles' sides and hooked his thumbs in the swim trunks his boyfriend wore. "I think we've picked my brain apart enough for today. Let's move on to more entertaining things." He followed his words by running his tongue up Miles' neck and stopping to mouth his ear. He knew that drove Miles crazy.
"Ahh . . . you always try to distract me," he half-groaned. "Mmm, but . . . ahh . . . you could be right. Maybe we should . . . oh God . . . talk about this later . . ."
And that had been the end of talking for that day. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had sex on the roof. Or, for that matter, the last. But eventually, when good sex stopped being enough, the talking became more of an issue and Miles hadn't been willing to hang around forever. They'd parted ways nearly a year before and, though Ryder still saw him occasionally, they both knew that their future wouldn't be together.
Since Miles there really hadn't been anyone. Just a few one night things, and those were mostly when his college roommate, Carmen, decided that he'd been a recluse long enough and dragged him out to whatever club she was frequenting at the moment. Carmen meant well, but she was entirely too worried about his love life. Still, she was the only person in the world he'd even told about the whole Hamilton thing so as soon as he arrived home that evening, she was the first person he thought to call.
"It's about time you called me, you bastard," she said in lieu of hello. Ryder was sure that Carmen should never have gotten call id.
"I love you, too, princess," he chuckled.
"Yes, and you've missed me like crazy and you couldn't live without me and all that. Blah, blah, blah. I know all that, what I'm wondering is why I haven't heard from you in over a week!"
Ryder wasn't at all surprised by this response. Carmen Vargas was his very best friend. They'd met at Columbia during their freshman year in a Shakespearean literature class. She'd commented on his accent, saying that it reminded her of a guy she'd dated in high school who had fucked her over badly and that he'd do well to be a nice guy so that she wouldn't be reminded of what's-his-name every time they saw one another. Ryder had liked her immediately.
Carmen was outspoken, to say the least. Her father was from Puerto Rico and her mother from Kenosha, Wisconsin, but Carmen had grown up in the Bronx. She had six brothers and sisters and she was the middle child. 'You know about that, right?' she had asked him once. 'Middle kids are always the most screwed up. We're too young to pull rank on the older kids and too old to boss around the little ones. So I learned early on to talk my way around anything.' And it was true; Carmen could make absolutely anyone love her in a minute.
She was beautiful, but once you started talking to her, her looks seemed to take a backseat to her personality. Still, she had thick, dark hair, eyes so black that it was hard to see her pupils and flawless skin that always looked perfectly tanned. Ryder had told her many times that if he liked girls then she would be his first choice. She'd laugh, call him a queer and tell him that she felt the same way.
"I'm sorry, Carm," he told her through the phone. "Work has been crazy, Marcus quit, Tony got fired . . . I feel like I've been working for about five people lately."
"And yet it's 7 o'clock on a Wednesday night and you're sitting around shooting the shit on the telephone with little old me. So, spill Blondie. What's on your mind?"
"I saw Hamilton today," he said, not bothering to dance around the issue because he already knew that Carmen would see through him anyway.
"No shit," she breathed. "Damn, did he come to see you?"
"Actually, I ran into him at Starbucks. Spilled coffee on him and everything."
"Serves the bastard right," she muttered. "So, what did he say?"
"Not a lot," Ryder told her. "Just, you know, how ya doing and all that. We didn't talk long."
"But you've been freaked out all day," she said knowingly.
"Yeah."
"I'll be there in ten minutes," she said, then hung up without waiting for a response. He smiled to himself as he cradled the receiver. He knew that he could count on Carmen.
* * * * *
An hour later, they were sitting on the floor around his coffee table eating Chinese take-out from the cartons.
"Do you think he'll call you?" Carmen asked as she speared a shrimp with her chopstick.
"I honestly don't know," Ryder answered as he stared thoughtfully into the container of Kung Pao chicken.
"Do you want him to?"
He sighed, setting the carton aside and laying down his chopsticks. "I don't know that either! I mean, on the one hand, seeing him makes me think about all that happened and I've left all that behind now. I don't need a reminder of how much it hurt to let him go. But then I think about the way his skin tastes and the way his body feels over mine and the way his lips would curve into a smile against my neck and . . . God, Carmen, I still love him so much." He shook his head sadly and gnawed at his bottom lip.
"I know it's hard, sweetie," she said as she scooted closer and put her arm around his shoulder, Ryder's head tilting to lay against hers. "Love sucks."
"Yeah," Ryder muttered and he knew that he was going to cry again but this time he didn't care.
"Maybe seeing him again would be good, you know? I mean, we both know that you've never gotten completely over him so maybe what you need is to see him face to face again and finally resolve all the issues that you never worked out. It could be good for both of you."
"Who's to say he still has issues to resolve?" Ryder said sadly. "He never told me that he felt the same way about me that I did about him. It could have meant nothing to him."
"Not possible," Carmen said. "Anyone who was great enough for you to fall in love with them most certainly had to feel the same way about you. He was just too much of a prick back then to stop worrying about everyone else and do what he wanted."
"I love you, Carmen," Ryder said quietly as he let himself cry on her shoulder.
"I know you do," she replied as she turned to kiss his hair. "I love you, too."
* * * * *
Ryder called in sick the next day, unable to face another day of staring at his office walls and seeing Hamilton's face. Actually, it was Carmen's idea. She told him that he should take some time and think about what he wanted to do, sort through his feelings and whatnot. By ten o'clock when he was watching the third mindless talk show in a row, Ryder was beginning to regret not going to work. He flipped the television off with the remote and got up from the couch to head towards the door. He could at least check the mail. Maybe then he wouldn't be a totally pathetic creature.
He didn't bother to notice the man at the mailboxes until he was right behind him. Then he realized that the man was sticking something in *his* mailbox. 'Oh, it couldn't be . . .' he thought, his stomach twisting. Then the man turned around and, yep, it was.
"Oh, Ryder," Hamilton said in surprise. "I was, um, just leaving you a note."
"What are you doing here?" he asked accusingly. It was one thing to make small talk in Starbucks. That was a public place; he wouldn't have wanted to make a scene. But this, this was his home. Hamilton didn't have a place here.
"I . . . I just wanted . . . I'm not sure, really. I just felt like I should come," he admitted.
"You shouldn't have come here," Ryder told him.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you since yesterday," Hamilton said softly and the words only made Ryder that much more angry.
"What gives you the right?" he exploded. "You walked away, Hamilton! That means you don't get the chance to come back!"
"I'm sorry," he said, seeming unfazed by Ryder's outburst.
"You don't get to be sorry either," Ryder said, his voice lower this time but not any less menacing. "Why did you come here?"
"To say that . . . I dunno, that I'm sorry. That I was stupid. That I never meant to hurt you. I came to try and make amends, I guess." He seemed very sincere but Ryder couldn't bring himself to care.
"It's too late for sorry. And I'm over it so don't let it keep you up." He turned to go, got halfway up the stairs before Hamilton's voice stopped him.
"Maybe I'm the one who isn't over it."
Ryder quit walking but didn't turn around. He stayed still, even when he heard Hamilton's footsteps as he climbed the stairs to stand behind him. Hamilton rested his hand on Ryder's shoulder and said softly, "I never got over you, Ryder." That was the last thing and the only thing that Ryder had wanted to hear.
"Don't! Fuck, Hamilton, don't say that!" he yelled, his face crumpling as he tried desperately not to cry. "That's not fair and you know it," he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm not trying to be fair, I'm trying to be honest." He moved up to stand on the same step with Ryder, their shoulders almost touching as he whispered dangerously close to Ryder's ear, "God, I've missed you so much."
And then they were kissing and Ryder hated himself the minute he let his lips touch Hamilton's but he also couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried so he just gave in instead. They ended up sitting halfway on the stairs, making out, when they heard a door shut on the floor above and reluctantly parted.
"Upstairs," Ryder panted and Hamilton nodded, letting Ryder take his hand and lead the way as they stood together.
They practically fell on top of one another as soon as the door closed behind them and Ryder already knew that there was no going back. Not that he really wanted to at that point.
"I've missed you so much," Hamilton said as he tugged at the buttons on Ryder's jeans.
"Oh God, I've missed you. You don't even know," he replied as he pushed upwards into Hamilton's touch.
