by A. F. Henley
Had the father been a sharper man, he might have seen the twitching branches that marked their visitor's passage. He wasn't.
*~*~*
There was a soft breeze rustling the tree tops and the leaves sounded crisper than the eye would have one believe. Matthew sat on the porch with his laptop on his lap (appropriately enough, he'd thought with a grin) and tapped away at the keyboard. He was keeping a journal, as he was inclined to do for any study, but so far it didn't have any entries that went beyond the light patterns of the O'Connells' residence. They had no blueprint of the house, although Gavin had requested one, but a person didn't need to be a superspy to figure out which rooms were for what. The time schedule of lights going on, staying on, and being turned off made it pretty clear. Other than the lights, though, there'd be nothing else—nobody walking out to pick up mail (from what Matthew had seen, anyway, even though the little red flag had gone up, down, up, and down again, so someone must have been getting it), no one wandering out to the front porch for a breath of fresh air or to gaze up at the stars. Nobody stopping by for a chat. Matthew had almost come to believe that the two pickup trucks in the O'Connell driveway were there for show and that the O'Connells had their own food supply. He never dwelled long on what that supply might be. The thoughts gave him shivers. But in the week that he and Gavin had been in the house, not once had he seen one of the trucks back out and drive off.
So when the front door of the O'Connells' opened, and a tall, thin man with dark hair stepped onto the porch in what appeared to be a light leather jacket and jeans, then turned and assessed the Connor house—their new house—Matthew was shocked.
It didn't take long for Matthew to identify the man as Randy Connor. Randy didn't have the build that the two O'Connell men had and though his hair was shorter now than in the pictures Matthew had studied, the resemblance was still there. Good-looking man, Mr. Connor was, indeed. He also had the casual but confident gait that spoke of a fine upbringing and a care towards gracefulness that wasn't usual in such a rural community.
Matthew watched Randy saunter down the road towards the house with an expression that he knew was resplendent in praise. Life was not fair... all the good ones really were married. Or shacked up, anyway.
When Randy paused at the foot of the driveway and lifted a hand in a silent hello, Matthew motioned him up without hesitation.
"Howdy, neighbor." Matthew shut his laptop. "Out for a stroll?"
A smile lit Randy's face and everything south of Matthew's belly button went weak. It had been too long since Matthew had spent some time with another man and he was due. It was time to either get back into town and hit the bars or call up some of the more risqué websites Matthew knew of. While Matthew wasn't all that into fly-by-night affairs, a person still needed some one-on-one time, and it wouldn't be the first time Matthew had gone looking for a body to tide him over. It wasn't ideal, but work and school hadn't left him much in the way of free time to go searching for a hubby. He could live with that for the time being; it wasn't like life was slipping past him. Not yet, anyway. He was young. There'd be time for true love and potential husbands later.
"Thought I'd do the respectable thing and stop by to say hello," Randy said. He stood at the bottom of the porch stairs and made no effort to come any closer.
Matthew lifted out of the chair with an exaggerated effort, and tucked his laptop under his arm. "I was starting to think the house was empty over there."
Randy didn't reply with anything other than a chuckle and while disappointed, Matthew had to admit that he didn't really think it was going to be that easy to get the man to talk. 'Yeah, sorry about that, but we've got this vampire that we're hiding' wasn't just going to fall out of Randy's mouth. Unfortunate, but life was an entire string of unfortunate events.
"Can I offer you a coffee?" Matthew asked. "Or something more sociable? It's not too early to offer you a beer, is it?"
Randy waved the suggestions away. "I'll take you up on that another time, but thank you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. If you liked the house and everything was working all right for you. It used to be mine, you know."
"I did not," Matthew lied. "But that would make you R. Connor, wouldn't it?"
"Randy," he said. "The R actually stands for Randall, but I prefer Randy."
