"Hey, Oklahoma," Hugh drawled, after an appreciative stare. Suddenly, his day was looking a whole lot brighter. "How's it going?" James leaned against the doorjamb and yawned, scratching a smooth chest. When the first burst of morning sunlight prismed through the trees, his eyes seemed impossibly blue. "You know, you calling me that is the very definition of irony." "Never let it be said I can't appreciate irony," Hugh replied, then held out the mug. "Here, before I forget." James accepted it with a grateful sniff, then stepped aside to let Hugh step through the door, letting it bang shut behind them. "Ah, bless you. Coffee, nectar of the gods." Hugh settled himself on the broken-down sofa. Looked like it might have been tan once upon a time. Of course, it probably had springs once upon a time, too. "I know the way to your heart." "You always did," James replied, and leaned against the small counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. He eyed Hugh over the rim of his mug as he took a long sip. His hair, normally so neatly combed, was a tangled mess. It managed to look downright cute on him. "Come to welcome me back into the fold?" "Not quite," Hugh replied, and rubbed sweaty hands across his jeans. Dumb of him to be nervous after all he and James had been through. But then, this entire thing had been dumb from the start. "I want you to star with me in the film version of 'Oz'." If James was shocked by the suggestion, he managed to do a good job of hiding it. "What'd be the point? Haven't we done the gay tragic love story already?" Just like Jimmy to make a joke out of a sincere offer. But then, that was what they did best. "Seriously. We'd make a great duet." James took another sip of coffee. "Has that line ever worked for you?" "No, but hope springs eternal." "Spoken like a true romantic," James shrugged. He ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it, then scratched his chest again. Hugh's fingers itched to follow the movements. "Anyway, I've got a better idea. Why don't we star in a remake of An Affair To Remember? I think I'm done with musicals for awhile." "You playing the Deborah Kerr part?" He was proud of himself for remembering her name. "Of course." James gave Hugh a long, heated look that managed to send all of the blood in Hugh's body racing south. "You don't have the legs for her dresses." "Maybe not, but I look damn good in sequins." "I know. I saw the show five times." "And didn't stop by to say hi?" James set the mug on the counter beside him. When he looked back over at Hugh, all traces of teasing were gone. He seemed to have aged a decade. "What would I have said? The time for us to have illicit dressing room sex is long since over." "There's never a wrong time for illicit dressing room sex." "Hugh..." "Tell me your favorite opera. I don't think you've ever said," Hugh interrupted, saying the first thing that popped into his head, forestalling the inevitable. He didn't want to hear it. And he knew Jimmy didn't want to say it. James accepted the change in subject with a shake of his head. "M. Butterfly." "Depressing," Hugh frowned. "The best love stories are." It was hard to argue with that one. And Hugh didn't feel qualified to try. Love stories were more his wife's milieu, not his, especially since he kept fucking his own up. "Too bad Oliver Stone fucked up Alexander for everyone else. You'd have made a great Hephaestion." "Why can't I be Alexander and you can be Hephaestion?" James said with a knowing smirk, "You're the one that's been following me around for years." Hugh's gaze started from James' toes and traveled slowly up, lingering at thighs, groin, and that still bare chest, not missing an inch. "The view's nice." James let out a slow, ragged breath. "We agreed," he finally said. "We both agreed." "I don't think you're any happier about it than I am," Hugh said, quietly. "I love my wife." "I love my wife," Hugh shot back. "What've they got to do with it?" The look James gave him was part disbelief, part anger. "They're the reason we ended it." "I know. And then I see you again and it's like you..." Hugh paused, searched for the right words. He wasn't any good at this. Suddenly, the sofa, the trailer, the space felt too small. He got up, took a step. Turned back, retraced it. "It's...it's like you've got this...power." He couldn't look at James. "Over me. Over this." His hand rose in entreaty, then fell when James didn't move. "And it scares me." Scared the fuck out of him, actually, but Hugh wasn't the type to let fear stand in the way of something he wanted. And what he wanted was five lousy feet away. May as well have been five million. "With great power comes great responsibility," James murmured. His gaze seemed to bore into Hugh's soul. "Wrong superhero myth," Hugh smiled, and took a hesitant step forward. James didn't smile back. He crossed his arms over his chest, stilling Hugh's momentum. "We're not superheroes," James replied. "That's the whole point." Time for another change in topic before James threw him out. Hugh knew he'd never have the courage to try again. "Speaking of, you think Scott and Logan ever...?" "Maybe," James shrugged. "But I doubt if they even thought about each other if they did. Only Jean." Hugh cocked his head, studied James. "What did you think about when we were together?" "Well, I didn't think about Famke." This time, they both smiled. "We did have some damn good times, didn't we?" Hugh asked, pressing the advantage, leaning forward once again. So close... "Hugh..." "Remember that first night?" James sighed, then nodded. "Of course. How could I forget? It was all Ian's fault." "Everything is," they said in unison. "One of Ian's soirees," Hugh continued, telling the story they both knew by heart, "and there you were, playing the guitar and singing the filthiest song I'd ever heard in my entire life." James spread his hands wide and took a slight bow. "It's a gift." "What, your mouth?" Hugh asked, and made a show of dropping his gaze. James' shoulders sagged. Hugh traced the line of them with his eyes, and waited. "Why're you doing this?" "Maybe I miss you." It wasn't the whole truth, but it would do for now. "You know we're going to get caught sooner or later." Finally, the cue Hugh had been waiting for. He finally plucked up his courage, crossed the small space between them. Braced his hands on either side of James' arms and leaned in, inhaling deep, letting James' scent sink back under his skin. Nuzzled a shadowed jawline, refamiliarizing himself with a never-forgotten taste. "Yeah, but that's not going to stop either of us." James didn't move. His very stillness was surrender, and they both knew it. Their lips met a second later. There was no hesitation in the kiss, just James moaning, low and thick, as he fused his mouth to Hugh's, open and greedy. And the feel of it, warm and alive, far too alive, was like an electric shock. James kissed Hugh like it had been a lifetime, like he was starving, like he'd never get enough. And Hugh kissed him back with the same reckless greed, their lips fitting together perfectly as they both tumbled to the carpet. In this moment, Hugh felt infinite. "You know you'll never play piano with those hands, right," Hugh said with a breathless laugh as he nipped at James' throat. The joke was old, familiar, as familiar as those same hands running across his body in an assured, knowing sweep. "Maybe not, but I can play you just fine," James replied, as he always did, and drew the zipper of Hugh's jeans down. The sex was hurried, desperate, frantic, both of them clawing at unwanted clothing, clawing at each other, each kiss a brand, each mark of nails over skin a reminder. Hugh knew he'd never have better. It was why he kept coming back. Why he risked everything for these few stolen moments. Afterwards, when they were both spent, still shaking in the aftermath, tangled together, glued by sweat and come, Hugh took a deep, cleansing breath. Felt everything inside him shift back into place. Finally, he could relax. He lifted his head, smiled down at James. He didn't think he could get up if he tried. Not that he wanted to. "Same time tomorrow?" James laughed, the sound at once defeated and amused, and head-butted Hugh's shoulder. "Sure, but next time I expect breakfast."
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