18% Gray

by Anne Tenino

  Instead, Pop wilted. “Ah, fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Then he looked up again. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, Pop. And I’ve sucked enough cock to prove it.”

  “Don’t say that shit in my home!”

  “What, cock?” He could be the bigger man, here, and not say incendiary shit, but he was annoyed and his heart hurt and this fucker who’d barely given him the time of day his whole life was about to kick him out, so fuck it.

  His father took a step forward, like maybe he was thinking about hitting James. James let a smirk break out. The old man knew he was beat before he even started. James would mop up the floor with him. “Whatsa matter? Afraid your fag son’ll kick your ass?”

  His father swallowed uncomfortably. “Your mother said this was going to happen.”

  “What?” James swallowed now.

  “She said if we stayed here, you’d end up like this. ’S’why she left, she couldn’t stand to see her son turn into a fairy.”

  “What?” He had to be making this shit up. But he wasn’t.

  “I thought she was nuts. Wanted to stay because we could make so much more than if we went back to Idaho. More government protections, better trade restrictions. Better relationships with the markets in Asia. Shoulda fucking listened to her,” he finished in a mutter.

  “Mom left because she thought living here would turn me gay?” James needed to make sure he had this shit straight in his mind.

  Pop sneered, but just nodded, staring challengingly at James.

  Oh, he so didn’t need to take this shit. Fuck ’em. Pop could age and die alone, as far as he was concerned.

  James took two steps forward and got right in his father’s face. “News flash, Pop. If anyone ‘made’ me gay, it was you. Or mom. It’s genetic, you fucking prick. I was born gay.”

  “A Red state could have made you straight. Re-educated you.” His father didn’t back down. He believed he was totally in the right.

  James snorted. This was pointless. “Yeah, I had their version of straight shoved down my throat. Guess what the suicide rate for people who get out of re-education camp ‘cured’ is, Pop? Seventy percent. And that’s a Red state statistic. The Blue estimate is higher. I met a guy in Idaho who’s in his thirties, and he’s hidden he’s gay his whole life, because he doesn’t want to die. He thinks either someone’s gonna kill him, or he’s gonna get fucked up in re-education. His whole fucking life he’s lied about what he is because the alternative is death as far as he’s concerned. I’m not fucking living that way. If you can’t handle it, I’ll get my shit out of here and you won’t ever see me again.”

  Silence. His Pop looked down at the floor after a minute, unable to hold his gaze. James snorted softly and walked off to his old room. He couldn’t sense any regret or forgiveness from his father. Not even sadness. Just disappointment and resignation.

  James had maybe a half dozen things he wanted out of here. Really, he could live without any of it, but there was one thing he’d really like to have. He lay down on the floor and reached up under his old chest of drawers. It took a minute, but he found the false bottom, and then the chip. He took it out and looked at it.

  It didn’t look like much, but it contained about ten stills of Matt from some kegger in high school. Matt, fully clothed, smaller, a little awkward and a lot drunk.

  How pathetic was it that he’d jerked off to those a couple hundred times? James sighed. Pretty fucking pathetic.

  He stood up and dropped the chip in his pocket, reached for the old-fashioned print still of Gramma, picked up a watch from Grampa, threw in a change of clothes that might still fit him. He could get more on the base if he had to.

  He hesitated a moment, but then he grabbed the family bible his mother had left for him. It detailed her family for generations. He couldn’t imagine why he wanted it, but….

  James grabbed the keys to the “family” vehicle on the way through the kitchen, taking them off the hook. They’d always had an electric plugged in out in the garage, but it rarely got used when he’d lived at home. He’d had his crotch rocket in high school.

  On the way through the family room—lot of family shit in a house that had never had much of a family—he stopped and looked at his father. “You can pick up your vehicle at the base whenever. I’ll leave it in the visitor lot. Sorry you couldn’t accept me, Pop. Have a nice life.” Pop was all anger now. Dissatisfaction.

