Every two years, Black Mesa cycles all employees back through Hazardous Environment training. It's useful and important and all that, but no less boring to sit through as a guard, eyeing the HEV suits and not being allowed to use them. As usual, labcoats get all the fun, James thinks, as they're being dismissed for lunch.

Scientists, he corrects himself. They're not all bad. Just most of them.

If he could have pushed it back a few more months, he might have been able to go through training with Barney next spring--but their supervisor had insisted he get on with it, hurry up and get training out of the way so I can schedule vacations for the holiday season.

James is effectively friendless. He's got Barney, and Gordon by association, but he's definitely alone in HEV training. Just him, a handful of guards who don't like him, and three scientists. Those three all get to wear the HEV suits. The guards are not considered important enough to do so--as far as James understands, the suits cost hundreds of thousands of dollars apiece or something, maybe more, and it's not worth it to Black Mesa. As usual, guards come in last, like the unwanted stepchild of the facility.

He doesn't really care, wouldn't want to wear one anyway, he tells himself. It's just the principle of the thing.

They have half an hour for lunch before training starts back up. Two of the other guards shoulder him into the wall on his way out of the training center--which is also fine, he tells himself, because he doesn't care, and a bunch of other stupid guards hating him doesn't affect him. They're only doing what Eric's told them to do anyway. He just needs to keep his head down, avoid any unnecessary risks that might arise, and he'll be fine.

James heads for the cafeteria closest to the training center, gets pizza, and sits down at a table near the far side of the room. He doesn't want to be bothered, and he's guaranteed to get shoved around if he sits down near the other guards. He's a big guy--Barney calls him a brick shithouse, because he's tall and strong and chubby over the top of that. Barney's also told him flat out that he's too shy and quiet for his own good, that he needs to speak up, stick up for himself more--but that's hard, and he doesn't want to deal with that kind of stuff.

And what does Barney know about not being a doormat, anyway?

Besides, historically speaking, standing up for himself has not ended well. Eric's still got it out for him, ever since that day they fought in the guard dorms. James hasn't gotten in trouble for that yet. He's kind of banking on just keeping his head down for a bit longer so that Eric will get bored, forget, and drop the whole thing.

He's halfway through his first slice of pizza when his skin prickles, and he shoots a sideways glance over at the other guards to confirm it. They're unabashedly talking about him. They've also got one of the scientists from training sitting with them. Not either of the women--the blonde guy. He doesn't care, James tells himself firmly, even as the scientist looks over at him and they make brief, uncomfortable eye contact.

Sure he does.

James looks away first, drops his pizza slice onto his plate and takes a long drink of milk. He feels--warm. Embarrassed. He has an idea of what the guards are telling the labcoat as they nudge him and laugh and gesture, and he doesn't like it.

The table of guards bursts into laughter again, and he hears one of them say something about "Calhoun and Freeman" and bristles. He wants to walk over and start a fight, but that wouldn't be great for him. He doesn't want to get fired from Black Mesa. The scientist at the table just sits there, picking at his food, nodding. Listening. Not saying anything.

He decides he's not hungry, picks up his tray to throw the rest of his lunch away, and heads back towards training. They're supposed to be paired up after lunch as temporary dual control partners. Barney always calls it the buddy system, and James is his buddy. It would be no exaggeration to say that James has a soft spot for him.

It would be even less of an exaggeration to say that he's unhappy with his dual control partner assignment now. Not that he would have been happy teaming up with one of the other guards--but he's sitting next to the blonde scientist now, his dual control partner for the remainder of the week, and the guy hasn't said a word to him. He gets it, the other guards said some shit. Grow up.

He's handsome up close. That feels shitty to think, though, because James is still trying to figure out his attraction to men, and admitting that he might be attracted to some jerk who won't even make eye contact with him sucks.

The scientist shifts, and James gets a look at his ID badge. Doctor Maksim Ildarova, PhD. Black Mesa, Anomalous Materials, level 3 clearance. He lifts his head, catches James looking, and the guard quickly looks away.

He's got pretty eyes, James thinks. Green eyes. His hair is cut kind of shaggy, longer in the back, with bangs. He really is good looking.

They spend most of the rest of their shift in uncomfortable silence. James doesn't talk much anyway, so he has no problem with it, he tells himself. They're actually wrapping up, and the trainer has told James to go help Ildarova with the HEV suit, when the scientist actually speaks for the first time.

"Are the rumors true?" he begins, and he has a thick Russian accent. "Your guard friends... They told me you are a homosexual?"

James flushes, and fumbles with the latching mechanism he's trying to undo. "I'm not," he lies, somewhat aware that it is a big fat lie. It hurts to say, and it sucks.

Ildarova clicks his tongue, shimmying out of the armored suit. The undersuit is some kind of thin, breathable material that conforms to his body, which James is very pointedly not looking at. "That's too bad?"

"What?"

"See you tomorrow," Ildarova says, stepping into one of the changing rooms to put his clothes back on. James is left standing there for a minute before he gets his bearings and realizes he doesn't want to still be there with the scientist comes back out--so he hurries back out through the locker room, trying to figure out what the fuck that means.

He's almost late to training the next morning, having been up late playing Tomb Raider with Barney. It's how he relaxes. Barney doesn't judge him or make him talk, and neither does Lara Croft; the other guard just talks his ears off about Gordon while Lara does sick flips and shoots shit.

Day two goes by in a similar way; it's boring, Ildarova barely speaks to him, the guards snicker amongst themselves, he eats lunch alone... Rinse, repeat. By Thursday evening, he's pretty sick of HEV training, James decides, as he's helping Ildarova out of his suit again. At the very least, it's their last day.

He's kneeling in front of Ildarova, struggling with a clasp on the front of the suit. The groin armor looks pretty dumb, although he supposes it's better than getting hit in the dick with something. Point being, it won't unlatch now, and he's tired and frustrated and wants to go back to his dorm and shoot mummies with Miss Croft.

A hand lands on his head, strokes through his hair. He's been thinking of cutting it. It's getting a little longer than he likes, long enough to be annoying both in and out of the helmet, and--the point is, Ildarova is petting his head, and he's not sure what to do about that other than pretend not to notice. Ildarova tugs on his hair, forcing him to lift his chin, and says softly, "Ty uveren?"

James flushes, unsure where to look, what to say. He doesn't know what the scientist has even said to him. Ildarova cups his chin, strokes his thumb over James' cheek, back down across his lip, and James swallows hard.

"Ty gomoseksual?" Ildarova asks, and James, pretty sure of the second word, looks away nervously. His heart is pounding. If any of the other guards walk in right now and see them like this, James kneeling with his hands on Ildarova's waist, the scientist's hand in his hair--they'd be right to kick his ass, he's pretty sure.

"Are you?" Ildarova presses, and James licks his lips.

"I don't know."

"Wanna find out?"

James lifts his head, stares up at the Russian. Like a test or something? Is there a test to find out...?

Ildarova pops the clasp on the armor, the one he's let James struggle with, and steps back, letting James pry the piece off, leaving him just in the skintight undersuit. He's hard under the suit, James realizes with a jolt of excitement, and although he's still afraid that the other guards will step in, he's also so curious.

Ildarova steps back towards the changing stall, peeling the undersuit off as he goes, and James takes a breath, stands, and follows him. This is insane, he realizes, shutting the door behind himself. This isn't, uh, OSHA compliant.

He gets a good look at Ildarova's body as he pulls the undersuit off. He's slim, lightly muscled, a little bit sunburnt on his shoulders. His body is mostly hairless, up until he slides the suit down past his pubes--and at this point James is too busy looking at his erection to worry about anything else Ildarova might have going on, in terms of physical appearance. He's hard, and James has never done anything with a man--scratch that, with anyone, but he wants really badly to touch him.

"Have you ever sucked a guy off?" Ildarova asks, and James shakes his head, heart thudding in his chest. "You want to?"

He hesitates, then nods, dropping to his knees. Ildarova threads a hand into his hair again as James reaches a trepidatious hand out to grasp his cock and stroke it. He leans in, unsure. If he does this, for real, there's no going back.

"You know how to do it?" Ildarova asks, and James glances up at him, flushed. "Cover your teeth with your lips, okay? Put it in your mouth." A shiver runs down James' back as he licks the tip, tonguing it carefully. It tastes, remarkably, like not much of anything. Just a little sweat.

"Hm? Go ahead," the scientist prompts him, and James takes the tip into his mouth. "Move your tongue a little," Ildarova says, and James slides his tongue along the underside of his cock, hears him exhale hard through his nose.

He takes an inch into his mouth, panting through his nose. He's excited, he realizes, he's getting hard, doing this for another man. He reaches for himself, and Ildarova clicks his tongue at him, kicks his knee. "Not yet."

James glances up at him, pupils wide. "Focus on what you're doing?" the blonde says. "I'm going to start."

James doesn't really know what he means by that, until the scientist tugs on his hair and thrusts into his throat. O-oh. He chokes, throat constricting, and tries to pull back.

"Relax," Ildarova orders him. "Make a fist. Squeeze your thumb, okay?" James groans around him, shakily doing what he's told and fighting back the urge to throw up. "Relax," he repeats, stroking James' hair for just a moment before he begins thrusting again. He grips James' jaw, sliding in and out of his throat. Tears bead in the guard's eyes. His throat hurts, and his jaw is getting sore fast, and his lips are swollen by the time Ildarova pulls back to look him over, still hard.

"You think you can do it now? Yeah?" Ildarova taps his cheek, and James takes him back into his mouth, squeezing tight on his thumb as he bobs his head. "You're a fast learner," he's praised, and James focuses on his work for a few more minutes.

"Don't spit," he warns, and James wants to ask what he means by that when Ildarova comes in his mouth, bitter and thick.

James groans, coughing, and the scientist grabs him by the chin, lifting his head to look at his work. "Show me," he orders, and James opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out a bit. "Swallow."

He chokes and swallows hard, taking two gulps to clear his mouth of the stuff.

"Good boy," he's praised again, and Ildarova taps his cheek with his hand. James flushes down to his chest, ducking his head as he catches his breath. He's halfway hoping, almost expecting Ildarova to at least jack him off in return, maybe pay him back in kind with some head. Instead Ildarova turns away, gets changed, and then pushes past him to leave the changing stall. James is left wondering what the fuck he just did, and what he did wrong, as Ildarova returns the HEV suit components to their housing and leaves.

"Hey," Barney calls from his couch when James lets himself into his dorm. "All done with HEV training?" He's got James' PS2 controller in one hand, a beer in his other, feet up on the coffee table. James kicks his boots off at the door, grabs himself a beer, and drops down on the couch beside him without a word.

"How was it?" Barney asks, and James shrugs, eyes on the Spyro pause menu. "Learn anything good?" A pause, when there's no response. "Did you get to check out the suits--"

"Can you just play the game," James snaps, and instantly regrets it. Barney stares at him for a moment.

"What'd I do?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you pissed at me?"

"I'm... not. I'm sorry."

Barney's still looking at him, and James is starting to get nervous, like Barney might be able to figure it out if he doesn't distract him. "Did something happen?" Barney asks, sure enough, and James shakes his head quickly. "Okay, well, you're a bad liar," Barney laughs.

"Nothing happened."

"Is it the other guards?" Barney asks, setting his beer down. James sighs, closing his eyes. He's getting a headache, and he still doesn't know what he did wrong with Ildarova. Maybe he's bad at sucking dick.

"If they're still bullying you, you need to go to HR," Barney pushes, and James shakes his head, takes a swig off his beer.

"It's not the guards."

"...The scientists?" Barney asks, incredulous, and James bites his tongue. "Some old labcoat giving you trouble?"

"Yeah," James lies. Barney watches his face for a minute, sighs, and picks his beer back up to drink it.

"You let me know when you wanna tell me the truth, alright?" Barney says, and James scowls. He knows Barney's not mad at him, but he's suspicious, and that's even worse. He doesn't want Barney to know what he did today. It's personal.

The two of them are stationed at the front desk Friday morning, checking ID badges and pushing buttons to open doors. At noon, they're relieved by another pair of guards and head to lunch.

"We're taking some time off in a couple weeks," Barney's telling him, "for his birthday. Gonna go meet his folks." James is listening, hears the anxiety in Barney's voice as they head for their table. He's got his eyes on his pizza, like it might ooze off his plate and escape if he looks up from it.

"Hey, Gordon," Barney says as they reach the table. "Who's this?" James finally looks up and nearly drops his tray, nearly bolts from the cafeteria. Ildarova is sitting next to Gordon, across from his regular seat, watching him curiously.

"Maksim Ildarova," he introduces himself. Mock-seem. "I transferred from Black Mesa East." Gordon signs something then, and Barney grins as he sits down, shakes his head. "You are Doctor Freeman's boyfriend, yes?" Ildarova continues.

Barney blushes a bit, but doesn't hesitate to answer in the affirmative. "Yeah, I am."

Gordon pulls a little notepad from his lab coat pocket, jots down a note. Ildarova reads it and shrugs. "I don't know, I had HEV training?"

"You guys go through it together?" Barney asks, glancing at James. He can't speak. His throat feels completely constricted, like he's not going to be able to breathe. Barney stares at him, like he's trying to figure something out.

"Yes," Ildarova answers for him, and intentionally or not, nudges James' ankle under the table with the toe of his dress shoe. "It was fun, yeah?"

Gordon smiles, signs < I think it's boring,> and picks at his salad.

"So," Barney says, "Doctor Ildarova... What sector do you work in?"

"Anomalous Materials, lower level," Ildarova says, and Gordon signs something about work to Barney.

"Oh, right, you guys have that second test coming up in the spring..."

James lifts his head to find Ildarova has turned his attention back towards him. He makes shaky eye contact and quickly looks away, embarrassed. He stands, picking up his half eaten lunch.

"You're leaving?" Barney asks, brow furrowed.

James tries to speak and finds he can't; he just nods and hurries away to toss his food.

What is his problem, he wonders, slowing to a walking pace once he's out of the cafeteria. Sure, he's shy on a good day, but he hadn't even been able to say anything, the whole time he was sitting down. He's--flustered, that's a word for it. He feels warm and dizzy, almost like he's sick. Maybe he is. Sick in the head.

He wishes he had someone he could ask, but doesn'twant Barney to know, and he doesn't have anyone else here.

They're supposed to report to Anomalous Materials after lunch, and he might as well head down there now, if he's not going to eat. But first he stops in the locker room nearby to splash some water on his face, trying to breathe and act normal.

He could maybe ask Tom, but that's an uncomfortable thought too; the idea of his brother knowing that he blew some strange scientist in the changing room. Maybe he could talk to Josh, Tom's husband, but that's a whole other can of uncomfortable worms to lie in.

He turns off the water and grabs a paper towel to dry his face and hands. He doesn't feel right. Maybe he should call off work until he's normal again.

"You are alright?" Ildarova calls from behind him, and James jerks his head up to look at him in the mirror.

"Wh... what?"

"You left so quickly... you don't feel good?" Ildarova begins to approach and James turns to face him, back to the sink.

"You are just such a shy boy, hm?"

"I--no," James lies, and Ildarova grins, pushing into his personal space. He plants a hand on either side of James on the counter, leans in close, and James holds his breath, heart pounding again.

"You gonna be a good boy, go to work? Hm? Yeah?" Ildarova slips a knee between his thighs, presses just slightly into him. James has a couple inches on him height wise, but he feels so small, backed into the corner, Ildarova boxing him in.

"Jesus Christ," James hisses, and Ildarova just smirks knowingly. It's stressing him out, this effect Ildarova seems to have on him; he doesn't get it, and he feels stupid for not getting it, and he desperately wants to touch and be touched. The blonde's knee presses against his groin and James groans, ducking his head in shame The noise fades into a whine when Ildarova starts to pull away.

"You want help, hm? Say so?"

"P...please..."

"Ah, please what? Ask nicer?"

"Please... touch me," James chokes, and Ildarova wastes no time, presses a hand against the front of his slacks and feels him through his uniform.

"You want me to touch you? Khoroshiy malchik! Takoy milashka!"

James vaguely realizes that he's speaking Russian, and he has no idea what Ildarova is saying, but it's getting him so hot. He nods dumbly, gasping as Ildarova slides his hand into his pants and boxers. The scientist inhales sharply upon making contact with him, smirking. He's so close, James is having trouble making out his features, other than his smug grin.

"Tebe nravitsya eto? Da?" He nods, stroking James in his pants, and James groans and nods, not understanding but agreeing anyway.

Ildarova's hand is warm and soft skinned, but he has a firm grip, and he pumps him with precision, teasing little whines out of James. They're going to be late coming back from lunch, James thinks behind the haze of arousal in his brain. He doesn't care, not so long as he's being touched like that. Ildarova squeezes and slows his hand until James starts begging, stammering out "p-please, please," under his breath.

He says something else, and James can't tell if he's being asked another question or not, just nods and bucks his hips until the scientist quickens his hand again.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" James shivers. He whiiiiines, biting his lip as he finishes. "Khoroshiy malchik," Ildarova purrs, withdrawing his hand. James sinks down towards the floor.

He feels dumb. So, so dumb. Cumbrained idiot, he chides himself, as Ildarova wipes his hand off on a paper towel and disposes of it. He pauses and cocks his hip, looking over at James. "You are going to be late? Get up, get up."

James stands, legs trembling, and follows Ildarova out of the locker room. He doesn't try to match the Russian's pace, and Ildarova doesn't wait for him. It's not like they're going the same direction, anyway.

---

"Hey," Barney says, leaning beside him at his post. "You okay?"

James tamps down the urgent sense of anxiety rising in his chest and forces a shrug. A calm, neutral shrug, for a calm, neutral man. "Yeah. Why?"

"You left in a hurry," Barney says, scanning the hall. "Is something going on?"

Yes. "No," James says, "just wasn't hungry."

Barney nods, mmhmms. James doesn't like that; he knows his buddy's about to say something, about to catch him in his lie, so he changes the subject with flawless execution. "You're going to Seattle next month."

Whatever Barney had been about to say, he shuts his mouth, swallows, and nods. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, yeah, we're going. I'm just..." He trails off, shrugs. A noncommittal shrug for a noncommittal man. "Do you think... I mean, you know Gordon."

"We've met."

"Yeah, but you know what he's like. Do you think... He says his folks are kind and... not like mine, but..."

But he's scared to go and find out. "And I don't wanna act weird about it or anything and freak everyone out," Barney says, rubbing at his jaw. "I mean, maybe they're totally fine. Good people."

"He says they are."

"Yeah, but I mean... Don't tell him I said this." James nods, Barney continues. "I'm just scared that he's hiding it. If his dad's anything like mine..." Like Ed Calhoun? James has some secondary knowledge of him; despite never seeing so much as a photo, he has an idea of what he's like. Tall. Big. Imposing. Violent. He can't picture anyone related to Gordon being remotely similar. Gordon's dad is probably a scrawny nerd. Or maybe a mad scientist.

"Hm."

"What. What aren't you saying." Barney scrutinizes his face, trying to read something there.

"You should trust him."

"I trust him! I do."

"You love him."

"Okay, cram it. Shut up if you're not gonna help me."

"Not everyone's parents are bad," James says, and Barney huffs.

"Yeah, well, just cause you had a nice upbringing doesn't mean we all did." James kind of snorts at that, hides it behind a cough. What Barney doesn't know won't knock him over dead.

"What else," James asks, when Barney's been quiet a minute.

"What if he finds someone else," Barney says softly, then laughs and waves his hands to dissipate the thought. "I mean--if we go to Seattle and there's... someone better for him. Some other guy or something."

James tries to imagine Gordon with someone else and can't. The visual won't come up. "Like who?"

"I don't know, a city guy."

"Kick his ass. That's your man."

"You're not helping," Barney snaps at him, but he's trying not to smile. "Next time you're in crisis I'm not helping."

"I'm never in crisis."

"Uh huh. I'll keep that in mind."

"Gordon loves you," James says, eyes on the dead hallway. "He's not going to take you to meet shitty people. And he's not going to take you to Seattle to dump you." Barney mulls it over for a minute. "You know I'm right."

"Yeah, I know." He pauses. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Uh oh. He's got a nervous feeling creeping over him. Barney's about to make some piercing, perceptive comment--

"You got all weird at lunch." Well, maybe not that perceptive. Just enough to make him squirm.

"Uh, no? I was normal." Eyes on the hallway, avoiding Barney's gaze.

"Mhmm. I'm kind of putting two and two together over here."

"Don't hurt yourself."

Barney laughs and smacks him on the arm. "Seriously. Does that scientist bother you? Or make you uncomfortable, or..."

"No." It's not a complete lie. He's not... bothered by Ildarova. He's a lot of things. He's very confused! But not uncomfortable, not entirely.

"Alright," Barney says, and lets it drop. "You wanna hang out this weekend?"

"You want me to third-wheel?"

"Hey. Gordon and I are our own people, we can do things independently. I wanna go see a movie--that cowboy one. I don't think Gordon'd be into it, probably bore him to tears."

"So you're okay boring me to tears."

"Yeah, so suck it up." Barney elbows him and James grins. "You wanna go?"

"Yeah, sure."

