Alex muttered an apology and pushed his cart along, sighing a little in
exasperation. He had wanted to check out the mushrooms himself, and carrots, he
definitely needed carrots. Alex bit his lip and looked down at his list as he
walked. He decided to move on and swing back by the produce department later,
in hopes it might be less crowded then. He had to navigate carefully, threading
his way through the throngs of shoppers, his hand drumming impatiently on the
cart as he waited for the slow-moving customers to get out of his way. Alex
shook his head. He felt a little out of place in his leather jacket and boots,
amongst the people just getting off work, roaming the aisles in their business
suits, and the young mothers shepherding their children through the maze of
brightly colored boxes, bottles and cans.
Alex managed to find a place along the wall where he could park his shopping
cart and try to plan his strategy. The crowd continued to stream past. The
supermarket's horrid Muzak system, which Alex had begun heartily to hate within
five minutes of arriving, began to blare an instrumental version of Barry
Manilow's "I Write the Songs."
Somewhere, a baby began to cry.
Moments later, a second baby joined in, from somewhere in the direction of
the bakery.
A strident voice, definitely issuing from the garish bowels of the candy
aisle, rose above the din.
"Joshua James, I said NO!"
Alex's hands tightened on the shopping cart handle.
How in hell did people do this week in and week out? He'd only been
there an hour and he was ready to blast his way out, if only Walter would let
him carry something more lethal than a Swiss army knife. Alex sighed. He knew
there was a good reason why he always avoided these oversized, overlit,
overeverything places, and he was glad Fox seemed content to be the
member of the household responsible for this particular chore.
Except today.
Today, Alex was doing the shopping, for a special occasion.
He looked down and smiled for the first time since arriving at this bustling
center of consumerism.
A very special occasion.
Early that morning...
They were lying in bed together, cozy under the eiderdown Walter had just
retrieved from storage in the attic.
Fox and Walter were talking happily of Thanksgiving Day and the bounty of
televised football it would bring.
"Man, the Broncos and the Cowboys!" Fox said with a grin. "I can't wait!"
"If you let the turkey burn like you did last year, you'll be eating your
dinner standing up," Walter mock-growled.
"It wasn't that bad, Walter!" Fox protested. "It just got a little dark on
top. I couldn't help it, the Redskins were going for a touchdown!"
"You were supposed to be basting," Walter said mildly, ruffling Fox's already
tousled chestnut hair. "Not running into the living room every five minutes to
check the score."
"It's not fair," Fox groused, "why can't we move the little TV from the study
into the kitchen? Just for the day? Then we could keep one eye on the game
while we cook."
"I told you, Fox," Walter explained, stretching and wrapping his arms around
Fox and Alex both. "There's not enough room on the counter as it is, and if we
put it on the table in the breakfast nook we'll have to stretch the cord across
the floor and I don't want to take a chance on one of us tripping over it.
Maybe if we both get up early on Thursday and get some of the prep work done,
we'll have more time in the afternoon to relax and watch the game."
They lay quietly for a moment, Fox pouting even as he moved closer to Walter,
nestling into the crook of his arm.
Suddenly, Alex's soft voice broke the silence.
"I want to do it."
Walter lifted his head a little.
"Do what, Rat?"
Alex leaned up on one elbow, his green eyes beginning to sparkle with
excitement.
"I want to cook the meal. I'll get up early, do the shopping, and then
tomorrow, I'll take care of everything. I'll do it all. You and Fox can sit
back and enjoy the game."
Walter thought for a moment.
"That's a lot of work for one person, Alex."
"Yeah," Fox chimed in. "And...don't take this the wrong way, but, well, you
don't cook much."
Alex nodded.
"I know, Fox, but I can do it. I really can. We've got all those cookbooks
in the kitchen, and I can sit down and make a list of everything I need, so I
can be sure not to forget anything when I go to the supermarket." He paused.
"Besides, it's not as though I'm interested in watching the Broncos game."
Walter laughed. Alex was an inveterate soccer snob, and his dislike of
American football was certainly no secret. He had to admit, as much as he had
always enjoyed preparing the Thanksgiving meal with Fox and Alex's help, the
thought of a relaxing afternoon in front of the television sounded too good to
resist.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I don't see why not—"
"Thanks, Walter!" Alex exclaimed. "Is it all right with you, Fox?"
He watched Fox anxiously.
"Well, sure," Fox said with a grin. "But, like Walter said, it's a
lot of work, Alex. It just doesn't seem fair for you to have to do it all."
