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“If I could go back in time and tell the past me that someday I’d be house-hunting in the frozen wasteland of North Dakota,” Legault remarks as they drive into Minot. “I would have laughed in my face.”
“Well, if I had told my past self that I’d be buying a house with a wanted criminal, I’d have laughed in my own face.” Heath shoots back, eyes not leaving the road. “Actually,” He adds, “I probably wouldn’t have even laughed. I would have just gotten very confused, and a little concerned.”
“Touche.” Legault says, peering out the window at the lines of fast food restaurants and outlet stores.
“This isn’t the nice part of town, by the way.” Heath says.
“I wasn’t saying anything.” Legault says defensively. “But since you mentioned it, thank God for that. North Dakota is a big enough change from city life without moving into outlet mall hell.”
The line of shops begins to thin and give way to the edges of neighborhoods as they pass by a sign saying “Why not Minot?”
“That’s always a good sign.” Legault says, pointing out the sign. “When the town can’t come up with any reason to go to Minot, so they just ask ‘Why not?’ and hope that nobody thinks too hard about it.”
“I think it’s more because it rhymes.” Heath replies. “Most people who don’t know better try to pronounce it the French way, like it rhymes with pinot. But North Dakotans love taking words from other languages and butchering the pronunciation, so Minot actually rhymes with ‘why not.’ To be fair, I don’t think that Minot has a flourishing tourism industry though.”
"I can imagine.” Legault says, looking out the window as they pass the university, which appears to be the centerpiece of the town.
“Legault.” Heath says after a few moments. “Are you sure you want to do this? Move here, I mean?”
“Yes.” Legault answers immediately, voice sure. “I mean, yes, I’m absolutely terrified that I’m going to freeze when winter comes and it’s -10 for weeks. And I’ll find it a little strange that there are no tall buildings, and I do find it disorienting to see so much sky and land with no people between towns.”
“You’re not really proving your point that you’re excited to be doing this.”
“I’m not. I’m terrified, to be honest.” Legault sounds flippant, but by now Heath can pick out what flavor of flippant means that Legault is nervous and trying to hide that it is, in fact, a big deal. “I’m already freaking out and we’re not even moving here yet, just house-hunting. But I’ve done a lot of things that terrify me, and at the very least I’m excited to be doing terrifying things with you.”
“Ok.” Heath says, satisfied. “I just wanted to make sure. Nothing’s done yet, we could still go back to New York. Or try somewhere else, like Colorado.”
“Nino would be thrilled. Ever since she’s started college in Boulder, she’s been lobbying for us to move there.” Legault’s voice fills with fondness at the thought of his...adoptive niece. “I told her that Colorado is much too hip for old men like us.”
Heath laughs at that, and it’s a sound that Legault never gets tired of. Heath laughs more and more now, but when they first met he was very serious, and so guarded that it took months before he’d do more than just crack a smile, no matter how Legault flirted and joked.
“Right, 27 and 29. We’re ancient.” Heath deadpans.
“At this point I’m practically 30, and everyone knows that’s the beginning of the end. I found two gray hairs last week.”
“Colorado is nice, I’ll admit.” Legault continues. “That was one of my favorite places from our road trip way back when. But I think it’s good for Nino to have her own space.”
“She can always come visit.” Heath adds. “Flights from North Dakota are usually painfully expensive, but there are decent flights between Denver and Bismarck.”
“She can come in the dead of winter so she can suffer alongside her beloved uncles.”
“You mean one beloved uncle and one melodramatic uncle.” Heath says.
“Semantics.” Legault replies, waving his hand dismissively.
They stop for lunch at a diner on Main Street, which is charming in a quaint sort of way. Heath orders some sort of overcomplicated sandwich and Legault orders coffee and eggs, enjoying the way that Heath’s face lights up when he sees that they serve kuchen.
“What even is kuchen?” Legault asks, most likely butchering the pronunciation terribly.
