Disclaimer: This story features among other things love and intimacy, both emotional and physical, between two men. This by definition makes it a gay story. If you are offended by or not interested in this, or if reading this is illegal at your age or in your locality, please leave now. I am not going to bail you out of jail for it unless you're cute. All the usual disclaimers apply.
A quick note about naming: the first installment of Road Trip included chapters 1 and 2 (filename road-trip-1 on Nifty), from there on it's one chapter per file, so although there is no "road-trip-2" file no chapters are missing in action or taken POW.
My apologies for not writing more or faster. One of the similarities between Micha and the reality I live in is that I, too, am self employed and trying to get my own company started. That takes up quite a lot of time.
Thanks again to Larry for trying to get the correct usage of the English language through my thick skull. A good editor is an author's best friend.
Feedback is highly appreciated and will be answered. ct@fangorn.xs4all.nl .
Always remember: Keep it Consensual, Safe and Sane out there...
CT
Copyright notice: (C) Copyright 2003 by the author, reachable as ct@fangorn.xs4all.nl. A non-exclusive license to display is granted to Nifty Archives and its mirrors. Copying and format conversions are allowed for personal use only provided this copyright notice stays intact. You are not allowed to repost or reuse this story outside the Nifty Archives without the author's explicit written permission, except as allowed by the fair use clauses of relevant copyright law and the Berne convention.
Road Trip, chapter 4
4.1 Pete
Micha grins. "Yeah, fair enough. I'd expected you to ask me before you decided, actually. No, I'm not South African, although all South Africans I personally know are great people. You should know better than to go in for stereotypes. But yes, there's a similarity there. I'm Dutch, and the Afrikaans language is derived from Dutch, even if it was a couple of centuries ago. So when a Dutchman and an Afrikaner speak English you get a similar kind of accent. If I remember correctly, that movie featured Afrikaners rather than English speaking South Africans. The car is a loaner. A friend had it sitting in the driveway, and said that I could have it for as long as I wanted if I could get it running again. Where I'm going? Eventually back to Maine to drop the car off and then fly back home, although when and by what route even I don't know yet. The IT crash has been good to me, so I've got both the time and the money to travel around - seeing places, meeting friends and all that. And I've got some business that I'm trying to put together, so that means business meetings here and there. How about dessert?"
"Yeah, sounds good. I'd like some apple pie." Heck, I'd like anything. I haven't eaten this well, or this much, for weeks. Macaroni and ketchup gets boring after a while but at least it's cheap.
Micha quickly orders two pieces of apple pie. "Still, my short term plans are to go to Portland for a couple of days, then head down into California to see a friend of mine in Redding. Beyond that, I don't have any firm plans."
The pies arrive and while we eat I continue staring at him. He keeps smiling. God, I must look like an idiot. At least there isn't anyone else around, except for the restaurant staff. All too soon the pies are gone. He signals the waiter and pays. "OK, that was some good food. Let's get out of here." With that he gets up and walks around the table to help me get up. After putting the jacket back on me he puts his arm around my shoulder and starts leading me out the door. I flinch.
He looks at me with concern in his face. "What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"
"No, but we should be more careful in public. This is going to attract trouble."
Micha looks into my eyes, his face more serious than I have ever seen it before. "No. There will be no more trouble, I think." I look at him with the obvious question written across my face. "Just follow my lead if anything happens, and give me a bit of space."
I force myself to relax and lean into his embrace, but I can feel the eyes of the waiter burning into my back. This is going to be trouble, one way or another. And Micha is probably going to get hurt along with me.
We get back in the car. I try to get comfortable in the passenger seat, my ribs and bruises still hurting me. Micha slides into the driver's seat, almost wearing the car like a comfortable pair of shoes. Even though he drives fast, with one hand on the wheel and one hand resting on the transmission selector, I feel safe. I slowly relax and put my arm on the center armrest, next to his. Our arms touch through the fabric of our clothes.
