Portman's POV:
He stirred a few times, made a funny little snuffle sound, and as his eyes slowly opened and came to rest on my own, I knew this was for real.
"You didn't really think I'd let you get away that easy, did you?"
He blinked at me, then sat up on the mattress, rubbing his eyes. I had to shift over to make room for him, and accidentally brushed his bare arm, the one with the needle mark still visible from last night. He jerked away from me like I'd burned him, looked down at the leftovers from his little party lying scattered about on the floor, then over at the door that led to the rest of basement. He was going to bolt; I could feel it. He started to stand up, but I pushed him back onto the bed, a little more forcefully than I'd intended.
"Don't you dare run out on me again, man. We've got some things to talk about."
He looked at me sideways, like he was waiting for something awful to happen. "Like what?"
I snorted. "I swear, Fult, how can you someone as smart as you be so fucking dumb? How about me kissing you, and you bailing on me, or maybe this taste for heroin I never knew you had? Either of those would be a good place to start, don't you think?" I sat down heavily on the little wooden stool. I hadn't mentioned what I'd said last night, how I'd dropped the l- word out of the blue. Whether that was because I was afraid of scaring him off, or because I was still afraid, even after all that Johnny had said, that he didn't feel the same, I wasn't sure. Both, I guess. Since when did Fulton become so scary? He was Stick Man, the only guy I'd ever met who was crazy like I was crazy, but... he looked so different to me, now. And I liked it. A lot. How could I not have seen this before?
He sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I owe you that. I got freaked, dude, what do you expect? You're like, the straightest guy I know, and suddenly you're kissing me, and saying... all sorts of shit, and all I know is you're drunk, and you just finished getting it on with some ex, some female ex, at that. I know you're not gay, but are you even bi?"
How did this get turned around onto me? Damnit, this always happened with Fulton. The guy didn't open his mouth much, but when he did, look out. He could turn a conversation in any way he wanted it to go, and he used words and logic like weapons; trying to argue with him was like trying to scale the Great Wall of China using a fork as a pickaxe. But the thing was, he almost always had a point, just like he did here.
I /was/ pretty drunk last night; what exactly happened after I went to help Conway with the keg? I tried to remember, and as I did, I spoke aloud my recollections to Fulton:
Outside Connie's building, I ran into Laney, this girl I used to mess around with before Angel came along, and a couple times during that interval, as well, come to think of it. We'd been going on and off for years, since we were thirteen or so, but she lived in the housing projects off Gilmore Street, on the other side of town, so I hadn't seen her very often since I'd moved. She hadn't changed much, still tall and spindly with stringy, dirty blonde hair that was always a bit greasy, lots of scars and tattoos, but she had added another lip ring, to match her pierced nose, tongue and nipple, since I'd seen her last. She was tough, punk as fuck, sexy in her I-don't-give-a-shit-attitude, and had a lively, rather nasty sense of humour, all of which explained why we'd always got on so well. We started talking, comparing notes on shows and local bands, and she told me how she'd moved in with her new boyfriend last month. I knew the guy from working construction with him last summer; he was an asshole. I told her as much, and she agreed. I think that was when she kissed me, but maybe I kissed her first, it was hard to be sure. Anyway, the next thing I knew, we'd ducked into the alley for a quickie. It was too dark to see anything, and I liked the sightless contact, it made every sound amplified; our heavy breathing, the brick wall scraping against Laney's jeans in rhythm to my thrusting, the cars going by on the street behind us, an unknown something rustling softly to my right. I still liked Laney, and was plenty attracted to her--though in my inebriated state, I'd have probably made love to a garden gnome--but the whole time I was with her, I kept imagining she was Fulton. The feel of her hair reminded me of his, her skin was almost as smooth, but I wanted his body, his hard, strong muscles sheathed in softness. I wanted him. With nothing more than this thought in mind, I told Laney I had to go see someone (I didn't worry about her, that girl could take anything), and went back inside, where my sudden inspiration to woo Fulton blew up in my face. But I meant it, what I said. I still did. I just had to kiss him to know if what I felt was true.
He was silent a long time before speaking, and when he did, his voice was so low I could barely hear him: "What, you mean you really l—I mean, you're not really straight?"
I shrugged. "Got me, man. I'm so fucked up right now, I don't know what I am, except that I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. I don't know what else you'd call it."
He made a weird little noise in his throat, which he tried to cover up by a small coughing fit, after which he managed only, "So, it doesn't matter that I'm..." before his voice trailed off.
"What, a guy? I guess not. I mean, I think you're pretty and everything," he raised his eyebrows questioningly, and I laughed. "But it's like I need you more... psychologically than physically, I don't know. I've never liked a guy before. Maybe it's only you."
