In the Fishbowl - 22. Chapter 22

A/N: Thanks to Jim for editing!

All he wanted was a kiss. Perhaps the long kind that led to more kissing, and then more than kissing... Travis didn’t think it was too much to ask for. Not now. His day had been too long, and now he wanted a reprieve. He was tired of thinking about Kyle, wondering if there was some truth in what his best friend had accused him of. Why any of it was supposed to matter. Travis was tired of pretending that none of it bothered him, and annoyed that because while at first it hadn’t, Aiden Knightly had followed him around their apartment with dark, concerned eyes and subtle probes meant to get Travis to talk some more. It made Travis wonder if he really had treated Kyle unfairly, withheld a part of himself that he should have made more apparent--given that he was so hell-bent on declaring that he didn’t care about who knew one particular detail about himself. But then, he couldn’t quite come to that conclusion because he still believed that whatever problem Kyle had was just plain silly. Thinking it over in circles, Travis had finally had enough of himself, enough of Aiden’s concern. He wanted to remind Aiden of Owen’s kiss in a manner sure to offend, just to make him go away. He didn’t, though. No need to start a fire on the other side of the forest when he was already staring flames in the face. He’d made an excuse to leave instead, and without thinking, he’d headed straight for Tenth Street.

It wasn’t like Travis hadn’t been dodging Phil Clayton’s calls lately. He’d figured making an appearance when he was actually in the mood for a good fight seemed appropriate enough. Only, halfway there he’d found himself wishing he had something better to do. It was cold, for one thing. Then, there was the strange feeling pricking his senses which had him feeling like a child about to sneak out the back window while grounded. As soon as he discovered that it was guilt he tried to shake it off, but only became more annoyed when he started thinking about how Kyle didn’t approve of his fighting anymore than he approved of who he liked to kiss. And, knowing that Kyle wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t approve, Travis continued on in silent defiance. Dennis Gordon wouldn’t even return his calls; damn if Travis was going to start wondering what would offend him, too.

He was almost a block away from his destination when the wind had picked up, and bundling his coat tighter, he imagined that had it been daytime, he’d be heading to a different place altogether. He found himself wondering if Sara would have anything to say if he’d walked into her room raving about friends who weren’t loyal and kissing boys who he had no business kissing. He’d find a way to make it her fault, of course.

Those thoughts alone had him coming to a dead stop in the middle of an abandoned intersection with a red light facing him. It wasn’t the fact that he’d blame Sara for his troubles which had decided to descend and bother him. He was much too accustomed to doing that when a sour mood struck him. He was past feeling guilt for it, and when he did, he brushed it aside. What bothered him now was just as silly to Travis as the way Kyle was acting. Did Sara know he was gay? She’d been the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had. Of course he’d been young back then, but all the times their paths had crossed, he couldn’t help wondering if... and then he brushed that concern away. It wasn’t supposed to matter. It was no one’s damn business. Again he shook his head, incredulous about why everyone could make something as simple as sex into such a messy ordeal.

Travis had barely resumed his walk before a mysterious phone call from John Gordon had sent him in a different direction entirely. He’d nearly blown it off, headed to make a few bucks with Phil Clayton, and had only been glad he hadn’t when he realized that Dennis was involved in Mr. Gordon’s complaint.

Travis hadn’t asked Dennis anything about his father. He didn’t even ask why Dennis was in that restaurant, as much as he wanted to. He supposed the problem was that Dennis liked to make it all too clear how much he didn’t care about his family. He could hide his feelings well enough, but it was clear that he’d been embarrassed to have Travis walking in on whatever he was trying to accomplish.

Having no desire to make things worse for him, Travis had been on Dennis Gordon’s side from the moment he walked into the Happy Fiesta. He’d eaten his food, made light of things with conversation that had nothing to do with the Gordon family, and he’d only shrugged in response to John Gordon’s cold looks when he realized that they were still invading his territory forty minutes later.

Dennis wasn’t exactly giddy when they left for his place, but then, that wasn’t exactly unusual. It had been his suggestion to turn off the lights in the basement and put in a movie, so Travis had assumed that after a long day, they’d both finally be able to let go of a little baggage. Relax.

Which brought him back to that kiss, and the fact that Dennis wasn’t at all cooperating. Travis might have been able to deal with that and gone home to brood some more, if the guy would have had the decency to reject him in a more obvious way. But, that’s not what was happening, and it wasn’t the usual hesitation that Dennis had rid himself of only the night before. He didn’t push Travis away, and he didn’t tense at every touch. Instead, he simply wasn’t there. He was completely absent--how he’d pulled that off with Travis’s hand halfway down his pants, Travis would never know. It bothered him.

Without warning, even fully understanding why he needed the interruption, Travis pulled away from Dennis to sit up and throw his legs over the edge of the bed. Without his clothes the chill from the cracked window reached his skin away from the contact of another body, and with a quick glance he blamed the coldness on Dennis, who was still stretched out on the mattress behind him. His blond hair was tousled and the rise and fall of his chest was deep enough to hint at his excitement, if the rising in his pants wasn’t enough. But to Travis, Dennis only looked exhausted.

