friends, and all the rest of it

by downthepub (Finnspiration), Finnspiration

Summary:

Archie and Saul have been growing closer lately, and people are starting to get the wrong ideas. Or are they wrong? Archie has some things to figure out.

Notes:

This story has twelve chapters and is about 24,000 words long, unless something major changes in editing.

Chapter 1

Notes:

I hope you'll enjoy this. I had fun writing it. I still love all these characters!

"Archie," said Fritz, in his usual calm, gently accented voice, "will Mr. Panzer be staying the night today?"

Now I ask you.  I looked up from my griddle cakes, orange juice, and coffee.  What would make him ask a thing like that to a man over his breakfast?  I took my time answering.  "He might."

"Only that I would like to have the guest room suitably made up," he said, apologetic and a bit too sincere.  Fritz isn't much of a man for hiding his feelings, whatever he thinks.  He was being tactful—and far from tactful at the same time.

"Sure."  I got up and took my empty glass to the sink and rinsed it out.  I had to think.  I guess he and Wolfe had talked about it, or he wouldn't bring it up.  

Sure, Saul had stayed over the other night.  And once last week, too.  What of it?  Maybe I was getting defensive.  Maybe I had reason to be defensive.  

I'd been seeing a lot of Saul lately.  We'd always been friends, on the job or off.  We'd always enjoyed each other's company, I guess more than almost anyone else's.  Saul never seemed to give me a pain the way other men could, even when Wolfe made a barely concealed effort to pit us against each other.  Saul refused to be pitted, and I'd always liked and respected Saul.  He was good at blending in, and his unassuming appearance fooled a lot of people.  But not me, not anymore.  

Saul's noggin was about as good as Wolfe's, and he could run circles around me if he tried.  The point was he didn't try.  He liked me, too.  The only time we ever really set our wits against each other was playing cards, or a little banter sometimes.  Even that was all in good fun.  

So, Saul had been here more lately.  So what?  I was defensive about it, though, and if Fritz had noticed, before I noticed, that meant Wolfe had definitely noticed.  And now Fritz was being tactful.  Great.  

"Is that any trouble?" I asked, as casually as I could.  

"He is a good man," said Fritz warmly.  "He could never be any problem."  He glanced at me, meeting my gaze briefly.  "To me," he added.

Ah.  So Fritz was worried, and trying to get in front of it.  He thought Wolfe had a problem with, well, whatever it was that was happening with Saul and me.  I couldn't have answered him if he'd asked, and I'd have been mad at him if he'd tried.  

Fritz must have noticed an atmosphere and was trying to get ahead of it.  Or else they'd discussed me, him and Wolfe.  I didn't like that.  They worried about me getting serious about girls, now they were worried about me spending more time with Saul?  It was paternalistic to the extreme, and I could very easily find myself resenting it.  

Of course there was no need to rush to defend myself, or Saul, or anything like that.  Wait and see how Wolfe acted.  Fritz could say what he liked to me, and I would never hold a grudge for long.  He was too sincere, and too kind, and I'd known him too long.  

Even when he put his foot in it, it was only from his gentle and caring nature showing itself in a way I didn't happen to prefer.  Yes, he worried.  And maybe that was all it was—two men growing close, and perhaps he'd seen something I hadn't meant to show.  

Okay.  If that was the case, I'd deal with it.  

But Wolfe, if he talked, now, that could be a problem.  Because I could and regularly did resent things Wolfe said—and sometimes didn't say, just heavily implied—and those words could fester.  We still occasionally brought up arguments from years ago, when one or the other had said or implied something ill-timed.  

It would be more than ill-timed if Wolfe decided to let me know he thought I was spending too much time with Saul Panzer; it would be importunate.  One or both of us might say things that couldn't be taken back later.  It could be tricky.  So, if I could see that, maybe Wolfe could.  Maybe he'd keep his big trap shut.

I had to hope, because I wasn't ready to be grilled about Saul.  I wasn't ready to even look too closely for myself. 

#

It started when Saul was injured on the job.  It was just bad luck.  Saul usually makes his own luck, but that was a tricky spot, and I guess he got out of it better than I could've done, and he survived, which was the main thing.  

Fred, Orrie, and I all ragged him about it, but we also looked after him for a bit.  He didn't say anything about needing help, but he couldn't get around so well for a while, and it wasn't like he had a wife or devoted girlfriend or even family nearby to look after him.  So, I went over more.  I guess I went over a lot more.  

Sometimes I stayed the night.  I could usually kid him into a better mood, even when he was in pain, and at least I could distract him with card games and some tall tales.  We chewed the fat, got drunk, played penny poker with each other and listened to the radio.  

If he drank enough, he'd tell me about his books, his music, his fossils.  Saul had a lot of things to say, if you could get him so he wanted to talk to you.  He could be so quiet and self-contained, it was a pleasure to hear him open up.  I got to liking that.  

By the time he was well, we'd gotten closer and that didn't change, except that he could walk better and he came over here as much as I came over there.  We didn't always spend the night, but it kept happening.  I hadn't thought anything of it.  

Sure, my bed was more comfortable than his couch, but it was all right.  And he was okay here—Wolfe was a good host, so the guest room always had a good bed.  You couldn't complain about the accommodations.

Except, maybe the accommodations could start complaining about you.  Maybe I should stay over there with him more than letting him stay here, despite the couch.  Maybe I had some other things to think about, too.  Naturally being warned off would make me even more stubborn, so it was doubtful anyone would say anything too direct.  I'm like that, I guess.  Wolfe always worries about me getting stubborn about some woman and leaving him to get married.  But that hasn't happened, and isn't likely to. 

I like my life, the freedom, the interesting job, the good food.  I like working for a genius and solving mysteries for a living.  It's a good one, too.  I'm comfortable and have some money set aside.  I enjoy myself, and generally have good company without needing to tie the knot.  There were plenty of girls who like to dance without thinking they needed to hook the man they danced with.  So, I was spending more time with Saul, so what?  It wasn't the same anyway.  I didn't want to think too much about why they might think it was the same sort of thing as when they worried about me with girls I liked.

I liked Saul.  So what.  I'd always liked Saul.  If I was young enough to have a best friend, he'd be it, no question.  Wolfe and I weren't friends, couldn't be while I worked for him and he needed me to needle him to get him working, and he made the sort of decisions that left me in the dark halfway through a murder investigation more often than not.  We were important to each other and our lives were intertwined.  I guess he had a bigger part in my life than I would ever have in his.  There's no denying Wolfe plays a starring role in my life.  He trained me to be who I am today, and make use of what talents I've got and skills I could develop.

I'm more like a footnote in his life.  He's lived what would be lifetimes for anyone else.  Being here in New York, living the life he wants to live with very few concessions to society, is almost like his retirement from all the adventure and drama of his earlier lives.  Reading books and playing with orchids, and eating good food three times a day, plus snacks and beer, is what he wants to do with his life. 

The detective business is his concession to the fact that all of this costs money, at least the way he does it.  So, he exercises his brain.  As little as possible, as rarely as possible, and for the most he can reasonably (and sometimes unreasonably) charge.  And he can get away with it because he's a genius.  Fritz is necessary, and Theodore and me.  We each have our role to play.  

But I can't kid myself it's as big a role as he's played for me, and I can't pretend he's anything but my boss.  In his own way, he cares about me.  It doesn't have to be equal.  If I let myself think about it too hard, sometimes I feel like one of the fancy orchids kept in the hothouse upstairs.  But I don't feel like that often, and almost never at all when he doesn't try to interfere with my romantic life.

And now, possibly, even with my friendships.  Definitely not the same thing, and a big breach of etiquette in our relationship if it was to happen.  I would have to rethink some things, which I didn't want to do, about Wolfe and the lines and professional and personal boundaries between us.  I didn't usually like where my thoughts went, and sometimes I couldn't make myself feel any better about it, at least not for a while, maybe till I'd done something impressive and helped solve a case and earn a big fee for the household.  Maybe something else.  But anyway it didn't lead to a feeling of peace on the old homestead.  

Sometimes, Wolfe has a regrettable urge to think he has some say in my personal life, just because I live under his roof.  But the truth is, I'm my own man in a lot of ways, even if I'm his man, professionally speaking.  Since he doesn't leave the house on business, I'm his arms, legs, eyes, and ears on a case.  

But in general, I'm my own and nobody had better forget that.  It leads to some harsh words sometimes with Orrie, who's deficient in the tact department.  But if he says it, other people think it, at least sometimes, so I occasionally have to demonstrate.

Maybe I needed to spend some more time away from home.  Remind Wolfe that he didn't actually own me.  Of course he might never say anything, and it might just be Fritz who had concerns.  Fritz could have concerns, because he didn't try to control.  If he had serious concerns, which I doubted could ever be the case, since this was about Saul, he could talk to me and we could figure it out together.  It's not like that with Wolfe.  He has a tendency towards cutting remarks.  He tends to give edicts from on high if he isn't kept in line.

Worse, what if he said remarks to Saul?  It was unlikely, sure.  Saul Panzer and Nero Wolfe had a deep level of respect for each other, both personally and professionally.  Saul had been known to drop anything to help us on a case, in a pinch and even when there were no pinches in sight.  As for Wolfe, he had the highest opinion of Saul's brain outside of his own, and possibly one or two he'd known in his time.  Wolfe is not humble when it comes to assessing his own intelligence, and he didn't have anything to be humble about.  But neither did Saul, and we all knew it.  

Yeah, they were friends, I guess.  I guess you can be friends with Wolfe if you don't work with him every day.  All the same, it would make me sore if Wolfe talked with him about spending so much time together, even sorer than if he talked to me.  If I didn't like him horning in on my personal life, I didn't like him going around me, either.  I didn't think he would.  I hoped I wasn't wrong.

All the same, I might need a couple of days away to cool my heels and think about this latest development. 

Notes:

Not accepting critiques/corrections at present, but any other comments are very welcome, and I would be very happy to hear thoughts about the characters (canon on fanon) general thoughts about the stories, etc. (My tumblr, if you don't wish to post here: https://downthepub.tumblr.com/)

Chapter 2

We weren't working on anything serious so it wasn't hard to get time off.  Wolfe didn't enquire closely, but he raised his brows when I said I'd be out of town, without telling him where.  I had to check in every day, and leave a phone number where he could reach me, once I got settled, but that was routine.  Who knows what emergency might happen that might need my skills to help him survive—a crying woman, a drive in a car, possibly a misplaced delivery.  You get the idea.  Real heart-pounding stuff.

Anyway I had my road trip planned.  I would drive until I felt like stopping, and find somewhere comfortable to spend the night.  Sure, I usually stayed in the city, and I'm definitely a New Yorker by choice if not by birth.  I like the city life.  But sometimes it's nice to get away, especially when you have some thinking to do.

It wasn't me that needed to think, but Wolfe, about how much interfering he thought I might tolerate.  But maybe I wanted to think, too.  Maybe I wanted to talk myself out of how I was feeling, like Wolfe was going to be trouble, like the walls were closing in.

But what walls?  It was just Saul.  I was spending more time with Saul, so what?  It didn't mean anything.

We had a ball game to see that day, and I didn't want to miss it.  Also I didn't want to act strange about it, so I went, and I didn't say anything about my road trip till after it was over and we were going back to his place after.  We'd had hotdogs and the usual, so I wasn't hungry, but it was nice to have a drink and to cool off after the heat of the stadium.  The game had been a bit frustrating, too.  I tell ya, sometimes these guys.

"Something the matter?" asked Saul as he made me a drink, lots of ice shaking involved.  I hadn't thought I was making any faces, or any more than usual after a game like that, but this was Saul, so I should've known after all.  He sees clues before other guys see there's anything to look for at all.

"No, but I'm going away for a couple of days.  Road trip," I said.

"Sure," said Saul, like he'd expected it.  I looked at him, trying to get a read.  But Saul's hard to read, when he's playing cards or playing tough, or whatever he was doing now.  All I know is, he can be tough to read if he doesn't want to let you in.  That's why it's so nice when he's an open book.  He gave me my drink, and a nice smile.  "I hope you'll have a good time."

He didn't ask questions, either.  Maybe I'd feel better if he did.  Maybe I wouldn't.

"You want to come along?" I asked, just trying it on for size.  

Saul thought about that.  "Kinda sudden," he said.

"Sure.  If you've got plans.  Don't worry about it."  I got up.  Suddenly I wanted to go, and I didn't know why.  Usually I'd be happy here for hours yet, cluttering up the place, making remarks, chewing the fat, and trying to keep the score on pinochle more or less even.

"I don't have plans, no," said Saul carefully.  "But if you need to get away and think, maybe you don't need company for it."

"That's different," I said.  "You're not company."

He smiled, just a little, but he meant it, and I felt better about everything after that.

"Don't get me wrong.  You can say no.  I'm not going to take offense.  Lord knows I've been in your back pocket a lot lately.  You're allowed a break."

He thought about how to answer that.  It took him a minute.  When he spoke, it was carefully.  He came over and stood in front of me, looking at me.  "I haven't felt that way about it.  I suppose someone's said something to make you feel off about it?"

He was just inquiring.  All I could do was shrug.  Because, that hadn't actually happened.  But it had also happened in a dozen small ways that I was just finally noticing, I suppose.  Fritz was the straw that was just too much for the camel.

"Orrie's been amusing himself with remarks.  Maybe a couple of other remarks from others.  But.  I don't know.  It doesn't bother me.  I didn't take it seriously.  But then Fritz—" I cut off.  I hadn't wanted to tell him that, didn't know why it was slipping out.

