Two Doms - Ch. 25 (13K words) (Patreon)

I did it!!!! I told you I would have this chapter done by the end of the month, and I made it. Just under the wire. By the way, I gotta admit I'm a little disappointed. Not a single person has wished me a crappy Hallowieners all month long :(

Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter! I actually don't think there's any CWs this time around! Maybe a little teasing. Tetanus references. Oh! This almost goes without saying, but mild dysphoria.

I had never been to an underground rock show before. Well, that's not technically true. One time I accompanied Father on a tour of an emerald mine he was considering investing in. But this was a completely different vibe.

When I agreed to help Kermit with his secret project, he insisted on meeting me one on one to discuss my role. I figured this was perfect. All I had to do was take a voice memo on my phone, record whatever devious scheme he had planned, and then show it to the faculty and get him kicked out. Quick, clean, uncomplicated. On a practical level, anyway. The emotional side was less simple, but I was used to pushing down emotions. This had to be done. Sharing a room with Nick was bad enough,  but sharing a room with Nick and his new, ugh, boyfriend, double ugh, Karl, was going to kill me.

Unfortunately there was a flaw in my plan. Kermit didn't ask me to meet in the studio, or his dorm, or anywhere else quiet. Instead I was in the basement of a college bar, with big black Xs on the back of my hands, and the music was so loud I could barely hear Kermit speak, let alone record him. 

“What?” I shouted again, trying to make my voice carry over the pumping bass.

Kermit repeated himself, but once again the bassline swallowed it up. I glared up at the stage, with half a mind to march up to the band and ask them to turn it down. I faltered when I saw the bass player though. I had been learning a bit more about different art and fashion aesthetics recently, it was weirdly interesting, and it gave me some cool ideas for future paintings, in case I needed to keep hanging around the studio much longer. The bassist was clearly going for a punk look, with her hair spiked up and a ripped leather vest showing off toned, tattooed arms. She didn't even seem to be paying attention to the song, more busy making flirty eyes at a girl in the front of the crowd. 

I strongly suspected that she was not open to receiving constructive feedback. 

I turned back to Kermit and shrugged apologetically, pointing at my ear. He nodded and took my by the arm, weaving through the crowd towards the corner of the room. He slipped between people easily, getting nods of recognition as he went. This was clearly very much his scene. 

We reached the far wall, covered in years of posters for local bands and touring acts, layered over each other and grimy with years of smoke and sweat. Through the grime I could still make out some of the designs on the posters, sharp lines and bold colors screaming out for attention. Kermit let go of my wrist and turned to me. He was wearing his paint-spattered coveralls, but stripped to his waist, so his top half was clad only in a tight crop top. Tattoos peaked in and out around the edges – by his sternum I saw a stencil-style image of a soldier putting a rifle at a little girl. The little girl was holding up an offering to protect herself: another, even littler girl. 

My heart quickened a bit. Even though Kermit was my enemy, there was something so intense about him. Everything about the way he presented himself was a statement, asserting his presence in the world. I could never be so bold. I had dressed as well as I could tonight, wearing the blue blouse Shawnee had complimented me on. Part of me wanted to wear a skirt, but Karl was hanging around the room and I was not ready to push my boundaries in front of him. 

Okay, yes. Focus.

I stood on my tiptoes and shouted up at Kermit, “So what do you need me to do?! For the project!”

“We’ll get to that!” said Kermit, “How do you like the band?”

I looked back at the stage. The lead singer and the guitarist were pressed against each other like they were about to start making out, the drummer was thrashing the drums like he was 6000 thrashes behind on his drum thrashing quota, and the bassist was on her knees at the front of the stage making suggestive bass thrusts at another girl in the crowd. I turned back to Kermit, “They seem like they're having a great time!”

Kermit smirked and leaned against the wall, “Not too degenerate for you?”

I blushed, “That was my father talking, you know?! I’m not like him!”

“I wanna believe that,” said Kermit. Somehow his voice cut through the noise of the crowd without him having to strain, “Miel vouches for you, Little Dom. But you seem uptight to me. Like you're hiding something.”

I shook my head, “I'm not! I'm openly gay now!”

“So I heard,” said Kermit, “It's cute how you labeled yourself like that. So eager to be something.”

I blushed and looked away. 

“It felt… it felt right!” I said, not totally sure if I believed it, “I mean, I'm not… I'm not straight, so…!”

“I don't believe in rigid categories,” Kermit said, “Gay or straight. Right or wrong. Society sets out cages and we rush to trap ourselves inside one or another, instead of running free in the space in between.”

“Oh!” I was beginning to get it, “Like you don't have to be gay or straight! You could be bisexual, or…!”

Kermit shook his head, “More boxes. You're obsessed with what you are, Dom. What do you want?”

I learnt against the wall, trying to focus despite the pounding music. 

What did I want? 

I wanted to be with men, I knew that. I liked it too much to be confused, even if my only experience was with Nick. I wanted to be pretty, and wear women's clothing instead of men's, and I wanted people to treat me like a girl instead of a boy. I wasn't sure if that meant I was trans… but if Kermit was saying that didn't matter…

It was too overwhelming to think about right now, with the bass pounding and my head aching from a night of bad sleep. What I wanted right now was to get rid of Karl. To get my room back.

“I want to help you!” I said looking up at Kermit fiercely, “I want to make art!”

Kermit studied my face intently. After a moment he nodded, apparently satisfied by what he saw. He pulled a notepad from his coveralls, scribbled something in it and tore off the page for me. 

“I got a package I need to pick up,” he said, “I can't have it delivered by mail. You think you can get that for me?”

I looked at the note. Crap, I vaguely recognised the name of the town, Batesville, and I was pretty sure it was hours away from campus. How was I supposed to get there without a driver? I was becoming increasingly comfortable with public transport, but navigating all that way by myself…

Kermit raised an eyebrow. Shoot. I couldn't have him thinking of me as a helpless whiny rich kid again. Not when I was so close. 

“Absolutely!” I said, “Not an issue at all!”

Kermit grinned, “Good. Don't let me down, Dom. This work… it's the biggest project I've ever attempted. It could be my masterpiece.”

His hand strayed to his waist, and I realized there was a bandage there, beneath his navel, peeking up from his waistband. 

Of course, I realised. Kermit had told me before that he tattooed designs for all of his pieces on his own body. This must be a new tattoo, depicting his secret project. 

Gosh, it was very low down on his abdomen. How far down did it go?

“Dom,” said Kermit. I snapped my eyes up guiltily.

“Sorry!” I said, “I was just trying to see…”

He smirked, “Get the package first. Prove I can trust you. Then you can take a real long look.”

***

“Shh,” Karl whispered, “Don't wake him up.”

I gritted my teeth and pushed my face harder against my pillow. I had been awake for the past five minutes, since the two of them had clattered their noisy way out of bed. But the last thing I wanted was to deal with stupid Nick and stupid Karl first thing in the morning, so I was pretending to be asleep until they left. 

“He's probably already awake,” Nick whispered back, “He does this creepy thing where he pretends to be asleep. It's fucked up.”

“That was like one time!” I said. 

“Jesus!” said Karl, “You're right, that's creepy as hell.”

I rolled over onto my aching back and sighed. It had been another awful night’s sleep. As if the couch wasn't bad enough, I had to listen to Nick and Karl murmuring and giggling to each other in bed all night, and making little wet sounds that I could only hope were just kisses. It was enough to make you puke. Honestly, the fact that I hadn't puked was a testament to my maturity. 

“Can you two stupid jerks just go away already?” I snapped, “I slept like total crap last night. I don't see why you can't stay at Karl’s place and let me have the bed.”

“Don't be fucking rude,” said Nick, “You don't hear me complaining when I have to sleep on the couch.”

I bit my tongue. Nick hadn't slept on the couch in quite some time, actually. Neither had I. But we had silently agreed not to tell anyone else that we had been sharing a bed. If Karl knew the kind of stuff Nick and I had gotten up to together, it would probably destroy their fledgling relationship. But the negative side of that is it would mean someone else knowing I had been, ugh, intimate with Nick. 

“Aww, go easy on him,” Karl said, his voice sickly sweet, “He's just a delicate little thing. You wouldn't make fun of Anika for being cranky after a bad sleep.”

