Now
*
"We could always stay in, if you'd rather, as well, Espinosa..."
Angelo fell back against the cushions, hands planted firmly on Pete's exposed skin. Bare skin. Warm skin. He kept his elbows locked, literally keeping Pete at arm's length, as he tried to regain his breath. He finally said ruefully, "I promised myself I wasn't going to do this again."
Pete sat back on his haunches, straddling Angelo's waist. Shirt half-unbuttoned, belt already hanging free of his jeans, Angelo could barely breath just looking at him. Kissing Pete had seemed to suck the air right from his lungs, and the blood from the rest of his body.
Well, almost all of his body.
Pete asked, "Wasn't going to do what?"
Angelo lowered his arms to his sides, and closed his eyes. "Wasn't going to get back into this routine. Not so quickly."
Pete stood up, and straightened his pants out with a savage twist. His voice was defensive. "What routine, kid?"
"The easy way."
Pete picked up his jacket -- leather, and it smelled incredibly sexy -- off the table, and shrugged it on casually. He left the shirt unbuttoned, tucked it back in, and said to the door, "Nothing's really easy when you're around me. Or so I've heard."
Angelo chuckled into the strained atmosphere. He let his eyes roam up and down Pete's body -- hard, thin, strong, wiry, and delicious. He could feel the pull that body had over him, and he fought it, with difficulty. To ward it off, he said pleasantly, "Are you still dating that spy chick?"
Pete's shoulders drooped visibly. "No need to bring her up."
"Was just a question, hombre."
He stood up straight, with difficulty, then pivoted slowly on one heel. His face was a mix of offended and hurt, and the stiffness in his frame attested to it. "Would I be here -- with you -- if I was?"
Angelo raised his eyebrows. "That doesn't mean anything."
Pete bristled immediately, but it wasn't an accusation, and he had to accept that it was true. It didn't mean a thing he was dating someone else -- of course he'd still be here with Angelo. Fidelity wasn't a high point in his life, and never had been. He'd been mostly faithful to Kitty.
And he'd never screwed around on Ange. Not once.
Of course, Angelo didn't know that. Pete said quietly, attempting to hide the hurt, "I never cheated on you, kid. I don't care what you think, I didn't. Not even one little kiss. Not bollocksed, sober, passed out, or otherwise."
Angelo stood up, and kept the comforting bulk of Pete's filthy couch between them. "Didn't say you did. But a little 'hello' kiss ain't nothing." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and immediately Pete saw the pose that had identified Angelo all through their time -- slouched over, closed off face, and on the defensive.
Pete answered, "You still engaged to that lieutennant?"
Angelo pretended to be hurt, pouting and raising a hand to his chest. "Me? We broke it off at least four years ago."
Pete felt the pull of smoke, and lit another cigarette. He mumbled, "You regret it? That was a long-term thing, wasn't it?"
"Nah. Bastard was cheating on me with some enlisted man. The scandal just about cost him his career."
"How come you and him were all just happy-happy?"
"Boy, you sure don't like the army much, do you? We were discreet about it." Angelo shook his head. "And it was a great way to get dates."
Pete laughed bitterly. "God bless the military."
~*~
Then
*
"No, M, quit that. You can't make milk shakes without chocolate syrup!"
The taller girl ignored the wildly flapping hands sailing by her nose, calmly reaching for the blender. "Which of us had experienced the pleasure of a milk shake of true quality, Lee?"
Jubilee huffed, seriously considering using a few paffs to keep her milkshakes away from hazardous influence. "Not the one that wanted to use frozen yougurt instead of ice cream, obviously!"
Monet eyed the shorter girl, and then the chocolate syrup clutched tightly in her hands. "That must be at least two hundred calories per ounce, Jubilation. And I prefer strawberry, anyway."
Jubilee made sure to keep her glass away from Monet. "You would."
<<Y'know, both those foods are aphrodisiacs, gels.>> Jono leaned against the doorframe, and watched the girls bicker with a small smile embedded in his eyes.
Monet didn't even deign to turn around as she said, "And you, Jono, are--"
"That's interesting, actually," the other girl muttered, paying no heed to Monet's raised eyebrow. Then, switching to a *whole* other subject, "Ask Ev if he wants a glass, will ya?"
Jono rolled his eyes so far they almost disappeared into his head. <<Yeah, yeah. An' I'll make sure to know the reason, too.>>
"Fine with me." The smallish girl grinned at him in an impish, glinty-eyed kind of way, and he nearly took a cautious step away.
<<Maybe you'd better tell 'im yourself, gal. I'm gonna look fer Ange.>>
Jubilee looked at him in startlement. "He's back?"
<<Yeah. Just slunk past me a few minutes ago.>> A hand was raised to stop her from doing just the same in thegeneral direction of the guy's dorms. <<If I got the point of all the grumbling, he wants ta be left alone.>>
"Right, but you're gonna look for him. That's very logical, Jono. Lemme through."
<<It's -->> he hesitated. His arm wasn't moving away. <<A guy thing. I think.>>
"He's been gone for the whole day and it's a guy thing?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "You know something you're not telling, Jono. Give."
