by A. E. Wasp
What could Dmitri say to that? It was true. Sure, he’d had to deal with some bullying at school and the general homophobia of Western society, but he never had to worry about his parents not loving him because of who he was
“As long as I know you’ll tell them eventually. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like you’re embarrassed by me. And, and I don’t know if it’s jumping the gun to say this, but I kinda want to be in your life for a long time. That means one day I’m going to have to meet your family.”
Troy set on the edge of the examination table, twisting his wool cap in his hand. “I know. And I don’t want to go without you. I need you there. I know I’m going to need you there as much as I need Sweetie maybe more.”
“So what do you want to do?”
Troy reached for Dmitri with both hands and Dmitri came to stand between his legs. Troy slid his hands around Dmitri’s hips. “Come with me? Come with me to my parents’ house.”
“As your boyfriend? Or friend?”
Troy took a deep breath. It seemed like every step he took required all the bravery he could muster.
Dmitri thought Troy had been brave in Afghanistan, but he’d told Dmitri that the things he had to do since getting back – admitting his weaknesses, admitting he was scared, and admitting to himself and others that he was gay – sometimes felt as if they dwarfed anything he had to do in the war.
“Can we start with friend?” he asked. “I know it’s cowardly, I know it. And I hate myself for even asking. But I need you there. With me.”
“Best friends, at least?”
Troy smiled. “Of course. We can get matching bracelets.”
Dmitri grabbed for Troy’s arms where they held his hips. “You know I’m there for you, babe. However, you need me. I can be just your friend if that’s what you need.” He pushed in close to Troy, sliding his hands up to Troy’s neck and tilting his head up and bending down for a kiss. It was a good kiss; he gave it everything he had. Swiping his tongue across Troy’s lips until he opened his mouth and let Dmitri in.
Dmitri cradled Troy’s skull in the palm of one hand while he kissed all the breath from his lungs. Troy’s hands tightened on Dmitri’s hips, and he pulled Dmitri flush against him. They made out pressing against each other until Dmitri felt as if he was two seconds away from having sex with Troy right on the table. With a groan, he pulled off of Troy and stepped back, glad for the white lab coat that he could draw around him.
The evidence of Troy’s arousal, however, was plain to see. Dmitri bit his lower lip and ran his hands over Troy’s erection, pressing hard.
Troy closed his eyes and groaned. He grabbed Dmitri’s hand by the wrist to stop him “God, stop. That’s not fair.”
“And it’s not something a best friend would do either,” Dmitri grinned. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you the whole time we’re at your parents’ house. We’ll probably have to sneak off somewhere to make out, like teenagers. Is there a barn? Always wanted to have my way with some hot cowboy in a barn.”
Troy stood up adjusting himself in his pants. “There’s no barn, but I will have my truck. We’ll probably have to pick up groceries at some point, and it’s a long dark road to the grocery store.”
“I like the way you think, Detroit.”
Dmitri walked Troy back to the waiting room, keeping his hands to himself, figuring it was good practice for his Christmas break. “Wait a second, did you say we’ll have your truck? We’re driving?”
“Yep. I gotta take Sweetie, and I don’t think she’d do well on the plane. Plus it will be fun. I haven’t been on a road trip in forever.”
“How long does it take to drive to West Virginia?”
“Twenty-two hours.”
Dmitri groaned.
“With two drivers, we can do it in two long days.”
“But your truck’s a manual. I don’t know how to drive a stick.”
Troy hooked a finger into the belt loops of Dmitri’s pants and whispered into his ear. “Oh I don’t know, I think you drive stick just fine.”
Dmitri smacked him with an open hand. “You’ll be singing a different tune day two into a three-day road trip as the only driver.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll teach you how to drive before we leave. It’s easy. You’ll pick it up in a jiffy.”
“You’d better hope I do.” He planted a quick kiss on Troy’s lips. “Angel is going to be so jealous.”
“We’ll bring her next time.” Troy kissed Dmitri back. “See you after work.”
