Date: Mon, 2 Jan 2017 21:19:40 +0000
From: Douglas DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aiden  Chapter 23

Welcome back. Aiden learns how much he and others have to be thankful
for at Thanksgiving.

Please give to the Nifty Archive to show your thanks for the story site.

CHAPTER 23
THANKSGIVING

When Aiden's school bus arrived at school on Friday, Miles and Muddy
were waiting for him at the bus stop. Gordon had texted him that he was
sick with a sore throat and wouldn't be at school. Aiden didn't know where
he would be going after school when he arrived—just before lunch he
learned it would be at Miles's house.

None of the boys talked about the sexual play between Aiden and Muddy
as much as they might have wanted to. Miles and Aiden didn't talk about it
at his house either. Aiden knew that his daddy would be picking up a half-
hour or so after he got to Miles' house, so there wasn't going to be any time
to play around, anyway.

Aiden didn't want to be read to that night. When Phil asked him why he
didn't want to be read to every night, he found the answer to be surprisingly
mature for such a young boy.

"Sometimes I'm just too tired and want to go to sleep and sometimes I want
to think about things in the book before we read the next chapter. There's
lots to think about, right?"

"Yes, there is," Phil agreed.

Aiden nodded and went on. "I want to think about Phillip and Timothy and
why Phillip doesn't like black people. And I want to think about if they're
going to be rescued."

"You'd find out quicker if we read every night."

"I know, but then I couldn't think about it."

Phillip couldn't dispute Aiden's preteen logic.

They read "The Cay" again the next night with Phil being the reader. Aiden
heard him read about the rain that filled the catchment that Timothy had
built. Phil got to where Timothy and Phillip discussed skin color after Phillip
told him that his mother didn't like black people. When Timothy told Phillip
that "b,neath the skin, all d'same," Phillip could see the sense in what
Timothy saying.

"I'm glad Phillip is liking Timothy no matter what his skin color is," Aiden
said. "He likes Timothy because Timothy is his friend, and I like Timothy
more than ever because he's a really cool person." That night Phillip had
cuddled up to Old Timothy and smiled when he realized that Timothy felt
neither white nor black.

The next night, Aiden ended his nude reading sessions on the couch, but
not right away. Larry was sitting on the couch reading a magazine and Phil
was in his favorite recliner reading a mystery novel. Aiden lay naked on the
loveseat, wondering why he was doing what he was doing. He almost
wished his dads would forbid him from walking around the house naked, so
he wouldn't have to make the decision.

The night before they had played "Clue". The stereo played "A Kind of
Blue", a Miles Davis album. Aiden had liked the mellow jazz—it was much
different than Mozart, but had the same kind of soothing effect. Aiden
played the game in the nude. He was not sure why he didn't want to be
dressed and why he didn't want to snuggle with his dads.

Mozart was now on the stereo. This time it was an album of his piano trios.
The music of Mozart worked its way through Aiden's brain. He had always
loved music that was loud and get him all worked up. Instead Mozart made
him think of Phillip and Timothy and how they were friends. He thought of
Phillip cuddling up to Timothy in the dark.

Aiden wanted what Phillip had—to cuddle up with somebody who loved him
and made him feel safe. He wondered if he was once again scared
because his dads were gay and that was why he didn't want to cuddle. But
then, why did he keep naked around them? He didn't know why he should
be afraid. Larry and Phil did nothing but love him as dads. Maybe he should
tell Dr. Kelly what he was thinking next time they talked, he thought,
because he was all confused again.

Mozart kept telling him what he wanted. He closed his eyes and felt the
music inside of himself. The loud music he always liked never made him
feel like this—it never made him think the way his books did. Mozart made
him think.

He thought about his daddy Larry kissing him on his forehead and telling
him he had always been his friend. He thought about Phillip being mean
because to Timothy because Timothy was black. He thought about how he
was treating his dads because—well, he didn't know why, he just didn't
treat them right, and now he was lonely.

