Somewhere With You, Chapter Thirteen, Take Two
Somewhere With You, Chapter Thirteen, Take Two
Heath walks for a few blocks, then finds a cab. He’s not eager to go home, doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts and his failure, but he has no place else to go so that’s that.
He doesn’t expect Jake to change his mind - throwing the offer out there was just to keep the door from slamming totally shut in his face, but he’s not nursing much hope. Money’s money, something Jake doesn’t have any of right now, and that means it ought to be a no-brainer, except for how Jake turned him down cold and didn’t look even the least bit interested in reconsidering.
The fact that he’d say no to easy money without even a second’s hesitation is insulting as hell, especially considering the guys Heath’s seen him with: they’re either thirty years older than him, too fat to even see their own dicks, or they’re assholes who don’t like playing nice. Either way, Heath doesn’t get why Jake’s ok taking their money, yet a side-trip after hours is too much to ask, even for double or triple his normal fee.
Yeah, it’s definitely insulting, so by the time Heath pays off the driver, he’s decided not to think about it anymore. For whatever f’d up reason, Jake’s not willing to go the extra mile to keep Heath as a customer and he gets to make that choice. Beyond that, whatever’s going on with him is not Heath’s problem. He has his own load of crap to deal with, mainly trying to figure out how to start his life over as a gay man after living the first thirty-one-plus years as a baffled heterosexual. It’ll be harder without Jake to help him, but he’s not the first guy who’s had to figure shit out on his own. He’ll manage.
*****
Heath likes to cook. In a perfect world, he’d make dinner two or three times a week, but with his sixty-plus hour work weeks, that’s not an option. The reality is, he counts himself lucky if gets to make breakfast and lunch on the weekend, and maybe one extra dish that will stretch to a couple of lunches during the week.
As for expanding his skills, that’s not really on the agenda. His mother emails him recipes she thinks he’ll like, he saves them in a folder and that’s as far as it ever goes. He learned to make a few things back in college and he usually picks up one new dish to add to his repertoire a year. He’s reached a point where, if left to fend for himself with no access to restaurants, he wouldn’t starve but he’d probably die of culinary boredom after a couple of months.
While he was at the store he’d picked up some chicken breasts and a package of tortillas to make chicken enchiladas, one of his favorites, and even though he’s not really in the mood to cook anymore, once he gets home he heads for the kitchen. He needs some real food to soak up the booze, plus something to take his mind off the fact that he got rejected by the one person in his life who is supposed to be a sure thing.
He puts a pot of water on to boil, then tromps upstairs to change into hanging-around-the-house clothes - old grey sweatpants and a black hoodie over the t-shirt he’s been wearing all day, along with some thick socks. He clicks on the space heater in the bathroom - he likes to keep his bedroom cold for sleeping but it’s nice when the bathroom’s warm when he shuffles in to pee at three a.m., teeth chattering.
Back downstairs, he checks the weather channel and sure enough, a giant blob of pink and white is closing in on the city. The temperature’s already down to twenty-eight and dropping. The weather chic gives a grim but perky forecast of icy rain followed by snow, probably at least three inches, maybe as many as six, by sunrise. Her advice is for DC’ers to stay their asses indoors and plan on a snow day on Monday. Heath never gets real excited about time off - work is his main interest even on a good day - but tonight even more than usual the idea of staying home seems like more of a curse than anything else. Being alone used to be the norm, and even though nothing has really changed, now it’s kind of miserably awkward and Heath isn’t sure how to handle the idea of another twenty-four hours of nothing but himself and his electronics for company. And if the ice comes like they’re saying, he might not even have his electronics. That would be especially grim.
He dumps the chicken into the boiling water, shakes in a few spices, then opens up the recipe on his laptop since it’s been a while since he made it. He starts pulling ingredients out of the cabinets, stops just long enough to pour himself a glass of red wine because hell, he’s been drinking all day, why stop now? The weather lady is really getting into it, going into even more dramatic details about the upcoming storm. It’s the Snowpocalyspe for sure, they’re all doomed and there’s nothing anyone can do.
Satisfied that the end of the world is imminent, Heath flips channels till he finds a House Hunter marathon on HGTV and yeah, he’ll never admit it to anyone but he’s kind of addicted to this show. It’s cool getting to look into other people’s houses, seeing little bits and pieces of their lives, and maybe that says something huge and damning about his own life - or lack of one - but most everything says something huge and damning about his life these days so what the fuck ever.
Once he gets everything chopped and ready, Heath flops down on the sofa with his laptop and cruises around his usual spots, email and Facebook and a couple of financial sites, glancing at the TV occasionally as a new episode begins and a gay couple start poking through tiny, over-priced houses in southern California looking for their dream home. It’s sad how little you get for your money out there.
