Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2004 21:00:35 -0800 (PST)
From: SJL <geekwriter143@yahoo.com>
Subject: Paul and Adam, part four

Now, when I started this story I meant to write porn, I really did.
However, the story isn't being cooperative in that vein, and it's becoming
more story and less porn.  For those of you looking for a quick stroke or
two, I apologize.  For the rest of you brave readers, forge on.

Yes, I know I forgot to mention that the story was from Adam's POV in
chapter three.  I meant to, but I overlooked that and the various and
sundry disclaimers I had planned.  I apologize for that, too.  **We're back
to Paul's POV in this chapter**, and I promise that when the POV changes
from now on I will remember to tell you.

I never expected the response I've gotten from all of you-it's really
amazing how many of you have written to let me know that you like it.  It
means a lot to me, and it definitely makes me want to keep this story
rolling.  I said before that I responded to all emails, and I will,
eventually, but the response has been overwhelming at it will take me some
time.  But feel free to send me any questions and comments at
geekwriter143@yahoo.com and I will eventually get back to you.

And on we go...

______________________________________

I've had this bed since I was a kid.  It's the same twin bed I had when I
slept on the second floor in the room between Mom and Caroline's rooms.  I
figure I've slept in it something like three thousand times.

Three thousand nights I've slept in this bed, only now it's different.
It's a completely different bed than it was before because now Adam's in
it.  He's asleep and snoring softly.  He's naked.  So am I.

He's asleep on his stomach, his arms tucked underneath the pillow he rests
his head on.  I stroke his hair.  "I love you," I whisper.  I won't say it
again when he's awake.  I don't want to freak him out.

The skin of his back is warm and I rest my head on his shoulder and slide
my fingers down his spine.  I start at the bump created by the 7th
vertebra, slide down the outward curve of the thorasic, the inward curve of
the lumbar, to the sacrum, the coccyx.

Adam stirs.  I lift my head up, lay it back down on the pillow.  I'm
looking right at the back of Adam's head.  I run my fingers up his spine to
his neck, feel his cervical vertebrae, the soft dip before the curve of the
occipital bone.  We learned it all in freshman biology.  It never seemed
interesting to me before.

"Your fingers are cold," Adam mumbles.  He turns his head slowly, in
stages.  He pulls his head so that he's face down in the pillow, lets the
weight of his skull rock to the side, then flops his head down so that his
left cheek is on the pillow.  He squints at me, then closes his eyes.

"You were feeling up my ass, weren't you?" he asks.

"No.  Your sacrum and coccyx."

"Nah, that didn't feel like my sacrum or my coccyx.  That felt like my
ass."  He's smiling even in his half-sleep, so I know he's teasing.

I bite back the urge to tell him that I love him.

"Whatimezit?" he asks in a slur.

I glance at my clock.  "Almost nine."

"Sleptfolongtime."  He yawns and stretches taut like a rubber band.  He
returns to his original shape as a sleeping lump beneath my covers.  Adam
has always been an accomplished sleeper.  He excels at it like everything
else.

"Hungry," he says.

I smile at him.  My little cave man.  I know him well enough to know that
he won't be coherent for at least another five minutes.  "Do you want me to
make you something?"

He grunts.  "Don't have to."

I don't want to get out of bed, don't want to leave him now that we've
finally slept together, but the thought of making him something to eat is
compelling.  It's my mother's fault.  Food is love, after all, or so I've
been taught.

I sit up and kiss his back, right between his shoulder blades.  "I'll make
you something," I say.

Since the air-conditioner's running, it's cold getting out of bed.  I pull
on sweatpants and a t-shirt and check myself in the mirror to make sure I
don't have dried cum crusted in my hair or on my face.

When I decide that I'm clean, I unlock my door and try to slip quietly down
the steps.  It doesn't matter how quiet I am, Caroline and my mother can
see me coming.  They're on the couch in the living room watching one of the
true-crime shows they're addicted to.

"The husband did it," Caroline says as I reach the foot of the stairs.
"It's always the husband."

"Or the wife," my mother says.  "It's very often the wife.  Welcome back to
the world of the living, Paul," she says to me without taking her eyes off
the TV.  "What you boys do up there all day long I'll never understand.
Perhaps you're plotting to take over the world?"

"Something like that," I tell her.

I wait for Caroline to smirk at me, but she doesn't.  She's too interested
in the TV, and maybe she doesn't know what Adam and I did.  She saw us
holding each other, saw me crying, but I guess that doesn't automatically
add up to equal sex.

"We made madelines," Caroline says as I pass the couch and turn to go into
the kitchen.  "Finish them up so they don't go stale."