I lifted my head, “You know Anika?”

Karl smiled at Nick, “We tell each other everything.”

I gave Nick a look and he grimaced. Clearly not everything.

“Yeah uh anyway!” Nick said loudly, “We gotta go! Training and shit! And uh. Yeah. Bye Nick.”

“Bye Little Dom,” Karl said, his tone rich with condescension, “You have a nice nap. And hey! You can borrow the bed when we’re out of town.”

“Wait,” I said, “What's that?”

“We got regionals coming up in Batesville,” said Nick, ”Gonna be staying overnight this Friday. So, yeah.”

My jaw dropped. What were the odds?

“Can I come?” I asked. 

Karl laughed out loud. Nick just stared at me. 

“Not because I want to spend time with you assholes,” I glared, “I have, like, business I need to do there. And I don't have a car or anything, so, like, could I get a lift or something?”

Nick raised his eyebrows and I sighed, “Please?”

“I dunno, dude,” Nick shrugged, “I mean guess I could ask Coach if there's room on the bus…”

“Oh, we could definitely ask,” Karl said, with a smug grin, “If you do something for us. Coach has got us staying in these shitty motel rooms, and I don't wanna have to push two twin beds together. And you're gonna have to book your own accommodation anyway, right? So maybe you get us a nicer room, and we’ll ask Coach about letting you hitch a ride.”

“Aw, man,” Nick rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “You can't make him pay for two rooms.”

“Why not?” Karl shrugged, “You said his dad pays for everything, right?”

Nick winced, “Yeah, but his dad is kinda…”

“It's fine,” I interrupted. I did not need Nick telling Karl about my relationship with my father. “I'll take your room, then. Just ask your coach about giving me a lift.”

Karl laughed, “Perfect. And this way, you get two beds to yourself. A special little treat for a special little boy.”

***

As much as talking to Nick and Karl had infuriated me, I was very pleased with myself for coming up with a solution to my transport problem. Not everything got handed to me, after all. Sometimes I had to work things out for myself, using nothing but quick thinking, my excellent people skills, and an extremely convenient coincidence. 

Well, I was still proud. 

I was eager to discuss it with Miel, but when I got to the studio that afternoon, she wasn't there. 

“She said she was researching something, but she wouldn't say what it was,” said Shawnee, “I assume it's an ACORN thing? But then I don't know why she's being so secretive. Wait, turn your head back again.”

I turned obligingly and Shawnee furrowed her brow as she scratched away at her sketchpad. I kept looking at her through the corner of my eye, adding a few bold lines with my marker.  

“I'm so bad at noses,” Shawnee complained, “I always get Jess to do the nose for me.”

“This’ll be good for you, babe,” Jess called out, “You need to face your fears. Grab the bull by the horns.”

“Or by the nose,” Mateus suggested, “That's what they've got those nose rings for.”

“I'm sure your nose is going to turn out fine,” I said, “My nose, I mean. Your my nose.”

“Stop talking please, it's making my your nose wiggle,” Shawnee muttered.

The four of us were in our own little corner of the studio, working on our respective projects. Well, working is maybe generous. Shawnee and I were practicing our portrait skills by drawing each other, and Mateus was teaching Jess some basic wire sculpting techniques. I guess maybe it was work, in a way. In fact, it was even learning. But after weeks of business classes it was hard to wrap my head around the idea that learning could be fun. It was a shame that only applied to frivolous things like art. 

“Is that what those rings are for?” Jess mused, “To lead the bulls around?” 

“City girl,” Mateus laughed, “What else would they be for?”

“I thought bulls were just dykes,” Jess shrugged, “Y'know? Bull dykes.”

“I’m pretty sure bulls are male,” I pointed out, eager to impress Mateus with my very unsheltered and worldly knowledge of farm animals. He nodded approvingly as he bent a tangle of wire into shape. 

“Maybe they're trans, Dom,” Jess said smugly, “Ever think of that? You fucking bigot.”

I blushed and turned my eyes back to my own sketchpad. I had not, in fact, considered that bulls might be trans. Honestly, it was a topic I tried to avoid thinking about. I added a bit more highlight to Shawnee’s cheeks. 

“Anyway, why are you looking for Miel?” Shawnee asked.

“Oh it's, um…” I hesitated, “it's kind of a, um, secret. But not, like, a personal secret. More of, like, a secret project.”

Jess sighed, “Kermit's secret project?”

I looked up sharply. Shawnee hissed, clearly displeased by the new angle I had thrust my nose into. 

“He told you about it?” I said, and immediately felt dumb. Of course he had told Jess and Shawnee and Mateus about it. They were real artists. I was just a dumb rich kid hanging around them to try and pull a stupid scheme. Obviously I would be the last person involved. 

“Yeah,” Jess said, “He mentioned it. Asked if Shawnee and I could be trusted.”

“Oh, that's so cool!” I said, “I'm so glad you're all involved. Do you know what it is? I'm sure it has to be something incredible.”

Mateus laughed darkly. I turned to Shawnee, eyes wide. This could be a good chance to get some inside intel that could help me get Kermit in trouble. Also, I was just curious. 

Shawnee gave me a warning look. Uh oh. Could she tell I was fishing?

“I mean, I'm just glad to be a part of it,” I said quickly, “I think Kermit is so amazing. It's really cool to see someone who cares about using their art to make a positive change in the world. He's not just a great artist, he's a great man.”

Mateus set down his pliers with a heavy thud.

“I'm gonna take a break,” he said, and walked off.

“Oh,” I said quietly as Mateus disappeared behind a row of canvases, “Was he not invited to the project?”

“Um, kind of,” Shawnee said delicately, “Actually, Jess and I decided not to join in either.”

I blinked, “Really?”

Jess laughed, “Yeah, we’re not exactly dying to be part of Kermit’s fucking–”

“Anyway!” Shawnee said, “I think I nailed your nose. See?”

She turned her sketchpad around, showing off a very lifelike charcoal drawing of what I would look like if my nose was about an inch higher on my face and also bent really weird. 

“Oh, wow!” I said, “That's so good!”

“You are too fucking nice, Little Dom,” Jess sighed. She set down her wirework and gave Shawnee a peck on the forehead, “You beefed the nose, babe.”

“I knew it,” Shawnee said glumly. 

“The rest of it is really good, though,” I said, “I love the shading. I can never get charcoal to make smooth gradients like that.”

“That's because she's a genius,” Jess said proudly.

“And because you used charcoal for the first time about a week ago,” Shawnee said, “But also, yes, I am a genius. Thank you Jessica.”

The two of them made amorous eyes at each other. I waited politely for them to finish eye-fucking. With these two, it could take a while.

“Ooookay,” Shawnee said eventually, dragging her eyes back to me, “Let's see yours, Dom!”

I looked down at my portrait of Shawnee, which suddenly looked incredibly amateurish compared to the genuinely impressive realism she had managed.

“Um, that's okay,” I said, “It’s… I was just practicing, you know.”

“Boo!” said Shawnee, “I'm sure it's beautiful.” 

“Even if it doesn't compare to the real thing,” Jess sighed. 

“Don't be rude.”

“Sorry, Dom, I'm sure your drawing is as hot as my girlfriend.”

“Well, I don't know about that,” I muttered. The two of them looked at me expectantly. I could see in their expressions a familiar blend of ‘we support you’ and ‘so you better not chicken out on us.’ I sighed and showed them my drawing. 

I hadn't been going for realism, okay? It was more of a pop-art impressionist kind of style, inspired by some of the posters I had seen at the rock show. For some reason, the boldness had appealed to me. But I was worried that the thick blocks of color looked more like a child’s drawing than anything truly artistic. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” said Jess, “That is hot.”

“That looks incredible, Dom!” Shawnee beamed, “It’s so… ruthless.”

Jess nodded, “Violent. But also… melancholic.”

“Sharp, but fluid.”

“Jagged, but healing.”

“Rich, but agile.”

“And it’s also so…” Jess searched for the word, then pointed fiercely, “So purple.”

“Yes!” Shawnee nodded, “I love the purple.”

“And the yellow,” said Jess, “I never thought of Shawnee as purple and yellow but I see it.”

