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“You do not need another t-shirt.”
“I absolutely do”
“You do not.”
Demetri stares at the T-rex hates push-ups t-shirt like he’s uncovered a priceless relic. Except it does indeed have a price, and it’s 29.99 more dollars than Eli wants to spend.
“We can’t buy everything in here. Weren’t the tacosaurus socks enough?”
“Listen, you should be thanking me.” Demetri turns to regard him with raised eyebrows. “If my fashion sense is groanworthy enough, then none of America’s promising youth at Cornell are going to want to steal your boyfriend.”
Eli tries to push away the anxious gnaw in his bones.
(Bones. Of course all the dinosaur skeletons have him thinking about bones.)
He searches Demetri’s expression, scanning green eyes for any resentment or bitterness. There’s nothing but twinkling amusement.
He probably should chill with the paranoia. If Demetri didn’t want to give up his spot at MIT, then he wouldn’t have. Demetri Alexopoulos is more than capable of paving his own way through life without anyone else’s input.
He’s never been one to give in to peer pressure, even from his best friend. He sure didn’t as far as the-snake-dojo-that-must-not-be-named was concerned.
“You’re looking at me weird.”
Right. He’s staring.
“Sorry, just.” Eli studies a stuffed pterodactyl display. “You want to go to Cornell, right? I know it must’ve been weird to ditch your lifelong dream.”
Demetri looks genuinely surprised.
“I haven’t thought about MIT in weeks,” he says. “I’m too busy being relieved I get to stay with you.”
Eli sighs. “You really wanted to win the Robocup.”
“Yeah! With you!” Demetri gestures so aggressively he nearly knocks another t-shirt off its rack. “I mean yes, I always had this epic vision of us going off to some ‘smart people school’ and changing the world. And yes, I’d still prefer to end up at a college that looks halfway decent on a job application. But it defeats the whole point if you’re not there.”
“You could win the Robocup without me.”
“Of course! And then I fill it with my lonely tears while you’re off partying it up who-knows-where and sticking beer cups on your hair spikes. How ideal.”
Despite himself, Eli snickers.
“Really, though, I’m kind of the idiot for never once re-evaluating a life goal I made when I was literally 4.” Eli isn’t expecting the embarrassment that twists Demetri’s expression, but it’s far from unwelcome. “It’s like I didn’t want to change as a person at all. I thought Younger Me was this great, irrefutable authority on all things, and must know what’s best for me for all time. And best for you too, I guess. But considering that guy also thought I was straight…I’m feeling like he’s a dumbass.”
Eli spit-laughs all over the stupid T-rex hates push-ups t-shirt that Demetri is going to insist on buying.
“That, and you shouldn’t trust the opinions of someone who uses a fucking hadrosaur sippy cup.”
They meander along the wall, taking in all the overpriced merchandise. Eli’s eye catches on another one of the t-shirts, this one black with a T-Rex skull design in pastel rainbow colors.
He pulls it toward him, inspecting it. “Don’t you own this shirt?”
Demetri’s expression turns sheepish. “Oh, right. My mom bought that for me in 5th grade, and I ended up using it as a sleeping shirt. Never could bring myself to wear it out in public because of…well, you know. I mean, the only reason she even got it for me in the first place was to try and make me realize some things.”
“And did you realize those things?” Eli asks pointedly.
Demetri chuckles. “Nearly a decade later than she intended, but yes. Yes, I did.”
A moment later, Eli knows he’s in for something truly heinous when Demetri starts dramatically gasping and yanking his arm.
“Eli, look! It’s you!”
Eli sighs deeply, but can’t manage a denial.
“I’m buying this.”
Demetri seizes the shirt, holding it in front of Eli. Eli smacks it away, although he has a feeling protesting is a lost cause.
“‘Metri, you are not spending 40 bucks to get me the ‘rage pigeon’ sweatshirt.”
“I’m doing exactly that. Don’t worry, I’ll earn it back someday at the high-end Silicon Valley job I get with my Ivy League robotics degree.”
“All this to make fun of me?” Eli scoffs. “You’re committed, Alexopoulos. You’re lucky I don’t talk with my fists anymore.”
Demetri gasps, clutching both his hand and the Field Museum’s SUE: Rage Pigeon sweatshirt to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, I am not making fun of you! I happen to find both your rage and your small avian pest tendencies to be a delight. And incredibly sexy, to boot.”
