by Diane Adams
"Nothing." He distracted him by handing out the food. "Forgot ketchup and napkins, be right back."
Clark fled, determined to collect himself by the time he got back to the table. He filled half a dozen little paper cups with ketchup. Thankfully, the Greasy Dog didn't have the thimble sized ones like McDonald's. He grabbed a fistful of napkins, stuffing them into his front pocket so he could balance the ketchup cups. He made his cautious way back to the table, breathing a sigh of relief when he set them down safely. He tossed the wad of napkins into the middle of the table and slid into the booth across from Alex.
They looked at each other. Alex ate a fry, nibbling down its length, obviously waiting for Clark to say something.
"You grew a beard."
Alex choked a laugh, one hand going up to touch the close-trimmed fringe of whiskers covering his jaw. "Yeah, mostly because I can and, well, the scars are still kind of tender. It's easier this way."
"Can I?" Clark reached out and Alex leaned forward, letting Clark run his fingers over his jaw, the right side where the scarring had been so terrible and down his neck. "It's just gone."
"Damn faggots don't have any fucking shame."
Clark turned to see a scrawny guy standing by the table, in his early twenties or late teens, dressed all in black, including lips, nails, eye makeup, huge boots, some chains, and assorted piercings. The girl beside him was identical, their gender differentiated only by the fact she had breasts.
"Sorry, only one faggot here." Alex waved then pointed a fry at Clark. "He's straight, has like fifty kids." He shrugged as if in apology.
Clark chuckled. "Neither of us has any shame though. You kiddies stop wasting your time judging strangers and run along. And eat all your lunch because you're way too skinny."
The boy sputtered as the girl dragged him away. Clark met Alex's eyes and they erupted in laughter.
"Oh, God, we're old," Alex managed to say, wiping his eyes. "I was thinking about how skinny they looked, too."
"No worse than you." Clark frowned. "Follow my advice." He gave a fine example, picking up the messy hotdog and taking a huge bite. Chili dripped down his chin and he snagged a napkin to wipe it away. Frowning, Alex managed to take a timid nibble, and the grin of pure bliss spreading over his face gave Clark a feeling of warm satisfaction. "I told you."
"Don't gloat, it's unattractive." Alex took another, much bigger bite. "This is going to kill my stomach," he mumbled around the mess of hotdog, chili, slaw, and cheese in his mouth.
"But so worth it." Clark reached for the fries. "So what was it like, that grafting thing they did?"
Looking thoughtful, Alex finished chewing and reached for his drink. Before Clark could regret asking, Alex set the soda aside.
"It sucked so much. They put this silicone balloon thing under my skin and filled it with saline. As my skin grew and stretched to accommodate it, I had to go in and they'd inject more saline. They did my face, throat, and the back of my hand all at the same time. It hurt and I looked like…" Alex waved his hand vaguely between them, unable to find the words to describe it.
"Yeah, I know, I looked it up online. I knew it was going to be bad. Didn’t they warn you or something?" He stopped eating to meet Alex's eyes.
"Oh, yeah, they warned me. I'm sure the pictures they showed me at the doctor's office of people with faces misshapen by balloons under their skin make the ones online look like kiddy stuff. I didn't care about that. All I could see were the after pictures. With this graft I got to keep hair growth, obviously." He stroked his fingers over his bearded jaw. "Most of the pictures I saw were of people burned much worse than I was and after the procedure it was hard to tell they'd ever been burned. I wanted that. It's all I could think about. Being able to look in the mirror without seeing ugly reminders of what an idiot I am."
Clark opened his mouth to say something but Alex motioned for him to keep quiet and he ate a fry instead. "They did a psychiatric profile and everything because the procedure is so hard on people. I passed with flying colors. I thought I'd be fine, I'm not vain about my looks." Clark snorted into his soda. Alex frowned. "What? I'm not!"
"Dude, you aren't vain in the 'I'm too sexy for my life' kind of way, but what you look like to Jared is like a fundamental building block of your brain. Didn't anyone think of that? No wonder you got depressed when you started getting ugly. It must have been bad."
