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“No, we’re fine, we’re all fine, it’s just the Bug got a bit smashed up.”
“How smashed up is a bit?”
Ted looks up, mentally making a list of what parts need to be replaced, what parts can be jury rigged without them. “I don’t know, I think I can get her up and running again in... four or five days?”
“Four or five days.”
Ted cradles the receiver against his shoulder to wave back at Wonder Girl walking past the phone booth. “You think you can spare us? I can put Booster on a bus if you want.”
“Don’t you dare,” Max quickly replies at the other end. “I’ve got government agents coming over this week for a CLI assessment.”
“Government agents? Like FBI?”
“No, just some people who are coming to see that everything we do is above board, that there's no blackmailing or bribes and things like that. I don’t need you and Booster here telling them inappropriate jokes.”
“You can’t just give them a wad of cash and send them on their way?"
“Like that,” Max sighs. “You and Booster stay, repair the Bug, and if you should get it running ahead of schedule, well,” Max pauses. “Stay the weekend. Consider it a paid vacation.”
“A vacation in Loup County, Nebraska,” Ted states flatly. “Whoop de doo.”
“I trust you have a place to stay.”
“There’s some kind of hotel. Booster’s over there getting the details sorted right now.”
“Enjoy your stay then!" For a moment Max’ insincere car salesman persona comes through. He's obviously pleased with this turn of events.
“Yeah, bye Max.” Ted makes a face and hangs up the phone, before he tilts his head back with closed eyes.
Oh boy.
A week with Booster in Nowhere, Whocaresville, no work to keep them distracted. No action to keep them preoccupied. Just as they were starting to speak again, too. When are things ever going to go right?
Ted’s quiet despair is interrupted by the sound of soft tapping. He looks through the dirty glass of the phone booth at Starfire, the strange alien girl in the Titans.
She smiles kindly as he opens the door to the booth. “Bad news from home?”
“No, no,” Ted shrugs. “Just that we’re stranded here for a while.”
“We could give you a ride, if you want.”
“We have to repair the Bug, uh, my ship, anyway, don’t worry.” He looks into her yellow alien eyes, and tries to smile carelessly. “We’ll be fine, thanks for the offer.”
“I’m sorry about your ship. Thank you for giving us a hand back there.”
“You and the the rest of the Titans practically had the whole thing wrapped by the time we got here,” he assures her, and it's true. It had been silly of Ted and Booster to respond to their call for assistance anyway, all the way out here. Even in the Bug they’d spent several hours to arrive.
But they were always so keen to accept calls to action these days.
“Thank you anyway. Good luck with your ship.” She smiles her alien smile once more and goes back to the rest of the Teen Titans, about to head home.
He waves her goodbye, feeling the only thing Blue and Gold accomplished today was to show up and get blown out of the sky. To the Titans they must just seem old and in the way.
He squints against the sun, into the distance, and on the dilapidated road he can see Booster trotting towards him, in civilian clothes, a tank top and jeans. He steels himself, putting on an easy smile. “Bad news," he shrugs at Booster when they're within speaking distance. "Looks like we’re staying for the weekend. We’ve got to do repairs and Max wants us out his hair.”
“Fine, um,” Booster replies, wiping his forehead, glancing back over his shoulder towards where he came from. “I’ve got some bad news too.”
Ted pushes his yellow goggles up to rubs his forehead. He too feels warm in the summer sun. “Okay, hit me.”
“There’s some kind of convention,” Booster frowns. “Insurance or something. They’ve only got one room available.”
“Huh,” Ted states flatly. So he can’t even escape to a room of his own when the tension with Booster gets too much. “Great.”
Booster clears his throat. “I’m not done with the bad news yet.”
“No?” Ted squints against the sun.
“No.”
“Tell me then.”
“Okay, bud,” Booster takes a deep breath and avoids looking into Ted's eyes. “There’s, uh, only one bed.”
Ted comes to the hotel late that day, as late as he can make it. He’s been inside the Bug’s engine for hours, rearranging and tightening and replacing until he couldn’t see in the twilight. He shows up in the dim foyer wearing the extra shift of civilian clothes he carries in the back of the Bug, his arms covered with oil and dirt. He’s thankful it’s a sleepy little local kind of place, not a big fancy hotel. He repeats the fake name Booster used to the front desk clerk, who apologizes profusely to Ted for the living arrangements. Ted’s too exhausted to reply.
