Explorers Ch. 06
Keywords: Explorers, Ch., 06,
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"
"You'll have to get on that in the morning."
Without even looking at the windows, I know my aunt and probably my grandma are watching us from the kitchen. There's nothing else to do for entertainment. And so, I grab Daniel's hand and lead him around to the other side of the truck so their view is obscured. Why should they get a free show? Daniel leans back against the driver's side door and wraps his left arm around my neck; I put my hands on either side of his head to keep from pressing against his right shoulder, letting him draw me in, keeping my weight off him while our lips meet softly. His mouth is sweet and addicting and I'm so hungry for the taste of him after being apart for almost two weeks that my lips are needy and demanding, descending on his mouth and engulfing him. I want to swallow him. He smiles at my urgency and teases my tongue with his, swirling it into my mouth. Lips so warm. My knees go weak and I have to breathe in sharply through my nose, inhaling his scent.
"Rylan, get in the house. Time to eat," my grandpa orders from the other side of the truck, another world. We're an island here in the driveway. I draw my lips away from Daniel's reluctantly. Our two-week separation turned into four weeks since he left Atlanta and a week and a half since I had to come home from Tallahassee for business. It's been hell, being away from him.
"Be right there."
Excited laughing voices chatter on the other side of the world, my niece and nephew going into the house with my grandpa, splattered with mud. The screen door slams and I smile at Daniel, whose eyes read a sudden flash of hesitation.
"Guess we have to do this sometime, huh?" He takes a breath, as if my family were a firing squad he must face.
"Don't worry. They'll love you, like I do." I kiss him one last time and then take his hand. We go up to the sidewalk hand-in-hand, but Daniel lets go and drops my hand when we reach the final few steps, his eyes going to the grinning faces in the window. I can't say I'm not a little dejected, but I can understand, it is his first time meeting my whole family and you never know how people are going to react. I hate adjusting my actions around other peoples' comfort zones, but it's not a new thing. It just comes with the territory and I tell myself I should be used to it by now. I open the screen door and lead him in.
The kitchen is all brightness and warmth and delicious smells of the traditional family Christmas feast we didn't get to have this year because I stayed in Atlanta to take care of Daniel. Christmas was only two weeks after the shooting and he was still in too much pain to go anywhere or be around a lot of people, even though my grandma desperately wanted us to come. Instead, I just invited Drew and Louis over and we had an elegant dinner and talked until Daniel got too tired, and then they left and we just cuddled on the couch and watched old movies, with Daniel drifting in and out of sleep, head in my lap. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had.
I love my family but they cook way too much food. Food is a production and it's also a token of love so you have to eat yourself sick or my grandma will feel slighted. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls and enough desserts and side dishes to feed an army. The army will be here tomorrow for my grandma's birthday, in the form of aunts and uncles and cousins, but for right now, it's just immediate family. Paul's next to the stove quietly reading the St. Louis paper he picked up while he was in town. Daniel returns Charlotte's hug but I can see him quailing a little as my grandma steps up with her hand outstretched.
"Daniel, it's so nice to meet you."
Of course, she doesn't have a chance of resisting Daniel's slightly shy southern charm. He's adorably nervous and calls her "Miss Opal" because his upbringing just won't let him call her by her first name without the Miss, even after she asks him to. Even though I prepared him, I can tell he's a bit bewildered by the friendly welcome. I certainly didn't get the same from his family when he brought me to meet them. Sure, his sisters were nice, the new baby was sweet and his mom wasn't exactly rude; it was just obvious that she wasn't interested in welcoming her son's lover into the family, and that was fine. I would've liked it to be different for his sake, but not everyone has a family like mine. Watching my grandma reach up and pat Daniel's cheek, and the way he smiles down at her in return, looking truly pleased and grateful, I'm just glad I can share a little of their love with him.
I feel his tension, though, when my grandfather walks into the room, damp from washing off the mud. At six-feet-four, he towers over most people and he looks very imposing with his stern face, his thick hair going from red to gray, and his piercing blue eyes, squinted in the corners from decades looking across the fields in the blazing sun. I know Daniel is nervous but he has nothing to fear. Like me, my grandpa's reserved with new people, but like me, once he knows and accepts someone, he does it wholeheartedly.