I blushed. All the praise – I was pretty sure it was praise, anyway, I was still getting used to artist talk – was a bit overwhelming. 

“Thank you,” I said, “I saw the color combination a while back, somewhere, and I wanted to see if I could make it look. Um. Not ugly.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” said Jess, "That's a fuckable portrait.”

“Would I look good in purple?” Shawnee mused 

“Yes!” Jess said, “Oh shit, that's a great idea. I have this purple lipstick, and this yellow eyeshadow… shit, I gotta see you in it.”

“Oh my god, let's do it!” Shawnee said, “And we gotta show Dom, obviously.”

“Makeover party!” Jess clapped her hands, the girlish squee in her voice contrasting with her usual intimidating demeanor.

“Slumber party!” squealed Shawnee, who was a bit more naturally squeeish, “We can do each other's makeup and get high and talk about girls! And boys, for Dom.”

“Yesss,” Jess grinned, “Dom, you're cool to sleep over tonight, right?”

I winced. I did like Jess and Shawnee, and it did sound fun, but something about the idea of intruding on their private space felt wrong. Sick. Predatory. I mean, they were in the women's dorms, after all. And they were both women. Who loved women! I didn't belong there. I belonged back in my own dorm.

With Nick and Karl. And the couch.

“Absolutely,” I said. 

****

“Boo!” Jess and Shawnee screamed. 

I lowered the hanger with my men's pajamas on it, and raised the one with my cute little not-totally-undeniably-feminine sleep set on it 

“Yay!” they cheered.

I giggled and teetered back and forth for a while. 

“Boo!” “Fuck off!”

“Yay!” “So cute!” 

“Boo!” “We of course support you if you do genuinely want to wear that but it definitely seems like you would prefer not to!”

“Yay!” “Stop fucking around already!”

I had brought two options for my pajamas, in case I was too shy to wear the girlier ones in front of my friends. But I should've known by now that I could trust them. Also, okay, maybe I was a little high by this point. 

The girls covered their eyes demurely while I got changed, then I plopped onto the bed so that Jess could do my makeup.

Jess had already done Shawnee’s makeup, and sure enough she looked incredible, the bright pops of purple and yellow acting as perfect highlights against the dark brown of her skin. I had been worried it might not work in real life, but Jess explained how she could use lip and eyeliner to create clear cutoffs like in my drawing, rather than letting the colors blur and look bruised. Makeup was a whole art in itself, I realised. 

After a while Shawnee had gotten tired of the two of us gawking over her for so long, and declared that it was now my turn. Now Jess was perched on the bed beside me, running purple lipstick over my lips. 

“This isn't fair,” Shawnee whined, “Why don't I get to do his makeup?”

“I bought it,” Jess said primly, “And besides, you get too horny when you do it.”

“No I don't!” Shawnee squeaked, “I mean, okay, yes, when you let me sit on your lap while I do your eyeliner like in that one picture… but I wouldn't do that to Dom, okay?”

I blushed. The thought of Shawnee sitting on my lap made me feel a bit more of that sick, predatory feeling. I mean, I had stuff down there that she probably shouldn't be sitting on. Sure, it was all tucked away, and I was gay anyway, but still… it was icky.

“I'm not risking it,” Jess announced, “Dom, you might be a boy, but you are far too pretty for me to let my girlfriend play with your lips.”

“Um,” I was suddenly keen to change the topic, “Why did you decide not to help Kermit with his secret thing?”

“Ugh,” Jess frowned as she dusted shimmering yellow eyeshadow above my eyes, “Kermit can be…”

“Challenging,” Shawnee offered.

“...a real dick,” Jess finished, “You can ask Mateus if you don't believe me.”

“You probably shouldn't, though,” said Shawnee, “It's a sensitive subject.”

“Did something happen between them?” I asked.

“They used to date,” Jess said, “And it didn't end great. I dunno, it's not really our place to talk about it.”

I almost nodded but Jess grabbed me by the chin so I wouldn't disturb the thin lines of white eyeliner she was tracing around my eyes.

“Kermit has a lot of big ideas, and he's very talented,” said Shawnee, “But I think sometimes he doesn't always consider how his actions affect other people.”

“I know a couple of guys like that,” I muttered, “My stupid roommate and his stupid boyfriend are making it impossible for me to get any sleep.”

“Oof,” Jess winced, “They fucking?”

“God, thankfully not so far,” I said, “But it's gonna be a relief to finally have a night where I don't have to listen to people making out all night long.”

“Oh,” Shawnee said.

“It's okay,” Jess reassured her.

“Hmm.”

“No, shoot, sorry!” I said quickly, “I mean obviously you two can do whatever you want in your own room! It's totally different. Nick and Karl are just a couple of dumb horny guys. You two are, like, two amazing beautiful people in love.”

“Oh!” Shawnee gasped. 

“Uhh…” Jess glanced at her nervously.

“Did I say something wrong?” I winced. 

“No, I mean, um, well,” Shawnee stammered, “I mean, we haven't exactly, um, said that, exactly, yet.”

Oh, shit. So that was a yes. Yes, I very much had said something wrong.

“I mean…” Jess set her makeup down and looked at her girlfriend anxiously, “Are we? In love?”

I could hear the tension in her voice. It was almost as high as the tension I was feeling in my own stomach. I’d better not have just broken up my friends. Besides the fact that they were both lovely people, and a great couple, that would make the sleepover very awkward.

“I've never been in love before,” Shawnee said slowly, “So… I'm not really sure what it's supposed to feel like…”

I eyed the door, preparing to make a break for it.

“But…” she smiled shyly, “I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and sleep next to you every night, and kiss you every morning…”

Jess grinned and stood up, “I want to be with you forever too, and keep making cool shit together, and grow old and be cool old lesbians together.”

I smiled and nestled back into the bed as the two girls embraced each other in the middle of the room. 

“It feels pretty safe to say we’re in love, I think,” Shawnee said.

“We’re so in love,” Jess beamed, and the two of them kissed. I wanted to applaud, but I stayed quiet so I wouldn't spoil the moment. But then they kept kissing, for a really long time, and then they started feeling each other up, and eventually I did have to remind them that I was still in the room.

“Oh shit, sorry Dom,” Jess said, “But hey! Look how good you look!”

I hopped up so I could check myself out in the full length mirror they had leaning against their dorm room wall. Jess was right, I did look good. My dramatically made up face clashed with my casual cami and shorts, but once again I looked happy, and pretty, and girlish in a way that secretly thrilled me.

“You nailed it,” I beamed. I turned and pointed to Jess decisively, “And now it's your turn.”

“Yay!” Shawnee grabbed Jess’s makeup kit and tackled her to the bed, straddling her predatorially to begin applying her makeup.

Oh jeez. Jess wasn't kidding about her getting worked up. 

***

“Hey Little Dom, does your dad own that farm?” said Karl.

I glowered and hunched down lower in my seat, “No.”

“How about that apple orchard?” he asked.

“No.” I said. 

“How about that factory? Does your dad own that factory, Little Dom?” 

“No!” I snapped.

“Holy shit, yes he does,” Nick laughed, “Western United Steel? That's one of the companies your dad's firm invests in.”

Karl guffawed, “Damn Little Dom, I knew you were rich, I didn't realize you owned half the country.”

I sighed and looked out the window. We had only been on the bus for twenty minutes and I was already wishing I had just stayed at the dorm. The bus was hot and uncomfortable and full of loud, smelly athletes, the two worst of which were sitting right behind me. Karl had insisted, so he could get to know Nick’s “bestie”. We had both made it very clear we were not besties, but that didn't seem to phase him.

“So what else does Little Dom’s little dad's little company own, Dom?” Karl asked.

“It's mostly commodities,” said Nick, “Lane Holdings started off as Lane-Cooper Coal, back in the 1800s. Then Charlton Lane used the coal money to start investing in other mining companies, and he made a ton of money during the gold rush. And then recently they've been heavily investing in digital assets. Like NFTs and Metaverse stuff.”

I turned around and eyed him suspiciously, “How do you know all that?”

He shrugged, “I did some research after I talked to your dad. It's cool.”

