Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 7/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

*****************************************

John was whistling happily as he approached his Jeep.  He had stayed in his
room, pretending to be asleep, until he knew his grandparents were gone.
Corrine always went to Mass on Sunday mornings, so she was also gone.  John
really hadn't wanted to see them all, especially if they got it into their
heads to ask him any questions about Dave.  As John opened the door he
remembered the horrible sound that had come from the driver's side when
Dave had been guiding the Jeep through an alley on the way to Sportz Shortz
the other night.  There hadn't really been any time to examine the door
between then and now, so John closed the door and knelt to see what damage
Dave had wrought upon his vehicle.

John ran his hand along the scratch.  It was long, but not deep.  Something
a body shop could handle in one day.  Or so John hoped.  He would call the
dealer Monday, when he was off from work.  John grinned as he wondered just
how much Dave knew about cars and the going prices for body work.  Could he
make Dave believe that the damage was going to be costly to repair?  As
John got into the Jeep he started to think of things he could say to Dave
that night to make him think that he had really done a number on the Jeep.

Halfway to work, John's stomach began to growl.  He had planned to grab
something in the cafeteria, but he saw a sign advertising a Sunday brunch
and found himself wanting more than the cafeteria had to offer.  He could
really get his money's worth at a brunch, he thought.  And so could Dave.
He wasn't all that far from Dave's place, so it really wouldn't be out of
his way to drive by and see if Dave wanted to get an early lunch or
something.

But, Dave hadn't gotten off from work until 7 and he'd be in bed.  That
thought went straight to John's groin and he grew hard as he remembered how
delicious Dave had looked in *his* bed.  He just knew that Dave would have
to look just as good in his own bed.  And these were the wrong kind of
thoughts to be having, John admonished himself.  They were friends.  Dave
had said so.  He had even said so.  And friends didn't go around with
hard-ons for each other.  So, maybe it was better to just go to County and
eat in the cafeteria.

But it would be a lot more fun to take Dave out to brunch.

Five minutes later, John was standing in the vestibule area of Dave's
apartment building, reading the mailboxes in an effort to discover Dave's
apartment number.  When he had taken Dave home the previous weekend, Dave
had gotten out of the Jeep at the curb and rushed inside.  John finally
spotted it.  Malucci, D., 312.  With that number firmly in his mind, John
went to the elevator.


Dave was roused by a ringing of his buzzer.  He fuzzily looked at the
clock.  Two hours sleep.  Two fucking hours sleep.  He'd have rolled over
and gone back to sleep then and there except the buzzer kept on buzzing.

Feeling hard done by Dave made his way to the door, and opened it,
"Whatisit?"

It was Carter.  Standing there and looking magnificent.  All the blood
rushed out of Dave's head and straight to his cock.  Mass had failed to
stop that happening.

John slowly smiled as his eyes ran down Dave's body.  While Dave had had
the decency to put on a robe before he answered the door, he hadn't tied it
closed, and the fact that Dave had been sleeping completely naked was
obvious.  As was the hard-on that he was sporting.  "Happy to see me?" John
asked as his eyes made their way back up Dave's body and stopped at his
face.

Dave gulped.  Carter, as always, seemed immaculate.  Beautiful.  Perfect.
And was making comments bout his hard-on.  Dave stepped backwards.   "Um."
He tried to collect himself -- Carter even seemed to smell different than
everyone else he knew.  "You're here?"

"Yeah, I'm here."  John stepped into the apartment and shut the door.   He
didn't think that Dave wanted his neighbors to see his pride and glory.
John knew he didn't want them seeing it.  "I was on my way to work and
planning on eating in the cafeteria when I saw a sign for a breakfast
brunch and I thought you might be hungry.  But you look like you're still
half-asleep.  Sorry if I woke you...up."  John couldn't keep his eyes from
where Dave's cock was poking though the opening of the robe.  He licked his
lips as he remembered how Dave tasted and his cock twitched as it
remembered the moaning sounds that Dave made when he came.

