Carter's Vanguard - 12. Chapter 12

Will awoke when Andrew stuck a mug of coffee under his nose. He cracked open a single eye and looked at the warm brown liquid that smelled amazing, and he closed his eyes again, a happy smile spreading across his face. The smile froze as a look of puzzlement replaced it, and Will opened his eyes again at the sun-drenched living room, the television going with the highlights...

"Oh god!" he said, sitting upright and pulling the blanket closer about him.

Brody and Jared were in the kitchen discussing the barbeque that evening, Brody jotting down a list on the back of an envelope with a pencil. Will glanced back at Andrew, a look of shock on his face, "We weren't supposed to fall asleep..."

Andrew coughed as he tried to hide a laugh, "Uh, you were the one who fell asleep. Typical guy; you get done and then there's no waking you."

Will snatched the coffee from Andrew's hand giving him a dirty look. "This is all your fault," he commented, hiding his own shy smile.

"Actually, I think last night was your fault, you started it." Andrew grinned still sitting on his haunches and looking at Will wrapped up in his blanket.

"Shurrup." Will blushed again feeling about for his underwear as he handed the half-finished coffee back to Andrew to hold for a second. "I need to take a shower," he said, getting up and bolting for the stairs wearing the ugly underwear. He made a silent vow never to wear them again.

Once he was clean and refreshed, dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks, he was beginning to feel more human. He rolled up his sleeves as he walked around his bed to the window overlooking the back yard. Brody and Jared were poking at the rusted-out remnants of the barbeque. It had been a casualty of Ottawa's harsh winter and from the looks of it would put a serious crimp in the barbeque plans that evening.

Andrew entered the room behind him, and Will turned with a fond smile, putting the final roll in his white sleeve. "I see the grill didn't survive."

Andrew shrugged, "We're going to take a trip to Canadian Tire in a few minutes, buy a new one." He leafed through Will's wardrobe and selected a shirt that Will had been given as a gift by a nearsighted cousin who seemed to think he was a couple of sizes larger than he was. "Mind if I borrow this? I need to change, I feel..."

"Go ahead," Will said. "You can have it if you want, it never looked good on me."

Andrew slung the shirt over his shoulder and turned back to Will, his eyes sweeping appreciatively over Will's typically smart appearance. He reached back into the closet and pulled out a black waistcoat, tossing it over to Will.

Will caught it and slipped it on; Andrew was fast becoming one of those gay men with a sense of fashion. It always started that way: first came clothes, then the interior decorating tips and before you knew it they would both be in pink hot pants talking with lisps and sipping peach schnapps. Will shuddered.

"What?" Andrew asked, catching Will's shiver.

"Make me a promise?" Will asked. "Never wear hot pants."

Andrew digested that one, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "Uh...okay, I promise." He shook his head as he crossed the hall to the bathroom and the waiting shower as Will made his way downstairs.

He poked his head out of the patio doors and stepped out onto the wooden veranda that backed onto the house, resting his arms on the rail and watching his two friends desperately try to resurrect a gas barbecue that had long since given up the ghost.

"Andrew suggested we go to Canadian Tire," Will said, squinting up at the sun as it beat down on them. It was going to be a stifling hot day at this rate.

Brody leaned on the fence that separated the small back yard from the parking lot behind the house. "Makes sense," he said, pausing to nod to a pretty woman getting into her car. He was always on the game; like any great player, the game was never over.

Jared dropped the rusted lid of the dead barbeque and scrubbed a hand through his hair before tucking it back under his Condor's cap. "Yeah, she's dead," he pronounced like a doctor announcing the time of death. As if on cue some dead pine needles from the large evergreen in the center of the garden drifted down across the carcass.

Andrew emerged from the house a few minutes later looking refreshed, his sandy-brown hair combed away from his eyes even though it threatened to fall back into its usual place at the first opportunity. "So what's the plan?" he asked, resting a hand on Will's shoulder.

"Canadian Tire," Jared said in agreement. "We can pick up a new grill."

"We can't all fit into Brody's truck," Andrew pointed out.

"We can take my car," Jared stated, "follow Brody and give him a hand loading and unloading."

"Sounds like a plan," Brody said decisively, leading the troop of friends back into the house.

Will stopped long enough to grab his sunglasses before joining them, and hopped in with Brody, figuring it was preferable to being wedged into the back of a Toyota Tercel. Plus it gave him a chance to stretch his legs out a bit; after sleeping on the floor all night he was cramped.

Canadian Tire stores were carbon copies of each other across Canada. It was a one-stop shopping experience where you could indulge all of your DIY urges in one place. It had everything from screws through to washbasins; enough hardware to make Tim Taylor grunt with sheer pride. It was definitely a place of testosterone, men, and power tools, and Will rolled his eyes as he picked his way through the aisles behind the other guys, stopping once or twice when something interesting caught his eye.

Will was not, as most people assumed, well-versed in the whole do-it-yourself culture. He had tried to assemble one of those IKEA shelving units once by himself. It was only when the thing had collapsed on top of him the moment he put a single book on the shelf that he knew he was never destined to work in interior decorating. At least Andrew knew what an Allen key was, which was fortunate otherwise they would have to spend a small fortune in contractors.

