Beach

[Here]

The Beach

By Nobody


"Whom did you say Melanie is bringing with her?" Mrs. Evans asked her husband, who was sitting, as usual, in his recliner. They were on the deck, the windows of which Mr. Evans and their sons had covered with screen window netting to keep out mosquitoes and other flying pests, waiting for the rest of the family to arrive. Their two oldest children, Gil and Howie, were already there. Melanie had just arrived with her husband and a stranger.

"Her step-nephew," Mr. Evans replied, his voice deep and rolling like the ocean. It was normally calm and somewhat soothing, but could, with much provocation, become angry and violent. "If there is such a thing. Robert thought the ocean-air would do him some good."

"I suppose that's all right," Mrs. Evans said with a sigh. "It was nice of you to tell me this now instead of when she called yesterday."

"Better late than never," Mr. Evans grinned, leaning forward. He called over his shoulder, "Jacob! Get out here and help with these bags!"

"What, Da?" Jacob appeared behind them. He was tall for his age, sixteen, and looked much like his older brothers, who looked like their father had at their ages: Thick dark-brown shock of hair, extraordinarily blue eyes, and pale freckles peppering his generally handsome face. Like his father and brothers, his mouth sprung easily into a smile. Some would say that Jacob's appearance was marred by being somewhat overweight. His stomach pushed against the back of his father's chair.

"Go get their bags," Mr. Evans ordered. Jacob looked at the car, and back at his father. Before he could speak, Mr. Evans sighed. "And tell Melanie I said to let you take her bags."

Jacob grinned and took off, down the stairs and over the shore grass.

"That girl needs to get over that attitude of hers," Mr. Evans said gruffly.

"Let her be," Mrs. Evans said, poking him playfully in his stomach. "You're too old fashioned for your own good."

"Humph."


"There's no need to take my bags, Jake, I'm not staying here," Melanie said. She was a petite young woman, in her mid-twenties, with long brown hair and green eyes. She added wryly. "I see you haven't lost any weight since I left, Jake. What did you do, pick up what I lost?"

Jacob blushed, red blossoming from his neck up to his forehead. His face was rounder than his brothers, his body shape somewhat softened by a layer of fat, and he sported a noticeable tummy. His body a somewhat pear-shape, the weight seeming to settle on his round stomach, broad hips, and wide buttocks. He usually, like now, made no effort to hide his chubbiness, wearing only a pair of very short cutoffs that barely covered his meaty thighs.

"Lay off him, Mel." That was Robert, Melanie's husband. He was the general perception of perfection: Tall, blonde, muscular. He'd been Mel's incentive for losing weight, she having refused to even speak to him until she considered herself presentable. "Considering that not too long ago, you probably weighed about the same."

Melanie sighed in good natured way, knowing that Robert had meant his comment in the same fashion. "You're right, Bobby, I know. I'm sorry, Jake. I just wish you'd lose weight before you wind up like I did."

Jake didn't reply to this, remembering how she'd been self-conscious nearing a point of a psychosis. She'd become virtually bulimic, but after their parents forced her to get some counseling, she'd gotten over that and become somewhat anorexic. Not irrationally so, but enough that her family still worried about her.

"Who's that pretty lady?"

Jake barely ducked out of the way as Gil came up behind him, sweeping Melanie into a back breaking bear hug. Bobby, putting a hand on Jake's shoulder, led him away from the reuniting siblings and to the other side of the car. Someone was leaning into the car, ample rear poking out the door.

"Where do I put these?" a voice asked from the car, smooth and clipped. A young black man, about Jake's age and general body shape, emerged holding several suitcases. He was dressed too warmly for the summer's heat, wearing long black jeans and a turtle-neck shirt. A pair of thick-lensed glasses graced his face. He was several inches shorter than Jake, but so were most other people his age.

"Iain, this is Jake," He said, introducing them. "Jake, this is Iain," Robert explained. "He's my nephew."

Jake looked at Bobby curiously.

"His sister married my uncle," Iain explained, shifting the large number of suitcases from hand to hand.

"I'll take some of those," Jake said, grabbing some of the haphazardly carried cases before they slipped from the other's grasp. Iain sighed appreciatively.

"Thanks," Iain said. "Now where do I take my bags?"

"I thought you guys were staying in a hotel," Jake said, now confused.

"Mel and I are," Bobby said. "She thought Iain might be better off here with you guys."

"Oh, okay," Jake said. "Go through the front door, through the living room, and into the hall. The room at the end on the left is mine."

"Okay," Iain said. He seemed to think for a second, storing the information away before heading up the walk. Mr. and Mrs. Evans greeted him cheerfully. Mr. Evans made him put down the suitcases to shake hands, and then sent him into the house.

"What do you think of the accent?" Bobby asked, grinning.

"Spooky," Jake said.

"Kind of," Bobby agreed, following the odd pair. "My sister-in-law told me that their mom watched The Browning Version through her pregnancy with him. When he was old enough, he watched it all of the time himself."

"Oh-Kay," Jake said, carrying the bags alongside Bobby. "That explains why I couldn't place his accent. It's not real."

"He's an odd one," Bobby admitted. "But he's pretty cool when you get to know him."

Mr. Evans hailed Bobby from the deck, so they went to greet him.


"Nice room," Iain said when Jake entered. "You read a lot?"

"Yeah," Jacob said, self-consciously running his finger over the books' spines. "I can tell by just looking at you that you like to read."

Iain grinned. "Open that suitcase."

"The really heavy one?" Jake asked, kneeling beside the large valise.

"You took it," Iain said pointedly. "I didn't ask you to."

"Thanks for the gratitude," Jake said sarcastically.

"6-2-2," Iain gave him the combination.

Opening the suitcase, Jake gasped. It was filled entirely with books. Specifically, books he had never read.

"Wow," he looked up at Iain. "You brought your whole library?"

"Only my favorites," Iain's Chesire grin widened.

"You are a scary person," Jake said honestly. "And stop smiling like that, you're scaring me."

Iain's grin vanished, replaced by his usual noncommital expression. He glanced over at the posters covering the walls. "Fighting video games, comics, and science-fiction/action movies," he said appraisingly. "I must say you have excellent taste, Mr. Evans."

"Jake," Jake corrected. "My Da is Mr. Evans. I'm Jake or Jacob at worst."

"Fine then," Iain thought for a moment. "Jacob."

"Do you use nicknames at all?" Jake asked incredulously.

"Not if I can avoid it," Iain replied. "My own name is anti-nickname as well. I just don't like nicknames."

"You'll need one in this family," Jake said, rubbing his chin. "What could we call you?" He thought for a moment, looking at Iain and his suitcases.

"That's it!" Jake said. "Book-boy. You'll be Book-boy."

"If you actually use that name outside of this room," Iain said, mock-seriously, "I may have to hurt you."

"Why?"

"Are you a top or bottom?" Iain asked, changing the conversation while turning to face the bed.

"Huh?"

"Bunk," Iain specified. "Top or bottom bunk?"

"Top," Jake replied, blushing at the thought he quickly dismissed. "Okay," Iain said, sitting down on the bed. He bounced up and down for a moment, testing its feel. "What do you do around here? For recreation, I mean."

"Oh, 'lot's of things," Jake said. "There's swimming, the arcade at the mall, and other stuff."

"A library?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "But that's not really a "fun" place."

"To most people, no," Iain shrugged. "But I was raised in and around libraries all of my life."

"I can show you where it is tomorrow," Jake said. He smacked himself on the forehead. "Tomorrow! I totally forgot about Kenton!"

"Kenton?"

"He's my best friend," Jake explained. "We're s'posed to hang out tomorrow. You'll probably like him. He's a lot like me."

"He's like you, so I'll like him," Iain said, following this logic. "So now I like you? I don't recall saying so."

"Do you not like me?" Jake asked, stepping closer and looking down to make direct eye contact. Iain turned slightly, looking somewhat embarrassed, or as close to it as possible for him. Although he didn't respond, at least not verbally, but Jake knew the answer.

"I thought so," he grinned. "Come on, I'll call him and ask him to come over tonight for supper."

Supper? Iain mouthed to himself as Jacob left the room.

"Are you coming?" Jake stuck his head back into the room.

Sighing, Iain climbed off of the bed and followed his host.


"This'll only take a minute," Jake said. "Have a seat anywhere."

Iain looked around the room before his eyes fell upon an enormous recliner.

"Just not there," Jake warned as Iain fell into a chair.

"Thanks for telling me," Iain's voice came from deep inside the couch's enveloping cushions. Only his legs were visible.

Jake dialed Kenton's number, mussing his hair as he waited.

"Kenton? Oh, hello Ms. Quaid. Can I talk to Kenton? Okay, I'll wait." At this point Jake cringed, and even Iain, inside the couch, could hear the woman calling her son. "Kenton. Supper?"

After a moment, Jake put down the phone. "He's coming."

"You called him, said 'supper', and he's coming?" Iain asked incredulously, sitting up from the near-suffocating recliner.

"He comes here to eat a lot," Jake explained. "His mom is usually working. Or on a date. He especially comes when my brothers are home. Mom cooks even more food than usual."

"Okay," Iain said, struggling to get up. "Can I get a hand here?"

"Sure," Jake put out a hand, which Iain grasped tightly as he was pulled bodily from the chair. But the chair seemed to want to keep him, as it pulled both of them into its embrace.

"You did that on purpose," Jake's voice was muffled in the chair.

"I did not," Iain retorted. Their bodies were pressed together, comfortably in the sense of warmth and physical comfort, but uncomfortably in an embarrassing sense. Neither would admit then, but they actually liked it inside the chair as they were. But at the moment, they struggled impotently to get out.

"What kind of chair is this, anyway?"

"Da bought it from a second hand store in town."

"Please tell me someone had that place shut down," Iain groaned.

Before Jake could reply, someone tugged on their legs, wrenching them from the chair's greedy embrace.

"When you said they'd get along," Gil, who had Jake's legs, grinned at Bobby, who had Iain's, "I didn't realize how well they'd hit it off."

Brushing lint off of their clothes (Jacob had slipped on a t-shirt when they were in his bed room), both boys grinned sheepishly, one blushing and the other glad he couldn't.

"We're just kidding," Bobby grinned as well. "We all know the power of the couch."

"We once we lost a neighbor's son," Gil said. Seeing Iain's expression, he said, "Seriously. We looked for him for hours. He'd fallen asleep in there."

"It's true," Bobby certified. "I was there. It was kind of scary."

Iain eyed the chair suspiciously as they headed for the dining room.


"So you're having the Fisherman's Ball on the beach?" Iain, now clad only in black trunks and a black t-shirt, asked Jake later than evening. Kenton had arrived for dinner, been hastily introduced to Iain, and left directly afterward. During dinner there had been very little dialogue, everyone being pretty hungry, so Iain didn't really meet Kenton.

Jacob was sitting on the dock, Iain standing beside him, watching the tide come in. The adults were inside, planning for the Fisherman's Ball.

"Yeah," Jake explained, dressed only in a pair of blue and red trunks. His soft beginner belly hung over the light material. "It's a regular event at the end of every summer. My family's done it every year for the last twenty years. There's a fishing contest and a big fish fry later on."

"Okay," Iain said. "I like fish."

"Good," Jake chuckled, "'Cause there's going to be lots of it."

"Do you enjoy eating?" Iain asked curiously.

"Sure do," Jake replied, fondling his ample stomach. Somewhere between the house and dock he'd lost his t-shirt. "I want to be a gainer."

