Loving Sam Lynch - 6. Chapter 6

Although they didn’t exchange presents, Christmas was spent with family while relaxing. One could get used to that after a week. Yet they were at the airport, leaving, by the time Max realized the fact. Renee accompanied them this time and as he left, she gave him a fierce hug. “He’ll come around.” She said in Max’s ear, holding on longer than necessary.

Max was startled. So she had noticed. He hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Renee alone this past week so he hadn’t been sure.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Max said, not meeting her gaze.

They exchanged final goodbyes and hugs, along with promises to call often, before departing.

Return-trips were always a little different in tone. The plane ride was short and quiet this time. Both of them were lost in their thoughts and so nothing Earth-shattering was said. Things like, “Pass the magazine, will you?” or, “How’s your drink?” and even, “How’re you holding up? Only a little bit of time till we land,” were bland nothings they occasionally murmured to each other.

As they got off the plane, Sam was the first to speak. “That was a great week. I’m sad to see it end.”

He’d stolen the words right from Max’s mind. “I know what you mean,” he said, feeling himself go cold as he recalled Annabelle’s words and reminded himself that happiness wasn’t awaiting Sam.

“We’ll have more like it,” Sam said, sounding a lot more optimistic than Max felt at that moment.

They didn’t say anything else while picking up their luggage because neither knew what to say. Instead, Max relayed the events of the past week in his mind. Every conversation, every touch, every smile, and every bit of laughter played sweetly in his brain. It seemed like something out of a dream.

On the last evening, he and Sam had sat by the fireplace, going through a box of some old things Sam had tucked away in his closet. They’d simply laughed and spoken softly about old things, always old things. New things weren’t mentioned, and that revealed much to Max. That their friendship seemed to be stuck in the past because of Max’s inability to move forward was just one.

At one point Sam just reached across and covered Max’s hand with his own. Max’s fingers had been drumming quietly on his thigh—impatience—and he’d looked up, surprised.

“What are you thinking? Wake up,” Sam murmured gently. That tone was always reserved for Max.

“I’m doing what you’re doing: Remembering.”

Sam sighed. He said on a totally unrelated topic, “Tomorrow we go back home.”

“Back to the real world,” Max said, nodding.

Sam grinned, but it was a tired one. He covered a yawn and leaned back on his hands. The fire warmed him but also made him sleepy. “Yep,” he said tiredly, “The real world. It always feels like that doesn’t it? You’re happy, you begin to think you can change your life or do something different—like when you go to a convention. And then you wake up in the morning and realize that’s not the world you see every day. Reality hits, I guess.”

Max blinked and said, “What’s with the philosophical response?”

Sam laughed. “It’s hardly philosophical. I’m just saying that…I guess I want things to stay this way. I’m happy and right now I’m convincing myself I can continue to grasp on to this feeling but tomorrow it’ll be gone.”

Max was a little surprised. Sam rarely made serious and insightful remarks like that. Because of this, Max realized he had a tendency to think Sam noticed very little or didn’t see depth to situations like he did. But perhaps he was wrong. After all, he reminded himself, Sam was a writer and though he didn’t make comments like that often, hadn’t he seen the evidence for Sam’s great creativity and thinking ability himself in the stories and papers Sam put together?

“We’ll see tomorrow then, I guess,” Max said, yawning loudly. They both laughed.

“Sleepyhead, let’s go to bed,” Sam suggested wryly.

The evening ended on that note. They stood groggily and said a quick goodnight.

Sam didn’t bother putting his coat on. He smiled at Max and left quietly through the front door. Max stared off dazedly for a moment before he too made his way up to bed. He went to sleep with Sam’s words in his head, although he didn’t feel that he could grasp on to the happiness he’d been dealt the past few days like Sam did.

Now it was over and he knew Xander was waiting for him on the other side. He was looking forward to seeing his red-head. Xander had grown on him in a way he couldn’t comprehend coherently. He wasn’t about totry to comprehend either. Perhaps he simply filled a role Max badly needed. That made him feel more like scum than normal.

