The Island: Jackson

Going Home

Part 1

By Nelson

Jackson stepped off the plane at Baltimore-Washington International airport and scanned the signs overhead directing the way to baggage claim and ground transportation.  This would be the airport he'd be using from now on for any air travel needs he might have, he supposed. It was closest to home.  His stomach fluttered as the thought crossed his mind.  Home.  Their home. His home.  It didn't feel real.  It couldn't be real, could it?

"It's this way," Jonas said, taking a turn to the left, and Jackson was shaken from his thoughts enough to follow.

The gate area was crowded with people awaiting their turn to take a seat on the aircraft Jonas, Taggert and Jackson had just vacated. They stood around, impatience painted on their features, as they hovered, bags in hand, convinced that if they boarded first they would get to their destinations more quickly.  Jackson pushed through them, keeping his eye on Jonas, who was leading the way.

Taggart shouldered his carry-on bag and pushed his other hand to the small of Jackson's back as they broke free of the crowd.  "We hope you like living here.  We love it."

"Our home visit was the only time you've ever been to Maryland, right?" Jonas asked.

"That was it, yeah," Jackson said, looking out the oversized airport windows as they passed through.  Planes were parked in gate after gate, lining the outside of the concourse, patiently preparing to take another trip. 

"It's a great place to live.  We're close to so much, including the water. Great places to eat."

They passed an airport restaurant, boasting the best Maryland crabcakes in the area, and not just in the busy terminal.  "Have you had crabcakes there?" he asked as they rushed by.

"Phillips?" Taggert asked, with a glance over his shoulder at the storefront.  "Yeah, but not in here.  In Baltimore at the harbor."

"Do they really have good crabcakes like they claim?"

"They're ok," Jonas said. "We prefer steamed whole crabs at Mike's down on the water in Annapolis. It's closer than going to Phillips, too.  We'll definitely be taking you there."

"It's one of our favorite places.  We go just about every Friday night."

"We should go out tonight, even though it isn't Friday," Jonas recommended. "We've been gone for a couple weeks, so there's no food in the fridge."

"That's true," Taggert said. "What do you think, Jackson?"

Jackson didn't care what they did.  He felt like he was on autopilot, a fish out of water as much as a crab.  His feet still struggled to stay on the ground, carried on by the euphoria of being committed and facing the new world awaiting him.  It felt surreal.  He noticed a red sweatshirt in the window of a store in the terminal with the word "Maryland" emblazoned across the chest.  He might have to get one of those, not that he would need a cheesy reminder of where he was.  He was home, but he was proud to be there.

"Earth to Jackson," Jonas elbowed him.

"Oh, sorry.  That's fine," he said.

"Baggage claim," Jonas said.  "Here we go." 

"Do you want to sit down?" Taggert asked him.

Jackson checked out the scantily cushioned chairs in the waiting area and immediately arrived at a decision.  "No, I've been sitting for hours.  Um…" he quickly adjusted his position, "unless you do."

"I'm fine," Taggert assured him.  "You can sit or stand, whichever you want. It might be a while for the bags to come up, is all."

"Do you want me to sit down?" Jackson asked uncertainly.  

Jonas ran his hand down Jackson's back discreetly.  "You do whatever you want to. We aren't dictators."

Jackson felt his shoulders relax a little. "You're just rated like them," he couldn't help a teasing remark.

Jonas grinned at him.  "That's about right."

They hung around the unmoving metal baggage belt amid a hoard of anxious deplaned passengers, eagerly watching the lifeless conveyer belt for some glimmer of movement, signaling the imminent arrival of their suitcases.  The buzzer finally sounded and people flocked to the belt like pigs to slop, necks craning to get a glimpse of the suitcases that rose up slowly from the belly of the airport. 

"I'll fight the crowd and watch for our bags," Taggert said, and he bravely joined the throng as Jackson and Jonas hung back, trying to stay out of the way.

A few minutes later, Jackson saw Taggert's dark head duck and disappear through the people, then reappear with Jonas' suitcase.  Jonas stepped forward quickly and took the suitcase, sending Taggert back in for more.  Soon, he had snagged all their bags, and they were on their way.

"We parked in the B garage, didn't we?" Taggert asked Jonas, rolling his suitcase along behind him.

"No, A, 6^th floor."

"I don't know how you remember details like that."

Jonas tapped his temple with a forefinger.  "A steel trap."  Jonas took a second to glance at Jackson and offer a wink.

It was all Jackson could do to keep his face from exploding in a Cheshire grin at his luck as he savored them with stolen glances as they walked through the airport.  His heart swelled to just about the point of bursting, as the two men he had fallen for flanked him on each side. Their very presence gave him a sense of security he was almost afraid to believe.  Why had it taken them so long to find each other? He could have been enjoying them for a long time had the moons and planets aligned earlier.  Still, he counted himself lucky to have the rest of his life to share with them.

He could not – would not – allow himself to screw it up.  They had taken a chance on him, and he would make sure it was gamble they wouldn't lose.  He was committed to it, as much as to them.

"It's not much farther," Taggert interrupted Jackson's thoughts.  "Are you ok with those bags?"

Jackson adjusted his heavily hanging carry-on, ignoring the strain on his right shoulder. "I'm good." 

It wasn't a total lie; Jackson was better than he had been in his whole life.  Just committed for one full day, he had enough happiness right then to chase all the bad relationship memories scurrying back into the corners of his mind, daring them to resurface and ruin anything.

The airport opened up in the ticketing area, offering a view of the first and second levels leading out to ground transportation and airport parking.  Large red-tiled columns lined the front of the building, with a few more scattered inside to balance out the decor.  They passed an enormous crab encased in glass, made of colorful blue and green-mirrored tiles at the second floor exit leading to the parking garage.

"Jeez.  I've heard of Maryland crabs but I had no idea they were such a big deal here," Jackson commented, eying the oversized crab as they walked toward the people movers.

"Oh, yeah. Huge," Jonas said.  "Do you like crabs?"

"I've only had crabcakes."

"Oh, then we have got to go to Mike's for sure.  We'll teach you how to pick crabs," Taggert said.

"You pick them out like lobster?" he asked innocently. "Then they cook them?"

Jonas laughed.  "No, that's what they call it when you crack them open and 'pick' the meat out.  They're steamed and you have to work to get at the good stuff."

"That sounds…" Jackson started, and only the word "gross" came to mind, so he paused to find a better one, not wanting to offend them as soon as they stepped on Maryland soil.

"I know," Jonas said, saving him the trouble. "It's really good, though."

"You can't eat too much," Taggert offered, "because it's too much work to get any meat."

"Why don't you just eat the crabcakes or something else then?"

"That's not nearly as much fun," Taggert said as he stepped off the people mover leading to the garage. 

The cold air cut through Jackson like thousands of icy fingers, piercing his sun kissed, island acclimated skin.  The wind pinched his cheeks ruthlessly, and his nose and ears tingled with the bite of the cold.  Jackson pulled his jacket tighter around him and was thankful for the sweater Jonas and Taggert had insisted he wear home.  It seemed unnecessary in the 80 degree heat that was common on The Island, but clearly not so silly for Maryland this time of year.

"February is our coldest month," Taggert explained when he noticed Jackson bundling up. "You won't have to endure it much longer.  Spring is right around the corner."

"Here's the car."  Jonas pulled the keyfob from his pants pocket and a little "blip blip" sounded, making a red Ford Explorer react by flashing its rear taillights. 

Jackson suddenly felt oddly out of place.  It was Jonas and Taggert's car, not his, and he was certain they had a routine about who drove what, and sat where.  He stared between the front and rear doors, uncertain where to go.

"There's plenty of room in the back," Taggert commented.

He felt a small pang of hurt.  They had already decided he would be remanded to the back seat?  Was it because he was the junior "partner" or the latest addition? "We drove the SUV out here on purpose so all our stuff should fit back here without a problem," Taggert continued as he raised the hatchback. 

"You're shotgun, Jackson," Jonas informed him as he heaved a suitcase into the trunk space.  "We want you to be able to see everything.  Taggert can fit in the back."

Oh, Jackson thought, his cheeks flushing with guilt.  He cursed his failed relationships and mistreatment in the past, and then he cursed himself for jumping to conclusions. Brad had warned him not to read into things, not to create drama that didn't exist.  Focus on reality and don't jump to conclusions.  That's what Brad said. He sighed softly to himself.  He should be focusing on how exciting it was to be going to his new home with the two men he loved, not looking for things that weren't there.

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.  "You have longer legs than I do."

"It's not a problem," Taggert told him confidently. 

"The door's unlocked," Jonas said as he tossed the last bag in the trunk space. 

Jackson slid into his place in the front seat and looked around the vehicle.  There was a CD holder affixed to the visor over Jonas' seat and Jackson tried to get a peek at the titles before Jonas got in the car, which didn't take long.  "Seatbelt," Jonas directed as snapped his own in place.

"Oh.  I haven't been in a car for a long time. Just Island carts and stuff."

"We'll remind you," Taggert said from the back.

Jonas maneuvered the vehicle out of the narrow parking space, made smaller by the mass of the Explorer, then paid the parking bill on the way out. 

