Title: Casual Day

Author: Scribe

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Rafe/Simon

Rating: R for language and some thoughts

Summary: Rafe wants help painting his house (inside), but the only one he can talk into it is Simon. Turns out that neither one of them is upset about that.

Archive: WWOMB and lists

Status: Finished

Sequel/Series: This is for the WWOMB Character of the Week--Brian Rafe, and an answer to my own Building a Better Relationship/Renovate Our Love Challenge. Two characters do some sort of building/home improvement/yard work together and either discover attraction, or strengthen it.

Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners, and the actors and actresses who portray them.

Notes: I heartily apologize for the sort of pun at the end of the first section. The plot bunny made me do it. He had horns.

Casual Day
By Scribe

Blair held his mug under the spigot on the coffee maker and pulled down the dispenser handle, letting steaming water run over his tea bag. When the mug was full he dunked the bag a few times to speed up the steeping, and casually glanced at the bulletin board over the coffee area. His eyes fastened on a sheet that had been tacked up for the last week. He knew it by heart, but read it again.

PAINT PARTY. I HAVE TO HAVE MY ROOMS PAINTED BY 9/1/03. NEED VOLUNTEERS TO HELP. CONTACT BRIAN RAFE. 555-1958

It was now August 28th, Friday, and that meant that Rafe's deadline was Monday. Blair glanced over at the dark haired detective, who was sitting slumped at the table. "Yo, Rafe, why do you have to have your place painted by a specific date?"

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "It's complicated. I lease, right? Well, I was bitching at
the landlord to paint the place, and he agreed but he didn't want to be bothered with making the
arrangements, so I said I'd do it. I got estimates on having it painted, and he gave me the money to pay for it. I paid the painter half in advance, and made arrangements for him to do it. You remember that trip I had to make to Seattle to testify?" Blair nodded. "He was supposed to do it while I was gone. I had a neighbor keeping an eye out to make sure my furnishings didn't walk off, but they didn't bother to check on what sort of job the guy was doing."

"Bad?"

Rafe winced. "He must've gone to some sort of Dollar Store sale for the paint, and it looked like the painting was done by a group of spastic, color blind chimps. When I got back I almost had a stroke. So I called him up, and guess what? Service disconnected. He's in the wind."

"Ouch. But I don't see why you should have to have it repainted on a deadline."

"That's because my landlord came by to inspect it, and freaked. Started talking about never mind not getting my security deposit back, he was going to kick me out and sue me for damages if I didn't get it fixed, pronto. I had to spend the rest of what he'd given me for the job on cleaning the carpets. The bastard hadn't put down a tarp. So I have to get the job done FAST, and I don't have any spare cash right now to have it done professionally. I can paint, but I haven't had a hell of a lot of spare time lately. If I could get just one or two people to help, I could get it done in one day."

Blair sat beside him. "Shit, man, I wish I could help, but my Mom is picking me up after work today. If it was just some sort of seminar or retreat, I'd blow it off and help, but we're going to visit Grandma, and she really gave us a scare this spring with that myocardial infarction." He snorted. "The doctor called it a 'little' myocardial infarction. Mom almost ripped him a new one for daring to call her mother's heart attack 'little'. Anyway, Grandma is doing good, but I don't wanna miss any chance to see her, you know?"

"I know. Thanks for the thought, Blair." He looked up hopefully. "Do you think Jim...?"

"PLEASE don't ask him, Rafe. I'm not trying to make things hard on you, man, but if you ask, Jim will do it, and he REALLY doesn't need to be around those paint fumes. You know the kind of trouble he was having before I started helping him, and they might flare up again if he exposes himself to anything intense while I'm not here."

"Yeah, yeah--I understand. I remember how miserable he was, and I wouldn't wish that on him." He blew out a breath. "I guess I'll just have to figure on spending all day Saturday and Sunday doing it myself. If I stay up all night at least one of the nights, I ought to be able to do it. I just hope that it meets the landlord's standards." He pushed away from the table. "I'm going to try one more thing."

He went to the bulletin board. Pulling a pen from his jacket pocket, he clicked it, then printed at the bottom of the notice FREE BEER.

Blair chuckled. "That ought to get Megan, at least."

