Chapter Text
Dick began to mourn the privacy he’d had at the military- ha! What a contradictory statement. He meant it more like, he mourned the distance between himself and the leech that called himself Henry Gorgan.
Henry had slipped letter upon letter into their post-box. Dick had been staying with the Hanlon’s for a month now. The bruise at his tailbone had long-since faded. Sometimes he would press his fingers against the thin skin there and reminisce about the pain.
When Charlotte walked in holding a pale-yellow envelope Dick hadn’t thought twice until she slipped it to him. The page-and-a-half of a poorly written apology hadn’t moved him, not one bit. He told Charlotte to tell Leroy that he didn’t want to go to the theatre anymore because Henry Gorgan was desperate for a fuck and Dick wasn’t in the mood. Charlotte had rolled her eyes but agreed.
Now, Dick was thumbing a novella, not really reading. He could flick on the television, but the more he thought about the programs it had the more he didn’t want to. Leroy was out fishing with Will. Charlotte was shopping. Dick was home alone.
He rested his head against the arm of the couch. The sun beamed down at him through the window.
He should call one of the boys. Pauly, maybe. Dick sat up with a grunt, throwing the novella on the coffee table and standing. His joints protested, whining through the loud cracks they made. Dick extended his right leg waist-high, kicked his shin, then when his foot was back to the ground he did the same with the left. A good shake-off.
The telephone rang twice before someone answered.
“Hello?” Jerome’s voice carried over, eager. Dick imaged he might’ve been fingering the cord, thinking it was a girl.
“Hello, Jerome,” Dick said kindly, “Can you put Pauly on?”
Jerome made a loud ‘oh!’ of pleased surprise.
“Hi, Dick!” He exclaimed, “How you been? It’s weird without you here, man.”
That thought made Dick’s chest warm. He liked his presence being missed, it made him feel like he mattered.
“I’ve been fine, thanks. How’ve you been sleeping?”
Jerome answered without thinking. Jerome did that often. His mind went a mile a minute, which caused him trouble when he spoke or acted outta line. If he had thought about it, he would ask how Dick knew he had trouble sleeping.
“Not great, man, I’ll be honest. I sneak out and jog to tire myself out, but that just makes me sweaty and tired, not sleepy, y’know?”
Dick tried not to feel guilty.
“I’m sorry to hear about that,” Dick paused long enough to not sound rude, and phrased the next part like a question, knowing Jerome likely forgot Dick had even asked, “Hey, could you get Pauly?”
“Oh, yeahyeah,” Jerome leaned back, and Dick heard a distance shout for Pauly. Twenty seconds later someone spoke again.
“Hey, Dick, what’s up?” Pauly sounded a little breathless. Dick imaged he’d ran over to the phone.
“You busy? I’m bored outta my mind, here.” Dick had selfishly dove into Pauly’s mind the first time they’d all sat at the dinner table together in the Halon’s home. Dick had only paddled, but he caught what he wanted to know. Pauly knew Dick was gay, Pauly didn’t care that Dick was gay, and that Pauly was quite fond of Dick and considered him a good friend.
“Sure, Dick. Let me finish this game, though. I gotta bet going awn.”
Half-an-hour later Dick was walking along-side Pauly, who was sulking. He’d lost five dollars. His ears were flushed pink with rage and he kept kicking a rock down the empty road. Dick tutted and thwacked his shoulder. Pauly flinched.
“What the fuck!” He whined, rubbing it. Dick shook his head.
“Would you get over it? I didn’t call you to sulk. Now, entertain me,” Dick gestured in front of himself, a big mocking grin painting his face. Pauly scoffed, just jogged ahead. He turned dramatically, arms spread.
“Ladies and gents!” He yelled, “The great Pauly Russo!”
Dick cheered. Pauly did a half squat. Dick paused his cheering. What was Pauly doing? He looked around nervously, mentally figuring out where to drag him in case he somehow got them into shit. Pauly whooped-
He threw himself backwards. Dick gasped, then cheered again. Louder. Pauly flicked his shirt collar.
“And that’s how you do it, ladies and gents!”
“How’d you do that, man?” Dick asked eagerly, “I never figured it out.”
Pauly tapped the side of his nose. Dick scoffed and shoved his shoulder again.
They ended up feeding the ducks, of all things. Dick tore up the slices of bread and threw them into the pond. He didn’t imagine dirty, wet breadcrumbs were tasty but ducks seemed to like them well enough. Pauly tossed a slice.
“You’re a dick,” Dick said, annoyed, “They wont be able to eat that. They only got small peaks.”
“Are those peaks?” Pauly asked thoughtfully, “I always thought they were bills.”
