Okay, so... hi. Again. Um...
Okay, look, mea culpa - I've had this lying around for ages and I meant to post and... no excuses. Sincerest apologies. This was already looooooooooooooong completed by the time I posted Ch 3, I think, but I've never liked it enough to really labour over it like I did with the pro-and proceeding chapters (currently up to 10, in fact), and it took ages to get it done. Half of it lay around for years, then I wrote the back end in one night and never looked at it again. I've recently added something to it which will become important later on, so hopefully that doesn't need further tweaking or I'm screwed.
Anyway, if anyone is still reading, onward!
-tDN
- Road trip, part 1.
Alec eventually walked in to breakfast to a mixed chorus of comments and observations.
"There he is. You can call off the search party." Damien's tart contribution was the final one. Alec ignored all of them, winking at Matt and suppressing a grin as he pulled up a chair at the table and selected a few items from Simon's impressive buffet.
"We were just wondering -- what's our ETD?" Chris asked. "Nobody can quite remember what we decided on last night. A little too much wine, I'm guessing."
The big trip -- the very reason all of them were together right now -- was for a long weekend away at a particularly impressive, large house a little way up the coast. It was perched on a rise, about thirty metres above the sea, with a path leading down to a secluded beach and belonged to old friends of Nick's exceptionally well-connected family. Knowing they were away in France and Portugal for a month, he had managed to wangle use of the place this weekend.
"Well, we're all pretty much ready. If we head up hell-bent for leather we can be there in an hour and a half or so; a more leisurely pace and we're looking at an additional thirty or forty minutes," Nick said, pushing his fork through a brilliant red quarter tomato. "We're all already packed -- my guess is we can be out of here within an hour and be well up there, back in the house from a leisurely dip in the sea, including a quick stop for firewood and ice and a photo-opportunity from the copse overlooking the bay some time before we take lunch. We've got basically everything else already, don't we?"
There was a series of nods from around the table. Alec tucked in to a piece of ridiculously tender bacon, nothing like Matt's Cajun -- read: burned -- crispy strips or Nick's limp, broiled excuses.
"Settled, then," Simon said. "So that gives us an hour to pack the cars and get tarted up for the grand adventure. Nick, you'd best get started now, hadn't you? It's barely enough time as is!" A titter flowed around the table, stopping short at Nick as he glared at Simon from under his thick eyebrows.
"This place -- it's pretty small, right?" Matt asked. "Will there be somewhere to stop for firewood and ice that's open on Good Friday?"
"There's a general store there at the entrance which should be open today, and the hotel sells ice from their bar. If the worst comes to the worst, there is a big 1-stop food/fuel/bathrooms garage and rest spot about ten minutes further up the road, and they're open twenty four hours all year round."
"Hey -- who's looking after your cat?" Damien asked. "Four days is a long time."
"I have a guy taking the same courses as me popping in. He's only two blocks away," Nick replied. They had made sure of that first before planning any part of the big adventure; Nick and Fudge had been companions for four years now and he had no intention of neglecting her.
Forty nine minutes later they were all at the door. Nick and Alec were driving and their cars were pretty much loaded to capacity. Plenty of food -- easier to bring than to source out that way, particularly over a holiday weekend, Nick had reckoned -- as well as few sundry items like cameras, a football, two surfboards, a couple of magazines and Nick's Playstation were spread between the two cars; in addition, each of the guys had brought some personal items to keep them occupied.
Damien had left most of his luggage at the house; the housekeeping staff at the spa where they'd installed the new computer systems the week prior had been most generous in terms of washing and ironing all his laundry, so he had been able to quickly haul out a few t-shirts and likewise light gear for the weekend and pack them into an overnight bag. In addition, as only Damien could, he'd come bearing gifts of various sorts, illicitly smuggled through Customs. In particular, he was currently in possession of a fairly large amount of Belgian chocolate, courtesy of duty-free at Zaventem International outside Brussels.
"Padkos," he said with a grin, handing over a couple of bars to Simon; it was a traditional South African expression, translated literally as "food for the road" and basically meaning a drive-time snack. "No trip possible without padkos, I say."
"You are one hundred percent correct," Simon replied. In addition to the chocolate, Chris had bought some biltong along, a portion of which had gone to the Nick's car for Nick, Simon and Max to enjoy on the drive.