"Perfectly acceptable name," Matthew said. "I'm Matthew. With all the letters still intact." He stepped down the stairs, but slowly; as though he were advancing on a wild animal. As genuine as Randy's light, friendly expression seemed to be, Matthew wasn't about to throw caution to the wind. He could only hope that Gavin was listening, or watching, at least, and that Gavin would be inspired to find a way to save him should things suddenly go awry. Not that Randy was a wolf or anything... but who knew what could have gone on in the last several months?
He suddenly realized he was standing there, mute and drifting in his own thoughts. He shook his head, he widened his smile, and kicked his tongue into gear. "I am absolutely in love with this house," Matthew gushed. "The view out back is amazing. So peaceful, you know what I mean? It's exactly what we were looking for."
That was a complete pile of horse dung; Matthew's preferences ran to wide, open lofts in condos that were full of stainless steel and leather, where he couldn't care less if the snow was falling because someone who was paid to do so was going to clear the walks and make sure he could get out of the laneway.
"And your wife?"
"My husband," Matthew corrected with a prideful smile that he could only hope was coming across as, 'that's right, my friend, we're all on the same team here.' "And yes, I think he likes it well enough. It's quite different from our condo back in L.A., but he'll get used to it."
He made a mental note to tell Gavin that they'd moved from L.A., should the conversation be broached at a later date. They really should have put more thought into their backstories.
"Oh man, can I relate to that." Randy laughed. "I could write a novel on the things I had to learn when I moved here from D.C. But I won't keep you; you look busy." He pointed at Matthew's laptop. "Are you writing?"
"Facebooking," Matthew lied and then instantly regretted it. What if there was a sudden offer that they become Facebook friends? Was he going to have to set up an account? Where would he ever get contacts and fake family and gosh darn it, why didn't he think of these things before he opened his mouth? This spy business was harder than it looked.
"Important stuff, indeed." Randy's grin grew and once again Matthew found himself liking it just a wee bit too much. It was endearing. Open and attractive. Not an expression that Matthew would associate with 'lawyer from D.C.' That O'Connell fellow had better be thanking his lucky stars for what the good Lord had dropped into his lap.
"I loved this house," Randy said, looking up at the trees. "I'm going to miss it. At least I didn't have to move far." He pointed at the O'Connells' property. "That's our place. Nice and close. It worked out pretty neatly, if I do say so myself."
"That's all kinds of cool, isn't it? That you met your husband here? I hope it was a love at first blush kind of thing?" Matthew knew the whole story, of course, but Randy wouldn't know that. If Randy got suspicious that Matthew knew they'd met here in Wolf, well than Randy could blame Matthew's foreknowledge on gossip. It would be foolish to think a place this size wouldn't be gossiping over the gay couple, after all.
Randy's eyebrow ticked the tiniest bit up his forehead and, just like that, Matthew felt his previous reasoning get kicked to the curb. No. The town wouldn't gossip about these guys. Especially the ones in the know of the O'Connells' special little tricks and treats. Matthew's heart skipped a beat, and his stomach dropped. Damn...
Instead of calling Matthew out on how he knew and why he knew and what exactly he thought he knew, Randy chuckled. "My husband—well, fiancé, really—has lived here forever. The truest of the true Wolf men, complete with the ingrained belief that if you aren't born in Wolf, you don't belong in Wolf. Which is my way of sayi
ng that yes, I met him here, but it was by no means a love at first sight thing. I had to work my ass off for it."
"Ah," Matthew feigned a wince of sympathy. "That sucks. But all's well that ends well, or so the saying goes."
"True enough." Randy stuck out his right hand. "My point being that when I first moved here, I was sure that I was going to be ostracized and alone forever. So I figured I'd risk his disapproval and make sure that didn't happen to you as well." He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. "Consider this my official hello and welcome."
"Thank you very much," Matthew said. He turned to set the laptop down on the stairs and accepted Randy's handshake. "And before I forget, congratulations."
Randy tilted his head, seemingly confused.
"You said 'fiancé'," Matthew explained. "Congratulations on your engagement. Is it recent?"
Randy nodded. "Somewhat. A few months ago we realized that life is too short to be scared of commitment. When the Supreme Court gave the nod to same-sex marriage, we decided we'd make it official."
