MAIN CHARACTERS: Danny/Martin

Editors' Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Come and Gone #5, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Come and Gone that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Dani Martin was the primary author of this story, she had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 8-2-2010. Art by Shiloh.

I was working on our latest case when I heard him enter the bullpen. He was a little slow coming around the desks and I wondered if it was his legs that were giving him trouble. Hell, I wasn't surprised. He'd damned-near died, and they say everything's connected, right?

Blue eyes met mine for just a second and then darted away.

I know I let him down when he first came back to work, avoiding him like I did. But I just wasn't ready to face him – to face the feelings I'd discovered were inside my heart.

He wasn't ready to face that, either.

He didn't know it, but I talked to one of his doctors about him. I lied, told the guy Martin was "more than a friend," and let him decide what I meant by it. But it was enough.

Probably only worked because we were both FBI agents, and he'd been the one who kept Jack updated on Martin's progress, so he was used to talking about Martin to another agent.

Anyway, he told me Martin was lucky, damned lucky. Hell, he called it a freaking miracle that Martin was alive at all, let alone able to go back to work. But Martin's a stubborn man. And he hates to lose.

I know he's still having problems eating, but I've made sure they're sticking some healthy stuff in the vending machines now – fruit cups, applesauce, that kind of stuff.

He doesn't think we notice, but I do, and so does Jack and Viv, too. Sam probably does, too, but she's avoiding him more than anyone.

She's feeling guilty, like she ought to have fallen in love with him again so she could be there for him now, but it doesn't work like that.

There for a while I wondered if the shock might not force her into something, but I guess her fear of commitment is worse than I thought. As soon as Martin woke up, she was gone.

Me, I was there – while he was in the hospital, anyway. Once he was well enough to go home… Well, hell, I don't know. I just couldn't see driving all the way over to his place when he was okay…

Stupid, really stupid.

I called him almost every day, but he never asked me when I was going to drop by, either. I guess I kind of figured that now that he'd had some time to really think about what had happened, he was mad at me.

I couldn't figure out what he'd be mad about, but I was convinced he was mad at me.

Like I said, stupid, really stupid.

One of the times I called he talked about not coming back. I'll tell you, that hurt more than when I saw him sitting there in that car, bleeding to death…

I stopped calling after that. Guess I thought if he was mad at me, and thinking about not coming back, then not talking to him might give him the space he needed to reconsider.

Did I mention how stupid I was?

But, you know, it made me mad, too. It made all of us mad.

Jack and Viv even planned a little revenge party.

I don't know what they said to him – they were the only two who went over – but, after that, Martin started working his ass off, got himself back into shape.

I guess that nurse he had helping him did him some good, too.

Sam was ready to rip her face off, but she was there with Martin day in and day out. I guess she made him feel like a man again…

Hell, I figure he needed that. But I knew it wouldn't last.

And Sam really didn't have any right to get pissed off like that. She'd had her shot, and she was the one who'd forced his hand, not the other way around.

Personally, I think Martin's too good for her. Sam's still so in love with Jack it isn't funny, but Jack's moved on. She can't, though. She tries, but she'd be a lot better off if she'd just admit she's still in love with Jack and then figure out why.

I have my own theories on that…

Anyway, Martin took full advantage of all the extra medical stuff his parents paid for. Only the best for their son…

Of course they couldn't be bothered to see him much, but they were more than happy to pay for nurses and physical therapists and all that. Guess he was lucky they did. Or maybe he was just smart enough to take advantage of it.

When he first came back to work, though, he sure as hell wasn't showing off any new dance steps. He looked like shit, pure and simple.

I wasn't sure it was going to work. He didn't have the fire in his gut any more.

I couldn't help but wonder if that had been part of what they'd taken out while they were patching him up…

But as soon as we got a case, he jumped right into it, did everything he could to help out. 'Course they weren't letting him leave the office at that point. But the man does know his way around a database – it's a gift.

Any one of us could've done the things he did, or we could've gotten one of the techs to do it, but Martin did it. It made him feel useful.

And Jack said something about Martin needing to feel like he'd earned his place back on the team, so we obliged, letting him do all the scut work we usually complain about, even him.

I don't think it helped much that Jack had brought Elena in while Martin was chained to his desk. But, hell, the budget opened up and we got another opening for an agent so he jumped at it.

