Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ All I Have ❯ Good Enough ( Chapter 20 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: Please leave a comment!

: Good Enough :

It was a relief, a large sensation of comfort to find himself looking at Andy the next day. He'd received a call from the man, who warily admitted to reading his letter. To save himself some embarrassment over what he considered slop in a hasty situation, Adam told him he'd meet him the next day, and told Andy the location and when. It was when he was sure Ian and the others were checking in for the day, and at a comfortable café he'd discovered that was unbiased to the couples using the tables for privacy. The windows were covered by draping fabric that kept the California sun from irritating those sitting nearest to them, and at the table in back, Adam knew their privacy was well kept by the design of the building. No one could peek in unexpectedly to see him talking to Andy without pretenses.

Seeing the man dressed in a plain t-shirt and blue jean shorts, with a comfortable pair of hiking sandals over unclothed feet caused a strong feeling in the pit of his gut. He found the man very physically appealing, his own body reacting strongly just at the sight of him. But at the same time, it was as if he'd won some battle, and now that he'd reaped the rewards, Adam felt at a loss as to what to do to enjoy it. Anxiety made him jittery, throat clogging with unexpected humility as he found himself staring intently at Andy, the other seating himself opposite him with flushing cheeks of his own.

“You read my letter,” he said in greeting, Andy looking at him with a spreading smile. “I hate games. Or even beating around things. But yesterday was a stupid fiasco.”

“I found…condoms…and lube by my bed,” Andy sputtered with embarrassment. “That aren't even mine—!”

“It was that stupid kid—kids,” Adam muttered, inwardly embarrassed, looking down briefly.

Andy gave a nervous clearing of his throat. “Um, why—?”

“Never mind. I, uh, couldn't talk. Then. Because of…her, and of Ian…spying. Uh—”

“I—I don't understand. Why would—?”

“Because he's a snoopy bastard and he knows something's up.” Adam waved it away.

“Adam, I—”

“I want to fix things,” Adam interrupted again. He caught himself with a grimace, aware he was bulldozing again. But he looked at Andy again, determined to say what he couldn't say in his hasty letter, and to make sure the other man had clear knowledge of his intentions. “I meant what I said down there. You mean something to me. Above it all. We should continue what was going on before all that stupid shit started.”

Flustered at the direct command, Andy stared at him for a few moments, trying to formulate a response.

“Yeah, there's that thing with Ian, but what you said made me realize that—to be stuck like that is…will…is nothing more than…stupidity,” Adam said, furrowing his brow. He squared his shoulders and felt himself tensing. “But I'm attracted to you. You are more realistic.”

Andy wasn't sure how to take that, muttering, “Uh…thanks…?”

“There's a lot about you, Andy, that is…uh…favorable. To me. Not just…not just looks, I guess,” Adam mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward. “Everything. You say things to me that's—that—hasn't been said. I guess.”

Seeing how uncomfortable Adam seemed, Andy told himself not to take offense to some of the words that were being said. It was clear Adam wasn't comfortable expressing himself in such ways; something Andy wasn't used to. The relationships he'd had involved boys that saw a coupling as a fun, mutual decision. Not a command or maneuver.

He reached for one of the glasses of water sitting nearby, inwardly wondering where a waiter was to interrupt this awkward air between them. He sipped at the cold liquid and frowned at the taste of tap. He shoved it aside and wiped his hands on his shorts. “Um, well, I think it's because—”

“Do you think we could start over?” Adam interrupted, giving Andy a look that dared him to object. “Because it's different now. You're here, today. You didn't show or say anything negative about my intentions yesterday.”

“Oh, I—”

“Because it would be awkward,” Adam continued. Clearing his throat, he said quickly, “For Sam, to know what he knows now. If nothing is fixed.”

Andy couldn't help but give a strangled laugh. “You don't have to threaten me to—”

“I'm just being clear. And direct. I'm not going to—”

“Adam, we can,” Andy interrupted gently. “There's no forgetting what happened, but—”

“I'll stay away from alcohol,” Adam said quickly, unable to look at him for a moment. “Apparently, I have a low tolerance.”

“Definitely,” Andy murmured in agreement.

Realizing that he was succeeding in getting his way, Adam said, “I want to get to know you and not—learn things about you from others.”

“Me, too, Adam, I—”

“I don't know how to say or do things that'll make you stay,” Adam continued, feeling awkward. “All I've done with other men was fuck `em and leave `em—”

“Adam! Okay,” Andy interrupted, lifting his voice to be heard.

“I'm just making it clear that I don't know what to do—”

“Okay,” Andy repeated again. “I understand. I—I'm willing to work with that.”

Adam exhaled heavily. He started to relax slightly, feeling as if he made Andy understand where he was coming from. Andy licked his lips, waiting for Adam to say anything more and examining Adam's intent expression. Facing him now, Andy couldn't help but compare Adam's verbal bulldozing to something of a military maneuver—he was both amused and threatened by it.

“It's…it's not like I'm asking for a relationship,” Adam then said carefully. “Just to be clear. I wouldn't know what to do with one, but…I want to see where this goes. Where this can go. I'm open to—to whatever.”

“Okay,” Andy said with a nod, fiddling nervously with his thumbnails. Watching that action, it was the first time Adam realized that there was some actuality to the term, twiddling thumbs. Andy's nervous gesture mesmerized him for a few moments. “Adam, I do like you a lot, but let's not treat this as a mission. I would like to work with you as—as a romantic partner, not a squad mate going in for a kill.”

“I realize I lack certain things,” Adam confessed with a furrowed brow, as if perplexed by the very notion.

Andy smiled at him. “I'm sure it'll work itself out.”

“Are you expecting that? Because I've never—”

“Adam, I like you. And I'm going to work with you, not literally, but figuratively over what…over what we can…between us,” Andy said determinedly. “Adam, right now, I'm just—so relieved we're talking right now! And I'm happy that this is so positive, because—because I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Another inward flood of relief hit Adam, and he felt himself start to relax. Seeing the way Andy looked at him, clearly as interested in him as Adam was into him, Adam felt secure and confident. He glanced around them, noting that nobody was attracted in their conversation. Everyone was too engrossed within their own groups to see these two men working something out, and he was grateful for that. He knew he presented an awkward picture in relations, so to know that only he and Andy knew that was a relatively comforting thought.

But as his eyes fell onto a gay couple, both women dressed in business attire and scanning over holographic imagery, he realized he needed to express another thought.

“I want you to know, right now, that I am not `out',” he said, shifting in his seat, to lean both arms on the table and turn a focused gaze on the man opposite him. “I'm not planning to be `out'.”

Andy's blue eyes lit up, almost as if he were relieved that the topic had come up. “Adam, I un—”

“I will not, under any circumstance, lose what I have,” Adam spoke over Andy without pause. “I don't care what you mean to me now, I won't—I will not consider outing myself, and if you—”

“I—!”

“I mean it, Andy!” Adam then insisted vehemently. But his expression softened slightly, feeling decidedly vulnerable as the picture began to become worrisome over various possibilities. Seeing Andy look at him with kind eyes only propelled him forward, like some unsteady creature learning how to walk. There was the will, but the lack of experience was there in shaky steps. “But I, I'm…I'm risking that because…because I want to be with you.”

Andy felt overwhelmed. He looked down at the table, swallowing tightly. He felt completely flattered and fiercely overjoyed in the assurance of Adam's intentions towards him. But he felt insecurity and frustration hit him over his previous emotions.

