Work Text:
Bertholdt let down a weary leg as he puffed his cigarette. The smoke wafted up and his van’s overhead light illuminated its many toxic particles. He knew it was bad for him, and being a track runner made it even more of a faux paux. But whatever. The stab at his sweet boy image was worth the cringe of regret.
Ymir sat in the driver’s seat. Her ripped-leggings covered legs rested on the dash as she puffed on a joint. She offered it to Bertholdt.
“This the stuff you got from Zeke?” Bertholdt asked. He snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray that rested on the boombox to his side.
Ymir had told him smoking weed after a cigarette cancelled out the negative effects of the tobacco. Bertholdt didn’t really believe that, but it made the gnawing part inside that worried for his health feel better.
“Nah, this is what Pieck grew herself,” she replied.
He grimaced, but moved over behind her seat and took the joint between his fingers. Pieck often added herbs like lavender to her mix. But upon taking a hit found it was as average as ever. No weird rosemary or lavender taste. Bertholdt coughed a bit then handed it to back to Ymir. His head lolled against the seat. Eyes lidding and enjoying the ripples of dull elation filling his body. His eyes fluttered open to catch movement beyond the uncovered gap of the door window’s curtain.
Reiner Braun with his perfect curt steps strode toward the church two buildings down. Beside him was a small blonde girl with a side-braid and on her phone. Probably Historia. Bertholdt shifted to get a better view.
Reiner’s sculpted arms laid bare by his t-shirt flexed as he held what seemed to be a heavy box. Pouty lips framing whatever he was talking to Historia about along with his gruff stubble he’d let grow in since the year prior. They walked up the steps of the white church building. Reiner’s tan pants hugged his round backside well. The door shut behind them.
“Must be supplies for that bake sale,” Ymir said from beside him. She must have joined him while he was preoccupied.
“Bake sale?” Bertholdt asked.
“Yeah. Their little churchy charity bake sale they have at the start of every season.” She barked a laugh. “I told Historia we could have a sleepover and bakes lots of chocolate chip, but no.” She sighed.
“Is that a euphemism?”
“I really love how even gay and bi men are dumb as shit when it comes to lesbians.” She lightly smacked his shoulder. “No, it’s not a euphemism.”
I wasn’t asking if it was a lesbian one specifically...
Bertholdt shrugged it off. And Ymir’s smirk turned to a frown as she stared at the church door.
Historia had been the resident Good Girl throughout their school years. Only blemished by her and Ymir’s a secret fling. Now at twenty, Historia seemed to have dug her heels into her predetermined lifestyle.
Reiner was much the same, though beginning at an older age. Bertholdt hadn’t much talked to him since fourth grade when his mother began sinking neck-deep into the church. The two drfited apart over the years. But Bertholdt’s gaze always wandered back to Reiner. Unsure sure what to say to him. Only offering a few niceties now and then.
As they grew older, Bertholdt noticed how well his former friend had filled out. Grown both taller and thicker. His voice deep and his cheekbones and jawline sharp enough to cut concrete. Bertholdt was torn between a desire to reconnect with his old friend and one to press him against the back of that church and nibble his Adam’s apple. Though there was no reason he couldn't do both.
“You think Reiner still likes me?” Bertholdt asked.
Ymir’s long face reanimated with a snort. “Omigod, you like, want me to ask if he likes you? Maybe ask if he wants to share a sodie-pop down at the diner?”
Bertholdt attempted to ‘casually’ scratch his cheek with his middle-finger.
Ymir just shook her head. “He is gay though, you know.”
“I do.”
A flash of worry dampened his intrigue. The church had never been known to be close-minded, but that didn't necessarily mean they were open-minded.
“I do see him look at you,” Ymir continued. Bertholdt narrowed his eyes, uncertain of her truthfulness. “No, really.”
“In an ‘I want to save his soul’ kinda way or an ‘I want to turn him into swiss cheese’ kinda way?”
“The hell does swiss ch—oh ew. I wish I didn’t understand that euphemism.”
“I don’t particularly like it either. Probably won’t use it again.”
She leaned back against the seat. “To answer your question: about eighty-percent cheese, twenty-percent soul.”
His brow quirked. “Really.”
***
Bertholdt held a steady pace on the gym’s treadmill. Earbuds blasting an indie rock group’s laments about life. He’d run nearly twenty minutes and boasted a thin sheen of sweat. Track was his forte in school and while he stopped competing he still enjoyed running. Plus it would hopefully negate some effects of his smoking.
