Date: Fri, 25 May 2001 21:47:56 -0600
From: Daniel Lund <rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com>
Subject: Make Room For Trouble (Revised)

	I apologize for the long dry spell.  There have been a lot of changes
around here lately, and I really didn't feel much like writing or doing
anything else for that matter.  This story is inspired by a trip I took
recently where I saw two boys working on this well preserved seaplane they
said one of their fathers owned.  I took a fair amount of license, since
neither gave the slightest indication of being gay.

Daniel

Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com



Make Room For Trouble 1:

	Trevan Williams sat in the right seat in the cockpit chewing furiously on a
wad of gum and reviewing the course correction that was coming up.  Landing
in Jamaica was about as challenging as watching moss grow, but his father
had taught him to go by the book because that's what good pilots do.

	He sighed and adjusted the aviator sunglasses that covered his jade green
eyes and looked down at the heading.  He reached out and twisted a knob,
bringing the well aged converted DC 3 or C-47 Sky Train, a World War II dual
engine transport plane, into a wide banking turn, leveling out on the new
course.  Trevan noted the course change on his note pad and set it aside,
burying his nose back into the manual he'd been studying.

	The tiny cockpit was overly warm in the mid afternoon sun, and he reached
up and opened the top few buttons of his crisp white uniform shirt.  Despite
the pressed pleated white shorts, a fine sheen of sweat coated the skin on
his chest, arms, and legs.  He reached over and slid the right side window
open a few inches, but the warm trade winds didn't offer much relief.

	Trevan was on his way home after spending his seventeenth birthday with his
parents and best friend Lance at Disney World in Florida.  Glen and Barbara
had surprised Trevan with the trip, having to trust Trevan's uncle and some
friends to run the tiny airline for them for a week.

	Although he would never tell them, Trev had gotten bored after about three
days, and so had Lance.  They had actually more enjoyed the swimming pool
and getting a tan than the visit to the mouse.  He was, however, intensely
devoted to his father, and would never hurt him by telling him that the
parks got old fast.

	Trev pulled his 5' 10" muscular frame out of the seat and stretched.  It
was a long flight back, and they had picked up several passengers, hence the
uniforms.  He ran his fingers through his sandy sun-bleached hair and
yawned, then slid back into the seat.  It was bad karma to leave the
controls unattended.

	Lance Kirby opened the door and let himself in to the tiny cockpit, closing
it behind him.  Satisfied that it was latched, he bent over and kissed Trev
on the lips and then slid into the left seat.  "How long, Trev?  I have a
permanent flat spot on my ass."  He said loudly over the sound of the
engines.  Lance contrasted well with Trevan, his somewhat long dark
brown-black hair pulled back, and his dark sapphire eyes scanning out over
the open water.  Taller by three inches, Lance was of a similar build.  "It
didn't take this long to get to Florida."

	"Actually, it took longer, but we were excited to get there."  Trev sipped
at the can of Coke near his armrest.  "About another hour, Babe.  You can
make it."  He smiled and reached out his hand, extending his index finger.
Lance immediately held up his index finger and touched Trevan's.  It was
like their secret little way to say I love you, and had been for almost the
entire year since they'd fallen in love.  "Buckle in.  You can ghost me on
the controls."  He pointed at the headphones and mike hanging over Lance's
head.  "Put those on."  Trev put his own on and turned on the system.

	Trevan was a U.S. citizen, born in Miami.  His father had owned SeaCat's
Island Service for sixteen of Trev's seventeen years.  They lived in
Jamaica, but flew all over the gulf, ferrying passengers, cargo, and mail.
It was a charmed life, and Trev loved it.

	Lance's father had located to Jamaica with a hotel group, and now ran a
large resort hotel.  Lance's mother had died in a car accident three years
ago, and Mark Kirby had never remarried.  Lance and Trev met at school, and
had been head over heals since day one, although neither had realized it for
a few months.

