NC-17, m/m, angst
At this point, I'd like to insert a couple of thank-yous. Thanks to E for encouraging me and allowing herself to be corrupted. Thanks to A for finally getting around to it and putting up with it. Thanks to S for opening her mind.
Crazy Eddie's Private Journals: Rubicon
By Tiriel
"See you, Eddie."
Those are not the last words I will ever hear from him. They will not be. They can't be. He's not dead. He is not dead. I've been telling myself that five times a minute for 14 days now. 14 days, 6 hours, 49 minutes since the car bomb. No body was found, so he's not dead. He's just...missing.
I've been running every search I know and a few I didn't 24/7 trying to find him. I've broadened the search every day, covering more newspapers, more hospitals, more law enforcement agencies...and more morgues. It's all come up empty. The phone keeps on not ringing. He's not dead.
I even risked a trip to the site of the car bomb, looked around for clues. There was nothing there except the burned-out carcass of the car that the authorities hadn't gotten around to hauling away. On another day, I'd make a joke about that--"car-cass of the car"--but not today. No fatalities, no major damage to the area, the case is a pretty low priority. I, uh, I got into the car. Sat in its damp, charred, metal frame. The last--NO. Not the last.
Back here in the trailer, no one's the wiser if I cry. It's quiet here. I never minded that before. He is not. NOTNOTNOTNOTNOTNOTNOTNOT. I've gone over it a million times. There were no clues that it was a trap. There's nothing that I missed that could have tipped us off. I still should have been more paranoid.
Before this, I was worried because I was still clueless about what to do, how to approach him and tell him that I love him. Now I just hope that I get the chance. No more waiting, no more chickenshit waiting for a good time or the right words. If he--when he comes back, I'll say it. He told me once that he loves me. Except I'm pretty sure he didn't mean it like I'll mean it. It was when he'd been pinched by the Chicago PD and he thought he'd never see me again. A quick "I love you, man," and he hung up too fast for me to respond. That was one of the hardest nights of my life, until now. Was I in love with him even then?
Cade saved my life the day we met. Saved it a couple more times before I got the chance to start returning the favor. Somewhere between then and now, I gave him my absolute trust, a rare thing for a paranoid like me. Somewhere between then and now, a more aesthetic appreciation of his body turned into lust--oh, who am I kidding?--it was always lust. But it wasn't always love.
We kept each other going. Every time one of us talked about packing it in, calling it quits, the other one was there. He can't be dead. If he is, I don't think I can fight this fight alone.
I don't think I could go back to my old life now if I tried. He got me out of this trailer more in the last 18 months than I had been in years. I would have died for him or with him. I will, if that's what it takes. Hey, Satan, if you're listening and he is, well, you know, then how about a trade? My life for his. Not that he'd be in Hell after all the good he's done, but that kind of bargain sounds more your speed than the other guy's. Whaddaya say?
Last time he died, that chick came back from the future to save him. A real Terminator moment. If he is, maybe she'll do it again. I was definitely in love with him by then, even though I didn't know it yet. I remember the way I felt when I realized that he was thinking of going back with her. And how I felt when he decided to stay.
When did it happen, then? That I can't say. The fifth time he hung up on me or the fiftieth? The hundredth time he ignored my warnings and waltzed right into danger or the first? When he told me how that alien bimbette was all over him at that club in New York, the Royal, I was jealous, but at the time I thought it was just lust or envy. I mean, there he was getting funky on the dance floor of some alien Studio 54 with a beautiful woman while I was getting nothing. Maybe it was more even then. Not that it matters when or how or even why. All that matters is that it happened.
I've done everything I can think of short of tacking missing posters to telephone poles like a kid with a lost cat. Oh, I can see that now--"MISSING-the man I love. Beautiful blue eyes, great body, headstrong, terrible telephone manners, answers to the name of Cade." I could just modify his wanted poster.
He is okay. He is.
Every noise outside the trailer jolts me to attention. I stare at the phone. I'm checking email and the results of my searches every five minutes. I want to do it more often, but I won't let myself. I've slept a little, mostly by accident.
I'll tell him first thing, I promise. I will. I'll do anything. He will come back.
I had a really bad false alarm the other day. A John Doe that fell within my search parameters turned up in Indiana. It wasn't him, of course. Cade is okay. He's not dead. I--PHONE!
XXX
I'm testing out some new voice transcription software I've been putting together for my Eddie 2000. That way I can record this while I drive, before I forget. I'll go in and tweak it later. I'm on my way to PICK UP CADE!!! He's alive. He's okay. He's alive. He is not dead. My hand shook as I clicked on the phone.
