Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

**One Month Later**

“And we’re off,” Bastian announced, holding down the on button for his mic and smiling through the soundproof glass at the co-hosts.  “Great show, although I could use a head’s up before you start getting into STDs—just for future reference.”

“That wasn’t planned,” Poe replied, wincing in sympathy.  “But hey, safe sex is the best sex, right?”

“Gotta say, babe, his bedroom talk needs some work,” Bastian teased and Finn threw his head back and laughed while Poe looked wounded.  Bastian winked at the older man in apology before rolling his chair away from the soundboard and starting to shut it down for the night. 

“We were thinking about getting something to eat,” Finn mentioned as he shouldered his way into the sound booth, Poe following behind.

“I endorse eating as a commendable recreation,” Bastian mumbled, checking all the switches were back to their neutral before powering it down.

“You should come with us,” Finn said brightly, hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets and watching Bastian with an expectant smile.

“I’m good, but thanks, babe,” Bastian answered, hauling his backpack up to the counter and sliding his tablet in.

“Come on,” Finn pressed.  “I never see you anymore!”

Bastian clicked the lid closed on his water bottle and shot Finn a skeptical look.  “Babe, I see you at least three times a week and my phone thinks you’re the only person I talk to.  I know you’d love me to be your official third wheel but--,”

“We don’t want you to feel left out,” Poe explained calmly.

“Poe, you’re a great guy.  Please believe that I want to be left out of your vortex of adorable,” Bastian said seriously, zipping his bag shut and tossing it over one shoulder.  “Besides, the Great British Bake-Off is coming back so I have an excuse to rewatch all the old episodes on Netflix.”

Finn rolled his eyes while Poe said, “Wait, seriously?”

“I’m a single gay guy.  I thought it was assumed I watched overly polite Brits bake Chelsea buns.  Which, by the way,” Bastian continued, warming to the subject, “are just sorry excuses for cinnamon rolls and I don’t think I like that.”

“What do you mean ‘single,’” Finn asked sharply.

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean ‘single,’’” Bastian parried and Finn groaned, running a hand down his face in exasperation.

“I thought you and Iolo were…” Poe hinted.

“We’re hanging out,” Bastian shrugged casually.  “Pre-dating or whatever.”

“You’ve been doing that for a month,” Finn said, sounding mildly offended and Bastian thought it was for his sake.  That was nice.

“Yeah, a month and he still wants to talk to me.  That’s a huge improvement over my recent batting average,” Bastian grinned, turning to grab his discarded hoodie and just turning back in time to catch the loaded look Finn sent Poe.  “I’ll tell ya what: I’m not working Saturday night.  We could go grab dinner or something?”

“The four of us,” Finn added firmly.

Bastian blinked.  “Sure, if he’s free.  He’s been working on something lately.  Anyway, I’ve got a train to catch.  Wish me luck—the red line has been on fire for the past week, I swear to God,” Bastian laughed, waving over his shoulder as he moved to the second door out of the sound booth.  On his way out he heard Poe say,

“I’ll talk to him.”

And Finn replied, “You better or I will.”  And then the door closed and Bastian headed out, wondering how this became his life.

**Thursday**

“Anyone home,” Poe called as he stepped into the dimly lit apartment, avoiding tripping over discarded shoes only because he had been there enough times to expect them.

“You know, I only gave you that key for emergencies,” Iolo said, not even taking his eyes off the rerun of Frasier he had found on a random channel. 

“Well, I haven’t heard from you in a few days.  Had to make sure you were still breathing,” Poe answered, leaning against the back of the cream suede couch and looking around.

“I’m on the radio every morning from 5:30 to 10,” Iolo shot back without any heat, his lips twitching up as he watched out of the corner of his eye Poe’s evident shock at the cleanliness.

“So the lack of dirty dishes and ripped paper tells me you actually finished that thing?”

“I finished that thing,” Iolo smiled tiredly, clicking down the volume on the TV since it seemed like Poe was there to stay.  “About two hours ago.”

“And?”

“Didn’t even read it through.  Just submitted it as soon as I clicked save,” Iolo replied, feeling a weary satisfaction at the whole thing.  Anyway, he tried not to read back his own work before getting the first edits back; it helped to keep him objective—or as objective as possible, seeing as the whole thing was his.

“Damn!  Congrats, man!  I know that one was giving you a hard time,” Poe grinned, reaching out and ruffling Iolo’s already messy hair.  “We should celebrate.”

“Beer’s in the fridge,” Iolo mentioned, holding up his own bottle of Blue Moon for emphasis.

“Great, but I meant really celebrate,” Poe said as he headed for the kitchen.  “We should go out.”

Iolo barked out a surprised laugh.  “I think you’ve got me confused for one of those gung-ho extroverts you’ve been hanging around.”

“I’m serious,” Poe pressed, coming back with a beer and Iolo passed the bottle opener (shaped like Delaware) over as Poe took a seat on the couch next to him.  “You’ve been kind of MIA and some people might not be used to that.”

“What are you talking about,” Iolo asked, putting the TV on mute since it was a commercial anyway (for sad puppies, come on).

“How’s Bastian,” Poe asked instead of answering.

“Ah,” Iolo nodded, “I see.  Well joke’s on you; I talked to him an hour ago and we’re getting coffee tomorrow.”

“Is it more of this pre-date nonsense,” Poe frowned.

“We’re getting to know each other,” Iolo shrugged, taking a sip of his beer.  “I’m pretty sure that’s one of those ‘foundations for a lasting relationship’ things you go on about.”

“Yes,” Poe allowed, although he sounded begrudged about it.  “But there’s getting to know someone and then there’s stringing someone along.”

“Oh goodie.  The hypocrite has come to judge me,” Iolo sighed, resting the still-cool bottle against his temple as he shifted to face his friend.  “Well?”

“Look, I know I don’t have much of a leg to stand on here--,”

“I’m glad you see that,” Iolo drawled.  “Because I am completely prepared to go through the past year and point out all the stupid shit you pulled around Finn because you were too scared to make a move.  It took the wunderkind to get your head out of your ass and now you want to sit here and tell me I’m the dysfunctional one.”

“We’re not talking about me, but thanks for making me sound pathetic,” Poe rolled his eyes.  “A little birdie told me that Bastian thinks he’s single.”

“He is single.  I’m single.  I told him I had a deadline and I wouldn’t be around much, he said to call him when I’m free.  I don’t see what the problem is.”

“But he doesn’t know how you get.”

“Trust me, he knows more about it than I’m comfortable with,” Iolo grumbled, taking a larger gulp of his rapidly-warming beer.  Maybe he should turn on the AC…

“And what does that mean,” Poe asked, cocking his head to the side.

“His last relationship was with a moody artist,” Iolo supplied, glancing back at the TV where Niles was gesturing dramatically.  “He honest to God was surprised to even hear from me tonight.  He said something like ‘I thought you’d be getting laid or shit-faced right now.’”

Poe ran a hand through his hair and frowned.  “Really?”

“Oh yeah.  So that’s loaded with baggage I’m not getting into right now.  I told him I tend to lean more comatose than that and then asked him to get coffee before his shift tomorrow.”

“Right, but this pre-date shit--,”

“Is a joke he made up and isn’t meant to go on for the rest of our lives,” Iolo finished, rolling his eyes.

“But does Bastian know that?”

“Okay, I’m starting to think you came here with an agenda so why don’t you just skip to the end.”

“Saturday night, 7:30, double date,” Poe said quickly with a winning smile.

“If he’s down, I’m down,” Iolo shrugged, picking the remote back up and unmuting.  “But if this ends up just being the two of us watching the Finn-and-Poe-Circus-of-Love I’m never doing a double date with you again.”

“I’ll let Finn know if we ever decide to go into the porn industry you’ve got the title all set,” Poe joked, leaning back into the couch and facing the TV.

“I want no credit for that,” Iolo said smiling, tilting the neck of his bottle towards Poe.

“Oh, your name will be in the opening scroll, don’t even worry about that,” Poe winked, clinking his bottle neck against Iolo’s and then taking a sip.

**Friday**

“Musical instrument,” Iolo demanded, leaning forward seriously.

“The recorder in fourth grade,” Bastian replied, squinting upwards in thought.  “And a brief, ill-fated affair with a ukulele in high school.”

“Oh God, you were one of those guys,” Iolo groaned playfully, smiling as Bastian shrugged completely unapologetic.  This was nice.  Bastian had suggested a coffee place up in Woodley Park, and they’d already been talking for an hour, having taken over a corner of the outdoor seating area.  Bastian was sprawled out in his wooden seat, wearing another band t-shirt and jeans with ripped knees (which, when Iolo had pointed them out, Bastian told him they hadn’t come ripped, but there was this time with a skateboard and a fast-moving car…) and looking more relaxed than Iolo ever remembered seeing him.  And if Iolo was taking advantage of the ease by interrogating the younger man on his interests, well…there wasn’t any law against that.  “Dancing?”

“Oh, you mean spazzing to music,” Bastian joked, shaking his plastic take-away cup as if that would help the ice melt faster.  “I can keep a beat, but I’m not going to be winning any mirror ball trophies over here.  I can salsa,” he added suddenly, as if he just remembered.

“That’s awesome,” Iolo grinned.  “Why?”

Bastian laughed because somehow he didn’t think that sounded as rude as Iolo thought it was.  “Well, my roommate freshman year joined this salsa club at American, right?  And I wasn’t doing anything Tuesday nights so I tagged along.  Cut to a year later and I wasn’t the worse dancer in the room.”

“That’s really random but cool.”

“That’s my M.O.,” Bastian winked, rolling his head back for a moment while Iolo admired the sinuous tendons that stretched as he did so.

“Poetry,” Iolo asked to fill the silence, reaching for straws because so far Bastian hadn’t confessed any kind of abilities and Iolo knew he was hiding something.

“I wrote a limerick in third grade,” Bastian announced, smiling lazily.  Iolo cushioned his chin on his fist and waited, eyes wide.  “Oh, you wanna—uh, okay,” Bastian chuckled before making a show of clearing his throat and sitting up straight. 

“There once was a leprechaun named Tall

Yet he was very, very small

He went to the store

But got hit with an oar

Now he goes to the mall.”

Iolo didn’t think he could stop laughing if there was a gun to his head.  His abs ached and he hugged himself, bending forward until his forehead was resting on the tabletop.  His cackles were starting to sound a bit wet from snot when he finally managed to take a couple deep breaths in a row and straighten up, and then had to gasp again because Bastian was looking at him so happily, like making Iolo laugh was somehow satisfying.  “You’ve gotta write that down for me.  That was the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Iolo said, breathless and serious.

“I know.  That’s why I got out of the poetry circuit.  I knew I peaked in Mrs. Henry’s third grade class.”  Iolo shook his head at that, still beaming as he fished a small pad of paper out of his back pocket and offered it to Bastian, who didn’t seem even slightly phased as he took it and pulled a Sharpie out of his own pocket.

“I’m gonna hang it on my fridge,” Iolo teased as Bastian got to work transcribing his poem.

“Well that’s more than my mom did,” he mumbled, entirely focused on his work.  “She thought it was too violent.  Like I was condoning leprechaun bashing or something.”

“Were you?”

“Just hand over the pot of gold and no one gets hurt,” Bastian quipped before handing the pad back.  Iolo appreciated the doodled boat oar next to the five-line poem.

“I’ll cherish it forever.”

“You better!  That’s an original!”

“Bastian?  No way, seriously?!”

Iolo twisted around, just in time to catch a woman with a blue pixie cut and a tattoo sleeve dashing towards them, hurdling a low table like an Olympic runner.  Following behind her was a guy with two sleeves of tattoos and a wide smile.

“Hey, Celine,” Bastian said, getting to his feet and getting caught in a tight hug.  “How’s it going?”

“Where have you been,” Celine snapped, shaking Bastian slightly from her grip around his midsection.  “The gang’s been reporting sightings of you like you were a UFO!”

“That’s nice,” Bastian said with a tight smile, and Iolo felt a bit annoyed that the carefree smile was gone.  “What’s up, Trent?”

“Same old, same old,” the other man replied, gently tapping his fist against Bastian’s chin as Celine pulled away.  “Bit slow at the shop, but summer’s coming so that’ll help.”

“Right.  Everyone doing okay,” Bastian asked, awkwardness radiating and Iolo debated if he should step in or not.

“Yeah, man, we’re all good.  Frankie and Jasmine are tying the knot soon,” Celine said.  “You’re coming, right?”

“I’m gonna try,” Bastian allowed, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Gotta see if I can get time off.”

“They really want you to be there,” Trent pressed, slinging an arm around Celine’s shoulders.  “You were our friend too, ya know?”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Bastian agreed, shifting his weight.  “Just been busy.”

“It’s okay.  We get it,” Celine shrugged.  “And you’re looking good.  You’ve put on some weight.”

Iolo thought that was an impolite thing to say but Bastian just answered, “Yeah.  No more starving artist diet.”

“People always forget the starving artist’s partner was starving too,” Celine said and as he watched Bastian practically shrink into himself, Iolo got to his feet.

“Hi,” Iolo started and Bastian’s head whipped over, surprised.

“God, I’m sorry.  I totally—Iolo, this is Celine and Trent.  Guys, this is Iolo,” Bastian introduced quickly.

“Shit, are you on a date,” Trent asked, sounding a bit more shocked than Iolo approved of.

“Well,” Bastian started, glancing over at Iolo with a grimace of sympathy.

“They totally are,” Celine squealed, punching Bastian in the arm.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  Good for you!”

“Getting back in the saddle,” Trent said approvingly.

Bastian swallowed, eyes focused on his shoes.  “Been four years.”

“Bastian, didn’t you say you wanted to stop by your place before heading to work,” Iolo cut in, making a show of pulling his cellphone out of his pocket.  “It’s getting kinda late.”

“Yes,” Bastian said loudly and quickly.  “Yes, I need to grab that—right, it’s been nice seeing you,” he tossed at Trent and Celine as he grabbed his Sharpie and cup from the table.  “Text me sometime?”

Trent barely got out a response of, “Will do.  Take care,” before Iolo neatly got a hand in Bastian’s and led them off down the sidewalk.

“Is it this way,” Iolo asked once they were at the corner. 

“Nah, but we can circle around to it,” Bastian replied, tossing the sweating cup into a trashcan and then jerking his head for Iolo to follow him across the street.  “The hand-holding is new,” he mentioned as he gave Iolo’s fingers knitted between his a squeeze.

“Well, they were being annoying and I wanted to prove a point,” Iolo answered with a hard edge as Bastian took them down the block.

“The point being that we hold hands?”

“The point being you have a life and they can stay out of it,” Iolo snapped, immediately feeling guilty.  “Sorry.  I just—I didn’t like how they were talking to you.”

“They were Jamie’s friends,” Bastian muttered, keeping a firm grip on Iolo’s hand and Iolo didn’t want to question why it felt so nice.

“Yeah, I figured,” Iolo shrugged with one shoulder.

“But then again, they weren’t really.  He didn’t really do friends,” Bastian continued, tugging Iolo around the next corner, doubling back the way they had come except one block over.  “He—sometimes he liked being around people, especially other people who got it.  The whole artistic genius thing,” he said with an exasperated eye roll.  “But that would last maybe a day, and then he’d ghost.  He’d stay in the apartment for weeks, wouldn’t talk to anyone--,”

“Not even you,” Iolo asked, a pit forming in his stomach as he remembered that he had just gone about a week without seeing Bastian or talking to him.  They had texted a bit, but…

“Not so much,” Bastian allowed.  “I mean, once we lived together he couldn’t really hide, ya know?  It’s a loft; like, where would he go?”

“So Celine and Trent?”

“They think they were best friends with Jamie,” Bastian said drily.  “And that’s fine.  They can think what they want.  But I know it’s bullshit because Jamie wasn’t good friends with anyone.”

“Except you,” Iolo hinted.

“Nah, we weren’t friends.  We were committed.”

“That’s…an interesting way of saying that,” Iolo drew out as Bastian sped up to catch the light, pulling Iolo behind him by the hand.

“Yeah, it makes more sense if you knew him.  Not important.  So, about tomorrow night,” Bastian said brightly, changing the subject as smoothly as someone could under the circumstances.

“Yeah, how do you feel about that,” Iolo asked, following Bastian down a cut-through alley and starting to feel a bit lost.

“Well, I like tapas,” Bastian shrugged.  “I didn’t mean to drag you into it though.  Finn was saying he missed hanging out with me—which is crazy but whatever.  So I said I’d go to dinner with him and Poe on Saturday and then you got wrangled into it.”

“I don’t mind,” Iolo said quickly.

“Yeah, but I feel like you were kinda put on the spot,” Bastian winced with empathy and Iolo felt the muscles in his face relax as he pictured how he had been informed of the plan.

“That’s Poe.  I’m used to it by now.  But, um,” Iolo wet his lips quickly, squinting against the direct sunlight as the pair of them emerged from the alley onto a slightly less busy sidewalk.  “What do you think about double dating?”

“Like, on principle?  I don’t have any hard and fast feelings on it,” Bastian shrugged, looking like he was considering jaywalking before thinking better of it and guiding them to the next corner.

“I meant us double dating,” Iolo pressed.

“Think we would need to be single dating before we could double date,” Bastian mumbled, hand easing to release Iolo’s but Iolo held on and pulled the younger man to a stop.

“Okay, wise guy.  How would you feel about going on a date with me,” Iolo asked, pulling himself up straight to use his slight height advantage.  Judging by the quick up and down glance, Bastian noticed.

“I have work,” he said lamely.

“Bastian, you sure aren’t making this easy.”

“I just—I don’t know if you’re asking me out now ‘cause you’re actually interested or ‘cause you feel bad.”

“I’m very interested.  What would I feel bad about?”  Iolo watched Bastian shrug uncomfortably and jerk his head back the way they’d come.  It took Iolo a second to catch on.  “No, I’m not asking you out because Jamie’s so-called friends were rude to you.  I’m not actually that nice.”

Bastian snorted at that, eyes darting back to Iolo’s face again.  “You’re not?”

“Nope,” Iolo smiled.  “I don’t ask out people I feel sorry for.  If I did, I would’ve been dating Poe for the past year.”

That got a proper laugh out of Bastian and Iolo could’ve fist pumped in triumph.  “Oh my God, he was such an idiot!”

“Oh, he’s hopeless.  He’s literally read every book on relationships and couldn’t figure out a way to get into one.”

“Well, Finn took care of it,” Bastian said cheerfully.  “I say that sentence a lot, actually.  More than I probably should.”

“Back to the original topic,” Iolo scolded playfully.

“Huh?  Oh yeah, single dating,” Bastian nodded, hamming it up as he considered it like it was a philosophy question and Iolo waited, growing steadily less sure of himself.  “I’m not opposed but…I kinda thought you wanted to take it easy?”

Iolo nodded thoughtfully while he deciphered that comment.  “Because I didn’t ask you out right off the bat?”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Iolo took a deep breath and let go of Bastian’s hand to immediately grip both of the younger man’s shoulders.  “I see how you would have gotten that impression from the information you had.”

“Yeah, my outstanding deduction skills,” Bastian drawled although Iolo thought he looked a bit nervous.

“Look, I don’t think I did this right,” Iolo frowned, hating the fact that Poe had to go and be right again.  “I didn’t—it wasn’t that I didn’t want to date you.  I was nervous and blabbed out the first thing that came to mind and then you came up the ‘pre-date’ idea--,”

“Yeah, I’ve been regretting that for a couple weeks now,” Bastian confessed and Iolo smiled.

“Well, I’m regretting it right now.  So, should I do this correctly?”

Bastian blinked before a smile slowly began to stretch his face up.  “Yeah, I guess you could.”

Iolo glanced around quickly before deciding to just go for it.  He stepped back with his left foot and sunk neatly to genuflect in front of Bastian.  He heard the other man’s sharp intake of breath as Iolo took Bastian’s left hand between both of his and looked up, smiling.  “Bastian Alexander Johnson, will you go on a date with me?”

“That’s not my middle name,” Bastian mumbled, eyes darting over Iolo’s face.

“Not really the point.”

Bastian laughed.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Iolo said, just to be as clear as possible.  “I’d really like that.”

“Super,” Bastian said, voice rippling with giggles and Iolo couldn’t think of anything that sounded better than that.

“Congratulations,” a cheery woman in a yellow dress called as she walked by, breaking the moment.

“Thanks,” Bastian replied brightly.  “Only made me wait ages!”

“They’re all like that,” the woman in yellow laughed, walking backwards to wave before continuing on her way.

“Right, thanks for that,” Iolo grumbled and smiled as he got back to his feet.

“You’re the fool who got on one knee in the middle of the sidewalk.  What did you think was going to happen,” Bastian grinned before his phone went off with a submarine siren and Iolo had to stop himself from covering his ears because it was too damn loud.  “Fuck, I’m gonna be late,” Bastian hissed as he clicked off the ‘dive’ alert.

“I’ll text—who are you taking over for,” Iolo asked, taking out his own phone as Bastian scrolled through his phone.

“Karé.  There’s a red line to Shady Grove in ten.  I’ve got to get me stuff,” Bastian said in a rush, glancing up at Iolo uncertainly.

“Go.  I’m fine,” Iolo shooed his away, already texting Karé to hold the fort if Bastian was late. 

“Can you find your way back to the metro from here?”

Iolo shook his head in disbelief.  Was this guy for real?  “No, but Google Maps should help.  Go on.”

“Just head that way two blocks and turn right.  You’ll see signs for the zoo but pass those and you’ll get to the Woodley Park stop,” Bastian explained quickly, already taking bouncing steps away while keeping his eyes on the older man.

“For God’s sake, just go!  I’ll see you tomorrow,” Iolo laughed, pointing as if sending Bastian off into battle.

“Yeah, see ya then!  Get home safe,” Bastian shouted and then turned and dashed away, leaving an amused Iolo behind.

Chapter Text

The thing is, Bastian should have seen this coming.  The low-grade headache he had been nursing for the past day and a half should’ve been enough.  But he hadn’t even noticed it when he had been with Iolo, and work had been easy enough that if he did rest his eyes a bit longer than he normally would’ve, well, it’s not like he had missed any of his transitions.

But when he finally blinked awake on Saturday it was one in the afternoon, his throat was sandpaper, his eyes were sore, and his head was pounding as if his heart had relocated to the base of his skull.  Swallowing drily and then coughing for the effort, Bastian set his phone alarm for five and figured if he didn’t feel better after some more sleep then this was really happening and he’d be better off sparing everyone.

Except he couldn’t sleep any more.  It was too hot so he kicked his stuffy sheets off and flipped his damp pillow over to the cool side.  That was better…until his sweat turned icy and he couldn’t stop shivering as he crawled over to the old trunk in the lofted bedroom to get out his winter comforter.  And that helped…until it felt like he was wrapped inside the sun and he tried to roll his way out of his cocoon and ended up rolling right off the low bed and banging his elbow.

Well, fuck.  This was happening.  Forcing himself up and hugging a pillow to his chest, Bastian squinted against the blinding light of his cellphone screen as he unlocked it and opened his text thread with Finn.  He blinked slowly, opening his eyes wide and trying to focus and text something that made sense but wasn’t worrying.

Bastian:

Hey, babe.  Gonna have to do a raincheck on tonight.  Feeling kinda sick.  I’ll make it up to ya.

Deciding that sounded innocent and sincere, he hit send and then flipped back to open his texts to Iolo.  This one would be harder.

Bastian:

Heyya.  I’m sorry but I’m not gonna make it tonight.  Got a little cold.  But if you’re free some time next week, maybe we can try that single date you mentioned? :)

Oh yeah, that’ll work.  The smiley face made it all better.  Bastian hit send and then debated if his head would let him get down for some water or if he was better off dying of dehydration.  Risking it, Bastian kicked his comforter over the open side of the lofted room, hearing it fall with a soft thud because it was so silent in the apartment.  God, he hated the silence.  Next, he peeled off his drenched t-shirt and pulled on another one that was on the floor from the past week.  Satisfied, he slid his phone between the elastic of his loose sweatpants and his hipbone before scooting over to the wrought-iron ladder down to the living area.  Knowing if he fell and split his head open it could be days before anyone noticed, he took a deep breath and swung himself around and planted his feet on the third rung down, gripping the rails tightly and waiting for his head to stop rocking as if he was on a boat.  That took a bit longer than could be deemed acceptable but eventually everything settled into equilibrium and Bastian made his way down—slowly, slowly—until his bare feet hit cool wood and he shuffled over to the bathroom to piss and see if he had any kind of medicine.

Turned out he did as he pulled open the mirror cabinet and smiled victoriously to himself at the large bottles of Nyquil, Dayquil, and Zzzquil.  Had he bought them in bulk or are they always that size.  Deciding it didn’t really matter, he settled for mentally congratulated himself on past-Bastian’s forethought.  Except the Zzzquil was half empty and the others weren’t opened.  Well, that meant he didn’t get sick, right?  And so what if he couldn’t sleep some nights?  Who in the world got a full night’s sleep every night without some kind of help?  And it says right on the bottle that it wasn’t addictive.  Nothing wrong with that, he convinced himself as he took the other two bottles out, not closing the cabinet because he didn’t need to see his zombie face.  He shuffled over to the kitchen area and got himself a glass of water from his Brita pitcher he must’ve left out overnight, taking a tentative sip as he tried to figure out which to take.  Daytime so Dayquil?  Or sleepy so Nyquil?  Maybe he should ask Micah…Micah was good at this kind of thing…

Nah, Dayquil first and if it didn’t help he’d do Nyquil next time.  Yep, that’ll work.  Bastian measured out a dosage and knocked it back like it was a shot he didn’t want but hadn’t paid for.  He rinsed with more water, which only seemed to make his throat drier.  How was that fair?  His phone buzzed against his side as he screwed the top back on the meds.

Iolo:

Are you okay?  Do you need anything?

Well, that was sweet.  Bastian snapped a quick picture of his frankly impressive medical collection and sent it back with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone again.  He took his water and went over to the loveseats, choosing the cushy and ugly mustard yellow one this time and collapsing down, rubbing the bridge of his nose as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  Yeah, this isn’t gonna be fun.

He left the comforter where it was since he was hot again and instead opened his music app and turned on his Ed Sheeran playlist.  Sometimes the soothing tones of Ed Sheeran was just necessary and, as he turned the volume down low and placed it face down on the crate to his left, this was one of those times.

…It’s not a homeless life for me

It’s just I’m home less than I’d like to be…

...No, I don't want no scrub

A scrub is a guy who can't get no love from me...

Bastian didn’t realize he had dozed off until he was shivering again and the low hum of the British singer had changed to ‘No Scrubs’ which meant he was getting a call.

“ ‘Ello,” he rasped into the phone, rubbing his eyes which had gone crusty.

“Hey, I’m at your apartment,” came Iolo’s voice.  “Your landlord doesn’t believe that I know you.”

“Huh?”  That was a lot of information at once.

“Just—okay, I’m going to put you on speaker.”  There was some shuffling and then Iolo’s voice came back, sounding echo-y.  “So, can you tell Ibrahim that I’m not here to kill you?”

“Ibrahim, he’s cool.  You don’t have to stop everyone who comes by,” Bastian mumbled, eyes sliding shut again.

“I don’t know him,” came Ibrahim’s carefully enunciated tone.

“Yeah, sorry.  I’ll bring him by for tea sometime, okay?”

“Yes, that would be acceptable,” Ibrahim said.  There was a pause and then Bastian snorted.

“You’ve gotta let him in now, Ibrahim.”

“I suppose.”

“Thank you,” Iolo said.  “I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Uh,” Bastian started but the call ended and left him gazing glazed down at his cell.  Well, one thing at a time he figured as he pushed himself from the mustard loveseat to the green one and draped himself over the back and pulled the discarded burgundy comforter up and wrapping it around himself like a cloak.  He was nesting again, just about comfy when his doorbell ding-donged and it sounded like he was living inside an organ as the sound reverberated around the loft.  Groaning, Bastian leveled himself to his feet, ignoring the way the room tilted as he managed his way to his door.  He fumbled with the deadlock but twisted it open on the second try and decided not to worry about it as he tugged the heavy wood door open.

“Hey, I brought you some—um,” Iolo trailed off, taking in the sweat-drenched face with red-rimmed eyes and the blanket-encased body.  “Jesus Christ.”

“Probably looked better three days dead than I do now,” Bastian murmured, leaning against the edge of the door as Iolo slipped past him.

“You said you had a little cold,” Iolo accused, putting the plastic bag he brought with him on the ground before dropping his messenger bag next to it.  Bastian shut the door, flicked the lock, and then rested his forehead against the cool wood.  This wasn’t so bad…maybe he could just… “Okay, back to bed,” Iolo said, his hands settling around Bastian’s blanketed hips and turning him gently back into the apartment.

“No bed.  Don’t wanna die,” Bastian mumbled.

“What?”

“Couch,” Bastian managed, squinting against the glare of sunlight now creeping through his tall windows as the sun shifted.

“Which one,” Iolo asked, supporting the younger man’s weight and taking in the space for the first time.  It was…different.  Besides the loft area above the wall of windows, it was just one open space, with the bathroom visible around a heavy curtain.  There were three small mismatched couches in a U with wooden shipping crates at the ends of each, the whole set up facing a bare wall except for a TV on an old traveler’s trunk and a single painting.  The kitchen was a long wall of cabinets and a countertop, with a sink and oven at either end.  The fridge was behind a long, paint-splattered wood table by the door.  Iolo swallowed and took a deep breath; this wasn’t Bastian’s apartment.  He lived there but anyone who spent five minutes with the guy would know this wasn’t his place.

“Yellow,” Bastian mumbled, his head rolling until it rested against Iolo’s neck.

The older man jerked in surprise at the heat radiating from Bastian’s skin.  “Shit, have you checked if you have a fever,” Iolo asked as he heaved Bastian towards the sofas.  Once they were close enough, Bastian stepped over the nearest crate and curled himself down onto the middle couch.

“Don’t need to.  I’ve got one,” Bastian answered, falling to his side and pulling his legs up to his chest.

“Right,” Iolo sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “Do you have a thermometer?”

“Sounds like something I don’t have.”

“Uh huh.  Course it does,” Iolo muttered mostly to himself, heading back to where he left his stuff, picking up the shopping bag and heading for the kitchen.  He took out the bottle of ginger ale he’d brought and unscrewed the lid, leaving it to go flat as he took out his cellphone.

Iolo:

You guys on your way yet?

Almost instantly the response lit up his phone.

Poe:

Stopped at Walgreen’s for supplies.  How is he?

Iolo:

Bad.  Grab a thermometer.

Poe:

Already did.  Leaving now.

“So what’s the plan,” Bastian called softly from the couch.

“Well, you can tell me to get lost, but I was gonna stick around at least until Finn and Poe got here,” Iolo answered, bringing the ginger ale and his messenger bag over and, after debating his choices, sat tentatively on the navy-blue couch facing the windows.

“Why?”

“In case you need anything.  Is that even safe,” Iolo frowned, staring at the vertical metal ladder.

“Sure, done it drunk.  But why is everyone coming here?  How’d this become the meeting spot,” Bastian mumbled before turning to cough into his shoulder.  Iolo offered the soda bottle to him but Bastian just shook his head and closed his eyes.

“Because this is where the sick guy is,” Iolo said, opting to put the bottle down on the crate labelled ‘Oranges from Florida’ and, figuring Bastian would be out of it in a minute, flipped open his bag and pulled out his earmarked copy of The Return of the Native.  Sure enough, Bastian managed a soft half-hum before he dropped off and Iolo flipped to Chapter One, page one and settled in for a quiet afternoon, with music playing so softly he couldn’t make out the words.

Three chapters later the music stopped and instantly a hand emerged from the thick blanket and started groping around.

“Need something,” Iolo asked, amused.

“No music.  Need music,” came the barely-audible reply.

“Alright, hold on.”  Iolo moved around and nudged the discarded cellphone into Bastian’s reach.  The phone and hand disappeared into the fabric and then the guitar strumming started again and Bastian pushed himself up, curling into the corner of the couch and looking over at Iolo like he’d forgotten the other man was there.  “So, who’s singing,” Iolo asked since it looked like Bastian was awake for now.

“Ed.”

“Ed?  Like Cher?”

“Like Sheeran,” Bastian blinked.  “You work at a radio station and you don’t know Ed Sheeran?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to curate songs,” Iolo admitted with a shrug.

“Well, la te da,” Bastian drawled although it came out too stuffy to be effective.  “Mr. Fancy too big to make a set.”

“I get no respect around here,” Iolo laughed, sitting back down on the sofa to left of Bastian’s.

“I don’t care.  You don’t sign my checks,” Bastian smiled, voice linting up and Iolo laughed.

“Not yet, so watch what you say.”

“Oh, is there some backdoor scheming?  Gonna oust Lando House of Cards-style?”

“Obviously.  As Ibrahim knows, I can’t be trusted,” Iolo said, although some irritation leaked through.

“Don’t stress about it.  He’s, like, weirdly protective,” Bastian shrugged, sinking further into his nest.

“Does everyone who visits this building get the third degree?”

“You must’ve caught him on his way in.  He doesn’t just, stand in the lobby waiting to pounce.”

“Good to know,” Iolo muttered as he picked his book up, intending to bookmark it for later.

“Ya know, since you’re already here,” Bastian started, tone almost too casual to be casual, “you could…sit closer.”

Iolo blinked, eyes going to the obvious space that Bastian had made on his couch.  “Yeah, okay,” he said, shifting from blue to yellow with his book.  He settled back, glancing over at Bastian, but the younger man had his eyes closed again so Iolo let it go.  He had barely gotten to the bottom of the page when he felt a slight pressure against his thigh.  Glancing down he saw Bastian’s toe peeking out from under the blanket and pressing ever so slightly against his leg.  Could be unintentional, but Iolo suspected it wasn’t.  Adjusting, Iolo tilted his leg to rest over Bastian’s outstretched toe and pretended to go back to the book.  About thirty seconds later, Bastian’s foot wormed its way under Iolo’s thigh and Iolo said, “You know, since I’m already here…you could sit closer.”

Bastian’s eyes popped open, like he hadn’t expected Iolo to notice.  “Really,” he asked nasally.  Iolo shrugged and lifted his right arm to rest over the top of the couch.  Feeling a little like he was on a nature show, trying to convince a chipmunk to sit in his hand, Iolo waited a few seconds, glancing down at the worn cover of the book in his left hand before he felt the couch cushion shift and Bastian was next to him.  “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Maybe,” Iolo allowed, wondering if he should look at the other man or continue to play this off like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.  “But my immune system is pretty solid.  Plus, I have sick days saved up from the past couple years so…”

“I’m kinda gross,” Bastian mumbled, drawing his legs to his chest and hovering his body just inches away from Iolo’s.

“I think I can handle ‘gross,’” Iolo smiled, glancing over in time to see an almost too-relieved expression flash across Bastian’s face before he nestled against Iolo’s side, head drooping to rest on the cushy area between Iolo’s collar bone and breastbone.  Going on nothing but instinct, Iolo slid his right arm down to curl around Bastian’s shoulders and gently began rubbing his thumb in small circles against the blanketed arm.  “You could’ve said you wanted a cuddle,” Iolo mentioned, flipping his book over and holding it open between his leg and left hand.

“Thought it might be weird,” Bastian murmured back, breath warm and heavy against Iolo’s shirt and eyes blinking slow.

And it probably was, on some level.  This was more physical contact than Iolo generally initiated outside of…well, sex.  There had been full-fledge relationships that never got to this point of casual cuddling in Iolo’s experience.  But it was…nice.  Better than it probably should be, seeing as the other participant was sick to the point of unconsciousness.  Iolo briefly wondered if he was overstepping a line; he was positive he shouldn’t actively be enjoying the fact that Bastian was already half-asleep on his chest with a raging fever…  “I’m okay with a little weird,” he said quietly after too much time had passed.            

“Okay,” Bastian breathed back and Iolo knew the younger man hadn’t heard what he said.  And it didn’t really matter anyway.

*****

“We come bearing meds and food,” Finn announced loudly, turning to nod his thanks at Ibrahim for letting them in (but the landlord was already retreating down the stairs) and then following Poe into the loft and kicking the door closed behind him with a bang.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” came a startled shout from Iolo, who shot up on the middle loveseat, hair sticking up on one side and his green-blue eyes wide and alert.

“Tell ‘im to come back later,” came a more garbled comment and, curious, Finn left his bags and Poe by the door and made his way over.  Iolo was struggling to sit up while Bastian seemed to have curled himself into a ball of blankets on top of him.

“Uh, are we interrupting something,” Poe asked playfully, coming to stand next to Finn.

“Yeah, a nap,” Iolo replied firmly, finally getting his arms around Bastian’s waist and hauling him to lay on the other end of the couch.  “Do you have the thermometer?  I think he’s getting worse.”

“Your hair,” Poe pointed out, smirking.  Iolo rolled his eyes but hastily tried to comb his hair back into place with his fingers and stood up.

“Alright, my appearances aside, do you have a thermometer or not?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve got your damn thermometer,” Poe laughed, digging into the Walgreen’s bag in his hand and tossing a small box over to his friend.

“Hey, Bastian,” Finn cooed, petting the top of the man’s head that was barely exposed by the blankets.  “How are you feeling?”

“Swell,” Bastian’s said, voice muffled.  “How ‘bout you, babe?”

“I’m good,” Finn smiled.  “When did you start feeling sick?”

“When I woke up and I was sick,” Bastian sassed and Iolo snorted, unwrapping the thermometer from its plastic wrappings and turning it on with a beep.

“Okay, stick that under your tongue,” Iolo ordered, holding the instrument out.

“Kinky.  I dig it,” Bastian mumbled, hand sneaking out to grasp the thermometer and take it back into the folds of the blanket.

“How’d you two get in here,” Iolo asked, heading off the comments Bastian’s words would have elicited from a clearly delighted Poe.

“His landlord let us up,” Poe answered as he gave Iolo a scrutinizing once-over.

“What,” Iolo snapped incredulously, causing Poe and Finn to jump back startled and the comforter covering Bastian to shake with muffled giggles.  “Ibrahim let you in?!”

“Yeah,” Poe said hesitantly.  “Do you know him?”

“He—that’s—the fucking guardian at the gate wouldn’t let me in without a background check,” Iolo groaned.  “But he just took you up and unlocked the fucking door for you?”

“To be fair,” Finn interjected smiling, “he knows me.”

“Finn, I’m pretty sure they’d let you into the White House without a second thought,” Iolo assured.  “But how is Poe less-threatening than me?!”

There was a rapid double-beep and then Bastian said, “Always the ones you least expect.”

“Jeez, thanks,” Iolo groused, taking the thermometer that Bastian’s hand offered up.  Iolo glanced down at the numbers and then squinted.  “That can’t be right.”

“What’s it say,” Finn asked, shuffling around to stand next to Iolo.  “Holy shit.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Poe teased, reaching down to squeeze Bastian’s shoulder tight in greeting.

“101.4,” Iolo answered.  “Are you sure you put it in your mouth?”

“Not sure I like what you’re implying,” Bastian scolded, head poking out of the blanket as he struggled to sit up.  “Are you saying I don’t know my mouth from my ass?”

Iolo shook his head.  “This is dangerously high, Bastian.”

“Right, Nyquil it is,” Bastian nodded and then grimaced, sinking down onto his back.  “In the kitchen.”

“I take it we’re settling in for the night,” Poe asked Iolo while Finn walked over to the kitchen area.

“Someone will have to stay and monitor, right,” Iolo asked back.  “If you and Finn have plans--,”

“Please, like Finn would leave.  It could be his wedding day and if he heard Bastian was sick he’d abandon the altar.”

“God, that’s a lot of pressure to never get sick again,” Bastian grumbled between them, arm slung over his eyes.  “So what, you’re just gonna stand around and watch me all night?”

Poe and Iolo exchanged a quick look and shrugged at each other.

“When did you take the Dayquil,” Finn called from the kitchen, holding up the used dosage cup like it was criminal evidence.

“Dunno,” Bastian sighed, kicking the blanket down his legs.

“Try and guess,” Poe pressed, bracing his hands against the back of the mustard couch and looking down at the sick man.  “We don’t want to overdose you by accident.”

“But we have no problem overdosing you on purpose,” Iolo drawled, earning an eyeroll from Poe but a giggle from Bastian.

“I dunno…right before Lo texted me,” Bastian said, waving his hand lazily towards the man.

“So about four hours ago,” Iolo told Finn, who frowned down at the Nyquil bottle in his hand.

“That’s it,” Bastian asked, moaning.  “Been sick for years.”

“Says to wait six hours between doses,” Finn said, sounding genuinely saddened by the information.

“Don’t care.  Wanna sleep,” Bastian mumbled, holding up a hand and make grab-y motions.

“Actually, that stuff might be a bad idea,” Poe said, pulling out his cellphone.  “I think it’s just suppressants.”

“Sounds good.  Suppress me, babe,” Bastian groaned, rolling onto his stomach.

“Has he been this dramatic the whole time,” Poe asked Iolo with a smirk.

“Nah, he was mostly sleeping,” Iolo shrugged.  “If we shouldn’t give him suppressants, what’re our options?

“Wait until his fever breaks,” Poe replied, reading from his screen.  “If it gets to 102 we should take him to urgent care or the hospital.”

“Fun,” Bastian huffed, now struggling against the comforter which was wrapped snake-like around his ankles.  Iolo watched for a moment before grabbing a loose corner and dragging the entire blanket off.  “T’anks,” Bastian mumbled, taking it from Iolo’s hands and bundling the blanket up, shoving it under his head.

“So we can’t give him anything,” Finn asked, walking back over.

“I mean, he can eat and stuff,” Poe said quickly, putting his phone away.  “I’m not saying we should throw out the Geneva Conventions over this.”

“Does this come under the ICC,” Iolo asked concerned, trying to remember the one international law class he had taken with Poe in college because he had been told it would be ‘fun and easy.’

“Technically, yes,” Finn allowed, thinking it over.  “We’re basically holding him hostage and withholding medicine.”

“Give me my damn Nyquil and I won’t press charges,” Bastian mumbled with his face shoved against the blanket.  The three men standing glanced amongst each other before Poe and Finn nodded and Iolo sighed, hand settling on the back of Bastian’s neck and rubbing lightly.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” Iolo said, earning a long, agonized moan from Bastian.

“But we have wine and bagel bites,” Finn smiled, jerking his thumb at the bags he’d left abandoned by the front door.

“Oh.  Well, if there’s wine and bagel bites, how bad can it be,” Iolo asked sarcastically, continuing to massage the sick man’s lower neck.

“It’s red,” Poe offered with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t gild the lily, Poe.  Bastian, you want the music back,” Iolo asked softly.

“Need Ed,” was the garbled response.

“Ed?  Is he hallucinating?  Like a fever dream,” Finn asked, reaching over to rest a palm on the sweaty sliver of forehead that Bastian hadn’t buried into his burgundy blanket.

“Sheeran.  Come on, Finn, get with the times,” Iolo dead-panned, which got a sudden, surprised laugh from Bastian and, since that was the point, Iolo was satisfied.

Chapter Text

All things considered, Iolo was pretty pleased with how the week turned out.  He gave himself another once-over in his full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door as he rolled the cuffs of his dark blue button down.  He’d opted for black jeans rather than dress pants—dress pants seemed like the better choice for a first date but, having gone through the extent of Bastian’s clothes last weekend looking for “the gray sweater—no, the other one” Iolo thought it would be wiser to err casual.

Bastian’s fever had broken some point around three on Sunday morning, while Finn, Poe, and Iolo finished the second bottle of wine and realized they all sucked at Pictionary.

**Flashback**

“I don’t know,” Poe groaned, staring at the large pad of paper Finn was standing beside with a Sharpie.  “Is it ‘Game of Thrones’?”

Finn sent Poe a singularly unimpressed look as he pointed at his drawing again with the marker.  Iolo squinted at the stick figure with either fluffy clown hair or elephant ears and the arrow pointing from the stick man’s head to a box or maybe a chair.

“Dumbo,” Iolo asked, knocking back the last of his wine from an actual wine glass.  Strangely enough Bastian had a remarkable collection of kitchen and dining wares.  Judging by Finn’s exasperated hands tossed over his head, Iolo had something dumb, but Iolo wasn’t bothered.  Finn hadn’t gotten Ghost Rider from Iolo’s masterpiece (“I didn’t have Ghost Rider in the woods!” “Sorry, Finn, but there’s no alternate rules for guys who were locked in a cabin for their adolescence”).  The alarm went off on Iolo’s phone and he said, “Bas, wake up.  Fever check.”

Bastian made no sign of waking so Iolo shook the arm draped across his chest, keeping his slightly pinned to the side of the mustard yellow couch.  Rousing with a hum, Bastian’s eyes blinked blurrily open, face close to Iolo’s.  “Whu?”

“Fever,” Iolo repeated, taking the thermometer from Poe’s outstretched hand and holding it up for the sick man.

“Still here,” Bastian mumbled, taking the instrument all the same and turning it on.  He glanced around groggily, taking in the empty wine bottles and plates before looking over at Finn’s doodle.  “Van Gogh,” he said and then shoved the thermometer into his mouth and rolled onto his back, freeing Iolo but he didn’t move.

“Yes!  Finally,” Finn whined, throwing the marker at Poe.  “How could you not get that?”

Poe looked up at Finn like he had lost his mind.  “Are you crazy?  How the hell is that Van Gogh?”

“His ear in a box,” Finn stressed, pointing at the arrow going from the ear to what was a box, apparently.  “Bastian got it!”

“Because he can read your mind,” Poe shot back, even as he broke into giggles, rubbing a hand over his eyes.  “Fucking ear in a box.”

A double beep and the thermometer was thrust towards Iolo, who took it without comment.  “I know all about temperamental artists,” Bastian sighed, stretching to pull his blanket back on.

“If you tell me Jamie cut off his ear for you,” Iolo started, mostly joking.  Thank God, Bastian burst out laughing.

“No, but that would’ve sucked,” Bastian replied, nasally. 

“Do I know who Jamie is,” Poe asked Finn.

“No, but it’s okay,” Finn answered conspiratorially.

