Fic: Cornflower Blue
Title: Cornflower Blue
Fandom Donald Strachey Mysteries, movieverse
Rating and word count: NC-17, precisely 8,999 words
Spoilers: For "Shock to the System" and one stolen line from "Death Trick"
Disclaimer: Don and Timmy belong to Richard Stevenson.
A/N: Thanks goes to nyteflyer for the beta, for helping me fix the train wreck that was my original ending and for encouraging me to post this. I wasn't going to, since it's so different from everything I've done. But stretching one's wings is a good thing, I think.
Cornflower Blue
At 16, Don still possessed his virginity. The other guys laughed about it, called him a fag, but it was all in good fun. Sooner or later, they said, some slut will pop your cherry and it’ll be over with - done, finished - and you’ll wonder why the hell you waited so long.
By the time he was 17, they were giving him funny looks. Maybe you are a fag, they said. They tried to set him up with girls everyone knew would put out for anyone. But Don made sure he was busy - he had to help his dad paint the house, put brakes on his mother’s car, mow his grandmother’s lawn - but he soon ran out of excuses.
One day, they were razzing him outside the locker room, telling him he must be a fag if he didn’t meet that new girl under the bleachers and let her have it. She was out there right now, they’d gone to a lot of trouble to make it happen, what the fuck was he waiting for? Christmas?
“He’s waiting for me, and I’ll thank you fuckers to watch your mouths.”
Don and his friends turned around, their jaws dropping in collective amazement. It was Julie - unattainable, untouchable, beautiful Julie. The girl every guy dreamed about and knew he could never have. She was here for Donald Strachey? Runty little Donald Strachey?
“Close your mouths before you catch flies.” She tucked her hand in the crook of Donald’s arm. “Let’s go, Donny.”
Nobody made a sound as Don and Julie walked away, arm in arm, down the hall and through the double doors to the parking lot. Don had no idea what to say. But that turned out to be all right, because she said everything for him.
“We have six months until graduation. Then three months of summer and we’re off to college.”
He nodded, his mouth dry.
“Let’s spend them together.”
Why, he wanted to ask. She read his mind instead.
“Because we need each other.”
They drove away in Julie’s car, a vintage Chevy Nova. “We’ll go to my house. My parents won’t be home until seven.”
His voice returned. “And do what?”
“We’ll know when we get there.”
Julie had a big, beautiful house, nothing like his family’s one-story bungalow. Terrified and sweating so much he knew he must stink, Don followed Julie to her bedroom. It was a nice room, much bigger than his, and just as messy. For some reason, that made him feel better.
She sat down on the bed, watching him. He remained standing, watching her in turn.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
His jaw dropped. “Me? You?”
She smiled. “You sound like Tarzan.”
He didn’t return the smile. His heart was pounding, his head aching. He didn’t want to have sex with her. Not ever. Not with any girl. There was no way he could tell her that. She’d tell everyone. If he turned her down then everyone would know.
“I thought not.” She patted the space beside her. “And that’s good, because I don’t want to have sex with you, either. At least, not right now.”
Don’s relief was so great that his knees buckled and he slipped to the floor. Julie was beside him in an instant. She put her arm around his shoulders, but she didn’t say anything. When he finally drew an easy breath, she got up and sat back on the bed. This time, Don sat beside her.
“I know you,” she said. “And if you think about it long enough, you’ll realize you know me, too. As far as I can tell, we’re the only ones. So we have to stick together.”
Don stared at her. It was a trick, a trick to get him to voice a thought he’d never said aloud. She was trying to get at his secret so she could tell it at school and ruin him.
She stared back. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that matched the cornflowers in his mother’s garden, were wet and bright. Her chin wobbled, but she didn’t cry. Just like he didn’t cry. He never cried. Julie, he suspected, never did, either.
He nodded. So did she.
“You want to make popcorn and watch a movie?”
“OK.”
“Have you seen “Baby Jane? It’s one of my favorites.”
Don shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything.”
Julie got up, smoothing her skirt. “Good, because I have a million videos. We’ll have plenty to keep us busy.”
Don and Julie became “an item.” She picked him up for school, they ate lunch together and spent Friday and Saturday nights at each other’s houses. They made what Julie called “public appearances” at basketball games, McDonald’s and the school carnival. They went to the prom together, and by only one vote missed being crowned king and queen.
The boys stopping razzing Don. Instead, they asked dirty, jealous questions, like did Julie put out? Does she suck your cock? Do you suck her tits?
When Don had had enough of them talking about his best friend that way, he punched the biggest guy in the jaw. The questions stopped.
After graduation, they both got summer jobs, but they spent all their spare time together, making guarded plans for a new chapter in their lives. Julie was happy to be going off to college, and so was Don until he overheard his parents one night. Money was tighter than they expected it to be; they had no idea how they were going to send Don to school.
So he told Julie he wasn’t going. He said he didn’t want to, and she called him a liar. So he told her the truth. She held him tight and he held her back, falling in love with her just a little and wondering how it would feel when he fell in love for real.
He sat his parents down a few nights later and told them he wanted to join the Army, to see a little bit of the world before he had to settle down and go to college. For now, he was tired of school and thought it would be better to wait.
His mother cried. His father made an odd noise and left the room. But in the end, they agreed that it was his life and his decision. He called Julie the next morning and told her his plan. She yelled at him and called him an idiot, then asked if she could drive him to the recruiting office.
She picked him up in her Nova and held his hand all the way there. She went in with him to make it look good, sitting in the waiting room, reading military magazines while he interviewed and signed the papers. She even shook hands with the recruiter and told him she’d be waiting for Don when he got out. The recruiter smiled and nodded as if to say, yes, that’s what a good girlfriend does.
After that, they stopped making “public appearances.” Don was nervous about the Army, scared they’d find out about him. Julie didn’t talk about college, and Don knew it was because she didn’t want him to be more disappointed than he already was. They had so little time left, and Don wanted to enjoy it, not waste it on things that didn’t matter.
One night, Julie said she wanted to have sex, just once, just to know what it was like. Wouldn’t he like to make love, too?
Yes, but it might ruin everything, Don told her. You’re my best friend, my only real friend. If I don’t have you, I don’t have anyone.
She kissed his cheek and said, if anything, they would both be stronger for it. She didn’t trust anyone else with something so important, and didn’t he feel the same? When he said that he did, she said she knew he would. Julie led him upstairs to her room and showed him the box of condoms she’d bought just in case he said yes.
They spent a long time learning how and where to kiss. Don had never known how good it felt to kiss another person’s neck, to feel her heart beating against his lips. Her teeth on his earlobe made his toes curl, her mouth on his cheek made the air rush from his lungs.
He didn’t think he could get hard with a girl, but Julie made it so easy. She didn’t act shy and weird, nor did she expect him to lead them both to a place he’d never been. She smelled good, not sweet and flowery like the other girls, but like the grass, the leaves and the air on a rainy day. She had strong, brave hands that held him close, close enough that he could feel her nipples against his chest, even through the blue sweater that matched her eyes.
Let’s take our clothes off, let’s look at each other, and maybe we won’t be the way we are, she whispered in his ear. Although he knew it wouldn’t really work, Don liked the idea; anything was better than this terrible war he fought with himself, day and night, a battle that drove him crazy with unfulfilled desire. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then sat up to take off her own sweater.
Let me, he whispered. He took hold of the hem and gently helped pull her arms free, then watched as she tugged it over her head. The motion tousled her long, dark hair, and Don told her she looked sexy, like Elizabeth Taylor in “Butterfield 8.” She laughed and thanked him, never doubting her own beauty, and Don liked that about her.
She sat before him, in her bra and her favorite skirt, he in his T-shirt and jeans. At the same time he yanked off his T-shirt, she undid her bra and pulled it free from her arms. They stared at each other. She said she’d seen men’s chests before, at the beach and in magazines, but she’d never been so close to one. He’d never seen a woman’s breasts; hers were beautiful in a way that reminded him of geometry. He said this aloud and she laughed, saying he could do circumference problems with them if that’s what he really wanted.
He helped her off with her skirt and she helped him with his jeans, nothing separating them now except his boxers and her tiny blue underpants. On three, Don said. They closed their eyes at the same time, removed the last barriers, then opened their eyes.
She was beautiful, like a painting. Beautiful breasts, a trim waist and hips that flared like a grown woman’s. A triangle of dark curly hair hid the place the world said he was supposed to be, a place he was now eager to explore.
You’re beautiful, like a sculpture, she said. Her gaze traveled from his face to his chest and then fastened on his cock, and he saw her swallow hard.
We don’t have to do this, he said. I don’t want to hurt you.
You would never hurt me, she said, leaning over to kiss him. He kissed her back and soon they were chest to chest, belly to belly, his hard cock trapped between their bodies. Her breasts were full and soft, the nipples achingly hard. She took his hand and placed it where she wanted it, encouraging him to touch her.
Donny, she whispered, as his thumb brushed across her nipple. Suck on it, Donny. Please.
He hesitated only a second before doing as she asked. He closed his mouth over that foreign piece of flesh and sucked hard. She moaned and held him close, thrusting herself against his cock and begging him to touch her all over.
Her skin was smooth beneath his calloused hands, almost too smooth, too perfect. He put aside his desire for planes and angles and concentrated on the curves instead. She was beautiful, his beautiful best friend, and he loved her in a way he would never love another woman. For she was a woman, not a girl, and he was a man, not a boy, and there was no reason they shouldn’t have this one perfect moment, not when the rest of their lives stretched out so uncertainly before them.
He slid his fingers between her thighs and shuddered at the wetness he found. She was soft there, too, delicate in a way a man could never be. He gasped in pleasure as her hand closed around his dick, her thumb sweeping across the wet tip, and he knew the time had come.
He let go of her long enough to get a condom from the box on the nightstand, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t open the little packet. He laughed when she took it from him and opened it with her teeth, and suddenly, everything was all right. She helped him put on the condom, pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him.
I heard it feels better this way, the first time, she said as she straddled his hips.
