Chapter Text
It was surprisingly chilly, the morning after their much needed camping trip. The sun was just barely peeking out from behind the horizon and a harsh breeze whipped through the trees, shaking their branches and fluttering the healthy sun dappled leaves they produced. Pink and orange light shined down like a glowing beacon. When Quentin DiGregorio stepped out of the high end tent, dressed in a oversized worn out tee that skirted his thighs, he stretched his body out for a while as if he was about to start his morning yoga routine. Glancing around he noticed everything was already packed back up neatly, put away in the bags or boxes it had all come in. Raising an eyebrow in question he saw none other than the infamous 'Kegstand' Craig Cahn loading everything into the back of his soccer mom minivan, but he did it one box at a time so he wasn't technically overworking himself and Quinn couldn't get angry. Or could he? They were supposed to be relaxing, after all. He chuckled to himself and cleared his throat.
"Craaaig..." He trilled like one of the softball moms who was enamored with the fine specimen of male physic before him. The Asian man's head snapped around to face him as if he had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, a blush on his cheeks and a sheepish grin spreading across his face. Pretending to be put out, Quinn huffed and clapped his hands down on the narrow swell of his hips. "For somebody who used to talk shit about how I lived my life back in college, you seriously can't follow rules. Like at all. It's pretty sad. I might have to snitch."
"No, no, no no, no no no no no, no." Craig responded in an interesting rhythm, continuing to load everything into the car. "Because if you do that, I will be grounded and forced into relaxation. Without you."
Quinn faltered, his arms dropping to his sides and his brows furrowing in the center. "B-b-but...but...CRAAAAAIG.....dude that isn't fair."
"Calm down bro!" The other man laughed. "We'll just pretend this never happened, yeah?"
He grumbled and huffed as he packed the tent up while allowing Craig to do his thing in comfortable silence. The entire time he was muttering to himself about getting revenge. Once everything was organized in the back of the car they slammed the trunk shut together with force.
Only then did Craig look at him and beam a huge smile, assuaging the internalized anxiety and fears he was trying to cover up about the previous evening and everything that had happened therein. He felt large hands slide around his waist and then a long sweet kiss was pressed to his mouth and everything around them slipped away on the clouds of a dream. For a long moment it was just the two of them alone in the world as he toyed with Craig's hair and let the other man hold him close. Once they separated, they climbed into the car with his mind still buzzing and started on their way back towards home. The radio was on and it was warm and comfy, so he laid his head on the dark haired mans arm and drifted off to sleep once more.
"You know..." Craig began with a sigh which shook him awake suddenly, and seeing as it happened to be the first time he'd spoken the entire forty-five minute drive back towards the Maple Bay area, Quinn picked his head of unruly honeyed curls up from the other mans broad shoulder and angled his more compact body towards him in the passengers seat, tucking his left ankle under his right thigh to get comfortable and giving him his full attention. Cautiously, he scrubbed the back of his sun kissed arm across his lips in case he'd been drooling. This sounded serious. "Back when we were in college I had a really big crush on you."
The smaller man blinked rapidly up at the suddenly very serious man before him, more real and adult than he'd ever been in all the years Quinn had known him, and his eyes went wide with surprise. A crush? On him? Even back then? That had been something entirely unexpected, that was for sure. Out of anything he could have possibly said, that was probably the last thing that the younger man had considered that his friend -- boyfriend? partner? -- would say. He expected a comment about what had occured last night, in the tent, how when he buried his face in Quinn's shoulder from behind his cheeks had been wet with unseen tears. He expected to hear that it had been a mistake, a one time slip up that would never be happening again. He caught Craig giving him a curious sideways glance with crystal clear bottle blues as he downcast his own eyes to his lap where he studied the various folds in the fabric of his shirt, absentmindedly fiddling with his wedding ring and spinning it around his finger, long curling lashes kissing his cheekbones sweetly. He was very suddenly realizing a thousands signs he hadn't seen when he was young and blind and stupid. He had absolutely adored Craig then, worshipped the very ground the other boy walked on, lusted and loved and languished after him. But he was with Alex then, had been since high school, the man he had finally fallen for wholeheartedly after fighting his feelings for years. The man he had married. The man he had given a beautiful precious child.
The man who was, sadly, gone now.
