Stand the Gaff

Chapter 1

Between Hay and Grass

When Kevin and Kyle were younger they were inseparable. Kevin would follow his older brother everywhere, and Kyle would teach his younger brother different pranks and swear words. However, the older the brothers turned, the more hostile their relationship became. Kyle was an angsty athlete with anger management issues, and Kevin was a passive-aggressive nerdy know-it-all. Both boys had relatively active social lives. Kyle hung out with his teammates and Kevin was active in his school’s drama club, but neither boy ever let their guard down emotionally. Despite their outwardly social appearance, their introverted nature was obvious to anyone who knew them. And yet both brothers were constantly at each other's throats. By the time the youngest had entered high school, they couldn't go a week without a piece of furniture being thrown across their household.

Nine months later, their parents had enough of the boy’s bad attitude and constant fighting. Mr. Sottomesso, the boy’s father, asked his stepbrother if he would take Kevin and Kyle in for the summer. Michael was a retired soldier turned cowboy who owned a small ranch a few states over. Not only did Mr. and Mrs.   need a break from parenting, but the couple hoped their sons might gain some maturity from working on their uncle’s farm. Michael was more than happy to accept some extra help around the ranch, but Kevin and Kyle were less stoked about spending their summer trapped on a farm. As soon as the Sottomesso Subaru came bounding up the dirt road to their step-uncle's rustic Homestead, the boys and bags were out of the car, and their parents were flooring it back down the driveway.

Michael greeted his nephews, offering to help both with their bags. The last time he saw them, Kyle was entering preschool, and Kevin was little more than a baby. Kyle made no attempt to acknowledge his uncle and started toward the house with his suitcase. Kevin looked up at his step-uncle, studying his large frame. The man seemed nothing like their father. Their dad was a small slightly chubby college professor. Kevin wouldn’t call his father a pushover, but Kyle probably would have. Both of their parents were very in touch with their emotions. Kyle liked to solve his problems physically, but his father would often tell him to talk through his feelings. In contrast, Michael was the very personification of masculinity. At a height of 6′7″, Michael towered over the shy clearly flustered Kevin. His younger nephew stared in awe at the muscular definition in his uncle’s harry arms. Kevin couldn’t even grow a single ass hair, meanwhile, his uncle’s body was a musky testosterone-fueled forest. Kevin couldn’t help but wonder how much hair the older male had hidden under his shirt... How much hair did his uncle have hidden between his muscular Mike and Ikes... Between those mighty man milkers... His massive chest seemed to threaten the very life of every button that dared to hold his bulging pectorals in their flannel cage. F u c k...

“You good, lil man? You seem awfully distracted there.” Michael said, snapping Kevin’s attention back to the moment. The younger boy hadn’t greet his uncle, yet the man had clearly just caught Kevin staring at his chest.

“Oh shit. S-sorr-I’m sorry! Sir!… I was just, uh, I was thinking about Kyle! A-and…“

“Whoa there, Chickidy. No need to get so flustered. This ain’t an interrogation.” Michael placed a hand on Kevin’s head, ruffling the boy’s hair. “An’ there ain't no need for all that ‘Sir’ business. Just call me Mike or Uncle Mikey.”

“S-sorry, uh. I-I know, I-I-I mean, I will. I just-“ Kevin shifted nervously under Michael’s gaze. He was trying to purge the embarrassment from his system, but he was still panicking after being caught ogling his uncle’s breasts. Michael just chuckled down towards the stammering kid in front of him. Before Kevin’s brain could catch up to the conversation, Michael had taken the suitcase from his hands and the last two bags on the ground and started towards the house.

“You jus' gunna stand there all night? We already gotta scarecrow.”

“Oh- S-Sorry- Sir!” Kevin yelled, quickly running after his uncle.

———

“Ugh! This is so not fair.” Kyle yelled, throwing his duffel bag against the slanted panel wall of his new bedroom. “Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck my life.” From the doorway, the boy kicked his suitcase across the floor. The bag bounced off the sturdy footboard of his bed frame with a thud. “Fucking, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.“ Kyle walked over to his bed, slumping over onto his mattress in defeat. “This fucking blows.”

The boy was beyond pissed at his parents. This was his last summer before college, and he had to spend it on his uncle’s dumpy ranch. Kyle stared through the old lace curtains poorly tacked to the window. From the attic bedroom, he could see Kevin and Michael still outside dealing with his brother’s luggage. “The asshole isn’t even our real uncle… Or a real cowboy.” Kyle grabbed his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, checking in vain for notifications. On the car ride up to the ranch his cell reception was inconsistent at best. Now that he was officially stranded in his own personal country hellscape, his cell phone didn't show a single bar. Kyle just sat on the stiff mattress silently glaring at his phone’s no-service icon.

