Date: Mon, 2 Jan 2017 21:19:40 +0000 From: Douglas DD Subject: Aiden Chapter 23 Welcome back. Aiden learns how much he and others have to be thankful for at Thanksgiving. Please give to the Nifty Archive to show your thanks for the story site. CHAPTER 23 THANKSGIVING When Aiden's school bus arrived at school on Friday, Miles and Muddy were waiting for him at the bus stop. Gordon had texted him that he was sick with a sore throat and wouldn't be at school. Aiden didn't know where he would be going after school when he arrived—just before lunch he learned it would be at Miles's house. None of the boys talked about the sexual play between Aiden and Muddy as much as they might have wanted to. Miles and Aiden didn't talk about it at his house either. Aiden knew that his daddy would be picking up a half- hour or so after he got to Miles' house, so there wasn't going to be any time to play around, anyway. Aiden didn't want to be read to that night. When Phil asked him why he didn't want to be read to every night, he found the answer to be surprisingly mature for such a young boy. "Sometimes I'm just too tired and want to go to sleep and sometimes I want to think about things in the book before we read the next chapter. There's lots to think about, right?" "Yes, there is," Phil agreed. Aiden nodded and went on. "I want to think about Phillip and Timothy and why Phillip doesn't like black people. And I want to think about if they're going to be rescued." "You'd find out quicker if we read every night." "I know, but then I couldn't think about it." Phillip couldn't dispute Aiden's preteen logic. They read "The Cay" again the next night with Phil being the reader. Aiden heard him read about the rain that filled the catchment that Timothy had built. Phil got to where Timothy and Phillip discussed skin color after Phillip told him that his mother didn't like black people. When Timothy told Phillip that "b,neath the skin, all d'same," Phillip could see the sense in what Timothy saying. "I'm glad Phillip is liking Timothy no matter what his skin color is," Aiden said. "He likes Timothy because Timothy is his friend, and I like Timothy more than ever because he's a really cool person." That night Phillip had cuddled up to Old Timothy and smiled when he realized that Timothy felt neither white nor black. The next night, Aiden ended his nude reading sessions on the couch, but not right away. Larry was sitting on the couch reading a magazine and Phil was in his favorite recliner reading a mystery novel. Aiden lay naked on the loveseat, wondering why he was doing what he was doing. He almost wished his dads would forbid him from walking around the house naked, so he wouldn't have to make the decision. The night before they had played "Clue". The stereo played "A Kind of Blue", a Miles Davis album. Aiden had liked the mellow jazz—it was much different than Mozart, but had the same kind of soothing effect. Aiden played the game in the nude. He was not sure why he didn't want to be dressed and why he didn't want to snuggle with his dads. Mozart was now on the stereo. This time it was an album of his piano trios. The music of Mozart worked its way through Aiden's brain. He had always loved music that was loud and get him all worked up. Instead Mozart made him think of Phillip and Timothy and how they were friends. He thought of Phillip cuddling up to Timothy in the dark. Aiden wanted what Phillip had—to cuddle up with somebody who loved him and made him feel safe. He wondered if he was once again scared because his dads were gay and that was why he didn't want to cuddle. But then, why did he keep naked around them? He didn't know why he should be afraid. Larry and Phil did nothing but love him as dads. Maybe he should tell Dr. Kelly what he was thinking next time they talked, he thought, because he was all confused again. Mozart kept telling him what he wanted. He closed his eyes and felt the music inside of himself. The loud music he always liked never made him feel like this—it never made him think the way his books did. Mozart made him think. He thought about his daddy Larry kissing him on his forehead and telling him he had always been his friend. He thought about Phillip being mean because to Timothy because Timothy was black. He thought about how he was treating his dads because—well, he didn't know why, he just didn't treat them right, and now he was lonely. Aiden desperately wanted to feel the loving touch of one of his dads. He closed the book and padded out of the room to his bedroom. He pulled on his red and green briefs and a Mayfield Mustangs t-shirt. He returned to the multi-purpose room and picked up his book. He clambered onto the recliner, snuggled in next to his dad, enjoying the feel of Phil dad's arm as he wrapped it around his son's shoulder. Phil didn't ask about the boy's change of mind—he was learning that as far as Aiden's behavior was concerned, there were some things one simply didn't question. The two of them read and cuddled and listened to the beauty of Mozart—which made them think. Aiden didn't even get naked for bed, but stripped down to his orange and black briefs. Within minutes of being tucked in he took Horace down to his dads' bedroom and knocked. He soon was in bed between them. Mozart had worked his latest set of misgivings out of his mind, although he had been receptive to any kind of a nudge in that direction. Just like Timothy was doing things to help Phillip on the cay, his dads were doing things to help him in Mayfield. He cuddled close to Larry, who didn't feel like a teacher or an uncle or a friend or even a gay man—to Aiden, he felt like his daddy. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The weather on Saturday was surprisingly nice for a mid-November day. After straightening his bedroom and helping with the Saturday housekeeping chores, Aiden sat in his favorite recliner and read. "There are football games on, you know," Phil said as he walked into the multi-purpose room. "Not that I'm disappointed in you picking a book over watching television." "You can turn on football," Aiden said without looking up from the book. "But I want to read about baseball." Aiden was reading "Hothead" by Hall of Fame baseball player Cal Ripken Jr. "I can read with the TV on." Before a decision on what to do could be reached, Larry entered the room and suggested going outside and enjoy the rare sunny day. "We can work on soccer skills, baseball skills, both, or none of the above." "Baseball," Aiden said without hesitation. As much as he liked soccer, he was developing a love for baseball, no doubt fueled some by having a pair of baseball coaches as dads. "Then you'd better get dressed—it's a bit cold out for just a t-shirt and briefs," Phil chuckled. "You gotta change, too," Aiden told him. "Your pants are gonna make me throw wild." Aiden set his book on the "books being read shelf" which was on one of the built-in book shelves that were on either side of the fireplace mantle. He raced upstairs while Larry and Phil changed into their coaching togs. They spent well over an hour having Aiden take grounders from Larry and throw to Phil at first, working on judging short fly balls and popups, and receiving his first pitching lessons. The weather was cold and crisp, but the three of them were quite warm and very ready for lunch after their workout. Aiden's cheeks were red from the cold and the exertion and Phil couldn't help but think how beautifully healthy their son looked. They enjoyed thick, juicy hot dogs with chips for lunch. Just as they finished Larry saw the mail being delivered to their roadside mailbox. He put on his shoes and went out to pick up the mail. "Well," he grinned when he returned, "it appears somebody seems to be very important when it comes to mail." He had separated the junk mail from the important mail on the way in and dropped the junk into the recycling bin in the kitchen. Aiden watched Larry drop two letters in one pile and another letter in a second pile. All that was left in his hand was an 8.5"x11" manila envelope. Aiden's eyes lit up when he noticed Larry looking at him. "Is that for me?" he asked. "It depends," Larry said. "On what?" "Depends on if your name is Aiden Miller." Larry plopped the envelope down in front of the boy. His grin almost broke his face when he saw it was from Marty. Aiden reached to pick up the envelope when Phil told him to stop. "Why, it has my name on it?" Aiden protested. "Something is wrong here. We all have letters from Marty, but only yours is in a big envelope." "Daddy told you why," Aiden said as he finally grabbed the envelope. "He said I got the important mail." They opened up their mail. All three of them had an invitation to the wedding of Martin Carlson and Richard Jones, but Aiden had two more items, a pair of 8x10 pictures. Both of them were of Marty and both of them were game photos. One was of him batting, with the ball being driven off of his bat, and the other was him fielding a ball at third. Both of them had been autographed with a black Sharpie. Aiden's wide grin became even wider when he read, "To my bro, Aiden," along with the date above the signature. "These are so cool," Aiden bubbled. "They're both going on my corkboard. They are the best sports pictures ever." He smiled even wider when he saw what Marty had written on the bottom of the invitation. Larry and Phil admired the pictures of the young man on the cusp of becoming a professional baseball player. Larry remembered the slender twelve-year-old he coached in middle school and the teen he grew into— the All-State third baseman on a State Championship team. Phil remembered the troubled boy who was so desperate for proper male guidance and eventually battled his way out of the darkness of teenage alcoholism to become arguably the best athlete in Mayfield High School history. When his dads finished looking, Aiden carefully picked up his pictures and took them up to his room. He moved some pictures and a small poster to make room on his board for the new pictures. After pinning them to the board, he turned Horace so that the stuffed Donkey could admire Marty as well. Phil read on Sunday night as Timothy fashioned a cane for Phillip, who was becoming more independent. Even though he couldn't see, Phillip learned the layout