Alex looked down, hiding a shy smile as he twined his fingers together with
Fox's.
"I want to do it," he said again. "You and Walter, I can't express in words
what you mean to me, what you've given me." He looked around the room, his eyes
shining with emotion. "Life, love, a home...you've given that to me, both of
you. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I want to do this for you, to show you how
thankful I am for you, every day, for every moment we share together."
Alex felt Fox's hand squeeze his, felt Walter's strong arm tighten around
him.
"You've got it," Walter said softly. "If that's what you want, if it'll make
you happy, then you've got it."
"Yep!" Fox added happily. "You've got it. Are football snacks included
too?"
Alex laughed and kissed Fox, nibbling playfully at his full lower lip.
"Sorry, you're on your own, my friend. I'll be busy cooking a feast for my
two insatiable lovers."
"I'll show you insatiable," Walter said with a growl, rolling over and
trapping his gorgeous young brats under him.
Alex smiled again as he crossed the next-to-last item off of his list, rather
pleased with himself for getting almost every item he needed without killing
anyone.
He looked up at the overflowing checkout lines and reminded himself that he
wasn't out of the woods yet.
He eyed the contents of his heaping cart appreciatively. He'd charmed the
girl behind the bakery counter out of her last three loaves of day-old bread,
eschewing the bagged stuffing mix and insisting instead on doing it the
old-fashioned way, or at least, what the cookbook had said was the old fashioned
way. He had fought his way back down the produce aisle, wedging himself in
between a thin, brittle woman yammering on a cellphone and a couple of college
girls stocking up on tofu and sprouts. He'd emerged triumphant, carrots and
mushrooms in hand, and had added extra celery and onions to the cart just in
case. He had chosen generously from the bin filled with plump, glistening
cranberries before hefting a ten pound bag of Yukon Gold potatoes and sliding it
onto the rack beneath the cart. He had then made a stop in the gourmet foods
section for some foie gras, hesitating only briefly before adding a small tin of
caviar to his purchases.
Walter would frown and say it was an extravagance, but Alex didn't care. He
was determined that this was going to be the best meal his lovers had ever
eaten. Nothing was too good for Walter and Fox.
Alex checked the list once again. Rolls, check. Fresh butter, check.
Pumpkin pie filling, check. Cherry pie filling (Fox's favorite), check. Pie
shells, check. His eyes passed over the ready-made crusts guiltily, then moved
on. He wanted to do as much of the dinner himself as possible, but making a pie
crust from scratch? He wasn't crazy. Even a highly trained ex-assassin
had to realize when he was in over his head.
He folded the list neatly and tucked it into his pocket, giving it a small,
satisfied pat.
There was only one item left, and he set out in search of it, striding boldly
along, head held high, the wheels of his cart squeaking purposefully.
It was time to find The Perfect Turkey.
Walter looked up from his newspaper as Fox went to the living room window
again.
"Is he back yet?" Walter asked amiably, turning the page.
"No," Fox sighed, leaving the window and perching on the arm of the sofa.
"He's been gone an awfully long time, Walter. Don't you think he should be back
by now?"
Walter looked up and smiled, seeing the beginnings of worry in those
beautiful hazel eyes. He put his hand on Fox's thigh and squeezed gently.
"Don't worry, Fox. He'll be fine. I'm sure the supermarket is pretty
crowded. It is the day before Thanksgiving, after all."
Alex shifted from one foot to the other, leaning on the handle of his cart,
not bothering to hide his impatience.
He had expected that there would be a crowd around the turkeys, but this was
ridiculous.
He'd been standing there for fifteen minutes and he'd yet to even see
a turkey, largely because of Her.
The Her in question was a round, matronly woman who had parked herself
directly in front of the case of fresh turkeys, blocking almost everyone else,
and had proceeded to heft each one and examine it closely, poking it and
squeezing it, before discarding it and picking up the next one.
Alex gritted his teeth and counted to ten as she sighed, shook her head,
still unsatisfied, and reached a chubby hand into the case again.
He could understand someone wanting to find The Perfect Turkey, especially
since he was seeking one himself, but did she have to take so long?
Suddenly, when the woman bent over to shore up a sagging stocking, Alex
spotted it.
The turkey.
The turkey by which all other turkeys are measured.
Turkis Fantasticus.
It was easily the biggest one in the case, plump, round and mouth-watering,
even raw and in the wrapper.
Alex knew he had to have it.