Travis scratched at his head, and hunched over, rested his chin on his knuckles. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do next. He only knew that whatever it was that they had been doing, just wasn’t working; like, the equipment was all there but the directions had gone flying out the window on the way to home.

The mattress shifted, the metal bedframe squeaking, and Dennis’s knees appeared over the side of the bed alongside Travis’s. Travis turned to meet his eyes, only to find that they were nowhere near him, but focused on something insignificant on the floor, somewhere close to where Valentine had stirred from a nap and looked up at them, likely expecting to get a little attention of her own.

Resigned to the fact that his objectives were no longer playing out as he’d hoped, Travis sighed. “You know,” he said quietly, “seeing how this room is the only place where I’m actually allowed to touch you, you could try being a little more... enthusiastic about it.” Travis lifted a hand to Dennis’s arm, running his palm over a stiff bicep and the curl of Dennis’s shoulder, but it wasn’t the cool glare Dennis was suddenly sending his way that had Travis pressing the backs of his knuckles against the base of Dennis’s neck. “Shit. Do you have a fever?”

It was an odd time to notice, but Dennis was burning up. Not sweating, or clammy, but hot to the touch. Travis would have liked to take credit for that, but knew better in this instance.

“No,” Dennis responded stiffly, making the effort to push Travis’s hand away. More rejection.

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No,” Dennis agreed, his tone softening, if only a little bit. He’d gone back to looking at the floor. Travis wanted to ask more questions, but held off on it. He was sure that anything he had to say at the moment would be sure to offend. Eventually, patience won out, because Dennis finally looked at him sidelong. “I don’t think this is a good time.”

Not a good time? Not a good time for what, exactly? Travis would have liked to know. Dennis was having a bad day. He was having a bad day. Sex was supposed to make everything better, damn it, and given that they’d already started, he figured he was just about frustrated enough to excuse himself to the bathroom. At least afterwards one of them would feel better. He shifted where he sat just thinking about it. He looked at Dennis, his eyes drifting downwards until they reached the top of his pants, unbuttoned, unzipped, and still strained enough to draw attention. Travis didn’t understand how he couldn’t be facing the same dilemma. “Can it be a bad time later? Now’s not good for me.” He made a point to smile, attempting to reduce some of the tension that had surrounded them, but Dennis made no effort to return it, only looked at Travis expectantly.

Like he expected him to get dressed and go away. Travis’s eyes narrowed at that, too. Never before had any guy wanted him out of their beds after he got them hot and bothered. Dennis was hot, but he seemed more bothered, and that was the problem. More of a problem, was that Travis had a feeling that Dennis had no intention of talking about it, and quite frankly, Travis didn’t want him to talk about it, either. Nothing was going to ruin the mood faster than bring up John Gordon, but...

Travis sighed, and before Dennis could do anything about it, had an arm around his neck as he leaned back, taking Dennis with him until his blond head was tensely positioned at the crook of Travis’s shoulder. “Why’d you go see your dad?”

Dennis became so tense at the question that Travis half expected him to shove him out of bed. But that didn’t happen. Instead, Dennis’s response was silent protest and a dirty look when Travis started to pet his head, much like he’d do to comfort a disgruntled dog. “Look,” Travis said, “I don’t like to push you... well, not when I know you’re gonna hate it,” he corrected himself at Dennis’s incredulous glare. “I’ve been good about not bringing up your dad. Kind of. If you don’t want to say what’s bothering you, then don’t. But I think you should because you know you want to.”

“Travis,” Dennis warned.

“Fine. Go to sleep.” Travis lifted the remote and turned off the television, leaving them in darkness before he forced a sheet crookedly over their even more crooked positions.

Dennis didn’t last a full minute before he lifted himself onto an elbow and strained to make out Travis’s face in the dark. His eyes were closed, and Dennis imagined with some annoyance, not to mention embarrassment, that he was attempting to will away the erection that was still felt against his own bare side. Travis wouldn’t be successful; Dennis knew him well enough now to know that; but it certainly wouldn’t stop him from trying. “And are you going to sleep?”

The shine of Travis’s eyes became apparent when he opened them. “Not if you keep moving,” he said grudgingly, shifting his hips to a safer distance.

Dennis frowned, not only because he knew Travis was aggravated with him, but also because Travis had misinterpreted his question. “You don’t actually sleep over here. Ever. It’s not gonna hurt my feelings if you take off.”

Travis sat up until their noses brushed and Dennis moved back. “If you want me to go, you’re actually gonna have to say it,” Travis informed him, not knowing why he was suddenly so bothered. He was quick to blame it on everything else he was dealing with.

Dennis had to think about it. They both knew he’d be the first to tell Travis to get lost if he didn’t want him there, but the fact that he had to think it over didn’t make Travis feel any better and he sat up some more, about to say so. It was better for all concerned that Dennis decided to speak first. “Stay if you want. I’m just saying, you don’t sleep.”

