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An envelope falls on the coffee table in front of Will. “Merry Christmas.”
“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” he replies reflexively, but he’s already opening the envelope. There’s two plane tickets inside. Well, printouts. It’s close enough. “New York?”
Gabe falls into the couch, his head resting on William’s lap. “You said last year you wanted to—”
“You remembered that?” His face flushes embarrassingly. Gabe continues to surprise him. First he helped him get his new job, then helped him move to the city proper, now this. Gabe’s sweet, really. Will’s always wanted to see Rockefeller Center at Christmastime, always been caught up in the fantasy of being on that ice with someone he loves. There’s just something really romantic about Christmas. Gabe’s eyes turn soft.
“I listen to you, Will.” He didn’t—that’s not—his eyes widen in panic and Gabe chuckles. “Read the rest of your papers.” There’s a hotel booking, too, and a VIP confirmation for skating. Thorough. “I can’t get you anything else—”
“It’s perfect.” He leans down and captures Gabe’s lips, twisting his fingers in his hair. Gabe whines reflexively and Will smiles into him. Gabe’s hair pulling thing. It’s cute. “Does anyone know I’m going to be gone for—” he checks the flight itinerary again “—a whole week?”
“Ryland took care of it. Say thank you tomorrow when you see him.” Gabe rolls off the couch—he’s annoyingly graceful; William cannot replicate that motion without collapsing into a heap no matter how often he tries, and he’s tried. “Can we get Chinese?” Will laughs.
“Yeah Gabe, we can get Chinese.”
Three weeks later they’re sitting in the waiting area at O’Hare. William’s been up for extremely too many hours already and Gabe’s starting to get irritable, snapping at the children playing on the seating. Bill likes airports, usually. There’s something liminal and bizarre about them that makes him feel like a man out of time, somehow separate from the rest of the world. Gabe must have somehow forgotten to inform Will that he’s the worst fucking travel companion ever.
“Gabriel Saporta,” he hisses out between his teeth, after Gabe knocks into him and almost spills his coffee for a third time. They’re going to board any minute now.
“Eduardo.”
“What?” The non-sequitur throws him. Gabe throws him one of his most charming grins.
“Gabriel Eduardo Saporta. You’re full-naming me, might as well get the full-full name.” William sighs, but he knows he’s smiling.
“Gabriel Eduardo Saporta,” he says, sweetly this time, “could you calm the fuck down?” He grimaces, but leans back into his chair, enough that Will can tell he’s at least trying to relax. It’s something, so Will leans over and kisses his cheek, and Gabe smiles. William closes his eyes and drinks his coffee.
The flight is smooth and short, and the kids from the waiting area are thankfully far away on the plane itself. William drifts in and out of a nap; Gabe has his headphones in the whole time. They land at LaGuardia, which Gabe claims to be the airport with the easiest access to Manhattan. “I grew up here, you know.”
“At the airport?” Gabe grins wide; Will really isn’t as naturally sassy as he is, but it’s fun sometimes, and Gabe likes it so much.
“New York City. We moved here when I was a kid.” He weaves deftly through the crowds dragging Bill behind him by the hand, until they’re settled on public transit. “I went to Northwestern because they gave me the best scholarship, but I didn’t really want to leave. Would have gone to school in Jersey otherwise.” Their knees knock together as they try to keep hold of each other and their luggage alike. “We’re going to have to meet some of them. I hope that’s okay with you?”
“Who?” Sometimes Gabe talks like that, like there were a few sentences in between that accidentally got skipped. He moves so fast in his head. When they first started seeing each other Will tried way too hard to keep up; nowadays he just goes with the flow and asks Gabe to fill in the blanks when they arise. Gabe, for his part, always looks a little sheepish when called out on it.
“Sorry. My friends. The ones still here.”
“You kept in touch?”
“Only with the best.” They have to transfer here, from a bus to a train, but Gabe says it’s an easy walk from the train to the hotel. “I do have to confess to something before you meet them, though.” Will just tilts his head, the ‘go on’ unspoken. “We have to see them because they helped me afford everything. And they want to meet you.”
