Fallout (12 page)

Sambit who hadn’t judged him or pitied him when he’d brought up his past. He had no idea what had possessed him to mention that miserable day. He hadn’t talked about it in years. He’d told one boyfriend about it in college, when he’d felt like he had to give a reason for not wanting to blow the guy in the shower. On the bed, where he could be on top and control the motion, sure, but not on his knees in the shower with the guy above him, fucking his mouth with no recourse for Derek if it got to be too much. The guy had looked at him like he was damaged goods. They’d tried to stay the course, but within a month, the guy had gone on to greener pastures.

In retrospect, Derek didn’t blame him. They were nineteen and mostly fucking around. Dealing with a victim of abuse—Derek still couldn’t make himself use the word rape—who still hadn’t gotten over his hang-ups wasn’t on the other guy’s agenda. Derek had been sure not to mention it since. Until this afternoon when he’d blurted it out, almost defensively.

Sambit hadn’t run screaming from the room, and he hadn’t patted Derek on the head and told him it couldn’t have been as bad as all that.

Then there was the conversation at the end of the massage. Derek had no fucking idea what to make of that. Impossible things. Things Sambit couldn’t have even if Derek offered them. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, and who was Sambit to make those decisions anyway? If Derek knew one thing in life, it was that he had to seize opportunity with both hands before it slipped by. Maybe nothing would come of it. Maybe nothing
could
come of it, but Sambit didn’t get to make that decision by himself.

Derek whistled sharply for Fido. The dog came running right away. Derek patted him on the head as they walked back inside. “Go lie down,” he said as they turned back into the break room. Lyrica was still somewhere else, and the night shift was already on duty, so Derek was alone with Sambit. He stormed across the room and shook Sambit awake.

“You don’t get to make decisions for us both by yourself.” He waited only until he saw awareness flare in Sambit’s eyes to bend his head and take Sambit’s mouth in a forceful kiss. Sambit tasted like mint toothpaste when Derek pushed his tongue past pliant lips to stake a claim he hadn’t been aware of wanting until he made it. Sambit gasped into the kiss, twisting on the bed, but Derek framed Sambit’s face between his hands, holding him still as the kiss stretched out, deepening, pulling back, then deepening again as their tongues tangled.

“You taste like coffee,” Sambit said when Derek broke the kiss to breathe.

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Sambit said, pulling Derek closer again. “Let’s find out.”

Derek joined the kiss again, eager to see where it would take them. It would be easy to brush aside the blanket covering Sambit’s chest and caress the skin he had admired earlier, but he held back, not willing to rush the moment. Sambit was kissing him back, and that made this moment perfect as it was. Later they could discuss Sambit’s reasons for calling things between them impossible. Later they could debate the pros and cons of any kind of relationship. Later they could decide this would be nothing more than a precious memory, if it came to that, but that was for later. Now was for the world to fall away, leaving them the only two people in the room, in the universe, for all the world outside this space mattered to Derek. When they broke apart again, panting softly, Derek struggled against the panicked need to run from the perfection of the moment since his rational mind pointed out that nothing about it was perfect, but the urge to climb into bed next to Sambit and never move trumped the urge to leave. Not that he gave in to that inclination either, since the Army cot was barely wide enough for one man. It would never hold two. “That was….”

“It was,” Sambit agreed, his voice breathless enough to be gratifying. “I doubt it was wise, but it certainly was.”

“Why wasn’t it wise?” Derek asked, his voice surprisingly level. In the past, a comment like that would have sent him for the door, washing his hands of the man and the situation before they could take root in his heart. He’d sworn a long time ago that if anyone did the leaving, it would be him.

“How can you even ask me that question?” Sambit said, sitting up. “We have nothing in common, we only met through an emergency situation. In a few days, we’ll go back to our old lives and this will be nothing more than a brief footnote in a history book somewhere. I’m not out, you’re flaming. I’m Indian, you’re not. We don’t share the same background, the same anything.”

“Life will never be boring,” Derek quipped.

“Life will never be peaceful,” Sambit retorted. “We’d kill each other in a matter of weeks.”

“But what a way to go.”

Sambit sighed. “Will you be serious for one minute?”

“I am being serious,” Derek said, “more serious than I’ve been about anything. Look, I don’t know anything about India beyond what I’ve seen on TV, but it can’t be any more reactionary than east Texas when it comes to homosexuality. You have a green card, a job here, a life here. You don’t have to go back to India if you don’t want to, and if the Indian community shuns you for being gay, the gay community would be glad to adopt you instead. I’m not saying it would be easy, but it seems awfully cowardly to not even take the chance.”

Chapter 8

C
OWARDLY
.

It was a pretty damn good description of all of Sambit’s life to date as far as Sambit could tell, but he didn’t think Derek would want to hear that. “For one thing, you’re leaving as soon as you can get the second robot outfitted,” Sambit said. “That’s one of the things Lyrica and I spent the afternoon arguing with Tucker about. He thinks you’re nonessential personnel and that you’re in the way, not to mention a few less flattering opinions.”

“They’re mutual, I’m sure,” Derek said. Sambit shook his head. Derek’s boss had to be a saint to deal with his refusal to tolerate any kind of bullshit.

“Whether they are or not isn’t the point,” Sambit said. “You’re leaving in a matter of a few days. I’m not. I could be here for weeks or months more. There’s really not a way for me to leave and come back with the roads washed out the way they are, and they aren’t going to let you come back even if you could figure out how to get here. Not exactly solid ground to start a relationship on.”

“We could text, e-mail, call each other, something,” Derek said.

“That’s a nice plan,” Sambit said, “but how long do you think it would last? We have nothing in common, Derek. How many times do I have to say that?”

