Brothers by Bond (9 page)

He should have never shaved him. It was too intimate for his best friend not to have noticed or maybe this was the 'care to explain that erection that was stabbing me in the shower' conversation. Mike forced his body to relax even though his gut was in knots and his mind was scrambling for excuses.

"When are you gonna tell me what the hell was wrong with you before I got shot?" Mike could feel Johnny's eyes boring into him as he steadfastly stared at the TV.

Relief that his brother wasn't calling him out on the scene in the shower, or the shaving, flooded through him until he realized he still had no answer for Johnny.

I think I am gay and want you. Yeah, so not going there.

It took everything Mike had to turn and meet his best friend's gaze. Johnny wasn't grinning but instead looked deadly serious with an intensity in his eyes that Mike had only seen directed at suspects.

"What are you talking about?" Mike gave his brother a grin but didn't think for a moment that he was buying whatever Mike was selling.
What was he selling? Oh yeah, that nothing had changed between them.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Johnny's gaze grew more intense, if that were even possible, and Mike couldn't maintain eye contact.

Classic guilty body language there Mike. Way to go.

"I just had some shit to sort through," Mike said lamely but didn't turn back around.

"Shit to sort through?" Johnny huffed. "Shit that had to do with me?" Mike involuntarily tensed but before he could contradict, no, outright lie, Johnny continued. "What did I do, Mikey?"

Made me want you for more than a friend and a brother. How fucked up is that?

"Tell me what I did that pissed you off enough to shut me out?" Johnnie's voice was getting louder.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything." Mike replied and thought,
it's not you
,
it's me
. Now he knew the truth of that line.

"Dammit Mike," Johnny continued and Mike almost flinched. His best friend never used his proper name but instead always called him 'Mikey' or 'M&M.' "Since when do we start keeping secrets from one another?" The anger and hurt in his brother's voice was almost a tangible thing hanging in the air between them.

Since I get hard thinking about you. Since you're the only person I think about when I jerk off anymore.

"We don't," Mike lied and tried to be angry at his best friend for forcing the issue.

"Could've fooled the shit out of me," Johnny said harshly. "If it isn't me then what? Whatever it is we can figure it out together." Johnny reigned in his temper and placed a hand on Mike's back. Every muscle in Mike's body tensed at that touch and he hated that he had no control over how his body now reacted to his best friend. "Talk to me, bro," Johnny practically pleaded.

Talk about how I want you naked in my bed? How I want to run my mouth all over you? I don't think so!

"I don't want to talk about it." Mike shrugged off Johnny's hand and stood. He gathered their breakfast plates without looking at his brother. "I'm fine. We're fine."

Mike stormed from the room and Johnny's voice followed him. "I'm calling bullshit. I've known you too long Mike and I know you're not fine."

Mike never dealt well with being cornered in his anger finally ignited as he started rinsing the dishes. He could hear the click clack of the walker as Johnny followed him into the kitchen.

"Fucking talk to me, bro," Johnny practically yelled at him.

"God dammit, John, There. Is. Nothing. To. Talk. About." Mike retorted and only paused long enough to see his best friends eyes grow wide. It dawned on Mike that this was the first time he had ever called his brother by his actual name. Somehow over the last seventeen years that they have known one another neither of them actually called the other by their given name.
Fuck!

"I need to do some shopping," Mike said.
I
need to get away from you
. "I'll be back later." Mike didn't wait for a reply as he bee lined for the door and if his best friend gave him one, he didn't hear it.

***

Mike drove, and drove, and drove. He had no destination in mind. How could he tell Johnny that he thought he was gay? His brother would think it was a joke at best. At the worst, he would lose his best friend and then what would he do? He knew Johnny wouldn't believe him even if he told him the truth. Johnny would point out all the women Mike had taken the bed, hell, even the women they had shared, just to prove his point. That thought gave Mike pause. In his head he could hear Johnny arguing the point.

"No gay guy would have fucked as many chicks as you have, bro."

Mike knew there was logic in that argument but it didn't change how hard he got just thinking about his best friend. If he wasn't gay, then what? He just had a hard on, literally, for his brother?

Dammit
! If Johnny hadn't been staying at his place then maybe he could find the answer online. Mike laughed. Yeah, he would just look up areyougay.com or maybe he could look up gay porn.
Fuck, I need a drink.

Mike looked at his watch and realized he had been driving around randomly for the last two hours. He gave thought to where to go for happy hour when an idea struck him. If he couldn't get online to see if he was really gay then maybe he could check out a gay bar. It was just after two in the afternoon but he was sure there had to be one open somewhere in the city.

Mike pulled out his phone and did a search.
Holy Shit!
The city had fifty-three gay bars. Who knew? Certainly not him. Mike scanned the list of the bars and discarded several based on their name alone. He also didn't want to go to a bar in the precinct that he usually worked. Wouldn't that just be great to get a call to a gay bar were someone might remember him or even worse, be in the bar if his coworkers were called there.

