Oak '03: The best laid Plans

The Past

"Wilmington!"

"Yes, Captain?"

Patrolman Wilmington looked up from the desk where he was filing his latest traffic report.

"My office."

Buck stood up with a knot in his stomach. He tried to think what it was he had done wrong. It was only eight A.M. he'd only been on duty for two hours, even by his standards that was fast to get into trouble, besides he hadn't done anything, had he? He did have a tendency to be impulsive, he knew that. But with the help of his partner he was learning to be a good cop - or at least he thought he was. He stood and without thinking about it, he checked his gun belt was sitting squarely on his hips, that his tie was done up, top button and cuffs all buttoned up and his hair was combed. Then, taking a deep breath and wishing Chris was there; he headed into the lion's den, trying to look confident.

"Have a seat, Wilmington." The Captain offered, nodding to the empty chair in front of the desk. The other cops called it the 'seat of doom'.

"Thank you, sir." Buck tried to sound relaxed and not as terrified as he felt.

Captain Delgardo was a shortish, balding man with dark eyes and an olive complexion; his features were soft and slightly rounded. But this genial looking man ruled the station house with a rod of iron. His desk was devoid of any clutter, no unattended files, no pending documents, no unread reports. The kind of discipline he imposed on himself he expected from his men. As a result, District Seven was the best in Denver. Which, considering their district contained some of the most impoverished areas of the city, was no mean achievement. Buck knew he didn't yet measure up, yet. He was still learning, and why not? He had only been out of the academy for a few months, he was a rookie.

"Well…" Delgardo looked up from behind his desk, "how do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, umm, well okay I reckon, I've made some mistakes, but I'm learning…sir." Buck all but squirmed in his seat.

The captain pulled a folder from his desk and flipped it open. "Yes, that's what Larabee says and Sergeant Hollis. On Friday your probation is up, I have to tell headquarters if you have a future as a police officer. I don't like to keep a man waiting so I'm here to tell you, that you have passed, when you come in next Monday, you'll no longer be on probation." Buck was somewhat amazed, he almost didn't register that the man in front of him had stood and was extending a hand. Hurriedly standing, he took the proffered hand.

"Yes sir, thank you, sir."

By the time he got back to the desk he was shaking his head, could it really have been six months already! It only seemed like yesterday he had walked into the squad room to face Delgardo for the first time and was introduced to his new partner - who looked young enough to be a rookie himself, one Chris Larabee.

Chris wasn't there to share the good news because he'd been called down to the motor pool. The Sergeant would rant about the damage to their black and white. It's wasn't much, just a bent back fender, the result of a having to swerve to avoid a car thief who had lost control of his stolen 4x4 and swung across the street. The slight impact with the curb was minor compared to what could have happened if Buck he hadn't got them out of the way. When the call came through Chris had taken it. He hadn't been driving, so it wasn't his fault, but despite Buck's protests, insisted he was the senior officer and would take the heat. Not there would be much, Chris might be young but he had a natural authority about him that transcended age.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

That Wilmington and Larabee were close wasn't unexpected, they were partners, they were of an age. What no one knew - could never know - was just how close they were. It had all started with a late night, very drunken kiss.

They had been on a double date with a pair of nurses, they had all had a good time and both men reckoned the night would 'go the distance', however their dates didn't. There had been a lot of drinking and some heavy kissing and fondling but no sex. So drunk and frustrated they had found themselves in Chris apartment. Sitting side by side they talked about girls and sex. Finally Buck had turned to Chris and said.

"God, you're beautiful." When Chris turned to look at him he saw no condemnation, no amusement, no anger, just puzzlement.

"Am I?"

"Oh, shit yes, a Greek God, Adonis." With that Buck had leant over and muttering something about 'good enough to eat', had kissed his new partner. He had been about halfway in to a really deep kiss when he had realised what he was doing and pulled back in fear and shock. "Oh, shit!" he gasped.

But Chris had just continued to stare at him, in bemused wonder. "Umm, that was unexpected," he commented. "Yes …well, mmm."

Buck had been too terrified to speak or even move, but as he watched Larabee's face he could see him thinking through his next move - which when it came was also unexpected. He leant across Buck and planted his own passionate kiss on the younger man.