Aiden desperately wanted to feel the loving touch of one of his dads.  He
closed the book and padded out of the room to his bedroom. He pulled on
his red and green briefs and a Mayfield Mustangs t-shirt. He returned to the
multi-purpose room and picked up his book.

He clambered onto the recliner, snuggled in next to his dad, enjoying the
feel of Phil dad's arm as he wrapped it around his son's shoulder. Phil
didn't ask about the boy's change of mind—he was learning that as far as
Aiden's behavior was concerned, there were some things one simply didn't
question. The two of them read and cuddled and listened to the beauty of
Mozart—which made them think.

Aiden didn't even get naked for bed, but stripped down to his orange and
black briefs. Within minutes of being tucked in he took Horace down to his
dads' bedroom and knocked. He soon was in bed between them.

Mozart had worked his latest set of misgivings out of his mind, although he
had been receptive to any kind of a nudge in that direction. Just like
Timothy was doing things to help Phillip on the cay, his dads were doing
things to help him in Mayfield. He cuddled close to Larry, who didn't feel
like a teacher or an uncle or a friend or even a gay man—to Aiden, he felt
like his daddy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The weather on Saturday was surprisingly nice for a mid-November day.
After straightening his bedroom and helping with the Saturday
housekeeping chores, Aiden sat in his favorite recliner and read.

"There are football games on, you know," Phil said as he walked into the
multi-purpose room. "Not that I'm disappointed in you picking a book over
watching television."

"You can turn on football," Aiden said without looking up from the book.
"But I want to read about baseball." Aiden was reading "Hothead" by Hall of
Fame baseball player Cal Ripken Jr. "I can read with the TV on."

Before a decision on what to do could be reached, Larry entered the room
and suggested going outside and enjoy the rare sunny day. "We can work
on soccer skills, baseball skills, both, or none of the above."

"Baseball," Aiden said without hesitation. As much as he liked soccer, he
was developing a love for baseball, no doubt fueled some by having a pair
of baseball coaches as dads.

"Then you'd better get dressed—it's a bit cold out for just a t-shirt and
briefs," Phil chuckled.

"You gotta change, too," Aiden told him. "Your pants are gonna make me
throw wild."

Aiden set his book on the "books being read shelf" which was on one of the
built-in book shelves that were on either side of the fireplace mantle. He
raced upstairs while Larry and Phil changed into their coaching togs.

They spent well over an hour having Aiden take grounders from Larry and
throw to Phil at first, working on judging short fly balls and popups, and
receiving his first pitching lessons. The weather was cold and crisp, but the
three of them were quite warm and very ready for lunch after their workout.
Aiden's cheeks were red from the cold and the exertion and Phil couldn't
help but think how beautifully healthy their son looked.

They enjoyed thick, juicy hot dogs with chips for lunch. Just as they finished
Larry saw the mail being delivered to their roadside mailbox. He put on his
shoes and went out to pick up the mail.

"Well," he grinned when he returned, "it appears somebody seems to be
very important when it comes to mail." He had separated the junk mail from
the important mail on the way in and dropped the junk into the recycling bin
in the kitchen.

Aiden watched Larry drop two letters in one pile and another letter in a
second pile. All that was left in his hand was an 8.5"x11" manila envelope.
Aiden's eyes lit up when he noticed Larry looking at him.

"Is that for me?" he asked.

"It depends," Larry said.

"On what?"

"Depends on if your name is Aiden Miller." Larry plopped the envelope
down in front of the boy. His grin almost broke his face when he saw it was
from Marty.

Aiden reached to pick up the envelope when Phil told him to stop. "Why, it
has my name on it?" Aiden protested.

"Something is wrong here. We all have letters from Marty, but only yours is
in a big envelope."

"Daddy told you why," Aiden said as he finally grabbed the envelope. "He
said I got the important mail."

They opened up their mail. All three of them had an invitation to the
wedding of Martin Carlson and Richard Jones, but Aiden had two more
items, a pair of 8x10 pictures. Both of them were of Marty and both of them
were game photos. One was of him batting, with the ball being driven off of
his bat, and the other was him fielding a ball at third. Both of them had
been autographed with a black Sharpie. Aiden's wide grin became even
wider when he read, "To my bro, Aiden," along with the date above the
signature.

