Hey everyone welcome to my fourth story on Nifty. "Counting Down" is going to be a great story. It is the long-awaited sequel to "Counting" and I would suggest reading it first.

If you do enjoy "Counting Down", please read some of my other works: Counting, Bear & Cub, Not Capable of Love, Go Bag (Look for this in "Boys of Grizzly Valley"), Fire (Look for this in "Boys of Grizzly Valley") and Jaded (on AO3). You can find my AO3 stories by clicking here: (TuxEdwards) Please take a few minutes to drop me an email to let me know if "Counting Down" is for you: Foxfire3730@proton.me

 

If you like my stories and want to tip or donate to me, consider buying me a coffee: Thank You

 

"The Universe is Made of Stories, Not of Atoms" -Muriel Rukeyser

 

Hard Decisions

 

Beau

I'm covered in dirt, from my cowboy boots to my leather-gloved fingers. I took my checkered shirt off and stored it in my saddle bags as soon as the sun broke the horizon. The twins are thinking it might rain today, so we're busting our asses to get the horses checked out by Doc Conner. The sick grey mare was in this bunch, and we're just making sure none of the other horses are sick. Zeke is sitting on the gate, making sure it doesn't close as Zack and I funnel the horses through it to the front pasture section of the barn. 

Dust kicks up as I shout, "HIYAAA!" Maneuvering my horse, Checkers, around to block the left flank, Zack on his horse, Night Whisper, pushes the herd through the gate. I wave my lasso around in one hand, making a distraction, and I even smack a couple hindquarters with it to get the herd moving in the right direction. The horses are used to us moving them around, so doing this isn't that hard. Now, doing this with new horses, well, it would take all of us. The last horse goes through, followed by Zack and myself. Zeke jumps down and closes the gate. I slide off Checkers and listen to Zeke's instructions.

"Good job, Beau. Since we have them separated for the Doc, we're going to shoe them after he's done. I want you to stick to the Doc and help him with whatever he's doing."

"Sure thing, Zeke. I'll watch him like a hawk," I answer, and he pats my back. 

"Take it easy, sport; I just need you to help him when he needs it," he laughs, pushing my cowboy hat down on my head. I nod, fix my hat, and take Checkers' reins, leading him to the hitching pole. I know what the twins are trying to do, and it's helping, if only a little. They are trying to keep me busy, so I don't worry about AJ. This morning started unlike any other day:

I wake up, but I'm not fully willing to leave the warm sheets under me that I've worked so hard to generate. Once I get awake enough to realize that I'm laying by myself, I reach out for my boyfriend's small body. My hand groggily moves about the bed and finds nothing but cold sheets. "AJ?" I whisper my question before I dare to open my eyes to the new day.

I try to focus my eyes, only to see just two small dents in the shape of my brothers. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and say with a yawn, "AJ, are you in here?" Looking around the room, I see him standing over by the window, still naked. The sunlight shines off his small bubble butt, which is a tad whiter than the rest of him. I slip out of bed, watch him a little longer, and see next to his skinny legs a box that has 'Rubik's Cubes' written on it in black marker.

He hasn't picked up a cube in a long time. Something must be really bothering him. "AJ, what's wrong?" I ask him softly so as not to startle him. When he gets like this, his focus is so finely tuned that he gets startled easily. 

His hands work feverishly, spinning each section with expert skill. It's kind of hard to follow his movements, to be honest. He drops the finished cube on his feet and gets another one out of the box. There must be twenty or thirty solved cubes at his feet. "Oh dear, AJ. Beau, how long has he been like this?" 

The question comes from the door, and I turn to see Mom and Colt. Colt looks scared and is holding her hand. "I just woke up and found him like this. What's wrong with him, mom?"

She gives me Colt's hand and tells us, "Boys, head down to breakfast. AJ will be fine."

I take Colt's hand, and we head downstairs. "He wouldn't talk to me. What's wong with him?" Colt asks in his little, quiet voice. 

