by A. D. Ellis
Did Pops know what Quincy and I had done to each other along with the porn and moonshine? Oh my God.
“Duane, you almost done? We better head home. We need to pick up the little ones.” Momma hollered from the kitchen.
Hugs and words of love and thanks were exchanged before we wished Momma and Pops safe travels and sent them on their way.
Quincy and I flopped onto the couch.
“Can you believe it? It’s like we’re sitting here watching our dream play out in front of us. This place is ours. We live together. Everything we planned is happening.”
Quincy spoke the words and my heart felt every bit of them.
“Yeah, it’s sort of surreal. I keep thinking it’s a dream. I’ll be heartbroken if I wake up.”
Quincy hummed. “Man, what do you want to do?” Quincy rolled his head to look at me. “Go out? Find a party? Stay in?”
I grimaced.
“Stay in, that’s my Grif.” Quincy slapped my leg.
“You don’t have to entertain me,” I started. “I can kick back with a movie and pizza and hit the sack early. Maybe we explore the campus tomorrow?”
Quincy frowned. “Do you not want to spend time with me? I thought at least tonight would be just us.”
My heart fluttered. Quincy wanted to spend his night with me.
“I’d love to hang with you. I’ve missed having you around. But I know your idea of fun doesn’t usually match mine. If you want a party, I’m fine staying here.”
“No way. Pizza and movie night at home. It’s a plan.” Quincy gave me a big goofy smile.
My heart stopped. How was I going to live with Quincy and not continue falling head over heels in love with him? It started eight years ago and being apart for two years hadn’t eased the ache. But we were friends. Period.
Thirty minutes later, we had a large pizza, two sodas, a bag of chips, and two king size candy bars spread out on the tiny coffee table.
“What are we watching?” Quincy fiddled with the television and game system he’d brought with him. Clearly presents from Max.
“We could binge a few episodes of something rather than a movie.” I wasn’t sure how well I’d be able to focus on anything.
“What about the new season of Queer Eye?”
“Yaaaas, Queen!” I laughed. “Seriously, I love that show. But you know I’ll cry.”
“No worries. I’ll dry your tears.”
Quincy hit play and we tore into the food.
Three episodes later, my napkin was a soggy mess, and I couldn’t stop sniffling.
Quincy chuckled and put his arm around me. “Grif, it’s a happy show.”
I nodded. “I know. It’s just so inspirational. They take these people who have lost sight of how beautiful and special they are and give them the tools and skills to let their gorgeous souls shine through. There’s nothing better than watching a person learn to love themselves.”
“Yeah, it’s a great show. They do amazing things. I hope I can be that for someone someday.”
I scrunched up my face. “Someday? You do realize that you did this for me, right?”
Q laughed. “Hardly.”
“No, for real. Ten-year-old Quincy totally Queer-Eyed me. Style? Check. Remember when you helped me pick out clothes and shoes? Culture? Check. You always encouraged me to talk about my mom and the good memories. Grooming? Check. I’d still be having Momma cut my nails if you didn’t force me to learn how to do it myself.”
Quincy snorted. “You were scared to death to do your own nail clipping. I don’t know how you thought those little clippers were going to cut off your whole finger.”
I ignored him and continued my train of thought. “Food and wine? Check. You taught me how to make my own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And you showed me that moonshine is basically like drinking turpentine. Renovation? Check. The night you helped me slide my bed across your bedroom and snug it up against yours was the start of a friendship that may never make sense, but it’s my heart and soul.”
Quincy’s face was serious. “Okay, I can see it. I’d do it all over again because you’ve given me just as much. Watching you grow from that scared, traumatized, lonely little kid into a unique, intelligent, successful man was as good for my heart as it was for you.” He paused. “But what do you mean that our friendship doesn’t make sense?”
It was my turn to snort. “Seriously?”
Quincy nodded and waited for me to speak.
