Who: Carlos Serrano and Bobby Twist Where: Bar down the street from the clinic in Utah When: Whenever we want! What: The doctor is in? ;D Rating: Knowing our dear Mr. Twist, probably at least hard R for language
Finding himself in this place had its advantages and its disadvantages. Sure, he now owned his own clinic in (from what he'd seen from the limited patient files that the previous owner had left behind) a fairly dense Spanish-speaking community ... but he didn't have Mayko or Bob ... not even David. Carlos loved David - not in the way that he loved most other men who became as close to him in his life but more like a brother. Then there was his mother, alone in Mexico ... he didn't know what he'd do if she died or something while he was gone.
He frowned, sliding down onto the stool and ordering a beer from the tender. At least he was pleasantly surprised at that - beer in Toronto had always been overpriced. Now all that was left was to wait for a Mr. Bobby Twist. Hopefully he'd show up - Carlos could use the company.
With hands stuffed in his pockets, Bobby shouldered his way through the door as someone else bustled out into the chilly Utah evening. Dark blue eyes scanned the interior of the bar, finally settling on the man sitting alone, nursing a beer. No risk, no gain, Bobby thought, and made his way over.
"Carlos? Bobby Twist." He tilted his chin in greeting and hoped he had the right guy.
Carlos paused before he nodded to the chair next to him. "That would be me." He'd asked Bobby before if he wanted to buy him a beer, but he was already nursing one and it seemed suddenly a bit silly to ask the young man.
If he bought one later there would be only gain and no loss, he supposed.
"I feel like I should be asking a dozen questions, but what I really want to do is try and find the answers myself." Which could be potentially hazardous.
"Nah, I ain't no authority, no how." Bobby shook his head. He raised his hand to the bar keep, to order a beer. "Only been here but a few days, m'self. Alls I can tell ya, expect th'unexpected." He nodded his appreciation to the beer and took a long pull off the top.
"Should I ask what that means?" From what Carlos had seen in this place ... well, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. At least the company was pleasant -- Bobby was certainly a looker.
Perhaps when he became a little better-situated he'd think of asking the man to dinner.
Bobby smiled a quirky little smile the Twists were known for. "M'daddy's here. He died, when I was ten. An' now, he's here as alive as you'n me. This place c'n do 'at sorta thing."
Carlos sighed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Well, I'd say I haven't seen stranger things ... but parthenogenesis is pushing that 'logic' thing for me. I suppose it's ... possible." Genetic cloning or something like that.
"And let me guess. You get used to it?"
"I reckon." Bobby tipped his beer back and slouched a little in his seat. He felt an instant attraction to Carlos. He idly wondered what the man would do it he suggested they go somewhere a little more private. He'd been shot down so many times, beaten in the alleys out back of the bars so often, he was a little wary.
"Well. I guess we'll have to wait that one out." He took a sip of his own beer and glanced sideways at Bobby. The attraction was most certainly mutual, although he didn't much do the 'instant gratification' thing any more. Going to dinner first was something he'd grown accustomed to in the city, but it had been a long while since he'd seen ... well, anyone.
"Same, my friend." Bobby leaned forward, blue eyes bright in the dim light of the bar. "Tell the truth, 'm a bit spooked, yet."
God, those eyes. Carlos grinned over the edge of his beer and gave Bobby a wink. "At least we have good company, if nothing else."
Bobby nodded. "Indeed, we do." He caressed the lip of his bottle somewhat suggestively, but subtle enough to be dismissed as nothing more than savoring his drink. He licked his lips, then sipped. "You was in Tortonto b'fore?"
At that moment he decided that he could very much use a night like the one going through his mind. "Yes, working for NORBAC. It's a committee that keeps track of any questionable genetic activity in North America." He smirked. "Fancy term for 'genetic police', I guess."
"Genetic Activity? Sounds pretty fancy t'me. 'Spose we does th'same thing, on the ranch, an' all. Breedin' th'horses an' cows an' sometimes e'en th'dogs t'try an' get certain features."
Carlos was perfectly comfortable talking crops and animals. "Yes. I've worked on several cases to do with cattle and a couple to do with plants. Things in the soil making people sick, that sort of thing." He licked his lips, finishing up his beer.
Bobby smiled. He was comfortable with the conversation, and intrigued by the man next to him. He tilted back to drain his bottle, and thumped it on the bar as he brought it back down. "Care f'r 'nother?"
A second drink was always a good sign. "I wouldn't say no," he remarked with another smile, wondering if Bobby would get the hint. He seemed like the sort who was used to creeping around, so he had to ask ... "When did you say you were from?"
"When? About ten years a' so back." Bobby rubbed at his chin. "Ain't sure what t'think 'bout that, now." The time warp was almost as disorienting as his father being alive.
