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"And inside, inside is war all the time"
-- "Lilith/Eve" by Machines of Loving Grace
"I know your life is empty
And you hate to face this world alone
So you're searching for an angel
Someone who can make you whole...
I can not save you...
I can't even save myself...
So save yourself
I know that you've been damaged
Your soul has suffered such abuse
But I am not your savior
I am just as fucked as you..."
-- "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward
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//This is sad, Danny, really sad.// Daniel Pendrell looked at the wall rack of guitar string packs and still couldn't find the ones his brother had asked for. //Asked for? Told you to get and knew you would. No one even asks anymore, not when Danny is such a nice guy.// He should ask one of the employees for help but, out of some urge to wallow in self-pity, didn't.
//I should be doing better things with my Saturdays. The sad thing is, I don't have any better plans.//
Danny felt uncomfortable wandering among all the jamming musicians testing instruments and equipment. As stupid as it might sound, he couldn't help feeling that they had fraud radar and knew he didn't belong here. A cacophony of tunes on many different instruments fought for dominance at occasionally ear-splitting volume, but one caught his ear. //That sounds like Killing Joke's "Requiem." Now there's a song you don't ever hear in public. It's being played on a keyboard, I think. I might as well go see. I'm not getting anything done here.//
He wandered past musicians of all kinds as he walked through the keyboard department following the tune until... //My God, is that Mulder playing?//
Fox lost himself in the music, feeling the sound and vibration fill in the empty spaces. With his eyes closed his fingers moved unerringly through the right succession of keys on the keyboard, just a boy and his borrowed Korg. He didn't get to do this often enough.
Three weeks of oblivion and strange, dark feelings as Mulder kept Fox and the others submerged while he absorbed a serial killer's mind and hunted him down. When Fox demanded a weekend of freedom, Mulder surrendered. Fox thought that maybe Mulder needed a break from being at the wheel, time to rest and recuperate and expunge the remnants of serial killer from his psyche.
Fox had an excellent sense of his personal space, so he immediately knew when someone stopped in front of him and someone stopped beside him. The person beside him kept creeping closer, triggering Fox's he-deserves-a-knee response, so Fox opened his eyes and slid them over to him first.
A bit avant-garde, tall, lean, handsome, and totally arrogant musician, probably a guitarist. While there was nothing wrong with any of that, something about the man's body language, the way he leaned in on Fox, spoke of a predator. /Oh, give me strength. I don't need this shit today./
//Fox, be careful.//
/Chill, Mulder. I handle this sort of thing all the time and take better care of this body than you do. You deserve a break, so take it and leave me alone. This is my weekend. You promised. You promised.../
//All right, Fox.//
"I see you here once in a while. You're very good," the musician said. "How old are you?"
Everyone asked that. Mulder often got taken for as much as ten years or even younger than he was. Somehow, something about Fox made that body seem even younger. Fox couldn't say whether his attitude or different manner of movement made the change.
"14, 37, 5, 25. What does it matter?" Fox answered, still playing.
"Are you in a band?"
Stab of old but still sharp pain. //Fox...// /Stay out of this, Mulder!/ "No, I'm not."
"You should be."
/Yeah, I should be, but it'll never ever happen. Not when I'm like this./
"Do you want to be?"
/And the snake said to Eve, isn't that the most beautiful apple you've ever seen?/ "Not really. I have too many other things to do."
"You're lying." He moved in even closer, breathing on Fox's neck.
/He really needs a knee./ "I'm not interested. In anything you're offering. Leave me alone." Fox could tell Gabe, the store manager, about this creep and have the bastard ejected into the street, but Fox hated involving other people.
"Make me."
"Hey, he's not interested," a new voice said. "You should leave."
/I know that guy. Who is he?/
//That's Agent Pendrell! Fox, do you have any idea how--//
/I'll handle it! I have as much reason to want our secret to stay secret as you do! Damn, this day is going to hell./
"Is this your boyfriend, dear?"
"Never seen him before in my life. He just has a better idea of what's going on than you do." /Don't push me.../
The creep moved in even closer. Fox spun and thrust his knee up into the man's groin. When he crumpled forward, Fox drove his elbows into the would-be predator's back, forcing the knee in further. The man crumpled to the floor, gasping and making tiny, high-pitched noises of agony.
