Archive of Our Own

To be sure, no one had dared warn the new kid. No one wanted that kind of attention from Nigel, who was bigger and stronger and meaner than most adults, even at eleven. What Nigel wanted, Nigel took, and if that meant the beautiful galaxy shooter in the new kid's marble collection, then at least the focus was off everyone else for a little while.

And it wasn't like Adam used his galaxy shooter in any regular game of Ringers. He brought it to the neighborhood ring to show, because it was lovely and rare and he liked lovely things, and space, and he thought perhaps that someone else might appreciate it as much as he did. And someone did appreciate it as much as he did, but not for the same reasons. And so when Nigel openly admired it, his amber eyes gleaming, no one warned Adam not to take the bet that Nigel proposed, which was (as per usual in Nigel's games) winner take all.

Adam wasn't a competitive person. But he was new, and his father was always encouraging him to make friends. Plus, he was really, really good at Ringers. He even put a few of his finer ducks into the ring, because he was confident that he could win against this burly pack leader. The plan was to win, and then generously offer all of the boy's marbles back to him, in the hopes that they could be friends. With a friend like this, Adam was sure to secure a place in the social structure of the neighborhood, and with only one game.

The plan didn't go as Adam expected. In fact, he didn't even get a chance to play, because when Nigel asked him who was to go first, Adam graciously gave him first knuckle down. No one warned him that this was a terrible idea. Nigel didn't once let his shooter-- a lovely red aggie-- roll past the chalk ring, and within minutes, the ring was clear. And when the larger boy held out his hand for Adam's galaxy shooter, Adam numbly handed it over, with a silent prayer for mercy in his huge blue-green eyes. Nigel gazed on him, imperious and unforgiving, and smirked. "Fucking nice, new kid," was all he said, before he turned around and walked away, taking Adam's precious, irreplaceable galaxy shooter with him.

"My name is Adam," Adam said to their retreating backs. No one turned to acknowledge him. No one dared.

***

Adam lost his appetite for making friends after that. His father couldn't convince him to try again, and after Adam tearfully admitted what had happened to his prize shooter, Adam's father stopped trying to convince him. He knew that tracking down this Nigel boy would just make more trouble for his son, who had difficulty enough with social interaction as it was. So Adam's father didn't press the issue, and Adam spent the summer on his own, riding his bike in seclusion and reading in his room. It wasn't for another month that he even saw Nigel again, and that was under very different circumstances from what either of them would have ever expected.

Adam was riding his bike along a long isolated dirt avenue lined with tall poplar trees. The spicy fragrance of the poplar blossoms filled the air around him, and it was a scent that he had come to associate with safety. The waxy orange and green petals littered the road like a thousand parrot feathers, and Adam kicked them up with his toes as he biked, stirring the heady scent into the warm air.1

A small cry interrupted his solitude, and he perked his head toward the sound. He scanned the area but could see nothing at all but trees and the ditch that bordered the next field, on which corn was already three feet high. Trepidation filled him at the thought that it might be a wounded animal, and he cautiously made his way toward the sound, tipping his bike against a tree as he did so. A blond head came into view as he walked towards the ditch, and then he realized he was looking at Nigel, bowed over his knees, his shirtless back purpled with bruising. He was crying-- that was the sound Adam had heard.

Adam was frozen with fear and indecision. This was Nigel, the merciless pack leader, who had taken something precious from him. But he was hurt, and it wasn't like Adam to turn his back on someone who might need help. His father had always taught him to be kind, and he had also taught that thoughts in your head do not qualify as actions. And so, he thought, kindness is not earned through favors, nor repaid through them. In an instant, Adam decided he did not want to be that person. And so he stepped forward, making enough noise to be heard, and said, "Nigel?"