"We're not far from the house," he said, turning onto interstate 97.  "We hope you like living in the house and the neighborhood."

"We really like it. Lots of trails and walking areas around, decent pools."

"No waterfalls," Jonas flashed him a smile.

"Thank God," Jackson commented.  "I suppose there would be a rule about that if there was a waterfall nearby."

"You bet," Taggert replied from the backseat. "Jackson, the exit to the mall is right up here if we stayed on 97. The next one up after we take our exit.  We'll need to head out there and get some more winter clothes for you."

Jackson looked out the window and searched for the mall, but they exited the interstate too quickly for him to see anything much. 

"This is our exit."

Jackson looked up at the green road sign indicating the way to Solomon's Island.  "I didn't realize that before.  We live on an island?" As soon as the "we" was out of his mouth, the unnatural feel of it rolling off his tongue left him inclined to take it back.  He had to remind himself that he was part of the package now; he was a "we".

"No," Taggert laughed. "There's a lot of water around, but we don't live on an island."

Two south, Jackson repeated to himself several times, trying his best to commit the directions to memory.  Two South.  97 South to 2 South, 97 South to 2 South. 

"Look up here on your right," Jonas pointed out Jackson's window.  "Right… there.  Yellow Fin."

Row after row of sailboats stood hull to hull, crowding the area in front of a building that Jackson could barely see.  "It's a boat place? Do we have a boat?" he practiced using the two-letter word again.

"No, that's a boat dealer next door. Yellow Fin is a restaurant and it's right… there. A really good one. One of our favorites."

"You guys eat out a lot?" Jackson asked. "You already named two favorite places."

Jonas glanced in the rearview mirror.  "Busted, Taggert."

"We generally go out a couple times a week, but that's mostly because we don't like to cook for two."

"But now that there are three of us, we'll do better," Jonas pointed out.  Jackson grinned bashfully, and turned his head to the window.  "You'll find there are a ton of good places to eat around here.  It's a good thing we keep active."

"Here's our neighborhood," Taggert said. 

Jackson took in the large brick homes and whistled.  "Wow. I had forgotten how nice this was."

"We got lucky and bought in here before the market exploded," Taggert said. "We couldn't afford this neighborhood now, even on our salaries."

"This is us," Jonas said as he pulled into a two-story brick home with an immaculately trimmed yard. 

There was a black Acura parked in the other bay of the two-car garage when they pulled in and Jackson tamped down another feeling of being a third wheel.  There was no room for three cars, only two.  It didn't matter anyway, he reprimanded himself. He didn't have a car nor a driver's license, so neither was going to be an issue.  It didn't matter where the mall was or how to get home from the airport because he wouldn't be behind the wheel.  He wasn't even ready to raise the issue with Jonas and Taggert yet. There was plenty more for him to get used to before he tackled Baltimore-DC traffic.

The garage was exactly as he'd expect of two Alphas living together: neat and orderly, with everything in its apparent place.  There were cabinets lining the walls on either side, and shelves built into a storage area along the back wall that provided a resting place for various stashes of tools and equipment.  Two bicycles hung from the ceiling, and the pads and helmets – two sets of them – hung from a hook nearby. 

Taggert closed the back door of the car as Jackson got out.  "We need to go bike shopping for you.  We like to ride in the neighborhood.  Do you like to bike?"

"I haven't done it in a long time."  Two years to be exact. 

There was that number again.  Two.  Two years. Two South. Two bikes. Two cars. Two lovers.

No, there were three lovers, he reminded himself. He did belong there; Jonas and Taggert said so. 

"You're going to love this neighborhood, we think," Taggert said. "Sometimes, we'll just go for a long walk to unwind from the day.  The trails go into the woods or we can stick to the sidewalks. Some of the trails are paved and some are part of a nature preserve."

"Sounds cool."

Jonas opened the door that led into the house and he put the bags he was carrying by the foot of the stairs.  "Do we need to give you another grand tour?  It's been a couple months since you came out here for a visit."

"Maybe," Jackson said.

It had been a long time, and that week was almost a blur, mostly from the overwhelming excitement of the event.  Knowing that he was there on a 'home visit' because it was going to be his permanent residence was almost more than he could imagine at the time.  Knowing he was now home for good was about to make his brain explode.  How could it be for real?  *Was* it still for real?

"You see the half-bath is still where it was the last time," Taggert said with a nod to the little room right across from the garage door.  "And that's the laundry room to your right."

"Just put those down there by the stairs while we show you this floor and the basement," Jonas nodded toward his bags.

Jackson dropped his suitcase beside the ones Jonas had deposited and he crammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants, not quite sure what to do with them. 

"Here's the kitchen," Jonas fanned his arm out toward the large open area, lined with tall white cabinets that reached the ceiling.

The countertops were granite, a blend of dark brown with black flecks that sat atop the white cabinetry.  Taggert leaned against the counter and patted the top of a bulging kitchen island filling the space in the center of the kitchen. "This should look a little different because we just got this not long ago.  When you saw it last, it was just a big room with cabinets."

"It's huge," Jackson's eyes grew at the enormous structure.  There were doors lining at least two sides of it that Jackson could see, yet the carpenter had spared room enough for a wine rack and shelves for cookbooks.

"It is, but it's a big room," Jonas said. "We'd been wanting a kitchen island since we moved in, but just got around to it.  We couldn't find anything we liked."

"*He* couldn't find anything he liked," Taggert cocked an eyebrow at Jonas.

"No, *he* couldn't."

Taggert swung his gaze over to Jackson.  "We couldn't agree on what we liked."

"Until we found this."

Jackson took in the cranberry walls, accented by a curtain of sage green and matching red that covered the single window in the corner above the over-sized sink.  "You painted since I was here last time."

"Yeah.  We agreed on the color of the paint for in here, thank God, so that didn't take much back and forth.  We finished painting the kitchen and the den a month or so ago. Not long after you left.  Do you like it?"

"It's nice."

The sage green color scheme extended to the walls in the open living area connecting with the kitchen and Jackson's eye was immediately drawn to the large plasma television in the corner by the fireplace.

"Wow," he breathed.  "I can't believe you have one of these."

"We just splurged.  But that's his baby." Taggert jerked a thumb in Jonas' direction.

"I'm not the only one who loves that thing.  You'll enjoy it, too, Jackson."

Jackson looked past Jonas into the living room at the other end of the hall.  "That looks the same from what I remember, not that we were in there much."

"With a den upstairs and down, there's not much need to go into a formal living room," Taggert said. "We rarely use it except to sit there and drink wine while we hand out Halloween candy. I think that's the last time we sat down in there, isn't it, babe?"

Jonas nodded.  "I think you're right.  Now, the basement is a different story."

He led the way to the basement stairs that jaunted off in a turn from the upstairs stairway.  Jackson stepped down into the basement and found another bathroom, this one with a shower included.  He could see a darkened room off to his left but couldn't make out anything but a chair in there.  He vaguely remembered that room but couldn't quite place it.

"This is our office," Taggert said, snapping on the light, "where all those conversations took place that swept us off our feet." 

He tugged Jackson close and kissed him hard on the lips.  Jackson felt a bit of a flutter at both the kiss and the reminder that these men loved him.  "Our IM love affair.  I do remember this room now.  I sent Brad emails while I was here."

"Right there at that computer."

The computer desk was huge with a large hutch atop one side of the "L", a computer monitor on top of the other.  "You don't have a laptop yet?"

"No," Jonas said. "We're not on the computer that much. Not for more than the usual.  Checking some email, paying bills, IMing good-looking men on The Island."

"Oh, speaking of Brad," Taggert snapped his fingers, "we can't forget to call and let him know we're here in one piece."

"I say 'good-looking men' and you think of Brad?"

"No, I thought of Jackson, which made me think of Brad," Taggert said with a playful shove. "Plus, Jackson just mentioned him."

The two men breezed through the rest of the house, finishing with the master bedroom.  They were proud of the new California King sleigh bed they had purchased in anticipation of having another body in the bed with them.  Jackson wasn't sure he would be able to sleep with two other people, but there were two guest bedrooms upstairs that he could sneak off to if needed.

Jonas and Taggert had cleared out a section of the large walk-in closet for Jackson to use and designated his share of the chest of drawers for his things.

"Why don't we get our clothes put away and give Brad a call?" Jonas suggested. "Then we can go pick some crabs at Mike's.  Is that ok with you guys?"

Jackson's head bobbed on its own accord without any direction from his brain.  It was overwhelming, so much to take in.  Jackson felt like the odd man out, on the outside looking in, as Jonas and Taggert made small talk while unpacking their bags.  Aside from a few pair of jeans, most of the things in Jackson's suitcase consisted of khaki shorts and polos, standard issue attire on The Island.  It would hardly touch the amount of clothing space that Jonas and Taggert had given to him.

"We're going to have to get you some winter clothes this week for sure," Jonas observed as Jackson took his folded shorts out of the suitcase.  "We only picked up a couple sweaters for you to cover getting you here because we wanted you to be able to pick out what you wanted.  We're almost through the worst of winter, though."

"February is the worst," Taggert agreed.  "You might get to see snow here before the month is over.  Are those dirty?"

