Trifecta: Pride Week, part two
I like the person who was working my days off as a person, but not as a worker. The customers didn't either (enthusiastic but ignorant) and neither do my other coworkers, who had to take up the slack. So I'm not going to use her again. I was going to put my foot down about her being scheduled in my department (I write the schedule, the store's Assistant Manager put in who my back up is), but I guess he's heard the gossip because he just gave me who I wanted.
Title: Trifecta
Chapter: Pride Week, part two
Status: WIP
Genre: Romance, Triple Slash, businessmen, jobs, friends, working
Length: 1.4 k
Summary: Damien had a need, a stranger helps.
Masterlist
Damien took another sip of water. The sun was bright and heat radiated off the street and sidewalks and buildings and all the happy people around him. He needed the water, but he body couldn’t hold another drop.
He was going to have to brave the port-a-potties. And the block long line.
Damien touched Kenneth’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He nodded toward the toilets. Kenneth blew him a kiss and turned back to Ty and several other men dancing in place with enough jumps to lift his kilt, but never enough to reveal what was or wasn’t underneath. Ty had practiced for him several times, once to show off the difference the kilt’s fabric made. But the practice was different from the real thing. Damien wanted to stay. He shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle of water. Or he should have gotten in line earlier.
People waited beyond the corner. This couldn’t all be the lines for the toilets?
It was.
How was he going to make it?
The line would move quickly. There were eight toilets. But three looked to have out-of-order signs on them. Five bathrooms and a hundred people. Now if everyone just needed to relieve themselves then maybe he’d get a change before he gave up and found a quiet alley somewhere.
“The line is shorter at the park.”
Damien turned.
A guy a little older than him was juggling a sunscreen bottle between his hands. He was shirtless, like much of the crowd, but he was covered in tattoos. Most were dragons. All were bright with clean lines.
He didn’t look dangerous even in leather jeans that laced up the sides. Tattoos peeked through the gaps.
“It’s a few blocks that way.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “And I guarantee you’ll get in quicker.”
If he didn’t, he could always pee on a tree.
The guy put out his hand. “Peregrine Jones, artist.”
“Damien Parzen, actor.” That still felt funny to say. Barista was more natural even after he’d quit that job. “Which way did you say?”
“To the Park Blocks.” He ran his right hand through his buzzed off hair. He didn’t have any tattoos on his neck or face. Just the dragon whose nose rested on his collar bone.
They were still in public, so he couldn’t be planning anything funny.
He pointed out landmarks and fidgeted with the bottle, his hair, the hoops in his earrings and even his phone, which somehow fit in an invisible pocket of his skin-tight jeans. He didn’t text or talk though. He just put the phone away.
“Sorry. I’ve got the urge to sketch and my pencils and notebook are back with my friends.”
“What do you sketch?”
“People. Things. Scenes.” Peregrine smiled. “Anything.”
Damien? He’s love to see a sketch of himself. But was Peregrine trying to pick him up? Show off his etching kind of thing? He hadn’t actually offered to show Damien anything. Or have him sit for him or whatever getting one’s picture done was called.
Across the street was a park with a playground and at the corner…
A woman opened the door the large sidewalk stall and herded three children out.
Peregrine grinned. “No lines.”
Good. The conversation was only kind of taking his mind off his all consuming need.
Relief.
Peregrine was waiting outside.
“Your turn.”
“No.” Peregrine stood up from the street sign he was leaning against. “Sanitizer and water around the back. No. I live just up a bit.”
Powell’s was that way, wasn’t it? “You live in the Pearl?”
“All great artists did when I was starting out. But then it gentrified. I finally make enough to afford it.”
He looked up the street with a grin. The Pearl gentrified years ago. “You must be older than you look.”
“I’m told that all the time. Early thirties, which is why I didn’t just let you use my bathroom. And how old are you?”
Damien looked at his feet. “Eighteen.”
“Factually or Ideally?”
Damien glanced over. Peregrine was watching kids in the playground. Adults lay on blankets in the grass. Under the trees was cool and breezy.
“I saw you with the two men. I’ve got nothing against that. I’ve got two men of my own.”
Damien steeled himself. “But…”
“But if that eighteen is really seventeen and a half, you could do the men you love a world of harm by sleeping with them. I know it’s hard. It’s harder not to do what’s natural for people in love when you live together, even if you have your own room.”
So true. Damien hadn’t slept in his room since the night before his birthday.
His phone went off. Ty. Where are you?
Damien looked around for the street sign. Peregrine pointed it out. Damien sent the street names. “I guess I better get back.”
Peregrine ran his hand through his hair. “I really am looking out for you. I volunteer at the youth shelter by the freeway.” He pointed farther into town. “You know the one?”
Damien had almost been that desperate a time or two. Or several.
“We could set you up with a family for a few weeks or months…”
And give a boy the freedom to decide if living with the older man, or men, was what he really wanted.
