FIC: Evening (2/7 | The 13th Warrior AU)

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

Note: I'll be posting every two days, since it takes other people far less time to read this than it takes me to look for errors. :)

Evening
Chapter 2/7
Chapter rated R (language and themes)
Notes: For your amusement, our cast of characters (with more to come):


Ronild


Magnus

*****

Over the rest of the weekend Herger continued to show the city to Ahmed, and by doing so, tried to get to know him. They discovered that neither cared for jazz music (and left a piano bar early at this revelation), and both found Norwegians' fascination with American country western music to be absolutely baffling. Ahmed talked about the political climate in the Middle East, and Herger talked about the challenges of handling local and international business with Norway still using the kroner, and Norway's aversion to entering the European Union. And they talked about other things, too, staying up late into the night on Sunday evening. Even with the long summer days of early June, it was dark when they went to their separate rooms. Herger was groggy and surly Monday morning, leading Ronild to deposit a stack of sorted mail on his desk and leave him alone.

But with a rapport established, Herger sensed that Ahmed was growing more comfortable, and thereby becoming more open.

Ahmed went in to the Aftenposten offices on Monday with his resume and samples of work, and Magnus immediately offered him a position as editor of the English web desk; a niche position, but limitless in scope.

Herger celebrated this with two bottles of wine and tickets to an outdoor concert in the evening, where he watched Ahmed smiling a little tipsily in the slanting yellow light of dusk. On Tuesday, Herger held his usual staff meeting with a moderate hangover, but the single, simple memory of Ahmed's shoulders brushing his in the crowd was enough to boost his spirits.

By seven p.m. he was still at the office and not done with reviewing lease revisions for the Hugo Boss store. He called up to his apartment, but there was no answer from Ahmed.

"Should get him a mobile," Herger muttered to himself, and bent his head back to work. A headache was taking hold behind his right eye, and he rubbed his eyebrow distractingly.

The next time he came up for air, it was to see Ahmed coming into the office. He stood and threaded his fingers together, stretching his arms overhead with a groan.

"It is nearly nine p.m.," Ahmed said with a frown.

"So? You weren't in the apartment, last I checked." Herger dropped his arms and tapped a few keys to save his changes, then dug into a desk drawer for a bottle of painkillers.

"I've been there since five p.m."

Shaking out a couple pills into his palm, Herger swallowed them dry. "You didn't answer my call."

Ahmed laughed, but not in humor. "I should answer the phone in someone else's house?"

Herger glanced up from returning to the bottle to the drawer, and winced. "I'm sorry, you're right. Let me make it up to you. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, but I doubt you have. Come upstairs, I have something warm."

Herger quickly gathered his jacket, discarded tie, and briefcase. Ahmed keeping dinner for him—he could get used to this. Most of the time Herger worked late into the night and heated up something that had been previously frozen. The idea of someone waiting for him to come home—wanting him home earlier—moved him more than he wanted to say. Wendel, his ex-boyfriend, hadn't kept dinner for him in the last three years of their relationship.

In the apartment, the air smelled of exotic spices. Herger thought at first that Ahmed had made something Middle Eastern, but then he recognized the smell of miso soup. There were take-out containers on a counter.

Ahmed saw his look of confused surprise, and grinned. "It's warm, isn't it?"

"Ja, ja." Herger laughed, finding Ahmed's smile infectious. "Tusen takk." The moment stretched between them. Ahmed was fully grinning, and Herger beamed back, more entertained by himself and Ahmed than by the food.

"What does that mean?" Ahmed murmured. He was leaning gently against the counter but his hips were canted towards Herger, his posture open and inviting. He was wearing a crisp white shirt that Herger had given him, untucked and with the top two buttons undone, and he looked fantastic. It looked especially good paired with some dark wash jeans Ahmed had bought from H&M. Herger wanted to slip his hands under the cool fabric of the shirt and feel his warm skin, feel it heat under his fingers.

Herger stepped toward him, and Ahmed turned enough to meet him face to face. He straightened and Herger noted that they were the same height.

"It means ‘a thousand thanks,'" he said quietly, then reached past Ahmed to open a cabinet and take out a bowl. His arm brushed Ahmed's shoulder, but Ahmed didn't move away. Herger decided he liked the feel of Ahmed that close to him.



