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"Hey, Benny, did I luck out today!" Vecchio exclaimed as he hauled two bulky bags in from the hallway. "Found a full canister of nano out behind—well, you don't need to know where—not even activated yet. And the outdate's only last July. And someone in one of those big houses on the East Side decided that recycling their organics was too much bother this week. Don't expect they'll mind losing out on the fine when the haulers don't find what they threw out!" He dropped the bags on the floor, winced, and moved to close and secure the door with a little more caution. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, Ray." The retired Mountie came around the corner from the kitchen nook, moving stiffly.
"Damn it! I told you to take your stuff today." Vecchio fumed. "It's not like you don't need it. Don't know if you've noticed, but the Stoics have been and gone, about thirty years ago."
"And have you taken your dose yet, Ray?" Fraser inquired.
"That's different."
"It's not. You know how your knee acts up when you don't. You're limping."
"Limping? That's just an act I put on. You know that. For sympathy. The chicks love it." Vecchio hauled his bags into the kitchen nook, striving valiantly not to favor his left leg. He pulled out the nano canister, and cracked its seal, cautiously. Smelled okay. As much as you could trust that, especially as his nose wasn't as reliable as it used to be. He crossed himself, in a gesture prompted far more by habit than by belief, these days, and dumped the contents into the appropriate port on the autochef.
Insufficient substrate.
"I know that, you—oh, never mind. Benny wouldn't approve." Vecchio lifted the other bag and dumped its slightly malodorous contents into the hopper.
Processing.
"Let's see. Filet mignon, you wouldn't do, never mind that it's still politically incorrect. Maybe a little macaroni and cheese. Or what passes for it these days." Vecchio shook his head. "Probably a good thing Ma passed before it got so you couldn't get a decent lasagna without breaking seven different laws." He poked at the buttons on the autochef.
"Enter. You need to press the 'Enter' tab when you're through," Fraser advised, from behind him.
"Backseat cook," Vecchio stabbed a finger at the button on the bottom left of the pad. The one in red. "I know how to do this, Benny. Have we ever starved?"
"Well—"
"That wasn't my fault. There was an advisory about it from the Mayor, himself," Vecchio's tone was far too solemnly respectful to be believed, "and we got a hopperful of pseudo-beef jerky the next week, didn't we? I'm surprised you even mention it, Benny."
"Mmmm. Makaroni and cheeze, I see."
"Yeah. Got something better in mind, do you?"
*Ching* Meal (2) prepared.
"No." Fraser opened the autochef's drawer and pulled out two steaming bowls. He took them over to the shelf—table—and set them down. From a basket sitting next to the water dispenser, he chose two plastic beakers and a mismatched assortment of cutlery in variously colored plastic, with one solitary stainless steel fork, which he took care to lay at Vecchio's place-setting.
"Okay. Then don't complain about it. I know it's been makaroni and cheeze three times this week. Until we can afford to get a replacement menu card for the one that died, it's a choice between that and makburgers—or ohtmeel." Vecchio perched himself on his stool and watched as Fraser got himself situated. "Mmmm. Go ahead. Eat up. Might taste like sawdust and glop, but it's nutritious sawdust and glop, at least now the 'chef's got some nano to work with."
"I wasn't complaining, Ray. I was making an observation." Fraser took a mouthful of his meal. "I appreciate your hard work in making sure we have food on our table." He took another mouthful. "Besides, flavor is much overrated."
"This flavor sure is," Vecchio said, looking at his food without enthusiasm. He sighed, then dug in.
He beat Fraser to the cleaning up, once they were through eating. Probably wasn't fair of him to take advantage of the fact that he could get around easier, despite his knee, but Benny could just lump it. Vecchio could tell from the look of the place that Fraser had been busy while Vecchio had been out scrounging. Everything was picked up and folded and put away, even the clutter Vecchio had left at the foot of his cot.
"Told him I was going to pick up that stuff when I got back," Vecchio muttered to himself, giving the bowls a wipe and stowing them back in the 'chef's drawer.
"Ray?" Fraser said.
"Oh, nothing," Vecchio said. Fraser waited. He was good at that. "Well, it's just that you didn't have to wear yourself out picking up after me today. I'd'a got to it."
"I know you would have," Fraser smiled at him, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling up. "But I like to make a contribution, too."
"Oh, you do. Don't worry." Vecchio came over and steadied Fraser as he got up from the table. "You and me, we get along pretty well—better than most of the oldies out there. It was a good idea I had, back in twenty-eight, us moving in together."
