riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-05-27 08:31 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-05-27 08:31 pm
Entry tags:
"Five Years" (Other, 1992)
Title: Five Years
Rating: R
Summary: What if Cody had chosen Janet?
Nick sat on the edge of the vinyl seat in May's on Sixth, elbows balanced on the scarred diner tabletop, staring at Cody. Here at the edge of a cold, damp wharf in Seattle, miles from anywhere either of them would have been on the lookout for each other, he'd run into the one guy he'd spent the last five years trying to forget. A nine-hour layover in this anonymous, grey city should have been safe. Instead, Nick thought, looking down at the dark, hot coffee in front of him, here they were, sitting and having coffee and not saying a goddamn word to one another.
He snuck another peek at Cody, who looked quickly down at his own cup.
Damn. Five years had really changed the guy. The mustache was gone, along with much of Cody's youthful exuberance, and his hair, once unruly and straw-colored, smelling of sand and sun, was slicked back neatly and starting to show gray. But more than that, at forty Cody looked haunted, unwell. He'd lost weight and his cheeks had taken on a hollow look that highlighted the bruised circles under his blue eyes. Nick couldn't shake the feeling that his best friend, the guy he'd loved for too many years to count, was dying right in front of his eyes.
Nick gripped the mug tightly, focusing on the burn of hot ceramic against his calloused palms. He tried to stop wondering what Cody's hair smelled like now.
Cody cleared his throat. "I suppose I should ask you how you've been, right? Isn't that how these things go?"
Nick closed his eyes. "You do that, Cody, I guarantee I'm gonna run out of here like there's a snake up my ass. Look, you've got two minutes to say whatever the fuck you want to me, then I'm gone, Cody. You hear me? Gone. Just like you were."
"Nick, that's not fair."
Nick's eyes flew open. "Not fair? Not fair, pal, is having your best friend dump you for the black-hearted reptile of an ex-girlfriend you spent ten years warning him about. Not fair is having to walk away from your business, your livelihood, your fucking home, and spending five years scrambling for every dime--and then, Cody, just when you think you might one day take a breath without feeling like your balls are still being kicked up into your throat, you choose the wrong fucking diner to have one lousy cup of midnight coffee in!"
The three other patrons in the place looked up from their plates of cold grease hash. Nick waved and gave them a weary smile. "It's great coffee, really. Just great."
With weary citydweller stares, the other patrons went back to their meals. Cody drew a nervous breath. "I guess I deserved that, Nick."
Shrugging, Nick took a sip of coffee. It burned his tongue and he grimaced, setting the cup back down on the worn pink melamine table. "Nah, you didn't deserve that, Cody. I'm just--look, I'm tired, okay? I flew a couple more routes than I should've this week and," he put a hand to the back of his neck, eyes squeezed shut, "you know how I get after a couple days of no sleep."
"Yeah, I do know, Nick. Neck still bothering you?"
Nick froze, and dropped his hand guiltily.
An uncomfortable silence descended on their table. Fog pressed against the filmed diner windows, turned to a shimmer of neon-reflecting bubbles on the glass. Out on the water, a foghorn warned of sharp rocks ahead. A heavyset, gray-stubbled man in thick, worn wool and a watch cap headed for the cash register. He didn't look at Nick and Cody, but both of them tracked his progress to the counter without seeming to. Bells on the front door jingled as he left.
"I fucked up," Cody said eventually.
"Oh yeah? How'd you do that? By running off with the girl of your dreams? By taking the second chance life gave you to have everything you ever wanted? Sounds to me like you didn't fuck up one bit, pal."
"I thought that was what I wanted, Nick, but then after you left, I realized...Nick, life with you was..."
"Was what, Cody? Easier than living with a woman whose hobbies include kicking puppies and stealing ice cream from orphans?"
Cody's eyes widened and Nick scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Cody, I didn't mean that."
Cody gave him a look.
"Well okay, okay, I did mean it, I just shouldn't have said it out loud. Tell Janet I hope she's doing well. I hope you both are. I'll look you up next time I'm in town. We can have a barbecue." Nick leaned back in the booth and fished in his pocket for a wad of crumpled bills. Tossing it on the table, Nick unfolded himself from the booth, vinyl squeaking under his jeanclad thighs.
"Janet and I don't talk so much since the divorce," Cody said softly. He didn't look up.
Nick stood for a second next to the table, eyes wide. All the frustration he'd felt earlier, all the panicked rage that had swamped him when Cody first appeared at his table, dissipated like fog rolling out to sea. He hated the pained lines etched on Cody's face, and he hated himself for ever letting the guy out of his sight. Whatever choices they'd both made in the past, Nick couldn't walk away now.
After a few moments, he sat back down with a long exhalation. He nearly reached across the table to take Cody's hand, but remembered himself in time. "Wanna talk about it?"
---
Things went okay at first, Cody told him. Janet kept her promise, moved down to King Harbor and onto the Riptide, and everyone loved her, right off the bat. Well, except for Mama Jo, who stopped speaking to both of them. But other than that things went really well. And then...it was just little things at first. Like Murray shorting out the electrical system with the Roboz while Janet was trying to reconcile all her monthly receivables. That didn't go over too well. And the time Dooley set the galley on fire. And of course, there was the time Arnie and his fish-finder honed in on Janet. Who was not a fish, and was also not really dressed at the time.
"Oh, and she and Joanna didn't get along at all," Cody said.
"You don't say." Nick kept his voice carefully neutral.
All in all, living aboard the Riptide lasted all of eight months, then Janet decided she'd be more comfortable in one of the big new houses in Pedro, closer to downtown. Cody'd fought her on it, but her mind was made up, and once Janet made up her mind, nothing short of a nuclear bomb could change it. So he gave in, and they picked out a nice pre-fab four-bedroom.
"When'd they put those in?" Nick interrupted. "And where?"
"Let's see, must be four years ago, easy. They put this whole big development in where the old Baumgarten's used to be, and the bowling alley, and Wiener World. That whole strip."
"They knocked down Wiener World? Aw man..."
"Yeah, that whole area of the downtown's gone now, buddy. The whole place is huge now, houses for miles. You should see it, Nick, it's incredible. It's a whole different place."
"I'll have to do that sometime, Cody."
"You mean you haven't been back there? Not since the..."
Neither of them spoke, not wanting to revisit the awful day Nick had left, the names they'd called each other, the things they'd both said that couldn't, as it turned out, be unsaid afterwards.
They looked at one another across the table, then Nick shook his head slowly. The uncomfortable silence threatened to return, hovering at the edge of the table, waiting to push them even farther apart. Cody cleared his throat again and continued with his story.
He'd tried hard to be happy living on land. It made Janet happy, so that should have made him happy, or at least less worried about their future together. But the little things continued to pile up, becoming bigger things. Hard, undealable things. Cody started drinking a little, and so did Janet, and things continued to get tossed on the pile: fights, staying late at work, out all night with the girls, that sort of thing.
The straw that broke the Riptide's back, so to speak, was when Cody came home one day to be greeted not by his smiling wife with a martini in one hand, but by the sight of Wade from Sales, whose naked ass was bobbing around in Cody's bed, on top of his wife. Who was, as it happened, smiling.
"After the last time, Nick, she told me she wouldn't do it again. I mean, how could I trust her after that?"
"Wait a minute, Cody. Exactly how many times did Janet cheat on you?"
"If we're not counting the Christmas party in Tucson--"
"Oh let's, just for argument's sake."
"Fine. Counting the Christmas party in Tucson, Wade was...number four?"
Nick stared at Cody, wide-eyed. "You let her get away with it three times before you left her?"
"Actually, she left me. She and Wade have two kids, I think. Last I heard, she'd been promoted and he'd decided to stay at home with them."
Nick shook his head and finished his coffee. "Women's libbers," he muttered. He signaled for a refill. "So," he said finally, "where is she?"
"I just told you. Tucson. With Wade."
"No, not her," Nick answered. "The Riptide. You two moved out, Murray's in Santa Barbara, but what happened to our--uh, I mean--"
"Drydock in Pasadena."
"Aw come on, man." Nick slapped the table, and the dish of creamers between them jumped. "You took her out of the water?"
Cody stared. "What was I supposed to do, Nick? You said it yourself: Murray was in Santa Barbara, Janet and I were living in Pedro--"
"--with Wade and his Christmas party--"
"--and the slip rental fees just kept going up--"
"--as opposed to drydock storage fees, which I've heard are quite reasonable."
"Listen, Nick, you're the one who's not being reasonable. You left, remember? You took that big pink rustbucket and just took off."
"Hey, you leave the Mimi out of this, okay? This is about you and Janet and Wade and the Riptide. A boat I helped you restore, remember? And, the way I remember it, your contributions to the process were one, dropping a hacksaw on your foot, two, nailing yourself to the forward bollard, which I still don't understand how you managed, and three, drinking all the beer and telling me how I was fixing her all wrong." Nick counted on his fingers as he went. He leaned forward across the table. "And then after all that time we spent on her, and after throwing me out, you drydocked her for Janet?"