That was how it started. So, here they now were, fuck buddies. Nothing serious, nothing permanent, just having fun together, occasionally - right? But even fuck buddies having fun had to be very careful. The probable consequences to their careers and even their health if they were ever found out, would in all likelihood be catastrophic, even fatal. Buck lived in a seedy motel, long since bypassed by a newer, faster road, where the cabins could be rented by the week, the day or the hour. The girls who did business there quickly realised Buck could be trusted, he spoke their language so he became a kind of big brother-come-body-guard-come-fuck-buddy to them. For if they were in need of some sweet loving of the gentle caring kind, the kind of loving they never got from their clients, who was he to say no? The trouble was some of the regular clients were cops and it would have been just their luck to be spotted by one.

Chris' apartment was close to the station house; the neighbourhood was poor but respectable. The tiny apartment was comfortable if compact, and the walls paper-thin. So, they had taken to hiking and camping when they had a weekend off. Early on a Saturday morning they would drive up into the foothills in Chris' pickup. Once the trail ran out, they'd leave the truck and hike up into the mountains to 'their' place, a tiny little lake fed by a hot spring, making the water pleasantly warm. It was so small and off the normal hiking routes on most maps it didn't even appear and it if did, it didn't have name. Even on a geological map, it was marked only as 'hot spring 551'. They had found it after much pouring over maps looking for a secluded spot, on their map it just looked like their might be a flatish bit of land there, so they were pleasantly surprised to find a small, clear, warm lake.

Buck had had same sex encounters before, while in college in Las Vegas, but it was a new experience for Chris. But Buck had to give him credit; he took to it like a duck to water.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

As he sat there waiting for Chris to come up from the motor pool Buck remembered their last trip to the lake. A happy, almost goofy smile spread over his face. If anyone noticed why would have put it down to the good news he had just received.

Six months was an anniversary that had to be marked, but how? He sat and thought for a while then slipped out to find the vending machine that dispensed candy. When Chris came back to the squad room the first thing he saw was Buck's huge grin.

"What?" he asked as he approached his partner.

Buck explained about his encounter with the Captain.

"Great news kid," Chris exclaimed, slapping him on the back.

"Ah, hell Chris, I ain't a kid, I'm only two years younger than you!"

"Thirty two months, but who's counting, kid!"

"I could go off you - you know?"

"Nah," Chris leant in closer to his young prodigy. "Who else is gonna let you fuck him in the wilderness?" he whispered.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, but nobody does it better," Buck whispered back with a wink then his voice returned to normal. "You need to read the report and countersign it," he announced.

Buck stood up and vacated the chair so Chris could use it. The buff folder was closed, when Chris opened it there, on top of the mundane traffic report, were five individually wrapped 'York Peppermint Patties' like five silver coins. Chris frowned; it wasn't common knowledge that he loved the little chocolate covered mint fondants.

"These yours?" he asked looking up at Wilmington.

"Nope, not mine." Buck was grinning from ear to ear.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

The next morning Chris opened his locker and then slammed it shut, looking around furtively, praying no one had see what was inside. Happy that the coast was clear he opened it again, there on the shelf were four small tubes of lube. They were standing on end, in a neat row, like so many soldiers at attention. These weren't full size tubes by any means, these were the tiny, one use, ones they used for the 'oh so fun task' of a full body search. That Wilmington was responsible he had no doubt, after all, who else would give him lube? And who else knew his locker combination?

**You'll make detective yet,** he mused smiling to himself.

It was clear his lover was sending him a message, but what? They had already discussed going up to the lake this coming weekend. Sex between them was definitely casual, they both still dated women and liked it, had in fact been on double dates and one very memorable night ended up in the same hotel room, all four of them! Neither was looking for a permanent attachment, they liked each other, they liked sex, why not join the two. And damn the sex was good! Buck sure knew how to take a guy to the stars.

"So what's with the little gifts?" Chris asked as they headed out on patrol.

Buck just smile and concentrated on his driving.

"It had better be you or I'm in big trouble."

Buck still didn't answer.

