Happy Families
Title: Happy Families
Fandom: Queer as Folk RPS
Pairing/Characters: Randy/Gale
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 5,575
Description: In the first year after the show ended they kept in touch, postcards, letters, often meeting, sometimes the whole gang, sometimes just them. Movies, bars, first nights at theatres, the old easiness together always returned by the end of the evening.
Challenge: None
Disclaimer: They don't actually do this, and if they did they probably wouldn't appreciate me writing it all down. And hugs to my fantabulous beta besame_bj for her help.
Happy Families
In the first year after the show ended they kept in touch, postcards, letters, often meeting, sometimes the whole gang, sometimes just them. Movies, bars, first nights at theatres, the old easiness together always returned by the end of the evening.
In the second year, Gale starts dating Sophie. He introduces her to Randy a little nervously, arm tight around her shoulders. She’s nice and Randy talks to her politely about theatre and music but when he gets home that night, and every other night that week, he finds himself lying awake in bed, trying hard not to pinpoint exactly why he hates her.
In the third year Gale and Sophie get married and move in together and that winter baby Lucy is born. Randy means to call and send his congratulations but somehow it … slips his mind.
At the beginning of the fourth year Gale gives up hope of hearing anything from Randy and decides to contact him. Randy comes back to his apartment one afternoon to find the red light of his answering machine flashing.
“Hey, long time, no see. Just calling to ask whether you were ever planning to come see the newest member of the Harold family? I’ve been up to my eyes in diaper shit and baby talk for weeks and I guess I could use a little intelligent company for a change. Um … can you come this Saturday? Sophie’s out at her Mom’s so … call me, let me know when you’ll be getting here.”
It takes Randy a long time to pick up the phone and answer the call.
-----
It’s early evening when he pulls up outside the house, sun just falling from the sky as he rings the bell and runs a nervous hand through his hair. The door opens and yellow light spills onto the steps. Gale stands in the door, in sweats and an old shirt, grinning, a baby’s pacifier gripped in his teeth, every inch the stay-at home dad. Randy’s going to laugh but before he can, Gale's removed the pink plastic and, grinning wider, motioned Randy inside.
A kiss on the doorstep, intimacy that can only come from fake fucking your way through the better part of five years together. And then Gale’s off, down the hallway, throwing questions over his shoulder, How was the drive up there? How had the last play gone? What did he want to drink? And why was he still driving that piece of shit he’d parked outside?
Randy struggles to keep up, weaving his way through cuddly toys and baby clothes to get to the next room. They seem to be standing in a kitchen, there’s a fridge and oven but on the other side is a sofa and TV so maybe it’s the sitting room too.
Photos and stills from the series litter every surface and mismatched junk lies in piles on the floor. Randy thinks of his own stark apartment and, a little unsure in this colorful clutter, he longs for it.
He’s shoved in the direction of sofa while Gale rummages in the fridge and a minute later a familiar brand of beer flies through the air to Randy’s hand. Gale doesn’t know that Randy quit the drink and has been living off water and lattes for the past year. Randy doesn’t correct him, it would feel somehow … affected. Instead he gets rid of the lid and takes a tentative sip and feels as though he’s just gone back in time.
He watches Gale as he navigates himself easily round the messy kitchen, grabbing another beer for himself and shutting the fridge door with his hip as he winches off the beer cap on the edge of the kitchen counter.
He hasn’t changed much in the three years since the show. His hair is a little longer, falling forwards sometimes into his eyes and there are a few more laughter lines edging his face but apart from that he’s much the same. Randy decides fatherhood suits him and, as though reading his mind, Gale turns to face him, grinning and asks,
“So, you wanna meet Lucy?”
He leads Randy over to a pink cradle next to the TV.
“She’s just down here so I could keep an eye on her, most of the time she sleeps upstairs,” he explains leaning down. “Here we go.”
He scoops up a bundle of sleepy four-month-old baby girl and cradles her in his arms. Unfazed, she merely blinks a few times then slumps her head on his chest and falls promptly asleep. Gale turns to Randy beaming that proud-parent smile that clearly hasn’t worn off yet.
“Do you want to hold her?”
“I’ll drop her,” Randy warns.
But Gale just laughs and hands her over. Randy hitches her up awkwardly and hopes that Gale realizes he wasn’t joking. Looking down at her nervously he decides that she doesn’t really look like Gale, except for maybe the wisps of dark hair under her cap. But then to Randy, all babies kind of look the same.
Hoping she’s safely asleep he starts a tentative rocking motion with his arms. The effect is immediate, tiny mouth flies open, impossibly wide, eyes squeezed shut and little hands flailing as she screams at the top of her lungs.
Randy jerks back in shock, holding the screaming bundle away from him as the wail reaches new ear-splitting levels. He turns to Gale helplessly.
“Shit, sorry.”
But Gale just laughs again and takes the wailing baby out of his arms. He coos at her for a bit and lets her calm down. When she’s finally quiet he tucks her in his arm and turns to Randy.
“If you’ll believe it, she used to be worse than this. First few weeks were fucking hell. Let me just go put her to bed then we’ll catch up in peace, okay?”
-----
When Lucy’s settled in her crib, Gale makes his way back downstairs, grabbing a couple of beers and plonking down beside Randy on the sofa with a sigh. Switching on the TV, he channel-hops for a bit until he finds one showing old James Bond movies. But 007’s exploits quickly become background noise as they immerse themselves in reminiscing.
They’re halfway through Goldfinger when they finally run out of things to catch up on and they sit in comfortable silence. Randy’s head is spinning a little, he’s onto his fifth beer and it’s the first alcohol his system’s had to deal with in a long time.
He’s just about to sleepily remark that it would be technically impossible for a man to be sucked out of an airplane window, especially a man that fat, when he feels Gale’s arm slide round behind his shoulders. It’s a familiar position from back when they were working together but things are different now and he looks at Gale in surprise.
Gale just gives him that lopsided smile and says, “I was considering the yawn arm-stretch routine but hey, why be subtle?”
And Randy laughs and lets himself relax.
So that’s how they stay, until the credits roll and the theme music starts to play and Randy yawns and stands up, “Fuck it’s midnight, I’d better be heading back.”
The fact that when he stood up he almost fell straight back down again is not lost on Gale. He snorts and says, “I don’t think you should do any more driving tonight. You can crash in my guest room if you like.”
Randy assesses his own drunkenness and decides that that’s probably a very good idea. He nods dizzily and Gale leads him to the stairs, collecting a bunch of empty bottles and dumping them in the sink on his way.
He’s a little unsteady on his feet too but all the same he manages to get them upstairs to the door that’s next to the bathroom. Flinging it open, he reveals a room filled mostly by a large double bed. There’s about two feet of floor by each wall. Well, Randy presumes it’s floor though he can see no evidence of it.
