"Sure, Dad. I'm seeing Dr. 'C' in a few minutes. But I'm feeling a lot better now, so I'm hoping she calls the the dogs off and lets me out tonight," Pete said into the phone. With bed angle raised up to its upper limit and a pile of thin white hospital pillows as support, Peter was now sitting up as he slowly regained his energy.
Marty smiled as he heard the comment, then asked him to check-up on how his sister was doing.
Peter spoke into the phone, and then looked back up at Marty. "He says she's not there yet."
As he returned a tense expression, Marty reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt for his own phone. "I think I should try to call her," he said as he punched in the speed dial number.
As Peter told his Dad that he'd call him back in a few minutes, he pulled back the covers and began to swing his legs over the edge of the bed until Marty's free hand landed on his shoulder, gently pressing him back into the pillows.
"Angie?" he quickly said into the phone as he released Peter. "Are you OK?" Is everything all right?"
Peter saw him shake his head in the affirmative, and then a slight smile came onto his face as he continued to listen and nod his head.
"By the way, it sounds like you're getting a sore throat. How are you feeling?" he asked into the phone, as Peter saw some of the tension return to his face. "Uh huh...uh huh...well, maybe you shouldn't be out in the cold much longer you think, no?" he asked, then Peter heard him follow up with a question about when she'd be back.
After listening to several minutes more of uh-huhs' and OKs' from Marty, his expression finally morphing into a more continuous smile, Peter finally heard his say, "Ok, great, we'll see you then. And stay warm in the car" he said as quickly snapped shut the cover on the phone and put it back into this pocket.
"They ended up going to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and then he gave her a tour around the rather frozen lakefront, then it was off for some pizza," he told Peter, who was making another futile attempt get out of bed before Marty gave him his best `stay there' staredown along with another firm grip on his shoulder.
"That was really nice of him," Marty said, as he again gently pushed Peter back into the pillows.
"What was that about her not sounding good?" Peter asked as he re-adjusted himself to his `bed bondage,' as he called it.
"She's like you," he replied, "she doesn' like to admit when she's not feeling well, especially with me. I don't know why, maybe she doesn't want to worry me" he said, his voice now more hushed than the moment before on the phone. "She wants to keep driving around, but Todd has insisted on taking her back. Even he can tell she doesn't sound good."
"And she wants to keep going, right" Peter said, the look on his face knowing exactly how she feels.
"Of course. But it sounded like Todd is being very diplomatic about making her realize that she should go home."
Finally accepting his fate, Peter placed is arms behind his head, doing his best to be a good patient. "I think he's a bit smitten with her," he declared.
"hmmm...well, it looks like it," Marty replied with a smile. "He seems to give her a lot of attention and all, and is certainly going out of his way to entertain her and all, so I guess I'd say yes."
"Does he have a chance?" Peter asked.
"Well, she's not seeing anyone right now, and it's been a while since she's been in even a semi-serious relationship. In fact, I don't think I'd call any of them real boyfriends[C. M.1]."
"Who I'm sure you seriously vetted!" Peter exclaimed.
Marty smiled sheepishly. "Well, I guess I do feel sort of responsible for her and all...but...no, to be honest, I've never butted in on this stuff for her, it's her life. When she has asked me in the past, though, I've certainly shared my opinion. But only when she's asked.
"Any questions this time?"
"No, she hasn't mentioned anything to me, really. But I do know one thing, though, maybe I shouldn't say it."
"Oh jeeze...come on, now you've got me interested. Spill it!" Peter pleaded.
"Well, I know that she likes guys for who they are and all that, the physical stuff isn't so important to her and all..."
"Yes, and...?" Peter demanded.
"She does kind of like tall guys, I do know that. But again..." he interjected, not wanting to give the wrong impression "It's really the guy and not the physical stuff for her."
"Well, I won't let Todd know that he's starting with an advantage. I'm sure it doesn't really mean anything either, but, hey, it least it's not a roadblock."
Dr. Chiang had barely gotten out the door when Peter threw off the covers yet again in his quest to finally get out of the bed and on his way home.
"Whoa! take it easy there, boy! We've got time," Marty ordered, as Peter was just about to reach down for his bag of clothes at the edge of the bed.
"I guess I should slow down a bit, huh?" he asked, pausing for a moment. "I just want to get out of here, that's all."