  Driving through the pitch-black early morning countryside, James tried to figure out how he felt. He didn’t seem to feel mad, much, or sick at heart, or guilty. He just felt mostly numb.

  And maybe a tiny bit lighter.

  JUST after breakfast, James took off for the Tennimore place in a motor pool SVO. The military cooked with enough grease. Big of them to fuel their vehicles with it too.

  Part of him didn’t want to have this conversation, but more of him was terrified of not having it. He couldn’t just let things go on the way they were. Wondering how Matt really felt—obligated? Trapped? Bored?—would kill him.

  He was ready to admit it wasn’t just worry about whether Matt would get hurt again. Matt had a dangerous job, and he could get hurt again at any time. When it came down to it, James would feel better if he was around Matt so he could protect him. Even if the risk was somewhat elevated being around James.

  His real worry came back to why Matt hid himself from James. Yeah, Matt let him in when they had sex and some other times, but most of the time he cut himself off. What if those times James had been sure Matt felt the same way he did, it had just been afterglow or something? Extreme stress brought on by being in life-threatening situations? Pity?

  Gabi Viteaux-Tennimore let him in. She gave a little gasping cry, and for a second James thought she was going to slam the door in his face. Then she lunged at him and hugged him, nearly knocking him over.

  “Thank you,” she said when she’d squeezed him tight then let him go.

  “Um, you’re welcome?”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you for saving Matt. A few times, from the sound of it.”

  “Oh, uh, I didn’t really…. I mostly had help.” Jesus, he was blushing. He could feel it.

  Gabi dragged him into the kitchen, past the back door that led out to the deck, and the bunkhouse. Wasn’t that where Matt stayed? Shouldn’t he be going there?

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Please, don’t call me ma’am,” Gabi said with some bite in her tone. “Call me Gabi.”

  “Oh, sorry, um, Gabi.” James looked down at the floor. He felt too muddled to even try to get a read on Gabi.

  “And you can call me Finley,” Matt’s dad said as he walked in. Jesus, was the brother going to show up too? If anyone else walked in, he was making a break for the bunkhouse.

  James shook Finley’s hand, assured them both he was fine, and really, no thank you, he didn’t need coffee, orange juice, or a donut.

  Soon, James realized Gabi was messing with him. She was keeping him here, making him squirm because she thought it was cute.

  Finley was just kinda clueless.

  James gave Gabi a narrow-eyed look. What was with Matt’s family? Gabi smirked a little, then said, “Why don’t you go on out to the bunkhouse? I imagine Matt’s just thinking about rising.”

  God, he hoped so. And maybe he’d be ready to get out of bed too.

  James broke an indoor land-speed record getting to the back door. As he walked out on the deck, he saw the door to the bunkhouse opening. Matt was coming out. James’s fantasy of finding Matt still in bed, warm and sleepy with morning wood, disintegrated. It was for the best, anyway. They really needed to talk.

  Matt was wearing only lightweight cotton pants. No shirt, no shoes. He’d accessorized with crutches, his knuckles white where he gripped them. His right pant leg was tied in a knot to keep it from dragging on the ground.

  Matt stopped suddenly when he cau
ght sight of James. He looked sort of embarrassed. About the leg? James cocked his head, trying to figure it out.

  “You caught me before I had a chance to put on my spare leg.” Matt was mumbling slightly, not quite meeting James’s eye.

  James took a few more steps forward and leaned in to give Matt a kiss. “I don’t care,” he said against Matt’s lips. He kept his hands in his pockets, though. Then he stepped back, giving them room.

  Matt looked at him like he was trying to puzzle out what was going on. James tried to say something, but his chest ached too much.

  Finally Matt came up with something. “You said you wanted to talk. Is that what you’re here for?”

  “Yeah.” James cleared his throat.

  More silence.

  Matt blew out a breath through his nose in exasperation. “James,” he said in his extra-patient voice, “talk.”

  “I think we should talk about what’s going to happen now. And in the future.” James took a deep breath in spite of the band around his chest.