Pretty soon they were both naked . . . or at least basically naked. Hamilton's shirt hadn't made it completely off and Ryder's pants were still tangled around one of his ankles, but that didn't seem to matter as Hamilton pinned him to the floor and pushed inside of him with a strangled moan. "Ohhhh God," Ryder groaned, his head banging against the carpet loudly. He knew this was a mistake, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy it.
They moved together fluidly, Ryder's nails sinking into the soft skin of Hamilton's back as Hamilton drove into him again and again. He remembered this instantly, the feel of Hamilton's skin and the harsh, ragged sound of his breathing and the way his hips moved perfectly in time with Ryder's. They'd always been this way together, even the few other times they'd done this and even though they'd both been wholly inexperienced at the time, they'd always fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, perfect and exact.
It was almost over way too soon and Ryder always hated this part because it wasn't over yet but he knew that the end would be there any second and the dread washed over him right before the pleasure hit. He felt every cell in his body liquefy as he came loudly between them, Hamilton following right along. Then they were crumpled together on the floor just inside Ryder's living room and he knew he should regret this but he just wanted the opportunity to hold Hamilton for a while before that had to start.
He felt Hamilton's lips press high on his cheekbone just beside his ear and he closed his eyes to savor the feeling. "It's been too long," Hamilton breathed. Ryder could only nod and twine his arms tighter around Hamilton's sweat-covered body.
They eventually got up from the floor and moved into the bedroom, cleaning up a little before lying down together on Ryder's bed. He hadn't remembered Hamilton being *this* good at giving head when they were teenagers, so Ryder knew he must have had some practice since then. He tried not to feel jealous as he pushed his hips up, hitting the back of Hamilton's throat and groaning.
By mid-afternoon they'd had sex twice and fallen asleep around one another on Ryder's bed. He woke up to find Hamilton watching him and got a sickening feeling of déjà vu.
"How could it have been ten years already?" Hamilton said softly when he saw that Ryder was awake. "You look exactly the same as you did then; nothing has changed."
And that did it, because *everything* had changed. Ryder seemed to suddenly realize just what he'd allowed to happen and he sat up quickly, pulling away from Hamilton. "I can't believe this," he muttered.
"Ryder," Hamilton started and reached out for him but Ryder pulled away sharply.
"Don't. This was a mistake, Hamilton. I never should have let this happen." He picked up a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulled them on hastily. "You should go," he said without turning around.
"You don't really want--" he started.
"Yes, I do," Ryder said. "I want you to go."
"But--"
"No," he insisted. "I can't. I can't do this again, Hamilton. Just . . . go." He stood up then, walking into the living room to sit on the couch. A few minutes later, Hamilton emerged from the bedroom, pulling on his clothes. He came to sit beside Ryder, staying on the opposite end of the couch.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Hamilton said softly and Ryder wasn't sure if he meant today or ten years ago but he had a feeling it was a little of both.
"I don't want to do this, Hamilton," he said, still not meeting the other man's eyes.
"I know," Hamilton nodded. "I just . . . I wanted to apologize, I guess. For before. But . . . I'm not sorry about today, Ryder. I meant everything I said to you." Ryder didn't answer, was afraid to, afraid of what his voice might sound like if he let it loose just then. Instead, he stayed on the couch and made a point of not watching as Hamilton finally got up and headed for the door. He kept his eyes averted until the door finally closed behind Hamilton. Again.
* * * * *
"You *what*?!" Carmen shouted into the phone. "Oh my God, I can't believe it!" she screeched after he told her the whole story. He hadn't expected anything less. "I can't believe you had sex with him! So, how was it?"
"Carmen," he said warningly.
"What? I dish to you," she countered.
"It was . . . nice."
"Nice? The guy you've been in love with forever shows up at your apartment after ten years and drags you upstairs to fuck you in the foyer and you say it was 'nice'? Ryder, I hope for your sake that that is a colossal understatement."
He chuckled then amended, "Okay, so it was better than nice. It was probably the best sex I've had. Ever. You happy now?"
He could almost hear Carmen smirk as she replied, "We know you are, hot stuff."
"So, back to the issue at hand, what the hell do I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I had *sex* with *Hamilton*, Carm! Sex! Hamilton! Those two words were never supposed to go together again, remember?"
"Honey, those two words haven't been exclusive for you since you were eighteen years old," she pointed out kindly. Which was true, of course, but no one else could have said that without him getting angry. This was Carmen, though, and he wouldn't have expected less from her.
"It's just so crazy. I can't believe I let this happen."
"I can," she said. "I've seen pictures; this guy is hot. And you're nuts about him. And, uh, did we mention that he's hot?"
"Thanks for the update," Ryder said derisively. "Did we forget that he pretty much dumped me for some chick a decade ago and hasn't bothered to do so much as drop me a postcard in the meantime?"
"So what you're telling me is that you're willing to let a little heartbreak stand in the way of what could very well be the best thing to ever happen to you?"
"I hate you," he said flatly.
"You hate when I'm right," she corrected.
"Whatever," he answered.
"So, you're going to call him, right?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"It's your life, honey."
"Exactly."
* * * * *
He did end up calling, partly because of Carmen's advice and partly because of the letter that Hamilton had been trying to sneak into his mailbox that afternoon. It said a lot of things, mostly that he was sorry and that he'd been wrong and that he hated himself for waiting so long to say any of this. Ryder couldn't say that he was totally opposed to the idea of Hamilton hating himself just a little. It seemed like a fair trade in his opinion.
Still, there was a phone number on the letter and a request for Ryder to call some time. 'To talk,' he'd written. Maybe that was what they needed.
Hamilton picked up on the second ring, sounding as if he'd been running to catch the phone. "Hello?"
"Hamilton?"
"Ryder?"
"Yeah."
"I was hoping it would be you. I'm glad that you called."
"I thought that we should maybe talk about things," Ryder said.
"We probably should," Hamilton agreed.
"Do you have plans for dinner?"
"I do now. Where should we meet?"
Ryder thought for a second before naming a small diner about a block from his apartment. He'd rather be on his own turf for this one.
"Sounds good; how's 8 o'clock?"
"Fine, I'll see you then," he said, then hung up. He really hoped this was a good idea.
* * * * *
Hamilton was already there when Ryder arrived, even though he'd come about ten minutes early. 'Eager,' he thought when he saw him waving from a corner booth.
"I'm surprised you're here already," Ryder said as he slid into the seat across from Hamilton and shrugged out of his coat.
"I didn't want to get lost and end up being late so I left a little early. Turns out it wasn't that hard to find at all. I've been here for about five minutes." He twisted his hand around his water glass for a second, then added, "I was glad that you called. I wasn't really sure that you would."
"I almost didn't," he admitted. Hamilton didn't say anything to that. "We have to talk about this," Ryder told him.
"I didn't come there for that this afternoon," Hamilton said quickly. "I don't regret it, but I really just came to apologize."
"I didn't think you came for that," Ryder said, but the truth was that it had crossed his mind at least once that maybe Hamilton had just come by his apartment on the off-chance that Ryder would be there, for a 'booty-call' as it were. But he'd dismissed the thought almost immediately because Hamilton wouldn't have even seen him if Ryder hadn't chosen that exact moment to check his mail. Maybe it was all just chance, fate telling them both that they were stupid for not seeing what they were missing and to get the fuck on with it already. That seemed like a much more plausible explanation, really.
"You hate me, don't you?" Hamilton said quietly as he studied the cracked linoleum tabletop. Ryder wanted to say yes, that he hated Hamilton for all the pain he'd caused, for all the relationships he'd ruined for Ryder even in his absence, but the truth was that Ryder couldn't ever really hate Hamilton Fleming. He just loved him too damned much for that.
"No," he admitted. "I couldn't hate you."
Hamilton looked up, hope shining in his eyes. "Really?"
"Really."
"I was an ass. I've hated myself forever for walking away back then."
"It's over now," Ryder said.
"No, that's just it. It's not over. Obviously . . . if it were then you never would have kicked me out this afternoon. Not that I didn't deserve it, but if the past were forgotten then it wouldn't have mattered and it obviously still does."
"I can't forget what happened back then, Ham. It hurt. A lot. I won't lie and say that it didn't."
"Do you think there's anything I could ever do to make it up to you?" Hamilton asked.
"It's not about making it up to me," Ryder told him. "I'm just not sure I'm capable of trusting you like I used to. It's not a vendetta; it's just the way things are, maybe."
