by Dirk Greyson
“Heavenly,” Barty whispered, and Penelope purred. The scene was so domestic and relaxed that Jim was having a hard time remembering the events of a few hours earlier. The fallout and investigation would be there waiting for him when he went into work in the morning, so he was happy for a few hours of peace, and to have them with Barty was an added bonus.
He continued stroking until Barty’s eyes began to get heavy, the warmth and gentleness of taking care of Barty lolling him into quiet peace. Barty’s eyes flitted open and then closed, only to open once again. Finally they drifted shut, and Jim gently let his hands slip away and placed Barty’s legs on the sofa. Once Jim stood, he spread the throw over Barty’s legs and left him and Penelope sleeping together.
Jim went to his office and called Deidre. “How are you holding up?” he asked when she answered her phone.
“I’m doing okay.” She was about ready to cry—Jim could hear it in her voice. “I worked so hard, and to have the celebration of years of work end like this….”
“It doesn’t change how good you are, and none of this is your fault. This happened, and we’ll find out who did it.” She needed reassurance more than anything. “You do have connections with the police department, after all.”
She chuckled, and Jim hoped some of her nerves went with it. “I’ll remember that.”
“Even if you don’t like what I do,” Jim said, and she was silent.
“We were wrong, Jim,” she said quietly. “All of us. Mom and Dad saw it too. They saw how you put yourself at risk and covered Mindy and then how you took off after the guy while everyone else was hurrying into the house.”
“That’s nice of you to say and all. But it doesn’t matter much. That part of things was always a problem everyone else had. I love my job, and I am who I am. I can live with that.”
“How is Barty holding up?” Deidre said, and Jim left the office, speaking quietly as he went across the hall to the family room doorway.
“He’s asleep on the sofa right now. And you probably don’t want to hear this, but he looks like an angel. I know he isn’t perfect or anything. No one is, but he’s pretty special in his own interesting way.” Jim watched as Barty slept on.
“You have this thing for geeky academics,” Deidre teased. “This is what, your third one?”
“The first two broke my heart,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”
“Hey. The heart will break and heal as many times as you need it to. That’s the beauty of it. Besides, I think Barty is one person who’ll break his own heart before he hurts you. Don’t know how I know that, but I do. So if you’re going to take a chance on anyone, it should be him.”
Jim didn’t respond.
“Damn it, you stubborn ass. You can rattle around in that house alone for the rest of your life, or you can open your heart and take a chance. We all live with that same decision. So you were hurt—so was I, and I’d take all the heartache of the losers I brought home just so I could have Franklin and know when I had found him.”
“You don’t understand. The things I’ve seen families do to one another, not just ours—you have no idea the calls I took years ago. I once found a wife nearly beaten to death by her husband because she overcooked his beans.” Jim would never get the image of the woman out of his head for as long as he lived.
“Do you think Barty will act that way?”
“No.”
“Then there you are. Don’t let our fucked-up family keep you from having one of your own.” Deidre sighed. “I have to go. The girls need their dinner, and then we’re going to have a story-time evening. I nearly lost one of my daughters. I think Franklin and I need to make some changes in our lives, and they start tonight.”
“Good for you. Maybe it’s time I made some changes as well.” On that note, they ended the call and Jim put his phone in his pocket. Barty continued sleeping, wiggling his nose every few seconds and then swiping at something in the air around him. As Jim continued to watch, Barty squirmed, and Penelope jumped to the floor and walked away, her bed moving more than she liked. Barty rolled onto his side and fell back to sleep, whining and whimpering softly.
“Barty,” Jim said softly, going over to the couch and rubbing his back. “It’s all right.”
Barty shook awake and then rolled over, blinking at Jim. “There were people shooting at me.”
“I figured. The crap during the day always surfaces when I’m asleep too. Some nights I barely sleep at all, and others my head is quiet and I can rest.”
“How do you make it stop?” Barty asked, sitting up.