Meanwhile, Reiner had burrowed a nest inside his head and refused to leave. Something about how he looked carrying those boxes made his skin tighten. He was even seeing Reiner in places where he wasn’t. Like on the elliptical machine a few rows over with—
His eyes widened.
Reiner was working out alongside Marcel—the world’s most vanilla everyman. Who said things were ‘swell’ and had perfectly slicked back hair that remained in place even there at the gym.
But more eye-catching was Reiner. Draped in a loose blue tank top and black shorts. Arms so wonderfully defined. He’d let his beard grow in a smidgen more than when he’d last seen him a few days ago. The light from the setting sun beyond the front window panes made each platinum highlight in his blond hair glow.
Something about the high-pedigree two looking like magazine models made Bertholdt aware of his stark difference. Reiner was like a cup of coffee on a bright Sunday morning before church. Bertholdt was a hit of wine from the almost-empty bottle the previous rainy Saturday night.
Bertholdt slowed the machine to a walk for his cool down. Trying to avert his attention from Reiner to not be so obvious. His music had longed stopped, having reached his playlist’s end. He thumbed back to the top but accidentally stole a glance. Reiner was looking back at him. His square eyes smoothed into a round shape of faint recognition. Bertholdt quickly averted his gaze back to his phone. Forcing his focus on the rest of his cool down, but his heart rate refused to budge from its hard rhythm.
He gritted his teeth. He hated feeling like the sheepish and twitchy person he’d been in the past. For all he knew, Reiner still saw him as that person despite his dark costume. He stole himself one more look at Reiner, who was was off the machine and chugging water from his thermos. Marcel was saying something to him with wildly gesturing hands.
A sudden idea flashed through his mind. He grabbed his phone and headed to the locker room to change out of his gym clothes. Retrieving from the bag in his locker his olive green button-up and dark blue jeans. Glad he’d worn such a flattering outfit today.
The gym was emptying out around that time. After seven on a Monday evening left him enough privacy to change. A hard edge hadn’t destroyed his modesty. Once changed and toweled off, he poked his head out the door and spotted Reiner and Marcel at the same place.
Bertholdt then scrutinized himself in the floor-length mirror. Tucking a stray tuft of dark hair behind his ear to reveal the subtle glisten of his silver stud earring. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and pulled down at his collar to offer a peek at his chest. His appearance had grown on him in recent years. Trying to fit into the dark and handsome category. No longer a six-five baby in a sweater his mom picked.
Though he did miss the comfort and warmth of a sweater.
Bertholdt peeked out again. Marcel was going toward the door and Reiner called out, “Alright, I’ll be right behind you. Gimme five.”
The two must have come separately.
Perfect!
Bertholdt grabbed his bag and slunk through the gym. Using other people, pillars, and machines to conceal himself, then made it outside into the setting sun. The day’s heat fizzled from the air into a pleasant warmth. A perfect time for a trip next door to the strip mall’s ice cream shop. Ironic next to a gym of all places, but Bertholdt’s metabolism never questioned sweet and fatty treats.
The doorbell chimed as he stepped inside the shop. A rainbow of colors saturated the menu board and the wallpaper. Paired with the lovely sweet scent of chocolate and vanilla that filled his nose and made his mouth water.
The usual cheery girl with pigtails greeted him, “Hi, Bertholdt!”
“Hi...” Her name was Mina, he knew that, but feigned a squint at her name tag. “...Mina.”
“Two scoops raspberry?”
He nodded.
Okay, he had a bit of a sweet tooth that was mismatched with his persona. But he couldn’t live off cigarettes and whiskey. And raspberry ice cream was his kryptonite.
He twiddled his toes in his leather ankle-boots. Nodding along to Mina’s chatter and mentally urging her to hurry. Hopeful he hadn’t missed Reiner. Finally, she finished his cone and he paid. Heading back out and to the first window pane of the gym, he saw Reiner hoist his bag over his shoulder and start for the door.
Bertholdt scrambled back to the space between the two establishments. Dropping his bag by his feet and leaning back against the brick, urging his body to relax. Licking on his cone, he fetched his phone from his pocket. Scrolling through it so he didn’t look too weird just loitering around licking an ice cream cone.
The gym door swung open and Reiner emerged. Unchanged from his workout clothes. Bertholdt tilted his head back a bit and arched his hips out slightly. Searing his gaze into Reiner with an exceptionally long lick of the ice cream.
He really did love raspberry.
Reiner slowed after just after passing him, and turned. His lips parted. Oh, his lips. Bertholdt instinctively gave the ice cream a little suck as he thought of what they’d feel like between his own.
