Chapter Text
Sean, to be fair, was having a really difficult time of it.
Luckily for Sean, he had read up on how this time of year turned football players into ogres to most people in their lives. Still, it was astonishing to deal with.
So earpiece on, his breakfast kitchen a mess, he held onto his skillet and stared at his burning eggs while listening to Sean speak in a steady growl down the line.
Why couldn’t they meet up for a couple hours during the week for dinner? They didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do, he wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t even look at him like that if he didn’t want him to. They’d just talk, just see each other and not have this artificial pressure put on their relationship.
“There’d be no touching, I swear.”
His jaw almost hung open. Yeah, because Sean touching him against his will was the cause of all their problems.
“It’s not happening, Sean.”
“Come on, I promise. It’s a lot more distracting not having you here.”
“That’s just your testosterone talking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re trying to manipulate the situation. If we got together we’d end up in bed for two days and you know it.”
“And what the hell is wrong with that? If they’re saying I have this…problem—”
“A lot of pro athletes at your level have it. I looked it up. It’s not just you.”
“I told you, those guys are out partying with models and rock stars every night. With us, it’s just you and me.”
…and your body, and my fantasies, and your intense desire to do whatever it takes to please me sexually, not to mention my—
“Holden,” Sean groaned, and he shivered, the sound so unexpectedly delicious at 7:45 in the morning. He set aside the pan and pushed his hair back, breathing slowly through his mouth and taking a moment to get a handle on the sensations. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes.
“Holden, I can do this,” Sean said seductively, so convincingly. “I did it while we were dating and believe me I didn’t want you any less then. All right, so not even dinner. Let’s just meet up for lunch. I’ll drive up to L.A. no problem. How ‘bout that, sweetheart?”
“I’d love to,” he said weakly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Is that a yes?”
Sean was on roll. The last two games had been wins for the Chargers and Sean was apparently chasing some NFL record for…something.
Pass completions in a game, he recalled. The commentators were stunned that he had almost tied a twenty-year record within a matter of two quarters. They’re talking MVP if he keeps it up.
“Sweetheart?”
“That’s a no,” he said gently.
~*~
It wasn’t pretty.
After failing at trying to get him into a lunch or dinner, Sean went for broke, bringing up his family and the sacredness of the upcoming holidays. Though he himself didn’t care much for family get togethers, he knew how important Sean’s family was to him and how delicate the matter was. Here, no one had to tell him to tread delicately.
“How ‘bout we plan for the important stuff, then? In a couple of weeks it’ll be Thanksgiving and we’ll get together then. You’ll meet my family, we’ll— you’ll be around my family so nothing’ll happen.”
“Paula said I can’t.”
The valet suddenly appeared before him. Startled, he looked up, needing a moment to figure out why the man was staring at him with his hand up-turned. Then he remembered and handed him his ticket. He turned his attention back to his phone call. Sean had gone deathly silent.
“What’d— What?” Sean asked, softly. “What do you mean, Paula said you can’t?”
“She said it’s one of the biggest football days of the year and if we get together, what with all the feasting and…um,” he licked his lip, “things, that there was no way we wouldn’t do, quote, whatever it is we do that makes you so useless on the field. End quote.” He grimaced, hoping for the best. Paula lacked subtlety and unfortunately so did he, and he didn’t know how else to put this. “I told her I would pass along the message.”
Sean seemed to have lost the ability to speak.
Standing on the corner of Sherwood Drive and La Cienega, he made sure to stay on the pavement and watch for cars pulling in and out of the narrow driveways on either side of him. Though his dinner at the Belmont had ended a while ago, he had delayed getting his car as he couldn’t imagine having this conversation while driving.
“She can’t do that,” Sean finally said, sounding astounded. “And you can’t seriously be paying any attention to her.”
“I am though.”
Had he any doubts, he would have considered negotiating with Paula despite her being one of the most demanding people he had ever met. She certainly hadn’t minced words when she had called him that Monday after The Day. But she was demanding of all the rights things when it came to Sean, and on that front, he was squarely on her side.
“Sean, this is just too important. Are you hearing what they’re saying about you out there? They’re saying you’re on track to make MVP.”
“I getting screwed when they’re saying I’m fucking up…and I’m getting screwed when they say I’m doing all right. Does that make sense to anyone?”
But there was more of course.
He waited for Sean to grasp the enormity of the situation.
“So wait, does this mean that Christmas is off too?”