“You’re not getting out of this one, you fuck.” Eli shoves his side. “I’m not gonna do anything in front of the dinosaurs, but as soon as they kick us out at closing, you’re dead meat.”
“Awwww, is the little bird angry?”
Eli pounces, nearly knocking over a stack of build-your-own-saber-toothed-tiger kits. Demetri, smug little bastard he is, catches him easily and loops an arm around his shoulder, cackling all the while.
“Come now,” Demetri purrs in his ear. “You’re a rage pigeon, but you’re my rage pigeon.”
And for some reason, that’s when Eli’s brain decides it’s over for him. He melts—nothing but a limp, golden-mohawked puddle against Demetri’s chest.
Possessiveness probably shouldn’t be a turn-on, but Eli hasn’t had a lot of people in his life who want to lay unquestionable claim to him. Whether it’s as a student, son, nephew, friend, boyfriend—no one seems inclined to shout that one’s mine in a booming, authoritative tone. He once hoped he could spark that kind of devotion in Moon, but it didn’t take long to see she didn’t view him as irreplaceable. He’d thought etching her name in his skin could win her love—make him worthy of being kept. But it did nothing to keep her in his life, and about as much to persuade her to love him as his mom’s meddling phone call did to stop him being bullied.
And then there was Demetri, who had been going around shouting that one’s mine since they were children. All while Eli had been too caught up in his head and his own self-loathing to notice.
Demetri’s arm starts to fall away. Eli catches it on the way down, wrapping their hands together.
“Shit, Eli, look!”
And then he’s being tugged across the store to a shelf full of every variety of plastic dinosaur imaginable. Demetri whistles approvingly.
“Okay, get out your wallet. We are decorating our dorm room.”
“Wh—Demetri, we are not buying duplicates.” Because, really, Eli has to put his foot down somewhere. “You already have all of these, you moron. You’re telling me you don’t still have them in a box under your bed somewhere?”
Demetri shrugs non-committaly. “I might.”
“So we’ll cram them in our suitcases when we come back from, like, winter break or something. Boom, 50 bucks saved.”
Demetri’s eyes trail thoughtfully over each bin, like he’s tallying the species.
“I can’t believe you remembered all my dinosaurs,” he says finally, voice strangely quiet. “You’re right. They’re all here.”
“How could I not?” Eli snorts, trying his best for a dismissive and definitely-not-flustered-and-swooning tone. “We played with those things, like, every day. Pretty sure I could write some insane novels with the plotlines we used.”
Demetri nods sagely. “Maybe you could major in TV writing. If you manage to come up with the next Land Before Time-style cash cow, then I think perhaps you’ll be the breadwinner.”
His tone is light and teasing, the absence of any passive-aggressiveness or subtle judgment putting Eli at ease.
Demetri was surprisingly sanguine about him admitting he wasn’t sure he wanted to study something techy. When Eli told him he was going in undeclared, Demetri actually encouraged him to take his time figuring out what he wanted to do.
“I’m sorry if I ever pressured you into something you didn’t want,” he said. “I want you to do your own thing, and I want you to be happy. But you’re an idiot if you think that means you’re getting rid of me.”
It turned out he didn’t care that Eli wasn’t married to robotics or programming or computer science like he was—he just wanted him close by.
It’s nice.
Especially strange coming from Demetri, who’s always been so sure of himself. Who’s always had his life mapped out in his head with very little wiggle room. (The fact that Cornell fell into that miniscule amount of wiggle room will forever surprise Eli.)
And yet. He doesn’t mind the one to his zero being a little lost and a little uncertain and still trying to figure out who he is and how he wants his life to go. He approaches it all with the airy confidence that no matter what happens, he’ll still love the Eli that comes out the other side.
Eli wonders how he does it.
He picks up a nearby sauropod, studying it. “Pretty sure this is the one we were playing with when you said we were going to go to MIT.”
“Right, yeah.” Demetri studies the long-extinct beast over his shoulder. “I remember we had to make an arts-and-crafts thing of our favorite dinosaur, and Cameron Kaminski subjected us all to the most low-effort travesty known to man. And when he had the nerve to call it a brachiosaurus, I had to say ‘no, actually, you can clearly tell from the head shape and the way the neck is positioned that it’s an apatosaurus.’ And then the kid says ‘who cares? They’re all dead anyways!’ and the whole class laughed it up.”