Suddenly, this vision of poultry perfection was obscured as the woman
straightened up and began sorting through the turkeys again. Alex craned his
neck, leaning this way and that, trying to see around her, but her drab brown
overcoat blocked everything out.
He sighed, tapping one booted foot, distracting himself by picturing himself
at the table on Thanksgiving Day, proudly carving his succulent masterpiece as
Walter and Fox looked on in awe. He smiled happily.
The smile faded from his face as the woman's pudgy hands seized the turkey.
The turkey!
His turkey!
Alex's breath felt trapped in his lungs. He heard his own heartbeat loud in
his ears as she held the turkey up close to her face, squinting at the label.
She squeezed it, turning it this way and that, nodding to herself.
Alex's eyes narrowed, focused intently on the square inch of skin at the
junction of her neck and shoulder.
He smiled, exposing a row of perfect white teeth.
It was not a friendly smile.
If the woman had seen it, she would have undoubtedly dropped the bird and
taken to her heels.
Alex cocked his head, his jade green eyes glittering.
He'd learned a nasty little trick one hot summer in Algiers. Just one little
pinch, right...there...and it would be lights out.
It wouldn't really hurt her, he reasoned. Those sacks of flour nearby would
break her fall and she'd wake up in about ten minutes, which would give him
enough time to grab The Turkey and-
Aw, hell.
Alex frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. His butt, seemingly
determined to take over where his brain had failed, was beginning to tingle with
its own version of the Early Warning System.
Reluctantly, Alex waited, scowling at the woman's back. He knew what Walter
would say-and do-if he knew Alex was even thinking about pulling a stunt like
that. Alex gulped, not exactly eager to get another up-close-and-personal view
of the carpet in Walter's study. He bit his lip anxiously as the woman
continued to manhandle His Turkey. He held his breath, hoping against hope
that something would make her decide to put it down and move on.
His heart leapt as suddenly, she did.
Apparently deciding the bird was too large, too expensive, too something, she
replaced it, selected another one and finally rolled her cart away.
Alex lunged for his prize before anyone else could.
It rode next to him in the passenger seat on the way home, in a place of
honor.
Fox heard the back door open and wandered toward the kitchen, munching an
apple as he did.
"Walter! He's back!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"Okay!" Walter called from the study. "See if he needs help bringing
everything in, Fox!"
"Okay," Fox said around a mouthful of apple, walking into the kitchen and
nearly colliding with Alex, who was staggering under the weight of two very full
paper bags.
"Here, let me help you," Fox said, reaching for one.
"No, I've got it," Alex said quickly, dropping the bags onto the counter with
a groan.
"How much more have you got to bring in?" Fox asked, craning his neck to see
the bags on the back porch.
"It's cool, really," Alex said, shoving his hair out of his eyes. He looked
down, suddenly embarrassed. "I...well, could you give me a minute? I really
worked hard picking the main course out and I want to surprise you and Walter."
Fox smiled at the unusual request. On anyone else, it would seem fussy, if
not downright strange, but the look of excitement on Alex's face made him look
like an eager little boy. Fox could refuse Alex nothing when he looked like
that.
"I'll be in the study with Walter, trying to pry him away from his
paperwork," Fox said with a grin, tossing his apple core into the trash with a
neat overhand shot. "Hah, two points!"
"Very good," Alex said with a grin of his own. "Now go, and I'll call you
when I'm ready."
"Okay, okay," Fox grumbled good-naturedly, ambling toward the study.
A few minutes later, Alex poked his head out of the kitchen door and called
to Walter and Fox.
"Come on, guys! Come and see what you've got to look forward to tomorrow!"
Fox laughed as he and Walter made their way to the kitchen.
"You, hot and buttered?"
Alex chuckled.
"That's dessert, lover," he said huskily, licking his lips for added effect.
"This," he added, throwing his arms wide, "is the main event!"
Walter and Fox walked into the kitchen, where Alex had placed the
still-wrapped turkey on the table.
"Feast your eyes on this," he said proudly. "It's the best one in the whole
store. I thought I was gonna have to fight for it." He snapped his fingers
happily. "Hurry up and take a look so I can get him in the refrigerator."
Fox nearly choked.
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes bulging out.
"Fox," Walter admonished gently, "you—"
He broke off as his own eyes flew open wide. "Holy shit!"
They stared at the turkey.
It was the biggest turkey either of them had ever seen.
"Oh my God!" Fox hollered. "It's the Turkey That Ate Washington!" He
clutched at himself and began to giggle madly. "Are you expecting the Waltons,
Alex?"
