Calling Him By My Name [Armie Hammer + Timothée Chalamet | Charmie | mxb]

29 | Armie

My breathing comes in short, ragged gasps. My arms ache from the weights, my core from the crunches, and now my legs are on fire as I put mile after mile behind me on the exercise bike.

I'm bathed in sweat by the time I towel off and leave the hotel gym. I shower up in my room and pocket my keycard before heading out to the parking lot.

This morning, the air is absolutely frigid, but my expectations may just be skewed because I live in the land of sunshine.

I get in my rented car and start making the drive out to Timmy's place. Even though he's only about fifteen minutes out from my hotel, I was nervous about leaving my kids there. Not because I don't trust Timmy, but because I don't trust his boyfriend, and I know that he's been staying at Timmy's for a while now. I can see his motorcycle in the apartment parking lot, so I know he's in.

Timmy opens the door when I knock, and I can't help the startled little intake of air when I see him. No matter how long I've known him, there's still a little part of me that's taken aback by how beautiful, how breathtaking, the boy is.

There is nothing casual about the way Eric's arm is wrapped around Timmy's waist. I know I'm egregiously biased, but Timmy looks like a prisoner, shackled to his boyfriend by these 'affectionate' gestures.

"Hey," Timmy greets me softly. "The kids are eating breakfast. Come on in."

Eric nods in acknowledgement of me, clapping me on the shoulder and closing the apartment door after me.

"Dada," Ford chortles from his seat at the kitchen table. My heart soars at the sight of his beaming face, the fact that he's eating. I was beginning to worry that the lack of appetite would stunt his growth and development.

"I've missed you, bubby." I immediately swoop over and lift the tiny boy into my arms, kissing him soundly on his forehead, nose and cheeks. I drop a kiss on Harper's head, too, as I clutch my little son close to my chest. She looks happy, swinging her feet and munching on her Cheerios. They've been looked after well.

"Thank you, Timmy. Eric." I nod my thanks to both.

"Sit, Armie." Timmy rushes past me and starts bustling away in the kitchen. "Have some breakfast."

"You don't have to-"

"C'mon, mate. Timmy's cooking is really good." Eric pulls out a chair for me and I resist the urge to throw in a biting, I know.

"Dada dada dada," Ford chants.

"Yeah, bubby, I'm here."

"Dada," he appends softly, tucking his head under my chin. I hold him tight and coddle him lovingly while Timmy whips up something for me to eat.

"Timmy's parents are coming over in a bit," Eric mentions, pouring me a glass of orange juice.

"Oh, really?" So he's meeting the parents. Or maybe he's already met them. Lucky man.

"You don't have to be in such a hurry to leave," Timmy says from somewhere in the kitchen behind me. "They'd love to meet the kids."

"I don't want to intrude," I hesitate. "Really, there's breakfast included at the hotel-"

"No, no, it's fine. Please, stay." Eric sounds like an accommodating host in Timmy's apartment, and I don't like how much of a couple they are. My hand squeezes around the tall glass of orange juice.