A Walk in the Park
I haven't done this here before, but I don't have access to my website at the moment, so here goes. I also don't know how to do that cut id thing, so I'm just posting this fic in its entirety right on my journal. RL has been unkind to me lately, and I'll get my website updated as soon as I can. Meanwhile, enjoy.
Title: A WALK IN THE PARK
Author: Lady Grey
Feedback: Onlist or to lady.greysgate@gmail.com
Website: http://www.sgcsquared.com/
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/D, Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor
Category: Slash, Crossover (Queer as Folk-US)
Date: 2007
Status: WIP
Season/Spoilers: Any/None
Archive: Area 52, Alpha Gate. Anyone else, please ask.
Synopsis: Sometimes changing your life really is a walk in the park.
Jack POV.
Notes: Sometimes the stories just write themselves. This was one of them - jotted down in 2 days. Let’s see what Jude has to say about it. ;-)
W
A
R
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N
G
S
P
A
C
E
Smooshiness.
Disclaimer:
Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Film Corp. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. Jack and Daniel belong to each other. I am not making any money from this and I'm still paying for everything I own so there's very little point in suing me. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. The original characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me first if you want to archive or link to this story.
A WALK IN THE PARK
By Lady Grey
This injury was tougher for Daniel to recover from than a lot of others. Maybe it was the way it happened, and the fact that, this time, he didn’t save anybody, that still hurts him so much. It was the same old story - Goa’uld domination and Daniel’s personal mission to enlighten the transplanted human population to the fact that the snake-heads are false gods.
Some of ‘em bought it, including a handful of teenagers, full of spit and vinegar. They were going to come with us, but the top dog wasn’t real fond of that idea; he sent his goons to either bring us all back or see to it that we didn’t make it back at all. Daniel went down right in front of the ‘gate, hit with a trinium-tipped arrow, and every last one of the converts were killed before they could make it back to the base with us. Teal’c and Carter laid down cover fire long enough for me to carry Daniel back, and then we all high-tailed it home. Daniel didn’t take too well to watching those kids die. None of us did, but it hit him hardest. Each loss seems to take a larger toll on him, taking a little more of the light out of him with every defeat.
Whatever the reason, he’s quieter now, and I haven’t seen him smile in weeks.
That worries me.
I swear I can feel the effects of what happened eating at him, as if the darkness he carries around is gnawing at my own gut. I want to fix him, but I can’t; I don’t know what to say or do. Over the years I’ve watched him change from an innocent, idealistic kid into a hardened, skilled warrior. I suppose I’m chiefly responsible for what’s happened to him, and in my opinion, it doesn’t look good on him. All the missions we’ve been through have left scars, though there isn’t much permanent damage visible on his skin; the changes mostly exist on the inside, on his soul, like partially faded tracings of old whip marks. I miss the gleam I once saw in his eyes; they used to be so bright, shining with hope and faith in our mission objectives, but now they appear narrowed and suspicious, many days dull with hopelessness.
Today is one of those dull days.
Lately he’s made like everything is fine, pretending for the rest of us, so we won’t know how much he’s hurting. This trip to Pittsburgh was official business for both of us, but sharing a room was my idea, since he still needs looking after.
The doctor advised him to take frequent walks to help him heal after the surgery that saved his life, so we’re going for a walk, because Daniel needs the exercise. His cream-colored sweater is warm from his body heat and feels good beneath my hand as I give him a comforting little pat on the shoulder. It’s a little chilly out. There’s dampness in the autumn air that might mean rain a little later in the day. It’s nice, kind of gray and still, with a sense of something about to happen.
Winter’s on the way; that’s got to be it.
We’re in this park near our hotel because, as I said, Daniel needs the exercise. We’re in Pittsburg because we’re interviewing for new blood in the SGC academic department. The hotel is on Liberty Street, right in the middle of the most dangerous neighborhood for someone like me to be visiting, but I had no idea what to expect. I’ve never been here before, so how was I supposed to know the Liberty Street address had other connotations?
I don’t suppose it makes any difference now. We’re here, and I’m not putting Daniel through packing up and moving to another hotel just because we’re in the middle of Gay Central. If Uncle Sam doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself.
“How long?” asks Daniel quietly. His head is down, and it muffles his voice a little.
“Huh?” I touch his elbow and incline my head towards him in an effort to hear him better.
“I asked how long I have to walk,” Daniel reiterates without lifting his eyes from our path, but he’s louder now and enunciating better.
Makes me feel like I’m getting old, but then, so do the gray hairs that greet my morning glance in the mirror. It fits being a General, but makes me more aware how short my time is getting; that’s not something I want to ponder.
“Think you can do ten more minutes?” I ask him, concerned about the lines of anguish I see etched into his forehead and around his eyes. I think it’s more than a physical discomfort; in fact, I know it is. “You need something for the pain?” My hand is touching his back again, rubbing little circles between his shoulders like my mom used to do with me when I was a kid. I’d loved how that made me feel.
I hope it comforts Daniel, but I don’t think it’s enough.
“Nah. I’m fine.”
