Saturday Morning at the Garage (A Dukes of Hazzard Story!)

Note: I've been working on this off and on for about four years now. Every so often, I'll open it up and re-read it, type a few lines and close it again. This is a very long piece (25k+ words right now, or roughly 47 pages). A very, VERY long "short story", I guess. Here's the beginning though. I apologize for the poor format!
__
As usual per their Saturday morning routine, Bo and Luke Duke arrived at Cooter’s garage for their typical Saturday breakfast of beer and doughnuts. It was still early, so the boys were surprised to see a jump-suited figure under the hood of an old junker.
“Hey Cooter -the old jalopy giving Mr. Jenkins trouble again?” Bo leaned against the door.
“Actually, Cooter had to run into Atlanta to pick up a replacement part -and Mr. Jenkins just brought it in to change the spark plugs. “ Cooter Davenport’s youngest cousin Jack emerged from under the hood. “Beer is in the fridge, doughnuts are on top of the toolbox.”
“Oh, thanks.” Luke picked up the box before sitting down on the hood of the General Lee. He took one and handed the box over to Bo.
Jack disappeared under the hood again, “What are you boys up to today?”
Bo shrugged, “Just staying out of trouble, Jack.”
Jack laughed, emerging again and slamming down the hood of the car, “Sounds like a typical day for the Duke boys then.”
“And you? Are you stuck here all day?”
“Naw. Just until noon or so, then B.B. is coming in.” Jack wiped his hands on a grease rag before helping himself to a doughnut. “Cooter only lets me work five hours at a time, ‘cause I’m still in school.”
“Aw, he just wants to make sure you aren’t the one in the garage when us Duke boys come down here for help. Heaven forbid the littlest Davenport get into trouble.”
“Just because I’m still in high school doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my own fair share of trouble. -How’s the General?”
“Oh, he’s runnin’ fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Aw don’t worry about it, Jack. We’ll have Cooter look at it.”
Jack shrugged, “It’s alright. I know you think I’m incompetent.”
“We do not! ...What’s incompetent?” He whispered the latter at Luke.
Jack smiled, “No skin off my back, fellas. You want me to schedule an appointment with B.B.?
“No. The General is just fine.” Luke sighed, brushing the sugar from his fingers. “Bo, I’m going to run over to the post office to get those stamps for Daisy.”
Bo nodded, polishing off his 3rd doughnut, “Okay, cuz.”
“Keep him out of the trouble.” Luke requested of Jack before hopping off of the hood of the car, and walking out of the garage.
Bo and Jack continued with breakfast in a few moments of silence.
“You gonna be at the Boar’s Nest tonight?” Bo asked.
Jack shrugged, “Maybe. I’ve got some schoolwork to finish.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Time stops for no man. Might as well work on it today then struggle to get it done tomorrow.”
“You’ve got a lot more ambition then I ever did in school.” Bo laughed.
Jack smiled again, “Anything to keep Cooter and my other cousins off my back.”
Bo laughed again, “Yea, I suppose that wouldn’t be a pretty predicament to be in, eh, Jack?”

It was only a little after nine when Jack entered the Boar’s Nest with Cooter.
“Well hey!” Luke greeted them, making room for the pair at the table between him and Bo, “It’s a rare pleasure to see two Davenports out on the town.”
“Hey Bo, Luke.” Jack greeted them as he and Cooter sat down.
“Hey Boys. What ‘er you two up to?” Cooter asked, signaling to Daisy.
“Oh, just havin’ a drink. You?”
“Just spendin’ some time with the littlest Davenport.” Cooter patted Jack on the shoulder.
Jack sighed, hating the reference of ‘littlest Davenport’.
“Well hey Cooter -Jack. What can I get you two?”
“A beer for me, and a coke for Jack. Thanks.” Cooter gave her one of his best smiles.
“Sure thing, Cooter.” Daisy nodded.
Cooter and the Duke boys got down to talking and Jack sipped at the coke that Daisy brought him. No one seemed to notice when a stranger walked up to Jack’s chair, kneeling beside him, whispering in his ear for a moment.
After listening, Jack nodded and watched the stranger walk away.
“Hey, Cooter. I’m going outside for a minute. I’ll be back.”
“Whoa -what’s goin’ on?” Cooter asked.
“Nuthin’. Billy Sharpton’s got a new engine in his Dodge he wanted to show me is all. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Jack patted his shoulder before walking out of the bar.
“Bill Sharpton my ass.” Cooter swore.
“What’s the matter, Cooter?” Bo asked.
“Nothin’... Jack’s been lyin’ up storm’s lately is all. Say’s he’s out doing one thing, but no one knows where he actually is.” Cooter bit down on a piece of popcorn. “And he’s got these damn bandanas shoved in his back pockets. Navy and baby blue. Damned if I know what it means.”
Bo and Luke looked at one another, then at Cooter.
“Well, the boy’s growing up. Time he got himself a little freedom, Cooter.” Bo shrugged. “Besides, Jack knows to stay out of trouble.”
Little did any of them know what the littlest Davenport was actually up to, outside the Boar’s Nest in the stranger’s car.
Before moving to Hazzard to live with cousin Cooter, Jack Davenport had lived in Atlanta with his parents like any normal kid. But while he lived there, he had discovered a still-taboo subculture, and found that he actually quite enjoyed the company of other men. Hence the handkerchiefs, the unexplained disappearances, and the sloping grades no one had quite noticed yet.
So here he was, in the back of some strange car excepting sexual favors from a guy he really only knew as ‘Jacob’. He wasn’t exactly a complete stranger. Jack had gone on rendezvous with Jacob before. He was probably the closest thing to a boyfriend he’d ever had.
“Why are we always doing this in my car?” Jacob groaned in his ear.
“Because my cousin wouldn’t be to keen on finding us in his truck...or his garage...or really anywhere else that he might catch us.”
Jacob sighed, “You could just tell them you’re a fucking queer.”
“Do you really think that would be better?”
They moved apart, readjusting their clothes back into place.
“You never know. Maybe they’ll be okay with it.”
“You obviously haven’t been in Hazzard very long, Jacob.”

“So, how’s that engine?” Cooter asked when Jack returned to the table.
“Ran like a dream.” Jack picked up his soda, grimacing at the taste of melted ice in the coke.
“Hmm...You might be interested in know that Billy Sharpton stopped by while you were outside.”
Jack spit the soda back into the glass.
“Oh?”
Cooter nodded with one of his sarcastic smiles, “Yep.”
“Oh.”
“You want to tell us what’s goin’ on Jack?” Bo asked.
“Nothin. Don’t worry about it.” Jack picked up his baseball cap from the table. “It’s been fun boys, but I think I’ll head home.”
The trio followed Jack with their eyes before putting their heads together to discuss the problem. After three more rounds and a fast bar fight, Cooter bid the Duke boys goodnight in order to retire home and put the plan into action.
Jack was already asleep when Cooter came home. He had a few qualms about invading his cousin’s privacy as he pushed open the door to his bedroom. Jack groaned, but didn’t wake up, and Cooter breathed a sigh of relief.
He knew exactly what he was looking for -the answer to all of his questions. And now was the only prime time to nab it. Jack’s diary went everywhere with him.
There it was, the green spiral notebook laying innocently on Jack’s desk. Cooter moved stealthily across the floor, careful of the creaky floorboards. Then, he snatched the notebook from the desk and snuck sneakily back out of the room. Finally, he had it! The answers to the questions that Jack was avoiding like the plague.

Usually, Sunday was Cooter’s day off, but after church and dropping Jack off at home, he retired back to the garage where he would better be able to read Jack’s journal without the chance of Jack interrupting.
Kicking back in his office, Cotter cracked open the notebook.

November 21
Thanksgiving is a crock. Why would I want to celebrate a holiday with my family (of all people) that originated 100 years ago between pilgrims and a bunch of Indians?
Anyway, after Christmas, I’m moving to Hazzard to live with cousin Cooter. Since Baby Alexandria was born, money’s been tight and Cooter is always looking for help in the garage. I’m not mad about it, honest. I just wish that everything else could go with me. And I’m not talking about my family.
Mom is calling for dinner. Oh joy.
J.D.

Cooter took a moment to think about how Jack had signed his name. J.D. It seemed only normal for him to go by his initials like the other Davenport cousins, but since he had come to Hazzard it was just Jack.
The next month of entries were dull, careful meanderings, talking about school and his friends. So far, the journal hadn’t offered any answers. Then, just before Jack was to move to Hazzard, all of the answers where there.

December 22
I’ve decided what I will miss most while I’m in Hazzard...well, no, maybe not ‘what’, but ‘who’.
Matt Bradshaw. The guy I met after stumbling into Birds Eye View. Well, nearly a year later, I still see him once in awhile. Not too often, least we slip up in public.
Mostly, I meet him at BEV and he’ll rent out a room in the back for an hour. I always offer to chip in, but he just kisses me and shakes his head. I don’t mind. More money for me, I guess.
My family doesn’t know about any of this yet. As far as I know, no one’s really had to like, experience that kind of news -that someone they know is gay.
It’s weird actually, writing that word down and knowing that it’s the only word that can really describe me, the way I feel. The reason I don’t date girls, and the reason I find myself sneaking out of the house to go down to BEV.
It’s also weird that it’s all really going to have to stop once I leave Atlanta because I’m sure there isn’t a gay community in Hazzard. But you never know, do you? Matt taught me a trick with bandanas, putting them in your back pocket. Different colors mean different things. Dark blue is “I want to/want to be fuck(ed)”, light blue is “I want to/want to be suck(ed)”. There are other colors, but I’d never wear any of the others. You need to be careful when you approach guys with bandanas, ‘cause they could just like the look.
So, I have a lot of packing left to do. Cooter is picking me up on New Year’s Day. I hope he doesn’t have a hang over...
J.D.

Cooter carefully closed the journal, leaning back in the chair. Suddenly, it all made sense, and fit together. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about it though. The littlest Hazzard Davenport was gay, of all things to be. Cooter didn’t need to read it again, to double check that he hadn’t misread. He just knew it was true.
When he returned home, late that night, Cooter had to think twice about waking up Jack and admitting what he had done. He knew if he did, Jack would be upset, but was this something that could really be ignored? Was this something that could wait? Or was it already to late?

Jack woke up when Cotter sat down on the edge of the bed.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, blinking sleepily, glancing at the clock.
“Nothin’ -I just thought we could have a talk is all.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Yea...sorry about the time.” Cotter shrugged.
“So, what is this about? What can’t wait until daylight?”
“I don’t know how to say this, Jack...” Cooter set the notebook beside him on the edge of the bed. “I was worried. I am worried about you. I did somethin’ I’m not real proud of.”
“Cooter, I have never seen you look so ashamed of yourself. What did you do?”
“I read your journal, Jack.”
The room was quiet, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
“You what?” The news registered in Jack’s head. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you! I was worried about you! You never tell me anything!”
“Did you read all of it?”
“No, but I read enough of it.”
“God, Cooter! That was private!”
“Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on with you, Jack? Why did you have to go around hiding it?”
“Why shouldn’t I hide it? I’m a freak, Cooter!” Jack pushed him off of the bed. “Get out. Just go.”
“No, this isn’t over.” Cooter held his ground. “How long did you think you could keep hiding this? Keep going around doing what ever it is that you’re doing.”
“As long as I needed to!”
“Jack, you don’t have to hide anything! Not from me!”
“Cooter, you don’t understand. I have to hide from everyone.”
“If you wanted to hide, you wouldn’t look for it.” Cooter crossed his arms. “If you wanted to ignore that this is what you are, you’d be fighting it. You’ve accepted yourself for who you are. What other people think doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve been in Hazzard to long.” Jack shook his head. “As much as I’ve enjoyed your little motivational speech, I think you need to go. Right now.”
Cooter nodded, “Yea, fine. I better let you get back to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.”

The next morning, Jack avoided Cotter before school, getting ready as quickly as possible before setting off for school in his ‘78 chevy. Part of him knew that Cooter had just done what he thought was best, but the other part of him still felt betrayed.
He had the feeling that this -as the school year was beginning to dwindle, that he wouldn’t be able to avoid Cooter for long.

