Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/253168.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      No_Fandom, Riptide_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Cody_Allen/Nick_Ryder
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-09-14 Words: 10152
****** Long Time Passing ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     A trip to San Francisco triggers some bad memories for Nick, and
     releases some ghosts he hoped were long buried. Now he's asking Cody
     to understand and make a choice.
Notes
     by Duval
Leaning against the wheelhouse railing, Nick Ryder watched the last traces of
the sunset fade into dusk. He sighed heavily. Their recent trip to San
Francisco had brought back more painful memories than he'd expected. The case
had held them off for most of the trip, but Janet--
Well, she was another matter altogether. And her words still burned in the pit
of the detective's stomach. . . .
"You afraid I'll steal Cody away from you again?" she'd asked him angrily.
"What's your problem?"
Nick rubbed the back of his neck. Damn, damn, damn, he stormed silently. Why is
this all coming up again? It's over. Buried. Gone!
Cody had taken an emotional nose-dive after they returned to King Harbor, just
like Nick knew he would. At least Janet was in London and safely away from the
blond detective for the time being.
Nick and Murray had nursed their partner through the emotional ordeal and he
was more or less back to his old self. A little more reflective, but no longer
moping around the boat like a love-starved puppy. But now Nick found himself
facing his own demons, conceived in what seemed like a lifetime ago in the City
by the Bay.
 
Why are these feelings surfacing now? It's not fair, damn it. Nick gripped the
railing tighter. I've handled this for years! Twenty fuckin' years! So why now?
It's just not fair.
Because you damn near lost him this time, that's why, he admitted begrudgingly
to himself. Janet came back and almost took him away. And if she could, someone
else might. You're scared, Nick-o.
Nick slammed his open palm against the shiny brass. I can't let this happen.
Not now, not ever. That's all over. I'm not like that. I won't be like that!
He spun on his heel and lunged down the wheelhouse stairs, landing on the
stern. Vaulting over the railing, he jogged to the entrance of the Fish Market
before he felt he'd made good his escape. The Saturday evening crowd moved
lazily along the sidewalk, ignoring Nick's intrusion. Pushing through a clutch
of teenagers, he set out at a jog for the beach. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Cody heard the crash as Nick left the Riptide. Sliding the salon door open, he
watched his partner disappear into the crowd along the pier. "Nick!" he called,
but the man was too far away to hear.
Murray climbed up from his stateroom, a concerned frown creasing his youthful
face. "Something wrong?"
"No," Cody said, shaking his head, then shrugging. "I don't know, Murray. It's
Nick. He's so . . . moody these days."
"You know, I have noticed a certain--"
"Do you have any idea what's wrong with him? Has he talked to you?"
Murray shook his head. "He hasn't said anything to me, although--"
"Me, either," the blond admitted. "I thought it might be me, you know, being so
fragged by what happened with Janet, but it's more than that."
"Maybe if we just wait, he'll come to us."
"I hope so, Murray. I hate to see him hurt like this -- especially when he
won't let me in." He paced across the salon, then ran a hand over his hair. "I
haven't seen him this skittish since I ran into him after we were both out of
the Army. You don't think it might have something to do with that, do you?
Vietnam, I mean."
Murray considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "He's not showing any
of the classic symptoms of delayed stress syndrome, as far as I can tell. Oh,
maybe to a slight degree, but I really don't think that's it. It started after
we came back from San Francisco," he stated matter-of-factly. "I tend to think
it was connected to the trip." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick sat on the empty beach, watching the waves break on the sand in the
moonlight while a cold wind pulled up goosebumps on his bare arms. He glanced
at his watch -- nearly ten. They're going to be worried about me if I don't get
back soon.
Pressing his hands against his knees, the detective realized he didn't have the
strength to stand. Damn it, Cody, why'd we have to go up there in the first
place? Nothing good's ever happened in that damned city!
Nick took a deep breath. They'd gone to help a friend. And they'd all agreed,
himself included. There was no use blaming Cody for what he was feeling now.
Slumping sideways, Nick ended up on his hands and knees. He watched his tears
fall onto the cold sand before he struggled to his feet and staggered,
shivering, back to the boat. 
                                * * * * * * * 
The lights were off except for the small welcome light in the salon. Nick wiped
the back of his hand across his eyes, then turned that off, too, glad the
darkness would hide any evidence of his tears.
Cat-walking down to the stateroom, he paused at the door, staring at the form
of his partner stretched out on the far bunk. Cody had kicked his covers off.
The detective's skin glowed with a pale gold light, interrupted only by the
dark briefs he wore. The blond hair was tousled, lying at playful angles across
the pillow. Nick's breath caught. He was so damned beautiful sometimes.
Why'd I have to fall in love with you again? he silently demanded of the
sleeping man. Wishing he could walk over, take Cody in his arms, and tell him
how he felt, Nick shook his head. It's not going to happen.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Nick forced himself further into the room, staying
firmly on his side. Stripping out of the too-light clothes, he climbed beneath
the covers, shivering as he warmed up.
Rolling onto his side, Nick turned his back to the tempting figure, closed his
eyes, and willed his mind to silence.
"Nick?"
"Yeah?" he whispered, hoping it would hide the hoarse croak the crying had
reduced his voice to.
"You want to talk?"
"'Bout what?"
"Whatever's bothering you."
"It's nothing."
Cody clamped down on his anger. "I sure as hell don't buy that, Nick. We're
going to have to get this in the open -- whatever it is. Tomorrow, okay?"
Nick tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders and mouthed a silent
"thank you" for that kindness. "Yeah," he mumbled. You don't want to know,
buddy. You don't want to hear what I'm feeling. Believe me. 
                                * * * * * * * 
It was an hour before dawn and Nick was up, standing at the Riptide's stern,
watching the Pacific as it moved restlessly.
 "Nick?"
"Yeah?" he replied, his voice tired and flat.
The detective turned to face the confrontation he knew was inevitable. He was
already defeated; there was no use fighting any longer. Cody would eventually
realize the truth anyway. He might as well tell him now and get it over with.
Cody leaned back against the stairs leading up to the wheelhouse, his arms
folded across his wide chest. "Look, I know I was a pain in the ass after the
trip to San Francisco. . . . Janet and I-- Well. . ." He paused, seeing Nick
visibly flinch at the mention of the city. "What I'm trying to say is, if I
said, or did something after all that-- I guess I just want to apologize,
that's all. In case I did something . . . to hurt you."