of the cay and was soon able to walk all of the way around it. The week at school was a short one—only two days, Monday and Tuesday. Aiden had an appointment with Dr. Kelly on Monday and Larry picked him up right after school on Tuesday, so he didn't have time to hang out with his friends after school. The one good piece of news was that Miles, through his mother, had arranged for an overnight at his house on Friday. "We can gobble down leftover turkey," Miles giggled, pleased with his attempt at a pun. Muddy and Rusty were also invited. Gordon was invited as well, but he was going to be with his family having Thanksgiving in Phoenix at his grandparents' condo. "You're flying there on an airplane?" Aiden asked incredulously, as if nine- year-old boys weren't supposed to travel on airplanes, even with their parents. "Yep," he grinned. "I've flown on airplanes a lot." Gordon was still a year or two away from a smartass answer to his friend's obvious question. Larry took Aiden, along with Miles, Rusty, and Mudrak, to the athletic complex at Centralia. While Larry had met Mudrak, he hadn't had any dealings with him. He was impressed with the boy's solid, athletic build, as well as his friendliness and unfailing politeness. "Do you play baseball, Mudrak?" Larry asked as they drove along Highway 12 for Centralia. "I am a very good soccer player," Mudrak replied. "I never played baseball." After a moment's pause he said, "And you can call me Muddy." "Okay, Muddy. We'll see if we can start turning you into a baseball player." "That would be fun. Gordon and Miles say they are very good at baseball." "I am, too," Rusty pointed out. "You don't know that because I go to a Parkwood instead of Lakeview." This was the first time Rusty had really hung out with Muddy. The boys worked on hitting at the machines, fielding on the artificial turf in the small fieldhouse, and finished with work on soccer, which made Muddy very happy. Larry was pleased at the progress the Serbian boy had made in baseball, although he didn't pick it up as quickly as Aiden had at the start. Larry thought it might have been because Muddy knew nothing at all about baseball while Aiden had been a big baseball fan all of his life even if he'd never played the sport. Phil, who had to work, joined them for lunch at the Centerville Café, a small, but busy establishment, which was owned by Charlie, a gay friend he and Larry had known for a long time. He was a flamer who left no doubt about his sexual orientation. He joked around with the boys, who quickly took a liking to Charlie, especially when he brought out free ice cream sundaes for dessert. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ On Thanksgiving morning, Aiden was bouncing around the house in anticipation. He was wearing his slacks along with a long-sleeved blue and white striped button-down shirt. After he asked for what seemed like the one-hundredth time when they were leaving for Thanksgiving dinner, Larry finally went to work to calm the hyper boy down. "Aiden, we haven't even had breakfast yet. So, instead of running around trying to find a way to get dirt, food, or who knows what on your good clothes, how about going up to your room, taking off your shirt, pants, and shoes, and putting everything neatly on your bed. Then you can run around in your underwear and it will seem more like a normal day." "But, it's not a normal day," Aiden protested. "It's Thanksgiving." "You've never seen Thanksgiving before?" "Not one with Marty there. Plus, Sammy and the Hurricane will be there. And Rich. And tons of good food. Mom always bought a dinner that was already made and my last Thanksgiving we went to a restaurant. This is like a real Thanksgiving." "I understand," Larry said, "but get undressed and we'll get out the cereal and milk." "We're having just cereal on Thanksgiving?" Aiden asked as if the idea was sacrilege. "Eat light for breakfast and that gives you more space to stuff in more Thanksgiving dinner." Aiden looked up at his daddy giving some thought to what he had to say. "Sounds good," he finally said. "Be right back." He raced off for his room. Phil was working hard to suppress his laughter. "I can't believe you actually encouraged him to come back to eat in his underwear." "He needed something that was familiar." "At least you didn't tell him to come to breakfast in the nude." "Like I said, he needed something familiar, not to mention that there are limits." Aiden returned clad in a blue Seattle Mariners t-shirt and his green, blue, and white Seahawks briefs. He thought the briefs were the exact right ones for the day, even if nobody saw them. They would be even better if somebody actually did see them. While Aiden was still bouncy during breakfast, it wasn't to the extremes of earlier in the morning. After they ate and cleaned up the kitchen, Phil suggested they pass the time by playing a game. Aiden suggested Monopoly and proceeded to kick ass as he played his dads into bankruptcy. After that, the TV came on for football, and Aiden cuddled up to his daddy on the sofa. "I thought you owned the recliner," Larry said as he placed his arm around his son's