“Hey Cooter.” The Duke boys strolled into the garage in the late morning. “What’s goin’ on.”
“Hey.” Cooter didn’t offer up much conversation, staying under the hood of an ancient ford truck.
“What’s the matter?” Bo asked, leaning on the tire. “Jack?”
“It’s nothin’.” Cooter shook his head. “What can I do for you boys today?”
“Well, we just stopped by for some witty conversation, but we can see know you’re not up for that today.” Luke leaned on the other side of the car.
Cooter shrugged, wiping his hands on a grease rag, and then shoved it back into his pocket before slamming the hood of the truck, “It’s a family thing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Somebody die? You’ve never looked this down before.”
“Naw, nobody died!” Cooter sighed. “Can’t a man just be depressed once in awhile?”
Both of the Duke boys raised they eyebrows at him.
“Aw, shut up, the both of you.” Cooter moved towards his office, the Duke boys at his heels.
“Is this about Jack?” Luke asked. “Did you do it?” He raised an eyebrow.
Cooter sighed, swiveling his chair around, and propping his feet up against the filing cabinet, avoiding the Duke’s looks head-on.
“Well? You gonna tell us what’s goin’ on with the boy, or what?” Bo asked.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Cooter... What’s going on? Is it something serious?”
“Naw.” Cooter shook his head. “Jack’s just a little miffed with me for reading his journal.”
“So, did you find out what was going on?”
Cooter shrugged. Neither an agreement or a denial.
“And?”
“It’s nothin’. Forget about it.”
“You know you wanna tell us.” Bo tried tempting him, taking a seat on the edge of Cooter’s desk, crossing his feet at his ankles, his long denim encased legs stretching out in front of him.
“I can’t. Jack would kill me. You don’t want in on this, okay?” Cooter shook his head. “Now, do you two need something, or can I get back to work?”

Snippet: Were/Vamp Untitled

Martin leaned against the heavy oak post at the top of the steps leading down to the cement walk-way he and his dad had put in when he was a kid. Looking out over the dark yard he could feel the energy of the moon wafting through his body. It was still two weeks until the next full moon, but the power was always there, calling him…telling him to come and play in the thick uncut grass of the woods, and roll around in the undergrowth. Hunt the tempting little critters that teased him –squirrels, rabbits, even the birds.

His nose twitched involuntarily as he smelled something new –something besides the usual dampness that caked the farmland that his parents had settled so many years ago. He took a deeper breath before raising is arm to stop the incoming attack.

“You’re getting better at that,” his would-be assailant teased.

“Yes, well, you don’t exactly blend in,” Martin cocked an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing back here? I thought you were gone.”

“How could I leave my little Fuzzball?” the man teased, brushing Martin’s still-raised arm away so he could step closer. “I did my business elsewhere; now I’m just…wandering, I guess.”

“Oh,” Martin nodded.

“Are you angry?”

“You know we can’t…” Martin shook his head. “Our kind don’t mix.”

“Don’t, or shouldn’t?” He tilted Martin’s chin up, pressing their lips briefly together. “Just because our kinds don’t typically, doesn’t mean we can’t, or that we shouldn’t. Sometimes, rules are made to be broken.”

Martin gave in to his mouth, and he groaned at the cool lips on his. After a few moments of steamy reunion, he broke away, pushing away, moving back towards the door to the house. He stepped over the threshold and turned back to look at his former lover. “Why’d you come back, Tobias?”

“I missed you, what more reason is there?” He shook his head. He moved to step through the doorway himself but cringed as he found the door barricaded. A subtle wave of discomfort moved through his body and stepped back. “You rescinded my invitation?”

“I figured it would be safest for both of us if I did.”

“You love me,” Tobias shook his head.

“And that love will kill me some day,” Martin shook his head. “Good night, Tobias. Sweet dreams.” He pushed the door closed, doing his best not to take a last glance at the vampire.

“Martin,” Tobias banged a fist against the door. “Martin, c’mon! Talk to me at least!”

Martin squeezed his eyes closed, leaning back against the door, trying to remember how the hell they had gotten to this point…


It was a hot summer night in July when Martin first laid eyes on the vampire. He was roaming pack-less since his parent’s death. He didn’t need anyone else; he was tired of Pack Politics in the other local packs. He was capable of keeping himself safe. It wasn’t a full moon, but after a stressing week at work, doing road construction for the county, he needed to unwind. He’d changed into wolf-form and gone for a run in the woods that surrounded his childhood home. He hadn’t expected to come across anyone else…

He hunkered down at the edge of the trees and stared at the vampire. He’d never seen one up close before; just heard about them in stories and seen media representations…but up close and personal…he huffed a little sigh. He was gorgeous. His thick black hair was cropped neatly to his collar, and his skin looked like porcelain in the moonlight. He edged backwards into the underbrush as the vampire slowly turned, staring right at him.

“Come out, come out little pup,” he taunted. Martin involuntarily let loose a low growl. The vampire laughed, kneeling down and holding out his hands. “No worries, I’m not going to hurt you, Were. I’m a little lost. I could use your help.”

He was still suspicious, but couldn’t very well run. Martin wasn’t the running type –he always faced trouble head on. It was probably one of his biggest downfalls. He edged out of the brush, and circled the vampire, tail twitching.

“I don’t suppose you could change so we could talk?” The vampire stood back up, putting his hands on his hips. Martin obliged, shifting back into human form. He stood up, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was totally naked.

“You’re far from home, aren’t you Stranger?” The grass was damp beneath his feet and he kept his eyes steadily placed on the newcomer.

“Not so far,” he shook his head. “I’m a bit lost though, as I said. I’m looking for Julianne?”

“The town or the person?”

He smiled, showing his canines had extended just a little as he gave Martin a once over, “The town; my friend has a bar there.”

“Vampire bar?”

“Maybe,” he nodded.

“Then you must be looking for Janice Peat,” Martin had heard of the vampire owner of Gush, the vampire bar in the city, ten miles west, but had never met her or stepped foot in the bar. “You’re not so lost. Keep going west; you can’t miss it.”

“You look cold,” he noted.

“Not really,” he shook his head. He jerked forward as he was suddenly behind him, his hands squeezing Martin’s upper arms as he pushed his mouth close to the Were’s ear.

“Are you sure, pup?”

Martin’s body began to involuntarily shiver and he pulled him up against himself, wrapping his arms around his waist. He was warmer then Martin expected and he could smell the blood on him; he had fed recently. Surprisingly though, it didn’t smell human. He had a hard time believing that this beauty had a hard time finding willing victims.

“Yes,” Martin pulled free from him, quickly changing back into his wolf form before he could stop him. He felt better once he was back on all fours. The vampire put his hands on his hips, looking down at the wolf.

“Well, you just aren’t any fun at all, Fuzz Ball,” he sighed. He brushed his hand over his forehead. “Thank you for the help. I’ll repay you soon.” He gave him a cheeky grin before reaching out a hand to pat his head. Martin let him trail his fingers under his muzzle, and he pressed his lips to the top of his furry head. He jerked back again, surprised. The vampire just grinned before disappearing in a rustle of leaves and twigs.

Martin had almost forgotten about the vampire until a week later, as he sat out on his porch with a beer, listening to the breeze. He could smell the storm that was brewing up, but he wasn’t worried. He loved rain and couldn’t wait to go out and lay in the wet grass.

Martin was so lost in his thoughts, getting excited for the storm, that he nearly dropped his beer when the vampire appeared on the top step and cleared his throat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Martin caught the bottle swiftly and pressed a hand against his chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t smelled the stranger coming onto his property; the vampire may have been fast, be no way was he that fast.

“Sorry,” he grinned. No fangs this time. “I wanted to thank you for your help the other night, Pup.”

“My name is Martin,” he sighed. “Stop calling me pup.”

“Tobias,” he gave me a little nod. “I’d like to repay you for your help the other night.”

“No big deal; just directions,” he stood up, brushing dampness from where he had spilled some of the beer onto his jeans. “Damn it…”

“Let me take you to dinner,” He made to follow me as he moved into the house. He cringed as he was barricaded at the door. Martin didn’t issue an invitation, but kept the door open between the porch and the kitchen as he set the bottle down on the counter. “I heard there’s a Bar and Grill in town that’s pretty good.”

Martin cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning against the stove so that he could stare at him. He liked the feeling of keeping the barrier between them. “No thank you.”

“Then perhaps I can repay you some other way?” He returned my raised eyebrow, his hands pressing against the door frame. He looked good…too good, actually. He was wearing a thin leather jacket and a plain red t-shirt with the name of some tattoo parlor on it in white print. His jeans were dark, but not black, and hugged him nicely. His shoes were expensive looking sneakers. He looked…normal. Just like a regular guy, actually, as long as you ignored the slowly descending fangs, and the pearly-white skin. Martin subconsciously decided he’d look good with a tan…he found himself wondering if that rub-on stuff worked on vamps.

“I don’t think so,” he finally shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Does my vampirism really make you that uncomfortable?” He tilted his head to the side. He was struck by the way his hair framed his face so nicely.

To answer the question: He wasn’t sure. He was the first vampire Martin had ever met. He had known of their existence, ever since they’d come out of hiding four years before. The Weres and the shape-shifters had only been “out” for about six months now, but their kinds still didn’t mix very well. Finally, he shook his head, “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

“But you’re still skittish; like a deer in headlights. You are a Were, right? Not some silly shape-shifter who just likes wolves? You looked too big to be one of those.”

“I’m a Were,” Martin confirmed. “But whether that’s what I am or not, we’re still…”

“Werewolf and Vampire,” he finished. “Deliciously wrong, isn’t it?”

Martin crossed his arms over his chest and continued to look at him. He gave him another cheeky grin, and trailed his finger down the invisible barrier. He could just almost see it shimmer as he did so.

“Invite me in,” he requested. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What do you want?” Martin pushed back away from the stove, standing just out of his reach.

“Just to get to know you better. It isn’t every day I meet a cute puppy like you.”

“I am hardly a puppy.”

“You’re right…you’re too sexy to be called a pup,” he was teasing now.

“Ah. So, you just want to get into my pants. Figures.”

“Well, I got a good look at what’s inside of them already, so…you can say my interest has been peaked,” he nodded. “What if I promise, no biting?” He barred his teeth for a moment to show that his fangs were still well concealed.

Martin couldn’t stop himself before saying, “What’s sex without a little biting? You’re talking to a werewolf. We bite all the time.”

He grinned, “Okay, okay, maybe just a little. I’m pretty sure you can’t hurt me with those tiny little canines of yours,” The barrier rippled as he stroked his fingers down it again. “So, what do you say? Let me repay you with a little carnal knowledge?”

Martin looked past him to where it had started to sprinkle rain. He stared at the drops before stepping through the doorway. Tobias’s hands went to Martin’s hips as he pressed willingly up against him. He hummed, kissing his lips.

“So warm,” Tobias’s fingers inched up under the hem of his new conquest’s thin white tank. “And surprisingly smooth,” he grinned, teasing a little.

Martin shrugged, “I’m still young.” He pushed the vampire’s jacket back over his shoulders and tossed it onto the porch swing. “But you’re surprisingly warm too…” He pressed his face into the pale neck, taking a deep breath. “I smell…raccoon and…” Martin raised an eyebrow, “Lyd Schaff’s dog?”

“The bastard was asking for it…I didn’t kill him,” Tobias assured the werewolf. “But he sure as hell won’t be barking anymore.”

“Shame on you. Poor dog was probably just scared of you.”

“He’ll get over it,” he shrugged. He pulled Martin’s shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His fingers were cool as they trailed up his chest. “Besides, I expected things to go my way, and I hate having sex on an empty stomach –it’s much harder to control yourself,” he pressed his lips against the decidedly darker-skinned neck and Martin could feel his jugular vein pulsating, like it was begging for Tobias to sink his teeth into him. He moaned, feeling the vampire’s fangs testing the skin, but not biting down. He sucked at the skin, making Martin push up against him.

“You really want to do this out here?” He asked.

“Yes,” Martin looked him straight in the eye as he started undoing his partner’s belt. He pulled it free from the loops in a swift movement, letting it clatter to the porch. “What? You don’t like the great outdoors?”

“I love the great outdoors,” Tobias countered. He linked his fingers through the belt loops of Martin’s jeans, and pushed him up against the porch railing. His lips pressed to his again, and his tongue reached out to coax past the Were’s lips. Martin gave in, probably a little too easily; it had been too long.

They undressed each other the rest of the way, and Martin could feel Tobais looking down at him appreciatively before he forcibly bent him over the railing. His hands came down between his thighs and Martin squeezed his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. Tobias covered his back, his lips and teeth nipping at his skin. His tongue lapped at the sweat, beading at his neck. Martin nearly howled as he pushed inside the first time.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged. “Let it out.” The vampire stroked sinewy fingers down his spine as he started making fast-paced strokes. He couldn’t even stop the wolfish growl of pleasure from escaping his throat. Tobias grinned against Martin’s neck, pushing harder than before. Martin’s eyes squeezed closed as the vamp bared his teeth against his throat again. His fangs were fully descended now, and the Were could feel them pressing slightly harder into his throat every second until they broke the skin. He tipped his head back, pushing his throat tighter against the vampire’s mouth. Tobais’s tongue lapped at the wounds.

