Coming Home: Davis Brothers Ch. 02

Ricky ran through the house towards the bedroom, barked, then came back to Brandon. He ran a circle around Brandon, then ran towards the bedroom again, barking the entire time. He was clearly agitated and wanted Brandon to follow him.

Brandon sighed. "I'm coming, little ugly. Hold your damn horses. Lonnie? Where are you? I know you're here. Don't bother hiding."

Brandon turned into the bedroom and all breath left his body. Lonnie was laying on the mattress, clutching his stomach with one hand. The other was holding a bloody towel to the side of his head.

"Lonnie?" Brandon launched himself towards the mattress and dropped down to his knees. "Are you okay? What happened?" He turned Lonnie's head gently, checking him for damage, while making him look up.

Lonnie's eyes were glazed over and he seemed to have trouble focusing. "Brandon?"

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'll be out of here today. I swear."

"I'm not worried about that right now. What happened to you?"

Lonnie squeezed his eyes shut. A tear caught in those long lashes before it dripped down his face, followed by another. "I got jumped behind the bank. I was going to put a deposit down on a place. They took everything I had on me."

Brandon didn't care about the kid's money. As he reached for the towel to look at the cut, Brandon noticed his hair was cut short; his bangs were still a little long in the front, but in back it was trimmed off at the nape of his neck. He kinda looked like one of those kids that wear skinny jeans and dress in all black. Emo, or something.

Lonnie tried to move away, but Brandon wasn't having it. "Hold still. Lemme see. You might need to go to the hospital."

"What do you care?" Lonnie cried out, pushing Brandon's hand away. "Just leave me alone! I told you I'd be gone today."

Lonnie turned away and Brandon let out a grunt and pushed up to his feet. He didn't need this bullshit. He had enough stress in his life. "Fine. You're an adult. Do what you want."

As Brandon turned and walked towards the door, Ricky yapped. For a second, Brandon thought that the dog looked like he was scolding him or was maybe even disappointed in him. 'It's just a fucking dog,' he thought. 'He doesn't have feelings.'

As he walked through the door, he turned and watched Lonnie struggle to make his way to the bathroom. The small man fell to his hands and knees and promptly threw up all over the ugly vinyl floor.

***

"Wait right here," Brandon said as he sat Lonnie down in one of the hard plastic chairs.

"I can't..." Lonnie let out a sigh and gave up. He argued until he was blue in the face, but Brandon insisted he go to the emergency room. Even though he didn't have insurance. Even though nearly all of his money was stolen. Even though Brandon had to practically carry him and lift him into his huge ass pickup truck. Even though he simply just didn't want to go to the hospital.

Brandon went to the triage nurse and signed in for Lonnie. He took the clipboard and pen and sat down with Lonnie.

"I can't pay for this," the boy mumbled. He folded the bloody towel over to make a clean spot. Then after noting that the bleeding had slowed way down, he held it back up to the cut on his head.

"And I said don't worry about it," Brandon snapped. He took a breath and calmed himself. He lifted the towel away from Lonnie's head. He pushed back the strands of black hair, which he figured was normally silky soft, but was now crusted with blood, and took a quick peek at the wound. "It's not too bad. I've seen a lot worse. What happened to your hair, by the way?" He let go of the towel and let Lonnie hold it back against his head.

"I cut it."

"Why?"

Lonnie glanced sideways at Brandon, then looked back at the floor and shrugged. "I didn't like it long anymore," he said before muttering, "Made me look like a girl."

That Lonnie cared so much about what Brandon thought almost made the big guy smile. But as he thought about it, he decided that maybe he liked it just a little bit longer: more than what he had now, but less than before. Just enough to grab on to... He shook the thought out of his head. "It's your hair, wear it the way you like."

The pair of men waited for over an hour and a half before a nurse finally took them into the back to see a doctor. Then they had to wait for the damned doctor. By the time the doctor finally decided to grace them with his presence, Brandon was about ready to kick some ass.

The tall, lean, grey-haired doctor looked at Brandon suspiciously. "And you are...?"

"I brought him in," Brandon said, not offering any more details, nor was he planning to. Brandon also noticed that the grumpy old coot didn't bother to introduce himself.

Brandon pulled his ball cap lower onto his brow and stood against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He didn't like the way the doctor was looking at Lonnie, like he was too good for the kid, like Lonnie was just garbage. Of course, it didn't help any that Lonnie's t-shirt was threadbare, his track pants were ripped, and his big toe looked like it was about to bust out of his sneaker. Okay, so maybe he looked like a homeless kid, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be treated with respect.

