No Place That Far (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Marcus timed their departure perfectly. Though Chris and Julien's place wasn't all that far from Sea-Tac, there was that lovely interchange between the two freeways that always got clogged up, and once Boeing released its day-shift employees, that interchange would be a goddamned parking lot. Better to get to the airport early, pay a few extra bucks for parking and chill in a coffee shop while they waited.

They'd agreed to meet Chris and Julien at Baggage Claim, and as luck would have it, their flight would be collecting baggage at the carousel nearest the coffee shop. Win.

Now if the flight would just magically arrive ninety minutes early so Marcus could stop fantasizing about what it would be like to sit here and wait for Timur to appear after a long absence…

He shook his head and idly stirred his coffee for something to do. On Saturday, he'd see Timur off, wish him well, and by Sunday, be on his way toward moving on. He had to work on Saturday night. Considering Wilde's was a veritable cornucopia of horny single men, he could probably find one or two who'd be willing to distract him for the night. After all, a night with Timur had been effective in distracting him from his divorced-dude-at-a-wedding pity party.

His gaze slid toward Timur.

Yeah, and look how
that
night of distraction turned out.

Shit.

A loud buzzer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see the baggage carousel starting up. Tired passengers were already shuffling toward it, heavy bags on their shoulders
and
under their eyes.

“That's their flight.” Marcus got up. “We should go wait for them.”

Timur gathered their coffee cups and napkins. Once they'd cleared off their table, they made their way to the growing crowd of exhausted travelers.

“There!” Timur jerked his chin toward the escalator.

Julien and Chris appeared, both looking as wiped out as everyone around them, but tanned, happy and holding hands like they didn't give two shits if anyone was offended by two men being affectionate in public. Marcus silently dared someone to say something—a smart-mouthed homophobe probably wouldn't last long once two gay legionnaires got in his face. The thought made him chuckle, which relieved a tiny bit of the tension that was clawing its way into his back and shoulders.

Quit stressing over it,
he told himself.
Timur's here for a few more days. Just enjoy it.

Julien spotted them first and leaned in to Chris, pointing their way with a smile. Chris lit up, and they both waved but stayed near the luggage carousel until their bags came around.

Not long, and they were hugging. “I'm so glad you guys are picking us up. I don't think I could drive after that flight.” Chris pointed at Julien. “He never told me how long those damned flights are…”

“Don't worry about that. We got that.” Marcus flinched and hoped nobody'd seen it.

We.

Yeah, because speaking of himself and somebody else in the plural at such occasions wasn't a dead giveaway.

Timur helped with the luggage, loading himself down with a suitcase and a couple of assorted bags that were likely presents, while Julien and Chris talked about just how beautiful that island was where there'd been. Jungle, white sandy beaches and an active volcano. Apparently, they'd also made a detour to India and Hong Kong, which explained some of the gift bags.

While Chris spoke, his eyes were alight with happiness. First time ever he'd left the States, aside from his missionary work, and apparently he'd loved it, while Julien seemed to get a bigger kick out of Chris's enthusiasm than seemingly from the memory, but maybe that was what summed up love in a nutshell—getting a bigger kick out of your partner than just about everything else in the world. That ability to see things anew and with unjaded, fresh eyes because your partner had never seen it before. Loving their pleasant shock and surprise when your partner fell in love with something you'd shown them, and appreciating old favorites all the more.

On the way out to the car, Julien and Timur carried on in rapid-fire French, Julien gesturing wildly as he told his comrade about…something.

“Great,” Chris muttered to Marcus. “Just when he'd
finally
stopped switching to French all the time.” He gestured at Timur. “That guy's a bad influence.”

You don't say.

Marcus laughed, but it probably sounded as halfhearted as it was.

Chris glanced at the two soldiers chatting like a couple of schoolkids, then back to Marcus. “What brought you along, anyway? I thought Julien misread Timur's e-mail when he said you were coming along.”

