Page 39 of The Barn: Frost and Q
He couldn’t imagine leaving Q, not now, not when things were going well. He felt comfortable with his lover now. He felt like they had something good going on, like their marriage was solid. He would be damned if he messed that up with work.
Q stared at him. “No, I’m not ready to go back to fire jumping, actually, because I can no longer jump, but we both know that you love it.”
“I love you.”
“Also incredibly good news.” Q grinned at him and winked. The expression, though, in those eyes was serious. “Sure, but I don’t want you to give up something that you love.”
“What is it you think that I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, what do you think?”
What did he think? There were so many fucking thoughts in his head, he didn’t even know where to start.
“You’re complicating things.” He went with that. It was easier than the truth. “I’m just not ready.”
“You love it though.” Quentin wasn’t going to give this up, he could tell.
“I love you more.”
“Okay, so let me work this out. It’s not like you have to sacrifice this. You know that’s not a thing, right? You don’t have to give up your dreams because I can’t do it anymore. You know that, right?”
Maybe he did. The simple fact was that it was his fault that Quentin couldn’t do it anymore.
Quentin shook his head and sat down his plate. “I need you to listen to me.”
“Can’t we just eat?” He didn’t want to poke at this. It was sore, and it just needed a little more healing.
Q shook his head. “No. We can’t. Don’t make me say my safe word to shut you up. Is that clear? We have to talk about this.”
He set his plate down as well. “Why? Why do we have to talk about this?”
“Because we never have. I got shot in the head.”
His stomach cramped. “I’m fully aware of that.”
“Excellent. I’m glad. I mean, I’m glad you’re aware, not that I got shot. You know…not to be a Pollyanna or anything, but in the grand scheme of getting a shot in the head-ness, I did pretty good.”
Frost shook his head, needing this to stop. “I know that too. I just don’t want to talk about this. I’m not going back to work.”
“Frost, you love it. I love you. You love me, but you can’t just give up your career, your life, because you feel guilty.”
“I don’t feel guilty.” The words were automatic, and Q slapped his hand on the couch, making him jump.
“You’re lying. Look, the crazy son of a bitch got all pissy because he wanted money, because he thought he earned something by right of genetics or whatever. He’s an asshole. He’s dead now. I’m not.” Q stared at him. “In fact, I think I’m doing pretty good job, just getting my life back together. I’m never going to jump out of planes. I’m never going to be the firefighter that you are. I wasn’t going to be that anyway. I’ve got mad skills, but not on the ground. If you don’t want to go actually do the job, go train.”
“It’s the going I don’t want to do. I don’t want to go.” He was sick to his stomach, because he wasn’t supposed to want to do this, to leave this place and go do something else.
“Liar. Listen to me, man. You’ve got an amazing life. You’ve got this great job. You’ve got a great place to come back to. You have an amazing husband.” Q winked at him. “And if I thought that you were giving up smoke jumping because you were retiring and because that was what you wanted? I’d be all in. But that’s a lie. You miss it, and you’re in your prime. Go fight fires.”
“You make my head hurt.”
“I’ve heard that about me. I just want you to know that you’re free to do your job. I want you to know that you’re okay.” Quentin shrugged. “Not only that, but I want you to know that I’m okay.”
“I’m…” He took a deep breath, remembering his promise to himself. Honesty. No lying, no guilt. “I’m getting to okay, Q. You and me? That feels great. It feels like us. Not like old times, but like us now.” He held up a hand when Q drew breath to speak. “But it feels new, like I need to be here to nurture it.”
Quentin stared at him, lips pursed. “Are you afraid?”
Was he? “A little. I don’t want to tip the balance back. I like being with you in person.”
