March Writing Challenge: 50 Stories. 1 Month.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#6 – Fish

Sean had been a guest at Campbell Christmas for a few years now, and he appreciated having somewhere to go. After the falling out with Kathleen, holidays became uncomfortable, and he found it easier to avoid the drama by remaining in Vermont. Kathleen did her part, as she and Colin had been visiting Colin’s parents for the holiday the past couple of years, and inviting William and Mary to accompany them.

He had enough of a reputation as a workaholic that his parents didn’t pressure him too much to visit for Christmas, as long as he called frequently (which he did) and as long as he visited during other times of year (which he did without reservation).

If Chanukah and Christmas overlapped, he had a standing invitation to join the Bernsteins, and he did, but, this year, Chanukah had been before Christmas. He had visited his friend’s family, of course, but he had nowhere to be for the Christmas holiday.

And Christmas had been important to him growing up. As an atheist, he no longer had interest in the religious overtones, and he could commiserate with Josh about how the decorations crept up a bit earlier each year, so now that they came out right after Halloween. Still, he liked secular Christmas: the color scheme, the peppermint flavors, the special menu, giving presents to loved ones, the laughter of children.

Visiting the Campbells for the holiday meant a lot to him, because they had so many children running around. Ginny was a teenager now, only a few years younger than Ryan. He used his nephew as a guide when buying presents for James’s daughter, since they had some similar interests, and the telepath didn’t subscribe to the notion of gender-coded presents. He and James’s parents were in the same peer group, due to the early pregnancy, and so he always had someone to reminisce with, who had lived through the same experiences. He and the Campbells shared political beliefs, and he found it refreshing to spend Christmas with liberals and Democrats, rather than holding his tongue about Bush’s policies in order to promote family harmony. They cooked well, making a spread for at least thirty, and they didn’t chide him for his alcohol intake.

Given that he couldn’t go home for Christmas, he couldn’t think of anywhere else where he would rather celebrate.

Yet, a few days before the holiday, James called him.

“Ho ho ho!” The telepath answered with a smile; the younger man caught him while he was at the store. “I planned on bringing eggnog again, unless your brother has that covered.”

“It’s fine to bring it,” the recruiter assured him. “But I’ve got a question.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Do you have plans for Christmas Eve?’

“TCM and a glass of scotch. Why?”

“Would you like to come over? I know it isn’t your custom, but the whole family likes to see you.”

Sean smiled to himself. “I’d love to. Can I bring anything?”

“A bottle of white, if you want to. We’ll have the food covered and plenty of dessert, but if you want something special, you can bring that too.”

The telepath already had something in mind. “I will. What time should I get there?”

“Dinner starts at six.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Once he hung up, Sean changed direction, heading towards the produce section so he could pick up a box of clementines and perhaps some kiwis, with a noticeable spring in his step.

He hadn’t attended a Feast of the Seven Fishes in about a decade. James was right, it wasn’t his custom, since his family was Irish as far back as the Norman Invasion, as far as he knew, and nobody had married anyone with Italian heritage. But it had been important to Sam’s family, and she had invited him several times.

Sean loved seafood, and he always a great time with it. He knew every family made different dishes, and so he didn’t know if there would be shrimp cocktails, or if there would be calamari, or seafood linguini. But he felt confident that, no matter what the Campbells served, he would leave with a full stomach and a health glow.

He couldn’t wait.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#28 – Bubbles

“Daddy, let’s play outside!” Eleanor ran through the house in search of the parent who was home with her right now. Josh was in court, since it was a weekday, but, as it was summer recess at Hammel, Sean was home with her, rather than sending her to daycare.

However, she couldn’t find him in her search. He wasn’t in the kitchen making lunch. He wasn’t in the living room reading the newspaper or working on one of his crossword puzzles. The basement door was closed, which meant he wasn’t doing laundry. The bathroom door was open, which meant he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the playroom. He wasn’t in the den. He wasn’t in the dining room. But then she found the door to his study open slightly, which meant he was inside; he never left the door open if he wasn’t there.

She knocked politely and then pushed the door open wider. There he sat at his desk, with one of his big files open.

“Daddy!”

“Yes, Sweetheart?” He set aside his papers and turned to look at her.

“I want to play outside.”

He laughed lightly. “Of course you do; it’s gorgeous outside.” Then he stood up and walked around the desk, holding his hand out to her.

She took it eagerly.

“So what do you want to play?”

Eleanor thought about her tricycle, even though she mostly rode that with Papa. Papa had a bicycle too, and Daddy sometimes talked about how he had trouble bending to push her. That was okay, since she had plenty of other toys to play with.

She thought about the big pack of chalk in all the colors of the rainbow that she was only allowed to play with outside, since she wasn’t allowed to color on the walls or on the floor.

She thought about playing catch or tag, since she was only supposed to play those outside too, in case she broke something or got hurt by running into the furniture.

She thought about the butterfly net that Cousin Shiya had bought her.

Then she thought about the bubbles, and her eyes went wide.

“Bubbles!”

“Bubbles,” her Daddy repeated, before nodding. “We can blow bubbles. Let’s get your shoes on.”

He led her to the front hall and made her sit down, while he knelt to slip her shoes on, the blue and purple ones that had the flower on the toe; those were her favorite.

Finally, they were on tight, and he let her stand up. “Let’s go,” he said, and she ran ahead of him to the door.

Fortunately, his long stride made up for his lack of youthful exuberance, and he caught her easily after donning his flip flops. Vermont in the summer was hot and humid, and so they forwent jackets, although he made her put on a wide-brimmed hat to protect her eyes. He followed suit.

Once outside, she ran for the porch where they kept her outdoor toys and grabbed the big bottle of bubbles she’d gotten as a Purim present. She struggled with the cap, until her Daddy took it from her, twisted it open, and then handed it back. “Be careful,” he warned her.

She only giggled in response, too busy dunking the wand in the bottle and then pulling it out. She blew too hard, and so the bubbled popped before it could float free.

Not discouraged, she tried again, and, again, she didn’t have much luck.

Her Daddy watched her struggle for a few minutes with many unsuccessful attempts, and then, finally, he stepped in. “Let me try,” he offered, reaching out to take the bottle.

“We do it like this,” he explained, dunking the wand carefully before he pulled it out slowly. “See the layer of solution?” It glistened in the sunlight, making a wavy, liquid rainbow fall.

Eleanor nodded.

“Then we blow not too hard and not too soft.” Daddy demonstrated for her, and the bubble managed to float free of the wand, but it didn’t make it far before breaking apart.

The telepath frowned; he knew how to blow bubbles.

Trying again, this time it resulted in lots of tiny bubbles that popped almost immediately.

This was a cheap solution, probably too diluted.