"In case you haven't figured it out yet, 'no' means 'no,' you stupid son of a bitch. You're not listening. That figures." One of Gabe's salesmen came by and stared. "Could you clean this trash off the floor? Someone might trip over him." Fox turned to Pendrell. "Hi. Thanks for trying to help." /He has the nicest blue eyes. Nicer than Scully's. Why didn't you tell me about this, Mulder?/
//What?//
"It looks like you didn't need it."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm sorry. You just look like someone I know. But you're not him."
/See, Mulder? A different attitude, posture, and accent do make a difference./
//We'll see how much it makes when he sees me again.//
Fox held out his hand. "I'm--" /Oh, damn, I can't say "Fox," not and keep up the charade./ "--Michael." Fox smiled. "Like the archangel. Not 'Mike'. Michael... Ganz."
//Ganz? Our music appreciation teacher? What are you doing, Fox? Say thank you and leave.//
Pendrell took Fox's hand and shook it. "I'm Daniel Pendrell, but you can call me 'Danny' if you like."
"I really do appreciate you stepping in. Let me buy you dinner."
"Oh, I can't--"
"Please. No one does anything nice for anyone else anymore. I want to encourage any random acts of niceness I see."
//What the hell are you doing? Please don't seduce him, Fox; I have to work with him occasionally.//
/Oh, shut up./
"I came here for a reason. I still have to get something, and I can't find it."
"Maybe I can help." When Pendrell showed him the notepaper he had the strings' name written on, Fox said, "Oh, sure, I know where those are. This'll be easy."
As Danny sat across the table from Michael he wondered how someone who looked so much like Mulder could be so different. Mulder surely never wore all black clothing like it made a political and style statement at once. The fading sunlight streaming through the window sometimes reflected off the silver ankh Michael wore around his neck. He glowed with life and seemed to be in constant motion; even at rest his long fingers traced patterns on the table. He was almost ludicrously sensual. The slight New England accent occasionally grated on Danny's nerves, but the invariably warm tone of the words made up for the nasal "a"s when they came.
Perhaps the biggest difference rested in the attitude. Danny knew that Mulder found his obvious crush on Dana Scully to be a constant source of amusement. The contempt the older man felt for him hurt. Michael seemed to enjoy his company and listened intently to every word he said.
Michael's bright green eyes took in everything with such pleasure and intensity that Danny got the impression that the other--younger?--man would probably be able to remember what color every object in the diner had been after they left.
Michael had coaxed him into talking about work. Danny avoided details of any actual cases but mentioned some of the procedures he did and materials he used. Michael followed it all incredibly well.
//What, he's attractive, so he has to be an airhead? Oh, God, I think he's attractive?//
Eventually Michael got him talking about Scully. "So what's stopping you from saying how you feel?" Michael asked.
"My tongue grows to five times its normal size, and I trip over it. I bet you're never at a loss for words in that situation."
"You're right, but there's a terrible reason why. When you talk about her, you glow, Danny. I've never felt that way about anyone. It's easier to talk when it doesn't matter what effect your words will create."
Michael looked so sad that Danny put his hand over Michael's, stilling it, and squeezed gently. //Why did I do that?// But then Michael smiled the same way he did when he said he'd been named after the archangel, and Danny stopped breathing. //That's why.//
The waitress arrived with Michael's hot fudge sundae, stopping Danny from saying the idiotic thing that almost left his lips. When she set it down in front of Michael, his eyes gleamed in anticipation, but he said, "I'll never be able to finish this alone. Want some?"
//This is seeming more like a first date by the moment.// "I shouldn't."
"Why not? When you're 95 years old, toothless, cranky, and wearing a diaper, you'll wish you enjoyed yourself more when you were younger. Besides, chocolate has mood-altering chemicals to make you feel better. It's a scientific fact."
"Who am I to argue with science? Give me a spoon."