	Both had been invited to a party on the beach, where Lance over heard
Trevan talking about piloting a plane with his dad.  He had stopped just
short of calling Trev a liar, and they'd nearly fought about it.  Trevan
hotly challenged Lance to come to the small local airport the next day and
find out what was true and what wasn't.

	After meeting Trevan's dad, they took a short flight out over the sea,
piloted almost entirely by Trevan.  Not only had he eaten his words, but
Lance had fallen in love.  It had taken a few weeks for either of them to
broach the issue that they were both gay, but after that, they had been
nearly inseparable.

	Trevan had told his parents about their relationship right away.  They had
both known for sometime that Trevan had decided he was gay.  They were less
than excited about this, but they were happy that he'd found a person as
decent as Lance.

	Lance's dad was not thrilled at all with the development, preferring to
ignore it all together, referring to Trevan as Lance's 'friend'.  Lance and
his father enjoyed a strained relationship, each trying to find ways to talk
to the other without a shouting match.

	Lance grinned and slid into the seat, pulling the straps over his
shoulders.  With every fiber of his being, he wanted to fly as well as Trev
did.  Lance slid his feet onto the pedals and lightly gripped the wheel,
feeling an electric thrill run up his spine.  He glanced over to see Trev
smile at him knowingly.

	"Easy."  Trev laughed touching Lance's arm.  "We're still on auto-pilot."

	Lance jerked his hands back in surprise, then smiled sheepishly.  "Sorry."
They spent the next forty minutes going over the instruments, studying the
layout and uses of each one.  Lance jumped when the radio came to life.

	"Port Scott, Sierra Charlie one one seven."  A deep metallic voice called
out, heavily accented. Lance looked at Trev, and Trev nodded.  Lance keyed
his mike.  "Go ahead Port Scott."

	"Port Scott, one one seven, It's about time, guys."  The voice sounded
amused.

	"We missed you, too, Michael."  Trev said.  "We're about two four zero
miles out."

	"Georgie says he has you in the radar, Mon.  He says come left twelve
degrees and descend to eight thousand."  Michael said.

	They laughed at his garbled reference to the radar.  "Mickey, it's 'on' the
radar."  Lance chuckled.

	"Whatever, mon.  Get your butts on the ground so I can hear about the
trip."  His voice smiled in tone.

	"One one seven, roger."  Trev said and adjusted the autopilot to the new
heading.  A red light came on overhead, and he reached up and slapped the
panel.  The light went out.

	"What was that?"  Lance asked worriedly.

	"That damn feeder valve relay we put in with dad.  I think we pinched the
wire."  Trev answered disgustedly.

	"Is it serious?"  Lance looked up as the light came back on.

	"Naw."  Trev leaned forward and looked at the fuel gauges.  "The tanks
still have gas in 'em."  No sooner had he said that than the right side of
the plane shuddered.  They looked out the window and saw the engine sputter
and cough.  Trev looked back into Lance's wide eyes, and reached across the
panel for a switch.  "Lance, by your left hand is the siphon valve switch.
Turn it to the left half way."

	The cockpit door opened, and Glen settled into the engineer's seat.
"What's happening boy's?"  He scanned the board, saw that the right tank now
read empty, and that Trev had already started transferring from the left
tank to keep the engine going.  He smiled with pride.  "Not to much, son."

	Lance started to get up, unbuckling his belts, and Glen shook his head.
"Keep your seat, boy.  You're doing fine."

	"But he's getting ready to land, Glen, and the engine is dying."  Lance
swallowed hard.

	Glen chuckled and leaned forward.  "Adjust the mixture.  It's a little
thin."  He watched as Trev made the adjustments, and they all looked
expectantly out the window.  The engine coughed again, nearly stopping, and
finally caught and came up to speed.  "Well done, kid."  He ruffled Trev's
hair.  "Take us in boys."  He stood up and left.