But he remembered in a wave all those small yet significant extensions of a careful peacekeeping bridge, an olive branch that he had never taken. A blossoming romance he had refused because he was stripped of his sight by the love he had for a man who was trying, unknowingly, to love him back. How the raven haired wonder always dragged him to rancorous parties, even when he didn't want to go, because he wanted 'to hang with his all time favorite bro'. The unprompted evenings alone watching shitty B movies together or playing intricate board games or having deep emotional talks about life and love and death. Stargazing on the roof of their dorm, pointing out various constellations to each other while the shared a twelve pack of cheap beer. Passing out in the same bed after crazy nights out on the town. Cram studying for exams together like it was a competition. How awkward and confrontational he had been around Alex when they began seeing one another seriously, even though Quinn had attributed it to homophobia at first like a fool. The constantly unclear, pointless, meaningless conversations. All the warm longing looks and tender lingering touches and the clinging random hugs. The gentle brief kisses pressed to his forehead or his cheek or his hair. How had he been so completely unaware? It was the most obvious thing in the world now that he thought back on it with fresher eyes and a wiser mind. Tilting his head back up thoughtfully, he watched Craig successfully maneuver through the twists and turns of the winding forest roads silently for a moment, the pregnant pause suffocating around them as if it were closing in.
"Craig..." He glanced away, swallowing the lump in his throat before sighing heavily and fishing his cigarettes from his pocket. The other man watched him from the side of his eye, but said nothing as he flicked the zippo lighter to life and took the first drag, exhailing out the window. "So this is what you meant last night, when you said you had feelings for me you couldn't deny any more."
He nodded stiffly, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. Quinn didn't know what to say. One question did keep playing on a loop in his mind, though. "Bro, why didn't you ever say anything about all this?"
He sighed a heavy, bone weary sigh and turned off their road trip mixtape of oldies music softly spilling from the dashboard radio with a flick of his wrist. He knew the gravity of his words, it seemed, and now he was pushing himself beyond the edges of his comfort zone to continue. Handsome face creased with strain and taunt muscular back tense with stress, Quinn was more than concerned at first, fighting a strong tugging urge to reach out and touch him in some type of borderline motherly manner. It was as if he was having an internal battle, waging war with himself somewhere in that intelligent mind of his. Brain and heart fighting a world series wrestling match for dominance. His strong curved jaw clenched and unclenched, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tried to work out his words in his head, and sweat beaded on his brow. Throwing caution to the wind for the older mans health, both mentally and physically, he placed his tapered hand on Craig's knee, attempting to reassure him with the minimal contact. Some of the tension eased beneath his long slender fingers but he could feel the pull of flexed and coiled muscles under the cotton of his marled sweat pants, could feel a vibrating full body tremor that didn't seem to stop. The larger man made some noncommittal vocalization in his throat and waved his hands about wildly for a moment without speaking before he slapped them back down on the steering wheel, clenching so tightly that for a second his knuckles went white, a startling contrast to the red tinge of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Then he let all the air in his lungs out through his mouth in a hearty whoosh and his body slumped forward as if he were mentally and physically exhausted.
"Honestly?"
Quinn nodded his approval, indicating that yes, he did want to hear the entire story including all the gory details, patting Craig's thigh twice to ground him, bring him back to reality. He gestured with his cigarette for Craig continue on with what he had to say. This had all been bottled up for a very long time and needed to be let out finally, to free up their collective consciousness.
"Honestly bro, at first it was because of your situation." His voice grew quieter and his expression morphed into one of pure unadulterated shame. "Because you're transgender."
The absolute silence that followed the statement was truly deafening, but he couldn't bring himself to speak or even breathe. That didn't make any sense. Not one bit of it. Quinn began his transition from female to male his senior year of high school, and when he met Craig his first day of college he had only been transitioning for a few months at most. Which meant, in short, that he looked like a prepubescent thirteen year old boy who couldn't grow peach fuzz if someone held a gun to his head. His hair was freshly chopped into some demonic monstrosity resembling an upended bowl of ramen, his new wardrobe hung off his scrawny body as if he had shrunk in it, and he was the height of a fifteen year old at the cusp of puberty with the uncontrollable acne to match. He had to push and shove and fight the college and even threaten arson at one point before they allowed him access to boarding in the male dorms, and to room with Craig. He remembered the day they met. It was right outside Wilmer Stone Hall and they shook hands in front of his beat up black mustang while the older boy smiled with perfect straight white teeth, holding a cardboard box under one arm. Once they had moved everything in, he took a long few moments to sit Craig down and explain it all to him, carefree and casual while he was going insane with worry inside. The other boy listened intently with a confused look on his face, but at the end he clapped him on the back and claimed it was 'no problem at all, bro'. They had become immediate, fast friends and were attached at the hip after that awkward encounter was over.
