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Night Dancing

Gael and Jack in 1920

By DuointherainPublished 3 years ago 8 min read
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“Get up,” Jack whispered, leaning over to whisper in Gael’s ear. He knew his lover was awake. To the rest of the household, his creeping out of his room and into Gael’s would have been as good as silent, but to Gael, well he would have heard him the moment the door opened.

Gael had been jumpy before the war, but since returning without an eye, a busted knee, and a paperthin temper, the slightest sound would wake him.

“What do you want,” Gael said, not moving, his eyelids not even fluttering, even though Jack held the lantern right over his face.

“I have something for you,” Jack whispered. The rest of the house was still an issue. He wanted this time alone with his lover. “Get up.”

It was 1919 and they’d been lovers for four years that day. It was also 1919 and that wasn’t something that could be shared with the world if they wanted to continue being a doctor and a lawyer, not to mention alive. Gael sighed and opened his eye, rolling so he could see Jack. His smile touched his eye, even if his mouth stayed neutral. “You could just get in bed with me.”

“I could, but I have a gift for you. It’s our fourth anniversary, Gael. Just throw on a robe. We’re going out, but not too far. Don’t wear your knee brace.”

With a grunt, Gael sat up and swung his legs over the bed. “You bring a wheelchair? It hurts and I’m not making those stairs without it.”

“I did,” Jack said triumphantly. He had stepped back just enough to give Gael space to get up. Jack was usually the calm and orderly one, with neatly trimmed red hair and fluffy sideburns. His green eyes sparkled with excitement now, catching the light of the lantern’s flame. “Hurry. I’m excited.”

“Oh god,” Gael groaned, reaching for the robe that Jack had laid out for him. His hair was longer, moonlight blond, curly, and disrespectful of society’s expectations. His remaining eye was summer blue. He was leaner than he was when he’d left for war, but still toned, thought his right leg was stronger than his left. The limp and his cane seemed to even give him an advantage in the courtroom, the honorable Captain McNeil. He stood, wrapped the thick linen robe around and let himself nearly fall into the wheelchair Jack was holding onto. He didn’t bother to tie the belt. It has always been his position that wares on offer should also be in display.

Fussy and Baptist prim, Jack tied it for him, then gave him a quick, tender, almost chaste kiss. “What time is it, Jackie?”

“Sometime after midnight,” Jack said, pushing him just close enough to grab his pocket watch. “You’ll sleep better after this!”

Gael flicked open his watch and decided that anything after two am ought to make for good sleeping. “I expect. Now,” he said, holding the arms on both sides to push himself up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!” They slipped out of Gael’s room and down the hall without a sound.

There were two flights of stairs to get to the first floor. Jack had had groves cut into them, with ramp wedges in between, so he could just wheel Gael right on down, going backwards, of course. It was all engineered to be as quiet as possible. Sometimes they were like teenagers with the resources of men.

Once they were out of the house and on the smoothed stone path, Jack leaned close to whisper in Gael’s ear. Distraction hit him though and he kissed, licked the edge of Gael’s ear, before speaking, “You remember that extension I’ve been putting on the clinic?”

“I hadn’t thought much about it, but yes,” Gael said, voice showing a rising interest. “Have you built us a love nest?”

“We have your bed for that,” Jack teased, kissing the top of Gale’s head. “Now be a good man and close your eye, keep it shut, no matter what, until I tell you it’s okay to look.”

“Okay,” Gael agreed. “Hints?”

“I love you.” Jack said as he moved them forward.

A scream cut the night, starting low and rising, drawn out, like a soul being ripped in half. Gael reached back towards Jack, breath caught and muttered a prayer in Irish.

Jack stopped, took his hand, and leaned down to reassure him. “It’s just an owl, Gael, not the banshee!”

“Bitch took my eye,” Gael snarled, voice low.

The scream rolled over them again and Gael’s grip tightened.

“Open your eye and look up,” Jack urged.

Above them circled a large white owl, wings wide as it glided above. It screamed again, then dove for something in the small wooded area to the side of the house. “It’s beautiful,” Gael said, “But I still think it’s the incarnation of the banshee!”

“Tonight it’s after a small rodent, not you. Want me to tell you what your surprise is,” Jack offered, moving them forward again. “I will, if you want me to.”

“Is there whiskey where we are going?”

“No,” Jack said. He ran around and opened up the door to his clinic so that Gael could push himself up the ramp and in. “But this will be better!”

“Better than whiskey or you in my bed? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“OH you will,” Jack promised, moving to a space at the back of the single room that was his clinic.

The wall looked normal, just a poster about wearing a mask to defeat the flu, which had mostly been gone for a year, but Gael hated that thing too. It was just a bad night to get up and go do things. Electric lighting filled the room just beyond the secret door and a bit of a reel started to play.

Jack opened that wall like it was a door and disappeared in with the lantern,. Gael didn’t mind the dark and knew the clinic inside out. One would have to, if one were going to have alone time with one’s lover and not break any of the fancy medical equipment. He locked the wheelchair’s wheels and stood up, determined to walk the rest of the way, no cane, no brace. Holding to the edge of the exam table, he tested his knee, demanding that it do its job. Before the war, dancing, Irish dancing, with his family and friends, and been at the center of his life. He had been one of the best dancers in New York.

By the time he got to the end of the table, he wasn’t sure if he could even walk on his own. Jack was back and got a quick arm around Gael’s waist, Gael’s arm over his shoulder, and into the secret room they went. “I wanted you to have your eyes closed, but that darn owl. Now, I know,” Jack said as he guided Gael to a bench, “that this doesn’t look like... I mean, it’s a dance room, no windows or anything, completely private. The floor is sprung like a ballet floor.”

“I. Can’t. Dance. Jack Walker,” Gael said, close to tears, lips pressed thinly together.

Jack held up both hands, “No, wait, just give me a minute! I have a new brace for you. It’s French, custom made.”

“I’m not Kate-Marie,” Gael grumbled.

Jack ran across the room to get the box, opening it as he went. “Just lets try it and see?”

“I forgot our anniversary. How do you always remember these things?”

“I take notes.” Jack said, kneeling so he could put on the brace. “I think this will help a lot. Now it wasn’t designed for dancing, but I think it will work.”

“You’re the doctor,” Gael said, interested and maybe getting a little hopeful.

“Now bear in mind that you’re going to have to strengthen this leg and it will take sometime.” Jack finished the last strap, making sure it was secure, but comfortable in the way that Gael preferred. “Now, let’s stand up.”

“We couldn’t do this in the daytime?” Worry, even an edge of fear touched his voice.

“Because seeing you dance makes me happy in ways I’d rather not have to deal with during the day, now, come on, you’re all bravery and wit, my love.”

Gael sort of threw his hands into Jack’s and threw himself to his feet. If he was going to fall, it was going to be dramatic! Except he didn’t fall. “Oh!”

“Is it more comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Gael said, breathless. His expression and therefore his face was more like Gael before the war. Chewing on his lip, he looked like he was in his early twenties and not early fifties, which was good, because he was only twenty-two. The first step was simple, just the start of a jig. Very cautiously, he moved to his left side and repeated the step.

The next words were Irish and excited, way too fast for Jack to understand them.

When they made their way back to the house, the sun was just coming up and Gael was actually laughing, laughing like he used to.

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About the Creator

Duointherain

I write a lot of lgbt+ stuff, lots of sci fi. My big story right now is The Moon's Permission.

I've been writing all my life. Every time I think I should do something else, I come back to words.

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