Dmitri watched him walk across the parking lot. It was a nice view. When he turned back to the room, the woman from earlier caught his eye and smiled.
“Everything good?”
“Going to meet the parents,” Dmitri admitted, raising his eyebrows.
She laughed. “At Christmas? Good luck!”
“Thanks.” Dmitri bent down to look into the cage. A small black kitten sat with her feet tucked up under her, eyes wide as she stared around the unfamiliar place. “What’s wrong with the kitty?”
“Oh, nothing,” she answered. “Just getting spayed.”
The small child tugged at Dmitri’s coat. “She has to get an operation, so she doesn’t get pregnant because cats have sex and make babies just like people. Only they have more kittens than people have babies because people only have one baby at a time.” He paused. “Usually. Mostly.”
Dmitri met the woman’s eyes, and they shared a smile. “That is one hundred percent correct,” he told the little boy. “Good luck with your cat,” he said to the woman.
“Thanks.”
As he walked back to his lab, Dmitri wondered if he had made a mistake by not having his own practice.
chapter four - baby, it’s cold outside
The red truck lurched and bounced as Dmitri steered for the gate. With a jolt that threw him forward into the steering wheel, the truck shuddered and stalled. “Damn it,” Dmitri said, throwing the stick shift into neutral.
“You did good,” Troy assured him. “Going around turns in the hardest part.”
“Tell that to your transmission.”
Troy patted the dashboard. “Rusty’s fine. If I didn’t destroy the tranny in all these years, you’re not going to do it in one afternoon.”
Moby ran up to the truck, barking and wagging her feathery tail. She thought the whole thing was great fun and had been chasing Troy and Dmitri up and down the long driveway all day.
Dmitri had given up watching out for her; it was one less thing to worry about. He’d always thought of himself as fairly coordinated, but having to drive with both feet and both hands doing different things all while trying not to crash made him feel like he was back in his first day of driver’s ed.
Now the setting sun was sending blinding light through the dusty windshield, adding another layer of difficulty to the task. “I don’t want to try it anymore. You can drive the whole way. We’ll be fine.”
Troy slid across the bench seat and ran his hand down the inside of Dmitri’s thighs. He leaned his mouth right against Dmitri’s ear. Dmitri shivered at the feel of Troy’s lips on the shell of his ear.
“Tell you what,” Troy whispered, trailing his fingers down the seams of Dmitri’s jeans. “You give it a half an hour more try, and a test run down to the corner and back, and I’ll make it very worth your while.”
Dmitri whined, hands tightening around the steering wheel when Troy’s hand slid right up between his legs at the same time Troy bit gently at the side of his neck. He reached for Troy, but Troy back away quickly with a laugh.
“Suddenly I’m much more motivated,” Dmitri said.
“Imagine that. Now, clutch, put her in reverse, and let’s go.”
Three days later, Dmitri had seen more corn and gas stations and truck stops than he’d seen in his life. They’d played the top hits from the 90s to now multiple times, singing the lyrics as best they could. After a near miss with a Nissan Sentra, because Dmitri was l
aughing too hard to see straight, Troy was forbidden from making up lyrics while he was driving.
They’d gone through seven states and stayed in the skeeziest motel Dmitri had ever seen in his life. It had been built in the sixties, he guessed, updated in the eighties and untouched since. It had real metal keys, bare outlets on the walls; an old tube television bolted to the dresser, and a blanket made out of some material that had obviously been created in a laboratory and managed to feel both greasy and stiff at the same time.
Troy had grabbed their pillows and two sleeping bags out of the back of the truck, pushed the blankets of unknown origin onto the floor, and spread the sleeping bags and Dmitri out over the bed. Then he did things to Dmitri that had Dmitri crying out and the occupants of the room next door banging on the walls and telling them to keep it down.
The next day, Dmitri told Troy that the sixty dollars they had paid for the room were the most bang for the buck he’d ever gotten. Troy laughed. The third time Dmitri said it, Troy threatened to leave him at a truck stop in the middle of Ozarks, and he could find his own way to West Virginia. “I’m sure a nice trucker would be more than happy to give you a ride.”
