Bad Influence by K. A. Mitchell

out to the patio table. Which was abnormal when there was a nice air-conditioned kitchen right behind them.
    “Cook and eat. Outside. On purpose. Like ten thousand years of progress never happened,” Silver complained as he put the stack of stuff down. “Benjamin Franklin would totally curse you out.”
    “Look at you, all history-knowing. Wait until I tell Quinn.” Eli peeled a piece of hair off his face.
    “Don’t get excited. If a guy’s face is on money, I know who he is.”
    “Apparently, cooking outside is required for man points.” Eli tipped his head toward Silver and jerked his chin at the grill where Quinn and Jamie were standing.
    “And apparently,” Quinn said as he strode over, “someone went a little crazy in the outdoor living area of The Home Depot, and I said if we bought it, we were using it.” He draped an arm around Eli’s shoulders.
    “That was in March. When I had all these lustful feelings for spring. Now I’m over it. And hot.” He shoved Quinn’s arm away.
    “And cranky.” Quinn’s hand landed on Eli’s ass with a light tap and squeeze.
    Silver rolled his eyes. One look at Eli and it was obvious all of his protesting about suburbia was complete crap. He loved this setup, just as much as he loved having a Daddy. Everything about the way he carried out his tray full of burgers and ketchup and relish and cheese and buns and pickles and pasta salad showed how much he loved having a house—home to take care of for his man. Probably would have been perfectly content as a fifties housewife.
    Jamie stomped over, knocking back some of his Red Dog beer. “Be sure to stick to soda, kid. Wouldn’t want to have to bust Quinn for serving to someone underage.”
    “Wow. That was a dazzling example of wit. Did you spend all day thinking it up?” Silver grabbed Jamie’s beer and stole a sip. “Uh-oh. Now you’ll have to bust yourself.”
    “Hey.” Jamie snatched the bottle back and glared.
    Oh shit. Sometimes it was so easy to forget. Forget that Silver had something inside him that scared other people. Scared himself when he thought about it.
    Jamie glanced down at his beer then brought the bottle to his lips and knocked it back again. “Smart-assed kid.” He flicked a nail against Silver’s knuckle.
    Silver tried not to make his exhale audible. “Ow. Hey, isn’t that abusing someone underage?”
    “Yeah, nice try.”
    Quinn went back to the grill, and Eli carried over the plate of burgers. Nothing veggie, so Nate wasn’t coming, but even assuming Jamie and Quinn ate two each, there were too many.
    Silver sank into one of the chairs. “Where’s your better half? And I mean better in every sense of the word.”
    “Gavin,” Jamie said with emphasis as he sat opposite, “is not half of anything. We’re not joined at the hip. But he was invited, and he’ll be here after he takes care of some stuff.”
    “Uh-huh.” Silver couldn’t blame Gavin if he was already doing his best to avoid spending time around Jamie’s annoying ass. “So what do you call him then?”
    “Usually I call him Gavin. It being his name and all.” Jamie picked at his beer label.
    “He’s not your boyfriend?”
    “Why, you looking for a date?”
    “No.” And fuck no. But Jamie would probably think Silver was disrespecting Gavin if he said it aloud, and that was far from true. “Just asking. You’re kind of touchy about it.” This was the most fun Silver had had in weeks. “Did you ask him to marry you and he turned you down, gold digger?”
    “I liked you better when you were just some brat at the club who couldn’t give a decent blow job.” Jamie made a disgusted sound and swung out of the chair.
    When Gavin walked down the driveway a few minutes later, he greeted Jamie with a kiss. It went quick, but Silver could tell it would have been longer and deeper without the audience. He could always tell. Truth was in the body language, the way a couple became more than two guys standing near