Jackson looked at the wad of crumpled clothes in corner of his suitcase and nodded. "Yeah."

"We'll have some laundry to do today I'm sure, by the time we all unpack.  Hamper's in the back of the closet. Did you see it?"

Jackson nodded again. "Yeah."

Jackson was sure he could handle laundry duty without screwing up.  He had plenty of practice on The Island with so many men in one cottage.  There was always laundry to do.  Jackson disappeared into the large closet and dropped his dirty clothes in the hamper, glancing at the empty hangers in his spot on the way out.  He still couldn't believe it.  *His* section of the closet.  

"You're awfully quiet," Jonas noticed, grabbing Jackson's tight shoulders as he returned from the closet.  "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

Jackson dropped his eyes and nodded again. "Yeah."  A lot not to mess up.  His eyes brightened as he assured himself he could do it.  "But I'm so happy.  I just can't believe it."

Jonas pulled him into a tight embrace and kissed the top of his head.  "Believe it.  It's going to be ok, one day at a time.  This will feel like home before you know it, I promise."

"I know. I'm just going to go hang up my shirts."

Jackson couldn't believe he was actually in a place he could call home.  It was too good to be true, wasn't it?  He was positive someone had a grip on the rug beneath his feet, and was ready to yank it out from under him at any time.  He struggled to keep his balance, determined not to fall flat if it happened.  He was going to wake up, he just knew it.  But then his new partners didn't seem to be dreaming.  Jonas and Taggert had planned so much already, even down to giving him his own space in the bathroom for his personal products. 

Jackson wandered into the closet and smiled when he saw the empty space cleared out just for him.  He hung up each one of his shirts, then paused when he got to the bottom of the pile.  His wedding clothes.  He was overwhelmed again but this time by a good feeling.  He picked up the shirt and held it up, remembering the day before on the beach.  It was still fresh in his mind like it had just happened that morning. 

It was hard to believe that only the day before he had been scared shitless that Jonas and Taggert would change their minds and not show, but they had come without hesitation.  His face broke out in a smile as he listened to the other two voices out in the bedroom. They weren't saying anything special; just talking in that comfortable banter that established couples use. The rumble of their voices was both soothing and exhilarating, drawing Jackson from his thoughts in the closet to the reality of them in the bedroom.

"Are you done with your suitcase?" Taggert asked as he popped his head into the closet.

Jackson looked up from what he was doing, his thoughts disrupted by the question directed at him.  "Yeah, I'm done after I hang up this last outfit."

"Ok. I'm going to put your suitcase away." Taggert gathered the empty suitcase and zipped it closed.

"Where's 'away'?" Jackson asked as he hung up the wedding outfit in his hands.

"Oh, sorry. We store them in the guest bedroom closet."

Jackson followed Taggert back into the bedroom.  "Another TV," he noticed, glancing at the set on top of the dresser.  "I like having a TV in the bedroom.  It wasn't allowed on The Island."

"Yeah, we do, too," Jonas said. "Good luck getting the remote away from Taggert. He might call the TVs my babies but he's pretty territorial with the remote."

"I am not."

"You'll see," Jonas confided quietly.  He stood and clapped his hands together as he looked around the room, finding nothing more to do.  "Well.  Are you ready to give Brad a call?"

"Yeah."

"There's a phone on that nightstand," Jonas indicated.  "We'll give you some privacy to talk to him, ok?"

Jonas and Taggert cleared out and Jackson pressed the appropriate buttons.  He had a pang of loss, even having only been gone for a day, while he waited for someone to answer the phone.  He sat gingerly on the bed, and was shocked by the reality that he wouldn't be going back to The Island, not for an extended stay, anyway.  It wasn't that he wasn't happy being with Jonas and Taggert.  It was that he wouldn't have his Island friends and Brad anymore. 

"Hello?" a breathless Ashton answered after four rings.

Jackson's face lit up with the comfortable familiarity the voice brought.  "Hey! What did I catch you in the middle of?"

"Jackson! Nothing. I kept waiting for someone else to get the phone, and by the time I realized no one was going to, I had to make a run for it."

"It's too early for anything to have changed, I guess."

"Hardly.  How does it feel to be an old married man?"

Jackson could hear the teasing smile in his friend's voice.  "I don't know because I'm not old."

"You're older than me," he joked.

"Right. Obey your elder then and get Brad to the phone."

"Hang on.  Brad!!" he bellowed.  Jackson grimaced and pulled the phone away from his ear.  "Telephone! It's Jackson!"

He heard some fumbling around with the phone and muffled sounds, then heard a voice he had become quite familiar with over the last two years.  "Jackson," Brad said into the phone.

"Hi, Brad."

"How are you? Are you at home?"

Home.  Yes, he was home.  "Yeah, we're here."

"How was your trip? Tell me all about it."

Jackson found himself letting go of his apprehension and actually getting excited about his new place as he rambled on, telling Brad all about their journey, and reminding him about the house.

"And how are you feeling? A little overwhelmed?" Brad's intuition started to show.

"It's a lot to take in," Jackson admitted. 

"But worth it, right?"

"Oh, definitely," Jackson said without hesitation. "I'm happy, just…"

"Overwhelmed."

"I don't want to mess this up. I can't believe it's true."

"It's true, all right.  When you feel stressed, talk to them, Jackson. Don't bottle up how you feel because you know what happens when you do that."

"I get wound up. Do stuff I shouldn't."

"That sounds a little bit familiar," Brad said, and Jackson could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'll try."

"Don't try. Make it happen," Brad ordered. "You're not creating any additional drama in that head of yours are you?"

"A little but I've caught myself and tried to stop."

"Good."

"See, I do listen to you, Brad."

"I know you do, I really do.  So, what's on the agenda for tonight?"

"We're going out to dinner. Some place they like that's on the water in Annapolis. They're going to teach me to pick crabs."

"That sounds like fun.  Are they waiting on you now?" Brad asked.

"They're downstairs while we talk. I'd probably better go."

"Ok, you go and have a good time.  Talk to them if you feel like you're over your head. Keep the door open."

"Ok, Brad.  Thanks."

"Take care, Jackson.  Call me tomorrow."

He hung up and went out to find Jonas and Taggert who had gone downstairs while they waited.  He easily found his way back to them in his new surroundings, and spotted them sitting on the leather furniture in the den off from the kitchen. 

"How did it go?" Jonas asked, switching off the TV.

"Good."

"I hope you're hungry then," Taggert stood from his seat, rubbing his hands together.  "We're off to have some of the best seafood in Maryland."

They put Jackson in the front seat again and they were soon back out on Route Two.  "Mike's is understated.  It's a pretty rugged sort of place but some of the best food around," Jonas told him.

Jonas had been right, Jackson noted when they arrived.  The restaurant was plainly decorated with what looked to be picnic tables throughout and covered, not with tablecloths, but with brown paper that might double for shipping paper. The windows lining the walls made up for the meager furnishings by giving the patrons a view of the water surrounding half the restaurant.  More tables were set up on the deck, their umbrellas folded protectively against the winter as they awaited the emergence of spring before they blossomed again.

"When it's warmer, we sit outside" Jonas explained.  "We'll have to settle for a table by the windows tonight. We can still see the water, though."

Jackson let his partners do the ordering since he didn't know where to begin when it came to fresh crabs.  The waitress came back shortly with tools to do the job, and Jackson gave his little mallet the once over.  "Do I smack them with this?  They *are* dead, right?"

"They're dead," Jonas laughed.  "You really only need to use the mallet on the claw."

The restaurant wasn't too crowded as they'd arrived before the dinner crowd.  Jackson tried not to stare as he subtly watched the few other patrons for crab picking tips.   He hated to be such a novice. After a while, the server returned and dumped a pile of steamed crabs atop the brown paper lining their table. 

"Ah," Taggert said, grabbing one of the crabs.  "Go ahead, Jackson, grab a crab."

Jackson reached over to the pile and selected one of the crabs, eying it uncertainly.  "This is weird."

"It's fun," Jonas said. "The first thing you want to do is twist the legs off."

"I eat the legs first?"

"You can eat what you want first," Jonas said. "I usually start with the body, and I like to get the legs out of my way."

"I'll eat anything that resembles crabmeat while I'm working on him," Taggert said, pulling a piece of crabmeat out of the claw he was holding. 

Jackson watched his lover's, who seemed like rational men on The Island, carnivorously tear the legs off their poor defenseless victims.  He grimaced then followed suit as they waited for him to give it a try.  He piled the amputations off to the side of the place in front of him and studied his fingers that were now covered in a reddish concoction that was all over the crabs.

"That's Old Bay," Taggert taught him. "It's a Maryland staple.  People here will put it on anything, including French fries. Taste it."

Jackson stared at his Old Bay covered fingers then slowly raised one to his lips, touching a fingertip uncertainly to his tongue.  His mouth exploded with a flavor he hadn't tasted before, and he detected a bit of celery seed amid the hot and spicy coating. 

He looked across the table and beside him as both Taggert and Jonas stared at him, eagerly awaiting his reaction.  His face heated up as their full attention was focused keenly on him.  "It's good," he reported, certain not to let them down.