shoulder. "I thought I'd let dad have it today since it's Thanksgiving." "That is very sweet of you," Phil told him from the recliner. "And I haven't cuddled with daddy for a long time." Larry gave Aiden a grin and an extra squeeze. At twelve-thirty Larry told Aiden that it was a good time to get dressed so they could be at the Bednarzyk residence by one. Aiden was off of the sofa and out of the room at near light speed. He came back wearing his good clothes and carrying a large, gray stuffed animal. Larry straightened Aiden's shirt and belt to give him a sharper look. Phil then took Aiden to the bathroom off of the master bedroom and did his best to comb the boy's perpetually tangled hair. "If anybody ever needed his hair cut short, it's you," Phil said as he finally managed to get Aiden's hair looking presentable. "No short hair," Aiden insisted. "But a haircut is in order." "Maybe," Aiden said as he left the room. Sammy answered the door when they arrived at the Bednarzyk's. He was as nattily dressed as Aiden. The twelve-year-old couldn't help admire the looks of the little nine-year-old, although he had to wonder as to why he brought his stuffed donkey. The admiration was mutual as Aiden thought that Sammy looked really good in his dress clothes. He also couldn't help but think of watching Sammy sitting naked on the pool ledge jerking himself off. Sammy led them to the living room, where his brother Jeffrey was sitting. Their parents, George and Lois Bednarzyk, entered the room and greetings were exchanged. Jeffrey signaled Aiden to sit next to him on the large overstuffed chair. "Did you know you brought your donkey?" Sammy asked as Aiden sat next to Jeffrey, who took Horace and placed him on the back of the couch. "It's big, so it would be hard to not know," Aiden answered. "Okay, but why?" "Ask Marty." Aiden looked around the room as if to see if anything had changed in the last couple of minutes. "Where is Marty?" "He and Rich should be here any minute. They're coming with Rich's parents," Jeffrey informed him. "I thought Marty lived in the extra house." "He does, but they all went out for breakfast." "Daddy says that if you eat light for breakfast you got room to stuff yourself for dinner." "Trust me, kid, Marty has never had trouble stuffing himself with food," Jeffrey laughed. "But, what does Marty have to do with your donkey?" "Everything," came Marty's voice from the entryway to the room. He was toting a well-worn brown teddy bear. Coming in with him were Rich, Rich's brother Mikey, and Rich's parents. "Marty!" Aiden yelled as he jumped off of the sofa and wrapped his arms around the big athlete. "Hey, bro," Marty grinned as he ruffled the nine-year-old's hair with his left hand, negating the work that Phil had put into it. Aiden reached for Marty's right hand, which was clutching the teddy bear. "Is this Mortimer?" Aiden asked as he stroked the bear's head. "It is indeed." "Geez, Marty, how come you brought that bear?" Sammy asked with derision. "You're going to be a pro baseball player pretty soon—what do you need to have a stupid teddy bear for? It's bad enough Aiden brought his donkey—I mean he's nine, which kinda old for that, which means you're really old for that." Marty looked at Sammy with a bemused smile. For a while he'd been wondering how it was that Jeffrey, the volatile brother, had become the calm and reasonable adolescent, while Sammy, who had been so calm and quiet as a prepubescent boy had become the brother with an attitude. "Sammy, there is a saying that I have seen in more than one place. It goes like this: Just because I'm growing older doesn't mean I have to grow up." Marty placed his free arm around Aiden's shoulder, turning him around so they were both facing Sammy. He maintained his smile throughout the maneuver while Sammy gave him the smug look of a young adolescent who was beginning to believe he actually did know everything. Just as Sammy started to open his mouth to say something impertinent, Marty cut him off—only now he wasn't smiling. He gave the twelve-year-old a look that said, "I'm going to do the talking so you had better keep your fucking mouth shut or you're going to be sorry as shit." "Today happens to be Thanksgiving..." While Sammy knew what Marty's look said, he was willing to dare him to follow through. "What does that have to do with stuffed..." "Just shut the fuck up and listen." Marty addressed him in a tone of voice that told Sammy he'd just stepped over the line. Marty bent down and whispered something to Aiden, who freed himself from Marty's hug and walked over to the sofa. "Here is what Thanksgiving has to do with a stuffed animal." He held up Mortimer, making sure that Sammy was looking right at the teddy bear. "I am thankful that this stuffed animal is in my life, because he saved my life more than once. He was there for me when I was twelve when a lot of people weren't. He was there for me when I was lonely, when I was confused, when I was hungover, when I didn't even know if I wanted to live anymore. "That is my Mortimer is here because this little creature who can't move, can't talk, can't think, could still love me and