Two missed calls.

Oscar’s heart dropped when he saw Roman’s name on the phone notification. He couldn’t think what was up, but he didn’t like the sound of more than one.

He flicked the silencing switch on his phone and called Roman’s number as he unlocked his car.

Straight to voicemail.

That was weird. He knew Roman usually kept his phone on, in case work called him. Maybe he was already on the line.

Or maybe we’re going out for drinks with the brothers and I forgot. It was Friday, after all. Even though Roman worked tomorrow night, he could go out, if not drink. But he was sure Roman hadn’t mentioned them getting together this Friday.

He pulled out his phone again as he was about to release the parking brake and sent Falcon a text. Is it a bar night this weekend?

By the time he got to Roman’s driveway—Roman’s car not there, he noticed—the phone held an answer. He frowned.

No, why? Falcon had answered.

He didn’t respond yet, just grabbed his keys and headed inside. It was probably nothing.

Somehow, he sensed Roman’s absence before he saw the note; maybe there was something Roman packed in his case that was missing now. Whatever it was, he glared at the note as though not reading it would change it.

Finally he approached the counter and leaned on it, looking the words over.

“Cocky bastard,” he laughed under his breath, pretending the words hadn’t stung.

Just off to Singapore, like we’re not even a thing. See ya.

Don’t be dramatic, he told himself, shaking his head. It was Roman’s job, after all. He couldn’t very well say no if they needed him. Being called in was part of the job. So were long absences.

Oscar crashed on the couch and pulled one knee up to his chest, hugging it and letting his chin gently thump onto his knee, wrapping his arm around his leg. He had to keep the injured leg loosely straight, or the brace pulled uncomfortably.

After a few moments glumly staring into space, he remembered Falcon’s text and gave him a call back.

“Hey. What’s up?” Falcon asked.

“Nothing. I just couldn’t figure out where Roman was. He got called into work a day early, while I was out.”

“Oh! Shit, you need anything while he’s gone?”

“I wouldn’t mind talking out a crazy idea of mine about this building I just toured after my appointment. But no, I won’t starve,” Oscar told Falcon, an amused smile tugging his lips.

“Mysterious! If you’re sure you’re fine,” Falcon told him. “Physio went well, at least?”

“Yep. The TENS machine is the best part of my week.” Oscar actually wasn’t exaggerating that much, either. The electric currents tingling through his knee soothed the muscle, if only for that brief time. “I’m getting one for home.”

“Oh, awesome. I bet it’d be great for kinky stuff.”

Despite himself, Oscar laughed, uncurling and stretching out. “God, your mind is dirty.”

“Like yours isn’t,” Falcon countered. “I know you.”

Oscar shushed him. “Anyway, he’s still not happy with how fast I’m recovering. The brace is all fine, but I’m supposed to stay off it even more for the next week.”

“Sooo, you do need me to come over and cook?”

Oscar hesitated for a few long moments, then sighed. “If you have to.”

“I’m on it,” Falcon told him. “And you can tell me about your crazy idea while I bring you… Chinese?”

Oscar breathed a sigh. “God, yes. Did I mention I love you?”

“Get in line.” Falcon lowered his voice. “Blane did that, you know, would you feel okay with one of us proposing to the other sometime in the future, the generic opening-the-door talk…”

“Oh, shit. No way.”

“Yeah way. I dunno, maybe he’s planning something for Christmas. Or he’s getting permission for whenever, just in case, and I’ll be waiting three years,” Falcon laughed. “God only knows, with him.”

“And… no, I’m delaying you from getting Chinese, which means I’m keeping Chinese away from me. Come over now so I can interrogate you,” Oscar ordered him. “And eat.”

Falcon laughed. “There’s my Oscar. On my way.”

* * *

“No way.” Falcon covered his mouth, at least, when his jaw dropped midway through a bite of Chinese food.

“I know,” Oscar laughed. “Me, renting a commercial place. Scary.”

Falcon shook his head. “But, wait. Wouldn’t that set back your knee?”

“Well…” Oscar grimaced. “It should recover without much extra support, when I actually rest it.” Falcon’s eyes gleamed, and before he could say it, Oscar cut him off. “I know, I know. You told me so. Roman told me so. The fucking world told me so. And if I’d listened, maybe I’d still…”

He cut himself off and stabbed a chicken piece with his chopsticks, then let his breath out in a quick whoosh and ate it.

“Sorry,” Falcon murmured. “That’s not easy. I have nightmares about what I’ll do if I injure my hands.”

Oscar’s head snapped up as he stared at his best friend. Falcon had never told him that before, but it made perfect sense. “I was always like this. And then it came true, and… I guess the world hasn’t ended, but…”

Nothing matched the feeling under the spotlight on stage, doing exactly what he did in practice, and for fun, and often unconsciously as he walked down the street. Watched by thousands but aware of nobody in particular, only the movements that resonated deep within, baring a piece of his soul…

It was impossible to describe without getting emotional, and he’d had enough of that lately. He just sighed and lifted his shoulders. “I miss it. But you’d make it work. I am, somehow.”

“So, teaching?”

Oscar nodded. He’d floated his plan, and Falcon hadn’t laughed. Him, a teacher? But Falcon just looked thoughtful. “I know. I kind of want to… form a company, too. You know, when I have enough students. Obviously not like, a huge touring company or anything, but my own thing. Maybe with gay dancers. Actually…”

“What?”

“I know it’s the in thing now, reinterpretations, but I want to reinterpret a lot of the classics with gay, trans, queer people. Us.” Oscar leaned in, keenly aware of something stirring in his chest.

He hadn’t felt this since… fuck, since the injury. He was excited. Genuine, deep joy filled him at the possibilities lying in front of him. Maybe he couldn’t star, but he could create the message—reinvent it, even. Give others the chance to tell their stories, not be stuck supporting the same old stories, as many male dancers wound up doing. Lifting pretty ballerinas and looking strong and sensual on stage, like they weren’t wrapping their legs around hunky men’s waists in their off hours.

Falcon beamed at him. “Well, I think you have your answer. You can start locally. Nashville has a bigger population, if you need it. Or move to a big city when you have a name for yourself.”

Oscar surprised himself at his resistance to the idea of moving—after all, he’d spent years basically on the road. But that had been before Roman. It was way too early to plan to leave or stay.

“Maybe,” he settled on for now. “One thing at a time. I like it here. The climate is good for small businesses. More people I know around here, that kind of thing.”

Falcon leaned in. “Man, you looked happy there. I take it back. Wait to heal up so you don’t screw yourself up for life—that’s important. But you have time, if you’re signing a lease. Gives you time to recruit students and advertise, right?”

Oscar relaxed and smiled. With Falcon on board, he could do this. And he had no doubt Roman would support him, when he was home to hear about it.

Before Falcon arrived, he’d sent a quick text to let Roman know that he was fine and had just been out working on a project. The photos he’d attached ought to distract him from asking any questions.

He had a world clock on his phone now with other time zones for Roman’s frequent destinations. He had barely taken off, let alone landed, so Falcon expected a response would take a while.

“It’s a plan,” Oscar found himself nodding. “I don’t even rent an apartment, let alone a studio,” he added with a laugh. “So I might need help with the paperwork.”

“Hey, we know people now,” Falcon told him with a grin. “Guess who just bought property? We’ll help you out.” Oscar tried to push himself to his feet, but Falcon glared and stood up to lean down and hug him instead. “Don’t you dare.”

Oscar laughed into Falcon’s shoulder and hugged him tightly back. “It’s going to be fabulous, darling.”

“Welcome back,” Falcon murmured. “It’s so good to see you.”