"I believe it was my idea, Ray." Fraser eased himself down into his chair.
"Nope. Mine."
"I distinctly remember—"
"Oh, well, if you're going to start with that distinctly remembering stuff, I'll give you that maybe you had something to do with the idea—but I bet you never expected we'd still be here after this long."
"It is surprising. The statistics show that the average survival of a citizen on Basic Security is less than ten years."
"Well, we do have my retirement, and yours, too, what's left of them after Uncle Sugar takes his cut. And speaking of that—" Vecchio turned back to the kitchen nook and took a small vial from the cupboard. He tipped two capsules out onto his palm and took them and a glass of water over to the other man. "Here. Take them."
"But, Ray, we don't have enough for both of us for the rest of the month. I've worked it out: if I skip every third day, it won't have an appreciable impact on my health, and I can go back to the full dose next month."
"Oh, right. You're planning on staying in bed the whole time? You're creaking now, Benny. Another week of skipping doses and you'll be damned near immobile."
"My exercises—"
"Will do a lot more for you if it doesn't half-kill you to move. Take 'em, Benny." Vecchio stuck his palm under Fraser's nose. "I've got a line on a little job that might make us some extra money."
Fraser took the capsules and contemplated them. "A legitimate enterprise, I assume, Ray?"
"Yeah. You know me—I might do a little wheeling and dealing, but if something's not on the level, it's not worth the trouble. Take your medicine, okay?" Vecchio handed Fraser the glass of water. "Seems that there's this guy doing research for a 3V series, going to be set back in the 70's, and he wants to know about cars. The nitty-gritty details—what it was like to drive something with a little class. You think I can't talk myself into that? I'm the best expert he's likely to find around here, and I'll make sure he knows it."
Fraser laughed, then swallowed the capsules. "You won't tell him, will you, Ray, that you'd pay him to be able to brag about your Riv."
Vecchio smiled smugly. "Nope."
"Then, if we can afford my dose, we can afford yours, too." Fraser handed the glass back to Vecchio. "Will you get your capsules, or shall I get them for you?"
"Oh. All right. Don't get up, okay?" Vecchio went back to the kitchen nook, briefly considering a little misdirection and sleight of hand—but Fraser's eyesight was as sharp as it ever had been, at a little distance, anyway. No point in trying something he'd never get away with. Vecchio dispensed himself a glass of water, then swallowed his capsules.
"Thank you kindly, Ray."
"Don't mention it." Vecchio sank into his chair, and leaned his head back. He felt his left knee warm, then the throbbing started to ease off. His eyelids sagged shut. "Ahhh."
"Mmm, Ray?"
"Yeah?" Vecchio said, not opening his eyes.
"I don't wish to disturb you if you're planning to have a little nap, but the environmental ration accounts were updated today, and what with the rain last week, we've been allotted two extra showers this week."
"Really?"
"Really. And I've taken the liberty of reserving a half-hour in the bathroom this evening, if you'd care to take advantage of it.
"Can we make it a hot shower this time?" Vecchio asked.
Fraser reached back to the shelves behind his chair and picked up a bottle of lotion. "Almond scented. Mrs. Duvall in 602 wished to express her thanks for your having seen to the extra lock on her door, last week."
"Oh." Vecchio flushed.
"What is it?"
"Uhh, you remember yesterday, when I was late getting home?"
Fraser nodded. "You said you'd been delayed because your bus broke down."
"I lied."
"I'm sure you had a good reason," Fraser said.
"Oh, yeah," Vecchio said wryly. "A great one. I was embarrassed, Benny."
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Duvall stopped me in the lobby and said the lock was sticking. I went up with her and looked at it. It wasn't. She's trying to put the moves on me, I swear."
"You're still a fine-looking man, Ray. It's understandable."
"Fine-looking. And here I was thinking your eyes were still as sharp as ever." Vecchio ran a hand back across his skull. Even the fuzz had been just a memory for decades; he didn't know why it was sometimes still a surprise to feel all that skin. "She's a sweet old lady, okay? But I'm not interested." He stood up with an air of decision. "How about that shower?"
The bathroom was down at the far end of the hallway. Vecchio carried their towels and soap—and the lotion—in a bag slung over his shoulder, as he and Fraser made their slow way there, bathrobes flapping around the calves of their legs with each step. Fraser was moving a bit more easily now, as his medication took effect. They were in luck: no one else seemed to have decided that this was the perfect time for a shower. Vecchio coded open the door, held it for Fraser, then shut it firmly and listened to the security bolts snick shut.
