Date: Tue, 8 Dec 2009 19:11:01 -0800 (PST)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Peter's Story 4

Trying to get into the celebratory mood of homecoming week, Peter joined
Jeff and a few other friends headed for one of the places on `fraternity
row' near the edge of campus.  The big old house was shared by a group of
mostly gay guys who were well-known throughout the campus community for the
bacchic revelry of their blow-out parties.  And as usual, the crowd was
loud, boisterous and for the most part, very drunk.

"Petey!  Petey!  Look at that one there!"  Jeff shouted in his good ear,
nodding toward a particularly jockish looking blond guy standing in a crowd
near the living room fireplace mantel.  "He's been eyeing you all night.
Go and pounce!  Go! Go!"  he ordered, trying to push Peter over but meeting
the usual stiff resistance.

"He's OK, but I'm not really into him, I guess."  Peter said, literally
digging his heals into the beer stained carpet.  "Actually I think he's in
my Organic Chem class, and seems like a nice enough guy and all, but..."

So what's the "BUT...part, Kovar."  Jeff demanded, affecting a look of
stern rebuke.  "You ALWAYS say that...that's he's a nice guy, or he's a
jerk... or he's this or that...What the problem with you is.  Jeez, if I
had your looks, I'd be fucking my way through every gay guy in this
school."  Jeff said with resignation."

"Well, you don't have my so-called `looks' but you seem to be doing pretty
well for yourself.  I actually think you've sucked off at least half of the
guys here since we arrived here, no?"

"Fuck you!" Jeff shot back, reaching over and squeezing Peter's nose, which
triggered an immediate kick of Peter's knee almost into his unprotected
groin.

"I'm going to have fun, but you're going to die a virgin, Kovar.  And it
won't be my fault," he declared, brushing Peter's knee aside as he made his
way over to the blond guy.

Peter just sighed as Jeff moved away.  It was one of their typical party
exchanges, usually done while Jeff was getting himself drunk enough to
approach whatever hotties were around.

Maybe he would end up like Jeff said he would, he sometimes thought.  Maybe
he'd be a gay virgin the rest of his life.  He'd necked with guys and
fooled around some, but he'd never gotten even close to `all the way' with
anybody.  `Just not the right guy,' he would say to himself, but sometimes
with the feeling that he would, in fact, never meet that guy.

The one virtue of his sleeping problem was that it made it easy to stay up
late for these social things.  At least there were people to talk to.  But
after hanging out for an hour or so and chatting with a few guys he decided
he'd had enough of this scene for the night.  Not wanting to perhaps
intrude on an intimate moment, he gave a half-hearted search for Jeff
before making his way through the hot, crowded halls to one of the bedrooms
that had been turned into a giant coat closet.

As he was working his way through the crowded hallway he felt a sting as a
big football-player type reached over and pinched his ass.  Even though the
guy outweighed him by probably 100 pounds, Peter immediately got right in
his face to tell him off, until he realized the guy was so drunk he hardly
knew what was happening and could barely stand up.

After blowing off the pincher and then making the rounds to say goodbye to
the hosts and the other people he knew there, and then glancing around one
more time for signs of Jeff, he was finally able to get out of the house.
But then he still had to worm his way through another crowd of people on
the porch before finally making it down onto the front yard and on his way
home.

The refreshing blast of cold air was a relief from the furnace-like
conditions inside the house, giving him a boost of late-night energy for
the long walk home.  After zipping up his jacket he was about to start down
the sidewalk when he heard someone coming down the stairs behind him.

"You taking off, Peter? Don't forget your roomie!" Jeff called out, putting
on his own jacket as approached.  It was clear from the slurs in his voice
that he hadn't denied himself any of the spirits available inside.

Peter turned around, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as he looked
at Jeff.  "I searched around for you, but you know Jeff, maybe I was
looking too high," he said, "maybe I mistakenly assumed you'd be on your
feet rather than your knees."

"Like I told you earlier," Jeff retorted, trying to spit back with as much
sarcasm as possible in his voice, "At least someone's getting something
around here."

"Well, now that you have `gotten something,' as you say, wipe the cum off
your eyebrow and let's go," Peter said as he grabbed Jeff's shoulder to
pull him along home.

