Part 5
Quentin slowly and delicately dipped a French fry into a pool of ketchup on his plate and lifted it to his mouth. He sucked the red stuff off of the french fried potato, using his pink tongue to lave the length of it before he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. His blue eyes gleamed as he looked across the table at Chet, who had paused in taking a bite of his hamburger to stare at this display of oral dexterity. He smiled lasciviously. “Mmm, salty,” he murmured in a low, throaty voice.
He could clearly see Chet swallow rather heavily, and had to bite back a giggle. He was enjoying himself so much. Nothing was more fun than tormenting that sexy beef steak sitting across from him. Well, there would be one thing that was more fun, of course… and he hoped to explore that avenue of entertainment as soon as he possibly could. Just as soon as he broke Chet…
Chet took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re such a…” he began.
Quentin laughed huskily. “A slut? A whore? A perverted fag? Guilty as charged, officer,” he said in amusement.
Chet frowned. “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked abruptly.
Quentin lifted a slightly-plucked brow. “What? Being called names? But you know that old saying, Chet: ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me’. They’re just words, you know. Unless you take them to heart and really believe them about yourself, they’re meaningless. As Patrick Swayze said in Roadhouse, ‘They’re two adjectives strung together to elicit a prescribed reaction’. He meant that someone was trying to get a rise out of you – and the best way to foil that is not to respond. Pisses them off big time, let me tell you.” He added with relish.
Now it was Chet’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “You watch Roadhouse?” he said incredulously.
Quentin chuckled. “Of course I do! I get to see Swayze walking around without a shirt on! And that scene where he’s standing there with his fine, fine ass hanging out for the whole world to see…what’s not to like? Besides, I think that Sam Elliot’s pretty fine, too. I don’t usually like guys with moustaches, but I’ll make an exception for that sexy cowboy anytime. I’d like to have HIS beef for dinner, let me tell you.”
Chet looked disgusted. “I should have known,” he remarked.
“Yes, you should have,” Quentin agreed, smiling dazzlingly at him. “I’m a gay guy, Chet. Just like straight guys watch movies just to ogle the legs or breasts of a pretty girl, we watch movies just to ogle the asses and chests of good-looking, hot guys. It’s human nature, after all. Besides, you should thank me. I’m giving you lessons on our people so that you’ll be more relaxed around us when you finally accept the fact that you’re one of us.”
A snort. “Lessons on how to act like a prancing fruit, wonderful. If you’re an example of what being gay is like, why the hell would I ever want to join your group?”
Quentin fluffed his hair. “I’m not a typical example, I’ll be the first to admit it,” he replied calmly. “I’m fabulous, which is something not even all gay guys are. But that’s good. I celebrate our diversity. We are the most diverse minority in the world – we take in and encompass all races, religions, creeds, sexes, what have you. There is no group in the world that doesn’t contain at least a few of us. We are eternal and unkillable.”
“What? Like cockroaches?” Chet said dryly.
Quentin giggled. “Why not? With an emphasis on ‘cock’,” he said merrily. “After all, cockroaches will even survive a nuclear holocaust.”
Chet rolled his eyes. “You have an answer for everything, I see,” he muttered.
“Of course I do. I love a good argument,” Quentin said. He gave Chet a sloe-eyed look across the table. “Would you ‘argue’ with me, big man?” he asked in a sultry tone of voice.
“I don’t think so,” Chet said stonily.
He shrugged. “Oh, well, then. Your loss. Let’s talk about your rehabilitation instead.”
“My what?” Chet’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
“Your rehabilitation,” Quentin repeated patiently. “From bully to a real human being.”
Chet looked annoyed. “Who the hell said that I wanted to be ‘rehabilitated’?” he demanded.
“You did,” Quentin replied promptly. “When you said that you didn’t want to be like your father anymore,” he added softly.
Chet’s hands balled into fists on the tabletop. “You’re pushing it,” he growled menacingly.
Quentin smiled whimsically. “It's what I do,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, those were your words, not mine. You were the one that said ‘no’ when I asked you if you wanted to be like him. But I guess we could pretend that you never said that, if you want to be dishonorable and a liar. It’s your choice.”
Chet’s big body had stiffened at his words, and rage filled the caramel-colored eyes. “I am neither a liar or dishonorable,” he spat.
Quentin pointed a finger at him. “You see what I mean about responding? Now you’re angry, so I won,” he said, not smugly but implacably. “The first thing we have to work on is that temper of yours. You can’t get angry about every little thing, because that makes you want to lash out all the time. You need to be calm and centered. I think that I’ll teach you how to meditate.”
Chet just stared at him, now more baffled than angry. “You seriously want to…what? Reform me?” he asked incredulously.
Quentin nodded. “Yes. I do. You see, big man, I believe that there’s a great guy hidden somewhere inside of that angry person sitting across from me – we just have to get him to come out. No pun intended,” he went on with a cheeky grin. “Because that’s an entirely different thing altogether. Which we’ll work on separately,” he remarked with a naughty gleam in his blue eyes. “But until then, I just want to help you find your potential and be the person you could be if you just let yourself be. You should be pleased – I wouldn’t bother at all if I didn’t think that you could change.”