“Gabe…” William really hopes he didn’t overspend on this trip. “How much was all this? I can help.” He shakes his head, though, that fond smile across his face.
“Oh no, not like that. You’ll see.” He does see, when they walk into the hotel. It’s gorgeous, clearly way out of their price range, but there’s a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and an angular face sitting on one of the leather chairs who hops up when he sees them.
“Gabe!” He rushes over and Gabe grabs him, lifting the other man up in a hug. The blonde woman who was sitting with him walks over at a more sedate pace and smiles at Will.
“He’s been so excited all week. I don’t think they’ve seen each other in a few years, and he wouldn’t stop chattering at me. Gabe this, Gabe that, William.” She extends a hand. “Fuck, sorry.” The swear seems incongruent with her professional attire, but it charms Will all the more. “I’m Kristin. I work here. And that’s Mikey.”
“Mikey Way!” William knows that name. Gabe’s told him so many stories of shows back home, accompanied by the shy and quiet but somehow most well-known kid in his scene. He desperately wants to ask how this tidy woman in the skirt suit and the man in the black jeans and beanie know each other, but it seems obvious, doesn’t it? The fond way she smiles towards Mikey says everything. Will wonders if he smiles at Gabe like that, too. His thoughts are interrupted when his shoulders are hooked by a long arm and he’s literally pulled over to Gabe.
“This is William. Will. Bilvy. Be nice.” Mikey arches an eyebrow at Will, and he finds himself wilting a little under that stare, until Mikey finally claps him on the shoulder.
“It’s nice to meet someone else who can put up with Gabe. We have a support group, if you want to join.” His eyes are sparkling. “Kristin, come meet Gabe.” Will watches the once-over Gabe gives her and just knows he’s going to say something inappropriate, and so he does the only thing he can think of—the minute Gabe opens his mouth, he clasps his hand overtop. Gabe looks at him betrayed, but Mikey and Kristin both laugh. “I warned her. She’s tougher than she looks.” Gabe licks at Bill’s fingers distractingly, enough that he releases his grasp.
“I was just going to say thank you!” He was not, and everyone in the circle knows it, so nobody has to indulge him. “You believe me, right, darling?” Of course not, but he tangles his fingers in Gabe’s anyway. “Well. Thank you.”
“Getting to annoy corporate by finally using my nights but during the Christmas season? Really, it was a gift to me.” William likes her. He’s not sure about Mikey yet. “I’m sure you want to settle in but one of Mikey’s bands is at Knitting Factory tonight, did he invite you?” Gabe and Will both look at each other and then back at Kristin, and then shake their heads. She glares; Mikey shrugs haplessly. “Well, text Mikey if you want to join us. Let’s get you checked in. Travel is exhausting.”
The room is beautiful, of course it is, clean lines and white sheets and a view of the city below. Gabe flops down on the bed without taking his shoes off. “This is the life, Bilvy.”
“What, was it like this growing up for you?” Bill doesn’t think so, but Gabe’s snort confirms it.
“C’mere.” Will toes off his sneakers before falling down into Gabe’s arms; the sheets are soft and the bed just the right amount of firm underneath him. “You look pretty here.”
“I look like I’ve been awake for sixteen hours.” Gabe hums and kisses his neck, once, twice, three times. Will shivers despite the warmth of the room.
“Like I said. Pretty.” Gabe’s fingers brush through his hair. “You can sleep if you want. We don’t have any plans.”
“Your friend’s band?” His voice comes out slow, softer than intended. The rhythmic sensation of Gabe’s hands could go either way right now, towards sex or towards sleep, and there’s something beautiful about the way Gabe isn’t pushing him towards either. Gabe, more than any other person he’s ever been with save Travie, respects Will’s agency and decisions on a level he would have thought impossible, did think impossible before then.
“There’ll be another before we leave. He’s been doing well for himself.” Will allows his eyes to droop closed under Gabe’s attentions, and barely hears his whisper. “Sleep, love.”
