Carter's Shadow - 32. Chapter 32

They were still standing too close together, Peter stealing kisses to hide the fact that he was blushing like a madman. He couldn't believe he was there, but every time he closed his eyes West would kiss him again to remind him it was real.

West ran his tongue lightly over Peter's teeth, wriggling it between them eager to explore, as Peter relaxed and opened his mouth, letting him in. He stared into the warm grey eyes staring into his own, eyes filled with mirth and humour.

"What?" Peter pulled back, his hands still wrapped up in West's shirt, clutching it, his cheeks reddening shyly.

"Nothing," West smiled, "just I didn't expect this." He glanced over at the door, "My parents are probably wondering what's going on in here."

Peter looked over at the door, "You think they're listening in?"

West chuckled, "I wouldn't doubt it, they have this morbid fascination with my love life."

"L...love life..." Peter again stammered.

"As in relationships," West said looking down, taking a moment to straighten Peter's ball cap. "You know, that thing where two boys who really love each other try to make babies...."

"What-?" Peter's eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"You need to lighten up, I was kidding," West said, grinning.

"Bastard," Peter grimaced. "Ok...wow..."

"What?" West asked, arching an eyebrow and draping his arms over Peter's shoulders.

"It's just... I was sitting there tonight, just watching the hockey and thinking about you..."

"Hmmm, so men in body armour beating the crap out of each other on ice skates reminds you of me? That's romantic." West grinned.

"Shut up," Peter grumbled, adjusting so more of him was touching West; he wasn't sure why, but he needed that closeness, that total intimacy...

"You're poking me," West grinned again.

"Huh?" Peter blinked, "I'm not..."

West glanced down.

"Oh!" Peter turned bright red again.

West took a long breath and tilted his head to one side looking down into Peter's soulful eyes. "You were saying?" he prompted.

Peter shook his head to clear it. "I..." he coughed, "well, I was trying to eat supper and I got it into my head that I had to... I...this...err..."

"You wanted to kiss me," West surmised.

"Yeah," Peter admitted. "So I grabbed the Jeep and... so... here... and... yeah."

"Yeah," West smiled, "so I see. You're still dripping on the carpet."

Peter shrugged, "Deal with it."

West laughed. "Right. So now that you've...." West leaned in to kiss Peter again, "kissed..." Peter kissed him back, "me, what now?"

"I don't know," Peter replied in full honesty. "I didn't plan much beyond..." he kissed West again. "This is really addictive," he mused aloud.

"Yeah," West grinned, playfully kissing Peter's nose, "but... just remember my parents probably have their ears pressed up against the door right now trying to work out what..." they kissed again, "...we're doing in here."

"Right," Peter glanced again at the door and back up into West's eyes. "What are we supposed to do now?" he whispered.

West grinned.

"Parents," Peter squeaked, catching the flash in those eyes.

West nodded, "And my ribs hurt like hell."

Peter jumped to the opposite side, staring at West's tender rib cage, "I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologizing," West smiled, "I..."

There was a knock at the door, followed by West's father scolding his wife, "Leave them alone, Martha."

"I'm just checking to see if they want some snacks..." West's mother said, sounding guiltily like she had been trying to check up on them.

"If they want snacks they will come out for them," West's father insisted, his voice muffled by the door. "Come away from that door."

West still had his hand resting on Peter's shoulder as they looked at each other and laughed.

"We should go out," Peter remarked.

"We 'should'," West admitted, tugging on Peter's arm, drawing him closer.

"But..." Peter smiled, allowing himself to be pulled in, "but..."

"Hey, you started this," West pointed out, using his hand to tilt Peter's head to one side and expose his neck, running his lips lightly over the soft, silken skin as he grazed up the soft curve to find Peter's earlobe.

"Yeah," Peter murmured losing himself in the sensation of West's gentle lips, and faint stubble tickling his skin. He hitched a breath, quivering as his hands balled and his head tilted back, exposing more of his neck.

West moved along to the jaw line and traced it softly as he moved for Peter's lips. Peter turned his head and met West, kissing again fully. He was drifting on a cloud and wondering why he'd ever fought against it.

"I still hate you, you know." Peter opened his eyes.

West laughed, "Yep. Still gonna kiss you, ya know."

"Yep," Peter sighed blissfully.

* * *

"Nobody knows," Tony sang off key, "the troubles I've seen!"

