Date: Tue, 23 May 2017 08:49:17 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Canvas Hell 26

Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell/)
for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights
reserved. Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is
against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if
you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to
Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

"You don't need them." He leaned in then and kissed me long and hard. There
was no sex there at all. Jim was kissing my soul. And I simply gave my soul
to him in that moment. I knew, as deeply as I knew how to breathe, how to
blink, that from that moment, his frown would wound me; his smile heal me;
his harsh word break me; his kind word save me... And his rejection kill me
without chance of recovery or rebirth. This thing, this creature, this
being named Patrick was now Jim's, utterly and irretrievably, to wound or
heal, break or save, to kill or love.

*****

Canvas Hell 26: Surprise!

By Bear Pup

T/T; self-discovery - Monday

*****

We fell asleep still kissing each other with our eyes. We had never let our
touch break as we undressed and crawled into the sleeping bags. I don't
know when Karl returned; he did so without waking either of us.

Monday dawned blustery and clear, still warm but you could tell that the
peak of summer had passed over the weekend. It seemed... quiet that
morning, as if all of us were processing some revelation from the day
before. Breakfast was the reliable parade of horrors with Chef back, but at
least he brought coffee! And cereal! Salvation!

Nate and Orson, um, Tex joined us after we'd already sat down. Jim said
good morning to both of them and Tex blushed and looked down. Nate spoke
up. "They made fun of him last night for the Tex thing."

A deep and dangerous growl came from my left, "Who?" Nate jumped quick
before Karl could decide to start dismembering people.

"No, no! Nothing like that. It just turns out that he didn't really like
being Tex that much anyway. His name is the same as his dad's and his
granddad's and, um," he shot a glance at whoever-he-was sitting beside him
who nodded, "and I don't think his dad liked him completely giving up the
name."

"Okay then," Jim piped, undeterred. "What shall we call you, buddy?"
Nameless just shook his head, never looking up. "I'm betting that your Dad
went by Junior as a kid, right?" The artist formerly known as Tex looked up
and frowned.

"He still does. He either goes by Bryant or Junior."

"The how about going with the same idea?"

Unpronounceable-Cipher shook his head, "What, be Junior-Junior? That's
worse than Orson!"

"Don't be silly! The word for somebody-the-third is Trey. And, frankly,
that's a pretty cool name now that I think about it. And it would make your
dad proud, wouldn't it?"

We watched the Trey-presumptive as he seemed to literally chew to word. He
beamed at Jim. "That's PERFECT! Thank you!"

"For that, Trey, you get to go get me another apple!" Trey laughed and ran
for the fruit and we chuckled. Jim really was a marvel when it came to
people. I might be besotted, but I still knew it was true. We finished up
and headed to the dock, Orson to some other class but Nate was with us,
hence his highly-inflamed description of Karl's racing prowess.

"Um, guys. I'm going with Nate."

Jim and I blinked. "Um, okay?"

Nate, not as stingy with words as Karl, took up the narrative. "We talked
last night. My paddle-buddy and swim-buddy was Jack. He had to leave with
his parents last night. I think someone... died. Karl and I talked and,
well," Nate was absolutely aglow with hero worship, "Karl said I could be
with him... if, um, it's okay with you guys?" The last bit was said with
such desperate hope and longing that saying no would feel like shooting his
new puppy.

We went up to Sea and explained the whole Jack thing and he checked his
clipboard. "You're a reasonable swimmer and Karl is in my lifesaving
class. Same with Jim," I wondered how he'd already gotten the 'Jim memo',
then realised adults had to talk about something... "and Patrick. I have no
trouble with that. In fact... hmm. Karl and Nathan, uh, Nate, you're with
me today." All of us had pop-eyes at that. We hadn't seen Sea do individual
coaching before today.

Jim and I spent a couple minutes talking about difference between two- and
three-man canoeing. Jim would have to sit at the rear, steering and
occasionally paddling, with me in front doing most of the locomotion. When
we looked up, though, we both came to a screeching brain-halt. Sea had
somehow inserted our friends in a contraption like the one Sea and the
Leaders used, only with two place to swallow the lower halves of the
bodies. It looked like a long, painfully-yellow banana with a
short-and-skinny protuberance (Nate) in front and a short-and-thick
protuberance (Karl) behind. There were also little 'wing' thingies on the
sides, the use of which perplexed us.

Today's plan was more-or-less a free day. We had to go upriver to a marker
manned by a Leader and back, but that should only take 40 minutes or
so. The rest of the morning was playing or fishing (lures, thank God. No
animal sacrifice needed today). Jim and I took the first ten minutes
finding the new rhythm that losing Karl required, but suddenly we clicked
perfectly.