"I wish I could take it all back," Hamilton told him softly. "I wish I could go back and do things differently and not walk away this time. I'd take you to that stupid fucking dance and kiss you in front of everyone."
Ryder smirked at that. "That would have caused more than a few rumors, wouldn't it?"
"It wouldn't matter," Hamilton told him seriously. He reached across the table and took Ryder's hand in his. "It took me a while to realize what a big mistake I'd made, but I did realize eventually. You were the one, Ryder. Not Jake, you. It was always you."
Ryder shook his head sadly then and said, "I loved you back then, Hamilton. I never told you, but I did. I loved you for a really long time."
"I loved you, too," Hamilton told him.
"God, we're screwed up, huh?" Ryder said with a strained laugh.
"Yeah," Hamilton smiled, still holding Ryder's hand. "I suppose we are."
"I don't know what to do," Ryder admitted, his smile fading as he met Hamilton's clear gaze.
"Give me another chance," he pleaded. "Let me show you that I've changed. Please."
"I . . ." Ryder's voice cracked a little and he swallowed hard a few times, then continued. "I'm not sure that I can," he admitted.
"I can't make you," Hamilton said sadly.
"I'd be willing to try. If we took it slow, maybe, I could try to trust you again."
Hamilton's smile reached his eyes as he whispered, "That's all I can ask for."
They had dinner after that and stuck to small talk, neither talking much about the past or the future. It all seemed too fragile right then, like the glue was still drying. They needed to give it some time to strengthen before they tackled where they'd been and where they were heading.
* * * * *
"So, I get to meet him soon, right?" Carmen asked as she stole an olive from the chopping block where Ryder was preparing a salad for dinner that night. It was Saturday, just three days since he'd seen Hamilton at the coffee shop, but it seemed like a million years had passed in that time.
He swatted at Carmen's hand as she reached for another olive and answered, "Eventually."
"What time will he be here for dinner?"
"Seven. Which gives you over two hours to get out of here so there's no chance you'll get to meet him tonight, sorry Carm."
"Aww, Ryder! I just want to meet him! Five minutes . . . I promise," she said sweetly as she reached over him and snagged another olive.
"No. It's been two days and everything is still very much up in the air. I don't want him meeting my friends yet. It sends the wrong vibe. And, if you stick your hand over here one more time I swear I'll cut your fingers off."
She smirked and said, "Touchy, touchy. Okay, so what are you going to wear for this big date then, stud?"
"It's not a 'big date'," he clarified. "It's dinner. And I haven't decided."
"Something sexy, I'll bet," she said with a grin.
"It's not going to be like that tonight, Carmen," he assured her as he chopped the rest of the olives and dropped them into the salad.
"Sure, sure, okay."
"Sex does not solve problems," he told her.
"It helps, though. It'll definitely loosen you both up. In more ways than one, I suspect," she winked.
He laughed at that and said, "Pervert."
"Pervert with a date tonight, too, so I better get going." She picked her coat up off the back of one of Ryder's chairs and slid her arms into it.
"Who's the lucky victim?" he asked.
"Steve."
"The accounting guy?"
"No, that's Stan," she said.
"Who dates a guy named Stan?"
"Not me, that's why I'm going out with Steve. He's Lana's friend."
"What's he do?" Ryder asked as he walked with her towards the door.
She quirked her eyebrows and smiled, answering, "He's a model. Underwear model."
"Oh, that one," he laughed. "Well, have fun, don't get into too much trouble."
"That's completely relative, now isn't it? And same goes for you." She leaned in and kissed his lips loudly, saying, "Love you."
"Love you, too. Bye, Carm." He watched her until she got to the stairwell, then closed the door and went back to preparing dinner.
* * * * *
Hamilton arrived right on time, looking great and even bearing wine, which was thoughtful. Ryder greeted him with a smile and took the wine to the kitchen as Hamilton took off his coat.
"Dinner isn't quite ready so why don't we sit down for a few minutes," Ryder suggested and the two made their way to the couch together.
"Thanks for inviting me over," Hamilton said with a smile.
"Sure, no problem," Ryder replied.
"So . . ."
"So . . ."
"Your place is nice," Hamilton said as he looked around. "I didn't really, uh, get a very good look the other day but . . ."
"Thanks, I like it."
"We gonna do this all night?" Hamilton asked him then and Ryder turned to face him.
"Do what?"
"Dance around each other with small talk and pretend that we're strangers."
"Well, we really don't know each other that well anymore," he pointed out.
"Ryder, you know me better than anyone else on earth, even after all these years," Hamilton said matter-of-factly. "I think it's time we talked about before," he said softly.
"I was trying to wait at least until after dinner," Ryder said.
"We can."
He sighed, then got up. "I'll go take the lasagna out of the oven. We can always heat it up later." He came back moments later with two beers in his hand, giving one to Hamilton as he sat down and took a long drink from his own bottle.
"I'm sorry," Hamilton said.
"You've already said that," Ryder reminded him. "And it wasn't all your fault. I knew what I was getting into back then. I just didn't want to think that any of it could have been because of me. I wanted to blame you for everything."
"I ignored you after that day because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stay away from you if I didn't," Hamilton admitted. "I didn't know what would happen if I went back and I was really scared. I wasn't ready to face that back then."
"You stayed with Jake."
"For a while," Hamilton nodded. "I ended up breaking up with her that next summer. I even told her about what happened with you and me, eventually. She was pretty pissed at first, but she got over it after a while. We still talk occasionally, though not too often lately. She's married and has a two year old so I guess it's harder to keep in touch now." Hamilton shrugged and said, "Life goes on, I guess."
"So what about you? No relationships? No yearning to be a daddy?" Ryder asked.
"Eh, there have been a few people here and there but no one serious in a long time. As for kids, I guess I haven't gotten to that point yet. Besides, I haven't dated a woman since college so that probably has a lot to do with it."
"Are you out?" Ryder wanted to know. Before then he hadn't thought to ask.
"I guess. My parents know, most of my friends. I don't try to hide it but it's not listed on my resume either."
"I would hope not," Ryder chuckled.
"I assume that you are, too?" Hamilton asked in return.
"Since I started college, yeah," he nodded.
"Anyone serious for you?"
"The last guy was Miles and that's been totally over for at least six months. We just weren't meant to be, I guess."
"Should I be jealous?" Hamilton asked with a smirk.
"Actually, he was jealous of you, though he never really knew it. He just knew there was something that always held me back," Ryder admitted.
"I'm sorry if I screwed things up for you, I really am," Hamilton said sincerely.
"You didn't. I haven't been miserable these past ten years. I've had a good life." And it was true; he had. It wasn't like he'd cried himself to sleep every night. There had just been that little piece that was always missing somehow.
Hamilton picked absently at the label on his untouched beer. "I came here because of you," he admitted softly.
"What?"
"No, I mean, I honestly didn't plan any of this, I swear. Us running into each other, the coffee, the mailbox . . . all of that really was coincidence. But Chicago, that was me kind of . . . tracking you down. I found out that you were here. I just didn't have the balls to actually look for you once I got here."
"So, you're stalking me, that's what you're trying to say here?" Ryder said and Hamilton had to look up to make sure the smile that he heard in his voice was sincere. It was. Hamilton smiled back and shrugged.
"I guess so, yeah."
"How romantic," Ryder teased.
"If you hadn't spilled coffee on me we might have lived in the same city forever and you never would have known. And I would have been miserable forever."
"That's a pretty thought," Ryder said with a smirk. Then he added, "We'd have found each other eventually, I think."
"I didn't know that you believed in karma."
"Maybe I just started."
Hamilton smiled and nodded towards his beer. Things were going really well.
"So, lasagna?" Ryder asked as he rose from the couch and offered Hamilton his hand.
Hamilton took his hand and got up, saying, "Sounds great."
* * * * *
A week later they were having dinner together again, this time at Hamilton's loft. They'd spent the entire week together outside of work and sleep, and both felt like things were going well. Since they'd agreed to take it slow, that was what they were sticking to. Aside from a few good night kisses on one or the other of their doorsteps, they had managed pretty well.
"So, we're still on for dinner with Carmen tomorrow, right?" Hamilton asked as he ate the last of his pizza crust.
"Yeah, if you're still up for it," Ryder said from his position beside Hamilton on the sofa.