He knows I see through that line; don’t even know why he bothers saying it anymore.
We keep walking, my pace slow enough to match his, not pushing or hurrying him, just letting him set the speed and direction.
Up ahead, there are some children playing near a set of swings. I need the distraction, so I watch them. They’re little guys, two- and three-year-olds, running in circles and laughing themselves silly. I remember Charlie at that age, and find myself smiling.
One small boy with a wild mane of dark hair bolts from the pack, gleefully cackling as he runs down the small hill toward a park bench where a young couple sits. The father is tall, lean, dark-haired like his son. He’s obviously well to do, dressed to the nines in finely tailored clothes with a dark wool dress coat, leather gloves, nice shoes. His hair is cut in one of those devil-may-care tousled styles, a rakish fringe over his high forehead, neatly tapered in the back. Everything about him says “money” and “power.” He’s a good-looking guy, with a strong chin and jaw, and dark eyes filled with intensity, even when he smiles.
He lifts the tyke onto his lap and cuddles him, pulling the hood of the child’s jacket up over his head. They wrestle and laugh together, while Dad makes sure the kid’s coat will keep him warm; in seconds, the child is off again.
I glance at the blonde mom sitting beside the dad. Her face is in profile to me, and she’s holding a blanket-wrapped baby in her arms. Her hair reminds me of Carter’s on a good day, curling up just around her delicate, pretty face. Her nose and mouth are elegant, and her eyes gentle and slightly narrowed with the smile across her lips.
Only when she turns her head and looks directly at me…
Holy smokes, that’s not a mom… or even a woman… it’s a young man!
Whoa.
The father of the toddler is sitting with his arm around the shoulders of another guy, one who looks about ten years younger. They’re obviously a couple, sitting close in a way that screams intimacy, right out in public. The blond looks up from cooing at the baby in his arms and gives the other guy a gentle, loving kiss, then looks back at the baby with joy written all over him.
“Damn,” I whisper in wonder, unable to take my eyes off them.
“There’s nothing wrong with men loving each other,” Daniel states irritably, obviously having seen the same thing, “and they can parent just as well as any straight couple.”
I look over at Daniel, but he avoids meeting my eyes and parks his butt on the bench we were just passing. “I’m sitting down for a while,” he announces, his chin stubbornly set, brooking no arguments or cajoling on my part.
“Okay,” I agree unnecessarily. “Take a rest.”
I look over at the gay couple again. The blond guy is rocking the baby now, forward and back, tucking the pink blanket closer around the bundle in his arms. I almost smile, but then I notice that the dad has locked eyes with me, attempting to stare me down.
That one’s full of spit and vinegar, I think to myself; he’s got that ‘go to hell’ look down pat. He thinks I don’t approve.
I turn to glance at Daniel and find him looking down at the sidewalk again. He’s been doing that a lot during his convalescence. Hands jammed down his pockets, shoulders slumped, he looks defeated, as if he’s given up hope. As I said earlier, I’m afraid that’s mostly my doing. Me and my sarcasm, my pessimism - I’ve been slowly killing every positive thing inside Daniel for years.
I want to restore that hope, that faith he used to have, but I don’t know how. All my instincts tell me -
Well, I can’t listen to what my instincts tell me.
My gaze strays back to the gay couple. Big Daddy’s still staring at me, so I stare back, one hardass testing the turf of another. Seemingly oblivious to our pissing contest, Blondie lifts his head for another kiss, and this time it’s long and slow, with tongue, as Big Daddy’s arm pulls him in really close. Funny thing is, Big Daddy is still looking right at me, defying me to disapprove.
Maybe I’ve discovered a disadvantage to my semi-permanent scowl.
I stroll aimlessly another step or two toward them before I turn and put my back to them to regard Daniel.
He’s been looking, too.
The expression on his face is…
I don’t know. Kind of wistful for a moment, there, now fading into hopelessness.
He sighs and eyes the ground again. “You know, in all the great early civilizations - Greece, Rome, China, Japan,” he speaks quickly, as though expecting me to interrupt, but his voice is edged with that same wistfulness, “bisexuality was the norm. Men had relationships with other men out of preference. They married to have children, heirs, but they rarely gave up their male lovers.” He leans back and looks at the gay couple, and the pain in his eyes is real and raw.
I’m shocked-I mean, Daniel? Could it be that he wants… that?
I turn back to glance at the two men again. Big Daddy has forgotten me for the moment, making small talk with Blondie, smiling down into his face and then looking over at their toddler on the grass with the other kids. For a moment - a brief, impossible moment - I allow myself to imagine me in his shoes.
My throat closes up. My stomach tightens. Without a word of explanation to Daniel, I find myself walking down the concrete sidewalk toward them.
As I stop in front of their bench, the toddler comes running up to crash into his father’s knees. Big Daddy reaches down to try to pick him up, but before he can get a good grip, the kid is gone again. Toddlers are like that. I smile a little, remembering, only this time there’s a touch of sadness in it, too.
I miss Charlie.
“You’ve got a cute kid,” I say stupidly, unable to think of anything else to say.