Craig had never, not once, seemed to have any issue with his gender identity or expression, quite the opposite actually. He was the first to support, the first to defend. He had gotten into a number of fights, drunk and sober, over offending phrases and unkind remarks thrown across crowded frat houses or in smokey underground bars (none as memorable as when Alex had taken a switchblade to some assholes throat for calling him a tranny, however). He had cut away layers of sports bras as quickly and safely as possible when Quinn wore too many and couldn't breathe suddenly. He had been with him the first time he got an injection of testosterone, held one hand while Alex held the other. He had bought him his first proper binder as a birthday gift. He found a tailor that knew which cuts and fits worked for a transman's body when they were shopping for his wedding tux. He had always corrected people when they misgendered him, and even still often would. He gave him pep talks and encouragement and reminded him of who he was when dysphoria got the better of him. Even now he was adamant and vocal about his support of the community and proud of his position as an added voice against the struggle. How had his 'situation' been a problem for Craig? He didn't understand at all.
"I see. Never thought it was a problem." His voice was somber and the taller man visibly winced. He squeezed his grip on the steering wheel tightly and Quinn took another drag of nicotine, squeezed his leg as a gentle reminder that he was okay and they would be okay once the conversation was over. He relaxed only minimally.
"It isn't, wasn't! It's...because..." He sighed again. "Because I didn't understand it fully at first. I supported you one hundred and ten percent, because you were my bro, but when I developed feelings for you... I was already shaky with my sexuality before that, and I couldn't figure out what my attraction to you meant because I was naive and ignorant."
"But you had to have known how I felt about you dude, Smashley was so fucking jealous..." He blurted out suddenly, interrupting.
"I did bro, trust me I did. And that part stung the most. Every single time I looked in your eyes, I knew. Every single time I hugged you, I knew. Hell, every single time I was near you, I knew. I knew I was pushing you away and that hurt you, even if you never let it show. I hated hurting you. I LOATHED it. It made my chest ache with this burning pain and I... Smashley and I were just fuck buddies back then, and I kept it that way because I wanted to sort out my shit. I buried my emotions and my stupid teenage angtsy bullshit and let out all the pent up frustration on her in bed. But once I finally got it sorted..."
"Alex had already stopped being a dumbass and gotten his shit straight." He finished with quiet certainty, looking out the window at the passing trees.
"Yeah..." He reached out and grabbed the hand that rested unmoving on his leg, rubbing smooth circles across the back with his thumb. He thought for a few seconds. "I loved Alex like he was my brother, and Smash adored him to no end. I never thought he was WRONG for you or, like, a 'bad guy' or anything like that. I mean, beyond the crime sprees and general demeanor of an asshole. I just had finally realized that I loved you, no matter what was or wasn't in your pants, and the fact that he had no trouble with it upset me. I was mad at myself. It was like he just...got it, somehow, and it didn't bother him like it had me. It didn't take him a year of building up courage and pushing his thinking to the limits to decide that he wanted to be with you, like it did me. I was so jealous, and I shouldn't have been. It was my own fault. But he had dealt with his own battle about how you made him feel, and I didn't even consider that."
"Dude, Alex loved you." Quinn felt the need to reassure with a disbelieving breath. "He always told me he was glad that I had someone to take care of me when he wasn't around since I was such a God damned hot mess. Did he...did he know, about how you felt?"
Craig grew quiet for a few unbelievably long minutes, as if he were once again turning it all over in his head. Drumming his thumbs on the leather steering wheel cover he fidgeted around in his seat uncomfortably. With a gentle nudge of their connected hands, he came back to earth and took his eyes off the road before him momentarily to glance sideways and nod firmly. "He came to me the day before you two got married. He said 'you know he's pregnant, right?' And I was so mind blown I couldn't really answer for a while so we just sat down and had a few beers."
"Figures." Quinn snorted and rolled his eyes lovingly at the memory of his tactless late husband with a smirk. "That sounds like Alex to a T."
