Chapter Ten
February 16th
Ian made sure that Gray took the lead into the house, since he couldn't be sure the kid wouldn't make a break for it if Ian went ahead of him. He would be feeling all insecure right about now, Ian figured, even though he'd just been reassured-with-a-capital-R that he was important to him. Gray didn't really like meeting new people, and he must be especially nervous about meeting the only other person Ian considered important.
Ian wasn't nervous at all. In fact, he was finding himself pretty excited by the idea of introducing Dovie to Gray. Her positive spirit would go a long ways toward making Gray feel comfortable as part of their little family. For family he was, in Ian's mind, and his sister was going to love the kid the way she did everyone: without reservation. As for why he hadn't told Dovie about Gray before now . . .
Well, that was a story he'd better get straight if he didn't want to get booted off the couch and sent to sleep in the doghouse. Wasn't hard to explain, if he was honest with himself—just shameful. It was always shameful to look like that much of an idiot.
"Ian, if you didn't want me to meet your sister then I can go . . ." Gray was mumbling, trying not to be heard as Ian propelled him toward the kitchen. He'd had the sense to pick up the newspaper he'd walked out the door for, and the coffee was on an automatic timer and already brewed, bless it.
"I believe I just said I did want you to meet her," was Ian's answer, and then he was pushing Gray into a chair and thunking a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. "Now hush up until they're awake. I love my sister, and she'll love you, but she'll still tear your head from your shoulders if something other than her own willpower gets her out of bed."
"Her husband must fear for his life pretty regularly," Gray said with a smirk, accepting his coffee and drinking it in spite of his discomfort. He could feel unwelcome all day and he'd still drink coffee if it was available, which seemed pretty natural to Ian after the number of sleepless nights the two of them had been through. Ah, caffeine dependence.
"He manages to get on with her," Ian shrugged, and took the sports section with the intention of reading every word.
Gray started his usual routine, separating out each section and stacking them up in front of him. He would skim the entire paper looking for something interesting, and he'd only read what caught his eye. He had a hard time with reading, had to force himself to do it, but that didn't stop him from partaking in the morning ritual as he'd observed from Ian. At first Ian had thought it was weird that Gray would force himself to do something he didn't like, then he was humbled and overwhelmed by the realization that Gray looked to him for cues as to how normal life worked. He tried so hard to find ways to be normal, and he seemed to think having a cup of coffee and looking at the morning news was good for him.
It was calming him down, too, Ian saw. He was nervous and antsy about being here, but doing his typical morning activity was settling him a bit. Ian didn't like it when Gray was nervous, since he was liable to work himself into an even more insecure state and then be down on himself the rest of the day.
Alex shuffled into the kitchen first, his hair barely contained in a ponytail and mostly just poking out in random fluffy spikes. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of drawstring pants, and his eyes were mere slits that were focused right on the coffeepot.
"Morning, Ian," he yawned, walking past the table. He poured his coffee, held it under his nose and smelled it, blew on it and took a quick sip. He turned back around to shuffle out again, and made it halfway to the door before he froze, looking at Gray. "Uh. Who are you?"
"He's with me," Ian said, aware that this was not very descriptive, but probably the most Alex could hope to register until he was more awake.
Alex glared at them both. "Don't move."
Ian serenely went on with his coffee and an article about the Dodgers, but Gray took it pretty much literally. He sat very still and his grip on the edges of the paper became destructively tight. Alex returned after only a moment, now with a shirt on, his eyeglasses in place, and his hair hastily brushed.
"Ian," he said levelly. "I know you're Dovie's brother, and I know you did us a good turn. I don't even mind your surprise visit. But you really oughta told us someone else was going to be coming."
Ian patiently sat through this, trying not to laugh at Alex's serious demeanor.
"I didn't know he was," Ian answered. "He dropped by to talk to me, and I didn't think you'd mind if I invited him in."
"Well, that's okay," came Dovie's voice, and she entered looking just as sleepy as Alex, although slightly more put-together. She slept with her hair in a braid, and it was still pulled neatly back. "But who is he?"
"You know, sis, that's quite a long story."
"Uh-huh," she answered, fixing him with that look, that sisterly look that managed to convey how quickly he'd better get to the point and how successful his attempts to charm her would be. (The answers were, pretty damn fast and not at all, respectively.)
"I guess he's my boyfriend," Ian settled for.
Alex choked on his coffee so hard that some of it landed on the floor, and Gray's jerky movement of shock left him with half a torn newspaper in each fist. Dovie herself just narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
"I take jokes better when I've had coffee. As you can see, I ain't had any yet. Who is he?"
"I just told you," Ian said firmly. But by god, this was weird, wasn't it? He wondered if Gray was glad to know what Ian thought, or just pissed off that Ian was saying it without talking to him first.
Dovie's response was to go the sink and get a rag to mop up the floor, since Alex was too busy trying to breathe. When she stood up and turned around, there was a smile on her face, and she held out her hand to Gray.
"Then it's real nice to meet you, honey. I'm Dovie, but please don't judge me by him. I'm the kind-hearted and tactful one."