"Fritz?"said Saul encouragingly.  "He's made remarks?"  He raised his brows, politely disbelieving.  "Fritz is the nicest guy I know."

"Yeah. He's a dreamboat.  That's the only reason he can put up with the boss for this long.  No, he didn't make remarks.  He just wondered if you'd be staying over more soon.  Like he was worried about it."  

I rubbed my forehead, feeling miserable.  Feeling a bit too exposed.  Because the last thing I wanted to do was care what anyone thought, or let anybody's opinion matter, when it came to Saul, or spending time with Saul.  But even I could see I was spending a lot of time with him, and it had started to matter to me a whole lot.  "Didn't mean to tell you all of that."

"It's okay," said Saul.  "I guess I've heard some, too."  

"You're getting remarks, too?"  That surprised me.  Saul's so self-contained, it doesn't seem like anybody gets one over on him, much less pulls off that kind of remark.

"Sure I get remarks.  I'm older than you and still single.  I'm not seen dancing every other weekend with a beautiful woman.  That means something to some people, I guess."

I had to think about that.  He said it easily, like it was no big deal, not even like he resented me being so unaware.  More like it was just the natural course of events—of course a guy like him got remarks, and a guy like me usually didn't.  It felt like a betrayal somehow, to have him dealing with it and me not even noticing.

He moved to the couch, getting relaxed.  He didn't say anything about it, but I followed him and sat down on one of the big comfortable chairs facing opposite.  Some nights, I'd just have sat down next to him.  

Not tonight.  I hated that, feeling self-conscious about it.  It shouldn't matter.  It hadn't, not for a while now.  I hadn't felt like I had to hide.  Now, maybe I did again.  Maybe I'd even been hiding something from myself, something I was trying not to put a word on even now.

I mean, I'd always liked girls.  Plenty.  I would say a healthy amount.  Some would say a little too much.  It hadn't mattered to me if a man was attractive or not, and I guess it still didn't, because most people would say Saul wasn't blessed in the looks department.  Except, I guess, to me he was.  Anyway, I'd always liked Saul.  

Maybe I'd liked him a little more, after he got hurt, and I realized I could lose him.  That's what it was.  But you don't kid a kidder, and everyone around me was seeing something different.  Maybe I should admit I saw a little something different, too.  Even though nothing had changed, not really.  It had always been there: I liked Saul an awful lot.  That had never felt so complicated before.

"All right, so we'll talk about it," said Saul easily.  "Either you let it bother you, or you don't.  If it doesn't bother you, nothing has to change."  He studied my face, clinical about it.  "But it bothers you, so something has to change.  Either we get distant for a while, or we get subtle about it.  Maybe that means spending a road trip together and keeping it quiet.  I don't know."  He was studying me.  "What do you think it means?"

I studied him back.  "You're okay with that?  You wouldn't just rather drop me and keep your distance?"  I don't know why I put it like that, but he didn't make remarks.  He just nodded. 

"I'm okay with it or I wouldn't have suggested it."  He studied me, his face open and steady, ready to go along with whatever I thought best.

"I'd like the trip," I said at last.  I didn't want to admit I hadn't thought about this angle up till now, or how uncomfortable it made me to have to face it, when apparently everyone else was already being tactful.  I didn't know if having him there would help me think or make it harder to think.  But I wanted him along, and that was kind of the whole point.  I wanted to be with Saul.  I didn't like being separated from him, even for a couple of days.

That had to mean something.  But what?  

It didn't have to mean what they seemed to think it meant—getting a little too close, man to man, if you know what I mean—and it couldn't, or Saul wouldn't be so open and relaxed about it all.  I mean, if he thought I was after him, like skirt chasing, or I guess pants chasing, he'd give me the cold shoulder for sure.  This was Saul he was talking about.  He was nobody's pansy.

And neither, I reminded myself, was I.

It was all just in everyone else's head.  We could take a trip together without being awkward.  Nothing had to change, except how much time we let anyone know we were together.

If he still wanted to spend so much time with me afterwards.  I was fairly sure there was a large enough dose of me that could sour even the warmest of friendships, but I didn't know when I'd hit that mark with Saul.  Hopefully I wouldn't, and wouldn't make too much of a fool out of myself either.  

Wolfe says I show too much of what I'm thinking on my face while I'm thinking it.  He uses better words, of course, but it doesn't make the message any sweeter.  I had a fairly good guess Saul could read me as well as Wolfe, maybe a little better sometimes, in some situations.  But he wasn't saying anything, and he wasn't looking shocked.  He just let me work through it on my own, in my head, and decide what I was going to decide.  One thing about Saul, he never tries to dictate my personal life, his part in it included.

I met his gaze, trying to be brave, even though I'd never needed to be brave to talk to Saul Panzer before.  "Actually, there's a lake cabin I go to sometimes.  Sounds more restful than driving all weekend.  I can swim, rest, get away from the strain of not working."  I gave him a wry look, because I think he was one person who actually did fully understand.  He'd tried to work for Wolfe for a little while, before I came along.  It was hard to be ready to work but have nothing to do, to have a brain you couldn't use on anything and the brain of a genius you couldn't kick start for love or money.

"All right, Goodwin.  Sounds fine to me."

"I'm Goodwin now, am I?"  I'd have cuffed him if I was close enough.  Only maybe that wasn't such a good idea, now.  Cuffing each other, kidding playfully like that, turned into wrestling more often than not.  

Horseplay.  

Nothing wrong with a little horseplay, but all the same just now maybe I shouldn't be touching him too much.  Just till we got all these remarks taken off the table, and nobody was looking at us under a microscope, that's all.  Never mind that there was nobody there to look just then.  I'd have felt it all the same.

Chapter 3

My breakfast was extra delicious the next morning.  Fritz had an air of apology about him, as if he might say he was sorry any minute and level with me.  I tried to be cheerfully oblivious so maybe we could skip that talk.  If he thought I was upset, it would be harder to skip.  Fritz doesn't like to leave things with a cloud over them.  

He likes to solve the problems.  He likes a peaceful household.  Fritz was the heart of the home, if Wolfe was the head.  Me, I was probably the liver.  Or maybe the feet. 

So I stayed cheerful and he never quite took the leap to talk about it anymore.  I was determined not to let Wolfe get into it either, and tried not to let my nerves show, to act exactly as I always do.  Wolfe can usually read me pretty thoroughly, even if I'm trying to be obscure, if that's the word I want.  I was hoping he would decide I was antsy for my vacation and leave it at that.  The worst of it was that I knew the harder I tried to act like nothing was eating me the more he would know that something was.  

I settled for a generally slightly irritable and distracted attitude, which was probably how I'd have seemed if I hadn't made any effort at all, so what does it prove?  Anyway, he didn't talk to me all morning about anything out of the ordinary, in fact mostly ignored me, so I thought maybe I wouldn't have to deal with any well meaning advice.  But after he got down from the plant rooms in the evening, he started on me.  

"I may need you home early from your holiday making," said Wolfe, raising his eyes over his book to pin me.  "Will that be a problem?"

I hesitated, trying to think of the most natural way to answer.  "Sounds like I need a raise, if you can't do without me for a long weekend," I observed, no bite to it.

"Anything is possible.  Will you be able to return quickly and early if necessary?"

"It's not much of a road trip if I have to turn right back around.  I guess I'll manage in case of an emergency, or some work you can't avoid, all the same."

His eyes went back to his book.  I couldn't tell if I'd answered right or not.  I had the feeling that I had, but I'd skipped something.  

I wished I knew for certain that I could outsmart him.  I hated feeling like I was against the ropes with anyone, but especially Wolfe.  I'd worked so hard for his approval, to be up to his standards, and to protect him and help him bring in the dough.  It was annoying to feel like I was under his microscope and failing at it.

I wouldn't like coming home early, but I'd do it.  If there was a distraction of some sort, that would serve as well as a trip away.  If Fritz could let it go, if Wolfe didn't bring it up, and nothing else happened to jar me unduly, I'd get over this screwy feeling, and settle in again.  Like Saul had said, we could just be more circumspect.

Sure, it felt screwy knowing I'd have to guard and hide our friendship, but I guess I could come to see it as a necessary evil, just another complicated facet of modern life where a lot of the times people are playing pretend just to get through the day.  

Everybody's got something to hide about themselves to be more socially acceptable.  I'd just have to learn one more way, that was all.  As long as I didn't get it at home and outside the home, I could adapt.  I'm adaptable, that's me, adaptable Archie Goodwin.

"Will you be unavoidably inconveniencing anyone else should I require you home early?"asked Wolfe, a murmur so low I almost didn't catch it.  

I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it.  "No, sir," I said regretfully.  "You don't get to ask that question.  If it's important enough to inconvenience me, that's all that should matter, not how many orchids or favors I'll owe to make up for it.  And if you want to know if I'm going with someone, then you'll just have to ask."  I stared at him, showing him it would definitely be as a favor, and not one I had to answer, if he asked that question.  

He thought about it for ten seconds, maybe more, but not much more.  He put down his book.  "Are you going with someone?"

The big son of a gun.  "Yes, sir."  More staring contest.

"Ah," said Wolfe, and went back to his book.  

I went back to my typing, maybe a little louder than necessary.  Horning in.  He was horning in.  Not so strange for Wolfe, not really.  What really annoyed me was that I couldn't control my reaction to it.  I had to either authentically get mad at him or just not give a damn what he thought.  Instead I had this nervous grouchy feeling I knew he could pick up on. 

"Perhaps you are wise to get it out of your system," said Wolfe, and turned a page.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.  I hadn't meant to stand up but I was on my feet.

"You are very tightly strung," observed Wolfe.  "If you would like to discuss it, I prefer eyes at a level.  But I will not bandy words with you.  If you want to hear it, very well, you will hear it."  He turned another page, which just goes to show you he wasn't really reading.

"I don't want to hear anything from you.  I'm going for a walk."

I may not have quite slammed the door on my way out, but it came close.

#

The walk cooled me down a bit.  I knew I couldn't let Wolfe get to me.  He wanted to talk about it, and I didn't, which bothered me.  Normally I can meet Wolfe head on.  But I didn't choose to be badgered by him about my personal life, and I didn't want to hear anything he couldn't take back. 

The fact that he was so ready to start a major disagreement was alarming, though.  That meant this had been building, and I hadn't seen it.  That meant he'd been turning this over in his mind for a while, and I'd somehow managed to miss it.

His talk about getting it out of my system.  Whatever he meant by that precisely, I could take a wild guess, and any guess I took wasn't good.  Neither of us had mentioned the name Saul Panzer.  It was barely possible he thought I was going away for a dirty weekend with a girl I was getting serious about.  

I didn't buy it.  He'd be more afraid if it was a girl I liked.  He'd know who it was, probably.  And he wouldn't have things to say that meant he couldn't bandy words.  Wolfe can bandy with the best of them, words or anything else.  

Wolfe was the sort of man who could get entirely the wrong idea about how things were going between me and a girl, a fact I'd always made broad use of whenever possible.  There weren't a lot of things I could do to flummox the big genius, and he needed some flummoxing in his life just to keep him healthy.  

That also meant he got some pretty wild ideas about me and girls sometimes, like that I could get any of them to talk, if I was at my best, and that they were irresistibly drawn to me at all times no matter what.  

I admit I like him thinking that.  I liked to be thought of as an expert at something, and talking with girls was a pretty good thing to be an expert at.  He was alarmed and confused by women when he didn't understand them, which was a lot of the time.  

But this, now.  He hadn't been alarmed, confused, or worried about losing me.  He'd acted like he wanted to warn me.  And face it, if I was giving off the idea to everyone around me that I had the hots for someone, and all I did was hang out with Saul in my off hours, I guess it could look that way.  I should go back there and set him right.  But somehow I couldn't bear to.  I couldn't bear to fight over Saul, to come down to his level and let him have a say in my love life—or friendship life, come to that.

And I couldn't believe he would decide a kind of thing like that about Saul and me, and with no evidence.  He'd made some leaps before, but that was a doozy.  I really should confront him about it.  But I knew I didn't have the nerve in me.  I might go my whole life without getting the nerve for that confrontation.  We'd both have to say things we didn't want to say.  

There might be threats involved, threats of firing and quitting, and they might not end up as threats.  If he'd decided a thing like that about me, what could I say to take it out of his mind?  You didn't change Wolfe's mind easily, and I didn't want to try.  

I didn't want to be misjudged, of course, but I also didn't want to try to wrangle him to have a better opinion of me.  

Maybe, I thought, I really will end up quitting this time.  And then what?  There's no point getting mad at the big bozo, he can't help himself.  He thinks everything I do is about sex.  It was bound to happen; he got himself so convinced that I'm a danger to every living woman under a certain age that he's had to move on to deciding I'm a danger to half the men, too. But what made him think I'd pick on Saul?

#

"Archie," said Saul, raising his brows, polite but too high.  For him that was a major reaction.  "To what do I owe this surprise?"

I shook my head.  "I'll beat it if you're busy.  Just not in the mood to have it out with Wolfe."

"Sure," he said, holding the door open.  "Mind if I smoke?"  He'd been halfway to lighting one of his smelly pharaohs.  

"You gotta have one flaw, to remind the rest of us you're human."  I made myself comfortable.  I didn't get a drink, at least nothing more than a glass of milk.  There's such a thing as day drinking, and I didn't want to head that way.

