Joanie woke on Tuesday morning to lulling warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. For a few blissful moments, she didn’t bother opening her eyes to the morning, only placed her hand on the chest beneath her and slid her fingertips down. A muscled, comfortably padded stomach twitched beneath her touch.

A quiet, sulky grumble from above her as Hunter woke made her smile gently. Burying her face in the tangle of hair on the pillow, breathing in his scent, she murmured, “Morning.”

 “Hi.” His arms tightened around her slightly, his lips brushing across her temple as he ran his hand down her spine. She gave a tolerant sigh; Hunter knew better than to get protective with her, but he still slipped and did it anyway whenever he thought he could get away with it. She didn’t plan on letting him know that she didn’t quite mind it from him. Even if he was damned cute when he gloated.

A gentle hand ran through her hair, making her finally raise her head to blink into sleepily amused hazel eyes. She started to lean down to kiss him. Then realization struck, and she froze, eyes widening. “Where’s Sean?”

With a sigh, Hunter moved his hand back as he felt her go tense. He let her sit up before explaining, “He’s downstairs already. Woke up about an hour ago and left as soon as I let him up.”

She cursed, then asked, “Was he okay?”

“Pretty good. Hell, he was even bouncing again, and decided that he wanted to mess around in the snow later.” Rolling his eyes, Hunter commented affectionately, “Gee, can’t tell he lives in Minnesota…”

“It’s just an act, you know. He’s still hurting from last night.”

Hunter sighed, letting his forehead hit the headboard. “Jo, I’ve known the kid for years. I know he’s still hurting, but damned if he’ll show it. If we push him too hard, he’ll be out of here and headed back home within the hour.”

“Damn it.” Slumping down again, she let him pull her close, her back against his chest. “He did it again last night, Hunter,” she murmured into his throat.

With a soft, cynical sound, Hunter replied, “Jo, he’s called me Shawn during sex so many times that he doesn’t even bother apologizing any more. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m worried about him,” Joanie admitted, laying her arms over Hunter’s where he was holding her around the stomach. “This thing with Shawn is killing him. It’s gone way too long without any payoff for the kid, ever since they broke up. He deserves better. Christ, they both do.”

Hunter idly stroked her side. “They have this week, baby. They’ll work something out if we have to shove them into a room and lock them in there until they do.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Pulling away from him, she turned to glare at him. “What do we do then? Just pretend nothing happened? I don’t care what you say, Hunter, that didn’t work for what happened between you and Shawn, and it won’t work now. Unless you want the kid resenting Shawn and trying to become him, too.”

Hunter flinched. Reaching for her, he began, “Jo-“

“Don’t. Not right now.” Sliding off the bed, she went to the closet and grabbed the first clothes that she touched. She pulled them on and went to the door. “I’m going downstairs to see if they’ve killed each other.”

“Baby, just listen for a second-“

She was gone.

Hunter looked after her, feeling distinctly helpless as he fell back against the pillows. Burying his head in his hands, he stared at the sheets, then closed his eyes and said emphatically, “Fuck.”
---
The first sight that greeted her as she entered the kitchen was an extremely nice ass.

Joanie paused mid-step, then leaned against the doorframe and smirked, watching Scott rummage through the fridge. It was probably a good thing that none of the Kliq expected complete monogamy because, engagement or no, she had this urge to reach over and see if she could fit her hands in Scott’s back pockets. Considering the way they clung like a second skin, so tight she could tell that he wasn’t bothering to wear anything underneath them, she doubted it.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and reminded herself of the man still in their bed upstairs, all tanned strength, wild, sweet smell and crooked smirk. A fond smile tilted up her lips. Scott’s nice ass or no, Hunter was still cuter.

Scott straightened suddenly, and turned to smirk at her. “Morning, chica.” Kicking the door closed, he tossed her a grapefruit and leaned against the fridge. “Sean’s outside with Kev already, in case you were wondering.”

Before she could comment, the door to the hallway opened and Shawn wandered in, shirtless and with a towel slung around his neck. There was a bounce to his walk as he went to the coffee machine, no trace of the wounded and tired man that had looked at her last night. For a moment, remembering the defeated expression on Sean’s face when he returned from the balcony and the way he had curled into her as if for protection as soon as they reached the bedroom, she hated Shawn with a violent intensity.

“Hey, Scott,” Shawn began, peering down into a box as he turned, “I think we’re out of Equal-“

The words froze in his throat as he glanced up and saw Joanie standing in the doorway, glaring at him. Without thinking about it, he took a step away, backing into the counter.

Glancing back and forth between them, Scott muttered, “Okayyyy.” Standing up, he went to the door that Shawn had entered through. “I’m just gonna… go get some Cheerios or something. Be right back.”

The fact that he crossed himself before shutting the door behind him was less than reassuring.

As soon as the door closed, Shawn turned away from her. Placing both hands on the counter, he leaned against them and gripped until his knuckles were white. He didn’t look at her as he said softly, “I’ve pissed you off again, haven’t I?”

Reading the defeat in his voice and the tension in those lean shoulders, Joanie felt the anger in her fade. With a sigh, she replied, “I was pissed off last night, yeah.”

He laughed cynically. “And you’re not now? Joanie, you look like you want to rip my leg off and use it to beat me to death.”

Going to him, she put her hands on his shoulders. If it was possible, he tensed even further under her hands. “I’m not angry with you, Shawn,” she said quietly. “I wish I could be, but I’m not. It’s not all your fault that things are so messed up between you and the kid. Or between you and Hunter, for that matter.”

“No, but I sure as hell helped.”

“We shouldn’t have sent you out after the kid on the first night here, not by yourself.”

His head dropped, hair shielding his expression as he said, “You said that like you’re expecting me to smack him around the second we’re alone together.”

“Shawn. You hit him once, years ago, and you didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, but once was enough to fuck everything up, wasn’t it? You weren’t here. You didn’t see…” Shaking his head, he crossed his arms across his chest, gripping his arms tightly to leave bruises. “One time was too many, Jo. It’s never happened again, but I still just keep finding other ways to hurt him.”

Rubbing his shoulders lightly, she sighed, feeling any harsh comment she might have made dying at the pain in Shawn’s voice. “Stop it, Shawn. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why do you put up with me?” he asked softly, not raising his head.

“Because you’ll drag yourself through hell to try and make up for it.” With a rueful smile, she lightly kissed the back of his neck, then let him go. “You usually do.”

Looking up, Shawn studied her. “You’re not mad at me?” he said finally, wary.

“No, unfortunately, I’m not mad at you.” She hugged him tightly when he smiled faintly, relieved. “You’re like family, I can’t stay pissed off. Even if you act like a royal asshole, you can be decent if you feel like it.” Kissing his cheek, she murmured, “It’s okay. All right?”

Shawn smiled at her, almost brightly. “Thank you, Jo.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With another sigh, she reached out and stole the coffee he had poured for himself. Taking a long drink, she set the mug down at his elbow and smiled suddenly. “Now, I’m gonna go outside and harass Nash into shape. If you hear any screaming…”

“That’s probably it,” Shawn said for her, with a smirk. “Don’t kill him. Scott would be pissed.”

“I’ll consider it.” Turning on her way out the door, she added seriously, “Listen, Shawn, just talk to the kid, okay? It won’t kill you. And I will if you don’t figure this out.”

As soon as she disappeared from the doorway, Shawn looked down into what was left of his coffee and smirked humorlessly. “Easier said than done, Jo.”

The door beside him opened, and Scott poked his head in. “Is she gone?”

“It’s all clear.” When Scott sighed in obvious relief, Shawn chuckled. “Aw, don’t you want to join Kev in getting into shape?”

“I love him, but I don’t have that big of a death wish.” Scott stepped into the door, empty handed.

“So much for the Cheerios.”

Scott shrugged, easily stealing the mug from Shawn’s hand and finishing it off. “Hey, I needed some kind of excuse to get out of ground zero and still listen in, chico.”

“Oh, of course.” Snatching the mug back with mock-indignance, Shawn refilled it as he watched Scott go to the fridge again. “So I suppose you’ve got something to say too.”

“Yeah.” Scott leaned in, grabbing something off the lower shelf, and glanced up. His eyes were cold as he said shortly, “You hurt Sean on accident and I’m willing to forgive it. But if you ever hurt the kid on purpose, I’ll fucking gut you. Get me?”

Shawn nodded numbly, eyes wide.

“Okay. Good.” Straightening, Scott threw a grapefruit at him, smirking slightly as Shawn fumbled trying to catch it. He playfully swatted Shawn’s cheek and commented easily, “Now eat something, chico. You look half-dead.”

And Shawn, shaken, complied.
---
This hadn’t exactly been what he had intended to be doing on his vacation.

Kevin leaned against the brick wall of the cabin, bracing his arms on his knees as he struggled to get in a few deep breaths. His lungs were screaming, his pulse racing so fast that the world was dimming. It was so cold out that the sweat seemed to be freezing on his skin, and the air cutting like a blade as it went down his throat.