He looked a bit distressed at that, so I changed the subject. "So, you like me too, right?" He nodded wordlessly, and I smiled. "I mean, Johnny told me..."
"What?" His eyes flashed, and I was reminded of our first encounter, how he'd frightened me with his fierceness.
"Relax. After you ran off, I had to talk to him. He helped me figure out what I was feeling, and why you were acting like you were, and what I should do. He's really good for that sort of thing." I took a deep breath. Here we go. "So, if I like you, and you like me, we can be together, right?"
"We are together."
"You know what I mean." He shook his head. "You know... together. Like boyfriends, or whatever. Come on, dude, give me a break, here. This is hard for me, too." I reached out and stroked his cheek with my hand. He shuddered, and turned away. "What, so you don't want to be with me?" I couldn't seem to get a handle on the situation; the guy kept giving me mixed signals. I knew in my heart that he felt as I did, but I couldn't force him to admit it, could I?
Fulton sighed, and thumped his head back against the wall a couple of times, hard enough to make it vibrate. "Shit, Portman, what's wrong with me? Why is this so hard?" He shifted his weight so he was facing me, but kept his head lowered, so his hair hung in his face. "I love you so much, it hurts to look at you. You know that, right? I've been falling for you since we met, and every time I think I've hit bottom, it's just another plateau for me to go tumbling off of. I can't live like this."
I chuckled, and moved in closer. "You're just a sucker for pain, aren't you, Fult?" My face was inches from his; his breath warmed my cheek in short little bursts, but he didn't look up.
"So I'm told," he muttered, as turned his head away again.
I pulled back. "Why do you want to do this to yourself? I know you're scared of all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could get hurt; shit, man, I am, too. But even if all your worst-case scenarios came true, would you really be any worse off than if you never gave me a shot? I know I'm a slut, and I'm stupid and immature and irresponsible, but I would never hurt you on purpose, I swear. I'm not going to dump you for the next girl to come along; I've never had anything like this before, and damned if I'm going to be the one to fuck it all to hell."
The words came out of me so fast, I was out of breath by the time I'd finished. I looked over at Fulton; his eyes were still glued to the floor.
"Portman?" he asked softly.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I hit you."
"Huh?"
"Last night, after you kissed me... it was amazing. I just got so scared you didn't mean it... I'm such a fucking pussy. If I can't even take a chance on you..." He shook his head in disgust, then looked up at me with a shadowy little smile. "Want to try again?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
It was strange, new and wonderful, but familiar, too, because it was Fulton, and in the months we'd known each other, I'd come to know him better than anyone, except maybe Johnny. Once or twice, I almost pulled back--kissing a boy felt so different--but it was a good sort of different, the kind that scratched your cheek with stubble, smelled like sweat instead of perfume, and tasted like mint chapstick instead of cherry lip gloss.
That morning, we went no further than kissing, something for which I was secretly grateful. Kissing a boy was one thing, but I'd just realised I was going to have to get used to a whole different kind of fuck, and I was a little anxious about it, to tell you the truth. So I lay down on his mattress, rolled over so my back was pressed up against the wall, and pulled him in close to me. We spent ages like that, just staring and touching and kissing; discovering each other in an entirely new way. And call me a liar, or whatever, but I really mean it when I say it was better than sex.
I ran my fingers over the slightly raised flesh of the intricate tattoo that encircled Fulton's right bicep. It was gorgeous; a green, scaly dragon trimmed in gold, flames licking out from its nostrils. His uncle had done it for him when he was twelve, or so he had told me.
"Did you design it yourself?" I asked.
"Yeah, right. No, my mom did." He paused. "She always said I was a natural born chaser."
I knew the term; Angel used to call her brother that, cause the guy was always smoking heroin. "Are you?"
"I like to think all my problems are genetic, it cuts down on liability."
I looked down at the empty syringe lying wedged in a crack in the concrete floor. "So, how long have you been... you know?"
"Chasing the dragon?" He sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. "Since before I was born, man."
I thought about that for a minute. "You mean you were a heroin baby?"
He nodded.
"Your mom's not still..."
"Nah, we went through methadone together, I'm told. She still uses sometimes, though. And me... I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."
"Looks like slow suicide to me."
"Maybe, but then what do you call life?"
"Touché. So, you're not a junkie?"
He shook his head. "I don't shoot very often, just when I need, you know..."
"Serious pain relief?" I suggested.
"Yeah." He was silent for a moment, as I played with his hair, and then, "Portman?"
"Uh-huh?"
"How the fuck are we going to get out of here alive?"
"Not just alive, together."
"Same thing."
I grinned. "Yeah. First, we have to promise to always be straight with each other. No lies. Second, you have to join the Swordfish."
"What?"
