Summary: How will the after-effects of the Babylon bombing affect Michael and Ben's life?
Rating: NC-17
Archived: 08/31/05 - 10/17/05
He'd been in the hospital for nine days now. Everyone had been saying that, considering his injuries and the operation, he was doing very well, but these last two nights had been endless. He'd begun to think he might never leave the hospital; the smells, the constant light, the loneliness when he'd wake in the wee hours and ache for Ben to be there holding him.
Once he was clear headed enough to think straight, Michael had insisted that Ben stop staying overnight in the reclining chair in his hospital room, and sleep at home where he could get a good, sound sleep.
Michael knew, from his own experience with Ben being in the hospital, how stressful running back and forth from home to hospital to job was. He knew that Ben was not going to the gym for his regular work-outs and not taking the time to fix the nutritious meals that he needed.
Though Ben was now sleeping in their own bed, he continued to stay with Michael each evening, until he fell asleep. This was nice, but then Ben would still have to prepare his lectures while trying to keep some semblance of normalcy at home for Hunter. Michael worried that Ben would get rundown and catch something that he couldn't throw off. "That's all we need," Michael fretted to his mother, Deb, when she was visiting. "We'll both end up in here."
To help get Ben home at a decent hour, Michael had begun to try to fall asleep by 9:00 or 9:30 each night, so Ben could make it to bed by midnight. But the trouble with that was that when the night nurse came in, sometime around two a.m., to check on Michael, he couldn't get back to sleep, and lay there thinking about all that had happened and might still happen.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Yup, right on schedule; 2:30 and he was wide awake. The I.V. had finally been removed from his arm since he was now able to drink plenty of liquids and keep solid food down. The pain meds had made him nauseous, so he was trying not to take them. But now his bruised body ached and his incision pulled and throbbed when he tried to change positions. The hospital bed was uncomfortable. And though everyone avoided talking about it in front of him, it was never far from his mind that someone had planted a bomb at Babylon, killing four people and injuring many others, including him.
How could people hate that much? Whoever did it probably didn't know any of them, didn't know that he had children, a loving partner, a job, a mortgage, hopes and plans for the future that weren't very different than most 'straight' couples had. Would his life ever be normal again?
Lying there alone, in pain, he let the angry tears come for those who had died, for everyone he loved, and for himself. After a while, Michael drifted off into a fitful sleep.
"Good morning, Michael." Sheri, the morning nurse, smiled as she brought in the breakfast tray. "How'd you sleep last night?"
"Fine," Michael lied, grimacing as he unsuccessfully tried to stretch his body without pulling his stitches too hard. "After breakfast, do you think I could wash myself in the shower, now that the I.V. is out?" He'd had nothing but bed baths since he'd been hurt, and Michael hadn't felt clean, since that night at Babylon. He knew he still had dried blood and soot in his hair and was sure he sometimes still smelled smoke on himself, though Ben and his mom denied it.
Sheri nodded. "Sure thing, Michael. We'll just have to cover your incision with protection and have you sit on the shower stool. Your aide will stand by to help out, in case you get too tired, but I'm glad you're feeling up to it."
Michael wasn't too keen on having an audience at his bath, but he understood the caution behind it.
"Morning, Sheri." Ben greeted the nurse, arriving just as she bustled out of the room. "Hey, babe," Ben breathed in Michael's ear, kissing him as he set down the cup of 'good coffee' and a warm croissant he'd gotten in the habit of getting for Michael each morning.
Michael swung his legs out of the bed and gingerly stood up to move over to the chair for breakfast. He stepped into the slippers next to his bed as Ben stood by, ready to help steady him, should he need it. "How long do you have before your first class?" Michael asked as he settled himself in the chair.
Ben sat on the bed and checked his watch. "I have to leave here in about forty-five minutes."
"How'd you like to be my 'spotter' for my first shower?" Michael gave Ben a crooked smile, a little embarrassed to be making the request, but vastly preferring Ben's watchful eyes to the nurse's aide.
"Sounds good! Eat your breakfast and let's get to it" said Ben, glad that he could finally be of some real use in Michael's recovery.
"Just press the call button next to the toilet, if you need me for anything," the aide said as he left Michael and Ben in the bathroom. Michael was brushing his teeth as Ben closed the door, noting that there was no lock on it--probably a safety precaution.
Michael was wearing loose fitting sweat pants and a white t-shirt, the outfit he'd adopted as soon as he'd gotten all of the needles and tubes out of his body. Ben stood behind Michael, putting his arms around his waist, stepping in close to kiss his neck. Meeting Michael's gaze in the mirror, Ben noticed the faded bruising around the eyes and the new pink skin forming under the few small scabs that remained on his chin and cheek. Ben smiled, not wanting to make Michael feel self conscious and said, "This was a great idea."
Michael smiled back at him and began to blush. "I just wanted to get clean, but now I'm seeing the other possibilities..."
Ben went to the shower and turned on the spray, waiting for it to come up to a comfortable temperature. Michael pulled the t-shirt over his head, moving slowly so as not to jar his sore muscles. He shucked off his sweats.
Ben turned, to see his lover naked for the first time since that horrible night. He gasped at the cuts and bruises on both Michael's legs and torso. The bruise on his right hip was dark and deep purple. The incision site where the doctors had removed Michael's spleen was covered with both a white square bandage and a plastic temporary one for the shower. The white bandage was stained with the seepage of dried blood. Ben's eyes teared up as he realized how battered this small body must have been in the blast that almost took Michael from him and how lucky they all were that Michael had survived.
"Geez," Michael breathed, also seeing himself fully for the first time. "I look like I've really been through it."
"Oh Michael, baby. I had no idea..." Ben swallowed around the lump in his throat.
Michael noticed the shock in Ben's eyes and turned to reassure him. "They look worse than they feel, Ben, honest. I'm better every day." Wanting to lighten the mood and get Ben's mind on something else, Michael started to undo the buttons of Ben's shirt, "Maybe you should take off your shirt too, so you don't get it wet."
Ben smiled and took over the task of taking off his shirt. Hanging it on a hook behind the door, he took Michael in a gentle embrace. He could feel that Michael had lost weight. It didn't surprise Ben that he was that tuned in to how his lover felt in his arms. Still, it felt so good to feel skin on skin. Michael ran his hands over Ben's broad back and rubbed up over Ben's muscled arms and shoulders. Ben kissed and lightly sucked Michael's neck as his hands caressed his firm buttocks. Ben had been thinking it would be forever until he could touch Michael again, yet here he was holding him naked and alone at last! But it was as caregiver, not a lover, that this opportunity presented itself. They both moaned and Ben whispered, "We don't have a lot of time here, baby, and we shouldn't start something we can't finish."
Michael pulled Ben into a deep kiss, then smiled up at him, saying, "I just needed to know that all my parts are still working."
"Oh, they seem to be working all right." Ben grinned, grinding his hips into Michael's semi-erection. "Now, let's get you cleaned up," Ben said, reluctantly pulling away and turning Michael toward the waiting shower. Michael stepped into the large walk-in shower stall and carefully sprayed himself with the hot water, trying to avoid drenching his bandages. "You okay standing for a while or do you want to sit?" Ben asked as he soaped up a washcloth.
"I'm fine standing," began Michael. He reached for the washcloth, but Ben held it away.
"Uh, uh, I get to do this. You just close your eyes and enjoy." Ben began to wash Michael's back with long, firm, slow strokes, gliding down over his butt and continuing all the way down his thigh. Michael braced himself with his hands on the shower wall. God, it felt... so... good. Michael kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the wet, warm slippery feeling of Ben's large hands rubbing and caressing his back, arms, neck, and chest. Ben rinsed the cloth and soaped it again to do Michael's legs and feet, trying to keep his touch firm and not ticklish. He made sure to spray the hot water periodically over Michael so he didn't get chilled.
Handing Michael the spray handle, Ben said, "Wash your hair while I take off my pants. I'm getting soaked!"
Michael soaped up his hair, careful not to scrub too hard near the cuts on his scalp that were still healing. Suddenly he felt warm slippery hands soaping up his balls and cock. He still had shampoo in his hair so he just stood and let Ben have his way with him.
"Rinse your hair," Ben said in a husky voice. Michael gave himself another good dowsing in the hot water, then let Ben take the shower spray from him, hanging it turned to the wall, but still on.
Ben put a towel around Michael's shoulders. "Are you okay standing for a little longer?" Ben asked.
"Mmm..." Michael murmured, still tingling from Ben's ministrations.
Ben, now clad in only his black briefs, took a second towel and folded it, laying it on the floor, in front of the shower stall.
Michael was still standing in the shower away from the water, slowly drying himself off, staring at the gorgeous body he hadn't been able to touch in way too long.
Ben leaned in, pulling Michael close, and gave him a slow, open-eyed kiss. "I want to do one more thing for you, if you feel up to it," he said, sinking to his knees, on to the folded towel.
Michael's breath hitched and his lips parted as he gazed down at the beautiful man at his feet. The depth of feeling in Ben's blue eyes as he looked up at him left Michael speechless. Ben rubbed his hands up the back of Michael's legs and thighs, as he slowly kissed the tender skin at the top of the thigh and nuzzled his pubic hair.
Michael could only brace himself on Ben's strong shoulders and nod his assent as Ben began to lick and taste him. He'd been aching for this. With one hand, Ben stroked and molded his ass while the other fondled Michael's scrotum. Michael took a wider stance as Ben tongued Michael's hard, springy, cock deep into his mouth. Ben moaned his passion, sending hot vibrations into Michaels gut, then pulled back to suck and stroke the sensitive head with his tongue. Michael's eyes closed and his head arched back as he struggled to handle his buzzing nerves. His stomach muscles tightened and he lifted one foot to rest on the lip of the shower stall to ease the pull of the stitches in his lower abdomen. He felt that everything was moving in slow motion. Ben's moans and wet tongue pulled and sucked at his pulsing cock and Michael felt rather than heard his own groans roll from his throat. Michael's hips rocked back and forth, in rhythm to his moans, and he squeezed his eyes shut, to concentrate on the explosion that was building inside of him. He held on, as Ben expertly teased wave after wave of sensation through his spine and abdomen. Oh God, his muscles strained as his orgasm built.
Michael's legs were shaking and Ben stepped up his pace, now aware that he might be pushing Michael beyond his endurance. Oh Michael, come for me, baby. Ben concentrated his thoughts into helping his lover to peak.
Michael shifted his hands to Ben's head, thrusting his hips forward, again and again, as a crashing orgasm buckled his knees, shooting his warm jizz into Ben's throat. Ben swallowed and held on, keeping him from falling.
Michael leaned against the side of the shower as Ben stood and gathered him into his arms. Ben was shaking now, too, concerned that he might have hurt Michael, who was moaning and practically dead weight, against him. "Oh, Michael, I'm sorry. Shhhh, baby, you're all right. I've got you. I've got you," Ben murmured over and over as they gently swayed together. As soon as Michael's legs began to support him again, Ben suggested, "Let's get your shirt and sweats on you before you get cold."
Michael just nodded and smiled weakly. "Oh my God, Ben. That was amazing, but... it just... wiped me out."
As Ben turned off the shower, a knock sounded at the door. It was nurse Sheri. "Everything all right in there? I've got your bed all made up, Michael. Um, I think you've had enough excitement for this morning."
Michael made a 'holy shit' face and mouthed "Was I very loud?"
Ben just rolled his eyes and grabbed his pants off of the floor. Michael had the kind of voice that carried. His vocalizations during their love making were hot, a huge turn on for Ben and occasionally got them both laughing in the middle of particularly great orgasms. "Yeah, we'll be right out. We're, uh, he's just getting dressed." Ben helped Michael with his pants and let him handle the t-shirt as he hurried to put his own clothes on.
Michael was muttering, "How could she hear anything? The shower was on and the door was closed."
Opening the bathroom door, Ben saw that Deb was sitting across the room in the recliner, waiting for them. With a knowing grin on her face she pumped her fist in the air and announced, to no one in particular, "It definitely sounds like all of his parts are working!"
Ben pulled into the driveway that night and smiled as he imagined the lecture Michael would be launching into if he was here with him right now. Does He Have to Leave Every Light in the House On?!
This was Hunter's MO. Every evening after his visit with Michael, he would pedal home and turn most of the house lights on. Maybe he had always done this, even when they all lived in that tiny apartment, but in such a small space, it hadn't been so obvious.
As far as Ben was concerned, he and Michael could only imagine the true nature of the lonely, dark, nights that Hunter had suffered through in his young life. Now that he was back with them, if having lots of light in the house made him feel better, safer, then let them shine.