accept my love. Here is here so I can thank him and so he can meet somebody just like him." He glanced at Aiden, who sensed what it was Marty wanted. Aiden picked up Horace and hugged him against his chest. The voice was no longer the young baritone of Marty—it was the little boy soprano of Aiden, but it said the same thing. "Horace is here because he's been my friend and I've loved him since I was little and he made me happy when I was sad. Now I get to tell Horace thank you." He took three steps over to Marty and placed Horace in the young man's free hand. Marty smiled and introduced Horace to Mortimer. "Let's put them in the dining room so they can watch us eat and give thanks," he said. Sammy was certain he was witnessing one of the stupidest things he'd ever seen, but he was smart enough keep his mouth shut. "Now, how about we play Uno until dinner," Marty suggested, his demeanor helping to melt the tension in the room. Marty led them to the sunroom where the parents had congregated. Rich got the deck of Uno cards from the desk. Phil, Larry, George, Lois, along with Rich's mother and father watched them enter. "We should trade rooms," Marty suggested to the six parents in the room, "since this one has the game table." The parents were agreeable and the switch was executed quickly. "Where's Jeffrey?" Aiden asked. "He'll be right with us. I have a pretty good idea where he has gone," Marty said. At that moment Jeffrey came into the room carrying a teddy bear and sporting a grin. "Teddy might as well join the crowd. I am thankful that I still have Teddy the Freddy bear," he said. He proceeded to the dining room to place his bear next to Mortimer and Horace. "Shit," Sammy mumbled under his breath. When he saw Marty's glare, he was ready to stomp out of the room. Two factors kept him in his seat. One was his respect for and fear of Marty. The other was the fact that he was a good kid who lived in a loving family and as much as he wanted to play the role of the misunderstood adolescent, he was able to come to his senses and not spoil Thanksgiving. He took a deep breath and was ready to play when his brother returned. Despite its inauspicious start, the dinner was a huge success. A prayer of thanks was shared and everyone shared some things they had to be thankful for. The food was great, the fellowship was positive, and Sammy maintained an even keel, saying how he was thankful for his family and for Marty and for Susan Fielding, which brought a chuckle from the group. Aiden took a deep breath when it was his turn to tell something he was thankful for. "I am thankful I got two dads who love me, and I have my best friends ever, and I am thankful I know Marty, and for having Horace the donkey, and...," he looked at Lois, "...for the awesome food." Phil and Larry were pleased to see Mikey. He'd been battling drug and alcohol issues and was recently released from drug and alcohol rehabilitation. They knew Marty had worked hard with him on becoming sober and hoped that this time sobriety would take hold. The big topic of conversation during dinner was the upcoming wedding between Rich and Marty. The Reverend Quinn Baxter was going to perform the ceremony. He had also administered the wedding of Phil and Larry. Quinn an old friend of theirs—he'd known them since elementary and middle school days. He was gay and married to a childhood lover. Rich's father was going to give him away, and Mikey would be his best man. George Bednarzyk was going to give away Marty while Eric Simmons, one of Marty's best friends in high school was slated to be his best man. Eric's partner, Noah was going to be the groomsman, while Sammy and Jeffery were going to be ushers. "You're sure your father is okay with me giving you away?" George asked, not for the first time. "We've talked about it and he understands." Before Marty's father became sober he was mentally abusive, and occasionally physically abusive to Marty. He kicked Marty out when, as a freshman in high school, Marty came out to him. It wasn't until after Marty left for college that they buried their resentments. After dinner and dessert there was more socializing before the Thanksgiving gathering came to a close. Aiden sat with Sammy in the sunroom and told him that he would be spending the night away from home for the first time on Friday at his friend Miles' house. "Who are you gonna sleep with?" Sammy asked. "I dunno. Miles, I guess." "You better take your sleeping bag with you." Aiden's face fell. "I don't have a sleeping bag." "Then you better have blankets and a pillow." "I'll talk to my dads about it. They know all about overnights." "They must have forgot some of it," Sammy noted. "I like to sleep overnight with my friends, but I can't stay overnight with the one I really want to stay with." "I know who that is," Jeffrey said as he sat next to the two boys. "Who?" Aiden asked. "Susan Fielding." "A girl?" "Don't know any boys named Sue," Sammy said. "I don't know why we can't do an overnight. She doesn't want to fuck so it's not like something bad can happen." "Like you're going to stay friends with a girl who won't fuck," Jeffrey said, needling his