Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Delicate ❯ Stranger in a Strange Land ( Chapter 10 )

Delicate

Chapter Ten:

Stranger in a Strange Land

 

By: Irish

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dee had been cleaning. Part of it was because Bikky would be spending his first night at Dee's place, not counting the few slumber parties with Ryo, tomorrow. The other part was that Dee needed to be busy. He needed to move, because if he didn't he would just stall out and end up sitting somewhere and chewing his fingernails ragged. He supposed that was a symptom of depression -- or something -- just stalling out like that. He remembered doing it after Penguin had been injured, only really able to stare off into nothing. It was, however, counter productive. So Dee spent the first weekend he had had off in a month and a half in a pair of jeans so holey, thread bare, and paint splattered that they should have been made into rags years ago, a gray t-shirt and a blue bandana. Making like Lucy Ricardo, on his hands and knees scrubbing down the warped hardwood of his floor, sweeping the ceilings free of cobwebs, tossing black garbage bag after black garbage bag down from his fire escape to the dumpster below, sending cats yowling every time.

 

The apartment had likely never been so clean, at least not in the last few decades, the toilet had been scrubbed, he had gone after the grout with a toothbrush, even the oven had been cleaned. Windows, dusting and polishing, he had even beat out the 6x8 rugs in his living room and bedroom. It was around dinnertime when he had finally run out of things he could think to clean. All the laundry was done; he had deep cleaned the furniture (to what ends he wasn't sure, it had been stained when he got it), done all the dishes, literally all of them dirty or not. So he had started a new project, one that would take a little more finesse, and the rest of the night.

 

He already drug the scaffolding from the basement during the cleaning phase, to get at the light fixtures, and now he drug it over to the huge bay window and seat, canvas drop-clothes spread over the floor and wooden bench, the cushions moved across the room. He got out his paints from the cupboard they lived in, setting them up, digging out one of his larger palates, and a wide array of brushes. After taping over the window fixtures, he started to work, starting to understand how Michelangelo felt painting the Sistine Chapel.

 

The ceiling of the little alcove that housed the window and seat was arched, which made his work even more difficult, trying to keep the pain from running. But he stayed busy, slowly painting a mural over the ceiling and walls framing the alcove that would become Bikky's personal space, all Dee could offer him. When the mural was done, he pointed a fan up at it, then started another project. It was only three in the morning and he wouldn't be tired until six, which is when he had been going to bed since he had started on the night shift.

 

Dee had been planning this for years, but had never quite gotten around to it. But now, searching for something to keep him occupied, coupled with a desire to have Bikky feel comfortable, special and wanted, now he found the time. He had several large bags of mosaic tiles, which he sat down with in front of the window seat. The bench that was the foundation for the seat had four drawers built into it, which Dee had cleared out to serve as Bikky's closet space. Now he primed the wood before smearing it with grout, quickly, efficiently, but with an artists precognition, placed the mosaic tiles. He had no pattern in mind, just something to cover up the stained, painted, warped wood that held the drawers. The drawer fronts themselves; he left their original painted white color, leaving the brass handles.

 

The sun had risen long before he was done, flooding his workspace with light as he finally stood to admire the finished project. Not entirely finished, not yet. He planned to hang full-length curtains, one layer sheer, the second opaque, to give Bikky a `door' to close. He also planned to put in a couple shelves, and possibly some Christmas lights. But for now, he had to let the paint finish drying… He checked his watch… eight thirty in the morning. If he slept for four hours he would have plenty of time to finish his project before the brat showed up.

 

Too tired to think, Dee washed up as best he could, not bothering with paint thinner, he could do that when he woke, and stripped down to nothing before falling into bed, too tired to care the sun was up and streaming in his bedroom window.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Ryo stopped in front of Dee's building, Bikky standing next to him. It was a Saturday evening, a rare blessing to be off, even rarer that both he and Dee had the same night off. Two months ago, they would have been going out, maybe just to a movie, or a quick bite at the diner they frequented. That was two months ago, and tonight, Ryo had cold pizza from the night before and a pile of casework waiting for him back home.

