Duck was sitting on the low wall outside the hospital; best shirt (cowboy shirt, Dan had called it) freshly pressed, hair combed, smelling of the very best aftershave he could afford. It was a quarter to three. Visiting started at three, but he'd been so eager to get here that he'd driven a little too fast. Still, it gave him a chance to sit and enjoy the early afternoon sun and think about what he was going to say to Dan.

He'd been a regular visitor to Dan's bedside for the week the tall, quiet man had been in hospital. Today he was supposed to be getting out, and Duck wanted to take him home. To his place, Ducks place. It wasn’t much, but it was cosy and he could take proper care of Dan there. He just wasn’t sure how Dan would react. Would he think Duck was expecting more?

Duck pulled a pack of smokes from his breast pocket and lit up, taking a deep, lung-burning drag. The truth was that he did want more. Dan was beautiful, shy, deep as the sea. He was sensitive and caring. He was everything Duck could want in a man. Well, almost everything. As close to perfect as Duck would ever get. But Dan had been hurt. Duck knew that he needed to take things slowly. He didn’t want to spook the guy. Asking him to stay here, on the island, in an openly gay relationship, amongst people who could, and would make his life hell, was probably asking too much, even if that was what Duck wanted.

He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaled on the glowing tip and watched it spark. Maybe he should just ask Dan what he wanted to do? Might be they were both on the same page here, or was that just wishful thinking?

Duck raised his head as a blue taxicab pulled up. He watched with detached curiosity as a woman wearing a big floppy sunhat got out and paid the cabdriver. She hauled a small case out of the trunk and placed it at her feet, before turning to look at the hospital building. The cab drove off in a screech of tyres on asphalt and Duck went back to contemplating his cowboy boots.

"Excuse me…" The woman dragged her case over to Duck and placed it on the ground. "Do you happen to know when visiting time is?"

He looked up, squinted really, as the sun was low in the sky and directly behind her. He couldn’t make out her face at all under the brim of the hat, but her clothes, and her accent marked her as a mainlander. "Three," he replied, wondering who she was here to see. The hospital was absolutely tiny and there were only a handful of people in there. Then glancing down at his watch, he finished his smoke and flicked the butt away. "You got about ten minutes to wait, although they sometimes let immediate family in sooner."

She took a deep breath and moved, sunlight momentarily blinded Duck and by the time he'd gotten his hand up to shield his eyes, she was sitting on the wall beside him. "Not sure I can call myself that anymore. Ex-wife. Well, estranged wife actually, but its all the same thing here."

Duck's heart seemed to stop beating. He turned around and got his first good look at her. She was a little older than the picture he'd seen. The one he'd found sticking out of a box of keepsakes in Dan's back yard. Her hair was shorter, greyer in colour but still curly. She was still pretty, if you liked that sort of thing. Dan found that his mouth had gone dry.

"Val Jarvis. Have we met before?" Duck shook his head. He'd never met Dan's wife. He'd seen Dan around plenty before the scandal. He'd done some work for Dan on his little video shop. They hadn’t spoken much, but Duck had liked what he saw. He had indulged in a little bit of harmless flirting, not believing for a moment that Dan even known that’s what he was doing.

"Um… no, don't think so," he managed, clearing his throat.

"No? Oh you just looked familiar. I wasn’t really here long enough to get to know people." She took off the floppy sunhat and placed it on her lap. "I left in a bit of a hurry too, though I'm regretting that now."

Duck suddenly felt very cold, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. "Yeah?" Val dangled her legs, letting her shoes scuff the ground. She stared down at them with evident fascination.

"I left my husband alone here to face… things, and he didn’t face them at all well. They tell me he's lucky to be alive."

Duck didn’t know what the hell to say. He'd never thought he would ever meet Dan's wife, far less have to have a civilised conversation with her. What he wanted to do was yell at her for the way she had treated Dan. Telling him he could rot in hell had hurt like a bastard. Anyone could see that just looking in Dan's eyes. He loved his wife, even if they barely slept together.

"I need to get him away from this… this… place," she snapped, jumping to her feet and sending the sunhat tumbling to the ground. "This place was a bad idea, right from the start. Maybe back home he'll… he'll…" she trailed off.