Brokeback Mountain turns out to be anything but a boring cowboy movie, and the two of them exit the theater Saturday evening in a low mood to go meet Gordon at his dorm for dinner. "I'm not takin him to that one," Barney informs James. "Probably cry his eyes out."

"Projecting."

"Shut up. Just cause you don't know how to cry." He glances tearily at his buddy in time to see him hiding a smile. "Don't laugh at me, asshole."

"I'm not."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not!" He's really not. They stop outside of Gordon's dorm room and Barney lets them in with his key, complaining loudly and immediately to his boyfriend. James grabs himself a beer and settles in on the couch to third-wheel and cockblock.

---

Saturday night passes by, and Sunday is quick to follow. Monday morning, unfortunately, brings memories of the previous week back to the surface. Uh oh! He hadn't been ignoring those as well as he'd thought. James finds himself unable to focus throughout the morning, thoughts drifting back to training, and the new scientist, and whatever the fuck had happened in the locker room. He's supposed to head to the lower lab after he finishes in the office complex, but he finds himself dragging his feet, replaying the events of the previous week. It's weird. It's weird, right? Or is it weird of him to think so?

"You're late," the guard who he's there to relieve informs him. He looks really annoyed, but that's nothing new. Nobody likes him lately.

"Sorry."

The other guard just rolls his eyes, shouldering past him to leave, and James takes up his spot against the wall. At some point, he's going to have to deal with whatever's going on with himself, but for now, he leans and taps through his neglected email account. He never checks it. There could be emails in there! James mostly just skims the titles and mass deletes them, one page of Black Mesa notices at a time.

The afternoon is slow and boring. He sees all of three people pass through the hallway to the lower lab, and spends most of the time just watching the science team inside, or looking at his phone. He wishes Barney was here to talk to. He's upstairs for the rest of the shift, probably flirting with Gordon and cracking jokes. Having fun.

Actually, he could text him, couldn't he?

JW: hi

His message sits, unreplied-to, for a solid fifteen minutes before his phone vibrates.

BC: hey whats up

JW: bored... :(

BC: lol i tried to get carter to swap with you up here

BC: he wouldnt go for it

BC: how're things in the lower level anyway

BC: ildarova bothering you still?

He elects to ignore that message for another ten minutes, until Barney texts him again.

BC: ok well when youre ready to tell me you can tell me

JW: ok.

JW: do you wanna hang out tonight

BC: Gordon and I have plans but maybe tomorrow?

JW: yeah sounds good.

It does not sound good, it sounds like he's going to have to just deal with things alone, in silence, and he doesn't like that. James sighs, pulling up his texts with Tom, and hesitantly types out a message, deletes it, then retypes and sends it.

JW: call me when you have time

The guard who relieves him at the end of his shift is nearly fifteen minutes late, which is annoying. The science team filters out a couple at a time, leaving him guarding a dark and empty lab, which feels stupid as hell. He's not an overnight guy, he shouldn't have to be here after five.

The overnight shift arrives without apology, and James huffs, straightening up from where he's been leaning. He starts down the hall, feeling crabby. Late to punch out, best friend can't hang out... overall a shitty Monday.

And then there's the rest of the thing hanging over him, which he's been trying not to think too hard about all weekend. What does it mean if you suck a guy off and then he jacks you off? And you're both coworkers at Black Mesa?

He buys a sandwich for dinner and then locks himself in his dorm, turning on his Playstation 2 to load Tomb Raider. At least there's video games. They're normal, unchanging. Quicktime events can be redone if you fuck them up, and cutscenes don't ever suddenly come up different on your second or third playthrough. Consistency--there's the word.

His phone rings during a boss fight, and James quickly pauses, dropping the controller. He answers, holding his Blackberry to his ear.

"Hello? James?" There's a pause, and then panic creeps into Tom's voice, laying over his accent. "James, are you there? You gotta say something--"

James exhales a breath that he feels he's been holding in all day. "Hey," he croaks. "Uh. Hi."

"I got your message," Tom says, and James just nods, until Tom prompts him. "You told me to call you?"

"Ah, yeah..."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," James says, but he can feel himself choking up. "Uh--shit, sorry."

"You go ahead, tell me what's goin on."

James sighs and hangs his head. "Tom, I... I don't even know," he admits. "I don't know where to start."

"It's James," Tom says, holding the phone away from his mouth. Talking to his husband Josh, probably.

And in the same vein of "probably," it's most likely safe to tell Tom what's up. Tom will understand, or at the least he'll sympathize, and he'll tell James what he's supposed to do and things will be okay.

"D'you remember when you came out?" James asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, I recall," Tom says, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Mom about killed me."

James pauses. "I don't remember that."

"Well, you were pretty young. It took her some time to come around to it," Tom says. "Got better whenever she and Dad were apart, and when she left the church, but for a long while she thought I was gonna turn you gay somehow."

James chokes, covering his face. "Hey--James! You've gotta tell me what's up, I don't know what's wrong right now. Hello?" He covers the mouthpiece of the phone for a moment, but James can faintly hear him. "He's real worked up over somethin, I don't know..."

"I think I--" James sucks in a shaky breath, "‘m gay, Tom. Oh fuck."

There's a pause on the line. "S'that what this is really about?" Tom asks. "James, you're not gay."

James squeezes his eyes shut, nodding. He can faintly hear Josh on the other side, asking Tom what the hell is going on.

"What makes you think you're gay?" Tom asks, when James doesn't say anything. He sighs, prompting him again. "James, come on--"

"I sucked a guy off," James says softly, feeling like he's being crushed by the weight of it all.

"...That all?" Tom asks, sounding relieved.

"That's not enough?"

"Well no, I mean... people experiment. It doesn't mean you're gay." James groans. His brother's not getting it like he'd hoped he would. "You've gotta calm down about this, alright?"

"Kay," James mumbles, rubbing his eyes. There's a knock at his dorm room door. Probably Barney. "I gotta go," he says.

"Alright, well... you give me a call if you need to, okay?"

"Yeah," James says, unlocking his door to swing it open.

"I'll be around tomorrow, and you can text me too, alright? James?"

"Right," James says, and hangs up. Ildarova smiles at him.

"I'm interrupting?"

"N--how do you know where I live," James cuts himself off.

"Ah? I just asked some of your buddies. Your guard friends?"

That's going to be a problem later, James notes. He's not exactly popular right now as it is, and he'll be even less so if word spreads that he's got handsome male scientists asking for his room. Still, southern hospitality comes much more naturally to him than slamming the door in peoples' faces, so James steps back to let him in. Ildarova toes his shoes off at the entrance, looks around with interest.

"Your room is small," he points out. James nods. "Ah, tsss... small bed." He wanders towards the other side of the couch, eyes on the TV. "Videoigry?"

"It's Tomb Raider," James says, standing back and feeling like a stranger in his own room. Ildarova cocks his head.

"Show me how to play, yeah?"

James settles tentatively back down on the couch, picking up the controller. He unpauses, almost gets murked by the boss, and resumes shooting the hell out of the monster.

Ildarova watches in silence, and James doesn't say anything. He's trying to return focus to the game, to lose himself in the puzzles and levers and shootouts, but having the other man right there beside him is putting him on edge.

He pauses again after a while, standing to get himself a beer. He glances at his guest. "Do you... drink?"

Ildarova laughs. "Does the Russian drink? Of course, I'll take whatever you have."

James returns with two beers, handing one to Ildarova, who takes a swig right away. He settles back in on the couch, holding the beer in one hand and the controller in the other, not doing anything.

"You, uh... are you gonna do anything?" he asks, and Ildarova raises an eyebrow.

"No? You want me to, huh?"

"Didn't say that," James mumbles, flushing red.

"Play your, hmm, game?"

James unpauses, but doesn't do anything. Lara stands still on the TV screen, occasionally doing her idle animations and looking around. James glances over at Ildarova, who makes eye contact, drinking his beer.

James licks his lips, pausing again. His hands are shaking. He's trying to put the vibes out there, send whatever signal he needs to send, but all he can seem to do is steal furtive glances.

"You want something? Hm? Say it then," Ildarova teases, and James stammers.

"J-just... Just curious..."

Ildarova cocks his head, grinning. "What? Tell me."

"If... are you... f-flirting with me."

Ildarova laughs, and James' heart sinks. Ah. So that's a no.

"Yeay? Yeah, I called you cute, didn't I?" James looks away, face red. "I jack you off, didn't I?" He's leaning closer, and James leans away, heart pounding.

"Y-yeah, but... I don't even know you," James mumbles.

"So?" Ildarova asks, and James chews his lip. "You didn't know me to suck me off, huh."

...He's got no rebuttal for that.

"We don't have to do anything," the scientist says, waving his hand. "You are uncomfortable? We don't do anything." He takes another drink. "Just play your game."

James drums his fingertips on his thigh. "I... want to," he says, avoiding eye contact.

"Hmmm? You want to what?" Ildarova grins at him.

"I--I want... I don't know, I want to do something."

"Ask so nicely? Ask please? What do you want to do?"

James doesn't know, that's half the problem, and the other half is that his brain is short circuiting. He has a general idea (touching, holding) but no solid goals to head towards. "K...kissing," he stammers.

"You want kisses?" Ildarova asks, scooting closer. James nods, unable to meet his gaze. "So cute," the scientist laughs. "Ask nicely."

"Can... please? Please kiss me..?" Ildarova doesn't jump him immediately, but sets his beer aside, then takes the controller from James and puts it on the coffee table. James hands over his untouched beer as well, and the blonde pats his thighs, inviting him over. James crawls closer on the couch, but hesitates when Ildarova tries to pull him into his lap.

"Sit, sit, come here," Ildarova encourages him, and James settles hesitantly, straddling his thighs. "Relax," he says, resting his hands on James' thighs. "You want me to kiss you? Relax and close your eyes."

James swallows, letting his eyelids fall shut. "Good. So cute, James." His cheeks are burning. Ildarova cups his jaw with his hand, stroking his cheekbone. "Good, good... Come closer?"

James leans in, letting Ildarova guide him. "Don't look, okay?"

"Okay," James murmurs, feeling Ildarova put a hand over his eyes. The anticipation is killing him. "Can--"

"Shh," Ildarova says, closer than James had expected. He shivers, suddenly aware of the other man's breath on his skin, and then his lips, pressing lightly, gently against his own.

Ildarova takes his hand away from James' eyes, and his lashes flutter with the effort of staying shut. His hand returns to James' thigh, rubbing his leg through his uniform pants. His other hand drifts from James' jaw to the back of his head, pulling him closer still.

It takes Ildarova a minute of coaxing to get James to open his mouth, and once his tongue slips past the guard's lips, it doesn't let up. James groans, shifting in his lap. He's not sure what he's supposed to do while Ildarova is kissing him, but then the Russian's tongue slides against his and it feels so good, he's getting light headed--

"Breathe," Ildarova orders him, pulling away. James nods, sucking in air. "You have to keep breathing through your nose, okay?" He smirks. "Just like... when you blow me."

They kiss again, Ildarova scratching the back of James' head with his nails, making shivers run up and down his back. He feels so good, he feels so hot, and that heat is unfurling in his stomach as Ildarova drags their tongues together.

"Can... can you touch me," James asks, when he pulls back again. "Please," he tacks on, hoping that'll win him some favors; but apparently he doesn't need to beg, because Ildarova is already unzipping his pants to get to his hardon. James groans as he begins to stroke him, leaning forward , and Ildarova kisses, then bites at his neck, sucking a hickey into his skin. James ruts into his hand, bracing himself against the back of the couch.

"You like that," the scientist asks, and James nods, groaning.

"Yeaaah..."

"You want to come for me?" James nods harder, bucking his hips. "Say my name, and I'll get you off."

"Ildaro--"

"No, no," the Russian laughs, squeezing James at the head of his dick. "Maksim."

"Oh, f-fuck," James whines, and then whines harder when Ildarova stops moving his hand and pulls it away. "Maksim," he whimpers, and the hand returns in duplicate, one on his dick and the other fondling his balls.

"Again?" Maksim prompts him, and James slurs his name a second time, earning himself another deep kiss. A well timed squeeze pushes him over the edge, and James chokes when he comes. He continues bucking his hips, panting and groaning through his orgasm as Maksim strokes him, until he's all spent.

"Khoroshiy malchik," Maksim purrs, as James leans against him to catch his breath. "Such good boy, yeah?"

"Jesus," James groans, head on Maksim's shoulder. He's tired, and part of him just wants to fall over on the couch and go to sleep.

The other part of him is too mortified by what just happened to even consider sleep. Mortified and fascinated and curious as to how far they can go. He sits back, glancing at the bulge in the scientist's pants. Maksim pats his shoulder, chuckling.

"You don't need to push yourself," he says, and James nods as he lifts his head. He really wants to, though.

"Could I..." he trails off, licking his lips and looking off to the side. "Just jack you off, maybe..."

"You can do whatever you want?" James nods again, glancing at Maksim's amused face. He swallows and climbs off Maksim's lap, pushing the coffee table away to kneel between his socked feet on the floor. He reaches carefully for Maksim's zipper, fumbling with his fly. "Go ahead..."

Heart pounding, James unfastens Maksim's slacks and frees his cock from the confines of his shorts. Taking hold of his erection, skin to skin, sends a fresh jolt of excitement through James, and he glances up at Maksim as he strokes him. The Russian makes eye contact with a smirk and James has to look away, back to the task at hand.

He doesn't realize that he's leaning in until Maksim's hand is on his head, petting his hair. "So cute," Maksim reminds him, and James huffs and shivers, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock. "Ohh--good boy, James."

Fuck. His voice is hoarse, strained, as James laps at the head. Maksim groans wordlessly, tilting his head back against the back of the couch. He slurs something Russian, completely unintelligible to James.

James curls his lips over his teeth, taking the tip into his mouth. He almost forgets the trick to conquering his gag reflex and chokes a bit, but Maksim only moans, cock twitching in James' mouth. His hand moves from the top of James' head to his jaw, thumb rubbing over his cheek.

"Ty takoy milyy..."

James flushes, bobbing his head awkwardly to take Maksim's dick further into his mouth. He works up a steady rhythm, taking Maksim into his throat and then pulling back, cheeks hollowed, tricks he only knows from porn--but they seem to be working fine, as Maksim slurs his words and grabs onto his hair again, pulling him up.

James pants, resuming pumping him hard. Maksim tosses his head back when he comes, all over James' face and in his open mouth. It takes him a minute to recover, but he finally lifts his head up, looking down at James, and grins at him.

"You look good like that, yeah?" James nods, licking his lips. "Kak podrostok... You are still energetic after that? Come here, clean your face." James reluctantly climbs back onto the couch, letting Maksim wipe his cum off his cheeks with a discarded t-shirt off the floor.

"You look tired," the Russian says. "You should sleep?"

"I don't... want to," James says, and Maksim raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"I--I want to keep going. I don't want that to be all..."

"Ah? Who said this was all? I will come back and fuck again tomorrow, if you want." James jolts, blushing. He sighs and nods finally, and Maksim taps his cheek before standing. "You'll see me tomorrow? Don't look sad?"

"...Yeah."

He sinks into the couch once Maksim's gone, groaning. He is really tired, and he should go brush his teeth and crawl into bed... But concerned rejection or not, rejection stings. He knows he probably got a little excited, maybe a little too into it, and that's why Maksim left.

But he's never done anything like this, never had this. James looks down at his hands, glances at the t-shirt that Maksim had wiped his face with, and then sighs and stands to go brush his teeth.

Barney texts him as he's climbing into bed, and James peeks at the message.

BC: hey can you do me a favor? im spending tonight over at gordons room

JW: ok....

BC: do you have the schedule for tomorrow? also if i dont make it back before work in the morning bring me underwear?

JW: ughhhhhhh fine.

BC: you ok?

JW: tired.

BC: oh sorry... have a good night ok?

JW: yeah

He sends over the photo he took of the week's schedule, then rolls over to sleep. He can't help but be a little irritated with Barney. Not that he doesn't love his buddy. He's like a little brother. But he knows for a fact Barney got to fool around in his teenage years, because Barney's gotten drunk enough to cry in his arms about it before. And now he also gets to fool around all night with Gordon, as much as he wants.

James never had a chance to figure this shit out, and he doesn't know what to do now, besides press his face into his pillow and pass out.

---

He gets up late, which is a problem--but besides that, he wakes up stressed, already sick to his stomach and anxious. Yesterday feels nowhere near as dreamlike as he'd like it to be. It's all too real, and that's uncomfortable to deal with. What is wrong with him? Why does he keep doing this shit when he knows it makes him feel weird later?

His phone rattles on his nightstand, but James doesn't have time to look at whatever texts he's getting. He's running too far behind, and he feels like he's going to break down and cry if he doesn't get up and get to work. He changes into his uniform, hurriedly ties his boots, grabs his phone, keys and wallet, and runs for the tram.

He makes it to his station almost half an hour late, feeling shitty. There are two guards waiting near the entrance to Anomalous Materials--Eric, and some guy whose name escapes James right now. The guard he's there to replace snaps at him to inform him of what time it is, then storms off to get to his next post. Eric kind of curls his lip but doesn't say anything, at first. They stand in uncomfortable silence for a long time, until James tries to pull out his phone as it buzzes with a new text.

"How about you put that away and do your job?" Eric snaps, looking up from his own phone, and James stuffs it right back into his pocket, silent. He doesn't like Eric at all, never really has--but he doesn't feel keen about standing up to him, or making him mad. As much as he'd like to punch Eric's face in...

Graham wanders past the end of the hall, then doubles back and approaches to talk to Eric. "Hey," he says, and glances at James briefly. "Adam said you asked for me."

"Yeah, well," Eric points his chin sharply at James, "if you wanna swap with that one, that'd be great." They talk like James isn't there at all. Fine by him.

Graham laughs. "Boss isn't gonna like that," he says.

"Yeah, well."

"I don't care one way or the other," Graham says. He addresses James for the first time. "You got level two clearance, Welk?"

He nods, eyes on the far wall. "Speak up," Eric snaps at him, and James feels his face go hot.

He stammers and chokes out a response. "Yes." Graham laughs again, and James glances at him quickly, then away again. He doesn't like this guy either.

"Get goin then," Graham says, and James hesitates.

"Where am I g--"

"To the upper lab," Eric snaps at him, "can you pay attention? Jesus."

James hurries away as Graham takes his place, and he only just hears Eric make some comment about how he can't stand that jackass as he rounds the corner. This isn't making him feel better. If anything, the knot in his stomach has gotten worse.

He reaches his destination outside of the upper lab and stops, leaning against the wall. He really wants to call it a day, go back to his dorm and sleep this off, but that's not an option. James lifts his head as Barney rounds the corner, happy to see him.

"Hey," Barney says gruffly, stopping in front of him. A pause. "So did you forget?"

"Forget what," James asks, and Barney's face twitches slightly, like he's irritated.

"Did you even check your phone?" James stares blankly at him. "You remember what I asked you last night?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Sorry."

Barney looks like he wants to say something, but he just sighs, shakes his head. "It's fine. Just feels weird." James tries not to laugh at that, nods instead as Barney joins him in leaning against the wall.

"I'm gettin real anxious," Barney confides in him quietly. "About goin and meetin Gordon's folks." James doesn't ask why. He doesn't want to make him dredge it up right now. Barney sighs and continues anyway.

"I'm really scared they're not gonna like me," he says, and James looks back over at him.

"Why."

"You know... dumb guard like me, smart guy like Gordon... I'm not good enough for him." James' face twitches slightly, and he tries not to feel hurt about that--but for a second, it feels like Barney doesn't just mean that he's a dumb guard, but that every guard is too stupid, not good enough. He slams that feeling back down and lets the moment pass.

"They'll like you," James says after a minute, realizing that Barney's waiting for him to reply. "People like you." Barney sighs.

"It's just nerve wracking." James bumps him with his arm, and Barney shakes his head. "Anyway. You were late this morning, huh?"

James nods. "Are you doing okay..?" Barney asks, and he nods again. "I mean, you still haven't told me about what happened last week. C'mon," he prods, when James presses his lips together and shakes his head. "If you're still being bullied--"

"I don't... want to tell you."

Barney stares at him for a minute, and James feels like shrinking down and scuttling away, like a cockroach. "Why."

"You wouldn't understand," James mumbles, and Barney's expression goes from confused to upset.

"You think I wouldn't understand?"

"No," James grits out.

"Whatever's going on, I can help you."

"I don't want you to know," James snaps, and Barney leans away from him, stands up off the wall.

"Okay, nice. Cool." He pauses, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing at his face. "Well when you're ready to ask for help--"

"Don't need it."

"Bullshit," Barney laughs dryly. James doesn't say anything, just gnaws on the inside of his cheek. Barney sighs, dropping his hand from his face. "I'm not mad, just so you know."

"Mm."

"I just wanna know that you're not being hurt," Barney says softly, and James nods, eyes on his boots. "I gotta get back to my post, but... I'll see you at lunch, alright?" Another nod.

He feels like shit, which just seems unfair. He doesn't want to tell Barney, but not telling him is making him feel bad, and it sucks.

