Archive of Our Own ^beta

Barry told half the dorm. Obviously he did; he'd been born with a congenital inability to keep his mouth shut.

What Josh hadn't counted on was the fact that people believed him.

It was Thursday, and Josh, Rubin, and E.L. were walking back to their dorm from lunch. Josh and E.L. had their English lit lecture at 1:25; Rubin, Josh was pretty sure, had some kind of genius physics thing, but there was no guarantee that he'd actually go. E.L. was bemoaning their term paper and their professor's lack of hotness when, behind them, someone yelled, "Hey, you fucking fags!"

Josh turned around, because that wasn't cool to say to anybody, no matter how you personally felt about the subject—

Except then Josh realized that the person was saying it to him.

E.L. and Rubin turned around, too—E.L.'s expression perplexed and mildly offended, Rubin's downright murderous. It was a group of about five people, Josh saw—all wearing baseball caps from the same fraternity, and all standing multiple inches taller than he, Rubin, and E.L.

"What the fuck, Robertson?" E.L. said. Of course he knew them, Josh thought. "You got a problem?"

"You got no problem hanging out with a couple of faggots?" the frat boy, presumably Robertson, answered.

"I got no problem hanging out with my fucking friends, asshole." Josh noticed with nearly clinical detachment that E.L. had straightened from his usual slouch. He wasn't as big as any of the frat guys—and he was still taller than Rubin by an inch or so, and taller than Josh by several. We are so dead, Josh thought, and then, Oh, fuck, I am so expelled.

"Your friend here likes to take it up the ass," continued another of the frat boys, nodding at Rubin. "Likes it from the little guy."

Actually, it was the other way around, and we didn't really do that anyway, replied that strangely distant part of Josh's brain.

"Maybe it's a Jew thing," Frat Boy #3 contributed sagely.

Rubin crossed the space between them in three long steps and broke the guy's nose.

Later, Josh wouldn't remember much of the fight—he would try explaining it to his parents, to Tiffany, and, of course, to the campus police and various administrators, but it had happened so quickly. Rubin's fist hit the frat boy's face, and chaos broke out from there. E.L. was shouting things like, "Take that, you dumb fuck!" but Rubin was completely silent, and Josh tried to find him but he was also trying to defend himself, and then it seemed like half the campus got into the fight, some on their side, some not, and some Josh could have sworn were just there for the brawl. He felt his lip split, and someone much bigger tackled him from behind—and then that person was lifted off, not gently, and Josh pushed himself up to see Public Safety officers everywhere.

Two officers were holding Rubin and Frat Boy #4 back from each other. Frat Boy #3 was facedown on the ground. He wasn't moving.

Most of the combatants wound up at Health Services, but a few people, Frat Boy #3 among them, went by ambulance to Cayuga, the local hospital. The university health staff put Josh, Rubin, and E.L. on one side of the clinic, and the remaining frat boys on the other. "I'll let you stay together," the nurse-practitioner said, "but don't leave this room."

We are so expelled, Josh thought again.

Rubin buried his head in his hands. "Fuck," he said. "Fuck."

But he didn't shake off the hand Josh put on his shoulder, and he leaned against him, just a little.

"Wait," said E.L. "You mean it's actually true?"

Rubin looked up, expression angry and desperate, like he was ready to fight again. Like he wanted to fight again. "What part of 'fag' didn't you hear?"

"Well, hell, Barry told me some insane thing about walking in on you two, but Barry also thinks that Rubin is the reincarnation of some hippie who's come to deliver us from the evils of Rockefeller drug laws—exact quote, by the way, as if I could make that shit up—so I don't bet my nuts on what he says, you know?"

"It's true," Josh said. He wasn't exactly sure what was true, but it seemed important to say that something was.

