Warning: This story is rated (R) for non-graphic erotic content (ie, boys making out).

***

"There must have been a reason we first got together..." His ears picked up the words before he even made it inside, the voice he would know anywhere drifting through glass doors that had been propped open to the early autumn air. Cam was singing.

Traffic had been terrible. That was the story and he was sticking to it. He had convinced himself that really, Cam wouldn't even be here. If Cam didn't show, it wouldn't matter how late Hunter was. But he had to come, just in case. If Cam did show, he'd catch hell for his own absence later.

Apparently Cam had not only shown up, but had gotten up in front of the mike alone. It was a campus coffeehouse, an informal affair and the kind of thing that Hunter usually enjoyed. The two of them had something of a following by now. He liked seeing the same people again and again, performers and audience members alike. He and Cam might actually have been missed if they had blown it off--not that Cam would ever have done something so irresponsible.

"It's hard to see it now," Cam's voice mused, settling around him as he hesitated just inside the entrance to the common room. "Cause it's easier to think of what went wrong..."

No, he hadn't expected Cam to just blow off tonight's engagement. He had expected Cam to call someone involved and notify them that he and Hunter would not be performing. He had expected Cam to leave him a message, dialing his voice mail directly so that his phone wouldn't even ring, informing Hunter that he had canceled. He had expected Cam to do anything but be here tonight.

"I could keep pointing fingers," Cam offered, eyes down as though he wasn't really seeing the room at all. He probably wasn't, Hunter thought distantly. Cam wasn't really about crowd contact while he was performing. That was usually his role. "I could stay mad as hell..."

The room's overhead lights were off, and Christmas tree lights strung up around the edge of the room provided the only illumination. It was more than enough to see by while still lending an air of anonymity to the shadows--something that he took full advantage of. He wasn't sure he wanted to be noticed right now. Did Cam even want him here?

"I could let my anger linger..."

He was really, really trying not to read anything into Cam's choice of song. He'd never even heard this song before. The words were getting to him, poking at his conscience, stirring up guilt that he didn't want to deal with right now. Had Cam expected him to show up? Had he waited before going on?

"As far as I can tell," Cam was telling the floor, "I've got to let it go if I want to move on..."

Did he have to have such a good voice? It wasn't enough that the man was a technical genius and a fantastic guitar player, he had to have a good singing voice on top of it all. Hunter would never admit to the smallest amount of envy when it came to Cam's multiple talents--not aloud, anyway. But sometimes he did wish Cam would sing more. He rarely did it when they were together, preferring instead to play backup for Hunter.

"So I think about how you made me laugh--"

"Hey, Hunter." Another voice interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced sideways to see Rascha leaning back against the doorframe he'd just come through. "How's it going, man?"

"Hey." His reply was absent, but he didn't mind giving the impression that he had more important things to worry about right now. "What's up, Rascha."

"Never heard you guys sing alone before." Rascha's nod toward the mike left no doubt about who he meant, no matter what his words said. "You sound good."

Hunter gave him an odd look. He thought, after a moment, that maybe it wouldn't have seemed so strange if everything had been normal. He was used to taking pride in Cam's abilities, and he knew that Cam had taken compliments on his behalf in the moto world. But after the last few days, it was disturbing to hear someone tell him that Cam sounded good without him.

He decided not to answer. If there was anyone in this room he needed to talk to, it was the person in front of the mike. He knew that anything he'd had to say should have been said before tonight, but really--he wasn't the only one with a problem here. He could have called Cam. Cam could have called him just as easily.

"It seems I paint you now in colors of forgiveness," Cam sang softly, and no matter what he told himself, the words made Hunter's skin tingle. "I lost the pain somehow and in its place there is this part of me that sees you in the light I saw you in before..."

Which light was that, Hunter wondered? And why was he taking this song seriously? Where had Cam gotten it from, anyway? He had never sung it where Hunter could hear. But apparently there were a lot of things that Cam had never shared. There was a constant string of surprises, just when he was getting used to the idea of knowing the guy so well.

"So I think about how you made me laugh--" In a good way, or a bad way? With Cam, it could go either way. "And I think about how you made me cry... forget about who's to blame...

"It's a choice I've had to make," Cam concluded, eyes still downcast even when he lifted his face. "So I'll think of you that way..."

The words trailed off, and Hunter found himself watching so intently that he almost forgot to clap. His applause was belated at best. He was afraid it also came across as uncertain, since he wasn't entirely sure what to make of the situation. He was late. Cam was singing. Should he stay or go?

Rascha solved the problem for him by calling out to one of his buddies, effectively capturing Cam's attention and transferring it to Hunter. Caught by that dark gaze, Hunter could only offer an apologetic shrug. It was pretty much his answer to anything Cam might be wondering: their recent past, his tardiness, his presence at the coffeehouse in the first place. He didn't have anything more concrete to offer.

Cam cocked his head toward the second mike. Hunter knew a silent invite when he saw one, and his feet were responding before his brain could get in the way. He found himself walking toward the front of the room, making his way to Cam's side... unintentionally shouldering Cam out of the spotlight, such as it was.

Cam didn't say a word. He stepped out of the way, strumming a couple of idle chords that suggested "I Want To Talk About Me," and Hunter shook his head as soon as he recognized it. He reached out to cover the nearest microphone with one hand, tilting it away from them as he spoke.

"Sorry I'm late," he offered, careful to keep his voice low. He felt like he should say something else, but he didn't know what.

Cam just shrugged, not taking his eyes off of his guitar. "Glad you came," he answered, almost too quietly to hear. And that was all he said.

Hunter studied him for a moment. "Wanna do 'Chrome'?" he suggested at last. Cam liked "Chrome," because Hunter refused to sing the chorus and that meant repeated guitar solos.

Cam did glance up at that, gaze meeting Hunter's with a small smile. He just nodded, stepping back to fool around with his guitar while Hunter introduced the song. The smile was enough to make Hunter relax a little, and his practiced ease wasn't entirely for show when he uncovered the mike and addressed the room for the first time.

"You ever notice how hard it is to park on this campus?" he inquired, scanning the people assembled without trying to register their faces. He either knew them or he didn't, and he wouldn't treat them any differently. "I could have left my truck at home and walked here in the time it took me to park."

There were scattered chuckles, and he saw a few more people entering at the back of the room. "See," he said, pointing to call attention to them. "We've got people later than I am. God forbid someone ever needs an ambulance around here... don't get sick, 'cause you'll have to wheel your own stretcher to the nearest parking lot."

He turned to Cam without waiting for a response to that, and got a nod in return. "So we're gonna do an old Trace Adkins song, now... a little different, maybe, to make it a little more us. You'll know it when you hear it."

All their songs were covers, really, but they weren't trying to make money at it and people seemed to like it. He didn't see anything wrong with changing the words to make them fit better. He was still waiting for the day when Cam would turn around and prove that he had song-writing talent on top of everything else.

In the meantime, the guitar was gearing up for the intro and Hunter didn't have to feign the grin that spread across his face. He liked this song, too. He had changed the words for Cam over the summer, embarrassing him in front of an audience, and had been surprised when Cam just smiled along with everyone else. He had heard about it later, of course, but Cam had never told him not to use the new version... so he had. Ever since.

"Chrome," Hunter drawled, taking his cue for the beginning of the song. "You can see yourself in the shiny grill and the wire wheels of a red Chevelle, with four on the floor and the top down."

A girl threw herself down on one of the couches in front, settling over top of several of her friends and evoking a round of giggles and complaints. Hunter's attention focused on them and they noticed immediately. He didn't recognize any of them on casual inspection, but that didn't mean he couldn't get their attention.

"Chrome," he repeated, smirking a little at their sudden rapt silence. "Zipping by on an Electra Glide with dual tailpipes doing 105 in the broad daylight, on a two-lane... heading out of town."

Cam took over for a minute, and Hunter let his gaze slide away from the girls to investigate the rest of the room. Theoretically, everyone's attention was on Cam now, and while he knew that wasn't true it did give him an excuse to scan the rest of the audience. He wasn't bad with faces, but the number of people he met on campus with no moto gear to distinguish them made memorization an endless task.

He saw Rascha talking with Lucy in the back, maybe arguing over their set list. There were a few of Cam's students listening, several people who he suspected were coffeehouse groupies, and more that he probably wouldn't be able to identify even in normal lighting. He did manage to pick out Amanda the oboe player and Ryan the student senator. Otherwise, people he had been introduced to in the past were either absent or hiding.

It was easy enough to listen while he wondered, and his entrance was unmistakable when Cam wandered back into familiar chord progressions. "Chrome," Hunter declared, gaze sliding across the girls in the front to settle on Cam for a moment. "Got a look in his eyes, standing by the fastest bike on the track--"

Cam didn't look up, but Hunter would have sworn he saw a smile tugging at that focused expression. "Aluminum plates on a 250cc, number eleven... Chrome. I said, 'hey, college boy, you sure look fine. You wanna ride?"

Cam lifted his head, rolling his eyes heavenward even as he completely failed to suppress a grin. There were audible snickers from the audience. Some of the people here had to have heard them do this song before, and it wouldn't surprise Hunter to learn that they were the ones laughing. Cam didn't let just anyone embarrass him.

"I won't bite," Hunter added, enjoying every minute of it, "but he just smiles, says hell no--I want to drive!"

