Page 241 of Untouchable

The snow has slackedoff today and begun to melt in the spots of the lawn that are getting sun.

Harp's first cigarette of the day hits him wrong and he ends up putting it out halfway through. He doesn't want to taste like cigarettes the next time he kisses Parker, anyway.

He stands, lingering, not ready to go inside even though he’s done with the idea of smoking. The wind picks up and Harp notices a loose section of fencing at the cow pen. He tries to ignore it, but after two solid minutes of pretending nothing is amiss, Harp sighs and skulks down the stairs to gather what he needs to fix the fence.

It won’t take any longer than smoking would, he tells himself.

But ten minutes later, his work at the cow pen leads to Harp noticing a leaky pipe.

And half an hour after that, Harp realizes that he needs to get the cat house freshened up.

* * *

Once he getsthe fire going, Parker curls up on the couch, looking absently out at where the icicles are slowly dripping on the eaves. It’s strange to think about where he’d be if he weren’t here—at about this time, he’d probably be pulling on a nice sweater and trying to get the muscle in his jaw to stop twitching from stress as they all got ready to go to his uncle’s for Christmas Day.

But instead, he’s in a pair of sweatpants and swaddled in one of Harp’s flannels, curled up on the couch in front of a fire he built himself.

And last night, he’d gotten really, truly, fantastically fucked.

All in all, it’s one of the better Christmases he’s had.

He can’t help smiling to himself.

He’s still drifting in thought when he hears Gil come up the stairs, and he tenses slightly, still worried—despite everything Harp had said—about making a good impression with Harp’s brother.

"Took your lead and went for pajamas," Gil says, wandering in and giving Parker an assessing look. He's dressed in dark sweatpants that are somehow tailored, thick hiking socks, and a perfectly-faded patched flannel over a t-shirt Parker recognizes from the downstairs closet.

Gil produces a phone from his pocket and looks down at it in dismay. "What's the wifi password?"

“It’s, um—Bo loves Parker, all one word, all lowercase,” Parker says, blushing. “Harp had to reset it a few weeks ago so I, uh… made that the new password. The network is… well, the only one up here, I guess.”

Gil doesn't smile as he enters the password. His phone buzzes with multiple notifications as soon as the network connects and he pads back into the kitchen, tapping furiously on his phone.

"Um, do you want anything? I'm getting another cup of coffee," Gil calls from the kitchen. "Where's Harp?"

“Oh, I’m good,” Parker says. “He’s, um—” Parker isn’t sure if Gil knows Harp smokes, or if Harp cares if Gil knows. “He stepped outside for a moment.”

Gil returns after a moment cupping a mug between his hands.

"Oh my God. Is that code for smoking a joint or something?"

He looks around the living room, trying to decide what to do next before settling cross-legged into the corner of a loveseat across from Parker.

“No—” Parker says quickly. “It’s, he’s just out, y’know…” He trails off, waving his hand vaguely, as if this somehow answers Gil’s question.

Gil snorts. "I can see why you love the dogs so much if he just wanders off and leaves you alone. Does he even have a tv?"

Something about Gil makes Parker feel flustered, as if he’s somehow managed to dig himself into a hole without realizing it. It seems like everything Parker says ends up coming off in the worst way possible.

“I don’t mind,” Parker says. “He doesn’t, um… Ah, no, I don’t think he has a TV? We’ve watched movies and stuff but just always on his computer?”

"Cool. I guess I should be thankful for the wifi," Gil says, flat, looking down at his phone again. "Sooo. How long have y'all known each other?"

“Our first session was… early September, I think?” Parker says. It’s strange—it’s only been a little under four months, but the number does nothing to communicate what a tectonic shift the fall has been—for Parker, and for Harp. He hates how trivializing three and a half months sounds, how small talk can’t possibly encompass what Harp means to him.

"Oh wow. It's cool that you decided to spend Christmas together," Gil says in an inscrutable tone. "Are you not close with your family either?"

“I’m, uh… taking a little space,” Parker says. He realizes, though, that if anyone would understand, it was Gil, who came from the same family as Harp. “They’re… not great. Harp actually really helped me, y’know? They’re really shitty to me and he helped me… learn how to stand up for myself.”

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