Reiner raised his free hand and pointed. “Bertholdt.”
Bertholdt smacked his lips. “Mhm. Hi...” He acted as if he were searching for his name.
“Reiner.”
“Of course. Reiner.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” He looked him up and down.
“I’ve been around.” He idly checked his phone.
“You look hot. I mean—” Reiner’s throat bobbed. “Like you were working out. I see your bag. Were you just at the gym too? I thought I might have seen you in there.”
Holy damn, Ymir was right.
“I was. Hadn’t seen you though.”
“I’d been slacking off working out. Kinda lost some of that muscle I used to have. My buddy Marcel’s acting as my sorta coach.”
Bertholdt had no idea what muscle loss he was talking about.
“So we might see more of each other then.”
“Yeah, we should catch up. I would say now but I got a church thing.”
Bertholdt dropped his phone back in his pocket and bit into the cone. “Of course you do.”
Reiner gave a nod. “Next time then. See you later, man.”
Bertholdt returned the nod and Reiner went on his way to his car: a blue Volvo sedan.
Predictable.
Bertholdt smirked to himself and let the raspberry cream flood his taste buds.
***
Bertholdt sat cross-legged on his bed and opened his laptop. A steady beat of rock music played from his earbuds and a cone of frankincense smoked from the ceramic skull burner on his nightstand. His fingers clattered across the backlit keyboard.
The name of Reiner’s church had escaped his memory, but he recalled it as Methodist. Searching ‘Methodist church Liberio’ brought up several results, including Paths Methodist which jogged his memory. Their Facebook page was full of images of projects they had done. Soup kitchens, building homes, and the aforementioned charity bake sales. Bertholdt’s lips quirked upward at an image of Reiner standing among his church fellows with a huge grin before a new homeless shelter.
Reiner hadn’t changed at all since they were children. A pang of regret hit his chest. Wishing he had tried to stay friends. But the Bertholdt of years past never questioned things. Just looked at his feet and let the world pass by.
Bertholdt clicked onto Reiner’s Facebook page. He himself had mostly sworn off social media two years ago. Declaring it a distraction and vapid. He still accepted his grandmother’s happy birthdays there, however. And sometimes shared his thoughts on a private Twitter account.
To his surprise, he saw a message notification. Expecting spam, he clicked it ready to block but saw a friend request from Reiner along with a message. If Reiner was indeed into him, then his forwardness was impressive.
From Reiner:
I see you don’t use Facebook much, but since I forgot to get your number thought I’d send you this here.
Attached was a photo from second grade of the two at Reiner’s cowboy-themed birthday party. They stood adorned in cowboy hats before a longhorn piñata. Both sported a grin lacking a few baby teeth. Bertholdt smiled big and cheesy akin to the picture. Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand in at attempt to wipe it off.
The message was sent fifty minutes prior. He thought he should give it some more time to reply. But the hour was heading on eleven and he assumed Reiner was still an early riser.
He replied:
Facebook isn’t really my scene anymore. And nice. Had forgotten about that party.
Bertholdt lay back on his assortment of black pillows. Hearing his mother shuffle around in the hallway. The house had been pitifully quiet ever since his younger brother, Udo, went away for summer science camp.
After a few minutes, Reiner replied:
Yeah, I found it on my mom’s page. So how often are you working out there? Just wondering in case you want someone to spot you.
Reiner’s forwardness threw Bertholdt. His flustered reaction earlier and now this? But then again Reiner had always been very friendly. Or maybe he just wanted to convert him...
His birthday wish-happy grandmother would have a word with him if he abandoned the Greek orthodoxy he was never part of.
Reiner sent another message:
Ahhh dang that was prob too pushy. sorry you probably just wanna be left alone.
Bertholdt waited a very long five minutes. Watching the clock tick to eleven PM and wishing he didn’t have a shift at the party supply store the following day.
He replied:
No don’t apologize. I do like to workout alone but maybe we can help each other out sometimes.
Oh ok that’s a relief. Hey I gotta head to bed but I’ll see you when I see you?
Sure. I should be there again day after tomorrow. Have to work a lot tomorrow.
Okay cool, I’ll be there.
***
Bertholdt chose his red workout tank for his next gym trip, royal blue shorts, and a pair of lime green sneakers. Mentally comparing himself to a bright red male bird flapping its wings and squawking to impress its mate.
But hey, it was only natural.
He waited for Reiner, idling by the pillar beside the treadmill and doing a few haphazard stretches. Once Reiner came in, he switched to a full-body stretch that brought his arms far above his head and the bottom of his stomach exposed.
