[how private tabs helped peter get a clue]

Peter has never been so well-fed in his entire life. No, really. Like, it's an actual miracle he can still fit into his pants because the amount of food Garrett provides for him has him stuffed just, like, all the time. He's so happy that Garrett has chosen him to be his experimental food taste tester. The best decision either of them has made in their entire lives - seriously. Peter, who is admittedly prone to more than a little exaggeration, is 100% serious about this. Letting Peter be a taste-tester is a dream come true. One of them, at least.

He munches on another bite of what he's going to call s'mores nachos. Garrett had done something with graham crackers, he thinks, to make these flat chip-like crisps that are layered between melty, perfectly browned marshmallows, three different kinds of chocolate, caramel, and gloriously salty peanuts. He loves the days where Garrett splits his time between the food truck and the office - it's definitely the best of both worlds for him. Peter's face is sticky with the concoction and he keeps having to suck bits of chocolately marshmallows off his fingers, but he's still groaning with happiness at every bite.

"Man, this is so good," he says, licking at his lips.

Garrett stares at him for a beat, eyes flicking around his face, especially his mouth for some reason. "Too sweet."

"The peanuts balance it!" Peter denies it quickly. Honestly, he doesn't know how Garrett does it, but he has a way of knowing what Peter isn't saying, particularly when it comes to food. Peter's been accused of having an expressive face in the past, so maybe that's it. Or maybe Garrett has his own suspicions and he just uses Peter has, like, a fact-check or something. Who knows? The point is, Peter isn't going to listen to Garrett say he's made something less than mouthwateringly fantastic. "You could salt the caramel, I guess, but I like it just like this! Anything that makes my tongue work this hard has to be delicious!"

Garrett looks down, brows furrowed together as he wipes up some sauce and chocolate from the steel countertop of his food truck. They're inside the kitchen area, kind of scrunched together because they're both tall guys - Garrett's taller and broader, obviously - so the fit isn't exactly comfortable, or it wouldn't be if it was someone else. Peter's always been a tactile guy, but even he doesn't usually get this close to his buddies. Garrett gets to be the exception, mostly because he plies Peter with the aforementioned delicious food. This is why Peter gives absolutely zero fucks when he swoops under Garrett's arm, his spine snug to Garrett's chest, and wiggles in glee when he makes a successful steal of the remainder of the s'mores nachos.

Garrett coughs. He should really see a doctor about that, since he seems to have a weird habit of coughing randomly, just like, all the time. Not hacking coughs or that God-awful cough Peter's uncle makes before he pops a loogie or anything. Just more a persistent dry cough that afflicts Garrett anytime Peter is near.

Peter frowns around his mouthful of delicious sugar. Is Garrett allergic to him?

Peter twists around until he and Garrett are face to face - and hip to hip - and says his question out loud. Because his mouth is full, it comes out kind of garbled, but Garrett seems to understand. "Not allergic to you," Garrett says firmly. And then he takes a step back and retrieves a glass of water for Peter. "Drink."

Peter, not one to defy friendly order-like help, takes the glass and washes the sweetness down his throat and off his chest. "If you were allergic to me, I could change my soap or something," he offers anyway because he's a nice guy. And also because he's almost out of soap anyway, so it's not like it would put him out to buy a new bottle.

"Soap is fine."

"If you say so."

"Do."

Peter sighs. His stomach is pleasantly full and he can feel sugar buzzing through his system already. He reaches a hand out, clapping Garrett's firm, muscular shoulder, and smiles a megawatt grin. "You know, even with your monosyllabic nature, you know all the ways to keep me happy, huh?"

Peter isn't exactly expecting an answer. Half the time he talks, nobody answers anyway, which is something he's grown used to all his life. Granted, Garrett has a habit of answering more often than anyone else, or at least more directly, but Peter still isn't anticipating, like, a true answer - and he especially isn't prepared for the abruptly heavy way Garrett looks at him, or the way Garrett's dark eyes trail over Peter's face and down his throat and down lower still, or the way Peter feels like a specimen under a microscope when Garrett does any of this.