He pressed a hand to his eyes, almost having a heart attack as the valet came flying around the corner, coming to a fast break in front of him in his car.
~*~
Then after that it was the sex part. The part that had him wondering whether there was a medal waiting for him at the end of all this. He pressed his head against the warm glass of the living room window seat. It was raining outside.
“We could have phone sex,” he offered softly.
“I don’t want to have phone sex,” Sean said tightly. Sean didn’t really seem to go for that…
“It’s not just about the sex, Holden,” Sean said, his tone pleading for understanding. “It’s not like that for me. For me it’s— I want to be with you.”
And it just hurt more and more.
He could hear the noise of the locker room in background. Sean was back in Philadelphia.
Philadelphia…
In Philadelphia they would have stayed at The Rittenhouse. Private, intimate. He would have tried to get Sean in for a late dinner but failing that he would have had room service show up and around 2am, right when he became ravenous. Sexually it would have been…maybe giving each other handjobs, while saying what they they feeling, each watching the other fall apart…
He closed his mouth, hit the mute button and let out a breath.
“Sweetheart,” Sean said softly. “It’s ten more weeks. Couldn’t I just hold you one last time before we have to say goodbye?”
He rubbed his forehead. “We’re not saying goodbye.”
“I know, I know…”
~*~
He pushed his head against his locker door and kept it there.
Twenty-seven minutes until game time.
The guys were each in their own way getting mentally ready for the game. Some were listening to music on their iPods, some were pounding and head-butting each other, some texting and some reading, and still others making phone calls to loved ones.
He was in the latter category. But as he kept his voice directed into the privacy of his locker, while Holden’s soothing tones filtered through the line, he wasn’t sure how frustration was supposed to be helping his game.
God help him, had he once thought he’d find it cute if Holden ever decided to withhold sex for some reason? Fuck, he must have been in one hell of a good place.
~*~
The sad thing was, if he was honest with himself, the only thing keeping him from saying to hell with it and going back to meeting Sean on the road was the depth of Sean’s own aggravation.
Ten months ago he couldn’t have fathomed putting up with any of it. There wouldn’t have seemed a man alive worth the trouble. But now, as he listened to Sean’s upset tones night after night, he was actually unable to get upset. Sean’s domineering attempts, scarily, sounded like love serenades to him.
It made him wonder whether he had lost his mind.
As he listened to Sean speak, he felt like one of those flowers unfurling in a time lapse film. It was bizarre but true. Like something inside him was coming awake, resilience or a new form of self-control. Aloud he encouraged Sean to focus on the next game, but inside he held onto the words and silently begged Sean to never stop rejecting it, to never stop being upset over the unfortunate circumstance that had broken them up when they were just getting to truly discover each other. But it was slow, and it was exhausting, and sometimes he just couldn’t do it. And on days like this he was just numb.
He was at a lunch meeting in Lower Manhattan. He had been looking forward to it because he liked being in New York City, but within a few minutes his attention had begun wandering. He struggled to keep his focus on the subject at hand.
The drink of choice around the table was Grey Goose tonics, but he was studiously sticking to water, claiming a slight sore throat. Because although he was starting to get the feeling of wanting a shot of something really hard, immediately, that would dull the edge of his need, by Christ he wasn’t going there. Halfheartedly he picked up his water and took an equally detached sip, then gratefully set it back down when the waiter arrived for their orders.
As soon as they ordered business could start, and he could count on a couple of hours of total immersion in something other than his unbearable longing for Sean Jackson.
~*~
He jiggled the keycard a few more times in the slot and, yup, still got a red light. The light flashed at him tauntingly. He frowned and turned the card over.
He could never understand it. He entered hotel rooms countless times a month and he still couldn’t get the hang of opening these doors. Each time he was able to get in it was really just pure luck.
“Those really are very tricky.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the voice, which was very close, and was only mildly startled to see the senior vice president of the investment firm with whom he had just concluded lunch. The meeting had gone well enough, the departing sentiment being that their firms would continued business over the phones.
But he took in the investment banker’s stance, and then his smile, and looked down at the floor.
“D’you mind?” the banker said, reaching for his card. He was tall, good looking and confident; pure New York.
He held onto the key. The banker flicked his fingers questioningly, his eyes pinned on him. He was asking two questions at once, the one with his fingers, about the key, and the more intimate one with his eyes, about his entry. His smile stayed frictionlessly intact.
“I, ah, asked around,” the banker quickly added, still with the smile. “I’m with someone as well. So…it’s okay.”