“Thanks, but I really am eighteen.” Damien pulled out his wallet and showed off his driver’s license. Peregrine pulled the ID out and gave it a good rub, like Damien had been told to do as a bartender, looking for tampering.
“Good.” He handed it back. “But if you ever need anything-”
“Excuse me.” Ty loomed out of nowhere. “Who do you think you are?”
“Peregrine Jones.” Peregrine held out his hand like Ty’s anger wasn’t threatening. “I try to keep my eyes open for youth in need.”
“And you think Damien needs you?”
Ty was really handsome when he was angry. But Peregrine hadn’t done anything. “He was making sure I wasn’t being taken advantage of.”
“What right-”
“The right of every adult everywhere. The responsibility.” Peregrine managed to look down his nose at Ty, who was quite a bit taller. “We can’t turn our backs. Someone else will help them. Someone else will do something. You are someone else. So am I.”
“But…”
“Thank you, Mr. Jones, for your concern.” Damien held out his hand. “The next young person might not be as lucky as I am.”
Peregrine shook Damien’s hand and walked back toward the celebration.
Ty let out a huge sigh. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
Damien took his arm. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Even if it wasn’t needed or wanted?”
“You are always wanted.” Damien stood on his tiptoes and pulled Ty close. If men couldn’t kiss in public during Pride, when could they?
Ty’s kiss was fantastic as always. He kept his arm around Damien all the way back to the festivities. “Why do you think he picked you?”
“I’m young. You and Kenneth are obviously adults. I’m probably not the only one he took aside today and made sure I was where I wanted to be. And I do want to be with you.”
Ty squeezed him. Then he sighed. “I must look like a dirty old man to a kid like him.”
“Not old. He’s as old as you are.”
“What?”
Peregrine had his sketch book and was ignoring the juggler who made jokes while ogling the pale giant at Peregrine’s side. A darker man with his long hair up in a ponytail was sleeking the giant’s spectacular muscles with the bottle of sunscreen Peregrine had been carrying.
Several people stopped to watch.
The giant was magnificent. From a distance. He towered over Peregrine. Damien would look like a baby beside him. The giant said something and Peregrine lifted his face for a kiss. The darker man added his and then covered all those tattoos with sunscreen.
“It’s all right to look.” Kenneth touched Damien’s elbow.
“But three in our bed is enough.” Ty nodded.
Damien held out his hands for theirs. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Do we still have free tickets to tonight’s show?”
Kenneth checked his pocket. “Four.”
“I need three.” Just in case Peregrine was willing to share a copy of whatever he was sketching.
Title: Trifecta
Chapter: Pride Week, part two
Status: WIP
Genre: Romance, Triple Slash, businessmen, jobs, friends, working
Length: 1.4 k
Summary: Damien had a need, a stranger helps.
Masterlist
Damien took another sip of water. The sun was bright and heat radiated off the street and sidewalks and buildings and all the happy people around him. He needed the water, but he body couldn’t hold another drop.
He was going to have to brave the port-a-potties. And the block long line.
Damien touched Kenneth’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He nodded toward the toilets. Kenneth blew him a kiss and turned back to Ty and several other men dancing in place with enough jumps to lift his kilt, but never enough to reveal what was or wasn’t underneath. Ty had practiced for him several times, once to show off the difference the kilt’s fabric made. But the practice was different from the real thing. Damien wanted to stay. He shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle of water. Or he should have gotten in line earlier.
People waited beyond the corner. This couldn’t all be the lines for the toilets?
It was.
How was he going to make it?
The line would move quickly. There were eight toilets. But three looked to have out-of-order signs on them. Five bathrooms and a hundred people. Now if everyone just needed to relieve themselves then maybe he’d get a change before he gave up and found a quiet alley somewhere.
“The line is shorter at the park.”
Damien turned.
A guy a little older than him was juggling a sunscreen bottle between his hands. He was shirtless, like much of the crowd, but he was covered in tattoos. Most were dragons. All were bright with clean lines.
He didn’t look dangerous even in leather jeans that laced up the sides. Tattoos peeked through the gaps.
“It’s a few blocks that way.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “And I guarantee you’ll get in quicker.”
If he didn’t, he could always pee on a tree.
The guy put out his hand. “Peregrine Jones, artist.”
“Damien Parzen, actor.” That still felt funny to say. Barista was more natural even after he’d quit that job. “Which way did you say?”
“To the Park Blocks.” He ran his right hand through his buzzed off hair. He didn’t have any tattoos on his neck or face. Just the dragon whose nose rested on his collar bone.
They were still in public, so he couldn’t be planning anything funny.
He pointed out landmarks and fidgeted with the bottle, his hair, the hoops in his earrings and even his phone, which somehow fit in an invisible pocket of his skin-tight jeans. He didn’t text or talk though. He just put the phone away.
