Chapter Three

 

 

 

Carter just smiles and rests a hand on the small of Scott’s back, warm even through his jacket, guiding him up toward the front door. Scott leans against Carter, just a little, just to prove a point to himself.

“Nothing’s changed,” he says under his breath as Carter lets them into the house.

“Hmm?” Carter asks, raising an eyebrow. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. I’m thirsty. Let’s get some drinks,” Scott replies brightly, leaving Carter’s gentle touch and heading for the kitchen. He opens the fridge and digs around until he finds a couple cans of diet Coke, way in the back, and when he turns around again Carter’s got a mostly-full glass bottle in his hands. Scott grins. “Perfect.”

He mixes with the ease of long practice, and if he goes a little heavy on the rum, well...Carter just got dumped. If there was ever a time for a strong drink, it’s now.

He watches as Carter takes a sip, the pink of his lips against the smoothness of the glass, and a dozen sense memories assault him at once, summer kisses that tasted like salt and sweat and heat, that left glitter behind.

Carter purses his lips for a second. “Whoa,” he says, then laughs. “You trying to get me drunk, Scott Joe?”

“Sorry, I just - ”

“I guess I was a few drinks behind you anyway,” Carter continues, as if Scott hadn’t said anything. “Come on, let’s go out back. It’s too nice to stay inside tonight.”

Carter’s view is amazing, especially at night, and Scott can’t take his eyes away from the lights of the city as they settle into the soft cushions of Carter’s deck furniture. Carter sits in an upright chair, while Scott stretches out, trying to take up as much of the lounge chair as he can. They drink in silence for a little while, just enjoying the night and the coolness and the relative quiet.

When Scott glances over at Carter again, though, his mouth is turned down at the corners, and his eyes are vague, lost in thought. Carter’s always doing that, always thinking too much, and Scott says the first thing he can think of to distract him.

“Remember that one time on that first tour, when we got drunk in that hot tub?”

It startles a laugh out of Carter, and Scott flushes with pride. “I’m not going swimming with you tonight. This pool is fucking freezing.”

“What, you wussing out on me, Saint?”

Carter kicks Scott’s chair, nudging it a few inches. “I should just dump you in, clothes and all.”

Scott grins and stretches his arms wide, sloshing a bit of his drink onto his knuckles. He licks it off. “You wouldn’t.”

“Sure I would. I’d get wet Scott out of it. Fuck yeah, I would.” Scott watches him take a long sip, his throat working as he swallows, and Scott’s smile softens. “You’d come out looking like a drowned kitten.” He pauses, sighing, then one of Carter’s hands goes to his head, brushing back roughly through his hair. “I don’t even remember the name of the guy I was with that night.”

He sounds regretful, and Scott bites his lip. “It was tour, man. It’s different. I don’t remember half the chicks I...” He doesn’t feel like finishing the sentence, so he just trails off into silence again.

“God, I can’t believe the next one starts so soon. What, three months until rehearsals? And what then, I’m supposed to go back to fucking fanboys?”

Scott doesn’t even think, just says what’s been at the tip of his tongue all night. Longer. “You’re not...you can have anyone you want, Carter. You can do better than fanboys.”

“Apparently I can’t,” Carter mutters bitterly. “At least they wanted to be there, you know?”

“Did Alex...” Scott trails off again, wondering for a second if he’s prying. “I mean, did he not like it? The... you know. Sex?”

Carter sighs noisily and turns sideways in his chair to face Scott, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s not what I meant. He just didn’t want to be with me.” When Carter raises his head, Scott sees a streak of wetness on his cheek. His stomach twists into a tight knot.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, setting his drink on the ground with a dull thunk. He reaches for Carter with both hands. “Carter, come on. Come here.”

Carter leaves his own drink on the arm of his chair and comes to fall next to Scott in a graceless slump, his head down and his breath shaking, and Scott’s there in a second, wrapping himself around Carter as tight as he can.

Carter mutters something too softly for Scott to hear, and Scott has to ask him to say it again. He takes a deep breath and gives it another try. “You don’t have to do this. Be here. I’m totally depressing right now.”

“Actually, I really kind of do have to be here. I mean, I want to be. That first tour...don’t you remember? All the shit I went through that summer, with...with my dad and everything. You were there for me every fucking night.”

Carter sniffs and wipes roughly at his eyes. “Just returning the favor then, huh?”

Scott sits up and waits until Carter turns to look at him, and he gives Carter his most serious stare. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here. With you.”

Carter’s face kind of crumples, and he’s crying again, and he grabs onto Scott and pulls him back down and close. “I’ve fuckin’ missed you, Scott.” His face is wet against Scott’s cheek, and his arms are wrapped around Scott’s body so tight it almost hurts. Scott lets his hands come up and fist in Carter’s hair, pulling him in, and it feels good to have something to hang on to, something tangible, especially when Carter tilts his head and closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Scott’s.