unbroken_halo (unbroken_halo) wrote in stirs_of_echo, @ 2010-06-25 16:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | damon, damon/grant, fics, grant, john, john/marion, marion |
Fic: Paint It Black
Title: Paint It Black
Authors: sevs_lil_secret and unbroken_halo
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling. No money was made writing this bit of fiction.
Pairing: Damon/Grant, Marion/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set Spring of 1968, Damon is discharged from the Marine Corps with a second Purple Heart from injuries in the line of duty. Grant is still living as Gracie much of the time to fit into the societal norms of the day. As they try to settle into a normal life, things go from bad to worse.
Warnings: Spousal abuse, drug use and addiction, language, BDSM, bondage, violence
AN: This story deals with serious spousal abuse and drug addiction. If the reader is bothered by these subjects, then we advise them not to read this piece. Once again, we'd like to remind our readers of the time and era that this story takes place as well as the demographics. Home correction was not only tolerated, but it was expected.
Special thanks to accioslash for the read through and beta for this piece.
Damon looked at his pack setting on the bed. He’d not let Gracie unpack his things when he’d finally been released from the hospital. He was finally home for good after his service for twenty-five years to God, country and the Marine Corps.
Three wars, two purple hearts and all he had to show for that was packed into this one bag. He bent and unclipped the seabag and turned it over dumping out the contents. Old BDUs, his second dress uniform, heavy boots and medals went crashing to the bed and floor. He sat down and began digging inside his boots for a pair of socks.
Unrolling the OD green woolen socks rewarded him with a special treat. In addition to the pain medicines he had received from the military hospital, he had brought home another souvenir. He sat back and carefully unrolled the bag looking at the reddish green mass of leaves.
He carefully opened the bag and pulled out one of the plump, dried buds. Setting the bag on the floor, he also pulled out the small pack of papers. Freeing one of the thin papers, he set it down then carefully began to crumble the bud, palming the seeds for later use.
Once the leaves had been carefully picked over, stems and seeds removed, Damon placed the seeds back in the baggie and rolled it back up. He picked up the half-made cigarette and folded the paper over, smoothing it together into a joint then carefully licking it shut.
He ran the joint under his nose inhaling the scent then stuck it in his mouth. Lighting the doobie, he leaned back against the chest of drawers, inhaling the sweetly scented smoke. Closing his eyes, he let the drug take his pain and lost himself in its mellow embrace.
Gracie hurried up the staircase, books in one arm, groceries in the other as she came home from her last class of the day. Excited about the fact her husband was home and was going to be staying home, Gracie had wanted to skip classes for the week, but Damon would have none of that. Now she had the makings of a nice meal for them and no homework.
Gracie fumbled the lock open and was hit with the sickly sweet smell of burnt… something. “Damon? Are you home?” she called out, wrinkling her nose as she made her way to the tiny kitchen and put everything away. She sniffed and shook her head as she reached over to open the window.
“Damon? I’m home. Did you burn something in the kitchen?” she asked as she found him in the bedroom.
Blearily Damon opened his eyes and tried to focus on Gracie. “ Hello, Pet.” He licked his lips repeatedly and shook his head. Smiling he sat up from where he had lain on the floor. Blinking lazily he sighed. “How was your day at school?”
Gracie smiled at her husband, figuring he’d taken something for his pain from the way he was acting. “It was alright. It’s hot though, so I can’t wait to change out of these clothes,” she said as she reached around behind her back to snag the zipper on her minidress. Gracie shrugged it down and stepped out of the lemon yellow polyester dress, picking it up to toss in the hamper.
“I got some chicken for supper if you’d like that,” she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed to undo her stockings and garter belt. “I just want to put on a pair of shorts and a tank top.” It was getting warmer out since it was late May and Gracie loved her shorts.
Damon watched with a sort of detached fashion, still licking his lips. The only bad side effect to marijuana. Fucking cottonmouth. He crawled over to the bed and helped himself up, eyeing Gracie. “Food’s nice but you are looking better.”
Gracie leaned back and smiled at Damon. “You think?” she teased as she rested on her elbows. “I’m glad you approve. Can I get anything for you?”
Damon’s eyes ran over Gracie and he tried to swallow. “Something to drink would be nice.” He leaned his head down on her leg, stroking the tanned skin with his fingertips. He nuzzled her knee then licked across her thigh, nipping at the skin.
Gracie sucked in her breath and shuddered as she was nibbled on. Not wanting to get up, she sat back up and retrieved her wand to summon Damon a glass of tea. Catching it in her hand, she ran the cold, wet glass down over her breast and nipple before giving it to her husband. “I hope tea is alright,” she smiled.
Damon nodded and took a long swallow of the glass drinking it all in one go. The ice clinked in the glass as he sat it on the floor. Picking up one cube, Damon pushed Gracie back on the bed and placed the ice in her belly button. He leaned over her, sucking on the ice and skin, swallowing as the melt ran down Gracie’s stomach.
Making small, quiet noises, Gracie squirmed under Damon’s mouth, her little cock hardening almost instantly and straining at the confines of her panties. It had been four long years since Damon had touched her. “Please,” she whispered as Damon’s tongue dipped deeper into her belly button. She ran one of her hands down her body and slipped under the waistband of her panties.