As Michael handed him a spoon, he said, "The true appreciation of a hot fudge sundae is an art. You have to carefully modulate how much of the hot you get with the cold, how much creamy smooth vanilla ice cream you take with the biting kick of the fudge. The whipped topping is just a distraction."
Danny asked, "Who gets the cherry?" even as he cringed at how suggestive it sounded. The gleaming bright red fruit in question sat atop the sundae's peak.
Michael's vibrant dragon green eyes gleamed with mischief. "We save it for last and spoon duel for it."
To Danny's surprise, Michael stayed with his art and restrained himself from devouring the fudge first. It seemed out of character from Danny's conception of him. Michael also left plenty of fudge for his sundae companion, who found himself appreciating it more when he kept a careful balance of elements instead of just gobbling down whatever sat closest to his spoon.
Finally only the maraschino cherry remained, glowing bright neon from the bottom of the dish. It made Danny feel weak in the knees to watch Michael suck the last of his ice cream from his spoon, leaving it a gleaming silver. He twirled it twice to reposition it in his fingers then readied it at the edge of the dish.
"I'm ready when you are," Danny said.
Michael grinned. "Go!"
Their spoons hit each other and the dish with a loud clicking noise and pushed the cherry around. It reminded Danny of hockey, just on a much smaller scale, as they chased their quarry and blocked one another with the clashing of their silverware.
"I heard something about maraschino cherries once," Michael said, although his gaze never wavered and his spoon never slowed. "Third-hand, so I don't know how accurate it is, but it's something to think about. This one guy buried a maraschino cherry in his backyard and put a marker on it so he'd know where he put it. For an experiment he let it sit down there for two years then dug it up." His grin became more predatory. "When he opened up the grave the cherry looked exactly the same as it did when he buried it!"
Danny snorted but said, "You are not distracting me."
Finally Michael's spoon pinned his against the side of the dish, and nothing Danny did could get it free. He rattled it helplessly and put all the power of his arm behind it but remained trapped. Just when he stopped struggling, Michael's spoon flew backwards to scoop up the cherry.
"To the victor goes the spoils." He picked it up by the stem and let it dangle over his mouth. His pink tongue darted out to lick a last bit of fudge off it, making Danny squirm, then he devoured it in delicate yet savage bites like a cat.
//Completely unsocialized. Has to be. People just don't do that... Either that or it's an attempt at seduction. No, I don't think so.//
"Y'know, I always wanted to be able to tie a cherry stem into a bow with my tongue like that chick on Twin Peaks, but I still can't do it." He didn't sound sultry, just intrigued and a little disappointed.
//Thank God. I don't know if I could take it.//
As they walked to Danny's apartment, or Danny walked and Michael bounced, they sang Killing Joke's "Age of Greed" softly.
Danny sang, "Power over people--"
"Yes, yes!" Michael sang and pogoed.
"Power over people--"
"Be the privileged few," they sang together, "to have to own to hold..."
When Danny unlocked the door and turned on the light, he nervously awaited Michael's verdict. What would someone who had Michael's barely controlled chaos think of this overly neat room? //Why does it matter?//
Michael looked around and said, "It makes sense for a lab tech to be neat. With all the toxic and dangerous things you deal with, it's only smart to know where everything is. There's just enough clutter here to save it from being frightening. Hey, who's this?" Danny's giant orange tabby wound around his legs. Like a cat himself, Michael gracefully flowed to the floor to be face to face with the cat.
//I never thought about how bad this sounds...// "Mr. Whiskers," Danny said as quietly as possible, ready to die. "It was the family cat. I swear I had nothing to do with the name. I was about 12 at the time."
Greatly trusting, Michael let Mr. Whiskers sniff his face. "It's not so bad. I mean, he has whiskers, and he's a mister, right?"
Danny felt his head start to pound. "Actually, he's a she."
But Michael laughed with delight. "I love it. Always leave 'em guessing, eh, love? And it almost rhymes. Do you know that some scientists believe that cats only meow at human beings? Among themselves they use mostly body language and other sounds. Maybe 'meow' means 'hey, you!' in Cat."
Danny tried not to watch Michael sinuously sliding around on the carpet to play with the cat, tried not to notice the way those long fingers scratched and stroked Mr. Whiskers into a purring fit. "But that sounds so rude," Danny said faintly.
