Welcome back to the Round Robin! If you havne’t read yet, you might want to catch here first:
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As he was walking away, Xander could feel Peter’s eyes on him. He tried not to wonder what Peter was thinking, but despite the week of insanity, of dreading seeing Peter, he hadn’t forgotten a moment of the weekend before. He couldn’t seem to forget the feel of Peter’s hands on him, lips ghosting over his skin, the feel of Peter’s heat surrounding him.
No, even with the dread and worry, he’d jacked off to those very memories more than once.
Sometimes, more than once per night.
He really had a problem.
He knew he was being an ass. He’d been an ass the weekend before, leaving the way he did, and that was no small part of his anxiety. Peter hadn’t exactly asked him to stay, but then again, Peter had passed out right after sex, so it’s not like he could have. Even so, Xander didn’t know how to do the “stay until morning” thing. Quick fucks didn’t expect it. But he’d known, somehow, that Peter had been.
Then there was the fact that he hadn’t gone out of his way to even ask for Peter’s number. He hadn’t left his behind. He’d made it loud and clear he didn’t want more.
And for reasons he couldn’t seem to settle in this head, for the first time since he’d discovered what it was like to have sex with someone besides himself, that felt… wrong. He didn’t think it was his attraction to Peter or that the idea of fucking him again made his cock sit up and beg. There was something more below the surface and it bugged him.
No matter what was causing it, he could recognize that fucking Peter as he had, then leaving without a word had been a dick move. Even if he was convinced someone like Peter wouldn’t want someone like him for more than a quick fuck, he’d recognized Peter wasn’t one for hook-ups he was. So, even if it made no sense to him, Peter had asked Xander to his house and they had fucked. Which meant, somewhere deep inside, Xander knew Peter would have wanted more.
So, lunch in hand, he marched back across the site, trying to talk himself into not being the same kind of ass. He’d known Peter wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy and not only had he ignored that and fucked the man, but he’d treated Peter like shit, anyway. His confusion didn’t justify being a dick.
This was why he sucked at interpersonal relationships.
But he liked to think he wasn’t completely brain dead. He had some decent qualities. And he could draw on them, and do something about the mess he’d caused. Maybe if he apologized, told Peter he didn’t do dating and relationships and the like, they could get past this horrible awkwardness.
Peter had taken a spot away from the rest of the workers under a tree. He had two bottles of water next to him and his own paper bag in his lap. Xander screwed up his courage as he approached, plopped down next to Peter against the tree, and blurted, “I’m sorry.”
Peter blinked at him. “Sorry?”
Xander knew his face was red. Late September may still have been warm where they lived, but he knew the weather had nothing to do with the heat in his face. “Yeah—” He stopped to clear his throat, annoyed his voice would choose then to break. “Yeah. I, uh, well… shit,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.”
He opened his eyes to see Peter staring at him with an inscrutable expression. “Why?”
Fuck. This is why he should have kept his mouth shut. He’d hoped, maybe, the apology would be enough. He should have guessed it wouldn’t be. “It’s… I… well, I mean, because.” Eloquent, idiot.
“Because. That’s… that’s a good reason,” Peter said, nodding. “That clears everything up.” Peter didn’t speak for a while, instead seemed to focus on his food.
Xander followed his lead and pulled out his own sandwiches. He unwrapped the first ham and cheese and bit into it, hoping perhaps someone had poisoned it for him. He couldn’t be so lucky.
The sandwich was fine, but the tension between the two of them seemed to grow so thick, Xander’s stomach churned. He forced himself to eat, but the longer the silence sat, the harder it got to focus.
“So…” Peter finally said.
“Yeah, so,” Xander mumbled, his cheeks heating again. “Look, I don’t… and you don’t… and you didn’t… and I know… and, you know.”
He finally looked up to see Peter staring at him. “You just had a full conversation with yourself there and I have no idea what I’m supposed to know.”
“I seriously need to just…” Xander shook his head. “I don’t do this.”
Peter blinked at him. “Don’t do this? What’s this?”
Xander waved between them. “This.”
Peter looked confused, now. “What’s this?”
Xander banged his head against the tree and wondered if a freak tornado would show up and swallow him. It’d be less painful than this was.
“Us. I don’t… relationships,” he finally blurted. “I don’t do relationships.”
Xander’s heart thudded at the closed off look on Peter’s face. This was why he didn’t do this. The one time he’d tried, the one time he’d thought maybe he wanted more, the guy had made it perfectly clear Xander was good for fucking but that was it. He’d grabbed his clothes and taken off so fast, Xander’s head had spun. He’d hadn’t tried since.
Peter nodded, expression still unreadable. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Fuck.” Xander frowned, scowling down at his sandwich. The guy could say something more. Yeah, he’d been an ass, but Peter hadn’t gone out of his way to talk to him or come see him, either, had he? Peter hadn’t asked him to stay, had he? What the fuck?
“Look, I’ve only got a few weeks left. You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to while I’m here. I never said anything about… hell, I never said anything. We fucked. You don’t want someone like me, I get it, it was a mistake. Okay?” He shoved the sandwich back in this back and got to his feet. “I’ll stay out of your way, and be out of your hair soon.”