“Oh, yes, I’m SO pleased,” Chet drawled. “You’re like some deranged life coach,” he muttered. “One on crack.”
Quentin laughed heartily at his words. “I like that,” he said when he could speak again. “A life coach on crack. That’s just what I’ll be to you, Chet. Because…” he stopped and sobered, looking Chet in the eye with a serious expression on his face: “Your mother is wrong, Chet. Really wrong. You’re not like your father at all. But as long as you think that you are, you’ll continue to act just like him even if you’re not really that way. And eventually you really will become him, because you can’t go on forever being a cruel, mean, abusive person without becoming the thing that you fear that you are. Is that what you really want for yourself, big man? Is it?” his eyes searched Chet’s face, and after a moment the football player looked away again.
“No,” he said grimly. “When he’d…hit me…I always swore that I’d never be like him. I don’t know how I ended up like this…”
“He wore you down, and so did your horrible mother,” Quentin told him. “But you don’t have to keep being this way if you don’t want to. You’re stronger than that. I’m sure of it.”
Chet’s eyes came back to his. “Why are you sure of it?” he demanded. “I don’t get you.”
Quentin rested his chin on his hand. “I know people, Chet,” he replied simply. “I can usually read them pretty well. If you were just the typical bully, someone with few redeeming qualities, I’d know that too. And if that had been the case, I would have destroyed you already. Bullies are the real cockroaches. They need to be squashed whenever possible so that they can’t spread disease and filth.” His face wore an expression that Chet had never seen on it before – something startlingly dangerous and a little bit cold. “I don’t believe in living and let live when the other person can’t follow that philosophy. And some people just need to be taken care of.”
Chet’s mouth was open a little as he gaped at Quentin across the table. He didn’t recognize this person at all. But then that face changed back to its usual slightly amused expression, and that alien person disappeared. But he wouldn’t forget that he’d seen him, Chet thought with a slight chill. Quentin smiled quirkily. “Now you see, you got me to show you a part of myself that I rarely if ever show anyone, big man,” he remarked ruefully. “You have an interesting effect on me, too. One I’m curious to experience more of. I like new things.”
Chet roused himself out of his stupor. “Uh huh,” he began warily. “So if I refused to have anything to do with your ‘rehabilitation’, and I go on picking on people at school…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t like that,” Quentin said casually. “I’m afraid that I couldn’t let you hurt anyone else, Chet.” His voice was whimsical, but a thin frost of ice slid briefly over his blue eyes.
The football player swallowed rather heavily again, for a slightly different reason than earlier. “So you’d destroy me?” he asked, his voice a bit husky.
“If I have to, yes. I just hope it doesn’t come to that, because I really don’t want to,” Quentin told him. “It would be such a waste. I think that I hate wasted potential more than just about anything else. So why not live up to that potential instead? It would be better all around for everybody,” he said coaxingly.
“Well, my choices seem to be – shape up and stop being a bully, or have you stomp me like a cockroach,” Chet elucidated. “Is that about right?”
“Simply put, but totally right,” Quentin agreed. “As I said, I don’t want to stomp you. I really like you, big man. But I will if I have to, to protect your victims. Think about how much pain that you’ve caused other people by your actions. You hated it when your father did that to you, but now you do it to others. Is that fair? Is it right? Is that really the kind of person you want to be?”
Chet grimaced. “No, it isn’t,” he said shortly. “So I’ll do my best to change, not because I’m afraid of you but because you’re right. I never wanted to be like my old man. I’ll do whatever it takes not to be now,” he added, his chin firming and his eyes full of that strength of will that Quentin had been sure was there all along.
He smiled, reaching across the table to pat Chet’s hand. The football player jumped and glared at him, which made him grin. “That’s great. And I’ll be there to help you every step of the way, Chet,” he said, resolution in his voice.
Chet shook his head. “I’m so lucky,” he drawled sardonically.
Quentin chuckled. “Yes, yes you are,” he agreed, which made Chet look at the ceiling as though calling upon a higher power to save him from his lunch companion.
“Slow your breathing. Listen to your heartbeat,” Quentin crooned softly in a hypnotic voice. “Can you hear it? Let your body become in tune with it. You’re at peace, you’re floating…nothing is important anymore except your heartbeat…”
He cracked in eyelid and slewed his eye sideways. The big body occupying most of the bed next to him was still. Chet’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. He sat in the lotus position, as Quentin had taught him. It looked a little odd to see someone so big doing the meditation pose with his hands resting on his folded up knees, but he was just glad that Chet had managed to get himself into it at all. He was so muscled that he wasn’t very flexible. Quentin had decided to teach him a little bit of tai chi later on, to help him become more flexible. He knew that Chet wouldn’t argue with him when he explained that being more flexible would help his play during football games. For now, though, he was just trying to teach Chet how to meditate properly as part of his own personal ‘anger management’ course.