"That's where the body language comes in. The cat meows 'Hey, you!' then says with its body, 'Can't you see that I'm starving? Don't I give you all the affection you could ever want? Feed me and I'll be forever grateful,' or 'Watch the way I move, all sleek grace. Wouldn't I feel good under your fingertips? Please touch me.'''
"I--have to go to the kitchen. Right now. Do you want some coffee?"
"If you have tea, that would be nice."
"Right." //I'm not fleeing the room.//
Fox picked up the cat and sat down. /Hey, Mulder, come out and meet Mr. Whiskers./
When Mulder took over the petting, Mr. Whiskers briefly stopped purring then started again. //She knows the difference. You are trying to seduce him.//
/Am not! And why do you have to be such an asshole to him? He's sweet and kind and gentle. I like the way he blushes and the way his eyes turn slightly green and dilate to something darker when he looks at me./
//He's a--//
/What, a nerd? You do remember how you dressed while we were in high school, right? How about the fact that we were all arms, legs, and nose until our late teens?/
//Fox, are you going soft on him?//
/Shut up!/
//Fox, this is dangerous.//
/And your thing with Krycek wasn't?/
//I was stupid.//
Oh, mistake. /No, Mulder, you weren't. You like him, he's attractive, it's not unusual--/
//I let him lead me around by my--//
/You were happy for a while. Why spoil it?/
[Because it was a stupid thing for Mulder to do, just like what you're doing now is stupid,] William said. [You're even naming yourself now? Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think a new name will make you a different person?]
/Isn't that who we are in a nutshell? Stay out of this, William. Are we supposed to be bitter and cold like you?/
[You'd be a damned sight safer.]
/We'd be dead inside!/
//He's right, Fox.//
[Damned straight. You're happy now, but it's all based on lies. How do you think he'd look at you if he knew the truth?]
Danny stood in the kitchen and tried to regain his courage and common sense. //I'm not attracted to men. Why do I want to touch him so badly? I don't understand it all.// He couldn't even say that Michael had any feminine traits. Being so intensely sensuous didn't make him any less masculine.
Watching Michael made him more aware of his own body too, made him want to rediscover the world with all his senses. He wanted to touch-- The feeling unsettled him.
Danny fled those thoughts but headed straight into other unpleasant ones. Michael reminded him of his high school days when he hung with the freaks to save himself from being labeled a geek. Better to be misunderstood and maybe feared a little than despised. Danny never did anything extreme to his hair or pierced anything, but he listened to obscure bands and dressed in funereal black while still keeping his grades up and involving himself in the occasional resume-building extracurricular activity. Stealth honors student. He avoided the depressed and unstable freaks in favor of the happier ones like Michael and had some wild times.
In his last semester of senior year he cleaned up and chased the college of his choice at full throttle. His parents embraced him like the prodigal son, while his friends seemed to be mortally wounded. The things he'd played at had been their life's philosophy, and they couldn't help seeing his defection and refusal to commit as a betrayal of all they were.
For years Danny had felt some satisfaction in the thought that no one he worked with really knew him, that underneath the bland, nerd exterior lay something that would shock people. But now he realized that he had settled into full-on geekdom years ago without really being aware of it, a gradual sloughing off of all his rough spots and wildness until he had become what he appeared to be. It made Daniel sad to see that, but Michael, who had stayed true to the darker, harder path, showed him by example the perils of not buckling down to become another cog in the machine.
Michael had been reticent about discussing his home life and refused to reveal his address. He didn't sound at all eager to return home later. At first Danny had thought that he might be homeless or passing from friend to friend, but Michael looked too well cared for. That led to his next thought, that Michael might be a hustler, using sex to pay his way. It would explain so much. He couldn't see Michael living with two older brothers as he claimed.
But Danny didn't want to think that. It sounded so tawdry. Even with all his flirting, Michael seemed too innocent for sex for money. //It would explain why he's here with me though... No, I don't want to think about it.// In any case, he'd never heard of a hustler who bought his john dinner and then expected to be paid for sex.
