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Brad’s going over accounts on the evening Nate’s supposed to fly in. He told Brad not to bother picking him up, when it would only be another hour driving right back. So Brad waits, trying to concentrate on why the numbers for January aren’t adding up. He's run them about eight times and no dice.
It’s raining out. Nate’ll probably be delayed.
“You’re freakin’ out,” Ray says across the room.
Brad looks up to find Ray staring at him. He rolls his eyes. “You’re mistaken.”
“Bullshit, I’m mistaken. You’re freaking out,” Ray repeats. He gets to his feet and walks over to top off Brad’s glass of Tempranillo.
Brad catches the neck of bottle and tips it back up. “I don’t need another glass, Ray.”
“Well, I got Quaaludes, if you want to try that.”
“Ray, I’m not freaking out,” he replies. But he might be. He hasn’t seen Nate for months and it was all just one brief weekend, and then Nate had go back and do crime-fighting stuff, and this was the first time he could get away and it was only for a week. It could go wrong. It could go wrong in countless ways. He could’ve met somebody, or remember Brad differently, or decide this long distance relationship is not worth it. Never mind the fact that he has talked to Nate by e-mail or phone at least once a day since he left.
Yeah, he’s definitely freaking out.
Fox rolls up onto her paws and lets out a shallow whine. Her tail starts thumping wildly. Brad walks over with his wineglass, bolting down the last dregs. “Is he here, girl?” he asks, scratching behind her ear.
She whines again and a few seconds later there’s a faint knock at the front door. Fox races out, yipping excitedly, and Ray follows her out of the room, picking up his coat and keys before throwing the front door open with a solid bang that Brad thinks might’ve shook the walls.
“Nate, my brother, so glad you’re here!” Brad hears echoing off the high ceilings. “Brad’s shitting himself in the office, so I’ll get out of your hair so that you can do naughty and hopefully soothing things to him.”
Brad lets out a sigh and hangs his head. He goes into the hall to greet Nate and to cut Ray off before he says anything else even more embarrassing, the older and more reserved Shadow at his heels. Nate is bending down in the doorway, petting Fox. Ray smiles over Nate’s head and delivers a sharp salute. He dashes out into the rain, with Nate calling goodbye after him.
Brad stares at him and Nate climbs to his feet, dusting his knees off. He’s wet from the rain, and his eyelashes drip crystal. He smiles softly and says, “It’s good to see you.”
Brad swallows. He doesn’t know how he’s going to cross the distance between them. Nate looks so preppy, he’s in highwaters and loafers, the perfect picture of an east coast boy and what are they doing? Somehow his feet get him to the door and then he’s pushing the door closed and thrusting Nate back against it.
Nate catches his mouth, sucking on his lower lip and combing his fingers over the fade at the back of Brad’s neck. Brad forgot how consuming Nate’s kisses were. He forgot how red his mouth was, how he always seemed to smell of bergamot, how perfectly they fit together. He pushes Nate harder against the door and Nate accepts it, moaning into his mouth and tightening his hand at the back of Brad’s neck.
Their mouths slide apart so that they can breathe and Brad holds him tight, running his nose along Nate’s cheekbone. He feels drunk, like he had that extra glass Ray was attempting to pour. “Hello,” he says.
Nate huffs out a short laugh, and pushes his thumb at the line of muscle running straight into his skull, massaging it. “I guess you’re happy to see me too.”