Wilby fic: This Is Not A Love Story But A Story About Love (the Worldliness remix), by kuonji, PG-13
Title: This Is Not A Love Story But A Story About Love (the Worldliness remix)
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters: Buddy French, Duck MacDonald, OCs
Pairings: Buddy/Duck, Carol/Buddy mentioned, Duck/Dan mentioned
Category: character study, relationship, pre-movie
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~3580
Summary: Duck was the one who reached out first -- but Buddy was the one who held on until the last second.
A/N: This is a remix of my story, Innocence. This one is for green_grrl, who said about that story, "Oh, those first sentences are heartbreakers, because they're not quite what they first seem!"
This Is Not A Love Story But A Story About Love (the Worldliness remix)
by kuonji
Buddy danced with Duck MacDonald in public when he was five years old.
It was the annual Harvest Play. Buddy got to be a carrot because he was tall for his age. Duck was one of three peas -- slightly misshapen on account of how he kept tripping in the costume. They skipped in a circle and sang something about peas and carrots being "Good for you, and yummy, too! They go-o-o together perfectly!"
Buddy didn't remember it very well, but his mum was always happy to pull out the pictures for guests.
***
Buddy kissed Duck MacDonald -- twice -- on the playground when he was in third grade.
Duck stayed over at Dennis's place after school just like Buddy did, so they were often forced to play with him even though he was a year younger and kind of a pain.
One day, Buddy won the coin flip, so he got to be Superman. Dennis was a Russian spy. He climbed up and down the jungle gym in the park behind his house, making shooting and bomb noises and cackling evilly while Buddy flew around the playground, swooshing and diving down to save innocent people from Dennis.
Duck complained and got in the way until they agreed to let him play.
"He can be Jimmy Olsen," Dennis decided.
"I don't want to be Jimmy," Duck whined. Everyone knew that Jimmy Olsen was only there to get in trouble so that Superman could save him.
"Fine, then you can be Lois Lane," Dennis said, giggling. "Hey, wait a minute." He ran over to his mum and came back with her flowery straw hat. The look on Duck's face was hilarious when Dennis plopped the hat on Duck's head. Buddy laughed so hard he had to sit down on the grass.
"I've got your girlfriend now, Superman! What are you going to do?" Dennis grabbed the shorter boy and cocked his thumb and forefinger at his head.
"I'm not Lois!" Duck shouted, struggling to get away, which was great, because it made him look even more like a hostage.
"I'll save you!" Buddy shouted. He swooped in and air-punched Dennis, who obligingly threw himself backward with a loud cry of, "Curse you, Superman! I'll get you yet!"
"I'm not Lois!" Duck repeated, his face scrunching up.
Buddy, caught up in the game, pulled Duck into his arms. "You're safe now," he said. Then he leaned in and planted a kiss right on the other boy's lips.
Duck yelled in disgust and squirmed away, scrubbing his lips fiercely. Dennis was rolling on the ground, holding his ribs. Buddy broke up laughing as well. Duck took the hat off and threw it at them. "I hate you!" he yelled, before turning and running off.
Buddy exchanged a worried look with Dennis.
Sure enough, a second later they heard Dennis's mum call out, "Boys! What's going on?"
Thinking fast, Buddy waved Dennis in the direction Duck had gone and yelled back, "Nothing! We're playing tag!" Dennis, no dummy, immediately took off running. Buddy chased him until they reached the sparse woods around the back of the playground.
"Where is he?" Dennis whispered, peering around.
"Split up," Buddy suggested. Dennis went left while Buddy went right. He poked around the bushes and called Duck's name softly.
Finally, he spotted a scrap of red -- the color of Duck's shirt -- around a tree. Relieved, he trotted over and knelt down next to the other boy.
Duck was curled up with his knees to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Was he crying? That would be hard to explain to Dennis's mum. Maybe they could tell her he fell down.
"Come on. Let's go back," he said, tugging on Duck's sleeve.
"I hate you," was the muffled reply. And he was crying. Buddy sat down next to him, unsure.
Now that he thought about it, he felt kind of bad. Duck was a pain, but maybe he couldn't help that. He was still little. Awkwardly, Buddy patted Duck's back. "Hey. I'm sorry. Okay?"
Duck lifted his head just enough to look over his arms. His eyes were watery and red. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Duck put his head back down. "I don't want to be Lois," he whined, his voice muffled again.
Buddy sighed, exasperated. "It was a joke, okay? You can be the bad guy next time. How about that?"
Duck lifted his head again. "Can I have the bandanna?"
Buddy was confused for a moment. Then he realized that the kid was getting Superman and Cowboys mixed up. "Yeah, sure."