“Hi,” Reiner greeted, bag slung over his shoulder.
Bertholdt stopped his stretching and gave his quintessential cool nod. “Oh, hey. You snuck up on me.”
“So did you want to do anything together or...?”
Yes, there was definitely something he wanted to do with Reiner.
“Sure.” Bertholdt gestured to the nearby mat and sat down. “Been struggling a bit with sit-ups.”
Reiner set down his bag. “Need to up your core strength?”
“Mhm.” Bertholdt stretched his legs out, keeping one knee arched up and showing off his track-hardened thighs. “I’m a runner, I can get rusty on the mid-section pretty quick.”
Reiner’s gaze was fixed on his legs. “Alright. Let’s go then.”
Oh Reiner, my eyes are up here.
Reiner positioned himself at his feet and held them in place with strong hands. Even Reiner touching him through the thick layer of shoe was enough to get Bertholdt’s blood pumping before he’d even broken a sweat.
Bertholdt put his hands behind his head and began his sit-ups. Reiner’s firm pressure on his feet anchored him securely to the floor. He stole glances at Reiner at every venture up. His gaze flitted over his body as he did so, muttering the count.
Hell, he was a good workout partner, not sure why he needed Marcel.
Ah. Damn Marcel!
“Hey, you two!” called Marcel.
“And twenty!” Reiner declared. “Hey, man.” He looked over his shoulder and waved at Marcel.
Marcel stood grinning. Missing nothing but a cartoon sparkle from his white teeth.
Bertholdt sat up and heaved a breath he could pass off as from exertion. “Hi, Marcel. Long time no see.”
“Reiner told me you’d be doing this. Looking dandy so far.”
Did he just say 'dandy?'
Bertholdt knew his brother, Porco, in passing. He’d drawn the stencil for Ymir’s latest tattoo and was training to be a tattoo artist. He wasn’t involved in his family’s church. Yet from what Porco said, he and Marcel were close.
Maybe just maybe, the bad boy and the good boy could get along after all.
Bertholdt eventually got less—though not entirely—annoyed by Marcel’s third-wheeling as they assisted each other in their routines. All the while sharing fleeting ogles with Reiner.
Bertholdt stood leaning against a weight set and toweled off his face. He overheard Marcel talking to Reiner a few stair-masters over.
“...so swamped lately with planning the trip...”
Bertholdt’s brow quirked and he joined them. “Oh Marcel, if you want I can take over in helping Reiner some when he needs it.”
Marcel threw up his hands. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that to you, kid.”
You’re only a year older than me...
Bertholdt shook his head. “It’s okay, I insist. If that’s okay with you, Reiner?”
Reiner put a hand on his hip and nodded. “Yeah. Cool by me.”
“Oh, you don’t know how much this would help out,” Marcel said. “I can’t thank you enough, Bertholdt.”
Bertholdt imagined devil horns protruding from his head. “Of course.”
***
The next few weeks progressed steadily. They met three times a week at the gym, yet Bertholdt maintained a tantalizing distance for around half of their sessions. Continuing his own running with his earbuds snugly fit. Reiner eyed him at frequent intervals.
But Reiner could play too.
”That shower in there’s water pressure is perfect. You gotta try it,” Reiner had said, emerging from the gym showers and toweling off his dampened hair.
Bertholdt chose not to reveal so much skin. Enjoying keeping the mystery intact. Only ever offering fleeting glimpses of his abs and hipbones during a stretch.
”Not a fan of gym showers. Got my own routine.”
The disappointment on Reiner’s stony features was palpable.
One day, Reiner offered to treat Bertholdt to the ice cream parlor next door. A first as Reiner was usually strict with his post-workout diet. Bertholdt eagerly accepted hoping to get in another seductive ice cream scene.
They sat down across one another at a round table. The rainbow of lights glowed above as Mina sang something to herself and texted on her phone. A customer waited while tapping their feet. Bertholdt at last received his cup of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, and Reiner his bowl of cookies and cream.
Bertholdt dragged his tongue across the icy spoon. Licking his lips clean of the strawberry cream and making low noises of contentment. Reiner seemed to be doing the same. As if in competition.
Bad church boy.
“So,” Bertholdt began, smacking his lips, “I got around to checking your church’s Facebook page last night. You do a lot of good work.”
Reiner nodded. “Yeah, It’s great. Getting out there everyday and just making a difference. Every day. Gotta do somethin’.” What Bertholdt could only read as a grimace tried to fight its way free. Bertholdt opened his mouth to question further but Reiner added, “You’ve changed a lot since we knew each other.”
