By Any Other Name (5 page)

His hand shook the tiniest bit as he held the remote up to depress the button. But, with no one there to see, well it was kinda like eating chocolate before you went to the gym. As long as your ass didn’t get all gargantuan, you didn’t have to tell anyone. Gunning the engine just a teeny bit was okay too. After all, there wasn’t a single bit of James Blunt music in the car right now. Mostly because half-way home he’d had a very Sybil moment where he clawed it out of the cd changer and smashed the whole Back to Bedlam cd into too many tiny shards to count. Biting his bottom lip again, Andy ignored the little cut on his right hand in favor of getting out of the car. He needed to get to his computer and download the entire album from Amazon. Because seriously if ever there was a moment to wallow in the mental instability that was James Blunt’s iconic ode to unrequited love, this was it. Also, it really was not James Blunt’s fault that Michael was both hopelessly devoted to perfect, adorable Adrien, and a great lay. While Michael might be a little bi-curious, in the end he would rather have someone with a vagina as his life partner. Not that Andy was looking for a life partner.

He slammed out of the Nova and stomped his way over to the door from the garage into the kitchen. Once he got inside, he slammed the heavy wood door twice because the sound was so very satisfying. Eyeing the glassware as he hustled past, Andy entertained a full blown mini-movie in his head, where he smashed every single piece of stemware in the pretty hanging racks he’d installed last month. His ears itched to hear the sound of glass breaking over and over against the gorgeous glazed tiles of his kitchen floor. A single finger’s span from the first row where the martini glasses hung in sleek splendor under their recessed track lighting, he caught sight of the little Looney Tunes jelly jar glass Michael had given him. Bugs Bunny smirked at him from the shelf where Andy kept his most prized glasses. If he started with the martini glasses, it wouldn’t be long before he ripped open the glass fronted cupboards and smashed everything they held as well. Michael gave him the stupid glass the year Andy was placed with his first foster family. Drawing in a ragged breath, Andy snatched his hand back. He stood, locked in place with muscles shaking under his skin for several long moments. Then he reached forward as slowly as the IRS returning money they’d been overpaid. He opened the door with fingers that trembled, scooping out the grotty little jar and cradling it against his chest. Then he walked all the intervening steps to his bedroom as though the fate of the world depended on the precise, light placement of each toe within his shoes.

Crawling into bed, jacket, pants, shoes and all, Andy curled into the smallest ball he could. One hand continued to cradle the jelly jar to his chest while the other pulled the comforter up to press a spot that smelled like Michael up against his face. Andy pretended he wasn’t rocking himself slowly back and forth in the bed while a muted keening noise slipped up his raw throat and out from between the tightly clenched edges of his expensively capped teeth. The lack of control alone would be cripplingly embarrassing, and though Andreas Weiß had lived through the most humiliating experience of his life right in front of Michael, he would never be that pathetic again. He allowed himself an hour buried in Michael’s scent and the warmth of his own soft bed, and then Andreas Weiß got up from where he had lain. Setting aside the jelly jar, right up against the mirror in a well-defended spot at the back of his dresser, Andy stripped the bed methodically. He meticulously bundled up, carried through the house and finally placed each sheet, pillowcase, and lastly the duvet cover into the washer. Pouring in lavender scented laundry detergent like a benediction Andy paused to close his eyes. Blinking damp eyelashes open, he closed the lid and made his way back through the heavy silence of his house to start getting things ready for the long awaited costume party.

Opening the door to the outside, Devon paused to visibly sniff at the air. Michael sat right outside the front door, just like he’d promised. A stray ray of sun caught the hood of the Jeep, gleaming brightly and reflecting the late afternoon sunshine. Devon grinned, motioning for Michael to stay put behind the wheel. Michael snorted quietly to himself. As if he'd let Sergeant Soto get in the driver’s side of any vehicle when he was coming off being as rocky as he just was. Devon slipped into the passenger’s side, his face washed clean and a smile stretching his mouth wide.

Michael slanted a narrow eyed look at Devon. The dork grinned back at him with all the exuberance of a two month old chocolate lab. He actually bounced a bit in his seat as he started speaking.
“I fucked up, but I’m gonna make it right.

