Little Things Ch. 01 of 04

I glance in his direction again. This time he catches it, looks at me with that goofy grin on his face. I can't help a little laugh, lips curling up brightly. But still that tiny, nervous uncertainty, hiding deep in my heart. I wish I knew for sure. If it weren't for the time we've spent apart, I'd probably just ask him, flat out. But it's been too many months, too many years -- I don't have the stomach for that. With a shake of the head, I turn back to the professor, right now droning on about logging regulations in Chile. Get through the class, get through the day. Try not to worry so much.

I manage at least part of that. After a quick and largely mediocre lunch at the mess hall, we polish off the rest of the day's classes, and I give David a guided tour of the campus' football field, based on what little I know about it. He's suitably impressed. It's pretty far from state-of-the-art, but I guess it's a fair sight better than the one back home.

Getting late now, and we're heading back to my apartment when I realize there's one more thing he might like to see. Besides, it's on the way, more or less. After a bit of a jaunt through the winding halls of the engineering building, I lead him up a particular back staircase, speaking a silent prayer to the patron saint of poor maintenance.

We're in luck -- the lock's still broken. I push open the heavy metal door and step out onto the roof, David following close behind. It's covered in a thin layer of gravel, still slightly damp here and there from last night's snowfall, and the wind these four stories up is strong and freezing. But it makes for a marvelous view of the campus, and of some of the landscape beyond. Grey clouds fill the darkening sky, and small figures wander the concrete walks, small groups and couples hand in hand, a few loners treading in the solitary chill. "Here we are," I announce unnecessarily.

"Wow," David whistles softly, looking out over the area. "Nice view. Cold, but nice."

"It is," I nod, and then caution him as he draws up to the slight ridge before the building's edge. "Careful, there."

"Come on," he smiles, "I'm not that clumsy."

"What, you think I'm worried about you?" I laugh teasingly. "I just don't want anyone to see you. Technically, we're not allowed to be up here." But I step up beside him anyway, a faintly excited tension in the pit of my stomach as animal instincts take note of the distance to the ground. "I come up here sometimes to think, or just to get away from everyone. My ex-boyfriend showed it to me, like a year and a half ago."

"Ex?" His eyebrow slightly raised.

"Yeah," I smirk with self-consciousness, and deflect the question. "It means 'former.' 'Previous.'"

"Of course!" He laughs briefly. "I've always wondered." Softer. "What happened?"

"With that one?" I hesitate a moment, then shrug. No harm telling, not really. "He cheated on me. Some girl at a party. I actually kind of owe April there; I wouldn't have found out, if she hadn't convinced me at the last minute to go."

David winces, his expression falling into sympathetic sorrow. "That's terrible."

I just shrug again. I'm past it; he didn't mean much anyway. And what more could I really expect? "It happens."

His lips twitch half up, sourly. "Well, it shouldn't."

I snort quietly, more dismissive than amused. "Lots of things happen that shouldn't. I'm not special."

"Yeah, you are." Sudden force in his voice, intensity in his eyes as he turns to look at me. "You don't deserve to have someone treat you like that."

For a brief few seconds his gaze holds me prisoner -- then a flush descends on his cheeks and he glances away, freeing me to look out across the campus. Oh my god. My insides twist into knots, aching and uncertain. Is he...? Does that mean...?

I just don't know. I can't be sure. I mean, it could be innocent, just brotherly regard. It could be. But the look in his eyes -- I don't know that I've ever seen that before from him. So serious, so emphatic. Searing from his very soul. Would he really care that much, if it were just concern for his sister?

I don't dare to say anything. He's quiet, too. So for a few minutes, we just stand there silent on the roof, looking out across the twilight-darkened landscape. Pools of light dot the ground beneath streetlamps, little islands in a shadowy sea. And just when I feel as though the quiet has gone on too long to bear, as though I must say something, a gentle drift of snow begins to fall.

A sigh sounds beside me, softly tranquil. I risk a glance -- David's staring up into the sky, watching the legion of snowflakes in their slow, meandering descent. He's first to speak. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His voice sounds...normal. Calm. Am I just being crazy?

I nod, trying to swallow my tension. "Yeah. It's...never quite get used to this."

"Certainly don't." His eyes drop down to me again, and there's a satisfied little smile on his face, one which I struggle to return. "Maybe we should head back. I reckon it's going to get a lot colder pretty quick."