Once he localizes the room, he locks himself in and finds the room dark, and he exhales, thinking Booster must be asleep. He hopes Booster’s already asleep. That would make everything easier, make the room a place that’s just for resting, and for the remainder of the days Ted can do repairs while Booster can... do whatever he wants. Maybe they can actually spend less time together while they’re held up here.
Because...
They haven’t spoken about that night, the party. There's been a deafening silence on that front. Well, the morning after, Bea had teased him over breakfast for getting so hammered, and Ted had assured her he couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Nothing at all. He’d seen Booster’s face when he said it.
Ted’s a terrible liar, and they both know it.
Ted tries to get the lay of the room in the dark, wanting to find the bed, wanting to quickly ascertain what side of it Booster must be sleeping on. Instead he stubs his toe on who knows what, twice, so he retraces his steps back to the door and fumbles up the wall until he finds a light switch.
He turns it on.
Booster’s not there. The bed is empty. The single bed, full size, made up for two.
A little relieved Booster isn't there, a little anxious because that means Booster will return, Ted opts for a shower in the minuscule bathroom. It's good to wash off the oil and dirt and stress. When he’s through he puts his t-shirt and boxers back on and heads to bed, taking care to take up as little space as possible right on the edge of the bed.
He wants to sleep, just sleep and not be conscious, not be part of that little room, that bed, that suffocating tension he and Booster shares every moment they’re alone together, trying to banter like before while a drunken night at a party hovers in the air between them.
But still he feels a little pinch of anxiety that Booster isn't back. What on earth can he be doing at night in a sleepy little town like this anyway? Trouble has a way of finding them, even in civilian clothes, even with fake names, and for all they know Loup County can be a depraved and dangerous place. It's always the quiet ones.
He hears the door open. Ted lies in bed, eyes closed, steadying his breathing. Just asleep. Not available at this time.
He hears unsteady footsteps, hears a short sharp thud and muttered cursing. Even in the pitch black of the room he recognizes Booster's breathing.
Right about now Booster will probably do exactly like Ted, realize that he must turn on the light. Ted assures himself he won't react, won't give away that he's not asleep. Not stir a muscle. He braces himself and waits for the flash of light.
Instead there’s a thud making the bed rock, and immediately after, something big and heavy and unwieldy crashes on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. He yelps when an elbow hits his clavicle.
“Booster, what the hell?”
"...Can’t see a fucking thing...”
Ted reaches out, fumbling for the lamp on his nightstand. It takes a moment to find the switch but he turns it on, revealing Booster ungracefully pushing himself back up to a standing position.
Booster’s face is flushed, his eyes unfocused. He giggles. “I’m sorry, Mr. Beetle, didn’t mean to wake ya.”
“Where have you been?” Ted rubs his aching clavicle.
“With the insurance people,” Booster sways on his feet, closing one eye in thought. “Or... not insurance. S'like, insurance adjacent.” He waves his hand dismissively. “They’ve been trying to explain it to me all night.”
“Booster, you’re drunk.”
“Yeah, this -- this guy with the convention,” Booster turns and starts to undress, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. “Harry. Or -- Larry or something. From Florida. He kept buying me drinks and rubbing my thigh under the table.”
Ted’s heart skips a beat. He feels cold. “And you let him?”
Booster pauses and looks back at Ted, frowning. “Thass none of your business.”
It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. “But you left.”
“Mm,” Booster continues trying to remove his pants, balancing unsteadily on one leg. He sits heavily down on the bed, his back to Ted. “They started talking about bringing out the cocaine, so I slipped away.”
“God, Booster.” Ted flops against the bed. He wants to sleep, just hit pause on his restless mind, his restless heart. But he’ll know it’ll hound him all night, so he asks, hoping Booster's so drunk his guard is down: “And this Larry guy?”
Booster shrugs, not looking at Ted. “He spent a lot of money on me.”
“Fuck, is that what you are now?” Ted snaps at him, too exhausted to stop himself. “Just get you drunk enough and you gladly --”
“That’s when the magic happens, right?” Booster spins around to look at him, anger vibrating in his voice. “The rules don’t apply when you’re drunk, isn’t that how it is?”
Ted feels a shock of panic in his chest and looks away. “We’re not discussing this now.”
“Because we’re so fucking good at discussing it any other time.”