“I’m sorry, Honey,” he told her, as he passed the bottle back to her. She didn’t seem to mind, which was what happened with toddlers.

Instead, he took the wand back, dunking gently as her Daddy had demonstrated, and then tried to blow. She still blew too hard, but no correction followed this time.

Eventually, she grew bored. “Let’s play chalk,” she suggested.

“That’s fine. Give me the bottle back and then we can get your chalk.”

Yet, somehow, when she handed the bottle over, her arm shook and she managed to spill the solution all over the front of her shirt and overalls.

And on her Daddy’s pants.

He took the bottle without complaint, tightening the lid carefully. “We’re going to change first,” he told her, and he grabbed her hand to lead her back inside. “We can play with the chalk after we get nice and clean.”

She didn’t complain, since she didn’t like being sticky.

She took after her Daddy that way.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#5 – Bread

Sean had never been to a Seder before, unsurprising since Josh was the only Jewish person with whom he had been close. He had met Jewish people before Josh, in class or elsewhere, but the only holidays he celebrated where Christian ones, particularly as his Irish Catholic family chose to enjoy the festivities.

He and Josh were together, which meant that they had to spend time with one another’s families. More than that, it meant that the telepath wanted to learn as much as he could about the younger boy’s culture, since it differed so much from Sean’s own; unlike when he’d dated Maggie, and their three greatest differences had been their genders, their powers, and the town where each of them had been born.

They had more members of the family than usual, since Matt had come down from Buffalo for the holiday and for Josh’s upcoming birthday, and so had their grandparents. Their maternal grandparents, as Sean had learned that Josh’s father had escaped Nazi Germany and had lost all of his family to the Holocaust, and, of course, that he didn’t talk about it often with his own children, and that he never discussed it with anyone outside of the family. They were all very friendly, and, with the exception of Matt, as extroverted and engaging as Josh, his parents, and his younger sister.

Matt was introverted, which Sean had recognized immediately upon meeting him, since the telepath was introverted himself. He wondered what it had been like, to grow up as an introvert in a family as extroverted as the Bernsteins, but he kept the question to himself. Perhaps someday he could ask that, once he’d integrated into his boyfriend’s family (as long as they didn’t know that he was Josh’s boyfriend), but not now; for now, he wanted to avoid even possibly alienating anyone by having less than perfect manners.

As it was, Charlie had gone out of her way to amend the menu for him, and he felt grateful for that. It wasn’t their fault, of course, but Easter wasn’t until the following Sunday, and he, like the rest of his family, kept meatless for Lent. Josh had mentioned this to his parents when visiting them one weekend after inviting the telepath. While Sean didn’t want to be a bother, he did appreciate the thoughtfulness; it made sense, since the theme of both rituals was honoring deprivation through sacrifice.

Additionally, he had to abstain from alcohol, much to Greg’s frustration; between the telepathy and his sweet tooth, sacrificing chocolate, baked goods, or dessert might actually kill him, and so he always looked beyond that most common choice each year. He had also given up marijuana, believing that the two practices went hand-in-hand and achieved similar goals, but he didn’t think that abstaining from pot on its own counted, since he was only an occasional, social user, rather than a habitual stoner. However, he’d spoken with his priest, who had assured him it would be fine to drink a glass of Passover wine during a Seder, since that was a religious ritual (albeit not his own) rather than drinking for pleasure; moreover, the Last Supper had been a Seder, and he should keep that in mind.

From what Josh explained to him, this meant he only had to abstain from the shank bone portion of the Seder plate and then focus on the vegetable dishes, and possibly gefilte fish, if his mother made that. That wasn’t as restrictive as it could be, for which he also felt grateful.

After introductions, they were ushered to the dining room table; the telepath found himself seated between Josh and Matt, which was comfortable. He couldn’t play footsie with his boyfriend under the table, or hold hand surreptitiously, but they did hold hands for the blessing, and that was more than he’d expected.

Afterwards, they all washed their hands, which Sean didn’t fight about, even if, mentally, it felt as though he had to wash off Josh’s touch. They could make up for that when they got back to the Village tonight.

Next, Josh’s father passed around a dish of parsley and a small bowl of salt water, to combine the hopefulness of spring with the tears of slavery. The telepath appreciated the symbolism.

Just as he appreciated the symbolism of breaking one of the pieces of matzah that had been set aside under what looked like a napkin but appeared fancier than that.

Then all eyes turned towards Talia, who sighed in frustration but finally asked, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”

And Bobby replied, “On all other nights, we eat leavened products and matzah...”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#7 – Race

Sean stared at his partner in disbelief. He was sure that he had heard the other man correctly, only because Josh possessed no speech impediment, and the telepath’s had passed his last hearing test with flying colors. Still, he couldn’t believe that the other man had just said the words that he had heard.

“I beg your pardon?”

Josh should have recognized all the signs of his surprise and displeasure: the measured response, the non-expression on his face, his carefully-regulated breathing. Instead, the attorney appeared too caught up in excitement to notice anything outside of whatever expectations he had worked up in his thoughts.

Sean loved the other man, but his disconnect from reality and his subsequent insensitivity were frustrating in the best of times. Right now...

“The Vermont Democratic Party chose to back my candidacy for President! They want me to challenge Hillary Clinton in the primary.”

“You’re a Councilman in a small town that most people have never heard of.” Josh had been appointed to a special seat in 2012, due, in part, to lack of political engagement among many of the residents of Pilot Ridge. He had won his subsequent elections in 2013 and 2014, and they had no reason to believe he would lose in 2015. Except for political scandal (which rarely occurred), retirement, or death, nobody ever left the Pilot Ridge Town Council. Despite annual elections, the positions worked out as lifetime appointments.

“And one of the most active members of the Party.”

Sean couldn’t argue with that. Josh had been active with the Party since moving from New York, where he had been active with the New York City Democrats.

But he didn’t want to quibble about ultimately irrelevant details. He wanted his partner to slow down and actually think through what he was saying. He wanted Josh to realize that he was already planning this and he hadn’t asked for the telepath’s agreement.

“They wanted to back Sanders, but the DNC barred his campaign since he’s technically an Independent.” An Independent who caucused with the Democrats and identified as a Socialist, thus to the left of DNC positions, but it was a technicality where the DNC couldn’t be challenged by the Senator, his campaign, or the Vermont Democratic Party.

Sean pursed his lips together, calming himself before he asked, “Do they think you’re interchangeable?”

Finally, Josh paused in his excitement, furrowing his brow at the telepath. “What? Because we’re both liberal Jews from New York before getting into Vermont politics? Of course not! I mean, I know I complain about anti-Semitism among the Left sometimes, but obviously they know we’re not the same.” He laughed nervously and continued, “Clinton is a hawk and a neoliberal. The DNC has practically ordained her without giving the people a choice, and what better place than Vermont to offer a challenge? Especially since Elizabeth Warren won’t run.”