It’s even sadder how everyone seems to have someone but him. Heath flips over to ESPN. House Hunters obviously isn’t the best call for tonight.
*****
Kate calls to make sure he’s battened down and ready for the Ice Age that’s about to descend on the city and when Heath mutes the TV to take the call, he hears the tap-tap-tap of icy rain outside. While they talk he looks out the front window and shivers. The city’s full of homeless people and the shelters always run out of room when shit like this happens. He thinks about Jake, but knows he shouldn’t. Jake’s obviously got a place, probably shares with his friend Will. Right now they’re probably having a snow party with all their friends, drinking beer and eating the chili that Jake made and Heath paid for. Something else he definitely shouldn’t think about.
He’s just about to turn away from the window, already plotting an excuse to hang up because he just isn’t up for faking it with his sister and she’s worse than Anne once she figures out he’s not happy, when he sees somebody coming down the sidewalk. They’re not dressed for the weather at all, short jacket, no scarf or umbrella, and it takes Heath a few bleary seconds for his semi-drunk brain to catch up with who it is he’s watching. It’s Jake, head down and arms snaked around himself, walking slowly and carefully, and Heath immediately wonders if it’s because the sidewalks are already slick or because he’s sore from earlier. Maybe his mouth wasn’t the only thing that asshole got rough with.
He interrupts his sister mid-stream with “Kate, sorry but I gotta go.”
“What’s up? Are you sure you’re ok? You’ve been acting weird the whole time we’ve been talking.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tipsy - had a buncha beers at Ethan’s. I think I’m gonna go to bed early.”
“Awww… you’ll miss all the pretty snow.”
He tries to laugh but probably fails. Jake’s turning up his sidewalk. He almost falls, catches himself at the last second on the low concrete wall along the walk.
“That’s ok. It’s not like I’ll never get another chance.” She hmms and he can tell she’s not gonna hang up till he does. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you. Bye.” He clicks end without giving her a chance to say more, drops his phone on the dining room table and yanks the door open just in time for Jake to stumble inside.
“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you take a cab?” Heath gasps as he draws Jake into the house and slams the door behind him. Jake’s knit cap is covered in little ice pellets and Heath pulls it off and drops it on the floor. His jeans are wet down one side where he must’ve fallen at some point and his nose is redder than Rudolph’s.
“Not any,” Jake mumbles, teeth chattering. His hands are like ice all the way through Heath’s sleeves where he’s hanging on, probably to keep from falling. “Nobody’s driving anywhere. Whole damn city is shut down.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Heath cups Jake’s cold hands in his, rubbing them, trying to warm them. “Where are your gloves?”
“I dunno. I lost them last night.” Jake’s gasping and shivering and Heath figures a lecture is the last thing he needs. Warmth is the first.
“Come on, let’s get you warmed up,” he says, pulling Jake towards the stairs. It’s warmer downstairs, but the heater’s on in the bathroom and there are dry clothes up there. “Can you handle the stairs?”
“Yeah.” Jake nods, but his eyes are dropping and he doesn’t look confident, so Heath wraps an arm around his waist to make sure he doesn’t fall. The stairs are narrow and their bodies are jammed together and by the time they make it to the top Heath’s starting to shiver just from being pressed so tight against so much wet coldness.
“Jesus, Jake…I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody this cold before!”
“Got lost, goddamn neighborhoods all look alike. Went ten blocks the wrong way before I figured it out. Thought about just curling up and dying out there. Don’t blame people for giving up in blizzards anymore.”
Heath shudders at the image of Jake as an ice-covered pile next to some garbage cans. “Don't even joke about that right now,” he says, half-dragging him through the frigid bedroom and into the bathroom. Heath props him up against the counter and goes straight to the shower to turn on the water. “It’s a steam shower. One of the main reasons I bought this place. It’ll get you thawed out in no time.”
Jake doesn’t answer and when Heath turns back to him, he’s hunched over, arms wrapped around himself again, teeth chattering. “Come on. Let’s get you outta those wet clothes.” Jake doesn’t move at first and Heath keeps talking, trying to keep him in the moment. “Seriously, man… you made it this far. Don’t give up on me now.” He peels Jake’s arms away and finds the zipper on his jacket. Jake doesn’t help but he doesn’t fight him either, just stands there barely lucid while Heath talks nonsense and works on getting him undressed.
Heath tosses the jacket on the floor by the door, then squats down in front of Jake. “Lift your foot.”
Jake does and he pulls the boot off and the wet sock beneath it. “Again,” he orders and they do it again. Jake’s feet are pale and deathly cold and Heath rubs his hands over the top of them, can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t found his house when he did. How much longer would he have kept looking before he just gave up?
When he stands up, Heath can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Jake and hugging him tight, shivering too for totally different reasons. “Where’s your phone?”