They were in Chet’s bedroom, since he didn’t want to come to Quentin’s house. He supposed he could understand that; if word got around at school that Chet was hanging with the gay kid, he’d be the laughingstock among his thuggish friends and a joke to those he had picked upon as well. Quentin hoped to eventually get him past his worries about what other people thought of him, but for now compromised by coming to Chet’s house after school(and football practice)every day to help him with his ‘rehabilitation’.
“Do you feel relaxed?” he crooned, still in that same tone of voice. “Nod if you do.”
Chet’s head lowered a little. Pleased, Quentin continued: “All right. Now what you’re going to do is slowly but surely make all of your muscles untense. Start in your head. Deliberately make your muscles knot and tense up, then let them relax all of the way. Focus on your breathing as you do this. Feel your muscles slowly relaxing. That’s great. Now the muscles in your neck,” he went on, watching as Chet slowly stiffened his neck muscles then let them relax. He continued to breathe slowly through his mouth, his chest rising and falling as Quentin coached him through unknotting every muscle in his big body.
Finally he curled his toes and then let them relax. “You’re done,” Quentin told him. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” Chet husked.
“Okay. You don’t have a care in the world now. You’re letting all of your anger flow away out of you. Picture it as this dark river. It’s flowing out of all parts of you, and it leaves peace behind. Can you feel that peace?”
“Yess,” Chet replied, sounding almost drugged.
“Now – whenever you feel anger starting to overwhelm you, remember that dark river. Take a few moments to stop and breathe, and let the river flow out of you. It will help you control your anger so you won’t lash out at people,” Quentin told him in satisfaction. “You can open your eyes now.”
Chet’s eyes slowly flickered open. They looked far mellower than he’d ever seen them, the flame of anger that had seemed to perpetually burn in their heart seemingly having flickered out for now. “You can do this meditation technique on your own, now,” Quentin told him. “I’d recommend you do it every day to unwind after you get home.”
Chet just looked at him. He lifted his brows. “What?”
“I still don’t get why you’re doing this for me,” Chet said slowly.
He sighed. “I already told you, big man. I like you. I want to help you. I think that you could be a really great guy if you try. Sometimes all anybody needs is a push – well, I’m giving you that push, that’s all.”
“What do you get out of it?” Chet asked suspiciously.
Quentin rolled his eyes elaborately. “Another warrior in my secret army to take over the world,” he drawled. “Honestly, Chet, I’ve already told you that too.”
“But what if I won’t ever sleep with you? Are you just going to stop helping me?” Chet demanded, his mouth tightening.
“No. Because above and beyond the fact that I’d love you to fuck me, I just want to help a soul in pain. Although it’s a selfish need too…because I get to feel proud of myself once I’ve reformed you. I can pat myself on the back mentally. That’s most of what charity and giving are about – so that we can feel better about ourselves for doing good,” Quentin explained with a grin.
Chet eyed him. “That’s a cynical thing to think,” he said.
Quentin shrugged. “No, it’s just the truth. Psychologists have done studies on it. Although I don’t really see what’s wrong with it – both parties get something out of the deal. That’s healthy selfishness, in my opinion. Because it doesn’t hurt anybody,” he said. “And that’s the important thing. I think people should be allowed to do whatever they want as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody, including themselves. Of course, if they do end up hurting themselves that’s their choice, as long as they don’t hurt anybody around them while they’re at it. Free will and all that.”
Chet was looking at him with a bemused expression on his handsome face. “You’re really odd,” he commented.
“That’s me. I like odd. It means that I don’t think and act like everybody else. I’m not a drone. I don’t conform. I get to be wild and free,” Quentin threw his hands in the air, smiling. “I only wish,” he added, eyeing Chet hungrily, “That you’d be wild and free along with me, big man.”
“Like this?” Chet said softly, and before Quentin could react (because he was too startled to do so), the big body leaned over and that oh-so-nice mouth closed over his again. He gasped, totally taken aback, and that tongue slicked into him swiftly. He moaned as it laved over his, as a big hand came up to cradle his chin as Chet continued to kiss him.
He was panting and rather wide-eyed as Chet drew back. “W-What?” he said, trying to draw adequate breath.
The football player grinned suddenly, the first such expression that Quentin had ever seen on his face. It transformed him into something stunning, and took his breath away again. “You’re always confounding me, I thought I’d return the favor,” Chet remarked in satisfaction.
Quentin was feeling bemused as he left Chet’s house that day. He was used to being the one who caught people off guard and did things that they didn’t expect. But Chet had neatly turned the tables on him, and then afterward had shooed him out of his bedroom with the excuse that he had some homework to do. Quentin ran a hand through his hair as he walked toward his car. It was by necessity a rather stilted gait, because he was feeling a resurgence of his ‘problem’ again today. Damn that Chet Rollins! Bastard was deadly when he wanted to be. And God was he a good kisser! Thoughts of how skilled Chet might be in other areas as well made him shudder as he got into his car very carefully.
