Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (37 page)

“Didn’t think camo was appropriate for Christmas.” Hooch pointed his gloved hand at the window. “Anything else that needs doing outside while I’m geared up?”

“No, all done,” John huffed. Matt’s dad was a man of few words but undoubted warmth. “Just got to watch the driveway the next few days.”

“Okay.” Hooch put the empty mug down. “I get changed, then. Let me know when it needs doing, I got the gear.”

Matt laughed at his dad’s surprised expression. “Delta.” He shrugged with a grin.

“Ah, yes,” John said at Hooch’s retreating back, listening to the footsteps on the stairs. “Just goes to show they are a breed apart.”

Matt almost choked. “Hooch is a breed apart alright.” He didn’t add anything despite his mother’s quizzical look.

The rest of the day went quickly, until it was time for early dinner, where everyone—as was traditional—ate too much, before putting on their winter overcoats and piling out to the cars to drive to Midnight Mass. Matt had somehow managed to persuade Hooch to mix up his military winter gear with civilian clothes, so as not to look like he was there to put a bullet in someone. His greatest achievement in that persuasion was that Hooch still had no idea how menacing he could be to a civilian, even when he didn’t try at all.

Hooch had become increasingly silent, but refused to tell Matt what was the matter. Instead pretending to be fine, with an expression meant to resemble a smile pasted on his face. With the cars filled with talking relatives, fidgeting children, and the various bits and pieces that were being taken to church, there wasn’t any opportunity for Matt to ask what was wrong. They soon arrived in the parking lot, everyone decanting from the cars, and Matt’s family was being swallowed up by the crowd.

Matt knew that Hooch would need a moment to prepare himself for the onslaught of the mass of unfamiliar people, and they waited for a few minutes on the far side of the car. “You look like you’re about to implode. What’s wrong?”

Hooch clamped down on his control so tightly, his teeth ground as he shook his head. “I’m fine. Just not big on churches, especially not the Catholic ones with all their sin bullshit. I heard enough of that for a lifetime.”

Matt blinked at the tone and the words. Hooch was an iceberg in more than just the obvious, but also in what was usually so deep below the surface: the gaping holes in his past, that not even the increased contact with his sister over the last few months had come close to filling in. Something was seriously wrong. “Do you want to go back?” Matt asked, “say one of us is coming down with a chill?”

“I’m not disappointing your mom.” Hooch’s jaw set into a determined line. “No bastard of a motherfucking priest from a lifetime ago is going to make me do that. I only regret I didn’t kill the fucker myself.” Hooch forced himself to take a deep breath and went into pokerfaced mission-mode. “Let’s go.”

Taken aback when Hooch moved off suddenly, Matt almost scrambled to catch up, hoping with all his might that he hadn’t just jumped to horrific conclusions from two simple sentences. He walked a reassuring half step behind Hooch as they joined the milling, friendly crowd in the parking lot, so wrapped up and muffled in their winter coats and hats and scarves it was difficult to tell who anyone was.

Matt stayed close to Hooch at all times, always an eye on him, making sure he knew where he was, but he didn’t need to rescue him. Hooch was doing a remarkably good job at pretending to be a normal socialized human being. When they moved into the church, aglow with hundreds of candles and beautifully adorned with an abundance of traditional Christmas decorations, Matt shepherded Hooch into a pew, so that he sat between Anne and himself. His mom looked at him with a carefully guarded question in his eyes, as she glanced at the tense man beside her, and Matt mouthed ‘help him’ at her, behind Hooch’s back. Anne nodded slightly, smiled, patted Hooch’s hand and sat back, waiting for the choir to start and mass to begin.

Matt sat close, legs touching, trying to be reassuring but feeling the tension in Hooch as he went through the motions. Obviously familiar to Hooch, even if, as he said, it was from a lifetime ago.