Jake huffs into his neck, and at least his breath is warm, which gives Heath hope. “I dunno. Maybe my coat.”
“OK. I’m putting my number in it, ok? Do not let this fucking shit happen ever again!” Jake doesn’t answer, just hmmms into Heath’s skin and Heath grabs him by the shoulders and gives him a shake. “I’m serious. If you get in trouble, fucking call me!”
Jake frowns at him, mumbles, “Chill out… Jesus. Can take care of myself. Been doin’ it for years.” A chill wracks him and when it passes, it seems to take the attitude with it. “Fuck, it’s cold.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Heath looks over Jake’s shoulder, sees steam fogging the mirror. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower. You’ll warm up in there in no time.”
They get Jake naked and Heath takes a second to look, taking in all the pale skin covered in swirls of fine dark hair, nipples tight brown pebbles on his chest. It isn’t the time for sight-seeing but his body doesn’t care so he cuts the tour short before his eyes drift too far south, because then he might not be able to stop. “You gonna be ok in there on your own?” he asks as he opens the door for Jake to go in.
“Uhh… yeah. Been taking showers by myself for twenty years. Think I got it figured out.”
“Yeah, smart ass, and you can barely stand up, so excuse me for being concerned. I’ll get you some dry clothes to put on when you get out. If you fall, I’m gonna be pissed.” He gets an eyeroll for his trouble, which doesn’t mean much but it does make him feel a little better about leaving Jake alone. At least he’s starting to fight back.
In the bedroom, Heath clicks on the lamp by the bed, then heads for the chest of drawers. He and Jake are about the same size, close enough that he doesn’t worry much about what will fit. He just wants something warm and comfortable. He pulls out a pair of fleecy grey and black plaid sleep pants his mom gave him for Christmas, a t-shirt and a black sweatshirt with a big brown moose on the front that he got a couple of years ago in Vermont.
Socks are easy but underwear is a huge problem. If he doesn’t offer any, that’ll look weird, even though he’s never seen Jake wearing it. He guesses that’s probably just his work look, and although technically Jake is there for work, still, he’s frozen and pitiful, so sex isn’t at the top of Heath’s priority list. Boxer briefs seem too personal, with how they’re so tight-fitting, getting all up in a guy’s business. All his regular boxers are too old to lend out except for a couple of pairs that he’s never worn - one that’s covered with dollar signs, a major no in this particular situation, and another pair that has sparkly arrows pointing to the crotch, along with “It’s not gonna suck itself!” in big red letters. Another definite no.
He finally digs a brand new package of tighty-whities out of the back of the drawer and rips out a pair. Probably not Jake’s usual style - his either - but at least they’re not covered in another person’s ass cooties and that has to count for something. Not that Heath wouldn’t absolutely love to dirty Jake up with ass cooties and dick cooties and any other cooties he might have, but it seems kinda inappropriate to be thinking about that when the guy’s still partially frozen and thawing out in his shower.
The water’s still running when Heath lets himself back in the bathroom and the smell of his body wash is heavy on the air. The little caveman that has suddenly taken up residence in Heath’s brain likes it that Jake is covered in his scent - the cooties will definitely get smeared on later - and Heath rolls his eyes at himself and what a sexfreak he’s become.
“Clothes are on the toilet seat. Take your time.”
“‘k. Thanks. Where’re you going?”
“Downstairs. Come on down whenever you’re ready. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Jake doesn’t answer for a few seconds, and his “Yeah, sure… ok,” when it comes, sounds uncertain. Maybe he was expecting to go straight to bed as soon as he got out of the shower, and yeah, there’s a part of Heath that could totally go for that, but another part of him wants to take a minute to breathe and figure out what’s going on. Not more than three hours ago, Jake was saying no way to this kind of hook-up, and Heath was convinced that he meant it. To totally change his mind and show up half frozen such a short time later raises a bunch of questions in Heath’s head and for once he’d like some answers.
But there’s also the part of him that’s jumping for joy that Jake showed up at all and doesn’t care why, just so long as it gives him another chance to be with him. Other than that one mostly-awkward time at Christmas, he hasn’t had the opportunity to do anything more than place his order and then hold on for the ride, and that’s not been nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped.
Tonight Jake’s here, they’re trapped for at least the next twelve hours, probably more if the weather people have even half a clue what they’re talking about, and Heath’s determined to take advantage of the situation. They’ll get to bed eventually, but for once there’s no hurry. He’s got food ready to go in the oven and beer in the fridge and hours of time with nobody but them. If the whole thing turns out to be a bust except for the sex, he’ll deal with that then, but for now, he’s going to take it slow and do the one thing Jake says he doesn’t want to do: play pretend boyfriends.
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