"You heard me. And if you score a goal, I'm going to kiss you, and fucked if I care who sees me do it." I felt so lucky, like I'd just won the lottery, and he was the prize. I kept thinking of all the things I'd get to do with him, all that we had waiting for us, all I had yet to uncover about him. I loved the feeling of not knowing what was coming next, so different from what I was used to. My stomach felt all fluttery, but in a good way, like right before going out onto the ice in a big game, only more so.
He thought about it for a moment, then a smile broke out on his face, so wide it threatened to split it in half.
'And I'm the reason for that smile,' I thought giddily. I couldn't believe how good that felt. 'That smile is for me. ME.'
"Okay," he said. "You talked me into it; I concede. Now come on, I've got something to show you."
***
"Fult, what's going on? What's there to show me at J.J.'s?"
"Patience, my friend. Wait here."
He went through the blue-painted door at the back of the tiny garage. I looked around. I knew Fulton worked here part-time, but I could never figure out what he did the whole time; the place never seem to get much business at all. There was only one car in the garage, a navy blue old model Lexus sitting alone in the corner, and looking like it had been there a long time.
The sound of the back door opening turned my attention towards it, and in stepped Fulton, followed by a short, well-built man with a shaved head, and a cigar in his mouth. "J.J., this is Portman. Portman, J.J."
The guy extended his hand, and I shook it. "A pleasure," he said. "Fulton tells me you're okay, and I trust him, but I just want to make sure you know that I demand the utmost discretion from all my visitors, for legal reasons, of course. Still, I could really use another set of hands right now, so come along with Fulton next time, if you're up for it."
"Yeah, sure." I was beginning to understand what this was all about. The guy must run a chop shop, and the garage is only a front.
"Great. I gotta go, big order comin' in. Come by tomorrow, if you can." He gestured to my face. "Nice nose, kid. Who did that to you?"
"He did."
J.J. looked from Fulton to me, and back again. "I don't doubt it. Maybe you two should join the circuit; I'd pay big money to see you go at it. Just promise me you won't kill each other till this order's filled."
"Promise."
"Good. Nice to meet you Portman. See you guys later."
Through the blue door, and down many stairs we went; my suspicions were confirmed upon entry to an enormous underground garage, with three or four guys in greasy coveralls working on cars in varying states of deconstruction.
As Fulton led me towards the back of the room, one of the mechanics stopped working to say hello, to which he responded with a nod.
"Here it is," he said proudly, gesturing to the shrouded form of a car covered with a large dust cloth, which he removed to reveal a beat-up old Cadillac. A black one, my favourite colour. 1979 El Dorado, a real beauty.
I whistled. "You're working on it for J.J.?"
"Nope. For me. It's mine."
"You're kidding." He just smiled. "Did you steal it?"
"No, she was nothing when I started, I've been working on her for years. All that's left now is the body work."
"Wicked. So, you're going to take me for a ride?" Oops, THAT could be taken two ways.
He cocked an eyebrow, and I immediately felt it between my legs. 'Oh, boy,' I thought, as I opened the passenger door and slipped inside. The front seat was a bench, so as soon as Fulton got in, I slid over so I was pressed up against him. The white leather interior was worn, cracked in places, leaking stuffing in others; I immediately felt at home in the car. For one thing, it was big enough to seat us both comfortably, and my head didn't bang the ceiling. When Fulton turned the ignition and the engine roared to life, I could feel power surging up from beneath me. I felt like Steve Buscemi in Armageddon, riding that massive nuclear warhead. As we drove up the ramp and out of the garage, several of the mechanics cheered.
We drove slowly through our neighbourhood. I felt like a gangster. A mafia man. "Man, give this baby an open road, and I bet she'd just /fly/."
Fulton looked at me, and nodded excitedly. "I've been working on her engine for months, totally re-built from scratch. This is the first time I've really taken her out. She'll be ours, Portman. Yours and mine. We can drive all night, if we want."
I kissed his neck. "I love you."
He shivered. "Say it again."
I laughed, and started to undo his pants as he drove. "I love you, Fult."
His eyes widened as he realised what I intended to do. "Um... are you sure this is a good idea? Not that I'm not eager, mind you..."
"It'll be fine," I murmured. "Just keep your eyes on the road. And bear with me, I'm a beginner."
~~Approximately ten minutes later~~
"You sure don't act like a beginner," Fulton giggled, as he rebuttoned his jeans.
I took a mouthful of water from the bottle at my feet, swished it around, and spat out the window. I'd had girls try to explain the taste to me before, and Angel was right, indescribable was the word that best described it.
"I've seen it done a lot."
"I bet."
"Fult? Have you ever fucked a girl before?" He shook his head. "Ever wanted to?"
"No."