Alex's happy face took on a crestfallen look.
"I just wanted the best one," he said stubbornly. "It's big, yeah, but we
can have leftovers! That's what you do at Thanksgiving!"
Fox laughed until he was winded, then he collapsed into a kitchen chair,
wiping his eyes.
"How much does that thing weigh? Fifty pounds?"
"Twenty-three," Alex said tartly. "None of the others came close."
"I should imagine not," Fox hooted, breaking into fresh peals of laughter.
"This one probably ate the competition! Leftovers! Walter, we'll be eating
turkey until we grow feathers!"
Alex folded his arms and glared at Fox.
"Fox," Walter said firmly, walking over to Alex and taking him into his arms.
Alex stood stiffly at first, then gave in, wrapping himself around Walter and
burying his burning face in Walter's shirt.
"I just wanted the best one for you," he mumbled again.
"And you definitely got the best one," Walter soothed, rubbing Alex's back.
"Fox is just teasing you."
"Sure I am," Fox said brightly, patting the immense bird fondly. "I love
ostrich...er, I mean, turkey!" He giggled madly.
Walter sent him a look that clearly meant Enough.
Fox stopped giggling. He stood, shuffling his feet a little, and then walked
over to Alex. He waited until Alex raised his head, his green eyes just wounded
enough to make Fox feel like a total heel.
"I'm sorry, Alex," Fox said sheepishly, leaning down for a kiss. He pressed
his lips gently against Alex's and was heartened when Alex slowly responded. "I
was only kidding. I know you spent all day getting the stuff for our meal and
the turkey is gorgeous. I know it's going to be delicious."
Alex brightened a little.
"Thanks," he said softly, glancing at the turkey. "I guess it is pretty
big." He grinned. "So I'd better make it good, because we're going to be
eating it til New Year's!"
Fox gave him a playful swat on the butt.
"Okay, you two," Walter rumbled, his eyes shining with love as he pulled his
brats close and kissed each one soundly. "Let's get the turkey in cold storage
and get the rest of these things put away."
Alex rubbed his hands together eagerly as he inventoried all of the
ingredients, then checked the cabinets to make sure all of the baking dishes,
mixing bowls and measuring cups were clean and close at hand. He could hardly
wait to get started.
Thanksgiving Day
Alex had been up since first light. He wanted to be sure nothing went wrong.
It's just one meal, Alex, he chided himself. You're acting like it's the most
important thing in your life. He looked out of the window, the early morning
sun illuminating his face, and sipped his coffee reflectively.
Okay. Maybe not the most important meal in my life. But a meal for the most
important people in my life.
It has to be perfect.
Humming to himself, Alex manned the stove, whisking, sauteing and baking like
a pro. He wiped his hands on the teatowel, checked the time, and took stock of
what he had done so far.
The pumpkin and cherry pies were cooling on the wire rack. The
cranberry-orange salad was chilling in the refrigerator alongside two pitchers
of freshly brewed iced tea. The rolls were rising, most of the chopping,
mincing and slicing was done, and he had just finished cubing the day-old bread
for the stuffing.
The turkey sat in the roasting pan-he'd barely been able to fit it in-washed,
glazed with butter and sprinkled with freshly cracked black pepper. Alex
consulted the cookbook and turned his attention back to the stuffing. He added
the sauteed onion and celery, a beaten egg and a generous dose of sage and
parsley. He was rummaging in the drawer for a large spoon to stir it with when
a line in the cookbook caught his eye.
He read it to himself thoughtfully.
"For a thoroughly blended stuffing and a perfectly stuffed turkey, one has no
better implement than one's own hands."
He thought for a moment, shrugged, then rolled up his sleeves. He washed his
hands, dried them and plunged them into the bowl. It felt pretty strange at
first, but after a moment, he was into the spirit of it, taking care to make
sure all of the ingredients were incorporated. Squelching noises aside, he was
surprised to realize that he was really enjoying himself. Using his hands to
mix seemed so right, so sensible. He could feel the food as he prepared
it for his lovers. He ducked his head and smiled a little, glad his old
Consortium cohorts couldn't see him now. They'd have him in a frilly apron and
pearls. He snorted a little. Yeah, okay. Make all the jokes you want. I'm in
love, dammit, and that's all the excuse I need.