 

“All right kiddo, call if you need anything… or even if you don't alright?” he smoothed back the boy's hair tenderly.

 

“Geez, its not like I've never been away from home before.” Bikky rolled his eyes. But it was different and he knew it. This was the first step in Ryo admitting that Dee was important enough to share him with. “I'm coming home Tuesday.”

 

“I know… we'll go out for dinner, okay?” Ryo put his hands in his pockets to keep from smothering the boy. What if Bikky decided he liked living with Dee more?

 

“Dad… I'm coming back okay? Its not like I'm moving here.” Bikky looked up into Ryo's dark eyes, seeing all that Ryo felt, but not wholly understanding it, only knowing he didn't like to make Ryo anxious. The truth was he was nervous too. He had no idea what to expect, he had never seen Dee as a responsible type guy, the kind of guy who get a kid through his homework, and have a decent meal on the table every evening.

 

“I know… I know… alright, go on, I'm not going to come up… call…” Ryo managed to take a step away.

 

“I will. See ya.” Bikky offered a small smile before turning and dashing into the building, moving quickly, before Ryo could call him back, or he could chicken out.

 

“Yeah, see ya.” Ryo said softly, watching Bikky move into the building and up the stairs, even then standing there a long moment before finally turning to catch a train home.

 

Bikky wasn't sure if he should knock or walk in… He lifted his hand, hesitated a moment, then knocked, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He almost jumped when the door opened.

 

“Hey Bik.” Dee smiled, stepping back to let the boy in. “You don't have to knock.'

 

“Thanks…” he said quietly, looking around at the vaguely familiar apartment, not quite so well known now that it was so brilliantly clean. “You cleaned…”

 

“Yeah well, I thought I should pretend to be an adult or something.” Dee smiled a little, lifting a duffle bag from Bikky's shoulder. “I don't have a spare room, but I think I found you a space.”

 

“If you think I am sleeping in the tub…” Bikky tried to joke, more self conscious then he could ever remember being.

 

“No way, then where would I put my meth lab?” Dee smiled a little; carrying Bikky's bag over to the alcove he had turned into what he hoped was home. Bikky tag after him, about to say something about Dee's Meth lab, but the words died on his tongue.

 

“Holy…” Bikky remembered the alcoved window seat from being here before, but now, “What were you like, on trading spaces, or something?” Bikky took a few steps closer, touching the colorful mosaic Dee had continued on the wall the alcove was set in, deep jewel toned tiles, cool to the touch. Deep blue curtains had been hung, along with a sheerer set; both pulled back to either side and tied with two of Dee's old ties.

 

“Not exactly.” Dee stood back, watching, hoping Bikky liked it.

 

“You did this yourself?” Bikky almost whispered, sitting down on the mattress that had replaced the cushioning that had been there before, the bed was neatly made, a dark purple comforter folded back at one corner to reveal shaded blue sheets with tiny silver stars.

 

“Yeah… I ran out of things to do yesterday…” Dee smiled a little, sitting down next to him, watching as Bikky craned his head to look at the mural covering the inside of the alcove. At the very top of the arch was blue so dark it was almost black, stars painted on it carefully. Going down one side it slowly faded to purple, with the silhouette of a boy going for a lay up, basketball balanced on his fingertips. A jagged white boarder of sheet music separated that from the remaining scene, a tree, in full green, standing alone on a hill, a storm pounding around it, the dark gray paint Dee had used swirling into perfect thunderheads, the yellow just right for the jags of lighting. The green of the hill went all the way down to where the wall met the wood of the bench. On the other side, the dark night sky faded into a gray sky over an ocean on one half, and a brilliant sunset on the other. There was a thing winding rainbow boarder, almost level with the music boarder on the other side, below that was a cityscape at night, the black buildings against a dark sky, little white-yellow lights in the windows. Down from the ceiling hung a small paper Japanese lantern, a light bulb inside, Bikky's own personal reading light. Unable to find a good way to put shelves up in the alcove, Dee had found two nightstands at the `Twice but Nice' down the street, and had put them on either side of the alcove. One of the nightstands had three shelves, the other had a door, he just hopped it was enough space.