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I’ve been shot at multiple times and hit a few. The vest stopped one, and another time I was hit in the leg. I’ve been cut, scraped—you name it. And so far I’ve been lucky that nothing has left me permanently hurt. Though sometimes at night, I live them all over again. I guess over time it fades. Some of them have for me, and now the nightmares come less often.” Jim sat down. “You asked what helps—being really tired.” He took Barty’s hand.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over being shot at,” Barty said.
“Let’s take our mind off it for a while.” Jim got up and tossed Barty a controller.
“Video games?”
“It’s pretty mindless and fun. This is what I do after a hard day. There’s nothing like a little play to round out the bad times.” He slipped the disk in the machine, and they played a dual game. Winning or losing didn’t matter; all that did was letting his head go somewhere other than to shots whizzing around him, screams of fear, and God knew what else. Jim looked over at Barty. He loved his smile, and tonight it was a grin as he whizzed around the track. They played for a few hours, and laughter temporarily replaced anxiety and concern. Jim knew it was only temporary, but it helped nonetheless.
“I really like this game.”
“I have others we can play.” Jim put in another and taught Barty how to drive a race simulator. It was equally fun. A lot of the games involved shooting, so he stayed away from those. This was to forget, a kind of release from his day. He hoped it would be the same for Barty.
It was late by the time they stopped playing and went upstairs to bed. “Good night, Barty,” Jim said outside his door before kissing him. Jim waited until Barty went inside and then entered his own room to find Penelope in the middle of his bed. “What are you doing here?” He lifted her off the bed and put her outside the door. She raced back in before he could close it and jumped on the bed once more, making herself comfortable. “You know Barty’s going to miss you.” He approached, and she raised her hackles for a second and then settled once again on the bed. “Damn cat.” He lifted her off the bed once more, walked across the hall, and knocked on Barty’s door. “Did you forget someone?”
Barty opened it, and Jim stared at Barty’s bare chest. “There she is.” He took Penelope, pressing her to his chest, and went back inside the room. “Thanks, Jim.” He put her on the bed, but she jumped down and raced across the hall into Jim’s room.
“She’s acting weird,” Jim said as he returned to his room. Penelope was once again in the same spot in the center of his bed, and Jim swore she was grinning up at him.
Barty came in and leaned over the bed. Just as he reached for her, she scampered away, leaving Barty flat on the mattress, his little rear end up in the air. Jim couldn’t help staring and had to look away before Barty turned back around. “What’s with you?”
Penelope raced out of the room, and Jim rolled his eyes.
Barty sat up on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I’ll find her and take her in with me.” He hurried out of the room, and a few minutes later, Jim heard the door close across the hall. He closed his own and got ready for bed.
Jim turned out the light and climbed under the covers. He should have been tired, but he ended up staring up at the ceiling, wondering what Barty was doing and if he was okay. More than once he thought about getting up to
check on him. He even got out of bed, but went to the bathroom for a drink of water instead. He felt rather stupid. Barty had said he was interested, and Jim had backed off. Now he wished he’d brought Barty into his room. Even if they didn’t have sex, it would have been nice to have someone with him so he wasn’t so alone. Jim rolled over and closed his eyes.
He was half-asleep when there was a knock on his door. It cracked open, and Barty came inside, the dim glow from the hall light slicing through the darkness.
“Jim.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming about getting shot. I don’t know what to do. It won’t stop.” The unsettled fear in Barty’s voice was more than Jim could take.
“Come here.” He lifted the covers, and Barty sat on the edge of the bed. “I know what that feels like.”
Barty turned to him. “Are you sure?”
“It’s okay,” Jim said, and Barty lay down. Jim lifted the covers over him and tugged Barty close. Dang, he felt even better in his bed than he had in his arms.
“I feel like such a baby. I should be able to handle this. I’m a psychologist, and I’ve been trained for things like this my entire academic life.”