I have no idea, Don said, and they both laughed at their ignorance.
He held his cock steady as she lowered herself on him, watching her face as pleasure washed over them both. He’d read somewhere that sex hurt a girl the first time she had it, but Julie didn’t look like anything hurt. But he had to be sure.
Don’t let me hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.
It doesn’t hurt, she said as she slid all the way down, engulfing him in her warm tight body, making them both catch their breath. Oh, Donny, it’s beautiful, so beautiful.
It was beautiful. It was everything. As she rode his cock in counterpoint to his frantic thrusts, he forgave her body for its lack of planes and angles, just as he knew she forgave his for having no curves.
She leaned forward, her hands on either side of his head, her breasts close to his face. He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her tightly, burying his face in her neck as she cried out his name. He slid one hand to her hip to hold her steady, to help her ride out the waves of pleasure-pain that shot through them both at the same time.
Minutes later, she said she was heavy and should move, but Don held onto her, wanting to savor just a little longer their one perfect moment. He felt his cock slip from her body and he remembered the condom, how even just a little of his semen could prove dangerous for them both.
Julie helped him get it off, wrapped it in a tissue and gently placed it in the wastebasket beside the bed. She told him to get under the blankets so they could sleep for a while, and then, if he liked, they could get a pizza and watch a movie.
He agreed, happy to feel so good and happy to know the love between them hadn’t changed. As they lay side by side, Julie said sometimes she wished he was a woman. Don admitted that he sometimes wished she were a man. But they were what they were and they accepted that and were just glad to have each other because that was quite a bit.
During their last days together, they watched movies, held hands and talked about what life on their own might be like. In four years, she said, she’d be out of college and he’d be out of the Army. If he wanted, they could go somewhere and get an apartment, and then look for what they really wanted to find.
Don agreed. It was nice to have a plan.
****
The day he left for the Army was almost a relief. He’d been counting the days, begging his mother not to cry and telling his father it was all right that he wasn’t going to college. He knew they felt guilty, knew he didn’t want to leave Julie, a girl they now considered their own daughter. All three of them knew it was about the money, but no one would voice such a thing because the lack of it was dividing their family, and nothing as inconsequential as money should have that kind of power.
Julie was quiet during those final days. They hadn’t made love since that first time, and Don thought she might want to do it once more, just to have something to remember. He would have done whatever she wanted, even though it wasn’t what either of them needed. So they didn’t make love, but spent long hours talking and planning for the day when their lives would be their own again.
Julie drove him to the recruiter’s office on the last day, holding his hand all the way there, and kissing him hard and long in front of all those other men. Don kissed her back with everything he had, and he did it because he truly loved her, not because they needed to make a good show of it.
I love you, Donny, she whispered in his ear.
I love you, too, he whispered back.
Be careful. There are a lot of men on that bus.
He knew what she meant. I will. I’ll be careful. You, too.
She waited while he boarded his bus, standing there in her blue sweater, his favorite, the one that matched her cornflower-blue eyes. He took a window seat and waved at her, and for the first time since the day she’d rescued him from his friends, he saw her cry. His own eyes filled, but he was in the Army now, and soldiers didn’t cry. So he smiled, waved and blew her a kiss. She caught it, smiled back and pressed the kiss to her heart.
As the bus drove away from his best and only friend, he endured the whistles and cheers from guys he didn’t know, guys who congratulated him for having such a hot girlfriend. He let them think what they liked. It would be easier that way.
****
To Don’s shock, he loved the Army. He loved the discipline, the friendships, the training. He loved testing himself and being surprised when he passed. He’d almost forgotten what he was; there was no time to worry about it.
He went home on leave when he got the chance, to see his parents and to visit Julie at college. Her new friends giggled when they saw him, making Don blush, which made them giggle even more. In voices loud enough for him to hear, they told her how lucky she was to have such a hot boyfriend.
But college wasn’t working out like Julie had planned. She had hoped to meet someone, but so far none of the girls she’d met were interested. It was a disappointment, she said, but she’d deal with it. When they were done with college and the Army, then life could really begin.
Don agreed. He loved the Army, but he eventually he’d want to find someone, someone with whom he could build a life. Until he met that person, living with Julie would be the next best thing.
Yes, it was nice to have a plan.
****
Two months before his hitch was up, he was given leave. He knew he was supposed to talk to his family and to his girlfriend about the possibility of doing another four years. His commanding officer urged him to consider making the Army his career. The colonel wanted Don to study military intelligence and hinted that he was in line for a promotion.
You’re smart, Strachey, he said. You think fast and you can lead men. The Army needs soldiers like you.
Don was flattered and said he’d think about it, but he knew what he was going to do. He and Julie had made plans so long ago, and he wanted to carry them out. She wanted them to move to San Francisco, where they were sure to fit in, sure to meet the kind of people they needed to meet. Don was caught up in her enthusiasm; he wanted to go with her, but he couldn’t do that and stay in the Army.
He’d told his Army buddies that he might not re-up, but they urged him to string the colonel along. You’ll get shit assignments if you don’t, so wait until the last minute before you say anything. Don took their advice and pretended he was thinking very hard about staying in the Army.
And so he went home, the Army already on its way to being nothing more than a good memory. Julie had graduated and was staying with her parents, waiting for him to get out so they could start living.
She picked him up in the Nova, waved at his mother and the two of them took off to get a pizza. But not just any pizza, Julie said. She and her parents had discovered a little place about thirty miles away, a hop, skip and a jump down the interstate.
On the way, Don told her what the colonel had said. Julie asked Don if he was sure he didn’t want to do another four years, in light of the opportunity he was being offered. Don said he didn’t; he wanted to move to California, the sooner the better.
She reached for his hand, but as he moved to take hers, a truck careened through the median and struck the Nova, shoving it across two lanes and into a thick stand of trees. The windshield shattered, Julie screamed and Don banged his head on the passenger-side window.
****
He tasted blood.
His head ached. His shoulder hurt so badly he thought he might be sick. He opened his eyes.
Glass was everywhere, on the dash, all on the seat, on his jeans, shards sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight. People yelling as they ran toward him and Julie.
Julie.
His neck screaming in protest, Don turned his head. She was there beside him, her face a mass of cuts, ribbons of blood streaming down her cheeks and her chin, turning dark as they stained her blue sweater. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open; faint noises were struggling to reach his ears.
He touched her arm; her lips moved. Donny. Donny, help me.
People were gathered around the car, a policeman was shoving them aside even as he yelled something into a radio. Don ignored them all and reached for Julie, pulling her gently into his arms, brushing the glass from her skirt.
It’s all right, he told her. You’ll be all right. You have to be. We’re going to California.
I can’t, she whispered. But you … you have to go.
Blood leaked from her nose. Don wiped it away, but it kept coming. She opened her eyes. They were brilliant, wet and blue, so like the cornflowers in his mother’s garden. He kissed her bloody cheek and begged her to hold on, begged her not to go because he couldn’t live without her.
Find him, she said. Find … love.
We’ll look together, he said, praying for the sound of an ambulance. Just hold on.
Love you, she said.
I love you, too. Please. Stay for me. I’m afraid without you.
Don’t be. She tried to smile, but coughed instead, blood bubbling up on her tongue.
Promise. Promise you’ll look for him. She coughed again. I’ll be him.
I promise.
Don pressed his mouth against her neck, desperate to feel her heart, but it was too late. She died in his arms, as he had come alive in hers, and when the ambulance crew finally arrived, it took three men to to pry them apart.
****
The colonel was sorry about Julie and told Don he’d sent a letter to her parents. If he needed more time to decide what he wanted to do, he could have it. But Don said he was ready to sign the papers, ready to serve his country for another four years.
There was nothing else he could do. Julie was gone and with her his life, the one they’d planned for so long. His parents wanted him to go to college, but Don told them he was going back to the Army. It wasn’t really what he wanted; he wanted Julie, he wanted a man, but he couldn’t have either. The Army, with its order and discipline, was what he needed.
He signed on for another hitch, was promoted to sergeant and returned to his unit which was now shipping out for Kuwait. He looked forward to the trip, the new environment, hoping it would alleviate his grief, burn away the fog that enveloped his mind. His Army buddies were kind, spent time with him, urging him to talk about Julie, but he kept her close to his heart, where she belonged, and shared nothing.
Four more years in the Army. For four years he wouldn’t need to think about what to do next. The Army would assign him where it would, and he would take it from there. It was a relief, not having to decide. It was a relief to have a plan.
But he hadn’t planned on Kyle Griffin.
****
Don knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Lt. Kyle Griffin was just like him in every way that counted. Long-dormant feelings burned near the surface, heating Don’s skin, until he couldn’t look at Kyle without wanting him, without giving away his worst secret.
Kyle was everything Don wanted. He was smart, funny, ambitious and good-looking. Although he was confident and brash, he never tried to overshadow the other men. He just did.
He outranked Don, but that didn’t matter. Kyle was friendly, often seeking Don out for conversation. Now and then he would touch Don’s shoulder, and that spot would burn for hours. Don imagined that hand on his bare body and would have to rush to the latrine where he could take care of his raging hard-on. He’d never wanted a man the way he wanted Kyle. He’d had crushes, small things that amounted to nothing that would disturb his peace of mind, primarily because Don knew his feelings would not be reciprocated.
Kyle was different. He was also the same, and Don had no idea what to do about it.
In the end, he did nothing. Frustrated, he forced himself to concentrate on his work, to be worthy of the faith the colonel had placed in him. He studied and learned, gaining the skills he need to advance, to make something of himself, to make Julie proud of him.
They were on patrol one afternoon, checking places that had been checked a million times. It was routine, but it wasn’t, because the men knew even a dilapidated shack could hold unwelcome secrets.
As they approached their target, shots rang out on both sides, trapping the unit in a crossfire. Kyle yelled for all of them to hit the dirt. He cut loose with his own weapon, firing to the left, then to the right, providing cover for his men who scrambled on their bellies back to the truck. Screams filled Don’s ears as their assailants were forced from their positions.
