Status Update (#gaymers) (21 page)

“I’m pretty sure we were kissing at midnight,” Noah said.

“Or something.” Adrian laughed. “How about we ring in the New Year in my shower?”

“You’ve been dying to show that off, haven’t you?” Noah teased. “And someone should probably make sure the dogs haven’t destroyed your living room.”

“Someone huh?” Adrian poked him. “I’m officially boneless and brain dead. As long as no one’s puking or fighting, I’m not worrying about anything until...next year.”

“What, no New Year’s resolutions?” Noah rubbed his foot against Adrian’s. His own resolution not to worry was wavering, happy feelings being chased away by worries about what the coming year might hold for him.

“Yes. Make love to Noah as often as possible.” Adrian kissed Noah’s shoulders. “And you’re not allowed to put anything more strenuous than that on your own list, okay? Not tonight.”

“Not tonight.” Noah struggled to keep his voice as light as Adrian’s. For right now, for this one perfect New Year’s Eve, being here had to be enough.

Chapter Twenty-One

Adrian had a plan. It was such a good plan that he’d run it by both Meena and Emily while Noah walked the dogs. However, what he lacked was timing, or more precisely, opportunity. One did not simply spring grand ideas on Noah. He knew that by now. He needed the right moment. All that, however, went out the window when he found Noah perusing job listings on his phone.

“What’s that?” Adrian asked as he set Noah’s tea next to him on the night stand. The room smelled like pancakes and sex. Fitting, because they hadn’t really left the room other than to prepare food and take care of the dogs. It was the perfect, lazy New Year’s Day.

“This?” Noah held up his phone. “I’m just taking a quick look at job listings on
The Chronicle
.”

“Like professor job openings, you mean?”

“Yes.” Noah’s eyes slid away from Adrian’s. “There’s zero chance of finding something for winter term, even adjunct, but places are already taking applications for the fall.”

“Find any openings around here?” Adrian tried to keep his voice casual.

Noah groaned. “There’s one full-time opening in the whole country so far, and it’s in West Virginia. Handful of adjunct positions in other places, but nothing West Coast, unfortunately.”

“Noah?” Adrian sat next to him on the bed, sticking his coffee cup on the other night stand. “Do you
want
to stay close by me? I don’t want to presume here—”

“I said I want to make this work, and I meant it.” Noah patted Adrian’s hand which didn’t really reassure him at all. “I know your job is based here. I’m going to do my best to try to find something close. And I’ve got savings to make it the next few months while I hunt.”

“But in the fall, you could be gone?” Adrian pushed.

Noah said nothing but his expression looked like he was sitting on a chisel.

“What if there was a way for you to stay close to me, but it didn’t involve teaching?”

Noah’s face shifted from pained to sour. “The options for a liberal arts PhD aren’t exactly numerous. God, I don’t like thinking about this.” He rubbed his temples. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have opened my phone. I didn’t mean to unload all my work angst on you.”

Adrian moved to sit behind Noah and rubbed his shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for. I
want
you to tell me your worries. You don’t have to pretend to be happy when you’re not.”

“I don’t like feeling like my whole life’s unraveling.” Noah leaned into Adrian’s touch. “Other than you, of course. It feels like you’re the only thing I know for sure, though, and that makes me all agitated. Sorry. I’m not much fun—”

“Stop apologizing.” Adrian leaned in and bit his neck. “I know you’re stressed. And that’s why I’ve had an idea.”

“Oh?” Noah groaned the word as Adrian worked a knot of muscle with his thumb.

“Come work for
Space Villager
. Be our staff geoarchaeologist. We could use one.”

“Really?” Noah sounded less than convinced.

“Sure. You keep telling me what we’re getting wrong with the rocks and the conditions of artifacts and how cultures would evolve on certain planets. We’re doing our best with the lore, but I think you could help.”

“Giving you advice is a far cry from getting paid for something. I doubt your founder is going to want to spring for another employee just because some of your rock slides aren’t realistic.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. Our whole game is about being as realistic as possible, right down to the bolts used to hold structures together, how they interact with weather and weapons—we’re all about realism. And as for adding employees, that’s what stretch goals are for. Rob’s all for out-of-the-box stretch goals.”