Cody groaned. "I knew this was a mistake. I knew it as soon as I saw you through the window. I knew if I came in here, nothing would have changed. We'd just pick up fighting where we left off five years ago."
Nick toyed with one of the creamers, eyes thoughtful. "Cody," he said, "how long were you watching me?"
Cody sat up straighter on his side of the booth, looking mildly alarmed. The timely appearance of their waitress saved him from having to answer.
"You rang, your highness? Willing to subject yourself to another cup of 'lousy midnight coffee'? How gracious you are." All five-foot-six of Angie, as the nametag read, radiated attitude and Aqua Net in equal measures, and she held the coffeepot like a weapon.
Nick tried for charming. "Look, I'm sorry about that, about earlier? Jeesh. I was just having a real bad day, and--"
Across the table, Cody grinned at Nick's discomfort.
"--and here, why don't you take these as my apology--" Nick picked up the wad of bills he'd tossed on the table earlier and handed them to her. "--and I would dearly love another cup of coffee, if there's any available, okay? No hard feelings?"
Angie cracked her gum, and made no response. After a few seconds she grudgingly poured Nick another cup of coffee. She gave him the gimlet eye for a few seconds after that, then walked away, gunboat white sneakers squeaking across the tiles.
Cody chuckled, his eyes on Nick. "Still got a way with the ladies, I see."
Nick shook his head. "Yeah right. I've got a couple of exes who might disagree with you there, man."
Cody's laughter died away. "A couple of exes, huh? Any not-exes?"
"Not-exes? As in, am I seeing anyone right now? No Cody, I'm not. Turns out not many women want to be in a relationship with a guy who spends all his time either in or under a chopper."
"Flying cargo again?"
Nick shrugged. "It pays the bills." He sighed and resettled against the smooth plastic of the booth. "How 'bout you?"
"Nah, Nick, I never learned to fly. I'm still a water guy."
Nick stared. "No genius, I meant, are you seeing anyone right now?"
"Nope. After Janet, I got a little gun shy, and I haven't really..." Cody cleared his throat again, brightening. "I'm still a PI, though, Nick. Got my license in Oregon and Washington, too. I'm actually up here on a case."
Nick smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose I should ask you how that's going, right? Isn't that how these things go?"
Cody's face fell, taking Nick's heart with it.
"Maybe this was a bad idea," Cody said softly. "I should probably go."
"No--don't, look Cody, don't go, okay?" Nick bit his lip, willing the words to come. "It's just hard, you know? Running into you like this, sitting here talking just like old times. Talking like we're just two old friends who happened to wind up in the same place at the same time, and not..." Nick's voice trailed off, turning to a frustrated growl. He stared determinedly at the tabletop, then fixed steady, determined eyes on his former partner. "You know, Cody, I've thought about you every single day since I left. Every day, man." Nick shook his head. "I've spent the last five years trying to forget how good it was to be with you, how good we had it. And," Nick broke off, choking on the words. "I can't, you know? I just can't." He cleared his throat. "Cody, I've looked for your face in every airport, every bar, every garage, every hangar. I've spent so long, so long hoping I'd run into you again, trying to figure out what I'd say if I just had one more chance."
Nick stared at Cody, hoping for some sign, something to show that Cody understood what he was trying to say. But Cody was staring fixedly at a cigarette burn on the tabletop, clasping the coffee cup loosely in both hands. Nick took a deep breath and continued.
"Cody, you know this had nothing to do with, oh god, what were their names, those two clients from San Diego, the ones with the pollution lawsuit and the cousin, you know, the one with cancer? That was just...Cody, they were just a convenient excuse. I couldn't take it anymore, hearing you on the phone all the time, making plans with Janet for her visits. Having you gone all the time visiting her. I just couldn't..." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nick tried to keep his voice under control. "I couldn't face losing you, Cody. Living with you, working with you, that life we had back then, that was everything I ever wanted. Finding out you didn't want it, too. Man, that was..." Nick made a whistling noise. "I can't tell you what that felt like."
Cody looked down at the tabletop for what felt like an eternity. "The Wassermans," he said in a low voice. "They sued Ikon Pharmaceuticals on behalf of their daughter, Tara. Those samples we obtained from the main processing plant sealed their case, and Ikon had to pay up $1.7 million. Three months later, Tara was dead."
"How did that make it okay for you to throw me out?"
"Nick, I didn't throw you out! You left!"
"You made it clear who you'd chosen, Cody."
"Who I'd chosen? Nick, what was I supposed to do? Janet wanted a second chance and I--I..."
"You wanted it too," Nick finished softly. "But there's no room for three people in a relationship."
"What's that supposed to mean? Nick..." Cody toyed with the silverware with shaking hands. "Nick, you didn't have to leave."
Nick supposed they could go on like this for hours. They had in the past, that was for sure. Until they'd gotten better at getting under each other's skin than just about anything else.
"It doesn't matter, Cody. Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out for you and her, and..." Nick stopped, unsure what he should say next. All the things he really wanted to say--I love you, I've always loved you, seeing you like this is killing me, why the fuck did you pick this diner, Cody Allen--didn't seem like they'd improve the situation any.
"Look, Cody, I don't know how you--"
"I wanna keep in touch."
"What?" Nick hadn't seen that coming. At all.
"Nick, I don't want you disappearing out of my life again."
"But you--"
"Please, Nick," Cody whispered.
A huge alarm went off in the back of Nick's head, warning that things could never be like they used to, that this was just a stopgap measure until Cody found Janet Mark II, and that he'd just get his heart broken over and over again. But looking at Cody's haunted eyes, Nick knew that was infinitely preferable from walking out into the cold Seattle night, leaving his best friend at the mercy of his demons.
Nick sighed and shook his head, pulling his cellphone out of a jacket pocket. Besides, he never had been able to tell the guy no.
They settled the tab and wandered out to the parking lot, carefully not touching along the way. One of Cody's leather loafers sank into the mother-of-pearl shine of an oilslick puddle on the tarmac, shattering the reflections of the parking lot lights, setting them shimmering.
"Cody..."
Cody turned and grabbed Nick roughly, an arm around his shoulders, just like old times. Nick closed his eyes and slipped his arms around Cody's too-skinny ribcage. He'd spent so long fighting off all the feelings that flooded in whenever Cody'd touched him that they burst through his self-preservation and Nick breathed deep against his former partner's neck, remembering how it felt to be alive.
It hurt like hell.
"Nick," Cody whispered against his neck. "You're gonna call me, right, buddy?"
Nick held on tight, the words turned to puffs of air under his collar. "You can count on it, big guy."
Cody's hands tightened on his back, searching for...something under the worn flight jacket. Then Cody pulled away, his quickly retreating form making for a big American car in the last row, all the way to the right, away from the lights. Nick watched, heart in his throat, as Cody became again a shadow, returning to the land of his dreams.
And once the car was gone, Nick was left standing there motionless, frozen, listening to the harsh, muted roar of the ocean against the pier. He stood until the cold seeped under his jacket, snaking up under his chest, pushing. Pushing.
---
Nick waited three days to call.
At first he hadn't wanted to seem too eager, and then he'd worried he'd seemed disinterested, and the two factions collided in his brain, gnawing at him until he'd opened a beer, drank half in one gulp and told everyone in his head to shut the fuck up while he dialed Cody's number.
It was answered on the second ring.
"Nick?"
"Cody?"
And then it was just like old times. The two of them bouncing off each other, their thoughts entwined too surely to be just friends, but the territory they covered studded with landmines from the past.
Nick pulled some chicken from the fridge, dispensing with the plastic, dumping the whole in a frying pan with fresh garlic and chopped onions. "How's the PI business treating you?"
"Aw, you know how it is, Nick. Some months are better than others. I got that guy in Seattle, though."
"You did?" Nick turned on the gas burner. "Nice going, man."
Cody snorted. "It pays this month's bills, pal. That's about it."
Nick pulled a saute pan out of a cabinet, returning to the fridge for butter. "Hey Cody, can I ask you something?" He dropped a wedge of butter over the rapidly heating edge, pushing the week's mail farther from the spitting heat.
"Anything, Nick. You know that."
The butter turned a lazy brown under Nick's watchful eye, and a nutty aroma filled his senses. "That PI thing really paying the bills for you, Cody?"
"This month, sure, Nick. Other months...you know how it is."
"Yeah, tell me about it. So...you got anything else in the works? You know, for the months it doesn't quite, you know what I'm saying." The phone balanced between ear and shoulder, Nick grabbed a spatula, his other hand lifting a mug of lukewarm coffee, beer forgotten.
Cody took a deep and audible breath. "Well, there's the male modeling, of course."
Nick dropped his mug on the floor, where it shattered. He fumbled with the phone and swore, coffee soaking the bottoms of his jeans. Nick began searching his tiny apartment for a dustpan and brush, phone still safely wedged between jaw and shoulder. "Did you say 'male modeling' Cody?"
His partner chuckled. "Would it help to know that's the same reaction my mother had?"
