Chapter Twelve

Will And Aiden Stay Up Late

Aiden should have been sleepy, given the hour—it was two a.m . for God's sake—but the prospect of talking some more with Will had him wide awake. He reasoned they could stay up a while longer. They didn't have to be up early, breakfast might as well become brunch… and Becca could deal with being alone with Mom and Dad for a few more hours before they had to head back.

That last thought made him smile.

The first thing he did when they got home was to relight the fire, and to his surprise, Will chose to sit on the rug in front of it. Of course, he had to share its warmth with Midnight, but the kitty didn't appear put out by this. He'd already crawled into Will's lap, his chin resting on Will's thigh, eyes tight shut.

"You're not ready for bed either, are you?"

Will chuckled. "I seem to have found my second wind." He glanced at Midnight. "Unlike your kitty."

"I once tried to log how many hours Midnight slept in a day."

"And? How many?"

Aiden snorted. "Well, as impossible as it seems, in a twenty-four-hour period, he sleeps at least twenty-six. He's even sleeping when he eats. And in case you decide you need a little help in dropping off, I have a couple of remedies that'll do the trick." He eased a book from the shelf and held it out to him.

Will gave a mock gasp. " Moby Dick ? It's a classic."

Aiden stared at him. "And have you ever read this ‘classic'?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But nothing. This is one of those books people say ‘Oh, you have to read this.' So I did. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Then I reached page six and wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into. Sure, if you really want to know everything about whaling in the nineteenth century, and what a shit job it was to be a sailor on a whaleboat, then fine, this is the book for you." He replaced it on the shelf. "Or there's Anna Karenina , which I have to admit that while being as boring as whale shit, it did teach me something."

"What was that? And by the way, I liked the link. ‘Whale shit'?"

Aiden grinned. "I try. And I learned that in Russian high society—again in the nineteenth century—highborn ladies died from self-inflicted fevers brought on by shame or embarrassment. I'm not kidding. They literally fell down dead."

"I think I'll pass on the books. What's the other remedy?"

"Beer," Aiden replied promptly.

"I'm not a beer connoisseur," Will confessed. "I don't really see the attraction. They all taste the same to me." He coughed, then gave an apologetic glance. "Frog in my throat."

"Ah, but this isn't your ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill beer."

Will leaned back, his weight on his hands. "You keep coming out with stuff that makes me curious." He smiled. "I like that. So what is this beer you're dying to tell me about?"

Aiden perched on the arm of the couch. "One group I used to play with had a beer run every weekend. We'd take turns buying a couple cases of beer to last us the three days we got together to play." He peered at Will. "Your groups don't do that?"

Will snorted. "They're more the soda-snacks-and-chips kinda players. With the occasional root beer. I like the sound of yours better."

"Well, one of the guys, Jimmy, brought out this beer, and we all went nuts. And that was before we'd even tasted a drop." Aiden chuckled. "He told us about finding a list online that had the most outlandish beer names we'd ever seen. And of course we had to try them all."

"Well, of course," Will replied in a deadpan voice. "What kind of names?"

"There was one called Dark Helmet, with a sort of Darth Vader mask on the can. The Imperial Stout Trooper was a hit, a mix of coffee beans and fruit flavors. Another was Empire Brewing's Strikes Back."

Will laughed. "Okay, they sound awesome. What was your favorite—or did you like them all?"

Aiden went into the kitchen, and returned with two cans. "This one. It's an IPA and the best of the bunch. It's not easy to get, so I don't share it with most people, but you're an exception."

Will gazed at the can. " Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster ? The ‘Best Drink in Existence'? Whose effects are similar to—and I quote—‘having your brains smashed out by a piece of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick'?"

Aiden beamed. "You're a Hitchhiker's fan."

Will put down his beer can, picked up Midnight, deposited him on the rug, lunged toward his messenger bag he'd left on the floor next to the couch, and reached into it. He handed Aiden what looked like a Kindle in its plain black cover.

Aiden frowned. "Am I missing something?"

"Turn it over."

He did as instructed, and found a rectangle in the center, on which was printed in large, friendly letters, Don't Panic .

"Oh, I fucking love that."

Will popped the can open and took a long drink.

"Well?"

He smiled. "I like this."

Aiden put the Kindle on the couch and joined Will on the rug. He opened his own can, and held it up to Will's. "A toast."

"To Douglas Adams?" Will suggested.

"I thought you'd want to drink to your upcoming wedding."

Will stilled. "Oh. Yes, of course. To the wedding." They clinked cans.

Aiden sat cross-legged, staring into the fire. "I think it's fantastic, you know. You and Becca getting married, I mean. At your age, too."