"It would, but her boyfriend is taking her to the beach for a dirty weekend." Blair gave a startled
laugh. "Don't look at me--that's what SHE called it."

Simon entered the break room. "Why is this always the busiest room in the building?" He went to the coffee station and reached for a cup. His eyes flicked over the board, and he paused. Pointing at the notice, he said, "Something new has been added. Rafe, you trying to bribe my men with offers of alcohol?"

"I'm desperate, sir."

"What kind of beer?"

"Uh... I don't know. I was going to ask whoever volunteered what their pleasure was."

"My pleasure is Dos Equis Lager. An entire interior is at least an all day job. Are you providing food, too?"

"If anyone actually shows up, sure. Are you...?"

"Sandwiches are fine for lunch, but I want Chinese for dinner. I can't make it Saturday, since Daryl has a ball game. Sunday okay?"

"Uh... sure."

Simon was filling his cup. "Need any equipment--pans, drop sheets, brushes, rollers?"

"No, I have..."

"Good. See you Sunday." He walked out, sipping his coffee.

Brian gaped after him. He looked at Blair. "What the fuck just happened?"

Blair chuckled. "Simon just gave us a demonstration of why he's in charge." He slapped Brian on the back. "Better be ready Sunday, Brian. I have a feeling that Simon is going to work your butt harder on your day off than he ever has at work."

*****

*raprap*

Rafe rose about one-quarter of the way toward consciousness. He'd scraped the crusted paint from the botched paint job off the windows the evening before, then masked them all carefully. Before he was done he was cursing the many windows that had been one of the house's major selling points. He'd intended to try to get to bed early, but it was after ten before he'd finally finished. Then he'd only been going to catch a re-run of the news, but there's been that old
Humphrey Bogart movie on right after it...

He'd fallen asleep on the couch sometime around two, and gunfire from the cheesy seventies cop movie that followed the classic woke him up. He'd dragged himself, half asleep, into the bedroom, jerked off the majority of his clothes, and fallen into bed, fully asleep almost before he hit the sheets. He wasn't going to give up his sleep easily. He rolled on his side, shoving his face into the pillow. If the house wasn't on fire, he wasn't interested.

*raprapraprapraprap*

Rafe was now half-awake, and not happy about it. He muttered incoherent, but dire things under his breath, and pulled his second pillow over his head.

*BAMBAMBAM!*

Rafe, with vague, alarmed thoughts of the battering ram he'd seen the SWAT team use, was rudely jerked to almost full consciousness, and found himself stumbling through his house. Before he'd realized what he was doing, he was unlatching his front door. The blast of sunshine he received when he opened it didn't do the vampiric 'dissolve' thing, but it DID almost blind him, and he had to shade his eyes to look at the hulking figure silhouetted before him. "Whuh?"

Simon blinked at the young man who had answered the door. Brian Rafe was sometimes teased around the squad room about being a fashion plate. They over did it, of course. The boy had invested in a couple of very good suits, and he wore them well. Simon had seen Rafe in more casual clothing, of course--jeans and sweats at precinct picnics, or slacks and button-down shirts. But Brian had always, ALWAYS looked meticulously put together. Now...

Rafe was dressed in only a pair of boxers and a strapped t-shirt. The usually carefully coiffed hair
was wild, sticking up in spikes and tufts as if he'd scrubbed his head in the pillows. His expression was an odd combination of startled and sleepy, and he looked very young, like a college freshman who'd just been informed that he was a half-hour late for his first morning class. Simon said questioningly, "Rafe?"

The detective blinked, then yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "I dunno. I'll have to have caffeine before I can be sure. What time is it?"

"Quarter after six. Sorry I'm late, but I DID stop to pick up breakfast." He held up a cardboard box.

"Uh. Okay, sure." He stepped back, waving an invitation. "C'mon in." Simon entered, and Rafe shut the door. He shuffled toward the kitchen. "I think I can make coffee. I've done it often enough that the autopilot should kick in any time now." He banged his bare foot against the doorframe. "Shit!" He tried to hop and massage his sore toes at the same time.

Simon caught his shoulder as he began to topple, dropping the box. "Hold up, graceful." He steered Rafe over to the table and pushed him into a chair. "Are you always this coordinated first thing in the morning?"

"Not if I get more than four hours of sleep. Are the donuts safe?"

