A Jewel in the Dirt - 15. A first and a last Kiss

The warm water stung on the burned areas, so much that Dante almost bit his lower lip bloody; the emergency shower, right after Mikey had accidentally dumped the acrid cleanser down his neck, had brought tears to his eyes. He turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, then stepped out of the shower, wincing when Frank opened the door briskly. Cold air swirled around his feet.

"Oh", Frank made in surprise, but then stepped inside and closed the door. "Does it hurt a lot? It doesn't look that bad, but Seth yelled terribly at Mikey."

It had been an unfortunate mishap, nothing more, so Dante put on a wry smile. "I'll be fine, no big deal." He began to dry off slowly and Frank asked quietly:

"Do you want me to help you put cream on it?"

"No, there shouldn't be any on there for now."

"Okay..." After a moment's hesitation, Frank reached for the toothbrush.

As soft as the towel was, it still hurt on the maltreated skin, and Dante seriously considered for a moment forgoing his pajama top, but the bedding would do its part anyway. The back of his neck, part of his right shoulder, and the back where the cleaning product had run down tingled uncomfortably and felt hot as he carefully brushed his fingertips over it. With a poorly suppressed sigh, he reached for his pajama pants and was pulling them up when he paused- over the mirror he saw Frank watching him; toothpaste foam dripped from his chin. "What is it?"

A blush shot up Frank's face, but he half-turned to Dante before saying: "You're pretty."

Dumbfounded, Dante blinked at him. "That's... I mean, thank you, but... isn't that more of a word for women?" And noticing his privates still hanging out of his pants, he quickly tucked them away.

Frank shrugged. "I thought it was appropriate."

"Okay... um... thanks..." Embarrassed silence fell and Dante searched for a topic of conversation, for he didn't want to go to sleep in such a tense mood.

"Is Lucia really that bad?" he finally wanted to know after getting comfortable in bed, and Frank made a face.

"She's like Britney. But different."

Dante raised a brow, and Frank made a strange grimace.

"In summer, she tried to kiss me."

A low chuckle escaped Dante, because Frank's face so full of indignation was simply heavenly. "And that would have been so bad?"

"Yes."

"Because you don't like Lucia, or because kissing is... gross?" He emphasized the word a little and Frank started to reply, but then paused.

"What's so funny about it?"

Dante swallowed his grin with difficulty. "Kissing can be a very nice thing. And I've been told it can lead to even more nice things."

He could watch the realization take hold of Frank, but then he shook his head. "But not with Lucia!"

"Your call." Dante shrugged. Probably the step from theoretical interest in such things to practicality was still too big for Frank, but it was a start.

"Do you like kissing?" Frank then asked curiously and Dante nodded cautiously. The whole thing was a tightrope walk, it went through his mind, and a slightly uneasy feeling rose in him as Frank looked at him thoughtfully. 'You're pretty.'

"May I..." - Frank's whispered shy words snapped Dante out of his thoughts on how to get around the issue- "may I try it?"

Dante blinked at him, a little lost.

"May I... kiss you?"

Now Dante was in a right mess. What was he supposed to say? What did he have to say? No- because his mistress didn't know? Yes- because he was only a slave and Frank was a free man? He had the dull feeling any decision would turn out to be wrong in retrospect. In addition, he had a guilty conscience, because on the one hand he didn't want to betray Frank's trust, but on the other hand he actually didn't feel much like kissing him. The innocent anticipation sparkling in Frank's eyes wrested a decision from Dante.
"Okay..." He propped himself up on one elbow and decided that, yes, Mistress Alice didn't really need to know about this; after all, she took his dalliance with Tom with a shrug.

Frank, meanwhile, slowly leaned forward and then his lips met Dante's- an innocent, a chaste kiss. Disillusionment spread across Frank's face. "That was wrong, wasn't it?"

Astonished, Dante raised a brow. "What makes you think that?"

"It felt... like nothing."

Dante indicated a shrug. "Not every kiss is the kiss of your life."

"How was your first kiss?"

"Not overly pleasant. And not wanted."

That seemed to sober Frank even further, and Dante sighed.

"Look, Frank, certain experiences shouldn't be-"

"Will you show me how to do it right? Please?"

Dante shut his mouth and suppressed another sigh; he was finding it outright difficult to say no. Slowly, he lifted his hand to Frank's scratchy cheek- he hadn't shaved in the last few days- and stroked his lower lip with his thumb before leaning forward.

