Breakfall (32 page)

“Whatcha doin’, Sunshine?” Long arms wrapped his shoulder from behind, and he felt stretched backward just a bit, his muscles groaning with the exertions of the day.

“That feels really good.”

“What does?” A nose burrowed into his neck.

“The way you’re stretching me out.”

“I asked, whatcha doin?”

“Where should I put my stuff, Asbjorn?” Sean hated the way his voice felt small and pleading all of a sudden.

“Here.”

Asbjorn slid the closet door open and pushed his things to the side, freeing a foot of space. He tossed some unused hangers onto the bed. “Let’s see….” He stalked over to the large dresser. “Ha! Lemme give you the weapons drawer.” Asbjorn removed two winter scarves and a hat. The rest of the drawer contained wooden knives and real knives, nunchaku,
tonfa,
kama
,
sai, a long bamboo flute, weapons intended for throwing, and a sizable black box with a touchpad combination lock.

Sean’s eyes were wide with amazement. “What’s that, Bjorn?”

Asbjorn’s eyes met his with some hesitation. “That’s my gun locker. I guess, now that you live here and there’s a gun in the house, I’ll have to take you to the range and teach you the basics.”

Sean’s jaw clenched as he felt his stomach flip. He didn’t grow up in a gun-owning household. His father associated firearms with gangs, school shootings, and mall rampages.

“I don’t need to learn, I think.”

Asbjorn looked him with great care, taking in his body language. “It’s just a tool, like any other. There are safe and unsafe ways of handling one. I’m not saying you have to become a crack shot, but you’ll learn not to shoot your thumb off.”

Sean didn’t look convinced.

“Sean. It’s just a weapon. Like a baseball bat. Like a sword. Like a broomstick. It’s a machine, like a power drill or a chain saw. You have to be careful and know the rules.”

“Well, if you put it that way….”

“Careful, Sean.” Asbjorn flashed him a knowing grin. “You might grow to like it!”

Sean’s socks, underwear, and T-shirts were well settled in, and Asbjorn’s weapons were stowed into a cardboard box in the bottom of the closet. Sean was well settled in too, his head nestled in the crook of Asbjorn’s arm. His eyes closed as though a leaden weight pressed them down. His body was still recovering from the unfortunate freezing incident the night before. It had been a busy day. He felt Asbjorn’s body heat through the soft, flannel pajamas Asbjorn insisted he wear.

He called me sunshine.

He smiled at the thought as he drifted off, fanned by the wings of Hypnos.

M
OST
ROADS
were cleared of snow and classes had resumed, but Sean’s grand jury appearance was postponed till Friday. December 17 meant two more days of agonizing over how it would go. He wished he could just get it done and over with.

Everyone hustled to make up for the lost time and finish their coursework by the end of the term. Sean had only one class that day, and the rest of his work consisted of studying for exams and finishing four more lab reports. There was no reason he couldn’t do that from the comfort of their own living room, especially since there was leftover curry for lunch later on.

For now, though, he had to catch up on his phone calls home, and with the three-hour difference, he was sure to catch people in the morning.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Asbjorn walked over to the sofa and settled next to Sean, who shut down Skype and powered his laptop off.

Sean made a long face.

“Bad calls?”

“Just… feeling guilty, I guess.”

“Oh?” Asbjorn settled on the sofa next to him.

Sean’s regular calls with his father and siblings in San Diego and Burrows-sensei in the nearby suburbs were anything but simple. He hadn’t come out to them, he hadn’t mentioned the attack, and all of them wanted him to come back to California for the winter break.

“I really don’t want to go.” He shoved the laptop onto the table, rejecting it as though the device was personally responsible for his current state of mind. He leaned his head against Asbjorn’s shoulder.

“I was hoping to stay and spend Christmas with you.”