He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes as he struggled to steady his breathing. His lips quirked up into a crooked smirk as he muttered, “You might be good for Hunter, but you’re gonna kill me.”

The woman leaning against the wall beside him snorted less than sympathetically. “You’re out of shape.”

He slanted her a dark look from behind his hair. “You know, if I didn’t think you could kick my ass…”

“If you didn’t know that I could kick your ass,” Joanie corrected calmly. Despite her words, she laid one hand on the curve of Kevin’s back, frowning slightly when she felt him shaking. “Go ahead and catch your breath.”

“Thanks.” Raking a hand through his hair, he straightened and let out a frustrated breath that misted the air for a moment. “I’d like to know when I got this fucking pitiful.”

She shrugged. “You’re forty. You’ve been out on injury.” When he still looked less than convinced, she added, “You’ve been working at WCW for the last two years.”

“Eh. There’s that.” Kevin smirked suddenly, the expression taking the weight of years and hurt off his face. “Although, considering how long I spent carrying it, you’d think that might count for something.”

Patting his stomach, Joanie drawled, “That won’t help this.”

“Hey,” Kevin protested mildly. “I’ll have you know that it’s gotten better in the last few months.”

“Since you and Scott both got divorced and started fucking like rabbits.”

He grinned at her, unrepentant, and any shadows in his eyes faded. “Damned skippy.”

With a chuckle, she moved her hand back. “Okay. You’ve caught your breath. Let’s go.”

“Hey!” Stretching already-aching muscles, Kevin complained, “A little respect for the old man, here.”

“Please. I’m in the room right next to you and Scott’s. I heard the bedsprings going at about seven this morning. Several times over.” Joanie tilted her head, smirking. “So, just to make sure Scott can walk some time this week, I get to help you burn off a little energy.”

“Christ. You’ve been spending way too much time with the runt. He’s corrupted you.” Without much hope, Kevin glanced at his watch and asked, “How much longer are we gonna be out here?”

Jerking her head towards the small, dark figure they could see nearby, moving easily across the snow, Joanie replied, “Until Sean’s worn out.”

Kevin groaned, letting his head hit the wall. “I’m a dead man.”

“Quit whining.” With a last smile and tug on his jacket, Joanie rose and began striding forward again, obviously expecting him to follow. “C’mon.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Kevin considered mutiny. Then he remembered, with a wince, that he would be trapped in a cabin with that Amazon for the next week. Pissing her off did not fall under the ‘good idea’ category. “One of these days,” he muttered, “Maybe I’ll figure out how Hunter’s survived this long.”

Then he pushed himself off the wall and followed her anyway.
---
Light shone off the snow, almost painfully bright, as the sun reached its peak in the sky. The woods around the cabin rustled periodically as animals moved like ghosts through the trees, too wary to step into the open, to the outside only whispers of fur and dark, liquid eyes that were gone again as soon as they had been seen. Outside was quiet, cold and still.

Inside was another matter entirely.

The kitchen smelled like it belonged in a sitcom from the fifties, sweet and warm and dark from what was baking in the oven. It was domestic. Or it would have been, if the occupants of the kitchen weren’t focusing more on licking the batter off of each other than in getting it into the oven. There were reasons why the Kliq generally weren’t allowed near sweet food that dripped appealingly down skin. The small room was mostly silent, save for the occasional soft moan or happy purr, until the man stretched across the kitchen table spoke up suddenly.

 “Jo and I fought again this morning.”

Scott glanced up from stirring the latest batch, the soft words distracting him from Shawn’s attempts to lick the taste from his fingers. Hunter was staring resolutely at the ceiling, a strange expression on his face. With a sigh, Scott dipped his fingers into the batter and smeared some across Hunter’s lips. Leaning down to kiss him, he murmured, “Couples fight, chico. It happens.”

Hunter sighed as Scott’s tongue flicked over his lower lip, kissing the older man back. “I know,” he murmured against his lips. “It’s just…”

A chair scraped across the floor as Shawn pulled himself up. With one graceful move, he was up on the table, straddling Hunter’s legs. “Just?” he echoed expectantly, tilting his head.

Hunter glared at him without venom. “Just that if you don’t get down from there, the table’s gonna break.”

Considering that, Shawn said finally, “That isn’t what you were going to say.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the bowl of batter and stole some, growling a little when Scott rolled his eyes and flicked Shawn’s ear.

Hunter sat up, shaking his head with a false smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Scott argued calmly. Running his cleaner hand through Hunter’s hair, leaving a trail of flour among the amber strands, he commanded, “Talk.”

Looking down at the table, Hunter shook his head. His voice was low, hesitant when he finally spoke. “I don’t know. I’m… Jo and I are getting married in two weeks.”

Shawn blinked. “Uh… huh. And this just occurred to you now?” When Scott reached over and smacked him upside the head, he yelped indignantly. “Ow! What?!”

“Christ, and we thought the kid was the tactless one…” Scott muttered, shaking his head. Looking back at Hunter, he went on for him, “And you’re starting to get nervous.”

“No, I’m starting to get terrified. There’s a difference.” Swallowing, Hunter toyed with the ripped fringe of his jeans cuff. “We shouldn’t be fighting this close to the wedding. We’re supposed to be… hell, I don’t know. We should be in premarital bliss. And instead she’s pissed off at me.”

Scott laughed. “Chico, Dana and I were fighting over breakfast the morning of the wedding.”

Hunter’s head dropped forward. “Oh, thanks,” he snarled, “that makes me feel a lot better.”

Draping an arm around Hunter’s shoulders, Shawn shook him lightly. “Hunt, you’re both just nervous. Everything’s been taken care of already, and you two have way too much energy to burn, so you’re on edge. She takes care of it by snapping at you and exhausting herself. You take care of it by worrying too much and wearing a path in the carpet around the house by pacing too much.”

“Have sex,” Scott advised with a smirk. “You’ll feel better.”

Shooting him a dark look, Hunter drawled, “Fuck you, Dr. Ruth.”

Scott blinked. “Well, I meant with Joanie, but I sure as hell wouldn’t complain.”

Apparently deciding to ignore that, Hunter looked back at Shawn. “And as for you… I’m not pacing.”

“Yes, you are, baby.” Shawn playfully smeared batter across Hunter’s lower lip with a swipe of his thumb. Leaning in, he cleaned it off with a few quick kitten licks, tugging lightly at it with his teeth. A smirk touched his lips as Hunter’s breath caught. Running a hand down Hunter’s chest, toying with the bottom of his shirt, he murmured, “What’s there to be worried about, Hunter?”

Hunter stiffened under his hand, pulling away. Alarmed, Shawn raised his head, exchanging a look with Scott over the younger man’s head. Scott shrugged, equally lost, then reached out and laid a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Chico?”

“I love her.” The words, soft and honest, sounded almost defeated. Hunter toyed with the engagement ring, refusing to look up. “I need her.”

Leaning his head down to try to catch Hunter’s eyes, Shawn asked gently, “Since when has that been a bad thing?”

Hunter laughed humorlessly, a cynical and wounded sound. “Oh, I don’t know. Since I stopped being sure that she loved me back.”

Silence, stunned and trembling, filled the kitchen for a long moment. Then Shawn demanded, loudly and incredulously, “You WHAT?!”

Hunter looked up, anger darkening his expression. “I don’t know if she loves me anymore,” he snapped. “I don’t know if it was all a fluke, or for the sex, or out of pity, or lack of other options. I just don’t fucking know, okay?”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Shawn shook him hard. “What are you, blind?”

“You’re one to talk, Michaels!” Hunter retorted, jerking away. “You can’t see what’s right in front of your face-”

The rest of his words were cut off in a yelp of pain as Scott elbowed Hunter in the ribs, hard enough to double the younger man over. “Watch what you’re saying,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

Watching them with wide eyes, Shawn asked slowly, “What did I miss?”

“Never mind,” Scott interrupted him, too quickly for comfort. Looking back at Hunter, who was still doubled over and nursing what would probably turn into a nasty bruise, Scott touched his arm lightly. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Hunter gasped. “I deserved that.”
 
Reaching up to brush hair out of Hunter’s eyes, Scott added, “She does love you.”

Hunter let out a tired, amused sigh, not raising his head. “How come I’m the only one around here who isn’t sure of that?”

Shaking off his confusion, Shawn considered the beaten look on the younger man’s face with a twinge of concern. Hunter needed to burn off some energy, before doubt pulled him apart inside.

His lips quirked up suddenly, before he leaned in to gently kiss Hunter’s throat. Hunter sighed, leaning his head to the side for more of the same. Slipping his arms around him, Shawn eased him down to the table, straddling his hips again as he lightly licked a path down the younger man’s throat. Hunter shivered, doubts momentarily dissolving at the warmth and the strength of Shawn’s thighs locked around his waist. His eyes flickered closed, only to bolt back open as a warm mouth pressed against his.

