Unrequited

  deep in thought.

  Vic licked his lips, tasting the salt again, and he held his

  breath, waiting for something. Anything.

  As Vic watched him, Shane raised his head and took a

  deep breath. Vic continued to stare at him intently as he

  turned around and finally met Vic’s eyes.

  He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. Vic

  almost leapt out of his skin when the metallic tingling of one of

  their cell phones broke the tense silence. It was Vic’s phone,

  but he stood there staring at Shane, waiting for him to speak

  instead of going to answer it.

  “You should get that,” Shane said softly as he turned to

  reach beneath the sink and retrieve a dish towel.

  Vic stood stock-still for several more moments, listening to

  the phone ring and wishing to God that Shane would say

  something else.

  “Might be important, Vic,” the other man finally added as

  he came back around the counter with two rags to clean up the

  spilled beer.

  Vic nodded wordlessly and walked dazedly into the

  bedroom to find his phone, giving Shane one last look over his

  shoulder. He rarely used the phone for personal business and

  not many people outside the firm had the number, so when

  Shane said that it might be important he was probably right.

  It had better be important, to have interrupted what Shane

  was about to say.

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  When Vic got off the phone with his secretary and came back

  out into the main room, Shane was nowhere to be found. The

  beer spill had been cleaned up and the towels were now lying

  in a little pile on the counter. The sliding door that led outside

  was closed, and so was the door to the other bedroom.

  “Shane?” Vic called softly, almost afraid to find the other

  man. He had barely been able to concentrate on what Sophia

  was saying to him he had been so distracted with worry over

  what effect his and Shane’s reckless actions were going to have

  on their friendship. The rest of their relaxing vacation might

  just be shot to shit.

  Unless they could clear the air and get a lot of beer into

  both their systems very quickly. Or proceed along the path

  they’d set out. Vic wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

  “Shane?” he called again.

  He knocked lightly on the bedroom door, not able to

  remember whether it had been opened or closed before. When

  he got no answer, he opened the door carefully to peer inside.

  The room was empty, and Vic pulled the door closed again

  before going to stand in front of the glass door. Shane sat out

  there in one of the large wooden chairs, unmoving as he sat

  with a beer in his hand, staring out at the dark water of the

  eerily calm ocean.

  Vic slid the door open and was met with the sound of the

  waves and the scent of the sea and the blast of heat off the

  sand as he stepped onto the deck. His eyes never left Shane as

  he slid the door closed behind him and walked forward slowly.

  How did one go about doing this anyway? Perhaps it would

  be easier if Vic had ever had any inkling that Shane was

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  attracted to him. Yes, that might have made it easier, if he had

  known that their relationship had the possibility to turn this

  way. He’d been completely unprepared for this, completely

  unlike when the situation with Owen had formed.

  Vic realized with a little jolt as he came up behind Shane

  that that was the first time Owen had crossed his mind as

  anything but a fond memory since early that morning, when

  Shane’s words had brought the younger man to mind.

  “No one in his right mind would leave someone like you

  alone when you needed him,” Shane had said.

  Looking back on it, it sounded quite a lot like something

  Vic would have said to Owen, straddling the line between

  friendship and love. Was that how Shane felt about him?

  How many signs similar to that could Vic have possibly

  missed while lost in his own lovesick haze?

  “You okay?” Vic asked softly as he stood beside Shane’s

  chair and put his hands on his hips, looking out at the ocean

  rather than down at his friend.

  “I’m a bit of a bastard, aren’t I?” Shane said with a finality

  that told Vic he’d come to that conclusion some time ago.

  “Why do you say that?” Vic asked, his tone certainly more

  calm than he felt.

  “I know you love him, Vic. And still I….” He pressed his

  lips together and shook his head as if disgusted with himself.

  “I’m not much of a friend to you, at any rate.”

  “What… what are you talking about?” Vic asked

  incredulously as he came around and stood in front of Shane,

  looking down at him as he cast a shadow over him.

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  Shane looked up at him blankly, and Vic knelt so that he

  was resting his forearms on Shane’s thighs and looking up at

  him.

  “Shane, you’re the best friend I think I’ve ever had.

  Certainly the only man I’d climb up mountains of sand with,”

  he added with a small smile, hoping to cheer Shane up by

  making light of their time together.

  Shane smiled sadly at him and looked down at his hands,

  and Vic realized then just what Shane had said.

  “You know… you don’t have to worry about Owen, right?”

  he asked tentatively.

  “Any other men you’re hopelessly in love with?” Shane

  asked wryly.

