Summer - 19. I Wanna Marry You

At over one hundred years old, the Russell Senate Office Building is the oldest of the three structures housing United States Senators. CJ was early on the first day of his internship, but by no means was he the first person in the office.

“Good morning, CJ. Did you have any problems getting in?” Tristan was one of Senator Rubio’s legislative aides and was sitting at the office’s front desk using the computer terminal.

“Morning, Tristan. No problems, my dad dropped me off on his way to the Pentagon. This is sort of on the way for him.” The boy was wearing the dark charcoal suit his father had bought him earlier in the summer, a white button-up shirt with a red, white, and blue striped tie, and highly polished black shoes.

“It’s great to see you again. We spoke briefly when you came in earlier in the summer, but I’m sure we’ll get a chance to spend more time together over the next weeks. Your dad's in the military?”

“Yeah, he’s a Captain in the Marine Corps. He’s assigned to the staff of Colonel Ray Edwards at the Pentagon.” CJ wondered if people in the office knew he had two dads. If they didn’t, they might get confused when he mentioned them.

“You’ll have to tell me about him later. In the meantime, here’s an envelope with some info for you to read over. Get yourself a cup of coffee, and pick a desk by the back wall in the main room. Those are reserved for our summer interns. You, and the young lady who’s the other intern, will spend the morning meeting the Senator’s staff. After lunch, both of you get to hang out with me. We’ll spend the time discussing my job and my current assignments.”

“Thanks, Tristan.” CJ had been somewhat nervous as he walked into the office, but the warm smile and friendly attitude of the man put him at ease. Tristan appeared to be in his late twenties, had short, dark-brown hair, and just as dark eyes. He was a handsome guy and his neatly trimmed beard added to his good looks. “Oh, and you hafta tell me where you got that great shirt, I want one.”

“How was your first day, CJ?” César and the boy were in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Not bad, Dad. Everyone was very friendly and the chief of staff took us out to lunch. Senator Rubio wasn’t in the office. He’s flying in from Miami tonight. We’re supposed to meet with him tomorrow morning.” CJ was preparing a watermelon and tomato salad with fresh mint leaves, while his dad worked on an asparagus, onion, and mushroom quiche, which was almost ready for the oven.

“Did you get to do anything interesting?” Father and son were dressed alike in gym shorts, t-shirts, and sneakers; they had played basketball earlier and not yet showered. César wore a black, sleeveless shirt inside out, while CJ’s t-shirt was pale green with Mountain Dew printed on the chest. Brett was upstairs showering at the moment, and the two of them would follow once the dinner prep was finished. One of the things CJ loved about his new home was having his own bathroom, even if he’d only had to share the one in Miami with his little brother.

“We spent the morning meeting all the staff. A few of them got real friendly when they realized I could speak Spanish. They started chattering away about missing the Cuban food in Miami. The other intern didn’t look happy when that happened, I think she felt left out.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s okay. Maybe a bit rednecky? She looked kinda surprised when the chief-of-staff asked me if you and Papa were still planning to join the Senator for lunch on Friday. Not sure if the look was about the dads part or the having lunch with Senator Rubio.”

“CJ sounded embarrassed when he asked permission to buy another suit.” Brett had stopped in the middle of flossing his teeth.

“Come on, babe, give the kid a break. He’s gone from living in a home, where larger expenditures were planned, to having access to a lot of money. How the hell would you react to such a change?”

“I know, I know. I guess I just want him to be comfortable with our finances. He feels he needs another suit because of his internship, and he has a card we’ve told him he can use. He could have gone and bought the suit without asking permission! Have you reviewed the statements to see what he’s spending money on?”

“Of course! I’m an accountant and I’m required to.”

“Okay, smartass, what has your review revealed? Turn off the light and come to bed.” Brett had finished his evening bathroom routine and was ready for some cuddle time.

“Nothing big: meals, transit pass, what I guess were some t-shirts, and groceries. He took out a couple of hundred dollars and bought the iPad as a birthday present for his brother.” César took off his boxers and threw them at the marine, who immediately brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Pig! Wanna smell the real thing?”