Don looked back. Kyle was on his knees, firing away, a huge target in this flat, desolate land. Don brought out his own weapon, intent on helping him, but a shot tore across his back, knocking him to the ground.
Kyle screamed at him to stay down. Don could hear his own unit returning fire. His back burning, Don turned his head from side to side and saw he was the only one left, the only one still trapped. He wanted to tell the men to go, to leave him, because it didn’t matter what happened to him. If he had to die, this was a good way to do it. Before he could say anything, Kyle was there beside him, telling him he was all right, they’d get out of this.
Somehow, Kyle did it. He dragged Don back to the truck, magically avoiding the bullets that screamed past their ears. Reinforcements were arriving, swarming over the sand hills. The firing stopped as the medics took charge of Don. They lifted him onto a stretcher and loaded him in the truck, standing aside as Kyle climbed in beside him.
As the medics worked on Don’s back, he and Kyle gazed at each other. Kyle nodded and Don closed his eyes, safe now, content in knowing he was right.
Once he’d healed sufficiently, Don was given two weeks leave. He could have gone home, but he chose to go to Germany. On the day he was to take off, his buddies gathered around him, giving him a list of the best bars and telling him where to find the prettiest, most accommodating women. He laughed because they expected him to laugh, but his heart wasn’t in it. He would go to Germany, see the sights, send his mother a gift and get drunk. As he got up to leave, Kyle entered their tent, slapped Don on the shoulder and asked if he was ready to go.
Kyle said he’d been given leave, and it was his duty to show the greenhorn how to go about seducing European women. The men roared with laughter and told Don he was lucky to have such an expert guide.
Don purposely didn’t look at Kyle, afraid his feelings would show. The men walked them to the transport plane, told them to have a good time, and he and Kyle were off to Germany.
When they arrived, Kyle found them a room. They didn’t leave it for three days.
****
Kyle taught Don everything about making love to a man - how to kiss, how to touch and how to give unforgettable blowjobs. He taught Don how to fuck, but Don learned right away that Kyle preferred to be on top, the one in charge. Kyle had allowed Don inside him only once, so that he could see what it was like. Don was in love, so he accepted this and learned to relax the moment Kyle touched his hole.
Once he got used to it, he loved it. He loved how out-of-control Kyle was when he fucked, how he moaned and swore and said Don was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Kyle always made sure Don had his pleasure, too, making Don come so hard he almost blacked out.
Two weeks went by, and on the last night, Kyle told Don what was expected. They couldn’t be spotted in deserted places. They couldn’t talk about anything important unless they were sure nobody was around. Fucking was out of the question; there was never enough time for that. They would have to make do with hands and mouths. And women - they would have to discuss women or people would suspect them for sure.
Ignoring a sudden pain in his stomach, Don agreed to everything. Kyle was right: getting caught meant the end of their Army careers, and neither wanted that. They would be discharged and sent home, the shame too much to bear.
They spent that last night making love and talking about the future only as it existed in the Army. Don was in love with Kyle, crazy in love. He would have a hard time pretending otherwise. But he was a soldier first, a lover second, and he knew all about order and discipline. He would make Kyle proud of him, and one day Kyle would love him back.
As they lay there in the dark, Don thought about Julie, wondering if she’d be happy for him now that he’d found somebody. He turned his head and pressed his mouth against Kyle’s neck, feeling his heartbeat, strong and sure. Of course, she’d be happy, he told himself over and over again. Of course, she would.
****
Don never knew who betrayed them. He’d been ordered to see his commanding officer, and when he arrived, he’d saluted and remained at attention. The familiar “at ease” wasn’t issued. Sweat that had nothing to do with the desert heat trickled down his back.
The colonel cleared his throat. It has come to my attention, Strachey, that you and Lt. Griffin have been conducting an inappropriate relationship.
Don froze. Kyle had warned him about this, had told him what to say if it happened. The questions came thick and fast; Don’s heart pounded, his mouth went dry and before he knew it, he was admitting everything. Yes, he had a relationship with Kyle Griffin. Yes, they’d been together in Germany. But sir, I love him.
The colonel said nothing. He pressed a button on his intercom. Two lieutenants came in and stood on either side of Don. The colonel sighed and told them to get Griffin. Don was escorted away, left in a tent by himself and ordered to remain there.
As soon as they were gone, Don sank down on the tent’s only cot, buried his face in his hands. Why hadn’t he lied? Why hadn’t he denied everything? This wasn’t part of the plan, he was supposed to be cool, calm under fire. Kyle would be furious, beyond furious.
A thought came to him. If they were discharged, they could be together. They could go to San Francisco, live there with people who understood, where they wouldn’t have to hide. Don loved the Army, but he still wanted a life. Maybe Kyle did, too. Maybe he would see it as a fair trade. The Army for Don’s love. He would have given anything for Kyle’s, even his Army career.
The reality was far different. Kyle hated Don, hated what he’d done and why the fuck couldn’t you keep your goddamn mouth shut? When Don tried to explain, Kyle walked away, back to his solitary tent, and on the day they were discharged, Kyle put a gun in his mouth and blew his brains out.
Don called his parents before he left, told them he coming back for good, but he wasn’t coming home. When they asked why he was leaving the Army, he saw no reason to lie. I’m a fag, he said, and they’re throwing me out.
Julie, his father said.
Julie’s dead.
****
The next few years did not pass in a blur. Don remembered every one of them. He remembered every dead-end job, every bathroom blowjob, and no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t kill the pain that was Kyle.
He was angry at Julie for leaving him and for lying to him about love, for giving him hope. There was no love for people like them, and hope was out of the question. They were hated, scorned and forced to hide what they were. They were trapped.
Don wanted to be straight, to look at women and sincerely want to be with them. But there was no changing this part of him, and when the nights were their darkest, he knew himself for a coward. Kyle had done the brave thing. At times like this, Don wished he’d been allowed to keep his service revolver.
****
There was no GI bill for Don, no money for college, and anyway, he didn’t want to go. But he needed a profession, his own business. If he worked for himself, he could work all the time, and maybe this emptiness inside him would cease to matter.
One night, Don was drinking in a different bar, one that didn’t know him as a fag, when a man sat down on the stool beside him. They got to talking, and Don asked him what men always asked: what do you do for a living?
Jerry Renaldo said he was a private detective, had been one for twenty years and the job fucking sucked. Don asked him how being Philip Marlowe could possibly suck, and Jerry said, you watch too many movies, kid.
He told Jerry he hadn’t watched movies in years, not since - well, that didn’t matter. Jerry asked Don his line of work, and Don admitted he didn’t have one. He just worked.
That’s no way to live, kid; you gotta work for yourself. That way, the only person fucking you over is you.
They talked some more, and Jerry told Don to come to his office the next day. Bring some goddamn sandwiches or something, he said, before he paid for his drink and another one for Don.
Don showed up the next day, with pastrami on rye in a grease-stained bag, and while they ate Jerry told him what it took to be a private detective. He was thinking of retiring, maybe getting licensed in Florida and just doing some part-time work. He was sick of getting shot at, he said.
What do you think, Don? You wanna come work for me, learn to be a private eye?
Excited for the first time in years, Don said yes, he’d like that. He took a deep breath, wanting to tell the truth to the man who’d given him his first break in years. I’m gay, he said. I hope that won’t make a difference.
Jerry shrugged. Just means you think with your dick, same as everybody else. But that’ll have to stop. You gotta use your head, keep it out of your ass.
Don worked for Jerry for three years. He got his license, a new gun, and when Jerry made noises about wanting to retire, Don drained his savings to buy the business from him. Jerry left for Florida within the week, wishing Don well as he drove away.
So Don had a profession. He put his own name on the window, his own name on the door. He added more services, simple stuff that would pay when bigger cases were few and far between. He worked hard, sometimes sixteen hours a day, and it helped. A little. He was too tired to be lonely, too exhausted to go out looking for anything. If he got horny, he took care of it himself.
He wasn’t angry at Julie anymore. She had been young and full of ideas, and sometimes Don was glad she hadn’t lived long enough to get hurt. But then he would hate himself for thinking that way, knowing that if she’d lived they’d be in California, working and meeting people and eventually falling in love. He missed her terribly, would always miss her, and when he lay in bed at night, unable to sleep, he remembered the cornflower blue of her eyes.
****
A grocery store couldn’t be avoided forever. Apart from a jar of spoiled salsa, there was nothing in his refrigerator. Don stopped at the Price Chopper nearest his apartment, intent on getting enough bread and cold cuts to last him for a few days. A six-pack, too, since he didn’t have to work that night.
He talked with the guy behind the deli case as the man wrapped a pound of pastrami. Don grabbed a handy loaf of rye and made his way to the beer aisle. Sam Adams sounded good, a nice change from Budweiser.
He turned the corner, walked a couple of faltering steps and almost dropped his shopping basket. Not ten feet away, stood a man whose profile took Don’s breath away. The man was tall, dark-haired, clean-cut and dressed in a suit worth more than all the clothes in Don’s closet. He wore glasses, and somehow they made him look sexier than a guy strutting around in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.
The man was frowning as he examined the display of imported beer, impatiently tapping his foot. Don couldn’t move. He could only stand there, staring like a fool.
The man must have sensed his presence because he turned his head, looked Don up and down, then smiled.
Don’s knees turned to water. He tried to smile back but imagined he just look constipated.
“Maybe you can help me.” The man beckoned him forward. “I’ve been asked to pick up some imported beer for a party tomorrow night, and I’m not sure what to choose.”
Don lurched forward, almost tripping over his own feet. He blushed, feeling stupid and inept in this beautiful man’s presence. But the man didn’t seem to notice.
But if Don knew anything, he knew beer. He should, he drank enough of it. If he couldn’t impress the man with his social skills, at least he could advise him on what beer to buy.
“How many people?” Don purposely didn’t look at the man, focusing instead on a six-pack of Lowenbrau.
“Four.”
“Small party.”
“Yes.”