Made my life a little crazy for a while.

Elena and me, we have "history" as they say.

It really wasn't all that long before the doctors cut Martin loose and he was back out in the field, fist with his cane – which he hated – and then, finally, without it.

He kept up the physical therapy. First four days a week, then three, then two, then one… Hell, he's still going every other week as far as I know.

The man's in better shape now than he was before the shooting.

Well, except for his guts. The doctor told me that would be the last thing to heal. Said Martin would have Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I told him getting shot would make me irritable, too.

I wish there was something that could be done about that. I did a whole lot of research on it. That's where I came up with the idea of getting some good stuff put in the vending machines. And when I invite him to lunch with me, I make sure we go places that have the kinds of things he can tolerate.

Don't think he's noticed I've suddenly acquired a whole new set of restaurants to frequent, or, if he has, he's never said anything about it.

Viv usually goes with us, which makes things easier for me. I don't have to try and come up with conversation. I just sit there and eat and watch him…

Yep, I've become an A-number-one Martin-watcher.

I can tell by the way he moves if he's having a good day or a bad day.

It only took me about a month to realize changes in humidity bother him. And I think I knew inside a couple of weeks the extra fiber he was stirring into his coffee was keeping him regular.

Man, what you'll do when you fall in love with somebody!

It was at lunch one afternoon that I realized how I felt for the first time. I was just sitting there, watching Viv transfer a couple bits of her pasta to Martin's plate and, suddenly, I realized that I loved the man.

That shook me up pretty bad.

I've always found Martin attractive, I guess you'd say. And I think he's one of the best agents I've ever worked with, and one of the few really decent people I've met.

The man's a natural leader, too, although he's happy playing second fiddle to Jack. One of these days, though, he's going to have Jack's job.

And he's got loyalty to spare.

He's also damn good looking, and with all the working out he's been doing to get himself back into shape, well, what can I say? His body's a thing of beauty.

When he was lying in that hospital bed, fighting for his life, I knew I loved him, but it was sitting there in that restaurant that I knew I was in love with him.

Gone.

Hook, line, and sinker.

But what the hell was I supposed to do about it? Martin dates women. And then there's Sam, and Home Nurse Big-Tits.

Okay, so I know Sam's off his radar, but what about that nurse? I just didn't know.

So, there I was that afternoon, sitting at my desk, wishing I had chance in hell with Martin, and there he was, hobbling in to join me.

I kept working.

Martin walked over and sat down at his desk, watching me.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. Long enough I was honestly trying to come up with something to say just to break the strained silence.

Martin beat me to it.

"You think I should call it quits?" he asked me for the second time.

I stopped and looked over at him. It was an honest question. "No."

"You don't?"

"Martin, you have to expect a few bad days, right? You look great, things are going okay with the PT, your guts are better than they were… You're getting better."

Martin nodded. "Guess it just doesn't feel like I've made that much progress."

I laughed at that. "Hell, Martin, most people wouldn't be this far along. I know the doctors must have told you that, right?"

He blushed when I said that, and, I have to admit, it's a sexy look for him.

"Yeah, I know… Sorry," he added, shaking his head. "Guess I'm just throwing myself a pity party. Don't mind me…" He waved his hand, trying to dismiss the whole thing.

"Hey," I said, "nothing wrong with a party… Just have to invite the right people, that's all."

"I don't think I'd make very good company for anyone right now," he said.

"Tell you what, why don't I take you to dinner tonight and afterwards we can grab a movie and watch it at your place," I replied and he looked up, his expression half-surprised, half-hopeful. I grinned. "No party, just us working stiffs enjoying a little down time."

He grinned. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, if you don't already have plans…"

"Nope, my calendar's clear, m'man. Consider yourself lucky."

"You really sure?" he asked, his expression earnest.

I shrugged one shoulder. "Well, I can always break out the little black book; see if I can find us some female companionship…"

"No, thanks," he said, shaking his head.

"Ah," I said, seeing an opening I could take advantage of. "So, you and the nurse…?" I held my hands up to indicate two of her most obvious assets.

He looked at me, those gorgeous blue eyes rounded with surprise. "What? You mean Kathy? She's engaged," he said, a little shocked.