Damon slid his hand up her body, gently cupping her breast, running his fingertips over the firming nipple. He flicked it then pinched the flesh as he lifted his head to look at her. He took in the picture she made and decided to enhance the experience. “Just a moment.”
He slid off her and picked up the glass ashtray, fishing the leftover roach out of the shallow dish.
Damon carefully bit into the small joint and raised his lighter to his lips. The zippo flame danced in his exhaled breaths and he tried to start up the smoke once again. He sucked on the roach, the tip flared to life and he snapped the lighter shut. He pinched the bud and pulled it from his lips.
He licked the resin off his mouth and smiled at Gracie. “I want to try this.”
He took a deep drag then sucked in a breath. He leaned over Gracie, opened his mouth and wrapped it around her lips and nose. He blew steadily, eyes glazed and dazed, searching hers.
Gracie’s eyes were huge as her mouth and nose were covered, frantic, she tried to push him away, whimpering when he caught both of her wrists in one hand and held her still. Looking into his blue eyes, she sucked in the acrid smoke he was blowing into her mouth and nose. Rolling away finally, she gave into a few choking coughs before she turned back to him.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded as she made a face at the taste in her mouth.
Damon grinned. “Pot. Take a deep breath.” He took another drag of the roach, burning his fingers in the process. Grabbing her again, he gave her another shotgun, this time adding a kiss and moaning at the taste of the resin on her mouth.
Gracie struggled, coughing and hacking as Damon turned her loose. “That is nasty,” she muttered as she sat up and looked down at her husband. “Where did it come from?”
Damon laughed at her and leaned back, running a hand up and over her chest, playing with the soft skin. “A plant.”
Gracie just looked at him, the urge to get something to drink overwhelming until she went to the kitchen for a glass of tea. As she came back, she noticed things were a bit fuzzy and bright all at the same time.
“Damon,” she said as she sat back down on the bed and looked around. “Did you just get me stoned?”
Damon looked over at her and grinned. “Yeah. ‘S great isn’t it?” He sighed and pulled her down on top of him. “Takes away all the pain and mellows things out.” He ran his hands over her body, bringing her face down to kiss her softly.
“Takes away your pain?” Gracie asked softly as she stroked her man’s broad chest. She worried about how badly he was hurting, knowing about how poorly run the military hospitals were.
Damon smiled and nodded. “Yeah, makes it all go away. Desensitizes and removes you from yourself.” He turned his head and met her eyes. “You feel it?”
Gracie shook her head slightly, not sure if she liked this feeling. “I feel something Damon,” she said as she laid back down next to him, pressing her body next to his. “Do you feel better?”
“That’s just it. I don’t feel at all.” Damon rolled over and wrapped an arm around Gracie. “So soft.” He rubbed up against her and bent his head, kissing her shoulder then nipped along her collarbone. He placed kisses down to her chest. “It hides the memories, the sights and sounds of the jungle and the camps, the gunfire and the screaming of the dying.”
Gracie nodded as she wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss his hands and shoulders. She’d not say anything about it if it helped him. Working her way along his chest, she nipped and nibbled at his muscles, lightly scratching at his back with her nails.
“Do you think I can help you to forget too?” she murmured as she was rolled under him, her slender hips pushing up against his hard thigh.
Damon nodded and captured Gracie's mouth. “So sweet. I’m home now for good baby.” He ran his hands up through her loose hair and smiled. “I missed this.”
Gracie spread her legs, wiggling her panties down as Damon moved over her. “I’ve missed it too. Missed having you beside me in bed, missed your weight on top of me like this,” she sighed happily as she closed her eyes and offered herself up to him.
Damon hummed and slid down the slender body, licking and tasting the salt from her skin. He knocked over the glass, reaching for an ice cube. His fingers clumsily grasped it, sliding it across her chest and stomach before following the icy trail with his tongue.
Gracie reached between their bodies and wrapped her small hand around his thick cock, squeezing and stroking it, becoming more impatient as he toyed with her. “How do you want me Damon?” she purred, moving her hand over the tip of his cock, teasing the foreskin and sensitive glans.
Damon groaned, pulling away from Gracie’s small hand. He gathered her legs up and then leaned forward, sliding into her slowly as he kissed her. “Like that. Hot, tight and wet for me.” He licked over her shoulder again, tasting the salt on her skin.
He held her to him, not moving and orgasmed, collapsing on top of her, panting.
Gracie whimpered as he thrust into her, bringing her hips up to meet his. “Please Damon, please make me feel good. It’s been so long,” she begged as he lay motionless on top of her.
Damon groaned and looked up at Gracie. He pushed back the dark hair and searched her face. “Grant?” He licked his lips and pulled away from her. Almost as an afterthought he ran his hand down Gracie’s body and grasped the little cock.
He leaned down taking the firm flesh into his mouth and sucked. Licking and humming he moved over Gracie’s prick. His other hand dropped looking for the ice. Grasping a cube, he pulled off of Gracie and popped the piece in his mouth before descending on the little prick once more.