Cam took over, finishing the song with the same good-natured flourish with which he had agreed to it in the first place. It was just like any other night--problems disappeared when they were performing, and this wasn't the first time Hunter had been grateful for that. Practice time, too, was neutral ground... maybe if they had done more of that lately, it wouldn't have taken a show to get the two of them into the same room.

This time, he let Cam pick the next song. He half-expected to hear "I Want To Talk About Me" again, but instead Cam mouthed the word "stampede" with a questioning look. Hunter nodded once, wondering if Cam had just picked one of his favorite songs in exchange for "Chrome." Because if that was as close as they got to an apology? He'd take it.

The idle chatter had increased in volume while they silently conferred, but it quieted again with Cam's strumming. He let the chords trail off into silence, so that the first lines of Hunter's story were the only sound in the darkened room. It was a cowboy story, less serious than the vigilantism of "The Borderline," and he liked "Stampede" not only for the thunderstorms but also for the impression of a reality that wasn't quite what it seemed.

"We made camp along Red River," he told the windows at the back of the room. It was very quiet without even the guitar behind his voice. "We watched the cattle as they bedded down. And back at the wagons, right after supper, we laid our bedrolls on the ground."

Cam's guitar joined in then, accenting the words. "Me and Willy took the night guard," Hunter said, making no effort to speak louder. "The sage had never smelled so sweet, and the prairie moon was blazing silver: no chance tonight for a stampede."

It was an easy rhythm to get into, and he liked the way Cam followed whatever pace he set. It must take some kind of talent to accommodate Hunter's own variable focus when it came to keeping time. He knew he went too fast when he got distracted, and too slowly when he was trying to figure out what Cam was doing. Cam called him on it in practice all the time, but he had never said anything in front of other people.

"Way over yonder off in the distance, toward the mountains there in the west... did I see lightning, did I hear thunder?" He would never say those words without thinking of school, of the academy where he had learned to direct those same elements. "My mind is weary, I could use some rest.

"Then all at once the wind shifts directions, the clouds roll in behind the tumbleweeds. These Longhorn cattle are getting restless--god help us all if they stampede. Smell the rain, hear the thunder... the midnight sky turns black as death. Lightning crashes, smell the sulfur: it's rank and strong, the devil's breath."

There was no reaction at all from the room, except maybe a little more quiet than there had been before. He had expected that. He even appreciated it. It was one of those songs that they did because he liked the way it sounded, not because it got the crowd involved. There were plenty of other chances for that.

"The cattle rise up and go to running. I spur my pony on to take the lead, and across the herd I hear Willy yelling, 'hey, stampede!' Dust clouds rise together as the rain falls, they mix together and turn the air to mud. I feel the Longhorns brush against me, and I can feel the demons rushing through my blood."

And if that wasn't what it felt like to fight, he didn't know what was. Back when it was just him and his brother and finally their team against Lothor's evil alien army, back when all he had to worry about was whether Cam would chew them out for destroying something he could always fix... Back when Cam told him things, even if it was just cutting commentary on his sparring skills.

"Then all at once my pony stumbles--" He realized he was watching Cam, and he looked away quickly. "We hit the ground, and I rise up to my knees. In a flash of light I see the cattle coming... I know I'm going to die in this stampede."

He paused, waiting for the sound of the guitar to fade away completely. "Then I awake, and I look around me. I'm in my bedroll and I'm lying on the ground. Over there's the wagon, and there's the campfire. I was only dreaming... but what's that sound?"

Cam was accompanying him again, and he said quietly, "Then I feel the earth tremble underneath me, as the sky begins to bleed. From the blackness I can hear Willy yelling, 'Hey, stampede!'"

The song ended as abruptly as it had begun, and it wasn't until he had lowered the mike that people began to clap. It was polite applause, he thought, since they weren't exactly playing to their audience. They were really playing to each other now, feeling each other out, each seeing just what the other might be willing to give or take.

It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

He raised his eyebrows at Cam, but before they could agree on anything someone called out for "the devil song." Hunter couldn't suppress a smirk--it might be a cover, but they had put their stamp on that song. You knew people weren't tired of you yet when they could remember what you did and ask for it... identifiably, if not by name.

Cam nodded, and Hunter wondered if he should be surprised. It wasn't a song you did with someone you were angry with--at least, not the way they performed it. But they had always been able to keep performances separate from personal issues... maybe it didn't mean as much as he'd like to think it did.

Cam could have refused, he reminded himself. "The Devil Went Down To Georgia," he told the room at large, and there were a couple of cheers. "If you're really bored, later," he added with a grin, "we'll do 'The Devil Came Back To Georgia.' Because if campus isn't going to hell already, we can at least bring hell to the campus."

He wouldn't have said it to just any audience. It did seem to provoke the intended response, however, that being muffled laughter and the occasional giggle. He was listening more closely to Cam's adjustments as he settled into the intro, waiting for the pause that would signal the beginning of the song. He was glad of the cordless mike, and he intended to use it to its full potential.

"The devil went down to Georgia," he declared, jumping in the moment Cam's gaze flicked toward his. He started to pace, slowly, towards Cam and then around behind him. "He was looking for a soul to steal. He was in a bind, 'cause he was way behind, so he was willing to make a deal."

Cam was watching his guitar again, paying no attention to Hunter's advance. Hunter paused where he was, visibly sizing Cam up, and told the mike, "He came across a young man sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot--" His mind amended the words of its own accord, and he smirked slightly. "The devil jumped up on a hickory stump and said, 'boy, let me tell you what!'"

Cam's hands froze on the guitar and he lifted his gaze at last. Brown eyes met Hunter's, then gave him a once-over thorough enough to make him pause. That wasn't just a token look, an echo of what Hunter had done--Cam was going to play his part as far as it went. The realization only made Hunter's smirk widen.

"I bet you didn't know it," he told Cam lazily, "but I'm a fiddle player too." The room was almost completely silent, and on impulse, Hunter reached out and ran a finger up the arm of Cam's guitar. The ascending whine was clearly audible in the quiet.

Cam didn't look down, and he didn't take his eyes off of Cam. "If you'd care to take a dare," he said, lowering his voice, "I'll make a bet with you."

Cam shifted his fingers and strummed the guitar deliberately, the challenge clear in his eyes even as he accompanied Hunter's words with the music. Hunter let out his breath in an amused huff that he made sure everyone could see. "You play a pretty good fiddle, boy," he said, looking down at Cam. "But give the devil his due. I bet a fiddle of gold against your..."

He paused just long enough to make it obvious that he had, dropping his gaze briefly before continuing, "soul, 'cause I think I'm better than you." He ran his tongue across his lips for emphasis, and someone in the front whistled.

Cam didn't disappoint him. He could do arrogant and patronizing like no one else, but tonight he managed to look amused and mildly curious about Hunter's "offer." "My name's Johnny," he remarked, his gaze sliding across Hunter toward the audience for a moment, "and it might be a sin..."

He looked back at Hunter, and his smirk as his eyes traversed Hunter's body was very convincing. "But I'll take your bet, and you're gonna regret--" Cam caught Hunter's eye. "Cause I'm the best that's ever been."

They used to sing the chorus together, and still did sometimes when they were doing the family-friendly version of the song. But now Hunter stepped closer until he was directly behind Cam, turning his head to the left so that he could talk into Cam's ear and still get the mike close enough to pick it up. Cam didn't so much as blink, his entire attention apparently focused on his guitar.

"Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard," Hunter murmured, turning the words into the same drawl he had used in "Chrome." He lifted his free hand to Cam's shoulder, careful not to put any weight on his arm that might distract him from the music. "Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the devil deals the cards."

Trailing his fingers across Cam's arm and down to his elbow, he added, "And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold..." He let his voice drop, still well within range of the mike. "But it you lose, the devil gets your soul."

Cam turned his head a little in mute acknowledgement of Hunter's words. There was a brief solo during which Hunter stepped away, but not before he saw the half-smile on Cam's face. It was impossible to tell whether it was Johnny's expression or Cam's, but Hunter was inclined to think it was the latter.

When the guitar returned to D minor and stayed there, Hunter started in again. "The devil opened up his case and he said, 'I'll start this show,' and fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow." This time he stayed away from Cam, moving slowly around the front of the room as he addressed the audience. "He pulled the bow across the strings and it made an evil hiss...

"Then a band of demons joined in, and it sounded something like this." He took a step back, holding out one hand to indicate Cam. The guitar spoke, Cam didn't, and Hunter watched with what he hoped wasn't totally unabashed admiration.

It was Cam's turn to look up after this solo, supposedly representing the devil's best effort at fiddle playing, and he told the audience himself: "When the devil finished Johnny said, 'Well, you're pretty good, old son."

Glancing over at Hunter, his mouth quirked. There was an irrefutably cocky note to his voice when he added, "But sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done."

Just because Hunter hadn't sung didn't mean Cam wouldn't--and he did, making the second chorus into an irritatingly professional sound despite the lyrics. "Fire on the mountain, run boys run: devil's in the house of the rising sun... Chicken in a bread pan picking at dough, granny will your dog bite? No child no--"

Hunter used the solo time that followed to wander back toward Cam, dragging his feet and pulling a put-upon look that Cam assured him he did all too well. As the solo wound to an end, Cam turned enough to put them both at right angles to the rest of the room as Hunter approached. Three steps from Cam, Hunter dropped to one knee in front of him and contemplated the floor.

