Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2004 20:03:10 EST
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: DAD'S JUST DESSERTS (Installment 18)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those preceding and following this installment.

All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Casey still genuinely believed that wherever Ryan was, he would always be
in Casey's heart; and hoped that wherever life took him, he in turn would
always be in Ryan's heart.

Yet the coldness of reality was beginning to sink in to Casey's
consciousness.  Casey was gradually becoming more and more aware that it
did not appear that Ryan would be keeping his word about joining Casey.
James Earl Carter-Brookhaven International Airport was now buried inside
his soul as a hazy chaotic jumbled memory.  Casey stared glumly at his
bedroom wall calendar, and he reluctantly took in the fact that it was now
much later than the two weeks that Ryan was due to arrive, that six months
had indeed passed.

Casey felt confused, and, at the same time, felt ashamed.  He wondered if
Ryan would ever understand what had recently been going on between him and
his father, whom he now called "Ron".  There were circumstances of course,
well, there always are, it seems.  Yet these really did not provide an
excuse, a basis for pardon, at least not in Casey's mind.

Casey had fully intended to have a very confrontational discussion with his
father.  He was prepared to confront his dad with a rather tawdry tale of
family sex beginning with Jake, Casey's grandfather, with Casey's then
young father and continuing on to Casey's father and Casey himself.  Yet
instead of being greeted by his father's welcoming arms upon his arrival
home, he had instead been greeted by the blaring discord of police sirens
and the suspicious glares of somber members of the local police force.

Casey's dad was fine, Casey soon would learn.  But his beautiful mother,
whom his dad relished in lovingly calling his "sweet Gracie" had within a
twenty-four hour span mysteriously vanished without a trace.  Casey, in the
days and months to come, found himself comforting his father as best he
could.  He did, about four months later, confide in his dad about his
discovering that he was in love with and would always love his favorite
cousin from his mother's side of the family and his closest playmate in his
early childhood, his beautiful, treasured Ryan.  Yet, telling his father
that he and his cousin were lovers had become anti-climactic, at least in
Casey's mind, as his father was by then very much aware of Casey being gay.

Casey sat down on his bed and looked down at the floor.  He knew,
rationally understood, that he had done just what any other son would have
done, any other loving son that is.  Yet, in comforting his father, who
appeared to be grieving, things had gotten a bit out of hand.

Casey was worried about his father's health.  Days were floating by, and
his father was very much floating off with them.  Ron was not sleeping well
at all, having recurrent nightmares; and his appetite simply was not there.
One day Casey thought that what would pull his father out of this funk he
was in would be a sleepover, sort of like a boys sleepover or "camping out
in the yard" thing like Casey used to do with a few of his boyhood chums.
It seemed like a brilliant notion at the time, a stroke of pure genius.
Still, in hindsight, for Casey this "boys' night" was pure folly and one of
the stupidest things he could have done, in view of the "family history".

Originally a male cousin of his dad's, Rocky, was supposed to come over;
and join them for a night of telling ghost stories and toasting, well, more
like roasting, marshmallows in the oven.  Yet Rocky was "under the weather"
and could not make it, blaming it all on the flu.  There was not much on
T.V. that night, so Ron settled for watching a televised version of the
musical "CATS".  Casey was downstairs in the kitchen on and off, tending to
the marhmallows and heating up some corn dogs.  Casey had brought his
sleeping bag into the room, but his father insisted that the floor was hard
like granite and that there was plenty of room in his parents' queen-sized
bed.  Casey was in the sleeping bag for just a few minutes when he realized
his father was right and the lumps in the carpet were poking into the small
of his back.  He was trying to be respectful of his dad and his dad's
privacy, but, of course, he now saw that his dad was right and so stopped
being a martyr to the cause.

Well, Casey, on his last trip downstairs, had taken a bit longer than
intended.  After all, he was far from a Martha Stewart; and, even if he
were older, it is still hard to exactly time it so that corn dogs are
heated through and ready at the same time as marshmallows become golden.
So, by the time he returned with the snacks, lightly overed in foil, his
father was sound asleep, well, appeared to be so anyway, in pitch darkness.
Casey was unsure what to do, he figured he would awaken his dad sometime
during the night.  He could almost "hear" in his mind his dad's routine
chiding of him for wasting food, so he vowed not to let the snacks sit
untouched all night.  Casey was wearing pajamas, well, just the shorts part
of a set, something he rarely did.  Casey felt a slight draft from the
doorway, so, after setting the tray of goodies down on the night table, he
gripped the edge of the lightweight blanket and quickly slipped under the
cover.  He heard his dad's breathing and found it very comforting and, at
the same time, very similar in its rhythm to Ryan's steady breathing in his
sleep.  The coolness of the plush down pillow and the inviting warmth of
the lavender-scented sheets were slowly encouraging his drifting off into
sleep.  Yet before he had completely nodded off and while still lying on
his back, he felt a stirring under the blanket to his right and his
father's body roll on top of him.  He was about to gasp when his father
began kissing him firmly and repeatedly and whispered: "Welcome home, son."
Casey quickly absorbed what was happening and the unmistakable fact that
his father was completely awake and completely nude and was within seconds
knowingly unsnapping and pulling down his own son's bottoms.