Chapter Text
Last night he dreamt of the time a gas leak closed his office. Without a thought he drove to the hotel on the New Hampshire shoreline Sarah was at for a work conference. He surprised her at the restaurant attached to the lobby. They drove around with the windows down to get their fill of salty air. A bag of lobster rolls was purchased with $1.78 in change found on every surface of their car because both their wallets were back in the room. Late night leftovers were forgotten when they saw the melted butter spilled in the styrofoam container. It coated their hands as they both tried to salvage the lobster. Then they forgot about that task. Sarah missed the early morning seminar the next day. With a new container of melted butter secured from the restaurant upon request, Dan burned a sick day to leave after lunch when they finally ate the lobster rolls that had been the entire reason for the brief road trip the night before.
"How do you know all of that?" Dan asked after the complete update on at least eight different people at the club. Carl told him things about his co-workers that his Wednesday weekly sit rep with Gurgs left out entirely.
King of the understatement replied, "I come here a lot." With the light from the dance floor hitting his eyes, Carl glowed.
Carl talked to everyone. Actually talked, not tossed someone a few syllables as he passed by, conversed with them. He made a point of stopping over to tell the homeless men who hung out by the entrance of the courthouse garage that bad weather was forecast for the next day. He knew doormen by name. And remembered that the bartender here had celebrated her birthday since he'd last seen her.
Now he was waiting for a response to an unheard question. It took a second for the song to break through into the present timeline. They were dancing. Dan admitted, “I was somewhere else.”
“It's OK.”
“No, it's not,” He pulled Carl closer. “You deserve my attention.”
There was a mix of people enjoying themselves in the unassuming club on the outskirts of Little Italy. No one seemed out of place. It didn't matter that he was looking forward to a drink and a seat at their table since he wasn't the only senior citizen visible. The ice shifted in the glass when he bumped his knee on the corner.
“What did you do to MT?” Carl threw the question out casually, like asking 'how was your day?' in a normal conversation.
“Everything,” Dan's look turned lecherous after wiping his chin from the drink that spilled when the question surprised him. He took Carl’s unimpressed hum to mean that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Carl had spelled out the pure disgust MT had conveyed to him when the subject of one Dan Fielding came up over the years in his presence. "Specifically?"
"If you don't mind."
He'd followed her trial closely. Never completely convinced he was in the clear after their affair ended. It wound up being the one time he was thankful for the thoroughness of IRS investigators. Because of them, she was in federal prison for the highly inventive accounting techniques she used to avoid taxes and the prying eyes of her business partners in equal measures. "I didn't know who she was. Back in those days when a woman picked up all the tabs, you didn't ask questions. She had more expensive taste than me."
Carl’s eyebrows rose appropriately.
"I…it's a long story. It winds up with me at Loverboy's house being outed by my sister which cost me two hundred thousand dollars." Both hands held the edge of the table to stop himself from rambling.
Carl's eyes were steady, "Your sister."
"She wasn't my sister. I do have one but she wasn't there. I had told…you know what, it doesn't matter." Thoughts of that time in his life made his heartbeat echo in his ears.
"Please continue."
"I didn't cheat on her. There was no need to. Christine told her I was gay and that was it. She said everything fell into place. That's why I was so cold. Hollow was the word she used." He pushed sweat dampened hair away from his forehead. "You try being tender in a wet suit."
Carl began to ask a question but thought better of it.
"Her father was in the middle of offering me cash NOT to date her." Dan jabbed at his drink with his straw and added a pouting lower lip. "I should have just done that, threatened to marry women in the 80s and have their families pay me to go away."
"How often did that come up?"
"Twice. I kept waiting for it to happen with Sarah. Her father died before we met."
Curiosity sated, Carl crossed his legs and threw an arm over the back of his chair. "I'm guessing you charmed Sarah's Mom."
"Estelle loved me. She said I made Sarah happy. That was all she cared about."
Carl leaned forward, "You're beautiful when you talk about her."
Dan watched the folks on the dance floor, unsure how to respond, "Some days I don't think she was real." He noticed his glass held only ice cubes. "What about you?"
"Dad was never in the picture but he would have followed the family line if he was around, I suppose. Mama didn't approve. Vincent's family was kind to me. When our relationship lined up with the holidays we went to their house. He was an only child. Which is rare for an Italian family. Vincent said it was medical." He used both hands to flatten out the napkin in front of him. "None of my business. They were lovely people. They never got over losing their son."
"Sorry."
"It's OK. I hadn't thought of them in a long time for some reason. What you said about Estelle reminded me." Carl thanked the waiter who dropped off new drinks for both of them with a folded ten dollar bill that appeared between his fingers from thin air. "I was greedy."