The water didn't take long to warm up. Vecchio took Fraser's robe from him and draped it over the rack, then steadied him as he stepped out of his slippers and into the big square tub. Kicking off his slippers and dropping his own robe, Vecchio stepped in at the other side of the tub, then pulled the shower curtain closed. He adjusted the shower nozzle to direct the spray over the both of them; the hot water felt wonderful. He let it play over his body for a moment before soaping up. Turning, he let Fraser scrub his back, then returned the favor. They'd long since agreed that that was far easier than trying to make elbows bend in a direction they hadn't wanted to even back before the turn of the century. After he'd rinsed off the soap, he stood in the streaming water while Fraser washed his hair. Gone to white some years ago, it was still thick, if not quite peltlike. The shampoo rinsed out, Fraser readied himself to leave the tub, but Vecchio caught at his arm.
"Hey, come on. Indulge yourself. Indulge me. Just enjoy the hot water for a couple more minutes. It'll turn off when our ration's done."
"All right." Fraser closed his eyes and relaxed under the spray. Years of persuasion from Vecchio had left him a little less resistant to such suggestions. This particular instance wasn't too great a lapse into sybaritic pleasure, though, as the flow of hot water abruptly diminished to a trickle, then stopped.
"Okay. Now we get out," Vecchio said. He stepped over the lip of the tub, then braced Fraser as he stepped out. Picking up the fluffier of their two towels, Vecchio draped it around Fraser's shoulders, then used the other towel on himself. He finished drying between his toes, then reached for his robe.
"Lotion," Fraser said.
"Okay, okay. I guess I don't want to be scratching at my dry skin for the next few days. Just don't expect me to go thanking Mrs. Duvall."
"You won't have to, Ray. I thanked her for you."
"Great."
Basted in almond scented lotion until every crease and wrinkle he could reach gleamed with the stuff, Vecchio handed the bottle to Fraser. "Do my back?"
"Of course, Ray." Fraser poured out a dollop of lotion and smoothed it over Vecchio's back, then held the bottle towards him.
Vecchio shook his head. "You, too."
"You know my skin doesn't suffer from dryness the way yours does. The advantages of bathing in cooler water—"
"Cooler, schmooler. I talked you into a hot shower this time; the least I can do is talk you into greasing yourself up afterwards."
"If you think that's best." Fraser smoothed the lotion over his skin, then handed the bottle back to Vecchio. He raised his eyebrows.
"What? You want your back done? Turn around, then." Vecchio anointed the pale shoulders, then drizzled a line of lotion down Fraser's backbone and spread it outward to either side. The scar from his bullet was still obvious, ugly. Vecchio laid his palm upon it.
"Ray."
"All right. I know." Vecchio let his hand rest where it was for a moment longer, then sighed and patted the spot gently. "Long ago, right, Benny?"
"Right, Ray."
Back in their home, Vecchio hung their towels to dry and put away their bath things while Fraser moved about the room tidying it up.
"You want to stay up a little while longer, or do you want to call it a day?" Vecchio asked.
Fraser adjusted the position of a book on the little table next to his chair. "I find that I'm pleasantly fatigued, but please don't feel that it's necessary for you to retire right now if you don't wish to."
"Nah, I'm tired, too," Vecchio said. "It's a nice tired, though. Clean and warm and—fluffy."
"Fluffy?" Fraser said, laughter coloring his question.
"Yeah, fluffy." Vecchio grinned. "I guess I must've started thinking about it like that back when I had hair, or something, but the feeling's the same, even bald." He rubbed his hand over his scalp. "Fluffy." Fraser's chuckle followed him as he went to the sanitary closet in the corner of the room. Vecchio relieved himself, then washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Coming out of the closet, he flapped a hand at Fraser. "All yours."
"Thank you."
When Fraser came out of the sanitary closet, now clad in very old combinations, Vecchio turned out the main light, the little lamp between the cots casting a subdued glow over the room. He'd turned the covers down on both cots, and gave Fraser the support of his arm as the other man lowered himself onto his bed. "Comfy?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Okay." Vecchio turned the lamp to its lowest setting, and settled down on his own bed. He watched the ceiling for a while, and could tell from his breathing that Fraser was also still awake. How many nights had they spent like this? How many more would they? Vecchio scratched at the hair on his chest. Life took some unexpected turns, didn't it. Some of them were bad, but others were better than he'd really had a right to expect.
