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Author's Chapter Notes:

Yay! Eggy & The Brat are back and up to more hikinx. Enjoy! TAG & Sally




Chapter 18 - Spoke Too Soon.



I couldn’t help but look at my watch, surely it was almost eight? This day felt like it had gone on forever. And my feet were starting to hurt, too.


“Don’t fret, kiddo, your shift’s up in two,” Debbie grinned as she chomped loudly on her bright pink gum. There was nothing subtle about this woman. “Make yourself useful and empty the last of those lemon bars into a bag so I can refill the display.”


I shrugged and did as I was told, although I was a little confused since we almost never emptied the display stand before restocking - we probably should, but whatever.


“What do you want me to do with these?” I asked, waving the bag of deliciously moist lemony bars in the air.


“Take ‘em home and share them with that mystery man of yours,” she beamed. “If he’s as skinny as you, I have my work cut out fattening you both up.”


I rolled my eyes but in my heart I still secretly appreciated her efforts to mother me. Debbie was obsessed with feeding ‘her boys’ and making sure everyone’s body fat was a little more than they’d like. She’d claim it was her Italian roots and that there was nothing she could do about it. But, if you wanted to live a happy life, you took whatever she gave you and ate it without too much complaining.


Just as I was putting the bars into my bag, my phone beeped, indicating I had a message. I could feel myself smiling before I’d even read what it said. My heart flippidy-flopped as I saw Brian’s name on my home screen. The message was from him as I had hoped.


‘You eat yet?’


Short and sweet was my man.


Before I had the chance to answer, Debbie was pinching my cheek - and, sadly, not the one on my face. “Go home, you’re done for the day.”


“Thanks, Deb.”


“No, thank you. Your little show at lunch kept us all nice and busy. The place was full of hungry fags . . . and I don't care that they were probably hoping and praying for a second performance, as long as it kept ‘em ordering.” She rubbed her fingers together and threw her head back laughing. “Your ASS is one of the Diner’s best assets!”


I cracked up even as my cheeks - the one’s on my face this time - started to overheat. It was definitely time to go. Deb was getting delirious after having worked for over fourteen hours. If I stayed much longer, who knows what she’d be pinching next.


“Thanks, Deb, byeee.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and practically ran out of the diner.


It was then that my phone beeped again.



‘Because if you haven’t, this is waiting for you. No fancy sandwich to go with it though.’


Brian was asking me to dinner! And I was so fucking beside myself with joy it was ridiculous. We had briefly talked about it before I left, and I even teased him a little, but I hadn’t been sure if he was serious or not. Clearly he was. I quickly texted back.


‘Getting the bus to yours now. See you in 15. I’m so hungry I can’t wait. Om nom nom.’


I got a reply back almost instantly.


‘What the actual fuck does om nom nom mean?’


I chuckled. Why the fuck did I have to try so hard to be cute? Now I felt even more silly having to explain.


‘It’s an eating noise . . . I guess it kinda means delicious as well.’


Oh well, he probably already thinks I’m nuts.


‘You’re weird. See you soon.’


I didn’t have time to text him back as my bus arrived right then and I stuffed my phone in my pocket so I could jump aboard. It was only a few stops from the Diner to my Eggy’s building, and I probably could have run it almost as fast as the bus got there, but then I would have been all sweaty and out of breath and, trust me, if I was going to get sweaty with my man it wasn’t going to be because I was jogging through the streets looking like an extra from Marathon Man. Although, as I took a seat in the very back of the bus and got a whiff of myself, I thought maybe I should have opted for that run. As it was, I stunk like the stale grease from the fryer vat at the Diner; not a perfume that I thought my OCD boyfriend would likely approve of. Maybe Eggy would let me take a shower at his place as soon as I arrived? Maybe I could talk him into taking a shower WITH me even? I mean, he couldn’t be afraid of me and my germs if we were in the process of washing those germs off, could he? But then, the more I thought about it, the more I figured that OCD probably didn’t work like that. A guy could dream, though, right? And there wasn’t anything more enticing than the idea of a dripping wet Eggy . . .