Dan reran the movement over in his head against the list of tells Harry shared with him. "What are you talking about?"
"All I ever wanted from him was more time." Both eyes closed with a long sip. "I still do."
"I don't see how that's greedy."
"It's what we fought about. I should say it's what we fought about the most." Carl offered a forced smile before he looked away.
Dan hadn't known Carl for long but he understood a few things already. "Shall we get in one more spin around the dance floor?" The conversation was over.
They twirled around each other in the outer layer of the other dancers on the floor. You could tell how long the couple had been together by the distance between them. The closer you got to the center, the more likely you'd find two people swaying without regard for the rhythm of the song being played.
“I’ve got an espresso machine for morning coffee.”
“Trying to imagine the heavily caffeinated version of you.” Dan looked him over, arching back at his waist. “It's terrifying, if I’m honest.” The flat stare he got back from Carl made his stomach knot.
“Nah, it’s the perfect start to the day. The kitchen is my happy place. Nona taught me how to cook. I love to cook for company." Words ran together as Carl forgot to breathe between them. "If you planned on sticking around tonight. No pressure.”
The promise of a breakfast not wrapped in paper encouraged him to take the plunge and see where they wound up. "We should grab a cab."
Carl hadn’t stopped talking since they left the club. A heady buzz had taken over for the barrage of thoughts he waded through all night and pushed aside. When the cab came to a stop, Dan took in the neighborhood. Brooklyn, clearly, but not the borough he remembered. A huge former industrial building wore a coat of flat dark grey paint with bright white accents anywhere there weren’t bricks. The old freight elevator had safety railing installed. A young tenant stood in the lobby sharply dressed, immersed in his phone’s screen. Metal grinding followed by a clank replaced the ding of an office elevator to tell them they were at the top floor. There were no other doors in sight.
“You live here?”
“Yeah. I bought it in the ‘90s. Got a great deal due to a few connections with the construction company,” he winked at Dan and took the chance to brag at Dan’s first words since they left Manhattan.
“Lucky bastard.”
“People weren’t exactly lining up to buy back then. They were scared to live around here. I didn’t have any security concerns.” A shoulder shrug went along with his turn inside the front door. Dan kicked his shoes off out of habit.
Somewhere between Abby asking him about it non stop during and after Carl's many recent appearances at the courthouse and dodging Julianne's angry glares, he'd broken down and accepted an invitation for an actual date. The rationalization being he had kind of agreed to give Carl a chance. It took longer than he wanted to admit to find a casual outfit that would be comfortable and stylish. And the previous twenty four hours had been nerve filled about anything related to their night out. He took it as a good sign.
The feeling bubbled all night. Building on itself. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't interested. Wanting to dive back in head first. It was the touches that had him the most off balance. Incidental contact fed the small ember in him. He'd turned down other invitations. But he never tired of having someone's full attention.
He wanted to kiss him out on the dance floor to test the waters in the dark private world between them during a slow jam. Last second hesitation caused him to trip over his own foot. Carl's hands squeezed both of his, right before he kept him from toppling over.
Thoughts circled back to both of the people he loved. His own voice reminded him this couldn't be the same. Which he knew. Faced with a simple choice however, he'd never pick being alone again.
When he looked up, Carl was halfway across a living room that could have contained Dan’s entire apartment with the addition of a massive walk in closet. Dan followed, leaving his jacket on the couch. All of the flat surfaces had at least one lamp. Soft circles of light broke up the large space into little inviting areas. He dropped his sweater first. Followed by his undershirt.
Carl continued ahead oblivious to the strip tease going on behind him. “Let me wash my hands. I’ll get us something to drink."
“Later,” Dan snuck both arms around Carl’s waist. Finally the tracksuit revealed a pro to counteract the long and winding list of cons. He pushed the pants off him without any buttons or zippers or buckles complicating things. Carl’s eyes held a question when he spun around to face him. Red bikini briefs with thick white seams took Dan back to countless nights long ago.
“You like those, big dog?” Carl asked, working hard to pay attention since he grabbed hold of Dan’s sides unable to resist the opportunity.
Dan wet his lower lip still zeroed in, “Like ‘em on you.” His gaze raised at the pace of the elevator outside. Carl’s hands had shifted him into top gear. “Gonna love them in my teeth.”
Carl's nose smashed into Dan's when they tilted their heads the same direction. His glasses askew in the aftermath. Carl deposited them on a hallway table. The familiar rush hit him when their lips found each other again. Where every moment reminded him the next second wasn't guaranteed. A high he could never recreate any other way. Carl's hand sliding through his hair turned into a pull when Carl adjusted to get a better taste. They broke apart panting, staring as their matching smiles surfaced.
