Making out-what a delicious passtime it was for Davy and Peter. No... not a passtime exactly, but more like an frequent, obsessive adventure. They were completely hooked, and neither one was afraid to admit it to each other. New territories opened up to them daily. And it was the smallest of things that pleased them the most. Like making out.
"Unendurable days are what nights together are for," Peter would often say softly as they lay entwined together when the sun had long gone down. They worked hard with their music career. Long hours, practicing until they thought they'd drop. They were fortunate in that their greatest pleasure, music, was also their livelihood. They loved their work-not everyone could say that.
But no matter how tired they were, making out was a never-ending delight. Wherever they happened to be-on the bed, on the floor, in the shower, it made no difference. It was the most enjoyable part of lovemaking for them. An intense make out session could last for an hour or more. Oftentimes they would move to something else, such as talking or reading, then continue on later. Not a word needed to be spoken. It was all so natural. They just gravitated to each other when the time was right. The temporary restraint and resulting anticipation made the eventual lovemaking all the more explosive and sweet.
At the moment they were on Davy's bed in each other's arms, making out once again, a very passionate session going on, shirts undone, but otherwise fully clothed. They were on their sides, and there could be no mistake about what was going on. They were so intent on each other that they never heard the door open...
The sound of a throat clearing loudly right next to the bed spooked them both. Peter very nearly toppled in a sideways spin off the side of the bed. And would have if Davy hadn't already had him in a secure grip.
Davy and Peter seemed to be paralyzed. Neither one was able to move, as if in one of those dreams where one remains helplessly motionless against their will. So having no other option, they stayed just the way they were, clutching each other, ever so slowly and reluctantly lifting their eyes to see Micky...
Micky was mortified beyond belief. He always knocked. This time though, he'd been so excited about some good news he had that he'd forgotten, and barged right in.
The one and only good thing about this, thought Davy, was that they at least hadn't been on top of the covers, naked and, well... engaged in actual lovemaking. But this was plenty bad enough as it was...
As for Micky, he felt as if his legs would give out. He broke into a sweat and felt nauseated. Sure, he was aware that some guys preferred other guys, but actually witnessing it happen was totally different. Somehow it looked so... unnatural. He was pretty sure he'd be having some graphic nightmares about this. Gag, scream or run? Which urge was strongest? He didn't do any of them. Like Peter and Davy he was seemingly paralyzed.
At the same time, Micky was thinking much the same as Davy-thank god they hadn't been doing more than kissing! As it was, the sight was frightful. Micky imagined he'd be traumatized for the rest of his life. The acute embarrassment made his stomach burn, his palms were slippery, his head ached. Altogether, very much like a bad case of the flu.
Why hadn't he just turned and walked out when he'd seen them? Micky realized it must have been like the proverbial deer-caught-in the-headlights moment, and also... curiosity. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he had always wondered what it would be like to watch Davy and Peter when he heard those unearthly noises coming from upstairs. But at the same time it scared the shit out of him. He and Mike had not acknowledged even to each other what they'd been hearing for the longest time. They'd remained in semi-denial.
A big blob of warm dough on the bed-that's how Davy felt. Dead weight. He was all soft inside, moldable; he had a sensation that he wouldn't hold together- it had been caused by Peter's nearness, yet on the outside he was terrified, wooden and cold.
Except for the bulge in his pants and Peter's. Now Peter's bulge-there was NO hiding that.
He had to face it-there was no hiding anything. It was all out in the open now, regardless of how long Micky had known, but not indicated he'd known.
"God, guys." Micky let out a long-suffering sigh, his quivering hand coming up to rest on his sweat dampened forehead.
"Sorry Mick," Davy gingerly got up, afraid he'd fall over and splat on the floor much like the imaginary blob of dough he felt like. He busied himself with straightening and buttoning his shirt, tucking it back into his pants clumsily. He wasn't capable right now of being the graceful gazelle he usually was. Not under these circumstances. You seldom saw Davy at a total loss for words, but this was one of those rare moments.
When there was nothing left to do with his shirt, he walked out the bedroom door, crooking a finger in Micky's direction to indicate he wanted him to follow.
Sitting on the couch, side by side, Micky apologized, "Man... I'm sorry. Shoulda knocked. Was just... excited about the gig we wanted-so I inadvertendly walked in. We got the gig."
Davy's eyes glittered as he met Micky's eyes for the first time. This gig was, indeed, long awaited, and he feared he and Peter had ruined it for Micky. "That's great," he said. But then his gaze turned downward again.