Damien climbed into Alec's car, in the back with Chris. Shotgun rules dictated that Matt would get the front seat unless he opted to give it up purely because he was Alec's current; there was no point in arguing which rear seat was nicer since both Alec and Matt were the same size, so there was an equivalent amount of space behind each of them.
"This larney place we're headed up to -- is it modern? Decent tv and all?" Damien asked. "If it has, I can plug my laptop in and we can watch some of the awesome DVDs I bought at Kastrup whilst on the long march back home. They have such amazing shops there. Dirt cheap, too. Simpsons box sets for less than half of what we get fleeced for here."
"I think so," Chris replied. "Apparently these mates of Nick's are loaded up to their eyeballs. They have everything which opens and shuts, so they'll probably have a home theatre." He winked at Damien. "There's even a Jacuzzi, and I know how much you love those!"
Chris assumed Damien was offering his soul to Satan in the wide-eyed silence which emanated from him as a blush crept swiftly across his cheeks.
"Several Jacuzzis," Matt said, oblivious to Damien's discomfort. "There's one on the upstairs deck and one in the main bathroom and a smaller one annexed onto the pool, according to Nick."
"That's a bit of alright, eh?" Damien managed. "Wow -- it must be nice to be so loaded."
"Apparently this guy was on the shortlist for an Enzo," Alec said. Chris whistled, low, in his seat.
"Shit! I wish that would happen to me," Damien muttered.
"He turned them down."
There was stunned silence briefly until Chris almost choked on a piece of biltong in the back seat. "Ferrari offered him the Enzo and he said no? Madness!" He shook his head. "They only made about four hundred of them, you know. And you had to be offered one. Not much more exclusive than that. And he said no? Someone, please, hit him!"
"Doesn't make a lot of sense," Alec agreed.
"My boss drives a Boxster," Damien said. "It's impressive, but not anywhere near a Ferrari, in my humble opinion."
"Yeah, but the Boxster isn't supposed to be anything vaguely near an Enzo. A new Carerra, maybe -- a turbo or GT3 -- but not a Boxster. That's a chick's Porsche," Chris replied.
"Come on!" Matt said. "What difference does it make, anyway? Those are all small penis cars. Beautiful, sure; but that's mini-salami stuff."
"Ooh, dude," Damien responded, "them's fightin' words."
"Well... you ever seen your boss's cock?" Matt asked innocently.
"No, never. Nice arse, though," Damien replied, Sahara dry. He winked at Matt. "And fantastic tits. As Chris said, it's a chick's car." He grinned. "Of course, I'm only too happy to drive it from time to time. Why not, right?"
The two cars headed north at fairly high speed; both were well over the 120km/h posted speed rate. Nick knew the road well enough to spot the temporary speed traps along the side of the road, as well as the three spots along the way where the traffic cops had put permanent cameras up. The mood in the cars was festive -- Nick's top-of-the-line MP3 sound system blaring a variety of contemporary hits; Alec's much more modest set-up tuned to Damien's iPod and iTrip with a good mix of their old favourites -- 90s era grunge and modern rock from the likes of Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains and the Sisters of Mercy -- and a few newer ones which the music buff Damien saw in himself reckoned would be classics soon enough. Currently he was tipping The Script and Death Cab for Cutie as ones to watch.
"My taste in music is too fucking awesome," Damien reckoned through a piece of fairly wet biltong. The others knew better than to argue -- Damien would wax at length about the state of the nation in music with the slightest of provocation; a raised eyebrow or even the merest hint of a contrary look on someone's face was justifiable grounds for attack, he felt -- and Chris merely handed him another large piece of biltong to shut him up.
Chris could feel the tension in himself receding with every passing kilometer. It was unusual these days for him to not have at least a base level of anxiety -- such is the way of the PhD student whose work is stuck in a rut and who is struggling to produce results at a rate which is not merely adequate or satisfactory, but impressive. It had been a bit of an awkward eight months or so, with several key experiments not quite going the way he'd anticipated, and he was feeling the pressure more than most. Pride, though, put him out of his way to maintain certain appearances.
So nobody knew about the pills he was taking; a mild course of antidepressants which were, on paper, to help him sleep, with the added bonus of the psychotropic activity to keep certain things normal and others a little more suppressed.