"You've always been into guys, then?"
"I guess, but it doesn't happen very often. Most of them just annoy the hell out of me."
I thought of Mike, and Joe, and the other losers I'd probably be hanging with right now if I didn't have Fulton. "I know what you mean. So, how many guys?"
"Have I slept with? Just one." I looked at him expectantly. "This kid in juvie, when I was 12."
"Oh. Was it... consensual?"
He smiled. "Yeah. I stopped him getting raped by these older kids. He was 15, but kinda small. Scrawny, even. Lucasz. With a Z. He was Polish."
I watched him slowly fade away into the past, his eyes clouding over in remembrance. I waited for him to come back, before asking, "What happened to him?"
"He got out a couple months before I did. Moved to New York. I never saw him again."
"What was he in for?"
"Arson. He was pretty fucked-up."
"But you loved him?"
He thought about it. "I almost did. Maybe I was too young, I don't know. But it wasn't anything like this. What about you? Have you ever loved anyone?"
"I don't think so, unless you count Johnny, or maybe my mom. Angel was Angel, and I love Laney as a friend, but everyone else was pretty much just a lay."
"You little tramp. How do I know I won't catch a disease from you?"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from a gay boy. Besides, you knew full well what you were getting into."
He put his arm around my shoulders, and rubbed my hair. "That I did. So, where do you want to go?"
I looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was early yet. I wanted to go somewhere loud, but I knew Fulton was a lot less social than I. "My mom'll be out all night. We could go back to my place."
"Or we could check out the Cobalt Room. It's Punk Rock Bingo Night, isn't it?"
"Yeah. This guy I know is playing there tonight. He'll get us in to the after party, if you want."
He looked at me, and his eyes were shining so brightly that for an instant, I thought he was going to cry. "You're going to change everything, aren't you, Port?"
I didn't say anything, just stared out the window of the Caddy as we cruisded down the road, eating up the dashed yellow lines like a Pac-Man. Things had been changing so much lately; was it only the beginning? I sure hoped so. So many things needed changing.
Notes:
Monday was my last day of classes for this semester, and I finally had time to wrap up this chapter, which I'd been sitting on for far too long. I'm only taking two or three courses this summer, so I promise the next one won't take so long, okay? I know things are pretty gooey and angsty now, and while more angst cometh, there should be more fun, as well, so I hope I haven't got you guys down or anything. I missed out on the notes last time, so I have to do a bit of catch-up. All these readers I didn't know I had came out of the woodworks:
Pixie: Wow, keep those comparisons to Tolkien comin', baby, you know I love them! Now that school's out, I'll be checking for Missing Scene updates and reviewing soon. I'm sorry to say that the non-Minnesota Ducks will not be appearing in this fic, except for possible references, but take heart, dearest Ken-lover! My next full-length fic will feature the Bashes, Ken, and my first big OC in primary roles, so if I ever get around to that, it should deliver what you desire, I hope.
IceEyes: Man, I just love virgin reviewers! I'm sorry this took so bloody long, and I'll try to make the next update speedier, okay? I like to imagine you as having those really cool, frosty blue eyes, like Elden's, only darker.
NYgoldfish: I'm so pleased to learn that you've been reading this, and that you like it so much. I often wondered if you'd ever read any of my stories. Saying that my writing makes you feel IS one of the best compliments I could get, so thank you. I hope you liked this one.
KShynne99: Another big MD fanfic presence! Very glad to have reeled you in, dear. You may not be all caught up by now, but if so, thanks for the review.
Checkmate: I have to ask: If not for chess, what are you named for? Hockey?
Cards: Woah, indeed. You reviewed BBL a LONG time ago, didn't you? A fellow Everclear fan, if I recall correctly? Great to see I've kept your interest all this time!
huggles**bunny: Another long-ago reviewer resurfaces. I suppose I have my ungodly delay to thank for the influx of new reviews. Anyway, thanks for the thumbs up!
~T~: I hope this provided you with some release, with regards to the Bashies' relationship.
Lisa14: Ask and ye shall receive. I got your review just as I prepared to upload this chapter. I may not be able to promise consistent updates, but I can promise this: that as long as I write fanfiction, it will centre around the Bash Brothers. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anne918: Hey Gina, how was your vacation? Where'd you go? Get lots of inspiration for Opposites Attract, I hope? I'll have to make sure my reviews are up to date... I'm hoping to prompt some much-needed rainfall in the Duckie fandom, now that I have more free time. If we can get Star and Schiz to join in our updates, I'll be as happy as a Bashie in a mosh pit!
Schiz: Missing you, babe. Hope you're not working yourself into the ground, or getting too comfortable as a fry-girl, because I have different plans for you, yes indeed. Write me soon and let me know what's going on with you, okay?