Though it was well into the night, there were people everywhere on the
street, which was typical for weekend evenings but especially for
Homecoming.  Drunken couples or groups of guys or girls routinely bumped
into Peter and Jeff as they strolled down the sidewalk, oblivious to
anything they hit.  As the two of them were finally past one particularly
drunk group of fraternity types, Peter could make out the figure of someone
familiar coming out of one of the houses.

Because of the yellowish color of the streetlamps it was difficult to see
much at all.  But, in contrast to most of the people they had passed, the
guy's posture suggested that he was very sober as he came down the front
stairs.  He had his hands in his pockets, probably because of the chill
outside, he guessed.

Suddenly, Peter's eyes lit up.

It was Marty.

"Hey!" Peter called out to him, just as his teammate was about to reach the
front sidewalk.

Marty was looking ahead impassively, then suddenly couldn't help himself as
he surrendered a smile.  "Hey, Peter, How are you?  What are you doing
here?"

"Oh, I was at a party down the street, but decided to call it a night," he
said, then nodded at the tipsy figure next to him, "by the way, you
remember Jeff, my roommate, right?"

Jeff gave a short `Hiya, guy!" and then, as he did when he first met him,
looked Marty up and down.  Peter could see the drunken tongue starting to
peek out of the edge of his mouth when he gave him a sharp elbow.

"Ouch!" Jeff cried, as he quietly cursed under his breath, "you bitch!"

"Hi Jeff, good to see you again," Marty said as he briefly smiled and
nodded toward him, not acknowledging any of the exchange.

"You feeling OK tonight?" he asked Peter, alluding to his fatigue a few
days earlier.

"Oh yea, no problem. That was just temporary, I was even fine later that
night."  He answered in his typical way of deflecting attention when his
health was the issue.  But he was less concerned with Marty pursuing that
line of questioning as he was with the destructive potential of a drunken,
loose-cannon Jeff.

Marty looked a lot different than he had seen him before, mostly because of
the sleeveless t-shirt he was wearing, along with loose fitting jeans.  The
tough-guy look of the t-shirt didn't quite seem to go with the serious
demeanor that he associated with him.

He could hear Jeff's quiet but unmistakable rutting growl next to him and
was about to give him another elbow when a slim blond sorority-type girl
sidled up beside him.

In contrast to Marty's sobriety, she had obviously put a few drinks down
tonight, and was literally crawling all over him, mostly ignoring Jeff and
Peter until Marty introduced them.  "Hey guys, this is one of my pals from
my apartment house, Tiffany.  Tiffany, this is Jeff and Peter."

She turned and looked at the guys, still keeping her hands on Marty, and
then just said a quick "hi."  Peter noticed that she was really feeling him
up, especially wrapping her hands around his biceps, though his own hands
were still in his pockets.  It didn't look like he was encouraging her, but
he didn't pull away either.

"Boy, that house was so hot he had to shuck his jacket and shirt!  But
doesn't he look hot?  He says he likes baggy, loose stuff, but those
clothes don't show off his nice bod at all," she continued in a tone of
playful disgust betrayed by a near continuous giggle.  "Well, this t-shirt
could be tighter, but at least some dumb sleeves aren't messing up the
view."

Peter noticed that he still didn't seem to acknowledge her flirtatiousness,
but he did lean into her sometimes when it looked like she was going to
topple over.

"Aren't you a little cold in that shirt?" Peter asked him.

"Yea, a bit," he answered, "I usually only wear this sleeveless thing at
the gym, except that it was my last clean t-shirt.  But inside that party
house it was like an inferno, so it didn't work out so badly.  Actually, it
kind of feels good to get cooled down."

"Yea, he's just FINE!" she interjected, putting her other arm around him
with a proprietary hug that also happened to be about the only way she
could remain standing.  "He's not cold at all, in fact I think he's pretty
hot," she said, then giggled almost uncontrollably at what she had said.

Peter only believed half of what Marty had said and none of her, noticing
how his arms were still pulled tight to his body.

"Well, it looks like my buddy Peter and I have to get going," Jeff said,
pulling on Peter's arm.  "He doesn't sleep so well, so we have to tuck him
in early to get his beauty rest. You all enjoy yourselves," he said as he
practically dragged Peter around Marty and the girl and on down the street.