Micky had been so elated when the phone had rung this morning, a few minutes ago, and he'd learned of them landing the gig they'd rehearsed so hard for that he felt like he'd bubble over, like a soft drink that had been shaken. This gig was important-could be pivotal to them all. It paid very well, and the place was a very nice establishment. And it might even lead to more gigs...
But Mike wasn't home, and Micky had had no one to tell, and he just knew he was going to burst if he didn't tell someone fast. That was when he'd sprinted up the stairs and without thinking, had burst into Davy and Peter's bedroom.
"You and Peter..." Micky trailed off, as if he were talking to himself, trying to process what he'd just seen firsthand. Hearing it was one thing-seeing it was a whole different animal. Seeing it made it real.
"Sorry, Mick. we just couldn't bring ourselves to tell you..." Davy's voice was uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable sounding. "I know its been obvious for a while, but we should have...said something. It was just so awkward...you know?"
Micky didn't know what to say. He didn't have a single clue. So he just sat there, dumbfounded and listless. This seemed somehow so inane to him. Davy could have just about any girl he wanted. Why another man? Why Peter?
"But girls..." Micky finally managed to squeeze out after a few minutes of silence.
"Just for show...most of the time. I come home earlier than you guys do."
That said it all. Davy preferred Peter to girls thought Micky with astonishment.
Just then Mike walked in. Micky had never been so relieved in his life. He snapped out of his nearly catatonic state long enough to deliver the good news about the gig to Michael. Micky's heart wasn't all the way in it because of his stunned state, so he wasn't as bubbly enthusiastic as he normally would have been, but Mike didn't notice because of his own overwhelming excitement over the news.
"Groovy! Man, what a break this is for us! I can really dig playin' at the Hi Brow! Its where its at! We'll actually be able to pay the rent early this month!" Mike was rattling on in his near delirium at their fortune as Micky and Davy sat there like stones, each in his own world.
"Gotta go tell Pete the news," Like a suddenly released bird, Davy fairly flew up the stairs, glad of the convenient excuse to get away from Micky.
Davy walked in the door and closed it, slipping his hands in his back pockets, an old habit. Chewing his lower lip in concentration-another old habit.
"I was afraid to come down there. What happened?"
"Good thing you didn't. Probably woulda made it even more creepy for Micky. He's weirding out bad enough as it is. It bloody floored him."
"But we know that he knew about it because of the noise."
"I know, but walking in on it must have been the worst kind of shock. A bummer, really."
Peter nodded.
"Anyway, water under the bridge. We got the gig at the Hi Brow!"
Peter leapt up off the bed and grabbed Davy's shoulders, hopping up and down with his own uninhibited brand of unbridled joy.
"Careful, Pete. They might think were 'celebrating' on the floor."
"Know what?"
"What, Pete..."
"Saturday's two days away."
Davy gifted Peter with a half smile. "I know, AND we have nothing planned, right?"
"Right," Peter's amber eyes glowed with a warmth only Davy could bring to them.
"Well, that's plenty to offset what's happened tonight."
"You betcha."
The gig went beautifully. They only messed up a couple of times, and unless you were an accomplished musician, you wouldn't have even noticed it. You would never know of the uncomfortable scene a few days before either. The band was in top shape and digging how much the audience seemed to respond to them.
Afterward the club owner had only praise for them, and asked them if they would consider signing a contract to play there every weekend for the next month. If all went as well as it did tonight, the owner had hinted at a longer contract, and from there, who knew what might happen? The sky was the limit, and all the guys felt as if their feet didn't touch the ground as they walked out of there.
Once home, they shared a group hug, and it was then that Davy knew for sure that Mike and Micky had accepted the fact that Davy and Peter were a pair. He sensed no judgement against them. Quiet acceptance. Everything was falling right into place, and best of all, no friends had been lost. They happily broke out the beer and celebrated.
Davy woke slowly, and stretched luxuriously. Then it hit him-Saturday... gingerly, his hand traveled to Peter's side of the bed, afraid to open his eyes. Had it all been a dream? That they'd gotten a contract with the Hi Brow? And, even better, was today really Saturday? And would Peter be beside him? Or would he feel only cold sheets?
As his hand found Peter's warm, tractable body, Davy let out a long, deep sigh. Peter rolled over onto his back and hugged Davy close, a cozy, sleepy, inviting smile on his lips. Oh yes... Saturday.