"Hey, pal! I'm home," Ben announced, stuffing his gloves in his pocket and hanging his scarf and coat in the hall closet. Ben heard Hunter's voice drift up from the open basement door in the kitchen.
"Hi. I'm downstairs putting stuff in the dryer." Seconds later, he came tromping up the stairs, making a grossed out face. "Whew, dude! How long ago did you wash that last load? When I opened the washer, the smell practically knocked me down!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess it was a few days ago. I forgot to dry them. Sorry. Did you have to rewash everything?" Ben asked, feeling embarrassed. There had been so much going on, he'd let the laundry pile up. That afternoon, Hunter had mentioned that he'd run out of clean underwear so Ben had suggested that he wash a load.
Ben looked around him and realized he hadn't done much of anything but throw hurried meals together and sleep in the house, since Michael was hurt. Now, after being neglected for the better part of two weeks, it was looking pretty trashed. Hunter seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"I'll be so glad when Michael gets home. Just a few more days the doctor said, right? Michael's no clean freak but he'll do his 'White Tornado' thing, and whip this place into shape." Hunter grinned as he scanned the littered rooms and thought how much more alive the house seemed when Michael was there.
"Yee...ah, but Hunter, he's not going to be able to run up and down the stairs, lugging the vacuum, laundry baskets, and picking up our crap." Ben frowned. "And you know that's just what he'll try to do if he comes home to this mess. We need to clean this place up before he gets here." With a slightly revolted look, Ben picked up a blackened banana peel from the counter, pinched it between his thumb and index finger, and went to drop it in the compost container under the sink. "It's too late tonight, but tomorrow's Saturday. We'll get up early, double team it, and spend the morning getting the house straightened out."
Hunter nodded without much enthusiasm. Then he had a thought. His shift tomorrow at the diner didn't start until noon and he knew if he called Debbie and told her that they were cleaning up the house for Michael, she'd come over and help. Maybe bring something good to eat too! She was probably pulling the late shift at the diner, right now. She liked working Friday nights. That's when all the freaks came in. He'd call her right away, so she'd have plenty of time to plan for the food.
A man with a mission, he headed upstairs for the night. Halfway up, he remembered one other thing that he had wanted to tell Ben. "I don't mind washing our clothes, skivvies and all, but there's something downstairs I am not touching. It's a bag of really disgusting rags or something. What'd you do, kill somebody?"
For a moment, Ben didn't know what he was talking about. Then, suddenly feeling a little sick, he mumbled, "Oh yeah. I'll take care of that. Goodnight, pal."
Hunter shrugged and continued up the stairs, saying, "G'night, Ben."
Ben glanced at his watch. 10:40. Michael had been asleep for over an hour now. Ben was glad that Michael was getting so much rest; goodness knows his body needed it after all he'd been through. But Ben wasn't sleeping well without Michael and he knew he'd just lay there lonely if he went upstairs now.
Going over to make sure that the back door was locked for the night, Ben saw that Hunter had left the basement light on. No surprises there. As he reached to flip it off, he remembered the 'baggage' that he'd managed to forget about, waiting downstairs for him.
Ben sat at the bottom of the steps and emptied the plastic bag. He didn't know why he'd declined the hospital's offer to dispose of these things. There was a shredded pair of stiff, brown cords and the filthy remains of an olive green shirt with large, crusted, dark patches covering much of it. It was blood; Michael's blood. Michael had been wearing these things when Ben had found him that night at Babylon.
Ben had dropped to the floor instinctively when the blast occurred. He had never questioned what it was. 'It sounded like a bomb went off' as the saying goes and, yes, it had sounded like that. The lights flickered and went out. People screamed and then there seemed to be a few seconds of total silence, but in retrospect, Ben knew that couldn't have been true.
He stood up, paused to get his bearings and, heedless of whether it was safe to go there or not, headed toward the bar. That's where Michael had gone and Ben needed to find him. The smoke was thicker over there and bodies rushing to get out jostled him, but he hardly noticed.
The yelling and screaming had started up again, this time with painful urgency. He listened for the timbre of the voice he knew, the voice he loved. He wondered briefly if he'd recognize it if it were screaming?
Much of the bar was gone. Splintered wood and twisted metal stuck out at crazy angles. An emergency generator must have come on because there were dim lights, just enough to make out shapes in the dust and smoke. At his feet, a dark, wet, woman's shoe, broken glass, bits of material and a hand, no... oh God..., chunks of... something. Ben swallowed his panic, scanning the human shapes moving around him.
He wiped sweat and grit out of his eyes. To the left of where the bar had been, he spied a slightly familiar form crumpled against a partial wall. Dread gripped him as Ben walked slowly toward it. It coughed and the head came up. The face was blackened and Ben almost laughed, but it came out like a sob instead. The whites of Michael's eyes were shining in his dark face. Ben knelt down and took Michael's hand. There was blood coming from his nose and quite a bit from a cut at his hairline.
"I knew... you'd... find me," he panted. "Ben... you're okay?"
"Don't talk, Michael. I'm going to get you out of here."
Michael's eyes closed with the effort to try to sit up straighter, but then he hissed with pain, clutching his side. "I can't..." More panting, shallow breathing.
"I'll carry you, babe."
"I'm hurt."
Ben looked around frantically. He heard the sirens. Where the fuck were the medical people? Then Michael removed his hand from his side and held it up between them. Both he and Ben stared at it as it started shaking. Michael's hand was covered with dark, blood. Looking down at Michael's side, Ben saw the stain had started to slowly pool on the floor.
"Oh, God." Ben tried to steady his voice. "I'm getting some help, Michael. I'll be right back."
Michael's whole body was starting to shake violently. "No, Ben," he said, panting, whispering, pleading, "don't... leave me."
That was it, the scene Ben replayed in his mind at night, alone in their bed.
He'd left Michael.
He'd run and grabbed the first man with a white coat and stretcher that he saw, literally dragging him away from some other injured person, back to Michael. Only later did he even wonder if that other person had made it. That night, nothing, no one could have stopped him from getting the medic to Michael. But when they got back, the shaking had ceased. Michael's eyes were closed.
No lights shining.
Ben sat in the basement and wept. The rest of that horrible night played in his mind, in black and white images, like a silent film--black blood, white lights, silent Michael.
The medics insisted that Ben move back, out of the way so they could work quickly. They cut Michael's shirt off of him and taped his side together to stem the bleeding. Ben had picked up the discarded shirt and bunched it in his hands. It was still warm and wet.
It must have been at the hospital that they'd given him the bag with the rest of the clothes. There had also been a smaller bag containing Michael's wallet and wedding ring.
Night had turned to morning, morning to afternoon before the doctor finally returned and said what Ben had been aching to hear.
"I think he's going to be fine."
His tears spent, Ben stood up, taking a couple of deep, ragged breaths. He dragged his bare hands down his streaming face and looked around for something to wipe them on. Grabbing a towel out of a basket of dirty clothes jogged another memory.
"That's my 'cum towel,'" Brian had said, handing Ben a rag to wipe his bloody hands after hustling him away from the vigil.
The vigil. Ben could feel anger surface as he remembered those fucking sign holders and that big-mouth... "Your son should have died!"
Ben knew, even then, that he shouldn't have been there, operating on adrenaline and hardly any sleep. He was so out of it. All he remembered was hearing Michael's name. Looking up, he was surprised to see Debbie at the microphone, talking about Michael and the others who had been injured. Suddenly, a man's voice cut her off.
"Your son should have died! Your son should burn in hell!"
The next thing Ben knew, Carl Horvath, Drew Boyd and Brian, were dragging him away from the guy.
In Brian's Corvette, shaking and stunned, Ben looked at his bloody hands, moaning, "Oh God, what did I just do?"
Brian smirked. "The best Incredible Hulk imitation I've ever seen." Then he added, "If you hadn't, I would have."
That's when he handed Ben the 'cum towel' to wipe his hands off. He would always be grateful for the way Brian had handled the situation--staying low key and using his own sarcastic brand of humor to defuse the horror that Ben felt at what he'd done.
To this day, Ben had no idea what the man had looked like, before or after Ben was finished with him. Though he was ashamed to admit it, punching that guy out had been a huge release for him. Damn, it had felt good to Hurt. Them. Back.
Shit, Rage had nothing on him! He hardly recognized himself. It shook him up to realize the torrent of feelings that simmered just below the surface. He had always been able to write his feelings out. But so far, the muse had not stirred in him. Maybe when Michael got home, and things were more normal...
Ben thought of Michael, all banged up, tubes up his nose and medications making him sick to his stomach. For those first few days, he'd looked pretty awful and mostly just dozed in and out, speaking very little.
As he got stronger, he'd asked about Jenny Rebecca, Hunter, how to get his store opened again, and the general stuff of their lives--everything but details of that night. Michael didn't seem to remember anything of that night at Babylon and he didn't seem to want to talk about it.
Ben, wanting to protect him from any more upset, had gone so far as to ask Deb and the others not to bring it up, unless Michael asked. Ben was sure that eventually Michael would ask.
He looked at his watch. He certainly was finding it a challenge to live in the now, to stay in the moment. He'd been down in the basement for over an hour! It was time to exorcize some demons of his own.
Ben stuffed the ruined clothes back into the bag and carried the whole mess out to the back yard burn barrel. He got the lawnmower gas can out of the garage and, after dumping the bag's contents in, splashed a little gasoline over the rags. Behind him, a car door slammed.
"Hey, Doctor Banner, isn't it a little late to be doing yard work?" Brian sauntered into the back yard.
"Just getting rid of some trash, Brian." Ben shook his head. Brian was like a dog with a bone. Now that he had the Hulk thing to tease Ben with, he wouldn't let it go. Ben felt incredibly tired and wasn't sure he was up to dealing with Brian's shit tonight. "It's almost midnight. What brings you here at this time on a Friday?"
"I was just passing through and noticed all of your lights on."
Ben let that one go, knowing full well that this was not a neighborhood Brian would ever be passing through, at midnight or any other time.
"I also wanted to drop this off to you." Brian held out a familiar, brown leather jacket. "All of the coats that were in the coat-check that night were mainly just smoke damaged. A little dry-cleaning and it's as good as new." Brian paused, looking up at the stars. "I helped him pick it out. It's a nice jacket and I thought Mikey might want it back."
Ben nodded, but didn't take the jacket. "He'll be home in a few days. Why don't you keep it and bring it to him yourself?"
"Last time we spoke, Mrs. Bruckner seemed to feel that we didn't need to be friends anymore. He said we don't have anything in common."
"Brian, you know Michael better than anyone. He was just upset. You two have your whole lives in common." Ben paused. "He's going to need you after all that's happened."
Standing side by side in the dark, Ben wondered if maybe Michael would find it easier to talk to Brian about that night, since Brian hadn't been inside Babylon until after the bomb exploded. Maybe Michael was protecting Ben, just as Ben was protecting him. To be honest, Ben hadn't wanted to talk about it either. But he was beginning to feel differently.
"Got a match?"
Brian fished a small box of stick matches out of his pocket. Ben lit one and dropped it into the trash barrel. The flame shot up briefly, illuminating a circle of light around them. "Thanks, Brian." Motioning Brian to follow him, Ben turned and walked toward the house. "How about a nightcap?"
Ben opened the small jar of thick, brown stuff and held it under Michael's nose, to take a sniff. Making a face, Michael looked perplexed and a little revolted.
"It smells nasty. Do I have to eat it?"
"No. You rub it on your scars, but only when they're completely healed. That's important." Giving the stuff a sniff himself, Ben replaced the top and set the jar on their bedroom dresser. Chuckling, he agreed, "It is a little strong, but I've seen the results and the scars really do fade better and faster if you use it."
Ben's work day ended early on Fridays so he had made a detour to his Chinese herbalist and come home with all sorts of mixtures for Michael.
Michael was lying on the bed, under the bedspread, having just woken from a mid-afternoon nap. "I can just see it," he said, yawning as he stretched himself carefully. "I'll have a pack of drooling dogs following me around if I spread that on myself."
"Well then, I know you'll be excited to hear that I also got some more immune boosting herbs. I'll brew us some tea later," Ben said, flashing him a big smile as Michael made another face. He knew the stuff tasted pretty awful, but he was sure of its benefits, too.
Michael had been home from the hospital for three days, his stamina slowly returning. But it seemed that he 'hit the wall' each afternoon, around two o'clock, and had to lay down for at least an hour.
Ben dropped his backpack by the chair and asked, "How are you feeling?"
Michael patted the bed, indicating that Ben should join him. "Come here and find out for yourself."
