by Jerry Cole
"Hey."
Asher's voice, unexpectedly close, spooked Daniel and made him drop the washcloth. Asher, sitting just behind him, picked it up, offering Daniel an ace bandage with his other hand.
"I found it while I was packing everything else up," he said. "For your ankle. You can't be treating my injuries and ignoring your own."
"Right, thanks," Daniel agreed, embarrassed, and accepted the bandage, leaning down to begin wrapping it around his ankle. He wasn't sure if it would do much good with how much he'd already walked on it, but he supposed it had to be better than nothing.
He'd barely begun when he was startled again by the touch of a wet washcloth against his back. He looked back at Asher for an explanation, but the man only smiled.
"You don't need to do that," Daniel protested. "You should be resting."
"You took care of me," Asher replied with a shrug. "I should return the favor. Besides, doing this much won't hurt me."
He seemed determined, running the cloth over Daniel's shoulders. Daniel, uneasy, let him continue, returning to bandaging his foot. The rough terrycloth was soothing against his skin even if the water was cold, running down his back in rivulets that gathered on the floor beneath him.
Asher was patient and thorough, taking his time as the cloth drifted lower over Daniel's ribs, towards the small of his back. Daniel, done with his ankle, felt his heart skip a beat as Asher leaned closer. He felt the cloth on his hip and Asher's other hand on his arm as the larger man pressed a single warm kiss to the back of Daniel's neck.
"All done," Asher reported in a low, satisfied tone, pulling away and leaving Daniel feeling cold for more than one reason. He said nothing about the kiss, and neither did Daniel.
Daniel hurried to put his clothes back on, heart racing. Behind him Asher was pulling on long thermal underwear and a sweater from the box. They didn't fit well, but they were better than nothing. Daniel felt better and more civilized than he had since the river.
"Well, now that we're clean and fed," Asher said, hoisting the bottle of whiskey. "How about we enjoy ourselves a little before bed?"
The wiser part of Daniel knew this was, without question, a bad idea, but he nodded anyway, smiling. "Just a little though," he argued. "We don't need hangovers in the morning on top of everything else."
Asher laughed. "The day I get hung over from one bottle of whiskey is the day I give up drinking," he said, and poured a shot into the cap.
Chapter Thirteen
As the wiser part of Daniel had warned him would happen, more than half the whiskey bottle was soon gone, and the two men, well beyond tipsy though not truly blind drunk, were leaning on each other, laughing hysterically at some anecdote Asher was struggling to finish.
"So then the guy…He's still insisting he can pay, right?" Asher wheezed between laughing. "And he just keeps coming back with more goats! Until there's just a herd of them out in front of the building, and every time the machine inside goes off they all fall over like a ton of bowling pins. Like thirty of these tiny goats just lying all over the place and this crazy yokel standing in the middle and demanding we take them!"
Daniel was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, clinging to Asher to keep himself upright, tears of mirth in his eyes. "God," he said when he could speak again, gulping for air. "I had no idea the life of a mob thug was actually a sitcom."
"Well, I'm sugar coating a lot, obviously," Asher was still chuckling, leaning back against the bed as he tried to recover. "But honestly, that's what it feels like some days. People will do the most absurd bullshit when they think they're beyond the law. Not even illegal shit, just weird shit. I could get three degrees in psychology and I probably still wouldn't understand it. People are a fuckin' mystery."
"Agreed," Daniel chuckled. "Just the people in my office are so baffling sometimes. Like Lynda. I don't think I've ever actually learned her last name because she's so insistent on everyone calling her Lynda. With a Y! And what's with all the cacti? She fusses over them like they’re priceless orchids or something. I thought the whole point of succulents is that you don't have to take care of them?"
"You're one to talk," Asher laughed. "You're the most baffling person I ever met. Do you have any idea how confusing you are? At first I thought all that stuck up stiffness was because you thought you were too good for everyone. Then it turns out it's actually the opposite, and you're just screamingly insecure and can't open up about it—"
"Hey," Daniel frowned, in too good a mood to be properly insulted but not wanting to let it go either. Asher grinned and held up his hands apologetically.
