All the King's Horses 7/? : Bucking Tradition

[rainweaver13.livejournal.com]

Title: All the King's Horses 7/?: Bucking Tradition
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Being gay is not easy for two men in the small-town South of the late '80s.

Warnings: Adult language and situations. AU. Some het content, not explicit. Real-life angst.
Disclaimer: This is complete fiction. The characters in this story are being "played" by certain real actors, but that's the only connection with reality. None of the characters is meant to be a real person.

A/N: Viggo as V. Michael Delany, aka Dr. D, middle school principal and sometime junior college English teacher; Sean Bean as Sean Baker, car salesman and horseman; Orlando as James Orlando Kennedy, newspaper reporter. Feedback would really be appreciated on this one.




Monday, the second week of November: Michael

Michael chuckled softly to himself as he walked back into the main office. Betty looked up with a questioning eyebrow from her tallying of the week's absences. "If you found something out there to laugh about, I want to hear it," she groused.

"First rehearsal for the pageant," he said letting the glass door swing shut behind him. "Somehow I just can't wrap my brain around the concept of Jerome Mackey as a Wise Man."

Betty cackled. "She didn't."

Michael shared his goofiest grin. "She did."

"Oh sweet Lord," Betty said, still chuckling. "Lightning'll probably strike the building."

"Now, now... God's all about forgiveness," Michael said, amused. "And there'll be a lot to forgive in that pageant."

"I bet she picked Debbie Cypress for Mary," Betty said with an evil glint.

Michael leaned over to murmur in her ear, "Most Likely to Put Out Before Eighth Grade."

Betty howled.

Michael grinned and kept going toward his office.

"You're an evil man," Betty said, still laughing.

"You love me." Michael automatically loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket as he entered his office, still smiling. Taking a moment to stretch, trying to work a kink out of his back, he finally slid into what he privately called The Seat of Doom - the place where paper work and phone calls ate his life away day after day.

Being a middle school principal was something Michael had never considered as a career choice, but he found he liked it well enough. Parts of it, anyway. He liked the parts that let him interact with the kids. Sometimes he even substituted for an absent teacher, and he really liked that. But he hated the paperwork and the bureaucracy and the constant dealing with suppliers and sales people and irate parents. Truth be told, he'd like teaching better, but it was hard to justify not taking a promotion. That would have drawn too much attention. He already had to work hard enough to maintain his reputation as a laid-back, genial bachelor who just wasn't interested in companionship. The lower he could stay under the local radar, the better, as far as he was concerned.

Opening the top folder on his desk, he scanned yet another form to be filled out, this one concerning average daily attendance figures for September and October, and sighed. Rubbing his forehead, he glanced toward the bit of Betty's back he could see through his door, then slid open a desk drawer and pulled out Robert Ludlum's new book, The Bourne Supremacy. Five minutes later he was deeply involved in the problems of Jason Bourne.

----
"Dr. D?" Betty's voice on the speaker nearly gave him a heart attack, since Bourne was trying to get away from a Russian hit man. Michael straightened guiltily, dog-eared the page and slid the book back into the drawer.

"Yes?"

"Miss Harrison is here from the paper, about the Chr- holiday pageant."

"I'll be right there." Michael scrubbed briefly at his face and tightened his tie, then reached for his jacket, shrugging it on as he went out the door to greet the reporter from the local weekly. He shook her hand and they made small talk as he ushered her into his office and offered her coffee, which she wisely declined.

"I see you've caught on to the sad secret of our new coffee maker," Michael said with a grin as he settled back in his desk chair.

Maryann Harrison laughed, dropping her camera and purse on the floor and getting comfortable with pen and notepad. "Never accept the coffee after 10 a.m. Nine is smarter."

"Smart woman." Michael chuckled, crossing a booted foot over a knee and leaning back. He liked Maryann. She'd been with the Hoffman Herald for at least twenty years and was, like him, a career single. Now and then they ate lunch together and commiserated on the annoyances of having everyone you know trying to get you hooked up with somebody all the time. They also provided desperation dates for each other now and then. Since Maryann barely topped five feet tall and was quite sturdy, she also had to put up with all the well-meaning do-gooders dropping by the latest "sure thing" diets to her office.

