Bowling for Turkeys

On the Day of the First Christmas

“MEOW.”

Milo opened one eye. “No,” he said. Garth was snuggled in behind him, naked and warm, those delightful muscles in his thighs, stomach, and arms fully flush against Milo’s softer, slenderer frame. He was not getting up.

“Meow.” The bed depressed with a satisfyingly hefty weight, and a motorboat rumble started in Milo’s ear, followed by the harsh pinpricks of biscuit kneading while Mumsy went to work on his primary job: poking tiny holes in Milo’s skin.

“No,” Milo mumbled again. “It’s six o’clock, Mum. You don’t get fed until eight.”

“Meow.” Chrysanthemum’s blocky square head pressed against Milo’s like the cat was trying to control Milo’s body with his mind.

“Feed him, Milo,” Garth rumbled. “Then we can sleep until nine.”

Milo moaned slightly and sat up, clutching the cat to his chest, grateful he still had his T-shirt on from Christmas Eve. Mari had gotten it for him—it had little felt birds all over it like the song, and Milo both loved and hated it, as Mari had intended. He’d worn it, but he hadn’t objected too much when Garth had gotten him to…. Well, it needed washing.

Which he only remembered when he stood up and realized he was absolutely naked from the waist down.

“My penis is cold,” he said in a panic. “Mumsy, I’m not wearing any underwear. Here, Garth, hold him!”

“Only if you promise not to call the cat Mommy again.”

But Garth threw his arm over Mum and touched noses. Chrysanthemum apparently recognized his savior from the day with too many people when he so unceremoniously arrived back in his former home. Garth had been Mum’s favorite perch when Milo was busy tossing Julia the squeaky, and if Julia decided that today the cat needed chasing, it only took one command from Garth to change her mind.

Milo was still learning the correct tone of voice for, “Leave it!” to work. He usually ended up squeaking and yelling, “ Mumsy !” and then Julia would do the unthinkable and actually catch the cat .

Julia had a couple of healing stripes across her nose and a newfound hatred/respect for Milo’s once-placid Chrysanthemum, but they were learning to coexist.

Chad, for the most part, stayed out of it, although Chrysanthemum (and Milo) did notice that when the cat was curled up on The Chad, Julia left them both alone.

Animal politics, Milo was starting to realize, were more entertaining than real people-driven ones, and way more fun than TV.

But sometimes they were damned irritating. With gasping little breaths, Milo hauled his sweats up his hips and trotted through the house, wishing for the thousandth time that he had set his thermostat to go on at six instead of seven. He hadn’t noticed at first because it had been summer, but Chrysanthemum’s insistence on being fed early was really uncomfortable when it was sixty degrees in the house.

Like an ash-colored moth, the memory flitted of Stuart yelling at him to conserve energy because “they” were paying too much money in heating bills.

Milo frowned. Those were coming less and less these days, those flashes of living with Stuart, those moments when he forgot he didn’t believe in the man anymore. Like a boogeyman from childhood, Stuart’s power had begun to fade the moment Milo had stood up to him.

Of course the sixty days of jail time for being caught with illegal firearms while having a restraining order did help. Stuart had been in county lockup since Thanksgiving, and would continue to be so until almost February. Garth’s friend, Doug, had contacts in the police department. Milo understood that the man who had gone into lockup was much different than the man who would be coming out. Did Milo think he’d been rehabilitated?

No.

But Milo was also pretty sure Stuart only picked victims who could be culled from the herd. Milo’s herd was still going strong, and he and Garth were constant stars in their own solar system, so Milo would keep his eyes open, but hope.

In fact today they were hoping themselves right over to Misty and Jonathan Parcival’s house. The two of them had made up, starting at Thanksgiving, and Jonathan had taken to throwing the balls for the dogs in the evening before he came in. Misty’s book was coming along wonderfully, she said, and while she wasn’t sure about shopping for agents yet, she mostly wanted to finish the manuscript.

Garth and Doug had finished her backyard modifications and her new porch office. It needed a space heater, she said, and Doug and Garth planned on putting sturdy blinds up before spring arrived and the Sacramento sun tried to cook poor Misty alive, but right now, she had a space of her own, and she got to share it with two big goofy dogs who thought the sun and moon rose with her smile.

Milo could tell Garth was happy that his friend was in a better place. And they were looking forward to a fancy Christmas. She’d told them both to dress nicely, to only bring themselves and the dogs, and to be prepared to sing.

Milo had hopes for one of those Christmases from TV where everybody sang carols, and Garth said it was very likely. Milo and Mari had been practicing their favorite Christmas tunes for the last two weeks whenever she and Georgie came by.

They came by a lot—sometimes one at a time, even, ostensibly because Georgie wanted to check on Chrysanthemum, but Milo was starting to suspect he just liked Milo’s duplex. Then Georgie brought two shelter cats to Jerry next door, and Milo realized that he’d found another friend/victim, but since it meant Jerry wasn’t alone anymore, that was fine too.