Jonas was pleased. "It is good, isn't it?"

"It gets on your fingers then you get the flavor when you pick the crabmeat," Taggert said.   "Ok, now you turn the crab over. See this little thing?" Jackson watched as Taggert indicated a little flap-like extension lying flat against the belly of the crab.  "You flip it up then use it to pry the shell off."

Jackson found a matching piece on what looked to be a breastplate on his crab, then mimicked what Taggert directed.

"It's called the apron," Jonas said.  "Now that you have that off, you can take off the top part of the shell.  Like this."  Jonas peeled back the top of his shell and held the crab up for Jackson to see.  A ruffled bit of something lined the area beneath the shell and Jackson stared at it trying to figure out what the odd substance was. Jonas filled in the blanks.  "These are gills.  You take those out."

Jackson recoiled then caught himself as he plastered on an unreadable expression as Jonas showed him how to get rid of the gills.  Jackson picked up his own little knife that matched the one Jonas was using, and he grimaced as he scraped the feathered gills out of the body of his crab.  He won the battle with his gorge and chased it back down his throat before it could push its way into the open.  He forgot about the gills quickly when he ran across an odd yellowish substance. 

"That's the mustard," Taggert noted, pointing out the same in his opened crab.  "You want to get that out."

Jackson looked more closely.  It was the weirdest looking mustard he had ever seen.  "How did mustard get inside it?"

"It's crab crap," Jonas informed him. 

Jackson paused scraping the mustard out of the crab.  "Literally?"

"Yeah," Jonas said.  "You don't want to eat that."

Jackson instinctively pushed his crab away.  "I don't think I can eat this now."

"What's wrong?" Taggert asked him. "I thought you liked crab."

"I like beef, too, but I don't want to clean the cow carcass."

He felt a pang of guilt when he saw a look pass between his partners over the pile of fresh crabs in the center of the table.  Was it disappointment he saw?  Uncertainty?  Anger?

He immediately tried to salvage any damage. He was not disappointing them already! "I'm just kidding," he said, pulling the crab back to him.  "I'm willing to try it."  His stomach thought otherwise and did a retaliatory flip. 

"You don't have to eat it, Jackson," Taggert told him.  "We don't want you to eat something you don't want.  They have other food here."

"I don't want to waste it, and you want me to try it, so I'll try it."

"We aren't going to force you to eat this," Jonas said. "That's not how we operate and we wouldn't do that to you."

Jackson glanced down at the 'mustard' still visible inside the crab and his stomach lurched, and nudged him to decide against eating anything normally discarded.  "Maybe just the legs?"

"You eat what you want," Jonas said. "I guarantee you Taggert and I won't leave anything on the table, so there won't be any waste."

"Why don't we tag team it," Taggert said. "You eat the legs and we'll share the bodies."

"And the mustard," Jackson shuddered.  "I just can't get my head past that."

"You'll need the mallet for the claws," Jonas said. "Turn it on its side and smack it down the edge."

Jackson gave it a try and watched as the once-hard shell cracked under the pressure of the unassuming mallet. He pulled the meat out of the claw, gingerly, so that he got a big chunk, and he popped it into his mouth.  The flavor of the succulent crab intermingled with a kick of Old Bay, exploded in his mouth, raising a satisfied smile to his face.

"This is really good," he said, surprised he had so quickly overcome thoughts of crab crap and gills.

"Isn't it? We love it here," Jonas said. "You'll get a chance to try picking again, I'm sure."

He watched Taggert break the body in half after cleaning out the gills and mustard, the crab meat poking out from between the maze of the hard shell.  "It just looks like crab after you get all the gross stuff out of the way," Jackson observed.

Taggert passed him the crab he was getting ready to dig into.  "You want this one? It's all clean."

"You got all the crab crap out of it?" Jackson eyed the disemboweled crab suspiciously. "No gills or anything?"

"Totally clean," he promised, holding out the crab.  "Cross my heart."

Jackson looked at it and then hesitantly took it, inspecting it closely for any missed crap.  Deeming it sufficiently clean, he picked some meat out and tasted it.  He was relieved that he was able to put thoughts of crab innards out of his mind enough to enjoy the food.  The three of them quickly developed a system where Jonas or Taggert would get rid of anything Jackson found disgusting, and he took care of the rest, enjoying the crab dinner in spite of the rocky start to the meal.

Jackson tossed the last crab shell into the pile nearby, leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach.  "That was good," Jackson said, somewhat surprised at his change of opinion.  "I like this restaurant."

"We're glad you liked it," Jonas said, and Jackson felt a bit of relief at having pleased them.  "It's a favorite of ours, so it looks like Mike's will stay on the list of family places to eat."

Family.  Jackson could get used to that.  "I wasn't too sure about it at first, but I did like it."

"Are you guys ready to roll?" Taggert asked, wiping his mouth. 

"As soon as she comes back with my credit card," Jonas said, tapping his wallet that was one card lighter against the top of the table.

"Oh. I thought she had come back," Taggert commented.  "There she is."