“It’s kind of like a pie filled with custard? I’m not sure exactly how to describe it.” Heath says. “I do know that it’s German and delicious, which is what’s really important anyway. My grandmother used to make it whenever we went to visit her.”
“I didn’t think you liked sweets all that much.”
“I don’t.” Heath admits. “But kuchen brings back good memories.”
“Do you know how to cook it?” Legault asks.
“You know, I have a family recipe.” Heath says. “But it makes about 40 kuchens, and I don’t know what we’d do with 40 kuchens, so I’ve never tried it.”
When the waitress comes back, Legault asks her all about kuchen, listening raptly as she gushes about how kuchen is something he has to try since he’s not from around here. Legault asks about her favorite flavors of kuchen and then ignores her answer, ordering a piece of all four different flavors. Heath rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his excitement when they all come out to the table.
Legault takes a bite of the strawberry-rhubarb slice, not sure what to expect.
“It’s good.” He declares. “I’m not a big dessert person, but I like it.”
“Here,” Heath says, pushing another plate towards him. “Try this one. It’s peach and cheese.”
The kuchen is good, even if it’s not something Legault would seek out to eat. He’s not a huge fan of sweets either, but he and Heath taste all four flavors, and ultimately declare strawberry-rhubarb to be the best.
“You know.” Legault says, wiping crumbs off his mouth. “I think a little bit of your accent is coming out since we’ve left New York.”
“Really? People here don’t think I have that much of an accent of any kind.”
“Well, maybe not a strong one. But I can hear it when you say words with Os, like Dakota.” Legault explains. “It’s cute. I like seeing you here, on your home turf.”
“Technically I’m from Bismarck, which we passed about two hours ago.” Heath corrects him. “Minot and Bismarck have a similar feeling, but I wouldn’t want to live in Bismarck again. It would feel too much like going back in time, but it’d be strange without my parents. Plus, I’m sure I would run into people from my high school, and that’s awkward enough without tacking on the fact that I’m a deserter moving back to a place where people revere the military.”
“Then we’ll just have to stay away from introducing ourselves as a deserter and a criminal when we’re trying to make new friends.” Legault says, glancing around to make sure the waitress isn’t in earshot.
Heath smiles. “You make it sound so simple.”
“I like to pretend things are simple.” Legault says. “Then when they are, I can pat myself on the back for my life philosophy. And when they’re not, I don’t waste energy worrying about them beforehand.”
“I’m not sure if that’s incredibly wise or incredibly stupid.”
“Probably both.” Legault admits. “But it got me here, so I must have done something right.”
They finally go to see the house, which is in a neighborhood a few blocks across the street from the university. None of the houses look particularly posh; in fact, a lot of them look a little bit run down. But they have kids toys in the yards, and twee decorations on the windows, and to a born-and-bred city slicker like Legault, seeing so many houses in one place is always a bit of a treat.
Heath has made a list of about five houses having showings on the weekend that they’re in the area, but they only made a specific appointment to see one of the houses. It’s nothing special, but it’s in their price range and has all of the things they wanted, and besides, Heath had taken an instant and irrational fondness to it. Considering Legault was the one in their relationship that tends towards irrational fondness towards random things, be it houses, shiny things, or people, the fact that the house “spoke to” Heath was not something they planned to ignore.
The real estate agent is a middle aged white lady named Deborah, who looks like a very typical North Dakotan. She has a slight accent and ends all of their phone calls with “Mmm, bye,” something that Heath hadn’t even noticed but Legault found charming. She isn’t rude about it, but obviously is a bit confused about the fact that the prospective buyers are two adult men.
“How did you two meet?” She asks them as they walk into the house. It’s a question that straight people love to ask, because it’s a fantastic way to pry without being too direct.
They’ve had many conversations about how to answer questions like this. Besides the fact that they’re a queer couple about to move to a fairly conservative area, neither of their pasts is something that it would be a good idea to share with strangers.