"Not all," Garrett says.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Peter laughs, inexplicably nervous. Wow, but he and Garrett are, like, really close now, aren't they? Like, super close. Like, Peter can keenly feel Garrett's body heat and this food truck kitchen is super tiny close. "Are there other ways to keep me happy that I don't even know about?"

Garrett gifts him with a fantastically flat, if not pointed, stare.

Now, okay, it's not all that often that Peter has the privilege of hearing the words he says as they might sound to other people. Usually, he just speaks and the words are out there, and then it's done. But sometimes, on rare occasions, he'll actually hear what he's said and realize that he's well and truly made a massive verbal blunder. Because if even Garrett is silently telling him that Peter's made one hell of an innuendo, then Peter really did say something worth being mortified over.

And that's why he stutters through some awkward laughter, looking away and back and away again. He pats Garrett's chest weakly. "Ahhh, aha...Garrett," Peter says, cautious and embarrassed. "I don't know if that's really your business."

Because it's one thing for Emmett to stumble across Peter's internet cache and give him grief about it, and it's another thing entirely for Garrett to bring it up. Because, like, it's Garrett, and Peter's mind has a way of shying away from anything that could remotely make him less likely to talk to this particular friend.

And yet here Garrett is, saying the silent things out loud! Have mercy!

"Is," Garrett says, a low voice that has Peter shivering.

Peter laughs again, a stuttering, breathless, nervous noise. "Wh-what? I mean - that isn't - What are you saying?" Peter demands, wide-eyed, and panicky for reasons he can't even wrap his mind around. He clutches onto his humor-driven defense mechanism like a goddamn lifeline, trying to bust up the heavy tension between them, condensed into this too-small space, that is making his heart feel like a record-scratch in his chest. "Where did you get that sense of humor? Warn a man, first!"

"Not joking."

Is it just him or does Garrett seem a lot closer than he did before?

"What do you mean? Are you serious?" Peter demands, shying away from the sheer force of Garrett's weighted gaze. "If you aren't joking, then you're saying..."

Peter can't even finish the sentence. He can't even complete the thought.

Fortunately - or maybe, unfortunately, depending on who's asking, really - Garrett seems more than willing to finish the thought for him. "Is my business," Garrett says decisively, gazing at Peter steadily. "Will be my business."

Peter, who has never felt truly flustered once in his life, is blushing to the roots of his hair, probably beet red. Because. Because, well, Garrett...he's saying things. He's saying things to Peter. Things that make Peter a gibbering mess, and he really just can't believe it! Peter looks at Garrett, utterly caught, and swallows heavily. He should say something, like, "my privates aren't your business now or in the future, buddy!" or "what me and my left hand do is between me and my left hand!" but the words just don't come. Peter is speechless.

By the luck of some higher power that Peter will totally pray thankfulness for in the future, Peter's phone chooses that moment to go off. He scrambles to pluck the device from his pocket, swiping at the screen with sweat-nervous hands, trying not to sound half as breathless as he feels when he answers. He doesn't even look at who's calling, but it doesn't matter.

It turns out to be Emmett. "Hey, not to interrupt your date-"

Peter cuts Emmett off right there. "It's not a date!" he yells, too loud, because Garrett is right there, looking at Peter with that same stone-wall expression as always, and he doesn't seem the least bit offended at Peter's outburst, which Peter can't wrap his head around, either. Because if Peter had been putting the moves on someone - and that is what Garrett was doing, right? - then he would probably be a little insulted if the first thing they said to someone about it was the move-putting wasn't even happening in the first place.

This guy! Ugh!

On the other end of the line, Emmett snorts. "-yeah, okay, whatever. Look, Mase needs K.O. right away. He has that dumb constipated look on his face that means more work is coming for the rest of us, and he's looking for K.O., so..."

"Why did you call me, then?" Peter gripes.

"Why should I? K.O. is wherever you are, and you actually answer your phone."

Is that true? Like, Peter obviously knows that he and K.O. hang out a lot, because that's what buddies do. But to think they're around each other so much that their friends know to call Peter instead of Garrett to pass messages along is, just...Well, Peter thinks that definitely means something. It's probably more damning than Peter not even realizing it in the first place!

