(no subject)

[giftedthom]

It's been more than a year since he's seen anything but the bar, the lake, the obsessively neat room he half-heartedly pretends is something like a home. So when Parker shows up and right from the start they're making bets, when right from the start he can see Parker's sizing him up, of course he's curious, of course. And then it turns out that Parker is from a place that he's been hearing about since the very beginning. Someplace sunny, Todd said. Todd always said it was wonderful.

They'd had plans of their own, then. He remembers it now; regrets it, maybe. Ignoring the lingering taste of cheap beer, he leans forward and looks at Parker like he's serious, looks at Parker like he wants something. "Take me to California sometime," he says.

Thom doesn't know why, but Parker says, "Sure," and so he doesn't ask.

***
Eventually they do leave. He's got his arm around Parker in case – in case what? In case he disappears?

It doesn't matter, really. There's somebody called Longbaugh there: another strange name. Longbaugh is tall and laconic, all slow eyes and man-of-few-words-y, impossible to surprise. Probably smarter than he looks, Thom thinks. He's met men like this before; they never like him.

He wonders whether or not it's worth trying to get along but before he's quite made up his mind they've left the bathroom (hideous, by the way) and passed through a strange dark place that's like nothing he's ever seen before. Nothing he's wanted to see. He asks about it: the women, the money, the lights; it's not a lie if he's honestly curious, is it? Parker's reaction amuses him and so he keeps at it. They stop by something he knows is a car; Longbaugh gets in first, leaves them outside.

"If he asks, tell him you grew up in the mountains, and your parents home schooled you," Parker says.

Any lie will do. Thom doesn't answer; asks, "What's this?" Parker looks frustrated. Thom gets in the car.

***
Longbaugh and Parker are fucked up, Thom's decided. He asks question after question and wonders idly if it's upping the tension or lowering it; wonders which he would prefer. He sits right up against the window, looking out. So far California seems no more exciting than the long road from Trebond to the City of the Gods, but he has, as always, that same sick feeling of leaving someone important behind. He watches the darkness pass outside and listens to himself talk. He might be thirsty; isn't sure.

Maybe he shouldn't have come. It's all exhausting. There's nothing to see. Parker's still talking to him. Thom's almost out of questions. He leans against the glass and closes his eyes.

It's almost summertime.

***
The beach is better than Turkey, probably, although it's early in the morning. It looks different, anyway, and Thom's starting to get more excited about it. He almost feels like sharing when he drops down in the sand next to Parker, but Parker and Longbaugh are being Parker and Longbaugh and he says, kidding, that he won't let anything happen to Parker but the joke falls flat but fuck it.

Thom stares at the ocean; the reflected light nearly blinds him. He ducks his head and squints at it through lowered lashes, which helps enough so that it's bright but doesn't hurt much.

"Parker, don't get shot," says Longbaugh.

But there are worse ways to die, Thom thinks; it's been almost two years.

***
The nice thing is that nobody he sees here he'll ever have to see again, ever, and none of them know anything about him. They're staying someplace shitty but he doesn't care.

Well – he does, a little. It's been a long time since the City of the Gods. A long time since Mithran austerity.

Parker takes him someplace called an aquarium and actually, he kind of likes it. It's gloomy, damp and cavernous and people don't look entirely human in the vivid blue glow from the tanks. He's never seen anything like it; thinks it would be more interesting if fish weren't impossibly dull, and so he finds someone who looks like she's supposed to know what it's about. She has red hair but doesn't really look like Alanna. She can't answer any of his questions, either, so he doesn't mind when Parker grabs him and pulls him away.

(Parker's weird.)

Parker's stealing, he notices. Thom wonders why Parker didn't just tell him; if Parker thinks he'd care. Parker also has some kid by the neck, but whatever. Thom approaches and Parker lets go (the kid runs); he spreads his hands – long-fingered, soft – on Parker's chest where the wallets are, over the thin sweatshirt fabric and asks, quietly, "Did you bring me here so that you could steal more money?"

"Yeah," says Parker, watching him.

Thom smirks. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

He darts away through the crowd (Parker follows) and bumps into an old lady on his way to the exit; he remembers how to play this game. When Parker catches up to him Thom is already outside, blinking in the sudden light, holding a wallet that Parker raises an eyebrow at.

Thom shrugs, Why not? and moves away.

***
There's paper at the hotel, which spares Thom the trouble of stealing any. He starts:

Sister dearest,

I

I what?

He turns the cheap plastic pen over in his hands, considering. For the first time he wonders whether or not it's worth writing a letter he'll never send; no, he thinks; it might not be.

He pockets the pen but leaves the paper there for anyone to see: beginnings don't mean anything; in fact, they often seem like good intentions. Nothing wrong with that.

