Smoke and Mirrors

by Lillian T. MacGowan

  Before Naim could say anything else, Deck huffed in exasperation. “Okay. Don’t laugh.” He poked a finger at Naim. “You better not laugh.”

  “I won’t laugh, Deck. It’s okay. You don’t actually have to tell me; I was just—”

  “Don’t. Laugh.”

  “Deck, really—”

  Before Naim could get anything else out, Deck let loose of his hand and pulled the book out from under the pillow.

  “It’s a good goddamn story!”

  Naim blinked curiously at Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

  He didn’t laugh, but he did smile.

  “I’ve heard that,” he said, taking the book from Deck’s hand. “I remember Marie and Eli both being completely useless for three days after this came out. Marie called off work on the third day, utterly devastated, as she said. I never have much time to read good stories.” Deck squirmed, mortified, and Naim’s lips twitched and his eyes shone with unnamable feelings. “Are you enjoying it?”

  “It sucks.” Deck frowned, still embarrassed. He felt like a little kid. He hadn’t been expecting Naim this early and really didn’t want to be caught out reading Harry freakin’ Potter. Naim was brilliant and European and cultured and shit. He should have been reading Camus or some shit. “I mean, it doesn’t suck. It’s just—fucking everyone is dying.” Brilliant Deck. You should swear more in front of him. That’s impressive. He frowned harder.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that. If it’s so sad, why are you reading it?” he asked gently.

  “Well, you can’t not, right? It’s a series. Gotta find out how it ends.”

  Naim breathed a soft laugh. “Sounds like you already know. The story”—he turned the book over in his hand—“it’s about growing up, right?”

  Deck frowned and thought. “Hm. Yeah. Yeah, it pretty much is. Only with magic and trolls and giants and sh—things.” Deck wasn’t stupid by any means, but he’d never found himself in a situation in which he particularly wanted to sound smart. He was turning pink and for the first time found he was having trouble looking at Naim.

  “I think there’s magic and trolls and giants in real life too.” Naim scanned the back of the book. “I haven’t read it, but I don’t think everybody dies.” He shifted it to his right hand and took Deck’s back with his left. “Like in real life.” He was still scanning the book with interest.

  That got Deck’s attention, and he was able to sneak a glance at Naim. How did he keep managing to turn him inside out like this? He wasn’t talking to Deck like he was a sad kid or an idiot, he was just thinking out loud. By not trying to comfort Deck, he was comforting him in a way in which he was totally unaware.

  “I, um. I wanted to read it a while ago, but I didn’t have time.” There was something Deck wanted to say, to explain more about the book, but he struggled. It was frightening and made the space behind his eyes swell and ache. He twined his fingers with Naim’s, looking at his feet at the end of the bed. Naim squeezed his hand lightly.

  “DID YOU START the series as a teenager?” Naim prompted.

  “No. No, I was older.” Deck was quiet for a few seconds. “My brother was a kid, though. He was young enough when they started.” His voice wavered almost imperceptibly. “Adam loved that shit. Ate it up.”

  Naim didn’t say anything. He just ran his thumb in soft circles over the top of Deck’s hand

  “HE NEVER… HE didn’t get the chance to read this one. The last one.” Deck was staring at the back of the book in Naim’s hand, not seeing anything. “So I wanted to—” he stopped. He was being stupid. Don’t say that out loud. “Sorry.” He shook his head, and his nose twitched as he looked back at his feet.

  “Tell me.”

  Deck was quickly learning that he could deny Naim nothing. If Naim said Eat babies for me, Deck knew he would eat a baby. And if he asked about Adam, Deck knew he would tell Naim about Adam. Taking a deep breath through his nose, still staring at his feet, he tried to make his voice strong, but he couldn’t. “I wanted to…to tell him how it ends.” His voice stuck and faded, and he felt shaky.

  “You talk to him?” Naim slowly opened and closed his fingers, threaded through Deck’s.

  After a minute Deck answered him. “Yeah,” he admitted in a whisper. “A lot.”

  Naim put the book down on the bed and reached out, hesitated for a beat, then softly ran his hand along Deck’s arm. “I’m glad,” he whispered back. Then he lifted Deck’s hand to his mouth and placed a soft, gentle kiss to his knuckles. Deck looked as far up as he could and blinked, wrestling back tears.

