The Island: Cole & Carlos

Room With a View

By AJ

The alarm went off and Cole groaned as he freed one arm from his warm cocoon and reached out to blindly hit the snooze button. On these cold, dark mornings he would much rather snuggle in bed with Carlos than get up and go to work.

The dogs, sleeping at the foot of the four-poster bed, obviously didn't feel the same way. The alarm signaled permission to be up and about and they took immediate advantage of it. While Fred, the older dog, merely rose and stretched, Ivan was more enthusiastic. Cole jerked his hand back under the mound of blankets just in time to keep the half-grown pup from slobbering on it. "Sit!" he commanded sleepily and was rewarded by the sound of two butts hitting the floor, tails thumping. "Good boys," he mumbled.

Nine minutes later, when the snooze alarm beeped and both dogs whined in chorus with it, he groaned again. "All right, I'm up. I'm up!" Burrowing through the blankets, he found Carlos' face and kissed him more or less on the lips. "Morning, Carlos."

"Not morning," his dark-haired partner grumbled sleepily. "Still dark."

"You can't sleep until the sun comes up," Cole told him, as he had every morning since Carlos had arrived in Alaska. "You'd be sleeping all day."

"So?"

Cole laughed. "Fifteen minutes." He gave a huge yawn as he flipped on the bedside light, fumbled for his silver-rimmed glasses and put on his robe and slippers. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to a few miniscule coals but he didn't bother to relight it. They wouldn't be up in the loft most of the day and the warm air rising from the main floor would keep it comfortable enough.

He carefully made his way down the stairs, trying not to trip over the dogs gamboling around his feet, flipping on lights as he went through the great room into the kitchen. The dogs were already waiting by the backdoor, Ivan patting his feet anxiously, so Cole's first task was to let them out.

As they bulleted their way into the darkness, he checked the thermometer by the door. Only 4 below. Not bad; it would be summer before they knew it. Closing the door, he nudged the thermostat up to its daytime setting and built up the fire in the wood cook stove before going back upstairs to shower.

After a long, hot shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to call Carlos again. His partner was definitely not a morning person. To his surprise, the young man had made it out of bed on his own and was standing with his back to Cole, half-bent over as he shoved his right foot into a pair of long underwear.

Cole admired the long, strong legs, the tight butt, and smooth, straight back and shoulders and considered going back to bed. Unfortunately, his first appointment of the day was with Hans Grimley, a cantankerous old man who was a stickler for punctuality and already not happy about a gay community doctor.

Carlos had finished pulling up his underwear and was reaching for the matching shirt when he turned and saw Cole, his eyes widening appreciatively at the towel-clad man. He dropped the shirt on the bed as his hands went to his waistband suggestively.

Cole shook his head regretfully. "My first appointment is Grimley."

Carlos sighed understandingly. "Rain check?"

"Hold that thought," Cole confirmed.

With another deep sigh, Carlos retrieved his shirt and finished dressing, topping the thermal underwear with jeans and a heavy flannel shirt. He was sitting on the bed, adding thick wool socks to the ensemble when Cole went back into the bathroom to shave.

Carlos had gone down to the kitchen to make breakfast when Cole came back out and began dressing. He chose wool pleat front khakis and a navy blue thin-wale corduroy shirt from the walk-in closet, hoping to look both warm and professional. After adding a brown belt and shoes, he grabbed a sweater in case his office was cold and went down to the kitchen.

"Are you coming into the office with me this morning?" he asked as he scooped dry dog food into two bowls and set them on the floor.

"Not unless you need me to." Carlos filled two bowls with oatmeal, put them on the breakfast table and went back for bacon and toast. "I need to go into town this afternoon, though. Do you want to pick me up or should I walk?"

"I'd better come home for lunch and take you back with me. The high is only supposed to be 16 today and you still have that thin Island blood. I don't want you getting sick," Cole replied. He refilled the dogs' water dishes, stepping around Carlos with the ease of four months repetition and then opened the back door and whistled. Ivan bounded in from the darkness, trying to squeeze between Cole's legs in his eagerness to get to his bowl. Cole blocked him with practiced skill. "Paws!"

