Chapter 27

San Francisco, June 1975

"Dad, where do I put these?"

Bill pivoted on his dusty spot to see John holding up an enormous box of books, teetering under the weight.

"Oh, jeez, give that here, it"s too heavy..." he tutted, approaching his son who turned his back on him to put the box out of reach.

"I"m strong enough! Just... ah, there"s the bookshelf. How many medical tomes do you need anyway?" John huffed.

"Well, I am a doctor. Besides, I wrote some of these!"

John rolled his eyes at him but it was playful, these days. In the empty kitchen, Thomas and Richard were sharing a juice box while Helen and Margaret discussed the color of the paint for the living-room. Bill hadn"t had the heart to tell them that any advice he received was pointless, as there was very much someone else whose opinion he would pick over theirs.

Both his exes had thought it vitally important to accompany him on the move, despite the many arguments that followed, Bill insisting it was madness to fly all the way with all the children. ‘We'll do what we fucking want', Margaret had answered, and Bill had wondered how long there'd been a ‘Helen and Margaret' we. It could have been the increasing frequency of full family lunches at the diner, both women chatting together while the younger kids crawled over Bill and Bobby's lap. In the end he'd relented, agreeing that they could all fly while he and Bobby drove over. Then, John had announced that he would be traveling with his father with a tone that brooked no further argument.

He was grateful, still, to have such an entourage as they unloaded the truck that had come all the way from Memphis with the furniture he owned. He even brought his bed, for appearances" sake. Although he knew full well they"d be changing that mattress as soon as the ex-wives and kids were gone.

John heaved a groan as he put the box down. Bill"s throat went tight at the sight of him, as it tended to do more and more these days. He"d grown so fast, a massive spurt over the past summer that now left him barely two inches below his father"s height. Still a scrawny thing, though. Too young to be starting college next year.

He remembered their conversation, earlier in the truck.

"I"ve applied to San Francisco," John had said offhandedly, as if it was nothing.

Bill had clenched his hands around the steering wheel to avoid sending them both off the road.

"You have?"

"Yeah."

"And um... what subject, in the end?"

"Physics," John had shrugged, looking out the window.

Bill had nodded, and didn"t ask any more questions. He thought he had an inkling what this was about. Helen had recounted a few times how impossible it had been to unglue John from the television on the twentieth of July 1969. How he"d slowly filled his room with drawings of solar systems, rockets, and astronomy books.

Bill still couldn"t get the words out.

I"m proud of you.

But he hoped John could feel it, until his father would be brave enough to say it.

"Bill?" he heard Helen call from the bedroom.

He stopped next to John on the way, body bursting with all the things he thought he should do. In the end, he ruffled John"s hair and was answered with a groan and a whined ‘Daaad' in protest, but Bill didn"t miss the badly hidden grin that followed.

Helen was putting his shirts on hangers, of all things, when he walked into the bedroom.

"You don't have to do this anymore, you know."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I never had to in the first place. But I came here to help, so."

Bill took the shirt she was currently unfolding from her and hung it up before he went to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Is that why you called me?"

She rolled her eyes and promptly joined him.

"I guess I just wanted to ask… Will you be okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Bill frowned.

"Oh, I don't know…" Helen shrugged, "new town, new place, new job…"

She wasn't that wrong. At another time in his life, Bill would have been fretting himself into an anxiety attack, terrified by all the what ifs that could come with novelty.

"I… no, I'm fine. I haven't been this excited in a long time," he admitted, lowering his head to hide his smile.

He'd need to do more to fool the woman who had, after all, shared his life for fifteen years. Helen laid a cool hand on the back of his neck, and when his eyes darted over to her, she was sporting a tender smile.

"He's that special, is he?"

Of course he was. He could have gone on and on to explain why, but at this point, he didn't think he needed to.

"It's not that you weren't, Helen."

"I know, I know. We just never were meant for each other. I might not… ever understand but if it's him that you're meant to be with? I'll support you. If only to get to know this new, smiley version of you," she teased with a nudge into his side.

She was right. Bill could barely reign his grin in.

"I think… with time, I'll be ready to tell the boys, you know. I don't want to spend my life lying to them."

"There's no rush. They love you, and Bobby, and for now I think it's enough for them?"

Bill nodded, feeling a knot in his shoulder release.

"John told me about… applying for college here," he exhaled.

To his surprise, Helen fell back on the bed with a groan that was echoed by the springs of the mattress.

"I know… How is he already so…"

"Grown up?"

She nodded, palms pressed against her eyes. Bill shifted until he could lie on his side next to her.

"You're not… mad?"

Helen lifted one hand to squint at him.

"About what?"

"That he'd want to… move here, too."