"Nothing; he's fine. He's just working on his puzzles," I tell him unconvincingly and hug him so he can't see me wipe a tear from my eye. It started about a year ago. I noticed little things about AJ at first. He would be sore when I woke up, but he explained it as growing pains; he seems to be using his inhaler more and being tired a lot when we play, and lately it doesn't take much to get his body shaking. When he gets nervous or really mad, he starts to just wrap his arms around his head and begin to do multiplication tables or repeat pie over and over. Sometimes he drops to his knees and screams. I normally would be able to pull him out and calm him down, but it's getting worse. Now, it's almost like he sees through me when he's like this. Half of the time, he doesn't even remember having had the episode. Zack is always a huge help when this happens, but he can't be here with AJ all the time.

Colt hurries over to the breakfast bar. I'm mesmerized by his little butt jiggle as he trots over and climbs up on his stool. I walk over and scratch my slightly dropped balls as I pull out my stool. There are warm bagels under a towel and three different kinds of cream cheeses on the table. As I sit down, Colt leans over the bar. His naked little butt lifts slightly off his stool to reach for the food. The stool is cold on my skin as my bare ass sits down. Turning on the TV, we watch cartoons. I make sure Colt isn't making a mess of the bar or himself with cream cheese. After a little while, I find myself looking upstairs, hoping to see AJ come down, but nothing yet. 

Since we got here in Grizzly Valley and AJ's first trip to that children's hospital, he, mom, and dad have been acting funny. Secretly talking to each other in hushed tones and leaving us here when they go to the hospital. About a month ago, mom sat me and Colt down and told us, "I know you two have a lot of questions, and you've been asking AJ. I'm asking you two to trust us and don't ask any more questions. We've told AJ not to answer them, and neither will we. AJ has a very important decision to make, and he doesn't need distractions or input. I'm sorry, boys; all will be explained when the time is right." 

I'm not a fool. I know something's wrong, even if AJ won't admit it. I've heard the stories from Zeke and Zack at the campfire about the night the wolves attacked the herd of cattle on AJ's birthday. How his friends and Zeke fought off four of the wolves and were completely unaware of the trouble Zack and AJ were in on the other side of the herd. I've seen AJ's scars on his legs where the wolves were dragging him away before Zack came out of the darkness to save him. 

There is a part they leave out of that story. A part that I've pieced together over these years is that I've lived with them. AJ died that night twice, and it's a miracle that he's alive. I can't imagine the life the Colters have had. 

Just as Prince Adam turns into He-Man by yelling, "By the power of Grayskull!" I hear the stairs creeking and see AJ stomping down with our mom behind him. 

"Are you okay?" I was a little more forceful than I meant to be.

Colt slips out of his chair and hugs AJ with everything he has. "You scawed me, AJ!"

"What? What's wrong? Look, I'm fine," AJ says as he peels Colt off, then jokes, "Well, I'm starving, but other than that, I'm fine."

He doesn't know. I look over to Mom, and the look on my face must have said it all. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she's been crying. She shakes her head a little, letting me know my suspicions are correct. AJ climbs up on his stool with a smile on his face and joins us for breakfast. Mom gets the milk, and I can't help but wonder how this is going to end. 

I watch him and Colt messing around like it was any morning. My frustration builds as I watch him act totally normal. He scared the shit out of Colt and me. There he sits, laughing and joking around. Mom heads into her office, and I take advantage of the alone moment I've been given. I lean over to the bar and whisper to AJ, "Hey, what's your deal? Are you okay?"

AJ stops chewing, looks at Colt, then at me, and says, with his mouth full of bagels and a little bit of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth, which makes him look so adorable that I feel like shit for being angry. "Yeah.... Why? I feel fine," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders as if he didn't space out and was unresponsive to my voice this morning. 

Mom comes back in the kitchen, and I sit up, and Mom asks, "Does everyone have everything they need?" 

I hop out of my chair in the huff and slam it up to the bar, making as much noise as I can. "Not everything!" I answer her and storm upstairs with blank looks on the faces of the rest of my family. 

I stomp upstairs all the way to my room. I don't like being mad at AJ, but not knowing how bad it is is driving me crazy. I open the drawer with our work clothes in it. I pull out boxers, blue jeans, and my blue and red checkered shirt with as much attitude as I can muster. I don't understand. Is it because we're adopted? Is that why they won't tell us? 