Like the hallway, it’s covered in a thick layer of books, toys and discarded clothes. The bed is equally littered but Gale scoops up the worst of it and hurriedly shoves it into an already over-spilling closet. As he slams its door shut Randy can hear the dull thud as the contents cascade off their shelves and against the wood. Gale turns to him a little sheepish.
“We don’t get guests that often.”
But Randy just smiles; to his tired eyes the room looks perfect.
He’s aiming to slide through the gap between Gale and the wall in order to get to the right side of the bed but Gale decides to move at the same time and they end up pressed together, awkwardly close. Randy blushes furiously and starts to move away but he’s stopped by the expression on Gale’s face.
Gale doesn’t look embarrassed or uncomfortable with their position. His face is blank and he makes no effort to remove himself but his eyes are fixed on Randy’s mouth, seemingly unable to look away. Randy watches Gale’s adam’s apple bob up then down as he swallows. Then Gale’s head tips forward, so close that Randy can feel breath on his lips and for a second he is sure that Gale is going to kiss him.
But then the moment’s gone. Gale’s head jerks back up and his eyes flick to meet Randy’s. Then he says “Goodnight” and disappears from the room.
Randy stays where he is for a minute, spinning brain trying to process what happened, what nearly happened. But in his fuddled state, maybe he just imagined it, an innocent movement, a trick of the light and it all seems like a rather silly overreaction. And when he realizes he’s not going to get a better explanation than that he settles on undressing and collapsing on the bed. He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.
-----
Halfway through the night Randy’s slammed into consciousness by a loud wailing. Confused by lack of sleep and too much alcohol, he spends a disconcerted minute certain it’s his neighbor’s car alarm going off again and wondering why the fuck he hasn’t turned it off yet.
It’s not until he hears a shuffling of feet outside his door and the unmistakable tirade of Gale’s curses that he remembers where he is. Listening grumpily to the commotion, he quickly realizes that the supposed car alarm is actually Gale’s four-month-old daughter.
Groaning, he slumps his head back on the pillow and decides that this must have been what Gale was talking about when he called it the “3am joys of fatherhood.”
A few excruciatingly loud minutes later the wailing finally dies down into sobs and then murmurs and, eventually, nothing. Then Gale’s scruffy head is poking round the edge of the door. When he sees Randy’s eyes open and trained on him, he grins.
“Sorry about that, I call it her war-cry. It’s a pretty regular occurrence.”
He enters the room and flumps himself down on the other side of Randy’s bed. Randy stares at him for a few seconds then shakes his head,
“How do you cope with it, day after day?”
“Oh, normally I shove Sophie out of bed to deal with her, but tonight single-parent family so …”
“Mmm,” nods Randy.
Gale laughs, “It’s your idea of hell, isn’t it?”
“No …” Randy replies, but it’s unconvincing. He turns on his side to look at Gale properly, “But …” he bursts out. “Don’t you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Life before, you know? When you didn’t get woken up at 3am? When you could go out without having to get a sitter? When you could pick clothes without having to think whether baby barf would wash out of them?”
Gale rubs his chin, “Yeah, but I mean life’s gotta go on, you know?”
“Don’t you miss the show?”
He thinks for a minute. “Yeah,” his voice is quieter. “Yeah, more than I thought I would.”
He turns to face Randy and for a moment Randy thinks he sees a spark of that emotion he’d caught a glimpse of earlier, in the darkened bedroom, when the walls had spun.
“I missed you too.” Gale’s voice comes out a little hoarse.
Randy swallows, “I know.”
His mouth feels a little dry, meeting Gale’s eyes and that spark is growing stronger. Hurriedly, he turns away, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. In the movement, he’s not sure whether he imagines it, a quiet sigh from over his shoulder, but by the time he’s settled, the room is silent.
“Night, Gale.”
“Night.”
-----
Randy’s just drifting off to sleep when he feels a rustle of movement by his side and the soft press of lips over his own. His eyes fly open and his body goes rigid with shock. He can feel Gale next to him, his body just as tense. Eventually he manages to say,
“Gale,” and his voice is higher than usual. “Did you just kiss me?”
For a while Gale doesn’t answer but then, so quiet that it’s almost lost beneath the pounding of Randy’s heartbeat.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Oh.”
Silent minutes stretch endlessly between them before Gale speaks again and this time it’s his voice that sounds a little strangled.
“Did you mind?”
Breathe in. Breathe out. “No.”
Pause.
“Oh.”
Then there’s another rustle and Gale’s lips meet Randy’s for the second time, firmer, longer. When they finally part to gasp for air, Gale rests their foreheads together, lips staying so close that Randy is breathing in the air that Gale breathes out.
His eyes flutter half-closed and heavy lidded. Gale brings his hand up, fingers tracing over brow, nose and finally resting on Randy’s bottom lip. He won’t meet Gale’s eyes, afraid that if he does this will all come crashing down around him as Gale comes to his senses and bolts from the room.
But Gale doesn’t move and Randy’s heart skips a beat when he feels a finger slide further into his mouth, he parts his teeth for it. And as the quiet sound of tongue on skin fills his senses he feels Gale shift again, reaches up with a little moan as the finger is removed and replaced once more with lips.
The kiss is deeper, tongues moving together and if Randy though that this would feel familiar then he was wrong. It’s new and different and unlike anything they ever had on set. It wasn’t like Randy hadn’t thought about this before. It would be hard not to when three out of six days were spent in bed with this guy thrusting against him. But this was … different. Gale wasn’t Brian, he had a whole host of gasps and moans that were just his own.
Pushing up Gale’s T-shirt, Randy runs a hot trail of kisses down his chest just to hear those noises drop from Gale’s mouth. And as his lips drift lower Gale arches his back. It’s when Randy start sliding his fingers under the waistband of Gale’s pants that he feels it, hot hands tugging him upwards. For a moment he’s terrified Gale’s going to tell him to stop, roll off him and leave the room in silence. But when their faces are level all he hears is Gale’s hoarse whisper,
“Do I … do I need to get condoms?”
The words crash through Randy, their meaning ringing in his ears. This is it. This is actually going to happen. He just nods wordlessly, his mouth suddenly dry. Gale slides off the bed and disappears through the door.
Randy lies there for a minute, missing the warmth of Gale’s body, listening to the pounding of blood in his veins. But he can’t lie still for too long because if he does then he’ll have time to think and thinking is the last thing he wants to do right now. In an effort to give himself something else to do, he struggles through the task of getting rid of his clothes.
He’s down to his underwear by the time Gale returns, looks up when a shadow blocks the light from the hallway. Gale is standing in the door, a packet clutched tightly in one fist, a white bottle in the other. His eyes are fixed on Randy’s body. He flushes under the scrutiny and mumbles,
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”
But Gale, when his eyes finally drag up to meet Randy’s, can only choke out,
“It’s different.”