Max hadn’t told Sam Xander would be returning earlier than them, and would therefore be picking them up. He needn’t have worried because when they came out, both Xander and Annabelle were waiting for them. He briefly caught Annabelle’s eye as they walked up but didn’t know what to make of her presence. Was she going back on what she’d said? He didn’t have time to make an enquiry because they couldn’t possibly grab a moment alone now without raising a few eyebrows.

Meanwhile, as they walked, Sam was complaining about Xander’s presence. “Why’s he here?” Sam demanded grumpily.

Max ignored him and allowed Xander to give him a brief hug when he approached. Max pulled away first. “Hey.”

Zander grinned at him like he’d just been given a huge present. “Hey, you.”

“Hello Annabelle,” Max said a few moments later, peering over Xander’s shoulder.

“Max,” She nodded. Her expression was stiff. “I guess we’ll be going then. I’ll-I’ll see you Max.” She looked furtively towards Sam who shrugged, waved and followed her.

Max watched them leave before turning to Xander, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression. When he caught Max’s gaze he flashed a smile. His hair looked windblown and his cheeks a little rosy. It was an endearing picture.

“How was your week?” Max asked finally.

They walked off. He trailed his suitcase along. Letting the week go with each step he took, he began the journey back to the ‘Real World’.

“It was busy!” Xander replied. “Lots to do! Family stuff, you know?”

“I know,” Max said quietly.

A look passed between them; their eyes held. Xander smiled and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. Max let him. Xander was so easy to latch on to. With each step he took away from his fictional abode of happiness, happiness he’d known would be finite, he took another towards Xander. Who seemed his anchor to this real world filled with pain and disjointedness.

Selfish, greedy, hypocrite! Max stiffened and held on tighter to Xander.

In the car, Xander turned the radio on and stared ahead while Max gazed out the window at what had become home now. Not a word was spoken. After arriving outside Max’s place they both exited wordlessly and went in, Max ahead and Xander behind him. At the door, Max felt Xander’s hands on his shoulders, his breath against his neck. He felt like his eyes would roll back in his head.

The door shut behind them. The sound of it slamming was like a bellow in the quiet stillness of the room. The hair on Max’s neck stood up. They looked at one another and for the life of him Max couldn’t hide the look of downright desire and need off his face. Neither could Xander.

So drained was he, so needy, starving for physical affection that he did not bother to hide.

Xander took the first steps forward, slowly, allowing him to step back if he wanted. Max didn’t. Xander ran his knuckles down his cheek and he closed his eyes, allowing the sensation. Skin to skin. It was such a powerful feeling.

“I missed you,” Xander said, not whispering. The clear voice was an intrusion; it made Max jump. Max never jumped. Xander chuckled, running his wide hands down Max’s spine and letting them rest on the taut curves of Max’s ass. “Easy there,” He mumbled.

Max gripped Xander’s shirtfront, but couldn’t close the distance between their lips. Oh, he could easily reach up and do it, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to live with himself after. Yet, how could he live without it?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Xander pulled him closer and Max felt his chest tighten. “We can’t,” He said naively, knowing already that he was going to allow it to happen.

“We can,” Xander said softly. “We can.” And he demonstrated this by capturing Max’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was slow, sweet, and it had the capacity of drugging Max. He groaned and fisted his hands in Xander’s hair. He didn’t demand much, didn’t press. One taste, one taste and that was it, Max told himself. Max angled his head so he could slide his tongue into Xander’s mouth—so he could taste him better.

“You don’t know what you’ve started,” He said, releasing Xander. He was past reason now.

Urgency, desire, and another compulsive emotion filled Max until he felt he would burst. He couldn’t see past needing Xander, couldn’t think past it. A dull pain hinted in the back of his mind but he denied it entry.

He grabbed Xander’s hand and pulled him along, through the door to his room. Pushing Xander on to the bed, he undressed. When he was only in his boxers, he turned to see Xander looking wide-eyed and staring at him in shock.

