It had finally arrived: moving day. Michael and Ben were in Ben's bedroom, which looked like a tornado had struck. Ben was helping his boyfriend unpack and put his clothes away when he came across a pair of tight jeans that he'd bought for Michael several months ago. They looked unused. Ben looked at the tight jeans, then at the rest of Michael's scattered clothes, and finally to his lover, who, even now, was wearing the baggiest of baggy pants. Finally, he asked the question that had been burning in his brain for a long time: "Baby?"
"Yeah, Ben?"
"What's with all the baggy pants?"
Michael looked up from the suitcase he had been unpacking. "What are you talking about?"
"Your pants. You never wear tight ones. I think you'd look really good in them."
"I have plenty of tight pants."
"Where? I haven't seen them."
"What about the ones you're holding right now?"
Ben raised his eyebrows. "These?" He held them aloft, demonstrating the store tags that were still attached and the manufacturer's stickers plastered on the legs.
"Well, I have others besides those."
Ben spread his arms wide at the clothes draped over almost every piece of furniture and threw out the challenge, "Show me."
"What difference does it make? I think these look fine."
Ben shook his head and tisked. "In these, your ass could have disappeared all together for all I know."
Michael stopped folding the tee-shirt in his hand, dropped it on the bed, and said smoothly, "I can reassure you, if you'd like."
Ben sauntered to the one chair in the room that was not covered with Michael's belongings. He settled himself comfortably and said, airily, "Knock yourself out."
Michael took a few steps closer, although he was still beyond Ben's reach. He slowly slipped the tee-shirt over his head, making a big production of it, somehow managing to flex and stretch every muscle in his torso. His hand moved to his belt. "Should I?"
Ben was breathing a little faster, his mouth slightly open, his tongue protruding a bit as if he could taste Michael from across the room. "Don't you dare stop."
Michael began to pace slowly in front of Ben, struggling with the buckle, but meanwhile displaying his smooth back and the toned muscles in his arms.
"Do you want me to help you with that?" offered Ben hopefully. His fingers itched to aid in the undraping of his lover's creamy skin. His mouth ached to taste and lick him all over.
Michael smiled slightly. "Oh, no. You stay right where you are." He slipped the belt off and tossed it aside. He stopped his pacing and moved a little closer. He popped the button on his pants and pulled the zipper down with agonizing slowness.
The tiny metallic clicks seemed to drag across Ben's chest like fingers touching and tantalizing but never quite satisfying. His chest tightened with every breath and his heart began a slow staccato beat in his throat.
Michael stopped when the zipper reached the bottom. Between the open pants flaps, glimpses of his taut, smooth stomach, and a tease of dark hair were revealed. He brought his hand to his chest, rubbing lightly, saying with distraction, "Maybe we shouldn't do this now. There's so much unpacking to do."
Ben felt his heart thud out of place. He almost didn't hear Michael's words. When the meaning penetrated the haze that surrounded him, he nodded in agreement. "But I feel hot now. I hope you don't mind." Without another word, he slipped off his tee-shirt, leaned his head back, and stroked his chest. "I'm going to need a shower after we're done. I think the air conditioner isn't working right."
Michael winced when he bit his own tongue. "Let's make a deal. Whoever gets all their clothes off first gets to make love to the loser."
Ben's eyes snapped open. "Bet." He hopped out of the chair.
They raced to remove the rest of the fabric barriers until they were standing before each other, totally revealed. Ben walked forward, edging Michael backwards until they hit the dresser. He lifted Michael to sit on the dresser and pressed himself between Michael's welcoming thighs. "Who won?."
"Who cares?"
Later on, when the real world ruthlessly crept back into their senses, they welcomed it with regret. Ben collapsed into the chair, pulling Michael into his lap. He buried his face in the crook of Michael's neck and inhaled deeply as if he could absorb every molecule of his lover into himself. Sense slowly returned. The storm of desire had calmed, and he held him, never wanting to let go. Gradually, faint memory nudged him. "You never answered my question."
Michael lazily traced circles on Ben's chest, too sated to do much more than breathe and feel. "What question?"
Ben opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned in confusion. "I can't remember."
"Guess it wasn't that important, then."
Ben tilted Michael's face up for another deep kiss. "You must be right."