Duck lowered his arms so he could glare at Buddy full on. "And you won't kiss me again?"
Buddy rolled his eyes. Then he leaned forward and pecked Duck on the cheek. Duck squealed and rolled backward. "I will if you don't get back there right now," Buddy threatened him.
Unexpectedly, Duck laughed. "You'd have to catch me," he said, scrambling to his feet and darting off. One thing for the kid, he was fast. Buddy could barely keep up.
Maybe they could run races next time, he thought. They could get Kevin from next door to play with them, and Buddy would pick Duck for his partner. He was sure they would win.
***
Buddy slept with Duck MacDonald in the woods during the summer between junior high and high school.
Duck found him by the creek while he was trying to catch one of the slippery trout. His stomach was growling and he was getting more and more frustrated. Jean Craighead George's My Side Of The Mountain had made it sound easy. Not to mention, Duck had always boasted about being able to catch a trout by himself, and Buddy was a year older than he was.
"Hey, Buddy."
He turned too fast and slipped on the rock. If Duck hadn't caught him, he might have fallen straight into the creek. And then he would have had to go home for sure.
It wasn't as if he were trying to hide, exactly, but he hadn't expected anyone to find him. Buddy was mostly left alone when he wandered off like this. Sometimes he wished he were brave enough to just hop a ferry and run away for real.
"What are you doing here?" he groused, as he stood up straight and brushed himself off.
"What are you?"
"I'm fishing. What does it look like?"
"Mind if I join you?"
Buddy started to say yes, but Duck added, "Bet you a dollar I get the first fish." That made it all right. So Buddy shrugged and said, as expected, "Bet you a dollar you won't."
It turned out Duck hadn't just been boasting. It took a while, but Duck caught a fish, and he cleaned it, too. Buddy built a fire, and they roasted it together. It was starting to burn on the outside and still a little raw on the inside when Buddy bit into it, but he was so hungry he didn't care.
"Are you going home tonight?" Duck asked him when they'd licked their fingers clean and the fish bones were popping in the fire.
"I'm not going home ever," was what he wanted to answer, but he only shrugged. "I've got my sleeping bag. It's warm out."
Duck nodded. "My dad said it was a good night for my first time camping alone."
Buddy frowned at him. "What?"
Duck pointed downstream. "I had a spot picked out before I went fishing. I can move my stuff over here if that's okay?"
"Sure."
So Duck went away for a few minutes and came back with a backpack and a bedroll that he laid out next to Buddy's sleeping bag. Even though it was only just starting to get dark, it seemed like there wasn't much else to do except go to sleep. They banked the fire and climbed into bed. Buddy turned over and looked at the other boy. Duck smiled back at him.
"Good night, Buddy."
"Good night."
He was glad Duck had found him.
Buddy woke up when he felt something in his hair, kind of... stroking it forward to back. He opened his eyes. It was still night, but the fire was glowing a bit, and the moon was pretty bright. He saw Duck was up on one elbow, his other hand touching Buddy's hair.
"What are you doing?"
Duck jerked his hand away. He looked scared. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay." When Duck rolled to a sitting position, Buddy sat up, too, and grabbed his arm. "I said, it's okay. But why were you doing that?"
"I-- I don't know." He looked away at the fire. "It looked soft."
Buddy touched his own hair. His mum said it was thick and handsome. Nobody had said it was 'soft' before. "Is it?" he asked.
Duck looked back at him. His eyes were wide. The whites reflected the moonlight like shells on the beach on a hot day. "I guess." He stared at Buddy for a few seconds. Then, real fast, he asked, "Can I kiss you?"
He stared at the other boy, confused. "What?"
Duck looked nervous again. "Is-- Is that okay?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Why would you want to?"
Duck shrugged his bony shoulders. He squeezed his hands between his pulled up legs and stared down at his lap. "You want me to go?"
Buddy thought about sleeping all alone out here in the dark. He thought about going home and listening to his parents argue about whose fault it was that Buddy had run away in the first place. He shook his head again. "No."
Duck looked back up at him, his mouth pressed tight. Then he smiled, just a little, and said, "You... You want to try some other stuff then?"
"Okay."
***
Buddy gave Duck MacDonald flowers in front of City Hall when he was a junior in high school.
It was just a random bunch of colorful stuff that he'd picked in the woods. Some, he recognized from the natural history book his dad had given him when he was a kid -- violets, asters, and a single perfect lily -- and some, he just thought were pretty.
Duck was late, which wasn't too unusual, so Buddy was sprawled on the steps in the shade when he rode up on his battered old single-speed bike.
"Mademoiselle," Buddy said cheekily, holding out the flowers with a grand gesture.
