A Walk in the Park--Larry Stylinson

The Barbeque

Once in the bedroom, things took a comical turn. But the two of them were too shaky to acknowledge it, let alone appreciate it. They stood, awkward and cumbersome, beside the bed, shuffling their feet and acting like two teenagers uncomfortable about initiating intimacy.

"I've got character flaws," announced Louis, confusing and flustering Harry in the extreme.

Looking just a little rankled that Louis would say such a thing, he inquired, "And what might those be?"

"Compassion. It's a character flaw."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Compassion is a character flaw? Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I'm feelin '. . . I'm feelin' compassion for you right now because you're uncomfortable with this—" Louis waved his arm, indicating the bed and the bedroom in general.

"What?"

"What I mean is . . . when you feel compassion, it gets in the way of clear thinkin.'"

"But it's not a character flaw! It's a sign that you're a good person!" argued Harry.

Louis considered this, then spoke again. "But I . . . don't want to get too soft. That's another way to put it, I guess. You make me soft."

"And that's bad?" Harry was completely bewildered.

"Well, it can be. In certain circumstances."

"I don't agree with you, Lou. You can still stand up for yourself, and be assertive, and still be soft."

"I don't know . . . "

"You don't ever want to be compassionate?" Harry looked gobsmacked.

"Well, I do, but it can cause weakness, as I just explained. I have trouble thinkin' clearly when I'm 'round you as it is." This was as close as he dared to get to telling Harry how much he meant to him.

"Lou, weakness and softness aren't the same."

"How so?"

How was Harry going to answer that? To Harry, softness was part of love. Weakness normally wasn't.

"Well, I know the feelin' 'cause I feel the same when I'm 'round you," Harry admitted. "Soft. But not weak."

Louis sat down on the bed, and encouraged Harry to also by grasping his upper arms and pulling him down. Harry showed a little bit of hesitation before he lowered himself to sit.

"Tell me how you can't think clearly. How do I cause that?"

Wow, Harry asked some loaded questions.

"Well . . . I'm too busy lookin' at you, studyin' you." Louis was proud of himself for being able to articulate that little bit.

"Well, at least I'm not alone," Harry was smiling, very content with the flow and progress of the conversation. It seemed he and Louis were starting to think along the same lines.

"You feel like that too?"

"Yeah. I love watchin' you do things like pick up the remote, or pour milk, or stretch, or . . . well, everythin.'"

"And now I don't feel like such a whack job, watchin' you like I'm a stalker or sommat."

They laughed together, both relieved that they fully understood each other's rather pleasant predicament.

After that, it was natural for them to begin to kiss—light little butterfly kisses that were teasing and stimulating, and left both panting for more.