Jonas signed the ticket and tucked his wallet back into his pants pocket.  "Now, I'm ready to roll."

~~~~~~

Jackson awoke the next morning, slowly opening his eyes a crack to let the morning light creep in.  They snapped open with at start as confusion set in like gangbusters as he looked around unusual surroundings.  Where was he? Was he still dreaming?  He sat straight up in the bed and remembered as recognition slowly set in.  He was in his new home, in a new bed, with new partners – he looked on either side of him.  New partners who were missing.  He pressed his fingertips into his tired eyes, blinked the fog away, and looked at the clock for about the hundredth time since he hit the sack: 8:35.  Brad would have had him up by now on a Monday, but he wasn't arguing.  He was still tired, probably from the excitement and the long trip.

He padded down the stairs to find his missing lovers, and the scent of fresh coffee met him before he reached the first floor.  He came around the corner of the stairwell, spotting his lovers lounging quietly, the television playing softly in the corner of the room.  Jonas and Taggert looked like matching bookends on the sofa, both deep in thought, coffee cups in hand, and newspaper spread out between them, each focused on their own section of the world and local happenings.

"Morning," Jackson interrupted.

Jonas folded the paper together in his lap and smiled. "Morning, sunshine."

"Morning," Jackson repeated, his voice still raspy from sleep.  He ran his fingers through his short hair, shaking out the dark tufts, rumpled from the night.

"Did you sleep ok?" Taggert asked, getting up and moving to meet him in the kitchen.

"Yeah. Like a rock," he stretched the truth smoothly.  It wasn't a total lie.  He had slept well, when he slept.  It was the nagging hours between sleep when he lay awake whenever either of his bed partners moved.  Going from sleeping alone to sleeping with two was going to take a little getting used to.  That, and a new bed.  It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, but it wasn't his own, not yet.

"You had a long day yesterday." He met Jackson with a kiss good morning and hugged him.  "Want some coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee would be good."  He followed Taggert into the kitchen and noticed the enormous coffee maker tucked back in the corner beside the refrigerator for the first time.  It was made of stainless steel, and spread about a foot wide, and at least that much tall.  A series of several buttons trailed across the front, above a twin spouts dangling underneath them.

Taggert snorted a chuckle at Jackson's incredulous expression.  "It's not as intimidating as it looks."

"That's not a Mr. Coffee."

"No, it's a Gaggia.  It's an espresso machine, actually.  Let me show you how this thing works."

"It's a coffee pot on steriods," Jackson commented.

"It's my baby," Taggert said.

Jonas joined them. "I could think of better things to do with the money that thing cost, but I have to admit, it's pretty nice.  It makes a great cup of coffee."

"He'd buy more TVs with the money," Taggert commented with a sideways glance at his partner.  Taggert put a cup under one of the spouts and hit a button.  Seconds later, Jackson was holding a fresh cup of coffee.

"You keep it stocked with beans in this compartment, and water here," Taggert showed him the reservoir in the back.  "It's always ready to go and fresh. There's a water filter in here."

"Cool."  Jackson sipped the black coffee then looked around, trying to be discreet. 

Taggert picked up on Jackson's search and took a guess.  "You need sugar or anything?  Creamer?" Taggert asked, opening a cabinet over the coffee maker.  "Here's some sweetener, sugar…"

"Creamer would be good."

Taggert pulled a plastic container of creamer out of the cabinet and passed it to Jackson, who added some to his coffee cup then looked around again.  Jonas opened a drawer and pulled out a spoon. "Spoon?"

"Yeah, thanks," Jackson said, committing the location of the silverware drawer to memory.  He repressed a sigh.  He had so much to get used to, even down to simple stuff like knowing where the damn spoons were!  No drama, he repeated to himself. No drama.

"So we have a lot to do today," Jonas commented.  "We need to go clothes shopping."

"Bike shopping," Taggert added.

"We need to see about getting you a Maryland driver's license at some point," Jonas said.  "You said you'd had one before, right?"

"Yeah, I used to," Jackson said, relieved that they had brought up the subject for him.  "I let it expire before I went to the Island."

"Letting it expire shouldn't be a problem in getting you a new one.  Losing it might have been."

"I didn't lose it. I had unloaded the car and my license was coming due for renewal about the time I was leaving, so it didn't make sense to renew it to me."

"Well, we'll head over to DMV today and get some info," Taggert said.

Jackson nervously chewed his lower lip. What if he couldn't get a license? How would he get around Maryland? What kind of public transportation did they have? Was there going to be a problem since he didn't have a license anymore? Would they question why and make it more difficult for him to get one?

Jonas pulled him close and kissed him.  "Stop worrying about it until you know there's something to worry about."

Had he said anything aloud? No, he was sure of it.  Were all Alphas mind-readers?  "I'm not worrying."

Jonas playfully swatted Jackson's butt.  "No lying around here. It's not allowed."

Jackson gave him a crooked smile.  "Sorry.  I guess I am worried a little."

"Why?"

"What if they won't give me a license?"

"I don't see why you wouldn't get one," Taggert stated. "You'll probably have to take a written test, maybe a driving test, too, but that won't be a problem.  We'll go down there and check it out."

"Yeah." Jonas took a sip of his coffee.  "But first we need to figure out a shower schedule to we can get a move on."

"You want to go first, Jackson?"

"I can," he said hesitantly. 

Jonas took Jackson's hand. "Is that ok with you? You don't have to go first.  It was just a suggestion."

"I just got my coffee," Jackson glanced at the cup in his hand.

"I didn't even think about that," Taggert laughed.  "Finish your coffee.  I can go first."

"Jackson and I can whip up something to eat while you shower," Jonas suggested. "How's that?"

"Works for me," Taggert said.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, Jackson went up the stairs to the bathroom off from the – their – master bedroom for his turn at the shower.  He opened one of the drawers in the bedroom, and was shocked to find his things weren't there, until he realized he was looking in the wrong place.  He checked another drawer and they were there, right where he had left them.  The feeling of being a guest rather than a resident hung around Jackson like a heavy cloak, and he tried to shake it from his shoulders.  There was so much to get used to! 

There wasn't much in the drawer, so it didn't take a lot of time to select an outfit.  He picked out a pair of jeans and the only other sweater he had, then went to the bathroom.  He had to figure out the shower faucet before he could just turn it on, but he quickly tackled the mechanics of it and started the water running so it could warm up.  He pulled his sleep shirt over his head and tossed it in the floor then snaked his pants off.  He had one foot in the shower before he realized he didn't have a towel.  Worse, he didn't know where they were.

He did a scan of the bathroom and didn't see a linen closet anywhere.  Who doesn't have a linen closet in the bathroom!  He looked at his naked self in the mirror and weighed the options of walking through house that way or taking a second to pull on his pants.  He settled on the latter then went back to the top of the stairs.

"Can one of you tell me where you hide the towels?" he yelled down to the first floor.

He heard footsteps on the risers followed by Jonas' appearance as he came around the right turn of the stairs.  "I'm sorry, babe.  We didn't think to remind you where they are. The linen closet is here in the hall."

He passed by Jackson with a squeeze to his arm and went directly to a closet right there in the hallway.  How had he missed that door!  It was so obviously a closet of some sort, given its narrow breadth compared to the bedroom doors.  But then even had he figured it out, he would have felt rude rummaging, just like a guest.  He tried to keep his shoulders from sagging with that last thought as he affixed a smiling mask on his face and took the towel Jonas handed him.

"Thanks."

"Yell if you need anything.  It won't take long before you'll be finding stuff around here without looking."

Jackson nodded and broadened the stiff smile.  "I know.  Be out in a sec."

He went back to the bathroom, stripped again and got in the shower.  The water was just right by the time he returned with the towel, and the hot water cascaded over his tight shoulders, massaging them loose with aquatic fingers as he thought about his new life.  It was only the first real day but he still hated feeling like a stranger in now his new home.  How long would it take for him to feel at home?  Soon, he hoped.  In the meantime, he was going to focus on keeping his nose clean and staying out of trouble.  He knew he could do it if he stayed focused.

After all, he had managed not to get into much trouble with Jonas and Taggert on their visits to The Island, to the point he had come to believe they brought out the best in him.  The most he had ever been punished by them was a mouth soaping, and that only happened once.  Even though perfection was out of reach, he was sure as hell going to keep leaning that way.  The fear of disappointing Jonas and Taggert was tangible, and Jackson vowed to himself to stay on top of his game.

He selected between two bottles of shower gel, one a simple bottle of Gillette for Men, and the other a higher-end product from some company Jackson had never heard of.  He studied the letters inscribed on the bottle and pronounced them to himself, determining they didn't look like they should go together to form a word.  He flipped the lid on the bottle of Kiehl's and raised it to his nose, inhaling the grapfuity scent: not exactly what he was used to, but a fresh smell Jackson could live with.  Someone apparently liked the good stuff, he thought, as he drizzled a blob of gel into his damp palm.

He wasn't too thrilled about spending the day at the mall but he could hardly wear his shorts in Maryland in February.  The cold had cut right through him when he was first exposed to the Maryland climate.  Quite a contrast to the balmy warm temperatures he had been used to for the last two years. Shopping was a chore he didn't relish, but it was going to be a necessary evil, whether he liked it or not.  He would manage.  His goal was to find the perfect outfits, clothes that would make Jonas and Taggert proud to be seen with him in.

He rinsed off and swept the water and wet hair out of his eyes then turned off the faucet. He had been comfortable in the house before he got wet, but now the temperature felt a few degrees too cool as the warmth of the water was stolen away with the shutting off of the taps.  He stepped out of the shower stall, and the temperature was colder still, raising goosebumps instantly all over his body.  He closed the shower door, noticing a small squeegee propped on the little shelf in the corner of the stall that he hadn't seen before. 

Did they use that every time or just when they cleaned the bathrooms?  Had Taggert squeegeed the shower stall when he was finished earlier?  Was it clean when Jackson got in?  He couldn't remember for the life of him.  He sighed and cursed his short-term memory and lack of attention to detail. It didn't matter, he suddenly realized.  He was going to use the squeegee and clean the stall, whether they did it after every shower or not.  It was an opportunity to impress either way, by living up to their set standards or surprising them with those of his own. 