“You taste good,” he teased. He wrapped his arms around, bringing a hand to stroke his partner.

“Glad I’m to your liking.” They continued for a few minutes before Tobias made a short guttural noise in his throat, and Martin could feel that his partner was close. The vampire lifted his wrist to his mouth, tearing into his own arm before pressing it to the Were’s mouth. His first instinct was to turn away, but he found that he couldn’t. The vampire’s blood was curiously warm and didn’t taste like anything he had ever had before –and he had tasted the blood of many animals in his years as a werewolf. Tobias moaned as Martin sucked the quickly healing bite. The vamp waited until he felt the were’s own jerk to completion before he pulled his arm away, and released him from the porch rail. Tobais grinned, stretching his arms over his head.

Martin felt shaky as he reached up, wiping the traces of blood from his mouth.

“You all right?” He asked.

He nodded, moving to sit down on the edge of the porch swing, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look a little peaked,” he tilted his face up to look him in the eye. “Did I take too much?”

“No, I’m…fine, really.”

Tobias didn’t look like he believed him, and for that matter Martin wasn’t sure if he believed himself. He wasn’t sure what was more discerning: that he had just been fucked by a vampire on his back porch, or that he had just had blood-play sex with a vampire on his back porch.

Tobias leaned down, pressing his lips to the shaken werewolf’s. Martin could taste and smell the blood. His blood. Tobias’s blood. He could feel it, churning, in his stomach.

“You should go,” He stammered after he had broken the kiss.

He narrowed his eyes, “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” he nodded. He took his time pulling on his clothes. He shoved his feet back into his sneakers and was lacing them with his foot propped up against the railing where he had just had the Were bent over just minutes before. “We should do this again sometime…but, next time, can we do it like civil people?” He gave Martin an admonishing look.

“You paid me back for the directions. There isn’t any need for a next time,” he shook his head. He picked up his clothes and moved inside of the kitchen. Tobias was stopped by the invisible barricade again as he made to follow him.

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” there wasn’t any sense in lying to him.

“Then why not do it again?” He cocked his head. “You want to. I want to. It’s not like I’m asking to be your exclusive boyfriend or something. That’s for regular people. We’re not regular people.”

“I try my best to be,” Martin licked his lips, holding the bundle of clothes over his nakedness. “You should get home, wherever home is, before it starts to rain any harder. Nothing worse than a wet vampire, you know?”

Tobias sighed, pressing his hand against the barrier. He gave a slight grimace, “One last kiss before I go?”

“Good night ,Tobias,” He reached for the door.

“Martin?”

He met the vampire’s eyes.

“Tomorrow?” The lack of answer made him sigh. “The next day then? Don’t just say no. I…we…there’s something there. I know it’s not just me feeling that.” He leaned in as close as he could, and spoke in a loud whisper, “Something special; something right. Dirty, but right.”

“Good night, Tobias,” Martin repeated. He heard the vampire curse after the door clicked shut. He stayed out there for a few minute or so more, before he disappeared from the porch. Martin sighed, and made his way to the bathroom. He was in need of a good, hot shower to wash away the mixture of lust and disgust that was suddenly welling up inside.


Martin figured he should have known that it wasn’t over. Later, during the full moon, he could sense the vampire’s presence somewhere nearby. Rather than seek him out, he tried to stay a few steps in front of him until the early morning hours when he crept up the steps to sleep off the rest of the change on the rug on the porch. He was just starting to fall asleep, his head settling on his paws when he felt arms wrap around him. He snorted, but didn’t pull away. The long fingers stroked his fur, and he had to admit that it felt good. He let his eyes continue to flutter closed.

When he woke up in the morning, the vampire was gone of course. He groaned, picking himself up from the rug. It was chilly, even in the summer morning, and he pulled himself up and scooted into the house. He flipped the switch on the coffee pot before making his way to the shower. By the time he emerged and had the hot cup of joe in his hand, he noticed the note tacked to the left-open door.

Love: Hated to leave you w/o speaking to you, but dawn calls. Will call on you again, tonight. –T.

Martin sighed, taking the note from the door. He held it over the trash can before shaking his head and throwing it down on the counter top. For a guy he had only met, officially, twice, he was having a hard time getting him the fuck out of his head… He was suddenly very glad that he was going Lone Wolf. He could just imagine how a pack leader would take the news that he was getting involved, albeit inadvertently, with a vampire.

He poured the rest of the coffee into a thermos and picked up his orange safety vest from where he’d tossed it over one of the kitchen chairs the day before. Time for work –and getting that damn vamp out of mind.

JJJ Ranch Short Story #2

NOTE: YOU MUST READ SS#1 (below) OR THIS WILL BE VERY CONFUSING! (Also, sorry for the poor layout. C-P sucks!)

Royal woke up to the sound of rain pounding against his bedroom window. He groaned and reached across the bed –coming up empty handed. He’d forgotten. Even two months later, he still forgot. He shifted uncomfortably, pulling himself up in bed. The plastic cast was probably more comfortable than the conventional plaster, but it didn’t mean that it was any less annoying. It was hindering everything –he wanted anything to get away from the thoughts of the car wreck, but since all he could do was hobble around the house, it was like that was he could think about.
“Royal, are you awake?”
“In the bedroom, Patrick,” he called back. He slid his legs to the side of the bed and pulled himself up to his feet.
“Do you need help?” Patrick appeared in the doorway.
“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head. “Thank you.”
“Want me to turn the shower on for you?”
“I’ve got it, Patrick. Don’t baby me.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Patrick put up his hands defensively. “I’m just trying to help.”
Royal sighed, “I know, but I’m fine, really.”
“I’ll go make breakfast –anything you got a hankering for?”
“No, anything is fine,” Royal pushed himself to his feet. His leg felt heavy and the boot clunked as he approached the closet. He was just starting to be able to put weight back on the leg, but he wasn’t anywhere close to being able to get back outside. He pulled out a stack of fresh clothes and went to the shower.
After he had pulled on fresh clothes, he clunked along back into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Patrick was just starting to pour measures of batter onto the hot griddle. It sizzled and popped and the smell of fresh pancakes filled the kitchen.
“Smells good,” he reached down, rubbing his knee. “You’re better a cook then you ever let on.”
“Well, I’m getting plenty of practice now,” Patrick tossed him a grin over his shoulder.
“How are things going out there?”
“Fine,” Patrick shrugged. “Too much rain to get anything done today, but I’m going to try and tinker with the baler –it keeps making a weird grinding sound.”
“You want some help? I’m pretty sure I can handle sitting out there and telling you what to do.”
“It’s all right, Kentucky is going to help me.”
Royal held back a sigh, giving a little nod, “Okay. Where are the dogs?”
“In the laundry room, I just fed them.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Patrick shook his head. He flipped a few finished pancakes onto a plate with a rasher of bacon and a fried egg before bringing it over to Royal with a fork. “What do you want to drink?”
“You don’t have to wait on me,” Royal started to move to get up. Patrick set a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Royal, you’ve waited on me for years. It’s not a problem. What do you want to drink?”
“Just some milk, I guess.” Royal bit his tongue, shifting his legs under the table. He didn’t look up from the plate as Patrick set the glass in front of him. His hand hesitated over the jar of homemade strawberry jam before shifting for the bottle of Mrs. Butterworth.
“Royal, are you okay?” Patrick’s hands rest on his shoulders. “—And I’m not asking about your leg. I’m talking about you, up here,” He tapped the top of his head.
“I’m fine, Patrick.”
“You know, we…we haven’t talked about him. What happened.”
“I flipped the truck, he got thrown through the fucking windshield and he died,” Royal’s voice wasn’t at all bitter as he cut into the stack of pancakes –just matter-of-fact. “What is there to talk about?”
Patrick’s hands slid down his arms, “Okay, you aren’t ready yet, I get it. I wouldn’t be either.” He stepped back towards the stove to finish fixing his own plate.
Royal quietly stabbed at his own food, putting very little of it into his mouth. He just kind of shuffled the pieces around his plate until Patrick sat down across from him.
“Stop playing with it and eat,” Patrick’s voice held just the slightest note of warning. “You hardly ate anything all week –and don’t even dare try to tell me you aren’t hungry.”
Royal sucked in a breath, shoving a fork full into his mouth. It was really good. He wondered if he had made them from scratch or used a box. He glanced over at the counter to see if he could tell, but all he could see was the mixing bowl.
“It’s from scratch,” Patrick could tell what he was thinking. “You taught me how to make them, Royal.”
Royal felt the flush rise in his cheeks. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But you were thinking it,” Patrick didn’t hesitate before cracking open the jar of homemade preserves.
Royal closed his mouth around another forkful to avoid saying anything else. Hoshi wandered in from the laundry room and came to lay his head on Royal’s thigh. He reached down, running his hand across the top of the dog’s head. He wondered how much Hoshi and the girls could really understand about what happened –if they understood at all. Did they even realize that he was gone?
When they were finished, Patrick cleared their plates to the sink and started washing up. Royal lifted himself up out of the chair and Hoshi promptly pushed him back into it. Even he knew that there wasn’t anywhere else he needed to be.
“Hoshi,” Royal sighed. He patted his head. Hoshi snorted, pressing his paws onto Royal’s good side and lapping at his face. “Hoshi, down.”
“He just wants to make you feel better,” Patrick picked up the dish towel, leaning against the counter as he dried his mixing bowl. “C’mere Hosh –you want a treat?”
Hoshi looked between the two of them, but chose to stay close to Royal. He sank back down on the floor and lay down at his feet.
“Do you need anything before I go out?” Patrick finished stacking up the dishes.
“No, I’ll probably just watch some TV or something.”
“Do you want to come out and help me? I can send Kentucky home.”
“No, it’s too wet out,” Royal shook his head.
“Do you want to go out later,” Patrick knelt down next to his chair. “We can go out and eat at the diner. I can see if Jer and Dan want to come with. Or, I could invite them over here for pizzas with the girls, maybe play some poker?” He reached up, brushing Royal’s hair out of his face. It was still a little damp from his shower and it was past due for a hair cut.
“I don’t want to see them,” Royal shook his head.
“They’re your friends –family,” Patrick reminded him. “And they’ve been calling practically six times a day trying to get you to talk to them.”
“And I won’t talk to them today either,” Royal shook his head.
Patrick let out a slow sigh, standing back up, “Fine, be that way.” He stopped short of smacking the stubborn man upside the head. He stepped out onto the porch, pulling his hat down over his eyes and shrugging into a thin zip-up and then pulling a poncho over his head for the trip to the barn. “I’ll be in around noon for lunch.”
Royal didn’t reply, reaching down to let Hoshi lick his fingers. Patrick sighed again, a little more loudly this time, letting the screen door slap behind him. Royal let his eyes trail to the porch. Once he was sure Patrick wasn’t coming back into the house for anything, he pushed up from the table and hobbled into the office and pulled out his drawing pad.