The next morning, Ben scanned the bedroom and frowned with confusion. "Did you bring more stuff in from the moving van?"
Michael had already shaken off the disappointment about his mini-fantasy of being done with all this. "No. I brought everything in yesterday."
"Did you take clothes out of the closet and put them back on the bed? It looks like there are more unpacked clothes than there were a few hours ago."
Michael sighed. "I'm never gonna finish this. It would go faster if you helped me."
"I helped you yesterday."
Michael smiled, walked to Ben, and kissed him. He licked the sugary coffee of his lips and smirked. "I really liked having your 'help' yesterday. I wouldn't mind having a little 'help' now," he said suggestively.
Ben returned the kiss and pulled away with regret. "I have to leave for class. I'm already running late. If there's anything left, I'll help you when I get home." He went to the closet and grabbed his jacket. As he pulled the item off the hanger, another hanger snagged and fell, dumping a pile of denim on the closet floor. Ben stooped to pick up the jeans. One of Michael's. He rounded on his lover. "NOW, I remember what I wanted to ask you yesterday! What's with the baggy pants you wear all the time? You have such a hot little body. Why cover it up?"
"Yeah, right. Maybe I should walk around in a loin cloth all day and let screaming millions admire my seething sexuality."
Ben waggled his eyebrowns and chuckled. "Why bother with a loin cloth? And I still want to hear your reasons for these pants."
"Ben, don't you have to go to work?"
"I'll pedal my bicycle really fast." Ben sat on the one clear spot on the bed and waited. "Proceed."
Michael sat next to Ben and said seriously, "The thing you need to know is: it's all about sex..."
"And if anything happens to one of those precious organs, GENERATIONS would be destroyed!" This last statement in Mr. May's sex education course, thundered across the room and made hearts quake--all hearts except one.
One, slim hand, shot up in the air and waved for attention.
"Yes, Mindy?" Bernard May sighed inwardly. For a fourth grader, Mindy had a remarkable ability to get on his nerves.
"Mr. May, are boys more important than girls?"
Mindy was also very bright and liked to ask the tough questions. Her best friend, Michael Novontny, slumped down in his seat, hoping that Mr. May would forget that he and Mindy were friends. No such luck.
"Maybe if you and Mr. Novotny would pay attention to the lecture instead of giggling back and forth, you wouldn't need to ask that question, Miss Williams."
Michael was indignant about the accusations, but experience had taught him that arguing only brought more trouble. He folded his hands on his desk and tried to look like hard-working and smart.
Mindy was persistent. "I WAS paying attention. You said that if a boy loses a tessicle--"
"TESTICLE!" The class jumped at the shouted word and Mr. May became a bit flustered.
Mindy continued. "If a boy loses a TESTICLE--let's say someone kicked it really hard..." Most of the boys groaned in empathy. "...because the boy was bothering somebody." She pinned a glare on Tod, the class bully. "That generations would be destroyed."
"Yes, the male testicle produces millions of--"
"I know. But what about ovalies?"
Mr. May started to grind his teeth. "OVARIES."
"Yeah, Mr. May. What about them?"
"Mindy, the female ovary does not produce as many eggs as the testicle produces--"
"So more is better?"
"That's not what I'm saying. If--"
"So what are you saying?"
Mr. May's face had started to turn colors. "If you would stop interrupting--" BBBRRRIING. The final school bell rang, bringing the discussion to a close. "Class, we will continue this lecture tomorrow...uninterrupted."
As the other students gathered their books and left the classroom, Michael hustled to the school's front exit.
"Michael! Wait up!" Mindy ran up to her best friend. "Aren't we gonna walk home together?"
"Are you crazy? Mr. May was really pissed!"
Mindy shrugged. "So what? I don't like him anyway."
"You don't like anyone."
"I like you."
Michael waited. When his friend didn't continue, he asked, "That's it?"
"Who else matters--besides my mom, my dad, and my Snoopy?" Snoopy was, of course, Mindy's pet beagle, who bore a remarkable resemblance to his namesake.
"Whatever. You wanna come to my house? My mom made brownies yesterday."
"Sure."
They started walking towards the Novotny home. As they walked, they talked.
"Michael, you can't let Tod keep messing with you."
"He's a lot bigger than me. And he's always with his friends."
"Just knee him in the nuts."