"Sure, of course. You talk about her so much, I can't wait to finally get the chance to meet her, actually."
"Good," Ryder chuckled, "because she's been bugging me nonstop for a week and if I cancel now she might try to kill me in my sleep."
Hamilton laughed, saying, "Oh, I would hope that it wouldn't come to *that*."
"You don't know Carmen," Ryder said kiddingly.
"Well, maybe you should hide out over here tonight then." He scooted across the couch, settling with his thigh pressed warmly to Ryder's and said in a hushed tone, "Just in case."
Ryder met Hamilton's eyes, reached down to fold his hand around the one that hovered near his knee, and smiled, nodding. "Yeah, just to be safe," he replied softly.
"Dance with me," Hamilton said as he stood up suddenly, his hand still entwined with Ryder's.
"Um," Ryder chuckled. "Dance?"
"Yeah, dance," he said, tugging Ryder towards the center of the room in front of the stereo. He reached over and flicked it on and soft music poured from the speakers. "Oh, great song," he said approvingly. "Come on, Ryder," he coaxed.
Ryder finally shrugged and moved closer, letting Hamilton wrap him in his arms as they moved slowly together to the beat of the song. It was some old Janet Jackson song that he vaguely recognized. He laid his head on Hamilton's shoulder, closed his eyes and listened.
So here we are alone again, didn't think it'd come to this.
And to know it all began with just a little kiss.
I've come too close to happiness to have it swept away.
Don't think I can take the pain, never fall again.
Ryder knew that feeling. Things were so close to perfect and he knew how much it would hurt if they changed and, God, he didn't think he could take that. Not again.
Kinda late in the game and my heart is in your hands.
Don't you stand there and then tell me you love me, then leave again
"I love you, Ryder," Hamilton whispered, as if on cue, and Ryder knew that he'd been listening to the words of the song, too, as he added, "I promise never to hurt you again."
He couldn't speak for a moment, just clutching at Hamilton, his head pressed to the other man's shoulder and his eyes squeezed shut. "I love you, too," he finally managed. "More than anything."
Hold me, hold me.
Don't ever let me go.
Say it just one time,
Say you love me.
God knows I do, love you, again.
By the time they made it to the bedroom, they both knew there was no turning back from this. They'd decided to take things slow this go round, but something told them both that they'd gone slow enough. They needed this; they needed each other, more than they needed to ease into this relationship.
This time, unlike the time on Ryder's stairs, the kisses started soft, eager. Hamilton kissed him like he could do it forever and be happy with just that, his hands smoothing reverently over Ryder's body as they eased down onto the bed together.
Finally Ryder pulled back, his lips swollen from kissing and his hair tangled from Hamilton's fingers, and he said, "Lie back." Hamilton met his feral gaze and nodded, obeying, as Ryder bent over him and began to slowly undress him.
Once he had his clothes off, Ryder started kissing him again, this time beginning at his jaw and working his way down. Hamilton squirmed as Ryder's lips moved down his body, his tongue barely grazing one nipple, then licking down his sternum, dipping into his navel, and stopping to press a kiss to his hipbone.
"Oh God," he hissed as Ryder kissed back up his thighs, coming so close, so close. "Yeah, oh yeah . . ."
"You're gorgeous," Ryder breathed. "So fucking beautiful."
"Ryder . . ." Hamilton pleaded, his hips rising of their own volition. "Please, Ryder . . ."
And then Ryder gave in, closing his lips over Hamilton's cock and savoring the hiss that followed from his lover. "Uhhhh, oh God, ohhhh God . . ." he moaned as Ryder took him all the way in, hands pressing his hips into the mattress as he swallowed his dick. Hamilton's hands moved to Ryder's hair, his head falling back and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to thrash with the pleasure.
He was close and Ryder knew. He sucked harder, one hand leaving Hamilton's hip to skim between his thighs. He slide one finger inside and Hamilton nearly bucked off the bed, grinding his head backwards and moaning loud. Ryder got another finger in, stroking madly as he kept up the pressure on Hamilton's cock before it was too much and Hamilton couldn't take it anymore and he exploded in Ryder's mouth. Ryder swallowed reflexively, letting his fingers slide free as he moved his mouth from Hamilton's softening cock. He moved back up the bed and lay beside a sweating and sated Hamilton, curling as close as possible and kissing his neck.
Hamilton turned, captured his lips in a slow kiss, then said in a whisper, "Make love to me." And Ryder knew that he could never say no to that.
He found what they needed in the drawer of the bedside table and soon he was ready, kissing Hamilton's perfect lips as he sank slowly inside of him. Their moans mingled inside of their open mouths as Ryder pushed all the way in, stilling for a moment to let Hamilton adjust.
"It's okay," Hamilton told him, pushing his hips up a little for emphasis. "I'm okay."
Ryder nodded and finally started to move. It was slow still, romantic and driven more by love than by the lust of their last encounter. It was perfect and beautiful and exactly the way Ryder had always known it would be. And he loved this man, too much. Loved him more than he had known possible as he sank into his body again and again. He never wanted to be anywhere else but right here, in this moment, with Hamilton. This was heaven.
Later, as they lay together, sweaty and naked and happier than either of them felt they had a right to be, Hamilton took his hand and brought it to his own lips, kissing his knuckles and saying, "I love you, Ryder. I never stopped."
Ryder smiled, leaned in to kiss Hamilton's lips and replied, "I never stopped either."
And, at last, they were happy.
---------------------------------------
The End
Author: courts
Disclaimer: Look for "Ham On Rye: The Series" on UPN this fall. No, really. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash, Hamilton/Ryder
Summary: A chance meeting brings two men together after years apart, bringing forth past mistakes and future possibilities.
Author's Note: At least partial credit for this story idea has to go to the New Radicals for their song, "Crying Like A Church on Monday" which inspired me. The lyrics that appear at the beginning of each part are from that song. Oh, and the song that they dance to in the second part is "Again" by Janet Jackson. And, lastly, thank you to Toria, a most excellent beta, without whom this story would probably still be sitting on my hard drive collecting dust.
---------------------------------------
Part 2: Present
And I'm crying like a church on Monday
Praying for these feelings to go away
So do me a favor baby
Put down your new God
And love me like Sunday again . . .
---------------------------------------
It was late. He wasn't even sure what time it was, but he knew that it was late. The windows in his office were all dark and everything was quiet, like he was the last person left in the world. A knock on his office door told him otherwise.
"Come in," Ryder called. The door opened to reveal Mitzy, his secretary.
"Mr. Forrest? Everything okay?" she asked softly in the gentle way she had. She was from Charleston, but didn't have much of an accent. Her voice just retained this slow, soothing quality that seemed to put people at ease almost immediately. Ryder had liked Mitzy from the start.
"I'm fine, Mitz, thanks," he replied with an attempt at a smile. His afternoon had mostly consisted of reflecting on the past and it hadn't put him in the best of moods.
"You've been in here all day," she said. "Did you even have lunch?" He hadn't thought about it, but now he realized that he didn't remember eating. Actually, the last thing he remembered was his conversation with Hamilton at Starbucks that morning. The rest of the day was sort of a blur. "You should go home and get some sleep," she suggested. "Everything here can wait until morning."
Glancing around his desk, Ryder knew that she was right. He wasn't getting anything done and the chances were that he wouldn't, at least not today. Maybe what he really needed was a good night's sleep to clear his head. "Yeah, you're probably right," he conceded.
"Do you think you're coming down with something?" she asked as she held out is coat for him to put it on.
"Um, I dunno. Could be," he answered. He wondered what she'd say if he told the truth. If he said that, no, he wasn't sick. He had just run into this guy he used to be in love with; a guy who had broken his heart and whom he probably still wasn't completely over. That probably wouldn't have been the most professional response, but at least it would have been honest.
"Feel better, Mr. Forrest," she said kindly as she watched him walk towards the elevators. He didn't think that would happen, but he could always hope.
* * * * *
'God, what a day,' Ryder thought as he climbed the last flight of stairs to his third floor apartment. Although he hadn't done much of anything but sit in his office all day, he found that he was completely exhausted. Apparently, reliving bad memories could take a lot out of a person. He sighed, getting his key in the door and entering his apartment.
