The Gayest of Them All

The meeting went almost four hours. They had received inside knowledge from an informant posing as a dockworker that the schedule had been changed and the shipment was coming in tomorrow, not three weeks from now.

They had no choice but to go ahead with the raid tomorrow. Everyone had their assignments. God and Day would be on the grounds rounding up suspects, and their primary target was the kingpin. They stood outside the conference room talking with a few of the department heads. Day had a hard time concentrating with God looking at him like that. True he would always think of God sexually, but he also knew that this takedown was going to be dangerous. What if he lost God when he’d just officially gotten him?

They estimated about forty-to-fifty men on the dock, not including those coming in on the container ship. This was not their first raid by far and God and Day operated like a well-oiled machine, but somehow this one felt different.

This is why they don’t like couples working in the same precinct. Fuck. I need more coffee.

Day left God talking with the captain while he went in search of another refill. Day was sipping on a fresh cup of Mocha coffee with French vanilla cream when Johnson approached him.

“Are you and God seriously together, or were you just fucking with me?” Johnson asked in lieu of greeting.

Day groaned and turned toward his current headache. “That’s an awful lot to go through just to fuck with you, don’t you think, Johnson?”

Johnson threw both hands up in a gesture that said he didn’t give a shit. “Hey, whatever floats your boat, man.”

Johnson dug in the fridge and popped open a Coke. He turned back and Day thought immediately Johnson was going to try to convince Day he was making a huge mistake.

“So do you have any recommendations?” Johnson asked, not looking Day directly in his eyes.

“W-what?” Day stuttered. “Are you asking me who you should boink?”

“Jesus, Day, no.” Johnson waved his hand at him. “You know what… never mind.”

Day felt a little bad for Johnson. Maybe the guy was kind of lonely… perhaps in need of a good, hard boinking. Day was actually deep in thought when God strolled in with a thin file folder.

Day put down his cup and pointed at the file. “What’s that?”

“It’s nun-ya,” God said opening the refrigerator.

“What?” Day frowned.

“Nun-ya business.” God smirked.

“Oh you’re just full of corny-assed jokes today aren’t you, darlin’?” Day threw a packet of sugar at him.

God came up and kissed Day on his forehead. When Day looked over at Johnson, who was still slowly sipping his soda, the guy did look lonely as hell. Before Day could say something kind, his other headache strolled in.

“Oh hell. What the fuck is going on in here? This must be the officer’s gay alliance club meeting.”

Day blew an exasperated breath. “And now that you’re here, Ronowski, all members are present and we can begin.”

Day smiled as God and Johnson practically spit their drinks out laughing.

Ronowski fumed. “Day, you’re going to stop calling me gay! I have never been gay! I will never be gay, and I don’t like anyone that is gay! So stop saying that before people start believing your bullshit!”

Day clapped his hands together once. “Okay everyone those are the notes from last week’s meeting, now on to new business.” Day leveled Ronowski with a stern glare. “Ronowski, you are gay, man. You’re tightly closeted. But you are indeed gay, ultra-gay. You’re fuckin’ Marvin Gay. You crash landed on Earth when your gay planet exploded.” Day moved away from God and stood in front of an openmouthed Ronowski. “Come out of the closet already. It’s so bright and wonderful out here. Dude, I’ve seen Brokeback Mountain too, don’t believe that bullshit. No one cares who you fuck… ya know… like you tell me every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life,” Day said exaggeratedly.

He stepped in so close to Ronowski that he could smell the body wash he used.

“Let a man bang your back out one time.” Day leaned in to the man’s ear and felt Ronowski’s body give a fierce shudder. “I mean pound your ass so hard that you can’t walk straight for a week, and I guarantee you, you’ll want to march in the next gay pride parade, wearing nothing but a glitter jockstrap and a fuckin’ hot-pink feather boa.” Day stepped back and saw the beads of sweat that had popped up on Ronowski’s forehead. Satisfied he’d proven his point; he refilled his coffee and left the break room.

God raked the leaves in Day’s front yard while Day cooked their dinner. Both of them were quiet, no doubt the seriousness of tomorrow’s raid weighing heavily on their minds.

What if he gets hurt… or killed?

God could barely breathe when he thought about that. He figured the only way to ensure that didn’t happen was to keep Day by him at all times. God bagged up the leaves and set them at the curb.

He kicked off his boots before walking through the living room. Day’s house was very nice. It had been his grandmother’s and she’d left it for him in her will. Day did a lot of renovations on the three-bedroom, two-story home, and God found himself wishing he had a family to share that type of home with. He could see himself sitting on the large leather sofa in the den with Day snuggled up next to him, his mom baking them raisin bread, and Genesis upstairs blasting his music too loud. God shook his head at the nonsense and went in the kitchen to find the one thing he had in his life that was real. Day loved him, and as far as he was concerned, that would be enough for him.