"I know, babe, I know. Me too. But we can take our time, there's no rush, you should still take it easy," he said with smile, as reached over and lightly squeezed Peter's scalp with his hand "Besides, your Pop wanted me to call him before we left, so let me go ahead and do that right now."
Remaining on the edge of the bed until Marty had hung up, Marty finally nodded permission for him to retrieve his clothes. He kept himself steady against the edge of the bed as he removed the hospital smock, not bothering to go into the private bath to change as Marty `stood gurad' at the door.
As Peter finished dressing, Marty collected all the entertainment items which he had brought in earlier. He was stuffing the last magazine into the bag when he saw Peter start to stumble.
Immediately throwing down the bag and rushing over, he grabbed Peter around his chest as he teetered over the edge of the guest chair.
"You OK?!" he asked. "You still feel sick?"
"No, no, it's not that..." he replied, reaching his hand back on Marty's shoulder to steady himself.
"Then what is it?"
Peter loosened his grip only slightly as he seemed to be getting bearings.
"I...um get this way a little bit, sometimes, kind of when I'm weak. It's nothing to do with the pneumonia, but with the ear stuff. Parts of your inner ear help you to keep your balance, but mine decides to get a little wacky sometimes.
"Gosh, it never looked like it affected you in soccer at all," Marty said, his voice almost incredulous.
"No, it usually doesn't, just sometimes when I'm not feeling so good, or my resistance is weak, I guess," he said quietly as he sat back down on the edge of the bed.
As Marty sat down beside him, Peter leaned against him for support. After a noticeable sigh, he rested his head on Marty's shoulder, trying to collect himself and give his ear a chance to recalibrate.
As he finally started to get up again, Marty's strong hand landed firmly on his leg.
"Just a bit longer, OK?" Marty whispered into his good ear.
Peter nodded in return. "OK, let's just give it a couple minutes, I'll be fine, but you might want to...," he said before pausing.
"Want to what?"
"Um...just walk next to me kind of close at the beginning, just in case."
"No worries," Marty replied as he rubbed his cheek into Peters.
After a few more minutes of rest, Peter regained some confidence in his balance and got himself back into his street clothes. After what he thought was the final touch, zipping up his down jacket, he lightly bounced himself on his feet, ready to practically run out of the hospital even though he was still fatigued and had a little bit of dizziness. He picked up his bag and was about to lead them both out the door when Marty gently pulled on the edge of his jacket.
As Peter turned around, Marty pulled a wool scarf from his pocket and carefully wrapped it around his neck before retrieving a ski hat from the other pocket. Then, like rabbits from a hat, he then pulled out gloves that had been stuffed, alongside the scarf, in the first pocket.
"What do you have for yourself?" Peter asked.
"Nothing right now, besides this flannel shirt," he replied, "But it's pretty thick. And besides, I can be out in the cold a lot easier than you can. I'll go get the car and pull it out front, and then you'll hop in."
In spite of what Marty had said, Peter was about to take off the hat when Marty reached over and held it firmly on his head. "You need it more than I do. It needs to stay right where it is!" he demanded.
"But it's cold our there. I'll wear the scarf and you..." Peter pleaded.
"No negotiating! You're wearing both! Understand?" he ordered, gently stroking Peter's scalp as he maintained his firm grip on the hat.
Since it was winter, it was already dark outside when they left the recently plowed parking lot of the hospital. They had only been on the main commercial street for a few blocks when Peter spotted the brightly lit lobby of the chocolate store that they had seen earlier on their way into town. He was especially entranced by a woman coming out with a shopping bag overflowing with the store's specially wrapped boxes.
"You know, we might go Christmas shopping tomorrow. I know I'll be feeling better, and I really need to start thinking about what I'm getting for everyone. And it might be good to start getting some chocolate santas and stuff like that to have around the house, too."
Marty could feel the sudden exhilaration and excitement in his voice as he reached over and put his hand on Peter's leg. He was about to scold him again, remind him of what he needed to do to recover. `Rest, rest and more rest,' as the Doctor said. Nothing complicated about that. But he couldn't quite get the discouraging words out, at least not now.
"Are you hungry for some chocolate?" Marty asked.
Peter visibly brightened up even more. "Well, as a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind stopping now, it's really a neat place, lots of cool stuff. I'm not real hungry for it right now, of course, but I know I will be, and other people will be, too. Bik and Robert love it, and so does everyone else" he said as he gazed out the window of the car. "I think that a chocolate Santa Claus is just a big part of a nice Christmas, you know, even if we don't eat them right away."