Gray didn't take her hand. "You aren't upset?"
"Not yet," she said cheerfully. "Why should I be?"
"Well, Ian's been straight until about thirty seconds ago, for one thing," Gray said, cutting his eyes to Ian and letting him know that he was pissed off. Oops. "And then there's the fact that I used to be the sex slave of this guy who pumped me full of drugs, until Ian came along and ruined his budding career to rescue me. It really isn't that nice to meet me."
Dovie took that all in, her only movement some rapid blinking, trying to decide if he was serious or not.
"Well," she said finally, and she looked at Ian. "The gossip back home said you were spurned by some girl, but I never believed it. I just didn't think it suited your character to cut ties with Daddy over some failed romance."
"I dropped out of school to take care of him, and Daddy's just mad that I wouldn't go back when he said I should. Course," he added in a lazy drawl, eyes on Gray, "now Gray's mad at me for the same reason."
"Right now I'm mad at you for telling your sister I'm your boyfriend without telling me," Gray snapped. "Once I get finished being mad about that, then I'll go back to being mad that you won't go back to school. You're lucky I'm too tired to kick your ass, because I know you haven't been practicing and I have."
Alex was staring at all of them in turn, and finally he just made a scoffing noise and poured himself a new cup of coffee to replace the one he'd spilled. "This is the weirdest dream I've ever had," he mumbled. "When I wake up and tell Dovie about this, she's gonna laugh until her sides are sore."
"You're not having a dream, babe," Dovie told him, a smile beginning to quirk her mouth. "I hate to disappoint you, but my brother really is in our kitchen, introducing his boyfriend. And doing an awfully bad job of it, too. I still didn't get your name, honey."
"It's Gray," he said.
"Like your eyes? That's cute!" Dovie said enthusiastically. "Your parents must have—"
"My parents can go fuck themselves, whoever they are," Gray said. "It's for my eyes, but Ian's the one who named me. I didn't have a real name until then."
So obviously he wanted to get everything out right up front. He was trying to shock Dovie, get her to judge him poorly. Then he'd have an excuse to extricate himself from Ian's life and put an end to the guilt complex he had about being in it. Well, he didn't know Dovie.
"O-oh," Dovie stuttered. "Well, Ian's no fool and he wouldn't be with you if you weren't a great guy," she said firmly. "Now, I can see there's a long and fascinating story just waiting to be told here, but I think it's one that would go down better with some breakfast. You boys hungry?"
In the middle of being surprised that Dovie didn't think he was a fool, Ian managed to smirk at Gray's shocked expression.
"Babe?" Dovie questioned Alex, her voice going softer and obviously asking about more than just food.
"Yeah, sure," Alex sighed. "I'll get the griddle down for you." He did just that, getting up on his tiptoes to reach the cupboard above the refrigerator. That was a dumb place to keep the cooking implements for the shortest woman alive. Ian had not lost his determination to find things wrong with Alex in general, since he couldn't actually be friends with the boy who'd romanced his sister. But his traitorous brain demanded that he acknowledge the kind of guy Alex was, to put up with all this in his house and not say a word.
"Pancakes all right with everybody?" Dovie queried, already digging in the cupboard for ingredients.
"I . . . I don't understand," Gray said softly.
"You don't know what pancakes are?" Dovie gasped, whipping her head around.
"No, I just mean . . . you ought to be pretty angry right now. With Ian, for letting me into your house. And for wasting his time on me and everything. After what I just told you, about myself, you ought to be chasing me out of here. But you're cooking us breakfast, and I just don't understand that."
Dovie contemplated that for a moment. "You're the reason Ian dropped out of school?"
Gray ducked his head like he was awaiting punishment. "Yeah."
Ian was ready for action at the slightest sign that Dovie or Alex did anything to make Gray feel bad, but he didn't think it would happen, so he kept silent and watched it play out.
"So you've been with him for, what, three years?"
"Yes. I'm sorry you didn't know, I—"
"Three years is a long time, and it don't look to me like you're going anywhere," Dovie said. "That makes you family, in my book. I'm awfully interested to hear how y'all met, but you're in my kitchen and you're hungry. I don't allow family to go hungry in my kitchen."
With the firmness of conviction, she made her pancakes from scratch using their mother's old recipe (with Alex's watchful eyes making sure she didn't hurt herself or burn down the kitchen) and set a plate down in front of each of the three men. Alex, equilibrium somewhat restored by the second cup of coffee, retrieved butter and syrup. While Dovie cooked, Ian talked.
"I'm telling the story, because if I let Gray tell it he'll try to make you think he did something wrong."
Gray glared at him. Dovie turned around, spatula in hand, to ask,
"If he wasn't your boyfriend until ten minutes ago, then what was he before?"
Ian could feel himself starting to turn red. "Ah, listen. This is when it's going to start sounding creepy and making me look like a pedophile . . ."
"It doesn't either!" Gray burst out. "As far as I can tell, the first time you ever thought about me that way was half an hour ago on the front porch."
