Fic: No Regrets, Part 1

[unavez18]

Part 1: Out

The day had already been filled with more emotion than Eric preferred to feel in any given month. But as exhausted as he was he felt oddly light, like all of the decisions he’d made in the past twelve hours were pointing him in the direction of a future that would be much more fulfilling than he’d ever expected, and he hadn’t exactly been wallowing in the dumps before then, either.

He waited impatiently for Sam to come down from tucking Scot into bed-it was his second attempt-and realized that they probably had a lot to talk about. He wondered if he could get away with putting that off, though, as he wasn’t exactly in the mood for talking.

They didn’t really need to discuss his decision to keep Scot. He already knew how Sam would feel about it-he was pretty much an open book in terms of his emotions, even if he always put Eric’s needs in front of his own. There was no doubt whatsoever in Eric’s mind that Sam cared very deeply for Scot. He’d spent the past few months trying his best to show Scot he was loved-- waking him up every morning and getting him ready for school, staying up late to go over homework and school projects, and cooking for him and cleaning up after him as any decent parent would. He may have had his own personal adjustments to make as he was used to having things a very “particular” way, but he knew better than anyone that Billy was not father material, and his always north-pointing compass would have dictated he do something to save Scot from a life in which he was inadequately cared for. His love for Eric came first, though, and so long as Eric had made it clear he didn’t want Scot, that’s what Sam had agreed to. Now that their desires lined up, it just meant Sam could get what he had probably wanted all along.

Sam reentered their bedroom, closing the door and leaning heavily against it. “That kid did not want to go to sleep. I think maybe we let him have too much sugar. I guess we’ll have to work on that.” He smiled a tired but upbeat smile. As fatigued as he appeared, there was definitely another look in his eyes-- a look that said Eric might just be in for some fun.

They’d had far too little fun in the bedroom of late. Neither of them had felt completely comfortable being intimate with Scot in the house and no lock on the door, but they were going to have get over that now that he was staying . . . and they were going to have to get a lock. But even before Scot had arrived Eric had to admit things had been a little . . . off.   He’d chalked it up to stress; Sam’s work was often hectic as he approached either arbitration or trials, and having just switched jobs himself Eric knew he was definitely on edge. It looked like the extended dry spell was about to end, though, and Eric grudgingly had to admit he probably had Scot to thank for that. Perhaps he would tell him so one day when he was much, much older.

He approached Sam and met his lips in a soft kiss. “Busy day,” he said with a grin.

“Busy day,” Sam agreed, then kissed him back with a little more force.

Midway through the kiss Eric suddenly remembered he’d neglected to mention exactly how busy the day had been for him. “I forgot to tell you . . . I think I may have lost my job,” he mumbled against Sam’s lips, not really wanting to break the mood but needing to get it off his chest.

“What? Why?” Sam backed up several feet, apparently unwilling to let that slide.

Eric shrugged. “I just felt I needed to get back here, for Scot. Joan called me to say Billy was on his way over . . . and I kinda made a scene and walked out of a really important meeting.”

Sam looked stunned, and it took him a few seconds to get over a temporary loss for words. “You walked out? For Scot?”

Again Eric shrugged, feeling awkward under the scrutiny of Sam’s surprised eyes. “I needed to make things right with him . . . with you, too. I know I’ve been . . . difficult lately.”

A smile spread over Sam’s features and he came close again, close enough to push his hips against Eric’s so that Eric could feel the growing stiffness in his pants.

“Wow, Sam. I’m glad the possibility of my unemployment is such a turn-on to you,” Eric teased, cupping Sam’s erection gently.

Sam laughed and grabbed his wrists, pinning him up against the wall and kissing him with even more urgency than before. He wasn’t always so forceful-actually, he was rarely so-but when he was Eric knew he had struck gold along the road of their relationship. He grinned and let Sam keep him there even though he could have easily pushed away and taken control. It was nice to let Sam lead sometimes.

Sam was letting his kisses linger as he pressed rhythmically into Eric’s body in a way that ordinarily sent Eric rushing to undress so he could feel that delicious pressure against Sam’s skin. This time, though, he felt pesky words getting in the way of his bodily desires. He knew he owed it to Sam to tell him this particular fact, but he rather wished he could keep his mouth shut at the moment and just let the mood carry them to ecstasy . . . hopefully several times.

But he said it anyways. “One more thing.”

Sam ignored him, attempting to drown his words with more application of lips and tongue.

“So . . . I sorta . . . came out at that meeting,” Eric said in between kisses.