Max grinned and teasingly rubbed himself through the fabric of his boxers. Xander groaned and swallowed. He walked over, straddled Xander’s hips and ran his fingers up along the smooth skin of Xander’s stomach, leaving it exposed as he pulled the fabric away. Hard, firm skin met his fingers and he longed to press against it so might know the joy of the act.

Xander flashed a smile at him. He seemed to be mildly rational now. “God, the ice-box isn’t so icy in bed. Who’d have known?”

Max’s response was a quick bite to Xander’s pink nipples, which had the other guy gasping for air instead of smirking. Then, he couldn’t stand it. “Suck me off.” He said, feeling compelled to have Xander’s smooth pink lips wrapped around him. Xander nodded dazedly and pulled Max off him. He seated Max on the edge of the bed, and then knelt on the floor between his thighs, looking up once mischievously before lowering his head and wrapping his lips around the long, hard ridge.

Max groaned while Xander skillfully sucked him off to the brink of orgasm. He was on edge by the time Xander was done with him but he needed more, wanted more. He gently pushed Xander away. “Enough.”

“You want to fuck me?” A brow in the air, his lips wet from being wrapped around his erection.

Crass language. How Max adored it even in this moment of dazed need and overwhelming desire to simply connect. He grinned though, wondering why everyone assumed he’d like to fuck instead of getting fucked. “I want you in me now.”

Xander was surprised. “Y-you do?”

“What, scared , now Red?” Max taunted.

Xander scoffed. “Not a chance. I’m versatile but I prefer being on top.”

“Don’t waste your time with words.” Max said, turning over onto his stomach. He heard Xander’s breath hitch from behind him as he knew it would and then he waited for the first touch.

Xander didn’t disappoint.

~*~
Gasping for breath, Xander fell off him and they lay side by side.

“Wow.” Xander said.

Max laughed. “I like it hard.”

Xander leaned up on his elbow. “You think? I’m exhausted.”

“I’m not.” He ran a hand up Xander’s hard thigh.

Xander groaned, feeling himself harden. “We’ve done it three times already. That’s enough for tonight.” He broke off as Max’s hand wrapped firmly around his erection. He stroked it hard, once. Xander bit back a groan. “Yes, like that.”

“What were you saying?” Max asked softly, pumping his hand.

“What?”

Max didn’t answer because right then the phone rang. He had no intention of picking it up so Xander did. Max waited, still running his fingers along Xander’s hard length. “Yes he’s here.” Xander said in a stiff voice and passed the phone to him.

Max gave him a questioning look but took the phone anyway. “Hello?”

“Max, it’s Sam.” His voice was subdued, almost as if he had his jaw clenched.

“Hey, uh, Sam, this isn’t a good time.” He looked once at Xander. His jaw was set; he looked upset.

There was silence. It was distinctly uncomfortable.

“Yeah I can see, or should I say hear, that.” A pause. Static. Then, “Max…Annabelle broke up with me.”

Max ran a hand over his face and released a sigh. “Give me five minutes, no more. I’m coming.”

“You don’t have to--.”

“--Five minutes, Sam.”

No one else existed anymore.

He dressed silently, feeling Xander’s eyes on him the entire time. Once he’d thrown on jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt, he slipped on his coat and sneakers and then stole a glance at Xander.

“I shouldn’t be upset,” Xander said wearily.

Max grimaced. “You should be. You have every right to be. Listen, this, between us…I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I told you I wasn’t good for you.”

Now that the urgency was gone, the compulsive desire, need, and weakness fading to a lull, the pain he’d barred entry from was creeping up. Guilt, self-hatred, even fear seemed to be becoming prominent in his mind. It was almost unbearable.

What was he doing? Was he even thinking clearly anymore? Happiness, sure he deserved some—he acknowledged that thought—but not at the expense of others!

“And I told you I accepted you,” Xander said equally as hard. “Maybe I didn’t know what that really meant.”