Dave's cock was twitching in responce to Carter's gaze.  Fuck.  Or rather
-- in this case -- Don't Fuck.  Dave gave half a moan from deep in his
throat.  He couldn't just send Carter away -- but anything in public was
better than staying here.  "Um. Sure. Gimme a minute."

When Dave moaned, John's cock sprang to full attention.  It certainly
wouldn't do any harm if he forgot about love and friendship and let Dave
fuck him right there in his living room, would it?  Just as John thought
that Dave might even ask, he heard Dave saying that he needed a minute and
then he was gone into another room.

Shit.

Okay.  Forget about sex, John told himself.  Forget about love.
Concentrate on friendship and don't even think about how wonderful it would
have been to have lapped up the pre-cum that had glistened at the tip of
Dave's cock.  No, don't think those kinds of thoughts, he told himself.
Not now.  Not ever again.  Friends didn't think thoughts like that.

Desperate to get his mind on something besides Dave and their erections,
John wandered Dave's living room, looking at everything closely and hoping
that his attention to detail would bore his throbbing cock.

Dave beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom and pulled on the first clothes he
could find.  Boxers -- oh yeah he needed the underwear, if it went on like
this he'd end up coming just from the way Carter looked at him.  And jeans
-- as tight as he could manage to help keep his cock under control.  And
socks and sneakers and a T-shirt.  Dave found a chestnut brown knitted
sweater -- not something he usually wore -- but there was nothing wrong
with that, and went back out to the living room.  Carter was checking out
his CD collection.  "Almost ready."

John turned around in time to see Dave pulling a sweater on over his head.
With Dave's arms up, the T-shirt was pulled taut across his chest.  From
where he was standing John could see the definition of Dave's muscles and
his nipples were trying their best to poke through the cotton of the
T-shirt.  As usual, Dave's jeans were tight, the denim caressing Dave's
balls and cock.  So much for the fact that he had succeeded in getting his
cock back under control, John thought as he felt the organ strain against
the front of his pants.  Dave looked too damn hot for his own good.

John turned back to the CD's.  "Nice collection.  I thought you were only
into Heavy Metal.  I'll admit that I'm surprised by what you've got here."

One advantage of this sweater was that it was long and a bit loose, and
combined with the tight jeans, no one would be able to tell what was going
on down there.

He grabbed his jacket, putting that on too, and balling his hands into
fists in the pockets to remind himself not to touch Carter.  He could look,
he couldn't touch.  And Carter could look -- Carter looked like some
fantasy -- clean and tall and smelling so wonderful and smiling, and deep
brown eyes.  "I'm ready."

John nodded, then turned around and his breath caught in his throat.  Now
that the sweater was on, John thought Dave looked magnificent.  The
combination of the black jacket and brown sweater made Dave look like a god
of some sort.  "Okay," John finally managed to say.  He didn't even try to
talk his body out of the erection that hadn't gone away from when he had
been admiring Dave's pecs.

John led the way to where he had parked the Jeep, then he carefully drove
to the restaurant where he had seen the sign for the brunch.  He hadn't
noticed before that the restaurant happened to be in a hotel.  As John got
out of the vehicle he hoped that Dave wouldn't notice that small detail.

Dave jumped out and looked about, he hadn't eaten at this place before.  He
walked around the Jeep to where Carter was doing final locking up type
things.  The scratch looked bigger in daylight -- much bigger.  Dave ran a
finger over it -- and felt where the metal had been rubbed.  Ow.  Still
Carter hadn't said anything about it -- not really.  It would be better to
keep it that way.  "This the place?"  What a dumb thing to say -- but it
was better than talking about his erection, the scratch or how hot Carter
looked -- which were the things occupying most of Dave's mind.