As Brandon suspected, Lonnie had a slight concussion. The cut on his head luckily didn't need stitches. He'd just have a goose egg for a couple of days.

"You should get tested for HIV and STIs," the doctor said matter-of-factly to Lonnie, while giving him a disapproving eye.

Lonnie's mouth gaped open. "I'm not a junkie or a whore," he said defensively.

The doctor's eyes cut to Brandon, who narrowed his eyes in a scathing glare. The homophobic asshole had no right to talk to Lonnie that way. He ground his teeth together and bit his tongue. If he opened his mouth, he'd say something or do something that would probably get him thrown out and tossed in jail.

"The testing's free through the homeless youth program."

Lonnie pursed his lips and muttered, "Fine."

The doctor looked at Brandon when he gave instructions that Lonnie was to take Tylenol for the pain and to rest for the next couple of days and to return if any more symptoms presented.

Well, fuck! The doctor must have thought Brandon was his pimp or... or dealer... or they were a couple or... something. "Oh... He's not... I'm not--"

"He's my landlord," Lonnie said with an eye-roll. It wasn't exactly a lie and Lonnie didn't have the patience for Brandon's stammering over whatever the status of their 'relationship' was.

The doctor just smiled condescendingly, like he didn't believe him. "Yeah, sure. Fine. A nurse will be in to draw blood and clean you up. Then you'll be okay to leave after you get the results, okay?" He looked between Lonnie and Brandon.

"Okay," Lonnie muttered.

"Fine," Brandon grumbled.

Brandon started to get impatient while waiting for the nurse. He was never very good at sitting still and he never liked hospitals. He and Lonnie hadn't spoken a word the entire time. Not that he really cared.

Brandon looked at the dejected boy. He couldn't very well throw him out on the streets tonight. He just got mugged for Christ sake. Brandon sighed inwardly. Since the demo wasn't going to start for another week because of the delays, the kid could stay at the house for one more week. That would be better than him being on the street where no one would know where he was... where Brandon wouldn't know where he was. One more week. Then he had to go.

After the nurse took Lonnie's blood and cleaned his cut, they had to stick around for another hour or so for the results.

"You don't have to stay," Lonnie said as he looked down at his lap and picked at a stray thread hanging from one of the tears in his track pants.

Brandon simply grunted, not moving from the wall.

Lonnie laid his head back on the exam table and sighed. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Brandon was about to speak when his cell phone started vibrating. He pulled it out and saw that he had two missed calls from Benji, and Benji was calling again. It must be important, he thought as he answered. "Hello?"

"Brandon! It's Ben, he's--" Benji hiccuped and let out a sob. His voice was frantic and raw. "He's in the ER. I need you, Brandon!"

"Benji, calm down. I'm already here. I'll be right there. Sit tight and stay calm."

"You're what? Where?"

"I'm here. I'll be right there, Benji."

"Hurry," he pleaded.

Brandon hung up the phone and looked over at Lonnie, who was sitting up on his elbows, looking at him all concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Something's happened to my brother. His boyfriend is here in the ER freaking out. I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems. I'm gonna go check on him and I'll be back to take you home."

Lonnie nodded and Brandon rushed out of the room. He found Benji sitting in the ER waiting room. He sat in one of the plastic chairs in a daze, his shoulders slumped forward, just staring at the ground. An older man was standing next to him, looking extremely uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Benji?"

Benji looked up at Brandon and burst into tears, burying his face in his hands.

"Hey, buddy," Brandon said calmly and quietly. He sat down next to Benji and pulled him into his arms. "What's going on?" he asked as he rubbed a circle on his back.

Benji lifted his head, wiped his hand across his nose and sniffled. "Ben was in an accident, on his motorcycle. He's in surgery. They're setting his arm or something."

Brandon felt his chest tighten and he took a deep breath. His little brother was his best friend and his only family besides for his mom. If anything ever happened to him... He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and then let out a deep breath. He leaned his head on top of Benji's and spoke quietly and soothingly, "It's gonna be okay, Benji. Let me try to find out what's going on, okay? I'll take care of everything. Just breathe slow and relax."

Brandon stood up and held his hand out to the quiet man. "Hey. Brandon Davis."