Helen rolled over with a sigh, propping herself up on her elbows. She was beautiful, Bill realized now, about twenty years too late. Blond hair falling to her shoulders and the sharpness of her profile highlighted by the late afternoon sunlight pouring in from his window. She just had never inspired in him this same need to touch, to be close, that Bobby did.

"You know, Bill, I absolutely adore our boys. But they're fucking exhausting, all three of them. If he moves here, I'll miss him like crazy but it's only normal that he goes on to make a life for himself, and besides, better late than never he gets to really know his dad. I think he's missed that."

Bill nodded, heart clogging his throat.

"I'll do my absolute best from now on," he said.

"I know. You've already gotten much better. I guess getting fucked has loosened something in you that I never could have."

"Shhh!" Bill hissed as she started giggling.

Her hilarity was too infectious not to join in, and soon he was laughing too, feeling so light and unrestrained that it reminded him of that time he and Bobby smoked pot in a valley.

"Is it weird if I say I'm going to miss you, too?" Bill asked once they quieted down.

"Please don't. I told myself I wouldn't cry today. Not for my awful ex."

Bill beamed at her.

"Thank you for coming here today."

She rolled her eyes. "The kids were desperate to come see your new place, and I wasn't going to let them off on their own."

"Yeah, that's why you came," Bill teased back, earning himself a slap on the back of the head.

"I like you a lot better these days," Helen mused, having rolled onto her back.

"I like myself a lot more, too."

She shook her head, grinning. "See? You're still an asshole but at least you're funny now."

Bill let his smile split his face and hurt his cheeks. He found that he couldn't really restrain himself, these days.

"Do you think they'll be okay?"

"The kids? Yeah. They're sad you're living further away but with the plan we've made they'll still see you quite often. And you get to handle John too, which is a good deal for everyone."

Bill closed his eyes and let himself bask in the moment.

"I think we should head back soon," Helen broke the silence after a while.

"Right. I'll… go say bye to the kids."

"Take your time," Helen waved him out of his own room, remaining sprawled out on his mattress.

John and Thomas were busy playing with Agatha and, if he believed their guilty expressions, teaching her rude words, when he came back into the living room. He ignored their giggles and announced:

"I'm going to make a grocery run, does anyone want to come with me?"

John and Tom shook their heads and returned to making silly voices for Agatha's dolls, while the sound of feet hitting the ground at full speed made him turn around.

"Me!" Richard exclaimed, almost running into him.

Bill caught him with a hand on his head. Richard had grown too, but he was still the runt of the litter, and he meant that in only the tenderest of ways. It was a wonder, what Bobby's presence had done to his life. How getting to know his three boys, taking them on adventures and learning how to play video-games, had changed the way he considered them.

My boy, he thought with a tight throat, smiling down at Richard.

"Go put your shoes on, then."

They took the front stairs that let Bill leave his apartment without having to go through the ground floor, and started walking downhill. He would need time to adjust to the wild shape of this city, how incredibly different it was to everything he'd known before. But knowing he could hop on the tram with his son and take a five minutes journey to the store was priceless.

"What are we going to buy then?" Richard asked, playing with his tram ticket.

"Um… don't tell your mother, but it's whiskey."

Richard opened wide eyes and smiled up conspiratorily at him.

"I can keep a secret. If you get me some chocolate."

Bill laughed and held out his hand, gentle when he shook his son's smaller one.

"You'll be a good negotiator, Mister Mercer."

Richard gloated from the praise until they were standing in the small grocery shop down the hill that had more choice in liquor than it did in sweets. Richard still was happy to select two bars of chocolate. One he ate as soon as they left, the other he hid in his back pocket.

"If they're nice, maybe I'll share it with John and Tom," he explained.

I love you.

Bill grabbed his son under the armpits and swooped him up into a hug. Richard groaned for only a second, until he seemed to remember that his brothers weren't here to see him act all soft, and he relaxed in the embrace, wrapping his arms around Bill's neck. He was too big to be held up for long but they stayed there under the tram stop for a minute, until Bill's arms ached and he had to release him to the ground.

He cleared his throat. He may have been getting used to more openly displaying his affection, he still wasn't ready to let his son see him cry.

When they were back at the house, Richard stopped at the foot of the stairs, scuffing his shoe on the ground.

"Can I… say goodbye to Bobby, too?"

Bill sighed and touched him on the shoulder, guiding him to the red door that opened into the ground floor.

"Of course."

Bobby wasn't long to open it. He was wearing a white t-shirt and had rolled up the short sleeves up to his shoulders. He looked delightfully sweaty, almost as if he'd been opening boxes all afternoon.

"Hi," Bobby grinned at both of them, and barely had the time to take a breath before Richard was hugging his middle.

He beamed and touched a hand to the boy's hair, gently informing him that he was covered in paint and glue. Richard shook his head and mumbled something along the line of ‘don't care'.