  Chapter Six

  “Hey. Hey, hey!” Deck spun the wheelchair around one-handed, grinning and yammering before Naim was fully in the door. He had the day off, but he’d told Deck he’d come by later, after some errands. It was after five, already dark, and Deck had been waiting anxiously all day. “Look what I can do! Hey, what’s in the bag?”

  Naim chuckled and shook his head while he set a large shopping bag on the floor. “None of your business. What can you do?” he asked Deck, who appeared alarmingly close to trying to pop a one-handed wheelie. “Actually, why are you in the chair and not in bed?”

  “Just came back from some big hummy machine.” Deck spun in a circle, then came back around to face Naim, grinning merrily. He grinned even harder when he realized Naim had asked him why he wasn’t in bed and he’d not said anything remotely inappropriate.

  Naim shook his head in amazement as he took off his scarf and coat and threw them onto the bed. “I’d be sick twice if I tried to do that. Is that what you wanted to show me? Because if you do it again, I may be sick just watching.” He stuffed his hands self-consciously into his front pockets—a constant habit whenever he wasn’t being Dr. Moreau.

  “Ha!” Deck snorted. “No. But I’ll stop because I don’t wanna clean up sick, and the nurse on duty right now is kinda bitchy.” Naim raised an eyebrow but stayed silent as Deck’s grin grew wider. “Wanna see? You ready?”

  Naim’s bangs fell in his face, and he nodded, his smile growing. He knew what Deck wanted to show him, but he’d kept his mouth shut just in case his doctors decided against it. Deck’s abject joy over this latest milestone made Naim feel warm and young. Deck’s eyes glowed and danced in harsh hospital light, and their clear but smoky color reminded Naim of the olive trees he used to play in as a child. Before Marsielle.

  “Okay. Okay, watch. Are you watching?”

  “Yeah, I’m watching.” Naim laughed.

  Facing Naim and locking the wheels of the chair with his right arm, Deck looked up, beamed, and carefully, while stretching his neck, produced his left arm from his side, raising it almost six inches from his body. He held it there for a few seconds. “Look. I have two arms. Two hands! I can do shit!” Pure glee shone from his eyes.

  Naim laughed, always living with a strange sense of apprehension at how easy and comfortable it all was. “I can see that, Deck. That’s fantastic.”

  “And they did it this morning.” Deck pouted, giving Naim a pointed look. “Forever ago.” He lowered his arm, still weak and, he fucking hated to admit it, pretty painful. But it was out of traction. A guy could do all kinds of things with two arms. Two hands.

  Naim’s smile got bigger. “I know.” He chuckled at the surprised, slightly annoyed look on Deck’s face. “I spoke with Dr. Glover yesterday; she said she thought you were ready.”

  “Wha? You knew?” Deck’s face fell. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Naim was surprised but warmed by Deck’s disappointment; it had never occurred to him that something like this would matter. Deck looked dejected, and Naim knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Deck.” He looked up into Deck’s face, and that suddenly felt right. Naim realized how much time was spent with Deck prone, looking up at him. It wasn’t natural from such a kinetic body.

  “I didn’t know you wanted it to be a surprise. I—” Naim steadied himself and bit his lip as his toes curled. “I talk
to your doctors,” he admitted. “I’ve been keeping up with your chart.” Deck could see the embarrassment and tension on his face and instinctively understood this wasn’t something he’d wanted Deck to know, that he kept tabs on him and that it mattered so much.

  Deck blinked with surprise that turned into pleasure. “You do?”

  “Ehm. Well, yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell me I was getting unchained? Butthead.”

  Naim pinched Deck’s calf through the sweatpants he wore for rehab, and smirked when he yelled. “She wasn’t a hundred percent sure. She said that things looked good, but she needed to see how you were before letting you keep it off.”

  He still knelt in front of Deck, who looked down at him. Deck could get used to that; seeing Naim gazing up at him all sweet and soft, with those hot-fuck eyes and impossible lashes. Deck wanted butterfly kisses from those lashes, preferably with Naim’s mouth on him somewhere and fistfuls of black silk raining through his hands. He blinked. “Oh. Well.” He blinked again, trying to focus and shake the visual out of his head before trouble started in his lap. “But it’s cool, right? I mean, look.” He held his hands up in front of him. “Two hands.” He grinned again.