Why the hell did I come over here, anyway?
Both men look up at me. Big Daddy has a chip on his shoulder, bigger than the one I had at that age. He’s a real piece of work, that one. “Yeah,” he challenges. “So?”
Blondie looks up at me, all rosy-cheeked with the chilly air, his blue eyes with a slight upward slant that makes him look… well… pretty. If guys can be pretty, this kid sure is. And his boyfriend is pretty damned hot, too, but in a more masculine, mature way. The blond’s expression is open and amiable, his eyes so much like Daniel’s, but darker, more of a sapphire color rather than Daniel’s light blue.
The younger man smiles a little, almost in apology, then turns to his companion and says, “Brian, be nice. He’s paying you a compliment.” Blondie’s grin widens. “And who knows, maybe he’s a talent scout looking for a child model. Gus does have the looks for it.” He glances back at me with a wink. He’s nothing like Daniel - at least, not the Daniel I know now. The youth is still innocent because he hasn’t seen all the death, tragedy, and loss that Daniel has.
These two men are yin and yang, I realize instantly. Just like another couple of guys I know.
Brian’s hand is rubbing Blondie’s arm now, up and down, gently, in a possessive way, claiming his territory. It’s just another of Big Daddy’s ‘fuck-you-if-you-don’t-like-it’ gestures, mixed in with a healthy dose of affection for his lover.
“No,” I tell them honestly, nodding toward the toddler. “I just used to have one of those. He reminds me of my son, when he was that age.”
Blondie looks up at me, still smiling. “Oh? How old is your son now?”
He’s just being conversational, I know, but it still hurts a little. “Charlie would have been 21 this November, if he’d lived.”
Everything changes then. Blondie’s smile vanishes, replaced by genuine concern. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly.
Brian looks away, but the challenge in his face is gone. He’s got walls up so my loss can’t touch him, but his partner is feeling it with me. Just like someone else I know, both of ‘em.
I stand there studying these two men, as different as day and night, a good ten years between them, and I wish, just for an instant… “You two are very lucky,” I tell them, and I mean it. “You have it all.”
Brian looks up at me now, curiosity glimmering in his hazel eyes. He cocks his head, studying me, trying to figure me out. He’s cagey-smart; I can see the wheels turning. He looks over at the next park bench, his gaze lingering on Daniel, who is still sitting slumped, staring at the ground between his boots. After a few moments, Brian slowly moves his eyes back to me. “You have good taste,” Brian tells me with a cold smile.
Now Blondie’s looking at Daniel, too. “You make a nice-looking couple,” he observes to me.
“We just work together,” I tell them both. “We’re not-- “
“Bullshit,” Brian interrupts, openly staring at me now. “You want a piece of that fine ass. Don’t blame you, either. I’ll bet he’d be hot in the sack.” He stands up slowly, toe to toe with me, invading my space. He’s trying to get me to back down, to deny what he’s just said. “Want me to check him out and give you a report, Grandpa?”
“You’re not his type,” I answer quietly, not taking the bait or giving an inch, even though he’s obviously pushing me for a reaction. He’s a fighter, just like me. Brian stands eye-to-eye with me, but he’s leaner than me, all legs and big eyes. I’ve got a good 30 pounds of solid muscle on him and, if it should come to that, I could grind him into the dirt with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back. Maybe Big Daddy can feel that, but he doesn’t care. He’s used to meeting life head-on, daring people to object, and from his attitude, it occurs to me that he’s used to winning those conflicts.
“Brian!” Blondie stands up and diplomatically presses the pink-blanketed infant into Brian’s arms.
“He really doesn’t mean anything,” the younger man tells me. “We just… we were talking about you two as you were walking up, and we both thought…” He shrugs and smiles, helpless in his honesty. “We thought you two had been a couple for a really long time. You just… had that look, you know? Like you could finish each other’s sentences.”
“We do,” I admit frankly, “but my friend…” I shrug. I can’t even say the word. That’s how deeply the military has left its mark on me. “He’s not…”
“What, queer?” challenges Brian. “A fag? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
I look down at the child in his arms, a beautiful dark haired, dark-eyed baby girl.
“You disapprove of this?” Brian asks, his eyes intense, daring me again.
I look right at him and shake my head without breaking eye contact. “Not in a million years.”
At that instant, I sense Daniel’s getting concerned, and I look over at him just as he stands up and takes a step toward us, worry in his eyes, etched deeply into his face.
“You boys take care,” I tell them. “Appreciate what you have, because there are a lot of other folks out here who would give their right arms to have what you do.” I turn to start walking back toward Daniel.
Blondie touches my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks.
I look into his eyes. Like blue crystals, full of compassion and understanding far beyond his twenty-something years. Like Daniel’s eyes, but too world-weary for someone his age. Wisdom, I know, comes from pain. This kid’s apparently seen his share of it. Maybe not compared to what Daniel’s been through, but the evidence is still there.
“Including you?” he asks softly.
I don’t have to say a word. Even though I’ve got my best General face on, somehow the boy knows. I just keep staring at him, waiting for… I don’t know what.