“Fine, what do you want me to say, Booster?” Ted groans, tired, frustrated. Scared. “I was drunk on vodka and yeah, it wasn’t fair of me to do that to you after you -- after what you told me. I’m sorry. What more do you want from me?” He rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe I'm... something I'm not.”
“Oh, my mistake,” Booster mutters, seemingly having come to the realization that the pants-removing process has been hampered by still wearing his shoes. He bends down to remove one. "You sure seemed to be something that night."
Ted feels a swell of panicked anger in his chest. “You were the one called it off.”
“No, you did, Ted!” Booster hurls his shoe at the wall and turns to him. “You did that when you told me the only chance I’d ever get was when you were falling down drunk!”
“Fine! New rule then,” Ted snaps, feeling every muscle in his body vibrate with tension. “No speaking when drunk. Either one of us.” He throws himself on his side in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. “Good night, Booster.”
“Night, Beetle,” he hears Booster sneer.
In short order the lights are turned off, the bed dips as Booster gets in, as far towards the other side as he can get, and the silence continues indefinitely.
Both of them in the same small bed, yet somehow an ocean of sheets and resentment between them.
In the morning Ted is the first to wake, feeling hollow and tired.
As he gets up Booster stirs, flinging an arm up to cover his eyes, then twisting around to bury his face in his pillow, groaning miserably. Ted pauses, looking at Booster and trying to gauge if the anger from last night is still bubbling inside himself, but instead he feels a pang of... of something. Pity, maybe. Or sympathy, or something almost like tenderness.
As ugly and unexpected as their fight was, as self-inflicted Booster’s hangover is, he hates seeing his best friend in pain. Hates seeing him miserable. He fills a glass with cold water from the bathroom and carefully sets it on Booster’s nightstand. If he had some aspirin he’d leave him those too.
He pulls on his pants and sets out to work on the Bug once again, finds the torn up little grove next to the road, where the Bug went down.
Nothing is right. He kept hoping they were beginning to move on, just focusing on the job, talking again, bantering again. Both of them brushing off that night -- Ted making a fool out of himself -- as just a drunken misjudgment. But as last night proved (and he’s known it all along, deep inside), it all lies buried, right under the surface.
As he loosens the bolts to his fried capacitor, he thinks of Booster, nursing his hangover from hell. The pain he’s in.
And it’s all Ted’s fault.
He knows Booster doesn’t drink like that. Not usually. He can get buzzed, he’s gets cheerful with a few shots in him, but Ted’s rarely seen him hammered like that before. Just like Ted doesn’t drink like that. But he was even worse off the night of the party, and it wasn’t just because of all the toasts he did with Dmitri.
Ted got drunk that night because he was miserable, simple as that, because he wanted to feel something other than that misery. Or at least make it blurry and soft and dim, not all sharp and painful, bruising in the inside of him. At least Ted was with friends, prepared to protect him, to take care of him. He supposes that's what Booster wanted too, to protect him that night. Make sure he was safe, even from his own addled judgement.
And Ted's answer had been to hurt Booster.
He can't stop thinking about the change in Booster’s face, one moment grinning, kissing, the next moment Ted telling him it wouldn’t be any kind of repeat performance. Just a one night thing, when Ted was.... When he was secure in the knowledge he could blame it on the alcohol afterwards, that it was merely something to try without any kind of commitment, without any sort of statement.
Ted makes a face.
He’s a goddamned coward and he knows it.
That’s just the start of all the things he is.
He’d even hoped that their little failed attempt at.... Whatever was in the cards that night. Fooling around. He’d hoped that had flushed his feelings for Booster out of his system. He was so hungover the next day, for a desperate moment he’d believed it was a success. Like he’d had his taste, it wasn’t for him, time to return to the regularly scheduled heterosexuality.
But, God, he keeps thinking about Booster’s soft lips against his own, Booster’s hot breath against his skin, the delicious pressure of Booster’s eager body against his. He’s practically been thinking about nothing but those things. It's like... he's a starving man who chose to leave a feast after having only one tiny hors d’oeuvre. If anything it made the want in him multiplied by ten.
But what’s he supposed to do? He’s straight. He’s a straight man with just... Just this one exception. That must be why he’s feeling all this so keenly, it’s something new, something absurdly unlike him. It’s just his curiosity, his scientific mind that’s gotten obsessed with a brand new set of data, that's all. He can’t turn his life on its head, can’t become something very different than what he’s always been, for one tiny errant blip in a lifelong tendency.