Rubbing his cheek against him like a cat as Shawn lightly licked at Hunter’s nipples through a thin layer of black cotton, Scott’s low voice was like a purr in his ear as he murmured, “You should talk to her.”

Hunter laughed, incredulous. “I can’t believe you’re playing ‘Dear Abby’ while he’s trying to suck me off-“

“Trying to?” Shawn echoed, raising his head from kissing a path down Hunter’s stomach. His fingers fumbled with the zipper, caressing his length with a light touch that made Hunter’s hips jerk. Nipping his stomach in rebuke, Shawn said mock-resentfully, “I’m doing more than trying to, baby.”

Scott smirked, pulling Hunter’s shirt high enough to get access to his nipples. Nuzzling one, he watched the other harden under his light touches. “Would you rather I help him?”

Squirming as Scott closed his lips around one hard nub, sucking lightly, Hunter managed to protest weakly, “Maybe we should stop-“

He cut off, nearly biting his lower lip in half, as Shawn raised himself and Hunter’s hips up just far enough to slide the younger man’s jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs. Spanning Hunter’s hips, idly rubbing the hipbones with his thumbs until Hunter purred, Shawn laughed. “I don’t know, Hunter. I think part of you knows what it wants, and it sure as hell isn’t to stop.”

“But…” Hunter’s words came in short, staccato gasps whenever he could break away from Scott’s kisses, “the kitchen table?!”

For a moment, Shawn didn’t respond, idly licking his way up Hunter’s thighs. When Hunter whimpered, Shawn paused, considering the question. “True.” Sliding back, he pulled Hunter with him to the edge of the table. He knelt, looping Hunter’s legs over his shoulders, and smirked up at the younger man. “There. Better.”

Hunter moaned as Shawn brushed a whisper light kiss to one of his balls, then the other. Rubbing his cheek against Hunter’s thigh, he murmured, his breath warm against the underside of Hunter’s shaft, “Scott’s right. You really ought to talk to her.”

“Oh, God,” Hunter groaned, head falling back. “Not you, too.”

Scott slid behind him on the table, propping Hunter up between his legs and against his chest. Nipping Hunter’s earlobe, he curled both arms around him to keep him from sliding off the table and breathed, “Like you would listen any other way.”

Hunter’s hips jerked hard as Shawn began to idly lick at his shaft, dragging his tongue along the underside only to pull away when he reached the ridge. There was no pattern to the touches; one minute it was a lazy lap that seemed to stretch on forever and left him on the edge, the next little licks and sucks that only served to make it impossible to think.

Short, incoherent noises were beginning to fall from his lips by the time a slick finger slipped across his entrance. Hunter moaned, head falling back on to Scott’s shoulder as Shawn slid his finger in, thrusting gently as he took the head of Hunter’s length into his mouth. “God, yes, Shawn…”

“That’s it, chico. That feel good?” Scott’s voice didn’t distract from the rising pleasure burning through him, only mingled with it until the two became indistinct. Fingers rubbed gently over his nipples, adding to the burn.

Hunter nearly purred, liquid with pleasure and shuddering in his arms as Shawn’s fingertip brushed over his prostrate. “Mmm, yeah…”

Shawn moved suddenly, taking the rest of him in. Hunter jerked, his breath coming in sharp little gasps as Shawn began to rise and fall on him. The pleasure built, frighteningly high, as Shawn moved fractionally faster, Hunter’s whimpers scaling up into a low moan. The sound broke off into a soft, broken mewl as he came, shuddering hard in Scott’s arms.

Shawn stayed with him, murmuring happily, prolonging the climax until the tension melted from Hunter and he slumped back into Scott. With a smug smirk, he kissed Hunter’s stomach lightly. “There. That’s much better. You won’t pace.”

“I can’t move,” Hunter complained half-heartedly, growling when Scott kissed his temple, then behind his ear. “You know, you could have at least steered me into the living room. I can’t sleep on the table.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Scott murmured, smiling gently. “I wouldn’t have made it into the living room, chico. Missed hearing you come, so quiet. And you needed that anyway.”

“Besides,” Shawn commented, rubbing his cheek against Hunter’s stomach like a kitten in search of attention, “you’re so cute when you squirm.”

“Fuck you,” Hunter replied without venom.

“Somebody’s grumpy.” Despite his tone, Shawn climbed to his feet, helping Hunter off the table.

“I’m fine,” Hunter protested, straightening. Both Scott and Shawn moved to catch him when he nearly fell.

Shawn got there first, steadying him gently. “Okay, that’s it,” he said, slipping an arm around him to steer him out of the room. “Time to go sit down before you hurt yourself.”

“And who’s fault would that be?” When Shawn blinked innocently, Hunter rolled his eyes and muttered, “One of these days I’m gonna throw you on a table, suck you off and see how you like it.”

Smirking as they staggered out the door, Shawn asked hopefully, “Promise?”

Scott watched them go, and waited until the door swung closed before shaking his head ruefully. “Figures.” Pulling open the oven, he laughed. “Between the two of them, they don’t even get half a clue.”
---
Four hours. He’d been out here, in the snow and the cold, for four hours.

Sean exhaled slowly, trying to keep his breathing steady as he turned west. His muscles felt weak and liquid with fatigue, his body trembling as he pushed it even harder. Swallowing against the urge to pant for air, he stepped out into the forward stance and blocked a low blow from an imaginary opponent.

Doing katas didn’t require thought anymore; the easier ones came as naturally as breathing. The exercise and the fatigue cleared his head, distracted him from the lingering ache in his chest. It took away the image of hazel-blue eyes, the warmth of Shawn’s body solid against his back.

Biting his lower lip, Sean stepped forward again with a high punch. He turned with liquid grace to face east, falling into the same stance, repeating the block and the punch.

This shouldn’t be bothering him anymore. It had been years since Shawn had broken it off. Anyone else wouldn’t be so stupid as to sit around pining for a man who was married with a child. He should be able to forget it, damn it.

Another turn, to the north this time. Another block, another punch. The motions were soothing in their repetition, almost enough to ignore the return of the pain.

He shouldn’t be remembering what it felt like to have Shawn curled around him, holding him protectively like he was something precious. He shouldn’t remember slow-dancing around some anonymous, forgettable hotel room in some equally anonymous and forgettable town, afraid to open his eyes and let the tears fall while Shawn murmured crazy, forbidden words into his ear. He shouldn’t ache for the touch of Shawn’s hands on him, wake up tasting his kiss only to remember that it was all over. He shouldn’t wake up whimpering, shivering at the memory of that one hard punch that had brought his world to a crunching halt. He shouldn’t.

Another step forward. An upper block this time. He could depend on these motions not to change without warning. They stayed the same, safe and dependable and there.

The whole fucking relationship had obviously been a mistake. They had both been drinking or using drugs, on their own little paths to self-destruction. It had been the addictions that did it; there had never been anything there, not really. Sean bit his lip against a bitter laugh until he tasted blood.

Yeah. Nothing there at all. He should stop caring about this, move on and let Shawn go to hell. After all, what reason did he have for still caring when Shawn didn’t-

Sean faltered to a stop, nearly tripping as he went cold at the thought. He gave up on steady breathing, gave up on not trembling, as the realization ripped through him. His knees folded out from under him, and he went down gracelessly in the snow.

Shawn didn’t care. Didn’t love him, or want him, or even think of him as anything but a surrogate little brother. He never had. He never would.

Fresh pain tore up his throat, burned at his eyes. Sean nearly choked on a whimper, his breathing going ragged. The cold raked up the inside of his throat, but he didn’t particularly care. Pressing his palm mercilessly into his eye, trying to stop the tears he could feel building, he gritted to himself, “No. God damn it, stop, you’re not that much of a fucking pussy to cry over this! Over him. Fine, he doesn’t want me, so fucking what. I don’t care-“ His voice wavered on the edge of breaking, and he cursed. “Fuck!”

Climbing to his feet, he staggered, then fell into the forward stance. The rhythm of the kata came back, and he went with it. This time there was no easy grace, no serenity. He moved fast, his motions almost jerky. Once the first kata was finished, he fell into another, then another, each more advanced until his muscles burned and his pulse pounded in his head. Any tears, any memory was burned out of him as he moved, pushing himself to the limit and past it. Thought blurred until everything was motion and tension and pain.

Then his legs folded out from under him.

Sean stumbled, falling against a tree and grabbing it for support. His breaths were coming in near gasps, painful and wracking. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the rough bark of the tree until the world stopped spinning around him. Everything felt weak now, almost numb, the kind of feeling that always turned into aches later. Reaching up with a shaky hand, he wiped at his face, clearing away the wetness he could feel there. It wasn’t all sweat.

A hand touched his shoulder, gripping lightly, and he raised his head to blink at Joanie. He offered her a tired, fake smile. “Hey. Ready to go in yet?”

