It was do or die time. Roman’s heart pounded as he strode down the sidewalk to the storefront covered in yellowing newspaper, his best chance at making up tucked under his arm.

He nearly missed the storefront and had to back up a few paces. It didn’t look anything like it had before. The newspaper had been torn down, and there were half a dozen guys on the other side of the window, buffing the inside with cloths.

Roman stopped on the spot, blinking. Then one of the guys spotted the flowers poking out of the bucket under his arm and Roman heard a faint “aww,” followed by all of them—Oscar included—turning to look at him.

Well, there went his element of surprise.

Roman’s cheeks flushed as he stepped up to the door, and Oscar pulled it open before he could even knock. “Uh. Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know there was a party…”

Oscar waved it off, relief written all over his face. “You made it out of the meeting.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell you about that later,” Roman promised, clearing his throat and fishing the bouquet out. “I wanted to, uh, say sorry for being so weird about everything, and ask you to live with me, because—oh, shit, that wasn’t in the right order. I mean, the bouquet is like, you know how people give dancers bouquets on opening nights? Of course you know.”

The guys—all dancers, by the looks of them—were clearly trying to hold in laughter, some more successfully than others.

Even Oscar was biting his lower lip, holding back laughter.

Roman, even more flustered, cleared his throat and thrust the bouquet at his boyfriend. “Will you keep living with me? I like coming home to you, and I don’t want you moving somewhere you’ll probably fall through a hole in the floor and put out your other knee. Shit, that was less than sensitive.”

Oscar was laughing richly now, that warm sound echoing around the empty place. “I love you, you great big loony.” He looped his arms around Roman’s shoulders and squeezed hard enough that Roman couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Roman couldn’t squeeze Oscar that hard in return lest he snap him, but he squished him as tightly as he felt comfortable doing, one-armed. He was still holding the bucket and feeling kind of dumb now.

“And what’s that?” Oscar asked, pointing at the bucket.

Roman lifted it up so he couldn’t look inside. “First you gotta tell me if you’re moving out. And if so, if you want to keep being with me.”

Oscar looked sheepish. “I just assumed you wanted me out of your hair. You… really want me to stay?”

“Duh,” Roman snorted, and Oscar laughed. “I love you, too. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing in a relationship or how to, like, tell you what I’m feeling, but I’m working on it. Maybe I’ll even get the words in the right order sometime.”

Oscar smiled gently. “Then yeah, I wanna keep living with you. Not just because there’s a hole in the floor in that apartment. There’s no appliances. And the bathroom door won’t close.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Jesus. How bad am I if you were considering that?”

“Not that bad,” Oscar laughed. “It’s not weird we only just started to date, though?”

“It’s a little weird we’re saying all of this in front of your friends,” Roman pointed out, unable to resist a smirk. “But I’m fine with keeping going how we are right now.”

Oscar’s cheeks flushed and he jolted like he’d forgotten they were there. He set the flowers down against the window. “Oh, shit. Right. Uh, guys, Roman. My boyfriend.”

One of them, who was staring as if enchanted, covering his mouth with his left hand and sporting an engagement ring, finally lowered his hand. “Yeah, I guessed. Where the hell were you hiding this guy? I’m Matt.”

They introduced themselves in a rush, hurrying over to shake hands and clap Oscar’s back.

“Oooh. Champagne.” It was Matt again, who had also pointed out Roman’s presence outside, peeking in the bucket.

“Jesus, you’re taking all my thunder today,” Roman complained with a laugh.

Matt laughed. “Oops. Sorry. But I’d say you have a little thunder left for your boyfriend,” he gave Roman an up-and-down look and winked. “Especially now that we’ve got the place cleaned up. We’ll just… head out now.”

“Oh, fuck off, you perv,” Oscar told him and cuffed him upside the head.

Roman tried to pretend that hadn’t just given him ideas. There was bound to be a spot out of sight of those windows here, right?

“Anyway, let me show you the apartment,” Oscar added after a moment. “No holes, I promise. In the floor.”

Roman laughed as hard as the rest of them as Oscar sashayed off to the door at the back of the place.