"Later Jeff, see you, Peter," Marty said.  "Oh, by the way, are we all
still on for the library on Monday, you and Jer and me?" he yelled out to
them as they moved away.

"Yup!" Peter yelled back.

"Great, see you then!" he said before he quickly turned to catch a
collapsing Tiffany.

 "Bye Bye!"  Jeff called back, tightening his grip around a reluctant Peter
and leading him away at a quickening pace.

When they had gotten out of earshot Peter pushed him away, almost
violently.  "What the heck was that about!?  Why did we have to get
going?!"

Jeff grabbed his arm again, dragging him further down the street and even
farther away from the couple.  As they approached a darkened sidestreet, he
pulled Peter behind some bushes but then twisted him around to face out
from where they came.

"Wait here while I do my business, Petey," he heard Jeff say from behind
him, just before he heard the sound of a belt unbuckling, a zipper being
pulled and then the tinkle of pee into the side of a tree.

"Ahhhh..."

"Are you done yet?"  Peter asked, his patience thinning.

"Oh, Jeez, that feels better!" Jeff sighed, the huge relief evident in his
voice.  He zipped back up and let out a loud belch before reaching over and
turning Peer around.

"All right Kovar!  I'm going to tell you two things here and you need to
remember both of them.  Number One, you are well on your way to getting the
hots for that guy and you had better stop now.  He's straight and you know
what happens when gay guys get attracted to straight guys. Broken hearts
and all-around bad news," he said, wagging his finger in Peter's face.

"Number Two, You have already made an enemy out of his girlfriend or
whatever the hell she is, which is going to make things worse.  You didn't
see here bare her fangs at you?  Why he's with that airhead I don't know,
but it's his business and not yours.  So drop it right now."

Peter was gritting his teeth as he impatiently listened.  There were so
many things wrong with what Jeff said he didn't know where to start.

"That's not his girlfriend!" Peter blasted back, almost yelling.  "How
could you say it was?  He barely acknowledged her!  The only time he
touched her was when she was going to fall over! " His face was turning
red.  "And besides, if she was his girlfriend she would have noticed that
he was cold and tried to do something about it," he continued as he drew a
deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

"I realize that he's probably not...um... not gay.  I mean, he's a great
guy, and pretty good looking and all, and I think we're good friends. But
that's it.  We're just friends."

There was silence. Jeff had opened his mouth, on the cusp of some sarcastic
comment, but then held back.  He looked up at Peter and shook his head.

"What?" Peter asked, prepared for another of Jeff's barbed attacks.

But he just continued to look at Peter, not speaking a word, which was very
unusual for the typically loquacious Jeff. He just gave a mysterious
half-smile and shook his head again.

"You know, Kovar," Jeff replied, his own voice surprisingly calm. "When I
first pulled you away, it was actually kind of a joke, you know, razzing
you about him.  I knew you and him were pals and all.  As far as she goes,
she was just drunk and making a fool of herself and frankly I had to pee
like a racehorse and wanted to go home anyway.  Maybe, just maybe I thought
there could be a little more between you guys, but I actually didn't
consider it that seriously."

He just shook his head again and said, "Until now."

"What do you mean?" he asked, perplexed as to where Jeff was going with
this conversation.

"You certainly get worked up over someone you're not attracted to, Peter.
Far more than someone your just friends with," he continued in the unusual
calm tone.  "Then, as you were talking, or should I say ranting, I realized
that...you know what, you actually are in love with this guy. Even if you
don't know it yourself. Or you just won't admit it.  Jeez, you say `if she
was his girlfriend should would have noticed he was cold?'  Well, look who
did notice."

"He's just your type." Jeff continued, looking down as remembered to buckle
his belt back up.  "He's not at all my fun flirtatious sort, guys who want
to have a good time.  No, no, that's not for Peter Kovar.  He seems to like
the boring, serious ones.  Jeez, this guy hardly ever smiles.  For me,
that's no fun, but for Mr. Kovar, that means he has `depth, soul."