Still, each passing kilometer was one further out of the way, one thousand meters distance from his work and the lab. Yes, he enjoyed what he did very much -- the winemaking industry was truly fascinating; he had a lot of contacts and acquaintances in high places thanks to his affable nature, which made things that much easier -- but some days were better than others. In fact, to be completely honest, some days were better than most. This little break would do him the world of good, for one; two, Damien was there and that just could never be a bad thing, and three... well, three was a combination of this morning's little unexpected -- unwelcome? Not at all -- activity with Alec, and last night's top-secret activity with Max. Regardless of what anyone might say, sex worked really well as a reward for Chris -- it was by far the best way of releasing tension and stress for him. Peak performance out of the bedroom always coincided with any sort of performance in it, and Chris was not coping that well with a bit of a dry spell at the present time. Enter Max -- literally -- to rescue the day.
That particular affair was their little secret. While the short-lived relationship with Alec and subsequent spectacular collapse thereof was always going to hurt, each time they saw each other it got a little better, a little easier. Especially when it involved them seeing each other at Alec's place, because that's when Chris and Max could enjoy each other's company after the lights went out.
A year had passed since it started when Matt had everyone round for his birthday, and Chris had crashed at Alec's place. Everyone had all headed off to bed, piss-drunk or at least really ticking. Chris had been set up on the sleeper couch, and was lying awake, not quite tired or settled enough to fall asleep. Silence reigned for about half an hour.
Time alone was never wasted with Chris. He had a lot on his mind; always did when he was in Alec's company, alone or with other people, like tonight. Things were definitely getting better between them. There may still have been some distance to travel, but every day was a step closer to where they'd been before.
Then there was the research. That was touch and go some days. Most of the other PhD students, and many of the post-docs, that he'd spoken to mentioned that work slumped from time to time; he wondered though whether or not his own slump -- it was tending towards one big one these days -- was indicative of something perhaps more terminal.
Then he heard footsteps down the corridor, approaching. Someone came around the corner, quietly but not silently, and went into the kitchen. By the light of the fridge as the door opened, Chris discovered it was Max. He sat up slightly on his makeshift bed. Max poured himself a glass of wine and was heading out of the kitchen when he noticed Chris sitting up.
"I'm sorry I woke you," Max said, an apologetic grin and a slight frown crossing his visage. "Should have been more quiet."
Chris shrugged with a smile. "No worries. I wasn't quite asleep yet."
"Not tired?" Max glanced at the glass of wine in his hand. "Or just not enough alcohol on-board?"
Chris grinned. "Bit of both, I reckon. You?"
"Likewise. `Meh, fuck it -- get some wine,' I thought to myself. Can I pour you a glass? The semi-sweet stuff works best to knock me out, I find," Max said.
"Yeah, if you don't mind. Thanks." Max bent to his task, silhouetted in the half-light.
"This is not quite as good as what you're used to, is it?" Max asked. "I mean, this is sheer plonk anyway, let alone what you might have access to on your neck of the woods." He handed Chris his glass.
"Yeah, it is a bit budget. But it tastes fine, if not refined, and hey, it hits the spot," Chris said, sipping from the glass. "Hey... you can pull up a chair if you like."
Max grinned and parked himself opposite Chris on the single seater chair, part of the set with the sleeper and the other three-seater the lounge was furnished with. "Good night, I thought," he said.
Chris nodded. "Indeed it was. Good company, and Matt's cooking is coming along." They regarded each other. "Well, sort-of."
Max chuckled. "Yeah, it's getting there. Still a ways to go, though. But not horrific, I suppose. You weren't here the first time he cooked for us -- steak as tough as sheet metal. We put it down to the quality of the meat, but it wasn't, you know." He looked downwards, suddenly serious. "But it's important to keep the lad's self-esteem up."
Chris nodded again and took another sip of his wine.
"The problem with this sort of wine," Max continued, "is that you can drink it like cooldrink. Therein lies the difficulty -- once you start, its game over."
"A bit like Southern Comfort and lemonade," Chris replied, "or a good tequila sunrise."
"Very true," Max replied, draining his glass. "Another for you? I'm having one." Chris drained his glass and handed it over to Max, watching keenly as Max's lithe figure moved through the gloom clad in pair of cargo shorts with his baggy t-shirt.
They sat up chatting and drinking a little more. Max may have been a little odd-looking at first glance, but every subsequent one was more and more intriguing. By the end of the night the first time you met him, you'd be completely fascinated by him. His thin, wiry body, those soft, inquisitive brown eyes, his sparkling sense of humour and genuine intrigue with the way of the world around him all added to his delicate features and his beautiful, clear voice made up an unbelievably impressive complete product. While Chris had met him several times before that night, dozens of times, it was there that they sat alone for the first time and got to enjoy one another's company.