"Is Hunter working?" Ben asked, closing the door.
"Until eight o'clock tonight. He said he'll call us for a ride home."
"Alone at last! Move over." Ben grinned as he quickly shucked off his shirt, jeans and socks and, wearing just his underwear, slid in next to Michael.
"Hmmm, I missed you," Michael murmured, snuggling in close for a full body press as Ben's strong arms wrapped around him. "You know, I knew that I wasn't supposed to eat that stuff."
"I knew you knew."
"Have I thanked you lately for taking such good care of me?"
"I think you have, but it bears repeating."
Michael's tongue teased and sucked, first Ben's bottom lip, then the top. Ben gave himself up to those lips. He'd never enjoyed 'necking' before he'd met Michael. But then he'd never had a partner who could kiss like Michael. Now he'd find himself daydreaming about it. They'd been doing lots of kissing, since Michael had come home.
Touching, rubbing, licking, teasing, tasting, and sucking--this had been about all they could do since Michael's return. Normally very limber, he was still too tender, inside and out, to bear Ben's weight on top of him and too sore to perform the stretching and contortions he normally would have to be penetrated from the front or back. While neither one of them was complaining, Ben knew that his true 'bottom boy' craved the closeness of complete connection. Ben missed that too.
Finally, parting to breathe, they smiled as they gazed into each other's eyes.
"Why don't we take off those sweats," Ben suggested.
Ben had already learned that in their queen sized bed, with no handrails to pull on, it was a struggle for Michael to come to a sitting position. His stomach muscles had been cut during surgery and it would take some time for them to heal and get strong again. Michael rolled onto his back and lifted his butt so Ben could push the sweatpants, underwear and all, down his legs. Getting on all fours, Ben pulled the pant legs off of his feet and dropped them on the floor.
Positioning himself over Michael's torso and keeping his weight on his arms, Ben began to place light kisses all over Michael--his belly, sides, inner thighs, and a lingering one on his semi-erect penis. He smelled of almond soap, fresh and clean.
Michael combed his fingers through Ben's hair and massaged his scalp and shoulders, pressing and kneading all the exposed flesh he could reach as he lay there enjoying Ben's attentions.
Working his way back up to Michael's lips, Ben settled back on his knees and gave him a self-satisfied look.
"What?" asked Michael, sensing that Ben had something to say.
"I made one other stop on my way home," said Ben, climbing off the bed and padding over to his backpack. "Did you know there's an adult shop next door to the herbalists?"
Michael's brow wrinkled as he asked, "What did you do?"
"I got this." Ben held up a shrink wrapped, bright blue dildo.
Michael just snorted, looking incredulous.
"It's a much more reasonable size than Gargantua," Ben said, heading for the bathroom and starting to unwrap it. "Just a minute, babe. I'll be right back."
Michael remembered that he had given the name 'Gargantua' to this ridiculously over-sized, two-headed dildo that Ted had given him at their white elephant exchange, a couple of Christmases ago. There had been a lot of laughter and uncomfortable innuendo at his and Ben's expense. When they got home, he'd thrown it out.
As Ben headed to wash up, he thought about his reluctant lover. From what Michael had told him, most of his sexual experience had been with virtual strangers in the backroom of Babylon, with a few multi-night stands thrown in over the years. David had been his one long-term relationship and it seemed that nothing too out of the ordinary had gone on there.
So, it wasn't surprising that Michael was uncomfortable with the more adventurous of possible sexual experience. In fact, Ben admitted to himself, Michael was all the more precious to him, knowing that Ben was 'his first' with these experiences. He was honored that Michael felt so committed to and safe with him. Because of this, Michael had been willing, with some convincing, to try different things.
Ben went back to their bedroom with the dildo washed and lying on a towel. Michael was still in bed. That was a good sign. He set the dildo next to the lube and condoms on the night stand, slipped out of his underwear and got back into bed, sidling up close to Michael.
"Uh uh, no..." Michael was shaking his head. His arms came up and crossed over his chest in that familiar pose that Ben knew so well.
Ben had expected this. He could appreciate how vulnerable Michael might feel at the idea of using a dildo during their lovemaking, especially with his limited mobility.
Ben ran his hand through Michael's hair and nibbled at the 'hot spot' near his ear.
"Stop," Michael said, but not very convincingly.
"Let me do this for you, baby. I'll go slow and talk you through it." Ben's voice was low and persuasive as he planted little kisses all around Michael's face. With a firm, gentle touch, he began to run his hand, palm down, over Michael's chest, trailing fingers down to his abdomen then back up to trace circles around his nipples. Michael closed his eyes and Ben took the opportunity to lightly suck a nipple, using his tongue, then his teeth to tease it to hardness, before repeating his actions on the other nipple.
He began to speak in Michael's ear again. "You'll know everything I'm doing and I'll stop if you want me to." His fingers gently kneaded Michael's thigh, caressing back and forth over the soft skin where the hip joined the pelvis.
"I think you'll enjoy it and I know I will."
"This is so not fair." Michael groaned, seeking Ben's mouth in a hungry kiss.
"Mmmm, I know." Ben hummed in his throat, now knowing that he'd won Michael over. "Trust me."
"I do," Michael said softly, seeing emotion darkening Ben's blue eyes.
Ben whispered, "I love you, Michael."
Rising to his knees, Ben took a pillow and put it under Michael's hips to make him more comfortable and to allow Ben better access for what was to follow. He bent and began to lick and suck his way down Michael's abdomen.
Against his cheek, he could feel the heat coming off Michael's erection. Breathing warm moist air over the head of Michael's now fully erect cock, Ben licked the slit with the tip of his tongue, leaving it wet.
Michael rubbed Ben's head and shoulders as he began to move his hips, slightly tilting them forward and arching back, trying to get more of Ben's attention on his cock.
Instead, Ben gently cupped Michael's scrotum in his hand and began licking and sucking.
Looking up, Ben saw Michael watching him with half lidded eyes. He was panting and little sounds of pleasure and passion were catching in his throat.
"Bring your knees up, babe," Ben instructed.
Placing the dildo near Michael's thigh, Ben slicked it and his fingers with lube. Michael moved his legs wider apart as Ben slid two fingers into his crack and began rubbing in a circular motion over the sensitive area. All the while, he continued to kiss and suck the area around Michael's groin, but avoided touching his cock again.
With increasing pressure, he pushed his fingers in and waited for Michael's response. When Michael's hips began their slow pulse again, Ben pulled his fingers out and pushed the tip of the dildo in. He rotated it slowly, adding slight pressure, rotating it in further, slowly, stopping after each push, to let Michael's muscles relax.
Ben climbed back up to lay down next to Michael so he could watch his lover's face while still slowly pumping the dildo in and out, always adding pressure so it slid in a little more each time.
"Open your eyes, Michael."
Michael's eyes fluttered open--dark, unfocused, lust-filled eyes. Ben pushed the dildo in, angling it slightly to stroke the spot that would drive Michael crazy.
Michael gasped, then groaned, "Oh, that's it, that's it. Don't stop. Touch me."
"Wait...wait." Ben's voice was low and soothing. "Does that feel good, baby?" As he spoke, he kept working the dildo with long, slow strokes, in and out.
Michael moaned his response and Ben felt his own cock jerk and throb. He increased the momentum of the dildo.
"Oh, Michael, you look so sexy." Ben pressed himself up against Michael's hip, humping his thigh. The pink tip of Michael's tongue slid out to wet his lips, wordlessly begging Ben to kiss him. Their mouths open, lips crushed together, sliding, sucking, wet and passionate they kissed until Ben thought he would come right then.
Breaking the kiss, Ben whispered, "It's me fucking you, Michael. My thick cock is in you. Oh, baby, you feel so good. I'm aching and so hard."
Michael reached for Ben's dick to squeeze and pump as he wanted Ben to do to his, but he couldn't quite reach it. Moaning,Michael pleaded, "Oh, please touch me, Ben," and he angled his hips so Ben could penetrate him more deeply.
Ben took Michael's hand and placed it on his own stiff, weeping cock, telling him, "Touch yourself, baby. You know what will feel the best."
Michael swiped his thumb through the pre-come on the head of his penis and started pumping.
Ben watched Michael's face. He was so close. God, he loved this man. He repositioned himself so he was leaning against Michael, allowing both hands free--one to continue dildo-fucking Michael and the other to stroke his own aching cock.
As Michael's hand began the rapid action that would take him over the top, Ben sank the dildo deep into Michael, with slight, pulsing motions.
Michael's free hand squeezed Ben's pumping forearm and Ben quickened his strokes on himself.
Michael's back arched as his orgasm hit. Moaning repeatedly, he milked his own cock, while Ben came into his own hand, pressing himself against Michael's thigh, bucking his hips until a final shudder left him limp.
After he could breathe again, Michael slowly curled onto his side, rolling off the pillow.
"So, was that okay?" Ben asked innocently, handing the towel to Michael.
"Where did you learn to maneuver that thing? No, never mind. It doesn't matter." Michael sighed, heavy lidded and content.
"No, it doesn't." Ben gave him a smile and a chaste kiss. "Now, how about a cup of that tea?"
Michael was in a dark place, finding it hard to breath. There was smoke in the air and overturned tables and other large objects blocking his path. There. He heard it again, only louder this time. Jenny Rebecca was crying. He had to find her! Panic started to set in as he realized where he was. Babylon. The crying got louder; he felt pain and despair in the voice and he tried to move faster, but his legs were so heavy, he could barely lift them.
He called to her, frantically, "J.R.! It's Daddy. I'm coming, sweetheart. Don't cry!"
Something caught his ankle, stopping his progress, so he kicked out to shake his foot free. Looking down, he saw Dusty, but not the Dusty he knew. This was a horrible, monstrous, Dusty looking up at him, grinning. "Michael, Michael," she called to him; then it became a deeper voice, "Michael, Michael." Ben was touching his shoulder. He woke up.
He was shaking and sweaty. Ben smoothed back the hair on his forehead with his cool, dry hand.
"Another nightmare?"
"Yeah, pretty much the same one..." he said, pushing the covers off of his chest, sitting up.
Ben waited quietly, for him to say more.
"I saw Dusty at the bar that night, just before the bomb exploded," Michael finally said, in a quiet, confessional tone. "We just said 'hi, how are you doing,' that sort of thing. She was a nice person. She had two, really cute little girls." More silence. Then, "I think I saw her...when I came to. It was...bad. We were laying a few yards apart."
Ben was speechless. Michael had had a variation of this Babylon nightmare several times over the past month. His description had always centered on hearing J.R. crying and needing to get to her. But he'd never indicated that he was remembering any details from that night. Ben didn't know what to say and he didn't want to interrupt Michael's memories, so he kept silent.
"It was Dusty who cried." Michael's voice was flat, as if he was pushing the words out with effort. "She just stared at me and...cried."
"Oh, my God," Ben whispered unaware that he'd even spoken. This wasn't the dream. This was real. He sat up and put his arm protectively around Michael's shoulders.
"I was near a wall, so I pushed myself against it and tried to sit up. But I... I couldn't help her. After a while, I didn't hear her anymore." The sweat had cooled on his body and Michael shivered.
"Michael, you were badly hurt. Both of you were. You couldn't have helped her. It wasn't your fault." Ben touched Michael's face.
"I know that."
Michael shivered again, and Ben pulled him back down under the covers and wrapped him in an embrace, kissing his forehead and murmuring "I'm so sorry, baby," and thinking, When is this nightmare going to end?
Michael was through talking. They held on to each other and soon began their familiar post-nightmare routine of rubbing their hands over muscled arms and caressing each other's back. As their hips began to slowly pump, pelvises together and their legs entwined, both were moaning their desire for the other.
Pulling Ben on top of him, Michael blindly reached for a condom, opened it and rolled it down, covering Ben's hard length. Ben applied the lube. Their coupling was gentle and tender and over quickly. They just need to release the tension, to calm and soothe each other, so they could sleep again.
Michael and Hunter were finishing their cereal, Hunter reading the cereal box and Michael staring into his bowl. Ben thought that Michael seemed a bit subdued, though it was not surprising, having unearthed that horrid memory of seeing Dusty die. "You have Gymboree with J.R., this morning, don't you?" Ben asked, buzzing up his morning, power shake in the blender. He wanted to remind Michael of something good.
Waiting for the noise to stop, Michael answered, "Yeah, at ten. I'll take the bus there and Mel will drop Jenny off with me and pick us up afterwards. I'm having lunch with Mel and then I'll be at the store from around one through the rest of the afternoon. Hunter is opening for me this morning. Oh, that reminds me. Here are the keys."