Duck gave him a strange look as he took them. "What's all this junk for? I only need the lily." He sat down next to Buddy, though, and twirled the bunch of flowers between his long fingers.
"You don't have any sense of romance," Buddy admonished him, rolling his eyes. He twisted a bit to reach his back pocket and pulled out his flower dissection notes from botany last year. "Here."
"Geez. Don't just..." Duck looked around alertly for any teachers or grown-ups. He folded the notes and stuffed them in his jacket like they were plans for a nuclear submarine. Buddy chuckled and bumped Duck's knee with his own.
"You're the one who wanted to meet here."
Duck shrugged. "I'm hungry."
They each bought a hot dog from Frankendogs -- actually LeRoy's Franks & Dogs, but nobody called it that -- and scarfed them down standing outside. Then Buddy stepped onto the spindles on the back wheels of Duck's bike, and Duck pedaled them down the road toward the creek.
Duck's shoulders were warm, with only the thin layer of a T-shirt between them and Buddy's hands. He ran his thumbs around the edge of Duck's hairline at the nape of his neck, which he knew drew the other boy crazy. As soon as they got under the trees a bit, he leaned down enough to say in Duck's ear, "My stamen's ripe with pollen. You got a pistil ready for me?" Duck laughed, then cursed as the bike swerved a little.
They made it to their spot without any mishaps, Duck walking the bike the last hundred meters before throwing it on the grass and tackling Buddy's pants.
Afterward, Buddy was still floating when he heard Duck ask him, "Why'd you bring me flowers?"
"Huh?" He pried his eyes open and saw that Duck was sitting against a tree. He had the impromptu bouquet in his hand, looking wilted and worse the wear for having been in Duck's jacket pocket.
Buddy shrugged and got up on his elbows. "I thought it'd be funny. What's the matter? You don't like them?"
Duck frowned. With an irritated huff, he tossed the flowers away entirely, keeping only the lily, which he stowed back in his pocket. "I'm going home," he said abruptly, standing.
"Hey, wait. I'm sorry." Buddy scrambled to his feet to follow. He hovered as Duck righted his bike with rough movements, trying to gauge how his friend was feeling.
Duck didn't talk about it much, but Buddy knew Duck was into guys. He was sometimes a little sensitive about it, especially when Buddy did something stupid like treat him like a girl -- which he definitely wasn't. Buddy knew that. Duck wasn't so short anymore, and he'd won the rowing competition two years in a row. He wasn't like the twinks on TV who wore pink and spoke in ululating tones designed to make you laugh.
Tightening his hands on the handlebars, Duck finally raised his eyes to Buddy's. "I think we should stop."
"Stop what?"
Duck scowled. "What do you think?"
It honestly took Buddy a few seconds to figure it out. It seemed they'd been doing this forever. "What? Why?"
"Buddy, you're not gay."
"What's that got to do with it? We hang out, don't we?"
"Yeah, that's real generous of you. Let me know when you want to get me off for a change."
"What's that supposed to mean? Seems to me you're shooting off about the same as me."
"No thanks to you."
"You saying I don't pull my weight or something?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. Maybe I don't want to be your cocksucking assboy anymore."
Buddy flinched. "What?"
This time, it was Duck who looked away. "I didn't-- mean it that way."
"Obviously, you did," Buddy said, starting to get a little angry himself. He wasn't the one messing up the way things were. "I thought we were doing things the way we both liked it."
"I do like it. But..." Duck shoved his bike against a tree and turned to face him. "Buddy, be honest. Would you ever let me fuck you?"
The thought of it made him recoil instinctively. His reaction must have shown, because Duck just nodded.
"How about sucking me?"
"I..."
"Kissing?"
"We kiss," he said, defensively. They did. Sometimes. When Duck asked for it.
"I don't want your pity. Or curiosity, or whatever the hell you think this is. That was cool when we were kids, but it's not enough for me anymore." He looked off to the side, and when Buddy followed his gaze, he saw the bunch of flowers scattered where Duck had discarded them. We can't even tell people about us."
"Tell people?" Buddy repeated, startled by the idea. "It's not like we're dating or something."
The look on Duck's face... Shit. It wasn't even a little surprised, like Duck had known all along what Buddy would say. He just looked sad.
"I know we're not," Duck said. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
Buddy felt like the beach was eroding under his toes. He couldn't get a steady footing and he was watching everything he'd stood on rushing away from him. "Wait, we don't have to... I mean..."
"Buddy, somewhere there's a girl you're going to fall for. What am I going to do when that happens?"
He didn't have an answer for that. Duck was right. He couldn't imagine himself staying with Duck forever, and it wasn't fair to him. "So... So that's it, then?"