“You should tell him,” he advises.
“Tell me what?” asks Daniel, who has covered a lot of ground really fast for a man recovering from surgery. I guess he thought I was picking a fight with the gay guys and wanted to save my ass. “Is everything okay here?”
“Everything’s fine,” I insist, wishing it were.
Daniel extends his hand, first to the blonde, then to Brian, introducing himself as if these guys were an alien delegation. Already he’s slipping into peacemaker mode. He’s a pretty amazing guy.
Wish I could tell him that.
Wish I could tell him a lot of things.
“Pleased to meet you, Daniel,” says Blondie with perfect manners. “I’m Justin, and this is Brian.”
Daniel turns to me. “Are you ready to go, Jack?” He’s still trying to get me out of there and relax the tension he thought he saw from his vantage point on the other park bench.
Justin makes eye contact with his lover, something unspoken passing between them, and Brian looks me in the eye and smiles.
Justin looks at Daniel and grins broadly. “He’s in love with you,” he blurts, immediately throwing a wary glance my way.
Fuck. It’s a conspiracy. Before I can open my mouth to deny it, Brian’s head whips around to glare at his lover, adjusting the baby’s position on his shoulder. “No, I’m not,” he shoots back with mock irritation, eyeing his blond partner. “I just said he had a hot ass and offered to try it out for Jack, here, since he’s too chicken to do it himself.”
Smug little shits.
Justin grins and takes the baby girl back into his arms. “Pay no attention to Brian,” he advises merrily. He winks at Daniel. “You know what I meant.”
Brian’s looking me right in the eye now, daring me to argue what we all know is the truth.
How the hell did this happen, anyway? This was just supposed to be a walk in the park for Daniel’s health, and now it’s turned into an outing of a whole other kind. I don’t understand how total strangers can read something so clearly that I’ve gone to great lengths to hide from everyone who knows me intimately. Well, not exactly intimately, but like family.
I can hear myself swallow as I finally drag my scared-shitless gaze back to Daniel’s face. I’m not sure what I expect to see, but I don’t think it was that.
Daniel looks relieved, like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.
“You could tell two total strangers, but you couldn’t tell me?” Daniel inquires in that oh-so-soft voice with that smile that says, Wait’ll I get you behind closed doors, you bastard!
“I didn’t tell them anything, I swear!” I promise emphatically.
Suddenly, the love of my life is crestfallen. “Oh.”
I shove my hands into my pants pockets and shrug. The jig is up. These two have played me like a Steinway, and I might as well admit it. “They just knew.”
Those azure eyes that I have silently adored for so long lift again to meet mine, and the joy in them nearly knocks me down and takes my breath away. I reach around Daniel’s nape and let my hand rest there for a moment. Then I pull him close and kiss him, right on the mouth. I don’t care that we’re in a public place or that we have an audience three feet away. In fact, the audience is responsible for this in the first place.
Sweetest kiss in the world just landed on my lips.
Damn.
And it said a whole lot of important things in the space of a breath or two.
I turn back to our audience. Justin is grinning from ear to ear, and Brian looks for all the world like he’s bored stiff.
Somehow, I don’t think he is. I see a lot of myself in that kid, and a lot of Daniel in Justin. Maybe they’re who we might have been, in another life. Maybe we’re who those two are destined to be, growing old together and finishing each other’s sentences, personalities as different as night and day but needing each other to be complete.
And maybe I’m getting a little too philosophical in my old age, thinking of all this meaning-of-life crap when I ought to be taking Daniel to bed and finding all sorts of ways for us to come all over each other until we’re both limp and stupid.
I look at Daniel. “So. Hotel?”
“Race you back,” he answers with a blissful grin.
Can’t wait to see what he looks like freshly fucked.
We turn and start to walk away.
“Oh, boys,” Brian calls.
We look back in perfectly choreographed synchronization.
He holds up two fingers. “Condoms-“
“-And lube,” Justin finishes for him.
“Thanks,” Daniel calls, giving them a little wave.
We start back to the hotel without a backward glance. Daniel’s head is up. He’s smiling. He’s walking pretty damn fast, too. All of the care, the burden he had been carrying on our way into the park, seems to be suddenly gone.
Was that what had been eating away at Daniel?
Me? He wanted me?
Wow.
We gotta learn to talk to each other.
Then again, we’ve always seemed to do better with nonverbal communication. And I think we’re about to learn a whole new vocabulary, as far as that goes.
“You’re not gonna retire, are you?” he asks me, concern now creeping into his eyes as we duck into a drugstore across the street from the hotel.
“Hadn’t thought about it. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Back out on the street corner a few minutes later, we wait for our chance to cross. I want to grab his hand and run to beat the traffic, but I’m not sure he’s up to that yet. I’ll have to be gentle with him, since he’s still healing, but that’s okay. I can do gentle.
Daniel bumps my shoulder with his, smiling into my face. “Don’t look so serious,” he advises. “It’ll be a walk in the park.” He gives me a wink, as if he’s been reading my mind all along, and then dashes across the street just as the pedestrian symbol flashes, saying we can go.