"You look like this soft, delicate thing," Asher went on, "but out here you've been tougher than pretty much anyone I've ever met. You're brave as hell. You pulled that stick out of me with barely a complaint, kept my dumb ass alive all this time. And then you tell me you're scared of the dark. People are confusing but you—you're something special."
For some reason, that made Daniel smile. Asher thought he was special. He was slumped against the other man's side, grinning up at him. The whiskey felt warm inside him, and he was still flush with relief at their survival. Outside a blizzard was raging that would have certainly killed them if they'd remained out in it, and instead they'd found this place and were in better shape than they had been since getting lost. The little bit of luck Daniel had been praying for had showed up after all. And right now, safe and warm and full, Asher looking down at him with those powerful blue eyes while the wind howled outside the walls and the fire cast golden shadows on his face, Daniel couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be.
And then Asher kissed him.
It happened so slowly and naturally that Daniel almost didn't realize what was happening. Asher's mouth was warm against his, and though his lips were chapped from the cold and his chin was stubbled from days without shaving, it was the sweetest kiss Daniel had ever experienced. There was no urgency to it. Asher was in no rush. It just was, and it was perfect. Daniel could taste the whiskey on Asher's lips, and the graze of his tongue sent shivers up Daniel's spine like a rush of electricity. He'd kissed women before, plenty of times. Even, maybe especially, while drunk like this. He couldn't blame it on the drink or the situation or Asher's skill. And yet he knew no kiss had ever been this good before. Heat pooled like honey, dripping lower.
And then it was over. Asher broke the kiss to breathe, meeting Daniel's eyes. Daniel could see the worry in his gaze, afraid he'd done the wrong thing. Daniel felt like his emotions were on a roulette wheel, spinning through his head at full speed, no one knowing what they would land on. Should he be angry? Ashamed and embarrassed? Excited?
The roulette spun to a stop on none of those things. Instead, Daniel just smiled, awkward and sad, and slowly pulled away.
"Good night, Asher," he said, the finality unquestionable. He fixed the blankets on the cot and lay down, his face to the wall. Asher said nothing, and for a moment there was only silence. Daniel heard the clink of the whiskey bottle as the tattooed man took another shot. Then the bed creaked as he climbed in. He didn't try anything. He didn't even put his arm around Daniel the way he usually did, giving Daniel his space for once. Daniel appreciated it at least as much as he regretted it. They fell asleep quickly, aided by drink and exhaustion, close together and yet worlds apart on the tiny cot.
Daniel woke first in the morning and stirred up the fire again, tearing into one of the MREs and heating up the coffee he found inside. He limped to the window as he drank it, and saw the snow still falling lightly outside.
"We should probably stay another day," Asher said behind him, holding his own coffee. "Rest and recover while we can. I think there was a map in the supplies. We can plan our way home."
"Sounds like a plan," Daniel agreed.
The snow outside wasn't bad, so after a little while Daniel took the dirty clothes out to the stream. He broke the thin sheet of ice that had sealed the shallow water, then scrubbed the blood out of Asher's shirt against t
he rocks.
The morning was quiet. A crow cawed somewhere in the trees. The early snow blanketed the world in soft white, against which the black branches of pine were all the starker. Like the dark bones of the world pressing through skin. The stream ran through it, motion frozen, a glittering blue vein, dead to all eyes but still pumping just below the cold surface.
Daniel and Asher had so far exchanged only a few cordial words. The tension between them lay as still and unbroken as the ice on the stream, glittering in the sunlight that would soon melt it. Daniel wasn't certain their problems could be resolved so easily into dew. The kiss had changed things.
For all his assertions that he didn't want Daniel that way, when Asher had kissed him, Daniel had seen the desire in his eyes, and he had seen that it was not just lust. If it had been, he wouldn't have seemed so afraid, so tender and tentative, like Daniel was a small animal he didn't want to frighten away. Of course, Daniel could have been wrong. It might have just been the whiskey, making him impulsive.