The next day Chris opened the locker to find three cherries sitting there. Buck had plucked his cherries, that was for sure. That was when it hit him. Five peppermints, four tubes of lube, three cherries - countdown, he was going to get a countdown! He all but did a happy little dance there in the locker room. **A Countdown! A Countdown! I'm gonna get a countdown,** he silently sang to himself in a happy little singsong voice.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Buck was sitting on a blanket, warm sun drying his naked form as he watched Chris swim, and as he watched, Chris stopped in the centre of the lake - which was fairly shallow - and stood. Sunlight glistened of the water around him, forming a halo, the water cascaded down his hard, whipcord thin body. As he stood, he raised his hands and raked them back though his short but thick, blond hair, the movement only serving to reveal more of his beautiful face and better display the wonderfully broad chest muscles. Water dropped from his hair onto this honey coloured shoulders like a shower of diamonds. As he waded through the water, more of his deliciously sensual body was revealed, Buck all but moaned as a proud erection, surrounded by water bejewelled golden curls, came into view.

Chris strode smoothly through the water and up onto the bank to drop in one fluid movement onto the blanket beside Buck. He leant over and kissed his young partner, softly, sensuously, letting the sensations build and then dissipate in their own time, finally he broke away an lay back, hands interlocked behind his head. Buck gazed down at him dreamily.

"Mmm, that was nice," he murmured, still gazing at the glory that was Chris.

"Gonna help a guy out here?" Chris asked.

A lecherous look came over Buck. "Well, sure buddy, ever heard of the 'Countdown'?" "You know damn well I haven't, but somehow I get the feeling I'm about to."

Buck just smiled as he grasped Chris' cock near the top, and maintaining a nice even pressure, enough to stimulate but not hurt or bring Chris off too soon, he pulled his hand down to the base. Chris expected him to bring the hand back up, but he didn't, he let go and took his hand back to the top, repeating the downward stroke. He did this nine times, satisfied by the dreamy look on Chris face. At the bottom if the ninth stroke he did come back up with a barely noticeable increase in speed and pressure. At the top of the now rock hard cock, he took his hand off returning back to the bottom for another up stroke. There were eight up strokes before he changed direction again, seven down stroked followed. By now Chris' cock was flushed and pulsing under the expert ministration. Seven down were followed by six up, now pre-cum was leaking freely and Chris was squirming.

"Harder!" he demanded, "Oh, Christ! Oh shit… oh …oh God! More, please."

"Patience, this can't be rushed," Buck counselled as the five down were followed by four up. "Just hold on a little longer."

"I can't!" Chris shouted.

"Sure you can, count with me." Buck had now reached the last of the four up strokes, he tightened his hand again for a down stroke. "One." Chris joined him, his voice quivering and hesitant as his writhed under Buck's hand. "Two …Three." Now at the base the pressure was increased again. "Counting up. One…"

"No, Buck, I can't…"

"Yes, you can. Two…" Buck was at the top he once more increased the pressure, feeling the raw power coursing under his hand, and revelling in the power he had - however briefly - over his lover. "One!" And with that last, hard pull down, Chris came. A huge long powerful jet that dappled his abdomen and chest, as well as Buck's hand and the blanket they lay on. Chris slumped back on to the blanket, every bone in his body turned to Jell-O, eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead, breath coming in short uneven pants, his whole body trembling.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Buck continued to deny any knowledge of the gifts. On Thursday, Chris opened his locker and his heart fell - no gift. He walked around to Buck's locker two rows down but his partner had already left. In the shift briefing Buck had kept his eyes on the Sergeant and refused to look Chris in the eye. Feeling more disappointed than he would have given himself credit for, Chris followed a jaunty looking Wilmington to their car. As usual Buck moved to the driver's side and Chris got ready to take his seat on the passenger side.

"Careful where you sit," Buck warned. Larabee looked down, there on his seat were two packs of M&M's

"The may melt in your mouth and not in your hand, but they don't like to be squished you know?" Buck warned with a wink as he gunned the engine.

Chris removed the candy and sat down. "No, I wouldn't ever squish them, suck, that is what you need to do with M&M's give them a good, long, sweet suck." "Oh, really, you don't think they need a little licking first?"

"Yes, perhaps, to start with, but you don't get the full effect unless you slip one in your hot mouth for a good, long suck. You suck until the shell bursts and all that sweet melted chocolate flows out."

"And how does this chocolate taste?" Buck was finding concentrating on the road difficult and was thankful it was still early and the traffic was light.