Alex raised an eyebrow at them. "How old are you, Gray?"
"Just turned eighteen," he muttered, then crossed his arms. "Which does not make Ian a pedophile. I've met a lot of pedophiles, so I ought to know."
"So you were, what, fifteen when you met Ian?"
"I just said I was gonna tell the story!" Ian snapped, irritable at having himself upstaged by Alex.
"You might tell them about us meeting, but were you going to tell them where I grew up?"
Ian sighed. "Yeah, I was. It's like Dovie said: you're family. Might as well have it all out in the open."
Gray didn't interrupt again as Ian recounted the tale. He did it in the order he knew it best, beginning with meeting Lars Castle and his silent pet boy, talking about escaping the club and going to the police and having one of Daddy's lawyers come sort it all out. Only then did he move into Gray's past, since that was the point in the story in which Ian had started learning about it. Then he moved forward again with the explanation of their activities over the past few years.
"We're mostly normal, now," he finished with a shrug. "Work a lot of early mornings at the bakery and go to our judo studio a lot. I try to convince him to do normal teenager stuff, you know, play video games and bum cigarettes off people, but he's not much interested in that."
"I don't spend a lot of time around other people my age," Gray said with a bitter smile. "We don't usually get along."
"Well, I can see why," Dovie said. By now, she'd set the cooking dishes to soak in the sink and had joined them at the table with her own plate. Her comment made Gray stiffen up again, right when he'd finally started to relax over not being chased out yet. "Most kids your age haven't been through hardship like that and they would never understand why you value certain things. I'd be impatient with them, too."
Gray was astonished. Because Dovie was assuming that Gray was rejecting their company rather than the other way around, most likely. Or maybe just that she had characterized a lifetime of nonconsensual sex and drug abuse as "hardship." Either way, he had his jaw hanging open.
"You'd better close that before flies get in," Dovie told him in a mild tone.
Gray turned to Ian, still looking confused and, inexplicably, ashamed of himself. Ian couldn't help rising from his seat to put an arm around Gray, like he'd done outside, and even spend a moment with his face nuzzled into Gray's hair. He thought he could get used to that.
"I told you, didn't I? Not everyone in the world is an idiot. Not everyone you meet is gonna treat you like dog crap on the bottom of their shoe. And if I thought my sister was someone who would, I sure as hell wouldn't have come all the way out here a couple of years ago to help her out."
"And why is it, exactly, you couldn't tell me about Gray back then?" Dovie asked primly.
"Um," Gray mumbled. "I followed him out here, and I, um, well . . . Sorry."
"He freaked out a little bit," Ian said, trying to downplay it. He'd been honestly frightened that Gray would actually hurt someone, whether it be Dovie or himself, at that time. "He was worried I wasn't going to come back, and he came out here threatening to get rid of you so I'd come home."
Gray buried his face into Ian's shirt to hide his embarrassment. "I wasn't . . . well, I'm still sorta crazy, I guess, but I was worse then."
Ian would be surprised if they'd understood a word of that, muffled as it was into his chest. "He was still fighting through the drug problem, and he hadn't quite figured out yet that he wasn't my toy. He was pretty insecure back then. Although this is new," he said, patting Gray's back and trying to think when Gray had magically transformed into a barnacle. "Usually when he's insecure he gets into a mood and hollers and hits me."
Gray suddenly shoved away from him. "I still could, you know," he said, those startlingly gray eyes flashing. "I just thought you'd appreciate something different, since I'm supposed to be your boyfriend now."
"Well, hell," Ian sighed. "You were the one who was out there trying to smell me. You're not a kid anymore, if you ever really were, and I don't want you to strike out on your own because I'd miss you too much. I'd try to call it brotherhood, but a few minutes ago I was thinking you're awfully good-looking, so that isn't too apt. If you don't want it to be that way, I sure don't blame you, not after what you've been through. But it might be about time we talked about what it is you do want."
Alex and Dovie, wisely, rose from their seats and slipped out of the room. They weren't entirely clear on how Gray had come to be here this morning, but it seemed that perhaps Ian and Gray weren't entirely clear on that, either.
"Well, I . . . but you're straight. I mean, that trouble at the club started over a girl."
"Who gives a shit?" Ian said roughly, not really sure how to answer this one. "I know I'm straight, but I'm keeping you with me any way I can. If you want me, then you can have me. If you don't, then that's okay, too. Don't bother me either way."
Gray scoffed. "I've been telling you for three years, I don't even know how to want. It just goes to show you how much those people fucked me up that I— that having sex would make more sense to me than whatever it is we do."
"What exactly are you saying, Gray?" Ian asked, trying not to let his impatience show. He'd had a lot of practice with that over the past few years.
"I'm saying we'd better not have a physical relationship, at least for right now. I think we better hold off on that until I feel better about what we already have. Because I honestly don't know if I genuinely want you or if it's just force of habit."
"That sounds pretty wise. And I'm not arguing with you. But I do want to say that it could be a long time before you feel sure of yourself. I mean, maybe you never will figure this out. You've got so much baggage when it comes to this stuff that—"
"I know that," Gray interrupted him, but quietly. "That's why I think I'm ready to try talking to a therapist again."
