Chapter 7
Ricky couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Sitting on the couch in the living room of a gay man, drinking beer and watching a football game on the large, flat-screen TV against one wall. He'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that gay men COULD like sports; they were total pansies, after all. He glanced over at James, ensconced in his comfortable leather chair, and mused to himself silently that the cop was far from a pansy. Except for the fact that he liked other men sexually, there was nothing at all flamboyantly gay about James Belmont. You couldn't have told just looking at him that he was gay. Ricky wouldn't have guessed it in a million years if he hadn't been told.
He studied James' profile. The other man's face was a bit craggy, especially in the cheekbones. He had a firm chin, a mouth starting to be bracketed with smile lines, and a slightly arched nose. His eyes, when they stared steadily at you, were a blue-grey in color. Like a storm-tossed sea, Ricky thought fancifully, then pulled himself up sharply. Why was he thinking poetic shit about the color of another man's EYES?!
James turned his head, as though he'd felt the weight of Ricky's stare. Their eyes met, and for some reason Ricky felt rather breathless all of a sudden. What the fuck?! What was happening here?! Alarm bells were going off shrilly in his head, and he surged abruptly to his feet. "I've got to go!" he cried in a rather high, shrieky sort of voice that made him wince internally. He sounded like a little girl.
"Okay," James said quietly. He studied Ricky's flushed face. "Are you all right, Ricky?" he asked.
"Yeah," he said hurriedly, setting his almost empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Sure. I-I'll see you later, James. Thanks for the beer, and talking to me, and everything..." he began to back toward the door, preparing to flee.
The cop frowned slightly. He looked puzzled. Ricky couldn't blame him, but he wasn't going to try to explain his weird behavior. He had to get out of here! "Bye!" he cried, then dashed toward the door as though somebody had set his ass on fire. He felt like a total pussy as he hurried out the door, but he couldn't help it. His reaction to James had scared the living daylights out of him.
He practically ran over to his car, jumping inside and starting the engine. He saw James appear at the door, the cop staring at him. James lifted a hand in a silent farewell, and Ricky waved back. He didn't want James to think that he was mad at him or anything...because he wasn't. He just...had to get away from here! He pulled recklessly away from the curb, roaring away down the street into the night.
James watched his taillights receding. He shook his head. What had that been about? Ricky had been good all evening. They'd had a long talk about their jobs and various other subjects, and then they'd started to watch a football game. Then, all of a sudden, Ricky had jumped up like he'd been stung and had run out of the house. He had no idea what had caused Ricky to behave that way. Hopefully he'd find out soon, because he was kind of confused.
Ricky retreated to his bedroom as soon as he got home. he huddled up on top of his bed, hugging his knees. His eyes, in the mirror on top of his dresser, were too wide and showing a bit too much white. He laughed in cracked sort of way at his own expression. He looked like a man who'd just seen a ghost.
He wasn't stupid. He knew that something momentous had happened to him at James' house. He didn't even want to think about what that might have been, because he simply couldn't. He felt weak and sick with fear whenever he did. His mind raced in circles, rejecting with all of its might the implications of that incident. He wasn't even going to think about it. No, he definitely wasn't. Nothing had happened. Nothing at all. And that was the way it was going to stay. He lifted his chin a bit, and the mirror him did the same. "Nothing happened," he said aloud. "Nothing at all."
Ricky avoided James entirely for several days after that, too weirded out still to be able to face him. he went to work and then went straight home every day, but eventually the silence and emptiness in his house started to get to him. It made him restless. He'd never realized before this that he didn't really have any close friends; just some guys he hung out with at a bar occasionally, or did other guy things with. But those guys were from his old life, and he wasn't certain that he could sit around and listen to them trash 'faggots' and 'niggers' and 'bitches' anymore without protesting and getting his head beaten in for his troubles. And in his new life, he still hadn't quite made any friends at work yet. So the only friend that he had right now, in this interim period...was James. And he missed that friend acutely.
He wanted to see James again, to talk to him, to hang out with him. But always, at the back of his head, was that memory of...whatever that had been...between them when their eyes had met the other night. He was afraid that might happen again. And he was even more afraid that this time he might be forced to think about just what it might be, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that. So he dithered, and worried, and fretted, until finally he couldn't take the emptiness in his house anymore. He called James, worrying at his lip as his cell phone rang.
"Hello?" he heard James' voice say on the other end.
"James? Uh, it's me, Ricky," he said apologetically.
