One Plus Two Equals... - 5

What the hell did I do to deserve this? Auden pulled the collar of his windbreaker tighter. Not that it did a damned bit of good; the rain still trickled between it and his neck, soaking the edge of his T-shirt. He vowed he'd go shopping first chance he got for a new windbreaker, one with an attached hood so he couldn't lose it.

Peering over the edge of the roof, he sheltered the lens of the camera with one hand as he shot some more pictures. Of course with the rain, most of the people were opening umbrellas the second they stepped onto the sidewalk; that or ducking their heads to keep the rain off their faces. Still, he managed to get a few good shots. He also recognized a few faces as people from the previous night. Some of them, he was pretty sure, were just employees at the businesses inside the building, but he wasn't going to take that as gospel until his boss had checked to confirm it.

He was seriously considering calling it a night and finding something else to do when Vicario stepped out of a limo which had just pulled up to the curb. Following him were the two men Auden had recognized last night. All three of them hurried into the building.

Now do I stay here and wait until they leave or do I get nosy? He was very tempted to be nosy but he was under orders to stay away from the man for the time being. Discretion being the better part of valor, or so it was said, he obeyed orders. It paid off when half an hour later he saw another man who was a known confederate of Vicario's scurry from a cab to the front door of the building and vanish inside.

"Slowly but surely the troops gather," Auden muttered under his breath. "Now we just have to find out why and if some of the people I've been photographing are part of whatever's going down."

It seemed like hours later when he finally called a halt to what he was doing. He was wet and tired and needed food, a hot shower, and some sleep. Arriving at his condo he headed straight to the shower, taking a long one that eased the chill in his bones. Then he dealt with his hunger, fixing a thick steak with all the trimmings. Finally, he collapsed into bed and instantly fell into a deep sleep.

One Plus Two Equals... - 4

Three hours later Julyan might have debated Duane's words as he put the last box of perishables on the long table in the center of the restaurant's kitchen.

"I think you made the shopkeeper a rich man."

Duane grimaced. "A few of them unfortunately. The joys of starting from scratch for everything. From now on, it'll be easier."

"Is this the first time you've owned a restaurant?"

"Actually, no, but last time I had a partner who knew what she was doing. I just had to run it while she dealt with the details."

Julyan nodded as he began to empty the box, putting the contents into the walk-in freezer at one side of the room. "What made you decide to go off on your own?"

"A difference of opinion. She wanted to make our partnership permanent, as in marriage. I wasn't interested."

"Ouch. That would have made for some tension."

Duane snorted. "To put it mildly. So I signed my half over to her and moved down here to start over."

"Not that I know much about anything but I'd say you should do all right. This place is comfortable looking. Well, the dining room. It seems to me it should bring in both tourists and locals."

"On what do you base that presumption?" Duane picked another box to empty while they talked.

"Nothing really other than I'd eat here, or I suppose I should say I'd give it a try just from looking at it. If the food's as good as the ambiance, you'll have a winner."

"Let's hope so since I sank my last nickel into it." Closing the freezer door, Duane glanced around then beckoned for Julyan to follow him. "Unless I missed something, we're finished so come into the office and I'll pay you."

"You don't have to. I can wait until payday," Julyan protested.

"I know you could use some money in your pocket now, so deal."

Julyan laughed, saluting. "Yes sir."

"Come on, I'm hardly old enough to be a sir."

Looking at him, Julyan had to agree. He judged the man to be only a couple of years older than him at most, and very nice looking to boot. For a second he wished Duane wasn't straight, but that was usually the story of his life so he shoved the errant thought back where it belonged, thanking him when he handed him some cash. "Whoa, this is way too much," he instantly protested.

Duane chuckled. "It's cheaper than my needing to go to a chiropractor when I put my back out doing all the hauling myself. So… deal." He grinned.

"Yes… sir." Julyan grinned back, pocketing the money. "I should leave you to it now, but I'll be here at nine on the dot tomorrow morning."

"All right, see you then, and thanks for the help."

"No problem. See you in the morning." He grimaced a minute later when he walked outside to find it was raining. Not hard, but enough to make him move quickly until he got to the trolley stop on St Charles.

One Plus Two Equals... - 3

Duane woke slowly, groaning when he realized he'd overslept. He had too much to do, and there weren't enough hours in the day to waste any more time than absolutely necessary with sleeping.