“Very cool,” said Karl, “So your family's been rich for hundreds of years, Little Dom.” 

“I guess,” I said. 

“That’s so cool, Little Dom,” said Karl, “You've really never had to struggle at all. For generations.”

“I… guess…” I said. 

“No wonder it was so hard for you to have to share a room,” Karl said, his voice treacly with faux-sympathy, “It's not your fault you're bad at sharing. It's in your blood. Me and Dom are natural athletes. You're a natural rich kid.”

Nick laughed, “Bossing people around is in his blood.”

“He’s genetically predisposed to having a maid,” said Karl, “Haha.”

“Yes, well!” I said, “If my family wasn't wealthy you would be sleeping in shitty twin beds tonight. So you're welcome.”

“I was wondering about that,” said Nick, “You said your dad would get mad if you took an uber to Batesville, right? But he's cool with you booking a motel room?”

“His financial manager gives him notifications about travel spending, but not accommodation,” I said.

“How does that make sense?” said Nick.

I shrugged, “I don't know. It's a tax thing, I think.”

Karl laughed, “Of course. Tax evasion probably runs in his blood, too.”

Nick laughed, “He's got the embezzlement gene.”

I groaned and slumped into my seat.

***

It was evening by the time we got to the motel. I tried my best not to look actively disgusted, but god, it was difficult. I had spent a large part of my childhood in various luxury hotels and resorts around the world, and even though I had tried to set my expectations low, this place somehow was still worse. It was a dumpy two story building, in a U-shape surrounding a parking lot. There was no fine dining restaurant, no casino, no spa. There wasn't even a doorman, if you can believe that. Instead, the coach line all the athletes up in front of a grumpy teenager to collect their room keys. Nick, Karl and I hung back so we could explain our room situation. In the meantime, they kept pestering me.

“It's a hot date, isn't it?” said Karl, “You're meeting up with your online boyfriend.”

“No I'm not!” I said, “Don't be gross!”

“Whoa,” Karl laughed and held up his hands in defence, “Don't get homophobic on me, Little Dom.”

“I told you, dude,” Nick shook his head, “He's a nasty guy. He freaked out when I told him I was into you.”

“Oh yeah?” I glared at him, “Remind me what context we had that conversation in.”

That shut him up. Karl gave me and Nick an odd look.

“Anyway,” I said, “I’m obviously not homophobic. I'm literally openly gay.”

“Oh shit,” Nick said, surprised, “Hey, good for you. Seriously.”

“Yeah, great,” said Karl, “So what is it then? If it's not a date?”

I sighed. This line of questioning was clearly not going to end.

“I'm picking up a package,” I said, “It's for… an art project.”

Nick gave me a curious look. By this point I knew him well enough to understand that he was silently asking if this was part of the plan to take down Kermit. I nodded and he grinned.

Karl laughed, “You know, you can buy crayons at the mall.”

“It's not crayons,* I said, “it's… I mean, I don't know what it is, exactly. But it's something that can't be sent by mail.”

“Holy shit,” said Karl, “Little Dom is picking up a bomb.”

“It's not a bomb!” I said hotly.

“Something illegal though, right?* Nick said quietly. He hunched down, closing the distance between us. He was super tall, so there was a lot to close. Karl frowned and leant in as well. Nick kept his voice low, “Do you know the guy you're meeting with? Or the location?”

“Um,” I felt goosebumps run down my arms. I hadn't really thought about that. I kind of assumed it would just be like picking up a package from the post office, “I have the address. I checked it out online and it's, um, like an old warehouse.”

Karl snickered but Nick brushed him off, still looking at me, his dark eyes intense, worried.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he said, “This sounds sketchy as fuck, Nick. I don't think you should go.”

“Yeah,” Karl nodded, “Sounds like it might be a bit too scary for you, Little Dom.”

I bristled, “I can handle myself just fine, okay? I'm not just a sheltered rich kid. I'm gonna go tomorrow morning, I'll be back by the time you two are done with your stupid races.”

“Fuck that, Nick,” said Nick, “This isn't me being a dick, I swear. I've been around shit like this before, okay? Shit can go real wrong, real fast. Especially if you're there alone. Picking up some sketchy package in some abandoned warehouse from a dude you've never met? People die like that.”

“So, what?” I said, “I just drop it? And we never… we never complete the art project?” 

“I'll come with you,” Nick said firmly, “Wait until after the meet and we’ll go together.”

“Ew!” I said, “Like my bodyguard or something?”

“Like another person who's there so that the guy doesn't fucking jump you,” said Nick.

“Wait, Dom,” said Karl, looking a little nervous, “Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, if someone stabs Little Dom, his dad can just buy him a new liver or whatever. But I don't want you getting hurt. Should I come too? To make sure nothing happens to you?”

Nick grimaced but played it off with a smile, “Nah, I'll be fine. I grew up in some sketchy places. I know how to handle it. You hang back and cover for us with Coach.”

Karl looked at him for a moment, then at me with a much less affectionate expression, then shrugged, “Alright. Sounds like a plan. Little Dom, you better look after him, alright? Use those big manly muscles of yours, I don't want my precious boy getting hurt.”

Nick laughed, but something about it sounded off. I gave him a look and he glared at me. 

“Hey Nick, you have fun watching us race tomorrow,” he said.

Karl laughed, “Yeah, make sure you bring your blankie in case you need a nap.”

I opened my mouth to say something very cool and smart and cutting, but the line had cleared and the grumpy teenager called out to us.

“Yo! Two talls and a small!*

We approached the desk to check in. The teen looked at Nick and Karl’s room first.

“Alright, Dominic Lane and Karl Olafsson, you guys are in room 107. It's a twin room, two beds, kinda shitty, but all the twin rooms here are kinda shitty, so, whatever. It shares a bathroom with room 108 so make sure you knock if you don't wanna see some random dude’s dick or whatever.”

“Actually,” Karl puffed himself up proudly, “We’re switching rooms with our little buddy here. We’ll be staying in the Executive Elite Suite.”

The teen blinked, “The Executive Elite Suite? That's… that's the finest room in our whole motel. It's double the price of a regular room.”

Karl nodded smugly. Nick looked pretty psyched too. The teen shock his head in wonder, then set down the key and picked up the one next to it.

“Executive Elite Suite is room 108, it's exactly the same as all the other rooms except it has an extra lamp. It shares a bathroom with 107 so, again, knock if you don't want to see a surprise butthole.”

The two of them looked a little deflated. I rolled my eyes. How much could they have seriously expected from a place like this? Did I mention there wasn't even a doorman?

I took their place at the desk, “I guess that makes me room 107. I paid for their room.”

“Sure thing… Huh, Dominic Lane? You've got the same name as that other guy. That's pretty funny.”

“It's hilarious.”

“So your room is a twin, and…” his eyes widened and he called out to Nick and Karl, “Wait! Guys!”

“What's up?” said Nick.

“There's a problem,” the teen said. Nick's shoulders slumped. Karl glared at me as if the problem was somehow my fault. I glared right back.

“What is it?” Karl said.

The teen winced, “The thing about that room is… there's only one bed.”

“Oh, that's fine,” Karl said, “We’re gonna fuck each other in it.”

…

I was so excited to get a good sleep that night. Yes, both of the little twin beds were gross, but I had prepared for that and packed accordingly. I stripped the sheets, wrinkling my nose with distaste at the yellowed mattress underneath, then made the bed with my own nicer sheets. I felt a sense of smug satisfaction as I did it. Look at me, Dominic Lane, making my own bed!

I had brought my own pajamas as well, a really nice, really pretty nightgown with a matching robe. The French would call them a chemise and peignoir. I knew a little French, although Mother only taught me enough to order hotel staff around. I figured out s'il vous plaît on my own. 

Sometimes I worried that I got too excited about my pajamas. What was the line between being excited to look pretty and having a fetish? If a girl got excited about wearing something cute, that was okay. But I wasn't a girl. Probably. Was I?

I pushed the thought down, like I was so good at doing, and tried to get some sleep. My first time in months sleeping in my own room, in my own clothes, without Nick or Karl or the impending spectre of my visiting father to worry about! I settled back into the pillows with a happy sigh. 

Ah.

The pillows were not quite as fluffy as I would have preferred. 

