“Are you kidding me?” snapped Tristan. “Are you trying to talk me out of being gay? Because if you are, so help me, I will make you sorry you brought me to this restaurant by showing you just how damn gay I am.”
“Tristan, really.” Michael held his hands up. “I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought it was something to think about.”
“At fourteen I was a walking hormone,” said Tristan. “And for some reason every girl at the skate park wanted a piece of that. I liked it,
sure
, what's not to like?” A couple at a nearby table stopped their conversation to gawk at Tristan, who was turning red.
“Tristan, I'm so sorry,” said Michael, urging calm. “It's just that I don't understand you as well as I would like to.”
“It's not rocket science,” said Tristan, leaning over to speak more quietly. “I was a horny kid who took whatever was offered. But when I decided to choose, I chose
you
.” He picked up his napkin and placed it on his lap when their server brought out their drinks.
Michael was still feeling argumentative. “Not really. Actually, I kind of forced the issue, and you were backed into a corner.”
“Michael,” said Tristan, clearly holding on to his patience by a thread. “I chased your truck down my street on a skateboard. My decision was made then.
I chose you
.”
“I'm glad,” said Michael thickly. “Really, really glad.”
“Me too. Next time we have this discussion let's do it in bed, though. I think it will take more time to convince you, and it would be a hell of a lot more fun.” He smiled. The server brought them their lunch and an extra plate for sharing. They ate slowly and quietly, making quality eye contact. Michael smiled around his straw and tossed his napkin on the table when they were finished.
“You want to walk a little? I have until about three,” he said. “It's starting to get crazy; tomorrow's Halloween, we're all working, and there still won't be enough of us.”
“Oh, yeah, I love Halloween, but it must be hard on you and
the brethren
,” said Tristan. “I never thought about it that way.”
“It's just a natural law; whenever everybody parties, people do stupid stuff, get drunk, and get in accidents. Lots of DUIs. Sometimes kids get hurt. It's not very much fun for me anymore.” Michael left money on the table to cover the bill plus a generous tip, and he rose, waiting for Tristan to precede him.
“I guess,” said Tristan. “I guess you can tell I like Halloween.
“Yeah, and come to think of it, taking you out of those Samurai pants didn't suck.” Michael smiled. They walked out into the sunshine, into the warm wind that was kicking up around them. “Shit, this wind always means fire danger too.” He sighed.
“Do you think that now that I'm gay I should dress differently?” he asked, trying to distract Michael a little.
“What? Do I dress differently?”
“No, but I'm thinking you can't because you have that totally conservative job. I'm in school, you know? I could work it a little while I'm still young.” He had a teasing light in his eye that Michael found adorable. “I kind of need a queer eye for the queer guy, don't I?”
Michael looked him over and sighed. “You do fine, Sparky. You're edible as it is.”
“Oh,” said Tristan, coloring a little. “Well, now that you bring that up, Officer Truax, can you tell me how much trouble I could get in if I were to…say…suck you off in your truck?”
Michael, to his credit, kept walking. “More trouble than I'd like, Sparky. I'm not one of those guys who gets off on risky sex.” After a while he muttered, “Much.”
“Hey,” said Tristan. “I heard that.” He grinned at Michael, raising his eyebrows, and lifted his foot to tap Michael's ass from behind with the heel, like they were kids.
“I just can't, Tristan,” said Michael. “I couldn't.”
“Okay.” Tristan was only mildly disappointed. “I just thought…”
Michael smiled. “No, it's nice. Here, I wanted to give you this,” he said, holding out an envelope. He handed it to Tristan and stepped back.
“What is it?”
“It's the key to my house,” said Michael. “And the alarm codes. You could stop by sometimes. If I wasn't there, you could maybe wait.”
Tristan broke into a radiant smile. “Hey! You trust me with your beautiful house?” he asked.
“Sure. You like my house, you'll take good care of it.”
“Of course I will. This is the nicest thing.” Tristan bit his lip.
“I'm, um, usually off on Friday during the day until Saturday night. It's quiet, and you might like to do your homework there sometimes.” Michael sighed, feeling like an idiot. “Anyway, I'll get you a copy of my schedule, and you can come and go as you please, okay? I'll be working a couple double shifts in the next few weeks.”
“This is a big thing, isn't it?” said Tristan, looking at him. “It's like…we're a couple.”