Perhaps ten minutes after that, with the marker just barely in sight, Karl
and Nate boiled past. This time there actually was a literal wake. The
double-blade of the kayak paddle consumed the water. Karl was a machine,
but I was astonished to see how Nate was holding his own. His
seemingly-slim shoulders had a strange, twisting grace that seemed designed
for the new mode of propulsion; Karl was powering through but Nate was a
natural.

Jim and I actually forgot to paddle as they reached the marker and spun
like a duck to head the other way. The Leader called out, laughing, and
they spun again. Evidently, to 'count' you had to go *around* the
marker. We sat astonished as Karl's paddles came completely out of the
water and Nate's power alone was what was driving the miracle turn. Karl
then kicked in the power, but it was crystal clear that Nate was
driving. Our canoe actually rocked as they swept past, hollering greetings
and catcalls. Jim and I laughed, elated at the fun our friends were having.

We finished our own turn, feeling clumsy and awkward even though the day
before we would have been delighted, and headed back down, opting to fish
downstream today. Jim opted for a lure that looked for all the world like
cruelly-speared minnow. I went for some rubber-bandy-wriggly thing that
reminded me of a technicolour squid. I loathe calamari so that resemblance
didn't bother me at all.

I caught four fish that morning, none really worth mentioning, but all were
really fun. Jim kept getting strikes but the hook never set. He was fit to
be tied and I distinctly heard words his parents would NOT approve of
before he finally pulled in a really pretty (and rather large) bass and a
Leader was there to take a Polaroid. He convinced himself that it was the
same fish toying with him all morning. I smiled, not mentioning that he was
always so shocked and surprised at a strike that he never jumped quickly
enough to set the hook.

We were pleased when we got back to the dock, but Karl and Nate were
electrified. Their adventure with the kayak was the talk of the whole group
as other boys pumped them with questions. I was beside myself with... I
dunno, pride? Whenever he got asked a question, Karl would say something
like, "I just paddled. Nate is the one who made it so cool. You should ask
him!" Every single time he said something like that, Nate got happier until
I seriously considered talking to George about a sedative for our young
friend.

Either because of the contrast between highs and lows or the simple fact
that Chef had conferred with other boy torture experts, lunch was a
festival of revulsion. First up was the Hot Option, a seething (I swear to
God I saw the crap move) vat of what was labelled Tune Noodle
Casserole. Maybe they hadn't killed the tuna? The stench was overpowering,
even to the kids who liked fish. The Lukewarm Option (Cold was not on the
menu) was a new take on Pasta Salad. Gone was the oil slick with
unidentifiable bits floating in it. Instead, it appeared to be pasta,
veggies and, for reasons that can only be called criminal, something that
looked like cherries. All of it drowning in a vat of
mayonnaise. Okie-dokie! Fruit it was!

One kid tried to sit at our table with a plate of the Tuna Crap and the
uproar of all five of our voices made him flee. Yes, seriously, it was THAT
bad. Karl and Nate still drew a crowd over the kayak thing and Jim and I
both smiled in delight.

When we got to Leatherworking, we had a new surprise, and not a bad
one. The second-half project would be a bifold wallet. You'd think that
would be easy. Three pieced of leather, stacked and sewed together. But
Land showed us the result of that plan, a wallet that couldn't
bend. Instead, the three pieces each had to have slightly different
lengths. Luckily the 'kits' already had them sized and even marked for
holes. The big deal this time, what had been the afterthought of the coin
purse, was the design. You were required to have a design on both sides of
the 'outside' piece, but could also do other pieces if you liked.

The group immediately bifurcated into those who were artistic and those who
were crafty. The crafty ones dove straight into assembling their
wallets. Nate was in that sept. Karl, Jim and I stared at the leather like
it was an adversary. Jim had his tongue stuck partway out his mouth in
concentration, which made concentration for me utterly impossible. I had to
literally turn away to stop staring at the adorable look.

Land had set up a board with Polaroids of past projects to which all of the
'artistics' referred constantly. Karl was the first to go into motion and I
was surprised to see that he went for larger, heavier, bolder tools. His
magnificent, abstract dove was breath-taking. Looking at that smile, I
could only guess what he would do with a bolder pattern. Jim was next,
pulling out not a tool but a pencil, drawing long, flowing lines across
both the outer and inner pieces.

I hit a sudden inspiration. I grabbed a pencil and a flat scorer (basically
a flathead screwdriver) and moved away. I got a quizzical look from the two
of them and I just winked. What I had in mind was simple and at the same
time very, very deep. I planned to etch, inside and out, all of our names
in different scripts, intertwined. 'Patrick' would be tall, skinny text
like a pack of Pall Malls. Jim would be the flowing, beautiful text of the
old Art Deco prints. Karl would be the immovable and implacable bold of
American Bandstand.