Gracie pulled the amulet over her head and shuddered as she became Grant once more for Damon. He looked down at the man, running his hands over Damon’s burr cut. “Damon… oh Merlin,” he panted as he spilled quickly into the man’s mouth.
Damon swallowed, licking and cleaning up what he had spilled then laid down beside Grant. He gathered the other man up to him, tucking Grant’s head under his chin. “I’m home, Pet.” He said softly closing his eyes and rubbing Grant’s back.
@@@@@@
Four months later found Gracie back in school and Damon beginning work on his childhood home that they’d just undertaken the job of renovating and restoring.
Letting herself into the small apartment, she set her books down on the kitchen table and sighed as she looked at the full sink of dishes. She didn’t hear Damon moving around and figured he was out at the farmhouse. Gracie tied on an apron over her dress and began to clean up, moving from room to room picking things up. In the bedroom, the cloying smell of pot nearly knocked her over and she found her husband lying in their bed watching television.
“I’m home Damon.”
Bloodshot eyes turned and gazed at Gracie. Damon grunted and looked back at the TV. “I think we need to have the house condemned. I fell though the fucking floor into the basement today. Courtney had to pull me out.”
He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the joint in the glass dish. “Da is coming by tomorrow to help me replace the fucking floor but I’m not certain it’s worth it.” He lit the joint and inhaled, holding the roach out to Gracie. “Come have some fun with me baby.”
Gracie shook her head and came to sit next to him. “Are you alright?” she asked as she gently pushed Damon’s hand away. She couldn’t afford to get stoned daily or even every weekend. Her grades had been suffering as a result of the daily imbibing with Damon.
Damon frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “More for me.” He pulled on the roach, inhaling the weed and swallowing back the smoke. “I’ll live, I always do.” He crushed out the small bit, making certain it was out then swallowed the last bit of the roach.
Gracie watched him, a tight smile on her face. “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat now or in awhile?” she asked as she stood and began picking up the empty Budwieser cans that were littered over their bed. “I’m glad you are alright.”
Damon shook his head and chuckled as he leaned back against the bedstead. “I’ll have the munchies later. Right now I have a bad case of cottonmouth.” He licked his lips. He closed his eyes savouring the buzz and pleasant feeling that settled over him.
“Would you like a glass of tea?” Gracie asked as she stood in the doorway and watched Damon, wondering if he would ever be sober again.
Damon nodded and yawned. He scooted down in the bed and hugged his arms to his chest. “My back hurts.” He said softly as he looked up at Gracie. “I love you, Pet.”
Gracie looked down for a moment, ashamed of the thoughts she’d just had. Her man had been injured protecting her freedom, who was she to complain about what he did?
“I’ll fetch you a tea. Would you like me to rub your back or do you want the hot water bottle?” she asked as she sent the cans to the trash can with a flick of her wand. Gracie followed along to the kitchen, pouring him a large glass of tea and bringing it back into the bedroom. “I’m going to open the windows and air the place out, alright?”
Gracie began to open the windows in their apartment, letting in fresh air to chase out the stale smell of pot. She was starting to get looks from classmates that sat close to her and one man had asked her if she had a good hookup for the drug.
Damon grunted and closed his eyes, curling in on himself as he listened to Gracie putter in the kitchen. At this moment in time he could care less if the whole fucking house came down around his ears. His medicine from the hospital was almost gone and his small stash of marijuana was running out.
It was taking too long for his plants to grow and the street stuff wasn’t nearly as effective as the original he had brought home from overseas. Groaning, he got up and crept over to the closet.
Carefully opening the door, he shaded his eyes from the bright red light and knelt to peer at his little plants. Several pots of tiny pot plants were lining the bottom of the closet. He misted the plants with a sprayer and turned the lamp away so as not to burn the tender leaves.
Damon smiled and blinked his eyes as he closed the door. With a wave of his hand the concealment charm went back up and crawled back into bed. Thoughts of the property that came with the homestead filled him as he drifted off.
@@@@@@@
Gracie walked into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her after getting out of the shower. “Damon, honey, are you awake?” she asked as she dropped the towel and looked at herself in the mirror. With a sigh, she pulled the amulet from over her head and smiled as his natural body came to the surface. “Do you want me to dress as Grace or me to go to your parents?”
Damon groaned and rolled over in the bed. He stretched and reached out for his cigarettes. He eyed Grant and smirked. “Like that although I been noticing those dresses you’ve been wearing.” He sat up in bed, the smoke curling about his disheveled hair like a halo.
Rubbing his face he pulled Grant to him and nuzzled the man’s neck. “Merlin you smell good.”
Grant pulled back and looked at Damon for a moment. “What about my clothes? Is there something wrong with how I dress?” he asked as he stared at his husband.
Looking back at the man for a moment, Grant turned and pulled out a pair of boxers from the dresser and slid them on before grabbing an undershirt. “Well?”
Damon narrowed his eyes at Grant. “Your fucking ass nearly hangs out. The skirts are almost too short and I saw several of those frat boys you carpool with staring.”
Grant rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So? Let them look. They know that I’m married and not interested. And my dresses are just like everyone else’s thank you very much,” he snapped as he pulled on a pair of linen slacks and found a dress shirt he’d bought ages ago in the closet hanging above Damon’s little plant hobby.