"No Cody, I can't say it would." Nick turned the heat down under the chicken, then crouched and began sweeping up the shards of wet porcelain. "'Male modeling'? Like what, the new fall line of sports jackets for Spiegel or..."
"Or what?"
"You know."
"So you think I'm a porn star now, Nick?"
Nick toed the last of the broken ceramics against a piece of junkmail, the broom oversized and clumsy in his hands. "You're the one who said it, pal." An ominous silence descended and Nick plowed right through it. "Come on, Cody, out with it. How much did you take off?"
Cody chuckled. "Times've changed, Nick. Turns out I'm more of a mature attraction than a beach bunny. They just had me looking pensive and concerned in a ton of different slacks and button-ups. No Speedos were offered."
The image of Cody in a Speedo appeared to Nick unbidden and he cut his finger on a remaining shard. Sucking gently at the cut, he continued. "And if they had been?"
"Well, it would've been a different conversation. Look Nick, I don't know if you've tried the PI business lately, but it's gotten kind of lean, pal. Getting harder and harder to pay the bills."
Nick thought for a second, finger still in his mouth. "Wait, what d'you mean you don't know if I've tried it? Didn't you get my letters?"
There was a long pause.
"What letters?"
Nick fell on his ass with a thump, leaning against the oven door. His heart burned in his chest like a dying ember and he closed his eyes, weary beyond measure. "Cody," he said slowly, "I've sent you a letter every month since you--since we...how many have you gotten?"
"Not a one, buddy. I thought you just, you just needed some time to think."
"Five years? No one needs to think for five years, Cody. Look," Nick ignored the ominous sizzling coming from the pan of chicken above him. "Cody, I thought you knew. Those letters, they--"
"Explained everything?" There was a clink of ice cubes in a heavy glass. "Somehow, I'm not surprised they didn't get here."
"Cody, man...I don't know what to say."
"I do. I'm gonna kill her. Once this house sells--"
"Wait a minute, Cody, wait. Are you still living in Pedro? In Janet's house?"
"Yup. Nowhere else to go until someone buys it."
Nick closed his eyes, and his heart continued its slow burn. He thought of Cody, all alone in a pre-fabricated mausoleum. All those empty rooms, so far from the water. By himself. Smelling charred meat, Nick pushed himself up off the floor, hurrying to turn the burner off, carefully ignoring the sound of more ice cubes in a glass. He retrieved his forgotten beer from the counter and stirred the chicken, deep in thought.
"Nick?"
"Yeah, I'm here, man. What's the matter?"
Cody's voice got small. "You went quiet on me."
Nick's heart hurt. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just trying to deal with Ja--your ex-wife taking all my letters." He took a deep breath. "I tried so hard to reach you, and--Cody, when you didn't answer I thought you just didn't want me around, you know? I thought things were easier for you with me gone."
Three seconds later, his brain caught up with his mouth. Did you just call him 'baby'? it asked. Nick reached for the beer, finishing it in response.
"Nick," and he could hear Cody choosing the words carefully, "Nothing is easier with you gone. Never was. But it sure clears up a couple things I'd been wondering about."
Later, Nick would tell himself the beer made him bold. That the words he spoke next hadn't been rattling round his brain the entire time he'd been gone. "Cody, not a day's gone by I haven't thought of you. Haven't wondered how you're doing or if you think of me or miss me or..." Nick's brain finally caught up with his mouth and attempted to regain some semblance of control. "You know, man?"
The silence was so long, Nick began to believe they'd been cut off. Nick pulled another beer from the fridge and turned his back on the pan of half-cooked burnt chicken, watching mist wreath the bottle's opening. "Cody?"
"Nick, I..."
"Tell me, man. Please." Nick was whispering now.
The silence lengthened.
"It's not important."
Nick sat bolt upright against the wall. "Cody, right now everything's important. What did you want to tell me?"
"Nick..."
"Cody," Nick whispered, but the line went dead.
Nick sat on the floor in a corner of his kitchen and sobbed, dinner long since forgotten. Crying like he'd never known the act was possible, until everything hurt, until he had to pull himself up the cabinets and hang over the sink, shaking, before crawling into his too-wide empty bed, neck and heart equally sore.
Then he got up the next morning and took a shipment of high-end electronics to Costa Rica as if nothing had ever happened.
It became ritual, him and Cody, the phone calls. Somehow, without being told, Cody knew when he returned from a run, knew the nights he spent alone in the apartment, eating his heart out, waiting for the phone to ring.
"Nick?"
"I'm here, Cody. I'm here, baby. Talk to me."
Most of the phone calls were just two old friends catching up, shooting the shit, talking sports and cars and boats and nothing much. But at the same time every call brought them closer together, knit closed wounds too long open, until Nick began to feel like he had a chance at living again.
Nick began to live in the space between picking up the phone and hearing the relief in Cody's voice, the return of the guy he loved. At first it hurt to come alive again, and then, as the days passed, the spaces between the calls hurt worse.
---
Nick's eyes flicked with a constant practiced rhythm between the instrument panel of the big Chinook and the parched, mountainous Alameda basin, below. The 234LRs were steady, reliable beasts, huge and lumbering with no surprises. Not like the Sikorskys, with their temperamental pistons and their constant hunger for oil and gentle tinkering. Nick thought of Mimi, currently slumbering in a hangar in Fresno, waiting for him to have a spare weekend to figure out that noise in the rear rotor. He half-suspected it was a weak bearing in the tail joint, which translated into another fat chunk of change fed directly into Mimi's gaping maw.
Nick sighed, letting his eyes linger on the horizon, before beginning the descent. The San Leandro Hills appeared dim and hazy, whole the landscape lying under a blanket of smog. Another ten years, Nick bet they'd need to do these landings practically blind, what with--
A muffled thump shook the big chopper, followed by the shrill whine of metal grinding metal, and a wave of heat came up through the floor. Alarms went off all over the cockpit and the world tilted alarmingly.
Nick smelled smoke and oil. He barely had time to fight the memories off before everything stopped, and he dropped from the sky.
---
Helicopter crashes had gotten a lot more complicated since Nick had first started doing them twenty years ago. Back then, after you ran from the flaming debris, you all just sat around staring at each other, thankful to be alive. Then the shooting started. Nowadays, though, they didn't bother with the shooting. They just took you alive, chained with paperwork.
The floor outside the FAA inspector's office was scuffed and scratched and in one place dented, as if something hard had fallen on it from a great height. Leaning dazed and shaken against the carpeted wall, Nick saw none of it. Instead, he kept returning to the interview.
Mr Ryder, when you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought?
That had been a tough one. The correct answer, of course, was to gyro down, eyes glued to that sweet horizontal lifeline behind the safety glass, letting it tell you how the wind was blowing your rotor, how gravity was pulling at you as you fought, both hands on the stick, not to die in a fiery ball of metal and glass and hard, hard earth.
The correct answer was not I love you, Cody Allen, now and always. Not even if it was true--hell, especially not if it was true. Nick had managed not to say it out loud, at least. Had sat there, silent and morose as the inspector repeated the question, tapping one end of his regulation blue ballpoint pen on the table, staring. Waiting.
Well, I've waited twenty fucking years to tell the guy. Pal, you can wait a couple days until I get my head together, and then I'm sure I'll have a better answer for you about the fucking gyroscope. Nick continued to stare past the floor, unmindful of all the people passing to and fro, their eyes sliding over him, thinking hey, that poor shmuck's about to lose his license. Nick closed his eyes. In another few minutes, when the representative from AED Cargo arrives, this poor shmuck will be out of a job, too. But this poor shmuck's lucky to be alive, license or no license.
A set of quick, light footsteps approached and then stopped, right in front of him. "Nick?"
Nick opened his eyes. Cody stood in front of him, breathing hard. "Nick! Thank God you're alright."
Okay, I hit the ground harder than I thought. Nick tilted his head on one side. "Cody, what are you doing here?"
"The FAA called me, Nick. I guess I'm still your emergency contact. All they told me was you'd been in a crash at the San Leandro airfield. They wouldn't even tell me if you were okay, so, here I am. Thank god you're okay. You are okay, right?"
Nick looked at Cody's wide, blue eyes, as frantic with worry now as they'd been on any patrol or stakeout. The eyes he thought he'd never see again.
When you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought? Nick opened his mouth to speak and a wave of nausea passed through him.
Cody put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Nick?"
"Kinda," he managed.
Looking quickly both directions down the corridor, Cody grabbed Nick's hand and tugged him towards a fire exit.
"What are you doing?" Nick hissed. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"
Cody pushed the door open, kicking out a tiny wedge of plastic holding it open. "Picked the lock. Nick, I thought something had happened to you!"
Twenty or so responses died in his throat as Cody pulled him into the concrete stairwell. Mr. Ryder, when you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought?
Nick looked down at Cody's hand in his own. He looked back up, and into Cody's eyes. The eyes he'd seen in countless dreams. The ones that had peered, terrified, over his shoulder in a jungle half a world and two decades away. The ones he'd shared so many adventures with. The ones who'd looked in Janet's eyes and said 'I do,' right after they'd told him to get the hell off his boat.
