Chapter 2
Drinks
Thoughts about Doug weighed heavily on him for the rest of the day, and by the time he was sober enough to drive home, he was close to becoming obsessed. It was late evening, Saturday evening, and he knew that Doug would most likely be home. It was a stupid impulse, he knew, to go over there, but he'd done worse. And he knew that his curiosity wouldn't stop bothering him until he'd seen Doug. No way would he be able to sleep tonight if he didn't go over there and say something.
His mind made up, Jack turned his car in the direction of Doug's apartment.
It was later than was perhaps polite when he got there, but Doug buzzed him in anyway. Since Jack had returned to Capeside, he and Doug had been hanging out a lot, usually in the company of Pacey. They even had a weekly card game on Wednesday nights, though oftentimes one of the three of them couldn't make it due to tests to grade, work on the restaurant, or police emergencies. But coming over, even this late, just to hang out was not unheard of.
Jack felt unaccountably nervous as he mounted the stairs up to Doug's apartment. It was silly, he knew. There was no reason to suspect that Doug would be unreasonable about Jack's discovery. But it would still probably be tense. And Jack hated tense.
He knocked on the door lightly, and it was opened by a relaxed-looking Doug, with open button-down shirt and rolled-up pants cuffs. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, and Jack got quite the eyeful of well-muscled chest. He'd noticed Doug's impressive cop physique before, of course, but before, Doug had never been a possibility. Now, knowing what he knew, the sight of Doug's bare chest made his heart beat a little faster.
He cleared his throat. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," said Doug amiably. "What brings you around? Want some tea or something? I was just heating up the water."
Jack walked into the apartment and sat down in a large, comfy blue easychair in the living room, watching Doug as he padded around the kitchenette, his back to Jack. Wanting to ease into the subject, but having really no clue how to do so, Jack said the first thing that came to mind.
"Isn't he a little young for you?" he asked.
"Huh?" Doug gave Jack an amused, curious look over his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"
Damn! Jack had never noticed what a good liar Doug was. He hadn't even flinched. He looked perfectly innocent, like he really had no idea what Jack was referring to. So much so, in fact, that for an instant Jack wondered if he had been mistaken, if maybe it had been someone else in the bar. The lighting had been dim, maybe it could have been someone else? ...But no. No. He was sure it had been Doug. Jeeze. No wonder he had managed to keep it secret for so long.
Jack sighed. "I saw you in Boston today. At the bar. I was there. I saw you kiss that kid. Cat's out of the bag."
Doug paused, but did not turn around. There was a long silence.
Finally, Doug took the teacup he had taken out of the cupboard and carefully put it back. Instead, he reached up to a higher shelf and took out two shot glasses. He opened another cabinet door down by his shins and removed a large bottle of tequila. Taking the three glass objects, he returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa across from Jack, placing his burden on the coffee table between them.
"I think this is called for," he muttered, pouring two shots and passing one to Jack. He knocked his back quickly and poured a second. "So... you saw."
Jack nodded, accepting the shot that was offered him. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me? I would have understood."
Doug sighed, and the sound was more tired and lonely than anything Jack had ever heard. "I know you would have," he said. "But I can't tell anyone. I just can't. I have my job to think of, and the community. And I'm just not... not ready to let the world know about me yet. It's okay in Boston, where I'm relatively anonymous. But Capeside? Well hell, you know better than me. You were the one who got outed here." He paused a moment, then looked at Jack seriously. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"
Jack snorted. "Of course not. As you said, I'm the one who knows what it's like to be outed, right? I'll keep your secret 'til you're ready to out with it yourself. But..." Jack paused, watching Doug carefully. "Isn't it lonely for you? Keeping a secret like that?"
Doug shrugged, but Jack could see how it weighed on him. "I have Tom," he said.
"Who?"
"That guy I was with," Doug explained. "His name's Tom."
"How old is he anyway?" Jack asked.
Doug took another shot of the tequila before he answered. "Twenty-one," he said eventually. "He's mature for his age, though. And he's been out since he was, like, fourteen. It's kind of awe-inspiring."
"Hm," said Jack non-commitally. Doug wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the floor, one hand holding his shot glass, the other supporting his head. He looked tired.
Not quite sure what compelled him to do so, Jack got out of the easy chair and walked to Doug's side, sitting down on the sofa next to him. He put a hand on Doug's shoulder. "It's okay, you know. It's not easy to come out. I've been told it's harder the longer you've been in the closet, too."
Doug lifted his head and placed the hand that had been supporting it over Jack's own. "Thanks," he said quietly.
Jack poured him another shot.