Duck bent and picked up the hat, handing it to her carefully so that their hands wouldn’t accidentally touch. He wanted no part of her in contact with him. "… not be so gay? Ever thought maybe he's happy here. Maybe he doesn’t want to go back to the mainland with you."

She took the hat and jammed it onto her head with determination. "We'll see."

With that, she picked up her suitcase and headed into the hospital. Duck sat back on the wall and looked up at the sky. His relationship with Dan was too new for him to know what sort of impact this would have. Dan loved his wife. Duck knew that much. What he felt for Duck, was still unsure.

***

Duck sat on a rocky outcrop overlooking the harbour. He watched the ferry until it disappeared into the mist.

He'd been sitting there a long time, evidenced by the dozen or so cigarette butts strewn on the ground all around him. He wasn’t sure why he'd come. What he'd hoped to see. But whatever it was, it hadn’t happened.

A crunch of dry stick behind him alerted him to a presence but he didn’t turn around. He knew who would be standing there. Instead, he took out his cigarette pack and lit up another smoke.

"Hey Duck," the soft voice behind him said. "Figured I might find you here."

Duck sucked hard on his cigarette and let the smoke curl out of his mouth slowly. "I'm not looking for company Buddy," he said, refusing to turn around and look at his friend. "A guy comes up here, means he wants to be alone. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that." Buddy flopped down onto the rock beside Duck. "He get off okay?" He flicked his head in the direction of the harbour and the now departed ferry boat.

Duck sighed wearily. "Buddy, you are a king sized pain in the butt. Have been as long as I've known you." He should have known that Buddy would come looking for him. No news travels faster than bad news. Well, it was bad news for Duck anyway. Most of the rest of the islanders would be rejoicing that another of the queers from the Watch had been chased off with his dick between his legs.

"How you doing with it, Duck. Are you okay?"

Was he okay?

Was he okay?

Good question. He had absolutely no idea. From the moment he'd first realised who Val Jarvis was, Duck's barriers had begun to go up, building a wall around his heart just as strong and impenetrable as it had ever been. "Sure, I'm fine," he answered woodenly. "Barely even knew the guy. Why would it bother me that he's left?"

"Because…" Buddy shifted uncomfortably on the rock. "He might have been… you know? The One?"

Duck couldn’t help the snort of derisive laughter. No, Dan Jarvis was a lovely, quiet man, and Duck had hoped he could make a decent life with him, but he wasn’t, and could never be. The One.

Mainly because the only person Duck had ever considered perfect for him was sitting right next to him on a cold rock overlooking the harbour and had no fucking idea that he was The One.

Buddy nudged Duck with his hip. "Okay, so he wasn’t your soul mate! Fair enough. Just wanted to know you were… you know, okay."

"I'm okay."

They sat in silence for a long time, before Buddy finally got to his feet. "Wanna go get a beer?" Duck looked up and saw for the first time that Buddy was out of uniform. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd seen Buddy in jeans and a shirt. Took him right back to high school days. Days where they were best friends and hung out all the time together, drinking beer on the beach and leering at girls. Well, Buddy had leered. Duck had mostly just watched Buddy leer.

"Gave it up, remember?" he said finally, stamping out the embers of his cigarette. "But I could use a stiff cup of coffee."

***

Duck was sitting on the porch outside Buddy's house, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands and watching Buddy chug down beer. He no longer craved alcohol but it was always hard watching someone else drink, especially when it was Buddy with his habbit of throwing back his head when he drank from a bottle. Duck watched Buddy's throat contract as he swallowed for a moment before dragging his eyes away.

"You know, that's your forth beer in half an hour?" he asked, not making eye contact.

Buddy smacked his lips together with satisfaction. "Better watch out, Duck. Your beginning to sound like Carol."

That did make Duck look at Buddy. He put down the mug of coffee and half turned to face him. "You hear anything from her since she went back to the Mainland?"

Buddy popped the cap on another beer and took a swig. "Nope, not from her. Just her lawyer. 'Irretrievable breakdown', he called it."

"Fuck." Duck reached over and put a comforting hand on Buddy's shoulder. "I thought things might get better for you two once your mum…. You know? They never got on."