Heath, born and raised in this community, is much warier than Legault about these things. Legault is happy to lie about almost anything, but has never particularly felt the need to hide himself and his partners, regardless of their gender. It had taken several serious conversations before he was able to begin to empathize with the fact that some people did not have the luxury of a more blase attitude, and Heath’s reticence to be open did not stem from shame, but fear and caution. Even in this day and age, living as a couple would draw scrutiny and microaggressions, at the very least.
So they compromised. When talking to strangers, they agreed to be vague about their relationship, saying only that they had met as college roommates (a lie that Legault enjoyed, since neither had ever gone to college) and lived together ever since. And if they began to make friends, they would feel out the situation, with the intention of eventually letting down their guard about the nature of their relationship around a group of trusted friends.
It wasn’t a perfect situation, but knowing how to handle it made things a lot easier. And this way, they would never have a repeat of the situation where a friend of Nino’s asked who Heath was to Legault and Heath responded, “cousin” just as Legault said “lover.”
“We met in college.” Legault tells Deborah. “At NYU.”
“You’re from New York City?” She exclaims. “Well, what brings you all the way out here?”
“I grew up in Bismarck.” Heath says, accent thickening slightly. “I wanted to move back to be near my family.”
“Oh, my sister lives in Bismarck! I was there just last week for my niece’s third birthday party.” She continues to chat about her family, distracted enough that blessedly, she forgets to ask why Legault, who is obviously not from around here, came along.
“Anyway, I’ll let you two have a look around.” She says, finally realizing she’s strayed off topic. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
They walk around the house, somewhat unsure of just what they should be looking for. In New York, apartment hunting was never a problem. Legault lived in a comfortable but discreet apartment, and Heath had lived in a tiny but cheap apartment in Jersey city with two roommates and a dog. Eventually, Heath moved in with Legault and that was that.
The house is not huge, but it’s a decent size, with a nice kitchen and a connected living room. There’s no formal dining room, but there’s room for a dining table in the kitchen. Down the hallway, there are two bedrooms and one bathroom. Downstairs is a basement that consists of a single room with a door that opens out onto the small backyard. The front door opens onto a small porch with a rocking chair that the previous owner presumably left behind. Next to the house is a small garage that would fit only a smaller car, but that’s fine Hyperion’s not that large anyway.
They do one full walkthrough of the house without saying anything, until Heath asks, “Well, what do you think?”
“Honestly,” Legault replies. “I have no idea.”
“We’re not very good at this, are we?” Heath says, with a wry smile.
“Maybe we should try the whole ‘walking through the house’ thing again.” Legault says.
They start in the kitchen this time, and try to actually think about what it would be like to live there. Neither are all that into cooking, but they look at the oven and, more importantly, the microwave, and declare it to be more than adequate.
As for the living room, it’s fine. Or at least Legault thinks it’s fine. He has a hard time picturing his furniture in this house because his furniture has always been apartment furniture. Finally, he stops trying to mentally force his couch into the empty space below the largest window and his mind jumps instead to an image of Heath lying on the couch, reading a book. Suddenly, the entire image, couch and Heath and all, seems to appear inside the house, and it works.
If he makes sure to include Heath in all his mental pictures of how this house might look with their stuff in it, he can start to see how this house could really become theirs.
“What do you think?” Legault asks Heath.
“Let’s go look at the bedroom.” Heath says, face hard to read.
They look at the largest bedroom first, because it’s the only one that would fit their almost unreasonably large bed. Back when Legault’s life of crime was at its peak, he had impulse bought a ridiculously expensive bed, and even though his situation, financial and otherwise, had radically shifted since then, the bed remained one of the best purchases he’d ever made.
“We could put the bed here.” Heath says, gesturing to the wall furthest from the door. “And then we’d still have room for a dresser, which we’ll need because of all your clothes.”
“What about your clothes?”
“My clothes would all fit in this very reasonably sized closet.” Heath says. “Yours would not.”
“Fair point.” Legault concedes. Another holdover from the days when he was much wealthier due to his illegal activities with the Black Fang is the rather large wardrobe he’s amassed.