Can he?
He leaves the Bug for the day before the light starts going, before he’s too exhausted and unprepared to meet Booster, whatever mood he might be in when he gets back. Booster’s probably taking it easy today after the bender he was on last night. Resting in their room, maybe. Ted recognizes a tiny hope in himself at that thought. That he’s there when he gets back, not with... Not with the insurance people. Not with Larry, or whatever his name is.
When he enters the hotel he pauses in the busy foyer, a cold lump in his stomach. No. He doesn’t want to go up, doesn’t want to find an empty room, wondering where Booster is. Or maybe he’s scared Booster will be there, still white hot angry with him, with the way Ted’s been treating him. And he’d be right.
Instead he opts to find the toilets behind the reception area, and he washes his dirtied hands, his arms, his face. Then he heads into the hotel bar, feeling a little uncomfortable in his T-shirt and jeans, his one change of clothes, amidst all the men and women in business suits.
It’s a big bar, full of people, the lights dimmed. There’s even a dance floor, packed with obviously sauced insurance people stumbling around to the disco music.
“...I can’t survive, I can’t stay alive without your love...”
Ted pushes his way to the bar, squeezing between the bodies, until he can get the bartender’s attention. He goes for a beer, any beer. He’s not getting drunk again, it’d be hopeless if he and Booster just took turns getting hammered. It... doesn’t make anything easier. He just needs to have something in his hand, stall for time until he feels prepared to go up to the room.
He finds a free barstool and sits, his back to the bar, watching the business people letting loose. Some of these guys are old, dusty white men who leer drunkenly at each other. Some of them are younger, with slicked back hair, grins pearly white like sharks sensing blood in the water. There are some women too, beautiful career women with long perms and high heels and pant suits.
For a moment Ted feels the temptation to approach any one of them, those confident-looking women with the bright red lipstick, give her a line, buy her a drink. Suggest to her they go somewhere, no strings attached.
He makes a face as he nurses his beer. Yeah, right. So keen to assert how goddamned straight he is he forgot for a moment any one of them could kill him with a look.
He takes a sip as he glances to the dance floor, and chokes on his beer at the sight of Booster. Booster in the crowd of people, still in his jeans and singlet, dancing with a dark-haired woman in a business skirt and tall black heels.
“...Come on satisfy the need in me, ‘cause only your good lovin' can set me free...”
They move in close as they're dancing, Booster’s leg momentarily between hers, and she lets her fingers with red lacquered nails grasp his hips, pull him close. They grin at each other, Booster looking none the worse for wear after his hangover.
Ted looks at them over the brim of his glass. Good for him, he grimly tells himself. Looks like one of them is getting lucky tonight. He sees her fingers move up, moving through his hair, his soft fair hair, and he feels something sting in his chest.
He freezes when Booster looks up, straight at him. Meets his gaze. Booster pauses for a moment, too, breathing deeply, and then his eyes snap back to the woman he’s dancing with, and he puts his arms around her, one around her shoulder, one one her thigh, and dips her low, kissing her neck. She laughs.
Ted inhales unevenly.
Booster grasps the woman’s hips, pressing her body close to his again, and they move and grind to the music on the crowded floor. She folds her arms around his neck and their faces come close, their eyes gazing into one another’s.
Ted wants to leave, wants to look away. This is different from when he was watching Booster and Bea dance at the party. Booster knows he’s watching now, knows the way Ted’s looking at his body moving.
They kiss, her fingertips digging into Booster's back, his neck, and he rolls his hips against her. Ted feels a warmness in him, a heat he doesn't enjoy. The woman pulls Booster down, licking and biting his neck, and Booster looks at Ted with low-lidded eyes, lips parted, gasping as she works his neck, and he rolls his hips against her once more.
Ted shifts in his seat, not trying to think about how he knows the feeling of Booster's tongue, his hips pressed against him, the sound of him groaning in his ear. Why’s Booster doing this? What response could he possibly want from him?
The woman stops dancing, one arm still slung around Booster’s neck. She says something, grinning, holding up a finger, like she's telling him to wait. He smiles at her with low-lidded eyes, seductively, and moves his head close to hers again. Like they’re gonna kiss. Then he tells her something, still smiling, and their bodies part. She trails a hand down his chest, his broad chest looking so good in the yellow tank top, and mutters something, and then walks off the floor, past Ted, to the foyer.
