Busted (17 page)

"Nah," Mike shot back. "I wouldn't do that to you, Steve. It'd raise the property values too much, and that'd be hell on your taxes." Mike opened a door in the hall and went down to the basement.

"
Some
people's brothers," Steve said with a fake grumble.

Mary gave him a quick kiss. "And you love every minute."

"Mmmm," Steve said. He pulled Mary to him and kissed back in earnest.

"Let's get the game, Toby," Joe said. He was feeling a little embarrassed at the open affection, and wasn’t really sure if Toby ought to be seeing that sort of thing.

"It's OK, Uncle Joe, they always do that," Toby said. He was very matter-of-fact about it.

"Still, some privacy is always nice," Joe said. He opened the closet that Mary had mentioned. It was filled with coats, with a few baseball bats and a hockey stick. On a shelf above the coats was a stack of board games. Joe gave a smile, looking at them. He used to love to play them when he was young. He was always pestering Sean, his best friend, to play. Joe's family never went for things like games, preferring TV or heavy drinking for fun. Sometimes both. Sean's family had a collection, though, and he'd play them whenever he could.

"Hold this, please," Joe said. He handed his plate to Toby. Candyland was almost on top, just under a battered Scrabble set. A favorite, he guessed.

"Do you play Scrabble, Toby?"

"Sometimes," he said. "I help Papa. We always win." Toby was positively beaming. Joe couldn't help but smile.

"You really love your papa, don't you?" Joe asked. He had the game tucked under one arm, and took his plate back with the other.

Toby nodded vigorously.

"He's a good man," Joe said.
Even if he's a jerk. A really sexy jerk
, he thought. Joe shook his head. That sort of thinking was just going to get him in trouble. Alex didn't deserve that.

Toby wasn't going to be deterred by adults saying things that were so obvious they didn't bear remarking on. "C'mon, let's play!"

Joe found himself dragged to the living room. It was cozy, with wall to wall carpet, a worn cloth couch and low wooden coffee table against one wall and a pair of recliners. The TV was already on, and giant ants were menacing Los Angeles. Mike and Bob were in the recliners, watching intently. Chuckling, Joe set up the game on the coffee table, sat himself down on the carpet, and started to play.

* * *

Joe was snoring softly when Steve nudged him awake. At some point, after a half dozen games of Candyland, he and Toby had managed to fall asleep. Joe was still sitting on the floor. Toby was curled up in his lap with Joe's arms wrapped around him.

"Hey, wake up," Steve said softy. "It's time to go to bed."

Joe looked up, entirely confused.

"Uh… what?"

Steve grinned. "It's getting on to Toby's bedtime. He likes you, but I'll bet you'll be more comfortable if he sleeps on something other than you the rest of the night."

It had gotten dark outside, and the movie had shifted over to something in color. There was a robot carrying some guy around, with weird electronic music playing in the background. Mike and Bob were still in their chairs, watching intently.

"This is the best part," Mike said. Bob nodded, rapt.

In unison they intoned, along with the movie, "
But the Krell forgot one thing. Monsters, John. Monsters from the id!
"

Steve and Joe both looked at them like they were insane.

"Do they do this all the time?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. If there's a guy in a rubber suit, they're all over it. You can't imagine how much I'm looking forward to Bob dating," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"You've just got no appreciation for classic cinema," Mike said.

"Hey," Joe said. He squinted at the TV as he stood up, lifting the still-sleeping little boy. "Isn't that guy the one who used to do those Naked Gun movies?"

"Now
those
were classic cinema," Steve said.

"Right! Remember that thing with the crutches?"

"Oh, right, and the one in the bathroom with the mike?"

"And the wheelchair!"

The two of them broke out laughing. Mike and Bob gave them disgusted looks. Toby stirred in Joe's arms. He gave a sleepy glance up at Joe, grabbed him tight around the neck, and went back to sleep.

"I think we better get him home while I can still breathe," Joe said softly.

