Frangipane, Cancer, and Chicken Noodle Soup, Part 1

[nwhiker]

Title: Frangipane, Cancer, and Chicken Noodle Soup

Author: nwhiker

Rating: NC-17

Length: About 60 kwords.



Note: Parts are for lj post length only.







Frangipane, Cancer, and Chicken Noodle Soup

"Left! Left!" hollered Rory, the goalie. Aidan checked to his left and saw that the field was empty, leaving the flank open to an attack from the opposing team. He scanned the field for Zach whose position it was, but he was running around the center field.

In the end Rory made the save. He then tossed the ball to Aidan, who brought it out into play, running with it, ignoring the woman from the other team who tailed him.

It was a beautiful August evening, not too hot, and the team they were playing was the one who competed with them for the spot at the tippy bottom of the chart in their co-ed rec league. There was no reason to be stressed about any of this, win or lose. Which didn't mean that they didn't try to score. They just didn't expect to.

He passed the ball to his sister, Jennifer, who played left front and she was off on the offensive. Nothing came of the attack, of course, and they all moved back.

Back and forth, like waves, the tide.

Zach was in place this time, and the ref called a free kick against him. Rory deflected it, ball went back into the field, picked up by a tall guy who knew how to control it. He zipped between the mid-fielders, coming up in the end zone not too far from Aidan who ran forward.

The guy stopped, looked at the goal, at Aidan, glanced behind him, and kicked. Aidan heard the sound of shoe on ball and watched in horror as the ball flew through the air, headed straight for the ref who was staring at a minor altercation between two other players across the field.

The thwack of ball on chest was sickening.

Aidan crossed the thirty or so feet between him and the ref -Chris? Yeah, Chris- as fast as he could.

Chris was bent in two, swaying, and before he could fall, Aidan helped him sit, putting his arm around him and guiding him to the ground.

Someone called "Ref's out!" and the players started to gather.

Aidan waved them away. Chris had had the wind knocked out of him and seemed to be having a hard time getting the rhythm of breathing back.

He motioned to the other players to stay back and moved into close to Chris's face, to make sure he was seen. He spoke clearly, but not loudly. "Are you all right? Can you breathe?"

"Think... so...." said the other man.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

He nodded.

"Is there any pain anywhere else?"

"No... I'm good. I'm ok."

"Well, sit here for a few more minutes, all right?"

"Shoot. Time. I forgot..." He fumbled with his watch. Jennifer came up next to them.

"Is he ok?" she asked Aidan.

"I think he'll be ok. Winded. And a bad bruise," he said. "Chris? Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"No. Don't need to. I think I'm fine."

A few moments later, he nodded. "I'm good," he said.

Aidan, who'd been kneeling, stood up. He held out a hand for Chris and helped him onto his feet. Their eyes met for a second, and Aidan felt his heart skip a beat. He moved away from Chris, and let him stand on his own. He seemed steady enough.

A cheer came out from the rest of the field. The guy who'd kicked the ball came up to apologize. Aidan remembered then that his name was Sean.

The game was almost over, the score still nil-nil, and they tossed for the ball. The other team won, and Sean kicked it straight out, giving the advantage back to Aidan's team.

Play went on. Aidan kept on looking over to Chris. It could not have been easy for him to finish the game and Aidan noticed that he was slower than before, perhaps more hesitant.

Zara, Jennifer's best friend and co-worker, scored in the last three minutes of play. They won the game, to their surprise, one to nothing. This could mean, Aidan knew as he walked off the field, that they might come in second to last in their league rather than dead last. He smiled to himself.

Pizza had been planned for after, with both teams, and Aidan watched as Jennifer and the other team's captain, a woman whose name he didn't know, started talking.

He looked around for Chris, spotting his black and white jersey among the green -the other team- and turquoise and red -theirs- ones. He walked over to the bench. Chris was taking a water bottle out of a backpack.

"Hey."

Chris looked up. "Hey," he said. "Aidan, right?"

"Yeah."

"Look, thanks for staying with me out there. It was... scary for a few minutes."

"No problem. How are you feeling?"

"Sore, and that's only going to get worse," he said with a grimace.

"Will you come for pizza with us?"

"I--"

"Come on! We're all going, you know to celebrate our position as last and second to last!" Chris laughed. "Yeah, we have no illusions 'round here. It'll be fun, and I know Sean'll want to buy you a beer."

Chris was still hesitant, but Jennifer and the other captain came over to say much the same thing Aidan had. Chris accepted, and Aidan was surprised at how pleased he was.

He went over to his bag, and like everyone else, managed to change. He needed a shower, but that would have to wait until he got home. He splashed some rubbing alcohol under his arms, it felt cold for a few seconds, and he pulled on a clean t-shirt.

He picked up his sports bag, and started walking to his car. Chris was a few feet ahead of him and he called to him. "Chris! Wait up."

He stopped and waited for him.

"Do you know how to get to pizza?"

"Oh yeah. I'm local."

"All right. I wasn't sure." He stopped in front of his blue Subaru Outback. It was few years old, the back was plastered with liberal and gay friendly bumper stickers and he hoped Chris wasn't a homophobic Conservative. He tossed his bag in the back.

"I'll see you there, then?" he said with a smile.

"In a bit. I'm on my bike." He pointed over to a bike locked up across the parking lot. Aidan saw the bike helmet attached to Chris's backpack. He felt stupid for not having noticed this until then.

"Oh. Well, get your bike, and we can toss in in the back of my car," he said. "I'm betting you're sore enough that you don't want to get on it?"

"Umm... You know, I think I'll take you up on that," said Chris with a sudden smile that lit up his face. "I wasn't looking forward to riding."

Aidan got the bike into the car. Chris had offered to do it, and tried to help, but Aidan hadn't missed the wince of pain when he attempted to lift the bike, and shooed him away, easing the bike in among his soccer and hiking boots and daypack. He needed to clear things out, and stop treating the back of his car like a mobile gear repository.