He cocked his head. “Have I?”
He laughed. “Yeah. You used to be this...”
“Twitchy nervous wreck?”
“If you want to put it like that. I wouldn’t.”
“No, it’s okay. I was.” He shrugged and peppered a napkin across his mouth.
“Actually...” He split a cookie in half with his plastic spoon. “Part of the reason I wanted to treat you here is I’ve been wanting to apologize.”
His ears pricked up. “For what?”
He set down his spoon. “When we were friends back then, I took you for granted. And when we started drifting apart and I never did anything to stop it. I’m sorry for that.”
Warmth swelled in his chest. The reasons why he was drawn to Reiner when they were younger came rushing back.
“It’s okay. It happens.” Bertholdt’s voice came out softer than intended.
Bertholdt didn’t want any kind of relationship. He really didn’t. His intention was to reconnect with an old friend and hopefully hook-up. The idea of sleeping with a nice Christian boy being unbearably hot. But he giddily awaited their gym trysts for reasons other than the place between his legs. Reiner was so charming, and so kind, and so funny. His smile tugged at Bertholdt’s heartstrings. He supposed he did want to do more than nibble his Adam’s apple outside against Paths Methodist Church after all.
Reiner pushed aside his unfinished bowl. “Yeah well, I’ve felt bad about it for a while.”
“It’s not like I made an attempt either. So it’s not all on you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just—since you were never as assertive, I’d thought it fell on me.”
Bertholdt set down his spoon. “It didn’t. Trust me. I was plenty capable I just didn’t.”
Reiner heaved a short sigh. “So, anyway. Next week let’s say we try some weight training?”
“Sure.”
***
Bertholdt reclined in the back of his van. Long legs draped crossways over Ymir’s. A cigarette piped between his fingers.
“So Reiner’s bearing his sins to you, huh,” Ymir said, twirling her cropped hair around her finger.
Bertholdt frowned. “Seems like the whole church thing is gnawing at him.”
“Yeah, it’ll do that.”
“I get the feeling when I talk to him he’s unhappy.”
“Being a good boy all the time can tear you down.”
A knock resounded on the van door and they both flinched. They shared a look. After so many times smoking in their van did someone finally notice?
Bertholdt unlocked then slid open the door.
“Speak of the angel,” Ymir said.
Reiner shared his million-dollar smile. “Thought I recognized your rig. You’re early.”
“Just chilling before it’s time,” Bertholdt explained.
His face fell. “Didn’t know you smoked.”
His shoulders slumped. Reiner’s disappointment bothered him more than he expected. “So why are you here early?”
Reiner placed his hand on the top of the van. His imposing yet casual stance made Bertholdt gnaw on his cheek. “Giving Marcel a lift, then noticed you were here.”
“Want to chill in here with us?” Ymir asked. “If you don’t mind Bertl’s cancerous smoke.”
“I’ll put it out,” Bertholdt offered.
“Yeah, sure,” Reiner tapped the van and climbed in.
Bertholdt put out his cigarette in the ashtray and slid the door shut. Reiner settled beside Bertholdt, their shoulders brushing.
Ymir was biting a smile into her cheek. “Getting into a strange van, huh.”
Reiner’s brow furrowed. “I know him though.”
“Ymir,” Bertholdt scolded. He slowly cocked his head and glared.
“Plus I know you too, Ymir,” Reiner continued. “I have vivid memories of you chasing Marcel in third grade. And then Porco chasing you.”
Bertholdt stifled a laugh.
Ymir glanced at her nails. “Oh, hm. I must not remember the last one. I must’ve let him chase me.”
“Say,” Bertholdt began to Ymir, “don’t you have work to get to?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I just care about your tardiness record.”
“Where do you work?” Reiner asked.
“Liquor store,” she replied. “Guess you don’t drink?”
Bertholdt was going to kick Ymir out of the van himself. She had all of his edge but none of his subtly.
“Not really, no.”
Bertholdt checked his phone. “Fifteen minutes until your shift starts.”
She grabbed her purse and slid for the door. “Heya, Reiner, did you know Bertholdt got his earring at Claire’s?” She rolled open the door. “Don’t smoke my whole stash while I’m gone.” She pressed a quick kiss to Bertholdt’s his temple. He remained stiff, then closed the van behind her.
“Sorry," Bertholdt said. "She thinks telling people she smokes and drinks is a personality. Which she doesn’t even do that often actually.”
Reiner chuckled. “How’d you two become friends?”