He'd been keeping milk on hand for me, I guess.  I can't say I've ever seen him drinking it himself, even in coffee.  

"I'm very human," said Saul, and got the deck of cards.  He sat on the couch with me, both of us angled slightly so we could use the card table.  It would've been easier maybe to face each other across it, instead.  Instead, we stayed close, almost near enough for our knees to touch.  Almost.

He was being tactful, but I accepted it gratefully.  My conflicts with Wolfe rarely improved with outside discussion.  And he didn't need to know it was about him this time.

We talked a little, but not much.  I helped him with some of his paperwork for a job.  Nothing major, I just didn't like to be a pest, and he'd said in the past how much he hated paperwork.  It was routine for me at this point, so sometimes I helped out when I was hanging around a lot.  It had all seemed very natural, but now I was trying not to think of it in a different light.

He cooked me a steak supper and we watched Johnny Carson together afterwards.  I stayed the night.  Neither of us talked about it.  I had a drink before bed, but just one.  I slept on the couch, the usual.  

I slept okay.  I always did.  Nothing could change that, even a storm brewing underneath everything.  

It had seemed so normal, so domestic, so easy.  I guess I'd never thought about that much, because it was like that at Wolfe's place all the time.  Men only, easy routines, nothing to write home about.  Saul and I did what we always did and spent comfortable, familiar time together.  But the truth was I stayed over, and he cooked for me, and we spent all evening more or less together, like an old married couple.  

And maybe that meant something different, when it was me and Saul.  But why?  Just because there were a bunch of pearl clutchers in the world didn't mean they were right.  Saul and I were pals, and that should satisfy anybody.  A nice, bachelor existence.  Normal and regular. Didn't mean I wanted to sleep with him.

Chapter 4

Saul's not at his best in the morning.  He often breakfasts on cigarettes and coffee and doesn't want to talk for a while.  I'm no Chatty Charlie in the morning myself, but I need to eat.  So I cook breakfast when I'm over at his place, and make enough so he can have some if he wants.  I don't push him about it, though.  

Today he tried to pick at the eggs, ate half a piece of toast, and was done.  He went out on the balcony to finish his smoke, and when he came back for another cup of coffee, he looked almost human again.  He gave me a half smile.  "Feel better today?"

"Sure," I said.  "One more day before the trip, unless he finds a way to cancel my vacation.  Wouldn't put it past him."

Saul gave me a pat on the arm as he walked by.  See?  How manly can you get?

I shaved and cleaned up before going home.  I don't like wearing the previous day's clothes, so I always kept a couple of spares at Saul's place.  It was handy, and he'd been kind enough to clear me out part of his closet space.  I tried not to rag him much about his wardrobe, but face it, it wasn't doing him any favors, and at his income, he could've afforded better.

"So you keep saying," he said, as he tied his tie in the mirror next to me, ignoring me tolerantly.  "I muddle along."

"Sure," I agreed.  For some reason I wasn't in the mood to tell him he could get more girls interested in him more if he dressed better.  It would've rung a false note, with the things I'd been thinking.  

Before I thought about it, I reached out and adjusted his tie for him.  He stilled his hands, and let me.  I fixed mine next, before I even noticed what I'd done.  It was all right.  Saul didn't mind, but that was a bit odd, I guess.  How often do you go around fixing other men's ties?  

Some guys would've taken a swing at me.  Not Saul.  He was smiling at me in the mirror, mostly with his eyes.  

"We can't all be clothes horses, Archie."

I waved it away.  "You could be anything you wanted to.  I know that."

"Still only human," he reminded me, with a little quirk of the lips.  He headed out to his work and I headed home to mine.  

At least I didn't kiss him goodbye at the doorway and tell him to have a good day at the office.

#

I did my work.  I wasn't distracted or grumpy.

I was regally cool with Wolfe, and did not engage in anything like baiting or arguing, and didn't meet his challenge from the other day to hear all of it.  I wasn't interested, and he didn't like it, but he left it be, only being slightly more grumpy than usual.  I think when he was reading he was actually reading, to give you the idea.  So we were in a truce.  

Fritz was nice but not overly nice, and he didn't fuss or act guilty.  He did make one of my favorite suppers, but that could've been coincidence.  He makes a lot of food that I like.  I'm no gourmand but I like good food.  I made sure to thank him and help clear up the dishes.  I was in a fairly good mood when I headed up to pack.  

Tomorrow thetrip.  It would be good to get out of the house for a while.  It would be good to spend time with Saul, too.  Of course, anything could change, Wolfe could decide he needed me for some chores, and Saul could have something come up that meant he couldn't go away with me.  

Anything could happen, but I felt in my bones it wouldn't.  I got to have this trip, and maybe it would help sort some things out.  If nothing else, Saul and I could talk about how to make sure we got fewer comments and helped people learn to mind their own business.  He wouldn't tell me how to handle Wolfe, he never tried that.  ("After all, you actually work for the guy.  I couldn't cut it."). 

I knew very well that the reason he couldn't cut it was that he had too much self-respect to put up with Wolfe's moods.  But I didn't, and could.  Most of the time.  Saul had perfected the art of staying out of it, which I appreciated.

"Drive carefully," said Wolfe, when he said goodnight to me.  It was no mere nicety from him; he didn't trust moving vehicles.  He thought I was one of the better drivers in the world, and the one he most trusted, but that didn't mean he trusted the rest of the traffic.

"I always do," I told him.

He gave me a smile then, almost an eighth of an inch, which may as well have been a grin from anyone else.  It was sad and fond and maybe laughing at me, just a little.  "Perhaps more carefully than usual, then."  And he took himself to bed after that unanswerable remark.

Okay, so he wasn't actually talking about driving.  Wheels within wheels and all of that.

I took myself to bed, slept, and got up feeling good.  

You know that moment before you're fully aware when you feel that something good is happening that day, that you can hardly wait for it, but you don't remember what it is?  Yeah, I had that.  When I got ready for my day, I was trying not to whistle.  Now, I ask you.

Saul was up when I got there, but not mobile.  I'd eaten Fritz's cooking so I didn't make breakfast there, just toasted him a slice of bread in case he wanted it with his coffee and cigarette.  He said, "Thank you, Archie."

I put our bags in the roadster and came back to fetch him.  "Bad night?" I asked, because he seemed stiffer and more tired than usual.

He shrugged, which meant yes.  

He closed his eyes when I drove, leaning back, letting himself drift.  I was somewhat flattered that he trusted me enough not to need to keep an eye on traffic, but of course he did.  It was no surprise.  That was the thing about me and Saul.  We trusted each other.  We had a special bond.  

I don't know how Wolfe could think I'd pick on him for something like sex.  We were friends, and like Wolfe very well knew, I could get sex if I wanted it, and with someone who wanted it just as much and wasn't ignorant about precautions, thank you very much.

I guess Saul wasn't ignorant about anything he didn't want to be ignorant about, but you get my meaning.  The idea that I'd pick on Saul for that was demeaning to both of us.  Or at least that's how I felt about it as I drove.  

He was a lot more awake by the time we stopped for lunch.  He had a smile in his eyes again, and kept up his corner of the conversation, even if it was not a very memorable one.  We ate burgers and coleslaw at a diner, and it was good stuff.  There are certain kinds of food Fritz can't, or won't, master.  I won't say all American foods make the list, but let's just say they're not his forte.  He's only human, too.

We made it to the cabin before nightfall.  There was no phone but the caretakers of the cabin had one, and it was only about a mile's walk.  I called Fritz to let him know where he could reach me, and asked how Wolfe was doing.

"He is engrossed in books, and not interested in working or discussing meal plans," said Fritz rather sadly.  "I will make something tonight that snaps him out of it."

"Shame I'll miss it," I said truthfully, because Fritz could definitely get Wolfe's attention when he wanted to.  "See you Monday night, unless something changes."

"Of course, Archie.  Give Saul my regards."

So.  That was for sure, then.  That meant Wolfe definitely knew, too.

I said I would and hung up.  We got a few groceries from the little corner store nearby and set up the cabin.  It was pretty comfortable already, we weren't really roughing it.  There was plenty of room, two good sturdy beds, and a nice back porch and view of the landscape.  Woods, birds singing, a lake—picturesque stuff.

Saul wasn't in the mood, I guess, because he only sat out and smoked and looked at it for twenty minutes before he headed inside to read.  I found him there later in his bed, curled on his side under a blanket, deeply engrossed in a novel that was too thick to ever grace my bookshelf.

I asked him what he wanted for supper and it was like he was coming up from under deep water.  He blinked at me a couple of times, and then smiled.  He had a nice smile, reaching all the way to his eyes.  "Whatever you like, Archie."  He went back to the book.

I went for a swim before supper, and came back and cooked, feeling lighthearted and relaxed.  I whistled a little while I worked.  He came and joined me for the finishing touches, and we ate together on the back porch, until the mosquitoes got bad and we had to go back inside to avoid being eaten alive.  

We played cards and listened to the radio and had a drink and went to bed.  Nothing happened.  The next day I lay in bed for a while before getting up.  I could hear Saul across the room, in his own bed, snoring gently.  

I was glad he was sleeping.  He'd been so tired yesterday.  I got up slowly and quietly so as not to wake him, and headed out for another swim before I went about getting ready for the day.

When I came back, walking up wet in my swim trunks and nothing else, because I'd forgotten to take a towel, he was on the porch drinking his coffee and inhaling his cigarette.  

He watched me walk up, not saying anything.  I guess he had his poker face on, because I wasn't getting a read from him at all.  I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and maybe that was the right way.  

If I got to know him too well, for instance, so I always knew what he was thinking, it might cool the relationship.  It certainly didn't make things rosy with Wolfe when I could read him a little too well and it was a little too unflattering for me to take.

I knew I didn't have anything to be ashamed about—not really.  I keep fit.  But I do like Fritz's cooking and sometimes I get a few extra pounds around the middle before I remember I need to be a little more active and work it off.

"It's just winter weight," I told him, sitting down on the porch to drip before I went in for a towel.  "It'll come off soon enough."

His smile was there and gone, but not quite the best one he could give.  This one looked a little strained.  Maybe the sun was in his eyes.  

"Don't fish," he told me.  "You know how you look."

He got up and went into the cabin.  I heard him puttering around.  He got another cup of coffee and came back out with it, and tossed me a towel.  He'd put away his cigarettes.  He sat and drank, closing his eyes against the sun, looking like he might fall asleep again.

"You're really run down, huh?" I asked him.

"We don't all thrive with athletic morning swims," he said, not opening them.  

"Sure.  You want breakfast?"

He shrugged, which was as much of a yes as I was going to get.  I made enough for both of us.

I had the urge to go into town for a movie, and asked him if he wanted to go along.  He shrugged and said he'd rather finish his book.  There was no malice in it, and I didn't take offense, just told him sure and to make sure and save the juicy bits to read to me later.

He replied suitably and I headed out.  

Chapter 5

It was a small town, but there was a cinema, so I saw a movie, one that didn't take much concentration.  I had to think, and this was as good a place as any. 

I couldn't make sense of it.  Things were so normal between me and Saul, but there was this feeling of threat underneath it all, like something could go wrong any minute, with what other people thought, or maybe something we'd do by accident to mess it up.  I didn't like thinking that, of course I didn't.  I like to think Saul and I could get through anything.  But there was this feeling of tension.  

I'd noticed it for sure when I was coming in from my swim, me thinking he was noticing I'd put on weight, him thinking I was begging for a compliment.  It had felt strained.  There was an atmosphere.

Sometimes he got so closed off.  I wanted to reach through and get to him and pull him back, when he got like that.  But nothing was going to tear him away from his book, and really, what did I want?  All of his attention all of the time?  Now that really would be silly.

I made do with movies and thoughts, and I headed back to find him cooking supper for the both of us, shuffling around the cabin in his shorts and t-shirt.  He doesn't dress down a lot.  It was kind of funny to see his actual skin.

"You need a tan," I informed him.  "The natural one isn't holding up to this golden glow."  I held out my arm to compare to his.

He snorted.  "Some of us burn, Archie."

"You burn, you tan, at least you don't look like day old bread."

He threw a roll at my head, and laughed at me.  

I hadn't brought a typewriter, because I don't like to take work with me, but I did get some ideas for my latest approach to telling one of Wolfe's cases for posterity, so I sat down and wrote a few pages after supper.  He came and stood beside me after a while, and leaned down to nudge me with his shoulder.  "Cards, mister?"

"Sure, just a sec."  I finished my sentence, and smiled up at him.  "I never mean to work on my days off," I told him apologetically.

He was shuffling, but not looking at what he was doing, because he was looking at me, and smiling back.  "You literary talent types just have to answer the call of inspiration, I know."

"You get me, you really get me."  I put my things away and settled in across from him at the tiny kitchen table to scalp him from some nickels.  It was a small table.  Our knees brushed when we weren't careful.  In reality, we were usually about even at cards, unless one of us wasn't in top form for some reason.  Today it would probably be me, because I'd been exercising my brain and not getting anywhere with it.  

Even in my writing today, Saul had been in it more than usual.  I realized just how much I was writing about him, and how I always had to find a way to describe him in every book that let you know he wasn't particularly good looking, but it was impossible not to want to look at him anyway.

He took it easy on me and we stayed about even, chatting as we played.  There always seemed to be things to talk about with Saul.  He seemed relaxed and happy.  

