Cabot
"And this is our tree," Gabriel proudly announces to the rest of the cast, arm hooked over Seth's shoulder.
We're shooting the holiday special today even though it's only mid-August. This ep will also double as the season finale, which means these will be the last scenes Scooter shoots since it's officially been announced that his contract won't be getting renewed.
The producers split us into groups of two—no surprise who I got paired with—and we were given an hour to decorate a Christmas tree since they're hoping to milk out the finale over a few eps.
We've already seen Blaine and Keegan's tree. They went for a blue and gold theme unlike Scooter and me who just stuck stuff on randomly while giving each other shit about whatever we could think of to keep the producers happy.
"Wow," Scooter says, stepping toward Gabriel and Seth's tree, taking in the impressive sight that looks like it belongs in the lobby of a luxury mountain lodge. "It's incredible, Gabe. Clearly, a lot of love went into it."
I grin. Have to hand it to him, he doesn't miss a beat.
With our on-screen storyline arc about to be resolved—we've gone from hating each other to mildly tolerating each other after learning we're more alike than we first realized—the producers are really gunning for something romantic to happen with Gabriel and Seth.
The guys break off into giving each other some shit while my mind drifts to the unresolved off-screen storyline arc that unfortunately doesn't come with a neatly packaged, sharply edited happy ending.
Me and Scooter.
I wonder what's going on in his head. These are his final days on the show, the last scenes he'll be shooting with castmates and crew he's grown close to over the past six years.
Is he mad? Bitter? Disappointed?
He's acting calm and controlled, his face going through the motions. But I've studied him closely enough this season to know they're camera emotions, which aren't necessarily the same as real ones.
"Why are you staring off into space?" he asks, appearing next to me.
Two cameras are pointed at us, still rolling. "I must've drifted off while you were talking. Happens a lot, right?"
I press my hand against his forearm. It's meant to be a mocking gesture, but all it does is unleash a torrent of heat and all the many emotions I battle with each and every time I'm around him.
I want Scooter. I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. But I'm scared it'll never be anything more than just some nighttime fun that'll end as soon as his time on the show does.
"Happens all the time," he jokes back, smiling like the pro he is. "But I bet you'll miss my sedating voice when I'm gone."
I choke on my breath, and the editors are going to have their work cut out for them to make that appear as a scoff. It's the first time Scooter's mentioned his exit from the show on camera, and it makes it all too terrifyingly real.
"I guess," I say, scrambling for something snarky to add.
Come on, brain. Work with me here.
But I've got nothing. Because Scooter hit the nail on the head, maybe more than he intended to.
I really am going to miss him when he's gone.
Sex won't be happening tonight.
I know this before I get anywhere near Scooter's bedroom door. Not because I don't want to let him ravage me, but because it's clear something more important needs to take place. Something long overdue.
I just hope it isn't too much for him when I lay out my plans for what I'd like to happen next.
I open the door without knocking since my visits have become a nightly occurrence. How no one has cottoned on to it, I'll never know, but I'm sure glad they haven't. I'm having the best sex of my life.
Scooter is reading in bed, chewing on the edges of his glasses. The bed isn’t buried in vet mags like usual, it’s covered in stacks of official-looking paperwork.
"What's all this?" I ask, walking over.
Scooter startles, like he didn't hear me come in, and begins gathering them up. "Oh, nothing. Just boring tax stuff."
"Oh. Okay."
I hang back, waiting until he's scooped up all the papers and tucked them under his bed, mainly to give him some privacy but also for the added bonus of checking him out.
His black onesie clings to his body, outlining the broad lines of his chest and the curves of his thighs sinfully well.
The neckline sits slightly open to reveal his smooth skin, and his thick brown hair is a total mess.
"Sorry about that," he says once he's done, a streak of worry still shadowing his expression. "Now, would you like to sit on my face or should we jump straight into it?"
I chuckle, and despite my dick reacting very favorably to his suggestion, I sit down on the edge of the bed and say, "Actually, I think we should talk."
