Family dinners at the MacIntoshes had been a highlight of my week. Having their unwavering support throughout our relationship had been a gift to Breeze and me, a buffer against the usual pressures of living an out life. Sunday dinner had always been a safe space, and that didn't change when my father joined the party. Granted, spending time with us at the hospital helped normalize the situation but having Mac and Margie treat our relationship as if it was nothing special forced him to do the same. When he finally worked up the nerve to visit us in our own space, he wasn't thrown when Brion kissed me goodbye on his way out the door.
The precedent had been set, so when his older sister called that afternoon to suggest that we curtail our PDA for the evening Brion was understandably annoyed. "It's bad enough Bri's bringing home that white boy. I just don't think Terry is prepared..."
"Man, fuck Terry," was Brion's simple response before ending the call. But of course, that wasn't the end of it. Brenda called back twice before ultimately suggesting that I skip the tradition altogether. "So, which one of yall got a problem with me and mine, you or Terry," he asked, well demanded, and Brenda let out a quiet breath.
"Don't be like that Brion, you know I love you and Neville. And I've told you more than once how happy I am for both of you...it's just...Terry's from a different time..."
"So everybody gotta tiptoe around because you married a simple-minded jackass. Naw, fuck that, fuck him, and fuck you too for even suggesting I treat my man any different because your husband is a bitch. If it's about him, leave his punk ass home. Ain't nobody gonna miss him," he said and again Brenda let out a heavy breath.
"And how's that fair to me. You guys always exclude me..."
"It ain't about you Brenda, it's him and I'm tired of explaining that shit to you. So, no, I won't pretend not to love Neville because it might make Terry uncomfortable," he said, the last in a mock of her sometimes whiny tone. "Let him know he can catch these hands if he want to..."
"God I hate this family sometimes," Brenda said, though she laughed a little and Brion followed suit. "All I want is to have a nice night with my people...all my people."
"And you think I don't. I love this man Brenda, the same way you love Terry and Brielle love Graham but nobody ever asked you to curb that to save somebody else's feelings. I expect this from the world...anticipate it, but you, my own big sister who promised to always have my back. That's not cool Brenda and you know it. The fact that you even thought to come at me with this bullshit, knowing everything me and this man been through...it's almost worse than the bullets Brenda," he said with tears in his eyes and I heard her breath catch on the other end. There was a long pause and Brion looked to me, his face a mix of rage and desperation before the sound of sniffles came through the line. "You're my sister and I love you but I'm not about to let you or your husband affect how I live my life..."
"And you shouldn't," was her tearful interruption but still Breeze frowned. He knew his sister. "Can you just try and be nice...for me?"
"Don't you think that's something you should be asking him?"
"He's not the one threatening assault," she said in her attorney tone and Brion rolled his eyes. "I'm serious boy... and you better tell Daddy too. I'm not dealing with yall on top of Bri's flighty ass..."
"Nope, I don't want none of that," he said before ending the call and hurling his phone back into the house. I heard it bounce off of something soft before it landed and I shook my head at him. "Remember you used to complain about being an only child all the time, well I'd gladly give you one of mine..."
"I'm sure Brielle wouldn't mind having another big brother," I said smirking and he rolled his eyes. "And you asked me if I was gonna be aight...maybe I should just stay home."
"Now, don't you start that bullshit..."
"It's not bullshit Brion," I said, finally looking up from the pegboard I'd been "cutting" since he came into the garage. "You know me, bud. I'm not with all that rah-rah shit..."
"And that's why you got me," he said proudly and I couldn't help my grin. "Even if you wasn't my man, I'd hold you down Nev. You know that."
"So, I'm your man now," I said still grinning and he hopped down off his perch on my workbench, brows furrowed. "What? I'm saying you never called me that before. Liked that 'me and mine' bit too..."
"Oh, so you feeling yourself now huh," he asked with that cocky smirk of his and I shrugged my shoulders. "You should be, but don't try to change the subject. You're coming tonight and I'll do my best to keep my hands to myself...at least as far as Terry is concerned," he said as he took my face in his hands. "I meant what I said bruh," came before he kissed me, then pressed his forehead to mine. "Ain't nobody gonna stop me from doing me...or you for that matter."
