They might not have been PDA central, but it was always nice to sit in the bar with Zane and have a drink together. Their relationship had started off on a terrible note, but Roach no longer regretted that his coming out Band-aid had been torn off so unexpectedly. Having a boyfriend was worth it, even if said boyfriend was a leech.
It would have been useful if Zane did a bit of busking in town, or bothered to take a shift dishwashing every now and then, but Zane didn’t understand money well, so Roach didn’t want to embarrass him by suggesting he wasn’t pulling his weight.
Knowing he could provide for Zane, make him feel safe and taken care of was all the payoff he needed. Despite the daily promises of death, Zane was the sunshine of Roach’s life. A piece he’d always been missing but hadn’t realized.
The wind was bitterly cold, and when Roach looked up, the flurry of snow danced in the weak glow of the streetlight. He leaned back and took a swig from his flask. Coffee this time, because Zane’s presence made the numbing effects of alcohol redundant.
He ran his thumb over the leather the flask was wrapped in. The single memento he had left of his mother, since it was made from her vest. The same one that used to proclaim to the whole world that she was Property of Hulk. Too bad suicide had been her only way to escape that reality. Roach drank to her every time he took that initial sip from his flask. Even if it was filled with coffee.
“There you are!” Zane’s voice was far from cheerful, but Roach still smirked when he looked back to see his lover wearing Roach’s oversized hoodie and their warmest blanket wrapped around him like a cloak. With the hood on, he was a variation on a medieval minstrel.
“What’s up, Gandalf?” Roach asked with a straight face, pretending to tinker with something under the hood to look more professional, but he was done with the repairs. All the vehicle needed now was an oil change.
“Gandalf needs a new coat,” Zane hummed, stepping closer until his boots touched one of the puddles remaining after this morning’s snowfall.
Roach shut the hood and kneeled to adjust the lacing on his boots so he’d get more time to think. He was terrible at denying Zane anything, which caused a never-ending string of financial issues. Zane ate far more than his lean physique suggested, and had a taste for steak more than anything else. He also regularly needed new strings for his guitar, and liked to splurge on organic peanut butter, of all things, because he claimed it made his daily morning fare of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so much better. The jelly had to be organic too.
And in different circumstances, Roach would have taken him into town and bought him whatever coat he wanted, but he’d just paid rent, and only had a few bucks left after refueling his bike.
“Hm. Sure, we can go shopping on Saturday.” After payday.
Zane stepped closer, opened the folds of the blanket to reveal the large hoodie, and closed them around Roach, so they stood huddled together. That familiar scent, the warmth of sandalwood and tartness of citrus fruit overwhelmed Roach right away, and when Zane placed his chin on his shoulder, it was difficult to remember how the conversation started.
“But I’m cold now. I’ve never even seen snow in real life.”
Roach hugged him under the blanket and nuzzled his fragrant hair. There was nothing feminine about Zane, yet he wanted to treat him, pet him, and give him the world for just how happy he could make Roach. In moments like this, none of the arguments they regularly had mattered.
A part of Roach’s brain was saying he’s a leech, he’s a lazy bum, using you to get by, but Roach would’ve gladly attached a dozen Zane-leeches to himself and let them suck him dry.
“Why don’t you just stay indoors for a few days? What are you doing out here?”
“Easy for you to say! I have to go out to eat and for exercise. I can’t just sit on the bed all day on my own,” Zane complained, and his hands slid into the back pocket of Roach’s jeans as he pushed closer, as if he wanted to crawl under Roach’s skin and find shelter in its warmth.
It felt so good.
Roach melted into that strong body with a happy groan. “Culver was looking for an extra weekend waiter. That would get you moving. And I’m sure you’d get amazing tips.”
Zane snorted, leaning forward so more of his weight rested on Roach. In the small yard at the back of the motel, between the trash containers and the nearby warehouse, there was no one to see them hugging in public. “Are you sure he didn’t mean a waitress? There’s only women employed in that position, and they all wear the same yellow dress. Don’t think it comes in my size.”