“Good luck with that one,” Matt added, playfully sticking his tongue out. “But no, dude, really. We’re leaving early. We gotta split,” he called out to Oscar, who rushed back for a round of hugs. Roman tried to stay out of the way but found himself the victim of a few hugs and Christmas greetings anyway.

Once they were gone in a whirlwind like—well, like a dance—the energy seemed to linger here anyway. It was happier here.

Or maybe that was just him.

“Did they really leave us alone here to have sex?”

“I think so,” Oscar grinned. “Now, what’s in the bucket?”

Roman handed it over and laughed. “Window cleaner and champagne. I was gonna, like, do the windows for you to say sorry for being dumb and not asking for what I wanted.”

Oscar’s gaze softened. He set down the bucket and looped his arms around Roman’s waist, and Roman slid his arms around Oscar’s shoulders to hold him close. “It’s not just you,” Oscar told him. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. We’ve been over that by now. I just… never thought to ask. I’m not good at asking for help and letting people… be there for me.”

“That’s why you have friends—and a boyfriend—to be there for you, and make sure you get help when you need it,” Roman said firmly. “Like helping renovate this—and shush, I’m not taking no for an answer. On that leg, you’re not doing any heavy construction work, mister.” Before Oscar could argue, he smirked and gave him a distraction. “And to give me some awfully good ideas.”

“Like what?” Oscar asked, his lips quirking into a playful smile as he gave up on the urge he always seemed to have to resist letting anyone else help him out—for now, at least.

“Such as…” Roman drawled, bending over enough to pick up the bottle, “popping this open, and christening the place.”

Oscar giggled, resting his forehead on Roman’s shoulder when he straightened up again. “Sounds perfect,” he murmured. “Not very romantic, though.”

“Anything can be romantic if you’re there, too,” Roman murmured back, kissing the top of his head. “Is it more romantic if I add a blowjob?”

Oscar laughed louder, pulling back and stretching onto tiptoe to press a firm kiss against Roman’s lips. “My self-interest says yes.”

“We have time before we leave to see the guys. Show me this place you were planning to hide from me in.” Roman winked.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Oscar grumbled, pulling away from Roman as he sashayed back to the door. Roman noticed his gait was much more even now, even though the leg of his jeans still bulged with the shape of the brace underneath. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“I’m not letting you go,” Roman added firmly, pulling off the cage of the cork and popping the bottle as he followed. “Tell you what, though. I forgot to get plastic cups. We’ll have to drink straight from the fountain.” He caught Oscar’s eye and licked the foam trickling down the side of the bottle.

Oscar’s cheeks turned red and he nearly fell over himself in his haste to get the apartment door open.

Roman doubled down one more time, his confidence finally returning. Seeing Oscar so flustered made his heart swell with pride and pleasure. “We kind of skipped all the foreplay in this relationship, didn’t we? Well, we’ve got time now. And access,” he raised a brow meaningfully. “That’s a perk of living together, if you needed more convincing. But I’m glad you didn’t. I almost had to do my speech: you can check out, but you can never leave… my heart. Or something. I hadn’t thought that part out, if you did want to leave.”

Oscar grabbed him and hauled him through the door to close it again, making Roman laugh. “Get your ass in here.”

“Someone’s got a load of attitude all stored up for me,” Roman smirked, handing Oscar the bottle and dropping to his knees in the front hallway. Beyond, he saw a glimpse at the apartment, but he had something more interesting in his field of vision.

Oscar squeaked, “You don’t even want to… the kitchen… see the place…?”

“There’s time later,” Roman murmured, pressing his lips against the bulge in Oscar’s pants and backing him up against the wall. “Come on, drink up. I sure as hell plan to.”

Oscar could barely stop giggling long enough to drink from the bottle. His hand rested on Roman’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing in gentle circles that spoke volumes.

And when Roman swallowed Oscar’s hardening shaft in one quick motion, Oscar’s whimper of delight was music to Roman’s ears: the tune that he was now utterly certain could make his heart race and his soul sing forever.