Adam's POV
I could hear the vacuum over the sound on the living room stereo as I stood at the sink in the kitchen washing dishes. We'd invited the Bombays over for supper, so we had to have the house spic and span. Charlie being the odd ball of energy he is can't clean without music, so he insisted on putting in a CD while he cleaned the carpets. The one he'd chosen was a Paula Cole CD he'd burrowed from Julie to tape the Dawson's Creek theme song and never returned. Despite the fact I hate that disk, I actually found myself singing along and my singing voice leaves something to be desired.
"Where is my John Wayne? Where is my prairie sun? Where in my Lonely Ranger? Where have all the cowboy's gone?" My voice rang out as I continued to scrub a pot we'd accidentally left in the fridge for two weeks. It wasn't pretty when I took the lid off I promise you.
The next thing I know there's arms around my waist and I'm being spun around the kitchen with an SOS pad in one hand and a pan in the other. Dizzily I slid to the floor and looked up at Charlie's grinning face.
"You, I don't like."
"Okay, give me my ring back." He smiled sitting down next to me.
"Nope, mine." I shoved my hand in my pocket with a laugh. "Shouldn't you be cleaning?"
"I don't see why, Bombay's seen my room at it's worst."
"But it's not just your room, it's our room, in our apartment. Get the picture?"
He nodded.
"Sure, I'll get back to it as soon as you tell me I'm your cowboy."
"What?"
"I heard you singing, face of an angel voice of a banshee attractive combo."
"Jerk." I blushed, I didn't think he heard my improvised concert. "Go clean."
"Kiss me."
"No, go clean."
"Kiss me."
"No, go clean."
We batted back and forth like that for ten minutes before I gave up, kissed his cheek and pushed down the hall back to the parlor where the vacuum sat discarded but still running. He's too much sometimes. A little while later it was time to get dressed and Charles was happy because I agreed to let him wear his own clothes. You'd think I had worst style in the world with the deal he makes about borrowing my stuff. It's like pulling teeth to get him into khakis.
The Bombays arrived right on time and I'm positive that was all because of the new Mrs. Bombay. Gordon is perpetually late normally, but we've all learned to deal with it. Instead of the traditional bottle of whine a dinner guest brings they brought us some sparkling grape juice declaring.
"You may me grown up to get married, but in the eyes of the law you still can't drink."
I've always wondered about that law you know. We were 19, college freshmen, old enough to move out, get married, have children, even die in war but not have a beer. I hope I'm not the only person that's ever been puzzled by that.
Anyway, I digress. The four of us were sitting at the new kitchen table we had bought (thanks to Portman and Fulton's seedy escapades), enjoying a meal Charlie had told the older couple we'd both prepared (he added the dressing to that salad, apparently in his mind that counts as helping), when Bombay told us something unsettling.
"I ran into an old friend of mine that works at city hall these days at the pharmacy today." He began.
"Yeah?" Charlie looked at him wondering what point our old coach could possibly have.
"It seems your father's trying to pull some strings at the Mayor's office Adam, he's trying to get your marriage license denied."
My stomach knotted, of course he was, that was the type of man my father is. He got his way no matter what, he didn't care who he had to hurt or use to get it. Being the powerful man he was, I wasn't surprised to hear that at all.
"Can he do that?" Coach's wife asked, obviously he hadn't shared the news with her yet. She seemed just as shocked as Charlie was and I should've been.
"Not legally, but give the right amount of cash to the right crooked official and you can do just about anything." Gordon replied.
After dinner they didn't stick around very long, I guess I wasn't a very good host. Following what I'd been told they I was as polite as possible, in spite of my raging emotion. My fiancé' walked them out as I got a hot shower trying to ease myself. My entire body ached with frustration. Why'd my dad have to be that way? Couldn't he just except I was happy with Charlie?
By the time I got out of the bathroom Charlie was already asleep on the bed with his clothes still on. He'd tried to wait up for me, but I'd been in there for three hours, I think I used a weeks worth of hot water. I climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers, laying on my side and staring at the dresser just to have something to focus my mind on. Soon there was a strong arm draped over me, a firm chest pressed against my back and soft breath on my neck.
"I love you." I whispered not thinking he was awake enough to hear.
"Love you too." A sleepy murmur responded followed by a kiss on my bar shoulder.
How could my father even thinking of getting us apart? How could any father want to hurt their sons that badly? There were few things in my life that kept me living, hockey, work, college and Charlie. As you can see I always save the best for last.