My fantasies of showering with Brian kept me busy the rest of the bus ride. When I did climb down the steps across the street from the familiar Triangle Building, I was practically desperate to see my man, french fry smell or no. I darted across the street without waiting for the light to change and had to dodge a delivery truck that almost ran me over. The driver didn’t seem mollified by the sunshiney smile I offered by way of apology, but I didn’t care. I just loped the rest of the way across the street and over to the lobby door.


And guess what? This time, the door wasn’t locked! Instead, there was a post-it note stuck to the inside of the glass that read, ‘Burglarizing Brats Welcome. (Lock the fuck up behind you!)’


Now this was progress!


I know that the smile on my face probably stretched from ear to ear as I pulled open the door and jauntily walked inside, flipping the latch to relock the door behind me. I felt like a million fucking bucks. I was IN! My man was letting me inside, and not only into his building but, I hoped, into his heart. Damn I was good!


I took my time marching up the stairs to Eggy’s top floor aerie, however, because I didn’t want to come off all smug when I got there, no matter how ecstatic I felt. When I did knock on the door to his rooms, I heard a muted cursing and then a rattling crash as if something metal had been tossed into a porcelain sink. This was alarming enough that I didn’t wait to be invited into the room and immediately reached for the handle to let myself in.


The scene I found when the door swung open was enough to cause me to snort with laughter despite how hard I was trying to hold it back. My Stylite was standing in front of the sink, cursing at the fixture as he ran water over his hand. He was sweaty and looked like he’d been anxiously running his hands through his damp hair, causing large clumps to stand on end. The air stunk of burned tomatoes. Right as he turned to look over at me with the most woebegone look you can imagine, the smoke detector over his head went off, breaking our eardrums with it’s complaining wail.


“Oh, Eggy, what have you done?” I tried to sound sympathetic but I think some of my amusement at the situation came through anyway.


Brian glared at me. He took his hand out from under the water and wrapped it in a towel, but not before I’d seen that at least two of his fingers had angry-looking red burn marks on them. I quickly dashed over to the window, cracking it open and flapping my arms to try and wave in some cool, fresh air, in an attempt to get the smoke detector to shut up.


When the din finally abated, my poor Egbert looked over at me with a guilty expression and said, “did I mention that I don’t really cook?”


“You did, but I didn’t know the reason was because you’re a fire hazard,” I replied. I walked over to the sink and noted that the pot he’d been using to try and heat the soup was crusted with a nasty looking layer of blacked tomato gunk on the bottom that the water hadn’t managed to soak off yet. “I’ve never seen somebody burn canned soup before.”


Brian gave me this annoyed look that almost covered up his embarrassment. “I thought I’d have more time before you got here, but when you texted and said you’d be here in fifteen minutes, I turned the heat up, and then . . . I was only gone for five fucking minutes while I changed clothes.”


I started to remove my jacket and set it along with my bag on Brian‘s one kitchen stool. “Okay . . . Rule of thumb for future cooking attempts: never turn the burners on ‘high’ except for when you’re just flat out boiling water. For everything else you should keep the dial below ‘medium high’. Also, never walk away and leave anything cooking on the stove.”


Brian huffed a huge breath of defeat and slumped sideways against the edge of the counter, but he didn’t say anything further. Meanwhile, I quickly got to work digging into his fridge. Luckily, there was still a loaf of bread and some cheese left over from our earlier dinner. I pulled his seldom used frying pan out from the cupboard and then made my way to the sink where I conspicuously washed both the pan and my hands under Brian’s careful supervision.


“Now, step back, and let the master take over,” I teased, making sure he could tell from my smile that I wasn’t being judgmental.


The next half hour passed by quite pleasantly. The two of us worked together to wrangle together a replacement dinner without any more crises. Brian did his little cleaning rituals without really interfering in my cooking much. I let him do his thing but at the same time I tried not to coddle him too much. Mostly it worked without my poor Eggy getting too anxious. Did I mention how proud I was of my man? He was making such progress! From what Daphne had said to me, it sounded like this ERT stuff would be a long hard slog, but my Egbert was barreling into it with more enthusiasm than I’d ever dared hope. At this rate we’d be doing the nasty right there on the kitchen table in no time . . . Yeah, right! Okay, memo to self: rein in those unrealistic expectations. For the moment, though, it didn’t matter, and I was just happy to be spending time with my Sexy Stylite.