He hurried to the bathroom, taking care of business, pausing just long enough to cast a glance at the mirror on the door. It showed a slender young man of average height with a mop of brown hair sorely in need of cutting. As if I have time right now, but I have to do it before the grand opening.

As soon as he was dressed he was out the door, grabbing a sweet roll as he passed the kitchen. He ate it while driving down to Magazine Street and the restaurant, cursing the fact he hadn't snagged a couple of paper napkins as well when the steering wheel got sticky fingerprints on it.

Unlocking the rear door, he went into the back hall of his new venture, smiling when he saw the kitchen with all its shiny fixtures. All he needed to do now was order the food but that had to wait until his two chefs put in an appearance which should be… He checked the time again and made a dash for the front door to find the couple standing there waiting patiently. After apologizing fervently for being late, he led them back to the kitchen where the three of them sat down to go over the menu items so they could give him a list of what to get.

It was early afternoon before he had a free moment to breathe. If going over the many lists he'd compiled when he'd started this venture could be called breathing. At least he was more than happy to discover almost everything was checked off now as completed. Tomorrow he'd be meeting with all the waiters, waitresses, and bus-people he'd hired to go over the rules and their duties.

Leaning back in the chair he was using in the dining room, he stared at the wall he'd so painstakingly decorated. I might not be an artist, but I do have a decent eye for what works, and this does, he thought with satisfaction. A rap on the front door brought him back to the here and now. He turned to see Julyan standing outside and got up to let him in.

"I was just… I don't want to be a bother," Julyan said hurriedly, "but you said you'd call."

"Damn, sorry. It's been one of those days. I never even got the chance to check your references but honestly at the moment I don't care. You start in the morning. Be here promptly at nine for a group meeting."

"Thank you!" He started to leave then obviously thought of something. "What should I… How should I dress?"

"Tomorrow, it doesn't matter. That's part of what the meeting's about, to let everyone know what I expect, including proper dress. You won't have to worry until Friday when we open for business."

"Got it. Thanks again." He was halfway onto the sidewalk when Duane had a thought.

"Look, if you're not doing anything at the moment I could use some help. You'll be paid for your time."

"Sure. Trust me, I could use the money."

Duane chuckled. "I sort of got that impression. Come on in while I get my lists."

Julyan did, leaning against the wall while he waited.

Duane was back almost instantly, carrying a pad of paper. "Most of what I need for the chefs I've ordered from suppliers but there are a few things I want to get for myself to make certain they're the quality we need."

"A few?" Julyan eyed the crabbed handwriting which filled the top page.

"It's not as bad as it looks but I still appreciate having someone along to help lug stuff to the van."

One Plus Two Equals... - 2

Auden studied the building across the street from where he knelt on a rooftop, camera in hand. Each time someone entered or exited, he took a picture of them. Most of them would be useless, he knew, since the majority of the people were just customers of the shops or eateries housed in the building. Still he needed to know which ones were frequent visitors. It would take several nights of doing this before the information could be collated so he could make use of it.

Foot traffic from the building slowed down momentarily as it was closing time for the shops. He took advantage of it to move away from the parapet, stand and stretch his tall, muscular frame.

"Surveillance sucks," he grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair. "But it's a necessary evil."

Going back, he picked up the camera and went back to work. At one point he smiled tightly when he saw two faces he knew from the information he'd been given. Looks like the bossman was spot on. He took shots of them while wondering how Mr. Vicario, as he called himself—the subject of his investigation—was planning on using the men in question. Whatever he's got in mind for them it's not happening if I can help it.

Several hours later, he was finished. Everything in the building was closed now, with most of the lights off, but his eyesight was extremely sharp—enough so  that even in the near dark he'd seen the security guard lock it down for the night. Auden made his way down to the alley via the fire escape, strolling casually from there out onto the dimly lit street. At this hour the only people around were restaurant and bar workers heading home after a long night, which sounded like a good idea to him.

He arrived back at his condo in one of the high-rises facing the river and immediately booted up his computer so he could download the pictures. He'd keep a copy and send one on to his boss with the hope that names could be put to some of the faces. He needed to know who might or might not have been at the building to see Vicario, other than the two men he'd recognized.

            With that completed, Auden headed to his bedroom, showered, and fell into bed.