A walk in the park, indeed.
He has no idea.
FINIS
Title: A WALK IN THE PARK
Author: Lady Grey
Feedback: Onlist or to lady.greysgate@gmail.com
Website: http://www.sgcsquared.com/
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/D, Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor
Category: Slash, Crossover (Queer as Folk-US)
Date: 2007
Status: WIP
Season/Spoilers: Any/None
Archive: Area 52, Alpha Gate. Anyone else, please ask.
Synopsis: Sometimes changing your life really is a walk in the park.
Jack POV.
Notes: Sometimes the stories just write themselves. This was one of them - jotted down in 2 days. Let’s see what Jude has to say about it. ;-)
W
A
R
N
I
N
G
S
P
A
C
E
Smooshiness.
Disclaimer:
Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Film Corp. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. Jack and Daniel belong to each other. I am not making any money from this and I'm still paying for everything I own so there's very little point in suing me. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. The original characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me first if you want to archive or link to this story.
A WALK IN THE PARK
By Lady Grey
This injury was tougher for Daniel to recover from than a lot of others. Maybe it was the way it happened, and the fact that, this time, he didn’t save anybody, that still hurts him so much. It was the same old story - Goa’uld domination and Daniel’s personal mission to enlighten the transplanted human population to the fact that the snake-heads are false gods.
Some of ‘em bought it, including a handful of teenagers, full of spit and vinegar. They were going to come with us, but the top dog wasn’t real fond of that idea; he sent his goons to either bring us all back or see to it that we didn’t make it back at all. Daniel went down right in front of the ‘gate, hit with a trinium-tipped arrow, and every last one of the converts were killed before they could make it back to the base with us. Teal’c and Carter laid down cover fire long enough for me to carry Daniel back, and then we all high-tailed it home. Daniel didn’t take too well to watching those kids die. None of us did, but it hit him hardest. Each loss seems to take a larger toll on him, taking a little more of the light out of him with every defeat.
Whatever the reason, he’s quieter now, and I haven’t seen him smile in weeks.
That worries me.
I swear I can feel the effects of what happened eating at him, as if the darkness he carries around is gnawing at my own gut. I want to fix him, but I can’t; I don’t know what to say or do. Over the years I’ve watched him change from an innocent, idealistic kid into a hardened, skilled warrior. I suppose I’m chiefly responsible for what’s happened to him, and in my opinion, it doesn’t look good on him. All the missions we’ve been through have left scars, though there isn’t much permanent damage visible on his skin; the changes mostly exist on the inside, on his soul, like partially faded tracings of old whip marks. I miss the gleam I once saw in his eyes; they used to be so bright, shining with hope and faith in our mission objectives, but now they appear narrowed and suspicious, many days dull with hopelessness.
Today is one of those dull days.
Lately he’s made like everything is fine, pretending for the rest of us, so we won’t know how much he’s hurting. This trip to Pittsburgh was official business for both of us, but sharing a room was my idea, since he still needs looking after.
The doctor advised him to take frequent walks to help him heal after the surgery that saved his life, so we’re going for a walk, because Daniel needs the exercise. His cream-colored sweater is warm from his body heat and feels good beneath my hand as I give him a comforting little pat on the shoulder. It’s a little chilly out. There’s dampness in the autumn air that might mean rain a little later in the day. It’s nice, kind of gray and still, with a sense of something about to happen.
Winter’s on the way; that’s got to be it.
We’re in this park near our hotel because, as I said, Daniel needs the exercise. We’re in Pittsburg because we’re interviewing for new blood in the SGC academic department. The hotel is on Liberty Street, right in the middle of the most dangerous neighborhood for someone like me to be visiting, but I had no idea what to expect. I’ve never been here before, so how was I supposed to know the Liberty Street address had other connotations?
I don’t suppose it makes any difference now. We’re here, and I’m not putting Daniel through packing up and moving to another hotel just because we’re in the middle of Gay Central. If Uncle Sam doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself.
“How long?” asks Daniel quietly. His head is down, and it muffles his voice a little.
“Huh?” I touch his elbow and incline my head towards him in an effort to hear him better.
“I asked how long I have to walk,” Daniel reiterates without lifting his eyes from our path, but he’s louder now and enunciating better.
Makes me feel like I’m getting old, but then, so do the gray hairs that greet my morning glance in the mirror. It fits being a General, but makes me more aware how short my time is getting; that’s not something I want to ponder.
“Think you can do ten more minutes?” I ask him, concerned about the lines of anguish I see etched into his forehead and around his eyes. I think it’s more than a physical discomfort; in fact, I know it is. “You need something for the pain?” My hand is touching his back again, rubbing little circles between his shoulders like my mom used to do with me when I was a kid. I’d loved how that made me feel.
I hope it comforts Daniel, but I don’t think it’s enough.
“Nah. I’m fine.”
He knows I see through that line; don’t even know why he bothers saying it anymore.
We keep walking, my pace slow enough to match his, not pushing or hurrying him, just letting him set the speed and direction.
