Date: Thu, 03 Aug 2023 22:54:53 +0000
From: DCfield90 <DCfield90@protonmail.com>
Subject: Decent Progress Chapter 11

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Decent Progress Chapter 11

Wind fluttered their hair and shirts as buildings whipped by and the engine
growled. Outside the white doors and plush black leather of Brody's truck,
everything seemed so removed. Christian likened it to a spaceship or maybe
an airplane with the little toy houses and tiny cars way far down
below. The world bended its way around as nothing more than a passing
mirage, leaving the two of them as the only real things. Christian hoped
the faraway look in Brody's contended eyes meant he felt the same. They
arrived at Christian's gym too soon.

"I love riding in this thing." Christian confessed.

"Or you're just too lazy to get your driver's license."

"No really!" Christian piped up, offended, "The truck is special."

"I know." Brody put it in park. "We're completely on our own in here."

Brody paused for a second before saying,

"We should take another trip. Like we did for the beach but just the two of
us."

Christian's heart nearly catapulted out of his chest.

"That would be amazing! Where to, the beach again? I'll have to lie to my
parents, maybe I can fool them into thinking I'm going with a group?"

Brody laughed in pleasure at his enthusiasm.

"Deal with your parents however you want, but you're coming with me even if
I have to kidnap you from your house."

Christian imagined Brody bundling him into a sack in the middle of the
night.

"I was thinking somewhere cold. Somewhere up north. How does a cabin in the
mountains sound?"

"it sounds..."

Christian's mind flickered through a rolodex of images: hot cocoa off a
steel kettle, snow falling outside a frosted pane of glass, rosy cheeks,
thick scarfs... raging firelight reflected on bare ivory skin....

"amazing."

"I know just the place, vacation spot my family uses. Okay then," He said,
clapping his hands together as if the whole thing was settled,

"I'll call my father's good friend and wheedle him into renting the place,
WITHOUT telling my father. I have enough money saved to cover the cost but
YOU need to buy some winter clothes, or I'll dress you in a quilt with arm
holes cut in it. Get some decent boots for hikes, we're not cowering
indoors the entire time...let's see, what else...maybe plan some meals? I
plan on bulk buying food to minimize trips to the store, and- what?"

Christian was barely expressing a smirk listening to his stream of
planning. Annoying and patronizing as it was, it was equally lovable for
its passion.

"Nothing."

Brody knew he was being laughed at for his over-enthusiasm and tried to
glower. But Christian's guileless smile broke him down and he started
giggling. Christian did likewise and they ended up in a big tickle fight on
the front seat, with Brody of course on top.

"I give! I give!"  Christian gasped as Brody's fingers dug at his armpits

"I'll only accept surrender," Brody said with a fresh jab at Christian's
underarms prompting another howl, "if you promise to come with me!"

"I don't- AAHH! Need convincing!"

"Good." He stopped tickling but didn't get off Christian, who tried to
regain composure.

"Is this just how you invite people to stuff? Lay on them until they say
yes?"

"I've hit on a new method of persuasion. I'm a wrestler, whaddayu expect?"

"It's not new. You forced me to the beach this way."

Their faces were even closer now. They couldn't smell the leather anymore,
just each other.

"True." Brody snaked his fingers through Christian's hair. "Maybe it's just
you then."

The atmosphere was getting heavy when Christian's phone rumbled. It was his
mother.

"Yeah Mom? Oh okay cool we're just finishing up. Yeah, stir fry sounds
great! I'll help dad with the prep...nah it's fine, I don't have much
homework for once. Love you too."

"You're coming to my meet right?"

Brody had moved off him. Christian grimaced as he considered his schedule
schedule.

"I've got practice then I've gotta help my dad with a yard project, then
studying."

"C'mon, it's in the evening. You'll have plenty of time for all that."

"I dunno."

"Please...?"

"Okay fine."

"Excellent!"

Christian had no intention of missing Brody's meet, and his father never
worked in the yard, but it was nice to see that Brody really wanted him
there.

"This is a big one. If I place in the top two it qualifies me for
Nationals."

"Wow. Have you been to nationals before?"

Brody ruefully shook his head.

"I broke my hand. Most disgusting bit of bad luck ever and it happened a
week before the event. I went for a takedown in practice, a move I'd done a
million times, and just landed wrong."

