by Jennie
umming and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Vic drove along deserted streets on his way to Mac's apartment. He'd always found a measure of peace in the quiet of pre-dawn Toronto. Anticipation fluttered through his gut as he pictured the newly-awakened Mac he'd find that morning.
Thoughts of the protests, snarky comments, and whining Mac would voice at his early arrival only made Vic's smile widen.
Because, at long last, his wait was nearly at an end. After plotting and planning, wishing and dreaming, for what seemed an eon, Mac was finally showing signs of returning his interest.
Gradually, over the past few years, Mac's obsession with LiAnn had faded. As had his hopes that LiAnn would see the light and resume their romantic relationship.
Vic had made point of not teasing Mac on the subject. He had, however, made it clear that he was available to drink, talk, and commiserate.
Mac—being Mac—had spent the first three months after the loss of his dreams, hitting various clubs in town. Vic had come damned close to giving up as the constant parade of one-night stands passed through Mac's bedroom.
Attempts at numbing his frustrated disappointment had been scant consolation. As were the fantasies he enjoyed while jerking off to of Mac and himself fucking their brains out. Which would never happen if the idiot didn't capitulate, seeing him as something more than a rival for LiAnn's attention.
Granted, the occasional flash of sexual awareness in Mac's eyes was encouraging. As was the way his partner stood just a little too close. And the casual brushes of Mac's fingers across Vic's shoulders, his waist, his back...
And now, after all this time, Mac was finally ready—Vic hoped—to move on. Take their relationship to the next level.
Last night's call had been... thrilling, to say the least. Well versed in Mac-speak, Vic had had little trouble seeing past Mac's hemming and hawing and dithering. The kid was interested! He actually wanted to spend part of his vacation with Vic.
A better chance would never come Vic's way again, and he fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity.
And, if he was wrong... Well, at least the humor to be found in Mac's inevitable reaction to camping—and fishing—would provide him with months, if not years, of hilarity.
"Okay, okay. I hear you, dammit."
Vic grinned and continued to pound on Mac's door.
"*Tieu*! Keep your damned pants on, man. I'm coming, I'm coming."
Oh boy. What a thought that was... With a deep breath, Vic determinedly erased the picture of Mac saying those words under different circumstances.
Running a shaky hand over his face, Vic told his cock, "Down, boy. Let me down now and we'll never get him. We'll be stuck with my right hand until the end of time."
The threat worked to some extent. Still, Vic wished that he'd worn roomier jeans.
The door opened a crack, and one brown eye glared at him balefully. "Do you know what time it is, Victor?"
After making a show of checking his watch, Vic nodded. "4:00."
"You said 5, Vic. Don't deny it; I was there. 5 AM, you said. Clear as day, 5. Speaking of day, it's... unnatural to be awake at this hour—unless you're just headed to bed after a night of partying."
"Mac. Stop whining."
The younger man snorted. "I'm not whining, asshole. I'm complaining. There is a difference, you know. I'm just expressing perfectly legitimate complaints about being hauled out of bed at this ungodly hour."
Even as he said this, Mac stepped back, gesturing for Vic to enter with an exaggerated sweep of one arm. "Please, do come in, Victor. And tell me why the hell you're here before the crack of dawn."
Vic offered Mac a cup of coffee he'd brought from home in an insulated mug. "If I hadn't gotten here early, you'd have slept until 4:50, leapt out of bed and dressed at the very last minute."
"So?" Mac grouched, running the fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.
"So..." Vic licked his lips, wishing that his were the fingers running through Mac's hair.
"Earth to Victor." Mac snapped his fingers under Vic's nose. "Anyone home in there?"
Blinking, Vic brought his unruly imagination under control. "So, this way you're up in plenty of time to shower, eat breakfast, and drink a couple of cups of coffee."
"Which will only wake me up. Which means I won't be able to sleep while you drive to wherever the hell you're dragging me," Mac bitched. Then, hearing his own words, he hastily added, "Not that I actually intend to go along with this insane idea of yours."
Crossing to the couch, Vic sat down and propped his feet up on the coffee table. He opened the early edition of the newspaper he'd purchased on the way over, took a sip of coffee, and proceeded to read the front page.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm reading the paper, Mac."