“She just started talking to me one day. Heh, she basically decided for me we were going to be friends. I appreciated it though. She was like a breath of fresh air.”
“Hm. And it’s alright. I’m not afraid of any of this stuff. I’m not going to clutch my pearls. That’s more Marcel’s thing.”
“Yeah, how are he and Porco so close when they’re both so...”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But they manage it somehow.”
Bertholdt pulled a leg to his chest. “So, you’re not as strait-laced as he is?”
“I’m hanging out with you in your stoner’s van, aren’t I?”
“No soup kitchens to run?”
“Not this week.” Reiner squeezed together his hands, his veins protruding. “So about that. You think maybe I could...”
“Could...?”
“If I could...”
“Reiner, don’t tell me you want to partake in the devil’s lettuce.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. That very kissable neck. “Yes. Yes, I really do.”
“You sure? You don’t have to try fit in or—”
“I’m a grown-up, Bertholdt. Trust me.”
Bertholdt reached for the lockbox but stopped short. “You ever smoked anything before?”
“No.”
He popped open the box and retrieved an old mint case. “So you’re a smoke virgin, huh?”
“Very much a virgin.”
Bertholdt let himself smile. “I really am corrupting you then.”
“Please, I’m corrupting myself. You can’t take credit.”
He nodded and set the box between them. ”Alright, I won’t then.” Bertholdt pulled out one of two already rolled joints. Reiner gaped at the sight. “You’re a hundred-percent sure?”
“Yes.”
Bertholdt lit up the joint and pinched it between his fingers. “Now watch.” Reiner observed with parted lips, then Bertholdt demonstrated an inhale. He choked a few coughs and then exhaled a plume of smoke. Then he grabbed a nearby half-full bottle of water and nudged it toward Reiner. “You’ll probably cough your head off the first time.”
Reiner took a deep breath and copied Bertholdt. Or tried. He hacked, his face turning red and eyes watering. Bertholdt patted his back and reassured him, then handed him the water. Reiner croaked out a “Thanks” and took many gulps.
Reiner finally started relaxing and Bertholdt noticed he made no objections to his hand on his back. So he carefully slid it around his shoulders. Reiner melted into his touch.
Bertholdt licked his lips. “I know an easier way.”
“Oh?” Reiner inquired, voice still creaking.
Bertholdt relit the joint, taking a hit and then closing his mouth. His gentle hand pulled Reiner closer.
Bertholdt leaned in, a small trickle of smoke escaping when he murmured, “Open your mouth.”
Reiner parted those wonderfully pouty lips. Recognition flickered across his features. He must have seen shotgunning on TV. They exchanged a stream of smoke between them. It was quiet enough he could hear his own flip-flopping heart.
Reiner let out the smallest of coughs, then swallowed. “I think I feel it already,” he whispered, unmoving.
“It’s too soon to feel it.”
“Must be something else then.”
Reiner studied Bertholdt’s mouth then locked eyes. Their lips met, stilling against each other before finding their places. Bertholdt reached for a place to set aside the joint and Reiner slipped a hand through Bertholdt’s hair. He shuddered at Reiner’s welcome touch.
Bertholdt tightened his arm around him and urged him closer. Letting out a hum as they continued to kiss, experimentally. Warm and tender. Lacking the fervor and lust he expected when they would kiss.
Reiner was someone to savored and explored. Not had and waved away.
They inched apart just enough to where their lower lips still brushed the other.
At last, Reiner spoke, his warm breath moistening Bertholdt’s chin. “Did you really get your earring at Claire’s?”
Bertholdt cracked up and his forehead fell against Reiner’s shoulder. Uncontrollable vibrations of laughter clenched his stomach. Reiner cackled too, almost in-sync with Bertholdt’s own belly-aching.
“It was a hand-me-down,” Bertholdt replied though an exhausted breath. “I didn’t go there to buy it.”
Reiner let out another giggle before his expression melted into warmth. His hand brushed a strand of hair behind Bertholdt’s ear where the earring shined. “You’re amazing.”
Bertholdt’s cheeks heated. “Now you’re feeling the weed.”
He shook his head. “Too soon, remember? Wanna pass me some more?”
***
A cloud of smoke blurred the air inside the van. The two lay on their backs beside one another. Reiner rested his head on Bertholdt’s shoulder. They had finished the joint, sharing kisses intermittently between talking.
Bertholdt had asked how the substance made Reiner feel.
”Like a pastel rainbow,” he had answered.
“Have any munchies yet?” Bertholdt asked after a stint of peaceful quiet.