“There were so many things I was gonna do this summer..." For an athlete, Kyle’s social skills were undeveloped and underutilized. In his four years of high school, he had only been to two lame parties, had never had a girlfriend, and hadn’t even kissed a girl. It had taken him all four of those years to even open up to his friends. The friends that had made him a best-of high-school bucket list. The friends that had promised to cram 4 years of experiences into one summer. The friends that were ganna help him lose his virginity. Now the only thing Kyle was losing was his mind.

Kyle turned toward his doorway to see his younger brother fumbling into the bedroom with his suitcase. “You’re such a fucking dick-face, Kevin! It’s literally because of your beta turd-ass that I’m stuck here!”

“Hey-now! Watch the language, Curly-wolf.” Michael said, entering the room behind Kevin. The burley-voicedcommand caught Kyle by surprise. He hadn’t expected his uncle to come up, yet there the man stood balancing his brother’s suitcases on his biceps like they were haybales. Kyle turned from his uncle, taking a sudden interest in the knotty pinewood floor. He could feel his confidence draining from his body.

“Don’t mind Coalemus Tweeder. I refuse to be offended by a Neanderthal with half a brain cell.” Kevin said, striking a pose so theatric it would make Shakespeare cringe.

“God, you’re such a fucking fa-" Kyle caught his uncle’s eye. Even from across the room his imposing figure cut through Kyle’s thoughts like a hot knife through styrofoam. "...Why the hell are you even in my room?" Kyle grumbled, glancing vaguely in his brother's direction.

“You mean our room, Einstein?” Kyle’s head swung up towards his brother. He paused trying to read Kevin’s smug expression. With the tact of a teen girl in a slasher film, Kyle’s eyes slowly drifted toward the rather obvious clue glaring him in the face. How had he missed it? The call from inside the house; the steel pipe just under his nose; the blatant sign foreshadowing his doom. Kevin paused between each word, reveling in his older brother's slow uptake. “There. Are. Two. Beds. Dumbass." 

“Oh, HELL no!” Kyle screamed, running a straight b-line for his brother.

“Damn, Kyle-” Kevin tightened his grip on his suitcase, winding the handle behind him like the hilt of Mjölnir. “-I knew you were stupid, but I thought you could count~”

"Fuck off, ass-wipe!" Kyle launched off the suitcase he had thrown against his bed frame earlier. Kevin closed his eyes, swinging his impromptu Warhammer in the direction his brother was charging from. Both boys were set on striking first, and neither intended to lose.

"AaAAAHHHH-"

"AAAAAHHHH-"

"AAAAAHHHH-"

*THUMP-BOOM*

.

.

.

“Calm both your asses, rIGHT THE FUCK DOWN!”

Before either brother could make contact, the two bags Michael carried had hit the floor. In their place, Kyle and Kevin hung by their shirts- each boy suspended in front of their uncle from a different hand. “I'm going to say this ONE TIME, and ONE TIME only.” Both brothers were in shock with how quickly the room’s energy had changed. The intensity in Michael’s voice shook with an authority neither boy had ever heard in their father. Kyle couldn’t look his uncle in the eyes. Kevin couldn’t look away. “If you can't beef your hash like fuckin' men, then I’ll beat your ass like the tetchy li’l brats you're acting like.” Michael lowered his nephews back down to their feet, but didn't release his hold on their shirts. “Do I make myself clear?” Kevin nodded frantically, his wide eyes still locked on his uncle. “Curly-wolf…” Michael stared down at Kyle. When he still got no response, Michael lifted the older boy back up to eye level. “I said: Do. I. Make. My. Self. Clear? ”

Kyle tried to muster as much confidence in his voice as he could. “Y-yeah… Yes…”

Kevin watched his brother from the safety of the floor, relieved by the perks of his quick reply. Kyle was trying desperately to make eye contact with the older man, and clearly failing.

“Yes, what?” Michael waited patiently, his eyes fixed firmly on Kyle's own.

“...Y-yes, Sir.” Kyle croaked. Within seconds, the boy was back on the ground and his uncle’s intensity had melted away. If his brother weren't a witness, Kyle might not have been certain the interaction had even happened.

“I’m glad we’re all on the same page. I know ya might think yrself in a bad box, but I'm hopin' you boys can have some fun this summer.” Michael placed a hand on both brothers’ heads, ruffling his nephews’ hair. “Well I'll let you two get all squared away, and tomorrow I can show you the ropes to running the ranch.” Michael walked to the doorway, grabbing the knob as he passed. “Oh and Curly-wolf...” Michael’s soft smile stood in complete contrast to the stern expression he wore only moments before.

“…Y-Yes… Uncle Mike?” Kyle asked, still standing where the older man placed him.

“I am a real Cowboy. A word of advice: If you’re gonna throw a temper tantrum, you might wanna make sure the bedroom window is closed before you do it.” With those parting words, the boy’s uncle closed their bedroom door. Both brothers stood there, taking in the quiet moment of respite the night had offered. In some ways both young men stood alone, and yet they both stood alone together.