"The devil bowed his head," he told the mike grimly, "because he knew that he'd been beat." He lifted his head slowly, craning his neck to look up at Cam over the guitar. "He laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet."

Cam's fingers slid across the strings without hesitation, but his eyes never left Hunter's face as he replied, "Devil, just come on back if you ever want to try again... 'cause I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been!"

If he was a little too vehement there Hunter chose to ignore it, especially when Cam didn't stop playing. The switch from D minor to D, and then on to C, gave him seven or eight seconds to get to his feet and circle around behind Cam. He always knew when Cam was annoyed, mad at him, or just plain self-conscious, because he left this part off.

The guitar changed back to a D chord as Hunter moved in close behind Cam. His face was within breathing distance of Cam's, and he lifted his right hand to Cam's shoulder just as he had earlier. He slid his fingers down Cam's arm as Cam sang quietly, "Fire on the mountain, run boys run..."

Hunter made sure his own mike was off as he settled his other arm around Cam's waist. He lowered his head until his cheek rested against Cam's temple, and the guitar slowed to match Cam's words as he concluded, "Devil's in the house of the rising sun..."

The chords trailed off into nothingness.

A couple of people whooped, someone whistled, and most of the room applauded. For an informal campus coffeehouse like this, that was a vote of unconditional support. Hunter was sorely tempted to turn his head just a little and kiss Cam before pulling away, but he knew when not to push it. He let go and stepped back, reflecting ruefully that before they had started dating, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. Kissing had been just a part of the show.

Cam turned enough to catch his eye and mouth the word, "done?" in his direction. Hunter nodded, flipping the mike back on and lifting it to address the audience again. "Thanks," he offered with an easy grin. "I'm Hunter, this is Cam, and thanks for listening to us. We're going to get out of the way now and let someone else take over, so enjoy the rest of the evening."

This was greeted by scattered applause, and he looked around to try and identify the next performers. None were immediately apparent, so he returned the mike to its stand and waited for Cam to pack up his guitar and push the case out of the way behind one of the tables. "Coffee?" he suggested, and Cam nodded wordlessly.

Well, this could be interesting. He could only assume that Cam would, in fact, start talking to him at some point this evening. In the meantime, though, at least he was off the hook as far as apologizing went.

Was that good or bad, he wondered suddenly? It wasn't going to get any easier.

Tables were set up along the side wall with various kinds of coffee, hot water, coffee additives and cocoa mix. He would be hard-pressed to distinguish between the different types of coffee in the dimness, but he located a clean mug and poured in a generous helping of cocoa while Cam was inspecting them.

"What's the verdict?" Hunter inquired. He had no doubt that Cam had identified all of them while he had been distracted.

Sure enough, Cam pointed to each one in succession and recited names. "French vanilla, hazelnut, decaf, hot water." He held his mug under the decaf spout and filled it almost to the top.

Shrugging, Hunter put his mug under the same spout and poured half a cup of coffee over his cocoa. He proceeded to add three packets of sugar, or whatever passed for sugar here, and filled the rest of the mug with half 'n half before stirring it all together. He caught Cam's amused gaze and widened his eyes. "What?"

Cam just shook his head. Hunter put the mug to his mouth and tried a swallow, easily at a drinkable temperature with the addition of so much half 'n half. He paused for dramatic effect, then nodded decisively. "Needs more sugar."

Cam watched while he tore into another packet of sugar, casting a token glance over his shoulder when Lucy and Rascha finally took over the microphones. Hunter followed his gaze while he stirred the sugar in. "Rascha said you sounded good," he remarked, monitoring Cam's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Cam gave him a startled look. "When?"

"While you were singing, earlier. I came in during that last song you did, and Rascha said you sounded good." He tried his cocoa-coffee again, trying to look nonchalant. He did glance at Cam, but his dark eyes were unreadable in this lighting.

"You heard that song?" Cam asked at last.

"Yeah." Anything you want to tell me about it? he wondered silently. "Nice," he added after a moment. "Never heard you do it before."

Cam offered a slight shrug, his eyes all of a sudden focused on his coffee. "It's new," he said evasively.

When Hunter didn't answer, Cam looked over at him again. The silence stretched, and Hunter let it--he wasn't sure what to say, and at this point just being in the same room with Cam was an improvement. They might not be comfortable, but they were here, and that was something.

He'd missed Cam. It didn't even sound like enough to think it, the word "miss" inadequate for the lonely ache that was still keeping him up nights. Funny how fast he had forgotten what it was like to sleep alone. Funny how fast he had traded the easy stability of their friendship for the rollercoaster of emotion that constituted their current relationship. It'd had its highs, certainly... but the lows were deadly.

Finally, Cam gave voice to the doubt between them. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he told his coffee mug.

Neither was I, Hunter admitted to himself. There was only one truth, though, and it had led him here tonight against his better judgement. "I wouldn't stand you up."

He thought Cam let out a small huff of amusement, but he could have just been blowing steam off of his coffee. Cam took a tentative sip before replying, "Until now, I didn't think you'd go a week without speaking to me either."

"Hey." Hunter tried not to sound defensive, but it was easier wished for than done. "I think the not speaking was mutual."

Cam allowed a small nod for that statement, but no other reply was forthcoming. It had been a long week, and he couldn't say it wasn't frustrating to have Cam so close and still not be able to communicate with him. He had always thought he was pretty good at telling people what he thought--until the day his brother got married and his best friend announced that he was in love with him. Hunter felt like he'd been playing catch-up ever since.

"We knew it wouldn't work," Cam said quietly. He was watching Rascha and Lucy now, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry. "We knew that going in. At least we tried."

"Whoa--wait a second." Hunter totally ignored someone trying to reach the coffee behind him until Cam glanced his way and gestured for him to move. He stepped closer to Cam and lowered his voice without losing any of his determination. "Just because we haven't made it work yet doesn't mean we never will. This isn't over, Cam."

Cam gave him an unfathomable look. "I wasn't kidding when I hit you."

"Yeah, well, there are times when I could beat some sense into you, too," Hunter retorted. "We had a bad night. It happens."

"A bad night?" Cam repeated skeptically.

Hunter didn't flinch. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" If there was one thing that dating Cam had done for him, it had made those words slightly easier to say. "I screwed up. So did you. We just... I don't know, we jumped into this thing too fast. That's all."

Cam moved out of the way of another person in search of coffee or cocoa and took another sip of his own. "After four years," he said at last, "you think we started dating too fast?"

"Screw dating," Hunter scoffed. "We practically moved in together! You can't tell me you were comfortable with that. We should have left each other some space--you know, like normal couples," he added wryly. Like they would ever be a normal couple.

Cam shifted, his frown visible even over his coffee mug. He didn't answer, and Hunter wondered if he would ever learn how to talk to this man. As long as they had been friends, it hadn't mattered so much--he had trusted Cam to get through to him if there was something he needed to know, and if Cam didn't bother, well, that wasn't Hunter's problem.

Now it definitely was Hunter's problem. And unfortunately, the night that had made it Hunter's problem had also brought home to him just how much Cam might keep from him if he was given the chance. So now he struggled through this emotional crap just for someone who wasn't any more talkative than he was most days, and all he had to show for it was a higher than ever frustration threshold.

One of the people looking for coffee was shooting them curious looks, and that was it. "Can I take you out somewhere?" Hunter asked abruptly. "That cyber place on Main Street?" Cam might not be any more willing to talk there, but at least Hunter wouldn't feel like they were on display.

Cam straightened, took another sip of coffee before setting the mug down, and nodded once. Almost as though he had expected Hunter to ask. "Let me get my guitar."

Hunter made no move to follow him. Instead he devoted himself to finishing his cocoa-coffee, determined to finish at least one thing he started tonight. He lingered even after he saw Cam moving toward the door, swallowing the last of his drink before he set the empty mug back on the table. He caught Amanda's eye as he turned to follow and he let his gaze slide away, hoping she wouldn't hold it against him. He wasn't going to start any conversations until he'd finished the one he was having--or not having--with Cam.

The silhouette by the corner was leaning against the building, guitar propped up beside him as though he had been there for hours. How did he do that, Hunter wondered? He had watched Cam leave seconds before him, and yet there he was, waiting like Hunter was late.

"You wanna put that in the truck?" Hunter offered, joining him as Cam stood up straight again. He assumed Cam had walked. "I parked out by the street."

"Thanks." Cam fell into step beside him without another word, and Hunter tried not to sigh. The fact that Cam wasn't the most talkative person in the world had always been a plus, as far as he was concerned--but lately, he couldn't help thinking that things might be a little easier if Cam occasionally volunteered more than a few words at a time.

Somewhat to his surprise, it was Cam who broke the silence during their walk up Main Street. "You're right," he said quietly.

Hunter shot him a sideways glance, but Cam didn't elaborate. "You wanna explain that?" Hunter prompted.

"It was a bad night," Cam said with a sigh. "I said things I shouldn't have. I did things I shouldn't have. And I should have been the one calling you, not the other way around."

"Hey, I have a phone." He couldn't explain his uncharacteristic desire to share the blame, but there it was. Maybe he just figured Cam had enough guilt already. "There were two of us there, Cam. I knew you were upset. I could have walked away, and I didn't."

"You shouldn't have had to," Cam muttered.

