Seeing Clearly Now

Written By LJ


“You can’t be serious!” Darby exclaimed, almost dropping the platter he was drying and glaring at his partner.

“I most certainly am,” Rowan firmly responded. He finished rinsing the last of the soap suds down the drain and dried his hands with a paper towel.

“Well I don’t care what the results are, I am not getting glasses!” Darby adamantly stated as he put the platter on the counter and turned to leave the room.

“Hold on there, young man.” Rowan intercepted his husband, grabbed his arm and swung him around. “You seem to have forgotten who has last say where your well-being is concerned.” He landed two stinging swats on Darby’s rear-end. “And that is not how you talk to me,” he reminded him with another two swats.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want glasses, Rowan. I don’t even want to have my eyes checked in case it’s bad news.” Darby buried his face in the front of Rowan’s sweater.

“Darby, you’ve been getting an abnormal amount of headaches over the last few months.” Rowan patiently rubbed circles on his repentant partner’s back. “Recently, I’ve caught you squinting numerous times while you were trying to read or watch TV. This is not the first time I’ve mentioned you seeing an optometrist. It is only because you deliberately ignored my directives to make an appointment that I took it upon myself to make one for you. It wasn’t difficult to get you in as I have one myself the same day.”

Darby pushed back, crossed his arms and glowered. He was becoming exasperated at not be able to think of a way out of the situation. “In other words, I have to show up at Dr. Horsefield’s office on Monday and I have nothing to say about it.”

“Yes,” Rowan slowly nodded. “I guess that’s the bottom line, all right.” He wasn’t at all repentant about pulling rank and forcing the younger man into doing something he definitely didn’t want to do. After all, it was for his husband’s own good.

“Why do you have an appointment anyway?” Darby inquired somewhat sullenly.

“Just a precautionary measure, Sweets. Both my parents and all my grandparents needed glasses, so I get my eyes check out every second year to see if any changes are occurring.”

“My dad wore them for reading but I have no way of knowing if my biological mother did or not,” Darby begrudgingly admitted.

“Then I’d say that between the signs you’re showing and the bit of history you do have, there’s a possibility you are going to need them. It would help if you prepared yourself for what might be the inevitable, babe,” Rowan kindly encouraged.

“Easier said than done,” Darby sighed, his dissatisfaction obvious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darby leaned forward in his chair to stare dejectedly at the piece of paper in his hand. He hadn’t wanted to come here today. He had better things to do on a Monday afternoon. He certainly hadn’t wanted this prescription.

“Damn it!” he muttered, a little too loudly if the man frowning at him from two seats over was anything to go by.

At this moment he was sorely tempted to roll the paper into a tiny ball and chuck it in the wastepaper basket. However, he knew such an action would result in him having one rather annoyed Top on his hands. ‘Rowan deliberately planned my appointment before his so he’d find out the results of both our examinations,’ Darby silently groused.

His unhappy pondering was interrupted by a tapping on the top of his head. Glancing up, he saw Rowan standing over him.

“Let’s go, Beethoven, we have a stop to make at Pearle Vision to get your prescription filled.”

Darby opened his mouth to complain but one look at his husband’s face quickly had him changing his mind.

Ten minutes later they were walking into the vision center. Rowan tried to interest Darby in choosing frames, but the young man couldn’t have been more indifferent. The older man’s patience was running out by the time a sales rep finally stepped forward to serve them.

After getting Darby to try on several styles and finding him uncooperative, the woman non-verbally appealed to Rowan for assistance.

“We’ll take these,” Rowan stated, picking up a pair of rimless eyeglasses. “Please make them transitional,” he requested, taking out his credit card.

“We can do that for you. They’ll be ready on Wednesday.” Closing the sale and handing Rowan his receipt, she politely added, “It was a pleasure serving you.”

Rowan waited until they were in the car before calling his husband on his unacceptable behaviour. “Darby, I know you’re unhappy about needing glasses but there was no reason to make the whole experience miserable for everyone. You’ll offer your apology when you pick up your prescription in two days' time.”

Not getting an answer, he glanced over at the young man slumped in the passenger seat. “Did you hear what I said, Darby?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry for embarrassing you like that. I’ll apologize to the lady.” Darby hung his head. He was appalled at his lack of manners. Rowan was right; he had no business taking out his misery on innocent people.