“My dead former boyfriend,” Bastian said casually.  “You’re sorry, I’m fine, it was a long time ago, and yes, I’ve had this conversation a lot.”

“Good news,” Iolo interjected, answering Poe’s questioning look with a small headshake, “your temperature went down.  101.6 now.”

“Huzzah,” Bastian grumbled.  “Can I have my drugs now?”

“Nope, but you can have more ginger ale,” Poe offered, stretching his arms above his head.  “And we can finally go to sleep.”

“Ginger ale is gross,” Bastian complained even as he accepted the bottle from Finn and took a swallow.  “If you’re staying, pull out the beds,” he instructed before rolling onto his side and closing his eyes again.

**End of flashback**

Bastian had tried to go in for his overnight shift on Sunday, but the combined efforts of Finn threatening to delete all of Bastian’s sets and Rey calling from the station and stating in no uncertain terms that she was taking over had kept Bastian from leaving.  Iolo had been reluctant to leave Sunday night but Bastian had just rolled his eyes and promised not to climb the Ladder of Doom (Iolo’s words, justified he felt) to his bed until his fever was completely gone (and Finn had told Iolo in whispered undertones that Bastian never broke his promises).  Bastian was back at work for Capitally Curious on Wednesday and Iolo had buried any remaining nerves he had around the younger, completely mind-boggling man and had asked if he was down to give that single-date a try on Saturday night.

Iolo checked the time on his alarm clock and then did one final attempt at smoothing down the one errant lock of hair behind his right ear that was sticking out like a wing.  There was always something.  He tried to twist it behind his ear to no effect and gave up, heading out of his bedroom and moving to the front door, pausing to slip on his loafers and grab his wallet and keys.  Whistling mindlessly to himself, he locked the door behind him and headed for the stairs down to the garage.  He didn’t get to drive much, usually didn’t bother except when one of his friends needed help moving or, more recently, when Poe bought a giant rabbit and managed to get stranded in the Shenandoah Valley and called for help from a payphone at a gas station he had found.  That had been a very long night, Iolo remembered with a smile as he skipped down the last few steps and bumped the door open with his hip and shoulder.

Iolo:

Be there is ten.  Meet me outside?

Iolo unlocked the door of his car and slid in, adjusting the seat back since he didn’t have a crate of rabbit food in the backseat anymore.  His phone buzzed with a text and Iolo opened it with a slide of his thumb.

Bastian:

Sure.  We late?

Iolo:

No, you’ll see.

God, Iolo forgot how much he liked to drive.  Even city driving, as slow and frustrating as it was, was bearable if the car was right.  Although the conspiracy of stoplights kept Iolo from making it up to Bastian’s apartment building in the promised ten minutes, but the look of abject shock on the younger man’s face when he looked up from his phone from where he was leaning against a street light (straight out of a movie poster, Iolo swore, in a perfectly fitted white button-up and dark blue jeans) was worth it.

“Who the hell did you steal this from,” Bastian gaped, approaching the passenger door of the Audi Spyder with trepidation.  “Or do I not wanna know?”

Iolo laughed, reaching over and popping the door open for Bastian to slide into.  “I didn’t steal it.  I didn’t even have to sell my body for it.”

“That was my second guess,” Bastian admitted, buckling his seatbelt and looking around the interior almost nervously. 

“It’s everyone’s second guess,” Iolo smiled, flicking on his left turn signal and merging back onto the road.  “My uncle left it to me.”

“Oh.  Did he…” Bastian trailed off, sitting a bit too straight.

“Nah, he moved to Thailand.  State Department,” Iolo added with a shrug.

“Sure.  State Department.  I hear ya,” Bastian teased, shooting a wink over at the older man who rolled his eyes.

“Actually the State Department.  Not the Agency.”

Bastian hummed, clearly not convinced but Iolo wasn’t having this argument again.  Why did everyone assume his uncles was in the fucking CIA?  “So, where are you taking me, Mr. Bond?”

Iolo swallowed nervously, because honestly, he had picked the place based off nothing but a single food order and he was nervous he read the whole thing wrong.  “Well, you have two choices,” he started, slowly.  “There’s this rum bar in Rockville that I thought maybe--,”

“There’s a rum bar I haven’t been to,” Bastian asked, placing his hand over his heart from dramatics.  “I have to fix that right now, dude.”

“Great,” Iolo grinned, relaxing, taking the first exit for the Beltway.  “It looked pretty good.  Cuban food.”

“I’m a sucker for Cuban food,” Bastian said, finally settling back into his seat and stretching his legs out.  “So, my aunt married this guy from Cuba and I used to spend summers with them down in the Keys.”

“That sounds amazing,” Iolo smiled, thinking this was the first time the younger man had volunteered information without being asked.  It was weird: Bastian came across as the pinnacle of an open book.  Just ask, and he’ll tell you anything you wanted to know.  But that was the thing: ask.  And Iolo was a little mad that it took him months to even try. 

“Yeah, it was.  I’m, like, the youngest, ya know?  Youngest cousin, youngest nephew, youngest grandkid.  So I got passed around a lot.  Burden-sharing basically.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t like that,” Iolo chuckled, glancing over at Bastian, who was turning his phone over by pressing it against his leg and sliding his fingers down it before turning it and repeating the motions.

“Well, not exactly like that,” Bastian allowed, flashing a quick grin over to the driver.  “But I definitely thought it was normal not to see your parents from June to September.  And it was probably cheaper than camp.”

Iolo blinked at that, focusing back on the road as he started looking for the sign for their exit.  “Did your brother go with you?”

Bastian’s whole face lit up and Iolo did a double-take.  “Yeah, Micah would fly out sometimes.  He was older, so he had summer jobs and all that.  But he’d would try to get a few days off and he’d visit me wherever I was at the time.  The Keys or Alabama or Texas.  That was the best; it was like Christmas in July, literally.  He’d bring books or toys or whatever and I’d drag him around to all these random places I’d been dragged to, but Micah didn’t mind.  He’s cool like that.”

Iolo nodded, flicking on his right turn signal as the exit for Rockville appeared around the bend.  “You’ve had an interesting life, haven’t you,” he asked, almost rhetorically.

“Hasn’t everyone,” Bastian asked, turning to look at Iolo with a bright smile and wide eyes.  Iolo found himself smiling and shaking his head with a shrug.

*****

“And the only thing I wanted in the world was a sailboat,” Iolo continued, leaning back in his seat and crossing his ankles underneath the clothed table.  “I nagged my parents about it for months and finally Dad says that I can go out with his friend Frankie in his sailboat for a day.  Frankie was going to teach me the ropes—literally, it turns out.”

“Yeah, sailboats are no joke,” Bastian said, smiling and reaching for his glass of pomegranate-ginger mojito.

“You’ve been on some,” Iolo asked.

“Once or twice, as a kid.  Never tried to steer one though.”

“Well it’s impossible,” Iolo said flatly.  “We didn’t even make it into the harbor before I nearly capsize the damn thing.  And Frankie’s just laughing, saying I’m ‘nearly there now!’”  Iolo paused to enjoy Bastian’s laughter, ignoring the glances the other stragglers shot their way.  “Thus ended my dreams of either being a pirate or a naval officer.”

“Of course you wanted to join the navy,” Bastian rolled his eyes and smiled somewhat exasperatedly.

“Didn’t every kid?”

“Nope,” Bastian chuckled.  “Not me.  Not ever.”

“Well, I gave it up pretty quick,” Iolo shrugged.  “Turned out the only reason I wanted to take to the seas was because of all the stories I read about it.  It wasn’t so much the sea as the story—the adventure.  So I started trying to write my own.”

“And here you are,” Bastian grinned.

“Here I am,” Iolo echoed, spreading his arms.  “I think it was the better decision, all things told.”

“Why’s that,” Bastian asked, finishing his second mojito of the night with a gulp.

“I probably wouldn’t have met you if I’d joined the navy,” Iolo replied, aiming for sappy but the look Bastian sent his way was mischievous.

“You might’ve met me sooner if you went the naval officer route, actually.”

“You just said--,”

“You would’ve gone to Annapolis,” Bastian continued, slowly gesturing with his hands as he set the scene.  “And you would’ve been required to take Lieutenant Johnson’s Fundamentals of Seamanship.  And you would’ve been an A-student—obviously—so he would’ve invited you with the other smart kids to Sunday dinner.  And you would have met his eldest son, who you would’ve liked, and his younger son, who would’ve tried to talk to you ‘cause you’re pretty but he would’ve embarrassed himself in the first five minutes and spent the rest of the day hiding up the oak tree in the backyard.”

Iolo blinked a couple times.  “Are you messing with me?”

“Not even a little,” Bastian said, almost regretfully.  “The number of afternoons I spent up that damn tree ‘cause I said something stupid to a plebe.”

“That’s adorable,” Iolo breathed.

“It wasn’t at the time,” Bastian grimaced, eyes focused on his empty glass.

Iolo stretched out his foot to nudge the younger man’s.  “I would’ve thought it was cute then.”

“I wasn’t a cute kid.  Or teenager.  Really didn’t get pass a generous 5 ranking until I was twenty.”

“Well, if we’re comparing ugly duckling stages,” Iolo said kindly, leaning forward, “let’s just say red hair, freckles, braces, and stripped sweaters wasn’t a winning combination for me.”

Bastian cracked a smile at that, glancing across at the older man.  “Freckles are always cute though.”

“Yeah?  Want to tell that to Lizzy Winters who said they looked like dried boogers on my face?”

And the heartfelt, shoulder-shaking, eyes squeezed shut laugh was back and Iolo joined in because it was impossible not to.  “Oh God, that’s—that’s—freaking hysterical, dude!”

“I mean, now it is,” Iolo allowed, still smiling.  “At the time I kinda just wished she hadn’t written it in my Valentine’s Day card.”

“She didn’t.”

“She absolutely did,” Iolo shook his head.  “I put a worm in her lunchbox and called it even.”

“Naturally.  That’s classic second-grade revenge rules right there,” Bastian teased.  “I remember this one time--,”

“Hold that thought,” Iolo winced, scrambling for his vibrating phone.  “Sorry, someone’s calling me.  I’ll just--,”

“It’s fine.  I’ll be here,” Bastian shrugged, shifting to look around the restaurant and give Iolo some privacy.  Iolo appreciated the thought even though his plan was to decline the call no matter what.  Except…’Incoming from POE DAMERON.’  Iolo glanced over at Bastian, who was politely ignoring him, and accepted the call.

“Better be urgent, Dameron,” he muttered into the phone, which drew Bastian’s attention back fast.

“Someone broke into Finn’s apartment,” Poe answered, voice pitched high in nervousness.

“What?”

“We just got back.  He’s on the phone with the police.  He’s really calm—like, this is the guy you want in an emergency--,”

“Can we get back to the fact that someone broke into Finn’s apartment,” Iolo asked drily, although he shot a sympathetic grimace Bastian’s way, who’s eyes went wide at his words.

“Alex,” Bastian called, holding up his finger for their waiter, “can we pay real quick?”

“The place is a mess,” Poe said as Iolo tried to fish his wallet out of his back pocket while keeping the phone to his ear.  Bastian beat him to it and handed his debit card over to Alex, who hurried away.  “Trashed, ya know?  Couch is flipped over, books thrown everywhere.  Cat is okay though.  Just kinda jumpy, which makes sense--,”

“Was it a robbery,” Iolo asked, trying to keep Poe focused as Alex returned with their check for Bastian to sign.

“I don’t know—probably?  He said not to touch anything until the police came,” Poe said quickly.

“Who’s ‘he’?  Finn,” Iolo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Iolo nodded, getting to his feet in time with Bastian.  “We’re on our way.”

“You’re still with Bastian,” Poe asked, surprise leaking into his otherwise dazed-sounding voice.

“Yeah, we’re on a date,” Iolo replied, leading the way out of the restaurant, glancing back to make sure Bastian was following.  He was.

“It’s almost eleven,” Poe said, sounding almost amused.  “Must have been some dinner.”

“Whatever,” Iolo rolled his eyes.  “Just stay calm until we get there.  And listen to Finn—sounds like he knows what to do.”

“He always knows what to do,” Poe answered fondly.

Iolo ended the call with a quick, “You’re disgusting.  Not you,” he added hastily to the younger man standing beside him outside the rounded glass doors.

“Kinda figured that,” Bastian mumbled, texting quickly on his cell.  “You wanna see how fast that car of yours can go?”

“Within reason,” Iolo agreed, clicking the unlock button and the Audi’s lights flashed in response across the street.  “Texting Finn?”

“Yeah.  And Rey.  She’s closer to him; she’ll get there first,” Bastian explained, not looking up from his screen as he started following Iolo across the street and the older man huffed and took his arm to keep him from running into anything.  “This kid can’t catch a break, I’m telling ya.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out,” Iolo muttered, not sure if he meant Bastian or Finn at this point as he climbed into the car.  Bastian fell into the passenger seat a second later and Iolo pulled out of the parking spot in one smooth motion.  “It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, you and Finn salvaged that leak mess,” Bastian teased, putting his phone away and winking over at Iolo.  “This should be a piece of cake.”

*****

“Thank God,” Poe gasped, throwing his arms around Iolo’s neck as soon as he reached the third floor.  “It’s a fucking mess.”

“Have you heard anything from the police,” Iolo asked, hugging his friend back tightly.  Bastian slapped Poe on the back and then moved over to where Rey was lurking by the open door to Finn’s apartment, watching police march in and out.

“They’re talking with Finn still.  Going room to room to see if anything’s been taken,” Poe mumbled back, fists clenching the back of Iolo’s shirt.  “And I’m out here freaking out like a baby and he’s acting like this happens once a month--,”

“He’s been trained for this, remember?  He had those classes about how to handle kidnappings,” Iolo replied, keeping his voice quiet and watching over his friend’s shoulder as Bastian and Rey murmured back and forth, lips barely moving.  “Plus, after the leak, he’s probably been expecting something like this.”

“He didn’t even want to call the police,” Poe grumbled.  “Trying to be a damn hero.”

“Or he didn’t want to be a bother,” Iolo shrugged, eyes narrowing as Rey slipped into the apartment while Bastian stopped a policewoman with a smile and a question Iolo couldn’t catch.

“Dunno why I’m the one scared shitless right now,” Poe admitted quietly against Iolo’s shoulder.

“Because you care about him and the idea that he could’ve gotten hurt scares the shit out of you,” Iolo replied easily, watching Rey emerge with a small black cat in her arms, which took one look at Bastian and jumped for him.  Bastian caught the animal against his chest and then helped it up to his shoulder, which it curled around like a shawl and stayed.  “It’s normal, Poe.”

“But he’s fine,” Poe grumbled.

“Look, I don’t know,” Iolo sighed as Rey and Bastian went back to their clearly private discussion.  “Maybe he’s covering the fact that he’s freaked out too.  Maybe he’s running on adrenaline from the shock.  Maybe this does happen to him once a month--,” that at least got a snort out of Poe, “—but you’re allowed to feel how you feel, and be supportive at the same time and it’s fine.  Okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“See, the problem is,” Poe said, pulling back and rubbing his eyes, “that I’ve heard you say that when there’s been a literal fire in our kitchen.”

“I put it out,” Iolo defended, smiling and ruffling Poe’s hair.  “Everything was fine.”

“Everything was toasted.”

“That too,” Iolo shrugged.  By now the last of the police unit seemed to be clearing out, and Finn appeared in his doorway to shake hands with the policeman in charge.  “Looks like they’re wrapping up,” Iolo told Poe, who turned back in time to see Finn offer the police inspector a tight smile and handshake before leaning against his doorframe as the inspector walked away.

“Are you okay,” was the first thing out of Poe’s mouth and Finn’s smiled softened as he looked over.

“Yeah.  Looks like nothing was taken.  No one tried to break into the safe either.”

“So they just broke in, threw stuff around, and left,” Iolo asked, skepticism heavy in his voice.

“Weirder things have happened,” Bastian interjected, sending a bright smile Finn’s way, who narrowed his eyes in response.  “Since we’re all here and your cat thinks I’m a bed, cleaning party?”

“We could do that in the morning,” Poe said quickly.  “I think—it’s been a long night…maybe we should go home and sleep on it.”

Iolo wondered if anyone else caught how Finn’s face went suddenly, carefully blank.  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn nodded.  “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Wait, you don’t—you’re not staying here,” Poe frowned, waving a hand towards Finn’s place.

“Yeah, I am,” Finn shrugged, reaching up to get his cat.  “And I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I guess.”

Poe opened his mouth, probably to stick his foot in it, which Bastian seemed to catch on to and cut in, “You know what, I’m not gonna be able to sleep at night knowing your spices aren’t color-coded,” and marched into the apartment.

“Cleaning party, cleaning party,” Rey chanted, without a hint of sarcasm and Iolo got the impression he was missing something as she followed Bastian.

Sighing, Finn gestured for Poe and Iolo to enter, closing and locking the door behind them as Iolo took in the trashed apartment.  The furniture had been tossed around like toys, books and kitchenware scattered around, cushions and pillows and blankets bundled and shoved into random spaces.  If it was an attempted robbery, it was one of the goofier-looking ones in Iolo’s opinion.  Not that he’d ever seen one outside of TV, but he figured robbers didn’t usually take the time to knot the curtains together.

“Right,” Bastian announced as Zuri bounced from his shoulders to the counter, “I’ll start on the kitchen.  Rey, you’re in charge of anything heavy.”

“On it,” Rey said seriously, cracking her knuckles and moving over to where the armchair had been flipped and shoved into the bathroom.  “Good thing your dad’s out of the country, right?”

Finn hummed at that, apparently unconcerned as his friends began moving about his apartment while he worked on collecting books.  “Yeah.  Lucky.”

“Wait, you don’t think--,” Poe started.

“Anyone want a beer,” Bastian asked loudly from the kitchen where he was holding open the fridge door.  “Looks like they didn’t get this far because it’s fully stocked.”

“Toss me one,” Rey called as she pushed the righted armchair back into the living room.  At that point Iolo felt like he should be doing something so he started picking up pots and pans and utensils that had found their way into the living room.  Bastian obligingly underhand-tossed a beer bottle towards Rey, who caught it and unscrewed the cap easily.  “And I was thinking it was gonna be a boring night.  I was gonna watch Orange is the New Black reruns.”

“You could,” Finn said with a shrug, flipping through one of his books before adding it to one of the four stacks he had going.  “The TV is in the bathtub.”

“Obviously,” Bastian laughed, “where else would it go?”

“Are we actually going to do this,” Poe asked the room as a whole, watching Iolo walk by with his arms full of matching copper pots, which he passed over to Bastian.  “This is actually happening?”

“Well, I was gonna at least straighten up the bedroom,” Finn answered, looking up and blinking.  “I’ve slept on floors before and it isn’t nice.”

“You don’t think you’re sleeping here,” Poe asked, shock evident in his voice.  Iolo boosted himself up to sit on the counter, out of the way but still a spectator.  There was movement beside his and suddenly Bastian was leaning beside Iolo’s hip, torso braced by his bent elbows.

“Like watching a farce in slow-motion,” Bastian muttered, looking up at Iolo with a smirk.

“Exactly,” Iolo agreed, wondering how he could be the writer but Bastian had all the words.

“You said everyone should go home,” Finn was saying, crossing his arms.  “This is my home.”

“I meant everyone else,” Poe groaned, rubbing his fingers against his temples.  “Of course you’re not staying here.”

“Why not,” Finn asked, eyes narrowing.

“Because it was a scene of a crime a few hours ago!”

“Rule One,” Rey whispered, moving to stand beside Iolo, “never try to change Finn’s mind.”

“What, so you thought I’d just wander the streets because I’m too scared to be in my own apartment?”

“No, I thought you’d come home with me,” Poe blurted out in annoyance before he caught on to what he was saying and clenched his jaw shut.  There was a long beat of silence before Rey mentioned,

“Or, I mean, you could stay at mine.  They have a pretty strict pet policy but for one night it should be fine.”

“Well, if we’re going that route,” Bastian’s voice came from Iolo’s other side, “mine’s free and Ibrahim loves cats.”

Finn’s “I’m not going anywhere” was drowned out by Iolo’s and Poe’s loud “No!”

There was another pause where Iolo ignored the sharp looks he could feel drilling into him from either side.  Then Bastian straightened and said slowly, “I’m not sure I like how quick you two were to dismiss that option.”

“Yeah,” Finn drew out.  “I mean, I’m staying here and that’s final, but I could stay with Bastian if I wanted to.”

“No, that’s—we’re not saying that,” Iolo mumbled, head bowed.  “It’s—well—look, that place is a deathtrap and you know it.”

“Oh my God,” Bastian groaned.  “It’s not a deathtrap.  I’ve lived there six years and never even got a splinter!”

“There’s no railings,” Poe pitched in and Iolo flashed him a grateful smile.  “If you slipped in that loft you’d fall about twelve feet.  There’s no fire escape--,”

“Yeah, there is,” Bastian cut in quickly.

“Not outside your windows,” Iolo shot back, careful to keep his voice calm.

“What, you checked?”

“Obviously I did,” Iolo said, turning to face Bastian straight on, fully sitting on the counter. 

“And don’t get me started on the bathroom,” Poe continued, apparently finding a subject he could get into.  “It’s a miracle that place ever passed inspection.”

A flash of something crossed Bastian’s eyes and Iolo scooted himself closer to the younger man.  “Bastian,” Iolo started gently, “has your apartment passed inspection?”

“Yeah, sure it has,” Bastian rushed out with a wide smile.  “It’s DC: Land of Regulations, right?  Ibrahim would’ve been shut down if everything wasn’t by the books.  And how did the crime scene apartment suddenly become the less-talked-about apartment in all this?”

He wasn’t lying, Iolo could tell that, but something was off.

“Out of curiosity,” Rey said, drumming her fingers against the counter, “has it passed apartment inspections?”

Bastian swallowed, clearly debating something with himself while four sets of eyes bore into him.  “As a matter of fact, it’s not listed as an apartment so…”

“What the hell is it listed as,” Finn snapped.

“Okay, I’m gonna need everyone to take a breath,” Bastian huffed, holding out his hands as Iolo slid off the counter and took a step towards the fidgety man.  “Can we discuss how Finn’s dishtowels have been tied to look like a penis?”

“After you tell us what your apartment is,” Iolo said, although he did glance down and had to agree: those were phallic dishtowels.

“It’s a storage space, okay?  But I’ve lived there for six years and--,”

“For God’s sake, Bastian,” Finn groaned, shaking his head.

“—and I haven’t died,” Bastian finished, turning away from the others.  “Can we back to sorting this mess out and letting Poe try to convince Finn to go home with him?”

“Actually, do you know what tonight is,” Rey asked.

“Saturday,” Iolo and Poe replied simultaneously.

Rey rolled her eyes.  “Thank you, Messieurs Dameron and Arana, for the calendar check.  But tonight is National Don’t Leave Your Boyfriend Alone in Unsafe Living Spaces Night.”

“Then we’ll just leave them to it,” Bastian said, quick and relieved, starting to dodge out of the kitchen but Iolo’s hand shot out and pressed, palm flat, against the younger man’s chest, holding him in place.

“Tell us more, Rey,” Iolo implored, giving Bastian a hard look.

“Well, we all know Finn’s not going to leave ‘cause he’s stubborn as hell,” Rey shrugged, and Finn sighed and scratched his ear.  “That means Poe isn’t leaving.  And Iolo’s not going to let Bastian go back to his storage space--,”

“You didn’t care when you slept there last weekend,” Bastian grumbled under his breath.

“I had other things to worry about,” Iolo muttered back, keeping his gaze steady even while Bastian’s eyes darted around.

“—so why don’t we just stay here,” Rey finished with a flourish, flicking her wrists like she was Cinderella’s fairy godmother.

“We,” Finn asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Like I’m missing out on this,” Rey grinned.  “I call dibs on the guest bed!”

“It’s not the worst idea,” Poe allowed, hands in his pockets and shooting nervous glances in Finn’s direction.  “I could take the pull-out bed if…if that’s okay with everyone.”

Finn sucked in his lips before looking over at Bastian, still boxed into the kitchen.  “What the hell, sure.  Sleepover.  Woot.”

“Woot,” Bastian echoed, equally underwhelmed.

“Yes,” Rey fist pumped.  “This is gonna be the best!”

Iolo and Poe caught each other’s eye and shared sympathetic winces.  Clearly this was not how any of them hoped the night would end.     

Chapter Text

**A Few Hours Later**

Iolo tried the handle of the bathroom door, not questioning why it was unlocked before he let himself in and closed it behind him.

“Um,” Bastian blinked, holding a towel loosely between his hands.  “Can I help you?”

“It was his cousin, right,” Iolo asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door.

“What?”

“That hacker cousin of his destroyed his apartment,” Iolo clarified, keeping his voice low.

“I dunno,” Bastian replied, tossing one end of the towel up and over the shower curtain rod and straightening it out.

“You know something,” Iolo pressed.  “That’s why you and Rey closed ranks back there.  And that’s why Finn didn’t want to call the police.  But Poe was here and freaked out and Finn had to choose between explaining whatever the hell this is to Poe or giving in and hoping the police didn’t ask too many questions.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone into naval intelligence,” Bastian muttered.

“Bastian--,”

“I don’t know, okay?  I don’t--,” Bastian cut off as Iolo shushed him, nodding to the closed door.  Bastian ground his teeth together and inhaled deeply.  “I don’t know,” he continued, quieter.  “There are some things above my paygrade and I don’t ask about them and I was never good at Clue anyway.”

“You weren’t surprised tonight.  You weren’t freaking out,” Iolo urged.  “Fuck, does this actually happen once a month?”

“What?  No,” Bastian shook his head.  “If it was that often I might’ve asked about it.”

“For God’s sake--,”

“It’s happened once,” Bastian said, so softly Iolo almost missed it.  “Over a year ago.  The three of us came back from a movie and the place was destroyed, like frat party out of control.  Finn didn’t want to call the police so we didn’t.  He said nothing was taken.  We straightened everything out and ordered pizza.”

“And neither of you asked any questions,” Iolo asked, disbelief heavy in his voice.

“Look, asking questions with those two doesn’t get you anywhere,” Bastian said, shifting his weight.  “You’ve gotta let them come to you, and if they don’t then that’s that.”

“So, what?  You fixed up the apartment, ate pizza, and never spoke of it again?”

“Well,” Bastian drew out, picking at the towel hung beside him, “yes and no.”  Iolo’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and Bastian sighed.  “A few days later Finn—went off the grid for a while.  He’d started acting funny, like he was trying to shut me out.  And Rey.  Then we didn’t hear from him for two days, which was weird.  But he was at the studio Monday morning when my overnight ended and he had coffee and he apologized for being a jerk.  I asked where he’d gone off to and he just said he’d gone home.  Didn’t know about the whole cabin in the woods thing at the time, so maybe that’s why we couldn’t get in touch.”

“The last time there was a break-in, Finn shut everyone out,” Iolo repeated slowly.

“Like he’s trying to do now,” Bastian nodded.  “Except Rey and I won’t let him.  But Poe’s not helping.”

“Poe doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he’s scared,” Iolo defended quickly.

“We’re all scared but that doesn’t mean we’re all falling over ourselves to give Finn an excuse to kick us out,” Bastian hissed back, finally turning to face Iolo across the narrow bathroom.

“He’s trying to help,” Iolo enunciated.  “We’re all just trying to help.”

“Yeah, regular good Samaritans,” Bastian mumbled.  “Can I shower now?”

“What did that mean,” Iolo asked, eyes narrowing while Bastian’s eyes went wide.

“Nothing.  Sorry.  I’m just tired, not my best when I’m tired and sober,” Bastian said with a quick smile.  “I’m gonna shower then we can figure who’s sleeping with who and we’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Or you could tell me what’s going on.”

“I really, really don’t want to fight,” Bastian admitted to his feet.

“Who said anything about fighting,” Iolo asked before he realized exactly what it looked like: him blocking the door with his arms crossed while Bastian tried to keep as much space between them as the small room would allow.  This couldn’t be more aggressive unless Iolo had the younger man by the collar.  “Okay.  Got it.  No fighting,” Iolo corrected himself, dropping his arms and sinking down to the floor.  Bastian watched in clear confusion as Iolo sat down and scooted over to sit against the side of the tub, knees bent with his arms draped between them.

Bastian’s eyes darted from the door to Iolo before he mumbled, “What the hell,” and folded himself down to sit next to the older man, close because the tight space required it but not touching.

“Want to tell me about it,” Iolo asked, tilting his head and watching Bastian’s profile.

“For the record, I didn’t mean a physical fight,” Bastian said instead.  “Just—putting that out there.”

“Noted,” Iolo nodded.  “I’m not—I don’t do that.  Ever.”

“Noted,” Bastian echoed with a slight smile.  “Me neither.  On either end,” he stressed.  “I meant I didn’t want to argue.”

“Right.  We don’t have to do that either,” Iolo shrugged.  “But I’m here to listen if there’s something bugging you.”

Bastian’s lip twisted and reluctance practically oozed from him.  “I—wasn’t that thrilled about the whole apartment thing back there.”

Iolo blinked.  “Which apartment thing?”

“The one where you and Poe tore apart mine,” Bastian sighed.  Iolo opened his mouth to reply but the younger man continued, “I mean, I know it’s not perfect.  I’m not blind: my bathroom is basically a showerhead and a toilet but…it’s my place, ya know?  And I’ve been there six years--,”

“Shit,” Iolo breathed, realizing what that timeframe meant.  “It’s where you lived with--,”

“Please,” Bastian swallowed, “please don’t make this about Jamie.  I’ll beg you right now.”

“No, don’t—no,” Iolo shook his head.  “It’s not about Jamie.  It’s about you and your home which I dissed for no reason.  It’s about you having your space and not wanting to hear someone you barely know insult it.  And it’s not about Jamie, but it’s a place that obviously has good memories for you and you weren’t ‘thrilled’ that I tore it apart.”  Bastian gnawed on his bottom lip and Iolo smiled tightly.  “Did I get close?”

“Kinda hit it on the head,” Bastian huffed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “You’re weirdly good at that.”

“Maybe I’ve just screwed up enough times to recognize when I’m doing it again,” Iolo shrugged, drumming his fingers against his knees.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bastian said quickly.

“How about this,” Iolo offered, bumping his shoulder against Bastian’s.  “I’m not gonna say anything else about your home.”

Bastian leaned back against the older man’s shoulder.  “And?”

“And what?”

“And what do I do,” Bastian clarified.

Iolo’s brow furrowed.  “You can do whatever you want.”

“I thought this was an exchange?”

“No, this is me being wrong and trying to do something about it,” Iolo smiled.  “Sometimes one person is just wrong, you know?”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Bastian said, voice drawing out the last word teasingly.  “It’s not like I see myself growing old and raising a family in that place.”

“Really?  You don’t see yourself with three kids and a dog in that loft,” Iolo joked and Bastian giggled, leaning more fully against the older man who shifted to get his arm around Bastian’s shoulders.  “The kids can sleep in hammocks, strung up across the windows--,”

“God, no,” Bastian laughed, head dropping to Iolo’s shoulder.

“And Ibrahim will be the godfather, obviously,” Iolo continued lightly, cheek resting against Bastian’s short-cropped curls.  “And every playdate will have to fill out an application before they can come through the door.”

“He’s not that bad,” Bastian whined, still chuckling, bridge of his nose resting on the curve of Iolo’s neck.

“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true.  What do I have to bribe him with?  Cookies?  Whiskey?”

“You don’t have to bribe him at all,” Bastian replied, one arm slipped its way around Iolo’s middle loosely.  “But you'll need to come to tea with him at some point.”

“I suppose I can handle that,” Iolo sighed dramatically.  “Gotta make a good impression on your landlord obviously.”

“Obviously.”

*****

“Do you think there’s too much laughing, not enough kissing-sounds going on in there,” Rey asked Poe as he held up the television and she worked on re-attaching it to the wall.

Poe hummed, glancing over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door.  “I don’t think they’ve gotten to that point yet.”

“But they’re at the giggling-in-the-bathroom point,” Rey asked, adjusting her grip on the screwdriver and working on the final screw.

“I’m not sure I’m the person to be asking,” Poe said, shrugging awkwardly while trying to keep the TV steady.

“Well, I’ve asked Bastian and he seems interested,” Rey said, finishing the screw and leaning back.  “Like, optimistic.”

“That’s good,” Poe replied, stepping back from the TV but keeping his hands hovering below it in case it suddenly fell.  “They could balance each other out.”

“He’s good at that.  Balancing, I mean.  He’s been our fulcrum ever since we met him.  Especially Finn’s,” Rey mentioned pointedly as she replaced the screwdriver into the small tool case Finn had handed over before retreating to his bedroom.

“Great,” Poe mumbled, flopping down into the armchair and running a hand down his face, dragging his skin so it looked like his face was melting.  “What good friends.”

“Yeah, if you’re going to get jealous of Bastian I’m gonna hit you with this hammer,” Rey informed the man flatly, seriously, lifting said tool in demonstration.  “People can be friends without wanting more.”

“I’m not jealous,” Poe sighed.  Rey cocked an eyebrow and Poe added, ashamed, “Anymore.”

“Uh huh.  So why the kicked puppy look?”

“He just…shut down and walked away,” Poe said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  “I don’t get it.  Did I do something?”

Rey clicked her tongue and sat back on the floor, hands braced behind her.  “Nah, that’s just how Finn gets sometimes.  He knows that he’s acting like a jerk and he’ll come crawling back but…  He’s got more going on in his head than any of us know, ya know?  Like how he kept his family a secret for years.  And who knows what else goes on that he doesn’t tell anyone about?  Sometimes, I think, it gets all muddled and he needs to be alone to sort it out.”

“You can’t go through life cutting yourself out when things get tough,” Poe muttered, shaking his head.

“Really?  What about how Luke Skywalker up and ran away for ten years?  What about that cousin who vanished six years ago?  What about his uncle whose entire life strategy is to run when things get too hot?”  Rey paused while Poe let out a low groan.  “Maybe Finn does exactly what he’s seen his entire life.  Except for one thing: he knows it’s wrong.  So after he goes and shuts people out, he comes back and apologizes.”

“And he’s done that to you?  And Bastian?”

“Yep.  And I hated it.  Told him straight up that wouldn’t work on me,” Rey shrugged.  “Bastian and I kinda made a pact—that the next time Finn got like that we’d stay.  We wouldn’t let him disappear.”

“The cleaning party,” Poe said, glancing around the apartment.  “You knew.”

“We saw it coming.  He gets this look in his eye—like he knows more than you do,” Rey sighed.  “And if this is too much for you, you should probably do us a favor and tell him that and walk out that door.”

“Shut up,” Poe snapped, glaring down at the unconcerned woman.  “I don’t give a damn if he’s complicated.  Shit, that’s what fucking attracted me in the first place!”

“Then don’t sit here pouting—go do something about it,” Rey snapped back, pointing at the closed bedroom door.  Poe swallowed, glancing over in trepidation.

“You know what?  Fine,” Poe declared, pushing himself to his feet and moving towards the closed door separating Finn from them.  His hand was nearly on the doorknob when the bathroom door opened and Iolo slipped out, closing it behind him with a soft click.  “What did you do with Bastian,” he asked, taking stock.

“He’s gonna take a shower,” Iolo answered, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Rey wolf-whistled.  “You don’t waste time, do you?”

Poe laughed at the look of absolute insult that crushed his friend’s face.  “What’s wrong with you?  We were just talking!”

“Hey, I don’t need details,” Rey joked, holding up her hands.  “But you must talk a hell of a game if he needs a shower after.”

“Oh my God,” Iolo groaned, his head falling back against the door with a small knock.  “You have a sick mind.”

“See, that’s not denial,” Poe teased, momentarily distracted as he crossed his arms and smirked.

“Shut up,” Iolo rolled his eyes.  “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?  He’d probably be down,” Rey mused.  “He’s pretty open in general.”

“He deserves a lot more than that,” Iolo replied flatly and then blinked, as if he just realized what he said.  “Wow.  Shit.”

“Good for you, Lo,” Poe smiled.

“I…didn’t realize… When the fuck did that happen,” Iolo asked shocked.

“Got me, man.  But it looks good on you,” Poe shrugged.

“Should I tell him,” Iolo asked, eyes darting to the door behind him.

Rey snorted.  “Let the poor guy shower.  You’ve obviously told him enough tonight.”

“I will throw my shoe at you.”

“On that note,” Poe laughed, “I’m just gonna…”  And he knocked on the door before letting himself in.

“Well, join me in Honesty Corner,” Rey beamed, gesturing towards the couch.

Iolo hesitated, debating with himself for a moment, before crossing over.  “Why not?  What do you have for me?”

*****

“Poe, what’re you--,”

“Just, listen for a second,” Poe interrupted, taking in Finn curled up against his headboard, cellphone pressed against his chest and an external hard drive in his lap.  “I don’t care what’s going on.  Okay?  Wait,” Poe corrected, “I care because I care about you.  But I don’t need the details.  What bugs me is that you think you can block me out because it’s easier than telling me what’s up.  You can do whatever you need to do and you don’t have to tell me, but I’m not going away.  Got it?”

Finn’s jaw dropped.

“Fuck, tie that one down.”

Frowning, Poe looked around while Finn hissed, “Shut up, you bastard.  This is all your fault.”

“Who--,” Poe started.

“My cousin,” Finn admitted, grudgingly, holding up his phone.

“What’s up, Man with a Plan,” asked a static-y man’s voice from the phone.

Poe scowled at the phone and Finn sighed.  “Um, so, one of my cousin’s…associates--,”

“Operatives,” the voice corrected, sounding offended.

“Fuck off,” Finn shot at his phone.  “The associate dropped something off for my cousin and then took the time to destroy my place.  For shits and giggles.”

“Look, he’s cheap,” the voice muttered.

“He’s cheap ‘cause he likes to fuck with my stuff,” Finn snapped.

“He didn’t smell your boxers this time.”

“Oh my God,” Finn groaned.

“For fuck’s sake, take a joke.  Got it,” the cousin added.  “You’ll have to burn it.”

“Later,” Finn said firmly.

“Sooner than later.  Nines wasn’t exactly subtle, and you were a dumbass and called the police--,”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Finn mumbled, shooting a weighted look at Poe.

“What, expect me to apologize,” Poe asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Finn sighed.

“Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?”

“My boyfriend,” Finn said, his voice lilting up questioning.

“I told you I’m not going away,” Poe smiled softly, shrugging.  The moment was broken by loud, slow claps from the phone.  “Oh, be quiet,” Poe shot at the phone.

“Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”  And the call ended with a beep.

“So that happened,” Finn mumbled, busying himself as he clicked off the external hard drive and shifted over to unplug it from the modem connector.

“Do you do this a lot,” Poe asked, hands in his pockets and eyes glancing around the room, noting that it had the same carefully curated look as the rest of Finn’s apartment.  Or maybe Finn really did like the cream-navy blue combination this much.

“No,” Finn said forcefully, standing and moving to the small desk to drop the device into his desk drawer.  “After—after I came back from Paris, Ben and I broke off contact for awhile.  But I’ve always been the last resort.”

“And I shouldn’t ask about what happened in Paris,” Poe said flatly, watching as Finn coiled the short cable around his palm.

“You can ask.  I don’t know if this is the best time to get into it,” Finn shrugged uncomfortably.  “It’s not—it was a long time ago.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Poe guessed.

Finn scowled.  “Alright, fine.  But it doesn’t matter.  I don’t really think about it anymore.”

Poe could tell that was a lie, but he figured there was no good outcome if he pushed that door at that point.  So instead he said, “I think you worried Rey and Bastian.”

“They’re okay,” Finn said quickly.  “I mean, they don’t know about—any of this, but they go with it.”

“I think they go with you, if you know what I mean,” Poe hinted.  Finn sighed, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

“They don’t need to worry about it.  They’ve got their own stuff.”

“Speaking from personal experience,” Poe started slowly, “not talking to someone because they have their own shit doesn’t actually keep them from worrying.”

Finn rolled his eyes and then tapped his fingers against the desktop.  “Well, you’re right.”

“About time.  I was zero-for-twenty tonight,” Poe smiled.

Finn snorted.  “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, well, you decided to go the mysterious route,” Poe shrugged, moving to lean against the desk next to Finn, carefully keeping their shoulders inches apart.  “And that was annoying, not gonna lie.”  Finn winced and Poe continued, “But Rey told me that’s kinda your thing--,”

“It sucks,” Finn mumbled.

“It’s like a reflex, right?”

“Easier to go it alone when things get…complicated,” Finn said, like they weren’t his words.  Poe had a good guess who Finn had heard them from.  But he waited and after a beat Finn added, “Were you actually scared?”

“Yep,” Poe said easily.  “I wasn’t expecting that when you invited me up.”

“Yeah, well, me neither,” Finn huffed.  “If I had said it was my cousin, what would you have said?”

“Honestly?  Probably would’ve still told you to call the police,” Poe shrugged.  “But it would’ve made more sense when you refused.”

“You wouldn’t ask ‘why’ or ‘what the hell is going on’?”

“I mean, that would’ve come later,” Poe replied truthfully.  Finn nodded thoughtfully and Poe pressed his advantage.  “And I understand enough to know that if it has to do with your cousin, you probably don’t know much about it either.”

“I have no idea what’s on the thumb drive,” Finn said, jerking his head towards the closed drawer.  “Standard procedure is that if I try to put it into anything other than that hard drive, a virus will infect the device.  I tried it once, back in college.  Had to wait months before I got a new laptop.”

“Because the less you know,” Poe started.

“The less culpable I am,” Finn finished.  “I swear, it isn’t usually this cloak and dagger.  Most of the time, everyone does their best to keep their shit away from me.  I’m the normal one.”

“There ain’t nothing normal about you,” Poe said seriously, but he cracked a smile when Finn tossed his head and laughed, breaking the strange cold mask that had fallen over him since he’d unlocked his apartment door hours earlier.  “That’s better.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed, slumping back onto his elbow and crossing his ankles and Poe wondered how the guy was supporting his weight.  “How are they doing out there anyway?”

“Bastian’s taking a shower and Rey’s making some strange recommendations to Iolo.”

“Ah,” Finn smiled.  “So business as usual?”

“You’ve got some interesting friends,” Poe commented.  Finn smiled up at him with a glint in his eyes.

“They’re your friends now too, dude.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.”

Finn chuckled but nodded in agreement.  Escalating voices drew their attention to the door and Finn straightened, tilting his head towards the door questioningly.  Poe nodded once and moved to twist the doorknob and pull the door open.

“—don’t care, stop trying to strip me,” Bastian was saying, backed up against the wall and batting away Rey’s hands like he was playing whack-a-mole.  Iolo was standing awkwardly to the side, looking like he couldn’t decide what to do.

“Rey, what’s up,” Finn asked loudly, crossing over to the group with an easy smile.

“He’s being weird,” Rey informed, although she stopped her attempts long enough to take in Finn’s relaxed stance and grinned.  “He won’t take off his shirt.”

“Right,” Finn drew out while Bastian took advantage of the suspended assault and dodged away, scampering bare-foot around to put the couch between him and Rey.

“I swear to God, this is the only friendship where I need a safe word,” Bastian grumbled, crossing his arms so his hands were shoved under his armpits.

“Seriously,” Iolo asked alarmed.

“Toyota,” Rey said as Finn said,

“Parrot.”

Iolo and Poe exchanged concerned looks and the other three occupants smirked.

“We’re joking, guys.  You two look like we just confessed to cannibalism,” Bastian teased, his tightly crossed arms relaxing slightly and Iolo moved over to stand beside him.

“It’s hard to tell with the three of you,” Iolo admitted with a small grimace.  Bastian smiled and leaned over to knock his shoulder against Iolo’s.  As Bastian started to lean back, Iolo’s arm shot out and pulled the younger man against his side.  Bastian jumped slightly in surprise, looking at Iolo with wide eyes, and Iolo stared back with soft eyes.

“Okay,” Rey said, breaking the silence and sounding gleeful, “I’m gonna grab a shirt from Finn and then I’m going to sleep.  You four have a good night,” she smiled wolfishly, reaching back into the bathroom and grabbing a plain gray t-shirt from the laundry bag.

“At least get a clean one,” Finn protested, wrinkling his nose and trying to grab the shirt back.

“Isn’t that mine,” Bastian asked, tilting his head as Rey bounced out of Finn’s reach, jumping over the back of the couch and pausing long enough to plant a kiss on Bastian’s forehead before she dashed into the guestroom and slammed the door behind her.  “Pretty sure that’s my shirt.”

“Yeah, I was gonna return it after I washed it,” Finn shrugged.  Then he glanced around at the remaining group and bit his lip.  “Um.”

“Well, there’s a perfectly reasonable way to do this,” Poe started from where he was standing beside Finn’s bedroom door.

“Bastian, are you sleeping tonight,” Finn asked abruptly and Iolo hummed questioningly.

“Here’s hoping, babe,” Bastian replied with a rueful smile.

“Why are you saying it like sleep’s optional,” Iolo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not optional, just not inevitable,” Bastian said honestly.  Iolo’s face lit up and his free hand jerked and Bastian noticed and snorted.  “Yeah, you can write that down.”

Iolo pulled away, sliding his small notebook out of his back pocket as he did so.  “Sorry, I just—liked how that sounded, you know?”

“No worries.  It’s kinda flattering,” Bastian mentioned as Iolo held his notebook open against his left palm and wrist and uncapped his pen with his teeth.  “No one’s ever written down what I’ve said before.”

“That’s a shame,” Iolo mumbled around the pen cap as he jotted down the short thought.

“Well, if he’s not sleeping, Bastian should stay with me,” Finn said, returning to the pressing topic.  Poe’s head snapped in Finn’s direction and Finn added quickly, “Because he’s really fidgety and I don’t want him to keep you guys up.”

“He’s used to it,” Bastian explained as Iolo capped his pen and put his notebook away.

“I can handle it,” Iolo said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Well.”  Bastian blinked and glanced over at Finn, who looked equally surprised.  “I guess that’s that.”

“Finn, if you want Poe can sleep out here too,” Iolo offered, sending Finn a kind smile.

“Poe would like to know how that’ll work,” Poe said flatly.

“You can take the recliner,” Iolo shrugged, jerking his head towards the armchair in question.