Christian remembered him going around last year in a red cast, and he and
Thomas had tested its structural integrity by cracking a window pane in the
science building. That was before Christian even knew his name.

Brody shook his head again, looking thoughtful.

"Even now, I can't help replaying it in my head. If I'd done it just a bit
differently; turned my arm, twisted my hip, gone lower on my partner's
waist. The slightest change might've prevented it."

"It's like the butterfly effect," Christian suggested. Brody nodded.

"Life's a lot of little moments adding up to one big picture, the way dots
make an impressionist painting. But sometimes one little dot affects
absolutely everything."

"You're tuning into Philosophy Hour: the Carter-Larson theory of life,"
Christian said in a mock-radio voice. Brody aimed a playful kick at him.

"Who knows, I might be a national champion right now instead of in a few
months."

"You're so arrogant," Christian teased, "Doesn't it ever bite you in the
ass?"

"That's your job, my little buttmuncher,"

Brody dug his fingers into Christian's ribs, who squealed.

"I am NOT *ahahaha!* eating your ass! And don't call me little, I'm your
size."

"My frame's bigger than yours, and if I take my clothes off you'll do
whatever I say."

"If you come in first in this meet," Christian challenged, "I WILL do
whatever you say."

"Done." Brody winked. "You may regret it."



That evening Christian's dad put on music and his hideous pink apron, worn
exclusively because it annoyed his mom, and Christian helped him chop the
veggies and meat for dinner. Always relaxed, Christian's dad was at
particular ease when cooking. His mom sweated and strained over the
simplest of dishes and made what his dad called "unforced errors." Cooking
stressed her like nothing else and in her desire to make her food pleasing,
she ended up doing the opposite. But his dad glided around the kitchen
effortlessly, nodding his curly head to the music, slugging beer, and
speculating with Christian about the upcoming gymnastics season. His mom
hurricaned into the kitchen venting about the morons at work, and calmed
after she shucked off her heels and poured some wine.

"Let's say grace," She said unexpectedly before they started eating.

"Really? Since when-"

"It's just been a while. C'mon," With outstretched hands she beckoned with
her fingers.

"Fair enough. I'll say it. Bless us oh Lord, and these thy gifts..."

Dinner went it's typical way, though it was weird how his mom suddenly got
nostalgic for saying grace. And there was something underlying his parents
normal banter. Sure, they argued as vociferously as ever but it was somehow
forced. As if they were putting on a show of normality...throwing a blanket
over an elephant in the room.

"I'm imagining things. Getting as paranoid as Brody."

But when they washed up the dishes and Christian made a spring for the
stairs, he was summoned back into the living room where both of them were
sitting with an air of gravitas. All humor was gone from their faces but
they didn't look angry.

"So anyway sweetie, we've been talking..."

She laid a lot of emphasis on that word.

"Now don't get angry."

Great.

"But we think we know the deal with you and Brody."

Oh fuck. Shit. Shitty fuck.

"And we want you to know that we're perfectly fine with your
orientation. We love you no matter what your sexuality is. That doesn't
matter to us. But we think-"

"Hold on, babe. You're going a bit fast." His father interjected calmly.

It was a good thing he did because Christian's head was swimming. His
parents thought he was gay? He wasn't ready to be gay!

"I'm-...We aren't... We're just friends!" He sputtered.

His mother looked at him with a mix of pity and amusement.

"Suddenly you go on pre-dawn walks even though you've NEVER liked the
outdoors. And then come back wearing clothes that aren't yours? And
smelling like-"

Seeing her son's humiliation she stopped herself. His hands were clasped in
his lap, gaze fixed on his feet. They were such small feet, she noticed.

"Sweetie... it's alright. We're not mad in the slightest, but please level
with us. We need a conversation but that can't happen unless we're on the
same page."

 Christian heard his blood pounding in his ears as he fought against the
current of his own thoughts. He could say it was a girl he was with at
Brody's house. He admittedly snuck out to a party, drank some, snuck off to
a spare room with a girl. But they could confirm with Brody's dad there was
no party! Okay, maybe he snuck off to hang out with Brody, his clothes got
wet in the rain, and the shirt leant to him was inadvertently Brody's
skeetrag. Yuck, that was almost worse than the truth, and stupid! As
Christian's mind careened through these possibilities, his honest self
wilted in the prolonged silence and the tide of lies in his head subsided.

