Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

Michaels noticed Judge had ditched the leathers for black fatigue pants and a black t-shirt. His gold bounty hunter’s star was back around his neck. Gone was the loving son, back was the cold, stubborn, heartless Judge that he’d come to know. “Nothing,” Michaels answered Judge. He turned back to Judge, Sr. “Again, thank you for the hospitality.”

Judge, Sr. held out his hand and it shook so badly he could barely hold it up. He saw the sadness in the old man’s eyes. “Parkinson’s,” Michaels said softly, grasping Judge, Sr.’s hand in both of his, holding it tight.

Judge, Sr. solemnly nodded his head but he didn’t talk, maybe he couldn’t right then.

Michaels squeezed a little tighter and the man looked up at him in surprise. Like he appreciated Michaels not treating him like a fragile piece of China. “Take care, Sir.” He let his hand go slowly and turned to leave.

“Be safe out there, son.”

Michaels looked up at Judge as he was leaving. “I was talking to you, Austin.”

Michaels and Judge both turned to look at his father. “Yes, Sir,” was all he could get out. His throat was tight. Judge, Sr. had called him son. In front of his son. It may have been nothing, but the look Judge gave him… it was something.

Chapter Twenty

Judge watched Michaels hold his dad’s hand like he was special. Saw him look him in his eyes and wish him well. It was probably safe to say that Michaels wouldn’t see his father alive again. Judge had a feeling Michaels knew it too, the way he quietly spoke his father’s disease into the air. Somehow Michaels had said goodbye to his father without making it sound hurtful or morbid and he appreciated it more than he could voice.

Judge was still standing in the door when Michaels walked over to him. He needed to move, should move, but he didn’t. He could smell him; smell the clean, handsome scent that was so attractive to him. Michaels had several scents. He’d also liked the way he’d smelled last night after his fight. The heady scent of his anger and bitterness, the tangy taste of his rage when he’d licked his neck. He had a different scent when he’d surrendered himself to him last night. Oh god. It smelled alluring and addictive. Judge just wished he could’ve been in that room this morning when Michaels woke up smelling just like him.

Michaels stepped in closer, tilting his head just slightly to look in Judge’s eyes. They watched each other for a few seconds but Judge didn’t know what was being exchanged between them. When Michaels put his palm on the flat of Judge’s hard stomach, he gasped at the heat. His cheek grazed the side of his beard when he leaned in and spoke in a soothing tone. “Take your time. I’ll be out front.”

Judge nodded once. That sure hand slipped away and Judge closed his eyes. What the hell was he getting himself into? He knew the rules. Just follow the fuckin’ rules, Judge. Don’t get suckered back—.

“Son.”

Judge startled, opening his eyes. He tried to sound upbeat when he responded, “Hey, Pop. How are you feeling now?”

“Son.” His father looked at him with watery eyes. “Don’t push this one away, Son. He’s good for you. Strong and confident… just like you.”

“Dad. I’m not doing that again.” Judge shook his head firmly. He wouldn’t, couldn’t. Next time, it’d kill him.

His dad gripped his hand tightly, tighter than he had in months. “He’s not like Brent, JJ.”

“Don’t,” Judge growled. He didn’t want his dad mentioning that name. No one mentioned that name. The name of the one man that held his heart and then died and took it to the grave with him.

“You don’t. Don’t give up, JJ. Austin is here. Here now, with you. I know if you touch his heart, there’s nothing he won’t do for you.”

“Will he live forever?” Judge whispered, standing to go to the window. He couldn’t breathe. Why was his father doing this? After all this time. They should be talking about things that mattered right then. As much as Judge hated to admit it, they didn’t have much time left. He wouldn’t waste their precious moments talking about a ten-year-old ghost or useless attempts at new love.

“He’s a fighter, son.”

“Who you telling? He’s a tomcat.” Judge pffted.

“Yes, I do like him.” Judge, Sr. smiled fondly.

Judge shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you, Pop. This guy comes in here for twenty-four hours and you try to convince me he’s my goddamn soul mate. I probably could’ve brought RuPaul in here and you’d tell me to go for it.”

“Don’t be a wiseass,” his dad snapped.

Judge put his hands up in placation. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. You want to see me settled down before you… before….”