	Trev heard the door close and let his cheeks puff out in a whoosh.  He
looked over at Lance and wiped his sweaty bangs back.  "I nearly peed my
pants."  He said into the mike.

	"Yeah."  Lance swallowed.

	The landing was flawless, perfectly smooth.  Lance picked up the note pad
and put the time down for Trev as they taxied in from the short runway to
the small building that housed the Port Scott Air Authority.  Trev flared
the engines and shut them down after bringing the plane to rest.

	Lance slid out of his belts and stood up, holding his hand out to Trevan.
They kissed more deeply, and Lance leaned back, smiling slightly.  "That was
not funny."

	"Do you see me laughing?"  Trev shook his head.  "Jesus."

	"You gonna check on Two before we go home?"  Lance asked, referring to the
William's other plane, the Sea Cat II, a Catalina PBY-5 sea plane that they
were nearly done restoring.  "The paint should be pretty dry after a week,
don't you think?"

	"I'd rather go goof off on the beach with you."  Trev slapped Lance's ass
as they made their way down the sloping deck to the door.  "However, since
you offered...."

	Lance laughed and started down the steps.  "I knew you couldn't do it."

	"Do what?"

	"Leave without drooling on your real love."

	Trev looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue before stepping down
the short flight of stairs to the ground.  "Pretty pathetic to be jealous of
a plane, dickhead."

	"I'm not jealous, I just know that you're never happier than when you're in
the air."  Lance shot back.

	"Or with you."  Trev held out his hand and caught Lance's briefly, then let
it go.  They walked towards the main hanger in silence, enjoying each
other's company.  The hanger, an old military building, sat like a huge
rusted box, incongruous with the palm trees and the white sand beach less
than half a mile away.  Large shade trees grew behind it, sheltered from the
wind by its bulk, and several smaller planes were parked near it.

	Trev unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, jamming it in the pocket of
his uniform shorts.  His mother would have a fit, but that was okay.  Lance
did likewise as he followed Trev into the familiar building where they'd
spent most of the last six weeks sanding down a world war II dinosaur and
getting it ready for painting to match Sea Cat's colors.

	Trev gasped and grinned widely, stopping just inside the small man door
next to the huge rolling walls.  "They got the engines mounted!"  He
exclaimed and jogged forward.  The PBY Catalina sat in the middle of the
cavern on its three landing gear, its 104' wingspan nearly touching the
sidewalls.  Its hull, formerly navy flat blue and covered with rust, gleamed
a clean shiny white.  The nose had been painted dark blue as well as the
bottom of the hull, and a blue and yellow stripe ran from just under the
cockpit to the tail.  The SeaCat Airlines logo, a cartoon cat water skiing
and being pulled by a plane silhouette, was painted under the cockpit
windows on each side and on the tail.

	"Look at her, she's perfect!"  Trev shouted, looking up at the two 1200
horsepower engines.  "The cowlings even fit."

	"Didn't you think they would?"  Lance asked.  "I thought that was the whole
point of getting the ones in Texas."

	"It was.  They others would've looked stupid.  They were from a different
series of Catalina."  Trev ran his hand along the hull as he walked towards
the small door located near the tail.  "They got the bubbles sealed, too."
There was a huge bubble window located in front of the tail on each side,
offering fantastic views to the passengers.

	Lance followed him into the plane and whistled, taking in the new seats and
carpet that had been installed for the passenger compartment.  "Damn."  He
said, running his hand over the back of one of the seats.  "This is posh,
Trev.  Like in first class."

	"Yeah, dad's going to use this one to charge more per ticket, like VIP
flights."  Trev made his way up to the cockpit and climbed the short steps
to the upper deck.  The control panel still had instruments loose, but he
could tell that most of the modern avionics had been installed, as well as
new control columns.  He shook his head in wonder.