Max was so comfortable and confident in his skin, anywhere you put him. He looked at home, felt at home, within minutes anywhere he went, and could put everyone around him at ease with absolutely no effort. And he bubbled with a genuine interest, a curiosity insatiable in its intensity to figure out how everything, and everyone, worked. It hadn't taken long before Chris was completely enchanted.
The morning had worn on; by three o'clock, Chris was babbling away, flirting like crazy, long through the turbid waters of tipsiness and well into the muzzy warmth and glow of alcohol-induced contentment. The comments had grown racier, the general tone of the conversation much more overtly sexual, and then Max leaned back into the couch and spread his legs. The bulge was obvious. Chris had needed no further invitation; if Max was even hinting at anything, Chris took the bait and in seconds he had Max flat on his back on the couch, shirt off, shorts and underwear round his ankles while he worked on Max's pulsating erection with his tongue. Max had lain there, a bemused grin on his face faltering every now and then into a moan of pleasure as Chris expertly ravaged his shaft and the head of his cock with his lips and gently massaged Max's large balls through his scrotum, weaving his fingers through the sparse hair on his sack and upper thighs. It was not long before Max's balls pulled up tight and his torso bucked and Chris watched as he fired a large gout of semen into the air to splash back onto his chest, followed by several further squirts from the tip of his seven-odd inches of cock.
Max gripped the length of his shaft and shook the last droplet off as Chris watched the thick white fluid pool around his navel before some of it slipped inside. Max scooped up his t-shirt and wiped himself clean, before regarding Chris thoughtfully.
"That was fantastic," he breathed. "Would you mind if I...?" He moved for Chris, standing just in his underwear, and without too much fanfare had Chris naked in front of him. It was true what Alec said -- that was about nine inches long, right there, with dark blonde, slightly trimmed pubic hair dusted around his scrotum, and thicker above his cock.
Chris was fully hard by this time; looking down at a very naked Max, cock swinging between his legs against a background of dark brown hair, was an immense turn-on, and he was bulging with pent up stress and impending orgasm.
Max did not have to work too hard before Chris grunted a warning. A second later his huge cock twitched once, twice, and then began to leak a large amount of semen, spilling down the length of the shaft. One last glance at Max's own cock, still glistening in the half-light, built Chris's pulsing orgasm and it broke, firing all the remnants into the air to land with a series of dull splats on his upper leg.
In the half-lit silence they regarded one another. Max looked a little... stunned, maybe; maybe even freaked out a bit, Chris thought. Immediately, instinctively, he thought about taking an offensive defensive.
Max reached out a tentative hand, index finger extended, and very gently touched the tip of Chris's slackening erection. In the aftermath of orgasm Chris winced at the unexpected sensation. A second finger and thumb followed the first one and Max stared in wonder at the sheer enormity of Chris, his fingers and thumb looped in a circle around his girth, third and fourth fingers resting gently on his taut nutsack.
It had been much the same ever since. Any time Chris ended up at Alec's place and Max was around, they entertained one another. Sometimes it was just a quick tug in a small window of opportunity; other times it went much further and lasted quite some time. Last night, like several preceding it, it had gone all the way.
More importantly, neither of them was forming an emotional attachment. That was of course where things had gone pear-shaped with Alec; fortunately, Max seemed entirely indifferent to it which certainly helped a lot. The only hassle was keeping it secret, but it was a hassle worth the effort. Damien's arrival, however welcome, would certainly make things a little trickier this weekend.
Alec glanced at them in the rear-view mirror. "It's unnaturally quiet back there," he said. "You okes sleeping, or what?"
"I'm just chilling," Damien replied, "and Chris is lost in thought. Unfamiliar territory, you see." He winked at Alec with an impish grin. "Isn't that right, Christopher?"
"Something like that, no doubt," Chris replied. Damien was right on the mark -- he was keeping company within his own brain. Minor thoughts, some major ones, as always a barrage of fears and hopes, dreams and nightmares and, above all, the wondering. Wondering how he would turn out in the end. Would he get where he was going? And where exactly was that, anyway? Would there be a success at the end of the day, however he might choose to define it? Would he find someone to be with long-term, someone who could replace Alec without being Alec, who could bring out the best in him and let him bring out the best in both of them? When you got right down to it, was there a point in trying to find the non-Alec Alec, the Alec who was everything which Alec was and more, but wasn't Alec? Or did he have it all right there, once, and blow it, a chronic fuck-up like one never before seen? Difficult questions.