“Let's get comfortable then.” He guided Dan to the bedroom by his belt buckle.
Knuckles dug into the underside of his belly. Sarah had assured him repeatedly during its entire existence that she loved it. Now he wondered if Carl liked trim bodies. Trimmer than him at least.
Carl sat at the edge of the bed. His other hand joined the one already on Dan’s belt. He undid everything looking up at Dan the whole time. “You're so tall.”
A quick survey of the room gave Dan a set of options. He kicked free of his pants, choice made. “Throw me one of those pillows.” Carl arched back, grabbed the pillow and returned to a prone position like a solo synchronized swimmer. Dan dropped it on the floor to take a knee. “One more.”
They were almost the same height on his knees. Duel lunges met in the middle. Carl cooperated with Dan to get his pants off in between a series of kisses that traded off who started them. Carl bent him back taking over with the advantage of higher ground, fingers tangling in the hair just behind Dan’s ears. Dan finished freeing him from his underwear, forgoing using his teeth this time.
Dan pulled away to let Carl know there was a shot clock ticking. “I used to be able to do this all night.” Thrilled by how red Carl’s lips were already.
Carl released him. “Right. Right.”
Dan shifted for a better spot. He would not rush this part, no matter how painful his knee got. A deep breath centered him. Thick hair under his palms. The smell of sweat. He’d missed the all consuming heat that only existed between someone’s legs. Intense but escapeable with a small movement of a few inches left or right. Velvet covered thick steel heavy in his hand.
He'd work quick through his greatest hits to make up for the lack of foreplay. That first taste always made him twitch, all the others built the hunger to its full intensity. The lie he told himself that he didn’t need this anymore rocketed to the number one position in his own personal top ten of delusions. He smirked at Carl’s loud gasp when he swallowed all of him. Lost in the sounds. Slurps and sighs, pushing and pulling each other along. He wanted this, wanted Carl to feel good because of him. Short licks and tiny kisses made Carl moan. Deep throating made him babble.
Buffed nails scratched at Dan’s hands glued to Carl's thighs. Dan didn't touch himself, he wanted to last as long as possible. Carl warned him with a finger crushing grip that made Dan gasp around him. He took all of it. And continued to lick the underside of Carl’s cock until he tapped out on the mattress.
The desire to taste Carl's thighs burned. He wanted to bury his nose back deep in the dark hair between his legs. It lost out to the shooting pain in his knees. Only after the warm up of a few hours of on and off dancing was any of this possible.
Carl was in the middle of a long litany of saint’s names recited at his ceiling.
He pulled up next to Carl on the bed with the last bit of athleticism he had left. He stared at the ceiling fan far above them, the breeze felt in the living room no longer had him questioning exactly how drunk he was. The pillowcases smelled like sunshine, the way his sheets smelled back in Paris where Mama hung everything out to dry on the line behind the house. A pounding heart the only part of him in motion. The amount of deep breaths he needed to get back to normal was not encouraging. A mental date with the elliptical in his building's gym was penciled in for the coming week.
“I need to see all of you.” Carl had recovered enough to pull at Dan’s boxer briefs. Negotiating the final part over his toes, he saw the wet spot, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
Dan failed to help lift his own legs. “Touch me, please.” It had been forever since anyone else had been this close to him. Not knowing where or when the contact would be had him flashing back to his only girlfriend in college and their embarrassingly brief first time.
“Not a problem.” Carl sat back on his heels, surveying the man next to him. “No wonder confidence was never an issue for you.”
Lips and fingers and palms wandered across his skin. Carl covered his stomach with open mouth kisses strung together with swipes of his tongue. The relief flowed over him, like a parched field being soaked in steady rain. He held his lips shut not wanting to share any of it, not a sound would escape until it couldn't get any better.
“Get up here,” he ordered with a long crooked finger. Carl was back by his side in no time flat. His thumb circled the muscle in the shoulder closest to him. They went back to making out by silent agreement. Carl on top, pressed against him, locked together in delicious warmth that only increased with time.
Carl’s lips slid up his neck while a callused hand surrounded his cock. Stuttering breaths left Dan in half remembered morse code. His hand reached for Carl’s to guide him to what he needed. Releasing before a final thrust. A light squeeze until he was through.
"God, that was hot." Carl whispered. "The way you growled." His sticky fingertips mapped the horizon of Dan's thigh, then moved up to tease one nipple before his mouth went to work. Ice slipped through his veins from the point of contact to the edges of him. Dan closed his eyes lost in the sensation, fighting to hold onto the clarity pleasure had always provided. They laid side by side. The air moved by the fan cooling their skin when they finally separated.
His mind flipped through the thick playbook he had memorized as a younger man. "I used to last much longer." None of the pages were relevant.