Michael took the spare set of shop keys from a drawer. "We're having dinner with mom and Carl tonight, remember?"
"Can you pick me up on your way over there? My diner shift is over at 7:00." Hunter put his dishes in the sink and grabbed his backpack, as Ben nodded his head into the blender jar from which he was drinking.
"See you tonight and see you later," Hunter said over his shoulder, heading out the back door to get his bike from the garage.
"Bye!" Ben and Michael called out in unison.
"This is going to be a long day for you, babe," Ben said to Michael. "You've only been back at the store full-time for a few days."
"I'll be fine. It's not exactly hard physical work. Mmm, you put a banana in that one," Michael said, kissing his cold lips as Ben put his coat on.
"I just don't want you to push yourself too hard. I'll call you later. Put your cell on. Love you," Ben answered as he went out the door.
Michael loved the time that the 'baby gym' class afforded him with Jenny Rebecca each week. It was mostly lots of touch and talking. He was the only dad in the class of eight adults and eight babies. Some of the others had made a fuss over them the first week or two. Now, the moms tended to talk to each other quite a bit, but Michael was there to be with J.R.
He'd move her chubby little arms up and down and she'd smile and make faces. He'd 'bicycle' her legs and she'd kick and wave her arms in excitement. He'd kiss her neck and inhale her baby smell. He marveled that this little, growing person was part of him.
He'd just gotten J.R. strapped into her carrier when Mel arrived to pick them up. As they drove to Mel's house, Michael told her that J.R. seemed to understand that when the music started, she should move. "I think she's going to be a good dancer," he said with a laugh.
At the house, he took Jenny Rebecca up to her room to change her and to feed her a bottle of breast milk that Mel had pumped specifically for that purpose. Then he put her down for a nap, while Mel stayed downstairs and fixed the two of them some lunch. He appreciated that Mel gave him opportunities to do these sorts of daily intimate tasks with his daughter. Now that she wasn't staying overnight with Ben and him anymore, he missed them.
Mel seemed a little distracted and kept looking at the clock as they ate.
"I have to be at the store by one to relieve Hunter, but if you have things to do, I can go now. There's a bus in ten minutes," Michael said.
"Oh, no, Michael, I'm sorry. Lindz is supposed to be coming. I was just wondering where she is."
Just then, the front door opened and they heard voices. Michael felt a little warning churn in his stomach to see that it was Lindsay and Brian. What the hell...?
Ben walked in the door, took one look at Michael's face and knew it had been a bad afternoon. "What happened? You sounded so happy when I talked to you before your lunch with Mel."
"It was a fucking ambush. Lindsay was there too and they got both Brian and me over there then, boom, over cookies, another fucking bomb! They want to move to Toronto!"
After his rant, Michael calmed down a bit and told Ben the details of Mel and Lindz' plan to move, including their reasons for going and their assurance that they would only go with Michael's and Brian's blessings. Michael was curled into a fetal position on the sofa, his energy spent. Ben tried to focus him on the positive aspects of the situation, if only to get through this day.
"Mel and Lindsay have to sell their house and find jobs. In the meantime, they might change their minds. Even if they do move, Toronto isn't so far away." Ben wracked his brain for more favorable outcomes. "Maybe Brian will refuse his permission."
"No, Brian's already caving. He says they're the parents and they have to do what they think is best. He pretends it's no big deal that he may be losing his son. Oh shit, Ben, it's 6:30. The last thing I want to do is go have a family dinner," Michael moaned.
"Look, we have to eat and we have to get Hunter, so let's just get in and out of Deb and Carl's as fast as we can, okay?" Ben suggested.
Michael reluctantly agreed adding, "My mom would just pack it all up and come over to see what was wrong. I have such a headache. Pot always does that to me."
"Pot? When did you...oh, never mind--Brian."
"So, when the guy started making noises about wanting us to find out who you were, so he could sue, we told him we wanted to ask him some questions about the bombing at Babylon and he backed right down." They were eating dinner and Carl was telling them about a possible break in the Babylon case.
"Wow, Ben! Way to go, dude! You may have already beat the crap out of the bomber!" Hunter was grinning at Ben.
"What I did was wrong, Hunter. I really need to apologize to him, somehow, or I'm no better than he is," Ben said severely.
"Listen up, all of you. He is just being questioned. We have nothing but a hunch right now, so do not mention this to anyone. Do you understand?" Carl asked, looking pointedly at Hunter. "And Ben--you stay away from him. If you need to do penance, get yourself a hair shirt."
"Michael, honey, you're awfully quiet tonight. Do you want to go upstairs and lay down?" Deb asked her son, who was uncharacteristically pushing his food around on the plate, but not eating much of it.
"No, Ma, I'm fine," he lied. He thought he might heave, if he forced anything else into his stomach.
Ben could see that Michael was exhausted and upset. Under the table, he gave Michael's knee a commiserating squeeze. They had mentioned to Carl and Deb that Mel and Lindsay were talking about moving to Canada, but hastened to add that nothing had been decided yet.
Tuning into the dinner conversation, Ben heard Carl say, "Well, at the risk of being unpopular, I don't think that gays have it so bad. Leaving the country is a bit extreme."
Ben felt an unpleasant jolt of surprise at his words. "Tell that to the families of the dead, Carl." Debbie and Michael exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Maybe I'd feel differently if I had a gay child, but I think Mel and Lindsay are making too much out of this," Carl said, defending his position.
"Last I knew, Carl, your fiancée does have a gay child whose shop was vandalized and who was nearly killed, minding his own damn business." Ben's jaw was clenching as he focused his ice blue eyes on Carl. "And see this ring?" Ben held up his hand, "It means nothing, legally, for us in this country."
Michael was shaking his head at Ben, silently telling him to drop it. Debbie's face was flushed and she tried to break the tension by asking who wanted pie and ice cream for dessert. Hunter looked from one face to another, biting his bottom lip.
Ben held his hands up, palms outward and tried to gather his thoughts. He spoke more calmly. "Carl, I hear you say these things, knowing that you actually like us and care about what happens to us, yet can still insist that the things that have happened, that are continuing to happen, aren't that bad. That doesn't bode well for the rights of gay people being protected anytime soon in this country."
He glanced at Michael, who looked miserable. "Listen, we have had a really long day. Deb, could we get the pie to go? Hunter, you ready?" Ben stood, hoping his family would follow his lead. They did.
"I'm sorry for barking at you, Carl. No hard feelings, huh?" Ben put his hand out to Carl, who took it, and they shook, warmly enough.
Hurried goodbyes were said at the door.
Hardly a word was spoken on the ride home.
"You think I shouldn't have spoken to Carl that way," Ben stated, as he shut their bedroom door.
"Ben, I can't talk about it now. Will you turn the light down, please? My head is killing me. I need to lie down." Michael was limp with exhaustion and pain. He sat, slumped at the foot of the bed, head in his hands. Ben helped him get his clothes off and settle in bed.
"Here, Michael, take these," Ben said, handing him two extra strength pain relievers and a little cup of water.
"Thank you," Michael said, curling on his side, his back to Ben.
Ben sat on the edge of the bed, hating to leave things this way. He wasn't tired yet. He needed to process the unsettling events of the evening. Maybe he'd write a bit.
About to stand up, he heard Michael's muffled voice, "Will you spoon me a while? I'm cold."
Ben lay on top of the bedclothes and wrapped himself around Michael's huddled form, relieved to be invited back.
"I'm not angry at you, Ben. What you said was...painfully true." Michael's voice was low, tight. "I have to let her go."
"You don't have to decide that tonight, Michael."
"But I can't stop thinking about it."
"Okay. So, make that your decision for tonight, if it helps you sleep. Tomorrow, you'll think about it some more."
"I don't think I can do this, Ben." Michael's voice was hardly more than a whisper.
Ben just held him until his breathing became deep and regular and Ben knew he was asleep. As he lay there, Ben thought about what it would mean for Michael to give his permission for the girls to take Jenny Rebecca to Toronto and he realized that a whole new waking nightmare was about to begin.
"Michael's here," Hunter announced into the book he was reading, as he reclined on the couch. At the curb, Michael stumbled as he waved his thanks to the driver of the car.
Ben was wiping the counter down, having just cleaned up the late dinner that they'd eaten. He hung up the dish towel as Michael came through the door.
"You're in trouble," Hunter sang out to Michael.
"Hey, Hunter," Michael said, making a halfhearted attempt to hang his coat in the closet. He missed the hook and dropped the coat on the floor, so he left it there. Next, he unsuccessfully tried to balance on one foot to toe off his shoes. Hunter eyed him curiously and realized his foster dad seemed to be drunk.
"Where were you?" Ben asked from the kitchen, trying to keep the anger and worry he was feeling out of his voice, at least until he found out what Michael had been doing. "Did you turn off your phone? I left three messages."
"I must have left it at the store," Michael replied, leaning against the wall, still trying to get his shoes off.
Thoughts of staying calm gone, his voice rose with disbelief. "And it didn't occur to you to call to let me know..." Ben trailed off in mid-sentence, as he also now realized that Michael was under the influence. "You went out drinking?"
"I stopped off at Woody's." Michael had finally gotten the shoes off.
"Three hours ago?" he asked incredulously, his face reddening, "And you didn't call to let me know?"
"Christ, Ben. I got...busy. Don't be mad," he said while weaving across the room. "I came home 'cause I missed you." Michael attempted to give Ben a kiss, but Ben held him off.
"Were you with Brian? How did you get home? I can't fucking believe this." Ben realized he was sounding a bit like a fishwife, but he couldn't believe Michael had not bothered to call and had come home drunk.
"No. Ted."
"Have you eaten?"
Ben seethed as he watched Michael roll his bleary eyes in answer to his question, then turn away from him.
Ben answered his own question. "No, of course not. Don't walk away from me, Michael!" Then he added, "Hunter, go up to your room, please."
"You are so busted." Hunter grinned at Michael as he went past. Michael grimaced at him, woozily.
Ben waited until Hunter's door closed, before turning on Michael.
"Very nice role modeling." He bit back whatever else he had been going to say and said instead, "You'd better go up to bed."
"Exactly what I was hoping you'd say." Michael again tried to get Ben to hug and kiss him, but Ben was having none of it.
"Stop it, Michael. You're too drunk to have a conversation and I'm sure as hell not interested in having sex."
"Since when?" Michael's voice rose. "So what if I'm a little drunk? Maybe I'll be able to keep it up long enough to enjoy it."
Ben was torn between his anger and his concern. Michael's emotional state had been spiraling down for the past two weeks, moody, not eating, staying at the store much later than usual. But he had never seen Michael this way. He was always sweet and happy after a drink or two. This felt ugly and destructive. Ben had never had sex with a drunk and he especially did not want to have that experience with Michael.
Ben was tired. He was tired of worrying, tired of trying to hold their world together, tired of feeling like things would never be the same again. Now, to have this scene with Michael, in front of Hunter no less; would this never end?
"You know what... never mind." Michael went to the door and sat on the floor, putting his shoes back on. "I don't need this shit."
Oh Christ, here we go, Ben thought, but said, as calmly as he could, "What are you doing, Michael?"
"I'm going to Brian's."
Ben knew that there was no reasoning with a drunk, so he just flatly said. "You're not going out again." He knew that it was a mistake as soon as he'd said it.
"Who are you? My mother? Give me the goddamn keys."
Ben picked up both sets of keys and headed upstairs.
Brian picked up on the third ring.
"I need you to come over here and take care of Michael."
"Ben?" Brian asked, feeling a little alarmed. "What's wrong with Michael?"
"He's shit-faced drunk and insisting on driving to your house. I'm taking the car and Hunter out of here for a couple of hours and when I get back, I want him gone."
Brian felt his anger rise. "Gone? Are you kicking him out?"
"No. Of course not. I want him to sleep it off at your place so I can... think." Ben's voice sounded odd to Brian. Now, he could hear Michael's voice in the background. He sounded angry, but Brian couldn't make out the words.
"He needs help. We need help, Brian. Please just come and get him."
"Ten minutes," Brian said, hanging up the phone.
After Michael got his shoes and coat on, he followed Ben up the stairs and stood in the doorway of their room, loudly demanding, "Who are you calling? Give me the keys, Ben."
Ben saw the challenging look on Michael's face lift, just before Michael abruptly turned and went back down the stairs.
For a minute, he thought Michael had changed his mind about going out. Then he remembered the spare keys. He swore under his breath and started after Michael.
Brian drove, feeling a little guilty that he hadn't seen his best friend in the two weeks since Michael had given his permission for Mel and Lindsay to take the kids to Toronto.