Poe scowled and Bastian interjected, “I mean, I can take the chair.  Any given night there’s a fifty-fifty shot I’m not sleeping so--,”

“We’ll figure it out,” Iolo interrupted, leaving no room for argument so Bastian didn’t try.  Instead, he started taking off the couch cushions with practiced ease.  “That alright, Finn?”

*****

“I hate you,” Poe mumbled to the man next to him in bed.

“I know,” Iolo replied, lying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head as he stared up at the shadows cast by the light from street on the ceiling.

“You just had to stick your nose in,” Poe continued, his back to his friend so he missed Iolo’s shrug.  “Just had to make it difficult.”

“It was the right call to make,” Iolo said, glancing over at the lounging figure in the recliner.  Bastian’s face was illuminated by his phone screen, his earbuds bright white against his skin.  The younger man felt eyes on him and looked over, tilting his head in question.  Iolo shook his head, pointing his thumb over to Poe’s back.  Bastian nodded in understanding before focusing back on his phone.

“I wasn’t going to try anything,” Poe grumbled, defending himself against nothing.

Iolo rolled his eyes, looking back up at the ceiling.  “He was uncomfortable.  Maybe this wasn’t how he thought your first night together would go.”

“It’s not our first night--,”

“Oh, are you counting when you stayed in his guestroom with his dad two doors away?  Or last weekend when he slept in the loft and you were on one of the pull-out beds?”

“The number of times I end up on pull-out beds,” Poe huffed, flopping onto his back.  “Might as well be back in grad school.”

Iolo chuckled, patting his friend on the stomach.  “You’ll survive.”

“One of these weekends, we’re going on a date that doesn’t end with the four of us sleeping together.”

“Trust me, I’m praying for the same thing,” Iolo smiled, and Poe rolled onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow to look down at his friend.

“How’d it go tonight, anyway?  Before all this?”

“Good,” Iolo answered, reaching up and poking Poe’s nose.  “He’s--,” Iolo broke off, checking that Bastian wasn’t paying attention.  The younger man had his tongue between his teeth, thumbs flying across his screen.  “He’s something else.”

“Yeah, I feel kinda bad that he’s been our sound guy for a year and I never really talked to him,” Poe admitted shamefully.

“Get in the guilt line.  He’s been at the studio for three years and I didn’t even know his name until Finn,” Iolo sighed.  “Better late than never, right?”

“Right,” Poe nodded.  “And…I dunno, but you seem more—settled.  Like, you haven’t gotten edits back yet, and usually you’d be ripping your hair out about that.  But you’re going out, interacting--,”

“Thanks for not making me sound like a maniac,” Iolo joked, shoving Poe’s shoulder and Poe crumbled back dramatically.

“No fighting after two in the morning,” Bastian said from his spot, lying on his side and watching the pair with a lazy grin, one earbud dangling loose down his chest.

Poe laughed, sticking out his tongue at the younger man, who blew a kiss in response.

“You’ll never fall asleep if you keep playing games,” Iolo said with a pointed look at Bastian’s phone.

“Just distracting myself,” Bastian shrugged.  “Bejeweled is pretty good at that.”

“Turn off your phone,” Iolo urged, sitting up.  Poe pinched Iolo’s side, signaling he knew what Iolo was up to.

“Need the music.  Can’t sleep when it’s too quiet,” Bastian replied, sounding apologetic.  “Like, if I can hear myself breathing it’ll keep me up.”

“Sounds like you’re wound pretty tight,” Poe commented.

“Pretty sure it’s just your standard insomnia,” Bastian chuckled.  “I’m not deep enough to have problems, ya know?”

Iolo and Poe shared a look: Iolo glanced down at the bed and then back at Poe, who grimaced and shook his head.  Iolo pouted slightly and Poe shook his head again, looking over at Finn’s closed bedroom door.  Iolo rolled his eyes and turned back to Bastian.  “Come over here?”

“So you can steal my phone,” Bastian asked cautiously, holding the device to his chest. 

“The bed’s gonna collapse,” Poe warned as he shifted to the far side of the bed, taking a pillow with him.

“You can keep your phone,” Iolo smiled, scooting to the middle of the mattress and holding out a hand invitingly to the man in the armchair.  Bastian frowned in thought before slowly getting to his feet.  “I’m not going to attack you,” Iolo said gently.

“Yeah, that hadn’t actually crossed my mind,” Bastian mumbled, taking the one step needed to bring him to the side of the pull-out bed and then sitting on the edge of the mattress curiously.  “What’s the plan here?”

“No idea,” Poe replied as Iolo tugged the remaining earbud out of Bastian’s ear.

“Here, put it in airplane mode,” Iolo instructed, unplugging the earbuds from the phone, allowing the soft piano music to fill the room.  Bastian shrugged but did so while Iolo reached around him and put the earbuds on the side table.  As soon as he had, Iolo took the phone and put it on the table before sliding to lie down, lifting up the sheet.

“When it keeps you up all night, remember you did it to yourself,” Bastian told them before swinging his legs under the sheet and arranging himself to lie on his back, head barely on the pillow.  Iolo’s hand settled on Bastian’s left hip and rolled him onto his side until the younger man’s head was cushioned on Iolo’s chest.

“Can you hear yourself breathing,” Iolo asked softly.

Bastian swallowed.  “Can hear your heart.”

“Focus on that,” Iolo said, his other arm wrapping around Bastian’s back, holding him against his side.  Bastian laid there stiffly for a few minutes, eyes closed, and Poe and Iolo stayed silent, no one moving beyond the rising and falling of their chests, the soft piano music tinkling around them.  Slowly, finally, Bastian’s arm wormed its way up to grip Iolo’s borrowed t-shirt loosely, his shoulders easing as he ducked his head further onto Iolo’s torso.  Iolo sent a quick grin at Poe, who smiled fondly.

“Night,” Poe whispered.

“Night,” Iolo murmured back, turning his head back to rest his chin on the crown of Bastian’s head.  Bastian managed a hum in response as he pressed himself closer to Iolo’s side, and Iolo felt a tight, warm feeling spread through his ribcage—a little too similar to how he felt when he was published for the first time.  And he dozed off, wondering what the hell he was doing and how he could keep it up.       

*****

Finn blinked down, his lips pursed, at the odd threesome on his pull-out bed.  Leave them alone for a couple hours and they find a way to confuse him.  Poe was on his stomach, face turned to the side and hair falling into his face with a few curls wafting up and down with each exhale, one arm hugging a pillow and the other thrown over Iolo’s waist.  Iolo was curled almost entirely around Bastian, who had his knees slotted between Iolo’s and his forehead was pressed against Iolo’s chest.  They couldn’t have looked more like a pile of puppies if they tried, and they had the nerve to call Finn ‘adorable.’

“I’ve taken, like, twenty pictures,” Rey whispered next to him, shaking her phone in emphasis.

“Should we wake them,” Finn asked, although he was reluctant to.  Not just because they looked precious, but Bastian had the overnight shift tonight and he needed all the sleep he could get.

Rey rocked her head back and forth, considering.  “We could go grab coffee and wake them after?”

Finn reached out and gently pushed Poe’s hair out of his face.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Any idea how that happened,” Rey asked quietly as she pulled her tan combat boots on.

Finn shoved his feet into his sneakers, smiling as Zuri leapt gracefully onto the pull-out bed and started trying to groom Iolo’s hair.  “Nope, but it was probably Iolo’s idea.”

“For sure,” Rey agreed, slipping out into the hallway while Finn held the door open a crack.  He took the keys from their dish, glancing over his shoulder again before leaving, watching Iolo shift closer to Bastian in his sleep and Zuri delicately walk across Poe’s back.  Yeah, it was kinda weird but Finn, chuckling to himself and closing the door, felt strangely happy about the whole thing.  Not how he wanted his Sunday morning to go, but he had no complaints as he fell into step with Rey, who was trying to decide who to text the photos to first.

Chapter Text

**Two Weeks Later**

“What I’m saying is this: moving in with a partner is a serious decision,” Poe reiterated, adjusting his mic as he leaned forward.  “And at the end of the day, if you’re having second thoughts, it’s because you don’t know if you’re ready to take that step, Heather.”

“Yeah,” the caller sighed.  “It’s just that…everything works out so well.  Like, both of our leases are up at the end of August… It just makes sense, you know?”

“But do you want to make this important decision because of an expiring lease,” Poe asked sensibly and Finn shot him a smile.  Poe winked back, then looked over to the sound booth and frowned when he noticed Bastian had his headset off and was speaking on the office phone.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Heather said slowly, “it does sound kinda silly.”

“No one and nothing can make this decision for you,” Finn interjected gently as Poe signaled to Bastian questioningly.  Bastian shook his head and held up his fist.  “In the end, you should be comfortable with living with someone, not with the convenience of sharing a lease.  Thanks for the call, Heather.  We’re going to take a quick commercial break.  This is Finn Skywalker, and you’re listening to Capitally Curious on DC105.”

“Everything okay,” Poe asked as soon as the on-air light switched off and Bastian transitioned to the pre-recorded commercials.

“Poe, I’ve got your dad on the phone,” Bastian answered, holding down his mic’s button and frowning.  “It sounds pretty urgent.”

“Fuck,” Poe breathed, getting to his feet and his wheeled office chair spinning backwards as he started for the door to the sound booth.  Bastian scrambled to his feet and handed off the phone before hurrying to join Finn in the studio. 

“Is it bad,” Finn asked his friend who leaned his hip on the counter beside Finn’s seat.

“I didn’t ask for any details,” Bastian shrugged, crossing his arms.  The pair watched Poe pace back and forth, speaking into the phone like in a silent movie.  “He didn’t sound upset, if that helps.”

Finn hummed at that, watching Poe sink down to sit in Bastian’s chair and run a hand through his hair nervously.  “Well, it doesn’t look good.  Should we cut the show short?”

“And fill the time with what,” Bastian asked.  “I don’t have my equipment, and I know you big-time personalities don’t carry sets around with you.”

“Hey,” Finn scowled, distracted, “I’m not a personality.”

“You’re on two shows a day, and three on Wednesdays.  What do you think that makes you, babe?”  Bastian frowned as Poe banged his fist on the soundproof glass and pointed down at the soundboard.  “Damn, we’re on the last commercial.”

“Pull up a chair,” Finn said, waving at Poe to stay where he was.

“You better have a plan,” Bastian muttered, grabbing Poe’s discarded office seat and rolling it over to the open mic.

“Just—I’ll set you up and you follow my lead,” Finn answered, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants legs and nodding at Poe as the older man, still with the phone to his ear, counted down the last five seconds before the on-air sign turned on.  “Welcome back to Capitally Curious.  I’m Finn Skywalker and joining me in the studio now is my friend, Bastian Johnson.”

“Hello,” Bastian said into his mic cheerfully, even as he shot Finn a wide-eyed look.  “Thanks for having me, Finn.”

“Of course,” Finn smiled, his mind racing.  Poe cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and gestured, pointing at his palm and then arching his finger behind his palm.  Finn blinked before catching on.  “Before commercial, we had Heather calling in with a question about when is it appropriate to move in with a partner.  Do you have any thoughts, Bastian?”

Bastian smirked.  “I have many thoughts, but they’re just based on personal experience.  There’s no research behind them.”

“I’m sure our listeners would love to hear a real-life example,” Finn beamed and Poe threw a thumb’s up in his direction.

Bastian rolled his shoulders back.  “Well, I moved in with my last partner after two hook-ups.” 

“What,” Finn blurted out, and Poe mouthed the same from the sound booth.

“I’m not recommending it as fool-proof or anything, but yeah, I did,” Bastian continued, shrugging.  “He was a friend of a friend I hardly ever saw.  But I was twenty, he was twenty-one.  We did what young people do.  Anyway, it was the end of my sophomore year of college and I landed a great internship at the last minute.  I couldn’t stay in the dorms over the summer, so I was at a loss.  Somehow the story gets back to him—let’s call him Will—and Will pops up and says I can stay with him for the summer.”

“So you just moved in for the summer,” Finn clarified.

“That was the plan.  Then I stayed for two years,” Bastian explained, smile softening and his eyes losing their sharp focus as he remembered.  “And my family and my friends told me I was crazy to move in with someone I barely knew.  But you know what?  I never regretted it.  That internship was how I discovered I loved being on the radio, and that relationship taught me more about life than I was probably prepared for.”

Finn swallowed tightly, because he knew what he had to ask for the listeners but he didn’t want to put Bastian on the spot.  “You never thought that starting a relationship while living together was too much,” he asked instead.

“Sometimes I did,” Bastian allowed.  “It was a bit of a baptism by fire.  There was no dating, no getting to know each other.  Right off the bat we were discussing dividing bills and personal space.  At the same time, it made everything else so real.  I never had to wonder if he meant it when he said he’d choose me every time, because he already did, when he had no reason to.”

Finn caught himself staring at his friend and shook his head, checking the clock on the wall.  Perfect.  “Thank you, Bastian.  That’s something I wouldn’t have thought of.  It’s good to get a different perspective.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Bastian joked, also checking the clock over his shoulder.  “Looks like we’re out of time for tonight.  Time flies, huh?”

“It really does.  Thank you to all our callers.  On behalf of Poe and Bastian, this is Finn Skywalker on DC105,” Finn finished in a rush and Bastian clicked them off-air with the emergency switch in the studio.  “Um--,”

“Of all the topics,” Bastian huffed and winked at Finn.  “I think we handled that alright.”

“You two were great,” Poe said, letting himself into the studio.  He shot a heavy look at Bastian, who just asked,

“How’re things?”

“My dad broke his leg,” Poe admitted, going with the change of topic.

“Shit, is he okay?  Is he at the hospital,” Finn asked, getting to his feet.

“Yeah, sounds like it was a clean break.  The hospital is keeping him overnight because they think he has a concussion—and he lives alone so…” Poe trailed off, swallowing thickly.  “Anyway, I’m going to head out after my morning class tomorrow.”

“If there’s anything I—we—can do,” Finn started, awkwardly.  Poe smiled crookedly, reaching out and pulling Finn into a loose hug, kissing his cheek.

“No one’s dying, okay?  I’ll bring him back to mine, even if I have to drug him,” Poe joked.  “But thanks for the offer.”

“Well, keep us updated,” Bastian said, seriously.  “I’ve got all my first aid certifications up to date.”

“I didn’t know that,” Finn said over his shoulder as he kept his arms around Poe’s waist.

“Sure.  The Y requires it,” Bastian shrugged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and standing.  “Well, I’m gonna shut it down and head out.  If you’re gonna make out in the studio, make sure it’s away from any buttons, got it?”

“You know us so well,” Poe joked and Bastian backed his way into the sound booth, shooting finger guns at the pair as he went.

“You sure everything is okay,” Finn pressed as the door closed.

“My dad’s tough.  He’s gonna be back on his feet in no time,” Poe assured.  “But I’ll let him know he worried you.”

“That might sound weird, since he doesn’t know me,” Finn hinted.

“I’ve told him about you,” Poe said, looking over Finn’s shoulder as the younger man pulled back and frowned.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and we’re going to leave it at that,” Poe said brightly and promptly, pulling back and moving to grab his notebook and bag.  “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Finn nodded, hands fidgeting uncomfortably.  “Don’t worry about that.  Whenever you can.”

“Seriously, it’s going to be alright, Finn.  He’ll be good as new in no time,” Poe promised as he walked backwards towards the door.  Finn followed and drew the older man in for a solid kiss.  Poe returned the effort, even as his lips stretched up in a smile.  “By the way,” he breathed as he pulled back, “I texted Lo.  About Bastian.”

“Do you think we’re too involved in their thing,” Finn asked, although he grinned at Poe’s words.

“Like they weren’t weirdly invested in ours,” Poe rolled his eyes.  “Get home safe!”

“You too,” Finn called as Poe slipped out of studio.

*****

Iolo closed his laptop with a click and pushed his chair away from his kitchen table with a heavy sigh.  Fuck, he hated edits.  He stretched his arms over his head, his head falling back with a yawn.  He cracked his neck and got to his feet, tightening the loose tie on his sweatpants and wiggling his toes to get the feeling back in them before padding over to his kitchen.  Flicking on the light, he pulled open his freezer and pulled out the first box he saw.  French bread pizza.  Not bad, Iolo decided as he set the oven temperature for the desired 400 degrees.  Leaving the box on the counter, he wandered through the living room to his bedroom, bending down to pick up the pants and shirt he’d worn to the studio that morning.  He shook out the shirt, decided it wasn’t too wrinkled and put it back on its hanger for another day.  His jeans seemed strangely heavy, so he sat on the edge of his bed and searched the pockets until he found his cellphone.

He tossed the jeans over the open drawer of his bureau and unlocked his phone with his thumb, unconcerned.  Nothing ever happened on a Wednesday anyway.  He had three missed texts and couple unimportant Twitter notifications.  Just the way he liked it, and Iolo smiled to himself as he checked his texts.

Bastian: 6:34 PM

I wish I was enough of a badass to pull off a skirt.  This heat is killing me.

Poe: 8:51 PM

My dad broke his leg.  He’s fine, but I’m gonna pick him up tomorrow.

Poe: 8:54 PM

PS you should probably call Bastian when you get the chance.

Clicking his tongue, Iolo flopped back onto his bed, holding his cell above his face as he typed out his reply.

Iolo:

Sorry to hear about Kes.  Let me know if you need anything. 

I’ll call Bas now, thanks.

Iolo flicked over to Bastian’s contact and pressed the green phone icon, bringing his cell to his ear and he listened to it ring once.  Twice.

“Hi,” came Bastian’s cheerful greeting.

“I’ll bet you could pull off a toga if you tried,” Iolo smiled, pinching the bridge of his nose to strive off a yawn.

“Oh, I rock a toga,” Bastian replied brightly.  “How are the edits coming?”

“Slowly,” Iolo admitted with a sigh.  “I’m completely rewriting one section, and they want me to cut out four pages somehow--,” he broke off, rubbing the corner of his eye.  “But I’ll get it done by Friday.”

“Well, break a pencil,” Bastian offered hesitantly.  “I’m no good at grammar or any of that, but if I can help…?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” Iolo said, kindly but quickly.  “How was your day?  Everything good?”

“Yeah, normal Wednesday.  Had to fill in for Poe at the end of the show, but Finn had it under control.”

“What was the topic de jour,” Iolo asked, getting back to his feet as his oven beeped that it was preheated.

“I don’t remember,” Bastian chuckled.  “They got a call asking about when’s the right time to move in with someone.”  Iolo hummed to show he was listening as he tore open the cardboard box and pulled out the plastic-wrapped oblong pizza.  “Did you talk to Poe?”

“He texted that his dad broke his leg,” Iolo answered, ripping the plastic open and sliding the pizza onto the baking tray that he left on the stove for the purpose.  “Why?”

“Nothing,” Bastian replied hastily.  “I just thought—but yeah, it’s too bad about his dad.”

Iolo pressed his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he opened the oven door and slid the tray in.  “What did you think he told me about?”

There was a pause and then Iolo heard Bastian heave a sigh.  “Jamie came up on the show and at this point I just expect everything I say to be reported back to you.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Iolo said, bouncing himself up to sit on the counter, watching the oven.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s getting easier to talk about him,” Bastian said carelessly and Iolo frowned.  “Poe and Finn were basically talking this woman out of moving in with her boyfriend, and I go ‘well, I moved it with my last partner after two one-night stands’--,”

“Wait, seriously?”

“I was twenty, don’t judge me,” Bastian joked, but with a slightly panicked edge.

“I’m not judging,” Iolo stressed.  “Just surprised.”

“Well, there were extenuating circumstances,” Bastian muttered.

“So, wait,” Iolo ran a hand over his eyes, processing.  “You never dated Jamie?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘date,’” Bastian said honestly.  “But, no, he and I never did what you and I are doing.”

Iolo swallowed, brow furrowed.  “Well, that’s good to know.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bastian pointed out.

“It just means I have to up my game,” Iolo replied lightly.  “Like this Saturday.”

“Uh, do we have plans for Saturday,” Bastian asked uncertainly.

“Not yet—are you busy?”

“Well,” Bastian drew out, “my brother’s bringing his family down for a day at the zoo.  And I don’t see my niece and nephew that much so I was gonna—do that.”

“You’re an uncle,” Iolo marveled fondly.  “That’s amazing.”

“I mean, Micah and Veronica did all the work,” Bastian said, clearly beaming on his end.  “I just get to spoil them with ice cream and candy.”

“You’re their favorite uncle, aren’t you,” Iolo smiled softly.

“Well, that’s the goal.  Someone’s gotta take care of me in my old age, and I’m banking on Mickey at the moment.”

Iolo laughed.  “Mickey, huh?”

“Micah the fourth is a mouthful,” Bastian sighed.  “And I’m told he’s introducing himself as ‘Mickey’ now so I’m already corrupting the youth of today.”

“Such a bad influence,” Iolo teased.

“I’m a little shit, is what I am,” Bastian said promptly and that surprised a bright laugh out of Iolo.  “But, we could do something Saturday night?  Or another brunch on Sunday?  I promise not to reinvent your writing style this time.”

“Don’t promise that—what if I sink into a black hole of self-doubt between now and then,” Iolo joked.

“Then I’m gonna slap you upside the head with a thesaurus,” Bastian answered with a little too much surety.  “With affection, obviously.”

“Good, that’ll make it all better,” Iolo snorted.  “But yeah, we’ll figure something out.  You know, I haven’t been to the zoo in years.”

“That’s a crime.”

“Well, you should scout out the best spots for when you take me,” Iolo said, feeling surer of himself than he usually did at this stage.

“Or you could just come with on Saturday,” Bastian offered casually and Iolo choked on his tongue.  “Uh, unless that’s a boundary I don’t know about.”

“No,” Iolo said quickly.  “Not a boundary.  Just—you know what, that sounds great.  When should I meet you?”

“You sure?  ‘Cause as I said it I realized how that probably sounded--,”

“It sounds like fun,” Iolo interrupted smoothly.  “I’d like to meet your brother, if the offer still stands.”

There was a slight pause and then Bastian said, “Yeah, okay.  This—this’ll work.  How about I text you on Friday with the time?  Depends on when they leave Baltimore and traffic and all that fun stuff.”

“Great,” Iolo nodded, sniffing the air and picking up a faint whiff of burning.  “I’ve gotta save my dinner from the oven so…”

“Right.  Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Bastian said, sounding almost relieved.  “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Iolo replied, before taking the phone away from his ear and pressing the red ‘End Call’ option.  And, as his dinner crossed from crispy to burnt, he sat on the counter, parsing the new information.

*****

Saturday

Finn drummed his fingers against his kitchen table, considering.  Zuri rubbed her head against his calf with passive affection and continued on her way before he could reach down and scratched her behind the ears.  Finn sighed, bending his left knee and bringing it up to his chest, resting his chin on top.  He looked out his window, the sidewalk starting to fill with the midmorning rush of people.  He’d woken up early, gotten his run in before the heat had settled in for the day.  And since then he’d been overthinking and overanalyzing the hell out of the last text he’d gotten from Poe.

Coming to a decision he opened his contacts on his phone and scrolled down, selecting a contact he’d never used before and pressing call before he overthought another thing before eleven in the morning.

It rang three times before the call was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Iolo.  It’s Finn.”

“Okay,” Iolo drew out.  “If this is about work, can you save it for tomorrow?”

“It’s about Poe,” Finn said. 

“What did he do,” Iolo asked instantly and Finn laughed.

“Nah, nothing like that.  I was wondering—on a scale from ‘invading Russia in the winter’ to ‘the American Revolution’ how bad would it be if I just…showed up at Poe’s house unannounced?”

There was a pause and then laughter fizzled through Finn’s speaker.  “First off, ‘invading Russia in the winter’ is going to be my new extreme, so thanks.  Secondly, why would that be bad?  He’d love to see you anytime, anyplace.”

Finn smiled, scratching his ear.  “Thanks.  But—you know he has his dad staying with him?”

“Yeah, so?  Kes is cool,” Iolo said with the sound of shuffling objects in the background.

“Well, I texted Poe, saying if he needed anything I could come by.  And he replied with ‘I don’t want to put you out,’” Finn huffed, having memorized the short sentence from how long he had stared at it.

“Oh, he definitely wants you to go over,” Iolo answered, grin clear in his voice.  “That’s classic Poe-speak for ‘where the hell are you.’”

“Huh.  Good to know,” Finn muttered, getting to his feet and heading for the door.  “Thanks, man.  I owe you one.”

“Well, since I have you on the phone,” Iolo started as Finn knelt and pulled his nicer loafers out from under the pile of shoes.  He was meeting Poe’s father, after all.  “Got any insight on Bastian’s brother?”

“Never met him,” Finn responded, easing his feet into the loafers.  “I know he talks about Micah like he hung the moon.  Why?”

“I—uh—kinda talked my way into going to the zoo with them today,” Iolo admitted shyly and Finn whistled lowly.  “I know.  Been freaking myself out about for the past two days.”

“Aw,” Finn clucked, “that’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I know his brother’s supportive of him so I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Finn offered, standing back up and grabbing his keys.  He checked over his shoulder and saw Zuri’s water dish and dry food was all set.  “And if Bastian said it was okay, then it probably is.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.  If it was going to be a disaster, Bastian probably would’ve tried to talk me out of it, right?”

“Oh yeah.  Abandon ship, port side,” Finn joked, closing the door behind him and locking it. 

Iolo snorted over the line.  “Right.  Well, have fun with the Damerons.  Tell Kes I say hi.”

“Will do.  Give Bastian a kiss for me,” Finn chimed, bouncing his way down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Iolo shot back before ending the call.

“Spoilsport,” Finn mumbled as he slid his phone into his back pocket, and then he checked his other pocket.  “Wallet,” he huffed to himself, turning and heading back up the stairs, shoulders slumped.

***

Iolo

Iolo shifted his weight from foot to foot, standing just inside the gate of the National Zoo, to the left of the information booth, where he was told to meet the Johnsons.  It was hot, muggy, nearly stifling and Iolo wasn’t sure if it was just a typical summer day in DC or if nerves were taking over.  This wasn’t how things went: you get to know someone, date a while, and then have a serious conversation about meeting families.  What had he and Bastian done really?  A few pre-dates, one night together when Bastian had been too sick to stay awake for more than ten minutes at a time, and one date which had ended in a strangely intimate three-way cuddle session.  That wasn’t enough for this.  Hell, what did he even introduce himself as?  Was he a co-worker or a friend or some guy who’d taken Bastian on one date and then invited himself to meet Bastian’s brother?  This had been the worst idea—

“There you are!  Sorry, hope you weren’t waiting long,” Bastian greeted with a bright smile and a tight hug that Iolo slumped into.  “Veronica needed some coffee so we stopped over at Dunkin—are you alright?”

Realizing he had basically gone boneless in Bastian’s arms, Iolo pulled back quickly, clapping the younger man on the shoulder, hopefully reassuringly.  “Yeah, I’m good.  All good.”  Bastian didn’t look convinced so Iolo blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  “You smell nice.”

Bastian raised an eyebrow.  “I probably smell like sunscreen.  Veronica sprayed the hell out of me ‘cause skin cancer, ya know?”

“Right,” Iolo mumbled, looking over the fitted Blink-182 t-shirt and burgundy shorts, fraying around the younger man’s knees.

“They’ll gonna announce that sunscreen causes cancer and then we’re gonna be screwed,” Bastian continued, undaunted by the scrutiny.  “Seriously, are you okay?  Are you getting heat stroke or something?”

Iolo’s head snapped up from where he was counting the eyelets on Bastian’s Chucks.  “No, yeah, I’m fine.”  Bastian tilted his head to the side and waited.  “Well, I might—might—be freaking out a little.”  

Bastian’s eyes narrowed.  “If you want to sneak away, I totally understand.  But they’re excited to meet you.”

“Really,” Iolo asked flatly, disbelieving.

“Yeah, course they are,” Bastian nodded.  “I gave them a run-down on the way.  Veronica’s a fan already.” 

Iolo frowned, opening his mouth to ask what exactly Bastian had told them when an orange blur darted into his field of vision and ran smack into Bastian’s left leg.  While Iolo processed the little boy with close-cropped hair, orange shirt and shorts, and beaming face, a small girl in a green dress and pink sandals ran over and grabbed onto Bastian’s right shorts leg, giggling.

“Now, what did I say about running off,” asked a firm-voiced woman, impeccably dressed in light pink with pearls around her neck.  Iolo blinked, shocked that anyone could look that put-together in eighty percent humidity.

“But it was Uncle Bas,” the girl whined, smiling over at the lady.

“Sorry, Mama,” the little boy said contritely.

“Esther,” prompted a low voice to Iolo’s left, and Iolo jerked, turning to look up at a man who had to be 6’3” if not more.  He wore a white polo shirt and khaki shorts and shot Iolo a friendly smile when he caught Iolo staring.

“Sorry, Mama,” the girl—Esther—recited, sing-song.

“You must be Iolo,” the man said, holding out a hand.  “I’m Micah.”

“Right, I gathered that,” Iolo smiled nervously, griping the offered hand.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.  And this is my wife, Veronica,” Micah introduced, and the woman ignored Iolo’s hand and instead drew him in for a hug.

“We’re huggers, especially with anyone Bastian speaks highly of,” Veronica beamed, pulling back before Iolo had a chance to react and holding him at arm’s length, looking him over.  “You’re very handsome, aren’t you?  Isn’t he, Bastian?”

Iolo’s jaw dropped as Bastian, now kneeling between the two kids who were talking over each other, said, “I think so, yeah.”

“Thank you,” Iolo replied dazed, watching Bastian send him a wink before he pulled the children closer to his side and turned them a little.

“Essie, Mickey, this is my friend I told you about.”

Iolo gulped as two sets of inspecting eyes turned their focus on him.  Deciding to follow Bastian’s lead, he dropped to one knee.  “Hello.  My name’s Iolo.”

The brother and sister exchanged a look and then the boy stepped towards Iolo and stuck out his little hand.  “I’m Mickey, sir.”

“Ah,” Iolo swallowed, taking the hand gently and letting it jerk his up and down.  “You can just call me Iolo.”

“I’m Esther Maria Johnson, Mr. Iolo,” the girl announced, holding out her hand palm down.  “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Bastian snorted, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles, while Micah told him, “She gets the flair for dramatics from you.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how genetics work,” Bastian whispered back while Iolo, very seriously, took Esther’s hand, covering the back of her hand with his thumb before bending a pressing a quick kiss to his thumb.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Esther,” Iolo said solemnly.

Smiling proudly, she said, “You can call me ‘Essie.’”

“Thank you,” Iolo nodded seriously and Bastian evidently couldn’t take it anymore and fell back onto his ass, laughing.  Micah held out a hand and hauled his brother to his feet before cuffing him upside the head affectionately.

“I can see the potential,” Veronica informed Micah as Iolo got to his feet and the kids turned their attentions back on Bastian.

“Don’t get too carried away,” Micah murmured back softly, although he sent a warm smile Iolo’s way. 

“You have the most polite children I’ve ever seen,” Iolo complimented, watching out of the corner of his eye Essie try to climb Bastian’s leg like it was a tree.

“They have their moments,” Veronica joked, although she had a fond twinkle in her eye. 

“Are they twins,” Iolo asked, making small talk while Mickey took to poking Bastian’s knee repeatedly.

“Yes, four-year-old twin hurricanes,” Micah answered.  “Emphasis on hurricanes.”

“Bassie, you said you’d take us to the orange monkeys,” Mickey moaned.

“They’re called orange-tangs,” Essie corrected her brother at a stage-whisper and Mickey stuck out his tongue.

“Now, why would you want to go see the orangutans,” Bastian started, smiling mischievously, “when we have an orange monkey right…here,” he declared, swinging Mickey up into the air by his arms, the boy screaming with laughter.  Essie bounced on her toes, clapping.

“He’s a natural, isn’t he,” Veronica asked Iolo, elbowing him gently in the arm.

“Um,” Iolo blinked.

“Nica, don’t scare him off,” Micah chuckled.  “Don’t mind her; she’d pair off the world like Noah’s ark if she could,” he told Iolo.

“No, I don’t—it’s fine,” Iolo stammered, flashing a quick smile.  “You’re right—he really loves them.  Last night, he called me during a commercial break and gushed about them.”

Micah’s face lit up and he looked over to his brother, who had each kid by the hand while whispering to them.  Veronica tapped Iolo’s shoulder and murmured, “You don’t know it, but you just said the exact right thing.  Micah is very proud of the three of them.”

“Three,” Iolo repeated blankly as Micah stepped over to his brother and the four of them started off down the wide, paved path, the men keeping easy pace with the children.  Veronica and Iolo fell into step behind them.

“Oh, Micah’s always considered Bastian his,” Veronica answered easily, producing a small white paper fan from her purse and employing it.  “You know, when I first met Micah I thought he had some dirty secret.  We were juniors in high school; I had just transferred, which was a nightmare.  But Micah was in my homeroom and he was such a gentleman, walking me to class and introducing me to everyone.  But as soon as the last bell of the day rang, he’d disappear!”  Iolo hummed questioningly, keeping an eye on the group ahead of them as they stopped to look at the cheetahs.

“Well, this went on for weeks before I got up the nerve to ask him about it,” Veronica continued easily, stopping and smiling as Micah picked up Essie so she could have a better view.  “I ducked out of my last class early and waited outside by his car.  He came out before the last bell even rang, and he was so surprised to see me—I thought he was going to faint.  I told him I didn’t care what he was up to, but I wanted him to be honest with me.  I was preparing to hear he was on drugs or something.  I had myself all worked up.  Then he grinned and told me he’d show me.”

“Bastian,” Iolo asked, to contribute as the group started off again.

Veronica nodded.  “He drove right to the elementary school and got into the carpool line.  Kids started running out of the building, absolute chaos.  Micah climbed out of the car, and I followed because I didn’t want to miss whatever was about to happen.  This little ball of energy with an absolute mane ran straight into Micah’s arms, and—well, I didn’t stand a chance after that.  Have you ever seen a picture of Bastian as a child?”  Iolo shook his head.  Veronica held up a finger and quickened over to her husband, who had paused at the bison enclosure, which Mickey seemed fascinated by.  She kissed Micah on the cheek while sliding his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Am I getting that back,” Micah joked as Iolo approached.

“What’s yours is mine,” Veronica chimed teasing.

“That’s funny,” Micah told Iolo, “because she’s the one who carries the money.”

“I wanted to show him this,” Veronica explained, flipping open the tan leather wallet and pulling out a plastic sleeve from behind Micah’s driver’s license.  She handed it over to Iolo with a bright smile and, after getting a reassuring nod from Micah, Iolo took it and squinted down at it.

It was an old photo, already faded around the worn edges.  A younger Micah, dressed eerily like what he was wearing today, was smiling at the small boy he had on his hip.  Little Bastian was beaming at the camera, both hands held out, fingers spread wide, like he was waving.  His hair was bigger than his little head, and Iolo smiled softly at the look of unadulterated joy on the child’s face.

“Jeez, what are you doing with that,” came Bastian’s surprised voice and Iolo looked up to see Bastian gaping down at the picture. 

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Iolo said seriously.  Bastian snorted, taking the photo away.

“Man, when was this?  My first day of school,” he asked his brother, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.  You were so excited.  The teacher was a bit concerned,” Micah laughed, remembering.  “All the other kids were crying because they didn’t want their parents to leave.  You took one look at the cardboard castle and forgot I was there.”

“Well, I knew you’d come back,” Bastian shrugged.  “And the folks,” he added and Iolo thought it was for his benefit.

“Bassie, orange-tangs,” Essie demanded up at him and Bastian grinned.

“The orangutans will still be there,” he said, although he passed the photo to his brother and let Essie grab his hand and start tugging him down the path.  Mickey bounded after them and caught onto Bastian’s shorts with his small fist.

“Do you want to find some lemonade,” Veronica asked Iolo brightly.  Iolo vaguely gestured after Bastian and the kids and she waved it away.  “They’re on a mission and Bas knows his way around.”

“Uh, sure.  But I’ll need to hear more stories about Bastian as a kid,” Iolo smiled.

“I’ve got that topic covered,” Micah replied, looking down at the picture in his hand.  “He was the cutest menace you’d ever seen.”

“So nothing’s changed,” Iolo said mindlessly, and Veronica and Micah turned pleased smirks at him.

***

Finn

“Okay, don’t panic, don’t panic,” Finn mumbled to himself, bouncing slightly from foot to foot and rolling his shoulders back.  “I’ve got this.”  He clenched his hand closed tight before relaxing his fingers and pressing the doorbell.  The now familiar chime echoed inside the small house, and Finn was stuck unless he wanted to regress to his ding-dong ditcher days… And really, that had been Ben; Finn had just gone along for the ride…

“Yes?  Oh, hey,” Poe’s face going from blank to bright in a second as he looked over Finn, who swallowed and waved at him uselessly.  “What—you’re here.”

“If this was the wrong choice, I’m placing all the blame on Iolo,” Finn prefaced sheepishly.

“This was the perfect choice,” Poe replied easily, reaching out to pull Finn in for a peculiarly heartfelt kiss, and Finn responded enthusiastically, slinging his arms over Poe’s shoulders with a pleased hum.

“Then I’m taking all the credit,” Finn breathed when they pulled back to breath.

“Good.  I don’t want to kiss Iolo,” Poe teased, bumping their noses together and it was so sweet that Finn couldn’t keep his low chuckles at bay.

“I’m weirdly relieved to hear that.  After that snuggling at mine,” Finn hinted playfully and Poe rolled his eyes.

“I’m never living that down.”

“Never,” Finn agreed, stepping on Poe’s bare toes with one of his feet.

“How ‘bout you cuddle with Iolo and Bastian and we call it even?”

“I dunno…Bastian’s a pretty great cuddler and Iolo looked like he knew what he was doing,” Finn mused, tilting his head mockingly.  “I might not come back.”

“I think you might,” Poe hinted, digging his fingers into Finn’s side, and the younger man squirmed to get away.

“I’m guessing it’s not a Bible salesman,” called a deep voice from inside the house.

“Sir, have you been saved,” Finn dead-panned.

“Want to find out,” Poe countered with an exaggerated wink and Finn slapped him on the bicep in retaliation.  “Are you coming in or was this a drive-by kissing?”

“I’d be in there already but there’s this rude guy blocking my way,” Finn drawled.  Poe scowled playfully and stepped aside for Finn to slip inside, waiting for the older man to shut the door and lead on even though Finn knew his way by now.

“Papa, we’ve got a guest so pretend to be pleasant,” Poe declared as he strolled into the living room.  The man in the armchair shifted around to look, and Finn’s back straightened as the olive-skinned man’s dark eyes scanned over him.  He had the same hair as Poe’s—thick and wavy—but with streaks of white, and Finn exhaled relieved as the man’s eyes crinkled up along his laugh lines.

“Now, you must be the legendary Finn,” the man greeted, holding out a hand and Finn hastened over to spare the man from getting up with his crutches leaning against the small end table.

“Yes, sir.  It’s very nice to meet you,” Finn said, shaking Poe’s dad’s hand.

“Please, call me Kes,” he smiled before using his grip to pull Finn down into a crouch.  “Is he blackmailing you?  Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

“Papa,” Poe groaned behind Finn.  Finn kept his eyes on Kes and blinked once, slowly and purposely.  “And I saw that,” Poe snapped playfully, pinching Finn’s side.  Kes barked a deep, loud laugh and Finn flashed a bright smile at Poe.

“He’s keeping me against my will too,” Kes said cheerfully, releasing Finn’s hand and gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch.  “Together we can plot a daring escape.”

“And I did this to myself willingly,” Poe grumbled, picking up a mug from beside Kes and heading for the kitchen.  “Finn, do you want a drink?”

“Just water, thanks,” Finn replied.

“You’ll get what I give you,” Poe shot back.  “I’m the evil jailkeeper here, remember?”

“It’s awful.  He made me watch two hours of House Hunters International last night,” Kes told Finn with a definite twinkle in his eye.

Beaming back, Finn said, “And did the artist and the stay-at-homer with a family of twelve find a house in the city on the beach with twenty bedrooms for two hundred bucks?”

“Every time,” Kes laughed.  “And I can’t get my brakes fixed for less than three.”

“I don’t think I enjoy this budding friendship,” Poe informed them, coming back and passing the red mug back to his father and handing Finn a glass of ice water.  He slumped down on the couch next to Finn.

“It’s okay,” Finn comforted, patting Poe on the hand.  “I can fix your brakes for much less.”

“Is that so,” Kes asked, perking up.

“Sure,” Finn shrugged.  “I helped my uncle fix up his car.  And brakes aren’t too bad if you know what you’re doing.”

“Fixes cars and I hear I have you to thank for keeping my son’s roof from collapsing,” Kes said, leaning forward to scratch along the top of the black cast on his left leg.

Finn glanced back at the new supports.  “Well, that was more self-preservation than anything else.”

“Aren’t you full of jokes today,” Poe asked, crossing his arms and almost pouting if Finn wasn’t mistaken.  Finn shot him an apologetic look and rubbed his palm along Poe’s bicep.  Poe replied with a tired smile.

“Will you stay for lunch,” Kes asked gleefully and Poe chuckled, catching Finn’s hand on his arm and threading their fingers together.

“I’d love to,” Finn replied honestly.

“Then I either need to go shopping or grab the menus,” Poe said.

“Actually,” Finn started, fingers tightening around Poe’s to keep the older man from pulling away to stand, “I didn’t want to presume but…I brought food.”

“You brought--?  Mijo, where did you find him and does he have an older sibling?  Maybe thirty years older,” Kes mused.

Poe laughed and leaned over to kiss Finn on the cheek.  “He found me.”

“And I have a father, but I don’t think you want to open that can of worms,” Finn warned.

“Oh, I’ve had a run-in with Luke Skywalker,” Kes smiled knowingly and Poe’ and Finn’s jaws dropped.  “You’ll catch flies like that.”

“When did that happen,” Poe asked flabbergasted.

“Guatemala, 1996,” Kes answered easily, glancing down at his mug.  “He was a force of nature back then.”

“Nothing’s changed in that respect,” Finn said mindlessly.

“No?  Time hasn’t slowed him down,” Kes asked jokingly.

“I wish,” Finn sighed.  Kes smiled kindly.

“He told me about you, back then.  I forgot all about it until Poe mentioned you.” 

“Was that before you joined Mom and me,” Poe asked, his face pinched in thought.

“Just a few months before,” Kes nodded.  “I was lost in the Cuchumatanes Mountains—I was trying get to my great-aunt’s village and he was looking for weapon caches.  It’s pitch-black, and I run smack into this little blond, well, he looked about twenty.  He had no supplies, no nothing, and I’m about ready to leave him there because it didn’t pay to deal with strangers at the time.  Then he turned to me and started telling me about his four-year-old son.  And I started telling him about Poe—that’s how fathers are—and before I knew it he recruited me.”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” Finn mumbled, scratching his ear.  “He just—has a way getting people to go along with him.  Poe knows that,” he said, winking over at his boyfriend.

“Food,” Poe asked instead, avoiding Kes’s curious look.

Finn snorted.  “Yeah, I’ll grab the stuff from my car.  Spaghetti with marinara sauce okay with you?”  Finn glanced from Poe’s look of wonder to Kes’s wide smile and nodded slowly.  “Well, alright then.  I’ll be right back.”

***

Bastian

“Well, what do you think,” Bastian whispered to Micah while Mickey and Essie pressed their faces against the tank, watching piranhas swim by lazily.

“I didn’t know they had a petting zoo,” Micah replied, smiling when Bastian rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the ribs.  “I like him.”

“You like everyone,” Bastian whined, checking over his shoulder to make sure Iolo was out of earshot.  Veronica had him over by the blurb about rainforest trees, probably telling another story from Bastian’s long awkward teen phase.  “But do you like him?”

Micah chuckled lowly, slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders.  “Yes, I do.  He’s…steady.”

Bastian tilted his head, considering.  “I guess.  I didn’t think about it like that.”  Then he cracked a smile.  “Remember what you said about Jamie?”

Micah’s jaw tightened, chin drawing up.  “I said he was combustible.  Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said that everything incandescent was combustible,” Bastian answered, glancing back at Iolo again, and catching the other man looking at him.  Bastian wiggled his fingers in a wave and Iolo winked back.

“And I told you to be careful you didn’t get burned,” Micah said, drawing Bastian’s attention back.

“Well, at least that didn’t happen,” Bastian offered with a sad smile.  “About the only thing that didn’t happen actually.”

Micah hummed in agreement to that.  “You’ll take your time this time around, won’t you?  You and Jamie were always racing—like you knew there was a deadline.”

“I—um,” Bastian ducked his head.  “It doesn’t feel rushed this time.  I mean, I haven’t moved in with him yet so that’s something.  Or had sex.”

“I don’t need every last detail,” Micah mentioned, squeezing Bastian against his side while the younger man cackled.  “But that’s good to hear.”

“Daddy, can we see the bugs,” Essie asked, suddenly at Micah’s leg.

“Of course, sweetness.  Why don’t you ask your mother if she wants to join us,” Micah suggested with an easy smile.  Essie skipped away and Micah shifted to stand in front of Bastian, one hand of each of Bastian’s shoulders.  “I’m happy for you, baby brother.  I hope this turns out well for you.”

“Love you too,” Bastian said sheepishly, stepping into the embrace naturally.  “I’m good.  Promise.”

“I believe you,” Micah whispered back, pulling back with a quick slap on the back.

“I hear there are bugs to be seen,” Veronica announced, Essie and Mickey on either side.

“We shouldn’t keep the beetles waiting,” Micah teased, running a hand over Mickey’s short hair before they started off around the curve of the passage.  Bastian hung back, catching Iolo’s hand.

“Wanna sneak away,” Bastian asked quietly.

Iolo tapped a finger to his chin, thinking.  “I dunno.  Those beetles sound pretty tempting.”

“Shut up,” Bastian rolled his eyes, tugging Iolo towards the stairs.  “Come on, I want to show you my favorite place before the kids get there.”

“Of course you have a favorite place in the zoo,” Iolo mumbled almost to himself as he kept pace with Bastian up the wooden staircase. 