Sam’s lips slowed their movement against his. He was close enough that Eric could almost feel the beat of his heart speed up as it reverberated against his own chest. “You came out? At work?” Sam repeated, his voice quavering slightly.

“Yeah . . . well, Nula said that some people had already figured it out. I mean there were rumors back when I was playing pro . . .” he stopped short and studied Sam, who had stepped back a little.  Sam’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, and despite the fact that he was smiling, a couple of tears had slipped out along his face. “Sam . . . don’t do that,” he pleaded.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asked, the smile slipping away. A few more tears had followed the first ones.

A confusing feeling of guilt was swirling around in Eric’s stomach, burning its way up his chest like acid reflux and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” Sam reached a hand up to feel his face and seemed genuinely surprised to find moisture there.

Eric hoped that would put an end to it, but instead Sam’s breath seemed to be catching in his chest even more, and he had a sudden terrifying thought that Sam might be about to break down and sob.

“I can’t sleep!” Their door swung open abruptly and a glassy-eyed Scot stood in the threshold. “I’m so excited! I get to stay and I don’t have to move to Brazil and I get to keep all my friends . . .“ He bounced around as he spoke, his long curls swinging in and out of his eyes.

Sam turned away instantly and ducked down the hallway into the bathroom. Sighing, Eric headed towards Scot and gripped both his shoulders, steering him towards the stairs. “Let’s go, into bed,” he said, following him up.

Scot skipped to his bedroom, smiling and humming “Deck the Halls” as he went. “Eric, I’m so glad you like me now,” he said when they had arrived, perching on the end of his bed and resting his chin in his hands. “I think you and Sam will be much better Dads than Billy would.”

“Yeah, well, Sam will be, at least.” Eric laughed.

Scot rolled his eyes. “You’ll be good, just wait. You’ll see.”

Grinning at the vote of confidence, as unfounded as it may have been, Eric drew back the blankets on the bed. “Alright, under the covers,” he demanded, gesturing with his hand.

“But I can’t sleep right now!” Scot whined.

Eric took in a carefully controlled breath. “Please, Scot?”

Pursing his lips, Scot gave in.

Eric tucked the covers over him and swung around to leave, but before he’d even reached the steps he heard the rustling as Scot flipped them back again.

“Eric?”

“What?” Eric replied, giving him an undeniably exasperated sigh. He knew he was going to have to work on the whole patience thing.

“Were you and Sam kissing just now when I came in?”

It was a struggle for Eric to contain the embarrassed smile the question brought to his lips. “Scot, if you go to bed right now, we can go to the mall tomorrow and get you some more clothes.”

Scot yanked the covers over himself in a flash. “Goodnight, Eric!” he cried out.

Great parenting, Eric thought to himself. But he really needed to get back to Sam. He hoped he’d calmed down during his absence as he wanted to be able to pick back up where they’d left off earlier. He supposed he understood why Sam was surprised by his sudden reversal of a longstanding decision to be closeted at work--or anywhere else he could get away with it, for that matter--but there really was no reason to cry about it.

Sam was standing by the bed when he walked in. He had a very serious, very determined expression on his face and there was no trace of the tears that had been there earlier.

“Scot’ll stay up there now,” Eric told him. “But I may have used bribery to achieve that.”

He approached Sam hesitantly, but after a few steps forward Sam put both hands against his shoulders and pushed him hard enough to make him fall backwards against the bed. Sam’s face broke into a lustful grin before he yanked off Eric’s pants and then his own.

Oh yes, it was going to be good night.

****

Mall shopping before Christmas . . . Eric wondered what on earth he had been thinking when he’d offered such a thing to Scot just to get him to go to sleep. Although the tradeoff had been more than worth it in bed that night, it was harder to justify in the light of the masses of holiday shoppers clogging the arteries of the building they currently walked in.

Scot literally bounced and twirled in front of them, completing a strange dance as he somehow avoided colliding with the people and parcels that pushed their way past. Sam and Eric hung back, watching him with amused eyes, occasionally glancing at each other with eyebrows raised as if to say oh brother, what have we gotten ourselves into, but always coupling it with a smile that belied the fact that they were both secretly overjoyed.

Scot found his way to several more sweaters with astonishingly bright colors, accessorized (Eric was learning new words every day . . . not even Joan had “accessorized”) by various sparkling pins or glittery scarves. And Eric had to admit, Scot was going to need more winter clothing now that he was staying in Canada and not traipsing down to the tropics, so maybe the trip had been a necessary evil. It was also one of the few times the three of them had been out all together, which Eric supposed would be happening much more frequently now that they were becoming a family.

