Domestic

Chapter 7

Soap kept his place on the couch for a while. A couple weeks. Watching to see if Marcus would do anything about it. And he seemed to, for a while. He came home earlier, he didn't sit around and drink as much. He was jumpy, any time Soap seemed unhappy, Marcus seemed flustered, begging him not to leave.

The love bombing came when he began to feel like he missed his old ways. He'd be out late but he'd show up with flowers. He'd come home drunk and in a pissy mood but he'd be up early the next morning to make breakfast and start laundry. They weren't sharing a bed, but they fucked in the shower and Marcus took his time, paying attention.

They went out together one night, meeting up with the same friends as usual. Soap was ready for things to feel normal again.

Since the night he went to Simon's apartment, the man had seemed better. They'd still been meeting up here and there, they crossed paths now and again at the gym. That night had messed him up, it had given him a taste of something he wanted to keep going back for. But they hadn't talked about it. Sometimes, he convinced himself that the possibility of Simon feeling the same was out of the question. Showing up unannounced was one of those things Soap felt made him unpredictable and annoying. Simon hadn't said that, he hadn't been angry, but Soap considered himself lucky. He seemed like someone who valued routine and Soap had inserted himself in without warning.

He sat at the table, they were the first to arrive. He could see Marcus at the bar, speaking to the bartender. Flirting with him. He wished he hadn't noticed the way the man behind the bar leaned his elbows on it and placed his chin in his hands. Marcus laughed at something he said.

He searched himself for jealousy, but found none. He found it almost comical that the man would flirt with the cop, because he had no idea how hard of a man he actually was. What it took to be a part of his life. He realized it just hurt him because Marcus was supposed to be trying and he was being so blatant about it, right there in plain view.

He watched as the bartender pulled out a napkin and wrote something on it. Marcus took it, thanking him, and pocketing it. He came to sit next to Soap.

"What was that?" Soap asked.

"What?" Marcus frowned.

"The bartender. The...the napkin. I saw you put it in your pocket."

"Oh, nothing." He shrugged. "Work stuff."

Soap suddenly thought of himself. Not of Marcus' feelings, not how Marcus would be embarrassed, not worried about Marcus' temper or happiness. He didn't want to be there.

"You were flirting with him."

"No, John, don't be ridiculous."

"Mm." Soap nodded, raising his brows. "I actually feel pretty damn ridiculous right now, watching you get his number like I'm not even in the room." He looked around. "I'm literally the only one in the room."

Marcus shrugged. "I've been sleeping alone for a while now, can you blame me?"

"Alright." Soap stood. "I'm going to go home, to my house and I'm going to get in my bed, and you can go and get in his." He dropped a twenty on the table to cover his drink he wouldn't finish and then some. "When you feel like actually working on this, you can come and find me."

"You're not better than me, John, you know that."

Soap shrugged. "Fine. Believe what you want."

He left. He had expected to feel a weight lifted, but guilt fell in its place. Maybe he was no better. He set his shoulders. He had never cheated. He had never crossed any lines. He'd wanted to, and held back, and that's what set them apart. But now....if Marcus felt he wasn't even worth that common decency....