And, eyes still fixed on him, he shuts the door and moves towards the bed. Randy pulls Gale down so that he’s on his back and Randy can straddle him, whispering in his ear,
“It’s been too long, fucking too long.”
Gale’s eyes shine in the street lights coming through the window and his pupils are dark with lust. Randy, kneeling with one leg either side of Gale’s hips, tugs gently at his shirt again, lifting it up over his head and throwing it down to be lost on the bedroom floor.
Dipping his head, his mouth explores the exposed skin, following the familiar trail as lips kiss down to Gale’s waistband. Sitting back up, he lets his hand go further than his mouth, fingers tracing lightly over Gale’s erection then becoming firmer, moving the heel of his hand up and down, feeling his own arousal build as Gale starts to move his hips, groaning as Randy’s hand speeds up.
But the thought of how quickly this will all be over stills Randy’s hand and he stops before Gale is taken over the edge. As the hand is moved away Gale lets out a small whimper and it’s things like that which remind Randy that this is real, there’s no set and this is Gale beneath him not Brian.
And as that thought threatens to overwhelm him, he feels Gale’s hands, hot and fumbling on his hips, finger sliding into the waist of his briefs and he’s slammed into here and now and everything else is pushed to one side. Issues can be dealt with tomorrow.
He lifts himself up so that he’s not resting on Gale, and tugs off the black sweats that Gale obviously sleeps in, feeling himself, if possible, grow even harder, as he realizes Gale wears nothing underneath. He traces his fingers over the other man’s cock, feeling the hand on his hip grip tighter.
He looks down at Gale, eyes clenched shut, bitten lips, and wonders how far he can push this. Leaning down, he slides his arms round underneath Gale, running down his spine then lower. When Randy’s finger first brushes over his hole, Gale’s entire body tenses, but he doesn’t protest and when Randy does it again he only moans.
Randy, biting his own lips and trying not to come at the mere thought of what he’s doing, presses his finger further in, then a second. When he moves for a third, Gale gasps but it’s sharper than the ones before and Randy can tell he’s hurting him.
He looks down and Gale opens his eyes, nervous excitement flecking the hazel but he only says,
“Don’t stop, just…”
“I’ll take it easy, okay?” Randy whispers and leans forward to meet Gale’s lips in a gentle kiss before he returns to concentrating on his hand and the slow steady push of three fingers.
When Gale’s finally comfortable with the stretch, he slides them out and reaches for the hand that isn’t clutched to his waist. He removes the small foil square, gripped so hard in Gale’s fist that the edges have left marks along his palm.
He moves off him for a second to pull off his own briefs and rip open the packet, rolling the rubber onto his straining cock. Then he bites his lip,
“Lube?” he asks Gale, who swallows and motions to the bedside table with his head.
Randy grabs the little bottle and carries on with the preparation. He repositions himself, lifting Gale’s legs so that they can rest on his shoulders, running his hands over the others man’s thighs to try and sooth the straining muscles.
Gale’s hand, which had been clenched at his side, now fumbles for Randy’s, stopping the soothing strokes as their fingers interlace. As their palms meet so do their eyes, blue to hazel, locked together. And still holding Gale’s gaze, Randy pushes himself slowly forward, feeling Gale’s hand tighten round his as he pauses halfway in order to gulp in large calming breaths, the sensations almost overpowering.
His blinks to clear the black stars shooting in the corners of his vision and looks down at Gale. That sight alone is nearly enough to send him tipping over the edge. Gale’s cheeks are flushed, his tongue flattened over his bottom lip, his eyes are fixed to where their two bodies join.
Randy follows his gaze and has to turn away, knowing that if he looks too long at the proof that he’s actually entering Gale’s body, he will come right there, without even having made it through the first thrust. Instead he unlaces his fingers from Gale’s so that he can lean forward and run both hands along Gale’s chest.
Gale takes advantage of his free hands to move them to Randy’s hips, then round to clutch his ass and tentatively urge him forward. Randy obeys, pushing himself deeper then drawing out and thrusting again. Gale moans and lifts his hips to meet the thrusts, hands reaching round to his own cock before Randy bats them away.
He moves Gale’s arms up and over his head, pinning them down with one hand on the crossed wrists. He thrusts deeper, lips hovering over Gale’s as he speeds up the pace, tongue swiping out to slide into Gale’s mouth, swallowing each of his moans. And as Randy’s other hand slides into Gale’s hair and his thrusts come like heartbeats, it’s Gale that can’t last, eyes opening wide as he groans,
“Fuck Randy, I’m gonna …”
And he does. The sight of it is enough for Randy, two more thrusts and he’s yelling too, feeling the orgasm wrack his body as Gale twists and gasps beneath him.
-----
The come down is slow, golden in the darkened room. Randy gently eases himself out of Gale, disposes of the condom and collapses. Gale, next to him is heaving for breath, and in between the gasps he manages an appreciative,
“Fuck.”
And Randy can only smile in agreement, already feeling his eyelids dropping shut and sleep washing over him. He leans over to sleepily kiss the part of Gale nearest to him and whispers,
“Goodnight.”
His last thought before the blackness closes over him is: Thank God we didn’t wake the baby.
-----
In the silent guest bedroom a ray of sunlight parts a crack in the pink curtains. Randy’s eyes blink sleepily open as the beam bands right over his face. Rolling over in an effort to escape the glare he finds his cheek pressed flat against a shoulder that he’s pretty sure is not his own.
Raising his head blearily he discovers it belongs to Gale Harold, with the rest of him attached and sleeping peacefully. Randy smiles and a jolt of warmth floods through him as remembers the night before. He leans forward and, careful not to wake him, plants a soft kiss on Gale’s lips.
Then, as quietly as he can, he shuffles to the edge of the bed and begins to pull on his underpants. After a moment’s hesitation, he discards his own top in favor of Gale’s and loves the feeling of being surrounded by his familiar scent. Then he shuts the door behind him and tip-toes downstairs to the kitchen.
He’s making some coffee and munching on toast when Gale finally emerges, scrubbing his hand through his hair, a sleeping Lucy tucked under his other arm. He smiles at Randy, then, spotting the pilfered shirt, he points and says,
“Thief.”
Randy grins back at him around the slice of toast and then points at Gale’s bare chest and says,
“Worth it.”
Gale, a little surprised looks down at himself then, pleased, he leans forward over the counter and whispers, “Good morning” in Randy’s ear then kisses him on the mouth, apparently not fazed by half-chewed breakfasts.
Randy allows the kiss to last a few seconds before he pulls away, his eyes resting uneasily on the precariously balanced baby in Gale’s arms.
“Gale, I’m not sure, maybe we shouldn’t … in front of her.”
Gale follows his gaze then snorts.
“Randy, she’s four months old for fuck’s sake, she can’t even say ‘Dada’.”