Nick's head came up with a snap, a concerned _expression on his face. "You
don't have to apologize, Cody. This has nothing to do with you. It's my
problem, man." Nick turned away, his shoulders dropping like snow-weighted pine
boughs.
The detective's whole demeanor reminded the blond of the P.O.W.'s he had seen
in Vietnam. Moving to stand behind the despondent man, Cody reached out and
placed a reassuring hand on Nick's shoulder. He felt the muscles knot under his
touch and almost pulled his hand away.
"Cody, please," Nick said softly.
Unsure if the comment was a request for him to let go or to help him, Cody
opted for the latter and stepped closer to his partner, sliding his arm around
the man's shoulders. Nick began to tremble, and if it were possible, he looked
worse than before.
"I want to help. Please, don't shut me out, buddy."
Turning to look into the blond's sea-blue eyes, Nick's expression was one of
absolute defeat. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Cody. Never-- Never did I
plan this, I swear it. You've got to believe that."
"You sound like you agreed to knock me off for someone," the blond joked,
hoping it would lighten his partner's mood.
"I might as well have," Ryder whispered, looking away.
Cody's expression hardened. "What do you mean?"
"Look, Cody, I'm gonna leave. Move out."
"Move out?" Anger flared and Cody grabbed Nick's shoulders. "What're you
talking about?"
"I have to."
"Why? Damn it, Nick, you aren't getting off this boat until you tell me what
the hell's going on!"
Nick sighed heavily. "Okay, but when I'm through swear that you'll tell me yes
or no. And no matter which one it is, we don't talk about this again. Deal?"
Cody swallowed hard, knowing that he was very close to losing the best friend
he'd ever had. "Deal," he said softly. "But, yes or no to what, Nick?"
"You'll know when I tell you the whole story." Walking over to the padded bench
seat at the stern, Nick sat down and began to speak, stumbling over the words
at first, but slowly slipping into the memories as they played themselves out
in his mind.
"I was fourteen years old when I ran away from my grandmother's. . . . 
                                * * * * * * * 
Exactly why he'd left still mystified the detective. For nearly two years he'd
lived with the old woman, and he loved her more than anyone in the world.
Nick reasoned that it was anger that drove him to run -- anger at his father
for running out on him three years earlier, and anger at his mother for leaving
him with her mother the day before Christmas a year after that. His mother had
taken the family's advice, leaving the twelve-year-old boy with Nana in Los
Angeles so she could return home to Chicago and have a quiet, private nervous
breakdown over Nick's father.
Nick and his grandmother got along well, but his love for her could not erase
the brewing anger he felt towards his parents. When Nana told Nick his mother
was coming for a visit after eighteen months of no calls, no letters, no
nothing, he bolted, unable to face the woman.
June, 1965, the summer before he started high school. Nick headed for the
beach, tagging along with the older kids when they headed up the coast to
Ventura to surf. A Mexican with a truckload of oranges took him to Santa
Barbara. Two days there with the local beach crowd and Nick was on the move
again, heading further north -- only this time he wasn't alone.
She was one of the early flower children, and it was her long blond hair
braided with wild poppies first attracted him to her. 
                                * * * * * * * 
"I've always been a sucker for blonds," Nick said.
Cody smiled, unsure if his partner was joking or not. 
                                * * * * * * * 
She was one of many firsts for the young man. The first to warn him about
Vietnam (her brother had been killed there earlier that year), the first to
introduce him to the rituals of smoking pot (it made him too lightheaded to
enjoy it), and the first woman he ever made love to. Sunflower was all of
seventeen, and very grown up in the eyes of the pubescent boy. She took him to
San Francisco.
 After three days in the city she disappeared, and Nick was on his own, again.
  Alone in a strange city, with no money, no friends, and no place to stay. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Hanging out in Golden Gate Park required a certain amount of luck. There were
cops to hide from, muggers to outrun, and plenty of crazies to avoid. There
were also interesting groups of young people who came and went. Some danced in
the open grass areas, others sat together and sang while one or two played
guitar accompaniments. Others just sat in silence, their eyes haunted and
distant. They were kind people for the most part, willing to share food, wine,
and other interesting substances.
And there were other kids there, too. Kids Nick competed with to find discarded
half-eaten sandwiches, half-full cans of soda, and bags of cold French fries
with too much ketchup. 
                                * * * * * * * 
"My luck ran pretty good for about a month," Nick explained.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Cody asked, amazed that this part
of his best friend's life had remained hidden for so long.
"You'll understand soon enough."
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick watched a young couple dump the remains of their picnic lunch into one of
 the park garbage cans. It was still early for the boy to leave his hideout in
  the thick stand of eucalyptus trees, but the growl issuing from his stomach
              refused to be silenced. He'd just have to risk it.
It was dangerous to spend too much time out and about during the daylight
hours. The police were apt to stop him and ask why he wasn't in school, or
where his parents lived. He snorted to himself. Parents. What a joke.
His stomach growled again, knowing as well as he did that there was fried
chicken waiting in the waded up ball of aluminum foil that sparkled in the mesh
can, and he was going to get it -- one way or another.
Nick emerged from his hide-out, walked toward the can, then sprinted the last
few yards and scooped out the prize. Tucking it under his arm like a football,
Nick picked up speed again until he reached a shaded, secluded spot where he
stopped to open the foil. Before he could inspect the spoils, another boy,
perhaps two years older, grabbed it out of his hands.
Nick launched into an immediate attack, but two policemen, emerging along the
trail, interrupted the boys. The older, blond boy dropped the chicken. Working
with Nick in some sort of panic-induced synergy, the two managed to escape.
Running into the trees, dodging debris and an occasional body passed out on the
rough ground, the boys crossed a large portion of the park. When they finally
stopped Nick turned on the blond. "Damn you! That was my food!"
"Not if you can't hold onto it, kid."
Nick's anger flared and he charged. The pair ended up on the ground, Ryder
pummeling the older boy.
"Okay, okay, stop!" the blond cried out. "I'll show you how to get some money
for food!"
Nick stopped hitting the blond, but remained seated on his thighs. "Yeah?"
"Yeah! You can get all the damned chicken you want!"
"How?" Nick asked suspiciously.
The blond studied the innocent-looking boy. The dark hair, the bright blue
eyes, and the pouting lips made him very handsome. "You ever do it with a girl,
kid?"
"I ain't a kid," Nick corrected, roughly poking the boy's chest with his
finger. "Why?"