James heads to lunch a little after noon, grabs his pizza, and sits down next to Barney--who immediately begins telling him about the shitshow going down in the office complex, something about an alarm that won't stop going off. James nods as Barney talks, and eats his pizza. Things seem okay, right now. Like maybe the uncomfortable tension between them is gone.

"Pretty sure they've got rats chewing through the wires in there," Barney's saying. "You know they've got a bug infestation there too. Hey, babydoll." James looks up from his food as Gordon sits down, and freezes. Maksim is with him, eyeing James and then Barney as he sits down. "Hey," Barney addresses him, and Maksim nods. "Doctor Ildarova, right?"

They chit chat a bit, and James keeps his head down, eyes on his food. "You alright?" Barney asks, elbowing him, and James nods, glancing at Maksim through his lashes. Gordon signs something, and Barney looks over at him, giving James just enough time to stand and hurry away.

"Hey!" Barney calls, jogging after him. James huffs, and Barney grabs onto his arm to make him face him. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing, I'm..." Embarrassed? He is, he's too shy to be around Maksim in front of Barney, too hot under the collar, too scared of being judged. And deep down he know Barney wouldn't judge him, or laugh at him, and maybe it's worse like this, letting Barney think something bad is happening, but--

"It's not nothing," Barney presses. "Did--did that guy do something?"

"No." He answers a little too quickly, and Barney presses his lips together. Not buying it. He allows James to pull away though, watches him hustle down the hallway in the other direction.

---

Barney and Gordon don't spend much of any time in Barney's dorm anymore. It's helped mellow Eric out a bit, Barney's noticed, and that was much needed. Instead they're at Gordon's dorm again the Saturday before they fly out to Seattle. Just hanging out together, watching X-files on the couch as Barney leafs through Gordon's textbooks and absorbs nothing.

"How well do you know that new scientist?" Barney asks, and Gordon tears his eyes away from Fox Mulder to look at him quizzically.

< Who?>

"Doctor Ildarova."

< Oh. Not very well. He works in the lower lab.> Barney nods, thinking. < He seems nice,> Gordon continues.

"I'm worried," Barney admits. Gordon cocks his head to the side. "About James," Barney continues. "He won't tell me, but--I think someone's shovin him around again. And I have a hunch it's that Ildarova guy."

< Why do you think that?>

"He's being cagey," Barney groans, "and God knows he doesn't stand up for himself--and every time that scientist has come around, he's gone all jumpy and run off."

< Have you asked him,> Gordon asks, scooting closer on the couch.

"Yeah, and he says he doesn't want to tell me." Gordon nods, and Barney continues. "I mean, I get it, hell... It's hard to talk about, and Lord knows I couldn't tell anyone, when I was being beat--but I mean, I didn't have anyone. He's got me.I just want him to feel like he can tell me this stuff..."

Gordon leans over and rests his head against Barney's shoulder. "I just care about him," Barney mumbles. "He's about all I had when I came here, you know."

< I know.> Gordon lifts his head again, turns to kiss Barney and crawl into his lap. < It's Saturday,> he signs, changing the subject. Barney snorts.

"Oh, so you think just cause you had your shot--"

< Yep.>

"Can't argue with that," Barney chuckles, as Gordon starts to peel his t-shirt off.

---

Maksim just does what he wants, James is starting to realize. Like a cat. He's invited himself back over to James' dorm, and James had had few options other than letting him in. He couldn't very well just leave him standing in the hall, dressed like he is. That is to say...

James glances at Maksim's boots by his door. Black leather, with a heel that makes a menacing clack on the linoleum. He looks over at Maksim himself, sitting on the couch with his beer--faded jeans, with the black waistband of his underwear peeking out, a black cropped t-shirt, and a denim jacket over the top--and quickly looks away when Maksim makes eye contact with him.

He looks blatantly, flagrantly gay, and James can't have him just hanging out outside his dorm room. That's why he'd let Maksim in, he tells himself. Right after slamming the door in his face, he'd let him in.

Not that he doesn't look good. James steals another glance and chokes, because Maksim's still watching him. The scientist grins, leaning towards him.

"You are allowed to look, you know? It's free."

James nods, flushed, but keeps his eyes on his beer as he drinks it. He doesn't know how to do this, how to flirt with someone, but he wants to. He takes a long drink of his beer, and Maksim pipes up partway through.

"You're so cute." James sputters and coughs and spits beer all over himself, scowls down at the wet mess down the front of his shirt. Maksim chuckles, lifting his own beer to his mouth. "So cute, so shy," he muses, tipping his head back to down the rest of his drink. James watches his throat bob and swallows hard himself.

Maksim sighs happily and leans over to set his empty beer bottle aside. "Well? Do you want to fuck?" he asks, and James swallows again, face hot. Yes. He wants to. He nods slowly, glancing over at Maksim, who's watching him like a snake eyeing its next meal.

"Tell me what you want," Maksim says, and James chews his lip for a moment. He doesn't know what he wants, is the thing--well, he wants sex, but he can't say that. Maksim's going to get bored if he doesn't say something, he thinks.

"Can I suck you off," he asks, and Maksim smirks, shrugs.

"Of course you can?"

James sets his beer aside, half spilled and half drank, and moves to kneel between Maksim's stockinged feet again, quickly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his zipper. "Take off your shirt," Maksim orders him as he's pulling his underwear aside--and James hesitates, unsure about that. Maksim lifts his foot, strokes James' thigh with it, and he shudders and peels his t-shirt off over his head.

"Good boy," Maksim purrs, eyeing him openly. James distracts himself from being embarrassed by leaning back in, licking up the underside of Maksim's cock to draw a pleased murmur out of the Russian.

He's bobbing his head, sucking sloppily when Maksim asks him a question. "Have you ever been fucked?" James glances up at him as Maksim tangles a hand in his hair, makes an "mm-mm" sound in his throat. Maksim laughs, and he flushes, returning his eyes to his work. "Well, have you ever even fingered yourself?" Maksim asks next, and James ignores him, focuses instead on kissing and sucking from the tip of his cock down to his balls. He's been watching a lot of porn lately, and he's picked up some techniques.

"You want to?" Maksim asks, and then makes a soft pleased noise in the back of his throat. "Ah--such good boy," he praises, grabbing James by the hair to guide him back to the tip. James takes the hint, opens his mouth and bobs his head back down, thumb squeezed in his fist. "You have such a nice mouth, a nice body... you would look so good being fucked," Maksim says, and James can't be sure if he's being teased or what, but he's hard in his pants, and he feels in the mood for some stupid decisions.

Maksim cums in his mouth with a groan, tugging at James' hair. "Show me," he orders, and James does, breathing hard around the cum in his mouth. "Good boy," Maksim chuckles, tapping his cheek as James swallows.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Maksim petting his hair and James stroking him lazily, hyper aware of his own erection, neglected in his pants. Maksim moves his socked foot from the floor to James' lap, pressing against his bulge, rubbing it through his pants. James whines, glancing up at him, trying to convey something through his gaze.

"You want me to get you off?" Maksim offers, and he nods. "Say it, then," Maksim says.

James shivers and groans softly as Maksim moves his foot away, cock twitching in his pants.

"Please," James tries, and Maksim clicks his tongue.

"Get up on the couch then?" he says, and James nods eagerly, crawling back into his seat. Maksim pushes his knees apart, tugs his zipper down, and wastes no time in pulling James' cock out and pumping him. James watches him and groans shakily when Maksim leans over to take the tip into his mouth, eyes on his face.

Maksim's mouth is so warm and wet, and his tongue is so soft, and the feeling is different from a hand, more than he'd expected. James cums in record time, head tipped back in a groan as Maksim keeps swallowing around him, playing with his balls.

"Fuck," James whines, pushing at him, and Maksim finally lets up, lifts his head and smirks at him. He'd wanted to last longer, and he's cursing his inexperience for that.

"Want to go again?" Maksim asks, and James lifts his arm off his face to look down at him and nod.

---

Barney's on his way back to the guard dorms later when he passes by Ildarova. Something tells him that he shouldn't, that he oughta mind his business and keep coaxing James to talk to him--but he's not always great at listening to that voice in his head.

"Hey," he calls, turning in the hall. The Russian stops, glances back at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Ildarova nods and turns to follow Barney out of the hall. Barney bites his tongue, trying to figure out how to word this. He has to be delicate with this situation.

"Are you bullying James," he asks, then hisses and shakes his head. "Tssss... No, uh, that's not what I meant to say."

"Bullying," Ildarova echoes, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah. Are you? He's been acting weird."

"You think I am hurting him somehow? No."

"Okay, well, I don't believe that," Barney says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Every time you come around, he gets upset. Can you explain that?"

Ildarova stares at him for a long minute, and Barney's starting to wonder if maybe the scientist doesn't understand him when he speaks. "He asks you to come say this to me?"

"What? No. He said whatever's going on, he didn't want me to know."

"And you, ah... Don't respect that?"

"It's not that I don't respect--I'm worried about him," Barney stresses. "I just wanna make sure he's safe."

"Why do you think he is not safe with me," Ildarova asks, sounding hurt.

"Look, I don't even know you--are you guys... friends, or something? Anything? He won't tell me, and he got mad when I asked."

"I am not bullying him," Ildarova huffs, upset. "You do not know me, but you think this about me? Why?"

"I'm just tryin to figure this out," Barney says. Ildarova glances away. "Just--don't worry about it then, alright?"

"Okay," Ildarova says, not looking at him.

---

Maksim's been gone about half an hour, long enough for James to get a shower and sit back down on his couch, when his phone rings. He's half considering ignoring it, but picks it up to check the caller ID, then answers quickly.

"Hey."

"Hi," Maksim says carefully. "Your friend, mm, Barney?"

"Yeah..?" James already doesn't like where this is headed. Maksim is quiet for a moment.

"He says I make you upset... Like I am mean to you."

James sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's true?" Maksim asks. "You couldn't say to me yourself?" He sounds hurt.

"No, its-- I didn't ask him to tell you that. It's not."

"Why does he think this, then?"

"I don't know," James groans. "I-- I'll talk to him."

He heads for the hall after Maksim hangs up, to let himself into Barney's room. "Hey," his buddy says, looking over the back of the couch at him. "What's up."

James says nothing, just fidgets with a loose thread on the back of the couch. Barney watches him for a minute, eyebrow raised.

"Are you--"

"You should--" They start to speak at the same time, stop, and then James goes ahead. "You shouldn't be... bothering Ildarova."

Barney opens and shuts his mouth. "I--I mean," James stammers, trying again. "You--he told me that you said he upsets me. And he doesn't." He bites his lip, eyes on Barney's coffee table. "So, uh. Please drop it."

Barney looks thoroughly confused, when James glances at him next. "I mean, I talked to him," Barney says, "cause I thought he was pushing you around."

"He's not."

"Are you guys friends, then, or...?"

"S... something, yeah."

"Something," Barney echoes, and James squeezes his eyes shut.

"We're f... fooling around." He's shaking, and he can't explain why. "We--I... I'm experimenting," he admits, lowering his head as Barney stands, stepping around the couch.

"It's okay," Barney says, as James keens.

"I don't know why I'm crying," he admits, letting Barney hug him.

"I know. It's alright."

Somehow, it just feels shameful all around. He knows there's no reason to feel that way, it's stupid, he just...

It feels like he's letting everyone down, somehow. His mom would lose it if she knew, and his dad--well, he's always been an asshole, so who cares what he thinks. Tom doesn't even believe him, barely even listened to him. Barney's the only one that's here for him now, he's realizing. And he's been an asshole to him this whole time.

He lets Barney lead him around to the front of the couch, where he sits down heavily. "You know I'm not gonna judge you, right," Barney says, and James nods. "Okay. You wanna tell me how this started?"

So James spills. "They paired us up for training," he says. "Friday I was helping him out of the HEV suit and he asked if I was gay and I said I didn't know and he asked if I wanted to suck him off and I did. I--I wanted to, so bad, so I did."

"Do you like him?" Barney asks softly, and James whines, closing his eyes tight.

"I... I like messing around with him. And I like him, I just don't know if I..."

"I get it," Barney says, and James nods, biting his lip. He lets himself be pulled into another hug, buries his face in Barney's shoulder. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but... You just gotta be careful, okay? I mean, if you're just having fun, that's fine, but if he's... using you, or..."

"I know," James murmurs.

"Do you think he is?"

"No," James says, and that's kind of a lie, because yeah. Maksim wants to get his dick wet, and James knows he's an easy target, and desperate to please on top of that; just gagging for validation. Of course he's being used. It's convenient.

"Okay," Barney says, letting him pull away. "I'm sorry for overstepping, by the way," he says, as his phone starts to ring and vibrate on the coffee table. He ignores it. James glances over. "I just don't want you to get hurt, cause I care about you, and--"

"It's Tom," James says, and Barney sits up, grabbing his phone.

"Hold on. Hello?" A pause, and he grins. "Hey, Tom. Yeah! Yeah, I'm just sittin here with James... He's, uh..." Barney glances at him, shrugs. "Good?"

James sits patiently, trying not to listen in, as Barney talks to his brother. "You wanna talk to him?" Barney asks after a while. "Nah, I don't mind. Here he is."

He takes the phone carefully, hesitantly, and holds it up to his ear. "Hey."

"Hey, James! You, ah... feeling any better?"

"Yeah."

"Good! Hey, look, I wanted to give you a heads up real fast... Mom wants you to fly home for a couple days next month... you can stay with me and Josh, but she's talkin like gran ain't doin so good, and she wants us to see her before she goes."

James groans. "I know, me too," Tom says, "and you don't have to come, you're a grown man. Just wanted to give you a heads up, give you the opportunity..."

James rubs his face again. He doesn't want to go home, not right now. He can't even really afford the time off, anyway--that's if his supervisor will even give it to him.

"And dad'll be there," Tom slips in.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Mom invited him."

"Are they back together?" James asks quietly.

"I don't know, you know how they are... But he's a bigshot now I guess, and knowing mom, she wants in on his will." Tom sighs, and James is silent for a long minute. "I'll let you get back to it, but... Just a heads up, that's what's goin on."

"Thanks."

"And it's not like you can't come out some other time instead, just... I don't know, we'll work something out if you wanna visit later. Josh and I would love to see you."

"Okay."

"Okay? I love you," Tom says, "Talk to you later." The line clicks and goes dead. James hands Barney his phone back and leans back against the arm of the couch.

"You wanna watch X-files?" Barney asks, and James nods, making himself comfy as Barney rewinds the VCR.

---

Come Sunday morning, he's exhausted from staying up late, watching TV with Barney. He shuffles to his bathroom to shower, brush his teeth, and shave, then goes right back to bed to lay down and check his phone. Maksim has texted him a couple times, between 6 and 8 am.

Maksim: Good morning! (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

Maksim: How is cute James today? ╰(*´︶`*)╯

Maksim: Ah, I bet you are sleeping...

James sighs, dragging his comforter over himself and curling up under it to respond. He's too tired to drag himself out of bed just yet.

JW: hey

Maksim: Hello!

JW: what are those faces

Maksim: ꉂ ꀞꀞꀞ(ᕑᗢूᓫ∗)˒˒

Maksim: You like them?

James debates how to answer that for a while, half dozing. Maksim texts him again.

Maksim: Do you want to hang out? Maybe? (¬‿¬ )

JW: maybe

Maksim: Come over to my dorm. _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

He has no idea what that face is supposed to mean. James chuckles, climbing out of bed to get dressed, as Maksim texts him his dorm info. Once dressed, he slips his shoes on at the door and heads out, locking it behind himself.

He doesn't pay much mind to the couple of guards playing pool in the rec room as he passes by, just keeps walking towards the exit to go board the tram. It's not until he's almost at the door that Eric calls out to him.

"Welk." James pauses, looking back. Eric lifts a hand, crooks his finger like he's calling an animal. "C'mere."

James approaches, nervous, as Graham makes his way over from the pool table. "What'd you do yesterday?" Eric asks, and James pauses, thinking back. Besides fooling around with Maksim...?

"Hung out."

"Mmhmm. Who'd you hang out with?"

"A friend," he says, and Eric chuffs, shaking his head.

"Right, sure. What's his name? Ivan?" James purses his lips. He may be stupid, but he's not going to drop Maksim's name for Eric. "What'd you guys do?" Eric presses, walking towards him. James takes a couple of steps back. He glances at Graham, holding the pool cue, then back to Eric.

"I don't have a problem with gay people," Eric clarifies unprompted, "but you know I'm not going to tolerate it happening in my dorms. I made that clear before, didn't I?"

James nods, face flushed. He glances nervously at Graham and the pool cue again.

"So tell me the truth. What'd you and Ivan get up to yesterday, in your dorm?"

James swallows, looks back and forth between the two of them. "We just talked."

"Graham," Eric says, holding his hand out, and the other guard hands him the pool cue. James balks, staggering back a few more steps. "Stay," Eric warms, and James stops, digs in his heels, instincts flickering between fight flight and fawn at a frightening pace. He watches, fear building in his chest, as Eric approaches with the cue.

"This is gonna be your last warning," Eric says. "Got it? After that, I'm asking HR to pull the footage from last time." James swallows, scared. "Do you understand? Answer me when I'm talking to you."

"Yes."

"You don't want to lose this job, right?"

"No."

"Alright then." Eric steps back, turns away to line up his shot on the pool table. The clack of the balls against one another makes James jump on his way back to his dorm.

He's not sure why he's so scared. Barney's told him over and over again, you're a big guy, Eric can't hurt you. But Eric has the security camera footage of their fight, that time he'd snapped and tried to bash his face in, and if he goes to HR...

James doesn't want to go home. He doesn't want to leave Black Mesa.

He kicks his shoes off and settles in on the couch, shaken. He digs his phone out of his pocket to shoot off a couple of texts.

JW: im not coming over

JW: sorry

Maksim: You want me to come there again?

JW: no

JW: sorry

Maksim: Ah...? Okay.

This feels shitty. Here he'd been so excited to go over and mess around some more, and now he doesn't even want to leave his dorm. Maybe he should talk to Tom, he thinks, and then buries the thought deep. Bad plan. Tom would tell him to go to HR, and that's a road that loops right back around to James being fired.

He should definitely talk to Barney, though... Maybe after his trip. He and Gordon are supposed to be flying out here in a little bit, and James doesn't want to freak his buddy out right before his flight leaves. Knowing Barney, he's doing plenty of panicking already, at this point.

Maksim doesn't bother him that week, just gives him space. James wishes he wouldn't. He doesn't know what he wants, sure, but it can't be this loneliness. He spends the week by himself, eating lunches alone, not doing much of anything besides working.

His mom calls on Friday while he's at lunch, and James strongly considers ignoring it--but she'll just call back until he picks up. He swallows his food and answers.

"Hey."

"...Is this James?"

"Mhm."

"That's how you answer the phone when your mother calls?" When he doesn't respond, she sighs. "Alright, I'll get to the point. I need you to come visit for a few days. We're going to be there from the fifth to the eleventh, so if you want to fly in on the sixth..."

"Why," James interrupts, and his mom sounds irritated when she responds.

"Because your nanna is dying, and I don't want you to have regrets after she goes." James rolls his eyes. "And your dad's back in town. I want you to come see him. Who knows, he might give you a job at his startup."

"Have a job."

"That security gig? I thought that was temporary. Look, Jimmy, your dad's doing some big things for the US military right now, I don't want you to miss this chance..."

"I like my job."

"Just come talk to Al, okay? Tom already said you could stay at his place, with him and his business partner; you spend a few nights there, we'll drive out to meet you guys..."

"Don't wanna."

"Your dad's willing to write us back into the will, Jimmy." Ah, there it is. "But he's not gonna do it for nothing. You come back home for a bit, he might just put your name on there, give you a nice cushy job... You'd like that, real easy work, you don't need a degree, or to do much of anything."

"Don't wanna," he insists.

"So you're going to let me go to my grave a pauper? That's it? You don't care about your mother?" He groans, covering his eyes. "Jimmy, sweetie, I'm doing this for you too. I want you to have a safe, secure future. You don't want to work as a guard your whole life, right? I know you don't have any friends out there. Al will get you a desk job, honey. With salary. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah."

"It means you'd make a lot of money, every year, no matter how much you slacked off. Come on. Don't you wanna see your family one more time, before gran's gone?" No. He'd like to see Tom and Josh, sure, but...

"I don't know," he mumbles, and she spots the weakness and digs in.

"I know you're probably worried about Tom, him and his friend there, Joshua... But you've got nothing to worry about. Hell, Al will probably give you his share. He doesn't really agree with the BLTG thing."

"I don't want to go," he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

"Go request the time off. Okay? We'll see you in a couple weeks." She hangs up, and James huffs, setting his phone down hard. He looks up and blinks, almost startled to see Maksim standing there with a tray.

"...Hey," James says, as the Russian pulls out a chair to sit down.

"Hey," Maksim echoes. It feels awkward as hell, James thinks, until Maksim speaks again. "You are avoiding me?"

"Wha--no," James lies.

"You said you would come over, then you didn't..."

"That's not you," James insists, "I just... I'm in trouble with some of the guards."

"You shouldn't worry about that? You are in trouble with Maksim as well?"

James blushes, looking away. "I wanted to come over," he says softly. "I still want to."