Damon crawled from the bed and grabbed Grant by the back of his neck. “Because I said so and the next time one of those little boys shows up asking for Gracie I may just have to set him straight.” He growled and let go of Grant’s neck and stalked into the bathroom.
Angry, Grant followed right behind him. “And just exactly what the hell does that mean Damon? Are you jealous because someone else might actually think I look better than a fucking pot plant?” he snarled as he grabbed the hairbrush and turned to go.
Damon turned and back handed Grant right across his mouth. “You are mine and don’t you ever forget it. What I do is none of your business.” He leaned over the sink and looked in the mirror, checking the stubble on his face and deciding that maybe it wasn’t too bad.
Grant held his hand to his mouth, bringing his fingers up to his eyes, sighing as he saw the smear of blood. “Whatever Damon. You should take a shower before we leave. You’ve not bathed in a week,” he muttered as he turned back to the door.
Damon reached out, grabbed a handful of wet hair and pulled Grant back into the bathroom. “It’s been too damn long since you’ve been reminded of your place.” He growled. “I’ve let a lot of things go since I’ve been home but apparently that’s not good enough for you. So we are going to remedy that right now.”
He slapped Grant again and forced him to his knees. Staring down at his husband he crooked his head. “Now, what was that again?”
Defiantely, Grant glared up at the other man. “You are being an asshole, Damon. Take a shower and shave so we can go to your parents and we can pretend to be happy for a little while.”
Damon’s fingers tightened in Grant’s hair and he jerked his head to the side. He bent and met the man’s eyes. “Wrong answer, Injun.” He reared back and kicked Grant in the stomach. “If you are so goddamned unhappy then you know where the fucking door is. I don’t see you walking out it. You just keep running your mouth.”
Grant doubled over retching on the bathroom floor, one hand held up to ward off any more blows. He refused to beg, refused to let Damon scare him anymore. “Fine,” he mumbled as he started to get up.
“You don’t ever learn do you?!” Damon jerked him back to the floor. “I told you. You are mine. You can only leave when I let you.” He bent and got right in Grant’s face. “You wanted me Injun and now you got me, lock, stock and barrel.”
Grant looked at him, his own eyes filled with tears as he searched his husband’s face. “Do you even love me anymore?” he whispered.
Damon glared at Grant. “What do you think, Grant or should I say Gracie? You are never around anymore for me to tell either one, now are you? I know your schooling is important but then you are studying or going out to some function or other. You haven’t even been by our house Grant.” He looked at the floor. “I have always loved you. You’ve just been too busy losing yourself to see it.”
“I’ve been by the house Damon, do you know what I find? You and Courtney passed out in a sea of beer cans,” Grant cried out in frustration. “I’m in school so I can be someone for you. Someone you aren’t ashamed of.” He put his hands on Damon’s and squeezed them tightly. “I’ve never stopped believing in you, Damon, never stopped loving you, but you don’t seem to need me anymore.”
Damon jerked his hands away. “You don’t understand.” He shouted as he stormed out of the bathroom. He searched through the items on top of the dresser, knocking bottles to the floor. His cigarette pack was empty and he crumpled it, tossing it away as he pawed through the ashtray looking for a joint.
Finding a roach, he lit it and inhaled trying to calm down.
“You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t understand what is going on anymore Damon,” Grant muttered as he wiped his face clean and refused to look at his husband. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, he simply couldn’t make Damon happy anymore.
Damon smoked quietly as he watched Grant. All too soon the joint was nothing but paper and Damon swallowed it down just to get the resin left on the tissue. “If you can’t see it then I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
He slid down the wall and picked up the bottles of medicine, looking for more pain killers, something, anything to drown out his pain and nightmares. His own inadequacies of watching Grant walk out the door every morning to a new and better life while he floundered in what his had become.
Forty years old and his life was over. Never again would he be called to serve his country. Doing something that he'd been doing for more than half his life. He looked up at his younger, educated husband and shook his head once more. “I’m done, Grant.”
Grant turned to look at where Damon was huddled on the floor, a frown crossing over his tanned features. “What do you mean, Damon?” he asked as he crossed over and squatted down next to him. “Are you done with the pot or done with me?”
Damon searched Grant’s face. He reached up and ran a hand down Grant’s cheek and shook his head. “Neither one. Let’s just go to Da’s and get it done with.”
Grant sighed and stood back up again. “I’ll lay some clothes out for you, alright?” he said as he opened the closet door. He paused for a long moment, looking down, it took every ounce of self restraint to not stomp the plants Damon had growing. The plants that were ruining their lives.
Damon nodded and crawled into the bathroom to shower and shave. He really didn’t want to face his parents but appearances must be kept. After all his Da was a Marine and once a Marine always a Marine.
He pulled himself up and turned on the taps as he began to strip off what little clothing he’d had on. Runnning a hand over his face he decided to shave first.
He turned and dragged himself up off of the floor and stared blearily into the mirror. Cursing, he decided against shaving and stumbled to the shower instead.
Dressed and ready, Grant finished covering the casserole he’d made to take over to Damon’s parents. He listened as Damon crashed around the bathroom and wondered if his husband didn’t need a hand.