“Oh, good, great,” he said amiably. Then he heard himself and quickly shook his head. “I mean, no. What I mean is, I’m happy for you, that you’re with someone. He must be very nice.” Oh, lord. “Your— guy. But I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t,” the banker said smoothly, grinning infectiously now. And it was an infectious grin, one he clearly knew how to wield.
“You’re kind of irresistible you know,” he added, lowering his voice. He moved in closer, until they could feel each other right up against the door. “D’you know that? Does he tell you that?”
“I have an early morning. Thanks for the offer—” he cringed at the inappropriate words, and somehow got the card in and out and watched the green light flash. “Have a great night. By- by yourself.”
He had slipped inside the room and closed the door behind him before the banker could get in another word.
He remained at the door and automatically glanced at the bed.
His head, his heart, his cock kicked into high gear. Oh, Sean, please don’t call me tonight.
He checked his watch. He had friends in the City and had meant to stay overnight and catch the morning flight back to L.A. But he now faced the fact that they were the type of friends you kept when you were single and staying overnight on a business trip. Calling them only meant one thing.
And though he was pretty sure that sticking dollar bills into D&G briefs didn’t amount to cheating, it wasn’t a notion he was willing to put to the test right now. Not until after at least years of Sean owing him big time for his own misbehaviors. He was pretty sure Sean could misbehave at some point.
But for now he headed into the bathroom and began packing up.
~*~
“So how come you’re not affected by any of this?”
He buttoned his jacket, adjusted his earpiece a little tighter—perhaps he hadn’t heard right—and shoved his hands into his pockets.
He had temporarily left a dinner party at which his father’s eyes had hawkishly watched him see the caller and excuse himself, and was now standing in a Hudson River School adorned, cherrywood library. The muted sounds of the party, reminding him of his obligations, filtered quietly in.
“Holden?”
“Who says I’m not?”
“Well, you don’t sound—” Sean stopped, clearly checking himself.
He waited.
“You don’t sound like you are,” Sean concluded defiantly.
“I just try not to think about it.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing? Trying not to think of me?”
He gave it a moment. In fact he gave it several, because he thought he might have finally hit his limit.
“Holden…” Sean said hoarsely.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, keeping his voice just this side of cold, “yes. That’s exactly what I do. I wake up in the morning trying not to think of you. I shower, get into my car and drive to work trying not to think of you. And then I sit in meetings, like a fucking airhead, trying not to think of you. Do you know what that’s like? And then the day ends, and I count off one less day before I can stop having to think of you. So yeah, if you want to know. That’s all what I do. Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that somehow make you happy?”
He heard a quiet sound from the other end. Something that were it not for the possible interference of high-spirited laughter from the other room, he might have suspiciously called a whimper.
Sean started saying something, then stopped as his voice was coming out too rough.
He waited.
“I’m sorry, Holden,” he finally whispered.
“Don’t apologize, Sean. We’re both in a bad place. We’re just…handling it differently that’s all. Look, I know you’re probably in the middle of your evening sessions with the coaches. Call me later tonight?”
“I’ll do that,” Sean said softly.
~*~
At a quarter to eleven he was woken up by his phone buzzing violently under him. Shuffling across his scattered papers and tangled bedsheets, he found the chunk of vibrating plastic wedged into his side and pulled it out.
He rubbed his eyes and stared first at his nightstand clock, then at the name on the caller ID. When the hell was he going to get it together and get a special ringtone for Sean? He brought it to his ear. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Gimme a minute,” then searched around for his earpiece. At last he found it, sighed and turned onto his back, his eyes still closed, and hooked it to his ear. How he wished he could be coordinated.
Sean was chuckling softly. Ah, well, this was a sound he could deal with. Eyes closed, he sank into a darkness comprised only of the sensual tones of Sean’s voice. He guessed it was going to be a conversation very different in tone from their previous one. They should probably conduct all their conversations lying down.
“You all set?” Sean asked softly.
“You bet.”
Sean apologized again for his attitude that afternoon, then for his whole attitude the entire time since their separation. He said he knew even when he was doing it that he was being selfish, and he apologized with all his heart for his behavior.
“It’s as if I’ve been over here the entire time, and some other person had taken over.”
It hadn’t felt that way to him at all. Sean had always been very emotional, whether he chose to act on it or not.
“But sweetheart, and I’m not trying to make excuses, but it hurts so much to be without you. I didn’t think anything could hurt like this.”