A small, intimate party. Couples. Couples who would go home together, sleep together and wake up together. His stomach clenched. He thought he was beyond this, beyond caring. Obviously not. To cover his dismay, he concentrated on the beer.
“If you’ve got four people, you’ll want at least twelve beers. Maybe the Lowenbrau and the Guinness. Beck’s is good if you want something a little lighter. Some of these Belgian beers are good, too, but I haven’t tried all that many of them -”
“I’m Tim Callahan.”
Don halted his beer speech, forced himself to look at the man. His jaw dropped, just like it had outside the locker room, when Julie appeared out of nowhere, taking his arm and changing his life.
Don would know those eyes anywhere.
“Have dinner with me,” Don whispered. “Please.”
Tim smiled. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Don. Strachey. Donald Strachey.”
“Where would you like to go, Donald Strachey?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. “I’ll even eat sushi.”
Tim laughed. “With an invitation like that, how could I refuse?” He tipped his head at Don’s shopping basket. “What about your groceries?”
“They’ll keep.”
Don took Tim to the nearest place he knew, a place that served good hamburgers. He worried it wouldn’t be good enough, but Tim said it was fine. They talked a little, about inconsequential things, and then it was time to go.
He drove Tim home, to an apartment complex in a better neighborhood than his own. He pulled into the parking lot, shifted into park and took a deep breath.
“Can I see you again?” He stared out the windshield just in case Tim said no.
“I’d like that.”
Don sighed in relief. “When? Tomorrow?” He looked at Tim. “We’ll go someplace else, someplace better.”
Tim shook his head. “I have plans tomorrow. Remember?”
The party of four. The small, intimate party for which Tim had a date. Probably a tall, handsome, rich date, someone who didn’t take him to burger joints for dinner.
“I forgot you were seeing someone,” Don made himself say. “Forget I said anything.” He started the car. “It was nice meeting you.”
He stared out the windshield again, wishing Tim would go away, wishing they’d never met.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t see you at all,” Tim said. “I just said I was busy tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”
“You won’t be.”
Don gripped the steering wheel. “Do you want to meet me somewhere? On Monday?”
Tim was quiet for a minute. “What about the Hunt Club? Seven?”
“OK.”
Don wanted to kiss Tim goodnight. But he was afraid if he touched him, he’d never let him go. So he sat there like a lump, not even looking at Tim, afraid of what he’d see in those beautiful eyes.
“Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.”
Tim got out of Don’s battered car and strode down the path in front of his building. He didn’t look back.
****
By Monday, Don was a nervous wreck. He paced his office, went out for a lunch he couldn’t eat, came back and paced some more. He left for the Hunt Club at five, far too early, but maybe a drink or two would relax him, help him be better company this time.
By the time Tim arrived, Don had already tossed back five martinis. He’d run into a former client, a biker, but he shooed the guy away when he saw Tim.
Tim took the stool beside Don, placing a notebook on the bar.
“What’s that for?”
“When I’m making big decisions, I like to take notes.” He ordered a martini. “That way, I can keep the facts straight.”
Notes. Oh, God, he was taking notes. Notes on him, on this date. And he was already half in the bag. There was nothing and everything to lose. Don ordered another martini, then another, and another, until he lost count. He vaguely heard someone say he’d had enough, which was true, so he wished Tim goodnight, knowing he was fucked. He slid off his stool and would have collapsed on the floor if it hadn’t been for Tim grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.
He vaguely recalled leaving the bar, of getting into a taxi, of Tim digging his wallet out of his back pocket to find his address, of being dragged into the elevator and holding onto Tim while they rode the rattling contraption to the third floor.
When they got to his apartment, he lurched through the doorway, demanding another drink, an order Tim ignored.
“You’ve had enough.”
“Have not.” Don staggered to his refrigerator. He’d already fucked up beyond redemption, might as well do it up right.
“Donald, you need to go to bed.”
Tim grabbed his arm. Don shook him off.
“Leave me the fuck alone.” He staggered backward, falling against the sink. He slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “Why? Why do you have those eyes?”
Tim squatted on the floor in front of him, forced his hands away from his face. “Let me put you to bed, Donald. You’re awfully drunk, and pretty soon you’re going to say something you don’t mean.”
Don closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He nodded.
Tim helped him into the bathroom so he could brush his teeth, wash his face and use the toilet. His hands were gentle but firm as he stripped Don down to his T-shirt and boxer shorts, then maneuvered him into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Timmy.” Don stumbled toward the bed. “I fucked it all up.”
“It’s all right.” Tim lifted the comforter so Don could slide underneath it. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don squeezed his eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning. A cool hand touched his cheek, a thumb stroked his lower lip.
Tears, bitter and hard-won, forced themselves between his eyelids. Snot clogged his sinuses, leaked out of his nose. He wiped his face on the sheet, not caring how it looked. He just wanted it over, he wanted everything to be over.
Warm lips touched his cheek, lingered on his ear.
“It’s all right, Donald. I promise you, it’s all right.”
The hand moved to his hair, fingers gliding through the messy blond strands. Don tried to stay awake, to enjoy the first gesture of kindness he’d felt in a very long time, but the martinis held sway. He reached for the hand as he drifted off, dreaming of the cornflowers in his mother’s garden.
****
It was the mother of all hangovers. Don didn’t want to move for fear his head would explode, but he had to piss. He had to brush his teeth before whatever had died in his throat came back to life. He opened his eyes, shut them against the late-morning light.
“Fourteen martinis,” a voice said. “I’ve never seen anyone drink fourteen martinis.”
Shit. Oh, shit.
Timmy. He was still there. Don turned his head, carefully, and opened his eyes. Timmy lay next to him, propped up on his elbow, wearing a T-shirt and boxers that obviously were not purchased at Walmart.
And those eyes, so like Julie’s. Don wanted to drown in those eyes.
“I’m sorry.” His dry throat forbade him to swallow, so he grimaced instead.
“What you need,” Timmy said as he got out of bed and put on his glasses, “are a couple of the expired Excedrin I found in the bathroom, a glass of water and a bathroom break.”
He disappeared down the little hallway, reappearing in seconds with a glass Don didn’t know he owned and a couple of dusty-looking pills.
“Take these.”
Don eased himself into a sitting position, holding his pounding head, and did as he was told.
“Now for the bathroom.”
“I can do it.”
“So do it, then. And don’t forget to brush your teeth. I think something might have died in there.”
Don staggered to the bathroom, did what he had to do, purposely avoiding the mirror. He already knew how bad he looked. And since Timmy wasn’t staying, it didn’t matter.
When he returned to the bedroom, Timmy was under the covers. He lifted them and patted the space beside him.
“A little more sleep and you’ll be as good as new.”
Don stood his ground. “What are you doing?”
Timmy removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “I’m going to sleep. I don’t often take a day off, and I want to enjoy it.” He settled himself against his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Wake me up in a couple of hours.”
Don stood there for a minute, then shrugged and got into bed. He was tired, his head hurt, and there was no reason to stay up and suffer. He got into bed beside Timmy, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
****
When he awoke the second time, it was early afternoon. Timmy wasn’t there, but that didn’t surprise Don. But it hurt. God, it hurt.
He got out of bed, first making sure his head was still in one piece. He stretched, and that’s when it hit him. Bacon. Someone was cooking bacon - in his apartment.
He threw on a pair of jeans that weren’t too dirty and the last T-shirt in his bureau. Army green, but he ignored that in favor of investigating that smell emanating from his kitchen.
Timmy was there, heaping cooked bacon on a paper towel-covered plate. A stack of toast was already buttered and sliced; a jar of mayo stood nearby. He must have gone shopping. As far as Don knew, his refrigerator did not contain the wherewithal for such a feast.
“Hey.”
Timmy looked up, smiled. “Hey, yourself. Get the lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge, will you? And the orange juice.”
Once again, Don did as he was told. He brought them to the counter and watched while Timmy made deli-sized BLTs. Then he poured two large glasses of orange juice and handed them to Don. “Let’s eat.”
They sat at the tiny kitchen table, eating their sandwiches, drinking orange juice and not talking at all. When they finished, Don remained where he was, watching while Timmy tidied the kitchen. Once he was done, Timmy sat opposite Don, folding his hands on the table.
“I think we should try this again.”
Don couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After last night? After he’d made such a fool of himself?
“Why would you want to?” Don shook his head. “I was an asshole last night. I’m an asshole most of the time; ask anybody.”
“Because I think we’ve got something here, something I’m not eager to throw away just because you drank a little too much.” He smiled. “I know you like me. You even offered to eat sushi.”
Don knew he’d do a lot more than that; all Timmy had to do was ask and Don would give him anything he wanted. In the back of his mind, he could hear Julie’s voice telling him to hold on and don’t let go.
Timmy smiled. “So, what do you say? Are you willing to give us another chance?”
Don was willing, more than willing. Timmy felt like his last chance, his only shot at having something good. He saw Julie in Timmy’s eyes, his best friend, the only friend he’d ever had. If he let Timmy go, he’d be letting Julie go, too.
“I’d like that. I’ll try not to screw it up.”
“I’ll try not to take notes.”
He got up from the table and held out his hand. Don took it, letting Timmy bring him to his feet. Timmy drew Don into his arms, holding him gently, touching his lips to Don’s hair.
“What is it about my eyes?”
Don froze. What had he said last night?
“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.” He kissed Don’s ear. “You don’t ever have to tell me.”
Don tightened his arms around Timmy’s back, rubbed his face against his chest. “I will someday. I promise.”
“Good enough.”
Don pressed his mouth against Timmy’s warm neck, needing to feel his heart, to make sure the man in his arms was real. He kissed the pulse that beat against his lips, the rainy-day scent of Timmy’s skin transporting him back to that time so long ago.
Timmy wasn’t Julie, but there was something of Julie in him, and it went beyond the color of his eyes. It was his strength, his kindness and his belief that Don was a good man, worth the trouble and deserving of another chance.
“I was thinking,” Timmy said, “maybe you’d like to come over to my place. We could watch a movie and get a pizza.”