"What stopped you?" Maksim asks, picking at his salad, eyes flickering to James.

"There's... a guard who's trying to get me fired. He has a security video of me starting a fight... He didn't want me to be around you."

"You are afraid of this man?"

"I--" James starts, and then shuts his mouth, shrugs. Yes. He's afraid of Eric. "No, not really." He feels Maksim's dress shoe press against his ankle and slide up his leg.

"If he tries anything, I will tear off his balls for you. Okay? No more problem," Maksim says, as if it's anywhere near that simple. "Come to my dorm tonight. Okay?"

"...Okay," James relents. Maksim smiles at him, pulling his foot away.

"Good boy."

---

After his shift, James heads for the level 3 topside dormitories, per Maksim's texted instructions. He stands outside of dorm room 324 for a few long minutes, tamping down his nerves. Maksim swings the door open as he's fully reconsidering being there, raises an eyebrow at him.

"You are not going to knock?"

"I--I don't know."

"You want to come in?" James swallows and nods, and Maksim steps back to let him enter. His room is clean. Almost alarmingly pristine, and James can't be sure if that's because he's still moving in or what. "Make yourself comfortable," Maksim tells him, and James nods, wandering towards the couch to sit down. The coffee table has a small stack of books on it, most of them in Russian. He has no idea what they are. The TV is unplugged, as is the VCR, he realizes. Looking back towards the bed, so is Maksim's alarm clock. There's nothing on the walls, no photos or posters or anything, no dirty laundry, and almost nothing of interest, besides the stack of guitar cases against the wall, next to an unplugged amplifier.

He's not sure what he expected from Maksim's room, so he can't really feel disappointed. Maybe he'd just hoped to see something that would tell him a little more about the man.

Maksim leans against the back of the couch towards him. "You want to get drunk with me?" he asks, and James considers for a moment, nods slowly. It's Friday, so why not. Maksim steps over into the kitchenette, opens and shuts a cupboard and the freezer, and returns with two small glasses and a bottle of chilled vodka.

Oh, he means drunk drunk.

James takes the glass that Maksim offers him, watches the blonde take a drink, and sips at his own glass. He's a little unsure about this. It would help if he knew what Maksim's intentions were, James thinks, watching him slam back vodka like it's nothing.

Maksim sets his glass down for a moment, rests his arm on the back of the couch and watches him drink. James looks away, trying not to feel too self conscious about having the Russian's green eyes on him, but it's tough. Once again, he finds himself trying to put out vibes, drop some signal that it's okay to move closer and kiss him, but Maksim doesn't move.

"You have holiday plans?" Maksim asks, and James shrugs noncommittally.

"Working." He pauses for a moment. "I'm supposed to fly out and see my family for a week next month."

"Oh, that's good?" Maksim asks, leaning over to pour himself more vodka. James shrugs again. "No? You have family problems?"

James chokes and snorts at the rude question, taking another measured sip of vodka. "Uh. Yeah, kind of." He licks his lips, glancing at the screen of the unplugged TV. "I don't really want to be around my parents, so."

"You want me to come with you?" Maksim jokes, and James laughs, shaking his head. "Why not?"

"That'd be... pretty bad."

"Hm? You think your family would not like that?"

James looks away, smiling to himself, and Maksim prods him with his socked foot. "Hm? I am teasing, you know?"

"I know," James says, finishing off his glass. He licks his lips, glancing back at Maksim. "What about you?"

"Mm, I do not have plans..."

"Maybe we..." James trails off, mouth suddenly dry. "If you're gonna be alone on Christmas, I mean..."

Maksim eyes him over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink. "Okay," he says, despite James not having finished his thought.

"Okay," James repeats, face red.

They sit there for a while, drinking and talking, mostly about work after that. James doesn't get Maksim's job, doesn't know what physicists even do, but he nods, absorbing as much as he can through his buzz as Maksim downs vodka and explains his work.

"You like your job?" James asks him after a bit. Maksim's got his face rested against the backrest of the couch, eyes closed.

"Mm. Yes. Mostly it is good. Some of the scientists here, they are, mm, bastards?"

James laughs. "Doctor Keller," Maksim continues, "he think, my degree is not worth anything, because I studied in Russia. Such bullshit. It was very hard degree to get, too, and I was working whole time..."

"What kind of work?" James asks.

"Por..." Maksim starts to answer, then stops, opens his eyes, and rethinks it. "Ah, it's secret."

"You can tell me," James prompts, and Maksim looks away. "If you want, I mean..."

"I, ah..." A flush creeps over Makim's face, and he focuses on a spot on the wall, smiling faintly. "Do not laugh, okay?"

"I won't."

"When I was younger, probably... right before I graduated high school, I had to make some money, so..."

"How old are you now," James interrupts, and Maksim glances at him.

"Thirty one," he says.

"So what kind of work did you do," James prompts, when Maksim falls silent again. The Russian licks his lips, eyes on the couch cushion between the two of them.

"I needed fast money, to graduate high school, get into university... So, ah. I made some connections and, mm. I was in some pornografiya."

James stares at him for a moment, making sure he heard right. Maksim laughs breathily, nervously.

"You think it's weird?" Maksim asks after a minute, and James shakes his head quickly.

"No, I mean..." He's just thinking hard. Trying to imagine it: Maksim but younger, on camera...

Actually, it's really hot to think about. James shifts slightly on the couch, eyeing him, trying again to produce the vibes that say come closer, come kiss me.

Maksim's waiting for him to continue, he realizes, and sputters out, "I think it's kinda hot."

The Russian blinks, and then his lips twitch into a smirk. "You want to see, maybe?

"Yes," James says quickly, without stopping to think about it. Maksim nods, stands up off the couch, and walks over to his closet to open it and pull out a box. James cranes his neck, watching him dig through documents and envelopes and stacks of photographs to get to the VHS tapes on the bottom.

Maksim plugs in the VCR and TV, pops in the tape, dims the lights and sits back down beside him, feet drawn up on the cushion. James watches him for a minute, then flickers his gaze to the TV screen as the video comes on.

There's a man offscreen, speaking in Russian, but the camera is pointed at the young man on the edge of the bed. He's fidgeting, James sees, picking at his pant leg and looking around the room. His hair is shorter, neater, but his eyes are the same.

"Menya zovut Maksim Ildarova," he says, the answer to a question James didn't understand. He and the man offscreen converse for a few minutes, and then a door opens and another man walks in, stopping beside young Maksim. He's muscular, and naked and hard, and says something to Maksim, whose eyes flicker upwards.

He leans forward, eyelashes fluttering closed as he licks up the underside of the other man's cock, takes the tip into his mouth. James' breath catches in his throat, and he shoots a glance sideways at Maksim, next to him on the couch. The blonde returns the eye contact, gaze unwavering.

James alternates between watching the tape and watching Maksim, who scoots closer to him, draping an arm over the back of the couch. He leans in to kiss James and slips a hand into his pants, grasping his dick and drawing a groan out of the guard.

On the TV, the younger Maksim is being face fucked, none too gently, and James watches out of the corner of his eye as he whines and sucks. The man cums in his throat, leaving him a teary eyed mess, and then maneuvers him back onto the bed, pulling his pants off. He grabs Maksim by the hips, pulling him right up to the edge of the bed and rubbing circles into his sides.

Beside him, Maksim crawls off the couch to kneel in front of James, pops open his fly to start sucking him off. James groans, resting a hand atop his head, gripping his hair as the man on the TV thrusts into Maksim without much fanfare, and the young man cries out, mouth open wide.

"Vam eto nravitsya?" The Russian man asks, and Maksim nods wordlessly as he's fucked into the mattress. James tightens his grip on his hair, eyes on the younger Maksim's face.

"Da... Bol'she pozhaluysta," the blonde groans, and the man fucking him slaps his ass, pounds into him harder.

"James," Maksim calls from between his knees, and James tears his eyes away to look at him. He kisses the head of James' cock, then climbs back up into his lap, pushing his own pants down to frot against him and jack them off together. James grabs the front of Maksim's shirt, pulling him closer to kiss him again, as the younger Maksim's cries on the TV become desperate and pleading, needy.

"You wanna fuck me?" Maksim asks when he pulls away, and James nods, kissing at his neck instead. Maksim pulls back again, and James can't see his face in the dark, only a soft halo of light around his edges from the glow of the TV. "Come fuck me."

He climbs off James lap and heads for his bed. James cranes his neck to look at him, glances at the TV once more, and then stands and follows. His heart is pounding with anxiety but he's so turned on as he approaches the bed, where Maksim is kicking off his pants.

James stops to shove his jeans down and kick them aside before crawling onto the bed to kiss Maksim again, hungrily. He barely notices Maksim reaching over for something on his nightstand, only realizes what Maksim is doing when the slick noise draws his attention between the other man's legs. Fuck, he thinks, watching Maksim massage himself with lube slicked fingers, they're really going to do this, aren't they? Is that--okay? Does that count as being used? Maksim presses a finger into himself wetly and James watches, breathing shallow, as he rubs it inside his ass.

Maksim is quick about it, impatient to get on with it. James watches in fascination as he scissors his fingers inside himself, spreading his ass to prepare for James.

When he's sufficiently ready, he pulls his fingers out and picks up the bottle of lube again, rubs some more over his asshole, then hands it off to James to let him lube up his cock. James pumps himself a couple of times, crawling forward at Maksim's coaxing. He lifts the Russian's thighs, pressing them up out of the way as he guides his dick towards Maksim's waiting hole.

He presses in slowly, but after an inch or so, feels himself being drawn in quickly. "Fuck," James gasps, hands going to Maksim's hips to hold onto him. "S-sorry."

Maksim reaches for him and James leans over to let the scientist kiss him. "I've never done this," James admits when he pulls away. "I don't... know. I don't want to hurt you."

Maksim smirks at him, wraps his legs around James' waist and rolls them over, with some effort. James groans as Maksim inadvertently takes him in deeper.

"Aaah, good boy, Jamie malchik," Maksim sighs, starting to ride him. James groans and whines, grabbing back onto his hips to try and still him.

"I'm--I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Then we do it again. Okay? As much as you like."

James shivers and nods, biting back another moan. Maksim starts to move, lifting his hips and lowering them again rhythmically, rubbing James' bare chest.

He doesn't last very long, cums bucking his hips up against Maksim's steady riding, moaning low and loud. Maksim keeps moving for a minute, jerking himself hard, and cums across James' chest. As he comes down from his orgasm, he leans forward to kiss James again, and let's James roll them back over without a fuss.

"Can I--"

"You can do whatever you want," Maksim says, and James nods, starting to rock into him again. He glances down between them at where his cock is sliding in and out of Maksim and groans, grabbing his hips hard to fuck him again.

The evening turns into a blur of sweat and skin. They rest occasionally, pulling apart to kiss and catch their collective breath and regain their energy, and then start up again. James is vaguely aware that he's acting like a teenager, a sex pest--so what? So he's never gotten to do this before, so he wants to do it a lot. Maksim's game for it, goading him on, edging him off, sucking hickeys into his neck between rounds.

It's got to be after midnight when they wrap things up. Maksim sinks forward against the back of the couch where they've ended up, legs spread and shaking, as James starts to pull out of him.

It's probably a good thing that it's Friday night, James realizes, watching Maksim try to hide his limp. Maksim makes it back to his bed and collapses, groaning softly. He hesitates when the Russian beckons him over, then comes closer.

"You had fun?" Maksim asks, and James nods, ducking his head to kiss him. "Good, good," Maksim murmurs.

James watches Maksim as he closes his eyes. "You should take a shower," he points out, and Maksim shrugs him off.

"Tired..."

James watches him for a bit longer, unsure of what to do with himself. He should go back to his dorm, probably. Maksim seems to be asleep anyway.

"You should stay tonight?" Maksim says, lifting his head and blinking his eyes open. "It is late, the tram..."

James nods, perhaps a little too eagerly. "We can shower in a minute," Maksim says, laying his head back down. "Just a minute."

James isn't sure what to think anymore, he realizes later that night, lying awake in Maksim's bed. He's pretty sure they've far overstepped the bounds of friendship. They aren't dating though, that much is clear...

He glances at Maksim in the dark, his sleeping face. He's no longer sure how to feel, either. There's a heavy weight coiled in his stomach, and he's scared to admit it, and unsure if it's true anyway, but... He thinks he might like Maksim. Maybe it's his dick talking, he's quick to tell himself, because he doesn't even know Maksim that well, and Maksim barely knows him at all, and that brings him right back around to why he's even being given the time of day--

Because Maksim wants to get his dick wet. That's all.

He sighs, turning to look up at the dark ceiling. Knowing that doesn't make him feel any better. He wants to talk to Barney about it, but his flight's not coming in until tomorrow afternoon, and he's not about to text him all upset in the middle of the night and make him worry.

James rolls over and tries to sleep.

---

He wakes up late in the morning, tired and sore. His head is pounding. James pushes himself up onto his elbows, looking blearily over at Maksim, who's watching him.

"Hey," he says, and Maksim turns his head to hide a smile. He must have already showered; his hair is wet.

"You were snoring."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's cute," Maksim says, scooting closer to kiss him. James allows himself to be rolled onto his back, suddenly aware of how sticky and sweaty he is. He's also got morning wood, he realizes, though Maksim apparently hasn't noticed yet.

"Do you mind if I use your shower," he asks, when Maksim lets him come up to breathe.

"Hm? Go ahead?" James nods, starting to scoot out of bed when Maksim speaks again. "You want help with that?"

He pauses, glancing back at Maksim, and nods.

They end up in the shower, hot water beating down around them as James presses Maksim into the wall, cock sliding in and out of him again. He should be cleaning up so he can head back to his dorm... Instead James presses his face into Maksim's neck, breathing hard as he nears the edge.

"You gonna cum for me?" Maksim asks, and James nods, eyes squeezed shut. "Cum for me then."

Ah, fuck. James gasps and whines, hips stuttering to a halt as he finishes. Maksim grins at him and reaches out shakily to pull him in for a kiss.

They wash up in silence, passing a bar of soap back and forth. Maksim climbs out of the shower first and wanders out of the bathroom, toweling at his hair and leaving James to think and fret. The maneuvers they're making are too risky. Someone's going to end up hurt, and he has a feeling that someone will be him.

Eventually, he steps out of the shower and dries off with the towel Maksim offers him, leaving it draped around his neck to collect the water dripping from his hair. He redresses in yesterday's underwear and uniform, becoming steadily more aware that he's going to have to go back through the guard dorms like this--

Well, whatever. No one will notice.

"You want me to walk you back?" Maksim offers, and James quickly shakes his head. He doesn't need that kind of attention. Maksim hops off the couch to see him to the door, stopping James before he can step out into the hall.

"Let's do this again, okay?" Maksim asks, and then pulls him down into a kiss. James nods dumbly, stammers something he himself doesn't hear, and hurries in the direction of the tram system.

He gets why they call it a walk of shame now, because it feels bad, sitting on the tram to the guard dorms, wearing dirty clothes, overthinking last night. There's another off-duty guard on the tram, eyeing him curiously from the opposite end. James pretends to be very focused on his phone.

Inside the guard dorms, it's quiet. No one's hanging out in the rec room, playing pool or throwing darts. Still, he hustles from the entrance to his room, jamming his key in the lock to let himself in.

"Welk," Eric calls from down the hall, sounding none too pleased. James swallows, not looking up from the doorknob as he flips his key over to try it the other way. "I'm talking to you," Eric informs him, grabbing him by the arm as he swings the door open. Graham is just a few steps behind, helps Eric shove James into his dorm room.

Calm down, Barney's voice says in his mind. You're a big guy, don't forget that. They can't hurt you.

"Where've you been," Eric asks, and Graham gives a little huff, either amused or annoyed.

"Out," James says, watching Graham look around his room.

"You know, you've gotta explain something to me," Eric says. James looks away. "Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you. I told you I wouldn't tolerate shit like this in my dorms, didn't I?"

"I didn't do anything in your dorms," James says softly, struggling to look him in the eye.

"No, but you think it's alright to make your little faggot walk of shame through here?"

"I was just--"

"Don't try to make shit up, Welk, Adam saw you go into that Russian's dorm last night, and you're just now getting back. We can all put two and two together."

"Why do you care," James asks, struggling to decide whether he wants to cry or punch him. Maybe both. Eric scowls, arms crossed.

"It's revolting. I told you before, I don't want you here if you're going to do shit like this. You remember that camera footage? I can have HR pull that any time. Yeah. You don't like the sounds of that, huh?" A pause. "Answer me when I'm talking to you."

"No."

"No, what?" Eric snaps, and Graham gives a little snort, smiling as he eyes James' gaming systems. James swallows, feeling nauseous.

"No sir." Graham laughs sharply, and Eric looks pleased.

"Good. Then fucking keep it out of my facility, got it?"

"Okay."

"What was that?"

"Yes sir."

Eric sweeps out of his room then, but Graham lingers, still eyeing James' Playstation. "Hey, no hard feelings," he says. "Just stop fucking around on the premises." James nods, and Graham steps out of his room, nodding to Barney as he passes by him in the hall.

"Why were they in your room," Barney asks nervously, stepping through the open door.

"S'nothing."

"You don't have to lie to me. Are they still bothering you?" Barney shuts the door behind himself, watching James sink down into the center of his couch. "Hey..."

"I think I like Maksim," James croaks, and Barney pauses midway to the couch, turns to grab them a couple of beers for brunch instead. "I think... I don't think he likes me back."

"Okay," Barney says carefully, setting a beer in front of James on the coffee table. "Why do you think that?"

"I think he's just..." James trails off, picking up the offered beer to crack it open and take a drink. "I think it's just physical."

"Did he say that?" Barney asks, and he shakes his head, swallowing hard. "Did he say anything one way or the other?"

"No."

"Okay, well, you said before that you're experimenting, so--"

"We had sex," James admits, rubbing at his face. "Last night." A lot.

"Oh. And you didn't ask him?"

"No..."

Barney sighs, reaching over to pat his shoulder, rub his back. "It's alright."

"I think I like him, but he's just... I don't think he'd like me back."

"You should ask him," Barney says, and sighs when James shakes his head fervently. "Okay, then what're you gonna do? If you're this torn up over not knowing, what're you gonna do, not fool around with him anymore?' James purses his lips, considering, and shakes his head again. "No, what? No you're not gonna fool around anymore, or no you'll keep doing it?"

James doesn't answer for a minute. He speaks up again, quietly. "I don't wanna stop. I like him."

"Alright, well, you gotta talk to him then. Yes, you do," Barney presses, when James whines and shakes his head. "You're gonna end up hurt if you don't."

"It doesn't--"

"Don't say it doesn't matter," Barney says firmly. "Look, I don't want you going through what I went through, letting guys use you... It sucks, alright? You know it sucks."

"I don't know what to do," James admits.

"Well, first of all, you're gonna have to have a conversation with him. Tell him you wanna know where you stand--hell, ask him out. Go to the movies or something." James is silent for a minute, and Barney continues, "the absolute worst thing he can say is no, and then you know where you stand."

Barney lets him sit in silence for a few minutes, then picks up his phone off the coffee table and hands it to him. "Call him. Or text him, whatever. Say you wanna go out."

"It's too soon."

"Not too soon to fuck him though?" James looks away again, scowling. "Look, either you ask him out real nice and easy, or you gotta have an uncomfortable talk about boundaries and expectations and shit with a guy you're not even dating."

James huffs, pulling up his texts and opening his conversation with Maksim, then sits there, doing nothing. Barney watches him, nudging him with his foot every once in a while.

"Just say "hey, we should go out this week.""

"Nn..."

"You want me to do it for you?" Barney half-jokes, and James looks over at him, seriously considering. "No, I'm not gonna, you have to talk to him."

James scowls again, tapping out a message. He hands his phone over to Barney to read it over, and Barney sighs and presses send for him.

"Wha--why did you send it?!"

"So you can't pussy out."

James shoves at his shoulder and Barney rolls his eyes. "You wanna hear about my trip or what?"

"...Yeah."

"So I met Gordon's parents..."

When Barney's finally finished telling him about Seattle, and the Freemans, and Gordon's insane sex drive, James' phone vibrates. He stares at it, hesitant to pick it up. Barney sighs, leans over and grabs it.

"You wanna read this yourself, or do I have to read it for you?"

"You do it."

Barney taps open James' texts, stares at the screen for a long moment. "Alright, you gotta tell me what the hell this is," he says, handing the phone over. James takes it from him, blinks, and tries not to smile.

Maksim: ((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)) Jamie malchik!

"Seriously, what is it," Barney laughs, elbowing him.

"It's a face," James says, hiding a grin behind his hand as another text comes through.

Maksim: Yes of course, you want to go tomorrow, or next weekend?

"Tomorrow," Barney says, and James nods, texting back.

Maksim: Then I'll see you tomorrow at noon, okay? ( ƅ°ਉ°)ƅ

"What the fuck," Barney laughs, standing up from his couch. "Alright, you got a date. Happy?"

James nods, and he grins down at him. "Okay, well, you got to dress me up like a dumb little homosexual cowboy, I'm gonna return the favor." He crosses the room to James' closet to start digging through it. James stands, coming closer to watch.