“Oh. Um.” Marcus nodded toward Timur. “We've been…” Dating? Fucking?

Chris chuckled and elbowed him. “You dirty dog. And here I thought the two of you just hooked up at the wedding.”

Marcus shrugged. “Well, if it's good one night, it'll be good the second night.”
And the seventh…and the tenth…

“Good point.” Chris paused. “Have you guys spent this whole month together?”

“When I wasn't working.”
And sometimes when I was.

“Wow.” His friend patted his shoulder. “That's good. Glad to see you getting out there. And I was worried about leaving Timur alone in Seattle, but I think he did all right.” Chris winked.

“Yeah. He did.” Marcus laughed again with a tiny bit more enthusiasm. “It's going to be weird when he leaves.”

Chris's amusement evaporated. “Oh. Yeah. I can imagine.”

Marcus started to think,
No, you can't.
But then his eyes shifted toward Julien, who was smiling broadly as he told some story or another to Timur.
Then again, maybe you can.

A skybridge led them from the terminal into the parking garage. After about three seconds' worth of debate, Chris insisted Timur and Julien sit in the back so they could continue their conversation.

“But I don't want to ditch you,” Julien protested.

Chris kissed him. “We've been joined at the hip for the last month. You don't get to see Timur very often.” He gestured at the backseat.

Julien hesitated, but then kissed his husband again and climbed into the backseat with Timur. Before Marcus had even backed out of the parking space, the two soldiers were already back to their unintelligible conversation.

Chris laughed and rolled his eyes. “They'll do this right up until we drop Timur at the airport. Guaranteed.”

Oh. Marcus smiled. “I'm sure. Must be tough to go that long without seeing each other.”

They exchanged glances. Chris didn't seem at all threatened by it. If anything, he understood how close they'd been, and how difficult it was to be a world apart from someone you still loved.

Marcus paid for the parking space, and they headed out onto the freeway just in time to land right smack in the middle of the daily Boeing exodus. He tapped his thumbs on the wheel and inched along. Merging in this kind of traffic was a slow process that rivaled how long it took for the continent of India to smash into Asia and create the Himalayans. And that probably hadn't involved quite so much road rage or assholes on cell phones.

After a while, Chris broke the relative silence—Marcus and Julien had barely stopped for air—and said, “I'm assuming you and he will want a little, uh, time together? Before Saturday?”

“Well.” Marcus glanced in the rearview. “I'd like to. But as you said, they don't get to see each other much.”

“Neither will the two of you.”

Ouch, Chris.

“I hope you guys didn't ruin your appetite with that airplane food.” Marcus half turned to include Julien in the conversation. “I may have prepared for a welcome-back meal.”

Nobody protested. The most merciful thing he could do to Chris and Julien was keep them awake until the late evening, and a nice, relaxed meal with decent company should accomplish that.

Finally, the Indian subcontinent docked, and Mt. Everest had reached its final height. The Boeing traffic thawed just a bit there toward the end, and Marcus was glad he'd already bought all the ingredients he needed so they didn't have to brave even more traffic and could head straight to Burien and hole up there with food.

When they did arrive at the house, a fluffy tail swished across the curtains. “I think the cats know you're coming back today.” Marcus killed the engine. “Maybe you go first, Timur and I bring in the luggage?”

“Good idea. The cats are going to try to climb all over us.” Julien pushed the car door open. Chris hesitated, looked between Timur and Marcus, but then followed his husband, who was already unlocking the door. Marcus grabbed a backpack, a suitcase and some of the smaller bags, and Timur took the rest. By the time they'd dragged everything indoors, Julien and Chris were besieged by cats—and how two felines managed to be everywhere at the same time was anybody's guess. Marcus dropped his burden in the living room and vanished into the kitchen. He'd prepared some of the antipasti in advance, but there was still a fair bit of work to do.

