Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback, I really appreciate it -- however, I write like a snail, so I'm pretty shocking with the updates, sorry : /
NB: Fictitious story with fictitious people and situations, always use protection, blah blah blah
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Deacon fastened the final button on his shirt and grabbed his name badge off the dresser, knocking over a picture frame with a sharp clatter. Biting his lip, Deacon glanced over at the bed and saw no movement. He checked himself in the mirror, attached the badge and crept towards the door, banged his knee on the edge of the bed and cursed softly. Grasping the door handle, Deacon winced as the tumbler squeaked in protest.
"You're not very good at being sleuthy," a muffled voice remarked from behind him. Smiling, Deacon let go of the door and looked over to the bed, where Mark was still laying prone, his face buried in the pillows.
"Sorry. It's early, I was trying not to wake you," Deacon explained. Mark raised his head from the pillow and squinted at the bedside clock.
"Mmm...yeah," Mark mumbled. He rolled over on the bed and stretched. "Take a piss for me too, wouldja? I'll keep your side warm," he added with a sleepy grin.
"Thanks, but I'm already dressed," Deacon said. Mark opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. He saw the name badge on Deacon's work shirt and raised his eyebrows.
"Well, I know it hasn't been three weeks already," Mark said slowly, "so unless this is some kind of weird sex role play thing, then I'm confused." Deacon laughed and walked over to the bed.
"Sam called from work a little while ago," Deacon said. "The server went down yesterday, Hale has gone to Portland for a funeral and nobody there knows how to reboot the system except me. So, I'm going in for a bit to show them how." Deacon crouched down beside the bed and bit his lip.
"Hmm. Shit," Mark replied, a small frown on his face. "What am I supposed to do with this then?" Mark asked, nodding to the tenting sheet at his crotch. Deacon looked across and chuckled when he saw Mark's morning glory.
"Do what you did before we started this," Deacon said, making a loose fist with his hand and moving it up and down an invisible shaft. Deacon laughed at Mark's indignant face, and kissed him briefly. "Or save it for me, for later," Deacon added in a low voice, his eyes burning into Mark's. Mark swallowed with difficulty, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, you save it for me," Deacon grinned knowingly and nodded, the pair holding each other's gaze steadily. Mark rolled himself onto one elbow facing Deacon. "Save it for me. Just for me," Deacon murmured and leaned into Mark, their lips meeting softly.
Deacon smiled into the kiss, pleasantly surprised at how naturally this new aspect of their relationship was merging with their friendship - although something at the back of his mind told him their easy intimacy with one another would be trouble later. A low moan rumbled out of Mark's throat as he felt Deacon's tongue at his lips. Mark parted his mouth and sucked Deacon's tongue inside, gripping his lover's shoulder as he savoured the taste of the warm, wet kiss.
"Mmm," Deacon mumbled, moving his lips to taste Mark's jaw and neck before pulling back. "I said I'd be there by nine."
"That's twenty minutes from now," Mark said, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on Deacon's shirt. The blonde boy grinned and closed his hand over Mark's.
"One hour, I swear. I'll be back before you know it," Deacon said. He kissed Mark firmly and stood up, his hand still grasping Mark's. "Go back to sleep and have a nasty dream about me, and then I'll be back and we can do whatever it was that you dreamt about." Mark huffed a laugh and flopped back down on the bed. Deacon squeezed Mark's hand and let it go. He walked over to the door and glanced back at his lover.
"Fuck off then," Mark said playfully. "And get some milk." Deacon smiled and nodded. He kissed his fingers and held his hand out in a wave to Mark, who rolled his eyes. But he was grinning as he put his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes.
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"Thanks for coming in Deac," Sam, the acting manager said as he spotted Deacon come through the store front. "I know its your vacation, but..." Sam shrugged.
"It's okay man, these things happen," Deacon replied with a friendly smile, noticing dark circles under Sam's eyes. "It's pretty easy, but only after you know how to do it." Sam laughed and led the way into the back of the store to the main computer terminal and pulled up an extra chair to the screen. "Where is everybody?"
"Charly went home a half hour ago, and Scott...he's in the mall somewhere," Sam answered with a shrug. Deacon raised his eyebrows at Sam, who chuckled and shook his head. "Don't give me that look, man. It's a slow day, the boss is away."
"You're too good to them," Deacon said as sat down next to Sam and started working on the problem, explaining each thing he did to Sam along the way. After a while, they had nothing to do but wait for the server to scan all the internal files. Sam let out a long breath and slouched back in his chair, his eyes closed.
"Tired?" Deacon asked. Sam shrugged and nodded.
"Long night. Family stuff," Sam replied curtly. He didn't elaborate, and Deacon knew he wouldn't, even if asked directly.
Deacon stole a surreptitious glance at the guy sitting next to him. He had dark brown hair, though you could hardly tell, as he sported a shaved head. Both ears had earrings in them the size of quarters, the hollow middles creating gaping holes in his earlobes. Masses of dark tattoos could only just be seen through the thin white fabric of his shirt, and the studs in his eyebrow and lip were made of clear plastic. Deacon hadn't understood why Hale had given the kid a job in the first place, with his appearance the way it was, and no previous experience to speak of, but however he had landed the job, Sam had proven to be a fast learner and a hard worker, and he and Deacon had become fast friends.
The kid had high cheekbones and a wide jaw, and although he was just shy of seventeen, the lines around his mouth and the large burn scar stretching down his neck and underneath his shirt collar made him look older than he was. Deacon had been curious about the burn since the first time he had met Sam six months ago, but after getting to know him, Deacon knew that Sam would only open up if he felt like it; otherwise, he was like a closed book.