Adam felt his face shift once he read Andy's facial expressions, at the lingering silence. Anxiety hit him.

“How can it work if—”

“It'll work,” Adam insisted firmly. “There's always a way.”

Andy wanted to laugh, hearing such similar conviction in Sam's earlier insistence of the matter. But he found no other amusement as he thought over his own needs. He was scared to allow himself to be comfortable with the assurance that they could be together, because what if he did something to give Adam away? What if he caused trouble over not enough time spent with him; what if Adam only ended up using him as a convenient toy for him once the newness of their togetherness faded away?

Stupid, he then thought of himself, looking at him. He found Adam's gaze intent, as if the man was waiting for him to continue to fight him. Thinking over such things was arrogant—Adam probably wouldn't like what he'd start to learn. After all, they didn't know each other very well. It wasn't as if they were going to get married, or move in together. It was only the pair of them getting to know each other.

He smiled at him, feeling conflicted and yet excited at the same time.

“If you say so,” he then said.

“Oh, and I also don't want anymore of that,” Adam said with a shake of his head. “That agreeing just to agree bullshit. You have opinions and choices to make with your own free will—but if they turn out to be bothersome to me, I'll let you know.”

Andy laughed at that, but faltered once he realized Adam was serious. Clearing his throat, he said, “Is there a contract or something I need to sign for this?”

“No, don't be stupid. I'm saying things up front. So you're—we're clear on things.”

“I see,” Andy murmured, focusing on the table, running a fingertip over the surface. A touch sarcastically, he asked, “Are there any other special conditions you expect from me?”

Adam stared at him for a few moments. He was truly relieved that he'd gotten his end out, and couldn't quite think over the expectations he was anticipating of Andy.

“No….I don't think so,” he answered, Andy giving him a look. “What? You asked.”

“What if you decide you don't—?”

“Why are you making this so complicated?” Adam asked, frowning.

Andy had to laugh again. “I'm glad we're talking, Adam. But I want this mutually. Not under your orders.”

Adam tightened his lips, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. I know I come off strongly.”

“It's okay.”

Adam looked at Andy again, taking in his appearance. It was exciting that something new was going to happen, that he would have him in ways he'd never thought possible with Ian. It was nerve-wracking to know that someone of his preference wanted him. It almost felt foreign.

An awkward silence descended. When Andy looked at him, Adam then remembered what had bothered him earlier.

“What about Ken?” he asked.

Andy looked confused. “Ken?”

Impatiently, Adam said, “Do you guys have something going on?”

“NO!” Andy said forcefully, giving a startled laugh. Adam liked the sound of it—but it irritated him in that he was being laughed at, so he frowned at him. “No, absolutely not.”

“I just thought—”

“There is nothing on my end,” Andy murmured, feeling an inward twinge at the unexpected question. Remembering his and Ken's confrontation the day before only made him feel guilty in not revealing the whole picture to Adam; but he felt that since it was too new for him, it was something he wasn't going to discuss quite yet. “If you're curious, my last relationship was in high school. Years ago. I've…this is…my first…since then.”

Adam gave him a skeptical look. “You lie.”

“I was too scared of being outed, so I didn't dare try for anything,” Andy confessed. “It's part of why I drank.”

“I see,” Adam said, a little incredulous over the fact that Andy abstained from sexual relations all this time. “No…no special friends or—?”

“No. Well, I…I had my thing here and there for this guy and that, but I never—I wouldn't even dare to make a move or anything. I valued what I had.”

Adam almost felt bad for feeling smug over his position, in having Andy all to himself. But he quelled the feeling, clearing his throat and reaching out to mess with the melting ice cubes in his water. “I'm starving. Are you ready to order?”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Andy asked quietly.

Adam looked irritated with the question. “I've had them for a long time. There are just some things that'll—like I said, I want to move on.”

“Okay,” Andy murmured, unsure of how to feel about that. Knowing that he was possibly competing to have his attention, he felt insecure in that he could hold Adam's attention long enough. Jealousy still remained; the man got to live with Adam, knew almost everything there was about him. He couldn't help but feel this way. “It's…it's almost like having a habit, then. But those can be broken.”

“Yeah…a habit,” Adam mused, finding it fitting. “I'm going back to work, tomorrow. I don't take my cell with me. I know you get lonely.”

Andy wondered how the man knew about that, then figured he'd had diarrhea of the mouth while he was drunk. He wondered what else he'd told the man, feeling embarrassed for revealing such weaknesses to somebody right off the bat.

“So I'll call before and after. Do you text?”

“I'd rather hear someone's voice,” Andy answered.

“I don't so much, anyway. Fingers are too big. They don't make phones for people with big fingers,” Adam muttered, frowning at his phone, which was lying atop of the table. He felt exhausted; as if he'd been talking for days. He signaled for the waiter.

Andy watched him for a few moments, pleasantly caught up in the other's appearance. He felt lucky having a man like Adam interested in him; his physical appearance was completely appealing with his tall frame, his solid muscles. He was almost surprised that he was still physically drawn to him. At the same time, he felt intimidation deep within him; he couldn't forget the night that happened badly.

He watched Adam order for the both of them; inwardly annoyed that he hadn't a choice, but then again he was caught up in his own thoughts. He realized that being face to face with the man forced him to think of so many other different things; his loneliness would be squelched, but was it truly a good thing? Did he really want to have a man he liked bully him into situations that he didn't agree with? Or could he change the man's opinion and manners into something favorable? He wanted to think that he could, finding it a welcome challenge.

Adam looked at him for a confirmation, and Andy quickly nodded in response, something the waiter took with a smile and an assurance that their food would arrive in a timely manner. Realizing that another had deposited a couple of drinks onto the table, Andy took the iced tea with a frown.

“They don't use tap for their iced tea,” Adam said. “I already checked.”

“Good to know,” Andy replied with a smile.

“Adam's an asshole,” Bridgette said aloud, twirling strands of hair around her bare index finger. Their unit was standing at an intersection within the Southern border of the East side, the area popular with shopping. All around them, customers with various purchases crowded the sidewalks, the streets heavy with vehicle traffic. The four of them were walking slowly through the throng, having to lift their voices to be heard amongst each other.

It was nearing the end of their shift, so the night was as bright as it normally was; holographic ads spun through the streets, and people dressed in nightwear paraded around for the nearest restaurant or club.

“I was thinking about that the other day. I like the guy, it's just…he's so used to getting his way, that when he doesn't, he freaks the hell out. He gets really shitty. He does that to Ian when Ian doesn't be good.”

“Private convo!” Larson announced, switching off their communicators. Both he, Jensen and Ian whipped their heads around to watch a group of girls hurry by, giggling and laughing over something someone said. Bridgette scowled.

“You think I'm a control freak…?” Ian muttered, examining the cartridge he'd pulled from his belt and slapping it into place, continuing to break down the sniper build back into rapid-fire assault mode. “Hell, I gotta be sneaky and manipulative just to make sure Adam doesn't run all over me.”

“John's the same way, `cept he's much more stoner nice about it. I swear he puffs on a little somethin'-something.”

“You ever meet his entire family? His dad's a fucking control freak. And his mom's the same way. They're so fucking direct and pushy that you just have to go along with their shit just to survive a visit,” Ian said with a light laugh. “I love those guys. They're awesome. You just see where Adam gets it.”

“Are they Italian, Russian, or something?” Bridgette asked.

“I think a couple of generations ago, Adam said that they came in from some European…place. I don't know.”