The stuffing well blended, Alex sized up its intended target. He lifted the
flaps of skin and peered into the empty cavity. Everything looked good and
clean, ready to go. He rolled up his sleeves a little higher, took a generous
handful of stuffing, took a deep breath and shoved it in. He worked quickly,
packing the stuffing in, and though eager to get his hands clean and get the
turkey into the oven, he had to admit, being able to feel as he worked made the
job a lot easier. After all, he was trying to create the perfect Thanksgiving
dinner. Getting his hands dirty was just part of the job.
Alex slid the roasting pan into the oven, making sure the cover was on
tightly, and treated himself to a single chocolate chip cookie. He was tempted
to take a second but he held out, not wanting to spoil his appetite.
As the morning turned into afternoon, the house began to fill with the
heavenly aroma of roasting turkey. Fox and Walter sat on the sofa, cheering
lustily as the Broncos scored another touchdown, Fox grumbling at "the popcorn
diet" Alex had them on til dinner. He smiled as he grumbled, though, the
happiness on Alex's face as he prepared their meal more than enough to make up
for the loss of his beloved chips and dip.
At last, six o'clock approached. The three men showered, making full and
very enthusiastic use of their large shower stall, then dressed for dinner.
As they came downstairs into the dining room, each couldn't help but grin at
the sight of his two beautiful lovers dressed in their sexiest clothes.
Walter wore charcoal grey pants with a crisp white shirt that showed off his
healthy tan. The collar was unbuttoned just enough to show a mouth-watering
glimpse of muscular, lightly furred chest.
Fox was resplendent in chocolate brown pants and a cream colored shirt, his
thick, silky hair styled just so. His hazel eyes twinkled as he and Walter
looked at one another, then both raised their eyes to the stairs as Alex made
his entrance.
They couldn't help but gasp.
Alex wore tight black pants that molded to every curve, every long, lean line
of his delectable body. A sheaf of glossy dark hair dipped rakishly over one
eye. His shirt was silk of the deepest emerald green, which perfectly matched
his eyes, as well as the single emerald stud he wore in one ear.
For a moment, they all just stood and admired one another, scarcely
breathing, until Alex broke the silence.
"I'd say we have a lot to be thankful for," he said with a smile, slipping
his arms around Fox and Walter's waists.
"Mmm," Walter replied, leaning down to nuzzle and kiss Alex's neck, "you're
right, and after dinner, I'm going to show you both just how thankful I am.
All..."
Lick.
"...night..."
Nuzzle.
"...long..."
Kiss.
"Come on," Alex said, laughing, tugging them by the hands. "Let's eat!"
Alex stood, beaming, at the head of the table, the carving knife in his hand.
He looked down the long dining room table, beautifully decked out in a cream
colored tablecloth with a gold runner, lit with cranberry colored candles which
lent everything in the room a subtle golden glow. He paused and just savored
the moment. Everything was exactly as he'd pictured it.
Walter and Fox, both so gorgeous, so happy, so proud of him. The table so
beautiful, every plate, every glass, every utensil perfectly placed. The
serving dishes strategically spaced along the table, each brimming with a
different delicacy. The chilled bowl of caviar next to the plate of thinly
sliced foie gras, artfully arranged.
And the turkey...
Alex looked down at it, truly stunned at his good fortune. Never having
attempted such a feat before, he was delighted to have hit a home run his first
time out of the box. The turkey was simply a masterpiece. Plump and perfectly
browned, the crackling golden skin came away to reveal tender, juicy, pristine
white meat beneath. Alex carved carefully, trying to remember the diagram in
the cookbook, and soon the serving plate was piled high with the moist,
succulent breast meat. He scooped out the stuffing and heaped it into a crystal
bowl, rounding the top off neatly.
"Okay," he said, a little nervously. "Dig in!"
They ate slowly, leisurely, savoring every morsel. Alex was more relaxed
than Walter and Fox had seen him in weeks. He laughed, his eyes sparkling in
the candlelight, and glowed with pleasure as Walter and Fox exclaimed over the
meal, eating every morsel on their plates and begging for more. The rolls were
fluffy and soft, piping hot, and the mashed potatoes were an almost guilty
pleasure, smooth and dripping with butter. The stuffing was moist and perfectly
seasoned, and disappeared quickly, generously covered with Alex's light, savory
turkey gravy.
At last, it was time for dessert.
Fox helped himself to a huge wedge of cherry pie.
"Ohhh," he said, closing his eyes as he swallowed the first forkful. "Oh,
Alex. You've been holding out on us."
"It's nothing fancy," Alex said, blushing in spite of himself.