The truth was, he'd come a long way in the last ten years. After everything with Hamilton had ended, Ryder had closed himself off, becoming the campus asshole again until that spring when he finally graduated and left Rawley behind forever. He'd gone on to college, earning his degree in advertising and landing a job with one of the top companies in Chicago. Now he was the second youngest executive in the firm, and one of the best. His work was his life and there weren't too many times when he regretted that.
Of course, he hadn't exactly led the life of a monk since he'd parted ways with Hamilton. Ryder felt like his personal life had been fulfilling, for the most part. After leaving Rawley, he had decided that he'd had enough of hiding who he was. It was at Columbia that next fall when he finally started to accept himself and to let the rest of the world do the same. By the time he graduated, Ryder was openly gay and fairly comfortable with himself. He'd had a few relationships in college, some lasting, others not, but he was always aware that he held back. He never opened himself up to another person the way that he had with Hamilton for those two months when he was eighteen. Logically he knew that this probably had a lot to do with why his relationships didn't work out, but he just couldn't seem to allow himself to become that vulnerable again. It had hurt so much that first time and he wasn't willing to relive that, even if it meant he was alone more often than not.
His last boyfriend, Miles, had been a psych major in college. Of course, by the time Ryder met him he was working at a battered women's shelter, but that didn't seem to deter Miles from psychoanalyzing his boyfriend every chance he got.
"You need to face the past so that you can move on with your future," Miles told him one day after they'd somehow gotten into yet another discussion about the 'issues' that Ryder supposedly had. They were sitting on fold out lounge chairs on the roof of Ryder's apartment building in the middle of July, sweating like pigs in order to gain a tan, and Ryder just wished that they could *not* have this conversation.
He sighed heavily and said without turning to look at Miles through his dark sunglasses, "Why must we always discuss this?"
"You're withholding," Miles accused.
"You're annoying," Ryder countered without malice. "Can we just enjoy the sun?" he suggested hopefully.
"I worry, Ryder. I worry that you're not *here* with me; that what we have isn't *going* anywhere. I mean, where do you see us a month from now? Or a year? Or ten years, even? Where are we headed together?" Miles asked.
Ryder shook his head and sighed again. "I don't know, Miles. How am I supposed to answer that? It's not like I can see the future."
"But you know what you're capable of and I have the feeling that long-term commitment doesn't make the list," his boyfriend said. He got up from his chair and moved over to Ryder's, urging him to sit up so that Miles could slide in behind him. He laid a kiss on Ryder's warm, bare shoulder and wrapped his arms around his lover's middle. "I know that someone hurt you, baby, and I just want you to let me in," he said softly, his cheek pressed against Ryder's spine.
"Easier said than done," Ryder replied as he leaned back into the touch.
"It is easy," Miles told him, his legs coming up to tangle with Ryder's and Ryder flipped over so that he was lying on top of Miles now. "You just have to want it badly enough, that's all."
"I want you pretty badly," Ryder said with a smile as he leaned in to steal a kiss.
"You're changing the subject," Miles said.
"But you're not stopping me," Ryder pointed out as he ran his hands down Miles' sides and hooked his thumbs in the swim trunks his boyfriend wore. "I think we've picked my brain apart enough for today. Let's move on to more entertaining things." He followed his words by running his tongue up Miles' neck and stopping to mouth his ear. He knew that drove Miles crazy.
"Ahh . . . you always try to distract me," he half-groaned. "Mmm, but . . . ahh . . . you could be right. Maybe we should . . . oh God . . . talk about this later . . ."
And that had been the end of talking for that day. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had sex on the roof. Or, for that matter, the last. But eventually, when good sex stopped being enough, the talking became more of an issue and Miles hadn't been willing to hang around forever. They'd parted ways nearly a year before and, though Ryder still saw him occasionally, they both knew that their future wouldn't be together.
Since Miles there really hadn't been anyone. Just a few one night things, and those were mostly when his college roommate, Carmen, decided that he'd been a recluse long enough and dragged him out to whatever club she was frequenting at the moment. Carmen meant well, but she was entirely too worried about his love life. Still, she was the only person in the world he'd even told about the whole Hamilton thing so as soon as he arrived home that evening, she was the first person he thought to call.
"It's about time you called me, you bastard," she said in lieu of hello. Ryder was sure that Carmen should never have gotten call id.
"I love you, too, princess," he chuckled.
"Yes, and you've missed me like crazy and you couldn't live without me and all that. Blah, blah, blah. I know all that, what I'm wondering is why I haven't heard from you in over a week!"
Ryder wasn't at all surprised by this response. Carmen Vargas was his very best friend. They'd met at Columbia during their freshman year in a Shakespearean literature class. She'd commented on his accent, saying that it reminded her of a guy she'd dated in high school who had fucked her over badly and that he'd do well to be a nice guy so that she wouldn't be reminded of what's-his-name every time they saw one another. Ryder had liked her immediately.
Carmen was outspoken, to say the least. Her father was from Puerto Rico and her mother from Kenosha, Wisconsin, but Carmen had grown up in the Bronx. She had six brothers and sisters and she was the middle child. 'You know about that, right?' she had asked him once. 'Middle kids are always the most screwed up. We're too young to pull rank on the older kids and too old to boss around the little ones. So I learned early on to talk my way around anything.' And it was true; Carmen could make absolutely anyone love her in a minute.
She was beautiful, but once you started talking to her, her looks seemed to take a backseat to her personality. Still, she had thick, dark hair, eyes so black that it was hard to see her pupils and flawless skin that always looked perfectly tanned. Ryder had told her many times that if he liked girls then she would be his first choice. She'd laugh, call him a queer and tell him that she felt the same way.
"I'm sorry, Carm," he told her through the phone. "Work has been crazy, Marcus quit, Tony got fired . . . I feel like I've been working for about five people lately."
"And yet it's 7 o'clock on a Wednesday night and you're sitting around shooting the shit on the telephone with little old me. So, spill Blondie. What's on your mind?"
"I saw Hamilton today," he said, not bothering to dance around the issue because he already knew that Carmen would see through him anyway.
"No shit," she breathed. "Damn, did he come to see you?"
"Actually, I ran into him at Starbucks. Spilled coffee on him and everything."
"Serves the bastard right," she muttered. "So, what did he say?"
"Not a lot," Ryder told her. "Just, you know, how ya doing and all that. We didn't talk long."
"But you've been freaked out all day," she said knowingly.
"Yeah."
"I'll be there in ten minutes," she said, then hung up without waiting for a response. He smiled to himself as he cradled the receiver. He knew that he could count on Carmen.
* * * * *
An hour later, they were sitting on the floor around his coffee table eating Chinese take-out from the cartons.
"Do you think he'll call you?" Carmen asked as she speared a shrimp with her chopstick.
"I honestly don't know," Ryder answered as he stared thoughtfully into the container of Kung Pao chicken.
"Do you want him to?"
He sighed, setting the carton aside and laying down his chopsticks. "I don't know that either! I mean, on the one hand, seeing him makes me think about all that happened and I've left all that behind now. I don't need a reminder of how much it hurt to let him go. But then I think about the way his skin tastes and the way his body feels over mine and the way his lips would curve into a smile against my neck and . . . God, Carmen, I still love him so much." He shook his head sadly and gnawed at his bottom lip.
"I know it's hard, sweetie," she said as she scooted closer and put her arm around his shoulder, Ryder's head tilting to lay against hers. "Love sucks."
"Yeah," Ryder muttered and he knew that he was going to cry again but this time he didn't care.
"Maybe seeing him again would be good, you know? I mean, we both know that you've never gotten completely over him so maybe what you need is to see him face to face again and finally resolve all the issues that you never worked out. It could be good for both of you."
"Who's to say he still has issues to resolve?" Ryder said sadly. "He never told me that he felt the same way about me that I did about him. It could have meant nothing to him."
"Not possible," Carmen said. "Anyone who was great enough for you to fall in love with them most certainly had to feel the same way about you. He was just too much of a prick back then to stop worrying about everyone else and do what he wanted."
"I love you, Carmen," Ryder said quietly as he let himself cry on her shoulder.
"I know you do," she replied as she turned to kiss his hair. "I love you, too."
* * * * *
Ryder called in sick the next day, unable to face another day of staring at his office walls and seeing Hamilton's face. Actually, it was Carmen's idea. She told him that he should take some time and think about what he wanted to do, sort through his feelings and whatnot. By ten o'clock when he was watching the third mindless talk show in a row, Ryder was beginning to regret not going to work. He flipped the television off with the remote and got up from the couch to head towards the door. He could at least check the mail. Maybe then he wouldn't be a totally pathetic creature.