“Where have you been going after school, Quen?” Gary asked him the next day. “I don’t mean the newspaper writing; after that. Whenever I call you to see if I and Patrick can come over and hang out, you always give me some excuse. Are you trying to avoid me?” he asked unhappily.
Quentin was quick to reassure him. “Of course not, Gary! I’ve just been really busy with a project. I’m sorry that I haven’t had any time for you guys. But I promise that I’ll try to make time from now on. I don’t want to neglect my friends,” he patted Gary’s arm as the other boy looked relieved.
“Okay. Umm…what project?” Gary asked next.
Quentin debated how much to tell him. Gary wasn’t a gossip, but what he was doing with Chet was potential fodder for the school grapevine. If his friend let even a hint of this loose…but he decided to trust Gary. They were friends, after all. “Let’s go over there,” he said, pulling his friend by the arm to a quiet, private place in the hallway so that no one would be able to overhear them. ‘I’m going to tell you something in the strictest confidence,” he began gravely. “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anybody, even Corey or Patrick, if I tell you. Can you do that?”
Gary stared at him. “All right,” he said at last. “What is it?”
Quentin hesitated, and then began: “To tell you the truth, I was over at Chet Rollins’ house yesterday. I’ve been going there all week,” he added as Gary gaped at him.
“What?! Why?!” he yelped.
Quentin made shushing motions at him. “I’m trying to help him,” he explained.
“Help him do what?” a bewildered Gary asked.
“Help him to change. To not be a bully anymore,” Quentin replied.
Gary blinked. “Is that possible?” he asked, sounding skeptical.
Quentin shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s actually been trying to change, which I have to give him kudos for. I’ve been teaching him to meditate and things like that, to help with his anger issues.”
Gary stared at him. “You’re doing this because you want to get with him, right?” he said softly after a moment.
It was Quentin’s turn to blink at Gary’s perceptiveness. “I’ll be the first to admit that,” he replied with a shrug. “But I also want him to change for his own benefit. I think that he could be a really cool guy with some changes.”
“Well, if you think so then it must be true,” Gary surprised him by saying. “Good luck with him, Quen.”
He smiled and patted Gary’s arm. “Thank you, Gary. You’re so sweet. Patrick is one lucky guy.”
Gary turned a little pink at that. Quentin’s smile widened. “How’s that going, by the way?” he asked rather slyly. “Have you guys made it past first base?”
To his delight, Gary turned bright crimson at his question. “W-well…” he began, stuttering a bit, “Sort of…”
Quentin’s eyes were sparkling. “Sort of? How much ‘sort of’?” he asked with interest.
“He…ummm…uh…touched me,” Gary said softly, looking everywhere but at him.
“Touched you? Where? On the arm? The face? The hand?” Quentin asked teasingly.
Gary was choking a little as he blurted out: “Umm…down there!”
Quentin began to laugh. He couldn’t help himself, he was so delighted. He hugged Gary. “I’m sorry to tease you,” he said into his friend’s ear. “But that’s really great. Did you like it?”
Gary nodded speechlessly, his face crimson. Quentin kissed his cheek. “Sweetheart, that’s awesome news. It won’t be too long before you two are doing a lot more than some groping,” he said, patting Gary’s shoulder. “When you do, if either of you need any pointers, just ask me. I’ll be happy to help.”
Gary looked appalled at the thought of asking Quentin for tips on how to get busy with his boyfriend. He had to press his lips together tightly so as not to end up giggling madly at his friend’s expression. “Anyway,” he went on in a voice that only wavered slightly, “I have to get to class. I’ll talk to you later, Gary.”
Gary nodded again, waving as he stepped out into the early afternoon traffic and began to make his way toward his next class, Biology. But before he could make it, a hand shot out of a doorway and dragged a surprised Quentin into an empty classroom. He could have broken the hold, but he was too curious to see who it was and what they wanted. He saw that it was Chet, and that the football player wore his usual expression of seething anger. “Chet? What’s the matter?” he asked curiously, cocking his head.
Chet’s lips pulled back from his teeth a bit. “Could you keep your perverted bullshit for after school?” he spat. Glaring at Quentin.
He lifted his brows. “Perverted bullshit?” he repeated in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
Chet snorted. “I saw you pawing your boyfriend out there,” he said, waving a hand toward the hallway.
Comprehension dawned in Quentin’s brain. “You saw me hugging my friend Gary!” he exclaimed. Gleefully he pointed a finger at Chet: “You’re jealous, big man! Admit it! You want me so much that you’re jealous of me hugging my friend – who has a boyfriend, by the way – even though it was totally innocent and out in public! This is awesome!”
Chet looked disconcerted, and his denial sounded a little weak. “I’m not jealous,” he said.
Quentin grinned at him, his eyes dancing. “Oh, yes you are,” he crooned. “Don’t worry, big man, I like a little jealousy. It shows me that you care. That’s so sweet.”
Chet looked like he was vacillating between vomiting and exploding, which made Quentin want to howl with laughter. But he was still delighted by this obvious show of jealousy on Chet’s part – meant he was getting to the big lug. There was hope for him getting laid yet.
