IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS
By J.D. Rush

10:30 P.M.
LANGLY:
Man. . .that bed looks good.  I'm just so glad to be home.  It's
been a real crappy week, one I'll be more than happy to leave
way-y-y behind me.  I really should have gotten into my email--haven't had a chance to access it for four days--but all I want to do right now is sleep for about a week.  My favorite sleepwear was already on the bed and I'm just pulling off my dirty shirt when my bedroom door crashes open. . .and there *he* is.

"What's your problem?" he demands, getting right to the point,
like usual. 

Dammit!  I'm not in the mood for this right now.  I'm tired.  I 
want to go to bed.  The last thing I want to deal with is *him*. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answer, a bit 
petulantly. 

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," he responds. 
"You've been in a snit all week.  What gives?"

"Just forget it, okay, Frohike?" I say, tugging on my bedtime 
Tee.

He shrugs and slips his hands into the front pockets of his 
pants.  "I mean, okay, I know sticking your arm up some cow's backside is bound to make someone grumpy, but. . .."

Like he had to remind me.  "Look, I said forget it, all right?" 
I ask, nicely. 

"Or was it having to crawl up through that Porta-John?  Cause I know that wasn't a walk in the park, but. . .."

Now I'm done being nice.  "What part of 'just forget it' don't 
you understand?"

"You're still pissed about me pulling the plug on that video 
game, right?" he declares, smugly.  "I SAID I was sorry."

It's quite obvious he's not going to leave until I tell him, so I 
take him by the shoulders and shove him on the bed, noting with some satisfaction his shocked statement.  "Fine.  You wanna know what's bugging me?  I just can't believe you told Jimmy I was a virgin, okay?  Happy now?"

He lets out a sigh, and a laugh.  "Man, is THAT all?  I thought 
it was something important."

"Is THAT all?" I spit back, incredulously.  "Jesus, Frohike, you can be so clueless!  I told you that in strictest confidence."

"No, you told me that after too many Zimas," he corrects me.

"Oh, and that gives you the right to blab it to the whole world?"

"It wasn't the whole world," he counters.  "It was ONLY Jimmy."

"Yeah, and I'm sure he's told Byers by now, and heaven only knows how many other people."

He put up his hands in surrender.  "Hey, I didn't know it was 
some big government secret.  You know I didn't mean anything by it. . .."

"No, you only humiliated me in front of one of the guys.  Do you have any idea how much shit I'm gonna get from him on this one?"

"Pppttthh, right.  Like *JIMMY* gets laid on a regular basis," he retorts.

"I'm just glad Yves wasn't around when you said it--she'd have never let me live it down."

"Well, as long as we deactivated all the bugs that she planted 
around this place," he muses, thoughtfully.

Fuck!  I had forgotten about those.  This was getting even more depressing.  "Look, I said just forget it. . .*I'm* trying to. Now, if you'd please leave, I want to get ready for bed."

But instead of leaving, he just sits there staring at me, with 
that 'concerned fatherly' look he gets sometimes.  He mostly 
directs it at Byers, but he has it going full blast at the moment.  "Jeepers, Langly--I had no idea this bothered you so much."

I just shrug and look away.  "Yeah, well. . .there's a lot you 
don't know about me."

"You know, if it's that much of a big deal, I can probably help 
you out."

Something niggling tells me I don't want to know what he means by that statement.  "What are you blathering about?"

"Well, I know some 'accommodating' ladies in town.  I'm sure we can find one that will fit the bill and voila--instant non-virgin!" he announces, proudly. 

I can't help rolling my eyes.  "Accommodating?  You mean hookers, right?"

"The term is elite female escorts," he enlightens me. 

"Whatever you call them. . .I'm not interested."

"C'mon, Ringo--what's the problem?  Some of them are real nice girls."

"That's not the point, Frohike. I'm not interested in girls. . . 
nice or otherwise."

"You just haven't met the right one yet," he insists.

My patience is now at an end.  "Let me spell it out for you, 
Frohike.  I bat from the left side.  I punt to the tight end.  I 
putt from the rough.  I shoot from the free throw line." 

"Langly!  What the hell is with all the sports talk all of a 
sudden?"

"Dammit, Mel!  I'm queer as $3.00 bill.  Is THAT clear enough for you?" 

The look is precious--the fact that it shuts him up even better.

"Huh?" he finally manages to blurt out.

"Read my lips, bright boy. . .I'm HO-MO-SEX-U-AL," I enunciate slowly.