“You don't know stuff like that? What's wrong with you? Don't you guys, like, aren't you married?”

“I know guy stuff about another guy. I don't get into girly details about this and that,” Ian said, scoffing.

“Says the guy who spies on other guys!” Bridgette snapped.

Ian gave her a wounded look. “Who said anything about spying?”

“Why are we talking about Byrons?” Jensen asked curiously, looking up from picking dog shit from the bottom of his boot with a straw he'd found in a trashcan. “He ain't even here to argue his side.”

“I'm just saying. Lars was saying what was going down, like, they're mad over Adam having a new friend—”

“Who's a flippin' fairy,” Ian muttered, making sure Sam was out of ear shot, and finding the medic talking to Cooney down the block.

“—and Adam's getting all sneaky about things,” Bridgette finished, pulling her canteen out and taking a measured sip. “First off, Peters, you requested a watch-over on Murphy for the past two days, and while that's awesome in some retrospect, what's the point of you spying on Adam when he's getting all friendly with the guy? What do you suspect?”

“It—I was following protocol.”

“You knew Dost wasn't going to make a move,” Jensen said, flinging the straw back into the trash can, and using the edge of the sidewalk to make sure his boot was cleaner than it was. “You were spying, Peters.”

“I wasn't spying!”

“You think Adam's `mo?” Bridgette asked, giving Ian a curious expression that was also telltale of her exasperation. “You think just because he's friends with the guy, he's all `mo, too?”

“No—!”

“Yes,” Jensen answered with a frown. “Why else would he go out of his way to spy on some guy he doesn't even like?”

“Or make huge efforts to fix his friendship with Adam?” Larson pitched in.

“Yeah—!” Bridgette chimed in, looking surprised.

“Fine!” Ian muttered, frowning at the three of them. “Yes, I think Adam has…and since he's hanging with this guy, I think that—y'know…he's trying something out. Maybe testing the deep, dark waters of homosexuality. It's so nasty to think about, I really don't want to, but at the same time I have to!”

Bridgette cleared her throat, gave a scowl and looked at Jensen. With a deep voice, she commanded, “I will touch your dick and you will touch mine. Together we'll find out whether or not I'm homo.”

“Oh, Eh-dame,” Jensen looked tortured, Larson laughing loudly, Ian scowling at being mocked while Bridgette and Jensen impersonated the two. “Okay fine, you convinced me.”

“Don't touch it like this, or like that, go about it with something like this—”

“I don't think that—I should talk to Sam about it…”

“Oh fuck it. I'll just do it myself.”

Ian used the butt of his weapon against the backs of their helmets, causing them to stumble. “You guys are assholes. I'm telling him both of you were making fun of him.”

“Woo,” Bridgette muttered, waving her hands about. “So scared. So is that it, Peters? You scared your wingman's homo? Conducting secret sexual experiments with the new kid?”

Ian looked outraged she'd even speak of it out loud. “I just think that—”

“Even if he was, who cares?” Jensen asked with a shrug. At the looks he received from the others, he shifted uncomfortably. “Right? I mean…does anybody care if he is?”

“I do,” Bridgette said with a skeptical look.

“I do,” Larson chimed in.

“Why?” Jensen asked them, looking puzzled. “You guys like the guy. What difference does it make his sexual preference?”

“It's just—guys just should be with women, is all,” Bridgette said. “Because that's just how it is. Adam needs a woman to redirect his damn mentality. He needs to know that he isn't in control of everything. A woman can show him that. Another guy can't. He'll probably just make it worse by letting him be a dick, or joining in just to be as big of a dick as he is. You know that wolf pack mentality you men have.”

“Yes, but—”

“I live with the guy,” Larson said. “That's all that needs to be said.”

“You know my feelings on the matter. It's disgusting. I mean, homos are really disgusting. First off, you're born a certain way—you need to stick to that way. None of this trying to be the other gender bullshit. Guys need to be guys, and girls need to be girls. Each needs to be with each other, not their—biological equal. It's what keeps the human race going—”

“As if we'd run out of our populace,” Bridgette muttered, looking around herself.

“I'm just saying, that's how our biological functions were meant to be. We were made a certain way to be a certain way. Anyone that deviates from it is just…completely against our natural design. How can you love the same sex of your gender in a way that's unnatural? It's disgusting. I hate guys that talk with those damn lisps, and wearing tight girls' clothes, and makeup. And they primp like girls! With their ugly hair cuts, their preening and pawing at the mirror, and—”

“You know of this personally?” Jensen asked skeptically.

“You see them on the streets! In bunches! Looking in the windows of these shops and fixing their hair and looking all clean and—Ugh. And those butch bitches? Those fat ones with the loud mouths and the bare faces? It's so wrong. I hate looking at them.”

“Yeah, I hate looking at clean guys!” Bridgette said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“You know what I mean!”

Jensen exhaled heavily at the hate that spewed from the man's mouth, observing the facial expression and the way he spoke. The other two nodded in agreement, none of them thinking any differently.

“It's just sick.” Ian quieted once he saw Sam and Cooney moving in their direction.

“In the end, if it's true,” Jensen muttered, “he's still going to be Adam, even if he likes another man.”

“Ugh, that's inconceivable!” Ian said with disgust. “He's too fucking manly. He doesn't care about stuff like clothes and hair—”

“How many tubes of hair gel does he go through?”

Ian blinked, licking his lips as he eyed Sam's approach, speaking quickly. “I don't even know. It's his hair. It's wonky. And the only time he bitches about clothes is because they don't fit him. BUT he makes a huge deal out of Murphy, so I have my doubts. And I hate having doubts about my friends.”

Bridgette laughed. “What are those Jersey Italians called? Gwee-doughs? HAH! Adam's one of those!”

“You shouldn't have to feel that way about your best friend—”

“It's simply inconceivable!”

“As you wish,” Larson couldn't resist saying, waving at Sam. “Yo, Sam Hill, what's going on with the extra credit? Oh, signing back on.”

“What'd you guys go silent for?” Sam asked him curiously, Cooney pulling out his cigar.

“Discussing grown-up stuff. That's all.”

“I'm not a stupid kid, Edwards. You need to quit that.”

Bridgette snorted. “You sound like them small dogs that yap just to yap, Hill. Didn't you drop a pair, yet?”

“You want to see?” Sam asked her.

There was a chorus of male “Ooh's!” that caused Bridgette to frown. She punched Sam in the groin, the medic bending over uncomfortably at the concept. The others hurried to gain distance from her before she could think to punch them as well.

“You've been getting mouthy, lately!” she admonished.

“S—sorry.”

“I got some feedback regarding the visit yesterday,” Ian said over the activity, slinging his weapon behind him. The others quietly pulled closer to hear what he had to say, Bridgette shoving Sam out of their circle. He quickly maneuvered close to Cooney. “Yoshida and Samsara's actions regarding the death of the Greys still went unfounded by Merrick's people, but we all know they do some things pretty much on their own. Her drunken confession regarding what they did with the Greys causes some doubt on the investigation. Even if she were drunk, she can't quite remember the true cause as to why, and Samsara didn't even offer an explanation of his own. He pretty much went along with Yoshida.”

Sam's brow furrowed. “How'd you know—?”