Silence. Then: "Ricky." James' voice was carefully neutral, and he winced.
"Listen, I'm sorry I ran out like that the other night. I just...I don't really know what happened. I guess I freaked out. I think maybe I realized I was alone with a gay guy, and I sort of...lost it," Ricky said, all of which was true but only partly the truth.
"I see," James said.
"I know it was stupid," he continued, "I know you wouldn't try to do anything to me. I guess it's just a knee-jerk reaction. I really am sorry," he said woefully.
"It's all right, Ricky. You don't change from a homophobe to someone who accepts gay people overnight with no effort," James replied seriously.
"Yeah," he said. "Umm...would it be okay if I came over to your house again? I swear that I won't run away this time!" he vowed.
"You could come over tomorrow afternoon. But I warn you, I'm having my backyard barbeque then. Are you okay with being around a crowd of people? Especially since some of them will be my gay friends?"
He swallowed. "I can handle it," he said in suppressed relief. He'd much rather be around a whole crowd of people rather than alone again with James, but he didn't want the cop to know that.
"All right. Come at eleven o'clock. You can help me get everything set up. I could use somebody to carry heavy stuff. My side still isn't quite healed yet."
"I'll be there," Ricky said. "Can I bring anything?"
"Sure. Coleslaw, potato salad, chips, whatever you want. Any contributions are welcome," he said in faint amusement.
"I'll see you then," Ricky said happily. Much as he was freaked out about his reaction to James, he still wanted to see the man again. It sucked to be this lonely, but there was nothing else that he could do about it just yet.
Ricky pulled up in front of James' house, and jumped out of his car. he hurried around to open the trunk and start to unload all of the things he'd brought for the barbeque. He had bags of chips, tubs of coleslaw and potato salad, and some cases of various flavors of pop. He'd also brought bags of ice and store-bought cookies. He carried a large selection of bags up to the porch and rang the doorbell.
James opened the door, casually dressed in a rather loose sweatshirt with the logo of a sports team on the front and a pair of jeans that must have been difficult for him to get on. "Hey, Ricky," he greeted his guest. "Did you buy out the whole store?" he said, staring at the heaps of bags that Ricky was laden with.
He laughed, remembering a similar question about the gifts he'd brought to the hospital not so long ago. "Not all of it," he replied merrily. "Just most of it."
"Come on in," James stepped back and held the door open for him, and Ricky staggered inside with his load. "Take it all into the kitchen," he added.
Ricky did so, setting the bags on the kitchen table. He began to unpack stuff, while James eyed this bounty in a certain amount of disbelief. "You really came prepared," he noted.
Ricky set a tub of baked beans down on the table. "I just wanted to contribute," he said.
"Well, you succeeded. I appreciate it. There'll be a lot of hungry cops coming today. Have to keep them well fed."
Ricky slowed in his unpacking to look up at James questioningly. "Your fellow cops...they know that you're gay? And they're okay with it?" he asked.
James shrugged. "Not all of them are, but I don't care about them. If they can't handle my sexuality, that's their problem, not mine. Most of them are good with it, though, as long as I don't shove it in their faces. But they don't shove their heterosexuality in my face, either, so it's a good compromise. We're there to do the job, first and foremost. And they all know I've got their backs. That's what's really important to a cop."
"I guess I can see that," Ricky said slowly, returning to taking things out of the bags. "It's such a dangerous job. I don't know how you do it."
"Sometimes I don't know WHY we do it," James replied wryly. "Except that we need to. Oh, well. Some people sky dive or bungee jump. I guess we're just adrenaline junkies. We like the thrill of the danger."
Ricky shivered. He couldn't even imagine being an adrenaline junkie. But then, he was a total coward. He'd already established that...he sighed. "Don't beat up on yourself, Ricky," James said, unerringly reading his thoughts from his expression and making him jump a little. "Not everyone's cut out to be a thrill-seeker. And that's not a bad thing, because if all humans were like that the species would probably die out because there'd be nobody to have kids and raise them in a safe, secure environment. It wouldn't be good for kids to have parents who were always out looking for the next thrill and chasing danger and death all the time. It takes all kinds of humans to make up the world."
Ricky wondered silently how James did it. He always managed to make Ricky feel better about everything. That's why he wanted to preserve this budding friendship, in spite of certain feelings that were making him decidedly uneasy. Surely there was a way for him to remain friends with James and also avoid experiencing whatever that had been between them again...