Simon picked up the box and set it on the table. "The box held, and donuts don't often shatter. If they did, eat the crumbs. I'll fix the coffee--you go ahead and eat one of those. Maybe the sugar will give you a boost till I can get some coffee into you."

While Simon fixed the coffee maker, Brian opened the box and selected a donut, beginning to munch on it. "A full dozen. Good call, Simon."

"Well, I figured two cops--better safe than sorry." As the coffee began to drip, Simon turned back to the table. He'd been going to say something, but the thought escaped him as he took in the sight of Brian licking chocolate glaze off his fingers. *Son of a bitch. I've seen that man eat donuts at least a hundred times, and he never did THAT before. I guess since he's in his own home, and he's still too sleepy to feel formal...* Rafe had moved on to trying to lick a dark smear off his bottom lip. *Oh, he DAMN sure never did that move at the precinct.*

Simon turned back to the coffee pot, unhooked a mug from the row hanging under the cabinet, and pulled out the carafe, sticking the mug under the stream. Rafe watched this maneuver, arching an eyebrow. "Damn, Simon, if you're THAT anxious, there are spoons in that drawer. Dig into the grounds."

Simon managed to slip the carafe back under the flow without losing a drop. "Don't think I haven't thought about that at times in my life."

"Hand me some when it's finishes, huh? Just plain." He was working on his second donut (powdered sugar) when Simon brought the coffee to the table and joined him. "I honestly don't see how you can be alert enough to drive at this time of the morning."

"I have a kid, remember? I've been trained." He helped himself to a donut, trying to ignore the
dusting of powdered sugar that was sifting onto Rafe's bottom lip. "I wasn't thinking about it being too early. I just figured you'd want to get a good start on this, in case we ran into any problems."

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry to be inhospitable." He took a hefty swig of coffee. "I'm just semi-human unless I either sleep till at least eight or have some form of caffeine." He regarded his sugar caked fingers. "Man, you can never lie about eating a powdered sugar donut, can you?" He started to suck one of his fingers, then noticed Simon watching, and stopped, blushing. "Sorry." He stood up. "I think I can navigate well enough now to wash my hands."

He walked over to the sink and rinsed his hands, and now Simon was aware of the way the thin cotton pulled tight against his ass as he stretched for a paper towel. *What the hell is going on? I've worked with this man for a couple of years, and the only time I've thought about him and sex at the same time was to speculate on how fantastic his love life must be, with all the babes he must have chasing after him.*

Rafe tossed the used paper towel and yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. As he did, he looked down at himself and blinked. "Shit! I'm hosting my boss at breakfast in my skivvies!"

Simon couldn't help smiling. "You just realized that?"

"The coffee just kicked in. I'll be back in a minute." He hurried out of the room.

"Good thing," Simon murmured. *Maybe once he gets back into his regular clothes those damn disturbing thoughts will sneak back into whatever corner of my mind they crawled out of.* Simon wasn't so much startled by the fact that he'd noticed another man sexually as it was by WHO he'd noticed. He knew he had a bi-leaning--there'd been a few liaisons before he'd met and married Daryl's mother--and a few more after the divorce, but there'd never been ANYTHING involving someone from work. That was a big ass can of worms that he had no desire to open.

In his bedroom, Rafe was staring at the work clothes he'd chosen the night before, wondering if he dared wear something at least a LITTLE nicer. If he'd been having a gang over to help, there wouldn't have been any question that he'd wear the shaggiest thing in his wardrobe. But this was SIMON, and he'd had a crush on the man since the day they'd first shaken hands.

At first he'd figured it was just one of those 'safe' things. After all, Simon was married, and his boss. Then there'd been the divorce, and Rafe had realized that maybe it was a little more than a crush, because it had driven him almost crazy to see how badly Simon was hurting. There had been times that he'd wanted to ask Simon out for dinner, or just drinks, just to be a good friend, but Jim Ellison had stepped up and did that. Rafe had felt a little jealous, but he'd realized that it WAS just supportive friendship, and he was finally grateful. If he HAD spent time alone with Simon, there was a damn good chance that he would have slipped and somehow revealed his attraction.

Rafe shook his head and stripped, quickly donning his first choice of clothes. He couldn't risk even the faintest amount of primping in this situation.

