Panic Spiral
True to his word, Bill did help Huxley prepare for the government exam. It was difficult, not because the material was all that complex, but because Huxley had a peculiar brain that froze out every bit of information he needed when he sat down to prove how well he knew it.
So studying for a test felt at once too easy, and futile.
As difficult as it might be, though, he’d promised Bill he would do this. Hell, he’d promised himself he would.
He hadn’t made it up when he’d told Bill he was doing this because it was what he wanted. He’d spent a lot of his time over the past ten years working hand-in-hand with first his father’s long-time vet, then with Susan, when she had taken over the retiring man’s practice. He knew how to look after the farm’s various denizens.
That had partly been out of the necessity of having to know how to do things so they didn’t have to pay the vet for every little thing, and partly so that he knew when something was beyond his abilities to deal with.
He’d quickly found he liked it. He wasn’t too stupid to learn how to do these things, but unlike Leland, who could not just admirably do the job, but also do the reading, and take the tests online, Huxley was better in practice than on paper.
All that experience was going to come in handy for him, he discovered as he and Bill started filling out the checklist necessary to be licenced.
“The MNR is being difficult these days,” Bill told him. “They’re demanding courses, or experience that isn’t reasonable, as a way to deny licences.”
“Why would they do that? I would have thought they would be happy to have people helping”
“They’re too big an organization, if you ask me. Too many branches, stretched too thin, and the last thing on the list always seems to be wildlife.”
“The Ministry of Natural Resources doesn’t care about wildlife?”
“They care about overall numbers, I suppose. In that they want to be able to make claims that whatever big budget thing they want to do won’t impact those overall numbers. But they don’t care about individual animals. They maintain that one animal saved and released here or there isn’t going to impact the overall health of a species.”
“That’s—”
Bill held up a hand. “It’s as much bullshit as I can stomach, I agree. Believe me. But thankfully the one time they tried to intimidate me out of doing what I do, my uncle Johnathan stepped up, and he’s a scary-assed lawyer even the MNR didn’t want to tussle with. So I get to do what I do, and given that you have the experience you do, you have my backing, and you have Susan willing to vouch for your ability, we should be able to get this done.”
“As long as I pass the test.”
“You will.”
“Wish I was as confident about that as you are.”
Bill smiled at him. “We got this.”
Waiting in the lobby to be called in to actually write the test, Huxley didn’t feel as confident as he had over the past weeks of preparation. Which wasn’t saying much.
“You need to breathe,” Bill reminded him.
“I am breathing.”
“Stop pacing.”
“I can’t.”
“Hux.”
“What if I don’t pass?”
“You’ll pass.”
“But if I don’t. Do I get a re-write?”
“Hux.”
“How many times can I try?”
“Hux.”
“If I fail too many times, will they let Wembley or someone do it? What happens to Funk if I mess up?”
“Hux.”
“Will they take him away? What about the geese? They’re half Canada Goose. Does that make them half wild? Do we lose them too?”
“Huxley!” Bill stepped in front of Huxley, interrupting his pacing, and nudging him into a corner where they had more privacy.
“What about your licence if I fail? What if?—”
Bill took Huxley’s face in both his hands. “Will you stop?”
“I—can’t.” And even he didn’t know if he meant he couldn’t stop, or couldn’t do the test. Maybe both. He knew he was spiralling, but he had nothing to break the cycle.
“You can.”
“I’m going to cost you your practice. Get Susan shut down. Leland will be out a job. Hell, what will be the use of his taking all those classes he signed up for. Wha—ffp.”
Bill’s lips were on his, stamping out whatever other dire prediction he’d been about to spout. His first instinct was to kiss back, so he did.
Then his helpful brain reminded him he was about to ruin everyone’s lives, and the kiss faltered.
Bill snuck his tongue along Huxley’s lips, and his brain gave way to instinct again.
“Mmm. Bill.”
Bill backed off the kiss but stayed close enough their lips still brushed together when he spoke. “What?”
“You’re kissing me.”