“You’ll get it when you see it,” Bastian promised, stopping by the windowed door and pulling it open, gesturing for Iolo to go first through the heavy plastic curtains.

“Whoa,” Iolo marveled, looking around at the platform in the treetops.  “Why haven’t I been here before?”

“ ‘Cause you didn’t have me to show you,” Bastian said lightly, following him in.  “Do you see the parrot?”

“No,” Iolo drew out, taking a few steps further in and spinning slowly, eyes darting around from flower to tree to bird screech.  Bastian smiled as the older man approached the railing and looked over, down to the fish swimming more busily now as a zoo worker dropped food down to them.  Then there was a flash of red, and Bastian reached out a griped Iolo’s arm.

“There he is,” Bastian grinned, pointing as the parrot landed on a high branch.  Iolo chuckled lightly, wrapping his arms around Bastian’s waist and looking at the brightly feathered bird over the younger man’s shoulder.

“Is he your friend,” Iolo joked and Bastian leaned back against his chest.

“He’s been here forever,” Bastian said instead.  “He’s the only one here.”

“Really?  That’s kinda sad,” Iolo mentioned, eyes suddenly dropping from the parrot to Bastian’s profile.

“It is,” Bastian agreed, still watching the bird.  “But he still caws and flies around so…maybe he doesn’t mind that he’s alone.  Or maybe he doesn’t know he’s alone, ya know?”  Then Iolo’s arms pulled away but, before Bastian could ask, hands settled on Bastian’s hips, urging him to turn around. 

Iolo was biting his bottom lip when Bastian turned to face him.  Bastian frowned; he didn’t mean to make Iolo sad.  But Iolo cupped Bastian’s left cheek and exhaled heavily.  “It’s hard to know you’re lonely until you know what you’re missing, right?”

And Bastian knew damn well they weren’t talking about the parrot anymore.  “I guess… You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Iolo huffed a soft laugh, bringing his other hand up to hold Bastian’s face, cradled between his palms.  “I tend to…psych myself out.  But somehow—not with you.”

“Well, let’s keep it going,” Bastian joked and Iolo swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Can I kiss you, Bastian?”

Bastian blinked.  “I dunno.  Can you?”

“Oh my God,” Iolo bowed his head, smiling.  “What are you, my fourth-grade teacher?”

“Did you want to kiss your fourth-grade teacher,” Bastian asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Iolo exhaled heavily through his nose.  “Funnily enough, sixty-year-old Mrs. Webdale didn’t do it for me.  Alright, you win that one.  May I kiss you?”

“Well, now, you see, here’s the thing,” Bastian sighed dramatically and Iolo narrowed his eyes in response.  “I was gonna ask to kiss you by the prairie dogs and I feel like you’ve just one-upped me.”

“Prairie dogs, huh?  Any reason behind that,” Iolo asked, playing along, smiling softly.

“They’re cute, you’re cute—just made sense in my head,” Bastian shrugged, smiling as Iolo leaned forward.

“You can kiss me by the prairie dogs,” Iolo breathed.

“You may kiss me while my parrot friend judges us,” Bastian countered, tilting his chin up challengingly.  Iolo’s lips twitched, like he was stopping himself from laughing, and then he leaned that last inch closer and Bastian swallowed Iolo’s exhale, lips meeting parted and tender.

Bastian’s arms snaked around Iolo’s waist and pulled him closer, leaning his head back to accommodate.  His eyes slid shut and one of Iolo’s hands skimmed down his bent neck to hold the base of Bastian’s skull while Iolo’s lips moved, his nose tapping the side of Bastian’s.  Lips turning up, Bastian followed, his fingers clenching around the fabric of Iolo’s shirt.

Bastian felt something jab him in the small of the back and he turned his head without moving back, and Iolo’s lips slipped to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, then his earlobe.

“Incoming,” Veronica’s voice whispered and Bastian’s eyes popped open.

“Daddy!  Look!”

“Jesus,” Iolo breathed into Bastian’s ear as the younger man moved his hands to rest on Iolo’s shoulders and looked down at Mickey’ and Essie’s expectant faces.

“Does that mean you’re gonna get married,” Mickey asked, grinning.

“Uh,” Bastian started.

“Can I be flower girl,” Essie begged, clasping her hands together and sending Iolo an angelic look.  Iolo shot Bastian a helpless look while Veronica snickered disobligingly.

Bastian licked his lips and decided he was the only one willing to tackle this one as Micah hung back by the door, nodding encouragingly.  “Well, munchkins, we’re not at the marrying stage right now.”

“But you were kissing, like Mama and Daddy,” Mickey said sensibly.

“Yes,” Bastian drew out, thinking.  “But--,”

“It’s like Aladdin,” Iolo said suddenly, his hand stroking the back of Bastian’s neck.  “Remember, Aladdin and Jasmine kiss in the first movie, but they don’t get married until the third.”

“Nice,” Bastian hissed impressed and Iolo winked at him.

“So no flower girl,” Essie asked disappointed.

“Not yet,” Bastian replied.  “But when I get married you and Mickey will be my first choice for flower—people.”

Essie and Mickey beamed at that and before they had a chance to delve any deeper into the budding relationship, Iolo asked, “Do either of you see the parrot?  We were looking for him and couldn’t find him.”

The children set to the new task vigorously, Mickey almost falling over as he craned his neck back to look at the treetops.

“Nicely done,” Veronica complimented.

“Yeah, you two were no help,” Bastian scowled, sending a glare at his brother.  Iolo took a step to stand beside Bastian, hand caressing down the younger man’s arm lazily until he folded their fingers together easily, almost naturally, and Bastian smiled down at the linked hands.

“I thought you could handle it,” Micah shrugged.  Bastian rolled his eyes and his brother continued, “Where to next?”

“Actually, Bastian and I have an appointment with the prairie dogs,” Iolo said casually and Bastian coughed, surprised.  “Why don’t we meet up there, after the kids see the petting zoo?”

“Sounds good,” Veronica answered, sending a knowing look Bastian’s way while Bastian tried to look innocent.

“Lead the way,” Iolo suggested softly in Bastian’s ear and the younger man turned and started pulling Iolo after him towards the far exit.

“I can’t believe you just used ‘prairie dogs’ as a euphemism.  Who are you,” Bastian muttered, dodging a family on the stairs.

“Sorry,” Iolo said, unapologetically.  “Should I go back and explain that I want to keep kissing you uninterrupted?”

“Not a chance,” Bastian grinned, hurrying them through the gift shop and then out into the sharp sunlight of a summer afternoon.  He looked around, trying to orient himself, but Iolo tugged him to the left.  Following, Bastian was guided to an alcove of a service entrance.  He opened his mouth to ask but then Iolo had him back against the brick wall and he smirked.  “Oh, you’ve got all the good ideas.”

“Stick with me; I’ll teach you all the tricks,” Iolo teased, bracing his forearms on either side of Bastian’s head.  Bastian rolled his eyes at the line but slotted one of his legs between Iolo’s.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured back, hand twisting the front of Iolo’s shirt and pulling his closer.  

*****

Poe

“You’re staring more than I am,” Poe mentioned, handing his father a mug of dark coffee.  Kes accepted it with a chuckle and Poe folded himself down into the chair at the kitchen table beside his father and joined him in looking out the screen door to the back yard.  Finn was lying on his stomach, supporting his torso with his arms and focused on the three feet long brown rabbit that was munching its way towards him.

“He’s delightful,” Kes replied, holding the mug between his hands.  “He seems oddly fixated on coasters.”

“I’m going to buy some,” Poe shrugged as BB inched closer to Finn and the man slowly began to reach for the carrot in his back pocket.  “I think it’ll really seal the deal.”

Kes chuckled, shooting his son a knowing look.  “You young people and your mating rituals.”

“Never say ‘mating rituals’ again,” Poe ordered, although he smiled as BB stopped, nose twitching around Finn’s mouth, which twisted up into a smile as he held out the carrot in offering.  “If BB likes him, I’m done for.”

“You were ‘done for’ when you spent half an hour describing his laugh,” Kes countered, taking a sip of coffee.

“It was five minutes, tops,” Poe defended half-heartedly as BB shuffled closer and took a cautious nibble from the carrot.  “That story about Skywalker—was it true?”

“Yes,” Kes nodded, glancing over at his son.  “Why?”

“You never mentioned it before.”

“Well, the war was coming to an end…it was a chaotic time.  And I suddenly got my visa to join you and your mother after waiting for years—that was more important than running around the rainforest one night with a strange little blond man,” Kes smiled.

Poe hummed, watching as BB finished the carrot and nudged his head against Finn’s hand.  “Small world.”

“Well, for Skywalker, it probably is.  He’s been everywhere,” Kes shrugged, adjusting his foot cushioned on another chair.  “You’re thinking very loudly.”

“Your visa request got approved right after you helped Luke,” Poe said.  Kes frowned, taking another sip of his coffee.  “Do you think--,”

“I don’t think he had that kind of influence,” Kes answered gently.  “He was very young.  I also got the impression he wasn’t meant to be out there in the first place.”

“Right,” Poe agreed doubtfully.  “Well, it was just a thought.”

“Poe, look,” Finn called through the screen door, drawing Poe’s attention back to where BB had crept his way under Finn’s arms and was gnawing the grass with his furry back under Finn’s chin.

“And you were afraid of a giant rodent,” Poe mocked, reaching out and pulling the door open from his seat.

“I was mildly concerned,” Finn corrected, “that he would crush me under his excessive body mass.”

“You’d be more at risk with a wolfhound,” Kes said, offering his two-cents.  Poe rolled his eyes while Finn thought that over.

“I never had a pet growing up,” Finn mentioned.  “They’re kinda fun.”

“They’re particularly fun when they get left with you by your adult son without any warning,” Kes drawled and Poe shot him a winning smile, which Kes shook his head at.

“Poe, can you take a picture?  Rey doesn’t believe that you have a twenty-pound bunny,” Finn explained, keeping his chin on BB’s back but holding out his cellphone.  Poe got to his feet as his dad whispered,

“Wrapped around his little finger.”

“Real mature,” Poe hissed back before making his way down the two steps to the lawn.  He took the offered phone and sat down.

“What were you talking about,” Finn asked, mouth stretching into a wide smile as Poe snapped four quick pictures with the younger man’s phone.

“Oh, he thinks your fascination with coasters is disturbing,” Poe answered easily, smirking as Finn’s jaw dropped and snapping another picture.  He sent it to Rey while Finn was distracted.

“I’m not fascinated by coasters!”

“I’ll get you some.  I’ll have them monogramed and everything,” Poe teased, putting the phone by his hip and folding his hands in his lap.  “What’s your middle name?”

“I don’t have one.  There was some confusion at the hospital.  The way Dad tells it, the notary showed up when he was half-asleep and just started badgering him.  He wasn’t really paying attention so he got out ‘Finn Skywalker’ and then the lady just walked away.”

“And your mom,” Poe asked hesitantly.  Finn stroked one of BB’s ears.

“She was gone by then,” he answered simply.  Poe nodded slowly, not pressing, and Finn sighed, holding out a hand, which Poe took.  “She was a busy lady.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

“There’s a picture—of her holding me.  I was about four months old.  That was the last time we ever saw her,” Finn replied honestly, squeezing Poe’s fingers.  “It’s okay.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Poe said.  BB shuffled away and Finn pulled himself closer to the older man.

“I figured I should cut the dark and mysterious act now that we’re dating,” Finn joked.

“I’d appreciate that,” Poe chuckled.  “I mean, it definitely lured me in, but now I’m hooked.”

“So I should reel you in and gut you?”

“How about we skip the gutting part,” Poe suggested, bending at his waist to meet Finn’s upturned face in a soft kiss.

“I’m still here,” Kes announced, “since you’ve seemed to forget.  And I’m stuck here unless one of you want to get my crutches.”

Groaning, Poe pulled back and grimaced.  “Careful or I’ll make you watch more HGTV.”

“There’s a Nationals game,” Finn proposed mischievously and Poe scowled.

“Baseball’s dumb.”

“Two against one,” Kes laughed.  “Quick, Finn, before he hides the remote.”

“On it,” Finn laughed, pushing himself to his feet.  He paused to plant a quick kiss on the top of Poe’s head before bouncing up the steps.

“You’re the worst,” Poe informed his father.

“Surprising as this might be, I didn’t think you wanted me watching that,” Kes said drily.

Rolling his eyes, Poe picked up Finn’s phone, gave BB a quick scratch between the ears, and got to his feet.  “Fine.  But if I’m sitting through three hours of baseball, you owe me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kes drawled as Poe helped him up, slinging one of his arms around Poe’s shoulders.  “I can fall asleep in the seventh inning and give you some privacy.”

“Thanks, Papa,” Poe smiled, depositing Kes in the armchair and sinking down next to Finn on the couch.  Finn raised an eyebrow but Poe just shook his head, settling back into the cushions.  Seven innings… How long could that take?  

Chapter Text

Two Years Earlier

Finn fidgeted, glancing around the small room he’d been left in and told to wait for someone named Karé.  But that had been twenty minutes ago and ten was getting closer and closer and he didn’t even know what studio he was in and he had to set up and what if he hadn’t saved the sets he’d spent literally a day on and was this room always this hot or was he about to faint…

“Hey, can I help you,” asked a voice suddenly and Finn could have collapsed in relief because that was the first voice he’d heard since the abrupt lady had abandoned him.  Finn looked up at the slightly taller man, dark smooth skin and a concerned expression.

“I’m new,” Finn blurted out, thrusting out a hand in offering. 

“Yeah, I figured,” the man replied, shaking Finn’s hand briskly before returning his hand to the pocket of his jacket.  “Did you get lost or something?”

“I’m—Karé is supposed to meet me and help me set up.  It’s my first night.”

The other man’s face twitched at that before settling into a tight smile.  “You’re taking over the overnight slot.”

“Yeah.  I’m Finn, by the way.”

“Bastian.  Well, judging by the time, Karé probably got caught up with something.”  And even though Finn kinda knew that already, it hurt.  “So I’ll show you the ropes,” Bastian finished with a shrug.

“Seriously?  That—thank you,” Finn rushed, barely restraining the need to embrace the man in front of him.  “Thank you so much.”

“Least I can do,” Bastian shrugged again and then jerked his head towards the door.  “You’ll be in studio four most nights.  It’s the closest to the bathrooms so it’s practical, ya know?”

“Right,” Finn nodded, following Bastian down the hall, passing a few dark offices before Bastian pushed the door open to a small studio. 

“You’ve got your sets on your laptop,” Bastian asked, flicking on the light switch.

“I fucking hope so,” Finn mumbled, pulling his laptop out of his bag and opening it, balancing it against his forearm as he typed in his password one-handed.

“The connector is right over here,” Bastian continued as he powered up the sound board.  “And I’m guessing you had orientation at some point about working this little beauty?”

“What?  Oh,” Finn blinked down at the knobs and slides Bastian was quickly adjusting and testing.  “Yeah, uh, I’ve got the hang of that at least.”

“Great,” Bastian praised idly before stepping back.  “Go ahead.”

Finn swallowed drily before approaching.  His fingers fumbled the connector twice before he managed to hook up his laptop.  Then he tripped into the rolling office seat, skidding backwards and bumping into the back wall.  “Shit.”

“Nervous,” Bastian asked.  Finn shook his head, not looking up, and a warm hand clapped down on his shoulder.  “Listen, Lando has a nose for talent.  If he hired you, it’s because he sees potential.  You’re here because you’re good.  So take a deep breath, relax before you break your teeth, and I’ll finish setting you up.”

“Thanks,” Finn whispered, trying to breathe away the tightness in his chest.

“It’s no problem.  Not like I haven’t done this all before,” Bastian joked, flashing Finn a genuine smile over his shoulder before he turned back and tested the playback—‘Shut Up and Dance with Me’ echoed through the room and Bastian leaned over and slid the bass down slightly.  “Good choice.”

“Well, I figured I’d start off upbeat and tone it down around one,” Finn said as Bastian paused the song and reset.

“For a Wednesday, that’s solid,” Bastian agreed, straightened and turned back to face Finn.  “Well, you should be all set.  The news will wrap at 9:56 and then commercials.  Did you sign in when you got here?”

“What?”

“Okay, don’t panic,” Bastian reassured, turning back to Finn’s laptop.  “They set you up with an office email and all that shit, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn drew out, standing and moving to hover at Bastian’s shoulder.  Bastian opened Finn’s Outlook and clicked over to his Lync.

“So, when you arrive, send a quick message with your timeslot and the studio you’re in.  There’s a schedule, obviously, but this is easier for whoever you’re taking over for.  So, here’s the ‘Late News’ group.  I’ll just let them know you’re set in Studio Four,” Bastian explained as he typed and Finn watched, “and that you’re taking the overnight shift.  That way they know who to throw it to.  And when you’re starting to wrap up, keep an eye for a message from ‘Traffic and Weather.’  They’re usually in Studio Two.  There you go,” he finished, sending the message with a flourish.

“Seriously, you’re a fucking angel,” Finn informed Bastian, who snorted and shook his head.

“It’s all good, Finn.  Welcome to DC105.  Do you want me to stick around for your first couple sets or will that make you more nervous?”

“Uh,” Finn blinked.  “You probably have better places to be.”

“Funnily enough, I just found out I’ve got some spare time,” Bastian answered, moseying over and sitting in the worn wooden chair in the corner of the studio.  “I’ll stay for the first hour.  That’s the roughest.”

*****

“Ah, Finn, come in,” Lando smiled charmingly even at five in the morning.  Finn beamed, practically bouncing into Lando’s office with adrenaline and caffeine.

“Morning, Lando.  Are you always in this early?”

“No, but I wanted to check in after your first night,” Lando said, leaning back in his seat, eyes curved up happily.  “I take it there was no disasters?”

“Nope,” Finn answered.  “I was pretty nervous at the beginning, but Bastian helped me out.  He’s really great.”

“Bastian,” Lando repeated, face falling.  “You mean Karé.”

“No, she was a no-show,” Finn shrugged.  “But Bastian found me and helped me set up.  And then he stayed for the first hour.  He had some really good tips for transitions.  Why are you looking at me like that,” he asked while Lando frowned up at him.

“Lando, we’ve got Yvonne filling in for Karé this morning,” announced a freckle-faced man with Ray-Bans and short reddish-blond hair who leaned against Lando’s office doorframe.  “She’s having a full panic attack about this wedding shit so I told her to take the day.  I’ll call around and see who can cover her evening slot.”

“Thanks, Iolo,” Lando said as Finn cut it with,

“Maybe Bastian could take it.  He sounded like he had some time.”

“Who the hell is Bastian,” Iolo asked, looking Finn over.  “And who are you?”

“Bastian is the tech I fired two days ago,” Lando sighed and Finn’s head snapped around to gap at his boss.  “And this is the new guy, Finn Walker.”

“Fired?  You fired him,” Finn snapped, placing his hands on the edge of Lando’s desk.  “Why?  He’s amazing!”

“Finn,” Lando started kindly, getting to his feet.  “Sometimes these things happen.”

“But—but,” Finn stammered, “he knows his stuff and he’s so nice--,”

“Kid, ‘nice’ doesn’t help ratings,” Iolo said blandly, looking down at the clipboard in his hand.  “And if he’s been working here and I haven’t heard of him, it was probably time for him to move on.”

“What, are you the radio god,” Finn glared, crossing his arms and Iolo slowly raised his eyes to look over Finn again.  “Lando, can’t you give him another chance?  Why’d you fire him anyway?”  Lando cleared his throat, shuffling some paper around on his desk and Finn’s stomach dropped.  “You fired him to make space for me.”

“I think you’ve got a future here,” Lando replied blandly.  “And that’s the end of it, Finn.”

“But--,”

“Go get some sleep,” Lando said, sounding like the uncle Finn remembered from his childhood.  It was infuriating.  “Be back here by 4:30.  I want you to cover the evening slot.”

“You sure,” Iolo asked behind Finn.

“He can do it,” Lando answered, keeping his eyes trained on Finn’s face.  Finn scowled but nodded, turning to leave before turning back abruptly.

“You better pay him for last night,” Finn shot at Lando, pointing.  “Because he had no reason to stay and help me but he did anyway.  And maybe being nice doesn’t matter here, but he’s a good person and deserves at least that much.”  Then Finn spun on his heel and marched out, shrugging his bag higher onto his shoulder. 

“Wait, kid!  Hold on a sec.”

Finn’s arm was grabbed and he was pulled to a halt.  “I’m gonna go home,” Finn grumbled and Iolo sighed.

“Yeah, and I’ve got an actual job to do.  But listen: what you said back there was—stupid and naïve as fuck but, it’s cool that you’re looking out for your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Finn mumbled.  “Met him last night and he helped me.”

“Okay,” Iolo said, stepping to the side to let a woman pass.  “How about you have him send me his portfolio and I’ll shop it around.  I’ve got some contacts at other stations.”

“I don’t know his number.  Or last name,” Finn admitted softly.  “I just—I thought I’d see him around.  I even said that and he didn’t—didn’t say anything.”

“God, kid, you’re breaking my heart here,” Iolo groaned, casting his eyes to the ceiling.  “Look, just—go home.  I’ll see what I can do.”

Finn knew that probably didn’t mean anything.  The man hadn’t even known Bastian—he didn’t have any reason to care if Bastian got a new job or not.  “Sure.  See you later—unless Lando fires you too,” Finn grumbled, starting off down the hall as Iolo’s laugh echoed off the walls.

*****

He had half a mind not to show up for the evening slot, but Finn wasn’t an idiot.  He needed the job, and Lando wouldn’t stand for anyone screwing with his precious station.  Already feeling a sense of familiarity about the low building, Finn made his way up the stairs and pulled open the glass door.  The blast of AC hit him and he was thankful he remembered to bring a sweater this time.  He headed for the break room to fill his water bottle and then to check in with the sports show he was taking over for.  He was sitting at the small table in the break room when a familiar form strolled by the open door and kept moving.  Finn slammed his laptop shut and rushed out, opening his mouth to call out when another voice beat him to it.

“You must be Bastian,” Iolo said, stepping out of one of the offices and Bastian stopped, back to Finn.  “I’m Iolo.”

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Bastian answered, sounding less confident than the man Finn met last night.  “I heard there was some mix-up?  But I filled out all the papers HR gave me and I dropped them off last night…”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Iolo nodded, catching Finn’s eye over Bastian’s shoulder briefly.  “I have your overtime pay for last night.”

“Oh.  No, that’s not necessary,” Bastian shook his head.  “I’ve already got my severance check so…it’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need that back,” Iolo said carelessly.  “I hope you didn’t spend it already.”

“What?  No, I—you can’t take it back,” Bastian said somewhat frantically and Finn took a step forward.  “My contract states that I get two weeks in case of termination.  I know because the HR lady was very clear--,”

“Yes, ‘in case of termination,’” Iolo smirked.  “I have your new contract here too.  Read it over, but try to get back to me by tomorrow afternoon.  We’re gonna need you back in your Friday night slot.”

“New--?  I don’t—what’s going on here,” Bastian asked, sounding completely lost and Finn felt the same way.

“We need a sound tech to cover Karé’s slots while she takes some time off.  We’re also planning on expanding our content, and we’ll need a tech for that.  Plus, late-night shifts are notorious for burning DJs out, so we’re going to limit how many someone can take per month.”

“You just got a new guy,” Bastian stated.  “I—look, if this is a joke, it’s really not funny.  So I’m going to keep my severance and you can keep—that and we can go back to our regularly scheduled lives.”

“You spent twenty minutes on the line with a man with what sounded like severe depression,” Iolo said, his eyes catching Finn’s again while Bastian fidgeted.

“Yeah,” Bastian sighed, Finn barely catching it as he took another step closer, “I did.”

“That’s why you didn’t cut to commercials, right?  Because you didn’t want put the guy on hold.  You just clicked to your next set and kept talking to him, right,” Iolo pressed and Bastian nodded slowly.  “Why didn’t you say that when Lando chewed you out?”

“Not my story to tell,” Bastian shrugged, sounding painfully sincere.  “Besides, every call to the booths get recorded.  If Lando cared, he could’ve looked it up.  Like you clearly did.”

“I only looked it up because I was told you were a nice guy who was good at his job,” Iolo said with a slight smile.  “And that didn’t gel with the image of a guy who didn’t give a damn about sponsors.”

“Well, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to,” Bastian grumbled.  “I’m pretty sure no one here knows me like that.”

“I beg to differ,” Iolo smirked before glancing down at something Finn couldn’t see.  “So, understandably, the station doesn’t want to be sued for firing a guy who was doing a good deed.”

“Yeah, you really don’t have to worry about that.  No hard feelings.  Plus, what would I pay a lawyer with: magic beans?”

“Bastian, you sure aren’t making this easy,” Iolo said, more firmly.  “We screwed up.  We need people like you here: people who do a good job and are decent people.  Take the damn contract, make me wait until tomorrow for your counteroffer.  I’m going to come back fair and you’re going to take it unless you have a better offer already lined up.  Okay?”     

Finn missed Bastian’s reply because someone’s back bumped into him, sending his stumbling forward.  “Oh, sorry about that, buddy,” came a bright cheerful voice and a strong hand reached out to steady Finn’s arm.

“It’s—fine,” Finn finished lamed, blinking up at the most attractive man he’d ever seen.  There was no way someone’s hair could look like that.  And those eyes.  What the hell?

“I wasn’t looking where I was going.  I always get lost in this place,” the man explained, still smiling in a frozen sort of way.

“Hey, man.  Sorry for the wait,” Iolo said, suddenly at Finn’s side.  “See you’ve met the station’s new vanguard for justice.”

“What,” the man asked confused.

“Thank you.  Seriously,” Finn told Iolo, voice hushed as he noticed Bastian was leaning against the wall, skimming through tri-folded pages.  “I—I kinda figured you’d forget about it…”

“Jeez, thanks, kid,” Iolo rolled his eyes.  “Give me some credit.  Besides, you saved us a good tech.”

“You’re not as much of a hardnose as you pretend,” Finn smiled.  Iolo’s jaw dropped and the other man barked a surprised laugh.

“Iolo the hardnose?!  When the fuck did that happen?”

“Shut up, Poe.  I hate you,” Iolo snapped, starting off down the hall.  Poe, still chuckling, turned to follow before glancing back at Finn.

“Don’t let him fool ya, buddy.  Iolo’s just a teddy bear with an attitude.”

“I’m kinda figuring that out,” Finn smiled back and the man blinked at him before shaking his head and moving to catch up with Iolo.  Finn slumped back against the wall, casting his eyes up to ceiling as he exhaled heavily.

“Probably out of our leagues,” Bastian mentioned from his similar position, winking when Finn rolled his head to look at him.

“Yeah,” Finn agreed with a sigh, hugging his laptop to his chest as he crossed his arms.  “Still, a guy can dream.”

“And keep dreaming,” Bastian teased, tucking his folded packet of papers into the back pocket of his jeans casually.  “They have you doing double shifts?”

“There was some mix-up,” Finn said, slightly stretching the truth, “so I’m filling in for Karé until they sort it out.  You?”

“Picking up some paperwork,” Bastian answered easily.  “Feel like I’m drowning in it this week.”

“Well, since you’re here,” Finn drew out and Bastian tilted his head curiously, “maybe you could stay for my first set?  In case I feel like I’m about to vomit again?”

Bastian laughed but shrugged.  “Sure, why not?  Just aim away from the soundboard.  You don’t want to know how hard those are to clean.”     

Chapter Text

**Two Weeks Later**

“Hey, babe,” Bastian’s voice echoed through Finn’s Ford.

“Bastian, I—are you okay,” Finn broke off, clicking on his turn signal as he switched lanes and the bone-tired tone of his friend’s voice sinking through the fog in Finn’s mind.

“Eh, been having a rough week on the sleeping front,” Bastian admitted with a groan and Finn could just picture it—Bastian sprawled across the yellow couch because it was his favorite, heavy bags under his eyes, probably wearing whatever he’d worn to work the night before because he was too tired to manage the ladder to the loft.  “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Finn frowned, his eyes glancing down to the GPS to make sure his exit was coming up.  It was like he was out in the middle of nowhere; who knew Maryland had so many trees.  “N-nothing, I’m just driving around and—thought I’d check in.”

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart,” Bastian rasped and Finn swallowed drily, already trying to come up with a plan.  Anything to take his mind off his destination.  “I’m fine, babe.  You know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed mindlessly, going through his options.  “Um, have you called Iolo?  Maybe he could come over?  I would but I’m out in Maryland--,”

“Don’t need a babysitter,” Bastian chuckled gruffly.  “Anyway, he’s busy.  Don’t worry about it, okay?  I think tonight might be the night I sleep.  Got a good feeling about it.”

“Okay,” Finn drew out hesitantly.  “But—you can call me if you need to.”

“I know, babe,” Bastian murmured softly and sincerely and Finn felt a little lighter than he had since he’d gotten the call that morning.  “Enjoy your drive-about.  If you want to—I’m here to listen.  Whatever’s on your mind.”

“I know,” Finn echoed, lips twitching up.  “You’re the best.  I hope you get to sleep.”

“Here’s hoping,” Bastian said, adding, “Take care,” before he ended the call.  Finn’s hand was on the touchscreen instantly, scrolling down his contacts list, one eye on the empty road, until he found the one he was looking for.

It rang through to voicemail and Finn pressed ‘Call’ again instantly.

It rang three times before it was answered with an irritated, “What?”

“Can you go and check on Bas,” Finn asked, clicking on his turn signal and taking the exit marked with a brown and white sign.

Iolo heaved a deep sigh and Finn narrowed his eyes.  “I’m a little busy, Finn.  I’m drowning in fucking ridiculous edits—like, how the hell can I cut the length when it’s thirteen pages?!”

“He can’t sleep,” Finn interjected firmly.

There was a silent pause over the line before Finn heard the sound of shuffling and Iolo asked exasperatedly, “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Figure it out,” Finn snapped, slowing as the speed limit dropped.  “You’re his boyfriend—this is under your jurisdiction now.”

“Boyfriend,” Iolo repeated, sounding a little too surprised for Finn’s tastes.

“Yeah, boyfriend.  You’ve gone on dates, you’ve cuddled him multiple times, you’ve met his family, you’ve kissed—congratulations, you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Well, fuck,” Iolo breathed out and Finn barely kept the growl from escaping his throat.

“Now isn’t the time to be freaking out over titles, dude.”

“Yeah, okay,” Iolo replied tightly.  “I’ll—I’ll go over.  I’ll—figure it out.”

“Kinda the least you could do,” Finn pointed out, annoyed, taking another turn-off before sighing.  “Sorry.  I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Join the club,” Iolo muttered, the sound of a door closing resounding through Finn’s car’s speakers.  “Do you want me to let you know when I put my boyfriend down for his nap?”

Finn rolled his eyes, following the signs with one hand on the steering wheel, the other massaging his temple.  “You’re kind of a brat, aren’t you?”

Iolo snorted at that.  “I’m the most responsible person in this gang, so let that sink in,” he grumbled before hanging up and Finn stopped at the red-painted gate, putting his car into park while he waited for the guard to approach.

“Name and business,” the guard asked briskly.

“Finn Skywalker,” Finn answered, holding out his driver’s license.  “I’m meeting my father’s flight from Stuttgart.  Luke Skywalker.  Medical transport.”

The guard inspected the license, shining his flashlight into Finn’s face, but he didn’t flinch.  “Wait here, sir,” the guard ordered, taking the ID with him back to the metal-plated low building.  Finn sighed, bumping his head back against the headrest and scanning the sign beside him.

Government Property

Andrews Air Force Base

*****

“I’ve been informed we’re boyfriends,” Iolo announced, hands on his hips.

“Yippee,” Bastian replied groggily, his body slumped against the side of his door, squinting at Iolo like he wasn’t sure if he was real.  Iolo nodded once, accepting that response, and made his way into Bastian’s apartment, bumping his shoulder gently against the younger man’s in solidarity.  “Did I call you,” Bastian asked, closing the door and leaning back against it, watching Iolo march purposefully towards the long wooden table.

“No, you didn’t,” Iolo answered immediately, pulling out the box of chamomile tea, the vial of lavender oil, and some kind of room spray that was supposed to be relaxing and laying them out on the table.  Bastian wandered over, swaying with each step, and Iolo watched concerned until Bastian reached the table and started picking up the new items.

“Is this for me,” Bastian asked confused, rotating the box of tea in his hands, as if it would respond.

“No, it’s for Ibrahim,” Iolo drawled, placing his messenger bag gently on the table, unsnapping the buckles, and sliding his laptop and manila folder out.

“He’s more of a mint tea guy,” Bastian mumbled, still looking at the box in his hands like he was deciphering it.  Iolo snatched in out of his grasp and turned away towards the sink.

“I’ll keep that in mind.  Do you have a kettle,” Iolo called over his shoulder, opening cabinets.

“Next to the stove,” Bastian said, boosting himself up to sit on the table and watching as Iolo opened the correct cabinet door and took out the small cooper kettle and went back to the sink.  “What’s going on here?”

“You can’t sleep,” Iolo informed the other man, filling the kettle halfway.

“I noticed,” Bastian smiled, blinking slowly. 

“Well,” Iolo started, cracking a smile for the first time that day, “as your boyfriend, it’s my duty to make sure you sleep.”

“Huh.  Is that a new requirement?”

Iolo glanced at the younger man as he placed the kettle on the stovetop and lit the burner.  “Jamie never did anything like this?”

Bastian tilted his head a little too far so he ended up with his ear squished to his shoulder.  “Ya know, he hated that word.”

“What?”

“He hated the word ‘boyfriend,’” Bastian elaborated, picking at the corner of Iolo’s folder without opening it.  Iolo approached slowly, stopping just in front of the man on the table and crossing his arms.  “Anytime someone asked if I was his boyfriend—damn, I can still hear him saying this—he’d go ‘no.  Friends come and go.  Friends aren’t committed.  He’s my partner.  He’s chosen to wake up every day next to me.  He’s chosen to be with me no matter what.  Friends don’t do that.’”

Iolo blinked while Bastian avoided his eye contact.  “Do you believe that?”

“Have you met Finn and Rey,” Bastian huffed out a laugh.  “Nah, I never bought into that.  But I didn’t care.  Call me ‘partner,’ call me ‘boyfriend,’ call me ‘that guy I go to coffee with.’  I don’t care.  Sometimes words are for other people.”

Iolo waited but Bastian didn’t continue the thought, instead turning the folder ninety degrees and then back.  “What do you mean by ‘other people’?”

Bastian looked up, his eyes tired but the corners crinkled along his small laugh lines.  “Like, we’re living our lives.  Right now, we’re kinda going along together.  That’s what we’re doing.  Other people have words for that—other people need a category to get it.  I don’t.  Maybe you don’t either?”

“Do you want to read something,” Iolo asked before he realized he was asking.  Fuck, what was he doing?  He never let people read his works in progress—

“Okay,” Bastian shrugged.  “Dunno if I’ll be any good at feedback.  Kinda sleepy.”

This was Iolo’s way out.  He could take it back, say that Bastian should be relaxing, trying to sleep.  All he had to do was say… “Just skim it.  You don’t have to give me a book report on it.”

Bastian grinned, the bags under his eyes scrunching up until his eyes almost disappeared.  “Okay.  Gimme.”

Iolo swallowed drily and braced himself, reaching out and flicking the folder open and handing Bastian the printed pages.  Bastian took them with two hands almost reverently and something in Iolo twisted and relaxed at the same time.

*****

“Are you going to talk to me,” Luke asked impartially and Finn’s lip twisted, his heart rate increasing.

“You were shot.”

“I was shot at,” Luke corrected lightly.  Finn’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles went white.

“You’re arm in a sling,” Finn ground out, “and the medical evac out of Germany tells another story, Dad.”

Luke heaved a sigh; Finn knew that exasperated sigh all too well.  “Finn, I’m absolutely fine.  Less than ten stitches.”

“You were in fucking Vienna,” Finn snapped, not looking away from the road.  “Neutral ground.  Five party talks in Austria and you still could’ve died--,”

“It’s part of the job, Finn.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Finn shouted, slapping his hand against the wheel.  “Your life shouldn’t be on the line every time you step out the door!”

“Finn--,”

“No, don’t,” Finn growled, shooting a dark look at his father.  “Don’t use that ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ tone.  Dad, if you weren’t fast enough—if the snipper had better aim,” he broke off with a shaking inhale.

“Finn, pull over.”  Finn shook his head and kept driving.  “Finn, stop the car.”

“It’s not fair,” Finn muttered wetly, shaking his head again as he pulled into the shoulder and pressed on his flashers.  “You retired.  This was supposed to over.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke murmured, reaching across with his uninjured right hand and squeezing his son’s slumped shoulder.  “I’m sorry I keep putting you through this.  Believe me, I wish it was different, for your sake.”

“I used to be scared of the phone ringing,” Finn whispered, his eyes closed tight.  “I used to think the phone only rang when you were hurt or missing or--,”

“Finn--,”

“And then we were in the cabin and I hated it,” Finn continued softly.  “I missed my friends and my room and watching TV… But I didn’t beg to go back because at least when we were out there I knew you were safe.  I knew they couldn’t get you out there.”

“That was never your burden to bear,” Luke said, his voice cracking slightly.

Finn scoffed.  “So what?  I was supposed to not care if my dad died trying to end another war?  I was supposed to read comic books and play soccer and not worry about whether I’d see you in a month or a year or ever?”

“Every time I went away, I knew I had to come back to you, Finn.”

“You still went away,” Finn sighed, blinking his eyes open and rolling his shoulders back.  He looked Luke straight in the eye and inhaled deeply.  “You still left every time.”

“You know why I did,” Luke replied calmly.

“Yeah,” Finn frowned, clicking the flashers off and merging back onto the highway.  “Saving the world, one conflict at a time.  You’ll try to save them all.  Kinda hard to do that if you’re dead, right?”

*****

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure,” Iolo shrugged, bracing himself as he carefully poured some scalding hot water into a mug.

“Did ya mean for the conclusion to be longer than the intro and climax,” Bastian asked, lying on his back on the table, holding a few pages in each hand and glancing between the two in confusion.

“What are you talking about,” Iolo frowned, dropping a teabag into the mug before carrying it over to the table.

“Well, the conclusion is seven pages,” Bastian said, rolling his head to look at the older man hesitantly, almost nervously.  “And the rest is six.  I dunno—maybe that’s a style I don’t know…I’m kinda flying blind here but--,”

“No, that’s not a style choice,” Iolo cut in, placing the mug down and gently taking the pages from the younger man, moving down the table until he had enough space to spread them out.  His eyes danced across the pages.  “Fuck.  I didn’t even see that.”

“I’m sure you did,” Bastian said in soothing tones, rolling onto his stomach, facing Iolo as he pulled the mug towards him.

“No.  No, I didn’t,” Iolo mumbled, his mind flying in twenty directions at once.  He could get it down to the page requirement and still add material.  He could expand the exposition, fill out the characterization and—and.  Iolo bit his lip and looked up, eyes running over Bastian’s bowed head as he inhaled the fragrant steam.  “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bastian said quickly, not raising his head.  “I just counted.”

“Are you kidding me?  You just—you fixed everything,” Iolo stammered and Bastian shrugged awkwardly while supporting his weight on his elbows.  “Hey,” Iolo said, voice soft as he reached out, tucking his fingers under Bastian’s chin and urging his to look up.  “Seriously.  You just saved me hours of pulling out my hair and kicking my furniture.”

“Kicking furniture,” Bastian echoed, his lips twitching up a little.  “Classic.”

“Sorry I was a jerk when I got here,” Iolo admitted guiltily.

“You weren’t a jerk,” Bastian rolled his eyes, nestling his cheek on his fist.  “You weren’t even a twat.”

Iolo snorted and then the giggles came, uninvited and uncontrollable.  His shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands.  “F-fuck,” he choked between laughs.  “H-how the f-fuck did I f-find you?” 

“You showed up at my door,” Bastian answered, amusement clear in his voice.  “What’s the story with this tea?  It smells weird.”

Iolo had to take three deep breaths before he could answer.  “It’s chamomile.  It’s going to help you sleep.”

Bastian looked skeptical, glancing between the mug and Iolo.  “Do I have to drink it?”

“Yeah, that would help,” Iolo teased, straightening up.  “I’ve got a couple other tricks up my sleeve too.  We’ll have you sleeping like a baby before midnight.”

Bastian cocked an eyebrow.  “If that’s true, you’re a wizard.”

Iolo smirked.  “Finish that tea and I promise you’ll like what comes next.”

Bastian’s jaw went slack and he stared across at the older man.  Iolo pointed at the mug and Bastian cautiously slipped his hand around the handle and brought it to his lips.  He met Iolo’s steady gaze again before taking a quick sip.

*****

“Poe?”

“Hey,” said man smiled uncertainly from where he was leaning next to Finn’s apartment door.  Kes offered a small nod, his crutches hunching his shoulders around his ears.  “Um.”

“What are you doing here,” Finn asked, trying to remember if he’d made plans and forgotten.

“I invited him,” Luke said with annoying calmness behind his son.

“And I didn’t want to leave my dad so,” Poe cut off with an awkward shrug and a gesture towards Kes.

“Since when have you had Poe’s number,” Finn demanded over his shoulder and Luke just smiled.

“Shall we go inside?”

Finn eyes narrowed but moved to unlock his door.  “You know, this need for control isn’t healthy,” he commented as he turned his key and the deadbolt slid open.

“I could say the same for you,” Luke shot back without any anger and Finn ground his teeth together to stay silent as he tossed his door wide and turned on the overhead light on his way into his apartment.  “And I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”

“You can’t possibly remember me,” Kes laughed as he made his slow way in, Poe hovering behind and watching his father hobble over the threshold.

“No, I’m positive,” Luke nodded slowly, closing the door behind him as Poe guided Kes over to the couch with a hand on his back.  “Let me think…it was over a decade ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kes agreed, winking up at Poe and clearly enjoying the game.  Finn turned away for the kitchen, having decided he needed a beer before he’d left the base.

“I remember your voice,” Luke mused, sinking down into the armchair.  Finn took a beer out of the fridge and let the door slam shut with a flick of his wrist.  “We were in a forest—mountains.  Kes from Guatemala,” he declared victoriously.

“My God, how did you do that,” Kes laughed with a wide smile.  Poe shot Finn an amused look which Finn returned with a bland one of his own, twisting off the beer cap in one motion.

“I make a point of remembering those who help me.  And believe me, you helped me a great deal,” Luke said earnestly.  Finn rolled his eyes, strolling over to the window in front of his kitchen table and leaning against the frame, staring blindly out to the street.

“I think I was following you most of the time,” Kes pointed out as Poe pursed his lips and moved over to where Finn was standing.

“No, you were the leader,” Luke said kindly.  “I kept wandering off and you had to drag me back to the paths.”  Kes chuckled; Poe reached out a laid a hand on Finn’s shoulder, brow furrowed.

“I remember.  You found three caches and I got stuck in a muddy riverbank,” Kes reminisced.  Finn looked over at Poe, grimacing with no idea what to say.  Poe nodded slowly, tugging Finn into a tight embrace.

“I don’t think that was my fault,” Luke mused.  “There was a perfectly good log bridge you refused to use.”  Finn’s hands twisted around Poe’s shirt front, his face tucking into the older man’s neck.

“You looked like a blonde monkey, scampering over that,” Kes shook his head.  Poe hummed softly, swaying his weight slightly from foot to foot while Finn took a gasping breath.

“You looked like a river monster when I finally got you free,” Luke countered easily.

“Bed,” Finn asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Poe murmured back, keeping his arm around Finn’s waist as they moved in unison towards Finn’s room.

“He will be okay,” Kes mentioned.

Luke’s lip twisted into a sad pout.  “Until the next time.”

The door closed with a soft click.

*****

“You sure about this,” Bastian asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, arms wrapped in a loose hug around himself, eyelids dropping as he spoke.

“Yep,” Iolo replied definitively, reading the fine print just to double check.  “You should take off your shirt,” he added off-hand.

Bastian swallowed, ducking his head to look at his shirt, not really wanting to part with the old gray thing.  “Don’t—don’t judge me?”

Iolo’s head shot up in surprise.  “What—oh, shit.  If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to…”

“Nah, it’s not…” Bastian trailed off before taking a deep breath and tugging the garment over his head and dropping it at his feet.  Bastian leaned back, supporting himself on the palms of his hands, watching Iolo’s eyes dart across his torso.  Bastian didn’t have any illusions about his physique—it wasn’t anything to write home about, even if he did have some abs.  No, he’d been worried about—there.  He smiled tightly as Iolo’s focus landed on the tattoo below his right clavicle.  “Hope tattoos aren’t a deal breaker,” he mumbled as Iolo took a step closer, stopping between Bastian’s spread legs.

“His eye is on the sparrow,” Iolo read slowly, squinting.  “And I know He watches me.”

“Church hymn,” Bastian explained, tilting his head, considering.  “Micah’s favorite,” he continued, gauging the other man’s reaction.

Iolo smiled tenderly and Bastian blinked, confused.  “I don’t know it.  I’ll look it up,” he said, his eyes slowly trailing down.  “And this one,” he asked, reaching out and running his thumb over a barely noticeable ink just below Bastian’s last rib.

“I’ll keep this world from dragging me down,” Bastian recited, keeping his eyes on Iolo’s face.  “Gonna stand my ground.”

“That’s got to be Jamie,” Iolo murmured, catching on quick and Bastian didn’t know how he felt about that.  He nodded wordlessly and Iolo trailed his finger tips slowly across Bastian’s chest, leaving goosebumps behind.  “Any more?”

“Left shoulder,” Bastian whispered, breathless for no reason.  Iolo bent down, inspecting for a tattoo.  “Pretty small,” Bastian muttered, pointing to the crevice where the joints met.  Iolo dropped to his knees, face serious as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Finally, one I know,” Iolo joked lightly.  “Who’s the Beatles fan?”

Bastian gulped.  “You promise not to judge me?”

Iolo exhaled, breath tickling Bastian’s exposed skin.  “Bastian, these are beautiful.  You’re getting the favorite lyrics of people you love, right?”  Bastian nodded, focusing on Iolo’s shoulder.  “How can I judge you for that?  But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.  I’m not going to pressure you.”