"We all did." Carl bit down on his collarbone, then licked to sooth the spot. "You were so hard and wet for me."
He was done. The fantasy that he could return to playing shape for a new partner, over. "I was so good at all of this."
"You are being way too hard on yourself. We're not keeping score." Carl gave him space but kept touching him, unwilling to let go of what they were in the middle of.
"I took my time. Got to know exactly what you liked."
"We can still do that."
He had to adjust both shoulders to be able to see Carl. "I couldn't wait any longer."
Dan sounded like he was apologizing, which made no sense to Carl. "I have no complaints. You never need to rush for me."
"My knees would say differently." Dan rubbed at his temples.
"Then we'll adjust our approach. So your knees are as happy as the rest of you." Carl shifted closer.
He licked at the shell of Dan's ear and into his mouth when it opened in response. Still hungry for the kisses abandoned when Dan went down on him. He refused to let Dan pull away. Pinning one wrist and then the other on either side of his head. Carl was hard again against Dan's hip. The moan that shook out of Dan the only permission he needed to continue tasting him.
"Mmm, so you aren't feeding me a line." Dan's fingers brushed his lips slightly dazed.
"No lines in bed. The whole truth and nothing but the," Carl straddled his thigh and sighed the final word slowly, "truth."
He scanned Carl slowly, "Take whatever you need."
"Next time we go 69." Mischievous eyes met Dan's grin. "Much more comfortable for us old pros."
"Next time," he growled and pulled Carl on top of himself.
Carl asked, trying to catch his breath. "Please tell me you want to do this again."
"Yes."
"Soon?"
"30 years ago I'd already have you screaming my name even louder than the first time."
"I can wait. I'm gonna dream about that golden tongue until then."
"The term you're thinking of is silver tongue."
"No way, there is no way that tongue ever came in second place. Gold medal or go home." Carl sighed into Dan's shoulder.
Dan stiffled a small chuckle. "Can I quote you on that?"
Bright eyes locked on Dan. "You can do whatever you want."
"What a good answer."
Carl whispered next to his ear. "You distracted me before. I'd like to get back to what I was doing."
"Please do." Dan grabbed a handful of ass and nodded.
Carl buried his head in Dan's chest as he moved. “How are you hotter than you were back then?” The whole question took time to get out.
"I've been saving myself for you." Dan spoke softly into the top of Carl's sweat soaked hair.
Carl pleaded for unwanted mercy, "Dan."
He felt wet spots fall on his stomach as Carl went quiet holding his breath. He pushed Carl's shoulder back to reveal the view he wanted, "Let me see how much you want me."
Spit fell when Carl's lips parted. "I jerked off to you all the time, for years. I always wanted you." His fist tight around himself, picking up speed.
"Here I am." This he could do. He waited through several ragged breaths directly in front of him. Watched nothing but Carl's concentration etch lines across his face. His skin the color of a thermometer about to pop. "Just for you."
Carl planted his left hand deep in the pillow beside Dan's head. "Oh, mother of…I..," he whined with jerking hips. His top half arched back as he came all over Dan before he collapsed.
“You OK?” Dan looked down at him with the beginning of concern, strumming along his ribs on the side of his chest. Carl cracked his eyes open with no idea he'd been out for going on a good 20 minutes at this point.
White hair hung in a drape over one of Dan's eyes. Carl pushed it out of the way. "Hey gorgeous."
"Hello handsome."
All goofy smile and cherry red cheeks, Carl tried to explain, "Thank you for that, it…it's…"
Dan's arm rested on his chest. “It's been awhile?”
“Yeah. Let me get you cleaned up. Stay right there.” Carl was already on his feet with a bounce to his step. Dan voice cracked when he tried to speak. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to.
Carl dropped Dan's glasses on the nightstand. The washcloth was warm. "I don't know about you, but I think I could sleep well into next week." He apologized as he wiped. ”I didn’t plan ahead. I should have done that.”
Dan took the cloth when he was done and dropped it to the floor. "It's fine."
Her heartbeat soothed the minor pains of the day endured. Cheek above her breast on her left side so she could touch him gently wherever she wanted. On Harry's right for the same reasons. Fingers stroked through his hair slowly. So warm he could fall asleep and wake to Harry singing to himself. They stayed. Years of lying next to someone, falling asleep and waking up together. Other small things he could recreate at will but he wasn't interested. Because it always ended the same. More aware of what was missing.
Being alone in a strange bed dragged him directly down into a limitless depth, without any of his beacons to guide him back up. No light at all in the deepest part of the dark that threatened to swallow him. The surface moved further away with each stroke he managed. Everything distorted around him. He tried to focus on the weight rack he remembered in the far corner. There was no dust on any of the bars. It was solid. He could hold on to it. It would hold him.