Quivering with impatience, Ivan allowed his paws to be lifted and wiped off, skittering across the floor toward Carlos as soon as he was released.

Fred entered the cabin more circumspectly, automatically sitting and lifting his paw for the towel, his ears pricked attentively. The Husky/Shepard mix was a light sable over shoulders and back, fading to cinnamon and fawn, with white on his throat and chest. He had been with Cole almost ten years and he carried those years with dignity and pride. Carlos insisted that he was an Alpha dog, obviously brainwashed by his years of living with Cole.

Ivan looked enough like Fred to be his son - or grandson, considering the difference in their ages - but they were no relation. He was less than a year old, although nobody knew his exact age. Cole and Carlos had picked him out at a husky rescue shelter, where he had been dumped after hours. They didn't know much about him, other than he had been abused, but they had been drawn to his personality. He was energetic, impulsive, easily excited and enthusiastic about life, and if there were trouble within a two mile radius he would find it. As Cole often said, he was a perfect match for Carlos.

The animals taken care of, the men sat down to eat their own breakfast. Looking across the table at his partner, Cole thought again about how lucky he was to have Carlos in his life. After four short months together, he couldn't imagine life without the dark-haired, energetic young man.

One of The Island's worries about their matching was how Carlos, with his short attention span, would do in such an isolated location but he had settled in with no problem at all.

His friendly, outgoing personality and the 'jack-of-all-trades' reputation that had worried The Island proved to be a bonus in the small self-sufficient community. He wasn't interested in doing anything long-term but he had some knowledge in many areas and was always happy to give people a hand when they needed it.

Among other things, he booked appointments at the clinic, shelved library books, refereed hockey games, served lunches at the local school, inoculated sled dogs and, on one memorable occasion, helped clean out an overflowing septic system. After making him shower twice and washing his clothes three times, Cole had asked him not to volunteer for the last one anymore.

"Is the oatmeal that bad?"

"I'm sorry?" Cole looked up, suddenly realizing that he had been staring at his spoon during his musings.

"You were frowning. Is there something wrong with breakfast?"

"No, it's fine," Cole assured him. "I was thinking about septic systems. Which hats are you wearing today?"

"I'm playing househusband first. I have some things to do at home this morning."

"Like watching soaps?" Cole asked, mentioning Carlos' secret vice for the pleasure of watching the dark-haired man flush appealingly.

"Maybe," Carlos replied defensively. "But I need to do some cleaning and vacuuming and start dinner, too."

"Sounds very homey. Do I need to get you some pearls to wear while you vacuum?" Cole continued to tease. He loved Carlos' unselfconscious domesticity; yet another area where they meshed perfectly.

"Did you know June Cleaver wore pearls all the time because the actress had a birthmark on her neck?" Carlos asked. "She was self-conscious about it so she always wore a necklace to hide it."

"No, I didn't know that," Cole replied, impressed, as always, by his partner's knowledge of obscure trivia. It came in very handy during the Trivial Pursuit game held every week as part of Games Night, sponsored by the Clearwater Creek Community Center. Thanks to Carlos, they were the reigning champions.

"Yeah, and I don't have a birthmark so I don't need pearls. Maybe you could give me a new watch instead?" Carlos asked hopefully.

"Did you lose yours again?" Cole frowned.

"I didn't lose it exactly. I just don't know where it is right now," Carlos explained airily. "But if I had two I'd always know where to find one of them."

"I doubt it." Cole glanced at his own watch and pushed his chair back from the table. "I need to get to work, babe. We'll talk about it after I get home."

"Are you taking the dogs in with you?"

"I'll take Fred but not Ivan. Fred will behave. Last time I took Ivan he spotted Mrs. Harmon's cat and I had to chase him for two blocks. I don't think she's ever going to forgive me."