“It’s Finn and he doesn’t know about it,” Bastian said in a rush.  “Don’t tell him—it’s new and I just kinda went for it and didn’t ask--,”

Bastian’s voice cut off as Iolo slipped his lips over Bastian’s chapped ones.  Iolo levied himself, hands braced on the edge of the bedframe as he moved to hover over the younger man, theirs lips moving slowly together.  Bastian pulled back for to breathe and Iolo took his chance to climb onto the bed, knees tucking against Bastian’s hips, staring down into the tired man’s deep brown eyes.  “You are unbelievable,” Iolo enunciated carefully, making sure to keep eye contact.  “Never be ashamed of these, got it?”

“Thought you’d be weirded out,” Bastian said, chest rising and falling rapidly.  “Like, that I’ve basically tattooed my best friend on me.”

“Then you’ve got a lot to learn about me,” Iolo smiled.  “Now, turn over and I’ll give you that massage.  I’ve got two hours to keep my promise.”

*****

“He’s reckless,” Finn hissed, pacing in front of his bed while Poe lounged back against the pillows padding the headboard.  “He doesn’t even think before he goes charging into some dangerous situation.  Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?”

“I’ve got some idea, yeah,” Poe answered, holding back an ill-time chuckle.  Finn shot him a curious look and Poe sighed.  “So we’re just going to pretend you and your dad aren’t carbon copies?”

“What?  No, he got shot,” Finn said for the tenth time, throwing out his hand to point to his bedroom door.  “I’ve never done anything--,”

“Paris,” Poe interrupted, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as Finn’s jaw snapped shut.  Finn still hadn’t told him about what happened in the French capital, but Poe had a pretty good guess that it was more dangerous than Finn let on.

“But—but he does that shit all the time,” Finn countered, eyes wide in indignation.

“How many UBS drives have you gotten recently,” Poe asked flatly and Finn glared back, not answering.  “Face it, you are your dad’s son.”

“But--,”

“And it’s the good things too,” Poe continued, shifting to sit up, legs crossed in front of him.  “Like tonight.  Bastian was having a tough time and you called Iolo to check on him.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Iolo and I do talk to each other,” Poe teased with a shrug.  “And what did your dad do when he saw how upset you were?”

“When the fuck did you two exchange numbers,” Finn asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste, not liking where the older man was going with this.

“After the Leak Crisis,” Poe answered truthfully.  “And he used it to text me because he thought I could help you.”

Finn groaned, flopping on his back across his mattress.  “I can’t believe it.  I’m my dad,” he whimpered.

“Aw, hey, don’t pout,” Poe cooed, crawling over to run his thumb over Finn’s bottom lip.  “Trust me, there’s a lot worse things you could be.”

“Can’t think of any,” Finn mumbled to be difficult and Poe chuckled, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend’s furrowed brow.

“You can still be mad at him if it’ll make you feel better,” Poe offered kindly and Finn rolled his eyes.

“Jeez, thanks.  Didn’t know I needed your permission.”

“But something tells me you’re not actually mad,” Poe said, switching to his professional tone; Finn raised an eyebrow in response.  “You’re scared.”

“I know I’m scared,” Finn grumbled.  “I’m scared whenever he goes off on one of these peace missions.  How peacefully can they be if the mediator’s life gets threatened on a regular basis?”

“I don’t know and I’m not going to pretend to know,” Poe replied, frowning.  “Have you talked to him about this?”

“Yeah, and that gets me nowhere.  He’s got the speech down pact.  He’s doing it for me, so I can live in a better world, a safer world, a world of rainbows and butterflies and gumdrops,” Finn scowled.  “And how selfish am I for not wanting that?  How selfish am I to just want my dad to be safe and alive and not at the end of a snipper’s scope?”

Poe swallowed tightly, glancing towards the wall as he tried to gather his thoughts.  “That’s not selfish, Finn.  It’s—understandable and reasonable and for almost anyone else it would be realistic.”

Finn choked out a laugh, closing his eyes.  “Dad’s gonna be doing this until the day he dies.  It was a miracle he stayed in the cabin as long as he did.”

“And would you really want him to change,” Poe asked, petting Finn’s forehead as the wrinkles eased beneath his touch.

“Yes,” Finn said instantly with a small smile.  “But he won’t and I love him anyway, I guess.”

“You guess,” Poe prodded, flicking Finn’s ear gently.

“Don’t push it,” Finn stuck out his tongue.

*****

Iolo’s phone lit up at 12:24 with an incoming call.  He balanced his laptop on his knees as he answered the silent, bright phone.  “Hey,” he said quietly, clicking save on his document before placing the computer on the floor beside the low bed.

“Hey, how’d it go,” Poe asked, his voice equally hushed.

“Out like a light,” Iolo answered smugly, looking over the body stretched out next to him.  Bastian’s face was turned away as he slumbered on his stomach, one arm hugging his pillow and the other across Iolo’s stomach.  “I’m going to smell like lavender for a week,” Iolo mentioned, sniffing his free hand.

“Could be worse,” Poe chuckled.  “Finally putting those massage classes to use.”

“I was saving the knowledge for the perfect moment,” Iolo said dramatically.

“Uh huh, sure,” Poe drawled.  “I’ll bet Bastian is very thankful for that.”

Iolo hummed noncommittally, remembering the sleepy mumbling of Bastian right before the younger man had dropped off; Iolo had only been able to pick out ‘magic,’ ‘wizard,’ and ‘perfect.’  “I think it was a productive evening all around.  What about you?”

“Christ, I don’t even know where to start,” Poe groaned.

“Well, if it can’t be solved with tea, lavender oil, and honest conversation I can’t help you,” Iolo joked, placing his hand over Bastian’s, spread wide over Iolo’s belly button.

“Finn’s—having some kind of existential crisis.  My dad and Luke Skywalker fell asleep exchanging war stories and Finn’s cat is trying to nest in my hair.”

Iolo narrowed his eyes in thought.  “I—you could probably move the cat?”

“Yeah, I figured that one out on my own,” Poe replied drily. 

“Where’s Finn?”

“Sitting on the coffee table, watching his dad sleep.”

“Right,” Iolo drew out uncertainly.  “That’s part of the existential crisis?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Got it.  Have you tried chamomile tea,” Iolo asked and Poe burst out laughing.

“…so funny,” asked Finn’s faint voice over Iolo’s phone.

“Iolo’s being stupid,” Poe replied.  “What do you think about having some tea, going to bed, and seeing how things are in the morning?”

“…guess so…boil water…” Finn’s voice cut in and out.

“I’ll be damned,” Poe said in wonder.  “That worked.”

“The four of us are too fucking close,” Iolo snorted even as he smiled as Bastian shifted a little closer in his sleep.  “But it’s okay,” he said, dropping his voice low and scratching Bastian’s shoulder gently.

“It’s something,” Poe censored.  “Hey, any progress on those edits?”

Iolo smirked.  “My muse took one look at it and sorted it all out.”

“Muse?”

“Tell you about it later,” Iolo said casually.  “Go have your tea.”

“You and your British grandma tea-pushing tendencies,” Poe mumbled before ending the call.

Iolo rolled his eyes as he placed his phone back on the ground and picked his laptop back up.  He’d give it another hour and then call it a night.  Or maybe two…     

Chapter Text

**Five Days Later**

“Okay, we need to talk.”

Finn felt as his rolling chair’s back was grabbed and he was pulled away from the desk and spun around.  His eyes shot to the thermos of coffee in his hands, making sure none had spilled before he looked up at Rey and Iolo staring down at him.  “Uh, good morning?”

“This is an intervention,” Rey declared, crossing her arms and Iolo nodded, still holding the back of Finn’s seat.  Finn’s eyes darted between them.

“I—what are you talking about?”

“You’ve been stressing out all week,” Iolo said.  “And—somehow—you’ve infected Poe and Bastian.  Poe’s scared to breathe around you, Bastian can’t sleep because he’s worried, and you need to fix this.”

“What?  I saw them yesterday,” Finn countered, frowning.  “They were fine.”

“No, they said they were fine,” Rey corrected firmly.  “You’re so worked up about your dad they wouldn’t tell you if they’d been stabbed in an alley.”

“But--,”

“Look, Finn,” Iolo interrupted, eyes narrowing and Finn sighed, slumping back.  “I’m not going to say I get it because my dad’s an accountant and wouldn’t know an AK-47 from a Super Soaker.  But what you’re doing—running through every ‘what if’ your mind can come up with?  That’s not going to help.”

“Your dad is alive, in your apartment,” Rey spelled out slowly while Finn drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair.  “I get that this freaked you out, but it happened.  In the past.  You can’t change it by replaying it in your mind for days on end.”

“And while you’re doing that,” Iolo added, “people who care about you are watching and feeling useless because you’ve rejected every single offer of help.”

“They can’t help,” Finn mumbled, “unless they have a basement I can lock Dad in.”

“Okay, so that’s weird,” Rey pointed out and Iolo’s terse face cracked into a small smile before going serious again.

“Listen, I don’t think senior kidnapping is the answer here,” Iolo mentioned.  “But Rey has a—less illegal idea.”

“That cabin in the woods you lived in—is anyone there now,” Rey asked.  Finn shook his head; what was the point of a secret escape if it was rented out?  “You’re going to invite all of us out for the weekend.”

“You mean you’re inviting yourselves,” Finn said flatly.

“We’re inviting ourselves,” Iolo agreed, “but you’re going to invite Poe and Bastian.  They’ll be over the moon.”

“But what’s the point?”

“You’re going to get away, relax a little if we have ply you with alcohol the whole weekend,” Rey answered.  “And trust me, if that’s what it’s gonna take to get you to crack a smile, Iolo and I will do it.”

Finn heaved a sigh, knocking the back of his head against the mesh backing.  “Poe’s really worried?”

“I spent twenty minutes on the phone Tuesday night, convincing him you weren’t falling into some soul-crushing depression,” Iolo said honestly.

“And Bastian can’t sleep?”

“He dozed off during our softball game yesterday,” Rey said.  “And he’s our shortstop so that’s dangerous.”

“I didn’t know you two played softball,” Iolo commented, tilting his head to look over at Rey.

“I mean, he’s not that good,” Rey shrugged.  “But he’s fast and it’s basically a joke league anyway.”

“Fine,” Finn cut in with a sharp nod.  “Do you guys want to go to the cabin this weekend?”

“Wow, let me think about that,” Iolo drawled.  “This is coming out of the blue.”

“You and Poe can go out Friday,” Rey suggested with a bright smile.  “And Iolo can drive us out after Bastian’s overnight wraps up.”

Finn considered it: a night alone with Poe in the middle of the woods, probably sharing a bed because why not…  “Yeah,” he said, slightly dazed.  “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Oh, he’s finally catching on,” Rey winked at Iolo, who smiled back.

“Right, we’ve got a show to do,” Iolo stated, going around to his seat.  “Tell Jess and Karé it’s safe to come in.”

“Ay, ay, captain,” Rey joked, throwing a mock salute and heading out of the booth.

“It’s scary that you two are teaming up now,” Finn mentioned as Iolo set up his laptop, looking far too awake for five in the morning.

“It’s probably a good thing.  You don’t want to know what her original plan was.”

“What--,”

“No, Finn,” Iolo said solemnly.  “Some things are best not repeated.”

*****

“It’s really nothing fancy,” Finn stressed again, flicking on his high beams as he steered his car from one unimproved road to another, narrower one.  “If you’re picturing some glamorous chalet or something--,”

“Finn, buddy, I can safely say I’m never picturing a chalet,” Poe laughed from the passenger seat, tapping his empty Coke bottle against his knee to the rhythm of the Maroon Five song playing through the speakers.  “It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

“Right,” Finn sighed, idly glancing at the tall sycamore and oak trees closing in on the long driveway, wondering if the one he’s clipped on his first driving lesson still have the marks.  “If you want to check in with Kes, cell phone service is going to disappear after this point.”

“I think he’s in good hands,” Poe said easily, watching as the bars disappeared in the upper right corner of his screen before pocketing his phone.

“Yeah, he’s really not,” Finn commented, one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his temple.  “Leaving them with Han was a terrible idea.”

“Relax,” Poe urged, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder.  “One has a broken leg, one has stitches in his arm, and one has the MLB Network and beer.  They’re not going anywhere.”

“They could be halfway to Puerto Rico by now,” Finn mumbled back.

“Why Puerto Rico?”

“In the words of my uncle,” Finn drawled drily, “ ‘why not?’”

Poe snorted.  “Well, if that happens, I’m pretty sure Dad will enjoy it.  He hasn’t done anything crazy in a while.”

“If he hangs around my dad long enough, crazy will find him.”  Finn replied, finally cracking a smile at the image of Kes on crutches and Luke in a sling up to no good, like a children’s chapter book.  “But it’s cool they hit it off.  Dad doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“You sound like the concerned parent,” Poe teased, winking as Finn’s rolled his eyes.  “Will you stop worrying?  This weekend is for you, remember?”

This weekend was for Poe and Bastian but Finn wasn’t about to admit that out loud.  “Yeah yeah, I know.”  Finn slowed, maneuvering through a divot that had appeared in the road since the last time he’d been out.  “Uh, hey,” Finn started hesitantly, drawing Poe’s attention back from the vaguely horror movie scenery.  “Thanks—for coming out with me.  I—this week’s been kinda rough—for me.  So, I appreciate that you’ve been here.”

“I want to,” Poe responded honestly, angling himself to face Finn’s profile.  “You’ve had a pretty tough ride the past couple months.”

“Yeah, I had a pretty quiet life going up to then,” Finn mentioned.

“I don’t believe that but sure,” Poe shrugged and Finn snorted.  “But what I’m saying is, I’m here for it.  I’m here for the crazy, the tough, the good—all of it.  So you don’t have to thank me.”

Finn blinked, stopping the car to turn and gap at the older man.  “Are you serious?”

“What—too soon,” Poe asked blandly, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Finn said quickly.  “Not too soon.  Definitely.  I just—I was pretty sure no one would be here for the crazy.”

“Well, it’s not the main reason,” Poe allowed, smiling.  “But I’m in deep, Finn.  I didn’t think it was secret.  Everyone else know,” he finished, mostly to himself.

Finn tapped his finger against the wheel, mulling that over.  “I think I needed to hear it.”

“Well I’m saying it.”

“It’ll take me a bit to start up the generators.”

“What,” Poe asked bemused.

“I’ll start the generators,” Finn reiterated, “and you’ll make up the bed.”

“Fine,” Poe agreed blankly.  Finn gave him a pointed look that Poe didn’t understand.

“That’s all we’re going to need tonight,” Finn spelled out slowly, easing off the brake as Poe’s eyes went wide before a smirk crept over his features.

“Are you--,”

“Yes,” Finn answered before Poe could finish the question.  “Please don’t make this weird.”

“Nothing weird here,” Poe replied, leaning back smugly.  “All A-Okay.”

“I’m in this deep too.  Just putting that out there,” Finn said as the headlights illuminated the wooden structure at the end of the road.

“Yeah, I caught that.  But thanks for spelling it out,” Poe said, unbuckling his seatbelt as Finn parked.  “So?”

“First door at the top of the stairs,” Finn told him, unbuckling and popping his car door out.  “Careful, the third step up is wonky.”

“Got it,” Poe nodded, getting out and then reaching around to the backseat to grab his duffle bag and the set of sheets and pillowcases Finn had packed from his apartment.  “See you up there?”

“Give me ten,” Finn replied, his own bag tossed over his shoulder and the flashlight on his phone shining bright as he circled around the back of the cabin.  “Key’s in the glovebox!”

*****

“Morning,” Iolo greeted softly, gathering the tired man into his arms as if it was second-nature, and a not-insignificant part of his mind hoped it would be soon enough.  Bastian smiled lazily at the man leaning against the car, going for a quick kiss that tasted like fresh and stale coffee before curling himself into the embrace, molding against Iolo with an exhale.  “How was your shift?”

“Quiet,” Bastian mumbled into Iolo’s shoulder and Iolo smiled at that, running his fingertips along the younger man’s spine.

“That’s good,” Iolo murmured back, planning on continuing but the car horn honked loud and he jerked forward, surprised.  “The fuck, Rey?”

“You’re both very adorable.  Can we hit the road now,” she called, poking her head out the window on the passenger side.  Iolo scowled but Bastian let out a light laugh that had the urge to smile returning to the older man.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Bastian agreed and Iolo walked the two of them forward enough to open the door behind him, sliding Bastian’s backpack off his shoulder with his other hand.  Rey crawled over and pulled the lever to fold the driver’s seat down, and Bastian bent down to look in while Iolo stored the bag in the trunk.  “Jeez, when I said I might take a nap…”

Iolo chuckled, patting Bastian’s hipbone lightly.  “Go on,” he urged gently.  Bastian glanced back amused before he climbed his way into the narrow backseat, patting the pillow curiously and shaking out the folded blanket, draping it over his legs.  “There’s granola and water back there too,” Iolo mentioned, starting up the car and making a U-turn out of the parking lot in front of the station.  Iolo heard the rustle of cellophane as Bastian explored his choices in the CVS bag on the floor behind Rey, and Iolo selected a playlist as he waited for a break in the traffic to merge onto the road.

I’m gonna pick up the pieces

And build a Lego house

“You don’t even know who Ed Sheeran is,” Bastian accused from the back as placed the pillow against the window and slumped himself down, pulling the blanket over his shoulder.

“I beg to differ,” Iolo countered teasingly, adjusting the volume slightly louder.

“We need to go east on 66,” Rey said, reading Finn’s directions on her phone.  “He says it’ll be about four hours.”

“No problem,” Iolo nodded, turning onto Rockville Pike and scanning the green highway entrance signs.  “And we can stop whenever.”

“I’ve got Peach Rings and ice tea,” Rey grinned.  “I’m all set.”

“Okay,” Iolo laughed.  “Same goes for you, Bas,” he said, looking into the backseat in his rearview mirror and smiling softly at the already napping man.  “Well, that was quicker than I thought.”

“He sleeps better with people around,” Rey informed him.  “And noise.  He told me once he sleeps better in Union Station than in his apartment.”

Iolo hummed thoughtfully.  “That’s good to know.”

“I think it’s a new thing,” Rey commented, fishing out a pink and yellow gummy candy from the bag in her lap.  She offered it to Iolo, who shook his head, and then popped it in her mouth.  “Since he started living alone.”

“He—I kinda thought he’s been living along since Jamie…”

“He had a friend living with him when I first met him,” Rey shrugged.  “This guy Sasha.  He’s like, an apprentice conductor or something.”

“A what,” Iolo asked, taking the ramp to I-66.

“Conducting orchestras,” Rey explained, waving her hand back and forth in demonstration.  “He was at the National Symphony for a bit, apprenticing or whatever.  He moved to London last year and that’s around when Bastian got insomnia.”  Iolo hummed again, low, and Rey picked up on it.  “They weren’t sleeping together.  Sasha wasn’t interested and Bastian was really not interested.”

“You don’t have to defend him,” Iolo chuckled, glancing back again at Bastian’s relaxed face.  “We all have a past.  I don’t really care about the people who were around before me.”

“Even Jamie?”

“I—Jamie’s a bit different,” Iolo allowed hesitantly.  “I’m not jealous but—Jamie is his benchmark.  Might always be his benchmark.  So I’m curious.”

“He never talked about Jamie before,” Rey said, turning down the AC.  “At least not with Finn or me.”

“I figured,” Iolo nodded.  “He’s been keeping a lot bottled up.  And I like listening to him.”

“That’s nice.”  There was a break, while Iolo merged into the left lane and Rey listened, mouthing along to the song playing through the car.  “What do you call him?”

Iolo blinked.  “Bastian?”

“Yeah.”

“I call him ‘Bastian,’” Iolo answered, wondering if he’d missed something.

Rey rolled her eyes.  “I mean, like, a cute name.  You’ve got to have a pet name for him.”

“No, I don’t think that’s in the unwritten contract,” Iolo joked, sitting back in his seat and yielding to a little Honda going seventy-five.

“Sugar lips.”

“Are two words that will never leave my mouth in that order,” Iolo declared firmly and Rey laughed.

“Honey bun.”

“Are two words that will never--,”

“We have four hours and I’ve got Google,” Rey threatened, holding up her phone.  Iolo heaved a heavy sigh.

“Great.”

*****

“You made great time,” Finn said, leaning against the wood railing of the small porch at the front of the cabin as Iolo and Rey climbed out of the Audi.

“I had amazing motivation,” Iolo stated flatly, folding his seat back and reaching over to shake Bastian awake.

“Finn, yes or no: Snuffleupagus,” Rey asked, pointing over her friend, who cocked an eyebrow.

“Like the Sesame Street Muppet?  In what context?”

“Rey, I told you,” Iolo groaned, holding onto Bastian’s hand as the younger man made his way out of the car, blinking in the sunlight, “it’s too long and it’s stupid.”

“What’s going on,” Poe asked, coming through the screen door with a water bottle in his hand.

“Bastian sniffles in his sleep,” Rey began.

“Sorry,” Bastian told Iolo, who shook his head.

“It’s adorable and not a problem.”

“Anyway,” Rey continued loudly, moving around to the trunk, “I thought maybe Snuffleupagus would make a good pet name--,”

“No,” Finn interrupted flatly.

“Please don’t,” Bastian asked Iolo with wide eyes.  Iolo smiled, pulling the younger man into a loose hug.

“I won’t,” Iolo reassured, resting their foreheads together.  “Four hours and that was the best she came up with.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bastian joked.

“Yes, pity me,” Iolo said seriously.

There was a loud bang before Bastian’ and Iolo’s bags were dropped next to them and Rey marched by them on her way to the cabin.  “This is the thanks I get for helping.”

“Don’t need the help,” Iolo shot back, picking up his brown leather overnight bag, reaching for Bastian’s backpack too but the younger man beat him to it, sticking out his tongue as he slung it over his shoulder.  “Just being nice,” Iolo mumbled with a small smile.

“Don’t need the help,” Bastian teased, kissing Iolo’s cheek before bouncing off towards the cabin, Iolo following behind more slowly.  “So what’s the plan?”

“We were thinking head down to the river,” Finn answered, turning to grin up at Poe as the older man ran a hand down Finn’s back slowly.  Iolo and Bastian exchanged smirks.  “Then just hang out.  We’ve got a firepit for hot dogs later.”

“What’s the sleeping arrangements,” Bastian asked smugly and Finn’s eyes narrowed in response.

“There’s a bed and a couch up for grabs,” Finn stated blandly.  Rey spun on her heel, a challenging look in her eyes and Bastian held up his hands in surrender.

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Nah, we’ll sort it out,” Iolo shrugged, heading up the two steps to the porch.

“I’m not fighting Rey for the bed,” Bastian said, rolling his eyes at Rey’s satisfied smile.  “And I’m not going to be responsible for your feeble bones.”

“My what now,” Iolo drawled, clicking his tongue and putting his hands on his hips, looking down at Bastian.

“River,” Poe asked loudly.

“Yeah, which way,” Bastian replied, eyes wide, ignoring the rumble of thunder in the distance and hoping everyone else would too.

*****

“Alright, new game,” Rey announced over the sound of pouring rain outside on the leaves, banging a bottle down on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

“Well this already seems better than Shoots and Ladders,” Bastian chuckled as Poe leaned over to pick up the bottle.

“Tequila?  What kind of game do you have in mind,” Poe joked as Iolo propped himself up on his elbows from where he’d been lying on the floor.

“Finn, everyone needs a full glass,” Rey said instead of answering and Finn reached over and pulled the cork plug out of the bottle, gesturing for everyone to put their glasses on the table, and they did.  “So, I figured we’re basically trapped in here.”

“So why not add alcohol poisoning to the mix,” Bastian grinned, toasting Rey with his glass with three fingers of straight tequila. 

“And embarrassment,” Rey agreed brightly.  “I’ve never played but it sounds like fun.  Finn, you start.”

Poe and Iolo looked at each other, wondering if they’d missed something while Finn put the bottle back on the table and picked up his glass, thinking.  “Never have I ever gotten a body piercing,” he said, shrugging.

“Ah,” Poe drew out before taking a sip along with Rey.

“Do I want to know,” Bastian whispered over to Iolo, who moved to pick up his glass and sit next to Bastian, their backs against the bottom of the couch.

“I had like, three ear piercings in the early two thousands,” Poe shrugged. 

“Photos,” Finn demanded, grinning wide.

“I’ve got some,” Iolo offered, winking at Poe’s glare.

“Whatever, I looked hot,” Poe dismissed, sitting up a bit straighter and shifting closer to the table, between Finn and Iolo.  “Never have I ever been in a car accident.”

Finn and Bastian both took a sip, eyeing each other in surprise as they did so.  “What did you do,” Finn demanded, swallowing first.

“Turned right at a red light and got nailed,” Bastian answered.  “I was seventeen and it was a mess.  Had a concussion, broken ribs, and the other driver is yelling at me and I couldn’t figure out what he was saying.  Some lady showed up and called for an ambulance.  It took the insurance company months to sort it out.”

Iolo inhaled through his teeth.  “That’s terrible, Bas.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Bastian joked.  “You should’ve heard the lectures I got.  Would’ve thought I was murdering puppies in my free time.”

“What about you, Finn,” Rey asked, poking Finn in the side.

“Got clipped by a bus,” Finn said casually.  “It wouldn’t even count except the momentum took me into a parked car on the curb.  But I didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“Thank God,” Poe breathed, taking Finn’s free hand and squeezing lightly.  Finn squeezed back with an easy smile.

“Never have I ever,” Iolo said slowly, tapping the rim of his glass against his bottom lip, “gotten a tattoo.”

“Cheater,” Bastian grumbled, taking a sip along with Poe and Rey.

“What’s yours,” Iolo asked Rey kindly.

“Got a phoenix on my back,” Rey smiled.  “Poe, do you just have that weird goat one?”

“It’s not weird, but yeah, that’s my only one.  What do you have,” Poe nodded at Bastian, who swallowed tightly.

“Lyrics.  Never have I ever had a pet,” Bastian continued quickly before Poe could ask the next obvious question.  Everyone but Bastian took a swallow and then looked at Rey expectantly.   

“Um,” Rey drew out, frowning down into her cup, “never have I ever…been engaged.”

“No, Rey,” Finn groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “The point is to try and get the other people to--,”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Bastian snapped and Finn twisted around to see Iolo take a swallow of his drink.  “Are you serious,” Bastian gaped, eyes bugging out.

Iolo nodded, leaning back against the edge of the sofa while Poe said cheerfully, “I forgot about that.”

“When were you engaged,” Rey demanded, sitting up and tucking her legs under her in excitement.

“A while ago,” Iolo answered evasively although he was smiling.

“Must be almost ten years ago,” Poe commented easily, clasping his hands loosely between his knees.  “Crazier times.”

“Ten years ago I was getting my driver’s license,” Bastian mumbled to himself, but Iolo heard and placed his drink down on the low table before scooting closer.

“But what happened,” Finn pressed, whispering the inquiry to Poe, who shrugged.

“They called it off a few months before the wedding.  It caused a bit of a stir but--,”

“Poe,” Iolo cut in, voice strangely gentle, and Finn glanced back to see Iolo with his arm around Bastian’s hips, thumb stroking the younger man’s side slowly.  “How about you let me tell the story.”

Poe swallowed, watching Bastian intertwine his and Iolo’s fingers together, head bowed, and nodded.  “Yeah, that’s—that’s better.”

“So, back when you were figuring out tricycles,” Iolo teased, nosing Bastian’s temple and the younger man smiled in response, “I met a woman named Annabelle in my Strategic Communications class, junior year.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Rey mentioned and then hissed as Finn’s dug a finger into her ribs.  “What,” she glowered.

“Bas,” Finn muttered back with a pointed nod at the man, who had curled almost perfectly into a ball against Iolo’s side.

“It is a pretty name,” Iolo allowed, tucking Bastian’s head under his chin and placing their joined hands over Bastian’s heart.  “And we hit it off.  We dated for two years before her parents started dropping hints.  They were really old-fashioned.  Thought everyone should be married off by twenty-five.  And we were young and stupid and I guess I thought it sounded like a good idea.  So I proposed and she said yes.”

“Rose petals on the beach, right,” Poe remembered, glancing down at his glass, grunting as Finn kicked him in the shin.  “Okay, ninja, cut out the physical assaults,” Poe grumbled with a slight glare, rubbing his leg.

“Kinda corny,” Bastian mumbled into Iolo’s chest and Iolo laughed brightly.

“Very corny,” Iolo agreed lightly, hoping Bastian didn’t notice how hard his heart was pounding.  “We picked a date, booked a place for the reception—she got a dress, all that.  But we were stressed out all the time between the wedding and starting our first jobs.  The last couple of months I’m not sure we talked about anything except how tired we were.”

“So you called it off,” Finn summed up quickly, eyes on Bastian.

“We were arguing over cake flavors,” Iolo nodded, sighing in relief as Bastian let out a surprised, genuine laugh at that.  “She wanted almond cake and I wanted chocolate.”

“Almond cake sounds weird,” Bastian said, picking up his head for the first time since the topic had come up.

“It tasted disgusting.  And I told her that and she goes ‘well, maybe I want to hold out for a man who’ll let me have almond cake.’  The bakery went dead silent.  I swear the entire room could me breathing.  All I could picture was spending my whole life with someone who thought cake flavors were a deal breaker.  And it turned out she had been having second thoughts for weeks at that point.  We went back to her apartment, talked for hours.  Around midnight we called our parents, canceling the wedding.  That was the end.”

There was a pause and Poe leaned forward to squeeze Iolo’s shoulder, who nodded his thanks.  “What happened to her,” Bastian asked finally, sounding genuinely curious.

“Well, a few months after that she moved to Chicago for a job and stayed there.  We didn’t really keep in touch,” Iolo shrugged, relaxing back into the couch as he felt some of the tight tension leave Bastian’s shoulders.  “I think Facebook told me she was in a relationship last time I looked.”

“Finn, your turn,” Rey announced loudly, and Bastian shook his head with a small smile at the attempt to change the subject.  Iolo leaned in enough to press a soft kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

“You can ask me anything,” Iolo murmured against Bastian’s smooth skin.

“Yeah,” Bastian whispered back.  “Thanks.”

“Bas, take a drink,” Poe said and Bastian blinked back to reality.

“What?  Why?”

“Never have I ever found out the guy I was seeing was engaged before,” Finn repeated with a hesitant smile.

“Oh, is that how it is,” Bastian asked with narrowed eyes before taking a larger than necessary gulp of tequila.  “Just wait til it’s my turn, babe.”

*****

“Should I apologize,” Iolo asked neutrally, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, and Bastian jumped straight up, almost dropping the empty glasses in his hands.  He juggled them in the air for a second before catching them against his chest and turning to face the older man.

“What—no, there’s—all good,” Bastian stammered, carefully placing the glasses in the sink and then turned off to open the fridge.

“Right,” Iolo drawled slowly, walking into the small kitchen and boosting himself up to sit on the counter next to the sink, watching Bastian’s back.  “Can you give me a hint?”

“You—you never mentioned the whole—engagement thing before,” Bastian mumbled, staring at the small carton of milk sitting innocently on the top shelf.

“The topic never came up,” Iolo shrugged.

“Come on,” Bastian sighed, sending a tired look Iolo’s way.  “I’ve been pouring out my soul with all the Jamie shit.  And it never crossed your mind that you had something similar?”

“Honestly, no, because I don’t think a suddenly deceased boyfriend is the same as a mutual breaking of an engagement,” Iolo answered, raising an eyebrow.  “And I’m going to stand by that.”

“But she had to mean something to you,” Bastian pressed, letting the fridge door close and propping his hip against it.

“At the time, she did,” Iolo agreed.  “But it was ten years ago.  Does the person you liked ten years ago still mean something to you?”

“I didn’t propose to Daniel Guntherson,” Bastian countered, scowling.  “I never even talked to him!”

“Oh my God,” Iolo huffed, bowing his head and running a hand across his chin.  “You’re fucking precious.”

“Hey--,”

“Okay, listen to me, please,” Iolo implored, holding out his hand hopefully.  Bastian pursed his lips, looking from the hand to Iolo’s face before taking a step closer without taking the offered appendage.  “This is probably a terrible thing to say because she was an important part of my life for years, but I don’t think about her.  Not even a passing ‘oh, Annabelle liked orange juice’ thought has crossed my mind in years.  I wasn’t hiding her from you, Bas.  I wasn’t listening to you talk about Jamie and thinking about her.”

“You weren’t?”

“Never,” Iolo swore.  “And if you want, I can stop asking about Jamie.  Or you can tell me to ‘fuck off’ when I get too nosy.”

“No, I—I kinda like talking about everything with you,” Bastian admitted.  “I’m not sure if you feel the same but--,”

“I do,” Iolo interrupted firmly.  “I really, really do.”

“Ya know, I probably should have guessed,” Bastian said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth while Iolo’s brows drew together, confused.  “You definitely sound like you’ve practiced saying ‘I do.’”

“Jesus Christ,” Iolo chuckled, shaking his head.

“And you were way too slick, going down on one knee in the street,” Bastian mused, thinking back to the older man asking him on a date.  Iolo laughed louder at that and Bastian grinned.  “Are you going to propose with a condom when you’re ready for sex?”

Iolo grabbed Bastian’s wrists and pulled him closer, catching his breath as he lifted Bastian’s left wrist to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the younger man’s pulse point.  Bastian gasped in response, and Iolo repeated the tender moment, this time watching as Bastian’s eyes widened.  “Are we okay,” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Bastian nodded slowly.  “We’re okay.”

“Thank you,” Iolo replied honestly.  “In that case,” he continued lowly, slipping off the counter to stand chest to chest with Bastian, “I can promise you that when we’re ready for sex, I will get on my knees for you.” 

Bastian’s entire face went blank and Iolo smirked satisfied before dodging around the younger man and backing his way out of the kitchen.  “Wait—no,” Bastian called.  “You can’t say that and then waltz off!”

“And yet here I am, waltzing away,” Iolo cackled, adding a small twirl as he passed Finn, who hummed questioningly.  “And you’ve already consigned yourself to the floor.”

Bastian groaned dramatically, dragging his feet as he moved back into the living room.  Finn looked between his friend and the man who sprawled himself across the couch, Poe sitting on the arm of the couch, looking down at Iolo curiously.

“Do I want to know,” Rey asked from her perch at the small kitchen table, Cards Against Humanity and the half-empty bottle of tequila in her hands.

“Going off Iolo’s face,” Poe said, “I’d say no, we don’t.”

Chapter Text

**Later that Night**

Finn and Rey sat side by side on the couch, the only sound in the room was the ticking off the grandfather clock in the corner and their inhales and exhales.  Finn stole a glance over at his friend but she was staring straight ahead, hands clenched in tight fists between her knees.  There was the sound of a door opening and then closing with a click, followed by bouncing footfalls on the steps and Poe came back into the living room.

“How is he,” Finn asked in a hushed voice.  Poe blinked and then cocked an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Poe drew out, putting his hands in his pockets.  “You could go see for yourself.  It’s not like he’s in quarantine.”  Finn looked pointedly over at Rey and Poe shrugged.  “You can both go up.  There’s no visitor limit.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Rey admitted quietly.

“Yeah, he knows that.  He was laughing about it,” Poe replied.  “You don’t have to beat yourself up over this.  Accidents happen.”

“But I hurt him,” Rey pointed out, watching Poe with a guarded expression.

“I think he’ll survive,” Poe said drily.

*****

“Come on, let me see the damage.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this fascination of yours,” Iolo drawled but lifted the bag of ice off his right eye all the same for Bastian to inspect the bruise.

“It’s all blue and purple,” Bastian mumbled, shifting on the bed to lean over Iolo’s face.  “It’s like a painting.”

“If by paint you mean busted blood vessels, you’re right,” Iolo answered, replacing the ice pack and watching Bastian’s face blanch.  “What?”

“I—the graphic descriptions kinda…ick me out.”  Iolo stared at the younger man with his one eye that wasn’t swollen and Bastian shifted a bit uncomfortably, scrunching himself down to lie on his back on the mattress.  “I’m kind of a wimp about…that stuff,” he finished, gesturing towards Iolo’s face.

“Uh-huh,” Iolo mumbled, barely suppressing the urge to call Bastian ‘precious’ again because the younger man hadn’t appreciated that back in the kitchen.  “Does that mean there’s no ‘sorry my friend punched you in the face’ cuddles?”

Bastian let out a bright peal of laughter at that before rolling into his side, propping his head up on his bent arm, just inches away from Iolo, teasingly.  “It’s basically her ‘welcome to the family’ gesture.  She got me in the solar plexus, like, a month after we started hanging out.”

“How did that happen?”

“I walk too quietly,” Bastian replied, shrugging with one shoulder, and Iolo reached out and ran the back of his fingers along the younger man’s cheek bone.  “She got surprised and turned and walloped me.  I was down for the count, man.”

Iolo chuckled, his smile causing the bruise to thump uncomfortably but he ignored it.  “I thought it was her way of making me pay for being engaged before.”

“Nah, but that’ll probably come later,” Bastian joked and Iolo whacked his hand against Bastian’s side lightly.  Bastian grabbed his ribs and gasped dramatically, eyes wide, but Iolo stared back unsympathetically, raising the ice pack just enough to remind him which one of them had an actual injury.  “You’re going to milk the hell out of that,” Bastian grumbled, scooting the last little distance until he was pressed against Iolo’s side, his head dropping to Iolo’s shoulder and his legs slotting between Iolo’s left one.

“That’s better,” Iolo smiled, snaking his free arm under Bastian’s ribs to hold him loosely.  “The affection makes the bruise worth it.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Not really, but it sounded badass.”

“A badass wouldn’t say ‘affection’ like that,” Bastian countered lightly.

“And as the badass who gags at the thought of blood, you’d know, right?”

“If we’re going to compare how completely not-badass we are we’re going to be here forever,” Bastian commented and Iolo hummed in agreement.  “Hey, unrelated question.”

“Shoot,” Iolo said, pressing a kiss to the top of Bastian’s head just because.

“Have you dated a guy before?”

Iolo snorted, trailing his fingers along the small of Bastian’s back.  “Not recently, but yeah.  Why, has something changed I should know about?”

“The parts are in the same spots, don’t worry,” Bastian answered and Iolo pinched the skin right above Bastian’s ass in retaliation.  “Just wondering because so far I’ve only heard about women.”

“If it comes down to numbers,” Iolo started, adjusting the ice pack, “I’ve been with more women than men, but it wasn’t a conscious decision.  Just how things worked out.  Is that…?”

“I was just curious,” Bastian said, answering the unfinished question and tapping his fingers on Iolo’s stomach lightly.  “I feel like I should’ve been asking more, talking less.”

“Christ, no,” Iolo disagreed quickly.  “Seriously.  Don’t think like that.  In fact, this would be a great time to tell me some deep dark secret, when I can’t say shit about it.”

“That would be cool,” Bastian agreed lightly, circling a finger around Iolo’s bellybutton through the older man’s t-shirt until Iolo pushed it away with a snort.  “I can’t think of anything.”

“I’m dating a regular saint over here,” Iolo teased.

“Brother of a preacher,” Bastian huffed, rolling a bit to fold his arm over Iolo’s torso and rest his chin on his arm.  “I dunno, I—used to be scared of thunder,” he finished with a hint of surprise as a patter of distant thunder rolled over the roof. 

“If that’s what you call a ‘deep dark secret’ I’m screwed,” Iolo teased and Bastian chuckled in response.

“When I was a kid,” Bastian started and Iolo instantly perked up, “Micah would tell me it was like a concert.  The lightning was the light show and the thunder was the drums.  The rain was the applause.  And I’d dance around his room and he pretended to be conducting the storm.  It was kinda weird but—I always liked music, ya know?  It could make you happy or make you cry but music doesn’t hurt.”

“Fuck, I want to write that down,” Iolo mumbled under his breath.

“I’ll remind you when you’re not holding ice to a bruise,” Bastian replied, looking up with a small smile. “You’re weird, ya know?”

“I mean, that’s not the greatest thing I’ve been called in bed,” Iolo drawled and Bastian’s smile widened, “but not the worst either.”  Iolo tapped his fingers against the end of the younger man’s tailbone, imaging little Bastian dancing around to the sound of rain and thunder.  Then his fingers stilled.  “Wait, where were your parents?”

“Well, Ma wasn’t around and--,”

There was a quick knock on the door and Poe peeked his head into the room.  “Lo, you’ve got to make an appearance.  Rey thinks she killed you or something.”

“What,” Iolo gaped, distracted.

“Oh yeah, she kinda freaks the first time she punches you,” Bastian mentioned casually, pushing his hands against Iolo’s chest and sitting up as Iolo grunted at the weight.

“You’d think she threw you out a window,” Poe muttered as Iolo swung his feet off the bed.  “Like you’ve never gotten punched in the face before.”

“Yeah, but the last time I was at least prepared for the possibility.  You don’t steal a guy’s Hostess cupcake without thinking about the consequences,” Iolo said, dropping the softened icepack on the side table as he got to his feet.

“Please, please tell me ‘Hostess cupcake’ is a code word,” Bastian breathed, eyes wide.

Poe burst out laughing while Iolo stared at the younger man in disbelief.  “No, it’s a fucking lunch snack with cream and frosting, you sicko.”

“What, were you twelve,” Bastian shot back, crossing his arms.

“No, I was twenty-three, but,” Iolo continued quickly as Bastian snorted, “Snap was twenty-six so I think it says more about him than me.”

Bastian tossed his head back, cackling loudly, and Iolo shook his head, joining his friend in the doorway.  “Young people act like they’re the only ones who’ve ever been young and dumb,” Iolo complained softly.

“That young person is the best thing that’s happened to you in years,” Poe whispered back as Bastian’s laughter slowed and quieted.  “How ‘bout you let him have this one?”

“I’m never looking at Snap the same way again,” Bastian managed between gasps.  “Oh my God, there’s two to a pack!  Just share!”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time,” Iolo deadpanned but his lips twitched up as Bastian sidled up to him, arm wrapping around the older man’s waist.  “Come on, let’s show Rey I’m still breathing.”

*****

“Hey,” Finn started, tapping Poe on the shoulder.  Poe looked away from the improvised martial arts lesson happening in the cabin’s living room, where Rey faked a punch for Iolo to deflect while trying to look bored.  “Step outside for a second?”

“Okay,” Poe agreed easily, getting to his feet, dodging past a cackling Iolo who had given up on the lesson and had Rey over his shoulder and spinning while she laughed and punched him on the back.

“Put me down!”

“Only if we do a shot and forget about the fucking lucky punch!”

“They’re kinda cute,” Poe mentioned, jerking his thumb at the giggling pair while following Finn out to the porch, the screen door swinging shut behind him.

“They’re kinda psychotic,” Bastian corrected from his perch on the swinging bench, one leg folded to his chest and the other propelling the bench back and forth.  “So what’s up, babe?”

“I just wanted to talk to the two of you,” Finn shrugged, leaning against one of the support beams while Poe nodded pointedly at the bench.  Bastian planted his feet to bring the rocking to a stop and Poe sat down next to him.  The two looked up at Finn expectantly and the youngest snorted.  “I feel like I’m about to give a speech.”

“Whatever it is, we’re here for it,” Poe said promptly.

“Unless it’s zombies.  I don’t deal with zombies,” Bastian added, holding up his finger as if it was a point of order.

“If this is going to work out, you’ll need to carry your own weight at the zombie uprising,” Poe stated seriously, draping an arm over the back of the bench.

“I’ll forage like a boss,” Bastian offered, smiling over at the older man.  Poe clicked his tongue, considering, before glancing over to Finn.

“I don’t know.  Finn, think we should keep him around?”

“Funny, I asked him the same about you,” Bastian teased, winking at Poe’s shocked expression.

“You’re both keepers,” Finn interjected before it could escalate.  “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bastian whistled lowly.  “This sounds kinda serious, babe.”

“I just wanted to thank both of you…for everything,” Finn started, trailing off while he tried to figure out what to say next.  Poe and Bastian exchanged a quick look.

“For what, babe?  I’m ninety-nine percent sure I haven’t done anything recently.”

“Is this about your dad,” Poe asked, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Yeah,” Finn sighed, scratching his ear.  “I mean, Poe’s just been—I dunno, there.  And Bastian—I know you’ve been over to check on Dad when I’m at work, don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” Bastian replied, ignoring Poe’s curious look.  “Did he tattle on me?  Kinda thought he’d be better at keeping secrets, to be honest.”

“I figured it out when you were awake at ten when I texted you,” Finn shot back.  “And Dad looked weirdly smug when I got home on Tuesday.”

“Jeez, why are you one-upping me over here,” Poe huffed with a smile, flicking the top of Bastian’s ear.

“You’ve got your own dad to look after,” Bastian shrugged.  “I don’t mind helping out.  Luke’s a cool guy.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Finn joked.  “But seriously, I know I’ve been kinda out of it since it happened and I don’t know how to really express it but--,”

“Hold it right there,” Bastian held up his hand.  “I’m out if this is a threesome in the making.”

“Fuck off,” Finn groaned while Bastian snorted.  “I’m being serious!”

“Here’s the thing, babe,” Bastian said, lifting up his legs and crossing them on the bench seat, his knee knocking against Poe’s leg, “it’s cool that you’re thankful or whatever.  But it’s also not—necessary, ya know?”

“I told him the same thing last night,” Poe agreed, mindlessly rubbing his thumb across the back of Bastian’s shoulder.  “And--,”

“—then you had sex, I know,” Bastian finished flatly, rolling his eyes.  “No one likes a show-off.”

“Hey, you’re the one turning down threesomes,” Poe teased and Finn smirked and nodded.

“That’s how you’re playing this,” came Iolo’s voice suddenly.  “Distract me while you proposition my man?”

“Pretty much,” Finn said brightly as Iolo joined them on the porch.

“They’re being mean,” Bastian whined exaggeratedly.  “They said I have to carry my own weight.”

“Ouch,” Iolo winced, moving to lean against the railing beside Bastian.  “Harsh.”

“We don’t take slackers,” Poe said seriously, holding out a hand and Finn linked their fingers together simply.