Eli winces. The face of kindergarten Demetri, crushed and humiliated and utterly disappointed, comes back to him in a rush.
It was the first of many heavily-ignored lessons on why it wasn’t a good idea for Demetri to run his mouth. Still, at the time, he was genuinely trying to be helpful.
Well. Helpful with a side of snide superiority, anyways. Truly amazing how Demetri Alexopoulos mastered that skill after only walking the earth for 5 years.
“Only took you a second to recover,” Eli recalls. “You started ranting about why dinosaur species differences are still relevant to modern animal classifications, or evolutionary trees, or…something.”
If there’s one thing he remembers about Demetri, it’s that he spent just about all of elementary and middle school not knowing when to quit. This may have contributed to his burnout by the time high school rolled around, where quitting was immediate and instinctive.
Demetri sighs. “Yeah, and then he called me ‘Old Dead Lizardboy’ for the rest of the year.”
“He did,” Eli confirms wearily. He tosses the brachiosaurus in the air, catching it neatly.
“I was so mad, though.” Demetri shakes his head. “You came over after school, and I told you all about how one day, we were going to go live at this magical place called MIT where only super smart people were allowed in, and we wouldn’t have to deal with any more ignoramuses. I read all about it on my mom’s iPad, and all we needed was to do good on some tests we’d have to take in like a million years.”
“Oh, god. You did call Cameron Kaminski an ignoramus.” Eli makes a face. “You’re so embarrassing. Why did I ask you out again?”
Demetri breaks into a smirk that’s as annoying as it is endearing.
“Beats me. A horrible mistake on your part, considering now you’re stuck with me.”
He elbows Demetri, and Demetri snickers.
“And how’s the ignoramus population at Cornell?”
“Probably pretty low.”
It’s about then that Eli gets the distinct impression they have an audience.
He turns slowly to see two young boys, 7 or 8 or so, standing at the edge of the plastic dinosaur rack and gawking at him and Demetri. Their eyes are flicking from the conjoined hands to the massive selection of prehistoric lizards, filled with a mixture of awe and fascination.
Considering they look nothing alike, it’s easy to tell they’re not brothers. One is tall and lanky, with a head full of coarse, dark curls. The other is shorter and pudgier, round face framed by a messy, dirty blonde mop.
In an instant, Eli sees a younger version of him and Demetri: A little team against the world, attached at the hip as they tried to piece together how everything around them worked.
Hell, they can’t be much older than Demetri and Eli were when Demetri decided he had to stop holding Eli’s hand in public, not wanting to subject the both of them to their classmates’ sneers. Perhaps that’s why these little boys are so intrigued.
Demetri shoots him a panicked look, and it takes everything in him for Eli to hold back his laughter. For all his yammering, Demetri always clams up around kids.
And so, in classic shit-stirrer fashion, Eli says hi to them.
He half expects them to flee in terror. He certainly would at that age if an adult tried to interact with him. That, or hide behind Demetri and let him bore the grown-ups with his rambling until they forgot whatever they were going to force Eli to talk about.
Instead, the taller one says “I didn’t know you were allowed to still like dinosaurs when you got that big!”
“Yeah,” the other one pipes up. “My dad says when you get older, you like football and investments.”
Perhaps Eli should know better, but he’s not above messing with these kids a bit. Making those little brains work for their food.
He chuckles. “If grown-ups aren’t allowed to like dinosaurs, who do you think dug up all those skeletons in the other room?”
“Big kids,” the tall one says confidently. “Like, really big kids. 6th graders, even.”
Eli places the brachiosaurus on Demetri’s shoulder, snickering as his boyfriend has no idea how to respond.
“No one demands you stop liking dinosaurs in middle school.” It’s technically true—by some miracle, dinosaurs had not been among the things their preteen classmates terrorized them about. “We’ve been into them since we were your age.”
“Really?” The short one’s face lit up.
“Yeah! We used to play with these all the time.”
He pulls the brachiosaurus from Demetri and parades it around the air, making exaggerated roaring noises. He earns a series of giggles from the kids and a reluctant half-smile from his boyfriend.
The short one tips his head. “You’ve known each other that long?”
Eli’s chest warms as he confirms it. It’s comforting to think about sometimes.
The blonde kid fixes them with a thoughtful expression.