The word family sometimes struck fear into his heart, causing him to wonder if he’d made a tremendous error in pretending to be something he was never meant to be. But then again, he’d never thought he was meant to be gay, either, and giving into that had turned out more than alright for him in the end. So he’d just have set aside his fears for now and let things lead wherever they were going to go . . . and trust that Sam had more of a clue as to how to be a father than he did.

“Hey, Scot, want to go into the bookstore?” Sam asked as they walked along, gesturing to the one store that seemed to be devoid of the mad rush. Apparently books were not at the top of people’s Christmas lists this year.

Scot stopped for a moment, putting a finger to his cherry-chapstick glossed lips. “Nah, not today, Sam. I have a lot of books that I got last time that I still haven’t read yet.”

Sam looked disappointed-he surely would rather spend the rest of his time at the mall hunting through bookshelves than fighting his way through the racks of the clothing stores.

“Why don’t you go ahead and stop in,” Eric found himself telling Sam. “I’ll go on with Scot and you can meet up with us when you’re done.”

Sam gave him that same wide-eyed amused smile he always did whenever Eric did something unexpectedly nice. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll only be a few minutes . . . I’ll give you a call and see where you are when I’m done.”

The moment he ducked away Eric regretted his decision as he somehow felt safer from onlookers drawn to Scot’s neon-pink-and-green argyle sweater-vest with Sam by his side, which was unusual, because being with Sam in public still tended to make him nervous, even after all the time they’d been together. But he swallowed down the discomfort and tried his best to give Scot the attention he deserved. The rest of the world was just going to have to deal-or rather, he was just going to have to deal with the rest of the world-because Scot was a kid worth loving.

Abruptly halting his springing step that seemed to be following the rhythm of "Jingle Bells", Scot paused in front of a jewelry store. In the glass window on display was a miniature porcelain bride and groom, their heads thrown back as they held each other’s arms, frozen in mid-spin along an imaginary dance floor. Below them in a plush black box sat two golden wedding bands with diamonds along the smaller of the two.

Scot was staring intently, his eyes affixed as if he could somehow will the couple to complete their little dance with the power of thought alone. “How come you and Sam aren’t married?” he asked.

Eric licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, we’ve just never felt we needed to be,” he said. He took a few steps away, hoping that Scot would follow, but Scot held his ground.

“My mom always wanted to get married,” he said softly.

“To Billy?” Eric couldn’t stop the incredulity from lacing the statement as it left his lips. He still couldn’t fathom what Mia saw in the man.

Scot shrugged, finally turning back to him. “Nah, I don’t think to Billy in particular. I just think she wanted to find someone who’d love her enough to want to stay with her forever. You know, like you and Sam."

Eric nodded meekly, struck by Scot’s words as it sank in that Scot’s mother had never found what he took for granted most days of his life. Especially lately.

“Well, she had you, and you loved her,” he suggested, not sure if it was the right or wrong thing to say.

Scot smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah.” Then suddenly he reached out and grabbed Eric’s hand. “Come on, let’s go in!” he crowed happily, and before Eric knew it he was standing stiffly inside the store while Scot flitted about from counter to counter, pressing his fingers up against the glass as he oohed and aahed at all the sparking objects on display.

A heavy-set woman with glasses sitting on the very end of her nose looked up disapprovingly from her perch by the register, clearly bothered by Scot’s hands-on approach to viewing. Eric mouthed a quick apology before making a move to rein him in.

“Don’t get smudges on the glass,” he murmured to Scot, who glanced up and nodded away very seriously, locking his hands behind his back.

“I like that ring,” Scot said, pointing with his elbow.

“The one with all the diamonds?” Eric was not exactly surprised.

“Yeah. Isn’t it beautiful how they sparkle?”

Eric nodded and made yet another attempt to turn away and have Scot follow, but when Scot was stuck on something he did not give up that easily.

“But you and Sam like things a little more plain. I think you should go with something like that.” He pointed to another set of rings-simple white gold bands-with his finger, making sure it did not actually touch the glass.

The saleslady perked up and began to hone in on them as if she suddenly suspected there might be a commission lurking in her store.

“Those are very lovely,” she said. “Classic is always a beautiful choice, and then you’re assured they never go out of style.”

Eric stared at them. They didn’t seem all that ‘lovely’ to him. Just little bits of gold, resting on a velvet cushion. He had no idea why people seemed to attribute so much value to them.

