literature

All-American Boys

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He couldn’t sleep again. The full moon shone brightly through the open window, but it wasn’t the light that was keeping Jean Girard from the refuge of sleep. He was distracted.
    Jean slid as silently as he could off of the bed so as not to wake Gregory. He walked to the open window and looked out at the empty streets of the midnight hour. It was such a lonely time, and it fit Jean’s mood completely. It wasn’t that he was physically alone, he had Gregory, but Jean continually felt alienated no matter what company surrounded him. His mind was always elsewhere and it was beginning to try Gregory’s normally content disposition.
    Poor Gregory, Jean didn’t mean to be so unaffectionate with him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love him anymore, quite the contrary, but Jean no longer felt passion burn through him when he made love to Gregory. He supposed they were just sinking into the marital routine all couples must eventually succumb to, when the love begins to fade and sex becomes more routine than romantic. Honestly though, his life with Gregory had never exactly been one of passion. Gregory was an entirely submissive being and though Jean’s dominant nature was well satisfied with its domination of his partner, he had recently found himself wishing for something else, wishing to duplicate a passion which had only recently discovered.
    His mind unwillingly ran the sequence of events which had transpired between him and Monsieur Bobby just after the race. He could still feel the pressure of Ricky’s lips on his. He remembered how shocked he had been at first and how satisfied he was after. He could still feel the cloth of his jacket against his palms as he gripped tightly to Ricky wishing to pull himself closer, willing the kiss to deepen. No one had ever kissed him like that and Jean could feel even now, even just remembering the kiss, that he was becoming aroused.
    He guiltily let his mind play with the idea of Ricky being the one who was waiting for him in the queen sized bed, snoring lightly and satisfied with the sex which had exhausted them both only a few hours ago. He had to admit, the idea made his heart pound a little harder.
    Gregory coughed in his sleep, as if to remind Jean that he, not Ricky Bobby, was the one waiting for him to come back to bed. Jean ran his hand through his thick black hair. What am I going to do…?


    “Mais, Jean…”
    “Gregory, please try to understand. I know I told you that we would go to Stockholm after Ricky Bobby beat me, but I don’t think I can give it up just yet.”
    “Jean, tu as promis…” Gregory puffed out his lower lip and lowered his eyes disappointedly and appearing the absolute picture of a submissive housewife seeking to use her feminine wiles to change her husbands mind.
    “Gregory, please don’t give me the face. You knew this is what I loved when you married me. I thought I could leave it whenever I wanted, but the truth is I am just not ready.” Jean wondered if Gregory could tell that his argument was only half the reason. He really did miss the excitement of the race, the ease with which most of the players fell to his superior driving ability. But there was another reason, a 6’ 4”, dark blond, 39 year old reason.
    Gregory didn’t change his demure position, “Je comprends.” Jean could tell Gregory was less than pleased by the tone of his voice, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him from seeing Ricky Bobby again.


    “Susan!” Ricky Bobby yelled up the stairs to his lover, “What the hell is processed hamburger meat doing in the fridge? You know Karen only eats thinly sliced chicken breast! Cow meat upsets her stomach and I know you don’t want to be the one cleaning that mess up!”
    Susan finished wrapping her hair in a tight librarian-esque bun before walking to the top of the stairs. She stuck out her hip and cupped it with her hand, trying to look as sexily annoyed as possible. “Well I’m sorry Ricky, but all the chicken was about to go bad so I just decided...”
    “Susan,” Ricky Bobby looked incredulously at her, “She’s a fucking Cougar. She eats living animals. If she’s not afraid of Salmonella poisoning, I certainly don’t think moldy chicken is a big concern here!”
    Susan took her hand off her hip and with little regard to her sex appeal swaggered down the stairs. “You know what? Sometimes I think you care more about that cougar than me.”
    Ricky Bobby put his arm around her in a comforting manner. “What are you talking about? How can you say something like that?” She relaxed a little. “Just make sure you get chicken next time.”
    Susan pushed away, exasperated. “You know what? I’m tired of this. I’ve tried to make this work, but this just isn’t me. I don’t want to live in a house with a live cougar for a pet.”  Karen picked her head up, bared her teeth, and growled at Susan who jumped and backed around the side of the stairs hiding behind the banister as if it were a blockade.
    Ricky walked over to Karen and scratched her lightly behind the ears. “Yes sweetie, serves her right for calling you a pet.”
    “That’s it I’m out of here.” Susan turned and walked hastily from the house. When Karen began to follow her, she quickened her pace and slammed the door behind her. Ricky quickly followed her outside.
    “So is this us breaking up?”


