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“I still drink occasionally,” Skyler tells him. “It’s not a problem for me anymore.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. He wonders if he’s being offensive. He’s talking to a grown man, after all. But Skyler gives him a small smile and nods, so he says, “All right, wine would be nice.”

It should help loosen him up anyway. He doesn’t know why he can’t convince himself that this is just like any other evening he’s spent here.

“I have a Riesling from Germany that should go well with the stir fry,” Skyler says, opening the fridge.

“Sounds good. I usually drink whatever wine I can find at the grocery store, so I’m not picky.”

Skyler laughs like Trevor’s joking, but he’s not.

They’re both still on their first glass by the time dinner is finished. Skyler brings the bottle with them into the dining room—keeping it chilled in a fancy metal ice bucket that Trevor refrains from giving him shit for—but it’s a while before he pours them each a second glass.

Trevor’s pacing himself. This isn’t like the nights when he’s home alone, depressed, trying to drown his sorrows as he pines for the very man who’s right in front of him now. Come to think of it, he hasn’t had one of those nights since he and Skyler reconnected.

He does appreciate how the alcohol takes the edge off though. He’s been tense about this night, but as they continue to drink, he starts to loosen up. Starts to smile more, and joke more, and lean more into Skyler’s space. And that last one probablyisn’tsomething he should be doing, but Skyler’s doing it to him too.

It’s just friendly, right?

But then during Scrabble later, when Trevor gets excited over playing a particularly good word, Skyler looks at him and says, “I love how you smile and your eyes crinkle when you’re proud of yourself.” And there’s a moment, as they hold eye contact a beat too long, that Trevor thinksmaybe.

He’s not sure maybewhatexactly. Just maybe something more.

Then Stella chooses the next moment to trot over and swish her tail across the board, scattering tiles, and they dissolve into laughter instead.

They’re both a bit tipsy by the time they make their way to bed. Skyler’s set him up in one of the guest rooms in the same wing as his own bedroom. Trevor double and triple checks that he doesn’t mind Stella sleeping on the bed with him, and then thanks him even though he doesn’t know what he’s thanking him for. At this point, it could be any of a hundred different things. Or it could be simply for his existence, which encompasses everything, really.

It’s not until he and Stella are alone in the room and he’s trying to fall asleep that his fun, giggly wine buzz turns into a melancholy one. Stella’s already passed out, splayed across the end of the bed and twitching lightly in a dream, but he’s staring at the ceiling.

He can’t help thinking about when he and Skyler first moved into the house together with the band. This isn’t exactly like that, because Skyler’s room is at the far end of the wing, rather than two steps across the hallway. But still.

Skyler’s here. Under the same roof. And it’s one thing for Trevor to be sleeping alone in his own house. He’s used to that by now. Doesn’t mean he likes it, but he’s used to it. But it feels wrong to be here and sleeping without Skyler. His body is restless, remembering how much better he slept when his limbs were tangled up with Skyler’s. With Skyler’s warm skin pressed against his, unruly hair tickling his face, smelling like peaches, and Skyler’s quiet breathing acting as Trevor’s own personal lullaby.

If he was completely sober, he probably wouldn’t do it. But as it is, he doesn’t have the tightest grasp on his self-control. So he swings his legs out of bed and stands. The movement wakes Stella, but she only opens one eye lazily.

“Stay,” he says, and she doesn’t need to be told twice, eyes already closing again.

He makes his way down the hall as quietly as possible, then pauses outside of Skyler’s door.What am I doing?

Turning around, he creeps back to the guest room. Stella opens both eyes and lifts her head this time. “Don’t look at me like that. Go back to sleep.”

She sighs and flops her head down dramatically.

He goes to climb into bed but stops.

Feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, he leaves the room again. This time, in front of Skyler’s door, he lifts his hand to knock. But his hand is shaking. He can’t do it. This would be crossing a line he has no idea if Skyler wants to cross.

Most likely Skyler’s a little lonely and likes having company in this huge empty mansion. He can probably tell how much Trevor could use the company too. But that doesn’t mean he’s looking for company in hisbed.

Trevor’s heart is beating so hard as he makes his final decision, he’s afraid it’ll be enough to wake Skyler up. He turns to walk away, determined to fall asleep in the stupid guest room, but that’s when he hears the door opening behind him.

“Trevor?”

Shit.

Reluctantly, he turns backs around—only because running off down the hallway would be even more embarrassing—and finds Skyler still wearing the daisy leggings, this time with no shirt to cover the bulge in front.

He swallows the lump in his throat.