Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1139536.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Welcome_to_Night_Vale
  Relationship:
      Carlos/Cecil_Palmer, Carlos/OFC, Carlos/OMC, Cecil/Earl_Harlan, Cecil/
      Michael_Sandero, Cecil/OFC, Cecil/OMC
  Character:
      Carlos_(Welcome_to_Night_Vale), Cecil_Palmer, Cecil's_Dad_(Welcome_to
      Night_Vale), Carlos'_Family_(Welcome_to_Night_Vale), Dana_(Welcome_to
      Night_Vale), Earl_Harlan, Michael_Sandero, Pamela_Winchell, Marcus
      Vansten, Steve_Carlsberg, Erika_(Welcome_to_Night_Vale), Old_Woman_Josie
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_College/
      University, POCecil, Angst, Fluff, Drama, Weird_Shit, Homophobia,
      Internalized_Homophobia, Genderfluid_Character, Mentally_unstable
      character, Trans_Character, Illustrations, Cecil's_like_a_5.5_on_the
      Kinsey_scale
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-15 Updated: 2018-02-15 Chapters: 21/? Words: 68230
****** White Flag ******
by LarissaFae
Summary
     Carlos meets Cecil when the Junior begs him for help after failing a
     test. Cecil is strange and quite possibly on drugs ... or maybe it's
     just the wendigo.
     Not all chapters are explicit, but the ones that are will be marked
     as such.
     Updates the 15th of every month.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Summary
     Hi, welcome to the start of the story. So ... Carlos meets Cecil. And
     his dad. And yeah.
Chapter Notes
     Chapter 1-3 illustrations by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Carlos was going over an extra chemistry assignment he’d begged when the boy in
the skirt and combat boots flopped into the chair across from him with a
disgusted sigh.
"Ugh, can you believe that test? I completely failed. My dad’s going to kill
me." He buried his face in his arms and continued to lament his abject failure
at life in general and chemistry in particular. When Carlos continued to ignore
him, he finally looked up. "Carloooooooos," he whined, "I’m talking to you."
"I don’t know who you are," Carlos mumbled. The boy was staring at him.

             [http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb264/LarissaFae/
                       chapter001idontknowwhoyouar.jpg]
Carlos did know who he was. His parents had pulled him aside the day he’d
transferred to the private school and told him in no uncertain terms to never
talk to the Native boy, who had been twirling down the hallway in bright yellow
skinny jeans, a green velvet shirt that looked like it came from the seventies,
and a purple tutu as the other students laughed. He hadn’t seemed to notice
anyone until he’d seen Carlos, at which point he’d broken out into a huge grin
and started blushing. Carlos had ignored all the notes he’d been passed or
found in his locker; they were mostly just cheerful greetings, anyway. The boy
did all the school’s announcements, so it was impossible to not at least
recognize his low, smooth voice - it had waxed poetic about Carlos since his
arrival, much to the amusement of the student body and the frustration of the
staff. Principal Winchell could constantly be heard yelling at the boy in the
background, and he always just laughed cheerfully and moved on.
Carlos was fairly certain he was on drugs.
"Uh, I’m Cecil," the boy sighed. "Duh. I sit near you in chemistry? I do the
morning announcements? God, that shirt looks great on you. Where did you get
it?" His face lit up before Carlos could do more than stutter. "Hey, do you
think you could tutor me?" He sat up excitedly, grinning. "Please? I can pay
you! My dad’s going to flip when he sees my test, but you're super smart, and
if you tutor me, he might not feed me to the wendigo!"
Carlos was set to tell the boy no, but his normally cheerful countenance had
fallen and his warm brown skin had paled. He honestly looked worried, almost
downright afraid.
"… I’ll ask my parents," Carlos muttered instead. "They might not … they don’t
…"
Cecil threw his head back and laughed. "They don’t want you to catch the gay!"
Carlos hunched his shoulders and looked around to see if anyone had heard, but
it was fairly obvious that everyone was used to Cecil’s flamboyance, and no one
was paying attention to them. Cecil propped his chin in his hands and grinned
as he looked Carlos over. "Don’t worry, darling. I’ll try not to infect you
with my fabulousness. Unless you want me to," he added with a wink. Carlos
flushed hard enough that it must have showed on his dark skin and started to
stutter, and Cecil stood up with another warm laugh. He pulled his long,
braided black hair forward and then tossed it all behind him before dropping a
piece of paper in front of Carlos. "Here’s my home number. Call me and let me
know. Have a great day, beautiful. Dana!"
He trotted off, waving down the Muslim girl he hung out with most often, taking
her arm and laughing with her. Carlos stared down at his extra assignment. He
was suddenly unable to concentrate on the work he usually loved. Cecil was open
about his crush on him, but also never really tried to get Carlos to interact
with him - that had been their longest interaction to date. He was a strange
boy, wandering around school in a daze, almost, a conspiracy theorist who
applauded the government control and intrusion he was convinced of, who seemed
to pull half of every outfit from his sister’s closet, was prone to disjointed
and strange ramblings of a vaguely mystical nature, had a voice too deep for
his frame, and who was absolutely stunning.
Carlos sighed and dropped his head to his chemistry book. Cecil was across the
lunch room, leaning forward to let Dana braid the pale lavender streaks of hair
at his forehead, one hand idly scratching the small goatee he sported. Even
from where he sat, Carlos could see his large brown eyes. They were expressive
and honest; lying seemed to be something that Cecil had never heard of. He
didn’t give a single fuck if everyone knew he was gay, either, and Carlos
wondered why he was never more than verbally harassed about it.
His father being chief of the Navajo Nation police might have had something to
do with that - Mr. Palmer was a mountain of a man, over six and a half feet
tall and all surly muscle. He dropped off and picked Cecil up daily in his
police cruiser, with Cecil wailing cheerfully about The Man taking him in for
re-education, for anyone who cared to listen. Carlos wasn’t sure why Mr. Palmer
let his son regularly wear makeup and girl’s clothes to school, or why the
private school allowed it. Maybe Mrs. Palmer had something to do with it, but
Carlos had never seen or heard about her.
The bell rang and Carlos gathered his books with a sigh of relief as he hurried
to his next class.
~~~~~
Cecil’s father’s cruiser was at the curb when Carlos got home. A sinking
feeling of apprehension settled in his gut as he walked up the sidewalk, and he
almost turned around and went back to Marcus’, but if he wasn’t in the house
within - he checked his watch - three minutes, his parents would probably call
the cops to look for him. They'd done it before. So he sighed, swallowed his
anxiety, and opened the front door.
His parents were sitting on the couch across from Cecil’s father, and they were
all calmly drinking coffee. Cecil was sitting cross-legged on the floor in
slacks and a button-up shirt, which, considering his normal fashion sense, was
startlingly out of place. Carlos figured the outfit had been his father’s idea,
but Cecil had gotten around it by gleefully engaging Carlos’ younger sisters in
a game of dress-up. They were fawning over his hair and covering him in makeup
and nail polish. Juana was brushing his hair, Alonsa was working on his nails,
and Lenora was covering his cheeks in rouge. Cecil was completely blissed out,
eyes half-lidded and a grin on his face that said he was having the best time
of his life. Carlos didn’t know where Anita was.
"Hey, Carlos," Juana finally said as she glanced up and saw him standing in the
doorway. Cecil lit up as much as the girls did at the sight of him.
"Carlos!" Alonsa and Lenora squealed, jumping up to run around him. "Come play
with us! Isn’t Cecil pretty?"
"He lets us play with his hair." Lenora glared up at him accusingly. He never
let them touch his curly black hair. He rarely touched it, if not to yank a
comb through the mess.
"Uh, wow," Carlos mumbled. He knelt, hugged them both tightly, and kissed their
foreheads. "That was nice of him. Did you thank him?"
"Cecil!" Anita shrieked, running in as fast as her chubby three-year-old legs
could carry her and waving around a tutu and a crown. "Cecil! Wear these!"
"A tutu and a crown?!" Cecil breathed as he looked away from Carlos. Carlos’
parents’ smiles had chilled a bit. "I’ve never had those before! Wow! For me?
Really?" He let Anita crown him and knelt in order to fasten the tutu around
his narrow hips, then stood up and twirled. "Am I pretty? I told Dad you might
be able to -- neat! Thank you! -- tutor me and showed him my test," Cecil
explained over his shoulder. "He brought me right over. Wow! Barbies and
dinosaurs! Rawr!" The girls shrieked and took off running, and Cecil chased
after them as he made dinosaur noises. Even Juana - almost thirteen and too
cool for pretty much everything - ran off with a grin.
Carlos looked at Cecil’s father, who was watching him with what was probably a
mild expression for him, but looked to Carlos like the man might kill him just
to watch him die. “Uhm … hi. Sir.”

    [http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb264/LarissaFae/mistahpalmah.jpg]
"This is Mr. Palmer," his father stated. "He wants you to tutor his … son." It
was almost a question as Mr. Palmer stood, towering over even Carlos’ six feet
of awkward sixteen-year-old height, and held his hand out. His face was lined
and his eyes were as cold up close as they were from farther away, his lips
seemingly permanently pursed. His grip, when they shook, was firm. It didn’t
crush him like Carlos had feared and expected.
"Fifty dollars a week," he rumbled. Carlos’ eyes bugged out. "Is that enough?"
"Uhm, uh … yeah," Carlos stuttered. His mother glared. "I mean, yes. Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir. I’ll, uh, do my best, sir. Thank you, sir."
"They’ll study here," Carlos’ father started. Cecil and the girls ran,
screaming, through the living room and Mr. Palmer merely raised an eyebrow.
Carlos’ father sighed.
"The library --" Carlos started.
"Cecil needs to be home before dark," Mr. Palmer stated. "And you need to be
off the reservation by then. You will study in the kitchen - Cecil will just
sleep or play with his radio equipment if he does homework in his room. I’ll
bring you home. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school. I believe that
won’t interfere with your other extracurricular activities. You’ll start
tomorrow. Cecil."
He hadn’t noticeably raised his voice, but Cecil was in front of him so fast he
may as well have teleported there, and stood nearly at attention.
"Yes, sir?" He was covered in glitter and wearing fairy wings.
"We’re leaving." Cecil immediately undressed and grinned at Carlos and his
family.
"Thanks, guys!" he said cheerfully. "You’re all amazing and smart!" He said
that to Carlos’ sisters, who clung to him and wailed. "No, no, let go. I’ll
come play again soon. Uh, thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia, for letting Carlos tutor
me." His father grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door and almost off his
feet. "I promise I won’t make him gay!" he yelled, then laughed, then yelped
when his father smacked him on the back of the head. He waved and blew Carlos a
kiss as they drove away.
"What did he say?" Carlos’ mother asked as he shut the front door.
"Uh … that he promises to study every day." He turned to go upstairs and his
mother took his arm and turned him to look at her, her lips turned into a frown
and her brows knit together. "Mom?"
"That boy, he’s …" She looked at his sisters, then pulled Carlos down nine
inches to whisper in his ear, "gay, Carlos."
Carlos flushed and shrugged. He’d been doing that a lot today. “Uh, maybe.”
"Promise me you won’t be alone with him. Don’t let him tell you that sort of
thing’s ok, Carlos. Call us if you’re left alone with him or if he tries
anything. Do you hear?"
"Yeah, like anyone’s going to want this," Carlos sighed. He gestured over his
body. "Mama, I’m thirty pounds overweight, not popular in the slightest, and
hit about seventy percent of the branches when I fell out of the ugly tree. I
think I’m safe from Cecil’s advances."
His mother sighed sadly and brushed his hair out of his face before cupping his
cheek. “Oh, mijo, people like that prey on unattractive people because of their
low self-esteem. Be strong, Carlos. I’ll pray for you.”
"Thanks, Mom," Carlos bit out before storming upstairs.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Studying, wendigo, dogs, and weirdness.
Chapter Notes
     Chapter 1-3 illustrations by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes

                         [ photo chapter002twirl.jpg]
"Carloooooooooos!" Cecil ran up to him and spun around, laughing as his long
skirt flared around his legs. "Isn’t this amazing? You get to tutor me! I get
to be tutored by you!"
Carlos, entirely unused to so much attention in any form, much less from
beautiful boys who looked like they might leap into his arms and kiss him at
any moment, hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. “Uh, yeah. The whole
school knows. You told everyone this morning.”
"I’m just excited, you know? The smartest, handsomest guy in school, tutoring
me!" Carlos glared at him, but as usual, he seemed completely sincere in his
belief that Carlos was the most perfect guy in school, maybe the world. There
was none of the sarcasm or derision usually reserved for people Cecil hated,
like that Steve kid, who rivaled Cecil in his mad conspiracy theories.
"Uh, yeah, just … It’s not a big deal. You don’t need to talk about it." Cecil
stared at him, and Carlos could see the fluff drifting through his brain like
clouds. "If you talk about it, my parents will find out and won’t let me tutor
you anymore."
That got through the fog, and Cecil’s eyes widened as they walked to his
father’s waiting cruiser. “Oh. Oh. I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”
He looked so sad that Carlos smiled. “It’s ok. Just tone it down. Good
afternoon, Mr. Palmer,” he said as Cecil got in before him.
"Have a nice ride back to Mexico, you fucking wetback!" someone yelled.
Carlos rolled his eyes and covered Cecil’s mouth, which was twisted in sudden
rage. “That’s dampback,” he yelled, “and my people were here long before yours,
asshole!” Cecil’s father burst into gravely laughter as Cecil stared at Carlos
in shock. Carlos gave him a questioning look as he got in and buckled up.
“What?”
"You … you just … Dampback?"
Mr. Palmer’s unexpected and unsettling laughter, low and dry like he hadn’t
laughed in years, subsided as Carlos shrugged. “My parents hopped the border.
My sisters and I were born here. They’re wetbacks, we’re dampbacks. Bullies
don’t usually know how to react when I correct them.”
"… Huh." Cecil buckled himself and shrugged. "I just offer to blow them when
they call me a fag."
"Cecil." Mr. Palmer’s hand snapped back and caught him across the cheek. Carlos
sucked in his breath in shock, but Cecil just yelped and then grinned.
"Geez, Dad, like you've never gotten a blowjob." He braced for another slap,
not even bothering to dodge, and grinned at Carlos like it was a game. "Ugh,
fine, I promise I won’t give Carlos a blowjob until he asks."
"Shut up," Carlos muttered as his cheeks heated.
Cecil changed subjects easily, chattering on about how fun and adorable Carlos’
sisters were, how he wanted to be in radio (“You have the voice for it," Carlos
conceded to Cecil’s delight), how he wanted to travel after high school, and
how Carlos should never, ever acknowledge the wendigo that liked to hang around
Elder Josie, like seriously, don’t even look at them, they are vicious when
they’re acknowledged.
Carlos, who had been only half-listening, blinked. “Wait, what?”
"Ignore him," Mr. Palmer stated firmly as Cecil heaved a sigh. "Shut up, boy."

                          [ photo chapter002walk.jpg]
Cecil was quiet for the rest of the ride, jumping out silently once they pulled
up to his house. It was a single-wide mobile home, shabbily built but in good
repair. It was a far cry from Carlos’ house, which comfortably fit his family
of seven with an extra guest room. Carlos almost felt ashamed to have so much
more than Cecil -- no matter how recently acquired -- and wondered if the other
boy would think he was stuck up.
"If you’re not interested in men," Cecil’s father rumbled as Carlos started to
get out of the car, "tell him right away. He needs to start getting over his
crush as soon as possible."
Carlos had frozen, his heart pounding. “I, I’m not gay,” he stammered.
Cecil’s father didn’t look at him, just watched as Cecil ran around the back of
the house, followed by a pack of what had to have been wolves, laughing. “Then
tell him. I don’t care who you want, boy. I care about my son getting hurt.
Hurt him as little as possible.”
Carlos looked at Cecil, running like a wild thing with his dogs, and nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
"Good. Come in while he does his chores. Do your chores!" he called as Cecil
ran past. Cecil’s reply was lost as he tripped and was covered in hounds, and
his father just sighed and went inside, Carlos on his heels. Only the change
from seventies shag carpet to linoleum marked the boundary between the living
and dining rooms. The kitchen was even tinier, and there was a short hallway
that led, presumably, to the bedrooms and bathroom. Carlos set his backpack on
the rickety table and pulled out his chemistry book and notes, feeling out of
place.
"Look at this shack!" Cecil crowed as he burst through the front door fifteen
minutes later. "Don’t I have a great shack?"
He was challenging Carlos to comment on his lack of money -- his cheerful
aggressiveness and tense body language were the same that Juana had taken as
little as three years previously. Carlos looked around and raised his eyebrows
with a shrug. “We fit six of us in an apartment not even half this size before
Dad got promoted. It’s roomy.”
Mr. Palmer set a glass of water on the table with a tight, approving smile
while his son stared at Carlos. His mouth worked for a bit until he seemed to
settle on just … looking … at Carlos.
"I love you," he finally said.
"I’m not gay," Carlos blurted out, then winced.
The beautiful young man gave him a serene, almost angelic smile. “That’s ok.”
Then he spun around. “I’ll be right back!”
He was out the door again and his father let out a slow, patient breath. “I
have to get back to work.” He walked past Carlos, who looked at him in
surprise. “The boy’s an airhead, but he respects boundaries. He’ll just flirt
until you tell him to stop. But if you do have sex,” and Carlos choked on his
water, “use condoms. And be quiet if anyone else is here.”
Then he was gone, Carlos dumbfounded in his wake, once more smacking Cecil
across the face as the boy ran back up to the house. Carlos winced and wondered
if CPS had authority on tribal lands. Cecil was bright and cheerful when he
came in, though, and gently grabbed Carlos’ sleeve. “Come see my room! It’s
really neat!”
Carlos hesitated, staring at Cecil’s face with worry. “We need to study.” How
did one subtly ask someone if their parent beat them?
Cecil waved him off. “Oh, psh, we can study later. Want to meet the puppies?
What? Do I have something on my …” Cecil’s hand drifted over the red mark on
his cheek and Carlos’ lips tightened. His smile faded. “… Oh. It’s nothing. I’m
fine.” Then he grinned and stepped closer to Carlos, his hand sliding down to
curl around Carlos’ wrist. “Wow. No one’s ever been worried about me before.
Neat.” He voice dipped low in Carlos’ stomach on the last word and coiled
warmly there.
Carlos pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, hoping his blush wasn’t
visible. “He … he shouldn’t hit you.”
Cecil laughed. “Relax. He didn’t use the belt, so it’s no worry. Relax,” he
said sharply when Carlos tried to protest again. His dark brown eyes narrowed
and he was serious, his speech losing all of its lilts and valley-girl-esque
mannerisms. “My father loves me, Carlos. He is not abusive. You don’t know what
we’ve been through. Don’t you dare judge us. Understood?”
He was utterly -- utterly, impossibly -- still then, and a chill swept over
Carlos’ skin. He shivered as the light breeze didn’t disturb so much as a
single hair on Cecil’s head, and nodded. “Yeah. I understand. I’m sorry,
Cecil.”
There was one more heartbeat of preternatural stillness and then Cecil’s smile
came back as the room warmed.
"Great! Now, give us a kiss."
He puckered his lips and leaned forward, tilting his head up and waggling his
eyebrows, but Carlos pushed him away with a nervous laugh. “Knock it off. Come
on, let’s study.”
Cecil just rolled his eyes and pouted.
~~~~~
"Hey, pay attention." Carlos tapped his pencil on Cecil’s knuckles. The boy was
staring pensively out the window.
"It’s getting dark," he murmured.
"What?"
Cecil pursed his lips and frowned. “It’s getting dark. If Dad’s not back soon,
you’ll have to stay the night.”
Carlos rolled his eyes. “I told you to knock it off, Ce--"
Cecil whipped his head around so fast his hair flew out and across Carlos’
face. He had the same unnatural stillness to him as earlier, and his expression
was hard. “I’m not hitting on you. No one goes outside on the reservation at
night. No one.” He shoved himself up and grabbed the wall phone, dialing as he
stared at the darkening sky and twirled the cord around his finger. “Hey, Elder
Josie, this is Cecil. Do you know where my dad is? I have a friend over. He
lives off-rez.” He sighed as he listened. “Okay. Okay. You will? Thanks. I’ll
call as soon as Dad’s back. I owe them. Thank you, Elder Josie. I will. You,
too.” He hung up and started putting all of their work away, talking in a quiet
hurry. “When Dad pulls up, get out the door and in the car as fast as you can.
Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Just do it. Do it,” he snapped. Carlos shut his
barely-opened mouth. Cecil was afraid. Almost terrified. He sat down and packed
his things as Cecil left the house, muttering about his puppies.
A few minutes later, they were by the open front door as Mr. Palmer pulled up
with a screech of his tires. Cecil pushed Carlos out the door.
"Go! Now! See you tomorrow!"
The moment Carlos left the safety of the house his entire body went cold with
the knowledge -- the absolute knowledge -- that behind him -- right behind him
-- was an ancient terror, something vast and awful and headed right for him,
and he was almost sobbing from primeval fear when he hit the cruiser door at a
run he didn’t remember breaking into, flinging the door open and himself inside
and even though the feeling abated, it didn’t go away -- it followed them as
they drove and only left once they were off the reservation.
Carlos finally twisted around in his seat to look behind them, but the land was
empty. He stared, shaking, at Mr. Palmer. “What was that?”
"You’ve been listening to Cecil’s theories too much," was the flat reply. "Work
ran late. Did he pay attention? No -- did he learn?"
Carlos’ heart was still pounding and he crossed himself several times even
though he wasn’t really religious, and the ritual of it made him feel better.
“Uh, yeah. He learned. He’s actually, uhm …”
"Smarter than he acts?" Mr. Palmer’s lips twitched towards a smile, then
changed their mind, settling back into a thin line.
"Uh … yeah."
"Cecil has his ways of coping with life. He’s a good boy." They were silent the
rest of the way to Carlos’ house, and once they’d pulled up, Mr. Palmer turned
to him. "I’m paying you to tutor my son," he stated. Carlos nodded. "You don’t
have to be his friend. But if you do, it would be good for him. He needs more
than the spirits to talk to. Goodnight."
It was a clear dismissal and Carlos was unlocking the front door before Mr.
Palmer’s words really registered. He paused, then shrugged. Everyone had their
own beliefs.
"Carlos! Are you home?" his mother called from the kitchen.
"No, Mom, I’m a serial killer," was the usual reply. She laughed and bustled
out to hug him, then gripped his shoulders and looked him up and down intently,
pursing her lips. Carlos rolled his eyes. "Don’t worry, Cecil didn’t make me
gay. He didn’t hit on me. He didn’t touch my no-no place. He didn’t --"
"I don’t need your sarcasm," his mother snapped. "Did you eat?"
"We had some snacks. I’m not hungry. Can I go upstairs, please? I need to take
a shower. Wash the residual gay off." He ducked out of her grasp and trotted up
the stairs.
"Don’t give me that sass, boy! Don’t think I won’t beat you!" she yelled after
him.
Carlos leaned over the railing at the top of the stairs. “Love you, too!” he
yelled back with a grin. Once he was in his room he locked his door, stripped,
and jumped into the shower. He was a very clean young man. He showered every
day. Having time to masturbate without the fear of being caught certainly had
nothing to do with it. Carlos just liked being clean -- he was a bigger guy,
and sweated a lot. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t thinking of Cecil as he bit his lip
and stroked himself. Not his smooth, tan skin. Not his large brown eyes. Not
his long hair, not his low voice and bright laughter, not the feeling of his
long fingers around Carlos’ wrist. Carlos. Wasn’t. Gay.
He came with a gasp and a shudder, taking a moment to catch his breath and let
the hot water beat down on him before cleaning up quickly. He had things to do
that had nothing to do with strange boys who thought ancient legends were true
and looked at him like he was Adonis. If he studied hard, he could graduate
early and move on to college. Maybe he could find a promising internship.
There were two messages on his phone when Carlos sat down on his bed to get
dressed. He didn’t recognize the number, but he recognized the voice on the
other end.
"Carlos! Uh, hi! It’s Cecil. This is Cecil. I’m Cecil." Carlos smiled and shook
his head. "I, uh, just wanted to make sure you got off the reservation. Didn’t
get eaten. Uhm. Call me back. This is, uh, my home phone. Don’t call after nine
-- it attracts the wendigo. So … call me! Have a good night! … Bye!"
The next message was also Cecil, sounding a bit put out. “So, uh, hi. It’s me.
Cecil. Dad came home. He said you got home safe. So, I mean, you don’t have to
call. I mean, like, you can if you want to! That’d be great! But, like, you
know … only if you want to. Uh. See you tomorrow. Bye!”
Carlos rolled his eyes. Cecil was strange. He finished dressing, then dug out
his homework and started on it.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Creepy backstory, and the moon isn't real.
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.
     Chapter 1-3 illustrations by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Ok, so if I take three additional courses at the university this summer, and -
-"
"No phones in school, Mr. Garcia!" Principal Winchell called. She had Cecil by
the scruff of his unrepentant neck and a scowl on her face.
"-- One moment, please." Carlos lowered his phone and raised his voice
slightly. "I’m talking with a university representative about what I need to
get scholarships and graduate early, ma’am. I’ve got a four-point-eight GPA,
two jobs, and I watch four younger siblings while my parents work. I don’t
think I’m slacking by being on the phone, ma’am."
Principal Winchell stared at him for a moment as he gave her his best grin,
then sighed and shook Cecil, who was cackling. “… Talk in the office, then.
Shut up, Mr. Palmer.”
"Thank you very much, ma’am." Carlos raised his phone again and trotted to the
office. "My apologies, sir. So, three university courses this summer, and I can
take them online if I need to, then I should be able to graduate a year early
and see you all in two years?"
"Absolutely." The rep’s grin was audible. "You’ve got a lot of scholarship
options, too. Racial minority, your GPA, your job - you said you have two?"
"I’m tutoring a classmate in chemistry."
"Oh! Great! Ok, let’s see … child of immigrants, first in your family to go to
college …" The rep laughed. "I think the only way you could get more money was
if you were gay. You’re not gay, too, are you?" Carlos started to stammer and
the rep laughed again. "Sorry, it was a joke. It's true, but none of my
business." The bell rang. "Ok, Carlos, I’ll let you get back to class and I’ll
e-mail all of this to you. Call me later, ok?"
"Yeah, thanks. Have a good day." Carlos hung up and hurried to English. Cecil’s
Muslim friend turned around as he slid into the seat behind her.
"Are you and Cecil dating?" she whispered. She sounded five, her voice high and
sweet.
Carlos dropped his notebook in shock and glared at her. "No,” he hissed back.
“I’m not gay. I told him. Did he tell you we were …?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “No, you twit. And being bisexual is a thing, you
know. I’m Dana. I'm his best friend. He’s completely in love with you.”
[https://31.media.tumblr.com/a8b0db1f2db64da8390ab2692a7e0558/
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"He doesn’t even know me," Carlos snapped. "I’m just tutoring him."
"Ok, ok, whatever. But you’re getting a Palestinian wedding. You’re the richer
one, so you can give Cecil a dowry. Leave the rest to me."
"You’re crazy, both of you."
Dana smiled sweetly and turned to the teacher. Carlos glared at the back of her
head.
~~~~~
That night, Carlos was deep in a free online physics course when his phone
vibrated with a call. He frowned at Cecil’s number before picking up. “…
Hello?”
[https://31.media.tumblr.com/7f01613c517415172a68ab2237c2c859/
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"Is the moon even real?"
That made him laugh as he stretched. "What?”
"Yeah, I was looking at the moon until a wendigo came to the window, so I had
to close the drapes, because Dad hates it when they come around -- they trample
the garden, see -- and yeah, I was like, what is the moon? Is it even real? Is
it watching us? And you're smart -- like, really smart -- so I thought you’d
know."
Carlos sighed and looked out his own window at the same moon. It was
wonderfully full and bright. “Funny, Cecil, but I’m doing some homework right
now.”
"Why is it funny?" Cecil was clearly confused. "I asked Steve, but he says
there are secret bases on the moon that monitor everyone on Earth. That’s
ridiculous, right? We’d be able to see them with telescopes, but he says
they’re underground. So I pushed him down and ate his banana. I think it was
made by Pepsi. That’s the sort of publicity stunt they’d pull, right? Good for
Pepsi, I say!"
He was completely serious. Carlos covered his eyes and counted to ten. “Cecil …
no. No. The moon is real, and it isn’t a publicity stunt. Look, I’ll explain
tomorrow, ok?”
"Well, ok … Hey, do you want to be on my radio show?"
"I’ll pass. Go to sleep, Cecil."
There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “Ok. Goodnight, Carlos.”
"Goodnight, Cecil."
~~~~~
Cecil was staring out the window, his eyes glassy. Carlos sighed and slammed
his book shut, and Cecil finally looked at him as he stood.
"Hmm?"
"I can’t tutor you if you’re not going to pay attention, Cecil. I’m not going
to tutor you if you’re not going to pay attention."
Cecil hastily stood, his large eyes even larger. “No! Don’t go! I’m sorry,
Carlos. I’ll pay attention!” The microwave dinged and he spun toward it. “The
popcorn’s done!” Carlos sighed loudly and Cecil turned back to him slowly,
sheepishly. “… Sorry.”
Cecil wasn’t stupid. Carlos knew he wasn’t stupid. Cecil had made some very
shrewd observations in the history class they shared, and when the Slavic
exchange student had decided to celebrate Halloween by dressing as a racist
caricature of a Native American, Cecil’s eloquent tirade about cultural
appropriation over the PA system during lunch - one that Principal Winchell
hadn’t bothered stopping - had been nearly poetic in his tightly controlled
fury.
Carlos suspected an undiagnosed case of ADHD, but then, Carlos suspected a lot
of things.
Cecil was getting distracted again, so he snapped his fingers and once he had
Cecil’s attention, jerked his thumb toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go
outside, play some football.” He frowned at Cecil’s tight shorts and brightly
striped leggings. “… You’d better put some long pants on.”
"… Yeah …" Cecil shook himself. "Yeah, sure! It’s light enough out. We can play
with the puppies before dark!" He headed toward his room. "Come see my room!"
"You’re changing," Carlos called after him. "And I’m pretty sure those are
wolves."
"They’re puppies, and honey, I don’t have anything you don’t have yourself!"
Carlos shrugged and followed Cecil against his better judgement. The other boy
was down to his … lacy … panties … and pulling out an old pair of pants. Carlos
forgot how to breathe as his heart started to pound. Cecil was wearing lacy
pink panties. Panties. Pink ones. Lacy ones. He stood up and Carlos whipped
around, investigating the old radio equipment on Cecil’s desk. There were notes
all over, news reports and story ideas and song titles. The equipment was in
good repair for its age, and there were a few library books on radio
broadcasting and radio dramas. Most importantly, Carlos’ back was to Cecil and
his delicate panties.
"I want to be a broadcast journalist. Or bring back radio plays," Cecil
breathed in his ear. Carlos jumped and stepped away quickly, but couldn’t get
far in Cecil’s tiny room. "I have a show. Did I tell you? I do news for the
reservation twice a month. It’s all fictional, but I think I’m building up a
good world. Wanna be on it sometime?"
He’d forgotten asking a few weeks previously. Carlos shrugged. “I’m pretty
busy. Come on, let’s go outside.” If Cecil was active, maybe he’d focus better.
Cecil grabbed a football that sat next to a pair of ballet flats and cheerfully
led the way, throwing himself into the horde of wolf-dogs laying around the
front yard with a shriek. They all leapt up and started howling, thus cementing
Carlos’ conviction that they were, in fact, wolf hybrids, if not full wolves.
They were certainly larger than any dog Carlos had ever seen. He picked up the
dropped football and called out to Cecil, who spun around and easily caught it
when Carlos threw it. A few rounds of throwing it back and forth later, Cecil
was running around Carlos, just out of arm’s reach, cradling the football like
it was a baby and making up a ridiculous lullaby. Carlos was asking him
questions about chemistry through his laughter, questions Cecil would pause his
song long enough to answer correctly before launching into a new verse. He
finally presented the football to Carlos.
"Here. Kiss our baby."
"Baby?" Carlos doubled over as he fought giggles. "Our baby? It’s a football."
"Carlos!" Cecil was scandalized and gently stroked the football. "Don’t worry,
sweetie, Papa doesn’t mean it. You’re going to give Meghan a complex, Carlos.
For shame."
"I’m not sure it’s mine," Carlos said skeptically. "Doesn’t look a thing like
me." Cecil threw the football at him in disgust and Carlos tackled him in
retaliation, then yelled as they were covered in hounds. Cecil laughed
uncontrollably and rolled over so he was above Carlos, one leg between Carlos’
thighs and his arms resting by Carlos’ head. He leaned down so their noses
brushed against one another, hands almost cupping Carlos’ cheeks. Between that
and the curtain of long hair that fell forward, Cecil was an effective shield
against the playful beasts cavorting around them. He was giggling softly and
watching Carlos. Carlos’ arms were still around his waist, and his jeans had
slid down enough that Carlos’ fingers brushed against the smooth skin of his
lower back and the lace of his panties. Carlos laughed until he realized what
he was touching, and that Cecil’s thigh was pressed firmly between his legs,
and that that was causing a response that was uncomfortable on several levels,
even if Cecil was giving no indication that he noticed the obvious. "Uhm …
Cecil … The dogs are gone …"
Cecil’s grin widened. “Then let me up,” he murmured. Carlos bit his lip and had
to force his hands to uncurl from Cecil’s hips and fall to the ground. Cecil
drew back slowly, moving down Carlos’ body, and for a moment Carlos thought he
was going to kiss down his chest, but the boy sat up before getting to his
knees and then lunging away, laughing wildly as the dogs took off after him.
He was over a small hill before Carlos realized that he wasn’t going to come
back, so he struggled to get up and followed as quickly as he could. He’d been
slowly losing weight at the construction job his father had gotten for him, and
figured that he could also probably stand to start running. He followed Cecil
and his wolf-dog pack down to the creek behind his home. He tried to call out
as Cecil rounded a bend, but was too out of breath. Carlos followed the sound
of the dogs instead, and a few minutes later came upon Cecil, quiet and still,
standing at the edge of a sharp drop.
The air was unnaturally silent as Carlos came to a panting stop a few yards
behind Cecil. The dogs didn’t move. They watched their master, who didn’t move.
The hair on the back of Carlos’ neck stood up and he wanted them to get out of
there. There was nothing about this silent place that he liked.
"Cecil?" Not even the air moved.
"This is where it happened."
He’d almost missed Cecil’s quiet words. “Where what happened? Cecil?”
"Mom," was the softer reply. Carlos’ gut clenched as he started to suspect a
lot of things. He stepped forward and Cecil turned his head a few centimeters.
Carlos stopped. "I was ten." He raised his hand to the empty air in front of
him, as if reaching out for someone or something. His voice echoed oddly, like
they were in a small room, and he held his arms out like he would fly off edge
and into the sky. "It had just rained. We’d gone for a walk. It was almost full
dark. I got too close to the edge." He tilted his face up to the overcast sky.
"I was afraid. She told me to hold still and close my eyes. Then … she took my
place."
When he didn’t continue, Carlos reached out for him. “I’m sorry, Cecil. Please
come back. It wasn’t your fault. Please, Cecil.”
"I bet I can fly …"
Cecil started to pitch forward and Carlos lunged for him, catching him by the
waist and hauling him backward, the heels of his feet sliding off the edge
momentarily before he could get them both back far enough. Cecil let out a
startled squawk and began to struggle, but Carlos outweighed him by at least
sixty pounds and straddled his hips, pinning his arms above his head.
"Hey!"
"What the hell, Cecil?!" Carlos gasped out as his heart pounded, shaking. "What
the fucking hell?! Why would you try to jump?"
Cecil was squirming, and turned his face to the side with a shrug. “I … I just
wanted to fly. Let me go.”
"No!" Carlos’ normal tenor jumped up an octave and he thought he might cry as
the dogs took the situation as an invitation to play again, bounding toward
them, licking their faces and barking. "You tried to jump off a fucking cliff,
Cecil! Are --"
"It’s more of a ravine."
"-- you fucking crazy? What is wrong with you?!" Carlos pulled Cecil up and
hugged him tightly, trying not to cry from the adrenaline. Cecil just sighed
and rested his cheek on Carlos’ shoulder, sliding his cold hands around Carlos’
waist, under his shirt. He may have been sniffling. "Your mother’s death wasn’t
your fault, Cecil," he murmured. Cecil’s arms around him tightened. Carlos
hesitantly ran his fingers through Cecil’s silky black hair, encouraged when
Cecil sighed and started to relax. "Just … stop. I can’t … I don’t know what to
do, here," he confessed. Cecil was … smelling … his neck. Carlos let him, if it
meant Cecil wasn’t going to try to kill himself again. "How do I make you not
hurt yourself?"
Cecil’s laugh was more felt than heard, and he raised one hand and gripped
Carlos’ bushy black hair gently. “I don’t want to hurt myself,” he murmured.
Carlos didn’t believe him. “I just … I want things to be different.” His lips
were resting on Carlos’ neck. “I want my mom back. I can’t talk to her. I can
talk to others. I can talk to the wendigo. I just can’t talk to her. Sometimes
I think I can see her, or hear her. I just … I miss her so much.”
He started to cry, then, and Carlos held him tightly, like he would his baby
sisters after they'd had a nightmare. They sat in the dead leaves of the
approaching winter, somewhat warmed by the dog pack and their own bodies, Cecil
with his skinny jeans and silk blouse and unearthly strangeness and Carlos with
his slacks and button-down shirt and inability to begin to comprehend the boy
in his arms, until the sun started to set.
The wind picked up and Carlos squeezed Cecil gently. “Hey,” he murmured. “Are
you awake?” Cecil shook his head. “Ok. The sun’s setting, thou--”
"Shit!" Cecil leapt up and stumbled, hitting his knees as he panicked. He
scrambled back up and pulled on Carlos’ shirt as the dogs went crazy around
them. His eyes were wild. "We have to go! Hurry!"
Carlos gave up trying to reason with Cecil about his fear of sunsets and just
got up and ran with him. He stumbled and Cecil grabbed his hand and they kept
running. They weren’t going to make it before dark -- how had they gotten so
far in such a short time? -- but as they crested a hill, so did Cecil’s father.
His cruiser skidded to a halt inches from them. The boys tumbled in, leaving
the dogs to find their own way back, and the tires squealed as Mr. Palmer
popped the cruiser into gear and spun it around. His hand snapped out and
caught Cecil’s cheek so hard that Cecil’s head cracked against Carlos’ as he
cried out. Carlos had never seen Cecil really try to dodge his father’s strikes
before -- had never seen his father hit him so hard -- but this time he did,
hunching his shoulders and raising his hands to cover his head.
"Mom!" he yelped. The strike headed his way froze. Mr. Palmer sighed.
"Why."
Cecil looked at Carlos, tears in his eyes and his cheek bright red. “Uhm, I’m
sorry, Mr. Palmer. We needed a break. I thought Cecil might … might learn
better if he was physically active.”
Mr. Palmer heaved another sigh. “You’re staying the night. I talked with your
parents.”
Carlos started to protest, but Cecil turned his face into his shoulder,
squeezing his hand, still shaking. He sighed. He had projects he was working
on, but …
"I don’t have clean clothes."
"We’ll wash the ones you’re wearing. Get inside."
Cecil finally let Carlos’ hand go and they all hurried inside as the last rays
of the sun dipped below the horizon. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he
disappeared down the hall and reappeared a few moments later in a robe, holding
one for Carlos. Carlos took it and went to Cecil’s room, changing quickly. The
robe was big even on him - it had to have been Mr. Palmer’s. He went back to
the living room with his clothes in his hands and Cecil took them silently. He
seemed … embarrassed. Carlos couldn’t imagine why.
"Do you need to shower tonight or in the morning?"
"Whatever’s most convenient for you two, sir."
"Go." Mr. Palmer jerked his chin toward the bathroom, gripping Cecil’s upper
arm tightly, and Carlos went.
The bathroom was almost claustrophobically small, and the mirror was covered.
He frowned at that and bathed as quickly as he could, and Cecil was sitting on
the bed when Carlos went back to his room. He was toying with his hair and had
a bundle of clothes next to him. He didn’t look up. “You can wear these
tonight.”
Carlos sat next to him. “Are you ok?”
Cecil shrugged. “I just … I’m sorry.”
"For what?"
Now he was blushing. “Well … I got … clingy. And you’re straight. And I know
that. I respect that. I was holding your --”
"Whoa, whoa," Carlos interrupted. Cecil looked at him in surprise. Carlos
smiled. "You were kind of having a crisis, Cecil. You weren’t hitting on me.
I’m not gay, but I’m not an asshole. I’m not going to freak out just because
you needed a hug after you tried to kill yourself."
Cecil rested his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “… I smelled you.”
"Yeah."
"… I may have licked you."
Carlos sighed softly. “… Yeah.”
"… I’m not sorry."
Carlos groaned and placed his palm on Cecil’s cheek, giving a gentle shove.
“Just shut it, Cecil. Don’t push your luck.”
Cecil was smiling again at last, and stood up. “Well, I’ll try to get your lips
next time.”
"Even better," Carlos retorted, "let’s not have a next time."
"Ugh, you’re no fun." Cecil swept out the door and Carlos got dressed.
"Carlos."
He jumped. Mr. Palmer had been in the kitchen, the last Carlos had known, but
he’d sounded like he was right next to Carlos. No wonder Cecil had heard him
over the noise at Carlos’ house. Carlos hurried to the kitchen, where Mr.
Palmer was cooking. He didn’t look up or turn around.
"What happened." His voice was flat, emotionless.
"I … we went outside. I was quizzing Cecil while he was active. It … seemed to
help him concentrate."
"Or wore him out enough that he wouldn’t be easily distracted. Why were you at
the ravine."
Carlos went cold at the memory. “He … he took off. I followed him, and he was
…” Carlos didn’t want to go on.
Mr. Palmer’s shoulders slumped a little as he sighed. “He was at the edge
again. Did he try to jump this time?”
Again. This time. Cecil had done this before, and Carlos’ own shoulders slumped
with a sick sort of relief at the knowledge. “I caught him. That’s why we were
dirty. He told me what happened … He said he could talk to the spirits and the
wendigo, but not … not his mother. He said he thought he could fly. I pulled
him back.”
Mr. Palmer was silent for a long time and Carlos just stared at his shoulder-
length hair. Finally, he nodded. “Thank you. You’re a good friend, Carlos.
Cecil needs good friends. He doesn’t have many. I was surprised,” he went on as
he finally turned, “that you don’t care about his feelings for you. Your
parents certainly do.”
Carlos shrugged and stepped out of the huge man’s way. He barely fit in the
trailer. “It’s none of my business. I’m not really religious, and Cecil doesn’t
try to … He’s just there. He’s just Cecil. He’s strange and can be a little
creepy, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to eat, rape, or kill me.”
A small smile crossed Mr. Palmer’s lips as he started chopping vegetables. “No,
I don’t think he will. No one wants to become a wendigo. Especially not Cecil.”
Carlos was fine with telling Cecil that mythological cannibals weren’t real,
but his father was a different story. He just nodded. “Can I help?”
"Yes. Date my son." Carlos and Cecil both spluttered and when Carlos whipped
around, Cecil was as red as Carlos felt he himself must be. Mr. Palmer laughed.
"You two set the table."
"Dad," Cecil hissed as he planted his fists on his hips, "Stop it. Carlos is
straight. He doesn't like dick. Gawd, are you trying to ruin our friendship?!"
He stalked around, pulling out plates and silverware, and Mr. Palmer caught
Carlos’ eye and winked. For such an intimidating, stoic beast of a man, he
still took a parent’s joy in tormenting their children.
"Nice pj’s," Carlos finally said.
Cecil’s muttering stopped and he grinned, looking up at Carlos through his
lashes. “Really? You like them?”