“I need to go to the store,” Royal spoke up as Patrick set a glass of coke in front of him and a roast beef sandwich on wheat.
“What do you need? I can pick it up when I go to the supply store.”
“I’d really like to get it myself,” Royal fidgeted. Patrick didn’t know about his project, and he didn’t want him to see it until it was done.
Patrick nodded, “All right, fine. Where do you need to go?”
“Art supply store –Michaels would be fine.”
Patrick didn’t seem fazed, “Okay, we can go after you eat that sandwich –the whole thing.”
Royal nodded, “Okay.” He picked up the sandwich, taking a bite. He didn’t like cold roast beef but was surprised to find that Patrick had warmed it up for him. It was good and he didn’t have a problem getting it down. He finished the glass of coke and then waited for Patrick to finish his salad.
“Let me go wash up,” Patrick took his plate and set it in the sink to wash later with the dinner dishes. “I’ll come help you to the car in a few minutes –do you want your crutches?”
“No, I’m fine, just pull the truck up to door so the boot doesn’t get muddy,” Royal pushed back his chair to go get his jacket and wallet.
“All right, I’ll be back in a minute,” Patrick disappeared up the stairs to the bathroom. He washed his hands, scrubbed his face clean, and pulled on a pair of clean jeans and a dark t-shirt. He tromped back down the stairs where Royal had pulled on his jacket and a sneaker. He shifted in the doorway of the porch, looking out at the rain.
“Ready?” Patrick put a hand on his back.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll go get the truck,” Patrick squeezed past him. A few minutes later they were situated in the truck and on their way. Patrick tried to ignore the way Royal’s fingers tightened against his seatbelt, making sure it was secure before whitening his knuckles, gripping the edge of the seat.
“So what do you need from Michaels?” Patrick shifted a glance at him. Royal was staring out the window.
“A couple sketch pads, some new pencils. Not a lot.”
“Are you drawing again?” Patrick knew he’d dabbled with art in college before ultimately choosing agriculture.
“Maybe.”
Patrick held a breath and counted to ten before letting it out. “That’s good, I’m glad you’ve found something to keep yourself busy.”
Royal hummed.
“You know, if you wanted to…we could stop at Best Buy or something. We could get you a Wacom tablet and some software –you could edit it easier too.”
“I like doing it this way –besides, it’s just for me, so what does it matter how I do it?”
“It doesn’t, I suppose,” Patrick reached across the seat, pressing his hand on top of Royal’s. “Don’t be so tense, it’s not good for you.”
“Please keep your hands on the steering wheel,” Royal pulled his hand away into his lap.
“Sorry,” Patrick returned both hands to the steering wheel. They were quiet again until Royal cleared his throat.
“Maybe we could stop by Best Buy anyway? I think I’ve got a couple gift cards to use.”
“Sure,” Patrick nodded. “They’re right next door to each other, practically.”
Royal reached over and turned on the radio to the country station to make the silence between them a little less awkward. The trip to the city wasn’t overly long, but it felt like an eternity. Nothing had ever really been the same since the summer the two of them had fooled around in the field. Jacob, as promised, had forgiven Royal. They’d been back on the right track –totally in love like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off of one another. They didn’t talk about the indiscretion, but all of them remembered it and probably thought about it frequently.
Then, back in January, on their way home from Dan and Jeremy’s weekly poker game, Royal had hit a patch of black ice, spun out the truck and flipped it three times. He’d managed to walk away with only some cuts and a broken leg. Jacob hadn’t put on his seat belt for the ride home and had been thrown through the windshield. The coroner had promised he’d died upon impact, but Royal still blamed himself completely for it. Half the ranch had been signed over to Royal years before, but after the funeral, they found out that Jacob had, instead of leaving his half to Royal, had signed it over to Patrick. He couldn’t tell whether this actually pleased or pissed Royal off, and he hadn’t said a thing about it.
“Do you need help down?”
“I’m not a fucking child, Patrick.”
“Did I say that you were?” Patrick countered. “I don’t want you to fall on your ass and break your other leg okay? You’re enough of a stubborn fucking asshole hobbling around on one broken leg, much less two.
Royal flushed red, “I’m sorry. I just…I hate being treated like an invalid.”
“I know you’re not a gimp, Royal, but just admit that you need help once in awhile, okay? The truck is two and a half feet off the ground and you can’t put full weight on your leg yet. Just wait a second okay.” Royal obliged, waiting for Patrick to move around the truck to help him down.
“Thank you,” Royal’s fingers dug into the sleeve of Patrick’s jacket. It had pretty much stopped raining.
“No problem,” Patrick slipped an arm around his waist. Royal leaned against him, holding him close to him for a moment. He leaned down, his lips brushing Patrick’s temple.
“Why’d you cut it?” His voice was soft. He reached up pulling his fingers through Patrick’s hair. It was considerably shorter, just past his shoulders. Hardly long enough to braid.
Patrick shrugged, “It seemed the right thing to do at the time.”
“When did you do it?” Royal couldn’t look at his face, his fingers trailing through the ends of the thick dark hair.
“About five minutes after I got the call, as soon as I found a pair of scissors.”
“I don’t remember,” Royal shook his head.
“I wish I didn’t.”
“C’mon, we should get your stuff,” Patrick nodded towards the store. He pushed the truck door closed and clicked the remote lock before shoving his keys into his pocket.
Royal slid his hand into Patrick’s jacket pocket as they entered the store. He’d barely left home in the last three months, except for doctor’s visits every week for physical therapy. It wasn’t crowded or busy really. It was an off-season for the store. Royal knew exactly where the drawing supplies were and withdrew from Patrick to pick up three of the mid-sized tablets and two boxes of pencils as well as a case of pens and a couple of large kneaded erasers.
“Do you want anything else?” Patrick offered.
“I don’t think so,” Royal shook his head. “This is enough for now.”
“Okay,” Patrick linked his fingers with Royal’s as they made for the cash register. The line was longer than he anticipated and there seemed to be only one cashier on duty. He didn’t mind though; he was glad Royal was letting him get close to him for once. “You going to tell me what you’re working on?” He nodded towards the supplies.
Royal took a deep breath, “No.”
“All right then…”
“It’s just a comic,” Royal shrugged. “You can’t read it.”
“I didn’t ask to read it,” Patrick chided.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean…you can’t read it until it’s finished.”
“Okay,” Patrick nodded. Royal’s fingers tightened around his.
“Its…my own personal therapy, okay?”
“I understand, Royal. I won’t push you about it.”
Royal hummed, finally stepping up to the cash register. He let go of Patrick’s hand to lay his down his items. The cashier look frazzled and rung them up as quickly as she could. Royal paid with his debit card, his hand hovering for a moment over his previously joint credit card. He sucked in a breath, swiping the debit through the reader and punching in a PIN number.
“You still want to go to Best Buy?” Patrick let him slide his hand back into his after they exited the door.
“Sure,” Royal nodded.
“You want to put those in the truck and then we can walk over?” Patrick suggested.
“Um, sure. Can you put them in? I think I need to sit for a second.” Royal handed him the bag, sinking down on the edge of a concrete ledge along the edge of the store front.
“Okay,” Patrick nodded. He took the bag and walked quickly the misty rain to the truck. He tossed the bag carefully into the backseat of the cab before making his way back over to Royal. “Do you want some aspirin or something for your leg?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt that much.” Royal pushed himself back up onto his feet. “It’s really just kind of an annoyance.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, really, I’m fine Patrick.” Royal reached up, brushing Patrick’s hair out of his face. “You look pretty today.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow, “Pretty? Thanks.”
Royal smiled, “You know what I mean.”
“Don’t do this today, Royal,” Patrick shook his head. He slid his arm into his boss’s and steered him next door to the Best Buy. “What are you looking for? Maybe we should get a couple movies? Or a video game –it’s been awhile since we played any video games.”
“I liked your idea about the Wacom tablet,” Royal admitted. “I still want to draw that freehand, but…for another project, just to play with.”
“Okay,” Patrick nodded. They pushed through the doors and headed for the back of the store to computers. They found the tablets situated near the mice. Royal checked out the specs while Patrick went to look at movies. He selected the second cheapest model –no sense in spending a lot of money on something he wasn’t sure he even knew how to use yet. He didn’t bother looking at software –it came with something basic enough to play with. He stuck the box under his arm and hobbled over to find Patrick.
“Anything good?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘good’,” Patrick looked up at him. “You find something?”
“Something good enough to mess around with a bit,” Royal nodded. “Did you want anything?”
“No,” Patrick shook his head. “We came here for you.”
Royal gave a jerky nod, linking their arms together again, “C’mon, let’s get home.”
“You going to stop being paranoid?” Patrick asked. “And don’t pretend like you aren’t. I won’t let it happen again.” He glanced up at Royal. “You’re safe with me.”
Royal brushed hair out of his eyes. It really was getting too long. “I know that.”
They checked out quickly and made their way back out to the truck. Patrick helped him in without asking for permission and Royal pulled his seatbelt tight as Patrick got into the driver’s side. He rested his hand in the middle of the bench seat and waited for Patrick to lace their fingers together once they were on the road home.
“I have to stop at the supply store,” Patrick reminded him. “Do you want to pick something up for dinner?”
“No,” Royal shook his head.
“Are you sure? We can stop at the diner. I’ll have Wilhelmina wrap us up something for later.”
“If that’s what you want,” Royal shifted his gaze out the window. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“All right,” Patrick nodded. He pulled his hand out of Royal’s as it started to rain again. He flipped on the windshield wipers and his headlights. Royal turned the radio on again as they drove back to Grossling. Patrick pulled the truck up to the feed supply store. He disappeared inside for a few minutes, placing their feed order for the next week and paying up on their bill. He was back in the truck in fifteen minutes and he tried to keep himself from taking a peek at the sketch that Royal had started to amuse himself while he was in the store.
“Any problems?” Royal wasn’t actively hiding the sketch, but he wasn’t showing it off either. He flipped the book closed and stuck his pencil into the binding.
“Nope,” Patrick shook his head. He didn’t ask again, steering the truck towards the local diner. He parked in front and cut the engine to run inside. “You want anything special?”
Royal shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Royal,” Patrick reached up, turning him forcibly to look at him. “What do you want? Something I can’t cook.”
“Umm,” Royal pulled free and reached down to rub his knee. “Country Fried Steak dinner.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute. Keep drawing,” He trailed his hand down his shoulder, lingering for a moment at his fingers. Royal waited until Patrick had entered the diner before opening up the sketch pad again. His pencil sketched out the frame before he started working on drawing the familiar highway where he’d found Patrick.

Patrick shifted on the couch uncomfortably. He’d fallen asleep after dinner watching some sitcom repeat. He thought that Royal had joined him, but a glance at the clock told him that the older man had probably gone to bed. He stretched his arms over his head, stumbling out of the living room. He was about to head up the stairs when he noticed the light on in the office.
“Royal, you still awake?” He knocked on the door before pushing it open. Royal was asleep at the desk, pencil still dangling from his fingers. There were three sketchbooks stacked on the corner of the desk, labeled only with numbers. The new ones he had bought were tossed on the chair in front of the desk. Patrick moved quietly into the room, glancing down at the sketch pad in front of Royal. He smiled, recognizing the image of the kitchen and Hoshi sleeping under the table. He leaned over to read the text.
“Patrick entered our lives quickly. He was cute, gawky, and uncomfortable. We asked only the questions we had to and I think he appreciated that. Like most things that wander onto JJJ Ranch, he’s never left.”
“Royal?” He leaned away from the sketch, putting his hand on his shoulder. Royal jerked, blinking his eyes.
“Wha?”
“You fell asleep,” Patrick leaned against the edge of the desk. “It’s late, you should get into bed.”
Royal nodded, “Right.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No, thank you for waking me up,” Royal set down his pencil in the middle of the sketch and pushed back his chair. “My neck is going to be cricked in the morning.”
“Here,” Patrick stopped him. He reached up and kneaded his fingers on the back of Royal’s neck in little circles. Royal’s breath caught in his throat and his head tipped down. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” Royal edged closer to him pressing his knees between the Indian’s. “…Patrick?”
“Hmm?” His fingers slid to Royal’s collar bone.
“Is it inevitable?”
“Is what inevitable?” Patrick narrowed his eyes in curiosity.
“The two of us.”
“I don’t think I know what you mean.”
“Us –together. Is it inevitable now that…now that he’s gone?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick shook his head. “Isn’t it a little soon for that?”
“Exactly –isn’t it too soon for me to…to even think about it,” Royal’s breath was warm against Patrick’s neck. “It’s only been three months. We were together for thirteen years. But, every time I look at you, I remember what it was like at the beginning.” He looked up, pulling Patrick’s hair through his fingers.
“Royal, c’mon, you’re tired.”
“I need you to read this,” Royal pulled free. He picked up the labeled sketch books and held them out to him. “They’re rough, I started after the accident –after the funeral. The beginning is very rough, I haven’t drawn like this since…I can’t even remember.”
“I don’t need to read this, this is for you,” Patrick shook his head. He wasn’t sure what was inside the sketch books, but if it was anything like what was on the desk…
“Please. If you don’t read it, no one else will. I don’t have anyone else to share it with.”
Patrick nodded, “Okay.” The books felt cold in his hand as he took them. He pressed them to his chest. “I’ll read them.”
Royal nodded, “I’m going to bed then. Good night.”
“Good night, Royal.” Patrick stood back up, watching him head for the stairs. The boot clunked its way up the carpet. He didn’t move until he heard the bedroom door close behind him. He sighed, looking down at the cover of the first sketchbook before making his way to the kitchen. Hoshi looked up at him from his spot on the rug in front of the stove. “We’re in for a long night, Hoshi.” He flipped the switch on the coffee pot and sat down at the table to flip open the first book.