“Had to get your attention.”
“Seems extreme.”
Bill grinned and Huxley felt it where their lips brushed. It loosened some of the knots in his chest.
“You don’t think Susan losing her practice because you don’t pass a test isn’t extreme?”
“Can’t help what my brain does.”
“Name two agencies involved with wildlife rehabilitation in Ontario.”
“What?”
Bill kissed him lightly. “You heard me. Don’t think about it.” He kissed him again. “Just name two.”
“Um. PAWS and the Ontario Health Unit.”
“See?” Bill kissed him deeper this time. “You got this.”
“You going to be in there kissing me between questions?”
Bill’s grin was even wider this time. “No. But I’ll kiss you stupid now, and every time you start to spiral while you’re in there, just touch your lips and remember this.”
There was very little chance Huxley would forget the kiss Bill laid on him. In fact, he almost didn’t recognize his own name being called a few minutes later, while he was standing there panting and watching Bill chuckle at him.
“I don’t think this is going to help like you think it will,” Huxley told him, voice so gruff he had to clear his throat.
“Trust me.” He turned Huxley by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shove towards the smiling woman, who had earlier introduced herself as Heather, and was now waiting for him to follow her to his, and everyone else’s, destruction.
Either way, it was too late for Huxley to back out now. His boot heels made the echo of doom as he walked down the terrazzo hallway behind her.
The question about which agencies were involved with wildlife rehabilitation wasn’t even on the test, as it turned out. But thankfully, Huxley found himself well-prepared for the questions that were. And surprisingly, relaxed enough to recall the needed information.
Mostly. When he came across the kind of question he hated most: ‘give four ways to minimize an animal’s stress levels’, his chest tightened and his throat closed—precursors to all that precious information slipping away forever.
So he did as Bill had instructed and touched his fingertips to his lips.
What could it hurt?
The remembered tingle sent a pronounced shiver down the sides of his neck and over his shoulders, standing the hairs on his arms on end. He closed his eyes and could almost smell Bill’s shampoo.
And that was the answer. “Manage sensory input,” He whispered. And the rest came back to him, common sense, really, and simple. Things that held true for all animals, wild or domestic, and that he already did instinctually. He knew this.
Bill was right.
He had this.
The trouble was, when the exam was over, Huxley had to go back out there and face Bill.
Bill, who had believed in him that he could do this.
Bill, who had seen him through weeks of study and preparation.
Bill who had come with him to write the test, in order to keep him from panicking beyond reason.
Bill, who had kissed him stupid to stop his spiral.
Bill. Who knew exactly what he had needed.
The same Bill he’d been trying to put out of his mind for ten years.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Jackson?” Heather’s quiet question still jump scared him, and he huffed to cover his start.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”
She smiled at him. “Well, you can stop that for a minute, at least. Test is over, and in my experience, thinking over answers you can’t go back and change only leads to binge drinking at the pub and further poor life choices. I know. I’m still going to Laurentian U for a sixth year of a three-year degree. And all because I second guessed some exam questions.”
“I think you might be leaving out mentioning a few steps in there.”
She winked at him. “Might be. But I know where it all started and trust me. It’s a slippery, slippery slope, my friend.”
Huxley couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll take your word for it. Do you know when I’ll get the results?”
“You’ll get an email within ten business days with your score and detailing next steps, depending on if you passed or not.”
“Ten business days.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Guess I’ll have to keep busy for a while.”
Her smile widened. “I bet you and your boyfriend will come up with something.” She winked and heat snuck up his neck.
“Oh, he’s not?—”
At that moment, Bill knocked on the glass wall of the exam room, waving when they looked over at him. The grin he flashed, that made his dark eyes dance and popped the dimple under his beard, finished the flush that left Huxley feeling both hot and covered in goose flesh at once.
“Maybe not yet,” Heather whispered, as she opened the door for Bill. “Come on in, Dr. Wellcastle.”
“How did it go?” Bill moved right to the edge of Huxley’s personal space as Huxley got out of his chair.