Josh had signed a petition, Sean knew, to draft Elizabeth Warren into the race a while back, but the Senator had stated in no uncertain terms that she believed she could best serve liberal and progressive causes through her committee appointments in the Senate. Clinton had been a Senator from New York for one term, and she and her husband technically resided there, which meant that no credible challenges would come from Josh’s and Sean’s former home state, even though they should lead the charge. And, currently, California was a mess between Silicon Valley trying to secede and the bankruptcy from their previously-generous social net being coupled with a lack of property taxes.

Sean said nothing; he merely sighed heavily and rose to find a bottle of scotch.

“You...you don’t seem happy,” Josh remarked finally. It had only taken this long for him to realize that the telepath had reservations.

The psychiatrist pulled down a highball glass and dropped in some ice cubes, before filling it with scotch. He downed the glass in one long gulp. “You didn’t ask me.”

“What?”

“You didn’t ask me, Slim. Every part of our lives is going to be upended; we’re going to have to live under a microscope, both of us, and you didn’t even ask.” Sean refilled his glass, although he chose to nurse this one.

“I’m not even supposed to talk to the media without getting clearance from Hammel first. They don’t care that my partner is a Councilman, but that’s because you run on a pro-meta platform every year.”

Josh’s face fell. “You think I won’t run on a pro-meta national platform?”

The telepath inhaled sharply through his nose. “Everything that you’ve ever done will come to light. Everything that I’ve ever done will come to light.

His partner furrowed his brow. “What-what do you mean? What have you done that could possibly be a problem?”

Sean changed tactics, drained the rest of his scotch, and then set the glass down on the nearest surface. “In the worst case scenario, I have to quit my job for the next year and a half, so we can go on the campaign trail. In the best case scenario,” by which the telepath meant the scenario that Josh hoped would come to pass, “I have to retire permanently. I’ll be in my late sixties by the time you leave office under that scenario, and then I have to have an armed guard following me around for the rest of my life.”

Obama had restored lifetime protection to former presidents and first ladies. Sean abhorred guns, but, given that Josh had been the victim of a terrorist attack before developing any political ambitions, and given that they were both MSM, Josh was Jewish, Sean was considered a Godless heathen, and he was the type of psychic meta-human that frightened everyone around him, he was sure that there would be threats on their lives as soon as Josh made the announcement.

He couldn’t bring an armed guard to Hammel, and, he didn’t think that the school would want the notoriety of a former president’s spouse on their faculty roster. As it was, the school would receive far too much attention from the announcement and subsequent campaign.

“That’s not true!” Josh rushed to assure his partner. “Look at Hillary. Her career took off after Bill’s second term ended.”

“I’m a psychiatrist, not a politician,” Sean replied quietly. “I don’t want to run for office myself; I like my job.”

For all his complaints about the bureaucracy of Hammel over the years, he enjoyed his work. He wouldn’t have stuck with it for this long if he didn’t, particularly when he could earn twice as much in private practice, without chaperoning school dances or advising clubs to supplement his income. Young meta-humans were his ideal population.

He was fifty-eight and had to make peace with the fact that he could never work again.

The telepath refilled his glass and took a sip, sighing heavily as he leaned against the bar. “How badly do you want to get elected?”

“If the alternative is a Republican...”

Which, perhaps, it could be, or another neoliberal. Unlike his partner and many other Democrats his age, Sean had never voted for Bill Clinton, and his concerns had come to pass. Hillary had been more hawkish and equally “moderate” which meant “right of center” these days. There was also the fact that Congress continued to try to hold her under investigation, all for meaningless reasons, but it was constant background noise.

The telepath took another sip from his glass. “Then you’re going to have to get very good at compartmentalizing your campaign and our relationship very quickly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m not going to be allowed at debates or contested events, and the other campaigns will probably seek an injunction to force me to vote by absentee ballot so that I can’t enter a polling place.”

Josh frowned and shook his head, denying that. “That’s absurd; if anything, you’ll have to be more involved than you’ve been, since you’ll be my campaign manager. Besides, everyone else is expected to have their spouses with them-”

“I’m not your spouse.” That wasn’t what Sean had meant, but since his partner had focused on this rather than the far larger elephant in the room, the telepath chose to address it.

Those four words and the grim tone sent a chill through the attorney. “Of course you are.”

Sean finished off his third glass and set it down on the bar beside him; he needed to curb his drinking tonight if they were to continue this conversation. “Of course I am, but that isn’t what other people will see. At best they’ll see your gay lover.” Even though he wasn’t gay. “At worst, they’ll dig up the fact that we aren’t married because of me, because of my beliefs, and they’ll make that an issue. ‘The gays were willing to tear this country apart to get married, and the one who thinks he should be President can’t even convince his lover to take advantage of that ill-gotten gain. He can’t even represent the gays, let alone the rest of us.’ They’ll make you have to come out and defend our relationship rather than debating the issues.”

“We could always remedy that.”

Sean inhaled sharply through his nose, the tell-tale sign that his partner had just crossed a line. “I’m not going to marry you to make your campaign smoother, Slim. We’ve been over this.”

They had only discussed it dozens of times over the past four years. That if Sean ever softened to the idea of marriage as a symbol, it would come as an act of love but not as an act of expediency.

Josh raised his hands in surrender, a gesture of quick apology. “I know. I’m sorry; forget I said that.” Then he offered the telepath a shaky smile, an attempt to smooth everything over. “If I have to take out an ad in the paper every day declaring my love for you, I will, but I won’t let it get me sidetracked. I’m tenacious.”

Anxiety aside, Joshua Bernstein was one of the most tenacious people that Sean had ever met.

He also had a tendency to ignore reality in favor of whatever version of facts best suited his mindset at the time.

“You’re going to have to be, because I’m serious about that injunction.”

“Sexual orientation might not be a protected class, but nobody is going to let homophobia change the campaign rules. We just won in the Supreme Court and-”

“For Heaven’s sake, Josh, listen to me.”

The attorney turned bewildered eyes on the older man. “I’m listening! We’re talking about marriage privilege and homophobia.”

The telepath heaved another sigh, far louder and deeper than any before it tonight. “You’re talking about homophobia,” he corrected. I’m talking about this.

The projected thought gave Josh pause, finally breaking through to him. He crossed the distance between them, so that they were all but touching as they leaned against the bar. “I know there’s a lot of metaphobia and bias, but we can explain how it’s just another way of talking. There’s nothing threatening about that, especially if we explain about mental shields.”