"Hey, sport! You dressed yet?" Zeke asks as he knocks and walks into our bedroom. "Wow, my little brother is beginning to grow up before my eyes."

I turn with my boxers in my hand and look at him curiously, asking, "You think so?" 

Zeke sits on the bed, and motions me over. I drop my boxers and walk over to him. He takes my cock in his hand and I watch his hand as my cock grows in his hand as he gently strokes it. "Your cock is way thicker and way longer, and your balls have also dropped. Look! What's this, You've even got a few hairs beginning to grow." He rolls my balls around in his hand taking measure of each of them. I close my eyes and enjoy the surprising attention from my favorite twin. I brace myself on his shoulders not knowing how far he's going to take this and a soft moan escapes my lips. "I don't get to see you naked as much as I like since I am out of the house before you wake up," he tells me, and it sounds like he is proud of me.

"I do miss your spankings," I embarrassedly admit.

"Your muscles look great. How strong are ya?"

I hold up my arm, holding it tightly, showing off the muscle. Zeke feels it and nods as if he's impressed. He forcibly taps my abs, and I stand firm, preparing for the next blow, but I couldn't prepare for what he does next. 

The ball slap was fast and unstoppable. Hit me squarely on the bare nuts. "Zeke! Why?!" 

He laughs and puts me in a headlock, telling me to hurry up and get dressed; Doc will be here soon. "No time for `rough fun games.' I'll have to spank you later if you want," he teases me. After a noogy and a bit of squirming on my part, he lets me go and backs out of the room, laughing. "If you were dressed when I got up here, that wouldn't have happened. See you downstairs, sport," he says with a wink. 

Oh, I'll get him back, and when I slap his balls, he'll be the one that feels like he's going to throw up. I struggle to get dressed and grab my cowboy hat off the hook as I hurry downstairs. At three steps to go, I leap over the handrail, and Zeke gives me a silent clap, saying, "Don't let mom see you do that." 

"Let me see what?" Mom says from the kitchen. 

Zeke laughs, putting me in another headlock and moving us to the door. I catch my hat as it falls off, saying, "Nothing, mom! Talk to you later."

AJ 

Colt and I lay on our stomachs, watching cartoons. Our legs sway back and forth and occasionally touch, making us both giggle. "I've always loved GI-Joe," I tell him, and he agrees with me with a half-paying attention response. "Colt, are you okay?"

He looks troubled and pulls his legs underneath him so that he's sitting cross-legged, displaying his perfect, little, hard spike that he's been rubbing on the carpet along with me. He wants to tell me something but looks worried about the outcome. I sit up and sit on my knees, making my hard-on stick straight up to my belly button. "What's wrong, Colt? Come on, tell me."

He's hesitant to tell me and checks the room to make sure we're alone. Then, when he's sure, he softly asks, "What's wong with you?"

"What?" I respond, a little taken back by his question. "You know that I'm sick. Is that what you mean?" 

He fiddles with his little dick as it softens and shrinks to its original size. "You've been... kind of, mowe... sick lately. It kind of scawes me," he admits. 

"Scare you... Colt, how do I..."

The back door closes startling us both. Dad has come in and given us both a smile. "Hey boys, are you watching TV?" He asks as he hangs his cowboy hat up next to the door and takes off his t-shirt. I look back at Colt, and he's lying down on his stomach, watching TV again. Pulling my attention back to him, dad says, "I'm going to take a shower, and we can go, AJ." I nod my acknowledgment that I heard him, and he continues, "Have you two showered yet? Why don't you join me?"

I give Colt one more look, and he looks like if I keep our conversation going, he could get into trouble. I mouth, `I'm sorry,' and we get up and hurry into dad's arms. Dad absorbs our momentum and helps me up on his back. With my arms around his neck, he picks up Colt, and together we climb the stairs like some kind of three-headed monster. Dad grunts and acts like he can barely move with our added weight. 