"A gainer?" Iain asked obliquely.

"Sure," Jake looked up at Iain. "Someone who likes to eat and the feel of fat on themselves and other people."

"And FAs admire fat in others," Iain said as if by rote. "I know what a gainer is. I just didn't know you did."

"My library does have free internet access," Jake said proudly.

"My library has had internet access since the internet existed," Iain replied. "I'll bet your library has only just gotten it within the last few years or so."

Jake blushed.

"Just as I thought," Iain smirked in the darkness. Then his expression and voice returned to their normal impassivity as he fell to a crouch beside Jake. "What do you hope to attain as a gainer?"

"I want to weigh about twice what I weigh now," Jake said. "Fat enough to enjoy it and not be a total invalid."

After a short silence, Iain said, "FAing is enough for me."

"Really?" Jake asked. "I didn't think you'd be into gaining and stuff."

"You'd be surprised," Iain said with a small smile.

"Do you know," Jake said after another silence, "I've never told anyone that I want to be a gainer. Not even Kenton."

"Really?" Iain finally sat down beside Jake, not uncomfortably so, but close enough that they splashed each other's legs with water as they kicked the churning surface. "Why not?"

"Did you know that Mel used to be bulimic and anorexic?" Jake looked into Iain's eyes.

"Yes," Iain replied, glancing away. "But I wasn't aware that she ever stopped being anorexic though."

"I know," Jake sighed. "I don't think my parents would understand. They'd think I've gone insane the opposite way Mel did."

"In a technical sense, yes, you have," Iain pointed out. "Not insane, but gaining is also a relatively unhealthy lifestyle. Not like anorexia, but - "

"You sound like Mel," Jake said, trying not to sound as bitter and failing.

"No," Iain said, "I don't. You really can't rely on anything Melanie has to say about health or weight because she's kind of irrational. I'm just trying to give you a different perspective. Maybe Not so much change your mind as much as give you another angle of looking at it."

Another silence followed this.

"Do you realize," Iain said, "that you've known me less than twenty-four hours and told me something you've never even told your best friend?"

"You're . . . " Jake groped for a word, "you're different from anyone I've ever met. You're irrational and utterly reasonable. You're insane but the voice of sanity. You're - "

[Here]

"I get the point," Iain interrupted. "I'm just a sounding board. Sometimes people need to hear someone say something they already know inside but are trying to ignore. It's a just a natural talent."

"You are a very spooky person," Jake said, gazing at Iain with something not quite admiration.

"Thank you," Iain said. Another uncomfortable silence followed.

Apparently sensing that this conversation was going deeper than either of them really wanted it to, Jake stood up.

"How far out do you think you can swim?" Jacob asked, looking down at Iain.

"How far can I or how far will I?" Iain replied, standing.

"How far will you?" Jake decided.

"Probably not beyond this dock," Iain said. "Swimming at night is just asking for a shark attack."

"Shark attack?!" Jake started. He looked at Iain in surprise. A moment ago Iain was the voice of reason, and now he was talking about shark attacks? "Here?!"

"That's what they said in New Jersey in 1912," Iain said darkly. "Stranger things have happened."

"Well, I'm swimming," Jake said, preparing to jump into the water.

"Please, Jacob," Iain grabbed Jake's arm. "Be reasonable. Swimming at night is unadvisable."

"I do it all the time," Jake shrugged his hand off.

"Please," Iain implored, "don't do this."

Jake slipped into water with a mild splash.

Shaking a fist at the sky, Iain followed. Swimming was not one of his favorite activities, but for the sake of necessity, he'd learned how. He'd enjoyed swimming at the beach for the first few years. Then he discovered shark books. With color photos of shark attack victims. Swimming outside of a pool was something he avoided like the plague.

And now he was swimming to keep up with someone he barely knew who'd refused to listen to him. If he wasn't swimming strenuously, he would have sighed.

Iain caught up to Jake without realizing it until he bumped into him.

"Hey!" Jake turned, treading water. "Watch where you're swimming."

"I'm not playing," Iain said, looking about although he knew that the attack expected would come from below. "C'mon, this is really not fun."

"Come on," Jake laughed. "Lighten up! It's just the ocean."

Iain shuddered. If Jake knew what "just-the-ocean" had in it, he would not be so flippant about these things.

"You're really scared, aren't you?" Jake asked, somewhat apologetically. "Okay. We'll go back. I'll race you to the dock."

"Fine," Iain agreed. Their trip back to the dock was uneventful, although Jake nearly had a heart attack when a rope caught his ankle as he came out of the water. Iain laughed the entire way to the house.


"We have to get permission from the mayor in order to have the Ball?" Melanie asked in surprise. She and Bobby had arrived just in time for breakfast. Everyone was seated in the dining room. "Why?"

Mrs. Evans thought for a moment. "You know those weird laws, the really old ones, like you can't use old socks to dust furniture or you can't walk your llama without a leash?"

"Yeah," everyone at the table replied.

"It started out like that," Mrs. Evans explained. "Nobody knew about it or remembered it until now. Well, Mr. Mumford managed to dig it up in one of the old law books."

Everyone except for Iain and Robert groaned.

"It Would only be Mumford," Howie sighed.

"Who is Mr. Mumford?" Iain asked.

"He's an old codger - " Jake began, but was interrupted by a swat from Mr. Evans newspaper.

"Mr. Mumford happens to be the only man living in town who is allergic to fish," he explained. "It appears that the simple smell of it gives him hives."

"So why doesn't he just stay home?" Iain asked, stilled puzzled.

"We're having the ball on the beach," Mrs. Evans sighed. "Did you see the house not too far off from ours, just on top of the bluffs right over where we're planning to have the Ball?" Iain nodded. "It belongs to Mr. Mumford."

"Oh."

The phone rang and Melanie got up to get it.

"And he refuses to simply leave the area," Mrs. Evans threw up her hands in exasperation. "He'd much rather whine and complain and make things hard for us. Last year he threw fire crackers into one of the grills."

Melanie came back into the room, the cordless phone in hand. "Miss Trotwood down the road just called. Has anyone seen her cat, Betsy? She's a Siamese. Apparently she didn't come home last night."

Nobody had seen her, and said as much. Melanie returned to the phone. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Trotwood. No one here has seen her."

"So . . . he's crazy?" Iain decided in the following silence.

"Did you hear?" Mr. Evans asked his wife before she could respond. "About the shark?"

"Don't talk about sharks near Iain," Bobby grinned. "He's terrified of them."

"I have a healthy respect for them," Iain corrected.

"Then it's a good thing you haven't been swimming lately," Mr. Evans said. "Appears a fisherman caught an eight-foot long shark just off the dock earlier this morning."

Iain turned slowly to glare grimly at Jake, who had stopped in the middle of chewing his cold cereal.

"Wow," Gil said. "He really could work at a library."


After breakfast, Melanie, Howie, Mr. and Mrs. Evans went into town to talk to the mayor or take care of various errands. Bobby, Gil, Iain, and Jake were left at the house.

"There's nothing to do here," Gil groaned, flinging himself onto the couch.

"We can watch television," Bobby suggested, bodily shoving his brother-in-law off of the couch. "There's supposed to be a really good game on."

Gil and Jake said "Okay". Iain simply sighed.

"You don't like sports," Gil said. It was not a question. The front door slammed open as Kenton entered the room.

"H'lo, folks," he said grandly, spreading his arms wide. "Miss me?"

"I think," Iain said decidedly, "even if I'd known you previously, I wouldn't have missed you."

"Who're you?" Kenton stared at him for a moment. "Oh. You."

Jake sighed. He'd been exaggerating when he'd said that Iain would like Kenton. He'd known that they wouldn't hit it off. More than likely, Iain would hit Kenton's head off.

"Guys - "

Whatever Jake had to say was interrupted as a closet door slowly creaked open. A shadowy blob emerged from behind the closet door.

Iain stared in amazement at the cat that had entered the room. It's long fur was black and glossy, each hair sprouting wildly from its body, yet each in its proper place. It was just a little smaller than an average sized dog. It's tail was as long as the cat's body and almost raccoon-like in shape and size.

"What kind of cat are you?" Iain asked, instantly on his knees by the majestic creature.

"Da says he's a Norwegian forest cat," Jake said sighing, this time in relief. Gil took advantage of the distraction to turn on the television.

"Why bother with the fancy name?" Kenton interjected. "I say it's an over-sized alley cat."

"This is not a Norwegian forest cat," Iain said, stroking its large head. It purred, rubbing head against his hand forcefully. To the cat he asked, "Do you have a name?"

"The cat," Jake said. "Or just plain cat."

"Why does your ma let you keep that thing anyway?"

"'Cause he only eats here and occasionally sleeps on some furniture," Jake said. "'Sides, he doesn't have fleas and he's never shed. Not even when Howie tried to comb out some fur to get rid of him."

Kenton simply humph-ed in response.

Jake stared, entranced by how Iain had transformed in the cat's presence. Iain was smiling. Smiling! Jake had tried for hours to get Iain to smile the night before, and he usually could, actually. But Iain smiled simply because this cat existed.

"Amazing isn't it?" Bobby asked, standing behind Jake's chair. "He's a totally different person around cats. He's almost human around cats."

"Spooky," Jake said.

"The cat's letting him pet its stomach!" Kenton gasped.

Iain sat on the floor, stroking its stomach, talking to it the entire time. Kenton glanced at the furrows from the tip of his index finger to the base of his thumb. It was a reminder of his first and last attempt to rub the cat's stomach.

"The cat likes him, too," Jake said. Was he getting jealous? Of the cat? He turned back to the television, but his thoughts remained.


"Couldn't you hire someone to do this?" Gil asked his mother as he placed the streamers carefully on the light post. "You hired professionals that one time."

"No," Mrs. Evans handed the end of a streamer up the ladder. "You remember what happened last time. Despite detailed instructions, they messed everything up. We've done this before and will do it again."

Gil groaned dramatically but continued putting up streamers. The entire family was helping to put up streamers, Iain and Kenton included.

"Jacob, don't you think we could do without the streamers?" Iain looked down at Jake, who was holding the base of the ladder from the opposite side. Iain was wearing one of Jake's old t-shirts and sweat pants, as was Jake. Although Iain had gone for a fairly good-fit, Jake had just grabbed a pair, probably the smallest of his old clothes, his bellybutton and lower stomach quite visible. "I mean, aren't the lights enough?"

Jake just shook his head.

"It's tradition," Kenton put in.

Iain's look said exactly what he thought of tradition.

Jake gave him a look. Can't you just put up the streamers?

Iain rolled his eyes. Fine.

"What was that?" Kenton asked. Iain and Jake turned to look at him questioningly. What was what?

"That!" Kenton said. "Speak out loud if you're going to have a conversation. It's almost as rude as whispering."

Iain and Jake shrugged.

"Stop it!" Kenton said.

"Fine then," Iain sighed. He looked at Jake and grinned. We'll just do it when he's not around.


"Hey, Iain!" Jake called. He walked up to Iain as fast as he could with a box full of decorations.

Iain turned away from untangling wires to face him. Yes?

"I kind of need your help with something," Jake said. "After we're done working today."

Iain looked at him, an eyebrow raised. What exactly do you have in mind?

Jake blushed. It's kind of private.

Ah. Iain's eyes widened. I see. He nodded. After work then.

Jake beamed. Thanks.

Iain shrugged in response. It's not like I have anything better to do.