Simon was on his second cup of coffee when Rafe returned to the kitchen, and he almost groaned as the younger man strolled into the room. Rafe was wearing a pair of ragged, much faded jeans cut-offs, and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off--punk style. The jeans had been washed to the point that it was impossible to tell what color they had been originally, the material worn almost as soft as chamois. The t-shirt was so old and thin it might have been cheesecloth, and it clung tight enough to show the shift of muscle as Rafe reached once again reached for his coffee. Rafe crossed his legs, ankle on knee, and Simon almost choked on a mouthful of donut when he noticed that Rafe was wearing ratty old Pumas--and no socks. His legs were strong, and lightly dusted with dark hair, but his naked ankles looked almost delicate. *Shit. I know everyone goes on about how good the man looks in a suit, but this...*

"I did the prep work last night," Rafe explained. "Luckily that jerk HAD removed the baseboards, so I don't have drips all over them. He also left 'em off the walls when he boogied, so they're piled in the garage. It won't take much to just knock them back into place." He was looking around, "And thank God he didn't do anything in here. The counters would have ended up looking like they'd been done by Jackson Pollock."

"So we don't have to do this room?"

"Nope." Rafe ticked off on his fingers. "Living room, hall, both bedrooms, and the bathroom. The
closets are okay, which is a good thing, because I would have had to hunt him down and kill him if he'd gotten paint on my threads--and he WOULD have."

"So, which room do you want me to start in?"

"Oh, we'll have to work together. I only have one tarp, and we'll have to move it around from place to place. I figured I could start on the walls while you do the ceiling."

Simon frowned, thinking about cramped neck and shoulder muscles. "Why me?"

"Because you're taller than I am," said Rafe logically. "If Jim was here, he'd be swapping off
with you."

"Fair enough."

When they were finished, Rafe rinsed the cups out in the sink, setting them on a rack to drain. "I figured we'd start in the front of the house and work our way back. That way if we fall behind, at least the areas that will be on display the most will be taken care of, and I think the landlord might cut me some slack on the back rooms."

"You won't have to worry about that," said Simon firmly. "I made some extra cash in college painting, and if I can't get one unit done in one day, especially having a helper, then I'll... I'll... I'll
drink one of those kelp shake monstrosities Ellison says that Sandburg is always trying to push off on him."

Rafe laughed. "Blair's a little schizophrenic about his diet. He does the kelp shake and ostrich chili
thing, he bitches at Jim about his Wonderburger addiction, but he can pound down pastries with the best of us. C'mon and help me get the drop cloth spread, and we can get started."

Old sheets were spread over the furniture and the tarp was positioned, then Rafe opened the first can of paint. Simon cocked his head at it. "White. Feeling adventurous, Rafe?"

"Feeling desperate. I only have a two more months to go on this lease, and I'm not sure if I'll renew or find somewhere else. If I stay, THEN I can redecorate, but now..." He waved a hand at the wall. "Look at that shit. I've been living with it for close to three months now." It was a rather sickly shade of green, somewhere between lime sherbet and an after dinner mint, with none of the charm of either. "I just want PEACE. The paint clerk assured me that this brand of white would cover ANYTHING in one coat, including black or scarlet. Apparently he's sold a lot to parents who made the mistake of letting their Goth kids decorate their own rooms."

They got to work. Simon operated the long roller, laying down an even coating of paint on the ceiling. Actually, the ceiling was supposed to have been painted white at the same time the rest of the work was done, but the edging was so ragged and smeared that it set his teeth on edge just to look at it. When he finished the living room ceiling, he began to help Rafe on the walls, and they progressed quickly. By lunchtime they had the living room and hallway done.

Rafe laid out a big selection of cold cuts and cheeses, three different types of bread, and an
astonishing array of condiments. Simon examined the spread as he took a slice of whole wheat bread. "Three different types of mustard? Four different pickles, two flavored mayonnaises, and..." He peered at a jar, "Some stuff I can't readily identify."

Brian, rummaging in the refrigerator, shrugged. "What can I say? I like to experiment. I'm the only one who has to eat my own cooking, so there's no problem. And that's jalapeno jelly. It's great with cream cheese on a bagel, or as a substitute for horseradish sauce. Try it with the roast beef. You need any rabbit food--lettuce, tomato, onions?"