He stirred a few times, made a funny little snuffle sound, and as his eyes slowly opened and came to rest on my own, I knew this was for real.
"You didn't really think I'd let you get away that easy, did you?"
He blinked at me, then sat up on the mattress, rubbing his eyes. I had to shift over to make room for him, and accidentally brushed his bare arm, the one with the needle mark still visible from last night. He jerked away from me like I'd burned him, looked down at the leftovers from his little party lying scattered about on the floor, then over at the door that led to the rest of basement. He was going to bolt; I could feel it. He started to stand up, but I pushed him back onto the bed, a little more forcefully than I'd intended.
"Don't you dare run out on me again, man. We've got some things to talk about."
He looked at me sideways, like he was waiting for something awful to happen. "Like what?"
I snorted. "I swear, Fult, how can you someone as smart as you be so fucking dumb? How about me kissing you, and you bailing on me, or maybe this taste for heroin I never knew you had? Either of those would be a good place to start, don't you think?" I sat down heavily on the little wooden stool. I hadn't mentioned what I'd said last night, how I'd dropped the l- word out of the blue. Whether that was because I was afraid of scaring him off, or because I was still afraid, even after all that Johnny had said, that he didn't feel the same, I wasn't sure. Both, I guess. Since when did Fulton become so scary? He was Stick Man, the only guy I'd ever met who was crazy like I was crazy, but... he looked so different to me, now. And I liked it. A lot. How could I not have seen this before?
He sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I owe you that. I got freaked, dude, what do you expect? You're like, the straightest guy I know, and suddenly you're kissing me, and saying... all sorts of shit, and all I know is you're drunk, and you just finished getting it on with some ex, some female ex, at that. I know you're not gay, but are you even bi?"
How did this get turned around onto me? Damnit, this always happened with Fulton. The guy didn't open his mouth much, but when he did, look out. He could turn a conversation in any way he wanted it to go, and he used words and logic like weapons; trying to argue with him was like trying to scale the Great Wall of China using a fork as a pickaxe. But the thing was, he almost always had a point, just like he did here.
I /was/ pretty drunk last night; what exactly happened after I went to help Conway with the keg? I tried to remember, and as I did, I spoke aloud my recollections to Fulton:
Outside Connie's building, I ran into Laney, this girl I used to mess around with before Angel came along, and a couple times during that interval, as well, come to think of it. We'd been going on and off for years, since we were thirteen or so, but she lived in the housing projects off Gilmore Street, on the other side of town, so I hadn't seen her very often since I'd moved. She hadn't changed much, still tall and spindly with stringy, dirty blonde hair that was always a bit greasy, lots of scars and tattoos, but she had added another lip ring, to match her pierced nose, tongue and nipple, since I'd seen her last. She was tough, punk as fuck, sexy in her I-don't-give-a-shit-attitude, and had a lively, rather nasty sense of humour, all of which explained why we'd always got on so well. We started talking, comparing notes on shows and local bands, and she told me how she'd moved in with her new boyfriend last month. I knew the guy from working construction with him last summer; he was an asshole. I told her as much, and she agreed. I think that was when she kissed me, but maybe I kissed her first, it was hard to be sure. Anyway, the next thing I knew, we'd ducked into the alley for a quickie. It was too dark to see anything, and I liked the sightless contact, it made every sound amplified; our heavy breathing, the brick wall scraping against Laney's jeans in rhythm to my thrusting, the cars going by on the street behind us, an unknown something rustling softly to my right. I still liked Laney, and was plenty attracted to her--though in my inebriated state, I'd have probably made love to a garden gnome--but the whole time I was with her, I kept imagining she was Fulton. The feel of her hair reminded me of his, her skin was almost as smooth, but I wanted his body, his hard, strong muscles sheathed in softness. I wanted him. With nothing more than this thought in mind, I told Laney I had to go see someone (I didn't worry about her, that girl could take anything), and went back inside, where my sudden inspiration to woo Fulton blew up in my face. But I meant it, what I said. I still did. I just had to kiss him to know if what I felt was true.
He was silent a long time before speaking, and when he did, his voice was so low I could barely hear him: "What, you mean you really l—I mean, you're not really straight?"
I shrugged. "Got me, man. I'm so fucked up right now, I don't know what I am, except that I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. I don't know what else you'd call it."
He made a weird little noise in his throat, which he tried to cover up by a small coughing fit, after which he managed only, "So, it doesn't matter that I'm..." before his voice trailed off.
"What, a guy? I guess not. I mean, I think you're pretty and everything," he raised his eyebrows questioningly, and I laughed. "But it's like I need you more... psychologically than physically, I don't know. I've never liked a guy before. Maybe it's only you."