Travis’s expression turned decidedly suspicious, but he settled back against the mattress, finally smirking when Dennis shoved a pillow beneath his head. “How would you know? You’re always snoring too loud to notice.”

“Is that why you don’t sleep?”

Travis raised an eyebrow and laughed, mostly because Dennis looked so serious when he’d only been joking. Dennis didn’t snore; yet he wasn’t about to deny it. “No. I just... sometimes I do better in my own bed, alright?”

“You have nightmares, and you sleep with a flashlight.”

Travis’s brows grew closer together. “How do you know about...”

“You told me about the nightmares,” Dennis reminded. “I saw the flashlight... unless you use that for something else.” He suddenly shook his head, dismissing whatever it was that had made its way into his mind. “Never mind. I don’t think I wanna know. So do you want one?”

“What?”

“A flashlight,” Dennis said impatiently. “I’ve got one in the closet.”

The fact that Travis had assumed he was being made fun of only served to make his surprise amusing, and suddenly eased the rejection he was still stinging from. “Are you serious?”

Dennis shrugged. “Will it help you sleep?”

The corner of Travis’s mouth twitched and he lifted his head from the pillow to press his lips over Dennis’s for only brief moments, so light that it was hard to tell if he’d been there at all. “Nah. I think I’m okay.”

Dennis sighed, as if he’d fully expected to go get that flashlight and now that it wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t decide what to do with himself. Travis only smiled at him, and then closed his eyes again. Dennis didn’t know why he was suddenly so irritated by that, seeing as how only moments before, he’d wanted Travis’s attention off of him. But, that was because his own attention was elsewhere, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. Dennis had wanted a little peace to figure it out, not to be left alone. Travis closing his eyes made him feel alone.

Standing, Dennis kicked off his jeans almost lazily, adjusted his boxers and stared down at Travis, who was still stretched on the bed awkwardly. That meant Dennis would have to sleep awkwardly, too. This only added to his irritation because if he couldn’t sleep well, he at least wanted to sleep comfortably. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak up about it. He couldn’t bring himself to get back into bed, either.

Dennis opened his mouth and tried to say Travis’s name, but no sound came out, and he was chagrined to realize how uneasy he was suddenly feeling. Nervous in his own room. It wasn’t the first time where Travis Beltnick was concerned, but different because this time Dennis felt that he had something to feel guilty about. Whether that was from blowing off Travis’s advances or something else, it didn’t seem to matter so much as the way Dennis was feeling more insecure than he ever had.

“He was always like this,” Dennis suddenly blurted. His voice sounded hoarse, and while he knew Travis had opened his eyes, he didn’t look to see it. “My dad was never a nice person. Not once. You know how he met my mom? When they were in high school he told her he’d take her out on a pity date. I think the only reason why he ended up falling for her was because she could laugh at all his bullshit and give it right back to him.” In the dark, there was movement on the mattress as Travis pushed the pillow back to the head of the bed and made room, but Dennis still made no move to join him. “He liked me best when he thought I was gonna turn out like him,” he continued. “When my brother started into sports, my dad took me to all his games. Talked me through them all... made it seem like just... a game. But now I think it was just him trying to show me how to pick out Lyle’s faults; and when he was done with Lyle, I didn’t get to think anything was a game anymore. I thought I was okay with that, because I thought I wanted to be like him. I don’t. I don’t wanna care what he thinks, either. But I think I do, and it’s pretty fucked up... I don’t want to be anything that he wants me to be because it’s the only way I know how to show him that I don’t care. But I think I do.”

Dennis had finished, but Travis didn’t respond. Maybe he knew that Dennis didn’t really want him to, or maybe he just didn’t know how. Dennis didn’t care either way, and when he did find it in himself to get back into bed, the breath he released was a relieved one as the bed shifted and Travis made himself comfortable; relaxed as he lifted his fingers to Dennis’s shoulder, urging him to do the same. He did so slowly as the tension he was feeling relented, and for a long while he stared blankly up at the ceiling, aware that Travis was still there, likely wondering about him.

“Are you going to say anything?” Dennis asked, when he realized that while he was feeling less tension, the silence between them wasn’t something he wanted to fall asleep to.

“Do you need me to?”

Dennis turned towards Travis, making himself comfortable on his side before he finally shook his head. “No.” Dennis shrugged the sheets up over his shoulder, becoming awkwardly still for only a moment when Travis made a point to get closer, slipping one knee between his. Travis liked to be touching. Dennis was getting used to it. But it was his own fingers that tentatively lifted to the lean muscle of Travis’s thigh, inviting him to finish what he’d started.

***

Dennis’s ear was attuned to Lacy Chapman’s voice.

“He wants me to meet him tonight. Maybe I’ll bring it up then,” she was saying of Chris Dovan. “I mean, you’d think it wouldn’t be too much trouble for him to explain what we’ve been doing.”

She wasn’t talking to Dennis, of course. She’d been surprised to find him working when she came in for a standing appointment to have her hair trimmed. An older woman was talking to Dennis, purring something about how perfect his hands were for washing her hair. He was new to this hair-washing thing, but when his boss at the salon found out that he was also washing dogs in his free time, she’d decided that he was good for more than clean-up and being a stand-in every time one of the ladies wanted to flirt.