    “Ricky,” Lucius Washington ran up to Ricky Bobby the second he saw him enter the garage. “Has anyone told you yet?”
    Ricky cocked an eyebrow, “Told me what?”
    Lucius sighed heavily. “Listen Ricky, Jean Girard…”
    Ricky Bobby, who had only been half interested in what Lucius felt was so important, immediately snapped to attention when he heard that name. “What about him?”
    “He’s back.”


    Gregory had refused, for the first time ever, to come and watch Jean race. Jean hadn’t really been too disappointed. Gregory never liked the racing anyway, he preferred his dogs to sports.
    Jean looked around at the now familiar race track. The smell of grease and gas and oil was thick in the air as he watched the stadium seats slowly begin to fill. He heard footsteps hurrying towards him. He turned in their direction. There he was, striding sexily towards him, Ricky Bobby. Jean froze. His heart began to beat very quickly and he could feel blood pounding in his ears. He suddenly felt very uneasy, as if coming back had been the wrong idea.
    “Hey, what the hell are you doing here?”
    Jean was speechless.
    “What’s wrong with you? Too much peanut butter in your mouth?”
    At Ricky’s sarcastic allusion to his accent, Jean managed to find his voice. “Ah, Ricky Bobby.”
    “Ah, Jean Girard,” said Ricky Bobby poorly mimicking Jean’s French accent. “Vat the heeell ar yoooou doingk heeere?”
    Jean Girard cocked his head, genuinely confused. “I have no idea what you just said.
    “Come on man, I was speaking French.”
    “You were speaking mental retardation.”
    It was at that moment that Cal came up behind Ricky. “Hey fighting chicken.” His eyes fell on Jean. “What the hell is he doing here?”
    “What is this fighting chicken as he calls you?”
    “It’s El Diablo to you Frenchie, and if you don’t tell me why you’re here right now I swear I’ll—”
    “Kiss me.”
    Both Ricky Bobby and Cal froze. He continued, “Kiss me and I’ll tell you why I came back.” He cocked his head to the side playfully and puckered his lips as he had the first time he had propositioned Ricky.
    But before any answer could be made, Lucius came up behind them and called Ricky back to prepare for the race.
    “See you on the track… America.”
    It took Ricky a second to fully understand Jean’s comment, and when he did he blushed a deep red. He tried to turn so that Jean couldn’t see, but the tomato coloring of Ricky’s ears gave his reaction away.
    Jean grinned from ear to ear and began to walk towards his own pit crew who had been anxiously motioning for him to get ready for the past five minutes.


    “This has to have been the worst day of my life.” Ricky Bobby continued nursing his 8th beer while Cal sat sympathetically next to him.
    “Worse than the day I slept with your wife and kicked you out of your house?”
    “Cal, with all due respect, you suck as a friend.”
    “Come on, Ricky, what happened today that was so bad… other than being beaten by Girard… again.”
    “Susan and I broke up.”
    “What? What happened?”
    “I have no idea. One minute everything’s fine and the next thing she’s accusing me of bestiality and storming out of the house.”
    “What’s bestiality?”
    Ricky looked disbelievingly at his friend for a moment, “Never mind.” He got up and staggered drunkenly out of the bar. He started to walk towards his car, stumbling over his feet every few steps when suddenly a pair of hands pushed him back roughly and he recognized hazily that he was surrounded by three men.
    “Hey man,” the biggest one said, “Got any spare cash on ya?”
    Ricky dizzily tried to push past them, but it was no use. One of them pushed him to the ground and he could feel the thin cold blade of a knife against his throat. “I wouldn’t try that again if I were—” from somewhere behind him someone cocked a shotgun.
    “Hey, what the fuck?”
    “I suggest you boys go home or else I will be forced to as you say in America, do you.” Ricky Bobby managed to discern that his savior had a French accent.
    “What?” the biggest thug asked.
    “I said, I’ll do you.”
    “I don’t—do you mean do you in?”
    “Ok fine, yes, I’ll do you in.” And to accent his point he fired a shot into the brick wall nearest the big guys head. It blew apart the brick as if it were tissue paper. With that incentive the three took off running and Ricky’s rescuer approached him. “Are you alright?” he asked with genuine concern.
    “Wait a second… Girard? Is that you?”
    He smiled, “Yes, Monsieur Bobby, it is I.”
    “Oh no.” Ricky Bobby struggled to stand up. “I don’t want your help.” He swayed dangerously on his feet.
    Jean Girard smoothly moved next to Ricky Bobby and put Ricky’s arm around his shoulders. “Well, whether or not you want my help, I don’t think you are in any condition to refuse me. Come now, I will take you home.”
    Ricky Bobby considered protesting, but Jean had already led him to his lavender BMW.
    Ricky Bobby eyed the color of the car, “Lavender?”
    Jean smiled and said nothing. His chauffer opened the back passenger side door for him and then helped him get Ricky into the car.
    As soon as he was comfortable Ricky began to realize how tired he was. His head swayed back and forth uncomfortably as the car went around corners.
    “You can put your head on my shoulder if you want.”
    Ricky Bobby was about to refuse when the car went around a particularly sharp turn and Ricky’s wobbling head struck the window. He decided it was in his best interest to comply.
    Jean’s Perrier jacket was cool and soft and extremely comfortable. “Just because I have my head on your shoulder doesn’t mean I’m gay you know.”