Quickly, Ian cleared his throat, looking guilty. “Well, anyway, the Greys had been conducting some shady business with south-of-the-border groups, and that's being taken over by the DEA and Alien Immigration Authorities, so that situation's set to the side. NOW, regarding the activity of the other night at the bank, Mr. Steve Dorsal has been on the run since Dost's firing. He's currently off planet, his destination is unknown. But a tip-off told us he did, in fact, purchase something from space to use for Dost against Merrick, but since Dost fired him, he thinks to use it against them both. Unfortunately, that shipment is still in the process of being located, so we aren't really sure what the hell he'd ordered. If Samsara is correct about it being a virus of sorts, Center and Intelligence's organizing a hasty team of disease and outbreak control. As such, anybody here that isn't up to date in their immunizations shots needs to get looked at immediately.”

“Thank you, Mr. PSA,” Cooney muttered. “How you get all that info is something I don't even want to know about. That kid been cleared, then? Byron's new friend?”

Ian made a sound, Sam looking at him. Larson answered quickly, “Completely. Discharged and removed from all the dangerous stuff.”

“…Where is Byrons, anyway?”

“Recovery. He's cleared to come back tomorrow,” Ian answered.

Cooney grunted. “What's wrong with that sissy la-la?”

“Cracked sternum.”

“If that's all the injuries that he got from that wreck and shit, I'm not going to admit I'm impressed.”

“You're such an old man, Cooney,” Bridgette muttered. “Your glory days back in early part of the century must be something hard to forget.”

“Your flattery continues to make me wonder if you're looking for a daddy figure.” Cooney gave her a lecherous expression.

Bridgette reached out to backhand him, startling everyone with the action.

“Can she do that?” Sam asked, horrified as he watched their lead straighten with a guffaw.

“Awkward…our lead's hitting on the only one that's biologically female,” Larson mumbled.

“Makes me want to bleach out my brain,” Jensen muttered back.

Sam shivered.

“Enough! Are we going, or what?” Ian asked, shifting his pack. “Standing here talking all night isn't doing the City good. We're here to protect it and its inhabitants, not gossip like girls.”

Bridgette kicked him, causing him to stumble forward. “You should talk! Asshole!”

“OW! Jesus!”

“You hear the latest?” Bridgette asked the next day, walking into their house with a bag of fast food slung over her shoulder. Jensen was right behind her, carrying a tray of drinks. Both of them removed their shoes and kicked them in the general direction of the rack.

Adam looked at both of them, where he was sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels of the `set and wondering if he should call Andy to chit-chat. He reeked heavily of a recent gym run, his hair awry. He had been anxious to get back to work, bored with doing nothing but sitting around to think.

“About what?” he asked, not interested.

“We were talking about you last night,” Bridgette said, sitting next to him, rummaging through the bag. Used to the smell of man sweat, she tossed into his lap a hamburger and a carton of fries, which spilled over him. “You're an asshole. And you're not good for Andy.”

“What?” he asked, Jensen taking the chair, setting the tray down. “What's that about?”

“Neilson was commenting on your, er, tactics,” Jensen said, indicating his cup. “Your personality's a little aggressive.”

Giving the ceiling an exasperated look, Adam asked, “And this is a surprise to all of you?”

“Peters is positive you're experimenting with homosexual tendencies with that guy,” Bridgette said, tossing Jensen his order.

“Why is he still talking shit behind my back? Where is he, anyway?” Adam asked, digging into his food, realizing he hadn't seen the man since he'd left for the gym this morning.

“Out. Somewhere. Doing…probably at the bookstore, trying to read up material on how to deal with homosexual friends.”

“You know…you're coming off pretty strong yourself, Neilson—”

Bridgette's fist shot out, Adam quickly covering himself and protecting his food. As her fist bounced off his forearms over his groin, he winced. “I'm trying to set you up with a need-to-know situation, Byrons, and you give me lip about it!”

“…Sorry.”

“Damn right you're sorry!” Bridgette huffed, shoving her brown hair behind her ears and lifting her eyebrows. “So…are you?”

“Am I what?” Adam asked, exasperated.

“Gay. Because Peters is convinced you've been fooling around with that guy.”

“Jesus.”

“You might as well as come out with it,” Jensen said with a sigh. “This is going to be passed around in our group like its Access Hollywood until we get the true facts.”

“How can you all gossip about stupid shit like that all the time? Just drop it. I'm sick of hearing about it.”

Bridgette backhanded him, causing him to drop his hamburger in surprise. “Sorry. My hand slipped.”

Fuming, Adam picked up his hamburger and glared at her, wishing she were a guy he could punch back. The woman was like a sister to him; but he couldn't remember his biological sister hitting him so much.

“Sam never said that he actually was,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “But he freaked out about it. Ian's convinced he is. You think he tried to hit on him?”

“Ian's an asshole,” Adam muttered. “Like I said, if a guy's soft, he's homo.”

“Is Andy soft?”

Adam thought of the feel of Andy's hard body, the way he felt against him. He really wanted to know what the other man looked like without his clothes, to see if he had freckles anywhere else. He then remembered what he'd been asked. “I—I don't get the question.”

“Personality wise,” Bridgette clarified, furrowing her brow as she'd noticed the pause. “Y'know, I haven't really met the guy. I think we should. If he's such a big deal in our group of friends, I want to get to know him better—”

“Hey, good idea!” Jensen chimed in, looking excited about the idea. “We could go somewhere neutral.”

“Whatever,” Adam muttered with a roll of his eyes, finishing off his food.

Bridgette looked disappointed. “What, no denials? You want this to happen?”

“I don't care.”

Bridgette frowned as Adam left the couch to throw his wrappers away, looking at Jensen. Jensen shrugged, wiping at his mouth and fingers with a napkin. “Shit. I was expecting something more to happen.”

“All I'm saying is, stop talking shit behind my back. Ian needs to stop being so fucking nosy and making up things that aren't even there. And you people need to stop making up Goddamn stories about people you don't even know. Christ.” Adam stomped upstairs, struggling not to get angry, knowing that his squad was naturally the type to get involved into others' business to make up for their own lack of drama. He walked into his room, to rummage for something other than his gym clothes to wear. He then headed to the bathroom with them.

“Don't be getting all bulimic with me! I spent nearly ten bucks on that!” Bridgette hollered after him. She reached out for his cellphone sitting nearby.

Jensen nearly choked as she scrolled through all his contacts. “You better not, Bridge. Don't you be doing something stupid.”

“Adam's so anal. He listed his buddy under his last name. How's this for a text? Hi Friend. What Are You Doing?” After Bridgette was finished, she sent the text, snickering as she glanced up at the upper floor to make sure Adam was still in the bathroom. Jensen looked horrified. “That sounded so gay. `Hi Friend'.”

She explored the rest of his contact numbers with disinterest. Then with a sigh, Bridgette tossed his phone back onto the cushions, sitting back in her seat to stare at the `set. “How boring. He didn't even respond.”

“You just barely sent the thing.”

“I gave him enough time to respond.”

“I think Adam's right. We're getting involved with something we have no business getting into—he texted back. Answer that,” Jensen interrupted himself to say, gesturing at the lit screen of the phone that was visible to him.

Bridgette located the phone and accessed the screen. “Check it out. This is what he says. Looking for a gym. Only he spelled gym as `jim'. What an idiot. What should I say?”

“Uh…thanks for the other day.”

“…Random. What happened?” Bridgette asked, complying.

“Sam said things must've worked out. Because Adam was…in his words, `lighter'. That kid is certainly special, isn't he?”

“Sam's a freakin' cherry, Jensen,” Bridgette mumbled, playing with Adam's phone. Her eyes then lit up as she looked over at her partner, who was rising from the chair to throw away his trash. “Malcolm. How bad you want to know whether or not we're right?”