"Okay," was all I could say with my stomach doing flip flops from his fingers tracing the spot behind my ears. And he knew it, smirked as he kissed me again.
"Shower in an hour?"
"Yes, please," I said before he disappeared into the house.
As it turned out, I couldn't wait that long. Once I noticed the rhythmic thud coming from inside, my tongue may have come out to wet my lips and blood rushed to my crotch. The heavy bag was a new addition to Breeze's home gym, and of all his workouts, it affected me most. The thought of him, no doubt shirtless dancing around the heavy bag, was all I could think of as I rushed through the last of my build. Unfortunately, it was as therapeutic for him as it was aerobic and I wasn't sure which brought him to it. He might not have enjoyed the conversation with his sister, but I was proud of him for standing up for us. And the things he said about me, I wanted to pin him down the first time he called me his man. Busying myself with some other mundane task usually kept me off him but I was beginning to find myself less and less concerned with how level the plywood slat that would hold my screwdrivers would be. The hooks that would hold my various hammers and mallets went up haphazardly because I couldn't leave a job unfinished before interrupting him. Brion didn't need any more fodder for his teasing of my lifelong infatuation with him. The fact that he gave himself to me the night before meant very little in that regard. I would always be his puppy, sniffing around for his affection regardless of how freely he gave it.
And with him working up a sweat in the basement, his affection wasn't the only thing I'd be sniffing. With all the hooks in place, all my home tools hastily stowed away, I headed outside to use the hose to rinse the sawdust off my hands and arms before letting Bruiser into the backyard from the fences on the other side of the lawn. Back in the garage, I shut the door and stripped down to my boxers so as not to track debris into the house before heading downstairs.
As usual, Breeze had his headphones on, no shirt, and a pair of sneakers that had seen better days. His shorts were thin, so thin that the thick elastic straps of his jock were unmistakable as he bounced around on his tiptoes. His back to me, I took a moment to marvel at the ripple that ran up from his low back to his shoulders as he let off a combination of jabs and uppercuts. Then he paused to rock his shoulders a little to whatever he was listening to and catch his breath. He shuffled his feet a few beats and was back at it, slowly working his way around the heavy bag until he saw me standing at the base of the stairs and winked. But he didn't stop his punches even as his eyes shifted down, no doubt noticing the tent in my boxer briefs.
"Yo, hold this for me," he shouted over his music and I shook my head, even as I moved to do his bidding. He continued shuffling his feet as I settled behind the heavy bag, holding it steady against my chest. "Good looking out," he said and blew me a kiss before he started punching again, all the while my eyes were glued to his chest. The rise and fall of his pecs as he paced his breaths. The remnants of last night still visible. The tightening of his abs as he threw each punch. Brion was a beautiful specimen of a man, and he knew it, pausing occasionally to make his pecs jump before letting off a barrage of blows that I felt through the bag. His caramel skin was slick with sweat at this point and the dank air in the basement was heavy with his scent but I couldn't do anything until he stopped for fear that he might miss. The last thing we needed was me going to family dinner with a shiner to explain.
"Do we need to talk," I shouted and he furrowed his brows a moment, then shook his head to dislodge his earbuds.
"Naw, bruh...I'm good," he said between pants as he landed a quick jab-cross-jab then switched his stance to southpaw. "Why you say that?"
"I'm saying...that escalated pretty quick..."
"Ain't nobody worried about that nigga," he said before delivering a final barrage punctuated by a haymaker that came from the soles of his feet. I stumbled back a step or two as he moved away, bouncing from one foot to the other. "He'll say something ignorant and Brenda'll get mad at him but start something with somebody else to distract us, one of 'em goin' cry, Pop'll either kick us out or go in the basement. Stop acting like you don't know," he said, waving his hand at me before grabbing his rope from a hook on one of the support beams. "That ain't why you came down here anyway," he said, smirking as he unfurled the rope. Just before he started to jump, Brion dropped his shorts and kicked them over to me.
