All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
pjalexander1753@gmail.com
PJ
D'n'M Part 3
From Chapter 18:
Dan, still reeling, still disbelieving, followed Dods out of the room and made his way slowly up the stairs. There was no way it could possibly be true about Beth, was there? Dods seemed like a decent guy, so why would he lie about something like that? It didn't make sense. As he walked into his room, with thoughts of Beth Harper ricocheting around his head, he was met by the sight of M who was standing by the bed, a hard and belligerent look on his face. It was obvious that he still hadn't forgiven D for not telling him about Zephan and that he had plenty to say on the subject, but as soon as Milo saw the look on D's face his own expression changed in an instant and he instinctively moved forward to pull Dan into an enveloping hug.
Chapter 19:
An hour later Dan and Milo were, once again, lying side by side on Dan's bed, fully dressed and both staring up at the ceiling. Milo had lost count of the number of times D had apologised for not telling him about Zephan's hateful mouthing off and letting him walk into that horrible meeting downstairs completely unprepared for the nasty things he heard there for the first time. Yes, he'd been angry with D, probably more angry than he'd ever been in all their eleven years of unbroken friendship, but he understood that he'd only been trying to protect him. But he wasn't a little kid and living as part of the de Beer family, he was more than used to having to take the rough with the smooth. But let's face it, he could never stay angry at D for long, the bond between them was just too strong. And underneath his anger and hurt and disappointment, he was grateful to D for so loyally having his back and also to Dods for speaking up for him. And Ms. Boyeda? She'd been outstanding. From what she'd said it was obvious that she knew he was gay but that hadn't, in any way, influenced her decision to allow him to keep his place in the squad, even to let him swim in the tournament. And after he'd missed practice, too. How awesome was that?
And as for the Beth Harper revelation, he certainly hadn't seen that one coming -- well done Dods - and he'd told D over and over how sorry he was that his great hope for fantastic sex and everlasting happiness turned out to be such a bi... well, you know what he meant. Of course he'd been sympathetic, as soon as he'd seen the stricken look on D's face as he walked into the room, how could he not? But inside, that was a different story. Inside he couldn't have been more relieved that, finally, D had had the blinkers taken away (more like ripped off) and now he was free to find a girl who was good enough for his BFF.
Breakfast the next morning followed the long-established Reed family weekend breakfast format. Roger Reed was first up as it was his job to get the coffee started, pick up the morning paper and make a start on the eggs. Once the smell of the coffee found its way upstairs to Helen Reed she got out of bed and went down to set the table, pour orange juice and put on the toast. That done it was her job to send the first text to the sleeping bodies upstairs. "Breakfast is on the table. Get up, get down here and get it!" was representative of the type of message that she habitually sent.
Several minutes later, coffee poured, Roger would follow up on Helen's first attempt at rousing the unconscious teenagers, but he did it in person from the bottom of the stairs. A typical shouted encouragement was, "Get your lazy bodies out of bed before I come up there and drag you out!"
On this particular Saturday morning, five minutes after his less-than-subtle instruction, and with the mound of eggs and toast rapidly disappearing into her husband, Helen was on her way, deliberately noisily, up the stairs, this being the signal that time was up and teenage bodies needed to be on their way down those same stairs. This morning it worked like a charm, as it generally did every Saturday, as two sleepy, dishevelled, underwear-clad boys burst out of Dan's room, raced down past Helen who flattened herself against the wall to avoid being mown down in the stampede, and landed in the kitchen like a tidal wave.
"Morning mum, morning Old Man," greeted Dan, "Save some of those eggs for us. We're growing boys and need to refuel."
And refuel they all did for the next fifteen minutes, more or less in silence apart from the occasional request to pass the milk' or after you with the butter'. Once the main intake had been completed and it was just a case of filling the corners, conversation started up. Usually this was no more than general enquiries about plans for the day ahead or requests for help with one or other of the weekend chores -- normal, everyday family stuff -- but not this morning, this morning there were threads from last night to pick up and loose ends to tie.