"Just tell me, yes or no?"
"Yeah, I done it. What about it? You're gonna tell me how to get money for some
food."
"Did you like it?"
"Like what?"
"Makin' out with a girl!"
"It was okay," Nick said impatiently, hoping the older boy would miss the blush
he felt burning on his cheeks.
"Okay? That's all?"
"What's your point?!"
"Well, if you liked it, I know how you can make some money."
"How?"
"Doin' it."
"What?"
"Makin' it with women!" the boy yelled in exasperation. "Man, you're slow!"
"But--"
"Look, you want to spend all your time diggin' through garbage cans?"
"Hey, you were doin' it, too!"
"Just because I was hungry, and I haven't been to see Sweeny in a while."
"Who's Sweeny?"
"A guy. He's real cool, you know? See, he knows these older chicks who like
guys like us. He can tell you where to meet one, and then you do it. And
afterwards they usually feed you, kinda mother ya for a little while, and then
they pay you. And you take the money back to Sweeny and he gives you ten
bucks."
The thought of ten dollars chased the remaining concerns Nick had about the
story away. After all, it had been fun making it with Sunflower, or whatever
her name really was. And with that kind of money he could buy food for a couple
of days . . . maybe even get a milkshake.
"This Sweeny got a place for a guy to shower?"
"Yeah, he'll tell you where you can go. He'll give you some better clothes,
too. You gotta look just right when you go. You gonna get off me?"
"You gonna take me t' see this Sweeny guy?"
"I'll take you, if you give me two dollars from the ten you get."
Nick scowled at the boy. "Why? Maybe I should just beat you up some more."
The boy's hands came up to protect his face and yelled, "'Cause I know how to
find Sweeny and you don't!"
Nick considered that. "Okay," he agreed. "But just this one time. After that
you get your own money."
"I will. I like makin' out. My name's Toby." 
                                * * * * * * * 
"I made nearly a hundred dollars over the next two months."
Cody shook his head. "That's a tough life for a kid on the streets. I'm sorry,
Nick."
"I found an old Italian man who rented me a small shack at the back of his
townhouse for twenty dollars a month and an occasional trip to the corner
market to pick up his cheese, bread, and wine." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Sweeny turned out to be an ex-merchant marine who'd left the service after
being hamstrung by an irate native on some South Pacific island who resented
the fact that Sweeny had led his daughter astray. He was a careful pimp, never
meeting the boys in the same place to pick up the money the women paid them. He
checked out each boy personally and he didn't tolerate slip-ups.
Nick followed Sweeny's instructions to the letter, never giving the man a
reason to be angry with him. Toby, the blond from the park, spent three days in
the hospital after trying to make off with one of the payments, and Nick
decided it wasn't worth the risk to cross the man. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Scanning the street for patrol cars, Nick negotiated the light Sunday morning
traffic to reach the grey sedan that pulled up at the corner. Slipping into the
passenger seat, Nick handed the sealed envelope to Sweeny, who lounged in the
backseat. He opened the package and riffled through the contents, then pulled
out a ten and handed it back to the boy.
"Prompt and unopened, just like always, Nicky."
"Yes, sir," he said, shoving the bill into the front pocket of his jeans.
The car pulled away from the curb, startling the boy. He'd always been
dismissed after receiving his money. "Where are we goin'?" he asked the man.
"Nicky, how long have you been working for me now?" Sweeny asked him.
"Two months," the boy answered. "Where are we goin'?"
"For a drive, kid, relax. I wanted a chance to talk to you, get to know you a
little better. How old are you, Nicky?"
"Fourteen," Nick told him, finding no reason to lie.
"Fourteen," Sweeny repeated appreciatively. "Nicky, how'd you like to make
twenty-five bucks instead of ten?"
"What do I have to do?"
"Just like always, kiddo, have a little fun."
"That's it?"
"That's all, Nicky. You see, an old friend of mine is in town for tonight and
would like a little company. I know you'll fit the bill. What do you say?"
"I guess so. Do I have to dress up or anything?"
"No, not really. Why don't you wear the clothes Nancy gave you last week, that
oughta be fine." Sweeny fumbled in his shirt pocket for a slip of paper that he
handed to the boy. "That's the address. You be there at eight tonight, and
there'll be twenty-five for you tomorrow."
Nick accepted the piece of paper and checked the address. It was a hotel close
to downtown -- fancy. "Okay."
"Fine. And don't be late, Nicky. My friend doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"I won't be late," he promised.
Sweeny nodded. The driver pulled the car over to the curb and Nick climbed out.
"You're a good kid, Nicky. If tonight goes well, we'll have to increase your
wages."
Nick watched the car drive away, then checked the watch his grandmother had
given him for graduation from Junior High. He felt a stab of homesickness. It
was only nine in the morning. He sighed. Nana would be working in the small
flower garden along the front of the house.
What am I gonna do all day? he wondered. Maybe I'll go to the wharf. . . . 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick looked up at the multi-story hotel. He was nervous. This was no bored
housewife he was going to see tonight. Smoothing his shirt nervously, Nick took
a deep breath and entered the lobby. One of the bellboys blew a kiss his
direction, but Nick ignored him, walking directly to the elevators.
Absolutely sure that everyone in the lobby knew why he was there, he willed
himself not to sweat as he took a car up to the top floor and exited. There
were only two doors with numbers on them. Nick checked the note again and
walked over to the one marked 1501. He knocked.
No one answered.
Nick knocked again and a muffled voice called for him to come in.
Inside, the room caught Nick by surprise. It was bigger than the house his
grandmother lived in, bigger even than the houses of his aunts and uncles in
Chicago. It was also tastefully decorated, comfortable.
Nick walked into the living room before he called, "Hello?"
He could hear noises coming from behind a closed door across the room. Walking
over to it, he knocked again. The same voice invited him in.
"You're weird, lady," the teen said softly as he opened the door and entered.
The bedroom was nearly as large as the living room, complete with a fireplace,
couch, coffee table and television set, and two large sliding glass doors that
opened on a view of the city and the bay. "Wow," Nick breathed.
"You like it?" asked a voice from behind him.
Nick turned. "Ugh, excuse me. I think I have the wrong place. I'm really sorry-
-"
"Sweeny sent you, didn't he?"
Nick hesitated a moment, then nodded.
"Well, then, you're in the right place." A middle-aged man walked up to Nick,
his eyes taking in every detail. "You're more beautiful than Sweeny promised."
