Chapter 35 Archangel
THIRTY-FIVE
ARCHANGEL
I’m still out two and a half weeks later for the Myth League conference championship, which leaves too big a hole in our defense that the team can’t seem to make up for. Wolfe plays a spectacular game, blocking all but one shot, but it’s not enough, and we lose to the Monsters.
I’m finally cleared to go back to practice the next day, but we don’t even know if our season will continue because while teams who won their division automatically qualify, the rest of us get to wait until tomorrow. Everyone is restless at morning practice, and Hawke sends us home early.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask as we shuffle in from practice.
“Why don’t we watch movies?” Wolfe is digging in the fridge and pulls out a Dr. Pepper. “What’s your favorite gay movie? Let’s watch it. I need to be educated on gay media.” Every time he opens his mouth, I’m shocked.
“What? Why? There’s not a test.”
“I have years of bisexualing to catch up on. I’ve only seen a few gay movies, and I don’t want to be ignorant!”
“To who?”
“Anyone! What if I’m asked about it?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I fucking have.
“Who is going to be asking you about gay media?”
“Could come up in an interview–I don’t know.” He makes himself three sandwiches, then puts two on a plate, adds some chips and a pickle, and brings it to me. He’s been taking care of me since the concussion, and I really don’t want him to stop.
“What gay movies have you seen?” It shouldn’t be strange, but I guess I just don’t expect straight men to interact with queer media.
“All the usual well-known ones, Brokeback, God’s Own Country, Castaway—”
“Wait, what?” I cut him off. “Castaway?”
He has to be getting the title wrong.
“Castaway… Have you seen it?” Wolfe says again, clearer.
“The movie where he’s stuck on the island?” Am I losing my mind? “How is that gay?”
“Have you even seen it?” He sits down with his plate, looking at me like I’m uncultured.
“Yeah, what gay plot?”
“Did you miss the entire intimate relationship?” Wolfe puts a hand to his chest, taken aback.
“I’m so confused. He was alone…” I feel like I’m being gaslit.
“Did you forget Wilson?”
“The ball?” I blink.
“Yes, Wilson. Who he loved. The guy who got him through the most tragic events of his life.” Wolfe is shaking his head at me.
“Are you suggesting he fucked the ball? Did we watch the same damn movie?”
“First off, you do not have to fuck someone to be gay, and you obviously haven’t seen it. It’s very passionately gay and an allegory.” He bites the pickle and sighs.
“Do you even know what allegory means?” I ask, half yelling because this is absurd.
“Better than you, it seems.”
“I don’t think volleyballs have gender.”
“Are you being transphobic right now? Wilson uses he/him pronouns in the movie, and like I said, allegory.”
“I cannot believe I’m about to ask this, but what is it an allegory for?” I’m not sure if it’s worse that he believes this or that I’m asking.
“It’s an allegory for gay relationships and how isolating they are in the homophobic era we are in, and the loss queer people have to go through often alone, like they are on a deserted island, when they go through a breakup or the death of their loved one because they can’t talk about it!
” Wolfe is getting heated and passionate, and it’s kinda hot.
“It’s about grief and loss and the process of getting through it. ”
But also, why does that make sense, and why did he see it before I did? I can’t even tell if this is conspiracy-level shit or something a film student would come up with.
“I hate it here.”
“Learn your own culture!”
He puts on Castaway, and now he might be brainwashing me.
“If this is what you say it is, what is the detail about him delivering the package at the end?”
“He’s getting rid of his baggage and moving on in silence like so many queer people have to.”
“Did you take a film class I wasn’t aware of?”
His lips twitch up at the corners just a bit.
I throw a pillow at him. “Did you make me watch that entire movie with a critical gay eye to fuck with me?”
“No, it’s a great gay movie.” He redirects the pillow, then tackles me, pinning me to the sofa to kiss me.
I pick up my head to brush my lips over his, egging him on. “Do you have extra energy you need to work out?”
“You have no idea.” He’s been entirely too gentle with me since the concussion, and while I’m not complaining about a slow and deep fuck, I need to be railed again. “After losing and with practice cut short.”
“Are you going to take it out on me finally?” I don’t even hold back how much I need it. Need him.
“Do you deserve it?” he asks playfully.
I fight his hold, acting offended. “I always deserve it. My needs should come first. No matter what.”
“Your needs always come first, baby.” Wolfe kisses me like I’ve never been kissed, and it’s almost as good as when he makes me come. “No matter what.”
“No matter what?” I ask, not letting myself fall into the fantasy. “Only until we’re done faking this.”
“Even if we married other people, you’ll still come first.” He gives me a look like I should know that.
“Even if?” I blink.
“I mean, this is working out pretty well. Why would we fix something that ain’t broken?” He nods, and I can see the wheels in his head turning.
If I don’t put a stop to it, we’re going to end up married. “We’re not getting married.”
“It could happen.” He winks and shoves up my shirt, trying to distract me with his tongue on my nipples.
“Why would it happen?”
“People get married for all different reasons. We shouldn’t let technicalities come between us.”
