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by
Take My Hand
Touch my skin, and tell me what you're thinking Take my hand and show me where we're going Lie down next to me, look into my eyes And tell me, oh tell me what you're seeing
*****
Bobby looks fairly miserable.
I decide I should let him without any hassle, or he just may bolt. "Come on in," I say amiably, pretending the last hour never happened.
One thing I know -- I can't do anything to make him storm out of here. Because then I'd have to follow him back to his place again, and I just don't want to play musical apartments all night.
He slides his feet as he comes in. "It's nothing personal."
I smile slightly as he passes me. "What isn't? You throwing me out, insulting me, what?"
"Any of it. All of it. I'm not some misanthropic loner. You know that. I got friends, I got hobbies. I don't need you to save me, kid. I promise."
"You know what? I wasn't really trying to save you."
Bobby looks surprised at that. "No? So what was up with your trip to my home?"
I shrug and move past him to sit on my bed. "I just wanted someone to talk to."
"What?"
"I...you know. I'm sitting here night after night, alone. Just got old. Thought I'd try to break the monotony for a night."
He comes in closer, his expression softening. "You...you didn't say that."
"You didn't really give me a chance to."
He blinks. "Okay, I'm an asshole."
"Yeah, you kinda are. Should I be scared you didn't want me to see inside your apartment? Don't have any bodies of old partners in there or anything, do you?"
Bobby smiles, but it doesn't look all that sincere. "Nothing like that. It's just...my apartment. No one's been in there but me." Something about my confession of pathetic loneliness must have gotten to him. I wasn't expecting honesty tonight.
"I don't get it. You don't want anyone else in there?" That's taking paranoia a bit too far.
He shrugs. "Look, I lived in the same house for almost ten years. After I got divorced, suddenly I was in this slum apartment alone. I didn't have nobody over, 'cause that would have made it feel too permanent, you know? I guess part of me figured I'd be moving back to that house any time. Course, that didn't happen. Eventually, I dunno. It just became force of habit. Or maybe I'm just deluded into thinking that place still isn't home for me."
He laughs suddenly, bitterly. "So maybe I'm lying. Maybe I am a misanthropic loner. Maybe I'm just lonely."
There's something strange about this. His seriousness, and my seriousness. I don't know if the two of us have ever really talked to each other like this. I doubt we have. It feels like confession hour. Neither of us are acting quite like ourselves tonight. I didn't go over there with my typical careless Fawksian attitude, and he hasn't been his normal macho super secret agent self, so it doesn't feel like we have to start putting those personas on now.
Or maybe I'm reading too deep into this. I don't know.
"It's okay, Bobby," I say finally. "You're in good company."
Bobby smiles at that. "Yeah? Damn, Fawkes. I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier. I get...you know. Moody."
"You?" I laugh. "No."
"Believe it or not." He fidgets there, glancing around absently. "So...uh. You still want someone to talk to?"
"Sure. Want a drink?"
That breaks the weird stillness in the room, and I go past him towards the fridge as he wanders over to the small couch.
"Yeah. Thanks."
I grab a couple of beers and head towards the couch. "Here."
He takes the beer and holds it, looking up at me. "You ever wish things had turned out different?"
I'm surprised. By the question, for one. Because Bobby, along with everyone in that Agency, has heard more than enough gripes from me to know that I wish things were much different. But I'm also surprised that he would ask it. I never got the feeling Bobby was dissatisfied with his life. "Yeah," I say in reply. "I do. All the time."
He looks at the cold bottle in his hand thoughtfully.
And I keep talking. I'm not even sure why. "Worst part is, there's so much I wish I had done differently that now I can't say or do anything without wondering if I'm gonna regret it later. I can't say hi to someone without worrying that a week from now I'm gonna wish I'd never done that."
He smiles at that. "You really think that way?"
I nod. "Sometimes. It all kinda catches up to me. So many big things have gone wrong. I mean, what if I had just paid more attention in school? What if I'd cared a little bit more, stayed in college, decided to make something of my life? Everything would be different right now. But I didn't. Still, what if I had just been happy with some menial job? What if I'd never started breaking into houses? But I did. What if I had picked another house the day I was arrested the last time? What if I had just left that old guy to have his heart attack? What if I'd turned Kevin down? What if--"
"Enough." He waves his untouched drink at me. "Jesus. You're starting to give me a headache. You're gonna get ulcers worrying about so much, Fawkes. And here I thought you were this carefree guy."