Grant knew Damon had been seriously injured in the crash, but now he didn’t know how much of Damon’s pain was real and how much was imagined. He couldn’t get the man to go to the VA or to see the local doctor, choosing instead to self-medicate.
Grant was waiting when Damon came out of the bathroom, the man’s shirt in his hands so he could help his husband get ready.
Damon stared at Grant and shook his head. “Going to lecture me some more?” He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed as he dried off his legs and pulled on his socks. He leaned way over the bed and slid his jeans on.
Standing, he adjusted himself and zipped up the denims. He smoothed them down his legs and stumbled, grabbing onto the dresser. He glared at Grant, daring him to say something.
Dark eyes watched silently as Grant stepped forward with Damon’s shirt. He didn’t mention the man’s stumbling, not certain if it was due to injury or sobriety.
“I think this shirt will still fit you,” Grant said as he held open the dark navy dress shirt. “I always loved this one on you.”
Damon grunted and took a steadying breath. He walked over to his husband and looked down at him and he slid one arm into the shirt. “What time do we have to be there?”
“Your mom said to try to be there by four if we could. It’s just past noon now, so we should go before long,” Grant said as he smiled at the man in front of him. “So handsome. This shirt brings out your eyes so well.”
Damon searched Grant’s face. “Injun…” He shook his head and bent down, pressing his lips to Grant’s and sighing. Slowly, he pulled away and nodded. “We’ll go as soon as I get my boots on.” He sat down on the bed once again, buttoning his shirt. He leaned back on the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and stuffing the shirt down the front of his pants.
Grant retrieved Damon’s boots, sitting down on the chair next to their bed. “I just need to buff them really quick,” he said softly as he pulled out a soft cotton diaper and began the final detailing of the shoes. “Would you like me to drive if your back is bothering you?”
He knelt down on the floor and held the right boot for his husband, looking up at him, just wanting to have a day where they didn’t fight.
“I can drive. I’m still good for some things after all.” Damon murmured softly and shoved his foot into the boot, managing not to wince as pain shot up his leg. He placed his foot on the floor and bent, tying up the laces tight. He stuck his other foot out to Grant and leaned back on his hands.
“Why are we going over to Da’s again?”
Grant quickly laced the boot. “Your mother decided to have us come over for supper. She wanted to celebrate something. I told her she didn’t have to, but you know how that goes,” he said quietly, not wanting to mention the fact he’d made the Dean’s list again and a short paper he’d written had been published by a little medical journal out west.
Damon grunted and nodded, leaning forward to run his hand over Grant’s hair. He pulled the other man to him, pressed a kiss to his mouth and stood, bringing Grant up with him.
“Let’s go then. I don’t really want to hear it from her how I made dinner cold by being late.”
“We won’t be late and I made that tuna casserole you like to take as well,” Grant said as he gave Damon a hug and stepped away to go to the kitchen. “Do you want me to go on down?”
Damon followed Grant into the kitchen, opening the freezer to get out another package of cigarettes. He tucked it in to the pocket of his shirt and held the door for his husband. “I’m ready.”
He patted his pockets and grabbed his lighter waiting on Grant before closing the door.
Neither man spoke much on the way to Wheeling, Grant busy writing furiously in a notebook on some paper he had to work on while Damon drove. Once at the home of the elder Wolffe’s, Grant quickly took the casserole into the house and hoped to find Marion before she could start in on his schooling.
“Mother Wolffe… could I speak to you for a moment, please?” Grant asked as he found the woman in the kitchen. “I need you to please not say anything about the Dean’s list or that paper, ok? Please?”
Marion turned and looked at her son-in-law. “Why Gracie? You worked so hard on that paper and John and I are so proud of you.” She rinsed the flour from her hands and dried them on the bottom of her apron. “I just can’t believe that after such fantastic news you’d want to hide it under a bushel.”
Marion leaned in and kissed Grant’s cheek. “I just know Damon will be so excited for you. He’s always been proud of you for going on to school.”
Grant smiled sadly at the woman’s words. “I don’t know Mother Wolffe, but maybe now isn’t the right time to talk about it. It’s not important anyhow,” he said as he set the casserole he’d brought into the oven to reheat. “Let’s just have a nice evening, alright?”
Marion’s eyes narrowed and she stepped back looking at Grant. She pursed her lips and shook her head as she reached into the cabinet over the sink and got down a small phial. She held it out to him and sighed. “Do you remember what I told you about men Gracie?”
She lead him over to the kitchen table, picking up the pitcher of tea and pouring them both a glass. “Life’s full of bumps and bruises, my dear, however we bear it with grace and in the end we’ll receive the reward.” She winked at him. “Always pick out the most expensive and largest sparkle, Gracie.”
Grant smiled at his mother-in-law, placing one of his small hands over hers. “I don’t want any sparkles, Marion. I don’t think sparkles can fix anything anymore,” he said softly as he poured Damon a glass of tea to take in to him.
Marion sighed. “Give him time, Gracie. You and I both know that he wasn't always this way. The Marine Corps and war change a man. He’ll come back to you. You just have to give him time, otherwise everything you’ve gone through is for naught.”