"There is Motrin in the glove box," he said, as he drove out of the park towards downtown Redmond. The sun was almost set and the light was golden.

"Thank you. I wish there was something to prevent bruising, but that'll help."

"Arnica is supposed to work."

"Does it?"

"Um," said Aidan. "I don't know. I've never seen a controlled double blinded study on it, but I slather it on and it doesn't seem to make things worse."

They laughed.

"We can run by the store to get some before pizza, if you want," he suggested.

Chris had swallowed the Motrin. "Sure, what the hell. It can't hurt. Whole Foods?"

"Do you mind if we go to to PCC? It's not that much further and..." His voice trailed off.

"Co-op versus big health food conglomerate," said Chris. "Not a problem."

It didn't take them long to find and Chris smiled as the cashier greeted Aidan by name.

"I take it you shop here often," he said as they were walking out to the car.

"I live not too far from here, work nearby as well. I'm in for coffee in the morning, lunch a few days a weeks, and groceries in the evening."

"Where do you work?"

"I teach biology at Redmond Heights School," said Aidan. Redmond Heights was a well known local prep school. Expensive, exclusive, and very very good.

"I went there," said Chris. Then he shook his head, and Aidan could see that he was uncomfortable.

"Well, that says everything about you and me, then, doesn't it?" he said.

Chris clicked his seatbelt in, and reached out to touch Aidan's forearm. "No, it says nothing about me. Really, it doesn't."

On the way, they'd talked about soccer, and the previous World Cup in South Africa, and vuvuzelas, the weather, and a few other things besides. Now as the silence seemed to deepen Aidan berated himself for his, he admitted it, resentful quip.

Chris cleared his throat a few times, as if to speak, but didn't end up saying anything.

He parked in the lot by the pizza place, and turned toward Chris. "Look, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

Chris shook his head. "I understand. I'm sorry too."

They both nodded at each other, and Chris looked down at his black and white jersey. "I should change," he said.

"Yeah. And put on some of that arnica, it'll start working."

Chris looked around. "Do you, um, mind if I change here? Just my shirt? I don't want to walk in there in ref clothing."

"No, go ahead. I guess it does rather set you apart, huh?"

"You think? People seem to expect me to take out a whistle all the time."

He tried not to look, but couldn't help himself. To his credit, he hoped, the first thing he noticed was the redness and the bruises that were starting to form where Chris has been hit. He winced in sympathy. That would get worse. He also noticed the light brown chest hair, and the contrast between the golden tan of Chris's arms and the creamy white of his shoulders, and he forced himself to look across the parking lot toward the pizza place.

He heard the crinkle of the paper bag as Chris got the arnica ointment out, and opened it. The smell hit him almost immediately, and he glanced over as Chris made a slight face at the cold oiliness on his chest. Aidan watched now, the other man's fingers on his chest, rubbing, touching, and he bit his lip and tried to think about something else, admitting to himself that he found the younger man -Chris had to be at least ten years younger than he was- attractive.

Ten years younger. He needed to remember that. He wondered for a moment if Chris would have been at Redmond Heights when he started.

"Ouch," said Chris.

"Is it bad?"

"Not too bad. Just icky bad. Like the arnica smells. Not bad, just... a bit mediciney."

"It does, doesn't it? At least it smells like it could help."

Chris sighed. "Maybe someone will pour a pitcher of beer over my head. That should help with the smell."

"What happened?" Aidan pointed to a six-inch long scar on Chris's chest, under his left nipple. "Oh sorry. Don't mean to pry."

"Bike accident," said Chris easily. "A long time ago."

He'd found a shirt in his backpack, and pulled it on. Aidan asked "You work for them?" The shirt was from a large software company located in Redmond.

"Yeah."

"Marketing?"

"Do I look like a marketroid?" he asked in mock horror. "No, and not sales either. I'm a developer."

"Oh wow, one of the guys who actually writes the damn code, eh?"

"There are still a few of us left."

For some reason, they both sat for a few moments in the quiet closeness of the car, despite the smell of ointment, and their both being hungry. Aidan was reluctant to move, to disturb whatever fragile... thing seemed to be happening and Chris either felt the same way, or was just tired.

Aidan's phone chimed. He sighed and picked it up. "Niff, wondering where we are."

"Niff?"

"Oh. My sister, Jennifer."

They got out of the car, and in the dusk, started walking towards the restaurant.

"So, you're saying that Jennifer, captain of the Redmond Wallop..."

"The worse or second worse team in the league," interjected Aidan.

"Wait, the 5ft10 gal who could bench press both of us, one of faster runners I've ever seen, and the best penalty kicker in the league by all accounts, that Jennifer is called Niff?"

Aidan laughed. "Yes, she is. Or Niffer. At least by me. Try it, and she might deck you."

They stopped before pushing the door open, and smiled at each other.

"I love it," said Chris. "I know I'm going to be thinking about that next coin toss, or next time she tries to intimidate me after a call she doesn't like."

It was bright and loud inside. Aidan knew they had the backroom to themselves, and he and Chris meandered through the restaurant to get there. He saw some friends of his parents in a corner, having dinner with their daughter and son-in-law and he waved at them, and they all waved back.

The backroom will full of soccer players, and Sean, who'd kicked the ball that'd hit Chris, got up, and came over, followed by a few other people.

It didn't take long to get pizza, soda for both of them, and to find seats across from each other. Talking became almost impossible, people were shouting, the conversation, and good humor were general, raucous, and rambling.

He caught Chris looking at him a few times, and wondered at that, if, maybe, but he dismissed any thoughts along those lines by reminding himself that Chris was young, and handsome, probably not gay, and even if he was, he'd not be interested in someone ten years his senior, a high school teacher, living in suburbia.

Eventually, the party broke up, people having to work the next day, with a promise of pizza again when the Wallop next played in Renton. Aidan noticed Rory leaving with one of the women from the Renton team, and smiled to himself.

"Ready?" he asked Chris.

"Yes!"

"More than?"

"Um... It was fun. And loud."