"I'll come with you," Steve said. "I want to check on Chris. He usually comes over."

"Probably avoiding me," Joe said quietly. The thought made him uncomfortable, though he wasn't sure why. It wasnt like they were friends, or had any reason to become friends.

"Nah," Steve said. "He's been feeling kind of lousy on and off the past few months. Must’ve decided to crash and lost track of time."

The evening was pleasant. The storms had swept through while he'd slept and washed the air clean, leaving behind cooler weather. The skies were crystal clear and full of twinkling starts, and the crickets were working overtime layering chirps over the faint traffic noise.

Steve led Joe around the back of Chris' house. The lights were out, but between the street lights and the half moon it was more than bright enough to see where they were going.

The back door of Chris' house was unlocked, and opened into the kitchen. There was a faint smell of bacon, and a less faint smell of alcohol. Joe wrinkled his nose. The smell brought back bad memories of his childhood, things he'd not thought about for years. He tensed up, and Toby stirred a little in his arms.

"He drinks," Joe said. His voice was flat, but Steve caught the anger under it.

"Sometimes, sure," Steve said. "Everyone does, but he doesn't overdo it…" He trailed off as they left the kitchen. They could see into the living room. It was dark, but the lights through the front windows of the house were enough to clearly show a figure prone on the couch. The smell of alcohol was stronger, and made Joe's eyes water a little. Small glints of light outlined the bottle that had fallen to the ground in front of the couch. A limp hand dangled just above it.

"Where's Toby's bedroom?" Joe asked. He tried to keep his voice under control but he knew he didn't do a good job. He wasn't sure he really cared. He just didn't want Toby to wake up.

"Upstairs, second door on the right," Steve said.

"PJs?"

"He likes Scooby Doo. He should probably go pee or he'll wet the bed."

"I'll take care of that," Joe said. "You can check on Sleeping Beauty." There was venom in Joe's voice.

Steve winced. Chris had been acting a little strange the past few months, but he and Mary had chalked it up to the after-effects of the divorce. The past week and a half, ever since Chris had brought Joe in, it was like he'd fallen apart. He'd been crankier than usual, and while Chris had denied it Steve knew he’d had come into work hung over a few times. And now this.

Sighing, Steve walked into the living room and flipped on the lights. That didn't do anything for Chris. He was sprawled out full length on the couch, still in his boxers and t-shirt. He didn't look too bad, but there were spots on his shirt where he'd spilled things. At some point he'd made a try for food, judging from the mustard still smeared on his face.

At least he was breathing and hadn't puked. That was something. There'd been more than one morning in college that Steve'd had to clean up after Chris overdoing it. But, then, Chris had had to do the same thing for him. That was ages ago, and they weren't undergrads any more.

Steve felt a momentary stab of guilt. This was probably his fault. He'd been trying to throw Chris and Joe together. He'd thought maybe that would get Chris to admit he'd been dating Joe on the side, or break through whatever delusions Chris was having. He wasn't sure – Chris had been the Psych major, not him. Steve wondered if maybe he'd made the wrong decision.

He knelt down next to the couch, avoiding the small wet spot on the carpet where the bottle had sloshed. "C'mon, Chris," Steve said. He shook Chris' shoulder. "You've gotta get up, buddy. It's time for bed."

Chris mumbled something incoherent and tried to roll over. He only managed to fall off the couch. Steve grabbed him as he went and broke his fall. That left Chris flat on his back on the floor. At least he was awake. Mostly.

"Oooh, spinny," he said.

"Yeah, I bet," Steve grumbled. He shifted to the side and tried to haul up on Chris' arm. He hoped Chris wasn't so drunk he couldn't walk. Steve was pretty big, but so was Chris, and carrying him upstairs wasn't something Steve was looking forward to.

“Alex is back, Steve,” Chris slurred.

“I know, buddy,” Steve answered. “I’ve seen him, remember.”