More importantly, difficult questions with no answers.
He'd never lose Alec -- Damien, brilliant and beautiful Damien, had seen to that in the end, one way or another -- and perhaps it was a good thing that they'd had what they'd had. He'd had plenty of sex before Alec and enough since, but Alec was the first guy he'd let fuck him; he was also the first guy to fuck Alec. Yes, that was a good thing. Had to be a good thing. What could possibly be wrong with it?
What was probably a bad thing was that in the interim period since then he'd only seen Alec, only been with Alec. Regardless of who was physically in his bed, whose cock was in his mouth, whose backside he was up to his balls in, it was always Alec in his head, even when it was Max squirming beneath him, belching come into his own sheets and then teasing the last few drops from the head of his massive dick. Alec pervaded him; everything was a reminder. The nice kid, a fellow student, who worked weekends for one of the wineries and who had procured the fantastic Merlot of last night for him, sounded just like Alec and wore his hair the same way; he shaved his pubes, though, which Alec never did, and wasn't as good at oral sex as Alec was. One of his lab mates had two t-shirts identical to ones in Alec's cupboard and Chris would grimace each time either was worn. His own housemate, James, had picked up several of Alec's mannerisms over the years. Alec was everywhere.
Briefly, he wondered if Damien's features would intrude now, following this morning's events in the bathroom. Christ, he was gorgeous, still a work of art, sculpted flawlessness with the personality to match. Was Damien right -- had it really been more than fifteen years ago since they last stood naked in front of each other? He'd made it closer to ten, stupidly long already; fifteen just seemed ridiculous. It was more than half a lifetime ago. They would all have been only eleven or twelve back then, not even out of grade school yet. Surely it could not be that long ago!
Chris would never admit to it, not even with a lot of alcohol on board, but he had dreamed of this day since puberty. He'd seen Alec many times before they'd become an item and many times during; he'd seen Nick before a few times as well, thanks to the ritual early-morning performances which had horrified their other housemate and stuck after his departure, and he'd seen as much of Max as anyone but a surgeon had. Damien and Matt, of course, had eluded him up till now.
The thought of Damien and how he'd turned out had fueled hundreds of solo sessions before Alec had come along and taken over; the reality was even better than the pictures Chris had formulated in his head. In fact, the only way this trip could get any better would involve him and Damien laying some serious pipe on one another. Chances? Slim to none, and even that was being astronomically optimistic. Still, can you imagine? Damien bent over, Chris embedded up his arse, thrusting hard, fucking that stupid woman who'd fucked him up last week right out of his head, all the memory of her seared away, anything remaining drowned in semen. The thought gave him the beginnings of an erection, and there was no way he could hide it in his boardies, not in this skinny t-shirt which would provide no cover whatsoever, and not with nine inches and change of it. It was there for anyone to see unless he moved in a big way, and any movement would merely draw attention to him.
Oh, well -- fuck it. Damien would have to live with it if he saw it. Briefly he glanced sideways to see if it had gone unnoticed. Damien was engrossed in the landscape, the rolling layers of wheat and grapes which were the region's farming staples, as well as the preserved areas of fynbos, natural foliage unique to this particular part of the world. They had lived in the area for years; now with Damien based so far from home, the little things had become so much more important to him. While they grew up, seeing the same surroundings every day was just taken for granted; these days, Damien stopped just short of kissing the ground every time he flew home. Nevertheless, his captivation with being out and about meant Chris's discomfort escaped unnoticed and to a point, Chris wasn't sure whether or not he was grateful that it had.
Damien had definitely had a squizz at him that morning -- he'd invited it, really, by standing around naked for as long as he had; not that he was shy, either, but he suspected the tease factor could provoke some kind of response in Damien anyway. Thus -- in theory -- Damien noticing now would have been a turn up for the books. He'd got a look at Damien this morning, but it was brief, too brief, and not as clear as he would have liked. He wondered briefly if he could somehow in the next week or so rig a camera to take a picture or two of an unsuspecting Damien with less cover than he anticipated.