Duck scratched his fingers through his hair, making the short strands stick up every which way. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "I'm leaving Wilby, anyway. You won't miss me too much, right?" He attempted a smile.
But I will, he wanted to say. Breaking up with Sally hadn't felt this awful. Of course, he'd only dated her for two months. He'd known Duck for a lot longer than that. "Sure," he agreed.
"Okay, then. I guess I'll..." Duck pulled his bike up again. "You want a ride back?"
"No. Thanks. I'll walk."
"Thanks for the lily. And the notes."
"No problem."
"Bye, Buddy."
"Bye."
Buddy watched the other boy leave. Then he went down to the creek to try his luck at fishing.
Duck hadn't looked back even once.
***
Buddy held hands with Duck MacDonald in church the year before he started college.
He and his parents got to the ceremony only a few minutes before it would start, and he saw Duck and his folks at the end of a pew up front. "I'll sit over there," he said, gesturing vaguely. His dad frowned but his mum shrugged and let him go.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. MacDonald, Mrs. MacDonald. Mind if I sit here?"
Duck's parents smiled at him even as their son glared daggers. Buddy ignored that and squeezed in next to him.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered.
Duck grunted something back. He'd been avoiding Buddy since that day, and Buddy hated it. He didn't even care about the sex anymore. He just wanted his friend back.
"I heard you were leaving--"
"We're in fucking church, Buddy," Duck hissed.
Buddy sighed impatiently. "Way to swear then. You'll get God's attention for sure that way."
Duck scowled. He faced forward. "Yeah. I'm leaving this spring."
It wasn't entirely unexpected. Duck had talked about it for a long time before. But hearing the words from Duck was still like a punch in the gut. "You should stay. Finish high school."
Duck shook his head. "I'm leaving."
Buddy didn't know what else to say except, "I'm sorry."
"It's not because of you."
"I know. But..."
Buddy's parents had spent all of dinner two days ago discussing the MacDonalds' delinquent son, who wasn't making good enough grades to stay in school and so had to be shipped off to the mainland to earn a living. His parents obviously hadn't been hard enough on him when he was younger. It wasn't surprising the way Walter had turned out. That kind of kid grew up to drink and steal and get young girls pregnant-- Buddy had had to ask to be excused at that point.
"Don't miss me too much, okay?" Duck whispered. It was weird, but Buddy thought he really meant that.
"I won't," he replied.
Duck finally turned to smile at Buddy. "Promise?" His eyes said he knew that Buddy was full of shit.
Buddy laughed, suddenly glad at how Duck saw through him. "Send me a postcard."
"I will."
"Hey. Guess what my parents said about you?"
Father Max started the service just as Buddy finished telling him. Duck cursed him under his breath as he smothered laughter into his arm.
When they got to the part where they all held hands with their neighbors 'in love and friendship', Duck was the one who reached out first -- but Buddy was the one who held on until the last second.
***
***
Buddy found out Duck MacDonald was dating Dan Jarvis two days after the mainlander failed to hang himself and Buddy's wife Carol failed to sell his mum's house.
He and a group of cop friends were gathered at the Loyalist on a weekend when one of them mentioned it.
"Him and Dan?" Buddy leaned forward in surprise. "No kidding?" He tried to imagine Duck with the dour-faced owner of Jarvis Video and couldn't quite manage it. But hell, he hadn't ever really known what Duck wanted, had he?
"Yeah, can you believe it? I'd never have thought MacDonald for a pansy. You see him fight that deckhand a couple of years ago? The guy who was after Debra?"
"Sure. I won twenty dollars off of that."
"He smokes like a pro, too. And I'd kill for that truck he drives."
"What the hell does he see in that soppy mainlander?"
"What, you're jealous or something?"
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
"But seriously, if the handyman is gay, then who's safe, huh?"
There were nods of agreement all around the table, amid shifty exchanges of assessing looks. Nobody looked at Buddy with any more suspicion than anyone else. Buddy shook his head internally and smiled in amusement at the table of clueless men.
"As long as they're law-abiding and peaceful citizens, that's all we have to worry about," he said.
One of Buddy's friends laughed. "Yeah, I can name a few couples who have given us ten times more paperwork, even with the raid on the Watch and the damn suicide thrown in."
"Long as they don't break the law between eight at night and eight in the morning, they can fuck goats, for all I care," threw in another officer.
"I won't have to worry anymore about leaving Helen home alone when Duck's over for a job," someone else added. "Guess she's safe with him, right?"
"Hell, your wife's safe with anybody," was the immediate reply.
Raucous curses and laughter followed that, and with everyone jumping in with their opinions and one-up jibes, the oddities of other people were soon forgotten.
END.