I sighed and got out of bed, snatching up the pillows from the other bed as well. I didn't have pillowcases for these, but I did my best wrestling them in with the others, then settled in for a slightly grumpier sleep. It was hard to stay mad for too long, though. Even on this gross little bed, being surrounded by my nice sheets, in my fancy chemise, with my ever-lengthening hair still smelling of the floral shampoo I had washed with before bed… after the wretched ordeal, it felt truly decadent. It made me feel like a princess, and not in the condescending sarcastic way I could imagine Nick saying it, but in the beautiful, reverent way that I could also imagine Nick saying it.

Hmm.

There was something else I hadn't done in a while, what with all the stress and scrutiny I had been under. I slipped a hand under the hem of my nightie, tracing along my smooth thigh. What fantasy should it be tonight? The princess and her loyal bodyguard sounded enticing. Nick said bossing people around was in my blood, huh? Well, I had a few orders I would like him to–

I stopped, my fingers hovering delicately over the trapped little bump in my panties. Should I really be fantasizing about Nick?

I mean, this was far from the worst thing I had done involving Nick, but he was in a relationship now. They were together at that very moment, only a single room away. If Karl knew I was right next door, rubbing myself off while thinking about his boyfriend, he would probably be really upset.

Okay, that decided it.

I was definitely going to do it.

***

I woke up a couple of hours later, still in a blissful warm afterglow of satisfaction. My neck did hurt a bit, though. Stupid pillows. 

I tossed and turned for a while, trying to get back to sleep, but eventually I gave up. I needed the bathroom anyway. I got up, slipped on my peignoir, and crept to the bathroom door. I didn't want to knock, in case Nick and Karl were asleep. If they woke up they would no doubt start yelling at me, as if I was the loud and annoying one. Instead I crouched down and peeked thought the keyhole. All clear. 

Once I was inside I snuck over to the door on their side to lock it, but as I did, I heard a strange noise coming from their room. It sounded like Nick, grunting and whimpering.

Oh, ew! They better not be…

I screwed up my face and tried to block out the thought. Too gross, too gross, too gross. But even as I pushed the thought way deep down, into the dark pit of don’t-think-about-it where I kept all the gender stuff, I realised that the noises were familiar. They weren't the noises Nick made when I was sucking his dick. They were the noise he made when he was in pain.

“Dom?” Karl whispered, “Are you okay?”

Oh, shit. 

“Uh-huh,” Nick grunted. I held my breath, hoping Karl would leave it at that. 

“Are you hurt? You sound hurt,” Karl said, and I could hear in his voice that he was worried, “Do you need me to get Coach?”

“No!” Nick hissed, “I'm, nngh, I'm fine.”

“You don't sound fine,” Karl said. No, no, no! Drop it, you idiot! 

“Mfine,” Nick grunted. His voice was strained, and I could tell it wasn't just pain he was holding back. I wanted to burst in there and tell Karl to shut up, but unlike him I was smart enough to stay quiet.

“I can get you some aspirin or something,” Karl offered, “Or a glass of water?”

“Dude, I'm… I'm fine,” Nick grunted, “It’s just… It just happens, ngh, sometimes.”

“Oh,” Karl said quietly, “Because of your arm?”

Nick didn't say anything for a moment, and I could picture him, face screwed up, trying to keep his breath steady.

Finally, he muttered, “Yeah.”

“That's okay,” Karl said, and I heard a soft sound as he kissed Nick on the forehead or shoulder or butthole or whatever. “It's okay. You're gonna be okay.”

“Thanks,” said Nick, and even in that one word I could tell he was feeling a lot more emotions other than gratitude. 

I felt sick. I shouldn't have heard any of that. I mean, god, it shouldn't have even happened, Karl should have been smart enough to stay quiet, but me listening in would've hurt Nick just as much. 

I snuck back out of the bathroom and back to bed, preparing for yet another shitty night’s sleep.

***

There was a weird tension between Nick and Karl at breakfast the next morning. They weren't joking around like usual. They weren't even picking on me. They just ate their breakfast silently, with Karl occasionally casting concerned looks at Nick. Maybe it was because of what happened the night before. Maybe they were just anxious about their upcoming races. Maybe it was just because the stale cereal and cold eggs provided by the motel were really, really bad. 

I accompanied them to the athletic field or track or whatever it was called where they would be competing. The whole, I don't know, stadium was bustling. Hundreds of students from different colleges were buzzing around, warming up, practicing their running or jumping or throwing. Officials with whistles and clipboards carved in between them, ordering people around. Speakers crackled with announcements before each event. Overall it was kind of overwhelming. Believe it or not, I wasn't much of an athlete back in high school, so I had never actually been to a regional meet. This was a much bigger deal than I had thought. 

Nick and Karl followed their coach to go warm up and I found a seat in the bleachers and settled in. Even up here it was pretty crowded. Lots of people had come out to watch, especially middle aged couples. It took me a little while to realize why there was such an audience for a college track meet, until finally it clicked that they were families there to support their kids. I wondered if Nick's family were there. Probably not, unfortunately. Based on the few conversations I’d sat in on, both of his parents worked full time. It didn't seem likely they would be able to make the trip out to Batesville. 

That was a shame. Anika would've loved this. 

The speakers crackled into life again, “Men’s one hundred and ten meter hurdles, heat one, all contestants to the starting line.”

I sat up, scanning the arena(?). Sure enough, I saw Nick’s lanky body lined up amongst the other contestants. He took his place in the starting blocks. He wasn't wearing his prosthesis, of course, and he kept his short arm tucked behind him to keep his balance. I couldn't see his face from this far away, but I could still read his body language. Whatever tension was there at breakfast was gone now. Instead, Nick’s body was thrumming with energy, like a car revving its engine. He was confident. Cocky. Certain he would win. The obnoxious arrogance I was so used to him wielding against me was at its peak. 

I took out my phone and started filming. If Nick won, his family would want to see this. If he lost, I would want to watch it again. 

“On your marks… Get set….” 

The starter pistol fired and the athletes took off. Nick burst up from his crouched position, shoving the ground away, whipping his other arm out like he was physically throwing himself forward. I realized now why his coach had spent so long drilling his starts. This one was good for Nick, but it still wasn't his strong point. Already he was at the back of the pack.

That didn't last long, though. 

The athletes pounded down the track, approaching the first hurdle. Nick was a step behind, until his long, powerful legs cleared that hurdle like he was stepping over a crack in the pavement, and suddenly it was half a step. Then another hurdle, and he was neck and neck with the rest of the group. 

I leapt to my feet, keeping my phone focused on him. Holy shit, this was so much more exciting than watching a training session.

The runners crossed the next three hurdles like they were nothing. God, they were good. Their heads barely bobbed as they shot over the hurdles. Nick was keeping pace, each step perfectly placed, each hurdle passing under him without breaking his stride. It wasn't just his height, his technique was incredible. After months of studying his body I could see the difference, the way that some of the other runners hesitated just a bit between steps while he stayed steady. The guy on the farthest lane glanced across, scoping out his competitors. His head only turned a little, just for a split-second, but it was enough, and he clipped his knee on the next hurdle and lost any chance at placing. Nick wasn’t looking around like that, overthinking. He was just focused on the finish line. 

Nick crossed the seventh, eighth hurdle. It had all happened so fast, just over ten seconds, and everyone was moving so quick, and it was hard to tell what exactly was going on, but then he crossed the ninth and I was sure he was ahead, and then in a final burst of speed he cleared the tenth and sprinted full force to the finish line, and there was no question he had won.

I punched the air, “Yes! Go Nick!”

I felt giddy, like I had just won the race myself. He did it! He won! That was my… okay, not my friend, but my roommate! My temporary roommate as a result of a clerical-error, who I hated but hooked up with sometimes! And he fricking won!

“Fuck yes!” I heard a distant voice yell, “That's my fucking boyfriend!”

I stopped and looked down at the coliseum (whatever), zooming in on my camera to confirm what I thought I had heard. 

Karl was whooping and clapping from the sidelines, loudly asserting his ownership over Nick’s success. Like he had done anything to actually help him win.

I grimaced and stopped the recording. That bit was getting trimmed out.