Of course that would be a breach of the friendship, a gross violation of trust, but... no. Bad idea all around. A nice idea, and no mistake, but not a good idea. A pity, really -- the half-glimpse he'd got of Damien's bits and pieces -- and fucking hell, that particularly tight bum -- would live in his memory for ages, but a hard copy would be even better. He pondered what Damien might say if he were to just take a picture outright, blatantly. He imagined the response would be puzzled, but probably amused. Given Damien's propensity for shedding clothes, though -- several late-night skinnydips in various places during school could attest to that -- there would undoubtedly be ample opportunity to take a look at him this weekend.
But this Nicoletta thing... what the fuck had happened? Chris was fairly sure he wasn't getting the full story. Something about the way Damien had referred to the French guy -- Lawrence? -- didn't quite add up. Maybe because he was so open about what had happened with the girl, and his comments about the guy just seemed sort-of off-hand, disposable.
This whole sex talk thing was really out of character, too. Chris and Alec could do that now -- they'd done it enough times with each other for it not to be embarrassing -- although they usually didn't. Damien had always kept himself to himself -- casual mentions, if anything, and never any detail. Up till now, Chris wasn't even sure how far he'd been with a guy, if at all. Perhaps he'd never acted on his bisexuality, although this weirdness around his mention of the guy certainly hinted at something. Chris wondered what Alec would think of all this, and then realised he'd found himself again thinking about Alec.
The kilometers flew beneath them, around two per minute at that speed, and true to Nick's prediction, a sign advising the turnoff to the small town for people with big money appeared just short of ninety minutes after Alec had pulled out of their driveway. The road was fairly well maintained, although clearly this was only true for the main strip through the central part of town which ran down to Multimillionaires' Row down on the beachfront. The side streets were tarred, but in need of a touch-up; some of the cross streets looked like they were merely strips of gravel. There was a small hotel, just a few rooms and a bar, really, pretty much the local watering hole just at the edge of the town, on the top of the rise leading to an open area on the cliffs; the expensive plots all dipped away beneath that. Nick pulled into the hotel's parking lot.
"Well, here we are," he announced as everyone exited, and stretched in the warm sun. "Beautiful, no?"
The view was incredible. The road dipped below them, snaking its way downward before hitting a t-junction right at the spot where the two small bays came together. The sea directly below them on the right hand side was pale, that Mediterranean island brochure blue where you can see to the bottom of the shallow water. You could see where the shelf ended as the colour rapidly darkened to a deep blue about forty metres offshore. In contrast, the smaller bay on the left side was quite dark throughout. Just beyond the road junction, a strip of sand lead to a large rock formation.
"It's low tide," Nick said, "so you can walk to the rocks. There's some good fishing from there, if anyone is keen. The good surf is on the left; the warm tropical stuff is obviously the light blue on the right."
"Beautiful!" Max exclaimed. "Where are we headed?" Nick pointed below them.
"Down there, in the corner." Their destination was at the end of the road, literally. You couldn't see too much of it, though, because of the huge canopy of trees blanketing the property. Damien reached into the car and fumbled in his bag for a camera.
"That view is incredible," he remarked, snapping a few pictures. "Although, I'm not entirely sure this is the best vantage point to get it."
"It's not," Nick replied. "You get a better sense of the place from some of the side streets further down the hill. If you're keen, I know a fantastic spot for a clear winner of sunset."
"Definitely. If not today, then... well, we've got enough time, I suppose."
"Plenty. Look, we need to grab some electricity for the pre-paid meter thing before we get down there, and we might as well do firewood, milk and some ice while we're here to save us a return trip."
"I'll get firewood," Chris volunteered.
"Cool -- you and me. There's a general store just that side of the hotel for that and the power. Can someone head into the hotel off-sales for ice?"
Simon and Max went to the hotel as Nick and Chris went to the small general store. As soon as they were out of earshot, Damien turned to Alec and Matt. "Everything okay? With the other one, I mean." He nodded his head after Chris. "I meant to ask as soon as I arrived, but it slipped my mind."
Alec pursed his lips, then nodded. "I think so. I know he's struggled a little at work of late, but I think he's coming right, hey?" He looked enquiringly at Matt.
Matt swallowed. "Look, I don't want to talk out of school." Damien looked bemused.
"Dude, come now. You see more of him than I do at the moment, and I'm sure this one" -- a nod at Alec -- "has kept you in the loop, which is great. Whatever you know, I really want to know too. Like it or not, you're one of us now."
Matt looked first at Alec, then back at Damien, who smiled at him encouragingly. "Well... I'm not so sure he's coming right; not yet," Matt said. "Alec disagrees; he's said as much, but I think Chris' work is still getting him down. I mean, we all know research is shit, and we all hit slumps now and then, but I'm not convinced things are getting better yet."