Yeah. Probably. I force my legs to move and pull open the heavy door again, descending into the long, concrete stairwell. Thumping rapidly down the steps, trying to get away -- not from David, not really, but from this scene, from this moment. I don't want this kind of complication. I just want everything to be simple, easy. To have my brother be-

"Fuck!" I curse instinctively, almost tumbling to the ground as pain suddenly explodes in my foot, shoots up my leg. I landed wrong - taking the stairs down two at a time has come back to bite me. "Shit, that's...aaah, god dammit." I'm hopping around, trying to grab for the railing while my body screams at me.

"What's wrong?" David speaks somewhere above me, still trying to catch up.

"I broke my damn foot, that's what's wrong." A grimace twists my face, and red-hot pain pulses angrily at me as I gingerly try to set foot on the ground again. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Really?" There's a touch of amused schadenfreude in his voice, mixed with a more charitable concern, as he appears at the landing above mine. "Sit down, let me take a look. How the heck did you manage that, anyway?"

"Laugh it up," I mutter darkly -- but I sit on the stairs, resting my injured foot atop my knee. David slips past me and crouches down to help remove my sneaker, an agonized twinge shooting through my nerves as he tugs gently at the heel. "Careful. Christ."

He just shakes his head and snickers slightly, pulling my shoe the rest of the way off, and then peeling down the thick cotton sock. The ankle is an angry red, visibly flashing with my heartbeat. "Looks like a pretty nasty wrench." He reaches out, and I wince as his fingertips lightly rub at the joint -- but it doesn't hurt, not really. Actually, it feels a little better. "I don't think it's anything worse, though."

"Yeah, well. Easy for you to say," I grumble. There's a certain comfort in complaining. David gives me a knowing smirk, but doesn't call me on it. Instead, bringing up his other hand, he starts to gently massage at my foot. Slowly sweeping his thumbs with a soft pressure along the upper surface, his fingertips stroke outwards upon the bottom arch, ever-so-faintly tickling at my sole. The foot itself cupped in his hands, squeezed tenderly in his grasp. It's nice -- soothing, the hurt retreating before his advancing fingers. I settle back a bit to let him work.

As his thumbs reach up past the ankle itself, his hands slip forward, palms catching on either side. With a carefully restrained force, he presses inward, rolling the aching joint in his slowly rotating hands. I manage a little sigh as the pain turns gradually into a soft tingle. God, this is nice -- I could go for this even if I hadn't sprained my ankle first. His fingers slip aimlessly at the back of my heel, tiny caresses at my Achilles tendon; his touch is warm on my skin, fairly glowing. Glancing down, I can see on his face an expression of raptly satisfied concentration.

Oh, hell. My heartbeat abruptly jumps up three notches. The sudden injury had kicked me out of my train of thought - made me forget, temporarily, the day's background worry. Now it's called back to mind, as I realize just how intimate a moment this feels. I mean...fuck, I don't know. A foot massage. It could be innocent, sure. But right now, the look on his face...it doesn't really feel that way.

I can't just keep going like this, wondering. I have to say something. "So, um." God, I hate the little quaver I hear in my voice. "April said something to me this morning."

"Yeah?" His expression is more normal as he looks up at me. Small, bright smile, his eyes open and friendly. "What's that?"

I have to swallow once before answering. "Ah, she said she thinks..." Damn it, damn it, damn it. Just say it. "She thinks you might be attracted to me."

He's already in the middle of a 'listening' kind of nod -- for a moment he just keeps up the massage, not seeming to have quite processed what I said. Then, all at once, his hands jerk away from me, his eyes shooting wide. "What?!" Shock in his voice. Another short silence, struggling for words. "Why would -- she knows you're my sister, right?"

"Oh, she knows," I utter, faintly rueful.

"Then why the hell would she say something like that?" There's a touch of anger in his tone now, something I almost never hear from David. "Why would she think that?"

"I don't know," I answer cautiously, and wonder why I'm lying. I know why she thinks that, I know her evidence. But...I'm not trying to force a confession out of him. Maybe I don't even want the truth, necessarily. I just want to ask him, to accept whatever answer he chooses to give me. "Can you think of a reason why?"

He runs anxious fingers backwards through his scalp. Thinking, for a few moments. "No," he finally answers, in a tone of baffled frustration. "I have no idea. I didn't...I mean, what could even make her think that? I barely even talked to her." Silence, again. Then his eyes are worried on mine, his tone apprehensive. "You don't believe her, do you?"