	Lance climbed up and whistled.  "Looks like a computer center in here now."
  He moved up behind Trev and slid his arms under the other's, hugging him.
"It's beautiful."

	Trev leaned back against Lance's chest.  He looked out the forward windows
and smiled, imagining open sky.  "I can't wait to take you up in her."

	After one more walk around, they got in Lance's Jeep Wrangler and drove the
short distance to Trev's house, a two story old French villa that had once
been the center of a plantation.  The grounds were somewhat wild except near
the house, and although the house was in good repair, it needed paint.  By
Jamaican standards, the Williams family was wealthy, but few realized that
for now, most of the money went into the family airline.

	They parked in the circular driveway behind Glen's older S-10 Blazer.
There were still a couple of bags in the back of it, so they grabbed them on
the way in.  Trev climbed the wide steps to the veranda and pulled open the
screen door.  "Julie?"  He called, slinging the bag off his shoulder to the
floor.

	A heavyset black woman in her late fifties came out of the parlor and
grinned, holding out her arms.  "There's my Tray-von!"  She gushed in a
heavy accent.  Julietta Pornienn was the family's housekeeper, and she and
Trevan were extremely fond of each other.  A member of her family had been
the head of the house on this plantation for over a hundred and fifty years.

	"Wow, am I glad to see you!"  Trev hugged her, careful not to hurt her.  "I
brought you a present."

	"I tell you to spend your money and have fun, mister.   Didn't I tell you?"
  She shook her finger in mock anger and put her hands on her hips.  "So, do
I like it?"

	"Of course you'll like it."  Trev chuckled and pulled a box out of his bag.
  She took it, eying him suspiciously, and opened the end.  Inside was a
slender crystal vase about a foot tall, and Julietta dropped the box and
gasped.  "Tray-von, it's lovely, but so expensive!"

	"It's from Lance too."  Trev smiled and pulled Lance forward.

	"You two are my best boys."  She hugged them both at once and began making
shooing noises.  "Now go upstairs and settle in.  Go on.  Dinner is ready at
five."

	"Yes ma'am."  Lance laughed and headed up the stairs behind Trevan.  "God,
she's cool."  He said as the entered Trev's room.  "I missed her."

	"Me too."  Trev dumped his bags on the floor and kicked off his white dress
shoes and pulled off his socks.  "Man, I am sticky.  I need a shower."  He
fumbled with the brass buckle on his white belt and pushed his shorts and
underwear down.  "Are you staying tonight?"

	Lance dropped onto the bed while watching Trev's little strip tease and
propped his head on his hand.  "Yah mon.  Me dad don't get in until
tomorrow."  He said in a lousy local accent.  "He says he's bein' in the
Keys 'til then."

	Trev shook his head and gathered up his dirty clothes to put in the hamper.
  "Boy, you ought to be an actor with talent like that."  He ducked a shoe
that was thrown his way and laughed, dodging into the bathroom.  The shower
felt so good, easing the tension out of his shoulders and getting the
stickiness off his skin.  After he finished, he pulled on a speedo, typical
attire at the house, and wandered out into his room.  "It's all yours."

	Lance sat up from the bed and stretched.  "Let's go sit on the beach
tonight, just the two of us."  He finished the stretch and slipped out of
his clothes.

	"Cool with me.  I'd rather've done that than go to Florida, but don't tell
mom and dad."  Trev picked up his suitcase and set it on the bed.

	Lance kissed him lightly as he passed, headed for the bathroom.  "I won't
tell.  It was a cool trip, though.  I had a good time."  He emerged a short
time later with his long straight dark hair brushed back and wearing a
speedo as well.

	After putting everything away and getting the empty suitcases from Trev's
parents, they put them away and headed down for dinner, stopping for tank
tops enroute because Julie didn't allow bare chests at the table.  After
dinner, they went with Glen down to the strip to put the DC-3 away and
refuel it for tomorrow.

