when Daniel picked up the phone. "I'm bored and want company. Want to play with me?"
There was a pause, and Daniel said, "I'm pretty busy today, Dunie."
"Oh -- okay. That's cool. Are you going to the Marcuses' barbeque tomorrow?" He leaned against the wall, pulling his pajama sleeves over his hands against the morning chill.
"I can't -- the deadline for the next comic is Friday and I've still got fifteen pages to do."
"Oh," Dune said again. "Well, work's important. Talk to you later, then?"
"Dune," Daniel said, "look. Here's the thing. You're really fun to be with and everything, but it's just that -- you're -- well --"
"What?" Dune said when Daniel paused.
Daniel sighed. "Do you have any idea how many of our conversations have started with you saying you're bored? Eight of the last ten, including this one. It's like I exist only to amuse you."
"Daniel," Dune said in surprise. "You don't. I know you don't. I don't only call you when I'm bored, do I?"
"You also call me when you're horny."
There was no denying that. Dune pressed his lips together. "So what are you saying?" he said finally.
"I'm saying," Daniel said, and there was no teasing in his tone, "I think we should see other people. And I know you already see other people, so I think it's time I see other people, too."
"Oh," Dune said quietly, and thought, I'm being dumped. Holy shit. He's dumping me right here and now.
"But, I wouldn't worry. You have a dozen people who'd drop everything to sleep with you. You could open your window and whistle and they'd come running. The rest of us have to just work on it a little."
"It's not just that. I like you."
Daniel sighed again. "You like everybody and everybody likes you, so I wouldn't worry about that either. I've got work to do. You'll be fine. You always are. Bye, Dune." He hung up.
"Bye," Dune said to the dial tone and hung up his own phone, his good mood utterly deflated. The arrangement between them had always seemed just fine to his mind: no strings, no expectations, just the two of them when they didn't have anything better planned.
But that was the trouble, wasn't that what Daniel was saying? Daniel was tired of being a backup plan -- and Dune knew he'd made no secret of letting Daniel know he thought of him that way. It had never occurred to him Daniel would mind.
Dune started to reach for the phone again, then put it down and went into his bedroom to get dressed. He wanted to have a conversation in person today. Micah would have been ideal, but Jamie would do.
Dune felt restless enough that he put his car keys away and walked to Bernal Heights, where Ben and Jamie lived in the same building as his father. There were times when Dune prided himself on bringing the two of them together: they'd met without him, but never would have run into each other again if he hadn't decided Ben was perfect for Jamie and vice-versa.
Then there were times when he thought he'd only been a convenient facilitator for fate, and the two of them would have found each other no matter what or who interfered.
No matter, he supposed. He believed love wanted to be found -- but he also wondered why it was also so good at hiding.
He took the creaky elevator up to Jamie and Ben's floor and rapped on their door. Jamie was always in the middle of some project, no matter what time the day or night, so it took a few minutes for him to answer. He threw his arms around Dune once the door was open. "Hi! Come on in, I'm making lunch for when Benjie gets home from church."
"Hi," said Dune and hung onto the smaller man as Jamie pulled him into the apartment. Jamie found nothing unusual in this: they were always clinging to each other. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I didn't particularly want to call."
"You're always welcome, you know," Jamie said comfortingly and kissed his cheek. "You look tired. Here, sit." He led Dune to the kitchen