"I know. I'm sorry, I should have asked you if you wanted to leave long before this, but--"

"Yo, Aidan?" It was Jennifer.

"Yup?"

"Come to dinner Tuesday. A bud of Ted's brought some kind of ucky fish back from fishing in Alaska, and we're eating it. Well, you are, if you want. I'm having chicken." She looked at Chris. "Wanna come?"

Chris looked surprised at having been asked. "I'm sorry, I can't. I, um--"

She waved him off. "Oh well, maybe next time. I'm glad you aren't in too much pain... Arnica?"

He laughed. "Yes."

"No idea if it does any good, but I don't think it hurts. My parents use it too."

She left, getting into her car and peeling out of the parking lot.

"Does she ever slow down?"

"Nope. Never."

"Ah."

"I'll drive you home."

"I can bike it."

"No, it's fine... unless you don't want me, umm," he trailed off, flustered.

"No, I just didn't want to put you out, I mean, it isn't far, but..."

"Not to worry. Let's go."

Again, they sat in the car, talking this time, when they'd gotten to Chris's place, which was a condo in the building next to the one where Aidan owned a condo that he didn't live in. They'd both been to New York City earlier in the summer and compared notes on what they'd seen, where they'd been, and both were planning to go to Italy the following spring. They talked a lot about soccer. Chris had season tickets to the Seattle Sounders, and travelled to some of their away games as well.

At some point, Aidan realized how late it was, and how fast the time had passed, and his voice faltered, feeling that he'd taken up too much of Chris's time.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Really. Um. Let me help you with your bike."

They got the bike out, and Aidan carried it up the few stairs to the front entry, and rolled it over to the elevator. Chris pressed the button, and Aidan looked around. Should he--

"Coming up?"

"Um, I, um..." Chris hadn't waited for an answer, but since he'd not pushed the bike into the elevator, Aidan did. They rode up to the fourth floor.

He wouldn't go any further than the door. He wouldn't go in. It would be a bad idea, and he didn't want to put Chris out at all.

Door open, Chris turned around, and Aidan spoke in a rush, pushing the bike forward ahead of himself.

"Well, here's your bike... It was great to meet you. Don't forget to use the arnica tonight before bed, and you know, maybe some more Motrin. It was good to chat."

"Uh..."

"See you around, maybe!" said Aidan, and he turned away, managing to squeeze in the elevator before the doors shut.

"Uh, bye! Thanks!" called Chris.

His face, Aidan could see, looked both amused and bemused.

He kicked himself all the way to his car. He hadn't gotten Chris's phone number, or his email address, or given him his. Yes, he knew where Chris lived, but he didn't know his last name, and wasn't about to stalk him on the internet either.

He leaned his head against his steering wheel for a moment, and the horn blared. He jumped, and looked around, but there was nobody in the deserted parking lot to feel offended at the noise. He drove home, smiling when he remembered how enjoyable the evening had been, and cringing when he realized how long he'd kept Chris and how bored the other man must have been. Above all, though, he wished he'd gotten his contact information.

============ ============ ============

School would not start until the beginning of September, but Aidan was in his office or the biology lab every day for a few weeks before then, getting final orders in for any materials he'd need, taking care of the aquariums that contained some of the plants they'd use for various experiments, evaluating new software for virtual dissections, and other tasks of that sort. He enjoyed the time of year, the anticipation of what is to come, getting to know new students, experiencing new class dynamics. He was looking forward to a new class he'd be teaching, offered only to the more advanced seniors, on DNA. He'd be working with one of the chemistry teachers on it, and they were both excited at the prospect.

He stretched, and noticed he was hungry. He'd worked through lunch and it was already mid-afternoon. He'd leave in an hour or so, once he got a clean install on the database he wanted to use to track class materials etc.

Someone knocked, and he sighed and called out "Come in." When he looked up, Chris was by his desk.

Aidan stood up, flustered. "Uh, hi! I, uh, didn't expect you, uh..." He held out his hand, pulled it back, held it out again when he saw Chris had been going to take it. They shook hands, and Aidan bit the inside of his cheek to try to steady himself.

"I figured you'd be around here somewhere," Chris said. "Lab's been updated since I was here."

"Oh. Yeah, that's right. Yeah, it has, four years ago. I, um..."

"Ms VanSant had run of the place when I was here," said Chris.

"Oh, yes, I never met her, but she, um, yeah..." So they hadn't overlapped at Redmond Heights.

Chris looked at him, a smile on his face. "Aidan, I'm sorry to intrude. I wanted to see you again, and since we didn't exchange email or phone numbers, I came here. I hope you aren't too upset with me."

Aidan blinked a few times. "No! No, not at all! I'm glad you did." He smiled, almost sheepish. "I considered sending you, you know, an actual letter, but even with the address just Chris sounded too stupid, and I didn't."

"Oh. Well, formal introductions are in order then. Chris Gallant." He held out his hand again. Aidan took it. "Like God's Knight Gallant?"

Knight Gallant was a local preacher, fundamentalist, and very very much a hater of gays and lesbians, whose deaths he prayed for every Sunday in his large north Seattle church.

"My father."

"What? Oh. I'm sorry. I'm didn't know, I was just..." He was embarrassed. He'd noted the name, but hadn't thought that... Oh god. He blushed. He was babbling, remembering some of the more hateful things Knight Gallant had said about men like him.

"Aidan. I haven't spoken to him in years. I don't agree with him, I'm not like him." He'd spoken with urgency.

Aidan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I brought that up. I--" He took another deep breath. "Aidan Lake."

"Nice to meet you, Aidan."

"Nice to meet you, Chris."

"Now that we've met, I'm not losing you again. Do you have any idea how horrible it was to come back here? Give me your email address, phone number, and whatever, please!" He was smiling.

"Bad years here?" he asked, grabbing paper and handing Chris some too.

Chris looked up from writing in his phone number. "Not too bad. Just... like middle school and high school are, right? Not the best time of my life, to say the least."