“Staff archaeologist would definitely qualify as out there. But if you put it to the donors, I doubt they’d be interested.”

“Wrong. They all worship at the cult of Rob and
Space Villager
. He got the backers to fund an actual lawyer to mediate in-game disputes—that funded in less than thirty-six hours. The motion to add a movie-quality score funded in less than a day. We’re the number one crowd-funded project for a reason. Our fans are crazypants. Which keeps me employed and could get
you
employed too.”

“So what? You tell Rob, ‘hey I need a job for my unemployed boyfriend?’ and he makes it happen?” Noah’s voice held even more tension than his muscles. “I don’t want you asking for charity for me.”

“Actually...I mentioned the staff archaeologist idea in passing in December.” Adrian wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse. Even then Adrian had been in way too deep for Noah. “He thought it was interesting. As for the boyfriend part, the whole place is a mess of nepotism. We don’t even list job openings. It’s all who has a friend-of-a-cousin-twice-removed. Rob has half his family on payroll.”

Noah made the sitting-on-a-sharp-instrument face again. “I’d feel like I was mooching. Taking advantage of you. I can’t let you just get me a job. I need to earn one.”

“Noah.” Adrian kissed his neck, right below the ear. “I want to help you. You helped me, remember? You drove me hundreds of miles. You took me in when you could have sent me packing. Can’t I help you a little?”

* * *

Adrian’s hands were firm and his lips were soft, but it wasn’t Adrian’s voice in Noah’s ear. Instead, he kept hearing his dad.

A
real man earns his keep.

Man doesn’t need his wife to work.
A
man can take care of his family.

A
real man gets a job and keeps it
,
son.
You remember that.
There’s pride in working for the same employer your whole life.

A
real man doesn’t take charity or handouts.

His dad had been a 1950s throwback trapped in the 80s and 90s, unhappy with a changing economy and workforce. And Noah got that his dad was a relic, he really did. But it didn’t diminish the volume of his voice.

“I’m a professor,” he said weakly, unable to articulate all the noise in his head. “I’m not going to fit in with the gamer culture.”

“So you can be our professor,” Adrian said. “And in case you haven’t figured it out, we’re pretty casual. I bring my freaking dog to work. Rex goes around in slippers. Josiah works weird hours. There’s nothing to fit into. Why don’t you come to work with me tomorrow? You can meet everyone, and I’ll talk to Rob.”

“That’s kind of what I mean. I’m used to...structure.”

“I think we can handle you working nine to five and wearing tweed or whatever. What’s really holding you back?”

“I don’t want to be...kept.” It was funny. He had no issues letting Adrian run the show in bed, letting Adrian into his body and his heart. They’d made love early that morning, and welcoming Adrian inside without a condom was...well,
profound
sounded hokey, but that was exactly what it was. Profound and beautiful and he rejoiced in giving Adrian control. He trusted Adrian to take care of him. But extending that outside of the sacred space of bed felt wrong.

“Oh, baby.” Adrian leaned in, giving Noah an awkward kiss. “You think it makes you less of a man to take help finding a job? You think being a professor is the only way to prove your worth?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds silly. And actually, my being a professor made my dad really unhappy. I feel like I fought a lot to get to this point. Feels like admitting failure to give up on academia. Which I know is stupid, because I’m the one walking away. I’m the one who decided not to fight Landview.”

“Hey now. You are
not
a failure. And no one is saying you have to give up teaching forever. What if you try this for a while? Rob will probably ask you for a year’s consulting contract—that’s what he did with the lawyer who’s setting up the gamer dispute program, but if you hate it, you can always start job hunting again. And I’ll support you no matter what.”

“Giving us a month worked out pretty well in the end,” Noah said. “I’m glad I gave us that extra time.”

“So give us more time. You won’t know unless you try.”

“I guess it would be better to work this spring rather than sit around and job hunt.” Noah could do this. He could give them a real shot. He could test out a new career path. “But I’m keeping my RV. I’ll find a better RV park for me and Ulysses, but I don’t want to become totally dependent on you.”

“You won’t.” Adrian kissed him again. “And that’s reasonable. And I want you to have professional satisfaction, I really do. If you hate the job, I’m still going to love you, okay?”

“I love you too.” It was getting easier to say the words he already meant with his whole heart. And it would get easier to forge this new path too. He’d push aside the voices of his past because he’d already chosen his future. He’d chosen Adrian.

