The Curative Pt. 02

"Ryan." Logan's voice reverberated through my dream. We were walking through a field, well, I was walking, and Logan was riding on the back of a very large Mason. He was shirtless and sweaty, and he looked like an erotic Loki riding into battle on the back of Fenrir. He pulled me up to sit in front of him, caressing my sides with his large hands, leaning forward as if to kiss me, wiggling his finger into my bellybutton... Wait, what?

"Ryaaaaan."

"Wha-ah! Stop it, stop it!" I was yanked from my Norse Logan dream by real Texas Logan attacking my ribs. His fingers found all of my tender spots and soon I was a boneless panting heap sprawled across Logan's lap and the couch.

I glared as evilly as I could up at his grinning face. He chuckled and planted a kiss on my forehead before disentangling himself and reaching for his wheelchair.

"Your mom called again." I groaned. "Either tell her to fuck off or just let her visit, because I'm getting mighty tired of her calling every three fucking hours."

"I'm sorry Logan, I haven't seen her in 8 years, I don't know why she's being so insistent." Thinking of the damned woman made every bit of playfulness I had felt with Logan drain away.

Why the fuck was she trying to get back into my life now?

Fingers drifted through my hair, calming me, and I instinctively nuzzled against them. Lips brushed across my forehead again before settling on my own. It was gentle, not the rough and desperate crush that had been our first kiss.

"I like this side of you, kid. I almost don't remember the nervous idiot that walked in here with his damn girl dog asking for a room."

"You like Bailey." I reached up and twisted my fingers through his.

He smirked. "Nah, you're just lucky Oscar has the hots for her."

The subject of our conversation came bounding into the room, yipping excitedly. She leapt over Mason, lying at the base of the couch, and straight onto my groin.

"Bailey, no! Ohhhh."I shoved Bailey off and curled around my poor organs. Logan was laughing hysterically, the bastard had no sympathy. I briefly considered giving him a glimpse of what twenty pounds of dog straight on your balls felt like, but thought better of it. Even in a wheelchair, Logan could run me down easily.

Instead I scooped Bailey up and settled her, gently, into lap.

"What do you think I should do about my mom?" I asked, focused on straightening out Bailey's floppy ears.

Logan's laughter died down and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Will you tell me why you don't want her here? I mean, she seems nice enough."

I snorted, "She's polite. Not nice. I don't think she even knows what the word means."

"Well, okay. Tell me, Ry. I wanna know more 'bout you. You know about my ma and my brothers and Texas, but I don't know hardly anything about you."

I blushed at the reminder of the night we had spent on the couch. We'd been watching another one of his Arnold movies, and somehow I ended up curled against him, my head on his chest. I'd asked about Texas, and he'd regaled me with stories of his two brothers and how much hell they'd all put Logan's ma through. I learned about how Oaks were the best trees to climb, and how to wrangle a rattlesnake without getting bit.

He told me about how their dad had left when his youngest brother was born, unable to deal with the pressure of three kids. His mom had raised them on her own from then on, and moved them all to Colorado after Logan had his accident.

I'd fallen asleep listening to his voice, and had woken up curled safely within his arms, though slightly uncomfortable from lying on the stiff couch all night long.

I felt guilty now, realizing that I really hadn't told him anything about myself. He had kept to his promise and had trusted me with my prescriptions, but I had yet to give him anything in return.

I glanced up, nervously holding eye contact. "I... I came out when I was sixteen." Logan nodded encouragingly. "I don't know what I was expecting, I should have known it wouldn't go well. My father didn't even look at me. He j-just stared out the window while my mother told me how 'Those people are disgusting' and how she would n-not have any s-son of hers become one."

I heard Logan's intake of breath, "Ry...."

I waved away his hand when it reached for mine. "I'm not done."

"They sent me to The Leviticus Curative, a homosexual rehabilitation camp in north Florida. I spent two months there, seeing counselors who swore they would 'make me better', and undergoing treatment after treatment of drugs to see which held my desires at bay. I had several treatments of ECT-"

Logan gasped, "Ryan!" He rolled towards me, ignoring my insistence that he stay away, and took my face in his hands. His fingers wiped away tears that I hadn't noticed rolling down my cheeks. He gathered me against his chest kissed my face all over, then took my shaking hands and kissed them too.