"Yeah. I didn’t know they made footsie pj’s for adults."
"Dad got them for me last year, for Christmas." Cecil did a slow turn. They
were purple and fuzzy and had a butt flap.
They all sat down and Mr. Palmer looked at Carlos. “Do you pray?”
"Not if I don’t have to. If you do, I don’t care."
"Good!" Cecil started dishing up corn and rice as his father speared some meat
for Carlos. "Are you going to winter prom? I am."
"Probably not. My parents think dances are dens of lust and debauchery or
something. I don’t like them, anyway." He took his plate from Cecil. "Thanks.
Then again, my parents are worried you’ll make me gay, so I might have to make
at least a token show of heterosexuality for them. Ugh." He frowned. "I’d have
to find a date. I don’t really know anyone - I just transferred a couple months
ago. I’d rather stay home."
"I’d go with you - I can pass as a girl really well - but I don’t think that
would help."
Carlos laughed. “Yeah, probably not.”
"Who are you going with? Earl?"
Cecil rolled his eyes as he ate. "Dad. Earl and I broke up months ago. We
weren’t even really dating. I just wanted to get laid.” Then he glanced at
Carlos, flushed darker, and looked down at his plate, concentrating on his
food.
His father sighed. Carlos was too fascinated by their relationship to be
flustered over Cecil’s openness about having sex. The fact that he was able to
be so frank with his father - the fact that his father was fine with him being
openly gay and having sex - was completely alien to Carlos. He never talked
with his parents about so much as dating, much less sex, and the few times
they'd tried, he’d sat in awkward silence until they’d given up. It had all
pretty much boiled down to ‘don’t have sex, don’t be gay, and don’t get anyone
pregnant,’ anyway.
"If you don’t have a date, where are you staying after the dance?"
Cecil shrugged. “I dunno. There’s always a jock or two who’ll sneak me in after
his folks are asleep. What?” he asked as Carlos’ jaw dropped. “It’s true. Dad
knows I have sex. He can’t really stop me.” Mr. Palmer was nodding. “I’ll
either do it here or somewhere else, and Dad doesn’t like me staying out of the
house overnight unless it’s off-rez, and you and Dana are my only off-rez
friends. So …” He shrugged. “At least I let him know where I’ll be and who I’ll
be with. I think that’s a lot better than sneaking around and lying, don’t
you?”
He seemed honestly upset that Carlos might care. Carlos shook his head quickly.
“Oh, no, no, no. I mean, yeah. It makes sense. I just … It’s just weird to me,
because my parents … we’re not like that in my family. I don’t know anyone else
who … It’s nice. I can’t talk to my parents about anything.”
"Well, Dad’s about the only person I have to talk to, so …" Cecil propped his
elbows on the table and his chin in his hand, pushing his food around on his
plate disgustedly. "I just wish that all these so-called ‘straight’ guys would
just admit they like dick and stop sneaking blowjobs at lunch."
Mr. Palmer sighed again as Carlos covered his burning face. “Cecil, be quiet.
You’re making Carlos uncomfortable. We’ll talk about this later.”
The rest of dinner was uneventful, and after, Mr. Palmer sat on the couch with
Cecil curled up at his feet, brushing his son’s long hair as an old musical
played on the television. They were talking quietly as Carlos sat at the
kitchen table and worked a few chapters ahead for his classes. He wasn’t trying
to pay attention, but he kept glancing over to watch their interaction. Cecil
was animated as he talked, using his hands for emphasis and turning or tilting
his head often to look up at his father. Mr. Palmer, in turn, smiled fondly
down at his son as he brushed and braided and talked. Once or twice Carlos
heard his own name, but Cecil mostly seemed to be talking about his radio show
and what he was doing for prom. It was warm and endearing to watch them.
Eventually, Cecil plopped down across from him. “Ok, Dad says I have to study
before I can work on my show. Let’s do this.”
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Studying, nightmares, and Marcus. Because Marcus.
Chapter Notes
     Chapter 1-3 illustrations by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Two hours later, Carlos had figured out a somewhat easy way to keep Cecil’s
attention on his work. They were playing a game of sorts, getting Cecil up and
moving around, or working with his hands. Carlos had mention it would be useful
if Cecil was able to make models of the chemical compounds they were studying,
and Cecil had promptly produced modeling clay and paint in several shades.
Between making the models and moving around the trailer, Cecil had enough
things to keep him physically occupied enough that he could mentally focus -
- and he learned fast. True, he dismissed most of it in favor of outrageous
theories (plate tectonics were a result of an expanding Earth, he explained
patiently as Carlos stared at him), but he did retain the critical information
at higher-than-average speeds. He could have graduated already if he’d applied
himself, and shrugged with a bashful smile when Carlos said so.
"Then I wouldn’t have met you." Carlos looked down, embarrassed, and Cecil
brightened. "Besides, we’ll graduate together, now, since you’re skipping
eleventh grade."
"You’re a junior?"
"Well, I certainly didn’t fail any years." Cecil’s voice was teasing. "Yeah,
I’m a junior. I’ll be seventeen in December. Are we done? I’m tired."
Carlos nodded. “Ok. We’re done.”
"Great! Come on -- let’s go to bed." He got up and headed toward his room,
giving his father a kiss on the cheek and then turning back when Carlos didn’t
follow. "Are you coming?"
"I thought I’d be sleeping out here." He didn’t think he could handle sleeping
in Cecil’s room with him. Not with the sleepless nights the beautiful young man
gave him when they weren't so close.
"Honey," Cecil crooned, "you don’t have to sleep in my bed. Not with me, at
least. I’ll take the floor."
"The couch is uncomfortable to sleep on," his father added as he turned the TV
off and stood up. "Goodnight." He leaned down to kiss Cecil's forehead before
heading to bed.
"Goodnight! See? I promise I won’t try to seduce you."
"I’m not worried about that." Carlos stood and walked up to Cecil, staring down
at him. He was almost half a foot taller, and from that angle, the light
hitting Cecil’s eyes almost made them look like they were glowing. They looked
at each other for a long time, Cecil’s lips half-parted, until he smiled
slightly and turned in to his room. Carlos followed, heart pounding and mouth
dry, and watched Cecil throw a pillow and some blankets on the floor. He
finally turned to Carlos and looked him up and down.
"I don’t think you’ll fit on the bed."
"Probably not. I’ll be fine on the floor." Cecil shrugged and they lay down,
then he closed his blinds and pulled out a notebook that had a small reading
light attached to it. He flicked it on, but they were still mostly in complete
darkness. "Uhm, can you open the blinds a little?"
"The wendigo will come around."
Carlos sighed. “Wendigo aren’t real, Cecil. They’re not even a Navajo belief.”
Cecil put his notebook aside and folded his arms at the edge of his bed,
looking down at Carlos, a darker shape in the darkness. The faint light from
the book light caught in the lavender bits of his hair. “Yeah, well, you’ve
never met a wendigo, so what do you know?”
Carlos just sighed and let Cecil believe he’d made a valid point.
~~~~~
Cecil was whimpering and thrashing around. Carlos sat up. It was the dead of
night, and he sighed as he knelt by Cecil’s bed and reached out for the boy as
something -- probably one of the dogs, and not a wendigo, because those didn't
exist -- snuffled around outside the window.
"Hey, Cecil, wake up." It didn’t work. Neither did shaking him. Cecil was
getting more and more agitated and short of physically striking him, Carlos
couldn’t wake him up. He was starting to shiver and cry in his sleep -- small,
pathetic mewls that ripped at Carlos’ heart. He sighed and got into the bed
next to Cecil, sliding under the warm covers and wrapping his arms around the
other boy, holding him tightly, stroking his hair and whispering gently to him.
"Shh, Cecil, it’s ok, you’re ok …"
Cecil quieted slowly as Carlos tightened his grip, clinging to him and panting
in his sleep. He snuggled into Carlos’ arms and shivered. Carlos placed a
gentle kiss to his temple and Cecil sighed softly against his neck, making him
shiver, too. Carlos swallowed and kissed him again before closing his eyes.
~~~~~
Cecil was facing the wall in the morning, tucked securely against Carlos’ chest
and holding Carlos’ arm tightly across his own chest. He was breathing deeply,
his muscles tense, and each breath out shook slightly.
Carlos squeezed him gently, frowning. “Hey, Cecil, wake up.”
Cecil’s breath was warm on his arm. “I am,” he whispered hoarsely.
"… Oh. Are you ok? You had a nightmare last night." He was still shivering.
"Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry about the nightmare. Rough day yesterday." He was
panting, now, and turned his face into Carlos’ arm as he swallowed sharply.
Carlos pushed himself up a little, too concerned to be turned on by Cecil’s
closeness. He tried to turn the other boy over, but Cecil refused to move.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Eyes squeezed shut, Cecil laughed. “Carlos, I’ve got a gorgeous guy in my bed,
all up against me, and I’m gay as hell. What do you think's wrong?”
Carlos pulled back a little in surprise. “Uh … you … Really?”
Cecil’s next laugh edged into a soft moan. "Yes. I’ve got the boner to prove
it, if you want to see.”
That made Carlos blush. “Uh, no, thanks.”
"Suit yourself. Let me up. If we’re not going to fuck, I need to use the
bathroom."
Carlos sat up and Cecil bolted out of the room, face flushed deeper-than-usual
russet and hair a mess. Carlos stared after him as his heart pounded. He wasn’t
sure how the knowledge that Cecil was masturbating and absolutely thinking of
him as he did so made him feel.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.
His clothes, clean and ironed, were on Cecil’s desk, and he was dressed by the
time Cecil knocked on the door. He didn’t mention the past quarter hour, just
cheerfully shooed Carlos out so he could also get dressed. There were two
covered plates on the kitchen table when Carlos wandered in, and Mr. Palmer was
nowhere to be seen. His cruiser was gone.
"Dad will come back to take us to school." Cecil sat down and took the foil off
the plates, digging into the previous night’s leftovers. "Ok, so, about the
project due next month …"
~~~~~
Carlos looked up at the hesitant knock at his door, pausing his video game.
“Come in.” It wasn’t his mother. Juana stood shyly in the doorway, wearing one
of his shirts. It looked like a baggy dress on her, hiding her developing
breasts and hitting her knees. She almost looked like a young boy. “Who said
you could wear my shirt?” She bit her lip and looked down, and Carlos took pity
on her. “Ok, fine, wear it. Just let me know next time. What do you want?”
She looked from him to Marcus hesitantly. “Uhm … Can I hang out with you guys?”
That got her a baffled look. “Why? We’re just playing video games.”
"I know, I just … I just wanted to hang out."
"Uh … Marcus?"
His friend shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t care. More people for me to beat.”
Juana’s face lit up as Carlos shrugged and she closed the door behind her,
settling between the two boys as they sat on the bed, and reached for a
controller. “Mom never lets me play video games. She says they’re unladylike
and for boys.”
Marcus snorted as he reset the game. “Your mother was obviously not raised on
Nintendo. Now look, Juana, we’re guys. We swear sometimes. We’re mean to each
other. I don’t want you crying if I call you a little bitch because you can’t
kill me.”
"Why don’t you just not call my sister a bitch?" Carlos huffed, reaching over
Juana’s head to punch Marcus in the shoulder.
"Just because Mom doesn’t let me play video games doesn’t mean I never play
them," Juana told him. "You don’t cry like a little bitch when I kill you."
Both boys stared at her and she flushed, but held her head high. "And, uh …
don’t tell Mom I swear."
Marcus grinned. “I like you, kid.” They turned back to the game.
Half an hour later, Marcus and Carlos both threw down their controllers in
disgust as Juana beamed. “I told you.” The smugness in her voice was
irritating. “Pay up.”
"No way!" Marcus protested. "I wasn’t serious!"
"Excuse me?" She looked at Carlos for support, then back at Marcus. "You said
you’d pay me fifty bucks if I won every round, and I did! You said. You didn’t
say you were joking. Pay up!"
Carlos grinned at his friend. “You can’t go back on your word, Marcus. You said
you’d pay her if she beat us, and she beat us. You can’t not pay up just
because you didn’t think you’d lose.” He slung an arm around Juana’s shoulders
as she, too, grinned. “You owe Juana fifty bucks.”
Marcus slid off the bed and stood with a scowl. “I don’t have fifty dollars,
you little shits. Not on me.”
"Then why’d you make the bet in the first place?" Carlos leaned over and
grabbed his wallet off of his desk, pulled out fifty dollars, and handed it to
his grinning sister. "You owe me, Marcus. You’re lucky Mr. Palmer just paid
me." His phone rang and he grabbed it. "Speaking of … Hey, Cecil." He flicked
it on speaker phone.
"Celia," was the higher-pitched-than-normal reply.
"What?"
There was a huff of a sigh from the other end. “Celia. It’s Celia today.”
Carlos rolled his eyes. “Celia’s a girl’s name.”
"Yeah. And I’m a girl today. So, uh, my birthday’s coming up --"
Marcus was making rude gestures and Juana was paying close attention to the
conversation. “You’re a girl today? How’s that work? You woke up --"
"And felt like a girl," Cecil cut him off. "It happens sometimes. Sometimes I
feel like a boy, sometimes I feel like a girl, sometimes both, sometimes
neither … It just happens. Anyway, my birthday’s coming up. Wanna come to my
party?"
"Hi, Celia!" Juana called out.
"Oh, hey, Juana! Wait, am I on speaker phone? Ugh, rude. You should have told
me. Anyway, my birthday? It’s next month? I’m having a party?"
"I’m still not sure how you’re a girl," Carlos pressed.
"Because gender’s not as rigid as you might think," Cecil told him, "and it’s
all in your head, anyway. I’ve got some books you can read."
Juana lit up at that and looked at him pleadingly. "Uh, sure. Yeah. Thanks. And
I’ll ask, but my parents don’t really want me going anywhere right now."
That got a snort. “They don’t want you going anywhere, or they don’t want you
spending any more time with me than you have to?”
"Yeah, that."
"Tell them I’m a girl and they won’t mind."
Carlos laughed. “I doubt that will work.”
There was a moment of silence, then, softly, “Do you believe me?”
"What, that you think you’re a girl right now?" Carlos shrugged. "Sure. I mean,
you’ve probably thought about gender a lot more than I have."
"… Do you think I’m weird because of it?"
"I do!" Marcus yelled.
"Shut up," Carlos told him sharply. Cecil -- Celia, apparently -- had sounded
legitimately concerned, and when he -- she -- sounded concerned, Carlos paid
attention. Juana was watching him like she was concerned, too. "No, I don’t
think you’re weird for thinking you’re a girl right now."
"Thinking?"
"Well, you said it was all mental, right? You may not physically be female, but
sure, mentally, why not? Some people are transgender, so being, uh …"
"Genderfluid," Celia supplied.
"Yeah. Genderfluid. I don’t see why that wouldn’t be a thing. Hey, Marcus,
what’s it called in India?"
"Hijri," was the prompt reply. "My aunt’s a hijri. She’s weird, too." He got a
glare. "Not because of that. She’s just weird."
Celia’s sigh of relief was apparent. “Good. Anyway, yeah, party, my place, next
month.” She cleared her throat. “Uhm …”
Marcus and Juana were both staring at him and Carlos cleared his throat, as
well. “Uh … yeah. I’ll ask. I’ve got to go.”
"Oh! Right! Yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, see you Monday then, I guess."
"Yeah. Good night, Celia."
Warmth flooded her voice at his use of the feminine name. “Good night, Carlos.”
They hung up and Carlos looked at his sister and friend. “What?”
"Nothing," Marcus replied. He was grinning. "I’ve gotta get home. I’ll see you
later. Bye!"
"Get out," Carlos ordered as he threw a pillow that Marcus ducked. "And bring
me my money tomorrow!" Marcus just laughed as he sauntered out of the room, and
then Carlos looked down at Juana when she lay her head on his shoulder. "I want
to go to bed."
"I want to hang out with my big brother," she returned, pulling the throw that
their grandmother had crocheted for him up to her chin and snuggling close.
"Please?"
Carlos gave in, because resisting his little sisters was something he hadn’t
yet learned to do. “Ok, fine. What do you want to do?”
"Can we watch Jurassic Park?"
"Only if you promise not to have nightmares," Carlos told her as he got up to
find the movie. Juana solemnly promised, and by the time the credits were
rolling, was fast asleep against him. Carlos looked down at her with a smile
before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her to her own room. He kissed
her forehead gently after laying her down, then tucked her covers around her
chin before turning her night light on and leaving the door open a crack.
Chapter End Notes
     From here on out, White Flag will update every month on the 15th.
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Guess who is amazing, hint it is Maria. Maria is amazing.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"You make me feel love, love, love, love, love …"
Carlos had been watching the sway of Cecil’s hips for the past few minutes as
they waited for his father. He was supposed to be reading one of the books on
gender that Cecil had loaned him, but skin-tight jeans, a sunlight-catching
metal belt, and an amazing sense of rhythm had effectively ended that activity.
So Carlos sat on the steps of the school, trying to relearn how to breathe, and
Cecil stood on the pavement, singing to himself and undulating, because there
was really no other word for the fluidity of his movements -- well, ‘erotic’
came to mind, but Carlos was trying not to think too hard about anything that
involved sex. Cecil was making it difficult.
"So … what are you today?" he finally asked when Cecil flopped down next to
him.
He got a tilted head and raised eyebrows. “Hmm?”
"Girl? Boy?"
Cecil thought about it, then shrugged. “I dunno. Cabbage. Yeah. Cabbage sounds
good.”
"So … I should call you …?"
"Anything you want, although I’m particular to ‘boyfriend’ right now." Cecil
started braiding his lavender streaks and smiled, looking at Carlos out of the
corner of his eye. "I like that you don’t freak out when I flirt with you."
Carlos shrugged and made sure the book was covering his lap. “Well, you know,
at least someone's flirting with me. I take what I can get.”
Cecil propped his chin in his hand and watched Carlos. “You don’t realize how
beautiful you are, do you? You really don’t.” Carlos didn’t answer, but it
didn’t seem like Cecil had expected him to. He just sighed and stood up as his
father pulled up to the curb. Carlos followed, definitely not watching Cecil’s
ass, and looked down when Cecil rested his head on his shoulder once they were
in the cruiser. “Ugh, I’m tired. Do we have to study today?”
"If your dad wants to stop by the store, I’ll buy stuff for enchiladas
tonight."
Cecil considered, then looked up at Carlos. “Will you stay over?”
Mr. Palmer looked at them in the rearview mirror and Carlos shrugged self-
consciously. “Uh, sure, if it’s ok.” It would be a relief, actually -- Juana
had started her period that morning, her very first one, and hadn’t stopped
shrieking and crying over it. Not even Carlos had been able to console her, and
their parents had finally just sent her back to bed after giving her a shot of
tequila to calm her down.
"Dad? Please? We’ll make dinner."
Mr. Palmer turned toward the store. “As long as Carlos teaches you how to
cook.”
"I know how to cook," Cecil protested, then laughed a little. "… mac and cheese
… from a box … Hey, I can boil eggs, too! And bake a potato! I’m a great cook."
His father’s rolled eyes said that that was a lie, and Carlos smiled. “It’s
really easy, actually.” Cecil was plucking at his sleeve in the way that Carlos
had come to recognize as him feeling the need for physical closeness -- it was
nothing sexual, and it didn’t really have anything to do with affection,
either. Cecil went through bouts of depression, and sometimes, it seemed to
Carlos, just needed to be physically grounded in reality by another person. He
linked their arms and grinned at his friend when Cecil looked up at him in
surprise. “If you can work at least a day ahead of class, I’ll buy you some ice
cream, too.”
Cecil returned his grin. “What’ll you do if I work a week ahead?”
"Nothing you’re hoping I’ll do." Cecil hand was curled around his wrist and
Carlos tried not to think about it. "Juana says hi. She wants you to come over
when you can. I think she’s got a crush on you."
"No, that’s not why." Cecil seemed sure, and Carlos shrugged. "But tell her hi
back for me. How’s she doing?"
"She’s an emotional thirteen-year-old girl. It’s all very dramatic at home,
these days."
"Girls go through a lot of shit," Cecil pointed out, "and they do it while
being mocked by pretty much everyone. Cut her some slack."
"I’m not unsympathetic. She started her period today, and I don’t want to face
the screaming when I get home. I don’t know why she’s freaking out -- yeah, it
may hurt, but she’s acting like it’s the end of the world." Carlos texted his
mother to let her know, adding on that he’d bring Juana some painkillers and
chocolate the next day. Her reply was immediate, thanking him and telling him
she’d put money in his bank account.
"If I bled for a week a month, and had cramps and mood swings and shit, I’d
freak out, too," Cecil reasoned. "And then I’d throw my tampons at assholes
like Steve. The used ones."
"That’s a biohazard. You could go to jail for it."
"It would be worth it."
"Put her in a menstrual hut." Both boys turned to Mr. Palmer as he parked,
mouths open in shock.
"Dad! That’s a horrible thing to say!"
"I told your mother to go to a menstrual hut, once. I slept in the cruiser for
a week before she let me back in the house." There was a long moment of awkward
silence; it was the first time Mr. Palmer had ever mentioned his wife. Carlos
looked at Cecil in concern. His face was pinched, like he wanted to hear more
about his mother, but at the same time, it hurt too much. Finally Mr. Palmer
sighed. "That was a bad joke. Don’t ever repeat it. Get out."
Carlos slid out of Cecil’s grasp once they were out of the car, and only a
small sigh indicated his disappointment. He followed Carlos inside and grabbed
a basket. “What are we getting?”
"Lots of stuff." Mr. Palmer had walked off, leaving them to scour the
supermarket on their own. "Come on. Rice, refried beans, cheese, lettuce …"
Cecil was touching everything he walked past. “We have a lot of that already.”
"Yeah, well, I don’t want to keep eating all your food."
He got a sideways glance and slight smile. “Because we’re poor?”
That was exactly why. Carlos was quiet for a moment as he debated on how to
answer, then, simply, “Yes.”
That made Cecil laugh, and he started feeling out some good tomatoes. “Fair
enough. I’m not too proud to refuse free food. What do you think about
dragons?”
"What sort of dragons? Asian? European?"
"I’m not sure yet. It’s for my show. I’ve got a few ideas, but I don’t want to
have too many characters." They got into a discussion on the possible
directions to take the character as they shopped. Carlos didn’t think he
contributed that much, but Cecil was delighted that he was even trying to help.
He really liked his idea for a multi-headed dragon. They met up with Mr. Palmer
in the book and magazine aisle, and Cecil grabbed a fantasy book. "Ooh! The
next one’s out!" He turned to his father, who was reading through a novel, and
bit his lip as he looked up at the man through his lashes and held the book
tightly to his chest. "Uhm, Dad? I mean, if it’s not too much money, do you
think …"
Carlos watched Mr. Palmer watch his son. He watched him close his eyes
slightly, and watched him put his book back slowly, and watched him take his
hand off of what he’d clearly been intending to buy for himself and hold it out
for the one Cecil held. Cecil lit up and threw his arms around his father,
jumping up to kiss his cheek and thank him. Mr. Palmer gave him a rare smile
and kissed the top of his head, and they headed toward the checkout. Carlos
watched all of this, then grabbed the book Mr. Palmer had put back and tucked
it under his arm before following them.
~~~~~
There was an ancient old woman sitting on the porch when they got back to
Cecil’s. Her face was lined and heavy, her hair was almost completely white,
and she was smoking a cigarette as the wolf-dogs lay around her and stared
alertly at her truck. There was someone in the passenger seat, someone tall and
covered entirely in dark clothing and a hood that hid their face. Carlos’ gut
clenched with cold dread and he looked away from the truck quickly as Cecil
scrambled out of the cruiser.
"Elder Josie!" She stood and he threw his arms around her, lifting her up into
a bear hug. She hugged him back and whacked the back of his head until he put
her down, then looked Carlos up and down as he walked up. "This is Carlos! He’s
tutoring --"
"I know about your boyfriend." Her voice was like gravel and Carlos stood still
as she circled him, poking and prodding as she went.
"We’re not dating," Cecil protested as his father greeted the woman and then
unlocked the front door. He didn’t once turn his back to the truck, even as he
ignored it completely. "Are you staying for dinner? Carlos and I are going to
make enchiladas."
"Not dating?" The look Elder Josie gave them was incredulous. "You’d be good
for each other. I suppose I can stay. I came over to talk with your father, but
if food’s involved … Erika can stay in the truck."
Cecil had gone a bit pale and backed into the house, nodding. “Dad needs
company. I mean, I doubt he wants to hang out with teenage boys all the time.”
"There’s more than enough, if Erika wants --"
Erika shifted her attention to them at the mention of her name, a mention she
shouldn’t have been able to hear, and Carlos got a cane to the back of his leg
as cold terror washed over him. “We don’t talk about Erika,” Elder Josie warned
him. Her voice was hard and Carlos started to shake from the attention. “Ignore
Erika and get inside.”
"Uh, sorry." He hurried inside and Elder Josie closed the door and locked it,
looking him up and down again with narrowed eyes. "Uhm."
"Didn’t you tell him, Cecil?"
"I tried," the boy called from the kitchen. He was putting things away and
making room on the counters. "He doesn’t think Erika exists."
Elder Josie harumphed and made her way to the couch, sitting next to Mr.
Palmer. Carlos took the lettuce from Cecil and looked down at him. He was still
pale, but wasn’t shaking. “What’s wrong? Why do we have to ignore … you know?"
"I’ll tell you later," Cecil murmured. He turned sharply and hugged Carlos,
resting his cheek on Carlos’ chest. "Please, just trust me."
"Ok, ok. Whatever you want." Carlos pushed him away as quickly, yet gently, as
he could, and turned to the food. "All right, open the refried beans."
Cecil followed directions easily, and his mood gradually lightened until he was
laughing again and trying to convince Carlos to feed him the ice cream he’d
picked out. It wasn’t until after dinner, when Carlos and Cecil were curled up
in his bed as Carlos read Cecil’s new book out loud and Cecil ate his ice
cream, that Carlos realized they hadn’t done any studying. Mr. Palmer hadn’t
said anything, though, and Carlos figured he was just glad for Cecil to have a
friend over. Carlos had silently handed him the book he’d been reading, too,
and Mr. Palmer had just looked at it for a moment before taking it with a nod.
"Is Elder Josie staying over?"
Cecil had been nodding off, head against Carlos’ shoulder. He blinked slowly.
“No. She’ll go home.”
"I thought no one was allowed outside after dark."
Cecil looked up at his window, then at Carlos. “The wendigo like her. That’s …
we call them Erika. It doesn’t attract their attention as much if we call them
Erika. They don’t hurt Elder Josie.”
Carlos set the book aside and frowned. Cecil’s delusion was a serious one, but
…. the fear that the person in Elder Josie’s truck had caused him … He shook
his head. “Ok. Fine. Let me up; I need to sleep.”
"Uhm …" Cecil grabbed his arm and squeezed it, looking down as he bit his lip.
"Would you mind … staying here with me? I just … they give me nightmares. I
usually get in with Dad when I have a nightmare, but … but last time, with you,
after you got in with me I didn’t have any, and maybe you being here with me
will keep them from happening at all … I mean, you don’t have to. I just …"
His feet were going to hang off the edge of the bed. Carlos sighed and scooted
down, turning on his side to face Cecil before twitching the glittery purple
net canopy above the bed around them. Cecil snuggled down, too, smiling up at
him, and then turned over and curled up in a ball. That let Carlos curl around
him so his feet weren’t hanging off the bed quite so much. Carlos stretched one
arm out and Cecil rested his head on it, and draped the other across Cecil’s
chest. “Are we good?” he murmured.
Cecil shivered a bit and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
"No problem."
~~~~~
The next evening, there was a young woman in the construction site’s office
trailer when Carlos went in to clock out and get his paycheck. She was Latina,
much lighter than Carlos, and the only real description he could think of for
her was 'pagan fertility goddess.' And 'voluptuous.' She was stunning in
flawless makeup, with round cheeks and big brown eyes, blonde-streaked brown
hair, a short skirt over her broad hips and thighs and a low-cut blouse over
her equally broad bosom. He wasn't quite sure how her bra held all of her in
and up, in fact. She was sitting in a chair against the wall and smiled warmly
at him as he tried to figure out how her bra worked without obviously breaking
several laws of physics. Carlos gave her a quick nod and smile as his boss -- a
friend of the family -- stood up.
"Carlos! There you are. You remember my niece, Maria, right?"
He took Carlos’ timecard as Carlos frowned. “I … don’t think so.”
"My sister got married last year. You were at the wedding."
Carlos thought a bit, then shrugged. A lot of people had been at the wedding.
“Oh. Right. How are you?”
"I’m okay." She looked him up and down -- dirty and sweaty and exhausted -- and
smiled again. "You look good."
"Uhm. You, too." Was she blind?
"Maria’s boarding school is on break," Eduardo broke in. It was more of a
meander, actually. Carlos wasn’t the most talkative on his good days. "She’s
visiting for a month or two. Enrique was saying he didn’t want his little girl
to be too bored, and your mother --"
"They want you to take me to your prom," Maria interrupted. "And babysit me so
I don’t run off and have sex or do anything fun. It’s an all-girls school," she
explained at Carlos’ blank look, then stood up. "So. Want to be my boyfriend
for a couple of months?"
"No."
Eduardo started to berate him, but Maria just threw her head back and laughed.
Both men stared at her. She wiped her eyes after a moment and took Carlos’ arm
with a grin. “Come on, Carlos. I’ll take you home. Buy you some ice cream or
something. ‘Bye, Tío Eduardo!” He grumbled at them as he handed Carlos his
paycheck -- strictly under-the-table, since Carlos was only sixteen -- and as
soon as they were out the door and out of earshot, Maria sighed. “Look,
apparently you’ve got a gay friend and your parents want me to keep you
straight. I don’t care if you are or aren’t,” she told him when he tried to
protest. “I do care that my parents are essentially pimping me out. I’m not
happy about it. So look,” she went on as she stopped them at a shiny new Camaro
and finally looked at him, “just take me out a few times -- I’ll pay -- and
take me to your dance, and maybe sneak me in one morning so your parents can
catch you sneaking me back out. We can text a bit after I go back to school,
then let it die out once your parents are convinced you’re straight, or you get
a real girl. Deal?”
His parents had been making noises at how much time he and Cecil had been
spending together. Maria did have a book on quantum physics in her car. Carlos
nodded. “Sure. Can I borrow your book?”
She grinned as they got in. “Sure. No sex, though. You’re not a bad-looking
guy, but --"
"I don’t want to have sex," Carlos assured her. "I’m trying to graduate early.
I’m too busy. You’re pretty, but …"
Maria was nodding. “Sex doesn't take that long, actually, but good. I mean, I’m
not completely ruling it out, but we did just meet.” Then she started talking
about her physics class and they chatted until they got to Carlos’ house. Maria
waved at him as he got out. “See you tomorrow!”
“‘Bye.” She drove off and Carlos braced himself as he walked into the house.
Juana was curled up in a quietly sobbing ball on the couch, so he ignored his
mother as she waited for him and knelt by his sister, smoothing her hair out of
her face. “Hey, mija,” he whispered. “I got you chocolate and painkillers.”
Juana’s sobs got louder as she took the bag he handed her, and Carlos sighed as
he kissed her cheek and stood up. His mother pulled him into the kitchen and
grilled him about Maria, and only grudgingly let him shower once he’d answered
a few questions. There was a Wal-Green’s bag with several boxes of condoms in
it sitting on his bed, and Carlos shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk.
Of course his father would do that. Well, Carlos had no need of them. Maybe
Cecil would take them, so long as Carlos was sure to make it very clear that
they weren’t a personal request. He’d do it one or two at a time, so if his
father snooped, he’d think Carlos was actually using them.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Whoa, there's smut! Holy shit, really? This soon? Wow. Yep. That's
     some smut, that is. Heeeeee~~~~ :3 :3 :3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Maria was watching him with a grin. Carlos didn’t like it when she grinned at
him like that. It meant she was going to start teasing him, or make an
observation he wasn’t comfortable with. She was intimidating. Then again, girls
in general intimidated Carlos. People, really. But mostly girls. And maybe
attractive guys, if he thought about it too hard. He concentrated on not
spilling food on himself as he ate, and didn’t look her in the eye. He was
fairly certain that girls could sense fear, and that making eye contact would
make them strike.
"So." Carlos couldn’t help but glance up at her, then lowered his head again
immediately. "You think I’m cute?"
He’d learned how to answer that sort of question. It wasn’t a shrug, or a
muttered ‘sure,’ but an immediate and solid, “Yeah. You’re really cute.”
She leaned forward, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. Carlos had learned
to take an obvious look and then look away. Breasts were fascinating from the
standpoint of not having his own to investigate, but that was about it. “Wanna
make out later?”
No. No, he didn’t. Carlos flushed and almost dipped his face in his soup, he
hunched so low. “Uh … sure.”
"Jesus, Carlos. You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic about making out
with me. Look at me!" He obeyed. "I’m fucking gorgeous! Who wouldn't wanna tap
my sexy fat ass?" She sighed heavily. "Boy, you need so much work."
"I’ve never dated anyone before," Carlos blurted in his own defense. "I’ve
never kissed anyone before you, I’ve never had sex … Is it ok for me to be a
bit nervous? I mean, I just went from my parents threatening to kill me if I
ever had sex to them throwing a girl at me and hoping I will. It’s a bit of a
paradigm shift, you know."
She didn’t look convinced. “Well, all right, but really. Don’t act like it’s
such a chore.”
"Your face is a chore," Carlos muttered.
Maria threw her napkin at him as she laughed, and he smiled, too. A couple
hours later they were sitting in her car outside of his house, kissing as she
took one of his hands and placed it firmly on her breast. Carlos almost pulled
back in surprise, but she had a good grip on his hair and held him still. He
took the opportunity to explore a bit. Logically, he knew breasts were soft.
Anything made up of that much fatty tissue was going to be soft and pliable,
and Maria had fatty tissue in abundance. He didn’t find them as appealing as
other guys, but they were still interesting. At least she smelled good. That
made Carlos laugh and he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Maria’s
neck as he giggled and gently squeezed her breast. She started giggling, too,
then sighed and tilted her neck back when he kissed it.
"You’re a dork," she whispered. "Ooh, yes. Do that. Nipples are good. Oh, God
…"
"And you’re the dork making out with me," he replied. "May I …?"
He’d moved his hand to the hem of her shirt, and Maria laughed. “You're the
first guy to ask if he can put his hand up my shirt. Yeah, go for it.”
Her skin was soft and the space between her breasts was warm. Carlos ran his
thumb over her nipple again and she whined a bit. “Well, it’s only polite. I’m
not a jerk.” Maria just laughed and moved his head lower, until he was pulling
the neck of her shirt down and kissing the tops of her breasts. She was
ticklish on her sides, he discovered -- which was a good thing, because as
fascinating an experiment as this was, Carlos really wanted to get inside and
open up the chemistry kit he’d ordered. Maria squealed and started wriggling
around, slapping at him as she laughed.
"You asshole! Knock it off!"
Carlos pulled back and grinned at her. “Stop being so ticklish, then. I got a
new chemistry kit. Wanna come see it?”
She groaned and covered her eyes. “Please let that be a euphemism for your
penis.”
"Uh, no. That’s … that’s an awful euphemism for a penis." Carlos sat back and
Maria rolled her eyes at him.
"Ok, fine, but we’re making out some more when we get inside. If we’re lucky,
your parents will catch us."
Carlos snorted as they got out of the car. “Right, and then they’ll call the
priest to make us get married right away. Kissing makes babies, didn’t you
know?” He took her hand as they walked up to the door, and his mother glared at
them suspiciously once they were inside. “Uh, hi, Mom. Uh. Maria’s going to
come look at my … chemistry kit.” They both burst into laughter and his mother
just grumbled at them as she picked up some toys. Maria pushed him and they
hurried upstairs, giggling the whole way.
"Oh, God. You’re terrible, Carlos."
"You started it! ‘Please let that be a euphemism,’ Jesus, Maria." Carlos pulled
the kit out and set it on his desk. Maria, despite her protests, was as
interested in science as he was, and knelt on his bed to watch him. "Let’s see
if we can make meth with this."
"Your parents would probably prefer that to you having a gay friend. Let’s do
it. Is this your book?" She was looking at the book about gender, and Carlos
shook his head.
"No. Can’t you feel the gay emanating from it? It’s Cecil’s."
Maria flipped it open. “Oh, that’s his gay, not yours. Got it.”
Carlos glared at her. “I’m not gay, and stop saying stuff like that. My parents
are already suspicious enough.”
Maria just stuck her tongue out at him and then pulled him in for another kiss.
~~~~~
"I heard you got a date to the prom." Carlos almost laughed. Cecil was trying
so hard to keep his crush under control, but right then he sounded so
incredibly miffed. He wasn’t looking at Carlos, and his entire body just
screamed jealousy even to Carlos, who sometimes had difficulty interpreting
social cues.
"Yeah. My parents still think you’re infecting me with the gay."
"Don’t I wish," Cecil muttered.
Carlos cleared his throat and reached into his pocket for the condoms he’d
brought to school. “And, uh, look. This is not for personal reasons, ok? I
don’t have any use for these, is all. Ok?”
Cecil glanced at him with a frown. “Uh, sure.”
"Good. Dad left these on my bed. You can probably actually use them." Carlos
looked around the hallway, then handed Cecil two condoms. Cecil’s eyes bugged
out. "Maria’s mad that her parents are pretty much pimping her out to make sure
I’m not gay. Neither of us wants to have sex. So …"
Cecil’s eyes narrowed and he just looked at the offered condoms, then at
Carlos. “You think I need condoms?”
"I think you’ll need them long before I will," Carlos explained. "If I don’t
have at least one Ph.D. by the time I’m twenty-six, I’m going to be upset. That
doesn’t leave room for sex."
"Sex doesn’t take as long as you seem to think it does," Cecil snorted. "You’re
not trying to tell me I’m a slut?"
"I don’t care, Cecil." That was a lie. "I just didn’t want these to go to
waste, and I want my parents off my back. Do you want them or not?"
Cecil finally grabbed the condoms. “Sure. Thanks. I’ve gotta get to class. See
you after school!”
Then he sauntered off, whistling cheerfully. Carlos tried not to think of who
Cecil would use the condoms with as he headed the opposite direction. It was
fifth period when he realized he’d left his calculus book in the locker room.
It had his homework in it, so he excused himself to go get it. The locker room
was empty and the book was where he’d left it on the bench, and as soon as he
grabbed it, he heard a soft moan and a thump.
Carlos froze. The moan and thump repeated. He knew what was happening -- it
wasn’t the first time anyone had had sex in the locker room, after all. He
turned to go.
Then, “Fuck, you little slut.”
"I may be a slut," Cecil replied, stopping Carlos in his tracks, "but you're
the one who begged me to blow you."
"Shut the fuck up and keep sucking," was the angry reply.
Carlos should have walked out. He should have. He knew that.
So, naturally, he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Carlos had stopped doing the
logical thing when it came to Cecil a while ago. He went the opposite of out
and crept forward until he could see Cecil and the other boy -- a football
player -- up against the lockers. The guy was facing the lockers with Cecil on
his knees in front of him, thrusting into Cecil’s mouth as he gripped Cecil’s
long black hair. The thumping was Cecil’s head hitting the lockers behind him
each time the other boy -- Mike, Carlos remembered -- shoved against him hard
enough.
Cecil didn’t seem to mind. Now that Carlos was closer, he could hear the quiet
sounds of pleasure he was making and see Cecil jerking himself off with one
hand, the other gripping Mike’s ass. He didn’t seem to mind Mike calling him a
bitch while ordering him to turn around, either -- he got up in a hurry and
turned, hiking his skirt up while spreading his legs and bracing himself
against the lockers, his panties around his knees. Carlos bit his lip and
clenched his fists, more turned on than he thought he’d ever been as Mike
pushed himself into Cecil, who whined and pushed back against him. He didn’t
seem to care that Mike was shoving his face into the lockers, he just gasped
and rolled his hips as Mike pumped into him. Carlos bit back his own moan and
turned around, fleeing the locker room as Mike turned Cecil’s face and kissed
him roughly. The bathroom was mercifully empty and he locked himself in a
stall, undoing his slacks, disgusted at how quickly he came, disgusted that
he’d watched Cecil and Mike, disgusted that that had turned him on, disgusted
at himself in general. He cleaned himself up after catching his breath, then
washed his hands in scalding hot water before slinking back to class, trying
not to cry with rage, disgust, and yes, desire.
"Someone hid my book," he muttered as the teacher gave him and the clock
pointed looks. His anger at himself worked in his favor, convincing Mr.
Midorikawa that he’d spent half an hour looking for the book. He pulled out a
week's worth of homework and handed it over.
"Take your seat."
Carlos did, glaring at his desk. He was ahead of the class, so it wasn’t as if
he needed to be paying attention, but the scene playing on repeat in his head
was not what he wanted to be distracted by. And he had to tutor Cecil that
afternoon, too. Fuck.
"If you’re not feeling well, Mr. Garcia, go to the nurse," Mr. Midorikawa
finally sighed. "Go. Now. This won’t affect your attendance."
Carlos packed his things and left. The nurse just pointed to an empty cot for
him to lie down on and left him alone after giving him some painkillers. He lay
there and hated himself until the bell rang, trudged his way to his last class,
and was sent right back after he’d turned in his homework. He was miserable. He
hadn’t thought Cecil would be the type to have sex at school. The way Mike had
treated him seemed downright abusive. Carlos knew some people liked rough sex,
but he couldn’t imagine being that rough with someone -- certainly not someone
as sweet and delicate as Cecil. Maybe it was how Cecil was dealing with his
mother’s death. Carlos didn’t think he could look at the boy again after this -
- not today, at least. But he needed the money. But the look on Cecil’s face as
he’d serviced Mike, the way his head had fallen back and his lips had parted as
Mike had fucked him …
"You look terrible. Want to call off for today?"
Carlos groaned, his face buried in the cot’s flat pillow. He shook his head.
"Well, don’t get me sick. Are you coming?" Pushing himself up, Carlos wondered
how many of Cecil’s various tardies had been due to him sneaking off to have
sex. Judging by the familiarity of Cecil’s general air, a lot of them were.
Cecil was watching him as they walked out of the school. Carlos was trying not
to act as flustered as he felt. "You need a girlfriend," he finally commented,
staring up at the sky.
"What?"
"You. Need. A. Girlfriend. Look at you. I know sexual frustration when I see
it, and you’re it. Get laid. You’ll feel better."
"I don’t need to get laid," Carlos snapped. "Leave me alone."
They didn’t talk after that, unless it pertained to school. Finally, though,
Cecil propped his chin in his hands and sighed. They’d been working for two
hours, after Cecil had showered. “Want to tell me why you’re mad at me?”
Carlos glared at him. “I’m not mad at you.”
"Bullshit. You’re fucking pissed at me, Carlos, and I’d like to know why." When
Carlos didn’t reply, Cecil narrowed his dark eyes and let out a slow breath.
"Ok. Let me take a guess. You left your textbook in the locker room," and
Carlos looked at him in guilty shock, "aaaaand you went back to get it, say,
around fifth period." Cecil tapped his chin as he watched Carlos carefully.
"And you came across something that really upset you. Something that was, might
I add, absolutely none of your business." He leaned back, hands folded behind
his head, and just watched Carlos. "So go ahead. Yell at me. Tell me how wrong
and awful I am. But whatever you do, stop being so pissy."
"You’re not awful," Carlos snapped as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I
don’t think you’re awful." He shoved himself up and paced around the small
trailer, gesturing wildly in frustration. "I think you’re a fucking idiot for
doing that shit in public, at school, where you could get caught."
Cecil kicked his legs up on the table, completely unconcerned. “Oh, do go on.”