“But you know, like residual memories and stuff …”
“She’s asleep. You can’t have residual memories of something you slept through. Unless, of course she’s only pretending to be asleep, to lull us into a false sense of security so she can catch us at it.”
Randy just shrugs, but all the same he’s glad when, a few minutes later, Lucy wakes and starts fretting and Gale says he better go change her diaper then he’d put her back in her crib.
Randy’s halfway through Gale’s slice of toast when he re-enters, sliding round to Randy’s side of the counter, pressing himself against his back.
“Happier now?” he whispers into Randy’s ear.
Randy nods and lets himself relax into the embrace, feeling Gale shift his hips so that they press against his ass. Twisting his head round, he aims a few lazy morning kisses on Gale’s mouth, then he turns back and studies his coffee while he casually asks,
“When’s Sophie coming back?”
He can feel Gale move behind him, checking the clock.
“Uh, just after ten.”
Randy looks at the clock too, it rests at half past nine. Smiling he puts downs his mug and turns so he’s facing Gale.
“Looks like we still have time …”
Keeping his eyes fixed on Gale’s face, he slowly lowers himself to his knees and reaches for the zipper of Gale’s pants.
-----
In the end their parting is rushed. At five to ten, Gale spots the car at the end of the road. They race upstairs and pull on the rest of their clothes. By the time the car is turning into the drive, they’re back in the hallway, smiling their way through quick, breathless kisses. Randy spinning back for one more just as the key is clicking in the lock. And then Sophie’s on the doorstep and they assume the position of straight man and his gay friend.
She takes a small step back when she sees them both by the front door.
“Hi” she says a little uncertainly. There’s an awkward pause then Randy launches.
“Oh hi. Nice to meet you again. I’m Randy, we’ve met actually, friend of Gale’s. Drank too much last night and Gale let me sleep it off in your guest room. So um … thanks and … sorry. I’m just on my way out, but good to see you.”
If she’s surprised by the sudden onslaught of information all delivered at breakneck speed, then she’s too polite to show it. There’s just one tiny flicker of hesitation sent Gale’s way before she turns to him cheerfully,
“Sure, good to meet you again Randy.”
And he smiles at her brightly, then turns dark-eyed to Gale, his tone carefully neutral as he says,
“Nice to catch up, we should do it again sometime.”
But before Gale can do more than nod, Randy’s smiled once more at Sophie and is out of the door and off down the path.
-----
After that first night their lives set a pattern. Wait till Sophie’s out, go to Gale’s, spend the night however they want. By the end of three months Lucy will let Randy hold her without crying. By mid-Fall he thinks of her as his own child. Her, Gale and him, a night-time family. They don’t talk about the flipside, the real family. But both them know it can’t last. The two families can’t run parallel forever.
-----
In the fourth year, they’re almost caught. Halfway through the best blow-job he’s ever had, Randy feels Gale lift his head, is just about to ask him what’s wrong when he hears it too. Footsteps by the door. A key in the lock.
“Shit shit shit.” Gale hops up from the bed, gathering Randy’s clothes and shoving them at him. Randy sits up and starts to pull on his pants, but Gale says,
“Fuck, no time. Stay in here.”
Sophie’s voice from the hallway calls, “Hey, Gale, you upstairs?”
Gale bundles all his clothes into a pile and grabs a towel from the bathroom wrapping it round his waist.
“Yeah. Honey, I was just about to get in the shower.” Then he hisses at Randy, “I’ll herd her into the kitchen, you run down and get out through the front door.”
Randy looks at him incredulously then down at his naked body.
“But -”
“Randy, get changed behind a tree or something, I’m fucking serious.” And he’s off without waiting for a reply, smile already in place.
“Hey, you’re back early.”
“Yeah, you okay, look a little flushed?”
“Hm? No, fine. You want me to help put the shopping away? We can shove it in the kitchen.”
Randy waits until all he can hear is the rush of blood through his veins and then makes a dash for it. Down the stairs, door open, door shut and through, ducking down behind the wall between Gale’s house and his neighbors and hoping to God no one is looking out their window.
He tugs on his clothes, fingers fumbling with leftover adrenaline and his heart doesn’t stop pounding till he’s out of the alley and a block from Gale’s house.
-----
It becomes more difficult after that. It felt too risky returning to Gale’s again and it’s harder for him to find an excuse for being out of town for a few nights than it had been for him to simply offer to stay at home if Sophie wanted to go out. He still makes the effort as often as he can and Randy is always waiting for him, but however hard they tried to stop it, things begin to change.
-----
In the fifth year, they fight. It doesn’t start off that way. They are lying on the sofa, Gale’s head in Randy’s lap. Randy’s hand is absentmindedly playing with Gale’s, weaving the fingers together and tracing the palm. When the fingertips reach the gold band around Gale’s fourth finger they stop, half-bitten fingernails tap it for a moment thoughtfully, then Randy says,
“Why do you still wear this?”
Gale lifts his head and sits up.
“Because I’m still married.”
Randy snorts, “Hardly.”
“That’s not what Sophie thinks.”
Randy turns away from him and says something too low for Gale to catch.
“What was that?”
Randy sighs, “Don’t you wish you could leave it behind, disappear with me?”
He regrets the words almost as soon as they’re out of his mouth, they belong to those thoughts they both agreed not to think about, but Gale doesn’t give him a chance to take them back.
“Fuck. Fuck Randy, you know I can’t.”
And suddenly Randy doesn’t regret them. He’s longed to say them and now that one’s slipped out it seems like floodgates have been opened.
“Can’t or won’t, Gale? Fucking tell me that. How do you think it feels whenever we meet and I have to deal with the fact that the next morning, the next hour even, you’ll leave me and go back to them?”
Gale’s silent, then he says quietly, “It pisses you off.”
“Yes.”
“It breaks your heart.” Statement, not a question, he answers it anyway.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I still can’t.”
And then they’re off, fury sparking between them like fireworks. Things that have lain silent between them for all these years are suddenly spat out, words edged with bitterness. The walls of Randy’s small room are stretched to contain the anger and they are so close to coming to blows but Randy shouts, “Maybe if I can’t have it all Gale, fuck, I don’t want any of it.”
And suddenly it’s over and Gale slams the door.
For the rest of the year they live broken and apart.
-----
In the sixth year they meet again. Randy answers his door one day and finds Gale waiting outside, a black duffle in his right hand, exhaustion in his eyes. Randy has no idea how he found him, he’s moved five times in the last year and never bothered to tell anyone where he was going. But before he can ask, Gale holds up his left hand, there is no ring on the fourth finger.
“I’m a free man.”
Randy freezes, the words hitting him like a gut punch. For a long time he stands there motionless, torn between running forward and pressing Gale’s lips to his own or stumbling backwards and terrifying himself with just how much that bare finger means.
He settles on neither, just swallows and opens the door wider.