He woke in the dark with a loud gasp. Unsure where he was. Pressure began at the center of his chest. Ribs tight when he tried to breathe. Lungs burned with the effort. A weird taste on the back of his tongue, poisoning every breath he managed. Gnawing pain in his stomach. It had been years since an attack. The unwelcome return left him exposed with nowhere to hide.
He heard the flush, the sink and click of the bathroom light switch. Carl was in the hallway on the way back. His skin prickled from a cold that made him shake. His palms were damp. He cursed at himself for being ridiculous, knowing there wasn't enough time to recover. He wiped his hands in the sheet to dry them. Carl's return made Dan's eyes burn with embarrassment, heavy and wet.
Carl climbed into bed without a pause. "Lets get back to where we were," he pulled the comforter up over both of them . "Hey, it's OK." He shimmied close to wrap his arms around Dan, taking on some of the shaking. "You're OK. We're alright." He repeated the reassurance in a soft whisper.
It took forever to get back up through the water above him. Patient progress with careful breathing. When he was sure it had passed, Dan laid still, pressed into Carl's chest. Safe in the sacred spot between them where no one else was allowed. "Don't go anywhere."
"Not part of my plan at all. We'll stay right here." He kissed his cheek. "We're good."
The work to banish the thoughts was having the opposite effect. Dan chewed at his thumb, waiting to be told to stop or to hear Carl snoring. "I need my brain to stop so I can sleep."
"What helps?"
"Sex used to."
Carl freed both his arms and adjusted the hold he had on Dan. "But not anymore."
"I haven't found anything to replace it."
"We can stay here as long as it takes."
Dan took him at his word and tried to move on in the quiet. In the past there was too much he hoped stayed buried.
"I lied."
"About?"
"They quieted my mind."
"Sarah and Harry."
"I found a peace with them I didn't know was possible. I was happy."
"I get that, it makes perfect sense."
"Settling down worked for me."
"You figured out what you wanted. That tends to make things much easier."
"Do you know what you want?"
"I like a man whose been through tough times and made it out the other side. Someone with a hundred different imperfections. All of them proof of a life lived."
Dan snorted. "Boy, have you hit the jackpot. Hundreds seems low."
"I know. Me too." The corners of his mouth curled up. "I've known since you showed me those hips. I saw that jiggle. I knew there was life left in you."
"That's one of my favorite suits." Dan laughed into Carl's side.
"Mine too." Carl kissed his cheek. He paused to take all of Dan in. "How long has it been since you went on a date?"
Dan's hand scraped down his face. "17 years, give or take a few hundred days."
"Its a whole new world. You don't even have to buy someone a drink anymore. There's an app for that now."
"I've heard. It doesn't sound like a good replacement. Seems kind of sterile, there's no art to it."
"I mean, you can type out your pickup lines but then they know you're old. Usually you confirm what you both want and where you can meet and boom, your date is set."
"Efficient."
"Very."
"I was born at the wrong time. Think of all the money I could have saved." Dan couldn't avoid pondering the possibilities. A simple distraction that gave him a bit of distance and more breathing room.
Carl asked after a long stretch of silence, "Am I the first person you've been with since you lost Sarah?"
Dan started to answer several times, mouth open, full eye contact, he closed in on himself before he said, "Yes."
"Want to know what I did?" Carl adjusted the blanket for Dan. "I was so lonely I figured out how to use one of those dating apps. I got a hotel room because I couldn't meet him here. Gorgeous guy looking for sex, nothing more. He was exactly what I thought I needed. He knocked on the door. I couldn't open it. I lied through my teeth. Said I had a stomach flu. We wished each other good night through the door. I didn't try again for a year."
Carl's thick arm hair matched his thighs. Dan studied it, still not ready to look at him. "Did you ever meet anyone?"
"A few guys. Kids really. You know how it is in your late 20s. All the things the young guys try so hard to avoid is exactly what I'm looking for. None of them were ready for what I wanted."
"Maybe they were but you didn't give them a chance."
"Nothing was wrong with them. They were still figuring things out. I have a lot to give, but I don't have enough time for them." Carl pulled Dan closer. "I live by the campsite rule when dating someone younger." He saw the nose scrunch, the question he wasn't asking. "I leave them in better shape than I found them."
"Did you?"
"Yeah. We keep in touch. Plus I can make a few phone calls and have 3 guys here in less than an hour to help me move anything heavier than a toaster."
"That's helpful."
"As Mini-fridge Marco says, 'that's what friends are for.'"
"Is that a name I want the backstory on?" Dan asked, knowing it tended to be a 50/50 question if a name was terrifying or mundane.