"Soon?"
Randy's expression darkened with all the swift insistence of storm clouds in August skies. "Hopefully. We'll see. I'd like to do it somewhere away from the bureaucracy of Wolf, but we're not doing much traveling at the moment."
And why is that? Matthew thought it, but he kept it to himself. "Well, the two of you should come by some time. We could do dinner. Or drinks. Both, if you wanted. And of course, you could bring the kids."
The moment he said it, Matthew realized that he wasn't supposed to know that there were kids. He hadn't seen any. He hadn't even seen any school buses trundle by. He quickly tried to cover with, "The real estate lady said there were three, right? A girl and two boys?"
Randy nodded, but slowly, as if judging what his next words should be. "Yes. Although, the eldest boy would be a little perturbed to be called a kid. He turns twenty-two in a couple of months. His boyfriend lives with us as well."
Warning lights lit in Matthew's head. Was that the vampire? It could be... it made sense. If there was only some way he could work a question like that into the conversation. Like, did the boyfriend come back with Lyle from D.C.? Did the boyfriend ever leave the house during daylight? Did he have freaking-fracking fangs? But even if Matthew stuck with the one question in that list that would sound sane, there was no way in Hades that Matthew should know about that particular excursion. Gossip or no gossip.
"Well, you can bring him along too," Matthew said, ignoring the part of him that was pointing out that he'd potentially just invited a vampire into his home. If the movies could be trusted—not that they could—a simple invitation was all he—it—would need...
A shudder went through Matthew and, by the slight lift of Randy's eyebrow—and that was the second look of suspicion garnered so far... Nice work, Bond—it had been a noticeable one. "It's getting cooler," Matthew said. "I'm not used to it yet. I swear that by mid-afternoon it's already starting to get dark out. Does winter start in August here or what?"
The smile resurfaced on Randy's face. "Indeed. And as much as I hate to say it, you ain't seen nothing yet." They shared a chuckle and Randy put his hand out for a farewell shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Matthew."
"You too."
When Randy stepped off the laneway and out into the street, Matthew was only able to stop himself from dashing back into the house through sheer willpower. A good thing, probably, as Randy turned back to wave before starting up his own driveway. The moment he was swallowed up by the trees, though, Matthew was gone.
"Strauss! Gavin! God bless America and Caesar's flipping ghost, there's someone else that lives there! Come here, you need to hear this!"
*~*~*
Gavin didn't "come here" at all and Matthew realized he wasn't surprised. Watson, Gavin Strauss was not. And Gavin could lounge back on the mattress in the darkened bedroom, flipping the television through the stations that the satellite was broadcasting into their 'home' while explaining with patience that there was sunlight beyond that door and when was Matthew going to pick up on that, all that Gavin wanted to but Matthew wasn't fooled in the least. There was a small smile on Gavin's lips and that small smile said, I'm in command here, Doctor. Not you. And I don't come when I'm called like a dog.
Still, Matthew had been busting with the need to pass on the information about the O'Connells' house guest. Though his pride told him that he ought to be annoyed with Gavin's lack of enthusiasm about his pending information, instead of pointing out that the blinds that the techs of the GDBCG had put up were firmly closed, that the lighting was still turned down as they'd insisted it had to be, and that he, Matthew, wasn't an idiot by any stretch of the imagination, Matthew merely sat down on the corner of the bed and let it all come flying out of his mouth.
The truth of the matter was that this little game of recon was proving to be exciting. Wasn't that, really, what had pushed Matthew into research instead of private practice after all? The exhilaration of finding out things that nobody else knew?
He ended his rushed and breathy monologue with, "So I invited them over. I hope that's okay. I mean, you know... with the..." He swirled his hand, suddenly embarrassed by speaking his earlier train of thought. "The vampire thing. Inviting a potential one into the house and what not."
Gavin stopped pushing the channel button. He turned his eyes to Matthew and stared. He dropped the controller. "Do you think this is a joke?"
