Chapter 13 - Talking Points.

After seeing the GhostBoy getting his shy little kink on the night before, Brian was more eager than ever to draw him out of his shell. He decided to step up his efforts to at least get the kid to talk to him. Hell, if Justin was okay with jerking off in his presence, the little haunt could at least TALK to him, right?

To that end, Brian made it a point of finishing up his afternoon reno work early enough to get in a trip to the store before dinner. After a quick shower - complete with a rather nice interlude involving his right hand, his dick, and a rather erotic image of a certain Phantom Boy - Brian got dressed and sat at his computer. A couple of clicks with the mouse easily brought up the Facetime app. And, a second later, the call was ringing through to Justin’s tablet computer.

The call rang several times. Brian was afraid for a moment that his trick wasn’t going to work. Then, just when he was about to hang up, the call was answered and the screen lit up . . . well, sort of. Brian could tell the call had been answered, because of the way the screen changed, but he couldn’t really see anything on Justin’s end of the call. Apparently, it was almost completely dark where Justin was. Brian couldn’t even see Justin’s face. The tablet seemed to be pointed so it was facing a wall - Brian could just make out some shelves, but no GhostBoy. And, to make things worse, there was no ‘hello’ in greeting.

“This is Facetime, Justin. You’re supposed to be in front of the tablet so the camera can see your face, not have the damned thing pointing at a wall,” Brian groused, shaking his head at the computer.

After a rather long pause, Justin moved the tablet around a bit so Brian could see at least the top half of his face. It was still very dark, even from this new angle, so Brian really couldn’t see anything more of Justin’s surroundings than before. He could barely see Justin’s head, for that matter. Oh well, so much for that part of his plan. But the real reason had been to try and get the kid to talk, so he’d keep trying.

“That’s a little better, I suppose,” Brian conceded, although he suspected Justin was misdirecting the picture on the call on purpose, at least partly to annoy his caller. “I’m going to the store to pick up a few things. What do you need?”

Brian could see Justin’s forehead wrinkling up in confusion but there were still no words.

“I repeat, what do you need at the store, Justin?” Brian spoke up again, this time letting a little more exasperation come out in his tone.

Brian let another thirty seconds tick by without a response before he pressed again.

“Is this question particularly difficult for you or are you just trying to piss me off?” That caused Justin to look away and down from the camera, reducing what Brian could see of the boy to just the crown of his golden-topped mop of hair. “Come on, GhostBoy. You must have gone through some of that crap I got you a few weeks ago by now. Don’t you need anything? Toothpaste? Pencils? More lube? What?” When another fifteen seconds went by in silence, Brian let his annoyance have rein. “Shit, Justin. Would you please just tell me what you need already. I’m not going to bite your head off for daring to have used up all the fucking toothpaste and I wouldn’t have asked you what you needed if I had an issue buying you stuff. So, just speak up already. I’m not getting any younger here.”

Justin’s head tilted upwards enough that Brian could once again see the gemstone blue eyes via the camera.

“Soap?”

The word came out very hesitantly and was more a question than an assertion, but all Brian cared about was that he'd succeeded in his quest to get the boy to finally talk. He'd actually been halfway wondering if the kid was mute or something, what with how reluctant he’d been to talk. Or, maybe, he’d been alone and in hiding for so long that he’d forgotten HOW to speak. But the word came out in a clear, soft tenor that dispelled any doubts Brian might have had. It meant that Brian’s shy sprite COULD speak, and therefore his reluctance wasn’t physical. Which was almost more disturbing, because it meant there were other, darker, deeper problems causing the kid’s overwhelming shyness.

But Brian couldn’t solve all his ghost’s issues in one sitting. It was going to be a long process. Getting the boy to talk was only the first step. A really big step. But Brian wasn’t going to push him any further right at that moment.

“Okay. Soap. No problem. If you think of anything more, just call or text me. Later, Ghost.”

Brian didn’t wait for a ‘goodbye’, thinking he’d already pressed his luck enough for one day. He’d got one word. That was pretty good, considering his target. He could work with that. He just terminated the call and promptly headed out on his errand.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite eye candy!” Sue Ann brayed as Brian came through the door of her little food mart about ten minutes later. “You know, Darling, I really needed a pick me up this afternoon and you’re just the ticket. Come over here and let me hug you - that way I can tell all the girls I got felt up by a tall, handsome stranger at work today and they’ll all be jealous! I’ll be the talk of the quilting club for the next month!”

Brian laughed out loud. He always got a kick out of Sue Ann’s over the top flirting. She was like Debbie Novotny on steroids. Of course, he couldn’t refuse her demand for a hug, even though he wasn’t really a ‘hug’ kind of guy. He stepped closer and let her envelope him in her lavender-perfumed embrace, even playing along sufficiently to give the lady a tiny peck on her cheek. She pecked back, a little more lingeringly. He quickly decided, though, it would be wise to pry himself out of the beldame’s arms before matters got too serious - especially since Brian soon discovered he wasn’t the one doing the feeling up.

“Down, girl! What would your husband say?” Brian teased as soon as he felt his person was safe from further molestation.