John had been watching Dave from the corner of his eye and he remembered
his plan to make Dave squirm over that scratch.  "Yeah, this is it.
Probably the last time I can spring for something like this, too.  Body
damage like that..." John let his voice trail off, then he sighed.  "Still,
it wasn't *really* your fault, even if you were driving.  I could have
stopped you from turning down that alley."  John turned to head into the
restaurant and tried his best to not grin.  He would give just about
anything to be able to see the look on Dave's face at that point, but he
knew that if he turned back around to look that he would start laughing and
that would ruin things.  He just had to get a bit more torment in before he
could let Dave know that the scratch wasn't serious.  "You coming?" John
called over his shoulder.

Dave fingered the scratch again.  Shit.  It didn't look that bad.  But this
was a pure-bred among cars -- the mongrel cars that he knew would have
survived with just a bit of spray paint adding to their colourful
exterior.  A bit of colour-in-a-can wouldn't do for Carter though.  The
Jeep was quite as sexy as the man himself.  Dave hurried to catch up.
"I'll pay."

"For brunch?  I don't even know how much it is, Dave.  Look, don't worry
about it."  John shrugged.  "It's nothing.  Really."   John opened the door
and hoped he had his facial expression under control as he stood back so
Dave could go in first.

That wasn't what Dave had meant.  But he shrugged and went in anyway -- he
could pay for the tickets tonight.  One good thing -- looking at that
scratch and thinking about paying for it had been very effective at getting
his hard-on under control.

The restaurant was nearly filled with numerous families having pancakes and
waffles and bacon and eggs.  It was warm and light and airy -- and in one
of the corners was a table surrounded by balloons where all the children
were wearing party hats.  And where two slightly harassed looking parents
stood.

Dave walked up to the desk, feeling a bit out of place.  "Table for two?"

John followed Dave and the hostess to a table by a window.  Since they were
having the buffet, there wasn't a need for menus.  The hostess had barely
left when a waiter approached them, a carafe of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning, I'm Adrian and I'll be at your service this morning.  Would
either one of you care for coffee?"  Adrian smiled down at Dave.

"I would,"  John said as he reached out and turned his coffee cup upright.
"Dave?  Do you want any coffee?"

Coffee would mean Dave didn't get any more sleep for a while.  But that was
okay -- he could nap late afternoon ready for tonight.  Or maybe not.  The
first playoff games were today.  He turned his coffee cup upright anyway.
"Sure."  He grinned at Carter.  "You watch the Giants beat Philly's ass
today."

John grinned.  "The game will be on in the lounge, so I should be able to
see bits and pieces of it.  Normally I wouldn't bother with watching, but
since I know they're *your* team, I feel as if I should watch...at least
long enough to see if I'm going to be fifty dollars richer tonight."

Adrian cleared his throat.  "If you're getting the buffet you can go up at
any time."  He smiled broadly at Dave.  "I'm a big Giants fan, myself.   I
just *know* they're going to win today."

Dave grinned at the waiter.  "You and me both, my friend."  He tried
peering at the nearest table.  "What's hot?"

"Just about everything you see,"  Adrian replied, but his eyes were still
on Dave.

John sat up straighter in his chair, not liking the fact that the waiter
was about to start coming on to Dave.  That wasn't right.  Not right at
all.  The waiter wasn't even Dave's type.  He was too...skinny.  And he had
a cutesy name. Who called their kids Adrian, anyway?  "Come on, Dave," John
said as he stood.  "Let's check it out for ourselves."  John had to fight
the urge to put his arm around Dave and let Adrian and everyone else know
that Dave was off limits.

Not that John had any right to him.  But he was Dave's friend, and as his
friend it was his duty to protect Dave from being hit on in public.

Dave stood up, and followed Carter to the buffet.  There were numerous
delicious smells emanating from the bain maries.  After looking for a
second Dave commenced making himself a savoury pancake stack -- alternating
the pancakes with scrambled eggs, or tomatoes or bacon.

John felt his mouth fall open as he watched Dave stack the pancakes and the
other food.  "You're going to eat it like that?" he asked.