"Like honey, like fine whisky, like strawberries and cream, like vanilla ice cream and toffee," Chris was all but purring now. Then he suddenly shouted. "Watch it!"

Buck slammed on the brakes just in time to prevent the heavy patrol car ramming the innocent little Honda in front of them.

"Maybe we should save these for later," Chris suggested once they were rolling again, as he slipped the packets of candy into his pocket.

"Good idea, much later."

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Friday came, though as far as Chris was concerned it took way too long to come as his anticipation rose. He opened his locker to find a note taped to the shelf. It read -

'I'LL PICK YOU UP AT 3,
DRESS TO RIDE, WE'LL BE AWAY
TWO NIGHTS. I'VE GOT THE FOOD
- AMONG OTHER THINGS!
B'

Riding, he smiled at the thought, they had talked about hiring a couple of horses and riding up to the lake rather than hiking, especially now that summer had come. On horseback they could reach the little hot spring before dusk, something they couldn't do on foot. Leaving on Friday afternoon meant they would get an extra half day or more, once they arrived, an extra half-day to swim, drink, eat, ride and fuck. What more could a man what at the weekend?

As it turned out a man needed someone to share the swimming, drinking, eating, riding and fucking - especially the fucking. They had been out on patrol for about two hours when a call came over the radio ordering them to report back to the station. As soon as they walked into the squad room, the captain called Chris into his office. As Buck watched through the glass walls, Chris met with another man who he recognised as a detective but didn't know. They were in the office for nearly half an hour. By know Buck knew his partner's body language well enough to know he was not happy with whatever was going on. Eventually Chris exited the small office slamming the door behind him, clearly untroubled by the disapproval his display of temper would engender.

"What's up?" Buck asked quietly. "Fuck!" Chris ground out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What?"

"Last year, before you came here, we had this night from hell," Chris began.

"Yeah? Well we've had a few of them, so?"

Chris shook his head. "No, not like this, we had twenty four liquor stores hit in one night. They were all hit by youngsters, all very organised and all armed. Two owners killed, six wounded, one had a heart attack, one went in to labour and lost her baby."

"Shit!"

"Yeah, that about sums it up. Anyway the detectives traced it to a guy calling himself Fagin."

"Oh, very original."

Chris just snorted. "We almost caught him, almost. I was driving past with my old partner."

Buck knew that Chris' old partner was a veteran beat cop called Stan, he and Chris had been together ever since Chris was a rookie. He also knew Stan took early retirement just before he arrived.

"We were called to help, they were in pursuit of 'Fagin' on foot and needed more men," Chris explained. "So we joined in. Stan was a great cop but he wasn't as young as me or as fit, so I got ahead of him. I saw this man running, he was fast but I was faster, I got him, but then I heard Stan cry out." Chris shrugged almost apologetically. "I lost my grip on him, but I couldn't go after him 'cause I had to go back to Stan."

"Was he okay – Stan, I mean?"

"He'd had a heart attack, that's why he retired, but he's okay - well last time I heard from him he was. Anyway this guy - Fagin - his real name's Dawson and he's back in town. They're…" He indicated the office with his head. "…gonna set up a stake out at his girlfriend's place."

"And? So?" Buck prompted.

"I gotta go too, seeing as there's only three of us who've seen him up close, close enough to identify him anyway. Twelve hours on, twelve hours off, starting at seven this evening."

"What!" Buck spluttered slightly too loudly.

"Hush, will you," Chris warned. "I know, I tried to get out of it, believe me I tried."

"I'll hardly see you," Buck whispered, his head hanging down low.

"Yeah, I know. You'd better cancel the horses."

"Fuck!"

"I said that."

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Chris was given the rest of the day off, but not Buck, who was stuck with partnering Sergeant Johnson, a man who lived, ate, and breathed the rule book, he would have stayed, but that would have been hard to explain.

Once his shift was over Buck drove his twenty year old pick-up straight to Chris' were they snatched a mere half hour of kissing and a quick blow job. Chris stole one last kiss, before he whispered into Buck's ear.

"Who knows, the bastard might turn up tonight."

"I ain't got no plans this weekend."

"Gonna wait by the phone for my call?"

"You bet."