"These are so cool," Aiden bubbled. "They're both going on my corkboard.
They are the best sports pictures ever." He smiled even wider when he saw
what Marty had written on the bottom of the invitation.

Larry and Phil admired the pictures of the young man on the cusp of
becoming a professional baseball player. Larry remembered the slender
twelve-year-old he coached in middle school and the teen he grew into—
the All-State third baseman on a State Championship team. Phil
remembered the troubled boy who was so desperate for proper male
guidance and eventually battled his way out of the darkness of teenage
alcoholism to become arguably the best athlete in Mayfield High School
history.

When his dads finished looking, Aiden carefully picked up his pictures and
took them up to his room. He moved some pictures and a small poster to
make room on his board for the new pictures. After pinning them to the
board, he turned Horace so that the stuffed Donkey could admire Marty as
well.

Phil read on Sunday night as Timothy fashioned a cane for Phillip, who was
becoming more independent. Even though he couldn't see, Phillip learned
the layout of the cay and was soon able to walk all of the way around it.

The week at school was a short one—only two days, Monday and
Tuesday. Aiden had an appointment with Dr. Kelly on Monday and Larry
picked him up right after school on Tuesday, so he didn't have time to hang
out with his friends after school. The one good piece of news was that
Miles, through his mother, had arranged for an overnight at his house on
Friday.

"We can gobble down leftover turkey," Miles giggled, pleased with his
attempt at a pun. Muddy and Rusty were also invited. Gordon was invited
as well, but he was going to be with his family having Thanksgiving in
Phoenix at his grandparents' condo.

"You're flying there on an airplane?" Aiden asked incredulously, as if nine-
year-old boys weren't supposed to travel on airplanes, even with their
parents.

"Yep," he grinned. "I've flown on airplanes a lot." Gordon was still a year or
two away from a smartass answer to his friend's obvious question.

Larry took Aiden, along with Miles, Rusty, and Mudrak, to the athletic
complex at Centralia. While Larry had met Mudrak, he hadn't had any
dealings with him. He was impressed with the boy's solid, athletic build, as
well as his friendliness and unfailing politeness.

"Do you play baseball, Mudrak?"  Larry asked as they drove along Highway
12 for Centralia.

"I am a very good soccer player," Mudrak replied. "I never played baseball."
After a moment's pause he said, "And you can call me Muddy."

"Okay, Muddy. We'll see if we can start turning you into a baseball player."

"That would be fun. Gordon and Miles say they are very good at baseball."

"I am, too," Rusty pointed out. "You don't know that because I go to a
Parkwood instead of Lakeview." This was the first time Rusty had really
hung out with Muddy.

The boys worked on hitting at the machines, fielding on the artificial turf in
the small fieldhouse, and finished with work on soccer, which made Muddy
very happy. Larry was pleased at the progress the Serbian boy had made
in baseball, although he didn't pick it up as quickly as Aiden had at the
start. Larry thought it might have been because Muddy knew nothing at all
about baseball while Aiden had been a big baseball fan all of his life even if
he'd never played the sport.

Phil, who had to work, joined them for lunch at the Centerville Café, a
small, but busy establishment, which was owned by Charlie, a gay friend
he and Larry had known for a long time. He was a flamer who left no doubt
about his sexual orientation. He joked around with the boys, who quickly
took a liking to Charlie, especially when he brought out free ice cream
sundaes for dessert.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On Thanksgiving morning, Aiden was bouncing around the house in
anticipation. He was wearing his slacks along with a long-sleeved blue and
white striped button-down shirt. After he asked for what seemed like the
one-hundredth time when they were leaving for Thanksgiving dinner, Larry
finally went to work to calm the hyper boy down.

"Aiden, we haven't even had breakfast yet. So, instead of running around
trying to find a way to get dirt, food, or who knows what on your good
clothes, how about going up to your room, taking off your shirt, pants, and
shoes, and putting everything neatly on your bed. Then you can run around
in your underwear and it will seem more like a normal day."