“It isn’t another way of talking,” Sean told him flatly. Rather, his powers far surpassed simply projecting his thoughts and scanning the surface thoughts of other people. “Don’t you...?”

The telepath’s voice quivered, and, mortified, he took a deep breath, willing himself to calm. “It’s been thirty-seven years; don’t you know why so many people are nervous around me?”

“Anti-psychic bias.”

Sean shook his head slowly.

Then Josh heard it. Sit down sit down sit down sit down sit down sit down sit down sit down sit down...

It wasn’t like his partner’s typical telepathic presence, which felt so warm and comforting; it wasn’t like his typical mental voice, which sounded just like his speaking voice but more intimate. Instead, it was like a gnat buzzing in his ear, overwhelming him until...

Until he backed away and sat in the nearest chair.

It wasn’t a compulsion, not like with mind control or hypnosis where he acted, unable to stop himself. Rather, it was a decision he had made to stop something frustrating and overwhelming. A bargain made in all of five seconds, long before he could rationally consider the source, long before he could ask the telepath to stop.

Brow furrowed, he stared up at his partner in confusion.

“I can do more than that,” Sean told him grimly.

“You’ve never shown me that.”

“I’ve never shared a lot of what I can do. I can tell people how to vote; I can turn lifelong Republicans into liberal Democrats.” Ethics prevented him from using his powers for personal gain, even if he used his powers to help people, or to protect them from greater threats in ways he would never use for petty personal gain. This was evident in the fact that he was estranged from his sister over political, religious, and social beliefs, rather than making her have a change of heart.

“But we won’t even let people wear a button with a candidate’s name on it within 100 feet of a polling place. Do you really think they’d ever let me near voters, or near contested delegates? Near your opponents?”

“But you’d never take advantage of other people that way.”

“You know that and I know that. But I guarantee you that within an hour of announcing your candidacy, someone is going to dig up those papers I published.” Many of them were on JSTOR by now. “Then every rival campaign will accuse you of engaging in psychic warfare, and this will include the Establishment Democrats, not just the Republicans.”

Josh rose to his feet slowly, and the incessant buzzing in his mind didn’t return. Again, he closed the distance between them until he could reach for his partner’s hand. “So you think I shouldn’t run because of prejudice?”

Sean didn’t take the other man’s hand, and he didn’t offer his in return. “I think you don’t realize what you’re asking of me, and you should think long and hard about that while I’m gone tonight.”

The attorney frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a walk, and, if I sober up, I’m going for a drive.” He had a high alcohol tolerance, but between his emotional state and three glasses of scotch in rapid succession, he wouldn’t risk getting behind the wheel of a car; that would be too dangerous. “I won’t be back until after you’re in bed.”

“I can wait up for you.”

“I think we both need to clear our heads and think about what type of future we want.” With that, Sean circled around the bar and left the room, heading to the foyer to grab his keys and put on his shoes.

Josh didn’t follow behind him, instead watched the taller man’s retreating back. Mentally, he retraced his steps, trying to figure out how he they had reached this point tonight, how had set his partner off in the first place.

It was supposed to be good news.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#30 – Teamwork

“I think it’s so great that you’re willing to go out in a group costume like this, Mister Bernstein.” Shiya took out her compact and adjusted her dress in the mirror.

“I’ve been doing group costumes like this since college,” Josh retorted, at the same time that Sean replied, “Shiya, we’ve been over this: you’re family. Given names are fine.”

It had taken her a long time to adapt to calling him “Sean” even though he had introduced himself as such, and Ryan called him “Uncle Sean.” Ryan’s parents expected to be called “Mister and Missus Finnerty”, and her parents were the same way, as were most of the adults in her life growing up.

Most of the adults in her life growing up didn’t identify as hippies or, in Josh’s case, also come from liberal backgrounds themselves.

But Josh and she had only met after Eleanor’s birth, at her Naming Ceremony. They spent more time together since then, but since she was in graduate school, such gatherings were limited primarily to holidays and birthdays, with the occasional vacation.

That made today special.

“I told you they were cool when they were our age,” Ryan said, and he fiddled idly with the giant wooden crucifix around his neck.

Josh elbowed Sean gently and whispered. “I told you that you were cool when we were that age.”

Sean only smiled and unfastened the safety buckle on Eleanor’s car seat. “And what does Robin Hood think? Does she think we’re all cool?”

Their daughter was dressed head to toe in green, complete with the famous cap that had a long brown feather sticking out the back. Her hair was done up in an uncomplicated ponytail, mostly to keep her hair out of her eyes. She smiled a big toothy grin as she hopped down from her seat and stepped out of the car. “We’re all cool.”

Ryan grinned as well. “Our leader has spoken; we’re all cool.”

Sean took his staff in one hand, using it as a walking stick, while he took Eleanor’s hand tightly in his other. Josh, meanwhile, picked up their backpack filled with gear (since one couldn’t take a kindergartener anywhere without snacks, drinks, wipes, and a change of clothing) and slung it over his shoulder.

Shiya held her elbow aloft to Ryan, who took it like a gentleman. “Have no fear, Maid Marian. Your honor is safe with Friar Tuck her beside you.”

“I should hope so,” he replied, before her expression melted from royal calm to a more mischievous one. “At least for now. Of course, if Robin doesn’t mind if we have an open marriage...”

Eleanor was oblivious to what they were saying, since she wrote it off as grownup talk and therefore boring. Instead, her eyes were wide as she took in the other people in costumes and the giant entrance to the faire grounds which looked like a castle.

Josh handed over their four tickets (Eleanor was still young enough to get in free) and they stepped through the gates. Instantly, they were greeted by the sights, sounds, and aromas of the medieval fantasy.

“What should we do first?” Ryan asked, as he scoped out the area for a flower vendor. As soon as he found one, he wanted to buy Shiya a rose.

Eleanor looked around, and then she squealed in delight. “Face painting!”

Sean and Josh exchanged fond smiles.

“You heard Robin Hood,” the telepath said, as he began to walk with his daughter in the direction of the face painting booth. “It’s time for the Merry Men to get their faces painted.”

Knowing his daughter and his nephew, they would both have absurd finished designs. For himself, he thought he and Josh could get matching hearts.

He thought his partner might appreciate that. After all, it was the Renaissance Festival.

[Joelle McIntosh]

18. Risk

It wasn’t often the house was this quiet. But with Jeff away at Hammel, their mother grocery shopping, their father working, David at a friend’s house, and Nick studying for finals in his room, a blissful silence had fallen over the McIntosh house.

Of anyone to be home alone with, Nick was Joey’s favorite. Not only because he wasn’t as loud or brash as David or Jeff could be, but because he was the easiest to get along with, too. He was the one sibling that liked cuddling and didn’t mind engaging Joey in things that were… well… not sports. And maybe not as boy-ish as other activities her brothers liked.

