April
1998, United States of America
A couple
of weeks later, Hooch was moving round on crutches, the
walker discarded. He was getting better, but the pain had
only eased minimally. Still, he could piss and shit without
major distress, and if that wasn't a victory to be proud
of, then he didn't know what was. Getting back into the
living room, he watched Matt from the hallway. He could
see his profile, the handsome face and that perfect body.
Young, unspoiled, and if he could help it, Matt would remain
like that.
Watching
him for a while, until Matt lifted his head, cottoned on
that he was being watched, and cast a smile at Hooch. Another
one of those motherfucking dazzling smiles, the sort that
made Hooch's knees go weak and his mind step onto a merry-go-round.
He didn't quite understand why this particular man, this
'kid' had managed to crawl beneath his skin and settle down
inside his heart.
"See
anything you like, buddy?" Matt grinned.
"If
I didn't I wouldn't be here." Hooch made his way towards
the couch.
Matt
moved over, making space for him to sit down. "Smartass."
A lazy fist connected gently with Hooch's shoulder once
he had maneuvered himself to sit.
"You
alright?"
"Couldn't
be better." Hooch glanced to the side. "I just
managed to take a shit without screaming in pain, I call
that a glorious day."
Matt
laughed, "thanks for the gory details."
"Thought
you would appreciate it."
Sitting
comfortably in silence, each with a beer in their hand.
Hooch had his legs up on the stool, and Matt slouched with
his feet on the couch table, watching a football game. Hooch
realized quite some time into the game that he had no idea
who was playing.
"Matt?"
"Huh?"
Drawn to the game, Matt took a moment before he turned his
head, looking at Hooch. "What's up?"
"I
got to tell you something." And wasn't attack better
than defense.
"You've
turned into a right chatterbox lately." Matt grinned,
taking a mouthful of his beer.
Ignoring
the quip, Hooch went straight on. "I never told you
that I'm a masochist."
"What
are you talking about?" Matt laughed. "Was there
something in your lunch today?"
"No."
Hooch twisted to look at Matt, "but I think it's time
to tell you about the rest of me. Sometimes, I need to be
beaten and fucked up until I crack."
"You're
fucking kidding me."
"No."
"Then
why the hell do you tell me? Now? What's the point?"
Matt slammed the half empty bottle onto the table.
"I
need you to know."
"After
what, five years? I don't fucking believe it, you bastard!"
"Bastard,
because I didn't tell you, thinking that this part of me
had nothing to do with you?"
"Bastard,
because you fucking lied."
"How?"
"By
not telling me!" Matt's eyes were ablaze.
Hooch
had never seen him that angry and hurt before. "If
I had told you, what good would it have done?"
"I
would have tried to be for you what you needed."
"No,
Matt," Hooch's voice turned softer, "you don't
have it in you."
"What
the fuck are you telling me? You say I'm a pussy? I don't
fucking have it in me?"
"It's
not you, Matt."
"That's
not what you said."
Hooch
shook his head. "It's what I meant."
Getting
up from the sofa, Matt was fuming. "What you said
is that I am not what you want."
"That's
bullshit and you know it."
"How
would you see it then, if you were me? You tell me, after
five fucking years, that you need to…what the fuck
should I call it, get punished. And that is not telling
me that I'm not alright? That I'm not missing something?"
Hooch
quietly interjected. "You're not missing anything."
"Don't
you fucking kid me." Matt's hands were in fists and
he started to pace the small living room. "I thought
we had a relationship."
"We
do now. The question is if we had."
"You
always came back."
"Yeah,
because you were convenient. And pretty."
"Fucking
what? Convenient? You asshole."
"You
were, not saying that's what you still are."
"You
have the guts to tell me that?" Matt shook his head.
"Convenient? Like a fucking door mat?"
"No,"
Hooch said quietly, looking at Matt with a serious expression,
"but I am telling you the truth right now. Back when
it all started you were convenient. Great fun, fantastic
source for sex, and…pretty."
"Pretty?
Fuck you, Hooch."
"Yeah,
but you are."
"Girls
are pretty, I'm a man. I'm not pretty."
"What
would you rather be? Handsome? Adorable? Perfect? Stunning?
Gorgeous? Breathtaking? Beautiful?"
"Am
I?"
"All
of it and more."
"Shit."
Matt groused. He deflated, had some of the anger taken out
of him, but the sting was still there. "You're fighting
dirty."
"Delta."
Hooch beckoned Matt closer.
"Yeah,
and I'm outgunned. As usual." Matt reached for the
beer again, but a hand on his arm stopped him.
"You've
never been outgunned."
"You're
fucking kidding me again."
"I
told you before, Matthew Donahue, you are quite something.
Outwitted, perhaps, but never outgunned."
"Charmer."
Hooch
didn't reply immediately, just looked at Matt, fingers twisting
into the fabric of his t-shirt. Looking at him for a long
time, before he pulled him across and close. "If I
told you that I wanted to spend my days and nights with
you, live with you, as my partner, because out there, in
Hell, I realized that you mean the world to me? If I told
you that you are my sanity, my laughter, my lust, my love,
my comfort, my day and my night, my heat and cold and everything?
If I told you all that, would you think that translates
to 'convenient'?"
Matt
swallowed, staring at Hooch wide-eyed. "N...no."
"Damn
right. Now shut up, Donahue, and tell me that you'll spend
the rest of your life with me."
Matt
pronounced his next words very carefully:
"I
do."
Deliverance