It was around four o'clock in the afternoon when Mrs. Evans let everyone quit. Bobby and Melanie went back to their hotel, while Gil and Howie went to visit some friends about town. Kenton went home to help his mother clean house. Mrs. Evans had some things to discuss with some town officials and Mr. Evans was asleep.

"What exactly did you need my help with?" Iain, who had changed into his own clothes, asked as he followed Jake to his bedroom.

"You'll see in a moment," Jake said. "Just wait here."

Iain sat down on the bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling. In the past week he hadn't even noticed them. He hadn't seen stickers like those for years. Before he could stand up to get a better look, Jake reentered the room, panting slightly.

"Here it is," He said, grinning, dropping his burden on the floor.

Iain stared skeptically at what Jake had put on the floor and then back up at Jake. "A cardboard box? Is this some sort of hint? Am I supposed to start packing?"

"No!" Jake laughed. "Open it."

Still looking at Jake, Iain knelt on the hardwood floor and flipped up one of the flaps.

[Here]

"Food?" Iain asked, taking in the various sweets and snacks. Pastries of various shapes and size, a frozen confection, Iain wasn't sure if it was ice cream or sherbert. Other treats were littered through the container. "You need help emptying the box of food? Eating is not something I enjoy doing too much."

"Really," Jake eyed Iain's belly, over which his shirt stretched taut. He remembered that Iain hadn't dressed quite like that when he'd first arrived. He seemed to be loosening up a bit. "But seriously, do you remember our conversation on the dock?"

"Do you mean shortly before you tried to get us killed?" Iain asked. "Or some other time?"

"I apologized for that," Jake said, sitting down on the floor on the other side of the box. His belly sagged below the shirt's hem and between his legs as he stretched his legs out in front. "We don't normally get sharks around here."

"Never mind," Iain said. "Yes, I remember. You want to be a gainer."

"Well," Jake really blushed as this point, "I was wondering if you would be willing to be my encourager?"

Iain started at this. This was definitely unexpected. He thought for a moment. Jake watched him hopefully.

"Do you really want me as an encourager?" Iain asked carefully.

"Would I ask you if I didn't?" Jake looked at him. "I think it would help me as a gainer. You did say that you were a FA."

"I know," Iain said thoughtfully. "I remember."

There was silence after this.

Jake moved so that he was supporting himself on his arm, his legs tucked up beside him. "Have you decided?"

Iain looked up at him, face solemn. "This is a very big decision, Jacob. As much as I would like to be your encourager, I have to think it over."

Jake's face fell. He'd expected this to turn out differently. "Why don't we try it and see how you like it?"

Iain looked at him again, but Jake couldn't recognize the expression on his face. Was this how Iain looked when he was torn between decisions? He couldn't tell.

"All right," Iain agreed. "We'll try it."

He was surprised when Jake's face didn't light up the way it usually did.

"Are you sure you want me to be your feedee?" Jake asked, mimicking Iain's inflection perfectly.

"That was not funny," Iain said in mock anger. "Now shut up or I'll stuff something in your mouth." Jake's face brightened.

"How exactly does one go about 'feeding' one's gainer?" Iain asked, looking at Jake.

"I thought you would know," Jake admitted. "I'm not really sure."

Iain thought for a moment. "Why don't we simply try what's most comfortable for you?"

"The bed?" Jake gestured.

"That is unsanitary," Iain pointed out. "Crumbs get in blankets and sheets and attract unpleasant vermin."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone under forty use the word 'vermin' before," Jake said, smiling. "But I think you're right. What if we take off the sheet and shake out the mattress when we're done?"

Iain mulled this over. "I suppose that ought to work. Help me get this stuff off."

"Where are we going to put it?" Jake asked.

"The top bunk," Iain replied, tossing a pillow up. Jake followed his example. Soon the mattress was stripped of bedcovers.

"We're ready for liftoff," Jake said.

"Just get on the bed," Iain said, feigning exasperation. Jake obeyed, climbing slowly onto the bed. When he was settled comfortably, he struggled to remove his shirt, but with his size, position and location, seated with his back against the wall, it was fairly difficult. He looked at Iain plaintively.

Iain sighed and glanced pointedly at Jake. You can't get it off by yourself? Jake shook his head. Sighing again, Iain crouched under the top bunk, placing his hands under Jake's love handles and, taking careful grip of the shirt's hem, began to pull the shirt up. It got caught under a few budding rolls, but Iain quickly got it free.

"Thanks," Jake said, grinning sheepishly as he fondled his newly freed belly.

"Don't mention it," Iain grunted as he lifted the box onto the bed beside Jake before seating himself next to it.

"This is pretty heavy," Iain looked into the box. "How much did this cost you again?"

"I bought it cheap," Jake said. "It costed less than it looks. Our grocery store only just started getting health-food stuff, and the manager doesn't think much of it, so he sells it less expensively than most places would. And actually, a lot of it isn't bad-for-you-fattening, just fattening."

"Both are good things," Iain said, meticulously opening the pastry's plastic bag. He almost makes it a kind of ritual, Jake thought.

"You can just rip it open if you like," Jake said, trying not to get impatient.

"I'd rather not," Iain removed the pastry from its container. "I'd like to avoid a mess if I can. Here."

He held the oblong delicacy to Jake's lips, who licked it hesitantly before biting into it. Iain's hand jerked back automatically and the desert fell onto Jake's belly.

After he'd swallowed the piece he'd bitten off and licking the icing from his lips, Jake asked, "Why'd you let go? I wasn't going to bite you."

"I know," Iain said. "I'm sorry. I was acting on reflex. Would you like me to get another?" He reached into the box, but Jake stopped his hand.

"No, don't worry about. I'll finish this one."

Iain stared at the remaining piece of pastry as if it crawled out of a swamp and burped at him.

"It only fell on my stomach!" Jake said. "It's fine."

"If you say so," Iain said, plucking it from Jake's stomach. He placed it carefully upon Jake's lips again and this time Jake almost inhaled it from his grip.

"Is that better?" Jake asked.

"A little," Iain admitted. He unwrapped another pastry, and this time Jake's mouth was open and ready.

"This isn't very interesting," Jake said, his mouth full. This being after about fifteen minutes of feeding.

"If you don't like it," Iain said, "we can stop at anytime."

"Let's just keep going," Jake said hurriedly. So they continued.

Half an hour into feeding, Jake began giggling at every thing. Thirty-five minutes into feeding and he started trying to bite Iain's fingers as he placed the food in his mouth. Iain raised an eyebrow at his behavior, but said nothing.

After about forty-five minutes of non-stop feeding, Jake tried to lick the icing and crumbs from Iain's fingers. Iain ignored the sensation in his lower regions and kept on.

"I think it might be in your best interest if I stopped soon," Iain said, placing a cookie in Jake's mouth. "You're beginning to worry me."

"Why is that, Book-boy?" Jake asked, his mouth full.

"Because you're getting a little slap-happy," Iain said, unwrapping another oblong icing filled pastry.

"What do you mean slap-happy?" Jake asked, eating part of the desert.

"You're in a daze - " Iain said. Before he could continue his list of symptoms, he found his mouth full of pastry.

Realizing that the pastry Jake had bitten a piece of off was now in his mouth, Iain chewed while glaring at Jake, who giggled childishly.

"I do not eat after other people," Iain said after swallowing it.

"You just did," Jake pointed out. "And you're fine."

"You're obviously suffering from a sugar induced high," Iain said, ignoring Jake's comment and plaintive expression as he returned the empty wrapper in the box and closed it. Lifting the box on his lap, he stood and turned to Jake, who stared up at him, crumbs and icing covering his lower face.

"I think," Iain said, "that I shall continue as your encourager." Then he realized that Jake was asleep. "I'll tell you again when you wake up."

Iain stared at Jake for a moment, then decided to clean up. He reopened the box and removed the empty wrappers, tossing them into the trash can in Jake's room. He found some paper towels in the bathroom closet. After moistening them a little, he returned to the room where he carefully wiped the crumbs and icing from Jake's pouting lips and round cheeks.

He was about to throw it away when he noticed more crumbs on Jake's somewhat distended gut. He carefully wiped them off the smooth curving surface. He put down the paper towel and placed his hands on the belly he'd just helped to fill. Running his hands over the rotund belly and along his love-handles, he kneaded Jake's belly lightly before realizing how ill-advised his actions were.

But I could get used to doing this, he thought as he pulled one of the blankets from the top bunk and tucked Jake into it. Sighing, he sat down at the desk and began reading one of Jake's books.


Iain and Jake stood in the small grocery store. Both pushed a cart before him.

"Remember," Iain said for the umpteenth time. "You are shopping for your family and I'm shopping for you. This is one of the conditions for my encouraging. No more sugar highs. Ever."

"I'm sorry," Jake said, running his hands through his hair. "I really didn't think about all that sugar."

"I noticed," Iain said dryly. "Have you considered other avenues? Pizza and Chinese food are things you can buy, in bulk, without anyone really noticing. Italian food is also satisfying."

"That's a good idea," Jake admitted. "Do we order it delivered?"

"We could pick up Chinese food," Iain said thoughtfully. "But we can buy frozen pizzas here."

"That's sounds good-" Jake said.

"JAKEY!"

Iain and Jake turned around to see a slim figure running toward them.

"Oh no," Jake groaned, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Hello, Jakey," the girl stopped before them. She looked at Iain as if she'd noticed him for the first time. "Who's this?"

"Gwyn, meet Iain," he said. "Iain, meet Gwyn. Iain is staying at my house for the Fisherman's Ball."

"Nice to meet you," Gwyn extended a hand, which Iain took carefully. "I'm Jake's girlfriend."

"That's interesting," Iain said, glancing sidelong at Jake, who shook his head wildly.

"Jake's a shy one," Gwyn said, laughing. "But he's my shy one and that's what really counts, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Iain replied, smirking slightly as he glanced at Jake. "How long have you been dating?"

"A few years now," She gushed. "Two or three. He asked me to a date in the eighth grade and I've been with him ever since."

Jake continued to silently deny it as Gwyn continued to describe their relationship's history.

"Well, Ms. Gwyneth," Iain said. "We're in a bit of a hurry. Sorry to run out on you but - "

"Don't worry," Gwyn cut him off. "I've got plenty of time to talk to you guys while you shop."

She launched into a description of her and Jake's boating excursions last spring while Jake and Iain, groaning internally, continued shopping.


"Next time I see that girl," Iain said, flopping back in a chair in the living room, "I'm going to flat-out run. Proprieties be dratted. I've talked to - no, I've listened to her three times this week and it's been more than enough for infinite lifetimes."

"Gwyn's a bit of a handful," Mrs. Evans admitted, sitting across from him to write out some invitations on the coffee table. "But she means well."

Jake, who sat down next to her, made a disgusted noise at this. Mrs. Evans looked at him sharply.

"One of these days," Mrs. Evans pointed out, "you will appreciate Gwyn's devotion. She cares for you, Jake. Give her a little credit."

Jake sighed, knowing that, in a way, she was right.

"Mom's right, Jake," Melanie entered the room. "If you get any fatter, Gwyn will deny that you ever were her boyfriend."

Iain, Jake, and Mrs. Evans turned to her in surprise.

"Melanie!" Mrs. Evans gasped. "That was outright rude."

"But true," Melanie said bluntly. "I should know. I've been there. This is the worst I've ever seen you, Jake. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring Iain here. You've gained more weight in the last two weeks than in the last year and a half!"