When Will wakes up it’s dark outside and Gabe’s sitting at the desk hunched over his tablet, draped in his purple hoodie. He stretches out on the bed, luxuriating in the size, before Gabe turns and grins at him with tired eyes of his own. Will can’t say he wouldn’t go back to sleep, given the opportunity, so he reaches out a hand and gestures at grabbing for his boyfriend. “You’re so far.” Gabe’s not a delicate person but he’s careful with his tools, putting the stylus on to charge before joining Bill on the bed. “You should have napped, too.”
“Tried. Had an idea.” And ideas never leave him be. “Do you want to go out? See the city?” Gabe doesn’t want to go out; it’s obvious in his eyes. It’s Will’s trip, but it’s his trip to be with Gabe. He shakes his head, hair sticking to his face from the sweat of sleep. Gabe brightens, just a little. “Kristin left us room service credits. She’s a winner, huh.”
“Do you know how they met?” Gabe chuckles, tugging at Will’s sweater.
“You’re going to die of heatstroke in the middle of winter. Can’t believe you slept like this.” Bill lifts his arms and lets it be pulled off over his head, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. “I do, actually. Mikey’s got a pretty diverse portfolio nowadays; he ran into her at a show. Literally.” Will laughs, gingerly pulling Gabe’s hoodie off so that they match in attire. “Spilled her drink all over her. Offered to buy her a new one, of course, and take her backstage to make up for it. Charmer.”
“Better story than eating her lunch,” he quips. Gabe leers.
“Would have eaten your lunch sooner if I’d known it would get you in bed.” Will shoves at him, he shoves back, and they grapple around on the bed until all the covers fall to the floor, Gabe pushing him off conclusively. “Go shower. I’ll get food.”
It’s a rain shower. Gabe is not getting food. Gabe is joining him in the rain shower. He laughs, when William pulls him into the bathroom and starts stripping off his clothes. “Billllllllll.”
“This is my present and I want you to fuck me in the rain shower.” Gabe shivers, then, and pushes Will up against the sink, pinning him to the cold marble. The sound of the water covers up the way he whimpers from the impact. Gabe’s fingers tighten around his wrists as his kiss goes on, deep and luxurious, sensual. He struggles against Gabe’s hold, trying to move his hands to his jeans so he can remove the thick fabric between them, but Gabe’s strong, much stronger than he is, and just presses his leg between Will’s and leans in, until Will’s practically arched backwards over the sink. It’s not comfortable but it is definitely hot. He can almost see their reflections in his peripheral vision, the outline of Gabe’s muscles tanned against Will’s too-pale skin. “We’re wasting the hot water,” he mumbles into Gabe’s lips.
“Hotels don’t run out of hot water,” Gabe replies, but he does relent, releasing Will’s hands so he can swiftly undo his belt. Gabe kicks off the pants and then steps into the shower, groaning as the hot water hits him. “Fuck, okay, Bilvy, you were right.”
“Lemme get my phone. I need to record that for posterity.” He takes about three steps before Gabe’s hand locks around his wrist and pulls him in, and then Will’s under the water and trapped in Gabe’s arms. Hardly the worst place to be. They kiss under the spray, water dripping into Will’s mouth and sticking his hair all around his neck, and he’d like to move it all to one side or something but his hands are roaming the angles of Gabe’s hips and the curve of his ass, letting the water guide his fingertips and it’s all warm and lush and heavy, like the feeling of Gabe’s fingers on his back doing the same.