“I guess you better come in then.”
Fandom: Queer as Folk RPS
Pairing/Characters: Randy/Gale
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 5,575
Description: In the first year after the show ended they kept in touch, postcards, letters, often meeting, sometimes the whole gang, sometimes just them. Movies, bars, first nights at theatres, the old easiness together always returned by the end of the evening.
Challenge: None
Disclaimer: They don't actually do this, and if they did they probably wouldn't appreciate me writing it all down. And hugs to my fantabulous beta besame_bj for her help.
Happy Families
In the first year after the show ended they kept in touch, postcards, letters, often meeting, sometimes the whole gang, sometimes just them. Movies, bars, first nights at theatres, the old easiness together always returned by the end of the evening.
In the second year, Gale starts dating Sophie. He introduces her to Randy a little nervously, arm tight around her shoulders. She’s nice and Randy talks to her politely about theatre and music but when he gets home that night, and every other night that week, he finds himself lying awake in bed, trying hard not to pinpoint exactly why he hates her.
In the third year Gale and Sophie get married and move in together and that winter baby Lucy is born. Randy means to call and send his congratulations but somehow it … slips his mind.
At the beginning of the fourth year Gale gives up hope of hearing anything from Randy and decides to contact him. Randy comes back to his apartment one afternoon to find the red light of his answering machine flashing.
“Hey, long time, no see. Just calling to ask whether you were ever planning to come see the newest member of the Harold family? I’ve been up to my eyes in diaper shit and baby talk for weeks and I guess I could use a little intelligent company for a change. Um … can you come this Saturday? Sophie’s out at her Mom’s so … call me, let me know when you’ll be getting here.”
It takes Randy a long time to pick up the phone and answer the call.
-----
It’s early evening when he pulls up outside the house, sun just falling from the sky as he rings the bell and runs a nervous hand through his hair. The door opens and yellow light spills onto the steps. Gale stands in the door, in sweats and an old shirt, grinning, a baby’s pacifier gripped in his teeth, every inch the stay-at home dad. Randy’s going to laugh but before he can, Gale's removed the pink plastic and, grinning wider, motioned Randy inside.
A kiss on the doorstep, intimacy that can only come from fake fucking your way through the better part of five years together. And then Gale’s off, down the hallway, throwing questions over his shoulder, How was the drive up there? How had the last play gone? What did he want to drink? And why was he still driving that piece of shit he’d parked outside?
Randy struggles to keep up, weaving his way through cuddly toys and baby clothes to get to the next room. They seem to be standing in a kitchen, there’s a fridge and oven but on the other side is a sofa and TV so maybe it’s the sitting room too.
Photos and stills from the series litter every surface and mismatched junk lies in piles on the floor. Randy thinks of his own stark apartment and, a little unsure in this colorful clutter, he longs for it.
He’s shoved in the direction of sofa while Gale rummages in the fridge and a minute later a familiar brand of beer flies through the air to Randy’s hand. Gale doesn’t know that Randy quit the drink and has been living off water and lattes for the past year. Randy doesn’t correct him, it would feel somehow … affected. Instead he gets rid of the lid and takes a tentative sip and feels as though he’s just gone back in time.
He watches Gale as he navigates himself easily round the messy kitchen, grabbing another beer for himself and shutting the fridge door with his hip as he winches off the beer cap on the edge of the kitchen counter.
He hasn’t changed much in the three years since the show. His hair is a little longer, falling forwards sometimes into his eyes and there are a few more laughter lines edging his face but apart from that he’s much the same. Randy decides fatherhood suits him and, as though reading his mind, Gale turns to face him, grinning and asks,
“So, you wanna meet Lucy?”
He leads Randy over to a pink cradle next to the TV.
“She’s just down here so I could keep an eye on her, most of the time she sleeps upstairs,” he explains leaning down. “Here we go.”
He scoops up a bundle of sleepy four-month-old baby girl and cradles her in his arms. Unfazed, she merely blinks a few times then slumps her head on his chest and falls promptly asleep. Gale turns to Randy beaming that proud-parent smile that clearly hasn’t worn off yet.
“Do you want to hold her?”
“I’ll drop her,” Randy warns.
But Gale just laughs and hands her over. Randy hitches her up awkwardly and hopes that Gale realizes he wasn’t joking. Looking down at her nervously he decides that she doesn’t really look like Gale, except for maybe the wisps of dark hair under her cap. But then to Randy, all babies kind of look the same.
Hoping she’s safely asleep he starts a tentative rocking motion with his arms. The effect is immediate, tiny mouth flies open, impossibly wide, eyes squeezed shut and little hands flailing as she screams at the top of her lungs.
Randy jerks back in shock, holding the screaming bundle away from him as the wail reaches new ear-splitting levels. He turns to Gale helplessly.
“Shit, sorry.”
But Gale just laughs again and takes the wailing baby out of his arms. He coos at her for a bit and lets her calm down. When she’s finally quiet he tucks her in his arm and turns to Randy.
“If you’ll believe it, she used to be worse than this. First few weeks were fucking hell. Let me just go put her to bed then we’ll catch up in peace, okay?”
-----
When Lucy’s settled in her crib, Gale makes his way back downstairs, grabbing a couple of beers and plonking down beside Randy on the sofa with a sigh. Switching on the TV, he channel-hops for a bit until he finds one showing old James Bond movies. But 007’s exploits quickly become background noise as they immerse themselves in reminiscing.
They’re halfway through Goldfinger when they finally run out of things to catch up on and they sit in comfortable silence. Randy’s head is spinning a little, he’s onto his fifth beer and it’s the first alcohol his system’s had to deal with in a long time.
He’s just about to sleepily remark that it would be technically impossible for a man to be sucked out of an airplane window, especially a man that fat, when he feels Gale’s arm slide round behind his shoulders. It’s a familiar position from back when they were working together but things are different now and he looks at Gale in surprise.
Gale just gives him that lopsided smile and says, “I was considering the yawn arm-stretch routine but hey, why be subtle?”
And Randy laughs and lets himself relax.
So that’s how they stay, until the credits roll and the theme music starts to play and Randy yawns and stands up, “Fuck it’s midnight, I’d better be heading back.”
The fact that when he stood up he almost fell straight back down again is not lost on Gale. He snorts and says, “I don’t think you should do any more driving tonight. You can crash in my guest room if you like.”
Randy assesses his own drunkenness and decides that that’s probably a very good idea. He nods dizzily and Gale leads him to the stairs, collecting a bunch of empty bottles and dumping them in the sink on his way.
He’s a little unsteady on his feet too but all the same he manages to get them upstairs to the door that’s next to the bathroom. Flinging it open, he reveals a room filled mostly by a large double bed. There’s about two feet of floor by each wall. Well, Randy presumes it’s floor though he can see no evidence of it.