“You bet! He asked permission to buy the iPad anyway, so that doesn’t count. I guess he’s used cash to pay for tickets when he’s gone to the baseball games and…” Brett was unable to finish the sentence as César gently pushed his head towards his groin.

“Open up, Jarhead. I’ve got a baseball bat for you to play with.”

In January 2011, following the enactment of legislation to repeal the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy, General James Amos, Commandant of the Marine Corps, promised the Marines would lead the way in the implementation of the statute.

In December 2012, United States Marine Corps Captain Matthew Phelps asked his partner Ben Schock to marry him while touring the White House. It’s believed to be the first same-sex couple proposal at the President’s home.

In January 2013, Mark Thompson wrote, in Time magazine:

The Marines were the service most opposed to ending “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” But once they realized it was going to change, they saluted, got out in front of it, and have pushed hard to turn the same-sex issue into a non-issue in its ranks. They were the more agile – Marines would prefer “expeditionary” – force in dealing with a change that many thought would be significant, but really hasn’t been.

Colonel Edwards’ goal was to maintain the Marines’ leadership, following the partial repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act. Captain Brett Davenport was his point man in the effort.

“Please come in, Sergeant Reardon.” Brett stood up to shake hands with the handsome young man walking into his office. They had met before and had dispensed with military formalities while in private.

“Thank you for asking me to come by, Captain. Your assistant said you had good news for me.” Marine Sergeant Ulysses Grant Reardon had requested help when his commanding officer balked at approving some marital benefits for his husband Vance.

“That I do, Uly. After our last meeting, our office sent your CO a letter, signed by Colonel Edwards, reiterating the Corps' intention to lead the way in implementing the Supreme Court decision. We reminded him of his oath to obey his superiors, including the Commander in Chief, who had directed us to move as quickly as possible. I followed up with a call two days later, and was informed the benefits you had applied for had been approved.”

“Wow! You guys work fast, don’t you? That's wonderful news, Captain. My husband and I owe you a great deal.” The Sergeant displayed plenty of bright white teeth in response to the good news. “I’m not sure how Vance and I will ever be able to repay you.”

“That’s easy, you owe me nothing, but you can still do me a favor. Both of you come over for dinner, with my partner and our son, on Sunday. I’d love to meet your husband, maybe the two of you can give us some pointers. César and I are getting married next month.”

“How’s the political world treating you, bud?” It was Brett’s turn to fix dinner, CJ was sitting at the kitchen counter watching him work, while César was in the living area, on the phone with his brother.

“It’s pretty cool, Papa. Today I spent the morning following the Senator around to meetings. I’ve met a shitload of people who work for other Congressmen, and a few of them also. It feels like I’m being put on display. Like Rubio’s showing off his commitment to the young people of Florida. I know it’s bullshit politics, but I’m not complaining. I’m learning a lot and the people I’m meeting could be helpful if I ever run for office. I’ve got over fifty business cards in the last three days!” Brett was placing a blue cheese soufflé in the oven as César joined them in the kitchen.

“What’s bullshit, and be careful with my soufflé, Jarhead.” Brett was a decent cook but César was the foodie in the house; his blue cheese concoction was a great combination with a good piece of meat. Meat and potatoes were not enough for him, or CJ. The kid was turning out to be pretty good in the kitchen.

“Oh, Senator Rubio, and the staff, parading us around so he can show how much he cares for young people.” CJ watched as Brett took three large steaks out of the refrigerator, placing them on the counter. “Are you grilling those, Papa?”

“Yup. And I know, medium rare for you. No comments about the size of the meat allowed, okay?” Not being a stickler for so-called proper cooking techniques, Brett was wrapping three sweet potatoes, in damp paper towels, getting them ready for the microwave. ”Hey, I invited two guys over for dinner on Sunday.”

“Anybody we know?” asked César as he took two beers, and a previously prepared green salad out of the refrigerator.

“Uly, the Marine Sergeant I mentioned I was trying to help, and his husband Vance. The jarhead’s very good looking and his husband’s a model―you’re not to drool while at the table, CJ.” Brett smiled, wiggled his eyebrows, and stared at his son who stuck his tongue out in response.