  “I think the key word there is hopeless,” Vic murmured as

  he fell back with a grunt and sat on the warm wood of the

  deck. He looked down at his own hands and sighed. He’d

  convinced himself that it was the best thing to do, breaking off

  anything but his friendship with Owen, and he was still sure of

  that decision. It didn’t make the melancholy of loss any easier

  to deal with, though.

  “He’s a fool,” Shane said bitterly.

  Vic’s head shot up to look at him in shock. He had never

  heard Shane say anything even remotely negative about Owen

  in the five years they had all known one another. He’d never

  heard him say anything negative about almost anyone, and he

  sat for criminal cases every day.

  “He’s a fucking fool for what he does,” Shane declared. “If

  he doesn’t know you love him, then… then he’s a fool. And if he

  does, then he’s a bastard,” he told Vic decisively.

  Vic leaned back to look up at Shane as if seeing him for

  the first time. Where was this bitterness coming from? Vic had

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  harbored thoughts along similar lines, but he knew why he was

  bitter.

  Was it really possible that Shane had feelings for him that

  went beyond the physical? Was it possible that all these years

  Shane had been stoically silent about how Vic and Owen

  carried on, all the while being in love with him?

  “Something you need to tell me?” Vic asked suspiciously,

  thinking back
on Shane’s words and wondering if he really

  wanted to hear what Shane had to say.

  Shane blinked at him once and then sighed heavily. “No,”

  he said stubbornly.

  Vic frowned disbelievingly, but then nodded slowly and

  sighed as well. “Okay then,” he said softly. “What now, huh?”

  he asked as he stretched out on the deck and circled his knees

  with his arms, choosing to drop all the uncomfortable subjects

  and offer Shane the out he had been unwilling to offer before.

  “Hot tub, beach, or beer?”

  Shane looked at him warily for several moments, obviously

  thinking that there was a trick and that Vic was going to come

  back with another question any second. After a moment of

  deliberation, he gave Vic a small smile and said, “Any

  combination including the latter will do me fine.”

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  V

  Vic and Shane were lucky in that not only were they both

  exceptionally blessed in the art of holding their alcohol, but

  also in that they forgot and forgave easily. By nightfall their

  passionate embrace of the afternoon was yet another laughing

  matter, and they sat giggling together at the edge of the back

  deck as they passed a bottle of beer back and forth. It was their

  last one, hence the sharing, and they would have to go out in

  the morning for more.

  “Shows you how desperate I am,” Shane slurred as he took

  the bottle from Vic and took a short gulp. “Drinking beer-

  flavored backwash.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t seem to mind the slobber when your

  tongue was exploring my tonsils,” Vic replied as the bottle was

  handed back to him.

  “Yeah but… you still have your tonsils?”

  “No, actually, now that you mention it. Figure of speech,

  really. Descriptive prose and… uhh….”

  “Right, right. What were we talking about?”

  “Umm….”

  Tonight, though, tonight they were far too gone to care

  that their supply had run dry. The night sky was dark, the low

  clouds covering the moon and stars, and the only hint of the

  overwhelming ocean before them was the sound it made as it

  reached its waves toward them and the phosphorescent glow of

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  the waves. All in all, it was a wonderful night, the silences once

  more comfortable despite the strange events of the day, and Vic

  closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sea spray.

  “It’s nice to sit here like this,” Shane said suddenly.

  “I know,” Vic agreed appreciatively. “I meant what I said

  before,” he said, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed the sound

  and the smell of his surroundings. “You’re a good friend,

  Shane. Great friend.”

  “And you’re drunk,” Shane snickered, making Vic grin and

  scrunch his nose up happily as he giggled again.

  Anyone else, and Vic would have been uncomfortable with

  this. If it had been anyone else he had come here with, he

  would have been uneasy about the sudden change to the

  relationship. But not Shane. Shane was steady and constant,

  and even though there was a little lingering tension over the

  kiss they had shared, they weren’t allowing it to change

  anything. Not tonight, anyway. Perhaps the copious amounts of

  beer had helped.

  “You about ready to turn in?” Shane asked in a slightly

  slurring voice.

  “Mmhmm. You still gonna protect me from the bad

  dreams?” Vic asked with a lazy smile as he finally opened his

  eyes and looked over at Shane. His sore muscles prayed that

  Shane would still let him share the good mattress.

  Shane snorted and nodded his head, groaning as he hefted

  himself to his feet and swayed precariously on the edge of the

  deck. “Whoa,” he said with a snicker as he wheeled his right

  arm through the air in a desperate vie for balance. “Long way

  down from up here,” he remarked of the roughly eight-inch fall

  after he had steadied himself. It probably did look pretty far

  when you were as wasted as they were.