Frank returned the kiss, in fact seemed to know instinctively how to do it when Dante moved his lips minimally. It was a shy kiss and intense in a strange way which couldn't compare one bit to one of Tom's kisses. And most of all- there seemed to be no end to it. It wasn't until the tip of Dante's tongue brushed against Frank's upper lip that he pulled back and blinked at Dante, completely overwhelmed.

Dante himself felt nothing, but he smiled. "Better?"

"Yeah..." Frank murmured, touching his lips as if he couldn't believe it. And then he mirrored Dante's gesture, caressing Dante's lips, his cheek, and finally pulling him in as much as he leaned in himself.

The second kiss was no longer shy, but exploratory, yet eerily careful, as if Dante were fragile. It was a very nice kiss and he noticed, embarrassed, the blood rushing to his midsection- he gently broke the kiss and cleared his throat meaningfully.

A confused second later, Frank blushed hard and moved away a bit. "I... I understand what you meant earlier." The hand that had been hot against Dante's cheek a moment ago disappeared under the covers. "I... um..." he cleared his throat, "thank you."

Nodding, Dante licked his lips and stifled even a 'good night' as Frank turned off the light. And somehow he doubted Frank's mind had changed regarding kissing Lucia.

~

The morning began as if Dante had simply imagined what had happened, but actually he was quite glad of it; considered in the light of day, it made him kind of uncomfortable.

"What do they say about fog in the big city?" Frank suddenly asked into the comfortable silence, and Dante lifted his eyes from the last few bites on his plate.

"It's just fog. Or perhaps spooky things. Why?"

"It's foggy outside. And I was dreaming about fog."

"Prophetic dreams?" Dante teased and Frank grinned.

"Now that would be something..."

"Morning, boys." Blaise appeared in the doorway and nodded at them. "Dante, can you inform Dennis I won't be back until this afternoon? I'm taking Ma and Ethan to Townsend, but have a few things to do there."

"Yeah, sure." Dante nodded and almost immediately Blaise was gone.

Frank sighed, his good mood blown away. "Kind of fitting... Ethan disappearing into the fog."

"Stop clowning..."

Frank raised his hands apologetically. "Go ahead, let Dennis know before he disappears outside. I'll manage to put the plates away."

Dante nodded and left the kitchen. Fog was nothing but fog to him, but Frank's words left a strange aftertaste; here in the country, the world was a little different.

Down in the basement, there was already a certain amount of noise and the three work slaves he encountered in the hallway nodded at him in greeting.

"Is Dennis around?" he wanted to know and the same promptly poked his head through the kitchen door.

"Here, what's up?" He was still chewing.

"Blaise sent word that he won't be back until afternoon."

Dennis nodded. "Okay. If you can still catch him upstairs, tell him Adam needs a doctor urgently."

"How urgent?" Dante cautiously wanted to know and Dennis glanced over his shoulder.

"I don't want to spoil anyone's appetite. But it's pretty damn urgent."

"O-okay..." Dante nodded, wondering why, even in this case, no one dared to leave the basement for the ground floor, but he said nothing, instead he turned around.

"Good morning." Tom greeted at the same moment and he put on a smile.

"Morning."

"Not a good morning?"

"Frank's talk about the fog has spoiled my mood a bit." Dante preferred to leave everything else out of it and shrugged.

Tom smiled broadly and pulled Dante close before kissing him. How was it that even such a simple kiss in the early morning seemed demanding? Or was it just pure imagination? "At least it's a better morning now, hmm?" As if Tom's kisses were all Dante needed to be happy. He withheld an eye roll and patted Tom's chest instead.

"Better get to work, you lazy ass."

Tom grinned. "Aye, aye, sir!" He stalked off and Dante swallowed a sigh. Somehow there seemed to be no moderate middle ground with Tom.

~

The day passed uneventfully, except for Mikey's contrite expression, because he was infinitely sorry that he had hurt Dante with his mishap.

Or at least it was that way until Adam was picked up by an ambulance just before dinner. Miss Carolyn announced that he needed to be thoroughly examined, but was otherwise silent on the subject. Furthermore, Dante tried to ignore the fact that Ethan's place at the table remained empty, which he succeeded in doing frighteningly well, so that a guilty conscience soon arose, especially since Daniel in particular was rather depressed. The mood shifted to unpleasant and after the table was cleared, Dante went to the basement to inquire about Adam's condition.

"Hasn't been feeling well for days," Dennis said, seeming at first irritated, then touched, by Dante's concerned interest. "I mean, Adam would only have a few years left before he was released to the retirement house, so old age ailments are normal, but... well." Dennis twitched his eyebrows, then cut things short by saying bluntly: "Colon cancer, I guess, and not just since yesterday. That much blood doesn't come from a snap of the fingers."