He trudges down the hall to the master bedroom, and somehow we ended up on each of his legs, holding on for dear life. What was giggling before has turned into straight-out laughing as he lunges forward till we get to the bed. Then he heaves us up one at a time onto it, and we bounce around, tangling our naked bodies, trying to tickle each other.

Dad watches to make sure we don't get out of hand as he takes off his farm clothes and prepares the shower. "Alright, you jaybirds, in the shower," he says, rushing us in. The water feels good, and we both dance in place until we get good and wet. Dad joins us, and as the raindrop shower soaks him, he is soaping up my hair. He hands me the bottle of shampoo, and I soap up Colt's hair. As my fingers move in and out of his mullet, I don't understand why he and Beau like this haircut, although I do like holding onto it when we have sex. Hehee, Beau's, I mean. 

Colt doesn't like `sex playing'. He's just not into playing with himself, or at least playing with us. He sure is cute to watch, though. Dad turns off the water, and the three of us soap ourselves up, and dad makes sure we get every square inch washed. Once we're squeaky clean, dad drys us off with the fluffiest towel on the rack. 

"You two look great. AJ, take Colt upstairs, and you two get dressed," dad says as he drys his hair with a dry towel, making his dick swing. Colt motions to it, and we both giggle. "Go on, now. Get to it," he finishes and swats my butt a little, making me hurry Colt on out of the room and up the stairs. It kind of stung, but it felt good in an odd way. I like the afterwarmness that it leaves on my cheeks. 

"Did you see it swing?" Colt laughs and jumps on the bed. "Have you ever sucked your dad's dick?" He asks in between laughs. 

"Yuck! No! That's gross," I answer him and throw his little white briefs with Transformers on the crotch. I add with authority, "Put those on and stop horsing around. I have to get going."

He hops to the edge of the bed and slips his underwear over his little white butt cheeks. He sits there as I take out a pair of shorts for him and one more for me. Since we wear the same clothes, we share drawers. He's wearing blue shorts and a red t-shirt today, and I'm in green shorts, to match my eyes, and a white shirt. 

"AJ," he says as he fidgets with his ties on his shorts. 

I pick up our room a little and come across a pile of Rubik's cubes on the floor by the glass door, which is odd. "Yeah, Colt," I answer, not really paying attention. Kneeling down, I pick them up and stack them on the corner of the desk. My first thought was that Colt got into them and pulled them out of their box, but they're all solved. I can see him solve one, but not twenty-three. 

"How sick are you?" Colt asks softly. 

"Colt, did you dump these cubes out of the box?" 

"Don't you remember? You did that this morning," he says. "Don't you remember?"

Remember? Did I do this? I mean, solving a twenty-three rubik's cube sure does sound like me, but I couldn't have done this. Mommy woke me up. She woke me up...

"Come on, AJ. We have to go, or we'll be late. Colt, dear, Gran is downstairs waiting for you. She's going to watch you until we get back. Hurry up now," mom says as she picks up this toy or a pairs of underwear and puts them where they belong. I finish picking up the cubes and hurry downstairs with Mom behind me. 

With four steps to go, Colt bolts and makes the turn, bee-lining it straight into Gran's arms. "How's my favorite little Colt?" she says as she hugs him. 

"Hi Gran," I weakly greet her, dreading the decision I'm going to have to make soon.

Colt steps to the side as Dad puts his little cowboy hat on. She opens her arms, and I hurry into them. She hugs me tightly and whispers in my ear that she's so proud of me. I say thanks, and she tells me to go. Dad puts my cowboy hat on and takes my hand, leading me to the door. 

Once outside, he picks me up and tickles my belly a little, asking if I'm okay. "Yeah," I say softly, and I sigh. "I was just hoping Zack would have stopped by to say bye. "

He sets me in my booster seat and fastens my seatbelt. "He wanted to be here, kiddo. You will see him when you come home."

He shuts the door, and soon we're down the driveway. At the road, take a left, heading into town. The ride to the hospital is long, and we keep it quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. We find a parking space pretty easy, and by the time I get my belt off and the door open, dad is there and insists on carrying me. Normally I would want to walk, but today I felt safer in his strong arms. 