I think it was good for him to have a day off, too, even if he wanted to use it to read and slug around.  I told him to go ahead and smoke, and turned on a fan so it would exit the house and not build up a cloud.  At a certain point he got up and fixed us drinks.  

He put on the radio, just for some background.  He looks so good standing there, cigarette in one elegant careful hand, drink in the other, head tilted to hear the radio, giving it his concentration.  

Saul knows about music, I guess.  He can play it pretty well, if he's in the mood and will let you listen.  Didn't happen a lot.  I think it was kind of like baring his soul, for him.  

Before I thought about it, I was on my feet.  "Come on, Saul, let me show you how to really dance."

He turned to look at me and snorted, the curve of his mouth as he spoke making the cigarette flop around.  "You got some nerve.  The way I'm dressed?"

I held out my hands for him to take.  He looked at me.  The music seemed to reach between us.  

Finally he snorted, turned the radio up a little and put down his drink.  He turned to me, and let me take hold of him.  I showed him some of my dance steps, and he let me lead, with a wry smile and a tolerant air.  

"You know I'm never gonna be a dancer like you," he said, letting me take him through the moves.  He didn't come up past my shoulders but our eyes could still meet pretty well.  At some point he got rid of his cigarette so he could concentrate.  

He was good on his feet, and I told him so.  "You could be a great dancer if you'd put in the effort."

"You've gotta love it, and I don't care enough."  But he kept up with me, even on the complicated bits, letting me show him the things he hadn't mastered.  

"I know you're musical," I told him.  "That piano?  You play like a god."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."  The song changed to something slow, and I hesitated for a second, before giving in and doing what I wanted to do: pulling him close.

He hesitated, too, and then let himself be drawn in.  We swayed together.  

"I guess you know what you're doing, Archie," said Saul, against my shoulder as he leaned into me, letting me hold him. It was a question, and also not quite a question.  It deserved an answer.

"I don't," I admitted.  "I don't know what the hell's happening.  But dance with me a little more.  I won't do anything to you Saul, you know that."

Saul sighed and settled against me.  "That's gonna take a ten foot pole to touch, and I'm not in the mood."

"Don't be in any mood," I told him, holding him, letting one hand rest in the small of his back.  It felt good to hold him.  I guess I'd been wanting to do this for a while, maybe a long while.

He looked up at me.  There were questions in his eyes, and a kind of wistfulness.  "So where's it going, then?"

"Not everything goes somewhere." 

He was holding onto me too.  After a bit he gave up and sighed and let himself lean his head against me instead of looking up at me trying to figure it out.  

He felt good against me, like we fit.  It wasn't much dancing at this point, more swaying and holding onto each other.  But it felt like dancing.  It felt perfect.

I can dance without fucking.  I know what I'm doing.  

 

Chapter 6

 

Lying in my bed, while he lay in his across the room, Saul read aloud to me.  Not the dirty parts, like I'd suggested earlier, just some passages he'd liked.  He had a nice reading voice, but I couldn't yawn myself awake enough to keep listening to it.  I fell asleep.  

I'm not like Oscar Wilde, he'd told me once.  I can resist temptation.  I hadn't known what he meant, and after trying to look it up, still didn't really understand what he'd meant by that.  Saul had a way of saying things that could be ironic and could be dead serious, and you didn't always know which one it was.  

I think maybe I wasn't like Oscar Wilde, either.  I didn't even know what I was being tempted with, just that I was doing a damn good job of dancing closer around it all the time.  

I slept.  I guess I dreamed.  I woke up feeling like something was missing, like I'd lost something.  

Nothing was different.  It was our third and last day.  I swam, he smoked, we ate breakfast—I ate, he picked at it.  When he smiled at me, his eyes were tired.

"Did you sleep?" I asked.

"Not so well," he said apologetically.

"You can nap.  We don't have to drive back till this evening."

"I know, but it's the last day.  Archie, we should talk."  His voice was gentle, but tough, too. 

"What's there to talk about?" I asked, but we both knew.  I got up and took dishes to the sink.  "So, we danced."  I shrugged.  "It's dancing.  It's not against the law."

"Well, it is," said Saul gently.  "I mean, in public."

"We weren't in public."  I studied the sink, keeping my back turned to him.  I wished we weren't going to talk about it.  What if this was what made it break?  What if I lost him, because we had to talk about it?  No, because I'd had to dance with him.

"You didn't exactly say no," I reminded him.

"Well, Archie, I don't think I'm ever going to say no to you," he said with a sigh, like he was explaining kindergarten stuff.  "That's part of the problem."

"Is there a problem?"

"I guess there isn't, but you don't want to look at it, so maybe that's the problem.  See?  I don't care.  It's good.  I'm fine with all of it.  Whatever you want or don't.  I'm not going anywhere.  But you can't even look at it, and it's hurting you.  Archie.  Wolfe wouldn't be getting to you so much if you could just look at it, and not care."  He was by my side then, and touched my elbow.  I looked at him.  I wasn't trying to let my eyes get wet, I swear.

"I like girls," I told him in a voice that sounded too small, too scared.  "I always did.  I thought we both did."

He shook his head, gentle and tough, and not letting me hide from it.  "I don't think there's ever been a girl I could feel that way about."

I thought about that.  He was baring his soul to me, I realized.  And maybe he didn't expect it to go well.  But he'd been patient, and he'd been open to letting me call the shots, and now he was laying the cards out, so I could see none of it was a bluff, not one single bit—on his part.  What about mine?

"I like you an awful lot, Archie.  I'm always going to.  We can stay friends, or keep doing whatever this is we're doing.  I don't mind.  I'll take what I can get and be grateful.  But why not be honest about it?  This is going somewhere, isn't it?  You think you can hide it, but you can't hide it, not really.  You're awfully tender with me, Archie."

"And that says it all, does it?"  I was trying not to cry, and not quite succeeding.

"It's not the end of the world," said Saul.  "And we don't have to do anything about it.  Things can stay just like this.  But let's be honest, sweetheart.  I'm awfully stuck on you."  And he leaned his head against me, like we were dancing again, and he trusted me to hold onto him and not let him fall.

"It doesn't feel bad," I told him.  I had my arms around him somehow, and was trying not to cry on him, and he was holding onto me, too.  "It doesn't feel bad, or wrong.  I thought—I always thought it was different, maybe that's why I couldn't see it.  I just feel close to you, and I like you and want to be around you.  I like looking at you and talking to you.  I didn't think it had to mean anything.  I didn't think it had to get to touching.  I thought—well, we're just close, and Saul gets me, and it's nice to have a friend."

"Sure," said Saul.  "It's always nice to have a friend.  You won't be branded with a scarlet letter if you want more than that.  It will have to be circumspect, but we can swing it.  I think we can swing it.  But you gotta know what you want.  Because I really can't decide for you."

"I have no idea what I want," I told him.  "I can't think of it like that—like—like girls.  I just want to be close to you.  I want to be closer than I've ever been."

He took a deep breath, like he was getting ready to dive into deep water.  "Well, we could swing that.  And you could decide what you think about it, in practice rather than theory."

Saul's hands on me, Saul, with his careful hands and his warm laughing eyes, naked in bed with me, touching.  It was a lot to think about, maybe because I'd been consciously not thinking about it for so long.  I was looking at him, and he met my gaze, steadily staring back.  Not backing down.  

"The offer's on the table, but there's no ultimatum, no expiration date.  This is up to you, what you want."

"And you'll be satisfied, if it's nothing?"

He shrugged.  "I'm satisfied now.  I just spent three days with my favorite guy in the world.  He taught me to dance and taunted me with his swimming muscles."  He grinned, showing a hint of his crooked teeth, and the sharp one at the corner.  "Like I said, I'll take what I can get."

There was a warm feeling up and down my spine.  I guess I knew I was his favorite, sure, out of the poker gang, maybe his professional colleagues, but not like that, not all the way.

In the end, it was easy.  I leaned down and kissed him.  He met me halfway, careful with it, careful with me.  I was bigger and stronger, but he needed to be careful with me, not vice versa, like I'd thought.  

This wasn't about me pouncing on Saul, being some kind of letch, going after guys the way I wouldn't go after women, hard and dirty and taking.  It had never been about that, I guess, and getting that mixed up in my head was maybe what made it so hard to see.  

I was falling for him, as soft and sweet and impossible as falling for any girl.  I could never quite see it till it was too late to keep myself from falling.  But he'd seen, and he wanted to catch me, if I wanted this.

At any moment, I could turn and walk away or even run, and he'd let me.  That struck me as a strangely noble way to approach it, and it made me want to give him something nice, instead.  I didn't know what that would look like, or feel like, but the kiss was a good start, and it felt just right.

I could feel himself holding back, not letting me feel too much how he wanted this.  He kissed well, and he backed off as soon as I did.  

"So what's it like?" I said.  "I mean, when it's feelings.  Do you just touch each other's dicks or what?"  I felt my face was red, but I had to ask.  "Or is it like that prison stuff as well?"  I'd heard things, I'd read things.  I didn't know.  It had all sounded bad, real bad.

He shrugged.  "It depends what anyone wants.  I'd like to touch your dick, and I think you could enjoy it.  I won't ask for anything you don't want to do."

"Ask for it?"  I was confused.  "What, you mean like guys ask for that?"  I made a crude gesture, to try to say what I meant without saying it.  

"Sure, it can feel good if you know what you're doing."

I stared at Saul.  He'd done that?  He'd been up some guy's—or maybe had some guy up his—he'd said it felt great.  So did he know, for sure, from personal experience, that it felt great with the right guy, the right skills?  

I guess Saul is an expert at anything he wants to be, because he'll put in the time to learn.  It gave me a funny feeling to think of him learning all of this stuff, and not with me.

"I'm not asking you for anything you don't want to do or don’t feel good about.  I'd be happy to touch you.  If you're done, and we table it, that's okay, too."

He was being so patient with me.  I would expect nothing less from him, of course.  He'd always been good to me.  Patient, when I needed to learn something.  Quiet, when I needed to talk.  Funny and warm when I needed a friend.

I had to ask.  "Will we feel differently about each other, if we do something?  I don't want to wreck what we've got."

He shrugged.  "It hits some people that way, if you're too ashamed.  I've had longer to get used to the idea.  I'm never going to stop liking you, Archie.  I guess you could damage it, if you decided to haul off and take a swing at me after, or go tattling to someone."  He looked at me with his clear gray eyes.  "But you know I trust you."

Yeah.  I knew that.  "I trust you too," I admitted.  I took a deep breath, like I was going diving, too.  "Why don't you show me some easy stuff, and we'll see if I like it, and can learn to do it for you?  Just easy stuff, mind."

"Sure," said Saul, and he smiled.  It reached all the way to his eyes.

#

Getting naked with Saul was an experience.  He had a shyness about him that I hadn't expected, after all that frank talk.

He seemed to want to look at my body without me inspecting his.  He moved away from me a little when I tried to touch the scar near his ribs.  "Don't look at that," he said.  "I know I'm no beefcake."

"Just let me see you," I told him.  "I want to see, you never let me see you."

He rolled his eyes at me and held out his arms, as if to say "see? nothing much," but I wanted to look.  His dick was half hard already so he wasn't as unaffected as he tried to look, either.  I ran my fingers here and there, and felt his flesh shudder under me, and his breath grow quicker.  "You like that?" I asked him, real quiet.

"Yes," he said back, just as soft.  "You gonna tease me to death?"

"Didn't know I could," I admitted, and leaned in to kiss his shoulder.  

He took hold of my arm, tight.  "Tell me.  Tell me I can touch you," he said, urgent and low.  

"Let me touch you first," I said, because it wasn't often I got to see Saul like this, all raw edged and hungry.  "Tell me how to do it, if I'm not doing it right."

He made a soft little groan, but he let me.  I stood behind him to get a better angle, and touched his dick, letting myself press up against his back, and get a little more turned on at the sight and feel of him reacting to me. 

It wasn't so bad.  It wasn't so different from touching myself.  He was real quiet.  I handled him well, I think.  He was silky and warm to the touch, urgently vibrant and vital.  I played him like a violin, and let him get relief before he got too desperate. 

I couldn't get him to make a noise, and maybe that was for the best.  It seemed to be the only bit of control he had.  He almost collapsed and I had to hold him up, after.  

His hands were shaking, and he tried to control his breathing, biting his lip.  He couldn't talk, or maybe he didn't want to.  He didn't want me looking at him, though.  

When I tried to turn him around and study his face, he hid it against me, pressing against me hard, his body hot and slim and his cock soft and warm now.  I was getting more turned on, but I didn't know if I wanted him to touch me yet.  I wanted to see his face.  When he reached for me, I stopped him and tilted his chin up.

"Look at me," I told him

"I'm feeling real exposed right now. Can I touch you yet?"

I still wasn't sure.  I knew his skilled, strong, clever hands would feel good, but something was making me hold back.  I wanted to study him, I wanted to understand it.  And I didn't.  I wanted to touch him some more, to figure it out.  If I let him show me his skills, it would feel good, but it would turn off my brain and I'd be putty in his hands.  I didn't know if that would help me make sense of it or make it worse.

He met my gaze, steady, and took a step back.  He dropped slowly to his knees in front of me.  "Let me give you something good," he said.

I felt hot, strange.  "Not like that, not the first time," I protested, trying to draw him to his feet.  He let himself be helped up but his eyes were ashamed and he turned away now.  "You don't want me near you.  Okay.  Okay."  He swallowed, forcing himself to nod.  "I said I could take it and I can take it."