She could also trust that he was going to stay on task and in his room instead of pestering her.

That afforded her some time to experiment.

As soon as she’d heard her mother close the front door she’d peeked down the hall to make sure Nick’s door was still closed. Closing her own door, she rummaged through her backpack for some things she’d dared to buy with her last allowance. From under her bed, she retrieved a ratty notebook, and went to sit at her desk.

Flipping to a dog-eared page, she peeked at the small mirror she had hung above her desk. Without kids along, it would probably take her mother… maaaybe 45 minutes to shop and come home? That was surely enough time to accomplish what she wanted.

Loading up some tutorials on her laptop, she made sure to keep the volume low. Setting her supplies beside the keyboard, she slowly began to apply some basic make up. Nothing fancy. A bit of lip gloss, some mascara, and the smallest touch of eye shadow. It wasn’t much, but boy did it make a difference.

After twisting a tiny braid into her lengthening bangs, she closed YouTube and fired up iTunes instead before turning her attention back to her notebook. Flicking her gaze over the list, she sighed softly.

Josephine Too long.

Josie? … Nah.

Jennifer No.

Jocelyn Jocelyn sounds like a cheerleader. No thanks.

Jolene? … Now I have that Jolene song stuck in my head ugh.

Jessica Also too cheerlead-y

Something other than a J name?

That was where she’d left off the last time she’d had a chance to look at her book. She had given this a lot of thought. It was important, after all. She’d asked for feedback on forums, but the problem was that everyone suggested moving away from her given name.

The thing was, Joey had a problem with that. Her parents had obviously put a lot of thought into her name when she was born, and she didn’t want to disrespect that. She just….couldn’t be what they had imagined her to be when she was born. It was getting harder and harder to be Joey. But she didn’t want to just trample on her parents’ wishes. It was going to be difficult enough to ask them to call her something different, let alone tell them about herself. No matter how she looked at it, it was going to be an uphill battle.

At least her middle name was easy. No one really cared about middle names anyway, but Emory was easily converted to Emily. But Joey…

She turned back to an old bookmark of a baby name site, looking back through the J page. She’d done this dozens of times, but nothing jumped out at her.

Scanning the endless list again, she lifted her head slightly at she came across one she hadn’t taken much notice of before. Joelle. There didn’t seem to be a lot of meanings behind it, but lots of people commented on it being unique and elegant. Unique was certainly fitting, if nothing else. And it was pretty. And could be shorted to Jo in a pinch, if someone really didn’t want to use it.

Curiously, she wrote it down in the book.

Joelle Emily McIntosh

She smiled and drew a tiny heart beside it before looking at the clock like a deer in the headlights. She didn’t have long before her mom would be home. Taking one last look in the mirror, she shoved her make up back in her backpack, the notebook back under her bed, and tore across the hall to the bathroom to scrub her face.

She might not have been ready to talk to her family about this, but after today she was one baby step closer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#29 – Recipe

Sean had been in a bad mood all day, far worse than Joshua could remember seeing him, at least within recent memory. Yes, the telepath had bad days here and there, and, yes, he wasn’t the most personable person, at least not outside of the sanctuary of their house, but his measured responses had become downright stony.

He didn’t even turn on his Simon and Garfunkel mix tape for the drive home, which was essentially unheard of. Josh didn’t know what to say or do, and thus he remained silent, looking out the window while they drove through the familiar streets towards the house.

When Sean pulled into the garage, he turned towards the younger man. “I have a headache,” he informed him, and then turned back around, staring through the windshield at the wall. “I need to be left alone for a while.”

That was more common than the rest of the telepath’s behavior, although it still threw Joshua for a loop. “What should I do?”

“Make supper.”

The baseline human felt anxiety grip him. Sean had taught him to cook, of course; they’d been working on that together. However, he had yet to learn every recipe in the telepath’s repertoire, and, more than that, he had yet to cook a meal alone that didn’t consist of sandwiches or eggs.

He wasn’t sure if he could manage without supervision.

“What-what should I make?”

“Surprise me.”

With that, the telepath rested his arms across the steering wheel, taking care to avoid the horn, before he pillowed his head atop them. Eyes closed, he looked miserable.

Joshua felt overcome with an urge to reach out and pat the older man on the back, to try to reassure him through touch the way that his parents would have, long ago. He didn’t, because he didn’t want to risk further upsetting his owner.

Instead, with a final glance, he opened the door and slid from the car, walking quietly across the concrete garage floor until he reached the house. He took care not to let the door slam behind him.

Making dinner completely unsupervised for the first time, and he had to do so without explicit direction and without further upsetting Sean who was so miserable already.

He could do this.

Actually, he didn’t think he could do this at all, but the thought of disappointing the telepath bolstered his sense of duty, if not his confidence.

What to make?

He entered the kitchen and yanked open the freezer, taking mental inventory of everything they had. Frozen chicken breasts, frozen beef, pork chops, and fish. The refrigerator had some vegetables in the crisper, and then the typical staples: potatoes, butter, milk, eggs...

What could he do with this?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to risk choosing wrong.

Then, it came to him: the recipe book!

Sean kept a recipe book that he had used to teach Josh to cook. All the baseline human had to do was dig it out, open it to a random page, and voila! As long as they had the right ingredients, he could make a meal.

And as long as he kept his eye on the oven (since Sean wasn’t here to remind him), then he wouldn’t set anything on fire.

He could follow this instruction and please his owner yet.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#2 – Sand

He and Josh were going to NYU together, and this was something that their parents couldn’t take from them. Each boy had been accepted to the prestigious college in the middle of the Village. Each boy had already paid his tuition and had been signed up for orientation, were waiting for their roommate and dormitory assignments. Sean had already declared his intention to go pre-med, since there were specific classes he needed to take, and a particular advisor he would get along with the rest of the pre-med students.

No matter what, they were going to get to spend the next four years together on the same campus.

That thought kept Sean going through the end of his time at Hammel, in between his final exams and the graduation ceremony.

That thought kept him going when he braced himself for his parents to reject his graduation present. He didn’t think they’d want him to go on a road trip with another boy, even one so many years younger than him.

He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d convinced his parents to agree to let him take the road trip.

He’d asked Robert if the elder telepath played a role in that, but his trainer had said nothing on the subject. Instead, he reminded him to eat healthy on the trip and not to take anything Cobalt said personally. His mentor also wrote him a check as a graduation present, tucked into a card and presented to him with a pack of condoms.

“Don’t tell anyone I gave those to you,” Robert said. As though Sean needed the instruction.