He didn't bother to notice the man at the mailboxes until he was right behind him. Then he realized that the man was sticking something in *his* mailbox. 'Oh, it couldn't be . . .' he thought, his stomach twisting. Then the man turned around and, yep, it was.
"Oh, Ryder," Hamilton said in surprise. "I was, um, just leaving you a note."
"What are you doing here?" he asked accusingly. It was one thing to make small talk in Starbucks. That was a public place; he wouldn't have wanted to make a scene. But this, this was his home. Hamilton didn't have a place here.
"I . . . I just wanted . . . I'm not sure, really. I just felt like I should come," he admitted.
"You shouldn't have come here," Ryder told him.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you since yesterday," Hamilton said softly and the words only made Ryder that much more angry.
"What gives you the right?" he exploded. "You walked away, Hamilton! That means you don't get the chance to come back!"
"I'm sorry," he said, seeming unfazed by Ryder's outburst.
"You don't get to be sorry either," Ryder said, his voice lower this time but not any less menacing. "Why did you come here?"
"To say that . . . I dunno, that I'm sorry. That I was stupid. That I never meant to hurt you. I came to try and make amends, I guess." He seemed very sincere but Ryder couldn't bring himself to care.
"It's too late for sorry. And I'm over it so don't let it keep you up." He turned to go, got halfway up the stairs before Hamilton's voice stopped him.
"Maybe I'm the one who isn't over it."
Ryder quit walking but didn't turn around. He stayed still, even when he heard Hamilton's footsteps as he climbed the stairs to stand behind him. Hamilton rested his hand on Ryder's shoulder and said softly, "I never got over you, Ryder." That was the last thing and the only thing that Ryder had wanted to hear.
"Don't! Fuck, Hamilton, don't say that!" he yelled, his face crumpling as he tried desperately not to cry. "That's not fair and you know it," he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm not trying to be fair, I'm trying to be honest." He moved up to stand on the same step with Ryder, their shoulders almost touching as he whispered dangerously close to Ryder's ear, "God, I've missed you so much."
And then they were kissing and Ryder hated himself the minute he let his lips touch Hamilton's but he also couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried so he just gave in instead. They ended up sitting halfway on the stairs, making out, when they heard a door shut on the floor above and reluctantly parted.
"Upstairs," Ryder panted and Hamilton nodded, letting Ryder take his hand and lead the way as they stood together.
They practically fell on top of one another as soon as the door closed behind them and Ryder already knew that there was no going back. Not that he really wanted to at that point.
"I've missed you so much," Hamilton said as he tugged at the buttons on Ryder's jeans.
"Oh God, I've missed you. You don't even know," he replied as he pushed upwards into Hamilton's touch.
Pretty soon they were both naked . . . or at least basically naked. Hamilton's shirt hadn't made it completely off and Ryder's pants were still tangled around one of his ankles, but that didn't seem to matter as Hamilton pinned him to the floor and pushed inside of him with a strangled moan. "Ohhhh God," Ryder groaned, his head banging against the carpet loudly. He knew this was a mistake, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy it.
They moved together fluidly, Ryder's nails sinking into the soft skin of Hamilton's back as Hamilton drove into him again and again. He remembered this instantly, the feel of Hamilton's skin and the harsh, ragged sound of his breathing and the way his hips moved perfectly in time with Ryder's. They'd always been this way together, even the few other times they'd done this and even though they'd both been wholly inexperienced at the time, they'd always fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, perfect and exact.
It was almost over way too soon and Ryder always hated this part because it wasn't over yet but he knew that the end would be there any second and the dread washed over him right before the pleasure hit. He felt every cell in his body liquefy as he came loudly between them, Hamilton following right along. Then they were crumpled together on the floor just inside Ryder's living room and he knew he should regret this but he just wanted the opportunity to hold Hamilton for a while before that had to start.
He felt Hamilton's lips press high on his cheekbone just beside his ear and he closed his eyes to savor the feeling. "It's been too long," Hamilton breathed. Ryder could only nod and twine his arms tighter around Hamilton's sweat-covered body.
They eventually got up from the floor and moved into the bedroom, cleaning up a little before lying down together on Ryder's bed. He hadn't remembered Hamilton being *this* good at giving head when they were teenagers, so Ryder knew he must have had some practice since then. He tried not to feel jealous as he pushed his hips up, hitting the back of Hamilton's throat and groaning.
By mid-afternoon they'd had sex twice and fallen asleep around one another on Ryder's bed. He woke up to find Hamilton watching him and got a sickening feeling of déjà vu.
"How could it have been ten years already?" Hamilton said softly when he saw that Ryder was awake. "You look exactly the same as you did then; nothing has changed."
And that did it, because *everything* had changed. Ryder seemed to suddenly realize just what he'd allowed to happen and he sat up quickly, pulling away from Hamilton. "I can't believe this," he muttered.
"Ryder," Hamilton started and reached out for him but Ryder pulled away sharply.
"Don't. This was a mistake, Hamilton. I never should have let this happen." He picked up a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulled them on hastily. "You should go," he said without turning around.
"You don't really want--" he started.
"Yes, I do," Ryder said. "I want you to go."
"But--"
"No," he insisted. "I can't. I can't do this again, Hamilton. Just . . . go." He stood up then, walking into the living room to sit on the couch. A few minutes later, Hamilton emerged from the bedroom, pulling on his clothes. He came to sit beside Ryder, staying on the opposite end of the couch.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Hamilton said softly and Ryder wasn't sure if he meant today or ten years ago but he had a feeling it was a little of both.
"I don't want to do this, Hamilton," he said, still not meeting the other man's eyes.
"I know," Hamilton nodded. "I just . . . I wanted to apologize, I guess. For before. But . . . I'm not sorry about today, Ryder. I meant everything I said to you." Ryder didn't answer, was afraid to, afraid of what his voice might sound like if he let it loose just then. Instead, he stayed on the couch and made a point of not watching as Hamilton finally got up and headed for the door. He kept his eyes averted until the door finally closed behind Hamilton. Again.
* * * * *
"You *what*?!" Carmen shouted into the phone. "Oh my God, I can't believe it!" she screeched after he told her the whole story. He hadn't expected anything less. "I can't believe you had sex with him! So, how was it?"
"Carmen," he said warningly.
"What? I dish to you," she countered.
"It was . . . nice."
"Nice? The guy you've been in love with forever shows up at your apartment after ten years and drags you upstairs to fuck you in the foyer and you say it was 'nice'? Ryder, I hope for your sake that that is a colossal understatement."
He chuckled then amended, "Okay, so it was better than nice. It was probably the best sex I've had. Ever. You happy now?"
He could almost hear Carmen smirk as she replied, "We know you are, hot stuff."
"So, back to the issue at hand, what the hell do I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I had *sex* with *Hamilton*, Carm! Sex! Hamilton! Those two words were never supposed to go together again, remember?"
"Honey, those two words haven't been exclusive for you since you were eighteen years old," she pointed out kindly. Which was true, of course, but no one else could have said that without him getting angry. This was Carmen, though, and he wouldn't have expected less from her.
"It's just so crazy. I can't believe I let this happen."
"I can," she said. "I've seen pictures; this guy is hot. And you're nuts about him. And, uh, did we mention that he's hot?"
"Thanks for the update," Ryder said derisively. "Did we forget that he pretty much dumped me for some chick a decade ago and hasn't bothered to do so much as drop me a postcard in the meantime?"
"So what you're telling me is that you're willing to let a little heartbreak stand in the way of what could very well be the best thing to ever happen to you?"
"I hate you," he said flatly.
"You hate when I'm right," she corrected.
"Whatever," he answered.
"So, you're going to call him, right?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"It's your life, honey."
"Exactly."
* * * * *
He did end up calling, partly because of Carmen's advice and partly because of the letter that Hamilton had been trying to sneak into his mailbox that afternoon. It said a lot of things, mostly that he was sorry and that he'd been wrong and that he hated himself for waiting so long to say any of this. Ryder couldn't say that he was totally opposed to the idea of Hamilton hating himself just a little. It seemed like a fair trade in his opinion.