“Uh huh. I nearly broke Kevin, so maybe we better.” Tilting her head, she studied him. “Sean, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh… yeah, just tired. Overworked myself.” Sean offered her a shaky grin, slowly straightening up. The world almost didn’t tilt that time. “Hi, Kev,” he added, unable to resist a smirk at the ragged look about the older man who was nearly limping as he joined them.

Kevin sighed and shook his head. “If you weren’t such a hyperactive brat, kid, I wouldn’t look half this bad. So restrain the gloating, huh?” Suddenly noticing the slump to Sean’s shoulders, he frowned. “Christ, you did overdo it, didn’t you?”

Rolling his eyes, Sean argued, “Kev, I’ll live.”

Joanie slipped a companionable arm around his shoulders, wincing inwardly when she felt him shaking. “Let’s get you inside anyway.”

“Would you two quit ganging up on me?” Sean complained half-heartedly as Kevin wrapped an arm around his ribs. The next lie came easily, fueled by years of practice as he added, “This is nothing that a cup of coffee won’t cure.”

Somehow, neither Joanie nor Kevin quite believed that anymore.
---
The door opened and several of the walking dead stumbled in. Or so it appeared, anyway.

Straightening from where he had been leaning against the kitchen counter, Scott bit back a curse at the sight of them. All three of them, Kevin, Joanie and Sean, looked like hell. Kevin looked exhausted, and Sean was shaking. Even Joanie was a little ragged on the edges.

Scott set down his cup of coffee and crossed the room. “Christ. What happened out there, the apocalypse?” Putting his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, he forced him down into a chair and, leaving one hand where it was, reached over to touch Sean’s face. “You okay, chico?”

With a sigh of mock-disgust, Sean pulled his head away and demanded, “Why does everybody keep asking me that? I’m fine.”

“Gee, maybe we’re asking because you look half-dead,” Kevin commented, leaning his head back until it bumped into Scott’s stomach.

Slanting him a dark look, Sean retorted, “Like you should talk.” He probably would have done on, but Joanie interrupted him by silently handing him a steaming cup of coffee. With a grateful sigh, he wrapped his hands around the cup and smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Using her arm draped around his shoulders, she steered him towards the living room. “C’mon, time to sit down.”

He didn’t reply, too occupied in trying to get a sip of the precious liquid in the mug. That probably explained why he didn’t notice that Shawn was slung across the couch, watching them with wide eyes, until after she had maneuvered him into sitting down. She could feel him stiffen as he realized, his grip on the mug’s handle tightening until his knuckles were white. The look on his face was the only thing that didn’t betray him. He had years of practice, after all.

Pressing a light kiss to Sean’s temple, Joanie brushed back the hair clinging to his forehead and smiled. “I’m gonna go upstairs and take a nap. Talk to you in a few hours.”

That finally made his eyes widen. For a moment, Sean looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and make her take him with her. She just smiled again, gently, and shook her head. “You’ll be fine,” she mouthed.

Rising, she walked back into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as she saw the scene within. Scott had switched from standing behind the chair to sitting in Kevin’s lap, leaning into the bigger man’s body so closely that their foreheads rested together. Kevin murmured something, his smile for the other man oddly gentle, and Scott chuckled softly before pressing a light kiss to his lips. The connection, the love, between the two men was an almost solid thing. Joanie swallowed, feeling distinctly like an intruder. Before she could try to slip out, Scott glanced up at her, then smirked. “That was cruel, chica, leaving poor Sean like that.”

She shrugged. “They’re gonna have to deal with it one way or another. They can’t do that with us hovering all the time. Besides, I’ve already warned Shawn that if he hurts the kid again I’ll rip him a new one.”

“That’d be good, if Michaels ever hurt him on purpose.” Kevin sighed, looping his arms around Scott’s waist. “The one time he did, he still has nightmares and guilt trips about constantly. Every other time has been Shawn trying NOT to hurt him.”

“Damn.” Letting her head drop, Joanie looked at Scott. “Would you guys mind keeping watch for a while, then?”

“I’m still high on endorphins, so no problem.” Kevin grinned at her, then commanded gently, “Go take a nap with Hunter, you look tired.”

Scott let her get halfway through the door before asking, “Hey, chica?”

Pausing with her hand on the door, she asked curiously, “Yeah?”

“When were you planning to let Sean know that you put enough liquor in that coffee, which was decaf to begin with, to take down a horse?”

Joanie leaned against the doorframe, and smirked. “I think he’ll find that one out pretty well on his own.”
--
 There was discomfort in the tense silence reigning the small living room as the door shut behind Joanie. Sean and Shawn stared at each other, both left frozen and speechless by Joanie’s departure. With a sudden jolt, Sean jerked his eyes down to the cup in his hands. Concentrating on the warmth and the rising steam, and on ignoring the feeling of Shawn’s eyes on him. “Hi,” he muttered to break the silence, bringing the mug up to take a drink. It tasted… wrong, somehow.
 
Pulled out of his silence by the soft word, Shawn noticed the fine tremor running through Sean’s hands, the pale and clammy look of his skin. Awkwardness was overridden by the concern that colored his words. “Kid, you look like hell.”

Sean smirked humorlessly, and began to say something, only to freeze as Shawn reached out and laid the back of his fingers on Sean’s cheek. Shawn considered for a moment, then moved his hand up and lightly brushed dark hair off of Sean’s forehead before feeling that as well.

Sean’s eyes flickered closed on a shuddering breath as he struggled through the sweet lance of pain the light touch sent through him. Shawn’s hand felt good against his chilled skin, warming him, melting away the tension he could feel building in his temples.

“You don’t feel like you’ve got a fever,” Shawn murmured, unable to resist the urge to run his fingers down Sean’s jaw before moving it away. As Sean began to blink his eyes open, Shawn looked away and noticed that the mug was in serious danger of spilling. Moving his hands down without thinking, he cupped his hands over Sean’s to steady the shaking, lacing their fingers together. His eyes flicked up to meet Sean’s gaze. “Your hands are freezing.”

With a shrug, Sean offered him a false smile. “It’s cold out there.” When he tried to raise the mug to take another drink, Shawn moved with him, still keeping the cup steady. Sean paused to glare at him. “Shawn, I’ve been handling the whole drinking thing quite well by myself for the last twenty eight years. I don’t need your help now.”

“Your hands are shaking, kid. If I let go you’re gonna drop the mug. I don’t want you burned.” The last words came out softer than he intended, almost tender. Shawn winced inwardly.

For a moment, Sean didn’t reply, making Shawn tense up. Just as he was about to pull away, Sean gave a laugh that was ever so slightly shaky on the edges. Damn. He’d scared the kid. Seemed like that was all he was good for. “Christ, Michaels, why don’t you go get me a tippy-cup too?”

Shawn managed a wry smile. “Sorry. Too much time around Cameron.”

Staring resolutely at the coffee table, he never saw the wince, then the bitter smirk that touched Sean’s face at the comparison. “Yeah,” Sean muttered, bringing the mug up. “Right.”

Trying to kill the sudden cold wrench in his stomach, Sean tilted the cup back and downed almost half. The coffee burned down his throat, making him wince until it settled into an almost searing warmth in his stomach. As the heat slowly faded into something mellow and comfortable, undoing the knot of tension and pain in his stomach, he began to notice the lingering burn in his throat, the odd taste on his tongue.

Joanie had spiked the coffee.

“Shit,” Sean muttered unsteadily, eyes going wide as he felt his balance waver. He had been tired to the point of being dizzy even before taking a drink. Now there was no way in hell that he was getting upstairs under his one power. Turning to Shawn, he began plaintively, “Shawn…”

“What?” Startled by the sudden stare fixed on him, Shawn pulled the mug away and put it down on the table. “What do you need, kid?”

You. The word was there, just on the tip of his tongue. Sean bit it back hard, then let his head fall back as he struggled to gather his thoughts. There was no way he was opening his mouth until he was sure that the only thing coming out was a request to help him upstairs.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, making him raise his head. Shawn had shifted closer sometime in the last moment, his body a comforting, solid and warm temptation just within reach. All he had to do was lean over a few inches and he could claim those lips. Shawn didn’t make it any easier, sliding an arm around Sean’s shoulders and shaking him gently. “Hey. Sean, you all right?”

Damn. He couldn’t even handle this alert and sober, let alone exhausted and half-drunk. Taking a deep breath, Sean let his head hit Shawn’s shoulder and rest there. It was a comforting enough cushion, solid muscle underneath the warm softness of a battered sweatshirt. He could smell Shawn, an intoxicating mixture of aftershave, shampoo and some darker, deeper scent that made his body stir, tired as he was. It was bittersweet memory, one he wanted to wrap himself up in and sleep through the nightmares that came with it. It was insane.