I turned toward him and pulled a leg under me. “Look at us. I’m this pasty, scrawny, fem guy; you’re this glowing, muscular, tough guy. I love makeup and dance, I cry over sappy movies, I love to have my nails painted; you love working out, action and adventure movies, and you excel at anything to do with sports. Not to mention I came from a traumatic background filled with neglect, drugs, and a homicide/suicide; you have a solid family and money for anything you may need.” I shrugged. “We have nothing in common. We never should have ended up as friends.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Never!” I laid a hand on his leg. “I’m grateful beyond words every day that I landed in your home and Momma stuck us together. I’m just saying, if circumstances were different, we likely would have never become friends. We’re too different. I never would have fit into your life without Momma making it happen.”
“So, I’m so shallow that I never could have befriended you if Momma hadn’t made me?” Quincy’s tone held hurt.
I ran a hand over my face. “No, stop twisting what I’m saying.”
He held my hand. “Different isn’t bad. Friends don’t have to be exactly the same. I love your makeup; you’ve got mad skills. I love your flashy nails, your dancing, and your tears over sappy movies. And stop saying I have a solid family; they’re your family too. And we’ve got the papers to prove it.”
I heard his words, but my focus was on our hands. I longed for Quincy to feel for me what I felt for him. My brain flashed images of us eating pizza, watching a movie, holding hands, kissing, and falling into bed. Together. Quincy’s arms wrapped around me. Quincy loving me the same way I loved him. As my brother, as my best friend, and as my partner. My lover.
“Grif?” Quincy jostled my hand. “Where’d you go? Did you even hear a word I said?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I heard you. Look, we’re as opposite as they get, but we work. Period. I’m blessed to have you as a brother and friend.”
Quincy pressed his lips together in a slight smile. “Yeah. We are blessed. Brothers and friends. Couldn’t ask for anything more, right?”
Over the next week, Quincy and I spent every day together. We explored the campus, looked into part-time job options, bought our books, went to the discount store to finalize our school supplies, and mapped out our classes.
I was scheduled for classes on Monday and Friday, plus two online classes along with my Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday classes at the local cosmetology school.
Quincy had classes and practice every day.
We figured we’d have most of our evenings together and likely a lot of our weekends would match up.
“I’ll have games, but you can come to those sometimes. And as soon as you’re trained enough to handle this hotness,” Quincy gestured up and down his body and ran his hands over his hair, “I’ll allow you to cut my hair. But only once I deem you trustworthy.” He laughed.
“Boy, you know I’m expert level, just need the license to prove it.” I elbowed him.
The first week of classes hit us hard, but we soon settled into a routine.
Breakfast together. Tea for me, coffee for Quincy. We usually shared a box of cereal or toast. If one of us was feeling extra we might make eggs.
We had our own little suite, a routine, and we loved each other.
It was enough. It had to be enough. It should’ve been enough.
But it wasn’t.
I wanted more.
I wanted so much more.
But I couldn’t destroy a friendship by letting on that
I loved Q as more than a brother and a friend.
So, I pushed down my feelings, played house with Quincy, threw myself into my classes, and pretended I wasn’t in love with my best friend.
5
Quincy
I went to my dad’s over Fall Break. We had a nice visit. But I missed Griffin.
Me: Don’t miss me too much.
Griffin: I’ll do my best.
Me: Whatcha doing?
Griffin: Watching a movie. Finished homework earlier.
Me: Lame. What else?
Griffin: Nothing else. Just watching this movie.
Me: Crying? Jacking off? Jacking off while you cry?
Griffin: I may have some tears. It’s a heartwarming movie.
Me: Awwww, poor Grif. Jack off, it will make you feel better.
Griffin: Dude, if I jacked off as much as you insinuate I do, my dick would fall off.
I snorted. I wanted to be on the couch, holding Grif as he cried. And jacking him off.
Fuck.
Me: I’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to relax and just hang.
Griffin: Sounds good. See you then. Be safe driving.