That hurt. Max stiffened. It was the truth though. Hadn’t he already realized that ages ago? What Xander said about acceptance and wanting him despite his hang-ups about Sam were just words. Even if Xander was disillusioned about believing he actually felt that way himself.

Max said, “Maybe you shouldn’t have said it then. Annabelle broke up with him. He needs me.”

“He doesn’t need you, Max, you need him,” Xander said icily. Maybe Max was rubbing off on him.

“Hey, Red, that’s where you’re wrong,” Max said, his voice deadly stiff. He turned at the doorway. “I’ll call you.”

“Don’t bother.” Xander bit off. That spontaneity was showing itself again. The jealousy that seemed to be contained was leaking out and Max didn’t like knowing he was the cause of it.

“Alright. Whatever you’d like,” Max said. Then he was gone.Words, he kept repeating to himself, just words.

~*~

When Max arrived at Sam’s, he let him in after the first knock. Not waiting, he didn’t say anything and just wrapped Sam up in his arms.

“I’m sorry to drag you all the way over here. Red probably hates me even more now,” Sam murmured into Max’s hair.

“He’ll live,” Max said tightly and then released him. He hated seeing his Sam so vulnerable. “Will you be okay?”

Sam waved a hand. “I don’t know. I feel alright. I don’t feel like the world is over or anything. I just needed to see you badly.”

Max put his hands in his pockets, resisting the desire to sooth Max.

“I was going to break up with her, you see, so I’m not shocked,” Sam said quietly. “I just needed to see you.” He said it almost like it was an apology.

“That’s alright, Sam. I’m your friend, it’s cool,” Max assured him.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Honest?”

Max took a seat reluctantly. “Do you even need to ask?”

Sam grinned a little sheepishly. “No, not really. Things are just a little different now. We-we’re older, you see…” He trailed off.

“I understand,” Max assured him again.

“I’m just confused.”

“About what?”

“Well, I feel a little relieved it’s over.” Sam’s brow furrowed.

“That’s not surprising considering what you told me before. That you felt a little off,” Max said gently.

“It isn’t that. It’s—I felt constricted the entire time we were together and I can see now that it was because I couldn’t see you as often. And now that it’s over, all I can think of is the fact that I’ll be able to see you, that things will be good with us again. Maybe even like it was during this past week,” Sam said uncomfortably.

Oh, Sam, Max thought once again. His precious Sam.

“Say something!” Sam ran his fingers through his black curls. “Tell me that isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Max said automatically.

“Don’t lie to me,” Sam commanded imperiously.

Max smiled. “Sam, I don’t think you understand that you rarely went a day or two without speaking to me before Annabelle. Of course it’s normal you’re feeling this way.” Only, most friends aren’t that attached to one another. But of course he didn’t add that.

“You didn’t feel that way,” Sam accused.

“I did,” Max said quietly, unable to lie about that.

“No lie?”

“Truth,” Max vowed, and for Sam, his word was enough.

They were silent for several minutes. Sam was lost in his thoughts and Max was lost watching Sam. The lean column of his throat, the slight pout of his lips while he thought deeply, and the cool grey of those eyes that could flash such warmth it never failed to make Max smile.

Suddenly, Sam stood. “I’ll make a sandwich. Do you want some eggs?”

“You have some?” Max asked, surprised.

Sam paused. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Max shook his head. “No reason. I don’t want any, but thanks.”

Sam shrugged. “Alright. I’ll be a few minutes.”

“I’ll keep you company.” Max followed him.

While Sam toasted his bread, Max sat on the counter and watched his movements. “You sure Red will live?” Sam asked with a small smile on his face, looking for the life of him like he hadn’t just had an emotional crisis of sorts. It took that little to make Sam happy again. Well it only took Max that little.

Max winced. “Yeah, I don’t really know about that…”

Sam seemed to grin a little wider. “Something good happened today then.”

Max punched him lightly. “Shut up Sam Lynch.”