Instead, he packed those into the false bottom compartment of his suitcase, far away from prying eyes. He was a high school graduate now, and his parents wouldn’t check through every inch of his luggage.

They remained there when he packed for his road trip, along with his clothing, including a shirt that he knew that Josh liked and a pair of swim trunks, an umbrella and sunglasses, the assorted mix tapes he made for the trip, a neck pillow for when he slept in the back of the van, his dopp kit and toiletries, the graduation gift he’d bought for his boyfriend, a few books, his Nikon camera and several rolls of film, and his rosary. His parents gave him additional money for gas and food, as well as slipping him three rolls of dimes so he could call them frequently.

There were no oceans in Colorado, and thus no beaches of merit out there, but the telepath had to drive down to New Jersey to pick up Cobalt. The younger boy looked miserable when he drove his van up to the front of the orphanage. Sean thought, if he were being picked up at an orphanage by someone with whom he shared so little in common – beyond being meta-human, being attracted to other boys and having someone special out in California, and being Catholic – he probably wouldn’t be particularly happy either.

Instead, they drove in silence for a couple of hours, before the telepath made an executive decision. He veered off at the nearest exit, heading for the Jersey shore.

“We’re supposed to go west,” Cobalt hissed at him.

“We will. This is probably the last time we can get a decent slice of pizza, and so I want to take advantage of that.”

The shadow manipulator glowered at him but said nothing further.

They continued to drive in silence, until they reached the shore. Sean pulled into the parking lot and grabbed his wallet. “Come on.”

They went to a pizza stand along the boardwalk, where they each got slices, and Cobalt took a soda while Sean just took water. Then he stopped off at the dessert stand where he bought a candy apple for Cobalt, a funnel cake for himself, and a pound of fudge for the road.

They settled at a table under an umbrella on the beach, and they said nothing while they ate.

Eventually, Sean broke the silence. “Sometimes I dream about Josh and I getting married.”

Cobalt stared off at the water while he picked at his pizza. “That’s never gonna happen.”

“Probably not.” The telepath turned back to his funnel cake, tearing off a piece and getting powdered sugar all over his fingers in the process. “At least we’ll see each other by the end of the week.”

“Yeah.”

Sean chose to abandon his attempts at conversation, at least for now.

He would get to see Josh at the end of the week, and then they would go to college together. Nobody could take that away from him, and he could put up with anything if it meant he could spend time with his boyfriend again.

Even the uncomfortable silence and the less than pleasant company.

[Jeff McIntosh]

#43 Opposite 

The first time Nick had announced he had a girlfriend he had been eight. Jeff, all of age six, had wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought, but their mother had been delighted. She had always cooed over how well her eldest child played with the girls, commenting endlessly about what a lady's man he was.



Nick's girlfriend had broken up with him a week later over a playground dispute over what game they ought to play, but the next month he'd had yet another girlfriend. In middle school he was already planning what girl to ask to the school Valentine's Dance on the first day.



Jeff had no girlfriends, or even friends who were girls. He didn't like it when the girls in his class tried to play with him or showed interest in anything he was doing.



When the girl next door found out his dad coached his soccer team she excitedly asked him if he would play with her, because she loved soccer, too.



He mumbled out a rejection, and then whenever he saw her in the distance he turned and fled in the opposite direction.



His mother thought that this was cute, and that they would eventually start to date. Wasn't this the way so many romance stories began?



Nick, to his credit, disagreed with their mother here. "I hope she won't date him after the way he's treated her!" He exclaimed loudly each time she gushed about how adorable Jeff's "crush" was.



Jeff didn't know how to explain to his mother that he didn't have a crush; whenever he tried she waved a hand dismissively and insisted that his denial was adorable.



But occasionally his father patted him on the back. "There's plenty of time to worry about girls later," He would say.



Jeff wasn't sure if he would ever worry about girls in the way Nick did, but he was glad that he didn't have to, yet.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#38 – Gadget

Once upon a time, Sean had lived with the inventor and had been treated as a son. The old man had loved him, he knew, as though he had been flesh and blood rather than a creation. In return, the inventor had been Sean’s entire world: he had looked up to him, had loved him, and had been willing to do anything that his father had asked of him.

Such devotion wasn’t uncommon for mechanical men, he knew, although so many had been built with that level of slavish devotion programmed into them. Dedicated to their tasks, they served whatever purposes they had been assigned, until they fell apart from age or wear.

Robert Hopkins had not programmed him to worship his creator as an unquestionable force. Robert Hopkins had built Sean with the capacity to love and to think and to grow emotionally, albeit not physically. The clockwork man was helpful, of course, as so many mechanical men were; he liked to help and he liked to cooperate, and, from long conversations with his father, and with the other mechanical men and women who came through his father’s shop, he learned that this was an underpinning aspect of all their personalities.

The difference was that some of them were given the ability to choose who they would help and with whom they would cooperate. Some of them had free will, like the humans around them.

Or that, occasionally, a design flaw granted that same capability to a model that never should have had the ability in the first place.

Joshua’s origins were the antithesis of Sean’s: he had been built for a workhouse, bereft of any family or other warm connections. Yet, he had a malfunction that gave him the same degree of free will that Sean had been designed to possess.

Now that Robert Hopkins was dead, now that Sean could no longer return home due to his creator’s surviving friends and distant relatives who wished to liquidate the shop and sell off anything they could (including his parts), Joshua was the person whom the clockwork man admired most.

Joshua had educated himself. Joshua was the only mechanical man who was capable of practicing law beside humans, who was addressed as Counselor with a comparable level of respect as his organic counterparts. Even if he met with some resistance and some derision due to his windup key that so visibly set him apart as a mechanical man, he had achieved more than any other member of his species.

Sean respected him for that.

The windup man had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go.

Sean felt intense gratitude for the roof, for the ready access to new parts and lubrication, for the companionship.

Joshua had become his friend, and, with the more time they spent together, had become more than a friend and roommate, had become a lover and beloved both.

With the loss of his father, Joshua Bernstein had become Sean’s entire world.

He loved him for that, and he was willing to do whatever the windup man asked of him.

Not because he was programmed to do so, but because he chose that.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#34 – Manners

Sean considered every facet of Josh’s job, apart from the actual practice of law, to be a complete and utter waste of time.

In large part, this was because he didn’t trust people and because they treated him poorly; rather than one leading to the other, instead they shared a common cause. Since he didn’t trust other people as far as he could throw them (and, despite the fact that he had incredible physical strength and stamina for someone without physical meta-human powers, this didn’t amount to much in the real world), he had difficulty playing the part of the supportive spouse to the high-powered attorney.

Rather, he had difficulty playing the part of the supportive spouse when using the metrics commonly found among that particular demographic.