I sighed and curled into him, letting him comfort me. Unfortunately though, I still wasn't finished.

"For the next two years, I went through continual drug treatments and random visits to the camp whenever my mom thought I was 'acting too gay'. My parents set up rules so that I wouldn't encounter any temptation, and so that they wouldn't get humiliated in the press. I wasn't allowed to go outside, they hired tutors to help me finish school, and they told all of my friends that I had decided to finish up school in Virginia with my aunt and her sons. I applied for CSU in secret with the help of one of my tutors. He helped me get everything I needed to get out. And the day I turned 18, I did."

I could feel Logan shaking underneath me, his fingers clenching and unclenching my shirt rapidly.

"How-fuck! Ry, how could they do that to you?" Logan's face was a picture of rage and confusion. "They're your parents for fuck's sake!"

"They weren't so much my parents as they were rising stars on the political scene. When I left, my father was the Florida Secretary of State. Now he's the governor. Next he'll probably campaign for senate. He's staunchly republican, and if my being gay had gotten out, his whole party would've laughed at him. So they kept me out of the way."

Logan sputtered. "I don't give a flying sideways fuck about senate or governor or any of that shit. They should be in jail!"

I laughed weakly and buried my face into Logan's neck. "That's why they haven't contacted me for 8 years. They found me a few months after I moved, but I threatened to contact every media source in Florida and give them a full recount of my story if they called again."

We sat for a few moments in silence, Logan's arms never wavering in their tight hold.

Suddenly, our sad silence was interrupted, yet again, by the phone.

Riiiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

I moved to get up but Logan clamped me down onto his lap and rolled over to the phone. His face looked calm, but his eyes were unreadable. He picked up the phone.

"Who is this?"

"May I speak with Ryan?"

Logan's face contorted and his hand clenched on the phone, his knuckles turning scary white.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF IN THE ASS WITH A CATTLE PROD, YOU FUCKING POLITICAL WHORE." He slammed the phone back into its cradle and stared at it, nostrils flaring.

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me, and I couldn't stop once I started. Logan looked down at me in shock, but soon he was laughing too, head thrown back and his chest heaving with great guffaws.

Once we calmed down, I resituated so that I could face him comfortably while still on his lap. "Thank you, Logan. I think I figured something out."

"What's that?"

"You're the curative I needed this whole time. Of all the drugs I take, none has ever made me feel as sane as I do right now."

Logan beamed so bright I thought he might have stolen some of the sun.

"I'm glad I take some of your shakes away, kid." He kissed my cheek, then nibbled his way across my jaw to my ear. He chuckled when I gasped, and a hand teased its way under my shirt and up my ribs. I melted into him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing.

"You've got to be fucking kidding!" Logan bellowed, and I barely managed to jump out of his lap before his hand slammed down on the table. His upper lip was pulled up in disgust, and he was practically vibrating with suppressed violence.

I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind.

"Don't answer it."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I just want to be happy right now. I don't want to think about her."

I felt Logan's rigid muscles slowly relax, and his hand came up to rest on mine. He sighed, "I don't think she's going to give up."

"We'll unplug the phone. We each have cell phones anyways."

He nodded, "All right."

******

"Logan! We do not need any more snacks!"

Goddamnit was he trying to piss me off? First this morning he uses the stairs as a playground for Bailey and Oscar, throwing tennis balls down at my door at seven in the morning. Then at breakfast he made pancakes for himself and all the dogs, but then claimed that he "forgot" about me. He's been pulling all these ridiculous stunts ever since that first kiss.

I know he wants me to sleep upstairs with him but.... I-I'm just not ready for that yet. He hasn't explicitly said anything; he just finds excuses every night to keep me upstairs for five minutes longer.

After we decided to unplug the phone, we spent another night on the couch, talking and holding each other. It was wonderful. Fucking amazing. But the next night, when he asked me if we could spend a night talking in his bed, instead of the couch, I hadn't been able to say yes.Ever since then he's been acting so freaking frustrating. I usually drive when we go out, it's just faster and more economical. He has his big wheelchair adapted truck, but it guzzles gas like a marathon runner guzzles water after racing across the Sahara.