DING!  The little light bulb comes on.  "You mean you're. . ?" 
His voice fades out so I just roll my eyes and nod.  "But. . . aaahhh. . .why. . .why didn't you ever say anything before?" he stammers.

"What was I supposed to say?  Hey, John, Mel--guess what?  I like to parallel park on the wrong side of the street?" 

"Langly, where the HELL are you getting these expressions?" he asks, exasperated.

I wave him off.  "I have a lot of time on my hands."

"But, well. . .how do you know you're. . .you know. . .?" he 
falters.

"Gay?" I finish.

"Yeah.  How do you know if you've never. . .you know, if you're still a virgin?"

"Duh!?  How did YOU know you were straight until you slept with a girl?  I just KNOW, all right?"  I sit down beside him, and crack my knuckles. . .a bad habit I have when I'm nervous.  Like now.

I can't believe I just said it out loud.  I've never told anyone 
before that I'm gay, and the first person I 'come out' to is 
Melvin Frohike.  (Well, and possibly Yves, if we haven't found all her damn mikes--the bitch!)

Could my week get any worse?

"Well, maybe you just THINK you're gay because you've never. . .*you know*. . . with a girl," Frohike rationalizes.

"Maybe I've never. . .*you know*. . .BECAUSE I'm gay," I state, logically.  "I mean, face facts.  Where the hell is a gay geek like me gonna find a date?"

Mel suddenly stands up and starts pacing around my cluttered
room.  "Okay, okay. . .no problem.  It may take me some time to track someone down, but there are some guys that work downtown and. . . ."

"Oh GOD, Frohike!  I don't want my first time to be with some total stranger I have to pay to sleep with me!"

"Sorry.  Didn't mean to offend.  But you were just saying you 
couldn't find a date."

"A date!  Not a hustler!  I want my first time to be with someone special, someone I'm crazy about.  Someone like. . ." I stop, before I say too much.

But apparently I already have.  "Like. . .?  You have someone in mind?" he asks, curiously.

My thoughts drift for a moment, and I could see him vividly in my mind's eye, just like the first time I noticed him.  He was so 
sexy and handsome and studly and. . . damn, I wanted him so 
badly.  Nodding weakly, I whisper, "Yeah."

"Really?  Who is it?"

I shake my head in the negative.  "It's not important.  'Sides, he doesn't even know I exist," I mutter, sadly.

He sits back down on the bed beside me.  "Well, THAT'S not good."

"Gee, you're just filled with riveting insights tonight, ain'tcha?" I observe, snottily. 

"There's no need to get snippy," he retaliates.  "I'm just trying 
to help."

I feel my shoulders slump.  "I know, Mel.  I'm sorry. It's just... don't even bother.  There's no help for me.  He's totally out 
of my league."

"You don't know that until you tell him."

I don't need a mirror to know the look I shoot him could kill. 
"Are you out of your fucking little mind, Frohike?  Why would I do something stupid like that?!?"

"Well, how else is he going to know how you feel?  You've GOT to tell him."

"I don't GOT to do anything," I remind him. 

"So you're just gonna sit there and be miserable, instead of 
taking a chance?  Dammit, Langly, you can't keep something like that inside of you."

I let go with a deep sigh, "You don't understand, Frohike."

"Don't be so sure," he states, confidently.  "I mean, I've been 
in love with Scully for nearly eight years, and I haven't said 
anything to her."

"You don't HAVE to.  If she doesn't know you're hot for her by now, then she's not as bright as we all think she is."  But he 
had a point.  How could anything happen if I didn't even TELL the man how I felt, right?  But I didn't even know where to begin. 

"Okay, so what do I do?"

"Well, honesty is always the best policy.  Just tell him."

I was afraid he was going to say that.  "But. . .what if he hates 
me for saying something?"

He slings his arm around my shoulder.  "Kid, if someone had a
crush on me, I'd want to know.  He may feel the same way you do."

"Think so?" I ask, hopefully. 

"You never know.  Maybe he's been waiting for you to say 
something."

"I don't know, Frohike. . ." I stall.

He squeezes my shoulder in a friendly hug.  "What have you got to lose?"  Giving another quick squeeze, he stands up and leaves. 

What do I have to lose indeed?  Maybe Mel was right about my guy. I mean, I've never seen him out with any women.  Or men, for that matter.  He seems to live almost like a hermit.  Maybe he IS waiting for someone to make the first move.

Before I lose my nerve, I strip out of the rest of my dirty 
clothes, and pull on a clean pair of jeans and my lucky Ramones shirt.  Grabbing my favorite jacket and the keys to the van, I give a smile as I close and lock the front door behind me.

Tonight is gonna be the night!