Endless, Forever (8 page)

“Almost three years,” Oliver said quietly.  “My father did us the favor of getting us out of there, but he hasn’t done more than supply a monthly stipend for us to live on, and if we fuck it all up, we’ve got nothing but her to go home to.”

There was a tense pause, Oliver unsure how Gabe was going to react.  With disgust?  The pity Leo was so sure Gabe would have?  Or would he find Oliver nothing more than a pathetic doormat who was so self-sacrificing, there was nothing left to give?

Without ceremony, Gabe pulled Oliver over, closing what little space there was between him.  He grabbed Oliver’s face between his palms, pressing them against his cheeks, and he pushed their foreheads together.  “You didn’t need to tell me that, Ollie.  You didn’t owe me anything.”

Oliver closed his eyes letting himself bask in the comfort of the other man for several moments.  “I think maybe it was time I told someone.  What good is it doing me sitting in my head, tormenting me?  Driving me to push the one person away who gives a shit?”

Gabe let out a low chuckle, growling a little as he wrapped one hand around the back of Oliver’s neck and tugged him in for a kiss.  “You’re a fucking
idiot
,” he mumbled against Oliver’s lips.

Unable to stop his grin, Oliver kissed back.  “I know.  I know I am.  But if you’ll forgive me and have me back…”

“Not even a question.  God knows why I like you so much, but I do.”

A warmth burst through his chest, and he wrapped his arms around Gabe’s middle, tugging him onto his lap and kissing him soundly.  “Well, I’m not going to try and change your mind, you know.  If that’s what you were looking for.”

Gabe pulled back, grinning as he shook his head.  “No.  I think I like you this way.  As fucking reckless as you are.”

Oliver nuzzled their noses together.  “Yeah.  I guess I am.”

Chapter Nine

Lying on Gabe’s bed, Oliver found himself perched between the V of his boyfriend’s legs.  He had his cheek pressed against Gabe’s right thigh while he held a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol over Gabe’s left.  He swiped it across the skin in a heart-shaped pattern, then tossed it behind him toward the bin.

His fingers hovered over Gabe’s knee, tapping out a staccato pattern as Gabe took the syringe full of his weekly testosterone, and jabbed it into the now-clean area.  Oliver winced, in spite of having been there for nearly all of Gabe’s injections over the last seven months, and he let his fingers draw a line down toward Gabe’s calf.

When the syringe was gone and Gabe had swiped up the single drop of blood, Oliver reached his face over and pressed a soft kiss against the injection site.  He turned his face up, giving his boyfriend a lazy, sweet smile which was returned, along with a hand pressed to his cheek.

“You want to go to the beach today?” Oliver asked, stretching his back into an arch.  He nuzzled against Gabe’s soft thigh, then shifted so he was sitting in the middle, his nose pressed just above Gabe’s belly button.

“I guess we could.  I’m off for the whole day, and it’s too nice out to waste it.”

“Before June Gloom hits, yeah?” Oliver said.

Gabe rolled his eyes as he pulled Oliver up for a proper kiss.  “You’re sounding like a true Californian now, you know.  Pretty soon all thoughts of tea and crumpets will have left your body.”

“That,” Oliver said, punctuating his statement with a kiss to Gabe’s lips, “will never happen.  First of all, crumpets are delicious.  And secondly, not only does California have to fight my English side—which might I remind you is responsible for colonizing half the Western world—but it also has to battle the Japanese half.  And let me tell you, we Japanese people are bloody
feisty
.”

“Even the half-English ones?” Gabe asked, and Oliver nodded, grinning and pressing several, smacking kisses along Gabe’s jaw.  “Well, at least we have enough sushi here to pacify you.”

“So rude.  What a horrid stereotype.”

“So you taking me for sushi last night was what?”

“Just me trying to help you rebel against your Kosher upbringing.  You had shrimp.”

“No,
you
had shrimp, and then you kissed me with your shrimp mouth,” Gabe said, running his fingers into Oliver’s long hair.  “I suppose you’ve corrupted me, though.  Whatever would my poor aunt say if she could see me now?”

“She’d probably call you a foul heathen, and strike your name from the Temple records.  Then give me a lot of chocolate for putting up with you.”  Oliver laughed as he kissed Gabe once more, then pulled away.  “Come on, you’ve got your new swim binder to try out, and I think your pasty cheeks could do with some sun.”

“Pasty, he says,” Gabe grumbled as he wriggled out from under Oliver’s arms.  “The English boy calls
me
pasty.”

