Page 90 of Out of the Storm

And then, the second he crossed the threshold into Gary’s radio studio, he fell to his knees, his muscles so sore it felt like he had run a marathon. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What can I do?” Gary asked, kneeling next to him. He reached a hand toward Jeff but then stopped. “Can I touch you?”

Jeff nodded.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” Gary added.

And the moment Gary’s fingertips touched his forearm, Jeff turned and collapsed into Gary’s arms. He rested his head onGary’s chest, snuggling close, and when Gary wrapped his arms around him, Jeff finally felt safe. Not trapped. Not fearful.Safe.

“Jeffrey,” Gary whispered, stroking Jeff’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Jeff hugged Gary tighter.

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered under his breath. “I fucking hate him.”

“I know.” Gary continued to move his fingers through Jeff’s hair. “I’m here.”

Inhaling Gary’s scent, Jeff nuzzled his nose against Gary’s shirt.

“I should have...” Jeff trailed off, unsure of what he’d thought to say. Punched him? Spat in his face? Called him a name? The truth was, Jeff had been too shocked to evenmove. “I should have done something,” he mumbled after another moment.

“Next time we see him, I’ll punch himforyou.” Gary said this with such complete and utter sincerity that Jeff started to chuckle, and soon, his entire body was shaking from laughter, every trace of upset being forcibly ejected by the feel of his muscles trembling from happiness.

“God, do you even know how to make a fist, Gare Bear?”

“Of course I know how to make a fist! I’m not sure if I’d have theoomphbehind my punch to effectively hurt him, though.”

“Yeah, Don’s pretty big. I never told you that, huh?”

“No, you never told me he was The Hulk. I’d have remembered that.”

“Well, remember when you asked me if I had a type?Thatwas my type.”

“Yikes.” Gary squeezed him. “How on earth did I manage to make you like me, then?”

“Because you’re perfect, Gare. I mean, your ass in bike shorts? Museum-worthy. DaVinci couldn’t have sculpted a better ass.”

“Yeah, but, Jeff, I’m five-foot-nine.”

Jeff squeezed one of Gary’s biceps. “Look at these muscles. Perfect.”

“Yeah, right. I won’t be entering any bodybuilding competitions anytime soon.”

“Nope, you won’t be.” Jeff rolled over to rest the back of his head on Gary’s chest instead and pulled Gary’s arms tighter around him for a backward hug. “And it’s perfect.”

Gary kissed his head. “I really will clobber him if I ever see him here in Niles.”

“Sure, Gare.”

“Just—bam!—I’ll show him what Gary Graham is made of.”

Now Jeff was contending with a second bout of body-shaking laughter. “Stop, stop. I might piss myself.”

Lowering his voice, Gary responded with, “I don’t get no respect. No respect at all.”

Jeff cocked an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be Rodney Dangerfield?”

“Well, yeah, who else would it be?”

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