***
Sometimes they eat. Thom tries things now and then, if they're new, but on the whole he isn't interested in food.

***
Parker takes him to the mall and it's bigger than any marketplace he's ever seen. It feels like his first day in Corus and he's genuinely enthused; probably looks it, too. Parker looks at Thom like he's never quite seen anything like him. Funny, Thom thinks, and makes a note to build on that.

(Later, though; he'll do it later, when there's not so much to see.)

Thom takes advantage of a small, unexpected fire to steal a few things from one of the shops. It's worth it just to see the look on Parker's face; he enjoys these reactions increasingly, thinks of ways to surprise him as Parker carefully lines Thom's eyes with some kind of pencil.

Changing his appearance seems to do it, and this is no trouble at all: Thom's been banking on illusions for expression since the day he was born. He watches himself in store windows. He looks from time to time at Parker's reflection, too; it's watching his.

***
May 28, the paper says. He doesn't need reminding; counts down the days in his head, yes, one, two, two for mirth. (Three for a funeral.)

They've been watching TV, nights, but it isn't funny and anyway he's seen it in the bar before. Thom thinks, twenty-two, twenty-two, he'd be old if he hadn't been dead first. As it is he's barely twenty, just a month or two after his birthday (their birthday) it all went up in shuddering gusts with the earthquake; he hadn't even gotten used to saying, yes, I'm twenty yet; he was still in the habit of introducing himself, hello, yes, Lord Thom of Trebond, nineteen years old, yes: very young. Youngest living Master of the Mithran Light. Yes, yes, pleased to meet you: very.

Although of course in reality he had not been on speaking terms with anyone at that time, except for Roger.

Just to stop himself from thinking, Thom says, "I. Am. So. Bored." And if he sounds like he's whining or spoiled then so much the better.

Parker thinks they should go to a club. Thom isn't sure what that is, thinks he probably won't like it, he never even used to go to George's – whatever – in the city, but if it'll take his mind off things it can't be all bad and Parker promises there will be liquor which Thom sorely needs this time of year. Constantly, actually.

So here goes?

***
Here goes. Parker's been needling him but in the end – and this is strange – isn't, Thom thinks, going to abandon him, and in a moment of frightened gratitude he clutches at Parker's hand as they go through the door and the guy, the bouncer, whatever, looks at him like he's made of slightly underage sugar. They make it to the bar but it's crowded. Parker shouts something about getting him wasted. Okay.

Thom looks around: people, people everywhere. Parker is failing to get them a place at the bar, amusingly, so Thom turns and smiles distractedly at the nearest man looking at him. "Hey," he says, and nods in the direction of the crowd. "D'you mind – ?"

The guy blinks, and a split second later he's shouted for everyone to move and – interestingly – everyone has and Thom's thinking, so that's how this game goes, all right, it might pass the time.

"Thanks," he says. Parker pulls on his arm.

"Drink," says Parker. Thom does. It's awful.

"What was that?"

Parker says, "Tequila. It'll grow on you."

It won't.

***
There's this one guy: tall, dark, handsome, strong nose, that guy, kind of looks like Roger but not really but then Thom is kind of drunk. Almost as drunk as he would like, in fact, which is to say: not enough.

"Really," Thom says with his hand on the guy's arm, not listening to a word he says. "That's so interesting."

It's not.

On the other hand, Parker manages to get in two or three fights over – what? Thom's integrity? Something? In his defense, anyway, certainly – and whether or not this is, strictly speaking, interesting, it is highly entertaining. The second time Parker tells him, "Stop flirting with the natives. My hand is tired."

Thom has another drink; this one comes with a straw, which they don't have in Tortall, unfortunately. "No," he says at last, looking thoughtful. There hasn't been nearly enough trouble yet.

It's amazing what he gets away with.

***
Something goes wrong with the car on the way to Santa Barbara. Parker's been showing him how to hotwire it; Thom gets it, but makes like he doesn't. Not that he'll get a chance to try it out. Probably. His life – existence – doesn't involve cars; although he prefers them to horses he still isn't quite sure he likes this world.

They get out and walk (Parker carries most of the stuff) and soon they're lost in an orange field and he's never seen anything like it before. Never smelled anything like it before either; the scent is sharp and heavy, like breathing tiny slivers of perfumed glass. Thom inhales, feeling slightly giddy. Trebond had been cold, mountainous; the air had been thin and without comfort. The City of the Gods – not meant for humans, really – had been colder still, but this place, this California is warm and somehow everything is sweeter, gentler, undemanding. Mountains to the east and the sea to the west. A breezy dry strip through the middle, winding slowly south.

"An orange field," says Parker unnecessarily. He sweeps his arm out for emphasis; a gesture Thom recognizes. "Picked by the economic slaves of the United States."