One Plus Two Equals... - 1

(Note: This story was first published in 2012.)

Duane stepped back to look at what he'd accomplished and smiled. The collage on the long wall of his soon-to-open restaurant had come out just as he'd envisioned it. He'd collected pictures of New Orleans from its founding days up until the present, had them copied and blown-up, and then spent too many hours tacking them up to the wall, moving them from place to place and re-tacking them until he'd gotten the balance of color to black and white the way he'd wanted. After adhering them in place he'd used a clear, matte sealer to finish the job.

"Perfect," he murmured happily before setting to work adding objects he'd picked up at the local voodoo shops and antique stores. When they were all hung randomly throughout the collage it would add the third dimension he wanted.

"Whoa, that's fantastic!"

Duane spun around to see one of his newly-hired waiters standing in the open doorway. He grinned and made a sweeping bow. "Thanks. It was work but I think it came out all right."

"More than all right." The young man, Jack if Duane remembered correctly, stepped into the room to check it out. "You have a good eye for atmosphere."

"Again, thanks. What brings you here?"

"Oh. Yeah. I wanted to tell you if you need more help, my roommate just got laid off and could use a job. He's done restaurant work and so…" Jack shrugged.

"Sure, send him along. I still need a couple more waiters just to be on the safe side."

Jack grinned, going back to the door to beckon to someone. Duane observed the newcomer with a practiced eye when he came into view. He looked to be twenty-three or four at the most, well-dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, with relatively short hair. Jack introduced him as 'Julyan, with a 'y'.' Julyan Elwyn.

"Interesting name," Duane commented.

Julyan shrugged, chuckling. "Came with the birth certificate. Seems my mother was a romantic."

"Jack says you need a job?"

"Yes. Rather desperately I'm afraid, what with rent coming due soon. I don't want to take advantage of Jack's friendship any longer than necessary without paying my share."

"Come with me and I'll give you an application. Unless you're a wanted criminal or don't know the difference between jambalaya and gumbo, I'll probably hire you."

Julyan followed Duane into his office. "Native born Louisianan so trust me I know the food, and I've paid both my speeding tickets so I doubt there's any wants-and/or-warrants out for me."

"Both are pluses," Duane replied with a laugh, handing him the application. While he waited for Julyan to fill it out, he did some bookwork he'd been putting off, until his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a minute then hung up. By then Julyan was finished and, after scanning the form, Duane nodded. "I'll check your references of course, but off-hand I'd say you're hired."

"Thank you. Believe me, Jack will appreciate that."

"Are you two…?" Duane left the question hanging.

Julyan shook his head. "Just friends. We met at the last place we both worked, he needed a roommate and I figured what the hell. Then, two weeks ago he got laid off, which should have been a warning sign. Three days ago, it was my turn. If he didn't have money saved, we'd be out on the street soon."

"All right, I'll call you."

Obviously taking that as his cue to leave, Julyan did. As soon as he closed the door Duane made a phone call and then returned to the dining room of the restaurant to finish what he'd been doing.

Fear - 68

"That's quite the mouth you have on you," Gene commented the next morning as he dried his hair. Just watching Shawn drying off then wrapping the towel around his waist had Gene thinking about heading back to bed again. I'm becoming addicted. He smiled with wry amusement. Not something I planned on happening.

"You don't like my ribald jokes?" Shawn replied innocently.

Gene snorted. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I know." Shawn came over, pressing up against Gene's still naked body. "I liked doing that, especially since it led to much more interesting things when I finished."

"It could have led to you being one very frustrated kid. I was damned close…"

"But you didn't." Shawn broke in, grinning. "I knew what I was doing, and when to stop."

Rather than reply to what would be a fruitless argument, Gene took the high road and kissed him, then turned him toward the door and told him to go get dressed. He almost swatted his ass playfully and quickly thought better of it. He knew Shawn's memories of Jared were still too fresh in his mind.

Twenty minutes later they were down in the kitchen fixing a late breakfast.

Max had called much earlier, waking them actually, to let Shawn know that under no circumstances was he to come in to work, even though it was Saturday. "You need to heal and I suspect Gene's helping you do just that," Max had said with a laugh. Shawn hadn't argued the point.

"Scrambled or fried?" Gene asked, as he took the eggs from the refrigerator. "Sausage or bacon?"