Carlos whipped around. "Why, Cecil?! Why would you let him call you those
things? Why would you let him … he made you … He wasn't gentle!” he finally
wailed. Cecil let his head fall back, watching Carlos’ distress with a bored
expression. “You let your father hit you, you let Mike … treat you like that,
you, you …” Carlos knelt by his friend and grabbed two fistfuls of his skirt,
tears running down his face as Cecil watched him blankly. “Why, Cecil? Why?!”
He knelt there, chest heaving, staring up at Cecil. Cecil looked up at the
ceiling for a few moments before dropping one hand into Carlos’ hair, gently
massaging through his curls. Carlos flinched, but waited. As Cecil’s fingers
against his scalp relaxed him, he gradually calmed down, his sobs easing into
sniffles and his tears drying slowly. Finally, he lowered his head and rested
it against Cecil’s thigh, staring dully at the ruffles on his skirt.
Only then did Cecil speak. His voice was calm and low, soothing. “My
relationship with my father has nothing to do with my sexual proclivities.
Nothing.” His grip on Carlos’ hair tightened until Carlos sucked in his breath,
then relaxed. “I do not want to have to say that again. Is that clear?” Carlos
nodded. Cecil’s voice warmed just slightly. “Good. Now, who is in charge,
here?”
"What?" Carlos tried to look up, but Cecil’s grip tightened and he stopped
resisting. Cecil was quiet, waiting. "… You?" he guessed.
"Good," Cecil murmured. "Who is calm?"
"… You."
"Who is collected?"
Carlos sighed. “You.”
"Who is the sobbing mess on the floor?"
"… Me," Carlos whispered.
"Good." Cecil stroked his hair and Carlos sighed again. "Right now, I am
entirely in control here. You don’t say a word unless I give you permission.
Clear?" Carlos nodded. "Good." His nails raked gently across the back of
Carlos’ neck, and Carlos sucked his breath in and bit his lip gently as it sent
tingles down his spine. "I’m flattered that you care so much about my well-
being, dear Carlos. I truly am. However, you’re failing to take into account
the possibility that I liked how Mike was fucking me. You’re failing to
consider that he was doing exactly what I wanted him to do. You’re not thinking
that I was in complete control of what was happening. Did you hear him call me
a slut?"
There was a sharp tug and Carlos answered him a hurry. “Yes.”
"Aside from it being completely true, did you hear what I told him?"
"Yes."
"What did I tell him?"
Carlos was hard at the memory and squeezed his eyes shut. "He was the one who
begged for it,” he whispered.
"That’s right," Cecil murmured warmly. He sounded proud of Carlos. "And that’s
because I decide who fucks me, I decide how, and I decide when and where we
fuck. I am in control of everyone I fuck. You, beautiful, wonderful Carlos,
have no idea what you walked in on. And you didn’t bother asking before you
jumped to severely misguided conclusions. Well-intentioned conclusions, but
misguided nonetheless. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Are you sorry you peeped?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to jump to conclusions again?"
"No."
"Are you going to tattle?"
"No."
"Confront Mike?"
"No."
"Did it turn you on?"
"Yes."
Carlos pulled back in shock at his own admission and that pulled Cecil off the
chair and down with him. He ended up straddling Carlos’ hips and sighing in
pleased surprise, shifting firmly against Carlos’ erection.
"Oh, God, Carlos …"
"Cecil, no --"
Carlos struggled to sit up and Cecil shifted back, but they tipped over and
then their mouths were on each other and their hands were grasping at hair and
shoulders and hips and clothes and Carlos loved -- loved -- the feeling of
Cecil between his legs, rocking against him, his hands pushing Carlos’ shirt up
and off, Carlos’ own hands grasping Cecil’s upper thighs and lace-covered rear
and pulling them hard against each other, gasping as Cecil bit his neck and
then sucked on it.
Cecil rolled them over so that Carlos was on top and he sat up, Cecil’s fingers
digging into his chest and probably leaving red marks, suddenly unsure as Cecil
watched him with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. They looked at each
other for a long moment before Cecil spoke. His voice was as rough as gravel.
"If you want to keep going, then keep going."
Carlos’ brain was catching up with him and he crossed his arms over his chest
self-consciously. Cecil, who had been toying with his nipples and making his
back arch, immediately dropped his hands to Carlos’ thighs as he waited.
Finally he sighed.
"Have you and Maria had sex yet?"
"N, no." Carlos was still trying to figure out what to do, how they’d ended up
like this, and if he should really be rocking even gently against Cecil’s
erection.
"Have you done anything with her?" Carlos nodded once. Cecil took a deep
breath. "What did you do? Did you enjoy it, like this?"
"I, I’m not --"
"Not gay, I know." Cecil nodded and the frustration with Carlos’ sexual
confusion he must have been feeling wasn’t showing. He was, in fact, smiling
just slightly. "Neither is Mike. None of the guys I fuck are gay. They’re all
straight as arrows. I’m just a couple of willing holes that can pass for a
girl. Look at me. I’m very pretty." He may or may not have been mocking Carlos.
He sat up and leaned forward, kissing Carlos firmly. Carlos didn’t kiss him
back, but he didn’t pull away, either, and when Cecil did, he kissed right
below Carlos’ ear and whispered, "Let me blow you, Carlos." Carlos bit back a
whine and tensed. Shivers ran down his body and Cecil kissed him again. "Let me
suck you off. It doesn’t mean you’re gay. It means you need it and I’m willing.
Nothing else -- just my mouth, your dick, your orgasm." Cecil was kissing along
his neck and jaw and Carlos curled his fingers into his hair as his hips
reflexively jerked forward.
"Oh, God …" Cecil was sucking on his earlobe and Carlos groaned, hands
clutching at his back.
"Please, Carlos. Let me do something for you. You need it."
Carlos didn’t answer, just gripped Cecil’s back and hair, buried his face in
Cecil’s neck, and rocked tentatively, consciously, against him. Cecil’s breath
hitched and he placed one hand on the small of Carlos’ back, the other in his
hair. He wasn’t pushing Carlos -- he just rested his hands on him and continued
to gently kiss and bite his neck, letting Carlos set his own pace.
They rocked against one another for a few minutes before Cecil, again,
whispered shakily in Carlos’ ear. “I want to blow you so bad.”
Carlos pressed his lips to Cecil’s, hoping to shut him up, but the touch of
their tongues sent shocks through him and he pulled away with a gasp, and
instead of running out the door in a logical manner, he nodded. “Please,” he
whispered.
Cecil kissed him again, hard, before pushing him up as he grinned. He grabbed
Carlos’ belt loops and pulled him close, biting his lower lip and then sucking
on it as he guided Carlos backward to his bedroom. He was undoing Carlos’ belt
before the door was even closed. Carlos started to tighten his arms around
Cecil’s waist, but Cecil hit his knees smoothly, pulling Carlos’ pants and
boxers down with one hand while the other moved Carlos’ grasping hands to his
hair. Carlos almost cried when Cecil grasped his erection firmly, kissing from
the tip to the base and then licking his way back up. His hips jerked forward
and Cecil chuckled, squeezing as he looked up at Carlos with heavy eyes and
parted lips.
"What do you want?" he whispered.
His breath was hot on Carlos’ flesh. Carlos tilted his head back as he
shuddered. Where to start? “I don’t know.”
"Mmm …" Something cool touched him and Carlos looked down, but it was only
Cecil unrolling a condom onto him. He looked up at Carlos with a grin. "Tell me
when you want me to stop."
Then he took Carlos into his mouth and Carlos’ knees almost buckled. The
pressure of Cecil’s lips and tongue, the occasional scrape of his teeth, the
warmth of his mouth, the way he used his hands … It was better than every dream
about it that Carlos had had, and he was a groaning mess in moments, shoving
one hand into his mouth to keep quiet. That just let him hear Cecil’s own moans
of pleasure, and it was only when he looked down again that he realized Cecil
was holding still, hands gripping Carlos’ rear tightly as Carlos thrust into
his mouth.
Mike had treated him the same way and Carlos gasped. “Cecil, no, I --”
Cecil immediately pulled back, dropping his hands to the backs of Carlos’
knees. “Do you want to stop?” He was panting, eyes unfocused and mouth halfway
open as his lips trembled.
"I need to sit. Mike --"
"Cecil, actually, but call me whatever gets your dick back in my mouth," Cecil
replied as he turned Carlos around and pushed him onto the bed. He knelt
between Carlos’ legs, resting Carlos’ knees over his shoulders as he smiled.
"Are we good, now?" Carlos covered his eyes with one hand as he nodded,
reaching down with his other hand to run his fingers gently through Cecil’s
hair. "Good. Be as rough as you want. I like the pain." Carlos cried out as
Cecil went back to work. His intention clearly wasn’t to get Carlos off as
quickly as possible. He would get him close, then back off, even to the point
of kissing along Carlos’ inner thighs and whispering about how much he loved
Carlos’ cock, sometimes biting the tender skin gently. It wasn’t until Carlos
was begging, pulling Cecil’s head down almost as hard as he could while
thrusting up into Cecil’s mouth, that Cecil let him over the edge.
Carlos’ back arched off the bed as he shouted. Cecil held his hips, still
working at him even as his mind started calming. The consistent pressure sent
extra shocks through his system and he panted and shook with each one. Cecil
hummed lightly when Carlos finally started going limp and slid up next to him,
holding him tightly and kissing his temple as he gently ran his hands over
Carlos’ body. Carlos sighed and stared up at the ceiling with one arm around
Cecil’s shoulders, trying not to cry as a lifetime of guilt came crashing over
him. Don’t have premarital sex. Don’t be gay. Being gay was the worst thing a
person could be, the worst thing he could do to his parents. He was going to
Hell and he wasn’t even sure Hell existed.
"Shh, shh, you’re ok," Cecil whispered lovingly in his ear. "You’re wonderful.
Beautiful. gorgeous. Amazing. You did fantastic, sweetie. You did awesome. I’m
proud of you." He punctuated his soothing words with kisses and caresses, and
after a few minutes Carlos finally calmed down, exhausted as he lay in Cecil’s
arms. Cecil managed to get a blanket over them and continued to touch Carlos
gently. After some time of silence, he stroked Carlos’ cheek lightly. "Are you
ok?"
Carlos nodded, eyes closed. Cecil kissed his cheek.
"Are you ok with what just happened?" Carlos shrugged, and Cecil suddenly
sounded concerned. "Carlos. Hey." He tilted Carlos’ head up. "Look at me,
please. Carlos." He finally opened his eyes and Cecil was frowning slightly,
purple lipstick smeared. Any other time, it would have made Carlos laugh.
"Honey, did I do anything you didn't want me to do?" Carlos shook his head and
the tension in Cecil’s body eased slightly. "Ok. Did you like everything that I
did?" Carlos had to look away as he nodded. "Ok. You wanted me to do what I
did. You liked it." He was quiet as he thought, then, "Is this a religious
thing?" Carlos heaved a sigh and nodded, and Cecil sighed in return. "Ok. The
sex part, the sex with a guy part, or both?"
"… Both."
"Look, honey … you’re on your own with the sex part, but as for it being with a
guy, a guy sucking your dick doesn’t make you gay. You sucking someone else's
dick doesn’t make you gay. Fucking doesn’t make you gay, no matter which of you
is sticking it in. Your body reacts to stimulation. That’s all this was. You
couldn’t wait until you could bang Maria, and I was convenient. I’m always
convenient," he said in a lower vice, placing a finger on Carlos’ lips to keep
him quiet as he looked up, "and I like it that way. If a guy’s got a need, I’m
there for him, no questions asked. All I require is the use of condoms. Hell, a
couple of girls have snuck in there, too." He gently stroked Carlos’ hair. "Ok?
You’re not gay. I’m just easy."
"You always talk badly about yourself," Carlos protested faintly.
Cecil laughed and kissed his nose. “When? When I call myself easy? Convenient?
A slut? When did I say that I thought those were bad things? I’m not ashamed. I
like sex. I get to have a lot of it. I’ve pretty much got my pick of partners.
Why would consensual sex be a bad thing?”
"It is if you’re Catholic." But he had a point, and Carlos sat up as Cecil
watched him, hair mussed beyond all belief. He looked amazing, and Carlos
looked away. "I … can I shower?"
"Sure."
Carlos escaped, leaving his pants and boxers on the floor, and when he was done
with his shower Cecil was back at the kitchen table, Carlos’ shirt draped over
a chair, going over his notes. Carlos pulled his shirt on and sat down
awkwardly.
Cecil smiled at him. “Ok, so, mixing these two chemicals here …”
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
     So go follow it because it's amazing. :D :D :D
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     If you paid for White Flag illustrations, please contact me
     immediately.
     There's, uhm ... more smut.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Maria’s lips were as soft as Cecil’s. Her breasts were also soft, and her bra
was pretty. Carlos was still fascinated by her breasts, and she definitely
enjoyed him playing with them. They’d gone out after Mr. Palmer had dropped him
off, and had gotten back late; now they were sitting on his bed with Maria in
his lap, her shirt and pretty bra on the floor as she guided Carlos’ mouth from
hers to her breasts. She’d offered to touch him, but he’d insisted that he just
wanted to concentrate on her, learn what made her happy.
Maria had almost tackled him when he’d said that. Carlos had been glad to
follow her directions, hoping to enjoy Maria as much as he’d enjoyed Cecil. She
took one of his hands and moved it between her legs, pressing his fingers
against her damp panties. Carlos followed her lead and broke their kiss to
watch her. She seemed to be less able to be quiet than Cecil or even himself,
but her cries and moans varied in pitch and rhythm, letting Carlos know what
she liked most, and she really liked it when he slid his fingers under her
panties and rubbed his knuckle up and down until he brushed against her clit.
Then she cried out so loudly that Carlos jumped and covered her mouth with his
free hand, looking at his closed door with concern.
"Shh," he warned her. "My parents are still up."
"Fuck," was her reply as she ground against him. Carlos giggled. Maria laughed,
then turned so she could lay on her back and pulled him down next to her. "Keep
going," she whispered. "You’re doing great. Kiss me."
So Carlos did. He kissed her, and he touched her, and he slid his fingers into
her when she wanted him to, and while it was a very educational experience, it
did absolutely nothing for him on a mental or emotional level. Physically, it
did, and Carlos was certain that that had nothing to do with comparing this
experience to Cecil.
Maria finally pulled his hand away and slid her panties off before she
straddled his hips, unbuttoning his flannel shirt as she squirmed against him
with a grin. “Wanna fuck?”
Carlos shrugged. “Ok.” He swallowed and sat up to take his shirt off. “Uhm …
I’ve never …”
Maria had gotten his pants undone and laughed. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s ok -
- I’ll do all the work. Do you have condoms?”
"In the bottom drawer." He pointed to his desk.
"Good. Take your pants off."
He did, pulling his comforter over himself as she found the condom packs and
raised an eyebrow. “We have your dad to thank for the supply?” Carlos nodded.
“I thought so. Do you know how to put a condom on?” He shook his head and she
sighed. “Ok. Come here. Open this.”
She got back in his lap and kissed him again, reaching between them and
stroking him until he’d gotten the condom open. He was panting by that time,
and Maria carefully showed him how to unroll the condom onto his erection, then
pushed him back until he was laying down. Carlos held still as she guided him
into her and sank down onto him with a soft moan. He kissed her when she leaned
down, sliding his hands over the curves of her body as she started to rock
against him.
"Are you ok?" she whispered.
"Y, yeah." It felt weird. "Do you want me to do anything?"
"I’ll let you know."
So Carlos continued to do as he was told, touching and kissing her when and
where she wanted him to, rolling over when she wanted him on top, and imagining
the teasing Cecil would put him through if he’d seen how awkward Carlos was. He
wondered what it would be like to be looking down at Cecil from this angle, to
have Cecil’s legs around his waist, Cecil’s arms around his back, to be pushing
into Cecil’s body.
It was the wrong thing to think. Carlos could suddenly think of nothing but
that afternoon, not just of Cecil and Mike but of Cecil’s large brown eyes
staring up at him, of the way his mouth and hands had felt, the sounds he’d
made …
Carlos came with a groan, face buried in the crook of Maria’s neck as she
whimpered and dragged her nails down his back. He pulled back and kissed her
before she pushed at his shoulders. He sat up, looking down at himself, still
inside her, and she snapped her fingers by her hips.
"Eat me," she ordered shakily. Carlos looked at her in confusion and she rolled
her eyes. "Lick me. Put your face between my legs and lick my clit until I
come. Now."
Carlos didn’t waste any more time, sliding down the bed and getting right to
work. He knew what she’d liked with his fingers, and tried to imitate that with
his tongue, following every order she gave until she was crying out so loudly
that Carlos was sure his parents were going to burst in. He didn’t like the way
she tasted and his jaw was getting sore, so he experimented and slid a finger
inside of her. Maria almost screamed and grabbed his hair tightly, raising her
hips up and pushing his head down, begging for more. Carlos obliged, and by the
third finger pressing into her, Maria was shaking and whining as she orgasmed.
The way her muscles tightened around his fingers was fascinating, and Carlos
didn’t pull away until she pushed at him.
"Oh, God," she groaned as he slid up next to her. "Oh, God."
Carlos held her like Cecil had held him, and let her wipe his mouth with his
blanket. He made sure they were both covered, then made a face and reached down
to remove his condom. He tossed it into the trash beside his bed, then settled
back down. Maria sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, running her free
hand over his chest.
"Well, how did you like it? You lasted longer than I thought you would."
"Uh, thanks? It was nice. Did you … was I …"
"You’re such a bad liar," Maria laughed before kissing his neck. "You can use
some work, but yeah, you were good. I like that you’ll take directions and not
argue."
"I’m not lying," Carlos protested.
That made her snort. “Carlos, there’s ‘nervous virgin who doesn’t know what to
do but still wants it,’ and then there’s you. I’m surprised you even got it
up.” She leaned up to kiss his nose. “But ok, I’ll believe you. I liked it, you
liked it enough, we’re good. Just make sure that your girl always comes before
you, and if she doesn’t, go down on her until she does. Don’t even hesitate.”
Carlos nodded. “Good. You learn to go down on a girl right and you may never
have to fuck another one in your life, and the fact that that interests you
does nothing to convince me that you’re straight. Good thing I'm not the one
you need to convince. Don’t worry, hon. Your parents will stop worrying about
your sexuality.”
"They never had anything to worry about," Carlos said testily, "… but thank
you."
She kissed his neck, from right below his ear to the hollow of his throat, and
hummed. “Don’t mention it. Come on, let’s shower. We don’t have to fuck again
if you don’t want to.”
She got up and pulled him out of bed. Carlos shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
Maria laughed and knelt to grab another condom. “Yep. Definitely not what a
straight guy would say.”
~~~~~
Maria was sitting at the kitchen island while Carlos made them breakfast when
his parents came down the next morning. She was laughing as she teased him
about how poofy his hair had gotten, and greeted his parents brightly.
"Good morning! We studied late, so I made Carlos sleep on the floor and I took
the bed. It was about two before we realized how late it was. I’m so sorry
about that."
"Here we go." Carlos turned around and brought the skillet over, dishing some
out for himself and Maria. She tilted her head up as she thanked him and he
kissed her.
"Good," she whispered when he pulled back.
He didn’t quite meet his parents’ eyes. “I made enough for everyone.”
"How sweet," his mother said flatly. "Go wake up your sisters."
Carlos set the skillet down and went, and his father followed him, stopping him
halfway up the stairs and turning him around. He was scowling. “Don’t you dare
get her pregnant, Carlos.”
Carlos groaned. "Dad, I --"
His father grabbed his arm tightly. “Shut up. Listen. Don't get her pregnant,
because if you do, you will marry her and you will support her and the child
and that will ruin your chances of getting a good education. Do you
understand?”
Carlos pulled away and scowled. “I was fine with not dating, Dad. If you and
Mom hadn’t thrown her at me, Maria and I wouldn’t even know each other. I’m not
going to knock her up. Thanks for the condoms.” He walked off and woke his
sisters up, then herded the sleepy girls down to breakfast.
Maria was friendly right up until they got in her car to take Carlos to work.
Then she rolled her eyes and made a face. “Please don’t leave me alone to get
blowjob advice from your mother ever again.”
"Did she threaten to make you marry me if you got pregnant? Dad was adamant."
"She did. Don’t worry -- I’m on the Pill, and we will always use condoms.
Always. And if something does go wrong, well, Daddy’s insurance covers
abortions and he doesn’t want me to have a kid, either, so we’re safe in any
case."
Carlos looked at her sharply, then nodded. “Good.”
"Let’s go out tonight. I want to see a movie. I’ll pay."
"I don’t want to use you for your money," Carlos protested.
Maria laughed. “Oh, honey. Your mom’s been putting extra money in your account
so you can take care of me like a real man. Besides, it’s not going to do me
any harm. I’m getting good sex out of the deal. I think we’re even.”
"Great, so I’m a prostitute, now."
They pulled into the construction site and Maria leaned over and kissed him.
“Just think of yourself as a kept man.” Carlos laughed and got out. “See you
tonight!”
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     Cecil and Maria meet.
Chapter Notes
     Art by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
They were at Big Rico’s, waiting for their pizza, when Maria’s eyes widened.
“Wow. That’s one confident kid.”
             [http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb264/LarissaFae/
                    chapter008daaAAAAaaaaaadddduhPAID.jpg]
Carlos turned and went cold, then hot, as Cecil waltzed in the door. His neon
yellow and green cropped shirt fell off of one shoulder, showing off a hot pink
bra strap, and his oversized cargo pants were loosely held up by a rainbow
belt, slouching low enough on his hips to reveal both the trail of dark hair
that started just below his belly and the tops of panties that matched his bra.
He was laughing, ignoring the stares and silence, and then his father walked
in, in uniform and with a scowl, and everyone found something better to do.
Neither seemed to notice. Cecil was chatting away, then turned expectantly to
his father. Mr. Palmer wasn't paying any attention; he just looked right over
Cecil's head -- an easy feat, considering he towered a good foot or more over
his son.
"Dad! Dad, are you listening?" Mr. Palmer looked around at that, but not down,
then shrugged a bit. Cecil stamped his foot and clung to his father's arm,
trying to get his attention, but Mr. Palmer never looked at him. "Daaaaaaaaad!
Stop ignoring meee!" Cecil huffed as Carlos swore he saw Mr. Palmer's lips
twitch. "I know you can hear me! I'm not that short! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!"
Carlos laughed despite himself, and, in a fit of apparent insanity, waved them
over. “That’s Cecil and his dad.” Cecil’s face lit up and he pulled his father
over to them.
"Carlos! How are you? Is this Maria? Hi, I’m Cecil. This is Daryl, my dad. Wow,
you’re gorgeous. Can we join you?" He slid in next to Maria and beamed at her,
his speech a bit garbled. "No, really. You are stunning."
Maria was blushing as Carlos made room for Mr. Palmer. “You didn’t say he was
charming, Carlos. Or good-looking. Yeah, I’m Maria. I’m the one keeping Carlos
straight.”
She and Cecil laughed as Carlos flushed. “Oh, sweetie, believe me, I’ve tried
to turn him. It’s just not possible. Wow. Can I play with your hair?”
"I’ll get the pizza," Mr. Palmer rumbled as he stood up.
"Love you, Dad!" Cecil called out after him. He turned and his new lower lip
ring caught the light, giving the reason for his speech being off.
"Of course," Maria answered him. "I love my hair being played with."
"So do I," Cecil crooned as he turned back and sank his fingers into her wavy
hair. He didn’t look at Carlos, but the way Carlos started and flushed, he may
as well have announced the previous afternoon’s activities to the entire
building. "Oh, wow. Let’s have babies. We’d have beautiful babies, and they’d
be smart, too. Carlos told me you’re very smart."
"Carlos knows what to say to keep me in his bed," Maria laughed, and they both
looked at him with smiles.
Carlos covered his face. “Can we please keep some things private?”
"I’m glad he’s a good boyfriend."
"Aren’t you not allowed off the reservation after dark?" Carlos asked quickly.
He didn’t know if Cecil was upset with him for how he’d reacted after … after,
and didn’t want to remind him and give him the chance to get angry.
"Pfffft." Cecil shrugged, holding his hands palms-up. "We’re staying in a hotel
tonight. Early birthday present. It’s great. See my new piercing? Are we
interrupting a date?"
"Yeah, but it’s ok." Cecil draped an arm around Maria’s shoulders, and she
looked him up and down. "Wow. I'd tap you if I was a guy, gay or not."
Cecil had shifted into full flirt mode, toying with Maria’s hair and brushing
his fingers across her cheek, his other hand holding hers on the table. He
leaned toward her with a downright sultry smile that Carlos knew well. "Well,”
he murmured, “if Carlos doesn’t mind, that could be arranged. I may be gay, but
I’ve made a few exceptions before. I could do it again.”
They were nearly kissing, and Carlos slid out of the booth. “Look, if you two
want some alone time, just say so. I feel like a third wheel on my own date.”
He stalked off as they laughed at him, and found Mr. Palmer outside, smoking a
cigarette as he waited on his order. He shifted to let Carlos lean against the
wall next to him. “Don’t play that game, Carlos.”
"What game?"
"Cecil tells me everything. Everything." Of-fucking-course he’d told his
father. Carlos pursed his lips and clenched his fists as he tried to stay calm.
Mr. Palmer wasn’t looking at him. "Don’t sleep with both of them if they don’t
both know and don’t both agree to it. I don't care what you two do," he said
sharply, glaring down at Carlos as he tried to say something. "I care that
Cecil didn’t set proper boundaries yesterday, and you didn’t know any better. I
care that Cecil’s let himself believe that you will be like every other boy he
fucks around with. I care that my son is willingly letting himself get hurt
over a boy who has no clue what he wants. I told you before -- if you’re not
interested, tell him. If you are interested, tell him. And now let me add
this." Mr. Palmer put both hands on Carlos’ shoulders and leaned down to look
him in the eyes. "If you are confused as to what you want -- and you are -
- then figure it out away from Cecil and come back when you know. Cecil doesn’t
need your sexual confusion."
Carlos shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not gay.”
"Bullshit." Mr. Palmer squeezed his shoulders so tightly that Carlos cried out
in pain. "You and I both know that that is bullshit. Do not hurt my son any
more with your inability to stand up to your parents and your religious
upbringing."
He turned and stormed back in to Big Rico’s and Carlos started swearing as soon
as the door shut. He rubbed his shoulders and kicked at the ground, shaking
with anger. He was angry at Cecil for telling his father, but at the same time
he should have known that it would happen. He was angry at Cecil for doing
exactly what he’d wanted him to do, what he’d asked for. He was angry at
himself for wanting it in the first place. He was angry that he’d had to think
about Cecil in order to enjoy sex with Maria. He was angry at his parents for
pushing her on him.
At least she and Cecil were getting along.
Panic flooded his chest at the thought, and what they could be discussing, and
Carlos ran back in to find them chatting as Mr. Palmer read the book that
Carlos had bought for him. Both pizzas were on the table. Carlos sat back down
and forced a smile.
"Welcome back." Maria pushed a slice at him and he took it. "You ok, honey?"
He nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
"We’re going to have, like, ten kids," Cecil informed him cheerfully. "You and
Maria will get good-paying research jobs, and I’ll stay home with the babies."
"Why am I supporting your kids?"
"Because there’s going to be ten of them," Cecil explained, "and you’re going
to marry Maria. Your parents will think they’re yours."
Carlos pursed his lips. “Not when they come out half-Native American.”
Maria waved him off. “They’ll be so happy to have grandkids, they won’t even
notice.”
"I think you’re both crazy." A foot brushed against his and he frowned. Both of
them just smiled. Another foot brushed against his calf. He tucked his feet
under the booth seat and their smiles got bigger.
"It’s possible for twins to have separate fathers," Maria informed him. "As
long as one looks like you, they’ll just blame Cecil’s on genetics. They’ll
trust us. We’ll be scientists by then."
"We’re sixteen," Carlos protested. "Talk to me in ten years. Better yet, don’t.
I don’t want kids."
"You're sixteen," Maria corrected him. "Cecil and I are seventeen -- or close
enough. And I’m not waiting ten years to have kids."
"Good luck, then. I’m not having any part of it."
"He’s so easy to get flustered," Maria giggled.
Cecil nodded. "So easy.”
"Are you going to prom?" she asked.
Cecil nodded. “Yeah. Vithya said she’d go with me.”
Carlos frowned. “The exchange student? She’s a girl.”
Cecil gave a patient sigh. “I know, honey. We were hanging out and I tripped
face-first into her crotch. Figured I’d have a snack while I was down there,
then figured I could at least take her to prom in return.”
The horrified expression on Maria’s face as she looked from Cecil to his father
made Carlos grin. It was petty, yes, but he didn’t care.
"Uhm … you mean …"
Carlos grinned even wider as he watched Maria’s discomfort. “I tripped, fell
into her lap, ate her out, then asked her to prom.” Mr. Palmer sighed and
raised his book a bit.
"You know, my dad pays for my condoms and birth control, but we don’t talk
about it."
Cecil laughed. “Like I told Carlos, Dad can’t stop my slutiness, he can only
make sure I’m a safe slut. I am too a slut,” he said as Carlos started to
speak. “I have a lot of sex with a lot of people. I’m very promiscuous, and I
like it. Stop trying to … do whatever you’re trying to do. Save me from myself
or whatever. It’s not a self-esteem issue, it’s an I-really-love-dicks issue.
Didn’t we talk about this already?”
"Sorry," Carlos mumbled.
They moved on to other topics, and Carlos’ mood gradually improved. Cecil was
extremely witty. He had Carlos and Maria almost in tears before long, retelling
them stories from his radio show and mixing in personal observations on society
and humanity. He had a strong sense of social justice, and it was twenty
minutes in to a conversation on immigration reform that Carlos noticed Maria
was gone. He looked around sharply.
"She’s outside," Mr. Palmer assured him, motioning for Carlos to let him get
up.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. She’s got the car.” Mr. Palmer walked
off and he and Cecil were alone. Carlos was suddenly nervous and cleared his
throat, looking around at everything but Cecil. “Uhm … You told your father.”
"Hmm? Told him what?"
Cecil was going to be difficult. Carlos frowned down at the table. “About
yesterday. What happened.”
"What did happen yesterday?" Cecil asked. "As far as I recall, we studied and
Dad took you home. Did anything else happen?"
He was giving Carlos the opportunity to pretend that nothing had happened, and
Carlos lunged at the chance. “No. Nothing else happened.”
"No," Cecil agreed softly, "it never does. I think Maria wants to go."
Carlos stood. “Yeah. Uh … thanks.”
Cecil nodded, staring at the ceiling. “No problem.”
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Cecil's birthday, and I'd be lying if I said there was no smut
     involved. Also, Ricky and Jose, who are amazing.
Chapter Notes
     Art by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Hey! Hey, kid! Come here!”
Carlos ignored the two heavily-tattooed men sitting outside the Safeway as he
walked in. He may have lived a sheltered life, but he knew gang tattoos when he
saw them, and the two men -- one Latino, one black -- were covered in them. He
hoped they’d be gone by the time he was done. He didn’t want to be pulled into
gang politics, or even be seen talking with a gang member. His mother would
never let him leave his room if she found out.
It was unfortunate, then, that he’d only stopped in to get Cecil a birthday
present. He had no idea what his friend would want, other than Carlos himself
and a lot of lube and condoms to go with him, and he was bad at getting gifts,
anyway. He and his father both were. They tended to give gift cards, on the
basis that the person receiving them was sure to get exactly what they wanted
that way. His mother called them uncivilized and rude. They continued to give
gift cards.
Carlos killed time by buying a soda, first, and drinking it as he stared at the
gift card selection. Cecil didn’t have a computer, much less an iPod, so an
iTunes gift card was out of the question. He’d mentioned he’d always wanted to
go to Gino’s, but Carlos didn’t want to get anything that suggested a date or a
romantic relationship, so a restaurant gift card was likewise crossed off the
list of potential gift cards to get. Cecil liked books, so a bookstore gift
card might be appreciated. Then again, his radio equipment probably needed
work, so …
“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a generic gift card and
heading to the register again. Cecil could buy what he wanted with it. Carlos
didn’t realize until the cashier rung him up and he’d paid that he’d gotten a
hundred dollar gift card. He debated returning it for a cheaper one, but
remembering the look on Cecil’s face when he was able to buy even a magazine or
used book without having to borrow money stopped him. Cecil deserved nice
things. So he just smiled at the cashier and went on his way, stopping dead in
his tracks when the two gang members were waiting for him outside.
The Latino one grabbed his shoulder and held him at arms’ length as he froze in
panic, looking him over with narrowed eyes. “Naw, he’s Mexican.”
His companion stood on Carlos’ other side, and tugged on his hair. “No, look at
this afro, man. He’s black.”
They argued for a few more minutes before Carlos managed a small whimper, sure
he was going to die, at which point the Latino man finally looked at him. “Hey,
calm down, kid. We ain’t hurtin’ you. So, you Mexican or Latino?”
His friend shook his head and pinched Carlos’ nose. “No, you’re black. Right?”
Carlos’ hands were sweaty and he was shaking like a leaf in the breeze, but he
managed to stutter, “I, I’m both.”
Both men stopped arguing and stared at him. “What?” the black one finally spat
out.
“I, I’m both,” Carlos repeated. His voice was more than a little shrill. “I,
uhm, my mom’s family’s from Haiti and Brazil, and my dad’s are from Guatemala
and Mexico. I’m, I’m, I’m --”
They let him go and high-fived each other. “Aw, shit, we were both right,” the
Latino one said. They grinned at him. “What’s your name, kid?”
“C, C, Carlos.”
“Oh, come on, Jose, he thinks we’re gonna kill him. Don’t you?” Carlos squeezed
his eyes shut and gave a few small, quick nods. He got another laugh for his
efforts. “Shit, son, we’re not gonna hurt you. We just wanted to know what you
were. I’m Ricky; this asshole’s Jose.” Carlos let out a breath and started to
relax when they stepped back. “Hey, you’re not a fag, are you?” Then made him
panic all over again and he shook his head quickly, stammering and stuttering
in denial. Ricky sighed and handed Jose a wad of cash. “Well, damn. My cousin’s
a fag.” Carlos’ jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out. “We thought you might hook
up with him if you were, too, you know? You sure you’re not a fag? You sound
like one.”
They weren’t going to kill him. Carlos was still frozen in place, but relief
was slowly making a cautious path through his system. They were looking at him
expectantly and he shook his head again. “I’m sixteen,” was the only reply he
could think of.
“Oh, right.” They nodded like that was the perfect reason for apparently
sounding gay. Ricky pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took two out, handing
one to Jose, and then offered the pack to Carlos. “You smoke?” Carlos shook his
head. “Don’t start. Disgusting habit.” That didn’t stop them from lighting up
anyway. “Damn. Didn’t think it would be this hard to find a guy for Tyrone,
man. I was sure this kid was gay.”
“I’m not gay,” Carlos repeatedly frantically. “Don’t you have anything better
to do that take bets on kids outside of Safeway?!”
He regretted the frustrated, fearful words as soon as they left his mouth, but
Ricky and Jose just started laughing, and Jose spit on the ground. “Shit, kid,
you think we’d be out here if we did? Ricky’s on parole and I’m keeping him out
of trouble. Fucking boring-ass shit, right there. Damn.” They went back to the
display lawn chairs they’d been sitting in, the price tags still hanging off of
them, and Jose blew a smoke ring at Carlos. “We’ve seen you around, kid. You
got some cute sisters. You take real good care of them, it looks like. Where
you go to school?”
“I, I don’t think --”
“Shit, we already said we’re not gonna hurt you,” Ricky snapped. He rolled his
eyes as Carlos jumped. “Kid sees some tattoos and thinks we’re gonna kill him.
Damn.”
“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispered. He was getting light-headed and might have been
starting to hyperventilate.
Ricky just waved him off. “Yeah, whatever. Go on, run home to your mama,
Carlos. See you around.” He turned back to Jose. “So, I’m tellin’ you, there’s
no way she knows it was me. I used cash and paid some kid to drop them off at
her place. You sure this’ll work?”
“Fuck yeah,” Jose replied. “Bitches loves this romantic shit. Trust me.”
“If you say so …”
Carlos didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, because his father had
pulled up and honked to get his attention. He turned and fled to the safety of
their car, leaving Ricky and Jose to argue about how to best impress a woman.
~~~~~
The birthday party was mostly adults. Carlos hadn’t bothered asking his parents
if he could go -- it was Friday, anyway, and by this time they were used to him
having to stay over at Cecil’s. For as worried about his sexuality as they
were, they were surprisingly unbothered by how often he stayed over. The most
they pestered him about it was a few questions about what had gone on, to which
‘studying’ was the only reply he ever gave. And it was mostly true. Mostly.
Carlos spent most days shaking with the effort it took to not lean over and
kiss Cecil, or take his hand, or touch him. If Cecil noticed -- and there was
no way he didn’t notice -- he didn’t say anything.
[http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb264/LarissaFae/chapter009happybdayfriend-
                                  1GIFT.jpg]
Cecil was dancing around the bonfire his father had built, wearing the tiara
and pink and green tutu with bows that he’d been wearing all day. He’d taken
off his matching silk blouse to reveal a sleeveless, see-through purple top as
soon as they’d gotten out of the cruiser. Carlos had helped set up the tiki
torches that surrounded the gathering and kept the darkness at bay. Elder Josie
had shown up with her possibly-mythical-cannibal friend again, and again Erika-
the-maybe-deadly-wendigo stayed in the truck. There was also a young man about
their age there, who stood out even more than Carlos. He had blond hair, blue
eyes, freckles, and nearly paper-white skin, and if Cecil hadn’t been ignoring
him, Carlos would have been bothered by the adoring looks he was giving the
birthday boy. This, apparently, was the Earl that Cecil had been seeing just
for the sex.
"Carlos! Dance with me!" He tried to protest, but Earl was looking like he was
going to offer to dance with Cecil, so Carlos let himself be dragged up. The
music wasn’t a hard beat to follow, and anyway, all he really had to do was put
his arms around Cecil’s waist and maybe twirl him once in a while. He didn’t
necessarily have to hold Cecil so tightly, or sway their hips together, either,
but he did anyway. The food had been good, Cecil had liked the gift card Carlos
had gotten him, the fire was warm, Cecil smelled and looked amazing, and it was
easy, so easy, to forget the adults and Earl, to just exist with Cecil and the
music.
Carlos wasn’t sure how they ended up behind the mobile home, Cecil pressed
tightly between it and Carlos, one leg around his waist, his hands tangling
through Carlos’ hair as they kissed. He was wearing stockings and an honest-to-
God garter belt, a fact Carlos had discovered when he'd slid one hand up
Cecil’s thigh, lifting him up so their hips pressed against each other. It was
one of the most erotic things Carlos had ever encountered -- not that he’d
encountered many, and Cecil accounted for roughly ninety-nine percent of them,
but still. He hiked Cecil’s leg higher on his waist as they rocked against each
other, groaning into Cecil’s mouth. Cecil moved his hands down the back of
Carlos’ pants, squeezing his ass and panting as he kissed down Carlos’ neck. He
bit it firmly and Carlos’ voice cracked as he cried out, pushing harder against
Cecil and sliding his own hands under Cecil’s panties. He was pulling them down
as he messily kissed Cecil again, moving from his mouth to his jaw and down his
neck.
"Oh, God, Carlos, not here, not here, sweetie." Cecil was whispering, shifting
so they could get his panties off, reaching down to grab them before they fell
off his ankle and shoving them into Carlos’ back pocket before pulling at his
belt. He was trembling as much as Carlos was, but that didn’t stop him from
getting Carlos’ pants undone enough to reach in and pull his erection free, and
Carlos made a very undignified, high-pitched noise when he did. He was honestly
expecting another blowjob, but Cecil pulled their hips together again and the
feeling of their erections rubbing against one another made Carlos choke. He
bit Cecil’s throat hard enough for Cecil to cry out in actual pain and push his
head away, but it was just enough to kiss him again. Carlos let his hands
wander over Cecil’s body, over his chest and around to the small of his back,
holding him up against the side of the mobile home, finding a steady, if
hurried, rhythm. Cecil’s breath huffed with each thrust, and his kisses got
longer and deeper, until it felt like he might just swallow Carlos whole.
"Oh, God." Carlos’s knees almost buckled as he came, with Cecil following him
with a soft keen, nails dragging down his back and sure to leave welts that
Carlos was going to have a hell of a time explaining to Maria. He let Cecil
down and they clung to each other for a while, wobbly-kneed, until they
regained their balance and had caught their breath. Then Carlos looked down at
the messes they’d made on Cecil’s admittedly very pretty tutu and swore softly.
"Shit. I’m sorry, I --"
He was kissed, which shut him up, and Cecil’s smile was lazy and smug. “Leave
it.” His voice had dipped down low, which always made Carlos’ stomach flutter.
He nuzzled Carlos’ neck with a contented sigh. “No one will notice. I like --”
He stopped himself and laughed softly, arms still around Carlos. His eyes were
shining strangely bright in the soft light. “Are you ok? With this?”
He’d pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and was wiping Carlos off, redoing
his pants for him. Carlos cleared his throat self-consciously as Cecil’s
touches lingered. “With what?”
"Nothing. Come on, before they come looking for us. It’s light enough, and
people are close enough, but I’d rather not push our luck any further."
He took Carlos’ arm and led him back to the party. Earl was glowering at the
sight of them arm-in-arm but no one else seemed to notice. They were, in fact,
being ignored until Cecil broke into the marshmallows, sitting close enough to
Carlos that their thighs touched. That may have gotten slightly narrowed eyes
from Mr. Palmer, but he seemed content to let them be. Earl kept trying to get
Cecil to talk to him, but while Cecil wasn’t rude, exactly, it was very clear
that he wasn’t interested. Which was a pity, Carlos thought. Not that Cecil
wasn’t interested, but that he was willing to ignore Earl to such an extent. He
seemed like a nice guy, and Carlos understood how lovestruck he was. Cecil had
that effect on people.
"Erika’s getting restless," Elder Josie finally stated. That was apparently the
cue for the party to break up. The bonfire had died down, anyway, and it was
well past midnight. Cecil was laying on the bench with his head in Carlos’ lap,
hugging his knees as he drifted in and out of consciousness. "Come on, Duke.
I’ll take you home."
"It’s Earl, Elder Josie," he said as he scrambled up.
Elder Josie shrugged. “All right. Hurry. Good night, Daryl, Carlos.”
Mr. Palmer stood up, closing his book. “Good night, Elder Josie.” Carlos tried
to get Cecil to wake up enough to get inside, but all he got was a muffled
laugh and tighter grip. “Just drag him inside by the foot.” Mr. Palmer reached
down and grabbed Cecil’s ankle.
That made Cecil sit up quickly. “Dad! I’m awake! I’m awake!” He sounded a bit
frantic, which made his father snort with laughter, and Carlos wondered about
it until he got up and tucked his shirt in and his hand brushed against Cecil’s
panties. Then he flushed and was thankful for the dim lighting and his dark
skin. Right. That was why Cecil didn’t want to be dragged around. He licked
suddenly dry lips and shoved the lacy things deeper in his pocket. Just
touching them sent shivers along his fingers and spine. Cecil trudged toward
the trailer. “Come ooooon. I’m tired.”
He didn’t seem tired, though, once they’d gotten in his bed. No, he was very
much awake, giggling in the darkness as he slid his leg over Carlos’ hips and
kissed his neck. His fingers danced along Carlos’ chest as Carlos closed his
eyes and sighed with pleasure. He should have pushed Cecil away, but instead he
pulled him closer, until he was laying on top of Carlos and they were kissing
again. It was slow this time, unhurried. Cecil pressed kisses all over his face
and body, murmuring with delight over everything that Carlos hated about
himself. He was wearing just a short nightgown, and Carlos rested his hands on
Cecil’s hips, pushing the hem up, holding Cecil still as he rocked his hips up.