He looked a bit distressed at that, so I changed the subject. "So, you like me too, right?" He nodded wordlessly, and I smiled. "I mean, Johnny told me..."
"What?" His eyes flashed, and I was reminded of our first encounter, how he'd frightened me with his fierceness.
"Relax. After you ran off, I had to talk to him. He helped me figure out what I was feeling, and why you were acting like you were, and what I should do. He's really good for that sort of thing." I took a deep breath. Here we go. "So, if I like you, and you like me, we can be together, right?"
"We are together."
"You know what I mean." He shook his head. "You know... together. Like boyfriends, or whatever. Come on, dude, give me a break, here. This is hard for me, too." I reached out and stroked his cheek with my hand. He shuddered, and turned away. "What, so you don't want to be with me?" I couldn't seem to get a handle on the situation; the guy kept giving me mixed signals. I knew in my heart that he felt as I did, but I couldn't force him to admit it, could I?
Fulton sighed, and thumped his head back against the wall a couple of times, hard enough to make it vibrate. "Shit, Portman, what's wrong with me? Why is this so hard?" He shifted his weight so he was facing me, but kept his head lowered, so his hair hung in his face. "I love you so much, it hurts to look at you. You know that, right? I've been falling for you since we met, and every time I think I've hit bottom, it's just another plateau for me to go tumbling off of. I can't live like this."
I chuckled, and moved in closer. "You're just a sucker for pain, aren't you, Fult?" My face was inches from his; his breath warmed my cheek in short little bursts, but he didn't look up.
"So I'm told," he muttered, as turned his head away again.
I pulled back. "Why do you want to do this to yourself? I know you're scared of all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could get hurt; shit, man, I am, too. But even if all your worst-case scenarios came true, would you really be any worse off than if you never gave me a shot? I know I'm a slut, and I'm stupid and immature and irresponsible, but I would never hurt you on purpose, I swear. I'm not going to dump you for the next girl to come along; I've never had anything like this before, and damned if I'm going to be the one to fuck it all to hell."
The words came out of me so fast, I was out of breath by the time I'd finished. I looked over at Fulton; his eyes were still glued to the floor.
"Portman?" he asked softly.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I hit you."
"Huh?"
"Last night, after you kissed me... it was amazing. I just got so scared you didn't mean it... I'm such a fucking pussy. If I can't even take a chance on you..." He shook his head in disgust, then looked up at me with a shadowy little smile. "Want to try again?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
It was strange, new and wonderful, but familiar, too, because it was Fulton, and in the months we'd known each other, I'd come to know him better than anyone, except maybe Johnny. Once or twice, I almost pulled back--kissing a boy felt so different--but it was a good sort of different, the kind that scratched your cheek with stubble, smelled like sweat instead of perfume, and tasted like mint chapstick instead of cherry lip gloss.
That morning, we went no further than kissing, something for which I was secretly grateful. Kissing a boy was one thing, but I'd just realised I was going to have to get used to a whole different kind of fuck, and I was a little anxious about it, to tell you the truth. So I lay down on his mattress, rolled over so my back was pressed up against the wall, and pulled him in close to me. We spent ages like that, just staring and touching and kissing; discovering each other in an entirely new way. And call me a liar, or whatever, but I really mean it when I say it was better than sex.
I ran my fingers over the slightly raised flesh of the intricate tattoo that encircled Fulton's right bicep. It was gorgeous; a green, scaly dragon trimmed in gold, flames licking out from its nostrils. His uncle had done it for him when he was twelve, or so he had told me.
"Did you design it yourself?" I asked.
"Yeah, right. No, my mom did." He paused. "She always said I was a natural born chaser."
I knew the term; Angel used to call her brother that, cause the guy was always smoking heroin. "Are you?"
"I like to think all my problems are genetic, it cuts down on liability."
I looked down at the empty syringe lying wedged in a crack in the concrete floor. "So, how long have you been... you know?"
"Chasing the dragon?" He sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. "Since before I was born, man."
I thought about that for a minute. "You mean you were a heroin baby?"
He nodded.
"Your mom's not still..."
"Nah, we went through methadone together, I'm told. She still uses sometimes, though. And me... I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."
"Looks like slow suicide to me."
"Maybe, but then what do you call life?"
"Touché. So, you're not a junkie?"
He shook his head. "I don't shoot very often, just when I need, you know..."
"Serious pain relief?" I suggested.
"Yeah." He was silent for a moment, as I played with his hair, and then, "Portman?"
"Uh-huh?"
"How the fuck are we going to get out of here alive?"
"Not just alive, together."
"Same thing."
I grinned. "Yeah. First, we have to promise to always be straight with each other. No lies. Second, you have to join the Swordfish."
"What?"