Daniel couldn't blame what he was feeling on whiskey. This conflict was purely him, his insecurities, as usual. Because that kiss... He'd liked it. Craved more of it in a way he'd never wanted anything physical before. And that meant, had to mean, he was as gay as Asher had said. As all those ex-girlfriends had said. As his parents had suspected. God, he'd been fighting it so long, and here it was, staring him in the face, unavoidable.
He wanted to kiss a man. He wanted more than that. He kept thinking about the way it felt to have Asher's arms around him. The way his heart fluttered when the handsome blond smiled at him or praised him. The incredible color of his eyes. How important his opinion was to Daniel. The way he felt when Asher said his name. The moment Daniel allowed himself to think about it, a torrent of evidence spilled out in front of him. He wanted Asher. Not just because he was a man, but because he was Asher.
Anxiety hit him like a punch to the gut as soon as he confessed it to himself. What did this mean for him? Was he going to have to change now? Become one of those flamboyant people on TV... What if these feelings didn't last beyond getting rescued? What if they got home and Daniel realized he only felt this way because of the situation they were in? What if Asher decided he'd rather be with someone less troublesome?
Asher didn't exactly seem like the settling down type. The thought made Daniel's heart wrench. He'd been straight all his life. He didn't know how to change now. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. If Asher went away, could he go back to how he was? Or would he find himself running after another man? In the end, would he just be alone, like he always had?
What if he lost his job? He didn't see Donahue being above firing someone for being gay. Would anyone else hire him if they knew? Where would he go? Even if he talked to his family, they would never take him back if they knew. And he'd always wanted kids, a family of his own. Most states still wouldn't let gay people adopt. He couldn't be gay. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk being alone forever.
Fears and doubts and desires circled around and around in his head as he worked on the clothes, hammering at them until his hands turned numb. When they were clean, he laid them over the rocks to dry and headed back inside, still plagued with insecurity. Asher was sitting near the stove, warming up lunch and looking over a worn map.
"Welcome back," he said, smiling up at Daniel like nothing had happened. "How'd the laundry treat you?"
"I'd sacrifice a few fingers for a laundromat," Daniel answered, sitting next to the other man and warming his hands by the fire. "I may lose them anyway. Figured out where we are yet?"
"I think so," Asher turned the map a little so that Daniel could see. "Based on the stream and the mountains around us, I think we're here, on Mummy Mountain. The stream probably feeds into West Creek, here. Now if we follow West Creek down to the falls, there's a trail there that'll take us down to the Cow Creek Trailhead, where there's bound to be people and phones to call for help."
"But it says here West Creek trail closes in November," Daniel said, worried, as he leaned over the map and pointed out the notation. "What if it's already shut down?"
"It won't be more dangerous than being out here," Asher said. "And the trail head will still be open. We have to try."
Daniel nodded in agreement, though he was still worried, for a variety of reasons.
"We'll leave tomorrow," Asher said, folding up the map, "as long as we feel strong enough and the snow has stopped. We've got enough MREs to last us a while, so there's no need to rush."
"Your stitches are a big concern," Daniel frowned, looking at Asher's side for any sign of blood coming through his sweater. Asher smiled and lifted his shirt to show clean bandages.
"They're holding well," he said, "You did a good job. I'm more worried about your ankle. It's not a good injury to have when you need to hike something like twelve miles."
"I've made it this far," Daniel laughed, trying to ignore the flush of warmth he felt at Asher's concern for him. "I'm not giving up now."
"I didn't think you would," Asher chuckled, mussing Daniel's hair. "But don't worry. I'm feeling so much better I could probably drag you the rest of the way in if I needed to."
"Yeah right. I'll probably end up dragging you in," Daniel shoved Asher playfully. "I've already had you collapse on me once."
"Yeah, so it's your turn!" Asher joked, pushing back, and forgetting about Daniel's dislocated shoulder. When Daniel made a sudden, stunted pain sound, Asher went white, reaching out to steady him. "Shit. Shit, I'm sorry! I forgot!"
Daniel laughed wheezily through his pain.