“Aren't we?” Michael turned to him. “Aren't you my guy? You said you were.”
“I am,” said Tristan. “But aren't you going to want to drop-kick my ass into the gutter if I'm around too much?”
Michael laughed. “I don't think it will come to that.” He kept walking. Tristan ran forward to face him.
“You really meant it, didn't you; it wasn't just a goofy text.”
“Meant what?” said Michael quietly
“That you love me. You meant that, didn't you?”
“Yeah, did you?”
“Yes. I told my family I'd fallen in love with you. That was Saturday. Just so you know.”
“Before I told you?” Michael smiled.
“Yep,” said Tristan. They began walking again.
“Ha, ha,” said Michael in a singsong voice. “You said it first.” He chuckled to himself as Tristan followed after him.
“Also just so you know, I knew you loved me all along,” said Tristan. “And by the way, my mother says you should pay us back for that ticket now that I'm your ass slut.”
Finishing up his shift on Halloween, Michael eyed the fog rolling in and figured that while visibility wasn't good, it was plenty safe to drive. It had been a hell of a night, and he was anxious to wash his tension down the drain and sleep. He had probably made a difference in someone's life, although he wasn't exactly sure whose, and he pulled his truck into his driveway exhausted, parking it in its usual place. It had been three days since he'd given Tristan the keys, and he wondered if it was too soon for a key exchange. Maybe Tristan didn't want to use them; maybe he wasn't ready. It made Michael a little sad, but he figured he'd wait until Tristan decided to talk to him about it.
As soon as he walked in the door he noticed that the alarm wasn't on, and he could smell a fire going. He smiled. He hoped it wasn't a burglar, because he didn't have his weapon drawn as he walked into the living room. Tristan had a candle going that smelled just like a pumpkin pie and was asleep on the futon in front of the fire.
Michael leaned over him, trying to decide whether he should shower first or wake Tristan and see if he'd like to take a bath. He stroked along the side of Tristan's face with a finger. “Hey, Sparky.”
“Hey,” said Tristan sleepily, his face coming up from the pillow with little sheet wrinkles on it. “It's about time you got home.”
“Miss me?” Michael asked, content to gaze at him.
“Yes.” Tristan sat up. He took a long, hard look at Michael, concern in his eyes. “Bad night?”
“Kind of,” said Michael. “No fatalities, thank God. A kid was hit by a car while crossing the street. That one was touch and go. I think he'll make it. I hope he will. It was a mess.” He could still hear the kid's mother screaming.
“Oh, baby,” said Tristan, reaching out. He held Michael, running his hands in his hair. “What can I do?”
“You're doing it. I've never been happier to see anyone in my life.” He sighed. “Take a bath with me?”
“Sure.” Tristan got up from the futon and followed him. “I parked down the street. I was trying to surprise you.” He blew out the candle on the way to the bath.
Michael smiled. “I'm glad, except you have to watch out when you surprise police officers, Sparky. I saw the alarm was turned off and guessed it was you, but I didn't see your car. I could have come in here with my weapon drawn.”
“Not a good beginning,” agreed Tristan. “Note to self: Never surprise an armed man.”
Michael turned on the water and added something that smelled like herbs. “I'm going to go put my stuff away,” he said, leaving the bathroom for a minute.
Michael left Tristan where he was, enjoying the sound of his boy humming from the other room while he put his weapon away. When he re-entered the steamy room, Tristan had the candles lit and was just slipping into the tub.
“Now that's therapy.” Tristan had put his hair up in a rubber band and for some reason, it appealed to Michael that way. Parts of it floated around his face like feathers.
“What are you looking at?” teased Tristan.
“I can't figure out…” began Michael. “No, it's nothing.”
“What? You can't just say something like that and leave it hanging,” said Tristan, as Michael got in behind him. He laid his head on Michael's shoulder.
“I was just thinking that you set a standard for masculine beauty.”
“Wow,” said Tristan, going still.
“But it's weird, because you do all these things”—he flipped Tristan's ponytail—“that I think of as feminine. It's not something I've ever gone for before.”
“Really? What's your usual type?”
“I don't know that I've had a particular type,” Michael said, but knew he was lying even as he said it.
Biker
wasn't his type actually, but it seemed to typify the men he'd dated. He was positive they mostly chose him and not the other way around. Plus there was that whole proximity thing. He biked with his mom on his time off, and that's where he met guys.