Though he was going to miss Gus and Lindz a hell of a lot, Michael was connected to J.R. at the hip. He should have known this would eat Michael up.
This 'move away' idea had caught both of them totally off guard. Following the girls' big announcement, he had given Michael a ride to the comic book store and gone in to hang out for a while. They had shared a joint in the backroom. Michael had wasted what should have been a great high, pacing around, listing all of the reasons why he would never give his consent.
But then, just two days later, he'd turned around and told them to go! That had blindsided him. Brian had been counting on Michael to refuse to let them take J.R.
In desperation, Brian had tried some lame, last-ditch effort to deny his 'blessing' or whatever the hell they wanted to call it, but had only succeeded in pissing Mel off. Damn, Mel and her paranoia!
Since then, he'd just tried to block out the whole business by working long hours and putting most of his focus on trying to make this marriage plan with Justin feel... right. Not calling Michael for the past two weeks had been his way of punishing him. Christ, his life was feeling surreal.
He couldn't think about that right now.
Thinking of Michael and Ben, it was hard to imagine Michael as a scary drunk. What could he be doing that Ben couldn't handle? Wanting to stay up all night and read his entire collection of Captain Astro?
As he pulled in front of their house, he saw Michael in his coat and Ben in shirt sleeves, facing off at the car. Ben was blocking Michael from getting in, talking to him. Michael stood with legs apart, hands on hips, his frosty breath illuminated by the front porch light. Hunter was watching from the front door, his skinny arms wrapped around himself.
"...how I managed to survive before I met you!" Michael was yelling as Brian approached them.
As the slam of the car door registered, Michael stopped his tirade and turned to see Brian heading toward them. He angrily faced Ben again, gave him the finger and said, "Asshole!" At that, he lobbed something over into the neighbors' yard.
A muffled 'chink' sounded, as whatever it was landed in the dark.
"Oh, for God's sake, Michael, those are your spare shop keys, too," Ben said with disgust.
Brian walked towards their car and called out a greeting. "Hey, boys."
"Go fuck yourself," Michael said to Ben. He didn't look at Brian as he turned and stomped up the porch steps, into the house. Ben got in the car and started it, calling for Hunter to grab their coats. As Brian passed him on his way to the house, Ben just shook his head.
Brian followed Michael into the kitchen where he was pouring vodka over a full glass of ice. Brian heard the front door close as Hunter left to follow Ben.
"Make mine a double," Brian said to Michael's back.
"You come here to baby-sit me?" Michael asked, irritably.
"No, Mikey. I came to invite you over to the loft. We need to talk."
When Michael turned to hand him the drink, Brian had to hide his shock at the image that faced him.
Michael's dark eyes looked sunken into his gaunt face. They were dull and hard. No spark. It was more than anger and alcohol. He looked haggard and thinner than ever.
Trying to cover his sudden concern, Brian casually asked, "Have you eaten yet?"
"Jesus, not you too." Michael shucked his coat off again, this time onto the kitchen floor, and got another glass out of a cupboard.
"Well, I haven't and I thought we could get some take-out on the way." Brian picked up the coat and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Michael's face. He didn't seem so drunk. His fight with Ben and the cold air must have sobered him a bit.
"That was a dramatic scene you and Dr. Banner just had. Trying to impress the neighbors?"
"Fuck the neighbors." Michael turned unsteadily, setting his drink on the table, before sitting heavily in a chair. "Ben's pissed because I went to Woody's after work and had a few."
"Alone? Why didn't you call me?"
"And interrupt your wedding plans?" They just stared at each other for a few seconds until Brian looked away. "Anyway, I wasn't alone. Ted showed up and there were...other people," Michael vaguely waved his hand to indicate the other people.
"How'd you get home?"
"Ted. But I shouldn't have bothered to come. Ben was all freaked out about dinner and shit." He trailed off, putting his head on the table, seeming too exhausted to explain.
"Well, you are missing a spleen and all," Brian said.
"Do I need that to process large amounts of alcohol?"
Brian wasn't used to having to work so hard to pull information out of Michael. He seemed so closed down.
"What happened today, Mikey?"
"I just told you."
"No, before you went to Woody's. Why did you decide to go drinking by yourself?"
Michael didn't answer for so long that Brian began to think he'd passed out. Then Michael lifted his head. The anger was gone now. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but none fell.
"They've sold the house. I went over to see J.R. after work and they told me. They've started packing. They're really going. Why don't you stop them, Bri?"
"I can't, Michael. I don't have any rights. Why did you say 'yes'?" Brian's tried to keep any accusation out of his voice. Michael was already beating himself up, more than enough. Michael's dark eyes were dull again.
"I can't fight anymore."
Looking at Michael, Brian saw that this was really true. "Let's go," he said, putting both glasses in the sink, still mostly full.
Michael struggled to his feet, then sat back down. "I don't feel so good."
"Oh shit," Brian groaned, tossing the coat over a chair, desperately looking around for the garbage can.
"The sink," Michael got out, swallowing and bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.
Brian grabbed the garbage can from under the sink, just in time for Michael to vomit into it.
It was pure liquid.
"Didn't you eat any lunch?" Brian asked.
"I forgot," Michael gasped, heaving another spray into the can.
Brian set a glass of water on the table and, spying a dish towel hanging on a peg, lay that on the table as well.
Michael lowered his forehead onto the edge of the table, cushioning it with his hand. Groaning and drooling, he retched into the container between his knees. After a while, the spasms stopped and he rinsed his mouth, spitting one last time into the garbage can.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Michael stood and stumbled to the bathroom. He was pretty wobbly, so Brian went with him, supporting him from behind as Michael fumbled with his zipper to pee.
When he was finished, Michael half zipped his pants and leaned his weight back into Brian, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Brian wrapped his arms around Michael and held him like that for a few minutes.
Suddenly, Michael's breathing grew ragged and he brought his hands up to his face. Michael's sobs wracked his body and the sounds of his misery made Brian's stomach clench with anxiety. Brian didn't know what to do, so he stepped in closer and held on, bearing witness to Michael's suffering, just as they had always done for each other when there was nothing else to be done.
Christ, how was Michael going to pull through this? He'd never seen him so broken down before.
After a few minutes, Michael's head fell back against Brian, "I can't lose Ben, too. I'm so fucked," he said in a hitching, nasal, voice. Brian reached down for a wad of toilet paper and handed it to Michael to blow his nose.
"You're not losing Ben. He just had to go cool off," Brian finally said. "You never could drink vodka, Mikey. Come on, I'll tuck you in." He supported his rubber-legged friend through the house and up the stairs.
"Which is your room?" he asked, realizing he'd never been in Ben and Michael's new bedroom. Michael pointed down the hall. Brian had to practically carry him; Michael was fading fast.
Brian sat Michael on the bed, pulled his shirt and sweater over his head, and let him fall back onto the bed. Then he worked Michael's pants off.
He was taken aback by the difference in his friend's body, since he'd last seen him. There were a score of pink and red healing scars on Michael's torso and legs and a long purplish one disappearing into his briefs, where the incision had been. He'd been so wrapped up in his own problems that he'd forgotten that Michael was badly hurt, just a few short weeks ago.
Now, it was Brian's eyes that stung with tears.
"Damn, Mikey. No wonder you can't pull yourself together. You keep getting blown apart."
But Michael didn't hear him.
Brian was tossing the kitchen garbage bag in the can outside when Ben and Hunter drove in.
"You're still here," Ben stated, while he and Hunter were getting out of the car. "How's he doing?"
"It's safe to go in. He blew his cookies and passed out before I could get him out of here, so I put him to bed. By the way, there really weren't any cookies. He's not eating."
"I know. Go on up to bed, Hunter," Ben said wearily, as they walked into the house. Brian noticed Ben's bloodshot eyes.
Hunter took the stairs two at a time, as if wanting to escape the scene.
"Thank you, Brian. I didn't know what else to do. He was getting pretty belligerent and we were just going round and round about the car, about everything. Did he tell you anything?" They had walked back into the kitchen.
"Only that the girls sold their house today and have started packing."
Ben was relining the garbage can. When he heard what Brian said, he slowly sank into a chair. "He didn't tell me that. I guess I didn't give him a chance." He bent to pick up Michael's coat, which had ended up back on the floor. With one hand, he scraped his hair back from his forehead, then rubbed his eyes. "I keep doing all this," he lifted the coat to his lap and looked around the room, "as if acting normally will make life normal."
Brian was feeling uncomfortable. Ben was not really his friend. But like Ted and Emmett, Michael had brought him into their circle and now Brian found that Ben was growing on him. They'd had an unspoken agreement to tolerate each other, for Mikey's sake, and though there had been the one run-in that had not gone too well, Ben seemed like a good guy, if a bit stuffy.
Brian knew that Ben was quite private and he respected that. Yet, here they were, together for a second time in a few weeks, with Ben in a vulnerable situation and him stuck here feeling like he should do something. What am I, his damn shrink? thought Brian.
"Do you have a phone book?" Brian asked.
Ben reached over and pulled open a drawer.
"Ben," Brian continued, as he took out the book and paged through it, "Mikey's a mess. You don't look too great either, but he's... disappearing." He circled a number in the book.
"This is a guy I know who helped me with Justin, after he was bashed." Brian shrugged. "Maybe you should call him tomorrow morning, tell him what's going on, and get Michael in there to see him."
Ben looked at Brian and nodded, silently, his eyes blinking and jaw working.
Brian stood. This was his cue to make his exit. He lifted one of the glasses out of the sink, took a big swallow of the watered down vodka and without another word, left.
Michael opened his eyes. Ben wasn't in the bed and it looked like he hadn't been, all night. Michael's head ached and the taste in his mouth was awful. He thought back just enough to remember what he could from the previous night and groaned, "Oh, shit."
Ben heard the shower start up, overhead. He thought he should probably go upstairs to do this. He didn't want Hunter coming in on them in the middle of it and he didn't know how Michael would react.
Michael opened the bathroom door and saw Ben sitting on the bed. "You're here," he said, relieved, as he stood in the doorway drying his hair with a towel.
"Where else would I be?"
"I don't know. Mexico?" He ran his hand through his damp hair, making it stand up at odd angles. "Getting a quickie divorce?"
Ben thought how young Michael looked sometimes, like a kid. Only this morning his shoulders slumped, his eyes held guilt and pain and there were dark circles around them. But most notable was the absence of his sweet smile, the one he used to greet Ben with. Ben patted the spot next to him on the bed.
Michael wrapped the towel around his waist and sat down. Ben took his hand.
Michael gently squeezed Ben's hand back. "Where did you sleep?"
"On the couch. How are you feeling?"
"Embarrassed. Shitty. Sorry." On the last word Michael looked at Ben.
"I'm sorry, too." Ben said, taking in the sad look.
"What are you sorry about?" Michael asked.
"Jumping all over you, the minute you came in."
"Don't be nice to me, Ben. I was a jerk." Michael said looking down at their hands.
Ben looked at Michael, willing him to raise his downcast eyes. "Neither one of us seems to be functioning too well these days." He took his glasses off and continued. "Michael, I called a therapist this morning and left a message asking for an appointment for myself. I'd like you to come and meet him, too."
Michael's eyes came up at that. Now they held confusion and anger, mixed with the guilt. He stood up and started to dig underwear and socks out of his dresser drawer. "What good is talking about everything going to do? All of this shit is really happening. It's not like I'm crazy or something."
"When I found out that I was positive, I went to a counselor for a while. That was also really happening. It didn't cure it, but it helped me to talk about it with someone who could be objective--someone who didn't know me and who I didn't know. Someone I could say anything I wanted to."
"Is this someone you know?" He said, putting on one sock.
"No."
"Why did you choose him?"
Ben was hoping this wouldn't come up. For some reason, he didn't think Michael would like that Brian had made the suggestion. So he fudged. "He's listed in the phone book and a friend of mine thinks he could help. Oh, and of course, he's gay."
"You talk to your friends about us? About our problems?" Michael pulled on the other sock.
"Michael, 'our problems' are pretty much common knowledge."
Michael looked at him like he was crazy.
"What friend doesn't know that we are trying to parent a sexually abused teenager? What friend of mine doesn't know that you were critically injured at Babylon? Who doesn't know that I beat the crap out of some old fool, preacher, at that vigil?"
"Oh," Michael muttered, putting on his underwear. "I thought you meant Jenny Rebecca--me getting drunk."
"Jenny Rebecca is just the straw that broke our back, baby." Ben let that sink in. "And you don't have a drinking problem. That was inappropriate pain management."
"I think I need to lie down again for a while."