A/N: Ooo, Ricky's starting to have special feelings! :P
Go to Next Chapter
Ricky couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Sitting on the couch in the living room of a gay man, drinking beer and watching a football game on the large, flat-screen TV against one wall. He'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that gay men COULD like sports; they were total pansies, after all. He glanced over at James, ensconced in his comfortable leather chair, and mused to himself silently that the cop was far from a pansy. Except for the fact that he liked other men sexually, there was nothing at all flamboyantly gay about James Belmont. You couldn't have told just looking at him that he was gay. Ricky wouldn't have guessed it in a million years if he hadn't been told.
He studied James' profile. The other man's face was a bit craggy, especially in the cheekbones. He had a firm chin, a mouth starting to be bracketed with smile lines, and a slightly arched nose. His eyes, when they stared steadily at you, were a blue-grey in color. Like a storm-tossed sea, Ricky thought fancifully, then pulled himself up sharply. Why was he thinking poetic shit about the color of another man's EYES?!
James turned his head, as though he'd felt the weight of Ricky's stare. Their eyes met, and for some reason Ricky felt rather breathless all of a sudden. What the fuck?! What was happening here?! Alarm bells were going off shrilly in his head, and he surged abruptly to his feet. "I've got to go!" he cried in a rather high, shrieky sort of voice that made him wince internally. He sounded like a little girl.
"Okay," James said quietly. He studied Ricky's flushed face. "Are you all right, Ricky?" he asked.
"Yeah," he said hurriedly, setting his almost empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Sure. I-I'll see you later, James. Thanks for the beer, and talking to me, and everything..." he began to back toward the door, preparing to flee.
The cop frowned slightly. He looked puzzled. Ricky couldn't blame him, but he wasn't going to try to explain his weird behavior. He had to get out of here! "Bye!" he cried, then dashed toward the door as though somebody had set his ass on fire. He felt like a total pussy as he hurried out the door, but he couldn't help it. His reaction to James had scared the living daylights out of him.
He practically ran over to his car, jumping inside and starting the engine. He saw James appear at the door, the cop staring at him. James lifted a hand in a silent farewell, and Ricky waved back. He didn't want James to think that he was mad at him or anything...because he wasn't. He just...had to get away from here! He pulled recklessly away from the curb, roaring away down the street into the night.
James watched his taillights receding. He shook his head. What had that been about? Ricky had been good all evening. They'd had a long talk about their jobs and various other subjects, and then they'd started to watch a football game. Then, all of a sudden, Ricky had jumped up like he'd been stung and had run out of the house. He had no idea what had caused Ricky to behave that way. Hopefully he'd find out soon, because he was kind of confused.
Ricky retreated to his bedroom as soon as he got home. he huddled up on top of his bed, hugging his knees. His eyes, in the mirror on top of his dresser, were too wide and showing a bit too much white. He laughed in cracked sort of way at his own expression. He looked like a man who'd just seen a ghost.
He wasn't stupid. He knew that something momentous had happened to him at James' house. He didn't even want to think about what that might have been, because he simply couldn't. He felt weak and sick with fear whenever he did. His mind raced in circles, rejecting with all of its might the implications of that incident. He wasn't even going to think about it. No, he definitely wasn't. Nothing had happened. Nothing at all. And that was the way it was going to stay. He lifted his chin a bit, and the mirror him did the same. "Nothing happened," he said aloud. "Nothing at all."
Ricky avoided James entirely for several days after that, too weirded out still to be able to face him. he went to work and then went straight home every day, but eventually the silence and emptiness in his house started to get to him. It made him restless. He'd never realized before this that he didn't really have any close friends; just some guys he hung out with at a bar occasionally, or did other guy things with. But those guys were from his old life, and he wasn't certain that he could sit around and listen to them trash 'faggots' and 'niggers' and 'bitches' anymore without protesting and getting his head beaten in for his troubles. And in his new life, he still hadn't quite made any friends at work yet. So the only friend that he had right now, in this interim period...was James. And he missed that friend acutely.
He wanted to see James again, to talk to him, to hang out with him. But always, at the back of his head, was that memory of...whatever that had been...between them when their eyes had met the other night. He was afraid that might happen again. And he was even more afraid that this time he might be forced to think about just what it might be, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that. So he dithered, and worried, and fretted, until finally he couldn't take the emptiness in his house anymore. He called James, worrying at his lip as his cell phone rang.
"Hello?" he heard James' voice say on the other end.
"James? Uh, it's me, Ricky," he said apologetically.