Like the hallway, it’s covered in a thick layer of books, toys and discarded clothes. The bed is equally littered but Gale scoops up the worst of it and hurriedly shoves it into an already over-spilling closet. As he slams its door shut Randy can hear the dull thud as the contents cascade off their shelves and against the wood. Gale turns to him a little sheepish.
“We don’t get guests that often.”
But Randy just smiles; to his tired eyes the room looks perfect.
He’s aiming to slide through the gap between Gale and the wall in order to get to the right side of the bed but Gale decides to move at the same time and they end up pressed together, awkwardly close. Randy blushes furiously and starts to move away but he’s stopped by the expression on Gale’s face.
Gale doesn’t look embarrassed or uncomfortable with their position. His face is blank and he makes no effort to remove himself but his eyes are fixed on Randy’s mouth, seemingly unable to look away. Randy watches Gale’s adam’s apple bob up then down as he swallows. Then Gale’s head tips forward, so close that Randy can feel breath on his lips and for a second he is sure that Gale is going to kiss him.
But then the moment’s gone. Gale’s head jerks back up and his eyes flick to meet Randy’s. Then he says “Goodnight” and disappears from the room.
Randy stays where he is for a minute, spinning brain trying to process what happened, what nearly happened. But in his fuddled state, maybe he just imagined it, an innocent movement, a trick of the light and it all seems like a rather silly overreaction. And when he realizes he’s not going to get a better explanation than that he settles on undressing and collapsing on the bed. He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.
-----
Halfway through the night Randy’s slammed into consciousness by a loud wailing. Confused by lack of sleep and too much alcohol, he spends a disconcerted minute certain it’s his neighbor’s car alarm going off again and wondering why the fuck he hasn’t turned it off yet.
It’s not until he hears a shuffling of feet outside his door and the unmistakable tirade of Gale’s curses that he remembers where he is. Listening grumpily to the commotion, he quickly realizes that the supposed car alarm is actually Gale’s four-month-old daughter.
Groaning, he slumps his head back on the pillow and decides that this must have been what Gale was talking about when he called it the “3am joys of fatherhood.”
A few excruciatingly loud minutes later the wailing finally dies down into sobs and then murmurs and, eventually, nothing. Then Gale’s scruffy head is poking round the edge of the door. When he sees Randy’s eyes open and trained on him, he grins.
“Sorry about that, I call it her war-cry. It’s a pretty regular occurrence.”
He enters the room and flumps himself down on the other side of Randy’s bed. Randy stares at him for a few seconds then shakes his head,
“How do you cope with it, day after day?”
“Oh, normally I shove Sophie out of bed to deal with her, but tonight single-parent family so …”
“Mmm,” nods Randy.
Gale laughs, “It’s your idea of hell, isn’t it?”
“No …” Randy replies, but it’s unconvincing. He turns on his side to look at Gale properly, “But …” he bursts out. “Don’t you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Life before, you know? When you didn’t get woken up at 3am? When you could go out without having to get a sitter? When you could pick clothes without having to think whether baby barf would wash out of them?”
Gale rubs his chin, “Yeah, but I mean life’s gotta go on, you know?”
“Don’t you miss the show?”
He thinks for a minute. “Yeah,” his voice is quieter. “Yeah, more than I thought I would.”
He turns to face Randy and for a moment Randy thinks he sees a spark of that emotion he’d caught a glimpse of earlier, in the darkened bedroom, when the walls had spun.
“I missed you too.” Gale’s voice comes out a little hoarse.
Randy swallows, “I know.”
His mouth feels a little dry, meeting Gale’s eyes and that spark is growing stronger. Hurriedly, he turns away, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. In the movement, he’s not sure whether he imagines it, a quiet sigh from over his shoulder, but by the time he’s settled, the room is silent.
“Night, Gale.”
“Night.”
-----
Randy’s just drifting off to sleep when he feels a rustle of movement by his side and the soft press of lips over his own. His eyes fly open and his body goes rigid with shock. He can feel Gale next to him, his body just as tense. Eventually he manages to say,
“Gale,” and his voice is higher than usual. “Did you just kiss me?”
For a while Gale doesn’t answer but then, so quiet that it’s almost lost beneath the pounding of Randy’s heartbeat.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Oh.”
Silent minutes stretch endlessly between them before Gale speaks again and this time it’s his voice that sounds a little strangled.
“Did you mind?”
Breathe in. Breathe out. “No.”
Pause.
“Oh.”
Then there’s another rustle and Gale’s lips meet Randy’s for the second time, firmer, longer. When they finally part to gasp for air, Gale rests their foreheads together, lips staying so close that Randy is breathing in the air that Gale breathes out.
His eyes flutter half-closed and heavy lidded. Gale brings his hand up, fingers tracing over brow, nose and finally resting on Randy’s bottom lip. He won’t meet Gale’s eyes, afraid that if he does this will all come crashing down around him as Gale comes to his senses and bolts from the room.
But Gale doesn’t move and Randy’s heart skips a beat when he feels a finger slide further into his mouth, he parts his teeth for it. And as the quiet sound of tongue on skin fills his senses he feels Gale shift again, reaches up with a little moan as the finger is removed and replaced once more with lips.
The kiss is deeper, tongues moving together and if Randy though that this would feel familiar then he was wrong. It’s new and different and unlike anything they ever had on set. It wasn’t like Randy hadn’t thought about this before. It would be hard not to when three out of six days were spent in bed with this guy thrusting against him. But this was … different. Gale wasn’t Brian, he had a whole host of gasps and moans that were just his own.
Pushing up Gale’s T-shirt, Randy runs a hot trail of kisses down his chest just to hear those noises drop from Gale’s mouth. And as his lips drift lower Gale arches his back. It’s when Randy start sliding his fingers under the waistband of Gale’s pants that he feels it, hot hands tugging him upwards. For a moment he’s terrified Gale’s going to tell him to stop, roll off him and leave the room in silence. But when their faces are level all he hears is Gale’s hoarse whisper,
“Do I … do I need to get condoms?”
The words crash through Randy, their meaning ringing in his ears. This is it. This is actually going to happen. He just nods wordlessly, his mouth suddenly dry. Gale slides off the bed and disappears through the door.
Randy lies there for a minute, missing the warmth of Gale’s body, listening to the pounding of blood in his veins. But he can’t lie still for too long because if he does then he’ll have time to think and thinking is the last thing he wants to do right now. In an effort to give himself something else to do, he struggles through the task of getting rid of his clothes.
He’s down to his underwear by the time Gale returns, looks up when a shadow blocks the light from the hallway. Gale is standing in the door, a packet clutched tightly in one fist, a white bottle in the other. His eyes are fixed on Randy’s body. He flushes under the scrutiny and mumbles,
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”
But Gale, when his eyes finally drag up to meet Randy’s, can only choke out,
“It’s different.”