"It's not that.  It's just new.  It's just new, Saul."  I put a hand on his shoulder.  He was trembling, just a little.  I took his hand and guided it to my dick, letting him handle me now. 

It felt different, and good, and strange and new and wonderful.  I'd had hand jobs before, and I'd had girls pretty worked up while they gave them to me.  But Saul was good, and he was only a little clumsy at first, before he hit his stride.  He'd been willing to do the French, and I guess I almost let him, but this was better, for starting out.  

I wasn't as quiet as he'd been.  After, he went and washed his hands and came back with a smile and a wet cloth to help me clean up.  He didn't put any clothes back on and neither did I.  

I drew him over to sit on my bed next to me, and put an arm around him.  "You okay, Saul?"

"Sure," he said.  He leaned into me.  I wanted to kiss him some more, but I just rubbed his back for a while, and held him.  It was strange to know he needed a lot more comfort than I did right now, without knowing exactly why.  

After a while we got under the covers stretched out together, and that seemed easier for him somehow, maybe made him feel less like he was being inspected.  But I was still inspecting, and touching, everything I could.  

"You're a real curious guy," said Saul with a kind of strain in his voice, and I finally noticed just how worked up he was getting again.

"The great Saul Panzer, hot and bothered," I told him, and laughed.

"Are you always like this?" he asked, and rolled me over and tried to hump against my thigh.  

"Shut up and kiss me," I told him.

I hadn't meant to make it a wrestling match, but my body sort of took over, and I got him off me and under me and held his desperate hips down, just because I could.  He was slim and sleek, and kinda bony in spots, but I admit it all felt good under my hands.  He had no interest in getting me off him, or I guess he could've, for all I'm bigger and stronger.  

He let me make him submit to him, and study him and touch him, and get some kisses before I gave him what he wanted.  

I rolled him over finally onto his side and lay with my front pressed against his back, working him with my hand, jerking him off with strong, steady movement, not gentle.  

He was whimpering a little by then, desperate and leaking, and not calm, cool or collected at all.  I loved seeing it.  I really loved taking him apart like that, even if it felt a little wicked, too.  

He made a noise this time when he came, and I felt better for getting it out of him.  He'd gotten enough out of me, I wanted to get more out of him, too.  By that time, the wriggling and writhing, had me feel some more things, too, and I thrust myself against the back of him, pushing between his thighs, holding out him tightly.

"I didn't bruise you did I?" I asked after, panting.

"Who knows?"  He was panting hard, too, and wanting to kiss me, hard and hungry and happy.  "Who cares?"

We spent the day more or less in bed, and I made him let me touch him till I was satisfied, touching his ribs, his knees, his elbows, his scars.  He let me study him, and hold him down and kiss him till he was begging for more.  I didn't know I had it in me to get this kind of reaction from anybody, much less from Saul, and I took full advantage.

He submitted to me every time.  He wanted me enough that he'd give in and let me look at him, let me touch him, let me hold him down till he was desperate for more. 

He was a good kisser.  He was good at the rest of it, too. I guess he'd had some practice.  We both got a lot more practice that day.

Needless to say, we didn't drive home that night.  We did eventually sleep, though.

 

Chapter 7

"Did I leave marks?"  I met his gaze in the mirror.  He looked self-conscious, maybe even nervous this morning.

"Nothing worth worrying about."

"Let me guess.  I pushed you too hard, now you're going to be shy of me.  If so, it's my own fault.  I enjoyed that, but maybe you didn't."

"You know I did."  He cleared his throat, and had to look away.  "It was -- good.  Archie.  Real good.  Just.  Only in bed, okay?"

"Sure," I agreed quickly.  I never wanted to push Saul around, not really.  It was just hard to resist in bed, apparently.

"You'll know it if I don't like something," Saul informed me.  "I'm not usually that, um, vocal."

"You're embarrassed about that?"  I was surprised.  "It's supposed to be a little wild, when it's good."

He shrugged, but he didn't want to look at me.  We had breakfast before we went, anyway I did.  He picked at his toast and smoked like he needed it.

"You want to drive?" I asked him, so I wasn't being pushy.

"No, you're good at it."  

He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing shallowly in the car.

"I know you're not asleep, mister," I told him.  "Your hands are twitching.  Go ahead and smoke."

He cast me a wry look, and lit one up.  "I thought you'd be the one who freaked out, if we ever did that."

The wind was in his hair, and it looked nice like that.  He smoked like he needed it.

"Maybe I will," I admitted.  "There's a lot to figure out, I know that.  I don't know how long it'll take."

"You're doing pretty well so far."

"Well, the things outside of bed, too," I told him.  "A lot to figure out."

"We've just got to be circumspect.  You can't stay over as much, I guess."

"That's not very fair," I pointed out.  "Now I've got more reason to stay over, and I can't."

"You can.  Just not all the time.  We've got to be cautious, if we keep doing this."

Ah.  That was it.  That's why he was nervous.

I took a deep breath.  "Well, I'd like to, if you would."

"Sure," he said, quick and quiet.  "I'd like that, too."  He didn't look at me, and his hands were fumbling with his lighter.

I reached over and put a hand on his arm, gentle with him.  "Am I making you nervous?  I'm not trying to."

"You're a champ.  You're doing amazing.  I just don't know what it's going to be like.  I never had anybody.  Um.  Who wanted me in the day, you know.  Not just for a couple of rounds.  You know?"

"Why not?" I asked.  "You're great."

He didn't say anything.

"I don't get it, Saul.  You're a catch."

"I'm really not," he said quietly.  "But okay.  You want to catch me, you got me.  I'm in the net, boy.  Take it easy on me.  I'm having a little moment here.  I don't know what's going to happen, if you're going to change your mind, what Wolfe might do to put a spoke in it, if anything, what might change and what might get wrecked.  Sex can be dangerous, you know.  It changes things."  

He looked at me, studying me.  "You've always treated me with respect, Archie.  I appreciate that.  If this changes things, if you can't look at me the same way, that'll be tough.  I'll get through it, but it'll be tough.  You've always meant a lot to me."

"You've always meant a lot to me, too," I told him quietly.  I took a deep breath.  "Nothing changes, okay?  We're pals.  I'm wild about you.  But I'm still learning and I know it."

"You're a fast learner," said Saul, a little uncomfortably.  "I won't be enough to do it for you forever, and then I'll have to get used to that, too."

"What, other guys?"  I was startled.  "What would I want with other guys?  You're plenty, Saul."  I held back words about him being a real handful; he didn't need to hear anything else to make him self-conscious.  His heart was on his sleeve for me, I guess, and he seemed raw and vulnerable about it.  

"You need lots of girls," he pointed out.  

"That's mostly dancing," I said dismissively.  "You can't dance with one girl all the time unless you mean to marry her.  You've got to switch it up."

He stayed quiet.

"It's different with us," I added.  "This is serious and personal.  Not for display.  But serious all the same.  Right?"

"Right."  He cleared his throat.  "Right."  He was smoking again.  "You'll let me know what Wolfe does or says?  If I need a heads up?  Do you want me to go in with you?"

"Not like this," I pointed out, not particularly polite.  "You're a wreck, Saul.  He'd blame me for it.  He already thinks I debauch half the female population.  You'd get it in his head that I've now debauched half the males in the county, too, and he'd never change his mind about it.  No, I can handle Wolfe.  And if I can't, I'll be on your doorstep like a bad penny.  Don't worry about that."

"Well, I do.  You don't need to uproot your life for me.  I hope it doesn't come to that."

I hoped not, too.  I drove him home and went in with him for a few minutes.  I kissed him some more, and things progressed.  

I know it was all pretty new, but all the same, I was starting to figure some things out. I was starting to think there wasn’t going to be anything Saul wanted to do that I didn’t want to learn to do with him. I don’t mean just the French.

We held each other, after, for a while.  I knew I was late back to work.  I knew I was pushing it.  But I didn't want to go, to leave him like this, with his sober eyes looking at all the possible future dangers I couldn't see yet, and the few that I could.  They were like sharks swimming in the water we’d dived into, waiting up ahead.

"You want to eat before you go, or save up for Fritz's food?"

"I wish we could both have Fritz's food," I told him, and gave him another kiss.  "Chin up.  It'll be okay."

"I'm a big boy," said Saul.  "You don't have to lie to me."

"You're not that big," I said, and made as if to pinch him.  

That gave me a smile, finally, as he dodged, his mouth wry and his eyes laughing at me.  "Don't start something you don't have time to finish.  Go on, now," he said.  "Don't make me get a broom and shoo you."

I laughed, and I went home.  The brownstone looked the same, but I felt totally different.  I'd opened a new chapter in a new book, and that made the things around me feel different, too.  

I looked around my home, and wondered if I'd still be here in a week, a month, a year from now.

Fritz met me in the kitchen and gave me a cautious look.  

"You are late, Archie.  He worried."

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll have words about it.  I wasn't exactly in the mood to rush home."

"I am sorry for what I said.  I always seem to say the wrong thing to you, Archie, but I do not mean to, I promise you."  He was so genuinely contrite.  I made noises to reassure him, and ate plenty of what he'd saved me from lunch.  

"He will be down from the flowers soon," said Fritz, nervous in a way that made me nervous.  "Will you speak to him, or…?"  

When I didn't say anything, he said, "Please do not misunderstand.  I do not want explanations.  I am happy for you, whatever you choose to do.  But Wolfe, sometimes he prefers the direct approach…". He shrugged, that expressive shrug he does.  "If you are direct, he may be more reasonable.  I do not say he will be reasonable, but I think he would be more reasonable in time."

Just how readable was I?  I was surprised, and didn't love it.  But I guess I'd been obvious for a while, hadn't I?  Fritz had had time to get used to it, okay.  Maybe Wolfe would need more.  It was good to have an ally, even if I'd rather it wasn't necessary.

"I'll try to read the tea leaves," I told him.  "I'll make up my mind when I see him."

I was seated at my desk and waiting for him when he got down.  He greeted me with a gruff, "You're late."

"I owe you an apology for that, and you'll get it someday," I told him.  I looked at him straight on.  He'd been heading for the bookshelf, but there was a slight hitch in his step when he saw my eyes.  I was looking at him straight on, no apology there in my gaze.  For an instant, he shut his eyes.  He heaved in a bushelful of air and released it.  

"I see," he said, and his lips were tight.

I don't know how Wolfe could know things just from looking at me, but anyway he could.  There was a reason he was the genius and I worked for him, and not the other way around.

"I wonder," I said, just for something to say, and because I did wonder.  Of course being Wolfe he'd have an opinion, and of course, being Wolfe, he'd find a way to make sure I knew it.  The question was whether relations could continue on as normal afterwards.  That's all.

He got a book and seated himself, but he did not look comfortable.  He looked as if his dog had died.  "I wanted you to be safe," he murmured.  Did you not run enough risks in your life?"

"That's my business," I said, just as quiet, just as serious.

"Yes," he agreed.  "And you must run fewer risks in other areas if you will make more in this one."  He met my gaze, steady, serious, heavy.  "It will not be easy in this place, Archie.  I would not have you lose your joie de vivre for the need to hide and sneak and practice deception."

"I'm a detective.  I'm sure I'll be great at it."

"Indeed.  You must not antagonize the police more than necessary, when they will have a lever to use against you, should they discover it."  His eyes were about as serious as I'd ever seen them.  "You must be particularly circumspect in public.  Above all you must continue to dance, and there must be no gossip—no hint of gossip.  We shall have to be careful, very careful, Archie."

"We?"  I raised a brow, mostly because he couldn't do that, not just one anyway.  "So I'm not fired?"

"Pfui.  You are necessary, and you shall need my protection now more than ever, unless I am much mistaken."  He closed his eyes and leaned back, drumming his fingers gently on the desk, which for him meant extreme agitation.  "You must have excuses to see Saul, of course, that are not remarkable.  You must not be in the public eye as much.  You must dance, Archie.  You must dance a great deal.  Perhaps I can arrange for Saul to be hired here more often, to take on some of the household tasks.  That will at least provide a semblance of cover.  I shall have to think."

I was stunned, and rather touched.  "Gee, boss," I said, trying not to show too much in the words.  "You really do care."

He opened his eyes, just long enough to glare at me like a cat, and then shut them again.  "Your attitude has not improved, I see."  And he snorted.

 

Chapter 8

"Saul?  Me."  I was on the phone from my room, not long after the surprising discussion with Wolfe.  I wanted to have this conversation alone. 

"Archie?  How's tricks?"

"Surprisingly good.  I'll be in touch.  Wolfe is thinking of excuses to have you over more."

"Well.  That's a surprise."  And I could hear in his voice that it really was, that of all the things he'd gone over that could happen, that hadn't even occurred to him.  "Huh."

"Huh is right. He's still a surprise, after all these years.  I'll see you soon, either way."

Saul cleared his throat.  "I'm going to be unavoidably detained from the poker game this week.  Lots of work, things to do."

"Right," I said slowly.  He was already going into the mode of caution and secrecy then.  I guess he was afraid something would show on his face if we were together in front of the guys, and for long enough to get comfortable and start betting and telling tall tales.  Or maybe he was afraid I'd show something.  There had already been the remarks for Orrie.

There was only so much we could say or even hint over the phone, but I guess I wanted reassurance.  "You think that'll be a problem that happens often?"

"I just have some things to catch up on," said Saul.  And maybe he did.  He'd given me an awful lot of his time lately.

