Fear had driven Rick away. Fear of the unknown of how his family would react. All his life his parents and siblings had been his rock, the solid foundation that made his life work. The thought of losing them left him feeling lost and alone.
That night, after making love with Dale that last time, he'd awoken shivering. Anxiety creeping over him, fear knifing into his gut. He rose quietly and seated himself in one of the oak chairs that Dale had kept in the bedroom. He watched Dale sleep, so innocently, so peacefully. He contemplated his future with Dale, wondering if he could really sacrifice his family for him. What if things didn't work out? He'd find himself totally alone, no lover, no family, no friends. What if he ended up resenting Dale for his loss? Tears crept down his cheeks at the thought of this joyous love he felt, turn into something ugly and hurtful. Panic rose, twisting his guts, forcing him up and out. He ran.
Five days later, Rick was still punishing himself. He did every shit job he could find, just to keep himself occupied. At night he'd drive into Smiley's, and drink with the regulars under the table. Everyday he woke with a hangover, puking his guts out. Pale and shaking, he'd return to work, sweating the remaining alcohol out of his system. And then again, he would return to Smiley's for another round of poison each night.
He also ate little. Guilt and anger kept his stomach twisted when the alcohol wasn't of sufficient quantity to make him forget.
He wore a brace on his left hand. Cursing himself for his cowardice, agonizing over Dale and what he must be going though. He was blinded by rage at himself and the situation. He punched a support beam in the barn, acquiring a hairline fracture. The six by six beam suffered no damage.
That night at Smiley's, he sat alone in a booth, contemplating that magical night with Dale. His friends and those clinging women, knew better now than to disturb him. Rick had become surly and uncommunicative. He made it clear he wanted no company.
He sat and studied the pictures he'd pulled from his wallet. His parents, his siblings and their spouses, assorted nieces and nephews.
A picture of Dale filled his mind. Dale joking with him, teasing him. Dale fixing him coffee⦠that indulgent smile curving his sweet lips. Dale working with him, side by side, laboring through his exhaustion. Dale under him, their bodies joined, his words of love filling Rick's ears and his heart.
Tears filled his eyes and rolled dolefully down his cheeks. Suddenly, he slid out of the booth, dashing the tears away. He staggered out of the bar leaving early, his alcohol buzzed brain seized with the notion to see Dale.
He had to see Dale. Had to be with Dale.
Rick drove slowly with exaggerated care. He had to get to Dale. He arrived to find the house pitch dark, not surprising as it was after one in the morning. He exited his truck and climbed the front porch steps. Hesitating only a moment, he began knocking at the door. He saw a light come on behind the concealing curtains. The fabric parted slightly, Dale's face appeared. His expression was at first annoyed, then startled. Rick caught a fleeting glimpse of infinite pain that was suddenly blanked.
The front door opened. Dale kept the screen door locked, it stood between them.
"What are you doing here, Rick?" he question coldly.
"I had to see you, to tell you how sorry I am that I left." he paused then blurted the words he couldn't keep inside, "I had to tell you how much I love you."
Dale blanched, drawing back as though struck, his voice quivered, "You're drunk, go home." He closed the door.
Rick heard the dead-bolt click. He turned away, shocked as his heart shattered. Sliding to his knees on the porch floor, wracking sobs shook his body. He thought he'd felt pain before. He realized it was nothing compared to this. Dale hated him. His life was over.
He didn't hear the door open, didn't see the figure that stood over him, until warm arms encircled him. Dale's scent filled his nostrils, he fumbled his arms around that precious body, holding on for dear life.
Dale's murmured words penetrated his consciousness, "It's not fair. Where were you when I cried? Where were you? Where were you?"
Rick finally realized that Dale was crying too. "I'm sorry baby, so sorry, I was scared, I didn't know what to do. I know I hurt you. I didn't want to. I didn't know what to do. I just didn't know what to do."
Dale pulled away, "You were scared? You didn't know what to do? You should have talked to me. That's what you should have done. You think I wasn't scared too, after all the shit I've been through?"
Dale described in short pithy sentences, his failed relationship with Tony.
Rick stared at Dale, the realization of just how deeply he'd hurt him, seeping in. He rose on unsteady legs and turned away.
"Where are you going?" Dale demanded.
Head hanging, Rick explained, his voice a defeated mumble, "I know you can never forgive me
Dale. I want you to know, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You deserve someone a hell lot better than me."
He placed a foot forward, preparing to walk away one final time.
"I swear to God, Rick Hunter, if you walk away, I'm going to kick your fucking ass." Dale growled out each word, his voice a fierce growl.
Rick turned, surprise giving him an almost comical expression. Hope filled his eyes.
"Do you love me?" Dale asked quietly.
Rick nodded.
"Do you promise from now on to share every problem with me? To talk to me? To give us a chance to find a solution together?"
Rick nodded again.
"Get your ass in the house." Dale ordered.
A ghost of Rick's patented grin made a fleeting appearance on his face as he was chastened. He entered the house.
Dale led him into the kitchen, indicating he should sit. Rick's eyes followed him non-stop as Dale fixed a pot of coffee. He placed a steaming cup in front of Rick and sat next to him. He studied Rick with a critical air as he sipped his coffee.
Reaching out, he brushed Rick's hair back from his face, "Looking a little rough there, farm boy."
Rick closed his eyes momentarily, nodding his agreement. He shivered at Dale's familiar yet fleeting touch. He opened his eyes, running a critical assessment of Dale
"You look a little haggard yourself." he observed quietly.
"It's been rough." Dale admitted.
Rick broke eye contact, his gaze fastening on the table.
Dale sighed, "I didn't say that to make you feel bad, Rick. I just figure we should be truthful with each other. I'm guessing you've made yourself feel almost as bad as I could." He grazed his finger-tips over the brace on Rick's hand. "What happened here?"