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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Fortress - 2. Chapter 2

Brody walked through the pile of boxes that were being unloaded in his house; he lowered his sunglasses and watched as a particularly garish piece of art was taken through.

"Don't tell me, a Jeff Sternosti original?"

Will lowered the painting he was carrying and glanced at the chaotic splashes of colour that warred for attention on the canvas. "Yeah it was my birthday present last year," he said as he carried it through to the living room. "It's called 'Mother's Repose'."

"Looks more like mother decomposed," Brody said with a shake of his head as he contemplated the piece. "I think I see a hand..."

Marc carrying a potted plant in from the truck stopped and stared, and looked at Brody. "Acid flashback?" he asked with a grin.

"I was just thinking it looks like something my niece Kaitlin drew me." Brody stood back and studied the painting, "She's two and a half, by the way, so cute..."

Will shook his head at the pair as he went back out to the moving truck to get some more boxes, grinning broadly as a familiar blond head of hair bobbed up the driveway alongside the truck.

Peter had changed little. He was older, yes, but still looked for the entire world like a California surfer kid who was horribly lost. Visor cap, bad Hawaiian shirt and a big grin on his face, he had his arms around Will in two seconds flat, hugging him for all he was worth.

"Hey there li'l one," Will said, grinning as he squeezed the youngster tightly in return.

"Big bro!" Peter said, taking a step back, and caving for a second hug almost immediately. "I'm so glad you're home."

Will chuckled as he untangled his arms from the vice-like grip of the kid who was more a little brother than anything else. "It's good to be home," he said, climbing into the truck and gathering up some more stuff to be taken inside.

"You're staying, right?" Peter pressed eagerly.

"The moving van's my overnight bag," Will replied sarcastically. "You know us gay men have to take everything with us every time we go away for the weekend."

Peter smiled shyly, reaching up to take some of the bags and following Will into the house, "But seriously, how long are you staying? For good, right?"

Will shook his head and grinned as he set the bags down. "For a couple of years at least," he said, looking back at Peter. "Scout's honour."

"You were in the scouts?" Marc asked, looking up from rooting through one of the boxes for a CD, which he plugged into the stereo, much to Body's utter disdain.

"Nahh. Will just likes the uniform," Brody replied, taking the CD from Marc and tsk-ing loudly. "Son," he wrapped an arm around Marc in a fatherly fashion, "if you're going to be living in this house, let me ed-u-MA-cate you on the advantages of vinyl."

"Oh god, here he goes," Will groaned, watching as Brody opened his record collection. Marc, an aspiring musician, took one look at the collection and was in love. Will shook his head; another poor soul lost to record stores and bad coffee houses.

Peter looked questioningly at Marc and over at Will. "Whozat?" the silent question Will knew was being asked with the look.

"Marc, this is Peter, our resident mascot," Will introduced with a nod wiping his forehead with the back of his hand to wipe some of the sweat from all the lifting. "Peter, this is Marc, my boyfriend..."

There it was, official, like someone had just dropped a heavy weight on the entire room. There was a moment's uncomfortable silence as Peter just looked at Will, his mouth moving to say something, but a quick glance at a rather puzzled Marc caused him to pause.

"Hey?" came Lisa's rather musical voice from the front hall. "We came to help, I hope you don't mind." Lisa appeared in the doorway, her husband and a rather short, but definitely curious toddler hiding behind his mommy's legs.

Will was grateful for the break in tension and he grinned at Lisa, "You're a godsend." He glanced past her at Jeff who was smiling at his painting he had just noticed propped up in the room, "I need some help with the furniture."

Jeff groaned and dramatically rolled his eyes, "But..."

Lisa poked him and gestured to the door, and with slumped shoulders Jeff led the way back out to the truck. He clambered up and picked out a heavy-looking bed frame.

"You still got the Jeep, then," Jeff noted, looking at the black TJ sitting at the curb; Will's trusty Jeep that had gotten them into and out of so much trouble over the years. They all remembered Jeff's bachelor party and the desperate escape from a Quebec strip club.

Will nodded, "She did just fine in the T-dot, handled the city streets like a champion." He stopped and looked out at the Jeep, "In fact, she's been a good friend."

"Sentimentality about a car?" Lisa asked him as she accepted a rather large potted plant her husband passed down to her. "That's so unlike the Will we sent to Toronto."

Will shrugged as he helped Jeff with the bed frame, slipping a little on the drive but recovering quickly. The two stumbled their way up to the front door and began to wrestle the thing inside.

"So everything squared with Brody, then?" Lisa asked hopefully.

Will paused and nodded, "I'm renting his house on the condition he comes and goes as he pleases. It's basically back to the way it was before..." he stopped and looked down at the frame, picking it up again and carrying on.

Before he moved in with Andrew, that was the unfinished thought. That was the one subject all of his friends were curious about, but so far none of them had openly broached it. Too much history, too much time and too many excuses. Any which way, life moved on. His relationship with Andrew belonged in the past and he was resolute to keep it there.

Lisa chose, wisely, to drop the subject, admonishing her son Aiden for climbing on the back of the sofa. The little one gave her a disgruntled look before clambering down, content to play with the coasters on the coffee table, at least until mommy was out of sight again.