Dante shuddered. "He's going to die, isn't he?"

"We all die sooner or later, kid."

"Yeah, but-"

"I know what you mean." Dennis pursed his lips into what was probably meant to be a smile, but was more like a snarl. "Adam will die for sure, yes, but with a little gratitude from Mistress Carolyn, he will take his last breath here at the farm. Drugged up, but peaceful and at home."

Dante shuddered again. He had never had any acquaintance with death, and to talk about it in such businesslike terms was strange.

Reassuring and encouraging at the same time, Dennis patted him on the shoulder. "If he's lucky, it'll be quick."

That didn't make it any better, but Dante nodded anyway. "Do you know where Tom went?" For the moment, he felt like in need for a comforting hug.

"Whew. Blaise wanted to discuss something with him, but he's already gone back upstairs, I saw." Dennis shrugged. "Check his quarters."

"Okay, thanks."

The tiny room Tom shared with Sawyer, Freddie and Jim was empty except for Freddie lolling on his bed, reading a comic. "Tom went to take a shower. Blaise didn't give him time to do that earlier, must have been important," Freddie answered Dante's question dozily and he nodded before turning away. Maybe Tom could use a little distraction or encouragement as well.

At the door to the communal shower, however, Dante then paused, the words of greeting dying on his tongue.

Tom's backside was covered from the neck down to the back of his knees with whip scars, some fresh and bright, others pale and only prominent from the warm water- it wasn't surprising. In addition, however, were red marks on both sides of his hip and right shoulder, and something on his neck with the suspicious appearance of a hickey.

Dante was still wondering in surprise when Tom turned around. "Oh...hey..." At Dante's expressionless face, however, his smile immediately slipped away. "What is it?"

"You obviously had fun."

"Blaise had fun." Tom retorted, flicking against his cage.

"Probably not for the first time."

"No."

"And when you were planning to tell me about it?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm not necessarily happy about it, but there's nothing I can do either. And it doesn't change anything between you and me, anyway."

"But your lack of honesty does change something." Dante turned away abruptly. Earlier in the morning, he had considered telling Tom about Frank's kiss, but then let it go- now he was sure it had been a good decision.

"Oh, come on, Dante," Tom called after him, following with splashing wet feet. "Being called Blaise's favorite has to come from somewhere."

"Maybe, but you, my friend, were the one who put a relationship on the line. I don't know what you think what that means, but-"

"If you think Blaise is going to stop fucking me because of that, then you're misguided."

"Not at all. But I would have liked to have known from the beginning." Dante cast a somber glance over his shoulder as he walked across the basement to get to the stairs.

Tom hurried after him- naked, dripping wet- but didn't seem nearly as contrite as Dante would have thought appropriate. "It wouldn't have made any difference."

"That's not the point, Tom, it's honesty."

Tom sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. Blaise takes out the second half of his bisexual energies on me, even taking the cage off me now and then."

Dante reached the stairs and put his foot on the bottom step when Tom added "Better?" thus breaking the camel's back. "No. Too late."

"Oh, Dante, don't be silly!"

"Silly? You're calling me silly?" Angrily, Dante paused and half-turned. "I'm sorry, but I'm no longer wasting my precious free time with someone like you. You're a slave and therefore not one notch better than me, Thomas, no matter what you imagine. Play your power games with someone else." Watching Tom turn pale was not the least bit satisfying, even if Dante had imagined it otherwise.

"Dante, wait!"

"We're done, Tom."

"Dante!"

Dante waved affectedly and continued up the stairs, letting a calm mask slide over his face. Briefly, he wondered what was going on inside Tom, but gruffly pushed the thought aside. There were more important things waiting for him.

~

"Is everything all right?", Frank wanted to know cautiously.

Dante spat toothpaste foam into the sink and moved a bit to the side. "I'm perfectly fine." His voice was a few degrees too cold for this answer and Frank paused.

"Because of me?" he asked sheepishly, and Dante frowned in confusion, before I understood.

"I had a fight with Tom." A nice euphemism for what could well be called a breakup.

Frank sighed. "You're not going to be friends at all, are you?"

"No, probably not." Dante ignored Frank's wistful expression and rinsed his mouth while Frank began brushing his teeth. He changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed. The annoyance at Tom shifted, with some delay, into real anger, and he wondered why on earth he had gotten into this in the first place. Had the tiny bit of freedom Mistress Alice allowed him gone to his head that much? Probably.

"Was it bad?" Frank asked quietly, and Dante winced. "The fight."

Dante snorted and waved it off. "Not important..."