Hooch never knelt, stood instead when the majority of the congregation knelt at the appropriate times, and never opened his mouth to join in any ‘amen’ let alone the Lord’s prayer, nor did he sing any of the hymns. He remained tense throughout the rituals, staring straight ahead. To Matt it seemed as if he had retreated into his military mission headspace. Hooch’s tension increased during the sermon, his whole body strumming with what Matt was convinced was his urge to fight or flight. Not giving a damn that they might be observed, he placed his hand onto the rock hard muscle of Hooch’s thigh, trying to ground him with his presence. He noticed from the corner of his eyes that his mom gently patted Hooch’s hand again, then simply left hers on his, so that Hooch found himself sandwiched between two solid, warm presences, and Matt loved his mom for that more than ever.

At last the mass was over, and Hooch seemed to almost slump with relief. He took a moment before getting up, still safely between Matt and Anne, with Matt’s dad a step behind, who had clearly sensed that something wasn’t quite right. Walking down the aisle slowly, Matt tried to shield Hooch as much as he could as faces from the past came to greet him and to look curiously at Hooch.

Now that the organized part of the mass was over, Hooch managed to get back into his social-dealing mode, and while he left all the talking to Matt and his family, he did shake hands and didn’t look as if he was going to bite them off any second. Eventually, the crowds gathered outside at the snow covered and twinkling Christmas tree, to enjoy mince pies and mulled wine in the cold night.

Hooch slipped away at the first opportunity and was standing at the side, in the darkness. His hands in his pockets, he was gazing up into the clear black sky.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice behind him was soft. “Drink? You look like you need it.” Mulled wine in a Styrofoam cup. Practicality for a night when nobody wanted to be left with washing-up that could be avoided. The wine had been barely drinkable even before it had been boiled with sugar and spices in bulk and then ladled out into foam cups in a parking lot, but it was still warm, and alcoholic. Hooch looked rather in need of both.

“Thanks.” Hooch took the cup and sipped on it. Steam curling around his face. “Now I know why you are quite the something that you are.”

“Oh?” Matt took a step closer, but not touching Hooch. Too exposed out here, even though they were some distance away from the main crowd.

“Yeah, you have a great family. How a family should be.” Hooch drained the last of the wine in his cup, not giving a sign how it tasted to him. “Thank you for…” he hesitated, “for letting me be part of it.”

“You’re welcome,” Matt said, “in both senses.”

They stayed there, in the quiet and the dark, until they could hear the sounds of the crowd starting to disperse, and returned to the cars and the rest of Matt’s family. Anne and John gave Hooch a concerned look, but when it appeared that there was nothing to worry about, they returned to the task of rounding up sleepy children for the car ride back to the house.

They ended up one vehicle short, because the latest newborn had been taken home earlier, and both Hooch and Matt squeezed into the back seat with a couple of kids, between a child seat and a booster pad, refusing to let any of the older folks cram themselves in there. The younger one, a toddler of two, was so tired, she immediately drooped, snuggled up to the man beside her, and took hold of his large hand, which happened to be Hooch’s. His look of quiet panic was priceless, but Matt just shrugged with a ‘can’t do anything about it, buddy’ gesture and John and Anne in the front appeared to be oblivious. Hooch had no other option than to sit still, keep his hand where it was, and let the kid sleep. Only Matt noticed how Hooch gradually relaxed, his breathing evening out in sync with the kid’s. Who would have known.

Matt barely hid a smile on the way back to the house, and as he unbuckled his little niece and carried her to bed, more thoughts burned through his mind. He had no time to ask Hooch that night, because by the time he got to their room, Hooch was already in bed and fast asleep. Crawling in beside Hooch, spooning behind him, Matt tried to get some sleep, knowing that it would not be long before the morning, anticipating to be woken by the sounds of shrieking children at dawn.

* * *

A few short hours later, Hooch jolted awake at a blood curdling scream that had him jump out of the bed, ready to attack and defend, before the next high-pitched squeals and screams stopped him in his one-man mission. “What the fuck?” He stood in his boxers in the dark, chilly room, blearily scrubbing his face.

“I guess they liked the iPods,” Matt muttered sleepily, reaching for a pillow and crawling under it, to muffle the sounds. “Come back to bed, it’s cold, and they won’t be done for a while yet.”

“Whatever nice things I said about your family last night, scratch that. Today they are out to give me a heart attack.” Hooch grumped but slid back under the duvet. Glad he wore shorts when at Matt’s parents. The thought of racing downstairs stark naked and in full warrior-mode, made him shudder first, then chuckle against Matt’s skin.

