Deal With the Deviled Eggs

Chapter 1-2

Dom had gotten up with Kiko’s alarm and sucked him off before he had to get going. The Latino man had accepted Dom’s offer without objection, accepted it too when Dom said he could take care of himself. Kiko normally liked to make sure they both enjoyed themselves, but he’d seemed annoyed and distracted before work, and Dom went back to bed after Kiko’s truck pulled out, deciding that he really did need to make Travis get moving. His presence was disrupting Dom’s relationship, and he hadn’t ever had anything as good as what he had with Kiko. He didn’t intend to lose it.

Even with sleeping in another couple of hours, he was still up and showered before Travis. He opened the refrigerator for something to eat, drinking the old burned coffee that he’d left in the pot after Kiko had left rather than get up then. Travis’ eggs took up half a shelf but were thankfully properly covered; they had looked unpleasant the night before, even to Dom, and since living with Kiko, he’d formed a new understanding of covering things properly to avoid crustiness.

He was checking local news on his laptop with a bowl of Kiko’s granola when Travis finally entered the kitchen. The man looked completely disheveled in a ratty old T-shirt and boxer briefs with little dancing women on them. He crossed to the coffee pot, found it empty, and blinked at it.

“Make enough for two, will you?” asked Dom. He liked the idea of dumping his burned stuff.

Travis groaned.

“I’m not a chef,” he said, and Dom stood. Kiko was right to be irritated with Travis, even if he had saved Dom’s life. He was annoying as hell.

“It’s just coffee,” said Dom, dumping out the old liquid in his mug and scooping grounds into the filter. Travis leaned back against the counter, eyeing Dom’s breakfast.

“What’s that?”

“Granola and yogurt. If you want—”

“You know, Dom, this town is great and all, but the only place to get breakfast here is a hotel or the bowling alley. Don’t you have any bacon?”

“Did you buy any bacon?” asked Dom, and Travis looked at him like he was talking nonsense.

“It’s just bacon,” he said. “You got really uptight, you ever notice that? You used to know how to live. Worried about your figure now or something?”

Dom was getting a headache. He wanted to go back to his food and his news articles, read about Jack-O-Lantern contests and what the nearby corn maze looked like this year. He did not want to deal with Travis. But memory of Kiko’s face last night, of how he brushed Dom off this morning, made him stay where he was.

“Look, Travis,” he said, getting out a coffee mug for the man, “the interview you mentioned Wednesday was the real thing, right?”

“Yeah. You think I’d lie to you?”

“Where’s it at?”

“That big jerky place outside New Slough. Third shift. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“And you’re going to take the job?” asked Dom.

Travis squinted at him. “You want me gone,” he said. “Can’t wait to get rid of me?”

“Well, Kiko and I do have a lot to work around as it is to get any time together,” said Dom, pouring the coffee.

“My God, you’re settling. What’s wrong with you?”

Dom scowled into his coffee and drank it despite it being too hot. Scalding his mouth didn’t help.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Remember that one weekend you slept with five different guys?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” said Dom again. He didn’t need to be reminded of how rough a transition coming out in college had been. That was the only reason he’d been able to convince Kiko to let Travis stay to begin with—admitting to him that he would have killed himself if not for this lazy pain of a man standing before him now.

How did he get so defensive anyway? This conversation was supposed to be focused on Travis.

“You swore you were never going to settle down,” said Travis. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Dom. “What does is that you’re only supposed to be here until you get a job. It’s been three weeks, Trav.”

“And I have an interview. Anything else you want to nag me about?”

“Yes,” said Dom as Travis took a sip of coffee. “Kiko will probably murder you if you leave the kitchen a mess again, and I’m not planning on stopping him. It’s a pain in the ass to clean up after you. We’re both over buying all your food, too.”

“I brought a case of beer when I moved in,” said Travis, as though that should count for everything else.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” said Dom, but Travis snorted at him.

“Sure. See, I’m hoping you’ll remember how much fun there is to have when we go out later. Your boy seems nice and all, Dom, but he’s a bit of a nerd. Really, why’re you settling on him? Have you seen the way he organizes the s**t in his bathroom?”

“Just because we’re going to the Haunted House party later doesn’t mean it’ll be just like old times. Trav, it’s been a decade.”

Travis drank down the rest of his coffee.

“I’m looking forward to old times. You’re the best wingman. Girls always trust the gay guy when he talks up the straight friend he can’t have.”

Dom forced himself not to wince. Before Travis came, he’d almost had fond memories of college. Now he was beginning to detest himself.

“It’s not going to be like old times.”

“Right,” said Travis, shrugging. “Come on, we gotta find ourselves costumes today still.”

When Travis walked out Dom went back to his granola and news articles. Kiko was right. The sooner Travis left, the better.