Almost done. Almost done waiting, and Viggo's breath caught. It was so easy to talk about loving Sean and accepting him and wanting him to be happy, because it was all true- but there was always the looming possibility that there would be nothing after this. That even though Viggo had finally got his legs working to chase, he would just be chasing dust and light, both of which fading away with the next corner. It was almost a comforting thought, because it was terrifying to think about what would happen next.

And wasn't that what Exene had always told him was his greatest flaw? Viggo wasn't afraid to take risks, wasn't afraid to say what he meant- as long as it was about abstractions, about concepts. Loving his son was easy, expressing it was easy, but Henry wanted to go to New York for university and Viggo had let him without a word even though he would miss him. Expressing what he wanted, what he truly wished from people- was always ridiculously difficult. Viggo spoke in riddles and circles that he himself did not and could not understand, and, if he was perfectly honest with himself, it annoyed him too.

But this was Sean, and Viggo had always taken the first step, the first chance. And Sean was reaching back to him, his hand opened; Viggo would be a fool to not take it. There was an advantage to knowing and being in love with someone for over ten years - he knew that Sean would get angry, and start spluttering at him if he didn't reach out his hand; at the same time, he knew that it would never be offered again if retracted.

Slowly, Viggo closed his hand around Sean's fingers, and his smile was almost shy. His other hand fumbled for the glass, and he knocked back the two shots in a single second, leaving his throat burning. He didn't cough.

"My hotel room is just upstairs," he said, and immediately hesitated. A moment passed, and he pressed on-

"Would you like to come up instead?"