Will leans his head on Gabe’s shoulder and just lets the water run around him. It feels like there’s so much it’s washing away—his most recent run-in with Tom, his unfinished projects at work, the bruises from his last adventure on the ice with Gabe, they all fall into the drain with the sweat and clenched muscles of the travel and the nap. He doesn’t notice when Gabe grabs his shampoo but does when he puts his hands in Will’s hair, the lather gentle, the scratch of his nails soothing. Gabe has magic fingers. He talked about cutting his hair, once, and Gabe was so horrified that he joked that Gabe needed to help with the upkeep, then, and Gabe took it surprisingly seriously. “Turn,” Gabe murmurs, and Will does, tilting his face up into the spray coming from another shower head off to the side. Done with his hair, Gabe’s hands drift down to his cock, and it only takes a few gentle pumps before Will’s grinding back against him. “So,” Gabe breathes hotly into his ear, nibbling at the curve of it and making Will inhale sharply, “how did you want to do this again?”
It’s impractical, Will knows, and the rain shower might even make it less practical, but there’s something about shower sex he’s always enjoyed. Travie—and the amount it doesn’t hurt to think about Travie gets him every time, these days—indulged his nonsense very rarely, less after the diagnosis for obvious reasons, and it’s one of those things that makes Gabe so different. He wraps his arm around Gabe’s waist behind him to squeeze him by the ass up tight against him, rocking back into his cock and breath coming heavier. Gabe’s, too. Will leans over and stretches, there’s so much room in this shower that he actually does have to stretch to get his fingertips on the cold tile of the shower wall, and then pushes his hips back into Gabe, who lifts him back up. “You do look good like that,” he murmurs into Will’s shoulder. “Did you bring lube?”
“Should be over by your things.” When he turns to look Will runs his fingers along Gabe’s back, tracing with the water his scars and bruises and the outline of his spine. When he turns back around he smiles Will’s favorite smile, the one that doesn’t have a joke behind it, and kisses him in his wet hair.
“Here, lean back.” Gabe pushes him up against the wall and it’s cold again, a sharp contrast with the warm water hitting his chest that makes his dick throb. “God, you’re so.” He doesn’t finish the thought, instead drizzling some lube in his hand and rolling it around his fingers before dropping to the floor. Water drips in his eyes. He looks beautiful. Will spreads his legs without even thinking about it.
Last time they had sex in the shower at Gabe’s place he tried to suck Will off while fingering him, and it ended with Will losing his footing and the two of them collapsed in a heap on the floor of his tub. He sees the way Gabe considers it now and then their eyes meet, and they both laugh. “Save the tricks for another day?” Gabe nods, and slides in with his first finger. Will squirms against it, lifting off the cold tile to try to bear down until Gabe firmly puts his other hand on Will’s hip, pushing him back. Will can either stare at the ceiling or close his eyes but what he chooses is to put his head in the water and watch Gabe, watch and feel the spray hitting his cock and Gabe’s finger—fingers, he whines when Gabe puts in the second—the way he moves his hand, invisible to Will’s eyes but making sensations enough that he can see it anyway. “Fuck, babe,” Will pants out, sputtering around the water, and Gabe smirks. Will’s head clunks against the wall as he throws it back.
“You want another or you wanna go?” There’s a correct answer and Gabe knows Will well enough to know he won’t be answering with it, because he’s already sliding out and climbing off the floor. That’s the thing about the water, the shower, the way it never stops moving, never stops creating the erratic patterns on his skin such that he doesn’t even recognize the emptiness, doesn’t hear the crinkle of the foil or notice the way some of the lube drips down his thigh. Gabe grabs him by the hips and leaves one gentle bite on Will’s shoulder before turning him, pushing him so that Will’s hands are against the wall again and his legs are spread and then Will feels the tip of Gabe’s cock against his hole.
The blunt pressure fills him up, the stretch of it consuming everything. Will lives for this. He’s a hedonist, sure, but there are worse things to be, aren’t there? The wet grasp of Gabe’s fingers on his hips, the patter of the warm water on his back, the ache of cock slowly making its way inside him—so many feelings all at once, it’s like heaven. The only thing that could make it better would be if Gabe would move faster, but Gabe chokes out a laugh when he says so, and ignores him, tightening his hold so William can’t try to shove back into him and inevitably slip and fall and die. “Fuck, Bilvy,” he groans out, “feel so fucking good.” He’d like to say the same but he’s too blissed to speak, the slip-slide of Gabe’s hips against his ass and cock filling him up exquisite. Will takes one hand off the wall to wrap around his cock and jerks himself in time with Gabe’s thrusts, and it’s everything, it really is. They don’t speak, not words, but their mixed whimpers and groans fill and reflect in the wet air, Gabe losing his static hold as his pace quickens to the point that Will can’t keep up, just braces himself against the wall and holds until Gabe lets out the longest moan that almost sounds like Will’s name. His fingers tighten back around Will’s hips for grip, Gabe’s other hand snakes into his hair and pulls, and then Will comes too, messy and hot into messy and hot.