"Seriously, where's your... you know, your cowboy boots and stuff? Western shirts?"

"I don't have any."

"What?"

"I don't have boots or anything." Barney turns to stare at him and James shrugs.

"You make me dress like that for all my dates, and you don't even have any cowboy clothes?!"

"Didn't want people to know I was gay." James chuckles as Barney grabs a shirt off its hanger and throws it at him. "Hey, you should get a cowboy hat," James jokes, and Barney flings a pair of boxers at him without looking, picking through his clothes to find something nice.

"So uh, me and Gordon," Barney says as he's picking between shirts, "we're supposed to go back out there for uh... Christmas."

"Yeah?" James asks, and Barney nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh, I'm kind of..."

"On edge?"

"Well, I don't know about that." He pauses, putting both the shirts he's holding back. "Yeah, a little bit, maybe."

"Does Gordon know?"

"No, God no," Barney laughs. "I don't wanna submit him to more of my shit--just... God, it's hard to get into, you know?" He chuckles again, dryly. "Gordon wanted me to try therapy, but fuck... Like I need some professional peeling my brain apart. Right?"

James nods, and Barney glances back at where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. "Alright, c'mere," Barney says. "You're gonna have to try some of this shit on."

They drink and laugh and Barney keeps picking out different and increasingly worse outfits, and they're both pretty drunk by the time Barney taps out and heads back to his room. James kicks a small pile of shirts and hangers off his bed to climb in, sets an alarm for ten the next morning, and dozes off.

He wakes up hungover and nauseous, slams a hand down on his alarm clock to make it stop screeching at him, and rolls over to try to get a little more sleep. He should get up, and he's aware of that, but his head is pounding, and his stomach feels like it's trying to turn inside out. He finally staggers out of bed close to eleven, makes it to the bathroom just in time to throw up, then lays on the floor by the toilet for a while, cursing himself.

James eventually drags himself into the shower to clean up, then spends a few minutes scrubbing the bad taste out of his mouth. He steps out of the bathroom at a quarter to noon, looks over the pile of clothes on his floor, and sighs. They never did figure out what he was supposed to wear, so he opts for a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt under a jacket, grabs his boots by the door to pull them on, and heads out.

He still kind of feels like shit, physically. Mentally, he's cussing out Barney for getting him drunk. The two of them are a lot alike, he's realized: doormats who push each other to be braver, who both think they have a higher alcohol tolerance than they do. It's a damn good thing he didn't drink much vodka the other night, or he would've been too sick to do anything.

Maksim's waiting for him at the tram, and James settles into the seat beside him, looking him over. He's got on a red t-shirt under a leather bomber jacket with a fuzzy collar, ripped and faded jeans that fit snugly against his legs, and leather boots. He's got his mullet pulled up into a ponytail, and he eyes James back, smiling.

"You hungry?" he asks, and James shrugs. He doesn't feel much like eating right now.

"Maybe."

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No..."

"Then let's eat?" Maksim elbows him lightly, and James nods. The tram is nearing the surface, and bright November sunlight streams in, illuminating the tram. Maksim is looking ahead at the sunny desert coming up ahead of them, and James takes a minute to just watch him, the way the sunshine lights up his dirty blonde hair, makes his eyes shine. He really is good looking. Probably too good looking for James, but...

"Do you come out much?" Maksim asks, and he shakes his head. "Hmm? No? Then we will have fun, okay?"

Maksim leads the way off the tram, and James trails behind him as they enter the little town outside of Black Mesa. There's not much out here; a gas station, a small motel, a worn down movie theater, a couple of shops and restaurants. More like a pitstop for travelers and employees than anything.

The diner Maksim leads him into is pretty packed. A waitress greets them and leads them to a booth near the back. James slides into the seat facing the rest of the diner, looking around. He doesn't recognize anyone here, but that's not saying much. It's not like he knows everyone who works at Black Mesa.

"What can I get you boys?" the waitress asks when she swings by their table, setting down a pair of water glasses. Maksim's eyes are still on the menu, so James orders--coffee, French toast with sausage links and scrambled eggs.

"Coffee and toast," Maksim says, and hands her back the menu. The waitress sweeps away, and Maksim rests his elbow on the table, chin in his hand to watch James, who squirms a bit under his gaze. "You look cute? Cutie Jamie."

James shushes him as the waitress brings them coffees, and Maksim snickers. "You are so shy!"

James flushes, fixing up his drink. Maksim takes a long drink of his coffee, black.

"Please don't... tease me, here," James mumbles, ducking his head. His face feels so warm.

"Ah, you are embarrassed? Okay." Maksim grins at him. James looks away, too nervous to hold his gaze, and takes a sip of his coffee. "After we eat, you want to go see a movie?"

"I thought we were just doing breakfast," James says.

"Ah, but it is not much of a date, is it?"

James' face burns. "I don't know," he admits, "I don't... I haven't--gone out before."

"You've never been on a date?" Maksim asks, eyeing him with amusement. James shakes his head. "It's okay, you are still just a little boy. I can be your first then."

"I'm twenty five," James protests.

"Yes? And I said, you are little."

The waitress comes by to refill their coffees, tells them their food will be out shortly. Maksim thanks her, and James excuses himself to go use the bathroom. He glances at himself in the mirror as he's washing his hands, examines his stubble for a minute. He has no way to gauge how this is going. At least he doesn't feel like throwing up anymore.

He leaves the bathroom to head back to their booth and finds Graham standing there, talking to Maksim. James freezes. Maksim's face is calm, smiling serenely up at the guard, and James approaches their booth again cautiously.

"...only going to make it worse for you both," Graham is saying, and Maksim shrugs.

"Sorry, I don't speak English? I don't understand," Maksim says, in near perfect English, and Graham huffs and turns to stalk back to his table, shouldering James out of his way as he reaches the booth.

"Hiiii," Maksim says, as James slides back into the booth.

"What was... what did Graham say to you, just now?"

"Hm? Oh, the guy. I don't know, my English is not always so good?" He shrugs, as the waitress swings by to set their food down on the table.

"...Seriously, what did he say," James asks, and Maksim shrugs again.

"Eat your breakfast?"

He does, but not because Maksim told him to. He just happens to be hungry. Maksim watches him, smiling and nibbling at his toast as James tears into his breakfast. He doesn't really like that Maksim's hiding something from him, especially something having to do with Graham, but whatever. He'll probably hear about it from Eric later anyway.

"You are so hungry," Maksim says, when they've sat in silence for almost ten minutes. James looks up from his plate, chewing. "I am curious. Okay? Do not tell me if you do not want, but... Why are you so quiet?"

James swallows, picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth. "Horse trauma."

"What?" Maksim gasps, eyes going wide. "Did it kick you in the head?"

"Nope," James says, and Maksim seems to relax a bit. He doesn't elaborate further, though, just returns attention to his food.

He eats until he's starting to feel nauseous again, and Maksim eats his toast and watches happily. James sits back in the booth, sipping water, as Maksim handles the check. He looks up at an insistent tapping on the window. Eric and Graham are on the other side of the glass, eyeing him with distaste. Eric crooks his finger at James, gesturing for him to come here.

James glances over at Maksim, standing at the till to pay, and Eric knocks on the window again, crooks his finger once and points at the ground in front of him. James nods, sliding out of the booth to stand and head for the exit.

"Jamie malchik?" Maksim calls after him as he passes him by, and James glances back at him, pushing open the door. The bell over the entrance jingles at him as he steps out into the daylight, heads around the corner of the building to where Eric and Graham are waiting.

"So explain something to me," Eric says, and James nods. "When I told you I wanted this to stop, you heard...? "Keep going, and do it in public?' I just want to understand what the fuck you think you're doing." He pauses, gives James a chance to respond, which he does not take. "Answer me."

"I--"

"Jamie?" Maksim calls from behind him, and James winces. He'd hoped he would stay in the restaurant, but there he is.

"Good, you're here too," Eric says. "Get over here." Maksim strides forward, boots sounding heavy on the sidewalk. "Now I've told him. I've told him a good number of times to knock this shit off. You, you're new, so maybe no one's said shit to you about this fag shit yet--"

Maksim doesn't let him finish, just throws a punch into his jaw. Eric yelps, clutching his chin, and Graham jumps back. Maksim shakes his fist lightly, looking unconcerned.

"You should not say that? Stupid."

Graham kind of snorts, amused, as Eric straightens up and swings at Maksim. Maksim dodges, and they grapple with one another a moment, until Maksim shoves Eric back.

"You gonna do something, Welk, or just let your bitch fight for you?!" Eric yells, and James glances between him, Graham, and Maksim in uncertainty.

"Zatknis idiot," Maksim laughs, shoving Eric back into the brick when he tries to approach again. "You are stupid, mmm, sad little man? Get over it." Eric snarls and charges, tackling Maksim into the sidewalk, and James only manages to take half a step towards them before Maksim rolls them over and pins Eric and punches him in the face again as Eric claws at him.

"C'mon now," Graham says coolly, looking very amused by this turn of events. James isn't sure what to do with himself when Maksim seems to have it so well handled.

Eric manages to throw a punch that clips Maksim in the jaw and crows about it, kicking at him. Maksim grunts when a well aimed kick (or perhaps just a lucky flail) hits him in the groin, and Eric throws him off. He clambers to his feet, panting and standing over Maksim as James kneels to help him up. He wipes at his face, looking thrilled to discover that his lip is bleeding, holds out his fist to show Graham. "You freaks are out of here," he hisses. "You made me bleed."

"Boohoo," Maksim snaps at him.

"You moron, I've got proof. Proof that you attacked me."

"Wah," Maksim follows up. Graham chuckles, shaking his head.

"You'd be smart not to show your fucking face around the dorms for a bit," Eric tells James. "Hell, if you're feeling really clever, you'll get on a bus and get the fuck out of here. Both of you."

"Such jealous little man," Maksim sighs, and Eric lunges at him again, Graham holding him back.

"C'mon, Eric," Graham says, "you can go to HR when we get back. Don't blow your shot." He glances at James, jerks his head towards the street. Go on.

"Yes, do not blow your load, stupid," Maksim calls over his shoulder as James hurries him away. Eric yells curses after them.

"This man pisses me off," Maksim informs James when they're a safe distance away, nearing the theater.

"Sorry."

"You put up with him? Why."

James stammers, looks away. "He's tenured," he mutters, and Maksim shakes his head.

"Jamie, cutie Jamie, you let these men take advantage of you... Why do you not go to HR, hm?"

James hesitates. "I punched him in the face before," he starts.

"Good," Maksim praises him, looking smug.

"On camera. He has video of it, so..."

Maksim sighs, and he seems suddenly irritated. "Sorry," James says again, and Maksim bumps their hands together.

"Don't be sorry. Okay? I take care of it for you later."

"Don't... fight him."

"No, no. Of course not. I will do psychological warfare." James tries not to smile, and Maksim elbows him. "You do not put up with this shit anymore, understand? Maksim takes care of it."

"Okay," James murmurs, even though he doesn't quite believe it.

---

Sure enough, when he goes to punch in Monday morning, there's a note telling him to report to human resources. James sighs, staring at it for a long time, then stuffs the piece of paper in his pocket and heads off to do so.

He's let in to speak with the head of HR, who has him sit down. "I assume you know what this is about," she starts, and James nods. She nods too, continuing. "Eric Davison came forward about a physical altercation you two had yesterday in town, and in the guard dorms before that... Obviously, we can't enforce anything that happens off company property and off the clock, but we were able to pull camera footage of the dormitories."

James nods, feeling shaky. Tingly. Like he's not in his body. "You do understand that Black Mesa can't tolerate physical acts of violence or bullying," she says, and James nods again, slowly. He's about to be fired. He can feel it coming. "Do you have anything to say?"

"No ma'am," he croaks, throat dry.

She nods, slides some papers over to him. He can't make his eyes focus to read it. "We're willing to let this go with a warning this time. Your supervisor really vouched for you." Shit, he owes the boss a coffee later. Maybe a whole case of beer. "But any further complaints and we will have to take strict disciplinary action, up to and including termination."

"Yes ma'am."

"I do need you to sign some things," she continues, and shows him where to sign for the disciplinary warning letter and performance plan documents. She leaves to make copies, and James sinks into his seat, feeling like shit. He should say something. He should say Eric has been bullying me, not the other way around. Barney would tell him to speak up.

He can't.

Instead he thanks her quietly when she brings him the copied forms, and hurries to get to his shift. He's scheduled for anomalous materials today, lower level, and he should be happy for that, excited even, but being sent to HR has really put a damper on that feeling.

Maksim looks up when he takes his post outside the lab, comes over to talk to him. "What happened?" he asks, and James shrugs, hands over the performance plan and the disciplinary letter. Maksim scowls.

"You did not say anything to them?"

"Like what."

"That this "Eric" is harassing you? That he is homophobe?"

James shrugs again, avoiding eye contact. "Why are you afraid of this man," Maksim asks, and he shakes his head. Maksim huffs. "If you will not do something, I will."

"Please drop it."

"No."

James scowls, eyes on his boots as Maksim heads back to his desk. The day passes slowly. He eats lunch with Barney, who eyes him and tells him "we gotta talk later," and Gordon, who doesn't seem to know anything about what's going on. Maksim doesn't leave the lab for his break, and James doesn't go back to anomalous materials after lunch. He and Barney are headed down to residue processing for some maintenance work.

"So Eric tattled on you," Barney says, when they're alone and headed to their next station. James shrugs.

"Doesn't matter."

"Don't say that. You don't wanna get fired, I get it." James nods, purses his lips together. Barney watches him for a minute, sighs and pats his shoulder. Whatever he'd been planning to say, he seems to have lost the drive to say it. "He's got a lot of guards on his side," Barney continues. "Don't let them give you a hard time, okay?"

James nods, and they turn a corner. Barney punches in a keycode to let them into the next room.

To no one's surprise, the next week is rough. The guards that will acknowledge James at all are hostile, on edge. He doesn't care, he reminds himself. He's supposed to fly out to go visit his family over the weekend, and he'll be gone all next week and come back and things will be fine. Everyone will have moved on.

James sits down at lunch on Friday, at the table where Gordon is waiting for him. Barney's not there yet. Gordon smiles and gives his little wave of <hello,> and immediately flips open his notepad to a big block of text that he pushes over to James. James glances at him and picks up the notepad to squint at his neat handwriting.

I understand that you're trying to deal with this subtly, and not cause too many waves, and I respect that--James glances up at Gordon again, nervous suddenly--but I am worried about Doctor Ildarova. Uh oh!

I think he's incredibly stressed and quickly burning out, especially with how the guards are treating him. You should know that he doesn't handle stress well. He hasn't been eating lunches because he's working through his breaks, and he seems hesitant to leave the lab. I understand that this isn't your intention or your fault, but I do think it is a direct result of things having gone on for this long. Barney doesn't want me to intervene, and I'm sure you don't either, but it's not fair to you or Maksim or any of us for this to keep going. Either you need to do something, or I will.

James nods, handing the notepad back over, feeling sufficiently scolded. Gordon flips it shut and stashes it away, picking up his sandwich.

"Sorry," James murmurs, and Gordon pauses, nods, and takes a bite. "I'll... I'll do something," James continues, even though he has no idea what he's supposed to do. He kind of lost his shot at doing anything when he nodded and yes ma'amed his way through the conversation with HR.

Gordon nods again as Barney sits down. "Hey baby," he says, and Gordon beams at him. He turns to James. "You excited for your trip?"

"No."

"Alright, too bad. You gotta tell Tom and Josh we say hi, okay?"

James nods. "Don't let your ma push you around either," Barney continues, and James kicks him lightly under the table.

James heads straight for his dorm after work to finish packing, then sits down on his bed with his phone and stares at it, willing it to ring. It does no such thing. Eventually, he relents and dials Maksim himself, listening to it ring in his ear.

"Da, eto Ildarova..?" He sounds tired, like he's been woken up.

James swallows hard. "Hey. Uh. It's James."

"Hiiii, cutie Jamie."

"Hey," James breathes. "I, um. I talked to Gordon today."

"Mhmmm?"

"He said... said you're really stressed."

Maksim sighs on the other line. "Mm. Well. A little."

"He said you're not taking breaks or lunches--"

"Many people work hard, do not go to lunch! It is American portion sizes, American meal schedule. I cannot get used to it," Maksim complains. James chews on the inside of his cheek.

"That--" he bites his tongue. "Kinda sounds like bullshit?"

"I am not scared of these guards," Maksim huffs. "Why you are worried, hm? You think I cannot defend myself?"

"No, I think--I'm scared I'm going to come back and you won't be here." James admits. He pushes his hand up through his hair, then drags it down his face. "I don't want you to leave."

"I am not going anywhere," Maksim says softly. "Okay?"

"Okay," James murmurs, closing his eyes.

"You are leaving tomorrow, yes?" Maksim asks, and James nods.

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning."

"But you don't want to go, hm?"

"No..."

"You want me come with you? I would..."

"That wouldn't be a good idea," James mumbles. Maksim is silent for a moment.

"Will you show me where you are going? Send me email so I can see? I want to know you are safe."

James smiles despite himself. "Yeah, uh. I'll email you the Mapquest link."

"Good, good... khoroshiy malchik... I will talk to you tomorrow, okay? Tell me when you land."

"I will."

"Goodnight, cutie Jamie."

---

The highway vanishes beneath Josh's truck, fields of madly waving gold disappearing into the distance behind them. It's been a couple of hours since he left Black Mesa, plenty enough time to regret getting out of bed that morning. He doesn't want to be here. Nevermind that Josh is nice, and that he likes being around Tom. It's the other two that are going to make this trip a nightmare.

"Your dad's been a real peach to be around," Josh says, taking the exit that leads to his and Tom's ranch. "Really great. Hope you're ready for that."

James nods, watching the property rise up in the distance. "Tom would've come and got you," Josh continues, "but I didn't want to be alone with your mom."

James nods again, grimly. No one wants to be alone with her. He's on his phone while Josh drives, checking his texts from Maksim for a reply.

JW: landed

Maksim: Hiiiii cute Jamie, how is Texas?

JW: sucks

Maksim: (っ- ‸ - ς)

JW: just dont want to have to be here alone

Maksim: You want me there?

JW: yeah

JW: lol

Maksim hasn't responded in almost an hour. Not that he's counting, but it's starting to put him on edge. Maksim is the type to reply immediately, not hours later.

...But whatever. They pull up to the house, and Josh helps him grab his suitcase from the backseat of the truck. He seems on edge in a way that James has never seen him. It isn't as if he's spent a lot of time around his brother's husband, but he's usually a little more relaxed.

They head inside, Josh leading the way. "We've got the guest room at the end of the hall set up for you," Josh informs him. "I'm going to go try to make nice with your mom." James nods, heading for the stairs. He makes his way down the second story hallway to the guest room, shuts the door, and falls face-first into the bed.

If he's lucky, he can get away with spending most of the trip in here, doing nothing. Knowing his luck, that's not likely. James sighs into the pillow and rolls onto his back. It's impossible, obviously... for a lot of reasons, but he does kind of wish Maksim was here. Not that he's ready to come out to his mom or anything, and he has no intention of telling Al anything, ever. But it would be nice to have some company.

He pulls out his phone to check his texts again. Still nothing. Maksim is probably busy with work, he knows, it's barely lunch time yet, so there's no reason to be selfish and hope for a text.

Eventually, James heads downstairs and approaches the kitchen. His mom is complaining inside, "I just don't see what's taking him so long up there."

"He's tired from his flight, ma," Tom says. He's at the sink, washing up some dishes. Their mother, Francine, is facing the same direction, hands on her hips. Only Josh takes notice of James as he stops in the doorway.

"It's not that long of a flight," Fran says, and Tom shrugs. "He's always been like that, too, never wants to spend time with us."

"Come on, ma..."

"Hi James," Josh says loudly, and they both turn to look at him in the doorway. James gives a little nod of acknowledgement. "You want something to drink? We've got sweet tea." James nods again as Francine looks him over.

"Jesus Christ, Jimmy, did you stop working out?"

"Ma," Tom hisses.

"I'm not saying it to be hurtful, but good God, honey, you're putting on the pounds."

"Not appropriate," Tom tells her, as Josh prepares a drink for James.

"Come sit down," Josh says, and James forces himself to take a step forward, into the kitchen.

"You could at least say hi to me," Francine says, and James nods, picking up his glass.

"Hi ma."

"Is that so hard?"

"Leave him alone, ma," Tom says insistently, and Fran huffs, leaning against the counter.

"Your dad's in the other room," she says, and James turns away to grimace. "He's got a job offer for you."

"James has a good career," Tom says pointedly, and Fran huffs, rolling her eyes.

"The security gig is temporary, Tom. Jimmy. Come." She beckons for him to follow and James sighs, picking up his sweet tea to trail after her. He can hear Josh and Tom behind him, conversing in urgent voices, too quiet to make anything out--and then Josh hurries after him for moral support.

Tom and Josh's living room is nicely decorated, homely. There's a cowhide over the back of the couch, and a fireplace, and a handful of tasteful framed photos. Al is seated in the recliner to the left of the couch, feet propped up as he watches football.

