(damned cocktail—he was pretty sure there was something in this go-around that was messing with his coagulation, because he'd had a hangnail the week before that had barely healed) so he could smolder at the guy and make him blush. But no, here was Collin, god of sex, with his nose in the air, trying to keep his mother from getting too close while he HIVed all over the place.
Oh holy shit and wait just a cotton-fucking-minute.
“You rebeber be?”
Jeff's shook his head and rolled those expressive brown eyes again.
“Wow, boyfriend, you're quick! You keep picking up speed and next time, maybe you won't let the terrified teenager bolt out the door!” “He bwoke by noze!” Collin protested, feeling as though he really were not being seen at his best here.
Jeff huffed and softly manipulated Collin's tender tissue. It hurt—it hurt like a sonovabitch, and the cool, impersonal touch was just that— cool and not sweaty or blushy or hot or any of the things that Collin had dreamed about. Jeff was holding himself back, too, so that their faces weren't that close, and he was looking Collin in the nose and not the eyes—ouch! Collin winced, because dammit, that hurt!
“Yeah, sweet thing, I know it hurts, but I don't think it's broken. An ice pack, a change of a shirt, and you'll be ready for date night, right?”
Ah-ha! An opening. “You buyin'?” Collin tried to make his eyebrow waggle as grown-up as he was feeling these days, but Jeff actually had the nerve to tousle his hair.
“Oh, baby, you are precious. Can't you see I'm waiting for a backlog of emotional luggage to clear customs? Dinner plans are so not in my future. Here, Ms. Collin's Mom, let me get that, okay?” Carefully, Jeff took the ice pack away from Natalie, who looked at her son with wide eyes and a bemused smile.
Collin found himself batting Jeff's hands away and taking the ice pack, putting it firmly against the bridge of his nose. “Sit, Momb, I beed to go change.” He had to—you just didn't wander around in a bloody shirt when you were infected, now did you? “Web be cwean ub, firtht, 'kay?”
Jeff patted his shoulder and sighed. “I'll clean up, big guy. You were trying to do the knight in shining armor bit, the least you could let the gay-man-in-distress do is pick up the wreckage.”
Collin tried to protest, but Jeff waved him off, his eyes getting wearier as he did so. “Go, Galahad, go. I need something to do while I wait for them anyway.”
Collin trotted across the field/parking space to his garage next door, where he had a big sink with stiff scrub brushes and lots of industrial strength hand-cleaner, as well as a couple of changes of clothes. For a minute, he was reassured—the smells of hot engine oil and concrete were home to him, and his manhood reasserted itself. A pat on the head? Like a little kid? Oh hell no! Jeff, the guy Collin had been thinking about (stalking) for the last year was finally talking to him—there was no way he was going to let it go at that!
Josh was underneath the hood of a much-abused family minivan as Collin ran in, and still underneath it as he ran out. The car was on the hydraulic lift just far enough for Josh to lie underneath and his feet were sticking out. Collin skidded to a halt, though, as he was trotting through the practically pristine garage bay, and turned around to say something.
“Christ on a cracker, Joshua, how long does it take to replace a fucking blower in the A/C unit?”
Joshua startled, because Collin heard his head thump on something, and something else clattered down through the car's engine to bang on the concrete below. “Goddammit, Boss, do you think the blower's the only fucking thing wrong on this piece of shit? The blower's done, but they've paid for an hour, and I'd like to see this thing vaguely improved by the time they get it back, that okay with you?”
Collin grinned. Joshua was like a national treasure or something. Fully straight, a grandfather of four,
Oh holy shit and wait just a cotton-fucking-minute.
“You rebeber be?”
Jeff's shook his head and rolled those expressive brown eyes again.
“Wow, boyfriend, you're quick! You keep picking up speed and next time, maybe you won't let the terrified teenager bolt out the door!” “He bwoke by noze!” Collin protested, feeling as though he really were not being seen at his best here.
Jeff huffed and softly manipulated Collin's tender tissue. It hurt—it hurt like a sonovabitch, and the cool, impersonal touch was just that— cool and not sweaty or blushy or hot or any of the things that Collin had dreamed about. Jeff was holding himself back, too, so that their faces weren't that close, and he was looking Collin in the nose and not the eyes—ouch! Collin winced, because dammit, that hurt!
“Yeah, sweet thing, I know it hurts, but I don't think it's broken. An ice pack, a change of a shirt, and you'll be ready for date night, right?”
Ah-ha! An opening. “You buyin'?” Collin tried to make his eyebrow waggle as grown-up as he was feeling these days, but Jeff actually had the nerve to tousle his hair.
“Oh, baby, you are precious. Can't you see I'm waiting for a backlog of emotional luggage to clear customs? Dinner plans are so not in my future. Here, Ms. Collin's Mom, let me get that, okay?” Carefully, Jeff took the ice pack away from Natalie, who looked at her son with wide eyes and a bemused smile.
Collin found himself batting Jeff's hands away and taking the ice pack, putting it firmly against the bridge of his nose. “Sit, Momb, I beed to go change.” He had to—you just didn't wander around in a bloody shirt when you were infected, now did you? “Web be cwean ub, firtht, 'kay?”
Jeff patted his shoulder and sighed. “I'll clean up, big guy. You were trying to do the knight in shining armor bit, the least you could let the gay-man-in-distress do is pick up the wreckage.”
Collin tried to protest, but Jeff waved him off, his eyes getting wearier as he did so. “Go, Galahad, go. I need something to do while I wait for them anyway.”
Collin trotted across the field/parking space to his garage next door, where he had a big sink with stiff scrub brushes and lots of industrial strength hand-cleaner, as well as a couple of changes of clothes. For a minute, he was reassured—the smells of hot engine oil and concrete were home to him, and his manhood reasserted itself. A pat on the head? Like a little kid? Oh hell no! Jeff, the guy Collin had been thinking about (stalking) for the last year was finally talking to him—there was no way he was going to let it go at that!
Josh was underneath the hood of a much-abused family minivan as Collin ran in, and still underneath it as he ran out. The car was on the hydraulic lift just far enough for Josh to lie underneath and his feet were sticking out. Collin skidded to a halt, though, as he was trotting through the practically pristine garage bay, and turned around to say something.
“Christ on a cracker, Joshua, how long does it take to replace a fucking blower in the A/C unit?”
Joshua startled, because Collin heard his head thump on something, and something else clattered down through the car's engine to bang on the concrete below. “Goddammit, Boss, do you think the blower's the only fucking thing wrong on this piece of shit? The blower's done, but they've paid for an hour, and I'd like to see this thing vaguely improved by the time they get it back, that okay with you?”
Collin grinned. Joshua was like a national treasure or something. Fully straight, a grandfather of four,
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