Jensen knew what she was thinking as she held the phone up. “Girl, that's shitty.”

“I'm serious!” Bridgette quickly shoved Adam's phone into her pockets, rising from the couch. “Distract him. I'm going outside.”

Jensen rushed after her, but before he could touch her, Adam emerged, looking annoyed in that they were still there. Bridgette rushed out while Jensen inwardly cursed.

“What's that about? She better not have bled all over the couch,” Adam grumbled as he headed downstairs.

“Ah…right. Well…what…what are you up to, today?” Jensen sputtered, rubbing his hands together and hoping Adam wouldn't notice what happened to his phone.

“I'm ready to go out, tonight. I hate this sitting around, doing nothing. I went to the gym, earlier.”

“How…how's the injury? Okay?”

“Yeah. It's fine. Why are you so jittery?” Adam then asked, frowning at him. “What'd she say?”

“Ah, yeah, we were just—where's Larson?”

“You don't know?”

Jensen did—he just didn't know how to keep the conversation rolling, swallowing hard as he disliked what Bridgette was doing. Frankly, it was no one's business, and he wouldn't like what anybody had to say if what was happening between Adam and Andy was true. He knew what it was like to be out casted; he wasn't sure how Adam would take to being in that position after holding this one for so long. After so many years, their squad was a close group of friends and teammates; things would change if Adam was outed.

“Adam, man…they're talking,” he then said with a wince. “It's getting bad. They're convinced what they're convinced. You know how they are. They'll interfere until they get the answer they want.”

“Fuck `em,” Adam said simply. He sat back down at the couch, and then noticed his phone wasn't where he'd left it. He gave a half hearted search, then relaxed against the cushions, sure he'd hear it if it happened to ring.

“That's why Peters is spending so much time away from you,” Jensen said, cautiously taking a seat in the chair. “He's all conflicted.”

“So? He's got a lot of nerve to get into my business, when all of you should be bothered he's trying something with that fuckin' girl from the East Side.”

“That's old news,” Jensen said, waving it away.

“So what the hell's so interesting in my business? It's not true, anyway,” Adam added.

Bridgette walked in, and Jensen was able to tell that she wasn't happy. She walked into the kitchen, tossing his phone into the sink. She then bent to put her shoes back on. Loudly, she said, “Why is your phone in the sink, Adam?”

“What?” Adam asked, annoyed as he scrunched his brow.

“Well, that's all the shit I can shoot,” she said, walking away, gesturing at Jensen to follow. “See you tonight.”

Jensen looked at Adam as he quickly stuffed his feet into his shoes. “Sorry.”

Adam watched them leave, lifting an eyebrow at their odd behavior. With a heavy sigh, he rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen to retrieve his phone. How it had got into the sink was a mystery, but he figured Bridgette was up to no good. He pulled it out from a ceramic mug that was overfilled with dish soap and water, and wiped it against his shorts. Scrolling through the options on his screen, he headed back to the couch, to check on his call history and make sure she hadn't made any prank phone calls.

Instead the screen blanked out with a text from Andy, and it startled him with its content. He started to wonder what that meant when he noticed that his text message box was slightly full. Feeling a slight rush of panic, he activated his message board and read with some growing horror over what Bridgette had been up to with his phone.

`Are You In Love With Me?' Bridgette had texted.

`Thats prity bold.' came Andy's reply.

`So We Have A Thing Going On, Right?'

`R things ok?'

`Have We Done It Yet?'

`I would say no ???'

`So I'm Gay For You, Right? We're Clear On That Part.'

`Thats an odd ?.'

`So We're Gay?'

`Y r u asking that?'

`Bc I'm Gay For You.'

`This is weird.”

Snarling a curse, he quickly logged out of the board and found Bridgette's cellphone number. As soon as she answered, he cursed at her.

“You wouldn't tell me! So I tried to ask him!” she said petulantly. “But you fags have some sort of radar that senses investigation—”

“Bitch! Stay off my fucking phone!” Adam snapped back at her and hung up. He threw the phone onto the chair Jensen had sat on and fumed. But he wasn't sure what he was more angry at: the fact that Bridgette employed some sneaky tactic to wrangle answers from Andy, or that his entire squad was prying into his business.

Panic caused his gut to tie into knots; he was torn between keeping Andy close, but he was scared of being found out. With a low sigh, he lifted from the couch and looked at the time. Reaching out and finding his phone, he saw that Andy had texted again, and called him back to explain the situation. But now he needed to make a quick run into town to get another phone. Something no one else knew about so he could communicate with Andy freely.

“Here you go,” Andy said cheerfully, handing over the small bag. Ken took it with a frown, gear shifting around him as Paul spat onto the sidewalk, surveying the transaction with a studious air. Andy hated how small he felt standing amongst those in uniform. “I couldn't remember what brand it was, so I just…got something similar.”

“I told you you didn't have to,” Ken muttered, ripping the box out of the bag, and opening the labeled box.

“What'd you get me? This is a packaged deal, asshole. You get him somethin', you s'pposed to get me something,” Paul asked Andy, kicking his shoe heel.

“If you were nicer, maybe I'd ask about eyebrow reconstruction.”

“Ha, ha, yer so fuckin' funny,” Paul muttered, shoving him before stomping off, asking Nathanial if there was something wrong with his eyebrows.

Andy had learned of 43's location once Ken called him from a payphone. He was nearby anyway, filling in applications for the city's hiring for paramedics. He'd also completed a couple of general shopping trips, and found it harmless to make a quick visit with the unit before they moved on. Seeing them only made him yearn for his position back—he missed what he had to do, and felt some shame and discouragement in his discharge.

Ken examined the watch, tossing the box aside. Andy bent to pick it all up and threw it away, returning to say, “I can have it sized. Have a couple of links taken out.”

“No…no, it's fine.”

Andy examined his expression, finding it somewhat mystifying that this man would have feelings for him.

“Anyway, whatcha doing out here?” Ken then said, tucking the watch into one of his pockets behind his vest, so he wouldn't lose it.

Andy told him, and then looked at his phone as it buzzed with an unread message. Since everyone he knew was on the field, he was puzzled as to who it was texting him. “I got a new phone, too. The other one was killing me.”

Ken glanced around himself to make sure that they were still on break. Everyone else was busy talking to each other over their meals. He then studied Andy, and found that the blonde was wearing a lighter expression, as if a huge weight had been lifted from him. While suspicious as to why the other man could be happier than he was a few days ago, Ken wasn't going to start anything so soon.

“What are you doing this Saturday?” he then asked, unable to resist reaching out to punch Andy's arm, just so he could feel the warmth of his skin against his.

Rubbing at the spot, feeling self-conscious as he realized its purpose, Andy answered, “I…haven't really planned anything.”

“Well then, let's go out. Paul found this place.”

“I'd…rather not,” Andy said awkwardly.

“Why? You said you haven't any plans. Or is that just some cover for saying you're meetin' up with that guy?” Ken asked, frowning.

“I'm not meeting up with anybody,” Andy said evenly, moving to back away. “I just wanted to give you that watch.”

“Christ. Fine. Thanks,” Ken muttered, rising, adjusting the fit of his SMGs within their holsters. He turned his back to him and walked off to join his brother without another word to Andy.

Andy turned and walked off down the sidewalk, feeling embarrassed about the situation. He fished his phone out of his pocket and examined the text, frowning when he read about Adam having a nasty hemorrhoid problem. He texted back as to the identity of the person texting him, and then searched for a taxi to get him home.