As June wore to a close, they explored the four-hundred-year-old fort and saw its castle lit by an evening sun, and spent a rainy Saturday at the natural history museum, where Ahmed studied the last thousand years of Scandinavian cultures. Herger trailed close behind for Ahmed to ask questions, and to gauge his reactions. Afterwards, they walked over to the royal palace, and Ahmed made Herger take a photo of him standing next to the palace guards.

"I haven't seen this much of the city in the last five years, I think," he confessed to Ahmed, putting his camera back in his jacket pocket.

"Why not?" Ahmed moved to Herger's side and they started walking off the palace grounds.

Herger shrugged. "It's not what my boyfriend wanted to do."

"But…five years? How long were you together?"

"Seven." Ahmed raised his eyebrows, and Herger chuckled. "Inertia is an amazing thing."

"Don't you…" Ahmed trailed off, and wouldn't finish until Herger prompted him. He finally said, "Seven years is a long time to go without seeing your city."

"It's not like we never left the apartment. We just didn't do this sort of thing." Herger led the way toward the water, thinking desperately of some distraction to avoid talking about Wendel. There was a wonderful French café not far from his building, on the pier. Maybe Ahmed would like a hot chocolate. The rain would likely stop while they were warming up. "As for how long we stayed together…well, I was afraid of being alone, I guess. I didn't want to break up with him long after I should have."

"Ah." Ahmed was quiet, and didn't look at Herger as they walked, sharing an umbrella. "That I understand."

By his tone, Herger could tell he didn't want to say anymore. He didn't want to spend much more time talking about his ex and past relationship, anyway. Being alone was awful, but in a way, it was easier than looking for someone new, too. He dropped the subject.



Herger finally finished his work on landing the Norli account, which meant a popular bookseller would be represented at Aker Brygge. To celebrate, at dinner that evening he had four glasses of wine to Ahmed's two, plus brandy with their dessert.

He hadn't realized how tipsy he was until they walked out of the restaurant and got in the car. He leaned back against the door and chuckled, licking his lips, pleased with the buzz. Ahmed was watching him, rather than the city moving by outside. Herger watched him back.

Soon Harild delivered them into the parking garage, and they departed. In the elevator, Herger leaned on the rail with one hand and watched the numbers tick up. Ahmed was still watching him.

When Herger blinked and refocused, Ahmed had moved closer, and then he put a hand on Herger's waist, and then he leaned in and kissed him.

Herger made a sound of approval and opened his mouth, touching his tongue to Ahmed's. Ahmed's lips were warm and wet and soft, and when Herger reached out, his body was also warm under Herger's hands. Herger tightened his fingers on Ahmed's shirt, wondering if it was going too fast to tug it out of Ahmed's waistband. He could barely believe Ahmed was actually kissing him.

"I couldn't resist," Ahmed whispered against his mouth. "You look so inviting—"

"When I'm drunk?" Herger smiled and moved his hands down and around to Ahmed's ass, just barely touching his fingers to the curves, not quite fondling. "I've wanted this for weeks."

"I know." Ahmed nodded and the motion brought their lips together again. Just as Herger was getting back into the kiss, the elevator dinged.

"That's our floor," Herger murmured, thinking of his bedroom. His face flushed with excitement at the prospect of getting Ahmed on his bed. He touched his tongue to Ahmed's lips.

Ahmed sighed regretfully, his breath gusting Herger's mouth. Then he pressed one more kiss on him and turned away, leading the way out of the car just as the doors started to close.

It was lucky that Herger only needed the pass code to open the door, because he would have fumbled a key with Ahmed standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder. As it was, he almost tripped over his feet getting inside, but he recovered, turned and pulled Ahmed in after him. He pressed him to the nearest wall, cupped Ahmed's jaw and touched their mouths together. And then he heard, "Herger?"

It was more shock than guilt that made them separate hastily, but Herger still wondered what Ronild thought of them when he turned and saw him in the kitchen. "Ja?" he choked out, and cleared his throat.

"I need to speak with you." He looked at Ahmed and added, "Also, a letter came to the office addressed to Herr Fahdlan."