He washed his hands at the deep sink inside Day’s kitchen. The appliances were plentiful and spread around on the vast counter space, all of them either chrome or black. Name-brand pots hung on a mahogany pot rack over the large island in the middle of the black-and-white checkered, high-gloss floor. God pulled a bottle of water from the stainless steel refrigerator and inched a few feet over to press his body against Day’s while he stirred a red sauce on the six-burner gas stove.

God buried his face in Day’s neck and whispered behind his ear. “That smells really good, sweetheart. What is it?”

God saw the corners of Day’s mouth turn up into a satisfied smile.

“It’s chicken cacciatore,” Day answered while scooping a small amount of sauce on the spoon. He turned around in God’s arms and put the steaming spoon to his mouth.

God sampled the rich sauce and moaned at the succulent flavors. It was absolutely delicious. “Mmm. That tastes really good.”

God looked around. “Is there something you want me to do?”

“Yeah. Stop moaning like that before I throw myself on that island and let you lick this sauce off my ass.” Day gave God a quick kiss and turned back around to his sauce.

“You’re a slut.” God laughed and jumped out of the way before Day could swat him with the messy spoon. God perched on one of the three breakfast stools looking over the kitchen and picked up a Guns & Ammo magazine that was lying there amidst the day’s mail. He flipped through the magazine, not really paying attention to the articles before asking Day, “So did you learn to cook that from your chef friend… what’s his name again?” God said nonchalantly. A potholder hit him in his forehead, making him look up from the magazine in mock horror.

“You know damn well what his name is, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to talk about Prescott Vaughan every time I cook us dinner.” Day glared at him around a sexy smile.

God winked and let his man get back to cooking.

“So how about a movie tonight?” God asked.

Day’s smile was bright with his response. “Yeah, babe, that sounds good.”

God wanted to take that beautiful smile and hide it somewhere where no one could ever take it away. Day loved him and God didn’t know why he’d never paid attention to it. Probably the same reason he didn’t realize he’d been falling for his best friend for so long. It’s like they say. Sometimes it takes almost losing someone to realize how much you’d miss them if they were gone.

“Go upstairs and wash up, you smell like the outdoors. Dinner will be ready in five,” Day said while pulling out fixings for a salad.

“Sure thing, dear.” God chuckled hoarsely. He was just out the door when he peeked his head around the corner. “I love your apron, wifey.” God laughed and ducked quickly to avoid the carrot flying at his head.

“What woman do you know that wears a NASCAR apron?” Day argued to God’s retreating back. “Plenty of men wear aprons, thank you very much. It’s all about keeping your clothes clean. It’s practical!” Day yelled even though God was upstairs.

God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn’t find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day’s master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but it felt empty. He looked in the first dresser; it held Day’s clothes. A second, identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked.

His and his dressers… really.

God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day’s items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, and sweats: each arranged neatly and in its own place.

He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he’d take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the tension forming behind his eyes. God had been completely on his own since he was eighteen. He’d never shared space with anyone—hell, no one had ever wanted to.

Fuck. Just last night Day was getting ready to fuck mini Justin Bieber, now he was cooking and cleaning for God and doing his damn laundry. He tried to shake off his anxiety. He never used the word love lightly. He meant what he’d said last night. God had only loved three people his entire life and for the past four years only one of them returned that love. Should he really tuck tail and run just because this was new territory? Hell no. All he did was unpack my suitcase. No big deal. He was just being hospitable. Damn sure is better than that seedy hotel. “My boyfriend’s just trying to make me comfortable.” He smirked and tried the term on his tongue again. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Get your ass down here and stop overthinking shit! Dinner is getting cold!” Day yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Why did he always forget how well his partner knew him? God threw on his clean T-shirt, pushed the drawer shut, and jogged down the stairs. Day was standing there looking embarrassed. A bright red flush was creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks. God stepped down to the last step and tilted Day’s chin up so he could look into beautiful hazel bedroom eyes.

Day shrugged. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable in my room. I have a better mattress than what’s in the guest room, it’s one of those memory foam ones… ya know… better on the back. Also the other room only has one dresser which I guess wouldn’t be a problem because you don’t have a ton of stuff but I have the better shower with the ultra-pressure showerhead, and my TV’s better too, I even have the Hustler’s porn channel. I’m not saying I watch it but if you want to, then—”

God put a thick finger over Day’s motor mouth, silencing his nervous babbling. He rubbed his finger back and forth over Day’s plump bottom lip. He leaned in and whispered, “Thank you,” before he kissed his boyfriend with as much love as he could put into a kiss. When he finally released Day’s mouth, he let his lips linger there and spoke against Day’s panting breath.

“I’m hungry. Feed me, sexy.”