"How are you feeling this morning, M, about last night?" asked Helen, putting down her coffee cup and looking directly at him. "There was a lot to take in."
"Yeah, there was." Milo's response was noncommittal.
"How did you sleep after all that?" This was Roger.
"Okay thanks."
"Is there anything you want to talk through with us now?" Helen again.
"I don't think so."
"So there's nothing about what was said last night that is still bothering you?" Roger.
"Come on you two, what's with the interrogation?" Dan sensed that M was not at all comfortable with all the questions. "Give M a break. All he wants to do today is concentrate on being one hundred percent ready to swim this afternoon. That's right, eh M?"
Milo nodded his agreement, that was his sole objective. Having been given a second chance there was no way he was going to mess it up by dwelling on the upset and trauma of the previous evening. He owed it to all the boys on the team who were prepared to stand up for him, to do his best.
"Yeah, D's right, I need to focus on being ready to swim my best. All the other crap will have to wait till later."
"That sounds like a very sensible and positive plan. So what's the schedule?" asked Helen.
Just at that moment Roger's phone started to ring and, having glanced at the name and number of the incoming caller, he excused himself to take it in the home office.
"D and me are planning to go for a run," said Milo.
"After we've cleared up in here, of course," chipped in Dan before his mum could say anything.
"Then we'll shower and I'll probably take a nap," continued Milo, "And then I'll get ready to go to the pool for some stretching and a gentle warm up in the water. By then it'll be just about time for the meeting to start. You are coming, aren't you?" His voice suddenly sounded needy, almost pleading.
"Nothing would stop us," Helen assured him. "We'll be there to scream you to victory."
"More like embarrass him into sinking to the bottom of the pool," quipped Dan, which earned him a slap on the side of the head from his dad who was just coming back into the room.
"Ow! What was that for?" he squealed.
"For being a smartass," Roger replied. "And for that you can clear away in here on your own while Milo `Swimming Star' de Beer starts getting ready for his big day."
"Thanks Mr. R.," said Milo, grinning, as he got up to leave the breakfast table and the room. "It's good to see D being put in his place for once."
"Hey, what is this, get at Dan day?" complained Dan.
"Oh get over yourself," said Helen, "And get started on the clearing up."
Milo smiled, Dan pouted and the Reed parents each refilled their coffee cups and took them and the morning paper (all seven fat sections of it) out to the garden room -- another part of the Saturday morning ritual.
By the time Dan had cleared away, stacked the dishwasher and wiped the surfaces, Milo had peed, brushed his teeth and dressed in yesterday's still smelly running kit (why increase the amount of laundry when he was about to go and get hot and sweaty again?). While all that was going on Roger had given a run down to his wife of his phone conversation with Gerry de Beer and the likely fallout from what he'd been told.
The run was really more of a jog consisting of a few laps of the park and a sprint back to the house which Dan easily won, but then, as Milo pointed out, his priority was to save his energy for the competition and he was just using the run as a way of keeping loose. Dan, of course, mocked him for being a poor loser and kept up the teasing all the way through their showers (taken separately).
While Milo lay down for his nap Dan decided he'd take the opportunity to give Tom a call. It had been more than a week since the brothers had last had a face -to-face chat (they messaged most days) and a great deal had happened since then and Dan was keen to get Tom's thoughts about recent events. Of course, there was the horror story of Milo's last forty-eight hours to talk through but Dan was also interested to hear more about Tom's time as captain of the swimming team, especially the incident with the two gay boys, and he also wanted to hear his brother's take on Mrs. Margelles' blind-sider about him becoming a new Dan Reed. So much to share and talk over, which meant that Dan felt a greater than usual sense of frustration and disappointment when he kept getting a `number unobtainable' message every time he called up Tom on speed-dial. Huh! No doubt his dumbass brother was out having fun somewhere and had turned off his phone. Typical!
Helen put together a light lunch of tuna salad and fruit for the four of them before driving Milo over to the school in good time for him to prepare for the tournament. He was pretty quiet on the journey and she put that down to pre-competition nerves, so she was surprised that he didn't immediately get out of the car as soon as they pulled up outside the pool. After nearly half a minute he had still made no move.