If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:
Points In Common: Interlude (Wilby Wonderful), by kuonji
When One Door Closes (Wilby Wonderful), by Nicci
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Wilby Wonderful
Characters: Buddy French, Duck MacDonald, OCs
Pairings: Buddy/Duck, Carol/Buddy mentioned, Duck/Dan mentioned
Category: character study, relationship, pre-movie
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~3580
Summary: Duck was the one who reached out first -- but Buddy was the one who held on until the last second.
A/N: This is a remix of my story, Innocence. This one is for green_grrl, who said about that story, "Oh, those first sentences are heartbreakers, because they're not quite what they first seem!"
This Is Not A Love Story But A Story About Love (the Worldliness remix)
by kuonji
Buddy danced with Duck MacDonald in public when he was five years old.
It was the annual Harvest Play. Buddy got to be a carrot because he was tall for his age. Duck was one of three peas -- slightly misshapen on account of how he kept tripping in the costume. They skipped in a circle and sang something about peas and carrots being "Good for you, and yummy, too! They go-o-o together perfectly!"
Buddy didn't remember it very well, but his mum was always happy to pull out the pictures for guests.
***
Buddy kissed Duck MacDonald -- twice -- on the playground when he was in third grade.
Duck stayed over at Dennis's place after school just like Buddy did, so they were often forced to play with him even though he was a year younger and kind of a pain.
One day, Buddy won the coin flip, so he got to be Superman. Dennis was a Russian spy. He climbed up and down the jungle gym in the park behind his house, making shooting and bomb noises and cackling evilly while Buddy flew around the playground, swooshing and diving down to save innocent people from Dennis.
Duck complained and got in the way until they agreed to let him play.
"He can be Jimmy Olsen," Dennis decided.
"I don't want to be Jimmy," Duck whined. Everyone knew that Jimmy Olsen was only there to get in trouble so that Superman could save him.
"Fine, then you can be Lois Lane," Dennis said, giggling. "Hey, wait a minute." He ran over to his mum and came back with her flowery straw hat. The look on Duck's face was hilarious when Dennis plopped the hat on Duck's head. Buddy laughed so hard he had to sit down on the grass.
"I've got your girlfriend now, Superman! What are you going to do?" Dennis grabbed the shorter boy and cocked his thumb and forefinger at his head.
"I'm not Lois!" Duck shouted, struggling to get away, which was great, because it made him look even more like a hostage.
"I'll save you!" Buddy shouted. He swooped in and air-punched Dennis, who obligingly threw himself backward with a loud cry of, "Curse you, Superman! I'll get you yet!"
"I'm not Lois!" Duck repeated, his face scrunching up.
Buddy, caught up in the game, pulled Duck into his arms. "You're safe now," he said. Then he leaned in and planted a kiss right on the other boy's lips.
Duck yelled in disgust and squirmed away, scrubbing his lips fiercely. Dennis was rolling on the ground, holding his ribs. Buddy broke up laughing as well. Duck took the hat off and threw it at them. "I hate you!" he yelled, before turning and running off.
Buddy exchanged a worried look with Dennis.
Sure enough, a second later they heard Dennis's mum call out, "Boys! What's going on?"
Thinking fast, Buddy waved Dennis in the direction Duck had gone and yelled back, "Nothing! We're playing tag!" Dennis, no dummy, immediately took off running. Buddy chased him until they reached the sparse woods around the back of the playground.
"Where is he?" Dennis whispered, peering around.
"Split up," Buddy suggested. Dennis went left while Buddy went right. He poked around the bushes and called Duck's name softly.
Finally, he spotted a scrap of red -- the color of Duck's shirt -- around a tree. Relieved, he trotted over and knelt down next to the other boy.
Duck was curled up with his knees to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Was he crying? That would be hard to explain to Dennis's mum. Maybe they could tell her he fell down.
"Come on. Let's go back," he said, tugging on Duck's sleeve.
"I hate you," was the muffled reply. And he was crying. Buddy sat down next to him, unsure.
Now that he thought about it, he felt kind of bad. Duck was a pain, but maybe he couldn't help that. He was still little. Awkwardly, Buddy patted Duck's back. "Hey. I'm sorry. Okay?"
Duck lifted his head just enough to look over his arms. His eyes were watery and red. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Duck put his head back down. "I don't want to be Lois," he whined, his voice muffled again.
Buddy sighed, exasperated. "It was a joke, okay? You can be the bad guy next time. How about that?"
Duck lifted his head again. "Can I have the bandanna?"
Buddy was confused for a moment. Then he realized that the kid was getting Superman and Cowboys mixed up. "Yeah, sure."
Duck lowered his arms so he could glare at Buddy full on. "And you won't kiss me again?"