Later, after they’ve properly gotten clean and eaten and they’re relaxing skin-to-skin in the bed, Will traces nonsense patterns on Gabe’s arms and thinks about how he got here. Things were so different a year ago. “What’s in your head?” Gabe interrupts. Will cocks his head to the side. “You stopped moving there for a minute.”
“Just thinking about the past.”
“Travis?” Will smiles. That’s the other thing, the way Gabe’s never acted threatened by the place Travie still has in Will’s heart. He thinks that they would have gotten along, if they’d had the chance to meet. He thinks he knows it, even—sometimes he dreams, and maybe it is just things his mind makes up and not actually Travie talking to him, but it’s a comfort all the same.
“You, actually.” Gabe blushes, a rare look on him. It’s been winter to summer and winter again, and that definitely feels like some kind of metaphor to him. An idea occurs to him. “Can you hand me my sketchbook?” It’s on the desk under Gabe’s tablet, but he only grumbles a little about getting up for it. Will flips it open as Gabe lays back down beside him, tapping his own tablet to life. It’s nice to have a project.
By the time their skating date rolls around Will’s met so many more people—English teacher Geoff Rickly, Mikey’s brother and comic artist Gerard, and even, to his surprise, Gabe’s brother Ricky. He’s been to Central Park and several holiday markets, had drinks from craft cocktails to shitty dive bar beers, wandered around a couple museums, and, most importantly in his mind, finished his drawing. Will got Gabe a real present that’s waiting back home, of course, new kitchen tools he’d been talking about, but it never felt like enough, too impersonal. But the drawing, the bright colored pencil purples and soft browns that make up Gabe resting by his side every night—that feels good, feels right. They only have two more nights of vacation and both nights are planned already, tonight with skating and tomorrow with one of Mikey’s bands. Will’s trying not to be preemptively sad but the closer they get to flying home the more clingy he becomes, the more frantic the sex and the more jittery the mornings, and Gabe has clearly noticed because the amount of time they spend lazing around in bed has decreased just the same.
In the lounge they exchange their sneakers for skates and drink hot chocolate and eat cookies, and Will stands at the window and watches the skaters go by. The Rockefeller Christmas tree looms large over the rink, and it really does feel like he’s in a movie. It’s raining lightly, not technically cold enough for snow, but the mist over the colored lights lends a magical quality of its own to the whole experience. He’s not nervous. Will thinks he’s confident enough on the ice now that even with the almost-rain he shouldn’t have a problem. But Gabe holds his hand as they walk out anyway—before shooting Bill a cheeky grin and whizzing off, graceful as ever. His own pace is more sedate for the first few laps, until Gabe slows down enough to keep time with him.
“Looking good,” Gabe remarks as he comes to a stop. Bill makes a face at him.
“Not as good as you.”
“Baby, nobody’s as good as me.” On anyone else it would be bravado; on Gabe it’s simply truth. “Having fun?” Will kisses him sweetly as an answer. This was Gabe’s one big worry, he knows, that ice skating was a beautiful fantasy but wouldn’t be as enjoyable for Bill in practice, and he’s happy to be able to reassure his boyfriend that it is actually just as magical in person. They only fall once the entire time, and it’s when they try to skate hand-in-hand but Gabe’s too smooth and Will’s too shaky and they collapse in a heap that everyone else on the rink manages to avoid and everything is laughter. Some generous soul agrees to take a picture of them when they’re back upright, in front of a fountain statue and the tree, and Bill shoots it off to Carden and Chislett uncaptioned. His phone chirps back almost immediately: Carden says you look happy and that’s all he needs to say.