After a moment's hesitation, Alex nodded. He took a bite of his hotdog. "Yeah, you could say it got bad. The side of my face and neck that wasn't burned swelled up like I had huge tumors. The back of my left hand too. I couldn't draw… I couldn't do anything that mattered. I read, watched TV, and stared at the wall wondering what Jared thought." Alex bit his lip and the shadows in his eyes deepened. "I was in a dark place, Clark. Dark. I didn't expect it. I mean, I can usually deal with stuff, you know?"
Nodding, Clark resisted the urge to reach across the table and take Alex's hand. He knew. Alex with his backbone of iron and his attitude of never give up, never say die. He'd tried more than once over the last year to imagine what it had been like for his friend, laughing and happy one minute and having his world blown apart around him the next. Now he understood for the first time that the fire had burned deeper than Alex's flesh, leaving him wounded in heart and soul where no one could see. Internal wounds he'd pretended weren't there, and had suffered in silence through his hospital stay and long hours of rehab.
Clark guessed after going through so much Alex probably imagined he'd made it through the worst, and the surgery to fix his face would be an easy final step to being well. Instead the internal wounds he'd kept hidden had been rubbed raw beyond his ability to endure.
"I thought I'd be okay once the grafting was done." Alex's words confirmed his suspicions. "I took my meds on time and cared for the graft sites obsessively. I did everything they told me, but the dark didn't leave. I couldn't find my way out, and after a while I didn't want to." Alex stopped eating. He sat with his hands folded on the table staring at them, his voice barely audible.
"But you did," Clark encouraged him. "What happened?"
Alex looked up with a wiry smile. "The same thing as always. Jared." Alex dug in his front pocket and pulled something out.
Knowing Alex and Jared so well, Clark expected the worn scrap of paper Alex handed to him. Clark carefully unfolded it.
Don't go
Something about those two words chilled Clark to the bone and he realized for the first time how far into that dark place Alex had gone. "Oh my God, Alex."
His smile no more than a pained twisting of his lips, Alex retrieved the scrap from Clark's palm, refolding it and tucking it back into his pocket. "It's stupid, I know, but it was Jared at exactly the right second, as usual. We'll all be screwed if his timing ever goes." He gave a short, brittle laugh. "I've been getting better ever since. No more freezing myself in the snow." Alex rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know I've worried the hell out of you and Stevie… everyone, I guess."
Clark shook his head. "No apologies. We wanted you to get better… and you are, right?"
Alex's face relaxed, the light returned to his eyes. "Yes, much better."
"Eat your hotdog. Sunday, you guys can come over and we'll cookout, steak and hot dogs on the grill." Clark winked and devoured half of his remaining hotdog in a single bite.
"God, Johnson, grow up." Alex made a face at his lack of manners.
Clark recognized Alex's attempt to change the subject and laughed obligingly, relaxing as the last bit of worry and tension knotting the pit of his stomach faded away. He knew Alex, and more than his words, Alex's body language and his attitude showed him he had really begun to emerge from the dark place that had stolen him away over the past months.
Alex's voice broke into his thoughts. "Okay, that's more than enough about me and my woes. Tell me what's been going on with you guys. I missed a hell of a lot. Jared told me your twins came out. How's that going?"
Clark shook his head. "
Who knows? We've all avoided needing therapy so far. I think Jay has put getting beat up behind him a lot faster than I could have, like he wants to forget it ever happened. I'm not sure his method of dealing with what happened is for the best. Then again, he talks to Xander more than he ever has Stevie and me, so it could be enough. I'm keeping my eye on him. He's got a crush on some neighborhood kid, seems pretty one-sided from what I can tell." Clark paused, eating a few fries and gathering his thoughts.
His oldest sons took up most of his attention recently. He found it hard not to worry or fall into over-protective-dad mode, neither of which would have productive results. "Jay mentions him often enough but we haven't seen a sign of him. Xander? He's crushing on the guy who owns that gas station/fix-it shop on the corner of Elm Street, the Junkyard."
Alex looked up from finishing off his hotdog, surprise written on his face. "Casey? Seriously? Dude, he's old."
Clark cocked a brow at Alex. "Yeah, almost our age right?"