The ref makes a bad call as James settles into the middle of the couch, Fran between him and his father. Josh perches on the loveseat to James' right, watching silently. "Fucking dumbass," Al scoffs, then glances over at his son. "Damn. You got big, boy."

James looks away, lip curling. He doesn't like this man. Fran clears her throat. "Al, you said you had an opening at your company, and Jimmy here is looking for a new job..."

Al scoffs. "This one? Franny, maybe you don't remember, but we used to have to sign his report cards every month."

"Yes, I remember, but he's very capable--"

"Somethin wrong with him, I'm sure," Al continues over her.

"Don't want a new job," James says softly, and Fran shoots him a sharp look.

"See? He doesn't want to work for me anyway." Al takes a sip of his beer, returning focus to the TV. James glances at Josh, who gives him a sympathetic look, but says nothing.

He gets it. He wouldn't stand up to Al either.

Tom joins them after a few minutes, settling in next to his husband. Fran makes small talk at Al, who's focused on the TV, and James is temporarily left to his own devices, which include pulling his phone out of his pocket to stare at his text messages. Still nothing. It's working hours, he reminds himself, so Maksim's probably still working on the... whatever it is he works on. The science thing. The beams. It rings while he's staring at the last few messages, and he fumbles, inadvertently hitting speakerphone.

Maksim's heavy accent rings out through the room, as if he's also shouting into his phone. "Hiiiii cute Jamie! I just--"

He hangs up very quickly, but everyone's already looking at him. "Wrong number," he mumbles, and puts his phone on mute before stuffing it back into his pocket. Tom's face breaks out into a grin that he quickly hides, occupying himself with holding his husband's hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

The game on TV goes to commercial, and Al sighs, moving to stand. "I don't wanna see the rest of this bloodbath," he grumbles, heading for the hallway. Fran hops up and follows, leaving James alone with Tom and his husband.

"So," Tom says, and James shakes his head. "Wrong number?"

"Yeah."

"I see." He's still trying not to smile. "And your wrong number knew your name because--"

"Didn't," James grumbles, sinking down into the couch. His face feels warm.

"Okay, sure."

"Don't tease him too much," Josh says, patting Tom on the knee. "I'm going to make sure your lovely parents aren't stealing the nice silverware."

Tom laughs, letting him go. "How's Barney?" he asks, and James shrugs.

"Good. He has a boyfriend."

"Gordon, right? Barney sure seems to love him," Tom says, and James nods. "I oughta give him a call again soon." He stands, stretching. "You make yourself at home, y'hear? Do whatever you want, don't listen to mom or Al."

James nods again, then tilts his head back against the couch. He waits until he's alone again to check his phone.

Missed call from Maksim!

Maksim: The call dropped?

Maksim: Or you are being shy boy... ꉂ (´∀｀)

Maksim: I will see you soon, ok?

It's only for a few days, James reminds himself. Then he can go back to Black Mesa and things can be normal again.

---

"Whose truck is that?" Fran asks. They're all sitting out on the porch, drinking iced tea and making strained, polite conversation attempts when the Ford comes rumbling up the road towards the house.

Al chuckles. "Heh. Probably a friend of yours, huh Tom? Gayass truck like that..."

Tom rolls his eyes. "I don't know anyone who drives a Ford. Probably someone asking for directions. I'll go see what they need."

James is refilling his tea when the door to the vehicle slams, and the driver steps out. "My god, look at that hair," Fran mutters, and he lifts his head slightly to look.

Oh fuck. His vision goes splotchy for a moment, and he staggers, drops the pitcher and the glass, scrambling past Josh off the porch. He charges past Tom and skids to a stop in front of Maksim, who looks at him in amusement.

"Hi, Jamie."

"What are you doing here?" he hisses, heart pounding in his ears.

"Eh? Ah, you told me you want me here, so..."

James just stares at him.

"This is your family?" Maksim asks, looking past him. James steps over to block them from view. "Ah, so shy."

"How did you--get here? How did you even know where to--"

"You show me on Mapquest, remember? Your American street names are so cute."

James whines, rubbing his face. "So you just got on a plane and flew out here?"

"Yes?"

"How... can you afford that?"

"I make good money. This is your brother?" Maksim asks, as Tom approaches them.

"Someone you know, James?" he asks, and James clams up, face too red to make any excuses for.

Maksim looks between the two of them, nods, and addresses Tom. "We are friends, from Black Mesa. Maksim Ildarova."

"Tom Welk," Tom introduces himself, grinning, and they shake hands firmly. "James didn't tell us you were coming for a visit."

"Didn't know," James says softly, meekly. He shrinks in on himself, shoulders slumped, feeling small.

"Well... Let me help you with your bags," Tom says, and busies himself with taking Maksim's suitcase inside, leaving the two of them by the truck. James can feel his parents (and Josh) staring at them from the porch.

They stand in silence for a minute, then James chokes out "I--my family... doesn't know."

"Okay," Maksim says.

"I don't want my parents to know."

"Okay? It's fine, we are just friends here."

James nods, feeling simultaneously like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and like a new one has dropped onto him. He glances back at the porch, where Josh is cleaning up broken glass from the pitcher he dropped. Just let me do the talking, he wants to say, but he knows he'll clam up the second they hit the porch, and that's not going to work at all.

"Relax, Jamie," Maksim says. "You are good boy, yes? I take care of my good boy."

This isn't going to work, James thinks, as they head for the porch. Even if his parents don't immediately clock Maksim as gay and connect the dots... even if Maksim wasn't wearing the heeled boots (and of course he is, of course) it just won't work.

"So who is this?" Fran asks, when they hit the porch steps.

"Work friend," James says, strained. Al is eyeing Maksim, sizing him up.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Fran asks, and James feels his throat go tight. Maksim steps in.

"Doctor Maksim Ildarova. I work at Black Mesa with James."

"Russian, huh," Al scoffs. Maksim looks over at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

"My old man fought in the Cold War against those commies," Al informs him.

"Oh, but not you? So it's no problem, yeah?" Maksim smiles, and Al scowls.

"So, Mister Ildarova," Fran starts, and he glances sharply over.

"It's Doctor Ildarova, actually?"

"Ah." Fran glances at Al, who looks like he wants to start a fight. "Well, it's just--this is kind of a family get together, so--"

"He's welcome here," Tom says, stepping back out onto the porch. "Josh, honey, you need some help with that?"

James slips past his brother back into the house, Maksim following. "You are okay?" Maksim asks him softly, as James leads the way to the kitchen. James nods, although he's unsure of it. Maksim reaches for his hand, and James flinches, shaking his head.

"Jamieeee..."

"I don't--want them to know."

Maksim sighs, but makes no move to touch him again as James gets a glass of water. The blonde trails after him as he heads for the living room. Fran and Al come walking in a minute later, followed by Tom and his husband.

"I just don't see where he's going to stay," Fran says, as if Maksim's not there. "There are only two guest rooms, right?" Tom nods as she continues. "I guess he'll have to sleep on the couch..."

James feels his face fall, and he tries to reverse the motion, to remain impassive in expression, but Tom's watching him and responds. "No, that's not going to work. Josh and I have gotta be up first thing, crack of dawn to go feed the animals, and we'll be stompin around in our work boots at four... That's bad hospitality, ma." Francine purses her lips at that.

"Well then he can get a hotel," she says disdainfully, eyeing him.

"No, c'mon," Tom says, "we'll set him up with the air mattress in James' room. You alright with that, Maksim?"

"Yes, it's fine," Maksim says, and Fran huffs, turning to say something to Al. He cuts her off immediately.

"Well I wouldn't be fine with it. Sleeping in the same room as some Russki..."

"It's just not right," Fran agrees.

"You even gonna be able to sleep, Jim?" Al continues, and Maksim wrinkles his nose in distaste.

"Jeem?"

"Speak up, boy," Al says, and James nods again, then mumbles a response.

"Yes sir."

Maksim's face twitches again, and he drums his fingertips on his knee.

"What's the plan for dinner?" Fran asks, redirecting the conversation.

"Well, we could cook, or we could take everyone out," Tom says. "There're some nice restaurants in town. Whatever you folks prefer."

"Well we could go out," Fran says, looking at Al. He shrugs, eyes on the TV.

"Steakhouse it is," Tom says, looking at Josh and taking his hand. Maksim watches them for a moment, as if he's jealous.

---

They end up at a local steakhouse, crowded into a big corner booth. "Everyone order whatever you want," Tom says, as they're perusing the menus. "Don't worry about the price."

"Oh Tom, you can't afford that," Fran chides him and Josh ducks his head to hide a look.

"We make good money, ma," Tom says, and Fran shakes her head.

"Think I'll have the Tomahawk," Al announces, then shuts his menu and looks over at James. "You got a big appetite, boy?"

James shrugs.

"Answer me."

Not right now, no. "Yes sir," James mumbles, feeling Maksim bristle beside him. He moves his hand subtly from the seat of the booth to rub Maksim's thigh, trying to convey silently that it's okay, it doesn't matter.

"I'm guessing your Russki friend wants a salad," Al chuckles. Maksim raises an eyebrow, still looking over the menu.

"No, I am just deciding how I want my steak cooked," he says, and Al snorts.

"Gonna get the four ounce, huh?"

"No, I think Tomahawk? I will do that."

Al laughs, shaking his head. "Scrawny little thing like you?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Well now that seems like a waste of money," Fran cuts in.

"No, money's no issue," Josh assures her.

"They wanna have a pissing contest, they can have one," Tom agrees, resting his chin on his hand. "Might be fun."

"Don't," James says quietly, voice low. Maksim glances at him.

"You do not have faith in me?"

"Not for this," James murmurs, and Maksim purses his lips, looks back over the menu. "I'm not holding your hair back while you puke," James warns him, and Maksim nods.

"Then I get something else. Okay? Do not worry."

The waiter comes around with their drinks and takes their orders. Al barks out a laugh when Maksim asks for a four ounce, medium rare, and a side salad.

"So you decided you couldn't handle it, huh Igor?"

"My name is Maksim?" the Russian informs him. "You can call me Doctor Ildaraova, though."

Josh bites his lip, trying not to chuckle, and Tom elbows him. James orders his steak, barely listening to himself. He doesn't feel up to eating anything, knows he's going to end up taking it home and eating it cold in the middle of the night.

"So what kind of work are you doing, Al," Josh asks, after the waiter has left with their order. Al rolls his shoulders, makes himself comfy in the booth.

"It's top secret, US military stuff," he drawls. "Very important," he adds, humbly. "Yep, makin a fat wad of cash from that."

"That's always good," Josh says, eyes on Tom.

"I'd offer you a job, but I don't think we hire folks of your persuasion."

Josh stares at him, expression equal parts gleeful and mortified. "Oh, understandable!" he says, and Tom rubs his arm, shakes his head.

"Might still hire this one," Al continues, nodding at James. Maksim glances quickly over at him. "Never know when you might need some heavy lifting, you know..."

"You are getting a new job?" Maksim asks, voice soft, and James shakes his head subtly.

The attempts at polite conversation mostly die down to nothing when the waiter brings out their appetizers. It's outright uncomfortable, James is viscerally aware, not just for him. Josh is nervous, and Tom's trying to keep him calm without saying a word. Maksim presses his thigh against James', for lack of any other way of showing affection.

It's a relief when their meals come, if only because it means they can finish up and leave soon. James picks at his steak, not feeling up to eating any of it, as Maksim pours dressing on his salad. Al cuts into his steak, glancing between the two of them, then between Josh and Tom. The Tomahawk he's ordered is a hefty 32 ounces; two full pounds of meat, and a baked potato on the side.

The table is silent other than the clinking of silverware on plates. James gives up on trying to eat in front of Al, resolves to slip down to the kitchen after midnight to have dinner then. Maksim looks up from his food when Al addresses him.

"You know they'll let you take the rest of that home, Russki."

"I am aware? I am still eating," Maksim says.

"Maybe you should both take the rest home," Josh says, eyeing Al's massive steak, and Al scoffs.

"A real man finishes his meal," he says, which is an absolutely normal thing to say about a 32 ounce chunk of meat. Fran nods, finishing off her fish.

They return to silence. Maksim sets his fork and knife down, most of his steak still on his plate, and Al laughs sharply.

"You finished?" Al asks. "Couldn't handle it, huh."

"I am full. Why would I eat more, hm?"

"That's pathetic," Al informs him.

"Why do I care what you think? I am not here to impress you." Maksim leans back in the booth, agitated.

"Why the hell are you here, then?" Al asks, setting his fork down. "Seems like you just showed up out of nowhere."

"Can we just have a nice meal?" Tom asks. "Please."

"I invited him," James says, and then shrinks under the gaze his parents level at him.

"Why?" Fran asks, and James shakes his head. "Jimmy, this was supposed to be a family thing. Do you get that?"

"Boy's always been slow," Al sighs. "We got one gay one and one dumb one. Guess it coulda been worse, could have been two and two."

"That's unnecessary," Josh informs him snappishly. Maksim drops his hand below the table to find James' and squeezes hard.

"I'm just saying," Al continues, "better to have just one homo and one idiot in the family, rather than both of them--"

"Okay," Tom says, setting his napkin down. "Okay, that's--enough."

"But now this one's bringing his foreign friends around," Al continues, as Maksim laces his fingers into James' shaking fist.

"Al," Tom says, voice warning.

"Don't talk to your father that way," Fran snaps.

"So he should just be allowed to say whatever he wants to me and James?"

"Tom," Fran hisses. "He's your dad, show some respect."

James glances over at Maksim, who looks like he might kill someone, as Al sighs and slides out of the booth. "I'm gonna head to the truck, Franny," he informs her, and she nods, hopping up to follow.

"Jesus," Tom sighs, when it's just the four of them at the table. "It's been like this since they got here. Ten good years of progress, down the drain." Josh nods.

"Sorry," James mumbles.

"It's not your fault," Tom says, looking over at him. "Al's been trying to start a fight since yesterday." James nods, eyes on his plate. "God, and ma wants to know why you don't speak up, why you don't tell us anything."

"Because of the horse trauma," Maksim says sadly, and Tom stares at him, bewildered. James purses his lips, glancing at Tom.

"Jesus fucking Christ, James," Tom half-laughs. "You can't use the horse trauma excuse on your boyfriend."

"I--I know," James stammers, not correcting him, looking down at the table. Maksim looks between the two brothers, confused, and Tom sighs, addresses him.

"He's not quiet because of the horse. Alright? The--we had a horse growing up, and she just never shut up. Wouldn't let you get a word in edgewise." Josh nods, apparently having heard this story before. "The horse isn't why he's quiet. Al used to hit me whenever I acted up, and he hit James whenever he spoke up. Just made me act up worse, but James quit talking. Horse trauma was a--a joke, a good excuse for strangers, people we didn't want to explain it to." He looks at James, who ducks his head. "Not for your boyfriend."

"I know," James mumbles, avoiding eye contact. Maksim doesn't correct Tom either, and he's not sure how he's supposed to feel about that, other than embarrassed.

"You thought I wouldn't figure it out?" Tom asks after a moment's silence, and James shrugs. Yeah, he had kind of thought that.

"I figured you two were together too," Josh says quietly. Maksim looks between the three of them, still catching up with the conversation.

"So it is no problem, then? Since you both know?"

"I'd still watch it around Al," Tom warns. "He's not exactly easy to be around. Less so if he knows you're gay."

"Yeah, I wouldn't tell him or Fran," Josh says. Maksim clicks his tongue, arms folded.

"Not that Al would try anything," Tom clarifies. "And you're a grown man, you do what you want. But I personally wouldn't tell him anything."

James nods. "If you guys wanna head back, we'll settle the check. Spare key's under the mat if the door's locked," Tom says, and James nods again, sliding out of the booth. Maksim follows. "We'll see you back at the ranch."

It's already dark outside, and they walk out through the parking lot, shoes crunching on the gravel. "Your father makes me mad," Maksim informs him, and James nods, stopping by the Ford to let Maksim unlock it.

"He makes everyone mad," James says, climbing in beside him.

"Yes, well... He hit you..."

"It's okay," James says, and Maksim frowns.

"No? He hits you, it's not right."

"It was a long time ago," James says, and Maksim's frown deepens.

"That is even worse, you were just little kid." James decides to shut up and watch the highway approach. Maksim is an okay driver, James decides. He's heard stories from Barney about Gordon's driving...

Well, it's not like he gets to talk. He doesn't drive at all, except for when he has to.

They drive in silence down the highway, and James can't be sure if Maksim is mad at him or not. He's nervous. Scared that just being around his parents for a few hours will have chased Maksim off. He glances at the other man as he drives, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care to say anything.

Maksim pulls up into the driveway and kills the engine. He grabs James' arm, stopping him from climbing out, and pulls him into a kiss.

"I will protect you. Understand?" James nods, looking towards the house, nervous. "But you have to let me protect you. Okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, and Maksim lets go of him to climb out of the driver's side.

They head into the house. James stops in the kitchen to put their leftovers in the fridge, and passes back through the hall to head for the stairs. "C'mere boy," Al calls from the living room, and he pauses, gesturing for Maksim to go up without him, a signal which the Russian fully ignores to follow him instead.

Al's seated in the recliner again, cleaning and oiling his shotgun. Fran's on the couch, eyes on the TV. "You let me know if your roommate gives you any trouble, understand?" Al says, and James' eyes flicker to the gun, then over to Masim, whose green eyes are wide and nervous. "Speak," Al prompts him, and Maksim's face twists, becoming angry. James grabs his wrist, pushing him back into the hallway.

"Yessir."

"Good."

Maksim fumes all the way up the stairs, but James can see he's still anxious underneath it. "I do not like him," the blonde hisses at him, as James leads him down the hall to his guest room. "I do not trust him."

"I know," James says, shutting the door behind them. Maksim drops onto the edge of the bed, stressed, and James stands with his back to the door. This is why he had said it would be a bad idea, Maksim coming out here--hell, this is why he hadn't wanted to come at all.

"Why did he even have a gun?" Maksim asks, and James shakes his head. "Why!"

"It's--it's Texas."

"I do not understand," Maksim groans, falling back on the bed. James crosses the room and joins him, reaching for his hand without looking. "Do you need kisses?" he asks, and James starts to shrug, then gets it. Maksim needs it.

"Yeah," he says, rolling over to meet him halfway.

---

He's up, as predicted, a little after midnight to use the bathroom and go see about some dinner. Maksim is fast asleep, flat on his stomach, and James pets his hair a bit before he gets up to go feed himself.

Downstairs is pitch dark, and James creeps through to the kitchen, opening the fridge to find his steak. He flips on the light over the sink for a little visibility and sits down at the breakfast table to eat.

He's got about three bites in him when the back door opens and Al steps in off the porch. James eyes him warily, and Al eyes him back, shrugging off his jacket to hang it up. James sets his fork down.

"Franny wants me to offer you a job," Al says, and James keeps his eyes on his plate as his dad approaches the table. "Hey. You listenin'?"

James lifts his head and nods. "You'd have to be real stupid to walk on the kind of salary we're offering," Al continues. He pauses. "And I know you are real stupid, dumb bastard, but Fran's not gonna leave me alone unless I at least offer. Could be makin six figures within a few years. That's a hundred grand salary, quick and easy. How much you make at that research facility?"

James swallows. "You hear me?" Al asks, stepping closer. "How much?"

"Tw...twenty eight," James stammers out. He can't explain why he's so nervous. Al chuckles.

"How the hell do you live off that?" James doesn't answer, and Al smacks him on the back of his head. "Idiot. You want a job or not."

"No sir."

"You're gonna walk on an easy hundred grand."

James nods, and Al smacks him again, then heads for the fridge. "You oughta know--your brother? I'm not putting him back in the will. Franny, maybe. Haven't decided yet. You though... you act right and you might get a slice of the pie."

James stares at his food. He's not hungry anymore, but he doesn't want to leave his seat. Al cracks open a beer from the fridge, leans against the counter. "You got anything to say?" he asks, as Josh stumbles to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Hey," Josh says carefully. Al nods to him. Josh glances at James and addresses him. "You should get to bed..."

"Grown man can't have a midnight snack in this house?" Al asks, and Josh's eyebrows raise.

"Not what I said. It's just late--"

"Way I see it, this isn't your house anyway," Al continues. "Sure, you own half the business, but Tom owns the land. Shit's in his name."

Josh opens and shuts his mouth, looking at James again. "Jim's not gonna defend you," Al chuffs. "Idiot won't even stand up for himself."

"I--" James starts, and then feels his throat get tight when they both look at him.

"That's what I thought," Al says. "You remember what we talked about, now." He shoulders past Josh, heading for the living room to watch TV. Josh leans against the counter.

"What'd he talk to you about," Josh asks quietly, and James struggles for a minute to force himself to speak.

"Th... the will."

Josh nods slowly. "He's not putting Tom in it," James murmurs, and Josh shrugs.

"We don't need his money. Neither do you. You know we'd take care of you if it came down to it."

"I know." Silence for a minute. "I'm gonna... head back to bed."

"You want me to save that for you?"

"No."

Josh pats him on the shoulder as James stands, feeling again like he's not quite in his body for any of this. He heads back upstairs, stops to brush his teeth in the bathroom, and slips back into bed with Maksim.