Nigel did not turn to look at him, but rather turned just enough so that his chin pressed against the front of his shoulder. Adam could now see the bruising over Nigel's prominent cheekbone, and crusted blood under his nose. "What the fuck do you want, space boy?" But his voice was not the powerful thunderclap that usually haunted Adam's thoughts-- this voice was edged with a tremor. Adam climbed carefully down the steep side of the ditch and sat down in the mud next to Nigel. He noticed that Nigel's bike was half submerged in the muddy water of the creek, and that the front fork had been tortuously snapped off. It was lying in the dirt across the ditch, along with the front wheel, as though it had been thrown.

Several possible conversation starters leapt through Adam's mind. Are you hurt? seemed both stupidly obvious and unlikely to receive an adequate response. What happened? seemed that it might require more information than Nigel would be willing to volunteer to a stranger. He decided on, "How can I help you?" because it required more than a yes/no response, and indicated his willingness to be of assistance.

Nigel sniffed and gingerly rubbed at his bloody nose. It was already beginning to swell. "How the fuck do you think a little pissant like you could help?" But rather than angry, Nigel sounded defeated, his voice still thick with tears. Adam felt an unusual swelling in his chest that he did not recognise or know the name for. It wasn't anger, even though Nigel had called him an ugly name. It wasn't fear, because Adam could identify fear with relative ease. It wasn't sadness, or happiness. It just… ached. He shifted minutely closer, and that seemed to ease it somewhat. Nigel was looking out over the ditch at the twisted prongs of his front fork. Adam looked at that as well.

"I can take you home on my bike," he offered. He didn’t actually know if he could balance an injured Nigel, since the boy was twice his size, but he was willing to try. Nigel looked at him then, and Adam was shocked at the size of his black eye. His lip was also split and bleeding. The feeling beneath Adam's ribs grew stronger. Without knowing why, he added, "My dad can fix your bike, if you like."

Now Nigel's eyes were on his. Adam absorbed that the one that was still open was the color of his father's best brandy before he had to look away, nerves taking over conscious function. Nigel sniffed again, and then shook his blond head. "Why the fuck would you do that? I stole your best fucking space marble and you, like, crawled into a hole."

Adam shook his head. "You won it. And I haven't been in a hole. I've just been avoiding you."

Nigel snorted, and then winced. He sounded deeply congested, but Adam knew his nose was blocked up with blood and swollen shut. Adam was no stranger to bloody noses. "I didn't win it fair."

Adam turned to look at him again. "It doesn't matter if the terms weren't fair. I agreed to them." His gaze drifted over the brutal bruising against Nigel's ribs. "I have ice at home."

"Congratulations, space boy. You have ice. That's fucking great." Nigel stared at his hands as he spoke, and Adam noticed that the knuckles were swollen as well. He indicated this with a gentle hand, touching Nigel lightly on the back of the hand. Nigel flinched away, and scowled. "Don't touch me, asshole."

Adam nodded. "I'm sorry. I don’t like to be touched either. I should have asked."

"Too fucking right." Now Nigel sounded exhausted. Adam stood, broadcasting his movements so as not to startle the injured boy.

"Let me take you home."

Nigel's broad shoulders slumped, and he sighed, and then nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Adam grinned. "Okay?"

Nigel stood up slowly and straightened, until he towered a head over Adam. "I fucking said okay, what more do you want, space boy?"

Adam pursed his lips, pleasure undaunted. "My name is Adam."

Nigel shook his head, and his lips quirked upward in a tiny smile. "Yeah, okay, Adam. Take me home."

***

The ride back was not as awkward as Adam thought it might be, for the simple reason that he was the one who ended up on the handlebars. It made sense, since while he was the same age as Nigel, he was much smaller. He was slender where Nigel was broad, short where Nigel was already well into his growth spurt. Muscle flexed under Nigel's shoulders where Adam had only bone and sinew. So it was logical that Adam would ride the handlebars. What surprised him was how gentle Nigel was on the bumps and the ruts. Maybe Nigel didn't want to jar his own injuries, Adam thought, but then Nigel leaned forward and braced Adam's body on a hard bump, a strong hand curling around his upper arm. This happened more than once, so it couldn't be accidental. The feeling under Adam's ribs burned as it expanded.