 

Bikky spent a long time gazing at the diligent artwork around him, before turning to look at Dee, unable to believe the time and dedication that had gone into his `space'.

 

“You did this for me?” Bikky asked quietly, watching Dee's face closely.

“Of course I did.” Dee smoothed a hand over Bikky's blonde hair. “I know I'm not exactly worlds best dad, or dad period. But you're my number one homey, ya know?”

“Your number one homey?” Bikky made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes without meaning it. “Yeah well, thanks. You know, for everything.” Bikky said more seriously, still watching his ex-step-guardian, or whatever Dee was.

“What?” Dee smiled a little, feeling Bikky's scrutiny. “Do I have broccoli in my teeth?”

“No, you just look different.” Bikky said after a moment of thought, trying hard to put his finger on just what about Dee looked different.

“Huh, well, I haven't even cut my hair recently, don't know what it could be.” Dee rubbed Bikky's back with a hand, looking down at him.

“No.” Bikky shook his head smiling a little “So what's for dinner?”

“I should have known that would be the first thing on your mind, you got a hollow leg or something?” Dee scuffed his head and gave it a push, well lets see what's in the cupboard.” Dee stood, meandering over to the kitchen, still under Bikky's scrutinizing eye.

Bikky still wasn't sure what it was that was so different about Dee. Maybe he was just seeing him in a different light, maybe all of this had aged him some. Bikky wasn't sure, he was just glad to be here at all. Not because he wanted to be with Dee, though that was part of it, but because he kind of thought Dee needed to spend time with him.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“Hey Andrew.” Dee called, tentatively sticking his head inside the Queer Studies Resource Center at NYU. Andrew was visible in behind a glass window that showed the main office of the center, seated at his desk.

 

“Dee!” Andrew looked up, giving Dee a surprised grin. “How are you? Come in.” He stood up, getting a crutch under him and limping out into the main room.

 

“Ah, well I'm okay.” Dee smiled faintly, shaking Andrew's hand when it was offered to him. “I just thought I would stop by.”

 

Andrew eased himself onto one of the two couches in the center, wedged between bookshelves and a central table and chairs. “I'm glad you did. Lyn called Ryo a couple weeks ago, and we heard that you two split up. We've been worried, but it was a little awkward to ask Ryo for your number.”

 

Dee sat too, careful not to bump Andrew's legs as he did. “You could have. It - it wasn't too messy. Well, I mean, breakups are always messy, but we're amiable.” Dee shrugged.

 

“I figured it couldn't have been too bad, since Lyn is drawing up two party adoption papers and shared custody agreements.” Andrew patted Dee's knee. “But still. I'm glad you're hanging in there.”

 

“Chillin' like a villain.” Dee smiled a little, leaning back slowly, lacing his fingers behind his head “So, how are Lyn and the girls?”

 

“Good, good. Lyn's been eating right, I swear Kei's grown two inches since you last saw her. We're a little worried about Annie, she's still just so shy, and not a word out of her, and she's almost one. We know its there though, she signs like a fiend.”

 

“They say Einstein didn't say a word until he was like five.” Dee shrugged. “Maybe she's just waiting until she has something important to say.”

 

“Some how I doubt its going to be `e=mc²' not that she isn't bright, but it's a bit preemptive to call her genius.”

 

“Hey this is America, you queer commie pinko bastard. We don't need evidence to wave our dick around.” Dee chuckled, shaking his head. “What are you, un-American?”

 

“I plead the fifth. If I say anything I will probably end up surrounded by INS.” Andrew shook his head too, also chuckling. “Though some how I doubt you stopped by to talk about my political loyalties.”

 

“Ha! That's what you think. Okay, no, I'm not.” Dee held his hands up in surrender. “I may have an ulterior motive for dropping in.” Dee grew more serious now, glancing around the center, not wanting to make eye contact.