“Doctor, heal thyself,” Jim said softly. “Sometimes we’re too close to the things that happen to us. I deal with victims all the time, and I’ve been told that I’m good with them. But when I was shot, it was different. I’ve helped numerous gunshot victims over the years, but I was a mess for a long time. Being a victim of a crime is more unsettling than anyone can imagine.” Jim closed his eyes, nestling his hard-on against Barty’s ass. He didn’t really give it much thought. It wasn’t as though he could control it.
“I think I can now,” Barty said. “You know it’s difficult for me to put myself in other people’s shoes.”
“Yes. But I think that’s because your life has been so different from most people’s. But you share something with them now. One in three will be affected by a crime. So now you know how it feels.”
“I want to catch this guy and rip his arms off,” Barty said. “He attacked me and nearly hurt your little niece. When I first began studying psychology, I wanted to learn how to be a better person and deal with others. Then I wanted to learn about myself, and what I found scared me. Because I had a lot in common with them, at least from a psychological standpoint. I used to get so frustrated.”
Jim listened as Barty told his story, tugging him a little closer.
“I told you I graduated high school early, but it was a hard time for me, with Nana’s death, and before I graduated, the kids weren’t nice.”
“I can imagine.”
Barty rolled over slowly. “I was picked on a lot. I was smaller than the other kids and an easy target. One kid shoved me into a locker all the time. That was frightening. Nana told me to let it go and continue studying. That I would be leaving there soon. She was right, but by the end, I used to fantasize about what I’d do to Milo…. Milo Macaffrey. I wanted to kill him.” Barty quivered in his arms. “I remember sitting up at night, thinking of ways that I could end his life. I thought about getting a gun and shooting him. I did poison him once.”
“What?” Jim whispered.
“He used to steal my lunch, so I baked some cookies with ex-lax in them. That time, he took my lunch but ended up spending the rest of the day in the bathroom. I didn’t feel bad, if that’s what you think, and when Nana found out, she was so mad. I told Nana I wasn’t sorry, and she sat me down and asked me what would have happened if he’d had an allergic reaction or something. I remember shrugging and telling her it would serve him right. The thing was, I didn’t care. He was nothing to me, nothing at all.”
“Okay…,” Jim said, feeling chilled even as Barty radiated heat. This was a part of Barty he never expected.
“That’s when I started studying and learned about people like me. Nana sat me down and explained why what I’d done was wrong and why my reaction frightened her so. ‘Barty, honey, if you don’t care about other people and hurting them is easy, then how will you get along? You need to be a good person.’
“‘But they hurt me,’ I remember saying.
“‘I know. But you hurting that boy also hurts me,’ Nana said. ‘Always remember that hurting someone else is also hurting yourself and the people who love you.’” Barty sniffed. “That I understood, because I never wanted to hurt Nana.”
“She sounds like an amazing woman.” He tugged Barty closer.
“She was, and she had a way of helping me understand these kinds of things. So after that I was always careful around other people. Once I learned about myself, I was extra careful. At least then I knew the cause, but I didn’t know what to do about it, other than to consciously put myself in other people’s positions. I didn’t like getting hurt, so I didn’t do things to others that I didn’t like. It’s strange trying to learn empathy as an adult when most people learn it as a child.”
“But you’re a good person. I know that.”
“I’d like to think so. But I know that this monster is inside me. Well, a potential monster.”
“Barty, would you kill someone who pissed you off or got the better of you?”
“No. But it isn’t that simple. Whatever is going on in our shooter’s mind built up over a long time. Years of resentment, pent-up rage, being given less than what he thought was his due—all of it has built until he snapped. That’s what happened to me and Milo. He’d picked on me and pushed me until I sort of snapped. I went to a great deal of trouble, planning to do what I did. I had to get the ex-lax, bake the cookies, and keep track of the special ones. I had to put them in my lunch for a few days until he decided to steal my lunch. I did it coldly, thinking I was in the right. He had hurt me, and I was going to get him back. Thankfully he only got the shits, but it taught me what I was capable of.”