Oliver gave him a wicked smile as he rummaged around for their beachwear.  Half his things were at Gabe’s now, and neither of them seemed to mind.  He still paid his rent on time, and checked up on his brother, and attempted to split his time wisely as his lectures were almost over, and finals were nearly upon them.  But more often than not, the couple took refuge at Gabe’s small, cozy place.

Seven months felt like a lifetime to Oliver, who was still getting used to the idea of having a boyfriend, having someone who wanted him all the time that he wanted back.  Someone who could, and was more than willing to, keep him distracted when his anxiety kicked in.  Or when his brother hit a rough patch.

But Leo was dealing with his newfound freedom from his brother’s watchful eye better than Oliver anticipated.  In seven months, there had only been three rescue calls, and none were as bad as they had been in the past.  Leo was making it to most of his classes, and was no longer dealing with the threat of expulsion from the University.  Gabe still attended their trans group, Leo still made appearances from time to time, and Oliver stopped worrying so much.

He was happy, and it was strange.  He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he stopped expecting it to happen every day.

Hopping on one foot as he attempted to untangle his swimming shorts as he put them on, Oliver fell on the bed and wriggled around as he dressed.  Gabe rolled his eyes, stripping down to nothing as he searched for his swim binder which Oliver had discovered online, and had given to him as a Hanukkah present.

“You know, Hanukkah doesn’t really do presents like this.  It’s not like…Christmas replacement,” Gabe said, but his eyes were shining with delight as he looked at it.

“Yeah well, consider it I dunno, a collection of gifts for all the holidays that do get presents I missed this year when I didn’t know you.”  Oliver then swept him up into an embrace, and kissed him softly.  “I went through great pains to get your skin color right on that website.  Like an entire hour, okay?  So appreciate me more.”

“Oh, I’ll appreciate you plenty,” Gabe warned.

And he did.

Grinning at his boyfriend now, Gabe slipped the binder over his head, adjusting it in his tall mirror before he grabbed his own black swimming shorts, and shrugged them on.  He rummaged around and found a couple of tattered, paint-covered t-shirts, and tossed one over at Oliver before shrugging his on.

“Sun screen?” Gabe asked.

Oliver reached under the bed for their wicker beach basket and threw the top open.  “Aye.  And that pasty zinc stuff you use on your nose.”

“Any water bottles left in there?”

Oliver moved around the sandcastle toys he insisted on buying their last trip to the beach, and came up with a crusty one.  “Er.  Looks a bit dodgy.  We can get more.  Besides, we’ll want sandwiches if we’re making a day of it.”

Gabe sighed, but shrugged as he went into the hall for their beach towels.  “Go make something for us to eat.  And I think there’s water in the fridge.  I want to take the bus.  There’s no way I’m putting up with Saturday parking.”

“Fine, but you’re carrying the chairs,” Oliver complained as he wandered into the kitchen.

He rummaged in the fridge and found a ripe tomato, avocados, and the vegan mayo Gabe refused to give up.  He brandished Gabe’s massive butcher’s knife, slicing the produce, then slapped together a couple of sandwiches, wrapping them in cling-wrap, and stuffed them into the beach basket.  He took a couple of waters, and a couple of unpeeled oranges along with them, and decided it would be good enough.  There were enough food vendors and restaurants along the way if they got really hungry, and mostly Oliver just wanted to enjoy the first real warm day of the season.

It was May now, but the spring rain had stayed very late, and left the beaches foggy every day before noon.  He was craving sun, and wondered then if maybe Gabe had a point.  Maybe California was washing all of the English out of his blood.  Not that he’d mind so much.  He was happier here than he had ever been in London, and erasing all traces of his mother that he could wasn’t a bad thing.

Sighing, he put on a careful smile when Gabe strolled into the room, a floppy sunhat perched on his head, and a pair of oversized sunglasses low on his large nose.  Oliver dug around, finding his obnoxiously red, heart-shaped ones, and slid them up to his brows.

“Have I ever told you,” Gabe asked, putting one hand at Oliver’s waist, “that my boyfriend is criminally attractive?”

“Mm, you might have mentioned it.  Best not tell him we’re getting up to naughty things when he’s away.”

Gabe kissed the tip of his nose and laughed.  “Better not.  He’s a mean little fucker when he gets angry.”

“Sounds dreadful.”  Oliver snickered as he grabbed the keys, then laced his fingers together with Gabe’s.  They left, locking up, and Gabe hitched the beach chairs and umbrella along his back as Oliver carried the basket handles in the crook of his elbow.

They headed for the bus stop, both of them only vaguely annoyed by the crowd, but Oliver wasn’t foolish enough to think they were the only ones who decided to enjoy the first nice day in months.  They managed to cram themselves into the first bus that came along, and Gabe pushed the button for their stop ten minutes later.