He stepped back into the wet shower stall and grimaced against the skim of water puddled in the shower floor that had already started to cool; his damp skin was doing the same.  He shivered as his flesh contracted against the cold as he quickly ran the rubber edge of the squeegee down the glass of the shower.  He finished, happy with his cleaning job, and left the shower for the second time to finish drying off.  

He slipped on a sweater and jeans to go on a perfectly normal shopping trip with his partners.  Hopefully, he wouldn't come up null in his efforts to expand his meager wardrobe.  It was going to be a fruitful shopping trip, he assured himself.  He was going to find the perfect clothes, no doubt about it.  Jonas and Taggert were never going to guess that Jackson hated to shop.  Never.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"You can't keep wearing the same clothes," Taggert said firmly.  "We're going back to the mall and we're not leaving until we find some new outfits for you today."

Jackson's face fell into a frown as he mulishly pushed his eggs around his plate, cooling as quickly as the air at sunset in a Maryland winter.  "I can't help it that I couldn't find anything the last time."

"The last couple times," Taggert corrected.  "We're going to see if we can't do better this time."

We?  Jackson knew he meant "you".  It had only been two weeks since Jackson moved in, but that was two weeks too long to live off a couple winter outfits.  "I'll find something this time."

Jonas smeared some grape jelly over his toast.  "That's the spirit.  Just remember what we told you: it doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to like it."

But it did need to be perfect!  Jackson mutely nodded, keeping that idea to himself.  He had to be able to find something, he just had to.  Jonas and Taggert had to be losing patience by now.  After the second trip to the mall, Jackson had reluctantly admitted he wasn't the best of shoppers; neither man looked especially surprised at the newsflash.  Two shopping trips with nothing to show for it should be enough to convince any man of that fact, even if he bore only a rudimentary level of intelligence.

After breakfast, they headed out on a repeat mission to the mall to find winter clothes.  Three times was going to be the charm, Jackson declared to himself, as Jonas pulled into a space in front of Nordstrom. 

Taggert closed the back door of the car after he stepped out.  "We should hit a few of these stores again, see if we missed anything. Banana Republic, Abercrombie, Nordstrom. Ok with you, Jackson?"

"Yeah.  I just hope I find something I like this time.  I never shopped much before I went to The Island."

Jonas pocketed the keys.  "Well, those two sweaters aren't going to go much farther at this rate.  I think the cuffs are already starting to fray."

"They are not." Jackson cut a glance playfully at Jonas.

"Maybe not yet," he said.  "You might want some sweats, too, while we're looking."

"Do they have The Gap?" Jackson wondered. "I don't remember seeing it and I used to like some of their stuff.  The jeans."

"They do, don't they Taggert? How did we miss that?"

"I'm pretty sure they do.  Oh, and if we're still in here by lunch, we should eat at California Pizza Kitchen."

"How did we manage to come here the last few times and not be near lunch or dinner?" Jonas asked.

"I have no idea. We usually plan better than that."

Jackson spied the bright yellow awning of the restaurant to the left of the Nordstrom entrance. "I haven't eaten there before."

"There are other places we can go," Taggert backed up. "We don't have to go there if you don't want to."

"No, I like pizza. I've just never had theirs."

"We like it. They have good salads, too, and cheap wine."

They laboriously repeated the job of filing through the racks in Nordstrom, Jackson passing over sweater after sweater, shirt after shirt, an instant replay of the last two shopping trips. 

An hour later, Jonas held up a dark blue sweater with flecks of gold and green intertwined.  "How about this one?"  Jackson glanced at it indifferently and shook his head.  "What's wrong with it this time?" Jonas asked, his voice tightly controlled.

"I don't like the flecks."

Taggert leaned wearily on the rim of the circular rack, his back already protesting another day spent on his feet.  "Jackson, you've tried on at least twenty outfits and haven't liked a thing.  I can't believe not a single one of them worked.  I liked that yellow sweater with the navy pants."

"It didn't fit right.  I can't help it that I didn't like it."  Jackson sliced through another small section of the rack and crossed his arms in a huff.  "I'm just not finding anything I like."

"There are only so many styles," Jonas pointed out.  "Maybe it's sweaters you don't like.  Did you not like the ones we bought for you, either?"

"I *do* like those, I just don't like any I'm finding today, ok? They don't fit right, they don't look right, the colors are wrong…"

Jonas and Taggert looked at each other and Taggert shrugged helplessly.  Jonas put his hands on his hips and expelled a weary sigh. "Let's just try another store. I think we've done all the damage we can do at Nordstrom."

Jackson gave the two men a mutinous glare.  They were annoyed and it was all his fault, he just knew it.  "I can't help it that I'm not good at shopping.  I never have liked it, and I told you I don't."

"You don't have a lot of choice, Jackson," Taggert turned him by the elbow toward the main aisle of the store.  "You can't wear shorts in Maryland in February and we aren't going to blindly buy your winter wardrobe for you."

Jackson jammed his fists into his jeans pockets as they walked, his face etched in an angry scowl.  It wasn't his fault that he was no good at shopping! Despite what people thought about gay men being good with fashion, Jackson just didn't fit the stereotype.  And why weren't Jonas and Taggert better at helping him?! Were all three of them dysfunctional in the fashion department?  He glanced at each one of them out of the corner of his eye.  No, they weren't at all inept at shopping.  Clearly, his partners knew how to put together a decent outfit, which made it even more important that Jackson know how to do it! They both looked amazing no matter what they were wearing, and he needed to do the same.

They *were* amazing. Too amazing.  Jackson reminded himself of his goal not to mess up, and he checked his surging temper.  It was heating up nicely, and Jackson cautiously turned down the burners.  He was not going to blow his cool or his relationship.  No.  He was not going to lose it and piss off his partners any more than they already were.

He inhaled deeply and let out his breath as they passed by California Pizza Kitchen.  As an unintentional bonus, his nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh basil, oregano, and garlic as the restaurant geared up for the impending lunch crowd that would descend in another hour or so. 

It was after one by the time they had finished scouring two more stores, still with nothing in hand.

"You said you liked Gap.  Let's see if we can find it and go in there."  Taggert turned left out of Abercrombie and headed in the general direction of the store directory so they could pinpoint the elusive store.

They walked into The Gap, and Jonas wandered over to a rack of rugbys.  "How about this? It's not a sweater." He held up a blue and black striped shirt with a white-collar trim. 

"I don't know," Jackson answered indifferently.

"Will you at least try it on?" Jonas asked, giving the hanger in his hand a mildly irritated flick of the wrist.

Jackson shrugged. "I guess, but I don't think I'll like it."

"Jackson--," Jonas said through clenched teeth.

"Well, I don't."

"You need pants, too," Taggert interrupted, holding up a pair of new khakis.

Jackson huffed in disgust and scrunched his nose at the sight of the pants.  "I don't care if I never wear a pair of khakis again."

"Jeans, then," Jonas said, nearing exasperation. "You said you liked Gap jeans."

Jackson held up a pair of jeans he found folded in the bins aligning the walls, and shook his head sadly.  "I liked them before I left. They changed the style since I was here before."

"Jackson." Taggert crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.  "Are you trying to be difficult about this? This is our third trip out to the mall to find some clothes and you manage to find more fault than possibilities."

Jackson shuffled from foot to foot and absently slid a hanging shirt along the rack beside him.  He was fucking up, he could feel it, but he could also feel he was powerless to stop it.  "No."

Jonas and Taggert exchanged a helpless look.  "What is it then?  You know you have to get some winter clothes."

"I don't *know*, all right?" Jackson barked.  "I'm just not the shopping type, I told you."

"Calm down," Jonas intervened.  "Talk to us."

"Well, you're both annoyed and I can't help it that I don't like any of this Maryland crap they call clothes!"  The words bowled out of Jackson's mouth before he could stop them. 

"Cut it out, Jackson," Taggert warned.  "It's not Maryland crap.  Even if it were, it's where you live now, so you'd better get used to the crap we call clothes."

Jackson leaned against a supporting column in the store and crossed his arms, caging his fears of inadequacy and failure.  He had done it.  In just shy of two weeks, he had done it.  He had managed to irritate both his partners in one fell swoop.  He was sure they were already questioning their decision to commit to him, they had to be. Why couldn't he just pick something out and let it go!  Would it really matter in the long run if he liked it or not, or if they did?  But then, why were they being so pushy about Jackson finding something? Why did they care if he wore the same clothes until they were threadbare?  It was his decision, wasn't it?

"Just take me home," he said frigidly. "I'm not buying anything, and I'm sick of looking."

Taggert calmly took him by the elbow and pulled him upright away from his leaning spot.  "No.  We're not doing that."

"You can't make me pick something out," Jackson challenged.

Taggert realized that Jackson was dead right.  They couldn't make him like anything, and wouldn't if they could.  Otherwise, they would have finished this chore with the first trip to the mall a week and a half ago.  What they *did* expect was for him to be respectful and try to find something, not dig in his heels and make a conscious decision to be difficult, and that was exactly how it was beginning to look.

"No, we can't," Jonas spoke Taggert's thoughts.  "What we can do is expect your cooperation." 

Jackson studied the floor as he listened, his face still tight with resistance.  He couldn't shake it!  He knew he was being a problem, but couldn't stop for the life of him.  Too bad, he decided.  This was who he was and they could damn well get used to it! 

"I'm sick of this," Jackson grumbled, his dark eyes smoldering.  "You keep looking if you want.  I'll find a place to sit while you finish your shopping."

"Whoa. It isn't our shopping," Jonas said.  "It's yours and we need to find some clothes for you."

"Well, I'm hungry," Jackson tossed out.  "I can't shop while I'm hungry."

"Jackson—" Taggert started, his teeth barely parting to utter the single word.

"I'm going to find something to eat and meet you later." Jackson turned toward the door of the store, anxious to escape the disapproving expressions of his partners.  He barely lifted a foot before his name was called out and the sleeve of his jacket got snagged in someone's grip.

"Jackson!" It was Jonas' voice, and it was note or two lower than usual, laced with an unmistakable warning tone.