And, eyes still fixed on him, he shuts the door and moves towards the bed. Randy pulls Gale down so that he’s on his back and Randy can straddle him, whispering in his ear,
“It’s been too long, fucking too long.”
Gale’s eyes shine in the street lights coming through the window and his pupils are dark with lust. Randy, kneeling with one leg either side of Gale’s hips, tugs gently at his shirt again, lifting it up over his head and throwing it down to be lost on the bedroom floor.
Dipping his head, his mouth explores the exposed skin, following the familiar trail as lips kiss down to Gale’s waistband. Sitting back up, he lets his hand go further than his mouth, fingers tracing lightly over Gale’s erection then becoming firmer, moving the heel of his hand up and down, feeling his own arousal build as Gale starts to move his hips, groaning as Randy’s hand speeds up.
But the thought of how quickly this will all be over stills Randy’s hand and he stops before Gale is taken over the edge. As the hand is moved away Gale lets out a small whimper and it’s things like that which remind Randy that this is real, there’s no set and this is Gale beneath him not Brian.
And as that thought threatens to overwhelm him, he feels Gale’s hands, hot and fumbling on his hips, finger sliding into the waist of his briefs and he’s slammed into here and now and everything else is pushed to one side. Issues can be dealt with tomorrow.
He lifts himself up so that he’s not resting on Gale, and tugs off the black sweats that Gale obviously sleeps in, feeling himself, if possible, grow even harder, as he realizes Gale wears nothing underneath. He traces his fingers over the other man’s cock, feeling the hand on his hip grip tighter.
He looks down at Gale, eyes clenched shut, bitten lips, and wonders how far he can push this. Leaning down, he slides his arms round underneath Gale, running down his spine then lower. When Randy’s finger first brushes over his hole, Gale’s entire body tenses, but he doesn’t protest and when Randy does it again he only moans.
Randy, biting his own lips and trying not to come at the mere thought of what he’s doing, presses his finger further in, then a second. When he moves for a third, Gale gasps but it’s sharper than the ones before and Randy can tell he’s hurting him.
He looks down and Gale opens his eyes, nervous excitement flecking the hazel but he only says,
“Don’t stop, just…”
“I’ll take it easy, okay?” Randy whispers and leans forward to meet Gale’s lips in a gentle kiss before he returns to concentrating on his hand and the slow steady push of three fingers.
When Gale’s finally comfortable with the stretch, he slides them out and reaches for the hand that isn’t clutched to his waist. He removes the small foil square, gripped so hard in Gale’s fist that the edges have left marks along his palm.
He moves off him for a second to pull off his own briefs and rip open the packet, rolling the rubber onto his straining cock. Then he bites his lip,
“Lube?” he asks Gale, who swallows and motions to the bedside table with his head.
Randy grabs the little bottle and carries on with the preparation. He repositions himself, lifting Gale’s legs so that they can rest on his shoulders, running his hands over the others man’s thighs to try and sooth the straining muscles.
Gale’s hand, which had been clenched at his side, now fumbles for Randy’s, stopping the soothing strokes as their fingers interlace. As their palms meet so do their eyes, blue to hazel, locked together. And still holding Gale’s gaze, Randy pushes himself slowly forward, feeling Gale’s hand tighten round his as he pauses halfway in order to gulp in large calming breaths, the sensations almost overpowering.
His blinks to clear the black stars shooting in the corners of his vision and looks down at Gale. That sight alone is nearly enough to send him tipping over the edge. Gale’s cheeks are flushed, his tongue flattened over his bottom lip, his eyes are fixed to where their two bodies join.
Randy follows his gaze and has to turn away, knowing that if he looks too long at the proof that he’s actually entering Gale’s body, he will come right there, without even having made it through the first thrust. Instead he unlaces his fingers from Gale’s so that he can lean forward and run both hands along Gale’s chest.
Gale takes advantage of his free hands to move them to Randy’s hips, then round to clutch his ass and tentatively urge him forward. Randy obeys, pushing himself deeper then drawing out and thrusting again. Gale moans and lifts his hips to meet the thrusts, hands reaching round to his own cock before Randy bats them away.
He moves Gale’s arms up and over his head, pinning them down with one hand on the crossed wrists. He thrusts deeper, lips hovering over Gale’s as he speeds up the pace, tongue swiping out to slide into Gale’s mouth, swallowing each of his moans. And as Randy’s other hand slides into Gale’s hair and his thrusts come like heartbeats, it’s Gale that can’t last, eyes opening wide as he groans,
“Fuck Randy, I’m gonna …”
And he does. The sight of it is enough for Randy, two more thrusts and he’s yelling too, feeling the orgasm wrack his body as Gale twists and gasps beneath him.
-----
The come down is slow, golden in the darkened room. Randy gently eases himself out of Gale, disposes of the condom and collapses. Gale, next to him is heaving for breath, and in between the gasps he manages an appreciative,
“Fuck.”
And Randy can only smile in agreement, already feeling his eyelids dropping shut and sleep washing over him. He leans over to sleepily kiss the part of Gale nearest to him and whispers,
“Goodnight.”
His last thought before the blackness closes over him is: Thank God we didn’t wake the baby.
-----
In the silent guest bedroom a ray of sunlight parts a crack in the pink curtains. Randy’s eyes blink sleepily open as the beam bands right over his face. Rolling over in an effort to escape the glare he finds his cheek pressed flat against a shoulder that he’s pretty sure is not his own.
Raising his head blearily he discovers it belongs to Gale Harold, with the rest of him attached and sleeping peacefully. Randy smiles and a jolt of warmth floods through him as remembers the night before. He leans forward and, careful not to wake him, plants a soft kiss on Gale’s lips.
Then, as quietly as he can, he shuffles to the edge of the bed and begins to pull on his underpants. After a moment’s hesitation, he discards his own top in favor of Gale’s and loves the feeling of being surrounded by his familiar scent. Then he shuts the door behind him and tip-toes downstairs to the kitchen.
He’s making some coffee and munching on toast when Gale finally emerges, scrubbing his hand through his hair, a sleeping Lucy tucked under his other arm. He smiles at Randy, then, spotting the pilfered shirt, he points and says,
“Thief.”
Randy grins back at him around the slice of toast and then points at Gale’s bare chest and says,
“Worth it.”
Gale, a little surprised looks down at himself then, pleased, he leans forward over the counter and whispers, “Good morning” in Randy’s ear then kisses him on the mouth, apparently not fazed by half-chewed breakfasts.
Randy allows the kiss to last a few seconds before he pulls away, his eyes resting uneasily on the precariously balanced baby in Gale’s arms.
“Gale, I’m not sure, maybe we shouldn’t … in front of her.”
Gale follows his gaze then snorts.
“Randy, she’s four months old for fuck’s sake, she can’t even say ‘Dada’.”