Hunter took his arm and forced him to stop. Even as he did it, he regretted it, but it was too late to take back the gesture. "Would you stop expecting this to be perfect?" he demanded. "This isn't a freakin' fairy tale, all right? You have to work at things you want. I want this, and I think you do too. So let's just assume we're going to make mistakes and get over it already."

Cam was staring at him, no easier to read now than he had been before. "That's your whole life philosophy, isn't it?" He didn't sound angry, but he didn't sound particularly amused either. "Stuff happens. Move on."

Hunter shrugged. It sounded about right to him. "It's worked for me so far," he offered lightly.

Cam's mouth quirked, and he let out a breath that could have been amused or exasperated. "I wish I could do that," he mused.

"What?" Hunter inquired. "Move on, or work for me? 'Cause the guys would love to have you. It'd probably keep me off their backs for a few days."

Cam rolled his eyes, but he answered the question anyway. "Accept things," he said. "Just get over them, like you do."

"Hey." Hunter softened his voice. "It's not 'things' I accept. You know that. It's just you."

"Because I want you to," Cam murmured, almost too quietly to make out.

Hunter frowned. "What?"

Cam sighed, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. "Sometimes I think you're just doing this because you know I want to," he said softly.

"That's bullshit," Hunter snapped. The response was instinctive, unreasoned, a flare of annoyance that encompassed everything he couldn't find the words to say. "Thanks for giving me absolutely no credit here, Cam."

Cam's gaze flicked back to his, and Hunter's fists clenched as he reminded himself to keep his hands to himself. It had been his willingness to get physical about things that had made Cam hit him, and the bruises hadn't completely faded yet. "Look, I love you," Hunter told him. "Do you even know how hard that is for me to say?

"There's only two people in the world that ever hear that from me," he continued. "And I don't lie awake at night wondering what Blake's doing. So it'd be nice if you'd get out of guilt mode long enough to believe me when I say I'm trying. Because I want to. Because I want you. And because being with you is probably the most important thing I've ever done."

Cam was staring at him, and Hunter had to sigh. "And also, did I mention that I'm incredibly sappy tonight?" A week of being alone was really starting to mess with his mind.

Cam's mouth quirked. "I like it," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off of Hunter.

"Yeah, well." Hunter shifted uncomfortably. "Don't get used to it. You wanna stand here on the side of the street all night, or should we actually, y'know--go somewhere?"

"I'd rather stand here on the side of the street," Cam said frankly. "I don't really want to go out. I just... I wanted to talk to you."

Hunter blinked. That wasn't what he'd read into Cam's determined silence at all. "Okay," he agreed slowly, studying his reluctant lover. "I'm listening."

Cam folded his arms, looking down at the sidewalk. "I want to apologize for... last week," he told the ground. "Maybe you're right, maybe we just--didn't have enough space."

He paused, and Hunter interjected, "Or maybe that's just what we do. We're not very agreeable people, you ever notice that?"

Cam looked up, startled, and Hunter had to grin. "Come on, seriously. We fight. It doesn't usually come to blows, but... we're not exactly Dustin and Marah, you know what I mean?"

This prompted another eye-roll from Cam, and Hunter added, "Don't tell me we shouldn't fight, okay? That's all I'm saying."

"Right," Cam said with a sigh. "Fighting. I'll add that to my schedule, then."

"Nah," Hunter countered. "It's never been on there before, and we always manage to fit it in."

Cam finally smiled, holding his gaze steadily. "You know, I was trying to say I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I got that," Hunter agreed. "I'm sorry, you're sorry, we'll keep working on it. That about sum it up?"

Cam hesitated. "Not... totally," he said at last.

Hunter waited.

Cam sighed again, then, inexplicably, started walking again. Hunter fell into step beside him, wondering what could possibly be so important that Cam wouldn't say it to his face. Cam liked to be distracted while they were talking--something that, like so many of Cam's habits, drove Hunter crazy more now than ever. He tried to ignore it.

"You said we got into this too fast," Cam said after a moment. There were other groups wandering along the street in both directions, most of them considerably more conspicuous than they were.

When Cam didn't continue, Hunter replied, "And you laughed at me. Your point?"

"Would you still go out with me if we weren't having sex?"

Hunter blinked. It took him a few seconds to organize his thoughts into any kind of verbal expression. "You're just full of doubt tonight, aren't you." He probably sounded more amused than he should have, and judging by Cam's expression now wasn't the time to make his life harder. "Yeah, of course I would. Why?"

"Because I want to. Just date, I mean. No sex."

Cam just got more and more difficult to figure out. "Okay," Hunter agreed, wondering where that had come from.

Cam was looking at him again. "You're okay with that? Just like that?"

"Sure," Hunter said with a shrug. In all honesty, after a week of not even seeing each other? Cam could probably get him to agree to anything he wanted. "Just like that."

Cam shook his head but didn't answer. He supposed that shouldn't surprise him. They were walking past the flower shop--long closed at this hour--the hardware store, and the travel agency--both longer closed--and coming up on some of the best ice cream in town. "Want something to eat?" he offered.

Cam's response was predictable and mostly automatic. "Ice cream isn't a food, Hunter."

"I'll take that as a yes," Hunter assured him. "Pick a flavor or I'm picking for you."

"Cookie dough," Cam said quickly.

Hunter smirked. For someone who claimed that ice cream wasn't a food, Cam was very fast on the rebound. He was seriously tempted to get something mint-y for himself, but he knew he'd be subject to Cam's sideways glances for the rest of the night. Not to mention the places his mind would go with every lick... sometimes that Ranger history came back to haunt them in the most unexpected ways.

He ended up with bear tracks on a cone, while Cam chose the slightly more dignified cup and spoon. "Spoilsport," Hunter told him, but he took the spoonful Cam offered him without complaint. "Good," he agreed, holding out his cone in return.

Cam did do things that were cuter than licking ice cream from someone else's hand, but Hunter couldn't think of any of them right now. He was gonna start a list, if only so he could embarrass Cam come New Years. He could see it now: Top Ten Cutest Things Cam Does.

He would never hear the end of it.

They sat down on one of the benches that lined the downtown portion of Main Street, eating their ice cream and watching the Wednesday night party crowd trickle by. It was a warm night, and keeping his ice cream from dripping took up most of his attention. He caught Cam watching him from time to time, and he smiled innocently. He did like ice cream cones better than ice cream in a dish, but he wasn't totally oblivious to the sensual nature of their consumption.

No sex, huh? It seemed a strange request, to him, but he and Cam had radically different views on the subject to begin with. He had known Cam a long time before sex became part of their relationship, and at this point the only thing that mattered to him was making sure that relationship continued. Sex or no sex.

"Cam," he said at last, crunching down on the top of his cone. The remaining ice cream was doing its best to squeeze out through the hole in the bottom. "You know I love you, right?"

Maybe if he practiced. Cam had never struck him as the kind of guy that needed things repeated, but Blake said it worked with Tori. His little bro kept a running tally of the number of times he said "I love you" each day. He usually got in one when they left in the morning, and then he tried to remember to say it again before they went to bed. That made two he could count on, Blake told him, and anything after that he considered a bonus.

Hunter thought that after a week of the silent treatment, he was a little behind.

"I love you too," Cam said quietly.

To his own surprise, it made Hunter smile to hear it. "Well, I'm just saying." He cleared his throat and took another bite out of his ice cream cone. "We've been together a long time, right? Y'know, as friends, before this whole dating thing."

Cam nodded, toying with the spoon in his empty plastic cup.

"Well..." He swallowed, telling himself it was just the cold of the ice cream that made his throat feel weird. He took another bite, crunching down on it fiercely. "What you said earlier, about it not working? Kind of freaked me out. It sounded sort of... final."

He looked over at Cam and found another unreadable stare being directed his way. With no clue what Cam was thinking and no way to find out without interrupting his train of thought, all he could do was plow on. "Look, don't ever say that again. That's all."

Cam's mouth quirked up at the corners, and after a moment he nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Hunter repeated, satisfied. He devoted himself to finishing the rest of his ice cream cone with single-minded determination.

They lingered for a few minutes after he finished, watching the people on the street and exchanging glances when a police car howled by. "Why are we hearing sirens?" Cam wondered under his breath.

"It's too early for anyone to have done anything," Hunter finished, smirking. It was an old joke, but still funny. To him. He reached out and took Cam's empty ice cream dish from his hands, standing up to toss it into the trashcan nearest his end of the bench.

Cam was right beside him, and by unspoken consent they wandered back down the street the way they'd come. They reached the truck too soon, and he offered Cam a ride back to his apartment. It was a quiet trip, quick and maybe somewhat muted by their reluctance to disturb the newfound peace between them.

When they arrived, he turned the engine off and looked over at Cam. He hadn't moved. "Why did you go?" Hunter asked suddenly. "To the coffeehouse tonight, I mean."

Cam reached out, tracing one finger around the racing sticker on the glove compartment. It was peeling a little at the edges, giving any passenger the excuse to try and stick it back down--it never worked, but it had become something of a habit with Cam. Hunter watched wordlessly, wondering what he was thinking.

Finally, he shrugged. "We said we'd be there," Cam said. "I guess... it seemed easier to wait and see if you'd show up than it would have been to call you and apologize."

"And if I hadn't?" Hunter asked, frowning.

Cam sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Then I guess I would have... I don't know what I would have done. Maybe called you. Maybe gone home and--I don't know."