Jake and Iain glanced at each other. Did she know that Iain had been feeding Jake for the last week and a half?

"If I didn't know better," Melanie continued, "I'd almost think that Iain was fattening you up like some sort of farm animal."

"That's enough, Melanie." Mrs. Evans asked her, still writing out invitations. "Besides, if he doesn't mind being overweight, why should you?"

"Because!" Melanie said. "No one should look like that. I know what it's like, Ma. All that fat. It's horrible."

"I don't really mind it," Jake said, sitting down near his mother. He rubbed his protruding belly, a line of which was visible from below the hem of his now too-small t-shirt. "I rather like it."

"It's . . . " Melanie grasped for the word, "it's disgusting!"

"Everyone's got a right to an opinion," Mrs. Evans said, still not looking up from her invitations. "You've had yours'. Now shut up and help me write these invitations."

Now angry, Melanie sat down beside her mother and took a pile of invitations.

"I've already done those, dear," Mrs. Evans said, not looking up. "The other pile."

Melanie picked up another pile.

Mrs. Evans sighed. "Why don't you go wash some laundry, dear?"

Almost growling, Melanie stomped out of the living room.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Iain asked Mrs. Evans, who only smiled mischievously, as always continuing her invitation writing.

"Now that Mel's gone," Mrs. Evans asked, still not looking up. "Are you fattening Jake up like livestock?"

Jake and Iain stared at her in surprise.

"Oh, come off it," She said without anger. "You've been to both Chinese food restaurants in town regularly, the pizza delivery boy has shown up three times this week, and there's a box of non-perishables under your beds. It's all going somewhere and it looks like it's mostly going into Jake.

"So, are you fattening Jake up intentionally?" She repeated.

Heads hung like small children caught in the middle of some naughty act, both boys replied, "Yes."
"I know that you're both big boys," she stopped to admire her pun, "and that you wouldn't do anything foolish. But try not to do anything dangerous, okay?"As it dawned on them that she was okaying the gaining or whatever she thought they were doing, Jake grinned. "Of course not, Mom."

"Okay, as long as we understand each other," Mrs. Evans smiled. "Now, what would you like for dinner? I've got some peas and lamb chop in the fridge."

"That sounds good," Iain said.

"But they're frozen," she continued. "I know that Gil likes everything fresh. Ate frozen food for twenty-two years before telling me a thing. Do either of you have a problem with frozen food?"

"No," both boys said at the same time.

"Good," Mrs. Evans said, getting up. "I'm going to start on dinner. The groceries have been put away?"

"Yes," Iain said.

"Jake never bothers to do that," Mrs. Evans said appreciatively. "I could get used to this."


"Dinner's almost ready," Mrs. Evans said to Jake and Iain as she walked past the television screen on her way to the front door.

"Okay," Jake and Iain replied simultaneously.

She opened the screen door and stepped into the warm ocean air.

"I heard you tell the boys," Mr. Evans rumbled.

"I know." She slid into her deck chair beside his recliner. She turned to face him, but he stared out into the ocean. "Have you noticed Jake and Iain?"

"Of course," Mr. Evans replied, still watching the ocean. "Well, I notice Jake. Usually you don't take notice of Iain too much."

"Have you noticed their interactions?" Mrs. Evans asked again. "How they act toward each other?"

Mr. Evans thought for a moment. "They seem like healthy, if overweight, normal teenage boys to me. What do you see?"

Mrs. Evans sighed. "If you had noticed, I wouldn't have to tell you. They're in the living room as we speak, watching television. Take a look."

Mr. Evans leaned over the arm of his chair and gazed into the house.Iain and Jake were lying on the floor, watching television. Jake was lying perpendicular to the television screen. Iain rested directly facing it, his head and shoulders resting on Jake's notable belly, which pooled slightly on the floor. A box of cookies sat beside Iain. As they watched, he plucked one of the cookies from the box and without turning placed it in Jake's open mouth.

"What about it?" Mr. Evans asked.

"Don't they seem . . . " Mrs. Evans fumbled for a word, "close, to you?"

"Just a couple of teenage boys," Mr. Evans shrugged, returning his gaze to the ocean.

"You haven't noticed that they've grown increasingly intimate over the past few weeks?"

"Not particularly," Mr. Evans said. "They're just a couple of teenage boys who favor each other."

"So you knew," Mrs. Evans sighed, this in time relief. "You don't seem too upset about it."

"Should I be?"

[Here]

"You near had a coronary when you found out that Gil was dating Christine," Mrs. Evans reminded him.

"They were sleeping together without any form of protection," Mr. Evans pointed out. "I want my grand-babies conceived and born within marriage. In this case, I don't have to worry about any grand-babies. So why should I be upset? I'm surprised that you - "

"I was worried that you would disapprove," Mrs. Evans laughed. She glanced back into the house. "I think it's kind of cute."

"The funny thing is," Mr. Evans chuckled to himself, "I don't think either of them knows what they want."


During dinner that night, Mr. Mumford called to ask the Evans to keep their cat away from his house. He'd been prowling and yowling around it for the past several nights and Mr. Mumford wanted it stopped. Mr. Evans apologized, but explained that the cat only slept at their house, they didn't really own him. Mr. Mumford, deflected once more, gave up and hung up.


When the alarm went off, it sounded like it was right next to Jake's head. He groaned as he opened his eyes and glanced up at the head board of his bed.

The alarm clock was right next to his head.

Sitting up, he looked over the side of the bed. Iain was seated at the desk, dressed and probably showered, reading a magazine. "Good morning, Book-boy."

Iain glanced up at him. "Good morning, Jacob. Did you enjoy your rest?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "But I thought I put the alarm clock on the desk."

Mrs. Evans, wanting the pair to get up early, told Jake to set his alarm clock. Jake had done so, placing it on his desk the previous night.

"You did," Iain replied. "I woke up a little earlier and I put it up there while I was using the desk. I thought it would be more useful up here."

"You just didn't want it to annoy you when it went off," Jake said, tossing a pillow at Iain's head. Iain dodged, and the pillow hit the desk.

"Was that really necessary?" Iain asked.

"Yes," Jake said, sliding out of bed. As he was dressed only in now-too-small boxers, Iain discreetly returned to his magazine. After a few moments and a loud thump, Jake stood beside him."Whatcha reading?" He asked, leaning slightly on Iain's shoulder . Iain flipped the cover up slightly so that he could continue reading as Jake looked at the cover.

"Oh," Jake said. "Where'd you get that from?"

"Found it," Iain said simply.

"Where?"

"Gilbert's room."

"I can't believe it," Jake said, leaning against the bed for support.

"That Gilbert had one of these?" Iain suggested.

"That you read it," Jake corrected. "You must be the only guy in existence who would actually read a Playboy magazine."

"Unlikely," Iain replied. He turned his gaze up to meet Jake's gaze. "You mean you've never glanced at one of these?"

"NO!" Jake said, blushing deeply. "Well, yeah. Once. But Da caught me at it and gave me a whipping."

"Why?" Iain asked. His parents would probably be overjoyed if he took to reading Playboy. A sign of healthy young manhood. He gave a mental sigh.

"He said he didn't want me to think of women like that," Jake said. He explained before Iain could ask. "He told me that I shouldn't see women as things instead of people. That I shouldn't think of them the way they are in magazines like that. No matter how tasteful. And I haven't."

Iain nodded his head at this. "Fascinating."

Jake gave Iain a sidelong glance before continuing. "I guess so." He looked at the clock. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay," Iain replied, not looking up from the magazine. He glanced up momentarily to see Jake pad out of the room, towel around his waist. His eyes caught on the sway of Jake's round rump underneath the fluffy towel and followed the cheeks out the door. As he returned his gaze to the magazine, Iain could hear him waddle down the hall and water running in the bathroom. Conflicting ideas and half-thoughts danced through his mind. A conclusion nearly formed, but he finished the magazine and it was forgotten.

He got up, sighing again. Slipping into the hall he entered Gil's room, or the guest room. He slid the magazine half under the rug. He'd seen the corner of the magazine as he'd passed the open door the other day. Curiosity moved him to read it. It hadn't been particularly interesting. It took him a short while to make it appear as it had when he'd found it.

In the hallway, the Cat sat grooming its long bushy tail. Iain stooped to watch it for a moment, and it responded by stopping to stare at him belligerently. Excusing himself, Iain made his way to Jake's bedroom.

Iain stepped into the open door stopping and turning to make sure the door closed behind him. When he turned to face the room, he found himself face-to-face with Jake, fresh out of the shower.

Iain, of course, unthinkingly glanced down.

"Oops!" Jake said, grabbing his towel to cover himself a fraction of a second too late. Jake blushed, smiling sheepishly and Iain felt the blood rush up his face, and down to other areas, as he silently turned around. A flustered smile tweaked the edge of his mouth. He had read or heard somewhere that overweight men were not so . . . well endowed because fat produced estrogen, or something like that. But apparently Jake was the exception to the rule, as Iain was most definitely impressed by Jake.

There were sounds of Jake getting dressed behind him. Finally, Jake tapped him on the shoulder. Iain turned to see that he was still grinning. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right," Iain replied. "I should have knocked."

"I would have just said come in," Jake said. "Besides," He put a hand on Iain's shoulder, "we're friends."

Iain nodded in agreement, still not quite making eye contact.

"Come on," Jake said. "Lets go get breakfast."


"Do you want to go the library today?" Iain asked Jake, who was sitting on the floor watching television and eating a bowl of cold cereal.

"You want to go there?" Jake asked. "There's a not a lot to do there. And 'sides, it's been a long time since I've been there."

Iain looked at him as if he said that he frequently bathed in manure.

"Maybe you forgot, but we were supposed to go the day after I got here."

"Oh, that's right," Jake said thoughtfully. "But I have a lot of other things to do. Besides - "

Iain simply looked at him.

"All right," Jake sighed. "I'll get a shirt on and we can go."

Iain stopped glaring, and allowed one tenth of a smile on his face. Jake finished putting his shirt on and looked at Iain.

"Smile or it's no deal," Jake said, grinning.

Unable to help himself, Iain looked away as he smiled.

"Lets go," Jake said, tossing on a light jacket.


"I've decided something," Jake said as he and Iain left the house. "No more eating."

"Why not?" Iain replied, mildly surprised.

"The Ball is tomorrow night," Jake replied. "They have the pie-eating contest, and I want to be hungry."

"I see," Iain said, nodding his head in understanding.

They were approaching the library. It was an old building with a very classical appearance. Iain appreciated its style as he had upon first viewing it.

"It's a beautiful building," Iain said, "you don't come here often?"

"Only for homework assignments," Jake shrugged. "And sometimes to get away from Gwyn. I like to buy most of my books."

Iain shook his head sadly. "Nobody goes to libraries." He stopped beside the library entrance. "I can go in alone if you like."

"Don't worry about," Jake said, stepping past him and opening the door. "I haven't been in here in ages."

They entered the building and both looked around as if for the first time.

"This is nice," Iain smiled.

"What happened?!" Jake exclaimed, rushing up to the front desk.

"Hello, Jacob," a tall slim woman replied, a chuckle in her voice. She wore glasses and had her hair up in a bun. She was the epitome of a librarian, only younger. "Hello, Iain."

Jake looked back and forth between the two of them. "How do you-"

"I've heard," she replied cryptically.

"Hello, Ms. Adams," Iain replied. "It's nice to meet you formally." He extended a hand, which she shook genteelly.

