Chapter 9: Only Friday

Johnny Brownie had been waiting four days to say that word.

He felt Daniel go rigid in the dark, and for a second he was sorry.

"You heard," Daniel whispered.

"The door was open a hand's width. I was holding a tomato."

"Johnny, I..."

"I know."

"I was angry and frightened, and it was the easiest thing to say to my mother. I didn't mean..."

"You meant it on Monday."

Daniel's breath caught.

"You meant it on Monday," Johnny said again, gently, into his hair. "And on Tuesday I think you were still planning it. That's all right."

"It isn't."

"I made myself a deal. If you still wanted me gone by Friday, I'd go. I'd pack the truck and tell Grandma I'd done what I could."

Daniel's arm came across him and held on hard.

"Do I?" Daniel asked, in a cracked voice. "Want you gone?"

"You tell me."

"No."

"Then it's only Friday," Johnny said, and kissed the corner of his jaw. "It's a day, and I'm still here."

He felt Daniel shake with a long, silent breath.

They lay like that until it passed.

Johnny woke at dawn with the window gone grey and a warm weight pressed against his back.

He lay still and let himself be happy.

He had been awake since five on the farm every day of his life, and he had never once woken up so slowly.

Daniel's arm was around his waist, and Daniel's mouth was against his shoulder blade.

Daniel's cock, half hard, pressed against the small of his back.

Johnny smiled into the pillow and pushed back.

Daniel stirred, and made a low, rough noise.

"Morning," Johnny said.

"Is it?"

"It's Friday."

Daniel breathed out a laugh against his skin, then moved his hips in a long, slow roll.

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