When I got back to campus, Griffin and I spent the whole weekend with take-out, movies, and video games.
Sunday night we hit up a local coffee shop just to get out of the suite.
“Oh, look! A haunted house costume party.” Grif took one of the flyers from a community bulletin board. “We should do this!”
“We should?”
Griffin shrugged. “You don’t have to. It would just be fun to do costumes.”
“You don’t like parties or big groups of people.” I crossed my arms and smirked.
“But I love makeup and costumes.” Griffin’s eyes lit up. “I’d probably only go if you went. The chance to show off makeup and costumes overrides my dislike of parties and big groups if you’re there.”
We spent the next couple weeks planning our costumes. Okay, Griffin spent the next couple weeks planning our costumes. I was on consult only. His idea for our costumes was perfect.
The day of the haunted house costume party was the absolute perfect fall day. Warm breeze and sunshine filtered through brightly colored leaves. The evening would be crisp and cool.
“We should give ourselves three hours to get ready.” Griffin danced through the kitchen eating a piece of cold pizza.
“Three hours?” I gawked.
“From shower to final touches, yes. Three hours makes it so we’re not rushed. I’ll take care of my makeup first and then get yours started. We’re walking to the party, right?”
I nodded and took a swig of soda.
“Okay, then we have a couple hours before we need to start the preparations.”
“Nap?”
Griffin swallowed his pizza. “Movie?”
“Movies on a Saturday afternoon usually end in a nap.”
“True.”
We settled in to watch some random movie. Within moments, Griffin’s head flopped back on the sofa and slid to the side until he collided with my shoulder.
I wanted to lay down and pull Griffin close.
I wanted my arms around him.
I wanted more.
But I let my head rest against his and closed my eyes.
I’d take what I could get.
“Shit! Wake up!” Griffin startled awake next to me. “We’re thirty minutes past the scheduled preparation time.” He jumped up and pulled me to my feet. “I’m going to shower and get started on my makeup. You can shower while I’m getting ready.” With that, he rushed off.
The shower came on and I smiled. Seeing Griffin so pumped about something was great. And I loved that he was comfortable going to the party if I was with him. My heart swelled with a sense of pride that I’d be showing off his makeup skills with my costume. I wanted everyone to know he was my brother, and my best friend.
I paused.
I wanted everyone to know he was mine.
And he was, in a way. My best friend. My adopted brother.
But not mine in the way I most wanted.
When Griffin started singing Broadway tunes, I grinned from ear-to-ear. “Sing it, baby!” I hollered into the bathroom as I walked to my room to lay out my costume.
Grif had fashioned my costume from a very large, stretchy, green halter dress. He cut zig-zags along the bottom hem and made a belt from a darker green length of tulle. The green tights taunted me; they looked way to small, but Griffin promised they’d stretch to fit. The pink ballet-style house slippers were a nice touch. My wings were created from wire coat hangers and white pantyhose decorated with glitter paint. Griffin tried telling me about his plans for my hair and makeup, but I knew it would be something I’d have to see to completely understand it.
By the time I was out of the shower, Griffin was well into his transformation. Dark green tunic top, light green leggings, brown slippers, and a green triangular felt hat with a feather. The outfit was quite simple. Griffin’s hair was light and floppy, so he simply combed it forward and to the side. The makeup was anything but simple.
Griffin’s eyes were beyond amazing. Bright green on the lid, a darker almost turquoise up to the brow bone, and a maroon liner on the top lid that winged out into a feather design. Glittery green liner sparkled on his lower lid, and long black lashes finished his look. The dark almost black forest green lipstick Griffin was applying made his perfect lips pop.
My dick wanted those lips to do nasty things.
Shit. I groaned.
“You like?” Griffin didn’t take his eyes from the mirror.
“Amazing as usual.”
“Get dressed. I want you in costume before I start on makeup and hair.”