Hunter echoed his sigh. They really did have to work at this. "Next time," he decided, "I'll call you. We can switch off or something."

Cam just reached for the dashboard again, then let his hand fall before it could get there. "How do you feel about tomorrow night?"

Tomorrow night. Thursday--they were supposed to have dinner with Sensei on Thursday. It had crossed his mind earlier this evening, but he had assumed it was another of those things that Cam had cancelled. Or at least told his father about, warned him to expect one guest instead of two... Why he thought Cam would be more likely to talk to his father than the coffeehouse organizers was a mystery, but the question still surprised him.

"I'm good with it," he said at last. "Does he... did you talk to him at all?"

Cam actually laughed, but it wasn't a particularly humorous sound. "After the way he reacted two weeks ago? No. I haven't spoken to him since the last time we had dinner with him."

Yeah, he hadn't forgotten that night yet either. As much as Sensei tried to be okay with his son's sexuality, he wasn't so good at dealing with the practical realities of the situation. Namely, Cam's occasional boyfriends. And Hunter wasn't even one of the intellectuals Cam had brought home in the past, someone to whom Sensei could relate on a level beyond just "Cam's boyfriend." They shared ninja and even Ranger history, of course, but that was balanced by remembered bitterness over Sensei's years-old accusation that he had "turned Cam gay."

Coming out as a couple to Cam's dad had been a seriously trying experience. The only, and he stressed only, good thing about their recent separation had been the possibility that he might not be required at the next dinner. Cam always went, though--some months it was the only contact he had with his father--and Hunter had been going with him when he was in town for almost a year now. So he would go again, and maybe it would be less awkward this time.

It would be almost impossible for it to be more awkward, he thought ruefully.

"You know," Cam said quietly. "You don't have to come."

"I'm coming." Hunter looked over at him. "Pick you up at six?"

Cam gave him a genuine smile. "That'd be great. Thanks," he added, almost as an afterthought, and Hunter couldn't resist.

Releasing his seatbelt, he leaned over and kissed Cam quickly. It was easy, close, familiar, and Cam didn't turn his head away. Instead he lifted his hand to Hunter's shoulder, fingers sliding around behind his neck, and kissed him back. The gesture was gentle, the warm pressure of lips moving over his without demanding anything more, and it erased the last of his reservations.

When Cam finally slid out of the passenger seat, pulling his guitar out of the back of the truck as he went, the glum expression he'd worn before was completely gone. He actually smiled as he leaned on the frame of the truck, looking as relaxed as he had all night. "I'm glad you came tonight," he offered.

"Me too." Hunter reached into his pocket and removed his cell phone, waving it in Cam's direction pointedly. "But next time, we're talking the next day."

Cam let out a breath of amusement, dropping his gaze momentarily as he grinned at the ground. "Deal," he agreed, catching Hunter's eye again. "'Night, Hunter."

"Night," Hunter said with a smile. Cam pushed the door shut, and he watched him walk up the outside stairs to his second-floor apartment. Cam stopped to fumble with his key, then turned to give the truck a quick glance before he disappeared inside.

Hunter was still smiling when he reached for the ignition. Cam was cute when he was happy. The engine rumbled to life, headlights coming on automatically, and he put the vehicle in reverse. There were more people on the campus roads than there were cars, but the number of pedestrians tapered off as he approached his own street.

The apartment he used to share with Blake was no less stiflingly quiet than it had been for the last week. Somehow, though, it seemed less lonely as he turned on the radio, turned out the lights, and fell into bed. Time enough to deal with everything tomorrow. Right now he wanted to fall asleep not wondering what Cam was doing or who he might be with.

It was the first decent sleep he'd gotten in days.

It wasn't until the next morning that he realized what he'd said, and that was when the lying in bed and staring at the ceiling began. Staring at the ceiling and grinning like he couldn't stop. It was a beautiful morning, he was at home instead of out on the road, and maybe he was a total sap but he was fucking crazy about Cam.

Just like falling in love, or like falling in love was in those ridiculous soap operas they made about people who were too messed up to know better. He had obviously fallen in love at some point--or so people kept telling him--and he had totally and completely missed it. He'd missed this too. But Cam wouldn't have missed it, and Cam had even agreed, and that meant that what he had said was okay.

"Don't ever say that again," he'd told Cam. Don't ever tell me that it's not working. Don't ever tell me that we should give up, that it's over, that this is the end. Ever. Because it isn't.

And it never will be.

He grinned at the ceiling, then rolled over and grinned into his pillow. Then he felt kind of ridiculous, because geez, he was allowed to be happy if he wanted to be, right? So he sat up and grinned at the wall, stretched and grinned at the radio, stumbled out into the kitchen and grinned at the coffeemaker. He was seriously starting to feel high.

Cam had agreed. He and Cam had made up, he was picking Cam up tonight like the whole stupid week had never happened, and Cam had agreed. He'd never say it was over. That was the kind of promise someone like Cam didn't make lightly.

The euphoria didn't fade as the day wore on, and he had to make up crazy stories to keep the kids off his back at the co-op. They all wanted to know why he was grinning, which maybe he should have expected. They wanted to know why he laughed at the smallest thing, which he wasn't doing at all. And mostly they wanted to know whether or not they were going to get away with more than usual because of his good mood.

He told them he'd gotten a prize in his cereal box that morning. He told them he'd lost one of his shoes and then found it again. He told them he'd heard his favorite song on the radio. That turned out to be a bad idea because then they wanted to know what his favorite song was, and he was pretty sure he could get in trouble for reciting "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" to three- and four-year-olds. He told them they were funny, they weren't getting away with anything, and they'd better wash their hands right now.

He didn't think they were convinced. Actually, he knew they weren't convinced about the hand-washing, and he thought they were pretty doubtful about the funny part. Which only made him grin more, because that was the truest thing he'd said. Everything else was pretty much open to interpretation.

He had signed up to stay until the main building closed at five, and then he went home to change and put gas in the truck before picking up Cam. And to eat something other than peanut butter crackers and apple juice, because dinner with Sensei was sometimes more about trying not to tick each other off than it was about eating. He grabbed a slice of pizza from the refrigerator on his way out.

When he stopped at the gas station, it wouldn't accept his debit card. "Please see cashier," it told him. He rolled his eyes and slid his credit card instead.

"Please see cashier," the pump insisted.

So he went inside, detoured to pick up a couple of Power Bars because pizza might not be enough if Sensei was really on a roll, and came to an indecisive halt in front of the counter. There were roses in a bucket by the cash register. It was a sign of how screwed up his life had been recently that he noticed them at all, because so what if gas stations had flowers? Who the hell did he have to buy flowers for?

He was struck by the urge to buy flowers. Just a single rose, he argued with himself. No big deal. People in love did that kind of shit. Hell, guys did it all the time, or else why would they be selling them at a gas station? Women sure weren't the target market here.

It was dumb. He'd never hear the end of it if he gave Cam roses. Maybe if he was a girl, okay... Hunter might possibly have considered buying roses for the opposite sex. Especially if he'd messed up--which he had--because traditionally that was how a guy told his girlfriend he was sorry.

A boyfriend, though... that was kind of gay.

Cam would like it.

Cam was a romantic, he reminded himself. Of course he'd like it. He wouldn't laugh. And if he did, so what? He liked Hunter; he wasn't gonna drop him just because he started getting flowers out of it.

One flower. He picked a rose, tossed the Power Bars on the counter, and told the cashier that pump number five wasn't taking his debit card. The cashier, predictably, told him there was nothing wrong with the pump, but if he wanted to prepay she could slide his card there at the register.

"Sure, do it," he told her. He picked an even number, and she gave him a paper towel for the stem of the rose. Classy, he thought, torn between amusement and embarrassment.

He left the paper towel and the Power Bars in the truck when he got to Cam's apartment. He was glad there was no one outside to see him run up the stairs with a rose in his hand. He put it behind his back before he knocked, mostly so it wouldn't be the first thing Cam saw if he opened the door himself.

He heard Cam yell "Come in!" through the partly open window, and he had the weirdest urge to leave the rose on his doorstep and hide. He shook his head, pushing the door open and glancing around before he stepped inside. Cam was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," Hunter called, closing the door behind him. "Brought you something."

"Bedroom," Cam's voice answered, and Hunter had to smile.

"Is that an invitation?" he called back. He headed for the door anyway, knowing Cam would have said something if it wasn't. He was on edge and trying not to think about it, the glee that came from a day's worth of knowing what he wanted quickly giving way to nerves. Knowing what you wanted always involved the possibility of not getting it.

The bedroom door was ajar, and he pushed it open without thinking. Cam was on the floor, peering under the bed for no immediately obvious reason. "You think this is cute," he told the space under the bed. "You're the one who's going to suffer."

"Heather?" Hunter guessed, switching the rose to his other hand behind his back. "You want some help?"

"Not unless you have some magic cat-zapping ability you haven't told me about," Cam grumbled, lifting his head and sitting down on the floor with finality. He leaned back against the bed as he stared irritably up at Hunter. "She has a urinary tract infection, and there's nothing I can do to get her to take her pills."

"Did you put them in her food?" Hunter wanted to know.

"She eats the food and leaves the pill," Cam muttered.

"Grind them up and sprinkle them on her food?" Hunter suggested.

"Then she doesn't eat the food at all," Cam said with a sigh. "I feel guilty."