"It's fine. I'm fine," he promised, waving off Asher's concern. "It's just a bruise."
"I'm sorry, Danny," Asher repeated, and Daniel sensed an apology for more than just the shove behind those words.
"I'm alright," he promised, shaking his head. "And no one in my entire life has ever called me Danny."
"Well, I'm happy to be the first," Asher said primly, leaning closer and pulling at the neck of Daniel's sweater to bare his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Daniel asked, trying to lean away only to be stopped by Asher sliding an arm around his waist.
"Kissing it better," Asher answered, and touched his lips to Daniel's bruised skin in a delicate kiss. The contact sent a warm shiver through Daniel and he looked away, licking his lips.
"I'm not a child," he muttered. "That's not going to fix anything."
"I don't know," Asher was kissing his way up Daniel's shoulder towards his throat. "It's making me feel better."
Daniel, scarlet, bit his lip to stop an indecent sound from escaping as Asher's lips brushed the hollow of his throat.
"Wow," Asher murmured, awed. "I can feel your pulse. Your heart is beating so fast..." He paused and slowly drew away to meet Daniel's eye. "Are you scared?" he asked. "Do you want me to stop?"
When Daniel nodded, Asher let go at once, withdrawing a bit to give Daniel his space.
"Sorry," Asher spoke softly, like he was talking to a spooked horse. "I shouldn't have sprung that on you. I got carried away."
"It’s fine." Daniel was still scarlet with embarrassment, pulling up his sweater and keeping his face turned away.
"Last night, too," Asher continued. "It was wrong of me to force that on you. Disrespectful. It's hard, being this close to you and not being able to... But that's no excuse. I'll keep my distance, I promise."
"It's okay," Daniel insisted. "I'm not upset. I'm just... I'm still not sure about a lot of things."
"Take your time," Asher said, sitting back, and though his voice was understanding, there was hurt in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."
Chapter Fourteen
They tip-toed around each other for the second half of the day. But even strained as they were, there was something so pleasantly domestic to Daniel about sharing this space with the other man. Asher’s thoughtfulness and consideration were traits that Daniel hadn't expected from the man's initial cowboy attitude. He was quick to back o
ff if he realized something was really bothering Daniel.
They both gave each other the space they both needed. He wasn't as naturally fastidious as Daniel, but he didn't shy away from cleaning up if Daniel asked. Their styles, disparate as they were, seemed to mesh well. And Daniel found he just enjoyed watching the other man, seeing the emotions that crossed his face in everyday moments. Laughter, pensive thought, excitement, frustration. Daniel found all of Asher's reactions fascinating. The man seemed so much more alive than anyone Daniel had ever met.
In the afternoon, Asher rigged up a fishing line with the suture needle and thread and, with a great deal of enthusiasm, went out to try fishing. Daniel decided to stay in and rest his ankle, and instead worked on cataloguing their supplies and what they would be able to take with them. There was a rocking chair, which Daniel had pulled up near the fire, then tugged the kitchen table within reach so that he could sit while sorting out the supplies. He was fairly certain they could turn one of the blankets into a bag. They would take as many of the MREs as they could. The first aid kit of course. The fire starters...
His thoughts drifted back to Asher and he leaned back in his chair. The window was visible when he leaned back far enough, and he could see Asher through it, fussing around by the edge of the stream. It wasn't particularly deep, even at its deepest point, but he might catch something. Even if he didn't, Daniel knew he'd come back red-faced and smiling. That was just the kind of person he was. Daniel wished he could be more like that. More content with his situation regardless of circumstances. Abler to cheerfully push through instead of shutting down. But if he was honest, he knew his admiration for Asher went beyond just wanting to be like him.
He focused on his work, all the familiar anxieties starting up in his head again. It couldn't work. He didn't want to be that person. He was scared of how things would change, scared of taking that label. Scared of a million things, like he was scared of the dark—it was childish and irrational. But he was less scared when Asher was there. And maybe it wouldn't work, but did that make it not worth trying? Things might change when they got home. But this wasn't home, and there was no telling what might happen tomorrow. So why not? Why not?