Ian was so surprised that he swallowed the remainder of his coffee in one painful gulp. "God, Gray. Do you remember the last time we tried that? You're lucky I was in the waiting room, because otherwise you'd have been facing assault charges."
"I remember," Gray answered grimly. "Cut me a break, though, I was fifteen and I was still locking myself into my room at night to try to keep myself from going looking for a fix. I was able to convince myself that if the door was locked, it meant I couldn't leave."
"I didn't know you did that," Ian said compassionately, reaching out to touch him and feeling both surprised and a little hurt that Gray pulled away.
"I still do, sometimes. I would have come to you when it got bad, but you made it pretty clear you weren't comfortable with that."
Ian winced. "I'm sorry. But if I'd known why you needed that, I would have let you stay in my room. You should have said . . ."
"Should have, if I'd been able to reason it out. But I was fifteen, and I was still locking myself into my room at night . . ." he repeated with a bitter smile.
Ian's hand closed over Gray's arm. The marks were no longer there, but the ghosts of them were clearly visible to the both of them. "Listen to me. I don't care if I'm comfortable, uncomfortable, asleep, mortally ill, or anything else. You ever feel like that, you come find me. That ain't something you should be dealing with on your own."
"I've been doing it for a few years already."
"And that's a testament to your strength of character, it really is," Ian said, feeling maybe just a hint of sarcasm creep into his voice. "But I didn't ask how you've dealt with it in the past. I told you how you're gonna deal with it from now on. How am I supposed to be helping you if you don't let me?"
Gray looked down at Ian's hand on his arm, and he closed his eyes as if in pain. "I still don't know why you do this for me," he whispered. "There's nothing I can give you in return."
Ian's hand convulsed, tightening his grip. "I didn't ask you for anything in return. But that's partly what I came out here to figure out, you know."
"Yeah? What'd you come up with?"
"That I don't like picturing where I'd be if you weren't in my life. I'd be a hotshot lawyer by now and I'd be a heavy drinker and I'd have some blonde airhead trophy wife that my father found for me. I'd probably even think I was happy that way. It was when I met you that I figured out what I really want in this life. It's just to look out for the people I love. Making you safe, making you happy—that's how I know who I am. I wouldn't be me without you. I'm not trying to feed you some kinda melodramatic gay soap opera line, here. Seeing you getting better is what makes my life worth it."
Gray was crying. Ian held him with no qualms.
"You don't wanna call us boyfriends, then we won't. I don't have a label for how I feel, anyway."
"Thank you," Gray wept. "I just need time, okay?"
"I know. That's fine. I've got all the time in the world for you, Gray Eyes."
"Ian, I . . ."
"You don't have to say anything back, either. Why don't you just take a minute to put yourself together, here, and I'll go break the news to Dovie that you're not really my boyfriend." Ian forced himself to smirk and ruffle the younger man's hair. He felt like the biggest idiot alive right now, but that was how he always felt after emotional talk. And it had been necessary to do it, so he just had to suck it up and deal with feeling like an idiot.
He found both his sister and her husband in the living room, curled up together in the armchair so as not to invade the bed they'd granted him on the sofa. Feeling absurdly guilty for not having put it away already, Ian quickly started folding blankets, realizing he didn't know how to broach this subject with them. Not twice in one morning. The first time he'd felt sure of himself but this time he just felt stupid. Maybe he just wouldn't say anything. It wasn't like he was required to explain himself, he'd spent three years perfecting the art of not explaining himself.
"You seem a little keyed up," Dovie said observantly, and Ian fought his desire to strangle her for being inane. Well, Alex wouldn't let him do that, anyway. "I take it he doesn't want to be your boyfriend?"
"Not right now," Ian ground out, after a moment of trying to figure out how to say it. It had been such an easy conversation when it was with Gray. Conversation was always easy with Gray, and that was the appeal—being understood so perfectly and understanding them back was an incredible feeling. After three years, in fact, conversation spoken aloud was mostly optional. "He's just . . ."
"Young, damaged, and vulnerable?" Alex suggested, sounding almost perky. Dovie tried to shush him by putting her hand over his mouth, but he fought free to say, "Be careful, man."
"Careful," he repeated in a tone that was meant to let Alex know he was pushing the boundaries.
"Yep," Dovie confirmed. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."
"Me?" Ian yelped. "What's with all this defending him? I'm your brother!"
"Exactly. I know where you sleep," she said ominously. Then she uncurled herself from the human knot that she and her husband had made themselves into so she could walk right past Ian. He looked and found Gray, slightly stunned, in the doorway. Dovie had gone past him so she could pull Gray into a hug. "He's an awful grouch, you know. Almost a monster. But you don't have to take it from him, hear? You just let me know when he needs a good hiding."
It would have been sweet and touching, if not for the way Gray spasmed in her embrace and backpedaled to get away from her. Then he went a furious red and looked like he was about to lash out. Ian leaped forward and clamped his hand over Gray's mouth.