When he managed to literally unstick his child from his lover, Bill smiled at Bobby and mouthed ‘later' before leading a sulking Richard upstairs. Everyone else was ready there, shoes and coats on, prepared to leave. His chest hurt for a second, and then he remembered. Even after everybody had left, he wouldn't be alone.

Helen and Margaret both kissed him on the cheek. John and Tom, though very unconvincing in their aloof act, shook his hand. Agatha merely waved at him, but it was still more than he'd been used to, since he'd started to see her more often, too.

"Please take care of yourselves," Margaret smiled, and nobody made note of the plural.

Bill waited until both cars had left the street, all children waving from the open windows, to close the door and listen to the silence.

Home.

It had started as a vague idea. Something Margaret had said on the day he'd told her all the truth. Maybe one day you'll find a solution to live together without drawing too much attention. Somewhere away from here.

It hadn't really left his mind after that, but he kept it all to himself. Bobby assured him that he was happy with what they had, and Bill himself wasn't in a rush to change that. Stability was new, and good, he found.

Then, long after that, he'd been reading the paper and his eyes stumbled across an advert. Vacancies at San Francisco hospital.

After that festival in the wild, he and Bobby had kept up with the news, following the marches, protests, elections and what it all meant to them.

So they knew about Castro Street, and its mayor. They knew about the atmosphere there, and though it wasn't perfect, and Bill doubted perfection was something they'd know in their lifetime… It was better than what they'd experienced until then.

The memory of Bobby's face when he'd explained his idea was something he would treasure until his deathbed.

Applying and getting the positions had been easy. It seemed that these days, a lot of things were, increasingly so.

He'd found the house while exploring the city, waiting to hear from Bobby after his own interview.

A two-story house, with two separate apartments. Two front doors, and mailboxes. And inside, a small staircase, hidden from view, an old service one that connected both floors. It had seemed too good to be true.

Until it hadn't, and he was standing in it, holding up a bottle of whiskey and ready to celebrate the one change in his life that he'd really wanted, and initiated.

He left the bottle on the table in his kitchen. He had other plans, first.

He went to his bedroom and immediately started dropping his clothes on the floor, until he was left in just his underwear.

There was a suitcase he hadn't allowed anyone to open. It was still locked with a combination only he knew. He knelt on the rug and brought it into his lap, fingertips sliding on the padlock until it clicked open.

Most of it was filled with medical journals, that he slowly pulled out and stacked on the floor next to him, until the real object of the secrecy appeared. He caught the stockings in his right hand, rubbing the skimpy threading of it between two fingers.

He was grinning to himself when he went to stand in front of the armoire and the mirror that covered its doors. It took him a few trials to stop getting his toes caught in the webbing, until both his legs were clad in black fishnet stockings that went up to mid-thigh.

He turned on himself, taking in the way the lingerie clung to him. He was a stark contrast of white and black, with the nets criss-crossing over his thighs, and the tight briefs he was still wearing. He'd let his lover take those off, at least.

Unholy, Bobby had said his thoughts were when he imagined him in this. Well, Bill certainly hoped he would deliver on them.

He considered putting on a robe for a short moment, and gave up with a shrug. There were no windows in the staircase connecting both their apartments. No one to see him but Bobby.

He went down on his tiptoes, short of breath from excitement and arousal, and stopped at the door that opened in Bobby's living room from the corridor.

He knocked three times.

Bobby was already smiling when he opened it. That was, until his gaze fell down and his mouth dropped open.

"Christ on a barbecue."

The creative curse pulled a surprised giggle out of Bill.

"That's a new one."

"So are these," Bobby exhaled, grabbing him by the waist and getting him inside.

Bill let himself be pressed against the door once it was closed, baring his neck so Bobby could really take him in.

"Fuck, when did you get those? How?"

"Do you want the where and why, too?"

Bobby didn't answer and started groping his thighs, eyes wide open with awe. Bill grinned at the ceiling and explained: "Turns out it's not that hard to pretend I'm looking for a sexy present to get my imaginary girlfriend."

The other man let out a desperate whine into his chest.

"You went to a shop and got these for yourself?"

"Yes."

He barely had a chance to breathe before Bobby was kissing him, sucking on his lower lip and palming at his stomach. When they parted, Bobby asked in a desperate moan:

"Can I fuck you in our bed?"

Bill curled his fingers in Bobby's hair and pulled him back to better look him in the eye.

"Which one?" he grinned.

Bobby tutted. "The nearest one."

Bill got a slap on the ass for his troubles when he turned around and headed for the downstairs bedroom. He meant to put on a show, stop at the foot of the bed and slowly roll his underwear down his legs but Bobby was already on him, pouncing and taking care of that himself. Bill yelped when his lover bit at the junction of ass and thigh, before pushing at his lower back.