Alex laughed at himself with a shrug. Clark knew how he felt. Thirty-two, it hit him like a ton of bricks every once in a while and he wondered how he'd gotten so old without noticing. The years between being fifteen and the present seemed impossibly short and like forever in the same breath.
"Still, old for Xander," Alex amended.
"So you'd think. He must think Stevie and I are mentally challenged since he seems to believe it's a secret. The kid's over there every second he's not doing schoolwork or helping Jared. He says Casey is teaching him to fix cars." Clark's dry tone made it clear what he thought about Xander's claim.
"I didn't know Xander was interested in cars."
"Exactly," Clark sighed, shaking his head. "They're making me old before my time."
"A guy that age… have you thought about telling Xander to stay away from Casey?" Alex looked worried, his expression reflecting exactly how Clark had felt since he realized where his son's interest lay.
"You know that won't work. Nothing makes a teenager dig in their heels more than forbidding something. Besides, if not Casey, there will be someone else, and Xander will figure out he's not as slick as he thinks and learn how to really sneak around. I stopped by the shop the other day, and Casey seems like a decent enough guy." Clark tore pieces off the last bit of his hotdog bun, letting them fall to litter the tray. He reminded himself he had to trust his boys until they betrayed his trust. Clark and Stevie had agreed to handle the situation that way, but it didn't make doing so easy.
"Yeah, guess I see your point. Man, being a parent is hard."
Clark gave Alex a small knowing smile. "But you still want to do it."
Alex shifted a little in his seat. "Yeah, well, maybe one day, but after last year I think that discussion has been tabled indefinitely. I'm not exactly the most stable option for an adoptive parent at the moment." He leaned forward and his expression, a combination of concern and mischievousness, set off warnings in Clark's head. "I know you guys want to trust the boys, but you've talked to them about being safe right?"
Looking pained, Clark sat up straight against the high back of the booth. "Being safe isn't a matter of trust. That’s more of a reality issue. You and Jared, Stevie and I, we aren't normal, you know… I mean, what we all have is great and everything. I want love like that for the boys, for all my kids, more than anything, but yeah."
"I get it. Name one other person we know personally who's never had sex with more than one partner. Even Jared doesn't fall in that category." Alex leaned to whisper. "We're weird."
Clark huffed a laugh. "Exactly."
"You did, you talked to them." A wicked smile lit Alex’s face. "I bet you made a mess of it."
He grimaced. "It wasn't too bad, except for the cucumber."
"Cucumber?" Alex looked blank and then burst out laughing. "Tell me you didn't."
Shrugging off his discomfort, Clark couldn't stop the blush turning his fair skin bright red. "What was I supposed to use? An anatomically correct dildo?
Alex laughed so hard tears gathered in his eyes. "You should have called. I could have come up with one you could borrow."
Narrowing his eyes, Clark leaned across the table to hiss. "I have my own, thank you very much." The way Alex's mouth snapped shut and his eyes bugged out made it worth the embarrassment of admitting such a personal fact.
Clark grinned with satisfaction. He left to Alex's imagination what a het couple did with such a thing, aware the unknown would torture him far more than the truth.
"I'll tell you one thing, if you ever have to use a condom for anything you better practice first. Knowing the how of it is not the same as doing it." Clark laughed at the memory, the horror on his boys' faces and the way Xander had finally gasped out his opinion the lube should go on after the condom. "I think I managed to get the facts of safe sex across to them. I don't expect pledges of purity from them. I know they understand gay men can have a relationship that's built on more than sex. They've grown up with you and Jared, but maybe you guys could talk to them? They're on the brink of making choices that will affect the rest of their lives and I'm afraid for them."
"Sure, of course we will. I'll come pick them up one day soon and we'll get ice cream or something." Alex grinned before his expression turned more somber. "Don't worry too much, they’re good boys and you're doing a great job, Clark." Alex seemed to have more to say but his phone rang. Distracted he pulled it out of pocket to look at the screen. "I have to take this." Clark nodded and finished his soda while Alex listened to his phone with no more than a few "uh huh" and "I understand", and finally, "that's it, exactly. Call Jared and set up the appointment. See you later this week." Alex thumbed off the call and lifted his eyes to meet Clark's. "Guess I'm going to be a millionaire." His voice sounded numb.