"His brand new fancy apartment only had a Mini-fridge. He never lived it down." Carl laughed as he rubbed his fists into his eyes.
"I tried baking sourdough during the shutdown."
"That's a hell of a substitution to attempt."
"It was not successful." Dan confessed and rested his head on Carl's shoulder.
Carl ran his thumb along Dan's jawline. "You don't strike me as a baker." He reached over Dan to grab something on the nightstand. When he settled back there was soft instrumental music playing.
Dan drifted off, aware of himself being rusted in place. "Any rules about dating someone older?"
"Hasn't happened." Carl smiled. "Yet."
His eyelids felt beyond heavy from the inked black of dreamless sleep. A dull ache in his knees reinforced the fact he was awake. The yawn made him stretch all of himself. Aware of the real weight of each muscle and bone contained beneath his skin. Momentarily unsure if he'd ever be able to coordinate all of it and escape the hold the bed had on him.
"Morning," Carl turned and bumped into Dan's shoulder. Of course Carl was a morning person.
Dan grunted at the contact, let it linger before acknowledging. Despite a brief run as a 9-5 office person he wound up back on his night shift clock in retirement.
A new face greeted him. Nice eyes. Roman nose. Full lips. "Morning." The roof of his mouth was dry.
The smile already there brightened. Quick kisses hit the side of his face. Careful not to inflict morning breath on his guest. "I missed this." His hand stretched wide across Dan's chest. "Don't get me wrong. I love the rest of it too."
Guys never did this. Harry did. But Harry wasn't a guy. "Yeah." Harry was his guy.
"I have to ask," Carl said with a smirk. Dan swallowed too aware of how tight his throat was. The dreaded discussion would begin with a slide of fingers down to his chin. "Scrambled or omelette?"
Dan squeezed his eyes shut but blinked once he was able to comprehend. "Scrambled?"
"Ah, see I thought for sure you'd be an omelette guy." Carl pushed his top half up to stretch. "I'm gonna go get breakfast started. The bathroom is to the right outside the door. If there anything you need that you can't find let me know. Alright?"
Dan shook his head and watched Carl leave, sure he was going to turn around and ask what the hell happened last night.
Books were piled in each bookshelf. In neat piles in a couple of spots on the wood floor too. Music fell out of ceiling mounted speakers at spaced intervals. It bumped louder as he walked around the living room. Notes mingled with the random sounds of an occupied kitchen. The mix was good. Dan hummed unaware in a white fluffy robe that ended at his knees.
A color picture of Tony and Christine stood out surrounded by the black and white snapshots of other family members.
"Wait." Dan looked hard at the picture and spun halfway around to stare at Carl in detail. "You knew Christine? And Tony?"
"You could say that."
Dan shifted his weight indignantly, "I am saying that."
"Step brother. We share a mother."
Dan looked to the ceiling. He would never escape the black hole like gravity field the courthouse held over his life. "Of course."
Carl shrugged on the way into the living room.
A golden frame caught his eye next. The faded prayer card crooked in the bottom corner an additional footnote spelling out how important the person was. He touched the bent corner as he looked. Vincent was cute. Not as cute as Harry but boyish even with the hints of grey in his hair and goatee. The second date listed was 2021. Which seemed like yesterday until his brain reminded him it was more than 2 years ago.
"He survived everything only to wind up with run of the mill lung cancer. Condoms and safe sex with a cigarette chaser every time." Carl opened a small drawer and took out a stack of cards. "Vincent went to the funerals. Until he couldn’t take it any more. There were too many. We sent flowers for all our friends. And cash to whatever organizations helped them at the end."
Dan swallowed. His plan of action involved more gloves and condoms in his briefcase and swearing off men until it was safe with a tightly curated list of exceptions to be made when lust overrode his airtight logic.
"Do you remember your first test?" Dan asked, his eyes on the rubber banded stack in Carl's fingers.
Carl's eyes darted up to meet Dan's. "The longest 2 weeks of my life."
"Yeah." He tucked Vincent's card back to the proper spot. "I went to donate blood not long after I got to NYC. I needed a few bucks to make it to my next paycheck. I'm sitting there and the nurse came in and said I couldn't donate. I asked her why and she looked around and pointed to where I said I was bi on the intake sheet and then to the GRID poster on the wall behind me. She wouldn't talk to me anymore, just herded me to the front door to get me out to the street."
"It wasn’t personal. She was scared."
Sarah was too young. Harry knew but they never discussed it. They survived. Their life together a protest of being in the midst of a plague. "It felt personal."
"We knew nothing. Those doctors and nurses were seeing hundreds of us a week. They barely knew more than we did."
"Their bedside manner should have been much better then."