Cecil was whispering in his ear, soft noises and pleas and endearments. Carlos
was torn between kissing him and letting the praise wash over him and finally
settled for bits of both, sitting up and holding Cecil firmly in his lap,
letting the shorter boy set his own pace, just enjoying the touch and
sensations.
Their pants and gasps were the only sounds in the small room. At one point
Cecil took out two condoms and watched Carlos as they both put them on, then
knelt down between his legs and gave him a leisurely blowjob. Carlos kept his
eyes open for that, watching the bobbing of Cecil’s head and the fall of his
hair, soft moans forcing their way out of his throat at the sensations. It
didn’t last for very long. Soon enough Cecil was kissing up his stomach and
chest and crawling back into his lap, his lips never leaving Carlos’ skin as he
took both their erections in one hand and jerked them both off. Carlos held him
tightly through it, and when they were both spent, breathing heavily, pulled
them both back under the covers and held Cecil tightly until they both fell
asleep.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     A nice day with the girls.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Are you ok, mijo?"
His mother put her hand against his forehead and Carlos leaned away irritably.
"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine."
"Why don't you eat more?" She frowned at him, not just because he wasn't
eating, but also because of his general attitude the past few weeks, he knew.
He was grouchy and irritable with everyone, more prone to arguing and talking
back -- things he'd never done before. Both of his parents were concerned.
"You've hardly touched your food."
He stared down at his plate, shoulders hunched. "I'm not hungry." Anita and
Alonsa started fighting over who got the last bread roll and Carlos stood up
quickly, before he yelled at them. "I'm just ... I'm going to bed, ok?" Then he
hurried out of the dining room.
"Carlos!"
He ignored her, thankful that his father was working late and wasn't there to
yell at him. He flopped into bed and stared up at the ceiling. This thing with
Cecil was getting out of hand. Carlos could barely concentrate on his school
work, and was positive that he flushed with every mention of his friend. He
wanted to hit Mike every time he saw him. He wanted to yell at Cecil for being
around other guys. He'd snapped at Maria earlier, when she'd run her hand down
his back. The scratches from Cecil's birthday were still there, and every
reminder of them threw Carlos' emotions for a loop. Sometimes he hated Cecil.
Sometimes he thought he was in love with the boy. Sometimes he never wanted to
see Cecil again, and sometimes the need to just be in his arms was so great, it
was only Carlos' lack of a car that kept him from going to Cecil's house and
refusing to let him go.
He was on the verge of crying himself to sleep from sheer frustration when his
door creaked open. There was a small giggle, then the foot of his bed dented in
as one of the girls crawled up. Carols bit back his shaky gasps, and then there
was another girl right by his head, picking up the covers to crawl under them.
Someone else got in by his feet, and three squirming bodies trying to get in
with him, get comfortable, and not wake him up made Carlos laugh quietly. He
shifted onto his side to give them more room, and pulled -- curly hair and size
said baby Anita -- close, tucking her head under his chin. One of the others
curled up at his back, and then he was pushed down so the last girl could lay
across his pillow.
He laughed again, which prompted giggles from the girls. Then Alonsa whispered,
"Can we make a fort?"
"I love forts," he whispered back. He sat up delicately, trying not to squish
anyone. "Lenora, get the blankets and pillows from the hall closet. Don't wake
anyone up. Come on, you two. Help me get my bed clear."
Alonsa and Anita helped him strip his bed to just the fitted bottom sheet. When
Lenora got back, dragging blankets behind her, he quietly gave them directions
and helped them position the pillows around the edges of his bed until they'd
gotten the optimal design for a fort in place. It took a while -- Anita was
three, after all, and not the most coordinated. Still, eventually they tucked
the last blanket into place and admired their work for a moment.
"You did so good," Carlos told them. "Look at that! It's the best fort in the
world."
Lenora crawled inside. "It's so big!"
Carlos helped the younger two in, then followed them. "It's so we have more
room. Come on, lay down. We need to go to bed. Ugh, why are you all so smart
and adorable?"
"Magic?" Alonsa guessed.
Carlos chuckled as they settled in. Alonsa and Lenora lay on either side of
him, his arms around them, and Anita lay on his chest. "Yeah. That must be it.
My magical baby girls. I love you all." He kissed their heads as they whispered
that they loved him, too, and eventually they all drifted off to sleep.
He slept well -- something that hadn't happened in a while, between extra
school work, his job, and Cecil. Carlos just lounged for a while when he
finally woke up, enjoying the warmth and closeness of his sisters. They hadn't
spent much time together recently, and the sound of rain on his window made him
smile. Rain meant no work. No work meant he just might be able to take the
girls to a movie, or Chuck E. Cheese's. They'd like that.
"Hey," he whispered when he felt them moving around and waking up. "Who wants
to see a movie?" The speed at which all three sat up made the fort tumble
around them, and Carlos laughed as they were buried beneath blankets and
pillows. "Oh, no! We're trapped! We'll never survive!"
"Nooooo," Alonsa cried. "We'll freeze to death!"
"Our food supplies are low," Lenora sighed. "We'll have to start eating
someone."
Carlos guffawed at her matter-of-fact tone of voice, and pinched her cheek.
"You're pretty meaty. We should eat you, first."
"No!" she protested. "Eat Anita first! She's small and useless!"
Anita hugged him tightly in alarm. "Don't eat me," she begged.
"Yeah, but she doesn't have much meat on her bones," Carlos reasoned as he
hugged his youngest sister protectively. "What about Alonsa? Can we eat you,
Alonsa?"
"I'm an abomamamal snowman! You can't eat me! I'm going to eat you!" She
snarled and growled and gnashed her teeth as Lenora and Anita squealed in mock-
terror and Carlos laughed. There was a short scuffle under the covers as the
snowman stalked her prey, and it ended when Carlos fell backward out of bed,
Lenora on top of him, with Alonsa and Anita tumbling after them. "I broke my
snowman!"
His door opened as he laughed, and they looked up at their scowling mother.
"What is going on in here?"
"We're gonna see a movie, Mama!" Alonsa chirped.
Carlos got raised eyebrows and grinned. "Uh, I won't have work today. It's
raining. I thought I could take the girls out, give you and Dad some alone time
..."
His mother frowned as her daughters got up and swarmed around her, begging and
pleading. She finally sighed. "Fine, all right, all right. Take baths and get
dressed, first! And eat some breakfast!"
"Yes, Mama," all four chorused, then Carlos herded them all into his bathroom.
He ran them a bubble bath and helped Alonsa and Anita get undressed, getting
them in the tub before turning his back so Lenora could also get undressed.
She'd been getting more self-conscious about her body, lately. "Are we good?"
he finally asked.
"I want my ducky."
"Ok. Stay here. Lenora, can you wash Anita's hair, please?" She reluctantly
agreed, and Carlos left to get Anita's ducky. He passed Juana on his way back.
She was still half-asleep. "Hey. Want to go see a movie? Mom said it was ok."
She blinked at him as she tried to process that information, then slowly
shuffled forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Carlos hugged her.
"Mmkay."
"Ok. Go wake up."
"Can we stay out all day?" Lenora asked when he got back to the bathroom. They
were playing with each others' hair in the fashion of bathtime stylists
everywhere, and Carlos smiled as he knelt to help Anita wash herself, handing
her the ducky.
"We'll stay out until Mom and Dad want us to come home," he promised.
It turned into a good day despite the rain. By the time they had seen the movie
and were wrapping up at Chuck E. Cheese's, Anita was ready for a nap. No one
else wanted to go home, so it was back to the theater for another movie while
Anita slept in Carlos' lap. They were at the ice cream shop when someone
grabbed Carlos from behind.
"Hey, there's my best friend!"
Carlos turned with a grin. "Marcus! What's up?" He hugged his friend and made
room for him at the table.
Marcus shrugged. "Not much. Hiding from Dad and his new girlfriend. Ugh. Can
you believed he's dating her? She's awful. I hate her. What are you guys up
to?"
"Getting out of the house. We saw a couple of movies, went to Chuck E.
Cheese's, and now we're here."
"Hey," Juana said with a grin as she leaned toward Marcus. "Ten bucks says I
can beat you at Time Crisis."
Marcus narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, no. I learned my lesson last time. I'll
beat you for free, though." Juana snorted and they headed to the line of arcade
games at the back of the shop.
"You're going to be sorry!" Carlos called after them. Ten minutes later Marcus
was storming back to the table as Juana laughed at him. Carlos sipped his
milkshake with a grin. "I told you so."
"Your sister's a cheater. And dresses like a boy."
"You're just a sore loser."
"Shut up and give me your milkshake."
Carlos laughed and pushed it toward Marcus as his phone buzzed. He picked it
up. "Hey, Mom. Want us to come home? Can Marcus come over for dinner?"
"Ugh, that boy. Fine."
"Thanks! We'll be home soon. Love you!" He hung up and stood. "Well, if you
want some of Mom's enchiladas, hurry up."
Marcus got up in a hurry. "You don't have to tell me twice. Thanks."
Carlos shrugged. "I'd rather not be around them without backup these days,
anyway. I think Maria's coming over, too. You can meet her. Just don't hit on
her or I'll deck you."
"It's not my fault all my money drives the girls crazy." Marcus flashed him a
grin as they got in their cars. "See you there!"
"Jerk!" Carlos yelled. Marcus just laughed as he drove off. Carlos laughed,
too, before leaning down to make sure Alonsa and Anita were buckled in.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     Who is best whiney friend? Marcus is best whiney friend.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Maria was sitting on the couch when they got home. She looked up with a tight-
lipped expression, and Carlos took a deep breath before putting Anita down.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he told her. "I was ... It was wrong. I'm sorry."
He stood there and waited. Marcus peeked over his shoulder.
Maria sighed and got up, coming over to hug him. "Don't you ever snap at me
again," she ordered.
Carlos hugged her back and nodded. "Ok. Uhm. This is my friend, Marcus."
She narrowed her eyes at them, as if she thought they were joking. "Marcus."
"Marcus Vansten, rich and at your service." Marcus took her hand and kissed it
with his most charming grin.
He dropped it when she just stared at him, then turned away. "Oh. I've heard
about you. You're a real ass."
Marcus laughed. "Yeah, but I'm rich. So it evens out. She's pretty hot," he
told Carlos.
"And will probably hit you if you don't show her some respect. I'll hold you
down for her."
"I'm sorry, that sounds like more of a good time than a threat."
That made Carlos laugh, and even Maria giggled. "Shut up. My parents are home."
Marcus shrugged. "I'm just saying. Watch how you threaten people. Hey, Mrs.
Garcia!" he called out as they went into the kitchen. Carlos' mother greeted
them with a warm smile and hugged him. He didn't seem to mind his face in her
bosom, only kissed her cheeks when she let him go. "How do you get more
beautiful every time I see you? When are you leaving your husband for me?"
"Hah!" she chortled, waving a spatula at him. "You don't have what it takes."
That was said with a pointed look at his crotch, and Carlos was torn between
howls of laughter and mortification as Marcus stuttered, for once rendered
speechless. "You all wash up. Dinner is almost ready. Did you have a good day,
Carlito? Were the girls good?"
"Yeah," Carlos answered as they washed their hands in the sink. "We had fun.
They were great. Anita got a nap, too."
"Good. You're such a good brother. You're going to be a great father some day.
Don't you think, Maria?"
"Mom," Carlos groaned.
"Sure he will. Just not any time soon." For all her calm words, Maria looked as
stressed as Carlos felt at his mother's not-so-subtle hint. Marcus was still
sulking. "Do you need help?"
"Oh, you're so sweet. You three set the table, thank you."
They escaped to the dining room. "Your mom said I have a small dick," Marcus
whined.
"Stop hitting on her, then. Ugh, she wants grandkids. She's got a three-year-
old! Why doesn't she just have another, if she wants babies?"
"She'd have to take care of it," Maria pointed out. "Not so if it's a grandkid.
Don't worry -- we're not having kids anytime soon."
"At all," Carlos corrected her.
"Right, because Cecil and I are having babies."
"You know that weirdo's gay, right?" Marcus asked.
"That's why I'm dating Carlos. To keep the gay away. So? We can still have
kids. Have you seen Cecil? Our kids would be gorgeous."
"We'd have pretty cute kids, too," he tried, grinning.
Maria huffed. "Sorry, I don't date walking egos."
"Ugh, shot down every which way," Marcus whined.
Maria leaned close to him with a grin. "Well, if it makes you feel better,
Carlos and I may have some moonshine brewing in his closet. Stop being such a
baby and we might share it with you."
"Ho ho hooooo," Marcus chuckled. "I thought you were supposed to be a good
influence on Carlito."
"She's supposed to be an anti-gay influence," Carlos corrected him. "And don't
call me Carlito."
"Yeah, how's that working out?" Marcus asked slyly. Then he ducked the spoon
Carlos threw at him, running to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Garcia as Maria and
Carlos laughed at him.
~~~~~
Marcus was splayed out on the bed when Carlos finished his morning shower. He
was sleeping, nice and warm, until Carlos pulled the covers down and rubbed his
wet hair on his friend's chest.
"Wakey-wakey!" he cackled.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Marcus yelled as he threw his arms out wildly, trying
to fight Carlos off. He managed a good whack to Carlos' chest as he struggled
to sit up, and Carlos just howled with laughter as he fell on his ass. Marcus
glared at him and yanked the covers back up. "What the fuck, you asshole?!"
"It, it's time for church," Carlos giggled as he wiped tears from his eyes.
"Are you coming with us?"
"Will the priest send you to Hell if I tell him what you did?" was the snide
reply.
"Probably not. Come on, Marcus. Father Iglesias has been on an anti-gay kick,
and if I have to be alone with that, I'm going to go crazy."
"Hey, I don't want to hear that shit, either," Marcus grumbled as he got out of
bed and stretched. Carlos watched him out of the corner of his eye before
turning to his closet. "But if it's church with you or home with Dad and that
woman, sure, let's get all Jesused out." They took Marcus' car even as Carlos'
parents grumbled about it. Juana grumbled, too, after being told she couldn't
go with them and had to go with her parents. Marcus laughed a bit once they
were on their way. "I think Juana likes me."
"Oh, God, stop," Carlos groaned.
"No, I mean it. She always wants to hang out when I'm over."
"She always wants to hang out with me and my friends. It's nothing personal."
Marcus huffed to himself. "Look, I'm sorry that neither my mom nor my
girlfriend want to fuck you, but stop. Let it go. Not everyone needs to want
you."
"Says the guy with two people after his ass. What's your secret?"
"Oh, God, if I knew, I'd tell you." They pulled up to the church a few minutes
later, driving slowly through the throng of people to find a parking space.
"You don't speak Spanish, do you?"
"My gardener does. Ow!" Carlos had punched Marcus' shoulder. "Jesus, man.
Sorry. It's true."
"Well, everything that's not in Latin will be in Spanish. Try not to fall
asleep. I'll translate when I can."
"You mean you're not a choir boy?"
"I was at our last church, but I got my job after we moved here and my folks
let me opt out." They made their way inside while Marcus laughed, picking seats
in the back so they could make a quick escape. Carlos whispered a rough
translation as Father Iglesias spoke. "And there's the anti-gay rant. So much
for the whole love-thy-neighbor bit right before it."
Marcus snorted. He managed to not fall asleep, however, even though he took off
after the service, declining brunch. Just as well; Carlos had chores and
homework to do. Maria and her uncle and his family came over, though, which was
always nice. They had two little girls who were good friends with Carlos'
little sisters, and Carlos smiled as he helped them build a pillow fort. Maria
was helping, too, as the adults talked.
"You are good with kids," she commented.
Carlos shrugged. "They're less complicated than adults are. No, put it the
other way, Roberta. That's good. I mean, I get along with adults. But kids are
easier."
"Prom's next weekend. Dad and your parents apparently agreed that we could rent
a hotel room for the night." She lowered her voice, lips right next to his ear
as he groaned. "I'm pretty sure they're hoping you knock me up so they can
force us to get married."
"So, they're still afraid that I'm ...?"
"I don't know. I made it as obvious as I could that you were very interested in
me. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. Mom was sixteen when she had me, so I'm not sure they
realize that it's not really normal in America to start a family so young."
Maria snorted. "Immigrant parents. Blugh. Bless their hearts, but blugh." She
sat back once they'd finished the fort. "How'd you get so good at this?"
"We lived in a one-room apartment until just before Anita was born. I had to
get privacy however I could. Then we got a bigger place -- three whole rooms -
- and then we moved here in September."
"I'm three," Anita, who had perked up at the sound of her name, stated. She
held up three fingers before climbing into Carlos' lap.
He hugged her tightly and covered her face with kisses until she squealed with
laughter. "Yes, you are. You're my baby girl."
She wriggled around. "No! Big girl!"
"Nope, my baby girl. No matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby girl."
Carlos pinched her cheeks and then tickled her, which prompted a wrestling
fight between all of them as Anita shrieked and her sisters and friends leapt
to her rescue. Carlos was eventually overwhelmed and lay on the floor,
laughing, until the adults came back in. They looked serious, so he sat up. "Is
everything ok?"
"It's fine," his father answered. He seemed preoccupied. "The girls are staying
the night. It's time for bed."
Carlos gathered everyone up, exchanging frowns with Maria. She ended up staying
over, too, and they sat on his bed as Carlos brushed her hair for her. "Was
that weird? My parents and your aunt and uncle?"
She nodded, one knee held against her chest. "Yeah. Has anything happened?"
"Not that I know of. Then again, they don't tell me anything. Maybe Abuella or
Abuelo are sick?" He bit his lip as his gut clenched with worry for his
grandparents.
Maria turned around and hugged him tightly. "I hope not. I'm sure everything's
fine. They were probably just trying to figure out how to keep you straight."
They got under the covers and Carlos pulled her close, nodding. "Yeah,
probably."
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     Wooo, here be sexin's in this chapter! Also a school dance.
Chapter Notes
     Art by Carro.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Oh my God, Mom, really?"
"Just one more picture. Then you two can go. Oh, you look so handsome, Carlito
..."
Maria squeezed his arm in sympathy as his mother raised her camera again. "I
thought you said dances were dens of lust and debauchery."
"Lust and debaujerry, lust and debaujerry!" Anita chanted as she and Alonsa
danced around them in their best princess dresses. They'd been heartbroken to
learn that they weren't going to the prom, but Carlos and Maria had spent a
half hour dancing with them in the living room, and all had been forgiven.
"Shush, you see what you teach your sisters?" His mother scowled and Carlos
rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go. Be at church tomorrow! Don't stay up too late!"
They were already out the door. "'Bye!" Carlos shouted over his shoulder. "Love
you!" He leaned forward once he was in the car and rested his forehead on the
dash. "She's going to make me go to confession tomorrow. I don't want to have
to lie to the priest."
Maria snorted. "Why not? I lie to the priest all the time. There's no way in
hell that I'm going to tell some crusty old man how many blow jobs I've given
since my last confession. Or ever. Confessing sins to other people -
- especially celibate old men -- is creepy, and I refuse to do it. Let go of
your Catholic guilt, hon. It makes life much easier when you do."
Of course he was going to lie. His parents thought he was a good and obedient
son, and therefore didn't make him go to confession that often. And, up until
recently, he hadn't really had anything to confess. Up until recently, Cecil
hadn't been in his life. Up until recently, Carlos had managed to rationalize
away certain attractions and feelings.
Up until recently.
"Hey, there's Cecil! Hey, Cecil!"
Maria flagged him down as they waited in line, and his face lit up at the sight
of Carlos in a suit. For his part, Carlos was dumbstruck at the sari Cecil was
wearing. It was a deep purple with lavender dots, trimmed in a reddish-bronze
and gold, pleated and draped around his body. Lavender designs also graced the
end of it, which was draped over his left arm, his right shoulder exposed and
begging for kisses all the way up his neck, past the gold and purple necklace
he wore, around his matching earrings. Cecil's hair was down and curled at the
ends, and his lips and makeup matched the purple of his sari. He was absolutely
breathtaking.
 [http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb264/LarissaFae/chapter012promGIFT.jpg]
"Hi," he said shyly.
"Uhnfffff ...." Carlos replied intelligently. Breathing. Breathing was
necessary for survival. Difficult at the moment, but necessary.
Cecil flushed and twisted slightly, bashful under Carlos' stare. He fluttered
his eyelashes and gripped the silk of his sari rhythmically, lips slightly
parted as he watched Carlos.
"Jesus, get a room, you two," Maria laughed. "You must be Vithya. Hi, I'm
Maria. You look so gorgeous!"
The two girls started chatting as they waited in line, and Carlos swallowed
nervously when Cecil dropped behind them to wait with him. "Uhm. You look --
- How do you get away with wearing girls' clothes to school? I mean, you don't
even wear the uniform." There. That was a safer subject than talking about how
Cecil looked at the moment.
"I'm two-spirit. Officially. Dad had to get a letter from the President and
Council. I, uhm ... I used to wear the uniform. Then I wore the skirt to school
one day, and Principal Garmond flipped out. Called Dad, sent me home, gave me
detention, almost expelled me. Dad was furious. I've always worn feminine
clothing, so it wasn't a surprise for Dad or anything, and he just tore
Principal Garmond to shreds over it. I didn't hear it -- Dad doesn't yell when
he's angry -- but after their meeting was done, I was allowed to wear whatever
I wanted. So I do." They'd gotten inside, and he and Carlos followed the girls
to an empty table. Cecil bit his lower lip gently and flicked his gaze between
Carlos and the floor. "Uhm ..." He giggled nervously as Carlos watched him and
tried not to show just how badly he wanted to kiss him. "Maybe ... Well, I'm in
a dress and all ... Maybe we could, uhm, dance, later?"
Carlos' heart thundered in his chest and he clenched his hands as they
trembled. Cecil looked so nervous, asking for one small thing. He never assumed
anything -- not that Carlos wanted him, not that they would be ... together ...
in any way, nothing. It was always as if he hardly knew Carlos. He was so
willing to let Carlos dictate the pace and nature of their relationship and
associated activities, and that was when Carlos' conscious mind caught up with
his deeper thoughts and put a stop to that line of thinking.
He sighed and shook his head. Before he could give any sort of explanation for
denying what they both knew they both wanted, Cecil flashed a brilliant smile
and took Vithya's arm. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear that
made her laugh, then led her to the dance floor. Maria just shook her head and
rolled her eyes at him.
"Should have danced with him. He's not going to wait around for you forever."
Carlos was regretting his decision, but stuck by it. He didn't need to be seen
dancing with Cecil. "I don't really like to dance. If you want to, though ..."
"Naw, you sit here and be an idiot. I can dance on my own."
She sashayed off, finding Cecil and Vithya and joining them. Carlos watched
them, first glumly, then with a smile. Cecil was enjoying himself, twirling
around and around as he laughed, shaking his hips and shoulders when Vithya
taught him and Maria how to dance like they were in a Bollywood movie. All
three ignored the stares and whispers from a handful of students, where Carlos
would have shied away in embarrassment. He envied them their sociability. He
laughed to himself when one of the football players, who had transferred the
week before, when Cecil had been Celia (and how he got the teachers to go along
with his gender fluidity, Carlos didn't know), eased up to the trio and behind
Cecil. He was in for a big surprise. Cecil started a bit, but grinned at the
guy and swayed back against him. The player hadn't noticed the flatness of
Cecil's chest yet, and clearly didn't realize that the students sniggering
around him were laughing at him, even Mike Sandero. Carlos watched them dance
and wished he could be so naïve, then stood up when the guy turned Cecil around
and slid one knee between his legs.
"What the fuck?!" He jumped back like he'd been scalded, pushing Cecil away.
Carlos had reached them by that point and caught his friend as he stumbled.
"You're not a girl!"
The crowd of students around him burst into laughter at that, and Cecil, who
had turned and put his hands on Carlos' chest for stability, grinned. "Wanna
know why I fuck Mike and let him be an ass to me?" he whispered quickly.
"Yeah," Carlos replied.
The guy was still swearing when Cecil turned and flipped his hair over his
shoulder. He looked the guy up and down, eyes half-lidded, biting his lower lip
gently. "Oh," he purred, "only sometimes. Do you want me to be a girl?"
"I'm not a fag! Get the fuck away from me, you freak!"
Cecil shrugged. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. You're not really
my type, but if you ever wanna try dick, just let me know."
The guy howled with rage and threw a punch at Cecil, who didn't try to duck.
Before Carlos could pull him out of the way, though, the guy's hand froze. He
snarled and turned sharply to Mike, who had grabbed his wrist. "Let me go! I’m
gonna kill him!"
Then he howled again, in pain this time, as Mike twisted his wrist sharply. He
hit his knees as the crowd gasped. "Leave the fag alone," he rumbled. Carlos
blinked in surprise as Cecil leaned back against him and grinned. "He's not
worth getting in trouble over." The guy started to say something and hissed as
Mike's grip tightened. "Leave. Him. Alone. Or Coach will find out and you won't
play on the team."
There was a moment of resistance before a couple of other guys stepped forward,
clearing their throats pointedly and glaring at him. That decided it. "Ok, ok,
just let me go, man," the new guy whimpered. Mike glared down at him for
another moment before releasing him, and he got up and backed away, cradling
his hand and glaring at everyone.
"Thanks, Mike," Cecil cooed, giving him his best smile. Mike just gave him a
hard stare before turning and walking off. Then Cecil turned back to Carlos as
the crowd, bereft of the fight they'd hoped for, dispersed. "Any protests,
now?"
Carlos shook his head as he suddenly understood a lot about Cecil's
promiscuity. Protection. Cecil fucked Mike -- let him verbally abuse him, let
him be as rough as he wanted -- because Mike kept the bullies at bay. If the
others guys who had stepped up were also partners of his, it explained why
Cecil had so many. He knew who the closeted gay guys were, and if he fucked
them and kept their secrets, they would keep him safe.
It was a good strategy. Carlos felt like a complete ass for judging Cecil
without knowing the full story.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize --"
Cecil was moving to the music again, humming along with it. "Don't be. We're
cool."
Carlos stayed with them instead of going back to the table. Maria managed to
not laugh at his dancing, and it was a while later when he realized that Cecil
hadn't come back from the bathroom yet. He wouldn't be so reckless as to have
sex during prom, would he? Carlos had no business trying to find him. Cecil
would show up sooner or later. There was no reason to go looking for him, which
was why Carlos went looking for him.
He wasn't hard to find. All Carlos had to do was slip into the locker room,
listen, and follow the soft pants and moans to where Cecil and his current
partner were.
Or partners, Carlos realized with a shock when he eased around a corner. He
didn't know if he'd meant to break up the fucking when he went looking for his
friend or not, but the sight of Cecil on all fours, with his sari pushed up
around his waist and his panties around one ankle, giving some guy -- wait,
that was Paolo, he went to Carlos' church -- a blowjob while Mike fucked him,
made him forget everything. None of them were paying any attention to anything
else, so his startled choke went unnoticed. Cecil was going down on Paolo like
his life depended on it, reaching one hand back to grab Mike's hip and pull him
hard against him. He was whining and moaning, almost choking on Paolo's dick as
Mike grabbed him by the hair, but only pulled away to turn to Mike and beg to
be fucked harder.
Mike obliged him, and Paolo laughed as the force of his thrusts pushed Cecil
forward and onto his dick, doing almost all of the work for him. Carlos
swallowed and started to shake and sweat as his own dick reacted to the sight.
He and Cecil hadn't ... done anything ... since Cecil's birthday the week
previously, and Carlos had been antsy for a while, even with sleeping with
Maria. He hated that his body wanted Cecil so badly, hated the pounding heart
and sweaty palms it gave him, hated how hard it was to resist his friend, hated
that Cecil never had to start anything. Mostly, he hated that he wasn't in
either Paolo's or Mike's place.
Paolo pushed Cecil away and took his condom off, then grabbed Cecil's chin
tightly with one hand and gave himself a few quick jerks with the other, coming
all over Cecil's startled face as Cecil squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his
lips.
Once Paolo was spent, panting, Cecil dabbed at his face with a napkin and
glared at him. "I told you I didn't want you doing that," he complained.
"It's what sluts like you deserve," he was told, then groaned as Mike leaned
over him, his thrusts fast and hard, reaching one hand around to jerk him off.
"Ah!"
Carlos backed out of the locker room, then, not wanting to be seen. The dim
lighting in the gym hid his hard-on as he made his way back to the table, anger
at Paolo joining his anger at himself. He hunched low in his chair as Maria and
Vithya danced together, and glowered until Cecil -- face presumably washed, as
his makeup was fresh -- sat down beside him. For once he wasn't cheerful, and
kept lightly touching his face every so often.
Finally he sighed. "You really need to learn to stop watching me have sex."
Carlos groaned and held his head in his hands. "Unless that's a kink of yours,
in which case I'll let you know who's cool with being watched."
"Two of them?" was all Carlos could whisper.
Cecil touched his face again. "In my defense, they kinda ganged up on me. I
mean, I knew Mike wanted it," he went on as Carlos looked up sharply, "but the
other guy was a surprise. So I just rolled with it. I figured, why not, right?
Two hot guys at once?" Then he scowled. "Not that I'll ever fuck Paolo again.
I'm a slut, but I have rules, damn it. I ... You can't just do that without the
other person's permission." He was agitated, upset about sex for the first time
Carlos had seen. He kept touching his face like he could still feel Paolo's
come on him, and Carlos took his hand gently. Cecil looked at him in surprise.
"He goes to my church. We play football after, sometimes. Want me to make him
hurt?"
Cecil stared at him for a long time, mouth working silently as tears started to
glisten in his eyes. He squeezed Carlos' hand tightly before clearing his
throat. "I ... I don't like violence."
"That's not what I asked." Cecil moved their hands under the table and sighed
deeply as he looked down at them, then back up at Carlos.
"If ... if he comes to school on Monday with a few bruises, I wouldn't feel
bad."
Carlos nodded. "I can do that."
"Really?" Cecil's voice was small and incredulous. "You'd do that? For me? Just
because he ..."
He trailed off as Carlos kept nodding. "Yeah. I can't tell him why, but he
shouldn't have ... done that. Well, actually, I can tell him why. What's he
going to do about it? Tell the priest or his parents that I beat him up because
he ... did that ... to another guy?" Carlos snorted.
Cecil was smiling, almost beaming. Then he looked up at Carlos through his
lashes. "Did it turn you on?" he asked softly.
Carlos cleared his throat and looked away as he took his hand back. "What do
you think," he mumbled.
"That we really need to fuck," was the murmured reply.
Carlos tugged at his collar and cleared his throat again, loudly. Cecil's laugh
was quiet and almost sad as he got up and went over to Vithya and Maria,
joining them in dancing once again. Carlos just sat at the table and hated
himself.
~~~~~
They'd been at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner for two hours, laughing and playing
card games. Cecil and Maria were sharing a banana split, and everyone but
Carlos had been thrilled to learn that both couples had rooms at the same
hotel.
"Your dad actually let you out overnight?" Maria giggled.
"He just wanted me out of the house," Cecil huffed. He was glowering at the
cards he held. "I'm starting to think he's got a girlfriend."
"Why's that a bad thing?" Maria asked. "I mean, he's still young, he's single,
he's fucking hot as hell ... Why shouldn't he have a girlfriend?"
"Because why does he need one?" Cecil snapped. "I'm not enough for him?" The
sudden awkward silence at the table made him hastily backtrack. "No! That's not
what I meant! Eww, you're all gross. Look, it's been just the two of us since
Mom died. And he loves Mom. What if he falls in love again and forgets about
her? What if ... what if they decide they want me to leave after high school?
Doesn't he love us?"
There was silence before Maria shrugged. "Honey, I doubt he's going to forget
your mom. You didn't exactly get your pretty face from him, you know. And there
are some things you need that you'd go to jail for for getting from your kid,
you know? I've only met your dad once, but I'm really sure that he really loves
you, and falling in love or remarrying isn't going to change that."
"But ... what about Mom?"
They all looked at each other, unsure if Cecil really comprehended both his
mother being dead and what that meant, before Vithya stepped in. "Would she
want him to be alone forever? Without her physically there?"
Cecil frowned. "Well ... no ... But I'm there!"
"Not fucking him, I hope," Maria snorted. Cecil gave her a dirty look. "Loving
your kid and loving a spouse are two different kinds of love, Cecil. And you
can love your dead spouse and a new one." She reached over and squeezed his
hand with a kind smile. "It's going to be ok. Let the man live a little. If he
does have a girlfriend, he probably knows it would upset you if you knew, and
doesn't want that to happen."
"He's not even that attractive," Cecil grumbled.
Maria laughed. "Oh my God, Cecil, your dad is fucking gorgeous. Tall, dark,
angsty, built like a tank, oh my God, all that muscle ..."
She was fanning herself, panting a little, and Vithya nodded in agreement.
Cecil rolled his eyes and looked at Carlos, who looked down and shrugged as his
cheeks burned. That made Cecil throw his cards down in disgust. "Oh my God, you
guys, he's my dad. Which means he's old enough to be everyone's dad, here."
"Major DILF alert," Maria chortled.
"That's it, we're not having babies." Cecil crossed his arms over his chest
petulantly and Carlos laughed.
"You need to go to bed, Cecil. You're tired."
"I'm not. I'm just pissed that everyone wants to fuck my dad."
"Yeah, we should get going." Maria threw some money on the table as they all
gathered the cards and then got up. "He's hot, Cecil. Get over it. But don't
worry, no one here will fuck him."
"You all better not." He was still grouchy when they met up at the hotel, where
Maria managed to sweet-talk the night manager into giving them adjoining rooms.
He flopped onto the bed and stared glumly up at the ceiling. Carlos set his
overnight bag in the other room and yawned, then leaned in the doorway and
watched Cecil as the girls sat on the bed and chatted. "Ugh, I'm exhausted."
"We're not," Vithya laughed.
"Come lay down in here," Carlos offered. Cecil raised his head and stared at
him, then slowly got up, letting the edge of his sari fall off his shoulder as
he grabbed his own overnight bag. Carlos watched that, and stepped aside to let
Cecil pass. He didn't look at Maria and Vithya as he closed the door. He'd set
his MP3 player on the nightstand, and scrolled through the songs quickly as
Cecil just stood in the middle of the room. Once he'd found a song, he turned
it on and set the player down, then stepped up behind Cecil and touched between
his shoulder blades gently. "Hey," he murmured when Cecil jumped a bit and
looked up at him. "Want to dance?"
Cecil's tired, troubled expression slowly melted into a smile as he nodded,
turning and wrapping his arms around Carlos' neck. His head came up roughly to
Carlos' nose, and Carlos tilted his own head down as the opening strains of
Dido's White Flag kicked in and he wrapped his arms around Cecil's waist. He
held his friend gently, one hand cupping his hip and the other curling in the
hair at the base of his neck. Carlos had only seen Cecil with two guys, but
they'd both treated him badly, and Carlos very much wanted to make up for that.
He wanted to be gentle with Cecil, tender. Cecil had been through so much, and
even though he may have honestly enjoyed the rough sex he had with Mike, he
deserved having someone be gentle with him, loving. Someone who would cater to
what he wanted.
The song faded away and Cecil, who had relaxed in Carlos' embrace during it,
straightened. "Thanks," he whispered roughly. There were tear tracks on his
cheeks when he looked up at Carlos with a shaky smile. "Tonight was --" He
didn't get to finish because Carlos had cupped his cheek and kissed him softly.
Cecil's entire body shuddered as he whined, hands clutching the back of Carlos'
hair and neck tightly, almost desperately. The initially soft and chaste kiss
deepened as they both opened their mouths, but it didn't last long. Cecil
pulled away, shaking his head and taking huge gulps of air as he rested his
forehead on Carlos' collarbone. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just ... I can't.
Not tonight. I can't ... Maybe you want me, maybe you don't ... I can't do that
tonight."
Carlos stroked his back gently. "I want to make you happy," he whispered. They
were both half-hard, and as Cecil arched his back it pressed them together, but
Carlos clenched his jaw and refused to do more than hold him.
The beautiful young man laughed quietly. "I want you to make love to me. That
would make me happy."
Carlos tilted Cecil's head up and traced his thumb along his lips. "Ok."
He got a blank look. Then he got a wide-eyed, incredulous look. Then Cecil
licked his lips, his tongue brushing over Carlos' thumb, and they both sighed.
"You ... what?"
He didn't believe it. Carlos kissed his forehead, then cheek, then below his
ear. Cecil tilted his head into the contact with another soft whine. "Ok,"
Carlos murmured. He took a deep breath as his heart pounded in his chest. "I
... I want you, too."
Cecil wobbled in his arms and Carlos tightened his grip, afraid he'd fall down.
He didn't have to reassure Cecil again, though, because he'd apparently decided
not to look a gift horse in the mouth and kissed Carlos suddenly, fully, then
pulled back with a laugh and a smile he was trying to keep under control. His
heart pounded against Carlos' chest as they held each other tightly. "Uhm,
shit. I mean ... I need a shower. I need to wash up." He looked between Carlos,
the bathroom, and the bed as he nervously bit his lip, as if he thought taking
a shower would give Carlos enough time to change his mind.
It might have, if the thought of showering with Cecil hadn't burned itself into
Carlos' imagination. He swallowed sharply and gently rubbed his thumb over
Cecil's cheek, then brushed one of his lavender streaks behind his ear. "So do
I," he managed to get out. "It would use less water if we both ..."
He could have kicked himself. Yes, perfect. Very seductive. Suggest showering
together because it would save water. He was a regular Casanova. Cecil laughed,
though, and kissed him as he pulled them to the bathroom. It was huge, with
marble countertops and a bathtub the size of a jacuzzi. The shower could have
easily fit seven people, with shower heads on either end and along the ceiling.
Carlos stared at the bath, then looked at Cecil, who was also looking at it as
he draped a couple of towels over the mirror. He glanced at Carlos and grinned.
Carlos nodded and went to turn it on. Once it was running, he turned back to
Cecil and lifted him up as he kissed him, setting him on the counter and slowly
unwrapping his sari. Cecil pulled at his suit jacket and shirt, his legs around
Carlos' waist. Carlos pressed kisses along Cecil's neck, shoulders, and collar
as he unfastened his belt and pants. Cecil was whimpering softly, shaking.
"Are you ok?" Carlos asked as they finally got his clothes off and Cecil slid
off the counter, dropping the rest of his sari to the floor. Carlos let out a
shuddering breath at the sight of his panties, garter belt, and stockings,
watching Cecil's face as he slowly knelt to remove them.
Cecil moaned and leaned against the counter, head falling back as he gripped
the edge tightly. "Yeah," he whimpered. "I'm perfect. You're perfect.
Everything's perfect."
Carlos kissed his hip as he slid his panties down. He stared unabashedly at
Cecil's uncircumcised cock and his lips trembled, but he didn't touch it. The
knot of ever-present guilt in his stomach tightened at the thought. He took a
deep breath and let it out slowly instead, which made Cecil shiver. The garter
belt and stockings gave him pause when he got to them. Carlos toyed with the
garter straps and kissed the tops of Cecil's thighs as he considered the slight
dilemma. Cecil was shuddering and leaning forward, long hair brushing against
Carlos' back and his fingers digging into Carlos' shoulders.
"Just pull them all down," he whispered. "Don't undo them."
Carlos nodded and licked his lips. He pulled the garter belt down a bit, then
eased the sheer purple stockings down with it. Cecil tilted his head up to kiss
him as he worked, and once they were off, pushed Carlos to the floor and lay on
top of him, between his legs. Carlos groaned and held him tightly, barely
breaking their kiss in order to breath. Cecil rocked against him for a few
moments, hands gripping his hair, and then sat up suddenly. Carlos stared up at
him in confusion.
"The bath!"
That made Carlos sit up, too, and he scrambled to turn the water off as they
both laughed. He turned and Cecil pushed him in, following and kissing him
under the water. Carlos sat up with Cecil in his lap, trying to get them both
clean with the washcloth and body wash while Cecil squirmed against him,
covering him in kisses. At one point he slid under the water and took Carlos
into his mouth, sucking him off as Carlos gasped, until he couldn't hold his
breath any more.
They splashed around in the tub for a while after that, kissing and touching
each other everywhere. Carlos didn't say anything, but Cecil was full of quiet,
one-word praises. 'Beautiful' and 'perfect' and 'love' and 'handsome' rolled
off his lips like the water that dripped from their hair and skin and Carlos'
heart clenched with each word; no one had found him attractive before, no one
had told him he was wonderful and handsome. He had a hard time believing it
even as he craved the praise and hoped it was true.
"I think we're clean," Cecil finally whispered. He raised his head from Carlos'
neck and rested his forehead against Carlos'.
"Ok." Carlos slid one arm beneath Cecil's rear and the other around his back,
standing and lifting him easily.
Cecil laughed as Carlos stepped out of the tub. He held the taller boy tightly,
reaching out to grab one of the towels from the mirror as Carlos made his way
back to the bed. He rubbed it over their hair and torsos, and when Carlos set
him on the bed, looked up at him adoringly. "There are condoms and lube in my
bag," he whispered. "Grab two. I mean, if you still want to ..."
Carlos swallowed sharply and dug around in Cecil's overnight bag until he found
the lube, then in his own bag for the condoms. "Might as well let Mom and Dad
think I used these with Maria," he mumbled as he flushed. Cecil just sat on the
bed and smiled at him. "Why two?"
He hoped it wasn't too ignorant of a question, and Cecil took them from him
with a kiss. "Makes cleaning up a lot easier," he whispered against Carlos'
mouth. Carlos nodded breathlessly as he watched Cecil put one on before
scooting back against the pillows. "Come here."
He went, kneeling between Cecil's legs and looking down at him, dark hair
spread out on the pillows, lips parted and quivering, fingertips tracing over
his chest lightly. Carlos shivered at the sensation and tried to unwrap his
condom, but his hands were shaking too much. Cecil sat up enough to take it
from him, unwrapping it and rolling it onto him. Carlos ran his hands firmly up
and down Cecil's thighs as he worked, then leaned down and kissed him once he
was done. Cecil held him with one hand and flicked the lube open with his
other, then poured a liberal amount onto Carlos' dick and rubbed it firmly as
he watched Carlos.
Carlos gasped into their kiss and almost collapsed. Cecil grinned. "Grab a
pillow," he whispered. "Put it under my hips. That'll make things easier."
Carlos nodded and did as he was told, turning back to watch Cecil pour more
lube right onto his ... He tried not to think about it. As much as the sight of
Cecil prepping himself turned him on, it also brought a swell of disgust at
himself. A large part of his mind told him that this was a disgusting and bad
act, that he was disgusting and bad, that they were disgusting and bad and
going to Hell. Carlos slid the pillow beneath Cecil's hips and leaned down to
kiss him, hoping to shut the voice up. Cecil pulled him closer, guiding Carlos
to press against and into him. Carlos may have let out a whimper of his own as
he trembled. "It's ok," Cecil whispered in his ear. "Just go slow. We can stop
whenever you want."
He didn't want to stop. Carlos shook his head and then rested his forehead in
the crook of Cecil's neck, rocking his hips and easing himself into Cecil bit
by bit. Cecil held him tightly, fingernails scraping lightly across his back as
he gasped in Carlos' ear with pleasure. Once he was fully inside of Cecil,
groaning at how tight he was, Carlos raised himself up on his forearms and
looked down at his friend. There were tears in Cecil's eyes and he gently
brushed them away as Cecil smiled up at him. "Are you ok?" he panted. He wanted
to push into him, over and over, as hard and fast as he could, but forced
himself to hold still. He didn't want to hurt Cecil.
Cecil laughed and nodded, pulling him down for a kiss and raising his hips up.
"Just a dream come true," he whispered. "Oh God, please ... you can move. Just
fuck me. Please."