I could hear the vacuum over the sound on the living room stereo as I stood at the sink in the kitchen washing dishes. We'd invited the Bombays over for supper, so we had to have the house spic and span. Charlie being the odd ball of energy he is can't clean without music, so he insisted on putting in a CD while he cleaned the carpets. The one he'd chosen was a Paula Cole CD he'd burrowed from Julie to tape the Dawson's Creek theme song and never returned. Despite the fact I hate that disk, I actually found myself singing along and my singing voice leaves something to be desired.
"Where is my John Wayne? Where is my prairie sun? Where in my Lonely Ranger? Where have all the cowboy's gone?" My voice rang out as I continued to scrub a pot we'd accidentally left in the fridge for two weeks. It wasn't pretty when I took the lid off I promise you.
The next thing I know there's arms around my waist and I'm being spun around the kitchen with an SOS pad in one hand and a pan in the other. Dizzily I slid to the floor and looked up at Charlie's grinning face.
"You, I don't like."
"Okay, give me my ring back." He smiled sitting down next to me.
"Nope, mine." I shoved my hand in my pocket with a laugh. "Shouldn't you be cleaning?"
"I don't see why, Bombay's seen my room at it's worst."
"But it's not just your room, it's our room, in our apartment. Get the picture?"
He nodded.
"Sure, I'll get back to it as soon as you tell me I'm your cowboy."
"What?"
"I heard you singing, face of an angel voice of a banshee attractive combo."
"Jerk." I blushed, I didn't think he heard my improvised concert. "Go clean."
"Kiss me."
"No, go clean."
"Kiss me."
"No, go clean."
We batted back and forth like that for ten minutes before I gave up, kissed his cheek and pushed down the hall back to the parlor where the vacuum sat discarded but still running. He's too much sometimes. A little while later it was time to get dressed and Charles was happy because I agreed to let him wear his own clothes. You'd think I had worst style in the world with the deal he makes about borrowing my stuff. It's like pulling teeth to get him into khakis.
The Bombays arrived right on time and I'm positive that was all because of the new Mrs. Bombay. Gordon is perpetually late normally, but we've all learned to deal with it. Instead of the traditional bottle of whine a dinner guest brings they brought us some sparkling grape juice declaring.
"You may me grown up to get married, but in the eyes of the law you still can't drink."
I've always wondered about that law you know. We were 19, college freshmen, old enough to move out, get married, have children, even die in war but not have a beer. I hope I'm not the only person that's ever been puzzled by that.
Anyway, I digress. The four of us were sitting at the new kitchen table we had bought (thanks to Portman and Fulton's seedy escapades), enjoying a meal Charlie had told the older couple we'd both prepared (he added the dressing to that salad, apparently in his mind that counts as helping), when Bombay told us something unsettling.
"I ran into an old friend of mine that works at city hall these days at the pharmacy today." He began.
"Yeah?" Charlie looked at him wondering what point our old coach could possibly have.
"It seems your father's trying to pull some strings at the Mayor's office Adam, he's trying to get your marriage license denied."
My stomach knotted, of course he was, that was the type of man my father is. He got his way no matter what, he didn't care who he had to hurt or use to get it. Being the powerful man he was, I wasn't surprised to hear that at all.
"Can he do that?" Coach's wife asked, obviously he hadn't shared the news with her yet. She seemed just as shocked as Charlie was and I should've been.
"Not legally, but give the right amount of cash to the right crooked official and you can do just about anything." Gordon replied.
After dinner they didn't stick around very long, I guess I wasn't a very good host. Following what I'd been told they I was as polite as possible, in spite of my raging emotion. My fiancé' walked them out as I got a hot shower trying to ease myself. My entire body ached with frustration. Why'd my dad have to be that way? Couldn't he just except I was happy with Charlie?
By the time I got out of the bathroom Charlie was already asleep on the bed with his clothes still on. He'd tried to wait up for me, but I'd been in there for three hours, I think I used a weeks worth of hot water. I climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers, laying on my side and staring at the dresser just to have something to focus my mind on. Soon there was a strong arm draped over me, a firm chest pressed against my back and soft breath on my neck.
"I love you." I whispered not thinking he was awake enough to hear.
"Love you too." A sleepy murmur responded followed by a kiss on my bar shoulder.
How could my father even thinking of getting us apart? How could any father want to hurt their sons that badly? There were few things in my life that kept me living, hockey, work, college and Charlie. As you can see I always save the best for last.