	It was dark when they got home, and Lance took Trev's hand after they got
out of the car, leading him down the bath to the tiny beach that was part of
the property.  Lance sat on the warm sand and moved his knees apart, making
a place for Trevan.

	"I missed our beach."  Trevan said as he sat down.  "If we'd sat like this
in Florida, they'd have killed us."  He leaned back against Lance's chest.
"Ever notice how much time we get together here?"

	"Not enough for me."  Lance leaned forward and nuzzled Trev's neck with his
nose.  "I'd spend all my time here if you would."

	"This and flying."  Trev smiled, feeling a shiver run up his spine.  "Stop
it, dickhead."

	"Blow me."  Lance chuckled and licked Trev's skin.

	"Later."  Trev laughed and leaned forward.  "Now stop it."

	"Kill joy."  Lance reached out and rubbed Trev's shoulders.  He tilted his
head to the side and bunched up his eyebrows slightly.  "Trev, do you love
me as much as you love flying?"

	Trev looked over his shoulder curiously.  "Are you competing with an
airplane because you don't have any rivals, or jealous of the only woman I
ever spent time with?"  He grinned and leaned against Lance and kissed him.
"Don't be a dip.  Yeah, I love flying, but it's nothing like how I feel
about you."

	Lance wrapped his arms around Trev's chest.  They sat for sometime looking
out at the shallow waters just off the beach, neither needing to speak
anymore.  It was a favorite past time.  After awhile, the breeze cooled
considerably, and flashes of lightening could be seen out over the ocean.
Without a word, they stood up and walked hand in hand up the path to the
house.

	Trevan woke up at a little past four in the morning shivering.  Lance was
grafted to his back with his arms around Trev's chest, sucking the heat
away.  Trev rubbed his eyes and rolled away.  They had left the windows
open, and a chilly wind gusted in, billowing the curtains.  He slipped out
of the sheet and jogged over to the window, wishing that he'd worn something
to bed.

	He looked back at the bed, but dismissed the idea of sleeping again.  Trev
was always an early riser, and usually got up about five, following the
habits of his father.  He pulled a light blanket over Lance and left him
sleeping to go shower and get dressed.

	Glen sat at the kitchen table sipping a mug of coffee and going through the
mail that had accumulated during the family's week in Florida.  He looked up
as Trevan came down the back stairs.  "Morning, kiddo.  Sleep good?"

	Trev nodded and poured some OJ.  "Amazing isn't it, how you always sleep
best in your own bed?"

	Glen smiled.  "Amen.  That was a great hotel, but it was also a hell of a
long haul."

	"You flying today, Dad?"  Trev took his usual seat at his father's right.
"That's a strong wind."

	"The flights at ten, so we'll see.  We need to make every flight we can
right now.  Uncle Matt has three bookings today, so I hope the weather
clears."  Glen tore open an envelope and pulled out the contents.  "Hey,
looky here.  This one's from Sir Geoffrey."  Sir Geoffrey Andon Pettenbrook
was a long time family friend that lived on an estate near by.  Glen and Sir
Geoffrey met at a plane auction and shared a love for classic birds.  Sir
Geoffrey owned one of few surviving British Spitfires, and a B-17.  He was
also one of Glen's primary investors.

	"He's coming back from Wales in a couple of days."  Glen smiled and set the
letter down.  "His grandson Peter with him.  He's about your age isn't he?"

	Brian nodded.  "A year older.  He was the one that was here last summer.
He's okay."

	"You wanna go with to pick ' em up?"

	"Sure."  Trevan stood up and went for the coffee pot to top off their mugs.
  "Can I go with you today?"

	"You'd be more help if you got the tires changed on the PBY."  Glen
referred to Trevan's seaplane.  "We might be able to try a short flight
tomorrow if the crews get some extra time today because of the rain."

	"I'll get Michael to help me."  Trevan set the pot on the table and sat
down.  "Maybe Lance after he sees his dad."