"Hi, I'm Cole," he said as he shook his hand. "I work with Benji and Ben."

"Thanks for bringing him down."

"No problem. He wasn't in any condition to drive. Listen, um.... If you don't need me... My wife is waiting for me at home..."

"Oh, yeah. I'll take care of him from here. Thanks again."

Cole nodded and put his hand on Benji's shoulder. "Let us know if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks, Cole."

"Okay. Let me know how Ben is."

"I will," Benji said with a nod.

After Cole left, Brandon went to the triage nurse to get an update on his brother.

***

It could have been worse. Much worse. Ben had a broken right arm and a broken left wrist. He'd have casts on both of his arms. He was damned lucky he didn't kill himself. God damned lucky. Brandon wanted to beat his ass for not being more careful.

Brandon sat with his arm around Benji's shoulders, and he was finally able to get Benji calm and relaxed. He had a feeling it was going to be a long wait.

"Mr. Davis?"

Brandon looked up at the nurse. "Mr. O'Reilly is ready. You can pay at the window down the hall."

He stood up as Lonnie walked up from behind the nurse. The nurse held out the paperwork and Brandon took it and thanked her. He could feel Benji staring a hole into his back. Sure enough, when he turned around, Benji was looking at Lonnie, then back at Brandon, then back at Lonnie...

Brandon tried not to scowl. He didn't need... whatever the fuck this was... right now.

"Come on, sit down," Brandon said to Lonnie. He put his hand on Lonnie's back and moved him over to sit next to Benji. "Lonnie, this is Benji, my brother's boyfriend. Benji, this is Lonnie. He's... Uh..." Brandon couldn't think of what to say Lonnie was. A buddy? A friend? The homeless guy squatting at the company's flip? "I'll be right back."

After Brandon paid Lonnie's bill at the cashier's window, he got his prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy, then walked back to the chairs.

He froze in his tracks. Lonnie and Benji were sitting in the chairs facing each other, quietly chatting like they were old friends.

Benji looked up at Brandon and gave him a smile; it was a tired smile, but there was a hint of a mischievous little twinkle there. Brandon didn't like the looks of that little smirk one bit. Brandon was so fucked.

Brandon noticed that Lonnie was rubbing his left arm with his right hand, trying to warm up. He was just wearing a flimsy t-shirt and track pants. In the rush to get him to the ER, he hadn't thought to get him something more substantial to wear. Lonnie was shivering and Brandon could actually see the goosebumps on his arms. His nipples were hard as pebbles, pushing against the thin cotton shirt. The sight was just too damned distracting.

"Here." Brandon unbuttoned his flannel shirt and handed it to Lonnie, then sat down on the other side of Benji. Even though he was only wearing a wifebeater now, he was bigger with more meat on his bones. He'd be fine.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brandon watched Lonnie bring the shirt up to his nose and give it a quick sniff. With a smile on his face a mile wide, he pulled on the huge 3XLT shirt and buttoned it up, then rolled up the sleeves. The kid was absolutely swimming in the shirt, but he looked as happy as could be.

"Warm," he whispered to himself.

Brandon swallowed loudly and shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate the sudden pressure growing between his legs. Seeing the man in his shirt was strangely... enticing. Brandon thought back to when his ex-wife used to put on his shirts. It used to annoy the shit out of him. She'd leave them stinking of that perfume that used to make him gag. Even though he could probably get another wear out of them, he'd have to throw them in the hamper. Then she'd nag him about having to wash too many loads of laundry when it was her own damned fault.

"Brandon?"

"Huh?" Brandon looked up when Benji waved his hand in front of his face.

The smirk on Benji's face was still there, even more so now. "I was talking to you. You didn't tell me that the dog food you wanted was for Lonnie's dog. You said it was for a stray."

"It was, so I thought," he said while throwing a dirty look at Lonnie.

"Lonnie was saying that you pretend like you don't like Ricky--"

"I don't," Brandon growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's an ugly little runt and he shits all over the yard."

"Yeah, sure you don't, big daddy." Benji smiled that wicked little smile again. Lonnie didn't say anything, but Brandon could see that he was trying to hide a snicker behind his hand.

Brandon scowled and pushed up to his feet. He pulled his Browning cap further down his brow to cover his eyes. "I need a smoke."