“Me ‘n Tyson have been best friends since we were babies,” he declares, in that deadly serious tone only young children use. “Are we still gonna be best friends and like dinosaurs when we’re old like you?”
The slight tinge of nervousness is almost amusing—like the slow march of time will come for everything this boy loves, and he will have no say in the matter.
Perhaps Demetri felt that way once. Perhaps he convinced himself that Eli trying to change everything about himself was just what happened when you got older, and that’s why he eventually faced it with a miserable, resigned acceptance.
Perhaps there was a time Demetri thought that Eli leaving him was as natural and inevitable a process as your hair losing color or gaining a bad back when you turned 40.
Eli tries not to fixate on the guilt wriggling its way through his stomach. He knows Demetri wouldn’t want him to.
Nonetheless, he does grip Demetri’s hand a little tighter.
“Sure,” he tells the blonde kid. “If you want to. You can do whatever you want.”
“Scott’s mom says eventually we’re gonna care about girls and then it’ll turn our brains to mush,” the tall kid—Tyson, apparently—retorts.
Eli laughs. Scott’s mom isn’t entirely wrong.
“It’s a possibility,” he admits. “But there are ways to survive it. Here, think fast!”
The kids barely have time to brace themselves before the brachiosaurus is hurling toward them at top speed. The short boy—Scott?—leaps in front of Tyson and catches it just in time.
Good reflexes on that one. Eli’s sure he would’ve been smacked in the face and knocked clean over when he was that age.
He salutes his goodbye and makes his way toward the checkout counter, a reluctant Demetri in tow (thinking up protests to stop and grab this or that piece of costly memorabilia, undoubtedly).
They really need to not empty their bank accounts before freshman year even starts.
And then a tub by the picture book display catches Eli’s eye.
“Demetri. Demetri, we have to.”
With all his All-Valley Champion strength, Eli hauls his admittedly-much-bigger boyfriend to the sea of Tyrannosaurus Rex plushies. (Although considering how difficult Demetri can be to haul, even with a championship under your belt, there’s a good chance he isn’t that opposed to the detour.)
“Come on!” Eli picks up two of the T-Rexes, thrusting one into Demetri’s arms. “They’ll be our sons.”
“Oh? Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?” Demetri says cheekily. “Now who was lecturing me about how we can’t blow all our money here? ‘Oh, Demetri, we can’t buy this! We can’t buy that! If we spend 20 more dollars we’ll have to go to the soup kitchen and beg for scraps!’”
Eli’s pretty sure his voice does not sound that embarrassing. He elbows Demetri hard, and Demetri cackles like the little shit he is.
“This is different,” Eli says. “This isn’t some impulse buy. This is the serious adult commitment of parenthood.”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
Demetri holds the T-Rex close to his chest, and Eli’s heart soars.
God, he loves this man. He loves him, and he spends so much of his time feeling royally stupid for ever writing him off as some hopelessly unattainable concept he was doomed to pine after for the rest of his days.
He feels so stupid for resigning himself to the fact Demetri would never want him, when in retrospect, it was obvious Demetri had never truly wanted anyone else.
Still, he isn’t about to take that for granted.
“What are you going to name him?” he asks Demetri.
Demetri holds the plush dinosaur away, studying it.
“Touchdown,” he says lightly.
Touchdown. Touchdown as in the name of Cornell’s unofficial mascot, a bear donated by a random civilian because somehow, an Ivy League school hadn’t gotten around to adopting an official mascot in over 150 years.
(At least the situation isn’t as dire as at Dartmouth, which is currently being represented by an anthropomorphic beer keg at sporting events.)
Demetri really is going the extra mile to show he’s embracing Cornell. To show this is a future he wholeheartedly wants. To show he’s not mad about MIT.
Maybe one of these days, Eli should start believing him.
It isn’t too different from what Eli did when he joined Miyagi Do. The lotus tattoo, the azure hair, and the steady refusal to pull out his fists until absolutely necessary were all ways of showing that he was leaving Cobra Kai in the past, and perhaps more importantly, that his future was Demetri. They were his ways of saying “I’m choosing you. I’m choosing you over power and prestige and grandeur and whatever other bullshit I was delusional enough to think was more important.”
This seems to be Demetri’s version of that.
But Eli has a tighter wrangle on his emotions than he once did. So instead of bawling, he just nods approvingly.
“How Cornellian of you.”