//You can't hide out in the kitchen all night. Get out there.//
Danny put all the tea things on a tray and walked out to find a more subdued Michael holding and stroking Mr. Whiskers. Depressed, he resembled Mulder more. //What happened?//
"Michael, you don't have to stay."
Michael rose from whatever inner depths he'd plunged and said, "I want to."
Danny sat near him and put the tray on the nearby coffee table. "What would you be doing now if you weren't here?"
"I don't know. I couldn't stay in the apartment; I just leave my stuff there. I've read all the books, and I don't want to watch TV again. I would probably go out and find either a club or a place where I could play pool. One of my brothers taught me how to play when I was a kid."
"That sounds nice." Danny had such a homey picture in his mind. Two brothers in the den, bent over a pool table... //Not like that! I guess I have more of a perverted side than I realized.//
He refined the image until it fit a more family-oriented template. A younger Michael, pool cue in his hands, leaning over the table as an older Michael--since Danny had no idea what the brother looked like--stood behind him, guiding the shot, adjusting his grip, whispering pointers. //Better.//
"I didn't want to listen at first," Michael said as he stroked the cat. He sounded distant. "I was scared and distracted. Being locked in the basement did that to me."
//Oh, God, this really doesn't sound like what I thought it was.// But Danny said nothing to interrupt him.
"Dad hated all of us, and sometimes he would lock us in down there. My brother... Marty always kept watch over us, let us sleep through it, suffered through it alone to keep us safe. I couldn't handle the basement, because I don't seem to perceive time as something that passes. It's all just one eternal present for me. Sometimes we would be down there for hours, and I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore because I was impatient and worried for... for Marty.
"He knew I couldn't take it without something to keep my mind occupied so he found the family's old, worn-out pool table, one cracked pool cue, and six balls so he could teach me. He was so patient with me. It made things easier.
//Oh, Michael...//
"He can be such an asshole sometimes and so overprotective, but I do love him dearly." Then Michael looked up and caught the look on Danny's face. "Oh, shit, I shouldn't have told you that, should I? Why the hell did I say all that? I never talk this much." Michael stood up abruptly, and Mr. Whiskers jumped free with an aggrieved whine. "I have to go. I don't want to bring you down."
Danny grabbed him by the arm. "You don't have to go."
Michael looked away. "If I stay I'll say something stupid I'll regret."
"You can't say anything stupid to me." Danny pulled him in close and, greatly daring, hugged him, remembering that touch seemed to calm him. With their height difference, Michael seemed to fold around Danny like a warm blanket or a protective shield. Daniel pulled him back down on the couch. //We're cuddling, aren't we?// He stroked Michael's hair and felt him sigh with something that sounded like contentment. When Danny kissed the soft brown hair, he could swear it smelled like apples.
Michael looked at him with such warmth and need and trust that it felt like basking in sunlight. Daniel didn't understand it but wanted to accept it, grab it and never let go. No one had ever looked at him like that or made him feel like this before.
"Why are you here?" //That was coherent.//
But Michael seemed to understand and said, "Because I like you," against his neck.
"I'm so plain, so boring."
"I bet you have one hell of an interior life. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch."
Danny snorted. "Not really."
"Daniel, you have about five shades of color in your hair. Ginger, copper, auburn, honey, and wheat. You have the bluest eyes I've ever been this close to, though they turn a little green when you're looking at something you like, and that's nice too. I wish I had pale skin like yours. And I love watching you blush like that."
"This whole blushing thing is why you wouldn't want to have skin like mine."
Michael kissed his cheek. "Your skin gets warmer when you do that."
"Michael--"
"I want you so badly, Danny."
Michael's eyes looked like dark whirlpools of need, and it felt so good to be wanted like that. Danny stroked a high cheekbone, and the sound Michael made went straight to his groin. Daniel moaned at the feel of hot, nibbling kisses traveling down his neck.
It baffled him that this graceful, elegant, epicene creature wanted anything to do with him. He waited for the other man to pull back and say that he had been joking, to say what a fool Daniel had been for believing for a second that anyone could want him like this. He kept on waiting. In the meantime, Michael's hands fluttered along his ribcage, stroking through the cotton.