Nick blushed, confused. Where was the lady friend Sweeny had told him about?
Looking around the bedroom, there was no sign of her. Nick jumped slightly when
the man's hand came down lightly on his shoulder.
He looked at the man again, only to find hungry brown eyes staring back. For an
older man, he was still handsome and obviously cultured -- that made the boy
nervous.
The man's hand moved to Nick's neck, slipping behind so he could cup the back
of the boy's head. The man leaned down and lightly brushed Nick's lips.
Nick stepped back, frightened. Sweeny's "friend" was this man. Sweeny had sent
him to see a man!
"What's wrong? Didn't Sweeny tell you about me?"
"N-no," Nick stuttered, looking for another escape.
The man chuckled softly. "Well, that's all right. I promise, I won't hurt you.
You'll enjoy this, I promise."
The boy watched as the man stepped closer to him again, this time running his
hands over Nick's shirt-covered chest.
"I could never hurt something as beautiful as you." One hand dropped down to
caress the boy's flaccid cock through his pants. "Why don't you come over here
to the bed and I'll get you out of those clothes, hmm?" the man asked, gently
guiding him toward the large king-sized brass bed.
"Huh, I-I don't know. . ."
"I'm sure you'll be just fine," the man said, slowly unbuttoning Nick's shirt.
The boy's skin burned wherever the man touched him, his long fingers moving
softly over Nick's collarbones, teasing at young nipples, then falling to
Nick's belt buckle. Opening the belt, the pant zipper was next, the man finally
pulling the cloth down over Nick's underwear.
Too afraid to run, Nick stood like a statue, watching what was happening to him
from a great distance. When the man finished undressing him, he shed the thick
terry bathrobe he was wearing.
The sight of the man's cock, swollen with need, caught the boy's attention and
he continued to stare at it as the man slowly pressed him back onto the bed,
then reached for Nick's penis, touching him in places no one ever had. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick slid into the grey sedan and quickly handed the envelope back to Sweeny
without looking at the man.
Sweeny chuckled. "Guess I forgot to tell you my friend was--"
"A fag!" Nick finished.
"Yes, a fag," Sweeny growled, reaching forward to grab a handful of Nick's hair
and jerking him back against the seat. Nick arched his back against the pain
and bit his lip to keep from crying out.
Sweeny shoved the boy forward with a grunt. Digging into the envelope he
removed twenty-five dollars, crumpled it up and tossed it into the front seat.
"There, that oughtta help you get over it," he said. "Pull over."
The driver eased up alongside the curb and Nick grabbed the bills up before
scrambling from the car and running away. As he ran he could hear Sweeny's
laughter echoing after him. 
                                * * * * * * * 
"Hey, Nick!"
The dark-haired teen finished the last bite of his hotdog as he turned to find
Toby trotting up to join him. "Hey, man, where you been? Sweeny's been lookin'
all over for you. Boy, are you in big trouble."
"Why's he looking for me?"
"You got customers askin' 'bout you. He likes to keep the customers happy, you
know."
"Yeah, I know."
Toby fished some money out of his pocket and bought himself a hotdog, eating it
as he and Nick walked along the Embaradaro. "So, are you gonna go see him?"
"Who?" Nick asked.
"Sweeny!"
"No."
The blond boy cocked his head to one side. "Man, you better. If you don't, and
he has to come find you, he'll put you in the hospital, too."
"I'm not workin' for him anymore," Nick snapped.
"What's wrong with you?" Toby asked, shoving the last bite in his mouth. "I bet
I know! Sweeny sent you on a mule run, didn't he?"
"A what?"
"A mule run," Toby repeated. "Jeeze, you still don't know nothin'! He sent you
to do a guy, right?"
Nick's face burned bright red.
"See! Look it ain't no big deal. We all gotta do it once in a while. What's the
big deal? Did he make you blow him? Did he fu--"
"Shut up!" Nick fought back the urge to deck the kid where he stood, but
instead he turned and stalked away.
Toby's voice echoed after him. "When you get hungry you'll go back! You'd think
you're a saint or somethin'?" 
                                * * * * * * * 
"I didn't go back, but Sweeny did find me. I was walking back with a bag of
groceries for Mr. Matellie when the driver stepped out of an alley and grabbed
me."
"Nick, you sure you want to go through all this?"
"I have to, Cody."
"Okay," he replied softly. "I'm listening, buddy." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick fought, but he was no match for the larger man who tossed him into the
back of the car where Sweeny waited with a small, short-barreled gun. "Look,
you little punk, no one in my operation quits until I say so. You made me look
bad to my people, takin' off like that. I got customers who expected you."
"I was busy," Nick replied, hoping it sounded tougher than he felt.
"Yeah? Well, you're gonna be busy -- real busy -- the next few days, earning
back all the money you cost me. And when it's paid back, I'm gonna have Karl
here teach you a lesson about loyalty."
Nick glared at the man but remained silent.
"You're gonna pay me back, boy, and you wanna know how? I got other friends,
kid. Friends who are just gonna love you." 
                                * * * * * * * 
"Nick, are you okay?" Cody asked softly when his partner's voice caught.
"You have to know the whole thing," the dark-haired man choked. He took a deep
breath. "You have to make the choice."
"I still don't know why choice you're talking about."
"Hear me out," Nick pleaded, then forced himself to go on. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick couldn't remember how he managed to get away from the last of Sweeny's
"friends." He just remembered being taken to a house, a large house outside of
the city. The man waiting for him was cruel, beating the boy with a leather
belt and hurting him in other ways he never thought possible.
Nick had grown used to the ordeals he'd suffered through, at times he'd even
enjoyed being with the men, but this time he was pushed too far.
When the man finally finished and rolled off Nick's back the boy bolted for an
open window, grabbing his clothes off the dresser as he lunged out. Falling
onto a thick lawn, Nick scrambled to his feet and ran. Rounding a corner of the
large yard, he pulled on his pants and kept running, the man's laughter the
only thing following him.
It was well after dark before the teen stopped, his feet bruised, cut, and
bleeding. The pants and t-shirt were insufficient for the unseasonably cool
August night, and he hurt, all over. Finding a spot in the bushes that grew
along the highway, Nick settled in to rest.