Working, he had the strangest sense of Zen. His mind emptied, and he concentrated completely on the task at hand, but there was zero stress involved. Pure muscle memory and concentration, and somehow that was better than meditation. He used to be able to cook like that, before running a whole kitchen and half a restaurant had instilled a constant anxiety in him that nothing eased. None of that now. He didn't worry. He just cooked, trusting his hands completely.

From the living room, a French conversation drifted over. Somewhere else in the house, a shower was running. The atmosphere was relaxed, completely chill, and somehow felt like it had been this way all along. And would stay that way.

Marcus's hands faltered for a second.
No. No. Stop thinking about that.
He shook the thought away and continued preparing the food and not obsessing about the hours that were ticking by way too quickly.

He was distantly aware of the shower stopping. A few minutes later, the stairs creaked under someone's feet, and the conversation in the other room shifted to English. Funny how he could tell what language they were speaking, but they were just quiet enough he couldn't actually make out the words. Chris's voice. Now Julien's. A short, gruff comment from Timur. Julien again. Some laughing.

Oddly, he didn't feel left out. He knew damn well the conversation would pull him in once he was finished in here and they'd all sat down to eat. He was perfectly content to let Chris and Julien relax after their long flight, and let Julien and Timur catch up. God knew how much time those two had had to actually talk between Timur's arrival and the wedding. If Julien had been half as frazzled and busy as Chris had been, then…not much.

Soft footsteps padded on the kitchen floor, and as the language in the living room went back to French, Chris said, “You need any help in here?”

Marcus glanced up and shook his head. “No, I've got it. But some conversation is always good.”

“That I can do.” Chris pulled a chair away from the kitchen table. He turned it, straddled the back of it and folded his arms on top. “So this is what you did before you came to Wilde's? Cooking?”

“Yep.”

“Don't tell Liam. He might start nudging the owner again about serving food at the club.”

“Damn it. Now you tell me.” Marcus sighed dramatically. “We had him and his husband over for dinner while you were gone.”

“We?” Chris's eyebrow arched. “As in…” His eyes flicked toward the living room, and that eyebrow climbed higher.

“Yes.” Marcus shifted his attention to the food, focusing unnecessarily intently on chopping tomatoes. “Timur came over, and so did Liam and Jon.”

“Oh. Well, don't be surprised if you find yourself volunt-told to cook instead of pour drinks.”

Marcus chuckled. “I could think of worse things. With the drinks people order at that place, they do seem to have good taste.”

“Yeah, and they can probably be placated with hot wings just like everybody else.”

“Then Liam had better find someone else to work the grill.”

“You take that up with him. Let me know how it works out for you.”

They exchanged glances, and both laughed.

A moment later, Julien and Timur strolled into the kitchen.

Julien leaned over and wrapped his arms around Chris's waist. “We figured we should check on you two.” He kissed Chris's cheek. “Make sure you're staying out of trouble.”

“Uh-huh.” Chris eyed him. “For all we know, you two are in there plotting world domination.”

Julien flashed a toothy grin and turned to Timur. “See? They don't understand a word we're saying.” He added something in French, and Marcus suspected it was along the lines of “we really could be plotting world domination”.

Timur's laugh was boyish and adorable, the mischievous sound of someone who probably had been scheming with his old friend. He stepped around behind Marcus and wrapped an arm around his waist. “No French?”

Marcus glanced at him. He usually hated people in his space while he was cooking, but with Timur, it was different. And when he met that grin up close, it was hard not to laugh. “If I spoke any French, you'd have known it by now.”

Chris and Julien both snickered.

Timur's grin just got a little bigger. He hooked his finger around Marcus's chin, turned his head slightly and kissed him. Right there in the kitchen, in front of his buddy/lover/comrade and
his
husband. As he let him go, Timur looked Marcus in the eye and said something in French. Something Marcus couldn't begin to understand, but the gleam in his eye filled in a few of the blanks.

“Jesus, Timur.” Julien laughed, and a hint of color bloomed in his cheeks. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”