"Benny?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad you're here."
"I'm glad I am, too, Ray."
"Benny?"
"Yes?"
"Do you remember what it was like, when we were young?"
"Vividly."
"It's different, now."
"Well, that's obvious, Ray."
"No, I mean things are different. Back then, if we'd been living together, and if somebody like Mrs. Duvall had given us a bottle of hand lotion, and if we'd taken it, it would've meant that she was meaning something about what she thought we were."
"I take it that you're not referring to the use of lotion for easing dry skin."
"No, I'm not." Vecchio took a deep breath. "Did you ever think about it, back then?"
"Of course."
Vecchio sat up with a jolt which triggered twinges in every joint all the way down to his toes. "Of course? What do you mean, of course?"
"I mean of course I thought about it, Ray. We spent a lot of time together; we were close." Fraser shifted on his cot. "I cared for you. I still do."
"Why didn't you ever mention it?" Vecchio asked. "And don't be obtuse. You know what I'm asking, and I want to know the answer."
"Ray. I never had reason to expect that you'd appreciate my telling you my thoughts on that subject. Under those circumstances, my bringing it up would have been an imposition."
"Oh."
"Would you mind if I asked you if you ever thought about it, Ray?"
"Are you kidding?" Vecchio dropped his head into his hands. "I thought about it all the time. It made my life hell."
"I see."
"No, you don't. I didn't mean it like that, Benny, and God knows I didn't mean to hurt you by saying it that way. You know me and words. It was more like—I didn't feel guilty about it. I didn't hate that I felt that way about you. I hated that I could never, ever, do anything about how I felt, not without hurting you. And you trusted me. It was really hard, Benny." Vecchio heard his voice waver.
Fraser's cot creaked, and then he was there, beside Vecchio. "Here. It's all right, Ray."
There was an arm around his shoulders, and warmth down his side.
Fraser said, "You got over it, though, didn't you? It got better? Didn't it?"
Vecchio lifted his head. The light glinted off Fraser's eyes. Vecchio scooted over on the cot. "Come on, sit down properly. There's room for both of us if we don't mind squishing up together." He got Benny turned around and sitting beside him, his legs stretched out under the covers, right next to Vecchio's. "It got better, yeah. I got used to it, maybe. You do slow down after a while, too, even if you're Italian; that helped. And I had you for a friend, and that was enough. Maybe because it had to be enough, but still, it was enough. Like I said before, Benny, I'm glad you're here. We've had a lot of years together, and I've always been glad you were here."
"I've considered it a privilege to know you, too, Ray Vecchio." Fraser said.
"That's my Benny." Vecchio's arm went around his friend.
"Our discussion does, however, bring one or two questions to mind."
"And those would be—?"
"Enough time has passed that it's probably only of theoretical interest, but I do find myself wondering what would have happened, back before the turn of the century, if you had known that I would not have rejected any overtures you might have made."
Vecchio chuckled. "I can give you an answer to that one. I would've found a way to seduce you, we would have spent a lot of time in bed, and when it got to be now, we'd be right here, just like we are." He paused for a moment. "We might have just one bed instead of two cots, though."
"Ah. My other question does touch on that." Fraser found Vecchio's free hand with his own, and raised it to his lips. "After all this time, would there be any point, do you think, in our modifying our sleeping arrangements now?"
"Any point besides making one of my fondest dreams come true, do you mean?" Vecchio said. He turned his hand over and smoothed it across Fraser's face. "That was another, by the way. Well, I don't know. I expect a lot of people would think it was pretty absurd, us thinking about getting it together at this time of our lives. But if you want to, and I want to, what business is it of theirs if we give it a try?"
"I like that answer, Ray."
"I thought you might." Vecchio moved his hand, investigating new territory, and Fraser responded in kind, and while their actions thereafter might very well have seemed absurd to an onlooker, there was no onlooker present to make such a judgement, and the experience was actually one which proved to be full of affection, laughter, and warmth, and which culminated in a surprisingly passionate conclusion.
"First thing, once we can afford it, is we're getting that new bed."
"Yes, Ray."
"I wouldn't mention it, except your knees are bonier than they used to be."
"Yes, Ray. As are yours."
"And I want to be able to at least try to spend a lot of time in bed. Like I said."
"Agreed."
"And to show you how much I care about you, Benny, I'm even gonna let you get the last word this time."
"That's very gentlemanly of you, Ray. Thank you kindly."