"I can see how that could be hard," He admitted, thinking back to the attitude of only ten years ago. "Seeing how things have ... changed and all." Carlos flagged the tender over so they could both get a drink.
Bobby smiled at the bar tender, and accepted a fresh beer with a nod of thanks. "'S all a little disorientin'." Bobby shrugged. "I reckon we'll adjust, in time."
"I'd hope so. If you ever need someone to ... well, talk to..." He took a pull off his own beer. "I'm told I make a very good ear for listening." By David and Mayko both.
"I'll keep that in mind." Bobby shifted in his seat, setting his back a little straighter. It only lasted a moment, before he was slouching again.
Carlos didn't comment on it, at least not for now. He looked to the man curiously, then. "So ... you ranch? I suppose that makes sense out here."
"'S 'bout th'only think I ever known how t'do. M'granddaddy wanted me t'sell farmin' equiptment, but I ain't no kinda salesman." Not to mention the hate he felt for his granddaddy as he got older.
He laughed. "I understand. Part of the reason I got into medicine was because my Mother wanted me to, but I ended up loving it." Carlos ducked his head.
"Ranchin' was m'pa's thing. He wanted nothin' more than t'own his own spread. Now, I reckon, he does." Bobby's smile was a little bit of pride.
"That's wonderful. My mother ... she lives in Mexico City. Visits my brother on the coast now and again, in Mexico. I think she's glad to have me away, but she wants me home at the same time."
Bobby nodded and sipped his beer. He had mixed feelings about his mother, now that he was reunited with his father. "Mothers, I think, is a breed all their own."
"Love them or leave them, I guess." Carlos took another drink of his beer and shook his head. "Wives too, I think."
Bobby made a dismissive sound. "Ain't no sense in 'at." He shook his head. "I reckon, anyhow."
He glanced down into his beer with a sad smile. "My ... ex-wife, she died a little under a year ago. She was a good woman."
Bobby swallowed hard. he hadn't seen that coming. "'M sorry, Carlos." He nodded sympathetically. "I can see that y'loved her."
Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Carlos nodded. "I did. She was the one who ... well, outed me." Rather forcibly. "And when I needed her to, she let me go. I'm grateful for that."
Bobby needed a drink, if Carlos said what he thought he said. He blinked a couple of times, and shifted slightly, leaning forward, then back again. "Outted you?"
He laughed. "You know --" Carlos waved a hand, "From the closet. From ... where ever it was I was trying to hide. She was a good woman like that."
"Good woman's hard t'find." Bobby smiled. It was a revealing sort of smile. He was technically still in the closet, he supposed. Alma knew, and of course the men he'd been with. And now, he knew, for certain, Carlos was gay. Bobby's smile deepened.
"It's even harder not to let the good women sleep with your boss," he remarked with an exaggerated shrug. "But she and David were good for each other, no matter how ... short that got cut."
"M'girl, she walked in on me." Bobby looked down into his beer, with that confession. "Won't too pretty, neither."
Carlos clapped a hand onto his shoulder for a brief squeeze. "No, I can't imagine it was. I think she knew before I did." So that wouldn't have come up.
"Alma didn't have no clue." Bobby looked up, beer hanging limp in his hand.
"And are you still..." He trailed off for a moment. "With her?" As far as Carlos was concerned, something like that could kill a relationship pretty fast.
"She knows I got interests." Bobby sighed. "We 'ave a son, t'gether. Reckon 'at means we'll always be t'gether somehow. But ain't like I gotta marry her or nothin'."
A son. Well, that always made things the worst kind of complicated. He nodded. "And your son thinks ... you're together?" It wasn't his place to judge, but that could confuse a kid.
"He...understands we ain't like most folk." Bobby wasn't going to go in to detail. He wasn't sure he understood the situation enough, himself.
"It's not really my business, is it." He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with askin' questions, only way y'get ta know a man y'just met an' all."
He laughed. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and scare you off."
Bobby laughed. "I'm a right hard man t'scare, Carlos."
Carlos licked his lips. "Well, then I'm glad to hear that. I don't suppose you'd be interested in dinner."
"Dinner." Bobby nodded. "Dinner would be quite nice." He smiled. He was starting to like Carlos more and more. Granted, his encounters, as he called them, tended to be more immediate and urgent. But he kind of liked the slow, this time.
"I think I spotted a good place up the road. I'd be happy to take a spin at it ... perhaps tomorrow night, around seven?" He was glad to see that Bobby was open to some sort of date. That didn't mean he wasn't going to fantasize about the other man until then.
"I reckon that'll be jus' fine." Bobby fished off his second beer and leaned to the side to pull his wallet out of his pocket.
He was tempted to pick up the tab, but Carlos let Bobby pay while he finished his own beer off. They could either stay here and talk a little longer or head their separate ways, he thought.
Bobby settled the tab and returned his wallet to his pocket. "I oughtta be gettin' back. Promised th'boy a bedtime story."