Buddy sighed and patted Duck's hand where it rested on his shoulder. A stiff breeze had sprung up and it ruffled Buddy's hair, making him look a lot younger than Duck knew he was. Buddy stared down at his bottle as if the meaning of life was hidden inside it. "Yeah, that's what I thought too. Guess it was really me she had the problems with all these years."

Duck squeezed Buddy's shoulder and let his hand drop. It was late and it was getting cold. He should be heading home. "We're a right pair, aren’t we Duck?" Buddy whispered. That they were. Neither of them had been lucky in love. Duck had left the island when he was 22 but come back feeling burnt out and used by every godammed person he'd ever known. Except Buddy that is. Buddy had always had his back.

Buddy had dated a few island girls before meeting Carol. It had seemed like at least on of them was going to have a 'happily ever after'. "What the fuck is wrong with us, Bud? Two good lookin' guys like us? We aught'a be fighting them off"

Buddy snorted, downing the rest of his bottle in long gulps. Duck couldn’t drag his eyes away if his life had depended on it. "It was good to start off with. Easy. She was exciting, exotic, beautiful…" Duck listened to Buddy talk about the love of his life and managed to keep the sympathetic look on his face. They were best friends and Buddy needed him to be there for him. "… but then she started wanting things. You know, social standing, dinner parties… the sort of stuff I hate."

"Buddy…,"

"I knew it was over a long time ago. I was fooling myself, Duck. Hadn't been a real marriage in years. Maybe it never was."

"C'mon, Bud. You really need to sleep this off."

Buddy waved away Ducks’ hand. "Don’t wanna sleep. Want more beer."

"C'mon, you know that's not the answer." Duck whispered. "Let me get you to bed. I promise you'll feel…"

But Buddy was suddenly convulsed in helpless laugher. Duck watched, unable to stop a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth. "What? What's so damned funny?"

Buddy wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "You!" he wailed, "You want to take me to bed? Well Jesus, at least someone does!" And he was off again, virtually screaming with laughter.

Duck wasn’t laughing though. He hadn’t meant it to come out like that, even if it was…. God, it really was the truth. Buddy, his best friend since they were kids. Buddy, whose family had virtually owned the island. Buddy, who had never once shown any sign that he might feel the same way Duck did. He would take Buddy to bed in an instant, and maybe it would be great, maybe it would be world shattering. And then they would wake up and Buddy would realise what he'd done….

Voice croaking with raw emotion, Duck tried to smile. "In your dreams Buddy-boy. I got better taste."

Grabbing hold of Buddy by the shirt, he hauled him to his feet. Which turned out not to be one of his better ideas. Buddy staggered forwards and threw his arms around Ducks shoulders, where he clung, still weak with laughter. Duck went rigid.

“Ducky duck duck, needs a fucky fuck fuck…” Buddy sing-songed. It was something he had teased Duck with at high school whenever Duck’s body had betrayed him at inopportune moments.

“Bud, don’t…”

Buddy’s arms tightened around Duck and he stopped laughing. “You know, you’re my best friend in the world right? Best fucking friend. When you left the island… why did you do that? Why d'ya leave me?”

Duck swallowed hard. Having Buddy so close, pressed against him like this was sheer torture. He licked his lips, tried to pull back. “You know why.”

The memory was still hard to re-live, although time had dulled the embarrassment. But standing here with Buddy wrapped around him like this brought it back into sharp focus. He’d kissed Buddy. Full on the lips. In front of half the football team.

They’d won their first big game of the season and everyone was going crazy with joy. Buddy had kicked the winning goal. Duck had been so full of hero worship that he’d forgotten they were in the lockers, surrounded by cheering, shouting, sweaty football jocks.

Buddy shook his head and pulled Duck even closer. “All I know,” he slurred into Ducks neck, “is that you kissed me, then you ran away. You left me alone to face them all. I needed to talk to you, Duck. But you left…”

Duck finally managed to pull back enough to catch his breath again. Buddy had done all right. He’d been in the force by then, well on his way to earning his first promotion. His peers had probably mocked him for a while about being kissed by the queer, but in the end, Buddy’s family would have put a stop to any rumours. Still, there was something in Buddy’s tone that made Duck look a little closer. “You need to talk?” he said softly. “Then talk. I’m listening.”

Buddy leaned back against the porch rail and sighed. “I missed you. When you left like that, I missed you more than I thought I would.”