Sometime later the sound of a truck pulling off the road woke the sleeping
teen. Nick watched as the driver walked over to the cover of the trees to
relieve himself. Easing from his nest, Nick ran to the back of the truck and
climbed up, inserting himself under the tarp that covered bales of hay stacked
on the flatbed. Sweet-smelling, the alfalfa poked his chest through the shirt,
making him itch. Before he was settled, the truck pulled back on the highway.
Several hours later the truck rolled to another stop. Sleeping, Nick didn't
realize they had stopped until the driver's hand roughly grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey, whatcha doing back here?" he man asked angrily.
Nick jerked lose and jumped without thinking, the shock to his feet nearly
stopping him, but he managed to limp off while the trucker yelled obscenities
after him.
The rest of the day he slept on the beach, curled up in a nest of piled
driftwood covered with an old oil-tarp. 
                                * * * * * * * 
He was in Carpinteria, hungry and feeling very much like the fifteen-year-old
runaway he was. Limping along Highway 1 he stuck out his thumb for the passing
cars, but no one wanted to stop for the dirty, barefoot kid.
Hearing another car approaching, Nick didn't even bother to look, just stuck
out his thumb and kept walking, sure that they'd pass him by like all the rest.
But the car's horn sounded, stopping him.
"You need a ride?" a handsome blond in bathing trunks and a white t-shirt
asked.
The smile was open and friendly, making the younger boy want to cry. Nick
nodded. "Where you goin'?" he croaked out.
"Ventura," was the enthusiastic reply.
"I'm going to LA."
"Come on, then, you can ride back here with us."
Nick limped back to the back of the pick-up truck and climbed in. The other
three young men riding in the back gave their companion a questioning look when
they got a good whiff of Nick, but the blond ignored them.
Taking a seat against the tailgate of the pickup, Nick drew up his knees and
smiled thinly at the blond, who was watching him with a critical eye.
"You must've been in a hell of a fight."
"Yeah," was all Nick said, nearly mesmerized by the young man. He was broad
shouldered and deeply tanned. And he had a smile that could stop a wave.
"You okay?" his savior asked as the truck rumbled back onto the highway.
"I'm fine," Nick said, forcing himself to look away. He wasn't feeling too
steady, and the bouncing of the truck added to the growing vertigo.
"You want something to drink?"
Nick's face paled further, his stomach threatening to embarrass him. "You got
some water?"
"No, but we've got some soda on ice, you want one?"
The boy nodded, leaning forward to accept the gift. The truck lurched, sending
the dark-haired boy face forward into the bed of the truck. He fainted. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick woke to find the blond holding him, his shoulder tucked snugly against the
older boy's chest. The blond dipped his T-shirt into the cold ice water and
wiped Nick's face.
Ryder's first thought was how good it felt to have the strong tanned arms
around him, and the soft golden hair tickling his cheek. He hadn't felt so safe
in three months. The second thought was panic, followed by a full-fledged
retreat. This wasn't one of Sweeny's friends!
"Hey, easy," the blond soothed. "You passed out. How long has it been since
you've had something to eat?"
Nick shrugged, his body tingling where it had touched the older boy. "I'm
okay," he said, looking around. The truck was parked at the shore. "I'm just a
little hungry, I guess."
The other boys were gone, carrying their equipment out to a spot midway on the
beach. "This Ventura?"
"Yep," the blond said. "Look, you said you wanted to go to LA?"
"So?"
"Well, I thought I could drive you down while the rest of these guys wear
themselves out here."
"Why?" Nick asked suspiciously.
"Because I don't think you're going to make it on those two flat tires," he
said, pointing to Nick's swollen feet.
"Don't look flat to me," he mumbled.
The blond laughed. "Guess not. Anyway, you want a lift or not?"
"Okay, but I don't got nothing to pay you with."
"That's okay." He jumped down. "Come on, you might as well ride up here with
me." 
                                * * * * * * * 
"There," Nick said, pointing at his grandmother's house. "You can drop me off
here."
"You sure you're going to be all right?"
"Yeah," Nick said, easing himself out of the cab of the pick-up. "Thanks, man.
I mean it." He stuck out his hand and the older boy took it.
"Glad I could help. Take care of yourself. If you get back up to Ventura, look
me up. My name's Cody Allen. You can usually find me at the Surf Shack." 
                                * * * * * * * 
"I remember," Cody whispered. "God . . . I can't believe I never realized that
was you."
"I wasn't in very good shape at the time. Not to mention the fact that it
happened twenty years ago."
Cody moved closer to his partner. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"You'll see." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick was home, his grandmother more happy than angry that he was back, and his
mother nowhere to be found -- a change of plans had kept her in Chicago. That
September Nick started school at Lincoln High School, joined a local street
gang, met Deke in chemistry class, left the gang for the football team his
sophomore year, and put the summer of 1965 behind him.
The next time he saw Cody Allen was in the jungles of Vietnam. They were both
assigned to Major Doug "Pitbull" Johnson's Special Operations Unit.
The war was a crazy time and Ryder wasn't surprised that the blond Lieutenant
didn't recognize him as the beat-up kid he had picked up along Highway 1 five
years earlier. And Nick felt no need to remind him, either. There was no reason
to open himself up to any more emotional wounds, compliments of Southeast Asia.
The teenaged Allen had grown into a handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered and
narrow-hipped, sharp features, he was striking. The light blue eyes were still
like the sky over the ocean, but they held the shadows brought by time and the
loss of innocence. Nick knew he was attracted to the man, so it was easier to
pretend they'd never met, that he'd never lain in those arms, never wanted to
kiss those lips.
In Vietnam Ryder taught himself how to hide behind thick walls of distance -
- suppressing feelings, nightmares, and insecurities in order to survive the
ever-present insanity and death. At the end of his second tour he purposefully
lost track of Allen and the rest of the men from his unit.
Uncle Sam, however, had other plans, bringing the two men back together again
when they both ended up stationed together at Fort Polk as MPs. While in
Alabama they started the friendship that led to the Riptide Detective Agency.
But Ryder still held back, giving to match the blond, but never surpassing him.
Then, just as Nick and Cody were starting to get more serious about their
friendship, Janet reentered Allen's life.
They were on furlough in Washington D.C. Nick knew immediately that Cody loved
the woman, but he was hard pressed to understand why since all they did when
they were together was fight. It bothered him, more than he could explain, even
to himself. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Rather than face his own feelings, Nick pulled back from Cody, staying in the
background and justifying the action by claiming that his friendship with Cody
was still too new to risk the accusation of meddling. But Janet saw through
Nick. Somehow she knew the truth about him even while he was blind to it
himself.
