by Willa Okati
"Jesus," one of the guys whispers. "How the hell did you..."
Daniel just wishes he were hard so that the design would show off better. "Who's got balls now?"
"Who's about to have them cut off?" a voice booms behind him. Daniel doesn't have to turn around to realize that this is Bill, back to check on their progress. In fact, he thinks, turning around would probably be a really bad idea right about now.
"Put that away and make yourself decent," Bill orders. "Daniel, with your reputation as a carpenter I expected better of you."
Daniel tucks himself away and zips up. He still can't quite make himself turn around.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, son."
Okay, turning around it is. Daniel pivots on one foot and comes face to face with a mightily pissed-off Bill. He can tell because the man's face is so still and nothing's moving but a small tic in his jaw. "Daniel, I don't give second chances. You screwed up on the job once. You don't get off free."
Daniel knows what Bill's saying. He nods, hitches his tool belt higher, and takes off his name badge. He hands the badge to Bill, who accepts it without a word, and starts loping in the direction of Rack's booth.
He finishes his coffee on the way there and throws the cup away.
When he finds Rack, who's busy doing a butterfly on a shoulder blade, he doesn't even have to say anything. Rack has his Zen-like stillness on, but apparently he's tuned into station Daniel well enough to say, "Go on in the back of the booth, love. Just let me finish this and I'll be right there. The rest of you lot will give me fifteen, yeah?"
There's a wave of nods and a swell of agreeable murmurs before Rack glances up. His eyes hold a world of sympathy, which salves Daniel's wounded pride like cold cream on a sore place. "Whatever happened, I know it was for a good reason," he says. "Now go on, pet. Back of the booth. Pull the curtain if you like. I'll be there soon as I can."
And this, this is one of the reasons that he's with Rack. Neither of them is whipped. All they are is two guys, albeit two wildly different guys, who just get each other. Enough to have dedicated the rest of their lives to one another.
Daniel presses a kiss to Rack's temple before obeying orders. He heads into the back and pulls the privacy curtain, leaning then upon the counter he built himself. He puts his hand over his face and rubs his eyes.
Well. The carpentry gig has gone to the hot place in a hand basket. So what the hell does he do now?
Chapter Five
After his time with Rack, Daniel has no idea where to go after the carpentry debacle. He's debated walking around the booths with his tool belt on, but he knows how fast gossip spreads. By now he's gonna have a rep as the guy who waved his dick at a bunch of straights, and everyone will be looking at him funny.
He would have loved to see the sights, but instead he's hunkered up in an out-of-the way bench, his tool belt unbuckled and resting on the floor beside him. His feet are propped up because he sees no reason not to tuck his chin down on his knees. He's sitting still, watching the world pass him by, praying that nobody notices.
That is, until he sees Josh go by, a Styrofoam cup in his hand. Then Daniel really does scoot backwards, praying he isn't seen, because Josh was there when it all went down, including Daniel's pants. He's praying Josh won't turn around and spot him.
His prayers go unanswered, and Daniel's reminded of why it's been so long since he set foot in a church. Josh is, apparently, methodical, and turns around to scan every corner. When he spies Daniel, his face lights up a little and he heads toward the bench.
Daniel manages to give him a nod. "Josh. Did they send you after me?" God, let the platform have been sturdy. Give him that much at least.
"Nobody sent me." Josh's voice is quiet, and Daniel's beginning to realize that's his normal tone. Very hushed and don't-notice-me. Daniel can relate. "I came looking for you on my own."
Daniel blinks. "You -- why?"
"I saw what you did." Josh shrugs. "Do you mind if I -- if I sit?"
Why not? Daniel swings his boots off the bench and makes room. It's smaller than the one they shared the night before, and their hips are almost touching as Josh sits down. The man passes over his cup. "Here. I heard that you weren't allowed much caffeine, so I brought you some decaf tea."
Yep, that grapevine is working overtime. All the same, Daniel takes the hot drink and gives Josh a nod of thanks. "Appreciate it."
Josh half-shrugs. "I'd want someone to do the same for me." He gives Daniel a shy, sideways look. "It took a lot of nerve to do what you did."
Daniel swallows some of the mostly-tepid liquid and it threatens to go down the wrong pipe. "Me, brave? I'm not the soldier just back from the Gulf."
"Oh, that." Josh fills out his shrug. "I wasn't that much of a tough guy. Tended to spend most of my time scared shitless, actually."
"It was a war. I think scared shitless is the default." The quip earns him a soft laugh, and Daniel thinks that happiness is a good look on Josh. "Seriously, thanks for the drink."
"It was no problem." Josh sits quiet for a moment, then asks, "What was your first tattoo? And why did you get it?"
Daniel cocks his head, puzzled, but he's game. "It's a tribal design on my chest. You can't really see it right now, but here, let me unbutton my overshirt --" which he does after passing the cup back. With the top layer gone, all that's left is his wifebeater, which is white, so that the bold primary colors shine through.