"M, are you getting out?"
"I'm not sure I can," was the unexpected reply.
Helen tried a light-hearted response, "Well, you're gonna find it hard to swim fifty metres freestyle unless you do."
"But what if they don't really want me on the team? What if they blank me?"
This sudden lack of self-belief came as no surprise to Helen. She'd almost been waiting for it. "You heard Ms. Boyeda, she made it very clear that the rest of the team has one hundred percent got your back and don't want to swim without you. She's one tough lady and wouldn't say anything she didn't mean. She's not called the Ballbreaker for nothing."
Milo's head snapped round when he heard that, a shocked expression on his face. Helen was nodding and smiling broadly. After a few seconds she began to laugh and it wasn't long before Milo joined in.
"Now go in there and swim like there are sharks behind you wanting to bite your balls off!" As she said this she leaned across and took Milo's face in both hands. "And win or lose, just remember that we love you. You're family, not just now but for as long as you want. Now go. I can see Dods waiting for you."
Indeed, Dods was waiting for him and together they walked into the pool building and through to the locker room, Milo's heart thudding, thudding in his chest. At the door Dods stepped aside and let Milo go through first into the loud, echoing, excited space beyond. As he turned the corner the noise suddenly stopped as if someone had zeroed the volume control. Instantly Milo was convinced that the fears he had so recently shared with Mrs. R were coming true and he half turned, intending to escape before things had the chance to turn really nasty. But Dods blocked his way and suddenly the room was full of the sound of cheering and applause.
"Hey CB."
"Welcome back, M."
"We're all here for you."
"All you gotta do is go out there and swim like your life depends on it."
"Like there are sharks?" Milo asked a bemused Dods who shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and walked to his locker leaving Milo standing alone, a smile on his face, feeling as if he had come home.
Back at the house, an hour or so later, Dan was anxious that they should be on their way. He wanted them to get to the pool in good time so they could secure decent seats near the finish line. He knew just how important this competition was to Milo so it was hugely important to him to be as visible as possible so M would be able to see and hear their support. No way did Dan want to risk being relegated to the wrong end or too far back.
"Come on mum, dad. What's the hold-up? We won't get good seats if we don't set off soon."
"There's no rush, son. We've got plenty of time," replied Roger. "It doesn't start for nearly two hours."
"But there'll be traffic and you'll need to park and we need to get programmes and ..."
"Don't panic Dan. We'll be there with time to spare," reassured Helen. "Now where did I leave my phone?"
"Mu-um," whined Dan, sounding like a little kid.
"You sound just like a little kid," complained Roger, coming back into the room. "I can't find my car keys."
Dan's patience snapped, "Oh for fuck sake, let's just go!"
"You can keep that sort of language for when your father and I are well out of earshot. We've said we'll be there in good time and we will."
"Aaaagh!" Dan's frustration was off the scale. What was it with adults? Just as he was in danger of going way past the limits of acceptable behaviour towards his parents he heard the front door open and a familiar voice call out. It was Tom! As soon as he walked into the room the brothers collided in a tangle of affectionate limbs.
"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"And it's great to see you, too, little brother," came Tom's sarcastic reply. "The folks knew I wasn't gonna miss M's big day so they must have wanted to keep it a surprise -- brighten up your dull little life."
Their mum walked into the room. "Come on you too, we haven't got time to waste on all this brotherly-love stuff, if we don't go now we won't get decent seats."
"Aaaagh!" Dan didn't know whether to punch his brother or swear at his mother. In the interests of self-preservation he settled on a smile. "Okay, let's get this show on the road. Milo will be over the moon when he sees you," he said to Tom as they left the house, "Over the moon."
The noise at poolside was almost painful. All three teams were well-supported by enthusiastic and vocal fans, although Greenside Community High, being the host school, unsurprisingly boasted the largest contingent. The standard of performance had been high from the very first event with two of the three schools -- Greenside and Brookfield College (Zephan's school, but no-one was thinking about him this afternoon) -- battling it out for supremacy.