"Scrambled with sausage and"—Shawn came up beside him to see what else was available—"cheese. Make it an omelet."

"Sounds good to me." Gene went to work while Shawn set out plates and utensils and put bread in to toast.

When his phone rang, Gene was tempted to ignore it but being a doctor, he couldn't, even if his office was closed for the weekend. So he took the pan off the burner and pulled his phone from his pocket.

He discovered it wasn't a medical emergency when he saw a name come up on the caller ID. Soon he was shaking his head in obvious disbelief as he listened to what the caller had to say, murmuring a few questions and responses along the way. When the call ended, he turned to Shawn, who had been trying unsuccessfully to eavesdrop.

"Talk about the dumb leading the dumber. It seems Jared thought that with you out of the way he could renege on the plea bargain since it was your word against his if it came to trial, and if you couldn't testify—"

"He'd get off scot free. Damn, even I'm not that stupid. So how did he convince that man to come after me?"

"He told him he had some money stashed away that he'd split with him."

Shawn snorted. "As if. Money and Jared were passing acquaintances at best most of the time. How'd the guy think he'd get away with grabbing me anyway? It's not like he was wearing a disguise or something."

"As I said, the dumb leading the dumber. He probably figured he'd walk into the garage, you'd be right there, and he'd take you and vanish before anyone knew what was happening."

Shawn took a deep breath. "Guess I'm lucky I was way at the back, working on Mr. McAlister's car, not right there by the office."

"Very lucky." Gene gave him a hug. "For both of us, I think."

"You only think?"

"Okay, I know it was." He went back to the stove to finish making their omelets, dishing them on to the plates soon afterwards. He realized as he did that Shawn was just standing there, a troubled look on his face. "Not the way you like them?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, they look great. I was just thinking, what if Jared brings in another buddy to try again?"

"From what the officer who called said, when I asked the same thing, Jared won't be allowed any more visitors, other than his lawyer, until he's sent to Cañyon."

Shawn let out a sigh of relief. "So it's really over."

"I'd say so. Now, sit down, eat, and enjoy, and afterwards we'll figure out what to do to keep us busy and out of trouble today."

"Had to add 'out of trouble', didn't you?"

Gene grinned. "I'm beginning to know you well, so yes. We are not spending twenty-four hours shacked up in bed."

"But… but…" Shawn faked a pout, which was belied by the laughter that followed seconds later. He plopped down on the stool and began to eat, still chuckling.

He's happy, truly happy, for the first time since I met him. Please, God, don't let anything happen to change it.

With that in mind, Gene took the other stool and while they ate, they planned out the day's adventures.

The End

Fear - 67

"You're crushing me," Shawn muttered when he could finally breathe normally and talk again. "Not that I'm complaining…too much," he added, wrapping his arms around Gene when he tried to roll away. Moments later he found himself lying on Gene's chest, and took advantage of it to kiss him, murmuring, "That was nice."

"Only nice?" Gene looked at him in mock horror.

"Well"—Shawn paused dramatically—"maybe wonderful, fantastic…"

"Magnificent, spectacular?"

"Um-hum. And then some."

"Couldn't ask for more than that." Gene smiled, tracing the sharp lines of Shawn's cheekbones. Then he frowned, easing Shawn onto his side on the bed. "Let me look at your arm."

"Why? It's fine. Oh." Shawn shuddered. There was blood seeping through the bandage.

Gene immediately told him not to worry. "But I should have thought about it before we…" he said contritely as he slid off the bed, "I'll be right back."

"It wouldn't have mattered. I'd have done it anyway," Shawn called after him.

"I probably would have too," Gene replied moments later, when he returned with a first aid kit in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed the old bandage, examined the wound then covered it with antiseptic before re-bandaging it. Setting the kit on the floor, he moved the rest of the way onto the bed, taking Shawn in his arms again. "Now, we sleep."

"Did I wear you out, old man?" Shawn asked with a grin which was followed seconds later by a yawn.

"Wore me down at least," Gene admitted, chuckling.

Shawn curled into him, a happy smile on his face. "Then we sleep, and in the morning…"

"We eat breakfast so we have the energy to do this again."

"Uh-uh. We do it—and then eat breakfast."

"We'll see." Gene kissed Shawn's temple. "Now go to sleep."

"I am," Shawn murmured. And he did.