"No," he said. "We're working on this, the two of us. No more blowing up when we're embarrassed."
"Sorry," Gray answered, his breath hot against Ian's hand. He pulled away, deflated. He looked at Dovie. "Sorry. I just . . . I don't . . . Judo's okay because we're trying to hurt each other, but most of the time— And it's okay when it's Ian, but I . . ."
Dovie nodded in serene understanding. "You don't like to be touched. I get it." Ian was flooded with gratefulness once again that his sister, against all odds, was such a sweetheart. Well, until she reached out and touched Gray again, placing her hand over his arm. He stood completely still and stiff. "But that's something we gotta work on. I just couldn't stand it if I couldn't hug a member of my own family whenever I wanted to."
Gray looked like he was on the verge of tears again, or possibly on the verge of punching her in the head and running away. Instead, he forced himself to put his own hand over hers. "I'll try," he offered, giving her a weak smile.
"Well, all right, then," she said, far more cheerfully than him. Well, Dovie was practically cheerful as a profession, so she was far more cheerful than everyone. "You must have been travelling all night, to get here so early this morning. Would you like to rest a little while?"
Gray was about to be stubborn, but Ian wasn't going to let him.
"Sounds like a great idea to me," he declared. "You go on, Gray, I'll find you after I finish the paper and get a shower."
He clearly still wanted to argue, but Ian was already pulling the bed back out and tossing a pillow in his face. Alex and Ian adjourned to the kitchen again while Dovie was quizzing Gray relentlessly to see if he needed anything and if he was comfortable. They started to clean up breakfast in silence, and both laughed when they heard Dovie declare that just because he hadn't eaten much this morning did not mean he could get away with wasting away in her house. Ian shot Alex a proprietary glare for laughing.
"He doesn't seem like a bad kid," Alex offered, handing him the plates he'd scraped clean.
"He's not a kid at all."
"You know what I mean," Alex said sourly. "Work with me, here."
Ian just scowled.
"Aw, you're just feeling insecure," Alex tried for a joke. "You still intimidate me, even if you are gay."
"Is that an invitation to smash your face in?"
"Fine," Alex sighed. "If you enjoy being uncomfortable so much . . . I gotta get ready for class, anyway. Dee!" he called out. "Leave that poor kid alone and let him sleep! You're gonna be late for work!"
"Oh, no! Why didn't anyone tell me what time it was?" Dovie wailed, charging into the kitchen and stopping in surprise at how clean it was. "Oh. Thanks, boys."
"You're welcome. Now go get ready!" Alex scolded her. She ran for their room, and Ian shook his head as he popped the last of the dishes into the washer.
"Some things never change."
"Ah, she's better than she used to be."
A few minutes later, the couple were grabbing purses and keys and last-minute items to get out the door. Ian was seated at the table with the newspaper again, finding it easier to read than to think right now.
"Hey," he said when they were about to step out the door. "Thanks, you two. For . . ."
"I love you, brother," was Dovie's response, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you later."
Alex gave him a doubtful look. "Don't destroy the house or anything, okay?"
"Haven't yet, have I?" Ian grunted.
"Yeah, but I get the feeling that if you two get in a fight, there'll be property damage."
"We'll take it outside," Ian said with a sharp grin. Man, it would feel good to have a little match later, he and Gray hadn't faced each other in weeks.
"They'll be fine," Dovie declared. "Now let's go, we're late!"
They made it out the door in a flurry of conversation, dangling coat sleeves, and rattling car keys. When the door slammed and the car started up, Ian let out a deep sigh.
"Finally!" Gray called sleepily from the other room. "Your sister's great and all, Ian, but she's really loud!"
Ian chuckled and abandoned his paper to wander into the living room. Gray had pulled a pillow over his head but he removed it when he heard Ian come in. It made his hair especially wild.
"It is pretty hard to sleep when she's talking," Ian agreed. Then he yawned. "Haven't been sleeping much either way," he admitted.
Gray just smiled a little and laid his head back down to sleep. After a moment's indecision, Ian flopped down next to him. They both sighed deeply, and then fell asleep side by side.
"Hey, Karen!"
"Hi, Averil!"
"Dovie, come here," Sasha hissed, dragging the other girl forward. "Averil's here, I think he's going to ask her."
Averil was sitting down beside Karen on the wall as Dovie eagerly joined Sasha to listen in.
"How are you today?"
"I feel good. There's not much fog today, and my breathing is much better."
"Mine, too. I'm sorry, Karen, I can't stay long today, because I have to go to my new job."
"That's okay. Mother is picking me up right away. I have another recital next week, and she wants me to practice as much as possible."
"Do you like playing the piano, Karen?" Sasha and Dovie were not exactly hiding, but not exactly making their presence known, either. They both crept forward a little more and held their breath with anticipation.
"Yes."
"Really like it?" Averil pressed her. "Or do you like doing it because it makes your mother happy?"