Michael gasped. "I can't do that! He'd kill me!"
"He'd be too busy trying not to throw up."
"What makes you such an expert?"
"My mom showed me how to do it. She says that all girls should know how to save themselves in case of an emergency."
"I'm not a girl."
Mindy shoved Michael's shoulder. "I know, stupid. But you could still use the knee thing. I bet Tod would never bother you again."
"I don't know. What if I miss?"
"How could you miss? They're not that big."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Show me?"
They stopped walking and Mindy demonstrated her deadly technique, which had been passed down from mother to daughter, as far back as memory allowed. She embellished her moves with several, "Ha's" picked up from the karate movies she liked to watch on rainy, Saturday mornings. "I think you've got it."
Michael smiled, proud of himself. "Yeah, I think I do. Now the next time that rotten bully, Tod tries to--"
"HEY, NOVOTNY! What are you and Parallel Lines doing?" Tod had long ago discovered the power of hurtful nicknames. Mindy had been dubbed, "Parallel Lines" due to her lack of development in the chest area. For Michael, he had a variety of names. "Where's the flood, Nerd Boy?"
Michael hung his head; the pants he was wearing embarrassed him. Though he was smaller than many of the boys in his class, he was still growing. Unfortunately, money was tight and it was sometimes a while before his mother could buy bigger clothes. Today's pants were too snug and they revealed his white socks at the ankle.
"I was talking to you, Dipshit!"
"Hey!" Mindy's proverbial feathers plumped up in outrage on behalf of her friend.
"Shut up, Douche Bag! No one wants to hear girls talk. They're not as important as boys, remember?" Tod sneered nastily and the two friends behind him laughed.
Mindy and Michael looked at each other, both thinking the same thought. They stepped, simultaneously, closer to Tod. He frowned.
"Tod?" said Mindy.
"What?" replied the bully, belligerently.
Mindy looked at Michael. She grinned and said, "Generations..."
Michael added with a wicked grin and cried, "...DESTROYED! HA!"
The two best friends swung their knees in seamless harmony, their aim straight and true.
"AAAARRGGGHHH!!!"
Ben squirmed a bit uncomfortably. "So, did he ever bother you again?"
"No. His friends dumped him and started calling him 'Numb Nuts.' He changed schools at the end of the semester."
"And this is why you wear baggy pants? Because of a childhood bully?"
"That's why I started. It became a habit."
"Whatever happened to Mindy?"
"I don't know. A few years ago, I heard, she was releasing a self-defense teaching video for women and children. I lost touch with her after that."
"Michael?"
"Yeah, honey?"
"Remind me never to make you angry."
"Don't be silly." Michael drew Ben's head down for a kiss. "I love you and I love all your parts in their original shape and condition."
Ben sighed in mock relief. "Whew! What a relief. I thought I was going to have to start sleeping with an athletic cup on."
Michael slid his hand down to Ben's lap and cupped the subject of their discussion. "That simply won't be allowed. I demand full and easy access at all times."
Ben closed his eyes and groaned. "If only I didn't have to go to class."
"You'll just have to pedal your bike faster than you ever have before." And with that, Michael pushed Ben down to the bed, and exercised his God-given rights.
After Ben finally left for work, complaining about how he'd never make it there on time, Michael returned to his unpacking while he relived the story. He'd changed it a little bit for Ben's sake and for his own. Reality was a little less triumphant than he cared to remember...
"...Shut up, Douche Bag! No one wants to hear girls talk. They're not as important as boys, remember?" Tod sneered nastily and the two friends behind him laughed. The two older boys walked until they surrounded the smaller children.
One of them reached out and shoved the small, dark-haired boy.
Michael hit the ground with a thud and a groan. The gravel dug into his palms, and his cheek burned where it had scraped the sidewalk. He blinked back tears and tried to stand, but a heavy weight pressed him down until he could barely breathe. In his misery, he could still here the voices above him, and the scuffle while they pushed Mindy around. Soon, she hit the ground too, but she jumped back up, screaming at the top of her head.
Michael felt the pressure on his back ease and the world tilt as he was flipped over by rough hands.
"Hey, Dipshit! I heard your mother's too broke to buy new clothes for you. What happened to your daddy? He saw your mother's ugly face and decided to run off? Or maybe he saw your ugly face and killed himself?"