“But you know, like residual memories and stuff …”
“She’s asleep. You can’t have residual memories of something you slept through. Unless, of course she’s only pretending to be asleep, to lull us into a false sense of security so she can catch us at it.”
Randy just shrugs, but all the same he’s glad when, a few minutes later, Lucy wakes and starts fretting and Gale says he better go change her diaper then he’d put her back in her crib.
Randy’s halfway through Gale’s slice of toast when he re-enters, sliding round to Randy’s side of the counter, pressing himself against his back.
“Happier now?” he whispers into Randy’s ear.
Randy nods and lets himself relax into the embrace, feeling Gale shift his hips so that they press against his ass. Twisting his head round, he aims a few lazy morning kisses on Gale’s mouth, then he turns back and studies his coffee while he casually asks,
“When’s Sophie coming back?”
He can feel Gale move behind him, checking the clock.
“Uh, just after ten.”
Randy looks at the clock too, it rests at half past nine. Smiling he puts downs his mug and turns so he’s facing Gale.
“Looks like we still have time …”
Keeping his eyes fixed on Gale’s face, he slowly lowers himself to his knees and reaches for the zipper of Gale’s pants.
-----
In the end their parting is rushed. At five to ten, Gale spots the car at the end of the road. They race upstairs and pull on the rest of their clothes. By the time the car is turning into the drive, they’re back in the hallway, smiling their way through quick, breathless kisses. Randy spinning back for one more just as the key is clicking in the lock. And then Sophie’s on the doorstep and they assume the position of straight man and his gay friend.
She takes a small step back when she sees them both by the front door.
“Hi” she says a little uncertainly. There’s an awkward pause then Randy launches.
“Oh hi. Nice to meet you again. I’m Randy, we’ve met actually, friend of Gale’s. Drank too much last night and Gale let me sleep it off in your guest room. So um … thanks and … sorry. I’m just on my way out, but good to see you.”
If she’s surprised by the sudden onslaught of information all delivered at breakneck speed, then she’s too polite to show it. There’s just one tiny flicker of hesitation sent Gale’s way before she turns to him cheerfully,
“Sure, good to meet you again Randy.”
And he smiles at her brightly, then turns dark-eyed to Gale, his tone carefully neutral as he says,
“Nice to catch up, we should do it again sometime.”
But before Gale can do more than nod, Randy’s smiled once more at Sophie and is out of the door and off down the path.
-----
After that first night their lives set a pattern. Wait till Sophie’s out, go to Gale’s, spend the night however they want. By the end of three months Lucy will let Randy hold her without crying. By mid-Fall he thinks of her as his own child. Her, Gale and him, a night-time family. They don’t talk about the flipside, the real family. But both them know it can’t last. The two families can’t run parallel forever.
-----
In the fourth year, they’re almost caught. Halfway through the best blow-job he’s ever had, Randy feels Gale lift his head, is just about to ask him what’s wrong when he hears it too. Footsteps by the door. A key in the lock.
“Shit shit shit.” Gale hops up from the bed, gathering Randy’s clothes and shoving them at him. Randy sits up and starts to pull on his pants, but Gale says,
“Fuck, no time. Stay in here.”
Sophie’s voice from the hallway calls, “Hey, Gale, you upstairs?”
Gale bundles all his clothes into a pile and grabs a towel from the bathroom wrapping it round his waist.
“Yeah. Honey, I was just about to get in the shower.” Then he hisses at Randy, “I’ll herd her into the kitchen, you run down and get out through the front door.”
Randy looks at him incredulously then down at his naked body.
“But -”
“Randy, get changed behind a tree or something, I’m fucking serious.” And he’s off without waiting for a reply, smile already in place.
“Hey, you’re back early.”
“Yeah, you okay, look a little flushed?”
“Hm? No, fine. You want me to help put the shopping away? We can shove it in the kitchen.”
Randy waits until all he can hear is the rush of blood through his veins and then makes a dash for it. Down the stairs, door open, door shut and through, ducking down behind the wall between Gale’s house and his neighbors and hoping to God no one is looking out their window.
He tugs on his clothes, fingers fumbling with leftover adrenaline and his heart doesn’t stop pounding till he’s out of the alley and a block from Gale’s house.
-----
It becomes more difficult after that. It felt too risky returning to Gale’s again and it’s harder for him to find an excuse for being out of town for a few nights than it had been for him to simply offer to stay at home if Sophie wanted to go out. He still makes the effort as often as he can and Randy is always waiting for him, but however hard they tried to stop it, things begin to change.
-----
In the fifth year, they fight. It doesn’t start off that way. They are lying on the sofa, Gale’s head in Randy’s lap. Randy’s hand is absentmindedly playing with Gale’s, weaving the fingers together and tracing the palm. When the fingertips reach the gold band around Gale’s fourth finger they stop, half-bitten fingernails tap it for a moment thoughtfully, then Randy says,
“Why do you still wear this?”
Gale lifts his head and sits up.
“Because I’m still married.”
Randy snorts, “Hardly.”
“That’s not what Sophie thinks.”
Randy turns away from him and says something too low for Gale to catch.
“What was that?”
Randy sighs, “Don’t you wish you could leave it behind, disappear with me?”
He regrets the words almost as soon as they’re out of his mouth, they belong to those thoughts they both agreed not to think about, but Gale doesn’t give him a chance to take them back.
“Fuck. Fuck Randy, you know I can’t.”
And suddenly Randy doesn’t regret them. He’s longed to say them and now that one’s slipped out it seems like floodgates have been opened.
“Can’t or won’t, Gale? Fucking tell me that. How do you think it feels whenever we meet and I have to deal with the fact that the next morning, the next hour even, you’ll leave me and go back to them?”
Gale’s silent, then he says quietly, “It pisses you off.”
“Yes.”
“It breaks your heart.” Statement, not a question, he answers it anyway.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I still can’t.”
And then they’re off, fury sparking between them like fireworks. Things that have lain silent between them for all these years are suddenly spat out, words edged with bitterness. The walls of Randy’s small room are stretched to contain the anger and they are so close to coming to blows but Randy shouts, “Maybe if I can’t have it all Gale, fuck, I don’t want any of it.”
And suddenly it’s over and Gale slams the door.
For the rest of the year they live broken and apart.
-----
In the sixth year they meet again. Randy answers his door one day and finds Gale waiting outside, a black duffle in his right hand, exhaustion in his eyes. Randy has no idea how he found him, he’s moved five times in the last year and never bothered to tell anyone where he was going. But before he can ask, Gale holds up his left hand, there is no ring on the fourth finger.
“I’m a free man.”
Randy freezes, the words hitting him like a gut punch. For a long time he stands there motionless, torn between running forward and pressing Gale’s lips to his own or stumbling backwards and terrifying himself with just how much that bare finger means.
He settles on neither, just swallows and opens the door wider.
“I guess you better come in then.”