To You and Back

Bonus Part 1 The Anniversary

After a long day, twenty-seven year old Charlie Hill entered the upscale apartment of his boyfriend, to find the twenty-nine year man waiting for him with a drink and a smile.

"You look like hell," Peter said.

"Thanks," Charlie said, accepting the glass and lowering his briefcase to the polished wood floors. "You always know how to get me in the mood."

Peter chuckled. "I have the jacuzzi ready for you."

Charlie scoffed. "Forget it," he said, sipping his drink—scotch, neat, with a twist—and walking past Peter into the sunken living room. "I'm too tired for sex."

"Who said anything about sex?" Peter said, following him. "You've been working late all week; I thought this might relax you, ease that tension from your shoulders and face."

"My face?"

"You're getting wrinkles," Peter said, pointing to the other man's forehead.

Charlie turned away, frowning as he rose a hand to touch between his eyes.

"A steam and a soak could do you some good," Peter said in a prodding way.

Charlie quickly cleared his frown, brushing his forehead as if it would help. "Fine," he said, glancing at Peter. "But you stay out of the water. Got that?"

Peter held up his hands, palms out. Charlie finished his drink in one toss, then walked down the hall, already pulling his tie free.

The marble bathroom was steamy and smelling of vanilla. It was done in black and white, with a double sink on the right, a glass door shower stall in the corner, and a toilet and bidet on the other side. The jacuzzi lay in the center of the room, raised from the floor with a marble rim and a step up. It bubbled like a caldron, the low throb of the jets inviting. Charlie, after taking a quick shower to get clean, sank beneath the turbulent surface and slouched down with a sigh. Eyes closed, he didn't notice Peter slipping in and dimming the lights, then lighting small white candles and placing them around the rim. It was only when the low hum of the jets was joined by the notes of a smooth jazz saxophone that Charlie opened his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, half amused, half suspicious.

"Merely setting a mood," Peter said, lighting one last candle. "Don't mind me. Continue."

Charlie's eyes followed him as he stuck a hand in the water, then pulled it out and adjusted the temperature. "Dare I ask how many you've seduced this way?" Charlie asked, completely amused now.

"None."

Charlie scoffed.

Peter smiled. Wiping his hand on a towel, he then laid it out on the rim opposite Charlie and sat down. "Beside myself," he said. "And the cleaning staff, you're the only other person this tub has known. Same goes for this apartment, and my bed."

Charlie gave a low hmm, either of doubt or indulgence.

"I had lunch with Michael today," Peter said, leaning down onto an elbow.

"I know."

"We spent the afternoon together, at his place."

A year ago, a sentence like that would have hurt Charlie. But now he only sighed. "I was supposed to help him pack up some things from the storage unit. Thanks for going."

"It was fun," Peter said, trailing his fingers in the hot water. "We got to travel down memory lane. And," he added, "we realized that it's been twenty years since we all first met."

"Has it been that long already?"

"We've all gotten old."

"Speak for yourself."