But this morning, Logan just had to drive his truck. And bring all the dogs. Usually it's just Mason, sometimes Bailey. Oscar's a fucking pain in the car. He shakes and jumps everywhere and if he gets too excited, we get pukey groceries. But now he's probably sitting in the back seat, luxuriating in a puddle of his own pee, all because Logan's being a stubborn jackass.

And he's grabbing every single snack he see's off the shelf. I'm pushing the cart and trying to throw all the stuff he chucks in back out. Ritz, chewy bars, pop-tarts, tortilla chips, Doritos, Lay's, Oreo's, goldfish, is it ever going to end?

Oh, and in goes some Pringles.

"Logan! You don't eat half this stuff! Why is it in the cart?" I grabbed the damn Pringles and slammed them back on the shelf.

"Stop being such a brat, kid. I just want some snacks for Sunday." He rolled his eyes like a teenager and rolled off ahead of me, probably to go get fifty fucking cups of yogurt.

I pushed the cart faster. "Oh no you don't! You don't like snackey football food! You said it yourself, 'That shit's for pussies. You want real football food, eat like a man and have a brisket.' Did you not?"

His jaw tightened, and I could see the back of his neck turn bright red. Instead of replying, he shot off, somehow managing not to flatten a little girl whose mother screamed and snatched her up, flipping Logan's back off. He turned the corner somewhere around the book aisle, disappearing from sight.

Why was he acting like this? Things seemed to have been going well. We'd been much more relaxed without my mother calling twenty times a day, and I just kept falling.

Yeah, that kind of falling.

We kissed a lot and did a fair amount of groping, though I'd yet to touch him... down... there.

He's an obnoxious son of a bitch, but he's been that way since I met him. It's just been getting worse. A lot worse. He does still have some sweet moments, though.

Ugh. I sound like a girl.

Bacon, we need more bacon.

I wound up and down the aisles grabbing stuff we actually needed, coming to a stop when I finally reached Logan. He was blocking half the aisle, reading some flashy covered book upside-down. It was almost convincing.

I sighed. "Logan, I need to grab my prescription. You wanna wait here or come with me?"

He just waved a hand for me to walk by.

God I wanted to throttle him.

I steered noisily by him, making sure to hit his wheel as I passed. I picked up my prescription, then went to wait in line. Somehow right as I was about to dig through my wallet and get my card, Logan comes out of nowhere, shoving people out of his way and scowling ferociously at me. He throws his credit card at the cashier, growls, then grabs half the bags onto his lap and rolls away.

What?

I apologize to the people in line and grab the remaining bags. What was going on in that thick country head of his?

I put everything in the backseat after checking for any Oscar fluids, then slowly climbed into the cab.

"Okay, what was that abo—"

"Just shut the fuck up, boy!" Logan thundered.

I stared at him in shock; he'd never spoken to me that way. My hands trembled, and I clenched them between my legs.

He glanced at me and rubbed a hand over his eyes before grinding his teeth and slamming the same hand against the dash. "Stop starin' at me!"

My head snapped around like it was on a string. I watched the stores and houses go by, thoughts tumbling through my head.

Maybe something had happened with his family? Would he have told me about something like that? Probably not. I was just the kid who lived downstairs, he called me that often enough. I should probably apologize, I hadn't had any right to ask him anything. It was his truck, his house, his rules. My chest hurt.

I could feel the air in my lungs choke up, and I forced myself to breathe out slowly so that I wouldn't wheeze.

I squeezed my legs tighter as I felt the trembling in my hands get worse. I needed to get my meds, but I wasn't about to reach for it when he could see. He'd probably just call me crazy again. I pressed myself as far up against the door as I could and waited for us to get home.

Finally we pulled into the drive. As soon as Logan threw it in park I was out the door, grabbing groceries and letting the dogs out while he was slowly lifted down.

All the bags except my prescription went on the counter, and then I was heading for the stairs. Right before I touched the banister, I paused. I turned back towards the front door and waited, head down.

I heard Logan come through, still growling. I took a hesitant step forward and his growling stopped.

"Whatchya want." He was still pissed, voice was deep with aggravation. My hands trembled again.