“You want the talk,” Lacy’s stylist, a new girl everyone called Barb, commented.

“I want the talk,” Lacy agreed, suddenly looking troubled. “It’s not like I’m asking for much. I just wanna know if we’re dating. And, how seriously we’re dating.”

Lacy definitely wasn’t talking to Dennis.

“You think he’s seeing someone else?” Barb asked.

“He wouldn’t have the time,” Lacy replied as she turned her head, looking over Barb’s work in the mirror, as if she could actually tell there was a difference in losing half an inch of hair. “He’s always at the club.” She paused to smile to herself. “He’s been making time for me, though. Yesterday when I didn’t show up after class he called to find out where I was. I know he’s thinking about me.”

Travis called Dennis the night before to find out why he wasn’t home, where Travis had shown up. There’d been no standing plans, and Dennis had been working late. He recalled Travis sounding rather put out by it.

“And the other day he brought me lunch while I was working.”

Dennis’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Travis had brought him breakfast twice now. Actually, he’d shown up at the Cheselys’ with sausages for Valentine, claiming he’d been in the area, which was a good seven-mile bus trip from where he was on his way to work. It was just convenient that he’d ordered enough food and had enough time to sit on the Chesleys’ front steps and eat it with Dennis.

“It sounds like he really likes you,” Barb insisted.

“Yeah? Then why won’t he kiss me?” Lacy asked wryly. “We’ve been out three times now and I’ve given him every opportunity.”

Dennis made a face. Travis didn’t have that problem. He kissed him all the time, they just never went out. So, Dennis was content to believe that he wasn’t dating anyone.

“You could try clubbing him over the head,” Barb suggested, and Lacy smiled at her.

“I’ll keep my options open if this talk doesn’t go well.” Lacy suddenly caught Dennis’s eyes in the mirror, and he was annoyed to realize that he’d been openly staring, along with eavesdropping.

She didn’t seem inclined to embarrass him over it, though, and flashed the same smile she had when she’d walked into the salon and saw him there. He gave her a short nod and then focused on getting his own customer out of the chair, deciding that her hair looked just as clean as the poodle’s he’d taken care of earlier that morning.

He cleaned up his station, no longer listening to the conversations around him as Lacy went to check out, so there was no expecting it when the blond with the pretty smile suddenly appeared in front of him. She regarded him almost expectantly, and confused by it, he pulled out the chair at the sink, as if he’d interpreted her presence as his next customer.

“No thanks,” Lacy replied, amused. “If I go outside with wet hair I’ll end up with pneumonia. When do you think it’ll be warm again?”

Dennis shrugged. “Tomorrow?” Talking about the weather with Lacy Chapman. Huh.

“So I haven’t talked to you lately,” she said, abruptly changing the subject, and then laughed at the odd look Dennis flashed her. “I know, we don’t talk, do we? I meant after Valentine’s day... I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for Leo...”

“Don’t,” Dennis quickly cut her off, feeling guarded. But, her frown inspired him to change his tone. “I mean, it’s okay.”

Lacy shook her head. “Listen, Leo’s said enough of what happened between you, but it’s not like you were bothering him, and he didn’t have to be a jerk about it.” Lacy held up her hand when Dennis opened his mouth to interrupt her again. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for dancing with me. You’ll have to do it again the next time you’re at the club.”

Dennis didn’t seem to know how to respond to even the suggestion that he go back at all, so he didn’t, and that seemed fine with Lacy, who smiled at him one more time before announcing she was out of there and walked out the glass door, zipping her coat as she went.

Most of the time she didn’t know what to make of Dennis Gordon, so she didn’t make anything at all. She wouldn’t have given him a second thought if he hadn’t turned up hanging out with Owen Dovan. Owen had always chosen his friends carefully, or at least it seemed that way to Lacy. So, if Owen liked Dennis, then she figured there must be something to it. And, she had to admit that the Dennis she’d run into lately wasn’t the same Dennis who she was tempted to clock in the nose every time he opened his mouth. She didn’t know this new Dennis any better than she’d known the last one, but she found that she didn’t mind making an effort to be nice to him. She got the impression that he needed someone to be nice to him more than he wanted it.

Live and let live, she supposed. Unless, of course, the liver happened to be living camped out on the hood of her car, waiting for her like the stalker she’d already decided he was.

Towards the back of the shopping center parking lot where she’d left her car, Lacy came to a wary halt as she met Ryan Sader’s eyes and sheepish smile as he sat relaxed, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets to ward off the cold that had revisited the town in the last week. Perhaps out of habit Lacy represented the perfect picture of exasperation, and maybe something of what she was really feeling caused her to nearly turn on her heel and walk away.

“Oh, come on,” Ryan called after her before she could get anywhere. He slid off the car, landing on his feet in a fluid motion, and took a few steps forward, hands raised in defeat. “I thought we could talk.”