Adrian covered him with kisses. “That was a yes, right?”

“That was a yes.” Circumstances had thrown them together, but right here, right now, they got to choose each other. And Noah was going to believe in that. Believe in them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Eleven Months Later

“It feels weird to not have to worry about the dogs.” Adrian sped up to keep up with Noah’s resolute strides across the Charleston Airport. He loved how brave Noah was being, while his own chest threatened to rattle apart with nerves. Adrian had scripted entire space battles with less logistics and drama than this Thanksgiving trip to meet Noah’s family.

“I already texted the dog sitter. Twice.” Noah laughed. Ulysses had a cushy new dog bed in the corner of Adrian’s living room and Noah had a good section of Adrian’s closet. They needed more room. And a backyard for the dogs.

Noah’s RV park was only a few miles from both Adrian and work. They used Adrian’s car for grocery trips, and it hadn’t escaped Adrian’s notice that lately, they were only buying supplies for Adrian’s apartment. It had been since a late-summer road trip that they’d spent a night in the motor home.

Adrian wasn’t going to complicate this trip, but he had big plans for Christmas. He was going to ask Noah to look at condos together when all this holiday travel was behind them. Shiny new house keys would match the shiny ring Adrian wanted to give Noah. The time wasn’t right yet. But soon. They had come so far in the past year. Adrian could afford to be patient because he knew Noah wasn’t going anywhere.

He had a year full of shared dinners and brown-bag lunches and walks around the Santa Monica dog parks to look back on. And sure, it hadn’t all been perfect—Noah missed teaching, and they could both get a little cranky under deadlines at work. They escaped the city whenever they could—he couldn’t give Noah back fieldwork, but he could try to give him the solitude he craved. Somehow they made it work. Noah handled putting dinner in the Crock-Pot before they left for work. Adrian handled getting the tea kettle on while he did the dishes. Noah had more flexible hours, so he handled vet trips and errands, while Adrian paid the dog walker, since Ulysses got him and Pixel kicked out of doggie daycare. It was all good, this crazy shared life of theirs.

And that shared life meant a big meet-the-family trip. Adrian knew he was possibly even more nervous than Noah. He wanted these people to like him. Heck, he’d settle for just not offending any of them. They followed the stream of people to baggage claim. Noah stopped to check the list of baggage carousels to see which one was theirs. While he looked, Adrian caught sight of a group of dark-haired people. Thanks to Skype and social media, Adrian knew those faces. He poked Noah. Hard.

“Noah. Look.”

“They came. They
all
came.” Noah’s voice shook. Ruth and her husband Tom stood with their three kids—a bored near-teenager and the two younger kids jumping up and down. And Noah’s mother. And Noah’s mother’s friend—an older gentleman who had been showing up in lots of family photos ever since the spring.

“Uncle Noah!” The younger kids broke loose of their parents and barreled straight into Noah’s middle. He dropped to a crouch, hugging them tight.

* * *

Noah’s sinuses burned. Adrian must have sensed how close he was to tears because he put a hand on his shoulder, patted him gently. Noah had tried hard these past few weeks to put a positive spin on things for Adrian, to try to suppress his nerves. He’d
needed
to believe that things would go okay. And if they didn’t? Well, he’d survive that too.

But this show of support was totally outside his biggest hopes for the visit. He looked up and Ruth and his mother were right there behind the kids. They had all come.
For me.

“You came,” he said, voice thick. “We rented a car.”

“Now what kind of greeting would that be?” Tom said, voice booming. “Can’t have y’all flying half across the country with no one to greet you.”

Noah had been most worried about Tom. If anything, his family was even more conservative and religious than Noah’s growing up. And Tom wasn’t one for social media. He didn’t do Skype with Ruth and the kids. They had a couple of awkward phone conversations, but otherwise, Noah had been left to speculate about this moment.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” His mother was next to hug him. “Now let me get a look at you. I’ve got a nice roast in the Crock-Pot back at the house. And an upside-down cake in my other slow cooker.”

Adrian made a sound that might have been a swallowed-back laugh. “See, ba—
Noah
. You could use a second one. If you get the bigger one you’ve been eyeing, you can use your current one for desserts.”