Michael was changing the subject. Ben was tempted to continue his efforts to convince him then remembered that this was how Michael approached uncomfortable decisions. He would think about it, and they would talk some more, later. Ben let it go, for now.
"Are you going to freak out if I offer to get you some toast or something, before I go to work?"
"Go, Ben. You'll be late. I'll eat something, I promise. Is Hunter up? Would you ask him to open the store for me this morning and I'll be there a little later?"
"Sure, but he'll have to take your keys. The spares are over in the neighbor's yard somewhere," Ben said, heading out of the room.
Michael looked after him, somewhat confused for a moment then closed his eyes with a pained look, climbed on to the bed in his underwear and socks and pulled the covers over his head.
In the end, Michael agreed to go with Ben. The doctor suggested that Hunter also come to the appointment, so he could get an idea of the family dynamic.
Ben set the appointment and the following Monday afternoon found them all sitting in the outer office of Dr. John Wheeler. Ben was nervous and he could tell Michael was too, as his leg jiggled up and down and he kept rubbing his chin. Of the three of them, Hunter seemed the least fidgety.
Finally, a man who looked to be only a little older than they were came out and introduced himself as Dr. John Wheeler. He was casually dressed, in shirt and slacks.
Michael chided himself. What had he been expecting--a balding man with a goatee, glasses and a German accent?
All three of them stood as Ben said, "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Wheeler. I'm Ben Bruckner. This is my husband, Michael Novotny, and our son, Hunter."
"Please sit. And call me John," said the doctor, indicating their chairs and sitting in one himself. "I'd like to begin by spending a few minutes with each of you individually, just to hear why you chose to come here today. I basically want to hear what's on your mind and anything you especially think I should know. After that we'll come back together as a group and we can discuss where to go from there. Does that sound all right to you?"
Everyone nodded and Dr. Wheeler said, "Fine. Who's first?"
All eyes looked at Ben, so he got up and followed the doctor down the hall.
Closing the door, the doctor said, "Make yourself comfortable, Ben." He watched the well-maintained, somewhat self-conscious man, as Ben chose a sturdy, but comfortable looking armchair rather than the couch.
"I'd like to take a few notes while you talk. These will be for me to refer to later. Will this be distracting to you?"
"No. I'm a teacher. I'm used to people taking notes while I talk."
They both smiled and Dr. Wheeler said, "Great. Tell me a little about you and Michael."
"It's hard to know where to start," Ben began.
"How long have you and he been together?"
"We've been living together for over three years. We got married in Toronto about four months ago. But it seems like ever since, we've been trapped in a nightmare from which we can't wake. Things just keep happening."
"Start at the beginning," said the doctor.
Ben took a deep breath and began his synopsis of the events of the past months, beginning with Hunter leaving and ending with Jenny Rebecca's imminent move to Toronto.
Though he thought he was prepared to tell of the events, he unexpectedly found himself choking up when he tried to talk about the night at Babylon. He swallowed and cleared his throat, embarrassed at the emotions that threatened. "It still shakes me up, I guess. I haven't ever discussed that night, with anyone," he apologized.
John thought to himself, Ben's an intelligent guy and he's come here thinking that Michael's the one with all of the issues. But he's wound too tight. Too much had happened to them, for this to be all Michael's problem. "This would be a good place to do that," the doctor said, encouraging him.
"Maybe next time," Ben said, nodding.
He went on, "Hunter came home just as we found out that Michael was going to make it and I hardly had the energy to be happy about it. I mean, I was thrilled to have him back, but Michael was in such bad shape ..." He stopped again, tears stinging his eyes. What the hell is this all about? Ben thought to himself, surprised at the rawness welling up in him. It must be nerves.
"Can I just ask, Ben, do memories of that event interrupt your sleep, or disrupt your general concentration?"
"No." Ben shook his head. "I'm not depressed about it, if that's what you're wondering. I just don't think about it."
"That is what I was wondering."
Ben plowed on, determined to get out the events he'd rehearsed. "Well, two days after the bombing, at a memorial vigil for the dead and injured, I attacked and beat a man, an older man, for his hateful beliefs and the things he said. I'm a practicing Buddhist and what I did was so out of line with what I believe. I'm finding it hard know what to think about that--to forgive myself."
"Can you tell me more about that?" John asked.
"I'm not really ready to talk about that just yet," Ben evaded. The doctor just pursed his lips like he was going to call Ben on something, then let it go.
Ben continued with his narrative. "Now, Michael's young daughter is moving to Canada with her mothers and he's... bereft. He's pulling away from me, from everyone really."
"How so?"
Finally, he could talk about Michael.
"He stays at the shop for extra hours. He won't talk. I miss him, but when he's around, I feel like I should try and fix things, to make him happier, even though I know there's nothing I can do." Ben didn't like the way that all came out. He felt vaguely guilty. It sounded like he was complaining about Michael. He wanted to get Michael some help, not list his failings. He stopped and searched for a way to change the course of the conversation.
"Things are really strained between the three parents, so his visits with Jenny Rebecca--that's her name-- have gotten fewer and shorter. He almost never sees her and I miss, I mean, he misses her." He stumbled over his words.
As he misspoke, the doctor watched as Ben broke eye contact and looked away.
The doctor's questions were interrupting Ben's flow, flustering him, making him feel more than he'd anticipated. He wanted to talk about Michael, to say how worried he was about him.
"Can you briefly tell me the circumstances around how Michael came to decide to father a child for this couple?"
"Sure. Originally, the girls just wanted Michael to be a sperm donor. Michael would never agree to that, so they agreed that he would be 'the father.' They may not have known what that would mean to him, but it means a lot. He never knew his own father and takes his role very seriously. He was very involved in the whole pregnancy and has been a doting, wonderful dad."
Ben's ease at discussing Michael, but his refusal to discuss his own feelings was a clear indication of something. John just wasn't sure what it was yet.
"How did his becoming a father make you feel?"
Ben realized with a start, that there was an important piece that he'd forgotten to mention. Of course the doctor needed to know it.
"John, this probably comes under the 'things you should know about' category. I'm HIV positive. I have been for over six years, now."
Dr. Wheeler nodded slightly, with new understanding in his eyes. Here it was.
He asked the same question again, aware that he was pushing Ben. "How did his becoming a father make you feel?"
Shit. "I was thrilled for him, because it made him so happy."
Dr. Wheeler waited. "Anything else, Ben?"
Ben blinked. Sad, envious, jealous, full of yearning, angry and of course, ashamed, for all of those feelings, in himself. Damn. He didn't reply.
"Ben," the doctor went on, quietly and gently, but pressing. "How would you describe your relationship with Michael's daughter?"
Ben suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness, loss and shame. He couldn't answer and after a few uncomfortable seconds, closed his eyes and held his hand up, to ask for a moment, as he struggled for composure.
"I don't think anyone believes I'll be around long enough to really be a parent to J.R. and of course they don't want her to suffer such a loss?by getting too attached to me. This is pretty unconscious on everyone's part. I understand it, I even think it too, but it's--hard.
"What sort of things make you think this is how they feel?"
Ben spoke slowly. "The signs are subtle. The day she was born, no one thought to take a picture of me with her. I took all of the pictures. Another time, it was something her mom said, when she and Michael were arguing. I gave my opinion and Mel said it was 'none of my business' or something along those lines. Michael called her on that, right away. But until recently, he'd go to see J.R. a lot, without me. He has a much more flexible schedule than I have, but I'd like the option of going. I was always Uncle Ben, right from the start. Not that I need to be called Dad, but you know, everyone assumed, no one asked me," Ben trailed off, shrugging and feeling very uncomfortable. "Like I said, I don't even think they realize it."
"Have you and Michael discussed this?"
He shook his head. "A lot of conflict around custody started happening very soon after she was born. For a while it looked like we were going to have at least part-time custody of her. She was with us a few days at a time. It was great. We were so happy. I think that's when I realized I wanted to be more involved in her life, but then it all fell apart."
"How has your relationship with Michael changed recently?"
"Everything's changed. We seem to avoid most subjects. Like his not eating. I know he's upset, that he's not hungry, but I resent him ignoring his health and possibly getting sick and bringing us all down. It's just one of the topics we avoid. It seems like we barely speak to each other these days. We're not...physically close these day either."
Ben stopped talking. He heard how often he was using the word avoid.
John Wheeler had seen many HIV positive clients. Nearly, every one of them experienced life filtered through the fear that their time was limited and many held back from forming close relationships, because of that fear. He decided to push Ben a little more. "Ben, the others may not think to include you in J.R.'s life, to the extent you'd like to be, and neither of us can know their reasons, because they have not told you as much." He paused.
"But you just told me that you think it's understandable and that you even agree that you should not be considered." John's voice was kind and understanding. "I strongly urge you to look at how you are keeping your distance from this child and consider what it is costing you, at least, in your relationship with Michael, your husband. You of all people know, through recent experience, that any one of us could go at any time."
The doctor then asked, "Since you became positive, how often does it cross your mind?"
"I might go three hours, without thinking of it, if I'm busy with something," Ben answered honestly.
"Do you assume that everyone who knows you, even loves you, thinks of it that often?"
Ben looked thoughtful. He knew that John was telling him that he might be reading too much into things.
"I'd like you to try to examine the feelings you had while we were talking. I'm thinking that you may have come here with one agenda, but now you are finding there are other things that need some attention, as well."
"Are you comfortable, Michael?" Dr. Wheeler asked.
Michael nodded, thinking, yeah right. However he'd decided to be as honest as he could.
"Well, you should know that this was Ben's idea. I've never been to a counselor before and I didn't want to come but, I love Ben and I'm not handling my life very well. So, here I am."
Dr. Wheeler nodded and smiled, in understanding. He seemed to consider Michael's statement. "It sounds like you have all had an extraordinary amount to handle. Is there a particular issue that you feel you aren't handling well?"
"My daughter's mothers are moving with her to Toronto, because they don't feel it's safe or accepting here, of gay families. Things have fallen into place for them, pretty quickly or at least a lot more quickly than I'd expected." Michael thought a moment. "I told them they could move for what seemed like the right reasons, good reasons, but I guess I really didn't think they would go, because now...I hate them for making me choose. I can barely stand to see them anymore. I want what's best for J.R. and Gus but to hardly ever see her, to miss so much of her life? What kind of a fucking choice was that?"
Michael's face felt flushed and his voice was a little shaky.
"I can't see any good way for this to end. Having J.R. here, knowing she's leaving, is worse than having her gone. Sometimes, I wish moving day would just get here."
"It sounds like a very tough choice to make," Dr. Wheeler agreed.
"So, in general, how would you describe your state of mind?"
Michael thought a moment, "I feel angry or sad--a lot. It comes over me like a wave. Then I just shut-down."
The doctor could see for himself that this man looked worn out. "How are you taking care of yourself? For instance, how's your appetite?"
Michael stated flatly, "I can't eat. I feel sick just smelling food. Ben gets angry about that. I know it's because he's worried about me." Michael decided to confess the sin that had brought him here. "I got roaring drunk a couple of nights ago, partly because I hadn't eaten all day. I behaved pretty badly. I'm sure he told you about that."
"Is drinking something you are concerned about?"
"Well, no. I don't normally drink much, but Hunter was there and I got mad at Ben. It was a scene I wish hadn't happened, especially for Hunter's sake."
"I see. How has your relationship with Hunter been, since his return?"
Michael guilt increased at that question. "I think Hunter has just been trying to stay out of our way. It seems like we've hardly paid any attention to him, since he came home. He's a really good kid and he's been through too much already." Michael shook his head sadly.
"With all the recent stresses in your life, have you felt any urges to hurt yourself?"
"No. I've never felt suicidal."
"How about hurting anyone else, Michael. Do you ever think of that?"
Embarrassed, Michael hastened to say, "No, nothing like that. I tend to be pretty emotional--I kind of blurt things. J.R.'s mothers know that I'm upset. They feel pretty bad about taking her away from me, I think. I don't really hate them. It's only recently that I've felt so much anger towards them, but I'm not sure if they even know it. I've been avoiding them. Problem is when I avoid them, I don't see Jenny or Gus."
Dr. Wheeler nodded. "If you can't be a daily presence in your child's life, what are you afraid might happen?"
He answered, sadly, "Well, she's only a few months old. My biggest fear is that she won't know who I am when she sees me and that she won't--love me, or let me love her." His eyes were shiny with tears.
"Ben and I talk about going to Toronto once a month to visit. I almost believe it's a possibility while we are talking about it, but Saturdays are my busiest day at the store and it's at least a five hour drive. And what about Hunter? He's not going to want to go schlepping off to Toronto every few weeks and we don't want to leave him at home. Then there's the expense--and what if Ben doesn't really want to go that often. I just know it isn't going to happen."