I pile a plate with madelines.  I make roast beef sandwiches with tomato,
mustard, and Swiss cheese for Adam, mayonnaise and lettuce for me.  Iced
tea for me, milk for him, thick-cut potato chips, and a bowl of
strawberries that I rinse but don't cut the tops off of.

"You feeding the entire population of Sri Lanka?" Caroline asks as I pass
them, all the food piled on a wooden tray with bamboo handles.

"Yup," I say.  I feel like running up the stairs, but the food would spill.

Adam's still in bed when I get to my room, but he's turned on my bedside
lamp and he's curled up watching me as I gently set the tray in the middle
of the floor.  He sits up, then pulls his shoulders in.  "It's cold," he
says.

"You want something to wear?" I ask him, although in a perfect world he'd
always be naked.

He nods, and I dig sweatpants and a sweatshirt out of my dresser for him.
The pants are too long and the sleeves of the sweatshirt hang past his
fingertips.  He grins at me as he rolls them up.  "One of these days," he
says, shaking his head.

"One of these days what?" I ask.

Adam shrugs.  "Never mind."

We sit across from each other on the floor and eat.  I want to talk about
what happened, but I don't.  I wonder if he wants to forget it all again.

"Mark's dad went to Wisconsin for fireworks," Adam says around a bite of
roast beef sandwich.  "He's got roman candles, black cats,
fizzers--everything I guess."

"Cool," I say, even though I already know about the fireworks.  Luckily,
Mark's been too excited about the 4th of July to notice that Adam and I
weren't really talking to each other.

"Think we can talk Mark into shooting a bottle rocket out of his butt crack
again?" Adam asks.

I snort and nearly shoot iced tea out of my nose.  "He's going to learn one
of these years," I say.

"Hasn't yet.  These shell thingies are really good."

"They're madelines," I tell him.

"Madelines," he says.  He dunks one in his milk and takes a bite.  "Not
quite cookie, not quite cake.  How come with all the sweets you guys eat
you never get fat?"

I shrug.  "Genetics, I guess."  I don't remind him that when he's over he
eats about half the sweets my mom makes.

"Jimmy got grounded," he says.  "He got his dog drunk and it puked all over
his mom's new rug and they had to take it to the vet."

I realize that he's trying to fill me in on everything that's happened
since the night of Tamara Blake's party.  He thinks that just because I
haven't hung out with him much that I haven't hung out with anyone.

"Adam," I say softly.  "I know about Jimmy.  I was there when he was
pouring beer into the dog bowl.  I've seen everybody, just not you."

"Oh," he says.  He looks down at his hands and folds one of the sleeves of
the sweatshirt up another turn.  He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
"This is really weird," he says.  "I've never gone two weeks without
talking to you before except when you're in France."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to..."  He picks up a strawberry and rolls it between his
fingers but doesn't eat it.  "This is really weird for me."

"It doesn't have to be weird."

"I didn't say it has to be, I just said that it is."

He's not looking at me again, and I feel my stomach begin to knot.  I wish
I hadn't eaten anything.

"I wanna go to homecoming," he says softly.  "I want to have a girlfriend
that I can put my arm around in school and kiss in front of the lockers,
you know?  That's what people do."

"That's not what everyone does."

"Well, it's what I want to do," he snaps.  He drops the strawberry back
into the bowl.  "How am I gonna...and I want...and Annie..."

"Who's Annie?"

"Coach's wife."

"You're in love with your coach's wife?"

He laughs and shakes his head.  "No.  But I want someone like her."

"Maybe I can be like her," I say.

Adam shakes his head again.  "I want a wife.  And kids.  And a house with a
fucking vegetable garden."

"I can learn how to garden."

"You're not listening to me," Adam says.  "People just don't...there are
ways people do things.  They get married-"

"We can get married."

"Fucking stop it, Paul.  You know what I mean.  I want all that but I want
you, too."  He rubs his face in his hands.  "God, I'm fucked up."

I should get pissed off at him.  I should think he's a coward, but I don't.
I just smile at him and reach out to touch his hand.  "You're not fucked
up," I say.

"Why are you smiling at me?"

"Because you make me happy."

"You shouldn't be happy.  You should hate me, Paul, because I'm gonna fuck
your life up good.  I don't want to, but it's what I always do, so you
should get out while you can."

I slide over next to him and put my arms around his shoulders.  "You can
have everything you want," I whisper.  I kiss him gently.  "You can have
homecoming and stupid girls you make out with in front of your locker and
you can even get married and I won't care as long as you love me."

Adam doesn't tell me he loves me, but he doesn't pull away from me, either.
He leans his head onto my shoulder and we hold each other for a long time.

He slides his hand into mine and we twine our fingers together.  "I met my
dad's girlfriend this morning," he says.

"Is she nice?"

