Change My Mind

Obligitory Disclaimer: Gay sex, over 18, blah blah, yada yada, you know the drill. This is yet another installment involving Doug from Subway Angel and Tomcats. It's a standalone if you haven't read those yet, so don't worry. I originally wrote this for a friend, which is where I got the name "Patch", (It's an old style nickname for "Peter", much like "Dick" is for "Richard") I thought it was good so here I am publishing it. Any and all feedback welcome. I want to give a special thank you to Tom Collins who inflated my ego and made this ledgible.

Change My Mind

Les Diaboliques. That's the name of the worst foreign film, hell, the worst film ever in recorded history. It's the film I've been suffering through, ready to projectile vomit from, for over two solid hours. I'm here with a friend forherfriend's birthday. I came along because the birthday girl's brother was supposed to be here, and his attractiveness and availability had been hyped up to me for a good month now. "You'll love him, he's just right for you." They've been telling me. So I went to this art space, ready to put up with a room full of pretentious idiots if it meant meeting someone cool. Alas, it wasn't meant to be, for this mystery brother caught a stomach virus and was unable to attend. So, whilst all the women in the room flutter and coo in the dark about what a sensitive, touching movie this is, I'm sitting here about to slit my wrists.

"It's almost over," My friend leans over to me, finally noticing how badly I've been fidgeting. "Only about forty-five or so minutes to go." God, I won't make it. I'll explode first.

"I'll be back. I need to uhh...use the bathroom." I lie, just wanting to go out for some fresh air. She doesn't respond, she doesn't even acknowledge that I've spoken to her. I make my way out of the small, stuffy, smoke-filled room, through the bar area and out into the crisp, quiet autumn night. There's already someone standing out here eating a candybar. He's got this big black hoodie on, and he gives me a suspicious glare from under it as I sit down on the bench nearby. I give him a lingering stare in return. "You hated the movie too, huh?"

He takes a moment to swallow his candy before responding. "You went in to see the movie? No, man, I'm hiding out from the yuppie douchebags at the wine bar."

"You came here for the wine bar?" He honestly didn't look like the type to be at a place like this. He had these big sloppy jeans, ripped at the cuffs and smudged with dirt and paint, and faded black sneakers that looked older than he was. I could picture him hanging out at the park with a beer in his hand, but not in a high-class place like this.

"I'm with a friend." His tone is rather harsh and defensive. "This place fucking sucks. I could be home whacking off to midget porn right now." My eyes widen at his comment. I can't believe someone would say that to a complete stranger. Well, my expression must have been priceless because he suddenly bursts out laughing. "Okay," He slaps his knee. "Your reaction just made this whole thing worth it." I can't help but start laughing too.

"Wow, that's something you don't hear everyday." I blurt out not knowing how else to respond.

He wraps up the remainder of his candy and shoves it into his pocket, wipes his hands, crudely, on his thighs and walks over to me with a hand out. I can see his face better now that he's in the light. He's got these big green eyes framed in thick, brown, geek glasses, and a heart-shaped face covered in thick, coarse, brown stubble. "I'm Doug." He flashes a smart-assed grin, like he's inwardly mocking me.

"My friends call me Patch." I take his hand. It's warm, and his grip is strong. He sits by me and pushes his hood back. He's got this long dark hair back in a ponytail, with a thousand flyaways. He takes a moment to slide out his hairtie and redo the ponytail to pre-hoodie neatness.

"Nice to meetcha. You ever been to this dump before tonight?"

"Never. I'm not planning on coming back either. What about you?"

He turns away, his brows knit from stress as he pinches the bridge of his nose, making the glasses lift up a bit. "Once. I came here with my roomate because she thought I needed more 'culture'. Made me sit through this gawdsawful black and white flick about some french broad who goes around stabbin' dudes in their sleep. It was so painful, I should'a had two robots sitting next to me making fun of it the whole time."

"Oh, Les Diaboliques, that's what I was forced to sit through just now."

"Augh!" He cries in empathy. "And it's like twelve thousand years long, right?" He gives me a sympathetic smile. "The things we do for our friends!"

"Tell me about it." I roll my eyes. "So if you hate this place so much, why'd you come back?"

