Not a good time to talk. I’ll call in an hour?

Oscar nearly jumped when his phone went off with Roman’s ringtone and then showed him the befuddling message first thing in the morning. He’d just poured milk into his breakfast cereal, and the sexts he’d sent Roman last night were the last thing on his mind.

Slowly, with the help of the coffee he’d half-drained, his brain woke up. “Oh, boy.”

Roman had better not be mad at him for leaving the house without talking to him. It hadn’t been the best idea, Oscar would admit, but he hadn’t known Roman might just suddenly disappear to Hong Kong or wherever.

Opting for simplicity for now, he sent a quick text back: Hope everything’s OK. Call me when you can.

Will do. The two-word response didn’t assuage any of his fears.

Too busy staring at his phone and imagining the best way to respond to imaginary verbal attacks by Roman for his sloppiness and carelessness in leaving the house without telling him, Oscar only remembered his cereal after it was soggy. He sighed and started eating it anyway, since he had a goddamn hour to fill.

Then he grabbed his crutches, the stupid fucking things that he’d been prescribed—at a rather unaffordable price, except if he compared it to his long-term health and mobility—and made his way to the couch.

Not being able to pace back and forth as he waited nearly drove him mad, and when the call came in, he answered on the first ring with a sigh of relief.

“Roman. Hey.”

“Hi, hon. How’s it going?” Roman sounded tired. Didn’t they sleep on the flight? When Oscar asked as much, though, Roman just chuckled. “Didn’t get much sleep, no. I had first shift in the coffin.”

“The coffin?” Oscar’s voice squeaked.

Roman laughed, sounding a little more awake now. “Sorry. Sleeping bunks.”

“That’s… creative.” Oscar shook his head. “Anyway. Why was it a bad time? What’s going on?”

Roman’s sigh crackled through the phone, and then he said, “Can we video call?”

“Yeah, of course.” Oscar fiddled with his phone and hit the video camera button, hastily touching his hair as the camera came on.

Roman appeared at about the same time, in an old t-shirt he sometimes wore to bed and propped up against what looked like a hotel headboard. “Hey there. You’re looking perky.”

Oscar raised the coffee mug into the frame. “I thought about bringing the coffee pot over here so I don’t have to get up and use my crutches—they’re making me use them this week, by the way.”

“Shit,” Roman winced. “Because you won’t sit still?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oscar rolled his eyes. “Because I won’t sit still. Says the man in Hong Kong.”

Roman laughed. “Ouch. True. Uh, by the way…” His expression was worried. “Sorry I had to leave so fast.”

“No, it’s work. I get it,” Oscar assured him. “Sorry I wasn’t around.”

“Okay, it’s cool.”

“Cool.” There was an awkward moment as they looked at their phone screens, not quite at each other. Oscar didn’t want to make this a big deal, especially with something else going on. Then, he added, “So, you wanna talk about it, or…?”

“Oh! Yeah. Uh, it’s nothing. Bad day at work.”

Oscar’s chest tightened. When he says that, it could mean an engine caught fire. “Everything fine?”

“Yes. Yeah, fine. Just coworkers.”

Roman seemed like he was dancing around something, so Oscar let it go. Instead, he offered, “Uh, so, I was out because I’ve been touring some studios nearby.”

“Oh.” Roman blinked a few times. “Studios like… dance?”

“That’s the one. I’m still no good with a brush. Falcon’s tried, believe me.”

Roman chuckled. “I bet he has. So, are you going to tell me?”

There was still an awkwardness between them, and Oscar tried not to let it get to him. They hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, after all, and they were now something stupid like twelve hours apart. And through a digital screen? Of course it was weird.

“Well, I thought I’d open my own studio after this has healed up. Teach people. Then start a company, eventually. Long-term plans, but I’ll start small and affordable,” Oscar half-smiled. “At least, affordable as long as I can keep rent down.”

“Right, right. That sounds great. Are you thinking of… a studio with like, a living space? Or staying with me?” Roman looked anxious. “I hope I haven’t made you feel unwelcome. Hardly being home and all.”

“Jesus,” Oscar laughed, rolling his eyes. “If you made me feel any more welcome there’d be a freaking red carpet. Don’t worry, man.”

He could sense the ice breaking between them, and Roman laughed. “Okay. But really, what are you thinking?”

“Well,” Oscar hummed. “I haven’t dated anyone I’ve lived with before.”

“Me neither. Then again, I barely live anywhere, it feels like. Someone may as well use the damn house, you know?”

Oscar nodded, recalling overhearing his end of the conversation about switching to short-hauls. “It’s not the usual way to start dating. But nothing about this has been typical so far.”

Roman chuckled. “I think nothing about us is typical.” He paused, gazing at the camera for a moment, then sighed. “I should tell you. One of my coworkers tried to pick me up today.”

“Oh.” Oscar blinked a few times. “If he’s cute and you don’t invite him home, I don’t care.”

Roman stared. “Wait, what?”

“What do you… I mean… wait, do you want us to be…” Oscar trailed off. They’d only barely agreed to start dating, let alone exclusive. Was this a boyfriend thing? He gulped.

“I, uh,” Roman laughed, rubbing his neck. He was blushing. “I’m cool with that kind of thing, but to be honest, I don’t want anyone else right now. It’s been weird to realize that, but it’s true. And if I’m on short-hauls, I see you nearly every night…”

Oscar tried not to squirm or let on the glow that was building in his chest. “You want to come home to me?”