“And then this bedroom can be your office.” Heath says, already moving into the smaller bedroom next door. “We could put a daybed in here too.”
When they’d first started talking about potentially buying a house together, they’d each made a list of things that they wanted in a house. One of the things that Legault had realized that he wanted was an office, partially because he mostly worked online from home, and partially because the idea of having an office felt very official and fun.
Heath had no problem with the idea of Legault having an office space, but suggested that if they had an extra room anyway, that they put a daybed in it. They slept together most night, but every so often Heath (and on the rare occasion, Legault) just wanted to sleep alone, entirely in his own space. Eventually, Legault had stopped viewing it as a sign that Heath was upset with him, and they’d agreed that it was fine for either one to want to sleep alone, but the person who wanted to sleep alone had to take the couch rather than kick the other person out of the bed. Having a daybed had been Heath’s idea, probably because he slept on the couch more often, and the couch, while comfortable for sitting, was just too short for him to fit on completely comfortably.
“I like it.” Legault agrees. “I see a desk here.” He gestures to the area with the most light from the window. “A daybed here.” Another gesture. “And maybe a lifesize bison statue here.”
Heath looks at him, torn between bemused and concerned. Ever since their original road trip around America, which was also when they began their relationship in earnest, Legault had become fascinated with the bison they’d seen while driving through Wyoming and North and South Dakota.
Legault gives Heath a look that usually means he’s about to poke at Heath until he gets a reaction. “You’re not laughing at that.”
“That’s because I know you’re not joking.”
“Of course I’m not. We’re moving to North Dakota, I fully intend to decorate this house using bison as the unifying theme.”
“Legault,” Heath starts, then pauses, giving up on whatever it was he was planing to say. “You know how big bison are, right? Maybe we can at least go for a scale model.”
“Hmmm, that’s a fair point. Do you even think that they make life-size bison statues?” Legault muses.
“Probably.” Heath says. “But I don’t think any of them are for normal homes. Besides, I think we would confuse the neighbors.”
“Right, and we agreed that we would try to avoid scandalizing the neighbors if possible, at least for a little while.” Legault sighs in mock defeat. “Fine. I guess I’ll think about alternatives. Like a bison mural. Or a large decorative tapestry.”
Heath’s face looks caught between a laugh and a grimace. “We’ll see.”
After that, everything in the house seems to fall into place. There’s room in the living room for Legault’s favorite chair, and the basement is the perfect space for Heath to set up his woodworking materials. The garage seems practically made for Hyperion, Heath’s beloved vintage car, with enough room left over to store the various gadgets he uses to work on her. The visions of their furniture in the house, their life in the house, grow clearer and clearer in Legault’s mind.
“How do you feel about it?” Legault asks again, after they’ve done their second walk-through.
“It feels...” Heath pauses, searching for words. “It’s not all that pretty, or particularly special. But it feels right.”
Legault looks at him, surprised at such a strong endorsement, especially one based entirely on vibes.
“What I mean is,” Heath continues, confusing Legault’s look for confusion. “Some things seems like they might not be a great idea on paper, but when you do them, you feel like you’re in the right place in the universe. Do you ever feel that way?”
“Sometimes.” Legault says, memories of watching a meteor shower with Heath in the absolute middle of nowhere, Idaho, popping into his head.
“Well, I feel that way when I’m out on Hyperion. Or when I was up in the air, even though everything else about the air force felt wrong.” Heath says, caught up in memories too. “Or when I’m with you.”
Heath is rarely forthright about his feelings, at least vocally, but when he is, he says it in such a matter of fact way, like it’s just a simple fact of the universe. It’s happened several times, but each time Legault feels like he’s been sucker punched in the heart. But in a good way.
Deborah, or Real Estate Lady, as Legault has been calling her in his head, is probably hovering somewhere, maybe in her car outside, so Legault keeps his emotions in check, but he can’t help moving over to stand behind Heath, take his hand, lace their fingers together, and squeeze.
“It feels right to me to.” Legault says. “To be here in this house. And to be here in this house with you.”