Fear - 66

"I didn't have a choice with…" Shawn looked away, chewing his bottom lip.

"Well you do now." Gene lifted Shawn's chin. "I'm not him. You have a choice in everything we do, and the right to say 'no'." He kissed him gently. "Understood?"

Shawn nodded. "So if I said I wanted to fuck you…"

"You can."

"Okay, but I don't want to. I actually like being fucked, when it's… when I know it's… well, you know."

"Done as a part of making love, not just to release tension and anger."

"Yes," Shawn whispered.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

Shawn grinned suddenly. "No. I like sitting around with a raging hard-on next to a man who's just as hard. Maybe we should break out the Monopoly game to entertain ourselves."

"I don't own one," Gene replied with a straight face.

"Good, because I hate Monopoly and I think I'll love being fucked by you."

"Only one way to find out." Gene quickly stripped off his pants then leaned over to take a condom and lube from the nightstand.

"Hey, I thought you said no one ever used this room."

"No one does, but I'm a doctor, I believe in being prepared for any eventuality."

"I thought that was the Boy Scouts."

"Shush," Gene growled, tearing open the condom packet. "You're throwing me off my game."

Shawn took the condom, saying as he rolled it onto Gene's engorged cock, "If this is 'off your game' I'm not so sure I want to see it when you're on the game." Sitting back when he'd finished, running his hand slowly up and down Gene's sheathed member, he asked, "Do you want me on my knees?"

"No," Gene replied quietly. "On your back. I want to see everything you're feeling while I make love to you."

"I like that idea," Shawn said, his eyes lighting in anticipation as he laid back, lifting his legs.

Gene leaned in kiss him. Once again the kiss turned heated and exploratory as they tasted and savored each other's mouths. When they eventually broke apart, Gene lubed his fingers, easing one into Shawn.

When he touched Shawn's gland, Shawn almost made a joke about doctors and exams. The rolling waves of pleasure instantly sent that idea out the window.

Gene carefully stretched Shawn, his gaze never leaving Shawn's face. Then he spread a generous amount of the lube on his cock and very slowly entered.

Shawn bit back a cry of pain, turning it into a groan. Apparently Gene wasn't fooled. He stopped, watching him with concern.

"Do it," Shawn moaned. "Please. I want… I'm all right. Honest."

It seemed to take an eternity in Shawn's estimation until Gene had filled him. He's so different, so careful, so… so not Jared. It was his last coherent thought before they began moving together while Gene wrapped his hand around Shawn's cock, stroking it in rhythm to his riding Shawn.

"Yes," Shawn whispered as his balls tightened. "Yes!" he shouted, exploding, acutely, elatedly aware when Gene did as well, seconds later.

Fear - 65

Shawn looked at Gene, aware, suddenly, that all he was wearing was a pair of sweatpants. He licked his lips, his gaze homing in on Gene's torso. It wasn't muscular the way Jared's had been, a fact he found somewhat reassuring. He didn't need the kind of memories that would have brought on.

He began to lightly trace the well defined lines of bone and muscle, running his fingers over Gene's rib cage.

Gene hissed in a laugh. "Ticklish there."

"Oh really?" Shawn's eyes took on a devilish glow. "And here?" He ran the tips of his fingers lightly up Gene's sides to his armpits.

"Shawn," Gene cautioned, grabbing his wrists loosely to stop him. "If you keep that up I'll be…"

"Really turned on?" Shawn looked down at the rapidly growing tent in the front of Gene's sweats. "And if I do this?" Using Gene's hold on him as leverage, he leaned in, running his tongue around each nipple. When Gene groaned, Shawn licked and sucked each one.

Suddenly he was on his back with Gene's mouth capturing his in a heated kiss. For a split second he panicked, trying to fight him, then he gave in, returning the kiss as given, with need and hunger.

"You're a little demon," Gene growled, breaking the kiss. With one smooth movement he sat back on his heels and pulled the too large shirt up over Shawn's head, tossing it to the floor. "A cute one, but still a demon." He circled one finger around each nipple then took one between his fingertips, teasing it into a hard bud, following suit with the other one.

Shawn felt a rush of desire that went straight to his cock. He gasped when Gene slid his hand under the waistband of his jeans, wrapping it around his rapidly swelling member.

Gene looked down at him, amusement and lust in his gaze. "I suppose you want more?"