4.2 Micha
I feel Pete's arm touching me and glance sideways, unaccustomed to the sensation. I usually travel alone, or with people I don't have a physical relationship with. It feels good, having someone I love next to me, touching me even as I'm driving. As I think about this Pete slides his arm forward and puts his hand over mine on the transmission selector. I look to the side at Pete for a moment. He sits there, eyes cast down, smiling, shy, unsure, and starts to withdraw his hand. I spread my hand, allowing our fingers to intertwine. "It's OK, Pete. In fact it's better than OK. Please leave your hand there." His face lights up. "I've traveled alone for years, never realizing how good it can be to have someone you love with you. Sorry if I screw up, this is sort of new for me."
4.3 Pete
I look up at Micha in surprise. Until now he has seemed quite sure of himself. I can hardly believe what he just said...
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No."
"But..."
"But I seem to know what I'm doing? Improvisation. I'm good at it."
"Shit. If you're good when improvising, you must be scary when you know what you're doing."
"I guess... There's only two things I'm really good at from experience: computers and cars. Computers for fun and work, cars for fun and pocket money. I'm expected to be good at decision making and working under pressure. I'm used to getting called up in the middle of the night and being out there alone, having to fix a system with a hundred grand an hour riding on the system being online. Intimacy and relationships aren't much a part of my experience base."
That last line was delivered in a slightly flat tone, barely noticeable, but I don't feel it'd be wise to pry any further. We drive the rest of the way back in silence, my hand still resting on his, our fingers woven together.
4.4 Micha
I didn't handle that too well. I've made my choices, or rather not made choices, and lived a pretty good life so far. The fact that ignoring relationships also meant a kind of loneliness wasn't Pete's problem, and I shouldn't bother him with that. It hadn't bothered me very much until I met Pete. I keep driving back to the hotel, brooding. Pete's hand is still on mine, so apparently I haven't completely scared him off yet.
We get back to the motel, and try to finalize our plans for tomorrow. Pete, after all, is pretty much moving out of his apartment, and away from the first 21 years of his life.
"Pete, there's something you need to give some thought to. The rent is running out on your apartment, and you're going to be traveling with me for some time, and hopefully getting set up elsewhere. We can't possibly take everything you own with us right now. Do you know of somewhere you could park the truck and store whatever is in your apartment? I don't think it's smart to leave the truck near the roadside for a couple of months. Whatever's in your apartment will need to be moved out anyway."
"There's not much to move. Most of the furniture came with the apartment, so it's just my computer, my books, and some clothes and personal stuff. Maybe Mike, the guy who got me my job, will let me park the truck on his property. He's the closest thing to a friend I have here. At least he is still speaking to me."
"You'll have to call him first thing in the morning then. Clear out your apartment, move out, put your stuff in the truck and get it parked. Are there any self-storage places around here, just in case Mike says no?"
"There's one or two in Steamboat Springs. Steamboat's about half an hour from home. But I don't think I can afford that."
"Don't worry about it if it comes to that."
"Why? Why are you doing all this for me?"
"Duty, honor, love... Call it whatever you want to call it."
"Duty?"
"Did you ever hear the saying 'If you save someone's life you become responsible for him' ?"
"Yes. Buddhist, right?"
"Chinese, but close enough for government work. The scope of that responsibility is open to interpretation."
"But why is it duty? Are you some kind of Zen guy?"
"No, but it's still a darn good philosophy, I think. Trust me, if you'd turned out to be some kind of asshole or idiot you'd be either back home or in a hospital by now; alone, I might add. I think duty ended some time ago."
"You mean... "
"Yes. I love you, Pete. And you're the first person I've said that to. Dammit, now I'm the one blurting out my feelings. Sorry."
4.5 Pete
Micha really does look unhappy, his eyes downcast, a pained look on his face. Why? I get up from the bed where I'd sat down. "Don't be." I walk over to him and pull him into a hug, one hand around his waist, one behind his neck. "You've just made me the happiest man on earth." I look into his eyes. "And I'm honored." I move my hand to tilt his face up, and kiss him. He flinches. Have I pushed too far, too fast? I hope not. He soon relaxes in my arms and starts kissing me back.