"Shut up," Joey said sitting on the cot, his legs tucked up against his chest as he rested back against the bars.

Tony ignored him, "Nobody knows....but Jesus!"

"If you don't shut up, I'm gonna kick your ass!" Joey threatened.

"Hey," Tony sat upright, "I'm not the one that went psycho, assaulted a guy, got us stopped by police whilst carrying enough drugs to supply a pharmacy for a month then got us arrested and tossed into prison, am I?"

"No," Joey admitted.

"Now sit back, shut up and I'm gonna sing." Tony folded his arms, gritted his teeth and tried to remember the rest of the song. Failing that he sprawled back on the cot, his hands behind his head staring up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. "You know you're a cunt, right?"

"Shut up," Joey murmured.

"Here I am, out for an evening walk through the market with my best friend; next thing I know, I'm banged up on a bullshit drugs charge--which I might add, I wasn't a part of--destined to become some-guy-named-Bubba's new bitch..." He looked over at Joey, "This is all your fault."

"Look, just shut up and let me think!" Joey cursed.

"It's a bit late for the whole thinking part," Tony observed. "Usually that comes before you do something stupid to get yourself arrested."

"Shut up, will you!" Joey balled up his fists as he stood up.

"No your honour, we were out just minding our business--you know, totally illicit recreational narcotics and all--when my partner here gets it into his bright little head that it's a good idea to beat the crap out of some guy... well, not beat up so much as have his assed kicked by said guy..."

"I said shut up!" Joey took a step forward.

"Hey, it's okay for you," Tony remarked, "you'll probably get a slap on the wrist, at worst a couple of months in juvie; me, I can just see it now." He spread his hands out in front of him, "Former Canadian junior silver medallist, jailed." He shook his head, "Did I mention I'm too pretty to do hard time?"

Joey rolled his eyes and sat back down on his cot, "Look, I'm sorry."

"Oh you will be," Tony said nodding. "Though," he glanced about him, "this does kinda remind me of some really bad porn; right about now the guard should come in and demand we service him."

"Shut up," Joey grabbed his pillow and tossed it at Tony.

Tony caught the pillow and stuck it behind his head. "So," he turned to face Joey, "this is another fine mess you gotten me into." He pitched his voice falsetto high, and screwed up his nose.

"Huh?" Joey stared at him in confusion.

"Laurel and Hardy, I have to take it in my film studies course in Uni. Which by the way I should be writing a report on. I wonder if 'hey prof I got arrested,' will get me an extension?"

"Look, when they come to question me, I'll tell them the truth--you didn't know what was going on, and you were trying to stop me from attacking Brad," Joey nodded.

"I hope so," Tony remarked, "'cause it's the truth; I'm serious, I'm too pretty to go to jail... you, you should be fine, you have a face like the back end of a horse..."

Joey glared at his friend.

"Just saying," Tony held up his hands. "What about your folks..."

"Yeah," Joey's shoulders sank, "they're gonna kill me."

Tony shifted, "I'm sorry, dude..."

"For what?" Joey asked looking up from where he was staring at the floor. "For trying to stop me from making a mistake, getting arrested in the process? Dude, it's me who should be apologizing to you."

"Really, ya think?" Tony asked grinning and propping up his head with his hand. "Well between you getting me arrested and your brother dumping me, I think I've had my fill of the Harding boys this week."

"I'm sorry," Joey shrugged, "I didn't know West was gonna do that. I thought he liked you."

"Meh," Tony shrugged, "your bro's pretty cool, and he just isn't ready for anything serious just yet. I can understand that; hey, I had a fun time."

"Well," Joey said thoughtfully, "he does have this friend, Blake, from school."

"Yeah? Is he hot?" Tony asked with a sly smile.

"I don't know..." Joey shrugged.

"Oh come on," Tony rolled his eyes, "don't lie, you'd have sex with a guy if it meant getting your rocks off."

"No!" Joey screwed up his nose, "that's sick, dude."

Tony laughed, "Hey, you're the one going to jail, you might as well get used to the idea of hard-core guy-on-guy action..."

"Stop!" Joey protested.

"Soap on a rope," Tony winked. "And for the love of god, clench."

"Shut up!"

"I dunno, a lonely Biker, in need of a little company, taking a shine to his little cell mate. It's quiet, still... guards have made their rounds... he slips from his bunk, wraps a hand around you..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Joey said standing up. "I was trying to be nice."