"You two? Already?"

Martin rolled his eyes. "Not to me! To an architect."

I grinned. "Oh. I just thought…"

"You thought wrong," he said emphatically.

Interesting… And here I'd thought she'd been one of the reasons he'd done so well…

"Hope her fiancé doesn't think that…" Martin muttered.

"He a big guy?" I asked.

Martin nodded.

I grinned. "I wouldn't worry," I replied.

"You wouldn't?"

"Naw… You've been doing all that PT; he's just been sitting at a desk…"

He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, well, he's not—" He stopped and shook his head.

"What?'

He shook his head. "Nothing, lost my train of thought."

"You need something to eat. Come on," I told him, and we wrapped up and made our way to the elevator. We rode to the parking garage in silence, and exchanged small talk on the way to my car and then to the restaurant.

It wasn't too crowded when we got there, and the hostess put us in a table toward the back. Inside half an hour we had our meals in front of us.

"It looks like your legs are giving you trouble earlier…" I said, trailing off when I saw the look of near-panic pass though his eyes.

He shook his head. "No, it's not my legs. Guess it might look like it, but it's my guts."

I made a face. And that would explain why he was just picking at his food. "Sounds… uncomfortable."

He shrugged. "It'll probably clear up in a day or so…"

I nodded. "You know, I've been wanting to tell you… I'm sorry I didn't come by more often when you were at home recuperating."

"It's okay," Martin said. "I wasn't real pleasant to be around at that point."

"Still, we're teammates and I should've been there for you."

Martin smiled. It was a kind, sad smile, and I wondered what he was thinking. "I'm not sure it's supposed to work like that," he said. "We're not supposed to get that close, you know? What we do is too damned dangerous for that."

"Too late to worry about it now," I told him. "Been like that for a while."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know… But it's dangerous. We've all walked the edge, and almost slipped off. It's going to happen, too… sooner or later. Doesn't even have to be job-related. I mean, look at Viv…"

"Yeah, I know," I said. "But it's all we've got… Better than what a lot of people ever get."

He looked up, meeting my eyes. "Is it? Is it good enough for you?"

"For me, yeah," I said, nodding. "Guess you'd have to ask the others if you don't already know the answer."

"Hell, Danny, this job's cost Jack his marriage."

"No," I corrected, shaking my head, "it just put the nail in the coffin a little sooner."

The look on Martin's face was kind of wistful, kind of sad, and it made me a little uncomfortable. It was too easy to read it the way I wanted to – as a kind of desire.

"Uh, you done with that?" I asked, pointing at his plate.

He nodded.

I flagged the waitress down and got the check. Martin insisted on paying his half, so I let him. Then we headed out.

I bypassed the DVD rental and took him straight home, saying, "Look, Martin, you should get some rest," when I pulled into one of the drop off spots in front of his building. "You put a lot of strain on your body today."

He smiled a little sadly. "Yeah, guess you're right. But what about those plans you were talking about earlier?"

What was I supposed to say? Oh, no big deal, I'm just going home and jerking off while I lay there, thinking about you… I decided on, "You have any good DVDs?"

He looked down at his lap. "Doubt you'd think so… But, uh, would you—? Uh, would you mind if I asked you to, uh, give me a hand?"

I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but whatever it was, I knew I couldn't say no. "I can do that," I said. "Whaddaya need?"

He jerked his head toward the stairs leading up to the entrance of the building. "I, uh, still have some trouble with stairs… especially if my guts are giving me trouble."

I pulled out of the spot and drove around to the parking garage, finding an empty spot close to an elevator.

I climbed out of the car before he could say anything and walked around to open his door. "Want me to piggyback you up?" I offered, wondering what he'd think if he knew I'd love to do that.

He laughed. "No, it's not that bad. I just get a little weak in the knees by the time I get to the top of the stairs. I can make it in the elevator…"

"Okay," I said, "but I think I'll ride up with you, make sure you get there. Besides, I can take the opportunity to scope out your DVDs…"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, that kind of sad small smile on his face. God, but I do love the man's smiles.

We headed up to his floor and he took it slow and easy, pausing to rest a little once before he moved on. And, he was right. By the time we got to his door his legs were shaking with fatigue, or maybe it was just that his guts were really giving him trouble. I reached out and wrapped one arm around his waist, just in case his knees buckled.