---

He wakes up early in the morning to Maksim watching him. "Time is it," James asks, rolling over towards him.

"Hm? About six, I think. You were snoring."

"Tired," James groans.

"You are stressed," Maksim sighs, scooting closer to kiss his shoulder. A knock on the door startles them both; Maksim cringes and James sits bolt upright. "Hey," Josh calls from the hallway, "breakfast is almost ready if you guys are hungry."

"You hungry?" Maksim asks, and James nods. Really hungry. James stands and Maksim locates them each a pair of pants to put on. They head downstairs to the kitchen, where Josh is finishing setting out breakfast. Al and Fran are already seated at the kitchen table, eating and sipping coffee, and Tom is at the sink, starting on the breakfast dishes even as Josh tries to convince him to leave them.

"How'd you sleep," Tom asks, taking the seat on Al's left so that James doesn't have to. James nods gratefully and sits down, Maksim beside him.

"Good," he says, reaching for a plate to start picking out his breakfast.

"Russian give you any trouble?" Al asks, and Maksim clicks his tongue. James shakes his head, piling up his plate with eggs and sausage.

They eat in silence, other than the clinking of silverware on plates. James tries not to eat like he's starving, because he's not--but it has been a full 24 since he ate a real meal. Maksim watches him out of the corner of his eye, picking at his eggs.

"So. We're going to grandma Shirley's today," Tom says, placing his hand atop Josh's and intertwining their fingers. Al chuffs, shaking his head, a motion not missed by anyone except Fran.

"She'll be glad to see you boys," she says, and glances at Josh, then Maksim. "Obviously this one is family only, so--" Al laughs outright at that, watching Josh huff.

"My husband is family, ma," Tom says, and Fran sets her fork down.

"I'm not saying that you two can't be... close. But your nanna is old, she doesn't need to see that."

"Nobody needs to see that," Al chuckles.

Tom glares at him, and Josh pats his arm, slipping his hand free. "It's okay."

"I'm not okay with it!" Tom insists.

"You want to give your grandmother a heart attack, is that it? She hasn't seen you in years, Tom, make a good impression."

"Whose fault is it that she hasn't wanted to see me in years," Tom snaps, and Josh rubs his shoulder soothingly.

"Tom, baby, I don't have to go," Josh says softly, and Tom shakes his head. "I can just stay home."

"I'm not okay with that," Tom says back, voice just as quiet. Al clears his throat.

"Well I'll be staying here. Old bat never liked me." He leans back in his seat, coffee mug in hand. Fran says nothing, as if he hasn't said a word about her mother.

Josh immediately appears to reconsider staying behind. "I mean. I could stay in the truck."

"Either way," Al says, and looks past him to Maksim. "Obviously you're staying here."

"Maksim can do what he wants," Tom argues, as Maksim's hand finds James' under the table, holding on nervously. James squeezes.

"It's a family thing," Fran insists in a hiss, leaning forward, as if that'll prevent Maksim or Josh from hearing her. Tom sighs, agitated, and rubs his face with his hand. "Your nanna doesn't support the--GB...BLG--"

"She's homophobic, I get it," Tom snaps.

"I didn't say that," Fran says, taken aback. "If you don't want to go, Jimmy can drive me."

James bristles, dropping his fork. "What, now you have a problem with it?" Fran asks, and James swallows, glancing at Tom for support. Tom doesn't notice.

"I don't want to go."

"Unbelievable," Fran huffs. "Why not? She'd be happy to see you."

No, she wouldn't. James falls silent with all eyes on him, clears his throat uselessly. "If--if she doesn't... support Tom..."

Al chuckles dryly, and Fran struggles not to roll her eyes. "Jim--"

"If he does not want to go he should not go," Maksim speaks up for the first time since they've sat down, then drains his coffee.

"Not really your business, Vladimir," Al snaps at him, "seeing as how you weren't invited anyway."

"Mm, sounds like you are not invited too? So it's not really your business either, yeah?"

"Stop," James says quietly, as Al rises to his feet. The hair on the back of his neck stands up as Al prowls around to stand behind him and Maksim, and he quickly slips his hand out of Maksim's. The Russian looks up at the older man, seemingly unaffected, other than the way that he bounces his leg under the table.

"You got something to say to me, Igor, why don't you say it," Al says, voice low. Tom pushes his chair back to stand and intervene.

James watches Maksim weigh his options for a second, then bite his tongue. "Nothin, huh," Al laughs. "Stay out of it then."

"Don't talk to our guest that way," Tom snaps at him. "This isn't your house."

Al doesn't argue with that, but he also doesn't sit back down. Tom continues with a tone of strict authority, "My husband's coming with me. Maksim, you can come if you want, just don't expect to have a good time."

Fran sighs and sips at her coffee, giving up the fight.

---

"Stop trying to start a fight with my dad," James says, when he and Maksim are alone in the guest room.

"I am not--"

"You are. It's--" Stressful. Scary. "Just don't say anything to him. Don't give him any ammunition."

Maksim clicks his tongue, stands up from the edge of the bed. "You are mad at me, Jamie?"

"No. I'm just... I don't want him to hurt you."

"I am not afraid of him," Maksim says, patting his arm.

"You should be. I..." I am, hangs the unspoken realization between them. It's heavy. James looks away, silent.

"Do you want me to come with," Maksim asks after a minute.

"I don't think it's a good idea," James admits.

"Then I will stay here. Okay? I will stay out of trouble for you."

James nods, even as the realization creeps up his spine and nestles in his brain that Maksim will be alone in the house with Al. That's not great. "Can you stay in here," he asks, and Maksim cocks his head. "I mean, just--don't give him a reason. Stay out of his way."

"Okay," Maksim says. "I will be good, okay? I promise."

Still, James thinks, sitting in the backseat of Tom's truck cab, he won't be able to relax until they're back. The thought is in his head now, as they drive along the highway, the idea that Al could hurt Maksim, and until he's back to confirm that nothing's happened...

It's only a twenty minute drive to Shirley's place. Tom pulls the truck up into the driveway of her trailer, behind her car, and the four of them climb out. Fran leads the way, up the ramp to the front door, which she knocks on and swings open to let them in. A long haired dachshund jolts awake from a patch of sunlight just inside the door and begins barking its head off, summoning three more of the little weiner dogs to come running.

"Is that Cici?" Shirley calls from the living room. "Come on in!"

"Your grandma's old," Fran reminds them, stepping over one of the dogs. "And she's got a bad heart, so don't say anything too..." She glances at Tom. He struggles not to roll his eyes.

Shirley is in her chair in the living room, petting a fifth dachshund and watching daytime TV. "Come on in," she repeats as the four of them enter, "make yourselves at home. Cici, come sit down." She pauses, looking between Tom and Josh, settling in on the loveseat opposite the couch. "Tom, honey, you've gotten so tall..."

Tom nods silently. "I don't think I've seen you since you were in middle school," she continues, and he nods again, slower. "It's good to see you."

"You too."

"Now introduce me to your handsome friend," Shirley says, and Tom glances at his husband. They share some look, and Tom nods, looking back over at Shirley.

"This is my husband, Josh."

"Tom!" Fran gasps.

"Come on, ma, you knew I wasn't going to hide it."

"You could at least--I don't know, try!"

"How long have you been married," Shirley asks.

"Four years," Tom says, and she nods, eyes sad.

"I'm sorry I missed the wedding, honey."

"Well, we would have invited you, but..." Tom looks at Fran, who makes a frantic motion for him to stop talking. "Mom made it pretty clear that you didn't support that part of my life and didn't want me in yours--"

"Why's this the first I'm hearing of it, Francine," Shirley asks, and Fran deflates slightly. "Hm? Why am I the last to know that my grandson's married?"

Fran bites her lip, looking away. "...Tom, I never told your grandma you were gay."

Tom recoils slightly, wounded. "You said she didn't want to see me anymore."

"Cici, you idiot," Shirley sighs.

"I thought you wouldn't support him! I mean--is it so wrong to want to protect my son?"

"Why wouldn't I support him? He's my grandbaby." Shirley returns focus to Tom. "You know, my sister was gay."

"You never told me that!" Fran says pointedly.

"Well I didn't want to; you were always with Al, and that church. I'm proud of you, Tom. I just wish I could've been there."

Tom nods, and Josh rubs his shoulder. "I wish you could've been there too, Grandma."

"How about you James," Shirley calls, and he lifts his head. "Cici says you're working at a lab in Arizona? Or was it Mexico..."

"New Mexico, mom," Fran says.

"You like your job honey?" Shirley asks, and James nods. "You gotta speak up, I'm very old."

"Yes."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

He pauses, starts to shake his head and then stops himself. "No."

"Well, New Mexico girls must be crazy, leaving you alone." A second dachshund climbs into Shirley's lap, and she leans over, setting them both on the floor. Another immediately jumps up and settles in.

They settle into somewhat comfortable conversation after that: Shirley asks Josh about himself, makes him stand up and turn in a circle so she can get a look at him. "You can pick 'em good, Tom," she informs him, as Josh laughs and Tom hides his face.

James settles into the couch, two of the dachshunds sniffing wetly at him as he checks his phone. No texts. No news is good news, hopefully, he thinks, slipping it back into his pocket.

---

There isn't much to do in the guest bedroom, Maksim is quick to discover. He pulls his work laptop out of his suitcase to see about checking in on the project, but the Wifi doesn't reach the corner bedroom. He ends up putting his computer away without doing anything.

He's not afraid of James' father. He'd meant that, but he still has every intention of avoiding the man. He clearly makes James miserable, and that's reason enough to give him space.

James and his family have been gone around an hour and a half, and Maksim is starting to feel like a grounded child. To be fair, he had willingly promised to stay in the guest room, but he's thirsty now.

Maksim cracks the door open, peeks out into the hall as if expecting Al to be standing right there, waiting. Instead, the hallway is empty. He steps out, shutting the door carefully behind himself, and heads for the stairs.

He avoids the living room, because he can hear the TV on in there, and heads for the kitchen to get something to drink. The floor creaks behind him as he's filling up a glass with water, and Maksim turns slowly, looking back at Al.

Neither of them says anything at first, until Al steps towards him. Maksim sets his glass aside, eyeing him warily.

"What do you want," Maksim asks, as Al regards him coolly.

"If you think I don't know what you are, you're an idiot," he says finally, and Maksim rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms.

"What you think I am, then? Hm?" Al chuckles, and Maksim feels his skin prickle. He's not afraid of Al, though, he reminds himself, even as the older man approaches and his back hits the counter.

"Pretty big property Tom's got here," Al says, and Maksim just stares at him, eyes wide. "No one's around for miles. Means that no one's gonna hear you scream out there."

He feels cold. His mouth is dry. "I can finish what my pops started with you fucking commies," Al continues, when Maksim says nothing.

"Do not come near me," he chokes, finding his voice at last.

"Does anyone even know that you're out here?" Al asks, and Maksim swallows hard.

"James knows."

"You think that boy's gonna say one word against me?" Al chuffs, stepping up to the counter, and Maksim scurries away until he backs into the fridge. It was a lie. He's scared. He watches as Al fills himself a glass of water, takes a long drink off of it. He sets the glass down, smacks his lips. "I have a theory," he says. "Tom turned out queer because I wasn't around to parent him. Franny went too damn easy on those boys."

His eyes don't leave Maksim, but if he notices the way he bristles, he doesn't say anything about it. "Seen it too many times," Al continues. "When there's not a man in the family to rear the boys, they come out wrong. Women don't know how to whoop em, they can't handle that responsibility. So how about you. Your daddy ever whoop you?"

Maksim doesn't answer. Al gives him a minute, then stalks forward and grabs the Russian by his hair, forcing him to look up at him. "Answer me."

"No."

"No what. You never got whooped?"

"My parents did not beat me," Maksim snaps, and Al's lip curls.

"High time somebody did, then."

Maksim holds his breath. He's scared. Maybe he wasn't before, maybe he was being truthful, but he is now. The sound of Tom's truck pulling up the driveway is such a relief, he could almost cry.

"Saved by the bell," Al chuckles. "Watch yourself, boy." And then he lets him go and heads back to the living room. Maksim barely refrains from sinking to the floor; instead he leans heavily on the counter, trying to calm himself.

What had James told him? Stop trying to start a fight with my dad. He's pretty sure that nearly counts as a fight. Jamie would be so upset...

Tom comes walking into the kitchen and pauses. "You alright?"

"Hm? Yes, I am fine?" He straightens up. "You are back so soon?"

Tom nods, but doesn't say anything else as Maksim heads past him for the staircase.

---

It takes James less than ten minutes to figure out that something's wrong, but he doesn't ask Maksim right away. He gives the other man a chance to say something on his own first, waits a few hours until they've had dinner and everything.

But even after the sun's gone down, Maksim doesn't say anything. He's acting like nothing happened, and James knows something has to have happened, because he's acting cagey. The best he can guess is that Al said something to him.

"I need to ask you something," he says finally, when Maksim's toweling his hair dry on the guest bed that night.

"Yes, what?"

"I need you to be honest with me," James says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Maksim's neck.

"Mmm, I am always?"

"No you aren't." Another kiss, to his jaw.

"Hm, well." James pushes him back on the bed and Maksim goes down easy, pulling James atop him. "What do you want to know?"

"I need you to tell me what happened while we were gone." Maksim blinks up at him, hands on James' shoulders.

"I stayed in the room, yes?"

"You're a bad liar, Maksim."

"No, it's not lying?"

"You were downstairs when we came back, and something obviously happened--"

"You think I cannot handle myself? Jamie."

"I think you're lying to me, and I want to know why."

"Being so mean to me," Maksim huffs.

"Because I'm asking you not to lie to me?" James asks, and Maksim purses his lips, looking away. "What're you afraid of?"

Maksim opens his mouth as if to respond automatically, and quickly shuts it. "No, tell me," James prompts him.

"You... your father scares me."

"Okay," James says. "What'd he say to you."

"I don't want to tell you." James watches him, not saying anything, and Maksim starts to squirm and speak of his own volition. "He--said some threats. It is not a big deal, I am grown man, I will handle it myself. Okay?"

"No. Tell me what he said."

Maksim whines, but relents. "He... said no one would hear me out here, if I scream? He wants to finish what his svinya father started, I don't know, I..." He trails off. "It is stupid, okay? I am not afraid of... that."

"And you're not leaving anything out?"

"No! Jamie, I told you all of it, okay?"

"...Okay," James says, and moves back to let him up.

"Are you mad at me?" Maksim asks, sitting up slowly.

"No," James murmurs, pulling him close.

"Do not tell him I told you," Maksim pleads, and James shakes his head and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. There's a knock at the door that makes them both jolt, and Tom clears his throat from the hallway.

"You guys should come have some drinks with me and Josh," he calls. "If you want to."

"Wanna go get a drink?" James asks, and Maksim nods, pulling away to stand and put some clothes on.

They end up in the kitchen, where Tom cracks open and passes out beers. "Al took Fran out," he says, "so we've got some time."

James smiles, taking the beer he's offered. He's mid-swig when Josh shoots him a question.

"So how did you two meet?" An innocuous question, but James chokes and coughs, going red. He gives Maksim a look, but is ignored as the Russian answers.

"We were partners for hazardous environment training." Okay, that's... probably a safe answer. Doesn't stop Tom from eyeing James strangely as he dabs at his spilled beer.

"And you two just--what, hit it off and started dating?"

Maksim clams up, looks away as he drinks his beer. "I do not recall," he murmurs. At least he has some tact.

"You don't know how you started dating," Josh clarifies. Maksim turns all focus to downing his drink.

I don't know if we are dating, James thinks, but he keeps it to himself. It feels shitty to say out loud; like wanting more is crossing some line that they've drawn in doing whatever they're doing here. Tom and Josh are looking at him, and James doesn't know what to do other than drink.

So he does that, downs his beer fast, throat bobbing. Maksim watches him for a second, then counters with a question for Josh and Tom.

"How did you meet?" Josh looks over at him, cocks his head to think.

"We actually met in high school, but we didn't start dating until our second year of college," Josh says, and Maksim nods, encouraging him on. He smiles fondly, thinking about his husband. "I always had a thing for him, though... I was a real dork in school, carried a guitar everywhere my senior year."

"You play music?"

"Nope," Tom supplies, and Josh scowls at him, earning himself a ruffling of his hair.

"Well, I did! Not so much anymore, but I thought it gave me some cool points. I wanted the boys to notice me, see... I used to just lean on the wall of the cafeteria and strum chords like I was warming up for some performance that just never happened."

"It was so irritating," Tom sighs fondly. Maksim chuckles. James remains very interested in drinking as much beer as he can as quickly as he can.

"We actually started hanging out because... well, actually, he got real pissed at me one day, told me to stop strumming that stupid thing, said I was in the way. I was devastated. But the next day he apologized and invited me to come sit with him." Josh grins, shaking his head. "I don't think he thought I'd take him up on that so easily."

"Sure as hell didn't," Tom chuckles over the mouth of his beer bottle.

"You liked him," Maksim replies, and it's half a question.

"Well, of course. I stopped carrying the guitar around for him... He wasn't popular, but he was handsome, and he had good taste in music... Which is all you really need when you're a teenager, I guess. We were in the same grade, went to the same college... Over time I just fell for him."

"To be fair, I wasn't all that handsome," Tom says.

"You had a mustache, it was cute!"

"It was barely anything!" Tom laughs, and Josh reaches out to stroke his mustache now. Tom grabs his hand and kisses his finger.

"When did you kiss him?" Maksim asks, and Josh laughs.

"When we were both drunk enough I could claim it was an accident. He saw right through that, told me to stop pussyfooting around and do it again."

Maksim nods. "Boy, for not being able to talk about yourself, you're sure fulla questions," Josh says, and Maksim turns his head and shuts up.

"Don't tease him," Tom says, turning his focus to James. "You about done hiding behind your beer?"

"Nope."

"Well if you're gonna drink me out of house and home, at least come grab another case from the garage with me," Tom says, standing from where he's been leaning against the counter. James sighs, standing at his beckoning to follow him, leaving Maksim and Josh alone.

Maksim is quiet. "When did you know you loved him," he asks finally, and Josh tips his head back, thinking.

"It's hard to say... I mean, looking back, it feels like I've just always loved him. But I guess I really knew he was the one when we moved to Houston. He risked everything... just to help other people, kids he didn't even know. He would've given the clothes off his back if he'd had to... I know he regrets leaving, sometimes, but the nonprofit's in good hands now, so..."

They sit for a minute in silence. "How about you?" Josh asks, and Maksim raises an eyebrow. "Do you love him?"

"Ah... yes, of course." Maksim takes a sip of his beer, sets the bottle down. "He is kind, beautiful man."

"Are you in love with him," Josh presses, watching him choke a little.

Maksim averts his eyes, a blush creeping over his cheeks. "It is hard to say it," he mumbles, and Josh smiles.

"The Welk boys are good men, huh."

"Yes, he is good boy."

"Does he know you love him?" Josh asks, and Maksim looks away again, focusing on the decor of the kitchen. "Have you told him?"

"...Not in same words," Maksim says carefully.

"You should tell him," Josh says, and Maksim shakes his head, flushing a deep red.

"No... No, that would be too much?" He glances at Josh, then away again. "If he rejects me..."

"I can tell you, I've never heard James talk so much or laugh so much as he has with you," Josh says, and Maksim ducks his head, trying not to grin. "Even Tom can barely get a couple sentences out of him most days, and they talk every..."

He trails off as the Welk brothers return with a case of beer to stock the fridge. "Does Maksim know that you're a lightweight?" Tom asks, and James curses, mumbles at him to shut up.

"He's not that bad," Josh chuckles, leaning over James to grab another beer. He hands it off to Maksim and grabs a second for himself.

It's late when they head back upstairs, and James is pleasantly drunk. They've managed to dodge any ensuing questions about the nature of their relationship, Al isn't back yet, and he feels sleepy and good. Masksim lays down beside him and James watches him as he drifts off. Two days down. No major fuckups so far. He scoots closer, draping his arm over Maksim and pressing his face into his shoulder.

---

The next day, James is predictably hungover. He rests his cheek on the breakfast table, lifting it occasionally to sip coffee while the conversations around him hover over him, oppressive in their noise.

"Any thoughts James?" Tom asks, and he lifts his head and opens his eyes. "We're talking about taking Maksim to see the horses, some of the ranch," Tom reiterates, and James glances at his friend.

"You wanna?"

"Yes, of course?" Maksim presses his socked foot to James' ankle under the table. "You are coming with, yes?"

"Yeah."

He takes a shower after breakfast, to try to flush out his headache. It's somewhat effective. At the very least, he'll live. Tom and Josh are waiting for him in the living room with Maksim, where Fran and Al are watching television.

"You ready?" Tom asks, and the three of them stand. Josh heads straight out to the truck, and Tom addresses their parents. "We'll be back before dinner. I've got my cell if you need anything."

"Have fun," Fran says, unable to tear her eyes away from the shopping channel. Al glances over at him and nods, eyes flickering to Maksim in a move not unnoticed by James. He keeps it to himself until they're at the stables, showing Maksim the horses.