“You still use the one I sent you to graduate school with?” His mother asked, eyes misty. She couldn’t cry. If she cried, Noah would cry for sure. The Crock-Pot was supposed to have been a wedding present for him and Sarah, he was sure of it, but his mother hadn’t said anything, had just presented it wrapped in graduation paper. They’d logged a lot of miles together, him and that Crock-Pot.

“Almost every day,” he said. Sure, he coveted the stainless steel digital timer model Adrian had shown him, but there was something about his old ceramic friend with the faded blue geese on the crock.

“Good. I can show you this slow cooker blog I’ve been following.”

“You follow a blog?”

“Mom has an iPad now,” Ruth said, leaning into to squeeze him. “She has more apps than Thomas Junior.”

“Not really,” his nephew piped up. “I’ve been telling all my friends about you, Uncle Noah.”

“Oh?” Noah tried not to freak. Telling people about his gay uncle—

“
Dude.
My uncle works for
Space Villager
. Everyone wants to meet you. You’re like...a celebrity.” Thomas Junior cut off his younger brother and slapped Noah on the back. It was getting a bit crowded up in his space.

“Should we get the luggage?” Adrian asked. Noah knew he was trying to herd people off of him. He knew even before Noah when Noah needed his space. Right when he’d reach his limit of LA and Santa Monica, Adrian would have everything all packed for a weekend camping trip. And thanks to Adrian, Noah had a corner cube, way out of the way of the espresso machine and the snack fridge and the noisy designing team pen. He was under an air-conditioning vent, but he’d take wearing sweaters in July over interruptions.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce you,” Noah said as the family finally released him. “Everyone, this is Adrian, my boyfriend.” He did it without a pause, without a stutter, without looking around to see who might be listening. He had a whole year of practice now. Last week, he’d held Adrian’s hand walking in Joslyn Park with the dogs and held hope he’d keep getting bolder.

In fact, he wouldn’t mind a little more permanent title for Adrian. Christmas was coming, and with that, even more family craziness. No way was Noah suddenly brave enough to give Adrian his real present in front of Adrian’s whole family, but they’d have New Year’s back home. And he’d ring in the New Year the same way he had the year before. By taking a leap of faith.

* * *

Entering his mother’s house also required faith. Faith that things weren’t going to be weird. Faith that he wouldn’t feel so much like an outsider as before. So much was changed about the house—new planters out front, two big rockers on the front porch. Mr. Stevens, the retired band director, joining them for dinner.
That
was certainly new. Her cooking was good as ever, and she even had gluten-free cornbread for Adrian. Her kitchen smelled like rosemary and beef with a hint of sweet pineapple—the sorts of scents he associated closely with the happy times in his otherwise turbulent childhood. The chaos that used to bother him—Ruth’s kids bickering over a video game in the living room, Tom and Mr. Stevens discussing the Panthers’ playoff chances, Ruth and his mother bustling around the kitchen—felt more manageable. Home
.
He felt home in a way he hadn’t in over fifteen years.

He glanced over at Adrian, who was playing with his mother’s sheltie. Maybe Noah felt more at home because he already had a home. Adrian had given him this peace, had enabled him to do the hard work on himself to get to this place where he could be himself and not cower.

“What?” Adrian looked up.

“Nothing,” Noah said softly. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

“Me too.” Their eyes held, and it was exactly the sort of intimate moment, the little island of calm, he’d always craved.

The guest room was Ruth’s old room, redone in lavender with a large magnolia painting on the wall. His old room was now the workout and painting room. More new stuff—his mother taking art classes at the senior center and logging miles on a fancy new exercise bike. It was just as well that she’d changed everything. As much as Adrian probably would have gotten a kick out of his rock collection and
Star Trek
posters, Noah doubted he could have handled sleeping in there.

Baby steps.

This was strange enough, Adrian hefting their suitcases onto the low chest at the foot of the bed, his mother hovering in the doorway.

“Well. Um. Goodnight.” She drummed her index finger against her lips in exactly the same cadence he did when nervous. “Ruth and the kids are coming over in the morning to watch the parade and start cooking. I know you’re on West Coast time, so we’ll try to be quiet—”

“We’ll be up.” He stooped to kiss her check.

“I got some nice breakfast teas.”