As we nibbled on our gooey, cheesy sandwiches, Brian filled me in on his efforts to wrap up the project he’d been working on for that new software application. It looked like it was going back for a third workshopping attempt. Then I told him some of the highlights of my day at the Diner. He seemed to enjoy my descriptions of the patrons and all the gossip from the Gayborhood. We were both laughing by the time I popped the last bite of sandwich into my gob.


Which is when it occurred to me just how odd we must look; the two of us chatting and laughing as we related stories about our days over a casual dinner. The familiar way we were smiling at each other over the coffee table where we’d set up the meal. How comfortable this all felt . . . And it struck me that we’d somehow become a COUPLE.


Like, WOW! I mean, it’s not like I minded or anything, but I just hadn’t expected anything like this. I hadn't been looking for a relationship. And, despite the way I’d jokingly referred to Brian in my own head as my ‘boyfriend’, even I hadn’t thought I was seriously considering such an outcome. We hadn’t even kissed, let alone fucked, and I’d never before had a boyfriend that I hadn’t thoroughly vetted in the bedroom before I’d agreed to date him. But here we were and it looked like, somehow, we’d skipped right over that whole part and moved on to the quiet evenings home alone together stage.


To paraphrase the Talking Heads, ‘My God, how did I get here?’


Was this what I wanted? I mean, yeah, Brian was fucking gorgeous, and he did have that ‘I need to be saved’ vibe that I’d always been a sucker for, and I was uber attracted to him in about every way imaginable, but was I really ready for what getting involved with someone like Eggy would entail? Was I biting off way more than I could chew here? And was I serious about a relationship with someone I couldn’t even touch?


Before I could completely freak out about this scary revelation, however, the man I was freaking over spoke up and disrupted my panic. “So, with all this going on, how did you manage to find time to text me with that naughty suggestion?” Brian asked, looking at me from under his bushy eyebrows with a flirty glint in his entrancing hazel eyes.


And just like that, all my plans to blow a gasket simply evaporated. Because, my Eggy might not be your typical boyfriend, and maybe it would take us a while longer to get to a point where we could act on all those fantasies of mine, but in the meantime what we did have was delicious and fun and more than enough to keep me intrigued. So what the fuck was I worrying about? Calm yourself, Taylor. Can you say, ‘Drama Queen’?


“Oh, I made time for more than just texting you,” I confessed to my flirty companion. “After you sent me back that response, I was so hot and bothered that I had to take a break in the washroom and . . . shall we say, relieve the tension . . .” Brian broke out laughing with an exuberance that I didn't think he often displayed, something which was more than enough to encourage me. “I should probably thank you for that, too. If it hadn’t been for your text - and the fact that I was apparently a little too vocal in my appreciation of the resulting break I took - I’m pretty sure my tips would have been a lot lighter today. As it was, I totally cleaned up.” I fished in my pocket and came out with the ridiculously large wad of bills that I’d walked away with as my take of the tips for the day, getting another roar of hilarity out of my naughty accomplice. “It was worth the teasing I had to take; although my boss did get a little annoyed at me. Deb has this strict ‘No Masturbating On Break’ rule and all. But as soon as I told her about my sexy new love interest, she cut me some slack. Deb’s a die-hard romantic at heart. In fact, she sent me home with this and made me promise to share with you . . .”


I leaned back and reached over the back of the couch, stretching until I could reach my bag, and then excavated the bag of lemon bars out of its depths. The overwhelming scent of citrus erupted into the air the second I pulled open the bag, filling the room with a sweet tartness that made my mouth water. Brian seemed just as captivated by the aroma; I could see his nose twitching amid the confines of his bushy beard. I availed myself of one of the paper napkins stacked on the edge of the table and used that to extract one of the yummy treats from the bag, setting it on the edge of Brian’s almost pristinely clean plate before getting a second lemon bar for myself. Now came the tough part - trying to convince OCD Man to try a bite.