Turning to Jake, Iain explained, "You get up pretty late. Both Ms. Adams and I like to walk in the early mornings sometimes. I met Ms. Adams a few weeks ago and we started to talk. So we sometimes walk together in the mornings and talk about books and things. We've also been looking for her cat, Hephzibah, whose apparently disappeared."

"Iain walks me to work," Ms. Adams explained. "But he said that you told him you would take him, so he never actually entered the building."

Jake wasn't sure whether to be jealous or happy, and decided on happy.

"Now," Ms. Adams said. "About the changes. Since you've last been here, Jacob, we've gotten a new director. She's made a lot of changes in circulation and policy. Because of her, our budget has expanded phenomenally." She handed both of them a piece of paper. "Here is a list of the alterations."

"Thank you," both said together. They walked over to one of the nearby tables and sat across from each other.

"It seems like your library has been updated a bit," Iain said. "No more card-catalog. Merging of all fiction books. Separation of children and general videos. This new director has been busy."

Jake huffed. "I liked it better before."

"Sometimes change is a good thing," Iain replied. He got up and headed for the stacks.

"Where are you going?" Jake asked, getting up behind him. "You've never been here before."

"I hate it when people ask where things are instead of looking first," Iain explained. "Besides, libraries are like houses. While they have different set-ups and appearances, they have all of the same components. I'll find what I'm looking for soon enough."

"Don't forget that we have to prepare for the Ball today," Jake reminded him, hurrying to catch up. "But we have plenty of time."

"An hour?" Iain said. "I'll need a day at least. It's too I didn't get to come here sooner."

"Sorry about that," Jake said, truly apologetic. "We've been so busy doing other things."

"It's okay," Iain replied. "We've had fun doing other things."

"Thanks," Jake grinned. He looked around. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"These," Iain said, stopping so suddenly that Jake's stomach bumped into him, nearly knocking him over. Iain turned, his stomach directly against Jake's much larger. Placing his hands on the sides of Jake's stomach he playfully pushed him away. "Careful with that. You could hurt someone."

Jake laughed, but then asked, "What are 'these'?"

"These," Iain said regally, "are the 600s. This section has books on health, electronics, cars, pets, cooking, appearance and occupational subjects. We're looking up health and appearance."

"You look fine to me," Jake said honestly.

"Thank you," Iain said, still glad that he couldn't blush. "Actually, and don't take this the wrong way, I had these in mind for you."

Jake looked at Iain quizzically. "Is there something wrong with the way I look?"

"No," Iain replied. "You want to be a gainer, right?"

"Yes," Jake said. "You know that."

"Do you want to be a healthy gainer?" Iain continued.

"You mean there are books on gaining here?" Jake asked, beginning to understand.

"No," Iain laughed. He glanced up and down the shelves as he walked along. "You'd probably have to order those special. I'm looking for books like . . . this."

He snatched a book off of the shelf and handed it to Jake.

He read the title aloud. "'Health for Husky Men'. I didn't think about looking it up in the library."

"Nobody does," Iain replied, taking another book off the shelf from the other side and put it in Jake's hand.

"Building Bulk," Jake read. "This is about body-building, not gaining."

"Yes," Iain replied, still scanning the shelves. "I know. It helps to work out. It may help keep you movable as you get heavier."

"Oh," Jake said, nodding. "Should we get any of these other ones?"

"No," Iain ran his finger down a shelf of body building books. "Either they say the same things or they conflict with each other."

"Okay," Jake said.

"Do you see anything else you want?"

"Hmm," Jake said, a closed hand to his chin as he turned to face the other shelf. "This one."

"A Dietary Guide to Increasing Muscle Mass," Iain nodded approvingly. "An excellent choice, Jacob."

They picked out a few more books before Iain decided that it was time to go. Jake's card had expired, but Ms. Adams updated it quickly enough. Iain wanted to get a card, but he had to have a permanent address in town, which he didn't. She checked out the books for them and waved goodbye as they left.

"Thanks for suggesting this, Iain," Jake said, smiling as usual. "I promise to come by the library more often."

"I'll hold you to that," Iain grinned mischievously.

As they left the library, they were surprised to see the cat walking out of an alley, a large pigeon held in its jaws. Bemused, they looked at the cat, who stared back at them, before returning to the alley to finish its meal. Iain and Jake exchanged glances, eyebrows raised, and headed back to Jake's house to help with preparations.Last minute preparations mostly included setting up the tables and torches both of which might have gotten damaged if it had rained since they'd initiated their plans.

"I wonder where Kenton is?" Jake said as he and Iain set up one of the tables.

Mrs. Evans looked up from where she'd been repairing some broken chairs. "Didn't I tell you? He called and said he had an engagement he couldn't get out of. Apparently he scheduled it before the invitations went out. He'll be here for the Ball itself, though."

"Oh, okay," Jake said. "Good."

"I take it Kenton usually helps?" Iain asked.

"Yeah," Jake said. "Every year that I have, anyway, which is five or six years now. I can't imagine that he forgot that the Ball was planned for today. Everybody knows long before the invitations go out."

"Curious," Iain said, not voicing his thoughts on the matter. He changed the subject. "This is the last table. Mrs. Evans, should we get the potted palm trees now?"

"Yes," She said. "Don't forget to make sure they're exactly on the markers we placed."

"Of course," Iain and Jake said in unison, as they walked away.

The town had set up the podium for the announcements, while Gil, Howie, and their friends had assembled the sound system for the Deejay. Before long, everything was set up, except for the food. The ladies of the town would take care of that as everyone arrived with their own dishes.

So, at five o'clock the townsfolk slowly made their way to the Evans section of the beach. Food and additional lawn chairs were brought as well as relatives and friends from out of town.

Iain came to understand just how large an event it was. Not nationally, maybe, but on a local scale it was definitely newsworthy. Bobby had not explained to him how large an affair this was. Normally he got agoraphobic at things like this, but Jake was usually by his side and most the family members he did know where located about the area. So he was mostly okay.

Iain tried to ignore the Mayor's announcements, about which he really didn't care. They were mostly about placement of food, porta-potties, the time the buffet-style meal began, and the times for the events.

Although most of the events did not interest him, such as the fire-works, the tug-of-war or the pie-eating contest ( although he intended to watch it because Jake was participating ), the Lobster Toss caught his attention.

"How does this work again?" Iain asked. He looked along the dock where twenty or thirty people, men and women as young as fourteen and as old as seventy, had lined up. Like Iain, they were all holding lobsters,

"It's the Lobster Toss," Gil explained, lobster in hand. "See that marker out there? Whoever throws their lobsters the closest to the marker gets the prize."

"What about the lobsters?" Iain asked, holding the lobster to his chest as one might hold a pet.

"Huh?" Gil looked at him oddly.

"Are the lobsters injured when they're thrown?" Iain expanded upon his question. "Has the SPCA heard about this event?"

"We got it cleared a long time ago," Mrs. Evans came up behind them. "It seems that as long as the lobsters were intended for eating anyway, it's all right."

Iain frowned at this. "I don't think it's fair, but I suppose that doesn't matter. What brings you this way, Mrs. Evans?"

"Didn't the boys tell you?" Mrs. Evans smiled. She put out her hand, which held a large lobster. "I'm the three-year champion of the Lobster Toss."

Iain just raised his eyebrows at this. "Okay."

The conversation was brought to a close as the Mayor explained the history of the Lobster Toss. The Lobster Toss was proposed by a local, or as she was known to many, loco librarian.

Iain noticed that Ms. Adams, who had been on the podium with the other City Council members during most of the announcements, was notably missing during this event. He supposed the tradition about librarians was continued to this day as well.

"But that does explain it," Iain muttered. "Lobster tossing. Lobster Quadrille. I see."

The Mayor, who impossibly heard him, shot him a nasty look before continuing.

The librarian had, however, tried to discontinue the event as nobody could understand her set of rules. The practice had been a yearly event before the Fisherman's Ball, and since had been indoctrinated into the proceedings.

And it began. The lobsters were tossed, one person at a time, into the ocean. Several people's lobsters landed well beyond the marker. Mrs. Evan's landed just on the mark.

Finally it was over.

"I tried," Mrs. Evans said firmly. "And that's what counts."

"I suppose so," Iain said, thoughtful. He made his way out of the crowd.

But before the Mayor could announce the winner, he was pulled aside by Iain, who whispered something into his ear. There was some discussion between the Mayor and the judges, before the Mayor returned to his make-shift podium.

"Ordinarily, I would continue the proceedings as normal, naming the person who threw the lobsters the very farthest the winner," the Mayor announced. "But-" he glanced at Iain and didn't recognize him, "this young man with the lobster has brought an interesting point to the fore.

"The rules dictate that the contestant who throws the lobster closest to the line is the winner, not the person who throws it farthest. Therefore, Mrs. Evans wins the Lobster Toss once again!"

A cheer went up, with the exception of those who'd tossed their lobsters the farthest.

"We will, of course," the Mayor continued, "discuss the ramifications of the wording of the rules and consider how we can make them acceptable to every contestant. Give a big hand to all of the contestants."

After the congratulations, Mrs. Evans looked around for Iain, but he was nowhere to be found.


"Kenton?"

Kenton looked up from his food up Iain standing across the table.

"H'lo Iain," Kenton said. "You did know that you're supposed to throw the lobster, right?"

"Of course," Iain said, holding the lobster in the crook of his arm. "But I just couldn't. I think I'm going to release him into the ocean."

[Here]

"Whatever," Kenton rolled his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for Jake," Iain explained. "But I can't seem to find him."

"I think he's over by the buffet tables," Kenton pointed a fork in the direction. "I'm surprised that you lost him. You two are usually joined at the hip."

"I was unaware of that," Iain replied. "Maybe it only seemed so to you."

"Me and everyone else -" Kenton's words were cut off as a frisbee cut through the air and conked him on the side of head. To make matters worse ( or better, from Iain's point of view ), he fell face first into his plate of food.

"Uh-huh," Iain contained a chuckle as people rushed in to help Kenton, who had fallen unconscious. "You and everyone else."

He remembered helping set up the buffet tables, so he knew where they were. After removing his lobster's rubber bands and dropping it into the bay from the dock, he made his way over the tables and found Jake, with a tray piled high with all sorts of foods. Iain stood beside him as he put more food on the tray.

"That looks like a lot of food," Iain said slowly.

"I'm hungry," Jake said simply, as if this explained all. He picked up a spoonful of

"Are you sure you want to eat that?" Iain said, following Jake to the table.

"Yes," Jake replied. He scooped his fork in some potato salad and lifted it to his mouth.

"Pie-eating contest," Iain said.

"Darn it," Jake said, dropping his fork on his plate. "I promised not to eat until then, didn't I?"

Iain nodded in response, taking the plate from him and putting it in a nearby garbage can. He hated to waste it, but there wasn't time for anything else.

"Come on," Iain said. "There's got to be something we can do to take your mind off eating."

They began walking down through the crowds. As the crowd grew thicker, they realized that some event was going to take place shortly.

"What's going on?" Iain asked Jake. "Why's everyone over here?" He looked at the schedule of events, or tried to, as someone in the bustling crowd knocked it out of his hand.

Jake picked it up before it could get destroyed.

"Oh!" Jake exclaimed. He grabbed Iain by the hand. "The pie-eating contest! We almost missed it! Come on!"

"The pie-eating contest?" Iain asked warily. "Why are you taking me with you?"

"You'll see," Jake responded.