“Royal?”
“Hrm?” Royal groaned. He cracked an eye to look at the clock. 4 AM. “What?”
“I finished.”
Grumble grumble.
“Royal, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever…” Patrick was still brushing tears off his face. “Jacob would be so proud of you.”
“Ugh,” Royal coaxed himself onto his side. “You really spent the last five hours reading that?”
“Yes, once I started, I couldn’t stop,” Patrick sank down onto the bed next to him. “Royal, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That this happened.”
Royal sighed. Patrick obviously wasn’t going to let him go back to sleep. He shifted back onto his back, “Patrick, I didn’t give it to you because I wanted to discuss it afterwards. I just wanted someone to read it.”
“I know, I just…I wanted to tell you that I loved it.”
“Thanks.” Royal squeezed Patrick’s thigh. “I’m glad.”
“About earlier…you asked if it was too soon.”
Royal hummed. His eyes had drifted closed again, but he was pretty awake now.
“Too soon for what?”
Royal sighed through his nose, “Patrick…you know what you do to me.”
“We never talked about that summer –that day,” Patrick shook his head. “I thought we just shoved it under the rug; forgot about it.”
“I never forgot about it,” Royal’s eyes drifted back open. “Jacob knew.” He pushed himself up, dragging his cast up the mattress. He winced as he turned on the bedside lamp and reached into the drawer. He pulled out a worn looking envelope with his name on it and handed it to Patrick. “I found this after.”
Patrick’s hands were shaky as he pulled out the single sheet of paper. Jacob’s handwriting was easily recognizable even though the letter wasn’t signed –it didn’t need to be.
Royal, it’s cliché, but if you’re reading this, chances are I’m gone. I’m not sure how long it will take you find this, and I’m not sure what all there will be for me to have to say when the time comes, so I’ll keep it to the most important thing. You probably know by now that I left my half of the ranch to Patrick instead of you. I hope you’re not upset about that. But there’s a reason for it –I want you two to take care of one another. I don’t know what would have happened that day if you hadn’t gone to see if he was leaving or if he hadn’t told you to go back to me. He always wanted what was best for the two of us, so now I want what’s best for the two of you. I know you love him, maybe in a different way than how you loved me, but it’s there, and with Patrick, you’ll never have to worry about him leaving you. He’s loyal, he’s steady, and he loves you.
“So he gave his blessing, basically?”
“That’s how I interpreted it.”
“Is it true? Do you…do you love me?”
“Of course,” Royal reached over, brushing a lock of hair behind Patrick’s ear. “Different then what it was with Jacob, but…yes, I love you.”
Patrick refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. The drawer slid closed easily and he reached up to turn the lamp back off, casting the room into darkness.
“Patrick?”
“Shh,” Patrick shook his head. He slid onto the bed, careful of Royal’s leg as he straddled his hips. His hair wasn’t long enough to cocoon their faces, but it fell over both of them as he kissed him. Royal’s hands went to his hips, his fingers dipping underneath the waistband of his worn flannel PJ bottoms. It had been almost four years since those ten minutes in the back of the truck, but he could still remember every inch his fingers had touched. Patrick reached down, pulling Royal’s hands away, lacing fingers with him. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” Royal was breathing heavily as Patrick shifted back onto his heels.
“Royal, it’s only been three months. I don’t want you to jump into anything. Plus, your leg, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s fine,” Royal assured him. “And you won’t hurt me, just stay exactly where you are.”
“Not now,” Patrick was adamant. “Later. Right now, I just want to kiss you.”
“Okay but, that’s really only going to hold me over for so long,” Royal grinned.
“I know,” Patrick grinned. He ran his fingers across Royal’s scruffy cheeks. “And any other night, I might say go for it, but…I haven’t slept at all.”
“Well then, Royal reached across the bed, pulling back the covers on the empty side of the bed. “Crawl in.”
Patrick opened his mouth to protest but Royal stopped him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him next to him in bed. “Royal, be careful!”
“Patrick, I broke my leg. I didn’t get shot or crack any ribs,” Royal sighed. “And aside from the stupid cast and dull throbbing reminder every so often, I’m fine –really.” He shifted back down under the covers, pulling them up over them. “Get some sleep.”
Patrick nodded. He slid closer across the cotton sheets to Royal’s side, linking their fingers together. Royal didn’t let himself drift back to sleep until he felt Patrick relax next to him.

JJJ Ranch: Short Story #1

Patrick Duncan’s truck knew every bump and pothole on the way to the Triple J ranch. The back end was filled with barbed wire and fence posts that lurched as the tires moved from pavement to gravel down the driveway of the ranch owned by his surrogate parents –Royal Greves and Jacob Trenton. He’d gone to college a few hours away on scholarships gotten a degree in Agriculture and then come back to work full-time at the Triple J. Since Theresa and Kennedy had moved closer to the older Greves, he’d moved into the old Foreman’s house and nothing much else had really changed.
He was twenty-three now. His hair was still pulled back into the simple braid, although it was much longer now, trailing almost all the way down to his butt. He was still as slim and defined as that wiry teenager that Royal had taken pity on at the side of the road that rainy August day seven year ago. The idea of leaving had entered his head a few times over those years, but he’d never done it, and they’d never asked him about it. It was just assumed that he was staying, like most everything that wandered onto the Triple J.
“Hey,” Royal was playing fetching with Hoshi and Sophia in the dirt between the houses. “You have any problems with the pick-up?”
“Nope,” Patrick slid out of the truck, shoving his keys into his pocket. “Marcy said to stop by later this week with the rest of the payment.”
“Good, good,” Royal nodded. He pitched the ball a little farther, sending the dogs scampering towards the barn. “Why don’t you take a break and get some lunch –there’s some leftovers in the house if you’re interested.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” Patrick pulled down the tailgate and started transferring the materials to the beat-up farm truck to take them out into the field. “I’ll get started later. Kentucky and I wanted to get repairs done quick as possible; he wants to get home before six tonight or the wife is going to be pissed.”
“All right, but don’t forget to eat. You’re too skinny,” Royal gave him a grin. He pitched the ball one more time before moving to help him with the transfer.
“You only say that ‘cause you’ve certainly started packing on the pounds,” Patrick patted Royal’s stomach. “Maybe you need to start cutting back on the butter, huh?”
“Shut up,” Royal stuck out his tongue. “You’re cheeky for a kid…”
Patrick shrugged and let the conversation drop, focusing on moving the heavy materials. Once they had finished, he slapped the back of the trucks tailgates closed again, and wiped his arm across his forehead. Even with his hair pulled back in the long braid, he was hot.
“So, hot dates lately?” Royal took the ball that Hoshi was pushing into his leg, trying to get him to play again. “We haven’t seen you around the last couple of days.”
“Hardly,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Just earning my keep around here.”
“You shouldn’t work so hard,” Royal shook his head, the ball arcing toward the barn again.
“Gotta pay you guys back some how.”
“Well, you’ve got as much time as you need to do that; not that we’re asking you to,” Royal reminded him. “Try and relax once in awhile. Get laid; you could use it.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, “Well, I think Grossling is all out of gay guys, so…”
“There’s other places to meet people, men. Besides, I heard Derek Zimmerman is back in town.”
“The last person I want to see is Derek Zimmerman,” Patrick scoffed. “He was fun for about five minutes in high school and I doubt he’s changed very much.”
“No one said you had to fall in love; just…have some fun.”
Patrick hummed, adjusting his hat, “Well, I don’t think I’m going to have fun with a little frat boy like Derek, Royal. But, your suggestion has been heard.”
“That’s all I ask, I suppose.” Royal lifted up his shirt and wiped the sweat off his brow. Patrick averted his eyes, feeling the familiar attraction he felt every time he got a look at Royal’s goods –he found Jacob attractive too, but not nearly as much as Royal. Maybe his surrogate-father was right: he really did need to get laid, and soon. “Come in for dinner around six. I’m making fried chicken.”
“Okay,” Patrick agreed. “I better get out to the fence. Kentucky is probably waiting for me.”
“All right. Be careful –don’t forget your gloves.”
“I won’t,” Patrick sighed. Royal was a good father figure; it was a shame he and Jacob hadn’t gone through the motions of actually raising a child.
Royal and Hoshi walked back toward the house and Patrick climbed into the old truck to make his way out to the field. For once, he wasn’t looking forward to getting his hands dirty. Being out in the open, even with a partner, gave him way too much time to daydream and think…which, when you haven’t had sex in over a year, can get a little too vivid…