Michael frowned, shaking his head to clear his longish bangs away from his eyes. “Sarge, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Devon gave an anemic little laugh, which Michael refused to call a giggle. Former military men, especially ones who were six foot five with oodles of special training in take down tactics did not giggle. With one eyebrow creeping higher by the second, Michael eyed his former sergeant and held his silence.

Devon did not disappoint him, caving to the need to gossip about his relationship with Adrien in less than sixty seconds. He wiggled around in the passenger seat, his hands moving in vague half circle shapes as though he were trying to turn a steering wheel. Michael’s eyebrow hit the far limit of its upward mobility just as the words began to tumble from Devon’s mouth.

“I tried to make him stay in so he’d be safe, and he told me to fuck off. I got mad and shook him—just trying to shake some sense into him, you know? So, anyway—he’s a scrappy little thing. Knocked my hands right off him and told me to get the fuck out. Said if I wanted a chance with him I was to come to the party tonight, in costume, and be polite to him.”

Michael blinked at the lucky-to-still-bebreathing-idiot sitting next to him. Holy Christ on a pogo stick, the man was obviously watched over by legions of overworked angels. He wouldn’t even dare to pull that shit on his little brother Sammie—or as the twit had taken to calling himself (so as not to be confused with Adrien’s younger brother who was also named Sam)— David pronounce it Daaveed.

Devon tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly as he handed Michael another to go cup of sweet smelling cocoa and an old fashioned tin of cookies embossed with smiling snowmen on a navy blue background.

“Here, Mrs. Simpson said those are for you. What am I gonna do? I am going to find a costume for tonight, of course. He said come in costume, quote-because it’s a fucking costume Christmas party-end quote.”

Michael snorted. He took a sip of the cocoa, winced and gasped at the blisteringly hot feel of the cocoa flavored lava in his mouth before setting the cup cautiously in the driver’s side cup holder. Michael double checked that the lid was securely on before putting the Jeep into gear in preparation to pull out of the parking spot.

“Damn, that’s hot. Catherine Marie thinks everyone has an asbestos tongue like her… shit, my tongue is gonna fall off. Okay, yeah, the Twinks are throwing a costume party this year for Christmas. At their Halloween party Andy got a bee in his bonnet about how they should have more costume wearing fun during the rest of the year, and the whole Glitter Crew jumped on the bandwagon.”

Devon’s brow crinkled as he angled his torso more toward Michael’s side of the Jeep. “Glitter Crew?”

Michael shrugged, a half smile tipping up one side of his mouth as he eased the Jeep smoothly into first gear. “Eh, you know we were all part of the Gay-Straight Alliance group in our high school, right?”

Devon nodded, gesturing with his hand for Michael to continue. Michael rolled his eyes, pausing as he came to the mouth of the driveway. Paying close attention to the cars zipping up and down Genesee Street, he whipped the Jeep out into the first available opening. Once they were in the flow of traffic and headed back towards his place, he continued.

“So there were… let me see… eight of the guys who were always getting picked on, as far back as middle school. They were really why Mama Jimenez and I started the school’s chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance. But what we didn’t know was that even before we started that, they were kinda watching out for each other.”

Devon turned a bit more, resting the back of one shoulder against the passenger side door. “Go on. What did they do?”

Michael chuckled, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to push his bangs back from his forehead. He’d bet good money that it was killing the sergeant to keep from suggesting he get a real haircut and stop sporting the Justin Bieber hair-do he presently wore. Laughter threaded through his words as he spoke.