"I feel like a damned fool," he said, a little out of breath, although I guessed that it was from the pain, not the short walk from the elevator.

"Hey, so you still have a little ways to go," I said, helping him into his apartment once he unlocked the door. "Nothing wrong with that, Martin. You almost died after all."

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled.

I had to grin. "Time, Martin, just give yourself a little time."

I took him back to his bedroom and my own stomach did a little flip-flop. There I was with the man I love in my arms, standing in his bedroom, nobody else around, and all I could think about was how fast I could get the hell out of there.

"So, uh, you take it okay from here?" I asked, trying not to sound too anxious to leave.

He nodded and I took a step away from him and started to turn, but he stopped me when he asked, "Danny, I'm sorry, but can I ask one more favor before you leave?"

"Sure," I said, sending a silent prayer to God, asking Him to keep my desire under control. The last thing I needed was a hard-on giving me away.

"I, uh…" His face turned deep red with embarrassment.

"Martin, what?"

"I need to spend a few minutes in the bathroom, but I'm afraid my legs might start cramping as soon as I lay down afterward. Could you, uh, stick around a little bit, just in case? I mean, if you can't, I understand," he adding quickly.

"Hey, no problem. You want me to rub 'em when you're ready?"

His eyes widened a little, but he flashed me a grateful smile. "Sure you don't mind? I can give the home health care folks a call, get someone to come by tomorrow…"

I shook my head. "Naw, I'm already here. Besides, I have great hands."

"And you know this because all the ladies say so?"

I just grinned.

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. "If you want to check out the DVDs, they're in the cabinet in the front room," he said, shuffling off toward what I guessed was the master bath.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Yell when you're done."

He nodded, shuffling away a little faster.

I hurried out, hoping it might make it a little easier on him. If the situation had been reversed… Well, let's just say I doubt I would've handled that as well as he did.

I went in and checked his cabinet, finding it nearly full of DVDs. I was a little surprised at the number, and the variety. I smiled when I spotted some of my personal favorites included in the mix.

So, our tastes in movies and old TV series weren't that far off. I wasn't sure if I was glad about that or not.

A few minutes passed before I heard the toilet flush, then the sounds of Martin moving in the bedroom.

"You doing okay?" I called.

"Yeah," was the answering reply, but his voice sounded funny so I headed back to the bedroom to check on him.

Martin shuffled over to the bed and I checked out the furniture while he pulled off his shirt and tossed it over the back of a chair. He left his T-shirt on. Then he slipped out of his pants and laid them on top of his shirt.

He sat down and untied his shoes, letting them drop right there next to the bed, which I just kind of knew wasn't normal for him. The socks were last to go, then he pulled back the blankets and stretched out on the bed.

All I could think was: Thank God he doesn't sleep in the buff!

The boxers he wore did a good job of hiding his cock, and I was grateful he wasn't a tighty-whitey wearer.

I walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, I rested my hands on his far leg, then asked, "How hard?"

"Pretty hard," he said.

I started kneading his thigh, eventually working my way down past his knee, over his calf, and down to his foot. I could feel his muscles twitch and jump under my touch, but after a few minutes they finally started to relax. He sighed heavily and I risked a glance up at his face. His eyes were shut, his expression telling me he was enjoying my work.

I shifted to the closer leg and started the process all over again.

Somewhere along the way Martin moaned softly and I glanced over my shoulder and saw his cock jump a little inside his shorts. I swallowed hard. When I got to his foot, I asked, "How's that?"

"Mmm," he replied sleepily, forcing his eyes open, "that was great. You really do have good hands, m'man."

I couldn't help it. I grinned. "Practice," I said.

"Ah," he said, but the corners of his lips turned down.

I started to stand, but he reached out and caught my arm. "A little more?" he asked, his tone so hopeful, so vulnerable, that I couldn't say no.

I nodded, but decided I'd better start with his feet this time. I didn't want to get any closer to that hidden dick than necessary. It was like a damn drug, and I was acting like a junkie.