"But, it's not a normal day," Aiden protested. "It's Thanksgiving."

"You've never seen Thanksgiving before?"

"Not one with Marty there. Plus, Sammy and the Hurricane will be there.
And Rich. And tons of good food. Mom always bought a dinner that was
already made and my last Thanksgiving we went to a restaurant. This is
like a real Thanksgiving."

"I understand," Larry said, "but get undressed and we'll get out the cereal
and milk."

"We're having just cereal on Thanksgiving?" Aiden asked as if the idea was
sacrilege.

"Eat light for breakfast and that gives you more space to stuff in more
Thanksgiving dinner."

Aiden looked up at his daddy giving some thought to what he had to say.
"Sounds good," he finally said. "Be right back." He raced off for his room.

Phil was working hard to suppress his laughter. "I can't believe you actually
encouraged him to come back to eat in his underwear."

"He needed something that was familiar."

"At least you didn't tell him to come to breakfast in the nude."

"Like I said, he needed something familiar, not to mention that there are
limits."

Aiden returned clad in a blue Seattle Mariners t-shirt and his green, blue,
and white Seahawks briefs. He thought the briefs were the exact right ones
for the day, even if nobody saw them. They would be even better if
somebody actually did see them.

While Aiden was still bouncy during breakfast, it wasn't to the extremes of
earlier in the morning. After they ate and cleaned up the kitchen, Phil
suggested they pass the time by playing a game. Aiden suggested
Monopoly and proceeded to kick ass as he played his dads into
bankruptcy. After that, the TV came on for football, and Aiden cuddled up to
his daddy on the sofa.

"I thought you owned the recliner," Larry said as he placed his arm around
his son's shoulder.

"I thought I'd let dad have it today since it's Thanksgiving."

"That is very sweet of you," Phil told him from the recliner.

"And I haven't cuddled with daddy for a long time." Larry gave Aiden a grin
and an extra squeeze.

At twelve-thirty Larry told Aiden that it was a good time to get dressed so
they could be at the Bednarzyk residence by one. Aiden was off of the sofa
and out of the room at near light speed. He came back wearing his good
clothes and carrying a large, gray stuffed animal. Larry straightened
Aiden's shirt and belt to give him a sharper look.

Phil then took Aiden to the bathroom off of the master bedroom and did his
best to comb the boy's perpetually tangled hair.

"If anybody ever needed his hair cut short, it's you," Phil said as he finally
managed to get Aiden's hair looking presentable.

"No short hair," Aiden insisted.

"But a haircut is in order."

"Maybe," Aiden said as he left the room.

Sammy answered the door when they arrived at the Bednarzyk's. He was
as nattily dressed as Aiden. The twelve-year-old couldn't help admire the
looks of the little nine-year-old, although he had to wonder as to why he
brought his stuffed donkey. The admiration was mutual as Aiden thought
that Sammy looked really good in his dress clothes. He also couldn't help
but think of watching Sammy sitting naked on the pool ledge jerking himself
off.

Sammy led them to the living room, where his brother Jeffrey was sitting.
Their parents, George and Lois Bednarzyk, entered the room and greetings
were exchanged. Jeffrey signaled Aiden to sit next to him on the large
overstuffed chair.

"Did you know you brought your donkey?" Sammy asked as Aiden sat next
to Jeffrey, who took Horace and placed him on the back of the couch.

"It's big, so it would be hard to not know," Aiden answered.

"Okay, but why?"

"Ask Marty." Aiden looked around the room as if to see if anything had
changed in the last couple of minutes. "Where is Marty?"

"He and Rich should be here any minute. They're coming with Rich's
parents," Jeffrey informed him.

"I thought Marty lived in the extra house."

"He does, but they all went out for breakfast."

"Daddy says that if you eat light for breakfast you got room to stuff yourself
for dinner."

"Trust me, kid, Marty has never had trouble stuffing himself with food,"
Jeffrey laughed. "But, what does Marty have to do with your donkey?"