“Deb’s always complaining about how skinny I am and she basically ordered me to eat these,” I explained as I put two of the dessert treats on my own plate. “If she knew how undernourished you were, she’d probably be over here with a metric fuck ton of pasta until she was satisfied you were fattened up sufficiently. So, unless you want to suffer a slow death by ziti, I suggest you eat up now.”


I pointed towards the lemon bar waiting on his plate and smiled hopefully. I was trying not to push too much, while at the same time nudging at Brian’s boundaries the way Daphne had suggested. I wasn’t sure if it would work though. He was just sitting there, staring at the damned plate as if he thought the lemony treat was likely to jump up and attack him. I could see him biting at his bottom lip hard enough that I almost worried he’d break the skin. Meanwhile, the tension the situation was causing was evident by the way his right leg was jittering and bouncing in place. I wished there was some way I could help him through this, but knew it was a battle he had to wage alone against himself. All I could do was offer him ways to keep pushing at those self-imposed boundaries and be there to support him through the struggle.


“It smells good,” the poor conflicted man ventured hesitantly. “What is it?”


“A homemade lemon bar. Deb’s personal recipe, even. Ramone, the cook at the Diner where I work, makes them daily. They’re a big hit with the customers, so you should be honored that Deb let me abscond with these few,” I answered, trying to make it all sound even more appetizing. “You should try it, Eggy. I bet it’s almost as sweet as you are.”


He snorted at my teasing statement and shook his head, but his eyes never left his fucking plate the whole time. Finally, I watched as he reached out and picked up his fork, extending the utensil towards the yummy, sugary, treat. I held my breath, trying to contain my hope. The fork hovered indecisively over the lemon bar for a good sixty seconds.


“I . . . *phew* . . . It looks delicious . . .” Brian took a deep breath and then the fork descended to spear just the tiniest little triangle off the corner of the bar. He lifted the fork back up so that it was just a couple of centimeters from his face and inhaled again. “Probably has about a billion calories, though.”


“That teeny little bite you have there? No way. That tiny taste doesn’t even count,” I assured him. Hoping to provide an example of sorts, I picked up the first of my own bars and took a huge bite that devoured almost a third of the whole. “Mmmmm. You know what, I don’t care how fattening these things are. They’re worth it.”


I saw Brian licking his lips as he watched me eat my own dessert and I could tell that he wanted this so badly it was almost killing him. Finally, as I popped the last of my own treat in my mouth, smacking my lips dramatically as I finished swallowing and then ostentatiously licked a last crumb from the corner of my mouth, he seemed to come to a decision. With a noticeable straightening of his spine, he moved the fork the rest of the distance to his lips and opened wide. I wanted to cheer but restrained myself - just barely. Egbert quickly swallowed that itsy-bitsy piece of cake and then immediately set his fork down. He looked like he was about to panic.


Time for the patented Taylor Distraction Techniques.


“So, how many condoms did you go through this afternoon after you sent me that picture?” I asked, seizing on the first thing I thought of which might work to keep Brian from dwelling too much on the momentousness of what he’d just done. “Personally, I only had time for that one, way too quick, ‘break’, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as you’d expect seeing as Deb walked in on me at the end and ordered me back to work - sometimes I think that woman likes checking out the men’s room way too much, you know? - and I was pretty much hard the entire rest of the afternoon. I mean, how was I expected to concentrate on work with that? Knowing you were back here, doing what you were doing, over and over again . . . You’re totally distracting, you know that right?”


“I think you’re the one who’s distracting,” Brian surmised with an uncharacteristically shy smile. “I appreciate the effort, Justin.”


It didn’t escape my notice that he’d moved the plate containing the rest of his lemon bar further away from him as he spoke. Oh well, he’d done amazingly well just trying that one taste, so I wasn’t about to criticize. I was ridiculously proud of him for even that one attempt. We were definitely making progress.