Ahmed took the letter with some confusion but thanked Ronild politely. He went out to the terrace to give Herger and Ronild privacy. They watched him walk out, then turned to face each other.

"What's in the letter?"

Ronild looked affronted. "I didn't open it." He paused, then smirked. "I'm sure if you asked, he'd tell you."

Herger lowered his head and gave Ronild a disapproving look, as fake as they both knew it to be. "What are you saying?"

"He's nice. I like him."

"I like him too."

Ronild smiled and shifted the topic to his business at hand. After he left, Herger looked outside.

Ahmed was leaning his forearms against the railing, hip cocked with one leg relaxed. The pose pulled his trousers against his ass so nicely it was almost as if he had done it on purpose. Herger rubbed his mouth and went out, joining Ahmed at the railing.

"I apologize for the interruption. Ronild was going to leave me a message. It was important enough that he let himself in."

"That's all right." Ahmed watched the people walking about on the pier below. Most were trickling toward the grounds of the fort, where a football game was going to be broadcasted on a large screen that had been set up on a stage.

Herger felt his excitement bubble up as Ronild's news sunk in. He closed his hands on the railing, fingers gripping. His head was spinning, but maybe that was the wine.

"His news for me. Dale of Norway, you know them? The sweaters?"

Ahmed looked at him, squinting in the low sun, and nodded.

"They finally responded to our calls, and they want to open an exclusive store on the pier. Not just selling in tourist gift shops, but a whole store!" His excitement couldn't be contained, and he laughed and pulled Ahmed into a sudden hug.

He could tell by the brief tension in Ahmed's body that the hug had surprised him, but then Ahmed relaxed and put his arms around Herger's waist. A thrill went up Herger's spine as Ahmed turned his head to put his mouth next to Herger's ear, nuzzling, then said, "That is wonderful. I'm very happy for you."

Herger laughed again. He turned his head to press a kiss to Ahmed's mouth, then another. "But I have to go to Bergen tomorrow. That is where they have their head office. I need to pack tonight, and leave early. Ronild got me a flight first thing in the morning."

"Mmm." Ahmed returned one more kiss, then carefully drew away and walked toward the door. "How industrious of him."

Herger watched him go back into the apartment, his heart sinking. The mood had fizzled out; he'd felt that in Ahmed's brief, hesitant kisses. He wondered whether this cool manner was because Ronild might have seen them.

While the alcohol still made his tongue loose, he called out to Ahmed. "Can we resume this when I return?"

Ahmed paused just inside the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. "Of course." Then he continued down the hall and out of sight.

Herger blew out a breath and rubbed his mouth and beard. After such warm kisses in the elevator, that was an oddly cool goodbye.



Bergen was rainy and cold, unsurprisingly, but Herger had a good meal after his day-long meeting. Afterwards, the rain passed and the setting sun appeared, illuminating the wet sidewalks and streets with a beautiful yellow glow. He took a walk past the colorfully painted storehouses on the waterfront to enjoy the evening.

The Dale people had given him a sweater: one of the elaborate, thick, heavy wool ones with pure silver fastenings, which cost over a thousand kroner. Herger thought first of Ahmed wearing it, and had immediately asked if he could buy another one. They gave him a second one, also free. Now he had a big shopping bag stuffed with high-end Norwegian wool.

He took a late flight back to Oslo and got into the apartment after two a.m. The door to Ahmed's room was closed, and Herger was too tired to think of disturbing his sleep for a late-night kiss.

But in the morning he awoke before his alarm, his mind already occupied with the tasks he needed to start on to get Dale into Aker Brygge. He skipped breakfast and went into the office at half before six. When Ronild came in at eight, he had him order pastries and coffee for the staff. His generosity was due more to wanting someone to fetch food for him, and with a lingering celebratory zeal, than pure altruism.

He worked until his eyes were gritty, which was only five in the afternoon. With heavy limbs, he gathered his things and went out to Ronild's desk.

"You look terrible," he said, eyeing him critically. "Get some sleep."