Booster’s still on the dance floor, standing still for a moment, gaze unfocused, like he’s thinking. Then he looks at Ted again, a spark of... frustration? Anger? In his eyes, and Ted can’t help but meet his gaze and hold it.
Ted doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now, what emotion he’s projecting outward, but he feels uncomfortable, restless. Trying to understand if Booster’s stare is some kind of challenge. Trying to understand what on earth he's supposed to do if he's meant to answer it.
Booster abruptly turns his head and looks at something next to him, like somebody has said his name, demanded his attention. Ted shifts in his seat to get a better view of the floor, and he sees a couple, smartly dressed, dancing together while the man grins at Booster, says something to Booster.
The man is middle aged, somewhere between the dusty geezers and the young hungry-looking shark men. He has the same sharky grin, though, his hair slicked back. He grabs hold of Booster’s wrist and says something, laughing.
Ted coughs, a dry spot in his throat, but sipping his beer doesn’t seem to help at all.
Booster grins back, and begins to weave and dance to the music again, moving close to the couple. Dancing like a trio, though Booster seems more focused on the man than the woman.
“...Love really hurts through and through and it's breaking my heart, but what can I do without you...”
Booster’s body suddenly tenses, and Ted shifts in his seat until he can see, see how the man’s hand is on Booster’s ass, squeezing. Booster smiles, a little less brightly than before, and keeps dancing, moving closer, and Ted looks down into his beer until he fears he’s going to crush the glass in his hand.
He looks up, sees Booster looking at him again while he’s dancing. The same fire in his eyes. Booster’s eyes snap downwards, at the man’s hand working his way under Booster's shirt, and pulls him close, their hips meeting, grinding to the music.
“...You're using every trick in the book the way that you look...”
The man, who seems oddly unconcerned with the people around them, has both hands under Booster’s shirt now, one on his chest, one pressing against the small of his back, pulling him closer, and Booster looks to Ted again, smiles at him defiantly, wildly, before he looks back to the man, pulls his own shirt up further, and that’s when Ted jolts to his feet and stomps over to the dance floor.
Booster is oblivious and yelps when Ted roughly pulls down his shirt, grabs hold of his arm and bodily hauls him off the floor. Ted doesn't bother to see the shark man's reaction. He doesn’t stop until they're off the dance floor, out of the bar, in a corner of the foyer, where the din of people talking hopefully will drown out what he has to say.
“What the hell?” Booster protests, rubbing his arm.
“What kind of idiot are you?” Ted hisses at him, taking care not to raise his voice. “How drunk are you right now?”
“I’m not drunk at all,” Booster sneers. “I’ve had one beer, I’m sober as a priest. I can do whatever the fuck I want without you babysitting me.”
Ted looks at him and realizes he’s telling the truth. Booster isn’t unsteady on his feet, doesn’t have the unfocused gaze of yesterday. And that makes it worse. “Look, if you’re gonna be the convention gigolo that’s your business, but you can’t behave that way where everyone can see!”
“You think I’m not used to hiding?” Booster’s breath whistles through his teeth. “You don’t think I’ve been fucking hiding since I got to this age?”
Ted feels a little jolt inside his chest. Realizes immediately that Booster's experiences in this time period must have been quite different from his own. But that's no excuse. “So, what, you’re acting like that to make me jealous?”
“Maybe you’re not the only person in the whole wide world I wanna fuck, Ted!”
“Shit, keep you damn voice down!” Ted looks around them, panic in his chest. A woman glances back at him, but he tries telling himself she’s just responding to Ted abruptly scanning the room. “So what the hell are you playing at then?” Ted whispers furiously.
“I just -- I want you to admit it.” Booster whispers back, his voice vibrating with anger.
“Admit what?”
“That you want this. That you want me.”
Ted makes a sharp noise. “What?”
“Because I keep thinking back to that night, Ted.” He scowls, searching Ted’s face. “And I don’t care how fucking straight you are, but that night, you don’t do that if there’s not even a tiny sliver of that in you already.” He makes a face, looking at the people passing. “Even if you were falling down drunk, you don’t act like that based on absolutely nothing at all.”
Ted breathes deeply through his nose, and he wishes his breathing was more steady than it is.