“Forget them,” Iolo told Bastian, gesturing for the younger man to get up, which Bastian slowly did.  Neither Finn nor Poe noticed as Bastian got to his feet and Iolo jerked the bench back quickly, sending Poe to the ground and Finn tumbling after.  “Rey surrendered the second bed,” Iolo continued, wrapping his hands around Bastian’s hips.  “Want to call it a night?”

“You fucker,” Poe grumbled, rubbing his elbow, and Finn pushed himself to his knees.

“Yeah,” Bastian murmured, cradling Iolo’s face between his palms with a smile.  “Sounds good.”

“Don’t mind us,” Poe called as Iolo walked Bastian into the cabin.

“I never do,” Iolo called back, letting the other man tug him towards the stairs, nodding at Rey, who toasted him from the couch with her empty shot glass.   

*****

“How about another round of twenty questions,” Iolo suggested, watching out of the corner of his eye as Bastian caught up on his social media now that they were back in range of 4G.  After a lazy breakfast, Iolo and Bastian had hit the road first so Bastian could shower at his own place before his overnight shift.  Bastian had offered to drive, but he’d seemed relieved when Iolo declined that suggestion and had settled into the passenger seat for the long drive back.

“Kay,” Bastian replied with a shrug, scrolling through his Facebook page and then giving up, exiting the app and dropping his phone into his lap.  “Go ahead.”

“What’s the story with your parents?”

Bastian’s shoulders tensed and he went too still.  Iolo tried to keep his eyes on the road, give the younger man some time, but he couldn’t help shooting quick glances over to the passenger seat.  After a moment Bastian slumped back into the leather, cushioned seat and started fiddling with the air controls on the dashboard.  “Not a fan of foreplay, huh?  Just slam right into the main event,” he mumbled, flicking on Iolo’s seat heater.

“That’s graphic,” Iolo mentioned, pressing his seat heater off only for Bastian to push it back on again instantly.  “What, I have to burn my ass because you don’t like the question?”

Bastian scowled and crossed his arms, not retaliating when Iolo pushed the heater off a second time.  “You first.”

“Me first what?”

“Tell me about your parents first,” Bastian spelled out slowly, attention fixed on the narrow two-lane road outside the windshield.  Iolo ran his thumb across his bottom lip, debating whether Bastian would laugh if he pointed out that wasn’t how the game worked.  Figuring he should play it safe, the older man took a deep breath and slowed the speed of the car.

“They’re still up in Delaware.  Jay and Elizabeth.  My mom is a high school history teacher.  She’s also the varsity volleyball coach, and she loves it,” Iolo said, smiling at the memory of how excited his mom had been when she took over the team years ago.  “Dad’s an accountant.  Which sounds really boring and I’m pretty sure it is, but it genuinely makes him happy.  He’s got regular clients but he’s also got some minor league baseball teams who he does the books for.  He gets free tickets and he goes to as many games as he can, and Mom pretends to get into it.  She studies up on the player stats and then spends the whole game going ‘oh, Jay, this doesn’t look good.  Two outs, no one on base, and this guy only has a .203 batting average’ and Dad laps it up because he knows she has no idea what she’s talking about but she knows the lingo.”  Iolo trailed out, glancing over at Bastian and feeling the knot in his stomach ease a little at the soft smile on the younger man’s face.  “And that’s about it.  Typical, I guess.”

“They sound amazing.  They’re doing it right,” Bastian stated, hand twitching towards the dashboard again but holding back, picking up his phone and turning it between his hands nervously.  “Mine aren’t like that.”

“That’s fine,” Iolo said quickly.  “I—I kinda figured, honestly.  You talk about Micah,” he continued explaining even though Bastian made no sign of having heard, “but you never talk about your parents.”

“Micah’s my--,” Bastian broke off, working his jaw like he was chewing, trying to figure out how to start.  “First off, I didn’t show up at a good time.”

“What,” Iolo frowned and Bastian sighed, notching his elbow on the armrest on the door and resting his cheek against his fist, starting out the windshield without seeing.

“When she got pregnant with me…I wasn’t planned, ya know.  Ma and the Lieutenant had their lives planned out already, and Micah was eight so he wasn’t a little kid anymore.  They had plans—vacations, jobs, everything—and I wasn’t supposed to be there.  But then she got pregnant and it was a surprise to everyone involved, I guess, but they decided to make the best of it.” 

“Make the best of it,” Iolo echoed back, grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Then the Lieutenant had his accident,” Bastian continued neutrally.  “And everything went downhill fast.  Ma was seven months pregnant with me and—Micah says I wouldn’t even recognize what he was like before the accident.  He was—I don’t know,” Bastian grumbled.  “He was energetic and laughed and took care of everything.  Something broke in the house, he fixed it.  Someone wasn’t acting right, he sorted it out.  The entire neighborhood acted like he was the patriarch or something.  At least, that’s what I’m told.  I never knew him like that.  He was always closed off and—and disappointed.  And when I was a kid I didn’t know he wasn’t disappointed in me.  It was the stupid chair he was mad about all the time, but when you’re two you don’t get that, ya know?”

“Chair—a wheelchair,” Iolo asked, brow creased in confusion.

“He went from being this picture of a naval officer to confined to a wheelchair and teaching at Annapolis and—it was really tough for him,” Bastian nodded to himself.  “And I get it now but…well.  Anyway, it was rough.  And Ma—she couldn’t handle it.  She suddenly had to take care of her husband almost full-time.  They had to move into a house that the Lieutenant could get around in.  And she was still pregnant when all this was going on and Micah—he needed his parents too.  It was a mess, and to this day Micah shuts down when he talks about it.  It was bad.”

“Bas,” Iolo started but the younger man shook his head.

“Just—let me finish.  If I stop now it’ll be the end,” Bastian frowned, inhaling with a slight rattle in his throat.  “I was born and their divorce was finalized right before my first birthday.  And Ma took off; first to her family in Louisiana, then she started going off on long missionary service trips to build orphanages or schools or whatever all over the world.  She’d show up once in a while, and wrote letters and sent us little trinkets from wherever she was at the time.”  Bastian huffed out a soft laugh to himself.  “Thought she was my fairy godmother, swear to God.”

“Fuck,” Iolo breathed.   

“Micah took care of me,” Bastian said.  “I mean, our aunts took turns coming to stay with us and helping out, but Micah was—it’s like I imprinted on him.  He was the one I wanted, like all the time.  And—the Lieutenant was around but I didn’t know him.  I thought he was Micah’s dad but not mine?  He was just this man who lived in the house and told me to pick up my toys.  Those are all the memories I have about him for years.  I was four before we even gave each other a chance.  It got better after that.”  Silence filled the car as Bastian finished, his eyes closed lightly, his breathing slow and steady.  Then two hands touched him, one brushing his hip as it clicked his seatbelt free and the other cupping his shoulder.  “Aren’t you driving,” Bastian asked quietly.

“I pulled over five minutes ago,” Iolo answered, voice hushed and heavy.  “Come here?  Please?”

“Stick’s in the way,” Bastian pointed out but he shifted to face Iolo, knees drawn up to his chest, offering a small smile at the older man’s look of despair.  “It’s okay, Lo.  Sometimes things aren’t like they are in picture books.”

“You blame yourself,” Iolo whispered, sliding his palm up to cradle Bastian’s chin.

“I did.  For longer than I’d admit,” Bastian agreed easily.  “It’s gotten better.  We’ve gotten better.  Weirdly—he respects me more as I’ve gotten older.  And I get where he was coming from before.  We’ve reached an equilibrium, ya know?”

“No,” Iolo shook his head.  “I don’t understand any of this.  How—how the hell did you become this—this—after all that?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Bastian blinked in confusion.  “I’m not exactly inexplicable over here.  I adapt.  That’s really it.”

“But,” Iolo broke off, angry at himself for not having the words to explain.  Explain that Bastian was some kind of miracle.  Explain that Bastian—cheery, positive, bright Bastian—had no reason to be any of that.  And fuck, how did Jamie fit into it?  Had Jamie—what did he do when he found out?  When had Bastian chosen to tell him?  “I’m so sorry,” Iolo murmured, guilt twisting his heart painfully.  “I shouldn’t have asked.  I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

“I really hate this game,” Bastian admitted, eyelids flickering against the weight growing below his eyes.

“No more games,” Iolo said firmly.  “No more pushing, okay?”

“I guess it’s better that you know,” Bastian allowed but Iolo just shook his head again.

“That’s not the point, Bas.  You should be the one to choose when and what to tell me.  I don’t get to decide when I want to know something and then expect you to answer like you’re under oath.”

Bastian’s lips twitched up and he sniffed.  “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Bas--,”

“Let’s call it even,” Bastian interrupted quickly.  “Now I know about your engagement and you know about my parents.  We’re even and we’re not playing anymore.”

“That’s not even,” Iolo grumbled, reaching behind him to recline his seat.  “Come on.”  

*****

“Is that Iolo’s car,” Rey asked, leaning forward between Finn and Poe and pointing.

“Yeah,” Poe drew out, pulling over to the side of the road and parking a few feet behind the Audi.  “Finn, are you any good at fixing German cars?”

“We’ll find out,” Finn shrugged as he unbuckled his seatbelt and followed Rey and Poe out of his car.  “He’s got some serious tinting on his windows.”

“It was his CIA uncle’s car,” Poe explained casually.

“Seriously,” Rey blinked.

“Something like that,” Poe shrugged before tapping his knuckles against the driver’s window of Iolo’s car.  “Hey, anyone in there,” he called softly.  Finn squinted through the passenger side window, knocking against the glass too.

There was a long moment of nothing and Rey mimed trying the door handle.  Poe nodded, reaching for handle just as the door popped open and Iolo slid out, closing the door behind him quickly.  Poe scanned his friend quickly, focusing on his red rimmed eyes.  “What’s up,” Iolo asked, voice almost deliberately steady.

“Are—is everything okay,” Poe asked.

“Yeah,” Iolo answered crisply.  Finn tried the passenger door but it was locked.

“Where’s Bastian?”

“He’s in there,” Iolo said, looking over his shoulder at Rey’ and Finn’s worried expressions.  “Let it be, okay?”

“Hey, that’s your song,” Rey laughed, elbowing Finn in the ribs and getting a grunt in return.  “Seriously though, is he alive?”

“Completely alive,” Iolo confirmed with a nod.  “So everyone can—carry on.”

“Are you--,”

“Guys,” Poe interrupted Finn, his eyes on his friend, “I think Lo’s got this.”

“Thanks,” Iolo breathed, lips twitching up for a blink before pulling open his door just enough to slip in, closing it with a soft click.

“Thank God for tinted windows, huh,” Bastian sniffed from where he’d taken cover in the back seat.  Iolo snorted in response and held out a hand to steady the younger man as he climbed back into the passenger seat, collapsing into it with a sigh.

Iolo smiled softly, reaching over and wiping a stray tear away from the corner of younger man’s eye.  “They have their benefits,” he said too late, reaching across Bastian to pop open the glove box to reveal a slim box of tissues.

“Thanks,” Bastian mumbled, taking and twisting a tissue between his fingers.

“I’ve got your back, Bas,” Iolo answered honestly, his face still serious even as Bastian turned a small, pleased smile his direction.

*****

“Oh for God’s sake, why are you in Vegas?!”

“Han made a compelling case.”

“Dad!”

“Don’t worry, we only lost Kes once.”

“Dad!”                         

Chapter Text

**Two Weeks Later**

“And we’re off,” Bastian announced, voice crackling slightly over the speaker while Finn pushed his chair away from the table and stretching his arms over his head.  “You two are free to continue the obscene flirting you’ve been partaking in for the past hour and a half--,”

“Like you and Lo are any better,” Poe interrupted with an amused smirk while Finn glared playfully through the soundproof glass at his friend.

“I beg your pardon—when have I ever flirted with him on air,” Bastian demanded, affronted.

“Only because you haven’t had the chance,” Finn pointed out, getting to his feet.  Bastian considered that for a moment before shrugging and releasing his mic button to start shutting down for the night.

“Hey, I was wondering if you had any plans tomorrow afternoon,” Poe said, using his heels to swivel his seat around to look up at Finn with a smile.  Finn opened his mouth and Poe added quickly, “After the sports show, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” Finn chuckled.  “I’m actually busy but--,”

“No, you’re not,” Bastian’s voice countered suddenly, the man holding down his mic button as he shoved his laptop into his backpack one-handed.  “He’s not busy at all.”

“I want to go and watch,” Finn stated, a slight whine in his voice that had Bastian rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“Babe, I told you: no one watches.  We’re just messing around.”

“Okay, I’m going to need some context, please,” Poe said, voice shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.  Bastian frowned through the glass at the older man while Finn shook his head, looking disturbed.

“I think I want to know what you think we’re talking about,” Bastian drew out slowly.

Poe opened his mouth but Finn cut in quickly, “Softball.  We’re talking about softball.”

“Ah.  Less exciting,” Poe mentioned, flipping his notebook closed and standing.

“You guys made it to the finals,” Finn was saying to Bastian, who strolled into the recording booth with his bag slung over one shoulder and a bored look on his face.  “That’s really impressive, Bas.”

“I’m not a kid playing little league,” Bastian drawled.  “We goof around and somehow manage to win sometimes.  But I can’t imagine sitting through a game.”

“Rey said you guys are pretty good actually,” Finn stated.

“She was lying,” Bastian said flatly, instantly, and Poe laughed with surprise.

“What if we went to the game and then you and I can go out after,” Poe suggested, slipping an arm around Finn’s waist.

“No,” Bastian groaned, hands going to his temples.  “I want less people there, not more!”

“I can see if Iolo’s free,” Poe continued, ignoring Bastian completely as he kept his eyes on Finn’s brightly smiling face.

“That sounds great!”

“That sounds terrible,” Bastian moaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.  “I hate both of you.”

“See you tomorrow,” Finn beamed as Bastian dragged his feet towards the door out of the studio.  Bastian tossed up his middle finger over his shoulder as he pushed his way out.  “You don’t even like baseball,” Finn said to Poe curiously as the heavy door swung shut slowly behind his friend.

“Yeah, but Bastian’s reaction was worth it,” Poe shrugged.  “Besides, Lo and I can entertain ourselves.”

Finn’s smile softened and he leaned in to press a light kiss to the corner of Poe’s mouth.  “I like that we can annoy Bastian together now.”

“It’s rapidly becoming one of my favorite hobbies,” Poe admitted, the pair turning away for the door together.  “Don’t tell Lo; he’s on this weird protective kick.”

Finn hummed curiously.  “Weird.  Any idea why?”

Poe shook his head as Finn held open the door for them.  “Not a clue.  He’s not usual that type.”  Finn frowned in thought and Poe bumped his hip against Finn’s lightly.  “I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

“Right,” Finn allowed, not sounding convinced as they made their way leisurely out to the parking lot.

**Next Day**

A shadow fell over Poe’s cellphone screen and he squinted up, grinning as Iolo paused on the bleacher below, staring down at his friend.  “You got it?”

Iolo smirked, his hands in his pockets as he stepped down and took a seat next to his friend.  “Of course I do,” he said easily, tipping his sunglasses down his nose and looking out at the field where the two teams were warming up.  Poe picked up the two bottles of Coke that were at his feet, holding one out to Iolo, tapping it against the other’s arm to get his attention.  Iolo took it without looking away from Bastian, who was throwing and catching a ball with Rey in the infield, and drew out a small bottle from his pocket and held it out to Poe.

Poe took it was a grin, reading the label.  “Just like we’re back in college,” he mumbled, twisting open his Coke and taking a large gulp before unscrewing the finger of rum and emptying it into the soda bottle.

“I brought one for Finn too,” Iolo said, copying Poe’s motions with practiced ease, his empty finger of spiced rum disappearing back into his pocket.  “Where is the wunderkind?”

“Went to get something to eat about ten minutes ago,” Poe answered, glancing down at the time on his phone.

“Not that you’re timing him or anything,” Iolo teased before taking a smaller sip of his drink, leaning back against the bleacher behind him.  “So what are we in for?”

“Unless this turns into an Angels in the Outfield thing, probably three hours of mind-numbing boredom,” Poe said honestly.  “With rum,” he added as he took a pull of his drink while Iolo laughed, shaking his head.

“We’re terrible people.  We’ve got friends out there.”

“That doesn’t guarantee entertainment,” Poe mumbled before plastering on a smile as Finn came around the bleachers with three small red and white bags of popcorn in his arms.  “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I got it,” Finn answered, climbing his way up to the others and collapsing down on Poe’s other side.  He nodded at Iolo, who nodded back and accepted the popcorn offered to him.  “Excited for the game?”

“Can barely contain myself,” Iolo drawled back, flicking a kernel of popcorn into his mouth as the warm-up came to an end and the players in blue shirts headed for their dugout (which was little more than a fenced-in rectangle) and Bastian and his red shirted teammates got into their positions.  Bastian rolled his neck as he picked his spot, between second and third base, leaning closer to second, while Rey took to the pitcher’s mound.  Bastian glanced in their direction and Iolo fluttered his fingers in greeting.  Bastian covered his face with his glove, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“You two are cute,” Finn said, leaning forward to catch Iolo’s eye.

“No, he’s cute,” Iolo corrected as the first batter came to home plate.  “I’m just along for the ride.”

Poe and Finn exchanged smirks, which Iolo chose to ignore as he took a pull of his drink and pretended to be invested in the game.  Which was more difficult than he anticipated because even with Finn’s running commentary and Poe’s snide asides, neither team was particularly spectacular.  Bastian made an out in the first and then struck out at his at-bat.  Rey managed to get on second but didn’t score, while a blue shirt got a hit off her in the second inning and scored.  It was the top of the third and Iolo was wondering if he would have to go find another liquor store when he caught sight of a familiar figure crossing the front of the bleachers and taking a seat on the bottom level, his blue polo tucked into his khakis eerily like the day at the zoo.

“—just get through this half inning, they’ll be at the top of their batting order and they can get the point back,” Finn was saying, eyes glued to the field as Rey straightened for the first pitch of the inning.

“I say we just split Finn’s rum,” Poe muttered into the shell of Iolo’s ear while Iolo stared at the man’s back.

“That’s Bastian’s brother,” Iolo said, jerking his chin at said man.  Poe’ and Finn’s gazes instantly followed Iolo’s, missing as the batter hit a line drive down the third base line and sprinted to first.

“He didn’t say his brother was coming,” Finn blinked, lifting his sunglasses and squinting at Micah.  “Should we go and sit with him?”

“Iolo probably should,” Poe suggested and then wincing as both Iolo and Finn elbowed him in retaliation.  “Okay, fine.  Maybe we can get some good blackmail stories out of this at least.”

“Not likely,” Iolo answered, tucking his Coke under his arm and getting to his feet.  “Bastian was basically the apple of his brother’s eye.”

“Of course he was,” Poe grumbled, following Iolo and Finn down the bleachers as Rey struck out the second batter.

“Hi, Micah,” Iolo said, announcing their presence since the man was completely focused on his younger brother, who wasn’t looking their way at all.  Micah jumped a little in surprise before getting to his feet with an easy smile.

“Iolo.  It’s nice to see you again,” Micah replied, holding out his hand and Iolo shook it once with a nod.

“I didn’t know you were coming.  Oh, and this is Finn and Poe—they’re friends of Bastian’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” Micah smiled, shaking Finn’s hand and then Poe’s.  “I heard Bastian was trying to set the two of you up for some time.  He was extremely excited when you two finally started dating.”

Finn’s jaw dropped and Poe dropped his head with a sigh.  “He’s like a walking, talking Care Bear,” Poe muttered and Iolo stomped on his foot.

“Well, he loves love—has been fascinated by it his whole life,” Micah said casually, sitting back down with the others following just in time to see Bastian scoop up a ground ball and lob it towards the second baseman, who caught it with his foot on the base before throwing the ball to first base where the runner was called out.  Micah cried out happily, clapping, as Rey and the second baseman collided with Bastian, bouncing up and down. 

“Fuck, did you see that,” Finn shouted, shaking Poe’s shoulder excited.  “Did you see that?!”

“Yeah, I’m not blind,” Poe laughed, clapping along while Iolo whistled.  Bastian looked over as the teams changed positions, grinning embarrassedly at them before his eyes caught Micah and he waved over.  Micah shot him two thumbs’ up before gesturing for him to get to the dugout.

“He told me he spent the whole game running away from the ball,” Micah told Iolo as he stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles.  “I don’t know why I believe him anymore.”

“I think he didn’t want us to come watch,” Iolo shrugged.  “What brings you down to DC?”

“Our father had a meeting at the Pentagon,” Micah answered and Iolo felt the blood drain from his face.  “Our aunt Ruth is a nervous wreck driving around DC so I offered to take him down.  Traffic this hour will be a nightmare so I thought we would come by.”

“We,” Iolo repeated, voice tight.  Micah glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as the first batter stepped up.

“Dad is catching up with a few of his old navy pals.  I take it by your expression of horror that Bastian has mentioned the Lieutenant to you.”

“Does Bas know he’s here,” Iolo asked, his voice a low rumble and Poe looked at him concerned.

“Not yet,” Micah said, too casually for Iolo’s tastes and Poe touched Iolo’s hand lightly.  “Although he probably guessed by now,” he added, nodding towards the far dugout. 

Iolo looked over and saw Bastian leaning against the fencing, looking their direction, while Finn looked back and forth curiously.  “What’s going on,” Finn asked, keeping his voice hushed even though he didn’t know why.

“Our dad might be joining us,” Micah answered, sending Finn a smile, and Iolo watched for any kind of reaction from the younger man.  When Finn’s face remained puzzled, Iolo’s suspicions were confirmed—he was the only one Bastian had told.  Okay then.

“I’ll be right back,” Iolo stated, getting to his feet as Rey stepped up to the plate, tapping her bat against the toes of her cleats.  Iolo circled around the tall fencing behind home plate and around the back of the dugout to where Bastian was leaning against the chain-link fence, bracing himself with one arm over his head and smiling as Iolo drew closer.

“Coming over to distract me from the most important game of my life,” Bastian asked teasingly as Iolo stopped in front of him and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You’re doing great out there,” Iolo started and Bastian rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, coach, your support means a lot.”  Bastian leaned forward to rest his forehead against the fence.  “I feel like we’re in rival gangs or something, talking like this.”

Iolo snorted, reaching out and stroking the underside of Bastian’s wrist with his thumb.  “I’ll keep that particular fantasy of yours in mind for later.”  Bastian stuck out his tongue in retaliation and Iolo continued, “Thought I should let you know that your father is around.”

Bastian nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of metal hitting leather and cork as Rey hit a double.  “Yeah, I figured.  But I’ll eat my hat and glove if he’s actually here.  You okay with that?”

“What,” Iolo blinked.  “I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

“I told you we’re fine,” Bastian shrugged.  “But you seem kinda--,”

“Bas, you’re on deck,” one of his teammates called over as the second batter struck out.

“Got it!  One sec,” Bastian said over his shoulder before turning back to Iolo.  “Like I said, he’s probably off doing laps of the Mall Captain America-style or hanging out with some of his buddies that live around here.  Odds are that you won’t even see him, but if you do—don’t let the grumpy exterior fool you—it fooled me for about sixteen years.”

“Fuck,” Iolo breathed thoughtlessly and Bastian grimaced a little before shrugging again.

“Gotta pretend to practice my swing or whatever.  Talk to ya after--,”

“Wait,” Iolo interrupted, slipping two fingers between the diamond of the chain link to hold Bastian’s wrist in place.  “Who do I say I am?”

Bastian frowned.  “Look, I’d love to have some kind of philosophical conversation about identity with you right now but I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“Idiot,” Iolo smiled fondly.  “With your father.  Does he know--,”

“He knows I’m gay and there’s a good chance Micah has told him about you after the zoo,” Bastian said in a rush as one of his teammates started shoving his shoulder.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m going—I’m going, jeez!”

“Hit the ball that way,” Iolo joked, pointing, and Bastian made an exaggerated look of enlightenment which Iolo laughed at.  Bastian had just enough time to pick up one of the bats leaning against the fence before there was a crack and the batter took off for first, Rey dashing to third. 

Iolo opted to wait where he was while Bastian came up to bat, remembering something from his t-ball days about not walking behind home plate while a batter was up.  He looked around the field complex, missing the first few pitches to Bastian as he scanned the scene for any naval officers.  He was probably overreacting given that Bastian had spent thirty minutes of the car ride back from the cabin convincing Iolo that he and the Lieutenant were on good terms despite the fact that Bastian hadn’t let a slip a single ‘dad’ the entire time.  Iolo couldn’t explain it but something told him this was the one thing Bastian needed backup with—the younger man had everything under control until it came to his parents.  And Iolo could do that.  Then there was a crack and Finn jumped to his feet and Iolo whipped his attention back to the field to see Rey sprint home while Bastian ran through first.  The other runner was tagged out at second, but the dugout went crazy as Rey jogged in, laughing and beaming.

“Nice,” Iolo commented with a smile as Rey made her way through the high-fives to the wooden bench and grabbed a water bottle.

“Thanks.  What did you say to him?  That’s the first hit he’s had in weeks,” Rey grinned.

“I told him to hit the ball.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “You better be kidding.”

Iolo shrugged, smiling smugly, before turning away and heading back for the three leveled bleachers, feeling slightly better and slightly worse that there was no sight of anyone that fit Bastian’s description of the Lieutenant in eyesight.  Finn was smiling widely still, gesticulating frantically to Poe, who was doing a good job of humoring his boyfriend.  Micah watched Iolo approach and drop back into the empty spot beside him before asking, “Did you warn him?”

“I don’t think he’d want to be surprised right now,” Iolo replied, measured, and Micah nodded once.

“The last time they spoke, the two of them were amicable,” Micah mentioned, keeping his voice low and his eyes on Bastian, who was inching towards second.

Iolo bit back a snide comment about how parents are meant to be amicable with their children all the time and said instead, “That’s great.”  His tone must have given him away because Micah sent him a small, sad smile as the fifth batter struck out and the teams changed.

The next two innings were scoreless and about as interesting as watching grass grow in real time.  Iolo had tried to make stilted small talk with Micah, but it was a challenge since as soon as Bastian was in sight both of them lost the thread of conversation, too busy focusing on the man even if all he was doing was bouncing from foot to foot, bored, as Rey struck out one hitter after the other.  Finn commented on which pitch was most effective (“her slider is killer but today she’s fooling everyone with her curveball”) and Poe took the rest of Iolo’s rum and Coke and was downing it with an amused smile plastered on his face.

“Alright, this is it,” Finn said excitedly, leaning forward to talk to Micah and Iolo.  “If they score the game is over.  If not, it goes to sudden death innings.”

“That was nine already,” Poe blinked, glancing down at the empty bottle in his hand.  “This stuff is good.”

“No, you dope,” Finn rolled his eyes.  “They only play six.”

“Oh.  Well, if I’d known that I would’ve paced better,” Poe mumbled ruefully and Finn smacked him in the shoulder lightly.

“Looks like Bastian is up next,” Micah commented, although his voice shook slightly as he whispered in Iolo’s ear, “I can see why Bastian was fixated on getting them together.”

“Yeah, imagine this for a year but with more sexual tension,” Iolo muttered back and Micah laughed brightly while the batter hit a single and ran through first base while Bastian stepped up to bat.

“Out in four,” the pitcher shouted and Bastian pointed his bat at the pitcher’s mound before setting his feet and drawing his bat up, a smirk curving his lips up that Iolo could see even with the distance.

The first two pitches were called strikes by the umpire although Finn was convinced the first had clearly been a ball, which he declared loudly while Poe pulled him to sit back down by the back of his shirt.  Bastian adjusted slightly, twisting the toe of his left cleat into the dirt before looking up and waiting for the next pitch, which almost seemed to come in fast forward in Iolo’s eyes.  Inhale: Bastian was waiting for the pitch as the pitcher wound up.  Exhale: Bastian’s bat was on the ground and he was stumbling away from the plate, the ball rolling in the dirt by home plate at his feet.

“What the fuck,” Iolo asked, completely lost as Rey came running out of the dugout and the pitcher moved to home plate.

“Wild pitch,” Finn growled, on his feet again with his hands curled into fists.  “Hit him in the shoulder.”

“Shit,” Iolo groaned, standing up as well although he didn’t know what to do.  Micah was already walking around to the dugout as Rey and Bastian walked off, another red-shirted team member walking to first while the first batter moved to second.  “What’s happening?”

“If you hit the batter, the batter automatically goes to first,” Finn explained quickly.  “But Rey’s taking him out to check his injury so she’s putting in a pitch runner.  Hopefully it’s just a bruise but I swear to God if the pitcher did it on purpose I’m gonna--,”

“Okay, how about we go check on Bastian instead of contemplating murders,” Poe suggested, getting up and turning Finn by his hips away from the frankly scared looking pitcher.  The three of were just beginning to circle around when Micah and Bastian made their way out of the dugout, a small white icepack pressed to the younger man’s left shoulder.  “Everything okay,” Poe asked as the brothers drew closer.

“Nothing broken and nothing bleeding,” Bastian grinned.  “I could’ve stayed in but Rey freaked out so.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Micah added quickly.  Bastian rolled his eyes and Iolo got a sudden flashback to what Bastian must have been like as a teenager.  “We can sit down.”

“I dunno,” Bastian drew out teasingly, “I might not have the fortitude to complete the excruciating task of--,”

“I thought you outgrew the drama queen phase,” Micah said, completely flat and bored in tone and Iolo snorted as Bastian stuck out his tongue at his brother, who pinched it between his thumb and pointer finger and tweaked it.

“Don’t be mean to the walking injured,” Iolo interjected, wrapping an arm around Bastian’s waist and smiling softly back at the wide grin the younger man sent his way.

“He hit you on purpose,” Finn hissed, still fixated as they walked back over to the bleachers.

“No, he didn’t,” Bastian chuckled, bumping his hip against Iolo’s as they walked.

“How do you know?  He called you out and everything,” Finn snapped, waving a hand at the pitcher who had just struck out the third batter.

“I know because I know him and he doesn’t hate me,” Bastian laughed, raising his free hand and waving over to the mound as the next batter prepared.  The pitcher instantly waved back before cupping a hand around his mouth and shouting,

“Sorry, Bas!  Please don’t tell Frankie!  He’d kill me!”

“I’m telling him you knocked me out,” Bastian yelled back, taking a seat on the bottom bleacher while the pitcher tossed his head back and laughed.  “See?  No mal intent.  You are super paranoid, babe.”

Finn shrugged, still not looking quite convinced, but Iolo squeezed his shoulder as he climbed up to the second bleacher to sit behind Bastian, who leaned back to rest against the older man’s legs like it was second nature.  Iolo couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face at the action and stretched his hand down to hold the icepack against Bastian’s shoulder and Bastian’s hand dropped away, rubbing against his knee instead.

“Where were you hiding this athletic ability when I was trying to sign you up for sports,” Micah asked with a wink from his seat next to Bastian while the fourth swung and missed.

“Late bloomer and low motivation,” Bastian replied promptly.

“Low motivation,” Poe echoed curiously.

“Yep, I didn’t have Rey threatening to pull my hair out one strand at a time if I didn’t show up to the games,” Bastian smiled over before a collective scream brought his attention back to the field.  Iolo looked up just in time to see the center fielder scrambling backwards and the runner on second booking it around third and dashing for home.

“Shit,” Bastian chuckled, tilting his head as the rest of his team rushed the field, shouting and cheering, “guess we won, huh?”

*****

Frankly Iolo wasn’t sure if he should be insulted about how difficult it had been to get Bastian to agree to head back to his.  Iolo’s place was closer and he had a shower that was more extensive than a showerhead and a drain in the middle of the floor.  Still, Bastian had looked completely confused at the suggestion before finally agreeing in a bemused sort of way.

“I mean, if you really want to go back to yours--,”

“No, this is—I’ve never seen your lair before,” Bastian said as if that was something Iolo hadn’t been aware of.

“Yeah, I know,” Iolo shrugged, tapping his foot slightly against the floor of the elevator as it ascended.  “I don’t really invite people over much.  This is kinda where I go to get away from everything.”

There was a slight pause while Iolo watched the floor counter near twelve and then Bastian said, almost meekly, “I can still leave if you--,”

“I didn’t mean you,” Iolo cut in quickly, eyes wide as he studied the younger man, who was sucking on his bottom lip uncertainly.  “I meant—work and…and crowds and loud noises and…that sort of stuff,” he finished lamely, knowing exactly how strange that must sound to Bastian, the guy who couldn’t sleep without orchestration and people talking.

“I get that,” Bastian allowed easily as the elevator drew to a halt on the twelfth floor and the doors slid open.  “Everyone needs a sanctuary.”  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what Bastian’s sanctuary was but Iolo stopped himself, opting for leading the way off the elevator and down the hall to the left.  “I like to go on the roof sometimes,” the younger man continued and Iolo’s heart did a funny double-beat at the words.  “It’s not really the same because I listen to the traffic and people outside but—it’s where I go and I don’t really bring people up there.”

“It’s just like that,” Iolo smiled, stopping in front of 1207 and pulling his keys out of his pocket.  “And you’re not backing out now so come on in,” Iolo joked, hoping it sounded more confident than he felt as he pushed open the door and stepped to the side to let Bastian enter.

The younger man tip-toed in as if he was entering a newly discovered ancient tomb and Iolo cast his eyes to the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve any of this, before lunging forward to catch Bastian’s waist as he tripped and stumbled forward.  “Jeez,” Bastian wheezed while Iolo drew him to his chest, steadying the younger man on his feet.  “And you call my place a deathtrap? I’ve been in your place for two seconds!”

“So, those are my shoes,” Iolo huffed, holding on to Bastian longer than was strictly necessary, his left hand spread wide across the younger man’s chest and his right arm slung around his slim hips.

“And you keep them in a convenient pyramid in front of your door as an early-warning burglar alarm?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Iolo drawled, flicking on the light switch and finally releasing Bastian to close the door behind him as Bastian carefully made his way around the shoes and looked around the space.  Iolo remembered the last time he had someone new over, remembered how she had gone instantly to the short bookcase of DVDs, didn’t even glance at the masks on the wall by the kitchen or the two tall bookcases of books that framed either side of the TV or the proper wooden kitchen table with matching chairs.  Iolo watched as Bastian made his way methodically around the space, pausing as he examined each of the four masks like they were objects in a museum, rounding the kitchen table while skimming a hand over the back of one of the wooden chairs (the one Iolo sat in every night, not that Bastian could know), and finally stopping in front of the first tall case.

“Read a little,” Bastian joked, craning his neck back to look at the top shelf.  “Did you—oh my God, alphabetical by author last name?  You’re running your own private library, man.”

“And the overdue fees are steep,” Iolo replied, taking a seat on the arm of his couch.

“I bet they are,” Bastian said with a wink over his shoulder.  “I’ll google all of these later ‘cause I’m positive I don’t know a single one.”

“I’ve got Harry Potter,” Iolo offered, pointing to the second bookcase.

“Oh, I’ve got those memorized by now,” Bastian shrugged.  “So you said something about a shower I could use?”

“Right over here,” Iolo agreed, jerking his chin and gesturing to the partially closed door next to the closed door to his bedroom.  “Clean towels are in the basket under the sink.  And I’ll grab you some clothes.”

“Yeah, that’s not--,”

“It’s not a problem,” Iolo cut in, going into his bedroom and grabbing a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his dresser and then tossing them at the younger man, who didn’t even try to catch them.  “What, left all your coordination on the field?”  

“I don’t have coordination anywhere,” Bastian muttered back, scooping the clothes into his arms.  “So…I’m just gonna…go do this, right?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Iolo agreed.  Bastian nodded slowly, turning for the bathroom and Iolo blurted out, “Wait—do you have any food allergies?”

“Carrots.”

“Carrots—what?  Seriously?”

“I mean, it’s not deadly or anything.  Just kinda uncomfortable when my tongue swells and my throat itches.”  Bastian shrugged while Iolo stared, jaw hanging down.  “I mean, if your heart is set on carrot soup and carrot cake I can manage--,”

“Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there,” Iolo held up his hand, “because I think you’re aiming for ‘nice’ and hitting ‘insulting’ right on the dot.  Go shower and I’ll order a pizza or something.”

“Pizza’s good,” Bastian smiled.  “Olives?”

“On half, the other half is all pepperoni, all day.”

“Sounds fair.  Be back in a second.”  And with that Bastian shuffled his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“Jesus Christ,” Iolo mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair as he moved to sprawl out on his couch, ankles crossed over one of the armrests and his head cushioned on one of the squishy red pillows.  “ ‘Oh don’t mind me.  I can’t eat carrots but I’ll deal with a swollen tongue if that’s okay for you,’” he recited to himself, pitching his voice a bit higher mockingly, even as he scrolled through his phone for the number for the pizza place he preferred.

Iolo was just beginning to scroll through the TV guide when he heard the water shut off and the tell-tale rattle of the curtain being drawn to the side.  Fast shower—maybe Iolo should have mentioned he paid a standard rate for heating and hot water and Bastian could have taken his time.  Next time—Iolo blinked, eyes on the TV but his mind whirling.  Next time.  There was every chance that there would be a ‘next time’ where Bastian came over and took a shower.  Iolo was so far in over his head—

“Hey, so, I used your body wash.  I didn’t ask but I figured you probably knew I would since you offered and--,”

“That’s fine,” Iolo cut in easily, sitting up to make room for Bastian to join him on the couch.  “I need help using that shit up anyway—woods-y scent my ass.”

“It smells fine,” Bastian defended quickly, still standing just inside the living room and Iolo got the impression this is what a nervous Bastian looked like.

“Come over,” Iolo invited, slinging an arm over the back of the couch.  “Anything you want to watch?”

“Thursdays?  Nah, can’t think of anything,” Bastian answered, cautiously inching his way around the couch like he was waiting for Iolo to attack him.  The thought wasn’t far from Iolo’s mind because Bastian looked cozy with Iolo’s faded Virginia Tech t-shirt and the dark blue sweatpants he had rolled the waistband of so his feet poked out.  Iolo grinned dumbly up at Bastian, who frowned down it him, bemused.  “You okay there?  You’re looking a little dazed.”

“Just—caught in thought,” Iolo answered, voice feeling trapped in his chest.  Bastian didn’t appear to notice or care as he lowered himself down, slipping into the space along Iolo’s side, turning slightly so he could bend his legs to his chest and press his toes under Iolo’s thigh.  Iolo curled his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and offered the remote, which Bastian took and started scrolling, his head falling to Iolo’s shoulder.  “How’s the bruise,” Iolo asked softly.

“Barely feel it,” Bastian replied, pausing his channel-flipping on a MLS game.  Iolo pursed his lips, wondering how best to say that soccer wasn’t his thing when Bastian tossed the remote on the coffee table and said, “Tell me if this is okay.”

“If we’re being honest, soccer’s not—oh,” Iolo broke off as Bastian moved suddenly, tossing his left leg across the older man’s lap and straddling his thighs, hands resting gently on either side of Iolo’s neck.  Iolo’s hands went to Bastian’s hips instantly, pressing slightly until Bastian sat back on Iolo’s legs.  “Okay.”

Bastian’s eyes darted across Iolo’s face, searching for something, and Iolo waited, breathing in the warmth and scent of perfumed cedar.  “Okay,” Bastian echoed finally, leaning up onto his knees again to catch Iolo’s closed lips against his own parted pair.  Iolo tilted his head back obligingly, moving in tandem and opposition, eyes closing and arms wrapping up to pull the younger man closer.  Drawing back for a breath, Bastian inched closer, his hands moving to the back of the couch for support.

“Tell me—if this is okay,” Iolo gasped out and Bastian nodded instantly, agreeing mindlessly.  Iolo huffed out a small, happy laugh at that before wrenching the younger man to his chest with one arm, his other hand cupping the back of Bastian’s head as he swung his weight to the side until Bastian laid out below him on the couch, Iolo between his legs.

“Okay—very okay,” Bastian grinned and Iolo adjusted so one of Bastian’s legs was between his own.  The younger man tilted his head up and Iolo took the invitation, enjoying the feeling of his weight resting against another’s, feeling each heartbeat.

“Not to—be a dick,” Iolo began between light nips along Bastian’s arched neck, “but what—brought this—on?”

Bastian hummed lowly, sneaking a hand under Iolo’s button-up and palming his ribs.  “Dunno.  Just—been feeling close to you.  Wanted to let you know.”

“Yeah?  Close how,” Iolo asked, hand spread wide next to Bastian’s head so he could see the other’s expressions.

“Just—close.  Safe.  I dunno, it’s weird to say it out loud,” Bastian mumbled, focusing over Iolo’s left shoulder.

“You feel safe with me,” Iolo asked, heart accelerating more from those words than anything else.  Some of his wonder must have leaked into his voice because Bastian’s gaze snapped back to the older man’s face.

“Yeah, course I do,” Bastian answered, his hand moving under Iolo’s shirt to press against his heart. 

“That—that’s the greatest compliment anyone’s ever given me.”

“What the hell kind of fiancée did you have,” Bastian blurted out and Iolo burst out laughing, ducking to rest his forehead on the curve of Bastian’s nose.

“God, you’re fucking incredible,” Iolo beamed before his smiled softened at the pleased look on Bastian’s face.  “Stay the night?”

“Don’t you have to get up at the crack of dawn?”

“I do but you don’t have to,” Iolo said quickly.  “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable,” Bastian drew out, arching his hips up in emphasis and Iolo placed a soft kiss on the tip of Bastian’s nose.  “If you’re sure…”

“Very sure.”

“Then I’d like that,” Bastian stated with an awkward nod just as the doorbell rang.

“Looks like we have to pause this,” Iolo frowned, slowly getting to his feet.

“Yeah, you can keep making me feel safe later,” Bastian teased, stretching his arms above his head and then propping himself up on his elbows to watch Iolo head for the door.

“You’re joking but that’s exactly what I had in mind,” Iolo shot back with a wink before unlocking the door and fixing a mild smile on his face as he greeted the delivery guy.

**Next Morning**

“Cutting it close this morning,” Jess commented.

“There were compelling reasons not to show up at all,” Iolo grumbled back, breathing in the steam from his coffee as Karé double-checked the setting before air.

“Any ‘reasons’ I might know,” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Finn.  I hate you.” 

Chapter Text

**One Week Later**

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem,” Iolo replied mildly but amicably.  “I always like to catch up with the ones that flew the coop.”

Alex tossed his head back and laughed, and Iolo popped the lid off his black coffee to let it cool.  “Well, I didn’t fly far.  Have you heard any of our episodes?  I’d love to get some feedback from the Voice of DC Radio.”

Iolo rolled his eyes.  “That stupid article came out three years ago.  Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Never.  Now, come on.”

“I listened to your last two,” Iolo started, barely restraining a sigh as the other man sat up straighter, fully at attention.  “Good content, easy listening.  You need to work on your chemistry with your cohost.”

“Yeah,” Alex grumbled, tapping the bottom of his iced mocha cup against the small round wooden table the two men sat on either side of.  “It’s that obvious?”

“That you don’t trust each other?  Bleeds through just a bit.”

“Right,” Alex sighed, pulling at the corner of his eye in thought before looking back at Iolo.  “Any tips to work on that?  I heard your show this morning—you and the new guy were bantering like you’ve known each other forever.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because--,”

“Hey, isn’t that What’s-His-Face,” Alex interrupted, pointing through the long glass window beside them.  Iolo glanced over his shoulder in the direction indicated and smiled.

“Bastian,” Iolo supplied, tapping two knuckles against the window as Bastian drew closer.  The younger man had his cellphone to his ear, gesturing with his free hand as he spoke into the microphone, but glanced over when Iolo waved.  Bastian grinned, shooting a finger gun at Iolo through the window before pointing to his phone in explanation and continuing down the sidewalk.

“Shit, he’s looking good, isn’t he,” Alex commented and Iolo’s focus snapped back to his former co-worker, who was smiling as he watched Bastian’s back shrink as he walked away.  “Didn’t he used to be a scrawny little guy?”

Iolo thought back to Bastian’s earlier years at DC105, barely ever seeing more than a glimpse of him as he slipped out at the end of a night shift while Iolo arrived to prep for the Crew.  If he really thought about it, Bastian had been almost unhealthily skinny back then…and almost shy, which didn’t mesh with the knowledge Iolo had now.  But then, Jamie’s death would have still been fresh and—

“Hey, you still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Iolo blinked as the brunette across from him smirked.  “But—uh—Bastian’s doing well.  He’s the tech for Curious, you know.”

“Yeah, he was starting that when I left,” Alex answered.  “Doesn’t really explain the nice arms he’s got now.  Is he seeing anyone?”

Iolo took a sip of his coffee, considering, before saying, “I could ask.”

“I mean, if you don’t mind,” Alex shrugged.  “If he’s free, you can give him my number.”

“I—could do that,” Iolo offered, eyes on the dark liquid in the cup in his hand that rippled slightly as a woman in heels marched past their table.  “Back to the chemistry--,”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” Alex mumbled into his straw.

*****

“Hey.”

“Hey!  What are you doing here?  Isn’t it past your bedtime or something?”

“Jesus,” Iolo chuckled, leaning his hip against the soundboard as Bastian looked up at the older man from his seat.  “I fall asleep once before ten and now you’re trying to put me on a sleep schedule.”

“No one likes a grumpy Iolo.  He snarls,” Bastian commented, but added a smile and a wink that had Iolo grinning back softly, running the back of his fingers along one of Bastian’s cheeks.  “Seriously though,” he continued, leaning into the touch, “what are you doing here so late?”

“Had some sponsors’ paperwork to finish up and I didn’t want to take it home,” Iolo shrugged.

“You bigshots with your fancy paperwork,” Bastian drawled teasingly, and Iolo moved his hand to the back of the younger man’s neck and squeezed gently.

“So, I had coffee with Alex today,” Iolo began.

“Yeah, I saw you.  Sorry I didn’t stop—I’m volunteering at the Y and I was running late,” Bastian explained in a rush.

“You volunteer at—nope, I’ll circle back to that,” Iolo said, shaking his head.  “Well, anyway, Alex thinks you’re hot.”

“That’s nice,” Bastian mentioned, waving through the soundproof glass as Poe and Finn made their way into the studio.  “Do you think I’m hot?”