Brandon paced back and forth along the sidewalk outside of the ER doors as he smoked his cigarette. He should have taken Lonnie home, then came back to sit with Benji. Or he could have called Lonnie a cab. Shit. He didn't need Lonnie talking to Benji. He put out his cigarette and hurried back in, needing to get Lonnie out of there.

"I'm so sorry. My dad's an asshole, too," Benji was saying quietly to Lonnie. "I'm so lucky to have Ben. And Brandon, he's--"

"I'm what?" Brandon asked as he sat down. He narrowed his eyes and frowned.

An unfamiliar voice interrupted. "Brandon Davis?"

Brandon jumped up when Ben's doctor entered, and he was followed quickly by Benji and Lonnie. "Your brother is finished with the cast tech and is being discharged."

Brandon had Lonnie and Benji wait while he went and pulled up the truck. Several minutes later an orderly wheeled out a very cranky Ben Davis.

He had a cast on his left forearm that spanned from below his elbow, past his wrist and completely covered his palm, immobilizing his wrist and fingers. His right arm was in a shoulder sling and was completely covered from the shoulder to the wrist, with a bend that immobilized his elbow. He wouldn't be able to really make use of either of his hands. Other than the two obvious injuries, he had a cut above his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek under his right eye. Several bruises were hidden under his clothes, but he was otherwise undamaged. His ego seemed to have taken the most damage, as he was scowling and muttering curses under his breath.

Benji ran to his lover, standing next to the wheelchair. "Ben..." He hung his head as tears spilled down his face. "I..." He choked on his words and tried to take a calming breath, but it wasn't working. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to hug and kiss Ben, but was apprehensive about doing it in public.

Ben's face softened at Benji's distress. "Hey," he whispered. "I'm okay, baby. Don't cry. C'mere. Give me a hug. I need a hug."

Benji sniffled and nodded and leaned in and hugged Ben around the neck. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said before giving Ben a bold kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna take good care of you."

Ben wrinkled his face and sighed. He didn't want Benji to have to take care of him. It was his promised responsibility to take care of Benji, not the other way around. Ben didn't want to have to rely on anybody for anything, but it looked like for the foreseeable future, Ben needed Benji more than Benji needed him.

Ben looked past Benji's shoulder at the pretty young man standing behind Brandon. "Who's that?"

Brandon closed his eyes and groaned.

***

After dropping off Ben and Benji at Ben's place, Brandon took Lonnie 'home'. The drive was filled with silence. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but there was a tension in the air that Brandon couldn't quite put his finger on. He could tell that Lonnie kept looking over at him, but he tried to ignore it.

Brandon cleared his throat, but his eyes stayed on the road. "You need to call your mom or somebody?"

"No. She'd just worry over nothing."

Once they arrived at the flip house, Brandon pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. He got out of the truck and clipped his keys to his belt. He quickly went around to the passenger side, opening the door before Lonnie could get it open.

"Grab onto the sissy handle," Brandon told him as Lonnie unbuckled his seat belt.

"Excuse me?" Lonnie frowned, looking at him with a raised brow and a hand on his hip.

Brandon might have laughed under different circumstances, instead he winced and pointed to the handle in question. "I didn't mean... Forget it. Step onto the running board," he said as he held out his hand for Lonnie to hold onto. "Careful."

"Thanks," Lonnie said with a smile as he took Brandon's offered hand. He let go of the stupid handle, carefully stepped onto the running board, then hopped onto the ground. "They didn't have any bigger trucks on the lot?" he asked with an eye-roll.

Brandon quickly pulled his hand free and slammed the truck door shut. "I'm a big guy," he muttered.

"Yeah, I can see that," Lonnie whispered to himself.

Brandon chose to ignore the breathy commentary. "And I haul a lot of shit around for work."

They walked around to the back door, Brandon watching carefully, making sure that Lonnie wasn't dizzy or stumbling. Brandon followed Lonnie inside and Ricky yipped and hopped, happy to see his master alive and well.

Brandon let out a breath. "Listen. I was thinking I'd let you stay here another week. We're not going to do demo until next Monday now. So if you need a few days..."

Brandon watched Lonnie blink his eyes in surprise. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

"Okay," Brandon said with a nod.

"Benji seemed like a very nice guy," Lonnie said as he pulled Brandon's over-sized flannel shirt off. "Thanks."

Brandon took the offered shirt and shrugged it on, not bothering to button it up. "Yeah, he's a sweetie. He's good for my brother. So I'm gonna go. Remember what the doctor said."