"What does my age have to do with it?"

"Well, you're only twenty-two. I guess most guys your age wouldn't feel ready for marriage."

Will gave a wry chuckle. "And there you go with the ‘your age' line again. I suppose you can say stuff like that when you get to the age of twenty-four ." He rolled his eyes.

Aiden sighed. "You're right. I've got no business coming out with shit like that."

Will gazed at him, his head tilted to one side, his eyes bright, his cheeks flushed. Then he cleared his throat. "To be honest, I hadn't given the whole marriage thing a lot of thought. I wasn't ready for it to be this December, I'll tell you that for nothing."

"Yeah, when Mom drops a bomb, it's a doozy." Aiden glanced at him. "But you're okay with it, right?" Then he waved a hand. "Forget I asked. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Aiden repeated with a frown.

"You think you'll ever get hitched?"

Aiden took a drink from his can.

"Have I touched a nerve or something?"

He smiled. "I look at my parents. They met in college, and bam , they knew they were meant to be together. They were married before they'd graduated, and twenty-five years later, they still hold hands, go out on date nights, act like loved-up teenagers…. And yeah, I want to be like them." He sighed. "I always told myself I'd only marry when I met someone who…"

"Who what?" Will sat upright, his gaze focused on Aiden's face.

"Someone who took my breath away. Who, when I was with them, made me feel as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Someone who made me feel good about myself. Someone I wanted to be the very best version of me that I could be—for them."

Someone who's a whole lot like you.

And suddenly Aiden didn't want to talk any more. He'd steered way too close to a precipice, and if he kept on talking, he might say something that had no business being said.

"I've got a question for ya." He held up his can. "Is beer better from a bottle or a can?"

"Ooh, a philosophical debate." Will smiled. "I want to hear your opinion first."

Aiden shrugged. "Okay by me. I'm for cans."

"And your reasons for this stance are…?"

He counted off on his fingers. "Cans don't let light in. They're more durable. You can store them anywhere. And let's not forget the most important factor."

"What's that?"

He grinned. "They hold more beer."

"What about the complaint that they make the beer taste of metal?"

Aiden let out another snort. "Anyone who says that doesn't know how to drink from a can. Besides, kegs are metal, right? Most beer is served in kegs and those don't taste of metal because of it, now do they?"

"So bottles have no redeeming features?"

He stroked his jaw. "Okay, if you wanna age some beers, then bottles win. You know, leave them alone for three or more years, like wine." He cocked his head. "You can't argue against any of that logic, can you?"

He was starting to enjoy this conversation.

Will straightened, took a long drink, and then locked gazes with him. His eyes gleamed. "Right."

Aiden couldn't help feeling he'd just opened a can of worms.

Or should that be a bottle?

"To start with, you can't say that cans are better. It's a beer-by-beer thing. Secondly, there are too many variables to take into consideration."

"Such as?"

"I won't argue that canning technology and affordability have improved a helluva lot in recent years. But…" Will mimicked Aiden, counting on his fingers. "Cans are still a lot harder and more temperamental to use than a bottling line. And then you need to look at TPO."

Aiden blinked. "‘TPO'?" Will was talking another language.

"Total Packaged Oxygen. Because what a canning line producer says their oxygen pickup is, versus what the actual operational TPO coming off the line? We can be talking about two very different things."

"We can?"

Will nodded. "Unless you're talking about packlines that the big boys have, but most craft breweries can't afford those type of packlines." He stroked Midnight, who started purring. "On any given day at the same craft brewery on the same canning line, the difference in TPO can be massive. The amount of packaging required can influence the speed of the line. Then there's the staff's level of competency."

"Is that it?"

Will's eyes twinkled. "As Marisa Tomei said in My Cousin Vinny… ‘No, there's more.'"

‘Not a connoisseur of beer' my ass. Then his words registered. "Wait a sec. Hold up. You like My Cousin Vinny ?"

Will gazed at him with obvious amusement. "For a smart man, you ask some dumb questions. Now, beyond the packline, there are issues with logistics of beer supply, followed by how it's handled by retail outlet and the customer. You know, things like… how long has the beer been stored for and how has it been stored? How and at what temperature has it been transported?" Will's smile was almost smug. "I'd take a one-month-old IPA in a brown bottle that was packed with low TPO, that was cold-stored, cold-transported, and sold cold, over a two-week-old can with much higher TPO that has been kept at ambient temperatures."

" Now you're done."

"Not quite. You also need to consider what style of beer. Some styles are more welcoming to the ingress of oxygen. Bottles can withstand more pressure than cans, therefore the liquid contained can hold more carbon dioxide. The resultant beer is fizzier, and packs a greater flavor hit. Not for things like bitters and stouts, but for lager, sure." Will gave him a satisfied smile. "So yes, while the potential is certainly there for cans to be better for beer than bottles, it's patently wrong to say that canned beer is better than bottled beer."