Oh… this was pain. Shawn bit his lip hard, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around the younger man and hold on tight. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to let go again. Sean looked younger than his twenty-seven years right now, his eyes closed, his face pale and expression shadowed with pain and fatigue where dark hair didn’t shield it. His stomach knotted, pain stabbing through hard, at the look on  the younger man’s face. It made something protective stir in him, despite the fact that time had proven he had never been able to do anything but hurt him. It made him want what he couldn’t have. Shawn moved without thinking, smoothing his hand over the tangled dark waves with a cautious touch he never used with anyone else, half-afraid that the younger man would pull away, half-afraid that he wouldn’t. “Sean?” he murmured.

Sean shuddered at the touch, the soft rumbling purr that came with it, and buried his head in the sweatshirt without thinking. He had to get up. He had to leave. But, God, he was tired of running like this. He was so tired, and it felt so good to lay like this…

Just a minute. He’d only stay for a minute…

Shawn stilled as Sean slowly went boneless against him, his breathing evening out. The traces of pain faded away bit by bit, leaving only a sweetly vulnerable expression that did nothing to ease the ache in Shawn’s chest. With a soft sigh, Sean rubbed his cheek against Shawn’s shoulder, molding himself closer. Shawn froze, terrified to move in fear of waking him. After a moment, he cautiously moved his arm to curl around Sean’s waist. Sean sighed again, nuzzling his head into the crook of Shawn’s throat, Shawn’s body tightening with every soft breath.

He ought to move him. He should call in Kev and have him help carry Sean upstairs to his own bed, where he’d be more comfortable than trying to sleep sitting up. The selfish part of Shawn rebelled against that, wanting to bury his nose in Sean’s hair, to kiss him and hold him as he slept, to carry upstairs to Shawn’s bed so that the sheets smelled like him the next morning, to do a hundred other petty things that he shouldn’t. That he couldn’t.

But it wasn’t so bad not to move, right? It wasn’t like it would hurt the kid. Already Sean’s shivers were dying down, the tension in his body fading away. Yeah, it wouldn’t do any good to wake him.

Shawn smirked bitterly at himself. Right. Christ, he was a pitiful, broken down old fuck, getting excited at the thought of just watching Sean as he slept, getting hard at the soft touch of Sean’s breath on his throat. He had fucked up his chance at having this maddening, frustrating, beautiful tangle of energy for keeps. He had to let him go this time. He had to let him go.

Sean made a soft noise in his sleep, shifting to get comfortable again. If he slept upright, he was going to get a hell of a crick in his neck. Shawn hesitated, then sighed and cautiously slipped his arms around Sean, lowering him to lay stretched out on the couch. He lingered for a moment too long, savoring the feeling of Sean in his arms, then shook himself and tried to ease off of the couch without waking him.

In one quick motion, Sean stirred, shifting until his head rested on Shawn’s thighs. Rubbing his cheek against the makeshift pillow, he curled up on his side and, with another content noise, was still.

Shawn sat, frozen, beneath the warm and heavy weight on his legs. There was no way to get out from under him without waking him. The kid had looked absolutely exhausted; he shouldn’t wake him unless he had to. Which meant that he was stuck.

With a sigh, Shawn reached down and smoothed the hair off of Sean’s face. “Y’know, kid, if you wanted a pillow, you could have just asked.”

Sean leaned his head into the touch, almost purring in his sleep.

With a gentle smile, Shawn said warmly, “Brat.”

Settling back against the cushions, he idly toyed with Sean’s hair. All he could do now was sit and wait.

So much for letting go.
---
The sound of quiet snoring greeted Joanie as she slipped through the doorway and into she and Hunter’s room, making her pause and smile fondly at the figure in the bed. Hunter had pulled the sheets up far enough that the only thing visible was a tangle of amber hair on the pillow. Even without the visual cue, though, she could have recognized that snoring in a heartbeat after a couple of years sleeping with Hunter almost every night. It had slowly changed from something she tried to block out to something she could see listening to for the rest of her life.

And, if the ring on her finger was any indication, that was the plan.

With a wry smile, Joanie began to unbutton her shirt. A few years ago, she would have laughed her ass off if someone told her that she, Joanie Lee Laurer, unattractive, ball-busting product of one of the most fucked up families in existence, would be getting married at all, let alone to a man who was an unadulterated wuss at heart, no matter how hard he struggled to be a bad ass. An attractive, oddly sweet man with plenty of other options, no less.

The first time he had asked her out, as fumbling and shy as a teenager trying to ask out the prom queen even though it was years before she’d had the plastic surgery, she hadn’t been able to figure out what his angle was. She had it narrowed down to either curiosity about how good a freak would be in bed, or just a cruel joke waiting to happen. When the months went by without him pushing her for sex and without the joke’s punchline, she started to realize the truth: Hunter didn’t have an angle. To a woman who had learned never to trust anything with a y chromosome, it was something of a shock.

And, over the next few months, she slowly but surely started to fall. It started with the little things. His inability to go more than two hours without tripping over something became endearing. She started to get annoyed, then angry, with every sharp word or tactless comment Shawn threw at him, even if Shawn managed not to notice that it knocked Hunter’s self-confidence out from under him every time. She imagined his arms around her as she slept, and kept wanting them there even as she berated herself for being stupid enough to trust him when he could be gone any minute. And when she finally broke down and asked him to stay the night with her…

Joanie smiled softly, giving the sleeping man under the blankets a sidelong look as she unfastened her bra. She could still remember the expression on his face when she asked, the frozen, half-terrified, half-ecstatic look in his eyes, the bright smile he gave her. He’d stumbled over himself trying to take care of her, sweet and generous, as cautious as if she had been made of fragile glass. She had almost had to plead with him to get him to move faster, harder…

A shiver went through her at the memory, making her falter slightly as she unbuttoned the jeans. With a dark smirk, she shook her head. Hunter had a firm grip on her hormones as well as her heart, even if he sometimes didn’t seem to know it. Although snapping at him this morning probably hadn’t helped that. He was stressed about the wedding anyway, drawn tight as a bowstring with his own anxiety, probably terrified that she’d leave him at the aisle.

Damned, frustrating man. Didn’t he know that she was just as unnerved about this as he was? Didn’t he know that if she bolted on him now, she’d leave half of herself behind?

Shaking her head against the feeling, she smirked to herself. Christ, and she got on his case for being sappy? Sliding her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, she sighed. Maybe she ought to talk to him before he drove himself up the wall…

A soft noise from the bed made her still and look up. Hunter was awake, sitting up among the tangled sheets. His clothes were in a tangle on the floor, his hair rumpled and falling in his face, his eyes dark and hungry as they scanned over her body. After a moment, she met the stare with another smirk, deliberately inching the underwear down before letting them fall. “Something you wanted?” she murmured into the intense silence.

Holding out a hand, Hunter said softly, huskily, “Come here.”

Joanie smiled for him and moved forward, taking his hand and letting him pull her up against him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, as he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. As the kisses became deeper, harder, she could feel him hardening beneath the sheet and smiled crookedly as he began to lower her to the bed. He put an arm down on each side of her head, his eyes intense with an emotion she couldn’t read as they searched her face. “Jo,” he murmured finally, his warm breath against her throat making her shiver, “let me take care of you tonight. Let me touch you.”

Tilting her head back, shivering as his lips brushed over the underside of her jaw, she nodded. They could talk later; he’d still be there. As for now…

He nuzzled her throat, pressing soft, warm kisses down the tendons before licking lightly at the base. With a soft moan, she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, waiting for the soft nip at the junction of her throat, where he always marked her whenever he could find an excuse. This time, though, he moved past it with only a light kiss. Bewildered, she raised her head to look at him. “Hunter?”

“Shh.” Hunter didn’t even look at her, kissing his way over her collarbone, darting his tongue across the hollows. Rubbing his cheek against the path his mouth had taken, he let out a shaky breath. “It’s all right, baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he slid down a little further, kissing the place between her breasts as he cupped one in his hand. Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the top of her nipple until it peaked, he ran his tongue up the inside of her breast before drawing her other nipple between his lips and sucking gently. She moaned huskily, resting a hand on the back of his neck to hold him there. He didn’t resist, flaying the tip of her nipple with his tongue until it was very nearly painful, pinching the other lightly. When she shivered under him, her hips shifting up against his stomach, he smiled against her skin and nuzzled her gently. “Love the way you taste,” he murmured, his voice soft and smitten.

The light touch of his fingertips trailing up the inside of her thighs, parting her legs, made her squirm. When they stopped just at the tops of her thighs, she growled in mock-warning. “Hunter…”

He laughed, but there was a wrong note to the sound, one that made concern tighten in her stomach. Before she could ask, he ducked his head, nuzzling at her hipbones as one fingertip slid through her wetness. Any concern was torn from her as she whimpered, her hips jerking up into his touch. Hunter made a soft answering noise, somewhere between a moan and a growl, then trailed his tongue down the side of her thigh and inside again. Resting his cheek against her thigh, he paused, seeming to take it in, the sweet and wild scent, the slickness of her juices wet on his fingers. She growled again in frustration, tugging lightly on his hair, but he didn’t move.