I pulled on the tights, adjusting my cock and hoping the tight material would help conceal my hard-on. The dress was easy enough to slip into. Never one to judge others for their likes or kinks, I ran my hands over the body skimming dress and definitely understood the appeal some men found in wearing more feminine clothes. “Wings now or later?” I stepped into the bathroom.
Griffin’s breath caught. “Ohhh,” he breathed out slowly. “That looks amazing. Oh, um, wings later. Yeah, wings later.”
I chuckled. “Okay.” I tossed the wings on my bed before pulling on the pink slippers.
“You ready?” Griffin asked from the bathroom. “I need extra time for your makeup, I’m better at doing my own.”
“Yep, make me over, baby.”
“I think the light is better in the kitchen. And I’ll need you to sit.”
We found ourselves in the kitchen, and I plopped into a chair as Griffin spread his supplies on the table.
Griffin frowned. “That puts you too low.”
“Can you sit too?”
He pursed his lips. “I can try that.” Griffin pulled a chair over to face mine and sat.
Our knees bumped and he groused. “I can’t get close enough.”
I grabbed his legs and hefted them over mine before pulling the chair closer. “Better?”
Griffin’s cheeks pinked, but he nodded.
Forty-five minutes later, Griffin sighed. “There. Perfect. You want to see?”
“Of course.”
He led me to the bathroom mirror, and I sucked in a breath.
“You like?”
“You’re so damn talented, G. This is fabulous. I can’t wait for everyone to see your skills. I’m like a walking advertisement for you.”
Griffin had applied multiple small combs in my hair and attached long black hair to each comb. He pulled all the hair into a messy but expertly designed top knot adorned with sparkly green ribbons. My makeup was to die for, though. Light, glittery green outlined my entire eye area from corner to corner and bottom lid to brow bone. My top lid was swept with a darker green and a bright white liner with dramatic wings. Glittery white, green, and gold spots decorated my eyes from inner corner to temple on top and bottom. I pressed my lips together and smile
d. Dark pink covered my lips.
“I love it. It’s all so damn good.”
Griffin smiled from ear-to-ear. “We are about ten minutes ahead of schedule. We should do pee breaks and final costume checks before we head out.”
I nodded. “I need wing help.”
“I’ll be your wing man,” Griffin joked.
Ten minutes later, we locked the suite and headed to the party.
We were instantly bombarded with compliments and people wanting pictures.
When we reached the sidewalk and had some time to ourselves, I glanced at Griffin. “Why Peter Pan and Tinkerbell?” I had been onboard since the first mention of the pair, but I hadn’t thought to ask why.
Griffin smiled. “I don’t know. I wanted a pair. Like salt and pepper or ketchup and mustard. But I wanted fun costumes and great makeup. Then I remembered a quote from Peter Pan and knew it was perfect.”
I raised my brows and waited.
“In Peter Pan he says, ‘You mean more to me than anyone in this whole world,’ and that’s how I feel about you.”
The lump in my throat was hard to swallow and my eyes stung. “Damn it, don’t make me cry. I’m not used to having makeup on; I don’t want to mess it up.” I sniffed. In my head, I vowed to watch Peter Pan soon.
The haunted house turned out to be superb. The hosts of the party had put a lot of work into the special effects. Griffin hated the jump-out-and-scare-you parts, but he was fascinated by all the great makeup on the haunted house participants.
The two of us definitely had the best makeup of all the party-goers. Griffin seemed to never tire of the compliments, and I’d never get tired of the proud feeling in my heart knowing I was with someone as amazing as him.
By the time we got home, I was beyond ready to shed the tights, and I was sure my mascara was running, but I’d loved every second of having Griffin by my side.
“I gotta piss,” I announced as I unlocked the door. I rushed to the bathroom and relieved myself. “Hey, you want to play a game or watch a movie?” I asked after I’d finished and walked back into the dark living room. “Grif?” Shit. Had he already gone to bed? Damn. I thought we’d have a couple more hours together.