“That’s, ‘please shut up,’” Sam automatically corrected.

Max rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say,” He replied. Then on a more serious note, he added, “You sure you’re alright?”

Sam paused his movements for a second and turned to look over his shoulder at him. He looked a little confused for a moment before his face cleared and a corner of his mouth turned up. “Now I am,” He replied.

“Now that I’m here, I suppose,” Max joked. “I feel important.”

Sam said lightly, almost too lightly, “You definitely are important, Max.”

Max tilted his head, noting the slight change in Sam’s behavior. “No, really, you seem…”

“Loony?” Sam prompted.

Max released a nervous laugh. “Not quite. I was going to say…thoughtful?”

Sam nodded. “I guess. Damn, today was crazy. I guess that’s why there’s been so much stuff to think about.”

“You mean coming to terms with her leaving?” Max asked bluntly.

Sam shrugged. “Among other things.”

“Like?” Max knew he was being unusually inquisitive.

Sam didn’t seem to mind. “Hmm…just stuff about you and…Xander, I suppose. And what I said earlier. Remember?”

Max knew Sam was insanely curious about what Xander had been doing there at three o’clock in the night but he was being polite for once and not asking…or throwing it in his face.

“About being relieved and happy to be free so you can see me more?” Max wondered, not saying anything to soothe Sam’s anxiety regarding Xander.

Sam nodded, his shoulders stiffening again. “I know you say you get it and you even feel the same way to some extent but do you…” Sam trailed off.

Max said, “Turn and look at me. Good. Now do I what?”

Sam frowned. “I don’t know how to ask. Forget it.”

“You don’t know how to word something? Strange… Ask me!”

Sighing, Sam turned to face him, setting his knife down. He wiped his hands on a dish-cloth. “Don’t you ever think our friendship is just a little...--.”

“Strange?”

Sam shook his head impatiently. “That too, but I was thinking more along the lines of unique. Sometimes it feels like more.”

Max stilled. His breath hitched. “L-like more?”

Sam smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“Uh, no…” Max disagreed. He couldn’t let himself think what he wanted to think.

“I can’t even describe it. It’s always been this way you know? Sometimes I feel crazy because it’s almost like you’re the most important thing in my life. It’s too weird.”

Max nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you really?” Sam sounded dubious.

Max looked back up at Sam, surprised. “Yes, of course!”

“You’ve been my friend my whole life! I guess you’re so…constant that everything else feels replaceable…like it has a…time limit I suppose.”

Max just stared, unable to speak.

Sighing, Sam picked up his knife again. “I’m going a bit too deep on you, eh?” He said, chuckling stiffly. “Forget it.”

“Uh,” Max stammered, “No, it’s just…so random I suppose. We don’t normally talk about these things.”

“It’s one of those days,” Sam explained. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Max chastised. “I’m just sorry I can’t be more of a help. You sound…conflicted.”

“I’m not. I’m just beginning to make some realizations. It’s kind of like…you didn’t know you had a particular thought until you say something out loud. The pieces have all been there but haven’t been put into proper form. Then you speak and I guess pieces start to fit together and you realize you actually did have a thought about…a particular thing.”

Max thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I know what you mean. Take it easy with all the thinking though, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You do know, don’t you, you know that you can’t live without me. It’s beginning to come to you. How will you deal with it? How will I deal with this? Why me?

Max yawned and hoped Sam didn’t notice. Too late. “You’re tired. It’s because I called you so late. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep,” Sam said, and frowned at him. “Go lie down.”

“There’s that commanding tone again. You’re not my Mother, Sam, as much as you’d like to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam threw his eggs on a plate and passed it to him.

“It means that if I yawn, it’s not because I’m about to be overcome with fatigue and die, alright?”

Sam smiled sheepishly. “I know that. I just thought you were tired…”

Max laughed and gently brushed Sam’s cheek with his knuckles. “I know, Mom.” And then he walked away, leaving Sam standing there for what seemed like several minutes, staring off into space.

~*~