Later, he faced Adam as the other man plopped down into the chair opposite him. It was nearly one a.m., but Andy felt overjoyed at seeing him so soon. The bar and grill Adam had told him to meet him at had a light crowd, and the pair of them could sit down at a table near the back and talk without being overheard. Andy had finished off a couple of beers before Adam had arrived, and had gotten a soda to somehow wash away the alcohol smell.

“I've been getting odd texts all day,” Andy said, holding up his phone. “Are these your friends?”

“Assholes,” Adam muttered in response. He'd seen Larson and Bridgette whispering to each other a few times, the t.o. officer playing on his comm-unit more than usual.

Fiddling with his phone, Andy asked, “Adam, is this really okay? I don't want to—”

“Andy, don't worry about it, all right? Just never mind.”

“But I do mind,” Andy said, setting it aside. “I mind for you.”

“Whatever. What'd you do today?”

Andy told him briefly. “I also met with Ken. To give him another watch, for the one I lost.”

Adam took a big breath, then exhaled as he searched for the waitress. “I see. He must've been happy about that.”

“What's that about?” Andy asked quietly, detecting a tone from him.

“Nothing. He got his watch back.”

“It's so weird you two get so annoyed with each other,” Andy muttered, flicking at the glass that held his soda.

Because Adam agreed, he shrugged and picked at the condiments that sat in a cluster within the center of the table.

“What are your siblings' names?” Andy then asked, choosing a different subject.

“John and Ann.” A little grateful for the change in subject, Adam relaxed slightly. “No step siblings for you?”

“No. Only child. I get jealous over those that have somebody to fight with.”

Adam couldn't help but think that line was something Ian had uttered once before. The waitress came over and took his order, then left in a flourish of perfume and flirty comments. “Well, it's different, I suppose. Because my younger brother is a pest. My older sister is just…completely pushy. How'd your parents—well, your mother meet your stepfather?”

“Dating site.”

“What are they like?”

“Mom's…busy. Ed's—for his own gain.” Andy shrugged. “Whatever. I don't speak with them, much.”

Adam couldn't imagine not having a relationship with his parent. He'd spoken to his mother before leaving for his shift, with the generalities of his day, and to hear about hers. He could describe his relationship with his parents as warm and inviting; he hadn't had any troubles with them that stood out. He looked across the table at Andy and wondered how someone like him had a strained relationship with the woman who birthed him. He decided that Andy's mother had a serious gap in maternal instincts.

“If you weren't in the military, what would you be doing?” Andy then asked him, changing the subject.

Adam thought about it. “Maybe have something in law enforcement. How about you? Before—all that happened.”

“When I was a kid, I'd always wanted to be an elementary school teacher. Then it changed in high school. I liked the medical field. Not as a doctor or something like that, but—as first response. That way, I wouldn't get attached to my patients,” Andy confessed.

“You like kids.”

“I think most of them are adorable.”

Adam made a face. Andy reached over to punch him lightly. “Would you want that? A family?” Adam asked him, surprised by hearing himself ask the question.

“I…well…yeah,” Andy mumbled. He shrugged. “But later. Definitely not now.”

“Adopted? Or through a surrogate?”

“I would consider adoption, first, because there are so many that are—but I don't know,” Andy then said quickly, and his response prompted Adam to think that this subject had been thought over long before he asked the question. “It would depend on my partner's feelings. That's an intense question, Adam.”

“How are you about races?”

“I'm not a racist. I didn't understand that way of thinking once I was old enough to know about it.”

“I was,” Adam said slowly. “I believed that there was only one right race. But I learned my lesson. We all bleed red. We all have the same problems. It's sort of sickening to see, now, how I was back then.”

“I'm glad you changed,” Andy murmured.

Their food arrived then, and both of them focused on their meal. Afterward, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. On the way home, Adam stared out the window of the train he was taking back to base, thinking over his visit with Andy. It still surprised him how attracted he was to the man, but it was plain to see how different they were to each other. Adam hated kids; Andy adored them. He'd given thought to a family; Adam hadn't even considered such things. Race hadn't been an issue for Andy; it had been a huge deal for Adam.

There had been moments where Adam had wanted to reach across the table to touch him, to kiss the stretch of Andy's neck and to inhale deeply of his scent. His attraction to the man was intense; he wanted to spend more time with him, to have more chances to touch and speak with him. Even now he wanted to call him and talk to him, but he held himself back. He was happily surprised that Ian hadn't entered his thoughts too much; he'd found himself comparing the two's similar values, but only out of familiarity.

He frowned as he fisted his hands and shoved them into his pockets. While happy with whom he had, he was unhappy with having to hide it. If things were different, if he were attracted to women, he could express his attraction easier with his friends. They wouldn't be so snoopy about it because he would be open about it. They'd leave him alone; but since he was hiding the fact that he wanted a man, it was different. He felt more stress about having his secret revealed than keeping Andy interested in him.

After he walked into the house, spying Larson and Ian verbally fighting with each other over the game they were playing, he thought about reprimanding them for bothering Andy. He then thought better of it and sat at the couch to watch them play, feeling annoyed as he wished he were spending more time with Andy.

“So what have you been doing with your life? Have you found a job?” Jeannette asked, frowning deeply as she surveyed her son, who picked at his pancakes.

She wished he'd cut his hair; she wished he dressed neater, his shirt wrinkled, a deep burgundy color that played up a faint sunburn across his cheeks and nose. While attractive, he dressed in colors that she didn't agree with. Women glanced at him, but didn't linger; she felt discouraged in that he didn't hold their interest long, making her wonder what was wrong with her son. He was attractive, he was built, he had aspirations for a respectable profession. She didn't understand why he wasn't settled down yet. There was something he was doing wrong to be stand-offish. She knew it had to do with his alcoholism.

It made his eyes look old, for his features to look a little more weathered. She didn't remember seeing those wrinkles around his mouth before. She wished he'd pay more attention to the sun damage he was getting, spying the freckles over his nose. She wanted to take him with her to a salon to fix up the age strains, but realized it was only her own cosmetic concerns with his aging that pointed to her own.

“I applied for a paramedic position,” Andy replied tightly, feeling stressed as he observed her continued disapproval. Despite the fact that he knew what her thinking was of him, he wished he was able to make her happy. “City, independent wise. I'm looking for another apartment.”

“What's wrong with the one you have now? Aren't they paying for it for the trouble they'd caused?”

“It's a nice neighborhood, it's just…I would rather something closer to base.”

“It's not like you have any reason to be nearby. You don't have a position there.”

“Maybe to be closer to Sam.”

“Sam,” Jeannette muttered, feeling a flare of bitterness for the male she'd met a few times. She'd been bothered by how similar the two looked, how close their relationship was; the younger male had been born out of a cheating relationship, and it pained her as a living reminder as to how she'd lost her first husband. She didn't like that Andy was so fond of him. It was as if Andy chose Frederick over her. She felt isolated and lonely, angry at her son for not siding with her.

“Sam and I are close,” Andy said tightly, hearing the tone she'd used. “I would hate to lose what I have with him.”

“I wouldn't understand why,” Jeannette said, automatically bristling at his tone. “Considering he's a product of your father's philandering.”

“Get over it. You have Ed, now.”

She jabbed at her salad with her fork, taking a deep breath. For a few moments, both of them bristled over each other's comments, picking at food they didn't feel like eating. She cleared her throat, reaching up to make sure her hair was still in place.