“They had this whole code worked out for what they called Glitter Alerts—”
A bright yellow sports car pulled out of nowhere to cut them off. Michael broke off to curse at the stupid shits. Maneuvering the Jeep quickly around the offending vehicle, he continued his story about Adrien and his glittery friends.
“Yeah, so anyway, they had a code for freaking damn near every single thing you could think of, all broken down in to colors and levels of glitter. Most of the average idiots at our school never figured out what the Twinks were up to. They just went on thinking they were all especially gay little gay-boys, and writing them off. But, Adrien and his Twinks protected more marginalized high school kids than ever knew about it, and all without ever breaking one of their pretty little nails. Well, except for Adrien, of course. He was always klutzy.”
Devon settled properly back into his seat, adjusting the safety belt over his chest as he did so. He turned his head, watching the passing scenery or at least doing a good impression of doing so. After a few moments had passed, he turned his head back toward Michael.
“Glitter Alerts?”
Michael snorted at his incredulous tone. “Yeah, Sarge. Color, level—I guess they’re kind of like Threat-Con levels for the military, but way more complex. They worked out a way to get appropriate help for every bullying situation they’d ever faced or heard about someone else getting caught up in. Adrien and Sam would have marathon like planning sessions where they strategized about how to help the kids who didn’t know how to ask for help.”
Devon blinked, smiled, shook his head and then frowned. “Damn. That’s—damn. Just damn. No wonder he was so pissed.”
Michael nodded. “Yup. You fucked up big time, Sarge. If I’d known you were gonna go all Man-Of-The-House on him I’d have warned you. I just figured you were smarter than that.”
Devon cut his eyes over to catch Rose smirking at him. “Fuck you, cabron. Fuck. You. One day someone’s gonna get your balls in a twist and you’ll be just as stupid as the rest of us.”
This time, when Michael laughed, even to his own ears the sound was a little thinner than before. Devon gazed at him intently, the look burning into the side of his face. Michael kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road in front of him, and his face perfectly neutral.
There was no reason to believe Sergeant Devon Soto had twigged to the fact that Michael had already met up with his very own ball twister. Slating a sly glance to the side, Michael found himself surprised all over again by the raw, lovestruck expression on Devon’s strong features. Clinging to the faint up turn of the former hardassed soldier’s lips and the crinkled corners of his nearly black eyes, a look of pure reverence plainly spoke of the contents of Devon’s thoughts. Without him uttering a single sound, Michael knew who he was thinking of. Over the little while the two had known one another, Michael had grown used to seeing his former NCO’s face assume that expression when his thoughts drifted to anything even remotely related to Adrien.

Back when they were ass deep in sand and insurgents, Michael had assumed Devon’s reaction to his stories, and that one picture of Adrien was only the man’s longing for the simple innocence, which shone from the clumsy little twink captured in the photo. Michael shook his head. He loved Adrien as dearly as he did his own baby brother. Adrien’s heart somehow managed to hang on year after year despite the difficulties he’d lived through. Now, Michael realized Devon had been falling for Adrien even back then. Christ, he could have saved them all a lot of heart-ache if he’d just taken Devon to meet Adrien at that crap college he’d gone away to rather than going home and introducing the guy to Andy.

After over two years you would think he’d have gotten over the hot rush of anger that their hooking up had caused him, but that just wasn’t true. Michael still had to keep a tight rein on himself whenever he thought about the one time Devon and Andy got together. Recovering from the blow caused by his new best friend treating the man Michael had been in love with since his senior year in high school was—well, it was a work in progress. Thinking about it still made him want to kick Devon’s ass. Andy became distant emotionally after Devon dumped him, and even though Andy had slept with him twice, Michael still didn’t feel confident their relationship was headed in the direction he wanted. That the first time started out as a method to comfort Andy didn’t change how much it meant to Michael, but he was pretty sure Andy didn’t see things the same way. Also, the way things had ended earlier sucked.

Michael shook off the introspective turn of his thoughts eventually, but not before Devon noticed his silence. When Rose made the turn onto the highway leading towards the mall, Devon called him on his infatuation in a dry tone of voice. “Going to check on Andy?”

Michael shifted in the driver’s seat, his shoulders tensing. There was no way he was going to tell Devon any of the things going through his head right now. Andy was safely at home, but Devon wouldn’t know that.

“Yeah, I am. There were some guys hassling him last week, and now, with Adrien fired, he’ll be short an elf. Which means he’s gonna have to do double duty tonight, working as an elf while he’s the manager on duty. If those rude fuckers show up, I don’t want him to have to face them down in those damn elf-a-go-go shorts he picked out for all the elves.”