He was a supportive spouse. He was a more devoted spouse than the people who feared him and judged him could ever imagine.

Sean woke up every time that Josh had a nightmare or a flashback, since the telepath was a naturally light sleeper. He always soothed his lover back to sleep after those nightmares, always assured him of his love and protection.

Sean drove Josh to and from work so that the other man needn’t struggle with public transportation.

Sean helped his lover transfer from the bed, or the car, or the bathtub to his wheelchair and back again, whenever Josh needed the assistance. Sean pushed Josh’s wheelchair whenever they were out of the house to spare the younger man the exertion, and so that he needn’t dirty his hands by touching the wheels, since the telepath could use the handles. When Josh felt too tired or too ill, Sean carried him to bed and tucked him in.

Sean Neville rubbed the other man’s back, since the wheelchair had a tendency to make Josh’s body sore, or, if he sat too much in one position (and he had so few to choose from), numb. Sean Neville exercised his lover’s legs, moving them through proscribed exercises so that the muscles didn’t atrophy.

Sean Neville paid their bills and did home repairs. Sean Neville cleaned their house and did laundry. Sean Neville ran outside errands and did grocery shopping, even though Josh and he split the cooking. Long ago, the attorney had learned to cook for Sean, because it felt right to do so, and, despite both the injury and his career, he liked to do that for the telepath. It was one area where he wasn’t inhibited. Sean Neville maintained their urban garden.

The same Sean Neville who could only find freelance work because his name, powers, and mannerisms frightened off people who had no cause to judge him.

The same Sean Neville that Josh’s coworkers and their spouses shunned at fundraisers and firm parties.

Yet, the same devotion to his lover that caused him to mistrust most other people, and which led to his overprotectiveness had also led to tonight. Tonight, when the telepath had donned a suit and suit and accompanied Josh to this social gathering that he was sure would be a waste of time.

After all, nobody liked Sean, and Josh could only sink or swim based on his work in this environment.

Still, the telepath wanted his lover to succeed and he was willing to do whatever it took to help him. Even if that included a fake smile and idle chitchat while Josh went through his social obligations.

Sean was supportive that way.

[Nicholas Ward]

#15. Danger

When the weather had forecasted storms for the night, Nick had been excited. He loved storms. Watching the lightning and listening to the thunder roll… it was exhilarating. Some nights he’d stay up and try his hardest to take pictures of lightning as it struck, even if it meant he was a near-zombie for classes the next morning. Looking through his camera later was always worth it.

When the weather forecasted storms for the night, Taylor dreaded it. Especially since he had come to Hammel. Being woken from a dead sleep by a loud crack of thunder was bad enough, but since he had manifested his power often triggered a sudden, painful shift.

At least it made hiding under the bed easier. Coyotes, especially adolescent ones, were smaller than teenage boys.

Nick had been carrying on about the storm all afternoon, going so far as to point out the darkening clouds during dinner. Taylor had just avoided looking outside, finishing his food in record time before going back to the dorms. If he could just fall asleep before it started, he’d probably be okay. He’d put in earplugs and turn on his radio and hope that his power wouldn’t trigger.

Despite his best efforts, at almost one a.m. a massive clap of thunder startled him awake. Panting, he felt the now-familiar jerk that was the first sign of an impending shift. Biting down to keep from yelling, he endured the pain until his body stopped twisting.

Eyes wide, his ears flicked at the rumbles outside his window. His entire body shivered as part fear, part instinct told him there was danger outside, and he had to hide.

He was preparing to dive under his own bed when another clap made him jump and yip in fright. Ears flattened, he bolted from his room and blindly ran into Nick’s. He had no idea why his door was open, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Trying to shove his way under his brother’s bed was like trying to swim through a sea of clothes and magazines. After a moment of thudding around and getting tangled in a shirt, he whimpered and closed his eyes, tail tucked up tight behind him.

A stirring above him made him tremble more, but the voice made him stop for a moment. “TayTay? ‘s that you?” A moment later Nick was hanging off the edge of the bed. “Dude, ‘s okay. C’mere.” Taylor flattened his ears further, backing away from the offered hand. “Tay you’re not staying under there. C’mere.” He patted the bed in an invitation.

After a moment, Taylor carefully untangled himself from the shirt and crept out. Nervously, he jumped up. What he didn’t expect was his twin to pull him under the blankets and wrap his arms around him. They hadn’t slept like this since they were tiny. But somehow… this felt safer than hiding under a bed.

The next clap of thunder was a little quieter as the storm started to roll away. While Taylor didn’t jump, he did shiver. But Nick just pulled the young coyote closer and petted his side. “’s okay, Bro. I gotcha.” The words may have been half mumbled as Nick slowly fell back into his usual comatose state. But they were enough to finally get Taylor to relax and close his eyes.

[Rory Lennox]

#37 Mystical

The world has been restored with pastels, mystical swirls of color smearing across the sky. The setting sun burns fiercely over the horizon, an incandescent red, lighting up the world below. The sky seems to glow, transitioning from a deep cerulean to the brightest pink, with streaks of yellow paving their way like golden roads, and she becomes a ribbon across the horizon.

No. She is not the ribbon. The wings of a dragon fan out beneath her; he is the ribbon, a brilliant stream of amber, soaring through the sky. Cleo is simply along for the ride, her pale hair whipping behind her as they fly, faster and faster. The dragon roars, the flames of an artist bursting forth.

She sees several more coming into view on all sides, above her, below her, to her right, and to her left. Deep indigo, crimson, and violet, they curl through the sky like an iridescent rainbow.

The world below her is like a painting, the deep blue of the ocean bleeding into the stony mountains like watercolors. It’s beauty is extraordinary and baffling, a fantasy no artist could transfer to canvas. The beasts dive toward the mountains, a collective unit, setting the world ablaze with their fire.

She lets out a yell, a courageous and on-top-of-the-world howl, as the dragon rears up again, twisting through the clouds. Higher and higher it flies, and Cleo grips it’s orange scales, wearing a wicked grin. She feels like a queen, climbing the sky; no one can drag her from her throne.

And then she is not.

She is falling, the world around her whipping by, as though she is trapped in a kaleidoscope of colors. She sees the dragons above her, winding across the sky, taunting her with their flight as she falls.

Cleo wakes up, jolting from her sleep. She glances around the room - her room - the dim light peeking through her shades. It’s almost dawn, but not quite yet. Her sheets are soaked with sweat, despite the cool breeze drifting through her open window.

Her heartbeat is finally slowing, and her eyes land on the painting, propped up on her desk. She has been working on it all week, the colors blending together to form a dazzling sunset over the ocean. It’s pretty…that’s what everyone’s been telling her. It is…but it also feels strangely vacant. Unfinished.