Go to Part 6
Quentin slowly and delicately dipped a French fry into a pool of ketchup on his plate and lifted it to his mouth. He sucked the red stuff off of the french fried potato, using his pink tongue to lave the length of it before he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. His blue eyes gleamed as he looked across the table at Chet, who had paused in taking a bite of his hamburger to stare at this display of oral dexterity. He smiled lasciviously. “Mmm, salty,” he murmured in a low, throaty voice.
He could clearly see Chet swallow rather heavily, and had to bite back a giggle. He was enjoying himself so much. Nothing was more fun than tormenting that sexy beef steak sitting across from him. Well, there would be one thing that was more fun, of course… and he hoped to explore that avenue of entertainment as soon as he possibly could. Just as soon as he broke Chet…
Chet took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re such a…” he began.
Quentin laughed huskily. “A slut? A whore? A perverted fag? Guilty as charged, officer,” he said in amusement.
Chet frowned. “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked abruptly.
Quentin lifted a slightly-plucked brow. “What? Being called names? But you know that old saying, Chet: ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me’. They’re just words, you know. Unless you take them to heart and really believe them about yourself, they’re meaningless. As Patrick Swayze said in Roadhouse, ‘They’re two adjectives strung together to elicit a prescribed reaction’. He meant that someone was trying to get a rise out of you – and the best way to foil that is not to respond. Pisses them off big time, let me tell you.” He added with relish.
Now it was Chet’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “You watch Roadhouse?” he said incredulously.
Quentin chuckled. “Of course I do! I get to see Swayze walking around without a shirt on! And that scene where he’s standing there with his fine, fine ass hanging out for the whole world to see…what’s not to like? Besides, I think that Sam Elliot’s pretty fine, too. I don’t usually like guys with moustaches, but I’ll make an exception for that sexy cowboy anytime. I’d like to have HIS beef for dinner, let me tell you.”
Chet looked disgusted. “I should have known,” he remarked.
“Yes, you should have,” Quentin agreed, smiling dazzlingly at him. “I’m a gay guy, Chet. Just like straight guys watch movies just to ogle the legs or breasts of a pretty girl, we watch movies just to ogle the asses and chests of good-looking, hot guys. It’s human nature, after all. Besides, you should thank me. I’m giving you lessons on our people so that you’ll be more relaxed around us when you finally accept the fact that you’re one of us.”
A snort. “Lessons on how to act like a prancing fruit, wonderful. If you’re an example of what being gay is like, why the hell would I ever want to join your group?”
Quentin fluffed his hair. “I’m not a typical example, I’ll be the first to admit it,” he replied calmly. “I’m fabulous, which is something not even all gay guys are. But that’s good. I celebrate our diversity. We are the most diverse minority in the world – we take in and encompass all races, religions, creeds, sexes, what have you. There is no group in the world that doesn’t contain at least a few of us. We are eternal and unkillable.”
“What? Like cockroaches?” Chet said dryly.
Quentin giggled. “Why not? With an emphasis on ‘cock’,” he said merrily. “After all, cockroaches will even survive a nuclear holocaust.”
Chet rolled his eyes. “You have an answer for everything, I see,” he muttered.
“Of course I do. I love a good argument,” Quentin said. He gave Chet a sloe-eyed look across the table. “Would you ‘argue’ with me, big man?” he asked in a sultry tone of voice.
“I don’t think so,” Chet said stonily.
He shrugged. “Oh, well, then. Your loss. Let’s talk about your rehabilitation instead.”
“My what?” Chet’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
“Your rehabilitation,” Quentin repeated patiently. “From bully to a real human being.”
Chet looked annoyed. “Who the hell said that I wanted to be ‘rehabilitated’?” he demanded.
“You did,” Quentin replied promptly. “When you said that you didn’t want to be like your father anymore,” he added softly.
Chet’s hands balled into fists on the tabletop. “You’re pushing it,” he growled menacingly.
Quentin smiled whimsically. “It's what I do,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, those were your words, not mine. You were the one that said ‘no’ when I asked you if you wanted to be like him. But I guess we could pretend that you never said that, if you want to be dishonorable and a liar. It’s your choice.”
Chet’s big body had stiffened at his words, and rage filled the caramel-colored eyes. “I am neither a liar or dishonorable,” he spat.
Quentin pointed a finger at him. “You see what I mean about responding? Now you’re angry, so I won,” he said, not smugly but implacably. “The first thing we have to work on is that temper of yours. You can’t get angry about every little thing, because that makes you want to lash out all the time. You need to be calm and centered. I think that I’ll teach you how to meditate.”
Chet just stared at him, now more baffled than angry. “You seriously want to…what? Reform me?” he asked incredulously.
Quentin nodded. “Yes. I do. You see, big man, I believe that there’s a great guy hidden somewhere inside of that angry person sitting across from me – we just have to get him to come out. No pun intended,” he went on with a cheeky grin. “Because that’s an entirely different thing altogether. Which we’ll work on separately,” he remarked with a naughty gleam in his blue eyes. “But until then, I just want to help you find your potential and be the person you could be if you just let yourself be. You should be pleased – I wouldn’t bother at all if I didn’t think that you could change.”