Don smiled against Timmy’s shoulder. “Have you seen ‘Baby Jane’?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
Fandom Donald Strachey Mysteries, movieverse
Rating and word count: NC-17, precisely 8,999 words
Spoilers: For "Shock to the System" and one stolen line from "Death Trick"
Disclaimer: Don and Timmy belong to Richard Stevenson.
A/N: Thanks goes to nyteflyer for the beta, for helping me fix the train wreck that was my original ending and for encouraging me to post this. I wasn't going to, since it's so different from everything I've done. But stretching one's wings is a good thing, I think.
Cornflower Blue
At 16, Don still possessed his virginity. The other guys laughed about it, called him a fag, but it was all in good fun. Sooner or later, they said, some slut will pop your cherry and it’ll be over with - done, finished - and you’ll wonder why the hell you waited so long.
By the time he was 17, they were giving him funny looks. Maybe you are a fag, they said. They tried to set him up with girls everyone knew would put out for anyone. But Don made sure he was busy - he had to help his dad paint the house, put brakes on his mother’s car, mow his grandmother’s lawn - but he soon ran out of excuses.
One day, they were razzing him outside the locker room, telling him he must be a fag if he didn’t meet that new girl under the bleachers and let her have it. She was out there right now, they’d gone to a lot of trouble to make it happen, what the fuck was he waiting for? Christmas?
“He’s waiting for me, and I’ll thank you fuckers to watch your mouths.”
Don and his friends turned around, their jaws dropping in collective amazement. It was Julie - unattainable, untouchable, beautiful Julie. The girl every guy dreamed about and knew he could never have. She was here for Donald Strachey? Runty little Donald Strachey?
“Close your mouths before you catch flies.” She tucked her hand in the crook of Donald’s arm. “Let’s go, Donny.”
Nobody made a sound as Don and Julie walked away, arm in arm, down the hall and through the double doors to the parking lot. Don had no idea what to say. But that turned out to be all right, because she said everything for him.
“We have six months until graduation. Then three months of summer and we’re off to college.”
He nodded, his mouth dry.
“Let’s spend them together.”
Why, he wanted to ask. She read his mind instead.
“Because we need each other.”
They drove away in Julie’s car, a vintage Chevy Nova. “We’ll go to my house. My parents won’t be home until seven.”
His voice returned. “And do what?”
“We’ll know when we get there.”
Julie had a big, beautiful house, nothing like his family’s one-story bungalow. Terrified and sweating so much he knew he must stink, Don followed Julie to her bedroom. It was a nice room, much bigger than his, and just as messy. For some reason, that made him feel better.
She sat down on the bed, watching him. He remained standing, watching her in turn.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
His jaw dropped. “Me? You?”
She smiled. “You sound like Tarzan.”
He didn’t return the smile. His heart was pounding, his head aching. He didn’t want to have sex with her. Not ever. Not with any girl. There was no way he could tell her that. She’d tell everyone. If he turned her down then everyone would know.
“I thought not.” She patted the space beside her. “And that’s good, because I don’t want to have sex with you, either. At least, not right now.”
Don’s relief was so great that his knees buckled and he slipped to the floor. Julie was beside him in an instant. She put her arm around his shoulders, but she didn’t say anything. When he finally drew an easy breath, she got up and sat back on the bed. This time, Don sat beside her.
“I know you,” she said. “And if you think about it long enough, you’ll realize you know me, too. As far as I can tell, we’re the only ones. So we have to stick together.”
Don stared at her. It was a trick, a trick to get him to voice a thought he’d never said aloud. She was trying to get at his secret so she could tell it at school and ruin him.
She stared back. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that matched the cornflowers in his mother’s garden, were wet and bright. Her chin wobbled, but she didn’t cry. Just like he didn’t cry. He never cried. Julie, he suspected, never did, either.
He nodded. So did she.
“You want to make popcorn and watch a movie?”
“OK.”
“Have you seen “Baby Jane? It’s one of my favorites.”
Don shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything.”
Julie got up, smoothing her skirt. “Good, because I have a million videos. We’ll have plenty to keep us busy.”
Don and Julie became “an item.” She picked him up for school, they ate lunch together and spent Friday and Saturday nights at each other’s houses. They made what Julie called “public appearances” at basketball games, McDonald’s and the school carnival. They went to the prom together, and by only one vote missed being crowned king and queen.
The boys stopping razzing Don. Instead, they asked dirty, jealous questions, like did Julie put out? Does she suck your cock? Do you suck her tits?
When Don had had enough of them talking about his best friend that way, he punched the biggest guy in the jaw. The questions stopped.
After graduation, they both got summer jobs, but they spent all their spare time together, making guarded plans for a new chapter in their lives. Julie was happy to be going off to college, and so was Don until he overheard his parents one night. Money was tighter than they expected it to be; they had no idea how they were going to send Don to school.
So he told Julie he wasn’t going. He said he didn’t want to, and she called him a liar. So he told her the truth. She held him tight and he held her back, falling in love with her just a little and wondering how it would feel when he fell in love for real.
He sat his parents down a few nights later and told them he wanted to join the Army, to see a little bit of the world before he had to settle down and go to college. For now, he was tired of school and thought it would be better to wait.
His mother cried. His father made an odd noise and left the room. But in the end, they agreed that it was his life and his decision. He called Julie the next morning and told her his plan. She yelled at him and called him an idiot, then asked if she could drive him to the recruiting office.
She picked him up in her Nova and held his hand all the way there. She went in with him to make it look good, sitting in the waiting room, reading military magazines while he interviewed and signed the papers. She even shook hands with the recruiter and told him she’d be waiting for Don when he got out. The recruiter smiled and nodded as if to say, yes, that’s what a good girlfriend does.
After that, they stopped making “public appearances.” Don was nervous about the Army, scared they’d find out about him. Julie didn’t talk about college, and Don knew it was because she didn’t want him to be more disappointed than he already was. They had so little time left, and Don wanted to enjoy it, not waste it on things that didn’t matter.
One night, Julie said she wanted to have sex, just once, just to know what it was like. Wouldn’t he like to make love, too?
Yes, but it might ruin everything, Don told her. You’re my best friend, my only real friend. If I don’t have you, I don’t have anyone.
She kissed his cheek and said, if anything, they would both be stronger for it. She didn’t trust anyone else with something so important, and didn’t he feel the same? When he said that he did, she said she knew he would. Julie led him upstairs to her room and showed him the box of condoms she’d bought just in case he said yes.
They spent a long time learning how and where to kiss. Don had never known how good it felt to kiss another person’s neck, to feel her heart beating against his lips. Her teeth on his earlobe made his toes curl, her mouth on his cheek made the air rush from his lungs.
He didn’t think he could get hard with a girl, but Julie made it so easy. She didn’t act shy and weird, nor did she expect him to lead them both to a place he’d never been. She smelled good, not sweet and flowery like the other girls, but like the grass, the leaves and the air on a rainy day. She had strong, brave hands that held him close, close enough that he could feel her nipples against his chest, even through the blue sweater that matched her eyes.
Let’s take our clothes off, let’s look at each other, and maybe we won’t be the way we are, she whispered in his ear. Although he knew it wouldn’t really work, Don liked the idea; anything was better than this terrible war he fought with himself, day and night, a battle that drove him crazy with unfulfilled desire. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then sat up to take off her own sweater.
Let me, he whispered. He took hold of the hem and gently helped pull her arms free, then watched as she tugged it over her head. The motion tousled her long, dark hair, and Don told her she looked sexy, like Elizabeth Taylor in “Butterfield 8.” She laughed and thanked him, never doubting her own beauty, and Don liked that about her.
She sat before him, in her bra and her favorite skirt, he in his T-shirt and jeans. At the same time he yanked off his T-shirt, she undid her bra and pulled it free from her arms. They stared at each other. She said she’d seen men’s chests before, at the beach and in magazines, but she’d never been so close to one. He’d never seen a woman’s breasts; hers were beautiful in a way that reminded him of geometry. He said this aloud and she laughed, saying he could do circumference problems with them if that’s what he really wanted.
He helped her off with her skirt and she helped him with his jeans, nothing separating them now except his boxers and her tiny blue underpants. On three, Don said. They closed their eyes at the same time, removed the last barriers, then opened their eyes.
She was beautiful, like a painting. Beautiful breasts, a trim waist and hips that flared like a grown woman’s. A triangle of dark curly hair hid the place the world said he was supposed to be, a place he was now eager to explore.
You’re beautiful, like a sculpture, she said. Her gaze traveled from his face to his chest and then fastened on his cock, and he saw her swallow hard.
We don’t have to do this, he said. I don’t want to hurt you.
You would never hurt me, she said, leaning over to kiss him. He kissed her back and soon they were chest to chest, belly to belly, his hard cock trapped between their bodies. Her breasts were full and soft, the nipples achingly hard. She took his hand and placed it where she wanted it, encouraging him to touch her.
Donny, she whispered, as his thumb brushed across her nipple. Suck on it, Donny. Please.
He hesitated only a second before doing as she asked. He closed his mouth over that foreign piece of flesh and sucked hard. She moaned and held him close, thrusting herself against his cock and begging him to touch her all over.
Her skin was smooth beneath his calloused hands, almost too smooth, too perfect. He put aside his desire for planes and angles and concentrated on the curves instead. She was beautiful, his beautiful best friend, and he loved her in a way he would never love another woman. For she was a woman, not a girl, and he was a man, not a boy, and there was no reason they shouldn’t have this one perfect moment, not when the rest of their lives stretched out so uncertainly before them.
He slid his fingers between her thighs and shuddered at the wetness he found. She was soft there, too, delicate in a way a man could never be. He gasped in pleasure as her hand closed around his dick, her thumb sweeping across the wet tip, and he knew the time had come.
He let go of her long enough to get a condom from the box on the nightstand, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t open the little packet. He laughed when she took it from him and opened it with her teeth, and suddenly, everything was all right. She helped him put on the condom, pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him.
I heard it feels better this way, the first time, she said as she straddled his hips.
I have no idea, Don said, and they both laughed at their ignorance.