And Georgie did seem to enjoy watching movies or playing video games on their couch with Rick or Angela or Garth.

Knowing that Mari’s boyfriend liked Milo as much as Garth and Mari seemed to like each other made Milo seven kinds of happy.

More. Good relationships gave you more people in your life, not less. It was very important to know.

“Ooh…,” Milo muttered, running through the house. “It’s a bit cold, it’s a bit cold, it’s a bit cold.” He got to the kitchen and started rattling food in the bowls, not surprised in the least when he ended up dishing out wet food for everybody , although Chrysanthemum was the only one who got fed on top of the kitchen counter. Milo suspected Chad could steal his food if he wanted to go counter surfing, but Chad was much too well-mannered for that.

On Milo’s trip back, he peeked into the living room where his small tree sat, lighted and glowing softly like a good Christmas tree should, and realized Garth must have put some presents underneath.

Milo was tempted to go see what he’d gotten—there were presents under there for Garth too—but he wanted to get back under the covers with Garth more.

“Let me in, let me in, let me in.” He chanted when he got back to the room and charged under the covers, letting Garth devour him with the comforter, dragging Milo’s chilled body right next to his again.

“Aww…,” Garth mumbled. “I liked naked better.”

“We can do naked later,” Milo said. “Right now keep me warm, please. There is nothing sexy about cold feet.”

Garth laughed, and Milo cuddled up to the laugh much like he’d cuddled up to Garth. It was hard to believe he’d never known that a boyfriend would make laughter sexy. Even sexual. All Milo’s surprise about the adolescent sense of humor, and it was seeping in that finding sex humorous also meant it was human. Every touch was thoughtful, or sweet, or arousing, or funny. Laughter was one of the best parts of being a real boy, Milo thought, chuckling as Garth nuzzled his scruff against Milo’s neck.

“Did you check under the tree?” Garth asked suspiciously.

“No,” Milo said. “Too cold.”

“You’re not curious?” Garth asked, sounding hurt.

Milo turned in his arms. “I’ll love it,” he said without a doubt. “Because it’s our first Christmas, and I’m stupid with love. I love Christmas, I love you, I’ll love whatever you get me for Christmas—what?”

Garth pushed himself up on his elbow. “What you just said,” he demanded. “Did you mean that?”

Oh hell. What had he just said? “I love Christmas,” he muttered to himself. “I love you. Oh!” He smiled up at Garth, realizing the significance of that last thing. “Yes! Yes, I do love you. You’re perfect. You’re everything I wanted in a boyfriend. You make my life rich—as in, more people, more happiness, more laughter. You give me all that. I had no idea these were things I wanted, but you loved my dog when she was stupid, and you were kind to me when I was more so, and… well, you’re amazing. I love you.”

Milo grinned at him, proud and figuring that was the end of the discussion when Garth’s sober eyes made him realize that no, there was supposed to be a whole other half.

Oh no! What if Garth didn’t feel that yet? What if Milo had scared him? What if this was only sex—except no , it couldn’t be, because he and Garth had so much fun , and they loved their days together, and it couldn’t be only sex, it had to be more and—

“Don’t panic,” Garth said gently. “I love you too. I’ve loved you forever, Milo. I just… I had to know you were ready to hear it. Merry Christmas. I love you. I love you a lot . I want you to meet my parents this year, and maybe we can move in together when you’re ready. I want you to bring Chrysanthemum to my house, and I’ll get him a bed, and we can get a little dog pool for Julia and… and I don’t care what your baggage is, I want it in my life. I love you.”

Milo’s grin back felt like it was going to take over his whole face, or even his whole body.

“Nine o’clock?” he asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yeah, Milo. Nine o’clock.” Garth’s face was right over his as Garth held himself up on one elbow. “Why?” He grinned wickedly. “You had something in mind?”

“I think I need to be naked again,” Milo said, and then he sobered. “Because sex is awesome, and I think we need to use it to celebrate. What do you think?”

“Celebrate?” Garth asked.

“Christmas,” Milo said. “Merry Christmas, Garth. Your love is, like, the only present I’ll ever need.”

“Tough,” Garth murmured, brushing Milo’s lips with his while he felt Milo’s chest up under the dreadful Christmas shirt. “I got you new clothes and some walking boots and a swimming pool for your dog, and you’ll like it.”

Milo’s laugh was low and guttural—and sexy. Yes! Milo Tanaka could be sexy and flirty and happy and naked with this man. “I got you a key to my house,” he whispered. “And some other stuff, but the key to the house is the big thing.”

“Aw, Milo….” Garth didn’t say anything else. He captured Milo’s mouth with his, and Milo knew his clothes were going to melt away like bad memories did sometimes, or tears in the rain, or candy under the tongue. When the right person touched you, with care, with forethought, there was no bouncing or screaming or running or panic. The time for bowling for turkeys as an emotional outlet was gone.

Milo was going to make love with the best man he’d ever met, and they were going to talk about a bright and shining future, and Milo could trust that someday it would be so.