Sue Ann just shrugged noncommittally. “A lady never kisses and tells . . . so he won’t say anything,” she joked back with a saucy wink.

“Does he know just how naughty you are?”

”Of course. Why do you think he married me?” she laughed with the open, joyful, mischievous laughter Brian had come to expect of this strange woman who made his shopping trips such an entertaining experience. “Now, Sugar, not that I don’t enjoy teasing you, but I suspect you came in here for something other than my scintillating personality. What can I help you with today?”

“Well, since you’re offering . . . I’m thinking about trying my hand at cooking - I know, it’s shocking - but don’t faint before you help me find something I can cook without looking like a total loser.”

“Oh. That’s so cute. A man trying to cook.”

“Hey, you. Lots of men cook quite well, I’ll have you know,” Brian chided her. “Not me, of course, but other men cook. My friend, Emmet, for instance. He’s amazing behind a stove. Of course, he’s also the nelliest queen in Pittsburgh, but that’s neither here nor there. And since he’s not here to help me, I’m relying on you. So, do you have anything in this place that constitutes actual food?”

“Hmmmm. Are we talking dinner for one . . . Or two?” Sue Ann asked with her nosiest stare.

“Two,” Brian answered, without further explanation.

“Ahhhhh! That’s a different story. If it were just you, I’d shove a can of soup in your hand and call it good. But, if you’re entertaining company, we want to ensure you make a good impression on the young man, now don’t we,” the woman beamed at him, thrilled she’d been let in on this little tidbit of information and clearly determined to make Brian shine. “Let’s see now . . .”

A half hour later, Brian was loaded down with several shopping bags full of food and a hand written recipe for Sue Ann’s signature Pasta Salad. He was amazed that Sue Ann had managed to find all the ingredients for the dish in her rather unprepossessing little mini-mart. Before he left, though, Brian thought of one last thing, and decided to use it to press his advantage one more time.

With his phone in hand, Brian tapped at the FaceTime icon and a second later the call was ringing through to Justin.

“Hey, you,” Brian said as soon as the call was answered and he once again saw the top of Justin’s head framed by the dark wall behind him. “I’m bringing home dinner, so don’t start anything else, okay?” He got only a nod in response, but hadn’t really expected anything more so he just plowed on. “I was going to get ice cream for dessert. What do you like better?” Brian turned the phone so that the camera could see the freezer with the ice cream selections. “They’ve only really got three choices: Chocolate, Vanilla, and Mint Chocolate Chip. What’s your pick?”

Brian waited patiently, holding the phone so the camera stayed focused on the freezer, not willing to give in on this until he got a response.

Finally he got a quiet, tentative answer. “Mint. Please.”

Brian turned the camera back around so the boy would see his face and smiled. “You got it, Ghost. Later.”

“Was that your young man?” Sue Ann couldn’t help but pry as Brian took the ice cream over to the counter and added it to his other purchases.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell either, you know,” Brian cautioned her with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows which sent Sue Ann off in a paroxysm of girly giggles that belied her age.

“You certainly are a breath of fresh air in this boring little town, Brian Kinney,” Sue Ann announced as she added the ice cream to his bags of loot.

“Back at you, Ms. Sue Ann,” Brian replied, blowing her a kiss as he backed out of the door, arms full of brown paper bags, headed to his car and prepared to do battle with his kitchen in an attempt to master the highly rarified culinary arts for his resident ghost.

When Brian got back to the house, he put away all the groceries and then started right in on his dinner creation. Sue Ann’s recipe didn’t look that complicated, but Brian read it through three times just to be sure he knew what he was doing. He really wasn’t that confident in the kitchen, and he didn’t want to come off looking like a total dweeb who couldn’t even make fucking pasta. It seemed pretty straightforward though.

First he took the pre-cooked, frozen chicken breasts of out their package and set them aside. Next, he filled a large pot up with water and started that boiling on the back burner. While he was waiting for the water, he began assembling and preparing his vegetables. The recipe called for diced red and green peppers, olives, sliced tomatoes, capers and cilantro. The only item Sue Ann didn’t have in her roadside store was the fresh cilantro, but she had dug up a small can of dried parsley flakes, which she said would do in a pinch. All the rest of the items though were waiting and ready to be prepared. They’d be added to the cooked pasta along with some diced cheese, the whole concoction dressed with olive oil, and then garnished with the sliced chicken breasts on top. Elegant, filling and simple enough that even a kitchen neophyte like Brian couldn’t mess it up too much.

Or so he hoped.

Brian had just started on the tomatoes when he was startled by a small noise coming from over his right shoulder. He spun around, still holding the knife, only to find his very own spook standing there behind him in the kitchen. Justin looked apologetic and maybe a bit fearful at the fact that Brian was standing there pointing a knife at him.  

