“Adate?” I don’t miss the way his tone immediately shifts from playful to intense.
Watching his face, I can’t tell what exactly about this is bothering him, but the whole mood of the room just changed. He pulls his outstretched leg back and puts it on the floor, sitting up and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There’s tension in all the muscles of his arms and back, so much that I can see the definition through the soft cotton t-shirt he’s wearing.
When he suddenly straightens his back and turns back to face me again, his expression is cold.
“No. Absolutely not. It’s not safe.”
I swear my eyes double in size and I wonder if I’m hearing things.
“Um… There seems to be a miscommunication here. Tadhg, I was asking if you’re going to be alright to be home alone for a few hours. I wasn’t asking for yourpermission.”
He fists his hands and relaxes them over and over a few times, flicking his gaze between me and the ground. I can practically see the anxiety crawling into him, and normally Iwould prioritize making him feel more relaxed, but not when he’s treating me like a child.
“Who is he? How do you know him? Where would you go? There’s no way this is safe. He could do anything to you. Or worse, the Aryan Brotherhood could come looking for me and find you instead, and I won’t be there to protect you. This is un-fucking-acceptable, Bambi. I said no.”
There was a waver of uncertainty in his voice at first, but by the end of his little speech, he’s completely solid and sounds so much like Patrick during one of his commanding rants that it’s making me feel a little nauseous.
Part of me realizes that this is a regurgitated reaction from spending too much time with his father. But I can’t control my own anger. He’s so fucking out of pocket here, and I can’t even think of why.
“Look, I’m sorry I won’t be at your beck and call for the evening, but I don’t see what your problem is. I go to work without you, and no one attacks me there. You sound completely paranoid right now.” I look at him more closely and try to see beneath the hard outer shell to figure out what’s causing all this anger. Is it homophobia? Or something else entirely that I’m missing?
I take a deep breath in and let it out, forcing myself to relax, despite the anger that’s wrestling for control of my brain right now.
“What’s wrong, Tadhg? Why is this bothering you so much?” I ask softly.
For a split second, his face twitches and I think he might tell me the truth. But then the hint of vulnerability is gone.
Tadhg stands, his fists clenched and his shoulders up around his ears. He turns to face me, pointing at me and looming over me in a way that’s more intimidating than I want to admit.
Not only does it give me flashbacks to my childhood with Patrick, but it reminds me of something I’d forgotten. That this isn’t just my stepbrother. This is my brother in the shell of an angry, violent criminal, and I need to keep working to dig him out.
But I’m also not going to roll over and tolerate whatever bullshit toxic behavior he wants to throw at me. Not in my own home. Not when I’ve been cleaning up his piss and puke and kissing his booboos and holding him while he fell apart for a few weeks. I deserve a little more respect than this.
“It’s bothering me that I’m working hard to keep you safe, and you’re willing to throw it all away just so you can get laid. I heard that gay guys were loose, but I didn’t realize my own brother was this much of a desperate slut. Can’t you go a couple weeks without spreading your legs, or is some loser’s dick worth dying over?”
His hand is shaking as he points it at me, and a flush of rage is climbing up his neck. But any chance I had at containing my own anger went out the window when he called me a slut.
Springing from the couch, I shove him with both hands a lot harder than I should. I’m smaller than him, but I still make him rock back a few steps.
It doesn’t make me feel any better.
“How dare you call me names in my house. Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to take care of you? And you want to stand here throwing homophobic shit at me? You sound just like your father, by the way. I never thought I’d see the day you turned into that piece of shit.”
Tadhg crosses his arms, I think, to try to conceal how much his hands are shaking, and his face is going through a barrage of emotions. It was a shitty thing to say. But all my empathy is walled off behind my anger, along with how much he hurt me with the things he said.
“I said ‘no’. That’s final, Micah. You’re not going to slut around on my watch. Have a little self-respect and learn to get off your knees. I forbid it.”
My mouth is hanging open so wide I could catch flies. The bottom-shaming here is just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s catching my attention for whatever reason.
Of course he assumes I’m a bottom. Just like he asked me if I did drag. Because even if he hasn’t been sitting here calling me slurs all week, he still thinks less of me for who I am. He still assumes that I’m girly and weak and submissive, and that all of those things are inherently bad.
He can take every single one of those thoughts and throw them in the trash, obviously. But I don’t have the wherewithal to explain that to him right now. I’m too pissed, and I’m letting myself embrace the anger because it’s the only thing holding back the stinging pressure behind my eyes.
Cocking my hip, I sink into a much sassier, camp persona, because fuck him.
“You know, I was going to be nice and go back to his place to fuck, even though he stays with his mom when he’s in town, and it would mean we’d have to be quiet. But if you want to act like a spoiled brat, then you can put up with me bringing my big gay date back here and having as much loud, faggy sex as I want all overmyapartment. If you don’t want to hear it, I suggest you find somewhere else to be. Or you can stay here and fuck yourself. Be my guest. But I’m not dealing with your shit until you check your fucking attitude, Tadhg. Fuck you.”
I don’t let myself look at him while I grab my shit, including a change of clothes and my phone charger. I can change at Scott’s house; he’s seen me look worse. It was barely even going to be a date until Tadhg decided to start World War III over it like a brat.
