Chapter 12 #4
The five of them got up early on Tuesday, the overcast sky only just beginning to brighten, and visited what was considered the closest thing to a central square the megacity had to offer.
At this hour the Praca da Liberdade was largely empty.
They took a stroll around the perimeter to get an impression of the different architectural styles, although Mo was the only one with actual knowledge—in all honesty, his rambling monologue about modernism and French neoclassicism was a strain for Leo’s sleepy brain.
Nate, on the other hand, was gazing at Mo as though his mere existence was the best thing since the invention of superheroes.
It made Leo hide a grin against Joshua’s shoulder.
“Please tell me we’re not on their level of ridiculous,” he whispered.
“We’re not on their level of ridiculous,” Joshua parroted obediently, following it up with a cheeky squeeze of Leo’s bum.
Leo twisted away with an outraged exclamation of, “Not in public. Have you no shame?”
“He doesn’t,” Tristan supplied, and Joshua pointed at him.
“Be quiet, you. I have seen things, and you have no room to talk.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Leo tipped his face back to study a tall building shaped like a colossal wave, and found himself grinning at nothing in particular. Just happy.
Afterwards, they took a trip up winding mountain roads to visit Ouro Preto, a former colonial mining town, and ate breakfast while following cobblestone streets through a maze of well-preserved Baroque buildings.
They returned to Belo Horizonte just past noon, and then Joshua, Mo and Tristan had to rush to get to the stadium in time for the match.
Leo and Nate ended up in a bar around the corner from the hotel, sipping on Caipirinhas, ice-cooled glasses sweating in their hands.
The match ended in a draw with Costa Rica, which meant that the England squad dropped out of the tournament with one sad, lonely point to their name.
To dull the pain, Leo ordered another Caipirinha, tucked himself closer to Nate’s side and ranted about the English team employing a guy solely to spray overheated players with water, yet the whole football thing appeared beyond their comprehension.
Nate made sympathetic noises in all the right places and patted Leo’s back.
The moment Joshua’s face appeared on the screen, Leo’s head snapped up.
“Well, of course we did hope for more,” Joshua told the camera, and the state of his hair hinted he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. Leo wanted to run his hands through it repeatedly.
“In fact,” Joshua continued slowly, with a little smile, “I actually have a bit of a tipping game going on with some friends, and it just so happens that my chances of winning it are significantly diminished now that it’s clear I got the champions wrong.
There are two of us who bet on the England squad.
Guess our loyalty didn’t pay off in this case.
” His smile broadened and he gave a small shrug, all bashful charm and—and had he just indirectly mentioned Leo on international telly? Holy shit.
“That was me,” Leo mumbled quietly, meant for Nate’s ears only. “The other loyal—I’m the one who also picked England. That’s me.”
“Stupid of you,” Nate said. “Kind of sweet, but stupid. I keep telling you, it’ll be Argentina taking the title.”
Leo shook his head. “You’re missing the point.”
“Which is?” Nate was grinning, and Leo shot him a glare.
“You know what the point is. The point is that Joshua just talked about me on TV. I mean, no one knows it’s me, and it was subtle enough that it won’t raise any eyebrows, but—Nate.” On its own accord, Leo’s mouth curved up.
Nate had the audacity to laugh at him. “You’re hopeless, mate. I bet the glow on your face could power this entire city.”
There was no use denying it. Leo didn’t even want to, but he also wouldn’t stand for Nate making fun of him. It would set a bad precedent. “Careful there, mate,” he said. “I can always bring the topic of Armani underwear campaigns to Mo’s attention.”
While Nate’s amusement was still blatantly obvious, he chose not to make a further remark.
Clever bloke. As a reward, Leo ordered more drinks for both of them even though they were barely halfway through their current ones.
Hey, they were on holiday. And Leo was very much in love, and Joshua had just acknowledged him in front of the world.
Also, the two of them would have to sit through a Skype conference about the public conduct of their relationship tomorrow.
Another drink sounded like a splendid idea.
* * *
“Honestly. I think you should have skipped the last two rounds.” Joshua was trying not to smile.
For the most part, he failed. “Not that you weren’t very cute yesterday, clinging to me while drunkenly rambling about green eyes and red lips, but…
You know. I bet your hangover is very real right now. ”
If anything, Joshua’s cheerful attitude served to deepen Leo’s frown. “One,” he said, shooting Joshua a grumpy look through bleary eyes, “I am not cute. Ever.”