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  Instead of risking toppling over and having to sleep in the

  sand where he landed, Vic flopped onto his back and just

  rolled, wallowing on the ground while Shane giggled above him,

  until he was away from the edge of the deck and could crawl to

  the relative safety of the sliding glass doors.

  “You sure you don’t mind sharing?” he asked as he let his

  head hang and crawled forward a little.

  “C’mon, Vic,” Shane huffed as he took Vic’s arm and

  pulled him to his feet clumsily. “Get your ass in gear. M’tired.”

  “Me too,” Vic said contentedly, letting his head rest on

  Shane’s shoulder as they walked arm in arm toward the

  bedroom. “I call right side,” he crooned happily.

  “Damn it.”

  Vic had foregone the melatonin pills in favor of alcohol, but

  still his dreams that night were vivid. They weren’t, however, all

  bad. He knew he was dreaming, because even as he lived

  through his dreams he could always tell that they weren’t real.

  There was just something about them, some quality to them

  that allowed a part of his mind to sit back and say something

  like, “This would make an interesting anecdote in the morning”

  or simply ask “What the hell did I eat tonight?”

  These dreams, though, Vic knew very well what had

  provoked them. It was amazing how something as simple as a

  kiss, no matter how heated or memorable it had been, could

  translate into dreaming that Shane was inside him, thrusting

  with slow, languid strokes. Tasting his lips again as he pushed

  into him over and over, hearing his low moans.

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  When Vic awoke from the dream in the middle of the night,

  he was fairly panting for breath, and Shane shifted next to him

  in bed and raised his head. “You okay?” he asked roughly,

  obviously having been disturbed from sleep.

  “Yeah,” Vic breathed as he lay completely still, clutching

  the sheet to him uncomfortably and staring up at the ceiling.

  “Another nightmare?” Shane asked groggily as he rolled

  onto his side and placed his hand over Vic’s chest comfortingly.

  “Jesus, Vic, your heart’s pounding,” he murmured as he

  seemed to shake the remainder of sleep away and become a

  little worried.

  Should Vic lie and say that it had been another bad dream

  that was leaving him breathless and making his heart try to

  leap from his chest? Vic knew he couldn’t tell Shane the truth.

  They had just barely shaken off the awkwardness of their

  earlier contact. Telling the other man he was now having erotic

  dreams about him would not aid in their recovery.

  “Guess so,” he murmured, not able to actually lie and

  imply that the dreams of touching Shane so intimately had

  been bad ones.

  Shane hummed a little and patted Vic’s chest like he

  would a dog for behaving, and then his fingers rubbed almost
/>
  unconsciously over the thin material of Vic’s T-shirt before his

  hand stopped moving and he scooted closer to Vic’s body. Vic

  knew Shane was doing the same thing he had the night before,

  thinking that Vic was suffering from nightmares and simply

  offering the comfort of having another body next to him. But

  tonight the contact was most unwelcome. Or rather, too

  welcome.

  Vic felt himself respond to the warmth of Shane’s body and

  the familiar, comforting smell of the other man. Even beneath

  the salty scent of the ocean and the sweet smell of the tanning

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  lotion that still clung to them both, Vic could smell Shane. He

  had never been able to pinpoint the smell. It was part classy,

  expensive cologne, part shampoo and shaving crème and

  deodorant, part smoke and something earthy that Vic was

  innately drawn to and had yet to identify.

  Before, the smell had always been comforting to Vic; the

  scent of friendship and camaraderie and solace. Now, though,

  now the scent was reinforced with the memory of taste. The

  taste of lingering saltwater and beer, of cherry-flavored lip balm

  infused with sunscreen bought from the grocery store down the

  road, and that same indefinable smoke-and-earth taste that

  had made Vic desperately need more. Now, the smell reminded

  Vic of that taste. Now, Shane smelled not like a friend, but like

  the most amazing kiss Vic could remember having.

  “It’s okay,” Shane murmured as he slid his arm beneath

  Vic’s neck and let his hand close over Vic’s right shoulder as he

  pulled himself closer. “Bigfoot back tonight?” he asked with a

  sleepy smile as he turned his head and rested his cheek

  against Vic’s left shoulder and let his free arm drift down until

  it was draped across Vic’s waist.

  Vic was holding his breath, trying to convince himself that

  it was not a good idea to turn his head just a tiny bit and press

  his lips to the top of Shane’s head.

  “No,” he answered softly, barely breathing as Shane’s body

  relaxed into his. Vic desperately wanted to touch the other