“What are you naming yours?”
And when Demetri fixes him with that all-consuming green gaze, he realizes he didn’t think that far.
Well, Eli Moskowitz didn’t win a championship for not being quick on his feet.
He shrugs, like it truly isn’t something he has to think that hard about. “Ajax.”
“Like the guy from Deadpool?”
“And the toilet cleaner.”
Demetri snickers. “Shit, I’d better not ever call him Francis. He’d hear me from all the way across campus and break out of the dorm room to come maul me.”
“Are you married?”
They turn, movements nearly in unison, to see Scott’s head poking over the top of the T-Rex bin. His face is still bright with the rapt interest from earlier.
“My sister wants to know,” he adds, as though this is an important clarification.
Scott glances behind him. Eli follows his gaze to a 3 or 4-year-old girl, who immediately hides behind the plastic dinosaur rack before he can get a good look at her.
He chuckles. “No, we’re not married.”
“Are you gonna get married?” Scott demands.
Eli’s face burns. Honestly, who is he to rule out that possibility?
“Not right now,” he manages, doing his best to sound nonchalant.
He looks to Demetri, who is eyeing the elementary schooler in what can only be described as fear. Eli has to hold back a snicker, reminding himself to get on Demetri’s ass later about being terrified of children.
The terror only grows as Tyson wanders over, plucking a T-Rex from the bin and inspecting it.
“Are you allowed to like stuffed animals when you get older, too?” he asks. “Because Brandon Gallagher says stuffed animals are for babies.”
“When you’re our age, you can tell people like Brandon Gallagher to go f—take a hike.” Eli stops himself just in time. “Because we’re taking these to college, and if anyone has a problem with it, we both know karate.”
He puts down Ajax long enough to showcase some dramatic chops, complete with cheesy sound effects. Scott giggles, and Tyson’s eyes widen in delight.
“You do karate too?” Tyson gushes.
“Tyson’s almost a master,” Scott chips in. “He’s a purple belt, so he could beat up, like, anyone. I’m just an orange belt, but maybe someday I’ll be as good as him.”
“You don’t need to be good at karate!” Tyson turns, giving his friend a stern look. “You’re already good at science.”
Oh, I’m about to blow their minds.
“Demetri here’s good at both.”
The kids’ eyes widen even more. Eli turns to beam at his boyfriend.
He’s studying the T-Rex bin, pale cheeks tinged with pink and entire body stiff with embarrassment. Eli gives his hand a squeeze.
Own it. You deserve it.
“You can do that?” Scott asks.
“That’s crazy.” Tyson’s voice drops, thick with reverence. “Are they gonna, like, make him the president?”
Finally, Eli’s defenses give way. He bursts out laughing. Even Demetri, ever trying to pretend he’s ignoring this conversation, can’t help a couple snickers.
The two kids stare, baffled. They don’t know what to make of what they view as a perfectly legitimate question being laughed off.
Part of Eli feels bad, but most of him doesn’t care.
“He wishes,” Eli manages finally.
The kids are a little disappointed.
“But hey, keep at it,” Eli says. “Who knows? Maybe someday, you guys will be winning karate tournaments and science fair prizes in the same week.”
“No way.” Scott crosses his arms, pouting. “Tyson, yeah, but I don’t win stuff. I get 5th place in, like, everything. Sometimes 3rd if I’m really, really good.”
“You never know.” Eli shrugs. “I didn’t start winning anything until I was older.”
It’s strange to think about. He’s won karate championships and spots at Ivy League universities and girls and even guys he’d like to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn’t have imagined any of that when he was 7.
Ironic how much of his life he’s spent thinking of himself as a loser, and now it’s been months since he’s felt like he’s lost anything.
He supposes he did, on a technical level. He lost the Sekai Taikai qualifying fight. He lost the 6th tournament spot to Demetri. He lost when Cobras cornered him and destroyed his brand new hair.
But in the face of all his triumphs, it feels insignificant.
A shrill voice rings out across the gift shop, and Scott’s head turns.
“We have to go,” he says quickly. “Bye, mister!”
“They should make you president,” Tyson adds, pointing at Demetri as he walks away.
Demetri laughs again, shaking his head.
“The education system is failing Gen Alpha if they think that’s how our government works,” he mutters as soon as the boys are out of earshot.