He looked back up at Peter.  "His face is kind of plain looking, you have
to admit.  But you don't seem to care about a guy's face or his looks.  Why
not, I don't know, I guess you're just weird or crazy,"

"He does have a fantastic bod, though, I'll give you that.  Not one of
those big oversized gorillas, just nice smooth muscles.  Jeez, the guy
hardly has a waist.  I could lick him up-and-down all day.  And so could
you!"

Peter stared back at him before answering, breathing slower now but not
saying anything at first.  He was thinking about some of the stuff that
Jeff had said.  Not so much about Jeff's physical descriptions, but of the
qualities he described in Marty without Jeff's negative spin.  Quiet.
Thoughtful.  Calm.  But just when he thought about that, another image came
to his head.

The terror in Marty's eyes during the pile-up at that first soccer match.

All he could reply to Jeff was, "...but he really looked kind of cold out
there.  She should have made sure he was warm and..."

Jeff cut him off.  "That, Mr. Kovar," he said as he grabbed Peter's jacket
with both hands, "is exactly what I mean."

					***


Sitting around the large, circular wooden table deep in the bowels of the
old main library, Marty and Jeremy had spend the evening going over lecture
notes, library and internet research and whatever else they could get their
hands on to prep for their midterm.  Included in these resources was Peter,
who had taken the class last year and had offered what little help he
thought he could provide.

Though his A- was the third highest grade in his section of 40 or so
people, he didn't feel nearly as confident of his knowledge as his friends
did.  It didn't hurt in their minds that Peter was going to minor in
science, where they were only taking the class because it was part of the
school's required core curriculum.

"Hey Peter, I think I understand this stuff now," Jeremy said, "but let me
recite it to you one more time and you can tell me if I'm going to survive
or if doom is coming."

"Well, go ahead; I'll do what I can.  But like I said, my understanding was
like a big house of cards. I got through the final pretty well, but I think
that I probably forgot half of it the moment that I walked out the door.
Besides, Kathy probably remembers as much as I do."

"Well, yes, she is a girlfriend with benefits, intellectual in this case"
he said with a laugh. "Between the two of you I think I might survive. Your
explanations helped a lot."

"No warranties expressed or implied," Peter replied, "But I think you both
know it now about as well as I ever did. So good luck tomorrow."

Hearing the announcement for the closing of the library, each of them threw
together their bags and books and surreptitious snacks and joined the
throngs of other mid-terms studying refugees migrating toward the exits.
Jeremy used the time to do a final review of the material with Peter as
they made their way out of the building into the cool fall air.

As he waited for Marty and Jeremy to unlock their bikes, Peter suddenly
realized that he had missed the last campus bus, which meant that he had a
half-hour walk back home ahead of him and it was nearly midnight.  It was
the kind of absent-minded thing that he sometimes did when he was
distracted or daydreaming.

"I can walk back with you," Jeremy said.  "I'm heading to Kathy's and
you're not too far from her place, especially when I'm on a bike.

"That's OK, Jer, I can go by myself, no worries. But thanks anyway."

"No, someone should go with you, it's really late out," Marty said.
"Jeremy, she's expecting you, so I don't mind.  My ride back isn't much
longer than yours. Besides, I think I need more help and Peter can work
with me some more on the way."

In spite of Peter's protests, Marty and Jeremy negotiated amongst
themselves as to who would be best to see Peter back home.  Jeremy finally
deferred to what he sensed was a rather strong desire on Marty's to play
the chaperone, so waved goodbye to the guys as he rode off to his
girlfriend's house.

Peter thought that he was probably imagining it, but it also seemed to him
like Marty was determined to be the one to escort him.  Or maybe not.
Though he enjoyed their time together more than ever, he was also becoming
more self-conscious about it at same time, especially since Jeff's
presumptuous comments.

As he usually did, Marty positioned himself at Peter's good hearing side as
they walked, pushing his bike along with his left hand.  It was a quiet
night, so the only sound they heard was the clicking of the old bike's
gears as it rolled along beside them.

"You don't need to do this, Marty, but thanks anyway. I wish I could tell
you more stuff for the exam, but I really don't have anything else in my
noggin'.  You guys have squeezed it all out."

"Well, as I think about it, I might have some last minute questions, so
it's just a little bit of a selfish gesture on my part, too" Marty replied.