Before Dick could indulge in that discussion, someone just out of sight coughed. Both men turned to look, and who fucking else than Henry Gorgan. He stood, all six-foot of him, shamefaced. He must’ve come down the path just to the side of their bench. Dick stuck his nose up at him and turned away.
“Dick,” Henry said in pathetic eagerness, “Have you been getting my letters?”
Pauly looked between them, confused. Dick watched his hands slowly tear the crust off a slice and throw it without looking at the pond and tore off some of his own. He threw it before answering.
“I’ve been getting ‘em,” Dick said snootily, “And readin’ ‘em. You can stop sending ‘em now, save yourself the money.”
“I’ve been the one delivering them, actually,” Dick couldn’t see his face, but from his tone he sounded embarrassed. As he should be. Dick turned to face him, angry.
“I don’t know why you can’t just give up,” he spat, “I’ve no interest in doing you-know-what with you.”
“Oh!” Pauly said, pieces clicking. Dick ignored him and readied himself to stand, get right in stupid fucking Henry Gorgan’s face. Maybe throw a punch if he needed to.
“I don’t want that from you!” Henry defended, then lowered his voice and looked at the passersbys, then Pauly, before responding quieter than before, “Just let me take you out. Just once.”
Dick sneered, then he thought. Maybe it was just because he was lonely, and that he had no one in Derry to run to apart from Charlotte and Leroy, and maybe Pauly, but he actually considered it. He scanned Henry’s face. He wasn’t exactly bad looking- in fact, he was mostly Dick’s type. If his jaw where a little squarer, then he would be bang-on. He decided that maybe he would give Henry-fucking-Gorgan a chance.
“Fine,” Dick grumbled. Henry’s face lit up like a pack of matches. He clapped his hands together in finality- Dick wouldn’t be able to take that back. Dick wants to shrink into park bench as he feels Pauly’s stare at his side. Could practically see the big, shit-eating grin spread as he felt the delight coming off hi. It wasn’t innocent delight, though. It was the ‘I have material to mock my friend’ delight. Very different.
“You won’t regret this, Dick, really.” Henry smiled to himself, chuckling. Dick pursed his lips.
“We’ll see.” He muttered. As soon as Henry basically skipped off, Pauly was on him like a dog on a bone.
“You’re fucking kidding, man,” Pauly grabbed Dick’s shoulder, cackling, “Oh, man, you’re easy!”
“Fuck off, Pauly!” Dick snapped, swatting him. He shuffled to the edge of the bench, but Pauly followed. He caught Dick around the neck with his arm, pulling him close. Dick elbowed him in the side.
“Dick is a big ol’ softy,” Pauly sang, “Dick can’t say no to nobody.”
Dick responded by pushing Pauly’s head down until he tumbled off the bench. Still, he lay on the dirt giggling.
“You act all tough, Dick,” Pauly winked at him, rising and brushing the dirt off himself, “But I know the real Dicky.”
Dick choose to take the high ground and ignore him. He turned his nose up, and left with Pauly trailing after him, still giggling.
Dick stared in the bathroom mirror, squinting at himself. He’d toyed with his hair until Charlotte had snapped and said his hair looked nice. He re-adjusted his tie. Again. God, why was he nervous?
Well, because he hadn’t been on a date in years, that’s why. Dick, in his later years, had shyed away from the clubs he used to frequent. They were flooded with younger men, and Dick had no attraction to them. He preferred someone older, or at least the same age. That, and his job, meant that his dates usually took place between the walk from the bar to his hotel room.
Did his shirt go well with his tie? Dick grumbled. He reached for a yellow one and held it over the orange. His shirt was yellow-ish.
No. That would be too much yellow. Dick threw the tie down and ran a hand down his face. Henry had told him he’d get him at seven. Seven. Dick looked at his watch; six-thirty-five.
He would wait in the living room. Yes. Will was down there watching cartoons, so Dick would join him. He took one last look at himself in the mirror, nodded, and went downstairs.
Will was laying side-ways on a chair, locked in on the TV. Dick plopped down on the couch and turned his brain off. The bright characters on the TV did things that made Dick sigh- bored out of his mind. Will, however, was loving it. He giggled at every joke and nibbled at his nail unconsciously. Dick gently nudged his mind, and the hand dropped away from his mouth.
The time passed sluggishly. Dick’s glanced skittered between the clock on the wall and the watch on his wrist, as if they would show anything different. Finally, when it went ten-minuets-to-seven Dick grew irritated.
Chivalry was dead, apparently. If Henry wanted to prove Dick’s expectations wrong then he could at least show up ear-
Knock. Knock. Knock.