"Wow," Josh breathes. He takes a sip of Daniel's tea. "That's -- fuck, some of the guys had tattoos in my platoon, but no one had anything like this."
"It was a special design." Daniel takes his tea back. Tastes like shit, but it's liquid and it's warm. "My lover drew it up for me, and then he did the needlework."
Josh's hand is halfway out, as if he wants to touch but is scared he'll get yelled at. "Can I...I mean-- "
"Sure, go ahead." Daniel's been felt up before by people who love his tattoo. He doesn’t quite get the urge to touch, since it's just skin by now. Except, that is, when Rack traces the lines with his tongue while they're having sex. But that's another story altogether.
Josh inches closer, and puts his hand flat-palmed on Daniel's chest. His hand is a strange mix of hard and soft, as if he had to watch out for his fingers, being a medic, but did plenty of hard work, too. It's a peculiar mix that sends a startling zing down to Daniel's groin, surprising him enough to sit up a little straighter and take a hasty swig of tea.
As could have been predicted, Josh flinches back. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have assumed-- "
"No, it's okay," Daniel reassures him. "Trust me."
"Thanks. But I think I'll pass." There's a beat, and then Josh's asking, "So why did you get it done in the first place?"
"Lover. He wanted to decorate me." Daniel feels his face soften into a smile. "Right about then, I would have let him put Big Bird carrying a pail of worms on my chest."
"You loved him that much?"
"Love," Daniel corrects. "Did then, and still do now. I'm planning some more ink. I want to get my arms done. And piercings. Rack says he wants to do my cheeks with two studs, like dimples."
He sees a matching twitch of Josh's lips. "You'll look like a girl."
"Which is exactly what I said, and hey! No insulting of the masculinity here." Daniel grins to show he doesn't mean to be harsh. "I'm every inch a man."
"I can see that," Josh says, so softly that Daniel isn't sure he heard right. "What are you going to do for the rest of the day?"
Daniel sighs. "Hell if I know."
"Ah." Josh nods. "I kind of...kind of know how that goes. When you just want to hide. But there's a lot of stuff out there." His lips twitch a second time. "Most of it's worth wandering around to see."
"I know. I just don't..." Daniel spreads his hands wide.
"It's okay. The bomb hit too close. You have to stay under cover for a while." Daniel notices Josh's hands start up a fine trembling. "Look, don't worry about Bill, okay? He's not an e
asy guy to get along with, but-- "
"But my ass is out of a job." Daniel finishes his tea, sighs, and crumples the cup into a ball. "And I have no idea what to do. I support myself, you know? Now I'll have to..."
"You're not leaving?"
"Think I might have to."
"Oh." Josh looks down. "I'm sorry," he says after a minute. "I was sort of hoping that I...I'd get to know you better."
"Give me your e-mail address."
"I don't have a computer."
"Your phone number."
"I can do...I can do that." Josh fumbles at his clipboard until he finds a blank sheet of paper, pulls off the attached pen and scribbles some digits down. He tears off that section and hands it to Daniel, who tucks the thing away in his shirt pocket.
He's curious, because this is a cell phone number. "Say, where do you live, anyway?"
"Right now? With the tour." Josh shrugs as he stands up. "After that, I don't know."
"The army doesn't take care of you?"
Josh's shudder is more pronounced now. "I'd rather...rather not talk about the military right now. They're -- they were-- " He gives up. "Just not my favorite subject, okay?"
Daniel nods and backs down. He still can't help wondering, but he does it silently. If you were a medic there, what are you here? A doctor? A nurse? A freakin' phlebotomist? Why not go back to the world you knew once upon a time? Why follow a bunch of guys with ink and metal around the United States of America?
So many questions, but he senses that Josh won't want to answer them. Not yet, anyway. He nods instead. "Thanks for the tea."
"It was nothing." Josh stands up, pushing his free hand into his pocket. "Maybe I'll see you before you leave."
"It could happen." Daniel can sense that Josh's about to take flight like a bird startled out of its nest. "Take it easy, okay? And hey, do you want my number? Someone to call and just talk to if-- "
He’s given a half-smile. "I have it. The old roster of carpenters and their contact info is still on here." He waves his clipboard. "And I'll...I'll call. I will. If things get...get rough. Okay?"
God, how much rougher do they have to be? All the same, Daniel feels like he's made some progress. "Okay, then," he says, relaxing back into his bench and showing Josh that hey, it's all right, no need to panic. "Go do gofer things. I'll be fine here."
Josh's relief is palpable. "I will. They're probably looking for me."
And who is this mysterious "they"? Daniel wonders. He doesn't voice the question, but just nods. "Okay. See you around, then."
"See you," Josh says before he's out of there, moving way too fast, leaving Daniel to stare after him and shake his head. This day is moving from bad to mixed-up way too fast for him.
Watching the shy, handsome man retreat, Daniel realizes that there's only going to be one thing he hates more than leaving Rack behind on the tour -- the chance to get to know Josh better. He has the feeling that they could really have been friends.
Too bad now that they'll never know. But that's life, isn't it?