Up ahead, there are some children playing near a set of swings. I need the distraction, so I watch them. They’re little guys, two- and three-year-olds, running in circles and laughing themselves silly. I remember Charlie at that age, and find myself smiling.
One small boy with a wild mane of dark hair bolts from the pack, gleefully cackling as he runs down the small hill toward a park bench where a young couple sits. The father is tall, lean, dark-haired like his son. He’s obviously well to do, dressed to the nines in finely tailored clothes with a dark wool dress coat, leather gloves, nice shoes. His hair is cut in one of those devil-may-care tousled styles, a rakish fringe over his high forehead, neatly tapered in the back. Everything about him says “money” and “power.” He’s a good-looking guy, with a strong chin and jaw, and dark eyes filled with intensity, even when he smiles.
He lifts the tyke onto his lap and cuddles him, pulling the hood of the child’s jacket up over his head. They wrestle and laugh together, while Dad makes sure the kid’s coat will keep him warm; in seconds, the child is off again.
I glance at the blonde mom sitting beside the dad. Her face is in profile to me, and she’s holding a blanket-wrapped baby in her arms. Her hair reminds me of Carter’s on a good day, curling up just around her delicate, pretty face. Her nose and mouth are elegant, and her eyes gentle and slightly narrowed with the smile across her lips.
Only when she turns her head and looks directly at me…
Holy smokes, that’s not a mom… or even a woman… it’s a young man!
Whoa.
The father of the toddler is sitting with his arm around the shoulders of another guy, one who looks about ten years younger. They’re obviously a couple, sitting close in a way that screams intimacy, right out in public. The blond looks up from cooing at the baby in his arms and gives the other guy a gentle, loving kiss, then looks back at the baby with joy written all over him.
“Damn,” I whisper in wonder, unable to take my eyes off them.
“There’s nothing wrong with men loving each other,” Daniel states irritably, obviously having seen the same thing, “and they can parent just as well as any straight couple.”
I look over at Daniel, but he avoids meeting my eyes and parks his butt on the bench we were just passing. “I’m sitting down for a while,” he announces, his chin stubbornly set, brooking no arguments or cajoling on my part.
“Okay,” I agree unnecessarily. “Take a rest.”
I look over at the gay couple again. The blond guy is rocking the baby now, forward and back, tucking the pink blanket closer around the bundle in his arms. I almost smile, but then I notice that the dad has locked eyes with me, attempting to stare me down.
That one’s full of spit and vinegar, I think to myself; he’s got that ‘go to hell’ look down pat. He thinks I don’t approve.
I turn to glance at Daniel and find him looking down at the sidewalk again. He’s been doing that a lot during his convalescence. Hands jammed down his pockets, shoulders slumped, he looks defeated, as if he’s given up hope. As I said earlier, I’m afraid that’s mostly my doing. Me and my sarcasm, my pessimism - I’ve been slowly killing every positive thing inside Daniel for years.
I want to restore that hope, that faith he used to have, but I don’t know how. All my instincts tell me -
Well, I can’t listen to what my instincts tell me.
My gaze strays back to the gay couple. Big Daddy’s still staring at me, so I stare back, one hardass testing the turf of another. Seemingly oblivious to our pissing contest, Blondie lifts his head for another kiss, and this time it’s long and slow, with tongue, as Big Daddy’s arm pulls him in really close. Funny thing is, Big Daddy is still looking right at me, defying me to disapprove.
Maybe I’ve discovered a disadvantage to my semi-permanent scowl.
I stroll aimlessly another step or two toward them before I turn and put my back to them to regard Daniel.
He’s been looking, too.
The expression on his face is…
I don’t know. Kind of wistful for a moment, there, now fading into hopelessness.
He sighs and eyes the ground again. “You know, in all the great early civilizations - Greece, Rome, China, Japan,” he speaks quickly, as though expecting me to interrupt, but his voice is edged with that same wistfulness, “bisexuality was the norm. Men had relationships with other men out of preference. They married to have children, heirs, but they rarely gave up their male lovers.” He leans back and looks at the gay couple, and the pain in his eyes is real and raw.
I’m shocked-I mean, Daniel? Could it be that he wants… that?
I turn back to glance at the two men again. Big Daddy has forgotten me for the moment, making small talk with Blondie, smiling down into his face and then looking over at their toddler on the grass with the other kids. For a moment - a brief, impossible moment - I allow myself to imagine me in his shoes.
My throat closes up. My stomach tightens. Without a word of explanation to Daniel, I find myself walking down the concrete sidewalk toward them.
As I stop in front of their bench, the toddler comes running up to crash into his father’s knees. Big Daddy reaches down to try to pick him up, but before he can get a good grip, the kid is gone again. Toddlers are like that. I smile a little, remembering, only this time there’s a touch of sadness in it, too.
I miss Charlie.
“You’ve got a cute kid,” I say stupidly, unable to think of anything else to say.
Why the hell did I come over here, anyway?