“CJ, get glasses, plates, forks, and knives. Brett, go get the grill started, and take care of the steaks. I’ll deal with the soufflé and the potatoes. Move it guys, I’m hungry.”

“Damn, babe, when did you learn to bark orders like a drill instructor?” Brett ran out of the kitchen before anything could be thrown at him.

Senator Marco Rubio knew his summer internship program was a great learning opportunity for the participants. Being a smart politician, he was also aware the setup contributed to increased visibility, which might help broaden his base of support. After hearing CJ’s story, his actions against a bully, and who his dads were, he was very interested in the kid. He quickly approved the offer of an internship spot. As someone who lived in DC, the boy could easily be invited to events now and then. It could support the idea he was open to working with everyone. Meeting the boy’s fathers was also of interest to him; being friendly with a Marine Corps Captain and a partner in a Big Four accounting firm, could prove to be beneficial.

Although he received no preferential treatment, CJ garnered extra attention. Particularly from female staffers who thought he was adorable.

He enjoyed tagging along with the Senator to meetings, participating in discussions with the Chief of Staff and legislative aides, and helping respond to correspondence sent by constituents. Praise, damnation, job requests, and pleas for assistance in a multitude of areas were all part of it; so many different issues made him aware of how much was expected from elected officials by the voters.

“CJ, your dads are here. Why don’t you come out front to get them and then introduce them to the Senator?” Tristan gave the kid a warm smile as he spoke, they had become friendly and the man enjoyed spending time with the inquisitive youngster. CJ returned the smile, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and slipped it on as he walked towards the reception area.

“How are you, Dad?” CJ greeted his father, giving him a kiss. “You look good, Papa,” he added, repeating the kiss with his other father. Colonel Edwards must have asked Brett to wear his dress blues to the lunch meeting. The man knew how to play the political game; having his guy on friendly terms with a US Senator was a plus in his book.

The marine’s appearance made quite an impression on the staff; both men and women looked and smiled. It probably wasn’t sexual attraction with most of them. It was a well-built, good-looking man, wearing the most recognizable uniform in the armed forces of the United States.

“Come on, dads, I’ll introduce you to Senator Rubio.” The boy led his dads to the large office used by the Congressman. He knocked on the open office door and walked inside, he knew they were expected. “Senator? These are my dads: Captain Brett Davenport and César Abelló.”

“Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to the opportunity. Your son is quite a young man. He’s impressed everyone he’s met so far.” CJ blushed at the compliment as his dads shook hands with Senator Rubio. Lunch was pleasant and the conversation was relaxed. The two men didn’t shy away from indicating their disagreement with the Senator’s position on certain issues. The politician, in turn, made it clear he stood by his opinions, but wouldn’t allow them to interfere with a friendship.

“You guys wanna hear what I found out after you left?” CJ was in the kitchen getting beers for his dads and a Mountain Dew for himself. The two older men were sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV set.

“President Obama called and wants to appoint you to his cabinet?” The three men, wearing shorts and t-shirts, were watching the baseball game between the Washington Nationals and the Los Angeles Dodgers. They planned on being at the game the following evening and decided to stay in and order pizza tonight.

“Ha, ha. Funny man, Papa. They sent the other intern home. Tristan told me they got rid of her just a few minutes after we went to lunch with the Senator.” CJ handed out the beers and sat on the floor, with his back against the couch his fathers were sitting on.

“Thanks, CJ.” César took a sip from his bottle of Dos Equis before putting the beer down on the coffee table. “What happened?”

“Tristan told me after we left she started bitching about ‘the faggot spic, his faggot fathers, and all the special attention they were getting.’ A secretary overheard the comment and told the chief of staff who called the girl into his office.” The boy took a bite of his pizza, once again loaded with black olives, something Brett always gave him shit about.

“Ouch, that wasn’t very smart of her. If anyone in my office made a comment like that, the Colonel would probably chew their ass out until there was nothing left.”