Finally, he let out a hard breath that ran up the insides of her thighs and made her shiver. Bending, he pressed his lips against the inside of her knee, darting his tongue out to taste the sensitive skin. His mouth trailed up in a line of heat over her skin, as inexorably slow as the pace of his finger rocking inside her. By the time he nudged her thighs apart, her whimpers had scaled up into a constant moan, her hips rocking against his hand.

Hunter let out another shaky breath, looking up at her through his hair, and smirked unsteadily. “You’re beautiful, Jo,” he murmured. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Leaning in, he pressed a light kiss to her clit, even that small touch making her shudder. He added another finger, rubbing them against the slick heat of her inner walls. His tongue trailed around her clit, lapping her juices away from the hard nub. She shuddered violently at the touch, tangling both hands in his hair as she arched against him with a broken sound. “Ah… God, Hunter, harder…”

He complied, drawing her clit between his lips to suck gently and shivering as she clenched around his fingers. Her soft gasps scaled up into the occasional soft mewl, incoherent but as affecting as a thousand words. He rubbed the tip of his tongue down the side of her clit, sucking harder. Joanie cried out, her grip on his hair tightening to the verge of pain. With a soft growl, he drove his fingers in harder, gently running his teeth over her.

Head falling back, Joanie arched up into him with a quiet, broken gasp as release swept over her. He stayed with her, slowing his touches until she stopped clenching around him and slumped, still shuddering, to the bed. Running his hands soothingly down her thighs, he pressed a last kiss to her hip before crawling up her body.

Hunter touched her cheek with his fingertips, stroking her jaw as carefully as if he was afraid to break her until her eyelashes stirred and she blinked up at him. “Jo?” he asked anxiously, his eyes searching her face.

Offering him a tired smile, she nuzzled his hand. “Hi.” With a glance down, she smirked slightly and ran her hand down his side to where the sheet began. “Want me to take care of that?”

She started, surprised, when he shook his head and laid his hand over hers. “Jo, it’s all right. You don’t have to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, I don’t have to?”

The fact that Hunter suddenly seemed determined to look anywhere but at her was less than reassuring. “Nothing. I wanted to take care of you, that’s all. You look tired, and if you don’t want to-”

“And if I do want to?” Joanie sat up, laying a hand on the shoulder of her fiancé, who was looking more like a kicked puppy with every passing second. “Hunter, what’s the matter?”

With a sigh, Hunter slid out of bed and away from her. “Nothing.”

“So why won’t you look at me?”

He flinched, ducking his head until hair veiled his eyes. For a moment, he seemed frozen there, barely even breathing. Just as Joanie was about to push the sheet aside and go to shake him out of it, he raised his head. The raw pain in his eyes froze her, tearing open an answering pain in her chest. With a helpless shrug, he said simply, “I love you.”

Joanie could only stare at him for a long moment, taken aback by that pain. How long had it been there without her seeing it? Why was it even there at all? A hundred questions threatened, but when she reached for him all that came out was a soft, “Hunter, come here.”

It wasn’t enough.

Edging back, Hunter shook his head too hastily and reached for his jeans. “Don’t worry about it, Jo. It’s okay.”

 “Hunter-“

For once, he ignored her, talking right over her in desperation. “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap or something, okay? I’m gonna run down to the kitchen. I’ll be back later.”

“God damn it, Hunter-“

All she received was a wan, totally false smile as he tugged on his jeans and went to the door. “I’ll see you, love. Sweet dreams.”

“Hunter!”

She was yelling at a closed door.

Slumping against the headboard as she stared after him, Joanie raked a hand through her hair. She could still feel the afterimages of his hands on her, yet for once he wasn’t cuddled up against her side murmuring sweet words or slipping into a nearly comatose sleep. Instead, he was running downstairs for the kitchen, away from her, less than a minute after he’d said that he loved her, with her smell on his hands and that pain sharp in his eyes.

What the hell was going on?
---
Well. Wasn’t this a heartwarming scene.

Leaning against the doorframe of the living room, Scott smirked into the darkness at the two men on the couch. In the last few hours, Sean hadn’t even twitched, still curled up on his side with his cheek pressed firmly against Shawn’s leg. Sometime since he had last checked on them, Shawn had dozed off. His head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle against the back of the couch, his eyelashes fluttering as if his sleep was uneasy. One of his hands was still resting on Sean’s head, fingers tangled lightly in the dark hair.

With an exasperated sigh that was mostly show for no one in particular, Scott crossed the room to the couch. Kneeling, he eased the blanket up from where it was tangled around Sean’s legs, and drew it up to carefully tuck it around the younger man’s shoulders. Sean must have been exhausted. Under normal circumstances he would have jerked awake at the first touch, yet tonight he didn’t even stir. Tucking a lock of dark hair behind Sean’s ear and out of his eyes, Scott spared him a warm smile before turning his attention to the other man.

Shawn looked… bad. From this close, it was painfully easy to read every emotion flickering across his face. Even Shawn couldn’t keep his expressions guarded all the time. Now that the guards had all fallen away, the weight of fatigue and guilt resting hard on him, he looked terribly young. As he watched, Shawn twitched uneasily in his sleep, a low moan that was almost a name slipping through his parted lips.

“Chico?” Scott murmured cautiously. Reaching up, he shook Shawn’s shoulder as gently as he could. It wasn’t gently enough.

Shawn flinched under the touch, jerking half-upright and awake, a short, pained cry torn from him. “Sean!”

Startled, Scott pushed him back, feeling the younger man’s heart racing under his palm. When Shawn struggled, still caught between nightmare and reality, he soothed, “Shh, chico, it’s all right. It’s just a nightmare.”

His words didn’t seem to reach the younger man. Shawn’s head tossed restlessly against the couch, a low moan slipping between his lips. “Sean… baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Scott winced. Catching Shawn’s head between his hands, he held him still. “Shawn, take it easy. You’re okay. The kid’s okay. Calm down.” When Shawn’s eyes flickered open, he made a little encouraging noise, stroking his jaw. “There you go. Christ, chico, settle down. You’ll wake up the kid.”

That seemed to reach him. Shawn blinked at him, some sanity returning to his eyes, even though they were as wide as a rabbit’s in the headlights. “Scott?” he said finally, his voice small. If the look on his face hadn’t given away the fact that he was only half-awake, that voice would have.

Nodding, Scott idly rubbed the chest under his palm, trying to slow the racing pulse. “Another nightmare?”

Shawn’s glance away was a better answer than anything he could have said aloud. “It’s nothing.” Touching Sean, more for his own reassurance than the younger man’s, he smoothed out the lines that had creased his forehead and made little soothing noises. When Sean finally sighed and relaxed, cuddling down into the couch, Shawn smiled faintly. Even his smile looked strained, worn on the edges. “What did Jo do to him?”

Scott did his best to look innocent. “Do?”

Still running his fingers through Sean’s hair, using him as a touchstone, Shawn said sardonically, “Yeah, do. He wouldn’t sleep through me jumping halfway through the ceiling otherwise.”

“Jumping through the ceiling? And here I thought it was nothing.” Scott leaned against the couch, leaving his hand on Shawn’s chest. He could feel the younger man’s frantic pulse slowing to more normal levels, and see the mask sliding back into place. It unnerved him. How long had Shawn been hiding this? With an easy shrug, he said, “Jo didn’t do anything to him, except give him good old fashioned exercise and a fifth of Daniels.”

Shawn snorted fondly. “Crafty wench.” His smile faded abruptly as Sean shivered, curling tighter into himself. Feeling Sean’s forehead, Shawn raised wide eyes to Scott. “He’s not getting sick…?”

Scott chuckled. “Chico, if he had any idea you were doing that, he’d break your arm.”

“Doing what?”

“Doting.” Poking Shawn’s knee, Scott explained patiently, “Sean’s fine, Michaels. You just want an excuse to hover.”

That provoked another snort. “Right. Like I need another reason to worry about the psychotic little fuck.”

With a soft laugh, Scott said, “Speaking of, it’s about time all good psychotic little fucks were in bed.”

Shawn gave him a lopsided smile. “I think Sean’s already decided that this is bed.”

Reaching up, Scott brushed the hair out of Shawn’s face and told him gently, “I meant you. Shawn, you look-“

Jerking his head away, Shawn replied tersely, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Scott hesitated, his hand hovering over Shawn’s shoulder, then sighed and let his hand drop. “Okay.” Sitting back, he asked, “You sure you don’t want me to help you carry him upstairs?”

“Very.” Watching Scott shrug, then straighten the blankets draped over Sean’s slim form, he added, “He’s just gonna kick those down again, you know.”

“I know.” With that, Scott leaned in and kissed Sean’s temple, nuzzling his hair lightly before pulling away. Sean made a little complaining noise and shifted restlessly. Stroking his temple with his fingertips until Sean settled down again, Scott chuckled indulgently, then looked up at Shawn. “Probably better we just leave him. We’d throw our backs out.”

Shawn’s laugh was startlingly bitter. “Yeah. And at least you have Kev to take care of it.”