Herger liked that Ronild was so forthright with him. Ronild was like his own male Moneypenny, with trim suits and sleek blond hair that hung in a wing. But even while he was so attractive, Herger respected that he was straight, and while it had taken some time before Ronild had felt at ease around Herger, they were now close friends. Herger suspected that it had something to do with Ronild witnessing how Herger's relationship with Wendel had soured, and then how Herger had thrown himself into his work thereafter. Now Ronild could anticipate his needs and navigate his moods, and respected that the love life of a gay man could be just as intense as that of a heterosexual…and just as lonely.

"I'm going up to crash. Call me if you need anything."

Ronild bent his head back to his work. "I won't."

Herger grinned and left.



One moment he was sitting down on his couch with a Euro Championships game on TV, and the next he was waking up to someone combing their fingers through his hair.

"Mmmm." Herger opened his eyes slowly, and smiled at the face above him.

Ahmed sat back, the couch shifting.

"Hva er klokken?" Herger mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"I don't know what that means."

"Er, sorry. What time is it?"

"After seven. I just got in."

"Damn, I missed the game." Herger dropped his hand and rolled his head to look over at Ahmed. "But that was a nice way to wake up."

Ahmed gave him a small smile. "I have been thinking—"

"Oh, I brought you a gift!" Herger went to his room for the Dale bag and pulled out Ahmed's sweater, white with blue and red patterns. He returned to the living room and tossed it into Ahmed's lap. "You will look great in it. I can't wait until winter, and I will take you out to the ski parks, maybe a holiday in Telemark—"

"I was thinking of finding my own apartment," Ahmed interrupted. He stood, putting the sweater on the couch.

Herger stared at him. "What? Why?"

Ahmed folded his arms and looked out at the fjord. "I have an income now, and—"

Herger made a sound of disgust and turned away. Ahmed and his stupid pride. It was just money, and Herger wasn't spending much more than he would without Ahmed here. He was having more fun, too; or had been.

"Herger, I am grateful to you for your generosity and have enjoyed spending time with you. Please don't think otherwise."

Herger stood at the window and shoved his hands in his pockets, playing with loose change and his phone. He tried to pretend he didn't see Ahmed watching him.

Ahmed continued quietly. "I don't mean to offend you."

Herger crossed his arms and turned around. "It's not that," he said, with a wave of dismissal. "I just thought we were—" He broke off and shook his head angrily. He'd been so stupid, assuming that Ahmed liked him; had wanted him. In all the flings he'd had, he'd been rejected more than once, but this stung more than usual. He walked away, going into his office, where Ahmed would not follow.

On his desk he had a framed photo of him and Wendel, of the two of them on holiday in Nice. It instantly conjured the memory of him on his knees in their hotel room, Wendel on the bed, Herger sucking him off with the sun coming in through the terrace doors and hitting him in the back. He remembered the smell of sunscreen and the feel of the warmth on his back, the hot skin beneath him, the thick heavy length of cock in his mouth. Wendel had come so hard he had kneed Herger in the ribs, nearly knocking him over, and they'd laughed about it afterward.

Thinking of it, Herger felt the familiar ache of loneliness settle into his chest. It hurt so much he could barely breathe. He sat at his desk and stared at the photo, thinking that if he was sweet about it maybe he could get Wendel to see him again. It wouldn't be the first time, although last time Wendel had merely given him a drunken blowjob and left while Herger was asleep.

It was too damn hard to meet new people—most of the time he worked too much to get out at all, but at the same time the thought of returning to the dating scene was detestable. He was forty-one, for god's sake; he didn't want to date anymore.

Ahmed had pulled him out of his work-sleep-work routine, but now it seemed Ahmed didn't want to be in the situation any longer. And if Ahmed left, he was back at square one.

Herger scrubbed his face with both hands. He had to snap out of this. If he allowed himself to get depressed, his work would suffer, and that was inexcusable.

He turned on his computer and looked up the score for the game, looking for some distraction. After a few minutes, he realized he was thinking over every word Ahmed had said, and he hadn't seen a single thing on the page he was viewing. He needed to get out of the apartment to stop thinking about Ahmed. The gym would help clear his head.

He called Harild on his way back to his bedroom. Ahmed's door—the guest room had become his—was closed. He hated to think that Ahmed now felt a barrier was necessary.

After giving directions to Harild to pick him up, he changed clothes, then took his bag and went downstairs to street level and met the car.