“Well, Tristan told me she was informed the Senator would not abide discrimination or derogatory remarks, after all he was a member of a minority group himself. Her internship was terminated, and she was asked not to return the following week. He told me they would be sending a nasty letter to her sponsor and her school.”

“I’m kinda glad the girl ran her mouth as she did.” César dropped his shorts and slipped into bed next to Brett.

“Why’s that?” Brett looked at his partner with surprise.

“Except for the asshole at Rolling Thunder, CJ’s been surrounded by supportive individuals for the past sixty days. I don’t want him getting complacent about how some people react to gay men.” César gently ran his hands over Brett’s back. It wasn’t so much a massage as a caress.

“I guess you’re right. A fifteen-year-old gay boy will probably find plenty of jerks who’ll hate him just for who he is. As long as he’s aware of it, he’ll be better able to deal with it when it happens.” Brett reached into his nightstand, grabbed the lube, and handed it to César. “I’m glad you’re on top of things tonight.”

“Jarhead, wanna open a bottle of wine?” César was in front of the stove, watching over two large pots. Tonight’s meal wasn’t fancy: penne with a Bolognese sauce, which was simmering in one of the pots―it was homemade and frozen sometime last month—grilled yellow squash and an arugula, olive oil, lemon, and parmesan salad.

“I had lunch with the Senator today.” CJ had previously told his dads he didn’t spend a lot of time with Senator Rubio but the man always talked to him when in the office.

“Any special reason for it? I’m surprised he’s taken time to eat with you twice.” Brett was opening the bottle of wine as he spoke. “You want a little wine with dinner, kiddo?”

“Sure, Papa. I think last Friday’s lunch was more about the two of you than about me. He’s leaving town tomorrow morning and said he wanted to say goodbye to me. He asked me to stay in touch, said the three of us would get invited to some events in the future. and he offered me a job.”

“What? Pasta’s ready, guys. Come fill your plates. What kind of job could he offer a fifteen-year-old kid?” César passed out pasta bowls and turned off the stove, placing a serving spoon in the pot with the sauce.

“A longer internship next summer. He said I could work for a couple of months instead of a couple of weeks.”

“Are you interested in going back?”

“We’ll see. I’m not sure I can handle working for a conservative Republican for more than a couple of weeks.”

“Anybody home?” It may have been Detective Kennedy’s thirty-ninth birthday, but it was he who came bearing gifts as he opened the door and walked into the townhouse.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Tommy! What you got there?” CJ walked around the kitchen counter to give Tommy and JP hugs. He had convinced his dads to let him cook a birthday meal for the cop and had been cutting strawberries for the baby spinach, strawberry, and toasted almond slices salad he was preparing.

“Hey CJ, those are part of the present I gave my guy for his birthday and he’s sharing it with you and your dads. Where are they, by the way?” JP smiled at his adopted nephew, as they separated from their hug, and he headed toward the kitchen. He carried two bottles of wine, from his family’s vineyard in the Hunter Valley, which he placed in the refrigerator.

“Upstairs. They went up to shower after we finished playing hoops and should be down in a few minutes. Oh, wow! These are great! Thanks, Uncle Tommy!” The boy had unrolled one of the cloth cylinders handed to him, to reveal a white polo shirt with an embroidered logo on the left side. A blue catamaran silhouette with PP Crew on top, and Alexandria, VA at the bottom.

“You’re welcome, CJ. It was my birthday present from JP: four dozen shirts. I’ll pass them around to the crew―pun intended―before our next trip out. We’ll either look real cool or real dorky.”

“Who’s gonna look dorky?” asked Brett, walking towards Tom and wrapping the taller man in a hug. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

“Yes, Tommy, happy birthday,” said César repeating the embrace of the smiling cop.

“Look, Dads, Uncle Tommy brought us all Crew of the PP shirts!” CJ handed the two other shirts to his fathers as he kissed each one of them on the cheek. “Gotta get back to the kitchen, need to put the potatoes in the oven.”