“I think you embarrassed yourself more, Sweets.” Rowan carefully pulled out of the parking lot. He couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye, that his husband was squirming uncomfortable. “Over the next couple of days, you can write up an essay on how to treat others with respect and appreciation.”

Rowan knew the assignment, together with the apology, would alleviate the guilt Darby was feeling. Without consequences for his actions, the young man would only work himself into further trouble.

Wednesday came and went. Darby had completed his writing task but had conveniently ‘forgotten’ to pick up his new glasses. He ‘forgot’ again on Thursday.

“I’ve cut you enough slack, Darby. If those glasses are not in this house when I get home from work tomorrow evening, your backside will be paying the price for your ‘forgetfulness’.” Rowan figured the threat of repercussions would provide more incentive than the extra leeway had.

Sure enough, a small case with the name Pearle Vision stamped on top was sitting on the kitchen counter when Rowan arrived home on Friday evening.

Rowan set about preparing supper while listening to the music coming from Darby’s studio. He seasoned and popped chicken breasts into the oven. Getting ingredients out of the fridge, he dumped a bag of shredded broccoli and carrots into a bowl, adding a handful of dried cranberries, some pumpkin seeds and a freshly chopped apple. Next he stirred in a mixture of plain yogurt and poppy seed dressings. It was one of the best ways of insuring Darby ate a variety of wholesome food.

A short time later he heard the sounds of his husband’s student leaving. When Darby did not soon put in an appearance, Rowan went to fetch him and found his partner playing the piano and writing out the new piece of music he was composing.

Rowan frowned when he saw Darby squinting at the paper in front of him and remembered the new eye glasses sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Why are you not wearing your glasses, Darby?”

“Huh?” Darby turned around with a startled expression on his face. “I-I don’t need them to play the piano, Row. I can do that with my eyes shut.”

“But you can’t read or write music without them,” the older man duly pointed out. He walked over to his husband, hauled him up off the piano bench and over his left hip. After landing six hard swats, he set Darby back on his feet. “That is a reminder to obey the instructions giving you by the optometrist. You know what happens if you ignore those orders again.”

“Yes,” Darby muttered as he tried to rub the sting out of his rear end. He gladly accepted the loving embrace that followed. Both men knew the next time would result in an over-the-lap, bare-bottom spanking.

“Supper’s ready,” Rowan announced. He kissed Darby and taking the younger man’s hand, led him out of the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sunday night found Darby at the computer, involved in his weekly chat with Skyy.

“So you got your new glasses, huh? How is that working out for you?”

“It isn’t! Even just having them is ten shades of suck, never mind actually wearing them.”

“Put them on, Dek. I want to see you with them.” Skyy watched the screen and a moment later Darby reappeared as requested. “Hey, those really look good on you. Honest! Are the headaches diminishing any?”

“Can’t tell, because I hardly wear the glasses. If Rowan’s not around, then neither are the specs.” Darby tried to laugh off the last comment but failed.

“Hmm, hate them that much, huh? Have you considered contacts?”

“Yeah, Rowan suggested it. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. Forget about it! I have no intentions of sticking my fingers or anything else in my eyes.” Darby sounded pretty adamant about his decision.

“Well then, if it was me, I’d opt for wearing the glasses and avoiding the painful headaches.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Blue, when you’ve got 20/20 vision.”

“You’re going to have to get used to wearing them sooner or later, Dek. You have a busy couple of months ahead of you with your upcoming graduation for your Masters. You’ll be putting a lot more stress on your eyes and that certainly won’t lessen the headaches.” Seeing his adopted brother shrug on the screen in front of him, Skyy went on to ask, “How come you’re being so stubborn about this? It’s not like you at all.”

“Damn if I know. I’ve been trying to come up with a reason for my aversion to glasses, but haven’t found one,” Darby muttered quietly while resting his chin in his hand.

Picking up on Darby’s unhappiness, Skyy decided a change of subject was called for. “I wish we could get out there for your grad, but Den says no can do. We’re all so busy at that time of year. Den has piles of papers to grade, I have my semester finals to write, and both coincide with Dusty having to do the yearly safety inspections on about half the fleet at the transport company he works for. But we’ll be seeing you in August when we come out to spend almost two weeks at that cabin you’ve told me so much about.”