"If you say so..."

Dante buried his face in the pillow, listening with half an ear to Frank's noises, and relaxed a little as the light went out.

A little while later, Frank sighed. "Would you like one of my stuffies? It helps, you know. I mean, they don't hug you back, so if you'd rather have a real hug, then..." He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just an idea. Doc Willers once said hugs were better than unnecessary medicine." Frank's concern was kind of sweet, but a little too much for Dante for the moment.

"Thanks," he said gently, trying not to let his general annoyance get the best of him, "but I'm just in a... bad mood right now."

"Hmm." The bed shook and Dante winced again as Frank's hand touched him on the back. Seconds later, a big warm body nestled against him and a heavy arm was wrapped around him. A feeling of confinement and intrusiveness took hold of him, causing a burning sensation in his stomach which almost built to something like panic as Frank rubbed his nose against the back of Dante's head. "You smell good," he muttered.

Dante took a deep breath and gently pushed Frank's arm away- he let his hand rest lightly on Dante's waist and the panic ebbed almost as quickly as it had come, but left him feeling uneasy. Frank didn't seem to notice, but slipped quickly over into the dream worlds and Dante tried to move away unnoticed, but was unsuccessful.

Frank's arm slid forward and he sighed comfortably into Dante's neck, whereupon the latter was shaken by a shudder. Frank sighed again, moved a little- and then the oppressive tightness also subsided. Although the heavy arm was still wrapped around him, Dante now felt rather secure. A little surprised at this strange, unfamiliar feeling, he now consciously tried to relax, and see, it worked. Warm sleepiness seeped into his limbs and with the thought that the anger and frustration could wait until tomorrow, he fell asleep.

~

"So, Dante... how unbearable is your stomachache really?"

Dante half straightened up and was surprised to see Mistress Alice standing in the doorway with a critical look on her face, a steaming cup in one hand, a packet of stomach drops in the other- the kind of particularly bitter and nasty ones that made fake stomach pains tend to disappear all by themselves. Quickly he sat up properly. "I'll take the drops." His stomachache was real.

Mistress Alice now actually entered his little room, placed both on his nightstand, and then sat down next to him on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I have a stomachache," he said emphatically. Actually, Mistress Alice had not been expected back until dinner, but lunch, from which Dante had excused himself, could just be finished.

"Did something hit you in the stomach?" she wanted to know, propping her elbows on her knees. "Adam? Or maybe Tom?"

"Tom should..." He swallowed the rest of the remark out of politeness.

"Frank said it must have been a bad fight," she said with some prompting in her voice, and Dante scowled at her.

"We 'broke up,'" he said, drawing quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

"The first breakup is always bad." she said with a gentle mockery, patting his knee.

"No need to mock me!" he hissed at her and she raised a brow.

"I warned you, Dante... but please, feel free to wallow in your homemade heartache." She stood up and made to leave the room.

"I don't have a heartache! I have a stomachache, it happens."

She paused, then turned with a sigh. "All right. Now apologize for being disrespectful, and you'll get what I brought you."

"You brought me something, Mistress?" Puzzled, he looked at her and her brow twitched upward again. "I mean, please forgive my disrespect, Mistress, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees in front of the bed and looked at her pleadingly.

"Oh Great Mother, what did I do to deserve you?" she murmured in agony and walked away.

Dante, caught off guard by the conversation, surprised and confused at the same time, did not move until she came back and held out a book to him. Avenging Angels, was the title. "What is an angel?" he wanted to know, accepting the book. "Um, thank you, mistress, I'll treasure the gift," he added stammering and cringed- not so much as to ask forgiveness as from a stomach cramp.

"Angels are beings appearing in other religions, used as messengers and protectors for humans by their deities. Your divine namesake, Dante, would probably pass for an angel in other religions."

"I see, thank you." He looked at the book cover, which showed the blurry figures of a woman and five men facing a castle on a hill. And then his eyes fell on the author's name: Alice A. Mitchell. Dumbfounded, he looked up. "You wrote it?"

A strange embarrassment settled on her face and she nodded. "My latest book, I'm writing the sequel right now."

"Wow..." Now Blaise's comment about Mistress Alice writing actually made sense. He stroked the letters on the cover in awe.

"If you want me to sell you after your restriction expires, at least you'll have something to remember your trip to farm life. Except for a few new scars."

"Thank you, mistress." It felt like that little word was too insufficient, but her strange, almost absent expression kept him from saying or even asking more.

For a brief moment she seemed out of place, downright lost, and for an equally brief moment he felt the desire to take her protectively in his arms.