by TJ Klune
Until You
By TJ Klune
Sequel to The Queen & the Homo Jock King
Together with their families and friends,
Paul Auster
and
Vincent Taylor
request the honor of your company at the celebration of their marriage.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Wedding Invitation
Prologue: That Time I Married RoboCop
Chapter One: Self-Doubts Can Be Cured by Blowjobs at Work
Chapter Two: Daddy’s Got Some News
Chapter Three: German Peanut Farmers Are All About the Nuts
Chapter Four: The Great American Bro-Off
Chapter Five: The Bachelor Party
Chapter Six: The Heart of the Homo Jock King
Chapter Seven: Until You
Epilogue: Robert and Jeremy
More from TJ Klune
About the Author
By TJ Klune
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright
To all the Pauls and Vinces of the world, I say this:
Dudes, you keep rocking that shit.
This one is for you.
Prologue: That Time I Married RoboCop
1991
“MOM,” I said. “I need help. My wedding is today and I don’t have a thing to wear.”
My mother, Matty Auster, looked up from where she was styling her bangs in the bathroom she and my father shared. I tried not to flinch away at the sight of her, given that her hair was undoubtedly the biggest thing I’d ever seen. She set down the hairbrush and the can of Super Hold Unscented Aqua Net, adjusted the shoulder pads of her dress that made her look like she’d just walked off the set of Dynasty, and then turned toward me. “Run that one by me again?”
“My wedding,” I said, speaking slowly, knowing then even as a seven-year-old that sometimes, adults were stupid, “is today. And I don’t have anything to wear.”
She nodded solemnly. “This is a terrible thing that will be remedied immediately. Though, I must admit to being a little surprised at hearing you’re getting married. I didn’t even know you were engaged.”
I rolled my eyes and played with the stretchy waistband of my parachute pants. “It’s a new thing. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Her lips quirked, like she was trying not to laugh. “All right. Since you asked, I won’t make a big deal out of my only son finally getting married. Now, what’s wrong with what you have on?”
I looked down. In addition to my orange-and-green parachute pants, I wore my black-and-white BKs and a KISS T-shirt. I didn’t quite understand what KISS was exactly, but Dad said that Gene Simmons was a god, so I tried not to question it. It probably helped that Mom thought Mr. Simmons was also a god, but that had to do with his tongue more than anything else. That led to Mom and Dad whispering and giggling to each other like they sometimes did, while I stared at the both of them, trying not to be grossed out by my parents, but also feeling a little warm and fuzzy at the sight of them.
I looked back up at Mom. “It’s not wedding clothes.”
“Oh. And what are wedding clothes?”
“You know. Like… big hats. And veils.” I actually knew what a wedding was supposed to look like, having seen photos of Princess Diana’s wedding in one of Mom’s magazines, but didn’t want to have to put my parents out too much. I didn’t think asking for a horse-drawn carriage was something they’d go for.
“Big hats and veils,” she said, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the closet in the bedroom. “I see. Well, at least we have a place to start. Who are you marrying?”
“RoboCop,” I said promptly.
She started coughing. “RoboCop. The speak-and-play doll Nana got you?”
“He’s not a doll,” I said, sounding outraged in that way that only children can sound. “He’s an action figure. Who quotes the movie.”
“Right,” she said. “The action figure. You’re marrying your action figure.”
“Yes.”
She frowned as she opened the closet door. “I don’t know how your father is going to feel about this. We haven’t even met RoboCop yet. I think we should get to meet your future husband before you get married, don’t you think?”
“Mom,” I said, slumping against the wall, feeling the weight of the world on my chunky little shoulders. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. “But you could have at least invited him to dinner.”
I mumbled as I scuffed my foot against the carpet.
“What was that?”
“I said that I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.”
“Really. You didn’t want to make a big deal about something. Oh child. My perfect, special little boy.” She started sifting through the clothes in the closet. “Well, maybe I’ll let this one slide if you answer some questions.”
“Fine,” I groaned.
“Why do you want to get married?”
I shrugged. “Because it looks like fun.”
“And did you ask RoboCop or did RoboCop ask you?”
“I asked him.”
“Because you love him?”
Well, yes. He was my favorite toy. “Yes.”
She handed me a floppy sunhat, white with a large yellow plastic flower attached to it. I put it on. It fit perfectly. “And he’ll keep you safe?”
“Mom, he’s RoboCop. He has guns for arms.”
She looked over her shoulder pad, smiling at me, wide and beautiful, knocking the breath from my chest a little. “Good. As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s all I could ever want. What’s the theme for the wedding?”
“Star Wars.”
“Right. And the color scheme?”
“Every color.”
“Got it. And will there be food?”
“If you make it, there will be.”
“Sassy little minx.”