Chris finally headed back to work and Buck headed home. He walked in to his end row cabin at the motel and dejectedly dropped his keys on the table. He stared miserably at his holdall, packed and ready for the trip. He wandered to the fridge and took out a beer, he had plenty after all, enough for two people for a whole weekend, not to mention, tortillas, tins of chilli and hotdogs, bread, peanut butter and snacks. As he slumped down on the sofa he couldn't believe how miserable he was, not at missing the weekend camping out and riding - he could still go if he wanted, not at missing the sex - if he wanted sex he could have it, that was never a problem for him. No, he was miserable because he wasn't going to be with Chris. He was going to miss just laying next to him under the stars, talking into the night, putting the world to rights, joking, making outrageous claims about their past sexual conquests. Buck backhanded a lone tear away as he took a long pull on his beer. When, he wondered, had his friendship become something more to him? Why had one weekend, or rather missing out on one weekend, become so important to him? He'd always shied away from long term relationships, he'd been burnt more than once and wasn't keen to be betrayed or abandoned again. But there was something about the long, lean blond that had penetrated his defenses.

**Not that it means that much to him of course, just so long as he gets a good fucking, well I can do that, I'm good at that, you never know, one day, maybe…**

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Chris sat down by the window on the most amazingly uncomfortable folding chair he had ever come across and gazed across the street at the very ordinary house. The police had been lucky that the house opposite and one down from the home of one Dannie Hawthorne, was empty - totally empty. There was not a stick of furniture in the place, no fridge, no chairs, there wasn't even a seat on the john. The power was connected but since the house was meant to be unoccupied they couldn't even switch on a light - which made for some interesting trips to the bathroom in the night.

**Fucking bastard! Why'd he have to come home now? Couldn't wait 'till Monday could he, oh no! Had to come and fuck up my weekend didn't he!** Chris silently fumed. **Shit! I could be under the stars, beside a hot spring getting fucked into the ground right now, but no! I'm sitting in a chair that's gonna cripple me, waiting for some scuz ball to come home and give his girlfriend one. Well I wanna give my boyfriend one …boyfriend? Where the hell had that come from? Buck isn't my boyfriend is he? No, he's a fuck buddy. He has his women. Just how the hell does one man get so many women anyway? ** he mused. **This is just not fair! Fuck! I wanna be with Buck, I do not want to be here - great, I sound like a five year old!**

Chris was sharing the duty with Detective George, a man he had never met and had little in common with. He passed his time gazing down the street thinking about Buck; even when he tried to think about something else, he ended up thinking about the tall, dark haired rookie with the midnight blue eyes. And as he sat in the dark and watched the empty street, he came to and understanding, a revelation.

**Well I may be just a friend and a fuck buddy to him, but he's more to me, so much more, I don't know if he will ever find out, if I can ever tell him. It's not even as if we could ever be together permanently, not and keep our jobs. So I'll just go on loving him in my own way, for as long as I can.**

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Luck was with Chris, it was six in the morning, he and the ever dull George were due to be relieved in an hour when a car rolled up to the house opposite. Dannie Hawthorne came out of the house and got into the car, she was dressed with all the sophistication and modesty of a ten dollar street hooker. Chris grabbed the radio and had a tail put out on the car. Even before their relief had arrived, they received a call saying the car had led them to 'Fagin'.

It took a good three hours to write reports, formally identify Dawson and get him processed. Chris had called Buck twice but received no reply. He wasn't overly worried, it was early and Buck liked to sleep late on a day off. When he got no response to this third call, made from his own apartment after he showered, he began to worry, and then to get annoyed.

**So much for waiting by the phone for me. Bet he's with some woman, damn man can't even wait one day!**

Chris had been up all night, so, since Buck wasn't answering, he decided to lay down for a few hours. Some five hours later he woke up, cursing he had slept so long. Once more he called Buck and once more there was no response. Curiosity and anger fuelled his drive to the city outskirts and on to the Heaven Rest Motel - Buck always said it sounded like a funeral home. It was now mid afternoon and the place was beginning to wake up, it didn't really come alive until late at night. As he rolled down the hill to the end of the row cabin he spotted Buck's old, rusty yellow truck. Parking his own pick-up next to his partners he knocked on the door. There was no response. He knocked again - no answer. He pounded on the door, if Buck was bedding some working girl he was damn well gonna get him up! But there was no answer. Chris spun around in anger, surveying the line of shabby cabins.