The bed frame took some negotiating up the stairs past the wrought iron railing, and finally into the old bedroom, and once it was in place Will stopped to look about him. It had been his room through the last years of high school and whenever he had a vacation from Kings University. In many ways this house was his home and had been for so many of the important events of his life. So much history inside of such small walls.

Even though he was going to miss sharing a house in Toronto with his buddy Jared, moving back felt right. He loved Ottawa; the city and its vibrancy was a welcome break from the congestion and stress of a city that had too many people on top of one another.

Marc cleared his throat in the doorway, looking about him at the room before he smiled at Will, "It's bigger than the old place."

"Yeah," Will replied, "quieter as well." He looked over at the scruffy young man who had uprooted his life just to come with Will to a completely new city, "You sure you want to do this?" he asked again for the umpteenth time.

Marc nodded. "You were the only thing keeping me in Toronto," he admitted. "Besides, I can probably get into college here easily enough."

Will nodded with a smile on his face. "One of my conditions on accepting the job," he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "Robert Avery pulled a few strings and got you into a photography program at Ottawa University."

"You're fucking with me," Marc said, his eyes wide with shock as he tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter, rereading it in utter disbelief. "I can't believe...how did you? Whoa!"

Will grinned as he embraced the surprised young man. "A house warming present," he said, and kissed Marc's forehead gently.

Marc beamed up at him, his eyes filled with emotion as he looked into Will's eyes. Borderline terror as always, Will mused, like Marc was perpetually terrified of the emotions he felt for Will.

Scared of the emotions or not, Marc admitted to them and accepted them. He loved Will, this kind, protective man who took the world on squarely and always seemed to have an ace up his sleeve. He was kind to Marc in a way no one else had ever been. And Marc knew without a doubt he returned those feelings. Which didn't stop the fact he was in love from terrifying the hell out of him. Anyone with any common sense knew to be terrified of that depth of emotion.

"Hello, bitches," Brody said, coming up the stairs. "You two going to stare longingly into each other's eyes or are you gonna give the rest of us a hand moving your shit in?"

Will grinned at Marc's sudden flush of embarrassment, as they headed back downstairs to bring the rest of the stuff inside.

* * *

It had been a long day; the workers were splayed about the box-littered living room literally looking exhausted. A couple of open pizza boxes were in the middle of the coffee table and beers in everyone's hands, the traditional payment for friends moving friends.

Aiden was asleep in the guest bedroom, totally worn out like the rest of them by the day's excitement. His mother was curled up against Jeff who was sipping a beer and looking to be enjoying total relaxation.

Will had his back up against the couch watching Peter playing on the X-box trying to beat Marc at halo. That wasn't going to happen, Marc had the game down; unemployment gave Marc plenty of practice time and he used it to its full advantage. Though there was no doubting Peter was good.

"Ohh, head shot!" Brody exclaimed, sipping his drink and looping a leg over the arm of his chair. "And again Canadian snipers prove why we kick ass."

Will shook his head and gestured with a beer. "That is hardly proof of Canadian 'kick ass' ability," he stated flatly.

"Oh, and the Brit offers up a challenge!" Brody said with a grin.

Will sighed as Peter offered him a controller, shaking his head as he pushed it back, "That's not even close to the real thing."

"I don't want to think of you loose in the woods somewhere with a loaded weapon," Brody said with a slight shudder.

"Bambi wouldn't stand a chance," Will said with a chuckle.

Lisa gave him a look of sheer disgust, "You wouldn't dare!"

Will turned back to look at her, "My father used to drag me out into the back woods in a desperate effort to make a man out of me." He shuddered at that memory, "Well I do know a little bit about it."

"You know it is hunting season," Brody said with a broad grin. "Once you're settled in we should go for a weekend. Put those mad skills of yours to the test."

Will sighed, wondering what he was being talked into. "The last time I went to a cabin with you," he said with a distant look, "there weren't any mattresses and I ended sleeping on the floor under my coat... I learned to curse your name that weekend."

"Dude," Brody protested, "I didn't make the reservations, that was all her doing." He pointed at Lisa.

Lisa grinned impishly, "I booked the place, I got a bed; I wasn't responsible for the rest of you."

Will sighed, "Yeah, I remember no one warning me of this beforehand, so when it came time all the beds had been taken."

"Well, if you're going hunting I won't be going," she said resolutely. "I am not about to participate in helping your testosterone-driven destruction of our natural resources."

"Hey now," Will replied turning back to her. "You work for the Minister of Heritage not the Minister of the Environment. You're supposed to support our traditional right to hunt Bambi for food."

She screwed up her nose at the thought, "I have the luxury of being able to pick my battles; if I accidentally forget to write a speech on that subject and instead get him to focus on the Americanization of Canadian television..."

"Remind me to fire your ass," Will said, shaking his head.

"You may be my boss, William Carter, but just remember I know where you sleep!" Lisa threatened.

"I'd listen to her if I were you," Jeff said. "She knows kung fu."

Will chuckled as he watched Marc pick Peter off again with another well-placed sniper shot. It was good to be home.

Copyright © 2011 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Will is back to the fun guy from the early books. I'm not sure if Marc is the cause, or simply time, but this makes me happy. 

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