"You're keeping the stockings on, right?" Bobby rasped behind him.

"What's the point of them otherwise?"

Bill fell to his elbows and knees on the mattress that was, truly, the superior one, offering himself up for Bobby's gaze and palms.

"Curtains," he gasped.

He didn't have to look back to know Bobby was rolling his eyes – the bedroom faced a little courtyard only they had access to – but his lover pulled away for a few seconds, shutting the curtains before he returned with his mouth on Bill's neck.

There was some shuffling and rustling, until Bobby was comfortably settled behind him and began to lick him open, softly playing with his balls. Bill melted further into the bed, letting out delighted sighs when he understood that Bobby intended to take his time with him.

"Fuck, look at you," Bobby moaned in between taking bites out of the back of his thighs.

Any other day, Bill would have withheld the snappy quip that came to his lips. Today, he was feeling free, high, and like he didn't want to hold himself back.

"The only thing I can see right now is my cock, and not a lot is happening to it."

Bobby fell back on his heels, laughing.

"God, who'd have thought you'd turn out to be such a demanding tart?" he mused, a rhetorical question if there ever was any, as he hopped off the bed to grab some lubricant.

Bill smiled to himself that this had been part of the essentials they'd unpacked on the first day.

His mouth fell open on a silent shout when two slippery fingers slid inside him, checking he was loose and relaxed, before Bobby withdrew and lined up his cock.

He pushed in slow and easy, giving short thrusts until he was buried deep inside him and relaxed his weight forward onto Bill's back. He kept on placing little bite marks wherever he could reach and for a minute, Bill forgot about his ignored erection.

"How am I ever gonna focus around you at work?" Bobby groaned in his neck.

"Maybe we can go back to fucking in closets," Bill gasped, toying with the idea of being the one on his knees for Bobby this time, sucking him in the dark.

"You're a menace," Bobby moaned, as if that was news.

"Fuck me."

"Fine," Bobby aimed for a stern grunt, but it came out as a light, airy almost-giggle.

Bill let himself be rocked forward and back until he was begging for a hand on his cock, and came laughing that they'd ruined the first set of bedding they'd ever used in this house.

Once clean and dressed again, they went to sit on the front porch. It would need furnishing and decorating too – Bill could see it cleaning up nicely with a few lanterns and two armchairs – but for now, the narrow bench and metal table were enough for them to sit and admire the sunset while sipping on a good whiskey.

The sun was setting over their little corner, and neighbors all around were coming home, timidly waving at the newcomers. There was still some leftover nervousness in Bill's belly at the idea of sharing his space with another again.

But this was Bobby. They'd tolerated living in the same bedroom for seven years. And if it got too much, sometimes, well he could still retreat upstairs until he missed him too much again.

"I can't quite believe this," Bill whispered at no one.

Bobby nudged his shoulder with a playful grin. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and be back in St. Louis with Poppy for sole company."

"By the way, where is he?"

The poor cat had apparently mewled himself hoarse all through the drive from St. Louis, and had disappeared as soon as he was let out of his carrier. Albert, as unanimously decided by Richard, was to stay in Memphis with Mrs Heigel, who probably liked the mutt a lot more than Bill anyway.

Bobby shrugged. "Probably hiding under some furniture until I lure him out with a can of tuna. Don't worry, he'll come out."

Bill hummed and leaned his weight into his companion. They had all of tomorrow, Sunday, to rearrange their home as they pleased, recover from the journey and move, until they got to their new positions at the hospital come Monday morning.

He closed his eyes for a second, smiling to himself as he imagined them getting into one car, because they shared an address, and because he didn't expect anybody to bat an eye that they shared transportation, either. It only made sense, and nobody had to know that of the two apartments they rented, they only planned to use one.

A sloshing sound made him look to find Bobby topping up their drinks. He turned on the bench to face Bill, holding up his glass.

"Should we toast to something?"

He straightened up with a weary groan. His back, thighs and ass ached, and he wasn't sure how much was due to the move and how much to the enthusiastic sex that had followed.

"To… new opportunities."

"That's a bit vague, isn't it?" Bobby wrinkled his nose. "To… this house."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Might as well toast to the bed, then. To old age?"

Bobby pinched him on the thigh. "To fishnet stockings."

Bill laughed, full-bellied and joyous.

"To us," he concluded and this time, Bobby nodded and brought their glasses together.

It was as close to a kiss as they'd share in public. It wasn't time for that yet. Maybe one day, Bill hoped, they'd see a world where their lips interlocking would shock as little as the sound of whiskey glasses being clinked together.

But he didn't exactly mind. All of this was so much better than anything he'd expected to experience. He was fifty-five and there, smiling at the man who was playing footsie with him under the table, he felt that, at last, his life had begun.