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.