“I’m not saying... It has to mean anything.” Booster’s voice is a little gentler, searching his eyes. “But do me a favor and at least admit it.”
Ted closes his eyes, frowning.
Say it. Say it, there’ll never be a better opportunity.
They’re here, they’re talking about it. He needs to say it.
“Hey, hotshot.”
Ted’s eyes snap open. It’s the woman from before, the dark-haired one Booster was dancing with earlier. She smiles at him, red lipstick lips, pearly white teeth.
“Where were you? I’ve been waiting by the elevator forever.”
“Ah shit. Um,” Booster mutters, pulling both hands through his hair. “It’s, uh, well, something’s come up.” He looks at Ted, his cheeks flushed, and back to her. “Sorry, Linda.”
“Oh. I see,” her eyes narrow as she glances to Ted and back to Booster. “It’s Tina, by the way.”
Booster winces and looks away.
“Fucking fags,” she mutters as she turns and stomps off.
Booster rubs his face with one palm, groaning softly. “Smooth, huh?”
Ted doesn’t answer. He’s finding it hard to breathe. Is that what they look like to the outside world? Jesus, they even share a room, a bed. That’s what he’d be, wouldn’t it, if he --
“Beetle?”
“I’m... tired,” Ted mutters, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to bed.” Their bed. Shit. He wonders for a moment if he could head out to the Bug again, curl up on the small bench in the back, but he feels like he can barely walk to the room, let alone all the way out to the Bug.
“Ted,” Booster urges quietly. “Can’t we talk?”
“No,” he states flatly. “You, you do whatever you want, Booster. I’m exhausted. Just leave me alone.”
He doesn’t look back, just finds the elevator, finds the floor, finds the room, finds the bed. He refuses to think, refuses to ponder. He’s just exhausted. Exhausted, most of all, by himself.
The sheets are cool against his skin, and no surprise, sleep doesn't seem to find him. He tries not to think where Booster might be, what he might be doing. With whom he might be doing it.
The last thing Ted knows when he falls into a fitful sleep is he’s the only one in the bed.
He wakes up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping outside. The sun’s already up, illuminating the white-painted room, curtains waving gently in the breeze. Still groggy from sleep, the events of last night feels a little dimmer, like it was some kind of movie he saw, not himself. Not Booster. He stretches in bed with a groan, and jumps when his arm hits something warm, firm.
Booster’s sleeping next to him.
There's both a sting of pain and of relief at the sight of him. He's relieved Booster didn’t stay the night somewhere else, that... Larry or Tina or whoever didn’t get to keep him, to wake up to this, the warmth of him, the weight of him in bed. Pain because --
Because what the hell is all of this good for?
Ted’s about to get up, get dressed, leave for the day, hope that a night's sleep and a day's absence will push the reset button again, that when he comes back they'll start over, but he pauses. He wants... He would like to stay here a little longer. Wants to have this secret little moment, the one that Tina, Larry didn't get. Because he knows these secret little moments is the best he can ever hope for.
He studies Booster, asleep, curled up on his side, facing Ted. His hand under his head, his legs pulled up, the covers kicked off, on the floor. It’s almost funny, that a man as tall and built as Booster can sleep like this, curled up like a cat. He looks so peaceful, breathing so softly it’s not even possible to hear it in the stillness of the room, the only telling is the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Ted sighs. Booster can be so beautiful it hurts to look at him.
Like Ted, he’s wearing his shirt and underwear in bed. The yellow shirt, the tank top, is bunched up at his chest, probably from turning in his sleep, revealing his tan, warm stomach, the abs barely visible now, in this position, when he’s relaxed like this. And below, his orange Y-fronts with the white seams, and within... The soft bulge, the shape and curve of him.
Don’t be creepy, Ted, he tells himself and forces himself to raise his gaze.
Seeing the way Booster’s hair is tousled and untidy from sleep feels almost intimate. Booster’s so mindful of his hair, even running his fingers through it, flattening it, shaping it, when he gets nervous or restless. His hair never stays messy for long, not many people get to see it that way.
Ted soaks in the sight of him, the tender beauty of him, looks at the curve of his neck, the dip of his clavicle. Thinks suddenly about the cologne ad Booster did that time. Thinks how close he is to the real thing, that body in the magazine, the perfection of him, just inches away.
He looks up again, and sees Booster squinting sleepily at him.