He held his cock steady as she lowered herself on him, watching her face as pleasure washed over them both. He’d read somewhere that sex hurt a girl the first time she had it, but Julie didn’t look like anything hurt. But he had to be sure.
Don’t let me hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.
It doesn’t hurt, she said as she slid all the way down, engulfing him in her warm tight body, making them both catch their breath. Oh, Donny, it’s beautiful, so beautiful.
It was beautiful. It was everything. As she rode his cock in counterpoint to his frantic thrusts, he forgave her body for its lack of planes and angles, just as he knew she forgave his for having no curves.
She leaned forward, her hands on either side of his head, her breasts close to his face. He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her tightly, burying his face in her neck as she cried out his name. He slid one hand to her hip to hold her steady, to help her ride out the waves of pleasure-pain that shot through them both at the same time.
Minutes later, she said she was heavy and should move, but Don held onto her, wanting to savor just a little longer their one perfect moment. He felt his cock slip from her body and he remembered the condom, how even just a little of his semen could prove dangerous for them both.
Julie helped him get it off, wrapped it in a tissue and gently placed it in the wastebasket beside the bed. She told him to get under the blankets so they could sleep for a while, and then, if he liked, they could get a pizza and watch a movie.
He agreed, happy to feel so good and happy to know the love between them hadn’t changed. As they lay side by side, Julie said sometimes she wished he was a woman. Don admitted that he sometimes wished she were a man. But they were what they were and they accepted that and were just glad to have each other because that was quite a bit.
During their last days together, they watched movies, held hands and talked about what life on their own might be like. In four years, she said, she’d be out of college and he’d be out of the Army. If he wanted, they could go somewhere and get an apartment, and then look for what they really wanted to find.
Don agreed. It was nice to have a plan.
****
The day he left for the Army was almost a relief. He’d been counting the days, begging his mother not to cry and telling his father it was all right that he wasn’t going to college. He knew they felt guilty, knew he didn’t want to leave Julie, a girl they now considered their own daughter. All three of them knew it was about the money, but no one would voice such a thing because the lack of it was dividing their family, and nothing as inconsequential as money should have that kind of power.
Julie was quiet during those final days. They hadn’t made love since that first time, and Don thought she might want to do it once more, just to have something to remember. He would have done whatever she wanted, even though it wasn’t what either of them needed. So they didn’t make love, but spent long hours talking and planning for the day when their lives would be their own again.
Julie drove him to the recruiter’s office on the last day, holding his hand all the way there, and kissing him hard and long in front of all those other men. Don kissed her back with everything he had, and he did it because he truly loved her, not because they needed to make a good show of it.
I love you, Donny, she whispered in his ear.
I love you, too, he whispered back.
Be careful. There are a lot of men on that bus.
He knew what she meant. I will. I’ll be careful. You, too.
She waited while he boarded his bus, standing there in her blue sweater, his favorite, the one that matched her cornflower-blue eyes. He took a window seat and waved at her, and for the first time since the day she’d rescued him from his friends, he saw her cry. His own eyes filled, but he was in the Army now, and soldiers didn’t cry. So he smiled, waved and blew her a kiss. She caught it, smiled back and pressed the kiss to her heart.
As the bus drove away from his best and only friend, he endured the whistles and cheers from guys he didn’t know, guys who congratulated him for having such a hot girlfriend. He let them think what they liked. It would be easier that way.
****
To Don’s shock, he loved the Army. He loved the discipline, the friendships, the training. He loved testing himself and being surprised when he passed. He’d almost forgotten what he was; there was no time to worry about it.
He went home on leave when he got the chance, to see his parents and to visit Julie at college. Her new friends giggled when they saw him, making Don blush, which made them giggle even more. In voices loud enough for him to hear, they told her how lucky she was to have such a hot boyfriend.
But college wasn’t working out like Julie had planned. She had hoped to meet someone, but so far none of the girls she’d met were interested. It was a disappointment, she said, but she’d deal with it. When they were done with college and the Army, then life could really begin.
Don agreed. He loved the Army, but he eventually he’d want to find someone, someone with whom he could build a life. Until he met that person, living with Julie would be the next best thing.
Yes, it was nice to have a plan.
****
Two months before his hitch was up, he was given leave. He knew he was supposed to talk to his family and to his girlfriend about the possibility of doing another four years. His commanding officer urged him to consider making the Army his career. The colonel wanted Don to study military intelligence and hinted that he was in line for a promotion.
You’re smart, Strachey, he said. You think fast and you can lead men. The Army needs soldiers like you.
Don was flattered and said he’d think about it, but he knew what he was going to do. He and Julie had made plans so long ago, and he wanted to carry them out. She wanted them to move to San Francisco, where they were sure to fit in, sure to meet the kind of people they needed to meet. Don was caught up in her enthusiasm; he wanted to go with her, but he couldn’t do that and stay in the Army.
He’d told his Army buddies that he might not re-up, but they urged him to string the colonel along. You’ll get shit assignments if you don’t, so wait until the last minute before you say anything. Don took their advice and pretended he was thinking very hard about staying in the Army.
And so he went home, the Army already on its way to being nothing more than a good memory. Julie had graduated and was staying with her parents, waiting for him to get out so they could start living.
She picked him up in the Nova, waved at his mother and the two of them took off to get a pizza. But not just any pizza, Julie said. She and her parents had discovered a little place about thirty miles away, a hop, skip and a jump down the interstate.
On the way, Don told her what the colonel had said. Julie asked Don if he was sure he didn’t want to do another four years, in light of the opportunity he was being offered. Don said he didn’t; he wanted to move to California, the sooner the better.
She reached for his hand, but as he moved to take hers, a truck careened through the median and struck the Nova, shoving it across two lanes and into a thick stand of trees. The windshield shattered, Julie screamed and Don banged his head on the passenger-side window.
****
He tasted blood.
His head ached. His shoulder hurt so badly he thought he might be sick. He opened his eyes.
Glass was everywhere, on the dash, all on the seat, on his jeans, shards sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight. People yelling as they ran toward him and Julie.
Julie.
His neck screaming in protest, Don turned his head. She was there beside him, her face a mass of cuts, ribbons of blood streaming down her cheeks and her chin, turning dark as they stained her blue sweater. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open; faint noises were struggling to reach his ears.
He touched her arm; her lips moved. Donny. Donny, help me.
People were gathered around the car, a policeman was shoving them aside even as he yelled something into a radio. Don ignored them all and reached for Julie, pulling her gently into his arms, brushing the glass from her skirt.
It’s all right, he told her. You’ll be all right. You have to be. We’re going to California.
I can’t, she whispered. But you … you have to go.
Blood leaked from her nose. Don wiped it away, but it kept coming. She opened her eyes. They were brilliant, wet and blue, so like the cornflowers in his mother’s garden. He kissed her bloody cheek and begged her to hold on, begged her not to go because he couldn’t live without her.
Find him, she said. Find … love.
We’ll look together, he said, praying for the sound of an ambulance. Just hold on.
Love you, she said.
I love you, too. Please. Stay for me. I’m afraid without you.
Don’t be. She tried to smile, but coughed instead, blood bubbling up on her tongue.
Promise. Promise you’ll look for him. She coughed again. I’ll be him.
I promise.
Don pressed his mouth against her neck, desperate to feel her heart, but it was too late. She died in his arms, as he had come alive in hers, and when the ambulance crew finally arrived, it took three men to to pry them apart.
****
The colonel was sorry about Julie and told Don he’d sent a letter to her parents. If he needed more time to decide what he wanted to do, he could have it. But Don said he was ready to sign the papers, ready to serve his country for another four years.
There was nothing else he could do. Julie was gone and with her his life, the one they’d planned for so long. His parents wanted him to go to college, but Don told them he was going back to the Army. It wasn’t really what he wanted; he wanted Julie, he wanted a man, but he couldn’t have either. The Army, with its order and discipline, was what he needed.
He signed on for another hitch, was promoted to sergeant and returned to his unit which was now shipping out for Kuwait. He looked forward to the trip, the new environment, hoping it would alleviate his grief, burn away the fog that enveloped his mind. His Army buddies were kind, spent time with him, urging him to talk about Julie, but he kept her close to his heart, where she belonged, and shared nothing.
Four more years in the Army. For four years he wouldn’t need to think about what to do next. The Army would assign him where it would, and he would take it from there. It was a relief, not having to decide. It was a relief to have a plan.
But he hadn’t planned on Kyle Griffin.
****
Don knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Lt. Kyle Griffin was just like him in every way that counted. Long-dormant feelings burned near the surface, heating Don’s skin, until he couldn’t look at Kyle without wanting him, without giving away his worst secret.
Kyle was everything Don wanted. He was smart, funny, ambitious and good-looking. Although he was confident and brash, he never tried to overshadow the other men. He just did.
He outranked Don, but that didn’t matter. Kyle was friendly, often seeking Don out for conversation. Now and then he would touch Don’s shoulder, and that spot would burn for hours. Don imagined that hand on his bare body and would have to rush to the latrine where he could take care of his raging hard-on. He’d never wanted a man the way he wanted Kyle. He’d had crushes, small things that amounted to nothing that would disturb his peace of mind, primarily because Don knew his feelings would not be reciprocated.
Kyle was different. He was also the same, and Don had no idea what to do about it.
In the end, he did nothing. Frustrated, he forced himself to concentrate on his work, to be worthy of the faith the colonel had placed in him. He studied and learned, gaining the skills he need to advance, to make something of himself, to make Julie proud of him.
They were on patrol one afternoon, checking places that had been checked a million times. It was routine, but it wasn’t, because the men knew even a dilapidated shack could hold unwelcome secrets.
As they approached their target, shots rang out on both sides, trapping the unit in a crossfire. Kyle yelled for all of them to hit the dirt. He cut loose with his own weapon, firing to the left, then to the right, providing cover for his men who scrambled on their bellies back to the truck. Screams filled Don’s ears as their assailants were forced from their positions.