“Oh, yes, I’m SO pleased,” Chet drawled. “You’re like some deranged life coach,” he muttered. “One on crack.”
Quentin laughed heartily at his words. “I like that,” he said when he could speak again. “A life coach on crack. That’s just what I’ll be to you, Chet. Because…” he stopped and sobered, looking Chet in the eye with a serious expression on his face: “Your mother is wrong, Chet. Really wrong. You’re not like your father at all. But as long as you think that you are, you’ll continue to act just like him even if you’re not really that way. And eventually you really will become him, because you can’t go on forever being a cruel, mean, abusive person without becoming the thing that you fear that you are. Is that what you really want for yourself, big man? Is it?” his eyes searched Chet’s face, and after a moment the football player looked away again.
“No,” he said grimly. “When he’d…hit me…I always swore that I’d never be like him. I don’t know how I ended up like this…”
“He wore you down, and so did your horrible mother,” Quentin told him. “But you don’t have to keep being this way if you don’t want to. You’re stronger than that. I’m sure of it.”
Chet’s eyes came back to his. “Why are you sure of it?” he demanded. “I don’t get you.”
Quentin rested his chin on his hand. “I know people, Chet,” he replied simply. “I can usually read them pretty well. If you were just the typical bully, someone with few redeeming qualities, I’d know that too. And if that had been the case, I would have destroyed you already. Bullies are the real cockroaches. They need to be squashed whenever possible so that they can’t spread disease and filth.” His face wore an expression that Chet had never seen on it before – something startlingly dangerous and a little bit cold. “I don’t believe in living and let live when the other person can’t follow that philosophy. And some people just need to be taken care of.”
Chet’s mouth was open a little as he gaped at Quentin across the table. He didn’t recognize this person at all. But then that face changed back to its usual slightly amused expression, and that alien person disappeared. But he wouldn’t forget that he’d seen him, Chet thought with a slight chill. Quentin smiled quirkily. “Now you see, you got me to show you a part of myself that I rarely if ever show anyone, big man,” he remarked ruefully. “You have an interesting effect on me, too. One I’m curious to experience more of. I like new things.”
Chet roused himself out of his stupor. “Uh huh,” he began warily. “So if I refused to have anything to do with your ‘rehabilitation’, and I go on picking on people at school…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t like that,” Quentin said casually. “I’m afraid that I couldn’t let you hurt anyone else, Chet.” His voice was whimsical, but a thin frost of ice slid briefly over his blue eyes.
The football player swallowed rather heavily again, for a slightly different reason than earlier. “So you’d destroy me?” he asked, his voice a bit husky.
“If I have to, yes. I just hope it doesn’t come to that, because I really don’t want to,” Quentin told him. “It would be such a waste. I think that I hate wasted potential more than just about anything else. So why not live up to that potential instead? It would be better all around for everybody,” he said coaxingly.
“Well, my choices seem to be – shape up and stop being a bully, or have you stomp me like a cockroach,” Chet elucidated. “Is that about right?”
“Simply put, but totally right,” Quentin agreed. “As I said, I don’t want to stomp you. I really like you, big man. But I will if I have to, to protect your victims. Think about how much pain that you’ve caused other people by your actions. You hated it when your father did that to you, but now you do it to others. Is that fair? Is it right? Is that really the kind of person you want to be?”
Chet grimaced. “No, it isn’t,” he said shortly. “So I’ll do my best to change, not because I’m afraid of you but because you’re right. I never wanted to be like my old man. I’ll do whatever it takes not to be now,” he added, his chin firming and his eyes full of that strength of will that Quentin had been sure was there all along.
He smiled, reaching across the table to pat Chet’s hand. The football player jumped and glared at him, which made him grin. “That’s great. And I’ll be there to help you every step of the way, Chet,” he said, resolution in his voice.
Chet shook his head. “I’m so lucky,” he drawled sardonically.
Quentin chuckled. “Yes, yes you are,” he agreed, which made Chet look at the ceiling as though calling upon a higher power to save him from his lunch companion.
“Slow your breathing. Listen to your heartbeat,” Quentin crooned softly in a hypnotic voice. “Can you hear it? Let your body become in tune with it. You’re at peace, you’re floating…nothing is important anymore except your heartbeat…”
He cracked in eyelid and slewed his eye sideways. The big body occupying most of the bed next to him was still. Chet’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. He sat in the lotus position, as Quentin had taught him. It looked a little odd to see someone so big doing the meditation pose with his hands resting on his folded up knees, but he was just glad that Chet had managed to get himself into it at all. He was so muscled that he wasn’t very flexible. Quentin had decided to teach him a little bit of tai chi later on, to help him become more flexible. He knew that Chet wouldn’t argue with him when he explained that being more flexible would help his play during football games. For now, though, he was just trying to teach Chet how to meditate properly as part of his own personal ‘anger management’ course.