	"I knew I could count on you."  Glen smirked.  "Why, I wonder, weren't you
this helpful when we did the DC-3?"

	Trevan grinned.  "Okay, I'm busted."

	"I've got to go, sport.  See you tonight."  Glen stood up and touched him
on the shoulder.  "Don't hurt yourself moving those wheels around."

	"I won't."




	Lance woke up at just past ten, blinking blearily into the sunlight
filtering through the blinds.  He could hear the surf washing up on the
beach in the back of the house, and his thoughts turned to Trevan.  His
favorite place to wake up was in Trevan's bed, in Trevan 's house, almost
pretending to belong to the Williams family.  It would be so cool if it were
true.

	He stretched luxuriously, splaying his fingers wide and curling his toes.
With a sigh, he tossed the sheets aside, scratched the inside of his thigh,
and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom to shower.  It was strange
how he felt absolutely no embarrassment being nude in Trevan's room, but to
walk from his own room to the bathroom in his underwear was unthinkable.

	Trevan's family was so unconcerned about modesty, or uptight about decorum.
  Lance's father on the other hand was, as Lance put it, sphincter locked,
incapable of the slightest loosening of his ass to have a good time.    His
long hair drove his father insane, even though his overly proper sense of
order wouldn't allow him to outright mention it to his son.  Instead, he
apologized frequently to guests for Lance's "going through a challenging
phase."

	Lance turned the water on and stepped into the shower, the corners of his
mouth turning down slightly, the only outward evidence of his thoughts.  As
he began to lather himself, his mind wandered to the times he'd tried to
crack his father's proper shell.  Only three days after they had figured out
how they felt about each other, Lance had maneuvered Trevan into sex at his
house, knowing that his father would get home and likely find them.

	He did, but having lost track of his plan because of the pleasures of
Trevan, Lance never noticed his father looking through the door crack, and
never heard his dad get back in the car and leave, returning after Trevan
had left.  To this day, Lance could not prove that he'd even remotely fazed
his dad, although their relationship was more like co-workers than family.

	After the shower, he pulled on a speedo (standard equipment since moving
here), denim cutoffs, and a tank top.  He grabbed his flip-flops on the way
out and headed down the stairs.  Trevan's mother Barbara and Julietta had
apparently gone into town, leaving the house empty.  Lance made himself a
sandwich and ate it before heading for home to face his father.  He left a
note thanking the William's for the trip to Florida and sighed as he signed
it.  This house was more his home than his own was, and Glen and Barbara
more his parents.  With a wistful glance over his shoulder, he left.

	Port Scott was a small town outside Montego Bay, virtually ignored by
tourists, and totally ignored by history.  It's population mostly worked in
Montego Bay in the tourist industries, coming home each night to sleep.
Lance drove his Jeep up from the beach road and down the sleepy main street.

	Two or three people waved as he road by, relatives of his father's
employees.  He smiled and waved back.  It amazed him that for only being in
Jamaica just over a year, everyone knew him.  Then again, he thought
bitterly, most of them worked for his dad.

	Maybe that's why he loved Trevan and his family so much. They weren't
dependant on his father in the slightest.  In fact, the opposite was
somewhat true, since Glen and the other pilots routinely brought in tourists
and took them back, many of them staying in Montego Bay.

	Lance slowed to pull into the driveway and stopped, looking at his home.  A
troubled expression settled on to his slim features.  HE sighed and ran his
hand through his hair and looked away from the shady yard in front of the
house.  He missed his dad, but only in a vague way.  He also had felt
tension building in his chest as he got closure to the house, knowing that
it was a matter of time before the next fight.

	"Fuck this."  Lance mumbled quietly.  With a sharp pang of guilt and a
private breath of relief, he put the Jeep in gear and turned towards the
Port Smith Aerodrome, the airport that Trevan's family worked out of, and
gunned the accelerator.