Don looked back. Kyle was on his knees, firing away, a huge target in this flat, desolate land. Don brought out his own weapon, intent on helping him, but a shot tore across his back, knocking him to the ground.
Kyle screamed at him to stay down. Don could hear his own unit returning fire. His back burning, Don turned his head from side to side and saw he was the only one left, the only one still trapped. He wanted to tell the men to go, to leave him, because it didn’t matter what happened to him. If he had to die, this was a good way to do it. Before he could say anything, Kyle was there beside him, telling him he was all right, they’d get out of this.
Somehow, Kyle did it. He dragged Don back to the truck, magically avoiding the bullets that screamed past their ears. Reinforcements were arriving, swarming over the sand hills. The firing stopped as the medics took charge of Don. They lifted him onto a stretcher and loaded him in the truck, standing aside as Kyle climbed in beside him.
As the medics worked on Don’s back, he and Kyle gazed at each other. Kyle nodded and Don closed his eyes, safe now, content in knowing he was right.
Once he’d healed sufficiently, Don was given two weeks leave. He could have gone home, but he chose to go to Germany. On the day he was to take off, his buddies gathered around him, giving him a list of the best bars and telling him where to find the prettiest, most accommodating women. He laughed because they expected him to laugh, but his heart wasn’t in it. He would go to Germany, see the sights, send his mother a gift and get drunk. As he got up to leave, Kyle entered their tent, slapped Don on the shoulder and asked if he was ready to go.
Kyle said he’d been given leave, and it was his duty to show the greenhorn how to go about seducing European women. The men roared with laughter and told Don he was lucky to have such an expert guide.
Don purposely didn’t look at Kyle, afraid his feelings would show. The men walked them to the transport plane, told them to have a good time, and he and Kyle were off to Germany.
When they arrived, Kyle found them a room. They didn’t leave it for three days.
****
Kyle taught Don everything about making love to a man - how to kiss, how to touch and how to give unforgettable blowjobs. He taught Don how to fuck, but Don learned right away that Kyle preferred to be on top, the one in charge. Kyle had allowed Don inside him only once, so that he could see what it was like. Don was in love, so he accepted this and learned to relax the moment Kyle touched his hole.
Once he got used to it, he loved it. He loved how out-of-control Kyle was when he fucked, how he moaned and swore and said Don was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Kyle always made sure Don had his pleasure, too, making Don come so hard he almost blacked out.
Two weeks went by, and on the last night, Kyle told Don what was expected. They couldn’t be spotted in deserted places. They couldn’t talk about anything important unless they were sure nobody was around. Fucking was out of the question; there was never enough time for that. They would have to make do with hands and mouths. And women - they would have to discuss women or people would suspect them for sure.
Ignoring a sudden pain in his stomach, Don agreed to everything. Kyle was right: getting caught meant the end of their Army careers, and neither wanted that. They would be discharged and sent home, the shame too much to bear.
They spent that last night making love and talking about the future only as it existed in the Army. Don was in love with Kyle, crazy in love. He would have a hard time pretending otherwise. But he was a soldier first, a lover second, and he knew all about order and discipline. He would make Kyle proud of him, and one day Kyle would love him back.
As they lay there in the dark, Don thought about Julie, wondering if she’d be happy for him now that he’d found somebody. He turned his head and pressed his mouth against Kyle’s neck, feeling his heartbeat, strong and sure. Of course, she’d be happy, he told himself over and over again. Of course, she would.
****
Don never knew who betrayed them. He’d been ordered to see his commanding officer, and when he arrived, he’d saluted and remained at attention. The familiar “at ease” wasn’t issued. Sweat that had nothing to do with the desert heat trickled down his back.
The colonel cleared his throat. It has come to my attention, Strachey, that you and Lt. Griffin have been conducting an inappropriate relationship.
Don froze. Kyle had warned him about this, had told him what to say if it happened. The questions came thick and fast; Don’s heart pounded, his mouth went dry and before he knew it, he was admitting everything. Yes, he had a relationship with Kyle Griffin. Yes, they’d been together in Germany. But sir, I love him.
The colonel said nothing. He pressed a button on his intercom. Two lieutenants came in and stood on either side of Don. The colonel sighed and told them to get Griffin. Don was escorted away, left in a tent by himself and ordered to remain there.
As soon as they were gone, Don sank down on the tent’s only cot, buried his face in his hands. Why hadn’t he lied? Why hadn’t he denied everything? This wasn’t part of the plan, he was supposed to be cool, calm under fire. Kyle would be furious, beyond furious.
A thought came to him. If they were discharged, they could be together. They could go to San Francisco, live there with people who understood, where they wouldn’t have to hide. Don loved the Army, but he still wanted a life. Maybe Kyle did, too. Maybe he would see it as a fair trade. The Army for Don’s love. He would have given anything for Kyle’s, even his Army career.
The reality was far different. Kyle hated Don, hated what he’d done and why the fuck couldn’t you keep your goddamn mouth shut? When Don tried to explain, Kyle walked away, back to his solitary tent, and on the day they were discharged, Kyle put a gun in his mouth and blew his brains out.
Don called his parents before he left, told them he coming back for good, but he wasn’t coming home. When they asked why he was leaving the Army, he saw no reason to lie. I’m a fag, he said, and they’re throwing me out.
Julie, his father said.
Julie’s dead.
****
The next few years did not pass in a blur. Don remembered every one of them. He remembered every dead-end job, every bathroom blowjob, and no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t kill the pain that was Kyle.
He was angry at Julie for leaving him and for lying to him about love, for giving him hope. There was no love for people like them, and hope was out of the question. They were hated, scorned and forced to hide what they were. They were trapped.
Don wanted to be straight, to look at women and sincerely want to be with them. But there was no changing this part of him, and when the nights were their darkest, he knew himself for a coward. Kyle had done the brave thing. At times like this, Don wished he’d been allowed to keep his service revolver.
****
There was no GI bill for Don, no money for college, and anyway, he didn’t want to go. But he needed a profession, his own business. If he worked for himself, he could work all the time, and maybe this emptiness inside him would cease to matter.
One night, Don was drinking in a different bar, one that didn’t know him as a fag, when a man sat down on the stool beside him. They got to talking, and Don asked him what men always asked: what do you do for a living?
Jerry Renaldo said he was a private detective, had been one for twenty years and the job fucking sucked. Don asked him how being Philip Marlowe could possibly suck, and Jerry said, you watch too many movies, kid.
He told Jerry he hadn’t watched movies in years, not since - well, that didn’t matter. Jerry asked Don his line of work, and Don admitted he didn’t have one. He just worked.
That’s no way to live, kid; you gotta work for yourself. That way, the only person fucking you over is you.
They talked some more, and Jerry told Don to come to his office the next day. Bring some goddamn sandwiches or something, he said, before he paid for his drink and another one for Don.
Don showed up the next day, with pastrami on rye in a grease-stained bag, and while they ate Jerry told him what it took to be a private detective. He was thinking of retiring, maybe getting licensed in Florida and just doing some part-time work. He was sick of getting shot at, he said.
What do you think, Don? You wanna come work for me, learn to be a private eye?
Excited for the first time in years, Don said yes, he’d like that. He took a deep breath, wanting to tell the truth to the man who’d given him his first break in years. I’m gay, he said. I hope that won’t make a difference.
Jerry shrugged. Just means you think with your dick, same as everybody else. But that’ll have to stop. You gotta use your head, keep it out of your ass.
Don worked for Jerry for three years. He got his license, a new gun, and when Jerry made noises about wanting to retire, Don drained his savings to buy the business from him. Jerry left for Florida within the week, wishing Don well as he drove away.
So Don had a profession. He put his own name on the window, his own name on the door. He added more services, simple stuff that would pay when bigger cases were few and far between. He worked hard, sometimes sixteen hours a day, and it helped. A little. He was too tired to be lonely, too exhausted to go out looking for anything. If he got horny, he took care of it himself.
He wasn’t angry at Julie anymore. She had been young and full of ideas, and sometimes Don was glad she hadn’t lived long enough to get hurt. But then he would hate himself for thinking that way, knowing that if she’d lived they’d be in California, working and meeting people and eventually falling in love. He missed her terribly, would always miss her, and when he lay in bed at night, unable to sleep, he remembered the cornflower blue of her eyes.
****
A grocery store couldn’t be avoided forever. Apart from a jar of spoiled salsa, there was nothing in his refrigerator. Don stopped at the Price Chopper nearest his apartment, intent on getting enough bread and cold cuts to last him for a few days. A six-pack, too, since he didn’t have to work that night.
He talked with the guy behind the deli case as the man wrapped a pound of pastrami. Don grabbed a handy loaf of rye and made his way to the beer aisle. Sam Adams sounded good, a nice change from Budweiser.
He turned the corner, walked a couple of faltering steps and almost dropped his shopping basket. Not ten feet away, stood a man whose profile took Don’s breath away. The man was tall, dark-haired, clean-cut and dressed in a suit worth more than all the clothes in Don’s closet. He wore glasses, and somehow they made him look sexier than a guy strutting around in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.
The man was frowning as he examined the display of imported beer, impatiently tapping his foot. Don couldn’t move. He could only stand there, staring like a fool.
The man must have sensed his presence because he turned his head, looked Don up and down, then smiled.
Don’s knees turned to water. He tried to smile back but imagined he just look constipated.
“Maybe you can help me.” The man beckoned him forward. “I’ve been asked to pick up some imported beer for a party tomorrow night, and I’m not sure what to choose.”
Don lurched forward, almost tripping over his own feet. He blushed, feeling stupid and inept in this beautiful man’s presence. But the man didn’t seem to notice.
But if Don knew anything, he knew beer. He should, he drank enough of it. If he couldn’t impress the man with his social skills, at least he could advise him on what beer to buy.
“How many people?” Don purposely didn’t look at the man, focusing instead on a six-pack of Lowenbrau.
“Four.”
“Small party.”
“Yes.”
A small, intimate party. Couples. Couples who would go home together, sleep together and wake up together. His stomach clenched. He thought he was beyond this, beyond caring. Obviously not. To cover his dismay, he concentrated on the beer.