    Jean grinned to himself. Maybe not yet.
    “So, why were you at the bar?” Ricky asked sleepily.
    “I was looking for you.”
    Had he been more conscious Ricky Bobby would probably have wondered about that, but instead, “That’s nice.” He yawned deeply. “Do you always carry a shotgun around with you?”
    “A sawed off shotgun to be exact, and yes I do. It was a gift from my first boyfriend.”
    Ricky yawned again. “I’m so tired… must be… from… all the gayness.” He could barely finish his sentences now. He could soon here Ricky’s breathing change and he knew he was asleep. Jean raised the window between him and his driver, Pierre, so that he was completely alone with Ricky. Praying silently to grown up Jesus he slid his arm up Ricky’s back in order to sit with his arm around him. For the first time in a long time he felt as if he were a young school boy on his first date.


    When they got to Ricky Bobby’s home it was clear he and Pierre were going to have to help Ricky inside. Jean shook Ricky awake, “Come on, we’re home.”
    “That’s nice,” said Ricky sleepily.
    Jean and Pierre practically carried Ricky to his front door. Jean knocked loudly. “Kids at Grandma’s… no one home.” Jean fished the keys from Ricky’s pocket, perhaps taking a little longer in searching Ricky’s pants than was entirely proper, but Pierre didn’t notice. Jean let them in.
    Pierre laid Ricky roughly on his bed and then headed back outside and to the car. He noticed Jean was not following him.
    “Monsieur Girard?”
    “Allez à la maison. Je resterai ici ce soir.” Pierre raised an eyebrow at his employer’s decision, but he wasn’t paid to question and so he left.
    Jean knew he had made a terrible decision. Gregory would be furious that Jean chose not to come home, but Jean couldn’t help but feel content at his decision. He stood next to Ricky’s sleeping body. He reached underneath him for the blankets and proceeded to tuck his rival in. Despite the disturbance Jean was making Ricky remained dead asleep. This gave Jean some confidence. As Ricky snuggled up warm under his blankets, Jean bent over him and kissed him lightly on the lips. He could feel the effect Ricky’s lips had on him immediately. Desire shot through his body and it was all he could do to restrain himself from kissing him again, and in a way that would most surely wake him, no matter how drunk he was.
    Jean was leaving the room, but he stood by the door a moment. He switched off the light and whispered into the dark. “I think I’m in love with you.”