Lacy frowned at the puppy-dog eyes he’d turned on her. Ryan was good at making those. Fortunately, she was immune. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you smiled at me the other night. Up at Shadow,” Ryan replied, seeming genuinely surprised that she didn’t remember. “I saw you. And you said hi.”

“I was feeling generous.”

Ryan looked impatient as he continued forward until she had to look up just slightly to meet his eyes. He held out his hand. “Walk with me for a while?”

Lacy looked down at his palm as if she half expected it to bite her. “I can’t,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll end up forgetting I’m mad at you.”

Ryan’s hand inched closer in response, and after sighing as if he was leaving her absolutely no choice, she slipped her fingers against his.

***

The lobby of the Gordon Dealership wasn’t very busy, but Travis sent even the few customers that came his way to someone else. He was too busy holding down the desk. Literally. With his elbows. At least, convincing himself that the whole thing would fly away without the weight of his body to hold it down made him feel better about doing nothing for the last hour. And, his sudden unwillingness to work couldn’t have been all bad, he figured, since John Gordon had passed by him three times without saying a damn thing about it.

Yawning widely, with no intention of excusing himself for it, he lifted his fingers gently to the corner of his left eye, which he knew would be black if he looked in a mirror. He had no intention of looking in a mirror. But the pain felt strange, having not been there for a while. Walking down to Tenth Street the night before had been an unplanned venture, and now that he thought about it, fifty bucks wasn’t worth getting out of bed with Dennis, who probably would have kept him company had he bothered to wake him up. But, if he really wanted to think about it, Travis knew that he’d admit the trip was worth ridding himself of a restlessness that had been persistent since his first attempt to call Kyle since their argument. Kyle hadn’t answered, or bothered to call him back, and losing the friendship for something that seemed so ridiculous had been wearing on Travis for days now. It made all of Kyle’s intrusions, and all of his lecturing seem like less of the inconvenience Travis had always taken them for. He missed his friend, and was irritated that it took Kyle giving up on him to realize it. Given up on him. That’s sure as hell what it felt like. Kyle wasn’t supposed to give up on him. He was supposed to expect more from him. It seemed ironic that part of Travis wanted that when Kyle expecting more from him seemed to be the problem. Or maybe Travis was reading the situation wrong again; maybe Kyle just wanted him to be straight. The thought had him bitter.

Travis hadn’t been looking for a fight. He didn’t think he had the energy for it. But, that didn’t prevent a fight from walking up on him when a drunk college student accused him of cheating at a game of cards. It was insulting, of course, because for once Travis had been perfectly behaved during the game. He suffered the black eye for his troubles, but got to keep his money. Money he seriously considered blowing on something frivolous.

He was going to fall behind on his bills by the end of the month again, but for once he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about responsibility. That just tended to piss him off. He’d regret this line of thinking later, but he didn’t see the harm in pretending that a mountain of it wasn’t over his head for one more day. He could deal with it again tomorrow. Maybe by then Kyle would call him back and he could stop stressing about that. Or, maybe when he swung by the hospital Sara would have something to say to him. He’d been late to work just so he could visit her earlier in the day. That hadn’t happened, however, when one of the nurses informed him that Sara-the-silent had made a phone call earlier in the week. Ten minutes on the line. She was talking to someone, and Travis figured that it was her so-called sponsor. He was her sponsor. She was clean, and he was keeping up with the bill for it, not some guy who had only come to visit her twice since she went into the hospital and only had something to say to her when she called him. Usually, what he had to say made Travis fit to spit bullets. He still remembered Sara telling him that her sponsor had called him an enabler. Travis sure as hell was enabling something. He was enabling her away from polite society, where he figured she didn’t belong, anyway.

Travis was so busy thinking about the most aggravating woman in his life that he hardly noticed the most aggravating one in Dennis’s until she was right in front of his desk.

Beth Gordon in a blue blouse, reeking of perfume that might have smelled nice had there not been so much of it, had descended upon him with a glare that rendered him temporarily shocked as he straightened and looked down at her, wondering why she looked like she expected something from him.

Travis waited, meeting her eyes evenly until he finally gave up and made an expectant gesture of his own, arching his brow. He watched her look towards Mr. Gordon’s office, which was open, and then back at him. A subtle hint? Travis supposed so. He wisely refrained from laughing over the ridiculousness of the situation and shrugged his shoulder. “Sure,” he remarked, deciding that if she wanted to be shown in properly, there was no reason to deny her. She looked like someone had just pissed in her sandbox, and knowing that someone would likely be Mr. Gordon, Travis decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to kill the last few minutes he had on the clock with something interesting.

It seemed more interesting than he’d hoped for when he walked Beth Gordon to John’s office and she hurtled past him at the entrance; better still when John Gordon seemed to be engaged in a phone conversation with someone he called “Honey” before looking up with an expression that became priceless once Beth plucked the phone from his hand and slammed it down on the receiver.

John Gordon reached his feet to glare down at the short woman on the other side of his desk as if he expected his height alone would will her away, while Travis crossed his arms and leaned comfortably against the doorframe, wishing he had popcorn available for situations like this.