***

“Is this it?” Nick asked.

We were outside an abandoned warehouse. Wind whistled through holes in the dilapidated walls. Jagged bars of rebar jutted out at odd angles, rusted ends screaming the threat of tetanus. 

I checked my phone, “Not this one. The one we’re looking for is even, um, older and more abandoned.”

Nick stared at me, “More abandoned? How it can be more abandoned? It's either abandoned or not abandoned.”

I turned my nose up and kept walking, “You'll see what I mean when we get there. It's way more abandoned than this place.”

“Fucking whatever,” Nick said, “This one is abandoned as fuck. If I was selling drugs or whatever this is where I’d do it.”

“It's not drugs,” I said primly, “Kermit doesn't do drugs, remember? He doesn't even drink. Honestly, I can't believe you were giving me grief when you can't even remember basic information about our target.”

“Our target?” Nick scoffed, “What, are you a spy now?”

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes.

“And fucking excuse me for not remembering every detail about your little friend,” said Nick, “I got enough on my plate with work and training–”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “And making out with your boyfriend all day long.”

I skipped nimbly over a large crack in the pavement. This whole neighborhood was extremely run down, but I had gotten used to navigating the rugged paths of Great Oaks College. I may not be hurdling any time soon but a cracked sidewalk was no obstacle to me!

It took a few seconds for me to realise Nick wasn't saying anything. For a normal person, that wouldn't be surprising, but for Nick shutting up was unheard of.

I turned to him, “What? No stupid comeback?”

“He's, uh,” Nick looked uncomfortable, “I mean, he's not my boyfriend, exactly.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Trouble in paradise.”

“I mean, we’re, y'know, he’s cool,” Nick said, digging his hands into the pockets of his old grey hoodie, “But we’re, y'know. I mean. Y'know.”

Hmm. After what I had heard the night before, I suspected I did know. But as far as Nick was concerned, I didn't know about that. And his relationship was none of my business. Although I couldn't deny that I felt a pleasant little flutter in my stomach upon hearing that Nick wasn't as committed to Karl as I had thought. Just because it meant I might have more privacy soon, obviously. 

“Well, you might want to tell him that.”

Nick shrugged, “He gets it.”

“He seemed pretty confident about the whole boyfriend thing back at the,” I hesitated, “The running court.”

Nick screwed up his face, “The what?”

I waved him off, “You know what I mean. Okay, I think it's down this alley.”

“Fucks sake,” Nick sighed, “I can't believe you were planning to come here alone. You sure Kermit isn't tryna get you killed or kidnapped or something?”

I rolled my eyes, “First of all, my father has kidnapping insurance. So it wouldn't even matter.”

“You say that,” Nick said, “Until they cut off your finger and mail it to your dad.”

“Well, I'd just snap a finger off your stupid little hand,” I said airily, “The color suits me better anyway.”

Nick laughed, “Fuck you, dude. You're not getting any of my fingers.”

I smirked, “We’ll see.”

Nick jogged in front of me and turned around, walking backwards while staring down at me with a taunting expression. He was wearing his prosthesis again, and he reached out towards me with it.

“Come get it then, little bitch,” he smirked.

“Hey!” I scowled, “You know, even when you use it in a joking way, that kind of language–”

I snatched for his hand, hoping that the speech I had stolen from Miel would be enough to distract him. Unfortunately his reaction was too quick, and he whipped his arm away before I could grab it. 

“Oh! Too slow!” he crowed. He jogged backwards, arms raised triumphantly, “Dom Lane takes the victory again! The fast one, not the little rich one!”

I giggled despite myself and gave him a mocking slow clap. He bowed very ungraciously. 

“You're in a good mood,” I said.

He shrugged and grinned, “What can I say? Winning feels fucking good, Nick. And I fucking smoked those little fuckers today. Wish my family got to see it.”

“Yeah, that's a shame,” I sighed, “Now your family will never know that you can run in a straight line very fast. They would've been so proud.”

“Don't forget I was jumping over things as well,” Nick pointed out.

“But I will forget,” I said, pouting mockingly, “Those beautiful memories are already lost to time. You'll have to describe it to them yourself. First I was standing still. Then I jumped over some things. Then I stood still again.”

Nick's smile faded a bit, “Yeah, well. If I win again at state, I'll go to nationals, and maybe they can come see that.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “Or I guess you could show them the video I took?”

Nick stopped, “What?”

 “Oh, did I not mention?” I said coolly, “I filmed your race. Just because, you know, I'm really kind and thoughtful and selfless like that.”

“Wait, actually?”

“Yep.”

“That's actually… that rules, Nick,” Nick grinned, “Thank you, That's seriously really nice of you.”

I shrugged, “it's not really for you. I just figured Anika might want to see it. And she's actually cool, so…”

“I won't deny my sister's cool,” Nick said. He smiled at me, a soft, genuine smile, very different to the mocking smirk I had gotten used to. I blushed and looked away. Ugh. Why did he have to be so hot? As much as I enjoyed my little fantasy seasons, I did not appreciate these funny feelings cropping up in real life. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. 

“Got Karl’s reaction at the end too,” I said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I imitated Karl’s stupid voice, “That's my fucking boyfriend!”

“Shit,” said Nick, “He’s, uh. I mean, we haven't talked about it, but, uh.”

I don't blame you,” I said, “I would avoid talking to him as much as possible.”

“Dude,” Nick sighed, “I know you don't like him, but he's a good guy.He just gets a little, uh. I dunno. Overprotective, I guess.”

Nick's smile had fully faded by this point. He kicked a little chunk of cracked pavement with his best up old sneaker.

“Have you told him you don't like it?” I asked.

“Ah, y'know,” Nick hunched his shoulders, “It’s not really worth complaining about.”

I sighed. Stupid Nick. What was so bad with just telling someone what you want? I opened my mouth to say something, but Nick stopped. 

“Oh, shit,” he said, “Is this it?”

I looked up. We were in front of another warehouse, in even worse condition than the last one. The walls were even more dilapidated, and even more wind whistled through the even greater number of holes. Jaggeder bars of rebar stuck out at odder angles, their sharper and rustier ends screaming with the threat of, like, some kind of super-tetanus. 

There had been nobody around the last warehouse. But there was even nobodier around this one.

“I told you,” I said smugly, “More abandoned.”

“Way more fucking abandoned,” Nick agreed begrudgingly.

The front entrance was blocked off by a bunch of fallen shelves, but we managed to find a side door we could sneak in through. Inside, the warehouse was dusty and dirty and, to be honest, pretty creepy. Despite all the holes in the walls, it was dim and musty inside. There were rows of rusted shelving everywhere, turning the vast space into a cramped maze. I felt a sense of deep foreboding as we walked in between the shelves, the sound of our footsteps swallowed up by the dust and the piles of mouldy cardboard boxes filling the shelves. I looked up, but the tall shelves disappeared into the murky darkness above. I froze, suddenly overwhelmed with vertigo. How high up did those shelves go? They didn't seem stable. What if they started to tip over? I would be crushed. There wouldn't even be one surviving finger to send to my father, even if a rescue team came looking. This place was probably too abandoned, after all…

Nick's face popped into view above me, “Hey, Nick. You good?”

“Ah!” I yelped, “Fuck, you're tall.”

“Holy shit, you're right,” said Nick, “Damn, really helping me discover new things about myself.”

“Thanks, I have lots of insights,” I muttered, “Did you know you're also annoying?”

“Nah, I think your vision must be distorted from all the way down there,” said Nick, “Anyway, look, I think that's your guy.”

He pointed through a gap in the shelves, between a stack of moldering cardboard and a leaking barrel of something stinky. Sure enough, there was light in that direction.

“Oh, good,” I said, not totally sure I believed it, “So, um. What do we do?”

“What?”

I lowered my voice, “You said this seemed sketchy, and I've never done, like, a sketchy deal before. Is there a common etiquette?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Nick, “Yeah, he’s probably gonna make us do drugs in front of him. And if he asks if you're a cop, you gotta tell him.*

“Don't be a dick,” I hissed, “I just don't want to do something that makes me seem like, you know. A narc.”

“A narc?”

“Jess said I looked like one the other day. At the protest. When I was wearing. Um.”