Nick's stomach turned over, but he couldn't look away. "Cody," he began.
Cody dropped his hand, then placed both palms flat against Nick's chest, pushing him gently up against one wall of the stairwell, and pressed his lips firmly against Nick's own.
There were no words.
Cody's kiss was urgent and questing, and Nick sagged against the wall, the relief of it all too much for him to bear. Cody slid his arms around him like they'd always been there, then pulled back to nuzzle at him gently. Nick stared, wide-eyed, then leaned forwards and kissed Cody back, needing to feel those soft, sweet lips on his one more time, in case the first time had been a dream. Cody obliged, gentle yet sure. Nick clutched the front of Cody's leather jacket in both hands, eyes closed. Between that and the wall, he figured he had a chance at staying upright.
Right up until Cody murmured, "Let's go home, buddy." And nuzzled his cheek.
Nick let go, and fell.
---
They headed north up 101, to Nick's apartment in Foster City. The two-hour drive was interminable. Nick kept looking at Cody, catching his friend looking back, eyes aflame with the impossibility and the wonder and the sheer glorious terror of this thing they'd awoken.
On the way from the parking lot up the three flights of stairs, Nick reflected that it was starting to feel like old times. As they walked they touched: brushing fingertips, a hand in the small of the back, an arm around shoulders. It felt like things had finally been set to rights.
Except of course, everything had changed.
As soon as the door shut behind them, the urgency increased, quickly turning to desperation. They were both too eager to get to each other, to get skin on skin, mouths on everything. Nick barely had time to wonder how it would work before he knew exactly how. Cody pushed him down on the leather sofa, yanking his shirt over his head, scrabbling for the button of his jeans with unsteady hands, kissing him the whole time, tongue flicking over Nick's bottom lip.
Nick wrestled his hands free and managed to get them up to cradle his partner's head. "Cody," he managed, panting. "Cody, wait a minute."
Cody pulled back and fear and nervousness chased over his features. Nick pulled him back down for a long, smoldering kiss. "Love you, Cody. Love you so fucking much," he whispered.
Cody grinned, and Nick saw the years fall away in front of his eyes. What he and Cody had defied all the odds; it had stayed perfect and true, biding its time, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for now. "Love you too, buddy."
Nick slid his hands up under Cody's shirt, nearly overwhelmed by the feel of Cody's skin under his fingers, after imagining it for so many years. Groaning, he fumbled with Cody's belt until Cody pushed his hands away and squirmed himself up off the couch, shucking pants and--boxers? When had he switched to those?--before diving back down, making raw, greedy noises against Nick's body.
Nick arched as Cody's cock brushed his own, and the two of them fought to pull Nick's jeans and briefs past his thighs and off. It was insane and real and everything Nick had ever dreamed of.
Cody nuzzled Nick's cheek again, and Nick closed his eyes.
They began to move together, skin on skin, and Nick recognized the change in Cody's breathing; he'd heard it many times before, long ago: late at night in their stateroom he'd listened to Cody moving into his hand in his own bunk. Nick would lie awake, biting his lip, wondering what it would be like to help, to touch, to feel, until later he'd replay the scene in his head, moving in his own bunk, into his own hand.
Gingerly, Nick slid his hand down between them and the warmth of Cody's cock nearly ended everything right there. Nick hadn't expected the tip to be slick already, and experimentally he rubbed his thumb across the underside.
Cody moaned in his ear, bucking against him, a muscular thigh between his own, and the experience was so new yet so utterly known, Cody and him, together. Finally.
Nick came first. Cody licked softly at a spot just in front of his ear, the tip of his jawline, and it was all over. He held on tight, losing himself in Cody's eyes, his skin, the pleased, encouraging whispers in his ear.
And then Nick watched Cody. It was strange. He'd seen Cody in fear of his life or someone else's, hungover, grieving, bewildered and lying his ass off, but he'd never seen Cody come before.
When it happened, Nick nearly cried, seeing something so naked and perfect, and knowing it was just for him.
---
Nick woke late, opening his eyes to find the daylight fled, and only by searching for the sky through the long, narrow window set high in the wall was he able to determine that the green numbers on the bedside clock referred to the evening rather than the dawn.
Memories crowded in on him in a rush--the crash, the FAA office, the stairwell, the long drive back...and Cody. Him and Cody, on the couch, together...and then in the shower and at last, the bed. He reached for Cody with a trembling hand, skating his fingers along one slender, tanned arm. Cody's eyes flew open.
Neither of them said anything. They just stared, while nighttime city noises floated up from the street below.
Cody moved hesitantly away from Nick's touch with tiny subtle shiftings, but Nick grabbed him and hung on, reading his partner's mood as easily as he'd ever done. Cody was terrified, and trying to regain some semblance of control.
Nick had no intention of giving it to him. "Cody," he said throatily, "It's taken us twenty years to get to this point. Don't tell me you wanna go back. I don't think I know how, man. Please."
Cody sighed, then moved hesitantly closer, until he was pressed along Nick's side. He rubbed his forehead against Nick's temple, hard, almost angrily. "You left, Nick," Cody whispered and Nick heard all the hard years, all the lonely years in his voice.
Heart in his throat, Nick raised a hand to cup Cody's jaw, keeping the two of them close. "Only because you told me to, baby."
"Nick..."
Nick closed his eyes. "Tell me to stay this time, Cody. Tell me this is what you want."
"Promise me you won't leave."
"Promise me you won't tell me to."
Cody looked deep in Nick's eyes, and Nick saw a spark of fire there, a spark he recognized. Then Cody leaned in and kissed him, sweet and deep, and it was nothing he recognized, and everything he could ever imagine having wanted.
Nuzzling his cheek, Cody whispered, "How's that?"
"Felt like a promise to me," Nick murmured. He slid his hands down Cody's back, reveling at the feel of Cody's skin under his hands. "But maybe something got lost in translation."
"Mmm?" Cody'd begun nibbling at the edge of Nick's jaw, and Nick drew a breath in happily.
"Say it ag--" Nick began, at the same time Cody said, "I said--"
They looked at one another and said nothing and everything all at once, hands on skin, bodies entwined.
---
Nick's apartment was less than a cargo pilot could afford, but it was all he'd needed until now. A decent kitchen opening onto a living/dining room, with bathroom and bedroom through separate doors. He had the couch and some bookcases he'd spent too much time and energy making. A coffee table found by the side of the road, and a bed that didn't hurt his back too much, tv mounted on a thrift store table at the foot of it. Despite the sparse surroundings, Nick'd spent most of his downtime asleep in front of the tv there, or at the Crow Bar a couple blocks away, drinking and trying not to think of Cody. But now Cody was here, in his space, it was more than enough. It was certainly more space than they'd had aboard the boat.
Nick looked up from stirring the barbecue sauce he hadn't made in forever, while Cody leaned against the sink and watched hungrily, drinking one of Nick's beers. "I can't believe you still remember the recipe, Nick."
Nick turned the heat on the sauce as low as it would go and turned, taking Cody in his arms, nibbling and kissing.
Cody held the beer bottle to one side and returned Nick's attentions with fervor. The two of them smiled at each other in pleased recognition, then Nick tore himself away to stop the sauce from burning. His smiled widened as Cody slid his arms around him from behind and nuzzled Nick's jaw some more. It turned out Cody Allen was a cuddler. Nick couldn't have been more pleased.
Cody dipped a finger in the sauce and brought it to his mouth with an appreciative murmur. Nick tried for a glare.
Cody shrugged back. "Guess I couldn't wait. I can't remember being this hungry in years."
"You gonna leave any in the pan for the ribs, baby?"
Cody scooped out another fingerful. "Mm-mm." He shook his head.
Nick laughed. The only ribs he really cared about were the ones too close under Cody's skin. He'd make as many batches of barbecue sauce as Cody would eat and love doing it. "Excellent. 'Cause you're gonna need your strength."
Cody's expression turned wolfish and he began chewing on Nick's earlobe with a pleased, anticipatory growl, pressing his sauce-covered finger to Nick's lips.
Nick chuckled and kissed Cody's sticky fingertip. "Mm. Not just that. Tomorrow, I thought we'd head back down the coast."
Cody stiffened against Nick's back, then started to pull away.
"I missed our boat," Nick said carefully. "So I made a call. Figured she missed the ocean as much as you did." He turned the heat off below the sauce and turned, capturing Cody in his arms. "They'll have her on the water at three o'clock tomorrow."
Cody stared, silent. Nick regarded his expression thoughtfully. "You coming with me?" he teased. "Or do I have to pump the engines out all by myself? I don't have a nail gun here, but I'm sure we can fix you to that bollard somehow. I mean, you did--"
Cody claimed Nick's mouth, kissing him long and hard, and all thoughts fled. There was still the moment of disbelief for Nick, every time their lips met, but it was quickly overwhelmed by sensation and heat. Each time it became easier to believe this was real, this was true.
The sauce was cold in the pan and Nick had to make another batch before they finally got their dinner.
Rating: R
Summary: What if Cody had chosen Janet?
