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The glass he had been holding in his hand fell to the ground. The sound of shattering glass barely heard over the pounding of his own heart. A muttered curse, he turned to grab the small trash receptacle nearby and bent down to pick up the remains of his glass of whiskey. A high quality label Andy had poured for him, one of those “only for special occasions” bottles of expensive booze you pull out when the situation calls for it.
This was not a worthy occasion. No. Norman wanted nothing more than to go home, put his lips to the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat in the shelf by the tv, and swallow long and hard.
“I’m leaving the show,” Andy had said. The posh English lilt to his voice so different from the rolling southern accent that he kept up 24/7 during filming season.
Norman wished he hadn’t heard those words, wished it was another language, another meaning, anything… not that his days with Andy were numbered. They had just finished season 8 not two weeks ago. Almost everyone had gone to wherever “home” was on the off-season.
“ Contracts… Carl… what they did to Chandler? Bollocks! ” Andy was on a roll, the words spilling from his mouth as the two picked up the broken bits of glass from the floor and wiped up the mess. Norman only heard and comprehended the occasional few words, his chest tight and his heart feeling much like the remains of the glass he had held just moments ago. And when they were done cleaning up, and stood there in the middle of the room awkwardly, Norman could hardly do more than stare at his own two feet. No, he couldn’t look Andy in the face. To see those eyes, to know the truth, the reality of it all, no that would simply hurt far too much.
He stepped away, brushing aside Andy’s hand as it reached out to him. Absentmindedly he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and he made way toward the nearest door. It was noticeably cooler outside in the evening air, he breathed deep pulling the nicotine into his lungs hoping it would calm his frazzled nerves, take the edge off this surprise.
But was he surprised? In a way, not at all. Not after what Gimple had pulled on Chandler, on Carl, on Rick Grimes… Straying so far off the comics it wasn’t even funny. The fans, passionate as they were, Norman wondered how they would take this news. Not well, not well at all.
He felt Andy’s presence behind him. Felt the man’s strong arms encircle his waist from behind, the weight of that bearded chin as it settled in the groove between his neck and shoulder.
“I’m not sorry. Not for leaving the show. But I am sorry for… oh, Nigel… this isn’t how I wanted this to end. We were supposed to walk off into the sunset together.”
“You talking about us? Or Rick and Daryl?”
“You know...there’s no end to us. The show… it’s a bloody crapshoot. Angela, bless her heart, I don’t know how she can fix the damage-“
“You leaving sure as shit don’t help,” Norman bristled. He was clearly pissed and had no problem making it known. Was he angry with Andy? Maybe a little. Did he blame him? Not at all. “I understand why though. Fuckin’ sucks, man.”
Andy sighed against his neck, pressing kisses along the length of his shoulder. “London is a short 7 or so hour flight from JFK, I expect you to visit. As often as I come to visit you… I don’t care where you settle, love. Upstate New York, L.A., Senoia… You’re not done with me.”
Norman closed his eyes and leaned his head against Andy’s.
“I don’t want you to go.” His voice took on that childlike quality it often did when he was upset, not quite a whine, but an insistent and desperate sound that made Andy squeeze him tighter. He turned Norman in his arms, pressing him against the wall Andy took Norman’s face in his hands and kissed his lips sweetly.
“You’ve kept up relationships with Sean, with Jeffrey… how is this any different?”
“They’re not you. ” Norman’s head dipped until his chin pressed against his own chest. “I’m not even going to think about how this affects the show. I’ve had you in my life almost daily, for 8 years-“
“Not including-“
“Hiatus, I know. 8 fucking years, Andrew. That’s over. I’ll see you at what, San Diego? New York Comic-con? And a couple Walker Stalkers? You’re not gonna have time for me. You’re gonna be this hot shot movie star-“
“Mm-mm,” Andy shook his head, brushing the hair from Norman’s eyes with a delicate touch. “I’m taking some time off to be with my children. I have missed out on so much. And I know you understand that. But I’m still here. I’ve got that iPhone you got me, and the kids are gonna show me how to do those Face-Tweeties with you, and-“
“FaceTime, Andy. It’s FaceTime.”
“Whatever. I’m still keeping my place here. Okay? I’m not gonna just disappear. Gael knows how I feel about this place… about you. I’ll build up some frequent flyer miles, is what I’m saying.”
Norman’s shoulders sagged and he finally gave in and leaned into Andy’s body, letting the man hold him, comfort him.
“And I’m still on for season 9. We will be off to a fantastic start, and I swear I will do my best to make sure I get a proper send off... With Scott no longer holding the reins, I am hopeful we’ll get something more than the nonsense of the past two seasons.”
Norman kissed Andy’s cheek before pulling back and devoting some attention to the cigarette in hand. “You sure? I don’t know, man… After Glenn and Abe…”
“Hey, you now what? I think I’d rather talk about something a little more fun. Hmm? Think of the positives, yeah? I can shave my beard-”
“No! I fuckin’ love your beard!”
“I can shave my beard, ” Andy waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And I can grow it back in a few days time. And did you once tell me that my beard was a bit chafing while I was face-first down-”
“Oh… OOOH!” Norman started to laugh. “Okay, Mr. Lincoln. I see where you’re going with this.”
“Hmm?” Andy leaned in and licked a line up Norman’s neck, to that sensitive spot behind his ear that made his entire body twitch deliciously.
“Mm-hm, I do. And… yeah, right there… ahem , okay maybe… maybe there’s a positive side to this. But… but I might… I think I might need a little more convincing,” Norman hooked his thumbs into the loops of Andy’s jeans, urging the man back inside and in the direction of the bedroom.
“Gael’s gone back home with the kids,” Andy signed hot against Norman’s ear, causing the poor man to stumble. “She’s not expecting me for another 10 days.”
Norman yelped when Andy pinched a nipple just this side of too hard, “Ten days, you say… let’s not waste any time then!” He leaned back against the door, turning the lock. “Lead the way, Mr. Lincoln .”