Asbjorn sighed. “We should communicate more.” He snaked his arm around Sean’s shoulders. “I have bad news, and I have good news.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Well, the bad news is I’ll be spending the winter break in Denmark, and I already have my tickets. I promised my mom I would.” Asbjorn stiffened, and his words were clipped in a way that made Sean turn and look at him. That jaw muscle was working, all right.

“So… what’s the good news?” Sean summoned all his resources to mask his disappointment. Two weeks without Asbjorn, either in Boston or in San Diego, would suck dirt.

“The good news is you could come with me. Have you ever been to Denmark before?”

Sean felt gratified to see Asbjorn’s eyes brighten, but he didn’t smile. He sighed. Then he fussed with the little rubber foot that fell off the bottom of his laptop again.

“Um, the communication part, remember?” Asbjorn said.

“Not Denmark. But I’ve been to Ireland when I was little, and if I visit my aunt in Galway, then it would be more acceptable to my family.” Sean frowned. “But I should stay here and catch the guy, Bjorn.”

“Your perp isn’t going anywhere.”

Sean thought some more. “Yeah, I guess. My grand jury testimony is tomorrow, so that will be out of the way.” He put on a brave face. “Piece of cake, right?”

“You’ll do great,” Asbjorn reassured him. “And after that, a trip to Europe!”

“The tickets are gonna be a killer. It’s almost too late.” Sean played with a pen as he avoided Asbjorn’s eyes. He was tense about his big day in court. It was hard to divert his thoughts to anything else, although he appreciated Asbjorn’s effort in this direction.

“Almost.” Asbjorn smiled. “I do this through a travel agent because I fly a good deal, and she’s a marvel with making alternate arrangements. I
can change my flight so both of us can go. She can route us through
Ireland. Or would you like to go the other way? It all depends on how much time we want to spend there.” Asbjorn’s hand slid up Sean’s chest, caressing his throat, cupping the stubborn chin and turning it to face him.

“So… you coming? Please say yes. My mother’s new family will be so much easier to take with you around.”

Sean’s head spun at the thought. “You think it’ll be okay?”

“More than okay. It’ll be fabulous.”

“I thought you and your mom didn’t get along.”

“Not since she married that asshole after my father died—but we’ll be fine.”

“Are we staying at their house?”

Asbjorn startled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s think about that. They’re in Copenhagen, so we could get a hotel easily enough—but that’s extra money.”

“We could get a hotel for just some of the time,” Sean suggested.

Asbjorn hugged him. “So you’re coming?”

“Yeah…. Let me call my aunt later so I catch her in the evening. If she says it’s okay, we can finalize the tickets.”

“She’ll be okay with us? It’s Ireland we’re talking about.” Asbjorn cleared his throat in a self-conscious kind of way.

“In her case? No problem. She’s a neo-pagan weirdo-type person—her words, not mine. And she doesn’t gossip, either.” Sean smiled as fond memories surfaced to the forefront of his mind.

“You’ll have to join me to go see Cindy at the travel agency, then. And bring your passport.”

“When?”

“Right after you call. Airfare prices change, and not for the better.”

A
N
UNEXPECTED
and highly welcome Skype call to Sean’s Auntie Iveragh in Galway allowed them to make a tentative schedule, and Sean proceeded to blow his California airfare money, along with most of his savings, on a trip to Europe. Only after their travel arrangements were finalized did Sean contact his father with the happy news.

“Son… why do you treat us like this? What would your poor mother say if she were alive?” The guilt trip came on nice and strong, as expected.

“But Mom would be thrilled if I visited Aunt Iveragh and the cousins, Dad. We got to go only once before she died.”

“You cannot impose on your aunt for two weeks, Sean.” His father’s voice grew serious with concern.

“Umm…we’ll be going to Denmark first to visit Asbjorn’s family.”

“Who’s Asbjorn?”

“My… my… my special friend.”

“Oh.
Oh
! Sean, I’m so proud of you, my son! You’ll have to bring her to San Diego come summer!”

“Dad….”

“We will tour all the sights. Being from Denmark, I bet she’s never been to California before!”