Rubin had opened his mouth to—what? reply? retort? augment?—but was cut off by the nurse-practitioner coming back in, followed by a woman in a suit who looked distinctively administrative. Josh, who had made a habit of staying out of the administration's way, had no idea who she was, but she and Rubin clearly knew each other on sight. Most of the higher-ups knew Rubin; it was sort of that way when you were the best student in your year and yet never went to class. Her eyes flicked to Josh's hand on Rubin's back, to Rubin's side pressed against Josh's.

"Go ahead," the administrator said to the nurse-practitioner. "I'll talk to them when you're done."

None of them were terribly badly hurt: E.L. needed a butterfly on his eyebrow and Rubin had some serious bruises along his ribs, but no stitches were required and nothing was broken. The NP cleaned them up quickly and efficiently, then left them alone with their fate, or at least with the administrator.

The woman crisply introduced herself as an assistant dean for student affairs. "Joshua Parker, Rubin Carver, and Edmund Lansing." Edmund? Josh's brain said. "First, Mr. Carver, you should be relieved to know that the boy you assaulted regained consciousness on his way to the hospital and appears to have no injuries more serious than a mild concussion and the break of his nose."

Rubin met her gaze, but said nothing.

The dean continued, "There are a number of witnesses who verify that you started the fight."

"What the fu— I mean, what the he— I mean, he did not!" E.L. protested. "You didn't hear what those a— what those idiots were saying!"

"I threw the first punch," Rubin said without affect.

"Because that go— that fu— that piece of sh— that waste of skin called you a—well, some really bad sh— stuff. What the he— heck are you supposed to do, be all, 'Oh, yeah, baby, more'?"

"There are also a number of witnesses who attest to what was said before the fight broke out," the dean continued, a little more gently. "But, Mr. Carver, you should know that the fact that you were responding to hate speech and your exemplary academic record are the only two things keeping you from being expelled."

"I'm not sorry I did it," Rubin said. "I mean, I'm glad that guy's not brain-damaged or anything—at least no more so than he was going into it—but I'm not sorry I beat the shit out of him."

"I recommend that you not repeat that to the university judicial board," the dean said.

"I thought Rubin wasn't getting expelled!" E.L. interjected.

"He isn't. But you'll all have to go in front of the judicial board."

"Including those frat guys?" Josh said. It was the first time his mouth seemed to actually be connected to his brain and work. "Because it's not fair if Rubin, I don't know, gets suspended if they even do that in college, and those guys just get off."

"They'll go too," the dean said. "All of you will." She sighed, and suddenly looked much more tired than early afternoon on a sunny fall day would warrant. "Mr. Carver, I can't express how much I wish you hadn't thrown that punch. This entire situation would be very different if one of the Gamma Epsilon boys had started the fight."

"F— Screw that," E.L. said. "With all due respect, ma'am. It was a—what do you call it—preventative measure."

The dean left, her expression a strange mixture of exasperation and sadness. The NP came back in to sign them out, but they didn't leave immediately. It was just as well. Josh had only now just realized that the adrenaline had left him, and he was shaking.

There was a silence in the small room.

"Man," said E.L., "you gotta tell me. Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that? You full-on Jackie Chan–ed that dude!"

Rubin laughed a little and shook his head.

"No, seriously! You were like Jackie Chan and Jet Li combined into a nerdy kid from New Jersey! It was kung fu madness right on the Ithaca campus!"

"I used to get the shit beaten out of me on a regular basis in elementary school," Rubin said.

At first Josh couldn't imagine it: Rubin, considered one of the coolest kids on campus, brilliant slacker and legendary pothead, with a pool of willing and available men and women at his beck and call. But then he imagined Rubin as a skinny kid with glasses and uncontrollable hair, happier in a history book than on a sports field, and suddenly it made a lot more sense.

"So my parents put me in kung fu classes," Rubin went on. "To help me defend myself, or at least teach me that I could. I hated it at first, but I was pretty good at it, and I got my black belt right before I graduated high school."

"Damn!" said E.L., with admiration. "You are full-on Jackie Chan! Badass! I thought you were this mild-mannered guy with glasses, but naw, you're like Clark Kent! Shazam!"

