It was several weeks later and it seemed that all of their dangers had passed. But Tony was growing more and more restless as time went by. Bruce would pop in from time to time, just to check on everyone. Each time that he did, he and Tony just could not see eye to eye. And of all the time that Tony and Greg had spent with each other, it appeared that Jonathan was the only one that could calm him down.
"Tony..." Jonathan pressed his body against him that morning just before Greg was to go to work. He slipped his arm around the man distracting him for a moment. "Why don't you and I go upstairs for awhile?" His gentle soft plea washed over the man, who curled an arm around him.
"Go on, Tony..." Bruce tried to calm his own wrath of the moment, as he stood at the table. "...I'll be leaving soon anyway. I've gotta go pick up this load." He grumbled impatiently.
"Bruce, I..." the man attempted to apologize for the umpteenth time.
Bruce held up a hand silencing him right away. "I understand, Tony. You're wound up like a rubber band, friend. I'll be so glad when this is all over, so we can get back to life as usual." He then hugged Greg to him consoling his aching heart of the moment.
"I'm sorry, Greg." Tony muttered, and then allowed Jonathan to lead him away.
In the bedroom, Jonathan led him to the bed. Urging him to sit, he knelt down removing the man's shoes.
"I won't sleep, Jonathan." He argued gently. "I can't."
"You have to, Tony. Sometime, you have to go to sleep." He continued with his labor of love until the second shoe was removed.
"What if something happens?"
"We're fine, Tony. Nothing has happened in weeks." Jonathan insisted.
"That's the point, Jonathan. He's out there, I just know it."
"But we haven't even seen a sign of any of them." The youth stood looking down into his face.
"He's there, Jonathan. Mark my word. He's watching us. He knows where we are."
Jonathan sighed heavily. This was affecting Tony in a very profound way. He wasn't sleeping. He had hardly eaten anything. His temper had escalated to a point of uncontrolled fury. The dark circles under his eyes told the entire story, really.
"Lay back, Tony. Please..." Jonathan placed his hands on his shoulders urging him to lie down. "What if you take some Tylenol PM. Would that help?"
"No drugs, Jonathan. I can't take anything." The man bolted back up again.
"Fine, just lie down, damn it..." Jonathan groaned sternly. "I'll go down and get you some coffee. You just rest for a minute." He moved slowly to the door as he spoke.
"Black, Jonathan. No milk or sugar." The man turned propping on his elbow toward him to say.
"Okay..." he studied the man long, before he moved out into the hallway. Rushing down the stairs, he went past Greg and Bruce to the kitchen.
"What now..." Greg barked at him sensing something was amiss.
"We got any Tylenol PM?" Jonathan asked opening the medicine cabinet.
"Yeah, why?" Greg pried himself from Bruce slowly, stepping into the kitchen with him.
"Help me fix Tony a cup of coffee and dissolve one in it." He proposed.
"You shouldn't do that, Jonathan. What if he's allergic?" Greg fussed.
"He needs to sleep, Greg. That's why he's so pent up." The youth turned to him barking.
"Everyone needs to just settle down. This is ridiculous." Bruce chided.
"This is exactly what Uncle James wants. For all of us to be at each other's throats." The youth suggested. "He's probably hopin' we'll all kill each other, so he won't have to."
Bruce chuckled. "Well, he's doing an excellent job of it."
"I agree..." Greg voiced seriously. "Here, Jonathan..." he gave the youth the bottle of pills. "...But don't give him more than one. These are in capsule form, so you can just break it apart and dissolve it in the coffee."
"Good..." Jonathan snatched it from his hand excitedly, going to the counter near the coffeepot. And quickly he had it ready, the entire contents of the capsule liquefied.
"He'll know, Jonathan..." Greg piped, as the youth started up the stairs.
"Now, why would you say that?" the kid turned to look at him.
"You should take a cup for yourself. And don't get 'em mixed up." Bruce suggested.
"Yeah..." he went back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup. He mixed the half-n-half and sugar in his, considering that was how he liked it. And he would know which was whose. Quickly he went up the stairs feeling he had been gone much too long.
"Here you go..." he grinned sweetly at the man, as he made his way to the bed.
"Oh, you got you some too." Tony smiled.
"Of course..." Jonathan sat on the edge near him.
"Thanks, babe. I appreciate it." Tony sat up taking the cup. He sipped it grimacing a bit. "It's bitter as hell..." he fussed.
"Sorry, I guess I shoulda made a fresh pot." The youth mumbled.
"It's okay. It's the thought that counts." The man smiled taking another sip. "Oooh..." he shuddered visibly. "It bites..."
Jonathan giggled. "You want me to make you a new pot?"
"No, kid. This is fine. It should kick my ass and wake me up some, the way it tastes."
"I hope so..." the youth began to drink his leisurely.
"I'll just drink it down and maybe I'll feel better."
"You do that, and I'll get you a fresh cup after." Jonathan proposed.
The man nodded putting the cup to his lips. He swallowed time and time again until it was gone. "Woooow..." he quivered shaking his head as he did.
Jonathan laughed setting his cup on the nightstand. "I'll go get you another. And I'll even make a fresh pot for ya." He said, as he stood.
"I don't deserve you, Jonathan." The man's eyes filled instantly. "You're such a sweet, sweet boy."
"I try. And yes, you do deserve me." The youth leaned to him planting his lips to the man's. Tony moaned softly opening to him instinctively. Embracing him, he pulled him down with him, engaging him in a full kiss.