She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Besides my dear, he’ll need you more than ever. John went through a rough patch as well after his service time ended. If you’ve a mind to set him free, there’s always some little town hussy waiting in the wings. I’m certain you know well whom I am speaking of.”
Grant nodded as he looked at the older woman. His eyes ran over her and he noticed perhaps for the first time the large diamonds she wore and he understood that she knew exactly what was happening. “I know who you mean Marion, and I’d sooner scratch the cow’s eyes out. I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise. I’m just tired,” he said softly as he picked up the glass to carry into the other room.
He found Damon sitting on the sofa watching a football game with John. “I brought you something to drink, would you like something else?” he asked as he set the glass on the table in front of Damon and sat down on the arm of the sofa next to him.
Damon reached forward and sipped the glass of tea gratefully. He drained the glass and set it back on the table. He leaned back and pulled Grant into his lap, running his hand down the loose strands. “Thanks. I’d really appreciate it if you’d bring me another. Da, would you like anything? Gracie will be more than happy to get it for you.”
He tugged on the dark strands just a bit before setting Grant on his feet in front of him. “Go on now. Don’t block the television.” He swatted Grant on the bottom then waited for him to move.
Grant pasted a smile on his face and bent to kiss Damon’s cheek. “I’ll bring it right out,” he murmured, as he picked up the glass and made his way back into the kitchen to pour another for him and one for John. Taking them back out, he set them on the coffee table and stood behind Damon quietly.
“Thank you, Grant.” John eyed his boy and Grant, shaking his head slightly as he sipped his tea. He sighed and turned back to the television wondering when the best time to speak with his son would be. “So we do we get a copy of that paper? What magazine did you say it would be published in?”
Grant froze, sucking in his breath and hoping Damon hadn’t heard. “I don’t know,” he mumbled as he tried to downplay everything. “Just some crackpot rag out in California.”
John looked at Grant. “I thought you said this was an accredited journal, boy. Don’t talk about it like that. Marion was singing your praises to the Garden Club just last night. I swear them damn women miss Gracie just as much as Marion does.”
He eyed his son then looked back at Grant. “We’re proud of both of you. That Riddley boy is going to go a long way as well.”
Grant blushed, hoping against hope Damon was engrossed in whoever was playing. “Thank you. Scott is going to do well. I’ll have to be sure to come around this coming summer and help out with the gardens,” he said softly. “They just don’t mind the fact I’ll get dirty digging up what they need me to.”
Reaching out, he ran one hand over Damon’s longish hair and excused himself. “I’m going to go help Mother Wolffe.”
Damon grunted as he pulled away from Grant’s hand. “See that you do since you do everything else so well. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Scott nor the Garden Club now, would we?”
He shook his head and leaned forward, not saying anything else. He cut his eyes up at Grant. “You can go now.” Turning back to the television, he reached out to pick up his glass, sipping it slightly before replacing it rather sharply on the table.
Grant left the room, blinking back tears of shame at what Damon had said. He knew he’d done nothing wrong.
John turned to look at his boy, one hand on his knee as he took the younger man’s appearance in. “Was that entirely necessary?” he asked as he reached for his own glass of tea.
Damon just snorted and shook his head. “I doubt it but then again who knows.” He looked at his father. “What is the difference anyway? He didn’t bother to tell me about the fucking paper. This was the first I’d heard of it.” He leaned back against the couch.
“Although I think I’ve already taken care of the other man’s little problem. At least I hope that was the only one. You’d never know by the way he’s dressing now.” Damon crossed his leg over the other, foot shaking and he played with his jeans.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a deep drag from it.
John frowned at Damon for a moment and looked toward the kitchen door. “Are you trying to tell me he’s playing around?” he asked softly, not believing it for a moment of the small man.
Damon shrugged and closed his eyes as the cigarette smoke wafted around him. The tobacco helped some but it still wasn’t enough. He sighed. “There’s been an awful lot of them frat boys around since I come home. They’ve dwindled down now since I said something to one of them but I have no idea what goes on while he’s supposedly at school and I’m working on the house.”
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at his father. “I done bought into a money pit with that old house, Da and he’s never said a damn thing about all the renovations Courtney and I’ve done. He says he’s been out there but I’ve never seen him.”
John shook his head, he well knew how some of the working days went for his son and his buddy and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Grant had been there and he’d never known.
“Have you bothered to ask him about this Scott Riddley?” John asked as he sipped at his tea and wondered how to end the conversation.
Damon looked at his father. “What part of first time I’ve ever heard about this did you not understand?” He took a drag off his smoke and crushed it out in the ashtray on the table before standing. He looked down at John. “I’ll be outside.” He walked away, slamming the door behind him.
Grant stood at the kitchen window watching Damon outside. Shaking his head, he turned to Marion. “I should go see if he’s alright.”
Marion sighed as she opened the door to the oven and checked the casserole and the roast. “I suppose, Gracie. Be careful, honey.” She closed the oven door and turned to Grant.
“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”
Grant nodded and fished a pill bottle out of his pants pocket; he’d brought some of Damon’s pain relievers with him just in case. “I’ll just be a moment.” He slipped out the door and crossed the yard where Damon was standing.