little brother. Aiden's little cock was hard. He wished he was with his friends so he could say, "Nailed," and show it off. "So? We've done a couple of intense sixty-nines," Sammy bragged. "Sixty-nine?" Aiden asked. "Um...it's something you'll learn about when you get older," Jeffrey told him. "I could tell him right now. Shit, we could go up to my room and I could show him." Having already gotten a lecture from Coach Sanders after the skinny dipping session, Jeffrey wasn't about to push his luck in farther. "I don't think so," he told his brother. What he really wanted was to go with Sammy and Aiden to Sammy's room and watch the lesson. "Is a sixty-nine about sex?" Aiden asked. "Yes," Jeffrey snapped. He was rock hard and was thinking of how Aiden and Sammy could give him release. "I want to learn about it," Aiden pleaded. Before the give and take could go any further, Marty, Rich, and Mikey walked into the sunroom. Marty couldn't fail to note the bulges in the slacks of Jeffrey and Sammy and wondered what aspect of sex the conversation had covered. He could not tell the state of Aiden's little boy tool which was hidden by the folds of his slacks. He could feel himself stirring, even though he wasn't sure that things sexual were appropriate topics for his little "bro." "Time for us to go," Marty said. "Do we still have a date on Saturday?" he asked Aiden. "Yep." "A date? You're dating a nine-year-old boy?" Sammy asked incredulously. "It's a figure of speech," Marty replied. "We're going out for burgers and a shake and some serious conversation." "And probably some kissing and making out after." "Sammy!" Marty said forcefully. "Sheesh. I remember when you used to be fun." "Don't forget to take Mortimer home," Aiden told Marty. "How about you take him so he and Horace can spend a couple of nights together and get to know each other." "Cool," Aiden grinned. "Just make sure he's warm and comfortable." "No worries. He'll be right next to Horace." Just minutes after Marty left Larry told Aiden it was time for them to go. As they headed for the front door, Sammy took Aiden aside for a moment. "Find out if your friends know about sixty-nine when you see them tomorrow." "My cousin Chase might know, too," Aiden speculated. "Chase is really sexy hot for a boy." Aiden shrugged. He had no idea what Sammy meant by that, so he said good-bye to Sammy, thanked George and Lois, and followed his dads to the car. As they pulled away from the Bednarzyk residence, Phil bemoaned their fate. "The problem with eating out is no leftovers for turkey sandwiches." "Let's see, we had Rich, Mikey, Marty, Jeffrey, and Sammy in early to late adolescence—they more than took care of anybody having leftovers," Larry chuckled. "Hey, I ate a lot too," Aiden pointed out. "That you did, son." On the drive home he told Larry and Phil his sleeping bag problem. Phil looked over at Larry, who was driving. "You mean you didn't think of that?" "I thought you were thinking of it," Larry replied. "How come you guys did all those overnights when you were little and forgot about getting me a sleeping bag?" Aiden asked. "Well, it's kind of like this son, things were kind of, well, they were different for us," Phil stammered. "What your dad is saying," Larry explained, "is that we never needed sleeping bags very often." "You mean you slept in the same bed?" "Well, we were boyfriends." "No, I mean with the rest of your friends?" "Well...yeah, usually we did," Phil confessed. "Cool." Larry turned into the driveway. "We'll get you a nice, warm sleeping bag at Ben's Hardware tomorrow," he said. Ben's Hardware and Hunting Supplies was situated in the small downtown area of Mayfield. "I should take a pillow, too." "It will be taken care of." Larry parked the car in the garage. Aiden picked up the two stuffed animals sharing the backseat with him and followed his dads into the main part of the house. He thought about asking them what a sixty-nine was; after all, they said he could ask them everything. But he had a feeling that they weren't prepared to talk about sixty-nines. That night Larry and Phil both tucked Aiden in. "Thanks for letting me be your son," he told them as Phil pulled the sheet over his bare chest. "We love you," Larry told him. "We are thankful that you're in our lives, and thankful that you're a really great kid." "I am?" "You are a great kid," Phil echoed. Aiden flashed his signature wide grin. "No reading tonight." "Okay," Phil agreed. He and Larry had both learned not to argue about the nightly reading time. After his dads left, Aiden turned his desk light on. He looked Horace and Mortimer sitting side-by-side on the shelf above his desk, their eyes fixed on the corkboard with its two pictures of Marty, the WSU Cougar, playing baseball. He opened the desk drawer, took his bottle of lotion out, and pulled back his covers. He lubed his cocklet and jerked himself off to a satisfactory climax thinking of Sammy masturbating at the edge of the swimming pool. He wondered if that had anything to do with the number sixty-nine. He turned off his light and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Next: Muddy and Marty.