Contact

He brushed a slip of black hair behind his ear before reaching out for the bottle of nail polish. “Do you think the color will look good with this?” the bride asked softly as she motioned to her smoky, subtle makeup. The boy smiled warmly. “It’ll look fantastic. I’m wearing this color right now, see?” he splayed his fingers for her, and she smiled at the dark silvery grey color. A little drab for a wedding, but this was a winter affair and would go perfectly with the bride’s paler complexion and dark hair.
Unscrewing the cap, Archer cupped the woman’s heel in his palm and began painting her dainty toenails. She was surprisingly quiet compared to her friends, sitting and looking at the glitter of her nails. “Are you nervous?” Archer asked her after a few silent moments. “A little.” She admitted with a sheepish smile. “But it’s my wedding, you know? Doesn’t happen every day.” Archer smiled and nodded in agreement. “Your friends are really excited though.” She gave a small laugh. “They love any excuse to get dressed up and get their nails painted.” “I can tell.”
Archer carefully applied the first coat of polish, covering each nail quickly before wiping off the excess with a Q tip. The whole time he made sure that only the brush or the Q tips ever touched the customer, keeping his skin away from hers. Despite the fact that he was wearing gloves, he could still get written up if he accidentally brushed against anyone.
Exhaustion tugged at the back of his eyes and the teenage boy inhaled deeply to clear his head. He’d been called into work two hours early, and he was so glad it was a Saturday so that he could go back to sleep when he got home. Thank God his shift ended at noon, he thought before turning back to continue painting the woman’s nails.
She was still quiet and he didn’t try to continue a conversation; silence always suited him better when he was tired. The bridesmaids were starting to finish up and put their shoes back on over their newly painted and shined toenails, and one of the women caught Archer’s eye. Or rather, her feet did. Dainty feet went into a tall pair of red suede platform heels that screamed ‘pay attention to me’. Archer’s brows went up as he eyed the shoes. “Gorgeous shoes, right?” his coworker, Rochelle, asked as she walked by. “If you’re mentally shouting ‘fuck me’.” Archer replied softly enough so that the object of their conversation wouldn’t overhear.
Rochelle snorted as she slipped into the back room they used for storage. “Sassy child.” She called. Archer rolled his eyes as he put away his supplies and spun idly in his swivel chair. “Always, darling.” The bride stood from her seat and slipped into her own modest heels, smiling softly at Archer. “Here.” She said. Archer let her take his hand and slip a ten dollar bill into it. “Thank you.” he said with a warm smile. She returned it and followed her friends while Archer sat and marveled at the tip.
The shop grew mostly silent as the five women pushed the door open into the blustery Baltimore morning. The six employees in the shop were cleaning and lounging around; Archer wasn’t the only tired one who had come in early. Rochelle was in the back, the twins Sasha and Sarah were in their stalls like Archer, Lili was sweeping the front lobby, and Marcy herself was at the receptionists desk tapping away on her computer.
Archer was the youngest employee in the salon on East Lombard Street. (A/N: Unknown if any actual salons are located on this street. Any similarities are unintentional.) He was also the only male, though this hardly made a difference seeing as he was just as interested in men as the women he worked with.
Archer wasn’t much of a rarity in the city. Shortly after the Contact Laws had been passed, new laws allowing gay couples all of their rights had sprung up right and left. Religious groups had no ground to scrabble on in their fights against homosexual relations, and babies like Archer had started popping up everywhere. In vitro babies, raised by homosexual couples in a world where it was allowed.
The young man’s thoughts wandered aimlessly as he spun in his swivel chair. The clock ticked on the wall and an occasional conversation struck up, but otherwise things remained mostly silent. On better days they’d all be laughing and chatting about this or that, but they were too tired for that today. Sasha and Sarah were discussing the topic that had been on the news last night; they’d stayed up late to watch it.
“Did you watch the press conference earlier?” Sasha asked her sister. Sarah came in an hour after her sister and always told them about whatever news they’d missed on television. Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “It was just a bunch of stuff about how the president wants to take away the laws and change some others around so that we can touch each other and stuff. Nothing really interesting.” She waggled her brows at Lili walking by, the Asian girl laughing. “We could finally get some guys.”
“I think it’s disgusting.” Sasha said with a wrinkled nose. “Why would you want to touch someone else’s skin? People have germs.” The others rolled their eyes. Sasha was particularly high strung when it came to keeping up with the laws, mostly because of her fear of germs.
