Kent gave Cal's arm a slight nudge and when he had his attention signed 'I really appreciate you doing this with me.'

Cal gave a nod. "Of course," he responded. "That's what friends are for."

Kent gave a pleased kind of smile before the worry set in again. Kent's blood cell count was down on his last check up and his doctor had wanted him back in for more tests. They were there today to get the results. Kent's mother was out of town and the young man didn't want to bother her with what he passed off as 'routine' tests. When Cal found out the young man was going through 'something' he had volunteered to go with him, moral support and all that, and Kent had gratefully taken him up on it. No matter how long Kent had been dealing with cancer (and Cal still didn't know what type or really even how long the poor guy had been dealing with it), it was still scary; it was still his entire life in the balance.

Cal looked around the waiting room and tried not to fidget, which he knew Kent would pick up on. The other man was adept at reading body language as well; he had to be as a signer, it was an interpretive language. Cal took a breath, calming himself down again. This could so easily be an appointment for himself. Every time he went in for a check up he was nervous and half preparing for the worst. For an entire year he managed to forget his mortality, only to be reminded so sharply of it again when that annual appointment came around again. It wasn't just the cancer, but the head injury too, because then he had forgotten all about the disease and now it served as a double reminder.

Distraction, Cal decided on, was the best way to ease nerves. Trick the mind into thinking about something else. He didn't want to get into all the reasons why Kent's cell count would be down. Any reason was not going to be a positive conversation. Cal turned to his young friend, aware the old woman sitting across from them probably thought Kent was his son, which was amusing in some ways but also made Cal feel... kind of weird inside... Cal reached out to place his hand on Kent's shoulder and the young man turned his head towards Cal again, attentive. The old woman also didn't know sign language, luckily for Cal. Or at least her little 'confusion' facial expressions suggested she didn't know what their hands were discussing. Cal signed 'talk', finger-spelled Lewis and 'babies' 'how' 'made', then pointed to himself to indicate just who it was that was going to have the conversation with Lewis about how babies were made.

Kent gave Cal a bemused expression.

Cal added: 'book' 'get' and finger-spelled 'Gill'.

Kent asked: 'book?'

Cal nodded and added 'amazing'.

Kent smiled, then he shook his head while pointing to himself, then signed 'book'.

Cal agreed with him. He hadn't had a book either for the conversation. What conversation? Most of his knowledge about babies and sex had come from Thomas and friends and later, when he was older, by trial and error. Unfortunately. His mother sometimes told him a few things, but only if they were tame, like 'Mrs So-in-so is having another baby and she'll be tired' and 'babies drink milk Calvin' and 'babies come from the lady'. His father's 'sex talk' basically consisted of 'don't get anyone pregnant you scamp', which he'd received at fourteen, along with a clip around the back of the head. Not a lot of details there. How Thomas knew certain things Cal had never really figured out, but it must have been from his friends or books or TV or perhaps, magazines.

Kent asked what kind of book Gillian was getting. Cal gave a shrug and signed 'pictures'. Kent laughed and slapped a hand in Cal's direction, making him also smile; 'no way, I don't believe you'.

Distraction. Sorted.

'No seriously,' Cal added. Gillian had found a book with pictures, which she had ordered online from a reputable parenting tools and accessories site. Actually, that was really amusing, a book with pictures about how babies were made, for children, Cal could only imagine, and he laughed again. Kent grinned brightly. Cal pointed to Kent, added 'Mum', 'talk' and 'how?'

Kent shook his head with disdain, rolled his eyes heavily and sighed. He signed 'good' while shaking his head vigorously for 'not good', before explaining it was incredibly awkward for the both of them. His mother had told him when he was ten and had already pieced most things together. Kent surmised it was probably because she was hoping a guy would talk to him but no one had ever stuck around long enough to take on any fatherly responsibilities. Then Kent went on to add the puberty talk was way worse and that his mother had never dared to get back to him about sex but a box of condoms had appeared on his bathroom counter one morning when he was seventeen.

Cal thought that was sad, that the boy's mother didn't feel she could talk to her son about something that was kind of fundamental to growing up and their relationship as mother/son. But then he knew, without prying, that Kent and his mother had an emotional rollercoaster-styled relationship, compounded by cancer and coming out of the closet. It was tough for a single parent. Cal was glad he had Gillian, a partnership; their talk with Lewis wasn't exactly going to be easy and he was not looking forward to it, but then, he didn't have to do it alone. Between the two of them they should cover all the bases and share out the awkwardness, if there was any. Then there would be puberty chats and sex and then the same, all over again, with Owen.

The old woman opposite them, who Cal could feel was staring intensely while they talked with their hands only, was called to her appointment and Cal could sense Kent's energy changing back to tension. The distraction was distracted. Redirect.

"How did you know you were gay?" Cal asked conversationally.