After that, Dmitri contented himself with eating caramel corn - Troy’s road trip snack of choice - and tallying up the number of strip joints they passed as they drove through the bible belt.
It was fully dark as they drove through the quiet streets of Clarksburg, West Virginia and coasted into the Johnson’s neighborhood. Troy’s mom met them in the driveway.
Dmitri went around to the back of the truck to get their suitcases out while Troy held his mother in a tight hug for a long time, longer than he had when he’d gotten back from Afghanistan eight months ago.
It felt like a lifetime; he was a different person. Sweetie’s presence at his side was a constant reminder of that. The top of his mother’s head barely came up to his chin, though he wasn’t tall at five-ten, he’d passed her by the time he was twelve. She was the child of Italian immigrants, and he’d gotten his dark hair and blue eyes from her.
His mother was the rock of the family, holding them together with food and love and an unshakeable faith in a caring, loving God. It was that last part that had Troy so very worried about how she would react to his news.
“Oh, I missed you, baby,” she said. Then she whacked him on the arm. “You could call every now and then. A postcard. Something.”
“I’m sorry. Can you hit me more inside? It’s freezing.”
“Oh, of course. Do you want to put the dog in the yard?” Theresa wasn’t big on animals in the house.
Sweetie looked up at him as if she understood and was okay with whatever he needed to do. “No, mom. Sweetie stays with me. She’s my service dog.”
Theresa pulled her sweater tighter around her. “What? Like a seeing eye dog?”
“Kind of, yeah. But for, well, for PTSD.” He should have told her about Sweetie before this. He really hadn’t planned on having this discussion on the driveway, in the cold and dark, when he could still feel the rumble of the road vibrating through his legs and his hands were still shaking from the endless cups of coffee he’d drunk over the last twelve hours.
Theresa’s hand covered her mouth, and her eyes grew wide. Troy was saved from trying to find something to say by Dmitri’s hand on his shoulder. He held out his other hand to Theresa.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. Nice to meet you. Troy’s told me so many good things about you. I hate to interrupt, but I really need to use the restroom. Do you mind?”
Troy silently thanked Dmitri’s quick thinking as his mom kicked into hostess mode and led them into the house.
“I hope you boys don’t mind sharing your old room. I want your sister and Sean to stay over. Paul Junior can double up with Davey in his room. It’ll be crowded, but I just want everyone to be together for Christmas morning.”
“It will be fine, Mom. Don’t worry about it. We have some sleeping pads in the truck. Even brought our own pillows.”
“Oh, good. Okay, I’ll put the coffee on. And I made some pasta. We can eat.” She hugged him, and then left him at the foot of the stairs leading up to his old bedroom.
Troy knew there was no stopping her from feeding them, despite the fact that it was close to nine pm and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed. And only partially to avoid having the conversations he knew he was going to have to have. On the other hand, he really missed his mom’s food. He loved Colorado, but the Italian food out there couldn’t hold a candle to West Virginia’s.
Dmitri came out of the bathroom and walked to Troy. He had caught himself before he got too close, and Troy could see him trying to gauge what a normal, just-friends distance to stand would be. He ached to pull Dmitri in for a hug, just to put an arm around him and lean his head against his shoulder. Nothing outrageous, nothing he would have felt uncomfortable doing had Dmitri been a girl.
If Dmitri had been a girl, his mother would have been all over it. She’d probably clap her hands and cry if she saw Troy hugging a girl. Then again, his mother wouldn’t let a girl sleep in Troy’s room, so there was that.
He smiled at Dmitri. “My mom wants to know if you mind sharing a room with me.”
Dmitri raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Do you snore?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s bad.”
“Maybe I’d better sleep on the couch.”
Troy’s eyes dropped to Dmitri’s mouth, and he licked his lips unconsciously. Dmitri had a gorgeous mouth, full lips, very kissable. It was one of the first things Troy had noticed about him.