"I suppose," said Aidan. "Middle school was bad."

They exchanged papers and Aidan folded his and carefully put it in the pocket of his jeans.

"Now that that is done, will you come to dinner tonight?" asked Chris.

"I..."

"Any other time is fine, of course, but I just figured I'd ask."

Aidan knew he was grinning like a fool. "No, I'd love to. Tonight would be great."

"Good. Can you leave now?"

He laughed. "Not quite yet. I have got to get this database software at the very least installed, I can set things up tomorrow, but I need to get this done today. I don't think it'll take me more than an hour."

His stomach growled then, and they both heard it. Chris grinned.

"Budge over," said Chris. "Let me see."

It took Chris, Aidan guessed, half the time it would have taken him. The database installation went quickly and without hitch, and Chris tested the bar coding for him, and set up tables when Aidan explained what he was trying to accomplish.

"Thank you. You made it look so easy. I don't quite understand how that software works, so, umm, yeah..."

Chris laughed. "I wrote part of it! Now will you come to dinner?"

"Sure," said Aidan, glancing at his watch. It wasn't quite 4 p.m., and that felt early for dinner, but Chris seemed to want him to come over right away. And he hadn't had lunch.

They walked out of the science building onto the large, wooded campus. It was almost empty, only a few cars were in the lot. Aidan glanced at the Nissan Leaf parked next to his Subaru.

"Yours?" he asked.

"Yeah. There is a charging station at work, and at my condo. I can't go much anywhere else with it, and I bike to work most days, but I needed a car of some sort and this works."

"You don't road trip much, huh?"

"God no. Ugh. Memories of trips with my father." He shuddered visibly. "But if I have to go to Portland or Vancouver or something, I just rent a car."

"I suppose," said Aidan.

"Let me guess," said Chris, "your family took long trips when you were a kid, with Niff and you sitting in the backseat poking each other. You camped, and had a great time in Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, and even went back East once or twice... How am I doing?"

Aidan shrugged, and opened his car door. "Pretty good actually." He felt ashamed for some reason he couldn't pin down. Maybe like he had lived a stereotype to Chris, and that rankled.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make fun of you or anything."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"I do worry about it. I never had that, you know? My family is a bunch of... well, you know. I didn't mean to sound mocking when I'm in fact envious." He was staring at the ground, playing with his keys. He sighed loudly. "Let's do this again, ok?" Aidan heard him take a deep breath. "No, I haven't done any roadtrips as an adult. I'd love to, but I have no experience. So having a car that can go more than 100 miles away from home hasn't been an issue so far."

Aidan smiled. "We pretty much went on a long roadtrip every summer. And it wasn't just me and Niff, we have a brother."

"Oh?"

"Michael. He's a carpenter, lives in Oregon."

"And you're the?"

"Youngest. Michael is 38, Niff is 36, and I'm the baby at 34. You?"

"Also the youngest. Two older sisters, two older brothers." He took a breath. "I'm 26, by the way."

"A fine age to be."

"Glad you think so. Follow me home?"

"Sure."

He got in his car. 26. Which meant that Chris was eight younger than him, if he even was gay, or interested in Aidan. He'd asked him to come for dinner... there was that, but it didn't have to mean, well, anything.

And eight years was a long time, he reflected, as he followed Chris off campus and back to his place. He remembered being eight. It was about then that he'd first started suspecting he wasn't like everyone else. He shook his head. Too young. Chris was too young. If he wanted to date, he needed to find someone his own age. Someone at least 30. He'd have dinner with Chris, and that would be that.

============ ============ ============

At they walked into the condo, Chris turned toward Aidan and said, "Please tell me you aren't deathly allergic to shellfish. Or that you despise bacon. Or that you don't eat bread, or you hate raspberries or almonds..."

Aidan shook his head. "I'm not deathly allergic to anything, I love almonds, bacon, and bread. And raspberries. Nothing to worry about."

Chris leaned on the door he'd just closed. "That's what you think. I've never cooked for anyone before."

Aidan felt a slow blush creep up his neck, to his cheeks. A quick look at Chris showed him to be pink as well, and he was biting his lip. It took an effort, but Aidan managed a smile. "Well, I'm flattered. And I'm sure it'll all be fine. It smells good in here."

Chris's voice was mournful. "That's just bacon. Bacon is always good."

"Right," said Aidan. "And anything with bacon in it is good, by definition. So whatever it is that you're preparing, it'll be good because it has bacon in it!" And because, he thought, but did not say, you bothered to make it for me, for whatever reason that is.

"Thanks," said Chris. "Do you want some wine? Or is it too early? I'm sorry, do you even drink?"

"It's a bit early, but oh well," he said. "I'd like some wine."

He followed Chris into the kitchen, all stainless appliances, cherry cabinets, and granite countertops. It was, he knew, what his brother called "generic upscale kitchen".

The generic stopped with the furnishings, though. It was obvious that this kitchen that was used, often, and Aidan thought, looking around, despite Chris's misgivings, well. He himself barely cooked, subsiding on take out from PCC, scrambled eggs, and other easy meals, but he recognized the sense of personal organization that told him that Chris had made this kitchen his own.

"A Riesling all right?"

"Perfect."

Chris uncorked the bottle that had been chilling in a bucket, and poured them each a glass of the wine.

"Cheers!" he said, and took a sip of the wine. It was cold, and perfumed, and just sweet enough.

"I know it's a rather sweet wine," said Chris, an apology in his voice. "But I do tend to like sweeter wines, I hope it's ok."

Aidan laughed. "Oh my god, I thought I was the only one. Do you like beer?"

"Gah. No. Much too bitter. I think I'm the only one in this whole area who doesn't though."

"No, that's two of us. And as far as wine is concerned, sweeter is better. I haven't quite gotten to the point of drinking dessert wines with dinner, but I've thought of it."

Chris grinned. "I've got some ice wine for dessert."

"I'll look forward to it."

He perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, and watched as Chris continued preparing dinner. He sipped his wine, and wondered at how hesitant Chris seemed, when on the field, he was assertive, and known never to take any crap from anyone.

"Humm..." he said as Chris chopped mushrooms.

"What?"

"That knife work is way too fast for me to risk a sortie to steal a mushroom."

"Yeah, you'd lose a finger." He put down his knife. "There."

"Thank you," said Aidan, helping himself to a mushroom. "OK, you may not cook for other people, but you do cook, that I can tell."

"Yeah, I do. For myself, mostly. I took some classes when I was in college." He pushed a few slices of apples towards Aidan, who didn't turn them down. "I'd always thought I'd, like, entertain a lot, and have loads of friends, and cook for everyone and all that, but I never got around to it." He shrugged.

"Well, I'm glad you asked me," Aidan said, eating some apple. That explained the nervousness, and showing up with dinner plans at 4 p.m. It also, he thought, gave some insight into why someone who loved soccer as much as Chris did, and who was in excellent physical condition chose to be a solitary referee rather than play on a team.

Chris topped off their glasses, and came to sit next to Aidan. The kitchen smelled delicious, of mussels and Calvados and bacon. He'd popped a loaf of bread into the oven to warm up, and it looked like he might be starting to relax.

"I'm glad you came," he said.

Aidan nodded, keeping like a refrain in the back of his mind the words 'twenty-six, twenty-six, twenty-six', "I'm glad I came too. This smells wonderful."

When dinner was ready, Chris dished them both up big bowls of mussels swimming in cream, Calvados and sprinkled with bacon. He broke the bread into big chunks, and Aidan thought that it was a good thing that he had missed lunch because he was very very hungry and there was plenty of hot delicious food.

They ate with their fingers, tossing the empty mussel shells into a big bowl, and the pile of empties got bigger and bigger, and sopping up the sauce with the bread. Between mouthfuls, and sometimes with their mouths full, they talked and laughed, and told stories about their time on opposite sides of the divide at the Redmond Heights School.

Since they'd eaten so early, it was early when they finished. They ended up going out and walking down by the river for an hour or so, still talking, enjoying the late evening, and watching to see if they could see the first signs of autumn in the late summer nature.

The sun was setting as they stood watching some ducks swim by, and Aidan felt his face was sore from smiling and laughing. He looked over at Chris, and said, "Look, I should tell you now, so you know, I'm gay."

Then he looked away, staring back at the ducks, watching as they suddenly took flight, spooked by something he did not notice.

Chris reached out to touch his arm. "Aidan, I knew that. I'm not sure how, I guess it filtered from somewhere."

"Oh." He was out, had been for years, it wasn't a secret.

"But now, I'm not sure if you know that I am?"

He started. He hadn't known, and the impact of what that must have meant, considering who Chris's father was, struck him.

"Oh my god. Your parents?"

"Pretty bad," he said, and Aidan could hear the bitterness in his voice. "I'll tell you some day. Right now, lets go back to my place to have dessert, all right?"

============ ============ ============

Dessert was a tart with raspberries and a thin layer of filling that tasted like almonds and that Chris said was called frangipane. They had ice wine, sweet and perfumed, as they sat in the half darkness of Chris's living room.

"Music?"

"Sure."

"Preferences?"

"Whatever you want..." He closed his eyes, wondering if what he wanted to happen would. Was he the one who should make a move? Would Chris? Should he?

Classical, "Mozart," said Chris softly as he sat back down, closer, Aidan noticed, than he had been before. He swallowed. He knew they were coming to a decision point of some sort. He thought, though he wasn't sure, that Chris might be planning on taking the initiative. Should he... what? Make it clear that he wasn't interested, even though he was, but he shouldn't be? He took another sip of wine. His hands were shaking, and his mouth was dry.

Chris leaned over and took his wine glass away and set it on the side table. He didn't say anything but put his hand on Aidan's thigh, his intent clear. He didn't move, neither did, and they just sat there for a while, Aidan had no idea how long, Chris's hand was warm and heavy, and Aidan tried to think about what he should do next. He knew it was up to him, and he wrestled with it. "Twenty-six, twenty-six, twenty-six..." He was too old for this, too old for Chris. Eight years older. Eight years was... a long time.

And yet. He knew he was kidding himself by pretending that he didn't want whatever was happening to happen.

It had been far too long since he'd flirted, far too long since he'd dated, since he'd kissed another guy. He liked Chris, he'd liked him from pretty much the first moments they'd spent together, why not?

Twenty-six.

Twenty-six, but when Chris leaned over to kiss him, it didn't matter.

What mattered was the taste of wine in Chris's mouth, and the warmth of his lips. What mattered was his arms, strong and sure of themselves, firmly around Aidan. What mattered was his tongue licking Aidan's lips, prodding gently until Aidan opened his mouth, and then what mattered was the wonderful, rough sweetness of tongues undulating.

They pulled away from each other slightly, and Aidan thrilled at Chris's smile, both sweet and sensual, and as they leaned towards each other again, he heard him murmur "Aidan." They both wanted more, and Aidan ran his fingers through Chris's hair, then left his hand at the back of Chris's head, holding him close, closer. He shifted his body to get them closer and felt Chris move as well, hooking his leg on top of Aidan's, and and hugging him even tighter. Time passed, passionate and needy.

The doorbell, followed by loud knocking, was most intrusive.

They moved away from each other, and Chris shook his head as if to clear it. "What the hell?" he groaned.

The noise from the door did not abate, so he got up slowly. He turned back towards Aidan and spoke softly. "I'm sorry," he said.

Aidan nodded, and leaned over to turn on the lamp on the end table. Chris flipped on the hallway lights before opening the door.

As Chris moved aside and his visitor stepped into the hallway, Aidan felt his heart sink. He knew him. He stood up, and seconds later, the other two were in the living room.

"Hey, Chris, did you want to go out for a beer? You know the new place, down by Frankie's? They're having a jazz ensemble tonight, I thought you, me, and Malia could go... Oh hey! Mister Lake!" He walked over to Aidan, his hand outstretched.