When Nigel reached his house, he was careful not to tip Adam off as he parked the bike. Adam hopped off easily, and stood holding the handlebars for a long moment as Nigel walked slowly towards his front door. Finally, still not knowing why, he called, "Do you have ice, Nigel?"

Nigel turned to look at him, and his lips turned up on one side. Adam thought it looked like a half of a smile, and if Nigel's face hadn't been swollen and bruised, he would have looked… nice. Soft. "Yes, Spaceboy Adam, I have fucking ice."

Adam nodded. "Good." He paused, but Nigel was still watching him. "Can I help you ice your back?"

If Adam hadn't known better, he would have thought that Nigel looked like he was about to cry again. It was only a moment, but his face twisted up painfully. Nigel looked away, and it was gone. But he nodded. "Yeah, Adam, if you want, I guess." Adam pressed down the kickstand with his toe and propped the bike up. Nigel scowled, and walked to the bike and tapped the kickstand back up again. "Better put it inside. Assholes about." Adam didn't know what he was talking about, but he agreed anyway. They walked inside together-- he, Nigel, and his bike.

Nigel's house was simple and clean. "No one is home. My mom works and my dad's back home on business."

"Where is home?"

"Bucharest." Nigel said it as a challenge, but Adam lit up in a smile.

"In Romania! It’s the capital city."

"No shit, Sherlock." But Nigel was smiling, looking pleased, so Adam didn't correct him about his name. He led the way to the kitchen, which was as simple and clean as the rest of the house. He pointed to the refrigerator. "Ice."

Adam nodded. "And towels?" Nigel pointed to a drawer. "Ok. Can you sit in a chair backwards?" Without replying, Nigel slumped into a low-backed kitchen chair, his arms crossed over the top. Adam opened the freezer and brought out an ice cube tray that was filled and frozen. He took two towels from the drawer and got one wet under the tap. He cracked the ice tray and dumped the cubes onto the dry towel, and then gathered everything up and walked to the table, where Nigel was eyeing him warily. Adam smiled in an attempt to reassure him. "I've been… I've had a lot of bruises and bloody noses, so I know what to do, Nigel. You don’t have to worry." Nigel swallowed, his face contorted for a brief instant, and then nodded.

Adam laid the cold towel across the injured boys ribs and then walked in front and gently wiped at the blood under Nigel's nose and across his split lip. Nigel startled at his touch at first, so Adam moved slowly, making unhurried motions, as if Nigel were a wild animal. Gently, he cleaned Nigel's face, and then got another towel from the drawer and moved some ice into it, holding it against Nigel's eye and nose. After a long, unbroken silence, Nigel took a breath. "I was late with a parcel." He eyed Adam, but Adam didn't understand what he was talking about. Did he take mail to the post office for people? He was about to ask, but Nigel continued on. "Desi sent Anna and Luce to beat the shit out of me, as punishment. And now my bike is wrecked, so I've lost my job for the summer. No money to fix it." He looked down at the floor. "So don't bother your dad, alright, Adam?"

Nigel didn't seem in the mood to argue, so Adam didn't. He wiped at a trickle of blood that had started again while Nigel spoke. Then, hesitantly, he offered, "I don't know those people, Nigel, but they don’t sound very nice. It's not good business to physically damage the people who work for you, just because of a mistake." Nigel snorted, painfully, but didn't disagree. Adam didn't know what else to say, so he just wiped at the blood, and adjusted the ice against Nigel's back, and sat with him until the kitchen had long gone dark.