“You have your moments,” Iolo quipped lightly, nodding at Poe’s curious look he sent through the glass.  “He asked if you’re single.”

“Did ya let him down easy?”

Iolo breathed out a slightly too relieved sigh, leaning forward to place a quick kiss to the top of Bastian’s head.  “I will.”

“Will?  What, you wanted to string him along first?  Thanks for making me look like fast and loose, as my auntie would say.”

“Your aunt calls you ‘fast and loose,’” Iolo asked, blinking in surprise.

“Not to my face she doesn’t,” Bastian laughed, eyes on Finn as he came around to the connecting door.  “Should we pretend to be fighting and give him a heart attack?”

“No, I don’t want to be killed in my sleep tonight, thanks,” Iolo said flatly as Finn pushed open the door and poked his head in.

“Everything okay?  Lo, you’re never here this late.”

Bastian burst out laughing as Iolo tossed his arms up in exasperation.  “You people act like I disappear after the sun sets!”

“He’s trying to pimp me out and I’m considering,” Bastian said at the same time, rolling his seat away with his toes as Iolo rounded on him and Finn rounded on Iolo.

“What the fuck,” Finn started.

“Come on, Finn, is that even passingly believable,” Iolo scowled.  “Do you really think I’d share?”

“Tonight’s topic: possessive partners and how to recognize the warning signs,” Poe piped up, pushing the door open a bit wider to accommodate.

“Shut up,” Iolo suggested exasperatedly to his friend while Bastian continued to cackle quietly to himself.  “It’s not that funny, you know.”

“God, if you heard some of the shit Jamie used to say,” Bastian panted, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.  Iolo’s eyes widened at that but Bastian continued blasé, “Anything else or should I finish setting up for the show in seven minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you get back to it,” Iolo allowed.  “And I’m out of town this weekend, Poe, so I can’t babysit Kes, sorry.”

“Damn,” Poe groused, bumping his head against the door.  “He fell over yesterday and was down for twenty minutes before I got back from the store.”

“Holy shit,” Bastian muttered lowly.

“We could do something else,” Finn offered to his boyfriend.  “Or Kes can come along.  I could bring Dad--,”

“Thanks, but I’d like to go on a date with you and only you at some point, if you don’t mind,” Poe grumbled.

“I’ll hang out with him.”  Everyone slowly turned to look at Bastian, who was doing the final sound adjustments with his headset held up to his left ear.  At the pregnant pause, he slowly looked up from the controls.  “What?”

“You don’t even know Kes,” Finn drew out slowly.

“…is that a prerequisite,” Bastian asked, glancing over at Poe.  “Should I get my resume and references lined up too?”

“I mean, it sounds like a crummy way to spend a Saturday night,” Poe said hesitantly.  “I appreciate it—don’t get me wrong—but--,”

“I don’t have any other plans,” Bastian shrugged it away easily.  “What time should I stop by?”

“Seriously?  Now I feel bad,” Iolo frowned, and Bastian whacked the back of his hand against Iolo’s thigh.

“I am choosing to have no plans,” Bastian enunciated, dropping the headset to rest around his neck and checking the time again.  “My friend is having his third bachelor’s party and after the second it kinda loses its charm, ya know?”

“Third?  How old is he,” Poe asked, surprised.

“Twenty-six,” Bastian replied, eyes on the clock.  “He keeps getting engaged to his fiancée and then forgetting to get married—you’re on in two so get set.”

Poe and Finn exchanged a curious look before ducking back into their half of the studio, taking their seats while Bastian watched the seconds, hands poised over the pre-programed buttons.  Iolo took a step back as Bastian took them to air, playing the intro, and then pointing to Poe to start.  Bastian snapped his headset back on, leaving his left ear uncovered as he glanced back at Iolo curiously.

“Text me later,” Iolo asked with an easy smile as he headed for the door.

“Will do.  Get home safe.”

**Saturday Night**

“Right,” Bastian started, clapping his hands together, “some way, somehow I’ve been left in charge.”

“And you’re doing very well,” Luke said kindly from where he was seated on Finn’s couch.  Kes nodded agreeably, his foot elevated on the coffee table and his shoulder inches away from Luke’s.

“Thanks,” Bastian smiled, eyes wrinkling with amusement.  “So I figure we’ll find something on TV, kick back, and wait for your sons to come back.  Sound good?”

Kes and Luke exchanged a look, which Bastian missed as he turned to look for the TV remote.  Luke held up a finger and then said, “That sounds like a great idea, Bastian.  I’m sorry you have to spend your Saturday night with us.”

“No worries.  I didn’t have any plans anyway,” Bastian shrugged, flopping down in the armchair, remote in hand.

“I heard you’re dating Iolo,” Kes mentioned.  “Why aren’t you out doing what young people do on a Saturday night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bastian said primly, focused on flipping through channels.  “But if I did, I’d let you nosey old farts know that Iolo is in Delaware this weekend and unavailable for canoodling or whatever you call it.”

“How old does he think we are,” Kes asked Luke and the blonde mad shrugged back, shoulders shaking.

 “What do ya want to watch?  Movie, sports, something boring,” Bastian asked idly.

“Kes, weren’t you telling me about a Salvadorian restaurant you wanted to try,” Luke asked casually.  Kes blinked but nodded slowly as Bastian turned his attention to the man.

“Yes, Poe was talking about it.  I believe he said it was in Herndon.”

Bastian sucked in his bottom lip nervously.  “I’m not sure where that is.  I think Finn wanted us to stay in the apartment…”

“I understand completely,” Luke replied conciliatorily and Kes eyes widened as he caught on.  “We can always order in.”

“Right,” Bastian drew out, shifting to slide his phone out of his pocket.  “Maybe this Salvadorian place does delivery?”

“I looked it up,” Kes supplied, figuring he might as well share the blame with Luke.  “No delivery.”

“That sucks,” Bastian mumbled to himself, scrolling through his phone.  “I guess—I mean, we have to eat, right?”

Luke smiled.  “Man does not live by bread alone, but it certainly helps.”

Bastian clicked his tongue and Kes nudged Luke’s shoulder with his own, raising his eyebrows at the blond man, who smiled back smugly.  “Ya know, what the hell.  I don’t think I’ve ever had Salvadorian food,” Bastian announced, getting to his feet.  “Let’s check it out.”

“It will be my honor to treat you to your first pupusas,” Luke said solemnly while hiding his victorious grin as he helped Kes up with his crutches.

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds kinda sketchy,” Bastian replied, frowning curiously.

“They’re delicious,” Kes supplied helpfully, following Luke to the door as Bastian shoved his feet into his shoes and unlocked the door.

“Plenty of sketchy stuff is delicious,” Bastian mentioned, winking at Luke’s disapproving look.  “Relax, I’m just joking.”

“Good,” Luke accepted, stepping to the side to allow Kes hobble his way into the hall first.

“Mostly,” Bastian finished under his breath before laughing and dodging away from a half-hearted swipe to the ankle from Kes’s crutch while Luke shook his head, locking the door.  “Wait, hold on,” Bastian said, turning back to the door.  “I gotta do something first.”

***

“This is perfect,” Finn whispered into Poe’s ear, who jerked back in surprise.

“Warn a guy before you spit in his ear,” Poe replied, voice low and shaking with chuckles.  He offered the box of snowcaps as a raptor let out a loud screech on the screen and the novice movie-watchers jumped in surprise around the pair.  Finn took the box, dumped out a small handful, and passed them back, popping one snowcap into his mouth at a time.  “Too bad the movie sucks.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed with a shrug, “but it’s also outside on a nice night and I have you so I’ll let the terrible plot slide.”

“Gracious of you,” Poe teased, tipping the box to his mouth and inhaling five sugar-covered chocolate chips at once.

“I’m just a romantic at heart,” Finn joked backed, leaning back on his elbows and looking back at the large screen Jurassic Park was being projected on.  “Pass me the Sour Patch Kids?”

“What Sour Patch Kids,” Poe asked and Finn’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide in disbelief.  “Oh my God, you look like I just said I forgot to feed Zuri,” Poe laughed, lightly tossing a bright yellow bag of candy on Finn’s chest.  “You take your candy way too seriously, buddy.”

“I beg your pardon, I take candy as seriously as it deserves,” Finn shot back with a mock-offended look before glancing to the side as the group on lawn chairs next to them hissed a long ‘shush’ in their direction.  “Sorry,” Finn mumbled.

“Like they don’t know what happens,” Poe rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Finn’s back and rolling the younger man into his side, Finn’s head resting over Poe’s heart and Poe’s arms supporting both their weight as the watched the movie in silence for a few moments.  “Gimme a red one,” Poe whispered into Finn’s ear.

“Warn a guy,” Finn teased, ripping open the bag all the same, shaking the bag in his hand until a red Sour Patch Kid came to the top.

***

“Happy birthday, Mom,” Iolo grinned, wrapping his arms around his mother’s shoulders from behind as his dad placed a store-bought cake with a 6 and 0 candle standing in the center, the small flames flickering.

“Oh, aren’t you two the sweetest!  This better be coffee buttercream.”

“We’ll never know if you don’t make a wish and blow out the candles, Liz,” Iolo’s dad joked, leaning his weight on his palms next to his wife’s seat.  Elizabeth shot Jay a suspicious side-eye and Iolo leaned back, knowing from experience what the next tradition was.  Elizabeth quickly moved one hand to protect the candles’ flames and pursing her lips, but Jay was too fast and blew out the flickering flames from above. 

“Jay!”

“You would be disappointed if I didn’t,” Jay laughed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead.  “Iolo, serve it up.”

“Yeah, Dad.  No problem,” Iolo said, shaking his head at his parents’ antics and sliding the cake to the side, picking up the cake knife and setting to work, ignoring the blatantly happy kissing going on to his left.  “Got any plans for the summer?”

“Well, your father promised we’d rent a little cabin in the Poconos for a week.  But knowing my luck, we’ll be there three days before he starts complaining about there only being Phillies’ games on.”

“Who watches Pennsylvanian teams anyway,” Jay grumbled.

“People in Pennsylvania,” Iolo suggested with a sly little smile to his mother as he passed her the first slice of chocolate and espresso cake on a little blue and white dessert plate.

“Alright, smart alack,” his dad scolded playfully.  “I wasn’t asking for informed commentary.”

“My bad,” Iolo laughed, handing Jay the second plated slice and licking off some icing off his thumb as he turned away to pick up the wrapped box he’d left on his seat earlier.  “Here ya go, Mom.”

“I told you before, Iolo,” Elizabeth frowned, taking the box, “I don’t like you spending money on me.”

“I didn’t,” Iolo shrugged, cutting himself a narrow slice of cake and returning to his seat.  He watched his mom send him a suspicious look before carefully pulling the tape away with her thumbs, unwrapping the present meticulously.  Iolo and Jay shared an exasperated look before taking a bite of cake in unison.

“Oh!  Iolo, is this--?”

“Early edition,” Iolo finished, swallowing as his mother lifted the thin manuscript from the box carefully.  “Those are the first five that have been approved for the collection.  Including a two new.”

“That’s fantastic, sport,” Jay beamed, reaching across the dining table to ruffle Iolo’s hair, like he was a kid all over again.

“So fast,” Elizabeth breathed, eyes skimming the first page.  “I thought you said this would be over a year in the works.”

“Well, I still have a way to go,” Iolo answered, eyes on his cake slice.  “I—uh—I also have some new—help.”

“A new editor,” Elizabeth asked, glancing up, and Iolo scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh—kinda like a new editor,” Iolo hedged.

“Well, if they can get you to sit down and write whole new works, you should keep them around,” Jay joked.

“Yeah, I’m kinda thinking about keeping him around in a more—official role than ‘editor,’” Iolo admitted, closing his eyes at the double inhalations of surprise, bracing himself.

“You mean to tell me you have been here for over a day without mentioning you’re seeing someone,” Elizabeth accused.

“You’re in for it now,” Jay chuckled, shaking his head with a smile, settling back into his seat with his cake, ready to watch the interrogation unfold.

“What’s his name, how did you meet him, what does he do, what is your favorite thing about him--,”

“Mom, I’m not giving you a character summary on the guy,” Iolo rolled his eyes.

“You better start or else we’ll be here all night and I’ll miss the Yankees-Angels,” Jay warned.

“Spoiler alert: the Angels win,” Iolo smirked, and Jay pointed his fork at his son in idle threat.

“I didn’t raise you to disrespect the Yankees like that, sport.”

“What’s his name,” Elizabeth started again, a bit slower, “how did you meet him, what does he do, what’s your favorite thing--,”

“Bastian, we work at the station together, he’s a sound tech, and I like that he’s nothing like me,” Iolo said in a rush.  “Happy?”

“Work place romance,” Elizabeth sighed, hand over her heart, and Iolo frowned.

“Not exactly, Mom…”

“Let her have this one,” Jay shrugged.  “Is he new to the station?”

“No,” Iolo sighed.  “He works late shifts so we never really connected until recently.”

“How long is ‘recently,’” Elizabeth asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Uh, beginning of May?”

“The beginning of May?”

“Run, sport.  Save yourself!”

***

“Whoa!  No!  Hold on,” Bastian called out, slamming down his glass of Sprite on the table and sliding out of the booth seat, booking it towards the far side of the bar.  Luke’s head snapped away from the Liga MX football game on one of the screens to see Bastian dodge around a group at a tall table and skid to halt between Kes and some large, looming man.  Luke blinked, watching as Bastian held up his arms, hands spread wide in appeasement and sighed as he got to his feet.

“No problem,” Bastian explained to the stranger.  “No problems here, right, Kes?”

“He thinks Necaxa is better than Leon,” Kes countered, jerking his chin up.  “You’re wrong.  Necaxa couldn’t score if the other team didn’t show up.”

“Say that to my face,” the stranger rumbled lowly.

“Turn around and I will.”

“Okay, back up,” Bastian said as the stranger took a threatening step forward.  “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he whined slightly.  “But I’ll bet Kes is just joking.”

“I am very serious,” Kes shot back, drawing himself up as much as his crutches and broken leg would allow.

“Can I help,” Luke offered, tone even and light, and Bastian could have kissed the man for his timing.

“Something about soccer--Necaxa is better than Leon?  Can you sort it out?  I’m not—I don’t know what they’re saying but--,”

“Necaxa is a group of overpaid, untalented thugs,” Luke told the stranger very calmly, and Bastian wasn’t expecting the fist that shot past his head before the stranger’s friend restrained him.

“Oh for the love of God,” Bastian groaned, shifting to block both Luke and Kes now.  “El esta loco—uh—como…un cucaracha.  Both.  Dos.  Dos estan loco como un cucaracha.”

The stranger froze in his friend’s grip, frowning down at Bastian, who could feel the twin stares drilling into his back.  “Un cucaracha,” the stranger repeated slowly.

“Yeah—si.  La cucaracha,” Bastian nodded quickly.  “So—um—adios.  We’re gonna go now,” he finished in a rush, reaching behind him blindly until Luke’s hand settled in his and Bastian tugged.  “You got Kes,” he asked as he pulled Luke towards the exit.

“Yes, he’s right behind us,” Luke called over the collective shout that ran through the bar at a missed shot on goal.

“What the hell was that,” Bastian snapped once the three of them were on the sidewalk outside the bar.  “Don’t you get paid to deescalate conflict?”

“Kes had a point,” Luke answered, crossing his arms.  Bastian groaned, closing his eyes and bowing his head, missing the bright smile Kes sent Luke’s way.  “Anyway, I don’t think that was a very good bar.”

“Of course it’s not good,” Bastian moaned.  “You two have gotten us thrown out of all the good ones in this weird town!”

“You said we were crazy like a cockroach,” Kes stated, voice shaking.

“Oh good.”

“Good,” Luke echoed, unsure.

“That was what I was trying to say,” Bastian said, rolling his shoulders back as Kes burst out laughing.  “Alright, one more bar and then we’ll call it quits, okay?”

***

“This young man you’re dating,” Jay started overly nonchalantly and Iolo took a long gulp of beer in preparation.  “Is there any reason your mother and I are just hearing about him now?”

“No.”  Iolo could see his dad’s unamused look out of the corner of his eye and sighed.  “We’ve been keeping it casual.  Taking it slow.  For the first month or so we weren’t even really dating.”

“You make this more complicated than you need to,” Jay mentioned and Iolo shrugged, not disagreeing.  “The most important question is: does he like baseball?”

“He wouldn’t admit it but he basically carried his softball team to victory a couple weeks ago,” Iolo said, smiling privately at the memory.

“That sounds much more promising than the last few you’ve brought home,” Jay teased and Iolo elbowed his dad in the arm lightly.  “Are you going to tell me anything or is this going to be a classic Iolo Lockdown?”

“Dad, can you just leave the black-ops intel gathering to Mom?  How have you been?”

“Same old, same old,” Jay shrugged, focusing back on the screen now that the commercials had ended for the top of the fifth.  “Your mother is doing a lot better.  That scare shook her up pretty badly.”

“It shook us all up pretty badly,” Iolo sighed, glancing over his shoulder through the doorway to the den where Elizabeth was curled up in her flowery upholstered armchair with a thick book.  “But now she’ll be checking for it, right?”

“Religiously,” Jay confirmed.  “And I don’t want you worrying yourself raw about it, okay, sport?  Your mother is a tough cookie and it was just a false alarm anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Iolo replied before taking a long pull of his beer.  “Just—it’s never a good thing to hear.”

“I know, sport.  I know.”

***

“Where has dim sum been all my life?”

“I can’t believe you’ve never had dim sum before,” Poe chuckled, following Finn up the stairs to his apartment with a lazy, happy smile on his face.  Finn tossed a grin over his face, eyes narrowed from his wide smile, and Poe felt his heart beat a quick double-tap against his ribs.  “You’re gorgeous.”

“Uh, alright, non-sequitur,” Finn joked, looking straight ahead again just in time to avoid tripping on the last step, bouncing onto the third-floor landing instead.  “You’re kinda handsome yourself.”

“Well,” Poe sighed dramatically, “I’ll take what I can get.”

“You know what I mean,” Finn shrugged as he fished his keys out of his pocket.  “You’re just—amazing.  If we’re going to start this now we’ll be here for--,”

“Okay, now you’re overselling it,” Poe teased as he moved to press his chest against Finn’s back, arms around the younger man’s waist and chin on his shoulder as Finn slowly unlocked his apartment door.

“I’m really not,” Finn breathed, hand resting on his doorknob without turning, and Poe placed a soft kiss against Finn’s neck.  “No fair.”

“You started it,” Poe countered, voice low as he snaked one arm up Finn’s chest to grip the younger man’s smooth chin and turn his face to catch his lips in a harder kiss, tongues meeting and breathing speeding to match pace.

Too soon, Finn pulled back, smoothing his hand along the column of Poe’s neck, watching the older man open his eyes slowly.  “Dad,” Finn reminded, his voice a little rough already.

Poe grimaced before pulling back, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and adjusting slightly.  “Right.  He’s still finding ways to kill my love life in my thirties.”

“It won’t be forever,” Finn pointed out, equally chagrined as he rolled his shoulders back and opened the door before he got distracted again.  “Hey, we’re—hello?”

“Don’t tell me,” Poe rolled his eyes, closing the door to the strangely quiet apartment behind him as Finn started checking rooms.  “They’re all cuddling in your guestroom.”

“No.  No, they’re gone,” Finn answered, although he did double-check the guestroom just to be safe.  “Oh my God, they kidnapped Bas.”

“Seeing as Bas is the only one who can drive or order an Uber, I don’t think that’s what happened,” Poe mentioned, wandering into the kitchen, noticing a sheet of paper attached to the fridge door that Finn’s neatness wouldn’t have allowed.

“Where the hell did they go?!  Bas had one job—just keep them in here,” Finn groused, pulling out his phone and scrolling to find his friend’s number, pausing when he heard a snort from the kitchen.  “What?”

Poe had a hand over his mouth, which was barely hiding the smirk as his eyes scanned the paper in his hand.  He glanced over to Finn, cleared his throat, and read evenly, “ ‘Guys, I’m taking the dads out for dinner.  I think they’re going stir crazy.  I’ll keep them out until you text me.  Take your time.’”

“Take our time?  What the hell does that mean,” Finn frowned, switching over to his text messages and clicking on his string with Bastian.

“Finn.”  Finn glanced up to see Poe leaning against the kitchen island, smiling somewhat predatorily.  “He means we should take.  Our.  Time.”

“Oh.  Oh,” Finn repeated, eyes widening.  “Fuck, he’s such a good friend.”

“I’ll toast him later.  Get over here.”

***

“—and did you know he was almost abducted by an ice cream truck driver?”

Poe frowned, glancing in his rearview mirror at Bastian, who was fast asleep, curled into a ball against the small window of the Fiat.  “Nope.  Dad, are you sure he wasn’t messing with you?”

“It was very detailed,” Kes countered from the passenger seat.  “Although it wasn’t an actual abduction.  It turns out the ice cream man was trying to take him to the police station because he had seen that Bastian was at the park alone for three hours.”

“Uh huh,” Poe mumbled, attaching his phone to the car’s Bluetooth while he waited for the light to change.  “And how old was he?”

“Six.  His cousins came to get him and saw he was climbing into the back of an ice cream truck and caused quite a scene,” Kes said, sounding like he was imparting some great secret and Poe just hummed, hitting the call button as the light changed and he accelerated.

“How about I drive him home,” Poe offered as mechanical ringing came through the speakers, already recalculating his route.

“I thought it was out of the way,” Kes pointed out with a smirk.

“It is,” Poe allowed, shifting lanes.  “But apparently he’s also a danger to himself and I don’t need that on my conscience.”

“Hey,” came Iolo’s voice through the speakers.  “What’s up?”

“Are you aware you’re dating a cross between Captain America and a six-month old puppy,” Poe asked flatly, and Kes twisted around to check that Bastian hadn’t heard.  Bastian met Kes’s gaze and winked, holding a finger to his lips.

“Last I heard he was breaking up bar fights because Kes still thinks he’s twenty and can get away with it.”

“What,” Poe blurted out, barely making the entrance ramp to the Beltway as he threw a crazed glance at his father.  “Did you forget to mention that?”

“It wasn’t a fight,” Kes grumbled, holding his chin up and staring out the windshield.  “He threw one punch and Bastian told him I was crazy like a cockroach.”

Poe’s face twisted, grip on the steering wheel tightening.  “What does that even mean?”

“It’s basically all the Spanish Bas knows,” Iolo supplied helpfully.  “That and ‘Despacito’ lyrics but he didn’t think those would help.”

Poe snorted, rubbing his temple quickly before returning his hand to the wheel.  “How did he live to twenty-six?  That’s my real question.  Every story I hear about this guy is mindboggling.”

“Born under a lucky star,” Kes offered.

“No, that’s not it,” Iolo sighed.  “He calls it ‘adapting.’  I don’t think he realizes, you know?”

“Oh, I realize just fine, thanks,” Bastian cut in, and Poe swerved in his lane with a surprised squeak.

“Bas?  He’s with you?  Poe, you fucking moron--,”

“I thought you were asleep,” Poe accused as Bastian leaned forward, resting his elbow on the corner of Kes’s seat.

“Nah, I’ve been drinking soda all night.  I’m on a sugar high,” Bastian replied with an easy grin.  “Like, so much sugar, dude.”

“Right,” Poe drew out while Kes laughed and Iolo heaved a sigh through the speakers.  “Um, sorry?”

“Yeah, you can keep the puppy comments to yourself in the future,” Bastian shrugged, drumming his fingers against the leather armrest between the front seats.  “And, not that anyone cares, I wasn’t actually going to get in the ice cream truck.  I knew the whole Stranger-Danger thing.  I wasn’t actually an idiot.”

“What ice cream truck?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bastian answered smoothly before either Kes or Poe could interject.  “How’s home?”

“Good.  Dad’s mad the Yankees lost and Mom is sneaking a third piece of cake as if we’d stop her,” Iolo said, and his smile was evident through the speaker.  “Call me when you get back?”

“Sure,” Bastian nodded, sitting back and crossing his arms.  “Talk to ya then.”

“Sounds good.  And Kes, stop getting my guy into fights.  Poe, don’t be a moron.”

“Whatever,” Poe mumbled as the call disconnected and Kes sputtered indignantly.

**Monday Morning**

Iolo strolled into the studio five minutes to five on Monday morning, thermos of coffee in one hand and his bag over his left shoulder.  He passed the break room on his way to Studio Two, nodding to the slightly comatose-looking Jess, who was staring at the Keurig machine like it had insulted her.  He was opening the lid to his thermos with a flick of his thumb as he used his back to push open the door to the studio, and then almost dropped it at the loud, slightly hysterical-pitched laughter coming from inside the booth.

“It’s not that funny,” Finn scowled as Bastian bent at the waist, arms tight around his own waist as he cackled, a tear winding its way down his cheek.

“What the hell is going on,” Iolo asked, bemused, taking a step into the studio.

Finn exhaled heavily through his nose, putting the Tupperware container in his hands down on the desk and crossing his arms, watching as Bastian continued to laugh almost uncontrollably.  “I made him a cake.  As thanks for watching our dads on Saturday.”

“Oh.  Yeah, that’s hilarious,” Iolo said flatly, approaching Bastian and getting an arm around the younger man’s waist, attempting to help Bastian straighten up but instead Bastian just leaned all his weight against Iolo, who let out a ‘oof’ of surprise.  “Hey.  Hey, Bas, are you okay?”

“Th-the c-c-cake,” Bastian wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as he giggled.  Iolo reached out for the plastic container as Bastian’s left hand fisted around Iolo’s shirt and turned to press his face against Iolo’s neck.

Iolo’s lips twitched up at the soft, warm puffs of Bastian’s breath tickled his skin as he inspected the contents of the container.  “Uh, Finn? Is—is this carrot cake?”

“Yeah,” Finn drew out, brows drawing together as Iolo burst out laughing, which set Bastian off again.  “Okay, what the fuck?  Did you both take drugs this morning?”

“Nah,” Iolo panted, sliding the Tupperware back onto the desk.  “Nice thought, Finn.  I’m sure he appreciates the gesture.  Right, Bas?”  Bas snorted into the junction of Iolo’s neck and shoulder and Iolo continued, “That was a ‘thanks so much, Finn.’  But you know what—he’s likes to share.  Spread the joy.  So, we’re just going to leave this in the breakroom so every can have some cake on a Monday.  Great way to start the week.”

“Uh, okay,” Finn frowned, confused, as Iolo stepped away from Bastian long enough to put his stuff down before pulling Bastian back against him, grabbing the cake, and half-walking, half-dragging Bastian out of the studio.

“Long night,” Iolo asked as Bastian dragged his feet next to him.

“So long.  Couldn’t sleep Saturday and then work last night was weird.  Got, like, fifty calls, which is a record for Sunday overnights, I’m positive,” Bastian responded, rubbing a fist against his right eye and biting back a yawn.

Iolo hummed, handing off the cake to Jess, who didn’t even pause in taking the container and turning back into the breakroom.  “I’ve got an idea.”

“Okay,” Bastian agreed, the next yawn cracking his jaw as he hid it behind his hands.  Iolo smiled to himself, pulling the younger man to a halt just before the double glass doors out.

“What if you went back to my place?”

Bastian blinked once, twice.  “When?”

“Now,” Iolo said, barely keeping his voice steady as he pulled out his keychain from his pocket, focus trained on his fingers as he carefully unthreaded his apartment key from the ring.

“Like, I go to your place to sleep?”

“Yep,” Iolo nodded, holding up the key between his pointer and middle finger.  “What do you think?”

“I—well, why?”

“Because you’re adorable and I missed you this weekend and coming home to you in my bed sounds like a fucking amazing idea,” Iolo listed, finally looking Bastian in the face and catching a completely shocked expression cross the younger man’s features.  “But it’s completely up to you.”

“I—yeah, okay,” Bastian stammered, reaching out cautiously, as though he was waiting for Iolo to snatch it away.  Instead Iolo caught Bastian’s hand in his own and drew him by his fingers for a soft press of lips.  Bastian angled his face to the right and parted his lips to draw Iolo in but Iolo pulled back, nosing Bastian’s cheek as he did so and closing Bastian’s hand around the key.

“Leave the key under the mat for me,” Iolo breathed against Bastian’s parted mouth before turning back and heading off down the hall.

And five and a half hours later, Iolo leaned against the doorframe to his bedroom, taking in the scene.  Bastian, slumbering on his stomach with Iolo’s pillow tucked under his arm, face turned towards the small bedside radio which was softly playing DC105.  Iolo shed his jeans and stepped into his green plaid sleep pants, and then slipped into the bed, reaching over Bastian to click off the radio.  Instantly Bastian shifted, a soft grunt rumbling in his throat.  Iolo settled down, easing the pillow out of Bastian’s hold but catching the seeking hand with his own as he slid under Bastian’s arm.

“Fell asleep to me talking,” Iolo whispered, stroking Bastian’s shoulder as the younger man inched himself around Iolo.

“Nice voice,” Bastian garbled back, not opening his eyes.

“Thank you,” Iolo smiled, kissing the tip of Bastian’s ear as he moved to rest his head on Iolo’s chest.  “Go back to sleep.”

Bastian hummed low in evident agreement as his breathing evened out quickly.  Iolo waited another few moments, watching Bastian’s head move with each breath Iolo took, thumb rubbing small circles against the soft blue shirt sleeve covering Bastian’s shoulder.  Iolo suspected it was the Virginia Tech shirt that Bastian had worn the last time he’d been over and that made him smile like an idiot.  Once Iolo was sure Bastian was fully asleep he carefully stretched out his free arm and grabbed the notebook with the pen notched to the front cover from the bedside table.  He propped his knee up, tucking one arm behind his head as he balanced the notebook against his thigh, uncapping the pen with his teeth as he scanned where he had left off.

Since he was a child, others’ lives had flowed through him…  Like a lightning rod, he attracted, channeled, and still stood tall after.

Iolo glanced over at the man beside him, biting his bottom lip.  Well, it was clumsy—but it was a start.   

Chapter Text

**Thursday**

Bastian was standing in the cereal aisle, debating between Frosted Flakes and Life even though he was pretty sure the correct choice was Corn Flakes.  He angled his basket to the side so a woman—who had her life together and didn’t need three minutes to decide what cereal to buy for the week—could grab a box of Honey Bunches of Oats and hurry on her way.  What the hell, he was getting Life and no one was around to judge anyway.  He dropped the box into his basket and headed out of the aisle, turning down the next one to grab some applesauce (gotta have some fruit, right?).  He bent down to grab the plain, apple flavored pack, and his phone started buzzing in his back pocket. 

Juggling things around, Bastian got the handles of the basket around one of his arms, the applesauce tossed in clumsily, and he pulled out his phone, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer without looking at the incoming number.

“Hello,” Bastian answered, holding his phone against his ear while dropping the basket into his hand.

“Hey, is this Bastian,” asked a vaguely familiar male voice cheerfully, and Bastian held his phone away from his ear to squint at the unsaved number.

“Yep,” Bastian sighed, mentally preparing himself for a marketing call as he headed for the pasta aisle.  “And who are you?”

“Alex Crawford.  I used to work at DC105.”

“Oh.  Yeah, no—I remember,” Bastian stammered although it sounded like Alex was trying not to laugh.  “Uh, how have you been?”

“No complaints.  Is this a good time?  I got your number from Iolo--,”

“Right—did he tell you that I’m, um,” Bastian broke off uncertainly, looking over the long row of blue boxes filled with dried yellow pasta.

“That you two are dating?  Yeah, he finally dropped that little tidbit for me,” Alex chuckled.  “He’s a strange fella—always plays it close to the chest with relationships.  But I’m happy for the two of you.  Lo’s a good guy.”

“He’s a bit alright,” Bastian joked, slightly mocking Alex’s hint of a London accent, choosing a box of rotini and moseying out of the aisle, pausing for a moment to grab a jar of tomato and garlic sauce.  “So I’m guessing you’re not calling to try and steal me away.”

“Well, now that you’ve mention it,” Alex drew out with evident amusement, “that’s sort of spot on, actually.”

Bastian frowned, ducking into the corner of the bakery section by the bagel display and putting his basket down at his feet.  “I’m committed,” he stated firmly.

“To your job?”

“What,” Bastian blinked, hugging his free arm across his chest.

“I’m hosting a music-focused show—Monday to Saturday, noon to two.  We interview artists, introduce new artists, travel around a bit to find the new trends.”

“Sounds amazing,” Bastian offered, still confused, glancing down at the scuffed toes of his Chuck Taylors.

“It’s a blast, but I need a new cohost,” Alex said leadingly.

“Oh.  Wait—what,” Bastian asked, looking around nervously, feeling a little like he was doing something he shouldn’t be.

“I’ve looked up your sets.  You’ve been sneaking in some new, underexposed artists for years, haven’t you?”

“Well, there’s not a lot of people listening at three in the morning,” Bastian pointed out uncomfortably.

“I think it’s great,” Alex replied, sounding almost self-satisfied.  “And you’re a natural with callers—sincere with a sense of humor.  It’s a crime Iolo and Lando have exiled you to overnights.”

“It—I do other stuff too,” Bastian stumbled over his words.

“Yeah, the relationship show.  But you don’t get much airtime—the hosts run a tight ship.  But that one episode about a month back—where you filled in at the end?  Best segment on that show.”

“No, that’s not fair.  Poe and Finn--,”

“—do a great job, but they agree too much.  Then you stepped in and turned it upside down.  It was compelling and thoughtful and real.  And I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Did you talk to Iolo about this,” Bastian asked hesitantly.

“I’m not sure you know how poaching works, Bastian, but generally it doesn’t start by asking permission,” Alex mentioned.  “I played some of your stuff for my producer.  She agrees with me, and if you’re free sometime next week, we’d like to have you in for a sound test.”

Bastian swallowed drily, mind whizzing from thought to thought, until a man pulled open the glass door to grab a bagel and almost hit Bastian in the nose in the process.  “I—um, thank you.  Really.  Can I think about it?”

“Yeah, of course.  You’ve got my number now.  Let me know—oh, by the way,” Alex added quickly and Bastian brought his phone back to his ear.

“What?”

“This is the first call I’ve made.  I’m sort of hoping it’s the only one,” Alex said confidentially, and Bastian bit down on the loose cuticle of his left thumb.  “Talk to you soon.”

Bastian didn’t even get a response out before he heard the soft beep of the call being disconnected and he slowly brought his phone away from his hear, staring blankly down as the lit screen dimmed and then went black.  He swallowed again, eyes drifting over to the contents of his shopping basket.

New plan.

***

“Well, that was delicious,” Iolo smiled, getting to his feet with his plate in one hand and reaching for Bastian’s with his other.  “You just felt like cooking dinner tonight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bastian replied a bit too quickly, scrambling to his feet as well as Iolo made his way over to the sink.  “You can—leave those.  Uh, you want to watch a movie or something?”

Iolo shot a quick glance over his shoulder, trailing his eyes over Bastian’s tight shoulders and twisting fingers before carefully placing the dirty plates in the surprisingly deep sink.  “Whatever you want.  I’ve got to head back to mine before it gets too late.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bastian agreed.  “Um, do you want some more wine?”

“No, but I would love to know what’s going on in your head,” Iolo said as lightly and casually as he could, leaning his hip against the counter and shoving his hands into his jeans’ front pocket, hoping he looked non-confrontational as Bastian’s eyes went wide.

“N-nothing.  All good here.”

“Bas, you’re practically quivering,” Iolo stated flatly.  “And I’ve been around the block enough times to know when I’m being buttered up.  So, please, do us both a favor and talk to me.”

“I feel kinda guilty,” Bastian admitted to his bare feet, and Iolo tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck in preparation.

“Alright,” Iolo started, keeping his voice steady.  “Feel kinda guilty about what?”

“Alex called me,” Bastian blurted out and Iolo’s eyes narrowed.

“When?”

“This afternoon.  And I didn’t agree to anything but still--,”

“What did he call about,” Iolo pressed, his voice dangerously low and he hated it—hated how it rumbled through his chest, hated how his hands clenched deep in his pockets, hated how Bastian took a step back, as if he thought any of it was directed towards him.

“He—he wants to have a sound test with me,” Bastian mumbled and Iolo’s body went still.

“Did—did you say sound test,” Iolo breathed.  Bastian nodded jerkily, and Iolo exhaled, his knees buckling and he slid down the cabinet to the floor.  “Jesus Christ, Bas, you gave me a fucking heart attack,” Iolo huffed, smile spreading across his face.

“I—what are you talking about,” Bastian asked uncertainly.  Iolo looked up at the younger man, who was still hovering awkwardly by the table.

“Come, come here,” Iolo smiled softly, holding out his hand for Bastian, who took careful steps over to the man on the floor, folding himself down to sit cross-legged in front of the older man.  Iolo kept smiling, suppressing the need to chuckle at the skeptical look on Bastian’s face.  “Fuck, I thought—God, Bas, you scared me.”

“Are you mad,” Bastian asked, folding his hands in his lap and then quickly crossing his arms tightly over his chest.  “I—didn’t say ‘yes’ or anything.”

“Why on earth would I be mad?”

“You seemed pretty pissed,” Bastian pointed out, letting Iolo rest a hand on his bent knee.

“I was pissed because I was imagining punching Alex in the nuts for making a pass at you,” Iolo explained, rubbing his thumb around the slight indent of Bastian’s knee joint.

“If he had, I wouldn’t’ve gone through all this to tell you,” Bastian stated, waving his hand towards the oven.  “Do ya have any idea how hard it is to make biscuits?”

“Nope, but they were like buttery clouds and I appreciated them,” Iolo said, grinning at the flash of a pleased smile that crossed Bastian’s face.  “So, Alex is trying to poach you?”  Bastian nodded, eyes dropping to his lap and his left foot tapping against his right knee nervously.  “I guess he really took my advice to heart,” Iolo continued and Bastian’s head snapped up, shocked.

“What?  You told him to…” Bastian trailed off, pointing up at his face, eyes darting across Iolo’s smiling expression.

“No, I didn’t go quite that far,” Iolo chuckled, squeezing Bastian’s knee before moving his hand higher up the younger man’s thigh.  “But I told him he didn’t have much chemistry with his cohost and that it’s pretty hard to fake it.  I might have said he would be better off looking for a new one… He looked pretty close to home, that’s for sure.”

“And—you’re seriously not mad about it?”

Iolo’s brow furrowed, thinking that question over.  “Am I mad that he recognized your talent or am I mad that you haven’t said yes to an interview yet?”

Bastian blinked.  “Uh.  I kinda thought—I mean, if I got it—and there’s not much of a chance of that--,”

“Don’t say that,” Iolo frowned.

“—I’d leave the station,” Bastian finished, slowing the words as if Iolo wasn’t understanding.

Iolo nodded slowly.  “Yes.  You would be working at a different station with a promotion.  Bas,” Iolo skootched closer to the younger man, “do you know how many stations I worked at before DC105?”  Bastian shook his head, pursing his lips a little.  “Twelve.  The first two stations didn’t even let me near a microphone.  I put in my time, working the late hours, covering traffic every day for two years, all of it.  If there’s a crappy radio job I’ve done it.”

“Right,” Bastian drew out, looking confused and Iolo couldn’t resist cupping the younger man’s smooth cheek.

“I know about paying dues before getting a break.  You’ve paid yours, now you get to reap some reward for the years of overnights.  I’m happy for you, Bas,” Iolo stressed.  “And if you get this job, I want to be there when you tell Lando.”

That surprised a genuine laugh out of Bastian, and he seemed to relax for the first time that evening.  Iolo’s heart bumped a bit quicker in victory and flicked his thumb against the tip of Bastian’s nose teasingly.  “You think I should go for it,” Bastian asked, still sounding a tad too tentative for Iolo’s tastes.

“I think you should schedule that sound test first thing in the morning,” Iolo said firmly.  “But for now, you said something about more wine.”

“And a movie, now that I’m done buttering you up,” Bastian joked, pushing himself to his feet and then holding out a hand to pull Iolo to his feet.  Bastian turned off to head for the half-empty bottle of white wine on the counter, but Iolo tightened his grip to keep him close.

“Seriously, Bastian.  You deserve this.  Anyone who knows you knows that,” Iolo stated with certainty before leaning in and kissing the younger man’s lips gently.

**Friday Morning**

“What the hell did you do,” Finn asked too loudly for five in the morning, marching into Iolo’s cramped office, planting his feet and crossing his arms as he glared at the older man.  Iolo closed his eyes and then opened them wide, setting his clipboard to the side and squinting up at Finn.

“I haven’t been awake long enough to do anything,” Iolo answered, folding his hands loosely over his bellybutton and leaning back in his seat.

“Why are you trying to get rid of Bastian,” Finn accused, glaring, and Iolo inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Close the door,” he said, pointing, and Finn did so, still glaring at the older man.  “Have a seat,” Iolo continued, gesturing to the padded wooden chair in front of the desk.  Finn braced his hands against the back of the chair, leaning forward but not sitting.  Iolo rolled his eyes, picking up his mug of coffee and taking a quick gulp.  “So, Bastian told you the good news.”

“There’s nothing ‘good’ about it,” Finn snapped.  “He can’t leave.  Why did you tell him to leave?”

“He told me he had a chance for a promotion, with a show that has a good chance of getting syndicated, and I told him to go for it,” Iolo corrected calmly.  “It’s a great opportunity for him, Finn.”

“He can have great opportunities here,” Finn countered.

“He’s plateaued, Finn,” Iolo stated flatly.  “There is literally nowhere for him to go here.”

“He could be a guest contributor on some of the talk shows,” Finn suggested, and Iolo scratched the side of his nose.

“Is that what he wants?”

“I,” Finn hesitated, “I don’t know.”

“Even with that kind of raise, he wouldn’t be making what he could as a cohost of a daily show.  And he’ll be talking music, which you know is what he loves,” Iolo stressed. 

Finn groaned, moving to flop down in the seat.  “But you don’t have to let him go without a fight,” he grumbled, and Iolo raised an eyebrow.

“Just to be clear, I’m encouraging him to go for an interview at a station that's off the same metro stop as ours.  I’m not sending him off to sea.”

“But isn’t it better if he’s here,” Finn pressed.

“Not if he’s unhappy or stifled,” Iolo replied, sitting up to rest his elbows on his desk.  “And you should want what’s best for your friend.”

“But what if--,”

“No, Finn,” Iolo shook his head.  “Bastian is your friend, and if roles were reversed he’d be telling you to run and don’t look back.  And you know that,” he said, catching Finn’s eyes.  “And, as someone who’s been cohosting shows for a year now, you could give him some advice instead of acting like he’s been given marching orders to invade Antarctica.”

Finn sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.  “I don’t like it.”

“Tough shit,” Iolo responded mercilessly, getting to his feet.  “Come on, we’ve got a show to do.”

**Saturday Night**

“Thank you for having us,” Kes smiled across the table, Poe rolling his eyes at his father’s antics.

“No problem,” Iolo answered, coming back to the table from his kitchen with three full beer bottles in his hands.  “I feel like you’ve seen Bastian more than me recently, and you just met him.  I was getting a bit jealous,” he teased, putting the bottles down before taking a seat and sliding a bottle each towards the other two men.

“Bastian was texting me the other night,” Kes mentioned, and Poe coughed in surprise.  “He was asking about my doctor’s visit.”

“Of course he was,” Iolo breathed, smiling down at his beer and picking at the label with his thumb.

“Doesn’t he have a dad of his own to fawn over,” Poe asked grumpily before taking a pull of his beer.

“Careful,” Iolo warned lowly, and Kes’s back tensed while Poe’s head snapped up.

“Oh.  Is that—we don’t talk about that,” Poe asked, voice heavy with concern.

“No, you don’t,” Iolo stated, giving his friend a hard look, and Poe nodded slowly in acceptance.  There was a long, silent beat while Iolo took a long gulp of beer and father and son exchanged pointed looks.

“I heard Bas might be moving to a new job,” Poe said, keeping his voice casual.

“Is that so,” Kes asked, and, although the effort sounded pedantic, Iolo relaxed at the change.       

“He’s got an interview Monday afternoon,” Iolo supplied, rolling the sweating bottle between his palms idly.  “I think I’m more excited for it than he is, but what can you do.”

“He’d be moving stations,” Poe explained to Kes before turning back to his friend.  “And you’re being very mature about it.”

“Jesus,” Iolo huffed, crossing his arms.  “It’s not like I spent time with him at work to begin with.  And I want him to succeed, you know.”

“Sure,” Poe shrugged.  “But still, it’s normal to feel a bit uncomfortable with a change like that.  Completely natural.”

“Are you telling me or are you practicing this speech for Finn,” Iolo asked flatly.  Kes chortled at that and Poe cracked a slight smile.

“Bit of both.”

“Well, I’m all good with it,” Iolo said, shaking his head in amusement.  “I’m being ten kinds of mature and adult about it.”

“And Crawford’s whole ‘don’t touch, don’t date a coworker’ policy doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Poe teased, cocking an eyebrow.

“That’s a bonus,” Iolo mumbled into his bottle’s lip before taking a sip as Poe snorted.

“I think it’s excellent,” Kes announced abruptly, nodding his head sharply.  “He was telling me he was thinking about moving to a new apartment but he didn’t have enough saved for a—Dios mio!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Iolo coughed quickly, pounding his chest with a fist to dislodge the trickle of liquid that had gone down the wrong pipe.  “He—Bastian really said that?”

Kes frowned in confusion while Poe and Iolo stared at him with blatant incredulity.  “Yes,” Kes drew out.  “He said he’s been there for almost seven years and it was about time he moved somewhere new.”

“Holy shit,” Iolo gaped, turning wide eyes on Poe.  “That’s—that’s fucking crazy.”

Poe hunched his shoulders up to his ears.  “Who knows what’s going on in his head.”

“But that’s where—shit,” Iolo shook his head, breaking off with a bemused frown.  “But why was he telling you?”

Kes took a swallow of beer before clearing his throat.  “I have no idea.  I think he was just talking and I was there.”

“Or maybe he was practicing telling you,” Poe suggested.

“No, I think you’re the only one who role-plays your conversations beforehand,” Iolo said drily.  “But that’s a huge fucking deal—did you say ‘seven years,’” he continued in one breath, looking back at Kes.

“That’s what he told me,” Kes replied.