"I..."

Christian fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"...I really like him."

He paused and continued.

"He's got issues but he's not a bad person. He just..."

Christian flailed his hands a bit trying to find the words.

"...He feels big. Big emotions. But different to other people too. He
doesn't always act like he should but he's got such a big heart mom, you've
got no idea."

"Is it big enough to hold you?"

Christian was taken aback. When had she ever spoken so poetically?

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Of course he was. The better question was where in Brody's heart he fit.

"I'm sure."

She nodded slowly but looked unconvinced.

"So when did this happen? I mean, who made the first move?"

"He did," Christian said, burning up from embarrassment.

Her face said `well duh, that was an obvious question' before she asked her
next one.

"Are you two dating, or are you-"

His father interjected in his calm manner.

"I think they're still figuring that out. Early days, right Chris?"

Christian nodded gratefully looking into his father's hazel eyes. As aloof
and carefree as he was, Christian forgot his dad's perceptiveness.

"Yeah but I want to. I hope he wants it too."

The words popped out on their own.

His mother smiled. Her eyes were shining.

"Come here Christian."

He got up and they embraced. Christian could smell the expensive shampoo in
her hair, a lavender one, unchanged from when he was little. It brought
back so many memories all at once that tears welled up in his own eyes, and
flowed freely when his dad hugged them both.

"I love you both so much. My sweet boys..."

Finally they released each other, all of them dabbing at their eyes and
laughing at the slight embarrassment of being so emotional, though of
course none of them regretted it.

"I get it, Christian," She said, putting her hands on his shoulders, "You
like this kid. And it's not that I don't trust the judgement of a hormonal
16 year old.." Christian giggled and hiccupped, still wiping away tears,
"...But I believe that this Brody is a...a..."

She threw her eyes to the heavens in search of inspiration, "A
high-maintenance person."

Christian giggled even harder.

"Mom, don't you think I've realized that by now?"

"Of course you have." Here his father spoke. "We just think he's going to
demand a lot of you. Time, energy, patience, the whole nine yards. And if
we think he's demanding too much from our little overachiever, we reserve
the right as your parents to stick our noses in. Understood?"

"Yes dad." He had a great talent for making ultimatums sound nice.

"Good. Now how `bout some desert?"

Christian's dad served ice cream and they had a quick chat about more
trivial things to unwind before bed. Christian himself felt
exhausted. Emotional work could be as draining as physical work. It was a
good kind of tired, like his muscle tension had squeezed itself out through
his tear ducts. He nursed his calloused hands and aching feet with some
lotion, then tumbled into a dreamless sleep.





Christian didn't see or hear much of Brody the next week. He was absent
Monday and Tuesday, and not in English the following day. Following his
nature Christian loaded his phone with messages and blasted them across a
whole spectrum of apps, and Brody replied (sounding amused) that all was
well, he just had a bit of a stomach virus though nothing to inhibit him
for the meet. Though he had the sneaking suspciioc this wasn't the truth,
Christian let it slide. He knew how Brody could get when he was badgered.

Wednesday came quickly and Christian walked the baseball field to the gym
where the meet was held, dropped off at school by his father with gracious
thanks. It was blowy and overcast, purple clouds hanging low with a few
drops beginning to fall. Christian put his hood up and walked faster. The
fall sun had lowered behind the clouds and darkness set in quickly. The gym
bustled with activity as coaches, wrestlers and parents streamed in the
double doors, and Christian squeezed inside unnoticed. Brody assured him
there were no tickets of any kind.

It was such a messy confusion that Christian just stood for a while
wondering what to do. Harried-looking volunteers rapped at laptop keyboards
on white folding tables, coaches corralled boisterous wrestlers and parents
wandered about with their phones outstretched taking endless videos. The
basketball court had been covered with blue matting and digital scoreboards
placed at intervals trailed wires that were tripped over every thirty
seconds. Eventually Christian sidled over to the bleachers. A megaphone
echoed through the building:

*Parents and guests, make your way to the bleachers please. Teams take your
places. We will begin shortly*

Christian took an end place on the hard plastic row next to a very big man
with a very large beard.

"You got a brother down there?"

The man's voice boomed like a cannon. Christian actually winced from the
sudden noise.