“Those technicalities better turn into the blow job you promised.”
“Is that what you want?” He laughs and moves lower, skimming his nose down my abs.
My hips buck up into him, a little shocked he’s actually going to go through with this. “Yes, fucking please.”
Someone clears their throat behind us.
Wolfe freezes, and then, after a moment, he sits back. “Seaborn. I didn’t think you were home.”
“Ktytor was fucking right about you two. I cannot believe it,” Seaborn mutters, crossing his arms.
I scramble out from under Wolfe, probably bright red, hair a mess, and hard. A quick glance at Wolfe tells me he’s hard, too. “So we have news.”
“News? Is this news?”
“Sure,” Wolfe says, as awkward as I feel. “It’s news. We are dating.”
“Surprise,” I say because the whole thing feels absurd, and I’m a terrible person for not telling him what it’s turned into since he and I talked.
“How long?” he asks, the only question I don’t want to answer.
“Since the beginning of the season,” Wolfe goes with the fake answer, and I hate it.
“I thought you said he wasn’t into it?” Seaborn directs his question to me.
Wolfe glances between us.
“I talked to him the night I drove him home.” I explain to Wolfe then to Seaborn, “I thought he wasn’t and I guess he was…?” I don’t know what to say about it but we owe Seaborn more.
“I talked to you about Ktytor, and you didn’t think to tell me?” Hurt forms in the lines around his mouth.
“I got too caught up in all of it. I’m sorry. We should have told you.” I don’t know how to begin to apologize.
“So it’s real now?” Seaborn asks.
“No,” I say at the same time Wolfe says, “Yes.”
What is the real answer? I don’t have one. I still don’t know if this is real or fake. We’ve blurred the lines too much.
“We weren’t really sure what it was,” Wolfe says, and I think he’s being honest. “It’s not his fault. It started as a thing to piss his sister off, and it changed.”
“Changed?” Seaborn asks the question on the tip of my tongue. “I thought you were straight.”
“I’m bisexual.” Wolfe grins like he loves telling people.
“You can’t be saying that to actual queer people,” I say softly.
Wolfe turns to Seaborn. “You’re a fellow bisexual, so let me ask you this: if I’ve fucked a man, can I call myself a bisexual?”
Seaborn blinks, then looks between us. Finally, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Someone give me the full fucking story.”
We pretty honestly recap the events and awkwardly walk him through our situationship. We’ve been best friends for all of college. I give my parts without any feelings. I can’t even bear to say them to Wolfe, let alone Seaborn, although I know he at least suspects my crush.
“So you’re fake dating but actually fucking, and actually going on dates and shit?” Seaborn looks like his brain hurts.
Mine does too.
“Yes, you understand.” Wolfe nods.
“Why aren’t you two just actually dating?”
“Because he’s straight,” I say, exasperated. “I thought that was clear.”
“Bisexual, like I said earlier,” Wolfe corrects. “I’ve literally had sex with a man. That gets me my bisexual card. I’m sure of it.”
“Lots of straight guys fuck around with dudes to get off. Doesn’t make them gay.” I’m getting annoyed.
Both of them stare at me like I’ve said something wrong.
“Didn’t you just give me a whole speech on comp het a couple of months ago?” Is Seaborn on Wolfe’s side on this?
“Yes, I understand how sexuality works, but the person actually has to be attracted to the guy who’s getting them off. It’s not just about who you sleep with.” What is going on with the gaslighting today?
“Have you asked him if he’s attracted to you? Because you’re bordering on bi-phobia,” Seaborn asks, and it stings.
“Yeah, have you asked me?” Wolfe echoes his words.
“Don’t fucking add to this!” I snap.
“It’s about me!” Wolfe yells.
“No, this is between us,” Seaborn pats his shoulder. “Get a Dr. Pepper and let us work it out.”
“Let you work out my bisexuality?!” Wolfe asks, astonished, but he shuffles over to the fridge and grabs a drink, grumbling the whole time.
“I can’t believe that worked,” I say under my breath.
“Don’t play like we are good. We aren’t friends right now. I’m mad at you for not fucking telling me and for not even asking your best friend if he likes having sex with you.”
“Yeah!” Wolfe shouts.
We both glare at him, and he goes back to grumbling.
Seaborn returns his attention to me and waits.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
“Are you going to ask him if he likes having sex with you?” Seaborn leans against the back of the sofa.
“You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?” I groan, knowing I deserve it. I don’t know how I got so in my head about Wolfe just doing this to get off.
“You did it to me, and I’m much happier for it. I think you will be too.”
“I know he likes having sex with me but he’s told me he’s straight. Everyone knows that. You went and slept with a man on your own. This is different.” I know how dumb I sound. My brain feels like it’s twisted in a pretzel. I don’t know how I missed that Wolfe might actually be attracted to me?
I can’t process it.
Seaborn lifts his brows. “It sounds to me like he fucked you without coercion, and it looked pretty enthusiastic to me.”
And I know it was. I don’t know where my head is at. But this can’t be real.
Can it?
“Are we actually in a relationship?”