I worked my way up his legs, and it wasn't too long before I was back at his thighs. He looked so damned comfortable as I worked, his legs totally relaxed, falling open just slightly. While my fingers kneaded his muscles, I watched his cock slowly snake down his leg, the head finally poking out from the bottom of his shorts. A single drop of precome formed in the small slit and it took every ounce of my willpower not to reach out and capture it on my finger. I wanted to taste it so bad it hurt.

When I looked up again, I realized Martin had been watching me while I'd been staring at his cock. I must have turned some share of red, but Martin didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry," he said quietly, blushing just like me. "It just feels so good… I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I said, trying to ignore his hard-on as I shifted my massage to his T-shirt covered chest. "I'm glad it feels good; it's supposed to."

He closed his eyes again as my hands gently moved over his chest and belly while I fought back the urge to reach down and pull his cock out of hiding. I really wanted to see it. I could tell the head was wide but rounded, like the cap on a baby's bottle – minus the nipple. I felt my own dick begin to stir, and by the time I got my mind off cock and back on hands, mine were rubbing over his pecs, my fingertips brushing over his hard nipples.

Moving faster than I would have thought he could, he reached up and grabbed one of my wrists. I froze, sure that he'd seen my desire. He pulled on my arm, his shoulders coming up off the bed. And, as he held me tight, his face getting closer to mine, but I couldn't move, I couldn't even breathe.

When his lips touched mine it was like I was kissing a live wire. I jerked back, breaking the contact, and groaned, closing my eyes. There was no way in hell he couldn't know that I wanted him – not now.

A moment later I was leaning forward, my lips closing on his, grinding, my tongue demanding entry into his mouth.

And his lips parted for me, too. I plunged inside and started shaking. The next thing I remember, I had him sitting up in bed, my arms wrapped around him.

His voice was soft, reassuring, as he whispered something against my chest. I couldn't make out the words, and wasn't sure I wanted to.

I leaned my head down to kiss his neck.

I don't honestly remember the last time I cried like that, but I could feel the tears just rolling down my cheeks, and I can tell you, I felt like a damned fool. But he either didn't notice, or he understood.

My hands started moving again, rubbing over his back while I continued to kiss him wherever I could reach. I groaned.

Martin must have read my mind, because he lay back down and I stretched out beside him. My mouth was immediately on his, our tongues wrestling. I ran my hand down his chest, pausing to squeeze and pull on one of his nipples through the soft cotton of the T-shirt. I kept at it until he was arching up off the bed.

My hand continued down, gliding over his shorts to cup his pulsing cock. He's thick and long, just the way I like it. I squeezed him, hard, and he moaned into my mouth.

I pulled back a little, my fingers still wrapped around his cotton-shrouded dick. "Martin," I panted, "you sure?"

He opened his eyes, his gaze pinning me with its intensity. "Very sure," was all he said.

My fingers tightened on his shaft and his cock jumped in response. "Why?" I asked.

"Don't you know?" he questioned.

I honestly wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. I wanted him to tell me.

He took a deep breath and I saw the tears fill his eyes. "In the hospital," he said, his voice thick, "I had a dream… I thought I was the only survivor…"

"I don't understand," I said, my hand moving, pulling up the hem of his shorts and taking his crown into my palm, his leaking precome quickly making it slick.

"I dreamed we were all ambushed… but I was the only one who got out alive."

I dipped my head, kissing his closed eyes, his tears sliding free at the corners.

"I couldn't— I was glad it was me, Danny."

"What? Why?"

"I couldn't— I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

"But—"

"Don't say anything," Martin whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a raw scratch. "I know you don't feel like that. I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't. Not any more."

All of a sudden I was light-headed. Had he just said what I thought he had? Had he just said he loved me?

His eyes opened and he reached up, pulling me down until my lips met his again. Our tongues teased. My cock was straining against my own pants, trying desperately to break free.

When we surfaced for air, I growled, "You gonna invite me to get naked, or what?"

He chuckled weakly. "If you want to," he said.

I stood and stripped down to my shorts in record time. I hesitated there, but he nodded so I pulled them off, my aching cock springing up to press snugly along my belly. That done, I reached out and pulled off his shorts as well.

When I went to take off the T-shirt, he stopped me. "The scars," he said, shaking his head.

"I don't care," I told him, trying again.

"No, please," he whimpered.

"Okay, baby, okay," I said, lying down beside him and wrapping my arms tightly around him, kissing him again. I couldn't get enough of his mouth.