"You're not going to -"

"Yeah," Jake shoved people aside, leaving to Iain call "Excuse me" and "Sorry" as he was dragged past. They made their way to the sign-up sheet.

"Jake," Mr. Potter, the town's local baker and provider of pies for the contest, grinned, "I thought you were going to miss your first year. Sign here and take a number. Is your friend signing up, too?"

"Yeah," Jake scrawled their names on the paper while Iain struggled vainly to get away.

"Mr. Jenkins will tie your hands behind your back," Mr. Potter pointed toward the long table before them. Jake tossed Iain a number and made his way to the table.

"This," Iain said as Mr. Jenkins tied his hands behind his back, "is dehumanizing."

"It's all fun," Jake grinned. He sat across from Iain. There were already pies on the table.

"Hey, Jake," said the young man sitting beside Jake. He was a few years older than Iain and Jake. "I thought you were going to miss it."

"Not for the world," Jake's said. "Peter, this is Iain. Iain, meet Peter."

"I would have appreciated meeting you under different circumstances," Iain looked back at the ropes around his hands. Peter laughed at this, but before he could respond, a bell rang.

"Is this sanitary?" Iain whispered, looking at the pie skeptically.

"Probably not," Jake's grinned widened.

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" Iain asked. "Why?"

"I didn't talk you into anything," Jake said. "I dragged you into it without asking you."

Iain groaned, but stayed in his seat. Mr. Potter explained the rules: One could not unbind one's hands or use utensils, obviously. When a pie was finished to the best of the contestants ability, it would be immediately replaced with another pie by the attendants.
The bell sounded again, and everyone dug in. Jake scarfed down his pie in five or six bites, his face covered in sticky red juice. An attendant replaced it almost instantly and he dug in again. Jake didn't stop to think to ask what kind of pie it was, and in his hunger didn't even recognize it as he chowed down.

Iain nibbled at his pie, taking even-sized bites. Jake stopped for a second over a fresh pie to watch him. He shook his head at Iain.

You're doing it wrong.

Iain shrugged. Who cares?

Jake sighed - If that's how you feel - and started to consume his next pie.

Neither Iain nor Jake had any idea of how long they or any other contestant sat at the table. They were aware of those who dropped out, unable to consume any more pie, but other than that there was no other indicator.

Finally, four men were left: Iain, Jake, Quentin, and Peter.

Iain, after finishing his umpteenth pie, sighed. Jake glanced up at him, his entire lower face smeared with this thick red fruit juice and pie crust crumbs. The juice and crumbs covered only Iain's mouth and lips.

You're full?

Iain smirked. No. Just tired of eating pie.

Jake shook his head with a faint smile. Figures.

Iain stood up, put one leg over the bench and then another. His stomach seemed to protrude more than usual as he moved. He glanced down. His belly button was visible under his shirt, which had risen over his swollen belly. An attendant removed the ropes from his wrists, and he waited with Jake's family as they cheered him on.


By glancing sideways, Jake could tell that Peter was losing steam. A glance across told him that Quentin would not be going on much longer. Unfortunately, he was feeling the same way.

After another pie, he felt worse. Before he could get up, a bell rang.

"All right, boys," Mr. Jenkins said into the microphone. "You can stop now."

"That was the longest pie-eating contest we've ever held," Mr. Potter said, taking the microphone from Mr. Jenkins. "If we didn't have another activity scheduled, I'd of liked to like to see this to the finish. But there's no time, so we'll declare a tie for time. Mr. Reaver, how many pies were consumed by the three winners?"

The head attendant spoke to his subordinates. He called out the number of pies eaten by each of the young men. With the last name and number called, everyone gasped.

"We have a winner!" Mr. Potter crowed into the microphone. "First year partaker Jake Evans takes home the prize!"

Jake grinned, somewhat sickly. No more pies, he thought. Not for a long time. At least not until next year.


"Have you seen Iain?" Jake asked Kenton, who was loading food onto his plate near to the point of overflowing. Jake looked at the plate and turned faintly green, but ignored it. He scanned the crowd again. " I can't seem to find him anywhere."

"The last I saw him he was hanging around the head table," Kenton said, having learned his lesson, and pointed over his shoulder. Jake turned to face the table, and really did turn green.

"Not again," he groaned. He made his way, slowly because he had to waddle more than usual, to the head table. Gwyneth's grinding voice could be heard through the sound of partying and crowd noise. She was talking about one of their "dates".

"Gwyneth, what are you doing at the head table?" Jake struggled to sit at the bench.

"I'm your girlfriend," Gwyneth sniffed. "I'm allowed to sit at the head table. 'Sides, I was entertainin' your new friend by tellin' him about our latest rendezvous."

Jake glanced past her and saw someone sitting with their head on the table, hands over their ears. He groaned again when he recognized him. She was torturing Iain with another one of her delusions? Just great.

"Gwyn," Jake said, not half as exasperated as he felt. "You're not my girlfriend. We've never been on a date. Every time I see you it's totally impromptu. I've never officially dated you, or even unofficially dated you, Gwyn. You are not my girlfriend."

"Don't be silly, Jakey," she cooed. "We've been dating for the last two years."

Jake groaned again.

"She's stopped talking?" Iain asked, amazement and hope in his voice as he removed his hands from his ears and sat up. "I thought she'd never stop."

Gwyn was still gazing hopefully at Jake. Seeing her distracted, Iain slipped off the bench and toward a dark corner of the ball, away from the light and heat of the fires. Jake watched him go with amazement. He'd eaten at least half the amount of pie he had. How did he still move like that?

"Gwyn," Jake said, trying to get off the bench. "I'll talk to you about this later."

"But-" She grabbed his shirt, but he managed to slip out of it. "Jake-"
She sat back down. She looked at the shirt in hands. Rubbing the T-shirt to her cheek, she smiled. But as the smile grew on her face, the tears began to flow and she cried into the T-shirt as the Ball went on around her.


"Iain?" Jake called into the darkness. He thought he'd seen Iain go this way. The light from the fires still reached the area, and he could see the dancing and hear the music and the crowds, when he found Iain. He'd been sitting in plain sight, atop an old metal cannister.

"What are you doing back here?" Iain asked, surprised. "How did you manage to escape?"

"It wasn't easy," Jake said, unhappy at how he'd last seen Gwyn. He hadn't thought her to be that serious about him. There would probably be some trouble about it later. But he smiled cheerfully. "You did great out there."

"Thanks," Iain said, standing up. "Not as good as you did, though."

"If you'd been feeding me, I could have eaten more. All the same, you probably could have outdone me," Jake pointed out. "You weren't even full."

"I wanted to save some room for fish," Iain shrugged. "Besides, how could I outdo this?" He poked Jake's belly button.

"I bet you could," Jake poked Iain back. "You aren't ticklish, too, are you?"

"'Too'?" Iain grinned evilly. "No, I'm not, but I can only assume that you are.

He lunged, tickling Jake vindictively. Jake burst out laughing, trying to escape, but Iain was too quick. He realized that Iain wasn't so much tickling him as simply poking him softly all over his upper body, his hands a blur.

Iain stopped for a second, somewhat winded. Jake took the opportunity to run. But he slipped on a paper plate, it's contents now unrecognizable on his sandals, and fell onto the sand with an "Oof!".

Iain couldn't help laughing as Jake struggled to get up. Still laughing, he put out a hand, which Jake took firmly. Before Iain could react, he, too, was on the sand.

They wrestled for a moment, Jake trying and Iain succeeding, in tickling each other. It was kind of hard with their distended bellies between them. Finally, they lay panting on the ground, Iain on top of Jake, when they noticed it at the same time. They asked in unison, "What's that?" And knowing full well what the other was feeling, they responded, again in unison, "What's what?"

"This," Jake pushed his hand between then and nudged Iain's erection.

"Oh," Iain said, still pretending. "That. Probably the same as this." He reached down from the other side and nudged Jake's.

"I didn't realize," Jake said, "that when you said you were into FA, you meant me."

"You didn't ask," Iain said, rolling off of him. He stood up, dusting the sand off of his clothes. "Besides, you didn't tell me anything either. I knew that Gwyn wasn't your girlfriend, but how was I supposed to guess that you liked guys?"

"You never gave me any reasons to think that you were anything other than straight, either," Jake said, rubbing the sand away from everywhere but the front of his shorts. He looked up at Iain and grinned. "Well a few, but nothing concrete. Besides, I'm not interesting in guys. Just you."

"That's good to know," Iain grinned back at him. "'Cause I feel the same way. Now, um, after this revelation, what exactly do we do now?"

"I think kissing is the next step," Jake said thoughtfully. He stepped closer to Iain.

Iain glanced over at the still surging ball, "I don't believe that you're "out"?"

"No. Why?" Then he noticed the ball. "Oh. Yeah. Come on. I have a perfect place."

Taking Iain by the hand he ran, or waddled as quickly as possible, up the boardwalk and in the direction of his house.

"Your bedroom?" Iain suggested.

"Right now, that's not really a romantic kind of place," Jake shook his head. "This place is better."

"Okay," Iain said. "I'll take your word for it."

Jake led him down to a different section of the beach, his arm now around Iain's neck, as the party noise became only a muffled roar.

"You have to close your eyes now," Jake said. Iain did so obediently. Jake took hold of his hand. Both of their hands were warm and damp as Jake led Iain down a small wooden path toward the beach.

"You can open them now," he said. Iain opened his eyes and looked around. They were in a small section of the beach, the high bluffs encircled the area, creating a small pool of ocean water and leaving it mostly cut off from the rest of the shoreline. The area was entirely lit by a series of torches. The floor of the pool of water was visible from their position on the path. Several palm trees completed the scene.

"It's beautiful," Iain said softly as they walked down to the water. "When did you find time to do this?"

"Well," Jake blushed, "When we finished up yesterday, I got the idea for this. I thought the torches would look nice around here. So I asked Mom for the supplies and . . . I set it up."

"Jake," Iain said, stopping. "You're the best."

Jake's blush went from pink to red. "I love it when you talk like that."

"Like what?" Iain asked.

"Normal," Jake leaned forward, falling slightly into Iain's embrace. Their stomachs pressed together, and their tongues pushed into each other's mouths, tasting what the other had eaten recently.

"You taste like fish," Jake smiled when they'd separated away from each other.

"You taste like . . . "Iain thought for a moment. "You taste like those pies from the contest. What kind of pies were those, anyway?"

"I wasn't paying attention," Jake murmured, twisting in for another kiss. Iain turned his head slightly. "What?"

"You have crumbs and juice all over your face," Iain said, smiling slightly. "But don't worry. I'll fix that."

He proceeded to lick the sticky juice from Jake's face. He methodically moved his tongue over Jake's face, with almost cat-like strokes, washing clean his lips, his chin, and both cheeks.

"There," Iain grinned. "All better."

[Here]

"Thanks," Jake said, feeling himself get harder, if that was possible. "It would have been embarrassing to go around looking so silly."

"You?" Iain laughed. "I can't imagine you get embarrassed."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked.

"You just have such a . . . carefree nature," Iain said.

"OH . . . MY . . . GAWD!"

Iain and Jake turned to see Gwyn and Kenton standing on the path nearby. Both looked shocked and somewhat outraged.

"I cannot believe this," Gwyn said. "Cheating on me with this . . . this - "

"Jake," Kenton said bitterly. "You could have told me you were a - "

Kenton said an unpleasant word which begins with an "f".