There were entire sections of the great warehouse superstore that he had no idea what they were for. Rows of plugs sockets and fittings that made no logical sense to his mind, and they were opposite equally outlandish devices that served only to confuse him further.

"It's a heating element," Andrew said with a smile, relieving him of the strange metal object he had picked up curiously. "You know, for a stove?"

Will looked at it again, but again it just looked like a piece of metal to him. "Right," he said, sounding wholly unconvinced.

Andrew shook his head; putting a hand on Will's shoulder he guided him towards where the others were looking at the wide assortment of gas grills. Jared had managed to corner one of the sales associates and was asking him deliberate questions, no doubt trying to find the best deal. Typical Jared, he always seemed to be out for the best deal he could find; like his father, a natural salesman.

Will was sitting down over by the patio furniture not really paying attention to the negotiations; he was focused out of the sliding doors at the garden center. Gardening had never really held an interest for him; it was just too much work to maintain a garden in Canada's inclement weather, though he was thinking a couple of climbing vines might look nice wrapped around the porch.

Little Bobby McCormick breezed past him, running to the doors and pressing his face up against them making a face as he turned around. His mischievous grin was suddenly replaced with a look of guilt as he recognized his English teacher sitting at the patio table staring back at him.

Will blinked a moment standing up, looking about him and spotting Peter McCormick walking faithfully alongside a rather harried looking woman who was unmistakably his mother, something about the eyes giving it away. She was short, wearing worn jeans and an old tee shirt, pushing a cart, calling for Bobby not to run off.

Little Peter started when Mister Carter stepped around the patio display, staring in their direction. He touched his mother's arm, whispered something to her and nodded towards his teacher.

Mrs. McCormick angled her shopping cart as she pushed up to the thin man who looked entirely too young to be the teacher Peter couldn't stop talking about.

"It's Mister Carter, isn't it?" she asked cautiously.

Will nodded. "William Carter, Mrs. McCormick," he said, formally shaking her pre-offered hand.

"I've heard a lot about you," she sniffed, "but I expected you to be older."

"I get that quite a bit," Will admitted, glancing back over his shoulder. Jared was haggling over a scratch on the floor model, no doubt trying to buy it to save a few bucks. Andrew was watching Will, but keeping his distance.

"Well," Mrs. McCormick said awkwardly, "I just wanted to thank you; Peter's been really excited about your classes, in fact he won't stop talking about your lessons."

Peter shyly blushed and stepped back around his mother; hiding behind her much the way a small boy would do when shyness took over.

"Peter's a good student," Will replied, leaning a little to smile at Peter. "He's got a firm grasp over what I'm teaching..."

She seemed hesitant, looking down at Peter and then gently pushing him towards the doors where his brother was trying to activate the automatic doors by waving his hand. "Go keep your brother out of trouble, I want to talk to Mister Carter a moment."

Peter mutely waved goodbye to Will and darted off, his ears still red from Will's praise. Will watched him leave for a moment before he turned back to Mrs. McCormick, "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering," Mrs. McCormick was a little agitated now, "if you knew anything about the bullying?"

Will frowned. "Bullying?" he asked.

"I'm a little worried," she admitted, staring up at Will with intense eyes. "Peter is such a quiet boy, and ... well... you know boys like that are always...well, picked on."

Will nodded, understanding her concern; he took a tight breath and sighed, "I haven't caught anything, but then I can't be everywhere at once. Has he said anything to you about bullying?"

"He hasn't," she said, sounding frustrated, "but Bobby said the other night that some of the other boys were picking on Peter, calling him names."

Will looked over at Peter, quietly standing watching his boisterous brother get into mischief; such a quiet little boy, entirely too pretty and lacking the rough and tumble attitude that would protect his brother from the typical bully's attention. Delicate and quiet, two fatal flaws for kids in Junior High.

It struck Will at that point, the curve of Peter's hand when he gestured, the shyness and the demeanor. He turned back and he saw that he wasn't the only one who had noticed what Will had just seen. Mrs. McCormick had a pleading look of worry on her face and Will felt compelled to say something, anything to make her feel better.

What could he say to ease that worry? How could he, a gay man himself, ease the worry of a parent that was just realizing her son was gay. They say mothers were always the first to know, an instinctual thing they could sense in their offspring. Will had been spared that burden, his mother long since abandoning him to his father's dictatorial grasp. He looked back at Peter, and the more he looked the more he recognized a reflection of himself at twelve. Had his father recognized it, only to dismiss it in typical paternal denial?

"I can keep a closer eye on him if you want," Will said, hoping it was enough that she knew at least someone at the school would keep an eye on her boy.

She clasped his hand, an intimate gesture, one of a common bond that had just been forged. He was the only other person to see what she saw and in a way that reassured her to know she wasn't alone with it anymore, but at the same time... "Thank you," she said sincerely.

Will nodded as she finally let him go, putting her weight into pushing the cart after her two boys, giving Will one last look of thanks as she left.

"You okay?" Andrew asked, coming up beside Will.

Will nodded, "I think so, just a couple of my students and their mother..." He wasn't sure why he didn't just tell Andrew exactly what they had discussed, but it was something he just had to work out in his own head before he could discuss the half-formed thoughts with someone else.

Andrew gave him a look of concern and clapped a hand around his shoulder, pulling him back to join the rest of them clustered around the newly-purchased barbeque.