He put on his parka, cap and gloves and started winding a wool scarf around his neck. They were only a mile from town, although the thick woods and isolated location along the creek made it seem further, and the truck wouldn't have time to warm up before he got to work. Summer was coming, though. Soon the morning temp would be above zero on a regular basis.

At the signs of outdoor activity, the dogs began prancing by the door, panting happily, their tails swishing eagerly as they waited for him to open it.

"Grab Ivan, will you?" Cole requested. "Otherwise he'll chase the truck all the way into town."

"I'll see you at lunch time," Carlos said as he moved into Cole's embrace for a good-bye kiss. "Give me a call when you're leaving so I can have it ready."

"Ok. Love you." Cole kissed him good-bye and then waited for him to kneel and take Ivan by the collar before he opened the door to the garage, Fred pacing regally by his side.

Carlos held the straining puppy's collar until the door closed and Ivan plopped down with a frustrated whine. "It's all right," he consoled the disappointed animal, who immediately turned, tailing wagging frantically, to wash the man's face.

"Hey, stop!" Carlos tried vainly to dodge the slurping tongue. "Go find your ball!"

Recognizing the beloved word, Ivan darted into the great room and scooted under a chair to retrieve his toy.

Carlos rolled the ball across the floor for him a few times and then, mindful of Cole's restrictions on playing ball in the house, gave Ivan his stuffed bear to chew on and went to turn on the tv.

With "The Today Show" playing in the background, he went into the home office/study off the great room and checked his email. By the time he had finished reading and replying to emails from Andre, Jamie, and Taylor, it was late enough to turn off all the lights, start a kettle of vegetable-moose soup for dinner and mix up a batch of sourdough bread.

When Cole had told him they would be living in a log cabin, he had pictured something small, dark and primitive. His image couldn't have been farther from reality. Certain aspects of the cabin were rustic - the flagstone floor in the kitchen, the wood cook stove, the thick honey-colored log walls - but it also had all of the modern conveniences.

While he enjoyed having a kettle of soup simmering on the back of the wood stove all day and loved the taste of bread baked over a wood fire, he also appreciated the microwave, dishwasher and trash compactor.

He switched the tv to "As the World Turns' while he cleaned the downstairs bathroom, hampered slightly by the curious Ivan, and then went up to the loft to make the bed and vacuum.

He had originally been unsure about a master bedroom that was open to the great room below; in his opinion, bedrooms shouldn't be missing a wall. However he had quickly grown to love this one. The massive native stone column that rose through the center of the cabin and formed the downstairs fireplace and chimney for the cook stove also provided the fireplace in the loft. Thick rugs adorned the hardwood floor and a hand-made Aleut blanket topped the four-poster bed, making the room seem warm and intimate, while the peaked ceiling with its wide planks and exposed log beams kept it from feeling too confined.

Ivan had followed him upstairs and had a wonderful time with the vacuum cleaner, running in terror when Carlos pushed it toward him, then chasing it in loud, joyful victory when Carlos pulled it back. After barking in triumph when it finally died and Carlos put it away until next time, he accepted a rawhide bone in tribute and retired to the kitchen to demolish it.

With Ivan temporarily settled, Carlos went to get the stepladder from the garage and carried it into the great room. He still had an hour or so before Cole returned and he knew exactly what he was going to do with his time.

The south side of the great room was virtually a wall of glass, huge window panes stretching from the cathedral ceiling to the hardwood floor, flooding the cabin with light on even the shortest days of winter. Carlos never tired of the view; the creek and woods in the foreground and a magnificent view of snow-covered mountains in the distance. He often saw deer or moose or even, occasionally, a bear along the creek bank and the mountains were a reminder of Cole's promise that they would go climbing during the summer.

There was only one flaw. In January, when the sun rose at 10 and set at 3, that flaw hadn't been evident. At the end of March, when the sun was in the sky 10 hours a day, it was immediately transparent. Or translucent, if you wanted to get technical about it.