He stayed at the gym for close to three hours, running for six kilometers, lifting far more weight than he was used to, and swimming laps until he couldn't keep his head above water. When he finally went to the sauna, it felt like his entire body was shaking with exhaustion.

The gym was going to close soon, so there weren't many people left in the sauna. He gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the dry heat. He stared at the slats over the dim lights until his eyes unfocused, letting his mind go blank, forcing himself to relax. And finally, sweat rolling down his face, he felt his eyes grow heavy.

It took the shock of a cold shower to wake himself up enough to dress, and then he took a cab home.

But even after tiring himself, he found he couldn't sleep. Around two a.m. he heard a door open in the hall, and from his bed he saw Ahmed pad by in a t-shirt and underwear. Some sounds from the kitchen followed, and eventually Ahmed returned with a steaming cup.

"Hey," Herger called before he could stop himself. Ahmed stopped short, then came to Herger's door, a tentative shadow.

"Can't you sleep?" Herger asked.

"No. I made some tea to see if that would help." Ahmed lifted the cup. "Can't you?"

"Nei." Herger rolled onto his back.

Ahmed took one step into his room. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to offend you, especially after the beautiful gift."

"I shouldn't have assumed you'd be happy staying here." Herger stared at the ceiling.

"I am happy—"

"Then stay." Herger turned his head and looked at him now.

Ahmed was suddenly very interested in sipping his tea. "I will…consider it."

Herger sighed loudly and rolled onto his stomach.

"I received a letter from the Immigration office," Ahmed said to his back. Herger lifted his head at the word immigration. "The one Ronild brought me, before you went to Bergen. It came to you because your address was on my visa form."

"What did it say?" His heart was in his throat.

"There's some question about my eligibility to work." Ahmed sipped his tea again, calmly, but the silhouette of his shoulders had gone rigid.

"Dammit." Herger sat up and scrubbed his face with both hands. "I'm sorry. Show me the letter, I'll see what I can do."

"I will handle this."

"And if you get deported? Do you want to go back to where you came from?"

Ahmed didn't answer for a long moment. Herger's skin prickled with the fear that Ahmed was crying, but he couldn't see him well enough in the darkness to tell. When he did speak, his voice was shaking. But the words Ahmed said were of pure frustration and anger.

"For someone so successful and intelligent, you are remarkably thickheaded when dealing with people. You think it's so easy for you to sit there and offer charity for your poor case, and it makes you so fucking altruistic, but you have no idea—"

"I do," Herger said hastily.

"I don't think so!" Ahmed's voice rose.

"I've been told before." Herger got out of bed and approached Ahmed cautiously, hitching at his boxers. He could see him clearly now. Ahmed was watching him warily. "I know I crave control. But you can't…I can't…" He couldn't get it out. Didn't even know what it was.

Ahmed stared at him. "You…oh." He laughed wryly. "I didn't know this crush had gotten so bad."

Herger's face burned. "You are so…hard."

"I have to be," Ahmed shot back, that hardness in his voice visible in the set of his jaw.

"No, you don't. Not anymore." Herger took a chance, reached out to Ahmed's face. Ahmed allowed the touch, but remained impassive.

Herger's fingers rested lightly on Ahmed's face, with no response. Herger forced himself to go further, cupping his palm to Ahmed's neck, feeling the blade of his jaw, rough with stubble.

"I'm rotten at this."

Ahmed snorted lightly, turning his head a fraction to the side, away from Herger's hand.

"I am. I'm rotten at relationship stuff, but I'm worse at being alone. I've been single for almost two years, and I hate it. I'm forty-one and the last time I was single for more than four months was when I was twenty-eight. I've gone from one fling to another, none of them lasting more than a few months. Until Wendel. He wasn't perfect but we had a good time together, and even when it wasn't good at all, I couldn't make him go. Because then I would be alone.

"So I'm telling you," he continued doggedly. "I want you to be here." He stepped closer, putting his other hand on Ahmed's chest. He could feel Ahmed's heart beating under the shield of his hot skin. "It could be good. I know it."

Ahmed had still not made any response, but it seemed that his breathing had quickened. Herger felt like Ahmed's walls were coming down the longer Herger touched him. His jaw relaxed under Herger's hand, and his eyelids dropped. Then his eyes closed completely, lashes coming to rest on his cheeks.