His face adjusts, like he knew this was coming. "That's a good idea. What would you like to talk about?"
"Us."
He gives a firm nod, again like this is something he was expecting. "What about us?"
"A few things but, specifically, our future. And if we even have one."
"I guess that depends on what you want."
"Doesn't it depend on what we both want?"
Apprehension comes through on his face in the form of a pinched brow and a tightening around his eyes. "I'm going back home once I'm done with the show. I'll be living on the East Coast."
I release a breath. This is it. Time to drop the bomb. "So will I."
Both eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "What about the show?"
"What about it?"
"I heard they offered you a contract renewal."
"They did, but I turned it down."
"Why would you do that? What about your brother and his medical bills?"
"Do you know how much they paid me for this season?"
I meant it as a rhetorical question, but when Scooter shakes his head and looks at me expectantly, I decide to break my NDA and whisper the amount to him.
His eyes widen in shock. "Holy fucking shit."
"Yeah. So I got what I wanted, a decade's worth of money in a short space of time. There's just…one loose end."
"What does that mean?"
My chest cinches with tension. "Riff is being Riff and threatening to release the images and video he has of me if I don't change my mind and return for two more seasons.
I called his bluff and said that if he did, it would only hurt the show, and by proxy, him.
That seems to have gotten him off my back for now, but I don't know if it's a permanent fix.
Who knows what he'll do next? He's capable of anything. "
Scooter glances down at the papers on the floor by his bed. "I'm going to get that guy. If it's the last thing I do…"
I don't get what he means, but I also don't want to be talking about Riff for any longer than absolutely necessary.
"I like you, Scooter," I say, changing the subject back to something I do want to talk about.
He smiles at me, schooching down the bed until he's close enough to cradle my face in his warm hands. "I like you, too."
We kiss softly.
"Loadsmouth isn't that far from Clovelly," I hint.
He grins. "No, it isn't. And I heard they have a great diner."
"With the best whoopie pies you've ever tasted."
His grin widens. "More delicious than your ass?"
I chuckle. "You'll have to tell me after you've tasted one."
"I wouldn't mind tasting you tonight."
My cock throbs, my heart beats faster, and as much as I want to be with Scooter tonight, it's not sex I'm needing.
"Do you mind if we just…lie together? I feel like I need to be comforted."
"Of course. Sorry. I'm just so used to you coming in here to take advantage of my huge dick—"
"Shut up." I kiss his shoulder, tempted to reach down and stroke his cock, which I can see is fully hard, but I decide against giving him mixed signals. His cock can wait for another night. Right now, I need cuddles and to feel safe.
I climb under the covers and snuggle into him as he wraps his arms around me, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
"You realize you've kind of made my day here," he murmurs softly.
"Never realized you had a kink for getting sexually rejected."
I can feel his smile as he kisses the spot where my hairline meets my skin. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being brave and telling me how you feel. I should have done it sooner myself."
"What do you mean?"
There's a slight pause. "I've liked you for a while now."
"So why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I was going back home, and I assumed you'd be staying here. Didn't want to pursue anything that didn't have a future."
"Because long-distance sucks?"
"It's the worst."
"I agree."
"You're not just moving back home for me, though, right?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
"But my enticing giant dick…"
I grunt through my teeth. "I'd move to Mars for that giant dick."
"Just as I suspected."
I roll over to face him, needing to look into his eyes as I say, "I really like you, Scooter. More than I've ever liked anyone in my life."
He skims his fingers along my newly shorn sides, lingering over the close-cropped hair, his eyes brimming with sincerity. "I really like you, too. Last thing I expected, but you have a way of creeping up on a person."
"You make me sound like an infection."
His lips stretch. "Infections can be good."
"Nope. Wrong. Always wrong."
He laughs. "Okay. Bad choice of words. But I'm falling for you, Cabot, and I'm so happy we're going to give this a proper shot."
I smile then kiss him, happy and excited for sure but also worried about the shitstain that is Riff and what bullshit he'll come up with next.
Will my one-night mistake cost me a chance of lasting happiness with Scooter?