Nick sat on the edge of the vinyl seat in May's on Sixth, elbows balanced on the scarred diner tabletop, staring at Cody. Here at the edge of a cold, damp wharf in Seattle, miles from anywhere either of them would have been on the lookout for each other, he'd run into the one guy he'd spent the last five years trying to forget. A nine-hour layover in this anonymous, grey city should have been safe. Instead, Nick thought, looking down at the dark, hot coffee in front of him, here they were, sitting and having coffee and not saying a goddamn word to one another.
He snuck another peek at Cody, who looked quickly down at his own cup.
Damn. Five years had really changed the guy. The mustache was gone, along with much of Cody's youthful exuberance, and his hair, once unruly and straw-colored, smelling of sand and sun, was slicked back neatly and starting to show gray. But more than that, at forty Cody looked haunted, unwell. He'd lost weight and his cheeks had taken on a hollow look that highlighted the bruised circles under his blue eyes. Nick couldn't shake the feeling that his best friend, the guy he'd loved for too many years to count, was dying right in front of his eyes.
Nick gripped the mug tightly, focusing on the burn of hot ceramic against his calloused palms. He tried to stop wondering what Cody's hair smelled like now.
Cody cleared his throat. "I suppose I should ask you how you've been, right? Isn't that how these things go?"
Nick closed his eyes. "You do that, Cody, I guarantee I'm gonna run out of here like there's a snake up my ass. Look, you've got two minutes to say whatever the fuck you want to me, then I'm gone, Cody. You hear me? Gone. Just like you were."
"Nick, that's not fair."
Nick's eyes flew open. "Not fair? Not fair, pal, is having your best friend dump you for the black-hearted reptile of an ex-girlfriend you spent ten years warning him about. Not fair is having to walk away from your business, your livelihood, your fucking home, and spending five years scrambling for every dime--and then, Cody, just when you think you might one day take a breath without feeling like your balls are still being kicked up into your throat, you choose the wrong fucking diner to have one lousy cup of midnight coffee in!"
The three other patrons in the place looked up from their plates of cold grease hash. Nick waved and gave them a weary smile. "It's great coffee, really. Just great."
With weary citydweller stares, the other patrons went back to their meals. Cody drew a nervous breath. "I guess I deserved that, Nick."
Shrugging, Nick took a sip of coffee. It burned his tongue and he grimaced, setting the cup back down on the worn pink melamine table. "Nah, you didn't deserve that, Cody. I'm just--look, I'm tired, okay? I flew a couple more routes than I should've this week and," he put a hand to the back of his neck, eyes squeezed shut, "you know how I get after a couple days of no sleep."
"Yeah, I do know, Nick. Neck still bothering you?"
Nick froze, and dropped his hand guiltily.
An uncomfortable silence descended on their table. Fog pressed against the filmed diner windows, turned to a shimmer of neon-reflecting bubbles on the glass. Out on the water, a foghorn warned of sharp rocks ahead. A heavyset, gray-stubbled man in thick, worn wool and a watch cap headed for the cash register. He didn't look at Nick and Cody, but both of them tracked his progress to the counter without seeming to. Bells on the front door jingled as he left.
"I fucked up," Cody said eventually.
"Oh yeah? How'd you do that? By running off with the girl of your dreams? By taking the second chance life gave you to have everything you ever wanted? Sounds to me like you didn't fuck up one bit, pal."
"I thought that was what I wanted, Nick, but then after you left, I realized...Nick, life with you was..."
"Was what, Cody? Easier than living with a woman whose hobbies include kicking puppies and stealing ice cream from orphans?"
Cody's eyes widened and Nick scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Cody, I didn't mean that."
Cody gave him a look.
"Well okay, okay, I did mean it, I just shouldn't have said it out loud. Tell Janet I hope she's doing well. I hope you both are. I'll look you up next time I'm in town. We can have a barbecue." Nick leaned back in the booth and fished in his pocket for a wad of crumpled bills. Tossing it on the table, Nick unfolded himself from the booth, vinyl squeaking under his jeanclad thighs.
"Janet and I don't talk so much since the divorce," Cody said softly. He didn't look up.
Nick stood for a second next to the table, eyes wide. All the frustration he'd felt earlier, all the panicked rage that had swamped him when Cody first appeared at his table, dissipated like fog rolling out to sea. He hated the pained lines etched on Cody's face, and he hated himself for ever letting the guy out of his sight. Whatever choices they'd both made in the past, Nick couldn't walk away now.
After a few moments, he sat back down with a long exhalation. He nearly reached across the table to take Cody's hand, but remembered himself in time. "Wanna talk about it?"
---
Things went okay at first, Cody told him. Janet kept her promise, moved down to King Harbor and onto the Riptide, and everyone loved her, right off the bat. Well, except for Mama Jo, who stopped speaking to both of them. But other than that things went really well. And then...it was just little things at first. Like Murray shorting out the electrical system with the Roboz while Janet was trying to reconcile all her monthly receivables. That didn't go over too well. And the time Dooley set the galley on fire. And of course, there was the time Arnie and his fish-finder honed in on Janet. Who was not a fish, and was also not really dressed at the time.
"Oh, and she and Joanna didn't get along at all," Cody said.
"You don't say." Nick kept his voice carefully neutral.
All in all, living aboard the Riptide lasted all of eight months, then Janet decided she'd be more comfortable in one of the big new houses in Pedro, closer to downtown. Cody'd fought her on it, but her mind was made up, and once Janet made up her mind, nothing short of a nuclear bomb could change it. So he gave in, and they picked out a nice pre-fab four-bedroom.
"When'd they put those in?" Nick interrupted. "And where?"
"Let's see, must be four years ago, easy. They put this whole big development in where the old Baumgarten's used to be, and the bowling alley, and Wiener World. That whole strip."
"They knocked down Wiener World? Aw man..."
"Yeah, that whole area of the downtown's gone now, buddy. The whole place is huge now, houses for miles. You should see it, Nick, it's incredible. It's a whole different place."
"I'll have to do that sometime, Cody."
"You mean you haven't been back there? Not since the..."
Neither of them spoke, not wanting to revisit the awful day Nick had left, the names they'd called each other, the things they'd both said that couldn't, as it turned out, be unsaid afterwards.
They looked at one another across the table, then Nick shook his head slowly. The uncomfortable silence threatened to return, hovering at the edge of the table, waiting to push them even farther apart. Cody cleared his throat again and continued with his story.
He'd tried hard to be happy living on land. It made Janet happy, so that should have made him happy, or at least less worried about their future together. But the little things continued to pile up, becoming bigger things. Hard, undealable things. Cody started drinking a little, and so did Janet, and things continued to get tossed on the pile: fights, staying late at work, out all night with the girls, that sort of thing.
The straw that broke the Riptide's back, so to speak, was when Cody came home one day to be greeted not by his smiling wife with a martini in one hand, but by the sight of Wade from Sales, whose naked ass was bobbing around in Cody's bed, on top of his wife. Who was, as it happened, smiling.
"After the last time, Nick, she told me she wouldn't do it again. I mean, how could I trust her after that?"
"Wait a minute, Cody. Exactly how many times did Janet cheat on you?"
"If we're not counting the Christmas party in Tucson--"
"Oh let's, just for argument's sake."
"Fine. Counting the Christmas party in Tucson, Wade was...number four?"
Nick stared at Cody, wide-eyed. "You let her get away with it three times before you left her?"
"Actually, she left me. She and Wade have two kids, I think. Last I heard, she'd been promoted and he'd decided to stay at home with them."
Nick shook his head and finished his coffee. "Women's libbers," he muttered. He signaled for a refill. "So," he said finally, "where is she?"
"I just told you. Tucson. With Wade."
"No, not her," Nick answered. "The Riptide. You two moved out, Murray's in Santa Barbara, but what happened to our--uh, I mean--"
"Drydock in Pasadena."
"Aw come on, man." Nick slapped the table, and the dish of creamers between them jumped. "You took her out of the water?"
Cody stared. "What was I supposed to do, Nick? You said it yourself: Murray was in Santa Barbara, Janet and I were living in Pedro--"
"--with Wade and his Christmas party--"
"--and the slip rental fees just kept going up--"
"--as opposed to drydock storage fees, which I've heard are quite reasonable."
"Listen, Nick, you're the one who's not being reasonable. You left, remember? You took that big pink rustbucket and just took off."
"Hey, you leave the Mimi out of this, okay? This is about you and Janet and Wade and the Riptide. A boat I helped you restore, remember? And, the way I remember it, your contributions to the process were one, dropping a hacksaw on your foot, two, nailing yourself to the forward bollard, which I still don't understand how you managed, and three, drinking all the beer and telling me how I was fixing her all wrong." Nick counted on his fingers as he went. He leaned forward across the table. "And then after all that time we spent on her, and after throwing me out, you drydocked her for Janet?"
Cody groaned. "I knew this was a mistake. I knew it as soon as I saw you through the window. I knew if I came in here, nothing would have changed. We'd just pick up fighting where we left off five years ago."