"Can you get his sulky ass here, or do I really need to come to get him?" Emmett demands, jolting Peter out of his thoughts.

"We're on our way," Peter answers, somewhat absently, and then hangs up. He flutters a glance at Garrett. "Uh, the bossman is requesting your presence. Like, now."

Garrett nods and, with a truly admirable, if not confounding, ability manages to pull back the intensity still taking up all the air in the food truck. "Have to wait for staff," he says, gesturing around with a damp rag he's picked up again. "You go ahead."

Peter's head bobs. "Yeah. I'll, uh, do that. And...I guess I'll see you later?"

Garrett watches silently as Peter stumbles out of the food truck and, like, it's probably Peter's imagination, but he's pretty sure he can feel Garrett looking at him as he scurries his ass out of dodge, too. Peter's quick pace doesn't slow for at least a block, and when it does, he finds that his knees are weak and he has to rest against the side of a building for a moment.

Wow. That was...intense. Whatever that was was so fucking intense.

What just happened? Did Garret really just...?

Shit. Yeah, he did. He definitely did. No mistake about that. Peter's never been at the receiving end of a come-on, but he knows the looks of one when he sees it, and Garrett was sign-seal-delivering no doubt about it.

Is that...okay? Is Peter cool with that?

Well, it's not like Peter really gives a shit about what revs someone else's engines. He's a proud ally, okay? Sexual orientation is just a thing he doesn't care about. Like, Alistair is so ace it's ridiculous and Emmett's entire sexual interest is focused on one unattainable girl and Masen, for the longest time, was just beyond figuring out, although recently it seems like he has the most game out of all of them. And Peter? He's liked girls since forever. So, it doesn't bother him, but it's also...

Wait. Does Peter like girls? He'd always thought so, but maybe not. Or maybe he does, but he also likes guys? And maybe Garrett is picking up on some bisexual vibe Peter's putting out, and that's why he...said those things. It's possible. Like, okay, Peter has always noticed pretty people, and he's confident enough in his masculinity to know that sometimes dudes are a lot prettier than girls. Dudes are also a lot more intimidating.

Holy shit. Maybe that's it. Maybe Peter's been a mess of chaotic bi energy for his entire life, but he's been too intimidated by other dudes to give it a shot, so he's just been thinking he's as hetero as ever the whole time even though he's probably as straight as a right angle. Although of all the intimidating dudes he's met, Garrett is at the top of the list. And yet, here he is, wondering. Because - well, especially in Garrett's case, it's not like Peter's been blind to how sharp that jaw is or how frim and broad that body is or how that deep, seldom-spoken voice washes over him like velvet and -

Yeah. Yeah, maybe Peter needs to think about this some more?

Peter laughs to himself - at himself. He can't believe that he's coming to such a heavy, life-altering epitome in the streets, but it's also to typically him that he really can't expect anything else, can he?

"Garrett, man," Peter mumbles, muffling his words into his hands, which he has pressed against this face. He shakes his head with a helpless laugh. "You've opened my eyes."

Peter better double-check his personal laptop's firewalls before he goes online tonight. He has a feeling his usual search history is going to look a little different than usual - for the sake of research, obviously. He has to know for sure! And he will, and then he'll...figure out where to go from there!

.

.

.

"What took you so long? Where's K.O.?" Emmett demands the second Peter walks into Midnight Sun because he's both rude and a dumbass.

Peter makes a face at him, sticking his tongue out, trying to ignore the way his body jumped when Emmett so much as referenced the current subject of Peter's potential sexual identity crisis. "He'll be here, you giant oaf," Peter says. "Unlike some people who have the time to call and harass people on their lunch breaks, Garrett has two jobs - or three, if you count feeding me, which I think he definitely does. He does, doesn't he? Sure, he does. Obviously."

Emmett is giving him a weird look, which wouldn't be all that strange since Emmett's whole face is weird to start with, but Peter thinks that, maybe, this time he kind of earned the weird look. But it's not like he's going to let Emmett get away with it! Peter blusters some scathing remark and confuses Emmett enough that he'll leave him alone in peace so Peter can skulk away in peace. And while Peter might like to go upstairs and start research right away, he has this awful image of Masen barging in while Peter is busy and dragging him back to actual work by the ear - so. Peter will have to wait.