Silence. Then: "Ricky." James' voice was carefully neutral, and he winced.
"Listen, I'm sorry I ran out like that the other night. I just...I don't really know what happened. I guess I freaked out. I think maybe I realized I was alone with a gay guy, and I sort of...lost it," Ricky said, all of which was true but only partly the truth.
"I see," James said.
"I know it was stupid," he continued, "I know you wouldn't try to do anything to me. I guess it's just a knee-jerk reaction. I really am sorry," he said woefully.
"It's all right, Ricky. You don't change from a homophobe to someone who accepts gay people overnight with no effort," James replied seriously.
"Yeah," he said. "Umm...would it be okay if I came over to your house again? I swear that I won't run away this time!" he vowed.
"You could come over tomorrow afternoon. But I warn you, I'm having my backyard barbeque then. Are you okay with being around a crowd of people? Especially since some of them will be my gay friends?"
He swallowed. "I can handle it," he said in suppressed relief. He'd much rather be around a whole crowd of people rather than alone again with James, but he didn't want the cop to know that.
"All right. Come at eleven o'clock. You can help me get everything set up. I could use somebody to carry heavy stuff. My side still isn't quite healed yet."
"I'll be there," Ricky said. "Can I bring anything?"
"Sure. Coleslaw, potato salad, chips, whatever you want. Any contributions are welcome," he said in faint amusement.
"I'll see you then," Ricky said happily. Much as he was freaked out about his reaction to James, he still wanted to see the man again. It sucked to be this lonely, but there was nothing else that he could do about it just yet.
Ricky pulled up in front of James' house, and jumped out of his car. he hurried around to open the trunk and start to unload all of the things he'd brought for the barbeque. He had bags of chips, tubs of coleslaw and potato salad, and some cases of various flavors of pop. He'd also brought bags of ice and store-bought cookies. He carried a large selection of bags up to the porch and rang the doorbell.
James opened the door, casually dressed in a rather loose sweatshirt with the logo of a sports team on the front and a pair of jeans that must have been difficult for him to get on. "Hey, Ricky," he greeted his guest. "Did you buy out the whole store?" he said, staring at the heaps of bags that Ricky was laden with.
He laughed, remembering a similar question about the gifts he'd brought to the hospital not so long ago. "Not all of it," he replied merrily. "Just most of it."
"Come on in," James stepped back and held the door open for him, and Ricky staggered inside with his load. "Take it all into the kitchen," he added.
Ricky did so, setting the bags on the kitchen table. He began to unpack stuff, while James eyed this bounty in a certain amount of disbelief. "You really came prepared," he noted.
Ricky set a tub of baked beans down on the table. "I just wanted to contribute," he said.
"Well, you succeeded. I appreciate it. There'll be a lot of hungry cops coming today. Have to keep them well fed."
Ricky slowed in his unpacking to look up at James questioningly. "Your fellow cops...they know that you're gay? And they're okay with it?" he asked.
James shrugged. "Not all of them are, but I don't care about them. If they can't handle my sexuality, that's their problem, not mine. Most of them are good with it, though, as long as I don't shove it in their faces. But they don't shove their heterosexuality in my face, either, so it's a good compromise. We're there to do the job, first and foremost. And they all know I've got their backs. That's what's really important to a cop."
"I guess I can see that," Ricky said slowly, returning to taking things out of the bags. "It's such a dangerous job. I don't know how you do it."
"Sometimes I don't know WHY we do it," James replied wryly. "Except that we need to. Oh, well. Some people sky dive or bungee jump. I guess we're just adrenaline junkies. We like the thrill of the danger."
Ricky shivered. He couldn't even imagine being an adrenaline junkie. But then, he was a total coward. He'd already established that...he sighed. "Don't beat up on yourself, Ricky," James said, unerringly reading his thoughts from his expression and making him jump a little. "Not everyone's cut out to be a thrill-seeker. And that's not a bad thing, because if all humans were like that the species would probably die out because there'd be nobody to have kids and raise them in a safe, secure environment. It wouldn't be good for kids to have parents who were always out looking for the next thrill and chasing danger and death all the time. It takes all kinds of humans to make up the world."
Ricky wondered silently how James did it. He always managed to make Ricky feel better about everything. That's why he wanted to preserve this budding friendship, in spite of certain feelings that were making him decidedly uneasy. Surely there was a way for him to remain friends with James and also avoid experiencing whatever that had been between them again...
A/N: Ooo, Ricky's starting to have special feelings! :P
Go to Next Chapter