“What the hell are you doing?” John demanded.

“You cancelled my credit cards!” Beth bellowed at him.

Her fury over this sent a victorious smile over the old man’s mouth, and Travis’s eyes darted between the two of them as he wondered who was going to strike first. “You mean my cards,” John pointed out.

“You can’t do that!”

“Sure I can,” John insisted. “If I couldn’t, you’d be standing in your lawyer’s office right now. The only cards I can’t cancel are our joint accounts.”

“We don’t have any joint accounts!”

John grinned. “I know.”

Beth placed her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders and regarded him firmly. “Give me a card, John. It’s important.”

He snorted, moving to straighten papers on his desk that didn’t really need straightening. “Buy your own damn wedding, Beth. The one I bought was enough.”

“This isn’t about that,” she said coldly. “I need to get something for Dennis.”

It was hardly noticeable, but Travis could tell that this announcement had John’s attention. Hell, it had his, too, as he wondered what Dennis would have possibly gone to his mother for.

“What the hell does Dennis need?” John wanted to know. “That boy’s on his own, and he makes a point to say he likes it that way.”

Travis nodded his agreement. That sounded more like it.

“And look what a mess he’s made out of that,” Beth retorted. “I want to get him back to the house, John. Away from those idiot people who’re letting him throw his life away. I got a call from Gretchen Hail today, bragging about how great our boy was at washing her hair! Can you believe that? It was humiliating!”

“Who the hell is Gretchen Hail?” John responded, scratching his head as he reclaimed his seat at the desk. “And why would Dennis be washing her hair. He’s not having an affair is he?”

Travis rubbed roughly at his face, hardly able to contain a rising snort.

“It’s what he’s doing for work, John,” Beth said, sounding exasperated.

“I thought he was selling girlie things,” John replied--unhelpfully, in his estranged wife’s opinion.

“You need to help me get him back to the house,” Beth stated.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” John asked. He seemed to be getting bored with the conversation, and Travis wondered if this was an example of what Gordon parenting was supposed to be like.

“You just are! At least get him back working here; it’ll be easier to get him back on the right track if he’s close.”

To Travis’s surprise, John didn’t express the impossibility of that suggestion, but seemed to give it some serious thought, instead. Then his employer’s eyes cut in his direction, Beth’s following shortly after, as if she’d just taken notice of him. Faced with those two faces, he smiled smartly. “Your wife’s here to see you,” he remarked, and John’s mouth turned down at him, ignoring it.

“You talk him into taking a job here,” John suddenly ordered, looking at Travis. “That’s what I want.”

Taken off guard, Travis’s brow flew up, and a moment later while jolting himself out of the older Gordon’s fantasy world, slowly shook his head. “Um... no.” And that seemed final enough, except both Gordons were looking at him as if they didn’t understand the response, forcing him to explain, “See... he’d probably say that’s counterproductive, since he keeps telling me to quit.”

Both parents stared at him for a moment longer before Beth coldly turned away to face her husband. “What’s he doing, talking to this idiot, anyway?” she wanted to know.

“The idiot’s still here,” Travis reminded, only to be ignored.

“I’ll do what I can,” John said impatiently. “Meanwhile, you leave him alone. The last thing he needs is to be back in that house. God knows you’ve already ruined one son.”

Outraged, Beth made a point to look properly insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Lyle’s sitting under your roof for a good-for-nothing....”

Travis had had enough. His shift was over, anyway, and as he went to gather his things, he found himself wondering if Dennis would find all of this as funny as he did. It wasn’t likely. But still, he should probably mention it to him. After all, it wasn’t every day that your parents planned your demise. He figured Dennis would want to steer clear of whatever was coming, and that alone was enough of an excuse to go see him, and enough of one to wipe any trouble he could have gotten into with a different plan off his schedule.

***

Lacy pulled the heavy hood of Ryan’s coat over her head as she crossed her legs beneath her where she sat on the frozen hood of her car. He always seemed to find coats that just didn’t get cold, and she had it because she’d demanded it: the price he had to pay for her sticking around to talk to him. It seemed that it was worth it.

They’d walked around the shopping center, venturing into some places to get out of the cold now and then, and this had been the last hour and a half of their lives. Ryan spoke about a book she’d been meaning to read, but she was certain that his version was better, and likely more funny than the original. He spent twenty minutes trying to get her to come work with him at the grocery store where he was sure she’d understand his need to make fun of pickles like no one else, and he pried everything she’d been up to since they’d stopped talking out of her. But not once did he bring up what had caused their rift in the first place. Ryan simply seemed pleased that it had ended for the time being, and truth be told, so was Lacy.

She’d missed having that friendship--the one that allowed her to be herself no matter what the circumstances; and being around Ryan again made her realize that she hadn’t laughed nearly enough lately. Not to say she hadn’t been happy; it was just that there was always a different kind of happy around when Ryan was present. They could look at each other and laugh for no reason, and she knew him well enough that she could say what he was thinking before he had a chance to. She’d missed that kind of familiarity, and having it back didn’t make her very eager to lose it again.