This time he did dropped his arm, shrugging ineffectually. In her mind was the mental equivelant of a sigh. <<I dunno, Lee. 's just a... hunch.>>
*** "A hunch," she muttered, disgusted, turning back to the blender. "Now they put back the traditional meaning in 'psychic friends'." ***
"Alright already," she said, when a few seconds of neither of them speaking passed. "Go get him. But the minute those milk shakes are done I'm gonna be there too, so you better tell him that." Her voice chased him away as he turned, slowly, and moved to walk up the stairs. "And I'm making his aphrodisiac-free."
He refused to know what that meant, or what it said about how much she knew. Or how much he knew, himself.
* * *
<<Y'okay, mate?>>
Angelo's gaze didn't budge from the spot it was glued to, somewhere up in the ceiling. His long-limbed body remained sprawled on his bed, arms flung out to dangle from the sides.
He grumbled something, persumably in response. All Jono could catch was a tail end of, '...bloody *mates*.'
Without moving, Ange replied, "No 'mate', I'm not fucking *okay*."
He sat up, and stared through Jono. "But hell. It doesn't matter, hombre. How're the girls doing with their milkshakes?"
<<Don't ask.>>
Ange snorted, but couldn't take the downcast expression off his face. "Figured as much."
<<How'd you know anyway?>>
Ange shrugged. "Heard the argument when I came in."
<<Heh.>> He leaned against the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. <<So, how was yer day'a being renegade?>>
***"Interesting," he said non-commitially. "Went to Boston."***
<<Yeh? That's it?>> He wouldn't look away. If Ange could keep looking at him, then he could keep looking at Ange. And not fidget. <<Sounds a bit boring, really.>>
Ange wasn't just looking at him now, he was staring, something intense and -- hard somehow in his eyes. "Yeah, well."
Jono shifted around on his feet, unsure whether Ange really wanted him to leave or not. He studied his face for a bit, and moved a few steps into the room. No desperate glare, so he moved far enough so he could sit on the desk chair.
They sat there, in a quiet broken only by the occasional muffled shout from downstairs. Jono finally started, <<Look, mate-->>
" *Don't* call me that, Jono. Just... just don't, right now, hombre."
Jono nodded, puzzled. Ange added, "And don't sit there trying to play 'therepist', por favor."
<<Am not. You wouldn't have enough money for the bill.>>
Jono wasn't able to say himself if it was more teasing, or frustrated sarcasm. Angelo didn't care, apparently; he stood up and went to the window, raking a hand through his hair, making a little sound of impatience, and stood there wordlessly.
<<I'm betting he's not there anymore,>> Jono said, shortly.
"Nope... doubt it."
Ange continued to stand there, nonetheless. Jono said hesitantly, <<Ange... you can talk to me. It's corny as hell... but you can.>>
"Really? That's really swell, Mr. Brady." Turning around, his sarcastic expression softened, although he wouldn't meet the other boy's eyes. "...I know, Jono."
Jono chuckled in his head, and lost the worried look. It didn't seem to be getting anything out of Ange, anyway. <<Right. Thanks. Anyway, cheesy telly references aside... what's really up, Ange?>>
The other boy made a futile, sweeping hand gesture, eclipsing everything and nothing at all. "Looks like you already know anything there is to know, man. And believe me, it's not much."
He kept his mental voice neutral, his face calm and expressionless. <<I dunno about that, mate. Might be a good idea to tell me everything, and we'll see what bits I recognize.>>
Ange chuckled, even though he wanted to brood. Jono had just too much practise in cheering people up... and he'd been taught by the best underhanded people in the biz. "What part you recog-- Oh, Jono..."
His face immediately drooped, and Jono hardly recognised his friend. <<Ange, look... I know something's going on. Have an idea of what it is. Just...>> He would have frowned, if he could. <<I dunno.>>
"Just, you don't want to go out and say it." Angelo's voice was shocking in its sudden bitterness. "Just, you don't wanna touch this with a ten feet pole."
Startled, he felt an uncharacteric anger descend. <<That's not fair, Ange!>>
"Isn't it?" said the bitter, defeated voice of his best friend. "I know I don't."
Jono watched Angelo stomp to the stereo and turn it off with a sudden fierceness. He stayed seated in the chair, and said quietly, <<Why not?>>
"Cause! Come on, Jono! Si, we snuck in a took a peek at Frost's panties. Nice, soft suede, too. But--"
His mouth suddenly froze, and his face closed off again as he realized that he'd just half-admitted this was about a person in Authority. Or a person, at all. Or anything to do with sex. Or... Ange sat down on the bed, facing away from Jono, and put his head in his hands. "Mierda, Jono," he said softly. "I've gone loco."
***Jono kept his eyes firmly on the wall, avoiding the stare that kept threatening to swivel and face his friend. Just as softly, he answered, <<Nah. I was obsessed with scoring with a girl twice my age in London.>> He paused, shaking his head slowly, before adding, <<She was patient enough, considering I tried desperately to impress'er while we practised guitar. Kept extending the lessons -- anything to keep playing with her.>>***
Angelo flopped down on the bed, his hands still covering his face. "Oh fucking hell, Jono. Like that's anything at all like this."