"Michael," Danny gasped.
"Anything you want, anything I can do, is yours. I want to make you happy."
"I am happy." //Now.//
"Then I want to make you happier."
Hands that played a keyboard and handled a spoon so deftly proved just as adept at scorching Danny's nerves. When they moved over his groin he almost jumped forward. As Michael slid down Danny's chest, he used his hot breath to taunt the nipples through the T-shirt. Daniel felt his mind dissolve.
Then Michael's head snapped back and away like something out of The Exorcist. His whole body stiffened, and he looked up with eyes gone black and a foreign expression on his face. "Are you sure you want this, boy?" he asked in a deeper voice as cold as liquid nitrogen.
"Oh shit!" //What the hell was that? Michael, are you okay?// Daniel leapt back and watched Michael shake his head violently.
"Damn you!" Michael muttered to himself as he twitched. "You said you'd abide by the promise. You promised, you son of a bitch! Down!" Then he looked at Daniel. "Oh shit. You saw that. You saw him. Oh, God."
Daniel felt torn between the desire to hold him close and back away as far away as possible. Michael took advantage of his hesitation to run for the door. The wrong door, it turned out. Not long after the bathroom door closed with a slam Danny heard a series of frightening thumps.
He raced over and ripped the door open to see Michael kneeling on the floor, striking his head against the wall. "Stop that now!" Danny grabbed him by the arms and sat him down in the corner, then crouched down next to him. "Talk to me!" //Oh, God, he's hyperventilating.//
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'm so sorry--"
"Michael, I won't hurt you. What was that?"
Green eyes shimmered with tears he refused to shed. "I might as well. William made sure that I wouldn't have a choice."
"William?"
"On the couch. He's one of us. I'm-- I'm a multiple, Danny. I don't live with my brothers as other people would see it. They're all inside our head. I'm not even... not even the primary personality. The primary is taking the weekend off. He's the one who taught me how to shoot pool. William, a different one, doesn't approve of me getting together with you, so he sabotaged it."
"Why?"
"Because... because I actually care about you."
Daniel needed a moment to digest. "So that's why you wouldn't tell me your address."
"Yes."
"Or phone number."
"Yes."
"And that's why you're not in a band even though you're such an incredible musician."
"Do you really think I am?"
"Yes. Is... William coming back?"
"No, I sent him so far down he's won't be able to claw his way up again for a while."
"Then it doesn't matter." Danny sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder.
Michael's eyes shone in an entirely different way. "It doesn't--"
"It doesn't matter."
Michael sighed and leaned his head against Daniel's shoulder. "That's-- Thank you, Danny. You don't know what this means to me."
//He wasn't going to tell me... Oh, get real, Danny. Like you would go around announcing it to everyone you met, especially people you were interested in. And watch them back away. Poor kid.
//So this could be Mulder. Wouldn't that be a kick... No, Michael's much too young.//
He could feel Michael's heart pound. As Michael's hair brushed his lips, Danny sternly told his groin to settle down. It wasn't like he'd never dealt with sexual frustration before. Then a thought struck him that he wished never came up. //Oh, God, that's too awful.//
"You can stay if you want. You don't have to do anything. I could just hold you if you want." //And my cock can learn a lesson in self-control. Not that I blame it for being upset since this is the most action it's gotten in a year.//
Michael looked a bit confused. "That's so good of you, Danny, but I do like sex. A lot."
//That would be consistent with one of the two routes my college psych class said sexual abuse victims take. I hope I'm wrong.// "If we did something right now would it be because you really wanted me or you just wanted to get over your scare? We can be affectionate without sex."
"Really? I do want you, but right now--"
"Right."
"You really like me?"
"Yes. And I have to tell you that I've never really been interested in men before."
"Never?"
"Bisexuality was big in my crowd, but I never got past the kissing and petting stage. Just curiosity. Though I think something happened one night when I was tripping. I can't be sure; I just remember being the ocean and having stars falling and dancing into me."
Michael laughed and whispered against his neck, "It's not usually like that. At least, not when I do it." Then he sighed. "I'm so tired..."