"No, this will be fine."

Rafe pulled two Dos Equis Lagers out of the refrigerator and put them on the table. "Good thing.
I don't keep produce--I just buy it as needed."

"Wouldn't want onion anyway," said Simon, without thinking.

Rafe cocked an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile. "Got a date later?" Simon gave him the 'look of death', but it bounced right off. "I have a spare toothbrush, still in its package."

"You keep a fresh toothbrush on hand?"

Rafe shrugged. "Never can tell when *ahem* someone might not feel like driving all the way home. Better to be prepared." He grimaced wryly. "But that one's been sitting there for so long that there's probably dust on the box. So, you can have your onion and still stay kissing sweet... *JESUS! Did THAT just come out of my mouth?* "but I have to warn you that I think I just have a half-onion left, and it may have dried to the flake stage by now."

"Pass."

Simon decided to be brave and take the jalapeno jelly suggestion, and it was surprisingly good. He munched, watching in admiration as Rafe built a sandwich that would have done Dagwood Bumstead proud. Of course, he then had to watch Rafe eat it, and he did that finger licking thing again. Simon had to have a second beer, just to give himself something to do with his hands,
because they kept wanting to wander over toward Rafe. He finally excused himself to go to the restroom. The two beers were the official cause, but the real reason was that he was starting to get too damn interested in the way Rafe's lips looked when he tilted his beer bottle to them.

He peed as soon as he got into the bathroom, then took a moment to sit on the toilet. He looked at his half-hard cock with a mixture of irritation and odd satisfaction. *Damn it, I've been working with the man for two years. What the hell are you doing getting all interested in Brian Rafe NOW? All right, so he seems to have a fantastic ass, but...* His cock thickened a little more, telling him that yes indeed, Brian Rafe DID have a fantastic ass, and it was just out there, so what the fuck was Simon doing in HERE?

*Uh-uh, no way.* Simon took one of the nice guest towels hanging on the wall, soaked it in cold water, and applied it where it would do the most good. While he waited for the erection to die down, he noticed a few magazines tucked in a holder beside the toilet, and plucked one out. *International Male Spring Catalogue. Figures.* He started flipping through it. There were a few pages turned down, and Simon wondered if he'd see Rafe wearing some of the pictured clothes in the Bull Pen. Then he hit the underwear section, where there were several dog-eared pages, and
sighed. *No such luck.* Then he noticed a dark patch on the paper on one of the pages that displayed obscenely tiny bathing suits. Simon could feel his eyebrows climbing. *That isn't hand lotion. I know those stains. I put some of them on girlie magazines myself when I was younger. Fuck.* He flipped a few more pages. *Rafe, you're hotter than any of these pouty prettyboys.* The very idea forced him to re-wet the towel. He finally got himself into a fit state for company, and returned to the kitchen, but he almost had to go back when he pictured Brian sitting in the bathroom, stroking his cock while he looked at the handsome, sultry male models.

Because of the fumes, Rafe had the windows open for ventilation, not trusting the central air system to do the job. They started on the hall after lunch. The breezes from the open windows swept out the fumes, but weren't enough to keep the hallway from being hot.

It was narrow, too, and the two men occasionally brushed against each other as they worked. They were not quite done when Rafe made a sound of irritation, laid his brush down in the pan, and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. Simon paused, saying warily, "What are you up to?"

"It's too damn hot, Simon," Rafe complained. "And since there aren't any little blue-haired old ladies around to shock, I'm not going to roast when I don't have to." He peeled the t-shirt up. Simon watched as a flat belly, then a well defined, almost smooth chest was revealed. And when the shirt came over his head, the hair was messed up again. Simon almost groaned.

Rafe had been using the shirt to wipe sweat from his face and throat, and he looked up at the small sound Simon had made. He gestured. "Take yours off, too. I won't mind."

"I'm okay."

"Simon, not to be offensive, but you have rings under your pits that run almost down to your waist. That shirt has gone from gray to almost black over about fifty per cent of its surface. Get comfortable, man. We'll be done in here pretty soon, then I can do the bathroom while you tackle one of the bedrooms. There are windows in both, so it'll be cooler, and you can put the thing back on if you want."