While he waited for his event - the fifty metre freestyle relay -- Milo sat with the rest of the team on the side of the pool. Well, truth to tell, there wasn't much sitting going on as, in all the excitement of a closely-fought contest, the boys jumped up and down and screamed encouragement to their team-mates in the water. Several times Ms. Boyeda took time to come and stand beside Milo, a public gesture of support that he very much appreciated.
Milo took full advantage of the breaks between events to take in the surroundings and soak up the atmosphere. At least, to the casual observer, that's what it looked like he was doing, looking round at everything that was going on and being glad to be part of it all. But appearances can be deceptive and they certainly were in this case. Milo wasn't idly living the moment, no, he was very actively living the dream -- a young gay boy in a room full of toned teenage flesh with nothing more than the scrap of a Speedo to preserve their dignity? Are you kidding? It was a classic case of the kid in the candy store. Milo's imagination was on over-drive as he stored up fuel for many future jerk-offs. This was way better than any on-line porn site.
A few metres away, in the Harper Smith Academy enclosure, was a breaststroker who's defined and refined body filled the space he occupied almost as impressively as his junk filled the front of his swim suit and his butt filled the back. Suddenly Milo knew what those Nifty stories meant by `edible buns'. Black and glistening -- both boy and suit -- the image presented a real danger to Milo's own boy parts which began to respond in the predictable way. Chubbing up, much less a full-blown boner, was seriously not an option in such a public place with only a Speedo to cover his own, potential, embarrassment. The trouble was, wherever he looked, his gaze was filled with yet more jizztastic stimulus material. He looked away from the black Adonis to see Dods, trademark grin beaming, walking towards him, and if anyone was gonna take Milo from chubbed to throbbing it could easily be his shave partner. Crap! Could this get any worse?
"Walk with me," demanded Dods as he took Milo by the arm and began to steer him towards the locker room.
"What? Why are we ...?" Milo didn't complete the question before Dods determinedly sshhed him.
"I'll tell you when we've got some privacy and especially when the Ballbreaker can't see or hear us."
This explanation was both puzzling and slightly alarming, but Milo thought it best to follow Dods' instruction, at least until they were out of eye and earshot.
Once in the locker room, and having checked that it was empty, he broke the silence. "What's going on Dods? Why do we need to be somewhere Ms. Boyeda can't see or hear us?"
"Cos she's not gonna like what I'm gonna say."
Now this really didn't sound good, if she wasn't gonna like it. Milo waited. "Well?"
"Our relay is the last event of the competition," said Dods.
"Really? Tell me something I don't know," was Milo's withering reply.
Dods ignored him. "And you're down to swim the third leg, handing over to me for the final lap."
"How dim do you think I am? I know that too. The team sheet has been pinned up since we got here earlier."
"Yeah, well that's not exactly how it's gonna be. You and me are gonna switch places so you can swim last."
"What! Are you out of your mind? She'll go ballistic and we'll both end up with broken balls -- if we get that lucky."
"Not if we win."
"But you're way faster than me. And what about you being captain next year? You'll have to kiss that goodbye for pulling a stunt like this." Milo was genuinely horrified by what Dods was proposing. It could get them both kicked off the team. Or worse. "And anyway, she'd be bound to put a stop to it."
"Once I'm in the water there'll be fuck all she can do about it, and she won't stop you swimming cos that would mean the team would be disqualified and there's no way she'd let that happen. So M, are you in?"
What a question. How could he possibly go along with such a mad plan? They'd both be lucky to come out of it with all their body parts intact and attached.
"I must be totally barking mad but, yes, I'm in." Where the fu ... where did that come from? Had he just had a complete common sense transplant? The idea of defying the coach, swapping places with Dods and swimming the last leg of the last event of the competition, with the prospect of being thrown out of the team, maybe even the school, was a total mind-blast. And yet he'd just agreed to do it. Crap!
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