The Mafia but Gay [NEW&COMPLETED]

Don't Gay Up My Mom's Closet

Reuben was silent on their drive across the highway. He was unresponsive to Ambrose's touch and ignored everything his buttercup said because he was caught up in his own head. His bottom lip was raw from his paranoid chewing and he had gone without blinking for a couple minutes. Every gas station they passed, he was tempted to pull over and hide there for the rest of their lives. He didn't want to face Joe and Michael and whoever else was waiting for him at his foster house because it meant Ambrose was going to be taken away from him, and worse, both he and Joe were at Mercy's end. So he was feeling exactly what Ambrose had called him back at the motel in louisiana: a pussy.

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Ambrose was worried. "Reuben?" He had said his name several times in the past few minutes and had gotten no reply.

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So why should this time be any different? Reuben didn't seem to hear him, he continued to stare off into space, gripping the steering wheel in a cold sweat.

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Ambrose tentatively reached over and set his hand on his arm. "Reuben." He said it with more voice.

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Reuben jumped and swerved, straightening out in just the nick of time, the semi-truck beside them honked angrily.

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Ambrose frowned. “Reuben, what’s wrong?”

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Reuben was breathing heavily. "I-Im sorry, buttercup. Maybe we should just stay at another hotel for the night?" But Reuben was running out of cash. He knew he didn't have enough.

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"But why? What's the matter?" Ambrose wasn't that dumb. He could tell something was bothering Reuben.

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Reuben grit his teeth, his stomach performing gymnastics. "I-...It's nothing." He didn't want to scare Ambrose.

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"It's obviously something." Ambrose frowned even more.

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"I'm just worried." Reuben put it simply. "What if Joe isn't there?" That was the least of his concerns.

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"He'll be there." Ambrose didn't know what else to say.

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"Yeah...ok…" Reuben swallowed. He thought about guns, specifically Michael holding one at Joe's head, and then Mrs. Abby's, Angel's...He thought about how he wasn't there when Michael hurt Ambrose. About what he may possibly have done to him. He gripped the steering wheel until his hands cramped, a low growl rumbled deep in his throat. 

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Ambrose watched Reuben with a worried look. "Can we pull over for a bit?" He wanted to confront Reuben about this.

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Reuben took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Yes." He took an exit that entered a small dinky town with poor lighting. The day was getting old, the sun would set in another hour. Reuben parked behind what looked like an abandoned motel. "Something tells me this isn't another make-out session." He joked with Ambrose and turned around in his seat to face him.

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Ambrose frowned and shook his head, crawling over onto Reuben's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. "What's really wrong?" He asked while straddling him, watching his face with a concerned expression.

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Reuben broke into a chuckle. "Buttercup, are you sure you aren't trying to start something? You've never acted this way." He slid his hands around Ambrose's hips and gripped his ass.