"Oh, I am. See, sometimes I get worries about all that stuff. Then other times I just say screw it." I shrug, taking a plug of my drink. "I can't go back and change it now, so why worry? Course, they say every mistake is a learning experience. And I don't feel like I've learned much. Only thing I've gotten out of this whole deal is the certainty I'll never say yes to being someone's lab rat again."
He smiles. "So maybe that's enough."
"You think?"
"May do you good some day." He keeps regarding his bottle. "You'll get out of this. It's a sure thing. The Keeper's a smart lady. She'll figure out how to get that thing out of you. You'll get out of here. What you gotta worry about is what you're gonna do once you're free."
I smile. "The day that's my biggest problem is the day I got no more problems. You know?"
"No. Not really." He shrugs, leaning back against the couch. His eyes move from his beer to the ceiling.
He's surprisingly thoughtful tonight. It's strange. Maybe there's something bugging him. Something more than the usual, more than what I started guessing at on the phone with him earlier. "So there. I've unloaded the strange workings of my mind on you. Care to return the favor?"
He glances over. "That your subtle way of asking if something's wrong?"
"Yep."
"Nah. Nothing big."
"Huh." So I gotta pry. No big surprise there. Bobby's this strange mix of loud-mouthed and privacy-obsessed. "So you ever wish things were different?"
He takes his first drink. "Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes I wish I was still married. Sometimes I wish I'd never been married."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You're into quotes; you know who said that whole 'it's better to have loved and lost' thing?"
I think back. I'm good with quotes, but I'm not big on the over-used cliches. "Tennyson?" I guessed, and it sounded right.
"Well, whoever it was, fuck 'em. They didn't know what they were talking about." He sighs and sips his beer.
"Something bothering you, Bobby?"
"Nah. Don't mind me. Just one of my moody nights. I'll be better in the morning."
I smile faintly. "I don't mind it."
He lets out a little humph of air. "You'd be the first. Viv couldn't stand me when I got like this."
"Like what? In a bad mood? Happens to everyone."
"Not like me. This isn't that bad. I dunno, maybe it's because I'm nuts, but there are days when I wish more than anything I could just sit there and stare at my walls and not have to even look at anyone else. Which is bad when yer married, 'cause there's this person there you can't get away from."
"Huh. Maybe she just wasn't the person you should have been with."
He jerks his eyes to me, and I know suddenly that I'm walking on thin ice here. "What do you mean by that?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I guess I'm kind of a romantic. I was with Casey, but I know I didn't love her, 'cause she didn't love me. I'm holding out for some big Greek-epic love affair. One where we drive everyone around us nuts 'cause we're so in love. You know, some chick-novel-type relationship, where I tell her I love her every hour on the hour, 'cause I really want her to know. I want to meet someone I feel like that around, and then I think things'll be good. Now, I'm not saying you didn't love Viv, but in my mind, if you ever find that one person...you know...than you'll never get tired of being around them."
"Huh."
That's all he says, his defensive look fading into blankness.
"Of course," I say to break the strange mood that's falling over me. "That doesn't mean you can't have hot sweaty sex with someone you don't love. I'm not that much of a romantic."
He laughs, and I laugh. Mood broken.
"So you're a mushy guy who wants true love but who believes in casual sex?"
"Sure. Why not? Don't tell me you're more serious about sex? Mister Can't-keep-from-trying-to-get-in-the-Keeper's-pants?"
He chuckles. "That's force of habit. And no, I haven't loved most of the folks I've slept with. Love didn't matter a damn in some of the situations I've been in. Hell, didn't even matter if it was a chick or not."
I almost choke on my beer. "What?" I get out, sputtering.
He glances at me, amused. "Sometimes you gotta let out some tension, you know? And if the only person who's willing to help is another guy..." He shrugs. "Now I know you're not gonna get all straight and closed-minded on me, partner."
"No!" I sit up, surprised. "I'm the last guy to be...but you....I wouldn't have thought..."