There! He'd said it. What he hadn't been able to say to Ben or anyone else, because they'd all deny that things would go that way.
"It sounds like you've really tried to look at the logistics, realistically. Sometimes the wait is much worse than actually living the change." Dr. Wheeler said. "We anticipate and feel the pain of our loss for so long, that it becomes our sole focus. Once you can start doing the new things that will keep you a real presence in J.R.'s life, I'm thinking you will find a good measure of satisfaction and relief."
"One thing I'd suggest you try doing, right away, is to make a written list of things you can do from Pittsburgh, to keep in daily, weekly, and monthly touch with the children. Actually write your ideas down and realistically make note of how often you could do each item. I'm not talking about sending expensive gifts. I mean things that are about you. Things like an email, a picture of yourself, and yes, put visits on the list, too." Michael's eyebrows raised as he considered the possibilities.
"That's your homework, okay? Now you've mentioned that you feel tension between Ben and yourself and you expressed concern that Ben might not like to go as often to see J.R. as you would wish. Can you tell me a bit more about how you and he are relating these days?"
"Did I?" Michael thought a moment. He'd been too preoccupied with his own stuff to think much about Ben lately. "I think I just try to stay away from him, because I've been in such a bad mood. I'm having some, um, issues with, um, closeness..."
"Intimacy problems?" the doctor supplied helpfully.
Michael nodded, embarrassed again, but he was worried about this. "Ben and I have always been very...affectionate with each other, but right now our sex life is non-existent. It's mostly my fault. I either feel too tired, or...I can't keep my interest up, so to speak. That has never happened to me before. It scares me and I'm embarrassed, so I don't want to even try."
Dr. Wheeler nodded his head and said reassuringly, "Unfortunately, for men it's common for our sexual drive to plummet during times of extreme stress. We can't fake an erection. If stress is causing your lack of interest it is likely be improved with further therapy. We'll discuss it more in the future if things don't straighten out by themselves." He was rewarded for his pun, with a small but genuine smirk from his client. Michael seemed to be relieved at the words, but his posture was sagging and he looked spent.
"Michael," Dr. Wheeler began, seeing that Michael's energy was flagging, "I think we've talked enough for today. Do you have anything else that you'd like to say?"
Michael shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
From what you've told me today, you display nearly all of the symptoms of someone suffering from depression."
He watched as Michael, who had been leaning forward in his seat, leaned back and closed his eyes, in resignation? Defeat? Relief? He couldn't tell, but hastened to reassure him that he was there to help.
"I would classify this as a 'situational depression' as opposed to an organic one, brought about by your current circumstances. There is medication that may help you through this transitional time, but I'd like to see how things go as we work together, if you are willing. I think we might do well to start with something that will help you sleep. You are exhausted and it's difficult to think clearly when you aren't getting adequate sleep. I'm going to write you a prescription right now."
Michael sat as the doctor went to his desk. He felt totally spent, like all of his limbs were dead weight. His mind was a jumble of feelings, but he could identify one of them as gratitude that this man seemed to just want to help him. He was so tired. It was all he could do not to lay his head down and weep.
"Hunter, have a seat and just tell me, if you will, how things are going for you at home."
Hunter had been through this before, many times. But this time he felt in a far better place than all of the other times. "Well, it seemed like things were just starting to get back to normal when all of this shit came down with J.R. and her mom's and Michael." Leaning forward to make his point, he asked, "I mean, how much crap can a guy take? First he has to get a lawyer to spend time with J.R. then he gets blown-up and now they're taking her away!"
He thought of Michael yelling at Ben the other night. Shaking his head and smiling a little, he said, "Hell, I'd get drunk too. Ben hustled me out of the house like I'd never seen a guy blotto before. That was nothing."
The doctor just nodded. Hunter looked down at his hands in his lap for a few seconds, then continued in a more subdued manner, "I guess having me leave them, wasn't so great either." Deb had told him that both Michael and Ben had missed him "something awful." Those were her exact words.
"I feel bad for Ben, too. When Michael got blown up, it was--scary. He looked awful." Hunter shuddered a little at the memory. "Ben was pretty freaked out about him and it took a long time to get him healthy. Ben's sort of a health guru, anyway, and now Michael feels like crap, again."
"I've been trying to eat extra large portions, so Ben won't feel like he's wasting his time."
Dr Wheeler smiled and asked, "Are you happy living with Ben and Michael?"
"Yeah, I'm happy, but it's way better when they're happy. It's too quiet around our house, now. He and Ben used to be all over each other, kissing and talking. Now they barely speak. Lately, Michael hardly talks to anyone. I still like hanging out at the store with Michael. He's most like his old self there."
"Are you back in school now, Hunter?"
"No, I had some trouble there. I'm working at Michael's comic book store, some, and I have a job at the Liberty Diner. It sucks. I'm thinking of going back to school but I haven't said anything to them yet, so you have to keep that confidential, if I ask you to, right?"
"Not a problem, Hunter. Anything you say remains between us, unless you give me permission to share it. Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
"I'm glad we're seeing you for them, instead of for me--glad I'm not the problem for a change."
Smiling again, the doctor said, "It's nice to hear how fond you are of your foster parents. And it's wise of you to consider how you might finish up high school. If I can help you in anyway with that, please let me know. Let's all get back together and talk a little bit. Would you ask Ben and Michael to come in and join us?"
Once they were all settled, Ben and Michael on the couch and Hunter and the doctor in chairs, Dr. Wheeler began. "What I've observed here, through listening to and talking with each of you, is that you are a loving family, who clearly care a great deal about one another and try to take good care of each other." He looked at each of them, in turn. "You have all been under an enormous stress, both physical and emotional and I'd say, you were wise to seek help, under such circumstances.
"This choice you had to make about J.R. is a very tough one for you. On top of that, you have all been putting your lives back together after Hunter's return, and suffering the extreme trauma of the violent attack on Babylon, which you both went through," he said pointedly looking at Ben.
"Ben, even though you were not physically hurt in the blast, I would wager that you saw some rather awful things that night."
Michael and Ben looked at each other. "I never thought of that, Ben." Michael said. Ben had an uncomfortable look on his face, but said nothing.
Dr. Wheeler continued, "That's not surprising Michael. You've both been so immersed in handling one stress after another, that you've exhausted yourselves and your coping methods. Now you have the multiple loss issues, centering around children, for both of you to deal with." He stopped a moment to observe them. Again, Michael looked at Ben.
"Michael, you used the image of a 'wave washing over you' earlier, and I'd like to continue with that analogy by suggesting that you have both been moving through these incidents, one after another, like people treading water, in rough seas, trying to keep your head up. But having one wave after another push you under, you simply can not keep an eye on the land. But it is there. My job will be to help get you standing on firm ground, again."
"I see your issues mainly as couple's issues. I'd like to see you, Michael and Ben, together, twice a week for a few weeks. I'd like Hunter to come again, a couple of times, but not every week, just to see how you are all feeling about how our work is progressing. We may employ this one on one part of each session, then all of us together, to wind up. How does that sound to you?"
Michael and Ben looked at each other and nodded. Neither one could trust his voice to answer.
Hunter breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, what did we all think of that?" Hunter asked as they drove home from the therapist's office.
When Michael, who was looking out the passenger window, didn't answer, Ben did, saying, "He seems capable and caring. It's hard to tell after just one visit. What did you think?"
"Been there, done that," Hunter said nonchalantly, "So, I don't have to go again, do I?"
"None of us has to go again," Ben said, throwing Michael a sidelong glance. Michael still said nothing.
"Earth to Michael!" Hunter prodded.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was thinking about something. He seems fine, I guess," Michael said.
"He just wants to see you very occasionally, Hunter. He thinks you're in pretty good shape." Ben smiled at him in the rearview mirror.
"Whatever." Hunter shrugged. "Can you drop me off at the diner?"
Michael knew the shifts by heart. "I thought you didn't have to be there until four?"
"Well, I want to have something to eat, before I start my shift, and it'll save you another trip out, until you have to come get me."
"Good point," Ben agreed.
"So, I'd like to talk about our appointment a little. Are you up for it?" Ben asked, as they pulled into the driveway, after dropping Hunter off. "You weren't going to go back to the store today, were you?"
"No, school's already out and the kids think I'm closed, so there's not much point. Let's get something hot to drink and go upstairs. I'm freezing and I want to lie down."
"How does hot chocolate sound?" Ben asked, unlocking the door.
A few minutes later, Michael sat cross-legged against a pile of pillows, on the bed, sipping his hot chocolate. Ben was in the chair, facing him, with a cup of tea.
Ben began, "Are you glad you went?"
"Well, It's more like, I'm not sorry I went," Michael hedged. "It was?interesting to hear myself tell him what I was thinking."
"Interesting? Did you say things you didn't expect to say?"
"No, I just mean--he asked questions that made me think in ways that, I guess, I didn't think before. But really, he didn't say that much; I did most of the talking," Michael concluded.
"Yeah, I had a similar experience. They say that's a sign of a good therapist. You work out your own problems. They don't tell you everything." They both fell silent, lost in thought.
"So, what did you tell him about our fight the other night, me getting drunk and all that?" Michael asked putting his cup down and pulling his knees up, hugging them.
"Nothing," Ben answered absently, but then he realized that this had been what Michael thought they went to the therapist for. "I told you, Michael. That wasn't really the issue. It was more about how upset you were-- you are--and how I'm handling or not handling things, whichever way you look at it."
"I thought you were just saying that you wanted to go, to talk to a therapist, but we were really going for me." Michael said picking at the spread.
"Typical. Everything is all about you," Ben said, teasingly, but Michael looked stung.
"Do I act that way, like it's all about me?"
Ben shook his head and set his tea down. "No, I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing for me to say, even as a joke." He stood and went to sit nearer to Michael on the bed. "I was trying to be ironic. You are always thinking about everybody else." He went to take Michael's hand and exclaimed, "Jesus, Michael, your hands are freezing!"
"I can't get warm. Let's get under the covers."
They climbed, fully clothed into the bed. Ben lay on his back with his arm around Michael, Michael's head on his shoulder.
"You know, until I started talking today, I really didn't know what I was going there for." Ben confessed. "Once I started telling him all of the things that were on my mind, I couldn't believe the list. I guess I did think it was all about you. Just not in the way you meant."
They were both silent for a few moments, then, "What happened that night at Babylon?" Michael asked softly, looking up at him.
Ben held his gaze for a few moments then looked straight up at the ceiling as he spoke, his voice low and somewhat mechanical.
"I went looking for you, after the bomb went off. You were against the wall, like you remembered. You were conscious, and you said that you 'knew I'd find you.'"
"Huh, I don't remember that," Michael mused, with his cold nose buried in Ben's shirt. "I don't know why I never asked you before. So, it was you who saved me?" he looked up again and was surprised to see a tear slowly making a trail down the side of Ben's face.
"Honey, what is it?" Michael asked with concern as he got up on his elbow and looked into his husband's eyes.
"I used to think about dying all of the time," Ben said, his lips quivering, "but I never dreamed that I might watch you die."
"I didn't die, Ben," Michael said, cupping his face. "You saved my life. You really are my hero."
Ben threw off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, with his back to Michael. "Oh, Michael, don't say that. You were so close to it. You were bleeding out, onto the floor." His breathing was ragged and he rubbed his face as if he could erase the memories. "I had to leave you, to get the paramedics. You begged me not to go. There was so much blood and gore everywhere. I was fucking terrified."
Michael climbed to his knees behind Ben. He rubbed his back, trying to sooth him. "It must have been awful. You had to leave me. I'm glad you left me. I forgive you. That's the thing about heroes. Even though they are scared, they do the thing that has to be done, anyway."
Ben spoke, more calmly. "The paramedics saved you. Anyway, I don't think it counts as heroic to save the person you love most in the world. I was being purely selfish."
"Okay, Ben, I know you're not perfect. You can be my selfish hero." Ben snorted a laugh at that. Michael reached around his neck from behind, hugging him. Ben pressed his lips to Michael's slightly warmer hands.
Michael started fumbling with Ben's shirt buttons.
"You're too hot. I'm cold. Let's both get comfortable and you can tell me more."
They quickly stripped themselves naked and climbed under the covers, where Michael turned on his side, away from Ben.
Ben molded himself into Michael's contour. He loved the feeling of this intimacy, as Michael snuggled closer trying to absorb Ben's body heat to get warm. It had been a long time since they just lay together and talked. They used to do this all of the time. Mid-day, cuddling in bed had always been one of their best 'talking times'.
