Note to Readers: This story includes gay sex. If this offends you, or you are under legal age, don't read it.
It was autumn; the trees by the highway were like enormous explosions of brilliant color. My friend Tim was happily rubbernecking as we drove out into the country. Fortunately, I didn't need his help navigating. This was extremely familiar territory for me and it was wonderful to be getting back to it at last.
Tim and I had gotten to know each other 6 years ago while my girlfriend Fiona and I were doing our internships at the same law firm. Sadly, it had been a fairly unpleasant experience for me. It wasn't long before I got extremely sick of all the manipulation and double-dealing going on behind the scenes. Not to mention the complete and utter lack of respect for anyone who didn't have grey hair, a big belly and a wife – the stodgy partners would never dream of promoting a female lawyer, or of even hiring a gay one - and children. The only good side was getting to know Tim. He introduced himself to us on the first day, a bright and chipper man of average height and size, with neat brown hair and the most glorious green eyes that I had ever seen. I could see Fiona drooling over them and I have to admit that I completely understood the impulse; they were the sort of eyes that you could get lost in if you weren't careful. However, Tim was so extremely friendly and so clearly sincere that it was impossible for me to feel jealous or anything like that.
It didn't take very long for the three of us to become extremely close friends. It was partly that the atmosphere in the office was such that even sworn enemies would have been driven to form a bond so as to present a united front in the face of the abuse that we received from the more senior lawyers (I swiftly lost track of the number of times that I was interrupted in the middle of my work to go remake the coffee because some jerk didn't like the way it had turned out the first time). It was also that Tim was just a generally nice guy with whom I had a lot in common. We both enjoyed camping and fishing. All three of us liked puttering around in the kitchen, science fiction novels and folk music; a random spattering of similarities to be certain, but enough to make lunch hours and evening gatherings pleasant and interesting.
After about 4 months, however, I had had absolutely enough. One of the junior members of the firm had been assigning us massive additional projects and then stealing the credit for our hard work. I quit in protest, and decided to follow my real dreams of being an author. I got a job at a bookstore, which was ideal in every way that the internship had been lacking and started spending a fair amount of time just scribbling away. Fiona was extremely unhappy about this; she said that I was wasting my time, that I had simply given up because of a small rough patch and that this was the biggest career mistake of my life. We fought bitterly about this. I admit that I made my fair share of nasty remarks, calling her a pathetic doormat for being willing to put up with the tripe that the firm dished out and yelling that she was selling her soul for a hollow and unfulfilling job. The situation degenerated from there and we broke up shortly thereafter. Tim was a saint during this period. I was absolutely wretched. I felt like I had been a horrible boyfriend and a failure as a person. I was also depressed because the longest relationship of my life (over 2 years) had ended so badly. Tim consoled me, reassured me that I wasn't a horrible person and that some things just didn't work out the way they should. He made certain that I didn't just retreat into a pit of depression. He encouraged me to get on with my writing and that I should only return to the law if I felt it was right for me. He also helped bridge the gap between me and Fiona. She felt just about the same as I had and Tim had also helped to put her back together at the same time. Fiona and I made amends and became friends again. We had definitely fallen out of love with each other, but as friends we became almost closer than we had been as lovers. When Tim and Fiona started going out, I was happy for them.
Over the next few years, I managed to get a few stories published in magazines and anthologies. I had been spending most of my time deep in the process of writing a trilogy of books about a world originally populated by the survivors of a crash of a massive spaceship. I had been so absorbed in my work that I barely kept in touch with many friends. I dated scarcely at all, and didn't embark on any serious relationships during that time. I did manage to keep some contact with Tim and Fiona. After they completed their internships, they set up a small practice together and worked like mad to keep it afloat. After the first two years, they split up on surprisingly friendly terms and continued to work together in apparent harmony. The next year they won a high profile case against the old firm and their practice took off like mad.
Finally, about a month ago, I found an agent and a publisher for my trilogy, which meant that I would finally have a bit of money put away. I had also recently finished writing two other books and sent them in with hopes of an equally good deal. I decided that this warranted a vacation, my first in years. Tim had just finished with a really big case and was looking somewhat exhausted when he and Fiona came to my celebratory dinner. I suggested that a fishing trip might be just the break he needed. As we each had a fair number of miscellaneous tasks to deal with before either of us could leave the city, we agreed on early October as the best time to travel. I phoned my uncle the next day and confirmed that we could use his cabin up North on the lake. My cousins and I had spent many summers up there and I was full of nostalgia. He did warn me that the cabin wasn't in fantastic shape, since it didn't see a lot of use since "you kids" grew up and he and my aunt were getting a little old for the level of isolation up there.
Back in the present, I made the exit from the highway onto the main road which would take us to the small town closest to the lake. There, I went into the town hall to get my uncle's fishing permit stamped for the year while Tim picked up some hot dogs and hamburgers to grill in case the fish didn't bite. These went to supplement the already ample provisions which we had brought from the city. I poked Tim in the shoulder: "What is this, the cynical lawyer's approach to everything?" He just chuckled and said, "I'm just making sure that we eat well even if your memories aren't entirely accurate... There's no way the fishing could be as good as you claim it is." I stuck my tongue out at him and he just laughed. So did I.
We got back on the smaller road and followed it to the trail which led up through the woods to a tiny building. As I pulled the car up in front of it, Tim said, "You know, Marc, that's an awfully tiny cabin. It's going to be very intimate (waggling his eyebrows at me) in there". I rolled my eyes at him, suppressing a strange urge to blush, "That's because it's just the garage, Doofus. The cabin is twenty minutes walk up the path back there." Tim looked dubiously at me as he stepped out of the car, "You mean we're going to have to lug our supplies up there, a few bags at a time? That could take till sunset and it's already starting to get a little nippy." I grinned as I swung out of my door and went to open the padlocked garage, "I thought that you
liked
fresh air and exercise. Don't worry though, there's a pair of little wagons and some rope in here and two trips should do it easily. Just be glad that you're not the one who has to drag wood and fuel for the generator, that's a pain in the neck." We opted to take up the food and fishing tackle first and to return for our bags and linens afterwards.
By the time we made it to the edge of the lake we were both feeling considerably warmer. Tim paused to look out over the clear water and took a deep breath of air and said, "Boy, it's great to be back out in the country again. I didn't realize quite how much I missed it. This is a really nice place you've got here.". "I like it a lot too, but you may want to hold off on praise until we've seen that everything is running as it ought to. I wouldn't want you to jinx anything. You're right though, the scenery is breathtaking." I was thinking of the lake and the leaves when I spoke. Somehow though, the image of Tim in his flannel shirt and jeans, with those unbelievable eyes, his hair tousled by the cool breeze, seemed to pop into my head unbidden along with the word 'breathtaking'.
Damn, what am I thinking here? Tim's just a friend, and a guy. I've never thought about a guy like that before...
Fortunately, Tim was absorbed in the view and didn't seem to notice my inner soliloquy.
We passed by the woodshed on the way to the main cabin. We climbed the steps to the covered porch and I opened the door to the house and waved Tim in. Inside was a small living area with an old wood-framed loveseat, sitting facing the fireplace across a fake bearskin rug. Behind that was the dining area, with a small table, 4 chairs, and a woodstove, sink and miniature refrigerator. The glass door on the other end gave a great view showing the dock, boathouse and the lake. Unfortunately, after sitting empty for a while, the cabin smelled a little stale. I pointed to the doors on the right, "How about if you go open the windows in the bedrooms and bathroom to get a little airflow? I'd better go down and get the generator running for the fridge and hot water."