Taking huge gulps of fresh air, Oliver took a moment to glare at the retreating bus.  “Fuck the parking, I’m not doing that next time,” he grumbled.

Gabe laughed, pressing his hand to the small of Oliver’s back.  “Stop being a baby and hurry up or all the good spots will be gone.”

“It’s noon.  All the good spots are
already
gone,” Oliver countered, but he let Gabe drag him across the busy street to the tide wall.  They walked for a while, until they found the stairs, shucking their shoes and making their way around the people all trying to set up.  It wasn’t as crowded as Oliver assumed, tourist season not quite up and running yet, so most of the people were locals.

They found a decent spot near one of the Lifeguard towers, not too close to the wet sand, but not too far.  Oliver set up the chairs while Gabe got the umbrella up, the sandbags weighted, and before long, they were lounging back and being soothed by the gentle sounds of crashing waves.

“You know, I’ll hand it to California—the beaches are amazing.  I cannot
begin
to describe the horror that are the rocky, freezing British beaches.”

“And yet I’m guessing you spent too much time there anyway?” Gabe challenged.

Oliver shrugged.  “When we could get away.  We had to take what we could get.”

Rising, Gabe used the side of his sandal to flatten the sand, then spread his towel in a sunny patch, and took off his shirt.  Laying with his face at Oliver’s feet, he looked up at his boyfriend.  “If you think this is nice, you should see Hawaii.  My aunt took me when I was sixteen.  It was crowded, but my God it was beautiful.”

Oliver’s eyes twinkled behind his shades as he leaned forward.  “Sounds like a graduation trip might be in order.”

“It’s expensive,” Gabe warned.

“Well I’m loaded.  Aren’t
you
lucky?”  Oliver nudged Gabe with the side of his foot.

With a snort, Gabe rolled over and put one arm over his head, turning his face to the side.  “Fine.  Be a good boy for a whole year, and I’ll let you take me to Hawaii.  You can ply me with fruity cocktails and romantic hikes to waterfalls.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Oliver said quietly.  And the truth was, it did.

***

As the sun reached midday, the pair went for a short swim, Oliver only testing the still-chilly waters before plopping himself in the sand as Gabe braved the more frigid waves.  He came out a few minutes later, water glistening off his curls, his wide smile warming Oliver straight down to his toes.

They padded back to their umbrella, Gabe lying on his towel in the sun. Oliver sat on the sand near his boyfriend’s head, and as Gabe let the warm rays dry him, Oliver dug into the sand.

“This is nice,” Gabe said, reaching out a hand to trace along the skin of Oliver’s bare hipbone.  “We should make this a tradition.”

“Like a yearly thing?” Oliver mused.

Gabe grinned, his eyes crinkling behind his shades.  “Exactly.  One year from now.”

“In one year,” Oliver said thoughtfully, “we’ll be back on this beach, only I’ll have finished my dissertation and…and we’ll have shagged before we came out.”

Gabe snickered, rolling over to lay his head on Oliver’s thigh.  The other man hissed a little at the cold curls pressing against his skin, but he tangled his fingers in the soggy locks and massaged Gabe’s scalp a little.  “I’ll be done with school, and working a decent job and not stuck in shitty customer service,” Gabe said.  “
And
have half my top-surgery money saved.”

Oliver smiled softly, gently kneading his boyfriend’s scalp.  “More than.  Because your sweet, loving boyfriend is going to give you an incredibly impressive birthday gift of money toward the fund.”

Gabe turned onto his side, walking two, elegant fingers up and down Oliver’s calf.  “My boyfriend needs to stop spoiling me so much.”

“Well, your boyfriend has to spend his ill-earned money on something, doesn’t he?  If your boyfriend doesn’t lavish you with expensive gifts, it’ll be donated by his heinous mother to churchy causes which we know are firmly against top surgeries and other queer activities.  Which, by the way, your boyfriend finds detestable.”

Gabe looked up, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  “Does he?  Does he find it just absolutely disgusting?”

“Dreadful, even,” Oliver said, his voice dropping a bit as he shifted down a little more.  “Has your boyfriend ever told you how incredibly sexy your fingers are?”

“He has,” Gabe said, his voice going just as low as Oliver’s.  “Are you inclined to agree?”

“I
would
,” Oliver said slowly, shifting now so they were both sharing Gabe’s towel, lying face-to-face, “but your boyfriend seems like the jealous type who would not appreciate even the most attractive of English blokes chatting you up.”