“Any time, Big Guy. That’s what I’m here for . . . Well, that, and because I’m in love with your mysterious building and all it’s tantalizing secrets. Cuz, c’mon, where else am I gonna get my secret tunnel fix, huh?”


“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Brian complained with a new frown.


“You mean to tell me you haven’t been just dying to go explore that secret tunnel?” I prodded. “Seriously? It’s, like, the kind of adventure you’d read about in a book or something. If it were me, I’d be itching to get down there. And now that dinner’s over . . . Whaddaya say? Are you up for some adventuring?”


“Yeah . . . I don’t think so, Brat.” Brian sighed and looked at me with this horribly pained expression that made my heart hurt. “I don’t think I can do it, Justin. I just . . . I had enough trouble going down there BEFORE I knew that there was a fucking tunnel to nowhere in my damned basement. But now . . .” I could see the way his breathing had sped up and the renewed jittering of his bouncing knee was an obvious clue to his heightening anxieties. “I don’t think I can go down there again.”


“No problem, Big Guy. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m perfectly happy going exploring on my own.”


“But . . .” I could see that Brian was struggling with that idea almost as much as he’d been with the proposition of him going back to the basement himself. “I don’t like the idea of you being down there by yourself, Justin. What if something happened to you? We don’t know where the fuck that damn tunnel leads. Anything could happen to you down there . . .”


I tried not to laugh at his catastrophizing but, to my mind at least, his worries seemed silly. “I’ll be fine, Brian. I mean, you saw that tunnel. Nobody’s been down there for decades. What could possibly happen?”


“That’s the problem,” Brian insisted. “You don’t have any idea what could happen. Especially if no one's been down there to make sure it’s safe in as long as you claim. Hell, the fucking tunnel could collapse and then what would you do?”


“Why would the tunnel collapse the minute I go down there when it’s been fine for, like, a hundred years already?”


“I don’t know. But knowing my luck . . .”


I tried to stop myself but couldn’t - my eyes rolled back in exasperation - causing Brian to growl softly in the back of his throat.


“Okay. Okay. I get it. I disagree that there’s any likelihood that the fucking ceiling will collapse or that I’ll run into invaders coming through the tunnel, but I understand that you’re not comfortable with me going down there. So, how about . . .” I pulled out my phone and tapped at the screen for a few seconds until I got to the app I wanted. “How about you join me . . . remotely?” I pushed the last button necessary to make the connection I was aiming for and heard Brian’s phone - which was in his jeans pocket - start to ring.


Brian pulled the phone out and looked at the screen with distrust.


“Accept the damn call already, Eggy,” I prompted with a bratty grin.


Brian tapped at the button on his phone screen and all of a sudden I could see a close up version of his face on the screen of my own phone. “See . . . It’s the best of both worlds, Eggy. Now you can stay up here, safe and secure, and still watch while I go exploring. How’s that?”


Brian took a moment to examine the picture on his phone and then smiled at me. “I suppose that might work.”


“Hoorah!” I cheered, getting up from my comfy seat on his couch and enthusiastically trotting over towards the door. “Alright! Let’s go exploring!”


Brian shook his head, silently commenting on my over the top fervor for adventure, but he didn’t try to stop me. He simply pointed me towards the keys to the basement which lived on a hook by the door, and I grabbed them before exiting. I trotted down the stairs, holding my phone right in front of my face so he wouldn’t lose contact with me for even a second while I did my thing. I could see his face on my screen at the same time, an inscrutable look on his face, as if he was withholding judgment on the advisability of this proceeding.


“I’m almost down to the lobby now,” I announced when I reached the first floor. “Unlocking the pizza place door. You know, you really should find some new tenants for these retail spots. I mean, a pizza place in here would be primo. Especially when you burn my dinner. Not that I’m at all opposed to grilled cheese, mind you, but if I had to choose between grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza, I’m thinking pizza would win, hands down.” I knew I was babbling, but what the fuck, it was better than dead air, right? “Unlocking the basement door now. And here we go down the stairs.”


“I don’t need to know your every fucking move, Justin,” Brian complained. “I can see what you’re doing, you know.”


