Page 253 of Untouchable

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Parker findshimself wide awake at four in the morning, feeling bright-eyed and well-rested considered he’d slept about eighteen hours yesterday. Harp is fast asleep, his arms bearhugged around Parker, and Parker lays there for a little while, just enjoying the steady, soft rhythm of Harp’s breath, the feeling of his heart’s slow thud against Parker’s back.

Finally, though, he gets restless, and he extracts himself from Harp’s grip. Harp, still soundly sleeping, makes a discontented noise, and Parker smiles, tucking a pillow into Harp’s arms where Parker had just been. Harp squeezes the pillow tighter, nuzzling it, and, laughing softly, Parker slips downstairs.

It’s too early to make breakfast, so he curls up in the first floor guest bedroom with the dogs and plays games on his phone until he’s thoroughly bored of it. He’s only killed two hours, and everyone is still fast asleep—and probably will be for a while—so Parker retrieves Harp’s laptop and tries to chip away at one of his online continuing education courses he’s completing for his ongoing certification. It’s somehow boring and difficult all at once, and he’s still frowning at the screen, trying to parse the jargon-filled practice quiz he’s taking, by the time the sun comes up.

He decides that it’s a reasonable time to start breakfast. He knows Gil is asleep one floor below, and so he tries to be quiet, but as soon as the dogs see Parker head into the kitchen, they’re thumping around, pawing and vying for first shot at the kibble. Parker rolls his eyes, whispering for them to be more respectful of Gil as he feeds them.

Humming softly to himself, he sets about trying to cook an elaborate breakfast—or, at least, as elaborate as he can manage, which ends up being bacon, eggs, and pancakes. The first few pancakes he makes are shameful, and he ends up feeding them to the dogs to hide the evidence. It turns out better than he expects, especially thanks to the thirty YouTube videos he’d watched that morning about how to properly scramble eggs.

Gil emerges from the basement looking worse for wear and Parker wonders how long the two of them stayed up drinking the night before.

"Morning," Parker says, cutting his normal cheerfulness by at least 60% for Gil's benefit. "I made some breakfast if you're hungry."

"So I heard," Gil says, his voice like gravel. "Is there coffee?"

“Oh, sorry,” Parker says. “I… tried to be quiet but Petunia isn’t exactly known for her delicacy.” He casts the slumbering mastiff a pointed glance. “And, yeah, coffee’s over there.”

"Hope we didn't keep you up last night, doing the whole bonding thing in the living room," Gil says as he pours a cup of black coffee. "Do you know where Harp keeps his cigarettes?"

“Haha, no, I was… pretty much passed out,” he says. “Um, I’m not sure… maybe check in his coat? Or that little ledge thing right by the door.”

Gil finds an open package in Harp's coat along with a lighter. He runs water into a dirty mug for an ashtray and then returns to the kitchen table, prying a window open and lighting a cigarette.

"So. Did y'all have anything planned for today?"

“I’m not sure, actually,” Parker says. He turns to Gil, then turns away, then turns back to him, biting his lip. “Uh, I think, um, that… Harp usually smokes outside? I mean, um, I don’t know if he cares? But, uh, just in case? I dunno—”

"Seriously? I noticed he wasn't smoking in here yesterday and I didn't see ashtrays, but he smoked like a chimney inside the last time I was here." He doesn't seem upset to be corrected by Parker—just genuinely confused. "I guess I'll just, uh, try to blow this out the window. I hella don't feel like standing out in that wind right now."

“Oh, okay,” Parker says. “Um, do you… want any food?”

Parker tries to remember if he’d ever seen Harp smoke inside, and realizes he can only recall one time—their first session together, when Harp had seemed so distant and so cruel, when the gulf between them had seemed unnavigable. He smiles to himself, thinking of how far they’ve come since that tense standoff.

"Yeah, I'll take some of whatever. I'll get it in a second, you don't have to—" but Parker is already making him a plate. Gil frowns.

Parker does his best to plate things nicely, the way Harp always does with the meals he cooks, instead of just plopping things on the plate. He makes a neat stack of the three best pancakes he’s made, with a little pat of butter on top, and lays out the most attractive looking pieces of bacon beside it. He scoops some eggs from the pan onto the plate, and, as a final touch, makes a small happy face with ketchup on the eggs. He grabs the syrup from the fridge and brings it over to the table, setting the plate down in front of Gil.

“Merry… day after Christmas?” he says, going to plate his own meal—with far less effort.

"Oh my God?" Gill says in an astonished tone. He snickers and Parker turns away. When he turns back with his own plate, Gil has his phone out, taking pictures of the plate from every angle. "Sorry, I need to put this on Instagram more than I need to breathe right now."

Parker sits as far away from Gil as he can. At least he's put his cigarette out. Parker wonders if the picture is going on IG with a note about how thoughtful it is or about what a vapid twink his big brother's new boyfriend is. Parker frowns and decides to go with the first one. He doesn’t want to be someone who assumes the worst in people.

"Thanks Parker," Gil says, finally locking his phone and looking up. His expression is inscrutable as he digs into the breakfast with surprising gusto.

“You’re welcome,” he says. Bo keeps weaving himself around Parker’s ankles, angling for a treat, and so Parker slips him a small piece of bacon. Of course, Gunny and Petunia don’t miss that, and soon he has three dog faces drooling on him.

“Oh, stop manipulating me,” he tells them sternly as he gives them each a section of bacon and shoos them away.

"You know, I read this story on Washington Post at like 4 a.m. last night about this woman whose dogs dragged her into the forest and ate her,"Gil says, matter of factly. "She raised them both from puppies. Yikes, you know? You forget what they really are, at the end of the day."

Parker immediately stuffs a bite of pancake into his mouth to hide how horrified he is. He chews and swallows, but it still doesn’t give him enough time to formulate a good response.

“Yeah,” he says stupidly. “I, uh—one time Harp and I were hiking at night, and we were up on this, um… ledge thing? And we saw a coyote near the house. You saw the cat house, right? We thought it was, like, going to eat the kittens, or something bad, so Harp had this great idea to call the house and wake the dogs up… The whole thing was a nightmare but they all started barking and scared the coyote away.”

He takes a big sip of his coffee and nearly chokes.

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