“Yes, I think Sam would like those very much,” Scot agreed, smiling his most captivating smile at the lady who grinned back despite her earlier annoyance with him.

“Would you like for me to take them out so you can get a better look?” she asked Eric.

Before he could get the words “No thanks,” past his lips, a curious urge took of hold of him. “Sure,” he said.

Scot beamed as the woman unlocked the display and brought them out, resting them against the counter. Eric picked up the larger one in his hand and felt its weight in his palm. It felt light-much lighter than he’d thought it would feel. He slid it on his finger, and was pleasantly surprised at how that lightness translated to complete comfort. It didn’t feel cumbersome or annoying at all.

“Does she have an engagement ring already that you need to match?” The saleslady interrupted his thoughts.

Does she. It wasn’t the first time people had taken the ambiguity of Sam’s name and assigned a sex they felt most appropriate.   After all, Sam could be a gorgeous dark-haired Samantha. People who’d caught him chatting with Sam on the phone sometimes asked if Sam was his girlfriend, or wife, until Eric had learned to stop talking to Sam where others could hear.

But there was no brunette beauty waiting for him at home. There was only Sam-- his caring, compassionate Sam-- a few stores away with his nose in a book.

Scot was staring at him patiently, having accepted by now Eric’s need to keep things to himself about being “just gay.” But there was also an expectant look in his eyes, and as nervous as Eric felt he couldn’t bring himself to let Scot down. After all, what kind of role model would he be if he taught an eleven year old to lie about being himself. He’d already gotten started on the wrong foot, and he’d made a promise to himself not to go any further down that path.

“No, he doesn’t.”

The saleslady’s eyes did a little twirling dance from Eric’s face, to the ring on his finger, and then over to Scot. He could almost see her taking in Scot’s faintly red lips and newly-acquired sequined scarf, watch the wheels in her head turn as she concluded with that glance that she had a couple of gays in her store.

“Ah,” she said.

The ring that had felt so light a moment ago now seemed much heavier, and Eric frantically twisted it off, fighting the urge to run out of the tiny store as the walls were closing in on him. The woman was still standing by attentively-- a sale was sale after all, no matter what she might have thought of them-- but without another word he handed her the ring and grabbed Scot by the shoulder, pushing him out and into the freedom of the faceless masses. Once outside he felt a little better, but it still took him a few seconds to reorient himself.

“If you ever breathe one word about us going into that store to Sam, you’re dead meat,” he told Scot.

Scot nodded solemnly. “Got it,” he said, crossing his heart with his finger. “I promise, I won’t.”

They backtracked to the bookstore just as Sam walked out, a bag swinging at his side.

“Another one?” Eric teased. Sam just shrugged.

Scot led them onwards, picking up a stylish pair of boots before crying out in delight with one of his characteristic “oohs!” as they passed a Christmas decorations store.

“Oh no you don’t, we have enough decorations.” Eric waved an arm in front of Scot’s face.

“We don’t have everything,” Scot countered. “Besides, I just like to look.”

He ran inside before Eric could get in another word, leaving the reluctant adults to trail after him.

Scot was a child with apparently limitless energy, and he ran from aisle to aisle, knocking the buttons on all the little dancing Santas and smelling all of the wreaths-- although Eric was not exactly sure what it was that they were supposed to smell like.

“Ooh!” Scot announced suddenly, running at Sam and pointing at the shelf above his head. “Mistletoe!” He grabbed hold of Eric by his belt and with two hands gave him a firm shove so that he collided with Sam. “You know what you have to do when you’re under mistletoe.”

Eric instantly took a giant step backwards. “Uh . . . yeah . . . maybe you should get some of that . . . for the house.”

Throwing a hand on his hip, Scot rolled his eyes, his interest soon captured by some other bit of tinsel. Eric snuck a sideways glance at Sam to determine if he'd hurt his feelings and was strangely disturbed when he found a relatively blank and unconcerned expression on his face.

He remembered in the beginning, when they'd first started going out together, the way Sam would give him those wounded puppy dog eyes whenever he pushed away his hand or turned out of an embrace.  Sam had adjusted fairly quickly, though, and after that he’d transitioned to a few rapid blinks, a roll of the eyes, or an amused smirk. But nowadays, there was nothing . . . no reaction at all. Eric had succeeded in training Sam to keep all affection out of public view . . . to not even want to touch him in public.

And now that he’d attained that much-coveted goal, he realized it made him inexplicably sad.

****
Part 2: Leaf