There was a large cobweb at the very top of the window, spun between the frame and one of the log beams, and it was driving him crazy. Once he had spotted it, he couldn't ignore it. It was always there, hovering in the background like fingernails on a chalkboard whenever he gazed out the window.

He couldn't understand why it didn't bother the normally perfectionist Cole but it didn't. Cole had simply pointed out that cobwebs had once been packed into wounds to stop bleeding (and Cole thought Carlos had a memory for obscure trivia!) and said the window cleaners would take care of it when they came.

Carlos wasn't willing to wait that long. He had already tried several times to get rid of it, without any luck. He couldn't reach it from the loft, even leaning precariously over the rail and using a dust cloth duct-taped to the broom. The stepladder wasn't high enough and the broom wasn't long enough, even with the dust mop taped to it. Standing on the stepladder with the broom and dust mop taped together hadn't worked either. He hadn't had enough control over the unwieldy implement and had almost fallen through the window trying.

But he had a new idea that he was sure would work. There was a narrow table behind the couch, the same height as the back of the couch. He cleared this and moved it over to the window. Then he got the stepladder and set it up on the table. There was a moment when he was afraid that his plan wouldn't work, that the ladder was wider than the table, but he turned it sideways and it was an exact fit.

He duct-taped the dust cloth to the broom, climbed to the very top of the ladder and was thrilled to find that it worked. He could reach the cobweb with no trouble at all. He vigorously scrubbed at it until all traces had disappeared and then, leaning out as far as he could in either direction, wiped down the beams on either side for good measure.

He was backing down the ladder when Ivan trotted in, saw him on the table and rushed over, barking wildly.

"No, Ivan!" he shouted as the dog jumped at the table, his paws scrabbling at the edge as he attempted to pull himself up. "This isn't a game! Stop!"

As the dog leaped again, the ladder teetered ominously. Carlos dropped the broom to flail at thin air and the handle whacked Ivan on the back. Yelping piteously, he thundered up the stairs and under the bed, leaving Carlos to land flat on his back, narrowly missed by the falling ladder.

"Oh. Well. Ouch," Carlos thought blankly. Then, "Owwww!" He rolled onto one side and gently felt the back of his head. He was going to have one big goose egg back there. He sat up and shook his head, a big mistake that almost cost him his breakfast. He sure hoped he didn't have a concussion. Cole would be pissed.

Moving cautiously, he assessed the rest of the damage. The window was ok, the ladder was ok, and he was pretty sure he could buff the scratches out of the table. On the other hand, he was also pretty sure his little finger wasn't supposed to bend that way and neither was the sausage it was starting to resemble.

He braced himself against the table until the dizziness passed, then slowly made his way to the downstairs bathroom. There he flipped on the light and leaned against the counter to get as close to the mirror as possible. His pupils looked the same size and were, as near as he could tell, reactive to light.

There was no point in disturbing Cole at this point. He was busy with patients and, thanks to the first aid classes Carlos had signed up for as soon as they had matched, he knew there was nothing life-threatening about his condition. Cole would be home for lunch soon anyway.

He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen. Cole always said it was better for inflammation than acetaminophen and his finger was definitely inflamed. He quickly discovered that you can't take a child-proof cap off with one hand. That made sense. He had enough trouble taking it off with two hands.

He finally solved the problem by dropping the bottle on the floor and stepping on it. He sorted out two uncrushed tables from the resulting mix of fragments and powder and washed them down with water from the sink. Then, taking a hand towel with him, he went to the freezer, found an unopened bag of frozen peas and wrapped it in the towel.

As he sat down on the couch with his makeshift ice pack, Ivan crept down the stairs from the loft and whimpered beseechingly, his ears flattened until he looked like a baby Yoda.

"It's ok, Ivan," Carlos crooned to the miserable dog and patted his knee. "Come here, baby. I'm sorry I hit you with the mean old broom."