"Mister Bates," Aidan replied, shaking hands with the other man. He felt sick.

"Wow, awesome to see you, Sir! You know Chris, huh? Me and Malia, you know, Malia Green? I know she took Senior biology and also bioethics with you, huh? Well, Malia and I live next door... Heh, you wanna come with us? Chris?"

Twenty-six. And his friends were former students of Aidan's. Twenty-six. Aidan shook his head, ignoring the regret that ate at him. "No, I can't, I need to get home and get to bed," he said, faking a yawn. "Chris, dinner was great, thank you so much..."

"Don't go, Mister L! Let me get Malia, I know she'd love to see you, and really, it'd be fun, we could hang...."

"I'll have to catch Malia some other time," he said, quickly. Kyle was bad enough, he didn't want to see Malia too. "Again, Chris, thanks. The food was spectacular and I enjoyed our walk." He reached out to touch Chris's shoulder, as if to say sorry, as if to try to convey his regret that, well, he wasn't sure. His regret. He left quickly, not giving Chris the time to say anything.

============ ============ ============

"I think you should call him," said Jennifer.

He grunted, continuing to count.

"Seriously. Just call him. Or something."

He heaved the barbell to its resting space. "Niff! You're supposed to be spotting me, and not, you know, harassing me while I lift..."

"I'm not harassing you. I'm just saying that I think you should call him."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why ever not? Move over. My turn."

They exchanged places. Jennifer could bench press more than he could. He sighed, and took his position as spotter.

"Look, he's too young for me, it's not going to happen, and I want to know how you found out about, well, anything."

"You mean that you went to dinner at his place?"

"Niff! Who told you?"

"You just did!" she said, adjusting her position on the bench.

"You didn't even know that we'd seen each other?"

"Actually, I did. Ted saw you walking on the trail with him and mentioned it to me. He didn't know who Chris was, but he described him pretty well."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ted was a deputy sheriff. People, and observing them, were his stock in trade.

"He was going to say hi, but he said you two looked like you were having a good time, so he didn't. Since it was early evening, I figured you'd have had dinner together."

"His place?"

"Ha!" she said. "You mentioned he lived in the condos near yours, and since you were on the trail, I just figured."

"God, you slay me."

"Big sister, little brother," she said, sitting up. "I'm done, come on, let's have a cup of coffee. Now seriously, why don't you call him?"

They sat at her kitchen table with coffee. He added milk to his, she took hers black.

"Look, I had dinner with him, but he's too young for me, so that's that."

"How old is he? I figured at least mid twenties."

"Twenty-six."

"Which is not too young for you. What are you talking about?"

"Eight years younger than me is too young, Niff."

"Don't be stupid, Aidan. It is not. Especially since he must have asked you to dinner, right?"

He shrugged.

"So he did... Look are you going to make me drag every bit of this out of you, or just tell me what happened?"

He sighed. Jennifer, like both of their parents, had a gift with people. They either talked, or she made them talk. He filled her in.

"Aidan, he invited you, he obviously wanted to hang out with you, he made the effort to find you at school. I don't see why you're being so difficult."

"If he wanted to see me again, he could have called."

"Don't be ridiculous. You probably gave out so many 'I gotta get out of here' vibes when you saw that student of yours, he'd be much too afraid. What were you doing when you were interrupted?"

"Niff!"

"Still dressed?"

"Yes. Jesus, do you have any tact?"

"None whatsoever, especially where you are concerned. Gary is gone, Aidan, it's over. You need to..."

"Leave Gary out of this! This has nothing to do with Gary."

"That's the problem, isn't it? Everything has everything to do with Gary." She put their mugs in the dishwasher, her back to him. "Look, Aidan, give me his number, I'll give him a call, and invite him to Second Sunday supper. It's informal, there are enough people there that he won't feel like it's a date or..."

"No. Niff, please!"

Second Sunday Supper was a tradition their parents had started when Michael went to university on the other side of the state and wasn't often home, and when he was, had often spent most of his time with friends. Second Sunday Supper, on the second Sunday of the month, was a time that they all tried their best to make, and friends were always welcome. When their parents had moved to Arizona, Jennifer and Aidan had taken over, splitting hosting duties, and Michael tried to come up from Oregon every other month or so. Their aunt Milena always came, and the one of her daughters who still lived in the area. Jennifer's friend Zara, Ted's brother Travis, and Aidan's best friend from high school, Mark, were often there as well.

"Fine. Not this month. But I'm inviting him next month if you don't."

He sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I'll call him and invite him to go for a bike ride next weekend, and he'll refuse, and that'll be that."

============ ============ ============

To his surprise (though not Jennifer's when he told her) Chris accepted immediately. They met at Marymoor Park early on Saturday morning. By some unspoken agreement, neither mentioned their previous encounter or how it had ended.

It made Aidan happy to realize that they were pretty well matched as far as bike riding went. They rode into Seattle, and had lunch at a small pizza place near the Burke-Gilman Trail, then biked back to the Eastside. As they passed the Redhook Brewery, Aidan stopped and suggested they not go for a beer, and Chris laughed. Back in Redmond, they went for coffee, and just sat and talked, and then biked over to a Thai place and had dinner.

"I've got a game tomorrow," said Chris.

Aidan nodded. "And I have got to get some yard work done." He sighed.

"Monday evening? We could, oh, I don't know, go for a run or a bike ride, then have dinner and..."

"Can't. Faculty potluck," said Aidan. "I'm free Tuesday."

"I'm out of town through Friday," said Chris. "Work trip to LA."

"Next Saturday, then?"

"If possible. That's Labor Day weekend? Did you have plans?"

"Not really. School starts on Tuesday, of course, so it's the calm before the storm for me. Niff and Ted are out of town, and I was planning on sitting on my ass in the yard for three days. With a book." He smiled. "You're welcome to join me."

"That sounds spectacular. Do you game?"

"As in?"

"As in Wii or xBox or the like?"