"They did the best they could. We all did." They stood side by side for a long moment. Carl's threw his arm around Dan's shoulder with his invitation. "Come on, I made you an espresso."
Dan took the tiny cup on the saucer and adjusted his expectations. It was pretty damn good.
“My friend showed me how to set up Spotify. So I can listen to music when I’m here. Nice kid. He delivered my pizza.” Carl explained, cleaning his hands with a kitchen towel. Dan raised a single eyebrow high. “Nothing like that. He was here most Fridays. The Devils game was on too loud and he heard the goal song. We high-fived each other. It's a bond. You know, for good luck. I invited him to watch the rest of the game. He came back after his shift. We watched games together. You have no idea how rare it is to find a Devils fan in Brooklyn. And when the Islanders came to town.” Carl pursed his lips and made them flap. “Every hipster for the next 12 blocks suddenly had a Gorton’s fisherman jersey on.”
Dan had no idea what keywords in the final sentence meant but he got the gist of it. "I see."
Carl used the towel to bat away something Dan couldn't see from the chair at the table. He waved his arm inviting Dan to take the seat. “Are you a football fan?”
"For years I said I was a Jets fan." he pushed a long curl behind Carl’s ear before he sat.
"The Jets?"
"I needed a NY team." Dan felt the need to clarify his position considering Carl's tone. “Sarah dragged my Saints fandom into the light.”
”So you picked the Jets back in the ‘80s? I mean, if you didn’t care, the Giants were right there.”
“Story of my life. I can’t pick a winner even if there is only one choice."
"The Saints, huh. That tells me you are a football fan."
“Mostly. I like basketball. Sarah and Harry were Knicks fans. I got sucked in before I knew the misery I was taking on voluntarily.”
"Not the Jazz?"
Dan held a warning hand up, "Do not get me started on the absurdity of the Utah Jazz."
"I hear you. My grandmother never forgave the Dodgers for leaving."
"LA Dodgers is as absurd as the LA Lakers. There are no street cars or lakes in LA, that city's entire sports empire is built on lies."
“I only pay attention to basketball during the playoffs. The Knicks haven’t won in a long time, right?”
“1973.”
Carl pondered for a moment. “They're due.”
"That's one way of putting it," Dan stirred as too many failed playoff runs flashed before his eyes. Harry trudging off to bed without a word, hopes crushed yet again. "They are eternally doomed to failure, would be another."
"But the wait makes it even better when it happens."
"I guess. At least I've seen the Yankees win something." His heart wasn't in baseball. Something about picking the Yankees and watching the Mets win the World Series the very next year soured him on the game in general.
"If you don't mind me saying, it doesn't sound like baseball is your favorite."
"Not really. It helps pass the dog days of summer when it is too hot to move. Sitting on the couch and drinking beer at noon is socially acceptable if there's a game on."
"So Yankees kinda, the Saints, and the Knickerbockers. No hockey team though. You've got the Islanders, Rangers, and Devils and technically Buffalo but I wouldn't recommend Sabres fandom to anyone I care about."
"Are they worse than the Bills?"
"That is a loaded question, but losing four straight Super Bowls has to edge out 2 losses in the finals over 50 years."
"How close together were the Finals losses?"
"Decades apart."
"They've never won?"
"Nope."
“Sounds like they would fit in perfectly on my roster of teams.”
“I feel bad asking, but we could go to a Devils game, if you want. I can get us a suite. I still have friends in Newark.”
”Why do you feel bad?”
“The Devils without Brodeur,” he shook his head solemnly, “It’s going to be awhile before they get a shot at another cup.”
Dan stopped. “What happened to your friend? Why aren’t you taking him?”
“He finished up his associates. Aaron’s at Syracuse now.”
"Aren't you a NYC boy? Why are you a Devils fan?"
"I never watched hockey but when they came to town I went to a game. I liked the idea of getting in at the very beginning. I couldn't be an Islanders fan, they were a juggernaut at the time. They won 4 straight cups. I'm not a front runner."
"And the Rangers…" Dan trailed off on purpose.
"An associate was a huge fan. We did not get along." Carl's words were suddenly clipped. "And when they beat the Devils in the '94 conference finals, he was very rude about it."
"I'm trying to imagine someone being a big enough asshole to get on your shit list."
Carl wore a smile with some malice behind it. It looked good on him. "The Rags haven't won anything since 1994. The Devils won in '95. And two more on top of that. That made everything OK."
Dan was going to object but 2010 came back to him. The Saints won the Super Bowl. A sentence, that up to that point in the universe, was so absurd it could only be said out loud followed by a boisterous dismissive laugh. He sat on a couch dumbfounded attempting to understand how his team had actually won the last game of the season. The team whose fans who wore paper bags over their heads at the Superdome to avoid being identified. In the unending run of dismal regular seasons, he and his father always turned off the game at halftime knowing it was over and filled their Sunday with all the worst chores that still had to be done.