Marty flipped on his left signal to turn back around at the next intersection. "We can stop for just a few minutes, Marty said, "if you promise to stay in the car. I'll go in and get whatever you'd like to have right now, including buying a couple of chocolate Santas. We've got a week and a half before Christmas, and there'll be time to get more when you're feeling better."
"What if I promise to keep my Michelin Man look that you've got me in here," he suggested, referring to the thick down jacket, scarf and hat that Marty had encased him in. "I won't be out in the cold for long if you can park right in front."
"You don't ever give up," Marty joked, "do you?"
There was a pause before Peter answered as he looked out the car window at the other traffic going by. "I don't think I can," he replied.
Angie tried to be as quiet as possible as she laid an additional glass of water on the sidetable next to Peter's bed. It appeared as if he was sleeping, but just as she was turning to leave she heard him ask what time it was.
"It's 9:30," she replied, "you've been sleeping for a really long time, ever since you got in last night.
"Sorry, didn't hear you, jus a sec," he said as he reached over to the nightstand to search for his hearing aid. The room was itself kept quite neat and tidy, but the nightstand was overflowing with sundry life accessories such as a clockradio, lamp, tissues, a glass of water, and his wallet, phone, hearing aid and a picture of Marty provided by his Pop, just to name the most important. He had to search around a bit before he finally found it, placing it around his ear before sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes.
Looking around, clearly still disoriented from the unusually deep sleep, he took a moment to get his bearings.
"How are you doing this morning?" he asked quietly, his speech slightly mumbled. "Looks Todd got you back here OK."
"I'm fine, and yes, he got me back here OK. But I think the question is more appropriately direct at you. How are you doing this morning?"
"Me? Oh, much better. They gave me some antibiotics, which usually do the trick pretty quickly, at least for me," he answered, trying to stifle a yawn, "though they kind of knock me out sometimes."
Looking around the room and then craning his neck to see out into the hallway, he asked about Marty.
"Your Dad asked him to go food shopping with him," she said. They'll be back soon. But he wanted me to make sure that you had some more water, just in case you had finished off the other glass.
"He usually gets up first and always has water on the nightstand for me in the morning. I guess I cough a lot on some days, so he makes sure I have some when I wake up," Peter said. "You know, it does help. I used to just go to the kitchen for it after coughing, but now it's kind of nice to have it here when I wake up," he continued as he started in on the fresh supplies, finishing off almost half the glass with only a few big gulps.
"ahhh..." he exclaimed, then rested his head back on the bed.
"Should I let you rest. I don't want to bother you or keep you awake," she asked.
"No, you're not bothering me at all," Peter insisted as he was rapidly making his way to the totally awake state. "I like the company. Just let me hit the bathroom and I'll be right back,"
"Oh, by the way, can you turn around for just a second?" He asked, before actually getting out of bed, an embarrassed smile on his face.
"Of course. Only Marty has the privilege of seeing you in your underwear," she teased before turning to face the window.
"By the way, do you need an help?" Marty said you've been getting dizzy spells.
"I feel OK now, so I'll be fine, I think," he replied as he slipped out of bed and quickly put on the black sweatpants marked with his school insignia. "OK, the coast is clear" he declared as he tied the string around his tight waist before dashing out to the bathroom next door.
When he came back in the room he saw Angela standing by the window, her shape silhouetted by whirling snowflakes from a brewing storm outside.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked as he crawled back into bed.
She smiled in response, though Peter couldn't see it as she continued to look out the window. "I'm OK. I probably sounded worse than I felt. But Todd insisted on getting me something for it. When we were leaving the Hall of Fame, he even went and got the car and warmed it up before picking me up at the lobby. That was nice of him."
"Did you have a good time?" Peter asked, anticipating an intense interrogation from Todd.
She didn't answer at first, and he still couldn't make out her expression.
"Yes I did. It was...nice," she finally answered, before she went back to sit in the comfy lounge chair that his Pop had put in the larger bedroom.
"So..." he said, plumping a couple pillows up behind himself so he could sit up easier. "What did you guys do on the Grand Tour yesterday?"
"It was really interesting. I have to say, it's really cool here, the lake is beautiful even when it's frozen, the art museum has a great collection, and some of the neighborhoods around here are pretty nice, especially near the lake," she said before sneezing.