“Hey,” Booster’s voice is hoarse and groggy, coming out more like a whisper. “Mornin’, Beetle. Wow, hello.”
Ted looks at him, confused, and follows Booster’s gaze, downward. To Ted’s gray boxer shorts, to his erection pressing against the fabric.
Fuck, when did that happen?
“Oh God, sorry.” Ted covers himself with his hand and sits up in bed, his back to Booster. “Just one of those mornings.”
“I bet,” Booster mutters. And Ted hears the implication, about last night. About the night of the party. And Ted's body aches from looking at Booster, admiring Booster, and he can feel the weight of him on the other side of the mattress. And he can't stand it, can't think of anything to say.
The birds keep on chirping outside.
Maybe it'd be easier if they kept fighting, kept arguing, maybe something would come of that. But he doesn't want to fight, for them to sneer at each other. That isn't what he wants at all right now.
Ted feels the bed shift, Booster moving, and he forces himself not to glance at him. But if Booster were to embrace him, kiss his shoulder or breathe against his neck right now, that’d be it. Ted wouldn’t be able to stop himself, he knows that. Every harsh word, every moment of angry tension wouldn't matter. He’d be like putty, eager and willing like that night. If Booster would touch him.
Instead Booster raises his arms over his head and stretches lazily, to his full, daunting length, and he groans loudly, almost whimpering, and the sound is so familiar, burned into Ted’s mind from the night of the party. Is Booster doing this on purpose? Does he know how fucking hot that noise is?
God. Stop fooling yourself, stop sitting here like a horny, frustrated mess. He’s using every atom of his being concentrating on steadying his breathing, but he’s certain Booster can hear his racing heart beat.
He can't rise and get dressed either, pretending he isn't rock hard. He eyes the door to the bathroom, and knows his only course of action. Just... Excuse himself and lock himself in and desperately jerk off, get the situation under control. Clear his mind. Then he can figure out where they're at today.
He casts a glance back at Booster, lying on his back the other side of the bed, watching Ted, frowning. Ted feels a hot flush travel up his neck to his face.
“Okay, I‘m just gonna --" He clears his throat and rises from the bed.
“Wait.”
He looks back at Booster, certain his face must be bright red, and Booster looks at him, searching his face, as Ted self-consciously sits back down on the bed, crossing his legs to make the bulge less obvious.
They look at each other. A long, naked, despairing moment passing between them. The room so silent, the only sound the twittering of birds outside.
Finally Booster sighs and flops back, staring at the ceiling. “Fuck, Ted, can’t we just talk?”
Ted swallows and looks down at his hands.
“I, I don’t know how approach this from any more angles,” Booster groans. “Ted, please. Please. Can’t you just tell me?”
Ted takes a deep unsteady breath, still staring at his hands. “What do you want me to say?” he mutters, his voice thin in the morning air.
“That, that I’m not crazy here.”
Ted feels the bed shift and out of the corner of his eye he can see Booster sit up in bed, facing him.
“That you feel about me the way I -- the way I told you I did.” Booster pauses. “Or... if it’s not exactly the same, at least let me hear it’s in the same ballpark, because -- because you keep giving me these little... tastes, these little glimpses and then you try to convince me they never happened, and it’s driving me crazy.”
There’s a pause, and Ted knows he’s supposed to speak, fill the silence, but he doesn’t work, his voice, his lungs, his body is frozen in place.
“Ted, come on,” Booster pleads, pulling his fingers through his hair, flattening down his sleep-tousled hair. “Just... just tell me you like me, or, or love me or want to fuck me, and we can figure out where to go from there. Can you please just tell me?”
Ted squeezes his eyes shut, he feels like he’s burning up and cold as ice all at the same time. A fucking coward.
Booster exhales sharply. “For fuck’s sake.” The bed shifts as Booster gets up and walks to the window, looking out like... Like he did that night at the party. When it was all over.
“I can’t take any more of this,” Booster mutters, his voice shaky, and he massages the side of his neck. “I just can’t, Ted. I’m -- I’m gonna ask J’onn if I can be stationed with the Europe team for a while, just... Get some distance. Get my head in the game again, because this --”
“Yes,” Ted mutters.
Booster doesn't turn, doesn't look at him. “Yes what?”
“Yes, I do, I...” Ted’s voice breaks, and he clears his throat. “I think I’m in love with you.”