“Your creepy guy outfit,” Nick nodded, “Yeah, I see that. I’m glad you gave that up.”

I blushed. I had indeed stopped wearing men’s clothes again, even if I was still a bit too shy to wear dresses with Karl lurking around. I had dressed a little sporty today, so I would fit in at the track meet. White sneakers and a soft yellow tee that I had tucked into high waisted shorts. I felt cute, even if my bare legs seemed like a bad choice with all this rusty metal around.

“Thanks,” I said, “It was, you know. My father.”

“Fuck that guy,” Nick said, “He's a bitch.”

I giggled, “You mentioned. That was fun.”

“Shit,” Nick looked worried, “We never actually talked about it, did we? I hope I didn't fuck things up or anything, I just… he was being a real asshole to you...”

“...and that's your job,” I finished, “No, it was fine. He didn't really say anything about it. Just that he didn't want me to be friends with you.”

Nick laughed, “Well, good news for him.”

I giggled, “No shit.”

We smiled at each other, united by the acknowledgement of our mutual loathing. There was a clattering sound in the distance and Nick looked up.

“Okay, for real though,” he said, “We should let him know we’re here, so he doesn't freak out and shoot us or something.”

I gulped, “Right. Um. Would you mind…”

Nick nodded, then called out, “Hey, Kermit’s friend! We’re here to pick up the, uh, the thing! The package! Don't shoot us or whatever!”

He stood there for a moment waiting for a reply. When none came, he shrugged and looked at me.

“Yeah, that's probably good,” he said.

I nodded. I was glad I was here with an expert.

We weaved our way through the maze of shelves, heading for the light. Eventually we emerged, and found the guy we had been looking for.

He had set up a sort of campsite in the corner of the warehouse, with a tent and everything. Okay, just a tent. I wasn't sure what else camping entailed though. I guess a campfire, and he didn't have one of those. Just a big torch, one of those really large heavy duty ones, propped up on a pile of trash, pointing at the side of a squat little building that must have been the old manager's office. And he was painting. 

I didn't know much about the person we were here to meet. Kermit had been cagey about the details. It made sense he was an artist, though. I couldn't tell much more about him. He was wearing a brown hooded jacket, with the hood drawn over his head. His face was fully hidden too, under thick goggles and some kind of respirator mask. That was probably a good idea, with all the dust and mold and who knows what else floating around in here. Plus, of course, the paint. 

This guy was a graffiti artist, and he had clearly been at work for a long time. The entire wall was painted, and not just with some quick scrawled tag. It was an entire intricate mural, of a beautiful lush meadow, with a stream of crystal clear water. I was amazed at how much detail he had been able to capture using spray paint as his medium, with such poor lighting, in such an inhospitable space. I could see ripples on the surface of the water, ladybugs crawling along the blades of grass. It was a masterpiece, a painting of paradise hidden away in this musty forgotten building.

“Hey man,” said Nick, “We’re here for Kermit's package.”

The stranger didn't look up. Instead he shook his can and sprayed a few more thoughtful streaks of aquamarine paint along the surface of the water. 

“So, uh…” Nick looked around, “Is it around here somewhere, or…”

The stranger walked over to a duffel bag on the floor and reached inside. He didn't pull out a package, though. Unless Kermit’s package was a can of dandelion yellow spray paint, and he was okay with his friend using it to mist tiny droplets of sunlight onto the leaves of a bush in his mural.

Nick looked at me, frustrated. I took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

“I like your painting,” I said. The stranger paused and looked at me. “It's really…”

I hesitated. The painting was beautiful, sure. Impressive. But there was something more to it. A deeper, more elusive thing I could feel in the back of my mind.

“It's… scathing,” I said. The stranger tilted his head, curiously. “Like… the beauty that was destroyed to make room for this building. And a beauty you could only bring back because the building itself was left to fall apart.”

The stranger considered it, his face inscrutable under the thick lenses of his goggles. Then he nodded approvingly and tossed his spray can aside. He crossed to his tent and searched inside, then handed me a box, a little bigger than a shoebox, wrapped in nondescript brown parcel paper. It was heavy, and I tilted it carefully in my hands in case there was something delicate inside. 

“That's the package for Kermit Tsu?” Nick asked. The stranger ignored him again. I looked down at the box, and realized there was a delivery label on it, addressed to Kermit Tsu, direct to his dorm room, care of Great Oaks College.

“There's a label,” I said, “It has his full postal address.”

“Why not just mail it then?” Nick said. The stranger shrugged, then picked up another spray can and went back to work.

“Kermit did say it couldn't be mailed,” I said.

“It sure looks like it could be mailed,” Nick said.

“Maybe it's delicate,” I offered, “Or… volatile?” 

“Like a bomb?” said Nick.

We both looked at the stranger, but he was engrossed in his mural again.

“It's not a bomb, right?* I asked.

No response. 

Nick groaned, “Fucking Kermit Tsu.”

***

I was pretty sure the package wasn't a bomb, but I kept a very close eye on it anyway. I held it on my lap for the whole bus ride back to campus. 

Karl had covered for Nick, as promised, and he just gave me a sickly sweet “Well done, little guy!” when he saw our errand had been successful. But after that he pretty much left me alone. Karl had won his race as well, so the two of them would be going to state together, and they spent most of the ride home excitedly making plans. Although it's possible Nick was a little less excited about it than Karl. 

When we got back to campus, Nick said goodbye to Karl and the two of us went to fulfill phase two of our plan. Whatever was in Kermit’s package, it was definitely something shady. And since it was literally labeled with his name, it was solid evidence that he was up to no good, and he would be expelled, and all our troubles would be over.

We marched over to Lucy's office, flung open the door, and presented her with the package.

“I can't open this,” said Lucy. 

“What?” I yelped. Nick groaned and slumped back in his chair.

“This is mail,” Lucy said, “I can't open someone else’s mail.”

“Why not?” I whined, “Lucy! It's literally right there on your desk! Do you know how long I had to spend riding in a stupid bus full of stinky jocks to get this?”

“It's a federal crime, kiddo,” Lucy said.

“Fuck,” Nick groaned.

“Oh, come on!” I said, “He didn't even mail it! I had to carry it back here myself!”

Lucy held up her hands, “Look, Little Dom…”

“Just Dom, come on, we’ve been over this so many times…”

“...when I was your age, sure, I woulda risked a little jail time for some harebrained scheme,” Lucy shrugged, “Hell, I'm not gonna pretend I haven't been and out of the slammer a few times. But I'm a married woman. I got a stable career. I can't be risking another indictment.”

I crossed my arms and poured, “My scheme wasn't that harebrained.”

"And your career probably isn't that stable," Nick pointed out.

"Ouch," Lucy said, "But probably true. Would be good to make it to the end of the semester, at least."

"So what are we meant to do?" I said.

Lucy shrugged, “Give him the package and hope he does something crazy with it.”

“As university faculty, shouldn't you be encouraging students not to do crazy things with mysterious packages on campus?” I pointed out.

Lucy shrugged again, “Hey, it's not in my job description. Or maybe it is. I dunno, I pretty much just follow my heart at this point.”

“Well, this has been as enlightening as always,” I sighed and picked up Kermit's package. 

“It's the label,” Lucy said, “If it didn't have the postage label, I would open it up and we could see whatever the hell kinda crazy shit Kermit had you two cute little minions pick up for him. But postage label means post, which means mail, which my lawyers have advised me not to go snooping around in again.”

“Clearly,” I said, nodding at the pile of unopened letters sitting precariously on Lucy’s desk.

“Oh, those are for me, actually,” she said, “I'll get around to them at some point. Anyway, anything else I can help you boys with? Big Dom?”

“Uhh,” Nick sat up, “Maybe something.”

I looked at him curiously. What was this about? Was he actually asking for help with something?

“Oh, right!” Lucy said. She popped open her filing cabinet and pulled out another six pack of beer. 

I frowned, “So opening mail is too dangerous, but giving alcohol to a minor is fine?”

“Yep,” said Lucy.

“Pretty much,” Nick shrugged, “You wanna call dibs on some this time?”

I rolled my eyes. How childish. 

“Or I'll split 'em with Karl,” said Nick.