Aiden stared at him in silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Wow. I feel as if I just took a crash course in brewing beer." He drained his can. "Want another?"

"Sure. You got any bottles?"

He rolled his eyes. "Damn it, I ran out." They laughed.

Fuck, that was one sexy smile. And how come I never spotted those cute dimples?

Aiden schooled his features. "So, you don't see the attraction of beer? They all taste the same?"

Will had the good grace to flush. "Okay—I lied." Then he grinned. "But you believed me, didn't you?"

"Totally. Remind me never to play poker with you." He paused. "So, you want to sleep, or should I find us a movie on Netflix?"

"Movie."

They got up off the rug and sat on the couch. Aiden aimed the remote and scrolled. "Okay, what are you in the mood for?"

"Not a clue. What's new?"

Aiden peered at the screen. " A linguistics professor and her family find their bonds tested when she is diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease ."

"Er, no. I'm sure it's a great movie, but not tonight." Will chuckled. "Or should I say this morning. Next."

" A rookie cop spends his first day as a Los Angeles narcotics officer with a rogue detective who isn't what —"

"And you can stop right there."

Aiden laughed. "Well then, how about a romance?"

"I could stomach a little of that," Will said grudgingly.

He snorted. "Is that Will-speak for Aiden, romance is my jam. Bring it on."

Will laughed. "Just don't tell Becca, all right? I'd never hear the last of it."

Aiden looked at the screen. "Oh, that's perfect. You've got a choice. The Bodyguard or Notting Hill ."

"The latter," Will replied in a heartbeat.

Aiden waggled his eyebrows. "You've got a thing for Julia Roberts, huh?"

Personally, he thought Hugh Grant was gorgeous, and as for that accent…. Aiden believed he could come just from listening to Hugh read his grocery list.

"Bring us two more beers, and put the movie on."

Aiden shook his head. "You've got a bossy streak. Does my sister know about that?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"Until after the wedding," Aiden added.

Except he didn't want to think about Will standing there in a suit, waiting for Becca to join him. Will smiling at her as she walked slowly toward him on Dad's arm, her wedding dress spread out behind her in a cascade of satin and lace.

Will kissing her as the celebrant announced they were Mr. and Mrs. Bryant.

And then the full force of Aiden's longing swamped him.

I'd be Mr. Bryant for you any day.

A thought he'd never had for anyone his entire life.

Dammit, we have so much in common. We're both into D & D, we like the same movies, we enjoy a cold beer—even if we do hold different views on which is the best container. Why the hell did you have to be straight and fall for my sister?

A miserable future loomed before him, filled with the family gatherings from hell. Because hell it would be, to see Will and Becca, all smiles and laughs. To watch as he kissed her, Aiden wishing fervently it was him on the receiving end of those kisses. To listen as he and Becca announced they were having a baby. To see their family grow.

All of this is gonna gut me. Every single time.

Maybe it would be better to skip those events. He needed to start weaning himself away from the family until either he got over his infatuation or....

Except he knew he wasn't likely to get over it.

Even now, he could picture Will aging, the hair growing darker, then start to lighten as the years progressed. The first gray hairs, sprinkled amidst the black. The fretting about getting old. Aiden telling him he'd never looked more amazing.

Damn you, Becca. You had to find the one perfect man, didn't you?

Will's eyes felt as if they were glued shut. He tried to raise a hand to rub them, until he realized it was trapped— behind Aiden.

What the…

Will blinked a couple of times, turning his head. Aiden leaned against him, his arm across Will's waist, his head resting on Will's shoulder, his breathing slow and even.

Oh wow .

He didn't want to move a muscle for fear of waking Aiden. He gazed at his face, which had taken on an expression of serenity in sleep. His long hair curled on his shoulders, shining in the lamplight.

He's even more beautiful than when he's awake.

Aiden opened his eyes and looked into Will's, then glanced down.

"Okay, this is embarrassing." He straightened, disengaging them. "I guess we fell asleep, huh? I don't recall seeing the end of the movie."

Neither did Will. He'd even missed his favorite part, when Julia Roberts did her famous line about being a girl, standing in front of a boy…

A line Will had wanted to use some day on his own boy.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and squinted at the screen. "It's nine-thirty."

Aiden grabbed his phone and groaned. "Oh shit. I have about a gazillion missed messages from Becca."