“Shit, Justin,” Brian cautioned, turning back to his work. “You shouldn’t pull that ghost stuff and sneak up on me like that. Not when I’m holding a knife, anyways. I might have cut off something important. Like a finger . . . or even worse, my dick,” Brian added, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

He noticed Justin still standing there biting at his thumbnail as if he wasn't sure how angry Brian really was. It bothered Brian that the kid was always so unsure of everything. He needed to remember that Justin was still a little too fragile for Brian’s oftentimes biting sense of humor. And, even though it wasn’t really Brian’s style, this young man needed to be handled with kid gloves. At least for the time being. Brian did hope that someday, the bright, strong, and intelligent man he’d sometimes had glimpses of, would break through that timid exterior.

“Here,” Brian held out the knife he’d been using with the blade turned down. “You can get started on the peppers. They need to be diced. Think you can handle that?”

Justin nodded and accepted the knife, allowing Brian to turn back to his own work on the tomatoes. They worked quietly, side by side, for a few minutes. It was good. The boy seemed comfortable enough, standing there next to him, working together. To Brian’s mind, that was a sign that the kid was ready for more, so he decided to press his luck and break their self-imposed rule of silence.

“Your soap is over there on the counter,” Brian tilted his head to the side to indicate the direction. “I wasn’t sure what kind of soap you wanted so I got you both shower gel and some hand soap. Sue Ann’s store didn’t have anything real nice, so you’re going to have to bear with Ivory and Old Spice - which I, personally, can’t stand, since my grandfather used that stuff and it always reminds me of the bastard every time I smell it, but whatever. If you hate it, I can get you something better tomorrow when I go into town. I have to make a trip into the home center to look at plumbing fixtures. The plumber is going to be here in a few days and I need to decide if I should go with the brushed chrome or maybe something more rugged. I saw some really nice-looking copper fixtures online, but I want to look at it in person before I shell out the bucks to buy that stuff - it isn’t cheap, you know . . .”

Brian chattered away, filling the kitchen with words, and waiting until he noticed the ghost becoming accustomed to the experience. Meanwhile, he was moving around the space, working on his dinner preparations, acting almost as if the boy wasn’t there. He had already added the pasta to the pot of bubbling water. Next, according to his instructions, he needed to pan sear the chicken breasts. And it was all going well, too, until the pasta started boiling over right as he noticed that the heat under the chicken was too high and the meat was starting to get a little burned.

He didn’t know which part of his dinner to save first.

“Damn it!” Brian cursed, shoving the small frying pan with the meat off to the side and grabbing for the pasta pot with his bare hands, only to curse again when he burned himself on the water bubbling out of big pot. “Fuck!”

Thankfully, his savior spirit boy jumped in and took the hot pot away from him before he dropped it. Justin had been smart enough to wrap a dish towel around his own hands first, of course. Once he’d relocated the pasta to a back burner over a much lower flame, he rescued the chicken as well, adding some additional olive oil to the pan to prevent the meat from sticking and burning again.

Brian watched this efficiency with a strange sense of pride. The kid definitely knew what he was doing in a kitchen and, when he wasn’t acting all self-conscious, he handled himself well, taking charge and calmly saving their dinner from complete destruction. Brian was happy to let him take over while he moved over to the sink and ran cool water over his burned fingers.  

“So, I guess it’s pretty clear who should take over the cooking duties for the household, huh?” Brian laughed as he dried off his hand and examined the damage, which was thankfully minor. “I’ve always been much better in the bedroom than I am in the kitchen, I’m afraid.” Brian’s joke was rewarded with a tiny, almost inaudible, huff of laughter coming from the little chef. “I think, maybe, I can handle some more of the prep work, though . . . Under your supervision, of course. So, what do you want me to do, Maestro?”

Justin turned and smiled up at Brian - a relaxed, confident, mirthful smile that actually reached his sparkling blue eyes - and the sight took Brian’s breath away.

The boy had always been attractive, of course. Even that old photo of him from three years before had been enough to intrigue Brian. But when that brilliant, blindingly bright smile hit you full on, in person, it was enough to blow a person away. Brian had seen a lot of attractive men over the years - hell, he’d fucked most of them - but there was just something about this boy that defied description. That realization was disturbing, as was the strange flip-flop feeling in his gut, and it took Brian a second or two to recover his usual, carefree demeanor before he noted the jar of olives that the boy was still pointing at.

With a mute nod, Brian picked up the jar, drained the olives and deftly began to slice them in half, as Sue Ann’s directions had instructed.

The rest of the evening seemed to pass by in a bit of a daze for Brian. The dinner came out alright in the end and the two men ate companionably together, but Brian was at a loss to make further conversation. Afterwards, they relocated to the couch and watched something on television, as per their usual routine, although Brian couldn’t tell you what it was. Justin seemed rather happy with his bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, his sketchpad on his knee and the noise of the television burbling away in the background. And, when the movie finished and Brian got up to head off to his solitary bed, the boy hit him once more with another of those damn, sweet, sunshiney smiles - totally throwing him all over again. Even more stupefying, the ghost actually said a polite, quiet, ‘Goodnight, Brian’, before he got up and shuffled towards the basement stairs.  

As Brian stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, he was struck by the thought that, even though he didn’t have a real ghost in his house, he was now haunted . . . by a smile he couldn’t get out of his head.