 

“What's on your mind?” Andrew too grew more serious. He didn't know Dee real well, he had only met him the couple of times Dee had been over with Ryo and Bikky, but he felt fairly secure in his understanding of the man, and he suspected Dee was about to swallow a nice big chunk of pride and ask a favor.

 

“Well… since Ryo and I broke up, I keep thinking I want to do something to better myself. I -- I'm struggling with this -- this breaking up thing, I know I am. I keep telling myself I was a fool for giving that up. I'll never do any better.”

 

Andrew listened as Dee spoke, patting his knee again. Dee had to be hurting, to just start emoting like this. Andrew's heard went out to him.

 

“So, I kind figure I need to be proactive, ya know? I could sit around and bitch all day, or I can do something, right? I made a list of all my short comings.”

 

“You know that's not likely to help, emotionally abusing yourself.” Andrew said quietly, suspecting good ol' catholic guilt at work.

 

“It's not like that. Let me finish. I made a list; so I could work on changing those things, maybe feel a little better about myself. I gotta tell you, uneducated was in the top five.” Dee cleared his throat. He had no intention of bringing up one and two. “So I want to try and fix that. I was accepted as a student here last week.” He smiled a little.

 

“Congratulations man.” Andrew smiled “that's awesome. Its hard to go back to school once you're all grown up, or pretending to be.”

 

“Thanks, problem is, I'm still dumb as a box of rocks. I'm no smarter than I was last time I was in school, just more dedicated. I was wondering if you'd… give me a hand?” Dee cleared his throat again, turning his lighter in his fingers. This conversation would have been a helluva lot easier if he could light up. Then again, smoking was in the top ten of things wrong with him.

 

“I'd be glad to give you a hand Dee. What are you taking?” the blonde was taking small mental notes of his companion, starting to sense a delicate situation.

 

“Well, that's just it. I haven't registered for classes. I don't know what I should take.”

 

“Are you aiming for a degree? Or just taking classes for your own piece of mind?” Already, Andrew was reaching for his course catalogue, and opening it on his lap. “And day classes or night classes?

 

“Day, but not too early, I've been working third shift, but I'm switching to second. Nothing before ten and nothing after four.” Dee shifted close, to look at the course catalogue Andrew had opened in his lap. “I would like to get my BA. I've got an AA in Criminal Justice.”

 

“So, majoring in CJ still?” Andrew asked. “Do you have your transcripts with you?”

 

“One step ahead of you.” Dee pulled out two sheets of paper folded in fourths, unfolding them and trying to smooth them out over his thigh.

 

The two men spent nearly two hours pouring over the courses and majors, Andrew reading each description out loud to Dee, letting Dee take notes in his illegible chicken scratch. It was late afternoon when Dee walked out of the Queer Studies Center, but he felt better about his life, himself. He would never be an intellectual like Ryo, or Andrew, or Lyn, but that didn't mean he had to be a street thug.

 

After a promise to keep Dee's new double life under his hat, Andrew invited him over to dinner the next day, to spend time with his little family, sensing Dee's isolation. Dee felt life was looking up, at least a little. He didn't have Ryo any more, but maybe, he didn't need him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

 

It had been six months, almost as long as they had been together, even though it felt like longer. Ryo had tried to talk himself up to dating on more then one occasion, until he realized he had no clue how to meet someone. He hadn't dated since college. He had never `dated' Dee, not really, nor had he had to make the first move.

 

His handful of relationships in high school and college had been clinical, passionless. He had dated the `right' girls. White girls, girls from money, protestant girls, well mannered, well bred; like himself. Ryo had dated the `perfect' match kind of girls, the ones that would blend into what was left of his family flawlessly, and he into theirs. He had met them through his aunt, or through friends, always a third party had introduced them. They had always been `cute' together `a good couple'. He had no emotion towards it now, as he looked back. No fond recalls of first kisses, or the first time he copped a feel or lost his virginity. He remembered it just fine, but it meant nothing to him. He couldn't even remember one of their names.