"Did he say anything to you," James asks when they're alone for a moment.

"Who?"

"Al."

"Not today, no?" Maksim stops walking, turning to face him. "You worry about nothing, Jamie. So cute... but you'll make yourself sick like that."

James ducks his head, hiding a grin, and Maksim reaches for his hand, stopping when Tom calls out to them from the other end of the stables.

"Maksim, you wanna ride a horse?"

Maksim grins at him, stepping around James to follow Tom. James trails after him.

Within half an hour, they've got Maksim on the back of a horse, Tom leading him around in a circle. James hangs back at the edge of the arena, and Josh leans against the fence behind him.

"When Barney brought Gordon out here, he made Gordon wear all the padding," Josh tells him. James grins.

"My brother, or Barney?"

"Barney did." James laughs, and Josh chuckles. "You should get up on a horse."

"No, I'm... I'm just gonna watch." Josh doesn't push it, just nods. They stand in silence for a few minutes, until Josh pipes up again.

"Your boyfriend really loves you."

"He's not..." James flushes, looking away. Josh leans forward, frowning, squinting at him. "We're not, uh. Not really dating."

"Oh," Josh says. "Oh. Okay, I had the whole wrong idea then, I'm sorry."

"I mean, you probably had the right idea, just..."

"Just not dating."

"Yeah."

"Is that what you want? To not be a couple?"

James purses his lips, eyes on the ground. "No."

"Okay," Josh says carefully, leaning back against the fence again. "Then you should tell him."

No, James thinks. Telling Maksim that he wants more would be one of those uncomfortable conversations that he's tried so hard to avoid up until now. And if Maksim says no? If he rejects James and things fall apart, what then? Better to take what he can get, quietly, than kick up a fuss and lose it.

Besides, what they do have is good. He's not greedy, he doesn't need to risk it all to go for more.

Maksim is sore that night, and James holds him, trying not to think about it too hard.

---

When they come down for breakfast Wednesday morning, the mood is tense. James looks at Tom, leaning against the counter, as he enters the kitchen. Josh is by his side, and he's visibly upset, eyebrows knit and face red.

"Sit down, boy," Al says, gesturing to the seat to his left. "We might as well talk." James looks to Tom again, who shrugs at him, and sits down as he's told. Maksim follows suit, settling in on his other side. Fran is silent, forehead resting against her clasped hands, as if she's praying.

"Last chance on this," Al says. "You listenin? I'm giving you one more chance to take the job. Hundred grand a year, remember? You come work for me, I'll show you the ropes. Give it a few years, I'll be retired and you'll have my job. I ain't finished," he snaps, when James opens his mouth to answer. "I'm being generous here. I know you can't do better than that, and your ma knows it, and that's why she's pushed so hard for me to take you under my wing. Probably shoulda done it years ago. Mighta been able to stop that one from being gay, stop you from being so fucking dense."

"I'm not putting those two in the will, and they know it. But if you take this job, I'll write you back in. I'm not finished Jim."

"I don't want your money."

"Yes you do. You dumb fucker."

"No I don't." James levels his gaze at his father, doesn't allow himself to stare at the table like he'd like to. "I'm happy where I am."

"Idiot." Fran exhales sharply through her nose, and Al chuckles, standing to get some coffee from the pot. "You stupid little shit." Maksim is tense beside him, and James presses his leg against his friend's, trying to offer something solid.

Al hits him on the back of the head and James grunts, surprised. Maksim is on his feet in an instant, glaring up at Al.

"You do not get to hit him."

"Settle down, Anastasia." Al sneers at him. "No one's impressed by you."

"You," Maksim snarls back, "no one is impressed by you. You're pathetic, hitting your kids. You wonder why they do not, mm, respect you? Because you are nothing."

"Maksim," James tries softly, as Al sets his coffee mug down, turns, and hits Maksim in the face. Maksim yelps, and James stands so quickly his chair topples over. He turns and decks his father, then again, shouting back at whatever Al is yelling without hearing either of them.

"Don't lay a fucking hand on him!" That might be James. Yeah. He feels the words leave his mouth, knows he shouts some followup about killing Al if he touches his boyfriend again, but isn't present enough to hear it.

"James!" He's not sure who says it. He can hear his blood pumping, heart pounding in his ears, and everything seems narrowed, focused on Al. Pain blooms in his jaw and James ignores it, punches Al again. Al punches him back, crowing gleefully, words he can't make out past anything else going on. It's everything--it's years of fear and stress and anger, and even with Al hitting him back, it feels good to let it loose. Better than punching Eric, by far.

"Enough," Tom pants raggedly in his ear, grabbing him by the arm to pull him back. Josh has his other arm. "Al, get out."

"Fuck you, Tom."

"Yeah, fuck you too. Get out."

"Fucking queers," Al sneers, and Tom jerks his head towards the door, momentarily loosening his grip on James, as if inviting him to punch Al again. He doesn't.

"You're bleeding," Josh says, "sit down." James sits, but he's not wild about it. He's shaking, like he was in the HR office. Not there. Not in his body, tingly. Had he said something, while he was punching Al? Had he given him some ammunition to use?

He can't look at Maksim.

Josh makes him pinch a wad of tissues over his nose and tilt his head back to stop the flow of blood, and Tom paces and curses softly, and Fran hangs back, wringing her hands, and Maksim is silent and unmoving behind him, he's aware of that.

Fran speaks up first. "When you said boyfriend--"

"Jesus, ma," Tom sighs. James pretends that he can't speak as long as he's tilting his head back, stares at the ceiling and waits for the bleeding to stop. Or continue forever. Either way.

"You need to say something," Tom says, and James shrugs noncommittally, as if he's not shaking. As if he's not affected by this. "Okay. You want me to then?"

"No."

"Are you dating the Russian, Jimmy?" Fran asks, and Jame studies the ceiling, pretending that he also can't hear her.

"Yeah, he is," Tom answers, when James doesn't say anything. Josh, blessedly, keeps his mouth shut. "And you need to decide right now if you're going to stick around and be our mom or if you're going to go after Al again. You get one or the other. Us or him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Fran asks, and James lowers his head, looks at the handful of bloodied tissue, and finally speaks.

"You take that kind of news pretty bad, ma."

"No I don't," Fran protests. "I just--I want to make sure you're okay, that you're not being--manipulated into something you don't want to--"

"I'm not stupid."

"I know that--"

"You treat me like I'm stupid." He can't turn and look at her, because that would mean seeing Maksim as well, but as long as he's looking at the bloody tissues in his hand, he can talk. "I'm not an idiot. I'm gay. I like him."

"I just want you boys to be happy," Fran offers, and James nods.

"I'm happy. With... with Maksim."

"Jamie..."

Fuck, now he really can't look at him. Josh looks increasingly nervous, and James tries not to look at him either. Just stare at the cupboards. Maksim, sick of being ignored, kneels in front of him and looks sadly up at him. Fuck. Now for the rejection. Maksim's face is red where Al hit him, but he's not bleeding. James hesitantly reaches for him, petting his hair.

"You should have told me sooner," Maksim says, "that you want to date."

"I don't." The lie is instinctive and immediate.

"No, you are bad at lying."

"I'm confused," Fran says, "are they not--"

"Privacy," Tom says, "let's give them a minute." He and Josh leave for the living room, and Fran hesitates, then follows.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Maksim asks.

"I..." James inhales shakily and shrugs. "I don't know. I was scared."

"Afraid of what? Me?"

"Afraid I'd lose what we have."

Maksim smiles at him, shaking his head, and presses a wad of tissues back to James' nose to stop the blood from flowing again. "I am not so easy to get rid of. You know this."

"Are we dating?" James asks, and Maksim grins.

"We can be."

"Okay," James says, tilting his head back. "Cool."

"But you have to ask me."

James huffs, closing his eyes, trying not to smile. "You have to," Maksim says, shaking his shoulder.

"Are... will you... do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"So cute, Jamie! Of course." Maksim stands and kisses him, then straightens up. "I am going to make nice with your mother."

He leaves despite James' protests, stopping in the hallway. Tom looks over at him and beckons him into the room, where Fran is mid-apology.

"...for bringing him into your home, Tom... and Josh. I feel like I've put everything in jeopardy." She looks over at Maksim as he steps into the living room. "And I'm sorry that this is the welcome you got into our family."

Maksim shrugs. "You have taken it better than my mother did."

"She wasn't accepting," Fran surmises. Maksim laughs.

"She told me I should have done better job at killing myself, yes. You are lucky to have such forgiving sons," he says. "My mother, I do not speak to her for years now. Since I was a teenager. It hurts me too. I don't want Jamie to have that feeling."

Fran nods, lowering her eyes to the rug, and Josh stands, leaving them to go check on his brother in law. "I don't want that either," she murmurs finally, and Tom squeezes her hand.

"Good," Maksim says, looking away.

---

It's evening before James broaches the topic. After dinner, they're in the guest bedroom, checking that things are mostly packed for the flight back in the morning. Maksim is tapping around on his laptop, trying to make the Wifi work.

"Can I ask you something," James asks, and Maksim nods, clicking and unclicking some setting, frowning. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you tried to kill yourself," James says, and Maksim snaps his laptop shut.

"I, ah... I did not want you to know that. Who told you?" He runs his hand over the case of his computer, not making eye contact. Nervous.

"Tom did. He said you told them after breakfast." Maksim sighs. "It hit close to home for them. Tom tried to kill himself when I was young."

"You're still young," Maksim says, setting his laptop aside and laying back on the bed.

"When I was a kid," James clarifies. Maksim doesn't respond. "Can you tell me..?"

"It was a long time ago, Jamie."

"I want to know," James says gently. He presses the issue when Maksim doesn't respond, "I need to know, so that when you're hurting..."

"I'm not going to try again," Maksim huffs, then softens his tone. "Things were bad back then. I'm better now."

James is silent. He's not comfortable, not knowing, but if Maksim won't tell him... He lays down beside the other man, reaching for his hand.

"You don't have to tell me."

"Just give me a minute."

"Okay." They lay in silence for a few minutes, a short while, before Maksim speaks. "When I was younger, maybe nineteen... No, before I graduated high school. I guess eighteen... maybe."

"You don't remember?" James turns his head to look at him.

"I don't." Maksim takes another long pause. James is silent, giving him space. "I was not always popular boy I am now," Maksim says. "School was, hmm. Brutal."

"Because you were gay," James supplies, and Maksim hums again, thinking.

"No. Well, a part of it. A part, but not all. School was often violent place anyway, you know." He pauses. "In Russia, you are not judged only for yourself. It's your family, too. My family was not respectable, so I was not respected. It is complicated. I would have been target anyway, okay? Being homosexual was just fuel on fire.

"It was illegal anyway," he says after a bit. "It was serious crime. So I did not act on it until before graduation... I had good friend, Dmitriy. His family was like mine, not respected, so he was target too. Bullying victim. He had heard rumors, but we were friends, we were close..." Maksim sighs, closing his eyes. "I thought, if he knew, he was fine with it. He was outcast like me anyway."

He swallows hard. "I was stupid. I told him truth, like an idiot. He thought at first I was joking, you know? To make him laugh. He told me it is disgusting, he would report me... then he became so angry. So disgusted with me. I had... I had never had feelings about Dmitriy, okay? But he was revolted, that we had wrestled together, and I had seen him in showers... He beat me, said he would report me that day. I didn't know what to do...

"So I went home... I didn't want to die in the dormitory. It would be too cruel." James rolls closer, reaching for him. "I did not want to die, James, I was just scared. I did not want to be liquidated, or imprisoned, disappeared..."

James presses a kiss to the side of his head. "S'okay," he murmurs.

"I... it was middle of winter, very cold. I thought I could die fast, if I did it right. But I also... thought I deserve to suffer, for being this way. So I went home, took all the pills in the cabinet... went back outside to walk until I died."

"Someone found me... I do not really remember, but I woke up in hospital, and they made me call my mother to tell her what I'd done." He swallows again, eyes closed. "When I told her, mama, I tried to kill myself, she asked why? And I said, I thought I should die for being gay, it would bring you less shame--and she told me, yes, you should have tried harder then."

James sucks in a sharp inhale. "She wanted me to die, she would not... answer the phone again, after that. Had to stay in hospital for a while, and when I left and tried to go home, she slammed the door in my face. She told me, figure it out. I almost did not graduate, did not get into university... I had to get some money for bribes, to get in." His accent is thick, voice heavy with emotion. "My mother hates me, Jamie. She only calls to tell me this, to remind me, and see if I am still this way, and my sister is the same."

"I'm sorry," James murmurs, rubbing his back.

"I don't know what I did so wrong," Maksim says quietly.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

Maksim just shakes his head. He's quiet for a while. "After that," he says eventually, "I did not try to die again... I wanted out of Russia. I would hurt myself, but in secret... I did not want to be sent to hospital again. I wanted out. I thought if I come here, maybe I won't want to die anymore."

"Did it work," James asks, and Maksim laughs, hollow and without any humor in it.

"Of course it works? I am fine now, you see?" He turns and presses his face into James' chest. "I don't want to die," Maksim says, voice muffled by James' shirt. "I want... I wish my mother loved me." He sniffs and lifts his head. "But since she does not, it's more important that I have you."

---

They fly back to Black Mesa on Friday morning, bright and early. Maksim drives them back in the rental Ford and returns the keys, and then they go through TSA and check in for their flight.

James thinks about it on the plane, while Maksim snores on his shoulder. He knows where they stand now. Mostly. That's good; it's just what he wanted. He's still working out how this will change things between them, but it's good to know.

Returning to work Monday morning after a week's time off is hard. James feels better though. Lighter. The visit with HR feels like it was years ago, as does all the other irrelevant shit he's put up with. It's behind him. Things are good now.

He thinks this up until he arrives at his post for the morning. Eric is there, and they eye each other with equal distaste. Neither of them speaks for the longest time--Eric because he's formulating some nasty sentence to spit at him, James because, as he would say, horse trauma.

"How's that disciplinary action going," Eric starts, and James shrugs, eyes on the hallway. "Yeah. Guess it doesn't matter much when you're on vacation for a week."

Another shrug. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," Eric says, and James glances over at him.

"What."

"Don't "what" me. I've got friends in high places here, Welk. You wanna see how fast that harassment claim can escalate?"

"I'm not afraid of you," James says, and finds that it's true. He's just now. Eric's just some guy. A small guy, even. He can't possibly hurt him in any way that matters.

"You should be," Eric says, and James shrugs. "You might be too dumb to notice, but I call the shots around here. The other guards listen to me. So if I tell them to make this hellhole hostile for Ivan there, they'll do it. You wanna see how a long distance relationship works out between you two?"

James purses his lips, silent. No, he doesn't want that.

"That's what I thought."

"What do you want from me," James asks quietly, heart sinking fast, and Eric sneers.

"I need you to fall in line," Eric says. "One guard acting up--that reflects on us all. You act right, and I'll drop it all. You can keep your job. I don't care. Just pretend to be normal. You think you can do that?" he asks, as Maksim rounds the corner and freezes. Eric curls his lip in a grin as Maksim straightens up and continues down the hall. "Don't answer right now. Go ahead and think about it."

Maksim isn't at lunch that day, but then again, neither is Gordon. Barney sighs loudly, sinking down in his seat and picking at his pizza, bemoaning Gordon's absence. James stews beside him. He's got a bad feeling brewing.

And yet, for about a month, nothing happens. Barney and Gordon fly back out to Seattle for Christmas and New Years. James and Maksim spend both holidays together, flying under the radar--or trying to. James spends the weekends and holidays at Maksim's dorm, or up in town with him. And at the very least, Eric says nothing to him. It's like his focus is elsewhere.

Barney arrives back at Black Mesa looking rested, rejuvenated. "I gotta tell you something," he informs James, walking straight into his dorm room, pulling his suitcase after him. James looks up from his game and pauses it. Barney shuts the door, takes a breath, and grins at him.

"Gordon and I are engaged."

James stares at him for a long moment as Barney stands there, arms out, face bright and happy. He stands up and dashes over to grab his buddy in a hug, and they both shout over each other about it.

"When?!"

"I don't know--no date yet. I'm thinking May. You're coming. I mean of course you are." James steps back, grinning at him, and Barney laughs and slaps his shoulder, then heads for the couch and details the entire trip for him--or most of it. James gets the sense he's leaving some of the events of the past where they belong.

"So I'm thinking first week of May," Barney continues, after he's walked James through his proposal in the snow. "Rob and Diane are letting us use their backyard. Sposed to be a real nice place, when it's not filled to the brim with snow. We gotta coordinate our PTO--I'll text the boss, actually. Gonna owe him a few beers for all this vacation time..." Barney scratches his chin, thinking. He catches James staring and grins, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm happy for you. I didn't think you had it in you..."

"Oh, shut up and ask your boyfriend to be your plus one."

---

Gordon is unpacking his suitcase when someone knocks on his dorm room door. He steps away from his growing pile of laundry and turns to open it, smiling at Maksim.

<Hello!>

"Hi," Maksim says, stepping inside as Gordon swings the door open for him. "How was your trip?"

<Good,> Gordon signs, and then locates his phone to type out the news. Barney and I are getting married!

Maksim reads the message, and his grim expression fades somewhat. "You two?" Gordon nods. "Well, congratulations... When?"

Barney wants the wedding soon... I'm thinking late spring, early summer. Maksim nods silently, and Gordon looks him over, frowns, and types out another message.

What's wrong? You seem tense.

"We need to talk. Come with me." Maksim heads straight back towards the door, and Gordon abandons his unpacking to follow him--out of his dorm, down the hall, to the tram.

Where are we going, Gordon types and shows him, when they've been riding the tram in silence for a while. Maksim glances at the message and looks forward again.

"To human resources."

Did something happen?

"Something has been happening, yes. Are you okay with this Eric? How he treats them--your fiance, and James? Because I am not okay."

Gordon blinks and falters, fumbles to type something out, then stops himself. He shakes his head.

"No? Then we do something. Psychological warfare. Okay?"

Gordon nods slowly, and Maksim lowers his voice.

"I've been threatened. I know Jamie has too. I won't be quiet about it." He stands as the tram nears the station, and Gordon follows him to the doors before they're opened. They step out onto the platform, Maksim leading again.

What are you going to say, Gordon asks, and Maksim shrugs.

"I don't know. Does it matter? I tell them he threatened us. Whatever I have to say to get rid of him."

Gordon grabs his arm and Maksim stops to read his message. You're going to lie?

"I don't have to lie. I'm scared, Gordon," he admits. "But everyone else is too coward to do anything. I don't have proof. But he threatens me..." He waits for Gordon to type out his next message.

Where?

"Outside of the lab."

Tell me what happened. Maksim looks around nervously at that and finally takes Gordon's phone from him and carefully taps out a response. Gordon reads in silence when he's finished, nods, and pats him on the shoulder. He takes his phone back.

Let's go then.

---

The word of two scientists, coupled with the camera footage and audio from the hallway outside the lower lab proves to be sufficient. Eric is given the heads up to put in his resignation, and is unemployed before ten o'clock Monday morning. The boss is furious. The evidence is too damning to deny. The schedule is a mess for that week. For days afterwards, the guards mutter rumors at one another, gossip that there could be a lawsuit incoming. You hear what happened to Eric? Let me tell you over a beer...

But there's no lawsuit. Life goes on. Barney and Gordon set their date, everyone gets their time off requests approved. Things are normal again. Boring... it's easy to be bored to tears sometimes, at Black Mesa, but James doesn't mind that so much anymore. Better than the alternative.

They fly out and check into a nice hotel room, on the last day of April. The weather is good, and it's supposed to last through the wedding. The two of them spend the day before the event together, scoping out Seattle. It's bigger than James had expected, wider and brighter. It reminds him of Black Mesa back when he'd started. He'd thought it was impossibly vast, but now it feels cozy and safe in comparison.

The morning of the wedding, James wakes up and rolls over. Maksim is watching him. "Was I snoring," he asks, still half asleep, and Maksim leans closer and kisses him.

They get ready for the wedding in the late morning, changing into their tuxes. Maksim pulls his hair up and pauses in adjusting his cufflinks to approach and tie James' tie for him.

"Thanks," James murmurs, ducking his head to kiss Maksim.

"Ya lyublyu vas," Maksim says, words that mean nothing to him but that sound so nice. Like a promise. Someday he'll figure out what Maksim is saying to him. Every single thing.

Someday... That's a ways off, isn't it? They're still young now, and it's not like they don't have time. The future isn't going anywhere. James thinks about it on the ride to the Freemans' house. What does he want from the future? A few years ago he wouldn't have had an answer. Hell, he still doesn't, not really. Does anyone ever really figure out what they want before it's too late?

He has some ideas, though. More time with his friends. With Maksim. More time for his family, and less time spent in fear of other people. There's no telling where the future is taking him, taking Maksim, but he thinks that... Well, maybe in a few years, or maybe a few more, it could be him and Maksim exchanging vows. Maybe.

Maksim's hand leaves the wheel, finds his and squeezes.

They'll figure it out, James decides. There's no big rush. As long as they get to stay together, he'll be happy. As long as he's able to hold onto moments like this, he'll be fine.