“Damon, is your back hurting?” he asked softly as he held the nearly empty bottle out to his husband. “I found these and thought they might help if you got to hurting today.”
Damon turned and eyed his husband. He looked at the outstretched hand and pills then back at Grant’s face. Frowning, he took in the braided hair and apron over Grant’s clothing. It was one of his mother’s frillier get ups and he sneered.
“So, I’ve been allotted to have you take over my medicines now? I’m just certain you ‘found’ them.” He swiped the bottle of pills and walked away. “I suppose I am just going to drain the hose to swallow these down.”
“No, I didn’t decide to take over anything. I found the damned bottle at the farmhouse in the toolbox,” Grant snapped as he snatched his hand back. “Well, the tap is right where it’s always been.”
Damon turned around and reached out, slapping Grant across the mouth. “I don’t ever want to hear that tone come out of your mouth again. Do you understand me?” He growled at his husband. “I’ve eyes and I can see perfectly well where the damned tap is, I don’t need your overeducated ass telling me how things are.”
Grant brought his hand up to cover his smarting mouth, his eyes wide as he watched the other man. “I understand,” he mumbled behind his hand, staggering back away from Damon.
“What’s the matter Injun?” Damon took a step forward. “You got your britches in a knot and now you can’t handle it, eh? Think you are a big man. Where’s your balls now?” He grabbed Grant by his shirt front and brought him up off the ground, their faces ever so close together. “What do you understand?” He asked softly.
“To never sass you again,” Grant whispered, his eyes lowered and his hands held out protectively. “I was only bringing them to you because I was worried you were in pain.”
As the shirt dug painfully into his skin, Grant looked up into Damon’s eyes and began to beg. “Please Damon, not here, please.”
Damon snorted and shook Grant for a moment before dropping him to the ground. “You always did beg so prettily, Injun.” He turned away then looked back at the man on the ground. “Go on back to the house little Injun. Back to where you belong.”
Grant flinched as Damon called him Injun once more. What had been a term of endearment had become hateful and derogatory from the blond man’s mouth. “Would you like tea?” he asked as he got to his hands and knees, determined not to let John or Marion be any wiser to what was going on.
Damon waved away the question. “Don’t see as how it makes a difference, Grant. I’ve the tap right there as you’ve already pointed out.” He opened the bottle and shook out two pills. He popped them into his mouth, crunching them in his teeth before bending and drinking from the water hose.
He dropped the hose and looked back at Grant. “Make certain you use one of your fantastic little charms you are getting so good at. Can’t have anyone noticing that the good doctor’s less than perfect now can we?”
He stumbled slightly as he walked away from the faucet. He tossed the pill bottle back at Grant. “I’ll need two more in about four hours, Doc. Make certain I don’t overdose now, will ya?”
Scrabbling for the bottle in the dirt, Grant quickly followed Damon. “Honestly, I didn’t take these from you. I found them last week out at the farmhouse when I went out there. I swear it Damon,” he said trying to convince the man he wasn’t trying to run his life. “We’d gone out to see all the work you’ve done and they were in the toolbox.”
Damon stopped before turning around slowly. “We? You got a mouse in your pocket?” He swayed a bit then arched an eyebrow. “Now this ‘we’. Is it a royal ‘we’ or were there more than one of you out there? Last I noticed there was only one man I married that should have been going out to ‘our’ home.”
Grant looked confused for a moment. “I’ve told everyone about the renovations you are doing out there and some of them asked if they could see the house. I didn’t think you’d mind, so we drove out last Thursday after classes were over. I’m sorry Damon, I didn’t know that no one else was allowed out there.”
Damon shook his head. “So you had to show off what a fuck up I’ve become to your new little friends? Or perhaps your new little boyfriend, Scott I believe his name was?” He took a step toward Grant again. “Were they impressed? Did they tell you how lucky you were that your husband had time to do such things?”
He threw his hands wide. “Oh wait a minute, you can’t tell them that now could you? We’ve protected this little secret for so long. Unless you did so as perfect little Gracie then yes that would be alright then wouldn’t it? Prim, proper little Gracie got one over on the dumb hillbilly.”
“What on earth are you talking about Damon?” Grant asked as he backed up, not sure of the crazed look on his husband’s face. “Scott is my lab partner, you know that, I’ve told you that. And no, he wasn’t with me, it was Tracey, Michelle, and Wendy. All I wanted to do was show off the woodwork you’ve been restoring Damon.”
He watched his husband as he wondered how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. “They all agreed with me, what you’ve done is amazing.”
Damon snorted. “Sure they did, Grant. I'm just certain they did.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Go on back to the kitchen and help mom. I’m tired of looking at you.”
“They did Damon, Wendy wanted to know if you did contracting work. Her mother needs some things restored. I didn’t know what to tell her,” Grant said, his hands held up in front of him protectively as he backed toward the house.
Damon hung his head for a moment before cackling madly. He looked at his husband and snorted. “Oh of course, hire the dumb hillbilly out. It’s all he’s good for after all. Ain’t worth a damn since he came back a baby killer.”
“No Damon, it’s not like that at all,” Grant said as he changed course and stepped toward the hurting man. “Honestly, she was thinking you did this as your business. No one thinks you are dumb, I know I don’t.” He set his hands gently on Damon’s forearm. “You are not a baby killer Damon. Never. You protected your family and your country.”