"I don't think it makes her happy," Karen said thoughtfully. "Mother never seems very happy. She always frowns, like this." The little girl illustrated by using her hands to pull the skin of her face tight and strained, and she scowled at Averil. The teen couldn't help but laugh, but then he sighed and put his hand in her hair.
"I worry that you're working too hard, that's all," he said. "Your mother ought to be proud of how hard you try to do well."
"That's right," Dovie whispered with conviction.
"She is," Karen said insistently. "She's proud, and she smiles a lot at my recitals when people say how good I am."
"She isn't very nice to you, though, is she?" Karen drummed her heels against the wall and shrugged. "She's strict, but she has to do that. I have to eat certain things and be careful of my health, you know. Some people think it doesn't really help, but Mother thinks it does, and I want her to be happy. And I have to practice a lot so I can do well on the piano."
"She doesn't ever hug you or say nice things to you," Averil said, just as insistent as Karen. "Does she even say your name?"
Karen shrugged again, and turned her eyes down. She was so entirely forlorn that Dovie took a step forward and had to be restrained by Sasha.
"Well, if she won't, I will," Averil declared, pulling Karen to his side and putting his arm around her. Karen leaned her head on him and relaxed, instantly seeming happier. She'd reacted nervously to such gestures at first, but she'd warmed up to Averil quite a bit.
All too soon, he let her go and stood up. "I don't want your mom to see me, and I have to go to work anyway. Bye, Karen."
"Averil? Do you like Miss Yvonne?"
"Uh, I guess."
"She came over to the school one day and brought us a treat and told us what her shop was like. She was nice to us, but I think she's strange."
"She's very strange," Averil laughed. "But I don't mind, I needed a job and she gave me one."
"What do you need a job for?"
"To make money, of course."
Karen frowned. "I don't understand money."
"I'll tell you about that another time, or Miss Dovie could explain it to you. I gotta go, Karen. See you."
"Bye, Averil."
Karen's mother came around the corner just as soon as Averil had walked through the wrought-iron door of the antique shop, so Dovie had no opportunity to go to Karen and try to press her for more information. They watched the girl get in the car, then headed back inside to help Oscar with the last of the kids.
"She can't actually get in trouble for being mean, can she?" Dovie fretted.
"I'm afraid not," Sasha replied. "I hate the way she treats Karen, but she's actually very responsible about her welfare. Karen's being fed and clothed and her talents are being nurtured . . . If she's not actually hurting her or neglecting her physically, then there's really nothing we can do."
"I guess we just have to let Averil try, then," Dovie sighed, close to tears.
"Hey, don't worry so much," Sasha said, giving her a quick hug. "Averil seems like a nice kid, I think he'll be able to help."
"I just wish I knew what he's doing here," Dovie said, her worries forgotten as her indignation over being left out of the gossip took over. "I've chatted with Mr. Williams a few times, and he never mentioned having another kid move in. He's such a gossip! He ought to have said something about it!"
"Maybe Averil's got a bad history," Sasha said. "Mr. Williams doesn't seem like the type of man who'd spread around things that would embarrass anyone."
"Maybe," Dovie sighed. "But Averil's so polite and responsible. It seems hard to believe he's done anything embarrassing, doesn't it?"
Sasha just patted her shoulder. "You'll have to save thinking of it for another time, your husband will be here any minute, and you've got to get home and make dinner."
"I do?"
"Didn't you say that your friends Claire and Matt were coming over tonight?" Dovie's face drained of colour, and Sasha became concerned. She almost called Oscar over.
"I forgot that was tonight," Dovie gasped out. "I don't have anything ready."
"You'd better run, then," Sasha urged.
"You don't understand. I have, well, there's an unusual houseguest."
"You mean Ian's still there? Wow, isn't he ever going home?"
"No, I mean another one. Ian's, um, his friend. His very special friend."
"You can say boyfriend, I won't have a heart attack or anything. This is San Francisco," Sasha added dryly.
Dovie made a face and smacked her on the arm. Most people did not do that to their boss, but Sasha had practically adopted Dovie a few years ago and they were too close to think of themselves in employment terms.
"Well, it's a long story, but the long and short of it is that they're not dating, at least not right now. Remember I told you that Ian dropped out of school a few years ago?"
Sasha nodded agreeably.
"Turns out it was because he met this homeless teenager and decided to take him in. He's been taking care of him. And now Gray's an adult, but it doesn't look like he's planning to move away to college, if you see what I mean."
"And he's at your house?"
"He got worried when Ian didn't come home. I guess they had some kind of fight. I think they're working things out. Which is great and all, but . . ." Dovie's eyes were wide and frightened. "I can't introduce them to Claire."
"You could cancel dinner. Or kick them out for the night."
"I am Southern, Sasha. I was born to be a perfect hostess on every occasion. I can't cancel or kick them out. I have no choice. Oh, god, those poor boys. Claire isn't going to be able to help herself."
"Oh, there's Alex," Sasha said, waving at him. "Good luck," she added with a grin as Dovie ran into Alex's arms wailing about the disastrous night ahead of them.
