“Well,” Gideon looked down at the glass of water, and Cole thought, here we go, this conversation is going to be like pulling teeth, but then Gideon squared his shoulders. “Because my brother’s men are coming to escort us to the courthouse. And it’s not fair for you to die because my brother is pissed at me.”

“No, I just have to marry you instead.” The memory of the gun going off echoed in Cole's ear and he shivvered. He rolled onto his side so he could focus on Gideon’s face. The initial hesitation to confront Cole about this had dissapeared from his features. He shuttered back up to the blank, slightly intimidating, neutral expression that he apparently wore on the regular. “What the hell did you do to him to piss him off so bad?”

“No idea.” Gideon shrugged. “He just likes to fuck with people.”

The Barta family drama was as terrifying as Cole had imagined it might be. It was a difficult pill to swallow that his entire life was being turned upside down over nothing. However, if it was about something specific, and Gideon did not want him to know, then Cole was fine with not getting any more involved than he already was. He did not push for any more details about the situation between the brothers.

“Did we…uh…” Cole grimaced and smoothed a hand over the disarray of sheets and blankets. “Did we do anything last night?”

Gideon looked at him like he had grown another head. “Besides getting married?”

“Well, like the other stuff that goes along with marriage.”

Cole felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. He was pretty certain Gideon would not have done anything while he was blackout drunk, but he was not one hundred percent sure. And while his mouth tasted pretty awful because he had not brushed his teeth, the rest of him was squeaky clean. He had a shower  between last night and this morning and was now in clothes that were not his own, which meant at some point, someone had helped him clean off, and at some point, he had been naked. He hugged his stomach.

“Cole, are you trying to ask if we had sex?” Gideon’s voice was incredulous. “Just come out and ask it. Why are you even shy about this? You are literally a sex worker.“

“Okay!” Cole said a little loudly over Gideon. All that meant was that sex remained in a very structured, carefully cordoned-off section of his brain, clinical, simple, and just a part of the job. But sex with Gideon made him feel flustered. The mere fact that he enjoyed it. Not knowing why he enjoyed it. Being unwilling to allow himself to enjoy it. Lying in bed on the nights after they had been together and feeling like he should not touch himself while pretend it was Gideon’s hands. Then feeling spend cooling on his chest as he raced to catch his breath, mocking him as the guilt settled in. “Yes. I’m asking if we had sex, asshole.”

“No,” Gideon spit, properly offended, lips turned down and brows furrowed. “Jesus, Cole. I would not do that.”

Cole sat up and palmed his forehead, begging any higher power that was listening to make the pain meds kick in faster. “No?”

“No, what the fuck.”

Gideon leaped off the bed and paced around, so agitated that the energy needed an outlet. He ran a hand over his head, his soft hair springing back after his palm passed over it, his bicep bunching and releasing as he dropped the hand to his mouth. His distress ran hot it seemed, outbursts and pacing, as opposed to Logan's cold fury - a snake curled up so tight in the grass that if he didn’t tiptoe, he might step on it and have a pair of fangs sticking in him before he even realized there was danger. Cole blinked at Gideon’s bare feet as they paced over the hardwood and thought it was weird that he knew what Gideon Barta’s toes looked like. What his anger looked like.

“Don’t get fucking offended,” Cole snapped back, remaining on the bed because he did not have the extra energy to get agitated. “I just don’t know you.”

Gideon sat back down with a sigh. “Look, I know this is a fucked up situation, but I just want to say that I’m on your side here. We’re in this together, really.”

He scratched the stubble on his cheek. Cole once again noticed the scarring on his knuckles and realized they were probably not from something as innocent as boxing in his spare time. “I’m not a good guy, but I don’t want to hurt you. Can you believe that?”

Cole narrowed his eyes.

Gideon sighed. “We just have to play along until James gets bored – and he will – then we can get an annulment. I’m trying to get ahold of my mom, but she’s out of the country right now, so she’s not much help.”

Cole thought that over. If all he had to do was stay married to Gideon for a little while until James would not care about them getting a divorce, then this ended up not being a bad deal for him. His debt would be paid off, and he could start with a clean slate. Maybe move to another city or go to school or something. But if he was thinking about silver linings, Gideon might be, too, and the only thing he could really get out of this would be sex. 