“What do you think Archer?” Sarah asked, spinning around in her seat to face the black haired boy. He looked up quickly from picking at his nail polish. “Huh?” “What do you think of them maybe changing the laws?” The pretty blonde smiled warmly at him. Archer shrugged half heartedly. “It’d definitely be different. Seems like it’d be too hard to adjust, though.” Sarah huffed. “Someone’s bitchy today.” She spun back around to continue arguing with her sister. Archer shrugged a bit again, going back to picking at his nail polish.
At least the other women didn’t think he was some kind of touch addict or even a Runner. Kids from his school had been convicted of being addicts before. Entire families disappeared overnight sometimes, and everyone would pretend they’d never existed. He acted like he didn’t care and no one paid him any mind.
“Hey, none of those chicks left a tip!” Lili exclaimed. Sasha and Sarah groaned
…
Noon came with frosty winds and a sluggish drizzle that quickly soaked Archer’s fleece lined hoodie. He didn’t have a car, like most people in the city, so the young man had to walk home when his shift ended. Archer liked Baltimore, but only so much. It was beautiful in the summer, being close to the ocean, but the winters he disliked because of the mercurial weather. It was only early afternoon and already looked like mid evening.
The young man pulled his hood up over his head to shield his face and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, starting the eight block trek from the shop to the residential area where his house was. Cars honked and fought with taxis, buses, and even a few walking pedestrians, lending a chaotic background music to Archer’s walking. He whistled tunelessly for a few minutes before the sound trailed off and he sank into his thoughts.
The talk of the new law debates by his co workers had set Archer’s mind to spinning. He was conflicted about the laws, split into two sides. On the one hand, he could understand why people had been so afraid when they’d first passed the Contact laws. HIV was rampant, and it was killing so many people. It was an airborne strain that no one could stop. Everyone was terrified all the time, thinking that they would be next. People were afraid to meet someone new or even get a tattoo or piercing for fear that the needle going into their skin would be infected.
He could understand the fear and why people had stopped touching long enough to get rid of the spread of disease. But on the other hand, why had they kept the laws after the disease was gone? All if had done was make life colder and cause rebellions by those who had gone against the laws. People were put in prison for holding hands, given the death penalty for having sex; it all seemed pointless.
But so did thinking about it. The laws had been challenged before, before he was born and while he was a baby, but nothing had come of it. Contemplating what wasn’t changing would only give Archer a headache, so he looked up at the scenery surrounding him to distract himself.
Snowy, wet, soggy, cold; that summed up Baltimore in February. The teenage boy turned left at the end of the block and came onto a main road. Here the noise of the city was even louder, the snow was more melted, and more people were bustling along on the sidewalks. He slipped in among them and blended seamlessly, eyes roaming over each face that passed him by.
The city was full of businessmen and women in pencil skirts with serious expressions, interns hurrying along and slipping on the icy sidewalk, a few homeless people sitting hunched underneath awnings begging for a passing coin. On weekends and days when it was warmer the street performers came out, rain or shine, and tumbled, played music, painted and drew, read palms, and any number of other things. It was a Saturday, but most people worked six day work weeks that brought them out when teenagers like him had the rest of the day off.
Archer came to a stop at the nearest curb and pressed the crosswalk button. He looked up and almost gasped when he saw the tall, lanky boy standing on the opposite street corner. Over six feet tall, thin as a rail, with pale skin and bright pink hair. He was gorgeous, and Archer couldn’t even seen his face since he was turned partially away. The lights changed, and the young man walked across the street in Archer’s direction. The boy looked down quickly, shivering both at the unanticipated sight of someone so attractive and the feeling of water soaking through his hoodie and leaving an icy trail down his back. He felt the other man stop beside him, a foot of space between them, and he kept his head down. He was notoriously shy, his dads always told him that, and he blushed a bit as he stole a peek at the boy to his right.
Donned in black skinny jeans and a leather jacket, and boy’s hot pink hair was short on the sides and back and longer on top, slicked back. A silver ring divided his full lower lip in half, his lips somewhat softening angular features that could cut glass. His eyes were the same silvery grey as the sky, skimming the crowds with seeming boredom. His eyes flicked over to Archer and the other boy blushed bright red, looking down quickly and hunching his shoulders to hide a bit.