“Want some more gum?” Ryan asked her, offering the last piece. They’d diminished the rest of the three packs he had with him early on in a race to see who could end up with the biggest wad of it in their mouths. Her jaw still hurt from it, and she declined with a shake of her head before watching him fumble with the wrapper and pop it in his mouth. His beanie was low on his head, nearly covering his eyes, and his sweater didn’t look fit for the weather, but he hadn’t complained once about being cold since he’d given her his coat. He hadn’t even suggested that they get in her car to test whether or not the heater wanted to work today, since his was on the other side of the parking lot. She didn’t want to give him his coat back, but she was beginning to feel bad enough to suggest they call it a day. Ryan, however, didn’t seem interested in ending their visit just yet.

“Do you really like Chris, then?”

Lacy smiled, half-shrugging the bulk of the coat covering her. “Yeah,” she admitted, and then looked at him oddly. “And why doesn’t that bother you?” she demanded, not bothering to hide her irritation over it.

Ryan laughed. “Why do you want it to?”

“I don’t know. It would be nice, I guess.”

“Chris isn’t to make me jealous, is he?”

“Of course not! I said I liked him,” Lacy stated. “But I never stopped liking you, either. You know?”

“So you stopped talking to me?” Ryan asked in the tone he most often associated with confusion.

“Well, yeah,” she replied, deciding that if they were going to get into this, it might as well be now. “You hurt me, Ryan. I couldn’t talk to you.”

Ryan suddenly rolled his eyes, and it took all of Lacy’s patience not to get angry over it.

“I told you once I never saw anyone else while we were together,” he informed her. “Don’t see why I need to say it again.”

Lacy’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not about that, Ryan. It was everything else. Maybe you didn’t see anyone else. But you didn’t do that for me. The problem is, if I would’ve seen someone else, it wouldn’t have mattered to you.”

“Only if he wasn’t good enough,” Ryan teased, but Lacy wasn’t smiling, and he sobered quickly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Lacy sighed. “I know you don’t.”

Troubled, Ryan slid closer to her, trying to search her face in the shadow of the hood covering half of it. “I just don’t get why it’s so hard for you to go back to the way things used to be. We’re good like that, you know?”

“Yeah,” Lacy agreed. They’d always made good friends; always said it. “But things aren’t the same as they used to be. If they were going to stay that way, we wouldn’t have tried being together.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been together before.”

“So, maybe that last time I wanted more from it,” Lacy replied testily.

Ryan’s frowned, not liking the way that Lacy suddenly looked very small under his coat. He was on fragile territory, he knew, and the look she cut him had him wondering if he really wanted this conversation as much as he’d thought he did. “You know I love you, right? That can’t change. Never has.”

“It’s never grown, either,” she remarked, and then continued before he could respond. “That’s exactly why I don’t know how to go back to the way things were, Ryan. I don’t even know if I can because I’m not over you.”

“Oh.” It was obvious that he didn’t know how to respond to any of this, but then, he’d just realized that he really had hurt her, just not in the way he’d thought. He’d broken hearts before. Knew it. But this was much more complicated. This was Lacy.

“I want to be,” she said confidently. “I’m going to be. But for now... it’s a real pain in the ass, you know?”

“Lacy...” he reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Ryan. I don’t want you to change who you are, and you can’t change your feelings for me. I’m okay with that. And like I said, I like Chris. But I’m not sure if I can like him and be around you right now.”

“You think he’ll get jealous?” Ryan asked carefully.

“I think he’s waiting for me to get over you, too.”

“Oh.... maybe if I talked to him...”

“You can’t talk to him because this isn’t about you,” Lacy informed him.

Ryan chewed at his lip, thinking things over. “I don’t like not being friends.”

Lacy sighed. “I know. Me, too. But, I think we can be... just don’t get upset if the wall doesn’t come down for a while, okay? I kind of need it there.”

Ryan nodded his head in the way that always made her wonder if he fully understood what she was saying, but the dimpled smile he flashed her was genuine. “Okay. I can live with that for now... we can still hang out, right? There could be food.”

Lacy laughed, looking thoughtful. “Well, if there’s food... you wanna go for pizza? I think lunch was supposed to be an hour ago.”

Ryan grinned. He was supposed to be on his way to meet Leo for tacos ten minutes ago, but suddenly, he couldn’t think of anything better than Italian.

***

Reilly must have let Travis in, because when Dennis was in the middle of putting his laundry away he walked into the Chesleys’ basement, ignored Valentine, who would have jumped clear into his arms if he’d allowed it, and made a beeline to the bed where he threw himself onto the mattress, hugged the pillow and made a display of outright exhaustion. Dennis only glanced out of the closet for a moment before continuing his task of hanging his shirts on hangers.