"So give her something she doesn't usually get," Hunter offered. "Kitty candy. Something she doesn't recognize the taste of. Maybe she won't know there's medicine in it."

"It seemed easier to shove it down her throat," Cam muttered, and to hear Cam admit that about his own cat made Hunter realize how frustrated he really was. He must have been dealing with this for days now.

"We'll get something at the store after dinner," Hunter promised. "She's not gonna die if she doesn't get her pills, right?"

"No." Cam grimaced up at him. "She'll just keep peeing all over the apartment."

Oh. Okay, that was obnoxious. "You don't want to put her outside?" Hunter guessed. "Can you stick her in the bathroom?"

"She's not getting any better outside." He left unspoken the fact that she wasn't getting any better inside, either. "She could go in the bathroom. If I could get her out from under the bed."

"You try the flashy ball thing?"

Cam let his head fall back against the bed in a gesture of utter exasperation. "I tried everything short of feline death threats. She's not budging."

Hunter raised his eyebrows. "You got a yardstick?"

Cam lifted his head, his expression neutral. "You want to poke her out?"

"I thought we could move the bed first," Hunter said with a shrug. "Then we could poke her out."

Cam's lips quirked reluctantly. "I have a curtain rod."

"That works," Hunter agreed. "By the way," he added, pulling the rose from behind his back awkwardly. "Did I mention that I brought you something?"

Cam just stared at him for a long moment. Then his reluctant humor gave way to an actual smile, and he held out his hand wordlessly. Hunter reached out and pulled him to his feet. They were very close when Cam dropped his gaze to look at the rose Hunter still held.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

It was funny; he hadn't been able to anticipate Cam's reaction at all. And yet now that he had it, it seemed so obvious. Like there was nothing else Cam would have said.

"Sorry I was such a jerk last week," Hunter blurted out. He hadn't meant to apologize again. But if Cam was going to thank him for it--

Cam lifted his head again and caught his eye. "I'm sorry I was," he said evenly. Then after a brief pause he added, "I didn't expect flowers."

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Next time you get coal," he muttered.

Cam actually chuckled. "Even if I promise to be good?" he wanted to know.

"Boring," Hunter countered. His gaze dropped to Cam's mouth and the teasing smile that lingered there. "Just promise to be you."

"I promise," Cam said, more quietly but still with the smile.

Hunter lowered his head and Cam met him halfway, the kiss sweet and sorely missed. He didn't know how he had ever gone without kissing Cam. He had known him for years, been with him through ninja wars and girlfriends and buying cat food at the supermarket, and the most kissing they had ever done was when they were in front of a microphone pretending to be other people.

It seemed like a lot of time to make up for now. They kissed carefully, like it was more important to touch than it was to get closer, and he pressed his lips to every part of Cam's mouth. Gently, slowly, the kind of kissing that he'd only done with Charlie when they were both too drunk or too tired to manage anything else.

It wasn't the kind of kissing that Cam usually seemed to care about. Which was weird, now that he thought about it, because he didn't think of Cam as the most passionate person in the world. He kind of expected him to be deliberate about kissing... affectionate, yeah, but not hot and sexy and inviting.

Which he was, most of the time. And, okay, Hunter had been watching him play the tease during performances for months. But that wasn't... Cam, it wasn't all of Cam, somehow. It wasn't the guy who let Hunter turn on the game while he was grading papers, or the guy who drove him to store when his arm was in a cast, or the one who bought pink mice for his cat because "she doesn't like the blue ones as much."

This was that Cam. The one who wanted to kiss because kissing was nice, because it was fun all by itself, not because it led to something else. The one who said "thank you" because Hunter had bought him a rose wrapped in cheap plastic at a gas station on the way to his apartment. The one who stopped obsessing over his cat long enough to notice that Hunter was uncomfortable about something, and didn't roll his eyes when he found out what it was.

Cam drew back too soon, taking the rose with him when he went. Hunter didn't say anything, watching him set it down on the bureau before he opened the closet. While he rummaged around for something in there, Hunter decided he'd better figure out where Heather was so they didn't squish her by moving the furniture around.

Crouching down, he stared into the darkness under the bed until he identified a shadow that didn't look boxy or computer shaped. "Hey, how much of this stuff are we gonna mess up if we actually move this thing?" he asked, sitting up again.

"I'll move some of it first," Cam said, offering him the aforementioned curtain rod. "Your weapon."

Hunter smirked. "Should have brought my bo."

Cam pushed a surprising amount of stuff out from under the bed in just a minute or two. Even the space under his bed was organized, apparently. He lined it up on the floor in the same order that he'd pulled it out, then sat back and gave the bed a token glare. "You're not staying under there," he told it.

It finally occurred to Hunter to close the bedroom door. All they needed was for the cat to come streaking out and hide somewhere else equally inconvenient. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Let's just get it away from the walls," Cam said with a sigh. "At least then her hiding places will be reduced."

The curtain rod ended up being unnecessary. The moment the bed started to shift, Heather came shooting out from underneath and made a beeline for the door. She cowered in the corner when she realized she wasn't going to be able to escape that way, and Cam made soothing noises while he approached. Her tail was so bushy she looked like she was dragging around a feather duster, but she didn't try to run from him.

Instead she sank down to her stomach on the floor and clung to the carpet when he tried to pick her up. It sounded like he was tearing staples out of the carpet as he pulled her loose. "It's okay," Cam murmured, scooping the cat into his arms and flattening her against his chest when she started to struggle. "You'll be fine in the bathroom; it's your favorite room.

"Come on kitty... it's okay," he continued, stepping away from the door and catching Hunter's eye. Hunter opened the door for him and Cam carried his only mildly protesting cat off to the bathroom.

Hunter leaned against the doorframe and watched Cam close her in. "You're fine," he was telling Heather. "You have water, you have food... try not to shred anything while we're gone, all right?"

"Maybe better if she doesn't have food," Hunter pointed out. "She might be hungry enough to eat a pill when we get back."

Cam gave him a look that probably meant "you're a horrible cat-torturing person," but he did go back to remove the cat food from the bathroom. Hunter tried to make up for it by getting one of the pink mice from the kitchen drawer and handing it to Cam when he came out. Cam looked a little less convinced of his sadism.

"So, you ready?" Hunter asked, glancing at the digital clock next to the sink. He figured that the less time they stayed in the apartment, the less likely Cam was to start feeling guilty about trapping his cat in the bathroom.

"A new shirt wouldn't hurt," Cam said with a sigh. "Cat hair is disproportionately drawn to black clothing."

Especially when the cat in question was being captured and restrained against it. Hunter didn't say it, but he was thinking it. He was also thinking that he wouldn't mind watching Cam change his shirt, but maybe he shouldn't push it so he let Cam disappear into the bedroom without protest.

He hadn't forgotten Cam's condition from the night before. "Would you still go out with me if we weren't having sex?" Yeah, obviously. According to Cam, people had thought they were dating for years, and there hadn't been any sex involved.

The problem was Cam's insistence that he wanted it that way. Hunter had believed that for a long time before a couple of lesbians had practically dared Cam to get it on with Hunter in the middle of a dance floor. After that night, he could no longer ignore the way Cam looked at him, or pretend that it meant anything other than it did.

Even now, when Cam swore that all he needed was some space. That sleeping in separate apartments would make things better again. That really, he loved Hunter and he didn't want to get that confused with anything else.

That he didn't want sex.

Hunter had known Cam for a long time. Cam was focused, brilliant, and prone to overachieving. He had an intensity that he brought to everything he did--and most of the time, what he did was work. Everything else was accomplished or dismissed with an efficiency that was really pretty amazing.

Sex wasn't work, and Cam didn't need it. But he wanted it. There was nothing about the way he went after it--with heat and single-minded determination--that let Hunter be convinced otherwise.

Cam came out of the bedroom with the rose in hand, wearing the t-shirt Hunter had given him last year for his birthday. Hunter grinned. Okay, Cam had been wearing jeans before, but the black shirt Heather had ruined had been a little more respectable than the "bikes are better than boys" t-shirt. Cam was now officially dressed more casually than he was, and Hunter was surprised to realize that it had been a while.

"Looking good," he teased, leaning back against the arm of the couch while he watched Cam pull the plastic wrap off of the rose. "You trying to piss off your dad, or what?"

"It's not like we're going out to eat," Cam said over his shoulder. "I can wear whatever I want."

"That wasn't the question," Hunter remarked, amused by his evasion. Cam was rummaging around on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the refrigerator. "You want to bring along your 'I'm not gay but my boyfriend is' shirt just in case?"

Cam paused, and stepping over to the sink with something in his hands, and now Hunter could see that he actually had a vase. Cam owned vases? What kind of guy had vases just lying around his apartment?

"Do they make shirts like that?" Cam was asking.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Now you know what you're getting for Christmas," he informed Cam's back. "You really need to spend more time around gay people."

"You always say that." Cam ran the water in the sink and held the stem of the rose under the tap while he cut it before putting it in its vase. Hunter so wasn't asking. "Which I think is ironic, considering that you're a motocross rider talking to a university student."

"You're a weirdly sheltered university student," Hunter informed him. "It must come from spending all your time in the computer labs."

"You're a weirdly liberal sports star," Cam countered. "And I have no idea where it comes from."