Nick toyed with one of the creamers, eyes thoughtful. "Cody," he said, "how long were you watching me?"
Cody sat up straighter on his side of the booth, looking mildly alarmed. The timely appearance of their waitress saved him from having to answer.
"You rang, your highness? Willing to subject yourself to another cup of 'lousy midnight coffee'? How gracious you are." All five-foot-six of Angie, as the nametag read, radiated attitude and Aqua Net in equal measures, and she held the coffeepot like a weapon.
Nick tried for charming. "Look, I'm sorry about that, about earlier? Jeesh. I was just having a real bad day, and--"
Across the table, Cody grinned at Nick's discomfort.
"--and here, why don't you take these as my apology--" Nick picked up the wad of bills he'd tossed on the table earlier and handed them to her. "--and I would dearly love another cup of coffee, if there's any available, okay? No hard feelings?"
Angie cracked her gum, and made no response. After a few seconds she grudgingly poured Nick another cup of coffee. She gave him the gimlet eye for a few seconds after that, then walked away, gunboat white sneakers squeaking across the tiles.
Cody chuckled, his eyes on Nick. "Still got a way with the ladies, I see."
Nick shook his head. "Yeah right. I've got a couple of exes who might disagree with you there, man."
Cody's laughter died away. "A couple of exes, huh? Any not-exes?"
"Not-exes? As in, am I seeing anyone right now? No Cody, I'm not. Turns out not many women want to be in a relationship with a guy who spends all his time either in or under a chopper."
"Flying cargo again?"
Nick shrugged. "It pays the bills." He sighed and resettled against the smooth plastic of the booth. "How 'bout you?"
"Nah, Nick, I never learned to fly. I'm still a water guy."
Nick stared. "No genius, I meant, are you seeing anyone right now?"
"Nope. After Janet, I got a little gun shy, and I haven't really..." Cody cleared his throat again, brightening. "I'm still a PI, though, Nick. Got my license in Oregon and Washington, too. I'm actually up here on a case."
Nick smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose I should ask you how that's going, right? Isn't that how these things go?"
Cody's face fell, taking Nick's heart with it.
"Maybe this was a bad idea," Cody said softly. "I should probably go."
"No--don't, look Cody, don't go, okay?" Nick bit his lip, willing the words to come. "It's just hard, you know? Running into you like this, sitting here talking just like old times. Talking like we're just two old friends who happened to wind up in the same place at the same time, and not..." Nick's voice trailed off, turning to a frustrated growl. He stared determinedly at the tabletop, then fixed steady, determined eyes on his former partner. "You know, Cody, I've thought about you every single day since I left. Every day, man." Nick shook his head. "I've spent the last five years trying to forget how good it was to be with you, how good we had it. And," Nick broke off, choking on the words. "I can't, you know? I just can't." He cleared his throat. "Cody, I've looked for your face in every airport, every bar, every garage, every hangar. I've spent so long, so long hoping I'd run into you again, trying to figure out what I'd say if I just had one more chance."
Nick stared at Cody, hoping for some sign, something to show that Cody understood what he was trying to say. But Cody was staring fixedly at a cigarette burn on the tabletop, clasping the coffee cup loosely in both hands. Nick took a deep breath and continued.
"Cody, you know this had nothing to do with, oh god, what were their names, those two clients from San Diego, the ones with the pollution lawsuit and the cousin, you know, the one with cancer? That was just...Cody, they were just a convenient excuse. I couldn't take it anymore, hearing you on the phone all the time, making plans with Janet for her visits. Having you gone all the time visiting her. I just couldn't..." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nick tried to keep his voice under control. "I couldn't face losing you, Cody. Living with you, working with you, that life we had back then, that was everything I ever wanted. Finding out you didn't want it, too. Man, that was..." Nick made a whistling noise. "I can't tell you what that felt like."
Cody looked down at the tabletop for what felt like an eternity. "The Wassermans," he said in a low voice. "They sued Ikon Pharmaceuticals on behalf of their daughter, Tara. Those samples we obtained from the main processing plant sealed their case, and Ikon had to pay up $1.7 million. Three months later, Tara was dead."
"How did that make it okay for you to throw me out?"
"Nick, I didn't throw you out! You left!"
"You made it clear who you'd chosen, Cody."
"Who I'd chosen? Nick, what was I supposed to do? Janet wanted a second chance and I--I..."
"You wanted it too," Nick finished softly. "But there's no room for three people in a relationship."
"What's that supposed to mean? Nick..." Cody toyed with the silverware with shaking hands. "Nick, you didn't have to leave."
Nick supposed they could go on like this for hours. They had in the past, that was for sure. Until they'd gotten better at getting under each other's skin than just about anything else.
"It doesn't matter, Cody. Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out for you and her, and..." Nick stopped, unsure what he should say next. All the things he really wanted to say--I love you, I've always loved you, seeing you like this is killing me, why the fuck did you pick this diner, Cody Allen--didn't seem like they'd improve the situation any.
"Look, Cody, I don't know how you--"
"I wanna keep in touch."
"What?" Nick hadn't seen that coming. At all.
"Nick, I don't want you disappearing out of my life again."
"But you--"
"Please, Nick," Cody whispered.
A huge alarm went off in the back of Nick's head, warning that things could never be like they used to, that this was just a stopgap measure until Cody found Janet Mark II, and that he'd just get his heart broken over and over again. But looking at Cody's haunted eyes, Nick knew that was infinitely preferable from walking out into the cold Seattle night, leaving his best friend at the mercy of his demons.
Nick sighed and shook his head, pulling his cellphone out of a jacket pocket. Besides, he never had been able to tell the guy no.
They settled the tab and wandered out to the parking lot, carefully not touching along the way. One of Cody's leather loafers sank into the mother-of-pearl shine of an oilslick puddle on the tarmac, shattering the reflections of the parking lot lights, setting them shimmering.
"Cody..."
Cody turned and grabbed Nick roughly, an arm around his shoulders, just like old times. Nick closed his eyes and slipped his arms around Cody's too-skinny ribcage. He'd spent so long fighting off all the feelings that flooded in whenever Cody'd touched him that they burst through his self-preservation and Nick breathed deep against his former partner's neck, remembering how it felt to be alive.
It hurt like hell.
"Nick," Cody whispered against his neck. "You're gonna call me, right, buddy?"
Nick held on tight, the words turned to puffs of air under his collar. "You can count on it, big guy."
Cody's hands tightened on his back, searching for...something under the worn flight jacket. Then Cody pulled away, his quickly retreating form making for a big American car in the last row, all the way to the right, away from the lights. Nick watched, heart in his throat, as Cody became again a shadow, returning to the land of his dreams.
And once the car was gone, Nick was left standing there motionless, frozen, listening to the harsh, muted roar of the ocean against the pier. He stood until the cold seeped under his jacket, snaking up under his chest, pushing. Pushing.
---
Nick waited three days to call.
At first he hadn't wanted to seem too eager, and then he'd worried he'd seemed disinterested, and the two factions collided in his brain, gnawing at him until he'd opened a beer, drank half in one gulp and told everyone in his head to shut the fuck up while he dialed Cody's number.
It was answered on the second ring.
"Nick?"
"Cody?"
And then it was just like old times. The two of them bouncing off each other, their thoughts entwined too surely to be just friends, but the territory they covered studded with landmines from the past.
Nick pulled some chicken from the fridge, dispensing with the plastic, dumping the whole in a frying pan with fresh garlic and chopped onions. "How's the PI business treating you?"
"Aw, you know how it is, Nick. Some months are better than others. I got that guy in Seattle, though."
"You did?" Nick turned on the gas burner. "Nice going, man."
Cody snorted. "It pays this month's bills, pal. That's about it."
Nick pulled a saute pan out of a cabinet, returning to the fridge for butter. "Hey Cody, can I ask you something?" He dropped a wedge of butter over the rapidly heating edge, pushing the week's mail farther from the spitting heat.
"Anything, Nick. You know that."
The butter turned a lazy brown under Nick's watchful eye, and a nutty aroma filled his senses. "That PI thing really paying the bills for you, Cody?"
"This month, sure, Nick. Other months...you know how it is."
"Yeah, tell me about it. So...you got anything else in the works? You know, for the months it doesn't quite, you know what I'm saying." The phone balanced between ear and shoulder, Nick grabbed a spatula, his other hand lifting a mug of lukewarm coffee, beer forgotten.
Cody took a deep and audible breath. "Well, there's the male modeling, of course."
Nick dropped his mug on the floor, where it shattered. He fumbled with the phone and swore, coffee soaking the bottoms of his jeans. Nick began searching his tiny apartment for a dustpan and brush, phone still safely wedged between jaw and shoulder. "Did you say 'male modeling' Cody?"
His partner chuckled. "Would it help to know that's the same reaction my mother had?"
"No Cody, I can't say it would." Nick turned the heat down under the chicken, then crouched and began sweeping up the shards of wet porcelain. "'Male modeling'? Like what, the new fall line of sports jackets for Spiegel or..."
"Or what?"
"You know."
"So you think I'm a porn star now, Nick?"