“Well, are you still drinking? Maybe you should consider taking a twelve-step program. I hate waking up to early morning phone calls, Andrew. Ed's been complaining, as well.”

Andy didn't care what Ed thought of him. “Yes, I've considered those. Listen, maybe you shouldn't worry about that.”

“Are you seeing anybody, now?”

“Yes,” Andy muttered, mashing his pancakes into paste with his fork.

“Who is she?”

“Someone I met on base. It's still early. I don't know where things are going.”

“What is her family like?”

“She's very close to her parents. Who are still married. Who love each other. She has siblings she's close with, too,” Andy answered.

“I was just asking you a question. I didn't ask for any smarty comments. I wish you were get over the fact that our marriage failed because Frederick chose to be with other people. It's not my fault he ended things the way that he did.”

“I'm sorry.”

“If your father wanted a family, he would have stayed. But he didn't. Blame him. I tried hard to give you everything, find you a father that cared. You never cared for Edward very much, and that's your own fault. I did what I could.”

Jeannette scanned the small crowd that took up the restaurant's space. The place was busy for the brunch hour, and she looked at her watch to note how much time she had to make her hair coloring appointment. She was disappointed at how cold her son was to her, feeling disappointed that even with the choices he made she still wasn't happy with them. She felt anger in that he'd been discharged from the service, humiliated in having to explain to her friends that he was now a civilian; though no fault of his own. She wished their relationship was closer; she felt jealous over those her friends' had with their boys, bitterly regretting that her only one had pulled away from her long ago.

“How are things with Ed?” Andy then asked, struggling to keep the conversation amicable.

“They're fine. I'm going to have to cut out early. Can't miss my appointment,” Jeannette said, setting her utensils aside.

Andy dropped his fork in exasperation.

“Call me when you are settled in your new place. Maybe we'll have lunch, if I have the time. And maybe you'll leave your bitterness home.” With that, Jeannette snatched up her purse and went to pay for the bill. Andy looked away from her in disgust, looking at his watch to note they'd spent exactly twenty-five minutes together. He glared down at his plate, knowing that when he had children, he'd treat them in ways he hadn't been treated before. He'd be entirely opposite of Jeannette.

He wondered how Adam interacted with his parents. He imagined him bulldozing them with his commands and orders, and imagined them going along just because they enjoyed what time they had with him. He felt jealous of his relationship with them. When Adam had said he was close with them, speaking of them affectionately, he wanted that. He wondered if he'd get to meet them, if they'd see into their relationship as more than just friendship. He wanted to meet Adam's parents, almost as badly as he wanted to be with the man. Mainly to see this relationship for himself, to see where Adam came from.

He looked up to see his mother leave through the double doors, feeling lonely as the waiter came by to clean off her area.

He picked up his phone and dialed Sam's number, desperately wanting to hear from him. At his sleepy morning greeting, his name said cheerily despite the hour, Andy felt better.

“Ian told me you're seeing somebody,” Mary said briskly.

“Somebody from base?” Jacob asked, furrowing his strong brow, his holographic image showing Adam that he was cleaning his hunting rifle, parts spread out before him on his work table. His heavy beard had some sort of food crumbs in it.

Both of his parents had holo-conferenced him, right after he was planning on hitting the gym, and Adam frowned at Ian as the other man quickly skulked out of the room, having been bothering him for an outing into town.

“No,” Adam replied to his father's question, looking at his mother as she continued to fold John's clothes. “Don't you have work today?”

“We're planning on leaving town a few days. Visit Vegas, gamble some,” Mary said, giving him a look. “Has your hearing failed with the start of this new relationship? You're so focused on this twit that you forget that your parents existed?”

“No,” Adam replied, annoyed.

“Ann's planning a birthday party for your mother,” Jacob said, closing one eye as he inspected a part. His severe looks were something Adam had inherited, but he'd also inherited Mary's eyes and hair. Hers was dyed and straightened, her features softened from her natural looks through regular salon visits. “Quit avoiding her phone calls.”

“She hasn't even called me, lately. John said she's involved with these two guys from work. They're part of the security service, there. I already had Larson look into them, and he found that both of them were rather popular in college for their partying.”

Jacob frowned as he looked away from his cleaning. “What?”

“One of them has a record. From someplace in Oregon. Some little place called Highlands.”

Jacob looked startled. “I forget there's places other than California and Vegas.”

“Ann is a grown woman. She can choose whomever she wants,” Mary said in exasperation.

Adam looked at her with a disapproving expression. “I don't like guys with records. Not with my sister.”

“As if she'd care about your opinion, Adam.”

“I care.”

“I want to speak with Larson when he has the time,” Jacob said, still frowning gravely. “I care who my daughter's with. Mary. Why didn't you tell me she was seeing somebody?”

“You knew. You just tend not to listen to me. You think your girl's still your little girl, with an intact virginity.”

Adam sighed.

“Woman!”

“I'm just saying,” Mary said, chuckling at both male protests, glancing up to see identically frowning faces. “Oh, shut up. Both of you are grownups. Ann's a grown up. She's pushing thirty-three! She doesn't need overprotective males getting into her business. Don't try to change the subject, Adam. Who's the girl?”

“It's on a need to know basis. I haven't decided where this is going,” Adam muttered.

“So this is just about sex, then?”

Humiliated that his mother spoke so frankly with him, not wanting to provide such details, Adam looked over at the hologram of his father.

“Quit embarrassing the man, Mary,” Jacob admonished.

“I'm just asking! I know how you boys are. You think the only thing that matters right now is pussy.”

“MOM!” Adam looked sharply at the doorway once he heard twin snickers. He picked up one of his gym shoes and hurled it at the doorframe. Both Ian and Larson quickly scurried down the stairs, mimicking parts of the phone call to each other.

“Adam…” Mary then paused in folding to examine her son. Her strong face furrowed with concern. “Are you on `roids? John told me you were huge, but you're extremely large.”

“I work out a lot. I have to. It's all this stuff I have to do in the field. It's just muscle.”

“I hope you don't crush your girlfriend when you're on top—”

At the pained exclamations from both her husband and her son, she snorted, continuing her task. “Well, whatever. How do you expect me to feed you if you visit? I think you'd better bring over your own groceries if you do, because I'm not going out of my way to feed both you and John at the same time.”

“Jesus, mom…”

“Well, I'll call Ian later for details. I've got stuff to do. I can't stay on the phone if you're not putting out. Love you.”

“Love you,” Adam muttered as Mary signed out.

Jacob sighed, shaking his head as he methodically continued to clean the parts he'd had spread out before him. “Ignore the woman, son. What you got going on is your business. I'd just advise making sure this one isn't shady, or conniving. Military boys are paid handsomely, and I wouldn't want you settling for somebody interested in that. You make sure not to let her know your paycheck.”

Adam snorted at the thought. “Right.”

“Make sure you strap it on—”

“Dad!”

“—because I'm not ready for a grand-kid. I told Ann that she better not be getting knocked up, because I'm still in the process of potty-training the brat we still have. John thinks peeing in the bushes out back is funny,” Jacob continued with annoyance. “By the way, that roommate of yours sure sticks his nose into things, doesn't he? You need to work on that, son. Put him back in line. Why does he have to be involved in your business? Calling your mother on the sly to tell on you. Whatever happened to bros before hoes?”

Adam suppressed a chuckle. “I don't know, dad.”