“Like you’d know how to lead an entire country when you can’t even talk to kids.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He loops his arm around Touchdown the T-Rex and stands, pulling Eli to his feet. He tugs them toward the checkout counter, hold more insistent this time.
“Come on,” he sighs. “We do need to get a move on if I’m going to take you to the Hall of Birds before they close. This was supposed to be an ‘us’ day, not just a ‘me’ day.”
“Hey!” Eli feels strangely defensive. “I like dinosaurs too!”
“Yes,” Demetri says cheekily. “Which is why I’d hate for us to miss out on one of the country’s best displays of modern dinosaurs.”
“Right, but like. I’ll be cool with it if we spend most of our time in the evolution exhibit. I’m having fun, too.”
He gave up his museum wishlist, Demetri gave up a spot at one of the country’s top technological universities. It’s more than a fair trade.
Add on everything he did while he was wearing his hair red, and he should probably be going to whatever museums Demetri likes and doing whatever he wants at them for the rest of both their lives.
Demetri only cocks an eyebrow. “Like I would ever pass up the opportunity to point at every stupid-looking bird with some ridiculous, overdramatic headgear and go ‘look! It’s you!’”
And Eli can’t help but smile, because of course Demetri doesn’t think anything of making time for what Eli wants. Of course he shrugs and rolls with it and makes a dumb joke, just like always.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m going to point at every weird lanky waterbird with those stupid long legs and go ‘look! It’s you!’”
“Touche, Moskowitz, but if they have those sound buttons that show you what cute cheepy little noises hawks actually make—”
“Excuse me.”
The same shrill voice from earlier makes them both turn.
The woman who’s stepped behind them in the checkout line has a hard, pinched face, like she’s perpetually smelling something sour. Her bleached blonde hair is cut into a perfect I-want-to-speak-to-the-manager bob, although her roots, Eli notices, are the same dirty blonde shade as Scott’s.
“Do you have to do that in front of my children?” The end of her mouth curls slightly.
Eli frowns. He’d made a conscious effort not to swear, or generally be inappropriate. “Do what?”
“That.” She gestures to their intertwined hands.
Oh.
A year ago, she would get a fist to the nose and Eli would get an aggravated assault charge. He likes to think he’s a little smarter now.
He widens his eyes innocently—the very picture of naivete. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he says, gripping Demetri’s hand a little more firmly.
The woman scoffs. “Look, if you have to choose that lifestyle, keep it behind closed doors. You don’t need to be cramming your ideology down everyone’s throats.”
“What ideology?” Demetri speaks up, all doe eyes and simple curiosity. “We weren’t even doing anything.”
Eli has to hold back a smile.
Demetri gets it and jumps right on board. No matter what he does, Demetri always understands.
It’s second nature.
“Your…” She gestures wildly. “PDA. This degenerate showboating you’re waving around everywhere. Have your politics, fine. That’s none of my business. But don’t force it on others.”
“Oh.” Eli speaks like he’s realizing her gripe for the first time. “Have you never…held hands with someone you’re dating? In public?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s completely different.”
“Is it?”
There’s a little bit of flint in Demetri’s tone—subtle enough for their fellow customer to miss while Eli picks it up.
The woman shakes her head, scowling.
“You’re sick, indoctrinating children like that. You should be ashamed.”
“We talked to them about dinosaurs,” Eli says honestly.
She narrows her eyes.
“The last thing I need is them growing up wanting to be like you. Stay away from them, or I’ll call the police.” A chilling glint swam into her expression. “I don’t think they’d take well to your kind talking to other people’s children.”
The weight of the implication lands on Eli like a lead pipe. Suddenly, he wants to throw up.
Something shifts in Demetri’s demeanor. His eyes harden, body stiffening as he straightens his back and rises to his full height. He’s always been a sloucher, but that’s all gone in a nanosecond.
He takes a step, putting Eli slightly behind him. Their fingers are still linked, Demetri holding so tightly it almost hurts.
“Hey.” His voice is a low, guttural growl that Eli has only heard a handful of times in his life. “Why don’t you fuck off and leave my boyfriend and I alone?”
Eli feels a shiver tingle through him, and is suddenly very glad Demetri’s on his side in all this.
Fucking hell. He forgets sometimes how terrifying Demetri can be when someone has wholly and truly pissed him off. The combination of stature, well-toned muscles, and a broad-shouldered frame could make even the brashest of people cower.