“Thanks.”

She lingered, mouth moving like she might have more to say, but she just licked her lips.

“Good night, Mrs. Walters,” Adrian called from inside the room.

“Laura, dear. You can call me Laura.” His mother gave a weak laugh. “Noah?”

“Yes?” A few more bolts shook loose of the rusty airplane, ribs aching from the rattle of his heart. Here it came—some rule or request or condition of his being here.

“I’m so happy you came. You’ll...be back, right? I’ve missed you terribly. I want you to feel welcome here. Really welcome. You seem...happy. And I’ve waited so long to be able to say that.”

“I am,” he said, throat thicker than his best hiking socks. “And yes, I’ll be back.”

“Good.” She walked away, steps slower than his last visit, a little hitch in her step he’d never noticed before.

“Are you really happy?” Adrian asked as Noah shut the door. And locked it, bless Ruth and her teenage insistence on privacy.

“Yes. I really am.” And he was—he had an interesting job that kept him on his toes, coworkers who made him laugh and who never judged him. He looked forward to going into work every day, and not surprisingly, work without the anxiety over his secrets being discovered was far more enjoyable, even if he did miss having students from time to time. Also freed from the prison he’d made for himself, his faith had returned. The tortuous relationship he’d had with God during the past decade had mellowed, and he’d found a progressive church in Santa Monica that did a lot of potlucks and hiking trips. Adrian tagged along to some of the events, and life was indeed good.

Not that life could be bad as long as he had Adrian. He watched Adrian change into new pajamas—they’d both gotten so used to going without that a trip to the store had been needed. He didn’t feel arousal at the sight of Adrian’s smooth flesh as much as pride. This was his man. His home. His future.

He quickly tugged on his own pajamas. “You check on the dogs?” he asked.

“Yes, worrywart.” Adrian laughed. “And I know you did too. Your mom’s dog is nice enough, but it made me miss ours more.”

“I know what you mean. Being here is easier than I expected, but it makes me miss our own place. Appreciate it more.”

“Our place?” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Ours. Both places are kind of ours now.”

A wide smile spread across Adrian’s face. “I feel that way too. Wasn’t sure if you did.”

“Of course I do.” He did what he’d been dying to do for hours and wrapped his arms around Adrian. Adrian, being Adrian, upped the ante, kissing him long and slow. Alone like this, wrapped in Adrian’s embrace, he felt whole, in a way he never had before. He was gradually re-forming a relationship with his family of birth, but Adrian was his family of now. His family of choice. His family of the future.

“Adrian?” he whispered, not sure why since they were alone, but this request seemed to demand hushed tones.

“Yeah, baby?” Adrian cuddled him closer, stroking Noah’s head.

“You know how you said to tell you when I have a new dream? Something I want more than I wanted tenure?”

“Of course. Whatever it is—even if it
is
tenure somewhere new. Or fieldwork. Whatever it is, I support—”

“I want to be a father.” His voice was barely audible as he voiced the dream he’d given up on so long ago. The dream that holidays and togetherness always seemed to threaten to resurrect. And now, he was finally ready to embrace it.

Adrian’s eyes went wide, but his smile didn’t droop. “
Yes.
I love that dream. I got to tell you though, I might not look like it, but I’m a pretty old-fashioned guy. I think we need to get married first.”

“Do we?” He laughed, because it didn’t matter how he looked, Adrian was
exactly
that type of old-fashioned guy.

“Yes. We do. And now I’ve totally tipped my hand for New Year’s and ruined that surprise.”

“Wait.
You
had plans for New Year’s?
I
had plans for New Year’s. Scary good ones that I was working up the courage for—”

“Really?” Adrian’s grin threatened to cleave the narrow room in two. “What if we both ask at exactly the same time, and we both say yes, and then there’s nothing scary about it.”

“What? Right now?”

“I’m not sure I can wait all the way until New Year’s. Besides, this is kind of how we roll, right? Unexpectedly awesome Thanksgiving surprises?”

“I guess it is. So how are we doing this? On three?”

“Yes.” Adrian held him tighter.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” And then they were kissing and it was several long moments before they came up for air.

“You know,” Adrian said, nipping his ear, “unless you have your heart set on some big fancy thing, we could totally still have a very special New Year’s.”