“Sorry. I’ve got the urge to sketch and my pencils and notebook are back with my friends.”
“What do you sketch?”
“People. Things. Scenes.” Peregrine smiled. “Anything.”
Damien? He’s love to see a sketch of himself. But was Peregrine trying to pick him up? Show off his etching kind of thing? He hadn’t actually offered to show Damien anything. Or have him sit for him or whatever getting one’s picture done was called.
Across the street was a park with a playground and at the corner…
A woman opened the door the large sidewalk stall and herded three children out.
Peregrine grinned. “No lines.”
Good. The conversation was only kind of taking his mind off his all consuming need.
Relief.
Peregrine was waiting outside.
“Your turn.”
“No.” Peregrine stood up from the street sign he was leaning against. “Sanitizer and water around the back. No. I live just up a bit.”
Powell’s was that way, wasn’t it? “You live in the Pearl?”
“All great artists did when I was starting out. But then it gentrified. I finally make enough to afford it.”
He looked up the street with a grin. The Pearl gentrified years ago. “You must be older than you look.”
“I’m told that all the time. Early thirties, which is why I didn’t just let you use my bathroom. And how old are you?”
Damien looked at his feet. “Eighteen.”
“Factually or Ideally?”
Damien glanced over. Peregrine was watching kids in the playground. Adults lay on blankets in the grass. Under the trees was cool and breezy.
“I saw you with the two men. I’ve got nothing against that. I’ve got two men of my own.”
Damien steeled himself. “But…”
“But if that eighteen is really seventeen and a half, you could do the men you love a world of harm by sleeping with them. I know it’s hard. It’s harder not to do what’s natural for people in love when you live together, even if you have your own room.”
So true. Damien hadn’t slept in his room since the night before his birthday.
His phone went off. Ty. Where are you?
Damien looked around for the street sign. Peregrine pointed it out. Damien sent the street names. “I guess I better get back.”
Peregrine ran his hand through his hair. “I really am looking out for you. I volunteer at the youth shelter by the freeway.” He pointed farther into town. “You know the one?”
Damien had almost been that desperate a time or two. Or several.
“We could set you up with a family for a few weeks or months…”
And give a boy the freedom to decide if living with the older man, or men, was what he really wanted.
“Thanks, but I really am eighteen.” Damien pulled out his wallet and showed off his driver’s license. Peregrine pulled the ID out and gave it a good rub, like Damien had been told to do as a bartender, looking for tampering.
“Good.” He handed it back. “But if you ever need anything-”
“Excuse me.” Ty loomed out of nowhere. “Who do you think you are?”
“Peregrine Jones.” Peregrine held out his hand like Ty’s anger wasn’t threatening. “I try to keep my eyes open for youth in need.”
“And you think Damien needs you?”
Ty was really handsome when he was angry. But Peregrine hadn’t done anything. “He was making sure I wasn’t being taken advantage of.”
“What right-”
“The right of every adult everywhere. The responsibility.” Peregrine managed to look down his nose at Ty, who was quite a bit taller. “We can’t turn our backs. Someone else will help them. Someone else will do something. You are someone else. So am I.”
“But…”
“Thank you, Mr. Jones, for your concern.” Damien held out his hand. “The next young person might not be as lucky as I am.”
Peregrine shook Damien’s hand and walked back toward the celebration.
Ty let out a huge sigh. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
Damien took his arm. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Even if it wasn’t needed or wanted?”
“You are always wanted.” Damien stood on his tiptoes and pulled Ty close. If men couldn’t kiss in public during Pride, when could they?
Ty’s kiss was fantastic as always. He kept his arm around Damien all the way back to the festivities. “Why do you think he picked you?”
“I’m young. You and Kenneth are obviously adults. I’m probably not the only one he took aside today and made sure I was where I wanted to be. And I do want to be with you.”
Ty squeezed him. Then he sighed. “I must look like a dirty old man to a kid like him.”
“Not old. He’s as old as you are.”
“What?”
Peregrine had his sketch book and was ignoring the juggler who made jokes while ogling the pale giant at Peregrine’s side. A darker man with his long hair up in a ponytail was sleeking the giant’s spectacular muscles with the bottle of sunscreen Peregrine had been carrying.
Several people stopped to watch.
The giant was magnificent. From a distance. He towered over Peregrine. Damien would look like a baby beside him. The giant said something and Peregrine lifted his face for a kiss. The darker man added his and then covered all those tattoos with sunscreen.
“It’s all right to look.” Kenneth touched Damien’s elbow.
“But three in our bed is enough.” Ty nodded.
Damien held out his hands for theirs. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Do we still have free tickets to tonight’s show?”
Kenneth checked his pocket. “Four.”
“I need three.” Just in case Peregrine was willing to share a copy of whatever he was sketching.