"Hello?" I said in this tiny little voice.
"Eddie." His voice held both relief and joy. "You're okay."
"Are-are you okay, Foster?"
"Yes."
I started to cry. I think he did, too. "I was so afraid--"
"I know. So was I. Look, you'd better come and get me. I don't know if the Gua are following me or not. I don't think so, but we can't be too careful. It was another one of their mindgames. They tried to convince me that I'd found proof, gotten the government on my side. They offered me fame, proof of my innocence, a tropical vacation, the works. I'll fill you in when you get here. You got a fix on my location yet?"
"Yeah. I'll be there in fifteen. Watch out for aliens. And, Cade?"
"Yeah, Eddie?"
"I love you." And then I hung up the phone before he could say anything. Mostly because I was afraid of what he might say. I'll find out when I pick him up, I guess.
He's alive! And I said it!
XXX
I'm...how...I'll do my best to record this as it happened, so that later on I'll have this. As if I'll ever forget.
I made it to his location in ten minutes flat. I restrained myself as much as I could. I was afraid that if I started touching him, I'd never stop. But I couldn't not touch him at all, so I did, just a little, just one arm-pat, I think.
In the car, on the way back to the trailer, he told me the whole story.
"They told me I'd been unconscious for almost two weeks, had a severe concussion, and while I was out they'd put all the clues together with the briefcase and figured out the truth. One of them let me wound him, check to see if he was Gua, and he didn't heal. Either they hired an actor, or they've caught on to that trick. They staged an attempt on my life, brought in a duplicate of my Uncle Harry, pulled out all the stops trying to convince me. Held a fake press conference, then they were going to send Uncle Harry and I off on a trip to relax. I don't know if they were after information or just trying to see if I'd quit, but it almost worked. Most of the time I was suspicious. Paranoid, even. You would've been proud. At the end, I almost believed, maybe I even did for a little while. But it was just too good to be true. I escaped. I still don't know how I got through the gate, but I escaped."
It was quiet then until we got back to the trailer. As we drove up, I asked, "Do we need to hitch up and leave town?"
"No, I think we should be okay. I didn't see anyone following us."
I unlocked the door and followed him inside. He was just standing there, looking around.
"I know it's kind of a mess, worse than usual even, but I was kinda busy--"
"Eddie," he said, turning to look at me. "Eddie," he put a hand on my arm. "Eddie," he stepped closer.
I threw restraint out the window and threw my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. "I thought you were dead. I kept telling myself you weren't, but I was so scared." I felt like I was going to cry again.
"I know. Me too. They told me they couldn't find you. Said you had to be dead or in hiding. But I knew you'd keep looking for me. They could give me everything except the one thing that would have made it truly perfect."
I gasped. He turned his head and kissed my cheek, then pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. He brought a hand up to touch my cheek. *This time, it's really gonna happen,* I thought.
"Eddie," he said again.
Then the two weeks of worry kicked in and gave me the backbone I'd been searching for. I shifted one of my hands to the back of his neck. Then I brought my lips to meet his.
The butterflies in my stomach escaped and migrated straight to my brain. First kisses are strange. Sometimes they're awkward or just plain bad. Sometimes they make you feel like you can fly. This one put me in orbit.
It was pretty tame by some standards, no tongue or anything, but for me it was hotter than all the fantasies I'd ever had about him combined. And that's pretty damn hot.
The kiss ended and I felt his thumb tracing my jaw. I opened my eyes and saw the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen on his face.
From there on out, things got far less tame. Which is why I, yours truly, "Crazy" Eddie Nambulous, am currently wearing the smile of a man who has been well and thoroughly laid.
Cade kissed me, with tongue that time. And if our first kiss was hot, our second was scalding. I have no idea how long he'd wanted me, but I'd been dreaming about his mouth and so much more for almost the entire time we've known each other. All that animal passion just came pouring out and our second kiss turned into a frenzied, clutching, squeezing, passionate clothes-removing clinch. We were rubbing together frantically and undressing each other like we were both starving and there was an entire banquet hidden under our clothes. I don't know about under mine, but there was definitely a feast under his.
I remember some things so clearly. Others are a little cloudy. We all know that hormones affect cognitive functioning. I remember the first touch of his lips on my neck. I remember when his hands grabbed my ass and pulled me even closer to him and I could feel his hard-on against my hip through his jeans and my pants. I remember a brief moment of total clarity when I wondered how we'd gotten out of so much clothing--shoes, jackets, shirts--so fast when we were hardly taking our mouths off of each other. I remember the way he said my name over and over, and how I said his almost as many times. Not "Foster," not even "man" or "buddy," but "Cade." I'd called him that before, but never in quite that tone of voice.