Both men look up at me. Big Daddy has a chip on his shoulder, bigger than the one I had at that age. He’s a real piece of work, that one. “Yeah,” he challenges. “So?”
Blondie looks up at me, all rosy-cheeked with the chilly air, his blue eyes with a slight upward slant that makes him look… well… pretty. If guys can be pretty, this kid sure is. And his boyfriend is pretty damned hot, too, but in a more masculine, mature way. The blond’s expression is open and amiable, his eyes so much like Daniel’s, but darker, more of a sapphire color rather than Daniel’s light blue.
The younger man smiles a little, almost in apology, then turns to his companion and says, “Brian, be nice. He’s paying you a compliment.” Blondie’s grin widens. “And who knows, maybe he’s a talent scout looking for a child model. Gus does have the looks for it.” He glances back at me with a wink. He’s nothing like Daniel - at least, not the Daniel I know now. The youth is still innocent because he hasn’t seen all the death, tragedy, and loss that Daniel has.
These two men are yin and yang, I realize instantly. Just like another couple of guys I know.
Brian’s hand is rubbing Blondie’s arm now, up and down, gently, in a possessive way, claiming his territory. It’s just another of Big Daddy’s ‘fuck-you-if-you-don’t-like-it’ gestures, mixed in with a healthy dose of affection for his lover.
“No,” I tell them honestly, nodding toward the toddler. “I just used to have one of those. He reminds me of my son, when he was that age.”
Blondie looks up at me, still smiling. “Oh? How old is your son now?”
He’s just being conversational, I know, but it still hurts a little. “Charlie would have been 21 this November, if he’d lived.”
Everything changes then. Blondie’s smile vanishes, replaced by genuine concern. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly.
Brian looks away, but the challenge in his face is gone. He’s got walls up so my loss can’t touch him, but his partner is feeling it with me. Just like someone else I know, both of ‘em.
I stand there studying these two men, as different as day and night, a good ten years between them, and I wish, just for an instant… “You two are very lucky,” I tell them, and I mean it. “You have it all.”
Brian looks up at me now, curiosity glimmering in his hazel eyes. He cocks his head, studying me, trying to figure me out. He’s cagey-smart; I can see the wheels turning. He looks over at the next park bench, his gaze lingering on Daniel, who is still sitting slumped, staring at the ground between his boots. After a few moments, Brian slowly moves his eyes back to me. “You have good taste,” Brian tells me with a cold smile.
Now Blondie’s looking at Daniel, too. “You make a nice-looking couple,” he observes to me.
“We just work together,” I tell them both. “We’re not-- “
“Bullshit,” Brian interrupts, openly staring at me now. “You want a piece of that fine ass. Don’t blame you, either. I’ll bet he’d be hot in the sack.” He stands up slowly, toe to toe with me, invading my space. He’s trying to get me to back down, to deny what he’s just said. “Want me to check him out and give you a report, Grandpa?”
“You’re not his type,” I answer quietly, not taking the bait or giving an inch, even though he’s obviously pushing me for a reaction. He’s a fighter, just like me. Brian stands eye-to-eye with me, but he’s leaner than me, all legs and big eyes. I’ve got a good 30 pounds of solid muscle on him and, if it should come to that, I could grind him into the dirt with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back. Maybe Big Daddy can feel that, but he doesn’t care. He’s used to meeting life head-on, daring people to object, and from his attitude, it occurs to me that he’s used to winning those conflicts.
“Brian!” Blondie stands up and diplomatically presses the pink-blanketed infant into Brian’s arms.
“He really doesn’t mean anything,” the younger man tells me. “We just… we were talking about you two as you were walking up, and we both thought…” He shrugs and smiles, helpless in his honesty. “We thought you two had been a couple for a really long time. You just… had that look, you know? Like you could finish each other’s sentences.”
“We do,” I admit frankly, “but my friend…” I shrug. I can’t even say the word. That’s how deeply the military has left its mark on me. “He’s not…”
“What, queer?” challenges Brian. “A fag? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
I look down at the child in his arms, a beautiful dark haired, dark-eyed baby girl.
“You disapprove of this?” Brian asks, his eyes intense, daring me again.
I look right at him and shake my head without breaking eye contact. “Not in a million years.”
At that instant, I sense Daniel’s getting concerned, and I look over at him just as he stands up and takes a step toward us, worry in his eyes, etched deeply into his face.
“You boys take care,” I tell them. “Appreciate what you have, because there are a lot of other folks out here who would give their right arms to have what you do.” I turn to start walking back toward Daniel.
Blondie touches my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks.
I look into his eyes. Like blue crystals, full of compassion and understanding far beyond his twenty-something years. Like Daniel’s eyes, but too world-weary for someone his age. Wisdom, I know, comes from pain. This kid’s apparently seen his share of it. Maybe not compared to what Daniel’s been through, but the evidence is still there.
“Including you?” he asks softly.
I don’t have to say a word. Even though I’ve got my best General face on, somehow the boy knows. I just keep staring at him, waiting for… I don’t know what.
“You should tell him,” he advises.