Herger leaned in and pressed his mouth against Ahmed's. There was no reaction at first, but Herger was persistent, and he started dropping light, gentle pecks on the corners of Ahmed's mouth, and in the middle where his lips were full and soft, and his rougher chin, and where his neck smelled strongly of him. And when Herger returned to Ahmed's lips, Ahmed responded. His mouth moved against Herger's, rubbing and pressing in long, drawn-out kisses that made the hair stand up on the back of Herger's neck. The stubble prickling his mouth felt intensely erotic. But he didn't ever try to deepen the kissing, just enjoying this.

He'd missed this; just easy and friendly touching, nothing serious. In contrast to all the adventurous sex he'd had in his life, this was unique. It made it kind of exciting.

Ahmed let out a breath, and then Herger felt the lightest touch of tongue. Herger's heart started pounding. His fingers were digging into Ahmed's chest, he realized, and he forced himself to relax. He wanted more, god how he wanted it, to just tear off Ahmed's t-shirt and shorts and feast on him. But he couldn't; or rather, wouldn't.

"He kissed me like this," Ahmed whispered. Herger froze and pulled away, just enough to let Ahmed speak. "My…lover. Just like this. That was enough for him."

"And you?" Herger breathed. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Ahmed hadn't talked much about his Iraq relationship until now. "Was it enough for you?"

Ahmed breathed out a sigh that brushed Herger's mouth, and then bent his head back to another kiss. Now Ahmed's tongue tested the seam of Herger's lips, tiny little flicks that wet their lips enough to make them slide. Herger let him do what he liked. The blood was throbbing in his groin now, his cock getting harder by the second, and Herger knew now that if he took any more initiative he'd lose control. It'd been years since he'd felt so easily undone by just a kiss.

This had to be Ahmed's way of telling him he'd stay. Even though Herger wasn't asking for a relationship, or even a fling, he might get Ahmed's companionship, and that was enough.

Then Ahmed pulled away, and said, "I will send you that letter," and left the room with his tea. All business, no further reaction.

Herger choked out a laugh, watching Ahmed's t-shirt fade in the gloom. He closed his door then, climbed back into bed, and put his hand into his shorts. He brought himself to a quick and shuddering release that left him gasping.

Damn that infuriating man.



Ahmed faxed the letter to Herger's office, but it didn't help much. It was just a directive for Ahmed to make an appointment with the immigration office to verify his right to work. Ahmed would have to jump that hoop without Herger.

But he could hardly sit around and do nothing. He called Magnus Svinø on Monday afternoon. Magnus was in a bad mood, with the morning edition about to go to press and a hold up with the front page photos. Herger kept the conversation to the point.

"What are we going to do about this thing with Immigration and Ahmed?"

"I'm sorry to say this, but I'm not going to do anything. We'll see how it plays out. I have to go, Herger." A click signaled the end of the call.

"Fuck." Herger punched a button on his phone and pulled the earpiece off. But as soon as he did so, Ronild buzzed him.

"A call for you from the Office of Immigration."

"Shit!" Herger's blood pulsed and he yanked up the handset. "Put them through." There was a brief silence while Ronild complied.

"Herger Torgudson?" came a male voice from the other end.

"Ja."

"We understand you vouched for one Ahmed Fahdlan on his visa application."

"Yes, that's right."

"Can you explain your relationship to him?"

Herger's mind raced for something more suitable than "guy I met on a plane." His palms were sweating. He flexed his fingers on the phone and said, "He's my boyfriend."

There was a long pause. "You didn't put that here. You claimed he was your business associate."

"Well, yes. He's both. I didn't think you needed the additional information."

The voice was stern but bored, as though he heard such lame stories all day long. He probably did. "You should know that Herr Fahdlan's application is under review. We would like you to come in for an extended formal interview."

"I know he's making an appointment. Should I come in with him?" Herger flexed his fingers again, envisioning the two of them facing off against the government.

"Nei."

The vision dissipated.

"We will interview you separately. I will now transfer you to the appointment desk." Before Herger could say anything, the connection went quiet.

"Appointments."

Herger waited for the woman to say more, but she didn't. Finally he ventured, "Hallo. I was transferred to you."