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Craig smiled at the thought. "Anyways, after a really awkward amount of silence, he finally stood up and said 'I know you're in love with him. Don't even try to fucking deny it. I see how you two look at each other. And I know this is hurting you.' And I just nodded."
"Christ was he always so blunt about shit?" Quinn chuckled and shook his head incredulously, tangling their fingers together.
"Oh yeah. All the time." Craig chuckled.
"I never even noticed. I mean I knew he was pretty cut and dry but fuck. Jesus Christ Alli..." He trailed off, feeling his eyes prick and well up with tears. Craig saw and gently squeezed his hand.
"Then he says 'But for once, I'm going to be selfish and not give a damn about your feelings. For once man, I'm taking what I fucking want. Because you may love him, but I love him more than that wall in your stupid head would ever let you. I'm sorry bro.' And he just...left me there to think about all that."
"God dammit Alex..." He quietly scolded his deceased partner from beyond this plane of existence, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his free hand. "The wall in your head? What the hell does that even mean?"
More silence, and then a shaky almost tearful sigh.
"I would fight myself a lot. Fight the feelings. If you were a man, then I had to be gay, right? Or at least bisexual. But I kept getting this little voice trying to tell me you weren't REALLY a man, not physically at least, so it was okay. And to sexually fueled hormonal Kegstand Craig, all that mattered was physicality. But the side of me that cared about you more than I cared about getting laid? That side told me how fucking wrong I was to think that way. You were more of a man than me, had faced more hardships and always would. So I was pulled in these separate directions and scared of the outcome. I was afraid of being attracted to a man. It horrified me at the time because of my toxic masculinity. I was drowning."
"At least you didn't try and use me as an experiment or a segway." Quinn offered with an unoffended shrug, sniffling. "You could've done that, a lot of fucking people at the time did. Even Smashley tried one night when she was blackout drunk. Craig you don't know how easily you could have fucked up if you hadn't figured yourself out."
"What I did was worse. I let you pine over me while I was too wrapped up in technicalities to just hold you and kiss you and never let you go. I thought, if I was too stupid to figure out if the feelings were worth the physical trade off then I could at least be the most supporting best friend I could ever be. I didn't understand that there wasn't a physical trade off. I didn't understand that no matter what your body looked like I would still want to be with you. I wanted to protect you and keep you safe. I still do. But you're a man and you can do that for yourself, I didn't get that way back when. I thought it was a damsel in distress situation, but you aren't some story book princess with a curse. I was just so...so...everything was messed up in my head bro..."
"And I'm assuming Smashley was of no fucking help." He theorized. Craig rolled his eyes and gave him an 'are you kidding me?' kind of look.
"After you two got married I just, sort of,...settled for Ashley. Fuck, that sounds so fucking awful. The man I was then loved her so much, almost as much as you. We were a party house power couple, and that worked for so long. You know after college shit was hard for us. We bounced around from shitty apartment to shittier apartment, some times we spent our rent money on cheap booze to drown away our sorrows. It wasn't a good life then. And when she was real mad and we were fighting she would bring up you and Alex. I know she never meant to, it was the alcohol talking, but it still hurt."
"Honey..." He said it without thinking. It just wormed its way out. He tensed, Craig flinched and then relaxed completely. The tension melted away from his entire body and he smiled one of his genuine, natural smiles, but there were tears in his eyes. Quinn placed on hand on the steering wheel.
"Pull over sweetheart, you need a minute."
So he did. Quinn's seat belt was off in nanoseconds, the cigarette discarded out the window, and before he could even consider what he was doing he had crawled over the center armrest and was straddling Craig's thighs. They clung to each other like an anchor on rough seas, work calloused fingers knotted in the back of his shirt and body wracking sobs muffled by his chest. He just sat still and allowed the man he had loved unlike any other to cry, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances and sweet nothings into his ear even though he was awful at consoling people. He had no idea how long they sat there like that, with him perched in Craig's lap like a seagull on a pier while the other man wailed, but eventually the cries died down as he chased away the bad memories with hopefully soothing words. When he pulled back to get a good look at the man in front of him, his own vision was a little blurry, and he scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he had blinked away the threat of melancholy, Craig pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
"I have loved you every day for all twenty years that I've known you, Quentin Lee DiGregorio"
"And I will love you, Craig Michael Cahn, every day until my last day, just like I always did."