"Sure.  Let me know if you need help with any paperwork.  I'm good for that."

"You're good for lots, Archie.  Good night."

"Good night," I told him, and rang off smiling.

I went to bed feeling good.  Things were going better than I'd thought they could.  We'd gotten through several crises so far, and looked to be very nearly in the clear.

As long as I could keep my face arranged around Saul, and he could do the same, why, we might just have a chance at making this work.

#

Between one thing and another, I didn't see Saul for a few days.  I missed him at poker, but nobody else reacted visibly, except to remark that they might get to win a game or two now.

"With the professional scalper not here," said Orrie, looking at me as he said it.

I bit back words I could've replied with, how the only person I'd ever caught trying to cheat in our friendly games was Orrie.  Saul wouldn't even cheat to save his last dollar, and as for scalping, well, they should learn not to bid against Saul when he was in good with Lady Luck.

Fred glanced at me and said, "Come on, Orrie, the rest of us can still beat you pretty easily."

That turned out to be true.  And I enjoyed it.  But not as much as I would have if Saul had been there with us, trading remarks and grins.

He was missing the next week, too.

"I'd feel better about it if he was here," said Lon.  "I don't like the numbers like this.  We'll have to find another guy, if Saul stays too busy."

"Sure," I agreed.  "I'm sure work will ease up at some point."

"Yeah, or maybe he just doesn't want to see your ugly mug," said Orrie, giving me a short, sharp nod.  He had an ugly expression.

"Me?  What did I ever do to anybody?"  I put on the wounded mug, and gestured to my chest.

"Have you seen him?  Have you talked?" asked Lon.  "Maybe something's wrong."

"He's busy," I said.  "I tried to get him to agree to come next week, but he wouldn't commit."  That was the truth.  I'd talked to him on the phone, but only barely gotten to see him since our little trip.  I didn't know if he was actually busy or if he was gun shy, or just trying to cover his tracks.  

I missed him, but I let him hold the reins here.  He needed to be comfortable, and to know I'd respect his decisions.  If he said no go to poker, I'd have to accept it, even though it was not really very much fun without him.  I like poker; I just like any activity a lot more with Saul present.

"We should finish up this hand and go see him," said Lon, who loves a scoop.  

I gave him a look.  "What are you, nuts?  I'm sure Saul will love it if we show up on his doorstep unannounced."

"You would know," said Orrie.  I turned to glare at him, and opened my mouth to respond.  

"Come on," said Fred.  "You're all worse than a bunch of old women, gossiping and backbiting.  Lay off it, Orrie.  So Saul and Archie are on the outs.  Don't make a big deal about it."

"We're fine," I said.  "I guess he can have his own life without it being my problem."

"Sure," said Lon, being agreeable.  "Let's play, come on.  Deal."

So we left it for that week, but it really had been too long since I saw Saul now, so I made an excuse up to go over and see him the next day, and took it, hoping he would be home and willing to see me.

I went early, just in case.  Easier to get a hold of him before he was truly awake, and he might not have a veneer on him.  He might be honest with me, if it was something I did.

I knocked, and waited, and heard him shuffle to the door, fumble with it, finally get it open.  He looked terrible, in his ratty old dressing gown, dark circles under his eyes.

"Archie."  He looked surprised—maybe more than surprised, maybe shocked.  "Come in.  What's up?"  He held the door open and stepped back.

I gave him a smile and stepped over the threshold.  "Long time no see.  You awake?"

"Awake enough, sure.  Something for Wolfe?"  We got the door shut behind us and the facade stopped.

"What's up?" I asked, low, without a smile.  "You're staying away from me, from poker, from Wolfe.  I thought we were okay."

"Sure, we're okay.  Just laying low," said Saul, running fingers back self-consciously through his uncombed, messy hair.  His eyes looked self-conscious, too.  

"The boys think we're on the outs, and Orrie still makes remarks," I informed him.

Saul rolled his eyes.  "Orrie," he said dismissively.  "It's not that.  I can't get my face right, and I need to get my face right for poker."  

"You'll be fine.  You're good at poker, even at your worst."  I stepped forward and started to reach for him, then stopped myself.  "Is this okay?"

"I'm not fit for man or beast in the mornings, you know that Archie."  He paused.  "But yes."  He didn't make a move for me, but waited to see what I'd do.  I took him in my arms and held him, and gave him a kiss.

He let me, but he didn't really respond. After a moment he pulled free.  "You want breakfast?  I might have some groceries in there."

"I ate," I told him.  "You putting me out in the cold, Saul?"

He shook his head.  "I want everyone to think we're not real close, everyone but you.  Is it working?"

"It might be working on me, too," I told him, lounging in the doorway.  "I'd like to be close, Saul."

"I'd like that, too."  He went to get more coffee, and took his cigarette out onto the balcony.  When he came back, he looked more awake.  "I'm not in good form this morning.  Can I see you later?"

"Sure.  Where and when?"

He looked at me, trying to judge it.  "Here.  But not for long, and you can't stay late.  We have to be careful."

"Sure," I agreed.  "With all the talk with Wolfe, would you be willing to stay over sometimes, if he can figure out an excuse that flies?  I admit he hasn’t been in a hurry to do the inviting, but I think he meant it."

"If he says it, I'll do it," said Saul.  "You know that about me."  He looked at me, and then I saw the insecurity again, the uncertainty.  "I guess you know that about me, now.  If you say it, I'll do it, too.  But that doesn't mean I think it's safe, and I care a lot about safe right now.  I want a chance, Archie.  A real chance—some way to make it safe and make it work."

"I don't think it's going to work if you keep hiding from me," I told him honestly.  "How can I be invested if you keep pulling back?"

"I'm sorry.  I'm not trying to.  I need you to be safe, Archie."

"You're jumping at shadows, but it's about me?  C'mon, pal.  Let me shoulder my own risk.  I know what I'm getting into."

"Do you?"

"I'm not a child, and you don't need to shield me.  Let me be in your life.  Come on, figure it out.  Use your brain, and we can find a way.  I know it."

"I wish I had your confidence.  I'll try and make a better plan than holding off for now.  You're not patient enough for that to work."

"Low blow," I told him, wincing.  "I can be patient, if it makes sense.  I guess I just don't see it.  I guess I see you getting a case of nerves, and if you're getting cold feet, I wish you'd say so.  I'm a big boy.  I can take it."

Saul shook his head.  "Wrong tack.  You're being mean, even if you don't know it.  I don't like that, Archie.  Don't be mean with me.  I can't take it, not from you."  He turned and went into the other room.  When I followed him, he was smoking like he needed it.

"Okay, I'm making you nervous.  Explain it to me, Saul?  I'm not throwing down ultimatums and lines in the sand.  At least, I'm not trying to.  What's up?"

He shot his gaze at me, and said very quietly, "You're pushing."

"Am I?"  I stopped.  I'd been walking up to him, but now I didn't move.  I thought about what he'd said, about how pushing in bed was okay, but the rest of the time, I needed to trust his judgment.  I swallowed.  "I didn't mean it that way.  I just don't want you to forget about me, and if you change your mind, don't keep me on a string trying to guess."

"I won't do that," said Saul very quietly.

I nodded.  "All right.  I just have to trust you, then.  Invite me when you want me to come over.  I won't be here till you do."  I started back towards the door, trying not to mind it.

"Archie," said Saul, his voice a lot kinder than it had been a moment ago.  "I'm not—come on.  I'm not laying down the law and telling you to like it.  You have a say, too.  I'm not being fickle.  I have concerns, that's all."

"Sure, you've never fickled in your life."  But I let him draw me back, and into his arms.  He was shy of me, I wasn't imagining that, but he wanted me, too.  He just didn't feel safe, and I didn't know how to make him feel safe.

After we kissed for a bit, I asked, "You want to take this to bed?  Or no?"

He shook his head, regretful.  

"Will I be invited over soon?" I asked.  "Or at least see you at poker next week?"

"Sure, I'll be there.  I'll call you if it seems safe.  Tonight, or soon."

I had to be content with that, but it was difficult.

Still, as I'd said—I was a big boy.  I could take the rough with the smooth, and Saul had the right to call these shots and say no dice.

He didn't call that night, though.

It was awful to miss him, and need to be close to him, and not be able to.  I was so relieved when he called the next day, after lunch. 

"I've finally got an evening free, if you don't have anything scheduled," he told me.  "Come over and shoot the breeze, if you don't have plans."

"Sure.  I'll see you.  What time's best?"

"Whenever.  Just let me know if you're eating there or here, so I cook the right amount of food."

"Sure," I said, smiling, hoping my heart wasn't beating so hard he could hear it over the phone line.  "I guess I could eat with you.  Should I bring anything?  Wine?"

"Just show up," said Saul, and hung up on me.

The so-and-so.

I laughed, and hung up as well.

It was good.  It was normal for us to spend time together, and we needed to be normal.  Less time together was still some, and I was so grateful to be going to see him, to have the evening together, that I took too long picking out my clothes for the evening, and got self-conscious about it.  It shouldn't look like I was dressing for a date, even though I was.  I changed back into what I'd been wearing earlier in the day, and then went down to tell Fritz I wouldn't be home for dinner.

"Ah," said Fritz. "I will adjust the menu."

Notes:

I believe canonically they usually have poker night at Saul's place, but I chose to ignore that for this story.

Chapter 9

It was good to see Saul, opening the door to me, looking cynical in his ratty old suit, with a smile of genuine warmth in his eyes.  I bounded in.  "Finally found time for the peasants, eh?"  I tapped him on the shoulder, and he got the door shut behind me and turned to give it back to me.  There was a sparkle in his eyes and he said, "How hungry are you?"

"Your call."  I eyed him, probably looking hungrier than I meant to but in a different way.

He laughed.  He sounded like he meant it.  "I haven't started yet, if you'd like to play some poker first."  He turned and headed towards the bedroom.

I stopped.  "Poker."

"Sure.  But no yelling if you win.  We can't get too loud, the walls are thin and the neighbors have frayed tempers these days."

Oh.  He was warning me.  He was also lounging in the doorway looking delicious.  Okay.

"Sure," I said, and followed him into the bedroom.  

We were careful to stay quiet.  It had been too long.  I felt like I had to get to know his body all over again, and get him to trust me fresh.  I'd pushed too hard before, hadn't I?  

Trying to make him make noise might've been safe in the countryside far from the madding crowd, but it wasn't safe here and maybe wouldn't be.  The brownstone had thick walls, but Wolfe wasn't exactly hurrying to set up a spot for Saul there that would pass muster and not draw comments.

"Slow down," Saul warned me, panting and low, pushing my hands back a little.  "I can't keep quiet."

"Okay.  Sorry."  I kissed here and there, trying to apologize.  "I can control myself.  I can learn how to do this right."

"You're doing fine.  I just have to stay quiet.  Help me out."  

We worked on it.  He had a lot of self-control and under other circumstances, he'd have been happy to let go of it for me.  I was glad to know that, since it was pretty flattering, but we both kept the thin walls in mind and kept our time in bed short and quiet.  

We played poker and ate, and made the regular amount of noise for those things, and when we put on Johnny Carson, we turned the volume to a suitable level and kissed instead of watching the show.  I held him on my lap, and he let me pet him and try to soothe the loneliness that had been building, of not getting to touch him, not getting to be near him.  

He curled up on my lap and let me, and that felt good, to be trusted like that.  I didn't just want the sex.  Maybe that wasn't even mostly what I wanted, I didn't know.  I wanted Saul, and I wanted to get to keep him.

It was just that we still had to figure that part out.  And then maybe make him believe that I meant it, that I was invested too.

That was the only time I saw him that week, and it was only for a couple of hours.  Between one thing and another, I was missing Saul a lot.  I wished he wouldn't be so screwy about privacy and staying hidden.  

But maybe he was right.  If I'd been obvious before we were sleeping together, I might be worse now.  Mainly, I guess, whether I was obvious or not, there hadn't been anything to find before.  It didn't actually matter what anyone thought, when there was nothing there.  Now there was, and it mattered a whole lot.

#

"Look who finally showed his face," said Lon, standing up to give Saul a handshake.  "How've you been?"

"Fine. Busy." 

Fred pulled out his chair for him and I stood up and shook his hand as well.  "Nice of you to bother showing up," I told him.  

Saul was a little curt at first, but he warmed up.  The guys made him comfortable and pretty soon we were all joking and enjoying the mind game of poker with guys who knew how to play it.  Even Orrie minded his manners. 

I'd missed him so damned much, it was hard to keep myself in check, but I managed it.  By focusing on my cards, I wasn't tempted to just smile at him.  

I didn't want the evening to end.  At least I had this time to be with him, even if it was supervised.  I tried not to get emotional about it.  

At the end of the night I didn't get up to say goodbye, just gave him a nod and smile.  I was staying to help clean up and Lon nudged me, and said, "Go on, walk him home.  Say sorry if you need to, don't be a cold shoulder."

I tried not to show my surprise.  Did it actually work, then?  Lon was no dope, but he thought Saul and I were on the outs.  

"Ah, hell, you're right," I said, and left, grabbing my jacket and hat, and hurrying out.  I caught up with Saul easily.  "Lon said I ought to follow you and apologize."

He glanced at me, amusement in his eyes.  "Yeah, how dare you do that thing you did."

"I was rotten, to the core," I agreed.  I walked close to him, close enough our arms brushed sometimes.  Maybe it looked like an accident, but it wasn't.  