    Ricky woke up the next morning with a headache so terrible it felt as if he had been smashed in the face with a sledgehammer. He should never have had so much alcohol. Wait a second… How did I get home? And who the hell tucked me in?
    Ricky got up slowly, though every move he made caused pain to radiate through his brain until he felt as if he could black-out. He ran to the bathroom. Nausea overcame him in a wave and he vomited several times into the toilet.
    After that he felt much better, even his headache began to dissipate. He walked towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing a pop tart and some PowerAde for breakfast when he heard someone whistling in his kitchen. He froze. He looked around for a weapon, but the only thing remotely weapon-like was a sharp cornered picture frame containing a picture of Karen lounging on the beach with a number of beach goers cowering in fear off in the distance.
    He approached the kitchen with the picture raised high over his head. “Listen, whoever you are, I think you should know that there is a live cougar in this house and that she may attack at any second. You should leave immediately.”
    He jumped kung-fu style into the kitchen with the picture frame raised in one hand and the other free and waving around karate chopping the air. His tall, slender, black haired intruder turned around with a frying pan in one hand and a large ladle in the other.
    “Good Morning Ricky,” Jean said cheerfully.
    Ricky was more shocked by Jean being in his kitchen than he had been when he had heard an intruder initially.
    “Were you planning to defend yourself with that picture of a cougar? No wonder I had to come to your rescue last night.”
    “Now hold on just a min—” But Jean didn’t want to argue with him.
    “I made you breakfast.”
    “You—what?” Jean handed him a plate with a pancake face with bacon in the shape of a smile and two eggs over-easy serving as the eyes. Ricky couldn’t help but feel touched. Neither Carley nor Susan had ever cooked him anything. In fact, Ricky couldn’t remember the last time he had had something that wasn’t considered fast food.
    Ricky looked his breakfast which grinned unceasingly back at him. He thought the pancake face was the cutest thing he had ever seen, but he wasn’t about to let Jean know he was pleased. “Jean I’m going to be honest with you, this is the gayest meal I’ve ever seen.”
    Jean stepped away from the stove and made a flamboyant bow. “Your welcome.”
    Ricky smiled and was about to laugh, but he caught himself and pretended to be annoyed at Jean. “So why exactly are you here?”
    “Well, Ricky Bobby, it is obvious that you can not take care of yourself and as there was no one home to do so, I assumed the responsibility.”
    Ricky wasn’t sure how to take that. Ricky took a mouthful of eggs and pancake. They were the most delicious things he had ever tasted. This must be why people cook for themselves. Ricky saw Jean watching him for his reaction. “Not bad. I mean it’s not McDonald’s but it’s decent.” Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t seen Karen all morning. “Jean have you seen Karen?”
    “Karen?”
    “She’s a cougar.”
    “Ah, Oui.” Jean smiled enthusiastically. “She’s over here.” Ricky Bobby walked over to Jean Girard and found Karen laying contentedly at his feet, licking up the pancake batter that dripped from the ladle. Ricky was dumbfounded. Karen had never taken to anyone, including himself, as quickly as this.
    Standing so close to Jean, Ricky noticed that he was wearing one of Carley’s aprons. She always wore it while she was ordering dinner. Ricky looked at how it fit on Jean. It was tied tight around the waist and he had to admit that fit rather—
    Oh my God! Oh little baby Jesus please tell me what hell demon has possessed me to think of him like that.
    Jean noticed Ricky’s sudden distress, “Is everything alright?”
    Ricky turned around and quickly walked back to his seat. He ate the rest of Jean’s breakfast in silence. Jean, assuming he had done something wrong, excused himself and left.


    “Vous n'êtes pas venu à la maison la nuit passée.” Gregory was sitting in the living room waiting for Jean when he finally arrived home. He had expected such a greeting.
    “I was—”
    “Pierre told me.” Jean was slightly taken aback. At home Gregory never spoke in English. He hated America and most of all Ricky Bobby. He considered speaking English an insult, so to be speaking to Jean in English, Gregory meant it as an insult.
    “I was trying—”
    “I don’t care.” Gregory’s voice was dangerously calm. “Are you going to race today?”
    Jean braced himself, “Gregory, you know that I—”
    “Get out.” His voice was still deadly calm.
    “Gregory?”
    “I mean it. Don’t come back. I want a divorce Jean. You and I both know that this marriage has been over for a long time now.”
    Jean knew in his heart this was true. It had been over from the moment Ricky Bobby had kissed him. “Greg—”
    “Get OUT!” he screamed. Jean did.


    Ricky paced back and forth. What had gotten in to him? A little breakfast and looking sexy in an apron and now all Ricky could think about was Jean. He constantly worried over his reaction to seeing Jean this morning. More disturbing to him was that he found the whole morning, in general, to have been a pleasant experience. He found he liked home-cooked meals. He liked having someone say good morning to him rather than sleeping late because marriage to him meant no need to work. And worst of all, Jean seemed to have, brought something with him which brightened the house in a way no woman he had ever been with had been able to, and now that he was gone there was a palpable emptiness where that something had been.
    Deciding that rather than pondering the issuing, he should keep busy to keep from thinking too much. Thinking, after all, had never been his strong point.


    Jean sat alone in one of the stadium chairs watching the preparations for the race with detachment. He had known Gregory would be angry with him, but he had had no idea that the consequences of his actions were going to be so severe.
    Still, he couldn’t say he was heart-broken. He had never really lost his heart to Gregory. Really he had loved his willingness to bend to his will rather than love the man himself. It had been a hollow shell of a marriage and they both knew it, but they had been happy for a time.
    But he had lost his heart to Ricky Bobby. Though the relationship was still one sided, Jean felt love in a much more powerful way than he had with Gregory. And, ironic as it seems, he loved Ricky Bobby for his willfulness, for his obstinacy in doing things his way. But more than that, it was the way Ricky Bobby could make him smile without meaning to.
    No, he wasn’t heart-broken that his relationship with Gregory was over. He was however, heartsick over what to do about having fallen in love with his (almost certainly) heterosexual archrival.