"What are you smiling about?" her husband asked, coming up beside her.
"We have a really normal, boring sort of life, don't we?" she asked.
"Uh . . . Sorry?"
Sasha leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment and smiled up at him. "I was just thinking how nice it was that we do. I don't think I could handle an exciting life."
Oscar chuckled and gave her a little tug. "Come on. Wait until you see what Thomas did to Naveen's shoes."
Gray slept most of the day. He had hardly slept since Ian took off, and it was true that he'd travelled all night to get here. The pull-out sofa bed wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, and his naturally nervous disposition wasn't being helped by the unfamiliarity of the place and people . . . but Ian stretched out right beside him, breathing deep and rhythmic, was incredibly soothing. He woke up once to use the bathroom and to snag a piece of fruit out of a basket on the kitchen counter, then he went straight back to sleep.
He had an ability to sleep for stretches that made Ian worry he'd never wake up, but apparently that was the one thing he did that marked him as a normal teenager. Well, that and his lack of control over his temper. But he was getting better about that, at least he thought so. But since he'd never been a normal child, it only made sense that he couldn't be a normal youth, either.
It wasn't even the sex and drugs that had done it, at least Gray didn't think so. It was just how hard he had to work to do anything. He put twice as much effort into the simplest things as anyone else. Having to be so focused and so responsible just to get a driver's license or to learn basic math had made it impossible for him to act like a flaky teenager. He'd recognized that being able to recite Shakespeare's sonnets or quote Byron at length wasn't going to get him anything in life except maybe another situation like he'd had with Lars Castle. He had to make himself useful, and he'd worn himself out with trying.
So he was older than his age made him out to be, he decided. He came to that conclusion while staring at the ceiling with his hands laced together under his head. Ian had gotten up from his nap and gone off somewhere, but Gray thought he was still in the house somewhere. If Gray wanted to be an adult, then he needed to act more like he was one.
So no more of this insecurity bullshit. He knew exactly how important he was to Ian, so he was going to stop thinking that Ian might leave him. And he needed to remember that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself now, anyway. No more being a burden on him. Gray was going to try harder, to put in a full half of the effort in their household. He was going to find a better job, and . . .
"Who am I kidding?" he whispered. "No one would hire me, anyway." He didn't raise his hand to wipe at his wet eyes, because while he was on the topic of being more adult, adults didn't start crying just because life seemed hopeless. Or maybe they did, but Gray wasn't going to.
"You awake?" That drawling voice, when Ian really allowed his roots to show, was Gray's favourite thing to hear.
"Yeah."
"You're thinking about a job?"
Damn, he'd heard.
"Can't stay at Brian's bakery forever," Gray said flippantly, sitting up. "Even if it is all I'm good for."
Ian's hand caught him in the process of standing up. "You know I hate it when you talk like that."
"Even if it's true?" Gray asked bitterly. He was well aware that he had no marketable skills.
"You are intelligent, Gray, even if you don't think you are. And you know how to work your ass off to get what you want. You can find a job you like. Or . . ."
"Or what?"
"Gray, you could go to college."
He snarled and yanked himself away from Ian's clinging grip. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious."
"You remember what studying for my GED was like?"
"I remember. It sucked. But it got easier toward the end, didn't it?"
"I guess. I thought it was because I'd finally learned something."
"That, and studying gets easier the more you're in practice."
"It does?"
Ian was smiling. "You think I'm just so fucking brilliant that I could breeze right through law school without trying? There's a reason I dropped out. I literally could not help you and do school at the same time, just because it takes up so much time. It's supposed to be hard like that. It's hard for everybody, Gray, not just you."
"I really don't think I can get into Yale, Ian."
"I wasn't talking about Yale. I was talking about enrolling for a semester of community college and seeing how it goes."
Gray was dumbfounded, but he didn't argue. If Ian thought he could handle community college, then he probably could. Ian might push him hard, but his expectations had never been unrealistic.
"I'll think about it," he finally responded. "But what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You can't work at the bakery forever, either."
Ian shrugged. "Yale ain't taking me back, you know. Not after so long."
"But you could finish your degree somewhere else."
"I don't think I really want to be a lawyer, Gray. I was only doing it because I was supposed to be a carbon copy of my father. It's not what I'm really interested in."
"So what are you interested in?"
"I don't know yet. I know I like being able to look after my loved ones, but that's as far as I've gotten."
"You could become a teacher," Gray shrugged.
Ian barked out a disbelieving laugh. "A teacher, Gray Eyes? Me?"
Gray hunched his shoulders, feeling stupid now, even if he was right. "You were a really good teacher for me," he defended himself.
"That's because I care about you. I don't think I could do it for a bunch of snot-nosed out-of-control brats."
"Maybe you could do something with . . . With other kids who were like me. You know, kids who need extra help. They might need someone who will be hard on them and make them work. You know, someone who's going to believe in them."
Ian looked stunned. "Never thought of that. Huh."
"You're an intimidating guy," Gray said, grinning now. "You could scare anybody into success."