"I don't know.  I saw her for maybe ten seconds on my way to the bathroom.
She was wearing his shirt.  She has nice legs."

"Better than mine?"

Adam laughs and kisses me, but he doesn't answer my question.  "Her name's
Rebecca and my dad's weird around her.  All attentive and nice to me.
Speaking of my dad..."  He looks up at my clock and I hope he's not
thinking that he has to leave.  I don't want him to leave, no matter how
late it is.

Adam leans and reaches for my phone and dials his number.  He settles back
in my arms as he listens to it ring.  "Hey, Dad, it's Adam," he says.
"Just calling to let you know I'm spending the night at Paul's."  When he
hangs up the phone I'm beaming.

"Machine," Adam explains.  Then, "What are you smiling like that for?"

"Can't help it.  You make me goofy."

"You are goofy."

I kiss him over and over again.  I'm going to have him all to myself for
the entire night.

"You know I have to get up at, like, six o'clock tomorrow morning," Adam
says as we snuggle back into my bed.

I pull the sweatshirt he's wearing up and stick my head beneath it.  I rest
my head on his chest in the warm darkness.  I stroke his nipples with my
fingertips and sigh.

"Paul?"

"Mmm?"

"Those weren't hash madelines, were they?"

I laugh.  "Not that I know of.  Why?"

"Because you're acting really weird."

"You had more of them than I did.  Do you feel high?"

"Not really.  Just tired."  He strokes my head through the sweatshirt.  "I
can barely hear you.  You're all muffled."

"You, too," I say.  I kiss his nipples and his ribs and his stomach and
finally pull my head out of the sweatshirt.  I look up at him and smile.
"You want me to set the alarm for six?"

"Six thirty," he says.

I set my alarm clock for six-thirty.  I haven't set it since the last day
of school at the end of May.

Adam reaches up and turns off my bedside lamp and the room goes dark.
We're curled up together with our legs intertwined and my feet, which were
cold when we were out of bed, are now pleasantly warm.

"Are you awake?" I ask him softly.

"Mmm."

"I love you, Adam."

He squeezes me gently, and soon I can hear him snoring softly.  I lay awake
for a long time just listening to him breathe.

When I wake up there's a hand on my face and I smile because I think it's
Adam.  Then the hand's slapping my cheek and I grumble because I know it's
Caroline.  I open my eyes and squint at the light streaming through my
windows.

"You sleep like the dead," Caroline says.  She sits cross-legged on the
foot of my bed and looks at me.  She's holding the bowl of strawberries
that Adam and I didn't finish and she bites into one of them.

"Where's Adam?" I ask, sitting up.

Caroline shrugs.  "I heard him leave at the butt crack of dawn.  You two
cool now?"

"Yeah."  My voice is thick with sleep and I clear my throat.  My clock says
it's nine fourteen.  "It's early."

"I know.  So'd you get nookie or not?"

"What?"

"Um, let's see.  When I came in yesterday afternoon you two were
practically making out, you didn't come out for anything except provisions,
and he spent the night here in your rather tiny bed.  Spill it."

I think back to laying in Adam's arms, kissing him, grinding our bodies
together.  I feel myself blush as I replay it in my head, hear his moans
all over again.

She kicks at my feet through the covers.  "Come on, if I'm going to keep my
innocence intact I at least deserve a few details to live vicariously
through."

I snort.  "Your innocence?

She flips me the bird.  "You know what I mean.  Has my little brother
become a man?"

"I don't know if it counts," I say.  "I mean, it's not like we fucked or
anything."

"Well, what did you do?"

I blush.  "Everything else."

"Then it counts.  God, it figures you'd lose your virginity before me."
Her expression changes, her mouth gets sad and her eyes tear up.  "Oh,
Paulie, I'm so proud of you."

"Are you PMS-ing?"

"Little bit," she admits.  She stretches out on the bed and lays her head
on my pillow, yawns and closes her eyes.

"There's something I have to tell you," I say, laying next to her.

Caroline opens one eye to look at me.  "Other than the fact that you
finally nailed Adam?"

"Yeah," I say.  "Do you remember Tamara Blake's party?"

"Vaguely.  I remember the hangover the next morning much better."

"I kind of went down on him that night?"

"How do you kind of go down on someone?"

"Fine.  I went down on him that night and I never told you."

"Oh.  OK.  Is that why you've been so weird?  I thought it was just about
the kiss."

"You're not mad?"  I'm surprised.  I expected her to demand why I hadn't
ever told her.

"About what?"

"That I didn't tell you."

She shrugs and shakes her head.  "I don't expect you to tell me everything
about your sex life.  I don't tell you everything about mine."

I frown.  "I didn't think you had a sex life."