***

The next morning, when Adam had spent a sleepless night tossing in his bed and thinking about Nigel's predicament, he made a request of his dad at the breakfast table. His dad, surprised, agreed, asking only, "Is this the same boy?" Adam nodded, but wouldn't change his mind. They drove out in his dad's truck after breakfast, and came back with the bike in two pieces. The fork was well beyond saving, but the tire and rim and spokes were undamaged. Adam used his own money-- money he had been saving up to buy a telescope-- to buy a new fork, and his dad soldered it together in his auto shop, until it was as good as new. Adam wasn't able to afford paint, but he hoped Nigel wouldn't mind. A week after he had first found Nigel in the ditch, he had his father drive him and the bike to Nigel's house.

When Adam knocked on the door, there was no answer for a long time. Just as he turned to leave, the lock clicked and Nigel opened the door. His face was yellow and brown with bruising, but he looked better than he had. He smiled at Adam, which made Adam's heart kick against his ribs. "Hey Spaceboy." But his voice was gentle, and Adam could tell that there was no malice behind it. He pointed to his dad's truck.

"I fixed your bike for you."

"What?" Nigel shook his head, scowling now, his cheeks flushed red. "I told you I don’t have the fucking money, Adam."

Adam shook his head. "I did. I paid for it."

Nigel stared at him, and then at the bike propped in the bed of the truck. "Why?" And his voice was so small and his face tensed up again, so Adam ran to the truck and hopped up into the bed. He handed the bike down to Nigel, who had come up behind him.

Adam admitted to himself that it was ugly. He blushed. "I couldn't afford paint."

"Why did you do this?" Nigel was staring at him again. "Why would you do this?"

Adam didn’t have a logical answer. He shrugged. "I didn't like the feeling I got when I saw you like that. That shouldn't happen to anyone. It made me feel sick. So I fixed it."

Nigel swallowed. "I can't pay you back."

"I don't want you to."

"I don’t like being in debt."

"You aren't."

Nigel grimaced, exasperated. "You can't just make a debt go away like that, Adam."

Adam furrowed his brow. He glanced at his dad in the cab of the truck, who nodded at him, but didn’t offer a solution. Adam thought hard, realizing for the first time in his life that a relationship he wanted to succeed was in danger, not from lack of kindness, but from too much of it. Nigel watched him pensively, hand propping up the bike but not taking possession of it. Finally, Adam thought he might have a solution. He took a deep breath. "Then I ask, in exchange, a favor in the future, which I consider equal value to fixing the bike."

Nigel laughed out a breath. "That you consider?"

Adam nodded solemnly. "I'll ask you for something, and you have to provide it."

"You aren't going to ask me to kill someone, are you?"

"Nigel, that would not be an equal trade."

Nigel grinned and shook his head. "Alright, Adam." He held out his hand, and they shook on it.

***

"Alright, Adam?" Nigel was smiling from the porch as Adam tipped his bike into the yard, in a patch of grass that had been worn right down to dirt with his tire print. Adam grinned at him, feeling pleasure in seeing him deep in his chest, even though they had seen each other only the day before. Adam had spent more time here than at his own home in the past five years of their friendship, and Nigel's home was as familiar to him as his own bedroom. He had even slept here on occasion. He remembered the first time it had happened, falling asleep after a late night of playing Atari games and waking warm in bed next to Nigel in the morning, curled up and surrounded by the larger boy, who was holding him with one long arm around his shoulders. The warm feeling behind his ribs was ever-present, blooming large with every smile and touch until he thought his body could not be big enough to hold it. After such a long time analyzing it, Adam thought he might know what it was, and it filled him with a confusing mix of anxiety and desire, of wanting to know, whatever the cost, if Nigel had the same heat blooming within him.

He had been thinking about this for nearly a year, ever since he had woken in Nigel's bed and found him watching, his sweaty hand on the thin sleep pants half-covering Adam's slender hip, eyes focused on Adam's mouth. Nigel had pulled his hand away abruptly, and had climbed out of bed and hadn't mentioned it at all, and so Adam had been quelled, knowing Nigel as well as he did. And he did know Nigel well-- he knew Nigel better than anyone except for his own father. Maybe even better than his own father, because Nigel never held back with Adam. Just that one soft morning.