Even though Marty's suggested some on-the-go cramming for the test, they
didn't talk much about it at all as they strolled out of the library area
and onto Main Street, which took them past the scenic campus church and the
President's house.

"So what are you up to tomorrow while, we're on trial?" Marty asked as they
passed more of the historic old buildings that made up the campus core.

"I'm kind of light for work tomorrow, just one class just before lunch.  So
I can sleep in while you guys are kicking ass on that test."

Marty smiled as he threw his pack back over his shoulder to get it more
secure.  "Yea, that would be nice. Actually, it is a pretty big test for
me.  I have a scholarship that requires a minimum GPA, so I guess they all
matter."

"I think you'll do pretty well" Peter said, as he looked over at him.
"Just get some sleep tonight and you'll do well." As he spoke he noticed
some slight sprinkles of rain on the sidewalk..

"You sure you want to continue?  It might be starting to rain and..."
Peter asked.

"Yup, absolutely.  As long as it doesn't rain too hard I'll be OK, and this
doesn't look too bad.  Besides, there isn't a real long ways to go anyway.

As he was speaking, Peter stopped for a moment and coughed.

"Are you OK?" Marty asked as offered his hand to steady him, just in case.

Peter continued coughing with his hand over his mouth.  "Oh yeah, I'm
OK...It's just the cold air, sometimes it makes me do this. I'm kind of
tired, too, so a guess the weather is taking advantage of me."

With his most serious face returning, Marty just watched Peter as he
continued to cover his mouth and cough.  He reached out and touched his
shoulder, which got another shiver from Peter. That seemed to always happen
when Marty touched him.

"Hey Peter, you sure you're OK? I...I don't want to pry or anything, but
even in our games this kind of thing has happened before..."  He paused,
giving Peter a sense that maybe he thought that he had gone too far. "Oh
sorry, I don't mean to pry...umm...you don't need to..."

"No, no that's OK," Peter interjected. He didn't say anything for a moment,
thinking about how he should tell Marty about himself.

"Well, to be honest, there are some things that I, well, I can't do too
well.  I don't like to say much about why that is, but I think I should
probably tell you, since we do so much and at least you'll
maybe,...understand a little better.  Maybe help out if I need you."

"Peter, I'd do whatever I could to help, but there's no need if you don't
feel comfortable.  I shouldn't be so nosy, it's just that when I see this
happen several times, I get concerned, that's all."

"No, no like I said, you should know." Peter replied.  Then he motioned
Marty that they could keep walking as he shoved both hands into his pockets
and began to talk.

"My breathing problems, hearing and, I think, even sleeping, and I guess a
couple of other conditions, all have to do with one thing," he said,
repositioning his backpack even though it was on securely.  "And it kind of
goes way back."

"All of us boys had the same surrogate mother.  She really liked bringing
babies into the world, but didn't want to raise any herself, so it was a
good match with my Dads.  Anyway, Bik and Robert's births went really
smooth, no problems at all. But there were problems with mine."

Peter repositioned his backpack again.  "About the start of the 3rd
trimester she began to get ill and her blood pressure started bouncing
around all over the place.  They weren't sure of the exact cause, but it
appeared that, for some reason, I had caused some toxic condition in her
blood.  She wanted to continue as long as possible for me to get bigger,
but the doctor said she need to deliver or neither of us might make it.

"Anyway, they had to deliver me after a little less than seven months.  Not
as bad as some kids have it, but still not full term.  I'm told that
intellectually I'm just fine, but my brothers claimed significant mental
damage, "he said with a chuckle.  ""Anyway, I guess I'm lucky to be OK in
most ways.  But it did affect my hearing and somewhat my lungs, since in my
case they didn't seem to get quite enough time to develop."

"Do you have to do special therapy or anything to help yourself?"

"For the lungs, not anything special, besides just trying to stay in shape
and not let them get lazy," he replied.  "For the hearing I had a couple
surgeries and lots of therapy when I was little, but that's pretty much
over now, too.  There not a lot to be done anymore, until there's some
magic potion or invention that will restore what's missing.  I just try to
be careful, like not playing music too loud, going to rock concerts, things
like that."

"Doing all that stuff must have been hard on you as a kid, I mean the
surgeries and things like that."  Marty said.