"I didn't really believe her, no," I answer quietly. He looks relieved -- mostly, anyway. There's a faint and distant flicker in his eye that I wouldn't dare to interpret. "But you know, I was thinking about it today. And if it were true...you could tell me. I wouldn't be grossed out, or angry at you or anything."

It takes him a moment to respond. His voice quiet, his expression burgeoning with a disbelieving glimmer of hope. "You wouldn't?"

Oh my god, it is true. There's no mistaking the meaning of his question -- I can feel my heart thumping nervously in my chest, fast and deep. I shake my head, and it's a struggle to keep my voice even slightly casual. "No. I mean, it'd be kind of flattering, you know?" My hands feel empty, awkward at my sides; I grip lightly at the step beneath me. "You've seen me at my worst. When I'm throwing up, when I'm bawling my eyes out, when I'm stuffing my face with fudge. If you were attracted to me after all that...it would be a pretty big compliment."

"But you're my sister." His voice is like that of a ghost. Or of someone not quite sure if they're dreaming.

"Yeah." I laugh, a bit nervously. "So obviously, we couldn't...do anything. A feeling like that couldn't go anywhere, really. But just having it -- there's nothing wrong with that." I force myself to look him seriously in the eye. This is important, this is what it's all about. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me, David. We...it's really important to me that we can trust each other. With everything." And I give him a tiny, half-hearted smile.

God, I can't believe my own brother has a crush on me. It's crazy. But what I said is true; I can't be mad at him. And despite what I would expect, I don't really feel creeped out, either. Not exactly. It's almost sweet, in a way. We have so much history. We've been so much to each other. So what if he feels a little infatuated?

I mean, yeah, it's kinda weird. It'd make more sense at twelve than at eighteen. But he's still the same brother I know and love - I'm not going to freak out at him about it. Whatever he feels, I'm not going to let it ruin what we have.

He looks up now, his cheeks burning red, his lips parting for confession. But they fall silently closed again as our eyes meet. There's no need to speak, not really. Our connection is sometimes deeper than words; I know the truth already, and he knows that I know. That's enough. Things aren't exactly all worked out, but at least now this is out in the open. It helps. A little.

Anyway, my foot is feeling much better. I don again my shoe and sock, and we walk back to my apartment in silence, feeling the awkwardness of a revealed truth. The distraction of dinner is welcome. Marie's made vegetable lasagna, and she's as skilled a cook as she is a scholar; I eat more than my fill, glad to focus on something other than the situation with David.

Not that I can really get it out of my mind. I can feel his eyes on me all through the meal; seems like every time I glance in his direction, I find him already looking at me. I mean, it's nothing lascivious, not like he's ogling me or anything, just...looking. I wouldn't think anything of it, normally. But things aren't normal, not anymore. Knowing what I know, his gaze makes me feel...

Fucking hell, I think I'm blushing. I can't even say how I feel. It's like a trembling in my heart, a tingle in the back of my mind. Nerves. Yeah, at least in part. I'm still nervous. Should I act differently around him now? Is there something I should do, to help him grow out of it?

Is that even what's going to happen? I mean, he's not a kid anymore. I'm too aware of that, looking at his strong cheekbones, his chiseled features. The only softness in that face is in his eyes, blue like a cloudless sky, and in the smile that barely touches upon his lips. It doesn't seem the look of a boy -- a man -- who's going to grow up, move on, forget.

I don't know. For the remainder of the meal I stay quiet, gaze buried in my food. I'm sure David notices, but April and Marie don't seem to, chattering on as energetically as always. As we're finishing up, April stretches, and speaks with an easy satisfaction. "Not bad, Mare. Food like that, I can almost see how you could stand to go veg."

"Mm." Marie smoothly acknowledges. "Honestly, April, you ought to give it a try. It isn't nearly so difficult as you seem to think. After the first month or two, you quite lose your taste for flesh."

"So you say," April laughs. "But I know if I didn't get some meat in me every so often, I'd go crazy." A smirk curves her lips as she turns her attention to David. "Speaking of which...I haven't got any other plans tonight. You up for a repeat performance?"

Catching him in the middle of scarfing down a chunk of pasta, the question sends David into a lengthy coughing fit. It's some moments before he regathers enough composure to attempt an answer, his cheeks burning pink. "That's, ah. Thanks, but I think I'm gonna pass. I'm not really, um...no." And I see him glance to me again, his eyes unspeakably embarrassed.

