Travis cracked open his eyes. He was really starting to worry about Aaron. He usually made fun of Taylor for suggesting that everyone needed therapy, but Travis couldn’t help feeling in this particular case the sentiment would be right on the money. He squeezed his eyes shut. God, what had happened to make Aaron so sure he was at fault for Timothy’s death? He let out a shaky breath. He just needed to get home and get some decent rest. Then he’d be in some kind of shape to tackle this. Right now all he could think about was the soft press of Aaron’s lips against his face. He wanted to feel that again.
Watching the front door of the little pharmacy, Travis wondered how Aaron even knew this place was still open when he hadn’t lived around here for years. The Morris’s lived over Noe Valley. Aaron had lived here with his folks before they sold their little electronics company to a bigger company for a lot of money. After that they’d moved to a beautiful home up in Sea Cliff, and bragged a lot about how they lived right down the street from Robin Williams.
Timothy had once said to Travis that it was funny how that stupid symbol of their status was so much more important to them than the well being of their only child. Right afterward he’d shrugged, dismissing the matter and going on to ask if Travis wanted to come hang out with Aaron and him. Travis, of course, said yes. He hadn’t thought of that conversation in a long time.
The glint of sun against the front door caught his attention. Aaron strolled out of the pharmacy, the late morning sun gilding his face. Travis rolled his eyes. He really needed to stop thinking of Aaron in the angel costume Wasserstein had dressed him in. Sheesh. He was too broken to do anything about the images that quickly followed the first glorious one of Aaron in the damp, skimpy white outfit he’d worn for the shoot. Aaron glanced up. Their eyes caught, and then Aaron’s whole face lit up.
The smile that flashed across his face was incandescent. Travis hadn’t seen one like it on Aaron’s face for years. Oh, he smiled for the cameras, and often grinned for the fans, but nothing like this. This smile came straight from his heart, and seemed to lead straight to Travis’s. He gulped in a huge lungful of air as an answering smile stretched his mouth wide. Reaching up, Travis pushed the hair off his forehead. Aaron reached the truck, glancing away long enough to unlock the driver side door and pull it open. Then his eyes were back on Travis. “Hey.”
Travis grinned wearily, inexplicably pleased to see Aaron, the silver tongued rouge of the entire Bay Area music scene rendered speechless by his presence. “Hey, yourself, goofball. Did they say how long it’s gonna take. I really wanna get to bed.”
A second after the words left his mouth Travis realized they sounded like a teasing come-on. “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean—but only because I’m too sore—I. Shit.” As Travis watched, Aaron’s eyes crinkled up at the corners.
“I know, T. Mr. Winthrop said he can have everything ready in about twenty minutes. If you wanna catch a nap, you can use my—”
Travis slithered down into a prone position. “Your lap makes a nice pillow.” A jaw popping yawn ended anything else Travis intended to say. He hummed low in his throat as his head settled into Aaron’s lap.
This place right here, exactly here was where he was supposed to be. Travis rubbed his cheek along Aaron’s thigh, a mutter of contentment escaping him. Aaron’s hand settled in his hair, stoking slowly from his forehead toward the back of his head. Travis let go, drifting into the softly red and orange place behind his eyelids where sleep met him every night.