"Yea, it was kind of a pain, but it's kind of all I knew, too, so I didn't
think much of it.  You're a kid, so I guess that you just accept it."  He
answered.  "But one of the good things to come out of it was that I learned
sign language. My parents wanted me to learn it just in case I really did
lose my hearing.  It's never gotten that bad, of course, but I still know
what they call American Sign Language pretty well.  Both my parents learned
it too, just in case."

"They learned it too?!" Marty remarked, and then paused for a moment. "I
guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. I mean, they'd want to communicate
with you and would need to know it themselves.  They'd really have to know
it."

"That's right, at least for my parents.  But I think it was lot harder for
them to learn, like any foreign language as an adult.  But they stuck with
it."

"Besides just taking care of yourself, do you still need surgeries or
anything serious like that anymore?  Is the `heavy lifting' done?"

Peter smiled back at the effort to lighten the mood. "Yes, I think that's
all pretty much over.  I just let things take their course now.  They
closest I get to `heavy lifting' these days is to find the best deals on
hearing aid batteries."

They continued to chat about his health, but as glad as Peter was to be
able to talk to Marty about it, his natural reluctance to talk about
himself started to assert itself.  Besides, there were lots of things that
he wanted to find out about Marty, too, as he eventually found an
opportunity to change the subject.

"By the way, I really enjoyed meeting your sister, she was a lot of fun, I
think everyone had a great time," he said.  "You guys seem really close."

The answer was immediate and enthusiastic.  "Oh yea, we really are.  It's
just us, so we sort of stick together."  He didn't say anything for a
moment, pausing, probably like Peter himself did, to figure out how to
explain things.

"I think I mentioned to you earlier that it was just her and me and my
Mom. You've met Angela, and know how great she is.  But my mom isn't quite
so lucky.  She has...problems."

"What do you...?  Oh, jeez, sorry, I mean, if you don't feel like you want
to talk, that's OK, Marty."

"No, like you said earlier.  You should know, since we're friends."  Marty
got momentarily distracted, something about his bike handlebars getting
slippery, but Peter had tuned out for just a second as he suddenly felt
very warm.

"Anyway," Marty continued, "My Mom is really a great person, but since my
Dad died, she's really struggled to cope."

He told Peter about how close and happy his parents and family were, until
his father died when he was 13.  It was tough on all of them, but
especially on his Mom.  Though she cared about her kids, the she never got
over the shock of losing the partner that she was so in love with.

According to Marty, she spent the next few years of her life trying to
replace someone who was irreplaceable.  Raising Angela and Marty became
secondary to trying to find another guy, with a succession of boyfriends
and marriages and divorces, with a desperation evident even to a young man
like him.

His Dad's family, who always thought he had married `down,' had none of the
warmth of his Dad, who was a real oddity in the family.  But duty bound,
they did provide a place to stay when his Mom was unable to cope, which
often meant during a period of drying out after an alcoholic binge.

"I know she sounds bad, Peter," Marty said with a sympathetic voice. "But
she really is a good person. It was all just too much for here. I guess
like anyone, she just did the best she could."

To lose someone you love...it's the worst thing that can happen to you and
make you...not do the right thing." Marty said, with an unmistakable
sadness in his voice.

Peter was sure that there was a lot more that Marty could probably tell,
but it really wasn't necessary, at least right then.  What affected him the
most was not so much about what Marty went through, but how he came through
it.  He didn't dwell on his own problems or issues, yet he couldn't help
thinking about someone else's.

As they approached the house, it suddenly started to pour rain.  "Run for
it!"  Peter yelled out as they dashed for the front door.  Marty put his
hand over Peter's head in a futile attempt to provide some shelter as Peter
fumbled for the door key.

"You can park you bike in the foyer," Peter said as he finally got the door
open, "and don't even think about trying to go home. You can stay here
tonight."

"Hey, I don't want to impose on you guys, I can wait it out."

"You have a major test tomorrow and you need to get to sleep right away.
You can sleep in my bed," he suddenly realized what he had said, and then
rushed to correct himself, "I mean, I'll sleep on the couch.  My bed is
better and since you need..."

If Marty had caught his inference, he didn't show it. "No friggin' way
you're giving up your bed.  I can sleep on the couch. And that's if I sleep
here at all, this storm could break up real soon."