  Naim chuckled and stood. Deck was disappointed. Naim…on his knees…in front of him…what? Naim was saying something. “What?”

  Naim gave him a look. “I said I’m glad it wasn’t a surprise.” He moved to the bag he’d left on the floor.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because then I can surprise you.” Naim brought the bag to Deck, who looked at it suspiciously. “You’ve been so sullen since the snow came,” Naim started, referring to three days earlier when the first unexpected snowfall of the year caused all the boys to abandon Deck in his room and run outside like children to smash each other’s faces in it. Deck had been gutted, telling Naim that he loved winter, and every year since he was a kid he would go outside and watch the first snowfall. He’d been pouting ever since, so Naim was particularly glad to hear his arm was coming out of traction, knowing that Deck could use the cheering up. Then he’d got an idea.

  Pulling a gigantic, black down coat out of the bag, Naim held it up. “It’s. A coat.” Deck blinked. What?

  “Yup. It is.” Throwing it over a chair, Naim rifled through the bag again, pulled out a heavy gray wool blanket, tossed it into Deck’s lap, and finally fished out a thick pair of heavy, woolen boot socks.

  “Are you going skiing or something?” Deck asked him, a little annoyed. He had several ideas for different ways to take his brand-new, two good hands for a test drive.

  “No. I don’t ski.” Naim picked the coat off the chair and moved behind Deck. “Arm,” he said, over Deck’s left shoulder, “and take it slow.” He held the coat low and to the side so that Deck wouldn’t have to move or extend his arm any more than necessary.

  Deck slowly put his arm in the sleeve with a slight wince. “It needs some work still, I guess.”

  “Of course it does—lean—and it’s going to take a lot more physiotherapy and a lot more time,” Naim said as Deck leaned forward while trying to watch Naim push the coat down over his wide shoulders and back, then hold the right arm out for him.

  “Naim. What are you doing?” he asked, suspicious but putting his right arm into the sleeve.

  Naim moved back in front of him, knelt again, and started putting the thick socks on Deck’s feet, over his blue hospital slippers. “Taking you on a field trip,” he answered, tugging the socks up. He glanced at Deck, who was looking down at him in a way that he was seeing more and more lately. Not salacious but…sensual. Naim felt his face redden as he glanced back down and was acutely conscious of the warmth spreading through his body. He stood and moved quickly to the side. Just in case.

  “A field trip? What do you…” Deck’s eyes brightened. Naim kneeling in front of him again had distracted him, and he was glad for the blanket in his lap. He’d begun to learn and feel confident in the idea that Naim felt it too. As flustered and self-conscious as he got, the flush in Naim’s face wasn’t just embarrassment; his breathing changed, Deck could see the pulse point in his neck trip and race, and more and more he noticed that in these moments, Naim would move awkwardly, shifting in his seat or leaning forward on his knees. It burned.

  Now it looked like he was about to do something…really fucking romantic.

  “Come on. Blanket,” Naim said, all business and bundling himself back up in his coat and scarf. It wasn’t freezing, but it was starting to snow again when he’d arrived, and no less than three other doctors—Jen included—would take a piece out of him if they found out what he was doing. He’d lose even more pieces if Deck weakened from the outing.

  To make up for his lack of inappropriate comments earlier, Deck chuckled. “I think I like it when you’re being bad.” He tucked the blanket around his lap and legs, mildly annoyed over looking like a geezer, then not caring how ridiculous he looked because Naim was taking him outside to play and this was like, the best day of his whole life.

  “Ready?” Naim asked. Before Deck could answer, he started, “Oh. God, sorry.” Deck had no idea what he was talking about until Naim bent over him and reached down to zip his jacket and smelled like that cologne he sometimes wore that was limes and tea, and Deck also began to recognize honey underneath it all because Naim was elegant, and he bet Naim tasted like honey too. His hair was pulled back just off his face, the rest of it hanging all loose and wild, and a drift of the living, thick black stuff fell past Naim’s ear and tickled Deck’s nose, and he leaned in to smell it more and managed to catch Naim with a soft kiss on the cheek that surprised and caused them both to let out a tiny breath.