Rubin laughed, genuinely, but then winced and rubbed his side.

"I think we missed lit class," Josh ventured to E.L.

"Whatever, I only go because that one TA looks like Angelina Jolie. Let's go back to the dorm and smoke, man. I need to get fucking high after all that."

Josh pulled himself to a standing position, then reached down for Rubin, who helped E.L. to his feet. They managed to make their way outside, where the sun was still beautiful, bright, and oblivious.

It was only when E.L. conspicuously raised his eyebrows and looked down at their hands that Josh realized Rubin had never let go of him.

Josh didn't let go, either.

There was another tense silence. The reprieve in the health center had been only temporary, and sooner or later, of course, this would surface, and they'd have to deal with it. Have to deal with the fallout from everybody, starting but by no means ending with E.L.

"Shit," E.L. said, drawing out the syllable. "You take our asses on a road trip most of the way across the fucking country to keep your girlfriend from getting your sex tape, and then you go homo two days later? Man! We should have just gone to Vegas!"

Josh knew he was staring. Rubin looked nothing but perplexed.

"I'm just sayin', dude. If you were going to gay out on her, you should have told her you liked cock and that you, like, accidentally her sent your Bad News Bears tape and to throw away the package and you'd send her another one."

"That's it?" Rubin said.

"What? The tape? Yeah, I can't believe none of us thought of that before."

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, you know about—about this, and that's all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say? I mean, if you've got a registry, I guess I'll buy you some shit off it or something." E.L. paused. "Do gay dudes do that?"

Rubin was coughing too hard to answer. Josh could only stare.

Rubin recovered from his coughing fit and started rubbing at his ribcage again. "That's just…not what I was expecting."

"I'm an asshole, not a bigot," E.L. said, like that made sense. "You like dick, I like pussy. More pussy for me."

"I like both," Rubin mumbled.

"You think I'm gonna get my hate on because a friend has twice the chance of getting laid? That's a cause for celebration! Although, less pussy for me, I guess, which is tragic. But if you and Josh are doing your thing, that's two less dudes on the market, so actually I win. I say, be as gay as you want."

"I'm so glad my sexual orientation furthers the cause of your already virulent sex life," Rubin said.

E.L. threw an arm around Rubin's shoulders. "Now there's the Rubin Carver we all know. Naw, all joking aside, I figure you and Parker are good for each other. You make sure he doesn't flunk out, he makes sure you do something every now and then besides smoke pot and read books. Whatever the fuck works, man."

They limped the rest of the way back to the dorm. If there was silence, it was companionable, broken by the occasional grunt or "ow."

"Porky's, dudes," E.L. said when they were in the lobby. "It's the only acceptable choice. I'll go get it and bang on your door in a few minutes. I'll supply the brews, you supply the weed."

Josh wasn't sure that drinking was such a good idea, but on the other hand, if they were smoking up too, it wasn't like alcohol would do much more damage.

Josh unlocked their door and went in first; Rubin followed, then closed the door and leaned back heavily against it, eyes closed.

Another silence.

"It's gonna be OK," Josh said tentatively.

"You don't sound all that convinced," Rubin said, opening his eyes.

Josh walked over to stand next to him. They didn't touch, but leaned against the wood side by side. "We're not going to get expelled," Josh said. "Nobody got seriously hurt. It'll be OK."

He nudged an arm behind Rubin, around him, and they both turned at the same time. They smelled like blood and sweat and disinfectant, but it didn't matter: Rubin was warm and solid and whole, and Josh had his hands on his back and in his hair. Rubin's heart was beating at a breakneck pace, and his breath was quick and uneven. They stood pressed tightly together, until Josh felt Rubin's pulse slow down to something near normal.

"It's gonna be OK," Josh whispered.

"I hope you're right," Rubin said.

"I'm right," said Josh, and answered the door when E.L. knocked.