Alec looked at him, surprised. "You didn't tell me any of that this morning."
"I had a bit more of a think about it during breakfast. And during the ride up here. He just seems... I dunno, withdrawn compared to the last couple of times I've seen him."
"Look, that's possibly because things aren't a hundred percent between him and me yet. And maybe he's just hung over from last night, or tired-" Alec began.
"Yeah, maybe, but I don't think so." Matt paused briefly. "I realise this sounds People Magazine OTT here, but perhaps one of you should see if you can't get him to talk to someone. I know you don't like pills, Damien, and I know you think psychologists are for wankers, Alec, but I don't think a course of something which might help him out would be a bad idea." He looked down at his feet, knowing that even mentioning this would open a big can of worms and need a lot of explaining, perhaps earlier than he was ready to do so. "Speaking as someone who once was on a course of something which helped him out." The ghost of Before haunted him again.
Damien and Alec looked at one another, then back at Matt. "Revised opinion?" Damien asked.
"I'm not sold," said Alec, "but I suppose it can't hurt."
"Agreed. He's not necessarily worse than last time I saw him -- probably too early to say for sure, though, since we haven't chatted serious stuff much today -- but I'm with Matt, I think. He seems a little bummed out to me, and our emails and all that since Christmas haven't been right... they've been a bit stale, and sort-of dead. Like he doesn't really care anymore. Having said that, an expert could diagnose better than we could."
Alec scowled. "Expert? Pah!" Damien grinned at him. "What?"
"You haven't changed one little bit!" he replied. "Our little Alec, scared of letting anywhere near the insides of his head. Worried about what they might find, eh? All those deep dark secrets, stuffed away in there, like your boyhood porn stash in that box of so-called physics notes under your bed."
"Piss off," Alec retorted. "Psychologists and psychiatrists are the biggest nonsense ever invented. How the flying fuck can anyone tell you anything about yourself which you don't already know? Honestly."
"That's as maybe," Damien said. "However, as Captain Sexy here points out, they can write out scripts for pills, the sort of pills our lad might benefit from. Not that I like the idea of medicating unnecessarily, of course, but... well, it's certainly not the worst idea in the world."
"Look, it doesn't have to be an `tween tv drama intervention or any of that soap opera rubbish," Matt said. "I just think someone he might listen to" -- there was a meaningful pause as he looked pointedly at each of the other two -- "might get some mileage by suggesting he consider seeing someone. I doubt he'd appreciate the sentiment coming from me, but one of you two could pull it off without too much lament, surely?"
"Hmmm. Not so sure about that," Alec said.
"No," Damien agreed, "he'll get even more pissy with us if he doesn't like it because he knows he can make a scene at us without losing as much face as he might with you or one of the others. Stubborn, that's what he is. Still... worth a shot."
Alec shrugged. "No, it can't hurt." He shot a look at Matt, a look Damien thought a little combative. "I wish you'd said this this morning."
Matt looked briefly annoyed, it seemed to Damien, but far from apologetic. "Look, Alec, I meant what I said this morning -- the weekend out will do him a world of good. But I'm thinking it might not be enough just yet. Besides, you brought up use of chemicals."
"Yes, him not needing chemicals," Alec retorted.
"Guys." Damien cut through the skirmish, the tone of his voice disarming both sides. "Does it matter? As long as we've reached the correct decision one way or another, it's no fucking biggie who said what." Alec looked away, still pissed, but aware that Damien was right. "Now smile -- here they come." He frowned. "Fucking hell!"
Chris and Nick strode towards the car, each carrying two enormous bags of wood. "Jesus! Did you manage to find some wood?" Alec said, sarcasm coating his words.
"Just a small rainforest, squire," Nick replied with a wink. "If you've seen the amount of grilling Simon intends to use as a menu for this weekend, it might even be sufficient! Besides, the nights can get a little chilly up here, so unless the pair of you want to freeze your `nads off fucking in front of the cold, dark fireplace..." He winked at Alec.
"Piss off!" Matt replied indignantly, a red flush grabbing hold of his face. "Is nothing sacred anymore? We don't talk about you and Simon and... that stuff."
Nick shrugged. "You should. The only thing worse than being gossiped about is not being gossiped about, my mother says. And she's a professional socialite, don't you know." He put his bags of wood on the pavement.