While Simon seemed to think about this, Rafe was thinking, *Please, please, please. Just a little
skin, and I'll have jerk off material for weeks to come.* Simon finally laid down the roller and pulled off his t-shirt. Rafe stifled a sigh as the sculpted torso was revealed. Simon looked like a classic statue, molded in bronze. He had to hold back a smile, thinking, *All he needs is a gladiator helmet and a sword. Shit, there's the first fantasy already.*

They finished the hallway, and Brian went in to do the bathroom, while Simon took the master bedroom. Rafe was just finishing up when he noticed that his 'library' had been disturbed--the International Male catalogue was settled crooked. He groaned. "Oh, shit!" *Maybe he didn't realize that it's my stroke mag.* He remembered the stains he'd left on some of the pages. *If he didn't get to that page with the red thong.*

He heard Simon call from the bedroom. "Rafe, do you have any Kleenex? I need to clean my glasses."

"There are some Handi-Wipes and tissues in the drawer of my bedstand," he called.

He continued painting. After a moment he heard, "What the HELL?"

Rafe suddenly remembered what ELSE he had in that drawer. He rushed into the bedroom, and found that he was too late. Simon was standing there with his glasses in one hand and Rafe's eight inch vibrator in the other. Rafe slumped against the door frame, thinking that there was never a sink hole around when you needed to fall off the face of the earth.

Simon didn't look over, but he said thoughtfully, "You know, Rafe, I haven't seen any evidence of a live-in girlfriend."

*Shit. The cat's out of the bag. I might as well be honest.* "I don't have a steady girlfriend. That...
uh... that's mine."

Simon grunted. He twisted the base, and the little machine began to throb, humming softly. "I understand these are advertised as massagers, for relaxing stiff and sore muscles." He gave Rafe a questioning look.

Rafe could feel himself blushing, but he didn't think that bullshitting would do much good now. "That's as big a load of malarky as you probably suspect. I use it for pretty much the same reason that the women do."

Simon didn't comment. He just turned off the vibrator and slipped it back into the drawer, then pulled out a Handi-Wipe and some tissues. "Are you done in the bathroom? If we both get after these two bedrooms, I think we can be done by five."

"Almost. I just have a small section to finish." Grateful that Simon didn't seem either amused or
disgusted, Rafe hurried back to the bathroom.

When Rafe was out of the room, Simon had to sit down for a minute. He shoved his clenched fists down hard into his lap, grateful he'd worn roomy pants, willing away the boner that had sprung up along with that sudden mental image of Rafe lying naked on this bed, knees cocked, his prick lying rigid against his belly as he slowly moved the vibrator in and out, in and out...

He'd managed to get it under control by the time Rafe returned, and they made short work of the rest of the painting. They were finished by a quarter to five, and by six they had the baseboards nailed down again. They took a quick final inspection tour through the rooms, ending up in the living room, and Rafe sighed in satisfaction. "I might have been able to do it by myself, but I'd have been working straight through till work tomorrow, and I wouldn't have been worth anything for a week. Thanks, Simon."

"No problem. We're done?"

"Yeah, except for dinner--I still owe you some Chinese."

"You don't have to do that, Rafe. You don't have to pay me for helping out."

Rafe gave him a look. "I WANT to, Simon--unless you have other plans?"

"No, not at all."

"Then unless you don't want to go out to dinner with me, I'd like to. I don't like eating alone in public, and I'm frankly too damn tired to fix anything, even more sandwiches."

Simon smiled. "Then I'd be happy to have dinner."

"Good deal. Now, I don't suppose you brought a change of clothes with you?" Simon shook his head. "Well, I can shower while you go home and change, and we can meet..."

"I have a better idea. Rafe, you can't sleep here tonight--it wouldn't be healthy with the paint fumes. Why don't you come back to my place? We can get clean there, go out to eat, and you can sleep over. Bring two sets of clothes, and we can go straight in to work Monday." Rafe was thinking. Simon added, "It makes sense, Brian. This way will get you the most rest."

Rafe nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. I'll go get my things." He patted Simon on the shoulder. "You're a good friend."

Rafe walked back to his bedroom. Simon's gaze followed him, mesmerized by the subtle shift of his flanks. *Maybe more than a friend after tonight--if I'm damned lucky.*

The End