His lack of expression set off alarms in Clark’s head. "Alex, are you okay? What are you talking about?"
"Yeah, sure, I'm fine.” Alex tried to down play his reaction but he wouldn’t meet Clark’s eyes. “It's just… why do people think money fixes everything?"
"I don't know." He watched Alex roll the corner of the paper lining the red plastic Greasy Dog tray with single minded concentration.
Clark thought Alex had decided not to talk about it when he sat back against the booth and clasped his fidgety fingers in his lap. "So, now Jared and I can do anything, have everything we can imagine. At the meager cost of our home and most of my sanity."
"Alex." Clark had no idea what to say. He got up and went around the table to sit beside his friend.
Alex didn’t seem to notice. His stare remained fixed on the place Clark had vacated.
"Three million dollars. I tried to make a demand so ridiculous they'd never agree, but they settled." He turned and looked at Clark, his emotional struggle visible in his shadowed eyes. “You know, that means everyone accepted those terms, even families who lost someone. How could they? If Jared died in the accident three million wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough.”
Closing his eyes, Alex let his head fall back against the booth. “I didn’t lose Jared, just the house, but it still doesn’t seem like it’s costing them enough.”
“Then why did you agree to settle? Why not force them to court?”
Alex shook his head. A single tear traced a path down his cheek. “Because I’m so tired and there has to be an end, or I’m not going to make it.”
Clark pulled Alex into his arms, hugging him hard. “Then you’re doing the right thing, because you and Jared have paid enough.”
Alex wrapped his arms around Clark’s waist and hid his face against his chest. Reassured by Alex’s willingness to accept comfort, Clark held him close.
It was a long time before Alex sat up to give him a rueful smile.
“See, just almost better.”
As far as Clark was concerned ‘almost better’ seemed pretty damned good when he considered the alternative. He turned to pile their trash onto the try, giving Alex a chance to collect himself.
Glanc
ing at him from the corner of his eyes, Clark judged the time was right inject a little levity. “Right, drama queen, any excuse to grab me. I know you want my body.”
Alex burst out laughing. “You wish, Johnson. You’ve been lusting after me since high school.”
They bumped shoulders as they walked together towards to trash cans.
“Dream on, Ross, your tits aren’t big enough for me,” Clark wise-cracked.
Staring down at his chest, Alex came to a dead stop in the middle of the Greasy Dog. “Did you just say the only thing standing between you and me is a boob job? Because I can afford that now.” He sounded so serious Clark turned to gape at him. Pinching the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, Alex pulled it away from his chest to resemble two pointy boobs. “Look at these.” He leered at Clark, waggling his brows, and they both fell apart, laughing until their eyes watered and they were in danger of being thrown out of the restaurant.
They left before that happened. They made their way to the parking lot chuckling, Clark’s arm wrapped around Alex’s shoulders. Clark knew their hilarity didn’t actually stem from Alex’s poor taste in humor, but their mutual relief at realizing he truly was healing emotionally as well as physically.
Tangled Up in You
"Jared, what time did you say our reservations are for?" Alex squinted at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and struggled with his tie.
The knot refused to cooperate and exasperated with his effort, Alex sighed, unfastening it to try again. Though traditionally they all but ignored the hearts and flowers holiday, this time Jared seemed intent on having a perfect Valentine's Day, complete with a formal dinner out. Alex thought spending the night eating doughnuts and snuggling on the couch sounded perfect, but the secretive smile playing around Jared's mouth roused his curiosity beyond his ability to protest. Finally knotting the tie to his satisfaction, he studied his appearance. Jared had gone behind his back to buy the suit. Their tailor had Alex's pre-fire measurements and the dark suit hung a little loose, but he'd gained enough weight it didn't look like a sack. He'd trimmed his beard close and neat, but his hair still curled out of control over his ears and collar. He turned away from the mirror without attempting to tame it. Jared liked the shaggy curls, and Alex had decided looking like an aging hippy didn't seem so bad when Jared's fingers were tangled in the wild mess.