**So where the hell are you, you slut?** he asked himself. Just as he was contemplating banging on every single door, despite no evidence that Buck was in anyone of them, he saw a girl walking towards him. She was wearing skin-tight jeans, and a crop top of fluorescent pink, she was heavily made up, even though she was young and pretty and didn't need make up. She was clearly nervous, but was putting on a front of confidence.

"You looking for someone?" she asked, with false casualness.

"Possibly, why do you ask?" "Well, the person who lives there, they don't 'work' if you get me?"

**Damn glad to hear it!** "I know, he's a friend of mine, do you know where he is?"

The false confidence melted from the girl's face and she smiled with relief. "Oh thank God, we didn't know who to call. Buck's in the hospital."

"What?" Chris suddenly turned to face the girl more fully, grabbing her shoulders.

The look of pure fear and pain that clouded the girls face made him freeze, he could now see the reason for the makeup, under it was evidence of a black eye, possible other bruises. As quickly as he had grabbed her, he released her.

"I'm sorry, tell me what happened." Her name was, or at least she called herself, Cat, she had a client the previous night, a very large man who wanted to get rough. Cat had tried to get out, she had tried to tell him 'no' but he wouldn't listen.

"Jinny went and got Buck, he's a good guy Buck; you can trust him."

Chris had to agree with that. "He came in and pulled the man off me." Her hand fluttered to her injured eye. "Then he pulled him outside, Buck's big, this guy was bigger," she explained. "but he was doing okay 'til…."

"What?" Until what?" Chris prompted urgently.

"He had a friend, in a car, out here waiting for him, they both started to hit him. I tried to stop it, I told the guy he could have me, but they wouldn't stop, then one of them hit Buck on the head and he just sort of crumpled. Jinny starts shouting 'he's a cop, he's a fucking cop and you killed him!' Guess it scared them off, 'cause they ran away."

"Where's Buck now?" Chris demanded.

"St. John's Hospital."

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

Chris had to do some fast-talking to at the hospital to get information on Buck. Eventually he managed to track down his partner's doctor.

"He's got a concussion, cracked ribs, bruised kidneys and a lot of cuts and bruises. I'd release him today if there were going to be someone at home with him. The concussion isn't that bad but he could still have blackouts, besides he's going to be very stiff and sore for a few days yet."

"I'm his partner, I'll make sure he's not alone. Can I see him?"

"Sure, this way."

Buck was asleep, curled protectively around his damaged ribs. Chris approached quietly, relived to find that the damage to that wonderfully handsome face wasn't too serious, a cut lip, grazed cheek, a cut to the side of his eye closed with butterfly strips. His knuckles were cut and swollen, clearly he'd given as well as received. Chris smiled as he looked down. His young partner was very easy going, slow to anger, but threaten a woman or a kid and he was a tiger. Sitting down on the hard plastic chair beside the bed, he waited for the man he loved to awaken. One hour became two, and then three and eventually four. Chris was about to nod of himself when he saw and heard the man on the bed stir.

"Hello," Larabee greeted.

Buck blinked owlishly at him, pain creased his brow as he came to full consciousness.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Chris promised.

DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD~DPD

The Present

Chris lay down behind his injured partner, he wrapped his arms protectively around his lover. One hand lay gently across the broad chest, taking comfort in the regular rise and fall. It wasn't a serious injury, Buck had had worse, but the infection had taken a lot out of his lover, leaving him weak as a kitten.

"We wasted so many years didn't we?" he whispered, knowing Buck was sleeping. "We could have had this back then, if either of us had ever had the courage to speak out and admit how we truly felt. It was different back then, a different time, practically a different place. I'm not going to give you up now, not ever my love. You know when you wake up I'm gonna have to get you to tell me what that last present was going to be, I never did get it. I did get another 'countdown' maybe I'll give you one, when you're up to it. Would you like that my love? And when you're fit again we'll go up to the lake, we haven't been there since was got back together. It's still our place, we'll keep it secret, just for us."

Buck murmured contentedly in his sleep, relaxing back, unconsciously seeking greater contact with Chris, taking comfort and security from the touch and sound of his lover.

End