Page 237 of Untouchable

Parker grins at Harp, but Harp barely even seems to register the joke.

“So. Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

"Um," Gil laughs nervously. "Who's Bo?"

"My dog, asshole," Harp cuts in. "Do you even listen when I talk to you?"

"Oh my God, how can I be expected to keep up with your animals and projects?" Gil says dramatically.

Harp laughs and it's clear that they're joking, that this must be how they talk to each other when they're comfortable. "You're such a self-centered prick."

"I learned from the best."

Harp scoffs.

"You live on a fucking mountain and your boyfriend is a person you hired to come see you. You're, like, the definition of self-centered,” Gil says.

Parker blinks.

Your boyfriend is a person you hired to come see you.

Is that how Harp had described Parker to Gil?

“Maybe I’m biased,” Parker says, forcing a laugh, “but I definitely know he’s the least self-centered person I know. Then again, my family is full of assholes, so the bar’s pretty low, I guess.”

"Ah," Gil says without missing a beat. "I guess you two at least have that in common."

"Hey, you don't have to frame our relationship so fucking weird," Harp says sternly. "Parker's not a person I hired to come see me any more than a plumber is somebody I pay to be my friend."

Gil scoffs. "Ah, yeah, sorry. I was being crude." He frowns. "Do you, uh, get it for free now?"

Parker’s mouth drops open in surprise, and he catches it a moment too late—he knows Harp had seen. He looks down at his cinnamon roll, tearing a chunk off of it though his mouth has gone bone dry. Parker’s proud of what he does, and he’s worked hard to amass the skill set he has now. He hates when people act as though a massage is something anyone can do with competence, something that’s not worth paying someone for.

And worse, he hates the suggestive nature of Gil’s comment. It’s not that Parker cares if someone thinks he’s a sex worker—there’s no shame in that. But he hates when people sexualize his profession. Everyone who jokes about massage parlors and happy endings seems to think they’re the first person to ever mention it to Parker, and he was thoroughly exhausted by the crude remarks before he’d even finished his schooling.

Parker knows he’s hypersensitive—and probably hadn’t even construed Gil’s comment right, but that cavalier attitude towards what Parker does for a living has lead to uncomfortable situations, whether it’s being shamed at Thanksgiving by his parents for having such a “low” profession or getting propositioned by a client as he’s trying to work.

“Harp’s been making great progress with his therapy,” Parker says in a carefully cultivated bland tone, trying to emphasize that his dating life and Harp’s treatment plan are two very separate things. “I’m super proud of him.”

* * *

"I still bookthrough Rocky Mountain if that's what you mean," Harp says, several beats too late for it to land with any sort of meaning. "And actually, we keep missing sessions between the car wreck and Thanksgiving."

Parker frowns for a moment and Harp knows he’s let his boyfriend down.

“Y’know, I’ll talk to Dr. Breen about crediting your account—you’ve missed a few sessions and it’s pretty much been because of me each time, which isn’t fair—I really don’t want you to lose any of the progress you’ve made.”

Harp does his best to undash his heart—instead of being disappointed in Harp, Parker’s mind is instantly wrapped up in thinking about Harp’s treatment plan. He’s perfect. As usual.

Harp smiles and puts his hand over Parker's on the table. "I didn't say that to make you feel bad. Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll catch up, and I don't mind the excuse to drag you up the mountain."

"I still can't believe Parker drags you off the mountain," Gil says, eyebrow raised again.

"Why do you say that?" Harp asks. "He's worth it. And some parts of Mink Creek aren’t that bad."

Gil looks at Harp like he's an alien. "The last time I was here, we tried to go into town to get burgers and you had a total freakout. I mean, not to drag you right now but you definitely had the mother of all panic attacks before we even got our food."

"I'm working on it," Harp says, frowning.

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