“Even if this is a frozen wasteland for half of the year.” Legault adds, unable to help himself.
Heath squeezes his hand back. “Nothing a few bison tapestries can’t fix.”
They tell Real Estate Lady that they want the house. She’s absolutely thrilled, and says that she’ll bring the paperwork over the next day.
Even though they haven’t really done all that much, they’re both quite tired, so they grab takeout Thai food and head to a hotel. At the hotel, they immediately go to bed, Heath turning on some home improvement show or another, his version of mindless tv.
As soon as he’s laying down beside Heath, Legault realizes that he’s finally releasing a breath that he’s been holding all day. He knows that he’s spoiled in this aspect, but back in New York he’s not used to having to watch himself, to hold himself back from touching Heath for fear of attracting attention. Minot though, is not his home turf, and all day he’s been watching himself, to make sure he doesn’t do anything that would bring back Heath’s anxieties that stemmed from growing up bisexual in North Dakota. But it’s worn him down. Legault and Heath aren’t even all that physically affectionate in public in general, but the fact that it’s forbidden now makes Legault’s fingers itch.
But here, in the hotel, there are no such rules, and once they have a house here, there will be no such rules either, and thank God. Legault’s younger self might have thought him boring, but Legault cannot think of feeling more content than at this moment, pressed up against Heath’s side, fingers lazily running up and down Heath’s arms, playing with his fingers to make up for the fact that they’ve been neglected all day, occasionally pressing a lazy kiss to Heath’s palm or shoulder or cheek.
“Legault,” Heath says, sounding significantly more worried and less blissful than Legault feels.
“Mmm.”
“What are we doing?” Legault can feel Heath’s worry by the tension in the arm that’s around his shoulder. “I mean, are we crazy to move out here? Buy a house?”
“Probably,” Legault says. “But not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s an adventure.”
“Not most people’s idea of adventure.” Heath says. “What if North Dakota really is as bad as people say it is, worse than I remember as a kid? What are we going to do with our free time? You’ve had such an eventful life, how are you going to be happy here?”
Legault waits as Heath trails off before turning and kissing him deeply. It’s not that he’s trying to prevent having a conversation, but he learned early on in their relationship that Heath likes kissing. A lot. And more than that, the combination of endorphins and the intense physical proof that someone is there and cares about him relaxes him, helps him acknowledge his worries without letting them control him.
Back when they had just gotten together, they could spend hours just kissing, without it having to lead anywhere, because it made Heath happy and soothed his unspoken anxieties that he was just a fling. And Legault certainly wasn’t complaining, especially given that Heath kissed with his whole being and tended to hold on tightly to Legault’s hands, or neck, or hips, or anywhere else within reach, grasping on like he was afraid to let him go even an inch away. Legault always has had a bit of a thing for Heath’s hands anyway, so feeling all the emotion expressed through those hands on his skin...it’s not something he’s going to get tired of anytime soon.
So sometimes when Heath is worried or stressed, or they’re talking about serious things, they kiss. For most couples, it would be a diversion tactic, a way to avoid the issue at hand, but for them it’s a way to have better conversations afterwards. It brings Heath back to earth, grounds him in his own body so he can face whatever challenges or feelings there are to be faced.
So Legault kisses him until he feels the tension start to seep out of Heath’s body, and Heath’s grasp on his shoulders begins to feel firm rather than desperate.
Legault pulls back, looking Heath in the eye. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” And then kisses him once more, for good measure, before continuing.
“You’re going to find a job here, probably as a mechanic because according to you, people here love their cars but forget how to drive in the snow every winter. I’ll keep working online, and if I get bored, I’ll volunteer at the library or drive an Uber.” Heath laughs at that, and Legault can feel the laugh in his body. “When it’s not too cold, you’ll ride your motorcycle on the open roads outside of town, where there’s nothing between you and the sky, and maybe if the weather’s nice I’ll join you on mine. And in the winter when we have to hole up inside, you can set up a wood shop in the basement and I’ll paint and learn how to bake kuchen. If I get really bored, I’ll take up knitting and make you and Nino scarves in the ugliest colors I can find.”
