Page 22 of Shrapnel

“This is some grade-a stuff, O Face,” Jamie said as he flipped through a magazine. “I would have pegged you as an online guy. But this is classic.”

Owen dropped the butter knife as he lunged for the magazine. It landed peanut butter side down on the counter, but Owen didn’t notice. Jamie held the magazine aloft, head craned back so he could read its fluttering pages.

“Big-titted milfs? This is somebody’s mother!”

The bastard had surprisingly long arms. Owen had to jump for the magazine, constantly foiled by Jamie as he laughed twisting around, taunting Owen by getting just close enough and then jerking it up.

“Ugh! Fuck you!” Owen finally jumped up, wrapping his legs around Jamie’s waist so he could literally climb him and snatch the magazine from his hand. Jamie’s chest rumbled with laughter as he supported Owen, wrapping his arms around him. For his lanky frame, Jamie was surprisingly strong. He seemed to have no trouble holding Owen.

Their faces were only inches from each other. Jamie looked like he was enjoying himself, laughing in the face of Owen’s struggles. He was warm from the shower, smelling like Owen, and wearing his clothes.

“Aw O Face, if you just wanted a cuddle, you could have asked.”

Owen punched the right side of his chest and scrambled down. His fingers hurt where the punch landed, and he stared at Jamie’s chest. Was he wearing some kind of necklace? No that wasn’t right. It was too far to the right, just over his pectoral.

Once the magazine was disposed of, and Owen’s embarrassment dissipated, they sat on the couch with their sandwiches.

The magazine had been his father's. Owen found it when he was looking for some of his dad's old Atari games in the garage. Curiosity more than arousal had seen Owen taking it. Squirreling it away in his apartment like he was some guilty kid rather than a grown-ass adult who had actually touched real women before. Like any virile young person, Owen had spent time in the online world of porn. Normally he wasn’t embarrassed by it. But the idea of Jamie seeing,touching, his porn was mortifying.

The man in question was currently curled up into the corner of the couch, lips smacking as he took tiny bites out of his sandwich. He licked at the peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth, staring down at the sandwich as if it was a gourmet dinner.

“Where have you been?” Owen asked, knowing he might regret the answer.

“Mmm.” Jamie swallowed the bite he was chewing on. “Canada, Alaska, then Bolivia.”

Owen was a little surprised he answered. “Business or pleasure?”

“Business is always pleasure, O Face,” Jamie said coyly, cocking his head as he leveled a look at Owen. “How is your new job?”

“It’s good,” Owen said with an embarrassed shrug. “I mean, I’m just the new guy and I’ve never worked at a big office like that. I haven’t been doing anything exciting yet, but we’re coming out with a new game that…”

Owen lost himself to talking. For a big mouth, Jamie was a surprisingly good listener. And he was smart. He peppered Owen’s explanations with appropriate questions. Innocuous things that made Owen realize he was absorbing, mulling over the things he said rather than just letting the words filter through his ears.

He rarely had a chance to sit and talk to Jamie. They had done quite a few operations together. Hell, they’d even run for their lives together. Owen had reset one of Jamie’s fingers when he dislocated it, then Jamie patted his back when he vomited the moment the digit clicked back into place.

“The picture on your dresser,” Jamie began after he finished the sandwich and they had just had a lengthy discussion on the final season ofGame of Thrones. “Is that your family?”

Owen groaned. The picture was cringy. Taken at the end of a family vacation to the Grand Canyon. Fourteen hours in the car with his sister singing off-key and shouting that Owen was making faces at her the moment his mom wasn’t paying attention. He was. But his sister didn’t have to be such a snitch. When they got there, tired and crabby, his father had insisted on a photo. With the guard rail in the background and faint blurs of the canyon that couldn’t be distinguished in the cheap camera his dad bought, they posed. His sister had smiled cutely, and Owen had given her bunny ears and accidentally blinked.

“Yeah,” Owen shrugged. “It’s one of those memories. You know? The cheesy ones that were agonizing when you’re in them but kind of fun looking back.”

Jamie shook his head. “No, I don’t know.” He turned on the couch, elbow propped on the back of the couch to rest his head on his curled knuckles. “Will you tell me?”

The baggy shirt shifted, and Owen could see deep bruises around Jamie’s neck. Distinctly finger-shaped contusions that were fading to a jaundiced yellow on the edges of the ugly purple centers. Owen stared at them. Jamie was asking about his corny family vacation after someone had just…

Owen swallowed and met Jamie’s eyes. He saw Owen notice, but he didn’t cover them up. He didn’t do anything. Perfectly still, waiting for Owen’s reaction. For some reason, he reminded Owen of his mom at Christmas. Perched on the chair, legs crossed and hot chocolate in her hands. She always wore this amused expectant expression as she watched her kids open the gifts she swore she wouldn’t buy them.

Jamie was looking at him like that—like he was waiting for a reaction he already knew would happen.

Owen tried to look deeper. To see some hint of vulnerability. Some sort of weakness, a chink in the ever-present glibness. He couldn’t find it. He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t there or if he was just not familiar enough with Jamie to find it.

He almost asked about the bruises. The words collected on his lips, ready to spill out but he snatched them back. There was something about the atmosphere. Jamie looked fine, acted fine, but there was a fragility between them. Owen's words would shatter it and he didn’t know if the pieces would cut them both.

If you had asked him about it previously, he would have told you that Jamie was impossible to hurt. A rubber ball, the harder you throw it the farther it bounces. Self-contained and solid. But he had just felt the warmth of his skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, see the quiet pleasure on his face from a simple sandwich offered without being asked.

Jamie was human and Owen had never realized it.

So he told him about the Grand Canyon. About drinking too much cherry Icee and puking all over his sister's stuffed cat. About his mom ‘accidentally’ losing his father’s mixtape so they didn’t have to listen toPearl Jamto the Grand Canyon. Then he told him about his theories on fast food treaties and how there is a secret cabal between the big three that keeps them all in business.