Page 65 of Fortress
Holy shit. What if Toby was thinking about exploring past the PG rule? About how to ask Jake for help with that? What the hell would Jakesay?He'd reinforced the PG boundary six months ago, but Toby had become so confident andfearlessin approaching Jake, touching him, tugging him in for a kiss. Did that mean they were ready for more? How could Jake know it was safe? If Toby askedright now, just for help with PG-13 stuff and how to feel good and safe—Jesus Christ, what they could be doingtonight—no, fuck that, they wouldn't have to go back to Roger's at all, they could get a room in town—
Toby turned to him. “Can we go to a museum? An—an art museum?”
Jake nearly choked. It took him an effort to catch his breath and another moment to be sure of his composure. “Sure thing, Toby.”
“We—we don't have to,” Toby said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. “It was just an—”
“Nope, art museum it is.” Jake smiled, though he didn't dare take his eyes off the road. “You got one picked out?”
“No.” Toby's eyes were fixed on him, Jake could feel it. “It doesn't have to be soon. Or even an art museum, science would be cool, too. Just whenever we have time and one's nearby. It's not a big deal.”
“Sure it is,” Jake said gamely. He'd been in a couple art museums after hours, with the lights off and every nerve on edge for the sound of a guard or a ghoul. He hadn't really looked at the exhibits, unless they contained bones or weaponry. He wasn't sure what else there was, or if he'd like it, but even hours of boredom would be worth it to watch Toby's face. “Let's do it. Anything you want, Toby. If it's on your bucket list, that's what we're gonna do. Oh, hey, there's another thing I've been meaning to get you. I'll show you when we get back.”
After unloading the groceries, Jake borrowed Roger's camera and held it up for Toby to see. “Gotta update your ID.”
Toby stared hard at the camera for a long minute, then transferred his intense focus to Jake. “I've changed since the last one you took, haven't I?”
“Yep,” Jake said, pinning one of Roger's spare white sheets to the curtain rods for a background. “Just a little.”
Toby nodded and set his shoulders back. “Okay.”
Taking the photo went a hell of a lot easier than last time. Toby didn't look even a little afraid of the camera now. He faced the lens steadily, chin up. Jake would've liked a cheeky smile too, but maybe that wasn't the best for a state ID photo anyway. He'd see about stealing one or two for himself some other time.
Roger processed the new ID (Toby looking on curiously as they used the laminator and laid some rudimentary hologramming), and the finished product was at least as good as the one Jake had made last year.
Toby spent a few minutes studying the new card, then holding it side by side with the old one. “It's better, isn't it?”
Jake knew Toby wasn't referring to the card's ability to pass inspection. “Hell yeah. Plus it's easier to say you're eighteen when you're less than a year away.”
Toby nodded, returning his attention to his first ID. He gave a quick shudder and placed the card onto the table, picture down. “We better get rid of this one.”
“Give it here.” Jake palmed it and slid it into his pocket, but he had no intention to destroy it just yet. As much as he hated to remember the early days, he suspected there'd be times when he'd need a physical reminder of just how far they'd come. Looking at that first ID picture he'd taken of Toby would be as good as a sock to the jaw.
The reminder wasn't just for bad times, though, when it seemed like they'd gotten nowhere at all and were only spinningtheir wheels in mud. He wanted it so he'd never forget where they'd started.
Toward the end of the day, Toby finished up some schoolwork he'd insisted on doing even though it was a holiday weekend andsummerbesides, and Jake joined him on the porch, polishing off a beer and a bag of chips.
Roger appeared behind them in the doorway. “Hey, Jake, come in for a second?” His tone was too casual to feel easy.
Toby looked up, wary and alert, but Roger waved a hand in dismissal. “We won't be more than a minute or two. Just have to talk to Jake about some old business.”
Toby watched them with narrowed eyes but didn't ask questions. He turned back to his books as they moved back into the cooler darkness of the house.
Jake faced him and tried to ignore the twist in his stomach. “What's so bad that you couldn't say it in front of Toby?”
Roger leaned against his desk, crossing his arms, expression set and neutral. “I got a message from Barbara at the Crossroads Inn, and it reminded me of something I hadn't wanted to ask with you boys out on the road, not over unsecured lines.”
The tension in Jake's gut expanded, but he braced himself with a smile. “You know me, I'm a huge fan of personal questions.”
“You hear anything from the ASC lately? Since they were on your tail after the hospital, I mean.”
Jake's smile dropped so fast he swore he could hear it hit the floor. “No. Why?”
Roger rubbed at the back of his neck. “Nothing. Probably nothing. I just thought—well, it don't matter what I thought, because you haven't.”
“No, Roger.” Jake took a step forward, bringing Roger's focus back to him. “Why the hell would you bring it up if it were nothing? You think me and Toby are—”In danger, he wantedto say, orscrewed, orshould be counting our days as borrowed time, but he didn't say any of that. He didn't have to.
But Roger shook his head. “It's not that bad. Just people asking questions about an unidentified freak who entered Freak Camp the same year Tobias did. I don't know more than that, but I figured you didn't want me to bring it up cold with—” He nodded back toward the porch where Toby was still bent over his books.