Damon swallowed and shoved Grant away. “Bullshit. Don’t give me that bullshit Grant. I was there. I saw the signs and heard the voices.” He turned away and stumbled over his own feet then righted himself. He dug in his pockets pulling out his cigarettes again and lit one with shaking hands. “Go. Back to the house. I’m hungry.”
Grant turned without saying a word and fled back into the house, helping Marion set the food on the table and then waiting for Damon to come back in.
Marion watched and waited for her son to return before sighing and, standing, placed her hands on the table. She went out to the kitchen door. “Damon Nolan, get in this house for dinner. Don’t make me send your father out there.”
Grant quickly followed behind the older woman. “Mother Wolffe, please. I’ll just take him something to eat. He’s not feeling very well right now,” he murmured as he looked out to where Damon was pacing.
“I’ll bring you some tuna casserole and salad Damon,” he said as he disappeared back to the dining room to fix the man a plate.
Marion frowned. “Gracie, you’ll do no such thing. I want my boy at the table with the family. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together and this is what I want.” She turned back to the kitchen door.
“Damon, so help me if you don’t get your ass in this house, I swear to Merlin I will send your father out after you. We won’t even talk about getting a hickory switch. Now get in here, boy.” Marion's voice strained at maintaining properladylike tones.
Damon looked up at his mother in the doorway and shook his head, walking back toward the house. He stood over his mother smiling gamely at her. “No need to get your stockings in a knot, mother. I heard you.” He bent and kissed her cheek before sliding by her into the house. “Let me wash before you start on me about that as well.”
Grant stood nervously in the dining room, waiting for Damon to come in and sit down before he did. He wasn’t sure if he should do as he always did and fix the man his plate. “Damon… what would you like?” he asked softly as he kept his eyes on the table.
Damon finished washing his hands in the kitchen sink then dried them on a dish towel. He sat down at the table and looked over the dishes. “Whatever you think I should have, Doc.” He said softly as he scooted up to the table, reaching out for his glass of tea and sipping it gingerly.
Fighting back tears, Grant quickly made up a plate of what he knew Damon liked and set it in front of him before sitting down. He waited for Marion and John to serve themselves before he cleared his throat softly.
“I have something to say, if it’s alright,” he said softly as he clasped his hands under the table and waited.
Marion smiled at Grant and nodded. “More good news I hope, Gracie.” She set John’s plate in front of him and finished her own then sat beside her husband. She reached out and clasped his hand before turning back to Grant. “Go on dear, I can’t wait to hear your news.”
Damon just nodded and waited on Grant to speak. “Don’t need my permission now do you, Doc.”
Keeping his eyes on the empty plate in front of him, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I’ve decided I’m leaving school effective immediately.”
Damon looked up at him and shook his head. “Like hell you are. I promised that bitch of an Indian that you would get your goddamned education and you are going to finish it. What the fuck's wrong with you?” He set down his glass of tea with a bang. “I thought you were just published and all that. Can’t give up now, little Injun. You done proved her wrong and I sure as hell won’t have a quitter for a husband.”
Marion and John sat in stunned silence as they watched Damon and Grant.
Shaking like a leaf, Grant pushed his chair back. “Excuse me please,” he mumbled as he stood and hurried for the room he’d shared with Damon when they’d first been married.
Damon pushed away from the table and stormed after Grant. “Get back here, Grant. Don’t make me come after your ass it will be ten times worse.”
“Please Damon… I’m not hungry anymore,” Grant said as he wiped at his eyes before he headed up the stairs.
“I don’t give a shit whether you are hungry or not. I told you to get down here and I mean it.” Damon stared up the stairs after Grant. “You just don’t drop a bomb like that and walk off.”
“You should be happy Damon. I’m just a stupid Indian, too big for my britches, isn’t that right?” Grant asked as he stopped, turned and sat down on one of the steps, his face blank.
Damon growled and stared down at his husband. “So that’s it, huh? You are going to mix and throw my words right back at me? First you got the balls the stand up to me now you are a fucking quitter. Your little boyfriend talk you into it? Promise you the world if you’d leave that murderer? Set you up in a nice house and never have you lift a finger?”
Grant jumped to his feet, “Scott is not my boyfriend, you retarded ape!” he screamed as he smacked at Damon’s chest with his hands. “Why can’t you get that through your head? He thinks I’m a girl and he’s as queer as you are.”
Damon grunted at Grant’s slaps and grabbed the small man, shoving him up the stairs. “You little shit.” He bent over Grant as he lay on the landing. “Let me tell you something about queers like me.” He reached back and slapped Grant across the face again.
“Not only am I not queer but you had to find out that information from somewhere so I guess you've been spreading your legs all over this goddammed town.” He slapped Grant again then pulled him to his feet. “Now if I’m queer then so are you and your perfect little world is about to come to an end because no one is going to want a murderer’s little whore.”
Blood flowing freely down his face, Grant looked up at Damon through confused eyes. “I know I’m queer,” he whispered as he tried to put his hands on Damon’s. “Damon…” he began and then shrieked as Damon threw him down the stairs.
Part Two