  Matt stared at him a second, then looked down and muttered something. James waited for more, but nothing came. Finally Matt looked back up, and gave a sharp nod.

  James took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know if you should stay with me.”

  “What do you mean, I should stay with you? You aren’t involved in this?”

  “No, no, I’m totally involved here, and I’ll stay with you, if that’s what you want.” James had a feeling he wasn’t presenting this quite right. Had the feeling he was steering things off course, helpless to correct. If only this was just a bad training exercise.

  “What about what you want?” Matt looked pissed. His mouth was in a tight line, and he was leaning on his crutches, gripping them until his knuckles were white. Whiter. His brow started to wrinkle in anger and confusion.

  “I want to stay with you. If you want it. I’m just wondering if that’s what’s best. For you.”

  “What about what’s best for you?”

  They were going around in circles here.

  “I don’t want to talk about that. There’s too much pressure there. I mean, I’m gonna be working with you at QESA, and I just want you to know we don’t necessarily have to work together, stay together, unless that’s what we both want. I talked to Lance about it last night.”

  James saw a flash of hurt on Matt’s face before he hid it under anger. His jaw was clenching, and he spoke through his teeth. “You talked to my grandfather about this?”

  Uh-oh. Bad move? Damn, this was not going well at all. He was an idiot without his implant. “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s my boss too, right?”

  “You talked to him about us?” Still with the clenched teeth.

  “No! Just, you know, whether we had to work as a team if we didn’t, you know….”

  “No. I don’t know. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Matt’s voice was suddenly overly solicitous. James wracked his brain for what that could mean. He was coming up blank, but he was sure it wasn’t good.

  Jesus, the guy was starting to piss him off. “If we break up,” he said baldly.

  “Were we together?”

  James knew he hadn’t managed to keep the shock off his face. “I thought so,” he said quietly through numb lips.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Matt said just as quietly. “We were together, James.”

  Were together?

  “It just sounds like you aren’t interested in keeping us together now. Like you’re trying to talk me into dumping you.”

  James’s voice came out louder this time, much louder. “I don’t know if being with me is what’s best for you. Jesus, can’t you see? I’ve been trying to tell you, Matt, but it’s like you aren’t hearing. I want to be with you, but I don’t have the foggiest fucking idea how you feel about that. I know you like me, and you like the sex.” He snorted in agreement with himself. “And I know you wanted to get me out of Idaho; it’s your job. But I don’t know anything else, Matt. You shut your mind off from me unless we’re fucking!”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you, James?”

  “I’m a fucking liability with a mutant alien brain, Matt. I could go nuclear at any time. Our own fucking government sees me as a science project, and you can bet if Idaho knows I exist other Red states are going to start coming up with the intel eventually. I don’t want to ever see you shot again!”

  “It was my leg. My artificial leg.” He sounded like he was trying to be soothing. James started seeing red.

  “Not when that SAIA hit you!”

  “You didn’t say any of this, then.” Now he sounded annoyed. Good.

  “I didn’t l-like you so much, then.” That was a lame reply. James scowled at himself.

  “So you don’t want to stay with me.”

  “I do. Are you fucking deaf?”

  “You sure as fuck don’t sound like it! You keep trying to tell me why we shouldn’t be together, James. Why the fuck would I stay with you?”

  James was stunned. His brilliant mouth had just talked him out of a boyfriend. The boyfriend. The One. Jesus, he was an idiot.

  “I need you,” he admitted hoarsely. “I told you, you own me. You’re in control. But I need you to need me, to let me feel it,” he went on. Might as well make a complete fool of himself while he was on a roll. He stared into Matt’s eyes, but there was nothing there. Just blank. He didn’t say a word.

  Well, that was that, then.