Ivan clambered up onto the couch next to him and shoved his muzzle into Carlos' armpit, still whimpering. Repositioning the silky head in his lap, careful to avoid the ice pack, Carlos fondled the pup's ears with his good hand. "We sure messed up this time, huh? Cole is going to be so pissed."

He automatically continued to reassure Ivan while staring unseeingly at the tv. His hand was throbbing but nothing like his butt was going to when Cole was through 'explaining things' to him.

He had read somewhere that a new pain cancelled out an older one, that the body couldn't focus on both at once. He sure hoped that was true. He'd hate to have his hand and butt throbbing in unison. On the bright side, maybe Cole would give him a pain killer for his hand and it would also work on his butt.

The ibuprofen and ice were doing absolutely nothing for his hand and his head was throbbing, too. If you had three pains, did two of them get cancelled out? If so, how did your body decide which one to pay attention to? And why was he even worrying about it? Maybe he had a concussion after all. With a heavy sigh, he gave up and called Cole. "Can you come home for lunch a little early? I kind of had a little accident."

"Carlos?" Cole called as he came in the back door, Fred treading on his heels. "What happened? What's going on?"

Ivan rushed up to Fred, whimpering and whining, clearly telling him all about the nasty broom that had attacked him, and Cole absently shushed him, sending both dogs to lie down out of his way. "Carlos? Where are you?"

"Right here. I kind of fell." Carlos came to greet him in the kitchen. "I don't have a concussion but I think I dislocated the proximal interphalangeal joint of the fifth digit on my right hand."

"It sure looks like it," Cole said gravely after Carlos sat down at the table so he could examine the swollen finger. "But let's get an x-ray before I reduce it, to be sure you don't have an avulsion fracture."

"Uh-I don't think I learned that one in my medical terminology course."

"Let's make sure you didn't break it along with the dislocation," Cole explained with a kiss to the top of Carlos' head. "And I want to check for a concussion myself. Come into the living room where the light is better."

"Um--" Carlos stood but dragged his heels. "Don't you think the bathroom would be better?"

"No, I think the living room-- " Cole tugged at his partner's good hand to get him moving, then came to an abrupt halt as he took in the table, the ladder and the broom. "Carlos! What the HELL were you thinking!?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Carlos responded meekly. "I guess I should have put Ivan outside first."

"I guess you should have stayed on the floor! What if the ladder had fallen the other way?"

"I'd be paying for a new window? Ow!" he added as Cole tapped the back of his head. "Stop that! I already have a headache."

"You're going to have more than that," Cole promised grimly as he steered Carlos to the couch and got out a pocket flashlight. "Falling through the window isn't a joke. Now look at me. Did you lose consciousness at all?"

After determining that Carlos didn't have a concussion, he helped the young man into his parka, carefully easing it over the swollen hand. "You're not going to be able to wear a glove on that hand," he said as he tugged a ski cap over Carlos' ears, "but we aren't going to be out in the cold that long. Go get in the truck while I put the dogs in their run."

"What about the soup and bread dough?" Carlos asked. "I don't want dinner to be ruined."

"I'll take care of them, too," Cole promised with an exasperated sigh, "but I think your hand is a little more important than dinner right now."

Carlos leaned back in the cafe booth with a sigh. The x-rays had confirmed his guess, dislocated but without an avulsion fracture. Cole, after injecting a local anesthetic, had realigned his finger and buddy taped it to the next two. Now, groggy from the pain killer he had taken, he was picking at a plate of french fries and waiting for Cole to finish with a couple of patients. A tentative suggestion that he get someone to run him home had been met with such a ferocious look that he had meekly trudged across the street without further protest.

He sat, swirling fries in ketchup and fielding questions about his hand until Cole came to fetch him. The ride home was chilly in more ways than one, his tentative overtures to the older man met with one syllable replies until he got the idea and gave up.

"Take your shoes off and go upstairs," Cole directed as soon as they had entered the cabin and hung up their outwear.

"But we don't do discipline in the bedroom," Carlos pointed out in confusion.

" We do this time. I want you to stretch out where we can protect your head and hand."