"I'm just messing with you," Tony laughed. "I'm not the dumb ass that got us into this mess. So tell me about this guy. Is he hot?"

"I don't know," Joey shrugged lamely. "Yeah, maybe; he's thin, has black hair, likes art and shit."

"'Cause we all know if they're thin and like art, they just 'have' to be gay," Tony rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," Joey snapped. "He is gay; he went on a date with West, it didn't work out or something. But he's single, I think. West seems to get on with him."

"I wonder if he'd go for an ex-con like me," Tony grinned again. "You know, we've been to the big house now... we're gonna get mad props for this one."

"Fuck off," Joey snapped. "You're enjoying this shit far too much."

"You're damn right I am," Tony nodded. "Best Friday night of my life--I always wanted to see jail from the inside."

* * *

West stared at his dad; Peter was hiding behind him, especially shy, all things considered.

"He's what?" West shook his head. "Arrested?"

"I don't know," old man Harding commented, throwing on his coat and stamping into his boots. "The police wouldn't say on the phone, they just want me to come down to the station."

"I'm going as well," his mother insisted, coming into the kitchen and pulling on her own coat. "Wesley, can you watch Sammy for me?"

West nodded, "Sure, no problem. I'll get her to bed on time."

"Should I go?" Peter motioned to the door.

"No, no," West's mother shook her head, "stay; someone has to keep an eye on him. " She nodded to West, "He's not supposed to be up and about, and Sammy can be quite a handful."

West nudged Peter. "Stay," he smiled.

"None of that!" his mother warned, catching the exchange of grins between the two boys.

West's father finished pulling on his boots and stood holding the door open, "Come on, Martha, we don't have all day." He shook his head, murmuring, "One in the hospital, the other in jail... what a week."

As they left, West turned to Peter. "Well, I hope you like Disney," he said, folding his arms painfully.

"Why?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"'Cause you're about to be subjected to unending hours of it," West said, nodding to where Sammy was standing, all pig-tails and innocence holding up her Lion King video.

* * *

"Isn't there like laws against cruelty to prisoners?" Peter was curled up in the crook of West's arm, his be-capped head resting against West's chest as the video was rewound for the third time.

"Oh yeah," West nodded. "However, death by cutesy singing cartoons isn't covered by the Geneva Convention."

"You think if I wrote to them and complained?" Peter looked up, his blue eyes catching the light, and causing West to shift his hand to rest on a patch of Peter's exposed tummy, where his tee shirt had ridden up.

"I don't know, might work," West replied, "though I think it might be preferable to what my brother's gonna get once my dad bails him out of jail."

"Yeah," Peter shook his head in amazement, "that's going to be tough."

"Hey," Sammy said, bouncing around in her small furry kid's chair, "are you two gonna get married?"

"Watch the movie, you," West pointed to the screen.

Sammy set a defiant look on her face as she stuck her tongue out at her big brother, and focused her attention on Peter, "Do you two kiss?"

"That's none of your business," West replied, again pointing to the screen.

"Which one of you is the girlfriend?" Sammy asked curiously.

Peter choked on his juice.

West gaped.

"Well, my friend at school says that there's always a boy one and a girl one ... and so I want to know which one..." Sammy faltered a bit, uncertainly.

"She wants to be a bridesmaid," West explained shaking his head. "She's trying to find a way to ask you if she can be yours..."

"Hey, wait a second," Peter said sitting upright. "Says who I'm the girl one?"

West laughed, and Sammy continued to look expectantly at Peter.

"I'm not a girl," Peter glared at West, "I'm not putting on a dress."

"You don't have to, I'll wear it, I have one upstairs..." Sammy shot off.

Peter stared after her in shock, "What?"

West shook his head, "She has her princess costume from last Halloween, she likes to pretend it's a wedding dress." He traced his finger up Peter's arm, and leaned in to steal a kiss from him. "Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," Peter replied returning the kiss. "I'm still not putting the dress on."

West laughed, "I know. Still, can't fault a guy for dreaming."

Peter blushed again. "Shut up." He looked away, smiling.

"I can just picture the wedding now," West said shaking his head. "Do you, Peter McCormick, take this man in sickness and in health...yadda, yadda, yadda?" He switched his tone to mimic Peter's squeak, "I hate him..."

Peter pushed West, "Asshole."

"See..." West grinned, "not even married and I am getting abuse."