"Dammit, Vic! Have you lost your mind?"
"Go take a shower," Vic instructed. "And don't forget to dress for camping."
"You're nuts," Mac growled, but he did turn and walk back towards the bedroom. Bitching the entire way...
"Camping!
"Man's gone around the bend.
"Nutty as a fruitcake.
"Never thought he had a sadistic streak, though."
Vic was quietly losing it, giggling madly, as Mac's complaints continued to be clearly audible even after he'd slammed his way into the bathroom: "Camping! Dress for camping, Mac. Wear your boots, Mac. I have an extra fishing pole for you, Mac."
When the shower finally drowned out Mac's voice, Vic just howled. He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks.
Despite his dire predictions to the contrary, Mac slept through the entire drive. Not that Vic minded... well, the snoring was a little irritating. But opportunities such as this seldom, if ever, came his way. So he took full advantage of the situation, feasting his eyes on Mac, face curiously peaceful in repose, not showing even a hint of the smart-assed, clownish mask that Mac wore in public. And the younger man's body... completely relaxed, yet ready to spring into action at the first hint of danger.
Although he was, in fact, bisexual, Vic hadn't considered Mac as a possible lover—at first. His own determination to make a go of it with LiAnn aside, Mac's sarcastic, careless approach to life had quashed any interest in this 'brother' of LiAnn's right from the get-go.
Sure, he'd noticed Mac's physical beauty. Who wouldn't? But, Vic's days of casual one night stands were in the past, and that, he felt sure, was all Mac had to offer.
The change in his attitude towards Mac had been gradual. As time passed, and Mac showed more and more of his inner self, Vic came to realize that the face Mac presented to the world was a mask to hide the sensitive, easily hurt man that he truly was. Much to his amazement, Vic grew to like the man behind the mask. Like grew into admiration, then lust, and then love.
Knowing Mac as he did, Vic had taken things slowly. He'd waited patiently, hoping that LiAnn's assurances of Mac's returned interest weren't just wishful thinking on Vic's part.
And, damned if she hadn't been right. After so very long, Mac was finally showing signs of being ready to admit that he was interested. This trip offered the perfect opportunity to test the waters—see if Mac and he could maybe try to have a relationship. Alone for three days, sharing a tent, a chance to let Mac see Vic away from the pressures of their lives...
//Please, let this work,// Vic silently begged any gods that might be listening.
Ninety minutes later, Vic exited the highway. He followed a route through small towns, down narrow country roads, until he turned onto a dirt access road which led him past a large farm that belonged to an old friend. When he reached his destination, a grassy site near the river, surrounded by huge and ancient trees, he parked and reached over to give Mac a gentle nudge.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he almost whispered. "Rise and shine."
"Mmbplf," was the mumbled response.
"Mac," he said, a bit louder. "We're here, Mac. Time to wake up."
"Don' wanna," Mac grumbled, still more than half asleep. "Lemme 'lone."
Vic shook Mac's shoulder. "Wake up, Ramsey."
"F'ck you."
"Not right now," Vic said with amusement. "We have to set up camp. Then you can fuck me."
Mac blinked, scrubbed his face with both hands, and then took a good look at the area. "Have I mentioned lately that you're a sadistic SOB and I hate you?"
After giving the question careful consideration, Vic shook his head. "No, you haven't."
"Well, you are. And I do."
"I hate you too, partner," Vic said with gentle amusement. "Now," he released his seatbelt and opened the driver's side door, "let's get to work. If we want to spend some time fishing and get in some hiking later, we need to get the campsite set up."
"I really hate you," Mac reiterated.
Tent erected, fire pit constructed, and food safely stowed in the truck's cab, Vic pulled the fishing gear out and announced that it was time for Mac's first lesson.
"I told you, asshole—I. Do. Not. Fish."
"High time you learned," Vic answered patiently.
As they walked to the water's edge, Mac's complaints were loud and long. Vic just smiled and ignored him.
About 6pm, after Mac had meticulously scrubbed the smell of fish from his body and changed into fresh clothing, Vic decided that a hike was in order.