With a huff, Jacob set down his cleaning cloth. “Well, I'll call you later with our flight times. Meanwhile, make sure you're playing it safe with this girl.”

“I will. `Bye.”

“Talk to you later, boy. And…stop taking those steroids. Christ.”

Jacob signed off before Adam could tell him he wasn't taking any, but as he rose from his chair, feeling amused by the entire phone call, he glanced at himself in his full length mirror and wondered if he should lose a few pounds. Andy had made his comments here and there as well, but it looked as if he liked him the way he was. He then slipped on his socks, found his other shoe, and headed downstairs.

“Why are you calling my mom to tell on me?” he then asked Ian, who was sitting on the couch, eating a quesadilla.

“Your mom called me,” Ian corrected petulantly, but Adam knew he was lying because Ian wasn't looking at him. It was both annoying and endearing that Ian felt comfortable enough to talk to Mary on the sly. “She'd heard you were seeing somebody. Not from me! John must've told her something.”

“Why is everybody in my fucking business? Shit.”

“Bros before hoes,” Larson said with a snicker, working on one of his projects. “Your dad's cool.”

Ian laughed.

Scowling, Adam sat and pulled on his shoes. “Whatever. I'm going to the gym.”

“I'm going, too,” Ian said, abandoning his food and racing for his room. He emerged, hopping on one foot as he slid a shoe on. “Larson, meet us later.”

“I'm working on something, here!”

“If you haven't fixed it yesterday, it's not going to be fixed ever. We need to hang out more. Ever since Adam found…love…we've been losing track of each other.”

“I'm not in love! Fuck.”

“Whatever,” Ian said with a roll of his eyes. “Let's go, I'm ready. Besides, Larson has new gossip about those guys Ann's seeing. Personally, I wouldn't want my sister-in-law with some criminal. We need to talk to her, Adam. Maybe we should go over during our shift to check them out personally. Make sure they know who the hell they're trying to mess with.”

Because he agreed, Adam nodded. He felt some annoyance at Ian sticking his nose into his sister's business, but at the same time, grateful that he was. Because Ian was close to him, he'd gotten close to his family, having lacked his own. It made him feel comfortable with their relationship, in that his family was close to him.

In a way, he hoped Andy would turn out the same. He wanted his family to like the man as much as he liked him, even under the pretenses of them being friends.

“This is so neat,” Sam said, examining Andy's phone. “I wish I got one, too. But I'd have to pay extra on my plan.”

“I still say you change it. You text more than I do,” Andy said, looking over at him. Both of them were sitting on the couch, watching the `set. Andy had taken him to the gym he'd signed on, and had used the equipment there. Dressed in their gym clothes, both of them were sweaty and self-satisfied with their work-outs; Andy was annoyed that Sam was larger than him, but it was only their heights that set them apart. If he remembered right, Frederick wasn't that much taller, so Sam must've gotten his height from his mother's side of the family.

“Sometimes it's easier to say things in text. Speaking of them out loud is just…hard. Have you and Adam been talking a lot?” Sam asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah. He calls me, I call him. I really like him, Sam,” Andy admitted cautiously, unsure of how much to say. “But I don't like it when he—bosses me around.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, he is bossy.”

“He acts like I can't do things for myself. How do I give off the impression that I can't? By the way, I was wondering if I can use you as reference. I already signed you on, so if you get a call from the city regarding me, it's for that.”

“Definitely. You don't have to ask. What about your mom? Talk to her lately?”

“I had brunch with her the other day.”

“Didn't go good, did it?”

“No. How about yours?”

“She's doing okay. Rubbing shoulders with celebrities. She wanted to take me along with her to New York for something involving Vogue magazine. I was like, Hell no. Have you seen that Devil Wears Prada movie? Lars likes Emily Blunt. He made me watch that shit. He said it was based off that magazine's editor. I don't want to meet some witch.”

Andy laughed at the thought of them watching what he considered a chick flick.

Sam gave him his phone back. “Did you find an apartment, yet?”

“I want to see where I get signed up, first. I don't know where they'll assign me.”

“What kind of shifts do they offer?”

“I asked for swing. But then again, it's set up for thirty-six hour shifts, so I'd be spending time at their base while on duty.”

“Sounds good. I'm sure you're hella qualified for that,” Sam said confidently.

“I wish I were still in the service.”

“Now you're free. I mean, think about it. You can be yourself.”

“I guess,” Andy mumbled, picking at a scab on his forearm.

“Andy, does your mom know you're gay?”

“No. Geez. She doesn't like me already. While we don't have a good relationship, at least we're talking. If I told her that, she'd write me off completely.”

“I don't see why you don't get along.”

“There's a lot of things that prevent us from getting along. Back in high school, I totally…shut her out. Because…because I was drinking. I got fed up with coming in last with her list of concerns and just…acted out.” Andy shrugged. “I still wish I was able to do something to get her approval. I don't know why. I push and pull at her. I don't know what I want.”

Sam nodded. “Me too. I mean, I still want a mom that'll be, like, proud. I think my mom is, but she still thinks of him when she looks at me. Sometimes she'll snap at me like I'm him, so it kinda sucks that she thinks that way.”

“I know, right? Whatever.”

“I don't see why we're paying for he did, why they see him when they look at us. It's hard not to think of myself as a mistake he made,” Sam muttered.

“It sucks.”

Sam exhaled heavily. “I just don't want to be seen as a mistake all my life. I thought when I was signed with the service, she'd think differently of me. But she just uses it to brag. And when her friends meet me, they get all taken back. Like, Oh, you look like him. And I'm not loud and big like other guys my age, so they're like, You're quiet. But I don't want to change myself.”

“You're good the way you are, Sam. No matter what anybody says. Everybody around you thinks highly of you, and your team absolutely adores you. They'll give you shit just because they're protective of you,” Andy assured him. “They're siblings you never had.”

“They can be annoying, but I like `em.”

“I'm so glad you have them,” Andy said truthfully, reaching over to punch him lightly. “They'll make you strong and confident of yourself.”

“Yeah.” Feeling assured by both Andy's words and feelings of confidence, Sam looked over at him. He felt truly lucky he'd met the man, feeling assured by his place in the world. His mother may treat him differently, tell him things that made him feel useless, but just being within Andy's presence made him feel better.

“You ever…like…talk to him?” he then asked cautiously.

“Not since…like, junior high. And only on accident when he called mom, and I answered the phone. I knew it was him, and I tried to talk to him, but he just…he wasn't interested. That hurt. To be rejected. Have you?”

“No. He rejected me along time ago. He didn't even bother getting to know me.”

“His loss. I think that in the end, it's for the best. Why get to know somebody that didn't want you from the start?” Andy said on a sigh, leaning back in his seat. “There are others out there that value you completely. I'm one of them.”

Sam snickered. “You're so corny. I think if anybody heard us talking, they'd be gagging by now.”

“Luckily, we're too boring for them to hang out with us.”

“Let's go bowling. I hate that you won last time.”

“Let's golf, instead. There's this green just down the block.”

“I hate golfing, Andy. It's so fucking boring. I can't ever hit the damn ball!”

“How about the batting cages, then?”

“No. I hate when balls fly at my face.” Sam suddenly snickered. “But you don't have a problem with it, do you?”

“Shut up, Sam!”

“Were you ever ball boy for school sports?”

Andy punched him in the gut. “You've been getting smarty, lately.”

“Neilson said the same thing. I dunno what it is. Geez, for a guy with a limp wrist, you've got a fierce fist.”

“Sam!”