He sighs and lets his head fall back against the couch. He laughs again, but I think it's over something going on in his head, rather than at my stupid stammering.
I settle back, completely blown away by that little revelation. Bobby Hobbes. Last person I would have thought...
"Huh," I say suddenly, a grin rising to my face.
"What?"
"So basically what we've decided here tonight is that we're too lonely people who need each other for company, who aren't above a little casual sex to relieve some tension." I'm looking to give back some of the shock he dealt me, I guess. Or else it's just a joke. Or else I'm serious. Who cares? "Whaddaya say, Bobby? Got any tension you need to get rid of?" I wag my eyebrows at him.
He turns a surprised, amused smile to me. "You offering me your body, Fawkes?"
I laugh. "You said it yourself. Partners do for each other. You ever had a partner do that?"
He meets my eyes. "First time in the Marines. Though he wasn't officially a partner. Next time, FBI. Another one, FBI, few months later. One in my brief stint working for the NSA. Once in this Agency, but that was when I first started up, before anyone had ever heard the name Kevin Fawkes. And it turned out he was just screwing me 'cause he thought I could do something for his career. Poor deluded bastard."
"Holy..." I sit up, facing him by slinging a knee up on the couch. "Are you serious?"
He nods.
"Jeez, Bobby. I didn't know you were...were such a..."
"Slut?" He grins.
I shake my head, a shocked little laugh escaping. "That's not what I was thinking."
He shrugs. "No big deal. It's kinda the truth. I never cheated on Viv. Never cheated on anyone I was serious about. But if I ain't with anyone, look out world." He flashes his cocky little smirk, the first sign of the familiar daytime Bobby Hobbes I've seen all night.
"So if that was an offer you'd have no problem taking me up on it, huh?" For some reason, once this thought enters my head, it doesn't seem to want to leave.
He studies me for a minute. He's casual, like we're talking about exchanging recipes or something. "Depends on you, Fawkes."
I sit up a little. "Depends on what?"
"Well, I got this whole casual attitude about it, but I've been around the block. You ever been with a guy before?"
I nod slowly. "Kind of. In prison."
He sits up at that, his face falling. "You were...?"
I blink, then shake my head fast. "No. Nothing like that. No big butch cell-mate. It was more what you were talking about, about how if you really need it, and it's a guy who's willing...you know. It was easier than I would have thought to...you know..."
He grins, relaxing again. "To what? Go down on another guy?"
I shrug. "Among other things."
He cracks up. "Wait a minute. My partner is a cock sucker?" He's laughing harder than I've ever seen.
His amusement doesn't offend me. For some reason it sounds like he's just happy to hear it. "What about you, Mister 'I've been around the block?'"
"Hell, yeah," he says like it doesn't even matter. "I'm pretty damned good at it. And I can't even say I don't enjoy it sometimes."
"Really?" I fidget in my seat a little bit. There's a strange feeling between my legs, and I realize that I'm actually getting a little aroused by the whole conversation.
There's something about talking to Bobby like this...something about his attitude. It makes me think it's all right to be considering keeping him here overnight, despite the fact that before today I never really thought about it.
It doesn't seem that strange, though maybe that's just his relaxed handling of the subject that's doing it to me.
He shrugs, not noticing my discomfort. "The sex is easy. Even blowing another guy's easy. It's the later that's hard. Fending off people you don't much like who think that since you slept together, you're soul mates or something. Sex is all about bodies, you know? Touching the right spot and having a little fun. It doesn't have to be about more."
"No. But...it's one thing to meet someone in a bar, boink their brains out, and know you're never gonna see them again. It's something else if you have to see them every day."
He nods at that. "Sometimes. Depends. I figure if the rules are clear beforehand, and both people are honest about it, there doesn't have to be a problem."
"So if you decided to camp out here tonight...?"
"I doubt anything would be different tomorrow, Fawkes. I'll still respect you in the morning, if that's what you're asking." He grins.
I grin back. I'm a little unnerved, and a little turned on. Mostly I'm just trying to get this new side of my partner to reconcile with the other parts of him. It's hard. "You're a complicated guy, Bobby."