He could still remember the one time he and Janet had met alone in Washington.
"Cody's not like you," she accused. "So why don't you get out of the way so I
can try and rebuild our lives?"
"You aren't willing to do what's best for him."
"Oh, and I suppose you are?" she asked derisively. "Were you his lover in
Vietnam?"
Nick was taken aback by her bluntness. No! he screamed in silent defense. I
wanted to be, but I wasn't. I wasn't with anyone.
"I was his friend," Nick half-growled. "I'm still his friend. Nothing more."
"You know we love each other, Nick. Get out of my way, for Cody."
"Janet, I'm not in your way. How can I be?"
"Yes, oh, yes you are. Cody has some warped ideas of loyalty when it comes to
you. He'll throw this away for you and the Army. I know you love him, but he's
not like you. Help him be happy, Nick. Give him to me."
"He's not mine to give, Janet. I don't know what you think you know about me,
but you're wrong. I'm sorry. All I want is for Cody to he happy," Nick said,
turning to leave.
"I'm going to take him away from you, Nick. Before it's too late. He'll accept
love where it's offered. That's his way. I love him, Nick. I really do and I
want him back, but you won't give him up because you won't even admit how you
feel. But I will! Goddamn you!"
"Then be with him!"
She paused. "How can I when you're always there? You're in his head, Nick. I'm
only in his bed. Why do I have to keep choosing? Why can't it all work out?"
Nick shook his head. "I don't know, Janet. Maybe you don't know yourself any
better than I do." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick rubbed his aching forehead. Janet was right. She did eventually take Cody
away. He started talking about settling down, leaving the Army. Nick just
listened, refusing to offer an opinion. But then her job called and Janet had
to make a choice. The job came first, and Nick spent the next six months
helping Cody pick up the pieces.
"Nick, I don't think I would have made it through that time if you hadn't been
there," Cody said quietly. "I really don't."
"Yeah, you would have. You're stronger than you think. Always have been."
"I still don't know what decision I have to make, Nick."
"Let me finish." 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick made his decision in Washington while he watched Cody trying to bury the
pain of loss under a good drunk. Taking all the feelings he had for the blond,
he carefully sifted through them for what he felt was acceptable and what was
not, burying the unacceptable elements beneath the horrors of the months he
spent in San Francisco and Vietnam. The others he let grow, until the close
friendship they now shared developed.
Occasionally he was unable to stop the others from sneaking out, but thus far
he'd managed to cover them up as healthy male competition, or, when necessary,
petty jealousy and womanizing.
But now?
Now, somehow, being back in San Francisco had released the demons from the
summer of 1965, and they were free to destroy the wall hiding Nick's feeling
for Cody, eroding the relationship he had so carefully built over the years.
There was nothing to do but wait for the truth to come out, and then it would
all be over. He would be alone once again.
At least I'll have the memories, Nick tried to console himself.
Yeah, that'll be a helluva consolation. Memories. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Ryder stood, staring out at the harbor and let the words fall out in a hoarse
whisper. "I fell in love with you. . . . Again."
Cody sat in a confused silence. He thought he was prepared for anything Nick
might come up with, but this one caught him off guard. He kicked himself
mentally. I'm blind! Cody thought. The whole story, it was all to tell me-
- Jesus.
"I don't expect you to feel anything," Nick added hastily. "I don't expect
anything. I hope it'll just go back to the way it was, but right now I'm having
trouble dealing with it, and I'm taking it out on you and Murray. I'm sorry. .
. . I just can't help it."
"You don't have to apologize for caring about someone, Nick."
"Not caring -- loving."
"Nick," Cody said, the seriousness of his tone enough to turn Ryder around.
Their eyes met and he asked, "Are you gay?"
"No," was Nick's immediate reply. "I mean, I like women, I like being with
them, you know?"
Cody nodded.
"It's just that I also. . ." He trailed off lamely.
"What?"
"I won't lie and say I hated it every time I was with another man, but it
wasn't the same. It's different with women. . . . I don't know . . . I just
never felt toward a man like I have with a few women . . . I have feelings for
you."
"Feelings? You mean you love me?"
"Yes."
"I love you, too."
"I know, but that's not what I mean."
"Then tell me what you mean, Nick. Exactly. Make me understand."
Ryder momentarily considered throwing himself overboard, but the thought passed
as quickly as it came. "When I thought I-- We, might lose you, the feelings
sort of . . . exploded. . ." He trailed off again, turning away. "Damn it,
Cody, I want to be with you. I want to love you, make love to you, be loved by
you. I don't care that you're a man, I just-- I just love you."
Cody listened, the words frightening and exciting him at the same time. It
wasn't as through he had never thought about what it might be like to have sex
with another man. He had spent his share of afternoons with his pubescent
cohorts, talking, looking, and touching. And there had been times when he and a
close friend would masturbate together, occasionally helping each other come
with their hands or their mouths. It was a time of experimentation and
innocence. When he grew older Cody never seriously considered choosing to have
sex with a man. It wasn't part of his day-to-day life, revolving as it did in
those days around getting his next date.
Why? he asked himself, knowing the answer would be critical. Because I'm
straight and won't ever try anything different?
No. I tried plenty of stuff as a teen and enjoyed all of it. Boys, girls, it
didn't really matter. It just felt good.

Because I find the possibility disgusting?
No. Definitely not, especially not with Nick. It's . . . intriguing. He's a
damned good looking man, and I know how he feels about me.
Because I could never conceive of really doing it, going all the way with a
strange man. And everyone I've known has been straight as far as I know.
Yeah, partly.

Because I've never met the right man. I've never known anyone but women who
loved me enough to want me like that--that I wanted like that. Until now. . .

But what really matters? The sex of the person I make love to, or the feelings
they-- I have?
Love matters. I want to feel loved, needed, desired, fulfilled. I need that.
That's what I keep looking for in the women I meet. That someone who'll make me
feel wanted, needed. Someone who'll give me what I give them. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick watched the internal dialogue rolling across Cody's face, wondering what
was being said. A chill of fear washed over him. I don't want this to end what
we have, but I can't stand this any more. . .
"Nick, let's go inside, okay?"

Great. He doesn't want anyone to overhear this choice piece of news. Nick
Ryder's gay, and he just asked me to go to bed with him. Man, why did I ever
open my big mouth?
"Yeah, sure," he muttered.