Now he had a reason to ask for the favor. The Favor. The one that had set between them for five years, never called in, frequently mentioned. Nigel never let him forget it, though the bike was long gone as Nigel had landed a legitimate summer job that year and made enough to buy a much nicer bike-- one with gears. Whenever Adam got lost in his head, Nigel would teasingly ask him, "Are you thinking about The Favor?" And Adam would blush and shake his head, even if he had been.

Now he plopped next to Nigel on the orange corduroy couch and without preamble, stated, "Beth asked me to Homecoming."

Nigel's jaw flexed in his side vision, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, gruffly, "Beth that girl whose been trying to get you to notice her since fucking forever?" Adam nodded, blushing. Nigel had pointed her out before, explaining what it meant when a person dropped a book in front of you several times a week. Adam had finally admitted that he believed Nigel, but still had no idea why she had been trying for his attention. She didn't even like their shared astronomy class! Nigel cleared his throat. "Did you say yes?"

Adam shook his head. "Not yet." He paused for effect. "I… I'm embarrassed."

Nigel turned to him, his normally expressive amber eyes oddly blank. "What do you have to be embarrassed about, Adam? She's the lucky one to be seen with you."

This was encouraging, although Adam could not imagine anyone feeling lucky to be seen with him. With Nigel, yes. Absolutely with Nigel. Adam took a deep breath, and then took the plunge. "I… I'm embarrassed that she will want to kiss me."

Nigel's face did something funny, something Adam couldn't parse. "Why would that embarrass you, darling?" Adam smiled-- he couldn't help it, when Nigel called him that. It was ridiculous, how warm it made him under the collar of his shirt. He swallowed to clear the nervous lump from his throat.

"I've never kissed anyone before." He didn't miss that Nigel's eyes flicked to his mouth. This was going well. He swallowed, more nervous than he had ever been. "And I thought that maybe… this could be The Favor."

The intonation-- the meaning of what Adam was asking could not be misconstrued. Nigel swallowed too, either mirroring or with nerves. "You want me to… ask her to kiss you?"

Adam snorted a laugh-- either Nigel was completely clueless or deliberately being obtuse, and knowing Nigel as well as he did, it was likely the latter. "Nigel, I want you to teach me to kiss."

Nigel's throat worked for a moment. "Are you fucking with me, Adam?"

Adam shook his head, solemnly. "I would never invoke The Favor as a joke, Nigel."

Nigel stood very still for a moment, his face going through contortions that, although subtle, Adam found familiar from their long friendship: confusion, dismay, and a blush that could mean anything from anger to embarrassment. Feeling shy and disconcerted, Adam very nearly turned and went right straight out the door, but Nigel reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Yeah." he said, his emotion obscured now by the blank mask he used when he didn't want Adam to know what he was thinking. "Yeah, of course Adam." He cleared his throat. "That's worth at least a bike repair." He smiled, his eyebrows strangely peaked in the middle-- a conflict of emotional signals that Adam could not make sense of. "Maybe two."

Adam nodded. His confidence had failed him. He had thought that Nigel would want the excuse to kiss him-- he had been staring at Adam's mouth for months, and possibly years that Adam had not noticed it. But now it seemed that Adam had misjudged. He swallowed, and allowed himself to be led up the stairs to Nigel's bedroom, because he had invoked The Favor, and now he would have to go through with it. Neither of them spoke, and Adam's heart pounded behind his ribs and in his ears until he thought he might be sick. Once in the familiar bedroom, surrounded by the familiar and welcome smell of Nigel that permeated the air, the clenching of his stomach eased only slightly.