I slid my hand down and cupped his crotch, his fully-hard dick more than a handful. I wrapped my fingers around him and began stroking, using his own precome to make him slick. He moaned and shoved himself into my fist.

Letting go, I spread out, not quite on top of him. I didn't want to put too much pressure on his chest, or his belly, if it was still giving him trouble. My mouth fused to his, and feeling his bare skin against mine nearly had me coming on the spot.

He's beautiful, and I wanted to taste every inch of him. I covered his face with kisses and worked my way down his neck. I bent down and nibbled on his nipple through the cloth.

Martin sighed so deeply I repeated the maneuver with his other nipple, then kissed my way over his covered chest to his groin. I held his dick in my hand and gazed at it for a couple of seconds. It was almost impossible for me to believe this was really happening, but it was. I could feel the warmth spreading from his cock to my palm, and I marveled at the way it pulsed with every beat of his heart.

I bent down and pressed my lips to the meaty shaft, kissing it softly. I let my tongue trail along its length, then swirled it over the head and probed into the slit. I teased him down to the base of his shaft, then kissed his sacs. I opened my mouth and sucked one of his balls into my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue, savoring the taste and texture.

My own cock was hard and aching and I looked up, my eyes meeting Martin's. His pupils were wide and dark, and his gaze bored into me as I continued to tongue his ball sac. I reached up and squeezed one of his nipples through his shirt. He closed his eyes and groaned.

I took his cock head into my mouth again, working my lips down the shaft. Martin began pumping his hips, and I matched his movements, bobbing my head to meet each thrust.

"Stop," he gasped a few seconds later.

I looked up. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head. "Too close… want in…"

Another wave of vertigo washed over me, but I shook it off. If this was a dream, I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He motioned me to him.

I scrambled up and straddled his chest, making sure I wasn't putting any weight on it. I have no idea how it was I knew what he wanted me to do, I just did.

Martin lifted his head and swallowed my dick. He worked his tongue around it as I started pumping my hips.

I watched as I slide in and out of his mouth, and I knew I had to be dreaming. There was no way this could be real.

I leaned back slightly, letting the sensations ripple over me, and stroked Martin's cock behind me.

A few seconds later it was like I'd heard him speak to me, but his mouth was still full of my cock. I pivoted around, my mouth closing on him, his closing on me again.

He ran his hands over my ass, his fingers burrowing into my crack, rubbing lightly over my hole. I thought I was going to pass out right then and there.

He pushed a finger inside me, worming it in as deep as he could and I felt my muscles clamp tightly around him.

He finger-fucked me until I heard my own groans bouncing off the ceiling and the walls. But I kept sucking him for all I was worth.

Moments later I was coming, my hips thrashing, my legs jerking.

He swallowed very drop I had to offer, and I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to finish him off, but as it turned out I didn't have to worry about it. I'd no sooner finished than he was shooting into my mouth.

I sucked him hard, urging him to give me as much as he could, then working on him even after he'd started to soften.

With the strength I had left, I carefully climbed over him and turned around, lying down beside him.

We kissed, our come mixing in our mouths.

I reached down and tugged the blankets up to cover us and held him. Martin drew several deep breaths, letting them out slowly.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Will be," he said. "Just been a while…"

I grinned. "You need some water or something?"

He rolled his head back and forth.

"I'll go grab you a washcloth," I said, kissing his cheek, then sliding reluctantly from the bed. I went straight to the bathroom and cleaned myself off, then took a leak. When I was done, I grabbed a clean washcloth and wet it with hot water, then wrung it out and took it back, cleaning him up.

Rather than taking the washcloth back to the bathroom, I just hung it over the rim of the trash can next to the bed and climbed back under the covers.

I pulled him back into my arms and pressed a kiss to his temple. "You okay?"

He nodded.

"Martin, say something, you're making me nervous here."

A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. "Feel… Wow…"

I smiled. "Okay, that'll do." I lightly stroked his chest. "Guess this makes you the come back kid," I teased.

He snorted and rolled his head. "G'night, Danny…"

I closed my eyes, feeling and hearing him drop off to sleep. A moment later, I joined him. The next day we made promises I didn't think we'd keep, but I hoped we would.

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