Michael screamed, "Shut up!" He tried to hit tormenter, but his arms were pinned down. His legs flailed uselessly, trying to kick out, but unable to land any blows.
Todd leaned over and grinned evilly. "Your mother should have put you up for adoption. Then she wouldn't be on welfare."
"She's NOT on welfare! Get offa me!"
Todd covered Michael's mouth and nose with his hand and pressed. "Ask nicely."
Michael's eyes widened, but he refused to make a sound. Todd's hand pressed a little harder and cut off Michael's breath. The smaller boy tried to hold his breath, but spots appeared before his eyes and the world started to get dark. Suddenly, the obstruction was gone and he dragged in deep breaths of the cool autumn air. Todd was being held by the scruff of his neck, by Mr. May, the health teacher.
"What is the meaning of this, young man?"
"We were just playing!"
Mr. May squeezed Todd's nape and shook him a little. "That's not what it looked like to me. We're going to have a little talk with your parents, aren't we?"
"Yes, Mr. May."
"You can expect a call to your house this evening."
The teacher released the bully who ran off with his two friends. He turned to the two disheveled children who by now had sat up and had their arms around each other for comfort. He squatted to their level and asked, "Would you like a ride home?"
Both children shook their heads in refusal. Michael was too shaken to speak. Mindy said in a quivering voice, "I'm not supposed to get in a car with people besides my parents." Her earlier bravado was tattered, and she sniffed back a tear.
Mr. May looked at them with concern. "What if I just walk you back to the school and we'll call your parents?"
Michael found his voice. "No!" He startled the other two and himself with his volume. It was as if, having had his breath denied, he had to make up for it. "My house is really close by and my mom is home. That's where we were going."
"Well then, I'll walk you home. Let's go."
The two best friends stood, brushed the dirt and gravel off of each other's clothes, and set off for their previous destination. Mindy's book bag hung by one strap, the other one having been torn in the scuffle. Michael limped, favoring his skinned knee. The tatters of the hole in his pants flapped as he walked. They had traveled only a block or two, in silence, before Mindy started to chatter between sniffs.
"I hope his eyes fall out! I hope he wakes up and he can't see and they fall on the ground. Then, when he looks for them, he'll step on them and squash them!"
Michael got into the spirit of the game. "Maybe he'll slip on one of the eyes and fall. Then he hits the ground, his arm will pop out like your Barbie doll."
"I don't think it would be that easy. Someone would have to rip the arms off and there'd be lots of blood and stuff. I was watching a movie last Saturday, when this Kung Fu guy, pulled..."
Mr. May trailed behind the two wounded warriors, and listened to them plot one gory revenge after another. His mind wandered until he Mindy startled him with a sudden: "GENERATIONS DESTROYED! HA!" as her knee jerked up in an ageless gesture.
Michael giggled and copied her movement perfectly. He said, "I bet he'd never bother us again."
Mindy threw her arm around Michael's shoulders and replied, "Nah. He'd be too busy throwing up." They moved onto the subject of which cartoon was their favorite, their previous trauma put aside.
Mr. May shook his head in wonder at the resilience of children.
Michael put away the last tee shirt as his memories faded to the background and present day returned. How could he have forgotten? After Mr. May had returned them to the safety of Debbie Novotny's care, Michael and his best friend had been comforted with brownies and warm milk. Afterwards, they ran up stairs to race through their homework so they could watch the afternoon cartoons. Mr. May sat with Debbie and had a long talk. Michael never knew the exact content of that discussion, but Todd had never again been a bother. He had been transferred to the other fourth grade class and had left the school at the end of the semester. No one had missed him, not even his so-called friends.
Despite their limited budget, Michael became the owner of several pairs of pants, all of which were too big. They had all been second-hand, but clean and in good condition. More importantly, they had been long enough and loose enough to not be embarrassing.
Michael picked up the pants that Ben had bought for him several months ago. After a moment of indecision, he slipped out of the pants he had on and put on the new ones. He stood in front of a full-length mirror and examined himself from all sides. Not a bad fit. Not bad at all. He stripped off the store tags and stickers and decided to keep them on until Ben got home that evening. Maybe he'd even tell him the REAL story behind the baggy pants. Whistling happily, he returned to his happy task of moving in with the man he loved.