Finally, he settled for a bar about twenty minutes away from him. When Mike pulled into the lot, he was slightly surprised at the number of cars that were there for it being so early in the day. As he parked he had a moment of trepidation about going inside. He was a cop for Christ's sake and faced situations a lot more dangerous than entering a gay bar. So why did he feel like butterflies were trying to escape his stomach?

Fuck it
. Mike slammed his truck door harder than he had intended and headed for the door with all the concentration of the SWAT team on a raid.

The inside of the bar was dark and Jimmy Buffett greeted him from the jukebox as he waited for his eyes to adjust. When they did, Mike looked around as he made his way to the bar. His police training took in everything in one glance. Men between the ages of twenty-five and sixty sat around the bar, alone or in small groups.
They don't all look gay
was the first thought he had and then was ashamed he was stereotyping the group.

"I'm Rob," the bartender introduced himself. "Welcome to the Jungle. What can I get you?" The guy looked young, barely twenty-one, but Mike had a feeling he was likely older even if he didn't look it.

"Bud Light," Mike replied and tried not to look around the bar again.

"Bottle or draft? Bottles are two-for-one and the drafts are a buck," Rob the bartender told him.

"Bottle will work," Mike pulled a ten from his pocket and put it on the bar in front of him before he sat down.

He watched the bartender retrieve his beer and couldn't help the stereotypical thought that filtered across his mind.
He looks like any other bartender
. Rob wore jeans that weren't super tight, but did hang down low on his hips, and a muscle shirt with the bar logo on it. He wasn't very feminine nor very masculine and Mike had to admit that if he had met the guy outside the bar, he would have no idea he was gay.

"Here you go," Rob said as he set the bottle in front of him along with the poker chip. Mike slid at ten across the bar and picked up the chip to examine it. One side said the Jungle while the other said one bottled beer.

"New in town?" Rob asked when he returned with the change.

Mike wasn't sure if the question was innocent or a come on. How do guys pick each other up?

Mike studied the patrons as he sipped his beer. Aside from the lack of women, this could be any other bar in the city. These were just regular guys enjoying happy hour.
What did you expect? A gay fuck fest?

Mike was suddenly disgusted with himself for his assumptions. Since everything he had assumed about gay guys seemed to be shattered, he tried to analyze how he felt about the men in the bar. Some were attractive, he was comfortable enough with his masculinity to admit, but none excited him the way Johnny did. Even the guy on the corner of the bar, who was a blonde like his best friend, did nothing for him. Not even a cock twitch. So maybe he really wasn't gay?

Mike felt more confused now than he had before he entered the bar. He was taking the last swallow of his beer and about to use the chip for another when his phone buzzed.

"Holding hostages is a crime... Even if it is food."
The text read and Mike noted the time on his phone. He had been gone for almost four hours and he was sure this was Johnny's way of checking up on him

Mike thought about a reply as he left a tip and picked up his bills and the chip. He absently stuck everything in his pocket as he left the bar and replied to the text.

"Don't waste the negotiator's time. You won't starve. C U soon."

Mike drove home hoping that Johnny wouldn't resume pecking at him like a wife after a night out with the boys. Not like Mike would know anything about that except from what Johnny had shared about Susan's nagging.

He walked into the house and found the living room empty, again. Only he didn't panic this time nor call out. Mike heard noise from the kitchen and found Johnny standing in front of the stove, using his crutches instead of his walker. A pot of water was steaming on the stove and a jar of sauce was on the counter next to a box of pasta. Mike move toward the fridge with the intention of grabbing a beer, when he stopped short. On the far side Johnny an open Bud light sat on the counter.

"If you were drinking that while on your pain meds I'm going to kick your ass... hip replacement or not," Mike growled and frowned at his best friend.

"There's the Mikey I know and love," Johnny grinned at him and gave him a wink which made Mike's gut clenched again. When Mike continued to frown, Johnny plowed on, "It's for you, asshole. I figured you might want it." Johnny handed over the beer and poured the pasta into the water.

"Thanks," Mike took a long swig and continued to frown at his best friend.

"Damn bro, lighten up." Johnny acted as if the argument between them had never happened and for that, Mike was grateful. "I gave you a beer
and
I'm cooking you dinner. Sheeze."

"You're on the crutches again." Mike pointed out. "Don't make me hide them from you. Now go sit your invalid ass down before you fall down." And just like that they were back to normal, except for Mike still not knowing if he was gay or just infatuated with his best friend.

***

Three weeks passed and they fell into a routine. Mike switched from mid shifts to mornings and Johnny went to his physical therapy. Things were bizarrely domestic between them. Johnny was there when Mike left for work and he was home again when Mike finished his shift. The only thing that would have made them more domestic would've been if they were sharing the same bed. That wasn't about to happen and Mike's back was paying the price from sleeping on his sectional. If a sore back was the price to pay to keep his friendship, to keep his brother, then he counted himself lucky.

They had not showered again nor had Mike given Johnny another shave. Even though Mike was thankful that he wouldn't be caught with his guard down in those types of situations, he worried that his brother knew something was not right when they happened that first time.