Still, there was a phone number on the letter and a request for Ryder to call some time. 'To talk,' he'd written. Maybe that was what they needed.
Hamilton picked up on the second ring, sounding as if he'd been running to catch the phone. "Hello?"
"Hamilton?"
"Ryder?"
"Yeah."
"I was hoping it would be you. I'm glad that you called."
"I thought that we should maybe talk about things," Ryder said.
"We probably should," Hamilton agreed.
"Do you have plans for dinner?"
"I do now. Where should we meet?"
Ryder thought for a second before naming a small diner about a block from his apartment. He'd rather be on his own turf for this one.
"Sounds good; how's 8 o'clock?"
"Fine, I'll see you then," he said, then hung up. He really hoped this was a good idea.
* * * * *
Hamilton was already there when Ryder arrived, even though he'd come about ten minutes early. 'Eager,' he thought when he saw him waving from a corner booth.
"I'm surprised you're here already," Ryder said as he slid into the seat across from Hamilton and shrugged out of his coat.
"I didn't want to get lost and end up being late so I left a little early. Turns out it wasn't that hard to find at all. I've been here for about five minutes." He twisted his hand around his water glass for a second, then added, "I was glad that you called. I wasn't really sure that you would."
"I almost didn't," he admitted. Hamilton didn't say anything to that. "We have to talk about this," Ryder told him.
"I didn't come there for that this afternoon," Hamilton said quickly. "I don't regret it, but I really just came to apologize."
"I didn't think you came for that," Ryder said, but the truth was that it had crossed his mind at least once that maybe Hamilton had just come by his apartment on the off-chance that Ryder would be there, for a 'booty-call' as it were. But he'd dismissed the thought almost immediately because Hamilton wouldn't have even seen him if Ryder hadn't chosen that exact moment to check his mail. Maybe it was all just chance, fate telling them both that they were stupid for not seeing what they were missing and to get the fuck on with it already. That seemed like a much more plausible explanation, really.
"You hate me, don't you?" Hamilton said quietly as he studied the cracked linoleum tabletop. Ryder wanted to say yes, that he hated Hamilton for all the pain he'd caused, for all the relationships he'd ruined for Ryder even in his absence, but the truth was that Ryder couldn't ever really hate Hamilton Fleming. He just loved him too damned much for that.
"No," he admitted. "I couldn't hate you."
Hamilton looked up, hope shining in his eyes. "Really?"
"Really."
"I was an ass. I've hated myself forever for walking away back then."
"It's over now," Ryder said.
"No, that's just it. It's not over. Obviously . . . if it were then you never would have kicked me out this afternoon. Not that I didn't deserve it, but if the past were forgotten then it wouldn't have mattered and it obviously still does."
"I can't forget what happened back then, Ham. It hurt. A lot. I won't lie and say that it didn't."
"Do you think there's anything I could ever do to make it up to you?" Hamilton asked.
"It's not about making it up to me," Ryder told him. "I'm just not sure I'm capable of trusting you like I used to. It's not a vendetta; it's just the way things are, maybe."
"I wish I could take it all back," Hamilton told him softly. "I wish I could go back and do things differently and not walk away this time. I'd take you to that stupid fucking dance and kiss you in front of everyone."
Ryder smirked at that. "That would have caused more than a few rumors, wouldn't it?"
"It wouldn't matter," Hamilton told him seriously. He reached across the table and took Ryder's hand in his. "It took me a while to realize what a big mistake I'd made, but I did realize eventually. You were the one, Ryder. Not Jake, you. It was always you."
Ryder shook his head sadly then and said, "I loved you back then, Hamilton. I never told you, but I did. I loved you for a really long time."
"I loved you, too," Hamilton told him.
"God, we're screwed up, huh?" Ryder said with a strained laugh.
"Yeah," Hamilton smiled, still holding Ryder's hand. "I suppose we are."
"I don't know what to do," Ryder admitted, his smile fading as he met Hamilton's clear gaze.
"Give me another chance," he pleaded. "Let me show you that I've changed. Please."
"I . . ." Ryder's voice cracked a little and he swallowed hard a few times, then continued. "I'm not sure that I can," he admitted.
"I can't make you," Hamilton said sadly.
"I'd be willing to try. If we took it slow, maybe, I could try to trust you again."
Hamilton's smile reached his eyes as he whispered, "That's all I can ask for."
They had dinner after that and stuck to small talk, neither talking much about the past or the future. It all seemed too fragile right then, like the glue was still drying. They needed to give it some time to strengthen before they tackled where they'd been and where they were heading.
* * * * *
"So, I get to meet him soon, right?" Carmen asked as she stole an olive from the chopping block where Ryder was preparing a salad for dinner that night. It was Saturday, just three days since he'd seen Hamilton at the coffee shop, but it seemed like a million years had passed in that time.
He swatted at Carmen's hand as she reached for another olive and answered, "Eventually."
"What time will he be here for dinner?"
"Seven. Which gives you over two hours to get out of here so there's no chance you'll get to meet him tonight, sorry Carm."
"Aww, Ryder! I just want to meet him! Five minutes . . . I promise," she said sweetly as she reached over him and snagged another olive.
"No. It's been two days and everything is still very much up in the air. I don't want him meeting my friends yet. It sends the wrong vibe. And, if you stick your hand over here one more time I swear I'll cut your fingers off."
She smirked and said, "Touchy, touchy. Okay, so what are you going to wear for this big date then, stud?"
"It's not a 'big date'," he clarified. "It's dinner. And I haven't decided."
"Something sexy, I'll bet," she said with a grin.
"It's not going to be like that tonight, Carmen," he assured her as he chopped the rest of the olives and dropped them into the salad.
"Sure, sure, okay."
"Sex does not solve problems," he told her.
"It helps, though. It'll definitely loosen you both up. In more ways than one, I suspect," she winked.
He laughed at that and said, "Pervert."
"Pervert with a date tonight, too, so I better get going." She picked her coat up off the back of one of Ryder's chairs and slid her arms into it.
"Who's the lucky victim?" he asked.
"Steve."
"The accounting guy?"
"No, that's Stan," she said.
"Who dates a guy named Stan?"
"Not me, that's why I'm going out with Steve. He's Lana's friend."
"What's he do?" Ryder asked as he walked with her towards the door.
She quirked her eyebrows and smiled, answering, "He's a model. Underwear model."
"Oh, that one," he laughed. "Well, have fun, don't get into too much trouble."
"That's completely relative, now isn't it? And same goes for you." She leaned in and kissed his lips loudly, saying, "Love you."
"Love you, too. Bye, Carm." He watched her until she got to the stairwell, then closed the door and went back to preparing dinner.
* * * * *
Hamilton arrived right on time, looking great and even bearing wine, which was thoughtful. Ryder greeted him with a smile and took the wine to the kitchen as Hamilton took off his coat.
"Dinner isn't quite ready so why don't we sit down for a few minutes," Ryder suggested and the two made their way to the couch together.
"Thanks for inviting me over," Hamilton said with a smile.
"Sure, no problem," Ryder replied.
"So . . ."
"So . . ."
"Your place is nice," Hamilton said as he looked around. "I didn't really, uh, get a very good look the other day but . . ."
"Thanks, I like it."
"We gonna do this all night?" Hamilton asked him then and Ryder turned to face him.
"Do what?"
"Dance around each other with small talk and pretend that we're strangers."
"Well, we really don't know each other that well anymore," he pointed out.
"Ryder, you know me better than anyone else on earth, even after all these years," Hamilton said matter-of-factly. "I think it's time we talked about before," he said softly.
"I was trying to wait at least until after dinner," Ryder said.
"We can."
He sighed, then got up. "I'll go take the lasagna out of the oven. We can always heat it up later." He came back moments later with two beers in his hand, giving one to Hamilton as he sat down and took a long drink from his own bottle.
"I'm sorry," Hamilton said.
"You've already said that," Ryder reminded him. "And it wasn't all your fault. I knew what I was getting into back then. I just didn't want to think that any of it could have been because of me. I wanted to blame you for everything."
"I ignored you after that day because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stay away from you if I didn't," Hamilton admitted. "I didn't know what would happen if I went back and I was really scared. I wasn't ready to face that back then."
"You stayed with Jake."