“Tell me what?” asks Daniel, who has covered a lot of ground really fast for a man recovering from surgery. I guess he thought I was picking a fight with the gay guys and wanted to save my ass. “Is everything okay here?”
“Everything’s fine,” I insist, wishing it were.
Daniel extends his hand, first to the blonde, then to Brian, introducing himself as if these guys were an alien delegation. Already he’s slipping into peacemaker mode. He’s a pretty amazing guy.
Wish I could tell him that.
Wish I could tell him a lot of things.
“Pleased to meet you, Daniel,” says Blondie with perfect manners. “I’m Justin, and this is Brian.”
Daniel turns to me. “Are you ready to go, Jack?” He’s still trying to get me out of there and relax the tension he thought he saw from his vantage point on the other park bench.
Justin makes eye contact with his lover, something unspoken passing between them, and Brian looks me in the eye and smiles.
Justin looks at Daniel and grins broadly. “He’s in love with you,” he blurts, immediately throwing a wary glance my way.
Fuck. It’s a conspiracy. Before I can open my mouth to deny it, Brian’s head whips around to glare at his lover, adjusting the baby’s position on his shoulder. “No, I’m not,” he shoots back with mock irritation, eyeing his blond partner. “I just said he had a hot ass and offered to try it out for Jack, here, since he’s too chicken to do it himself.”
Smug little shits.
Justin grins and takes the baby girl back into his arms. “Pay no attention to Brian,” he advises merrily. He winks at Daniel. “You know what I meant.”
Brian’s looking me right in the eye now, daring me to argue what we all know is the truth.
How the hell did this happen, anyway? This was just supposed to be a walk in the park for Daniel’s health, and now it’s turned into an outing of a whole other kind. I don’t understand how total strangers can read something so clearly that I’ve gone to great lengths to hide from everyone who knows me intimately. Well, not exactly intimately, but like family.
I can hear myself swallow as I finally drag my scared-shitless gaze back to Daniel’s face. I’m not sure what I expect to see, but I don’t think it was that.
Daniel looks relieved, like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.
“You could tell two total strangers, but you couldn’t tell me?” Daniel inquires in that oh-so-soft voice with that smile that says, Wait’ll I get you behind closed doors, you bastard!
“I didn’t tell them anything, I swear!” I promise emphatically.
Suddenly, the love of my life is crestfallen. “Oh.”
I shove my hands into my pants pockets and shrug. The jig is up. These two have played me like a Steinway, and I might as well admit it. “They just knew.”
Those azure eyes that I have silently adored for so long lift again to meet mine, and the joy in them nearly knocks me down and takes my breath away. I reach around Daniel’s nape and let my hand rest there for a moment. Then I pull him close and kiss him, right on the mouth. I don’t care that we’re in a public place or that we have an audience three feet away. In fact, the audience is responsible for this in the first place.
Sweetest kiss in the world just landed on my lips.
Damn.
And it said a whole lot of important things in the space of a breath or two.
I turn back to our audience. Justin is grinning from ear to ear, and Brian looks for all the world like he’s bored stiff.
Somehow, I don’t think he is. I see a lot of myself in that kid, and a lot of Daniel in Justin. Maybe they’re who we might have been, in another life. Maybe we’re who those two are destined to be, growing old together and finishing each other’s sentences, personalities as different as night and day but needing each other to be complete.
And maybe I’m getting a little too philosophical in my old age, thinking of all this meaning-of-life crap when I ought to be taking Daniel to bed and finding all sorts of ways for us to come all over each other until we’re both limp and stupid.
I look at Daniel. “So. Hotel?”
“Race you back,” he answers with a blissful grin.
Can’t wait to see what he looks like freshly fucked.
We turn and start to walk away.
“Oh, boys,” Brian calls.
We look back in perfectly choreographed synchronization.
He holds up two fingers. “Condoms-“
“-And lube,” Justin finishes for him.
“Thanks,” Daniel calls, giving them a little wave.
We start back to the hotel without a backward glance. Daniel’s head is up. He’s smiling. He’s walking pretty damn fast, too. All of the care, the burden he had been carrying on our way into the park, seems to be suddenly gone.
Was that what had been eating away at Daniel?
Me? He wanted me?
Wow.
We gotta learn to talk to each other.
Then again, we’ve always seemed to do better with nonverbal communication. And I think we’re about to learn a whole new vocabulary, as far as that goes.
“You’re not gonna retire, are you?” he asks me, concern now creeping into his eyes as we duck into a drugstore across the street from the hotel.
“Hadn’t thought about it. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Back out on the street corner a few minutes later, we wait for our chance to cross. I want to grab his hand and run to beat the traffic, but I’m not sure he’s up to that yet. I’ll have to be gentle with him, since he’s still healing, but that’s okay. I can do gentle.
Daniel bumps my shoulder with his, smiling into my face. “Don’t look so serious,” he advises. “It’ll be a walk in the park.” He gives me a wink, as if he’s been reading my mind all along, and then dashes across the street just as the pedestrian symbol flashes, saying we can go.
A walk in the park, indeed.
He has no idea.
FINIS