April catches it as well, her brow lifting with amused curiosity. "No? Spending some 'quality time' with Samantha instead?" And her mouth splits in a Cheshire grin.

"Oh, grow the fuck up, April," I suddenly snarl at her, my anxiety leaping readily into fury. God damn her. What is she even trying to do, except taunt him?

Of course, she just smirks derisively, not even giving me the satisfaction of a good argument. Marie, meanwhile, raises a surprised eyebrow at my outburst, speaking with a tone politely shocked. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing worth hearing," I growl back, still glaring at April. I'm not done with her yet. "I'm serious. Leave him alone."

"Sure." She rolls her eyes, and smiles with thin-lipped insincerity. "But you know, Sam, you'd probably be less tense if you let him have some fun with you."

"There is something wrong with you." My hands ball into trembling fists as I hiss at her. How can she possibly act like this, think like this? I've never known anyone so god damned dissolute. It's maddening.

"Look," Marie interjects softly, forced to play peacemaker yet again. "Perhaps it would be best if we all took a few moments aside to calm down. April, didn't you say that you wanted me to take a look at your economics paper? This seems as good a time as any."

April's eyes are still on me as she snorts, quiet and contemptuous. But her lips twitch affirmatively. "Fine." And she affects a casual mien as Marie rapidly leads her down the hall and into her room.

The room suddenly quiet, I exhale slowly, left to grapple with a discomforting emptiness as the anger drains out of me. My eye touches on David, his mouth held carefully shut. I have to say something, though I'm not really sure what. "I...I'm sorry about her," I intone quietly. "She's really a jerk."

He demurs, his eyebrow rising faintly with surprise. "I'm okay." A beat passes. "She seems to get pretty badly under your skin, though."

"You could say that." Half a smile struggles onto my face before falling away again. "We've been at each other's throats more and more over the last year. About the only reason we're still roommates is that neither one of us wants to go to the trouble of finding a new place." A little sigh tumbles out of me. "Suppose I shouldn't have blown up at her like that. She just..." I hesitate, not wanting to make too plain a mention of David's secret feelings. "I didn't want..."

A shadow of a smile curves his lips -- wry, with a touch of the forlorn. "I understand." A thoughtful pause. "Kind of comforting to see that you still have the temper I remember, though."

I manage to laugh at that, brief but genuine. "Yeah, well. I try to keep in practice. If you don't get angry about something at least once a week, you start to forget how." A little shake of the head. "Anyway. You want to help me wash the dishes? I don't want Marie to have to cook and clean."

"Of course." He moves immediately to pick up the scattering of plates and utensils, and for a few minutes we settle into the comforting domesticity of doing the dishes. There aren't many; the three of us clean them daily, more or less. I wash, he dries. Just like when we were kids.

And yet different. I'm so aware now of him standing beside me, of his body just a foot or so from mine. Even with my eyes fixed upon the drain, I can feel his presence, a tingling pressure upon my mind. It's an unaccustomed ache - a feeling almost like anticipation, without knowing what's going to happen. Our fingers briefly brush together as I hand him a plate, and I flinch, almost dropping it into the sink. Damn it, this whole situation has me stupidly on edge, acting like a nervous schoolgirl. April, again, putting crazy thoughts in my head.

I move to separate from him when we finish, uncomfortable with the still-too-rapid patter of my heart. "I've got a paper I should really be working on." An excuse -- but its truth makes it a good one. "You going to be okay out here? We've got basic cable on the TV, and I put some blankets next to the sofa for you to use."

"Sure, I'll be fine." I can hear an atom of disappointment, buried beneath his casual cheer. "That's it for tonight, then?"

"Afraid so." I'm not lying to him, not really. I just need a little time to settle my head. "We can head out on the town tomorrow. Not much bigger than Oakley, honestly, but it's something."

"Sounds like it should be fun." A tiny smile quirks his lips upward as he regards me. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Davey." A trace of hesitation in my voice. I don't turn away, not immediately. His eyes hold me again, the way they did on the rooftop. A warm gaze of steely blue, so alike the one I see in the mirror every morning -- and yet possessed of a different soul. When I look at myself, those eyes seem so often to be twisted by fatigue, or by irritation, or by some nameless, existential unrest. On him, they fairly shine with gentleness, sparkling with an honest affection. I could lose myself in those eyes, if I wanted to. Maybe even if I didn't.