Dave smirked.  "Why not?"

"Oh, that's so gross," John said, making a face.  "I don't know if I can
sit at the same table with you while you're eating *that*."  John moved on
down the line, looking for something different.  He finally settled on a
large bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins, toast and a large glass
of milk.  John took his food to the table, wondering how it was that he had
beaten Dave back.  Then he spotted Dave at another buffet line.  And Adrian
was nowhere near him. Good.  With a smile, John laid the napkin out over
his lap and proceeded to butter his toast while the brown sugar slowly
melted into the hot oatmeal.

Dave headed back to the table with two dark chocolate and cream-cheese
muffins as a side dish.  Now that the prospect of food was immediately in
front of him, Dave was hungry.  Hungry, hungry, hungry.  The smells from
the bacon and eggs and tomatoes intermingled with that of the pancakes and
sent delicious advance notices down into his stomach, which grumbled in
response.

Dave slid into the seat opposite Carter, and picked up his knife and fork.
Then his foot bumped against Carter's.  Shod foot against shod foot.  And
suddenly all the smells and sounds receded, and Dave was focussed on the
foot touching his.

John paused mid-buttering to stare at Dave's food.  All of that mixed
together *and* muffins.  How could he have ever found himself in love with
a man who ate things like that?

"Can I get you two anything?"  Adrian asked from the side of the table, but
his eyes were still on Dave.

"No, *we're* fine, thank you."  John tersely replied.

"Well, if you change your minds, just call me and I'll come," Adrian said
to Dave.  Then he walked off to another table.

"Just call me and I'll come," John mimicked.  "Slut that I am."

"What?"  Dave abruptly lowered his voice, he wasn't entirely sure who was
being called a slut, but he didn't like it one bit -- and removed his foot
from near Carter's.  "Don't say stuff like that here."

Dave looked round, checking that noone had overheard what Carter had said,
then started to cut through his pancakes.

"He *is* a slut.  Look at him, sashaying around the dining room, trying to
show off what a great ass he *thinks* he has."  John glared across the room
at Adrian's retreating back.  "And all those come-on lines.  Thinks he's
something hot."  John put his knife down and took a forceful bite of his
toast.

Dave looked at Adrian then back at Carter and lowered his voice still
further.  "You've got guys...guys doin' *that* on your mind.  He's just a
waiter, they're all like that."  Dave glared at Carter and brought his
first forkful of breakfast to his mouth.  "Eat your breakfast.  This is a
*nice* restaurant.  Things like that don't happen places like this."

John rolled his eyes.  He had forgotten what an innocent Dave was about
things like guys picking up other guys.  He hadn't believed him the other
night about the man at the bar and he didn't see now that Adrain was coming
on to him.  One day Dave would have to open his eyes and see what was going
on all around him.  It didn't really bother John too much that Dave didn't
think men picked up other men in ''normal' places, but rather it was the
inference that any place else was abnormal, and more so, that the people
who went to those places were somehow abnormal.  The more he thought about
that aspect of what Dave said, the angrier John felt.

"Right, Dave.  Things like that only happen in sleazy places where the
dregs of society howl.  Guess that means I'm one of the dregs, right?"
John didn't mean to sound upset over what Dave had said, but he knew he did
and he immediately felt bad about it.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have
snapped at you.  You're right.  This is a nice place and we should enjoy
our breakfast."  John smiled across the table at Dave, hoping that his
quick apology would take some of the sting out of the fact that he had
snapped at Dave.

"I'm not a dreg.  I'm a doctor."

John pressed his lips tightly together as he fought down the urge to point
out to Dave that *he* hadn't been the one implying anything, but that Dave
had been the one doing all the implying.  John even counted to ten and then
was able to say, without any harsh tones to his voice, "Did you notice they
have an omelet station?  You tell them what you want and they make it up
for you."

"Don't need one still got pancakes."  Dave took a bite, then muttered,
"Mike stealing stuff doesn't make me bad.  It doesn't."