“But you know and understand, and I hope you’re happy now,” Jim said and saw Barty nod in the dim light. Then he felt him move closer, his legs entwining with Jim’s.
“I think I am. I have work that I love, and I get to do research. My students are good, for the most part, and I have Penelope,” Barty added.
“Is that all you want?” Jim asked in a whisper.
“Sometimes I’m really lonely. I live alone, and outside of work, I don’t see many people. My sister suggested I get a cat for company. Nicole is probably my best friend, but she doesn’t live near here.” Barty rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “She was the one who told me that the weird feelings I had when we first met were because I liked you.”
Jim closed his arms around Barty, lightly stroking up and down his back. He was so tempted to go lower, to run his hands over Barty’s butt, to press them closer. “Is loneliness all there is… to this?” He’d been through enough heartache already, and he didn’t need still more.
Barty stiffened. “You think I would do this and be with you… for sex… just because I was lonely? I know how to take care of things… with my hand. I don’t need to have sex with someone just to have sex. And I haven’t been lonely for the last few days because I’ve been here with you. Granted, things have felt strange staying here instead of home, but I think I like it.” Barty leaned closer. “I like you.”
He closed the gap between them, and Jim returned Barty’s kiss, deepening it. Energy and heat poured from Barty, and Jim couldn’t hold back. He had been all evening, trying to make sure Barty had a good first experience. Jim had been on simmer for what felt like hours, and holding Barty was perfect. God, he hoped his phone stayed silent, because he did not want to interrupt this.
Without breaking the kiss, Jim pressed Barty onto his back and into the mattress. He tugged at the hem of Barty’s T-shirt, pulling away from his lips only long enough to get the shirt over his head.
“You have to promise me that you’ll speak up if you don’t like something.”
Barty nodded. “I don’t know where to touch first,” he whispered. “I’ve… I’ve wat
ched you and wondered what you’d look like out of your clothes since I first saw you.” He leaned into Jim’s chest, and Jim sat up. He straddled Barty and tugged off his own shirt so Barty could look his fill. He stilled as Barty ran his hands over his chest and down his belly. Jim closed his eyes and soaked in Barty’s explorations. It had been too long since he’d been touched in an intimate way, and he hadn’t known how much he missed it until Barty reawakened some deep part of himself with the tenderest of caresses.
“Take your time,” Jim whispered into the darkness, shaking slightly. Barty sat up, and Jim held him around the waist. Lips, hot and wet, touched his chest and then encircled a nipple. “Damn.” He lolled his head back as Barty trailed his soft hands over him.
“Is that okay?”
“Honey, if you do something I don’t like, I’ll tell you, but if you keep that up, things are going to be over really fast.” He felt like a teenager again. This was new for Barty, and in a way, that newness seemed to be heightening things for Jim as well. He smoothed his hands down Barty’s shoulders, opening his eyes. Barty was beautiful. Not in the conventional way, but he was unique, and there was strength and fortitude in him that Jim thought very appealing. There was something to be said for someone who understood his lot in life and made the most of it. That was Barty in spades.
Jim brought his hands up along Barty’s neck and then to his cheeks, guiding them back into a kiss. He loved touching Barty. There was something unusual about it, like he was meant to touch Barty, hold him. They fit in a way he didn’t with Garrett, but he had no idea why. Jim guided Barty back down onto the bed, sliding his lips down Barty’s neck to his shoulder. He licked and sucked. There was probably going to be a mark; hell, Jim hoped so. He liked the idea of seeing something of his on Barty.
“Don’t…,” Barty said. “What will everyone say if I go to class with a hickey?”
Jim paused. “They’ll think that their professor, a very quiet and learned man, got himself some action.” He leaned forward once again. “You taste like the sweetest chocolate ambrosia.” He inhaled deeply, letting Barty’s scent fill his nose. God, this… Barty, had been worth waiting for.