“Right. Sorry. Just trying to make sure you’re not worrying,” I teased and then went right back to my running narrative. “Descending the basement stairs now. Wow, it’s dark down here. Where’s that light switch again? Did you hide it on me to try and get me to stay out of your basement, Eggy?”


“It’s on the fucking wall where it always was, you nutcase.”


“Oh . . . right . . . there we go.” Brian’s face lit up brighter as soon as I found the lights and the reflection from the screen bounced off his countenance. “Okay, now we’re cooking.” I trotted across the expanse of the basement till I came up to the false wall at the western end. “Magic brick, do your trick.” I pushed the brick that acted as a door latch until the unmistakable double click of the internal mechanism had sounded and the fake wall-door swung open. “And we’re in!” I had to juggle my phone into my other hand so I could use my flashlight with my right hand. “So, what are we going to call this place? Eggy’s Lair? The Triangle Tryst Room? Oh, wait, I’ve got it: Peebles’ Peep Hole!”


“I thought you were supposed to be exploring the fucking tunnel, not trying out your future stand up routine, Sunshine.”


“I can do both, can’t I?” I laughed as I moved across the room towards the tunnel entrance. “Hang on a sec - I’ve got to put you down while I move this damn chest of drawers out of the way.”


I laid my phone down on a side table, meaning that, for a moment, all Brian would be able to see was the dimly lit, sagging plaster ceiling. Then I concentrated on shifting the heavy piece of furniture away from the exit door. For some reason the stupid dresser seemed heavier than it had when I’d pushed it over there in the first place. Finally, with an embarrassingly loud grunt, I managed to shift the thing a foot or two, enough so I’d be able to squeeze through the door.


“What was that? Are you okay?” Brian’s worried voice echoed around the room.


I rushed back over to grab my phone so that my charming worrywort boyfriend could see that I was fine. “It’s nothing. I just had a bit of trouble moving that big dresser. It’s all good.”


“Remind me again why, exactly, you have to do this?” Brian complained.


“Because I’m annoying and a brat and I can’t bear to let any mystery go unsolved?”


“Right. Stupid stray burglars . . .”


“Yep. We’re worse than stray cats - that’s already been established - but that’s why you love me,” I suggested boldly. “If it weren’t for me, though, you wouldn’t be having this amazing virtual adventure. So, let’s do this thing, huh?”


Brian whined a little but didn’t bother saying anything, probably because he knew that nothing would stop a determined sneak thief like me. I smiled once more into the camera of the phone and then quickly switched the camera angle so that Brian would be seeing what I was seeing in front of me rather than just my handsome mug. Then I grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled open the entrance to the tunnel.


If anything, the tunnel was darker than it had been the previous time I’d looked down its lengths. Since it was night already, there wasn’t any light trickling down from the sidewalk skylight so there was virtually no illumination other than what was coming from my flashlight. With all the dark shadows and shit, the tunnel looked more sinister than tempting today. Maybe I was succumbing a bit to Brian’s morbid worries? But I told myself not to be a silly sissy and stepped over the threshold, into the unknown.


“Shit. It’s fucking dark down there. Are you sure this can’t wait till it’s at least daylight?” Brian asked, sounding even more troubled.


“I’m fine, Brian. I’ve got my trusty flashlight. Besides a little darkness never hurt anyone, right?” I offered, trying to placate him.


Of course, just as I was saying that while smiling down at Brian’s anxious face on my phone screen instead of looking at where I was going, my foot caught on a jagged piece of plaster and brickwork that had fallen from the ceiling and I tripped. I dropped both the phone and the flashlight, putting my hands out to try and block my fall. I think I might have yelled out a ‘Shit!” or some similar curse at my idiotic clumsiness. And then it all went dark as I hit the ground with a hard lurch and my head knocked against the hard brick of the tunnel wall.


 

 

Chapter End Notes:

3/11/19 - Spoke Too Soon by Molina. Sorry to leave you on that cliff, guys. Gotta keep you wanting more, tho, right? Lol. *wink* TAG & Sally

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