Scott stared at him for a moment, taken off guard, then sighed. “You could have someone if you wanted, Shawn. You know that.”

With a sad smile, Shawn shook his head and looked down at the young man resting against him. “Not the one I really want.”

Tilting his head, Scott inquired, “No?” When Shawn turned a startled look on him, Scott gave him a lopsided smile and kissed his cheek. “Think about it, chico,” he murmured into his ear. “And get some sleep, for Christ’s sake.”

The quick press of Shawn’s lips to his jaw took Scott by surprise. He sat back, and Shawn rewarded him with a genuine smile. “I missed you, you know.”

Scott smirked at him, tousling the already sleep-rumpled tawny hair. “Missed you too.” Turning to go, he paused halfway through the doorway to toss back, “But I’ll still kick your ass if I find you sitting out here at three in the morning.”

As soon as he heard the door click shut, Shawn relaxed back against the couch cushions. He could still feel cold sweat from the nightmare drying on his back, but the shivers had died down and he could feel his heartbeat slowing back to normal rates. He could almost pretend that it had never happened.

With a sigh, he combed his fingers through Sean’s hair, enjoying the feel of it slipping silkily across his hand and Sean’s sleepy noises of pleasure. The kid had always been a sucker for that kind of thing. Once upon a time, Shawn had been able to press up behind him in the shower and wash his hair for him when the kid’s back was aching again. It made Sean purr like a very content kitten, sighing Shawn’s name into the spray.

As much as that memory stung with the knowledge that he could never feel Sean melt into him like that again, it felt surprisingly good. He didn’t let himself think about those times much, especially at home with Becca and Cameron. He had almost managed to forget the gaping hole in him, a hole that Sean had once filled. This, even with the kid no longer his, felt like paradise.

It had been too long since all the Kliq had been together. He had missed them, all of them, more than he missed the ring and almost as much as missed the times when he had really been one of them. Now he stood on the outside. Kevin had Scott, and vice versa; Hunter, Jo and Sean had each other; and he had the Hoover, who had started demanding a divorce as soon as the hospital bills were paid off. Three guesses as to who would get Cameron.

Cameron. His son was all he had left anymore. He had lost his job, his friends, two wives, and the only person he had ever been able to love, and every part of it was his own damned fault. It was too much. If he lost Cameron…

A shard of the tension that had begun around Christmas and lingered ever since slid through his chest and twisted sharply. With a shuddering breath, Shawn closed his eyes tightly and shoved the thought away. It was better to concentrate on the moment, on the young man laying across him. His hands were trembling as he stroked the kid’s hair, tracing his jaw with his thumb.

His eyes snapped open as Sean stirred suddenly, shifting under his hand. Shawn watched the dark eyelashes flutter over pale skin, smiling with bemusement at the urge to lean down and kiss his eyelids. It was the little things that always got to him. He fought the smile down as Sean’s eyes opened, searching the darkness before fixing on him.

For a moment, Sean’s eyes went wide in surprise and he tensed up. Just as Shawn was ready to move, some realization struck the younger man, making him relax. An amazed, incredibly sweet smile touched his face, drawing an answering smile from Shawn. Turning his head, he rested his cheek against Shawn’s stomach and blinked drowsily up at him, obviously still half-asleep.

Shawn swallowed through a suddenly tight throat against the flare of pain that smile caused. Touching Sean’s cheek, meaning it to be an affectionate swat but somehow letting it linger, he murmured thickly, “Hey, kid. Feel better?”

Sean tilted his head into the touch, almost nuzzling him, and greeted simply, “Shawn.” His eyes flicked through the half-light, more curious than concerned. “Time is it?”

“’Bout half past nine,” Shawn replied, his voice less than steady as his nerves sang from the light touch. Without thinking, he laid his hand on Sean’s shoulder to hold him where he was. All he needed was another few moments of Sean resting against him.

After one aborted attempt to sit up, Sean gave in and lay back with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, man. I’m kinda using you as my own personal cushion.”

His smile felt dangerously gentle, but there was nothing he could do to suppress it. Besides, it was better than wrapping Sean up in his arms and volunteering to be his cushion for life. “It was no problem, kid.”

Another thought seemed to strike Sean, and he frowned up at Shawn. “Have you been sitting here all this time?”

Caught. It was his turn to grin sheepishly, and shrug. “I didn’t have anything better to do. Besides, you looked tired. I didn’t want to wake you up or anything.” When Sean stared at him, eyes wide in astonishment, Shawn couldn’t help asking, “What?”

Sean’s sudden, bright smile caught Shawn unprepared, hitting him like a punch to the stomach. “Thank you,” he said finally, sounding half-amazed. “That was nice of you.”

He chuckled despite himself. “Christ, kid, it’s not like I gave you my lung.”

“No, but… thanks anyway, man.” With another smile, Sean squirmed under his hand, trying to sit up. Shawn reluctantly let him, then blinked in surprise as Sean wrapped an arm around his waist. Cautiously, he returned the favor, curling an arm around Sean’s shoulders to let him move closer if he wanted to. Apparently Sean wanted to, because he curled up against Shawn’s side with a grin touched by what may have been relief. “And here we go with that cushion thing again.”

That grin pushed back the darkness of his brooding if even for that moment. Shawn laughed as the tightness in his chest loosened for the first time in months. “Am I really that comfortable, kid?”

Sean must have felt him relax, because he leaned a little closer and nodded. “Oh, definitely.” Reaching up, he caught some of Shawn’s hair that spilled over his shoulder like a tawny waterfall. He wrapped it around his fingers and held it up, his expression rapt as he studied the change of colors as the light touched it. Without looking up, he asked, “You know what’d be cool?”

There was a slight hesitation in the question, as if he expected rebuke, and it made Shawn look at him. “What’d be cool?” he replied compliantly.

Sounding just a little too nonchalant, Sean said, “If you went outside with me before we headed out to town tomorrow night. Play in the snow, breathe in clean air, all that.” With a light tug to Shawn’s hair, he added playfully, “Don’t be such a grown-up.’

“Well, there’s a phrase I never expected to hear directed at me.” When Sean just laughed, Shawn rumpled his hair lightly. “Sean, you were exhausted after playing in the snow. You, oh endless source of energy. I’d probably kill myself trying to keep up with you.”

Looking up at Shawn hopefully, Sean smirked at him. “Oh, c’mon. I promise I’ll go easy on you…”

“You wore out Joanie,” Shawn argued. When Sean only blinked at him, too busy biting back a yawn to reply, Shawn smirked. “You wore out yourself. C’mon, kid, I’ll walk you to bed before you pass out on me again.”

Tilting his head, Sean studied him thoughtfully. Then, so unexpectedly that Shawn started, Sean cupped his cheek. His palm rasped over the stubble as he turned Shawn’s face towards him. His playful smile faded as he murmured, his eyes dark with concern and another emotion Shawn couldn’t define, “You look like hell, Michaels. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. You’ve lost weight. You don’t smile half as much as you used to. You look like you haven’t slept in a month solid, and you’re trying to tuck me in?”

Shawn flinched, looking away. “It’s been a rough few months with Becca and Cam, that’s all. It’s not your problem.”

Sean’s palm rasped over the stubble as he turned Shawn’s face towards him, and held him there with a firm grip on his jaw. His eyes burned into Shawn’s as he demanded, “And if I want to make it my problem?” His fingertips skimmed over Shawn’s jaw, his stare too piercing for comfort. “Talk to me, Shawn. Let me in.”

Words weren’t supposed to hurt this much. The sweet, concerned look on Sean’s face wasn’t meant to tear him up inside. None of that apparently mattered much. Shawn was frozen beneath his touch, trying to breathe past the crushing pain in his chest.

It would be so easy to break down under that weight, and give in to the almost plaintive look on Sean’s face. He wanted to bury his face against Sean’s shoulder and let the walls fall, let the pain of the last few years spill free. It was so tempting, so cruelly tempting…

Raising his eyes, Shawn met Sean’s gaze. His own eyes felt too wide, and his breathing too fast. With a little concerned, soothing noise, Sean stroked his thumb across Shawn’s cheek and commanded, “Michaels, relax. You’ll be hyperventilating in a minute if you don’t quit that.”

Shawn moved suddenly, forcing his arm up to lay his hand over Sean’s, stilling him. “Sean…” The soft word was just a hoarse, desperate whisper, but it seemed loud in the darkness.

Sean’s voice seemed oddly breathy as he murmured, “Yeah?”

“I…”

The words froze in his throat. For the first time in recent memory, Shawn was speechless. The moments ticked by, agonizingly slow, as he was paralyzed by the weight of Sean’s eyes and those damned dangerous, tempting words that he needed to say.