	Trevan wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, totally unaware of
the black grease he was smearing on himself.  He stood up slowly and
stretched, feeling his back rebel.  "Are we done?"  He asked Michael,
holding out his hand to pull the tall thin black man to his feet.

	"Yeah, that's it.  The seal is back in place, Trev."  Michael twisted to
the left, then right, stretching himself out.  "Your father will be very
pleased.  I didn't think we'd get all of the tires on today."

	"I didn't think we'd have to pack all the goddamn axels either."  Trev
walked over to a tool kit on the floor and sat on it.

	"Cheer up."  Michael smiled broadly.  "After you get cleaned up, you get to
taxi your baby out to the line.  Might as well get her ready for her first
flight tomorrow."

	Trevan grinned.  "Yeah.  We can file the flight plan for dad after we move
it."

	"Imagine, being the first to fire her up."  Michael reached up and touched
the hull of the plane.

	"It's all I've been able to think about."  Trevan jumped up with a new
found energy.  He jogged towards the showers and locker room at the back of
the hanger.  "Hurry up, Mickey!  We're burning daylight."  He pulled his
shirt off as he pushed through the door.

	In his locker there was a duffle bag with a change of clothes, kept here
because it was almost as impossible for Trevan to come to the field and not
get dirty as it was for his father.  He kicked off his shoes and dropped his
shorts, stopping only long enough to kick his underwear onto the pile.
After getting wet all over, he slathered mechanic's soap all over his arms,
legs, and face, scrubbing the axel grease away.

	"Trev?"  Lance callout as he stepped into the locker room.

	"In here."  Trev picked up a bar of regular soap and quickly scrubbed off
the gritty residue of the mechanic's soap.  "Go holler at Michael and tell
him to hurry up.  I want to move Cat Two out on the line."

	"I passed him outside."  Lance called back.  He bent over and opened
Trevan's pack and pulled out some clothes.  "He was opening the back doors
to the hanger."  He smirked and held up a metallic looking purple speedo.
"Is this the suit you bought in Orlando?"

	"Yeah, it is."  Trev turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel
off the shelves on the wall.  "I was going to come and rescue you from your
dad after we got done, but you've saved me a trip."  He walked over and
kissed Lance, then scrubbed his hair dry.

	"I didn't feel like waiting."  Lance mumbled quietly.  He held out the suit
to Trev and smiled weakly.

	Twenty minutes later they stood near the plane as a still damp Michael
trotted up to them.  Trev handed them each a Ground Radio Headset.  Michael
smiled broadly and without a word walked towards the front of the plane.
Lance took his and looked into Trevan's eyes.

	"Don't hit the side of the hanger."  He said and winked.  Trev shook his
head and stepped into the plane.  He pulled on his own headset and climbed
the steps into the cockpit.  A shiver ran up his spine as he settled into
the left seat slowly.  He reached out and stroked the control grips.  "Okay,
baby.  It's time."  One after the other, he turned on the main power, brand
new onboard computer, and radio.  "Heads up guys.  Are we live?"

	Lance held up a thumb as did Michael, and there was a faint crackle in his
ear.  "So start the goddamned plane, Trev.  We're dyin' out here."  Lance
said.  Trevan chuckled and keyed his mike.  "Even with all the new shit it
takes a few minutes.  Keep your pants on."

	"First time I heard him say that to me."  Lance looked over at Michael.
Michael shook his head and folded his arms.  "Mon, that's ten times what I
wanted to know."  They both looked up at the windshields.

	Trevan reached up and flipped a red cover down.  "Starting one."  He
glanced to the left and heard the engine start to whine.  The plane vibrated
as the prop began to turn and spun, becoming a blur.  He glanced out the
window where Lance stood, now holding a fire extinguisher.  Lance smiled and
held his thumb up, and Trevan looked up again, flipping open another covered
switch.  "Starting two."