Buddy rolled his eyes. Then he leaned forward and pecked Duck on the cheek. Duck squealed and rolled backward. "I will if you don't get back there right now," Buddy threatened him.
Unexpectedly, Duck laughed. "You'd have to catch me," he said, scrambling to his feet and darting off. One thing for the kid, he was fast. Buddy could barely keep up.
Maybe they could run races next time, he thought. They could get Kevin from next door to play with them, and Buddy would pick Duck for his partner. He was sure they would win.
***
Buddy slept with Duck MacDonald in the woods during the summer between junior high and high school.
Duck found him by the creek while he was trying to catch one of the slippery trout. His stomach was growling and he was getting more and more frustrated. Jean Craighead George's My Side Of The Mountain had made it sound easy. Not to mention, Duck had always boasted about being able to catch a trout by himself, and Buddy was a year older than he was.
"Hey, Buddy."
He turned too fast and slipped on the rock. If Duck hadn't caught him, he might have fallen straight into the creek. And then he would have had to go home for sure.
It wasn't as if he were trying to hide, exactly, but he hadn't expected anyone to find him. Buddy was mostly left alone when he wandered off like this. Sometimes he wished he were brave enough to just hop a ferry and run away for real.
"What are you doing here?" he groused, as he stood up straight and brushed himself off.
"What are you?"
"I'm fishing. What does it look like?"
"Mind if I join you?"
Buddy started to say yes, but Duck added, "Bet you a dollar I get the first fish." That made it all right. So Buddy shrugged and said, as expected, "Bet you a dollar you won't."
It turned out Duck hadn't just been boasting. It took a while, but Duck caught a fish, and he cleaned it, too. Buddy built a fire, and they roasted it together. It was starting to burn on the outside and still a little raw on the inside when Buddy bit into it, but he was so hungry he didn't care.
"Are you going home tonight?" Duck asked him when they'd licked their fingers clean and the fish bones were popping in the fire.
"I'm not going home ever," was what he wanted to answer, but he only shrugged. "I've got my sleeping bag. It's warm out."
Duck nodded. "My dad said it was a good night for my first time camping alone."
Buddy frowned at him. "What?"
Duck pointed downstream. "I had a spot picked out before I went fishing. I can move my stuff over here if that's okay?"
"Sure."
So Duck went away for a few minutes and came back with a backpack and a bedroll that he laid out next to Buddy's sleeping bag. Even though it was only just starting to get dark, it seemed like there wasn't much else to do except go to sleep. They banked the fire and climbed into bed. Buddy turned over and looked at the other boy. Duck smiled back at him.
"Good night, Buddy."
"Good night."
He was glad Duck had found him.
Buddy woke up when he felt something in his hair, kind of... stroking it forward to back. He opened his eyes. It was still night, but the fire was glowing a bit, and the moon was pretty bright. He saw Duck was up on one elbow, his other hand touching Buddy's hair.
"What are you doing?"
Duck jerked his hand away. He looked scared. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay." When Duck rolled to a sitting position, Buddy sat up, too, and grabbed his arm. "I said, it's okay. But why were you doing that?"
"I-- I don't know." He looked away at the fire. "It looked soft."
Buddy touched his own hair. His mum said it was thick and handsome. Nobody had said it was 'soft' before. "Is it?" he asked.
Duck looked back at him. His eyes were wide. The whites reflected the moonlight like shells on the beach on a hot day. "I guess." He stared at Buddy for a few seconds. Then, real fast, he asked, "Can I kiss you?"
He stared at the other boy, confused. "What?"
Duck looked nervous again. "Is-- Is that okay?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Why would you want to?"
Duck shrugged his bony shoulders. He squeezed his hands between his pulled up legs and stared down at his lap. "You want me to go?"
Buddy thought about sleeping all alone out here in the dark. He thought about going home and listening to his parents argue about whose fault it was that Buddy had run away in the first place. He shook his head again. "No."
Duck looked back up at him, his mouth pressed tight. Then he smiled, just a little, and said, "You... You want to try some other stuff then?"
"Okay."
***
Buddy gave Duck MacDonald flowers in front of City Hall when he was a junior in high school.
It was just a random bunch of colorful stuff that he'd picked in the woods. Some, he recognized from the natural history book his dad had given him when he was a kid -- violets, asters, and a single perfect lily -- and some, he just thought were pretty.
Duck was late, which wasn't too unusual, so Buddy was sprawled on the steps in the shade when he rode up on his battered old single-speed bike.
"Mademoiselle," Buddy said cheekily, holding out the flowers with a grand gesture.
Duck gave him a strange look as he took them. "What's all this junk for? I only need the lily." He sat down next to Buddy, though, and twirled the bunch of flowers between his long fingers.