Daniel lets out his breath in an unhappy whoof and crumples his cup again. Yeah. That's life.
And life can really, really suck sometimes.
Chapter Six
Daniel's sitting up in the hotel bed, picking at the probably very expensive nubs on their heavy duvet -- one thing about the New York con, they don't stint on the finer things in life -- or maybe that's just a special perk for the star artists because Rack is Rack.
Pick, pick, pick.
He flinches when one comes off in his hand, then flicks the bit of fabric to the carpet. Very soft, plushy carpet that's one of God's gifts to tired feet. You gotta appreciate the small things in life.
"Are you done in there?" he calls, trying not to sound pitiful or sorry for himself. Because he's not, honest he isn't. So he got fired his first day on the job. Big deal.
Except that means he'll have to go home tomorrow and spend six weeks without Rack. Which sucks donkey dicks. But damned if he's going to hang around and be useless, or let himself be a kept man for over a month. He earns his own way.
He'll just have to do it alone, back home at the workshop. By himself. God, he and Rack haven't been parted for longer than a day since... well... ever.
This sucks syphilitic donkey dicks.
And Rack's taking forever in the bathroom. "Not quite done, pet," he answers absently, his voice echoing a bit off all the chrome and tile they've got in there. Great acoustics if you're the type who sings in the shower.
Daniel prays that Rack does not try to sing. His lover can do many things, often with his tongue, but singing is not one of his skills. He makes up for lack of talent with enthusiasm, though. Unfortunately.
Sighing, Daniel forces himself to stop plucking the bed coverings bare. He leans back against a nice tapestry headboard and lets out a deep sigh. "I'm going to get changed out here, then."
"Ah, and not even a show for me to watch?"
"Hey, you're getting changed by yourself, buster." Which is true. After walking him up to the room in a silent show of support, Rack gathered up a small bag out of his luggage and disappeared. "So no complaining."
"And here I was offering to ogle your naked body."
Daniel can't help softening into a grin at those words. "Trust me, you'll get a chance." And if he has anything to say about it, Rack will. He plans on making this a night to remember, since it'll be the last one for a while.
That thought brings a lump to his throat, but he swallows it down. Come on, you're a big boy. Married and everything. So deal. Understand?
"What are you doing in there, anyway?" Daniel climbs off the bed and heads for his own suitcase. He's packed something special in there, and hey, while it might be a little bit girly, you're supposed to wear something special on the night of your honeymoon, right? "Rack, do I have to teach you how to go like a big boy?"
"Ha bloody ha." Something clanks, and Rack curses. "No need for alarm," he says quickly, before Daniel can even ask. "Go on and get your kit off."
"It's more like I'm putting something else on."
"Ah, now, you're spoiling all my fun. Here I was thinkin' about you spread out all naked and delicious-looking on the bed, just waiting for me to have my wicked way with you."
The mental image sends chills down Daniel's spine. The good, goosy kind. For a second he hesitates, a handful of wadded-up silk in his hand, and then decides... nah. If naked is how Rack wants him, then naked is how Rack gets him. He can wear the special outfit the first night Rack gets home from the tour. A "welcome-home" gift.
Rack's still taking his own sweet time, though, so Daniel isn't hurried in the way he pulls off his boots, socks, and jeans. He peels off his T-shirt and stacks the whole mess in a more-or-less neat pile by what he's designated as his side of the bed.
Feeling strangely a little awkward, he stretches out in the center of the bed, not on either side, and tries to figure out how to "pose" to maximum effect. Should he go for the coy look, with one leg raised to hide the goodies, one arm to his side, and one over his chest? The "slut" look, with his legs spread wide? Or should he...
He gets distracted by looking down at his chest and getting a visual of his tattoos and piercings. Two gold rings, one through each nipple. A navel ring. The tribal design Rack spent so much time over, a totem on his chest in bright primary colors. A bear, Rack said, because Daniel reminds him of a bear. Big, shaggy, and willing to do anything to protect those who he sees as his own. His cubs.
And then there's the big red arrow and flag pointing to Daniel's cock. He runs a finger across the letters. M-I-N-E. Rack put that there, long before they even talked about commitment or anything along those lines. They knew, way back then, that they belonged to one another. Daniel rubs his thumb up and down the flag, feeling himself grow pensive.
How's he gonna handle six weeks without Rack? Nobody clinging to him in the middle of the night like an octopus with a few extra arms. No one to scold him about dr
inking too much coffee, and no one to tease about smoking more than he should. No sweet good-morning kisses when they're both sleepy, and no deep, wet, raunchy kisses when they're both horny.
Daniel figures on making really good friends with his right hand over the next month and a half.
Although really, it's not about the sex -- although make no mistake, it is fantastic, write-home-about, earth shattering sex. It's more about how much he'd wanted to hang out with this crowd, to be a part of Rack's world. The bright and colorful world he loves almost as much as the sphere of his workshop. He'd really been looking forward to getting more body mods done, at Rack's hands.
Instead, he had to whip out his dick in front of a bunch of no-brains, and now he has bupkus.