Duck leaned against the other railing and crossed his arms tight across his chest. Buddy had been far from ‘alone’. “You had Davey London and Billy what’s-his-name. Then there was Lindy, and Mary-lou and that little red-haired girl from the corner…”

“But I didn’t have you Duck, “ Buddy sighed. “You kissed me…”

Duck shoved himself away from the railing and punched the wall angrily. “I’ve said I’m sorry for that. How many times do I gotta say it?”

Buddy looked up, eyes glittering with anger too. “I didn’t want you to be sorry, you ass-hole. I wanted you to do it again. Without the audience.”

Duck froze. That couldn’t be right? Buddy was straight. Always had been. There had always been girls. “No! Buddy… you dated girls,” he croaked.

Buddy whirled around and advanced on him so quickly that Duck didn’t get a chance to move before he was pinned to the railing. Buddy was right in his face, breathing hard. “I dated girls, but I wanted you. I’d been trying to work out how to tell you for months but I was a coward. Then you kissed me and I knew I was right. I wanted you -- My best friend. I wanted you so bad, but then you were -- gone.”

Duck blinked stupidly at Buddy. “You… wanted…?”

“I wanted you, Duck. I’d dreamed about it. Fantasised about kissing you and touching you, and then it happened. God, Duck, that kiss. It blew me away.” Buddy’s voice had gone so low and husky that Duck had to hold his breath to hear him. And the thought that Buddy might have been having erotic dreams about him made his dick jump up and take notice. But this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

But how could he be hallucinating the faint smell of Buddy’s aftershave and the beer he’d drunk still clinging to his lips. Lips that were moving slowly closer. Duck breathed out fast and brought his hands up to cup Buddy’s face, partly because he needed to touch, and partly to halt Buddy’s advance, so that he could buy some time. “Buddy, I’ve been home for years. You couldn’t have said something?”

Buddy stopped his slow advance and let his eyes drop in shame. “It wasn’t much of a marriage, Duck, but I’d made that commitment to Carol, and I was trying to stick to it. Worked pretty well too, until Sandra breezed back here and threw herself at me that is.”

Duck let his thumb rub Buddy’s cheek sympathetically. It must have been hard for Buddy to resist her. He was a red blooded male with needs…. And thinking about that was making Duck hard all over again. “Crap, Buddy. Too much water under the bridge for us now,” he sighed.

Buddy licked his lips and leaned closer. “One way to find out…”

***

Duck was sitting in a chair by Buddy’s bed watching him sleep. There was a small smile at the corner of Buddy’s mouth and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. He looked happy and relaxed. Duck found himself smiling, knowing that he’d put that look on Buddy’s face.

He’d tried so hard to take things slow. After all this time, the last thing he wanted was to do something that would freak Buddy out, but he needn’t have worried. Buddy took to gay sex, like he took to everything else he did, like a pro.

Duck’s brain had gone offline during that first kiss, and not managed a single rational thought until Buddy’s mouth had closed around his cock, making him cry out and arch his back in pure ecstasy. The shock of that had made him think about what was happening. “Christ, Buddy. You don’t need to do that…”

Looking down he’d seen that Buddy’s eyes were closed and his tongue was making lazy sweeps around the head of Duck’s cock. Slowly, slowly he’d pulled off and let his eyes drift open. He’d looked so blissed-out that Duck had almost come all over his grinning face. “Duck, I’ve been dreaming about doing this to you for years. You gonna complain, or are you gonna shut up and let me do it?”

“Shutting up,” Duck had said quickly.

So now here he was, watching Buddy sleep and thinking about all the time they’d wasted, all the years that had gone by where they could have been together. Perhaps though, when he really gave it some thought, it was for the best. How long would they have lasted as a couple at the age of 22 on an island that was inhabited by homophobes? At least now they had age and experience behind them. Perhaps they could actually make this work?

“Hey,” Buddy whispered. “Whatcha doing?”

Duck crawled back under the covers and wrapped himself around Buddy. “Wondering what life is going to be like from now on,” he replied. He could feel Buddy’s chest rise and fall beneath his face.

Buddy snorted and pulled him in closer. “Why Duck, it Wilby Wonderful, of course!”

THE END