"I know a place," said Saul.

"Sure," I said.  I wondered if I was going to meet the seedy underbelly of deviant nightlife.  I wondered if I'd like it.  I followed him.  Saul wouldn't lead me astray.  Or, well, he wouldn't put me in danger.  

"There's different kinds of risks," he said, keeping his voice low as we walked.  "One is being different amongst your peers and in regular society.  That's dangerous because people take note.  Then there's being different in places for you to be different with likeminded souls."  He was talking a little faster.  "That's different.  You just risk the law, then."  He was looking at me.  

I looked back.  "I said sure," I told him.

He nodded, once.  "I'm careful.  We'll be careful," he said.  He took me to a place that would've been a speakeasy in the past, and now was a place for men to get together when they preferred the company of other men.  

There was dancing.  There was no band, just an old stereo, but the music was good and I felt something inside me brighten up at the thought of dancing with him.  I hadn't actually expected to get to do it again.  I hadn't even though he'd enjoyed it much, but here we were, and he'd brought me here, so I could dance with him.  Even though it was a risk, and he didn't want to run risks.  

We moved together to the cramped dancing space, and swayed and held onto each other for the slow stuff, tested our moves on the fast stuff.  I was better than he was, but he put more of himself into it this time than I'd thought he had, and he kept up with me pretty well.  

He had his eyes on me the whole time.  It was mesmerizing, being the total focus of his attention like that.  I could get used to it.  Even when he was mostly aware of me, he wouldn't usually just look at me straight on like that, letting me see I had his focus.  

I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed it a hell of a lot.

#

After, we sat at the place’s dumpy little bar and had a drink apiece.  Saul said we had to get going.  

"You'll know the way next time," he told me.  

"Sure.  We can meet up instead of going together."  I looked at him, then looked at him again.  He met my gaze, and there was no joy in it.  

"Ah," I said.  Apparently Archie is two-timing Saul in this scenario.

"You'll be careful?" Said Saul.

"Sure," I said.  "If I can't be good, I'll be careful.  But Saul.  You know I—"

"Sure," said Saul.  He touched my arm, gentle.  "We should go."

We went.  I didn't try to talk more.  I didn't want to say goodbye to him.  I didn't want to go home alone and miss him for another week, and feel rotten about it and know I was probably doing everything wrong, and second-guess things further.  But it had been good to see him, and it had been good to dance.  I wanted more, but I had to be content.

"We could go in the back entrance, I guess," said Saul.  I finally noticed, then, that we'd been heading not to his place but to Wolfe's brownstone.  I looked at him, raising my brows, both of them.  

"If you want," he said.  He looked humble, shy, and a little nervous.  "I mean, I don't want to disturb—"

"Okay, sure," I said.  We went down the alley and past Fritz's herb garden and in the back way.  I brought him up to my room, hating the feeling of sneaking around, but excited to have him here, and that it had been his idea.  He wanted this—it wasn't just me.

"You want anything from the kitchen?" I asked him when we were safely, and quietly, up in my room.

"I'm not that hungry," he said, taking off his jacket, and looking at me like that was the exactly opposite of the truth.

"Sure," I said, dragging it out.  I was undressing, too.  "You okay with this?"

"It was my idea, wasn't it?"  He gave me a wink.  

"I don't like being too much," I told him.  "So you lead the way today, okay?"

"Too much?  You're not too much."

"Okay, so maybe don't try to pass me off on the club of like-minded men.  I'd like to be with you.  I know we're working out the details, but don't jump ship before we've more than started the voyage."

"I like that," said Saul.  "Sailing metaphors.  Hello, sailor.  Come here and give me a kiss."

I kissed him, thoroughly and for a long time.  It was good to have him in my bed, to touch each other and take our time.  We didn't get loud.  We didn't dare.  I knew he had to go home before dawn.  He knew it, too.  This was a sacred stolen moment.  We made the most of it.  

Saul was as tender as he was tough, and sometimes you could forget that.  I didn't forget it that night.  We took our time.   

I knew we hadn't sorted it all out, but being there with him, it felt like it was going to be okay.  Like it was just perfect, here, between us, where it mattered.  

 

Chapter 10

 

"Archie," said Wolfe the next day.  I looked up.  I didn't think there were any clues, but you never know with Wolfe.  Did he know I'd had Saul over last night?  It was hard to believe he'd say anything about it if he did.

Something about the way I looked up at him made him narrow his eyes.  I widened mine in response, to look extra innocent.  We had a staring contest.

He gave it up.  "You will spend the night at Lily's tonight, or arrange things suitably so that this is where you will be known to be."  He looked at me, giving me the stink eye.

"I need an alibi, got it," I said.  

"You will be gone all night, and when you return home we shall have a disagreement.  There may be witnesses.  There may be harsh words.  You will not need to quit but a threat would not go amiss."

I guess he expected me to nod and be happy.  Not so far.  There was going to be a problem of some kind.  I was missing at my post.  And that was how Saul gets in, to cover my failings.  I made a face.  "I don't love it."

"You don't have to even like it," said Wolfe.  "I have arranged matters.  Make certain that Lily will back you up, on the occasion that there are questions."

"You'll be all right?"  I swiveled in my chair, trying not to think of the need for an alibi.

"All shall be theater," said Wolfe.  

#

The best alibi is always the truth, so I arranged to take Lily out dancing, and allowed myself to be invited back to hers after.  We had drinks and danced a little more, but I cried off from further intimacies.  I wasn't sure how things stood with Saul, if we were going to be exclusive or not.  I had the feeling it might be better not to assume either way, if I didn't want to make trouble for myself.  

Yeah, he'd made the cracks about being careful, and introducing me to suitable spots, but that didn't mean it was settled, and that didn't mean anything about my time spent with the female of the species.  I was being careful.  

Lily didn't take offense.  She can take me or leave me, and honestly that's part of the charm.  I didn't take the chance of confiding in her that Wolfe wanted me here.  That could make things complicated.  It was complicated enough.

"You're tense, Archie," she observed as she put her arm around my neck and gave me a little kiss.  She wanted to dance more, both of us having had a few drinks and kicked off our shoes, the radio on in the background.  It was an intimate scene, and we both knew it wasn't going anywhere after.  But we both danced for the love of dance, not for foreplay.  

It had always been like that, for us.  Sex was nice, but dancing was like breathing; we couldn't live without it.  We matched well on the dance floor, and we were safe people to dance together, with no expectations on either side raised to be dashed, no hurt feelings, none of that dangerous dance around marriage conventions.  

Lily was her own person, and I was mine.  But when we danced, we were like one person dancing really well.

"I'm tense," I agreed.  "Things are happening."

She raised one perfectly sculpted brow.  "With a case?  I wasn't aware you had a case."

I shook my head.  "Sadly, we don't."

"So it's personal."  Both perfect brows rose.

"Personal," I nodded.  "Sharing a household, it's complicated."

"Sure." Lily, who had been starting to tense up, relaxed again.

We danced some more.  She'd been thinking something was up more than conflict with Wolfe, and she'd been right, but I wasn't about to clue her in.  

She leaned in to me, and I leaned into her, and we just held each other for a while, swaying and moving to the music. 

#

The call came early.  Wolfe himself.  I could hear the surprise in Lily's voice, and knew.  I moved closer and held my hand out for the phone.  "Boss?" I said into the phone.

"Get home at once," he growled.  "There's been an incident."  And then he hung up on me, the big rat.

"Let me know what happens," she said, and her eyes were worried.  I promised to be in touch, gave her a kiss goodbye, and skedaddled.

The brownstone had been invaded by cops.  It looked like a bomb had gone off.  

"What happened?" I demanded.  Even knowing Wolfe had promised it was all theater, it looked bad.  The doors were open; it was being treated like a crime scene.  And there was a big mess.

Purely saw me and headed me off at the pass.  He jerked a thumb towards the kitchen.  "Bomb went off.  Doc is fixing up the cook."  Calling Fritz the cook was like calling Rembrandt a house painter, but I skipped it.  I rushed past him to the kitchen.

Doc Vollmer was there.  He had his bag open, and he was bandaging Fritz.

"I am fine, Archie, do not fret," said Fritz, but he winced while the doctor worked on his hands. 

"What happened?"

"Oh, it was a delivery.  I was foolish enough to accept it.  I am sorry, Archie."  He looked up at me with big, apologetic eyes.  Eyes with pain in them.  

"Where is he?" I said.

"He's locked himself in his room."

"He'll see me," I said grimly, and was on the way.

I didn't have to fake being upset.  I was upset.  He'd planted a bomb, and maybe it hadn't killed Fritz, but he was hurt or I'd eat my hat.  Fritz wasn't good at lying, or faking anything.  Wolfe shouldn't have sacrificed him for me and Saul.  Hell, even if Fritz gave full authorization.  He shouldn't have asked it of him.

I wasn't going to have trouble chewing out Wolfe.

The ensuing fight could definitely be heard downstairs.  We were airing our dirty laundry, and even though a lot of it was theater, it wasn't all theater.  I recollect a red mist, and getting a good head of steam going.  I recall his withering remarks about me neglecting my duty, endangering the household, and leaving Fritz like a lamb to the slaughter, and my response, which wasn't fit to print, about how I deserved a life that wasn't waiting on Wolfe hand and foot, bellboy, security, detective, and everything in between, dancing attendance on every whim, run ragged with no day off except when I begged, and then he'd still cancel it at the first hint of an excuse.

We were exaggerating, but we were also telling the truth, underneath.  We both blew off steam.  The situation ended with me leaving the house with a hastily packed bag, and Wolfe telling me he could replace me easily.

I hoped that was part of the theater, too.

Chapter 11

ch11

 

I ended up staying with Saul for a few days.  It was nice to have an excuse.  I slept in his bed and cooked him breakfasts.  Domestic.  We kept it down in bed.  I’d have enjoyed my learning curve here a little more if we didn’t have to be so quiet, and if I wasn’t still stewing over developments.  But it was good to be with him.  I was starting to think it would always be good, no matter what we did or didn’t do.  

Wolfe wrangled it how he manages to wrangle everything, to get exactly what he wanted.  He hired Saul to stay over a few nights a month, to get all the weight of security off me at least part time.  He raised my pay slightly, and put more reinforced windows in.  He also got himself more orchids, but that was just the usual.  

Wolfe and I were stiffly cold to one another for a few weeks, after I came back to work, but the atmosphere thawed after our next big job, and things went back to more or less normal.  Saul was over a few times a month, sometimes more often, and he spent the night.  

He accepted the work, though he'd never have accepted a full-time position, because everyone knew he needed his independence.  But as someone we both knew and trusted, and as a guy who's one of the best and likes to keep the peace, nobody was surprised that he agreed to it.  It made sense from all angles, even the real one.

As for Fritz—the bomb might've been mostly fireworks, designed to scare, not hurt—but all the same, he'd given Wolfe and I both a bad fright, by being too close.  The burns were superficial; there was no shrapnel to harm him or anyone else.  

But all the same, he was injured, and it took days to heal.  Days of guilt for Wolfe, for me, and for Fritz, who insisted it was his own fault—and days of no cooked meals for Wolfe, which I still think wasn't punishment enough.  

Wolfe should've planned it better, that's all.  Even a bomb that's mostly smoke can go wrong.  Even for Wolfe.

#

All in all, between one crisis, sticky situation, and general fuck up and the next, it was almost two months before Saul spent his first legitimate night under the brownstone's roof, as my silent partner.  Wolfe had the room set up next to mine for Saul, with plenty of storage should he care to bring clothes or books, and a comfortable bed, and rug he could afford and most people couldn't.  He liked Saul, always had, and would want him to be comfortable.  

"I'll admit it's thoughtful of him to let you be next door to me," I said, sitting on the edge of Saul's new bed and bouncing just a little, to test it.  My expression was sour; I was still on the outs with Wolfe.  He'd leave me in the dark one too many times, and then where would he be?  What if Fritz had been hurt worse?  I wouldn't have stood for that plan if I'd known.  The fact that Fritz agreed to it was almost worse.  Fritz is not supposed to be at risk.

"Sure," said Saul, who was being tolerant.  He efficiently put away a couple of books, some of his ill-fitted suits and ties, his keys and wallet.  He began to strip down.

I glanced towards the door, quick and worried.  I didn't want Fritz or Wolfe walking in on Saul getting naked for me.  

"I'm going to take a bath before supper," said Saul.  "I'll see you after dinner, unless Wolfe wants to play pool or darts.  I'll go along with the host."

"Sure," I said.  "You're nice like that."  I watched him, getting his outer shirt off.  He always had efficient movements.  I like watching him, always had.  I guess I'd liked Saul pretty much from the first.  

"You have to stare?" he asked, mild and self-contained.

"Sorry."  I made myself look elsewhere.  So, he didn't like me looking at him.  He was closed off and quiet today, and tolerating me.  Didn't mean I had to take it personally.

Didn't mean I had to like it, either.

Maybe he felt bad about Fritz too.  Maybe he was just tired of being stuck in the middle of whatever latest argument was going on in the brownstone, whatever cold shoulder.  He might take one whiff of the atmosphere tonight and decide to call the whole thing off, just for his peace of mind.  Whatever the case, I'd probably be the last to know, the way he'd been shutting me out, pretty much since that first night we were together.  Before that, it was hard to separate us—and not all on my side, either.  Since then he'd been so careful and reserved, weighing everything, holding me at arm's length.  