I grinned at her. “I already have the menu picked out.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Mr. T Cereal as an appetizer, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Pizza Crunchabungas as a cleanser, Big Macs for the main course, Sharkleberry Fin Kool-Aid to drink, and Jell-O Pudding Pops for dessert, because Bill Cosby is funny and I like him.”
“Everyone does,” Mom said. “It’s because he’s a family man and respects boundaries.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Which I hated. As of last count, there were two hundred and twenty-six things that I would have to be told when I was older. “Now. When you said veil, did you mean a train?”
I squinted up at her. “Like… on the tracks?”
“No. I meant the part of the wedding dress that drags along the ground behind the bride.”
“Ohh. Yes. That.” That had to be the most important part. Everyone knew that the longer it was, the better.
“I think I have an idea,” she said, tapping her chin.
I loved it when she had ideas.
“WHAT IN the fresh hell is going on in this house of horrors?” Nana said when she burst through the front door. “I get a phone call telling me my grandson is getting married? I thought child brides only happened in places far from here, like Vermont. Paul, pack your bags. I am taking you to live with me in my RV. To be up-front with you, it’s cramped and smells weird.”
“It’s not what you think,” Mom said to her, trying to fix the lacy table runner she’d attached to the sunhat. It flowed down my back and trailed along the floor behind me. “You made me promise when I was pregnant to not sell my kid for a goat or five hundred dollars. I keep my promises, Mother.”
Nana’s eyes widened when she saw me.
I waved at her. I felt good. I felt right.
“Matty,” Nana hissed. “Why is Paul wearing a toga, a floppy hat, and that thing that goes on the dinner table?”
“It’s his wedding day,” she said. “He’s marrying RoboCop.”
And Nana, without even missing a beat, said, “What? Why was I not called to officiate this? This is a damn tragedy, I tell you! A damn tragedy.”
“Language,” Dad said, coming into the room with the box of Mr. T Cereal. The box proclaimed quite proudly that there were Mr. T stickers on the inside. I reminded myself to make sure I claimed those as my own once the wedding was over. I truly did pity the fool who didn’t have Mr. T stickers. “This is a magical day, and I will not have it sullied because of bad language.” He opened his fanny pack and pulled out plastic spoons and forks, spreading them prettily over the dining room table next to the cereal box and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Pizza Crunchabungas. Mom said she hoped fanny packs never went out of style, because no one wore them like Larry Auster wore them.
“Paul,” Nana demanded. “Don’t you want me to be the one who marries you to RoboCop?”
To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it. “I was just going to have Teddy Ruxpin do it,” I admitted.
“Teddy Ruxpin?” Nana gasped. “I am so much better than that—that motherfu—”
“Language,” Dad trilled as he came back from the kitchen with a pitcher of Sharkleberry Fin.
“—motherducking bear,” Nana said. “Ask me how many weddings I’ve officiated. Go ahead. Ask.”
“Nana, how many weddings have you done?”
“None,” she said. “And how dare you deprive me of doing it for the first time. For my grandson no less.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “You can do the wedding.”
“Thank God,” Nana said. “Because I already wrote what I was going to say on my way over.”
“Even though you thought we were selling him as a child bride to someone from Vermont?” Mom asked, giving the table runner one more good tug before pushing herself to her feet.
“I’m opportunistic,” Nana said.
Mom took me by the hand and led me to the full-length mirror in the hallway. I gasped when I saw my reflection.
“I look so cool,” I breathed.
“I did good?” Mom asked.
“You did good. You’re my favorite right now.”
And then she teared up, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek and nose and chin. “My little boy,” she said, voice cracking. “So grown up. Where has the time gone? I can’t believe this is happening already.”
I groaned as I struggled to push her away. “Mooooom. Stop it. That’s gross!”
“I’m allowed to get emotional,” she said, still trying to kiss my face off. “It’s not every day your son gets married. One day you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Argh,” I said, wondering if I could get away with kicking her in the shins. I decided against it, not wanting to ruin my outfit. She must have seen the look in my eyes, because she only went on for another minute more before she backed away, taking her shins out of reach.
“Okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Everything should be all set up and ready to go. When you hear the music, you can come into the room. RoboCop will be waiting for you.”
I nodded, and she smiled at me before she went back to the living room. I turned around and looked in the mirror. For once, I didn’t see a chubby kid that didn’t really have any friends. For once, I wasn’t focused on all the things that made other kids not like me very much. Today, I was wearing white, and I had a big hat and a train that flowed down my back.
“Suck it, Princess Diana,” I whispered.
And then I heard the opening bars of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, which Dad said was the only wedding song that anyone should walk down the aisle to. I had agreed wholeheartedly and was humming to myself as I goose-stepped into the room.
“Why is he walking like that?” Nana asked, standing near the table that was doubling as the altar. “Somewhere, Jewish people are feeling a disturbance in the force.”
“We just roll with it,” Dad said. “Also, it’s a Star Wars–themed wedding, so Dark Side and all that.”