Lord, John thought, doesn't the man *ever* give up on a thought?  "I never
said you were bad.  You were the one saying that *I* was bad.  At least,
that's the way it sounded to me."  John was determined that this would be
his last attempt to make things right.  If Dave continued to be stubborn
then John would just...well, he wasn't sure what he would do, but he would
do something.  "I'm sorry if it sounded as if I were saying that about
you."

Dave shrugged mutely, and continued shoveling pancake and filling into his
mouth as fast as he could chew.  He wasn't bad.  He'd worked long and hard
not to be bad.  When he had to pause for breath he looked around -- "So
which kid's having the birthday you think?"

John wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or not about the shrug he
received in reply.  But at least Dave was letting it go, so he could do the
same.  John looked over at the table.  "Easy.  It's the kid in the dark
green shirt with the multi-colored party hat on his head."  John took a
tentative taste of his oatmeal and found it was now cool enough to eat, so
he lifted a spoonful to his mouth.  "Which one do you think it is?"

Dave shrugged.  "Prob'ly him. Looks happy."  His stomach was filling and
Dave wasn't sure what to talk about when his mouth was empty, so he ate
slower.

John looked over at the children, thinking they all looked happy.  "I guess
he's a little happier than the others, but they all look happy today."
John took another bite of his oatmeal and decided to find another topic of
conversation. "So, it's evaluation time.  What do you think Weaver's going
to say about you?"

Dave grinned.  "That I'm the hottest guy in the department?"

John grinned back.  "You don't think that Kovac rates that title?"

"What?  How can anyone who never looks happy be hot?"

In reality Dave knew that the title of hottest guy in the department (if he
didn't claim it himself) went to the man sitting opposite him -- but that
wasn't something to think about right now.

John shrugged.  "Women tend to like the brooding kind of guys.  All the
women are crazy for Kovac, haven't you noticed that?  It's the mystique of
the brooding looks and their desire to be the one woman who can make him
happy.  It's like when a guy gets hurt and everyone wants to make things
better."

Dave spoke through his mouthful of pancake, "They swarmed over you after
the stabbing huh?"

John's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth as he thought back.  Then he
nodded.  "I guess I did have more women coming by to see me.  Some of them
wanted to help me, but I wouldn't let them.  Too embarrassing."

Dave wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so took refuge in chewing the
pancake he'd been speaking through a moment before.

John swallowed the last of his oatmeal and took a long drink of milk.  "So,
did you decide what movie we're going to go see tonight?"

"Uh."  Dave had thought about it a lot, but he hadn't come to any firm
decision.  "Same one's on tonight as yesterday?"  What a silly question.
"Revenge of the Killer Tomatoes?"

John smirked and shook his head.  "No way.  Pick something else."   He
reached for his toast and took a bite of it, then saw he had butter on his
fingers and, after swallowing what was in his mouth, he quickly licked his
fingers clean, then wiped them on his napkin.  "What about "Traffic"?   If
the movie's boring, then the scenery in it is pretty good."

"Hey, thought you said *I* got to choose?"  Dave shrugged.   "Traffic" was
as good as anything else.  "Sure."

"It was just a suggestion.  We can go see something else.  I don't have to
sit there and drool over Catherine Zeta-Jones or Benicio Del Toro."  John
replied with a grin.  "If you'd rather see something else, we can."   John
set his empty bowl and saucer aside and got to his feet.  "I'll be right
back."  He headed for the buffet line to see what else there was to eat.

Dave's eye's followed Carter's progress across the room, then he
industriously applied himself to the remaining pancakes.  He wasn't too
pleased that Carter had talked out loud about admiring the leads --
especially in a place that was full of normal people and kids, but it was
easier not to think about.  He picked up the final portion of his pancake
stack on his fork and prepared to savour it.

"Would you care for a coffee refill?  Or something different...to drink?"
Adrian asked as he came to a stop by Dave's table.