"Everything," came Marty's voice from the entryway to the room. He was
toting a well-worn brown teddy bear. Coming in with him were Rich, Rich's
brother Mikey, and Rich's parents.

"Marty!" Aiden yelled as he jumped off of the sofa and wrapped his arms
around the big athlete.

"Hey, bro," Marty grinned as he ruffled the nine-year-old's hair with his left
hand, negating the work that Phil had put into it. Aiden reached for Marty's
right hand, which was clutching the teddy bear.

"Is this Mortimer?" Aiden asked as he stroked the bear's head.

"It is indeed."

"Geez, Marty, how come you brought that bear?" Sammy asked with
derision. "You're going to be a pro baseball player pretty soon—what do
you need to have a stupid teddy bear for? It's bad enough Aiden brought
his donkey—I mean he's nine, which kinda old for that, which means you're
really old for that."

Marty looked at Sammy with a bemused smile. For a while he'd been
wondering how it was that Jeffrey, the volatile brother, had become the
calm and reasonable adolescent, while Sammy, who had been so calm and
quiet as a prepubescent boy had become the brother with an attitude.
"Sammy, there is a saying that I have seen in more than one place. It goes
like this: Just because I'm growing older doesn't mean I have to grow up."

Marty placed his free arm around Aiden's shoulder, turning him around so
they were both facing Sammy. He maintained his smile throughout the
maneuver while Sammy gave him the smug look of a young adolescent
who was beginning to believe he actually did know everything.

Just as Sammy started to open his mouth to say something impertinent,
Marty cut him off—only now he wasn't smiling. He gave the twelve-year-old
a look that said, "I'm going to do the talking so you had better keep your
fucking mouth shut or you're going to be sorry as shit."

"Today happens to be Thanksgiving..."

While Sammy knew what Marty's look said, he was willing to dare him to
follow through. "What does that have to do with stuffed..."

"Just shut the fuck up and listen." Marty addressed him in a tone of voice
that told Sammy he'd just stepped over the line. Marty bent down and
whispered something to Aiden, who freed himself from Marty's hug and
walked over to the sofa.

"Here is what Thanksgiving has to do with a stuffed animal." He held up
Mortimer, making sure that Sammy was looking right at the teddy bear. "I
am thankful that this stuffed animal is in my life, because he saved my life
more than once. He was there for me when I was twelve when a lot of
people weren't. He was there for me when I was lonely, when I was
confused, when I was hungover, when I didn't even know if I wanted to live
anymore.

"That is my Mortimer is here because this little creature who can't move,
can't talk, can't think, could still love me and accept my love. Here is here
so I can thank him and so he can meet somebody just like him."

He glanced at Aiden, who sensed what it was Marty wanted. Aiden picked
up Horace and hugged him against his chest. The voice was no longer the
young baritone of Marty—it was the little boy soprano of Aiden, but it said
the same thing. "Horace is here because he's been my friend and I've
loved him since I was little and he made me happy when I was sad. Now I
get to tell Horace thank you."

He took three steps over to Marty and placed Horace in the young man's
free hand. Marty smiled and introduced Horace to Mortimer. "Let's put them
in the dining room so they can watch us eat and give thanks," he said.
Sammy was certain he was witnessing one of the stupidest things he'd
ever seen, but he was smart enough keep his mouth shut.

"Now, how about we play Uno until dinner," Marty suggested, his demeanor
helping to melt the tension in the room. Marty led them to the sunroom
where the parents had congregated. Rich got the deck of Uno cards from
the desk. Phil, Larry, George, Lois, along with Rich's mother and father
watched them enter.

"We should trade rooms," Marty suggested to the six parents in the room,
"since this one has the game table." The parents were agreeable and the
switch was executed quickly.

"Where's Jeffrey?" Aiden asked.

"He'll be right with us. I have a pretty good idea where he has gone," Marty
said.

At that moment Jeffrey came into the room carrying a teddy bear and
sporting a grin. "Teddy might as well join the crowd. I am thankful that I still
have Teddy the Freddy bear," he said. He proceeded to the dining room to
place his bear next to Mortimer and Horace.