“Huh.  He told me six,” Iolo mumbled, mostly to himself, but Poe caught it and clicked his tongue.

“You lured us over with the promise of cheesecake,” Poe reminded, clumsily changing the topic.

“I did,” Iolo agreed, getting to his feet.  “Let’s move to comfier seats and I’ll grab dessert.”

The three of them settled in; Kes in the armchair that was usually covered with books and random pages on scribbled note and Poe and Iolo side by side on the couch, the TV showing Miss Congeniality, cut for television, softly in the background.  Iolo’s slice of cheesecake had been commandeered by Poe after Iolo had set it aside after a couple bites, and Kes was almost done with his second beer of the night.

“—never saw the appeal in racing cars but it was very exciting,” Kes finished.

“He’s gone loopy in his old age,” Poe muttered to Iolo, who kept an eager smile on his face as he asked,

“Did Han win?”

“Yes, he inched ahead and then changed lanes,” Kes explained, demonstrating with his hand and beer bottle.  “The other drive braked—to avoid the crash, you know--,”

“Sensible,” Poe grumbled and Iolo drove his elbow behind him, getting his friend right in the gut.

“—and Han cruised over the finish line,” Kes grinned.  “Luke said he could take four seconds off Han’s time, but since his stiches were still fresh he didn’t get behind the wheel.”

“At least someone had a sense of self-preservation on that trip,” Poe rolled his eyes.

“Was that the highlight of your Vegas trip,” Iolo asked, mainly to annoy Poe, but partly because he was fascinated by the idea of three men past middle age pulling crazier stunts than he had when he was a teenager.

“I would say so,” Kes responded, tilting his head in thought.  “Although the near miss in the fountain was--,”

“Alright, Dad, you’ve made your point,” Poe interrupted exasperated, putting the now empty plate on top of the other two on the coffee table, the forks in a row beside.  Iolo and Kes exchanged a quick smirk before Poe continued, “Iolo, been writing anything new lately?”

“I’ve been working on something,” Iolo allowed.  “Not sure if I’ll put it in the collection or not yet.  It’s still pretty rough.”

“Is it one of your suspense shorts,” Kes asked with clear excitement.

“No, sorry,” Iolo winced.  “I’m running a bit dry on those at the minute.  This is more of a character sketch told from multiple perspectives, instead of from the character’s POV.”

“Sounds promising,” Poe smiled.  “How long have you been working on it?”

“A couple weeks.  But like I said, I’m not sure where it’s going yet.  I might scrap it.”

“Or you can let Bastian have a look and he’ll fix it up,” Poe joked, reaching for his beer and missing the flash of panic that crossed his friend’s face.

“Iolo,” Kes started tentatively, eyes trained on Iolo’s slightly flushed face, but he paused at the sound of a quick double-knock on the apartment door.

“Who’s that,” Poe asked as Iolo got to his feet lazily.  “Everyone you would let in here is already here.”

Iolo rolled his eyes, flicking the deadbolt to the left before pulling open the door, his face schooled to a neutral expression, expecting it to be a neighbor with a bogus noise complaint or asking for a wine key.  Instead his jaw dropped slightly as his eyes scanned the dripping wet man standing on his doormat, studying his shoes.  “What the hell happened to you,” he gasped, and Bastian glanced up for a quick moment before he threw his arms around the older man’s neck, chest pressed tight to chest, and his face tucking into the junction of Iolo’s neck and shoulder—a spot he seemed to find every time, Iolo thought idly.  Iolo gripped Bastian right back, clutching a fistful of Bastian’s soaked t-shirt as he walked backwards a few steps, bringing the younger man inside and closing the door awkwardly behind Bastian.

“I-I c-can’t,” Bastian almost whimpered in Iolo’s skin, and Iolo’s heart squeezed uncomfortably.

“Can’t what?  Swim,” Iolo asked, hoping it came off as a joke even though it was his first concern as he ran a hand over Bastian’s short-chopped, wet curls.

“The—the interview,” Bastian breathed, and Iolo’s arms tensed around the younger man.

“What?  The interview?”

“Don’t want to leave,” Bastian admitted against Iolo’s pulse point, and Iolo swallowed drily.

“Okay.  Okay,” Iolo repeated, mind racing.  “Okay, first thing is you need to warm up,” he decided abruptly.  He urged Bastian to move towards the bathroom, regretting for the first time in a while that he couldn’t just pick someone up and carry them somewhere.  “Get out of those and take a warm—no, a hot shower,” he instructed as he pushed to hold Bastian at arm’s length, finally getting a look at the heart-wrenchingly scared look on the wet man’s face.  “I’ll grab you some dry clothes,” Iolo continued, hoping he sounded bracing.  “And then we can talk.  Once you’re comfortable.”

“I—Finn said—leaving,” Bastian stammered, his hand waving between himself and Iolo, and the older man had to take two deep breaths to reel himself in.

“We’ll talk after,” Iolo enunciated.  “No one is leaving, got it?”  Bastian held Iolo’s gaze for another long, suspended pause before nodding once.  “Good,” Iolo nodded back, stepping out of the small bathroom, hand on the doorknob.  “Take your time; if you catch pneumonia I promise I’ll be unbearable.”

Bastian snorted slightly at that, glancing away to the white and green shower curtain.  “Yeah, I remember.”

“And if this is all an elaborate ploy to get cuddles, I’m letting you know now it’s not necessary,” Iolo joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little more and he got a shaky smile for his efforts.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bastian answered, hands gripping the hem of his t-shirt before tilting his head inquisitively at Iolo.  The older man smiled again before closing the door with a soft click and his face dropping to a scowl.  He heard a clink of porcelain on metal and turned to see Poe turning away from the kitchen sink, Kes already leaning on his crutches by the apartment door.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Poe said quietly, approaching Iolo with his arms held out, but Iolo stepped away from the offer.

“The next time I see Finn, he better be groveling,” Iolo growled lowly, and Poe sighed, stepping away.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean--,”

“I know exactly what he meant,” Iolo snapped.  “And you can let him know that using Bastian’s justified fear of abandonment against him is fucking manipulative and cruel.”

“You know I stay out of their weird friendship,” Poe mentioned, keeping his voice soft, placating, but Iolo wasn’t having it.

“I stayed out of it too,” Iolo glared, “and look where that got us.  Bastian is fucking terrified because your boyfriend can’t let go.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Poe shot back, jaw clenching, and Kes shuffled his way closer to the pair, recognizing the warning signs.

“We don’t?  Come on, don’t be an idiot,” Iolo hissed.  “I know he was out with Finn and Rey tonight.  It hasn’t rained in weeks.  He turns up soaking wet and goddamn trembling, saying he can’t do the fucking interview.  But I’m sure they spent a quiet evening in, discussing Plato, and then had a platonic group shower.”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m fucking child,” Poe ground out.

“I don’t have to,” Iolo agreed sarcastically, “but it seems to be the only way to get through to you!”

“That’s enough,” Kes cut in as Poe’s eyes narrowed.  “Poe, we’re leaving.”

“Yeah,” Poe said, glare trained on Iolo.  “And when you feel like getting your head out of your ass, you can give me a call.”

“And when you stop defending your boyfriend who you know is in the wrong, you know where to find me,” Iolo shot back, turning away to his bedroom to grab a pair of sleep pants and a hoodie for Bastian, not looking back as he heard the door open and then slam shut.

***

Finn glanced down at his cellphone as the screen lit up with an incoming call.  He glanced over at Rey, who shrugged and picked up her remote, pausing the show and then reaching for her glass of red wine.  Finn smiled his thanks before answering the call with a swipe of his thumb.  “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Fine,” Poe replied, voice sounding strangely tight over through the speaker.  “How are you?”

“Great,” Finn replied, shrugging over at Rey’s questioning look.  “Uh, any reason for the call or…?”

“I was over at Iolo’s,” Poe stated, still sounding somewhat restrained, and Finn switched the call to speakerphone.  “Bastian came by.”

Finn and Rey exchanged a quick look.  “Oh.  Weird.  He said he had to get home,” Finn replied.  “He said he had to work on some of his sets for tomorrow.”

“Right,” Poe drew out in an exhausted drawl.  “Did he say anything else?”

“I—we were hanging out for a bit,” Finn said, frowning.  “We talked about a lot of things.  Are you okay, Poe?”

Poe grunted through the speaker and then heaved a long sigh.  “Finn, did you tell Bastian that he’d be leaving you if he went for that interview?”

“I—no, I didn’t—not like that,” Finn stammered, casting an alarmed look at Rey, who sat up straight and leaned closer to the phone.  “I—I asked if he’d miss us if he left but--,”

“Ah fuck,” Poe groaned, voice slightly obscured by the static of his harsh exhale.  “No, Finn—why would you do that?”

“I-I wanted him to know we’d miss him,” Finn defended quickly.  “Because Iolo is practically pushing him out the door and--,”

“No, no, buddy, that’s not what he’s doing.  Goddammit,” Poe muttered, and Finn could almost see him running his hand through his hair.  “Okay, Finn, you know I stay as far out of your and Bastian’s thing, right?  You know that?”

“I—yeah, I know.  What’s going on,” Finn asked, feeling lost and slightly on edge.

“Bastian turned up at Iolo’s looking he’d just swam the Potomac,” Poe answered.  “And he—he seems to be under the impression that you accused him of leaving or walking out or something.”

“No, that’s not what I said,” Finn stressed, and Rey reached out and squeezed his shoulder quickly.

“And—look, I don’t know Bastian very well.  But I know you have a thing about keeping people you care about close to you.  And Iolo thinks you played on some abandonment issues he might have—maybe Jamie or--,”

“His mother,” Rey mouthed and Finn moaned, closing his eyes.

“No, but—I didn’t do it on purpose,” Finn said in a rush, panic starting to rise.  “I just—I wanted him to know that having him at the station was important to me—to us,” he corrected, looking to Rey for support.

“I get that, but, buddy,” Poe broke off with exhausted sigh.  “Finn, I don’t understand what the factors in play are…but if Bastian thinks that it’s a choice between you and that interview, then he’s going to be working overnights for the rest of his life.”

“Fuck,” Finn groaned, getting to his feet and heading for his sneakers he had kicked off by the door.  “What’s Iolo’s address?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Poe warned, a slight manic edge to his tone of voice.

“Well, I’m not letting him go to sleep, thinking I think he’s abandoning me,” Finn snapped, shoving his feet into his shoes, bending down to wiggle his finger into the heel of his left shoe to adjust.  “You don’t know—that’s, like, the worst thing you could say to Bastian.  Calling him a murderer would be nicer.”

“Yeah, I got the idea,” Poe mumbled.

“Wait—did you say he was wet?  Why was he wet,” Finn demanded, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he marched out of Rey’s apartment.

“I dunno; Iolo basically threw me out before I got an explanation on that.”

“He threw you out?!”

***

“You know, the thing about this movie is,” Bastian said around the spoonful of moose tracks ice cream, “Matthews had the hots for her way before her make-over.  But they make him look all shallow, like he’d only ever get with her once she discovered hairspray.”

“Yeah, that’s the crucial point of order with the movie,” Iolo drawled, watching as Bastian shrugged and turned his attention back to the bowl in his lap as Michael Caine and Sandra Bullock had a heart to heart on screen.

“I mean, I like the movie,” Bastian continued, gathering some melting ice cream onto his spoon.  “And he does have that nice speech about how he chose her for the mission or whatever because she’s smart and funny…which is usually the kiss of death in rom-coms, right?”

“I don’t know,” Iolo answered truthfully and Bastian shot him a bland look.

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me with all the women you’ve dated and been engaged to, you haven’t seen the assemblage of romantic comedies?”

Iolo snorted, clicking the TV to mute and turning to face Bastian, one arm slung along the back of the couch.  “I was engaged one time,” Iolo pointed out, barely keeping a straight face as Bastian smirked and muttered ‘semantics,’ “and funnily enough, besides seeing the Notebook more times than I want to count, rom-coms didn’t play much of a role.”

“Ah, nice.  A classic,” Bastian smiled fondly.  “That kiss in the rain?”  Bastian put a hand over his heart dramatically, closing his eyes as if he was picturing it in his mind.

“Yeah, well, you’ve lost any chance of that happening, sorry,” Iolo stated, taking the empty bowl away and placing it on the coffee table as Bastian sputtered indignantly.  “Now that I know you can’t walk by a water installment without almost drowning.”

“No fair,” Bastian frowned, nearly pouting but not quite.  “I was distracted!  And why was it even on at ten at night?  Seriously, I think there’s some public planners who share some blame in all this.”

“Uh-huh.  Sure,” Iolo appeased, not believing a word of Bastian’s defense.  “You want to talk about what had you distracted enough to not notice curtains of water?”

“Not really,” Bastian mumbled even as he shifted to lean into Iolo’s side.

“Alright,” Iolo allowed, spreading his left hand’s fingers wide and Bastian neatly threaded his fingers between Iolo’s.  “Well, this is what I think happened.  Finn doesn’t like the idea of leaving the station because he likes having his best friend around.  So tonight, while you were hanging out, he put the guilt trip on you.  Now you don’t want to do the interview because you don’t want to leave him.  Am I in the ballpark?”

“Not just him,” Bastian replied reluctantly, eyes focused on their joined hands, and Iolo glanced down, admiring the contrast between his freckled skin and Bastian’s smooth, rich skin.  “I don’t want to leave any of you.”

“Right,” Iolo drew out, squeezing their fingers together, “but you see how being with us and taking a new job aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“But I won’t be around as much,” Bastian said apologetically.

“You might be around more since you’ll be working regular hours,” Iolo mused.  Bastian hummed curiously, looking up, and Iolo shrugged.  “Regular for radio at least.  No more Sunday overnight, Tuesday overnight, Wednesday night, Friday overnight.  We could go out on a Friday night; how weird would that be?”

Bastian huffed a small chuckle at Iolo’s exaggerated excitement.  “I guess.  But I wouldn’t see Finn--,”

“Bas, tell me: how much do you see Finn at the station during a week?”

“I,” Bastian paused, blinking.  “Just during Curious.”

“Two hours,” Iolo said.  “I’m positive you’ll be able to find two hours to hang out with Finn without soundproof glass between you.  For God’s sake, Alex records in a studio twenty minutes from ours!”

Bastian frowned, looking like Iolo had just told him the earth revolved around the moon.  “When you say it like that…”

“When I say it like that, it almost sounds like you’re not leaving all your friends out to dry,” Iolo finished flatly before cracking a smile as Bastian swayed forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.  “Feel a little better?”

“I mean, I was feeling better when I got ice cream after a warm shower,” Bastian teased with a wink.  “You found the way to my heart.”

“I kinda hope that’s not true, because I don’t want it to be that easy.”

Bastian’s jaw dropped, staring at the older man in surprise before ducking his head.  “Jeez, you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Of course I can.  Because I mean them.  Every word,” Iolo spelled out slowly.  “And it should go without saying but, I believe in you and I—whoa!”  Iolo broke off, eyes going wide as Bastian flinched away like he had been punched.  “Bas, what—did I say something--?”

“No,” Bastian said quickly, almost choking on the word.  “No, you—you didn’t say anything wrong or…whatever.  Just—don’t think I’ve given anything to deserve that kind of vote of confidence, ya know,” he finished, lilting his voice up in a joking manner but Iolo’s expression stayed dead serious.

“Oh yeah?  Hold on a second,” Iolo said, getting to his feet quickly, Bastian leaning to follow before the older man untangled their fingers and moved into his bedroom, emerging seconds later with a neat stack of paper, bound at the corner with a butterfly clip.  “These are edit proofs for the two works I’ve finished since our first pre-date.”

“Okay,” Bastian replied, bemused as Iolo shoved the pages at him.

“Two new works, complete and edited, in less than three months,” Iolo explained carefully, watching Bastian take the offered pages with two hands, like it was a religious text.  “Because of you.”

“I’m not comfortable with you giving me credit for stuff I had nothing to do with,” Bastian countered without looking away from the top sheet.

“The first is the one that you talked me through my writer’s block,” Iolo continued.  “The second is the one you restructured while sleep deprived.”

“Yeah, but you make it sound like I knew what I was doing,” Bastian grimaced, looking up at the other man.  “I was just asking you questions.”

“The right questions,” Iolo emphasized.  “I believe in you because I’ve seen what you’re capable of when you’re just flying on instinct.  I can only imagine what you can do when you actually try.”

Bastian’s gawked up at Iolo, not knowing how to even begin replying to that.  He was spared by a frantic pounding on Iolo’s door and the older man groaned, heading around the couch to answer with a grumbled, “It’s like Grand Central Station here tonight.”

“I’m so sorry,” Finn blurted out as soon as Iolo pulled open the door.  “I didn’t mean it and of course he’s not abandoning us and I’ll still see him whenever and I never meant that he’d have to choose and I didn’t think he’d jump in the river--,”

“Wait, I did what?”

*****

“Hey, you idiot, you forgot your toothbrush,” Bastian laughed, chucking said object at the back of the head of the man standing at the long table with his back to Bastian.  The toothbrush hit him flat against his sleek, straight black hair, and he turned around with a teasing glare trained on Bastian.

“Nice, princess, very nice.”

“Shut up,” Bastian rolled his eyes, picking up his can of Coke he’d left on the improvised kitchen island while he did a final check of the loft.  “You would’ve been whining like a baby once you got there and realized you didn’t have it.”

“Dental hygiene is important,” he replied, bending to scoop his toothbrush off the floor and then inspecting the bristles for a moment before dropping it into the duffle bag on the table.  “I’m sorry.”

“I mean, I don’t really care,” Bastian shrugged as Jamie turned to face him.  “Just a toothbrush, love.”

Jamie ran a hand through his hair and Bastian smiled as his fingers got caught on a knot.  Jamie never brushed his hair, and then got pissed off when it got tangled.  Bastian had suggested cutting it off at one point, but his heart hadn’t been in it.  “I meant—fuck,” Jamie grumbled, working at the knot with two fingers.  Bastian watched for a moment before putting his Coke down again and moving to help.  “Thanks.”

“The price I pay,” Bastian teased, rolling the knotted hair between his thumb and forefinger before starting to untangle the hair with experience and laser focus.

“I’m sorry I’m missing your first day at work,” Jamie blurted out, instantly crossing his arms as Bastian paused and glanced at his partner’s face.

“We talked about this, Jamie.  It’s fine.  You’ve had this trip planned for months—which is more than can be said for most of your life.”

Jamie let out a soft huffed laugh, leaning forward to kiss the crow’s feet at the corner of Bastian’s left eye, his newest fascination—Bastian had seen three pages of Jamie’s sketchbook filled with graphite drafts of his left eye.  “I feel like I should stay,” Jamie continued and Bastian went back to the knot.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  Just a feeling I have,” Jamie answered vaguely.  Bastian exhaled heavily through his nose, slotting his fingers between the loosened strands and combing through Jamie’s freed hair.

“There.  All good,” Bastian murmured, taking a step back, but Jamie’s hands came settle around his waist and hold him in place.  “Love, you know you have to go.”

“It’s just a wedding.  Odds are they’ll get divorced anyway.”

“Don’t curse them like that,” Bastian scowled, smacking the back of his hand against Jamie’s chest lightly.  “Now you have to go and I have to go light a candle to counteract that voodoo you just put on them.”

“Superstitious,” Jamie pointed out, jokingly, pulling Bastian against his chest and resting his chin on top of Bastian’s bowed head.

“Heartless,” Bastian countered without any anger, running his finger along one of the brushstrokes of the Japanese character painted on Jamie’s t-shirt.  “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” Jamie recited, running his hand along Bastian’s spine.  “I’ll be back in a week.  You can finally clean the apartment without pissing me off.”

“Thank you, stepmother,” Bastian drawled and then yelped in surprise as Jamie’s hand whacked him on the ass.  “Ow, you bastard.”

“And you’re going to be great,” Jamie said as if he hadn’t heard.  Bastian grumbled to himself, slinging his arms around the taller man’s waist and nodding.  “I’ll call before, to keep you from throwing up from stage fright.”

“I outgrew stage fright years ago,” Bastian groused and Jamie’s chest shook with silent laughter.

“Whatever you say, princess.”  Bastian pulled back to glare but Jamie was already moving away, going for his duffle bag.  “I know you’re nervous.  You don’t hide it well.”

“My resume says otherwise,” Bastian shot back, crossing his arms as the taller man slung the oblong black bag's strap over his shoulder.

“Well, you’re going to be amazing.  Best at the station,” Jamie assured, placing a hand on each of Bastian’s shoulders and then leaning down to place a soft, gentle kiss against Bastian’s upturned lips.  “You’re the only thing I believe in.”

Bastian inhaled sharply, biting down on his bottom lip.  “You can’t just say stuff like that and then leave.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jamie promised, removing his hands from Bastian and then working off one of the silver rings off his right hand.  “And I want this back when I get home so you better not lose it,” he added in mild threat, passing the ring over.  Bastian smiled twitchingly, eyes feeling heavy as he took the ring and slid it onto his left thumb, the only finger it would fit. 

“Never lost it before, ya know,” Bastian mentioned, turning his face up for another kiss.

“I know.  Still—keep it close and remember you’ve got me and I’m coming back.”

Bastian shot up in his bed, eyes wide and wild, gasping for breath.  His hands flew across the mattress, searching, but there was nothing but smooth sheets and discarded blankets.  There was a blaring, pulsing in his ears, making his head spin.  Wailing.  Screeching.

“Damn it,” he gasped, scrambling to the edge of his mattress and tapping in the code to turn off his alarm.

Silence fell like a boulder in the loft, his panting breaths almost echoing through the space, too loud to Bastian’s ears.  He pressed his palm against his rapid beating heart, leaning back against the wall, keeping his back straight like he’d been told would help as he forced himself to count.

Inhale.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.

Hold.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.

Exhale.  Two.  Three. Four.  Five.

Bastian hated that damn breathing exercise.  Hated it when he’d learned it, hated it more when he had to use it.  But eventually his chest didn’t feel like it was being squeezed by a clamp and his hand resting on top of the sheets stopped jerking against his will.

Finally, Bastian looked around, noting the sunlight coming through the skylight above the foot of his mattress.  He blinked, thinking.  He didn’t usually set alarms after an overnight.  Especially on a Monday—he didn’t even have volunteering on Mondays.

“Oh crap,” Bastian breathed, forcing himself to his feet, bracing his hand against the wall as his head spun a little at the sudden movement.  When he felt steady enough, he stepped off the mattress and headed over to the light blue button-up and light gray slacks that he had laid out earlier that day, after he’d showered and before he’d gone for his nap.

Going over to the trunk against the wall, Bastian knelt down and grabbed his deodorant, eyes landing on the silver ring resting innocently to his small bottle of cologne.  He mindless rolled his deodorant under first his left then right armpit, staring down at the loop of metal.

“Fuck,” he groaned to himself, capping the deodorant and picking up the ring, sliding it onto his left thumb with a scowl.  “Yeah, whatever,” he directed up to his skylight.  “So I’m still fucking superstitious.”

He’d deal with that later.  One fucking thing at a time.   

Chapter Text

**Two Weeks Later**

“One last thing,” Alex said, sitting on the edge of the desk, leg swinging lazily from where it was cocked over the corner.  Bastian looked up, pen poised over the bottom of the last page of the paper-clipped contract, raising an eyebrow questioning.  “Once you sign that, you’re officially off the market forever as far as I’m concerned.”

“Dude, I’ve always been off the market as far as you’re concerned,” Bastian answered with a smirk.  Alex blinked and then tossed his head back with a hearty belly laugh, and Bastian looked back at the page, not hesitating as he quickly scribbled his sharp signature.

“Lad, I think this is the start of something great,” Alex grinned, slapping Bastian’s shoulder with evident warmth.  Bastian smiled down at his handwriting, capping the pen idly.

“The line is ‘the start of something beautiful’ but I guess that doesn’t apply to your ugly mug.”

“Oi, watch that lip,” Alex warned, still smiling widely, pointing a finger at Bastian’s face.  “Save some of that for the listeners.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve got lots where that came from,” Bastian joked, dropping the pen and picking up the contract.  “Do I get a copy of this or is it the hands of the gods now?”

“Yeah, let me make you a copy right quick,” Alex agreed, taking the pages away.  “Go find some Cokes or something to toast with.”

“Gotta make it official,” Bastian nodded.  “Where’s the break room in this place?”

“Haven’t found it yet, but there’s a vending machine ‘round to the left,” Alex said over his shoulder, heading out of the small, mostly empty office.  Bastian shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around at the filing cabinet in the corner, the black wheel-y chair behind the white plexiglass desk, the small window overlooking a parking lot.  He took out his phone, swiping to open his camera, and clicking a quick picture of the tight space.  He selected a contact and sent it with a quick caption.

Never thought I’d have an office

He didn’t even have a chance to put his phone away before it buzzed with an incoming text.

Iolo:

Welcome to the big leagues, champ

Bastian smiled brightly down at the screen before mentally shaking himself and heading out of the room, turning left, and starting off around the newly renovated station.  Why were radio studios always set up like a maze?

**Saturday**

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way,” Poe mentioned, left hand in the front pocket of his jeans, an empty paper take-away Starbucks cup in his right.

“No worries,” Bastian said before sipping his frappuccino through the dark green straw.  “Promise me coffee and I’m pretty easy.  Plus, I’ve never gone coaster shopping and I can’t pass up that kind of opportunity.”

“I feel like I should warn Lo that a guy with coffee could lure you into an unmarked van,” Poe mumbled, tossing his empty cup in a trashcan at the corner before crossing, Bastian following and rolling his eyes.

“I was six and I wasn’t getting the damn ice cream truck,” Bastian protested with clear exasperation.  “You’re as bad as Diego and Valeria, I swear to God.”

“Who are they?”

“My older cousins who left me at that park in the first place,” Bastian grumbled.  “Twenty years later and they’re still bring it up.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Poe explained, knocking his elbow against Bastian’s arm.  The younger man shot him a quick, easy smile in acceptance before taking another sip of his drink.  Poe glanced around the street, reminding himself of the reason they’re wandering around Old Town to begin with.  “What about that shop,” he asked, pointing across the street.

Bastian squinted over and hummed.  “Pastels, paisley, and monogrammed pillows in the window?  Looks like a good bet.  Let’s check it out.  You know,” he continued as they doubled back to the corner and waited for the walk signal, “coasters, dude.  Big step.”

“Did he make you get some,” Poe asked, instantly snorting at the bland look Bastian trained on him.

“No, but we also never had sex.  Boundaries, ya know?”

“Christ,” Poe chuckled, stepping off the curb.  “Is that how this works?”

“Well, he used to hint at water rings or whatever,” Bastian shrugged.  “And I told him the crates were free and the table had seen worse so just put the glass down and chill.”  Poe burst out laughing at that, and Bastian grinned.  “He’s a bit high-strung.”

“Well,” Poe allowed with a small shrug as they approached the small shop, “it’s not that bad.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying—hold on,” Bastian paused, catching Poe’s arm and nodding at a sign propped up in the front window.  “ ‘No food or drinks.’  Go ahead, I’ll meet ya in a sec.”

“I can wait,” Poe offered but Bastian just shook his head.

“I don’t need you to witness my brain freeze.  Go on, and don’t make any life-changing coaster decisions without me,” the younger man said with a wink before stepping to the side.  Poe hesitated another second before deciding Bastian probably wasn’t going to make a run for it, and he headed inside, pulling open the door and smiling at the accompanying tinkle of bells that followed.

“Good afternoon, sir,” a cheery young woman with a ponytail chimed from behind the counter.  “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Just looking around, thanks,” Poe replied with a smile and then turned around to give a bit too much attention to the display of lemongrass-scented candles.  The saleswoman got the picture and didn’t say anything else while Poe inched his way around the cramped store, noting the set of five blue and white coasters tied with rattan ribbons that were on the bottom shelf next to novelty napkins.  He was passing rotating display of dainty earrings when he heard the bells clang again and peered around to see Bastian mosey into the shop.

“Hello, sir,” the saleswoman greeted, sounding a lot friendlier than Poe remembered.  Bastian turned to smile in response and the woman leaned forward, her palms against the counter and a genuine smile on her face.  “My name is Gina.  How can I help you today?”

Poe didn’t know what happened next.  One second Bastian was about to respond to the obvious flirtation, most likely with a kind brushoff (he seemed like that kind of guy), and the next second Poe heard his own voice saying, “What do you think of these, petal?”

Poe was positive he looked more shocked than Bastian, who caught the older man’s eye with just a hint of curiosity while Gina straightened up and went back to arranging floral magnets at the counter.  “Found some you like already, gum drop,” Bastian asked easily, strolling over to Poe, who wished the floor would swallow him.

“I’m so--,” Poe started as soon as Bastian drew closer, but Bastian gave a small shake of the head and squeezed Poe’s bicep lightly.

“Might as well finish the scene,” the younger man whispered, his eyes crinkled in clear amusement.  “So, where are these mind-blowing coasters?”

Poe had never bought something so quick in his life.  He practically threw his money at Gina, who looked between the two men before ringing up the coasters.

“Are you enjoying your day,” she asked, not unkindly as she counted out the change.  Poe swallowed drily, silently cursing himself for making this mess, but Bastian seemed almost too comfortable as he cocked his arm on Poe’s shoulder and leaned a bit of weight casually into the older man.

“It’s beautiful out.  And this one,” he continued, tilting his head at Poe, who tried to smile, “didn’t want me to stay in all day.”

“That’s cute,” Gina told Poe, handing over the change and the small brown paper bag with the name of the store stenciled in white of the front.

“It would be if his hedgehog hadn’t kept me up all night,” Bastian sighed, sounding too convincing and Poe wondered if he had had this conversation before, somehow.

“Well, hedgehogs are nocturnal,” Poe mentioned, dropping the loose change into the tips dish and folding the bills into his wallet.

“Which is why Herman’s cage shouldn’t be in your bedroom,” Bastian shrugged.  “Can we get lunch now that your coaster craving has been satisfied?”

“Yeah,” Poe agreed, thanking God there was finally a question he could answer without feeling like his brain was in a blender.  Bastian beamed and headed for the door, Poe turning to follow when he felt a light tap on his wrist.  “Uh,” Poe started, squinting at Gina.

“I can see why you call him ‘petal,’” she murmured confidentially while Bastian held the door open, waiting.

Poe bit back the urge to say ‘that makes one of us’ and went with, “Thanks.  Have a good day.”

“You too.”

“Bye, Gina,” Bastian called back into the store as Poe stumbled out.  “Petal,” he directed at Poe with a smirk.

“Gum drop,” Poe shot back before starting down the street, Bastian taking bouncing steps to catch up.

“I’ll have you know my improv skills are on point,” Bastian said, sounding proud and Poe raised an eyebrow in response.  “I mean, I haven’t done much recently but back in college Jamie always--,” Bastian broke off, ducking his head as Poe’s jaw dropped.  “I mean, everyone said I was pretty good.  Was in all these improv clubs and—stuff.”

“I—I didn’t know you were into acting,” Poe settled on, deciding that was the safer option to go with.

Bastian sagged in relief, flashing a thankful smile his way.  “Yeah, it was kinda my thing as a kid.  I never got into sports and I couldn’t sit still long enough to learn an instrument.  Then Micah was going to Georgia for college and he needed somewhere for me to go after school--,” Poe’s steps stuttered at that, “—and so he signed me up for this acting class for kids and I was hooked.  It was like, everything I used to get in trouble for was suddenly okay.”

Poe waited for the younger man to continue but Bastian seemed content to leave it at that, his eyes scanning around the block.  “Like what?”

“Huh,” Bastian frowned and blinked at Poe.

“What sort of things did you use to get in trouble for,” Poe asked, remembering something Iolo had mentioned about how Bastian sometimes cut off stories, needed to be prompted to continue.  Iolo thought it was a little quirk; Poe had a feeling it wasn’t.

“Oh.  Like, I pretended a lot.  I had a whole cast of imaginary friends.  And I had this weird phase when I pretended I was invisible.  For three days I thought it had worked—like maybe I was a wizard or something because I’d walk around the house, eating cookies I wasn’t supposed to and drinking juice boxes on the couch which was against the rules.  And no one said anything!  I was convinced, ya know?”

“Were your parents just waiting for you to get sick and learn your lesson,” Poe asked, remembering that had been one his mother’s preferred techniques.

Bastian chuckled and shook his head.  “Turned out my father didn’t even know I was in the house.  Micah had gone away for the long weekend and he thought Micah had taken me along.  I think they fought about that,” Bastian mused, not noticing the look of horrified concern on Poe’s face.  “I didn’t get sick, but Micah was still pissed.  I hid up the tree for a while until Micah told me to come in.  They apologized and everything, but I was just sad that I wasn’t actually a wizard, ya know?”

Poe blinked once, twice, thrice.  “Okay,” he drew out finally.

“Are you wired for sound or should I give you a minute to text that to Lo,” Bastian asked lightly, glancing over at Poe with a knowing smile that had Poe sighing and rolling his eyes.

“If I was wired for sound we would’ve already gotten a call about that stunt we pulled in the store.”

“Eh, I doubt it,” Bastian shrugged thoughtfully.  “You two never pretended to be dating to shake someone off?”    

“Probably in college,” Poe allowed.  “And it probably didn’t work.”

“Anyway, he’s busy setting up that surprise party,” Bastian said brightly, bursting out in laughter as Poe froze mid-step, face blanched.  “Oh come on!  You knew I knew.”

“Finn said you had no clue,” Poe accused, and Bastian shook his head, leaning his back against the streetlight post at the corner and smirking.

“Finn is either concussed or distracted,” Bastian stated.  “Coaster shopping?  That was the best you guys could come up with?”

“It’s true,” Poe protested, holding up the bag and shaking it in emphasis.

“And then it’s you,” Bastian continued, waving his hand up and down, taking in Poe’s person.  “We never meet up outside of the studio without Finn.  Of course you asking to hang out would be suspicious!”

“We could change that.”

Bastian blinked.  “I mean, um—it wasn’t a complaint, dude.  Just because you’re dating my friend and I’m dating yours doesn’t mean we have to go on outings.”

“So, are you saying you don’t want to hang out with me,” Poe raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

Bastian mulled that over.  “Charming professors who have their lives together aren’t my usual crowd,” he pointed out hesitantly.

“Me neither.  Where did you find one of those,” Poe joked, tilting his head to the side.  Bastian snorted lightly.  “Look,” Poe sighed, taking a small step closer to the younger man, “it’s kinda awkward for me.  I’ve known you for over a year and we never really got to know each other.”

“Well, I was doing some pretty serious behind the scenes meddling to get you and Finn together--,”

“—by setting him up with some creepy report,” Poe finished flatly.

“I was getting desperate and getting you jealous was the last resort,” Bastian admitted sheepishly.  “And Rey thought it was a good idea too, so.”

“I was so pissed at you,” Poe replied, smiling slightly at the memory. 

“Yeah, and instead of channeling that and kissing Finn stupid,” Bastian shot back, poking the older man in the chest, “you called me, making me think Finn got killed or something.”

“You brought that on yourself.”

“I mean, yeah,” Bastian frowned down at his shoes.  “But seriously, Paul has no game and he’s pretty mediocre all around.  I knew Finn wouldn’t go for more than a drink with the guy, and by then you might find some confidence to ask him out.”

“A regular early-two thousands movie plot,” Poe teased and Bastian scowled.

“You two are amazing together and you weren’t going for it,” Bastian countered heatedly, glaring slightly.  “And you’re a freakin’ relationship expert!”

“You’re right.”

“And then—wait, what,” Bastian broke off, surprised.

“You’re right,” Poe nodded.  “I was scared.  Straight up.  I was scared and I could’ve lost my chance.  And I don’t agree with that jealousy approach you tried, but--,” Poe continued, holding up a hand when Bastian opened his mouth, “you’ve been fighting my corner without me knowing it for months.”

“I mean, it was more for Finn but--,”

“So how about this,” Poe proposed, reaching out and up to squeeze Bastian’s shoulder.  “Lunch is on me, as a thank you, and then we find some way to kill the next three hours before the surprise party you don’t know about.”

Bastian barked out a surprised laugh at that.  “Well, I never turn down free food--,”

“Yeah, I remember,” Poe teased, moving his hand from the younger man’s shoulder to tap him lightly on the cheek.  “It’s a deal then?”

Bastian itched the side of his nose before offering a small shrug.  “Yeah, okay, sure.  But if you bring up a threesome again, gum drop, I’m setting Lo on ya.”

“Oh God, please don’t,” Poe winced, taking out his phone.  “I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you put on Iolo, but he turns into an avenging fury for you.”

“What,” Bastian blinked.

“Never mind—what are your feelings on eggrolls?”

“Love em, what was that about Iolo,” Bastian answered in one breath.  Poe inhaled through his nose, glancing up at the blatantly bemused face watching him, and smiled.

“Seriously, it’s nothing.  Iolo’s got a protective streak a mile wide and that includes you now.  Google says it’s about a mile walk.”

*****

“I’m not hiding under the table,” Snap stated flatly and then flinched back as Rey and Karé rounded on him with identical glares.

“Get under the table,” Karé ordered, pointing, and Snap wavered, glancing uncertainly at the cramped space under the Finn’s kitchen table.

“No one has to hide,” Finn announced, closing the door to his bedroom with Zuri on the other side.  She hated people on a good night, never mind when drinking was involved.  “The surprise is that all of you are here.  We don’t need to add jump scares to it.”

“Buzzkill,” Jess muttered, emerging from behind the curtains and making her way over to the couch to join Iolo, who looked up from his phone to offer a smirk. 

“I remember one time in Nicaragua,” Luke said from the kitchen and Finn rolled his eyes, “the welcoming committee of this remote village decided to surprise us and--,”

“Dad, that’s called an ambush and also, not applicable.”

“There was gallo pinto,” Luke mumbled as Kes clapped him on the shoulder.  “What kind of ambush is that?”

“Ignore him,” Kes said softly.  “He’s jealous.” 

Luke snorted, winking up at the taller man as Finn pretended to not hear them.  “Okay, Poe just texted.  They’re on their way up, so no talking.”

Rey made an exaggerated show of locking her lips together as she moved to sit on the arm of the couch, facing the apartment door.  Snap and Karé shrugged to each other before settling down at the table, Snap sweeping a chip through the fresh salsa and stuffing it in his mouth.  At the crunch, Finn shot Snap an exasperated look which Snap responded to with his middle finger.  Then there were three quick knocks on the door, and everyone’s attention shot in its direction.

“Hurry up, babe!  I hate missing the previews,” Bastian called through the door, and Finn could just picture him on the doormat, shifting his weight impatiently.

“I’m putting on my shoes,” Finn called back.  “Just come in for a second.”

“No,” Bastian answered, and Iolo shot an alarmed look Finn’s way.  Finn’s hand went to his ear and started to scratch nervously because this was supposed to be the easy part…  “Ow!  Back off, gum drop, I was joking!”

“What,” Finn started but the door was swinging open and Rey was shouting ‘surprise’ and Bastian’s eyes went wide before jerking back in shock, right into Poe’s chest.

“Holy shit,” Bastian breathed, one hand moving up to grab at his heart as Finn burst out laughing and Rey jumped off the sofa, Iolo slowly getting to his feet with an easy smile.

“It’s your ‘Congratulations on Your New Job’ party,” Rey said, pulling Bastian into the apartment by the arm, Karé and Snap toasting with their glasses from their spot at the table.  “We even got a cake!”

“My—oh my God,” Bastian gasped out a chuckle, letting himself get dragged until Iolo got closer and then he dug in his heels.  “Did you--,”

“Finn’s idea,” Iolo supplied, settling his hands over the younger man’s hips and leaning in to press a light peck on Bastian’s lips.  “And I want no credit for the damn cake.”

“What’s wrong with the cake,” Bastian frowned as Rey continued to tug on his arm.  “Rey, hold on, I’m--,”

“Shots,” Rey said by explanation, cocking her head towards the kitchen.  Bastian blinked, looked up, and his jaw dropped.

“What are you—Rey, I can’t do shots when there are parents present!”

“I will do two,” Kes offered.

“You’ll do one,” Poe corrected firmly as Bastian looked between the father and son in complete befuddlement.  Poe rolled his eyes, knocking Bastian’s shoulder with his own.  “Go on—my dad’s seen worse.”

Iolo watched as Bastian finally let himself get led into the kitchen, where Kes was setting up shot glasses in a line with too much ease and Finn was inspecting two tall bottles of liquor, internally debating.  “So how long did he know,” Iolo asked Poe quietly as Jess sidled up to the kitchen bar.

“Most of this week, I think,” Poe answered, smirking.  “He oversold the shock factor a bit.”

“Convinced Rey and Finn, and that’s all that matters,” Iolo shrugged as Finn made his choice and uncorked the bottle of rum.  Iolo nodded slightly in approval—Bastian liked rum.

“He used to be into acting,” Poe mentioned, nudging Iolo towards the sofa and the two moseyed over.

“Yeah, I know,” Iolo smiled as Poe raised an eyebrow.  “That’s what he does down at the Y.  He volunteers with the drama program, helping kids learn lines and paint sets and all that adorable shit.”

Poe whistled low between his teeth as there was a collective tap of glass on marble behind the two.  “You know, Bastian might not be real.”

“I think that about once a day,” Iolo admitted with a small shake of the head.  “Did you two have a nice day out?”

“It was alright,” Poe shrugged.  “I got weirdly territorial when a cashier tried flirting with him.”  Iolo tossed back his head, laughing, eyes squeezed shut.  “Shut up,” Poe grumbled, glancing over his shoulder in time to see Bastian and Kes take what was definitely their second shot.

“Please—please tell me that poor cashier bought it,” Iolo panted, grinning.  Poe rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply with snark, but then Bastian plopped down on Iolo’s other side and instantly distracted the strawberry-blond man.  “Feeling good?”

“Only had two,” Bastian responded quickly with wide eyes.  “I’m not even fuzzy yet!”

“I believe you,” Iolo reassured, slinging an arm over the back of the couch as Bastian, as if it was second nature already, slid into the older man’s side.  Bastian shot a quick look at Poe before refocusing on Iolo and Iolo said, “Get lost, Poe,” without looking.

“Ouch.  Thanks, bud,” Poe scowled without any anger, pushing himself to his feet.  “I’ll leave you love birds alone.”

“Like you can talk,” Bastian laughed, poking Poe’s thigh as the older man walked by.  “If I was your tech for one more show I would’ve died from secondhand flirting exposure.”

“Whatever, petal,” Poe grunted, walking away to join Finn and Rey, who were sitting on the counter, talking a mile a minute with Jess.

“Do I want to know,” Iolo asked, tilting his head after Poe, and Bastian shrugged carelessly.

“He calls me ‘petal,’ I call him ‘gum drop.’  It pisses both of us off but it’s like a game of chicken, ya know?”

“Sure,” Iolo agreed lightly, stroking the pads of his fingers against the back of Bastian’s neck and watching as Bastian’s eyes fluttered closed with a small, sweet smile.  “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Who said I wanted--,”

“Sorry, did you want me to play oblivious until you worked up the nerve to tell me whatever you’re thinking about, and then acted all surprised when you ask to talk to me?”

“Well…yeah,” Bastian blinked.  “Where’s the awkward tension here?  We’re doing this all wrong, man!”

“Excuse you, we’re doing this great,” Iolo drawled, wagging his finger around Bastian’s face and the younger man batted it away like a cat.

“Are you doing anything in three weeks,” Bastian blurted out, swinging his legs across Iolo’s lap.

Iolo frowned thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against Bastian’s leg.  “Nothing comes to mind.  I’ve got a deadline the week before so it should be open.  What’s happening in three weeks?”

“Well, I’ve got this—tradition, I guess?  I go on a bit of a road trip every year.  Well, road trip is kinda generous…  Basically I go down to North Carolina every August and—do you want to come with me?”

Iolo’s eyebrows rose up his forehead, and Bastian watched him nervously.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’d love to go with you.  Is it a you-and-Finn thing usually?”

“Um, actually, I always go alone,” Bastian answered, glancing down at his fingers that were twisting together.  Iolo dropped his free hand to cover both of Bastian’s, and the younger man looked up.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Iolo said carefully, wondering why the flash of relief on Bastian’s face didn’t reassure him but pushed the thought aside.

“Great!  Um, I’ll rent the car and all that but we can--,”

“We’ll take mine.”

“Yeah, no, we can’t,” Bastian grimaced with shame.  “I can’t drive a stick and there’s no way you’re driving all eight hours.”

“You can’t—wait, you offered to drive my car before,” Iolo accused, eyes going wide.

“And thank God you didn’t let me,” Bastian shot back.  The two stared at each other—Iolo in horror and Bastian in amusement, before Iolo sighed, shaking his head.

“Okay.  Okay, we’ll sort it out.  Maybe we can do a car swap with Poe or something.  Not important right now,” Iolo decided.  “What’s important is that I’d love to go with you and now you should go enjoy your party.”

Bastian smiled brightly at that.  “Yeah, I wanted to ask before I got actually drunk and you stopped believing the stuff I was saying.”

“O-kay,” Iolo drew out uncertainly.

“Wanna do a shot with me,” Bastian continued brightly.

“Shots stop being cute when you hit thirty,” Iolo said gently.  “I’m also the DD tonight.”

“For everyone,” Bastian asked surprised.

“For you.  Fuck everyone else.”

Bastian laughed loudly, drawing Iolo into a slightly cramped side-hug before maneuvering himself to his feet.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  PS, I’m a cuddly drunk so watch out for that.”

“Well, there’s no need to tease,” Iolo joked, smacking the back of his hand against Bastian’s hip as the younger man wandered off, but not before sending a wink over his shoulder at Iolo.

Bastian made it as far as the barstools before Snap grabbed him into a tight, back-bending hug, Karé rubbing Bastian’s head with a big smile.  Rey and Luke were conversing in the corner, Luke with a glass of red wine in his hand and Rey with a bottle of IPA.  Jess and Kes were catching up, each with an empty shot glass idly in their hands.  And Iolo smiled as Finn and Poe flopped down on either side of him.

“He’s happy,” Poe asked.

“He is,” Iolo nodded.

“We’re good, right,” Finn asked, eyeing Iolo, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.  We’re all good.”