A/N: I own nothing. This is just a fluffy story, hope you like it. Reviews are love.
Dwayne became my closest friend, and the person I could come to whenever something was wrong, or I just needed to let something out. He would just sit there and listen, because that's what he did best. Sometimes he would scribble something on his pad, and it was always important, but the only thing that really made me feel better was that I knew he was listening, really listening.
We did practically everything together, and became regular fixtures at each other's houses. His parents weren't that sure what to think of me, but his grandpa loved me. In Edwin Hoover's eyes, I was a goddess who would put Dwayne on the path to being a normal teenager. But the person who loved me the most was Olive, Dwayne's sister. It was almost hero-worship, but I didn't mind. Olive is and interesting kid, and loved to dance, just like me. We worked on dance moves together, and I was in on the secret of her dance routine/striptease. I thought it was individual, and unique, just like Olive.
My family thought Dwayne was a from of rebellion at first. The whole not talking thing freaked out Duncan, the responsible one who had his own law firm. Daniel, the artistic one who lived in the back of his van, thought it was 'far out'. Nathan, the troublemaker and extreme sports racer, was just glad Dwayne wasn't like him, and didn't seem that crazy. Sam, the sweet, smart one worked as a carpenter, and thought Dwayne was nice, polite, and treated me like a lady. However, all my brother's agreed on one thing; if Dwayne even so much as hurt my feelings once, they would do unmentionable things to him. This was said in front of me, while all my brother's were holding some kind of tool, or sharp object. They had been fixing Daniel's van, and all seemed gleeful at the thought of impaling Dwayne in the near future. Not likely to happen, but it made them feel better about me having a male friend who was not gay, and was not my boyfriend. Not yet, anyway.
Then Dwayne's uncle tried to kill himself the summer before our junior year. Dwayne didn't seem upset, but I knew he was a little worried. Then he had to share his room with Frank, who I met and actually liked. When they went on the trip to California, Dwayne called me to talk about our days. I knew it was him because he talked in taps: one tap for yes, two for no, three for maybe, and four for bye. It was kind of like a game. I would tell him about my day, and then ask yes or no questions about his day. But the next day, I got a call from Frank, who told me about Dwayne's breakdown after he learned he couldn't fly. I asked to speak to him, and when I heard the tap that told me he was there, I asked him if he was okay, and he spoke to me. "Cady." he said, "I'm fine, a little torn up about it, but it'll be okay." then, after I had recovered from my shock, he told me about his Grandpa died, the talk he and his uncle had, Olive's dance, and what happened after. When he got back he came over to my house. When I opened the door to let him in, he said my name again, and I just couldn't help it. I kissed him. To my complete surprise, he kissed me back.
At first, it was hard to be a couple, after being so comfortable with being friends for so long, but we got the hang of it. By the time we graduated, Dwayne still wasn't a big talker. When he did speak, every word was important to me, just like he was, but I didn't need him to tell me he loved me, just like he didn't need me to tell him. Because really, while all our talks were great, we didn't need words to convey our feelings to each other. When we got married, our vows were heartfelt, but it was the way he looked at me that let me know everything. When Dwayne held our son for the first time, we didn't speak, because there was nothing we could say that would describe just how wonderful we felt, except for two words, spoken in turn.