"Nonsense," Walter said, already contemplating his second piece of pumpkin
pie. "It might be canned filling but this streusel topping...I've never had
pumpkin pie like this. What did you do?"
Now really feeling like June Cleaver, Alex looked down, his cheeks growing
redder.
"Aw, it wasn't much," he said, unable to suppress a grin. "Just butter,
brown sugar and chopped pecans. I thought it would make it, well, more
special."
Walter smiled rapturously as his lips closed around another forkful of the
delicious pie.
"Mmm, it is that," he agreed. "I'm so proud of you, Alex. You know that I
was worried that this was way too much work for one person, especially someone
whose usual idea of cooking is microwaved burritos. But you've truly outdone
yourself, Rat. This is absolutely the best meal I have ever had, and the most
beautiful night we've ever shared."
Alex looked up, tears bright in his eyes.
"Thank you," he breathed.
Fox stood and walked over to Alex, leaned down and kissed him tenderly. Alex
closed his eyes, savored the faintly tart taste of cherries on Fox's lips.
"Walter's right," Fox said, returning to his chair. "This has been an
incredible night. The food...us...it's all like a dream."
Alex's smile felt like it would split his face in two.
Walter pushed his chair back and patted his belly.
"I think I need to let these pants out a little," he said with a wink.
"Suddenly they seem about two sizes too small."
"Me, too," Fox agreed, patting his own slightly rounded stomach. "I feel
like I need to run about fifty miles to work off all this wonderful food!"
Alex began to stack the empty plates, only to have the big man immediately
hold up his hand.
"Whoa! You can stop right there, Alex. You did all the cooking,
we'll do all the cleaning."
Alex opened his mouth to argue, then paused. He had been up since dawn, and
he really was pretty tired.
"What time is it?" Fox asked, gently piling the silverware on an empty
serving platter. "The Sci-Fi Channel is running a Prisoner marathon tonight."
Alex glanced down at his wrist.
"It's—"
He froze.
Walter and Fox watched in surprise as all the color seemed to drain from
Alex's face.
"What is it, Alex? Did you forget your watch?" Fox asked, continuing to
clear the table.
"N-no..." Alex stammered, his eyes huge.
"What's wrong, Alex?" Walter asked, concerned. "You look like you've seen a
ghost."
"I...I had it on but it's gone," Alex whispered.
"Oh, well," Fox said cheerfully. "It's no big deal. I think we've got
plenty of time before the show starts. When was the last time you remember
having the watch on?"
Alex stared at the turkey.
Slowly, Walter's and Fox's eyes were drawn to it too and held there in
horrified fascination.
"You mean, when you were..." Fox began.
"Stuffing the turkey," Alex finished sadly. "Oh my God."
"Alex, it's all right," Walter said, seeing the miserable look on Alex's
face. "If it's in there, it's probably fine. We'll get your watch cleaned up
and—"
"It's not my watch!" Alex blurted, his eyes fastened on the tablecloth.
"It's...it's yours, Walter!"
Walter stared at him in shock.
"My watch?" he repeated in amazement. "You mean the one my father
gave me?"
Alex nodded, his lower lip trembling. He stared down at his hands as he
spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Walter, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...I was getting ready
to come downstairs this morning and I went to put my watch on and then I
remembered I'd left it in my locker at the gym. I wanted to be sure that
everything was timed perfectly, I wanted the meal to be just right, everything
planned down to the last second." He slumped in his chair, his head bowed
sadly. "I grabbed yours off the dresser and just slipped it on. I didn't
think...I just didn't think," he finished awkwardly.
There was silence for a moment.
Fox cleared his throat and flipped on the overhead light in order to see
better. He picked up the long meat fork, peered into the turkey and began to
dig around carefully.
"There's a good bit of stuffing still in here," he said thoughtfully, poking
deeper with the fork. "I can see how you might have...ah, I think I've got it."
Walter and Alex watched grimly as Fox pulled the fork from the cavity and
held it up. Dangling from the tines was Walter's watch, thickly encrusted with
cooked stuffing.
"I'm sorry!" Alex cried, clapping a hand over his mouth and running from the
room.
Fox dropped the fork and watch on the table and turned to go after him.
Walter put a restraining hand on his arm, gently holding him back.
"Don't," he said quietly.
Fox looked stricken.
"But Walter, you know what he's going to do! He's scared and upset and he's
going to bolt—"
"No, he's not," Walter said softly. He motioned to Fox to sit down. Fox
reluctantly obeyed. Walter took Fox's hand in his.