“Thanks for dinner, CJ.” The four men and the teen were sitting on the deck above the garage, finishing a last glass of wine while looking out on the Potomac River. “Who knew tequila, lime juice, soy sauce, and a bunch of ground, dried spices would make such a great marinade for chicken.”

“An impressive meal.” Brett spoke through his cigar's smoke cloud. The four adults were enjoying Gloria Cubana Corona Extra Large Maduros which César kept in a small humidor for special occasions. “Between dinner tonight, my birthday party on Saturday, and our wedding next month, you’re turning into quite an event planner.”

“I like it, Papa. I would have organized a bachelor party too, but I don’t know where the gay strip joints are.” The boy wiggled his eyebrows while his lips spread to reveal bright white teeth. The smile couldn’t get any larger.

“Asshole!” said César chuckling at the comment. “You said you wanted to talk about the wedding tonight, so let’s hear it.”

“Okay, guest list first. Dad, your boss and his wife will be out of town but you already know that. Same for the ambassador and his wife, Uncle JP. Everybody else on the list has accepted, we have a total of twenty-four people including the five of us. Uncle Tommy, you invited your partner. Nobody else on the force you’d like there? We got plenty of room.”

“No, CJ, the two guys I’d love to have there are unable to attend.” CJ thought he saw a note of sadness on the cop’s face; he’d have to ask his dads about it later.

“Uncle Danno already posted a sign explaining Rogo’s will be closed for a private party that day. His present to the four of you is the space and the food. The booze I know he worked a deal out with you guys and he’ll send you a bill.”

“He’s going to charge us cost for whatever we use and he’s also paying for the bartender.” César looked at his son and marveled at how well he was handling all the arrangements. He’d asked questions and taken notes during previous conversations and went at it, taking care of everything he’d been asked to do.

“I don’t want y’all looking like old farts so my present is the shirts we’ll all wear. Don’t look at me like that, Dad, you know I’ve got better taste in clothes. Anyway, they’re already paid for so you can’t argue with me.”

“Mate, who died and made you emperor? I thought the title still belonged to your dad!” The Aussie shook his head amazed at the kid’s self-assurance. “Bloody children!”

“Hey, watch the language. I’m at an impressionable age. One last thing. I want to read the vows each one of you writes beforehand. You’re not allowed to get too mushy and sappy.”

Over the summer, the Elite Eight grew to nine with the arrival of CJ, but dropped back to eight with Chip’s departure. It eventually increased to ten, as Danno and Trip integrated themselves into the group of men. Brett’s thirtieth birthday was on Sunday, July twenty-eight and César organized a small party to celebrate the milestone. All ten friends, plus two guests, would be there.

“Climb aboard, mates. You must be Sergeant and Mister Reardon, welcome to the PP.”

“Yes we are, sir, thank you. I’m Vance and he’s Ulysses―he’s the jarhead.”

“John Paul Smith, first mate of the PP, good to meet you both. I go by JP, or Pope, either one works. I’m one of the Ps in the boat’s name. César told me he and Brett enjoyed having you guys over for dinner.”

“We had a great time at their home, it’s a great place they have, and it was a great meal. Plus, their son’s an incredibly sharp kid.”

“Yeah, CJ’s great. All of us in our group have adopted him as our nephew. Head on in, we’re waiting for one more guy to join us, and then we’ll cast off.”

Danno suggested having the party at Rogo’s, but JP and Tommy’s offer of their catamaran won out. The opportunity to spend a day out on the water, sailing on the Potomac, was not one Papa Brett would ever pass on.

“Hey, Sarge, Vance, glad you could make it!”

“CJ! It’s good to see you, buddy. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Hey, I just made the phone call, Van.” The boy returned Ulysses’ hug and turned to give Vance one. “My dads asked me to do it, we all had fun when you guys came for dinner.”

“Where do you want me to put this, CJ?” Vance was holding a flat package wrapped in silver paper printed with the Marine Corps Eagle, Globe, and Anchor logo.

“Come on, we’ll put it in my cabin and I’ll show you where the head is. Sarge, go say hello to Dad and get yourself a drink, we’ll be right back.”

“You have your own cabin?”