"You don't have any sense of romance," Buddy admonished him, rolling his eyes. He twisted a bit to reach his back pocket and pulled out his flower dissection notes from botany last year. "Here."
"Geez. Don't just..." Duck looked around alertly for any teachers or grown-ups. He folded the notes and stuffed them in his jacket like they were plans for a nuclear submarine. Buddy chuckled and bumped Duck's knee with his own.
"You're the one who wanted to meet here."
Duck shrugged. "I'm hungry."
They each bought a hot dog from Frankendogs -- actually LeRoy's Franks & Dogs, but nobody called it that -- and scarfed them down standing outside. Then Buddy stepped onto the spindles on the back wheels of Duck's bike, and Duck pedaled them down the road toward the creek.
Duck's shoulders were warm, with only the thin layer of a T-shirt between them and Buddy's hands. He ran his thumbs around the edge of Duck's hairline at the nape of his neck, which he knew drew the other boy crazy. As soon as they got under the trees a bit, he leaned down enough to say in Duck's ear, "My stamen's ripe with pollen. You got a pistil ready for me?" Duck laughed, then cursed as the bike swerved a little.
They made it to their spot without any mishaps, Duck walking the bike the last hundred meters before throwing it on the grass and tackling Buddy's pants.
Afterward, Buddy was still floating when he heard Duck ask him, "Why'd you bring me flowers?"
"Huh?" He pried his eyes open and saw that Duck was sitting against a tree. He had the impromptu bouquet in his hand, looking wilted and worse the wear for having been in Duck's jacket pocket.
Buddy shrugged and got up on his elbows. "I thought it'd be funny. What's the matter? You don't like them?"
Duck frowned. With an irritated huff, he tossed the flowers away entirely, keeping only the lily, which he stowed back in his pocket. "I'm going home," he said abruptly, standing.
"Hey, wait. I'm sorry." Buddy scrambled to his feet to follow. He hovered as Duck righted his bike with rough movements, trying to gauge how his friend was feeling.
Duck didn't talk about it much, but Buddy knew Duck was into guys. He was sometimes a little sensitive about it, especially when Buddy did something stupid like treat him like a girl -- which he definitely wasn't. Buddy knew that. Duck wasn't so short anymore, and he'd won the rowing competition two years in a row. He wasn't like the twinks on TV who wore pink and spoke in ululating tones designed to make you laugh.
Tightening his hands on the handlebars, Duck finally raised his eyes to Buddy's. "I think we should stop."
"Stop what?"
Duck scowled. "What do you think?"
It honestly took Buddy a few seconds to figure it out. It seemed they'd been doing this forever. "What? Why?"
"Buddy, you're not gay."
"What's that got to do with it? We hang out, don't we?"
"Yeah, that's real generous of you. Let me know when you want to get me off for a change."
"What's that supposed to mean? Seems to me you're shooting off about the same as me."
"No thanks to you."
"You saying I don't pull my weight or something?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. Maybe I don't want to be your cocksucking assboy anymore."
Buddy flinched. "What?"
This time, it was Duck who looked away. "I didn't-- mean it that way."
"Obviously, you did," Buddy said, starting to get a little angry himself. He wasn't the one messing up the way things were. "I thought we were doing things the way we both liked it."
"I do like it. But..." Duck shoved his bike against a tree and turned to face him. "Buddy, be honest. Would you ever let me fuck you?"
The thought of it made him recoil instinctively. His reaction must have shown, because Duck just nodded.
"How about sucking me?"
"I..."
"Kissing?"
"We kiss," he said, defensively. They did. Sometimes. When Duck asked for it.
"I don't want your pity. Or curiosity, or whatever the hell you think this is. That was cool when we were kids, but it's not enough for me anymore." He looked off to the side, and when Buddy followed his gaze, he saw the bunch of flowers scattered where Duck had discarded them. We can't even tell people about us."
"Tell people?" Buddy repeated, startled by the idea. "It's not like we're dating or something."
The look on Duck's face... Shit. It wasn't even a little surprised, like Duck had known all along what Buddy would say. He just looked sad.
"I know we're not," Duck said. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
Buddy felt like the beach was eroding under his toes. He couldn't get a steady footing and he was watching everything he'd stood on rushing away from him. "Wait, we don't have to... I mean..."
"Buddy, somewhere there's a girl you're going to fall for. What am I going to do when that happens?"
He didn't have an answer for that. Duck was right. He couldn't imagine himself staying with Duck forever, and it wasn't fair to him. "So... So that's it, then?"
Duck scratched his fingers through his hair, making the short strands stick up every which way. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "I'm leaving Wilby, anyway. You won't miss me too much, right?" He attempted a smile.