  “Okay, you…you’re ready,” Naim stammered and swallowed back another breath. Deck would almost swear that Naim was trembling, but maybe it was him.

  Slinging his messenger bag across his chest, Naim moved behind Deck, unlocked the wheels of the chair, and pushed.

  “Ya know, neither of my legs are broken or anything. You know I can walk, right?” It was a fucking kiss on the fucking cheek. Deck had kissed his grandmother like that a thousand times. Jen, Laura, even Freya. Hell, there was that one time when he’d gotten roaring drunk on some frozen girly shit that was loaded with tequila at a barbeque at Mac’s place, and he was pretty sure he I-love-you-man’d Liebgott and kissed him on the cheek. Possibly, maybe more than once.

  This felt so different. He wished it hadn’t been so fast; he wanted to remember every sensation, but it was already fading from him, like a wonderful dream. Deck licked his lips, trying to get a taste of Naim from them. He’d been dreaming about Naim a lot lately.

  “I know. But taking a patient outside—in the bloody snow—is frequently frowned upon. Particularly by my supervisors. I’m already looking for trouble; I’m not having you get tired and weak because there’s no way I can carry your gigantic ass back up here.” Naim was grateful for the easy, normal conversation. Deck had surprised the hell out of him with that small simple kiss, and it was absolutely stupid and childish to feel so unglued by a granny peck, but he was. He just was. Deck’s lips had touched his face, then vanished before he even knew it was happening, but he could still feel the place on his cheek where they pressed; high up, on his cheekbone, above the scruff of his it’s-my-day-off beard.

  Naim had already begun to suspect that he was in trouble. This thing with Deck was starting to spin on its own momentum, and he already felt things, thought things, wanted things he knew he shouldn’t and didn’t know how to handle. And it panicked him more that it only seemed to panic him when he wasn’t with Deck.

  “My ass isn’t gigantic. Are you going to get in trouble?”

  “Wanna go outside?” Naim ignored his question and lifted a brow at him. Deck grinned that ten-thousand-watt grin, and Naim’s chest clenched. It was too warm indoors all bundled up.

  As soon as they moved outside, Deck took a huge gulp of fresh, cold air and laughed. Who knew something as simple as outs
ide could be the greatest thing in the universe. He heard Naim chuckle behind him, and his calm grew.

  Who knew getting a copper pipe through the chest would be the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

  Naim wheeled Deck down the sidewalk that wound around the back of the hospital, through a quadrangle and into a patchy garden area that held a small gazebo, complete with wheelchair ramp. Deck’s head practically spun on his shoulders the entire time, and, surprising even himself, he was silent. Deck looked at everything, taking in the world like he’d never seen it before, just like the enormous puppy that he was in this moment.

  Naim was glad that Deck couldn’t see him from the chair, knowing that his own face reflected feelings and a peculiar joy that he wanted to hoard all to himself, not knowing how long it could last. He pushed the chair up the ramp to the gazebo with far less difficulty than Deck expected, given his tremendous weight. Naim wasn’t as slight as he looked, and Deck desperately, painfully ached to know what he really did look like. “I’m not going to let you sit in the snow, but we can watch it from here.” Naim put the brakes on the chair, lifted his bag off and placed it at his feet, then took a seat on the edge of a bench, next to Deck.

  Deck’s smile was wide but serene, his eyes shining, and his cheeks turning pink in the cold. He looked out onto the world and breathed, enthralled by the simple sight of his breath turned to fog in the winter air. The snow came down in a light flurry, catching and sparkling in the streetlights, and the small garden felt almost warm in the tangible quiet, the whole world muffled gently by the powder. There was nothing but the feeling of clean and new, with snow glimmering in the light, and Naim next to him smelling of citrus and honey and the love of his life.

  “One more surprise,” Naim said, moved by the look of wonder and peace on Deck’s face. Deck had the most expressive face he’d ever seen. He wore humor, rage, sadness, joy, even boredom like a tattoo in his expressions, but this was something new to Naim. Everything started to feel like something new to Naim. His voice choked out rough, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that if he let himself, he could cry.