Matt shifted backwards, craving the contact even as he grumbled at the chill. “Kids, Christmas, damage to ear drums. It’s traditional. I suppose at least we can be thankful that that’s one worry we’ll never have.”

“I would never have produced a kid anyway.” Hooch imitated an octopus as he wrapped himself around Matt to soak up his heat. “I got myself a vasectomy when I joined up.”

Matt started, and tried to turn around but was prevented by Hooch’s firm grip. “You couldn’t have been more than a kid yourself. Wasn’t that a bit drastic?”

“Was it?” Hooch would have shrugged, had he been in a different position. “I wasn’t going to fuck up anyone’s life, so I made sure.”

Several minutes passed while Matt thought of, and discarded, a dozen different things to say, and settled for leaning back further into the embrace. “I see.” Not that he particularly wanted to, but between what little he did know of Hooch’s family, Hooch’s amusement in spending his inheritance on his club membership and their collection of increasingly kinky sex toys, and an 18-year-old’s vehemence that he would not have children of his own, the picture was emerging, and it was not a pleasant one. “We’ll have at least until 8 before any of the adults go downstairs to calm them down,” Matt changed the subject, “unless you want to be subjected to endless showing off of presents, I advise we don’t go down before 8.30. Anything you want to do before then?” The tone suggestive, as was the pointed shove into Hooch’s groin.

“You sure the little monsters of your family won’t come storming up here demanding to show off their presents instead?” Hooch chuckled, pushing his groin back against Matt’s ass.

“Door’s locked, and they know that everyone will be down soon anyway.” He paused, grinned. “I’m quite sure we’re not the only ones thinking what we’re thinking this morning.”

Hooch scrunched up his face. “Don’t make me imagine sex amongst your family members.” He shuddered for good measure, “but I have heard that orgasms are the best way to start Christmas.”

“That it is,” Matt laughed, “Merry Christmas.” With that he wriggled onto his back, waiting for Hooch, who pulled off his boxers and joined Matt back on the bed, but upside down and on his side. In one swift motion he rolled Matt onto his side to face him, and sucked down on Matt’s cock while his own nudged against Matt’s lips.

Matt never saw Hooch’s grin, but he could hear the contented purr.

* * *

When they got downstairs, the living room was awash with wrapping paper, sticky tape, and excited children. There were lots of hugs and thankyous from the children (and the adults) for the presents. Hooch found himself sitting on the floor with two of the five-year-olds, watching one of their new DVDs with infinite patience and quite a lot of entertainment, while Matt was shocked to see his far-too-cool-for-this teenage nephew regress to childhood

or became a polite adult
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and actually was enthusiastic about his new iPod.

Hooch looked up from watching the Pixar cartoon, as Anne pushed a second mug of hot, steaming coffee into his face. He smiled his thanks, and went back to watching, while sipping his coffee. “Uncle Hooch?” One of the kids piped up.

It took Hooch a moment to catch on. ‘Uncle Hooch’ was a new one. It sounded strange to his ears, because his nephews had never called him that. “Yeah?” He balanced the half empty mug on his knee.

“We want to go and have a snowball fight later. You coming?” The kid looked so hopeful, Hooch couldn’t do anything but agree. “Yeah, will do.”

“Uncle Matt, too?”

Hooch glanced across at Matt who was chatting to one of his sisters. “I’m sure I can persuade him.”

The boy whooped and announced to the whole room that Uncle Hooch and Uncle Matt would take all of the kids out to a snowball fight later. Hooch’s expression of sudden panic was back once more, because ‘all of the kids’ had not been in his plan, but it was too late to protest.

After making sure that everyone was wrapped up warmly, Hooch in the all-black tactical gear that made the kids stare open-mouthed, Matt lead the way out to the large park in the next street that had been the site of many a snowball fight. As soon as they arrived, Hooch sorted the kids into two teams, more or less evenly matched in age and size. He put Matt in charge of one, himself of the other, and declared that this was going to be a proper, snowball war-game, before he spirited his team out of hearing distance for a ‘strategy meeting’.