“I…” Closing his eyes, Shawn drew in a few deep breaths until his resolve came back. His hand closed around Sean’s wrist, and for a moment he almost pulled it closer for a kiss. Instead, he steeled himself and pulled it away. Forcing his eyes open, he managed to choke out words. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

He had to get away. That was the only thing he was sure of, that he had to leave before his control slipped again. Haste made him graceless as he moved back, nearly scrambling off the couch to get away from the warmth of Sean’s body pressed against his. It suddenly seemed overwhelming, too much, pushing aside every reason for not giving himself up as the liar he was. It was too easy to just ignore the risks. But even if he could survive losing Sean again, the kid deserved better. So much better…

Staring at him with wide eyes, Sean reached for him. “Shawn-“

Shawn cut him off, aimlessly rearranging his clothes to give his hands something to do as he babbled, “Listen, kid, it’s fine. Everything’s okay. I’m a father, I’m not on drugs, I can actually walk without pain, I’ve kept my foot out of my mouth for almost twenty-four hours, my son’s an angel and my wife’s a bitch, I missed you all and I really need sleep so I just gonna go now.”

“God damn it, Shawn, would you just stop talking for three seconds and look at me-“

Shawn complied, forcing a dazzling, empty smile on to his face as he turned to face Sean. The smile felt slightly desperate as he said, “I’m looking. Listen, kid, is your neck hurting or d’you think you can get upstairs by yourself? Because I really need to get some sleep or I’m gonna be useless tomorrow.”

For a long moment, Sean just looked at him in silence. Then, falling back against the cushions as if all his energy had abandoned him at that dismissal, he raked a hand through his hair and nodded. His voice sounded tired as he replied, “Sure. I’ll be okay.”

Pain twisted in Shawn’s stomach like a knife as he noticed the slight slump to Sean’s shoulders, the only sign that Shawn had hurt him that he was going to give. Shawn paused in the doorway, instinctively searching for the words that would cover everything up and make it better again. There were none.

Swallowing, he automatically reached for Sean with one hand. His voice sounded husky, betraying him as he murmured, “Night, kid.”

Sean didn’t look up. “Yeah. Night.”

Shawn let his hand drop and grasp the doorknob. Praying for a reprieve that wasn’t going to come, he hesitated for a moment longer, then sighed and slipped through the door. It shut with a click behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Sean let his head drop forward into his hands and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, choking back any tears that threatened. “Shit,” he muttered resentfully into his palms. The word was dangerously shaky.

Rising, he went to the window with a few angry, explosive strides that made his thighs ache in protest. It was too short of a trip, but his vision was blurry with frustrated tears as he reached the window. Pressing his palm to the cold window, he stared out and willed the tears away.

Shawn had let him sleep for three hours on his lap, without complaining. He had smiled at him, and touched him like he used to, before he started acting like he was afraid to touch him at all. There had been this look in his eyes before he had bolted, this terrified look that meant Sean had gotten too close for comfort. It hadn’t been a rejection, Shawn was just-

No. He was lying to himself.

A bitter smirk tilted up one side of his mouth even as the first tear spilled over, streaking down his cheek. He reached up and swiped at the trail with his palm, snarling at nothing. Closing his eyes again, he pressed his forehead against the soothingly cool glass. His face felt hot, and his throat lined with sandpaper as he muttered, “Stupid, Waltman.” A sound that was supposed to be a laugh but became a choked off sob tore its way out of his throat. “Really fucking stupid.”
---
The bedroom door made a hollow thump as Shawn slumped against it, letting the back of his head hit the door hard. It hurt, which made him feel slightly less hollow inside. Sliding down the door, he sat curled up with his knees to his chest on the floor and stared at the carpet, trying not to remember the wounded look on Sean’s face.

The kid would be fine. He had to be fine. He had survived neck surgery without painkillers and drug rehab without breaking, for Christ’s sake; this had to be a walk in the park. He had just been tired, still half-asleep and probably drunk. Sean had moved on, hook up with Hunter and Joanie or with some nice girl who could treat him like he deserved to be treated, and it would all work out.

Right. And it was ever so obvious how well he himself was moving on, after all. He had gotten married, for Christ’s sake, but he was still sitting here feeling hollow inside at the thought of Sean calling anyone else ‘baby’. That explained so well why he still cursed himself some nights, when his only sources of relief were his hand and his memories, for never letting Sean fuck him. Maybe that was some kind of blessing, really. If he had felt Sean inside him, it would have only made losing him worse. It was bad enough as it was.

Sean wanted him as a friend, as somebody to fall back on and someone who would trust him to be the same. Shawn couldn’t even give him that now. It would all too easy to keep falling.

Wiping a hand wearily across his face, Shawn struggled to his feet. The morning would be hell, but it would wait until he wasn’t so tired that the room seemed to spin if he moved too fast. A smirk, hard with disgust directed towards himself, twisted his lips; he had fulfilled his quota of hurting people he cared about, so it was time to go to bed. With a heavy sigh, he dropped on to the bed and leaned back.

Something underneath him moved slightly.

Alarmed, Shawn bolted upright and scrambled back, blindly grabbing for a weapon on the nightstand. The lump under his blankets stirred, revealing amber hair spilled over his pillow. Shawn relaxed slightly, smiling ruefully despite himself. Reaching out, he grabbed the lump’s shoulder and pulled the sheet back, shaking the lump gently. “Hunt,” he said quietly, “you’re in my bed. C’mon, you’ve got your own.” When there was no response, he sighed and brushed blond hair from Hunter’s face. “Wake-“

The feeling of wetness on his fingertips froze him mid-motion. Frowning, he leaned in close enough to see the wet tracks on Hunter’s face. “Christ,” he muttered, easing himself down to lay beside the younger man. More gently, he asked, “Hunter, what happened?”

Hunter mumbled something into the pillow, not raising his head. This had to be seriously bad. Of all the times he had himself torn Hunter down, hurt him with a hundred cruelties and watched him get hurt with a hundred more for being the only Kliq member who was low-ranking enough to be punished, he had only seen Hunter break down once or twice. Pressing a hand to Hunter’s hip, Shawn forced him to turn over. The sight of Hunter staring at the ceiling, eyes dark with emotions that Shawn couldn’t define, wasn’t much of an improvement. Stroking his stomach, Shawn tried again. “Hunt?”

“She won’t say it, Shawn.” Hunter’s voice was emotionless, dead. “I tried, but she still won’t say it. It’s been three fucking years, we’re about to get married, and I have no idea if she loves me.”

His voice wavered on the last word, and he cursed, turning his head away. For the first time Shawn noticed the empty liquor bottle that Hunter was still gripping by the neck as if for comfort. With a sigh, he reached across him and gently pried it loose, pushing it off the side. When Hunter made a half-hearted grab for it, Shawn grabbed his hand and held it. Now that he was looking for it, he could smell the alcohol on the younger man’s breath. “You’re gonna hate yourself for that in the morning.”

Hunter chuckled sourly, face still turned away. “Yeah, well, I’m not real fond of myself right now.”

“Tell me what happened.” It was a command, a fallback to the old days when he had known Hunter wasn’t going to protest. To his surprise, Hunter didn’t pull away; instead, he turned and curled up against his side, burying his face against the crook of Shawn’s throat. Hesitant, he tangled his fingers in Hunter’s hair, then began to stroke it back as Hunter didn’t protest the touch. They both needed this, the familiarity, the comfort of another body pressed close in the darkness.

He felt Hunter draw in a shuddering breath, and then the story came pouring out: the way he had touched her and tried to show her everything she meant to him, and her small, devastating hesitation when he had said that he loved her. Hunter’s voice never broke, but when he was finished, Shawn could feel the hot wetness of tears on his throat.

“I’m so sorry, kid.” The words were trite, and not nearly enough. To make up for it, Shawn pulled him closer, stroking his back. “You want to stay here tonight?”

Hunter nodded against his shoulder, not raising his head. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Shawn and burrowed in close like he was seeking protection. Impulsively kissing the top of his head, Shawn murmured fondly, “Stay, then. Get some sleep.”

Silence stretched on endlessly, broken only by the soft sound of breathing. The gnawing pain that had nagged him since he had seen Sean in the living room seeped back, no matter he tried to ignore it. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the biting pain in his throat and his chest. Damn it, he was not going to cry right now. He wasn’t.

“Shawn?” The sound of Hunter’s voice made him start out of his self-pity. “Why won’t she say that she loves me?”

It was obvious what Hunter thought the answer was. With a sigh, Shawn laid his cheek on the top of Hunter’s head and told him, “Just because she won’t say that she loves you doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you. Sometimes-“ His voice caught, and he had to pause for a moment before he could go on steadily, “Sometimes people just can’t say it, even though they need to, even though they’d kill to-“

Biting his lip against the urge to go on like that, Shawn drew in a few long breaths, then sighed and offered, “Maybe she’s afraid to.”

That made Hunter’s head snap up. Staring at Shawn, he asked almost plaintively, “What the hell is there to be afraid of?”

The laugh that tore out of Shawn’s throat was unexpectedly bitter, edged with tears. Laying his head back against the pillow, he said simply, “Everything.”
---
End.