Hunter just smiled and let him have that one. Cam put the vase with the rose in it on the windowsill and claimed he was ready to leave. Hunter didn't move, because Cam's "ready to leave" involved closing windows, turning off lights, and picking up a windbreaker and keys.

By the time they climbed into the truck, it was already 6:35. They were supposed to meet Sensei at six-thirty, which they would have been able to do comfortably if Cam had been ready to go when Hunter showed up. As it was, they weren't gonna make it to the academy before seven.

Hunter didn't expect Sensei to wonder where they were. Cam was the most punctual person he knew, except when it came to dinner with his dad. He was routinely late, to the point where it was predictable, and Hunter knew Sensei had given up on ever seeing them at the time he and Cam agreed on beforehand. He was pretty sure they'd never gotten there when they said they would.

He didn't care. So Cam dragged his feet. He still went, and Sensei seemed to appreciate that. If he didn't want to be on time, that was fine with Hunter. He didn't get anything out of the evening except brownie points with Cam, and he figured he got those no matter when they did or didn't arrive.

So he was kind of taken aback when Shane met them inside the holographic entryway at the Wind Academy wearing his teaching robes and a frown. "Hey, guys," he greeted them briefly. "You're late."

Hunter glanced at Cam, but Cam looked just as surprised and noticeably more annoyed. "Yeah," Hunter agreed, before Cam could answer. "That's pretty typical."

Shane actually cracked a smile at that, and his frown disappeared. "That's what Sensei said. I guess I didn't really believe him. I mean, Cam? Being late?"

"Things happen," Cam informed him. "I'm late sometimes."

"Yeah, and you're not the only one. Sensei's caught up in some class thing," Shane said, ignoring Cam's irritation. "He wanted me to let you know that it could be a while. Like an hour or so."

"An hour from when we were supposed to be here, or an hour from now?" Hunter wanted to know.

At the same time, Cam repeated, "Some class thing?"

Shane grinned. "He's working with some of the transmogriphication students on their demo routine. Said he'd probably be done by seven-thirty, but he'll understand if you don't want to wait."

Hunter looked at Cam again. He hesitated, but he shook his head like the answer had been obvious. "No," he muttered. "We'll wait."

"Hey, no skin off my back either way." Shane held up his hands. "I'll tell him if you don't want to hang around, but it's none of my business, right?"

"You know, making it none of your business doesn't make everything all right," Cam snapped.

Shane took a breath, then--weirdly--looked at Hunter. Hunter just shook his head slightly. No, he wanted to say. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't like being here, he doesn't like seeing you here and having you be everything his dad wanted from him. You push his buttons without even trying. But he wasn't going to embarrass Cam. So he kept his mouth shut.

"Sorry," Cam muttered at last. "I shouldn't have jumped on you like that."

"Hey, it's cool." Shane, to his credit, didn't look as surprised as Hunter felt. "I just figured you'd want me to stay out of anything with your dad."

Cam frowned. "I thought you didn't want Dad to associate you with me."

Shane gave him an odd look. "Dude, everyone here wishes they could be like you. Like, anyone you talk to gains popularity points for weeks afterward--you don't even know, it's crazy. If your dad associates me with you in any way, it's totally a good thing."

Cam was just staring at him. He was obviously too taken aback to say anything.

"Too bad I can't get in on that," Hunter drawled. "I could be the most popular guy around."

Shane actually smirked at him, but Cam spoke before he could. "My dad practically threw me out of this school. Why would anyone want anything to do with me?"

There was a pause. Hunter found Shane looking at him again, but what was he supposed to say? Bad blood? Insecurity? This was Cam's thing, not his. Sure, Sensei had pissed him off... but at the end of the day he knew his family loved him. And that was what mattered. Probably to Cam too.

"Look, Cam," Shane finally said. "I don't know what happened with you and your dad three years ago. All I know is that now, you're the standard he holds everyone else to. And believe me, as far as he's concerned? None of us even come close."

Hunter gave Shane a look of grudging respect. That was pretty good. It even sounded like it might be true--and he figured that had to throw Cam for a loop. Cam was so convinced that he would never be good enough for his father that he couldn't even imagine his father feeling the same thing about him.

"That's hard to believe," Cam muttered at last.

Shane just shrugged. "It's true," he said. He looked ready to change the subject. "So, hey, have you guys seen the new weapons' hut?"

Hunter raised his eyebrows. Now that was his kind of conversation. "There's a new weapons' hut?"

Shane grinned. "Yeah, come on. I'll show you."

So the air ninja led them across the training grounds, coming to a halt in front of an empty area on the far side. He folded his arms and grinned at... nothing. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Hunter looked harder before giving up and glancing at Cam. Cam just shook his head, obviously not getting it either. "Unless it's cloaked," Cam remarked, "I don't know what we're looking at." He sounded a little more subdued than usual.

Shane chuckled. "Yeah, you know!" he crowed. "It's cloaked all right; courtesy of our current techie who definitely doesn't have enough of a life outside the academy. We're still getting used to it--see the line in the grass?"

There was a faint white line, only about three feet long, directly in front of them. "That's the edge of the hut?" Hunter guessed.

"That's the door," Shane answered. "It's usually open."

Hunter noticed that he held out his hand as he walked toward it anyway, probably in case he was wrong. But his hand disappeared just above the white line, and half a second later the rest of his body vanished in flash of light. Just like the holographic entryway at the lake.

"Hey, that's pretty cool," Hunter admitted. He headed for the line, and he saw Cam hanging back. He stopped, giving him a questioning look, but Cam just shook his head.

"I'll follow you," Cam assured him.

With a shrug, Hunter stepped over the white line and suddenly there was a roof over his head and bamboo walls around him. The walls were lined with racks, and the floor had been covered with the reed mats that typified indoor areas at the Wind Academy. He felt a grin spread across his face as he looked around.

"Yeah," he drawled, catching Shane's eye. "That's definitely cool."

"Right?" Shane agreed. "Cale's been working on the holographic generator since, I dunno, spring at least. He got special permission to study the academy entryway and everything."

Everything outside the hut was still visible, and Hunter could see Cam walking toward them when he turned around. He stepped through the door as though he knew exactly what he was walking into. There was no flash of light from this side, and Cam looked around with only mild interest when he found himself inside the weapons' hut.

"Who did you say designed this?" he wanted to know.

"Cale Parsons did the cloaking," Shane offered. "He's a high school kid who's like, totally obsessed with ninja technology."

"He did this alone?" Cam asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. He's way beyond most of the teachers, anyway, so most of the stuff he wants to know he has to figure out for himself."

Cam was quiet for a moment, considering that.

"What's going on with Ninja Ops?" Hunter asked curiously. "I mean, that's gotta be the center of tech studies, right?"

"Yeah, Cale goes down there sometimes," Shane said. "He and Sensei are pretty much the only ones, though. At least I think Sensei goes down there. He closed it a couple of years ago, after--well, when there wasn't anyone going in and out all day."

The hesitation was brief but obvious to all of them, since they knew perfectly well what he meant. Sensei had closed Ninja Ops when Cam left, because there wasn't any other reason to keep the place open. Hunter wondered if the equipment inside was shut down or just dormant, waiting for Cale to wander through in his spare time.

"Anyway," Shane said quickly, "I thought you guys would like to see this. I've gotta go, so... I guess I'll see you around."

It came out more like a question than a statement. "Yeah, sure," Hunter agreed, so Cam wouldn't have to say anything. He offered his hand, and Shane clasped it without hesitation. "Thanks for showing us around."

Then Cam surprised him by adding, "See you later, Shane."

Shane grinned. "See ya," he repeated. He lifted one hand as he turned toward the door, waving once as he stepped through and headed back across the training fields. It was a casual gesture that made him look very much at home here.

Hunter waited until he realized that Cam was totally preoccupied and had no intention of leaving yet. Then he wandered around the hut, inspecting the racks and peering outside. He wondered how far around the hut the cloak extended. Could he walk up to it from the back and disappear, too? Could he walk out the door and stay invisible if he was right up against the outside of the hut?

"Is it just the hut that's invisible?" he asked abruptly. "Or is it a specific amount of space that just happens to include the hut?"

"I don't know." Cam's tone was absent, but he looked around as though the question made him curious too. "Probably a certain amount of space, but that space may be defined by parts of the hut."

Hunter turned to look at him, wondering what he was thinking about. "And some guy just built this, huh?"

"He probably worked off the design of the holographic entryway," Cam offered, and Hunter blinked. Then he thought maybe Cam had still been outside when Shane mentioned that.

"Does the cloak keep people outside from hearing what goes on in here?" he wanted to know. "Like, we're not just invisible, but we're un-hearable too?"

Cam shrugged. "It would stand to reason. That's the way the holographic entryway works, anyway. Did you and Shane talk at all before I came in?"

"Yeah. I said it was cool, and he agreed."

"Then yes, the cloak retains sound too," Cam said with a small, inexplicable smile. "Because I didn't hear anything after you went through."

Hunter nodded, watching Cam. He was looking around the hut again, but he looked back at Hunter when there was no reply. "What?" Cam asked.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. Then something occurred to him. "Just wondering if your dad will be able to find us here."

"I'm sure he can find us anywhere on campus." For once, Cam didn't look annoyed about it. "But it would probably weird him out less if we weren't somewhere totally private when he does."

Hunter smirked. "So," he prompted. "That an argument for staying or going?"