“A few more, apparently,” Derek said. “Look, you’re tired. You have a headache. It’s late, and it’s been a crazy day. I’ll let you sleep on it tonight, but don’t give up on me just because it won’t be easy. Sometimes the things that are the hardest are worth the most. Or was your PhD easier than mine?”

“Fuck off,” Sambit said, too tired to come up with a wittier response. “Go away.”

“What language!” Derek teased before leaning over and kissing Sambit once more, a light, quick kiss that was over almost before Sambit realized it had started. It left him aching for more.

“Dream of me.”

Like he’d be able to dream of anything else.

“I don’t dream,” Sambit said for the second time in two days.

“Then think of me until you fall asleep,” Derek said. “I’m going to work on the robot. I’ll be in later.”

Sambit watched him go in silence before slumping back onto his cot. This was so wrong. The most interesting, if infuriating, man he’d met in years actually appeared interested in him, and Sambit couldn’t do a thing about it. Oh, he could probably indulge in a fling for the next few days, but that was the extent of it. He knew better than to expect it to last beyond Derek’s departure, and he knew better than to expect that of himself. He didn’t do flings for that very reason. He got attached way too easily, and then it ended with his heart bruised, if not broken.

He had to put Derek out of his mind as much as possible while the engineer was still here, and when Derek left, Sambit had to forget about him entirely. Even if Derek left with the best intentions, he’d get back to his real life, to his job at NASA, to his friends, to cleaning up after the hurricane, and he’d be too busy to think of Sambit as more than a passing fancy, if that. Far better to nip this in the bud than to deal with the hurt later.

He sighed and pulled the covers over his shoulders, determined to take his own advice and fall asleep.

I
N
THE
other room, Derek resumed working on parts for the second robot, his mind racing. Fido wandered in and lay down next to him after a few minutes. Derek rubbed the dog’s side. “So, Fido,” he said as he fiddled with a camera attachment he was trying to install on a thin robotic arm, “how do I convince Sam I’m serious? He thinks I’m going home in a few days—and we’ll see about that, mind you—and forget about him. I think he’s wrong, but words aren’t working, so I’m going to have to try something else. Any suggestions?”

Fido nudged Derek’s thigh with his muzzle until Derek stroked his head a few times before returning to work. A moment later, he looked back at the dog. “That’s brilliant! A touch here, a caress there. Nothing obvious, just affection.” He got the camera installed to his satisfaction and looked around at what else he could work on before he got the actual robot. “Now what can I do?”

Not finding anything else he could prep for the robot, he wandered down the hall to the restroom. He needed a shower, but the power plant didn’t have any facilities. He’d have to settle for a sponge bath. Pulling his shirt over his head, he squirted some soap onto a paper towel and scrubbed at his chest and underarms. “If I had my toolbox, I could rig something up in here so we could actually take a shower,” he told Fido, who had followed him down the hall. He grinned suddenly. “I bet there’s a toolbox in the janitor’s closet. I wonder where Lyrica is. She can let me in, and I can get what I need tonight. I’ll start first thing in the morning, and we’ll have a shower by lunchtime. Think Sam would let me blow him after he’s cleaned up? I’m not leaving without getting my hands on him at least once. I don’t want him to forget me once I’m gone.”

He rinsed off as much as he could in the restroom sink, already looking forward to a real shower. He grimaced at the smelly T-shirt when he put it back on, but he didn’t figure Lyrica would appreciate him walking around shirtless, and he didn’t want to give Tucker any more reason to try to get rid of him before he’d completed a few little projects. He might have to leave eventually, but before he did, he was going to do everything he could to make the rest of Sambit’s sojourn here as comfortable as possible.

He found Lyrica in the control room with Jeremiah, Melanie, and Thomas. Jeremiah scowled at him but didn’t say anything, so Derek didn’t acknowledge the sour look on his face. “Could I steal you away for a few minutes, Lyrica? I have a couple of questions.”

“Sure,” Lyrica said. “We were just finishing up here anyway.”

When they were out in the hallway, Derek said, “Sam told me about Tucker trying to get me out of here, and I figure I can’t fight it forever, but while I’m here, I might be able to do a few other things to make life more comfortable for everyone besides just building my robot.”

“What did you have in mind?” Lyrica asked.

“I was thinking a shower, first of all,” Derek said. “With permission and the right tools, I could rip out one of the sinks and rig a temporary shower in its place. If I can find some tubing, I might even be able to do it without taking out the sink. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, but it would at least be running water from above people’s heads. If you’re going to be here for months like Sam thinks, you’ll need something.”

“Permission granted,” Lyrica said immediately. “What do you need in terms of tools?”

“I figure the maintenance area ought to have what I need,” Derek said. “A wrench and some plumber’s tape are all I have to have. And a hammer if I have to break into the wall to reroute the pipes on that one sink.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lyrica said. “I’ll give you permission if it does, but it would be easier to explain a modified sink than a hole in the wall.”

“Not to mention that it would be easier work to modify the sink than to reroute a bunch of pipes,” Derek agreed. “I was also thinking if I could find some plywood and some two-by-fours, I could make partitions so people could have some privacy, at least visual privacy, around their cots. Maybe they’ll bring in trailers or something for you to live in eventually, but until they do, not worrying about the person in the next cot watching you sleep might make life a little more comfortable too.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Lyrica said, “but what’s with the sudden impulse to helpfulness? I’d think you’d want nothing more than to shake the dust off your feet on the way out of here.”

Derek felt his cheeks heat, but he shrugged. “I was in the restroom trying to clean up, and it seemed like the thing to do.”

“And this wouldn’t have anything to do with Sambit staying?”