Mama sent him a bootleg Super Bowl Champions t-shirt with Drew Brees decked out as a Mardi Gras king a week after the team had their parade down Bourbon St. It was still in his closet. A physical reminder of the pure joy delivered by a stupid game and a stupid team that had provided nothing but misery for more than four decades of his life.
"What you said, the suffering makes it better, is true. I never thought of it that way." A self conscious cough preceded his caveat, "at least not about sports."
Dan ate. Carl was back and forth into the kitchen non stop.
Dan asked with his empty plate in hand at the sink. "What do you do to fill up time?"
"I cook." He smiled wide. "It's way healthier. I have decades of eating fast food in the middle of the night to counter act." He disappeared behind the corner. "Also yoga." Came from the far side of the kitchen.
"Yoga." Dan snorted.
"Yoga is great. It's good for your hips and back. There's some socializing before and after class."
"So I need a yoga mat."
"You should get one. I'll show you some moves. It's also good for quieting the mind"
"Yoga." Dan repeated distractedly. He rubbed his gnawed on thumbnail with another finger. "How did you know?"
Carl set a timer on the counter. His head tilted when he looked at Dan.
His finger pushed along the line in the marble countertop, "Last night."
"Oh." Carl watched him. "My best friend growing up had panic attacks. She never wanted to talk about them afterwards. Do you need to?"
"No." The denial jumped out of Dan's mouth. It made him look directly at Carl before he was ready. "No, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me get through it."
"Of course." He chucked a fist into Dan's shoulder. The shrill beep of the oven's preheat cycle went off. Carl suited up with oven mitts on both hands to juggle the cookie sheet off the rack already in the oven and the one prepped to go in next. "Put this on the cooling rack." Dan grabbed a nearby towel and did as he was told. Exchange completed, Carl stood all the way up. "Senior centers are great too."
A giggle snuck out of Dan, his fingers pulling on the top of the doorway into the kitchen.
Carl looked over his shoulder, "There it is. That smile. I saw it years ago. I never forgot it."
"You're a funny guy. A great ass never hurt either." Yoga couldn't be all bad, if that was the result.
"The ladies at the senior center love me."
The pajama pants were tied tight at his waist. Hair dusted all of his chest and forearms. "I bet. You're a dancer and you cook." He was going to get this man into tailored clothes.
"Ten women for every man there and I'm not competition. 20 to 1."
"Somewhere in the distant past there is a version of me drooling over odds like that." He was going to buy him lots of flowers too. "These days the only thing I have in common with a 70 year old woman is our cholesterol count." Dan saw the microwave clock a few times before the readout made an impact. "I, uh, actually have to go."
"Where?" Carl chomped on a cold piece of toast.
"It's an Abby thing." His coat hung by the front door.
The 'World's Best Uncle' mug clicked on the counter. "Oh, something official."
"Technically, yes." He cursed at himself for not spitting it out. He was not lying. And it dawned on him suddenly that Abby would realize he was wearing the same clothes as she saw him in last night.
"You don't have to tell me." Carl sure had that subtle pout thing down just like Sarah and Harry did.
Dan sighed with a pull of his hair. "I'm acting as the judge for the Library Art Show. Flobert had to resign in disgrace after a bribery scandal broke out." Dan held his hand up to stop Carl before he asked the question he had. "When it comes to Abby I ask the bare minimum of clarifying questions. More questions only makes it worse." He stopped. Then began again. "This rule also applies to Flobert."
Carl used his toast to emphasize his followup question. "Why isn't Abby the judge."
"Because she is in the show."
Carl nodded, "And if you don't pick her as the winner..."
"She'll be furious, but in that Abby way where she puts on the aggressively happy I'm not mad face and won't shut up about how not mad she is. Just like her father." He never would have agreed to it in his right mind, but she struck early in their shift yesterday when his first date in almost two decades took up all of his brainpower.
"Want me to go run some undercover intel gathering? I can find out which one is hers."
"You don't want to be involved in this, if you don't have to be."
"I mean, I kind of am."
It was tempting. But he thought of not having a safe space to retreat to if everything went the worse possible way this afternoon. Dan took a stride forward to grab hold of Carl and deliver a long sloppy kiss. "No, I'll take care of it. But thank you for the offer."
Carl beamed back at him. "Go get dressed. I'll call you a cab and ice Gladys' cinnamon rolls to keep things civil." Carl raised his hand to stop Dan this time. "These rolls were the only thing that kept a turf war from breaking out between the Staten Island and Queens crews in 2025. Trust me, they'll come in handy."