"But, Vic," Mac protested, "it's getting dark."
"Best time. The animals are just waking up. We stand a good chance of seeing all kinds of wildlife."
"Wildlife?" Mac was clearly suspicious. "What kind of wildlife?"
"Oh... deer, raccoons, owls, bears, wolves. You know, wildlife."
"Victor..." The whites of Mac's eyes shone in the late afternoon light. "Not that I'm scared or anything, but, bears? And wolves? Aren't they a little dangerous?"
Although he tried, Vic couldn't help laughing. "Relax, partner. No bears have been sighted around here for years, and the wolves are fat and happy now on a steady diet of the weak and the young of deer and small mammals."
Mac crinkled his nose. "That's disgusting, Vic."
"It's just the rhythm of life."
"It's still disgusting. Wolves eating Bambi."
"'Bambi'? You've seen 'Bambi'?" Vic asked, confused. "How does a Hong Kong street urchin see 'Bambi'?"
Eyes averted, Mac shrugged. "Jackie made me watch it."
"Oh?"
"Well, we were on a surveillance job—you remember, three fucking days watching that Alder guy—and we got pretty bored. So... she played that movie." He sighed. "*Three times*!"
Vic's eyebrows rose. "And you liked it?"
At this point, Mac was actually shuffling his feet. "I never saw any Disney movies when I was a kid, Vic. And, c'mon, you have to admit that it's a good movie." He cleared his throat. "I just... kinda got caught up in it."
Vic snorted. "Come on, Mr.-Bleeding-Heart. I promise that no wolves will kill Bambi in your presence."
Eventually, Mac's sotto-voice complaints died away as even he fell under the spell of the peace and quiet surrounding them as dusk fell.
Two hours later, they returned to the campsite in companionable silence. Together, they prepared an evening meal of freshly-caught trout and baked potatoes. Lounging comfortably at the fireside, they sipped the coffee Vic had brewed and talked quietly, sharing stories of their respective youths.
"What do you mean there's only one air mattress?" Mac asked loudly.
Vic shrugged. "It's plenty big enough for two, Mac. Don't tell me you're such a prude that sharing a bed with me disgusts you."
"That is not the problem, Victor."
"Hmm. So, you're what? Afraid I'll molest you in your sleep?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Afraid you'll molest me?"
"*NO*!"
"Well then, there's no problem. Right?"
"You... I... " Mac sputtered.
Vic raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You, I, what?"
"Oh hell, never mind," Mac said, finally capitulating. "Let's just... go to bed, dammit."
"Okay," Vic agreed mildly.
"What are you doing, Vic?"
"Snuggling."
"Oh. Why?"
"Because I'm cold and you're like a blast furnace."
Vic shifted even closer, plastering himself to Mac's side and burying his face into Mac's neck. He threw one leg across Mac's thighs and worked one hand under his long-sleeved t-shirt to rest on his chest—right over the stunned young man's thudding heart.
"Much better," Vic murmured with a contented sigh.
"Um... Vic, I don't think-"
"Relax, Mac," Vic soothed. "I promise not to molest you. Your virtue is safe tonight."
"That hard-on pressed against my hip doesn't exactly inspire trust, Vic."
Vic hmm'd. "Stop worrying. I can control myself. 'Sides, rape isn't my style. I prefer a willing partner."
"Victor..."
"Mac. Go. To. Sleep."
"I... don't think I can."
"Ma-aac."
"Sorry, Vic."
With a heavy sigh, Vic moved back, putting a (somewhat) respectable distance between them. "There. Feel better now?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
About ten minutes later, Mac cleared his throat.
"What now?"
"I lied."
"Huh?"
"I lied, Vic," Mac said, quite clearly irritated. "I don't feel better."
Manfully restraining his impulse to shout YES and do a victory dance, Vic just moved closer. Back in his original position—draped over Mac—he sighed happily and smiled. "Okay?"
Mac grunted. Which, Vic decided, was far better than his first reaction to being this close.
"G'night," he said softly.
"Yeah. 'Night." Mac offered in turn. "Sleep well."
And Vic did.
Next up: "Intrigued"