“So how’re you coping, really?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“You’re doing great out there, though. Everyone’s going crazy over you.”
“I feel great out there. Just not inside. But I’ll cope though. I’m a big boy.”
His heart was going crazy. “You still don’t think we should Skype?” he asked, trying to help.
“Uh-uh, no way,” Sean immediately replied in a rough voice.
He let it be. He could follow Sean’s logic, as without question it would quickly devolve into a sex video. He got dry-mouthed thinking about that thing Sean had that looked like a giant flashlight with a big silicone hole in it that Sean could use so adeptly. He wouldn’t have minded having the video of that, expect that Sean was sure it would somehow end up on the internet and find its way to viral stardom from there.
“Then can you hold out a little bit longer?” he asked gently, a little teasingly. “Can you do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
“My hero.”
Sean sighed.
He opened his eyes, staring unseeingly at the white ceiling. He was used to making things happen to resolve situations. But with his own relationship he was lying in a state of helplessness foreign to him. “Well,” he said, feeling as though he was being tugged in many directions. “I should probably let you go.”
“Yeah. Hey, I think you should know, by the way. I bought a bottle of your shower gel.”
He frowned in surprise. “What, the Bulgari?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? I thought you said it made me smell like I got paid by the hour.”
“It does.”
He laughed. “Then why do you have it? You’re not going to send it to me, are you? Keep me smelling the way you like?”
“Nah, not planning on sending it.”
He laughed again, involuntarily looking toward his bathroom. “Then what? What are you doing with it?”
“Well,” Sean said, his voice warm and heavy. “Every morning I get into the shower, and I open it up. I take a long, deep whiff of my honey’s sweet smell… Get some of that good stuff all the fucking way inside me—”
He shook his head, suppressing his laughter. “You’re so gross…”
“And then I just stand there loving that feeling for a while…”
“Aww.”
“And then when I’m done with that I pour it all over my co—”
“You do not.”
“Heck, yeah, I do.”
He started laughing and couldn’t stop. Sean was laughing as well. “Not even kidding. Every morning. It’s a great way to wake up.”
But as he listened he could hear that Sean was laughing with effort, as if putting his mind to doing it, and it simply broke his heart.
“I love you, Holden,” he said sadly.
“I feel the same way about you, Sean. I always have.”
“G’night, sweetheart.”
They disconnected and sleep wouldn’t come. He wanted to make it things easier and for once he didn’t know how.
~*~
There was less of a crush than he would have imagined.
The quarterback coach, who it turned out was indeed a real friend to Sean, had told him it would be like this, perfect for spouses who wanted to get in some quick alone time away from the press.
He kept his eyes on the players, reporters, and assistant coaches flowing in from the stadium into the entrances leading to the locker rooms. The noise of the stadium was unbelievable from here, totally different from hearing it on television or even from an elevated box. It was a Denver game and the Chargers had once again won. Whatever the crowd up top was feeling, they were definitely letting it be known.
Sean appeared, at last, in the dark passageway. He was among a last batch of players pushing along amidst a sea of reporters.
He raised his hand as Sean looked up. Sean stared.
He looked as though was seeing an apparition.
The group around him fell away, and Sean wandered over just as hesitantly. When they were standing close enough Sean took his arm, gripping him, while his light eyes roamed his face in the wintry afternoon light. He blinked as if to make sure.
He smiled and stood still.
He didn’t want to be in New York or anywhere else, with anyone else, ever. He wanted to be right here.
But he’d had made a pact with himself that he would only show up if it had been a win and only stay five minutes. His five minutes were running.
Glancing behind him to make sure the spot he had staked out was still secure, clear of any spectators in any sense of the word, he pulled Sean to one corner.
Sean dropped his helmet and pulled loose his padding, his expression frozen, as if moving too fast would burst his dream. He sucked in his breath as Sean came closer, pushing him up against the scaffolding, locking his arms around him under his jacket.
And then Sean was shaking his head. “Holden?”
Sean asked it as if wanting to make sure he wasn’t about to make out with someone else’s boyfriend. He laughed and placed a finger to his lips, then fisted the front of Sean’s jersey.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he whispered, when Sean lowered his head. “So make this count.”
Sean did.
Sean kissed him all over his face until he was sure he was coming in a long, wet stream down his leg. He was shaking like a starving man. And then Sean finally got to his mouth and, quite literally, ate him up.
~*~
That was how he spent his November.
And after that, Sean went back to work.
~*~