Sometimes I saw glimmers, was allowed to see the real Saul and get close to him. Sometimes I wasn't so sure.  Either way, it wasn't really enough for me, and it left me off balance in the worst way, because I didn't know how to ask about it or hash it out and get through.  Every time I tried to bring it up, he'd say he wanted to keep us safe.  But that didn't feel like all of it.  It felt like I was permanently at arm's length, and I didn't know why.

"We'll talk after that?" I asked him, more forlorn than I wanted to feel.

"We'll talk if you want to talk," said Saul.  He looked at me then, and maybe he saw some of what I was feeling, because his eyes got more alert.  "Is there something to talk about?"

"There always used to be things to talk about, day or night.  Now I'm on the outside again, and I don't know why."

"Ah," said Saul.  "I've been shutting you out, huh?"  He sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand, half undressed as he was and getting ready to go and take a bath.  Anyone could've walked in, but he didn't care.  He sat there and held my hand, gave my knuckles one gentle rub with his thumb.  

I didn't say anything.

"I've been stuck in my head a lot," he said.  He swallowed.  "Archie, it's going to take a while before I feel safe.  Even here.  Even though I trust you.  It's a hell of a thing to say, but I'm scared."

I looked at him then.  "You?  You're never scared."

"I tough it out.  I play pretend and get through it.  But I'm scared, and scared bad."  He looked at me, and his eyes were bleak.  "Me being here, and why, has already put Fritz in danger.  It puts the rest of you in danger, too.  It puts me in danger, if anybody gets wise.  I try to stay on the good side of the cops.  That won't matter, if someone gets something on us."

"We'll be circumspect," I told him.  

"I know.  I'm circumspect all the time.  A little more won't kill anybody.  It's switching back and forth, from careful and shut off, to opening up and letting anyone in.  Anyone.  Even you."  He squeezed my hand, and got up, and gave me a nice, but kind of pained, smile.  Then he turned and headed to the bathroom.

I didn't know what to say to that, but I didn't figure from that look on his face that he wanted me following him, so I didn't.  I went to my own room and got myself ready for supper, too.

The meal was good, the conversation flowed, and there was no atmosphere of strain.  I could feel Saul's tension, as if waiting for some dam to break, but Wolfe was in fine form, and a good host.  He didn't treat Saul any different than usual—just a good friend here for a job, for a meal, for a chat.

After dinner he played darts, like Saul had suspected.  I didn't help, as I'm banned from darts.  It's led to too many fights between Wolfe and me and we had to write it off as a bad job.  He maintains it's exercise; I maintain he cheats.

I didn't watch the game of darts; I busied myself with chores and then went up to bed.  After a while, there was a light knock at the door.  I got up, and went to open it.  Saul.  He stood there in the dark hall, hesitating.

"Can I come in?"

"Anytime."  I held the door open.  I hated that he felt like he had to ask, and sounded so unsure about his welcome.  

"You wanted to talk," he said.

"I guess you covered it."  I shut the door behind him, and took hold of his shoulders carefully.  "Okay if I kiss you?"

He nodded and turned his face up for it.  I felt him relax after a minute or so, and he was holding onto me by then, the way I was holding onto him.

"We should talk," he said.  "I don't want to know, but I guess I ought to know."

"Oh?"  I led the way over to the bed, and we sat down.  The rest of it could wait, if he had questions.  He leaned his head against my shoulder, and let himself rest against me.  It was good to feel trusted even that much, but maybe I'd have to earn more.  Maybe it would just take patience and time to overcome a lifetime of reasons to fear.

He swallowed.  "I guess I'd like to know how exclusive we might be.  For instance, will it only be girls?  Only a few, or lots?  Will there be other guys, for you?  I wasn't planning on anyone else.  I think I'm not wired that way."

"But I should get to play the field?"  I snorted to show what I thought of that.  "I can do exclusive.  I can dance without having sex with the girls.  That's usually how it is anyway, even if Wolfe doesn't believe it.  Believe it or not, not every woman wants to toss off her panties after she gets to know me, and not every one who does, do I want to accept."  It was a convoluted speech, but he seemed to get it.  

He sat up a little straighter.  "What about Lily?  I know she's different."

"Lily and I are friends.  We have an arrangement and that's always been if either of us have the possibility of something serious, we're just friends.  We dance well together, and that's plenty."  I took a breath, and said it.  "I haven't been with a woman since you.  I won't be going after other men, either.  I think you're enough for anybody."

"I'm not sure I will be," admitted Saul.  "I never have been before."

At some point, I'd started rubbing soothing circles on his back.  Kind of a far cry from the night of passion I'd figured we'd jump into, but maybe this talk was more important.  There seemed to be a lot of misunderstandings floating around.

"Do you have regrets?" I asked him, very quiet.  "It's not too late to change your mind."

"I've been inexcusably dour if I've led you to think that."  He turned and smiled at me.  Even in the dark, his eyes gleamed.  "I wouldn't kid you along if I wasn't sure.  I'm nuts about you.  I ought to feel safe here—but I don't.  And I don't know how long it'll take, either."

"You think anything would have ever happened if we hadn't gone to that cabin?  Seemed like you only let down your hair even a little when we were miles from company."

"Maybe that's it," said Saul, and turned and put his arms around me and moved in for more kisses.  He kissed precisely, thoroughly, and carefully, like he did everything else.  His mind was on it now, but not like it was another job, or if it was, he was enjoying his work.  And how.

We spent that first night in my room.  We kept the volume down, but we didn't sleep a lot.  Towards the end, I felt like we were really on the same page.  

It was better than dancing.

 

Chapter 12

 

Things were different after that.  I don't know if it was the talk about monogamy, or knowing he'd have time and space to let down his guard, or my obvious charms, but anyway when he looked at me now, the lights were on inside, and I was allowed to be part of it.  He went back to enjoying my company.  Occasionally I could make him laugh.  Back to normal—with all the extras we had in private.

Since the bomb and the fight were common knowledge, Saul's hiring was, too.  If Lon had thought Saul and I were on the outs before, he wasn't the only one holding his breath about it the next time we had a poker game.  

The fact that Saul and I were getting along well, with no hard looks or curt words between us, and no hard feelings even about the poker, seemed to be a relief to them.  I could get defensive about my job, and everyone knew that.  But they could see we'd worked it out, so there was no pressure on the poker club, or the good relations vis a vis Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Panzer.  If only they knew.  But they didn't, and that was the point.

Saul and I started going back to ballgames and the occasional boxing match together.  He stayed over on those special nights, and I saw a lot of him even when he didn't.  The hell of it was that he actually was really useful to have around the place.  He helped with a lot, and saved Wolfe some brain work from time to time, and assisted me with chores.  He was also a good enough guest to raise the atmosphere of the place.  It made the rest of us want to stay in good moods to match his.  

My careful, precise, clever, tough and gentle Saul.  He'd read to me sometimes before we went to bed, if he was in that kind of mood.  My brain doesn't work the way Saul's does, or Wolfe's; I'm no literary giant.  But it was nice, being let in, a glimpse through the windows.  It was nice to see what made his violin strings pluck and resonate on the inside, where his biggest thoughts were.  

Like Wolfe, Saul was a detective to pay the bills, but he was plenty of other people on the inside.  I felt lucky every time I got to see some of that and share in it.

He took me dancing, sometimes.  We were careful.  Mostly, I danced with women and kept up the illusion of being a bit of a skirt chaser.  

We had our nights at the brownstone, our outings, and the times we could swing a bit of work together.  We were quiet together, in a way that felt better than the chase.  I mean we were loud sometimes, too, but underneath everything else, we were quiet—inside, where it counted, and with the trust between us.  I don't know if that makes sense, but it's the truth.  All in all, I felt more settled than I ever had before in my life.

I'm good with my words, but I guess not good enough.  There was something else I needed to say, and I needed to find the right way to say it.  The thing is, when I talk, I'm usually talking people into or out of things, or getting something for Wolfe, or just generally trying to spread chaos, charm, or cheer.  Whatever the case—it wasn't usually just leveling, wearing my heart on the sleeve.  But I guessed it was fair to say it all, the same.  

I saved it for a night when I'd been missing him awfully bad.  He'd been out of state on a job, and was finally back at the brownstone for the night.  I didn't feel like there was uncertainty between us anymore, but being away from him still hurt, not because I wondered how he was feeling about me, but because I just missed him, I needed him.  He'd become necessary for me.

And I think he knew.  I really think we both knew how things stood.  All the same I had to square it by saying it, straight up saying it because I didn't think I ever would if I didn't say it soon.  You get into habits, and not saying it was starting to become a habit.  But I had to say it.  He could laugh, and say he knew, but I still had to say it. 

I was pretty sure I knew, for him.  I was pretty sure I knew from day one, when he admitted he was pretty stuck on me already.

Well, I was stuck on him, and he needed to hear it.

"Saul," I said, that night, after we'd sampled Fritz's culinary delights and gone through the guest routine with some darts and some conversation and chores, and then bedtime, a little early, because why not go for what you want, when it's available.  

He was folding his clothes as he took them off, carefully, and laying them over the back of a chair, giving it his concentration, going slow.  Sometimes he needed to take his time, especially if it had been a while.  It was like he had to take his armor off, so he could be there with me, without it.  

I was already undressed, stretched out on the bed, so he could get an eyeful if he wanted to, or not.  The light was on low.  I was debating asking if he needed it off.  Sometimes he didn't like to be looked at, even if he wasn't shy about touch.  I liked seeing him, but I liked him being comfortable more.  I waited to see.

"Yes, Archie?"  

"I need to say it, first, so you don't think it's just a reaction.  Because it's true."  I smiled at him, one of my best, I hoped.  I hoped he was paying attention, because I didn't know how many times I'd be able to get the words out.  "I gotta tell you, Saul.  I'm awfully nuts about you."

"Are you?"  His smile curved up, delicious, delightful.  He stepped closer to the bed, to me, even though he wasn't fully de-armored yet.  "That's understandable."

"Yep," I agreed, giving him a bit of a squint, and a nod.  "In fact, I might be in love with you.  I'm pretty sure of it."

Saul rocked back on his heels.  He blinked.  The smile came, went, and came back.  "You are, huh?  It might be mutual."

"Don't strain anything, saying it back," I told him.  We were both grinning.

"I won't."  He was on me, then, and I got him in my arms and rolled over on top of him, and kissed the grin off him.  

I love you, I love you, I love you.   

It echoed in my head, even though I'd barely gotten it out.  I had said it—and he'd heard it, and knew I meant it.  I guess I could use my words all right, when it mattered, after all.

#

"I'm not one for speeches," said Saul.  

"Sure," I agreed.  "You're only human."  

He gave me a smile, a nice one.  We'd had a day together, a good day, and now it was a good night, too.  

It had been almost a year since we were first together, almost a year since that night in the cabin.  For sentimental purposes, I was planning a trip there again, as soon as we could swing it—and swing it safely, of course.

I was feeling loose, and good, and very alive.  I stretched, and got up to go over to him and got him in my arms.  "You have a speech?  I'll listen.  I won't even make cracks."

Saul grinned.  "You're only human, too.  You can't keep yourself from making cracks."  But he was grinning.

"Hey, I'm charming as hell," I told him, and moved in for a kiss.  Even though you'd think we'd get tired of each other after a while, that hadn't happened yet.  I couldn't really get enough of him.  I kept my hands to myself during the day, of course, but I didn't have to at night, at least on these nights, at home and safe.  

It was strange, because I'd always found reasons not to stay enamored with girls I fell for, but I just couldn't seem to find a thing wrong with Saul.  I mean, even his flaws.  I liked those, too.  Just goes to show.  I guess I am only human; I guess I can fall as hard as anybody else, given the right circumstances.  The right guy.

"You'll do," he told me, and gave me a quick, hard kiss back.  "I wanted you to have this."  He fumbled with a little box.  "I know it can't be official.  But I'd like you to have it all the same."  He held out a ring, and then he got self conscious again.  "At least, if you'd like it."

I'd stopped kissing him to stare.  He didn't put it on my finger or anything.  Just offered it to me, like maybe it wasn't very much, maybe it was even kind of silly, but all the same, he wanted to make the gesture.

"I never thought of myself as the marrying sort," I said, because it needed to be put into words—that's what this was, however he said it.  That's what this really was.

"I know," said Saul, meeting my eyes, being brave.  "But I figured I ought to say it, all the same.  You can say no."

I made a noise in my throat.  "To you?  Never.  Will I change my name, or will you?"

He put his arms around me, and hid his face against my neck, I guess so I couldn't see his face.  He doesn't like to show so much on his face.  But I guess I saw it all the same.  

I held onto him, and said things maybe I don't want to repeat here, and afterwards, we were back in bed together, and I made a mental note that I'd better find him a ring just as nice. 

We'd be careful.  I guess we'd always have to be careful, unless the world changed a whole hell of a lot.  But all the same, we'd have each other's rings, and know what that meant.  

We mostly wore them at home.  They didn't quite match, which I guess helped.  Wolfe saw, the first time.  He saw us each wearing a ring, and he gave me a quick, surprised look, and then—never said a word.  But he got out the good champagne that night, and we had a toast.

"To friendship," said Wolfe.

"Friendship," said Saul, giving me a look that said something else entirely.  I liked it when he had that sparkle in his eyes.  I liked it a lot.  He looked so alive that way, and he wasn't hiding, not from me, not at all.

"Friendship," I said, and touched my glass to his, and gave him a wink.  "And all the rest of it."

the end