	Michael began to clap and laugh as the second engine caught and came up to
speed.  "She's alive. Trevan my friend!"  He shouted into the radio.  "Are
you ready to give her some sun?"  He walked over to the wall and took a pair
of orange batons off a shelf to guide Trev out.

	Trev flipped the radio over to standard.  "Port Smith Tower, this is SeaCat
Two, Sierra Victor 426.  Request permission to taxi to the parking ramp."

	"Cat Two, you're cleared to taxi.  You have no local traffic on the ground.
  Just as a heads up, young man, Cat One is twenty minutes out.  Don't
scratch her."  George's smile was clear in the sound of his voice.  "Use pad
thirty one."

	"Roger, tower."  Trev reached down and took a hold of the throttles.  "Here
we go boys."  The pitch of the engines changed slightly, and the Catalina
moved forward slowly, turning its nose towards the doors.  When he was lined
up, Trev pushed the throttles a little farther, following Michael and the
batons.  They were just clear of the hanger and he glanced out the side
window.  Lance waved and smiled, then trotted up with Michael.

	It only lasted for a few minutes, but Trevan was in heaven.  Tomorrow, not
only would Cat Two taxi again, but with his father home, she'd fly again.
After almost a year, she was ready.  Carefully, he guided the glistening
white bird to its assigned pad, and with a pang of regret, shut down the
engines.  As Lance and Michael chocked the wheels, Trev looked up in time to
see his father on final approach.  The Cat One waggled its wings, and Trev
smiled at the message.

	Several hours later, Trevan sat on the beach looking at the sunset.  He'd
taken off his clothes an hour ago, and sat with his legs crossed holding a
can of Coke.  HE listened as a swishing noise gave away Lance coming from
the house.  One by one, Lance's sandals, tank top, and speedo landed in a
pile near the blanket, and Trev leaned forward as his love moved in behind
him and wrapped strong arms around his torso.  "Was he home?"

	"Hmmm."  Lance mumbled and buried his face in the crook of Trev's neck and
shoulder.

	"Don't wanna talk about it?"  Trev reach up and rubbed Lance's neck gently.

	"There's nothing there, Trev.  I'm not even trying anymore."

	Trev turned around and reached up to stroke Lance's cheek.  "Ah, baby, I'm
sorry."  He leaned up and kissed the other just barely on the lips.  For a
second, it almost looked like Lance was going to cry.  "I love you, Lance,
you know that, right?"

	Lance nodded.  "Yeah, I do."  He said quietly.  He put up absolutely no
resistance as Trevan pushed him back on the blanket and began to plant light
kisses on his chest.  It was like he was a sponge that could only soak up
one thing, and that was Trev.  Slowly, the shouting match with his father
began to fade, and there was nothing in the world but the attentions of the
one he loved.  No, worshiped would be more accurate.  The entire universe at
times was Trevan.

	Trev was encouraged as he felt Lance relax under his touch.  He moved
lower, alternating kisses and tongue flicks on Lance's sculpted abs.  Lance
moaned and goose flesh popped up on his legs and arms.  Trevan chuckled and
reached over to stroke what was rapidly hardening.

	"Oh."  Lance moaned quietly.  He raised one of his legs involuntarily only
to have Trev push it back down.  He nearly convulsed as he felt Trev's mouth
suddenly enclose around his hard on.  "Holy shit."  Trev began a very slow
up and down rhythm, interrupted occasionally with long strokes of his
tongue.  Lance arched his back curled his toes hard, feeling fire build in
his nerves.

	"Whoa!"  Trev was surprised as he was pushed back, Lance's lips immediately
meeting his.  The kissed long, and finally Lance shifted so that they could
both use their mouths.  It was their favorite position.  They had tried the
anal stuff, and neither had liked it as much.  Occasionally, they screwed
each other blind, but they preferred this most of all.

	After the orgasms had subsided, they stayed in each other's arms for hours
into the night, watching the moon cross the sky.