Caroline sits up and runs her fingers through her hair.  "In terms of
actual penetration, I don't.  But, God, I'm human.  You think I'm as
celibate as Mom?  Come to think of it, do you think Mom's celibate?"

"You're grossing me out."

Caroline pats my arm.  "You'll live."

"What kind of sex life do you have, anyway?"

She brushes my nose with her fingertip.  "None of your business, little
brother.  That's between Mitch and me."

"Do you love Mitch?" I ask her.

"Maybe," she says.  "It's not like I have much to compare it to."

"I love Adam," I say.

"No shit."

"I mean it."

"I know, sweetie, I've been hearing you say it for years."

"I really mean it, though.  Last night was the best night of my life.  If I
died right now I'd die happy."

Caroline gags and hops over me onto the floor.  "Jesus, with all your
hearts and flowers shit you'd think you were the girl, here."

"It's not gender, Caroline," I tell her as she heads for the door.  "It's
love.  True love."

She turns and looks at me.  "You sure Adam knows that?"

I hesitate.  "It doesn't matter," I finally say.

Caroline sighs.  "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm impervious to anything but Cupid's arrows."

"Jesus Christ," she says.  "If I knew you'd start acting like this once you
got laid I'd never have tried to get you a boyfriend.  If Adam fucks you
over I'll crush him."

"Please don't."

"I don't care about your love shit.  If he hurts you-"

"Stop with that shit, Caroline.  It's not you."

Caroline purses her lips.

"I mean it.  I don't like it when you're a bitch, and I definitely don't
want you being a bitch on my account."

"Somebody has to look out for you," she says.

"Fine, look out for me.  I don't care about that.  I just don't want you
going all Courtney Love on people all the time.  You're better than that,
you know.  You don't have to bite everyone that scares you."

Her jaw is clenched tight.  I don't usually call her out on things like
this, but I want to make it clear to her that Adam's off limits, no matter
what.

"Fine," she says.  "I have a lesson at ten.  I have to take a shower."  She
turns to leave and I could go after her and make her finish the fight, but
I don't.

She's really not as bad as people say.  When she was a freshman she had a
fight with this girl named Kate that got so bad Kate ended up transferring
to the Catholic school in the next town over.  It's become legend at
school, how bad it gets for people that piss Caroline off, but that's
really the only time she messed with someone like that.

She and Kate had been best friends until Kate decided that she wanted Ryan,
Caroline's boyfriend at the time.  She tried to spread a rumor about
Caroline sleeping with a few of our teachers, which was complete bullshit
and everybody knew it.  It could have stopped at that, since the friendship
was over and Caroline still had Ryan and nobody believed Kate anyway, but
Caroline didn't let it stop there.

It's a vicious talent Caroline has, knowing just what to do and say to hurt
people.  The rumors that started circulating about Kate were just terrible
enough to make juicy gossip but tame enough to make people think they might
possibly be real.  Some of them might have even been true, for all I know.
None of the rumors could be traced back to Caroline, but I knew she started
them.  Everyone knew she started them, even though no one could ever say
when or how, which only added to people's fear of her.

I don't know what Caroline would do if she thought Adam had fucked me over.
I don't know if she even knew what she'd do.  But it didn't matter.  The
things that she thought would hurt me, like him dating girls, wouldn't hurt
me.  I was sure of it.

Adam had said it himself, he wanted those things but he wanted me, too.

And Caroline doesn't know anything, anyway.  She hadn't been there.  She
hadn't felt the way he'd kissed me, heard him cry out my name when he was
coming.  I know that Adam loves me, even if he doesn't want to say it.  I
don't need him to say it-all that matters is that it's true.

I doze for a while, until Mark calls.  "We're going to the arcade, bitch,"
he says to me.  "Meet us there in fifteen."

I get up and shower and get dressed.  When I leave Caroline is in the
middle of her piano lesson and Mom's in the front yard pruning her roses.

"And where are you going so fast?" she asks as I yank my bike out of the
garage.

"Arcade," I say.  I stop to kiss her cheek and she grabs my arm before I
can take off.

"Be home for dinner," she says to me.  "And be careful, eh?  With your body
and your heart."

I swallow hard.  I haven't ever told her that I'm gay, but sometimes I
think she knows.  Does she know about Adam, too?

She ruffles my hair.  "Go on now," she says.  "Go play your video games.
Surely the world is waiting for you to save it from alien invaders."

"I'll be home by dinner," I say as I push off on my bike.  I look over my
shoulder at her as I ride down the street, but she's gone back to her
roses.

By the time I reach the corner I'm not thinking about Mom anymore.  The
summer air feels too good on my skin for me to worry about anything and as
I pedal faster around the curve I know it's going to be a perfect day.