    “Are you ok Ricky?”
    Ricky Bobby looked out at Lucius from the window of the car. “What? What do you mean?” he answered just a tad too quickly.
    Lucius shrugged his shoulders, “It’s just that you seem a little distracted.”
    “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m ready to go.” He gripped the steering wheel to accent his point.
    “Well, it’s just… that’s not your car.”
    “Wha—” he noticed the unfamiliar coloring of the side of the car. Ricky’s face flushed red. “I’m sorry.”
    “No problem,” he paused. “Just make sure you’re together for the race.”
    Ricky quickly got out of the car before its rightful owner discovered his mistake. Come on Ricky, pull yourself together.
    “Did you hear about Jean.”
    Ricky froze when he heard the name. Did Lucius know? “I… don’t think so…”
    “His husband left him.” Ricky’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, apparently they had this big fight about it this morning. It’s all anyone can talk about around here. Supposedly, the fight was regarding Jean spending the night with another man.”
    Ricky went white as a ghost.
    “Ricky, are you alright?”
    “Yeah I’m fine! What are we desperate housewives? We gonna stand here gossiping all day or are we gonna race!” Ricky turned and hurried off.
    Lucius raised a suspicious eyebrow.


    It was the 245 lap and Ricky Bobby was in fifth place. That wasn’t like him at all. Cal knew that with 5 laps left Ricky would normally be engaging the sling shot in an effort to give Jean Girard a run for his money, but Ricky didn’t seem to have his heart in his driving like he normally did.
    Cal pulled back the car so that he was neck and neck with Ricky.
    “You alright?”
    “Yes I’m alright! Will everyone stop asking me that!?”
    “Sorry, you just seem a little distracted.”
    “I am not distracted!”
    “Whatever you say,” and he pulled away from his friend and back into second place.


    “I think I figured it out.” Cal sat down heavily next to Ricky as he sat lost in thought at the bar counter.
    “Figured what out?” Ricky said in a voice which expressed his lack of interest.
    “You’re in love.”
    The beer in Ricky’s hand fell to the floor and shattered.
    Cal smiled triumphantly at Ricky’s reaction. “I think I proved my point.”
    “What did you just say?” Ricky stared incredulously at his friend.
    “You’re in love. Don’t worry, I won’t go spreading it around or anything. When you two love birds are ready to let the cat out of the bag, well that’s your own business and I won’t interfere. But… at least tell me her name.”
    “Cal, with all due respect, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh come on, I’m not stupid. You’ve been day dreaming about her all day. I’ll tell you though; you must have fallen pretty hard for this girl. Your being with Carley and Susan never affected your driving like this.”
    “Cal, you’re way off base. I am not in love with him.”
    “Wha—him?”
    Ricky blanched. “Anyone, I meant anyone. Heh, heh. It’s the beer.” He laughed uncomfortably, trying to ease Cal’s suspicions over the slip he had just made. Oh dear baby Lord, where the hell did THAT come from.
    Cal, oblivious as always, just laughed, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” and nudged him suggestively with his elbow.
    Ricky’s face turned red, “Lady? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am not gay!” He stormed out of the bar leaving Cal with the most confused look on his face.
    “It was just a quote…”


    Ricky stormed out of the bar in such an embarrassed fury tat he ran head on into a man leaning against the brick wall of the outside of the bar.
    “I’m sorry.” Ricky mumbled brushing past.
    “Excusé moi.” Said a familiar French voice.
    Ricky’s heart pumped harder. “YOU!” Jean Girard looked taken aback. This was certainly not the response he had expected. “I just can’t get away from you can I! Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”
    Jean Girard hung his head a little, more hurt by Ricky’s words than he had been by Gregory’s that morning. “At this point, No… I have nowhere else to go.” Then he walked away.
    Ricky Bobby slammed his head against his forehead. How could he be so insensitive. What has gotten into me? He jogged to catch up with the fleeing Frenchman. “I am so so sorry. I was completely out of line. I’ve just been a little… confused lately, but that’s still no excuse.” Jean Girard stopped walking but did not speak and did not look Ricky in the eye. “Listen, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”
    Jean shook his head. He hadn’t really thought about it. Ricky Bobby sighed and continued, “Well, I guess you could stay with me if you want to.”