"Shit," Sammy mumbled under his breath. When he saw Marty's glare, he
was ready to stomp out of the room. Two factors kept him in his seat. One
was his respect for and fear of Marty. The other was the fact that he was a
good kid who lived in a loving family and as much as he wanted to play the
role of the misunderstood adolescent, he was able to come to his senses
and not spoil Thanksgiving. He took a deep breath and was ready to play
when his brother returned.

Despite its inauspicious start, the dinner was a huge success. A prayer of
thanks was shared and everyone shared some things they had to be
thankful for. The food was great, the fellowship was positive, and Sammy
maintained an even keel, saying how he was thankful for his family and for
Marty and for Susan Fielding, which brought a chuckle from the group.

Aiden took a deep breath when it was his turn to tell something he was
thankful for. "I am thankful I got two dads who love me, and I have my best
friends ever, and I am thankful I know Marty, and for having Horace the
donkey, and...," he looked at Lois, "...for the awesome food."

Phil and Larry were pleased to see Mikey. He'd been battling drug and
alcohol issues and was recently released from drug and alcohol
rehabilitation. They knew Marty had worked hard with him on becoming
sober and hoped that this time sobriety would take hold.

The big topic of conversation during dinner was the upcoming wedding
between Rich and Marty. The Reverend Quinn Baxter was going to perform
the ceremony. He had also administered the wedding of Phil and Larry.
Quinn an old friend of theirs—he'd known them since elementary and
middle school days. He was gay and married to a childhood lover.

Rich's father was going to give him away, and Mikey would be his best
man. George Bednarzyk was going to give away Marty while Eric
Simmons, one of Marty's best friends in high school was slated to be his
best man. Eric's partner, Noah was going to be the groomsman, while
Sammy and Jeffery were going to be ushers.

"You're sure your father is okay with me giving you away?" George asked,
not for the first time.

"We've talked about it and he understands." Before Marty's father became
sober he was mentally abusive, and occasionally physically abusive to
Marty. He kicked Marty out when, as a freshman in high school, Marty
came out to him. It wasn't until after Marty left for college that they buried
their resentments.

After dinner and dessert there was more socializing before the
Thanksgiving gathering came to a close. Aiden sat with Sammy in the
sunroom and told him that he would be spending the night away from home
for the first time on Friday at his friend Miles' house.

"Who are you gonna sleep with?" Sammy asked.

"I dunno. Miles, I guess."

"You better take your sleeping bag with you."

Aiden's face fell. "I don't have a sleeping bag."

"Then you better have blankets and a pillow."

"I'll talk to my dads about it. They know all about overnights."

"They must have forgot some of it," Sammy noted. "I like to sleep overnight
with my friends, but I can't stay overnight with the one I really want to stay
with."

"I know who that is," Jeffrey said as he sat next to the two boys.

"Who?" Aiden asked.

"Susan Fielding."

"A girl?"

"Don't know any boys named Sue," Sammy said. "I don't know why we
can't do an overnight. She doesn't want to fuck so it's not like something
bad can happen."

"Like you're going to stay friends with a girl who won't fuck," Jeffrey said,
needling his little brother.

Aiden's little cock was hard. He wished he was with his friends so he could
say, "Nailed," and show it off.

"So? We've done a couple of intense sixty-nines," Sammy bragged.

"Sixty-nine?" Aiden asked.

"Um...it's something you'll learn about when you get older," Jeffrey told
him.

"I could tell him right now. Shit, we could go up to my room and I could
show him."

Having already gotten a lecture from Coach Sanders after the skinny
dipping session, Jeffrey wasn't about to push his luck in farther. "I don't
think so," he told his brother. What he really wanted was to go with Sammy
and Aiden to Sammy's room and watch the lesson.

"Is a sixty-nine about sex?" Aiden asked.

"Yes," Jeffrey snapped. He was rock hard and was thinking of how Aiden
and Sammy could give him release.

"I want to learn about it," Aiden pleaded.