Nigel was still very tense. His smile didn't look happy. But his face slowly gentled when he took in Adam's tense posture. His throat bobbed twice. "Anyone who gets to kiss you is incredibly lucky, Adam," he murmured, and tugged Adam around so that they were facing. The door was closed. The shades were drawn. They were totally alone. Despite his fears, Adam began to experience nervousness of a different kind. Nigel cleared his throat, and then looked into Adam's eyes. "Making eye contact is key," he said gruffly. "I know you don’t enjoy doing that, but you must if you want a person to know that you want to kiss them." He looked steadily into Adam's eyes as he said this, and Adam didn't look away. He wasn't thinking of anyone else. He nodded.

Nigel stepped closer, close enough that Adam could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and catch the scent of his sweat and the cologne he put on that morning-- Adam's favorite. It was called Obsession, and it smelled intoxicating when mixed with Nigel's natural warm amber scent. Adam thought that was a very fitting name for a cologne that brought Nigel to mind no matter what other stranger might be wearing it. They were close now; not close enough to be touching, but there was very little space between them. Nigel lifted his hands and settled them on Adam's neck. "You have to touch the person, Adam. I know you don't like that either, but touching is important."

"I like touching you, Nigel," Adam admitted, and Nigel looked more pained than pleased, and Adam thought perhaps that he had done something irrevocable here-- that he had damaged their friendship permanently with this request. Nigel stroked an unsteady thumb over the side of Adam's throat, and Adam's pulse ratcheted higher, with both anxiety and arousal. A thousand butterflies had taken residence in his belly.

Nigel was looking at his mouth now. "Touching is really fucking important." Adam was committed, regardless of the outcome, and put his hands against Nigel's chest. He had a brief thought that this would not be a good place to put his hands on a girl, but he dismissed it, because he wasn't thinking of touching a girl. His thoughts were consumed by Nigel so close and so distant, both at once.

"Is this alright?" he asked. Nigel pressed his lips together in a tight line, and nodded, and Adam realized that Nigel wasn't thinking about him touching a girl either. He was in an agony of indecision, both wanting this more than anything and feeling like he was losing Nigel with every moment. His chest was on fire with this thought, and Adam knew he couldn't do this. He couldn't kiss Nigel like this. "Wait!" he blurted. Nigel's eyes went wide and hurt, and he stepped back, but Adam stepped into him and reached up to grip his shoulders, to hold him in place, to make him understand. "I don't want to kiss Beth!" he exclaimed, almost desperate to get it out. "I want to kiss you!"

Nigel's mouth dropped open. "What?"

Adam gripped his t-shirt tightly so that he wouldn't go. "I don't want to go with Beth to the dance. I just… I just thought that… the way you look at me, and… but you never did anything about it, and I thought that I could make it easy for you, to pretend, but I can't." His voice pitched higher with the end of every sentence, until he was wailing. "I don't want Beth. I want you, Nigel. I've always wanted you, ever since your bike that summer, and I could never… and now I've ruined it!" His face was twisted up now in anguish as Nigel stood frozen before him, hands hovering in the air, mouth still gaping open. He placed them softly, hesitantly on Adam's cheeks now, stroking fingers through his dark curls, in a familiar gesture of soothing. They were both quiet for a moment, Nigel clearly working out what he should say. Then, he dipped his chin, and looked up at Adam with wide eyes.

"I didn’t know you wanted me," he began hesitantly.

"I know," Adam replied sadly.

"You never said."

"I know." Just a miserable whisper now.

"You want to kiss me?" Nigel's voice was shimmering with disbelief now. Adam nodded, looking up through his eyelashes.

"Since that day you took me home on my handlebars."

Nigel swallowed. "Adam." His eyes were on Adam's mouth now, but the look of open want in his gaze was palpable. "Adam," he repeated, and his voice was gravel now, coming from somewhere deep within. "That was five years ago."

"I'm not… I didn't…" But Nigel shushed him gently with a finger to his lips.