As if he cares about slaves, economic or otherwise? Thom steps over hard packed dirt and loose leaves to run his hand down the bark of a tree; reaches up to pull down a fruit; watches Parker out of the corner of his eye. Parker walks. He follows.

***
They find the economic slaves, or whatever, that work in the fields and Parker talks to them in a language that sounds like sand rolled in grains on the tongue, spit-shined and tasted into a pearl.

Not quite knowing what to do with himself, Thom walks up and down the straight lanes, biting his thumb like a child. Some of the economic slaves look at him like he's from another planet, like he's a witch or something; he's seen that look on backwater roads before. It fills him with a kind of silent pride, as it did then.

He looks back at them nervously, all round violet eyes and skinny wrists, disheveled; wonders if they think he's dangerous.

A few minutes later Parker comes back and drags him into another car: different, bigger, worn. He calls it a 'van.' All the words in this world, Thom thinks, are short: car, club, van, as if its inhabitants were saving up for something. Holding back.

Parker pushes him to the back of the van and sits between him and everyone else. Thom realizes, belatedly, that Parker is trying to protect him; it's almost sweet. He doesn't need protecting but puts his arm around Parker and holds on anyway, because it doesn't seem like much to do, and because the road might not be smooth.

***
Parker steals another car; this time Thom sits with him in the front. He slouches in his seat and turns the orange over in his hands; peels it in long yellow strips; the white underside sticks under his nails and irritates him.

He manages somehow. Parker glances at him sideways, like he's not supposed to notice, but he does. Thom asks, "Want a piece?" and smirks.

Parker says, "Sure," and so Thom leans over and pushes the last orange slice into his mouth with sticky fingers; Parker's tongue brushes against them – by accident? – and Thom sits back. He can see the ocean through the window, blue and salty, but can't hear it somehow. Parker says it's soundproofing but it just reminds Thom of a spell he doesn't use anymore.

***
There's this house in Montecito that looks big compared to the other houses they've been seeing but which, compared to most of the places Thom's ever lived, is not. It has a pool, though, which is not a concept he's familiar with, but which Parker seems to like. The colors are stronger here; the sun so bright it fairly pulses; it's impossible to stay indoors.

What's-his-face, who's looking after the house while whoever owns it is away, brings up the newspaper every day. Thom looks at it once: death, death, death . . . more death.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Parker says.

Thom asks, "Is it really the thirtieth?"

Parker shrugs. "Yeah."

May 30: Thom leaves.

***
Parker catches him in downtown Montecito which is all glass and creamy storefronts and plastic. Thom's been stealing things he doesn't want – it's easy, actually – and then abandoning them. Anything that reminds him of Alanna, he ignores.

"How'd you pull it off?" Parker asks.

"My charm," Thom says. His immense personal magnetism. People's tendency to look at him and think he's somehow helpless.

Parker asks why he's mad; Thom says (eventually), his birthday. Parker presses the issue. Thom shouts at him (eventually) and says more than he meant to; more than he usually would. "I don't even know you," he says when it's over; says, "I shouldn't have come."

It's true. He turns and walks away, May 30, May 30, and he hates the California sun because it won't go down.

Eventually, he realizes that Parker isn't following him anymore.

***
For some reason Parker comes back and takes him out to dinner and buys him drinks and gives him some sort of lame present and Thom has no idea why. Something must be wrong with him.

(Wrong with Parker, that is; not Thom.)

There are a lot of men dressed up as women in the bar, which Parker says is because there's a club specifically for that purpose nearby. Thom wonders if Tortall had things like that. Delia would know, he thinks. Distressingly.

He talks to some of them. Parker seems slightly disturbed by this, so he doesn't stop. They invite him to the other place. Him and Parker both. Unlikely. Unless Parker doesn't want to go.

But for now he lets Parker take him home. (Although what's-his-face drives.) It's warm in the car, and slightly stuffy – something about recycled air, Parker said – and he falls asleep with his head on Parker's shoulder, one leg thrown loosely over Parker's lap.

***
It turns out that Parker absolutely does not want to go, and so Thom absolutely nags him into it; this is, he feels, hilarious. Cramming Parker into a dress is hilarious. (To be fair, not much cramming is required.) The look on what's-his-face's face is hilarious.

"Quid pro quo," Parker says afterwards, which is incomprehensible; he also says, "bastard," which is uncalled for.

He has a point though, and all of a sudden things are more complicated and Thom isn't sure who to blame or where the game is going. Parker dressed up as a girl may be hilarious, but Thom dressed up as a girl pretending to be a boy is – is – confusing? Ironic?

An hour later, in a sullen attempt to avoid lesbians, Thom goes to the bathroom. Parker, only a few steps behind him – whatever he's avoiding – looks just as surprised when the door opens on something else entirely.

And here they are.