Page 243 of Untouchable

"I'm gonna go make sure he didn't fall down a well or something," Gil says, vaulting up and walking over to his boots.

Gil marches out quickly, leaving Parker behind and shouting for Harp the moment the back door closes behind him. Bo, not recognizing Gil's voice, maybe, starts barking hysterically and skitters out into the kitchen.

“Bo, get over here, you little maniac,” Parker says, and Bo races into the living room, hurling his little sausage body against the couch. Parker laughs and pulls Bo into his lap.

“I’m not sure he likes me, Bo,” he says sadly as Bo rolls over, presenting his belly for belly rubs. Parker obliges.

* * *

Harp isflat on his back in the barn when he hears someone approach from outside and realizes that he has no idea what time it is.

"Ah, fuck me," he says under his breath. "Parker? I'm sorry, I..." Gil appears in the doorway. "Oh, hey."

“What are you even doing in here?” Gil says, looking around the barn and stepping gingerly inside, as though he’s avoiding piles of animal poop.

"I realized I have an exposed pipe out here and then I guess I lost track of time. I mean, it wasn't a real problem yet, but I saw the same thing happen at that animal shelter where I've been doing some work, and if it can happen there, it can definitely happen here." Harp keeps going, talking about how it wouldn't have been as bad for him, of course, because he doesn't have animals sleeping in the barn right now. He brushes himself off and realizes he's rambling. Gil is looking down at his phone but Harp knows there's no wifi signal this far out. He clears his throat.

"Anyway. I didn't mean to abandon you both. Did you talk to Parker?"

Gil snorts. “He must be phenomenal in bed.”

"Jesus, Gil. How's that any of your business? What even makes you say that?"

Gil goes to lean against the wall, stops, inspects it for dirt, and decides against it.

“He might actually be the most boring person I’ve ever had the misfortune of talking to,” Gil says casually. “I asked him what he did for fun and he told me going to the gym and hanging out with friends. That’s like saying your favorite food is… soup.”

"Whoa, hey, I like soup," Harp says. "Don't throw a whole food group under the bus because you don't like my boyfriend."

“Oh, come on,” Gil says. “I’m just kidding. I’m not saying soup is bad, it’s just… not interesting. I don’t… not like him. I just think he’s… kind of an idiot. He’s got these like… glassy cow-eyes, don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”

"Well, if I'd have known you were coming I could've given him notice that he needs to brush up on his talking points to impress you," Harp snaps. "Don't call him an idiot."

Harp brushes past Gil, grabbing his coat and fumbling in the pocket for a cigarette. He thumps against the back of the barn, facing the house. He's mad—unreasonably mad—that Gil is being so judgmental. But he doesn't know if he's being too defensive because it's Parker or because he wants Gil to like Parker so badly.

“Whoa, whoa, Harp, I wasn’t being serious,” Gil says, scrambling after him. “Christ, learn to take a joke.”

"I'm not dating Parker because of how he is in bed, not that I should have to say that out loud to you," Harp says around the end of his cigarette, trying to light it in the wind. "And it should go without saying that calling my boyfriend an idiot isn't funny."

Gil holds up his hands in surrender, frowning deeply.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. “I’m sorry. Didn’t realize it was… such a sore subject or whatever.”

"It's not a sore subject," Harp says. He finally gets the damned thing lit and takes a long draw. "Were you rude to him while I was out here?"

Gil snakes his hand into Harp’s pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes, stealing one and deftly lighting it. Harp stares at him.

“Since when do you smoke?” he says and Gil laughs.

“Oh, everyone in Portland smokes,” Gil says, shrugging. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Harp says. “It’s not good for you.” Gil rolls his eyes.

“Hi, pot,” he says. “It’s me, kettle. Nice to meet you. And for the record, no, I wasn’t rude. We just talked about… god I don’t even remember, it was just soboring.”

"That's because you were making him make small talk, I'm sure," Harp says. "If you gave him half a chance you'd see he's hilarious—not that I expect you to if you've already made up your mind over the course of two conversations."

“God, Harp, where the fuck did your sense of humor go? I know you’re mad that I surprised you, but you could at least act like you’re happy to see me. You know, your brother? The one you love?”

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