They settled in the salon, Nick pressed back into the corner of the cushioned
seat, hiding behind the table.
Cody busied himself making fresh coffee, while he tried to make the decision
Nick had asked for.
When the coffee finished dripping, Cody poured two cups full, then joined Nick
at the table.
"Thanks," Nick said miserably.
"Huh, Nick, look, this took me a little by surprise."
"I know. Like I said, I'm sorry."
"I have to say, I've been curious about it. I mean, I've wondered, you know,
what it'd be like."
Nick nodded, but stared at the steaming cup.
"I never thought a man would-- I mean, I never thought a man I cared about
would--"
"Hi, guys!" Murray said, pushing the salon door open.
"Huh, hi, Murray," Cody said, shaking his head and trying to look normal.
The thin detective paused. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No, it's okay," Nick replied, sliding off the bench like he was escaping his
own execution. "Look, I think I'll go sack out for an hour or so. I've got a
helluva headache."
Murray watched the man disappear before he said to Cody, "I have to pick up a
few things, then I'm going to run over to Oliver's. He's having a problem with
one of his computers. I ran into him just now at the electronics supply store
and we started talking about what the machine was doing and--"
"You're going to go take care of it for him," Cody finished.
"Huh, yes. Yes, I am," Murray said, then laughed. "I guess I am just going to
go over there and work some old Bozinsky magic--"
"Look, I hope you and Oliver have a great time," the blond said, prompting his
partner to go gather what he needed.
Murray returned with a doctor's black bag stuffed to overflowing with
electronics parts and tools, and Cody escorted him off the boat, calling out as
he headed up to the pier, "Make sure he takes you to dinner to say thanks."
Murray's head bobbed that he'd heard.
The blond turned and headed back to the boat. There was still something to be
decided. 
                                * * * * * * * 
Nick lay stretched out along the narrow bunk, one arm crooked over his eyes.
His bare chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, and Cody paused, thinking
that the man was asleep until a small sniffle told him otherwise.
"Murray's gone for a while," he said quietly. "He going over to fix a friend's
sick computer."
A slight smile lifted and fell on Nick's lips.
"I guess we have a little time alone."
"How'd I let this happen, Cody?" Nick asked, keeping his eyes covered so he
wouldn't have to see the revulsion on his best friend's face.
"Hey, I'm a lovable guy."
Nick pulled his arm down. "That's not what I meant."
"I know, buddy," Cody said, sitting down on the edge of Nick's bed. The tanned
body pressed back against the wall.
Reaching out, Cody gently gripped Nick's shoulder, then let his hand drift
along the top of the man's muscle, stopping at his neck. He touched Nick's
face.
"Cody, please," Nick whispered.
"Please what? I made my decision, Nick."
"Then stop, you don't have to--"
Cody chuckled. "Nick, I decided, yes."
The blue eyes went wide. It was impossible, he couldn't have heard what he did,
but the hand continued moving, touching Nick's cheek, his collar bone, the
hollow of his throat.
Ryder groaned and closed his eyes, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Cody looked down at the man who had been his best friend since Vietnam. Nick
knew him better than anyone alive, had saved his life, had been there when he
needed him, had made him laugh, cry, angry, glad.
Nick was his partner, his best friend, and the brother he'd always wanted.
Nick was the one person Cody knew he could trust, completely and absolutely.
He loved this man.
But, was he -- could he -- fall in love with him?
The blond bent forward, his lips lightly brushing Nick's.
The blue eyes opened, locking on their counterparts beneath sun-bleached blond
hair. Nick pushed himself up to a seated position. Reaching out, he traced a
shaky finger along the blond's jaw line, then leaned in.
Their kiss began gently, each hesitant and unsure. Nick was stiffer, more
frightened. Cody took the lead, reaching up to cup the back of Nick's head,
relaxing into the sensations that were new and exciting. He felt like he was on
a first date, but it also felt right. . . .
The blond pressed harder and felt Nick's lips part under the assault. Cody ran
the tip of his tongue along the soft skin, slipping it inside where it parried
with Nick's. The dark-haired detective groaned as his partner's other hand came
up to rest lightly on his chest, then slid along the ribs, drawing Ryder into a
tight embrace.
They parted, Cody collecting Nick into a tight hug, holding him as he cried.
Nick finally raised his arms, encircling the blond in an equally tight embrace.
"Cody, please, don't do this if you don't mean it. Please. It's okay. We can
just stop now. . . ."
"Nick, love between two people isn't wrong. Man and woman, man and man, woman
and woman, what difference does it really make? Two people love each other,
they want to share everything, including pleasure. They get and give pleasure
from each other. Sometimes that's not sexual, like we were. But it can be. I
mean, why can't it be?"
"Cody, I'd die before I destroyed what we have. You're the most important
person in the world to me. You're my best friend, man. My partner."
"I know."
"I want to make you happy. Be there, you know?" Nick felt Cody's head nod. "I
want to make you feel good."
"I know. I understand." Cody pulled back so he could look at Nick. "I'll tell
you, though. I'm a little scared. You know sex changes relationships, and this
is sort of new. I mean-- Oh, hell . . . make love to me, Nick. Please?"
The dark-haired man leaned back and watched as Cody stripped out of his blue
and white striped polo shirt, tossing it onto his own bunk. Nick reached out,
letting his fingertips run along the top of the blond's shoulder, dipping down
the arms and back up again. Goosebumps marked his path.
Taking Cody's face in his hands, Nick leaned forward and lightly brushed the
waiting lips. He paused, then repeated the move, only harder. The mustache was
a new sensation, but rather enjoyable. Cody's lips parted slightly and the tips
of their tongues timidly explored the other's. Nick moaned quietly, as if he
was afraid to let Cody know how much he wanted him. And that was exactly the
case.
Cody reached out, drawing his partner closer, letting them both ride out the
white-water flow of emotions. The timidity began to fall away, each man's
passion growing stronger. The kiss became a subtle game of dominance, both men
ebbing and flowing back and forth between aggressor and passive receiver.
Nick drew them over so they lay sprawled along the narrow bunk, their bodies
pressed firmly against each other. The heat emanating from Cody's groin
exciting him further.
The blond came up for air first. Gulping a lungful, his hands roamed over
Nick's chest, fingers trembling from anticipation. "Oh, jeeze," he managed in a
half-secured breath when Nick reached out and ran a hand along the top of his
thigh. The hand paused, then moved over a hip and across the top of the
waistband of the shorts Cody wore, finally coming to rest on his captured,
pulsing cock. He pressed his sex against Nick's hand.