"He's not going to run, not this time," Walter said with conviction. "I know
he's scared and I know he's going to want to. But after what happened last
time...he's learned, Fox. I believe that. And we need to believe in him. He
just needs a little time. That's all."
Fox looked at the closed dining room door, chewing his lip doubtfully.
"Okay," he said at last. "The look on his face when he realized...he was so
happy tonight, Walter. And so were you." He picked up Walter's watch, holding
it over his plate as he tried to scrape the worst of the stuffing off.
Walter watched silently, his eyes on the watch that was the last gift his
father had given him before he died.
"I know how much it means to you," Fox whispered. "I think we can fix it.
I've heard of this happening before. These old watches, they don't make them
like this anymore. No plastic in this baby."
Walter nodded and smiled a little. His heart hurt as he looked at the watch
in Fox's hands, barely recognizable as the keepsake he had treasured all these
years. He thought of Alex, of the pain in his green eyes when he ran from the
room. He ached for his little Rat, for the special evening that had meant so
much to them all. But the watch...that was a hard thing. Alex hadn't meant for
it to happen, hell, of course he hadn't. But it was the only thing Walter had
left of his Daddy. If it couldn't be fixed, it was going to take him some time
to truly get over it.
Walter stood and laid his hand on Fox's head, stroking the soft hair gently.
"Thanks, Fox," he said quietly. "I'm going to go look for him. You'll get
started in here?"
Fox nodded, smiling up at Walter.
"You bet," he said. "I've got it covered."
Walter had to admit to himself a growing sense of worry as he moved from room
to room, and no sign of Alex.
He wouldn't, Walter thought to himself, peering into the living room and
then climbing the stairs. He couldn't possibly run again, not after last time.
He's learned now, I know he has.
Walter paused outside the spare room, the one they kept closed off and
unheated. There was nothing in there but boxes of Christmas ornaments and old
clothes. Surely Alex wouldn't...
A blast of cold air hit him as he turned the knob and opened the door.
He stepped inside and gasped, his relief almost overcoming his concern.
Alex was standing in the corner, his nose pressed against the wall.
Naked.
"Alex, Jesus!" Walter shouted, rushing over to him.
Alex didn't look up. He stood, his arms wrapped around himself, staring at
the wall. There were fresh teartracks on his face and he was shivering.
Walter cursed and rushed into the bedroom, grabbing Alex's heavy winter
bathrobe and hurrying back into the spare room.
"S-s-sorry, Walter," Alex said, his teeth chattering. "I r-ruined your
watch, and I ruined tonight, and I—"
"Shhh," Walter said, wrapping the bathrobe around Alex and tying the belt
quickly. "Let's get you out of here."
Walter led Alex into the bedroom, pausing at the top of the stairs to shout
down to Fox.
"Fox! Come upstairs!"
Walter bundled Alex into bed, robe and all, and covered him with the
eiderdown. Alex turned and buried his face in the pillow, too ashamed to meet
Walter's eyes.
Fox appeared in the doorway, breathless, his eyes wide. Walter gestured
toward Alex's huddled form.
"He was in the spare room."
Walter began to strip off his clothes and Fox followed suit. Once they were
naked, they climbed into bed with Alex, one on either side. Walter tugged Alex
toward him until his head was lying on Walter's chest.
"Alex," Walter said softly. "What am I going to do with you? It's
twenty-five degrees outside! Whatever possessed you?"
Alex snuffled and burrowed deeper into Walter's embrace.
"Sorry," he said again. "Punish me, Walter. I deserve it. The watch is all
you have from your Dad and I...I..." he trailed off, unable to give voice to the
awful thing he had done.
Walter said nothing, just rocked Alex gently.
Fox spooned up close behind Alex and rested his head on Alex's shoulder.
"You didn't mean it, baby," he whispered. "Walter knows that."
"He's right," Walter said, dropping a kiss on Alex's dark head. "I know you
didn't mean it. I'm upset about the watch, of course, but, Alex," he paused and
waited until Alex raised haunted green eyes to his, "I'm more upset about you,
about how distraught you are over it."
"It can be fixed, Alex," Fox added. "I'm sure it can be. I got almost all
the stuffing off, and tomorrow we can take it up to the jewelers and get it
cleaned and repaired."
Alex nodded sadly.
"Our night..." he said miserably. "It was so perfect—"
"Yes, it was," Walter said firmly, "and it still is." Alex tried to look
away again but Walter grasped his chin firmly and looked deep into his eyes.