Jake, eyes wide, turned from Gwyn, to Kenton, and to Iain. Before anything could move, he had disentangled himself from Iain and dashed up the path and disappeared over the hill. All three were surprised to see him move so quickly, but they quickly got over it.

"And you," Gwyn said, eyes flashing. She stomped over to Iain. She raised her hand to strike him. As she moved to do so, Iain grabbed her wrist. She cried out.

"Don't even think about it," Iain hissed. "I don't hold with hurting ladies. And I won't hurt you, either."

"Let go of her!" Kenton said brusquely, adding that "f" word again as he stepped forward. Iain spun Gwyn in Kenton's direction. He caught her expertly. "Who do you think you are?"

"I know very well who I am," Iain said. "But who are you? Are you Jake's best friend? Are you the one he tells me about at least twice an hour? I thought that was you, but I must have been mistaken."

"I thought he was my best friend," Kenton said. "But I didn't know him either. He could told me he was a - a "

"Don't even say the word a third time," Iain said coldly.

"What's going on down there?" Someone called from the crest of the hill. They turned to see a crowd of people amassing on the top path. They must have heard Gwyn cry out, Iain realized.

Gwyn, apparently having recovered, went up the path, screaming of secret trysts and betrayals.

Iain snorted in disgust, and striding past her, up the hill, and through the crowds, he went into the house.


The front door was wide open. Jake must have been too upset to close it, so Iain did. He made his way through the dark house, no one was supposed to be in it and Jake hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. Iain didn't either.

"Jake?" Iain called. "Jake?"

Iain lurked carefully through the house. He caught sight of a light on and followed it. It was coming from under Jake's door. He could hear Jake . . . Hyperventilating? Crying? He couldn't be sure.

He tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked on the door. "Jake? Are you . . . all right?"

There was no response, so Iain backed away from the door. He could hear people entering the house and see lights being turned on.

"Iain?" Bobby said. He was fishing around in his pocket "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Iain said, chagrined. "I'm fine. But Jake . . . "

"Isn't taking it as well as you did?" Bobby asked, not referring to tonight.

"No, he's not," Iain said.

"I'll talk to him for a bit," Bobby said, choosing a key from his key chain. "Just wait outside, okay?"

"Okay," Iain said, going down the hallway to the sofa.

He was surprised to see several guests milling about the house. Apparently the unspoken rule about guests not entering the house had been put on hold due to tonight's events and the lights being on.

Ignoring them, Iain sat on one of the sofas, waiting patiently for Bobby and Jake to finish their talk.


"There you are."

Iain looked up sharply, then he stood up to greet Mrs. Evans.

"Iain, that was brilliant," Mrs. Evans said, clasping him tight in a hug. When she released him, she sat down on the sofa and gestured for him return to his seat. "I don't think I'll ever win the event again, but this time was special."

Iain was surprised. "You aren't upset?"

"Upset about what?" Mrs. Evans asked, still smiling.

"About - about Jake and me," Iain stuttered.

"Should I be?" She asked. "You haven't done anything wrong, have you?"

"I - I don't think so," Iain said. "Have I?"

"No," Mrs. Evans said. "You only did what countless boys and girls do all over the world, and what fewer boys are allowed to do. Just because some parents might get upset and scream about it, doesn't mean that I have to."

"Robert told you about that?" Iain looked down.

"Yes," Mrs. Evans said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Your parents are wrong, Iain. I can't speak for other times, as I don't know them, but in this situation, they're wrong. I think that you care about Jake, quite a bit, and I know for a fact that Jake just about loves you. If you make each other happy, who am I to break you up?"

Iain was silent.

"Think on it," Mrs. Evans said, getting up. "Whatever you and Jake decide, I'm all right with it."


"Iain," Mr. Evans said as he sat down on a nearby chair, which creaked loudly in protest. "You missed the main event."

"Hmm?" Iain looked up blankly.

"Mr. Mumford made an appearance not too long ago," Mr. Evans said. "This year we've had the best turnout we've ever had. From what he said as the police carried him off, he took even more offense to the noise than the fish."

"What has he done?" Iain asked, smiling in spite of himself.

Mr. Evans went on to explain what had happened. Not an half-an-hour ago the Ball, Mr. Mumford, dressed in a tattered black wet suit and wearing a gas-mask, had rolled down the bluffs and landed in the thick of the party, accompanied by more than a dozen cats. Once the police arrived, they were able to get the whole story.

The Evans had a walk-in basement attached to their house near the top of the bluffs. It was unlocked, because the cooks needed to get to the fish. What he couldn't know was that they kept very few fish in the freezer in order to fry later on, as most of the fish served is brought by the guests.

He jammed the door so that it wouldn't close properly and turned off the refrigeration unit so the fish would begin to defrost and smell. After the Ball had gone on for a few hours, he went back to check on the fish, which was quite ripe by then.

When he returned to his house to release the cats, they caught scent of the fish on him and attacked him, knocking him off the bluff and into the Ball. Luckily the cliff was more of a steep hill, and he rolled the whole way down. The cats were all okay. They mostly vanished in the direction of the Evans house.

Police found evidence that Mr. Mumford had been abducting cats for the last few weeks and keeping them at his house. Which explained why the Cat had been stalking his house. Several of the queens had been in heat. Mr. Evans told the story well, and Iain chuckled and laughed through the entire tale. Mr. Evans seemed to enjoy his enjoyment as well.

"You need to laugh more often," He advised. "Especially if you're going to be with my Jake. He likes a good audience."

That stopped Iain's laughter instantly. "What?"

"What I mean is," Mr. Evans said slowly, "that if you're considering dating Jake, you need to laugh more. He's a very cheerful boy, and he likes to get a reaction from his listeners, just like I do."

Iain sat very still, finding it very difficult to believe what he was hearing. Mr. Evans stood up, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Just work on laughing and smiling more often," Mr. Evans said sagely, "and you and Jake should get along fine."

He slammed the door behind him leaving the house, and Iain, silent and somewhat surprised.


The front door creaked open, the party sounds momentarily seeping into the house, and Iain looked up from his seat to see Gwyn step inside. She glanced at him.

"What are you doing here?" Gwyn asked.

"Waiting," Iain responded.

"For Jake?" Gwyn asked. Iain nodded. "You don't think I could go in to visit him, do you?"

"I . . . don't think it would be a good idea," Iain said carefully. "He's really upset."

Gwyn started to say something, but stopped. "I suppose you're right. I wasn't exactly . . . reasonable out there, was I? Well, whenever Jake comes out, tell him that I'm sorry for hurting him. Maybe - maybe I'll see you later, okay?"

Iain just nodded.

Gwyn stopped at the door. "Y'know, I've been waiting for Jake for a long time now, too. But I don't think you'll have to wait very long at all."

She slipped out of the door. Iain could hear her conversation with Kenton.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I talked to Iain for a bit," She said.

"You didn't talk to Jake?"

"No," She said. "He's in his room. Iain will apologize for me when he comes out."

"What?" Kenton blurted out. "You're apologizing? For what? For wanting his fat faggot butt for the past four years?!"

"No," Gwyn said. "For hurting him tonight. Do you know how I feel since I finally realized that Jake isn't going to 'come around'? I feel good. I feel like I've let myself out of the cage I built for myself. And if you're half the man you feel you are, you'll go in and apologize, too."

[Here]

"Me?" Kenton asked. "Now I'm supposed to apologize? He's the one who lied to me!""And, like me, you turned your back on him when he needed your support," Gwyn said. "Forget it. I'm going for a walk. If you go in and apologize, you can catch up with me later. If not, well . . . I don't know. I'll see you later."

Iain heard her leave the deck and walk into the night. After about five or ten minutes, Iain heard Kenton open the door and step inside.

"Hello," Kenton said, sitting down across from him.

"Hello," Iain said.

"So," Kenton said awkwardly, "you're Jake's boyfriend now?"

Iain glanced at him oddly. "No. Not that I know of."

"Oh," Kenton said. "He's really upset?"

"Very upset," Iain nodded.

"Why?" Kenton asked, genuinely curious. "Why should he be upset about anything?"

"Why are you upset about anything?" Iain replied. "If you tell me why you're so upset, maybe I'll tell you why I think he's upset."

Kenton looked at him doubtfully. "And you know him well enough to speak for him?"

"I know him better than you do," Iain pointed out without malice. Kenton's face flushed.

"All right," Kenton said. "I'm upset because he's spent the last month-and-a-half hanging out with you. I'm upset because my best friend's gay. Because he should have told me. Because when I look at either of you I only see you . . . 'with' each other."

"Ah," Iain said. "Jake's spent the last month and a half talking quite a bit about you. And, well, neither of us really knew that we were . . . interested in guys until we met each other, and not even that until just tonight." A small lie, but what Kenton didn't need to know, he wouldn't. "And we've never actually 'done' anything, so I hope that makes you feel a little better."

"A little," Kenton admitted. "So tell me why is Jake upset?"

"Why I think he's upset," Iain corrected. "I think he's a little ashamed of being gay. I don't think he wanted anyone to know just yet, if ever, and I agree with him. I think he's upset that you're upset. You could have been a little more understanding, I think. But one I'm almost positive of is that you ruined the moment that he set up so perfectly."
"Why are you so certain of that?" Kenton asked.
"Because I know that I am," Iain said darkly. A chill crawled up Kenton's spine, but Iain quickly returned to his noncommital expression. "But Jake will probably forgive you for that. I don't know if I can, but Jake almost certainly will, as he's a much nicer person than I am."


After Kenton left, explaining that he had to find Gwyn, Iain sat with the cat for a little while. More people than Iain expected came into the house for various reasons, most of them taking a moment to share their opinion on the matter.

An outraged aunt and her apathetic husband accused Iain of enticing Jake into sin. One uncle talked uncomfortably about how it was okay for Iain and Jake to be gay as long as they used protection. This conversation was thankfully brief, and Iain was happy to see him return to the festivities. Two of Jake's cousins confided that they'd known all along. One guest, who'd somehow managed to find some alcohol, gave Iain a deep explanation on a subject Iain missed in what appeared to be another language. Fortunately her spouse interrupted and helped her to their car.

One of the most memorable was a young man who appeared to be several years younger than Iain. Apparently he was one of Jake's distant relatives who'd been invited. He slipped in during a quiet moment and talked to Iain for a short while. After the conversation died down, he explained that he himself had 'feelings'. Although Iain raised an eyebrow at this, he understood what he was saying. He and Iain talked for a while before someone came in for plastic cups.

Iain managed to give him his phone number so that they could talk some more. This led to a joke from a nearby relative about cheating on Jake, which Iain made a point to ignore.

He was watching the ceiling fan, and how when one looked at it from a certain angle it seemed to be going to opposite direction, when someone slipped him into a headlock. The cat leapt from his lap and disappeared. Iain struggled for a bit before just going limp.

"Aw you're no fun," Gil said, slipping around the other side of the couch.

"I try not to be," Iain said simply. "It keeps the jokers away."

"Naw," Gil said. "It makes us try harder. But that's not what I'm here to talk about."

"What exactly is it that you want to talk about?" Iain asked.

"You and Jake of course," Gil said. "So are you two an 'item'?"

"Not that I know of," Iain said between gritted teeth. If he heard that question just once more he'd injure someone.

"Okay," Gil said. "'Cause if you do become one, and you hurt him, Howie and me'll hurt you."

"Ah, I see," Iain said. "Did you do this to Robert?"