Dave pushed his cup toward the waiter.  "Sure.  Thanks."  He looked at the
man, then looked down immediately -- remembering what Carter had said.  He
was pissed off that Carter's comments would have him even thinking a thing
like that about a waiter doing his normal waiter duties.

"This might sound a bit forward, but I noticed when you were on the buffet
line that you had excellent definition in your thigh muscles.  I was
wondering what gym you use?"  Adrian asked as he poured the coffee.

Dave grinned, *that* was a perfectly normal guy comment -- nothing strange
about it at all.  Carter was just dreaming. "Sal's -- not too trendy, but
it's got guts where it counts."

Adrian grinned.  "I might try going there then.  I've been working out at
home with some free weights, but they just aren't doing anything for me.
Sal's."  Adrian repeated.  "I'll remember that name.  You said earlier that
you were a Giants fan, and your accent sounds like you're from New York.
Been in Chicago long?"

"'bout a year and a half, but I was in Grenada and the south for a while
before that."  Dave took the coffee, and tasted it -- hot and black and
strong, he smiled at the waiter.  "Thanks.  This is good."

John had a plate full of eggs, bacon and fruit and was on his way back to
the table when he saw that 'Adrian' had returned.  His mouth set in a stern
line, John hurried through the restaurant, sliding into his seat.  "More
coffee?  Yes, please."  John looked up and smiled at Adrian, but the smile
didn't reach his eyes and it wasn't a friendly smile.  He wanted Adrian far
away from Dave -- before he said or did something like broke through Dave's
bubble of innocence.

Adrian filled John's cup, then went to check on another table.

"So, did you decide on a movie yet?" John asked as he scooped up a forkful
of eggs.

Dave shrugged, "Traffic'll do."  He watched Adrian walk across the room.
"You were wrong my friend.  He just wanted to know what gym I use -- liked
my muscles."  Dave flexed a pec.  "*Nothing* strange 'bout that." Now if
the waiter had been admiring *Carter's* muscles that would be strange --
but he hadn't been, so it was okay.

John chewed thoughtfully, then nodded as he looked across the table at
Dave. After swallowing, he said,  "Nope.  Nothing wrong at all about
admiring *your* muscles, Dave.  I like them quite a bit.  Especially one in
particular."  John mentally kicked himself for saying something so
blatant.  Hadn't he been wanting to preserve Dave's naivete?  Hadn't be
been telling himself that he could settle for being Dave's friend?  Hadn't
he told himself that sex was out of the question?  He most certainly had,
and then some.  So then why was he coming on to Dave?

Dave nodded.  "Yeah, my pecs *are* solid."  He looked across the table at
Carter.  "You could be okay too, with a bit of work."

John's eyebrows raised. "I'm comfortable with the way I look, Dave.  I spar
with a punching bag and have a set of weights that I lift.  It's enough for
me.  They taught me some yoga stuff in Atlanta to stretch my muscles and
make me limber and I do those from time to time." John suddenly grinned as
an image of himself and Dave in a gym, just the two of them, naked and
working out, flashed through his mind.  It was a good image, even if it was
one that could never happen.

Dave shrugged, and reached over to grab one of his muffins.  It took all
sorts to make a world, and guys like Carter made guys like Dave himself
look good.

Dave glanced up and caught Carter grinning, he suddenly felt a deep
stirring in his groin, twitched twice, and went hard.  Okay so when Carter
smiled he wasn't bad looking -- no muscles or not no muscles -- but that
was beside the point.  Dave couldn't remember what the point was now
though.  "Uh, yeah," he grasped onto a word, "yoga?"

John was so lost in his daydream that at first he didn't hear Dave
speaking.  Then he blinked back to reality.  "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Dave's cock was straining hard against the front of his jeans.  "You did
yoga in Atlanta?"