But I will, he wanted to say. Breaking up with Sally hadn't felt this awful. Of course, he'd only dated her for two months. He'd known Duck for a lot longer than that. "Sure," he agreed.
"Okay, then. I guess I'll..." Duck pulled his bike up again. "You want a ride back?"
"No. Thanks. I'll walk."
"Thanks for the lily. And the notes."
"No problem."
"Bye, Buddy."
"Bye."
Buddy watched the other boy leave. Then he went down to the creek to try his luck at fishing.
Duck hadn't looked back even once.
***
Buddy held hands with Duck MacDonald in church the year before he started college.
He and his parents got to the ceremony only a few minutes before it would start, and he saw Duck and his folks at the end of a pew up front. "I'll sit over there," he said, gesturing vaguely. His dad frowned but his mum shrugged and let him go.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. MacDonald, Mrs. MacDonald. Mind if I sit here?"
Duck's parents smiled at him even as their son glared daggers. Buddy ignored that and squeezed in next to him.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered.
Duck grunted something back. He'd been avoiding Buddy since that day, and Buddy hated it. He didn't even care about the sex anymore. He just wanted his friend back.
"I heard you were leaving--"
"We're in fucking church, Buddy," Duck hissed.
Buddy sighed impatiently. "Way to swear then. You'll get God's attention for sure that way."
Duck scowled. He faced forward. "Yeah. I'm leaving this spring."
It wasn't entirely unexpected. Duck had talked about it for a long time before. But hearing the words from Duck was still like a punch in the gut. "You should stay. Finish high school."
Duck shook his head. "I'm leaving."
Buddy didn't know what else to say except, "I'm sorry."
"It's not because of you."
"I know. But..."
Buddy's parents had spent all of dinner two days ago discussing the MacDonalds' delinquent son, who wasn't making good enough grades to stay in school and so had to be shipped off to the mainland to earn a living. His parents obviously hadn't been hard enough on him when he was younger. It wasn't surprising the way Walter had turned out. That kind of kid grew up to drink and steal and get young girls pregnant-- Buddy had had to ask to be excused at that point.
"Don't miss me too much, okay?" Duck whispered. It was weird, but Buddy thought he really meant that.
"I won't," he replied.
Duck finally turned to smile at Buddy. "Promise?" His eyes said he knew that Buddy was full of shit.
Buddy laughed, suddenly glad at how Duck saw through him. "Send me a postcard."
"I will."
"Hey. Guess what my parents said about you?"
Father Max started the service just as Buddy finished telling him. Duck cursed him under his breath as he smothered laughter into his arm.
When they got to the part where they all held hands with their neighbors 'in love and friendship', Duck was the one who reached out first -- but Buddy was the one who held on until the last second.
***
***
Buddy found out Duck MacDonald was dating Dan Jarvis two days after the mainlander failed to hang himself and Buddy's wife Carol failed to sell his mum's house.
He and a group of cop friends were gathered at the Loyalist on a weekend when one of them mentioned it.
"Him and Dan?" Buddy leaned forward in surprise. "No kidding?" He tried to imagine Duck with the dour-faced owner of Jarvis Video and couldn't quite manage it. But hell, he hadn't ever really known what Duck wanted, had he?
"Yeah, can you believe it? I'd never have thought MacDonald for a pansy. You see him fight that deckhand a couple of years ago? The guy who was after Debra?"
"Sure. I won twenty dollars off of that."
"He smokes like a pro, too. And I'd kill for that truck he drives."
"What the hell does he see in that soppy mainlander?"
"What, you're jealous or something?"
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
"But seriously, if the handyman is gay, then who's safe, huh?"
There were nods of agreement all around the table, amid shifty exchanges of assessing looks. Nobody looked at Buddy with any more suspicion than anyone else. Buddy shook his head internally and smiled in amusement at the table of clueless men.
"As long as they're law-abiding and peaceful citizens, that's all we have to worry about," he said.
One of Buddy's friends laughed. "Yeah, I can name a few couples who have given us ten times more paperwork, even with the raid on the Watch and the damn suicide thrown in."
"Long as they don't break the law between eight at night and eight in the morning, they can fuck goats, for all I care," threw in another officer.
"I won't have to worry anymore about leaving Helen home alone when Duck's over for a job," someone else added. "Guess she's safe with him, right?"
"Hell, your wife's safe with anybody," was the immediate reply.
Raucous curses and laughter followed that, and with everyone jumping in with their opinions and one-up jibes, the oddities of other people were soon forgotten.
END.
If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:
Points In Common: Interlude (Wilby Wonderful), by kuonji
When One Door Closes (Wilby Wonderful), by Nicci