One memorable Saturday afternoon, Michael and Maryann had made a stealth trip to an official police firing range in Jackson, where Maryann's connections had gotten them in, and they spent a gleeful few hours blowing holes in carefully labeled paper targets. Best therapy he'd ever had, Michael decided. He particularly enjoyed demolishing the school board and a few pastors. Maryann, he'd noticed, had left nothing but tatters of the mayor and the police chief.

"What's on that devious mind of yours?" Maryann asked, grinning across the desk at him.

"Just thinking about our target practice trip." Michael laughed and laced his fingers together across his stomach. "We need to do that again some day."

Maryann laughed. "Yeah, you may be right. Not right now, though. I'd be too tempted to haul the real mayor down there with me and hang him on the rack."

Michael grunted commiseration. Maryann and the mayor were constantly at war.

"Okay, so what about this holiday pageant, not Christmas pageant?" Maryann got quickly down to business, as she always did. "Gimme a quote."

"Since our world is growing smaller every day, we thought this would be a good chance to let our children - and our community - learn a little about the larger world in an entertaining way," Michael said deadpan, eyes dancing.

"Damn you're good," Maryann conceded, scrawling notes in her unique shorthand.

Michael laughed.

"You know you're gonna take some heat."

"Not much, I expect. The traditional nativity scene is still in there, complete with angels, shepherds, wise men and a 40-watt light bulb playing Jesus."

"Katie Johnson told me all about the pageant, even gave me a copy of the planned program. Wanna make a bet on what's gonna come back to bite you on the butt?" Maryann reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out while she waited on his response.

"I honestly don't think there'll be any backlash to speak of. Maybe a couple of the known kooks. Nothing more."

She lit up without asking - they'd been through that plenty of times - and unfolded the program from her notepad, studying it as she took a deep drag. "The second number, 'The Holly and the Ivy,' presented as a song 'that represents some of the ancient religions before the birth of Christ.' " She tapped the paper and looked over at Michael. "If you want, I can just loan you my pistol and you can go ahead and shoot yourself in the foot. It'll be faster and easier."

"That's so bland I don't see how it can even upset the Baptists," Michael said. "They know there were religions before the birth of Christ. Shit." Abruptly he leaned over and glanced out the door toward the front, but the reassuring back of Betty's dress was still in place. "Okay, okay... So maybe that one's a little risky. But the rest of it's no problem."

"Let's see... you've got a Hindu Festival of Lights, you've got Hanukkah, you've got La Posada from Mexico, all highly suspicious things, I don't have to point out, and then you've got the Santa parade."

"Oh, come on. The Santa parade is just cute, and the fifth graders are working really hard on their pictures of Santa around the world."

"Exactly, but mark my word, Mikey... Some of the nuts in this town who believe that Santa is just an acronym for Satan are gonna split a gut when they see a priest, a gnome or a woman in the Santa role. I'm telling you, it's gonna be hamburger on the highway."

"I think you're wrong."

"Well," she folded the program and tucked it back into her notebook, "We'll see if any volleys are fired next week after this Thursday's paper. And after that, you'll have a lovely two weeks for the shit to hit the fan." Maryann grinned her 'shooting up the mayor' grin. "Can't say I'll mind. Things've been kinda dull around here."

She stood, smashed the remains of her cigarette out against the metal inside of Michael's trashcan then dropped it in and gathered her purse and camera. He stood as well, to walk her out.

"Y'know, Mike... I'm kinda joking but kinda serious about this. You could take some heat." Her deepset hazel eyes looked up into his, thoughtful and questioning. "Are you set up to take heat?"

"Living a spotless life," he assured her, with the thought of brown eyes and a soft kiss drifting near the top of his memory.

"Good," she said with an abrupt crooked grin. "Us career singles gotta watch out for each other."

Michael flicked a glance toward the front office as they entered the short hallway, and noted a couple of parents waiting. "Did you get all the pictures you needed?" he asked Maryann.