"You heard me. And if you score a goal, I'm going to kiss you, and fucked if I care who sees me do it." I felt so lucky, like I'd just won the lottery, and he was the prize. I kept thinking of all the things I'd get to do with him, all that we had waiting for us, all I had yet to uncover about him. I loved the feeling of not knowing what was coming next, so different from what I was used to. My stomach felt all fluttery, but in a good way, like right before going out onto the ice in a big game, only more so.
He thought about it for a moment, then a smile broke out on his face, so wide it threatened to split it in half.
'And I'm the reason for that smile,' I thought giddily. I couldn't believe how good that felt. 'That smile is for me. ME.'
"Okay," he said. "You talked me into it; I concede. Now come on, I've got something to show you."
***
"Fult, what's going on? What's there to show me at J.J.'s?"
"Patience, my friend. Wait here."
He went through the blue-painted door at the back of the tiny garage. I looked around. I knew Fulton worked here part-time, but I could never figure out what he did the whole time; the place never seem to get much business at all. There was only one car in the garage, a navy blue old model Lexus sitting alone in the corner, and looking like it had been there a long time.
The sound of the back door opening turned my attention towards it, and in stepped Fulton, followed by a short, well-built man with a shaved head, and a cigar in his mouth. "J.J., this is Portman. Portman, J.J."
The guy extended his hand, and I shook it. "A pleasure," he said. "Fulton tells me you're okay, and I trust him, but I just want to make sure you know that I demand the utmost discretion from all my visitors, for legal reasons, of course. Still, I could really use another set of hands right now, so come along with Fulton next time, if you're up for it."
"Yeah, sure." I was beginning to understand what this was all about. The guy must run a chop shop, and the garage is only a front.
"Great. I gotta go, big order comin' in. Come by tomorrow, if you can." He gestured to my face. "Nice nose, kid. Who did that to you?"
"He did."
J.J. looked from Fulton to me, and back again. "I don't doubt it. Maybe you two should join the circuit; I'd pay big money to see you go at it. Just promise me you won't kill each other till this order's filled."
"Promise."
"Good. Nice to meet you Portman. See you guys later."
Through the blue door, and down many stairs we went; my suspicions were confirmed upon entry to an enormous underground garage, with three or four guys in greasy coveralls working on cars in varying states of deconstruction.
As Fulton led me towards the back of the room, one of the mechanics stopped working to say hello, to which he responded with a nod.
"Here it is," he said proudly, gesturing to the shrouded form of a car covered with a large dust cloth, which he removed to reveal a beat-up old Cadillac. A black one, my favourite colour. 1979 El Dorado, a real beauty.
I whistled. "You're working on it for J.J.?"
"Nope. For me. It's mine."
"You're kidding." He just smiled. "Did you steal it?"
"No, she was nothing when I started, I've been working on her for years. All that's left now is the body work."
"Wicked. So, you're going to take me for a ride?" Oops, THAT could be taken two ways.
He cocked an eyebrow, and I immediately felt it between my legs. 'Oh, boy,' I thought, as I opened the passenger door and slipped inside. The front seat was a bench, so as soon as Fulton got in, I slid over so I was pressed up against him. The white leather interior was worn, cracked in places, leaking stuffing in others; I immediately felt at home in the car. For one thing, it was big enough to seat us both comfortably, and my head didn't bang the ceiling. When Fulton turned the ignition and the engine roared to life, I could feel power surging up from beneath me. I felt like Steve Buscemi in Armageddon, riding that massive nuclear warhead. As we drove up the ramp and out of the garage, several of the mechanics cheered.
We drove slowly through our neighbourhood. I felt like a gangster. A mafia man. "Man, give this baby an open road, and I bet she'd just /fly/."
Fulton looked at me, and nodded excitedly. "I've been working on her engine for months, totally re-built from scratch. This is the first time I've really taken her out. She'll be ours, Portman. Yours and mine. We can drive all night, if we want."
I kissed his neck. "I love you."
He shivered. "Say it again."
I laughed, and started to undo his pants as he drove. "I love you, Fult."
His eyes widened as he realised what I intended to do. "Um... are you sure this is a good idea? Not that I'm not eager, mind you..."
"It'll be fine," I murmured. "Just keep your eyes on the road. And bear with me, I'm a beginner."
~~Approximately ten minutes later~~
"You sure don't act like a beginner," Fulton giggled, as he rebuttoned his jeans.
I took a mouthful of water from the bottle at my feet, swished it around, and spat out the window. I'd had girls try to explain the taste to me before, and Angel was right, indescribable was the word that best described it.
"I've seen it done a lot."
"I bet."
"Fult? Have you ever fucked a girl before?" He shook his head. "Ever wanted to?"
"No."
"You've always been into guys, then?"