<<Ange,>> he said, rather surprised to find his 'voice' gentle. <<Not that I'm trying to dismiss your angst level here, but no, it's not that much different.>>
Angelo just about jumped off the bed. Jono was beginning to consider getting dizzy. "Oh, fuck you, man. *Fuck* you. Of *course* it's different. You can't even go out and say it, for Christ's sake!"
<<No, I don't think that's the thing, here.>> Quiet, calm, collected. Strange, that. <<It'd be bloody weird, but I can do it. I just don't think it's my line to say.>>
They heard footsteps echoing though the hall, and a girl's voice grumbling loudly about idiots and their frozen yoghurt. Ange's face immediately froze, eyes closed in a painfully dismal way, before opening with a reluctant sigh.
Jono stood up, and covered his eyes with a hand. <<Y'can kick her out, Ange. If you want. Or me. But especially her.>>
Angelo tried to smile, but it looked twisted and strange anddidn't even reach his mouth. "No, that's okay. Not like I'm gonna turn down milkshakes, huh?"
Jono shook his head, unsure what to say to him, when the other boy's hand touched his shoulder. Tentatively. "Hey, man... thanks. You know?"
To that, at least, he had an answer, although perhaps not the right one. <<Yeah, mate. I do.>>
~*~
Now
*
"So, Jubilee's back in town," he said, finally.
Catching up on old news, in a dank London flat, always brought up a few ghosts. Pete thought they should face this one sooner, rather than later.
"She's changed her codename, actually," said Angelo, in a strangely far-off voice. "Doesn't let anyone call her Jubilee anymore. It's either J or Blaze. Not since -- Logan."
"Not all that grown up, then," he muttered.
Angelo looked a little angry, suddenly. "That's not fair. She hasn't had an easy time -- hell, ever. She's been doing her best over one fuckwad of a year. Cut her some slack."
"You always did love that girl a liitle more than what's healthy for you," said Wisdom, very softly.
Angelo chose to ignore it.
*
They stayed in each others arms, the television on low, for at least three episodes of bad sitcoms. When the eleven o'clock news came on, Ange stretched a hand out to snag the remote, and turn the set off. Where they had once been bathed with a harsh, digital glow, now the only light was coming from Pete's window.
It had gotten dark fast.
It tended to, in Pete's arms.
Ange really wasn't very comfortable, when he thought about all the things that were poking and prodding him. Pete had something dreadfully sharp in a pocket -- his keys, he was guessing -- and the couch itself was so old that the springs were *still* jabbing--
The trick was not to think about anything but the way Pete's breath tickled his neck. He was satisfied with laying there in the dark, pressed against the back of the couch, just to feel that warm air on him.
The body spooned against his was a fringe benefit.
Angelo really hadn't realized how much he'd *missed* Pete, on a primal level. The last time he'd been with anyone was almost eight months ago, and the last time he'd actually stuck around until morning...
He was engaged, four years ago. That would be it.
His instincts had been way off with that one, but there really weren't many options in the military.
Arms loosened around him momentarily, and then one slid off entirely. He got a little concerned, to begin with, but then he chuckled when he understood; Pete grasped his wrist and guided it up to his face so he could peer at Angelo's watch.
"Shite, mate, but got late fast."
And it was, but Angelo didn't really care. He was a little bored, that was true; and it was getting almost too dark to see Pete's face, and he wasn't okay with that. He planned to memorize every change while they lay there, in case he didn't get another chance.
But between it being late, and the idea of leaving, he'd pick the boredom any time. And it's not like there was anywhere he had to be, or anyone he had to meet. Yes, Jubilee was in town -- and he still thought of her as Jubilee, not J, despite himself -- but Pete took priority.
Any time with Pete, any he could steal, took priority. It always had.
He used to feel a little guilty for that, in the months after, after Pete had gone. After she had stayed. Even giving him weird looks and being angry and sometimes avoiding him altogether, she had stayed. Friend, teammate, everything Pete chose not to be. Little sister.
Still... "You have plans, hombre?"
It was a gamble, and if the answer was affirmative, his heart would sink down into his shoes, but he asked anyway. Better to find out now, and go, than to learn everything new there was, and find out he was bottom of Pete's list.
Pete scratched his ribs, yawning quietly. "Well, I had planned a roaring evening of walking down to the pub on the corner... buying a few rounds and coming home alone, to sleep alone."
It was such a casual sentence, but the meaning sank into Angelo's very bones. He stood up akwardly, and moved over to the window. Drawing the blinds slowly, he murmured, "Sounds dull."
Pete stretched out full on the couch, watching Angelo move about the apartment. He went into the kitchenette, started some coffee to brew. He answered, "Well, you know me. Just a regular Friday night."
Angelo couldn't help himself any more, and came back to the body he craved. He leaned over, and very softly planted a kiss on Pete's lips. Kiss number two, and if it was possible, it was sweeter than the first. Yes, he'd missed Pete.
He'd missed him a hell of a lot.