"Because she really likes this place, and I have _nothing_ better to do. I work so much and it's like, sometimes I want to feel like I have a life, even if I'm having a rotten time., At least I'm not sitting home with my thumb up my ass, you know?" He glances down and for a moment he looks so tired and sad that I feel the urge to reach over and hug him.

"I know." I sigh. We sit there for a moment just looking at the ground in silence. There's something about this guy that's so strangely comfortable, like we've known each other for years. The gap of silence isn't even awkward, in fact, just sitting there with him made me feel oddly content.

At one point, he turns to me with a half-smirk and breaks the silence. "I think I remember you coming in. You were with that huge mafia of chicks, right?" I chuckle and nod. "So which one of them was your girlfriend?"

It wasn't just the question alone that was funny, it was the way he asked it, and the look in his eyeswhenhe asked it; like he was probing. Like he wanted to know if I was single, into women or interested in finding someone. I debated giving him a monosyllabic and obscure answer, but it hits me that he's asking because he might be interested. Could I go out with a guy like him? He's so strange, so vulgar, so different from anyone I've ever met. "They're my friends." I smile wide; flattered that he finds me attractive enough to go through the probing process for.

"Ahh, so your girlfriend is at home? Worrying about you being out with so many other girls?" He giggles, not letting up. "You some sort of heartbreaker?"

"Well, to women, I'm afraid so. I always break their hearts when they find out I'm gay." I decide to be nice and give him what he's looking for. I was never any good at keeping people stringing along, even if they deserved it. He turns to fully face me, his eyes lighting up like a christmas tree, and for a second he looks like he wants to say something. He merely smirks and nods in approval.

"Cool." He finally states, turning forward, still nodding slowly.

"And you? Is your roomate a love interest?"

He shrugs casually, still looking forward. I glance that way and realize there's a cat digging through garbage across the street. "She was, but not anymore. I'm looking for something else right now."

"Like?" There's suddenly a tension growing between us. Not an awkward one, something more primal, more meaningful. He turns to me and there's a new element to those olive green eyes of his; a hungry, devilish look of desire. It completely changed the way he looked; it transformed him from "playful little brother" to "wild, mischievous potential lover". My jaw drops open as we just sit there staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Like...something more...rugged." He breathes, his eyes slitted sexily.

"How old are you?" I ask suddenly, and he's taken aback by it. It occurs to me that he looks young, maybe a little too young.

He blinks a few times, that smirk now gone from his features. "Older than I look, younger than I feel."

"Boy, you've got a wisecrack answer for everything, don't you?" I chuckle, trying to hide my growing frustration.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm 27. Lighten up, man. You totally destroyed that whole moment just now. Well you know what, you're going to have to build up to the next one 'cause I'm spent." He continues to look at me, crossing his arms, now obviously annoyed.

"Hahaha! You're very cute, but you realize I'm a lot older than you, right?"

"Tsk." He clicks his tongue. "So what? I think it was the Kids in the Hall who said 'the cute, as a species, do not age well', so I gotta get all the nookie I can while I'm young. You, on the other hand, are aging beautifully so the difference between us shouldn't mean much."

"You're too kind." I put a hand on his knee to underscore my point. "Unfortunately, as attractive as I might find you, a one night stand is not something I'm looking for right now."

He puts his warm hand gingerly on top of mine. "Then I'm afraid we have a problem, because I just got out of a forever-long relationship and I'm just not ready to leap into another."

"Hrm." I grunt, turning to stare at that cat again. Now it's sitting in the meatloaf position on a ledge, staring back at us. I can see it's eyes glowing bright greenish-yellow in the dark.

"Yeah," He agrees, squeezing my hand. "Ain't love grand? Scars you worse than war." We sit like that for a few more minutes, the sexual tension hanging in the air like humidity. "What about friends with benefits?" He blurts out after a while.

"No, Doug. I'm looking for a boyfriend, I don't have time for games."

He gasps and turns to stare wide-eyed at me with this insulted expression, pulling his hand away from mine. "No time for games? Let me tell you something. There's a big difference between an 'adult' and a 'grown-up'. An adult is someone who can live their life and do their own thing, but never forgot how to be a kid. He can still joke and mess around with the best of them, and can totally make time in his busy life for playtime. And a grown-up...well, if you become one of those, you might as well go walk into oncoming traffic now because you're already dead." He crosses his arms again and stares at his own feet.

