Page 39 of Throw Down

Briar gave an embarrassed little cough and said, “Anyway, she’s sleeping on my couch now.See? The neighbor feeds her and takes her for walks when I work late.”

He pulled his cell phone from the obscenely tight back pocket of his pants.With a few taps, he’d called up an app with footage from one of those wi-fi security systems.Derek peered over his shoulder, taking in the grainy, grayscale image of Sabbath stretched out on her back across two cushions.Her paws were crooked up and her tongue was lolling, like she was happily dreaming of belly scratches.

“Thank you,” Derek said, voice thick.“That means…a lot.”

Briar only smiled, tucking away his phone.“It’s not for keeps. I’m just hanging onto her until you realize how silly you’re being.”

Derek shook his head, but he bit his tongue.He didn’t want to start another argument.Not tonight.

They settled side-by-side on the blanket, and Derek taught him how to bait the hook with practiced ease.

“These fish are getting a better meal than I did,” Briar remarked, frowning as he sandwiched a chunk of raw steak between a piece of stinky cheese and chicken liver.The tip of his tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, drawing Derek’s attention to his lips.They were strangely shiny, like he’d put on some kind of balm for his fancy date.Derek couldn’t stop staring.

“They deserve a good meal,” Derek replied, “since they’re going to be our meal when we’re done.”

“Is that what you normally do?”

He shrugged. “These days I mostly catch and release.But there were plenty of times when what I hooked meant the difference between everyone back home getting enough to eat or not.”

“That must have been really hard,” Briar said.His eyes were large and solemn, reflecting moonlight.“Makes me grateful that I only had to worry about feeding myself.”

“Worry is worry.” Derek met his eyes, and this time he didn’t look away.“I’m just glad the kids never had to shoulder the same burdens you and I did.”

Briar edged closer, and the sides of their hands accidentally brushed.“Your siblings, right? You talk about them like they’re your children.”

“They are.” Derek smiled grimly, and in one smooth motion, cast his line into the water. Briar’s hook sank next to his, and they settled back to watch.A faint breeze picked up, smelling of rich, damp earth and the subtle mung of swampy water.

The silence was companionable, but Briar couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without making a noise.He hummed and bobbed his head to a tuneless melody Derek didn’t recognize.

“You’re gonna scare off all our bites at this rate,” Derek warned.

“Sorry,” Briar said contritely.He paused, sounding embarrassed and a little vulnerable when he admitted, “I’ve never been fishing before.”

Derek wasn't surprised, but he couldn’t imagine that kind of life.Not even for a city boy.

“Ever?” he asked incredulously.

“Nope. I didn’t even know night fishing was a thing around here.”

Derek nudged him lightly, shoulder to shoulder, and said, “It’s one of the only good parts about living here.There’s something about the quiet that makes all your troubles fade to the background for a few hours.It’s just you, the water, the stars.”

“And good company?” Briar asked.There was a soft, hopeful note to his voice.More obvious than he probably intended.So nakedly honest it made Derek wince.But he couldn’t bring himself to slap him down again.

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching out to cup the soft fluff of Briar’s hair.“Good company.”

For the next few hours, Derek patiently taught him the ins and outs of fishing.Briar was a quick study, far more perceptive than he let on, though he seemed more interested in cracking jokes than catching anything.At least until he hooked something for the first time.Then he turned into a beast, hopping around excitedly as he reeled, a ridiculous spectacle in leather pants and bare feet.

“I got it! I got it!” he crowed.

A waterlogged branch broke the surface, and his face fell.Derek snickered. With great dignity, Briar handed Derek his rod so he could cut the line.Then he collapsed back on the blanket, arms spread out dramatically, and declared, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“It just takes time,” Derek said mildly as he cut the line and set Briar’s fishing pole aside.Briar's wooden catch bobbed and then sank in the silvery ripples of the lake.“You’ll have better gear and be better prepared next time.”

“You saying the fish don’t admire my fashion sense?” Briar asked, plucking at his plastic pants.They’d been sticking uncomfortably to his thighs for the past hour, and Derek had done his best not to notice how they squeaked when he moved.

“Not so much,” Derek said, diplomatically, he thought.

Briar wrinkled his nose and looked downcast.“They probably weren't the best choice, but they'd been sitting in the bottom of my drawer for a year.I could hear them crying.”

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