"Do you know when I knew I wanted you?"

Adam looked wildly at him. "You want me?"

Nigel ignored the question, slowly gaining steam. "It was the day you handed me that fucking marble." They both turned to look at the marble , a little dusty, shining on the windowsill from the inch of sunlight that crept in under the blinds. "You handed it over without a single complaint."

"You won it fair," Adam reminded him, sinking into his touch.

"So you tell me." Nigel grinned at him, a genuine smile without any conflicting physical signals, stroking his hair with more confidence. "You never once asked for it back."

Adam smiled shyly back at him. "I wanted you to have it, so that maybe you would think of me when you saw it."

Nigel couldn't hold back a laugh. "Yeah, well, that fucking worked like a charm. I think of you every time I look at it." He sobered, his eyes soft. "And even when I don't look at it, I think of you."

Adam stared at him a long moment, and then whispered, "Please kiss me, Nigel."

Nigel, breathless and disbelieving, inched forward gently, until their chests bumped together. They held there for long moment, letting the certainty of their mutual desire soak in. Without the false pretense, Adam could breathe again, but he found himself short of breath anyway as Nigel leaned into him and pressed their foreheads together. "You could have asked years ago, Adam. Even on that day you pressed ice into my bruises. And I would have, you know. Kissed you. Done anything for you." Adam couldn't answer-- could only voice a tiny moan, and Nigel surrendered and bent to touch his lips to Adam's lips.

The delicate skin dragged soft and dry together, and Nigel breathed a whimper against Adam's mouth. Adam opened for him like a blossom, and then they were kissing for real. Nigel sucked a wet kiss against Adam's upper lip, licking experimentally at the warm inside of his mouth. Adam's hands clenched convulsively in his hair, and then he opened his mouth and sank into Adam, warm and wet and frantic. Adam hazily found himself walked backward until he was being eased down onto the bed, Nigel climbing on top of him, limbs intertwining, and nothing else was like this; nothing had ever felt this good, and Adam held on and kissed and was kissed until there was nothing else in his head but this.

After an afternoon of drowsing shirtless and soft on each other, striped with sunlight through the blinds, Adam stirred against Nigel, lips dragging across his chest thick with curly golden hair. He played with Nigel's nipples for a long moment, enjoying watching Nigel's stomach flex and jump, until Nigel rolled on top of him and pressed him down into the soft mattress with a kiss that felt like being devoured. When they surfaced for air, Adam beamed at him, stroking his hair back behind his ear. Nigel kissed the inside of his wrist. "I don't want to go, now that we have finally gotten here," Nigel admitted. He smiled, earnest. "I want to spend the night with you. I want to spend every night with you, Adam."

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend or are you asking me to marry you?" Adam smiled back, his eyes gentle and his cheeks pink. Nigel ducked his head and blushed.

"I don't know. Boyfriend for now? Both?" He peered hopefully at Adam from under gold eyelashes. Adam pretended to ponder for a moment, a mannerism that he had picked up from Nigel.

"First I need something from you, Nigel."

Nigel's eyes flicked to the galaxy marble and back to Adam's eyes. "Anything."

"Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me?" Absurdly hopeful, as if Nigel would ever say no. Nigel laughed outright.

"What will you tell Beth?" His eyebrows arched playfully.

"I will thank her for the opportunity that led to kissing you, Nigel." Nigel rolled off him, his rich laugh filling the room.

"I'm not so sure she will appreciate that, darling."

Adam grinned at him cheekily, and rolled over to balance on his elbows to kiss his nose, his cheekbones, his forehead. "I don't care." They gazed softly at each other, and then Nigel nodded.

"Yes."

Adam quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, what, Nigel?"

"Yes, I'll be your date for the dance. For one concession?"

Adam smiled, pleased to return Nigel's generosity. "Anything, Nigel."

Nigel waggled his eyebrows. "Let me take you on the handlebars of my bike?"