And Eli has a feeling his position as “the person Demetri’s in love with” has always spared him from his boyfriend at his most daunting.
The woman behind them certainly isn’t as confident as she was a moment ago. She shrinks back, lost for words. By the time she seems ready to formulate a response, it’s Eli and Demetri’s turn in line.
And just like that, Demetri is all lopsided smiles and idle chatter again. He compliments the cashier on her P. longiceps earrings (“pterrific with a ‘p’”, he hastens to specify), and declares that he’s always thought people at such educational institutions should be paid at least 5 times more. A topic he didn’t feel particularly strongly about before today, Eli notices.
As they exit the gift shop, Eli laughs nervously.
“Damn, dude. I don’t think you know how scary you are sometimes.”
Demetri’s entire being glows with pride, although Eli can tell he’s trying to suppress it. All these years, and he still doesn’t know how to handle people praising him for things he’s convinced himself he’s bad at.
Demetri Alexopoulos is not scary. He has never been scary, and it’s clearly causing some painful cognitive dissonance to wrap his mind around this changing.
He’ll have to suck it up, though, because Eli isn’t about to stop hyping up the absolute menace of a human that is his boyfriend.
“That was hot,” he adds, a little impishly.
Demetri shrugs, trying (unsuccessfully) to be blasé.
“Ah, well, I could tell she was stressing you out.” He rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure she was talking a load of guff, anyways. Like what’s she going to do? Press charges for homosexual hand-holding? Maybe that’s a once-a-week occurrence in whatever backwater Wisconsin shithole she’s visiting from, but Chicago’s full of gay people. You won’t have time to do anything else on your little vacation if you antagonize them all.”
“And it’s not like the cops don’t have better shit to do.”
“Right.” Demetri smirks. “In any case, I figured I’d have a little fun.”
Eli makes a face. “I feel bad for her kids, though. Growing up with a mom like that.”
“No kidding.” Demetri whistles. “What a character.”
A silence falls—not quite awkward, but not quite companionable, either. On the way down the stairs, Demetri keeps shooting glances at him.
Eli can’t for the life of him read Demetri’s expression. Which is annoying, considering he’s usually so…open with his feelings and opinions.
Or at least Eli’s thought of him that way for a long time. But maybe that, like so many other things, is changing too.
And maybe that’s okay.
A few paces past the café, Demetri stops. He turns, gripping Eli’s shoulder with his free hand.
“Hey.” He speaks softly—the tone he always uses when he worries Eli’s in a particularly vulnerable place. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Eli frowns, suddenly embarrassed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seemed a little shaken up.”
He shrugs. “It’s some bitchy lady. It’s whatever.”
It’s not whatever, and part of him knows it.
“Is it…uncomfortable for you?” Suddenly, Demetri won’t meet his eyes. “Openly, um, being with me? Having to deal with people like that? Because, I mean, there’s always going to be assholes, but—”
And when he hears the note of pain in Demetri’s voice, Eli knows he needs to make his intentions crystal clear.
He stands on his tiptoes, wrapping his arm around Demetri’s neck and kissing him hard. Right in front of the entire second story of the Field Museum and Máximo the Titanosaur, no less.
Demetri’s arm slides down to wrap around the small of his back. He grins against Demetri’s mouth.
“I love you,” Eli whispers as he pulls away. “And I don’t care who knows it.”
Demetri doesn’t let go, arm still holding him firmly in place. He presses their foreheads together, beaming.
“Really?” he teases. “You’d subject Máximo to all that?”
“Maybe he’s an ally.”
“All right, then.” Demetri flicks him playfully in the back. “There will be plenty of time for making out and similar activities at the hotel. For now, though, we need to get on with the birds. How else will we have time to put on our new shirts and pose with Touchdown and Ajax in that photobooth by the east entrance?”
“Wh—Demetri! That’s so fucking cheesy!”
“Exactly the point, my rage pigeon,” Demetri purrs. “Am I not allowed to be a sap with my own boyfriend, whom I love very much?”
Eli’s cheeks burn. “No! Oh my god, I can’t fucking stand you.”
“And yet you told me you loved me not 2 minutes ago. I smell a liar.”
“I am not getting in that dumb photobooth with you, wearing that stupid shirt.”
Then again, Eli has the unfortunate feeling he’ll end up doing exactly that.
After all, he’s never been able to say no to Demetri.