Jackson halted immediately but was much slower in pirouetting to face Jonas and Taggert.  He dropped his eyes and tried to ward off the displeasure he could feel oozing from his partners.  Apparently, they didn't take too kindly to Jackson leaving them to eat on his own.

Taggert reached forward and tugged at Jackson's wrist, pulling him further back inside the store.  "Give us a second, Jackson.  You stay right there."

Jackson watched as the two of them huddled head-to-head discussing the situation, just outside the store.  There were enough Saturday shoppers milling about that he couldn't hear a thing, no matter how hard he worked on it.  He tried not to be too curious, but couldn't help studying their faces to determine what they might be thinking or saying, but he was disappointed to see that they were not animated at all.  Whatever they were saying, it was going to stay a mystery to him.

He couldn't believe he had blown it already!  It only took two weeks!  He damned his temper, damned his indecisiveness, and damned his hatred for shopping.  Well, he determined, they might as well know him for who he was right out of the gate, if they wanted him, they were going to have the real him.  This *was* who he was, damn it!  And he was sick and tired of being dragged around the stupid mall, not once but three times!  It was not his fault that nothing looked good on, nothing felt right! Either the sleeves were too long, the color was all wrong, the pants too long…!  The more he thought about being made to shop, the more frustrated he got. 

His hot temper dropped a degree or so when he saw the two of them give each other a short nod of agreement then turn his way. Here it came. The bomb.  They both wore similar somber expressions and Jackson felt a jolt of panic.  Were they going to spank him?  Had he acted that badly?  In retrospect, he realized that yes, perhaps he had.  He knew what Brad would have done, without a doubt, but he didn't have the luxury of knowing Jonas and Taggert well enough to make that prediction. 

At the very thought of getting spanked as a possibility, his roaring temper settled down to nothing more than a tendril or two of smoke, and he swallowed on a throat of cotton.  He knew it would happen sooner or later, but he was really banking on later.  In fact, he had bet the whole wad on it.  Week two and he was getting spanked?  What happened to perfection?! 

Which one was going to do it, he wondered as he watched them come back into the store.  He looked from one to the other, nervous to hear their verdict, yet needing to know it, seriously hoping he was wrong about what their decision was on how to handle the situation.  How many times had Brad reminded him he wasn't a mind reader?  He sighed nervously. He hoped Brad had been right.

Taggert started talking first.  "Ok, Jackson.  Here's the deal.  You don't have to buy a whole winter wardrobe today, but we're not leaving here until we have at least two outfits for regular wear and one for lounging.  That is not unreasonable."

"It is if you can't find anything," Jackson rebelled, his mouth overtaking his brain in the race of sanity, pulling out a few car lengths ahead.

"They don't have to be perfect," Jonas added, ignoring the comment, "but we want two tops and two bottoms on the regular outfits and a set for knock-abouts.  You either pick them out or we will."

"You have two more hours to find something after we eat, or we do the shopping for you."

That was it?  Couldn't be.  Jackson's eyes narrowed.  "And what else?"

"And we'll talk about your temper and trying to walk off when we get home," Jonas told him. 

So, there was punishment on the way.  They hadn't said what they were going to do to him, but it didn't take much imagination to figure that one out.  Part of their plan was obviously to torture him through shopping, and make him wait, leaving him to wonder what his punishment would be. 

"Now that we have that taken care of, do you want California Pizza Kitchen or something else?" Taggert asked.

"Pizza is fine," a more subdued Jackson answered.  He was suddenly not hungry in the least, wishing to be able to start the day over, at least the shopping portion. Not that he wanted more time to shop, he just wanted less time to let it get to him so he could correct the damage.

"There's a food court at the other end of the mall if you'd rather check that out," Jonas offered.

"No, pizza is fine. Really." The more accommodating he could be the better.  He had caused enough trouble for one day.  Things had been going so well, too!  He hadn't meant to irritate Jonas and Taggert, but he had done it as easily as though he'd practiced it.

Taggert smiled at him and turned him with a squeeze to the back of his neck.  "Stop worrying.  It's ok, Jackson.  We're going to focus and get this done."

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one struggling to find something he liked while managing to piss off his partners all at the same time.  He just wanted to find the perfect clothes, make them proud to show him off as their new partner.  Whatever he picked out had to be just right!  Now he had even more pressure with the two outfit purchase edict before they could leave.  Jackson felt the weight of the world settle heavily around him.

Jonas and Taggert carried the lunch conversation as Jackson worked to convince his stomach to hang onto the margarita pizza he threw into it.  He couldn't believe he had messed up so badly and so soon.  On top of that, he was going to get spanked, he just knew it.  It wasn't like he hadn't been spanked before, but it had never been by Jonas or Taggert.  His mind drifted back to that first time with Brad.  It was always embarrassing but the first time stood out as being worse for some reason. 

He had messed up a lot more during his first two weeks on The Island, but then he wasn't trying to impress anyone then.  All he was worried about at the time was trying to fit in, and he did a miserable job.  Some things never changed.

"Don't you think so, Jackson?"

"Huh?" Jackson looked up to see Taggert waiting for an answer across the table from him.

"You're a million miles away," Taggert noted as he took a drink of his iced tea.  "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing?" Jackson replied guiltily.

"Dish, Jackson.  No secrets, remember?"

"It's not important."

Jonas elbowed him and leaned over, speaking just above a whisper.  "Doesn't matter," he winked. "We want to know anyway."

He was so cute with his boyish grin, Jackson couldn't help but give in.  "I was just thinking about The Island."

"What in particular?" Taggert pushed.

Jackson mulled over the question, not wanting to be entirely forthcoming, but knowing he had to answer with something.  "What it was like when I first got there."

Silence followed the single sentence as Jonas and Taggert processed the information.  "Jackson," Jonas said with empathy as two and two came together.  "We're going to have a few bumps in the road. Every day isn't going to be sunshine and roses, it's not in any relationship.  We'll get through the tough days together.  Ok?"

Jackson took a deep breath and nodded.  "Ok."

"It will be fine.  I promise." 

Jackson nodded again wordlessly, then flashed an almost natural smile.  "I know. I'm fine."

Taggert gave Jonas a worried glance before he spoke.  "Well.  Ready to finish that shopping then?" He slipped his credit card back into his wallet and slid from the booth, trailed by his partners.

After another hour and several reminders not to look for perfection, Jackson managed to find the mandated two complete daily outfits plus a lounging one, and even completed the ensembles with two pair of new shoes.  Despite feeling rushed and disappointed with his choices, he was delighted that he purchased something under the two-hour deadline with time to spare.  He hoped he at least managed to mitigate some of the damage he had done earlier.

They were on their way out of the mall through Nordstrom when Jonas stopped just inside the store entrance.  "Oh!  He needs some Uggs."

"What is an 'Ugg'?" Jackson asked suspiciously.

"Australian for 'really cool boots'," Jonas said with a nod toward a display. "We have some for inside the house and outside. Your feet won't get cold in them."

"Do you feel like checking them out?" Taggert asked him.  "You don't have to.  You've got what we said you had to have, and I know you don't like to shop."

Considering he had already disappointed them that day, not to mention that they were headed home to "talk", Jackson was suddenly eager to find out what an "ugg" really was.  "Sure."

"Here they are." Jonas plopped the bags he was hauling onto the floor, and picked up a pair of the sheepskin shoes, selecting a medium length boot in chocolate. "These would look great with the jeans and brown sweater you picked out."

A man in a suit approached them as Jackson picked up a low-top boot with the fur-lining folded over the top edge.  "Could I help find a size for you?" the salesman asked.

"Nine."  Jonas handed him the chocolate boot and added, "and in some slippers, too, please.  A couple different colors."

"Do you want one of that style?" Taggert asked as Jackson studied the pair in his hands.

"No, I like the ones Jonas has."

Minutes later he was slipping his foot into an Ugg boot and his sole sank into the fur-lined shoe as he stood up to test it out.  "Wow. These are comfortable."

"Aren't they?  You like them?"  Taggert poked at the toe of Jackson's boot with his thumb, and found Jackson's big toe.  "Is the fit ok?"

Jackson bounced on one booted foot and felt for anything out of sorts.  "Yeah, it fits fine."

The sales clerk held up the other boot.  "Want to try both on?"

Jackson eagerly discarded his Nike and slipped his foot into the other boot, then walked across the sales floor.  "You were right. These really are great."

"We love ours.  Do you like the color?" Jonas held up a pair in camel.  "There's this color and then the black."

"No, I like these brown ones for every day wear."

"How about the slippers?" Taggert pulled the lid off another shoe box.  "Want to try these?"

By the time they were finished, Jackson was walking out of Nordstrom wearing his new Uggs and wondering why everything hadn't been so easy to pick out that day.  Maybe if he had paid more attention to the clothes Jonas and Taggert had suggested, the day wouldn't have been so bad.  He kicked himself for being such a horse's ass.  When would he learn?

"We ended up with more shoes than outfits," Jonas laughed, as he lugged two bags of purchases.  "We should have made him buy four outfits, Taggert."

Taggert chuckled.  "Two is a start."

They piled the bags into the car then headed for home.  Jackson's stomach did a flip flop as he remembered the impending talk awaiting him.  He was quiet on the ride back, speaking when spoken to but not much else.  He couldn't bring himself to ask outright what they were going to do now that the torture by shopping part of his punishment was over.  Whatever it was, it would be over pretty soon; the mall was not that far from their house.

Jackson was filled with dread at the thought of getting out of the car when they pulled into the driveway, but he knew he had to go.  Part of him was relieved that they were going to punish him, not that he was looking forward to it at all.  He was carrying more guilt than shopping bags, and he knew it would take that to feel better for ruining their day.  He opened the door then followed Jonas up the garage steps as Taggert brought up the rear. 

When they reached the stairwell, Taggert took him by the shoulders from behind and turned him toward the basement steps.  "Let's go down to the office and talk about today."

So they were really going to do it; they were going to spank him. The office was the place where they said they'd do it, and Taggert wanted to go to the office.  He deserved it, he thought ruefully.  He had been horrible that morning to both of them, wasted almost an entire day by trying too hard.  Jackson went down the stairs and turned toward the office, stopping just outside the door, not sure what to do or expect.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Jonas had come down as well. Neither man looked aggravated any longer, but they sure had been before lunch.  He wished he could take it all back and start the day over.  "I'm sorry about today, I really am. I was frustrated because I couldn't find anything."