 

Ryo knew from listening to various bawdy stories at the precinct, and even a casual mention or two by Dee that `the bar' was a good place to meet women. Or men. He couldn't imagine that scenario though, himself sitting on a bar stool with a beer he didn't enjoy and what? Turning to the closest lady and buying her a drink? Yeah right. Ryo refused to admit he was shy, preferring to consider himself a `watcher', but approaching a complete stranger with no preset topic of conversation made his stomach turn. Nor could he see himself finding a datable prospect on the job. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't going to find it in butch policewomen, or gum chewing receptionists with Jersey accents.

 

Another day, like the hundred and eighty that came before it since Dee left and he was still chasing these thoughts around in his head. Find a woman, marry a woman, have children, passion was not important, passion could be learned. It was a new mantra, a new battle cry. Passion can be learned.

 

Ryo repeated this to himself as he prepared a quick meal for Bikky and himself, pausing every now and then to snap a rubber band around his wrist if his thoughts turned back to Dee, or men in general. Aversion therapy, wasn't it wonderful?

 

The ringing of the phone sliced through his thoughts and the background chatter of the TV and Ryo's heart missed a beat then thumped twice. Dee! His heart exclaimed, leaping at the phone. He still called sometimes, usually just to verify plans for who had Bikky.

 

“Hello?” Ryo heard strain in his own voice as he snapped the rubber band on his wrist, trying to slow his heart thundering in his chest as he waited for the voice to come through the line and identify his caller.

 

“Ryo, sweetie, is this a bad time?” Elena's voice was concerned and slightly confused.

 

“No, Elena, I'm sorry, I just burnt my finger on the stove. How are you?” he tried to sound glad to hear from her, he was, but his heart had sunk like lead, no Dee.

 

“Oh dear, is it blistering? Run some cold water over it.”

 

“No, really its fine. I haven't talked to you in ages.” Ryo gave his red wrist one more snap for good measure before adjusting the phone held between his ear and shoulder and returning to his cooking.

 

“I know! I thought I would call during dinner since I knew you would be home. I'm fine, how are you, other then burned.” A chuckle bubbled in his aunt's voice.

 

“Oh, I'm alright. SSDD.”

 

“How can you say that? I can't imagine being a cop can be routine. Well, anyway, I did call for a reason, I have to admit.” Loving and brisk, that was his aunt.

 

“You, have an ulterior motive, surely you jest.” It was Ryo who chuckled this time.

 

“I'm not kidding and don't call me Shirley. Listen, do you remember my friend Sandra? She has a daughter a little younger then you, went to Calvary Academy?”

 

“Um, red head?” Ryo guessed, trying to recall who the hell Sandra was, let alone her daughter.

 

“No no, blonde, real petite, she was a cheerleader, she has that scar on her face?” Elena obviously expected him to remember this girl.

 

“Oh, yeah, um, Mary wasn't it?” Ryo flinched; it had been the scar that had triggered his memory. She was still pretty but it wasn't like it was unnoticeable. God, how shallow was he?

 

“Yes, Mary. Anyway, Sandra is having this society function, and you know how it is. Apparently Mary is currently without a beau, and I thought you two might be a good match, unless of course you've found someone without telling your dear old aunt.”

 

Ryo felt his eyes cross, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire pace of his aunt's monologue. Realizing he had been asked a question, Ryo cleared his throat.

 

“No, there isn't anyone, I mean, its not like I have a lot of time and all. When is this quote unquote society function?”

 

“Oh lets see, two weeks, on the twelfth, that's a Saturday, it's a day thing, starts at eleven. What do you think?”

 

Ryo snapped his rubber band again, forcing himself to check his calendar. He was free. “Sure, sounds great. What should I wear?”

 

 

 

 

 

Authors Note: Okay I finally got around to sticking parts one and two of chapter ten together, and here we are. I am also posting the first half of chapter eleven, so hopefully you will enjoy that as well.