"Oh, you want a tissue?" Peter asked as reached over and grabbed the tissue box.
"Thanks," she replied.
"Marty said you sounded hoarse yesterday, but you sound OK to me today."
"Todd kind of insisted, very nicely I should say, that I should get something for my throat before it gets worse."
"That's what you get when your Dad does medical research," Peter replied.
"Yes, and it sounds like he'd like to do research, too, while at the same time playing professional basketball," she said with a laugh.
"Yea, he loves chemistry and science and stuff like that. As far as the basketball part goes, he really likes that, too. He was a star in high school. But he's more interested in intellectual stuff, so I think that he's resigned himself to a future in the stands rather than on the court."
Peter found her attitude somewhat inscrutable. She clearly enjoyed her time with Todd, but didn't betray any intense emotions or confide any particular thoughts about him. It continued to be mostly small talk until they heard commotion in the kitchen below, which they assumed was Marty and Pete's Dad returning home from shopping.
"By the way," Peter interjected on hearing the voices downstairs, "I'm really sorry how much I worried everyone, especially Marty. Jeeze, if it had been the other way around I would have been freaking out. He really calmed me down, at least as much as anyone could. He did a lot better than I could have done."
"Well, I think you did worry him, though I don't think that he would agree on the second point."
Peter stared through the multiple panes of the window glass at the now-raging storm outside. "I don't know, Angela. He's a much stronger person that I am, I depend on him so much. It's so clear to me"
"That's not what he thinks," She replied. "I think he has just the opposite opinion."
"I guess I don't know how he'd ever feel that way," he replied, still looking out the window. "Isn't it obvious to you?"
She had to stifle a smile. "I think you're both strong people, Peter. You have that in common. You're both not perfect, but you both know who you are."
"And I'm a wimp," he replied, folding his arms across his chest as he continued to look outside.
Angie shook her head and smiled to herself, but then became serious. "The only thing I'll say is that my brother could not deal with a wimp, or rely on one, or get support from one. And sometimes, though he has trouble admitting it, he needs support himself."
The both just listened to the now-howling wind for another few moments, until Angela cleared her throat and spoke.
"I know that Marty told you about what happened to him back home, Peter. But he probably didn't tell you everything."
Peter was stunned by the comment. What else could there be?' he thought to himself How could it be worse?'
"Um...yes, he did. I think he told me as much as he thought he could," he finally replied.
She hardly moved when she spoke, except for rubbing the edge of her sweater and pulling it closer around her. "He wouldn't tell you this, but I think that you need to know, to really understand my brother," she said before continuing with the basic outlines of the story that Peter already knew.
"But Peter, that guy didn't just assault him. He beat the shit out of him. I think he was trying to kill him. When I got the neighbors up there and opened the door, I...oh God..." she said, not able to continue for a moment. "They had to pull that bastard off of him. But even then, Marty kept flailing his arms like he was going crazy, until he noticed me."
"I couldn't believe what had happened," she continued, "His pants were off and his face was red and bruised, and...there was blood running down the back of his leg." She said, her eyes starting to blink a lot."
"And do you know what he did next?" she asked.
Peter just shook his head, he himself almost in a daze by now.
"He asked me if I was OK! Me! I was fine! He had just gotten...raped..." She said, struggling with the word, "and he was asking me if I was OK!"
"I just ran to him and tried hold him up, but he kept asking me if I was OK until I said, "yes! Yes!" I'm fine"
"Then he just said, "good," And literally passed out in my arms. I couldn't even hold him up but used every ounce of strength I had to at least give him a soft landing on the floor."
Swallowing hard before he spoke, Peter almost couldn't get the words out himself as his mouth was suddenly dry. "He didn't tell me some of that, and I can't blame him." Peter said as he brought his arms to his face, rubbing his eyes. "And to be honest, I'm dumbfounded on how someone can do that to anyone, especially to someone as good as Marty..." he said, trailing off in his own thoughts.
"We were just lucky that the neighbors were around," Angela said. "They did so much, and were really great people. Probably a lot better than my relatives', even if they had been around. My Mom, I think she's really been in denial about it since then. I think it was just too much, especially since it was her boyfriend. But the other relatives didn't give him much support at all afterwards, except for the financial stuff that they owed anyway. It's like these types of victims everywhere, where even if it's not their fault, there's just a stigma attached to it."