“Beg to differ,” Joshua interjected.
Leo acted as though he hadn’t heard. In only a towel, still damp from his shower, he crouched down in front of his bag and began rifling through it.
He continued speaking, all the while presenting Joshua with a highly distracting view of his profile and bare chest, his calves and naked ankles.
“Two, I’m glad this is amusing to you. But my head is killing me right now, and we have a Skype date in less than thirty minutes.
So if you could get me some painkillers, that would be highly appreciated. ”
“Already done,” Joshua said, and Leo’s head shot up, then he grimaced.
“Well, then fucking hand them over, Princeling.”
Joshua rocked back on his heels, smiling openly now. “Say please.”
“Please, for the love of God,” Leo gritted out. “Gimme. Or I will never suck your dick again.”
“Now, that’s not very nice,” Joshua told him.
“Neither is withholding a man’s medicine.”
“Well, hey, if that particular man hadn’t decided to get roaringly drunk in the middle of the day…”
“But that’s your fault, isn’t it?” Leo waved a vague hand in the air, towel slipping to reveal the strong curve of one thigh, and Joshua needed a moment to focus back on Leo’s voice.
“I mean, if you hadn’t casually mentioned me in that interview, I would not have been in the kind of emotionally fragile state that made another Caipirinha seem like a wise choice. Therefore, your fault.”
Ah, so Leo had caught the reference.
Joshua felt his smile soften into something more private, less amused. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he watched Leo’s face closely. “Did you like it? Me talking about you in public?”
For the first time since Joshua had roused him this morning, Leo’s face relaxed out of its frown. “I did,” he said quietly, sincerely. “Quite a lot. Can’t wait until you won’t have to lob me into the general friends category anymore.”
“Same.” Getting back up, Joshua went to pour Leo a glass of water, restless energy humming in his belly.
If he was already nervous about the upcoming discussion with James’ team, he could only imagine what it must be like for Leo—Leo was the one who’d have to divulge his entire past to people he’d known for years.
That he was willing to do this, to pay that price just so he could be with Joshua…
It meant a lot. It meant the fucking world.
That Leo had insisted on also involving Tristan and Mo meant nearly as much.
They should arrive along with Nate in a quarter of an hour, allowing for about ten minutes to get everything ready and distract Leo with aimless banter before the serious talks were to begin.
By then Leo had better be dressed, or Joshua couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to concentrate.
With a glass of water in one hand, a couple of painkillers in the other, Joshua dropped to the floor next to Leo. Leo eyed Joshua’s offerings, then opted for tugging him into a gentle kiss before prying the pills out of his fingers.
“My hero,” he said.
“You can call me Prince Charming,” Joshua told him, grinning, and Leo flicked him on the nose.
“You’re not half as charming as you think you are.”
“Then I guess you’re just easy.”
“Fuck off,” Leo muttered, but he was smiling around the rim of the glass. He’d been smiling a lot since Rio, and Joshua hoped it would stay that way even after they were back in the UK.
* * *
Blessedly, the painkillers set in a few minutes before the Skype conference was due to start. Leo still felt a little queasy, but he wasn’t certain he could blame the remnants of alcohol in his blood.
With Joshua on one side, Nate on the other, Tristan and Mo sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa, he waited for the livestream to connect.
It did so with a noticeable lag, the image stuttering before it finally displayed James’ conference room, along with slightly blurry versions of Carole, Ben, James and George spread around the table.
Throughout the introductory small talk, Leo was mostly quiet and focused on keeping his breathing steady and easy. Joshua’s hand was a warm weight on his thigh.
“So,” James said eventually, clapping his hands. On the screen of Nate’s notebook, James’ mouth moved out of sync with his words. “Are we ready to do this? Leo?”
Sucking in a deep, harsh breath, Leo glanced at Joshua and found the Prince looking at him already. The nauseating pressure in Leo’s stomach eased just slightly.
All right. Okay. If this didn’t break them, nothing else would.
“I’m ready,” Leo announced, turning to face the camera lens.
It was partially true. “First things first, though: I want there to be a backdoor for Joshua. Plausible deniability. If this turns sour, I want to give Joshua the option to deny that he knew the details of my past so he can walk away mostly unharmed.”