"Oh."  John nodded as he stabbed another piece of scrambled egg with his
fork.  "Yeah.  You'd surprised what kind of positions I can get into once
I'm warmed up."  He shoved the eggs into his mouth, then hastily chewed and
swallowed.  "Problem is that I have to keep doing the yoga or my back will
hurt like a bitch."

With Carter's face down toward his plate the moment was broken and Dave
breathed out slowly -- but a wonderful image of Carter doing amazing things
to Dave's body in one of those weird yoga positions implanted itself in
Dave's mind.  He took a big bite of his muffin, knowing that he shouldn't
be thinking like this -- but thinking was still a hell of a lot better than
doing.

"What do you do to keep limber?"  John asked.  He really didn't like doing
the yoga, and while he wasn't keen on the idea of bulking up his muscles,
he could try whatever method it was that Dave used to stay supple.

Dave shrugged.  That was an easy question to answer -- or not.  "I don't.
Stretching's for wusses."

"Haven't you heard that not stretching before working out can damage your
muscles?  You don't want to pull your groin muscle or anything, do you?
You wouldn't be able to walk for days if you did that."  Now, if *I* pulled
your groin muscle, then we wouldn't even be thinking about walking, John
thought.

Dave shrugged.  "Never happened yet."

"It might still happen...someday," John said with a sigh as his mind
settled on the vision of his hand wrapped around Dave's hard cock.  "It
might."

Dave frowned -- that tone of voice did not seem at ALL appropriate to
discussing a groin injury -- even one that hadn't happened yet and probably
never would.  He took a drink of his coffee.  "So 'Traffic' then?"

"Yeah, sure.  Sounds good."  John chased away Dave's image as he looked
across the table at the real thing.  And reminded himself that the real
thing was off-limits.  He didn't want another sexual relationship without
some kind of emotional attachment.  He'd settled for that with Adam.  But
Dave was so damn tempting...and John found himself having second thoughts
about the limits he was setting.  Could it really hurt anything to have sex
with Dave?  Was he being stubborn and obstinate by insisting to himself
that he wouldn't be with Dave again unless Dave said he loved him?  John
leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs.  They brushed against
Dave's.  "Sorry.  Thought I had more room under the table."

Dave's cock pressed hard against his jeans as soon as Carter touched him.
He found that it was getting increasingly difficult to make any kind of
sense about what was going on.  "It's kinda cramped down there."  He pushed
the rest of his muffin into his mouth.

"My legs were getting a little cramped as well."  John said.  Then he
glanced down at his watch and did a double take.  "Shit.  It's after
eleven.  We need to go or else I'm going to be late.  Did you get enough to
eat?"  John asked as he tried to get Adrian's attention so they could get
the bill.

Dave looked at the remnants on his plate.  "Sure."  He didn't like the idea
of walking though the restaurant with a raging hard-on for a guy -- but at
least the sweater would cover it.  And maybe it would go away outside where
it was colder.  "Sure," he repeated.

"Good."  John smiled.  Adrian returned to the table and John asked for the
check.  "I wouldn't want you to leave here hungry."

"Uh, no I'm fine."  Dave stood up, ready to leave.

Adrian took a step backward to give Dave room to get out of his chair, but
once John was heading for the cashier, Adrian stepped forward again.
"Thank for coming.  You should come here more often.  We have an excellent
dinner buffet with a delectable desert selection."

Dave shook his head, and took a step back from Adrian.  This morning was
getting very strange, after what Carter had said he was getting nervous of
Adrian, and it annoyed him -- the guy was just doing his job, nothing
more.  "Sure.  Maybe."

Adrian grinned.  "That would be great.  And I'll definitely check out Sal's
gym.  Maybe I'll see you there and we can spot each other on the weights?"

At the cashier's stand, John turned to look for Dave.  "You coming or not?"
he called out, not happy at seeing Dave and Adrian standing close to one
another.

Dave took another half step backwards, and nearly tripped over a chair.
"Maybe."  He was thankful for Carter calling out to him.  "Gotta go." And
swiftly made his way to the desk near the exit.


To be continued....