“How’d the fencing go?” Royal was just setting the table as Patrick entered the main house by the front door. He took off his hat, hanging it up on a peg before entering the kitchen.
“Good, we finished the west side and got about half-way through the north-side,” he smoothed his palm over the top of his head, smoothing his hair. His braid swished as he took a seat in his usual place at the table. “Where’s Jacob?” He noticed that Royal was only setting two places at the table.
He noticed the little tic in Royal’s jaw as he shrugged, “He’s probably in the office, playing WoW or something.”
“…Are you guys okay?” Patrick had seen them through a few ups-and-downs over the last few years, but it had never lasted very long. Every time he heard them fight –usually over something trivial, he couldn’t help but get this huge ball of tension in his stomach.
“Sure,” Royal nodded. “We’re fine, just…” he trailed off, moving dishes from the counter to the table –a plate of perfectly fried chicken, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, biscuits, and a salad. “You don’t want to hear about our marital problems.”
“I wouldn’t, but you’re not married, so it’s OK,” Patrick gave him a cocky grin. “Really, I’m old enough to take it –I’m not your kid, you can dump your issues on me.”
Royal sighed, sliding into the seat across from him, “I think we’re just…growing apart. Not that we don’t love each other, just that…we need something fresh.”
Patrick gave a little nod, starting to fill up his plate, “Maybe it’s time to take a vacation –you guys have been talking about it. You’ve only been together for ten years; it’s too early to split up.”
Royal smirked, shaking his head, “Smartass. And besides, we can’t afford a vacation right now.”
“Everything still good in the bedroom?”
“Honestly, we haven’t done anything but sleep in there in about three months.”
“What about the living room?”
Royal gave a little chuckle, shaking his head, “Nope, nothing going on in there either.”
“Shit, that’s your favorite spot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
They were quiet while they finished loading up their plates. Patrick took a few bites before he spoke up again. “You think you’re just, I don’t know, bored?”
“Maybe,” Royal shrugged, sampling a bit himself. “We’ve been together ten years, of course we’re a little bored. We know each other’s ins-and-outs. It’s just, how do you get…unbored? Other couples would be having kids, which we don’t really want, or have work or projects, things to that keep them separately grounded. We’ve only got each other, this ranch, this house. And lately, this house feels like a prison.”
“That’s nice,” Jacob entered the kitchen. “Love you too, Babe.” He didn’t even look at the table before walking to the fridge and taking out a beer.
“You can’t walk into the middle of a conversation, Jacob,” Royal followed him with his eyes, soaking up the grey flannel pants and red t-shirt. Jacob’s feet were bare, padding softly on the tile.
“I don’t have to hear the whole conversation to know you’re bitching about me again,” He cracked the top of the beer, flipping the cap onto the counter.
“Would you like some dinner? I figured you were playing your game.”
“I’m not hungry,” Jacob took a short pull from the longneck, leaning against the countertop.
Patrick shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His braid pulled over his shoulder, and he turned the end around in his fingers, in his lap. He could sense the tension in the air, and it was like he was breathing it in, letting it settle in his lungs and just press down on top of him.
“Well, unless you’re just going to stand there and stare us, why don’t you sit down at least?” Royal suggested.
“No, I’m busy –doing actual work, thanks. My life isn’t all fun and games as you seem to think it is,” Jacob pushed up from where he leaned. “Patrick, can you come in the office when you’re done eating?”
“Sure,” Patrick nodded. The weight on his chest just got heavier. “What do you need?”
“Just some tax information; I’m re-doing the payroll info in a new program and I think I misplaced some of your information.”
Patrick nodded. At least he wasn’t getting fired.
Jacob didn’t say anything else, wandering back out of the kitchen. Even once he was gone, the pressure didn’t go away. Royal was stabbing his fork into his chicken, not really looking at him when he cleared his throat.
“I don’t like it when you guys fight; it never seems right. It makes me anxious,” he admitted.
“Don’t let it worry you,” Royal promised. “We’ve fought before and we always get through it.”
“I know,” Patrick nodded. “But like you said, you guys are here all the time. Maybe you just need some time apart?”
“Maybe,” Royal nodded.
“If you need some space, I’ve got extra room,” he nodded towards the general direction of the Foreman’s House across the yard. “A couple nights apart might do you some good.”
“I think we need to have a serious talk before we go quite that far, but thank you for the offer.”
“Any time,” Patrick shrugged.
Royal pushed his plate away and took a drink of his water before pushing up from the table. “You can go ahead and leave your plate when you’re done; I’ll take care of it.”
“Where are you going?”
“Gotta go feed the cats and check on the new babies,” Royal washed his hands at the sink and dried them on a dish towel. “Don’t forget about Jacob.”
“I won’t,” Patrick could still feel that pressure on his chest. He hoped this would all blow over soon; he hated this feeling.
Royal left the kitchen off the back porch and disappeared towards the barn. Patrick shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth before pushing up from the table. He took his and Royal’s plates to the sink, and found room in the fridge for the leftovers before making his way into the office. He knocked on the doorframe and Jacob looked up from the computer screen.
“Hey,” Jacob gave him a smile and waved him in. “Sorry about earlier…”
“It’s okay,” Patrick took a seat in the chair across from the desk. “What did you need for my tax info?”
“Just fill this out –it’s easier to plug it in off the sheet,” He handed him a clipboard and a pen. “Is he still pissed?” He nodded towards the kitchen.
“I don’t think he’s pissed; I think he’s upset, but I can’t really say what’s bothering him,” Patrick started plugging in information on the sheet. “You want to give me your two-cents?”
Jacob shrugged, “He’s right –we’re just tired of being together, I guess.”
“Tired of being together or of each other?”
“Both maybe –he’s right, this house is a prison and we’ve both signed on for a life sentence.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Patrick shrugged. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, take a break. Re-access your relationship, see if you can withstand another ten years together.”
“I think we should just start fucking other people, that’d take off some of the sexual tension at least,” Jacob raked his fingers through his hair. “But you don’t want to hear about that.”
Patrick gave a little laugh, shaking his head, “Well, I’m not surprised –but, if you both want to do it, why aren’t you? I remember a time when you guys could barely keep your hands off one another, and now…it’s like, every time I see you, it’s just…hostile.”
“I’m sorry,” Jacob shook his head. “I guess a lot of it is just time –whenever I want to do it, he’s not interested, when he wants to do it, I’m not interested. It used to be easy to cajole a quick fuck out of one another, but…now it’s like been-there-done-that. I’m not saying I don’t love him, I do –just as much if not more then when we met. I just…you get sick of sleeping next to the same person every single night.”
“I wouldn’t know that problem,” Patrick shook his head. “I envy you guys; I wish I could feel the way you do right now.”
“Don’t,” Jacob shook his head. “It was fun for the first seven years. The last three…not so much fun.”
“I’d give anything to even keep someone for that long,” Patrick handed him back the completed clipboard. “You guys have something special; rivaled only by your brother and Dan. You’ll work it out.” He pushed up from the chair and flipped his braid back over his shoulder. “If either one of you needs space, and I already told Royal this, I’ve got plenty of room at my place. Maybe a couple days apart would do you guys some good? Talk it over –don’t argue, but talk it over.” He shoved his hands into his pockets before striding out of the office. He was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, but sometimes that was what those two needed.
Royal leaned in the doorway to the office after he saw Patrick go back to his place. He’d watched him, toss his hat down onto the kitchen counter and pull a can of soda out of the fridge before plopping down on the couch, through the window. Jacob glanced up at him from where he was filling in the missing information from Patrick’s tax information.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he repeated. He looked away as Royal took the seat that Patrick had vacated.
The silence between them spoke volumes. Love, torment, pain, boredom, even panic, and especially worry. Neither was ready to call to quits, but at the same time…
“I’m sorry for earlier,” Jacob finally pushed away from the computer. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Royal shook his head, “You weren’t meant to hear that; I would have snapped too.”
“But you were right; I don’t like hearing it, but…this house is a prison,” Jacob folded his hands behind his head. “I don’t know what to do, Royal. I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t know either. If there were anything, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Royal assured him. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “But, babe, I just…I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“I know,” Jacob nodded.
“I love you, you know that. The last thing I want in the world is to call this over, but…lately, it feels like that’s the only option left.”
“I don’t want to end it either,” Jacob stood up, moving around the desk to lean in front of his long-time lover. “So, let’s not say that.”
“Then what do you want, Jacob?”
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Just…a break. Some time apart from being ‘us’. I don’t want you to leave, Royal. You are essential to everything that goes on around here. We said when we started that if anything happened, nothing else would change and I want to stand by that now.”
“I understand,” Royal nodded. “I agree. You’d crash and burn and if you tried to do this on your own now,” he smiled to let him know that he was joking.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight,” Jacob reached out, running his hands through Royal’s hair. His fingers trailed across his temples and then down his cheek. He was just starting to get a little scruff around his jaw line that prickled at his fingers.
“You don’t have to do that,” Royal shook his head. He reached up, his fingers wrapping around Jacob’s wrist. He turned his face into his palm, pressing his lips against Jacob’s fingers. “Patrick offered me a place to crash, I’ll go over there.”
“You don’t have to,” Jacob shook his head. “We have room here.”
“I need to get out of the house,” Royal pushed up from the chair. He pressed his forehead against Jacob’s, looking down into his eyes. His fingers pressed to Jacob’s hips and he held him close. “Just for a little while.”
Jacob opened his mouth to say something, then promptly closed it again.
“What?” Royal pressed.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Babe,” Royal gave a small shake of his head. “I’m not leaving, I’m just going next door.”
Jacob’s eyes cast downward. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he nodded, “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“I’m just going to grab some clothes; I have to be up early in the morning,” he pressed his lips to Jacob’s temple. “Eat something, please?”
Jacob nodded, “Okay.”
“And don’t drink anymore tonight,” Royal chided. He tilted Jacob’s chin up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I know that’s your third one.”
Jacob gave a short nod, “I know.”
Royal kissed him again, a harder one this time, longer and a little lazier. When he broke it off, he brushed his thumb over Jacob’s lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll make you lunch,” he nuzzled Jacob’s neck, breathing in his smell. “And maybe…maybe things will look different.”
“I think it will take more than one night, Royal.”
“I know,” Royal sighed. He made himself take a step back and stop touching his now former (he supposed) lover. “I, uh, I’m just going to go grab some stuff and then I’ll be out of here, okay?”
Jacob nodded, sinking back onto the edge of the desk. He kept his eyes down as Royal exited the office and took the stairs to their bedroom. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and rubbed his palms against his eyes, willing back the tears that were threatening to spill. He didn’t leave the office until he heard Royal leave a few minutes later. Then he left himself back in to the kitchen. Hoshi padded out of the laundry room to see what was up. He pushed his nose into Jacob’s leg and looked up expectantly at him.
Jacob gave him a smile, and reached down to pat his head, “C’mon Hoshi, we can curl up on the couch and watch TV.” He went to the fridge for one last beer before following through on the offer.

Patrick looked up from the book he’d started reading when he heard the three short raps on the door. No one ever knocked around here; ever. They just let themselves in. He was half-way to the door when it opened and Royal stuck his head inside.
“Hey, sorry –ah, your offer still stands, right?” He lifted up the small duffle he’d tossed some clothes and his toothbrush in.
“Of course,” Patrick nodded. “That was quick.”
“Yeah, well…” Royal shrugged. He set his bag down by the door and closed the door behind himself. “I’m a little confused about what just happened to be honest. I’m not sure if we’re still together, or just cooling off. Nothing was really decided.”
“I’m sorry,” Patrick gave him a brave smile. “You want a drink? You look like you could use one.”
“Why do you have alcohol? You don’t drink,” Royal teased.
“Yeah, but I know people who do. What do you want? Beer? Whiskey? Rum? Tequila?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Royal yawned, stretching his arms behind his head. Patrick turned his eyes upward as his shirt rose to expose a sliver of flat stomach. “I think I actually want to get some sleep.”
“Sure, the second bedroom is all made up,” Patrick nodded towards the stairs. “It’s kind of early though, isn’t it?”
“I’ve got to be up early in the morning.” Royal shook his head. “Kentucky has off, so I’ll be helping you out with the fencing.”
“Okay,” Patrick nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“G’night –and thanks, for being understanding about this whole thing. I know, this is probably the last thing you want to be involved in.”
“I just want you guys to be happy again,” Patrick shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Any way I can help out.”
“You’re a great help,” Royal assured him. “Just keep being you, kid.” He pressed his palm to the top of Patrick’s head. He hesitated for a second before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t stay up too late; you’re working hard tomorrow.”
Patrick felt the familiar flush rise up his cheeks that he got every time Royal got close to him. “I won’t, I promise.” He felt like the gawky seventeen year old again.
“G’night,” Royal picked his bag up, hoisting it over his shoulder. Patrick watched him move up the stairs. Suddenly, he really felt like he could use a drink; which was ironic given that he’d never had alcohol in his entire life.
He heard the door to the extra bedroom upstairs close and he padded back into the living room, sitting back down on the couch. He sighed, pulling his braid over his shoulder and unwrapping the rubber band. He pulled his fingers through the braid, loosening his hair. It held the faintest of familiar weaves and he pulled his brush out of the side drawer to pull it through the ends before pulling his fingers all the way through it. He let it fall down around his shoulders, wrapping around his shoulders as he leaned back, resting his head on the squishy back of the couch. He’d sit down here long enough to let Royal fall asleep, then he’d try and catch some shut-eye himself.