“Yes.” Roman didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Well, um.” Oscar was blushing too—he could feel his face getting hot. He tried not to look at the picture in the corner of the screen that showed him his own face, because it would only make him blush harder. “Cool. That’s, um, yeah. Aren’t we the awkwardest?”

Roman laughed and rubbed his face. “We are. I’m sorry. All that slickness just… I can’t pretend around you.” It perhaps was the most unguarded thing he’d said, and he seemed to realize it, too. His eyes widened. “I mean, I don’t want to rush you—”

“No,” Oscar interrupted. He was absolutely glowing now, despite his attempt to hide it. “No, I’m glad you’re so into me. It actually feels kind of nice. I don’t feel so…” he trailed off, searching for a word. Broken wasn’t it, but it was close. “Ineffectual? I don’t know. When you have this one job and it’s what you’ve trained all your life for, and then it’s just gone…”

“A lot of pilots who get disability, get in accidents, get fired for whatever reason… it’s like that for them, too,” Roman assured him, his voice somber. “I understand. It hasn’t happened to me, but buddies of mine, yeah. Most pilots are straight outta high school, no kind of career prospects otherwise.”

Oscar breathed out quietly and nodded. “That’s why I’m teaching. Not just because I like teaching people—I don’t know if I will yet. I do, from the workshops we’ve led on the road. Full-time? I don’t know. But it’s something. And I feel useless if I sit around doing nothing.”

“See, that’s what I like about you,” Roman said with a small but warm smile. “Even if it bugs the crap out of me that you can’t sit still for a couple weeks, you’ve got a work ethic like nobody else. Well, maybe Blane, but his job is way more nine-to-five.”

“Except when he has kangaroos in the kitchen.”

Roman laughed richly, and the sound made Oscar grin, even coming through the speaker from thousands of miles away. “Lemurs in the living room.”

“Baboons in the bedroom. Wait, I don’t want to think about that…” Oscar wrinkled his nose. He’d walked in on Falcon and some hookup a couple times, which was a couple times too many.

Roman laughed again, even longer this time. When he caught his breath, his cheeks red, he gazed at the phone. “Man, I know it’s awfully early, but I reckon you know already. I really like you, you know? It’s—this—this is nice. Just nice,” he finished, then gave Oscar a pleading look as if begging him not to laugh.

Oscar stifled it to a quiet giggle. “I like you too, baby.” Something was niggling at the corner of his mind, though. “Hon, you know what you said earlier?”

“Which bit?” Roman winked. “The bit about coming home to you? You never answered, really.”

“I’ll keep living with you.” Oscar raised his finger. “Only if you agree to cook me supper sometimes, when you’re home. I like your cooking.”

Roman smiled. “You do? It’s not great.”

“It’s fine,” Oscar told him firmly. “You know all I can do is coffee. But I’m working on it. I stopped by the library and got a cookbook.”

Roman laughed. “No way.”

“Yeah way. I’ll be able to make scrambled eggs by the time you get back.” Oscar winked. “Maybe even toast.”

“Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone,” Roman pled. “I don’t know how my home insurance would take it.”

Oscar mimicked a phone call by holding his thumb to his ear, pinky against his lips. He deepened his voice to imitate Roman. “Yeah, hi, I’m in Singapore, and my live-in boyfriend just burned down the house making toast. Can I start a claim?”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “So, boyfriends?”

“Um.” Oscar cleared his throat and chewed his lip. “If you… I mean, you only want me…”

“I didn’t want to push you into being exclusive, or long-term, before you were ready.” Roman took a breath as if considering whether he should admit it, then plunged ahead. “I’ve been fucking dying to ask you, though.”

Oscar laughed gently. “I won’t judge you for wanting to seal the deal. I am pretty great, some hot guy once told me. Not long ago.”

“Mmm. Will you ditch him to be with me?” Roman winked.

“I’m sleeping in his bed. It could get awkward.” Oscar glanced toward the guest room. “Or actually, his guest room.”

“Take my bed. Keep it warm while I’m gone.” Roman cleared his throat, then added, “I mean, if you want.”

Oscar beamed back at him. “Yeah, I want.” Roman’s eyes were nearly drooping shut, so he added, “Get some rest, baby. You look wiped. Call me in the morning while I’m going to bed.”

“Okay.” Roman kissed his fingers and waved at the camera, and Oscar had to fight the urge to squeal. His heart felt so full it was bursting.

“Miss you.” Oscar cleared his throat and waved.

“Miss you too. Have a good day.”

“Have a good night,” Oscar countered, his finger shaking as he hit the hang up button. He put down his phone and covered his face as his chest tightened and throbbed with joy.

He wants me. He really, actually wants me.

Today was the best day ever, except for one minor detail: Falcon was coming over in an hour to clean and hang out with him, and he’d forgotten to ask if they were going to tell them yet.

“Shit. I’m never gonna make it,” Oscar groaned, closing his eyes as he laughed.

And the text message he got a moment later? It didn’t help matters.

I’m on my way over to make lunch. Don’t you dare move that leg of yours. PS: the brothers are all going out tonight.

Oscar tapped out a text to Roman: If the guys find out, is that OK? But Roman had already gone offline, and it was clear within a couple minutes that he wasn’t coming back.

“I’m fucked.”