"Me? Nah. I'm simple. You're just not used to people being up front about things. Tonight alone you probably learned about everything there is to learn about me."
"That you're a moody guy who sometimes hates everyone in the world but who likes sex a lot and will pretty much screw anything that moves?"
He laughs. "There ya go. That's Bobby Hobbes."
"No. It's not. But it's more about you than I knew before."
"So. Tonight wasn't a waste. I made a complete asshole out of myself, we got to know each other a little better. I had a beer. All in all, not bad."
"And not over yet." I grin, then realize what I just said and freeze.
"No?" He leans back, regarding me. "So this wasn't just a hypothetical romp in the sack we were talking about?"
I don't know. I don't know what to say. The words slipped out, but I don't want to take them back. But I don't want to be any more encouraging. This whole thing has caught me unawares. I mean, I can't think of Bobby one way and then suddenly want to sleep with him, can I?
Or is it really that simple? Is it as simple as he says it is? Just about bodies and touching and whatever, with no visible affects in the morning?
I don't know. And I'm scared to find out, in case he's wrong. Or in case he's right. Hell, I don't know.
He makes a small, thoughtful little sound. "Fawkes."
I meet his eyes, confused and uncertain and hating it.
He smiles slightly. "This doesn't have to be one of those things you regret later."
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. I think about it. I don't have to regret this later.
But...there are two roads to take here, and chances are I'll regret one or the other.
I mean, if I let Bobby win me over with this whole casual-release thing he's tempting me with, will it turn into something I regret?
If I don't take him up on it, will that be something I regret?
God, I hate thinking sometimes.
"You know, you're still young. You shouldn't be so uptight about everything."
I look to him. "What do you want to do?" I ask, needing some more input.
"The truth?" He gets quiet for a moment, thinking it over. "It doesn't have to be a big deal, Darien. It can be some one-nighter, no regrets, no mention of it later. Only problem I might have..."
"What?"
He loses the cocky attitude. It just melts away from him, turning him into the Hobbes that came into my apartment less than an hour ago. "Sometimes I get a little..."
"Moody?" I smile faintly.
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, yeah, but that's not what I mean." He shakes his head and tries again. "Sometimes I turn into one of those people I hate. If I like somebody, I want it to get serious, you know? And if we sleep together, suddenly I figure there's a chance." He meets my eyes bravely. "I don't know if I'd do that here or not. And I don't want to promise you no strings if I start getting all weird about you later and want to try it again."
I relax at that. "You mean you may want another round if tonight goes well?"
"Yeah. But...it's more than that. You saw...you heard Viv, what she was saying about me. It's not hard for me to go from sex to...obsession. I know that about myself, and I'll warn you about it. So I can't really help you, kid. If you offer it, I'll take it, and hope things go well. If you don't want it, I'll leave, no big deal. That's how it is."
Which is no help to me at all. Either we break off now and part as friends, or we go back to my bed and have a little fun, which leads to all sorts of possible futures.
Is it worth the risk? I mean, we'll be friends and partners, no matter what. But if I say no, I'll never know. If I say yes, it could get ugly.
Have I mentioned how much I hate thinking?
"Ah, don't sweat it." He stands up, moving away from the couch. He goes to the small trash can in the kitchenette and drops his empty bottle in. "It's been a strange night. Probably not the best time for big decisions. I'll see you tomorrow, huh, Fawkes? Maybe we can talk about this again some other night if you want."
I nod slowly. "Yeah. We should."
He grins.
In that grin, and in his movements towards the door, I realize he's serious.
This really isn't that big a deal to him. It isn't about romance and relationships, it isn't about angst or worrying. Or love, or anything like that. All it is is sex. A couple of guys, sleeping together 'cause they need the release and the other's willing to offer it. Just like Manny in prison.
But maybe this would turn out a little better.
"Bobby?"
He glances back, hand on the door knob.
"You ever just want to stop thinking and take a big chance?"
He grins and his hand drops. "That's the story of my life," he says in reply, coming back in towards me.
He knows, and I know, that I made my choice right there. Tonight's gonna be strange, but probably really nice.
Tomorrow's gonna be...well, if Bobby has his say, completely normal.
I guess I can live with that.
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