Reiner made a low noise. “I keep thinking about shrimp-fried rice. I don’t even like shrimp-fried rice. Church never warned about this effect.”
“Was that not in Reefer Madness?”
“Ha. They didn’t show us Reefer Madness. Close to it though.” He sighed. “That place is so soul-sucking.”
Bertholdt turned a bit. “How so?”
He was silent a moment. “They keep pushing me into social work. Which I do like, but you know what I’d really like to study?”
“Hm?”
“Electrical engineering.”
“I remember you being in AP. You could definitely do it.”
“I’m also not sure what I believe anymore. Never told anyone this.”
“I think you should do what you want to do. Just making other people happy is overrated.”
“That was what you decided?”
“Yep.”
“Can I ask how come?”
He tugged at the end of his shirt, creasing it between his fingers. “My father was sick for a while. A long while. And while he was alive I was so eager to make him happy and proud of me for as long as he’d be there. Like how before he got sick he did track too, so I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He never asked me to, but I did just because it made him happy. My mom kinda guilt-tripped me into it though.” He pinched the fabric harder. “Then he died a few years ago and I was...”
“Yeah?”
“Relieved,” he said in a tiny voice. “Don’t get me wrong, it was horrible but it was like I was free from all that weight. Never told anyone that either.”
“I’ve known people in church grieving after someone who’s been sick a while died, and they always say there’s some relief. It’s not a bad thing. Totally natural.”
He smiled, albeit a tad sadly, and brushed out the dent in his shirt. “Thank you. So after that I started smoking, experimenting with a few drugs, and just started enjoying living while doing nothing. I just float around doing nothing anymore. It’s a waste of time, but it’s my waste of time, you know?”
“That sounds wonderful. Honestly.”
“I take it you’ve thought about doing the same?”
He scoffed. “A lot. I’d disappoint so many people though. My mom especially.”
“So does she know you're gay?”
“Kinda. She stopped asking me about girls a year ago for some reason and I started wondering then.”
He sighed. “Parents.”
“I’m a grown-up, damnit. I can stay out as late as I want and be as gay as I want.”
“And make out and smoke weed with unsavory characters in their creepy van.”
“Your van’s not creepy. It’s nice.”
Bertholdt idly stroked Reiner’s blond hair. “It’s my home away from home.” He sat up on his elbow and they exchanged a tender gaze. Then shared a few kisses once more. “It’s almost nine.”
“We’ve been here for... three hours?”
“Time flies under this stuff.” His face dropped. “You need to go home?”
“I always tell my mom I’ll be home by ten so... no.”
“Well, my mom’s not even home until tomorrow so I have an idea.”
***
“Again, you don’t have to.”
“No, no, no. I very much want to.”
“Okay. Let’s see how big are you.” Bertholdt gleamed. “As in, the bigger man for going first.”
They stood before a curving in-ground swimming pool. Both illuminated by blue glow of pool lights and Bertholdt itching from the warmth that clung to the air.
Bertholdt had suggested skinning dipping at his house. Very grateful his mother was away overnight.
The universe seemed to be on his side when it came to timing.
Bertholdt took a small stride back and watched Reiner shrug off his flannel overshirt. “Okay,” Reiner started, setting the garment on the lawn chair, “you have to start now too. Or it’s not fair.”
Bertholdt gave a nonchalant one-shoulder shrug and began with his shoes and socks. Twiddling his toes on the cool stone patio. He was about to break his own rule against showing too much skin before sex. But there was something about Reiner that made him want to forgo his personal rules. Running his actions through a filter of smoothness had lost its sparkle.
Reiner pulled his perfectly-pressed white t-shirt over his head. Revealing the dips and ridges of his sculped body Bertholdt had only caught hints of. The glow of the pool light made his skin look airbrushed soft. Bertholdt imagined brushing the back of his knuckles across his pecs.
Bertholdt removed his shirt next, a simple dark grey button-down. Next came their pants and Reiner’s sandals, leaving them in their underwear. Reiner sported briefs and Bertholdt boxers. Odd, Bertholdt thought with an internal chuckle. Tight underwear lowered virility. Was creating a nuclear family not what churches were fond of?
Bertholdt slid his thumbs beneath his boxers’ hem and slid them down his legs. Placing them along with the rest of his clothing. Reiner had done the same and they stood without a stitch of clothing and gapped by mere feet.
A blush swept Bertholdt’s face. Flashes of obscene thoughts soared through his head at Reiner’s nakedness before him. His countless times picturing Reiner nude paled in comparison to the real thing. Meanwhile Reiner looked Bertholdt up and down. His flitting eyes paused between his legs multiple times.