"So in the end, it was just him and me. And I have to tell you, I never thought he'd really recover, and who could blame him? He became just...joyless. I mean he did things and all. And he was able to get back into academics after a year or two, which was probably as much about a quiet refuge as anything else. But getting a laugh or a smile out of him was almost impossible," she continued. "Until he met you."
"Me?" Peter responded, not quite understanding. "I think he's maybe changed a little bit, he did seem kind of serious when I first met him," he replied. Then he told her the story of Marty's panic during that first soccer match, repeating pretty much what her brother had already told her, although it was more dramatic from Peter's point of view. "But, honestly, it seems like he's hardly changed at all since I've known him."
"Because of you!" She declared, sounding like she was telling him the most obvious fact in the world. "You've only known him from the viewpoint of Peter Kovar."
"I'm not so sure of that, maybe, but I don't know," he claimed, perplexed. "What I do know is that he's so darn strong that he can come back from something like that and actually have a real life, accomplish things, making friends, keep himself going. It's a lot more than I could ever do."
"I don't think you'd get agreement with him on that, either, but I'll let you all argue that one," she said as she sat back in the chair, a slight smile on her face.
After Peter coughed and excused himself, she watched him take a swig of water then continued. "Peter, the reason I told you all this is just to..." she held back for a moment, trying to make sure that she had the right words. "I want you to know, to really know, how much you mean to him. He has bulldozed through life since then, but I felt like he just went through the motions. He only cared about us and he just shut everyone else out. But you've really changed him."
She sat up in the chair, placed both feet right on the floor, and looked directly at him. "He's opened himself up to you like no one ever in his life, and that's good. But it can be bad, too."
"Bad?" Peter asked, confused.
"Bad may not be the exact right word," she replied, "but, um...what I mean to say is that because he's opened himself up so much, that no one in the world could ever hurt him like you could. So remember that. He seems tough, but with you...he has no defenses, Peter. He's completely vulnerable."
Peter shifted in his bed, his jaw muscles tensing. "I know, Angela. I know"
"I kind of knew that you would," she replied. "But watch out for him, OK? He's not as strong as he looks."
"I will. You know, he worries about things, and I think it takes a toll on him, and I know he's really concerned about money for this next semester. I was going to..." Peter was just about to open his mouth when they both heard the creak of the stairs as a familiar voice boomed out, "I hope I find someone still in bed right now!"
Angela could see Peter's face suddenly brighten. "Except for a quick trip to the john, my feet haven't touched the floor!" Peter yelled back. "I swear!"
"I hope so!, "Marty yelled back as he now appeared at the door holding a steaming plate of homemade breakfast in his hands. Making his way to the side of the bed, he squeezed it onto the crowded nightstand before plopping down next to Peter, who slid over to accommodate him.
Peter raised his finger, motioning him to come closer. Then, just as he was about to give him a peck on the cheek, he just stared at his blond boy for a moment. Even though Jeff had said that his round face was simple, a backhanded way of saying `not attractive,' Peter almost couldn't breath for a moment. He though it was surely the most beautiful face in the world.
Only a hardening dick pulling on pubic hair got his attention back to reality and he finally gave Marty the little kiss. "Hi," he added, quietly, hoping the rapidly growing lump wasn't noticeable.
Marty just blushed and smiled. "`Hi' to you, too," he replied, squeezing Peter's leg. "Feeling OK?"
"Yea, better than yesterday. I slept really good."
"Thanks for spying on him, Angie," he said as he turned to his sister. "Any resistance?"
"I can give you a good report" she replied. "Like he claimed, only a pit stop in the bathroom, and he was right back here," she said as she got up and adjusted her sweater. "I'll let you guys alone now, I've got some studying to do before I go out again. Todd asked me if I need anyone to take me to run errands or go Christmas shopping, both of which I need. so I'd better get this work done before I go out."
"You'll be back here for dinner, though, right?" her brother asked.
She told him she'd be there, and then went off to her room to dive into her books.
Peter glanced toward the door, hoping that she was out of earshot, and then started to grill Marty. "Has she said anything to you about Todd?"
"Nothing much, except that he's a nice guy and all, fairly innocent stuff, just like before. That's about it," he replied. "Has Todd been asking?"
"I haven't seen or heard from him, but I haven't checked my emails yet, either. I'm sure there'll be something there."