Karl, Jim and I would be on the 'face'. Nate (Star Trek; for me that always
implied wisdom) and Trey (spiky Twilight Zone) would be on the other
outside panels, while Jamie (Art Deco) and Orson (Blazing Saddles, which
Mom didn't know I'd seen) and Nathan (cartoonish Monty Python) would be on
the first inside other face, with room for guys we might befriend later as
well. The second inside panel? Well, I wasn't sure, but I had an idea that
made me want to cry and laugh at once.

I tucked the result into the envelope Land had given us at the end of the
session and handed it in. Jim headed to Wilderness Survival and Nate to
Ropes & Knots (which was, to hear him tell it, remarkably cool). Karl and I
wandered and ended up in the shade of a tree just at the edge of Camp Sin's
clearing. It was a delightful day, truly. The breezes were zephyrs, blowing
in every direction, shaking one tree like a rattle and leaving both its
neighbours utterly undisturbed. Birds, the colony of swifts we'd first met
over the river, were dashing and diving in stunning displays of
aerobatics. It was simply and irrepressibly beautiful.

Karl, oddly, broke the silence. "Nate says I was an idiot."

"Nate? OUR Nate? He said something critical of YOU?"

"Yeah. We talked. Last night."

"Um... About?"

Karl was talking to a pebble in the dirt between his feet. "The, you know,
touching and stuff?"

"Uh, Karl? Touching and, um, stuff? You lost me, buddy."

He glanced at me then back to the pebble. "When you and Jim talked about
touching each other and... touching me."

"Oh, God, Karl! NO! I thought about it, sure, but I'd never do anyth--"

"No. That I'm an idiot for not." He looked as if he could stare at that
same pebble to the Final Trump. I was so lost in this conversation I
couldn't find my way back with a dozen of Karl's compass-map-triangle
things.

"What?"

He finally looked up at me.  "Nate, um, Nate said I should have said
yes. That I should have t-t-tried the touching." I took me a few minutes to
re-hinge my jaw. What, exactly, was I hearing? I shook my head like a dog
drying its ears. My well-practiced eloquence came to the rescue.

"Wuh?"

He sighed deeply and looked back down. "I told Nate I wondered about it but
was scared. When he asked, 'scared of what?', I didn't have an answer, so
he said I was an idiot to pass up the chance." With that, I finally
regained the powers of speech and reason.

"Okay, I'm still halfway wondering if Chef put some creepy drug in my
coffee. You're not scared of ANYTHING and you're scared of ME? You can snap
me like a twig, Karl! But I get it, kinda. You're not scared of me, but of
what it means if you, well, if you like it. And what it means if you
don't?" He nodded miserably.

"Well, Karl, I'll tell you one thing that Nate got wrong." That got his
attention. "There is no way you can 'pass up the chance' because it's not a
take-it-or-leave-it thing. The offer is open until I turn 90." He wrinkled
his brow and stared at me. "Karl, when we met, you were the most handsome,
most manly person I'd ever seen. The idea of touching you made me
breathless. That's still true. I can't imagine a world where it stops being
true. But it's your choice, Karl, not mine and not even Nate's.

"Oh, and you're not an idiot. I should never have pressured you, Karl and
I'll never do it again. That was the idiot part."

"You didn't pressure me! And, and, um, are you saying that, you know, I
might, or you might...?"

"Well, not right here!" I smiled and punched him in the shoulder. Karl
laughed and playfully punched my shoulder back. OW! Damn! "But if you want
to some time, yeah. Just, I dunno, let me know?"

"What about Jim?"

"What?"

"Jim? Won't he, you know, mind?"

"Why?"

"Well, you and Jim are, you know, sorta like a couple, right?"

KaBLOOEY! All neural functions ceased. After an unqualified and
unquantified period and from a long, long way away, I heard a voice that
might have been saying something like, "Patrick? Patrick? Oh, God, I think
I broke him." The world gradually came back into focus. I blinked slowly.

"What did you say?"

"You prick! Don't you EVER do that again. What the hell happened to you?"

"Jim and I are, a, a, a what you said?"

"That's what this is about? Jesus!" Karl sagged back and slowly started to
chuckle, then laugh.

When he got to hooting, I realised that I should have really been mad about
it, but just didn't have the strength. Every neuron was devoted to wrapping
around the idea of that c-word he'd used. Can two guys? Well, duh, of
course they can. Right? Right? And two people can be a cou, a cou, a
that-word. It doesn't mean they're you know, d-d-d... and with that, a new
word popped up, 'dating', and I nearly went catatonic again. Yeah, I loved
Jim but...? I mean, how? What if? But HOW? At that moment, at that very
fucking instant, Jim's gratingly-cheerful voice popped up behind us. "Hey
guys, what did I miss?"

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 26 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 17 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 18 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 12 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 11 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Shark Reef: 4 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Culberhouse Rules: 2 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (4 installments)
.../incest/in-gods-love/