"Umm no, my friend."

"What club?"

"Uhhh..." For the life of him, he couldn't remember what team or group or
club Brody was part of. He felt himself going red.

"It's okay! HAHAHA!" The man's laugh was like the thunder outside, "It
doesn't matter! They're competing in-di-VIJ-ually. Not a school meet."

"My friend said this was to place at nationals."

The man nodded his beard.

"Can do, can do. My son down there, Clarke, that's his goal tonight. Who's
your friend?"

"Brody. Brody Larson." Christian said proudly. He saw the man's eyebrows
ascend into his camo ballcap.

"Oh! Really?"

"Yes...umm...why?"

"Oh nothing, nothing!" The man shook his head with a big show of
nonchalance and waving a huge calloused hand, "He's just been known...on
O-CAY-JUN...to be kinda..."

"A jerk?"

The man squinched his eyes and raised his shoulders in a
`yes-but-I-don't-want-to-say-so' way. Christian giggled.

"He takes some getting used to."

"Well I hope he's glad you're here! Wrestling doesn't have enough FANS!" He
clapped a heavy paw on Christian's back.

The matches began in quick order, one after another with little
respite. Lack of chairs meant the wrestlers sprawled around in scrums at
the mat's edges while coaches bellowed advice to the combatants. There was
a constant cacophony of noise and occasionally a great cheer rose from the
sidelines as a particularly heroic move was pulled off. Christian watched
intently but kept an anxious eye peeled for Brody, who he didn't see
anywhere. His weight class was coming up.

"What weight class is Clarke?"

"170, but looking to move up! There he is!"

He pointed to a craggy boulder dressed in a green singlet.

"The weight cut is a killer for him!"

Brody mentioned weight-cutting as an integral part of the sport, but didn't
think it was necessary.

"It's enervating and takes away your real edge, which is physical
fitness. All focus should be on that not on gaining meager bonus points in
outweighing others" He'd said piously.

Finally the 145's were up and announced over the speaker: "Cooper Maddux vs
Justin Highgate, 145. Lionel Doherty vs Jackson Smith, 155. Arjun Singh
vs. Brody Larson, 145."

"Maybe he's in the locker room," he thought to himself.

Then he saw him, finally! His short black hair was sleek and shiny under
the fluorescents, cheekbones high and arrogant. He pulled his hoody over
his head revealing his bare torso; his white singlet was unrolled to his
waist. Christian's jaw dropped.

"Fuck he is so sexy."

He hastily retrieved his jaw so his new friend wouldn't think he was a
total pervert, but It was the first time he'd SEEN Brody in a singlet. He'd
noted some of the boy's bodies in their revealing outfits, especially one
handsome blond with a nice package, but Brody was on another plane of
existence. Christian could just watch his abs ripple all day, their deep
lines running down, down...what he'd give to be before him on his knees
right now...

"Oh my god."

He realized he was sporting a boner and drooling. Get it together!

"Save if for After."

He'd promised Brody a good time if he placed in the meet, and Brody made it
clear he'd be collecting his reward expeditiously. As if Christian would
refuse even if he came dead last.

Brody was checking in at the desk. Alarmingly, he was smaller than most of
the competition. He seemed so imposing to Christian, such a big presence.

"Probably because of his personality. And hotness."

As he jogged to the center of the circle and crouched, the dark-skinned boy
opposite him doing the same, Christian felt his heart beat faster. His mind
cleared of smut instantly. Brody had said wrestling was a fight, and when
it was someone you cared about, that reality became much clearer. Wild
images of Brody getting hurt, Brody in pain, Brody prone and helpless,
flashed through Christian's mind instead. He gripped the seat below him
hard and willed the images away.

"Stay strong. Stay strong for Brody."

The whistle blew. Before the sound subsided Brody dived for the guy's ankle
in a diagonal streak of black and white. Unprepared for the sudden attack
his opponent moved to the side, but Brody had snagged his foot and reeled
his leg in. He followed the boy's sideways motion, hooked the guy's other
leg with his own, and sent him crashing to the mat.

"Two!" Christian's friend boomed. He'd been coaching Christian a bit on the
rules as they watched. Two points awarded for a takedown.

"Your friend has moves!"