"Hell yes," Shawn managed to get out, followed by another gasp. "Please," he moaned.

"I could be persuaded to, for a kiss."

Shawn sat up enough to wrap his arms around Gene's neck, going in for a kiss and an exploration of his mouth that had both of them groaning.

"Now let's get you out of those damned pants." Gene took hold of the waistband, flipping the button open, unzipping, and pulling them down and off with Shawn's eager assistance. "Question before we go any further, are you a top or a bottom?"

Shawn kept his anger hidden as he replied, "What do you think?"

Leaning back, Gene studied him as if contemplating his reply. "I think you've always bottomed. But was it by choice or necessity?"

Fear - 64

Gene shot up from a dead sleep at the sound of a panicked shout. His first coherent thought was that someone had broken in looking for Shawn and had found him. Grabbing one of the swords from beside the bookcase, he raced down the hallway to the guestroom, flinging the door open so hard it hit the wall.

Shawn gasped, cowering against the backboard of the bed, his face ashen with fear. He took a deep, gulping breath, his eyes blank as he stared blindly off into what Gene instantly decided was some dark nightmare.

Dropping the sword, Gene crossed to the bed, his voice low and firm as he said, "It's all right, Shawn. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you."

Still cowering, Shawn blinked once and then again, before focusing on Gene. He shook his head as if to dispel whatever he'd been dreaming about. "I thought… I thought…" His whole body began to shake.

Gene sat, gathering Shawn into his arms. "It was a dream, only a dream."

"It felt so real. I've never…" Shawn buried his face on Gene's shoulder. "I've had bad ones before, but never like this," he whispered.

Stroking his hair, Gene replied, "You've never had anyone try to kill you before. Beat the shit out of you, yeah, but never try to murder you."

"I…guess." Pulling away, he looked at Gene. "You don't pull your punches."

"I don't see any reason to, now."

"But you never did, not really. You didn't do the 'poor you' thing with me."

Gene nodded. "If I had, you'd have traded your dependency on Jared for depending on me—and not in a good way. The truth might not always be pretty but it's what you needed."

Shawn thought about that. "You're right," he said finally, curling up beside Gene. "Here's a truth for you. I want you."

"I know," Gene said.

"I mean right now."

"I know."

"So?"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Strip you naked and have my wicked way with you."

Gene smiled, leaning back, hands behind his head. "Have at it."

Fear – 63

"Did your parents know what happened with that guy?" Shawn asked.

"No. Oh they might have suspected toward the end that something was wrong but I never told them. I was too ashamed." Gene smiled wryly. "Maybe if I had said something, I'd have gotten out of the relationship a lot sooner. My father would have made sure of that."

"He was bossy?"

"No. He was a psychiatrist, so he'd have sat me down and pointed out exactly what was going on in words of two syllables to make sure I got it." Gene shrugged. "Of course, first I'd have had to visit them, which I didn't. My excuse was that med school kept me busy, which it did."

"And the guy didn't want you to."

"Got it in one." Gene gave the soup one last stir then ladled it into two bowls, which he set on the island along with a loaf of bread, butter, plates, and utensils. Then he sat down beside Shawn, cautioning him to eat slowly.

"I'm feeling better now, a bit," Shawn told him, tasting the soup. "This is good. Did you make it?"

"Nope. Sorry. It came straight out of the container. But it is from the natural food store so it's a bit tastier than canned."

"Much tastier," Shawn stated.

They ate in silence, glancing at each other occasionally but saying nothing until they'd finished. When the dishes were rinsed and in the washer, Gene suggested Shawn should go upstairs and sleep.

"You've had a long, hard day, to put it mildly. You need to rest," he said when Shawn started to protest.

"I can rest here." Shawn told him, heading into the living room to settle on the sofa. "I'm still too hyped to sleep. Honest."

"Who's the doctor, you or me?" Gene grumbled, taking a seat at the other end of the sofa.

"You," Shawn admitted reluctantly, resting his head on back of the sofa, turning it so he could still see Gene. "I just don't want to be alone quite yet." He closed his eyes. Moments later they snapped open as he sat straight up, looking around fearfully. "Damn it!" He shivered.

Gene moved quickly to sit beside him. "No one's going to come after you again. Jared wouldn't be stupid enough to send anyone else. And if he was, they wouldn't look for you here."