"What day would you like?"

A choice! Herger hardly knew what to do with himself. He pulled up his calendar on the computer and said, "Sjette august?"

After some negotiating, he had an appointment and instructions to bring his personal identification papers and a copy of his business license. He finally hung up and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his palm and the phone handset.

What a fucking mess. And now he had to talk to Ahmed about their story for the immigration people.



"You told them what?"

Herger winced. "I know. It was the first thing that came to mind. I thought—"

Ahmed got to his feet and started pacing across the living room. "You thought you would say any damn thing and they'd just roll over for you, is that it?"

"I guess," Herger said. He wasn't quite sure why Ahmed was so angry, but the anger wouldn't get Ahmed to open up to him. He wanted to say whatever was necessary for Ahmed to calm down and act rational.

"I'm getting pretty tired of you doing whatever you please, no matter who it affects or what they want—"

"I know," he interrupted, watching Ahmed's furious expression. Now it was clear. "I try to fix everybody's problems, I try to control the situation, and I think I'm invincible. Anything else?"

Ahmed snorted and paced to the window, turning his back on Herger.

"We can't just ignore this," Herger went on. His face felt hot, a familiar sensation whenever he needed to perform damage control. "Despite what I said, the outcome is the same. They want to talk to both of us, so we had better work together for our mutual benefit."

"It's all your fault," Ahmed said to the window. "If you hadn't put your name on the visa form—"

"If you hadn't looked so pathetic on the plane, I wouldn't have even talked to you!" Herger got up and went into the kitchen for a beer. There was a sullen silence behind him. "But the fact is, we can either do this your way or mine. Which is more likely to get you deported?"

Ahmed was silent for a long time. Then, finally: "I don't know."

The sad truth was, Herger didn't know what their chances of success were, either. But he was used to working against the unknown, at least in business. In his personal life, he hated doing so, and Ahmed presented too many unknowns.

"Why have you been so resistant to my help? So I told them you were my boyfriend—that doesn't mean we have to make it true. People lie to the government all the time, especially for visas."

"It's—" Ahmed stopped and shook his head. He went to the sofa and sat, shoulders slumped. "All of this is too familiar."

"What?" That didn't make any sense. "Familiar? What, immigration?"

"No, you—" Ahmed waved his hand around the apartment. He looked directly at Herger and sighed. He was so clearly tired, beaten down. "A boyfriend who promises things that do not come to pass."

Herger felt a chill on the back of his neck. Ahmed was talking about Iraq. "Someone used you?"

"No." Ahmed crossed his arms, unconsciously defensive. "It was not—our relationship…never became totally physical. We did things with…hands and mouths, but that was it. I wanted more. That was something else he promised and didn't deliver. He was supposed to help my family and me, and we were supposed to become lovers, and we were supposed to live happily ever after. People thought we were roommates, a wealthy businessman and his journalist friend. Despite all the promises, that's all we were. And then his business started to fail and he wasn't so interested in delivering all the things he had promised."

"Ahmed…" Herger felt sick. Ahmed thought that he'd be the same? It had been a stupid situation, no doubt, and no surprise that Ahmed didn't want to repeat it. But did he think so little of Herger?

He had no reason not to. Herger had to prove himself first, just as he had in every other arena of his life.

He clenched his jaw, looking away. He could do it. He'd done everything else for himself already. Nobody had helped him get where he was.

"I'm sorry," he finished finally. Ahmed nodded grudgingly. "All I can say is that I would never want it to be that way. I will offer you whatever help I can give with this immigration situation, and if that is resolved, you can go whatever way you like." He almost choked on his breath, but forced himself to continue. "You could go now, if you wanted."

"No…" Ahmed said slowly, and met Herger's gaze. Herger's heart skipped. "No, we'll try this."

Herger nodded.



Herger lay awake in bed that night, utterly unable to sleep. He'd given up the effort around one a.m., and now was going over the agreed-upon story while the clock ticked toward three.

He and Ahmed had met in Iran and corresponded by letter, developing a relationship. Eventually they'd both felt the timing was right, and they'd met in Copenhagen so Herger could accompany Ahmed into Oslo. Herger had supported him for a short time but Ahmed had gotten his job at Aftenposten on his own merits. The immigration office could interview his superiors and check on this; he was reasonably certain the editors at Aftenposten would tell the truth.