"Yes, but there comes a time when you have to discard your wild ways for something more substantial and secure." I put my hand on his shoulder. With all this sexual tension floating about, it was difficult having him sit next to me and not touch him. "Sleeping around isn't safe or smart, and you seem like a decent person. I can't imagine you like the feeling of being used."

"You're right, I don't." He looks down. "But it's better than ripping open an already rotting wound." He begins to shake his head absently, looking very upset. I scoot closer and put my arm around him. I can feel the immense tension in his shoulders;, it was like I was leaning against a brick wall. "There's nothing secure about relationships." He begins, still staring at the ground between his parted legs. "People are so fickle, so ready to move onto the next big thing. So sick, so obsessive, so indifferent, and so bitter. Everyone's got a different mental malfunction. You could be the happiest couple in the world and something horrible always goes wrong. They cheat on you, they ignore you, they mistreat you, turn their back on you, abuse you, talk shit about your friends and family, it's always something. It's not like it used to be. And even if they're great to be with, nobody wants to work anything out and stay together anymore and every love venture just either tapers out or explodes into an abysmal failure. Getting emotionally attached just opens you up for more pain." He glances up into my eyes with this miserable, puppydog expression. "I know." He gives me a crooked grin despite this and puts his hand on my inner thigh. "I'm just a big fucking ray of sunshine."

I chuckle and he joins me. The sexual tension is mostly gone, leaving only that comfort level we had before. The door creaks open and my friend's head pops halfway out. "Patch?" She shouts right before spotting us on the bench. We both turn our heads to look at her. "Oh!" She squeals when she sees how close we're sitting. "The um, movie's over, so we're just going to sit at the bar. So...whenever you want to come in, okay?"

"Okay, thanks, hon." I wave to her as she closes the door giving me a big, forced, slightly embarrassed smile. Doug waves to her as well.

"Well, that was special." He remarks flatly. "You wanna go back inside?"

"No, not yet. Look," I get back to the subject before he has the chance to derail my thought train. "You're mostly right but you have a very bitter, jaded outlook on love. It's not all screaming matches and resentment. That stuff makes you forget about the real reason we look for love. It makes you feel wonderful, wanted,needed. Like you have someone who treasures you despite all your faults and shortcomings."

"Friends with benefits can do that." He grins as I give him give him a frustrated sigh, slumping my shoulders. He gives me a big, dazzling smile. "Hey, I'm a stubborn, pig-headed jerk. I'll be the first to admit it. And I know what you mean, I can see your side of it." His features soften into sadness. "I'm just not ready."

"I understand." I hold him close to me with both arms and he nuzzles his head against the crook of my neck. It's been so long since I've felt something so intimate and yet so normal. He didn't feel like a stranger in my arms; it's as if we've been a couple for years and this was just one of those affectionate cuddle moments we often share. I close my eyes and thoroughly enjoy the contact. I can feel his even breathing, his chest rising and falling against me. His cheek is warm against my neck, despite the heavy chill in the air. Even his hair is warm, and smells faintly of sweet shampoo. I think about letting this strange, vulgar, young man into my life as a good friend until he comes to his senses and decides he wants to be all mine. I think about how hard it will be not to just sleep with him, and that, when he's ready, the lovemaking will be more than worth it.

"DOUG!" Some woman with short, black hair and tons of makeup on comes bursting through the door, yelling like a maniac. We both jump with a start. He tears away from me to stand up and face her. My whole body suddenly feels cold and my arms feel the depressing, empty void of his absence. "Doug, what the fuck, where were you??" She points at him. "You just missed some funny shit!"

"Sorry, Nat, I was out here talking to a friend." He glances at me nervously.

"So what, you're flat leaving me? Get your ass back in here. We just met up with a bunch of people and I want them to meet you." She trots up to him, takes him by the wrist and begins dragging him away. "C'mon, you need to do your Beavis impression, that's friggin' hysterical." He gives me a helpless look as he halfway drags his feet back to the door.

"Excuse me!" I stand up, unwilling to take this bullshit. "Doug and I were talking. He'll join you when he's done."

"She points at me, yet addresses him. "Who the hellisthis guy?"