“I uh,” Reiner began with a stutter, “think you turned out to be the bigger one. You know, you got undressed quicker.”
Bertholdt gave him a jesting look. “I know it’s considered Christian to be humble, but don’t put yourself down like that.”
The two were both choking back laughter as they climbed down the steps together. Bertholdt at last caught a glimpse of Reiner’s backside.
Oh boy.
Bertholdt exhaled sweetly at the cool water on his now stickily sweaty skin. They swam to the middle of the pool.
“This is way better than what I had planned,” Reiner said, swimming a lap by Bertholdt.
“You swim much?” Bertholdt asked.
“Not really.”
He grabbed Reiner’s hands and pulled him backwards with him. “We can add it to our regimen if you want.”
“Will you be naked for that too?”
“It’d have to be at the public pool, so no.”
“Then I’ve lost interest.”
Bertholdt breathed a laugh and then spun him around. “Ah, you’re not so heavy in water.”
Reiner let out that laughter again that was infectious.
They swam back to the shallow end and rested their arms on the edge. “I like you like this,” Reiner said.
“Like what?”
“When you’re not so—” He stopped himself.
“So what?”
“It’s just, you don’t have to try so hard. To be charming.”
Bertholdt’s stomach sunk. Had he been that obvious?
“I hadn’t been...”
“The ice cream thing? As ‘pure’ as I am even I noticed that.”
“I see.” He went red.
“It’s okay. It’s really cute.”
Cute. Bertholdt hated that word. He’d always been termed ‘sweet’ or ‘cute’ and it grated on him. He began to take offense but Reiner’s loving eyes and lush smile melted it away.
Reiner could call him cute.
Bertholdt scratched his neck. “I uh, did maybe try a little hard.”
“Hey look, I’m not saying you weren’t extraordinarily sexy. But you’re also very cute when you’re flustered. Like now.”
Bertholdt pursed his lips, then swung around and placed his hands on either side of him, caging him in. He kissed him, all open mouth with sloppy tongues. Reiner sunk into it and gripped the ground hard behind him and slid his other hand across Bertholdt’s slick back.
“Is this cute or sexy?” Bertholdt whispered in his ear.
“Hmmm lemme think...”
Bertholdt ran the back of his knuckles across Reiner’s chest. His skin was indeed as supple as he imagined.
Reiner’s breath hitched. “Now that is sexy.”
Bertholdt kissed him harder. Both letting out little moans with each kiss. Bertholdt nipped across Reiner’s jaw and down his neck earning a small groan.
“Oh no,” Reiner murmured.
Bertholdt stopped. “What?”
“I feel dizzy suddenly.”
Bertholdt blinked. “Oh. Let’s get you out then.”
He helped Reiner up and out of the pool. They wrapped towels around their waists and sat at the nearby bench. Bertholdt held a hand on Reiner’s shoulder.
“Ahh damnit,” Reiner lamented. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. That can happen with first time smoking sometimes. And in my pool while we’re stoned probably isn’t the best first time.” He paused. “Unless I’m wrong for assuming—”
“No. You’re right.” His voice carried a bit of apprehension. “I assume you’ve...”
His reluctance to speak it out loud made him smile. “Yes.” He lightly massaged his shoulder. “So how’d you envision your first?”
“Eh you know, missionary with the lights turned low. Not very exciting.”
Bertholdt trailed his nails across Reiner’s back. He visibly shuddered. “Reiner, any way I can have you I’ll enjoy,” he purred. “I promise. That sounds amazing.”
He gulped. “Oh. Good.”
“Let me take you home to mama.”
***
Bertholdt held Reiner’s hand as they strolled down the sidewalk. Christmas displays stood loud and proud. A few wisps of snow floated down on the two. The festive ambiance nearly glittered. But paled in comparison to the sparkle Bertholdt felt from being with Reiner.
“Man, I’m starved,” Reiner said, patting his stomach. “You wanna eat somewhere?”
Bertholdt squeezed Reiner’s chilled hand. “Definitely.”
They found a small café. Bertholdt turned the knob, catching the glint of the wedding band on his finger. His insides glittered with love.
Bertholdt awoke with his wrist strewn across his forehead of messy bed hair. His leg hung off the bed. He basked in the coziness of the dream before the memory of the previous night flooded back.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Oh no. I’m gonna marry him.
He pulled his leg back on the bed and rolled over. A mix of glee and terror claimed his body. But a content smile crossed his lips.
I’m gonna marry that church boy someday.