“Today I do, only five of us will go back out, after dropping most of the guests off after the party. Last couple of times we’ve been out, the boat’s been full, so I slept on the couch. I’m really happy you guys came today, Vance. And that you agreed to come to the wedding.”

“We were flattered by the invitations, wanted to meet the other couple in the wedding, and the rest of the friends we heard so much about over dinner.”

“Then let’s go back topside, I’ll introduce you to all my uncles.”

“Come sit down, Jarhead. I think there’s a pressie or two for you to open, mate.”

“What’s with you Aussies―pressie, Brissy, g’day―can’t y’all pronounce entire words?” Brett loved his long-time friend’s accent, the banter about it had been going on for years.

“Ah shut the bloody hell up and sit. Sarge, Vance, since you guys are the newbies, you go first.”

“You’re up, Vance.” CJ stood behind his dad trying to check out the present when it was unwrapped. “I know what it is but haven’t actually seen it.”

“This may appear a bit egotistical, but Ulysses forced me to do it. CJ’s responsible for the framing, he told me where to go and the place did the rest.” Vance said, handing the birthday boy the package he’d brought with him. When Brett unwrapped it, he found a picture of the man sitting across from him, wearing jeans and no shirt, displaying a six-pack of what appeared to be rock solid abs, as he held an American flag aloft.

The silence was broken by a loud 'SLURP', which caused the Sarge and his model husband to blush, and everyone else to laugh. “Last fall I met this photographer, a young guy named Kyle Goodson, who splits his time between New Orleans, Louisiana and Emerald Beach, Florida. He’s an executive in a large, family-owned hotel company, who's gained quite a reputation with his photographic work. His images are owned by collectors worldwide and even a few museums. He asked me to pose and this is my favorite photo from the shoot.”

The next gift was a joint one from the rest of the guys. The seven friends gave him two frames, with five photographs each, mounted horizontally. Each image was of a gorgeous man holding the American Flag.

“Mate,” explained JP, “we wanted to keep the patriotic theme going for our favorite marine so we all chipped in and your son coordinated the framing once again. He insisted all the bloody pictures had to be matted the same, I think he inherited his other dad’s anal-retentive gene!”

“We’re up, Dad.” CJ sneered at JP, kept his smartass comment to himself, walked around the couch, and sat on the coffee table, right in front of his fathers.

“Babe, we’ve not added anything to the art collection in a while and we only have one photograph in it, I decided to get you a present you would enjoy and would fit in with what we already have at home. These guys decided to follow along with the theme. You and Alex Minsky hit it off when we all met, and him being a fellow marine and all…”

César handed Brett another flat package which when unwrapped revealed a Michael Stokes’ signed image of Corporal Minsky. It was the picture Facebook had repeatedly banned and showed Alex naked, covering his genitals with a hand.

“That’s from CJ and me. I paid for the picture, he paid for the framing.”

“Thank you, guys. I love it! And I love both of you!”

“Nice way to build a collection of hot pictures, Papa, we’ll do it again in five years when you hit the next big one. In the meantime, let’s focus on my sixteenth which is just around the corner.”

“Asshole!” called out his dads as the rest of the crowd laughed.

“Fine! Be that way, I know where I stand with you old men!”

“Did you have a good time?” They were in their room, laying down naked and uncovered. They’d thrown the bed sheet off and it laid puddled at the foot of the bed. Brett was wrapped around César, holding him tight against his body. The room was cool, but their skin was warm after a day spent in the sun; that was sufficient to keep them comfortable.

“I had a great time! I never get tired of being out on the boat with my friends. Too bad Sarge is being transferred to Pendleton before the end of the year. He and Vance fit in perfectly with the gang.” Brett tightened his hold on his partner a bit more as he spoke.

“I think our boy’s going to miss them, Brett. He barely took his eyes off the marine or his husband.”

“Well, they’re pretty and nice eye candy―but they’re not you. Thank you for the great present, and for taking such good care of me all the time. Today helped reinforce something I’ve felt for a long time.”

“What’s that, Jarhead?

“That I love you a little bit more each day, and that I wanna marry you.”