They were in Chet’s bedroom, since he didn’t want to come to Quentin’s house. He supposed he could understand that; if word got around at school that Chet was hanging with the gay kid, he’d be the laughingstock among his thuggish friends and a joke to those he had picked upon as well. Quentin hoped to eventually get him past his worries about what other people thought of him, but for now compromised by coming to Chet’s house after school(and football practice)every day to help him with his ‘rehabilitation’.
“Do you feel relaxed?” he crooned, still in that same tone of voice. “Nod if you do.”
Chet’s head lowered a little. Pleased, Quentin continued: “All right. Now what you’re going to do is slowly but surely make all of your muscles untense. Start in your head. Deliberately make your muscles knot and tense up, then let them relax all of the way. Focus on your breathing as you do this. Feel your muscles slowly relaxing. That’s great. Now the muscles in your neck,” he went on, watching as Chet slowly stiffened his neck muscles then let them relax. He continued to breathe slowly through his mouth, his chest rising and falling as Quentin coached him through unknotting every muscle in his big body.
Finally he curled his toes and then let them relax. “You’re done,” Quentin told him. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” Chet husked.
“Okay. You don’t have a care in the world now. You’re letting all of your anger flow away out of you. Picture it as this dark river. It’s flowing out of all parts of you, and it leaves peace behind. Can you feel that peace?”
“Yess,” Chet replied, sounding almost drugged.
“Now – whenever you feel anger starting to overwhelm you, remember that dark river. Take a few moments to stop and breathe, and let the river flow out of you. It will help you control your anger so you won’t lash out at people,” Quentin told him in satisfaction. “You can open your eyes now.”
Chet’s eyes slowly flickered open. They looked far mellower than he’d ever seen them, the flame of anger that had seemed to perpetually burn in their heart seemingly having flickered out for now. “You can do this meditation technique on your own, now,” Quentin told him. “I’d recommend you do it every day to unwind after you get home.”
Chet just looked at him. He lifted his brows. “What?”
“I still don’t get why you’re doing this for me,” Chet said slowly.
He sighed. “I already told you, big man. I like you. I want to help you. I think that you could be a really great guy if you try. Sometimes all anybody needs is a push – well, I’m giving you that push, that’s all.”
“What do you get out of it?” Chet asked suspiciously.
Quentin rolled his eyes elaborately. “Another warrior in my secret army to take over the world,” he drawled. “Honestly, Chet, I’ve already told you that too.”
“But what if I won’t ever sleep with you? Are you just going to stop helping me?” Chet demanded, his mouth tightening.
“No. Because above and beyond the fact that I’d love you to fuck me, I just want to help a soul in pain. Although it’s a selfish need too…because I get to feel proud of myself once I’ve reformed you. I can pat myself on the back mentally. That’s most of what charity and giving are about – so that we can feel better about ourselves for doing good,” Quentin explained with a grin.
Chet eyed him. “That’s a cynical thing to think,” he said.
Quentin shrugged. “No, it’s just the truth. Psychologists have done studies on it. Although I don’t really see what’s wrong with it – both parties get something out of the deal. That’s healthy selfishness, in my opinion. Because it doesn’t hurt anybody,” he said. “And that’s the important thing. I think people should be allowed to do whatever they want as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody, including themselves. Of course, if they do end up hurting themselves that’s their choice, as long as they don’t hurt anybody around them while they’re at it. Free will and all that.”
Chet was looking at him with a bemused expression on his handsome face. “You’re really odd,” he commented.
“That’s me. I like odd. It means that I don’t think and act like everybody else. I’m not a drone. I don’t conform. I get to be wild and free,” Quentin threw his hands in the air, smiling. “I only wish,” he added, eyeing Chet hungrily, “That you’d be wild and free along with me, big man.”
“Like this?” Chet said softly, and before Quentin could react (because he was too startled to do so), the big body leaned over and that oh-so-nice mouth closed over his again. He gasped, totally taken aback, and that tongue slicked into him swiftly. He moaned as it laved over his, as a big hand came up to cradle his chin as Chet continued to kiss him.
He was panting and rather wide-eyed as Chet drew back. “W-What?” he said, trying to draw adequate breath.
The football player grinned suddenly, the first such expression that Quentin had ever seen on his face. It transformed him into something stunning, and took his breath away again. “You’re always confounding me, I thought I’d return the favor,” Chet remarked in satisfaction.
Quentin was feeling bemused as he left Chet’s house that day. He was used to being the one who caught people off guard and did things that they didn’t expect. But Chet had neatly turned the tables on him, and then afterward had shooed him out of his bedroom with the excuse that he had some homework to do. Quentin ran a hand through his hair as he walked toward his car. It was by necessity a rather stilted gait, because he was feeling a resurgence of his ‘problem’ again today. Damn that Chet Rollins! Bastard was deadly when he wanted to be. And God was he a good kisser! Thoughts of how skilled Chet might be in other areas as well made him shudder as he got into his car very carefully.