There was a blur of white in his doorway. Herger turned his head and focused on Ahmed standing there.

"I want you to know," Ahmed started without prelude, murmuring quietly, "that I've believed all this time that you were being so generous and gracious just to get me into bed."

Herger looked at the ceiling. He'd left the shades open, and the room was flooded with moonlight. "There may be some truth to that," he admitted.

Ahmed pushed off the doorjamb and approached, taking a seat on the edge of Herger's bed. Herger moved his legs under the covers to give him room.

"If you had a choice, what would you rather have right now: a lover or a friend?"

Herger stared at him. He was too tired to think through strange ideas like this. After opening and closing his mouth, he finally said: "They're not mutually exclusive!"

"But you helped me because you found me attractive." Ahmed was sitting casually, as if he wasn't having this conversation, but was talking instead about the weather.

"That wasn't the only reason! That was the last reason!" Herger propped himself up on his elbows. "I wanted to help you because you needed my help! Or so I thought," he added with a grumble. "Yes I found you attractive, but that was not why I did what I did. How you look was…maybe two percent of the equation."

Now Ahmed smiled, and Herger felt his lips itching to smile back. He was so adorable with his face softened like that. "How about five percent?"

Herger almost laughed, but the fact that Ahmed was arguing the degree to which his attractiveness had factored into Herger's Good Samaritan act was too irritating. "Two and one half percent."

Ahmed chuckled now. Herger suppressed a smile. "All right, I believe you," Ahmed said. He sobered. "But you brought me here, had me stay as your guest, and refused all my arguments. You think I wouldn't be happier in my own place?"

"Now that was selfishness," Herger said with some satisfaction. "I wanted you to stay, so I used every persuasive argument I had. If you hate me for that, I won't blame you. But for god's sake, let's not string each other along. If you won't have a lover and a friend, then drop the lover part."

"You think I'm stringing you along?" Ahmed adjusted his pose, turning a little toward Herger so that one leg was higher on the bed. The boxers pulling around his thighs made lovely white edges in the dimness.

"Ja. Don't get me wrong, I love kissing you, but if you don't want this to become like…what you had before, then let's just stop now. We can be friends, just that. You don't have to do anything else."

Ahmed huffed, but he rose to the bait just enough to satisfy Herger. "It's not that I don't want to do anything else. It's that this situation is a bad one for starting a relationship."

"True."

"You think I don't know what I want? With you?"

"Oh, so you do want me? I haven't been so sure of that lately." Herger sat up fully.

Ahmed suddenly leaned forward, bracing a hand on the bed. The position brought his face close to Herger's, enough for Herger to feel his heat and breath. Herger narrowed his eyes, looking down at what he could see of Ahmed's mouth.

"I want to feel you under me, on top of me, all around me. I want to taste more than just your mouth. I want to hear you climax and for there not to be a pillow to muffle the sound."

Herger knew now would be a very bad time to kiss Ahmed, but he was just centimeters away. He could practically feel those soft lips already. Ahmed was barely breathing but Herger felt like he was panting.

Ahmed pulled back and stood. "But you know my reasons why we are not there yet."

"Yes." Herger did understand, and that was the worst part. "I know, and that's fine."

Ahmed absorbed this for a beat, then bent and pushed his fingers into Herger's hair. He tilted his head up and kissed him swiftly, so fast that Herger didn't have time to react, and then Ahmed pulled away.

"Sleep well," he said, and left the room.

Herger lay back, thinking that he would be awake for hours now, and immediately fell into unconsciousness.




*Edited a speck of norsk because my phrasebook is stupid and wrong. Unnskyld!

Comments

[tymoth-scogan.livejournal.com]

Another great chapter. I love the pacing and the development of their relationship. *sigh. So great.

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[elven-wolf.livejournal.com]

Delicious.

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

I like to think so. *G* Thank you.

[carodee.livejournal.com]

Great tension. I like how both men's pasts are creating a gulf between them that they'll have to work to cross. I can't wait to see how roleplaying for Immigration is going to add to or complicate their relationship.

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I hope it lives up to the expectation. :D