    Jean looked up, in complete and utter shock at Ricky’s proposal. That was most definitely the last thing he had expected Ricky Bobby to say to him. He found he was speechless. His blood was beginning to pound in his ears. Maybe just maybe there’s a chance…
    “I have one request though.”
    Anything. “And what is that?”
    Ricky Bobby blushed a little as he asked, “Will you cook me breakfast again?”
    Ricky looked so adorable. He couldn’t help himself. Before he realized what he was doing Jean had thrown his arms around Ricky and was holding him close in a tight hug.
    Though Ricky was surprised at first by Jean’s close proximity he quickly decided he might as well return the hug. After all, once you’ve made out with a man it’s a little difficult to claim you have issues with him touching you. He allowed his own arms to encircle Jean’s shoulders.
    They were cheek to cheek and Ricky could feel Jean’s five-o’clock shadow against his cheek. Jean’s breath was cool and light on his neck. He could feel his shaggy hair against his skin and he could feel how their stomachs were—Holy Shit! He pushed Jean away perhaps a little too roughly. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! He could feel his pants tightening.
    “Alright you go get your car and you can follow me back to my house.”
    “Actually, I took a cab. Do you think you could give me a ride?”
    Ricky shifted uncomfortably and tried to pull his jacket down lower. “Uh… sure.” This was not good. He was going to be sitting in a car with Jean for twenty minutes. That in itself wouldn’t have been a problem, but with his troublesome erection he now had to worry about hiding. And just how had that problem come about anyway. He and Cal had hugged countless times. Hell, he had frenched Frenchie and… nothing. And now all of a sudden a little close personal contact and he’s feeling… turned on?


    He couldn’t sleep. Ricky tossed and turned. His heart was pounding so loudly it was a wonder Jean couldn’t hear it in the guest room. Why the hell did I do this to myself? Why did I invite him to stay here? He had no answer he could give himself.
    Cal’s words kept running through his mind. ‘You’re in love’ A few days ago he would have had no question that Cal was mistaken, but now… now all he could think about was how good it felt to have Jean’s arms around him, about how his heart had fluttered, in a good way, when he had discovered Jean cooking breakfast for him, and about how deep down he was glad that Jean was sleeping in the room just next to his.
    “Alright FINE!” he said aloud. “I admit it alright! I like him.”
    He turned over on his side and whispered to the wall he shared with the guest room. “I think I love him…”
    And with that he finally was able to fall asleep.


    Jean shook the frying pan to keep the bacon from burning. He smiled when an especially well cooked slice fell out of the pan and right into Karen’s waiting mouth. She chewed it noisily with a smacking sort of noise. Jean scratched her affectionately behind the ears and she nipped playfully at his fingers. He sighed, “If only your owner was this affectionate.”
    He heard the soft padding of bare feet as they walked down the hall and towards the kitchen. Ricky Bobby walked through the door, stretching his arms over head and yawning. Jean’s jaw dropped when he discovered that Ricky Bobby had slept in nothing but his American Flag boxers. They were loose, but not very long and really left almost nothing to the imagination. Jean blushed a little and averted his eyes. It wasn’t that he had never seen a man so close to being naked before. In fact, he had seen Ricky Bobby that close to being naked before, but he hadn’t been in love with him then.
    He managed to overcome his sudden shyness and he really looked at Ricky for the first time. He had his head bent over the French toast Jean had made for him. He looked so lost in thought. He seemed oblivious to Jean’s blatant staring. He just hoped it wasn’t because he was second guessing his decision to let him stay with him.