//I don't blame you. It looks like you had to put up some fight.// "You don't have to go home. You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that. Stay with me, Danny?" Michael turned such a look of entreaty at him that Danny grinned a little, with Michael following as he realized that he'd won.
"Okay." //Down, boy! This isn't a promise that something's going to happen. Nor should it be.//
They pulled one another off the bathroom floor, and Danny led him to the bedroom. //He's so much taller than me, but I feel like I'm the bigger one.// Then Daniel turned the light on and winced. //Oh, Danny, you really aren't ready for guests. Yes, that's me, the grown man with the stuffed animal on his bed.//
Michael smiled at the neatly-made bed and its shabby-looking resident. "Does this one have a name too?"
Mortified, hand over his eyes, Danny muttered, "Mr. Tuggles."
Michael took a flying leap and bounced to a halt on the bed before scooping Mr. Tuggles up and resting the old stuffed dog against his cheek. Once Danny peeked through his fingers, he could see that Michael looked both cute and disturbingly sexy with the once plush animal hugged against him.
"But you swear you didn't name the cat."
"No."
"Formal family, you had. No wonder no one at work knows your first name." He stroked its matted skin then placed it on a nearby table with its single eye to the wall. "Much as I love him, I just can't have him watching me sleep."
//No one at work knows my-- How does he know that? Wait a minute, he's not going to say anything sarcastic?// "Love him?"
"I'm sorry, but he's the only touch of character in this whole room. I don't have any childhood toys I got to keep." Michael suddenly smiled. "He's obviously been loved."
//Maybe I should use this as a test from now on. "Sure I want you, but will you pass the Mr. Tuggles test?" Like I'm beating them off with a stick. Oh, bad choice of phrasing...// Daniel felt the tight knot in his chest uncoil. "But he could hear you." //Oh, that's smart, give a mentally disturbed kid a whole new thing to get paranoid about.//
"He only has one ear."
"He only has one eye."
"Do you like having that button eye follow your every move?"
"But it doesn't-- You have a phobia about stuffed animals watching you but don't mind them listening? Oh, never mind. Whatever makes you happy."
"Thanks." Michael grinned. "And you do."
"Do what?"
"Make me happy."
//Oh, wow...// "Thanks," Danny said through the lump in his throat.
He toed off his sneakers but had to stop Michael from removing his Docs when his guest almost hit the floor headfirst in the effort. "You're too tired. Let me do that." Michael raised an eyebrow but surrendered his feet.
As Danny unwound the laces from around the top of the first boot and started to loosen them from the eyelets, he used the repetitive task to cool himself down a little. He removed the boots with the concentration and attitude he would use for a puzzle and made himself forget the legs encased in them. He peeled the Docs back and gently pulled them off one at a time.
As the second one came off, Michael shrieked. Danny asked, worried, "What was that?"
Michael looked sheepish. "I'm ticklish."
Danny grinned. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. //After what he's just been through you're going to torture him? But it would make him laugh...// He couldn't resist. He commenced tickling.
"You son of a bitch!" Michael gasped, giggling. He grabbed Danny by the shoulder and hauled him up onto the bed, then started to tickle back.
"Stop!"
"You started it!"
//Notes to self: [1] stop forgetting how strong he is and [2] don't start tickling when you're ticklish because it'll give them ideas...//
They rolled on the bed until Michael shrieked. "What?" Danny asked.
"My keys are in my back pocket, you nut! I'm going to have a bruise the size of a golf ball on my ass thanks to you." Michael took the keyring out and put it on the night table.
"Okay, I'm stopping. I'm a danger to myself and others."
"Thank you."
They lay back gasping, and Michael weakly shrugged his jacket off.
"You'll be okay?" Danny asked.
"Sure. I just need a little rest. I'm like a Weeble."
Danny got a sudden image of Michael being knocked around but refusing to fall. It made him feel sad and proud of Michael at the same time. He pulled the covers back and then up around them. "Sweet dreams, Michael." He turned out the light.
Michael burrowed into his side and fell asleep.
******************To Be Continued in********************
**********"To Have, to Own, to Hold II: Contact"************