The pupils of Dmitri’s eyes expanded, and his whole body relaxed. He took a step towards Troy, biting his lip.
“Boys, dinner!” Theresa called from the kitchen.
Troy bit back a groan of disappointment. Dmitri closed his eyes and breathed deeply, pulling himself together. “Maybe I really ought to sleep on the couch.”
Troy patted him roughly on the shoulder as he passed. “It’s my childhood bedroom. All my football gear is probably still in there. Mom never throws anything out. Probably still fits.” He could feel Dmitri’s eyes on his butt as he followed.
“Kinky. I like it.”
Troy slid into his usual spot. Sweetie lay at his feet, under the table. His mother gave the dog a stern look, and Sweetie thumped her tail against the floor with a doggie smile. Theresa bent down to pet her, rubbing her roughly behind the ears. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” She stood back up. “Just keep her out of my way,” she said to Troy.
“She’ll be slipping her meatballs under the table before the night is over,” Troy whispered to Dmitri. “Where’s dad?” he asked his mother.
“He just ran to the store to get some wine. He’ll be back. And your brother and sister will be over tomorrow. And Davy is out with Tina Fredericks, remember her?”
“Yeah, sure. Charlene’s little sister, right?”
Theresa looked pleased Troy remembered and pushed a plate of pepperoni rolls towards him. “Yes, that’s right. They both might stop by tomorrow, before Midnight Mass.”
“I thought you were Methodist,” Dmitri said.
“Dad is, and mostly we were raised that way. But we alternate Christmas Eve service. You’re in luck. Midnight Mass is the best. All the smells and bells you could want.”
The screen door banged. “Is my boy home?” Troy’s dad called from the front door. “I see that old truck made it the whole way.”
Troy jumped up from the table and walked over to meet him. “Hey, Dad.”
“Troy!” Troy’s dad gave him a huge hug, the cold from outside radiating off his jacket. He held a big box of wine in one hand. “How was the drive?”
Dmitri stood up from the table.
“Not bad.” Troy took the wine from his father. “I taught Dmitri here how to drive a stick the day before. Luckily, there’s a lot of highway between here and there. Lots of highways.”
Dmitri walked over to join them.
&n
bsp; “Hello, Mr. Johnson.”
Paul Johnson shook his head and took in Dmitri’s blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and tall skinny frame. “Dmitri? You don’t look Russian.”
“I’m not. My parents met in a Russian Lit class.”
“His brother’s name is Vladimir,” Troy added.
Paul laughed. “I guess Paul Junior can stop complaining now.”
He shrugged off his coat, dropped in on the back of the couch, and joined them at the table. For once, Theresa actually sat down and ate with them. Troy remembered many meals where Theresa spend so much time popping up and down to serve people; they’d be finished before she was even halfway through.
“So how do you know Troy?” Paul asked. “You two work together?”
“Kind of,” Troy answered.
“My best friend Angel works with Troy at the bar. I just hang around there,” Dmitri explained. “I have a job, I swear. I’m a vet,” he added at Paul’s suspicious look.
“Oh, like Troy,” Theresa said.
Troy laughed. “No, like a veterinarian. Funny enough, though, that’s how we met. Angel told me he was a vet and we should probably hang out.”
“Didn’t she know what kind of vet you were?”
“She knew,” Troy said. “She just didn’t tell us.”
Dmitri smiled at Troy. “She thought it was funny.”
“It’s kind of funny.” Paul stretched out, looking confused when his foot hit something. He ducks his head down to look. “Is there a dog under the table?”
“That’s Sweetie. Detroit’s service dog.” Theresa’s hand disappeared under the table, and Troy felt Sweetie take something gently from her.
“Mom, don’t feed her from the table. She’s working.”
Paul looked at his son and his wife. “I don’t get it. Are you hurt? And you didn’t tell us.”
Dmitri kept eating, but he reached out with his other hand to gently squeeze Troy’s knee. It was all he could do.
“Can I have some wine, Mom?” Troy asked.