“Da—”

“Your sisters will be so excited to meet your girlfriend, Sean!”

“Dad! Dad. Listen, Dad. Asbjorn’s been to California while he was in the Navy.”

“He?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t tell with these foreign names…. So… it’s not a woman?”

“No. I wouldn’t mind if he was, but some things cannot be changed.”

“So you are….” There was a silence for a while. “So you are dating a guy? A nancy boy?”

“Dad, he’s ex-Navy and he studied karate at the old schools in Okinawa. He’s definitely not some kind of a simpering, effete wimp.”

“Karate from Okinawa….” Sean’s father sighed. “Love will not be controlled. I know that all too well. At least I can greet him in my customary manner.” His voice cheered up. “I bet your boyfriend can kick your butt, but I don’t think he can kick mine!”

“S
O
…
HOW
did it go?” Asbjorn grated a handful of parmesan and added it to the olive oil, anchovies, sundried tomatoes, onions, and garlic. He stirred the mixture, doctoring it with a judicious amount of pepper flakes.

“As well as could be expected.”

“You don’t look convinced.” Asbjorn strained the linguine, leaving them a bit wet, and dumped the long, flat noodles into the pan with the sauce. He used his newest and most favorite tool—long kitchen tongs—to toss the mixture until the noodles were slick with oil and melting cheese. “Hand me the spinach, will ya?”

Sean opened a bag of rinsed baby spinach and Asbjorn folded the ovoid, deep green leaves into the hot pasta and turned the heat off, topping the pan with a lid.

“Now the spinach’s supposed to wilt. Since we don’t have shrimp, I boiled these eggs here….” He peeled them and chopped them.

Sean watched, transfixed. “I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

“I never said that. You said that, and I won’t be shown up in my own kitchen. So, what’s the issue with your dad again?”

“He thought ‘Asbjorn’ was a girl’s name. He was so excited that I finally got a girlfriend.”

Asbjorn’s face fell. “Yeah. There might be a lot of that going on in Denmark too.”

“He’s impressed by your martial arts standing. He’ll probably try to mess around with you in some kind of a pseudo-male-bonding ritual. Just try to take it as a compliment, okay?”

F
RIDAY
ROARED
in like the Northern wind, and Sean stood strong to face it. He didn’t have a suit, and he’d been reassured that he wouldn’t need one. A clean pair of jeans and a shirt would do. Everyone knew he was a student, after all.

“You want me to come with you?” Asbjorn asked.

Sean combed his hair back in an effort to tame it. “Yes. Except you can’t. We can’t be seen together too much, not until we catch him, remember?”

He saw Asbjorn behind him in the mirror even before he felt his hands around his waist. He smiled as he let his boyfriend pull him back and hug him tight.

“Okay. You’ll have Mark with you, and the courtroom is full of cops. And you’ll be fine! You’ll do great.” He kissed Sean above his ear, messing up his hair again.

T
HE
COURTHOUSE
building was overheated and smelled of charred radiator dust and deodorant from all the people that passed through it. Sean waited for Mark to put his service weapon in a police locker before they passed through the metal detectors and walked up a marble staircase. Sean wanted to think about anything but what was coming. He noted the way the old stone of step risers was worn where people passed over it the most. How old was it, anyway? How many people had walked up and down this staircase, feeling as nervous as he did right then?

“This is your courtroom,” Mark said by his side. “This is where you’ll wait, on this bench. The bailiff will call you when your turn comes.”

Sean looked around. Old, dark wood surrounded him. Parts were carved in a way people wouldn’t bother with nowadays, and there was a quaint little window above the courtroom door.

A few minutes into his observations, the DA rushed out through the dark courtroom doors. “Ah, you’re here, Sean. Excellent.”

Sean stood up. His legs felt like Jell-O. “Hi.” He forced his voice to sound strong, like when he was teaching an aikido class. The DA gave him an approving smile.