"I guess, but it doesn't happen very often. Most of them just annoy the hell out of me."
I thought of Mike, and Joe, and the other losers I'd probably be hanging with right now if I didn't have Fulton. "I know what you mean. So, how many guys?"
"Have I slept with? Just one." I looked at him expectantly. "This kid in juvie, when I was 12."
"Oh. Was it... consensual?"
He smiled. "Yeah. I stopped him getting raped by these older kids. He was 15, but kinda small. Scrawny, even. Lucasz. With a Z. He was Polish."
I watched him slowly fade away into the past, his eyes clouding over in remembrance. I waited for him to come back, before asking, "What happened to him?"
"He got out a couple months before I did. Moved to New York. I never saw him again."
"What was he in for?"
"Arson. He was pretty fucked-up."
"But you loved him?"
He thought about it. "I almost did. Maybe I was too young, I don't know. But it wasn't anything like this. What about you? Have you ever loved anyone?"
"I don't think so, unless you count Johnny, or maybe my mom. Angel was Angel, and I love Laney as a friend, but everyone else was pretty much just a lay."
"You little tramp. How do I know I won't catch a disease from you?"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from a gay boy. Besides, you knew full well what you were getting into."
He put his arm around my shoulders, and rubbed my hair. "That I did. So, where do you want to go?"
I looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was early yet. I wanted to go somewhere loud, but I knew Fulton was a lot less social than I. "My mom'll be out all night. We could go back to my place."
"Or we could check out the Cobalt Room. It's Punk Rock Bingo Night, isn't it?"
"Yeah. This guy I know is playing there tonight. He'll get us in to the after party, if you want."
He looked at me, and his eyes were shining so brightly that for an instant, I thought he was going to cry. "You're going to change everything, aren't you, Port?"
I didn't say anything, just stared out the window of the Caddy as we cruisded down the road, eating up the dashed yellow lines like a Pac-Man. Things had been changing so much lately; was it only the beginning? I sure hoped so. So many things needed changing.
Notes:
Monday was my last day of classes for this semester, and I finally had time to wrap up this chapter, which I'd been sitting on for far too long. I'm only taking two or three courses this summer, so I promise the next one won't take so long, okay? I know things are pretty gooey and angsty now, and while more angst cometh, there should be more fun, as well, so I hope I haven't got you guys down or anything. I missed out on the notes last time, so I have to do a bit of catch-up. All these readers I didn't know I had came out of the woodworks:
Pixie: Wow, keep those comparisons to Tolkien comin', baby, you know I love them! Now that school's out, I'll be checking for Missing Scene updates and reviewing soon. I'm sorry to say that the non-Minnesota Ducks will not be appearing in this fic, except for possible references, but take heart, dearest Ken-lover! My next full-length fic will feature the Bashes, Ken, and my first big OC in primary roles, so if I ever get around to that, it should deliver what you desire, I hope.
IceEyes: Man, I just love virgin reviewers! I'm sorry this took so bloody long, and I'll try to make the next update speedier, okay? I like to imagine you as having those really cool, frosty blue eyes, like Elden's, only darker.
NYgoldfish: I'm so pleased to learn that you've been reading this, and that you like it so much. I often wondered if you'd ever read any of my stories. Saying that my writing makes you feel IS one of the best compliments I could get, so thank you. I hope you liked this one.
KShynne99: Another big MD fanfic presence! Very glad to have reeled you in, dear. You may not be all caught up by now, but if so, thanks for the review.
Checkmate: I have to ask: If not for chess, what are you named for? Hockey?
Cards: Woah, indeed. You reviewed BBL a LONG time ago, didn't you? A fellow Everclear fan, if I recall correctly? Great to see I've kept your interest all this time!
huggles**bunny: Another long-ago reviewer resurfaces. I suppose I have my ungodly delay to thank for the influx of new reviews. Anyway, thanks for the thumbs up!
~T~: I hope this provided you with some release, with regards to the Bashies' relationship.
Lisa14: Ask and ye shall receive. I got your review just as I prepared to upload this chapter. I may not be able to promise consistent updates, but I can promise this: that as long as I write fanfiction, it will centre around the Bash Brothers. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anne918: Hey Gina, how was your vacation? Where'd you go? Get lots of inspiration for Opposites Attract, I hope? I'll have to make sure my reviews are up to date... I'm hoping to prompt some much-needed rainfall in the Duckie fandom, now that I have more free time. If we can get Star and Schiz to join in our updates, I'll be as happy as a Bashie in a mosh pit!
Schiz: Missing you, babe. Hope you're not working yourself into the ground, or getting too comfortable as a fry-girl, because I have different plans for you, yes indeed. Write me soon and let me know what's going on with you, okay?