panfandom whore (luceage) wrote in horseracingfic,
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I'M BAAAAAAACK!

You thought that this was never going to be continued, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU? You thought wrong. This is what happens when you’re supposed to be writing a paper on Plato.

Title: Very Bad Jockey Slash Fic 2, 2/?
Author: Luce
Disclaimer: OMG WTF GARY ISN’T GAY KTHXBAI. The others--well, I can’t say.
Pairings: Gary Stevens/Alex Solis, Corey Nakatani/David Flores
Rating: R for language
Genre: Humor, melodrama, angst
Warnings: If you’re still following this, I’d say you don’t need any warnings.
Summary: Who says that therapy is fun?



Part 2: I Love You Like A Lover

If there was one thing Gary hated more than someone slapping him on the ass with a spiked paddle, it was group therapy sessions. Or people who tried to decipher the inner workings of his mind in general.

“Can we stop for donuts?” Gary said brightly as he sighted a Krispy Kreme shop.

“Fuck, Gary, we just stopped to get McDonald’s fries for you. And before that, KFC chicken wings.” Alex tapped his fingers on the steering wheel nervously as the traffic light turned to red. “We can’t be late for the session.”

“If you love me, you’ll buy me donuts,” Gary snapped, then crossed his arms glared at Alex.

“What the shit kind of ultimatum is that?”

The tension between them was at an all-time high, even worse than the time Alex accidentally let it slip to the boys that Gary collected stuffed koalas.

Gary’s mouth tightened. “If you don’t buy me donuts right now, I’ll tell everyone that you wear thongs for men.”

Alex pulled into the donut shop parking lot.

*

Gary and Alex burst into the room at exactly 2:17, Gary clutching several greasy paper bags and Alex casting dark looks at his boyfriend.

“You’re late,” a woman said sharply, staring at them above her pince-nez.

“Yeah, well, don’t get your titties all in a twist.” Alex plopped down on one end of the couch next to Corey. Gary sat down gingerly on the other end next to David, who gave him a concerned look and patted his oily hands. Gary offered him a wavering smile.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” the woman said in a no-nonsense tone. “Welcome to your first group therapy session. My name is Janet, and I’m here to help you sort through your traumatic experience. Please, introduce yourselves by name and why you think you’re here.”

Awkward silence met her words.

David, ever the obliging peacemaker in a rose-pink cardigan, coughed politely. “My name is David Flores, and I’m here to come to terms with what happened and help my lover and friends too.”

Janet smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, David.”

“You’re welcome, Janet!” David beamed. Alex rolled his eyes and felt like being steamrollered by a dump truck.

“Um, I guess I’ll go next,” Gary said nervously. “My name is Gary Stevens, and I’m an alcoho--I mean, I’m a drug--I mean, uh, I almost got raped by my nephew who got run over by an ice cream truck and now I can’t let anyone touch me including my boyfriend who I haven’t had sex with in weeks.”

Alex dug his nails into the upholstery as David giggled shrilly in an attempt to fill the sudden quiet. A second passed as he failed miserably.

Gary smiled weakly. “Wow, this silence is thicker than day-old pancake batter.”

“Why don’t you go next, Alex?” Janet said quickly.

“My name is Alex Solis, and I don’t want to be in this fucking room with a fucking shrink talking about my goddamned awful experience with a crazy fuckhead who tried to molest my boyfriend.” He stared at the wall stonily.

“Right.” Janet wrote something in her notepad.

“Your turn, sweetie.” David smiled encouragingly at Corey, who nodded in return.

“My name is Corey Nakatani, and I have a problem.”

The window cleaner accidentally slammed into the glass with a loud thump.

“Fuck, Nakatani!” Alex swore as a spreading wetness touched his thigh.

“I didn’t mean to pee!” Corey sobbed, clinging to David, who was torn between throttling Alex and soothing his lover.

“It’s okay, sweetie, we know you didn’t mean to do it.” David reached for his purse next to him, but miscalculated the distance and grazed Gary’s thigh instead, sending the other man into screaming convulsions.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! NO, TYLER! ONLY ALEX GETS TO TOUCH MY PENIS AND NO ONE ELSE!”

“What the fuck did you do, Flores?” Alex shouted, rushing over to Gary’s side and hovering over him helplessly. His shadow fell over Gary, who panicked even more and lashed out with his fists.

“Ow, Christ!”

“I WANT MY MOMMY,” cried Corey into David’s shoulder.

“NO TOUCHY TOUCHY,” yelled Gary with his eyes clenched shut, still punching Alex in the balls.

Janet stared at the four men, speechless. Jesus, this group was a piece of work. Mikey wasn’t kidding when he said that they were in serious need of help.

A gleam suddenly entered her eyes. She would fix this messed-up group of mentally-challenged gay jockeys if it was the last thing she did. It would be the greatest achievement of her life. Clint Eastwood would be awed by her story and make an Oscar-winning movie about her amazing feat, and Nicole Kidman would bitchfight Julia Roberts for the honor of portraying her on the silver screen. She would be immortalized in history; oh God, she felt tears in her eyes at the thought.

“Talk to me about your devastating experience,” she said, voice infused with compassion. “I’m here to listen and help.”

*

“How’d the session go yesterday, guys?” Mike asked the next day in the jock’s room.

“Honey, you don’t want to know,” David said wearily.

It had ended rather abruptly when Alex had to go for last resort to calm Gary down: he stuffed his mouth with sugar packets, causing Gary to pass out from the glucose overload.

The stormy mood that hung over the jock’s room like a smelly piece of horse turd lifted slightly in the afternoon, mostly due to David’s cheering up. He was teaching a group of apprentices how to arrange flowers in a corner and sneaking in some worldly advice while he was at it.

“All jockeys are gay,” chirped David while artfully arranging a bouquet of lilies, “it’s just a matter of whose pants are tighter.”

“Really?” said one rapt apprentice, staring at David with undisguised awe.

“Oh yeah!” He pursed his lips as he added a sprig of baby’s breath. “ ‘A gay jockey among jockeys always wears a size too small,’ ” David quoted, misty-eyed. “A great jockey once told me that.”

“Wow,” the young teens breathed.

Meanwhile, Gary and Alex were on no better terms than they were previously. Gary felt miserable. The chasm that separated him from Alex was enormous, even bigger than the river he used to swim naked in as a boy.

Oh Alex, Gary thought sadly. I wish things could be the way they were before. He still remembered the happy memories, like the time they fed each other chocolate-covered strawberries and threw up together afterwards. He could still see the tender look on Alex’s face as he wiped away stray vomit on the other man’s chin.

Gary was jolted back into the present by the feel of someone near him. He tensed involuntarily, and couldn’t unfreeze his muscles even after he saw that it was Alex.

“Um, I just wanted to say that…I love you,” Alex said with injured eyes, and hurried out of the door to his race.

“I love you too,” whispered Gary to Alex’s retreating back. He punched his locker with a clenched fist and cursed Tyler Baze for ever being born.

Ignorant of his friend’s soul-destroying angst, David continued speaking to his rapt audience. “I like the violet pansies with the white chrysanthemums, myself,” he gushed, fussing with a wayward leaf. “That was my Aunt Jemima’s favorite combination. It’s just too fabulous!”

~TBC

Leave a little comment if you’re reading this; it always amuses me to know that someone out there enjoys the utter wrong that is this entire project.

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