"Well, maybe you can be on the couch," Pete replied, not wanted to visit
that subject anymore, "but I'll be damned if you are going to leave
tonight.  It's pouring!"

"It's not that bad, I mean..."

Peter cut him off.  "Well, like you said to me once. ` If you don't get on
that couch and go to sleep, I'm going to sit on you until you do!'

"But I'm bigger than you." Marty replied, in a tone that said he was not
exactly sure if it made any difference to Peter.

"Don't make me prove that I can do it!" Peter retorted.

After Marty's surrender the rain continued to pour down outside as Peter
began to assemble everything that he would need, including blankets,
pillows and a glass of water.  All of the roommates were hospitable toward
each other's friends, so finding a stranger on the couch in the morning
wouldn't be such a big surprise.

Peter tried to speak in a whisper in order to not awaken anyone, but
because of his hearing impairment it wasn't the exactly the quietest of
whispers, which alerted Jeff in his room upstairs. Sticking his head out
and hearing Marty's voice and the general commotion, and acutely sensitive
to any opportunity of embarrass Peter, he sneaked quietly down the stairs.
Looking directly at Peter, he made a silent but clearly lascivious gesture
of his tongue toward Marty as he went into the bathroom.

Without making a sound himself, Peter flipped his middle finger in return,
raised his fist, and then pointed at the upstairs as Jeff quickly retreated
to his den.

"Thanks for the toothbrush, Peter.  You sure it was a fresh one?"  Marty
asked as he came out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

Recovering quickly from Jeff's taunt, he replied, "I told you that no one
here had used it, at least in their mouth.  As to any other place, well, I
can't guarantee a completely sanitary history, especially if Jeff got a
hold of it."  He looked upstairs and smiled, in this one case hoping that
Jeff was indeed eavesdropping.

Marty laughed, then started to remove his clothes, beginning with his
jeans.  Peter had seen him before with shorts on, but never with so little
covering his legs.  As soon as Marty's muscular thigh was exposed Peter
immediately felt a stiffness in his pants. Panicking, he forced himself to
look away as he mindlessly adjusted the glass of water on the table, almost
spilling it on the floor.

"Is that for me? Marty asked.

"Yea, um..." Peter replied, trying to unscramble his brain. "I usually keep
one on my bed stand before I go to sleep, in case I wake up thirsty.  I
thought you might want one, too.

"Oh...huh, I never thought of that, I usually just go and get one.  Good
idea, though.  Thanks," he replied.  "I hope this is all OK, Peter.  Are
you sure you have blankets and pillows for yourself, right?

"Of course.  We all share here anyway, so no problem.  Just don't worry,
get some sleep and ace that test, OK?"

"OK, if you say so," Marty answered as finally got onto the couch and
pulled the covers over himself.  "By the way, thanks a lot Peter.  I know
it's kind of a hassle, so I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all, absolutely none", he replied, with a quickness and
urgency that surprised even him. "By the way I'll set my alarm just in case
your phone alarm doesn't go off.  Just to make sure it's all OK.  So don't
worry, there's no way you won't wake up."

"That would be great.  Thanks again, Peter.  The only other thing you could
do better is to take the test for me."

Peter just smiled.  He would have liked to continue bantering like this the
whole night, but knew that he had to get Marty to sleep quickly.  "We'll
talk about that for the next test. For now, good night, and see you
tomorrow," he said before he turned off the light and went off to his room.

After he was finally able to shut the door behind him he just stood there,
motionless, as a huge rush of feelings seemed to overwhelm him.  Unable to
move ahead, he leaned back against the door.

Something had happened tonight. Something with Marty.

He hadn't learned anything new about him that changed his opinions or
thoughts.  The evening just reinforced what he already thought and felt.
About what a really special guy he was.  He was so tough, but at the same
time so sensitive to people around him and to the world.

It felt great just to be around him, and now he was just on the other side
of the door.

But Peter kept staring straight ahead, not moving, just breathing.  Then he
felt odd, almost sick.  What if he wasn't gay?  What if he couldn't return
his feelings...What if...? It really didn't matter however, he admitted to
himself.  It was too late.

He was in love.

And he had been for a long time.