    Jean was wearing the apron again. He tried to keep his mind of the way it hung loosely over his hips but fit so nicely in the waist. He couldn’t look at him and not be reminded of what he had admitted the night before. He knew how he felt, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He had never… felt anything, for a man before. So he just stared at his food until the silence became unbearable and Jean left the room.
    Ricky sighed in relief. He was going to have to do something very soon. This thing was getting out of hand. He put his head in his hands and brushed his fingers through his short tightly curled hair. What am I gonna do?
    Suddenly his ears were assaulted by a blast of trumpets and saxophones. It sounded as if someone had shot two cats and a bear and they were all moaning in something like harmony. He covered his ears and rushed to find the source of the disturbance. He found Jean in the living room sitting in the easy chair and blasting jazz music from the huge grey C.D. player Ricky had bought for parties.
    “Turn that off!”
    Jean just sat there with his eyes closed moving his fingers in time to the music. Ricky searched frantically for the remote to turn off the damn thing when Jean Girard held it up, opened his eyes and grinned widely at Ricky Bobby.
    “Dance with me and I’ll turn it off.”
    “What?” Ricky was completely taken aback. This was definitely not how he saw this morning unfolding. “No, I will never dance with you!”
    With a flick of his wrist Jean raised the volume to twice what it had been. Ricky held his ears, almost expecting them to start bleeding. “Alright!” He screamed over the music.
    Jean turned the music down a little, “What? I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that.”
    Ricky Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Jean Girard, I would love to dance with you.”
    He smirked, “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”
    “But I’m not doing any slow dancing.”
    “Ricky, Ricky, jazz was not meant for slow dancing.” He took Ricky’s hand in his, “but I get to lead.” With years of experience and the element of surprise he managed to effortlessly spin Ricky Bobby into his arms. They held that pose for what seemed like minutes but was really only seconds and cradled as he was in Jean’s arms with Jean’s wide brown eyes boring steadily into his, he could feel heat rising in him again. His face flushed a little and Jean’s smile widened.
    Though it was obvious Ricky Bobby had never danced to jazz in his life, Jean’s flawless expertise managed to overshadow Ricky’s inability and the two danced quite easily together up and down Ricky’s living room floor.
    Ricky even found himself enjoying the experience. He was smiling from ear to ear by the end of the second song. Jean twirled him into a dramatic dip and as he pulled him up their faces were within inches of each other. Both of them stopped moving. The music played on, but the two of them couldn’t hear it any longer, loud as it was. Suddenly, Ricky felt Jean’s lips on his. The kiss wasn’t fiery or passionate, but rather shy and beautifully simple. At first, Ricky was shocked but then, before he had any time to check his emotions he had wrapped his own arms around Jean’s neck and head holding him in place and making it impossible to break the kiss. He felt excitement pounding through his body, yet seeming to focus its attention on his heart and groin.
    It wasn’t until Jean licked his bottom lip, requesting that they deepen the kiss, that Ricky Bobby regained control of his body. He pushed away suddenly. “I’m sorry I can’t do this.” He couldn’t look Jean in the eye as he walked quickly for the door.
    “I love you.” Jean whispered, too softly for Ricky Bobby to hear.


    “What’s eatin’ you?” Cal patted his friend on the back in a friendly manner.
    Ricky thought a minute as if he were considering not answering at all. “Cal, what if I told you, you were right about me being in love.”
    “I’d say told you so.”
    “No wait I’m not finished. You see, I think I am in love, but I don’t know that I want to be in love.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Well… it’s wrong first of all.”
    “What are you talking about? It’s never wrong to love someone. You’re talking about being in love like you should have some say in the matter.”
    “Cal… that may be the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
    Cal ignored Ricky’s interruption, “Have you told Jean yet?”
    “No I—Wait what? What are you talking about?” He said in an obviously defensive tone.
    “Come on Ricky, I may be slow but I’m not stupid. Took me a couple of days to piece it all together…”
    Ricky sighed in defeat, “No, I haven’t told him.”
    “Well what the hell are you waiting for?”
    “But he’s a—”
    “You know what I think? I don’t think this has anything to do with him being a man. I think you can’t deal with this ‘cause you’re scared.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me, scared. You’ve never had to deal with being in love because you’ve always had people throwing themselves at you because they loved what they thought you were. Now you have someone who loves you for who you actually are. And I think that scares you because you’ve screwed up on all your other relationships and you know you couldn’t bear to screw up this one.”
    Ricky tried to contradict him, but he realized that everything he was saying was absolutely true. “Oh my dear sweet infant Lord… you’re right. But what do I do now?”
    “Hey Ricky, Cal.” It was Lucius, he had come up behind them while they were talking. “Have either of you seen Girard?”
    “What? Why isn’t he here?”
    “His team says he didn’t show up today. They’ve been trying to get in touch with him but they haven’t been able to yet. Just wondering if you’d seen him. I’ll go finish prepping the car. Ricky we’ll need you over there in five minutes.”
    Ricky nodded numbly as he stared blankly into the air. Where could he be? What could have happened? Whatever had happened Ricky knew that it was likely his fault.
    “Where could he have gone?” Ricky asked aloud, more to himself than to Cal.
    “Go and find out.”
    “What? But the race—”
    “Listen, you have to decide which is more important to you.” He paused, “Whatever you decide, I’m still your best friend.” And with that he left.