“I can hardly wait; we’re going to have a blast, Blue.” This new topic had Darby excited. “Jayson and Riley say they might join us for the long weekend and that will just add to the fun. Just now though, Glen and TJ aren’t making plans to come over.”

“Man, I wish we could visit them at their new house. I’d love to see their ghosts,” Skyy mused wistfully.

“Well I don’t know that we actually saw any apparitions, little brother. We were really plastered at the time,” Darby laughingly confessed.

“I’d still like a chance to see for myself,” Skyy insisted, disappointed in the unlikelihood of that ever happening.

The young men continued their conversation until their allotted hour was up and then sign off with a ‘talk to you next week’. The new eye glasses were not mentioned again, much to Darby’s relief. It was hard coming up with excuses for being so pigheaded against what he knew was simple logic.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The week quickly came and went with Darby still refusing to wear his glasses anywhere but at home where Rowan was unavoidably going to see him. Darby had a couple of minor headaches and managed to convince himself that they were becoming a thing of the past. ‘Maybe my eyes are even improving,’ he thought, crossing his fingers.

It was just before noon on Friday when Shelley discovered him stuffing books and papers from his locker into his backpack.

“I was going to ask you to have lunch with me in the cafeteria, Darby.” She looked closely at him and became concerned by his pallor. “You’ve got another headache, haven’t you? And it looks like a bad one.”

“It is. So I’m going home to see if I can sleep it off. Sorry about lunch.”

“Lunch isn’t a problem, Darby. Your refusal to wear your glasses is the problem. Why in the name of heaven, do you continue harming yourself like this? Give me one good reason; provided you have one, that is.” Shelley stood with her hands on her hips, sternly glaring up at her best friend.

Darby closed his locker door and leaned against it. He had to partially close his eyes to ward off the glare of the overhead lighting as he softly gave voice to his feelings. “I remember a time when I was called just about every name a few of my classmates could think of. The only one I was never called was ‘four-eyes’ because it obviously didn’t apply. Not that the rest did, mind you.” Darby smirked slightly as that thought hit him. “It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t seem to move past that.” He turned a pleading glance at the young woman in front of him, hoping for her understanding.

“Kids can be notoriously mean, Darby. But that’s all they were, kids. And that was in high school; we’re in university now. We’re all grown up now. Heck, we’re even married,” she reminded him with a lively chuckle.

“Well, I am certainly glad you are,” Darby teased as he reached over to place a hand on her rounded stomach. He grinned when he felt the baby kicked.

Turning serious again, Shelley lightly scolded. “Darby, none of our friends are going to make fun of your wearing glasses and anyone else who may be inclined to do so, aren’t worth the time of day. Their opinions couldn’t matter less to us.” She smiled when she realized she was finally getting through to him. “I’m not going to stop badgering you or let you go home until I have your promise that you will wear your glasses as you’ve been instructed to.”

Darby stared into Shelley’s eyes and saw the loving concern as well as the resolve to carry out her threat. He shyly grinned down at her and nodded. “I promise; cross my heart,” he solemnly declared and drew the sign on his chest with his fingers, making the young woman laugh.

“Okay, get going then and I’ll call you tomorrow to see if you’re feeling better.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “Love ya, you know.”

“Love you too,” Darby replied before turning and walking out of the building with one final wave.

By the time he arrived home, Darby’s head was pounding and he could barely see straight. He toed off his sneakers and left them in the middle of the back porch. On his way to the master bedroom, he dropped his backpack on the kitchen table and hung his jacket over the post at the bottom of the banister.

After lowering the shades in the bedroom, he downed a couple of extra-strength Tylenol with a glass of water. He walked out of the en suite, stripping off his tie, shirt and jeans. They formed a nice trail to the bed where he crawled under the blankets, pulled Rowan’s pillow over his head and eventually fell asleep.

Darby woke four hours later feeling refreshed and completely free of pain. He lay in bed getting his bearings and thinking of the unnecessary pain he had put himself through earlier. “Never again!” he vowed out loud.

“What ‘never again’, Sweets?” Rowan asked as he walked into the room. He had been surprised to come home and find his Brat in bed. It was something that only happened when Darby was very ill.

Having spent several minutes standing in the doorway and watching Darby sleep, Rowan now wanted to know why. He sat down on the side of the bed and closely examined his husband’s handsome face. Reaching out, he ran his fingers lightly over the remaining creases on Darby’s forehead and frowned when he saw the lingering signs in the younger man’s eyes of what had to have been a hell of a headache.