Nick toed the last of the broken ceramics against a piece of junkmail, the broom oversized and clumsy in his hands. "You're the one who said it, pal." An ominous silence descended and Nick plowed right through it. "Come on, Cody, out with it. How much did you take off?"
Cody chuckled. "Times've changed, Nick. Turns out I'm more of a mature attraction than a beach bunny. They just had me looking pensive and concerned in a ton of different slacks and button-ups. No Speedos were offered."
The image of Cody in a Speedo appeared to Nick unbidden and he cut his finger on a remaining shard. Sucking gently at the cut, he continued. "And if they had been?"
"Well, it would've been a different conversation. Look Nick, I don't know if you've tried the PI business lately, but it's gotten kind of lean, pal. Getting harder and harder to pay the bills."
Nick thought for a second, finger still in his mouth. "Wait, what d'you mean you don't know if I've tried it? Didn't you get my letters?"
There was a long pause.
"What letters?"
Nick fell on his ass with a thump, leaning against the oven door. His heart burned in his chest like a dying ember and he closed his eyes, weary beyond measure. "Cody," he said slowly, "I've sent you a letter every month since you--since we...how many have you gotten?"
"Not a one, buddy. I thought you just, you just needed some time to think."
"Five years? No one needs to think for five years, Cody. Look," Nick ignored the ominous sizzling coming from the pan of chicken above him. "Cody, I thought you knew. Those letters, they--"
"Explained everything?" There was a clink of ice cubes in a heavy glass. "Somehow, I'm not surprised they didn't get here."
"Cody, man...I don't know what to say."
"I do. I'm gonna kill her. Once this house sells--"
"Wait a minute, Cody, wait. Are you still living in Pedro? In Janet's house?"
"Yup. Nowhere else to go until someone buys it."
Nick closed his eyes, and his heart continued its slow burn. He thought of Cody, all alone in a pre-fabricated mausoleum. All those empty rooms, so far from the water. By himself. Smelling charred meat, Nick pushed himself up off the floor, hurrying to turn the burner off, carefully ignoring the sound of more ice cubes in a glass. He retrieved his forgotten beer from the counter and stirred the chicken, deep in thought.
"Nick?"
"Yeah, I'm here, man. What's the matter?"
Cody's voice got small. "You went quiet on me."
Nick's heart hurt. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just trying to deal with Ja--your ex-wife taking all my letters." He took a deep breath. "I tried so hard to reach you, and--Cody, when you didn't answer I thought you just didn't want me around, you know? I thought things were easier for you with me gone."
Three seconds later, his brain caught up with his mouth. Did you just call him 'baby'? it asked. Nick reached for the beer, finishing it in response.
"Nick," and he could hear Cody choosing the words carefully, "Nothing is easier with you gone. Never was. But it sure clears up a couple things I'd been wondering about."
Later, Nick would tell himself the beer made him bold. That the words he spoke next hadn't been rattling round his brain the entire time he'd been gone. "Cody, not a day's gone by I haven't thought of you. Haven't wondered how you're doing or if you think of me or miss me or..." Nick's brain finally caught up with his mouth and attempted to regain some semblance of control. "You know, man?"
The silence was so long, Nick began to believe they'd been cut off. Nick pulled another beer from the fridge and turned his back on the pan of half-cooked burnt chicken, watching mist wreath the bottle's opening. "Cody?"
"Nick, I..."
"Tell me, man. Please." Nick was whispering now.
The silence lengthened.
"It's not important."
Nick sat bolt upright against the wall. "Cody, right now everything's important. What did you want to tell me?"
"Nick..."
"Cody," Nick whispered, but the line went dead.
Nick sat on the floor in a corner of his kitchen and sobbed, dinner long since forgotten. Crying like he'd never known the act was possible, until everything hurt, until he had to pull himself up the cabinets and hang over the sink, shaking, before crawling into his too-wide empty bed, neck and heart equally sore.
Then he got up the next morning and took a shipment of high-end electronics to Costa Rica as if nothing had ever happened.
It became ritual, him and Cody, the phone calls. Somehow, without being told, Cody knew when he returned from a run, knew the nights he spent alone in the apartment, eating his heart out, waiting for the phone to ring.
"Nick?"
"I'm here, Cody. I'm here, baby. Talk to me."
Most of the phone calls were just two old friends catching up, shooting the shit, talking sports and cars and boats and nothing much. But at the same time every call brought them closer together, knit closed wounds too long open, until Nick began to feel like he had a chance at living again.
Nick began to live in the space between picking up the phone and hearing the relief in Cody's voice, the return of the guy he loved. At first it hurt to come alive again, and then, as the days passed, the spaces between the calls hurt worse.
---
Nick's eyes flicked with a constant practiced rhythm between the instrument panel of the big Chinook and the parched, mountainous Alameda basin, below. The 234LRs were steady, reliable beasts, huge and lumbering with no surprises. Not like the Sikorskys, with their temperamental pistons and their constant hunger for oil and gentle tinkering. Nick thought of Mimi, currently slumbering in a hangar in Fresno, waiting for him to have a spare weekend to figure out that noise in the rear rotor. He half-suspected it was a weak bearing in the tail joint, which translated into another fat chunk of change fed directly into Mimi's gaping maw.
Nick sighed, letting his eyes linger on the horizon, before beginning the descent. The San Leandro Hills appeared dim and hazy, whole the landscape lying under a blanket of smog. Another ten years, Nick bet they'd need to do these landings practically blind, what with--
A muffled thump shook the big chopper, followed by the shrill whine of metal grinding metal, and a wave of heat came up through the floor. Alarms went off all over the cockpit and the world tilted alarmingly.
Nick smelled smoke and oil. He barely had time to fight the memories off before everything stopped, and he dropped from the sky.
---
Helicopter crashes had gotten a lot more complicated since Nick had first started doing them twenty years ago. Back then, after you ran from the flaming debris, you all just sat around staring at each other, thankful to be alive. Then the shooting started. Nowadays, though, they didn't bother with the shooting. They just took you alive, chained with paperwork.
The floor outside the FAA inspector's office was scuffed and scratched and in one place dented, as if something hard had fallen on it from a great height. Leaning dazed and shaken against the carpeted wall, Nick saw none of it. Instead, he kept returning to the interview.
Mr Ryder, when you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought?
That had been a tough one. The correct answer, of course, was to gyro down, eyes glued to that sweet horizontal lifeline behind the safety glass, letting it tell you how the wind was blowing your rotor, how gravity was pulling at you as you fought, both hands on the stick, not to die in a fiery ball of metal and glass and hard, hard earth.
The correct answer was not I love you, Cody Allen, now and always. Not even if it was true--hell, especially not if it was true. Nick had managed not to say it out loud, at least. Had sat there, silent and morose as the inspector repeated the question, tapping one end of his regulation blue ballpoint pen on the table, staring. Waiting.
Well, I've waited twenty fucking years to tell the guy. Pal, you can wait a couple days until I get my head together, and then I'm sure I'll have a better answer for you about the fucking gyroscope. Nick continued to stare past the floor, unmindful of all the people passing to and fro, their eyes sliding over him, thinking hey, that poor shmuck's about to lose his license. Nick closed his eyes. In another few minutes, when the representative from AED Cargo arrives, this poor shmuck will be out of a job, too. But this poor shmuck's lucky to be alive, license or no license.
A set of quick, light footsteps approached and then stopped, right in front of him. "Nick?"
Nick opened his eyes. Cody stood in front of him, breathing hard. "Nick! Thank God you're alright."
Okay, I hit the ground harder than I thought. Nick tilted his head on one side. "Cody, what are you doing here?"
"The FAA called me, Nick. I guess I'm still your emergency contact. All they told me was you'd been in a crash at the San Leandro airfield. They wouldn't even tell me if you were okay, so, here I am. Thank god you're okay. You are okay, right?"
Nick looked at Cody's wide, blue eyes, as frantic with worry now as they'd been on any patrol or stakeout. The eyes he thought he'd never see again.
When you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought? Nick opened his mouth to speak and a wave of nausea passed through him.
Cody put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Nick?"
"Kinda," he managed.
Looking quickly both directions down the corridor, Cody grabbed Nick's hand and tugged him towards a fire exit.
"What are you doing?" Nick hissed. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"
Cody pushed the door open, kicking out a tiny wedge of plastic holding it open. "Picked the lock. Nick, I thought something had happened to you!"
Twenty or so responses died in his throat as Cody pulled him into the concrete stairwell. Mr. Ryder, when you realized you had lost all control of the chopper, what was your first thought?
Nick looked down at Cody's hand in his own. He looked back up, and into Cody's eyes. The eyes he'd seen in countless dreams. The ones that had peered, terrified, over his shoulder in a jungle half a world and two decades away. The ones he'd shared so many adventures with. The ones who'd looked in Janet's eyes and said 'I do,' right after they'd told him to get the hell off his boat.
Nick's stomach turned over, but he couldn't look away. "Cody," he began.