Aidan shook his head. "Not often, and not very well. I don't own a gaming system, I'm ashamed to admit."

"How about I bring over my Wii?"

"That would be fun, I'd love try that."

There was, perhaps, a moment or two of awkwardness when they said goodnight, neither sure of where they stood, but it passed, and Aidan biked home secure in the knowledge that they'd had a good day together, and that, he hoped, the next weekend would be fun.

============ ============ ============

"So you're spending the weekend together! That's great!" said Jennifer, He'd told her, because it was useless trying to hide it from her.

"Not quite spending the weekend, I mean..."

"Aidan. You seem to like him, you know you think there is some chemistry between you. If it happens... don't fight it, ok?"

"Fight what?"

"Attraction. Making out. Maybe even sex."

He shrugged. "He's too young--"

"Stop that. No he isn't. And he obviously doesn't think he is either."

"He hangs out with people who were my students. That makes him too young."

"Yeah, well he seems to want to hang out with you. That makes him perfect."

He shook his head, but dropped it. He wished he felt better about it. He did like Chris. A lot. He enjoyed spending time with him, and was looking forward to the weekend. Still, he was concerned about where this was going, if anywhere. The age difference was daunting.

Friday he cleaned up. He was living in his parents' house. They hadn't wanted to sell it when they moved to Phoenix, just in case they didn't take to the heat of Arizona, and he'd been more than happy to move out of his condo. He hated the place. He supposed he should sell it while the market was up, but he had good tenants for the time being and it didn't seem like a pressing issue. So he'd moved back into the house he'd grown up in, back into his old room. It sometimes seemed to him like he should have moved on, beyond his boyhood room and furniture, but for now it felt safe, and was convenient for him and his parents. They'd suggested he move into the master bedroom, which was on the ground floor, with a deck leading out to the garden, but he'd declined. That would have felt wrong. Plus he didn't want to bother buying new furniture.

When he was done with the cleaning, he went shopping. He wasn't a cook, to say the least, and he hoped Chris would be ok with simple pick up stuff, or take out. He bought ice cream and wine, sandwich fixings, everything he needed to bake chocolate chip cookies, and plenty of fruit.

As he was loading his purchases into the car, he found himself smiling. He'd have looked forward to this "downtime" weekend no matter what. Knowing he was going to be sharing at least part of it with Chris made him anticipate it even more.

============ ============ ============

He'd shown Chris the house when he got there mid-morning.

"So why don't you use the master bedroom?" Chris had asked.

"That's what everyone wants to know. It just would have felt too weird."

"You mean, like, your parents had sex here?"

"Argh!" said Aidan. "Don't say that! My parents never had sex. Well, maybe three times. But no more than that!"

Chris laughed, and Aidan did too. "I don't know, really. I thought about it, but in the end, I just stayed in my old room."

"It's a shame. It's a nice room, and I like the private deck and the screened garden." The bedroom opened onto one side of the house and Aidan's mom had created a small private side garden.

"I know it's nice. There's a hot tub too," he said pointing towards the left, "but since I don't use it, it isn't even filled."

They went upstairs and Aidan opened the door to Niff's old room, now just a generic guest room.

"And this used to be Michael's room. I call it the fish room."

"Whoa," said Chris when Aidan opened the door. The room was darkened, and there were three large aquariums bubbling away. There was a couch, and Chris could see a table with table with supplies on it, and a small fridge, but it was the aquariums that dominated the room.

"What do you have here?" he asked, and Aidan got started telling him. The freshwater aquarium was first, and it was, Chris found out, a glorified goldfish bowl: full of orange, and orange and white fish with flowing graceful tails.

"Do you have a koi pond in the backyard?" he asked.

Aidan shook his head. "No, I don't. I thought about it, but there are raccoons, and even a few coyotes that roam the neighborhood. Didn't seem practical."

"That one's pretty," Chris said, pointing at a silver fish with a red growth on its head.

"Red-cap aranda," said Aidan. "And that over there, with the double tail? It's a veiltail." He showed Chris a white fish with deep orange spots. "That's my favorite." He sprinkled some food on the surface of the water and they watched as the fish swam up to eat. "I've had this tank since I was in high school. That fish," he said pointing large and generic goldfish, "I've had since then."

They walked over to the first saltwater tank, and Chris saw clown fish and anemones, angelfish, and some cute little purple fish. Aidan pointed out each different angelfish, said that the purple fish were black cap basslets, and showed him another variety of basslet that was hiding on the other side, that were half purple half yellow. There was starfish of various shapes and hues, and Aidan said that the coral was all living.

"I'm impressed. How much care does this require?"

"Some. I'm used to it, and I have a few people who can back me up when I go on vacation. I'll often come in here just to sit. I like the light and the bubbling."

The third tank made Chris gulp. It was big and contained only lionfish, three varieties, Aidan told him. "Aren't they poisonous?" he asked.

"Yes, very."

"OK?"

"Well, I don't swim in the tank, or put my hands in it much," said Aidan. "They're pretty though, and I like them."

"And here I thought you were normal," said Chris. "But what do I find? That you keep bloodthirsty creatures in a back bedroom."

"They're not bloodthirsty," he protested. "They're quite calm, and they sting only if they're threatened. They're pretty, and they know me."

"They know you?"

"Yes, they do. Really."

"OK."

"Wait. I'm not helping this 'normal' thing, huh?"

"Not much."

"Ah well."

They smiled at each other, then both stood and watched the lionfish. They were swimming lazily around the tank, and there was something both mesmerizing and soothing about them, Chris found out.

"What do they eat?"

"Meat."

"Ah. Is that what you do with ex-boyfriends?"

Aidan nodded. "Of course. I cut up their hearts and feed them to the fishies."

One fish was staring at them, and slowly spinning. Then it swam to the top of the tank and from what Chris could tell, spit water at them.

"Hey!" he said.

Aidan laughed. "Beggar!"

"Beggar?"

"For food. You know, like a dog at the table?"