“Where have you been going after school, Quen?” Gary asked him the next day. “I don’t mean the newspaper writing; after that. Whenever I call you to see if I and Patrick can come over and hang out, you always give me some excuse. Are you trying to avoid me?” he asked unhappily.
Quentin was quick to reassure him. “Of course not, Gary! I’ve just been really busy with a project. I’m sorry that I haven’t had any time for you guys. But I promise that I’ll try to make time from now on. I don’t want to neglect my friends,” he patted Gary’s arm as the other boy looked relieved.
“Okay. Umm…what project?” Gary asked next.
Quentin debated how much to tell him. Gary wasn’t a gossip, but what he was doing with Chet was potential fodder for the school grapevine. If his friend let even a hint of this loose…but he decided to trust Gary. They were friends, after all. “Let’s go over there,” he said, pulling his friend by the arm to a quiet, private place in the hallway so that no one would be able to overhear them. ‘I’m going to tell you something in the strictest confidence,” he began gravely. “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anybody, even Corey or Patrick, if I tell you. Can you do that?”
Gary stared at him. “All right,” he said at last. “What is it?”
Quentin hesitated, and then began: “To tell you the truth, I was over at Chet Rollins’ house yesterday. I’ve been going there all week,” he added as Gary gaped at him.
“What?! Why?!” he yelped.
Quentin made shushing motions at him. “I’m trying to help him,” he explained.
“Help him do what?” a bewildered Gary asked.
“Help him to change. To not be a bully anymore,” Quentin replied.
Gary blinked. “Is that possible?” he asked, sounding skeptical.
Quentin shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s actually been trying to change, which I have to give him kudos for. I’ve been teaching him to meditate and things like that, to help with his anger issues.”
Gary stared at him. “You’re doing this because you want to get with him, right?” he said softly after a moment.
It was Quentin’s turn to blink at Gary’s perceptiveness. “I’ll be the first to admit that,” he replied with a shrug. “But I also want him to change for his own benefit. I think that he could be a really cool guy with some changes.”
“Well, if you think so then it must be true,” Gary surprised him by saying. “Good luck with him, Quen.”
He smiled and patted Gary’s arm. “Thank you, Gary. You’re so sweet. Patrick is one lucky guy.”
Gary turned a little pink at that. Quentin’s smile widened. “How’s that going, by the way?” he asked rather slyly. “Have you guys made it past first base?”
To his delight, Gary turned bright crimson at his question. “W-well…” he began, stuttering a bit, “Sort of…”
Quentin’s eyes were sparkling. “Sort of? How much ‘sort of’?” he asked with interest.
“He…ummm…uh…touched me,” Gary said softly, looking everywhere but at him.
“Touched you? Where? On the arm? The face? The hand?” Quentin asked teasingly.
Gary was choking a little as he blurted out: “Umm…down there!”
Quentin began to laugh. He couldn’t help himself, he was so delighted. He hugged Gary. “I’m sorry to tease you,” he said into his friend’s ear. “But that’s really great. Did you like it?”
Gary nodded speechlessly, his face crimson. Quentin kissed his cheek. “Sweetheart, that’s awesome news. It won’t be too long before you two are doing a lot more than some groping,” he said, patting Gary’s shoulder. “When you do, if either of you need any pointers, just ask me. I’ll be happy to help.”
Gary looked appalled at the thought of asking Quentin for tips on how to get busy with his boyfriend. He had to press his lips together tightly so as not to end up giggling madly at his friend’s expression. “Anyway,” he went on in a voice that only wavered slightly, “I have to get to class. I’ll talk to you later, Gary.”
Gary nodded again, waving as he stepped out into the early afternoon traffic and began to make his way toward his next class, Biology. But before he could make it, a hand shot out of a doorway and dragged a surprised Quentin into an empty classroom. He could have broken the hold, but he was too curious to see who it was and what they wanted. He saw that it was Chet, and that the football player wore his usual expression of seething anger. “Chet? What’s the matter?” he asked curiously, cocking his head.
Chet’s lips pulled back from his teeth a bit. “Could you keep your perverted bullshit for after school?” he spat. Glaring at Quentin.
He lifted his brows. “Perverted bullshit?” he repeated in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
Chet snorted. “I saw you pawing your boyfriend out there,” he said, waving a hand toward the hallway.
Comprehension dawned in Quentin’s brain. “You saw me hugging my friend Gary!” he exclaimed. Gleefully he pointed a finger at Chet: “You’re jealous, big man! Admit it! You want me so much that you’re jealous of me hugging my friend – who has a boyfriend, by the way – even though it was totally innocent and out in public! This is awesome!”
Chet looked disconcerted, and his denial sounded a little weak. “I’m not jealous,” he said.
Quentin grinned at him, his eyes dancing. “Oh, yes you are,” he crooned. “Don’t worry, big man, I like a little jealousy. It shows me that you care. That’s so sweet.”
Chet looked like he was vacillating between vomiting and exploding, which made Quentin want to howl with laughter. But he was still delighted by this obvious show of jealousy on Chet’s part – meant he was getting to the big lug. There was hope for him getting laid yet.
Go to Part 6