Cody dropped his hand, then placed both palms flat against Nick's chest, pushing him gently up against one wall of the stairwell, and pressed his lips firmly against Nick's own.
There were no words.
Cody's kiss was urgent and questing, and Nick sagged against the wall, the relief of it all too much for him to bear. Cody slid his arms around him like they'd always been there, then pulled back to nuzzle at him gently. Nick stared, wide-eyed, then leaned forwards and kissed Cody back, needing to feel those soft, sweet lips on his one more time, in case the first time had been a dream. Cody obliged, gentle yet sure. Nick clutched the front of Cody's leather jacket in both hands, eyes closed. Between that and the wall, he figured he had a chance at staying upright.
Right up until Cody murmured, "Let's go home, buddy." And nuzzled his cheek.
Nick let go, and fell.
---
They headed north up 101, to Nick's apartment in Foster City. The two-hour drive was interminable. Nick kept looking at Cody, catching his friend looking back, eyes aflame with the impossibility and the wonder and the sheer glorious terror of this thing they'd awoken.
On the way from the parking lot up the three flights of stairs, Nick reflected that it was starting to feel like old times. As they walked they touched: brushing fingertips, a hand in the small of the back, an arm around shoulders. It felt like things had finally been set to rights.
Except of course, everything had changed.
As soon as the door shut behind them, the urgency increased, quickly turning to desperation. They were both too eager to get to each other, to get skin on skin, mouths on everything. Nick barely had time to wonder how it would work before he knew exactly how. Cody pushed him down on the leather sofa, yanking his shirt over his head, scrabbling for the button of his jeans with unsteady hands, kissing him the whole time, tongue flicking over Nick's bottom lip.
Nick wrestled his hands free and managed to get them up to cradle his partner's head. "Cody," he managed, panting. "Cody, wait a minute."
Cody pulled back and fear and nervousness chased over his features. Nick pulled him back down for a long, smoldering kiss. "Love you, Cody. Love you so fucking much," he whispered.
Cody grinned, and Nick saw the years fall away in front of his eyes. What he and Cody had defied all the odds; it had stayed perfect and true, biding its time, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for now. "Love you too, buddy."
Nick slid his hands up under Cody's shirt, nearly overwhelmed by the feel of Cody's skin under his fingers, after imagining it for so many years. Groaning, he fumbled with Cody's belt until Cody pushed his hands away and squirmed himself up off the couch, shucking pants and--boxers? When had he switched to those?--before diving back down, making raw, greedy noises against Nick's body.
Nick arched as Cody's cock brushed his own, and the two of them fought to pull Nick's jeans and briefs past his thighs and off. It was insane and real and everything Nick had ever dreamed of.
Cody nuzzled Nick's cheek again, and Nick closed his eyes.
They began to move together, skin on skin, and Nick recognized the change in Cody's breathing; he'd heard it many times before, long ago: late at night in their stateroom he'd listened to Cody moving into his hand in his own bunk. Nick would lie awake, biting his lip, wondering what it would be like to help, to touch, to feel, until later he'd replay the scene in his head, moving in his own bunk, into his own hand.
Gingerly, Nick slid his hand down between them and the warmth of Cody's cock nearly ended everything right there. Nick hadn't expected the tip to be slick already, and experimentally he rubbed his thumb across the underside.
Cody moaned in his ear, bucking against him, a muscular thigh between his own, and the experience was so new yet so utterly known, Cody and him, together. Finally.
Nick came first. Cody licked softly at a spot just in front of his ear, the tip of his jawline, and it was all over. He held on tight, losing himself in Cody's eyes, his skin, the pleased, encouraging whispers in his ear.
And then Nick watched Cody. It was strange. He'd seen Cody in fear of his life or someone else's, hungover, grieving, bewildered and lying his ass off, but he'd never seen Cody come before.
When it happened, Nick nearly cried, seeing something so naked and perfect, and knowing it was just for him.
---
Nick woke late, opening his eyes to find the daylight fled, and only by searching for the sky through the long, narrow window set high in the wall was he able to determine that the green numbers on the bedside clock referred to the evening rather than the dawn.
Memories crowded in on him in a rush--the crash, the FAA office, the stairwell, the long drive back...and Cody. Him and Cody, on the couch, together...and then in the shower and at last, the bed. He reached for Cody with a trembling hand, skating his fingers along one slender, tanned arm. Cody's eyes flew open.
Neither of them said anything. They just stared, while nighttime city noises floated up from the street below.
Cody moved hesitantly away from Nick's touch with tiny subtle shiftings, but Nick grabbed him and hung on, reading his partner's mood as easily as he'd ever done. Cody was terrified, and trying to regain some semblance of control.
Nick had no intention of giving it to him. "Cody," he said throatily, "It's taken us twenty years to get to this point. Don't tell me you wanna go back. I don't think I know how, man. Please."
Cody sighed, then moved hesitantly closer, until he was pressed along Nick's side. He rubbed his forehead against Nick's temple, hard, almost angrily. "You left, Nick," Cody whispered and Nick heard all the hard years, all the lonely years in his voice.
Heart in his throat, Nick raised a hand to cup Cody's jaw, keeping the two of them close. "Only because you told me to, baby."
"Nick..."
Nick closed his eyes. "Tell me to stay this time, Cody. Tell me this is what you want."
"Promise me you won't leave."
"Promise me you won't tell me to."
Cody looked deep in Nick's eyes, and Nick saw a spark of fire there, a spark he recognized. Then Cody leaned in and kissed him, sweet and deep, and it was nothing he recognized, and everything he could ever imagine having wanted.
Nuzzling his cheek, Cody whispered, "How's that?"
"Felt like a promise to me," Nick murmured. He slid his hands down Cody's back, reveling at the feel of Cody's skin under his hands. "But maybe something got lost in translation."
"Mmm?" Cody'd begun nibbling at the edge of Nick's jaw, and Nick drew a breath in happily.
"Say it ag--" Nick began, at the same time Cody said, "I said--"
They looked at one another and said nothing and everything all at once, hands on skin, bodies entwined.
---
Nick's apartment was less than a cargo pilot could afford, but it was all he'd needed until now. A decent kitchen opening onto a living/dining room, with bathroom and bedroom through separate doors. He had the couch and some bookcases he'd spent too much time and energy making. A coffee table found by the side of the road, and a bed that didn't hurt his back too much, tv mounted on a thrift store table at the foot of it. Despite the sparse surroundings, Nick'd spent most of his downtime asleep in front of the tv there, or at the Crow Bar a couple blocks away, drinking and trying not to think of Cody. But now Cody was here, in his space, it was more than enough. It was certainly more space than they'd had aboard the boat.
Nick looked up from stirring the barbecue sauce he hadn't made in forever, while Cody leaned against the sink and watched hungrily, drinking one of Nick's beers. "I can't believe you still remember the recipe, Nick."
Nick turned the heat on the sauce as low as it would go and turned, taking Cody in his arms, nibbling and kissing.
Cody held the beer bottle to one side and returned Nick's attentions with fervor. The two of them smiled at each other in pleased recognition, then Nick tore himself away to stop the sauce from burning. His smiled widened as Cody slid his arms around him from behind and nuzzled Nick's jaw some more. It turned out Cody Allen was a cuddler. Nick couldn't have been more pleased.
Cody dipped a finger in the sauce and brought it to his mouth with an appreciative murmur. Nick tried for a glare.
Cody shrugged back. "Guess I couldn't wait. I can't remember being this hungry in years."
"You gonna leave any in the pan for the ribs, baby?"
Cody scooped out another fingerful. "Mm-mm." He shook his head.
Nick laughed. The only ribs he really cared about were the ones too close under Cody's skin. He'd make as many batches of barbecue sauce as Cody would eat and love doing it. "Excellent. 'Cause you're gonna need your strength."
Cody's expression turned wolfish and he began chewing on Nick's earlobe with a pleased, anticipatory growl, pressing his sauce-covered finger to Nick's lips.
Nick chuckled and kissed Cody's sticky fingertip. "Mm. Not just that. Tomorrow, I thought we'd head back down the coast."
Cody stiffened against Nick's back, then started to pull away.
"I missed our boat," Nick said carefully. "So I made a call. Figured she missed the ocean as much as you did." He turned the heat off below the sauce and turned, capturing Cody in his arms. "They'll have her on the water at three o'clock tomorrow."
Cody stared, silent. Nick regarded his expression thoughtfully. "You coming with me?" he teased. "Or do I have to pump the engines out all by myself? I don't have a nail gun here, but I'm sure we can fix you to that bollard somehow. I mean, you did--"
Cody claimed Nick's mouth, kissing him long and hard, and all thoughts fled. There was still the moment of disbelief for Nick, every time their lips met, but it was quickly overwhelmed by sensation and heat. Each time it became easier to believe this was real, this was true.
The sauce was cold in the pan and Nick had to make another batch before they finally got their dinner.
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It´s getting even better - amazing - but I´m still speechless.
Alright, I won´t die, I can´t, I gotta read your storys all over again and again. And enjoy them...
THANKS, for writing such fabulous storys, for writing the boys just perfect.
Rain