Matthew's eyes widened. "What? No—"
"Do you think you've been lifted out of ordinary life and dropped into a fucking fairy tale?"
"No! Of course not—"
"I—" Gavin breathed a short, powerful huff of air out of his nose. "You—" He stopped, considered. "How do I say..." He snapped his fingers. He nodded, to himself it seemed. "I know. You're a man of faith, aren't you?"
The question startled Matthew. He wasn't sure how to answer it. He absolutely was, but what would Gavin think if he admitted that? Was it weird that a man of science would be? And what did that have to do with anything, anyway?
"It's not a trick question, Matthew. Yes or no?"
His tongue refused to allow him to lie. "Yes."
Gavin nodded. "Do you have a cross? Crucifix? Bible?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his stare firming into a frown. "Bottle of holy water?"
The condescension in Gavin's voice was extraordinary. It turned Matthew's embarrassment into annoyance. "As a matter of fact, I do. Why? Does that make me some kind of—"
"Get it."
There was way more demand in Gavin's tone than there had been in Matthew's simple, "Come here," and Matthew was pretty sure he was going to lose a lot respect if he followed the command without question. If Gavin's refusal to come when called was a power play, then Matthew would be judged by his own reaction in a similar situation. And Matthew wasn't about to have Gavin believing that he was some kind of master.
"Look," Matthew said, tone light, gaze firm, as though he were talking to a child, "we are both grown men here and while I admit that I have had moments of carelessness myself—"
"Go. Fucking. Get it."
Matthew's lips tightened. Pricks of anger began to draw blood into a flush on his cheeks and chest. He could feel the anger rising, and he hated it. One did nothing good when one was angry or frustrated. It was another reason he didn't let himself get to the point that he swore. Swearing was just a sign that frustration—that anger—had been allowed to take forefront over sense. It was impossible to think reasonably or responsibly when one's endorphins reached excessive excitatory mode.
He took a deep breath.
The two most common responses to pain are anger and anxiety. If he's causing you anger or making you anxious, that is because you are feeling pain. There is no physical cause for this pain; if there was, your reactive response would be understandable. Instead, this pain is a manifestation of your mind due to societal expectations on how you should react when you're placed in a position of forced submission.
By allowing yourself to feel this pain, you're granting him that submission. You are not in physical pain—I repeat—you are not in physical pain and you can control not only the corollary of your mind but your body's reaction to this moment as well. Breathe.
He took another one: a deep, slow breath in and an even slower one out.
In a heartbeat, the pricking sensation on his skin stopped. His cheeks cooled. His breath regulated.
He forced a smile. "As I was saying, if we could be nice to each other, I think this will go a lot smoother than it might otherwise. And while we're laying out our own personal ground rules and expectations, I have to say that I find your cursing somewhat offensive—"
Gavin slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. "Sweet fucking Christ..."
"And there are some people, not only me, who believe that kind of comment is not only cursing but taking the Lord's name in vain. Which—"
Gavin spread his fingers and peered between them. "No. No. I'm actually praying." He closed his fingers tight again. "Sweet fucking Christ, give me the strength not to rip this man's throat out in a moment of unadulterated frustration."
Matthew lifted a finger. "God has more important things to do than—"
"Doctor?" Gavin smiled. "Matthew? Sweet, gentle Doctor Matthew. Would you be so kind as to locate and bring your item of faith into the bedroom so that I can utilize it as a prop in a civil and respectful conversation that relates to our previous line of discussion? I'm more than certain you will find it to be an interesting and enlightening exchange of information that will allow us to operate from the same level of education with respect to my condition."
He paused, lifted an eyebrow and smiled, exposing his teeth in a parody of geniality that made Matthew's skin crawl. "Better?"
"Yes." Matthew smiled, doing his best to keep the sarcasm in his voice under control. He undid the second and third button of his shirt and drew out a chain. On it hung a simple gold cross that tossed reflected blue and white light from the TV set onto the walls as it swung. "Will this work?"