"It was a perfect night, Alex. And that's how I'm going to remember it.
And that's how I hope you remember it, too."
"I can't believe I didn't realize it was gone," Alex whispered forlornly.
"You were in a frenzy in that kitchen," Fox joked, trying to lighten the
mood. "I could hear the pots and pans banging all the way upstairs. It was
just an accident, Alex, it could have happened to anyone."
Alex bit his lip.
"I guess..." he said, gazing at Walter regretfully. "Are you going to punish
me?"
"For an accident?" Walter asked. "Of course not. You borrowed my watch, and
even though you didn't ask first, I see no reason to punish you. We share
everything, and it's perfectly natural that, absent your own watch, you might
slip mine on just for the day. You had no way of knowing it would slip off and
end up in the turkey."
Alex looked down, a little color coming back into his cheeks.
He looked up again quizzically.
"I guess we'll laugh about this one day?"
Walter grinned and hugged Alex close to him.
"One day, Rat," he said, kissing Alex soundly. "One day."
"How about now?" Fox asked with a smirk. "Just think of the mileage I can
get out of this, Ratboy."
"Oh, no," Alex groaned, sinking down into the pillows.
"Save it for later, Fox," Walter said, giving Fox a light swat on the rump.
"Okay, okay," Fox mumbled, "I get the hint."
"And as for you," Walter said, eyeing Alex sternly. "Are you warm yet?"
"Yes, Walter," Alex answered, his eyes wide. "Thank you."
"All right, then," Walter replied, sitting up and flipping the bedclothes
down. "You can leave the robe on, but lift it up and get over my knee."
"Huh?" asked Alex, genuinely perplexed. "B-but you said you wouldn't punish
me for the watch."
"I'm not punishing you for the watch," Walter said, guiding Alex over his
knee and tugging the heavy robe out of the way to expose Alex's bare bottom.
"I'm punishing you for standing naked in a freezing cold room. That comes under
the heading of endangering yourself, not to mention just plain foolish, and you
know what happens now."
"Yes, Walter," Alex gulped, clutching the bedclothes. "I'm sorry."
"You'll be sorrier than that if you get a cold," Walter growled, lifting his
hand. "Because as soon as you're well again, you'll be getting another
spanking."
Alex squeezed his eyes shut tight as Walter's hand smacked down
authoritatively.
"Ouch!"
"Quiet down, Rat," Walter cautioned, "you've got fourteen more to go."
Walter laid them down hard and fast, rapidly turning Alex's pale bottom
bright red. By the time the fourteenth swat landed, Alex was sobbing and
squirming.
"Ow, Walter, ow, I'm sorry!" he yelped. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"
"Good," Walter said, anchoring Alex firmly over his knee as he dealt the
fifteenth and final swat directly on the sit spot. "Make sure you don't, or
you'll be right back over my knee. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Walter." Alex sniffled.
Walter helped Alex to lift himself off his lap and to lie down on his
stomach. Alex closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Fox got up, then climbed
back in with the bottle of aloe. As Fox began to spread the cooling gel on his
burning cheeks, Alex felt Walter stroking his hair softly, rubbing gentle
circles on his back.
"Love you, Walter, Fox," Alex whispered.
"Love you too," Fox answered, squeezing out more aloe. "How does that feel?
Better?"
"Mmm, yes," Alex answered. "Better."
Walter leaned down, rested his cheek against Alex's head.
"Love you, little Rat," he said, his deep voice rumbling.
Alex opened his eyes. Walter raised his head, caressed Alex's cheek gently.
"I'm thankful for you, for everything you do and everything you are. Thank
you for loving us. For sharing yourself with us. Thank you for tonight and for
every night."
Alex's smile was brilliant.
"I'm thankful for you and Fox, too. I'm thankful every day of my life."
Fox capped the bottle of aloe and snuggled in between them, turning his head
first one way and then the other for a sweet kiss.
"We all have a lot to be thankful for," he said softly.
End
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Watch Out
by Lorelei
It was the day before Thanksgiving and the supermarket was crowded with
last-minute shoppers. Alex placed the celery and onions he'd selected into his
cart and carefully marked the items off his list. He felt someone nudge him,
none too gently, and moved aside for an elderly woman intent on examining the
cauliflower. He heard an irritated grunt behind him and realized he had just
stepped on the foot of the man beside him, an Asian gentleman who had been
picking through the bin of fresh mushrooms.