"S-so-sorry." I did an about-face and raced for the stairs, not daring to look him in the eye.

******

I stayed huddled downstairs for the remainder of the day, writing my cover letter and application for the local middle school I was hoping to get hired at. I had wanted to bring it up to have Logan look it over once I was done, but that wasn't going to happen now.

Tears jumped back into my eyes as I thought about him. What had I done?

I set my laptop aside, no longer able to concentrate on listing out all of my references. What had I done wrong? Maybe he was frustrated with the new side of my personality. I couldn't help it though, I'd become comfortable with him, comfortable enough that I talked back and joked with him. I hardly ever needed my meds anymore, though I still took my regulars out of habit. Today was the first day in nearly two weeks where I'd actually needed them.

My hands trembled as I remembered the car ride home. He'd never yelled at me like that, not even when I accidentally spilled a plate of burritos all over him and his wheelchair.

Maybe something had happened with his family and he was just taking it out on me. But then wouldn't he be flying down to Conroe instead of dealing with it way up here? His family was close knit, if something happened, they dealt with it together. It had to be something I had done. I couldn't pin anything down, though.

I flopped backwards on the bed, trying not to cry. He'd laugh at me if he knew; say I was a pussy boy.

"Fuck me." Bailey was happily romping around with Oscar upstairs, so I was left pitifully alone to my thoughts.

Suddenly I heard muffled yelling coming from upstairs. I listened harder; it sounded like Logan was ordering Mason around, though I doubted if even Mason would listen to him while he was in that mood.

The yelling stopped and the sharp clicking of paws ventured closer, and then I heard the soft thumps of a dog running down the stairs. The thumps stopped outside my door and loud whining began. I ignored it.

When he started pawing at the wood, I gave up and yanked the door open. Mason sat and whined at me from the other side. I reached for his head to give him a pat, but he jerked back and whined at me again.

"What's wrong, Mace?" I asked in confusion.

He howled and ran halfway up the stairs.

"Oh hell no, I'm not going up there." I walked back into my room and shut the door.

The whining started up again until a shout from Logan shut him up. There was another thump, and mason started whining softly. The other dogs started pitching in, Bailey yipping frantically while Oscar barked. I peeked my head outside my door to see what was going on, and saw Logan hanging onto to the banister and sliding himself down the stairs step by step.

"Logan!" He looked up at my exclamation and I dashed back into my room and slammed the door. He still looked angry, though it might have just been concentration that was furrowing his brows.

But still, why the fuck was he coming down here? And like that? Why... And I'd just left him there, no wonder he didn't like me anymore. I opened the door and hesitantly walked out.

The look that came over his face was the last one I'd expected. Relief.

"What are you doing, Logan? You're gonna hurt yourself." I walked up the steps and made to grab his arm, but he caught my hand and held it tightly.

"Please sit down, Ry. Just here."

"Why?"

Instead of answering, he tugged sharply on my hand, toppling me to my knees beside him.

I jerked my hand away from him and leaned as far back from him as I could. "Logan, stop! Just tell me what's going on."

He grabbed for my hand again, frowning when I slid down a few steps and out of his reach. "Fine, fine. Jeez, kid, why d'ya have to want explanations for everything?"

Really. After what he'd put me through this morning and for the last two weeks, he thought I wouldn't want a reason for all of his histrionics? "You've been acting like a jackass for weeks, Logan. I deserve some kind of explanation."

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He was silent for a few more moments, but eventually brought his hands down and looked at me. "Why won't you sleep with me?"

I sputtered, "What does that have to do with anything? This is about you being an ass, not where I sleep!"

"Actually it does, Ry. I didn't mean to get so swole up about it, but you kept denying me, and I..." He slammed his head back against the wall, causing the dogs to yip at us from where they were watching us intently at the top of the stairs.

"Logan don't. What do you mean? If you're getting that pissed just because won't let you have my ass, then you're different than I thought you were."

"What? No! Ry, not sex. I could wait years for that, but I want you next to me at night, like we do on the couch. I wanna be able to talk to you about your weird ass dreams before you've forgot them, and to be able to not worry about getting' up on time just so I can see you when you first get upstairs. And..." he paused again and hung his head. "And I want to make sure that you'll still want me after you've seen my legs."