"I don't want to hurt you," Carlos replied as he slowly started to move his
hips. The feelings made his eyes roll back and he groaned along with Cecil.
"You won't," Cecil laughed. "Be as rough as you want."
"I don't ... I don't want to be bad to you."
"No," Cecil corrected, "you don't want to be abusive to me. You --- oh, God,
please, faster --- you aren't abusive, sweetest, dearest Carlos. You couldn't
be. Please ..."
Carlos was gradually persuaded, both by Cecil's begging and by his own body, to
speed his thrusts up. Cecil wrapped his legs around Carlos' waist and arched
his neck, smiling and laughing each time his breath was forced out of him in
tiny huffs when Carlos pushed into him hard enough. It concerned Carlos at
first, until Cecil wanted to be on top, leaning down to bite and kiss all over
Carlos' chest as he rode Carlos hard, his gasps and groans loud even over the
music that was still playing. Carlos grunted every time Cecil slammed himself
onto him, gripping Cecil's hips tightly. It was amazing. Beyond amazing. He
pulled Cecil down at one point, turning them both on their sides, and kissed
him as they held each other tightly. They came like that, Cecil soon after
Carlos, and lay, panting, in each other's arms after.
Cecil nuzzled Carlos' neck with a contented sigh. "That was amazing," he
whispered.
"Yeah," Carlos agreed. "But you don't have to say that to make me feel better."
That brought a sleepy laugh. "I mean it. You fuck like you actually care. Only
Earl --" He coughed, embarrassed. "Well. Not a lot of my guys do that."
"Mmmm." Carlos' eyelids were heavy, and he barely stirred when he felt Cecil
taking his condom off. They fell asleep together, waking up twice during the
night and (don't say making love, Carlos, don't say making love) having a
second and third round, slow and leisurely each time.
They were still exhausted in the morning, when Maria banged on the adjoining
door to wake them up so she and Carlos could go to church. Their mutual shower
was short, almost business-like, and Cecil didn't meet his eyes as they got
dressed and he cleared his throat.
"So ... don't worry about last night," he mumbled. Carlos blinked at him. "I
mean, thank you. It was ... good of you to ... to want to make me happy after
... after he did that. And a lot more straight guys experiment than you might
think. I ... I know it didn't mean more than that." Did it? Carlos didn't know.
Cecil finally smiled at him warmly and his heart clenched. "You're one of my
best friends. One of my only friends. That means more to me than anything."
He was trying to assure Carlos that he wasn't reading anything into the
previous night, wasn't assuming it meant anything. Carlos nodded and opened the
adjoining door, kissing Maria lightly before they all went their separate ways.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Summary
     Carlos makes good on his promise.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
He wasn't a violent person. Not by a long shot. So it was surprising to Carlos
how easy shouldering Paolo in the hallway was, how easy it was to knock the
shorter boy down. He supposed it helped that as soon as he'd seen the boy, a
tight knot of rage had coiled in his stomach and he'd wanted to hurt him.
"Oh, sorry," Carlos lied as he grabbed Paolo's hand and yanked him up. He
wasn't gentle, and Paolo winced again as he took his hand back.
"Jeez, Garcia, watch where you're going." He rubbed his hand and shoulder.
"Will do. Wanna play some football after church?"
"You gonna watch yourself?"
Carlos grinned. "Yeah, of course."
Paolo gave him a suspicious look before heading off to find his family.
Thinking of all the ways he could hurt Paolo, and how much he was going to
enjoy it, kept Carlos' mind occupied during the sermon. He was even able to
ignore Father Iglesias' weekly rant about sodomites. He supposed it wasn't very
Christian of him to plan on hurting someone, but then again, God had once sent
bears to kill a group of boys who had been taunting a prophet, so he figured he
was following a good example.
After church, he joined the group of young men playing football out back. Paolo
was there, too, and Carlos managed to tackle him several times, shoving him
hard into the grass. Paolo was clearly getting irritated, and then Carlos
slammed into him so hard he flew back at least four feet before he hit the
ground. He swore loud enough that Sister Consuela yelled at him, and glared up
at Carlos.
"What the hell?!" He curled on his side, trying to catch his breath. "What the
fucking hell, Garcia?! What's your problem?"
"My problem," Carlos growled as he knelt next to Paolo and pulled him up by the
collar, "is how you treat my friends. I know what you did to Cecil last night."
Paolo's eyes widened in fear before narrowing. "I didn't do anything to him.
That fag's lying."
He struggled to get out of Carlos' grasp, shoving hard at him, and Carlos
lifted him to his tiptoes. "Cecil doesn't really lie. I saw what you did,
because I went looking for him."
Now Paolo was starting to panic, and kicked at Carlos' shins. Carlos dropped
him and shoved him, hard. "Leave me the fuck alone. I didn't do a damn thing.
Don't you fucking say a word or I swear to God, I'll kill you."
That made Carlos laugh. "You think you could hurt me? You're just a
disrespectful shithead, Paolo." They were talking low enough that no one could
hear them, but their obvious argument was attracting attention. "You
deliberately came on his face, when he had specifically told you not to. Hey,
maybe Father Iglesias wants to know why we're arguing."
"You asshole!" Carlos was ready for the punch that Paolo threw, ducking and
coming up with his fist in Paolo's stomach. There were shouts from the other
boys and the adults, and as Paolo fought back, Carlos landed several solid
hits. They ended up tumbling to the ground, beating and tearing at each other
before they were pulled apart. Paolo spit at him as Sister Consuela hit them
across their backs with her cane, and Carlos twisted out of his father's grip
to bust the boy's nose. "Fuck!"
"Carlos!"
"Don't you ever do that again," he growled as Paolo's nose spurted blood. He
let his father pull him away and straightened, smoothing his shirt and hair.
"Sorry, Dad. Just a little disagreement."
"A little disagreement?" his father scoffed, shaking him roughly. "Over what?!"
"He was saying rude things about Maria." It was the easiest lie that Carlos had
ever told. "He's a disgusting pig and I'm not apologizing."
"Is this true?" Father Iglesias asked.
Paolo glared at Carlos, who calmly raised an eyebrow at him, and then his
shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Yes, Father."
Father Iglesias sighed deeply and looked between the two dirty and bloody boys.
"It is never acceptable to insult someone, Paolo. I'm disappointed in you. Go
to the confessional. I'll be there in a moment. And Carlos," he continued as
Paolo trudged off, "while it's very noble to defend someone when they've been
insulted, violence is not the way of our Lord."
"Pretty sure God sent bears to eat kids in Elisha's defense," Carlos muttered.
His father smacked the back of his head. "They were a group of young men your
age or older," Father Iglesias corrected testily, "and they were threatening to
kill Elisha. So unless Paolo was threatening to kill Maria, go wait with him."
Carlos closed his eyes to avoid rolling them before following Paolo. They sat
outside the confessional and glared at each other until Paolo finally spoke,
his voice nasally and muffled from his busted nose and the ice pack he'd been
given.
"Don't say a fucking thing about prom."
Carlos rolled his eyes. "Why shouldn't I?"
"No one would believe you. I'm not a fag."
"You say that word again and I'll throw your ass across the pews, house of God
or not."
Paolo hunched his shoulders and stared down at the floor. "Look, I'm straight,
ok? What do you want me to do? Just don't tell anyone."
Carlos glanced up as Father Iglesias made his way toward him. "Apologize to
Cecil, and never talk to him again. Just leave him alone."
Paolo's sigh was relieved. "Yeah, sure. You won't tell?"
"Not if you leave him alone and apologize." Paolo nodded and they shook on it
just as Father Iglesias reached them. Carlos smiled at him. "We worked it all
out, Father."
The old priest smiled. "I'm glad. You still need to confess." He motioned Paolo
into the confessional, leaving Carlos to wait outside.
~~~~~
Cecil's kisses were warm and languid, never leaving Carlos' lips as he sat in
Carlos' lap at the table. He dragged his fingers through Carlos' hair and along
his scalp, down his neck and shoulders, and around his back. Carlos' own hands
were under Cecil's shirt, pushing it up as he dug his fingers into Cecil's soft
skin. It wasn't clear, as their kiss deepened yet again and Cecil's tongue
brushed against his, who had leaned over first, but it hadn't been Cecil.
Carlos bit Cecil's lower lip gently and Cecil's grip on his hair and neck
tightened sharply, sending pleasant shocks through Carlos' system as the other
boy shifted higher in his lap. They both groaned at the feeling, holding each
other tighter.
It had become a routine, after prom. Mr. Palmer had asked Elder Josie to come
over during Cecil's tutoring time, but it usually took her about an hour to
show up. Some days they worked all day. Some days -- an increasing number of
days -- Cecil ended up in Carlos' lap, their lips sealed together, neither of
them moving except to run their hands over each other or shift just slightly.
Carlos kept his eyes closed until the barking of the dogs signalled Elder
Josie's arrival.
On those days -- those increasingly numerous days -- Carlos texted Maria as
soon as he was on his way home and she met him there. They alternated between
her uncle's house and his, and they'd stopped pretending they were going to
study as they walked past his mother. They'd stopped pretending they were doing
anything other than having sex, and, oddly enough, Carlos' normally anti-sex
mother said nothing about it. She must have been very worried about his
sexuality to be letting him have entirely not-secret sex in her home. He didn't
know if she'd put together that he and Maria only had sex on the days he'd been
tutoring Cecil, but Maria certainly had. She hadn't outright said anything
about it, but she'd dropped hints that she and Vithya had heard him and Cecil
on prom night. They hadn't had sex since, despite almost every fiber in Carlos'
body demanding it. He was trying to keep the situation under control.
The dogs started barking and Cecil pulled away, standing up and walking quickly
to his room. Carlos went to the bathroom, undid his pants, and beat off as
quickly as he could, the taste of Cecil's lip balm still on his lips as he
licked them, knowing that Cecil was doing the exact same thing not ten feet
away. He washed his hands after he was done and slid out of the bathroom,
letting Cecil in and avoiding a hoped-for kiss as he did so. He had just sat
back at the table when Elder Josie walked in the door. She set a plate of
cookies -- fresh-baked and delicious-smelling -- in front of him and ruffled
his hair before ambling to the living room.
"Thank you, Elder Josie. How are you today?"
"Not as good as you," was her reply before she burst into cackles, and not for
the first time, Carlos suspected that she was more on Cecil's side than Mr.
Palmer had been hoping for in a chaperone. "How was prom?"
"Good, thank you." Too good. He didn't look up when Cecil greeted her and sat
down again. They didn't talk much for the rest of the day and Carlos was fine
with that. He was getting very good at pretending they did nothing but study
when they were alone. "Maria's leaving in a month," he eventually commented. He
didn't know why he'd brought it up. He wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't
enjoy sex with Maria, but it was better than doing the same with Cecil. There
was less gut-wrenching guilt involved.
"I'm sorry. I'll miss her." They were quiet for a few minutes. "I probably
won't need tutoring after winter break. We'll see how midterms go, but I'm
pretty sure I'll do good. I have the best tutor, after all."
Carlos didn't want to stop tutoring Cecil. He enjoyed their time together ...
which was why he couldn't tutor Cecil with Maria out of town. They would do
something he would enjoy far too much. He sighed.
"Yeah."
"Are your parents still worried?"
That brought a whole new kind of concern. "I don't know. They're worried about
something. I don't know what it is, though. I don't think it's me. They stay up
late, a lot, and argue. They won't tell me anything." The house had been
steadily getting more and more tense. "I'd be afraid they're going to get a
divorce, but they're way too Catholic. I had a friend whose parents just moved
apart rather than getting a divorce, though." He stared down at his homework.
"I don't want my parents to split up. Oh, God, what if one of them's dying?"
There was a brief moment before Cecil scooted his chair closer and hugged
Carlos tightly. Carlos leaned his head against Cecil's shoulder and tried not
to cry. If his parents split up, if one of them was sick ... Cecil kissed his
temple and held his hand. Carlos was too fraught with worry to pull away.
"What do I do?"
"I don't know," Cecil murmured. "You can crash here, though, if you ever need
to. No sex," he qualified when Carlos raised his head. "Nothing we ... not the
usual. Unless you want. A lot of guys stay here when they're going through
stuff at home. I can sleep on the couch."
"You said the couch is uncomfortable."
"That's how you know I'm serious."
Carlos smiled and turned his face into Cecil's neck, breathing in his warm
scent deeply. They stayed that way until Mr. Palmer pulled up.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Summary
     'Bye, Maria. :( Also, sex, but no details.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Mom? Dad?"
His parents were in the living room, talking in low, urgent voices. They
stopped as Carlos padded down the stairs. He hadn't texted Maria that afternoon
-- he'd been too consumed with worry, going over everything that could be
wrong. Neither parent so much as smiled at him.
"Go back to bed."
He ignored his mother's command and stood in the doorway. "What's going on? Are
you two alright?"
"Nothing's wrong. Go back to bed."
"Something's wrong," he insisted. "You're both acting weird. Are you sick? Are
you splitting up? Is one of the girls sick? Abuella or Abuelo?"
His father sighed and rubbed his face. "No. It's nothing. You have a test in
the morning. Go. To. Bed."
Carlos' voice almost cracked in frustration. "It's not 'nothing' when you two
are up all night talking and arguing!"
He father stood and walked toward him. "Carlos --"
"It's not 'nothing' when you're constantly yelling at the girls for stupid
things! Something is wrong and I want to know what it is!"
Much like Carlos, his father wasn't a violent man. He had never so much as
swatted Carlos or his sisters on the butt, no matter how badly they'd
misbehaved, so Carlos was entirely unprepared for the backhanded slap that
almost knocked him to the floor. He and his mother both cried out as his skull
cracked against the doorframe. Pain blossomed in his cheek and temple and his
vision darkened as he stumbled, only held up by his father's fist clenched in
his night shirt.
"If you don't go to bed right now," his father growled, "you can leave my
home."
"You hit me," Carlos mumbled in dazed awe. His vision was still swimming.
"Ramon, leave him alone! He's just a boy!"
His father whirled around so quickly that Carlos was afraid he'd hit his mother
next. He didn't move toward her, though. He just stood there and breathed
heavily, shaking with anger as Carlos choked back sobs.
Finally, his father dropped him and sighed heavily. His broad shoulders slumped
and he looked lost, almost. "Go to bed, Carlos." His voice was barely audible.
"This doesn't concern you. You'll be fine."
Carlos fled back to his room and threw himself on to his bed, sobbing and
shaking. His father had hit him. Hit him for wanting to know what was going on.
Hit him. Hit him.
He wasn't feeling any better in the morning. He left as early as he could and
walked to school, getting there as Cecil's father dropped off a well-dressed
young man in silvery grey slacks, a matching vest, and a deep purple button-
down shirt with a turquoise-inlaid bolo tie. He had a matching silvery grey
jacket over one arm and fell into step beside Carlos.
"Blech, suits. How do I look?"
Carlos did a double-take. "Cecil?"
He got a bashful grin. "Yeah. Weird, right? I know. Don't worry -- I'm wearing
lingerie. I have an interview for an internship at the community radio station
after school. How do I look?" He very obviously looked at Carlos' bruised
cheek, but said nothing about it.
"Good." Really good. Carlos wanted to kiss him right there, lean into his
embrace and comfort, and bit his lip as his feelings about Cecil and his
parents swelled up and overwhelmed him. He gasped and hunched his shoulders,
crossing his arms tightly over his aching chest.
"Ok, let's go to the nurse." Cecil took his arm and Carlos jerked away from his
touch. "Carlos --"
"Don't touch me," he gasped. He sat on the steps of the school and put his head
between his legs, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't
breathe and his chest felt like it was collapsing and his heart was pounding
and his mouth was dry and he was shaking and light-headed and he leaned against
Cecil and it was only when the other boy wrapped an arm tightly around him that
he started to calm down. He took deep breaths, slowly, in and out, his eyes
closed against the stares of the passing students.
It wasn't until the second bell rang that Carlos finally pulled himself
together and away from Cecil's embrace. Then he let Cecil help him up, the
shorter boy's hands warm in his own. They stood there for a few moments, Carlos
drained and awkward and Cecil eternally patient and calm. He didn't ask what
was wrong. He didn't say anything, in fact, just stood one step above Carlos,
their eyes level and their hands still clasped tightly between the two of them.
His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed in a frown, the questions
obvious in his eyes.
Carlos sighed, leaned forward, and kissed him before running up the steps and
inside.
~~~~~
"You could at least pretend you enjoy sex." Maria's voice was a bit muffled
from having her face buried in his neck, then she rolled off of him and lay on
her back, breathing heavily.
"... Sorry." Carlos stared at the ceiling. "I've got a lot on my mind right
now."
"Do you need me to --"
"No." She hadn't even reached for him yet. Carlos sat up before she could and
swung his legs over the edge of his bed, then held his head in his hands and
stared at the floor. He felt ... empty. No ... hollow. Like if a pin was
dropped into his chest it would echo forever. At the same time, his chest was
tight and aching, filling up his perpetual hollowness with undulating waves of
pain. He breathed shallowly for a moment before heaving himself up. "I need to
shower."
Maria followed him. Carlos was mostly used to them bathing together after sex.
She certainly didn't seem to mind his body, showing none of the discomfort with
it that Carlos himself felt. It was soothing, too, to feel her hands running
over his back and shoulders, digging into his tense muscles and easing them.
"I think my parents are going to split up." He was facing her, not really
seeing her.
"Oh, honey ..." Maria pulled him into a fierce hug as the water poured over
them, and Carlos wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I'm so sorry. Are you
sure?"
Carlos nodded and told her what he knew of his increasingly tense, easily-
angered parents, of their late-night arguments and phone calls, of his father
backhanding him the night before. Tears were falling on his cheeks again by the
time he had finished, and Maria hugged and kissed him and tried to calm his
fears.
"Maybe your dad lost his job," she offered. "That would explain why they're so
upset."
"I've heard them talking about who the girls and I will stay with."
"If he doesn't find a new job soon, you guys may need to sell the house and get
an apartment," she reasoned. "They could probably save some more money if you
and the girls stayed with friends for a while."
"I don't know," Carlos sighed. "Why wouldn't they tell me if that's what's
wrong? I've got a job and I'm almost seventeen. I can help with money."
Maria brushed his bangs out of his eyes and smiled. "They want you to
concentrate on school, silly. And they're your parents -- they're supposed to
provide for you, not the other way around. Come on, honey, we're all Mexicans
here -- this is a matter of pride." He laughed and she pulled him down for a
kiss. "It's going to be ok. I promise."
Carlos nuzzled her neck, sliding his hands from her waist to her rear and
massaging gently. Maria let out a small squeak and rolled her hips against his,
turning her head to kiss him. He returned it briefly before dropping to his
knees and trailing kisses along her ample stomach. He gripped her upper thighs
and she shifted her legs apart, holding his hair lightly and sighing with
pleasure as he moved one hand and stroked between her legs as he kissed her.
He'd learned a lot of ways to eat her out without straining his jaw too much.
Plus, with his face between her legs, she couldn't see how exceptionally bored
he was. She knew, of course; she just didn't want it to be obvious.
She pulled him up after she came and he hugged her, letting her catch her
breath before they finished their shower. She held onto him tightly, cheek
against his chest, and sighed heavily. "Great. I teach a guy how to do me
right, and then I have to go back to school. Ugh."
Carlos laughed a little. "Sorry."
"It's ok." She yawned. "Let's have a party on Saturday. Get a hotel room. Daddy
will pay."
"Am I the only person whose parents care if they have sex?"
Maria laughed as they washed up. "Oh, Daddy cares. But your parents really want
you to be straight --"
"I am straight."
"-- and mentioned that you're on the fast track to a good research position,
and the dollar signs appeared in his eyes."
"I won't be making that much money."
"Yeah, but Daddy doesn't know that. Besides, you could use a night away from
this place."
"Yeah," Carlos agreed as they got into bed. "You're right." He waited until
she'd settled and then curled around her, sighing into her hair. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
~~~~~
"A bunch of my friends and I are going to get a hotel room on Saturday -- you
know, have a going-away party. Can Carlos come, too?"
They were in the living room, Carlos' arm around Maria's shoulders as they sat
on the couch. He choked a bit and gave her a hard stare. She may as well have
just told them that they were going to fuck all night -- add in a few positions
while she was at it. His parents were going to kill hi--
"Just be to church on time."
"What?!"
Carlos turned sharply to his father, but Maria pinched him. "Thanks! I'll pick
him up Saturday morning and take him to church on Sunday." She gave him a
warning look before settling back into his embrace.
Carlos sighed slowly. He hadn't expected any of that. Things must have been
really bad if his parents weren't questioning his every non-school move. The
knot of worry in his stomach clenched again, tighter than ever. He thought he
might be sick. Maria felt his tension and squeezed his hand before kissing his
shoulder gently.
"I invited Cecil, too," she told him later, as he walked her to her car. His
parents had drawn the line at her staying more than one night at a time. "We've
been hanging out a bit. He's a real sweety."
"You haven't hear him get morbid. Wait, he has a curfew."
"Only if he goes home." She leaned against her car and grinned as she pulled
him against her.
Carlos frowned. "Ok ... So we're not, uh ..."
Maria sighed. "Sex, Carlos. Sex. Say it." He glared at her. "Come on. Sex. You
can say it. We've been having sex for a month and a half. You're a big boy. Say
it."
Carlos sighed dramatically. "Seeeeeex," he muttered slowly.
Maria beamed at him and squeezed his rear. "Good!" Then she pushed him away and
got in the car. "And we'll see how it goes on Saturday."
"But, if Cecil's there --"
"See you later!" There was a wicked grin on her face as she drove off. Carlos
sighed and trudged back inside.
~~~~~
People made him uncomfortable. Carlos liked them well enough; he just wasn't
quite skilled at interacting with them. He'd been tucked in a corner chair all
night, reading his science textbook as Maria and her friends drank and danced.
He didn't know who had brought the alcohol and had refused all offers of both
it and dancing, even when Maria wanted to dance.
Cecil had no such reservations. He flitted around the room, laughing and
drinking and dancing and flirting. He was currently sandwiched between two
young ladies, his silky purple shirt unbuttoned and hanging around his elbows,
only kept on by dint of still being tucked into his skinny jeans -- skinny
jeans the two girls were trying to unbutton.
Maria yanked his book out of his hands and straddled his lap, kissing him
firmly. Carlos returned it automatically and frowned over her shoulder when she
pulled back. "Please don't let this devolve into an orgy."
She laughed against his neck as she sucked on it. "If you're jealous, go get
him."
"I'm not jealous."
"You're totally jealous."
"You're all drunk."
Maria snorted and then Cecil appeared behind her, his lips on her neck and his
hands cupping her breasts. "Save me," he murmured. "Really."
"Ok, fine, let's do it," she said loudly as she pushed herself up. "Back off,
bitches. These two are mine!" She pulled Carlos up and took he and Cecil by the
hands, pulling them into the bathroom as her friends hooted and cheered. She
locked the door and leaned against it, crossing her arms over her chest with a
grin. "Better?"
Sinking down onto the edge of the tub, Cecil held his head in his hands. "Yeah.
Thanks. You girls are persistent when you're drunk."
"And you're not?"
Cecil rolled his eyes up to give Carlos a hard look. "No. I'm not an asshole.
And I don't get drunk. I've seen what alcohol does to Native Americans, and I'm
full-blooded. I rarely drink, I never get drunk, and I don't take advantage of
others when they do. Besides," and he ran his fingers through his long black
hair as he sat up, "I make exceptions for women. I'm a lot pickier about
vaginas than I am about dicks."
"Yeah, when are you two going to officially hook up, anyway?" Maria asked.
Carlos huffed. "Oh, come off it. It's obvious you want Cecil. Do you honestly
think that our parents would have asked me to fuck you if yours didn't know you
want him?"
Carlos shook his head. "I'm not gay."
Maria turned. "Cecil --"
"I believe him." Cecil was buttoning his shirt and glanced up as Maria scoffed,
his eyebrows raised. "I have no reason not to believe him. And if he's lying,
well, sexuality is a tough thing for some people to come to terms with. The
last thing I want to do is pressure someone to come out before they're ready."
He stood and smoothed his hair back before tying it into a ponytail at the base
of his neck. "Ok. I'm ready. Thanks for the breather." Maria just rolled her
eyes as she left the bathroom and Cecil paused as he followed, looking to the
side but not right at Carlos. "Oh, and if you want people to stop thinking
you're gay ..."
"Yeah?" Carlos asked.
"Stop eye fucking me all the time."
Then he was gone, and Carlos clenched his fists until his nails broke skin.
~~~~~
Hours later, after Maria's friends had all gone, Carlos lay curled toward the
wall with Cecil's headphones on and Maria's MP3 player on high enough that he
couldn't hear the two of them in the other bed. They'd invited him to join in,
already undressed and under the covers, and Carlos had stared blankly at them,
a flush creeping up his dark skin, before grabbing for the headphones and music
player and turning to the wall. Surprisingly, they'd left him alone, and if he
hadn't known any better, Carlos would have had no idea what was going on.
He should have been upset. Angry, even. Upset that Cecil and Maria thought that
it was perfectly ok to have sex with him in the room. Angry that one of his
best friends and his girlfriend were having sex just feet away from him. He
wasn't, though. Not about Maria. He really didn't feel anything other than
friendship for her. He didn't care if she had sex with other people.
He cared if Cecil did.
Carlos sighed and rolled onto his back, draping one arm over his face and
closing his eyes for good measure. He didn't want to think about this now. Not
around people -- not around them. He rolled over again to keep from peeking at
them, because then he would stare, and they would notice, and then one would
get in the bed with him and the other would follow, and Carlos would go along
with whatever they wanted because no matter how wrong it was, it felt good when
Cecil touched him, when Cecil kissed him, when he was inside of Cecil, and he
wanted that. It was almost more than he could stand.
He closed his eyes and curled up tighter.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
     So go follow it. Sometimes I remember to post there on time. :D
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Summary
     Backstory on Cecil's mom, and talk of death and suicide.
Chapter Notes
     I've been having mental health issues lately - thank you all for your
     patience. I need to start Company Policy back up, too. I'm not
     deliberately abandoning either fic, I promise.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Carlos hated winter break. He would have preferred taking more classes, and the
extra assignments he'd wheedled out of his teachers hadn't lasted him very
long. He was bored. Their Christmas decorations were already up, so he couldn't
do that. Maria was back at home for Christmas, Marcus had gone on a trip to
India, his father was out of town, his mother had taken the girls to some
girls-only function at church and left him at home alone, and Cecil --
Cecil was currently standing outside the front door, soaking wet and scowling.
Carlos watched him from down the block and hurried through the rain a bit
faster. It was after ten, going on eleven, and why Cecil was off the
reservation that late was beyond Carlos. Cecil turned when he heard Carlos
coming up the walk, rubbing his arms and shivering.
"No one's answering the door."
"No one's home." Carlos juggled his umbrella and bag of groceries and unlocked
the door, shooing Cecil in. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, you know ... You didn't answer your phone." He didn't sound angry, just
... disappointed.
"I left it here, and no, I don't know." Cecil followed him to the kitchen and
stared at the floor as Carlos set the bags down and grabbed a towel from the
linen closet, coming back and throwing it on his head. He didn't move, which
meant he was in a seriously down mood. Carlos looked at his soaking wet clothes
and rolled his eyes. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, at least come take a
bath. You'll catch a cold and die and then your father will kill me."
Cecil followed him up the stairs. "Yeah, probably." He waited as Carlos ran the
shower and stepped in fully dressed before Carlos pulled him back out.
"Jesus, Cecil. Take your clothes off."
"Cover the mirror?"
He wasn't moving, staying out of sight of his own reflection, and Carlos opened
the medicine cabinet to hang another towel over it. Cecil still didn't move,
staring off into space like one of his puppies had died, so Carlos gently
undressed him and guided him back into the shower. He waited, but all Cecil did
was sigh deeply, so Carlos got undressed and in with him, turning him so he was
directly under the stream of hot water and rubbing his arms to warm him up.
Cecil leaned his forehead against Carlos' shoulder and his own shoulders
trembled. Carlos hugged him tightly.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
"Mom died today."
Well. No wonder he was depressed. Carlos squeezed him tighter and kissed his
forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Does your dad know you're here?" Cecil
shrugged. "Ok. We'll call him in a bit. Are you warm?" He got a shake of the
head, so they stayed in the shower for a while, until Carlos had turned the
cold water down two or three times to keep it warm enough. Then he turned the
shower off and rubbed Cecil down with a couple of towels before bundling him in
a robe and almost carrying him to the bed.
He'd gotten Cecil into a pair of his sweatpants and one of his nightshirts, and
was gently rubbing his friend's feet as he knelt on the floor, when Cecil
finally stirred and looked down at him. "You'd make a good sub."
Carlos laughed a little. "What?"
"You'd make a good sub. Submissive. Like, taking orders and stuff."
"Is that a sexual thing? Like bondage?"
He got a shrug. "It doesn't have to be, but yeah. I bet you'd like that. I'd
give you the prettiest collar ..."
Carlos didn't respond. He wasn't sure how he felt about all that. He did tend
to follow orders when he was with Maria or Cecil, but that was mostly because
he had no idea what to do. He'd never really been sexually attracted to anyone
before Cecil. His phone lit up and he grabbed it, noting Cecil's number as he
answered. "Cecil's ok. He's here with me."
Mr. Palmer's sigh of relief was deep. "Thank you. Don't let him leave." There
was a woman's voice in the background. "No, he'll be fine there. Is he fine
there? I can -- we can come get him, if we have to."
His speech was a bit halting and a bit slurred, and Carlos frowned. "Uhm, no,
he can stay here. Are you alright, sir?"
"I'm a little drunk," Mr. Palmer confessed heavily. "Don't tell Cecil. Did he
tell you -- his mother --"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."
There was an awkward moment of silence before the woman came on the phone. "Go
lay down, Daryl. I'll be there in a minute. Go. Carlos? This is Tamika
Carlsberg, Steve's mother. Is Cecil ok to stay with you tonight?"
Mr. Palmer was going to lay down and a woman was going to join him. Carlos
added that to the current list of things to not tell Cecil. "Yes, he's fine. I
promise. He's warm and dry and I'm going to make him some food in a bit."
She sighed. "Ok. Thank you so much. Apparently he got really upset and ran off.
It's not usually this bad with them. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."
"It's ok," Carlos assured her again. "Uhm, I need to feed Cecil ..."
"Right. I'll let you go. Tell him his father loves him. Ah ... If you could not
mention that I'm here?"
Secret girlfriend, indeed. Carlos shook his head sharply. "Yeah, sure." No, she
just knew how Cecil would react and wanted to spare him the pain and suspicion.
It didn't mean she and Mr. Palmer were seeing each other.
"Thank you. Daryl will come get him in the morning. You two ... have as good a
night as you can. He'll have a lot of nightmares."
"Ok. Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up and looked over at Cecil, who was lying on
his back and staring up at the ceiling as he breathed shallowly. Carlos wasn't
sure it was a good idea to move him, but he also didn't want to come back to
slit wrists or something, either. "Your dad says he loves you," he said softly.
There was silence. "He was worried about you."
“He’s always worried about me.”
“You give him a lot to be worried about.” Carlos pulled Cecil up and hugged him
tightly. “Hey. Want to help me make some food?”
“No.”
He sighed. “Ok. But you’re coming with me to the kitchen anyway.” It was a
task, getting Cecil up and walking and down the stairs and into a chair at the
kitchen island, but Carlos finally gently guided Cecil’s head to the top of the
island and turned it so Cecil could watch him make some dinner for them. His
friend’s eyes were glazed over, and even breathing seemed to exhaust him.
Carlos thought he might just stop breathing altogether if he could, and that
worried him as he cooked. He knew what Cecil’s favorite meal was and, luckily,
had the ingredients for it. “I’m making mac and cheese,” he commented over his
shoulder. Cecil barely managed a soft grunt. “Just like you like it.” Another
grunt. Carlos bit his lip and frowned down at the noodles, giving them a bit of
a stir before sitting next to Cecil and gently rubbing between his shoulder
blades. Cecil heaved a sigh, but leaned toward Carlos, not away.
“Your parents will be mad that I’m here.”
“My parents will get over it,” Carlos said shortly. “I’m allowed to have
friends over, and besides, am I supposed to leave you out in the rain? That’s
not very Christian.”
“Neither is homophobia.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not homophobic.”
It took Carlos a moment to realize that the sounds Cecil was making were
laughter as his shoulders shook. It relieved him, as confusing as it was, and
then Cecil turned his head to look at him. “Honey, you’re incredibly
homophobic.”
Carlos stiffened and frowned. “I am not,” he protested.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. What gave you that idea? I think it should be obvious by now that
I’m not homophobic.”
That made Cecil snort. “You can fuck guys and still be homophobic. It’s all in
your head, crawling around like maggots -- except maggots only eat rotten flesh
so not like maggots, because maggots would eat the homophobia and clean your
brain out.” Carlos rolled his eyes, his hand now running through Cecil’s damp
hair. “I’ve fucked enough guys that I know what I’m talking about, Carlos.
You’ll dance with me, but not in public. You’ll kiss me, but not even when
people who know about it are around. You’ll fuck me, but God forbid anyone
knows about it. You’ll let me suck you off, but I see the disgust on your face
when I even hint that you return the favor. I’m not blind, Carlos. You’re so
far in the closet that you’re having tea with the White Witch, and I can smell
the internalized homophobia from a mile away.”
Carlos didn’t have an answer, so he got up and stood over the noodles, watching
them boil and stirring them as his chest and gut tightened with guilt. There
were things he didn’t admit even to himself, and Cecil’s words had hit
dangerously close to home -- around about the living room, he would guess. They
didn’t say another word until Carlos had dished them up the homemade macaroni
and cheese that Cecil adored. He silently handed Cecil the ketchup, and after a
few moments, sighed and offered Cecil a bite from his own fork. Only then did
the other boy eat, neither of them looking at the other. Once they were done,
Carlos took Cecil by the hand and led him upstairs again, his thumb moving
gently over Cecil’s soft skin. He got out an unused toothbrush and they brushed
their teeth together, and then Cecil hesitated as Carlos pulled back his
covers.
“Your parents are going to freak out.”
Carlos didn’t care. He shrugged. “Dad’s out of town and Mom and the girls are
at some mother-daughter church thing. They won’t be home until late tomorrow.
Your dad’s going to be here in the morning, so they won’t even know you were
here. Get in.”
Still, the Native boy hesitated, one hand on the comforter that Carlos’
grandmother had crocheted for him. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”
That made Carlos fumble a bit as he got in. “I, I didn’t think you did. I
wasn’t going to -- I didn’t -- I mean --” He coughed and patted the empty spot
next to him. “Jesus, Cecil, you’re a depressed mess. That was the last thing on
my mind, honest to God. Just get in so we can go to sleep, please?”
“I fucked Mike tonight.”
Carlos closed his eyes and lay on his back, taking deep breaths. “I don’t
care,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Cecil was trying to irritate him.
He did that when he was especially depressed. He tried to push away anyone who
tried to help him when he was in that sort of mood. “Come on, get in.”
He stared at Cecil and Cecil stared back, then crawled in next to Carlos and
curled up on his side. “I want you to kiss me.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, an order that Cecil’s trembling lips said
he didn’t expect Carlos to follow even as his tone brooked no argument. Carlos
considered not obeying, but then he reached out and very gently stroked his
fingers down Cecil’s cheek. Cecil flinched like he’d been hit and his lips
trembled harder, but his gaze was steady. He shifted and slid his other arm
beneath Cecil’s neck and pulled him closer, still stroking his cheek, then
tilted his head down and very gently kissed Cecil on the tip of his nose. Then
he pulled back and rested his head on his pillow, smiling softly at his friend.
Cecil rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s what you get,” Carlos replied. “Well, maybe this, too …” He kissed
Cecil’s forehead, then cheek, then lay back again and gently stroked Cecil’s
arm and shoulder. “Ok?”
All Cecil did was curl up into as tight a ball as he could and snuggle into
Carlos’ embrace, closing his eyes. Carlos kissed the top of his head before
closing his own eyes.
~~~~~
“Mom was so nice,” was the first thing Carlos heard when he woke up. “You would
have loved her.” Cecil’s voice was quiet as he lay curled up against Carlos,
his head on Carlos’ shoulder and one hand lightly stroking small circles on his
chest. “She was so beautiful. Everyone loved her. She could talk to the
spirits, too. Once we -- I wanted to braid Dad’s hair before he left for work,
and he wouldn’t let me. So, so I asked Mom if I could, and she said yes. She
made Dad let us braid his hair and wouldn’t let him take it down for work. She
said he had to wear it all day, and he did. She took me to the station to see
him -- he’d forgotten his lunch because he was grumpy about the braid -- and
his coworkers were teasing him, because I’d put some of those little plastic
hair clips in his hair, too. But he just told them that his little boy had done
his hair, and they could fuck right the hell off if they didn’t like it.” He
laughed a little. “Then Mom scolded him for swearing in front of me.” Carlos
smiled and squeezed Cecil’s shoulder. That made him sigh and tilt his head up
to nuzzle Carlos’ neck before kissing it gently. “Dad’s always been serious,
but he smiled so much when he was with Mom. He still wears his wedding ring.”
“I know,” Carlos murmured. “I’m so sorry, Cecil.”
“I … I’m mad at her.” It was a whisper, full of guilt. Carlos could feel the
dampness on his shirt where Cecil’s tears were soaking through. He held him
tighter. “I’m so mad at her. I shouldn’t be -- she was protecting me. She was
keeping me safe. But I’m so mad at her for dying. I --” He choked up and
started crying for real, burying his face in Carlos’ shoulder as he sobbed.
Carlos wrapped both arms around him and let him cry, not knowing what to say.
He just held Cecil tightly and hoped that that was enough. “Am I bad for that?”
Cecil finally asked.
“No,” Carlos murmured firmly. “You’re not. That’s very normal, from what I’ve
read. I’d be angry, too.”
“Do you think I’m bad?”
Carlos tilted his head up and kissed his lips gently. “You’re one of the best
people I know,” he whispered against them, Cecil’s tears salty on his own lips.
“Your hair is perfect. Did you know that?”
Carls laughed and shook his head. “No. No one’s ever thought my hair was nice,
much less perfect.”
“Well, they’re wrong. You’d look great with dreds.” Cecil propped himself up on
one elbow and leaned over Carlos, running his fingers lightly over his poofy
hair that didn’t know if it wanted to be curly or just frizzy, and so settled
for an obnoxious mixture of both. An obnoxious mixture that Cecil apparently
loved. It warmed Carlos. He gently pressed kisses along Carlos’ hairline, which
made Carlos smile. Cecil looked really good in his shirt. “I still don’t want
to have sex,” the boy whispered against his skin.
“Hmm?” Carlos blinked slowly and realized that Cecil’s knee was between his
legs, and then he scooted up in a hurry and coughed in embarrassment. “Oh! I’m
sorry. No, that wasn’t -- that’s not -- it’s just a morning thing, it’s not, I
don’t want, I mean --”
Cecil kissed him on the lips with a soft laugh. “Ok. I get it. I like waking up
next to you.”
Carlos liked waking up next to Cecil, too. He didn’t say it, though. He just
brushed Cecil’s bangs behind his ear and let his hand travel around to the back
of Cecil’s neck, then to his shoulder and down his arm to where his hand rested
on Carlos’ chest. He tangled their fingers together and squeezed, smiling up at
Cecil. They just looked at each other for a long time, smiling, and then Cecil
lowered his forehead to Carlos’ collarbone as the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Dad.”
“Yeah,” Carlos agreed. He didn’t want to let Cecil go, but the bell rang again
and they pushed themselves up. Carlos left Cecil to go answer the door, and
offered Mr. Palmer a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Pa--” He was pushed out of the
way as Mr. Palmer, in slacks and an old t-shirt stretched across his broad
chest and grumpier than usual, walked inside and looked around. “Uhm, Cecil’s
getting dressed. I, uhm … How are you?”
He was ignored as Mr. Palmer walked up the stairs two at a time, so he went
into the kitchen instead and filled a Tupperware container with the rest of the
macaroni and cheese from the previous night. He heard footsteps and turned to
the doorway, where Mr. Palmer stood with Cecil, dressed and curled in his arms.
They looked at each other for a long moment before Carlos silently handed the
Tupperware over. Mr. Palmer took it with a nod, then turned and left the house.
Carlos walked after him and watched from the doorway as he got Cecil into the
cruiser, then sighed and closed the door once they’d driven off. He walked
slowly back to his room and sat heavily on his bed, looking at the rumpled
sheets where Cecil had lain before holding his head in his hands and staring at
the floor.
Cecil had been right about everything.
Chapter End Notes
     Thank you all for reading and keeping up with me. I really appreciate
     all of you.
     As usual, I have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly,
     LarissaFaeFics. Sometimes I remember to update there.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Summary
     Who is best dad? Mr. Palmer is best dad. Also, a bit 'o the sexy-
     sexies.
     *** NOTE ***
     I'd be lying if I said I was actively writing Company Policy, BUT, I
     haven't given it up. Sorry.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Cecil’s bed was warm. So was Cecil. Warm, and naked. So very, very naked.
Carlos’ body did the now-familiar heart-clench/stomach-twist that came with
being intimate with Cecil, or seeing him undressed, or sometimes even just
thinking about him. It was a problem. The heart-clench was fine, the
butterflies in his stomach were tolerable, the shortness of breath was
survivable. Carlos really didn’t mind those. Most of the time. He hadn’t minded
them enough the past three nights to go back home, where his parents thought he
was staying the last week before school started again at Marcus’. The stomach
twists made him nauseous, though. He felt sick with guilt, both for lying to
his parents and for continuing to have sex with his friend -- his male friend.
It was wrong, and he shouldn’t like it so much, shouldn’t need it like he did.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, idly stroking Cecil’s hair. The
other boy’s head rested on his shoulder, one hand curled on his chest as he
slept. His leg was between Carlos’ thighs, and his breath was soft as he
shifted slightly. Carlos looked down to see if he was awake yet. Touching him
was easier to do when the other boy wasn’t awake. Cecil was staring blankly
across the room and Carlos looked back up at the ceiling. It was convenient
that he liked to sleep on his back and Cecil liked to sleep on his side. A bit
too convenient. It was too easy to pull Cecil on top of him in the mornings, or
when one of them woke up in the night and that woke the other one up.
“You’re awfully calm,” he said quietly. Usually Cecil started fidgeting as soon
as he woke up, though he slept like a rock. There was no reply, and Carlos
looked down again. Cecil’s breathing was deep and even, while his eyes stayed
open. Carlos brought his free hand up to Cecil’s face, to the point of touching
his eyelashes, but he didn’t so much as twitch, and his pupils didn’t focus,
either. He was still fast asleep, and Carlos looked away quickly. They’d had a
cat, once, who had slept with her eyes open. It had been creepy then, and it
was creepier now. Carlos shifted and rolled onto his side, laying Cecil on his
back. He didn’t close his eyes with the movement, so Carlos gently covered
them, closing his eyelids like he was dead as he shivered, then crossed
himself. Cecil wasn’t dead. He didn’t even look dead. He hadn’t talked about
death in the four days Carlos had been over, either. Yes, he was calm and
utterly still, but that was how he slept, and he didn’t look like he was laid
out for his funeral, and Carlos, fed up with his morbid thoughts, leaned down
and kissed his beautiful friend firmly.
“Mmph!” Cecil jerked in surprise as that woke him up, and rather than pushing
Carlos away, his first reaction was to wrap his arms around Carlos’ shoulders
and kiss him back as his back arched up and he wiggled to the side, trying to
get under Carlos.
Carlos obliged him, kissing down his neck as he settled between Cecil’s legs
and gently rested his weight on the slighter boy. Cecil let out a soft sigh,
almost a whine, and dragged his nails down Carlos’ back. “I just wanted you to
close your eyes,” Carlos gasped, reflexively biting Cecil’s soft skin, making
him whimper and shudder.