    Jean sat on the cold hard cement floor of the utility closet. He had his head placed comfortably on his knees as he sat and went over in his head over and over again everything that had happened and torturing himself with the final outcome. He would give anything to learn the way to Ricky Bobby’s heart, but he feared that it was hopeless.
    He had come to the decision that the next time he saw Ricky he would tell him that he loved him. If he was flat out rejected at least, after awhile, he could begin to move on. If he wasn’t rejected… if Ricky loved him too… well he didn’t know what he would do.
    The hinges on the utility closet door creaked as the door slowly opened. The tall figure strode cautiously in, as if he were checking to make sure there was nobody in there. Jean looked up. It was Ricky Bobby.
    He opened his mouth to speak, but Jean beat him to it. “Listen, before you say anything there is something I must get off my chest.” He paused, took a deep breath, “I love you.”
    Ricky stood frozen in place by Jean’s words. Jean hung his head, anticipating the rejection and steeling himself for his first taste of true heartbreak. He could hear Ricky stride quickly towards him. He only had a moment to wonder what he could be doing before Ricky pushed him against one of the weak metal shelves that lined the large closet. He looked him dead in the eyes, “I love you too.”
    Jean didn’t even have time to realize the full import of Ricky’s words before Ricky was kissing him with a fiery passion that Jean never thought he would be the object of. Without a thought Jean gripped the back of Ricky’s jacket, just as he had done at the Talladega Race a few months ago. Ricky had slid his arms around Jean’s head and back and was holding him just as tight. They were at each other with such force that several cleaning products from the top shelves fell to the ground and exploded in a burst of powder or a brief fountain of thick goopy liquid.
    When they finally broke apart they were both breathless and Jean’s lips were slightly swollen. They both knew they weren’t finished with the other, but they both silently agreed that a utility closet with a floor covered in dangerous chemicals was probably not the best place.


    They emerged together from the inner bowls of the stadium just in time to see Cal take the race. Ricky and Jean walked to the winners circle together where Ricky attempted to call his congratulations to Cal over the roar of the mob surrounding the platform. Cal seemed to sense his friend’s presence and he looked over to where Ricky was standing with his hand in Jean’s. Cal winked at the two of them and then went back to celebrating his victory.
    Jean looked confusedly at Ricky, “Cal knows?”
    Ricky smiled lovingly at him, “Yes, apparently it’s been obvious we were in love with each other for quite some time.”
    Jean grinned, “I wish someone had clued you in on that fun fact a little sooner.” Ricky pushed him away playfully, but Jean grabbed onto the front of Ricky’s jacket and pulled him along with him and into another of his simple kisses.
    Lucius, who had been standing on the winner’s platform with Cal, stared incredulously at his driver. “Oh my God, Cal, Ricky’s gay?”
    Cal chuckled, “God, Lucius, where have you been.”


    6 months later

    The full moon was shining brightly through Ricky’s open window. Jean stood looking out at it. The streets were empty again, but this time he saw the romantic silence of it, rather than the loneliness. He turned to look at Ricky who had turned over on his side and seemed to have his hand hanging down over the side of the bed.
    He had never been so overwhelmingly happy in his entire life. Sure not a day went by where they didn’t fight about one thing or another, but that was the way they were. They were two dominant and stubborn people who happened to fall in love with each other and were usually willing to come to a compromise because of it. They still argued though, it was much more fun and interesting than getting along all the time. And the make-up sex wasn’t anything to complain about.
    He heard Ricky yawn from the bed, “And where do you think you’re going. I’m not done with you yet.” Jean smiled broadly and slipped back into bed. Ricky seemed to be thinking deeply about something, but before Jean could ask what was the matter Ricky began to speak. “Listen, the only way I know how to do this is the old fashioned way, so here it goes and don’t go telling me I’m doing it wrong.” He held up his left hand which had until this moment been hidden down the side of the bed. In his fist there was a little black box. He handed it to Jean.
    “Jean, will you marry me?”
    Inside the box was a gold wedding band with tiny diamonds and emeralds imbedded in two intertwining lines which wrapped around the entire ring. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
    “But Ricky, I thought you couldn’t get married here?”
    “So we’ll move to France for awhile. We have the money, and you’re worth it.” Jean felt a wave of ecstasy sweep over his body. “So, whadda ya say?”
    Jean smiled mischievously and slid under the covers to the point where only his eyes were visable. He winked and said, “Persuade me.”
This Talladega Nights fanfiction takes place a few months after the movie takes place. Jean decides to return to racing. He finds he misses the excitement and something else a little more interesting. Gregory isn't happy and neither is Ricky Bobby... at least at first.
Pairing: Jean/Ricky
Word Count: 7,323 (it's long I know... but don't be daunted... please read it)
Rating: T for language and several sexual references
Critiques: Encouraged
© 2006 - 2024 ThePhantomFactor
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thefierydeath's avatar
I don't know why, I just really enjoy this slash couple