"Daniel, this is my grandpa, Wilbur Kennedy, but everyone calls him Red. Grandpa, this is Daniel Braden."
"So you're the hero," my grandpa says as he shakes Daniel's hand.
"No sir. I'm not a hero, I was just doing my job."
I happen to be watching my grandpa when Daniel says this and I can see that skeptical look hovering in his eyes. But when he sees that Daniel is genuine, and not just trying to play off false modesty, he smiles, which is a good and rather surprising thing, because my grandpa doesn't smile that often, especially around strangers. They like him. I knew they would. I'm sent off to put Daniel's jacket in the bedroom, where I notice his bags on the floor. I'll have to take them upstairs later. Sleeping arrangements haven't been discussed. I hate the idea of separate rooms upstairs, but every time I've brought someone home, that's been the protocol. It's easy to sneak down the hall at night, but I wish I didn't have to. I should be used to it by now, and I am, but with Daniel, it's different. I thought I was over all that and now I resent it all afresh, like it's something completely new and we're the first ones to ever have to downplay things for family. It just feels wrong, like I'm seventeen again, hiding who I really am, and it's all so unfair, and feeling all those things again when I've always thought they're dead inside me, that I've finally accepted it, is strangely exhilarating.
When I return, Jeremy and Madison have been called in from the living room where they were playing with their new Xbox they got for Christmas. My whole family is gathering in the kitchen to serve themselves from the stove and the dishes and platters laid out on the counter and the kitchen table. When Daniel spots the pies lined up on the table, right where he bent me over, his eyes find mine over all the heads and he grins. A little tingle shoots down my spine and into my cock and I clear my throat and turn away, smirking to myself.
"What would you like on your plate, Daniel? Do you like turkey or ham?"
"Here, Ma, you can go ahead and sit down at the table. I'll fix Daniel's plate."
Daniel stands there between my grandma and Charlotte, looking uncomfortable while they fight over who gets to fix his plate. I laugh at his pleading look, but I shrug. There's nothing I can do to save him now. Apparently, they've decided to cooperate; my grandma arranges slices of turkey on a plate while Charlotte dishes up fluffy mashed potatoes and stuffing. My grandma explains that it's not cornbread stuffing like he's probably used to being from the south but she's sure he might like it, it's my favorite after all. Paul complains jokingly that nobody ever fixes his plate.
"You have two good arms," Charlotte tells her husband. Her whole demeanor changes, from brisk to adoring and solicitous, when she turns back to Daniel. Can't blame them a bit. Well I know how that wounded-war-hero thing of his gets to you. "Do you want gravy over everything, or just your mashed potatoes?"
Eventually, we all end up at the dining room table. My family isn't big on formality but the grown-ups always eat together while the kids take their plates to the coffee table. Usually, I end up hanging out with them instead of the so-called adults, but I sit beside Daniel and cut up his ham and turkey for him. My grandma is crushed that she didn't think to do it.
"I'm sorry, I should've given you smaller pieces."
"It's okay, I'm used to it," I grin at Daniel. It embarrasses him that he still can't do some simple tasks, but instead of grumbling about it like he usually does, he just lingers over me with his eyes.
"Yes, and you do a good job," he says softly.
Everyone's suddenly uncomfortable and we break out of our little moment. We do that sometimes, look at each other and just forget the rest of the world exists. It never fails to send flights of butterflies fluttering through me. I push him his plate, looking away from his face down at the table. I just want to touch him and be near him all the time. The rest of this - as much as I love my family - it's all just an annoyance, keeping me from being alone with him.
"So Daniel, how's your arm? What's the prognosis?" my grandpa asks after a bit, while we're all eating. The food is delicious as always. My grandma and Charlotte monitor Daniel's eating carefully, watching to see if he runs out of anything he likes, or doesn't care for something.
"It's doing pretty well, they took the splint off and I'm doing therapy three days a week. I got a referral for someone in Chicago, by the way, Rylan. I've gotten some motion back and the doctors are happy with the way it's healing. They say I'm actually ahead of schedule at this point."
"As long as you don't try to do too much and hurt it again," I just have to say. He rolls his eyes at me; it's been a constant battle to keep him from pushing things.
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Keywords: Explorers, Ch., 06,