"Of course," Gil grinned. "Did you think that 'cause you're both guys that you were safe? No way! This is tradition."

"Ah, I see," Iain said.

"One more thing," Gil said. "How are you so mellow about this? I mean, Howie says that Jake's taking it hard."

Iain thought for a moment. "I've already experienced something like this on a smaller, more private scale. And besides, this isn't my hometown. If I were inclined to do so, I could leave tomorrow and forget the whole thing. But I'm worried, a little, about Jake."

Gil nodded. "Okay. Have you talked to the 'rents yet?"

Iain nodded.

"Well, you're in one piece so they must be okay with it."

"Gil?"

A solemn young woman appeared beside Gil.

"Christine," Gil's smile changed almost imperceptibly as he turned to face her. "You made it."

"Obviously," She said. Gil slipped an arm around her waist, turned wink at Iain, and they left the house talking about Christine's day at work.


Iain heard Jake's door open and was almost out of his seat when Bobby emerged from the hallway.

"I'd wait a bit before I go in," Bobby said as he headed for the front door. "He's thinking."

Iain nodded, and returned to his seat.

Bobby sat down in the chair across from him. "How are you taking all this?"

"I'm all right," Iain sighed. "Better now than I was earlier tonight.

"That's good," Bobby said. "Jake's worried about you. He knows that you're kind of shy, and he thinks you're going to hop on a plane and go home."

"I hope that you told him otherwise," Iain said. "I didn't leave home when I told my parents, and that was a great deal worse than this."

"I know," Bobby said. "I told him about it."

Iain glanced sidelong at Bobby, which was impressive because Bobby was right in front of him. "I know that you don't like talking about it, but I think it helped him to feel better. I mean, if you have to deal with that, he feels that he can deal with this."

Iain laughed. "If I had to choose between this town and my parents, I'd pick this town."

"I know," Bobby said, smiling. Silence swallowed up the conversation.

"Robert," Iain said. "When you brought me here, did you know about Jake?"

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked evasively.

"Did you know that he was gay?"

"Well, yes," Bobby admitted. "I had hoped that you two would help each other. I thought that Jake might help you get close to people again and that Jake might be able to open up to you about his own feelings. Or something like that."

"Did Melanie know?" Iain asked.

"No," Bobby said. "Not about you or Jake, or my reason for bringing you here. I didn't think she'd have approved of it and I was right. She's got her own thoughts on things."

"I'm guessing that these aren't positive thoughts," Iain said.

"You'd be right," Bobby said, standing. "I think that you should probably just avoid her for the time being. At least until it's time to go home."

Iain agreed. Bobby got up to leave.

"Robert?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you have a key to Jake's room?" Iain asked.

"Oh," Bobby grinned. "That. When Evans children turn a certain age, they get a door knob with a lock and key. They get one key and someone else gets another. Jake gave his to me. He claimed that was because he trusted me most, but I think its because I live out of state."

"Oh," Iain said.

And Bobby left.


The cat entered through the pet door and yawned, revealing dangerous looking teeth, and stretched. It looked sated and contented. It walked over to Iain and, not even bothering to look up at him, hopped up and onto the place where his crossed legs created a small cradle. Iain stroked and petted the cat for about twenty minutes before it grew tired of it and left.

Silently getting up from his seat, Iain tried to step so as to avoid creaking boards, as several guests had fallen asleep nearby. He knocked on Jake's door.

"Jake?" he called softly. He knocked again before slowly pushing the door open.

Jake was asleep, sitting on his bed as he had been the day Iain had started feeding him. Iain bit his lip at the sight of trails made from tears on Jake's dusty face. Sighing heavier than usual, he closed the door behind him.

He sat down on the sofa. Within minutes, he was asleep. The Ball ended and everyone left while he was still asleep.


"Iain?"

Iain woke with a start as someone shook him by the shoulders.

"Yes?" Iain opened his eyes. "Oh. Jake. You're up."

"Yeah," Jake said. Iain noticed that he hadn't cleaned his face.

Iain stood up, standing almost belly to belly with Jake. He realized that someone had hung a small sign that said "Do Not Disturb" around his neck. Fortunately, it was signed Howie, so he knew who to thank or injure.

"Lets walk," Jake said, taking Iain by the hand and pulling him out of the house before he could remove the sign.

After they left the house, they began to walk down the seaside.

"Where are we going?" Iain asked.

"I don't know," Jake said.

"The Cat's been along here," Iain pointed at the prints in the sand. They were just visible in the early morning light.

They followed the large paw prints over the sand the through the shore grass. Eventually they traveled over sand dunes and toward the cliffs.

"I really am sorry," Iain said, finally breaking the silence.

"For what?" Jake said.

"For . . . " Iain thought for a moment.

"For seducing me with your charms and sweeping me off my feet?" Jake laughed.

"No," Iain said humorlessly. "For causing you so much trouble."

"Everything that happened between us happened because I wanted it to," Jake said. Iain looked at him curiously. "Well, not everything. But everything that happened, happened because of stuff that I set in motion."

"Not really," Iain said. "I could have said no at anytime."

"Would you have?" Jake asked, looking unbearably vulnerable for a moment.

"No," Iain said. "But you're not taking the blame that easily."

"But it's true!" Jake said.

Iain shrugged and continued walking. He noticed several pairs of human footprints coincided with that Cat's. He looked ahead, instead of down at the tracks. Jake, engrossed in his thoughts, didn't seem to notice. He was saying something about Bobby talking to him about things.

What appeared to be clothing was left lying on the ground across the tracks, as if tossed to the wind.

"Just a minute," Iain said, releasing Jake's hand and telling him to be quiet and stay where he was for a moment.

Curiouser and Curiouser, Iain thought. The footprints led behind a jutting cliff wall, the one the encased the area that Jake had set up the day before. Iain expected to find Gil or even Howie.

Finally, he rounded a corner and found something that he hadn't even considered. Eyes wide, he backed out of the cleft and turned back the way he'd come.

"What was it?" Jake asked, oblivious.

"Nothing," Iain said, reclaiming Jake's hand. "Lets go this other way."

The Cat was sitting a flat rock nearby, licking one of his hind legs.

"You," Iain pointed at the cat, who had stopped to glance in their direction, "have a sick sense of humor."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Jake asked.

"Nothing," Iain said, a faint smile on his face. "What were you saying about Robert?"

Well," Jake said, putting his free hand on the back of his head, "we talked about different things. He helped me to put some things in order. I'm going to talk to Mom and Da today and see what they think."

"That sounds like a good idea," Iain said.

"And I want you to talk to them with me," Jake said, slowly. "So that they can understand about . . . us."

"I think your mom understands," Iain said. "She talked to me last night."

"Oh," Jake said. "What about Da?"

"He didn't seem too put out about it," Iain said. They walked in silence, hand in hand.

"I talked to Gwyn and Kenton last night," Iain said carefully.

Jake's face froze. "What did they say?"

"They apologized," Iain said. "But Gwyn . . . Gwyn's changed, Jake. A lot. She seemed almost normal last night."

"What do you mean?"

"She referred to you as 'Jake' and lost the obviously fake southern belle accent," Iain said bluntly. "Her sentences were coherent and she wasn't skipping about the whole time."

"Wow," Jake said. "My mom says that's what she's like when she's not around me. I always knew it was put on, but why?"

"Actually," Iain said slowly, "she told me why last night."

"Really?" Jake asked. "Why?"

"I don't know why. It was before she found us at the head table. Apparently when you were younger your favorite character on a cartoon was a woman who spoke with a southern accent. From her description I would wager that it was Rogue, from the X-Men."

"I remember that," Jake said. "We used to watch that when my mother was baby-sitting her."

"Well, she thought that by imitating her, that she could get you to like her as well."

Jake laughed. "It's funny, but I only said that I liked Rogue because my brothers liked her, Storm and Jean Grey so much. My favorite character was actually the Blob."

"Are you serious?" Iain asked. Jake nodded. "I collect the Blob's comic book appearances."

Jake stared at him in surprise. "You're kidding. I didn't think anyone else liked him at all. He was a bit of jerk."

"I do," Iain said. "And he is. But it makes sense, though. But does it explain certain things or is it just another symptom? I wonder."

Jake just shrugged. Another silence fell and they sat down on a slab of rock embedded in the sand, sitting in quiet.

"So," Jake said, "what about us?"

Iain cocked his head. "What about us?"

"Is there an 'us'?" Jake asked. "Are we still a 'we'?"

Iain grinned. "Finally, the person I want to ask the question asks it. I've heard that question a dozen times if not more in as many hours."

"Really?" Jake grinned back. "From who?"

"Too many people," Iain said simply. "Do you want there to be an 'us'? I know that I'd like for us to be an 'us'."

"Then we're an 'us'," Jake said.

"So you aren't going to have any problems?" Iain asked. "With not being straight and all?"

"I don't think so," Jake said. "People around here like you to think that they're an old fashioned town that doesn't change, but they do."

"So you'll be all right," Iain sighed.

"Of course!" Jake laughed. "Bobby helped me to see that the town's not just going to turn on me because I'm gay. 'Sides, I don't think half of them know what happened last night anyway."

"That's comforting," Iain said. "Because, to be honest, I don't either."

"Speaking of last night," Jake said, "I think I'm going to get a job."

"Really?" Iain asked. "Where?"

"Do you remember the little Italian restaurant in town?"

"They brought that bottomless lasagna last night, correct?"

"Correct," Jake grinned to see Iain feeling better already. "Well, one of their waiters is leaving to go to the 'big city', and Mr. Gatto has an opening. He asked me last night, before things got out of hand, if I wanted to work for him. I said I'd think about it, but I'm not sure if he still wants to hire me."

"I think it sounds like a good idea," Iain said.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are your plans?"

"I want to work at a library," Iain said thoughtfully. "Specifically, the one in this town. But I'm leaving . . . "

"It just occurred to me," Jake asked, "but when are you leaving?"

"I don't know," Iain shrugged. "I finished home-schooling ages ago, so I'm pretty much obligation free. I can probably stay here as long as Robert and Melanie want to."

"Than you may be here a good while yet," Jake said happily. "I wouldn't want to lost my encourager and boyfriend too soon."

"That's comforting," Iain said. "But just in case, would I be within my right to request a kiss?"

"Yes, you would be," Jake smiled. He had to bend over slightly in order to reach Iain's lips. They kissed, a real kiss this time, briefly before separating.

"That was fun," Jake said, grinning.

"I'm just glad that I was able to give as well as I received," Iain said. "Are you ready to go back now?"

Jake thought for a moment. "Yeah, let's go."

They got off the rock and began to make their way back to the house.

"Iain?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"Do you think mom would mind if you fed me at dinner tonight?" Jake asked innocently.

Iain playfully cuffed him on the side of the head and, laughing, they headed home.

[FatMike]

Thanks for posting it :)

[TheIcePrince]

This one was always one of my favorites. Thanks for reposting it.

[jaybear]

Now that I see it again, I remember it well. So glad you have reposted it so we all can enjoy it again - or for the first time.

[Icarus]

Awesome, one of my all time favourites, seriously.

Wish somebody still had a copy of the semi-sequel that Nobody wrote (different characters, but Jake and Iain appeared in it too).

[SandertjHe]

Really cool story like it !:D it's so different from others!:D

[drs1883]

ah! this is so cute!~

[Hobbit]

wow...this one was awesome...

the best story i ever read, because it IS a story, not just an amount of fantasies put in a row, without a real background...

really great...