Travis had been fighting again. The thought popped into Dennis’s head upon seeing him, and he figured he was more annoyed over it than he should be, so he didn’t say anything. None of his business and all that. But if he had believed he had a right to an opinion, he would have been adamant about how stupid he found it that Travis was willing to walk into harm’s way for a woman he didn’t even like. Unless, of course, Travis happened to like getting hurt, in which case Travis would be stupid on behalf of Travis. But it wasn’t any of Dennis’s business, so he refused to have an opinion. Things were kept much simpler that way, just as he’d tried to convince himself they were all day since lately, it had become a little too noticeable that he’d been spending more time with the guy than he would with a simple acquaintance.

“We should go out,” Travis suddenly called, and Dennis nearly missed the rail he was trying to put a hanger on. Go out. He supposed friends went out. They were friends. He wondered if friends would likely cut a night out short just to have sex sooner. As he left the closet he was horrified to realize that he wanted to ask Travis that very question. He didn’t even want to think about what his subconscious desire to have the talk was all about.

“Why?” Dennis demanded. Travis might as well have asked him to tie his balls off to a moving vehicle.

Travis sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and allowed his lip to curl the way it did when he was assessing Dennis’s mood. “Because I want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Dennis blurted. Which, in all fairness, wasn’t exactly true. He’d left work dreading the prospect of spending the rest of the night in. He was in the odd sort of mood that didn’t leave much room for getting bored. But, going out with Travis didn’t strike him as being the same as getting out of the house. Not to say he had a particular objection to being out of the house with Travis. He might have had more of one if Travis decided to go without him.

“Alright,” Travis replied, standing and stretching so long that the bottom of his sweater lifted above the firm skin below his belly-button. “It’s not like we have to. But look,” he said, his tone becoming serious as he met Dennis’s eyes, “I think we need to have a talk.”

The talk?

“I don’t wanna talk,” Dennis stated, and then realizing that could have been perceived in more than one way by Travis, regarded him warily. But, Travis only looked confused. Maybe rightfully so, Dennis thought.

“Okay. I think. Look, I just wanted to tell you that you should probably steer clear of your parents if either one of them come looking for you,” he said, and as if he’d fulfilled some sort of responsibility on the matter, let out a breath and then regarded Dennis with a lopsided grin. “So what’s going on with you?”

Dennis blinked. “What?”

“You’re acting weird. You don’t have some poor guy tied up in your closet, do you?” Travis remarked, leaning his body to look behind Dennis. “‘Cause if so, I think the polite thing to do would be to share.”

“Why would my parents come looking for me?” Dennis demanded, ignoring everything else.

Travis shrugged. “Your mom’s trying to get your dad to give you a job at the dealership. I don’t think they get you wouldn’t want it. That’s all. Thought I should warn you.”

As Dennis tried to process this, Travis’s phone rang, and when he lifted it to look at the number, he all but winced. “What?” Dennis asked, before he could remind himself that he had no place in being curious over it.

Travis shrugged. “Owen again. He’s been trying to call me all week. I’m not in the mood to deal with him.”

Dennis frowned. “You haven’t talked to him yet?”

“What would I say? It’s bad enough having Aiden looking at me like I shot his dog every time I go home. I’d rather just forget the whole thing... but, I guess I could always kiss Aiden,” Travis mused. “That might fix things.”

Dennis looked properly mortified. “Why would you do that?” he asked, and Travis smiled because he imagined that Dennis couldn’t wrap his mind around anyone kissing Aiden Knightly.

“It would make them even,” Travis explained. “Probably piss Owen off enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about him kissing me again.”

Well there was an image Dennis could have gone without. And really, Travis kissing someone else seemed like it should be more his business than Travis’s fighting did. They were friends. Just, Dennis preferred to be the only friend Travis had that he was also kissing. He’d figured that when he saw Owen do it at the club. At the time, Dennis couldn’t bring himself to be very bothered by it. He’d seen it coming just as clearly as he’d seen that Travis didn’t see it at all, and if anything, his concern lay with Owen, who seemed to be in no condition for more heartache.

“Go talk to Owen,” Dennis stated, and Travis raised an eyebrow. “You can’t ignore him.”

Travis sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it later. Promise.”

“Do it now,” Dennis ordered, stopping Travis from getting any nearer to him.

“Now?”

“You’ll find him at the club,” Dennis said firmly, and then as if to dismiss Travis from his presence, turned and headed back to his laundry in the closet.

Behind Dennis, Travis stood shaking his head, not sure what to make of this. “Um... fine, I guess. I’ll come back later. Might take me a while to get there and back.”

If Dennis picked up on the subtle hint that Travis would have liked company, he didn’t show it. “Yeah. See ya later.”

Sighing, Travis looked at Valentine as if she could explain her owner’s attitude to him, but when he received no help from her he headed to the door.

“Travis,” Dennis suddenly called, and he stopped at the door to look back to where Dennis was leaning on the closet doorframe. “Don’t kiss Aiden.”

Travis regarded him curiously, and then shrugged. “Sure. Okay.”

Dennis’s shoulders heaved as he released a breath. “Travis. While you’re not kissing Aiden, don’t kiss anyone else, either.”

“Okay,” Travis agreed, and he was smiling on his way out the door.