“I call dibs,” I said. 

***

In the end, I didn't even get to see what was inside the package. Kermit didn't use a phone (at least some of Big iPhone was based in truth, apparently) so I went to the studio to see if he was there. He wasn't, but I did find Miel sitting up on the stage, frantically typing away on her laptop.

“Miel!” I ran up to her excitedly, ready to hop up on the stage. I caught myself at the last second and stopped, gently placed the package on the stage, and then hopped up, landing heavily on my butt. I scooted over to her. “What are you doing?”

“Hey Dom,” she murmured distractedly, “Just finishing off… an essay…. about…. the… violent legacy of the East India Trading Company and the way its impact is still felt in modern politics…. and done.”

She submitted her assignment and turned to me with a heavy sigh. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. She smiled wearily, “Hi.”

“Hey,” I smiled back and gave her a soft hug, “You okay? I haven't seen you around the studio in a while.”

She nodded, perking up a bit, “I've been busy. Working on Kermit's project. It's been a ton of work, especially fitting it in with my classes and ACORN meetings and all, but it's gonna be worth it. I think.”

I frowned, “You think? He still hasn't told you what it is?”

Miel shook her head, “Not yet. But it must be something really important, or he wouldn't be putting so much work into it.”

“Um, seems like we’re the ones putting work into it,” I said, “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Miel shrugged, “Honestly, with everything going on in the world, it's crazy that anyone can sleep at night, you know? Anyway, I can tell Kermit appreciates it. I showed him what I was working on, um, which he said I probably shouldn't tell you about, but he was really pleased, and he gave me this smile…”

She trailed off, blushing. I felt torn, happy that things were going well with her crush, but guilty that I was going to be the one to ruin it.

“Well, I have this package I was meant to give him,” I said, “But if he’s not here…”

“Ooh!” Miel sat up, “I could give it to him! I need to talk to him tomorrow about, again, secret stuff. So I could just pass it on to him…?”

I could see a hopeful glow in her eyes, and I grinned. Honestly, it made more sense to give the package to Kermit myself. After all, the entire point of me running this errand was to prove to Kermit that I was trustworthy. Well, the actual point was to sneak behind his back and get him in trouble with the school, but since that didn’t work, I really should focus on proving I could be trusted. But Miel looked so excited at the opportunity to get some more praise from her crush, and she had been working so hard, and even if it still felt a little unfair to claim I was really her friend, I wanted her to be happy. So I gave her the package, and another hug, and headed home. 

When I got back to the dorm, I was very displeased to find Karl waiting inside, lounging on the couch with his shoes still on. The bathroom door was closed, and I could hear that Nick was showering inside.

“Hey Little Dom,” Karl drawled, “Long time, no see.”

“Hello, Karl,” I said, “You know, it's been a week. I get the bed again. So unless you two plan on sharing the couch, you’re probably best to go home.”

“Aww, you don't wanna share a bed with me, Little Dom?” Karl poured, “I'm devastated. But yeah, I'll head home. Dom and I were just hanging out. Doing boyfriend stuff.”

He smirked and stretched out luxuriously on my couch. I almost snapped at him to take his dirty shoes off, but then I thought better of it.

There was something more important Karl needed to hear, and knowing Nick, he was never going to bring it up himself. With Nick busy in the shower, this was probably the best time to talk about it. 

“Hey, Karl,” I said slowly, “This is kind of awkward, but…”

“Awkward? You?” Karl smiled condescendingly, “Don't be so hard on yourself, buddy. You're doing great.”

I ignored him and pushed forward. Be the bigger person. 

“I know you and Nick are really close,” I said, “But just so you know, he prefers to be kind of self-sufficient. So it's probably better not to get too, like, protective about him.”

Karl's smile dropped, “What?”

“Just cause, you know, I've spent a lot of time with him, sharing a room and all,” I explained, “So I noticed that when he's, like, uncomfortable or embarrassed or something, he prefers it if you just give him some space rather than trying to comfort him.”

Karl's eyes narrowed, “Wait.”

“Yeah, it's a bit annoying but–”

“No, fucking wait,” Karl said. He sat up fully and stared at me. There was no trace of the usual mocking sweetness in his voice. Instead it was flat and cold, like a steel blade. “Are you fucking telling me how I’m allowed to talk to Dom?”

“Well, kind of,” I said, “Like I said, I probably know him better–”

“You have to be fucking kidding,” Karl growled. I stopped. Karl got up off the couch and towered over me. Oh, shit. He was actually, genuinely mad. And shit, while I had always paid more attention to Nick’s body, Karl was also an extremely tall, fit college athlete. He leant down towards me and I shrank back in my seat. 

“Listen, you little fucking creep,” he snarled, his voice low and fierce, “I fucking played nice long enough. I put up with you fucking lurking around, sleeping on his couch, calling him dumb little nicknames, fucking following us on our fucking trip. I put up with it when you fucking came out as gay the second you knew we were dating, like I couldn’t tell what the fuck you were trying to do. But I let it go cause you don’t fucking threaten me. You're a weird little rich kid freak and Dom wouldn’t fuck you in a million years, so, whatever, have your pathetic little crush,. But don't try to fucking tell me how to talk to my own fucking boyfriend. Got it?”

My jaw dropped, “I'm… I don't…”

“Fucking got it, Little Dom?”

“Yes. I got it,” I glared at him, “But he doesn't consider you his boyfriend, just so you know.”

For a second I thought Karl was actually going to punch me. His fist curled and everything. But after a moment he dropped it and just sneered at me.

“Fuck the label,” he said, “Dom and I are together, and what we do is none of your fucking business. Enjoy your fucking bed.”

With that, he turned and stormed out the door. I sat there, shell-shocked, until Nick came out of the bathroom, wearing a towel and still dripping wet as usual. 

“Shit, Karl left?” he said.

“Yep,” I said numbly.

“That's cool,” Nick shrugged, “Probably good for us to have a night apart. Speaking of…”

I looked up. He grinned sheepishly.

“So, uh, thanks for putting up with the couch all week,” he said, “But… seeing as it's just the two of us here… would it be alright if I slept in the bed again? Like, you could as well, obviously. Like how we were doing it before.”

My eyes flickered to my overnight bag, and the sheer silky chemise waiting inside. I wanted to wear it again. And I wanted to sleep in my own bed. And, I realized, I wanted Nick in there too. 

I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why. I liked the company, and the warmth. I liked that I knew he wouldn’t be weird about me wearing a nightdress, that I wouldn’t have to act all masculine like I did around my father and around Karl, and that I wouldn’t have the sick feeling of being out of place that I had felt at Jess and Shawnee’s place. 

Karl would be pissed if he knew that Nick and I were sharing a bed, I was sure. But they weren’t actually boyfriends. And I wasn’t actually trying to steal Nick from him. I mean, sure, the way I felt about him was… complicated sometimes. But it wasn’t a crush. It was just…

Fuck it. Whatever. Like I said, I wanted to share my bed. So I did. Nick and I didn’t cuddle or anything. He even wore a shirt, although I’m pretty sure he snuck a look at my legs as I was climbing into bed. But then we stayed demurely on our separate sides of the bed and I drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of him breathing, feeling cozy and comfortable and smug in the knowledge that if his arm started hurting during the night I would handle it way better than Karl had. 

It was the best night of sleep I’d had in a long time. 

That's the chapter! Hope you HATED it actually. I hope you DIDN'T enjoy it. I'm evil. Boo! Scared ya!! Just kidding haha you gotta watch out for this type of mischief on tonight, the spookiest night of the year. Anyway.

I'm gonna split this up into four or five chunks when I start posting it on Scribble Hub. I was actually thinking I might post the first part fairly soon? Maybe in a week or two? It would only be the first 2K words or so. I dunno! Let me know if that feels unfair, I can keep the whole thing exclusive for a full month if you prefer!

Alsooooo I would just love to hear any of your thoughts about this chapter, positive or negative or suggestions or analysis or whatever! That's what tempts me to share it on SH after all, those sweet sweet comments. And I do love the comments youse all leave me :)

Next up will be Backup Girl Ch. 5, but no ETA on that because I haven't started writing it yet.

Ok love you bye!