He didn't want to talk about Babylon or ruin their snuggling mood but by bringing up J.R. Ben knew he could change the subject. She was never far from Michael's mind these days, anyway.
"You know, by your definition, you're kind of a selfish hero, too-- sending J.R. off to Canada for her own good, even though it's a big loss for you."
"Then I'm the most fucking reluctant hero, ever," Michael mumbled.
"Now there's a dynamic duo, for you-- Selfish Man and Reluctant Man, the anti-heroes," Ben said, as he kissed Michael's back.
"Dr. Wheeler said something about the wait being worse than the actual being apart. That kind of felt right. He gave me homework. Did you get homework?"
"No."
"Figures. Well, anyway, he told me to write down all of the ways I can stay in touch with the kids after they leave. I've been thinking about that." Ben said nothing. Michael turned in his arms to face him.
"Do you think I should go on medication?"
Maybe Michael didn't want to talk about J.R., Ben thought.
"Well, the sleeping aid is probably a good idea, as a first step. Do you think you might want to try an antidepressant?"
"No," Michael said.
Ben felt relieved. "There are some more natural things you could take."
Michael hugged him and smirked. "I knew you were going to say that."
While they had been talking, Ben had felt the cloud hanging over them lift for a while. He didn't want it to come back.
"So, are you willing to see Dr. Wheeler again?"
"Uh huh," Michael murmured, turning on his back now, his eyes closed.
Ben kissed his ear and spoke very quietly, "Thank you for doing this with me."
"You're the person I love most in the world, too," Michael said, turning his face to Ben for another kiss.
Hearing him say that, Ben could have cried again.
"I can't remember the last time we just lazed around in bed talking," Michael said. "It seems like forever since we just? talked."
"I was just thinking the same thing." Ben unconsciously rubbed his growing erection into Michael. "Sorry. As usual, you're turning me on." Ben said, as Michael kissed him, again.
"Don't ever apologize for that."
His eyes still closed, Michael slid his hand slowly down the length of Ben's hip and held his penis, feeling it thicken and harden. Soon, he felt Ben's lips very near his face, felt his breath and heard his husky voice.
"Are you teasing me, baby?"
Michael opened his eyes and smiled, sleepily. "I wouldn't do that to you, after the couple of weeks we've had. But I'm too tired for fucking. How about a nice blow job?"
Ben considered the offer, chuckling at Michael's bluntness. Sometimes, he certainly was his mother's son. He nuzzled Michael's neck and Michael turned to get a condom.
Then the phone rang.
"Shit," Ben swore softly, reaching out to grab the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, Ben. It's Melanie."
"Oh, hi, Mel." Ben looked over at Michael, who had a questioning look on his face.
"Hey, this is kind of a late request, but we were wondering if you and Michael would like to come over and spend the evening with J.R. and Gus. Lindz and I were hoping to go out to grab a bite to eat and you haven't been here in a while, so?"
"Hold on a minute. Let me check with Michael." Ben held the phone against the blanket.
"They want us to watch the kids over there, for a couple of hours this evening. Are you up for it?" Michael considered it, then nodded.
"Sure. We'd love to," Ben said. "What time?"
"Can you come about five-thirty? We have some good leftovers for you guys to eat."
"Great. We'll see you then. Bye." Ben put the phone down.
"I hope we can find out what their plans are. I want to know when they're leaving," Michael said. He held up the condom, shaking it in what he hoped, would look like an enticing way, but the moment had passed.
Ben shook his head, gave Michael a kiss on the forehead and got up to find his pants. "You wanted to rest for a while. I'll wake you when we have to go."
Since his and Ben's first visit with Dr. Wheeler, twelve days ago, Michael had made a renewed effort to as much of J.R. as he could.
He talked with Mel and Lindz about his ideas of how he would keep in touch between visits. They assured him that they would read her and Gus his emails and anything else he sent them. They took pictures of him with the children, to hang on their new fridge. They promised to email him a short summary of how she was and what new' things she was doing, at least once or twice a week.
Michael told Dr. Wheeler that he felt his anger was fading, replaced with acceptance, but that sadness still came on him, unexpectedly. Nevertheless, he was sleeping better.
Ben had been talking with Wheeler, in more detail, about things that he had seen, that night at Babylon and his rage at the vigil.
Dr. Wheeler gave them both 'homework' assignments designed to help Michael and Ben to listen to each other, talk about their concerns and to just spend time together.
Hunter went back to high school, with Ben's promise to help him catch up with school work, so he could graduate with his class.
The tension was lessening and they occasionally made sweet, sometimes desperate, love again. Though 'calm' might be a word Michael or Ben could use to describe their lives, happy, fun, passionate, exciting, or carefree would not be.
One evening, Ben was reading and Michael was writing at the table. Ben got up and stretched, and came closer to look over Michael's shoulder.
"Finally working on your next issue of Rage? You've been hard at it for the past two evenings."
Michael glanced up at him, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Well, I got this idea that I wanted to write a story for J.R. and Gus. Sort of an ongoing 'giant comic' that Mel and Lindsay could read to them."
"I got the idea, when Dr. Wheeler told me to think of creative ways to keep in touch with her. You gave me the character ideas that same day, when you called us the anti-heroes. Do you remember?" Ben was nodding, as he took a seat.
"So far, I've got outlines for three stories where these two boy mice,--I picked mice because they're pretty easy to draw and they can get into all sorts of places and kids like cartoon mice. Anyway, they save the day, even though they are scared and reluctant to take on the challenge. It's simple stuff like sticking up for a friend or getting a toy back from a grumpy neighbor."
Michael stopped, seeing Ben's smile and suddenly felt like he was babbling.
"Do they have names yet?" Ben asked.
For now, I just call them Mike and Ben. They're best friends. Do you think that's too much? I want the kids to think of us, but is this too pathetic? Maybe, Mark and Dan would be better."
Michael stopped again at the look on Ben's face. His eyes had teared up, in that way that only blue eyes do. Ben blinked, and with an embarrassed smile, cleared is throat.
"I like it. It's much better than 'Juice Pig.'"
Michael's mouth flew open. "Oh, Ben! You don't think I was thinking of you when I wrote that character? I mean, I had a moment of inspiration when you were using the steroids, but I never pictured you beyond that. I don't see you as a mouse either!"
"I know, I know, Michael," Ben said, squeezing Michael's leg. "I was just covering my embarrassment at being emotional that you're writing a story for J.R., with us as the inspiration."
"You have been pretty emotional, lately, Ben," Michael said, smiling and touching Ben's face. "You remind me of me."
Then his smile left as he had a new thought. "Is there something else going on that I should know about?"
"No, no. It's nothing bad." Ben hastened to assure Michael that it wasn't his health, as he was pretty sure that is what Michael was thinking. He thought maybe this was as good a time as any to broach the subject of his own grief around never being able to father a child.
"All of this talking we are doing with John Wheeler has kind of brought up my regrets and sadness about never being able to be a dad, myself. So, I was touched at you including me in your story." He noticed Michael's puzzled look.
"Ben, do you really think the sperm is that much of an issue? We were together since her conception and we've been married since she was born. You are as much a dad to Jenny Rebecca, as I am. I mean, you've been there through the night fusses and changed her and cuddled her, all of the important stuff. She's pretty crazy about you. And remember those times you got her to stop crying when Mel and I couldn't?"
Feeling embarrassed and confused, as he always did when his relationship with J.R. came up, Ben tried to explain, "We always refer to her as 'your daughter' and I'm Uncle Ben?" then trailed off.
Michael paused, thinking about how that had come to be.
"I thought you wanted it that way. It's always felt to me like you?" Michael changed what he'd been about to say. "Would you like J.R. to call you Dad? Or Poppa? I'd be fine with that."
Ben tried harder to clarify himself. "I haven't really sorted out my feelings around this yet. I'm relieved that you feel the way you do and I'm glad we're talking about it. But I think this would be a good thing for me, for us, to get help with, in our sessions with John. It's complicated for me." He couldn't explain better than that, in the moment.
"Just know that I do love J.R. and, well, that's all I can say about it right now." Ben shrugged. He hoped Michael could understand that he wanted to figure this out, but it wouldn't happen that night.
"Okay," Michael finally said. It felt like they had started something very important and it was hard to drop it. But this was a complicated situation, even without the added issue of Ben's HIV status. Ben often got kind of hunkered down and guarded, when issues around his being positive came up. Michael would trust that this was just the beginning of the conversation. He wouldn't let it get buried again.
Ben, Michael and Debbie were driving over to Mel and Lindsay's, for the last time. The day had finally arrived. They were all meeting there to say goodbye. Brian was coming from work. Hunter was at school, having already said his farewells.
When they got there, things went quickly. The car was all packed and the girls were ready to go. Michael asked Ben to help him get J.R. into her quilted snowsuit and then he carried her out to get her settled into her carrier. They kissed her and talked quietly to her, while Brian got Gus settled on his side. Last minute diaper bags, car food and car toys were stowed in handy places.
There was an awkward moment, as the adults stood around the car, then everyone began to give everyone else hugs. Ben reminded the girls to call when they got there and Lindsay made some crack about Michael calling them every five minutes, if they didn't.
Michael just made a face at her.
The car started and the windows rolled down. Everyone waved. Jenny Rebecca started to fuss as they pulled out of the driveway. They walked to the edge of the street and stood there, waving, as her cries faded away.
Ben stood behind Michael, his hands on Michael's shoulders. Deb hugged Brian, drying a couple of her own tears.
"Why don't we all go to my house and have some coffee and cake," she offered.
"I've got to get back to work," Brian said as he headed for his car. "I'll call you later, Michael," he added.
Ben noticed him wipe his eyes, too.
Michael turned from the street at Brian's goodbye and asked Debbie, "Are you working today, Ma?"
"God, yes. I need something to do to keep me occupied so I don't cry all afternoon," Debbie said, blowing her nose.
Michael gave his mom a hug and the three of them walked to the car. "You two are coming to my house, aren't you?" she asked hopefully.
"No, Ma. We have other plans, but we'll stop by tonight for a short visit, after your shift, okay?"
They drove her home. No one said much. Michael sat in the back seat, just staring out the window.
"Do you want something warm to drink?" Ben asked, as they parked. A coffee shop was across the street from the park. They had decided to stop there to take a walk.
"No, thanks, but you go ahead if you want," Michael answered.
"How are you doing?" Ben asked, putting his arm around him.
"I don't know. I don't feel much of anything. It'll probably hit me later."
They walked a while, in silence. A few snowflakes began to fall.
"I think that instead of 'living in the now,' I've been living for the now to just 'hurry up and get the hell over with,'" Michael said.
"In Buddhism, one of the basic teachings is, 'to live life is to suffer,'" Ben began. "I've always had a hard time with that." He glanced over at Michael to try and read if this was an appropriate time for this sort of talk. Michael was looking at him and seemed interested, so Ben continued.
"The most useful way for me to understand and use that teaching is to accept that life is a flow of events that are mostly out of my control. Many of them will cause me suffering, but if I can just let life wash over and around me, give up the illusion that I have control, then I will be stronger and better for it."
"It's hard for me to see that, right now," Michael responded, shaking his head and frowning.
"We're sort of still being tossed around by the flood. It's hard to be in the suffering and trust in that," Ben agreed.
"What have you learned from the past five months?" Michael asked, curious, but not challenging him.
"I've learned just how very far from enlightenment I am," Ben replied, smirking, but then went on more seriously, "I guess, for starters, I've been reminded to be thankful for you and Hunter being in my life every day, to not take you for granted. I'm learning to ask for help. I've learned that my anger hurts me far more than the person I'm angry at. That we have a lot of good friends and family that care about us."
He stopped and turned to Michael and took both of his hands. "I've learned that you have incredible strength and a capacity for love that I'm in awe of. I depend on it to ground me, maybe too much." Ben paused, taking in the handsome face and dark eyes that he loved so much.
"I guess I'll have to suffer more, to learn more about that, as our life goes on together." He stopped, unable to continue, for the lump in his throat.
Michael just stood, looking back into his eyes. The snow was falling harder now, and Ben watched as flakes caught on Michael's hair. He felt them melt on his own face, little pricks of ice cold.
Michael leaned forward and tipped his face up for a kiss. A flake fell on his lip and melted. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips or to taste the flake. Ben couldn't know which.
Michael closed his eyes and cupped Ben's face with his warm hand. They kissed and Michael used both arms to pull him closer. They kissed, long and deep, as big, wet flakes fell on and around them.
Finally releasing him, Michael said, "Let's go home."
End of "Recovery" by uuthrunthru -- email