“Sleep well?” Royal was in the kitchen making breakfast when Patrick rolled out of bed at seven AM. “Hope you don’t mind; I just took it upon myself to cook.”
Patrick shook his head, “No, it’s all right.” He went and poured himself a mug of coffee. He dumped in a spoonful of sugar and some vanilla-flavored creamer before taking a sip. His hair was still damp, making his shirt stick to his back. He set his mug down on the counter before reaching up to divide his hair into three parts. His hands moved of their own accord until he could wrap the band around the end. He flipped it back over his shoulder.
“You look good with your hair down,” Royal offered him a plate, stacked with pancakes, eggs, and a few pieces of bacon.
“Thanks; I’ve been thinking about chopping it off though. It’s almost getting too long for me to braid myself.”
“No, don’t do that,” Royal couldn’t help but reach out, pulling the braid through his fingers. “It suits you too much. “
Patrick felt the warmth rising up through his stomach. He could smell the farm on Royal –a mixture of dirt, hay, straw, and cow. He barely noticed it anymore, but so up-close-and-personal…it was possibly one of the best smells in the entire world.
“I hear that a lot,” he took a step back, setting the plate down on the table and taking a seat. He picked up a fork and took a first bite. “Oh man, this is good.”
Royal smiled, sitting down across from him with his own plate, “Nothing special.”
“When you live on my cooking, anything is spectacular,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Instant Ramen, pasta, and the occasional pizza.”
“You know you can eat with us at the main house any time you want,” Royal reminded him.
“I know,” Patrick shrugged. He poured some syrup over the top of his pancakes before cutting into the stack.
“So, everyone is fed, horses are in the corral. Sam and Matthew are out cutting hay so we’re doing the rest of the fence ourselves today.”
“Okay,” Patrick nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
They continued to eat in silence for a bit longer. Royal finished first, standing up as he drained the last of his glass of orange juice.
“I’ll meet you outside in five?” He carried his plate to the sink.
“Sure, let me clean up in here and I’ll be right out.” Patrick shoved the last piece of pancake into his mouth. Royal gave him a nod before putting his hat on and making his way out the door. Patrick moved quickly, scrubbing the plates and utensils they had used clean. Once he had put everything to dry in the dish drainer, he slapped on his own cap, and tromped down the porch steps towards the waiting truck. Royal was just securing the tool box into the back with the rest of the materials.
“Ready to go?” Royal slammed the tailgate shut.
“Yep,” Patrick tilted his hat back a bit, and shoved his well-used gloves into his back pocket. “Let’s get going.” He slid into the passenger side of the truck –it was no question: Royal would drive. Royal always drove.
They didn’t talk very much once they got to the end of the fence line where he and Kentucky had finished off the night before. They worked in a relative silence, just offering direction to each other once in awhile. After an hour or so of working, Patrick sighed, tossing down his wire cutter and stopping to take a drink of water from the large 2-quart cooler. The ice swished around in the cooler as he lifted the spigot to his lips.
“Taking a break already? Slacker,” Royal teased.
“I can’t help it; it’s getting hot out here,” Patrick took off his hat and brushed his arm across his forehead. “You want some?” He held out the cooler.
“Sure,” Royal pushed up from the ground, joining him by the tailgate. He sucked down a few gulps, and for once Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way a few drops spilled past his lips and down his jaw. Royal didn’t seem to notice, closing the spigot and setting the cooler back down on the tailgate. He wiped his forearm against his mouth before the droplets could trail down his throat. “…You okay?”
Patrick blinked, shaking his head, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Royal couldn’t stop the smirk. “You stare at me a lot, but uh…usually you turn away when I’m doing something really sexy.”
Patrick flushed. His mouth opened to reply, but he wasn’t sure what to say.
“It’s cute –I’ve always thought it was cute,” Royal assured him. He pulled his gloves off, shoving them into his back pocket. He shifted himself in front of Patrick, pushing the younger man into the tailgate of the truck. “I’ve always thought you were cute. Pretty, which isn’t something I usually go for.” He reached up, pulling Patrick’s braid over his shoulder. “And your hair…fuck, kid, your hair.”
Patrick’s mouth dropped open, not sure what to say.
“It’s been awhile, right?” Royal’s face was close, lips brushing his ear. “I mean, you don’t go out much, I’ve met every boy you’ve ever slept with, just about. I assume, anyway.”
“Royal, what are you doing?” Patrick’s was barely a whisper. His gloved hands tightened around the edge of the tailgate.
“Nothing,” Royal gave a little head shake. He moved his hands to Patrick’s waist.
Patrick licked his lips, “Royal, this doesn’t really feel like nothing.”
“What does it feel like then?”
“It feels like you want me to help you cheat on Jacob.”
“Hard to cheat on Jacob when we’re not exactly together, isn’t it?” Royal’s lips pressed to a spot just under his ear. Patrick bit his tongue, his head tilting back somewhat involuntarily. It was odd how he knew exactly the spot that made him go the most weak-kneed, right off the bat.
“But you didn’t break it off officially,” Patrick reminded him. “You love him.”
Royal hummed, “I do love him.” His fingers moved under the hem of Patrick’s t-shirt, feeling the definition of his abs. “And that won’t change.”
“Then why are you doing this –why are you pulling me in to it?” Patrick finally reached up, pushing his hands against Royal’s stomach.
“I’m sorry,” Royal shook his head a little harder. “You’re right, I shouldn’t do that to you.” He swallowed, taking a step back. “Maybe we should just get back to work.” This time it was Royal who averted his eyes, moving back toward the fence as he pulled his gloves back out of his pocket. “Sorry.”
Patrick bit his lip, pausing for a moment before pushing off the truck. He couldn’t look in Royal’s direction as he pulled up his tools again, getting back to work. The silence between them was uncomfortable; not something either was used to in each other’s company. Patrick kept playing the scene over and over in his head, trying to figure out why he’d put a stop to it. He’d wanted to know what it was like to be Royal since he was seventeen years old. He’d even slept with a few guys who looked like him, just to see what it would be like, but he’d never let himself dream that it would be possible to get a chance with the real thing.
But what was it that Jacob had said the night before? “I think we should start fucking other people.” Had they actually discussed it, agreed to an open relationship? Or did they have a fight about it and Jacob had fessed up to the idea? There were too many unanswered questions, and he didn’t have enough gall to ask them up front.
“C’mon,” Royal finally broke the silence around midday. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
“Sure.” Patrick nodded. He tossed their extra barbed wire into the back of the truck, making sure that none of the little bits got left in the tall grass for the cows to step on, or worse swallow. They repacked their tools, and Patrick could feel the warm rise up his arm every time their skin brushed in the shared area.
“Shit, Patrick, don’t make it weird between us now,” Royal sighed, feeling him flinch. “You know things are strained between Jacob and I right now. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He sighed, stepping back, putting a few feet between them. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Patrick shook his head, “I don’t blame you or anything.” He gave him a hesitant smile, “I’m pretty hot.”
Royal shook his head, “Don’t tease me, kid. You have no idea how fast I could have you over the back of that truck.”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Patrick shrugged. “But you won’t, no matter how much I tease, because…you’re faithful.” He shoved his gloves into his back pocket. “You wouldn’t do that to Jacob, not unless you had talked about it, which I doubt you did.”
“No,” Royal shook his head. “We didn’t talk about…other people. Just that we needed some separation.”
“Then until you do,” Patrick got up the gall to step up, looking Royal straight in the face, “I’m perfectly safe.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Royal’s fingers tightened around his jaw, nudging his face upward. “I don’t care too much about pleasing Jacob at the moment.” His lips brushed Patrick’s. It was subtle, but even Patrick could read the want in it. He sucked softly on Patrick’s bottom lip before breaking it off. “Jacob doesn’t make my decisions for me. I wouldn’t think twice about it, and I wouldn’t feel sorry about it afterwards.”
“Are you sure?”
Royal nodded, “Positive.”
“Then if it’s what you want, just do it,” Patrick shrugged. “I won’t say anything; won’t stop you.”
“It’s not any fun unless you want it too,” Royal’s fingers pulled at Patrick’s belt. “Don’t make it so easy to molest you.”
“Who says I don’t want it?” Patrick shrugged. “You obviously know how you make me feel. How you’ve always made me feel. You think this was all just a matter of time, right?”
“Shut up and stop asking for it,” Royal kissed him again, harder this time. His fingers linked into his belt loops, pulling him close. Patrick could feel the outline of his hard-on, pressing into his thigh. Patrick found himself lifted up onto the tailgate. He hit the toolbox and groaned. Royal reached up, shoving it skittering backwards into the truck. It fell over, making a loud metallic spilling sound, but the latch stayed firmly closed. Royal jerked him lower onto the back of the truck and Royal pulled his belt out of the loops, tossing it aside in to the grass. His lips grazed Patrick’s stomach as he jerked his jeans down his hips. Patrick’s fingers clenched around fistfuls of Royal’s hair and his mouth fell open in a gasp as he felt the hot, wet mouth wrap around him.
“Shh,” Royal coaxed. He stroked a hand up Patrick’s chest, pushing him back into the truck bed. Patrick’s hat fell back, rolling away. His mouth was expert and his hands were very well skilled too. Patrick didn’t feel like he could do anything but just let it happen. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to do anything. It had been way too long since the last time he’d done anything like this and it felt too good to let anything but the prospect of a good time sway him.
“Whaa?” He looked up as Royal pulled away. He leaned up on his elbows, ignoring the pain as his elbow scrapped against a stray piece of barbed wire. It was worth it as he watched Royal pull himself up onto the tailgate, already easing his own jeans down his hips. Patrick bit his tongue, his eyes following Royal’s hands as he pulled free of his jeans. He was hard already, at full attention. He didn’t even touch himself, pressing his palms against the grooved bed of the truck.
“Shit,” Patrick breathed as their members pressed together between their bodies. Royal silenced him with another kiss. He rocked their bodies together and practically devoured the younger man’s mouth, dipping his tongue past his lips and savoring the new taste. Patrick moaned, totally helpless. He hissed through his teeth as the sharp edge of the barbed wire scrapped his arm again. Royal didn’t notice; or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. Patrick wrapped his arms around Royal’s shoulders, really kissing back for the first time.
It wasn’t about release all of a sudden. Not for him anyway. This was going to be short lived and he had to get everything out while he had the chance. His fingers moved underneath Royal’s shirt, wanting to feel every chiseled crevice, memorizing every solid inch. Just this one solitary experience would supply him enough fodder for a lot of interesting evenings alone.
“Close,” Royal whispered in his ear. He was heavy, pressing against him harder.
“Me too.” Patrick trailed to his hips, holding tightly, coaxing the rocking motion. He squeezed his eyes closed as he felt it –Royal’s first real shot, smearing across his stomach. He wasn’t far behind, perfectly timed to go. Royal was breathing heavily as he leaned up. He stroked himself a few times as he softened. He licked his lips, looking down at the mess they’d made –mostly on Patrick, almost none of it on him. He hiked his jeans back up over his hips, edging back down off the tailgate. His mouth went to the smears, licking Patrick’s taught belly clean. He didn’t say anything once every last trace was gone, taking a step back. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and turned away, moving around the truck to get in behind the steering wheel.
Patrick sat frozen for a minute before lifting up his hips to pull his jeans back up into place. He sighed, looking at the blood trickling down his arm. He picked up his hat, pressing it back on top of his head. He’d just had a really good time, so…why did he suddenly feel like such a fucking jackass?
--
“You’re bleeding,” Jacob was astute as always as the two walked into the kitchen. “What happened?”
“It’s just a scrape,” Patrick couldn’t even look at him as he went to the sink, twisting his arm around to rinse off the blood trail in the sink. He hissed through his teeth, looking at the damage. So, it was a little more than a scrape, but it wasn’t deep, and it certainly wasn’t life threatening.
“I’ll go get the first aid kid,” Jacob glanced between the two of them. He could feel that something was wrong. Really, really wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. He disappeared to the laundry room.
“I’m sorry,” Royal kept his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Patrick nodded. “Not your fault, I shouldn’t have just tossed it up in the truck bed like that anyway.”
“I’m not talking about that and you know it.” Royal turned Patrick’s face up to look him in the eye.
“Royal, I’m twenty-three years old. I can handle it,” Patrick pulled free and turned away from him again just as Jacob walked back into the kitchen with the first aid kit. He paused, looking at the both of them again.
“Am I missing something here?” He set the white box down on the counter, unclipping the latches to flip open the top. He opened the bottle of peroxide and poured it over the back of Patrick’s arm. It fizzed and the wounds turned white around the edges.
“Everything is fine,” Royal shrugged. “We just weren’t careful with some of the little bits, it was an accident.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Jacob’s face was hard as he looked up at Royal. Patrick bit his tongue. There it was: the fighting again. “What happened out there? Are you two fighting now too?”
“No,” Patrick assured him in that quiet tone he’d perfected. “Please, Jacob.”
Jacob sucked in a breath, pouring more peroxide onto the wounds. Once they cleared around the edges, he screwed the cap back on, putting it back in the first aid kit. He wrapped a few layers of gauze around Patrick’s arm before taking out a roll of the purple latex vet-wrap that they used on the animals. It stuck to itself, making a good bandage that pretty much nothing could get through. When he was finished, he re-latched the first aid kit.
“I don’t believe you –either of you,” he crossed his arms across his chest. “So, tell me what the hell’s got this fuckin’ weird vibe going on between the two of you.”
“Jacob,” Patrick sighed, pressing his hand against the wrap. His arm was starting to ache. He was pretty sure he was up-to-date on his vaccinations, and the barbed wire had been new, thank goodness, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting like a bitch.
“You do something?” Jacob addressed him as Royal ignored him, pulling out leftovers from the night before to fix lunch. “C’mon, I should know, right? I’m your boss.”
“Jacob,” Royal’s issued warning. “Stop it.”
“What did you do? You don’t do that on purpose –c’mon, what is it?” Jacob ignored him. “You gonna tell me a story –you tripped in a rabbit hole, fell on some stray pieces?”
“I fucked him, okay?” Royal snapped, slapping the Tupperware bowl of salad onto the counter. “I did it; we were in the back of the truck. He caught his arm, probably when I got on top of him. Is that what you want?”
Jacob’s eyes flickered for just a second, before his face hardened, “Well, that was fast.”
“Jacob,” Patrick felt a new kind of panic in his chest –starting right at his heart. “It was…it was my fault. He wasn’t going to, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut; I basically coerced him. It…don’t, please?” He could feel the tears at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He turned, striding as quickly as he could out of the kitchen. He was blind, but his feet took him down the porch stairs and across the yard. The screen door slapped closed behind him, and he slammed the thick wooden door closed. The alcove by the door was the only place in the house, not visible from any window. He sank down the door and let the tears fall down his cheeks. He almost never cried, especially not over something so trivial. He was just an under-developed supporting character in Royal and Jacob’s lives; he shouldn’t be taking this so hard. He pressed his palms to his eyes, waiting for the dampness to dry.
Back in the kitchen, neither Royal nor Jacob had moved. They heard the door slam across the yard and Royal made the slightest of flinches.
“Why would you do that?” Jacob’s voice was quiet. “Why do that to him? He’s just a kid –he thinks the world of you. He’d never stand up to you; or was that it? You knew it would be easy?”
“Fuck you,” Royal shook his head. “You don’t think I know it was wrong? It was fucking five minutes ago and I already know it was a mistake.”
“Don’t say that,” Jacob shook his head. “You never tell him that it was a mistake.” He took a step toward Royal. His hand twisted in the front of his shirt. “He’s only a kid, Royal. He’s been in love with you since the day you picked him up on the side of the road.”
“He stopped me at first,” Royal’s voice was quiet. “Then, like he said, he brought it upon himself. But it was my idea; I didn’t have to give in to him. I don’t regret it at all. I enjoyed it.”
“Asshole,” Jacob let go of his shirt. Royal’s head jerked with the force of the open-handed slap. He lifted his hand to do it again, but he hesitated for just a moment before stopping. His hand fell heavily to his side. “You know…I wouldn’t even be so pissed off about this if it had been anyone but him. You didn’t just fuck me over today, Royal. You might have just lost him too.”
Royal bit his tongue, leaning back against the counter as Jacob walked away from him. He closed his eyes as the porch door slapped shut. He could hear the gravel crunch under Jacob’s boots as he walked away. He sighed, running his hands across his face and through his hair. For about ten minutes of pleasure, he’d probably just fucked up anything good that had ever happened to him.