Kent watched him for a moment, his face neutral, but Cal could see the little flicker of muscles around his mouth that said he wanted to talk about it and the tilt of his chin that said he was kind of pleased Cal had asked. He gave a shrug and signed 'knew' and 'forever'.

Cal nodded.

Kent turned in his seat and went on, his hands moving rapidly so that Cal had to focus on what he was saying. He told Cal that he knew he didn't like girls from a young age and had more of an affinity towards guys, pop-stars and actors but didn't know what being gay was. His mother never talked about it, it wasn't particularly prominent in his household and he didn't know anyone who was gay. Because he was deaf, his mother had sheltered him from a lot. He didn't go to a regular school until he reached high school age and suddenly there were other boys his age who were beautiful and some of them were 'out' and so confident, so not afraid of who they were. Kent told Cal how he idolised them but still didn't quite figure out who he was for a while. Then he decided to just go with it and ever since then he's felt a lot better about himself.

Cal waited for Kent to sit back a little, to indicate he had finished and pointed to him then signed 'story' and gave a thumbs up. Kent gave a slight smile. Cal added 'admire' and pointed to Kent again, meeting his eye and holding it so the young man would get the point. Kent's smile went a little bashful and he raised a hand to brush the comment away. Cal knocked his hand down to 'shut him up'. He made his face insistent and signed 'seriously'. He pointed to Kent again, firmly this time, and signed 'sweet', 'confident' and 'caring' and that Cal was 'proud' to call him a 'friend'.

Kent suddenly looked a bit like he might cry.

Cal nodded to make sure there was no argument. He had probably taken this conversation a bit far but... oh well... it was actually the truth. The memory of meeting Kent was a little hazy but Cal could still recall the vulnerable kid from just over two years ago compared to this endearing young man now. A lot had changed for Kent and Cal was glad he was the kind of young adult in his orbit now. He had learnt things from Kent, not just about signing, but being secure in his own sexuality, about how to be a mentor to an older boy, which he hoped would keep in him good stead when Lewis was a teenager. He wanted to guide but be a friend and Kent had allowed him to do that, to learn and practice and in return, he figured he was a bit like that father figure the kid so desperately wanted and needed.

Kent pointed to Cal this time and signed 'man' and 'good'. He added something about being like Cal when he got older and Cal told him to shut up, with a laugh, giving his shoulder a shove, like Kent had told a really good joke. Kent laughed a bit, helping Cal shake off the tension between them. Far too heavy a conversation for where they were, or really for how long they had known each other, even if they had gotten closer over the years. Close didn't mean inappropriate though, Cal had never felt he had to remind Kent that he was married or straight or anything along those lines... it really felt like a father/son kind of thing but Cal couldn't claim that could he? That wasn't right. Kent's father wasn't dead and Cal shouldn't really encroach on someone else's territory. Kent's mother might not even like it; he was only eighteen.

A nurse came to get Kent and Cal gave him a nudge to indicate it was time for him to go. Worry clouded the young man's face again and he stood. Cal grabbed his wrist and gave it a squeeze of encouragement and that was all that was needed. Kent nodded and straightened back his shoulders and left with the nurse. And Cal went back to waiting, hoping that everything was fine. A low count could merely mean Kent had not been well with some sort of infection that his body was fighting off at the time of the first test. The second one could show in reality, he was just fine. He had been in remission just as long as Cal now. Cal wanted him to be fine.

He took out his phone but there weren't any messages. He wondered if he thought about it hard enough Gillian would text him. Sometimes that worked, but only if he gave her a passing thought. After a few minutes of nothing Cal put his phone away. He could text her first, of course... but he didn't really have anything to say and there were only so many 'I love you' texts he could send before the impact of them wore off. Better to keep them random and rare; that made them more special, even if he meant it every time he thought it.

Cal thought about Lewis again and the talk they were going to have with him about babies. Gillian was pregnant and the conversation was overdue. They had been too distracted with other crap to make sure the kid had a smooth transition. Gillian had grand plans though. She loved that website of hers. It gave plenty of pointers about how to broach subjects with children. Lewis tended towards wanting all the answers even if he didn't entirely comprehend them. Cal had had to explain to him how sheep's wool became jersey's even though he was pretty sure Lewis didn't know what 'shearers' were or really understood how the wool could be cut off without butchering the animal. A haircut didn't quite explain it enough apparently. So Cal told him all of it but really, the kid was three, how much of it got through?

"Cal."

Cal turned his head, recognising the voice immediately, those slightly distorted under-formed sounds. Kent was grinning ear to ear; he was excited, ecstatic. Cal knew it was good news before Kent bothered to sign it, which he didn't. He was getting to his feet as the young man approached and without thinking put his arms around his shoulders and upper arms tightly in an embrace; he slapped his back. Kent hugged him in return and they broke apart and Cal offered him his hand with a smile. Kent gripped it expertly, still smiling widely.

'Congratulations,' Cal signed.

Kent's grin went wider.