"You're sure?" Nick asked in a thick whisper.
"Would you please stop asking me and do something?"
Ryder chuckled. It was a deep, bubbling sound that excited the blond even more
and he moved against the man's hand.
Nick reached up and pulled the briefs off his partner's hips, freeing the
erection. Cody reached out and did likewise for his partner.
With several swift moves the two men were free of their clothes and lying side
by side, touching, exploring, seducing and giving in to the seduction of the
other.
Reaching out, Cody took Nick's hardness in his hand, hefting the length and
gaining a familiarity that he had only known privately before. "Gives a whole
new meaning to the saying, 'big guy,'" he chuckled.
Nick blushed, snuggling his face into the hollow of the blond's shoulder and
kissing the exposed neck. "Feels good," he mumbled. "Better than you'll ever
know."
The kissing traveled downward, over collarbones and chest and back up to the
shoulders. Cody moaned, controlling the pace of the brunet's kisses and short
licks by the tempo he set, rubbing along the man's shaft.
The arrangement shifted, reversing the positions before either man realized it
had happened, and Nick set a slower, more relaxed pace, wanting the sensations
that rose and fell in him to continue for as long as possible. Reaching past
the demanding erection, Ryder gently cupped Cody's balls, kneading them gently.
Cody moaned in reply, his hips circling in small gyrations. As Nick continued
to work, he trembled, goosebumps rising on his skin. Closing his eyes, he
groaned low, giving in to a new pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him with
its intensity.
Pressing Cody down onto the bunk, Nick shifted to the edge of the bed and set
to work with a determined but gentle seduction. He was in control now, his
partner having given up any pretense of matching the dark-haired man as the
active member of their coupling. The absolute vulnerability Cody permitted Nick
to see moved the detective more than he ever could have imagined and he repaid
that openness by wrapping it in as much pleasure as he could give his lover.
Both men knew they were rapidly approaching the end of their endurance. Sensing
the blond's impending climax, Nick let his kisses trail lower, stopping briefly
at nipples and hips before he captured the throbbing head in his mouth,
dragging a startled gasp, followed by a low feral moan from the blond.
Nibbling, pulling and licking along the shaft, Nick knew he was only moments
away from living a fantasy that had haunted him since 1965. That fantasy was
made complete when he felt Cody reach out and take his own aching cock,
stroking it in time with Nick's bobbing head.
Their nearly frantic climax shook through the two men. Nick drank in the spent
semen, surprised it the slightly sweet taste while he came on his partner's
bare hip. They held on to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure until
they ebbed into a calm satisfaction.
Nick planted a last kiss on the softening cock, watching as it jumped in reply,
then shifted onto the bed next to the blond. It was a tight fit, but they
managed it when Cody reached out and gathered the brunet into his arms. Nick
responded willingly, moving to fit his body along Cody's, holding him as well.
After a moment the blond felt the warm string of a tear as it fell on his
shoulder.
"Nick?"
Ryder made no reply beyond gentle fingers that traced over the tanned skin or
smoothed a slightly curled tip of the gold hair at the back of Cody's neck.
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm sorry," Nick said hoarsely.
With a sudden rush Cody felt very inadequate. Had he given in only to fail in
Nick's eyes? After all, Nick had done for more for him than he had for Nick.
Had Nick expected more? Cody hugged the man to him tighter. Several more tears
rolled over his shoulder, tracing down his chest.
"Nick, please, I'm sorry. It'll get better. I-- I--"
"Wha--?" Nick pulled back slightly. The moisture-filled eyes locked on Cody's -
- ocean and sky meeting on a clear sunny afternoon.
"Nick, I'll learn. I'm sorry it wasn't--"
A smile broke across Nick's face. "Cody, I know it's stupid, but I. . ." He
trailed off, the tears falling over his cheeks.
"What? Tell me, Nick."
"I just thought this was impossible. It was a dream, and now . . . Now it's
real. It feels so good it hurts."
The blond smiled, then laughed.
"See, I told you it was stupid," Nick said, reaching around the blond to wipe
at his eyes.
"No. No, it's not, Nick. I know what you mean. It might not have been a dream
that I've had for a long time, but it was like a dream. I've never felt like
that with anyone."
"Me either," Ryder whispered.
"What now?"
The brunet stiffened slightly. No, please, Cody. Don't give me this and then
take it all away. Please. I don't think I could live with that. "What do you
mean?" he asked in a strained whisper.
"Well, I'd like some time to think this over."
"Okay," Nick agreed immediately, willing to do anything if it meant saving what
he'd finally found.
"I think we should make sure this is right for us."
Nick nodded, to afraid to say anything. He wanted to shout that this was very
right for him, that it was what he'd waited a lifetime for. He finally had
someone he could share himself with, entirely.
"I think we should date women if we want to, okay?"
Nick nodded again.
"And I think we should definitely explore this some more," Cody concluded,
leaning forward to nestle into Nick's chest. "A whole lot more."
"What about Murray?" Nick whispered.
"Let's not say anything until we make a decision."
"Okay," Nick agreed. But I've already made my decision, Cody. I love you. I'm
not very good at trying to deal with more than one relationship at a time, and
you're it. I've known that for a long, long time. You do what you have to, and
I'll just wait.
"It was good?" the blond asked sleepily.
"Yes," Nick said, still stroking the man's bare skin.
"Good . . . m'glad . . . for me, too."
Nick felt the blond's muscles slacken as sleep took him. Resting his head
against Cody's, Nick closed his eyes and sighed. "I love you," he whispered.
"Nick?" came a mumbled voice.
"Yeah?"
"I thought about it; let's tell Murray."
Nick felt his heart pick up speed. "You sure?"
"Uh-huh, feels right." He snuggled closer. "Feels good."
"I know," Nick whispered. "You still want to date women?"
"I don't know . . . just you, I think . . . Different . . . Good . . . I love
you, too."
"Shh," Nick said. "Get some sleep. We'll talk about it tomorrow."
"G'night."
"Good night, Cody." This time Nick was sure Cody was sleeping, a soft snore
marking the transition.
This can work, he told himself. I just have to let him set the pace. I love
him. As long as he knows that we'll be okay.
He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the soft blond hair and drifted
off to sleep. His last thought was a brief concern over what was going to
happen when one of them needed to roll over. . . . 
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