"Yeah!" Christian said in astonishment. He knew Brody was athletic from
their workout together, knew he was quick from their flirty little
play-wrestling, but had no idea he was this blisteringly fast.

He torqued the dark-skinned boy's arm, bending his shoulder to the mat for
a pin. His opponent's face contorted with pain and effort, digging his feet
in to stymie the assault, heaving with all his might. But Brody was
relentless. The referee slapped the mat and blew the whistle.

"Yeah, go Brody! Way to go!" Christian cheered over the
crowd. Unfortunately Brody couldn't hear him as the ref raised his arm. For
him it was just another day at the office as he dispatched his following
opponents with alacrity. Boasting no size advantage over any of them, he
made up for it with speed and ferocity.

And Christian saw why he had a reputation.

Several times he was cautioned for unnecessary roughness as he wrenched
opponent's shoulders, twisted their necks and struck their heads with an
open palm. Nothing was against the rules but he deployed legal moves with
such brutality that they looked illegal.

And it didn't end on the mat. Christian saw him exchanging words with other
squads riling the boys up as their coaches tried to sooth them. They made
outraged exclamations and seethed when Brody flung mocking grins in their
direction. He could see the words "just ignore him, focus!" on the coaches'
lips. Christian saw a fair amount of bad sportsmanship from the more brutal
boys, but not the kind of calculated, systematic antagonizing that Brody
unleashed on them.

On his penultimate match he faced a very athletic boy with a taped shoulder
healing from an injury. Brody targeted it like a shark on a seabream,
angling all his attacks upon it. The other boy had superior strength but
Brody wore him down. Finally Brody performed a ducking maneuver and
bear-hugged the boy around the waist, lifting him with a thrust of his
pelvis and dumping him right on his injured shoulder. The boy cried out
piteously as he struck the mat and lay prone as the referee stopped the
match. Some in the crowd muttered as Brody walked off, not sparing a glance
for his wounded foe.

He was ruthless.

"He treats it like a fight to the death," Christian remarked to his friend.

"Sure does! Not a bad thing, but a little more sportsmanship might go a
long way!" His friend responded, looking slightly guilty like he'd said too
much. Christian was torn. His behavior was ugly. But this was HIS
Brody. Wild ferocious Brody who was beautiful and terrible at the same
time.

The finals were held at the very end, which both Christian and his friend
agreed was exciting. As Clarke bulldozed his way to victory his bearded
friend bellowed enough to shake the rafters, nearly knocking Christian over
as he surged to his feet when the referee raised his son's arm. He even
hugged Christian in his enthusiasm, and Christian giggling hugged him back.

"I gotta get down there! Gotta see my boy! Hope to see you here again!" He
roared, landing a ponderous hand on Christian's shoulder.

"You bet! Tell Clarke congratulations!" He squeaked.

"Will do, and best of luck to your friend!" He laughed, squeezing past
Christian with a final farewell as his petite wife gave a sweet smile,
leaving him alone but with more space on the bleacher.

It was Brody's turn now. The blond was fist bumping his teammates and
practicing some footwork. It was amazing how lightly he moved for his rangy
frame. A group raising cheers for the blond cried,

"Let's go Justin!"

Brody's opponent was the tall blond Christian had guiltily checked out
before. He flicked his floppy hair out of his face and adjusted his red
singlet, peering over at Brody, sizing him up. Christian was nervous. The
blond had eliminated his competition as easily as Brody had, and even with
his novice eye Christian saw his flawless technique. And that
wingspan...how could Brody get by those lengthy arms?

*Justin Highgate vs. Brody Larson, 145 pound championship*

They were up. Christian's pulse was pounding so hard and loud he felt it
was carrying him off his seat. A feeing of disembodiment came over him,
feeling hyperaware yet distant.

"I don't even get this nervous in gymnastics. How do they stand it?"

Through the fog of his addled perception he heard a whistle. They circled
each other, feinting and pawing at the other's head. Brody wasn't being as
aggressive as usual; Justin's length made him hard to take down. Other boys
had dived for his legs and Justin's long arms forestalled them. Then he
would grab them, snap a 180 degree turn and be at their backs in a
heartbeat. Brody dashed in for Justin's ankle, clearly tired of waiting,
but his hand grasped air. The blond whirled and just like that, Brody was
on the defensive with Justin hanging on his back, stabbing at Brody's legs
to trip him down.