“Fine.” Huxley turned to Heather. “Thank you for everything.”
“Oh, sure. You guys have a great rest of your day.” She waved a little wave and sauntered out of the room, leaving them alone.
“So?” Bill’s expectant gaze wouldn’t let Huxley break eye contact.
“So.”
“Lunch?”
“Bill—”
“Lunch,” Bill decided, and propelled Huxley out the door, despite Huxley’s inches of height and pounds of extra muscle.
One kiss and Huxley was back in Bill’s thrall that fast. It was a disgrace. But a comfortable disgrace, so it was hard to be mad about it.
They chose a quiet table at the back of nearby Peddler’s Pub, but conversation stalled until the server had delivered their drafts.
“Look,” Huxley started, once they’d taken the first sips and there was no more excuse to sit in silence.
Bill held up a hand.
“What?”
“If what follows,” Bill leaned forward until he had his elbows on the table, “is you saying thanks, but you don’t need me anymore, I’m stopping you.”
“You think I need you?”
“I’m just not letting you brush me off. That day after the colts were born, we said we needed to talk. We’ve found lots of reasons to put that talk off.”
“I—”
“I’m not done, Hux.”
Huxley waved a hand and settled back into his chair. “Okay. Sorry. Please continue.”
Bill snorted, but his eyes twinkled. “I let us put it off, because I wanted to get this exam out of the way first. I didn’t want to make that any harder for you than it was already going to be.”
“Because you need me to pass so you can have your wildlife sanctuary in place.”
“Don’t get snotty on me. I wanted you to pass so you can have your wildlife sanctuary.”
Huxley cocked his head. “Really.”
“You told me how much it meant to you. I wanted to make sure you got what you wanted.”
Huxley was quiet for a while, watching Bill sip his beer, then smooth down the hairs under his bottom lip with a thumb and forefinger, after each sip.
His own sparse beard was getting scraggly, and he had to suck a few drops of beer out of his shaggy moustache, but he noticed Bill’s eyes on him, too.
“What are we doing, Bill? Picking up where we left off? Because I’m not he same guy I was right out of high school.”
“I should hope not.”
“A lot has changed.”
Bill nodded. “For me too.” He reached out to brush his fingers over Huxley’s knuckles. “Not how I feel about you.”
Huxley pulled away. “Two years you’ve been back.”
Leaving his hand on the table, Bill nodded again. “I know. You ever have that experience where you know you should do something, and you keep putting it off, but then it becomes so big you just can’t? Too much time has passed, and you have no idea how to even start?”
“That’s the kind of thing you say when you’ve misplaced someone’s name, Bill. Not when you misplace the entire relationship.”
“That’s just it, though. I never misplaced us. I just…”
“Left us behind.”
“Made the mistake of thinking we’d be here when I got back. I took you for granted and I didn’t know how to fix that.”
Huxley couldn’t help himself. He half grinned. “And you figured kissing me in the middle of a government office lobby would be the way to find us?”
“Maybe?” Bill’s answering smile was so much more tentative than Huxley wanted it to be. “Did it work?”
Huxley sat back. “I don’t know.” Although he mostly did know. “It’s hard to lose something I’ve had tethered to me my whole life. Or at least all of it I can remember.”
Maybe Bill’s smile grew less tentative.
“But it’s hard to trust it when I thought it was one sided for so long.”
And there went the smile altogether. “I get that.”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t know where to go from here.”
“Do we at least agree we’re trying to get there together?” Bill asked, grabbing his hand again, but not letting go this time.
After a moment, Huxley twined their fingers. “Maybe I’m crazy for it, but I guess I always thought we were heading someplace together.” He met Bill’s gaze. “I just hoped it was a good place.”
“You thought that even when I was gone?”
Huxley pulled away, feeling like a fool. He grabbed up his beer and drained it instead of replying.
“I didn’t mean that to sound flip. I just…It’s incredible to me that you never…I don’t know. Never gave up on us.”
“It felt stupid a lot of the time,” Huxley admitted.