I lay my head on my dad's shoulder and looked in each of the rooms we passed. Kids my age and younger than me sit or lay in their beds connected with tubes and wires to machines, and I wonder to myself: Do they pray for the opportunity that I've been given? If they were in my place, would they take the leap of faith I've been asked to take? 

As we wait for the elevator, I watch a cute little boy in cartoon underwear briefs under his hospital gown as he plays with his GI-Joes on his bed while he watches the same cartoon Colt and I watched this morning. He's lost all his hair and looks thin--maybe thinner than I ever was. He has an IV in his arm. I can tell because of the long tube that leads from his wrist to the bag of clear fluid hanging from the stand on the left of his bed. He also has countless wires, from this distance, that lead from his chest to a machine to his right that I can faintly hear beeping in my hearing aid. He notices me staring and watches me for a few seconds, then smiles and waves at me. The look in his hollow eyes is one of longing. The smile doesn't look like it belongs on his sickly face, but he put it on for me. I force myself to smile and wave my hand slightly back, grabbing dad's attention and making him look at the little boy. Suddenly I feel guilty, undeserving, and foolish for passing on the one thing every kid in this hospital, including me, has wished for on every falling star, every birthday cake candle, and with every coin thrown in a fountain. I lay my head on dad's shoulder once again and watched the boy staring at me. He holds up his GI-Joes and shows me the different ones he has. When the doors open, I wave at him once more, and he returns it before we enter the elevator. 

Mom fixes my t-shirt, trying to rub out the wrinkles and straighten my shorts. "Mom," I whine. 

"Sorry, honey, I guess I'm just nervous."

Dad kisses her, and we take a moment before the doors open to share a hug, and I get a couple kisses after she tells me how proud she is of me. Proud of me... Why? Because I'm scared out of my mind? Am I letting my fear make my decisions for me? Am I making the right choice by not taking a chance on this? A couple years ago, if we'd been given this option, my mom would have just made the choice, but now that I'm almost thirteen, I was included in the decision-making process and was told it was practically up to me. Of course, my parents and the doctors would be there to help me make the right choice, but I had the final say. 

We get into the hospital room, and mom sits down and motions for dad to hand me to her. I transfer parents willingly, and she holds me tightly. The room is common enough as hospital rooms go. There was a brown fake leather bench with the back of it tilted for someone to sit up on it. It has that cold, flimsy white paper that they want you to sit on with your naked bottom. It crinkles and crunches under Dad's weight as he sits on the bench. Next to the doctor's stool are two cloth-covered chairs with some kind of pink and dark blue design; that's where mom and I are sitting. There is a counter with your random hospital instruments and a little sink in the corner.

Time goes by, and eventually the doctor comes and greets us, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Colter?" They shake hands, and then he sits down on the stool that is made for his profession. He leans over and rests his hands on his knees as he rolls the stool over to me and takes a deep breath, looking into my eyes. "That makes you AJ. I'm Dr. McGovern," he says, introducing himself to me, and then shakes my hand just like he did for mom and dad. 

"Well, how special must you feel?" He asks me, and I look to mom to see if she is laughing, thinking I just didn't understand the `dad joke.' 

"Am I?" I am a little unsure of the statement.

"Of course you are! I flew all the way here to meet you. You don't know it, but I've been stalking you for years all the way from New York," he says, acting goofy like what he was telling me was a secret. I wonder if somewhere in his paperwork it says I'm almost thirteen and not seven or eight, like I appear. I hate being this small! He sees the discouraging look on my face and that I'm not enjoying the, `Hey little boy, aren't I funny' routine and sighs again, saying, "I'm sorry, I act like this when I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?" I ask suspiciously. I'm not sure having a doctor who is nervous is the best thing to have.

He reaches out and shakes my knee and answers, "Of course I am. Today, you're going to tell me what you want me to do. I've got your test results and your options. Are you ready to get started?"

The goofiness is gone, and his whole mannerism has changed. He is more serious and professional and sits straighter on the stool. His hand pats the folder in his lap, and he waits for me to say something. 

"Can I change my mind?" I ask a little sheepishly. Mom and dad exchange concerned looks, and I ask again, "I think I've changed my mind; is that okay?"