If he ever-so-subtly avoids interacting with Garrett directly when he stalks through the offices not thirty minutes later, well then that's Peter's business, okay?

Peter does his programming thing, working on the life interaction tree Masen is dead-set on having for the Volturi demo, and studiously avoids making eye-contact with most everyone, but especially Garrett, for the rest of the day. For once, Peter is more than happy to drown in the bucketload of work he has lined up.

He bides his time until office hours are over, makes a totally-not-flimsy-at-all excuse to the others, and jets up to his apartment. He double-locks the door and closes all his curtains, just to be safe.

And then he turns to his laptop and says, "Alright, Pete. We're doing this. We're really doing this."

Because he has to know - and he has to know for sure.

.

.

.

Peter emerges from three hours of scouring new categories on PornHub, tired and little chafed. It hadn't taken him very long at all to realize that, for as long as he has been a healthy, porn-watching, virile young man, he's been paying more attention to certain bodies than others. And by that, Peter means that his eyes have a habit of watching the meat rather than where the meat is going. No wonder he always liked bukkake! If Peter had happened to find videos that featured strapping young men with dark hair and dark stubble and intense expressions, then wow, what a coincidence. His first round of gay porn had been illuminating and overwhelming and has left him exhausted.

He is definitely not as straight as he thought. He might not even be as bisexual as he thinks, either. But whatever he is, it 100% is not heterosexual.

Peter does the bare minimum to clean up, resolves to wash his sheets in the morning, and melts into slumber. His last thought before he drops off is about how serious Garrett was, earlier.

Peter kind of hopes Garrett wasn't kidding or just flirting for the fuck of it.

Kind of hopes more than a little, actually.


A/N: This chapter was also titled "Peter's Big Gay Revelation" but I felt it didn't have enough mystery, so. Now! Everyone comes to realize their sexual orientation in different ways, because it's a unique journey for all of us regardless of orientation. For some, it happens quite early in life; for others, quite late. For Peter, I thought it would be fitting for him to figure himself out in this way, because he's the type to take a more hands-on approach to problem-solving. Literally! How did you discover yours?

Speaking of hands-on, let's talk about porn. So, while there's definitely some pornography that's problematic (the stuff on the dark web that gets people arrested), your average porn site is generally filtered for problematic content, especially non-con pornography. There's a lot of controversy around porn, such as whether watching makes you a deviant or if watching sets up unrealistic expectations for sex, or how old someone needs to be to watch/access porn. My personal belief is that there is a lot of strange red-lining about porn and that porn is a tool just like any other, which means it can be misused and abused; however, accessible sites such as PornHub (owned by Canadians) take regulation very seriously, which means any content there is more likely to be above board. Watching porn can be useful for those with intimacy issues, those who are single, those who do not want to have personal sexual relations, and those who are exploring their sexuality; porn can also be a useful tool for couples trying to regain intimacy and explore their sexual health. I've brushed over porn a few times in this story already, so by now it should become evident that most of Millennials and Gen Zs don't have the same hang-ups about pornography as other generations; younger people tend to be more open and accepting of it, along with orientation and gender. Human sexuality is not ever a source for shame (unless it is harming another person), although women, in particular, are often shamed to any interest in their own sexual expression, especially when porn is involved. To that end, bukkake is a type of sexual activity where several men ejaculate onto one (or more) people; this is found in both straight and gay porn, and it is still considered bukkake if there are only two people involved. And now you must be wondering which side Peter imagines himself on? It's up to you!

As always, be brutally honest. I can take it. Stay safe, stay smart, and stay healthy. Also, start looking into your area's voting situation. Now is the time to request absentee (mail-in) ballots and to register to vote, if you aren't registered already. Given the current state of the USPS, it's worth the effort to see if your area has any ballot drop boxes where you can just drop your ballot instead of mailing it in. About 32 states are not counting absentee ballots that are postmarked after election day, so getting your ballot in sooner rather than later is key. You can contact your county's election board for more information - it's likely a Google search away (just Google the name of your county + voting and you should pull up relevant results).

~Rae