"If you're that worried about my head and hand, maybe we shouldn't do it this time," Carlos made a last, half-hearted effort, more because it came naturally than because he expected it to work.

"Carlos."

"I'm going, I'm going."

Once upstairs, Carlos reluctantly took off his jeans and long underwear and allowed Cole to help position him across the Alpha's lap, the rest of his body supported by the bed.

"You ready?"

Carlos fisted the blanket in his good hand and nodded.

As Cole's hand came down, Carlos received an answer to his earlier questions. The ache in both his head and hand quickly faded to the background as his brain zeroed in on the sizzling pain of Cole's hand unerringly covering every inch of his backside. Vicodin, stalwart protector against broken bones, 10-inch lacerations and root canals, stood no chance at all against the paddle that followed.

And he didn't deserve protection. Cole was right. What if the ladder had tipped the other way and he had gone through the window? Worse, what if he had landed on Ivan? He would never have been able to forgive himself if he had injured the pup. Suddenly it was all to much - he put his head down and, instead of bucking against the punishing hand, gave in and gave a hoarse, shuddering sob, his chest heaving in its attempt to fill his lungs with air. Almost instantly, he was on his feet and Cole was pulling back the blankets and easing him into bed.

"Don't-- Don't leave," he gulped, stretching out his hand plaintively.

"I'm not leaving," Cole reassured him gently.

Going around to his side of the bed, he lay on his back, pulled Carlos into the tight circle of his arms and held him while the young man sobbed out his pain and remorse. At some point the Vicodin staged a valiant comeback and his eyes glazed, then closed, and he slept.

It was still light outside when he awoke. He was alone in the bed but the aroma of freshly-baked bread wafted upward with the warm air from the downstairs fireplace.

He lay still for a moment, assessing his situation. It wasn't good. His brain, so single-minded earlier, seemed to have developed ADD. Unsure which it should focus on, his head, hand and butt throbbed painfully in unison.

With a deep sigh, he got up and rummaged in Cole's drawer until he found what he was looking for; a well-washed, well-worn pair of sweats, so old the elastic was worn and so loose they slid down his hips. They were the most comfortable thing Carlos could think of right now. Holding them up with one hand, he went downstairs to find Cole.

Cole met him at the bottom of the stairs, holding out his arms and Carlos stumbled into them, resting his head against the older man's chest. "How are you feeling?" Cole asked, brushing the tousled hair back from the young man's face and then tipping his face up. "Let me see your eyes."

"Still no concussion?" Carlos asked with a tentative smile.

"Still no concussion," Cole confirmed with a smile of his own. "Are you hungry? Would you like some soup?"

"No." Carlos shook his head. "Where are the dogs?"

"They're outside. They were playing tug o' war with an old piece of rope last time I checked on them. Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the couch and I'll bring you a tray?"

"I don't think comfort is an option," Carlos grumbled. "And I'm not hungry."

"Do your best," Cole advised, with a small push in the right direction. "I'll be back in a minute with your soup."

Carlos settled as comfortably as he could on the couch, sitting with his feet up and his back against the arm. The room was warm but he still reached for the afghan tossed across the back of the couch and pulled it over

Cole came in, carrying a tray which he helped Carlos arrange over his lap, and then handed him a pill.

"Aren't you going to stay with me?" Carlos asked as he washed the pill down with the water Cole handed to him. Cole brushed a hand over the young man's cheek and Carlos caught and held it longingly.

"In a few minutes," Cole promised. "I need to bring the dogs in, plug in the truck for the night and fill the wood boxes first."

"Can you bring me my book?"

"After you eat."

Carlos pouted for a moment and then broke off a piece of bread and dipped it in his soup, staring out the bank of windows as he ate. The sun was setting and the sky was a symphony of color - vivid pinks, oranges and crimsons blending into a deep purple above and a rich gold below, all reflected off the snow-capped mountains. It was a beautiful sight.

And, best of all, there wasn't a single cobweb to block the view.

The End