He heard a low chuckle, and this only made him blush more. Right as the light changed for his group to cross, he felt a solid weight settle over his shoulders and looked up. The older boy had taken off his leather jacket, leaving him in just a v neck grey t shirt, and placed the coat around Archer’s shivering form. It was warm with the man’s body heat and stopped at Archer’s thighs.
He stuttered for an answer and the taller one grinned. “How about you meet me at Caribou tomorrow at one and you can give me my jacket back?” Archer had all the grace to nod dumbly. “Good. It’s a date, beautiful.” He reached over and flicked up the collar of the jacket, his warm hands brushing against Archer’s neck, and then he was turning and walking away down the sidewalk, seemingly unaffected by the cold. The rain had plastered his t shirt to him, and Archer bit his lip.
Somehow he managed to get across the street and the rest of the way home, the whole time in a pleasant daze. The six remaining blocks passed by quickly and warmly, and before he knew it Archer was unlocking the door to his split level house in a quiet residential area. A blast of heat hit him the second he stepped into the house and he hummed appreciatively. Removing the leather jacket carefully, Archer hung it on an empty hook by the door and went down the stairs to his room.
His shoes squished from all of the water in them, and left water everywhere. The boy closed the door to his room and shed his clothing, grabbing a towel from his laundry basket and drying off quickly. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a white t shirt, as well as some Doctor Who socks he’d gotten for Christmas, Archer contemplated the young man and the jacket upstairs.
Should he go to the coffee shop tomorrow and meet the young man? He seemed nice enough, was absolutely gorgeous, and what could he really do anyway? Crime rate was almost nonexistent, and you couldn’t exactly assault someone without touching them. After all, Archer hadn’t had a date in four months, a serious relationship in a almost a year. At least as serious as a relationship could get when all you could do was talk and be in the same room together.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling his name from upstairs. “Archer? Is that you honey?” Archer threw his wet clothes into the bathroom across the hallway and bounded upstairs. “I’m home, Papa.” A lanky figure was sitting on the couch and turned his head to smile warmly at Archer. Austin Love was tall and slender, reddish black hair falling to frame a handsome face and pale green eyes. He held out an arm in invitation and Archer walked over to the couch. Sitting down, he cuddled up next to his father and Austin rested an arm across the boy’s shoulders.
What they were doing was breaking the law, even with just this simple platonic touch. “How was your shift?” Austin asked as he turned the television on. The curtains were closed tightly, tied so they couldn’t flutter open, and no one could see inside. “Good. We started talking about the press conference this morning.” Austin nodded. “That seems to be all that’s interesting people right now.” Archer heard the undertone in his father’s voice. Austin and his husband wanted nothing more than to have the Contact laws revoked.
“Where’s Dad?” Archer asked. Austin shifted to a more comfortable position, flipping through the channels to settle on a talk show. “Fixing his hair, like always.” Archer laughed lightly. “I heard that.” The two dark haired men turned their heads at the sound of a third voice. A slender man of middling height stood in the doorway to the kitchen, toying with a strand of ash blonde hair.
Fletcher was slender and very pale, Scandinavian to the bone, and looked nothing like the other two. He smiled softly and moved to sit on the couch on Austin’s other side, cuddling against his husband. Two dark heads and one light looked at the television as Fletcher reached out to hold Austin’s hand.
Archer smiled as he cuddled closer to his father, knowing that he was safe at home now. The three men were fairly quiet, but they didn’t need words to convey emotions. The family of three had always been very closely knit, ever since Archer could remember. His fathers doted on him, most likely because he was the only child they’d chosen to have.
Archer looked down at where Austin’s hand rested on his thigh, spreading out his fingers next to the other’s mans’. Archer had a darker complexion than both of the men; a rich olive tone he got from his mother. He’d been born from a surrogate mother, using her eggs, and he had her skin tone and height. She’d been Greek, and that was all he really knew about her. Austin had told Archer that she’d died when he was younger, but he looked a lot like her. He smiled faintly, almost sadly, at the contrast between his skin and his father’s.
Austin said something to Fletcher and Archer broke out of his thoughts. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled down into the couch, his eyelids growing heavy as he watched the characters of the television show dart back and forth and interact. He normally didn’t take naps during the day, but his hectic morning had worn him down. Besides, he wanted to look good for his date the next day. This thought put a smile on his face as he drifted to sleep.