“If you’ve got four people, you’ll want at least twelve beers. Maybe the Lowenbrau and the Guinness. Beck’s is good if you want something a little lighter. Some of these Belgian beers are good, too, but I haven’t tried all that many of them -”
“I’m Tim Callahan.”
Don halted his beer speech, forced himself to look at the man. His jaw dropped, just like it had outside the locker room, when Julie appeared out of nowhere, taking his arm and changing his life.
Don would know those eyes anywhere.
“Have dinner with me,” Don whispered. “Please.”
Tim smiled. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Don. Strachey. Donald Strachey.”
“Where would you like to go, Donald Strachey?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. “I’ll even eat sushi.”
Tim laughed. “With an invitation like that, how could I refuse?” He tipped his head at Don’s shopping basket. “What about your groceries?”
“They’ll keep.”
Don took Tim to the nearest place he knew, a place that served good hamburgers. He worried it wouldn’t be good enough, but Tim said it was fine. They talked a little, about inconsequential things, and then it was time to go.
He drove Tim home, to an apartment complex in a better neighborhood than his own. He pulled into the parking lot, shifted into park and took a deep breath.
“Can I see you again?” He stared out the windshield just in case Tim said no.
“I’d like that.”
Don sighed in relief. “When? Tomorrow?” He looked at Tim. “We’ll go someplace else, someplace better.”
Tim shook his head. “I have plans tomorrow. Remember?”
The party of four. The small, intimate party for which Tim had a date. Probably a tall, handsome, rich date, someone who didn’t take him to burger joints for dinner.
“I forgot you were seeing someone,” Don made himself say. “Forget I said anything.” He started the car. “It was nice meeting you.”
He stared out the windshield again, wishing Tim would go away, wishing they’d never met.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t see you at all,” Tim said. “I just said I was busy tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”
“You won’t be.”
Don gripped the steering wheel. “Do you want to meet me somewhere? On Monday?”
Tim was quiet for a minute. “What about the Hunt Club? Seven?”
“OK.”
Don wanted to kiss Tim goodnight. But he was afraid if he touched him, he’d never let him go. So he sat there like a lump, not even looking at Tim, afraid of what he’d see in those beautiful eyes.
“Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.”
Tim got out of Don’s battered car and strode down the path in front of his building. He didn’t look back.
****
By Monday, Don was a nervous wreck. He paced his office, went out for a lunch he couldn’t eat, came back and paced some more. He left for the Hunt Club at five, far too early, but maybe a drink or two would relax him, help him be better company this time.
By the time Tim arrived, Don had already tossed back five martinis. He’d run into a former client, a biker, but he shooed the guy away when he saw Tim.
Tim took the stool beside Don, placing a notebook on the bar.
“What’s that for?”
“When I’m making big decisions, I like to take notes.” He ordered a martini. “That way, I can keep the facts straight.”
Notes. Oh, God, he was taking notes. Notes on him, on this date. And he was already half in the bag. There was nothing and everything to lose. Don ordered another martini, then another, and another, until he lost count. He vaguely heard someone say he’d had enough, which was true, so he wished Tim goodnight, knowing he was fucked. He slid off his stool and would have collapsed on the floor if it hadn’t been for Tim grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.
He vaguely recalled leaving the bar, of getting into a taxi, of Tim digging his wallet out of his back pocket to find his address, of being dragged into the elevator and holding onto Tim while they rode the rattling contraption to the third floor.
When they got to his apartment, he lurched through the doorway, demanding another drink, an order Tim ignored.
“You’ve had enough.”
“Have not.” Don staggered to his refrigerator. He’d already fucked up beyond redemption, might as well do it up right.
“Donald, you need to go to bed.”
Tim grabbed his arm. Don shook him off.
“Leave me the fuck alone.” He staggered backward, falling against the sink. He slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “Why? Why do you have those eyes?”
Tim squatted on the floor in front of him, forced his hands away from his face. “Let me put you to bed, Donald. You’re awfully drunk, and pretty soon you’re going to say something you don’t mean.”
Don closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He nodded.
Tim helped him into the bathroom so he could brush his teeth, wash his face and use the toilet. His hands were gentle but firm as he stripped Don down to his T-shirt and boxer shorts, then maneuvered him into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Timmy.” Don stumbled toward the bed. “I fucked it all up.”
“It’s all right.” Tim lifted the comforter so Don could slide underneath it. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don squeezed his eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning. A cool hand touched his cheek, a thumb stroked his lower lip.
Tears, bitter and hard-won, forced themselves between his eyelids. Snot clogged his sinuses, leaked out of his nose. He wiped his face on the sheet, not caring how it looked. He just wanted it over, he wanted everything to be over.
Warm lips touched his cheek, lingered on his ear.
“It’s all right, Donald. I promise you, it’s all right.”
The hand moved to his hair, fingers gliding through the messy blond strands. Don tried to stay awake, to enjoy the first gesture of kindness he’d felt in a very long time, but the martinis held sway. He reached for the hand as he drifted off, dreaming of the cornflowers in his mother’s garden.
****
It was the mother of all hangovers. Don didn’t want to move for fear his head would explode, but he had to piss. He had to brush his teeth before whatever had died in his throat came back to life. He opened his eyes, shut them against the late-morning light.
“Fourteen martinis,” a voice said. “I’ve never seen anyone drink fourteen martinis.”
Shit. Oh, shit.
Timmy. He was still there. Don turned his head, carefully, and opened his eyes. Timmy lay next to him, propped up on his elbow, wearing a T-shirt and boxers that obviously were not purchased at Walmart.
And those eyes, so like Julie’s. Don wanted to drown in those eyes.
“I’m sorry.” His dry throat forbade him to swallow, so he grimaced instead.
“What you need,” Timmy said as he got out of bed and put on his glasses, “are a couple of the expired Excedrin I found in the bathroom, a glass of water and a bathroom break.”
He disappeared down the little hallway, reappearing in seconds with a glass Don didn’t know he owned and a couple of dusty-looking pills.
“Take these.”
Don eased himself into a sitting position, holding his pounding head, and did as he was told.
“Now for the bathroom.”
“I can do it.”
“So do it, then. And don’t forget to brush your teeth. I think something might have died in there.”
Don staggered to the bathroom, did what he had to do, purposely avoiding the mirror. He already knew how bad he looked. And since Timmy wasn’t staying, it didn’t matter.
When he returned to the bedroom, Timmy was under the covers. He lifted them and patted the space beside him.
“A little more sleep and you’ll be as good as new.”
Don stood his ground. “What are you doing?”
Timmy removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “I’m going to sleep. I don’t often take a day off, and I want to enjoy it.” He settled himself against his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Wake me up in a couple of hours.”
Don stood there for a minute, then shrugged and got into bed. He was tired, his head hurt, and there was no reason to stay up and suffer. He got into bed beside Timmy, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
****
When he awoke the second time, it was early afternoon. Timmy wasn’t there, but that didn’t surprise Don. But it hurt. God, it hurt.
He got out of bed, first making sure his head was still in one piece. He stretched, and that’s when it hit him. Bacon. Someone was cooking bacon - in his apartment.
He threw on a pair of jeans that weren’t too dirty and the last T-shirt in his bureau. Army green, but he ignored that in favor of investigating that smell emanating from his kitchen.
Timmy was there, heaping cooked bacon on a paper towel-covered plate. A stack of toast was already buttered and sliced; a jar of mayo stood nearby. He must have gone shopping. As far as Don knew, his refrigerator did not contain the wherewithal for such a feast.
“Hey.”
Timmy looked up, smiled. “Hey, yourself. Get the lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge, will you? And the orange juice.”
Once again, Don did as he was told. He brought them to the counter and watched while Timmy made deli-sized BLTs. Then he poured two large glasses of orange juice and handed them to Don. “Let’s eat.”
They sat at the tiny kitchen table, eating their sandwiches, drinking orange juice and not talking at all. When they finished, Don remained where he was, watching while Timmy tidied the kitchen. Once he was done, Timmy sat opposite Don, folding his hands on the table.
“I think we should try this again.”
Don couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After last night? After he’d made such a fool of himself?
“Why would you want to?” Don shook his head. “I was an asshole last night. I’m an asshole most of the time; ask anybody.”
“Because I think we’ve got something here, something I’m not eager to throw away just because you drank a little too much.” He smiled. “I know you like me. You even offered to eat sushi.”
Don knew he’d do a lot more than that; all Timmy had to do was ask and Don would give him anything he wanted. In the back of his mind, he could hear Julie’s voice telling him to hold on and don’t let go.
Timmy smiled. “So, what do you say? Are you willing to give us another chance?”
Don was willing, more than willing. Timmy felt like his last chance, his only shot at having something good. He saw Julie in Timmy’s eyes, his best friend, the only friend he’d ever had. If he let Timmy go, he’d be letting Julie go, too.
“I’d like that. I’ll try not to screw it up.”
“I’ll try not to take notes.”
He got up from the table and held out his hand. Don took it, letting Timmy bring him to his feet. Timmy drew Don into his arms, holding him gently, touching his lips to Don’s hair.
“What is it about my eyes?”
Don froze. What had he said last night?
“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.” He kissed Don’s ear. “You don’t ever have to tell me.”
Don tightened his arms around Timmy’s back, rubbed his face against his chest. “I will someday. I promise.”
“Good enough.”
Don pressed his mouth against Timmy’s warm neck, needing to feel his heart, to make sure the man in his arms was real. He kissed the pulse that beat against his lips, the rainy-day scent of Timmy’s skin transporting him back to that time so long ago.
Timmy wasn’t Julie, but there was something of Julie in him, and it went beyond the color of his eyes. It was his strength, his kindness and his belief that Don was a good man, worth the trouble and deserving of another chance.
“I was thinking,” Timmy said, “maybe you’d like to come over to my place. We could watch a movie and get a pizza.”
Don smiled against Timmy’s shoulder. “Have you seen ‘Baby Jane’?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”