"I told you, he's my friend. Go inside, I'll be with you in a few minutes."

She taps her watch sternly. "Five minutes, child. I already told them about you, don't make a fool out of me." Seems like she's doing a fine enough job of that on her own. I want to tell her so, but she's leaving and I'm really not in the mood to start a bitch-fight with one of his friends. She spins on her heels and trots proudly back through the door. He turns to me and deflates the air from his cheeks.

"That's your roomate??" I walk up to him, motioning towards the door. "Does she always treat you like that?"

"No, most of the time she's too busy trying to get into my pants." He gives me that smart-assed grin again and I close the distance between us. He slides his hands under my jacket and kneads his palms against my back. I fold my arms around his shoulders and stroke my fingers through his silky locks.

"And you've managed to resist?" I smile back. He rests his head on my chest and it's wonderful again.

"It's easy when you've got a good idea of where that pussy's been. Like I said, I used to be interested, not anymore." He lets out a soft moan as my hands roam his body from over that baggy hoodie. From what I can feel, he's a bit plump around the middle but that's fine. Not everyone can be a big, lean health nut like me. He looks up into my eyes, resting his prickly chin on my chest. His fingers entwine with my shoulderlength, light brown hair. "I like your do." He grins. "I'm a big sucker for a guy with long hair."

"You're a big sucker, huh?" I grin back. "Then be my boyfriend." I look like I'm kidding but I'm not. He squints, tickling me, and I laugh, pulling away a bit.

"I don't want to go in there again." He pulls me back against him with a bit of force, locking his hands around my waist. For a little guy, he has some strength to him. "I want to stay out here with you all night."

"Even if she comes back out here screaming her head off?"

His brow furrows in anger. "Fuck Natalie. She's a stupid whore. In fact, let's go for a walk." His words mixed with that heavy, Brooklyn accent brings me to laughter once again. We clasp hands and start walking away from the building.

"Do you know anything about this neighborhood? I don't want to get lost."

"If not, you'd better remember where we came from 'cause I've got the sense of direction of a wad of spit."

"That's comforting."

He mock-smiles. "Ain't it just??"

__

This neighborhood is completely desolate right now. No stores are open, and nobody's is on the streets but us, and it's great. We shoot the shit, talk about our lives and some of our past experiences, he makes sure to keep me laughing with his wisecracks and tales of his outlandish misadventures. "Truth is stranger than fiction," he states when he begins to get the inkling I might not believe him. We flirt heavily as we walk, our fingers laced together tightly, brushing our bodies together, every once in a while alternating to walking with an arm around each other. The more we talk, the closer we become, the easier it becomes for me to picture us as a couple. I could just kill the guy he was with last, for hurting him and making him fearful of relationships.

We pass by one of those little public playgrounds with the gates still wide open so we go in and sit down on a bench. We sit as close as we can, without being in each other's laps. I wrap an arm around him and there's this long moment where we just stare into each other's eyes wordlessly. I want to kiss him so badly, but it will be the kiss that starts something, and I won't sleep with him if I know it might be the only time. I catch him staring at my lips and smile, knowing what he's thinking. "Are you sure you won't reconsider?" I tip my head to the side, my eyes pleading with him. "Can't you just have trust that I would never intentionally hurt you?"

"No and no." He gets that miserable, guilty look on his face again. "I'm sorry. This was probably a bad idea." He begins to get up and it hurts so much that I grab his shoulders and kiss him full on the lips. His whole body stiffens in surprise, but in a moment he yields to me, his body melting against me, wrapping his arms around my torso, returning the kiss with equal fervor. I can't help it. I didn't want to give in, but this is sheer torture. Now I'll just have to make sure it doesn't escalate past a certain point. He, naturally, doesn't have to worry because this is exactly what he wants. As much as I fight it, it's exactly what I want too.

He moans against my lips, pushing his sultry tongue in between them to search for mine. My hands migrate from his shoulders, groping down his arms, over his back and finally nestling happily on his hips. His fingers thread through my hair, his nails lightly raking over my scalp. I groan, feeling the quickly swelling package in my pants becoming harder to ignore. His free hand slides up my shirt to feel over my washboard abs and chest. Every touch from him is like stirring the embers, making the fire hotter.