"We know.  Go on."  Taggert motioned toward the office, and they all went inside.  He turned the office chair away from the desk, offering it to Jackson.  "Have a seat."

Jonas sat in the armchair across the room and Taggert sat on the arm of it.  "When you're frustrated, what do you need to do?"

Jackson looked at his hands in his lap. He knew the answer to this one. It was the universal response to Alphas all over the world who asked that question. Yet, he hadn't been able to remember it or live by it when he needed to earlier in the mall.  "Talk to you," he answered quietly.

Jonas said, "At no time do we expect you to lash out at us when you're frustrated.  Or stalk away."

Jackson blinked in confusion.  He knew he had been an ass, but he hadn't stalked anywhere, had he?  "I didn't stalk away, though."

"You were trying to, and you would have if we hadn't stopped you," Jonas reminded him.  Jackson looked back down; that was true.  "We'll get frustrated, even mad at each other, but we'll always treat you with respect and we expect the same in return.  Storming off without resolving things won't be tolerated."

Taggert got up and pulled a familiar book off the shelf and thumbed through it.  "This isn't new territory for you, either, according to Brad's notes in your punishment book."

It certainly wasn't. Jackson had written enough lines on the subject to fill a book, not to mention the times he was shown the error of his ways on his bare behind when he had carried it too far or slipped off to the falls.  "No, sir," he sighed.

"So, we're going to find some lines that you've written before and you're going to write them some more as a reminder," Taggert declared.

No spanking? That's not the route Brad would have taken most likely, would he?  The fact that he had fully expected to get spanked, answered his own question.  "Ok," he said uncertainly.

Jonas added, "The part that really did it for me was you planning to walk away.  That is simply not going to fly.  It's against the rules to run away, and you know that."

"I know.  It's number 402," Jackson muttered.

"No, it's number one of 402," Taggert teased mildly before turning serious again.  "We're in this together and we will not, under any circumstances, abide by you taking off in any form or fashion.  If you need space, you say that and we'll talk about the best way to deal with it."

"Taking off when you're mad is a tantrum in my book, and we're not going to stand for that, either," Jonas added. 

Taggert found a blank page in Jackson's lines book and laid the notebook on the desk.  "And just so there's no confusion, the next time you do it, you'll be spanked."

And there it was.  Jackson knew that going AWOL was against the rules, but he didn't realize storming out of the store – or stalking, or attempting to -  would count the same.  He'd be over Brad's lap right then just for his attitude earlier, he was pretty sure of it.  Jonas and Taggert's definition of running off was slightly different than Brad's, and Jackson made a mental note of that.  Considering how they viewed what he had done made him feel that much worse.  It wasn't that he was being a jerk, he had broken the godfather of all rules in their book.  Yet, he still wasn't getting spanked, not this time, not for walking off or having a tantrum.

Jonas said, "You won't get spanked just for running off. Tantrums of any sort, as well as walking out, running off, whatever form that takes, will be a spankable offense from this point forward."

"Ok."

Taggert tapped the notebook on an open page with a neatly scrawled sentence printed at the top.  "Twenty-five times to help you remember to make better choices."

Jackson looked at the line and groaned to himself. He didn't need to read the whole thing to know what it said.  "It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices."  He had probably written it 4000 times in two years, give or take. The wonder of how many times he had been in this position before left him even more surprised that he wasn't in deeper trouble.  Jonas and Taggert had to know.  It was all in his punishment book. 

"And there's one other thing," Jonas added, and Jackson steeled himself.  He knew it couldn't be as simple as lines.  "You're going to bed an hour early tonight.  You haven't been sleeping well, and that might have added to things."

"An hour!" Jackson blurted before he could stop himself. "But that's nine o'clock!"

"That's right," Jonas unflinchingly replied. 

"But that's too early." Jackson grimaced at the whine he heard in his voice. 

"Want to make it 8:30?"

Jackson scowled as Jonas' eyebrow crawled his forehead. What was it with Alphas and eyebrows!  Brad did the same thing, and he had seen virtually every Alpha on The Island - coming, going or residents - do it at some point or other. 

He knew the look, and reminded himself that he deserved whatever he got, no matter how much he hated it, and he seriously hated early bedtime.  He deserved it and more.  "No, sir," he answered.

"Good.  You get started on your lines then."

Jackson took the notebook and settled down at the desk to get his punishment over with. He couldn't believe it.  He had worked so hard at not messing up over the last two weeks, he had fooled himself into thinking it couldn't happen.  He had to get on top of things again before Jonas and Taggert decided they had bitten off more than they could chew and tossed him back to The Island, like a fish they had caught that they decided against. 

He felt a glimmer of hope since they didn't seem especially mad, even though they had every right to be. They even stayed in the room while he wrote, quietly offering their support by being there even as Jackson laboriously scribbled the two lines over and over. He glanced over his shoulder at them once, and Taggert caught his eye and smiled.  They were too good to be true.  He concentrated hard on what he was writing, making sure to get it right, while Taggert read a book and Jonas worked a crossword. 

When he finished a half hour later, he walked across the room and handed Jonas the notebook.  "There.  All done."

Jonas counted out the lines then pulled Jackson to him in a hug. "Good job."

Taggert followed suit and added a peck on the lips.  "No more tantrums or stalking out.  Got it?"

Even though they appeared to have forgiven him, Jackson still shouldered a heavy weight of guilt. "Yes, sir.  I'm sorry about today.  I really messed things up."

"Today was a blip on the radar, not a torpedo," Taggert assured him, cupping Jackson's face in his hands, "and we took care of it.  We know it's been a lot for you to take in, a lot of change.  You're probably feeling a little overwhelmed."

Jackson took a deep breath and nodded.  "Ok. If you say so."

"I say so."

"You know what we need?" Jonas interjected.  "Fresh air.  We should all go on a hike through the nature preserve this afternoon. We can show you some of our favorite trails, and burn off some of that stress at the same time."

Jackson looked at Jonas warily.  "The fresh air is really cold, though."

"It's in the mid-thirties," Jonas said. "Not bad with a coat and gloves on once your heart rate gets up a little."

"Um… mid-thirties isn't even on the thermometer on The Island."

"We'll come back if you get too cold," Jonas laughed.

"I told you," Taggert said to Jackson. "He's a freak about hiking. It really is beautiful out there, though."

"Aren't you glad you picked sweats for your loungewear?"

"I should have bought longjohns."

"You won't need them. I promise." Jonas kissed him then pushed him toward the stairs. "We have extra gloves, too."

Jackson donned his Uggs and sweat pants, and eagerly accepted the gloves Taggert offered him.  The air was still and crisp outside, and he tugged his coat tightly around him.

"It's freezing."

Taggert looked overhead at the smooth cloud-covered sky.  "It looks like snow."

"Feels like it, too," Jonas added. 

"What does snow feel like?" Jackson asked.  "We didn't exactly see it in my part of Florida."

"The air gets really still," Jonas explained.  "Think the opposite of a thunder storm where everything is brewing and angry.  Before snow, the air is silent.  Like it's waiting for something to happen."

Jackson paid attention to his surroundings and realized the only sounds he could hear were those of their feet on the sidewalk.  "Is it cold enough to snow?"

"It's actually perfect for snow.  I didn't check the weather report, did you, Jonas?"

"Nope, I didn't."

Taggert took a turn down a wooded pathway, plunging them from the urban neighborhood right in the center of the wild.  "It's hard to believe this is here.  All these trails are pretty cool," Jackson said. 

"We still need to get you a bike," Jonas said.  "We walk the trails, bike the trails." 

"We have several paths we like. There's one we can take you to today that goes around a pond.  There are ducks and other wildlife in that area."

They walked the gamut of sidewalks, paved trails and dirt trails before they were ready to head back, and Jackson found that he actually did warm up enough to tolerate the February outdoors.  His favorite path was a black-topped one, but it took twists and turns deep into the woods that left him feeling just as isolated and in tune with nature as a dirt trail would have.  The trees were long stripped of their leaves, the brown dead foliage lay across the pathway, some piled at the sides where many neighborhood feet had brushed them aside.  A squirrel sat at the edge of the path, clutching an acorn that he kept protectively close to his chest before dashing back into the woods to hide it from the three human intruders. 

"Did you see the squirrel?" Jackson asked.

"I heard him take off," Jonas said. "Sometimes, you'll see deer out here, too."

"Are your feet still warm?" Taggert asked him.

"Yeah, these Uggs are great. My feet are toasty warm." A tuft of white ice dropped heavily out of the gray sky in front of Jackson, and his eyes widened.  "Snow!"

"Is it?" Taggert asked, scanning the horizon for evidence when two flakes fell in his path.  "It sure is."

"Who needs the weatherman?" Jonas joked as the snow started falling more heavily. 

Jackson beamed as snow began to swirl around him.  He jutted a gloved palm out, and captured one lone flake, which disappeared almost instantly into a tiny puddle of moisture before his eyes.  "It's beautiful."

"I love the snow," Jonas said. "It's so pretty."

"I like to watch it fall, but I don't like shoveling it," Taggert said.  He couldn't help but enjoy the snow, seeing the glee on Jackson's face as he captured another falling snowflake.

"It melts almost right away," he observed.

"It probably won't stick to the roads much," Jonas told him.  "We'd better head back or we'll get soaked."

"Walk slow," Jackson ordered. 

It was the prettiest sight he had ever seen.  The snow fell silently, starting to coat the ground before they were even halfway home.  Little mounds of snow collected on top of individual leaves and blades of grass, the brown earth still showing through wherever there was a gap in the foliage.

A pure layer of white covered the ground when they arrived back home, and despite the cold, Jackson didn't want to go in.  He could easily ignore his rosy nose and cheeks to spend more time in the falling snow.

"What do you say we change into some dry clothes, make some hot chocolate, then sit in that living room we never use and watch the snow fall?" Taggert recommended.

Minutes later they were huddled together on the living room sofa, hot cocoa in hand and hunkered under a warm afghan.  The snow was so white, so pure, so new.  Just like his relationship.  It was a beautiful start.