Brody reached behind him to get a grip on Justin's head, but the blond was
slippery as a greased eel. He smoothed his way to Brody's other side and
twisted his hips while seizing Brody behind the knee. Down they went. Not
wasting a moment Justin crossed Brody's legs together and rolled like a
crocodile, spinning them both on the mat.

"Those're exposure points. You get points for turning your opponent,"
Christian's friend had told him, though Christian had gathered as much by
the referees motions. When the whistle blew for time, Brody was down
0-6. The blond glided to his corner and Brody stalked over to his own. His
coach was gesticulating and his mouth was urgently moving urging some
strategy on his pupil. Brody was nodding. He didn't look worried. Even
though Christian's heart was breaking at the thought of him losing, he was
very proud of Brody's composure. Temperamental by disposition, he didn't
allow it to overmaster him on the mat, but let the aggression show in his
wrestling.

And he let it loose in the following round. Deciding that reigning it in
was a losing tac, he instead applied such non-stop pressure that even
Justin's superior technique and grace was having trouble coping. Brody
locked in with him head-to-head, grabbing Justin's neck and snapping like a
dog with a squirrel. He lashed him several times all the while forcing him
back. Justin's length provided some leverage but he was soon pushed out of
the circle.

"Well he's on the board." But only one point.

Justin looked like he avoiding the head-to-head this time. He on his knees
at angles, subtly trying to corner Brody, staying low and looking
predatory. Then he launched himself upward. Brody was caught by surprise,
expecting another attack on the ankles. He hadn't anticipated Justin
engaging him squarely. They grappled with their heads together in a
blistering fury; yanking, twisting, bashing. Christian could see Justin had
the upper hand this time. He was beating Brody at his own game, forcing his
head down and pinning his arms over his head by bundling them up at the
shoulders. Brody's legs were grinding the mat to keep standing, his arms
immobilized. Christian felt rage and frustration, his ears hot and fists
balling in his lap.

Fortunately there was nothing Justin could really do with his position, and
the referee separated them on grounds of a stalemate. Once more they faced
each other and locked in, but this time Justin flung Brody's arms to the
side and tackled him at the knees. Brody went down and rotated to his
stomach. Christian knew it was vital to avoid the pin, but also knew Justin
gained points from the takedown. Again the referee declared a stalemate and
Justin chose starting position. Brody began on his knees and tried to
stand, but Justin kicked his ankle and tripped him. Brody stumbled and
Justin rushed in, hoisting Brody by his midriff and slamming him hard.

*WHACK*

Christian felt tears in his eyes and wiped them away furiously. They were
both on all fours with Justin hanging on Brody's back, who was scrambling
forwards to avoid him. Christian felt devastated.

"How much are they gonna celebrate him losing" he thought disgustedly.

But then it happened. What everyone thought was a wild scramble was
anything but. With a magician's deftness Brody stuck his leg between
Justin's and snaked an arm backwards around his neck. Corkscrewing like an
alligator with a hapless mammal, Brody torqued them both. Christian saw
Justin's surprised face as it orbited, reddened from lack of oxygen, around
Brody's back. Powering with his other arm he completed the reversal and
suddenly, before a stunned crowd and a roaring section of the mat, Justin
was on his back with Brody crushing his head between his chest and
bicep. Justin fluttered and thrashed like a pinioned bird.

"Get out of it Jus, get out!!" Someone screamed.

 But Brody bore down and squeezed with unprecedented savagery. All his
teeth were barred and his eyes were mad and feral. The ref dove to his
knees to examine the position, blew his whistle and slapped the ground. It
was over.

"YYEEEEAASSS!"

His shriek turned the furious heads of the blond's clan but Christian
didn't care. Brody was being thumped and shook by his squadmates as Justin
massaged his neck and spoke heatedly with the referee alongside his furious
coach. The referee shook his head over and over, finally raising Brody's
hand in triumph. There was no handshake between the combatants.

"YEAH BRODY!" Christian called in rapture. The dark-haired boy saw him
looking up, and his smile was like the Fourth of July. With his free hand
he blew a kiss to the bleachers and laughed.

As if he couldn't feel any more joy, that blown kiss put wings on
Christian's shoulders for a flight to heaven.

"God, I love him."

The thought came unbidden. But he knew it was true.



End of Chapter 11