“I’ll become a North Dakota State University fan because their mascot is the bison, and on the weekends we can watch the hockey games. I saw on a sign that Minot’s hockey team’s mascot is the Minotauros, which is either the greatest or stupidest mascot name I’ve ever heard of. I mean, it’s clever that it has Minot in the name, but they could be called the Minotaurs and it would still work.”
“Somehow we’ll find the five other queer people in this part of North Dakota and maybe we’ll actually make some friends, albeit friends who we don’t tell about our pasts. In the spring we can take road trips around the state, because the first time we came here I was so freaked out by so much sky that I think I missed all the sights. Maybe we can go down to Bismarck and visit the relatives that you don’t hate. And we’ll take some space to breathe, because I love New York, but it’s hard to breathe there, and we can spend some time working on our hobbies and dreams. Maybe we can get you a pilot’s license so you can fly again, and I...well, maybe I’ll figure out what my dreams actually are.”
“The point is we’ll just live, the way we’ve been living in New York. It won’t be perfect, but we’ll work it out, and if we don’t like it, we can always move to Colorado to scare anybody Nino dates in college. Or if you really are having second thoughts, we can tell the realtor that we need more time and go back to New York and regroup. I’ll admit, as much as I complain about North Dakota being a wintry wasteland, I’m actually kind of excited about coming here. But what’s more important than being here is being with you, so if you want to go back to New York, that’s ok too.”
Legault runs out of steam here, feeling suddenly winded at the realization that he actually is excited to come here, to buy a house and build a life with Heath, in a place with less noise to hide behind.
“Heh,” Heath smiles at him, looking a little hesitant, but much more relaxed than before. “Life sure has a way of turning out in the way you least expected, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” Heath says, taking Legault’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m still nervous, but I’m even more excited to close on this house and start living that life you just described, even though it’s not a life I ever imagined having.”
They go to sign the papers tomorrow, and Deborah is incredibly helpful at guiding them through the mounds of forms that never seem to end.
“I could be signing away my soul and I’d never know it.” Legault jokes.
“Don’t worry,” Deborah tells him, winking. “I only give those forms to buyers I don’t like.”
Finally, they’re done, and even though they still have the challenge of moving all their stuff halfway across the country, having the forms signed and the keys in their hand makes it all feel much more real.
“Congratulations, you just bought a home!” Deborah tells them. “I’ll stay in touch, so if you have any problems or questions, or if you just need a friend in town, give me a call.”
“Thank you, we will.” Heath tells her, already thinking about how he’s going to set up the garage.
Deborah looks like she’s about to leave, but before she turns away, she adds, “And if you ever make it down to Bismarck, let me know. I’ll make sure my sister and her girlfriend give you a warm welcome.”
“Thank you, we-” Heath starts, words sputtering off as he processes what she just said.
Legault takes his hand and Deborah doesn’t bat an eye. “Thank you Deborah, we certainly will.” He says, and she smiles and waves.
“Look at that.” Heath says. “Maybe there are more than five queer people in the state of North Dakota after all.”
“I should hope so.” Legault says. “But more importantly, we just bought a house.”
“So we did.”
“And in case you ever doubted that I love you, I want you to know that I am moving to North Dakota for you.” Legault tells him. “And that’s something that I bet a lot of people wouldn’t do.”
“I don’t doubt that you love me,” Heath says. “You tell me that all the time.”
“Hey,” Legault pouts. “You’re not reading the script here. Now you’re supposed to thank me for being such a wonderful partner and tell me what you’d do for me to prove your love.”
“I didn’t think we were still in the ‘prove your love’ state of our relationship.” Heath says, smiling. “But if it makes you happy, I love you enough that I’m going to let you decorate our lovely new house with as many tacky bison decoration as you want.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” Legault tells Heath as they walk through the doorway of their house.