After, they meet Geoff and Gerard for drinks, and William’s only a little sloshed when he stumbles back into the hotel with his arm around Gabe’s shoulders. They make out in the elevator, Gabe unzipping his jacket and pushing his long fingers up under Will’s sweater, until they fall into the room and into bed, sneakers in a heap by the door. “Gabey, baby,” Will gasps out with Gabe’s mouth on his neck. “Fuck.”
“Bilvy,” he breathes back, and his eyes like dark chocolate, so warm and Bill feels like maybe he knows everything Gabe could possibly say. It hasn’t been soft like this in days but it is tonight, the way Gabe strips Bill out of his clothes so gently, sweater and undershirt and jeans and socks and lets Will do the same for him, leaving them both in boxers on the white sheets kissing breathlessly. Gabe’s nails on his arms send shivers down Will’s spine. “Let me?” It doesn’t matter what Gabe’s asking; the answer is yes.
What his request was becomes clear as he slides off Will’s boxers and kisses down his chest, his hips, and takes one tentative lick at Will’s hole that makes him squirm. It takes a few minutes but eventually Bill relaxes into it and allows the sensations to flow over him like water, Gabe’s fingertips bruising on his thighs and that hot wet heat around and inside him. His attentions are focused, single-minded in a way that Gabe only ever really is during sex, and there’s little that Will can do other than clench his hands in the sheets and whimper, moan, whine at every movement, every thrust of tongue that triggers what feels like every single nerve in his skin, hair sticking to his face and neck as he throws his head around wildly. By the time Gabe wraps a lubed hand around Will’s cock he’s already leaking, so hard he could burst of it, and he just doesn’t have the willpower to hold back against the onslaught of pleasure, he comes hard and fast, putty in Gabe’s hands in all ways.
“Fuck, Bill.” Will’s breathing heavy in the comedown but Gabe’s sliding on a condom, begging with his eyes. “I gotta be inside you.”
“You fucking do.” Fingers covered in lube and Bill’s own come try halfheartedly to stretch him but Gabe’s so impatient now, no amount of sweetness could stop him. There is enough sweetness that he shoves a pillow under the small of Will’s back and hauls his legs onto his shoulders, though, leaning down to kiss him with that filthy tongue as he slides his cock all the way inside Bill in one swift motion, breaking the kiss to shout.
Will’s too pleasure-sated and sex-drunk to take too much note of anything at first; he just hangs on and hangs in there as Gabe fucks into him. But it’s surprisingly slow, long thrusts and sweet kisses on his neck and shoulders, and as he revels in Gabe’s worship and opens his eyes into the look on Gabe’s face he can feel himself get hard again, getting a choked laugh out of his lover. “I love your dick so much,” he comments between kisses while paused buried deep, rolling his hips to put friction on the appendage in question. Will gasps and, for his part, just digs his nails into Gabe’s shoulder, thrusting back as best he can, I love you so much on his lips but unspoken. In the end he does say it, screams it really, with his own hand around his cock coming a second time right before Gabe does his first, pushing hard and fast and so deep into Will that it feels like he’s barely a person anymore.
It’s quiet in the afterglow, even the sounds of the city muted behind good hotel construction. Gabe pulls out but doesn’t move to go anywhere, laying his head on Will’s shoulder. The beats go by. “I love you too, you know. Right?” It might be the first time Gabe’s said it; it might not be. Will honestly isn’t sure but the way he says it is still so halting, so full of something that demands attention and respect and all of his love so much he melts.
“Yeah, Gabe. I do.” Will falls asleep like that, one day and one night left in the vacation but with the anxiety all drained out, in the arms of this man who gave him back something he never thought he’d have again. If he was sappy, he’d call it a Christmas miracle—and he didn’t get far at his job without being sappy.