  It was almost painful standing there looking at Matt in the sun. His hair was still long on top, wheat-pale, but his mom must have trimmed it sometime, and he’d shaved. James imagined if he put his hand on the back of Matt’s neck and pulled him in, he’d feel the fresh prickles there on his skin, tickling his palm. He wanted to brush his lips against that spot and nip at Matt’s spine, watching those goose bumps sweep his back as he pushed slowly into the almost painful tightness of Matt’s ass.

  But apparently Matt wasn’t sure if that’s what he wanted. Any of it—the making love or the needing. And James wanted out now if that was the case. Looking at Matt, his pajama pants hanging off his hips, one bare foot, shivering a little in the cool morning sunlight, James felt like if he left it any longer, losing Matt might kill him. If he did it now, it might only feel like losing a leg.

  Then they’d match.

  He took a step back, Matt squinting at him in the bright light, still silent. James swallowed and started to turn. His chest ached so much more now, soul deep.

  “James.” Matt’s voice stopped him. “It’s not easy, you know, having a boyfriend who’s an empath. And shows occasional signs of mind-reading. I have to… protect myself, you know?”

  James swallowed and nodded, staring at the boards of the deck. The ache had spread into his throat, choking his voice. Matt took a lurching step forward on his crutches.

  “I wasn’t sure how you felt, either, you know. I needed to think. I need some privacy, sometimes. And I guess I didn’t really realize how that must seem to you.” Matt reached out, balancing on one crutch, the other dangling from his arm, and slipped a hand around the back of James’s head. “But I trust you. I don’t care what might happen in your head. We’ll deal with it together. And I can let you in mine more, if you need that from me.” He pressed his lips against James’s just for a second.

  Then he lowered all his walls and let James in.

  Some of it was a swirling, ambiguous mess. Yes, Matt was scared of what might happen with James’s implant, but it was because he was scared for James. He wanted to protect him, too, wanted to be with him, give him comfort when he needed it, would give him space if James wanted. Was mad about it, and sometimes at James, and jealous of all the people James could read, because he wanted that intimacy only for himself. Felt insecure and needy and irritated. And hopeful.

  But the best was the pulsing red ball in the middle of it, Matt’s desire and trust and need and the best, best part—

  Matt attacked his mouth, both arms twini
ng about James’s neck, the dangling crutches hitting him in the arms and shoulders. James squeezed Matt so hard he forced a surprised “mmmph” out of him.

  When they separated, Matt looked at him a second, making sure. “Love you,” he said.

  James was afraid he might have tears on his face. “Love you too.” And then he kissed him again, lifting Matt a little and walking him backward toward the door of the bunkhouse. Matt’s crutches clattered to the ground as his leg wrapped around James’s waist. James could feel how hard he was, rubbing against his own hard cock.

  “’S gonna be so good, Matt,” he panted into Matt’s mouth. “Making love to you.”

  “Long as it’s soon. Need you inside me, babe.” Matt moved up to James’s earlobe. “Need you.”

  “Need you too.”

  INSIDE the kitchen, under the guise of doing dishes, Gabi watched James mauling her son.

  Good. She smiled to herself. She needed to find the vid com, but she just kept watching them fumble their way back into the bunkhouse, Matt’s leg wrapped around James’s hips, too consumed with each other to let go and focus on the task of getting through a doorway without hitting the frame.

  Finley came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He kissed her ear. “Does my little dominatrix wanna come out and play?” he murmured in her ear.

  “Just a minute,” she said, still absorbed in what was going on outside. Finley pulled back and saw she was staring out the window. He looked too.

  “Gah!” he shrieked, and sliding a little in his socks, turned and fled into the dining room.

  Gabi smirked to herself, and turned to find a vid hookup to call her dads. She had orders to report in on developments in this area.

  About the Author

  While spending most of the last three years recovering from Lyme Disease, ANNE TENINO started writing again. The Lyme Disease led to the demise of her “real” job, meaning she suddenly had the time. She began writing for her own entertainment in third grade, but life intervened, and she didn’t get around to submitting anything to a publisher until the week of her 40th birthday. In the long, rainy, Pacific Northwest winter, writing is sometimes a mood-saver.