“I know, but you’re out there, building this building and that’s more than some other people who were on chemo six months ago do, you know.”
“But?”
Brian sighed. “But I just don’t like it when you say things like architecture isn’t an option anymore. I know you still love it because I saw how you were this afternoon after talking to Sheridan. You were happy like I haven’t seen you happy in a long time.”
At first, Andrew had been annoyed at being called away from his work, but they’d almost finished up and Terri and Damo had assured him they could to the final clean up in no time without him. Sam had grumbled but made no real objection, so Andrew had followed Vaughn into the office—Ron had already left for a meeting—and found himself looking at plans for the first time in two years.
It had been frightening at first. What if he’d forgotten even simple things? Or everything? The attention from Vaughn was equally scary and flattering. This man had been his professional idol for years and to now be standing beside him and expected to talk knowledgably about the field Vaughn was an expert in was terrifying. And Vaughn hadn’t exactly held his hand, either. He’d let Andrew study the incomplete plans for several minutes, then started asking questions. Andrew had floundered for the first ten minutes, but it had all started coming back to him with Vaughn’s help. By the end of the discussion, the words were flowing easily as Andrew applied his practical experience to the theory he’d learned at uni. Rediscovering that enjoyment in architecture and exploring it in new ways with Vaughn had been . . . good.
Vaughn’s initial interest obviously hadn’t been feigned. Once Andrew was confidently answering his questions, he’d listened intently and expanded on his ideas, leading them into more interesting areas.
That was why Andrew had wanted to work with Vaughn. Not just because they had similar goals about creating eco-friendly options that were cost effective and actually worked, but because he made Andrew think and challenge himself as well as the status quo. It had been a reminder of how he’d once been, before fear and uncertainty had taken over his life.
“Maybe I was just happy to see you,” Andrew said.
“No. This was before you knew I was there.” Brian grimaced. “Look, you were either happy about talking architecture with your hero, or happy about talking with the hot stud architect. You pick and there’s only one right answer, okay?”
Andrew stretched out his leg under the table and ran his foot up Brian’s calf, since he couldn’t hold his hand on the tabletop. “First option. Vaughn brought one of his old designs and wanted to discuss it with me. It was good. I haven’t forgotten everything at least. But it isn’t going to change my mind.”
Brian regarded him for a long moment, lower lip caught between his teeth. Which made Andrew want to coax it out and suck on it for an hour or two.
“Well, you got the right answer, so go you,” Brian finally conceded.
“Good to know.”
“How come you didn’t tell me Sheridan was the architect on this job and that he’d spoken to you?”
Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we weren’t exactly communicating too well when he spoke to me the first time, so . . . As for not telling you he was the architect, it wasn’t important at the time.”
After another long moment, Brian smiled. “Fair enough. Shall we kick on with the next part of this date?”
“Which is?”
“The kissing.”
Completely on board, Andrew called the waiter over and asked for the cheque. Brian insisted on paying, since he’d done the asking out.
“I do have one question for you,” Andrew said as they walked back to the Jag.
“Ask away.”
“Do you really think Vaughn is a hot stud?”
Brian cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t? Aren’t you bi?”
“Yes.” It was getting easier each time he said it. Well, around Brian at least. Andrew was pretty certain it was going to be harder with other people. “And yeah, he’s good looking. I just wasn’t sure you noticed guys that way. You haven’t said anything about being bi or pan.”
Brian shrugged. “I notice guys and I think I have a fairly objective idea of what makes someone good looking. But I’m not sure I’m actually attracted to them. I mean, you appear to be an exception.”
Unsure if that explanation put his mind at complete rest, Andrew asked, “Does it worry you to be attracted to another man, even if it is only me?”
Expecting an instant response, Andrew got only silence for half a block, then a long sigh.
“I think it does, yeah. That’s nothing to do with you,” he added hastily. “You’re like perfect boyfriend material, for anyone. Tall and fucking cut. Ridiculously handsome with those blond freaking curls and big brown eyes. I wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with you on my arm about town.”
They were definitely going to have to talk about coming out at some point.
“But,” Brian continued, “this is new and different, for both of us, and right now, I don’t want to question too much about it, or myself. I’m really thrilled you can accept yourself as bi. And I’m mega thrilled you’re being bi with me. I just . . . want to enjoy this and be happy with you for as long as I can without complicating it with questions about why I want to suck your dick or sit on your face, or just lie in bed with you like we did last night and be content even if there was no sex. Do you get that?”
Andrew nodded slowly. “I do, and I can go along with anything you want.”
“Good.”
They had reached the car when Andrew couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sit on my face?” He wasn’t sure in the dark but he thought he saw Brian blush.
“Maybe.”
Smirking, Andrew said, “We’ll see.”
The drive home was swift and Andrew didn’t wait until they were in the house to start the kissing portion of the date. Brian clung to him, hungry and greedy and they stumbled inside locked together.
“I want to spread you out on the kitchen counter again,” Andrew said between kisses and sucks on that lower lip he’d been looking at all evening.
“Not tonight, cowboy.” Brian steered them through the kitchen and towards the couch.
“Cowboy?”
“Oops, sorry. Wrong Village People person. Construction worker.”
Andrew cracked up. They’d discovered the Village People when they were twelve and going through a box of records that had belonged to Brian’s grandfather. One listen on the old record player found next to the box and they were hooked for about two weeks. Then Zach Green, the boy who’d knocked Brian over years before, had told them the Village People were all gay and died of AIDS and if they kept listening to their music, they would turn gay and die of AIDS too, according to his dad. Brian had wanted to fight him over it but Andrew had held him back and after that, the joy had fizzled.
Maybe it was time for a revival.
“Want me to grow a porn stash?” he asked.
“You would? For me? And wear a hardhat in bed? Meet me at the door in nothing but a toolbelt and holding a hammer?”
“What the hell is the hammer for?”