"I know…I guess. God, I wish I'd never met him." He sighed, leaning his head on Gene's shoulder. "Of course," he said slowly, "if I hadn't met him then I wouldn't have met you."

"Very true, although I'm not certain that I'm much of a reward for all he's put you through."

"I disagree. You make everything else worth it." Shawn looked up at Gene, grinning a bit. "You're an Oscar, an Emmy, a Heisman Trophy."

"A what?"

"You know, that football thing? Oh wait, that's the Super Bowl ring." He took Gene's hand, tapping his ring finger. "It would look great on you."

Gene snorted. "Somehow I doubt I'd be in contention for one." Taking his hand back, he slid his arm around Shawn. "I think," he said quietly, stroking Shawn's hair, "in fact I'm fairly certain, it's over now and you can start living your life on your own terms."

"Can my terms include you?"

Gene hesitated. "I think so. We seem to be moving in that direction."

"Good," Shawn said sleepily, exhaustion finally overcoming his desire to continue the conversation.

Chuckling, Gene said, "Come on, let's get you up to bed."

"In the guest bedroom?"

"Um-hum. I think that's the best place for the time being." Standing, Gene held out his hands, carefully pulling Shawn to his feet when he took them, mindful of his injured arm. "I have a pair of sweats you can change into."

"I'll look like a clown," Shawn protested as they walked slowly upstairs.

"A very cute clown, so shush." He opened the door to the guest room, ushered Shawn in, and told him he'd be right back. When he returned with the sweats, he stopped at the door, smiling. Shawn was curled up on the bed, sound asleep. After hanging the sweats over the back of the chair, he carefully removed Shawn's shoes and folded the comforter over him. Then he kissed his forehead, turned out the light and left.

Fear - 62

Gene stopped long enough in the front office to tell his receptionist he'd be gone for the rest of the afternoon, and then with his arm around Shawn's waist, they went out to Gene's car.

"You know, Linda's going to mother the hell out of you," Gene said with a smile as they pulled out of the lot onto the street.

"No she won't, because I'm not going to Max's."

Gene cocked an eyebrow in question. "Why not?"

Shawn grinned, albeit barely since he knew he might be pushing limits. "If I'm going to be mothered, I rather it be by you so I guess that means I get to use your spare bedroom."

Both Gene's eyebrows shot up at that statement. "Excuse me? I don't recall saying that was going to happen."

"But you would have when it occurred to you. Right? I need TLC and I can't think of anyone better to give it to me than my doctor." Shawn kept his gaze serious as he prayed Gene would agree.

For a moment it looked as if Gene wouldn't. Then he laughed. "You're quite the little manipulator. Okay, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have you close by in case of complications."

Shawn laid his head back, sighing in relief. "I wasn't really trying to manipulate you. I just…" His hands started shaking and he gripped them together so Gene wouldn't notice. "I don't want to be alone."

"Like you'd have been alone at Max's." Gene snorted softly, glancing at Shawn. "Hey now…" He reached out to put his hand over Shawn's. "Finally realizing what happened?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, big time I think, now that everything's calmed down. Damn, Gene."

"Come here." When Shawn slid over, Gene put one arm around him while keeping an eye on traffic. "You're going to be fine. It's just delayed reaction to all the hullaballoo."

"Hullaballoo?" Shawn smiled a bit. "That sounds like something a dude in a Western movie would say."

"Well, I did grow up watching them."

"You're not that old."

"Reruns, kid, reruns. My father was addicted to them." Gene pulled up in front of his house and parked as he said that. "Okay, let's take you inside and feed you."

"I'm not sure my stomach can handle anything right now," Shawn replied as he got out, following Gene.

"We'll see. I have soup and bread." Gene led the way to the kitchen once they were inside. "Sit while I heat it up."

"Comfort food?" Shawn asked, claiming one of the stools by the island.

"Yep. My mother used to make soup and crackers when I was sick. It always made me feel better." Gene chuckled. "Unless I had the flu. Then what went in came right back out. She never did quite get why. As far as she was concerned, soup was supposed to calm my stomach, not make things worse."

"Did your parents know you were gay?"

"Did, and still do."

"You mean they're still… Oh yeah, they would be wouldn't they." Shawn shook his head.

Gene laughed. "Mom's fifty-three, my father's fifty-eight, and they're still both as active as ever."