I didn't even hesitate when the moment came for me to unbuckle his belt and slip my hands inside his pants. And just as I was about to drop to my knees, knowing that he'd accept it with the easy grace of a man who's probably had a lot of people drop to their knees for him, he beat me to the punch. As many times as I'd imagined him kneeling in front of me, I guess I never expected it to really happen. But I didn't have time to protest or even think before I felt all of my skin exposed to the air as he jerked my pants and boxers down to my ankles and helped me step out of them.
I yelped, and I felt a puff of breath that might have been him laughing at me just before he started to--god, I get hard again just thinking about it. He's so intense, he dives right into everything, no holds barred. I should have known that his unstoppable, often reckless intensity would apply to sex, too. I knew I was gonna go off like a firecracker if I let him keep sucking my cock, so I squeaked out his name and tugged at his shoulders with hands that had turned spastic.
He got the message and stood up. I slipped my hands back into his pants, then under the elastic of his briefs to touch his skin. He kind of arched into my touch, and I bent and helped him out of the last of his clothes so that we were both finally naked. On my way past, I couldn't resist getting a taste of the dick I'd been dreaming about for so long, but I only got one good swipe of my tongue in before his hand pulled at my arm. I followed his lead and stood up straight, making one last stop on the way to run a hand through his chest hair while I tugged gently at a nipple with my teeth.
Then he kissed me again, and we were staggering together toward the nearest and largest of the bench seats in the trailer. Without even looking, he reached out a hand and swept the surface clear of the newspapers, fast food wrappers, and empty Jolt cans that had piled up during his absence. A pang of what I'd felt while he was gone hit me again and I kinda sorta tried to express it. It was hard to talk coherently, though, while we were kissing each other's faces, necks, and shoulders, and our hands were touching each other all over, all while we were maneuvering ourselves onto the too-small bench. I think it wound up sounding something like, "I thought I'd never (*pant*) see you again--oh, God--I'd been wanting to tell you--(*groan*) wanting you--for so long (*wheeze*) but I didn't know how--oh, Cade, Cade..." That's just a rough approximation of course.
"I know, Eddie." He caught one of my hands in his and placed it on his chest. "I told them you couldn't be dead, but I had doubts, too. But we're okay, and we're here."
Now that we'd finally gotten out of the gate, it all seemed to go so easily, so smoothly. I squirmed out from under him enough to reach the drawer of my desk where I keep my "just in case" box. I fumbled around a little, it was buried under stray disks and ballpoint pens, but I found it, opened it, and handed him a rubber and a small bottle of lube. He pulled me back under him and slid down my body.
"I love you," I gasped out as he took me into his mouth again. Meanwhile, he was--I've been saving up thief-related double entendres for ages, and I know he'd give me a dirty look for this one, but, hey, it's my private journal, so even though it makes even me groan, I've been dying to say it--meanwhile, he was opening my back door. Um, not that that's how I thought of it at the time, but he does have really good hands. Really good.
The divided focus of my attention--his fingers in me, his mouth around me--kept me distracted enough that I didn't shoot right away like I'd been afraid I would. I squeezed my eyes shut and bucked under him a little, and he was suddenly gone. I opened my eyes, afraid I'd lost him. He was right there, and he leaned down to kiss me. "Eddie," he said, and I knew it was his way of giving me one last chance to back out. Yeah, right. I kind of nodded at him and he shifted my legs up onto his shoulders and then, well, that part's kind of obvious. Fact is, I can't really think of adequate words to describe it. Um...incredible, amazing, I don't know. All I can say is wow. He's good with his hands and good with his tool.
Afterward, when I'd unfolded the big bed and we'd settled in to catch up on some of that sleep we'd both missed out on during our two weeks apart, there was something that was even better than the sex. Well, almost. I might have to call it a tie. Anyway, what it was was this--he fell asleep before I did, and I looked at him, and for the first time in all the time I've known him, he actually looked relaxed. Completely relaxed, peaceful, even. And to think that maybe that was at least partly because of me...
I had a tiny moment of panic when I woke up and he wasn't here. For just a minute, I had the horrible sinking feeling that we'd made a terrible mistake, or at least he thought so, and I realized that while I'd said it twice, he hadn't actually said he loves me. Sure, the first time I said it I hung up on him, and the second time he kind of had his mouth full, but still. Then I saw the note he'd left taped to the monitor.
So I got up to type this now while he's gone, and I think it's about time for me to sign off and get back into bed. He should be back soon.
-More later, Eddie