"For a while," Hamilton nodded. "I ended up breaking up with her that next summer. I even told her about what happened with you and me, eventually. She was pretty pissed at first, but she got over it after a while. We still talk occasionally, though not too often lately. She's married and has a two year old so I guess it's harder to keep in touch now." Hamilton shrugged and said, "Life goes on, I guess."
"So what about you? No relationships? No yearning to be a daddy?" Ryder asked.
"Eh, there have been a few people here and there but no one serious in a long time. As for kids, I guess I haven't gotten to that point yet. Besides, I haven't dated a woman since college so that probably has a lot to do with it."
"Are you out?" Ryder wanted to know. Before then he hadn't thought to ask.
"I guess. My parents know, most of my friends. I don't try to hide it but it's not listed on my resume either."
"I would hope not," Ryder chuckled.
"I assume that you are, too?" Hamilton asked in return.
"Since I started college, yeah," he nodded.
"Anyone serious for you?"
"The last guy was Miles and that's been totally over for at least six months. We just weren't meant to be, I guess."
"Should I be jealous?" Hamilton asked with a smirk.
"Actually, he was jealous of you, though he never really knew it. He just knew there was something that always held me back," Ryder admitted.
"I'm sorry if I screwed things up for you, I really am," Hamilton said sincerely.
"You didn't. I haven't been miserable these past ten years. I've had a good life." And it was true; he had. It wasn't like he'd cried himself to sleep every night. There had just been that little piece that was always missing somehow.
Hamilton picked absently at the label on his untouched beer. "I came here because of you," he admitted softly.
"What?"
"No, I mean, I honestly didn't plan any of this, I swear. Us running into each other, the coffee, the mailbox . . . all of that really was coincidence. But Chicago, that was me kind of . . . tracking you down. I found out that you were here. I just didn't have the balls to actually look for you once I got here."
"So, you're stalking me, that's what you're trying to say here?" Ryder said and Hamilton had to look up to make sure the smile that he heard in his voice was sincere. It was. Hamilton smiled back and shrugged.
"I guess so, yeah."
"How romantic," Ryder teased.
"If you hadn't spilled coffee on me we might have lived in the same city forever and you never would have known. And I would have been miserable forever."
"That's a pretty thought," Ryder said with a smirk. Then he added, "We'd have found each other eventually, I think."
"I didn't know that you believed in karma."
"Maybe I just started."
Hamilton smiled and nodded towards his beer. Things were going really well.
"So, lasagna?" Ryder asked as he rose from the couch and offered Hamilton his hand.
Hamilton took his hand and got up, saying, "Sounds great."
* * * * *
A week later they were having dinner together again, this time at Hamilton's loft. They'd spent the entire week together outside of work and sleep, and both felt like things were going well. Since they'd agreed to take it slow, that was what they were sticking to. Aside from a few good night kisses on one or the other of their doorsteps, they had managed pretty well.
"So, we're still on for dinner with Carmen tomorrow, right?" Hamilton asked as he ate the last of his pizza crust.
"Yeah, if you're still up for it," Ryder said from his position beside Hamilton on the sofa.
"Sure, of course. You talk about her so much, I can't wait to finally get the chance to meet her, actually."
"Good," Ryder chuckled, "because she's been bugging me nonstop for a week and if I cancel now she might try to kill me in my sleep."
Hamilton laughed, saying, "Oh, I would hope that it wouldn't come to *that*."
"You don't know Carmen," Ryder said kiddingly.
"Well, maybe you should hide out over here tonight then." He scooted across the couch, settling with his thigh pressed warmly to Ryder's and said in a hushed tone, "Just in case."
Ryder met Hamilton's eyes, reached down to fold his hand around the one that hovered near his knee, and smiled, nodding. "Yeah, just to be safe," he replied softly.
"Dance with me," Hamilton said as he stood up suddenly, his hand still entwined with Ryder's.
"Um," Ryder chuckled. "Dance?"
"Yeah, dance," he said, tugging Ryder towards the center of the room in front of the stereo. He reached over and flicked it on and soft music poured from the speakers. "Oh, great song," he said approvingly. "Come on, Ryder," he coaxed.
Ryder finally shrugged and moved closer, letting Hamilton wrap him in his arms as they moved slowly together to the beat of the song. It was some old Janet Jackson song that he vaguely recognized. He laid his head on Hamilton's shoulder, closed his eyes and listened.
So here we are alone again, didn't think it'd come to this.
And to know it all began with just a little kiss.
I've come too close to happiness to have it swept away.
Don't think I can take the pain, never fall again.
Ryder knew that feeling. Things were so close to perfect and he knew how much it would hurt if they changed and, God, he didn't think he could take that. Not again.
Kinda late in the game and my heart is in your hands.
Don't you stand there and then tell me you love me, then leave again
"I love you, Ryder," Hamilton whispered, as if on cue, and Ryder knew that he'd been listening to the words of the song, too, as he added, "I promise never to hurt you again."
He couldn't speak for a moment, just clutching at Hamilton, his head pressed to the other man's shoulder and his eyes squeezed shut. "I love you, too," he finally managed. "More than anything."
Hold me, hold me.
Don't ever let me go.
Say it just one time,
Say you love me.
God knows I do, love you, again.
By the time they made it to the bedroom, they both knew there was no turning back from this. They'd decided to take things slow this go round, but something told them both that they'd gone slow enough. They needed this; they needed each other, more than they needed to ease into this relationship.
This time, unlike the time on Ryder's stairs, the kisses started soft, eager. Hamilton kissed him like he could do it forever and be happy with just that, his hands smoothing reverently over Ryder's body as they eased down onto the bed together.
Finally Ryder pulled back, his lips swollen from kissing and his hair tangled from Hamilton's fingers, and he said, "Lie back." Hamilton met his feral gaze and nodded, obeying, as Ryder bent over him and began to slowly undress him.
Once he had his clothes off, Ryder started kissing him again, this time beginning at his jaw and working his way down. Hamilton squirmed as Ryder's lips moved down his body, his tongue barely grazing one nipple, then licking down his sternum, dipping into his navel, and stopping to press a kiss to his hipbone.
"Oh God," he hissed as Ryder kissed back up his thighs, coming so close, so close. "Yeah, oh yeah . . ."
"You're gorgeous," Ryder breathed. "So fucking beautiful."
"Ryder . . ." Hamilton pleaded, his hips rising of their own volition. "Please, Ryder . . ."
And then Ryder gave in, closing his lips over Hamilton's cock and savoring the hiss that followed from his lover. "Uhhhh, oh God, ohhhh God . . ." he moaned as Ryder took him all the way in, hands pressing his hips into the mattress as he swallowed his dick. Hamilton's hands moved to Ryder's hair, his head falling back and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to thrash with the pleasure.
He was close and Ryder knew. He sucked harder, one hand leaving Hamilton's hip to skim between his thighs. He slide one finger inside and Hamilton nearly bucked off the bed, grinding his head backwards and moaning loud. Ryder got another finger in, stroking madly as he kept up the pressure on Hamilton's cock before it was too much and Hamilton couldn't take it anymore and he exploded in Ryder's mouth. Ryder swallowed reflexively, letting his fingers slide free as he moved his mouth from Hamilton's softening cock. He moved back up the bed and lay beside a sweating and sated Hamilton, curling as close as possible and kissing his neck.
Hamilton turned, captured his lips in a slow kiss, then said in a whisper, "Make love to me." And Ryder knew that he could never say no to that.
He found what they needed in the drawer of the bedside table and soon he was ready, kissing Hamilton's perfect lips as he sank slowly inside of him. Their moans mingled inside of their open mouths as Ryder pushed all the way in, stilling for a moment to let Hamilton adjust.
"It's okay," Hamilton told him, pushing his hips up a little for emphasis. "I'm okay."
Ryder nodded and finally started to move. It was slow still, romantic and driven more by love than by the lust of their last encounter. It was perfect and beautiful and exactly the way Ryder had always known it would be. And he loved this man, too much. Loved him more than he had known possible as he sank into his body again and again. He never wanted to be anywhere else but right here, in this moment, with Hamilton. This was heaven.
Later, as they lay together, sweaty and naked and happier than either of them felt they had a right to be, Hamilton took his hand and brought it to his own lips, kissing his knuckles and saying, "I love you, Ryder. I never stopped."
Ryder smiled, leaned in to kiss Hamilton's lips and replied, "I never stopped either."
And, at last, they were happy.
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The End