“Well, fuck, just pinch me next time,” was the reply as they shifted against
each other.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Cecil laughed, one of his fists buried in Carlos’ hair and pulling. “All these
hickeys say something else, sweetie. Would you just kiss me, already?”
He really wanted Cecil to reach for the condoms and lube. Instead, he shook his
head. “God, no. Morning breath? Have you heard of it?”
That made Cecil groan. “Fine. Mmmph …”
He pulled Carlos up to cover his face with kisses, then pushed him out of his
way and rolled them both over, pressing closed lips to Carlos’ as he straddled
his hips. Carlos struggled to sit up and leaned back against the wall before
pulling Cecil tightly against him. One of Cecil’s hands had wandered between
them as Carlos pressed kisses and gentle bites to his chest -- he had
discovered the previous night, to his horror and pleasure both, that he was no
longer averse to touching or kissing Cecil’s very unfeminine chest. He quite
enjoyed it, actually. The planes and angles, Cecil’s soft, smooth skin -- they
were far more appealing than Maria’s body. Cecil squeezed him firmly and Carlos
flung his arm out as he groaned louder than he’d intended to, trying to open
the desk drawer that housed Cecil’s lube and condoms. He pulled away to look at
what he was doing and Cecil started sucking on his neck, laughing quietly to
himself. He liked to see if he could make Carlos grab for the supplies first.
Carlos had just wrapped his hand around the bottle of lube when Cecil’s father
pounded on the door, making them both yell and jump in surprise. “Get up, boy!
Your boyfriend moving in doesn’t mean you don’t have to do your chores.”
Cecil threw himself off of Carlos with a curse, scrambling for his bathrobe as
Carlos reached for his night clothes. “I’m up, sir!” he called back. “Getting
dressed! Need to shower!” There was an inaudible grumble as Mr. Palmer walked
off, then Cecil turned to Carlos with a flush darkening his already tan cheeks.
“Uhm, I’m sorry about that. He knows we’re not -- that you’re not my -- He’s
just grumpy.” He gestured to Carlos’ hips. “I’ll, uh, make that up to you
later. I’ve gotta shower before he gets mad.” He slipped out of the room as
Carlos finished pulling his t-shirt on. “Good morning, Dad! I’m up, see?
Getting in the shower! Excited to do chores!” He started singing off-key as he
turned the shower on.
Carlos sat back on the bed as he waited for Cecil to finish his shower so he
could take one. Mr. Palmer appeared in the doorway, glowering at him. He was in
uniform, but his shirt was draped over one arm and the white undershirt he wore
stretched tightly across his chest. Carlos looked up, then down quickly,
pretending not to notice. “Are you two out of condoms?” The man’s casual
acceptance of his son’s sex life still threw Carlos for a loop. He shrugged,
lowering his head and hunching his shoulders. “Well, look.”
“I don’t …” Carlos trailed off and sighed. It was useless to try to convince
Mr. Palmer that he and Cecil weren’t having sex. He knew the truth already.
Cecil probably told him all the details, even though when Carlos had haltingly
asked, he’d claimed that he only told the man it happened, and nothing else. He
leaned over and looked in the still-open drawer. “Almost,” he whispered.
Mr. Palmer grunted. “And lube?”
“… half a bottle …”
“That’s not going to last too long, at the rate you two are going,” the man
grumbled. “Boy needs a job.” He stepped into the room and crouched in front of
Carlos. “Look at me, boy.” The most Carlos could manage was flicking his gaze
to and from Mr. Palmer, but he seemed to accept that. “I know that you and
Cecil are having sex. You know that, right?” Carlos nodded as his heart skipped
more beats than was strictly healthy and his hands started shaking. “I don’t
like it. I think you’re very bad for Cecil in the long run, no matter how good
you are for him in the short run. I don’t want you to sleep with him, but I
can’t do a damn thing about it. He’ll do as he pleases -- with or without my
consent or knowledge -- and I would rather I knew what he was up to, so I can
make sure he’s as safe as possible. Are you moving in?”
Carlos started at the question and finally met Mr. Palmer’s eyes. He’d asked it
in a softer tone of voice than Carlos had ever heard him use, and his scowl had
turned into what looked like a concerned frown. On anyone else, Carlos would
have thought the man was worried about him. “Uhm, no? Why would I be?”
“Because your parents have made it very clear -- to both of us, I think -- that
if they catch you having sex with another boy, they’ll kick you out.” Carlos’
heart skipped a few more beats and he wondered if he was having a heart-attack
as he nodded shakily. Mr. Palmer sighed. “I wish I could arrest them for that
alone,” he murmured to himself as he looked to the side. Then he turned back to
Carlos and ran a hand through his silvering black hair. “Don’t get yourself
kicked out for having sex with a boy, Carlos. But you’re welcome to stay here
if that happens.”
“I wouldn’t,” Carlos protested. “Not at home.” The thought of having sex with
Cecil at home filled him with panic. “I don’t -- they wouldn’t really kick me
out. My parents love me. They’d be angry, yeah, they’d ground me or whatever.
But they wouldn’t kick me … out …” He trailed off at Mr. Palmer’s soft sigh and
the look of sympathy on his face. “... would they?”
“You would be surprised at how many loving parents kick their children out
because they’re queer,” the man replied quietly as the shower shut off and
Cecil’s off-key singing stopped. Mr. Palmer cleared his throat and stood up.
“Just be a good boyfriend to my son.”
He left before Carlos could protest that he and Cecil weren’t dating, but in
hindsight, it was probably better that Mr. Palmer thought they were. Better to
be thought boyfriends than fuck buddies. He listened as Cecil said goodbye to
his father in the living room, then got up and shuffled to the bathroom. He
glared at the covered mirror before ripping the towel off, then yelled and
jumped back at the sight of the huge, inky-black shape in the living room. He
whirled around as Cecil ran up, eyes huge.
“Cover that up!” He ducked down and grabbed the towel, then held it up in front
of him as he stood and covered the mirror again. Carlos’ heart was pounding in
his chest and he kept looking from the now-covered mirror to the empty living
room. Cecil whirled on him, eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t you ever uncover
that mirror, Carlos. God damn it, you could have gotten really fucking hurt.”
It had been a trick of the light. He’d just … it had been an optical illusion.
Carlos let Cecil yell at him for a little bit longer as he waited for his heart
to stop racing, then he nodded. “Ok. I’m sorry. I won’t … I’m sorry, Cecil.”
He got a tight hug. “I love you,” Cecil said firmly. “I don’t want you getting
hurt.”
Carlos tried to laugh, but it came out a bit strangled. He was going to have
nightmares about the roiling blackness that had been where he’d seen Cecil
standing. “I, uh … I’m ok, Cecil. I just … It wasn’t anything. I was just
seeing things.”
Cecil pulled back and looked at him sadly, then leaned up and kissed him. “I
love you,” he repeated. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” He stepped back and
cleared his throat. “Anyway. Uhm. I’ve gotta do my chores. You, uh, like, don’t
know how to fix roofs, do you? Because it’s leaking again, and you don’t have
to help, but it would be nice if Dad came home and didn’t have to do it. I’m
not allowed up high, see. I tried to …” He cleared his throat again and turned
away quickly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “You want a blowjob?”
he asked quietly. “Because Dad interrupted us and all …”
Carlos had already put together that Cecil got suicidal in his more depressed
periods and had been set to reassure his friend until Cecil’s question made him
choke on his words. Then he rolled his eyes and hugged the boy from behind.
“No,” he lied. “Why would I want that after you just told me you’ve tried to
jump off your roof?”
“I did jump,” Cecil mumbled.
“See? That’s not the sort of thing that makes me want … that.” Carlos turned
Cecil around and hugged him more tightly. “I’ll fix the roof if you guys have
the supplies I’ll need. I work in construction, you know.” Cecil nodded, arms
still across his chest, his cheek resting on Carlos’ shoulder. “Ok. Let me
shower. I won’t take the towel down again, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Cecil shuffled out of the bathroom and Carlos showered quickly. There was
breakfast on the table when he was done and he got through half of it before
kissing Cecil became more of a priority, and then undressing Cecil was an
important thing he had to do, and after that he really needed to carry Cecil -
- legs wrapped tightly around his waist -- back to the bedroom to finish what
they’d started that morning. Then a mutual shower was in order, which started
the process over again. All in all, it was almost noon before they both
stumbled outside. Mr. Palmer had left a long list of chores for Cecil to do,
probably in a half-hearted attempt to keep them out of the bedroom while he was
gone, and Carlos frowned at it as Cecil poked idly at the ground with a stick,
a ridiculously floppy neon yellow bow holding his hair out of his face.
“Here,” he said as he numbered the list. “You start these and I’ll start on the
roof. Ok? Just do one at a time. Once I’m done with the roof, I’ll help.”
“I love you.”
Carlos coughed, embarrassed, as Cecil took the list. “Uh, yeah. Just … just do
them quickly.”
The leak in the roof wasn’t hard to patch at all. Carlos finished quickly and
took half the list of chores from Cecil. Between the two of them, they were
finished by late afternoon. They showered again -- separately, this time -- and
then Cecil wanted to watch movies. Carlos was fine with that. They stretched
out on the couch together, Carlos propped up against the arm and Cecil laying
back against him, with popcorn and snacks and Cecil’s oversized blanket
covering them.
When Mr. Palmer got home a few hours later, that was how he found them, fast
asleep.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which there is a boys' night, Marcus is a master detective, and
     Carlos is an ass.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Cecil had been right about not needing a tutor after midterms if he passed,
which meant he and Carlos didn’t see each other that often anymore. He’d gotten
the intern position, anyway, and was always surrounded by new friends whenever
Carlos saw him in the halls. Sometimes they talked on the phone, but while
their conversations were always interesting, between both of them having jobs,
they never lasted long. Cecil’s breathless tardies continued, and Carlos had
started keeping a mental note of all the possible guys he could be sleeping
with.
No -- He stopped himself. Cecil wasn’t sleeping with anyone. Cecil was fucking
them -- or getting fucked. And it bothered Carlos. It bothered him so much. He
couldn’t understand how Cecil could be ok with having sex with people who meant
nothing to him. It wasn’t as if Cecil had anything to hide. Cecil didn’t care
if anyone knew he was gay. Cecil was extremely attractive, too, and kind, and
sociable, and witty. People liked Cecil. Cecil was all that, and willing to not
out the guys who didn’t want to be outed …
Carlos slammed his book shut with a scowl. Cecil, Cecil, Cecil. He could hardly
think about anything else. Staying the week before winter break had ended with
him had been a mistake on so many levels. He thought about Cecil’s skin
constantly, now. His smell, his taste, his touch. He wanted to be the only one
Cecil slept with. He wanted to be better than the others. He didn’t want to use
his friend.
“I’m so fucking done with this,” he finally growled.
Marcus looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Did you finally get an assignment
you can’t do?”
Yelling in the hallway kept Carlos from answering for a moment. Juana wanted to
wear pants to church the next day. Their mother was having none of it -- Juana
was still grounded after having one of her friends give her a pixie cut, and
wearing pants would make her look more like a boy. They continued their
argument down the stairs.
“No. I just … miss Maria.”
Marcus nodded wisely, as if he knew what it was like to be in a long-distance
relationship. Not that Carlos knew, either; but he knew what it was like to
want someone he couldn’t -- shouldn’t -- have. He knew what it was like to be
irrationally jealous whenever that someone walked by, arm-in-arm with another
guy, or when they came running in late to class, their face flushed and hair
messy.
Carlos had decided that he hated jealousy.
“Well, maybe we can visit over summer break. It’s not the Bahamas, but New
York’s alright.”
“And how am I supposed to get there?” Carlos snorted. “My parents don’t have
the money.”
The look Marcus gave him spoke volumes. “That’s why you have rich friends like
me, of course. Dad will pay. I don’t want to be around him and that woman,
anyway.”
Marcus’ father had married his girlfriend over winter break -- that was why
Marcus had gone to India, to attend the wedding. She was tall and pale and
blonde and he hated her, and Carlos got the feeling that the dislike was
mutual. Marcus threw his video game controller down in disgust as he died,
failing to beat Juana’s high score yet again, and turned it off before rolling
onto his back and kicking the chair Carlos was studying in. “So … what’s up
with you and that Native weirdo?”
Carlos’ pencil snapped as he tensed, and he muttered a curse. “What do you
mean?”
“I mean,” Marcus sighed as he sat up, “what’s up with you two? The guy’s
totally in love with you. And you usually spend a lot of time with him. Don’t
think I don’t know that you told your parents you were at my house over break.
You stayed with him, didn’t you? Are you two dating or what? I won’t tell if
you are -- I don’t give a crap who you fuck. You just spend a lot of time
together.”
Great. Even his best friend thought he was gay. Carlos shook his head. “He’s
just a friend. I was tutoring him. And I’m not gay.”
“Yeah, well, aside from you being a terrible liar, there’s this thing called
‘bisexuality.’ It means you’re into guys and girls. It’s pretty awesome. All
the cool kids are doing it. Are you staying over tonight?”
“If that’s ok. Are you saying you’re bi?”
Marcus laughed. “I’m one of the cool kids, aren’t I?”
“That’s debatable. Money doesn’t make you cool.”
“Yes, it does. It makes you cooler than you could ever imagine. You just don’t
take advantage of it. So, you’re not fucking Cecil? Huh. You’re one of the few
who hasn’t.” Marcus was choosing another game and Carlos turned to look at him,
hoping that he could keep an even face for once in his life. He really was a
bad liar.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the guy gets around. He’s a total slut. Really good in bed, from what
I hear, and a mouth like a fucking Hoover, but you don’t get that good without
a lot of practice.”
Hearing all that from Marcus was more infuriating than hearing it from Cecil,
even if Carlos knew it was true already. He glowered at his friend. “And where
did you hear all that gossip?”
Marcus shot him a speculative look, then shrugged. “Aside from Cecil himself?
All the guys he’s fucked, and some of the girls. And those are just the ones
who talk about it -- Cecil likes fucking straight guys and guys who are in the
closet, so he may well have fucked all the guys in school by now. I can’t blame
him. He’s weird and creepy and probably on drugs, but he’s hot. Not quite my
type, but maybe I should hit him up …”
“No,” Carlos almost yelled as he turned sharply. Then his cheeks burned and he
looked down. “I mean, uhm …”
Marcus had jerked around in surprise, and stared at Carlos. “Wow. I’ve never
seen someone so jealous over someone they’re not even attracted to. Fine.
Because you’re my friend, I won’t fuck him. Happy?”
“No,” Carlos mumbled. “I’m not jealous. Cecil’s just … He’s got issues.
Sleeping around won’t fix them.”
“Yeah, his mother dying probably messed him up a lot.” Marcus turned back to
his game. “If I’d watched my mom get murdered --”
“What?”
Marcus sighed, shut the console off, and turned around again with a frown. “Oh,
right. You weren’t here for it. It was a huge thing.”
“But … I thought … Cecil said she fell …”
Marcus snorted. “Carlos, they found pieces of her a quarter mile away from
where she died. Little pieces. Cecil said she fell?”
That made Carlos frown as he thought back to that distant conversation. “Well …
he said it had been raining, and he was at the edge of a ravine, and that she
took his place. I just …”
“Assumed she’d fallen.” Marcus shrugged. “Nope. She was butchered. Eaten, and
not just by animals. The teeth marks were human -- well, human enough. Cecil
said the wendigo took her, but what else was he going to say? The Navajo Nation
tried to keep the FBI out of it, but couldn't after they’d confirmed that a
human had chewed on her. They took the dad in for a bit, but couldn’t pin it on
him. Cecil’s never said who killed her.” He shook his head as Carlos stared at
him in horror. “So, yeah, he’s gotta be pretty fucked up. But hey, if sleeping
around’s his way of coping, you know? At least he hasn’t killed anyone. Yet. On
second thought, I think I won’t fuck him.”
“You already said you wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I was lying. You know, that thing that you can’t do? But this time
I mean it. But seriously, don’t get involved with him. He’s bad news -- weird
shit always happens around him.” Marcus stretched, popping his back, as Carlos
flashed back to Erika and that horrifying shape he’d seen in Cecil’s bathroom
mirror with a shiver. “You don’t care that I’m bi?”
“Oh, you weren’t lying about that?” Carlos asked sarcastically. Marcus flipped
him off. “No. Why would I?”
“Because you’re Mister Good, Uptight Catholic Boy.”
Carlos shook his head. “I’m not even sure God exists. I’m more concerned as to
why your name is ‘Marcus Vansten’ when your parents immigrated from India.”
He’d always meant to ask, but hadn’t wanted to be rude.
His friend laughed. “Cultural assimilation. ‘Jagdeep Patel’ doesn’t command as
much respect from the crackers as ‘Marcus Vansten’ does. Mom and Dad knew I’d
have a tougher time with an Indian name, so they gave me an American one -
- well, a white one. Fuckin’ racist white people.”
“Your stepmom’s white.”
“And I hate the bitch!” Marcus yelled. “She could be my older sister, Carlos.
She’s twenty-three years younger than Dad. Fuck. He used to tell Mom she was
the most beautiful woman in the world, and then he marries the whitest woman he
can find after she dies? What the fuck sort of shit is that?” His lower lip was
trembling and his fists were clenched. Carlos had never seen Marcus so upset,
so he slid out of his chair and hugged him. Marcus stiffened. “Wha--”
“You need a hug.” He was broader across the chest and shoulders than Cecil was,
Carlos noted. Marcus relaxed and hugged him back, forehead resting on his
shoulder as his grip tightened. It felt good to hug someone. It felt really
good. Carlos thought that maybe he should find more people to hug.
After a minute or so, Marcus pulled back with a sniffle. He sighed, and his
smile was faint. “Thanks. Didn’t think you were the hugging type.”
“I was tutoring Cecil three times a week. If he doesn’t have an existential
crisis at least one of those days, he’s not feeling well. I mean, less well
than usual. Hugs calm him down.”
Marcus snorted lightly and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s totally not an excuse to
touch you. Totally.”
It was Carlos’ turn to laugh. “It’s not, but he never lets the opportunity for
a hug go by.” Or a kiss. A lot of kisses. Carlos missed kissing Cecil. “I
really don’t know what he sees in me.”
“He likes the straight boys. No emotional attachment. He really doesn’t like
emotional attachments.”
That made Carlos frown as he thought back on his relationship with Cecil, even
just that last week of winter break. “So why does he say he loves me?”
Marcus shrugged. “Because he’s crazier than a shithouse rat? Or maybe he really
does love you. I don’t try to understand that guy. Does it bug you?”
It should have. It should have really bugged him. Every look, every smile,
every chanced touch, every kiss, every time they had sex -- none of it bothered
him except for the guilt. He liked it. He wished that he and Cecil could spend
more time alone together.
Which, upon very little inspection, was the absolute worst reaction Carlos
could be having to another guy’s affection and desire for him. He should be
running away from Cecil, not thinking of ways to get closer to him.
“Not as much as my parents wish it would,” he finally answered.
“Well, just don’t get caught messing around with him, if you decide to try
dick.” Marcus turned back to his game, clearly done with the conversation, and
Carlos grabbed a pillow from his bed and smacked him with it. “Hey!”
“Don’t say shit like that. My parents might hear you and then I’ll be screwed.”
There was more yelling in the hallway -- Carlos’ father had been pulled into
the church clothes debate. “Come on, let’s get out of here. These people are
driving me crazy.” He stood and grabbed a few things for overnight, then opened
his door and ducked a wild hand gesture from his father. “Hey!” He was ignored,
and slipped past his parents and Juana. “I’m staying at Marcus’ tonight!” he
called over his shoulder as Marcus followed him. “See you later!”
“I don’t think they heard you.”
Carlos shrugged, kneeling down to give the three younger girls hugs and kisses
as they hid from the fight downstairs. “You all be good. I don’t care. I’ll
text them from your place.” He hesitated as they walked out the door. “Uhm …
Wanna go do something? Get some pizza?”
Marcus laughed. “What’s this? You’re being willingly social? Yeah -- let’s go
score some chicks and dicks.”
“Or just pizza.”
They got in Marcus’ car as he snorted. “Come on, live a little more than not
asking permission to stay over and wanting to actually do shit. Let’s get pizza
and see a movie. Let’s stay up and out past ten. Come on, Carlos. I don’t want
to be at my place any more than you want to be at yours.”
“Well, you’re the one driving, and it’s your car. I’m at your mercy.”
“Yeah!” Marcus grinned at him and Carlos grinned back. “We’ll see a movie, then
hit up the All-Nite. There’s bound to be a fight if we stay late enough.” His
cackle was positively evil; Marcus loved watching drunken fights at the
Moonlite All-Nite Diner.
“All right, but tip the server this time or we’ll be fighting. You’re an
absolute dick to wait staff and you need to make up for it.”
He got waved off. “Oh, please. It’s their job, Carlos.”
“And they make less than minimum wage! If you’re not tipping, it’s like they’re
paying you to eat there.”
“One,” Marcus said firmly, “I like the idea of being paid to eat at
restaurants. Two, it’s not my fault they’re not paid enough. Why do I have to
pick up their employer’s slack?”
Carlos rolled his eyes. “Because it’s basic fucking decency, you absolute
asshole. And you can afford it! And if you don’t start tipping,” he threatened,
“I’m going to tell my mother. And she will kill you.”
“Fuck,” Marcus grumbled as he pulled up to the line of cars waiting at the
drive-in. Carlos’ mother had been a waitress up until very recently, and few
things terrified Marcus more than Mrs. Garcia in a rage. “Fine. I’ll let you
handle the tip.”
“Score one for the poors,” Carlos laughed. “I’m going to give our server a
thirty dollar tip. What are we seeing?”
“That new horror flick looks good.” Marcus rolled his window down to get their
tickets, then pulled forward toward the right lot. “Come on, let’s get some
snacks.” They got out and Marcus bumped into Carlos. “Since I’m paying for
tonight, does this make you my trophy boyfriend?” Carlos shoved him into a
pole, then dodged a punch before getting him into a headlock, dragging him
across the parking lot as Marcus laughed and tried to get free. “I’m going to
tell your parents you went to a movie if you don’t let me go, asshole.”
“Ooh, tell them we went to the porn theater.” Carlos let him go and they
exchanged punches. “That’d be great. They won’t know whether to kill me for
watching porn or rejoice in my straightness.”
“Naw, I’ll tell them we watched gay porn.”
“I’ll push you into traffic, Marcus, I swear to God.” Marcus laughed. “Really.
I mean it. Don’t even tease.”
“See, if you were my trophy boyfriend, it wouldn’t matter.” Marcus backed
through the snack bar door, ignoring the people he bumped into and the dirty
looks he got for it. “If you got kicked out, I could set you up with a nice
apartment, get you a better wardrobe, maybe a haircut …”
“I’m a man of principle,” Carlos sniffed as he smoothed his flannel shirt. “My
affections can’t be bought.”
They inched forward with the line as Marcus rolled his eyes. Carlos liked the
drive-in. There was more energy to it than a regular theater, and he liked
being able to get up and move around when he wanted to. The owners threatened
to shut it down every year, but the community always turned out in droves to
keep it in business. There were seven screens, a playground, and you could see
two movies for less than the price of a regular theater’s ticket -- and, if you
stayed after the second movie on a Friday or a Saturday, they always played the
first one again.
Carlos shivered in the breeze from the constantly-opening doors. “Get me some
hot cocoa, sugar daddy.”
Marcus snorted. “You can’t get the benefits of being a trophy boyfriend without
actually being a trophy boyfriend. Yeah, a large popcorn, two of the big hot
dogs, and two hot cocoas, sweetie. There’s a good girl,” he said to the snack
bar attendant. Her smile tightened and Carlos hit his shoulder. “Whaaaaat?!”
“She’s an employee, not a dog, you insufferable dick. I’m sorry,” he apologized
as the girl giggled. “He’s a jerk. He can’t help it; he’s rich.”
“It’s ok.”
“See?!”
“She’s paid to be nice to jerks like you,” Carlos snapped.
Marcus huffed and handed Carlos his share of the food. “You know what? I don’t
want you to be my trophy boyfriend anymore. I’m not even sure I want you to be
my friend. I need someone who will appreciate and respect my social position
and wealth.”
“You mean fawn mindlessly over you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
They got back to the car as the previews were starting. After the third one,
Carlos turned to his friend. “I just thought of a great drinking game.”
“Really?” Marcus sipped at his hot cocoa. “Do tell.”
“When you’re watching a movie, take a drink for each preview that stars a white
person. Two for every non-white sidekick or villain. And like ten for every
stereotype of non-white or non-straight people.”
Marcus just stared at him for a moment. “That’s not a drinking game, Carlos.
That’s liver failure.” Then he started laughing.
“Well, it can be a mandatory white person game. Maybe then we’d get some better
media representation.”
Marcus doubled over with laughter as Carlos grinned and texted his parents to
let them know he was staying with Marcus. They didn’t stop talking through both
movies -- a cheesy romance followed by the equally-cheesy horror flick -- which
was another reason Carlos loved the drive-in. With the windows rolled up, he
and Marcus could be as loud as they wanted without bothering anyone. And they
got loud. They yelled, discussed plot holes, mocked the characters, and made up
their own dialogue. Their friends and families hated watching movies with them,
which was why Carlos and Marcus went to the drive-in together. They could be as
obnoxious as they wanted, there.
Almost four hours later, they were driving out of the parking lot, making
growly monster noises at each other and laughing. The movie had completely
ripped off the ROUS scene from The Princess Bride -- a favorite of both of
theirs -- at which point the gloves had come off and they’d torn the rest of
the movie to shreds.
“There is no way they wouldn’t have put together that they’d built their house
over the nest. Who sees they have a demon-infested basement and stays in the
house?!”
“White people,” Marcus replied. “Jesus, Gloria heard something in the attic the
other night and wanted Dad to check it out. I told her she was crazy -- if it
was an animal, we could put out poison in the daytime. If it was a person, we’d
hear them when they left. But Jesus Christ, why go up alone, in the dark?”
“Mom and Dad heard stuff in the attic, once. They called the priest to bless
the house.”
“See? Brown people have their shit together.” Marcus turned toward the Moonlite
All-Nite Diner. “Still, we wouldn’t have horror movies without white people’s
stupidity, so, thanks, white people. God bless ya.”
Carlos groaned suddenly. “Shit. We have a new priest starting tomorrow.
Apparently he’s trained to do exorcisms.”
“No way. Really? That’s awesome. The Catholic Church still does exorcisms?”
“Well, the Mexican one does, at least. We imported him. Ten bucks says my
parents try to get him to exorcise the gay out of me.”
“They’d have to get the gay in you first, unless you just made a confession.”
Marcus did a bad impression of the sign of the cross at Carlos. “Bless you, my
gay child.”
Carlos sighed as they parked. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I’m not … I’m not
saying I am. But why won’t you all believe me?”
Marcus sighed and turned toward him, a slight frown on his face as he looked
his friend over. “Are you serious? I mean, you really want to know?”
“Jesus, stop acting like someone died.” Carlos slumped lower in his seat.
“Well, you tend to freak out when people ask about your sexuality,” Marcus
reminded him gently, “and I don’t want to get yelled at. Again.”
Carlos stared into the restaurant. “Just tell me.” There were two men sitting
in the booth in front of them. The younger man was laughing as he gestured
excitedly, then ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair and pulled
it into a small ponytail. A few chunks of it escaped and fell forward,
partially obscuring the strong line of his jaw.
“Well, for one, you’re totally checking out that hot guy right there.” Carlos
looked down sharply as his cheeks burned. “You don’t pay attention to girls the
way you do guys. You watch guys. It’s nothing creepy, it’s just … obvious.
That’s a guy thing,” Marcus assured him. “Guys are just obvious when we’re
checking someone out. It’s actually kind of cute when you do it, because you
don’t realize you’re doing it, and then you get all flustered when someone
points it out. And your little tiny weenie voice is totally gay. Plus, you make
woobly eyes at Cecil like no woobly eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s like, damn, just
confess your undying love and fuck him, already.”
“Look, even if I was gay -- which I’m not -- it’s not like I could come out. My
parents would kick me out and disown me, my church would probably excommunicate
me … I’d lose more than I’d gain.” Carlos finally got out of the car and Marcus
followed suit. “And my voice doesn’t sound gay!”
“Yes, it does. Do you really care that much about your church? Two, toots.”
That was said to the hostess. Marcus walked backward as he talked. “You’re
pretty much an atheist.”
They were sat two booths down from the handsome Latino man and his friend. “I
care about my community. Uh, a Dr Pepper, please. Thank you.”
“Yeah, me, too. Look, any community who would kick you out for being gay isn’t
a real community. Hypothetically speaking, ‘cause you’re not gay.”
Marcus had brought in the backpack of games that he kept in his car, and was
pulling them out. Carlos grabbed Uno and opened it. The Latino man was waving a
book around, now, as he talked in a pleasantly low voice. “Yeah, but they’re
all I have.”
“Stop staring.”
“What?”
“You’re staring. You’re doing the guy thing where we stare at people we think
are hot. Yeah, he’s pretty fine, but put your eyes back in your head. Oh, you
asshole. A draw four right off the bat? You dick.”
“You deserve it,” Carlos grumbled, looking back down at his cards.
“I’m gonna tell Cecil you’re cheating on him. He’ll cry.”
“Well, he’s got a lot of people to help him get over it. What do you want to
eat?”
“Banana split. So, look, I was serious about going to New York this summer. You
can get away from your family, explore a bit, maybe meet a guy … I mean, if you
wanted to experiment and totally confirm your straightness. Ha! Green!”
Carlos threw down a wild card and Marcus swore. “Blue. You’re forgetting that I
just turned sixteen. I’m not exactly old enough to be running around New York
on my own.”
“You’d have me there, you jackass -- stop with the reverses! -- and fake I.D.s
are a thing.”
“I’d rather not break the law. I’ll be taking a lot of college courses over the
summer, too. And I don’t need to sleep with a complete stranger to know I don’t
like guys. I mean, have you been with anyone?”
Marcus shrugged. “Uhm … not any guys. Not yet.”
“But you know you want to.”
“Yeah.”
Carlos kicked his friend under the table. “Uno! So don’t pull this ‘you won’t
know if you like it until you try it’ shit. It’s sexual attraction, not food.”
That made Marcus laugh. “Yeah, but pussy tastes good.”
“Jesus Christ, Marcus, we’re in public.” Carlos looked around to make sure that
no one had heard. The handsome man was covering his mouth as he laughed, but he
didn’t seem to be laughing at Marcus. He caught Carlos looking at him, though,
and winked. Carlos ducked his head.
“Doesn’t make it not true. You gonna keep staring, or play the damn game?”
Carlos laid his final card down and Marcus swore again. “You’re such a sore
loser.”
“Fuck you, man. Let’s play something else.”
“Something you can actually win?” Carlos grinned.
“Yeah. Something I can actually win.”
They stayed for another couple of hours, until it was clear that Marcus wasn’t
going to get his fight. He took it good-naturedly, making their waitress
promise to start a fight the next time they were in, if she had to. It was
almost three by the time they’d gotten back to Marcus’ house, which was late
enough for Marcus to indulge in his secret passion for Hindi dramas. They
settled in his king-sized bed and he explained all the twists and turns to
Carlos, who was trying not to laugh at his friend’s dedication.
He had other things on his mind soon enough, though, and stared down at the
comforter. “You know … even if I did sleep with a guy, it wouldn’t make me
gay.”
Marcus was trying to cry as inconspicuously as possible, and gulped back tears
as he looked at Carlos. “Huh?”
“Having sex doesn’t mean you’re sexually attracted to the person. Your body
reacts to stimulation. It doesn’t mean that, that you want it. Or them.”
He wasn’t looking up, and Marcus was quiet for a few moments before he put two
and three together and got five, at which point he let out an excited whoop and
leapt up, yelling gibberish as he bounced up and down and pointed at Carlos.
Carlos threw the covers over his head, but Marcus jumped on him and shook him
as he cackled.
“You did it! Aaaaah! Dude, you fucked a guy! Oh my God! When? Where? Who?! Why
didn’t you tell me sooner? Oh my God! Was it good? What did you do? Come on,
man, spill!”
“Get off!” Carlos begged. He covered his head with a pillow. “Nothing happened!
I didn’t do anything! It’s not -- it wasn’t --”
“Liar! You motherfucking shithead cocksucking liar! Oh God, did you?! Did you
blow him? Carlooooos!” Marcus buried his way beneath the covers and lay on top
of Carlos, slapping and pinching him as he continued to cackle. “Come on, tell
me! I won’t tell anyone!”
He wanted to tell. It was driving him crazy, not being able to talk to anyone
about his relationship with, and mixed feelings for, Cecil. Carlos took a deep
breath as his heart pounded and his gut clenched. He felt like he was going to
be sick. “It was Cecil.”
Marcus choked on his excitement. He rolled off of Carlos and kicked his feet
with a squeal of glee before pulling the covers over their heads again. “Of
course! I knew it would be,” he whispered. Carlos groaned. “How was it? When
did it happen? What happened? Was it just once? No wonder you’re so messed up
about him. I can’t believe that you fucked a guy before I did. I’m so mad at
you.”
Carlos’ laugh was nervous, and he didn’t move the pillow from his head. “Uhm …
prom night …” Marcus squealed with excitement again. He sounded ridiculous. “It
was … I … I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. What did you guys do? Who started it? Don’t leave me hanging,
Carlos.”
“Why, so you can beat off to it later? Look, it happened, all right? We … It
happened. I don’t know. I just … He’s so … Ugh, and he tells his dad
everything. His dad knows. And he’s mad. He’s going to kill me. He doesn’t want
me near Cecil. Have you met him, Marcus?! The man’s a fucking tank. And if my
parents find out, I’m dead.”
“I doubt Cecil’s dad will tell anyone. If he did, Cecil might get in trouble -
- and he’s one cold motherfucker, but he won’t let anyone hurt Cecil. Broke a
guy’s arm when CPS took him, apparently.”
That made Carlos peek out from under the pillow with a frown. “CPS took Cecil?”
“Yeah, when his mom died. They arrested his dad for a bit, and put Cecil in
foster care. I mean, nothing came of it and it was only for a few months, but
apparently, when they arrested Mr. Palmer, Cecil freaked out when they told him
he was going to a foster home and his dad just lost his shit. Damn near
overturned a car, from what Dad told me, and put a couple officers in the
hospital just to get to Cecil. So, what, you were just bored after prom, or
something?”
In all their time together the past few months, with all of Cecil’s talk about
his mother, he hadn’t said a word about any of what Marcus had just revealed.
Carlos’ chest hurt as he thought about it. No wonder Cecil and his father were
so protective of each other. He let out a slow breath and shook his head. “No,
the girls took over one room and we were tired, so we slept in the other room.”
Marcus hummed with curiosity and Carlos hid his face again. “I just … someone
was a jerk to him, and he was down about it, so I offered to dance with him,
and we just … It just happened.”
“Oh, God,” Marcus giggled, “sex doesn’t just happen, you nitwit. Did he
seduuuuuce you?” He hadn’t had to. Carlos groaned and shook his head. “Did you
seduce him?” Another shake. Marcus groaned. “This is like pulling teeth,
Carlos. Come on.”
Telling Marcus what had happened without letting on about any of their other
exploits was difficult, but Carlos managed to mumble his way through the night.
Marcus listened intently, barely able to contain his excitement, and as much as
it embarrassed Carlos to admit to someone else that he and Cecil had had sex,
it was also a huge relief to finally have someone to talk about it with.
“My parents will kill me,” he finished. “What do I do?”
“Stop insisting you’re straight, at least to me, for one,” was the prompt
reply. “Look, you’re not tutoring him anymore, right? So you don’t have to be
near him. Just avoid him.”
“But he’s my friend,” Carlos protested. “I don’t want to lose a friend.”
“Then tell him it was just an experiment. And if you don’t want your parents
finding out, don’t tell them. It’s that simple. I’m not going to tell, and
neither will Cecil -- he admits he’s a slut, but he doesn’t name names.” Marcus
leaned against him. “You’re awfully worried about this, Carlos, for it to have
been just a one-time thing. This is the first time you two have done anything,
right?” Carlos may have been crying, sick to his stomach at how much he enjoyed
being with Cecil no matter what they were doing, and the looming conviction
that cutting off their sexual intimacy wasn’t something that he could do. “Oh,”
Marcus said quietly. “Well. Uhm … How’s your self-control?” Carlos hunched his
shoulders and sobbed harder as he shook his head. Marcus sighed deeply. “I’m
sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do you love him?”
“I don’t know,” Carlos whispered. “I can’t.”
“Well, shit, man. You’re kinda screwed.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” Carlos curled up on his side. “I can’t tell him
no. He doesn’t even ask. He just … exists. And he won’t tell me no. And I can’t
… I’ve tried to ignore it, to just tutor him or hang out, but we always end up
… doing stuff. I’m disgusting.”
“What, for liking guys? I like guys, too. Am I disgusting?”
Marcus was rightfully offended, and Carlos shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
“So why would you be?”
“I just am, all right?”
“Oh, bullshit.” Marcus sat up and huffed. “You only think you’re disgusting
because your fucking cult has brainwashed you into thinking that being anything
other than straight is bad.”
“The Church isn’t a cult.” Carlos defended beliefs he didn’t share weakly.
“Sure it is. It isn’t good for you, Carlos. Look at you -- you’re a depressed
mess. What are you going to do? Marry Maria, who at least knows you’re gay,
have some kids, and pretend you’re happy for the rest of your miserable life?
You’ll be an alcoholic by the time you’re thirty.”
“‘M not gay,” Carlos mumbled into his pillow.
Marcus ignored him. “Or, you could admit you’re gay, move out as soon as you
can, and get on with your life as a happy fag.”
“That’s a slur.”
“Not if I’m using it. I’m kind of faggy, too.”
“My parents are paying for college. And not charging me rent once I’m eighteen.
And I can’t leave the girls.”
Marcus scoffed and rolled onto his back. “Fine. Stay in the closet. Just admit
you’re there.”
“No.”
“You stubborn jackass.”
They were quiet for only a few moments before Carlos sat up abruptly. “What
good would it do if I was gay and came out? It wouldn’t change anything. I
wouldn’t be able to date. I couldn’t get married. The only thing that would
happen is that I’d have to be afraid my parents would find out, and probably
get kicked out and lose all my financial support if they did.”
“Cecil would date you and not tell anyone. Maybe let you stay with him if you
got kicked out.”
“Cecil fucked two guys -- at once -- during prom,” Carlos snapped. Marcus let
out a low whistle. “I don’t want to date anyone that promiscuous.”
“But you’ll fuck him,” Marcus said flatly. “He’s good enough to fuck, but he’s
not good enough to date.” Carlos stared at him, cheeks burning and mouth
gaping, and he snorted. “That’s fucked up, man. Fucked. Up.” He rolled over.
“I’m going to sleep. The bullshit in here stinks.”
It was a long time before Carlos could sleep.
Chapter End Notes
     Way harsh, Marcus. Way harsh.
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Summary
     Gloria is amazing, and who's that new priest?
     *** this update is gallifreyian_refugee's fault
     **** Thank you, rudbeckia, for the invaluable feedback as to Father
     Jaime. I really appreciate it.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
018
Marcus hadn’t said anything to him all morning, and Carlos was regretting
staying up so late. He was regretting a lot of things about the previous night.
They shuffled down to get some breakfast, Carlos trying to ignore the glares
that his friend kept throwing his way, and found an attractive blonde woman
sitting at the table and nursing a cup of coffee.
Marcus shifted his glare from Carlos to her as she glanced up at them. “Your --
”
“I don’t fucking care,” Marcus snapped. He stomped over to the fridge and threw
it open.
“-- father --”
“Still don’t care.”
“-- wanted me to tell you --”
Marcus spun around, a carton of orange juice and some leftovers in his arms.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Carlos shifted, uncomfortable with his friend’s anger at his stepmother. “Come
on, Marcus, chill out.”
The woman smiled tightly at him. She almost looked hungover. She certainly
looked unamused with Marcus’ behavior. “Hi. I’m Gloria. You must be Carlos.”
He nodded. “Uh, yeah. Hi. I’m sorry about Marcus.”
His friend was still bitching to himself as he heated up the food, and Gloria
shrugged. “Whatever. He’s not obligated to like me. Hey,” she called sharply.
Marcus spun around with a snarl and a knife gripped tightly in one hand. Gloria
didn’t even blink as she yawned. “Blah blah blah, bullshit about not wanting to
replace your mother, blah blah, I love your father, let’s just be friends,
yadda yadda yadda, emotional intimacy and bonding, and so on and so forth.
There. We’ve talked like your father wanted.”
That made Marcus pause. “The fuck are you talking about, woman?”
She raised her cup and took a long drink. “Blah blah blah, bullshit about not
wanting to replace your mother, blah blah, I love your father, let’s just be
friends, yadda yadda yadda, emotional intimacy and bonding, and so on and so
forth. Your father thinks we just need time to bond and then we’ll be bestest
besties. I think I don’t want you anywhere near me unless you’ve been cavity-
searched for weapons first.” Her dry, almost bored tone made Carlos snort with
amusement, much to Marcus’ irritation. She pulled a small bottle of Jack
Daniels out of her bathrobe pocket and poured the rest of it into her mug
before taking another drink. “So there. We talked. Mission accomplished.”
Marcus and Carlos stared at her for a moment before the microwave dinged.
“You’re a fucking lush.”
“Naw, this is the only booze I’ll have all day. I just need a little help in
dealing with you. Want some?”
She offered the mug, but Marcus just rolled his eyes and stalked out of the
kitchen as Carlos stood there awkwardly. A moment later, he reappeared in the
doorway. “And by the way, I like dick.”
“Well,” Gloria sighed deeply into her drink, “we finally have something in
common.”
Marcus let out a garbled howl before Carlos pushed him out of the kitchen,
laughing as Gloria just smiled smugly. “Come on, man, you can’t shock her. I
need to get home so we can go to church.” His stomach twisted as he said the
words. Carlos didn’t feel like going to church after the previous night’s
emotional confessions. His parents would freak out if he asked to stay home,
though, and might not let him stay over at Marcus’ again. Marcus bitched about
his stepmother all through breakfast and the whole way to Carlos’ house, but he
did manage to tell Carlos to just say he wasn’t feeling well before driving
off. His family was almost ready to leave when he walked in the door, at which
point his mother approached him with a comb. He shuffled his feet a bit. “Uh,
Mom … I was wondering if maybe I could stay home today. I don’t feel well.”
His mother glared at him as she yanked the comb through his hair. “Well, you
shouldn’t have run off to Marcus’ house and stayed up all night. Are you drunk?
Were you drinking?”
Carlos pulled away with a scowl and covered his head protectively. “No, Mom.
I’m not drunk, we weren’t drinking, and I’m not hungover. I just don’t feel
well. Can’t I go home? Or stay in the car?”
“Carlos Hernando Garcia --”
He heaved a disgusted sigh and gave up. “Fine. Whatever. If I throw up on the
new priest, it’s your fault.”
He got another glare as he was pushed toward his room. “Go change. I don’t like
your attitude these days, Carlos. That friend of yours has made you disobedient
and argumentative. I don’t want you around him anymore.” She stood outside his
door as he changed. “He’s a bad influence on you.”
“Marcus isn’t a bad influence on me, Mom.”
“I wasn’t talking about Marcus. I was talking about that other boy, or whatever
he is.”
He sighed and pulled his belt a notch tighter than the week before. “You mean
Cecil? I don’t see him except for at school. He’s got nothing to do with
anything.” But his skin would look great against the green of Carlos’ sheets,
and there would be a lot more room on Carlos’ much bigger bed … He squeezed his
eyes shut and tied his tie by feel alone. “Mom, I really don’t feel well.”