“Patrick, open the fucking door,” Jacob sighed. His hands pressed to his hips, and he squeezed his eyes closed, listening for him, but he couldn’t hear a thing. “Goddamn it, Patrick, I know you’re there and I know you can hear me.” He sighed again, a little louder this time. “Patrick, I’m not angry at you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Patrick’s voice didn’t really back up the statement.
“C’mon…let me in.”
“No.”
“Patrick, c’mon, you’re pissing me off.”
“Jacob, I don’t –I can’t.”
“Are you okay?” Jacob squashed down the battling feelings welling up in his chest. Priorities. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No,” Patrick couldn’t even keep the disbelief out of his voice. “God no.”
“You swear? You’d tell me if he did, right?”
“Jacob, I’m twenty-three fucking years old.” He could hear Patrick edging up from the floor and he jerked open the door. His face, usually so proud looking, was tear-stained. His skin was coated in a fine layer of dirt from being outside working, and the trails down his cheek were marked clean. “I’m not a child.”
“I know that,” Jacob assured him.
“I did this, not him.”
Jacob didn’t argue.
“He came on to me, I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. I did at first –I couldn’t help myself.”
“Patrick, this isn’t your fault.”
“Yes it is,” he pushed open the screen door. Jacob stepped inside the entryway. “I shouldn’t have…we didn’t really even have sex, Jacob. I mean, we were out in the field. We didn’t have lube, or condoms, and you know Royal would never –not even with me.”
“I know,” Jacob reached for him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know.” Patrick pressed his face into his neck, the tears starting up again.
“He told me he loved you.”
Jacob bit his tongue, patting the back of his head, “I know he does.”
“I don’t know what to do, Jacob,” Patrick pulled free from him.
“Don’t be anything but you,” Jacob shook his head. “Why don’t you get something to eat, and keep yourself busy out in the barn this afternoon? I’ll go back out to the fence with Royal.”
Patrick nodded. His fingers clamped around his arm again, the dull ache still not subsiding. “Okay.”
“I’m not mad, Patrick,” Jacob repeated his earlier statement. “And I’m certainly not mad at you.”
“Okay,” Patrick nodded again.
Jacob opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “You might not make a whole heck of a lot of sense of everything right now, but…you’ll understand later.”
“What are you gonna do?” Patrick asked. He started down at their shoes –he was wearing steel-toed sneakers while Jacob had donned a pair of Red Wing work boots.
“What do you mean?”
“What’s going to happen?” Patrick looked up. “Between you and Royal, between the three of us –it’s all changed now. We can’t have that faux-father-son thing anymore, not after what we did.”
“That’s between you and Royal,” Jacob shrugged. “To me, you’re still the same sweet kid we took in when you were seventeen, Patrick. And, as for me and him, well…I don’t know. We’ll work it out, I promise. And, it’ll go back to the way it’s supposed to.”
Patrick gave a slight nod, “Right.”
“Go get some food,” Jacob nodded towards the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.”
Patrick nodded again and didn’t look up again as Jacob stepped back out of the house and down the porch steps. He waited until he back across the yard before closing the door again, more softly this time. He didn’t sink back to the floor and instead forced him to the kitchen for food. No sense in taking the bosses orders.

“You don’t have to help me,” Royal crossed his arms over his chest, blocking the door to the truck cab. “I can do it by myself.”
“It will go faster with the two of us,” Jacob put his hands on his hips.
“You really want to be out there with me?” Royal pushed.
“Out there, we can scream at each other as loud and as long as we want and no one will hear us.”
Royal sucked in a breath, moving around the truck. He slammed the door behind him after he had slid into the driver’s seat. Jacob pulled himself into the passenger side of the truck, and Royal turned over the engine.
“I just want to know why,” he started talking as soon as they were on their way out of the yard.
“Why what?”
“Why that, why there, why him, why now? Any why you can think of filling in for me.”
“Because I wanted it –because it was convenient, because he was there, because it’s been three fucking months since the last time I’ve been that close to anyone, much less you.” Royal let his eyes slide from the path to look at Jacob. The field was empty so there wasn’t much danger of an accident.
“So you’re blaming me?”
“I’m not blaming anyone, there is no blame. It’s a fact, Jacob. We haven’t fucked months, and even then its been sporadic the last year or so. We spend every single night in the same bed and you never even touch me anymore. I know every inch of your body, everything that gets you hot…but you don’t seem to want me.”
“Of course I want you,” Jacob sighed, shaking his head. “This just happens, Royal. We’ve been together for almost ten years. We spent the first seven fucking almost daily. Plus, we’re getting older, Royal. We don’t have the same libido as we did when we were in our twenties –fuck, I in my forties already.”
“Don’t play it off like you’re getting old, Jacob. We both know that’s bullshit. You’ve lost interest –we’ve both lost interest.”
“No,” Jacob shook his head. Royal jerked the truck into park near where they’d finished off the fence. “Goddamn it, Royal. I don’t know what you want from me. I’m trying so hard right now…but all I can think about is that...what you did with him, right here.”
“Where no one could hear us scream, right?”
“Did you like it?”
“Do you really want to hear the answer to that?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it. I might even rank in my top five, bumping down that time we went to White Party in Orlando.”
Jacob rubbed the tips of his fingers at the corners of his eyes. He hated how totally frank Royal could be sometimes. It had started pissing him off; he used to find it endearing. “If I hadn’t asked, would you have told me?”
“Probably, eventually.”
“You made him feel like shit,” Jacob leaned against the door, shifting in his seat. “It was really unfair for you to do that to him.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jacob. We did it, I can’t turn back time and talk myself out of it. It’s too late for that; it’s done. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me that nothing is going to be different because of this. That you’re not going to treat him any differently because you had ten minutes of stupidity.”
“Of course not,” Royal sighed. “He’s second only to you in my affections, Jacob.”
“Really?” Jacob cocked an eyebrow. “You’re doing a pretty shitty job of showing that.”
Royal sighed, “What do you want from me, Jacob? Do you want me to fuck you too? Is that what you want? What you’ve been waiting for? I’ll do it, if that’s what you want from me –right here, right now. I’ll do to you what I did to him. That’s what this is about right?”
Jacob shook his head, getting out of the truck. He walked around the side to the tailgate, lifting it down to pull out the toolbox. Royal slammed his own door, joining him at the back of the truck.
“You wanted to talk, so talk. Like you said –we can stay whatever we need out here. There isn’t anyone around to hear us.”
Jacob pulled the toolbox down, setting it on the ground. He brushed any stray bits of barbed wire out of the way before grabbing the front of Royal’s shirt and shoving him against the back of the truck. It creaked, and Royal groaned, putting out his hands to stop himself. His hat tipped forward and he reached up to right it.
“Shit, Jacob,” he started to turn around, but Jacob’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Royal,” his hand moved down his lover’s back. “What you did today, that wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. It was mine. I practically put the idea into his head myself last night that it was okay. That I wanted this to happen; maybe I did.” His hand stopped on the small of Royal’s back and slid around his hip. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his waist. Royal was warm and he pressed his forehead to the middle of his back. “I just don’t know.”
Royal’s fingers flexed against the tailgate. “Jacob.”
He pulled free, stepping back, and kneeling down to open up the tool box.
“Jacob,” Royal turned around. “Talk to me, please?”
“And say what?”
“Anything.”
“He said that you told him that you loved me.”
“I do love you, you know that.”
“And you don’t feel at all sorry about what you did?”
Royal shook his head, “No, I can’t. I told him I wouldn’t and I don’t. The same way I’ve never felt bad about us.”
“You’re not even thinking twice about it, are you?”
“Is it a crime to enjoy yourself?” Royal shrugged. “He enjoyed it –it’s been even longer for him then for me. He deserved it.”
“I won’t deny that he could probably have used a good fuck, but from you?”
“Why not me?”
“Because you’ve been like his father for the last seven years,” Jacob finally looked up at him. “This is disgusting.”
“I took care of him but I’ve never been his father.”
“You need to apologize to him.”
“Why? He liked it just as much as I did. I’m sorry he got hurt –we should have been more careful. I’m not sorry that we had sex –or, as near as we could get out here at any rate.”
“You need to apologize because we can’t go back to the way it was. The two of us…I can forgive you. I know you, I know it a one-time indiscretion. But between the two of you, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep him here.”
“You can’t fire him.”
“Of course not,” Jacob shook his head. “And if you apologize, he won’t feel like he has to go so that we can stay together. He’s a runner, Royal. It’s what he does when he’s scared.”
“He wouldn’t just leave.”
“You don’t know that,” Jacob shook his head. “For all I know, he’s packing up right now and he’ll be gone by the time we get back.”
“Fuck you,” Royal spat. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Jacob shrugged. “Why don’t you go find out.”
“Fuck you,” he repeated. He moved around the truck, getting back into the drivers seat. Jacob took a few steps back as he revved the engine and pealed out, sending dirt and grass flying.

Patrick had started mucking out stalls in the barn and was just about finished when heard the ruckus of the farm truck stirring up gravel in the lot. He leaned his pitchfork in one of the stalls before heading for the door. He watched, quizzical, as Royal got out of the truck and made his way over to him.
Royal didn’t say a word, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him against the stack of straw bales. Patrick didn’t even have time to protest as Royal’s lips found his. It took a few extra moments for his wits to return to him and give him the strength to shove Royal away.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He breathed.
“I don’t know,” Royal shook his head. “Nothing makes sense today.”
“I thought you were out working on the fence with Jacob.”
“I was –we were going to. We…he said you might leave.”
“What? Why would I –Royal, this is my home now. I mean, if you or Jacob asked me to leave, I would, but…” He shook his head. “I’m not a stupid kid anymore.”
“I know,” Royal started to reach for him again, but Patrick side stepped him.
“Please don’t.”
Royal sank down onto one of the bales, putting his head in his hands, “Fuckin’-A, Patrick.”
“We can’t do that again –any of it. I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me. I won’t become a bigger part of anything coming between you and Jacob. I can’t!”
“Jacob and I are fine,” Royal shook his head. “He’s…he says he can forgive me.”
“Saying he can and actually doing it are different.”
“He will –he does. But, things can’t go back to normal until I know things are all right between the two of us.” Royal looked up at him. He folded his hands, and tapped his fingers against his lips.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Is there going to be this uncomfortable tension between us the rest of our lives or are you eventually going to forgive me for coercing you?”
“I wanted it as much as you did, more even.”
“Then why do you feel so guilty? I can see it in your face.”
Patrick sighed, picking up the pitchfork again and going back to his task, “Royal, I’ve known you for years –the both of you. You guys took care of me, made sure I stayed on track, got to college, offered me a job when I finished. I owe you guys more then I could ever think of paying back.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Royal shook his head.
“But I do, which is why no matter what fucked up shit happens around here, I won’t leave and you can be certain that even if you asked, I wouldn’t go without some kind of fight.”
Royal nodded, “All right.”
“I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have egged you on. You’re right, I was asking for it. I wanted it, but that’s no excuse.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I don’t know, it was only an hour ago, Royal.”
“I don’t regret it at all,” Royal assured him. “It’s okay to admit that you liked it.”
“I’m just confused, but…I’m always a little confused. Everything is fine between us, Royal. Why don’t we just forget that this happened –we can’t let ten minutes change our entire lives, okay?”
Royal gave him a nod, “Yeah, you’re right.”
“So…go get your man,” Patrick nodded in the general direction of the fence. “He’s waiting for you to sweep him back off his feet, you know.”
Royal nodded, pushing up from the bale. As he walked away from the barn, Patrick leaning against his pitchfork to watch him go, he couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving behind a golden opportunity.