Will clicked on his messages. "I have just the one. You *are* planning on coming here at some point, right? Unless you wanna make your own way back to Minnesota? "

"Oops. Well, that's better than what she sent me." Aiden read aloud.

Have you kidnapped Will?

You took him out on the town and got him drunk, didn't you?

Do you need bail money?

Then he flushed, his cheeks scarlet, and erupted into a coughing fit.

"I dread to ask what you just read," Will remarked.

"Brother-and-sister shit. Nothing to do with you." Aiden pocketed his phone. "I guess I'd better feed you and get you back to your fiancée." He stood. "I'm gonna grab a shower before we leave." And with that, he walked out of the room.

Will frowned.

What on earth did you say to him, Becca?

Aiden stopped his truck in front of his parents' house and switched off the engine. The curtains in the front window twitched violently, and he chuckled.

"Uh-oh. We've been seen."

And when he got Becca alone, he was going to kill her for almost choking him to death with that message.

Man, after this stunt I am so glad you're not my maid of honor. Even if you would totally rock it in a dress and heels.

Aiden prayed she'd never seen any of the photos from that drag party he'd gone to during Pridefest a couple of years ago.

The door opened, and Becca stood there, her hands on her hips.

"Get used to that look," Aiden muttered.

Will laughed. "I've seen it many times before." They got out of the truck and walked toward her. Mom and Dad appeared behind Becca, who gave Will a pointed stare.

Yeah, Aiden knew that look too. Will was in trouble.

Becca inclined her head toward the trunk. "Your stuff's already in the car. We need to get a move on if we're gonna miss the traffic."

"You can't stay for lunch?" Dad remonstrated.

"It's a great idea, but I hadn't counted on losing Will for most of the morning." Becca aimed another cool glance at Will, and Aiden winced.

Yeah, it was going to be a frosty trip back to Minnesota.

"We'll see you in a few days anyway," Mom said brightly. "If you don't want to drive again so soon, your dad'll send you the money for the train. You might have to miss some classes Wednesday afternoon but at least you wouldn't get here so late."

"Lots of students will be heading home, so that's not a problem," Becca told her.

"You are still coming, aren't you, Will?" Mom asked.

There was a moment's hesitation before Will replied. "Yes, of course."

It wasn't as if Mom had given him much of a choice. An edict had been issued, right?

On impulse, Aiden grabbed Will in a tight hug. "Safe trip back. And thanks for last night." He released him and took a step back.

Will chuckled. "Thank you for a highly entertaining—and instructive—evening. I think we both learned a lot." His cheeks pinked.

"You can say that again," Aiden murmured.

A strident beep told him Becca was anxious to be on her way.

Aiden leaned in. "Want some advice? I think you need some sleep. In fact, if I were you, I'd sleep the whole way back to Minnesota."

Will laughed softly. "Now there's an idea." He went to say his goodbyes to Mom and Dad, and Aiden walked over to Becca's car.

She rolled the window down. "Did you have fun last night?"

He snorted. "Shit, Becca, whoever said you were good at sarcasm? They lied. And yeah, I had fun. I think Will is a pretty cool guy. And if you're gonna blame anyone for him staying over, blame me."

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, I do." She gave him a sweet smile. "Just wait until you bring a girlfriend home. I'm gonna monopolize her the way you did Will."

There was an undercurrent to her voice Aiden couldn't quite identify. "You okay?"

She gazed at him with wide eyes. "Why would I not be okay?"

"Because you sound… I don't know… nervous. Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. Everything is absolutely fine. Dandy. Awesome. I'd even go so far as peachy."

"I'd believe you if it weren't for the fact that you said all that through gritted teeth."

Becca rolled her eyes heavenward. "I said I'm—"

He held his hands up. "Okay, okay, I get the picture." Will came around to the passenger side and climbed in. Aiden stepped back. "Drive safe. And message me when you get there."

That earned him another eyeroll. "Sure— Dad ."

Will gave him a smile. " I'll message you, all right?"

"Thanks." He watched as Becca pulled away from the curb, and through the rear window, he saw Will raise his hand in a wave.

Then the car turned the corner, and they were gone.

"You coming in?" Mom rubbed her arms. "It's freezing out here."

"You know what? I'm gonna go home. I've got some stuff to get ready for tomorrow."

Dad nodded. "Good boy. We'll see you Thursday morning, bright and early, okay?" He grinned. "You know your mom likes to have all hands on deck for Thanksgiving."

He knew.

Aiden climbed behind the wheel of his truck and headed out, giving his folks a final wave. He hated lying to them—his work was all done—but he couldn't stand the thought of getting the third degree from Mom.

Besides, he wanted to cuddle Midnight and watch Notting Hill again.

And remember waking up to find himself in Will's arms.