Before the give and take could go any further, Marty, Rich, and Mikey
walked into the sunroom. Marty couldn't fail to note the bulges in the slacks
of Jeffrey and Sammy and wondered what aspect of sex the conversation
had covered. He could not tell the state of Aiden's little boy tool which was
hidden by the folds of his slacks. He could feel himself stirring, even though
he wasn't sure that things sexual were appropriate topics for his little "bro."

"Time for us to go," Marty said. "Do we still have a date on Saturday?" he
asked Aiden.

"Yep."

"A date? You're dating a nine-year-old boy?" Sammy asked incredulously.

"It's a figure of speech," Marty replied. "We're going out for burgers and a
shake and some serious conversation."

"And probably some kissing and making out after."

"Sammy!" Marty said forcefully.

"Sheesh. I remember when you used to be fun."

"Don't forget to take Mortimer home," Aiden told Marty.

"How about you take him so he and Horace can spend a couple of nights
together and get to know each other."

"Cool," Aiden grinned.

"Just make sure he's warm and comfortable."

"No worries. He'll be right next to Horace."

Just minutes after Marty left Larry told Aiden it was time for them to go. As
they headed for the front door, Sammy took Aiden aside for a moment.
"Find out if your friends know about sixty-nine when you see them
tomorrow."

"My cousin Chase might know, too," Aiden speculated.

"Chase is really sexy hot for a boy."

Aiden shrugged. He had no idea what Sammy meant by that, so he said
good-bye to Sammy, thanked George and Lois, and followed his dads to
the car.

As they pulled away from the Bednarzyk residence, Phil bemoaned their
fate. "The problem with eating out is no leftovers for turkey sandwiches."

"Let's see, we had Rich, Mikey, Marty, Jeffrey, and Sammy in early to late
adolescence—they more than took care of anybody having leftovers," Larry
chuckled.

"Hey, I ate a lot too," Aiden pointed out.

"That you did, son."

On the drive home he told Larry and Phil his sleeping bag problem. Phil
looked over at Larry, who was driving. "You mean you didn't think of that?"

"I thought you were thinking of it," Larry replied.

"How come you guys did all those overnights when you were little and
forgot about getting me a sleeping bag?" Aiden asked.

"Well, it's kind of like this son, things were kind of, well, they were different
for us," Phil stammered.

"What your dad is saying," Larry explained, "is that we never needed
sleeping bags very often."

"You mean you slept in the same bed?"

"Well, we were boyfriends."

"No, I mean with the rest of your friends?"

"Well...yeah, usually we did," Phil confessed.

"Cool."

Larry turned into the driveway. "We'll get you a nice, warm sleeping bag at
Ben's Hardware tomorrow," he said. Ben's Hardware and Hunting Supplies
was situated in the small downtown area of Mayfield.

"I should take a pillow, too."

"It will be taken care of." Larry parked the car in the garage.

Aiden picked up the two stuffed animals sharing the backseat with him and
followed his dads into the main part of the house. He thought about asking
them what a sixty-nine was; after all, they said he could ask them
everything. But he had a feeling that they weren't prepared to talk about
sixty-nines.

That night Larry and Phil both tucked Aiden in.

"Thanks for letting me be your son," he told them as Phil pulled the sheet
over his bare chest.

"We love you," Larry told him. "We are thankful that you're in our lives, and
thankful that you're a really great kid."

"I am?"

"You are a great kid," Phil echoed.

Aiden flashed his signature wide grin. "No reading tonight."

"Okay," Phil agreed. He and Larry had both learned not to argue about the
nightly reading time.

After his dads left, Aiden turned his desk light on. He looked Horace and
Mortimer sitting side-by-side on the shelf above his desk, their eyes fixed
on the corkboard with its two pictures of Marty, the WSU Cougar, playing
baseball. He opened the desk drawer, took his bottle of lotion out, and
pulled back his covers. He lubed his cocklet and jerked himself off to a
satisfactory climax thinking of Sammy masturbating at the edge of the
swimming pool. He wondered if that had anything to do with the number
sixty-nine.

He turned off his light and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Next: Muddy and Marty.