And now Cleo knows what is missing.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#41 – Chariot

The Vermont was the finest ship in the Fleet: refit, sleek, with recreation facilities that were the envy of the other ships in the line, and with the some of the nicest quarters that the Hammel Institute of Research and Development had to offer to its crewmembers.

No other ship could serve as the flagship, and, in turn, no other ship could satisfy Hammel’s Golden Boy, Captain Sean Neville. The most highly-decorated officer in the history of the Institute.

He was a somewhat unassuming captain, despite his reputation and his rank. Tall and broad-shouldered, he certainly looked the part of a spaceship Captain, but he lacked some of the personality traits common among his fellow officers.

He prided himself on how he had never fired his sidearm. He enjoyed the diplomatic and research missions that sometimes caused other captains’ eyes to glaze over from incomprehension or boredom. He had a sweet tooth, and he only worked out to the extent necessary to keep himself in shape so that he wasn’t grounded after a mission.

He served with a crew that consisted primarily of women, and what other men in his crew were primarily attracted to other men. Yet, he was never tempted away from his spouse, despite not being attracted to women as well as men.

He remained utterly devoted to his spouse. Despite the fact that they had been together for decades, he still looked at, and talked about, Josh as though they were fresh-faced cadets, still engaged in the earliest stages of courtship.

They were quite fortunate, in that Josh could serve aboard his ship for mapping missions, since he was a highly-respected cartographer. Few others shared their position. Ben’s lover, for instance, was a rogue captain who would never serve on a Hammel ship, but Ben was dedicated to his career and wouldn’t join his lover aboard the Pilot Ridge. Chase’s husband was in Josh’s field, but as a civilian, and so they were separated so often.

But Sean had Captain’s privilege. He had wide latitude when choosing his auxiliary personnel, and there were no rules against fraternization between married personnel. That was important, because, as dedicated to Hammel and traveling the stars as Sean was, if forced to choose between his spouse and his career, he would choose Josh without even a split-second’s hesitation.

He, his crew, and his ship were docked around Earth, restocking their supplies before beginning a diplomatic mission – a simple one, this time, as they were tasked with ferrying assorted diplomats to a space station for important negotiations. The good Captain Neville did what he always did when he arrived back on Earth, and when he knew his husband wasn’t off on a mission himself.

He stopped off at Ari’s to buy a gourmet dessert, and then he took the closest available flitter back to the house that they shared.

“Josh?” He called, as he stepped over the threshold. In one hand, he held the pastry box from Ari’s; over the opposite shoulder, he had his pack slung over his shoulder.
When he heard no reply, he set the bag down in the foyer and carried the box into the kitchen, before searching for his spouse.

Unsurprisingly, Josh was in the first place he looked, curled up on the sofa with his nose buried in a book: an antique, from his collection, rather than the digital ones the rest of society used. The Captain took a moment to study the other man, so engrossed and at peace. It seemed a shame to disturb him.

On the other hand...

Sean cleared his throat.

That caught Josh’s attention; he lifted his head, and his eyes widened, before his expression melted into a wide grin. “You’re home!” He cried, and he leapt up from the sofa, setting the book down with more care than he would something that hadn’t cost a considerable amount of credits (Sean didn’t know the price of that particular volume, but he was sure it was expensive).

The cartographer ran across the room to envelope Sean in a tight embrace. “Did you get in early?”

The captain returned the embrace, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Josh’s lips. “No. You just lost track of time.” He could almost feel the other man’s embarrassment at that, and so he rushed to assure him, “It’s fine. I only just got in.”

That appeared to appease his husband. “How was the trip?”

“It was fine,” Sean assured him, before kissing him again. “Everyone seems happy for the shore leave.”

“You too?”

“When am I ever unhappy to see you?” The captain asked. Josh provided no answer, since he couldn’t think of a single time.

Sean smiled at being proven right. “I made reservations at that seafood place you like, and I’m going to change so I look presentable. Do you want to join me?”

It was Josh’s turn to retort, “When have I ever turned down that offer?”

“Never,” the captain replied. He slipped his arms from around the other man’s body, but he offered his hand as consolation. “Let’s get changed and get to supper. I bought us a cake, and I have something special planned for dessert.”

“More special than the cake?” Josh asked.

Sean smiled again. “Far more special.” He squeezed his husband’s hand. “If we have time before our reservation, maybe I’ll let you have an early taste.”

[Cleo Warren]

#19 Sleep

She was dozing, in the midst of a peaceful and dreamless sleep. Her favorite kind.

And then a hand on her shoulder gently jostled her awake. Cleo opened her eyes, blinking at the figure, unrecognizable in the darkness of her room. Slowly her eyes adjusted, the light from the street lamps outside her window helping to give the shadow in front of her a face.

Cass.

She squinted at her brother, not sure if she should be angry or concerned about being woken up in the middle of the night. “What are you doing?” She hissed, her voice hoarse from sleep as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

A car’s headlights illuminated his face for a moment as it drove by, his wide, blue eyes glassy with…apprehension? The bed shifted as he sat down, and Cleo scooted to the side to make room for him.

“I…I’m just going to miss you…” He said.

Oh…

She was leaving tomorrow. The two, both barely thirteen, had never been apart before, and now Cleo was going to be five and a half hours away. Pilot Ridge, Vermont might as well be on the other side of the country.

“I’m not going away forever.” She tried to lighten the mood, even though a lump was starting to form in the back of her throat. The pair hadn’t really talked about actually leaving, saying goodbye. She didn’t know about Cass, but Cleo was definitely avoiding the conversation.

But it couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Yeah…I know.” He knew she’d be coming back on breaks. It still didn’t make it any easier. “It’s not fair though, you get to have the cool power, while I’m stuck being boring.” His grin was wry, she could see it even in the darkness. He was joking.

Still, she scoffed at that. Cass was a lot of things, but he was certainly not boring. “Yeah, well you hogged all the good, normal genes. You get to be the popular and athletic one, and I get to see the future.”

It was ironic though, that he had been the twin named Cass, yet she possessed the ability to see the future.

“I’ll miss you too though.” She admitted, realizing she hadn’t told him yet that she would. Whenever she was asked, Cleo always told people that she would miss Manhattan, and her friends. But she was really going to miss her family the most. Cass was like her other half.

He bumped her shoulder, and she responded by shoving him off her bed. “Now get out of my room, or else I’m waking you up by throwing my suitcase on you.” It was going to be an early morning for everyone tomorrow, and if Cleo didn’t get any sleep, it was also going to be an ugly one.

Cass laughed, but he got up off the floor because he knew she was serious. “Love ya, sis.” He said, walking toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah…” She rolled over, throwing the covers over her head. She waited until she heard her door close. “Love you too, bro.”