“Ah,” Nana said. “Rolling with it. The tried-and-true method of parenting.”
The room looked amazing. There were Imperial streamers hanging from the ceiling, leftover from my last birthday party I’d had that no one in my class had come to. A huge wall sticker of the Death Star was on the ceiling.
My toys were lined up on either side of me, a veritable who’s who of the rich and famous. There was Lion-O. Boba Fett. He-Man. Rainbow Brite. The Ecto-1, with Slimer sitting on the top. The entire Smurf village. My Lite-Brite, lit up in the shape of a heart. Optimus Prime. Bert and Ernie. A Rancor. My Buddy, though he didn’t look too well, given that I’d gone through my hairdresser phase last year and had taken to him with a pair of scissors. Teddy Ruxpin, of course, but he was silent, as Nana would be officiating. I hoped he wouldn’t be too mad at me.
My speak-and-play RoboCop stood on the table next to Nana and my parents, waiting for me. He looked handsome for a man that was mostly a robot.
Dad turned down Def Leppard as I came to stand next to the table before Nana. My parents moved until they were standing on either side of me. Dad squeezed my shoulder and Mom blew her nose into a silk kerchief.
“Hello, RoboCop,” I said. “You look very nice.”
I reached up and pressed the button on his back.
He said, “Dead or alive, you’re coming with me.”
“This old thing?” I said, fiddling with my hat. “It wasn’t that expensive.” I pressed the button again.
RoboCop said, “Come quietly, or there will be… trouble.”
I sighed happily.
“Is that toy suitable for kids?” Dad asked with a frown. “Who got him that?”
“I did,” Nana said. “And of course it’s suitable. It’s a toy. Toys are made for children. Watch.” She pressed the button.
“Serve the public trust, protect the innocent, uphold the law,” RoboCop said.
“See?” Nana said.
“I thought that movie was for adults,” Dad said.
“Dad!” I growled. “This is my wedding day. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Sorry,” he said, running his hands through his perm. “Just nervous. I’ve never been to my son’s wedding before.”
“It’s okay,” I said, patting him on the hip. “Just don’t speak anymore and we won’t have a problem.”
“Bridezilla,” he said.
I glared at him because I was pretty sure that was speaking.
He winked at me.
I melted a little, because no one could wink like my father.
“Dearly beloved,” Nana said. “We are gathered here today to join together two pieces of a whole. A divided soul that will now become one in holy matrimony and love and other stuff. RoboCop, a hardworking robot cop who protects the city of Detroit. And Paul, a hardworking human boy who inexplicably can somehow pull off that hat-and-toga combo.”
I preened.
“If there is anyone here that believes these two should not be joined, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”
No one spoke.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Paul Auster,” Nana said. “Do you take RoboCop as your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.”
“And RoboCop, do you take Paul as your lawfully wedded husband?”
“Madam, you have suffered an emotional shock,” RoboCop said. “I will notify a rape crisis center.”
Dad started choking. We waited until he finished.
“By the power invested in me,” Nana said, “which is all encompassing and should not be taken lightly, by the state of Arizona, I now pronounce you husband and robot.”
Mom and Dad cheered.
Nana smiled.
I swooned.
>
RoboCop said, “Excuse me. I have to go. Somewhere there is a crime happening.”
It was the best day ever.
Chapter One: Self-Doubts Can Be Cured by Blowjobs at Work
March 2, 2016
T-Minus 24 Days
“GOD,” I said, tearing off my headset and throwing it down on my cubicle desk. “If I could quit this job and never have to think about car insurance ever again for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest person alive. This is the worst place in the entire world.”
“What about Iraq?” my best friend, Sanford Stewart, asked me from across the aisle. “They kill you there for things like eating cake or wearing suspenders.”
I frowned at him. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”
“Have you been there before?”
“Erm. No.”
“Then you have no idea.” He took a nail file from his desk and began brushing it against his fingernails. “Trust me, Paul. I know what I’m talking about. I’m a drag queen.”
I was barely able to restrain the eye roll. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that that’s not how that works.”
“Of course it is. Everyone knows that drag queens are more knowledgeable than everyone else. It’s written in the gay bible. ‘Yea, and then God in all his fabulosity decreed that there shall be light, and that light came in the form of a man in a wig and killer boots. And it was good, and the world was brighter because of it.’”
I groaned and lay my head on my desk. “That will get you stoned in Iraq.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not going to Iraq, then.” There was a pause. Then, “Okay, spill.”
I didn’t have the strength to lift my head. “Spill what?”
“Paul Auster, don’t you dare try that bullshit with me. I’ve known you for far too long for you to try and get something by me. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong in the next five seconds, you are going to get such a spanking. And I promise it won’t be the sexy kind.”
I’m sure he could hear the smile in my voice when I said, “Really? And you don’t think the Homo Jock King would get jealous over something like that?”