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Officially.”
“Freddie, I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m
fairly confident that Cleveland is not next on the list for an aerial
strike.”
Freddie shifts underneath him, dropping his hand from Ira’s
shoulders to rest on the mattress. “Don’t be a smartass,” he says,
then more firmly, “I’m visiting my mother.”
“We just saw your folks over Thanksgiving. Your mother
gave me that awful scarf she’d knitted. It itches something rotten.
And besides, you know you can’t afford more time off work.” Ira
rolls over to position himself squarely on top of Freddie, press-
ing them together chest to thigh, and peers down at him through
the thick ginger curls that flop over his brow. Freddie absently
reaches up to brush them away, and Ira pulls a face. Ira knows
he’s pouting, but he’s warm and comfortable, and conversations
about Freddie’s mother should never be had while naked.
“I was thinking about a new job,” Freddie says carefully.
And while Freddie’s fingers trailing down his cheek and neck are
nice, Ira can’t help but suspect that Freddie’s playing at some-
thing.
“Oh? Old man Bates finally gonna take you on at the firm
like he’s been saying forever?” Ira kisses him sweetly before
Freddie can respond, rocking his hips just enough so that Fred-
die’s lips part and fingers flex. “That’s why you want to see your
mother. You want to brag,” Ira says, pressing a second, smaller
kiss to the corner of Freddie’s mouth, who turns his face away.
“I thought I would enlist,” Freddie says quietly. Ira freezes,
pulling back to prop himself up on his hands, one on each side of
Freddie’s shoulders.
“What?”
“I’m gonna enlist,” Freddie repeats. “In the Army.”
Ira feels the cold begin to leech in through the edges of the
blankets.
“I heard you the first time, Fred.”

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