He went over to the fridge, and took out a small container. It appeared to contain small dead fish.

"Minnows," he said. He dropped one in and it was devoured in one gulp. "They prefer live fish, but I've trained all of these to eat prepared and pre-cut food."

Leaving the room was jarring, the contrast between bright and dark, normal quiet and bubbling, intense.

Aidan walked across the hallway and opened another door. "My room," he said, letting Chris go in ahead of him.

Chris looked around, at the double bed, the dresser, all in some light wood. There was a large duvet with a copper colored cover on the bed, and a dark green and copper rug over hardwoods. The walls were painted a lighter green, and the curtains were coppery colored silk. There was an armchair with green upholstery and a copper colored pillow. There were photographs on the walls. Chris pointed. "Did you take those?"

"Yeah, most of them. From travelling." He felt nervous, having Chris in his room. At least it was clean, he'd vacuumed the previous afternoon.

Chris saw something move in the corner of his eye, and turned. A large orange cat he hadn't noticed had jumped off the armchair. He laughed. "I thought you were a pillow," he said kneeling down and petting the cat, who submitted to it with reasonably good grace.

"That's Pizzie," said Aidan. "She was my parents' cat, but didn't seem to do well in Arizona so they brought her back here to live with me. I'm glad to have her. She's spoiled rotten, though she thinks I'm mean because I won't let her have sushi for dinner."

They had lunch together, sandwiches and fruit, on the deck outside and afterwards sat around, reading and talking. It was low key, and comfortable. Neither felt the need to entertain the other, but it was nice, Aidan thought, to have someone else there.

Late in the afternoon, Chris set up his Wii in the family room, and tried to teach Aidan to play. Chris laughed a lot. Aidan had a Wii controller in one hand, the strap around his wrist, and he was trying to play tennis against a funny cartoon character on the screen of his TV. It wasn't going too well.

He swung again, and missed, and sighed. Then Chris's arms were around him, his chin on Aidan's shoulder, as he helped him deconstruct the motion, and the cartoon racket hit the cartoon ball, and Aidan gulped, and panicked. Another return, then a serve, and Chris was still there.

"OK?" he asked, his mouth close to Aidan's ear.

Aidan shook his head. "No," he said. "I can't. Not now. I can't." He couldn't turn to look at Chris, he was ashamed, and sad, and conflicted.

Chris held him tighter for a moment, a breath, then let go of him, and Aidan felt bereft. He had wanted whatever it was that Chris had been offering.

"All right," Chris said. "I think I'm pretty clear on where I'd like to see us go, Aidan. Do you still want to hang out, or not?"

He turned, though he couldn't quite look Chris in the eye. "I like hanging out with you," he said, honestly. "I just.. I just can't, anything else, I mean. At least now." He was afraid he'd start babbling, so he shut up.

"Is this is a 'no, never' or a 'perhaps some day'? Or something else all together?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"All right," repeated Chris. "I'm willing to give this time, if you are?"

Aidan nodded.

"Good," said Chris, his tone crisp, "Then how about I show you this racing game?"

Jennifer called Aidan late that evening, from her hotel on the Oregon Coast, and Aidan could hear Ted and his friends in the background, no doubt playing one of their interminable games of poker. Chris was still there, so he didn't say much, but he told her he was having a great time, had learned to play Mario Kart, and that they were baking cookies. Chris grinned and leaned in close to say "Hi Jennifer!" into the phone. Aidan scrambled eggs for dinner, and would have apologized, but Chris didn't give him the opportunity. The momentary awkwardness of earlier in the afternoon seemed to have passed, and they had a good time, or at least Aidan did, and he thought Chris did too.

On Sunday, Chris had promised to go to Bumbershoot with Kyle and Malia and while he asked Aidan to join them, Aidan had declined. He spent his Sunday cleaning out the goldfish tank, and doing some class prep.

On Monday, though, they met for brunch and then walked over to the large outdoor mall with the REI because Aidan needed a new pair of bike gloves, and Chris wanted to look at a daypack. It didn't take long to pick out either item, and they walked over to the Borders Books and Chris bought a few mysteries.

As they walked out of the bookstore, a young man with red hair wearing pistachio green jeans -very tight pistachio green jeans- rushed up to them. "Aidan!" he said, and his voice was almost a squeal. "It's so wonderful to see you! It's been absolutely ages!" Exuberantly, he hugged Aidan, who stilled in horror, and then he turned to Chris. "Hi, I'm Connor! What's your name?"

Chris held out his hand. "Chris. Nice to meet you Connor."

"You a special friend of Aidan's? How sweet. Aidan, when can we get together for dinner, all four of us... Oh.. I gotta go! Bye!" He crossed the street without looking, almost getting hit by a car, and rejoined a much older man who put his arm possessively around his shoulders. The older man turned to look at Chris and Aidan, and Aidan pretended to look elsewhere.

"Uh huh," said Chris motioning at the couple with his chin. "There are a few ways to describe that relationship, and the people involved in it, but none of them are real pretty."

"Mmm," said Aidan, feeling his knees go week.

"He's not... I mean...?"

"I met him at a hot yoga class a few years back." 'And a few months after that, he'd moved in with my long term lover', he thought, but did not say.

"Gah. I'm sorry, I just hate the type," said Chris. "God, does he not get that all he is is a cute piece of ass for an older guy?"

"Maybe he isn't," said Aidan, feeling desperate.

"Please. Any guy screwing someone that young isn't interested in what the kid has to say."

"I suppose," said Aidan. He didn't say much as they walked back to Chris's condo. Chris was right, and Aidan knew it. Connor wasn't in a relationship, he was arm and eye candy, a dalliance, someone who could, and would, be replaced when a younger and cuter model came along. Like he himself had been.

As he drove home later that evening, after Chris had fed him an excellent dinner, and he'd managed to be good company, he promised himself he'd cut it off with Chris. He'd not call him again, and would ignore him if he called. School would start the next day, and he'd be busy, and he felt very much that this would be his loss.