Ian actually seemed to be thinking about it, which was pretty amazing considering that Gray had only just now thought of this idea and it had flown out of his mouth before he could stop it. But it turned out that Ian was thinking of something else.
"Why does this matter so much to you?"
Aaaaand . . . he'd been caught. Well, he should have expected it. Ian was nothing if not a sharp guy. But he found himself looking away and trying to close down his face to show no expression. He'd been good at that, once upon a time. Unfortunately, Ian knew him too well.
"Gray?" Sharp in many ways. He winced when he heard that razor-edged voice.
"Look. Brian might not blame you that he got black-listed, but that's because he likes having a bakery. Some of the other guys who were friends with you resent it a lot. You were supposed to be their leader, and when you went down, you took them with you. And now they think you're . . ."
"What, Gray? They think I'm what?"
"They think you're a joke!" he burst out. "You bounce around from one job to another and you're not going anywhere in life, at least not the way they think. And you spend all your time looking after me and your little sister, and they think that you're just a pathetic nobody now!"
"I am nobody," Ian drawled.
And sometimes, Gray hated that drawl.
"You're not!" he shouted, and then all his resolve to act like an adult, and all the promises he'd made to work on his temper, disappeared. He launched himself forward and started making every effort to wrestle Ian to the ground and choke him to death. "It's your own fault they've turned on you! It wasn't my fault!"
"When did I say it was?" Ian shouted right back, blocking Gray's kick with his arm and trying to catch hold of him to throw Gray over his shoulder.
"You were such a selfish bastard before! You had all those people hanging all over you, and you didn't care that you were messing with their lives! And you didn't save me just because I needed you! I'm not stupid, even if I am brain-damaged! You only took me because you wanted to piss off Al Bolton! I know that's the real reason!"
Ian suddenly faltered, and he went down under Gray, who straddled him and held him pinned on the ground, his eyes flashing with passion. "I wanted to help you, Gray Eyes," he said, his voice sounding impossibly hurt—and knowing he'd hurt Ian's feelings made Gray think for a moment Ian had gotten an arm free and sucker-punched him.
"I believe you," he said more quietly. "At least, I believe you made up your mind in that hotel, that first night. But you took me because you were spoiled and not thinking about the consequences. I know who you are now, and you're not the same guy that you used to be. But me and Brian, we're the only ones who know that. Everyone else thinks you're a joke, Ian. And you're not. You're not, and I hate it. I hate people thinking less of you because you changed."
"It's not your fault," Ian said.
"It doesn't matter!" he said bitterly, knowing that it was half his fault and half Dovie's, and knowing that the fact Ian didn't blame them was the greatest sign of his transformation. "Just . . . I won't let anyone think of you like that. If you won't prove them wrong, I'm going to have to beat it out of them."
"I believe you could," Ian chuckled. Gray hadn't realized how much he'd relaxed his hold on Ian, because suddenly the bigger man bucked his body and sent Gray tumbling off him. He didn't retaliate and pin him down or anything. He stood up.
"If you promise to think about school, I'll promise to think about your ludicrous image of me as a teacher."
So. That was it. Gray had gotten it off his chest, and Ian had heard him, and that was as far as it was going right now. He didn't believe that Gray would really think about school, so he was basically saying he had no plans to become a teacher. Well, fine. It wasn't the first time they'd butted heads like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Time to move on.
"All right," Gray agreed lazily, getting up. "I'd better take a shower before your sister and her husband get home, by the way. I'm gross."
"You are, a little," Ian agreed. "I'm gonna put the bed away. Did you bring anything with you?"
"Uh, not exactly . . ."
"Idiot," he said affectionately. "I have a bag of clothes and stuff in the bathroom. Go ahead."
Gray did so. Ian was a lot bigger than him, so he retained his own jeans but he did borrow a clean t-shirt and boxers. He had never been very good at thinking of things like maybe he should pack a bag if he was leaving town. He'd never had anything of his own until recently, and it had only been since living with Ian that he'd had to do anything for himself at all. Being someone's pet was awful in innumerable ways, but he had been rather pampered.
"So, what, you miss that life?" he scolded himself. No. He didn't, not at all, and even if he was crazy enough to miss things about the lifestyle he'd never want it back if he couldn't have Ian. The way things were now was hard, certainly, but they were better that way. Give it another couple of years, and he might even know who he was and what he wanted out of life.
A/N: So, my roommate is fostering five cats who are waiting for adoption. Meaning I am also fostering five cats. Well, kittens, really, they're only six months old, and they're all white with black spots and adorable as hell. We already knew the name of one of them, it's Bear. And roommate named the lazy one Fat Louie. I named the others, and I have decided that I am the god of naming things, because my names are the best. The girl is Minerva McGonagall, a.k.a. Mac. The one who has a really skinny face and facial markings that look like he's crying black tears is Harlequin, a.k.a. Harley. The one with the weirdest spots is Rorschach, a.k.a. Rory. There, see? Fucking awesome names.
Oh, yeah. Thanks for the reviews, guys. You really make my day, when I'm not busy cuddling my new kitties.