Which might not be such a bad thing, but it also might make things complicated. Cole knew that sex outside of transactions tended to get complicated. Hell, it tended to get complicated within transactions. He already did not understand how he felt about sex with Gideon before all this, so he could not fathom how he would unpack it now. 

“Play along as in…just in public, or…?” he asks.

Gideon’s eyes swept from the pink staining Cole’s cheeks to the way his fingers tangled together in his lap, and then he cracked another incredulous grin. “For a hooker, you sure are shy about bringing up sex.”

Blushing simply because he had already blushed was a mortifying experience, the blood rushing doubly to Cole’s face. He huffed and looked away.

“Alright, look.” Gideon returned to being serious. “The night when I took you to the hotel room and I asked if I could tie you up, you said no, right? And then what happened? I did not tie you up. Same thing with when you said I could not hit you, although I would not have anyway.” He placed his hands together between his legs and looked down at them, lips pressed together.  “Cole, I need you to understand that if you tell me you don’t want something – sexual or not – then I will respect that.”

Cole was not just going to be able to flip a switch like that, although with Gideon, he kind of already had - feeling safe during those two tricks. But this was a different situation. He did not even know where he was.

“I don’t even know where I am right now.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Let alone who I can trust.”

Gideon grimaced, easily reading between the lines and hearing how hypocritical his words rang because he might be able to say Cole did not have to do anything he did not want, but in a couple of hours, they would be standing together at the courthouse regardless. “You’re in one of the guest bedrooms in my house. And by playing along, I just mean going to the courthouse today. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“Right.”

Neither had much more to say about that for the moment.

“Do you want some breakfast before they come to pick us up?”

“Sure,” Cole shrugged.

Outside of the stark guest bedroom, the level of opulence oozing from the house was more in line with Cole's expectations of a Barta residence. Instead of family pictures on the walls, there were genuine museum pieces. Some even had little brass plaques on the frames or the walls beside them, proclaiming their artists and dates. They descended a wide set of steps into a foyer, where marble sculptures and little collections of books between heavy brass bookends were displayed on top of carved wooden side tables. Beside them were arching couches, which sat beneath oil paintings of landscapes and classical architecture. This was a house that had a staff to dust such things. Cole imagined there would be a maid down in the kitchen ready to whip up their breakfast.

There was no maid. There was only Gideon rifling through a cabinet and asking what type of cereal Cole preferred. His selections were depressing. All bran flake and healthy. Why on earth someone with as much money as Gideon would limit themselves to such boring cereal was beyond comprehension. Cole pouted at the countertop and asked for the granola since that at least had maple syrup in it. Gideon sloshed some milk into the bowl, tossed in a spoon, and slid it across the marble.

“Thanks.” Cole stuffed a spoonful into his mouth and decided it was not so bad. Better than bland oatmeal. Then, because he simply could not shake the topic from the back of his thoughts, he asked, “Did you give me a shower last night?”

“Yes.” Gideon pulled a paper bag of whole coffee beans and a little hand grinder from a cabinet. “You were a mess.”

Cole could only imagine. He focused on stuffing his face with cereal so that he would not bring up any more uncomfortable topics of conversation. Gideon puttered around, tamping the grounds into an expresso machine and fiddling around with it to froth milk or whatever the hell he was doing. The rich, robust aroma of coffee filled the space between them. It was an easy atmosphere to relax in, especially since Cole’s headache had reduced to a manageable level. He ate another spoonful of cereal and remembered to be grateful that he did not get nauseous with hangovers.

“You seemed to like it, though.” Gideon pulled two wide, white mugs down from another cabinet. “When I washed you.”

Milk and half-chewed cereal spewed out of Cole’s mouth and across the shining marble countertop. He choked and started coughing, mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Gideon stared at him, the mugs suspended halfway to the counter.

“Oh my god.” Cole held a hand over his mouth as he searched around for paper towels. A roll sat by the sink. He clambered off the stool and stumbled for it, contemplating rolling himself up like a mummy and playing dead. Instead, he tore off a few sheets. Sweat beaded along the back of his neck he was blushing so hard. “Why the fuck would you say that while I’m eating?”

“Why the fuck are you so shy?” Gideon countered, setting down the mugs.

Cole did not know how to explain to this guy that baring his naked body for crowds and letting men do what they wanted with it in private did not mean that he, the person stuck inside that body, was anything like the fantasies that people projected onto him. Nikki was simply an alter ego. And Cole, the boy beneath, knew nothing of the intimacies of being washed by another human being.