She was a professional. She knew how to play the game. "Sure did. And if I find out I need any more info while I'm writing, I can give you a call, right?"

"Sure thing. Me or Ms. Johnson, either one."

"All right then." Maryann nodded to the parents as she left, and called, "Later," over her shoulder as she shoved the glass door open.

"Later," Michael said with a smile, then turned to the parents, who looked anxious.

"Dr. Delany," Betty said. "Mr. and Mrs. Edgin are here about Sandy's situation."

"Oh, yes," Michael smiled, back onto autopilot. "Come right in."
------
You with the sad eyes
don't be discouraged
-Cyndi Lauper


Tuesday: Jamie
Tuning out the newsroom's continuous low roar, Jamie was deep into writing a concise account of a multiple-arrest drug bust last night in Blue Springs when his phone rang. He growled under his breath and tried to wish it away, but it kept ringing. On the eighth ring he hit Save and grabbed the phone.

"Jamie Kennedy," he barked into the receiver.

There was a small hesitation on the other end. "I'm sorry," a distinctive raspy voice said. "Have I called at a bad time? Michael Delany, by the way."

"No... no," Jamie hastened to try to salvage this. It had been more than two weeks since their dinner and the kiss in the woods, and he'd almost given up on ever hearing from Michael again. "I was just working on a story. In my writing head, y'know."

A soft chuckle stirred through the phone line. "I know how that can be. I won't keep you, though. You're probably close to deadline."

Jamie flicked a glance up at the central newsroom clock. 4:36. "Still got twenty minutes or so. So ... what's up?"

"Were you serious about wanting to go riding?"

"Yeah, man... I'd love to. No kidding."

"How about Sunday? Afternoon."

"I'm off then, so perfect. Where do I go?"

"Baker's Stables. It's on Marvin Trail, about halfway between Blue Springs and Hoffman. You'll see the sign. Just follow the dirt road. The stable's at the end. The owner's name is Sean Baker. He'll take care of you. Around 1:30. Wear boots if you have any."

"Will you be there?"

Again, the slight hesitation, then... "Yes. I'll be there. Looking forward to it."

"So am I."

"I'll see you then."

"Later."

"Yes." And the phone went dead.

Jamie sat and looked at it until the annoying 'dead phone' noise started up before he hung up the receiver. Riding, Sunday afternoon. Just the two of them? Sounded like maybe Michael had decided to take a chance...

But no, best not to let himself start to think like that. Two weeks had given Jamie plenty of time to think about Michael Delany and his, to Jamie, odd responses at their last meeting. He'd also spoken to a couple of older gay men he knew, asking for their advice on the situation. He hadn't really understood, two weeks ago, how very different his experience of the gay world had been from Michael's.

Granted, Jamie didn't blaze around like a flaming queen, announcing his queer status off every available rooftop. But neither had he ever gone to any particular trouble to disguise it. He didn't maul other men in public, but then he doubted he'd maul women in public if he were hetero, either. Some things just deserved to be kept private. He didn't swish, or mince, or lisp, or cry over every bloody thing. He was just who he was, and he found men sexually attractive. and that didn't really seem to have a hell of a lot to do with his everyday life.

But he understood now that Michael's experience was probably far different, and that it might take some serious time for him to come to grips with his own sexuality much less feel comfortable with it around others.

But Jamie wasn't going anywhere. He had time to spare. And he found Michael Delany to be one beautiful, enticing, fascinating package he was looking forward to unwrapping. Starting Sunday.

Jamie swung back to his monitor with a wide smile on his face, and continued the story of the stupid drug dealers and how they got busted.

Five days and counting.

Comments

[bratlupa.livejournal.com]

I really like your story, and I can't wait for Micheal and Jamie to go riding together. So please update soon.

[doodle83.livejournal.com]

This is so good. Seriously good. I like the way Jamie's the more confident, seductive character, and you've captured the horrible dilemmas and paranoia of a gay man in a small biblebelt town so beautifully. Plus the looming threat of Sean's barking mad wife. Magic and nervewracking.