"Well, you can check them in a few minutes, after you eat. I brought you some breakfast from your Dad. He says you like these," Marty said, as he retrieved the plate and placed it on Peter's lap while pulling utensils from his back pocket.
"mmm...eggs and sausage, yum!" he said as he took careful aim with his knife and fork before looking back up at Marty. "Have you had breakfast already?" he asked before poking into the plate.
"Yea, I had breakfast with your Dad's this morning," he answered. "By the way, I think that this is just what you made for me that morning when I crashed at your place, remember?"
"Oh, yea...that's right...but now you get the real version, from the master," Peter replied.
"I happened to like yours, too, ya know!" Marty said, "but your Dad's was really good, too, I must say. Then when we came back he made this CARE package for you."
"Typical," Peter remarked as he reached for his water to wash down the first bites. As usual, it tasted great, though the warm plate right on his crotch didn't do his hard-on any good.
After finishing his meal, he paused before getting out of bed to go to the bathroom again, which surprised Marty for a moment until he remembered what had happened in the hospital.
"You OK?" he asked. "Do you feel dizzy or anything?"
"Umm...yea, a little, bit. Kind of funny, I was OK earlier," he remarked. "Would you just walk beside me again, just in case, OK?"
Marty steadied him as he got out of bed for the first time that day, wrapping his arm around him as they walked slowly together to the bathroom. The only good part was that the dizziness had reduced the pee-stifling hard-on that he feared might complicate this short trip.
When they had returned, he asked Marty to sit by the bed again as he rested himself against a pile of pillows. Even though his dick rapidly got stiff again in Marty's close presence, he needed to get his serious side started for a moment.
"We need to talk about how we pay for you next semester," Peter said, before a slight cough escaped his mouth.
"We can do that later, Pete, you don't sound good, and you had some trouble walking..."
"No, no I'll be fine," he claimed before clearing his throat again. "I don't want you to worry about this money thing, and I think there's a solution."
"We really don't need to solve it now, Pete. We'll figure something out, I know, but now..."
"Like I said, don't want you to worry. What I wanted to say is that between some money I have in the bank from my modeling gigs and my Dads, I think we can cover things for both of us. There are some other things that we can do, too. We'll manage. But you should know that we can make it work."
"You've probably saved the money for some other purpose, Pete, I don't want to..."
"There's no better purpose than you," he replied, flicking his finger onto the blond hair in front of him.
Marty gave a slight laugh. "To be honest, it's not just the two weeks I'll be missing, but I don't want to worry about it right now."
"Spill it!" Peter ordered, looking him right in the eye.
Marty let out a breath of air, the kind of thing he seemed to sometimes do when he had something difficult to say. "I got kind of a not-good email this morning. One of the foundations behind of my biggest scholarship said that they got hit pretty bad in the stock market and they can only cover half of what they said they could, so it's a pretty big chunk. I've got enough to cover tuition and books and stuff, and food, but I'm not sure how I'll cover the rent, even if I did work the two weeks. It's all going to be pretty tight."
Marty didn't say anything for a moment, looking to Peter like he was deep in thought. "I'm sorry to dump this on you and all, I didn't want to, especially today. You've got bigger problems than this right now."
"I'm glad you told me. I was going to ask you something...I wasn't sure when I should do it, but now may be the time," Peter said, as he nervously placed his hands between his legs.
Marty gave him a look of confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I was...thinking of asking you...well..., I don't know, you might think it's too early and all, but I don't think so, anyway..." he continued to ramble, still unsure of himself, "I wanted to know If maybe you'd like to move in together next semester. I know it might seem kind of quick and all, but I think we could save money and, well, it would be nice and all..."
At first just staring back at him, Marty then slid slightly closer, placing his hand over Peter's outstretched legs to support himself.
"You're asking me if we could live together next semester, right?" he asked.
"Uh huh," Peter replied, a little unsure of the reaction he was getting but hoping that proximity meant something. Even in his state of nervous anticipation, he could feel his dick stiffen as Marty moved closer.
"I would really like that," he replied quietly. Even though Peter could barely hear him, the expression on his face and the presence of his body answered the question as much as words.
"Coming home at night and finding you there that would be so great" he replied. "I have to admit, I have thought about it myself."
"Really!? When did you start thinking about it?" Peter asked, the relief and excitement apparent in his voice, "Last week, or on the way up here, or...when?"
Marty looked out the window for moment, watching the snow that was now coming down more softly. "I think the first time that I heard your voice."