“You were well enough to sneak out and go to Marcus’, so you’re well enough to
go to church.” She looked him up and down when he opened his door. “You need a
haircut. Come on.”
He slid into the center part of their minivan and Juana sat next to him as the
girls piled in the back. Juana was also scowling as she plucked at the overly-
frilly dress she was wearing. It was low enough to show off cleavage, and their
mother had obviously done her makeup. Carlos suspected the whole thing was an
attempt to de-emphasize Juana’s new haircut. She glanced over at him and rolled
her eyes, a gesture he returned. They got lectures from both parents on the way
to church. Their behavior was disrespectful and unacceptable, they were going
to get in a lot of, or a lot more, trouble if they didn’t start behaving
better, they needed to listen to their parents … Carlos tuned them out after
pointing out his continuing 4.5 GPA and perfect attendance, not to mention how
well he was doing at his job, made them yell louder. He ignored them until they
were outside the church, joining the mass of people greeting the new priest
before the services started.
The attractive new priest.
The attractive new priest with the long black hair and strong jaw.
The attractive new priest who had been at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner the
previous night, and who had probably heard what he and Marcus had been talking
about.
“Mom, I don’t feel well!” Carlos hissed as his heart started pounding and
adrenaline flooded his veins. He needed to leave. He couldn’t meet the new
priest. The new priest would tell his parents what he and Marcus had been
talking about -- he’d tell them he’d seen Carlos out. His panic was ignored
even as he tried to turn away, but the crowd pressed him back and then his
father turned him back around and he was suddenly face-to-face with the new
priest, who was giving him the same grin as the night before.
“Ah, you must be Carlos,” he said warmly in Spanish, holding his hand out.
Carlos took it numbly as he stuttered, but the handshake was quick. “I’m Father
Jaime. I hear you’ve got a hell of a right hook.” Paolo was on the other side
of him, studiously not looking at Carlos. “Is Spanish alright?”
“Of course it is, Father Mendez. All of our children speak Spanish,” his mother
said sweetly. “Yes, this is our son, Carlos, and our daughters -- Juana,
Lenora, Alonsa, and Anita. Please excuse Juana’s hair. She had one of her
friends cut it without our permission.”
Juana looked like she was going to burst into tears before Father Jaime grinned
at her. “Call me Father Jaime, please. And a friend cut it? I thought it was a
professional job. It looks really good on you.”
“Now, Father --”
“Really?” Juana asked as she raised a hand to her hair.
He nodded. “Absolutely. It suits your face very well.”
“But it’s her hair!” Their mother was scandalized.
“And hair grows back,” Father Jaime said gently. “Besides, it’s Juana’s hair,
right? She should be able to do what she wants with her own hair. I see no
one’s forbidden you from dying yours, Mrs. Garcia.”
“Well, I’m an adult.” She looked at him over the rims of her glasses, her eyes
narrowed. “Are you an adult?”
Father Jaime grinned. “Amazingly, yes, you do have to be an adult to become a
priest. Are you all involved in church activities?”
That was said to the children, and Carlos shrugged. “I’ve got a job. I, uh,
used to be in the choir at our last church, though.”
“The girls are all in the choir,” Mrs. Garcia put in proudly. “Now, Father
Mendez --”
“Father Jaime, please.”
“-- Father Mendez, you do follow Church teachings, right?”
Carlos swallowed sharply and Father Jaime glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
“They wouldn’t let me be a priest if I didn’t.”
Mrs. Garcia beamed. “Good. Carlos needs a lot of guidance. He has … unsavory
friends.”
“Mom!” Carlos finally snapped. Everyone looked at him in surprise. “Cecil being
gay does not make him ‘unsavory,’ ok? It doesn’t mean he’s contaminating me or
making me gay. You can’t make someone gay, alright?”
“Well,” Father Jaime said before his mother could reply, “it’s time to go
inside. Ah, Carlos, if I may see you after church, please?”
Fuck, he was in trouble with the priest. Carlos lowered his head and nodded
before being pushed into the church, his mother apologizing for his behavior
the whole way. Father Jaime was formally introduced, but Father Iglesias led
the ceremony. After, Carlos was marched to Father Jaime’s new office, where his
mother waited with him for almost half an hour before the man came hurrying
down the hallway.
“Ah, my apologies. Everyone has wanted to say hello. Come in, please, Carlos.
Ah --” His mother had started to walk into the office as well, but Father Jaime
raised his hand. “I find it easier to talk with the youth alone, Mrs. Garcia.
I’m sure you understand there are things a young man can’t say in front of his
parents?” He gently ushered her out, politely ignoring her protests, and then
shut the door firmly. It had a small stained-glass window in it that was just
clear enough to see out of, and he peered through it until Carlos’ mother had
walked away, then opened it a crack. Then he turned to Carlos with a relieved
smile. “Mothers, right? Please, have a seat. Chocolate?”
“Uh, no, thank you.” Carlos sat uneasily, sure that his agitation was obvious.
“Uhm, I’m sorry about --”
“Snitches get stitches, where I’m from,” Father Jaime interrupted as he sat,
not on the other side of his desk, but in the chair next to Carlos’, scooting
it back a few feet while popping a chocolate in his mouth. Carlos blinked at
him. “Basically, I won’t tell that you were out last night if you don’t tell
that I was.” Then he grinned.
“Uhm.”
Father Jaime popped another chocolate and enjoyed it for a moment, his eyes
closed and his head tilted back, giving Carlos the opportunity to admire the
curve of his neck and the dark brown of his skin before kicking himself and
looking away. “So, have you got a girlfriend, Carlos?”
“No,” was the immediate reply, then Carlos coughed. “I mean, not really. Not
anymore. She lives in New York.”
“Not the long distance type, hmm? A boyfriend, then?” That made Carlos choke
and jump up, vigorously denying everything, and Father Jaime just calmly ate
another chocolate. “Really, please, have one. Save me from myself. Mm! So good.
I’m not, ah …” He opened his eyes and looked Carlos up and down as he shook
with the fear that Father Jaime had overheard he and Marcus and knew. “Oh, calm
down. Snitches get stitches, right? The only thing I care about, Carlos, is
that you’re safe -- whatever you do, whoever you do it with. Your parents are
very adamant that you get back on the Godly path, and I’m sure they’ve got
their reasons for thinking you’ve strayed, but faith is a tricky thing and -
- Oh, God, would you please sit down? You’re going to collapse.” He flapped his
hands at Carlos and the chair until the young man had sat down again, then
leaned forward and looking at him seriously. “I’m not here to sit in judgement
of you, Carlos. I’m not here to tell your parents anything that we discuss,
ever. I’m here because the youth of the Church need someone closer to your age,
who you can actually talk with. About anything. Sports, school, sex, drugs,
theological questions or doubts … Anything you need to talk about that you
don’t feel you can talk with your parents about. Anything at all. You’ll find
I’m a lot more lenient in my interpretations of God’s word than your parents
might hope for. I’m here for the youth, Carlos, not the adults. Even if you
already have an adult you’re comfortable confiding in - and I hope you do - I’m
available if you need another point of view. Are you involved in school
activities?”
“S, science club,” Carlos mumbled as he absently wrung his hands. His mind was
reeling and he felt like this was a trap.
“Excellent. Your parents say you’re graduating a year early.”
“Yeah. Maybe sooner, depending on how many classes I can take at the community
college this summer. Science isn’t as boring as other subjects.”
Father Jaime grinned as he nodded. “They say you’re really good at it. Any
particular field you’re interested?”
“Not really. I’m sure I’ll narrow it down, but right now, I really like
everything. Chemistry’s fun. But I also like physics. I don’t know yet.”
The priest nodded. “You have time to figure it out. Do you get along well with
the kids at church and school? Other than Paolo, I mean.”
Carlos smiled slightly as he started to relax. “Yeah, usually. I just ignore
them. Paolo, uh, said some bad things about Maria. My, uh, my girlfriend.”
He got a nod. “I suppose I should tell you that violence isn’t the answer, but
God did send down bears in Elisha’s defense, so …”
“That’s what I said,” Carlos laughed. “Father Iglesias wasn’t impressed.”
“I bet he wasn’t. Next time, remind him that our Lord Christ did flip tables
and chase people with whips at one point, so that’s also a legitimate reaction
to injustice.” That made Carlos laugh more, and they chatted for a while before
Carlos mentioned he needed to get to work. “Oh, my apologies. Your parents are
probably also waiting. Thank you for the chat, Carlos.” Father Jaime stood and
held his hand out, and Carlos took it without batting an eye. “I know it takes
time to gain a new church’s trust, but please, come to me with anything, all
right?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. Uhm … I’ll see you next week.”
His mother was still waiting for him, but Carlos refused to tell her what he
and Father Jaime had talked about. He just let her think, by his subdued
demeanor, that he’d been thoroughly chastised.
Chapter End Notes
     and carlos is like "... wat."
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Summary
     I realized I hadn't posted a new chapter in a while. Oops. Sorry.
     Have some sexy sexy sexin's, and an ultimatum.
     *** If you read this chapter prior to July 19th, please go back and
     re-read chapter 18. I made some minor yet major changes to improve
     it. Thank you!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The covers being torn off of him woke Carlos with a start. He let out a garbled
shout of protest as he fumbled for them blindly, then yelled when his hand got
bit. Anita’s giggles went up several octaves as he shoved at her and sent her
tumbling across his room. He sat up, afraid he’d hurt the little twerp, but she
just hopped up and ran at him again, so he gave her another shove and off she
tumbled.
“Stop it,” he groaned a few minutes later. She didn’t, of course. She just
shrieked with laughter and kept running at him. He tried not shoving her away,
but she’d learned to bite recently -- and hadn’t learned to do it gently.
Carlos finally got tired of fending her off and swung his legs over the edge of
his bed, grabbing her and spinning her around so he had her by the ankles as he
stood up. Anita squealed with laughter and begged him to spin her around, and
he obliged her for a little while.
“Ugh, you’re obnoxious! I should sell you to the circus.”
“Faster! Faster!”
He gave her three more good spins and then swung her up into his arms, covering
her face with kisses as she laughed and squirmed. “Oooh, my darling baby, my
precious little sister. I could eat you up!”
“No! No! Don’t eat me!”
“Too late!” He lifted her up by the armpits and gobbled at her exposed belly,
and Anita shrieked. She pointed to the window when he finally lowered her to
his hip.
“New car!”
“Did the neighbors get a new car?” Carlos took her to the window to take a
peek.
Sitting in their driveway was a silver Coupe. It looked brand-new. Carlos
admired it for a moment before frowning. Either someone was visiting at six in
the morning, or his parents had bought a new car. Which meant that their
troubles weren’t related to money.
“Huh. You’re right, Anitalitabita. Here, get down and let me get dressed.” She
giggled at her lengthened name and kissed his cheek before running out of the
room and down the hallway. Everyone was at the table when he finally got
downstairs, and he gave out kisses before sitting down. “New car, huh?” His
mother started saying grace loudly. Carlos lowered his head and closed his
eyes, and tried again halfway through the meal. “So … are you selling Dad’s
car?”
His parents ignored him and he gave up. He was French braiding Lenora’s hair,
just tying the last braid off, when his father dropped a set of car keys on the
table beside him. “Here. We’re tired of driving you everywhere.”
Carlos looked between his father and the keys to the Coupe for a few moments
before everything sank in. Then he gently let Lenora’s hair go and looked up at
his father. “You … bought me a car?”
His father nodded as excitement started cautiously making its way through his
veins. His mother was grinning at the foot of the stairs. “Merry Christmas.
Don’t drink and drive, don’t be out past midnight, and don’t let anyone else
drive it. It’s paid off, and we’re taking care of the insurance. All you need
to do is pay for gas. You’re a good boy, Carlos. Very mature and responsible,
despite your recent behavior. Don’t make us regret this.”
Carlos nodded as he stood up, then hugged his father tightly. His voice was
breathless with excitement. “Thank you. I won’t. I mean, I promise. Thank you
both so much. Mama …” He picked her up and hugged her tightly, her feet
dangling inches off the ground as she laughed and kissed his cheeks. “Thank you
so much.”
“You drive carefully. Keep your ID on you. Don’t let the police take it if you
get pulled over. Now go on, mijo, and drop Juana off at school, too. We’ll pick
her up.”
“Yeah! Come on, Carlos!” Juana was out of the kitchen and at the door with her
backpack before Carlos could even grab his. “Hurry!”
He laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked out the door.
Once they were in the car, Juana pulled one of Carlos’ old school uniform tops
out of her backpack and over her head, wiggling until she’d gotten her uniform
blouse off and her arms through his top’s armholes, all without flashing anyone
while Carlos admired the car. Then they grinned at each other.
“You look like a boy.”
She tensed and stared at him defiantly. “Good.”
“Ok. Want to stop at McDonald’s?”
Juana relaxed. “Yeah.” Then she laughed. “We’re such rebels. Look at us, not
going right to school like we’re supposed to.”
“It’s a slippery slope. Soon we’ll be turning in homework late, staying up past
ten, and watching PG-13 movies.”
“We’ll be international drug lords in three months.” Carlos laughed. “And when
Mami and Papi are interviewed after we’re killed in a brutal FBI shoot-out, all
they’ll be able to say is ‘We shouldn’t have given him the car.’”
Carlos was almost choking on his laughter. “Oh, God -- ‘We Shouldn’t Have Given
Him The Car: The True Story of Carlos and Juana Garcia -- A Lifetime
Original.’”
They spent the rest of the drive to the McDonald’s and middle school in a
detailed discussion about their future nefarious exploits and who would play
them in the movie. By the time Juana got out of the car, they were both in
tears of laughter. Carlos smiled all the way to school, pulling into a spot
just as Cecil was hopping out of his dad’s cruiser.
Carlos got out quickly and trotted over. “Cecil!”
He looked up and around, then lit up and waved when he spied Carlos. “Hey! It’s
Celia today! What’s up?”
“My parents bought me a car.” Carlos bumped shoulders with his friend.
Celia bumped him back. “Wow, congratulations!”
“Thanks. Hi, Mr. Palmer. I can take Celia home today, if you want.”
He managed to not flush or stutter. Celia immediately turned her most pleading
expression on her father. “Please, Dad? You said you’re really busy at work
this week. I’ll be good!”
Mr. Palmer gave Carlos a long, hard look. If he didn’t know exactly why Carlos
was offering to take Celia home, he at least suspected, and wasn’t happy about
it. “It’s not that far out of my way.”
“... Fine. Thank you.”
“Aaaaah, you’re the best!” Celia threw herself into the cruiser to hug and kiss
her father, then slithered back out. Her skirt caught on the seat and Carlos
was treated to a flash of Hello Kitty panties and garters before he closed his
eyes. He swallowed sharply, but managed to neither shake nor choke. “Hey, can I
drive? I’ve got my license! ‘Bye, Dad! Love you!”
“It’s not insured for other drivers. I’m sorry.” A sudden breeze made them both
shiver. Carlos took his jacket off and offered it to Celia. “Here, take this.
Why did you think a skirt was a good idea in this weather?”
She took the jacket gladly and wrapped it around herself, dwarfed by its mass,
and took a deep breath of Carlos’ scent on it as she smiled. “Because I look
damn cute in it.”
They headed inside and Carlos laughed. “Oh. Well. Yeah. You know, I thought it
would be harder to switch between calling you a boy or a girl -- you know, to
myself -- but it’s really not.”
The first bell hadn’t rung yet, so they sat in the cafeteria. Celia crossed her
ankles and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on her
pink butterfly hair clip. Carlos stopped pretending he wasn’t paying attention
to how her skirt slid up above her knees. She propped her chin in one hand and
watched him watch her, gripping her skirt even higher and opening and closing
her knees teasingly. “That’s because you’re perfect.”
Carlos sighed. “I’m really not. I wish you’d stop saying that.” She had honest-
to-God cleavage. He wondered how she’d managed it.
Celia laughed and leaned toward him, deliberately giving him a better view down
her blouse. Carlos swallowed sharply and was glad they were sitting at a table.
“Oh, sure you are.” Their shoulders touched and she sighed lightly, looking
down at the erection that was obvious through his slacks. Her breathing was as
tightly controlled as his own. “Please tell me you offered to take me home to
have completely heterosexual sex with me,” she whispered in his ear.
Her low voice tore a strangled groan from Carlos’ lips and he almost came right
there. He swallowed sharply as his gaze flitted around the cafeteria, finally
settling on Mike Sandero, who was glowering at them. “If you --” He coughed,
swallowing the butterflies in his stomach. “If you can make it ‘til then,
yeah.”
They both bit their lips at his admission, then Celia laughed breathlessly as
the first bell rang. “... Yeah. I can wait. For you, I can wait.”
Her breath was hot in his ear, then on his cheek as he turned his head
slightly. “We need to get to class,” he whispered.
“Not with that boner. God, I want you so bad …”
“That’s not helping,” he growled.
She laughed again as she stood up. “Well. See you in chemistry.”
~~~~~
The soft music Celia had put on did nothing to drown out her moans and pleas as
she clutched at Carlos’ back and waist, one leg pushed up and over his
shoulder. He could feel the welts and scratches she was leaving, but each
sliver of pain, each sting from the sweat on his back, only made him shudder
with pleasure. She’d kept her bra, garter, and stockings on -- the cleavage was
a genius_trick of a regular bra over four or five strapless silicone ones. He
could see why she hadn’t wanted to take the get-up off -- that and she knew
full well that one of the quickest ways to turn him on was to wear stockings
and garters.
“Oh, God, please, harder,” she begged.
Carlos shifted, pulling her other leg over his shoulder. The movement made them
both groan as he raised himself up and watched Celia’s fluttering eyelids and
slack jaw as he pushed into her harder. Her cries jumped in pitch and intensity
the more forceful his thrusts were, and Carlos liked it when that happened, and
Celia knew it, so she did it on purpose, until she was almost screaming as
Carlos propped himself up for better leverage and grunted each time he slammed
into her, her nails leaving long scrapes on his arms, shoulders, and chest. Her
abandon was intoxicating, and Carlos loved to watch it.
He pushed himself up so he was kneeling, pulling Celia’s hips closer and
holding her thighs apart as he watched their bodies move together, sweat
dripping from his face and hair as he panted. Celia responded by raising her
heels over her head and holding her legs there, giving Carlos a clear view of
her body and where he entered it. It was getting easier and easier for him to
look. Then she let her legs go and grabbed at his forearms as she came, drawing
blood. Carlos gasped and collapsed on top of her, his face in her neck, his
arms and shoulders keeping her legs above her head. She grunted a little with
discomfort, but didn’t let him move until he, too, came, panting and groaning.
She held him until he caught his breath and rolled off of her, then immediately
curled up against him with her head on his shoulder and one hand splayed across
his chest. Carlos pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her cheek and
shoulder before staring up at the ceiling. He shivered a little when her nails
scraped gently across his nipple, but between Celia’s warmth next to him and
the space heater on the floor, he was actually quite warm, even without a
blanket.
“I should go,” he murmured some time later. “Your dad’ll be home soon.”
“Not until sundown,” she whispered. Her hand on his chest clenched and she
squeezed him tighter as she nuzzled his neck, but then she pushed herself up on
one arm and smiled down at him wistfully. “Do you need a shower?” she asked as
she toyed with a bit of his hair. Carlos nodded. “Do you need … help … with
that?” She asked it shyly and he sighed as he shook his head. “... oh.”
It was soft, sad. Carlos got up and showered, leaving Celia in her bed. She
pulled the covers up to her chest as she watched him get dressed after he was
clean, then pulled her fluffy bathrobe on and followed him to the front door.
Carlos looked down at her as she looked up at him. Her carefully-applied makeup
was smeared and her hair was a complete mess, and she was biting her lower lip
nervously, like she wanted to say something but was holding back. He opened his
mouth and her eyes widened hopefully, but then he closed it wordlessly and
stroked his thumb over her lower lip and goatee before kissing her gently. She
leaned in the doorway and smiled as she watched him leave.
~~~~~
The next day, their latest chemistry test slid over his English notes, and
Carlos stared at the sparkly purple ink -- and large red F -- with a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Cecil mumbled. “I swear, I studied. I really did. Dad helped. I
know the answers. I just …”
Carlos nodded and patted the seat next to him. Cecil flopped down dejectedly.
“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you home and we’ll go over the test.
Ms. Rigadeau might let you retake it.”
“Yeah, but, you did so good tutoring me. I was paying attention, I really was.
And … and Dad can’t … I mean, money’s tight right now, so --”
Carlos finally looked up. “Cecil. It’s o. kay. We’re friends. You don’t need to
pay me.”
“But you’ve got so much going on. Your job, your family, the science club … I
don’t want to use you.”
The reply that he could be repaid in sexual favors almost crossed his lips, but
Carlos bit down on it and shook his head. “You’re not. You don’t work tonight,
do you?”
Cecil shook his own head. “Nah. I work Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and weekends.” He
pulled two lollipops out of one of his cargo pants’ pockets and offered one to
Carlos, who took it. “I’ll make dinner for us, if you want. Dad got me a cute
apron and it came with a free cookbook.”
Carlos smiled to himself. He was pretty sure that the free apron had come with
the cookbook, but Cecil’s simple mixups were endearing. They sat quietly while
Carlos went over his notes and Cecil took out a drawing pad and colored
pencils. Carlos stole glances at him, watching the look of concentration on his
face, the line of his jaw, the gauges and piercings in his ears. His hair was
curled and in pigtails, and he was wearing a horrifically ugly sweater in
clashing colors that matched his makeup.
Then a thought occurred to him. “Hey … why’s your bathroom mirror always
covered?”
Cecil’s hand froze and he was still for a moment. Then, “... It’s just a
thing.”
“Do you ever uncover it?”
“... No. Dad and I don’t do mirrors.”
Carlos frowned. “Why not? How do you do your hair and makeup?”
“We just don’t, and Dad does them for me. I don’t want to talk about mirrors.”
He was serious -- almost testy -- about it as he scowled at his picture, so
Carlos reached out and tugged on one of his pigtails. Cecil jerked away with a
growl. “Ok. I’m sorry. Your hair looks cute.”
That made him flush and smile despite his best efforts, and he looked up at
Carlos through his long lashes. “R, really?”
Carlos was always irrationally pleased with his ability to turn Cecil into a
stammering, nervous schoolgirl with just one compliment. “Yeah. Real cute.”
Cecil ducked his head and giggled as he toyed with the pigtail Carlos didn’t
have a hold of. Carlos watched him with a smile before he remembered that they
weren’t the only ones in the library and looked away, really looking at his
friend’s picture. “Hey, those are the chemical compounds the test was on.” And
it was all correct. Cecil was in the middle of doodling -- doodling -- a visual
version of their test.
He blinked as Carlos took the drawing and stood up. “Uhm … yeah?”
“You just randomly drew the test.”
“Well, it was on my mind. So?”
Carlos pulled him out of the library and toward the staff lounge as he waved
the picture in Cecil’s face. “And it’s all correct!”
Cecil took the picture and looked at it curiously. “I said I knew the answers.”
Carlos laughed as he pushed the staff lounge door open. Several teachers,
including Ms. Rigadeau, looked up as he pulled Cecil over and handed her the
picture. “Cecil just drew this in the library, Ms. Rigadeau. He knows the
material. He’s just not good at taking tests.”
She frowned as she took the half-finished drawing and looked it over. Then her
eyebrows raised. She looked up at the two boys in front of her. “You didn’t
help him?”
“No, ma’am,” Carlos swore. “He showed me his test and we were talking about me
tutoring him, and he just … drew it. He wasn’t looking at the test or anything.
He wasn’t trying to draw it. I know it’s unorthodox, but is there a way that
this can count? He knows the material.”
Ms. Rigadeau took a deep breath as she looked between the drawing and Cecil.
“Let me think about it,” she finally told them. She handed the drawing back.
“Have this finished and on my desk by the end of the day, Mr. Palmer.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.”
“Now go away.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” They hurried out and Cecil bumped into Carlos. “How am I
supposed to finish this by the end of the day?” They stopped at Cecil’s locker.
“I don’t know, maybe at lunch?”
Cecil paused, then slowly pulled out his English book. “I, uhm … had plans … at
lunch.”
That got him a shrug. “Well, it’s either your test or your … plans.”
Cecil stared into his locker. “You don’t like that I fuck other guys.”
“I don’t like that you do it at school.”
“You’d prefer that I went to their homes, where their parents might catch us?
That they came to mine?”
“I don’t … It’s none of my business.” Carlos leaned back against the lockers
and crossed his arms over his chest with a scowl.
“But you don’t want me fucking other guys, do you? At school or not.” Carlos
was silent as his scowl deepened. “Well, there’s one way to stop me.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Date me.” Carlos looked at him in surprise as Cecil closed his locker.
“It doesn’t have to be publicly. You don’t have to tell anyone -- and you know
I won’t. But if you want me all to yourself, which is how you’ve been acting
from the start, then I’m going to need a committed relationship out of the
deal. I’m totally willing to stop sleeping around if you want to be exclusive.
Totally. I’d love that. But not if you’re still going to pretend, even between
the two of us, that you’re straight and us fucking doesn’t mean anything. So
you just think about that, and let me know what you decide. Ok?” He raised his
eyebrows briefly before walking off. He ignored Carlos for the rest of the day,
and went home with his dad after school.
Chapter End Notes
     I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, LarissaFaeFics.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Summary
     The drive-in is amazing, and so is Father Jaime.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“I’m going to Marcus’! Be back tomorrow! Love you!”
There was an answering shout from the laundry room that Carlos took as
permission as he sailed out the door and another shout as Juana protested being
left behind, and then the front door was closed and he was bounding to his car.
Marcus was waiting for him in his father’s hatchback when he got to his
friend’s house, and as they pulled out of the driveway, Marcus glanced over at
him.
“Ok. What’s wrong?”
“Hm?” He stared out the window, Cecil’s ultimatum still running through his
head. He was also, if he was honest, irritated because he’d been anticipating
taking Cecil home, and the hoped-for sex had never happened because Cecil had
decided to push him.
“What’s wrong?” Marcus repeated. “Something’s wrong.”
“Oh. Nothing.” Marcus punched his arm and Carlos didn’t even twitch. He just
took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he spoke. “... Cecil said he’d stop
sleeping around if we started dating.”
The car swerved sharply as Marcus’ head jerked around in shock and they both
swore. Once they were under control again, he kept darting wide-eyed glances at
Carlos. “Shit, dude, seriously? Are you gonna do it?”
Carlos gave him a dirty look. “No. I can’t. My parents would kill me if they
found out.” He turned away again. “And I’m not into guys.”
Marcus started laughing hard enough he had to pull over. He was gripping the
steering wheel so tightly his dark brown knuckles were turning white, banging
his head lightly between his hands as he shrieked with laughter. No amount of
disgusted sighing or demands that he stop did anything, and each time he
started to calm down, he’d look at Carlos and start howling again. It was a
good five minutes before he could speak again, tears falling down his cheeks.
“Ok,” he gasped, “ok. I’m not sure which is funnier -- the fact that you’re
only concerned about your parents finding out, or the fact that ‘you’re not
into guys’ was clearly an afterthought.” He leaned his forehead against the
steering wheel and wheezed with mirth some more, then started the car again.
“Oh man. You should do comedy.”
“You’re an asshole,” Carlos muttered. It was a few minutes before he recognized
the road they were on and straightened. “Where are we going?”
“To see your boyfriend. Maybe he wants to go to the drive-in with us.”
“Oh, come on.” Panic was entering Carlos’ voice. “Please, no.” Marcus ignored
him. “We don’t have to invite Cecil. He can’t be out after dark.”
“So, he can stay over, too.” Marcus grinned at him. “Man, you’ve got it bad for
him, Carlos. Look at that adorable blush. You’re in loooooove.”
“I am not,” Carlos grumbled. “Where would he sleep, even?”
“I’ve got more rooms than I know what to do with. You two can take one, if you
want. Dad and that bitch won’t even know you used it. I’ve got condoms, too, if
you need them.”
“I’m not having sex with Cecil in your house!” Carlos nearly shrieked as his
heart skipped enough beats to make him gasp. “I’m not having sex with Cecil
ever!”
“Yeah,” Marcus snorted, “that’s a fucking lie. How do we get to his place?”
“I’m not telling you that!”
“Yeah, well, you tell me or I’m stopping in town and asking where Carlos’
boyfriend lives. I bet they’d all know who I was talking about.”
“Fine! Turn here!” Carlos slammed his fist against the dashboard as he shook
with anger and Marcus turned down the dirt road that led to the two or three
acres of flat, empty land that Cecil lived on. “Look, don’t tell Cecil that I
told you about --”
“Wow, what a dump,” Marcus breathed as they drove up. He started as the dog
pack came tearing around the side of the house, howling and circling the car,
rearing up on their hind legs to paw at the windows as their tails wagged.
“Jesus fucking Christ, he has wolves!”
Carlos finally laughed and pushed his door open. He got a lapful of exuberant
wolf-dog and shoved it away as it licked at his face and yapped in excitement.
“Puppies, Marcus. They’re his puppies. Oi! Get down!” He was ignored as he
stood up, and the wolf-beast that had licked him was shoved out of the way as
another one reared up and easily rested its paws on his shoulders, pushing him
against the car. Marcus might have shrieked a little as one of the smaller ones
wriggled past Carlos and into the passenger seat. Carlos laughed and shoved his
way through the pack as Marcus yelled for help. The trailer door opened and
Cecil pressed his nose to the screen door.
“Oh! Carlos!” He sounded delighted and pushed the screen door open. “That’s not
your car! Hey! Get down!” The dogs immediately backed away, then ran after the
toy that Cecil threw. He turned back to Carlos with an adoring smile. “You came
to see me?”
Carlos laughed and shrugged as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked
down, kicking at the ground. Marcus was still in the car, covered in a puppy or
three. “Uh, yeah, kinda … We’re going to the drive-in. Marcus wanted to invite
you. You don’t have to come.”
Cecil was rubbing his bare arms in the chill late-afternoon air. “Well, I have
to ask Dad. Come on in.” He was wearing a muscle shirt and fuzzy pants, and as
Marcus finally escaped the car and followed them, the puppies following him up
to the door and whining when they were left outside, Carlos let one of his
hands drop and brush against them. Cecil glanced at him out of the corner of
his eye and smiled. “Sorry it’s messy. Have a seat. Dad’s in the shower.” He
turned the music that was playing down a bit and then at looked Marcus and
brushed his hair back as Marcus looked him up and down appraisingly. “We’ve
never met. I’m Cecil.”
Marcus took the hand he offered and shook it. Carlos and Cecil both narrowed
their eyes when he rubbed his thumb gently across the back of Cecil’s hand.
“Marcus Vansten. Way richer than you.”
Carlos hit him as Cecil jerked his hand back and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, most
people are. So … the drive-in?” He knelt and started cleaning up the art
supplies strewn across the living room. He was more subdued than usual, which
made Carlos frown with concern as he knelt to help and Marcus flopped onto the
couch.
“Yeah. Carlos said the bogeyman will eat you if you’re out past dark, so you
can stay at my place. Caaaaarlooooos is staying over, too.”
“Wendigo,” Cecil corrected him absently. “Do you want me to tag along?”
He asked it softly, to Carlos and Carlos alone, looking up at him hesitantly
through his long lashes. Carlos didn’t look directly at him as he nodded.
“Yeah. I like hanging out with my friends.” It was distinctly not an answer to
their last conversation. Cecil nodded, then looked up when the bathroom door
opened and Carlos sat next to Marcus.
“Boy, are you still messing around?”
Mr. Palmer walked into the living room, still dripping wet, a very short towel
clasped loosely -- so very, very loosely -- around his hips. His face was more
relaxed than Carlos would have ever seen it, if Carlos had been paying
attention to his face. As it was, his broad and muscular chest and shoulders,
covered in intricate tribal tattoos from his neckline to the top quarters of
his biceps and down his flat stomach, as well as his narrow hips, and the one
muscular thigh that peeked out from the towel’s gap, had Carlos and Marcus both
suddenly crossing their legs and shifting so their laps weren’t visible as they
both stared. A thousand images flew through Carlos’ mind, not a single one of
them appropriate in the slightest. He felt faint. He hadn’t expected Mr. Palmer
to be all muscle, not at his age, though Carlos didn’t really know how old he
was anyway, and he really wanted to go over and hit his knees and --
“Tch, no,” Cecil half-lied. “I just cleaned up. Carlos and Marcus --” He looked
over his shoulder as he spoke, then wailed in frustration as Mr. Palmer finally
noticed the dumb-struck and obviously aroused young men on the couch and
immediately shut down, his face twisting into his usual foreboding scowl as he
shifted and hitched his towel higher on his waist. “Oh, come ooooon! Really?!
Good God, you two, have some class! That’s my daaaaad!” He leapt up and pushed
at his father, who didn’t even pretend to be affected. “Uuuuugh! Go put some
clothes on, you shameless hussy! I have to clean up their drool! Daaaaad!
Gooooo!” He was scowling, turning his shoulder into his father’s chest and
pushing with all his might. “Daaaaad!”
Mr. Palmer had stopped glaring at Carlos and Marcus when it became obvious it
wasn’t having the desired effect, and in fact was having the opposite of the
desired effect, and had been surveying the room. He finally gave a short sigh
and looked down at Cecil as if just noticing him. Cecil was on the verge of
tears. “Will you be gone overnight?”
“Yes! Ugh! Just go, already!”
The man turned, the dampness of his back making it glisten, and Carlos almost
came at the sight of the muscles moving beneath the skin and tattoos. He
finally tore his gaze away and buried his face in a pillow as Mr. Palmer
started off down the hall. “Feed that dog infestation before you go.”
Then he was gone and Marcus tipped forward until he fell to the floor, curling
into a ball and groaning. “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous. Oh my God.”
“And you two!” Cecil wailed as he whirled on them. “You horny, perverted,
pathetic losers! Have some fucking self-control, would you?! That is my father,
who is old enough to be your father, which makes you gross!” He stomped over
and stood in front of Carlos, glaring down at him with tears in his eyes and
his fists on his hips. “And you! Don’t you get enough --” He cut himself off
and huffed, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously.
“Can’t think,” was the garbled reply from Marcus as Carlos didn’t meet Cecil’s
eyes. “Boner too powerful.”
“I hate you both,” Cecil bit out as Carlos sat up. He really was about to cry,
his face twisted with anger, but before Carlos could speak the other boy threw
himself into his lap, straddling his hips and wriggling against him, angry
brown eyes inches from Carlos’ own.
“Aaaaagh!” Carlos jumped like he’d been scalded, put his hands on Cecil’s chest
to push him off before realizing he’d hit the coffee table and get hurt, then
jerked his hands back and held them at shoulder-level. “Stop it! Get off!”
Cecil was grinding against him to the rhythm of the still-playing music,
glaring at Carlos as he rested his wrists on Carlos’ shoulders, his fingers
digging into his hair. “Why? You like it. Might as well get you off before we
go, so you won’t be pissy all night.”
He was having a hard time speaking calmly and Carlos was having a hard time
keeping his hands off of him. He covered Cecil’s hands with his own, intending
to pull them off of his shoulders, but ended up gripping them tightly as his
head fell back and he panted. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was so close, and
Cecil knew just how to move, it wasn’t the first time he’d given Carlos a lap-
dance, he was so very close, he didn’t even care if Marcus saw them or watched
--
“Oh, God ...”
Carlos wasn’t sure who of the three of them had groaned, but just as he was
about to come, Cecil stood up and twirled shakily away. “Well, gotta change if
we’re going out!”
Carlos grabbed blindly for him and whimpered. His trembling fingers barely
brushed Cecil’s fuzzy pants as the boy fled to his room. He curled on his side,
eyes still squeezed shut as he panted and groaned. “I hate him, I hate him, I
hate him,” he whispered.
“Pretty sure you the-exact-opposite-of-hate him, but damn, he’s a cocktease.”
Marcus sat up, having regained control of his body. Carlos wasn’t so fortunate,
and stayed curled up. After a while, his friend cleared his throat. “I bet he’s
hoping you’ll go in and fuck him.”
“Well, he’s in for a surprise if he is,” Carlos snapped.
“Can I?”
“No!”
“Can we talk about how gorgeous his dad is, then? Because --”
“No!”
“-- damn, he’s hot. Your dad’s hot, Cecil. Want a stepdad?”
“Shut up,” was the huffy reply. When Carlos opened his eyes, Cecil was in his
cargo pants and an oversized, ugly holiday sweater. He wasn’t wearing any
makeup or jewellry, and with his hair down he looked about twelve, if one
ignored his goatee. “Let’s stop by the store for snacks. You can pay, rich
guy.”
His exceptionally youthful appearance helped quell the rest of Carlos’ desire
enough for him to sit up, then stand as Cecil dug in his father’s uniform
jacket’s pocket. “I’ll get your ticket, Cecil.”
Cecil paused, his father’s wallet in one hand. “I don’t want to be a burden. I
mean, we can afford it this once.”
Carlos walked over and hugged him as Cecil stood there, his shoulders hunched
and his body tense. For all of his fierce pride in being poor -- something
Carlos really meant to ask about some other time -- he hated having to rely on
others for anything. “It’s ok. I want to. It’s my treat.”
“You make it sound like a date.”
“It’s my treat,” Carlos repeated.
Sighing, Cecil put the wallet back and sat to pull on his combat boots. “...
Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on,” Marcus demanded. He shooed them to the car and
grumbled about the dogs as Cecil stopped to feed them. “What do you losers
want?” he asked as they walked into the small town’s small convenience store.
Elder Josie was sitting in a rocking chair out front, polishing an antique
rifle and nodding when Cecil greeted her. “Don’t break my wallet.”
“Oh, please, we couldn’t if we tried,” Carlos laughed. He looked around, then
frowned. “Uhm, Cecil?”
“Hmm?” He was picking out some red vines.
“What’s Steve doing here?”
Cecil’s head snapped up and his upper lip curled in disgust at the sight of
Steve walking toward them, next to a woman who had to have been his mother.
“Ugh. He lives here.”
“Ugh to you, too,” Steve grumbled. “What are you doing in town?”
“Hanging out with friends.”
“Oh, you have those?”
“I have more than you do.”
“Boys,” the woman cut in, resting one hand on Steve’s shoulder firmly, “be
nice. How are you, Cecil?”
Cecil turned away with a shrug. “Fine, I guess.”
“And how’s your father?”
“Fine.”
Mrs. Carlsberg smiled. “Well, you tell him I said hello, and thank him for
helping me with my garden.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cecil glared at Steve again before scurrying off, and Steve’s mother pushed her
son toward the door. Marcus had wandered off after Cecil. Carlos made to
follow, but Mrs. Carlsberg’s hand on his elbow stopped him. “You’re Carlos,
right?”
He turned and nodded, swallowing nervously. He wasn’t going to assume that she
and Cecil’s father were sleeping together. He and Cecil shared a bed all the
time, and that didn’t mean … well, no, that was a bad example, but --
“Thank you for not mentioning anything to Cecil,” she said quietly. She was
stocky and beautiful. Carlos was certain she was biracial. Her hair wasn’t as
kinky-curly as his was, but wasn’t as slickly smooth as Cecil’s. Her cheekbones
were stunning, and his mother would have killed for them. “He’s a good boy, but
he’s … he has some abandonment issues.”
“I know,” Carlos said when it seemed like she was waiting for a reply.
She smiled a bit sadly. “It’s … hard. We appreciate you not saying anything.
You’re all out for the night?” It was said casually, but the look on her face
said everything. Carlos swallowed sharply and nodded. Her smile broadened. “All
right. You boys have fun. Steve!”
“Yeah, Ma?”
He ambled up with a popsicle hanging out of his mouth and she rolled her eyes
at him. “I’ll be out tonight. I don’t want you inviting anyone over, ok?”
He shrugged and glanced at Carlos out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, Ma.
Sure. Have fun. Don’t get knocked up.”
He got his cheek pinched and jerked back. “Don’t sass me, boy. I love you.”
Steve kissed her cheek after she kissed his forehead. “Love you, too, Ma.” Then
she was gone and he took the popsicle out of his mouth and leaned back against
the counter. “I’m not the only one who knows they’re banging, right?”
Carlos looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ma and Chief Palmer. They’re fucking. Cecil doesn’t know, but it’s obvious to
you, right? Besides, sometimes he comes over on his lunch break and if it’s the
weekend, well … the walls are really thin.”
“I don’t know,” Carlos snapped as his cheeks burned.
Steve just rolled his eyes as Marcus and Cecil, followed closely by Earl,
walked up. Marcus leaned against the counter. “Hey, Steve. How come you live on
the reservation? I thought only Native Americans could live here. You’re a
little, uh … African.”
Steve rolled his eyes again. “I am too Native. Mom’s half and I’m a quarter.
Earl’s Native, too, before you ask.”
“I’m half.” Earl grinned at Marcus and Carlos’ blank looks. “Mom and Dad are
both half Irish or some other European mix. I just got all the white genes.”
“And I’m full,” Cecil interrupted. Earl smiled at him and blushed lightly
across the bridge of his nose. “Which makes me better than all of you. Can we
go, now?”
“Where are you guys going?”
“The drive-in. Just us three,” he added before Earl could ask to tag along.
“Genetics are weird.” Marcus was still suspicious of Earl and Steve’s claims to
Nativeness as he looked between them and Cecil.
“My siblings all look more Native,” Earl sighed. “Everyone thinks I’m adopted.
So, Cecil …”
“No,” he said, firmly but not harshly. “Just stop, Earl. Please.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as Earl looked at his feet and Cecil
edged closer to Carlos, then Steve let out a disgusted sigh and pushed through
the group, grabbing Earl’s sleeve and dragging him along. Earl followed without
protest, glancing back at Cecil before Steve pushed the door open.
“What did I tell you about wearing that shirt, King?” Elder Josie could be
heard snapping.
“It’s Earl, Elder Josie.”
“That’s what I said! That’s a ridiculous shirt, Count.”
“It’s Earl, Elder Josie …”
Then the door shut and Marcus turned to Cecil. “So what’s up with you and
McWhitey?”
“Oh, God, learn some tact,” Carlos groaned as he shoved Marcus.
“What? I’m just curious!”
“It’s none of your business!” The three of them moved toward the register as
Carlos and Marcus argued, then back to the car, where Carlos and Cecil both
climbed in the back seat. They were halfway to the drive-in when Cecil broke
in.
“Look, we dated for a bit, ok? Earl’s my best friend -- well, he was, when we
were kids. We were in Boy Scouts together.”
“Why aren’t you still friends?” Carlos glared at Marcus and kicked the back of
his seat as Cecil shrugged.
“Mom died. After that … Well, nobody wanted their kids hanging around us.”
Marcus looked at them in the rearview mirror and, wisely, dropped the subject.
Cecil leaned a little toward Carlos and sighed, brow furrowed and lips pursed.
Carlos put his arm around him and hugged him. It made Cecil take a shaky breath
as he hid his face in Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos stroked his long black hair and
kissed his forehead before taking his hand and squeezing it. Cecil sniffed and
returned the pressure.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” Carlos whispered back. “It’s Marcus’ fault.”
“No, I mean --” He cleared his throat. “I mean, for at the house. What I did. I
just got so frustrated, I just -- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
Carlos’ only regret was that they hadn’t been alone and Cecil hadn’t been in
only lingerie. All he did was shrug, though. “Eh, don’t worry. Marcus and I
were being rude. I’m not upset.”
“Well, Dad is pretty hot, I guess. I mean, he’s got all the single women
between here and Window Rock after him. A lot of the not-single ones, too. They
all think he’s so brave, raising a kid all alone. It’s so tragic, you know, so
romantic. The handsome widower, the single father. I mean, we rarely have to
buy food because Dad gets given so much, so many meals we just have to heat up.