"Even so," Matt retorted, "it's just not polite!"
"Guess Alec never told him about the pictures he sent us," Chris muttered under his breath to Nick, just loud enough so Matt could hear. Nick shrugged again.
"Guess not."
"Pictures?" There was no mistaking the horror in Matt's voice. "What pict-" He broke off sheepishly as Damien guffawed alongside him. "For fuck's sake!"
"Dude, you are way too highly strung!"
"Bastards." There was more than a hint of venom in the word, even though the relief on Matt's face was obvious.
"We're going to have you a nervous breakdown before Monday, you know."
"Your friends are real dicks, you know that?" Matt said to Alec. "I can't believe you've stuck around with them for so long!"
Alec shook his head. "Me neither. Perhaps we should make them walk down to the house from here, let them think about what they've done."
"Make them walk home, that's what I think," Matt replied. He pointed at Damien. "No soup for you!" The Seinfeld imitation was flawless.
"Are you sure that's enough wood?" Max called as he and Simon came into earshot. "I didn't realise we were making paper this weekend."
"What is with you people?" Nick asked. "We're going to grill, a lot, and it's cold at night so... in fact, fuck it. No it's not too much wood."
"Now now, no need to get pissy about it," Simon said, approaching Alec. "If you're going to get annoyed, at least do it for something worthwhile... like this." Deftly he slipped a hand around Nick's waist.
With a yelp, Nick leaped about a foot into the air, much to everyone's surprise. Immediately he put his hands into the back of his pants and fumbled around.
"You fucker!" He was still hopping on one foot. "Jesus!" Finally, he pulled his hand out and opened it to reveal a large ice cube.
"Nicely done!" Matt was pleased. "Oh, that was superb. Nailed him!"
"Indeed. He didn't have a hope in hell," Simon said. "My hand has taken a beating from the ice, though -- it's gone numb!"
"Perfect for a stealth wank, then," Alec replied. He glanced at his watch. "So... are we intending to loiter up here all day, or are we heading down the hill?"
Nick threw the ice cube across the parking lot. It shattered as it bounced off the surface and began to melt rapidly in the warmth. "How much space do you have in the car? The amount of wood we have is... you know... sort-of big."
"Should be enough space for three of the bags, easily," Damien replied after a quick look through the rear window. "Maybe all four, even." Alec unlocked the boot and began to fiddle around.
"We can get all four in the back here," he pronounced eventually. Chris hefted his two up and gave one to Damien while he put the other into the boot. Damien slotted the second one in alongside it. Nick dropped his two in one by one and Alec closed the boot behind them.
"I think let's get unloaded first otherwise we'll have water instead of ice," Nick said. "After that... I dunno. Is it too early for cocktails?"
"Hmmm. Not too early on paper, but my head says `oh, fuck, no!' unfortunately," Max said.
"I'm with you," Chris replied. "However, mine rather likes the idea of heading down to the beach and kicking a football around." There was a murmur of assent from Matt and Max, and Damien nodded rather enthusiastically.
"Wait -- what is this, Phys Ed?" Simon demanded. "We're supposed to be on holiday! I left all that gym and fitness and health and well-being nonsense at home."
"You and I could always just catch some sun while these cretins run around like sugared-up kids," Alec offered. "I have a tan which needs some work, unlike Admiral Melanin and Corporal Sunbed over there." He indicated Matt first, as Damien balked.
"Corporal Sunbed says screw you," Damien growled. "Me, on a sunbed? As if!" Chris grinned and looked away.
"Looks more like tan-in-a-can to me," he said, a disposable, off-hand comment.
"That's quite enough from you, young man." Damien replied to Chris's plaintive, classic "who, me?" pose straight out of a pantomime. "No, you fuck off," Damien retorted before Chris could say anything else. He opened the car door and climbed into the back seat.
"Oh my. This is interesting," Matt said to Alec as the rest of them got back into the two cars.
"I suspect we don't know the half of it," Alec replied. He glanced at Damien in the rear-view mirror. "You blushing there, Tiger?" Damien swallowed, embarrassed, as Matt turned to look at him.
"No, no," Damien managed, a sickly grin on his face. "Not at all."
Matt grunted. "Must be sunburn, then." He winked at Damien, who grinned widely at him before punching a very smug Chris on the shoulder.
"Stupid shitty northern weather," Damien muttered, as Alec put the car into gear and set off behind Nick, down the winding road to the beachfront.