Darby stared up at the big man who made up his world and unconsciously pressed against the hand gently caressing his cheek. He instinctively knew Rowan had a good idea of what had transpired and more than likely, how it had come about.

“Hum, I kinda had to skip my afternoon classes.” At Rowan’s raised eyebrow, Darby stumbled on with his tale of woe. “I had the worse headache ever, Row. I thought I was going to throw up…..but I didn’t,” he hastened to add when he saw his husband’s loving expression of concern deepen. “It’s gone now. I was able to sleep it off with the help of a couple of Tylenol.”

Darby nervously plucked at the silk trim of the blanket covering him. Rowan’s silence was a good indicator that more information was expected. Darby briefly closed his eyes and sighed before reluctantly confessing all. “I haven’t been wearing my glasses in public. I didn’t want anyone seeing them,” he murmured, knowing full well he couldn’t have come up with a more pathetic excuse. He held his breath and didn’t move a muscle as he gazed up at his Top, dreading what would take place next.

Rowan didn’t keep his Brat waiting. He simply peeled back the covers and help Darby get to his feet, then he firmly settled his partner face-down over his lap once Darby’s boxers had been removed.

Lifting Darby’s T-shirt and placing a firm hand on the exposed butt, Rowan calmly inquired, “What have you done to deserve this spanking, Darby?”

Darby squirmed uncomfortable. He hated being in this position, hated having disappointed his partner yet again, and hated having to answer the inevitable question. “I disobeyed you by not following the doctor’s orders and making myself sick.”

“Close enough.” Both men knew deliberate disobedience would never be tolerated. Rowan raised his right hand and brought it down with a resounding smack on his Brat’s vulnerable bottom. He easily got into a rhythm, landing a hard swat on first one reddening globe and then the other. All too soon, he could hear Darby’s sobs of pain but continued the punishment until he was sure the lesson had been well learned.

Rowan ended the spanking with one last solid slap on each burning cheek; then began the process of comforting the love of his life. He shifted them until they were lying face to face on the bed, drawing Darby into his arms to soothingly rub his back while rocking him in the slow, rhythmic fashion that always seemed to appease the over-wrought young man.

It took several long minutes until the crying abated and only an occasional shudder could be felt amidst the hitching breaths that followed such an emotional release.

“I-I’m sorry, Rowan,” Darby whispered, nestling closer and burying his face in the bigger man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for letting you down. I can’t even come up with a logical explanation for refusing to do what was best for my own health.”

“First off, my love, you probably let yourself down more than you did me. Secondly, feelings and logical rarely meet on the same playing field. I take it the issue of not wearing your glasses is a thing of the past, hmm?”

“Oh yeah, count on it. From now on I will follow Dr. Horsefield’s directives to the letter. I wish I’d had the sense to do so from the beginning,” Darby humbly admitted.

“Yes, good old hind-sight will get you every time. And just to make sure it’s planted firmly in your mind, you can write out ‘I will wear my glasses as instructed to avoid straining my eyes and getting headaches’ one hundred times while I’m preparing supper.” Rowan smiled at his Brat’s groan of frustration and tenderly kissed the damp, red curls on Darby’s head. “There’s no rush, Sweets. We can go downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

An hour later, Darby got up from the table where he had been sitting on a chair piled high with the pillows he’d confiscated from the three other kitchen chairs. He stiffly made his way over to the stove where Rowan was checking on the potatoes and handed over his writing assignment.

“Finished!” he announced on a note of relief as he gingerly rubbed his sore backside.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Rowan glanced over the sheets of paper and put them down on the counter. He pulled Darby into a loving embraced and gently kissed his husband’s lips. They stood with arms wrapped around each other until the timer let them know the pork chops were ready to come out of the oven.

Rowan smiled at his lover and encouragingly remarked, “The glasses really look good on you, Sweets. Your beautiful green eyes appear even bigger and brighter.”

Pleased with the compliments, Darby grinned back for a second or two and tightened his arms around Rowan’s waist. But he thumped his head in feigned irritation against his husband’s chest when his reluctant admittance caused the older man to laugh loudly. “Well thanks to you, Shelley and Skyy, I’m seeing clearly now.”

The End