Funny, none of the single moms I know get that sort of treatment. Steve and his
mom don’t.” Then he shook himself and sat up, leaning forward to talk to
Marcus. “What are we seeing?”
Marcus was just getting their tickets. “Some kids’ movie, first, then we’re
going to make fun of stupid white people getting eaten by monsters.”
Cecil pulled back as his eyes widened. He looked at Carlos for confirmation
before biting his lower lip. “Oh. Uhm. Well. This is awkward. Do we … have to
watch the second one? I mean, can we switch movies?”
“You can, but they’ll kick you out if they catch you. Don’t tell me you’re
afraid of scary movies.”
Marcus laughed as Cecil didn’t. He looked down and plucked at the hem of his
oversized sweater nervously. “... yeah …” he admitted in a tiny voice.
“No way.” Marcus parked the car and turned to stare at him. “You? Mister
‘Ooooh, I live with cannibal monsters’? Mister ‘Let’s talk about blood and gore
over the school announcements’? Really?”
“Yes,” Cecil groaned. He scowled. “Yes, I’m afraid of scary movies. Living
around wendigo doesn’t stop it, it just makes it worse, ok? I can handle
regular movies where the killer is human, but I don’t like monster movies. Are
you going to stop teasing me, or am I going to find a ride home?”
He had one hand on the door handle and was unbuckling. Carlos took his arm as
he, too, glared at Marcus. “Come on, Cecil, don’t go. Marcus, stop being an
ass.” Marcus rolled his eyes, popping the hatch so they could all sit in the
back. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to watch the movie. We don’t
really watch them, either. We just make fun of them. Will that make it better?”
Cecil shrugged and settled back next to Carlos. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t
mean to ruin your movie night.”
Carlos laughed and took Cecil’s hand again, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb
across Cecil’s knuckles. “You didn’t,” he murmured, smiling at his friend.
Cecil squeezed back and his trembling look slowly turned into a smile.
“Are you two going to stare at each other all night, or are you coming back
here?” Marcus asked as he shoved his face right between theirs and rested his
arms across the back of the seats.
“Carlos is straight,” was Cecil’s automatic reply as he jerked back, then
scrambled over the seat and into the back.
Marcus laughed as Carlos followed, rolling his eyes. “No one believes that,
Cecil. Carlos doesn’t believe that. We all just pretend he’s straight so he
feels better about fucking guys and can pretend it’s a phase. Let’s not kid
ourselves.”
Cecil gave Carlos a slow, measured look as Carlos pulled the blankets over them
and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. He was clearly suspecting that Marcus knew
they’d had sex. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Yeah, righ--”
“Shut up,” Carlos finally snapped. He should have known better than to expect
Marcus to keep his mouth shut. Even if he didn’t say anything outright, he’d
just hint and hint and hint until he’d gotten his point across.
Marcus shrugged and dug out the portable radio he kept in the back of the car.
It was all part of their drive-in routine; the back floor of the hatchback was
covered in a specially-cut foam pad and there was a mass of blankets for
warmth, along with the battery-powered radio with attached speakers for
surround-sound, and spare batteries. Carlos sat between his two friends with
Cecil on his left side, Marcus’ huge comforter pulled up to his chin. He looked
so young as he stared out at the darkening sky, and Carlos wondered how often
he got to see an actual sunset. He seemed apprehensive, though not as afraid as
he did when at home.
“Are you ok being outside after dark?”
There was silence for a moment, then, “The wendigo don’t leave the reservation.
I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Marcus whispered.
“And who called me in tears because he thought his house had a jinn?” Carlos
asked pointedly.
“Hey! You said you wouldn’t tell!”
“Jinn are real, too,” Cecil said with complete seriousness.
Marcus slapped Carlos’ shoulder. “See?!”
“So wendigo are weird, but jinn aren’t? You’re both ridiculously
superstitious.” Still, Carlos fumbled under the blanket until he found Cecil’s
hand and squeezed it. Cecil smiled and squeezed back before laying his head on
Carlos’ shoulder as Marcus huffed. “Can we at least get through the previews
without you two snipping at each other?”
“We’re not five,” Marcus replied testily.
“Then don’t act like it.” Cecil was unusually quiet and Carlos looked down at
him, but he was watching the screen, his cheek on Carlos’ shoulder, his hand
warm in Carlos’ own. Carlos’ heart might have started beating a little faster
as he studied Cecil’s angular features. Or maybe it was the way Cecil’s thumb
stroked over his knuckles. Cecil finally glanced up at him and he blinked
quickly. “Your roots are showing,” he murmured.
Cecil rolled his eyes up as if he could see the roots of his bangs. “Yeah. I’m
going to re-dye them soon.”
Carlos nodded and looked back at the screen. “I bet I can guess all the
previews.”
“White guys doing shit?”
Marcus and Carlos both laughed. “Ok, he can stay,” Marcus decided. “What do you
do if you hear noises in your attic or basement?”
“Well, seeing as I have neither, I’d probably hide in Dad’s room. But if I did
have an attic or a basement, I’d get the hell out of the house.”
Marcus nodded approvingly as Carlos squeezed Cecil’s hand again with a smile.
“Good. You’d survive a horror movie. What would you do if there was a zombie
attack and one of your group got bitten? Carlos and I don’t agree on the best
way to deal with that.”
“Strap bombs to them, put them in an enclosed area with only one or two ways
out, let them attract as many zombies as possible, then set the bombs off.” It
was said promptly and matter-of-factly. Carlos and Marcus just stared at Cecil,
and he blinked at them. “What?”
“That’s cold, man.”
“You’d seriously make someone a human bomb?”
“Well, yeah.” Pushing himself up straighter, Cecil nonetheless managed to slide
a leg over and between Carlos’. “They’re already infected, right? No hope of a
cure? And we’re on the run from zombies, or specifically on a mission to hunt
them down? Someone who’s infected will slow the group down at the very least,
and put everyone in danger no matter what. But if you put them in an area
that’s mostly closed off, or, I don’t know, like a swimming pool? You just
attract zombies there, or push them in if it’s a pool or a ditch or something,
and set the bombs off. That would attract more zombies, and you’d pretty much
be able to pick them off until you ran out of ammo. Or you just run the other
way while they’re distracted.”
“He’s put a lot more thought into this than we have,” Marcus told Carlos.
Carlos nodded. “Yeah. That’s … That’s brutal, Cecil.”
The boy shrugged. “Yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’d
expect you guys to do the same, if I got bit. None of this ‘leave them with a
gun and a clip of ammo’ shit. The surviving group members need all the weapons
and ammo they can get. Now, if enough time has passed that maybe they’ve found
a cure? Sure, try to get them to the hospital. But if it’s a survival
situation, then they’ve got to go, and in the most useful way possible. I’d
probably lose sleep over it, but the safety of the group is more important. Oh,
a bunny!”
He turned back to the screen as Carlos smiled. Marcus caught his attention and
made a circle with one hand, bobbing his head over it and sticking his tongue
in the side of his cheek as he did so. Then he gestured to Cecil, waggled his
eyebrows, and repeated the gesture. It took Carlos a moment to realize what he
was encouraging Carlos to do, and when understanding finally dawned he gave his
friend a dirty look and shook his head sharply. Marcus just held his hands up
and shrugged.
“I can see what you’re doing,” Cecil commented.
“In that case, Carlos, you should totally give Cecil a blowjob. That would be
awesome.”
“Please ignore him,” Carlos murmured in Cecil’s ear.
“You know you want him to blow you.”
“I’d rather have a million dollars. Or even a thousand dollars.”
Marcus snorted. “Something to fix up that dump you live in. Why are you so damn
poor, anyway? Your dad’s the Chief of Police. He can’t be making that low of a
salary.”
Cecil shrugged. “I don’t know. We just have money issues. I know he pays a lot
for me to go to school -- I mean, he doesn’t pay full price, but still, it’s
not free like public school is. Mom’s funeral was expensive, he’s paying for
all of our food and clothes and stuff, lawyer stuff …” He trailed off and then
hunched down, clearly having not intended to say the last part. “We’re just
poor. I don’t ask about money.”
“Marcus has the bad habit of doing just that,” Carlos said over Marcus’ next
words. He elbowed Marcus and slid his arm around Cecil’s waist, pulling him
closer. ‘Closer’ turned out to be between his legs with Cecil’s back against
his chest, but Carlos only took a shaky breath in as Cecil looked up at him
with raised eyebrows. “Come on, Marcus. I know you have manners.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Marcus nudged Carlos. “If you two are going to cuddle, move
over and give me some more room.” Carlos and Cecil shifted over, and Marcus
stretched out more as he looked at them and kept opening and closing his mouth.
He was making an effort to not talk about subjects Carlos didn’t want to talk
about, at least. Carlos was sure he was going to get an earful when they were
alone, but at the moment, Cecil was laughing at the movie and relaxed and
having fun, and Carlos was content to wrap his arms around the young man’s
waist and rest their cheeks together with a smile.
An hour and a half later, Cecil was still giggling about the movie while the
three of them waited in line to get more snacks and drinks. He’d started
pitching his voice higher, like he did when he was Celia, and was swinging he
and Carlos’ clasped hands as he held his other hand up to his mouth, gripping
the sleeve of his sweater in it. It hid his goatee, and as he’d put his hair in
pigtails in the car, he was effectively passing for a girl. Carlos liked that.
He twirled Cecil around and hugged him from behind. No one knew Cecil was a
boy. If word got back to his family, his parents wouldn’t freak out. Cecil
crossed his arms over Carlos’ and rocked side to side, leaving Carlos with the
urge to kiss his neck.
He didn’t. Cecil would turn for more kisses, and someone would see his facial
hair. Carlos just closed his eyes as Marcus paid, then they all sat at one of
the tables outside by the playground to eat before the next movie started. Then
Cecil wanted to be pushed on the swings, and it was clear that he was just
stalling for time.
Carlos finally pulled him out of the swing. “Come on, Cee. I want to watch the
movie.”
His friend giggled and grabbed Carlos’ collar, pressing their bodies together.
Carlos started walking backwards toward the car and Cecil followed. “I don’t,”
he whispered. “I want to find somewhere nice and dark. Just you and me.” He
rubbed the tips of their noses together and his eyes widened when Carlos gave
him a quick peck on the lips.
“No, let’s go watch the movie. Come on, I’ll be right there with you.”
“But I don’t want to …” They’d gotten far enough from the snack bar for no one
to be paying attention to them. Carlos’ heart was pounding and he squeezed
Cecil’s waist. Then he dipped his head and kissed his friend. Cecil let out a
small, short squeak before kissing him back. His arms slid around Carlos’ neck
and Carlos lifted him just a little, which made Cecil let out a muffled laugh.
“Carlos?”
Father Jaime’s voice in the darkness made Carlos’ heart nearly stop and he
dropped Cecil, who stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. Carlos whirled
to face the priest. “Oh! Uh, Father Jaime. Hi. Uhm. Uh.” Cecil gripped the back
of Carlos’ shirt in both fists and whispered apologies over and over as he
rested his forehead against Carlos’ back.
The man sauntered up with a grin and a soda. “Uhm. Uh. Your English is so good.
Maybe I can talk as good one day.” He was speaking English, too -- his accent
was thick, but understandable. Carlos just looked down and hunched his
shoulders. “Is this Maria?”
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s --” Faither Jaime politely raised his eyebrows and sipped at
his soda, doing nothing to hide the widening grin on his face. He’d caught
Carlos doing something he shouldn’t have been doing with someone he shouldn’t
have been doing it with, and was clearly enjoying himself. “-- Celia,” Carlos
finished. “Uh, Maria and I … we aren’t, I mean, we’re not …”
“Ah, you broke up. I’m sorry.” The priest nodded and craned his neck a little.
“She’s shy?”
Cecil and Carlos both nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Uhm, we should go to
our movie …”
“Right, right. I need to go, too, before Sister Consuela finds me. She gave me
a curfew.”
“Oh, God, don’t let her catch you breaking it,” Carlos insisted. “I don’t know
how she gets the priests to do what she wants, but dear God, you’re in trouble
if she catches you.”
Father Jaime nodded. “So I hear. Well, you two have a good movie.”
“You, too.” He headed off as Carlos pulled Cecil toward the car, cursing under
his breath.
“Who was that? I didn’t know they let priests be hot.”
“Shut up,” Carlos groaned. “If my parents find out … He saw us …”
Cecil shrugged. “He thinks I’m a girl. He didn’t really see me, anyway, I don’t
think.”
Marcus was already complaining at the screen. He threw some popcorn at them as
they got in. “Leave me to haul the food and drinks back while you go off to
make out. Jerks. Damn it, of course going to the lake is a bad idea!”
Cecil settled between Carlos’ legs again, this time turning his face into
Carlos’ neck and hiding it there. Carlos and Marcus settled into their usual
horror movie routine. Cecil laughed once in a while, and Carlos kept a firm
grip on him. They’d gotten to a particularly gruesome part when Cecil shifted
and lifted his head a bit. He must have caught a glimpse of the screen, because
he let out a short shriek just as the demon pulled a woman, screaming, into the
darkness. He whipped back around and ended up straddling Carlos’ legs and
burying his face in Carlos’ neck, shivering and quite possibly crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Carlos held him tightly and stroked his hair. “It’s okay. Shh, Cecil, it’s ok.
Marcus, turn that down.” Marcus turned the radio down, and thankfully didn’t
say anything. Carlos held Cecil’s head in his hands, cupping the young man’s
ears and pulling him close enough to need to turn his face a bit so their noses
didn’t smush against each other. “You’re okay,” he said firmly. “Cecil, you’re
okay. You’re safe, all right? I’m right here.” He kissed Cecil’s forehead and
watched the tears make his eyes shine almost unnaturally bright. “Right here.
Okay?”
“O, okay,” Cecil whispered. He still flinched at the sounds of the movie, but
relaxed as Carlos kissed him again, gently, on the nose, and then the cheek,
and then the lips.
That was the distraction he needed, or at least the first one that worked. They
kept kissing, first without tongue and then with, and eventually the movie
stopped startling Cecil. His hands had found their way under Carlos’ shirt and
around his back, just like Carlos’ hands were splayed against Cecil’s bare
skin. They weren’t quite panting, but it was close.
“You’re both cockteases,” Marcus finally muttered.
Carlos reached one hand out to shove his friend, who laughed. Then they all
jumped when someone appeared in front of them. “Carlos! Thank God I found you.”
Father Jaime was speaking Spanish and looking frantic. Carlos froze. “I need
you to hide me. Sister Consuela is here with some of the girls from church.”
Marcus started laughing. “I don’t know what you’re saying, man, but you look
like you need a place to hide. You speak English?”
“Of course,” Father Jaime replied. “Oh, you’re not Mexican?”
“No, I’m Indian. Still brown, though. Come on, Carlos, move over.” The smugness
in his voice would have been infuriating, in other circumstances.
“Uhm …” Carlos and Cecil shifted to the side, giving Father Jaime enough room
to squeeze in between them and Marcus. “Celia’s afraid of scary movies.”
“Of course she is,” Father Jaime laughed. “I think most girls are afraid of
scary movies when there’s a handsome young man there to keep them safe.” Cecil
was still hiding his face, but he started laughing at that. Father Jaime
grinned at them. “I may be a priest, but I’m well aware of how teenagers work.”
He slid down until he could rest his head on the back of the seat. “Sorry to
interrupt.”
“I don’t think you are,” Marcus replied. “I really don’t think you are.”
That got a short chuckle. “Well. I’m not as sorry as I could be.” He and Marcus
shared another laugh before Marcus took up his running commentary again. This
time, Carlos joined in, and once Father Jaime had watched for a few minutes, he
joined in, as well. It was apparently enough to keep Cecil from noticing the
movie, because he relaxed in Carlos’ arms and eventually fell asleep. Once the
movie had ended, Father Jaime turned to Carlos with another grin. “So … I’ll
see you at confession this week, yes?” He raised his eyebrows at Cecil.
Carlos lowered his own eyes and nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sorry …”
“Don’t be. Well, be sorry. But we all do things we shouldn’t. Thank you for
hiding me.” The priest climbed out of the car and leaned down again. “You three
have a good night. You have condoms, Carlos?”
Marcus started howling with laughter, and that, combined with Carlos’ startled
yell of “What?!”, woke Cecil up.
Father Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Carlos. Try not to have sex, but
if you do, be safe about it. You don’t need any?” He reached into his pocket
questioningly, and Carlos managed to stammer out a definite no. “All right. See
you on Sunday.”
Then he sauntered off, leaving Marcus in tears of laughter as Cecil sleepily
asked what was going on.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for disappearing. I'm still trying to work on this, amongst
     other things.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Summary
     Marcus and Cecil come over for dinner.
“Hey, Mom, Dad, can I invite a couple friends over for dinner?”
He got a glare from his mother. “If you keep using English at home, you’re
going to forget your Spanish.”
Carlos squeezed his eyes shut to keep from rolling them. As if he didn’t use
Spanish on a regular basis. “¿Mamá, Papá, puedo tener un par de amigos a
cenar?” he repeated flawlessly.
“That’s better,” she cooed as she turned back to the dress she was making. “Who
do you want to invite over?”
“Marcus, because he’ll cry if I don’t invite him over for your enchiladas, and
you know I hate it when he cries,” Carlos continued, still in Spanish.
“Mm-hmm … Marcus is a good boy.”
Carlos snorted, but didn’t disillusion his mother. “And, well, it’s Lent and
all, so, it’s good to feed the poor, right?” His mother looked up, her eyes
narrowed. Carlos cleared his throat. “Cecil hasn’t been eating lunch at school
the last couple of weeks,” he blurted out. “I don’t think his dad has the
money. And he refuses to go on the free lunch program. I don’t even know if our
school has a free lunch program. He’s not getting enough to eat, Mom. I was
thinking we could have him over for dinner, and send him home with the
leftovers? The girls have been wanting to see him again, too. He’s really good
with kids, Mom.”
She pursed her lips and looked down. After a moment, she sighed. “I don’t want
that boy near the girls. Or you. He’ll give you ideas.”
“Yeah, no, not really, Mom. The only ‘ideas’ I get are the ones you give me.
I’d rather not have any ideas at all.”
“Your mother said no,” his father cut in, looking at Carlos over his newspaper.
“No, she said she doesn’t want Cecil near me or the girls. It wasn’t a no.”
Carlos forcibly kept himself from clenching his fists. “Please, Mom? Dad?
Cecil’s not getting enough to eat. Jesus would have let me invite him over.”
His father started laughing and even his mother cracked a smile. “Fine, fine,
he can come over.”
“Thanks! Can they both stay the night? Cecil can stay in the guest room,” he
added quickly. “Besides, Marcus would be here, too.”
He got narrowed eyes from his mother again. “... We’ll see.”
“Ok. Thanks!” Carlos bolted upstairs and texted Marcus, then called Cecil.
The phone picked up almost as Carlos was about to hang up. “Palmer residence.”
“Mr. Palmer! Hi, it’s Carlos. Uhm, can I talk with Cecil, please?”
“Cecil is busy.” There was a pause, then, “One moment.” Carlos sat at his desk
as he listened to Mr. Palmer walk down the hallway -- they must have gotten a
cordless phone -- and then pounded on Cecil’s door. In the background, Cecil
shrieked a little. “Boy! Telephone!”
“Ugh! Dad! I’m busy!”
“I don’t care. You have a phone call.”
“Daaaaad! You don’t understand! I’m bu-sy!” Cecil wailed. “Like, personal
time!”
Carlos choked with both laughter and embarrassment as Mr. Palmer snorted
softly. “Open the damn door, Cecil.”
“God damn it, Dad, I’m masturbating! Leave me aloooone!”
“It’s Carlos on the phone.”
“Whaaaaat?!” Cecil’s shriek was loud and there was an even louder crash as Mr.
Palmer huffed with laughter. “Daaaaad! He heard meeeee!” There was a muffled
noise as the phone was handed over and then Cecil’s frantic voice in his ear as
Mr. Palmer walked off, still laughing. “C, Carlos? You didn’t, I mean, did you
--”
“You know I’m a terrible liar,” Carlos giggled.
“Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed, I’m going to smother him in his sleep, I swear to
God I am --”
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t kill your dad.” Carlos’ face was burning, but the
situation was as amusing as it was mortifying. He cleared his throat. “So,
Marcus is coming over for dinner. You’re invited, too. The girls really want to
see you, and it’s Lent, you know? Have people over. Feed people. Good deeds.
Lent.”
Cecil was quiet when he answered. “I can’t. It’s almost dark. Your parents
won’t let me stay over.”
“Well, if they don’t, we’ll just stay at Marcus’.” There was a shout from Mr.
Palmer and Carlos frowned. “What did he say?”
“Get out of his house,” Cecil repeated. He sighed again at another shout. “Dad
says we can meet you at the edge of the reservation. Do you …” His voice
lowered. “Do you think he’s seeing someone?”
Carlos’ heart started to beat faster. “Your father and I aren’t exactly on a
discuss-your-relationships-together level, Cecil. Besides, I’m a terrible
liar.”
“Yeah … I guess. Ok, I’ve got to go change. I’ll, uh, keep it manly for
tonight. Can I still wear panties? I got the cutest lingerie set, you’ll just
love it -- I mean, you would if you saw it. Because it’s super cute. Not that
you’ll see it tonight or anything.”
His throat was dry and Carlos got up to get a drink from the bathroom. “Uh,
yeah, no, right. I bet it’s cute. I believe you. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you
soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Bye.” He hung up and splashed cold water over his face before cupping his
hands and taking a drink. God above, Cecil in lingerie did things to him. Just
thinking about it make his hands shake. Carlos took his shirt off and splashed
cold water over his chest and back, then shivered for a few moments before
toweling off and putting his shirt back on. He sort of felt better. Colder,
certainly. Calm enough to grab his keys and hurry downstairs. “I’m going to get
Cecil and Marcus!” he called.
“Tell him to bring me wine!” his mother called back.
Carlos paused at the door. “Red or white?”
“That riesling he gave us last time!”
“Got it! Be back soon!” His mother was good at using Marcus’ crush on her to
get things. Carlos respected that. He respected almost anybody who conned
Marcus out of things, come to think about it. Sometimes Marcus needed to be
conned.
It was almost full dark by the time he got to the edge of the reservation.
Cecil was standing at the rear of his father’s cruiser and thumped on it before
running up to Carlos’ car. Mr. Palmer waved out the window as he drove off, and
once Carlos and Cecil were well clear of the reservation, Carlos pulled off on
a small dirt track and parked before turning to his friend.
Cecil was wearing black slacks and a deep red button-down shirt with his
silver-and-turquoise bolo tie, with his hair pulled back in braided pigtails.
He looked at Carlos innocently as Carlos unbuckled. “Uh, what --? Mm! Mm …”
Carlos had interrupted him with a kiss as he pulled Cecil’s shirt out of his
pants. Cecil’s arms slid around his neck and he let Carlos unbuckle him, then
pull him forward. “I want to see your new lingerie,” Carlos told him softly,
but firmly. Cecil’s face lit up and he squeezed between the front seats and
into the back, unbuttoning his shirt as he gave Carlos come-hither eyes. Carlos
had to actually get out of the car to get in the back, but by the time he’d
opened the door, Cecil was down to his black thigh-high stockings, matching
panties and garter belt, and matching waist cincher. Everything was trimmed
with black lace woven through with ribbon the same deep red as his shirt, and
Carlos let out a tiny whimper as he knelt on the seat and leaned over Cecil,
who shifted so he was laying flat on his back. The Native boy reached out and
pulled him down, and Carlos didn’t put up even a token fight like he usually
did. He just collapsed on top of his friend and kissed him hungrily, moving
down the side of his neck and his throat, leaving little nips here and there as
Cecil gasped and arched his back. Carlos had discovered that he loved the
contrast between Cecil’s nipples and the rest of his skin, and ran his tongue
over them.
Cecil whined and grasped at his budding dreadlocks. Carlos had gotten his
mother’s permission to try them, so long as he went to a good hair shop and had
them professionally done. He rather liked them. He certainly like Cecil pulling
at them. They shifted their arms and bodies until his own shirt was on the
floorboards and his pants were around his knees, at which point Cecil put a
hand on his chest and pushed as he shook his head. Carlos lifted himself up on
his elbows immediately.
“I, I don’t have anything with me,” Cecil panted. Carlos frowned. “I’m sorry, I
wasn’t expecting … I didn’t want to assume … And I don’t want to get myself
dirty … Or your car …”
“No, it’s ok,” Carlos whispered. He rested his forehead against Cecil’s chest
and tried to catch his breath and calm down.
“I mean, if you have napkins or something, I could give you a handjob …”
He did have napkins. Carlos bit his lip and shuddered, then shook his head. He
sat up enough to pull his pants up and carefully zip them, then laid down and
shifted the two of them around until they were laying side-by-side. He smiled
at Cecil and traced his cheek before kissing him. “Naw, it’s ok. We can’t
really clean up before we have to be at my place, so it’s best … you know. This
is good.”
Their legs were still tightly tangled, their hips flush against one another.
The two boys lay there for a while longer and just enjoyed the feeling before a
text brought them back to reality. Carlos sat up and handed Cecil his clothes,
holding each piece ransom for a kiss as Cecil laughed and willingly paid up.
Then they got back in the front and Carlos texted Marcus back about the
riesling before backing out to the main road.
Marcus was waiting for them with the wine and a bouquet of roses when they
pulled up, dressed in an emerald green tunic with black patterns on it and
black embroidery over one shoulder, and tight black pants under it. He’d
lectured Carlos on the intricate differences of Indian men’s fashion before,
but Carlos always forgot the terminology. “Hey, man! Took you long enough!” he
called cheerfully. Then he noticed Cecil. “Ah, had to get laid, first. Well,
great. It gave me time to get a little something extra for your mom.” The roses
had a small teddy bear in the middle of them, and Carlos laughed. Marcus slid
into the back and then kicked his seat. “Shut up, man. I’m in love. I can’t
help it. Hey, nice baby dreds.”
“Thanks. I finally convinced Mom to let me try them.”
Cecil smiled at him. “They do look good,” he said quietly.
Carlos flushed and fought back a smile. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, I see how it is. I get the blah answer, Cecil gets the mushy grin and
the blush.”
“You can’t tell if I’m blushing or not.”
“Not looking at you, no, but I know it’s happening. So, are we staying at my
place tonight? No way your folks are letting Cecil stay over.”
“We’ll stay at your house if they don’t want him staying over.” Carlos looked
Marcus over. He’d put product in his hair, too, and was wearing cologne.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, well, you know … I got invited over, it’s Lent, I wanted to look nice and
all …”
Carlos groaned as Marcus didn’t look him in the eye. “Marcus. Mom is not
interested in you. Oh my God, Marcus. You’re as old as I am. And she’s
married!”
“Your boyfriend’s being mean to me,” Marcus told Cecil as he huffed and
adjusted his tunic.
“She doesn’t want you! She’ll never want you! Get over it!”
“Hey, now, I don’t go ruining your crushes, okay? Don’t go ruining mine.”
“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a crush on someone’s parent?” Cecil asked.
“Also, you look really good tonight, Marcus. That’s an amazing sherwani.”
“Hah! Even your boyfriend thinks I’m hot.” Marcus’ voice was smug as they
pulled up to Carlos’ house. “And he knows what a sherwani is. Leave this loser,
Cecil, and date me instead.”
“I don’t date walking egos,” was Cecil’s reply as they got out of the car.
Carlos laughed at the look on his friend’s face.
“Yeah, whatever …”
“Mom, we’re home!” Carlos called in Spanish. “Can I use English around guests
who don’t speak Spanish?”
“He does have a sarcastic streak,” Father Jaime commented from the couch.
Carlos shrieked a little as he whirled around, jaw slack and eyes bugged out.
The priest grinned at him and stood up. “Well, come in, let me meet your
friends. The young man with the flowers and wine must be Marcus. And you are
…?”
The boys looked at each other, then Cecil very deliberately looked Father Jaime
up and down before holding his hand out. “I’m Cecil. Nice to meet you. I didn’t
know they let priests be hot.”
There was a gasp from Carlos’ mother as she walked in, but Father Jaime just
shook Cecil’s hand and laughed. “A gift of genetics only. What a splendid
sherwani, Marcus.”
That made him beam. “Thank you, uh … What do I call you if I’m not Catholic?”
Father Jaime was still grinning at the three of them. “Father so-and-so is
traditional, but I ...” He glanced at Carlos’ disapproving mother. “Let’s just
stick with tradition for now.”
“Mrs. Garcia!” Marcus swept over and bowed, presenting her with the flowers,
teddy bear, and wine. “I brought a little extra something just for you.”
Cecil and Carlos sat down as Marcus got his hug, sighing happily as his head
rested on Carlos’ mother’s bosom. “Oh, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Thank you
so much. Let me put these in water.”
She pushed him away and he nearly floated to the couch, sinking down with a
happy sigh and flinging his arms out along the back. Carlos ignored him,
instead focusing on Father Jaime and Cecil. If the priest recognized him as
Celia, he was in trouble. Cecil had settled in the recliner, leaning forward
and giving Father Jaime all of his attention. His head was tilted to the side,
his long fingers tangled together between his knees, his arms resting on his
thighs. He wasn’t making it obvious that he found Father Jaime attractive and
was checking him out, but he didn’t hide it, either.
“So, how long have you been a priest?”
“This is my first post, actually.” Carlos’ eyebrows went up as Cecil’s smile
deepened. “I graduated seminary school about nine months ago, was a deacon for
six months, then was appointed here. Everyone has been so kind. You’re … not
Catholic.”
It was a statement more than a question, and Cecil laughed and touched his bolo
tie gently. “No, I’m not Catholic. I refuse to be a part of any religious
system that raped, tortured, and murdered my ancestors, along with stealing our
land and attempting genocide on us.”
Carlos and Marcus leaned back in surprise at Cecil’s bluntness and Carlos
looked to see if his mother had heard, but she was still in the kitchen. He
turned back as Father Jaime laughed. “That’s very understandable. The Church
has quite a few unsavory things in her past. You go to Carlos’ school?”
“His parents didn’t tell you about me?” Cecil cocked his head and looked Father
Jaime up and down again. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re here, since Carlos
looked so surprised when we came in.”
“They’ve told me a lot of things,” Father Jaime almost purred. Carlos looked at
Marcus sharply as the priest shifted more toward Cecil. Were they … flirting?
“But I prefer to hear them from the source.”
Cecil chuckled. Yes, they were definitely flirting. Maybe. Carlos didn’t know.
Marcus was just looking amused. “Yeah, I go to school with Carlos.” He managed
to insinuate a lot of things with that simple, innocent sentence. “He was my
tutor for a bit. He’s a great tutor.”
“I’ve seen him with the Sunday school kids. He’s good with them.”
“Speaking of,” Carlos squeaked as he jumped up and flapped his hands, “where
are the girls? They’ve been bugging me to bring you over, Cecil. We should go
say hi. They’ll cry if you don’t say hi to them. Anita got a new tutu.” He was
babbling as Cecil and Father Jaime just looked him up and down, then covered
laughs.
“Ok, ok,” Cecil assured him as he stood. “Let’s go find the girls.” He followed
Carlos up the stairs, then squeaked when he was pushed into Carlos’ room.
“Hey!”
“What are you doing?!” Carlos hissed. Cecil looked confused. “That is my
priest!”
“I was just being friendly!”
“You were flirting with him!”
Cecil rolled his eyes. “I flirt with lots of guys, Carlos.”
“He’s a priest!”
“So?” Cecil pushed Carlos away from him and smoothed his shirt down. “And he’s
a bit of a flirt, too. That’s not my fault.”
Carlos grabbed at his hair, then let it go so as not to mess up his dreds. He
crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at his friend. “Try showing some
respect to a man of faith. I don’t care if you think he’s flirting back, Cecil.
Just … tone it down tonight, ok?”
Cecil’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his mouth dropped open again
before he scoffed and placed his fists on his hips. “Excuse me? Tone it down?
Tone what down? The fact that I am, and always have been, flamboyantly fucking
gay? Is that what you want me to ‘tone down,’ sweetheart?” Carlos turned
sharply, but Cecil slid in front of him, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not offering
to suck anyone’s dick, Carlos. I’m not trying to fuck anyone. Your delicate
priest clearly has no problem with a bit of flirting, so why don’t you bitch
him out, too, hmm? I’m not going to tell anyone you fuck me on a regular basis,
if that’s what you’re worried about. No one is going to find out unless you
tell them. Is that clear?”
“Please don’t give my parents a reason to get upset,” Carlos muttered as his
shoulders slumped. “Please. They’re going to get upset anyway, they don’t want
you here, but … I’m the one who has to deal with them later.”
Cecil brushed past him and opened the door. “I’m not a fucking idiot.” Then he
was moving down the hall, raising his voice cheerfully. “Yoo-hoooo! Pumpkin
piiiiiiiies! Cecil’s here!”
Carlos stared down at the floor as his sisters shrieked and doors banged open,
then Cecil ran past the door again, laughing as the girls followed him
downstairs. After a few moments, there was a knock on his door.
“Hey,” Marcus said softly. “You ok?”
“I don’t know.” Carlos sighed and sat on his bed, holding his head in his
hands. “I don’t even know why I invited Cecil over.”
“‘Cause you looooove him and want to be with him as much as possible. Also,
he’s kind of poor and probably can’t afford food.”
“I don’t love him,” Carlos whispered.
“You’re also in denial.” Marcus crouched in front of him and squeezed his knee.
“Come on, pull yourself together. Did you two fight?” Carlos nodded wordlessly.
“About what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” Marcus sighed. “That’s kind of your problem.” He cleared his throat.
“Now, are you coming downstairs, or are you leaving Cecil at the mercy of your
parents?”
“Oh, fuck.” Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat and the hollowness in his
chest and heaved himself up. Marcus followed him downstairs, where Cecil was
covered in Carlos’ sisters. Juana was sitting stiffly on the couch in the dress
their mother had been working on earlier, her makeup far heavier than a
thirteen-year-old’s makeup should be. She looked miserable and Carlos sat
beside her. “Hey. You look --”
“Shut up,” she snapped.
Carlos shut up as his father and Father Jaime walked in, deep in a discussion
about politics. It wasn’t until they were all eating, the three younger girls
at the kitchen island, before Father Jaime spoke to Cecil again. “So, what do
your parents do, Cecil?”
Carlos’ head snapped up in alarm, but Cecil just shrugged. “Dad’s the Chief of
Police for the reservation. Mom’s a professional corpse.”
Silence fell as Cecil kept eating, and Father Jaime finally cleared his throat.
“Ah. Well. My condolences.”
“It was a long time ago.” His voice was flat.
“Are you thinking of college?”
“Too poor.”
“I can think of five scholarships you could get right off my head.”
Cecil snorted with laughter and covered his mouth with one hand as Father Jaime
raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s, uh, ‘right off the top of my head,’ but,
uh, sure, maybe. There might be. I just wanna work in radio.”
“Cecil is gay,” Anita said from the island. Everyone turned to stare at her.
“Gay is when boys like boys and girls like girls.” It was, unfortunately, one
of the most complex sentences she’d ever said, and she was looking around with
a huge grin, clearly expecting to be praised for her cleverness.
“... Well,” Father Jaime finally said, “she’s not wrong.” He held his hand up
before Carlos’ parents could voice their clear anger. “Yes, Anita, that’s
right.”
She beamed. “Cecil loves Carlos.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Cecil whined as everyone turned to look at him.
“Geeze, why would I tell a kid something like that?”
Caros’ mother got up and picked Anita up. “That’s not true, Anita. Only men and
women can love each other.”
“Mom!” Cecil spit out the drink he’d taken and stared at her as Carlos shoved
himself up. She glared at him and hugged her daughter close, as if to keep her
safe from whatever threat she thought Cecil posed.
Father Jaime’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from continuing. “If I may
speak with you for a moment, Mrs. Garcia? Juana, why don’t you take Anita. Mr.
Garcia, as well, please.”
“... Wow,” Marcus breathed after the adults had left the room.
“I’m sorry, Cecil,” Carlos said. “I’m so sorry.” His friend just shrugged and
stared at his plate. Carlos put his hand on his shoulder. “Father Jaime’s a lot
… Look, he’s probably lecturing them on being rude, okay? That was completely
out of line.”
“Was I bad?” Anita asked in a small voice.
Carlos turned and took her from Juana, cuddling her close. “No, mija, no. You
weren’t bad at all. Mami was rude.”
“Mami was bad?”
“Uuuuugh, sort of. Yes. Sometimes grownups are bad, too.” He looked around at
everyone. “Look, why don’t … Let’s just eat, okay? Anita, you can eat with me.”
“Did I get Cecil in trouble?”
Well, sort of, if Carlos was honest. He sighed as he grabbed her plate and set
it by his own. “No, Cecil’s not in trouble.”
“Mami and Papi don’t like Cecil.”
“Well, Mami and Papi are wrong.”
“I like Cecil.”
Carlos looked at his friend, whose head was still lowered, and caught the
silent tears falling from his chin and the quivering of his lips. He reached
out and squeezed his hand. “I like Cecil, too.”
“Me, too,” Marcus added, patting his back.
Juana cleared her throat. “So do I.”
Alonsa put her plate by Cecil’s and wormed her way into his lap. “And me!”
“Yeah, me, too,” Lenora put in.
Cecil finally laughed shakily and dabbed at his eyes with his napkin. “Okay,
stop,” he whimpered. “I’m okay. Thank you. I, I like y, you guys, t, too.”
The adults were only gone a minute or so, and when they came back, Carlos’
parents looked thoroughly chastised. His mother sighed as she sat down. “Cecil,
I’m …” She took a deep breath and pursed her lips tightly before speaking
again. “I was out of line. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” Cecil didn’t sound as if he’d just been crying. “I’m
used to it, though. It’s no big deal.” Carlos frowned and nudged his foot
gently. Cecil rubbed his own back and smiled slightly.
“Well, that’s debatable,” Father Jaime murmured.
“This is great food. Thank you for having me over.”
“Thank you,” Carlos’ mother replied stiffly. “It’s … it’s our pleasure. Carlos
needs more friends.”
“I have friends,” he mumbled. “The science club comes over a lot.”
“And my garage stinks for a week each time,” his father pointed out.
“Carlos is a mad scientist,” Marcus told Father Jaime. “He doesn’t read science
books. He just blows stuff up.”
Cecil laughed and nodded in agreement, and Carlos shook his head. “Not on
purpose! It just … It just happens! Sometimes experiments go wrong.”
“So very, very wrong,” Cecil giggled. “We made a soda canon once.”
Marcus punched Carlos’ shoulder. “Whaaaaat? You’ll make a soda canon with him
and not with me?!”
“Just the once! We set it off too close to some trees. The can hit a branch and
just vaporized.” Carlos was grinning, though. “But that was more engineering
than science.”
“It was awesome. Carlos is so smart.” Cecil beamed at Carlos before looking
down sharply. “I mean, that’s why he’s graduating early. Because he’s so
smart.”
Carlos shook his head in denial. “I’m not that smart. What else am I going to
do when I don’t have a lot of friends? I just study.”
“No, you’re way smart.”
“Carlos,” his mother said disapprovingly, “you are smart. And you have such a
lovely girlfriend, too. How is Maria doing? Will she come back for the summer?”
He honestly didn’t know, but shrugged. “She’s good, and I don’t know yet.”
“Maria is such a lovely girl, Father.” His mother turned to Father Jaime, who
just smiled and nodded. “You would like her. She is beautiful, and smart.
Carlos is very lucky to have her.”
“She sounds wonderful. He’s very protective of her, too. She’s why you punched
Paolo, right? This is the same Maria?” Cecil and Marcus both choked with
laughter as Carlos just nodded. Father Jaime grinned. “Well, I promise to never
insult her around you. That was quite the shiner you gave him.”
“Papi, I want dessert.”
“You haven’t eaten your -- oh.” Cecil had managed to get Anita to eat all of
her food without any fuss, and Carlos’ father blinked a bit. “Well. All right.
Let me go get it.”
“How did you do that?” Carlos asked.
Cecil shrugged. “I dunno. I just did what Dad used to do. He just … never let
me stop until I was done. I mean, he never force-fed me, he just … I just ate.
But food is yummy, isn’t it, sweetie?”
“You’re pretty, Cecil.” Anita was playing with his braids.
He grinned and hugged her. “Aww, thank you. You’re pretty, too.”
She turned in his lap and hugged him back tightly. “Is Carlos pretty?”
Cecil tapped the tip of her nose. “Everyone is pretty.”
Satisfied with that answer, Anita turned back around as Mr. Garcia came back in
with the dessert. Father Jaime was smiling. “You’re really good with kids,
Cecil.”
“Ugh, I love kids,” he replied happily. “I want, like, ten of them.”
“How?” Carlos’ father asked.
“I’ll tell you about the birds and the bees after the children have gone to
bed,” was Cecil’s polite and completely earnest reply. “I don’t think this is a
good topic around them.”
That set Father Jaime off in a fit of giggles, and he eventually had to get up
and leave the table, squeaking as he tried to control himself. Carlos covered
his eyes as he and Marcus laughed, too. “Please don’t kill my priest.”
“Was it really that funny?” Cecil gave them all a wide-eyed look as Carlos’
mother muttered something about how skinny he was and dished him extra cherry
cobbler. Then his face lit up and he dug in, swooning over how good it was.
Carlos’ mother relaxed a little -- flattery was a good route into her good
graces.
A couple of hours later, Carlos and Marcus had set up the inflatable mattress
in his room for Cecil to sleep on, the girls had been put to bed, and Carlos
had gone looking for Cecil while Marcus took a quick shower after being told
that unless he washed all the hair gel out, he wasn’t sleeping in the bed.
Father Jaime was gone, too, and Carlos finally peeked out into the backyard.
Cecil and Father Jaime were sitting on the swing set, talking in low voices.
Cecil had the look on his face that said he wasn’t happy, so Carlos slid the
back door open and stepped outside. They looked up at him and Cecil immediately
dropped his eyes.
“We’ll be in in a few minutes,” Father Jaime told him.
Carlos stepped forward with a frown. “Is Cecil alright? I’m sorry about Mom and
Dad.”
“Carlos,” Father Jaime said firmly, tapping at his priest’s collar with a
raised eyebrow, “we’ll be in in a few minutes.”
He took the hint and stepped back. “... Oh. Okay. I’m … I’ll be upstairs.
Someone has to keep Marcus from sneaking into Mom and Dad’s room to seduce
Mom.”
That got smiles from both of them, and Carlos and Marcus were already in bed
and fighting over the covers by the time Cecil tapped at the door before
opening it. “... Hey.”
Carlos sat up. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
He got a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I just … had a few things to talk
about. I figured a priest wouldn’t tell anyone, you know?”
“What things?”
Cecil rolled his eyes and started taking his shirt off. “Carlos. I don’t have
to tell you everything about my life, okay? God, we’re not even dating, and
you’re so damn nosy.”
He dropped his pants without shame, and Marcus let out a long, low whistle.
“Hot damn.” Carlos glared at him as Cecil glanced over his shoulder with a
slight grin and wiggled a bit. “Holy shit, I didn’t know guys could look so hot
in lingerie. Date me, Cecil. I need you. I’m not nosy at all.”
Cecil reached behind himself to untie and loosen his waist cincher, set it
aside, and pulled on the night shirt Carlos had set out for him before sliding
out of his panties, garter belt, and stockings. Then he pulled on the pajama
pants that went with the shirt and pulled them far tighter than Carlos ever
could, and they still rode low on his hips when he stretched with a yawn. “Nah.
I’d have to stop being the school bicycle if I did that. Hey, can we sleep with
the curtains open?” He opened them without waiting for an answer, resting his
elbows on the window sill and his chin in his hands as he stared out at the
moon. “Wow … I never get to see the moon like this …”
Marcus rolled his eyes and turned over, and Carlos just watched Cecil until he
fell asleep.
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