Cam's lips twitched. "Going," he said reluctantly. "I guess."

"Yeah?" Hunter kept his eyes on Cam as he approached and Cam actually smiled. Hunter's hand landed on his shoulder, and Cam allowed his slow kiss like he wanted Sensei to walk through that door. Or maybe just like he wanted Hunter. And that was fine too.

"Okay," Hunter said at last, letting him go. "Lead the way."

The hut disappeared behind them the moment they stepped through the door. Cam turned to give the space a last critical look, and Hunter turned to watch. "Still impressed?" he asked, when Cam shrugged and turned away again.

Cam raised an eyebrow. "I never said I was impressed."

"Yeah, but you are," Hunter teased. "I can tell."

Cam shrugged again, but he didn't deny it. "I wouldn't mind seeing what else Cale Parsons can do," he admitted.

"Sounds like Sensei probably knows something about him," Hunter offered. "Could always ask him."

"If he ever gets done with his class," Cam grumbled.

Hunter thought the safest answer to that was probably no answer at all.

He did suggest going to Sensei's place to wait for him, but Cam didn't seem to like that idea. And when Hunter thought about it, okay, it made some sense. If Cam had been living in Ninja Ops for the year before he moved out, maybe he had never moved back in with his father after college, which would mean they hadn't lived together for... well, a while. Ten years, give or take. Maybe he didn't feel comfortable just walking into his dad's space after all that time.

So they ended up outside Sensei's office, which was actually kind of nice. Cam's father had a whole entryway set up for visitors, with a low table and knee cushions and calligraphy on the walls. The lights were already on when they got there, and Cam settled down to wait without comment. Hunter wandered around, inspecting the room and its contents with idle curiosity.

Cam didn't say anything unless Hunter asked him a direct question--about the room, about its furnishings, about transmogriphication classes. Funny... he'd never expected to be the chatty one in a relationship. He tried the door to Sensei's office, just for the entertainment value.

The door opened easily. He wasn't sure whether he should have expected that or not. He peered inside, the light from the entryway making it easy enough to see the general layout. Hmm. It was a large room, with windows on the side and cushions arranged in a circle on the floor. Did Sensei hold a lot of meetings here?

"What are you doing?" Cam demanded from behind him.

"Looking around," Hunter answered. There was a lightswitch next to the door, and he hit it without really thinking. Books and files lined the wall opposite the windows. He thought there were pictures propped up on the shelves too, and he stepped into the room curiously.

"Hunter." Cam sounded exasperated. Didn't sound like he'd moved from his place on the floor, though. "That's the head of the Wind Academy's office that you're trespassing in."

"Nah," Hunter countered. He raised his voice enough that Cam could still hear him as he made his way across the room. "It's your dad's office, and I'm just visiting."

There were animal designs on the walls--more than just the element symbols that Wind ninjas wore, although those were there too. He wondered about that. Were they old symbols? New ones? Maybe symbols from other academies?

There were in fact pictures on the library wall. Mostly photographs of Japanese looking people, some distinctly old looking and all of them framed. There were some sketches, too, charcoal, maybe, but he didn't know much about that. He smiled a little when he found the one that had been in Ninja Ops while they were Rangers: young Kanoi Watanabe, with his new wife and baby Cameron.

Chronological order, he wondered, looking down the line? Family history? The next picture was of Cam's graduation... first? Or second? He studied the picture for a moment before the last frame caught his eye.

It was him. He stared at it, startled to see his own face looking out at him from a picture frame. Sensei Omino had a framed picture of him and Blake when they were kids, both of them wearing their ninja uniforms and looking way too serious, but this was... recent. This was him and Cam performing at Blake's wedding reception. After the song--after they'd kissed--when Hunter had wrapped his arm around Cam's shoulder and turned to wave at the crowd.

"Hey, Cam," he called, not taking his eyes off of the picture. "Come look at this."

He heard a loud sigh from the direction of the door. "What are you doing?" Cam repeated, even as he paced across the room to join him.

Hunter ignored a question that was as obvious now as it had been the first time. "Look," he said, nodding to the picture.

Cam looked. He kept looking for several seconds, actually, and then his eyes flicked over the rest of the pictures before returning to settle on the last one. "I wonder how he got that," he said at last. "He doesn't have a camera."

"Tori's friend posted the wedding pictures online," Hunter reminded him. "There's supposed to be some website somewhere where you can see them."

"There is," Cam agreed. "But you haven't been there, and you were the best man. My dad can barely check his e-mail. You really think he went on the dreaded internet and successfully located a password-protected website?"

"I did not," Sensei's voice said from behind them.

They both turned quickly, and Hunter tried to measure Sensei's reaction. It was as hard as it had ever been, though, and he gave up. He was more interested in Cam's total calm when facing his dad. For all of his complaints about trespassing, he didn't look even remotely guilty right now. Their impassive expressions were like mirror images.

"In fact," Sensei continued, "it was Tori who sent me that picture. By mail, I might add, along with a thank-you note for their wedding gift."

"Tori did that, huh?" Hunter exchanged glances with Cam. He was going to have a little chat with Tori later.

"She did so at my request," Sensei added calmly. "After I admitted that I am not particularly proficient when it comes to the internet."

"I could have done that for you, Dad," Cam said quietly.

Sensei hesitated, as though he'd just realized he'd said something wrong. "I didn't want to bother you with something so unimportant," he said at last.

The fact that he had framed and displayed the picture implied that it was pretty important, but Hunter didn't see any reason to give him a hard time when Sensei was obviously making an effort. Apparently Cam felt the same way, because he let it slide too. "Well, I'm glad you got the picture you wanted," he said instead. "I didn't think that would be the one."

"Oh?" Sensei inquired, and Cam gave Hunter a helpless look.

"It's just that you seemed kind of... surprised, last time we were here," Hunter supplied. "When we told you we were... y'know. Together."

The hint of a smile touched Sensei's face at that, which frankly was better than any other reaction Hunter could have hoped for. "Surprised that you told me, perhaps," he allowed. "I had previously assumed that it was my responsibility to determine the status of your relationship for myself."

They looked at each other again, just a quick glance. "Why would you think that?" Cam asked neutrally.

Sensei paused again, and Hunter could practically see him considering his words. The question was kind of a challenge, but then, Sensei had invited it by implying that they didn't tell him anything. Not for the first time, Hunter wished he hadn't left those Power Bars in the truck, 'cause it didn't look like they were getting dinner anytime soon.

"I had thought you might already be seeing each other," Sensei said at last. "If only because Hunter accompanied you to the academy on Christmas Eve, and I am aware that he usually has other plans."

Hunter stared at him. He was never going to hear the end of this, was he. "You thought we'd been dating since Christmas?" he blurted out.

Sensei looked like he was trying not to look amused. "It is not like Cameron to spend so much time unattached," he pointed out. "And you're the only person he's talked about for more than a year."

Hunter couldn't help smirking at Cam, who just rolled his eyes in return. "You're high maintenance," Cam informed him. "Don't read too much into it."

"Hey," Hunter complained. "You got that line from Jules, didn't you."

"No," Cam said. "You got it from Jules. I got it from you."

Sensei was just standing there, waiting for them to notice him again. And maybe, Hunter thought, he wasn't totally uncomfortable, the way he'd figured last time. Maybe he just didn't know what to say, so he was keeping his mouth shut. There was, after all, a difference between uncomfortable and quiet.

"You're not the only one," Hunter said to Sensei, figuring that he might do better to just ignore Cam. "It turns out half our friends thought the same thing."

"Which I knew," Cam interrupted. "Mr. Observant here is apparently the only one who didn't."

"You know," Hunter told him, "I try to ignore you, and it never works. Why is that?"

"Because I don't appreciate it," Cam said. A statement of fact--nothing more and nothing less. It was a typically straightforward, Cam-like thing to say... when they were talking about anything but their relationship. Hunter didn't know what to say.

"Is there anything else about my office that I can explain to you while we're here?" Sensei inquired politely.

"Sorry, Dad." Cam did sound apologetic, but the look he gave Hunter was annoyed. "My boyfriend doesn't know how to sit still."

Hey. Cam had just called him his boyfriend. Hunter tried to look repentant, but he only succeeded in grinning. Cause hey, he liked being Cam's boyfriend. And if he had to take the blame for something that was, in all fairness, his fault, then so be it.

"Yes," Sensei was saying. "I'm acquainted with this phenomenon."

Hunter gave him a suspicious look. "Hey," he objected. "Wait a minute."

Sensei returned the look with a vaguely curious expression, like he couldn't imagine what Hunter was protesting. Cam smiled, though, and Hunter figured that made it worth it. "Fine, nothing," he muttered. "Look, are we going to eat ever?"

For some reason, that made Cam and his father trade amused glances. Hunter narrowed his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He supposed if they had to bond over him, well, at least they were bonding. Sort of.

It was Sensei who answered the question, which was good since he was really the one who knew. "I believe dinner is the most pressing item on the agenda," he said, with his usual indirectness. "I hope Shane found you and delivered the message I gave him before he left?"

"We saw Shane as soon as we got here," Cam agreed. "He said you got held up in the transmogriphication class."

"Indeed," Sensei said, with something like a sigh. "I hope he also told you that I didn't expect you to wait if you didn't want to?"

"Yeah, he did," Hunter interjected. "It was cool. We were kind of late too."

"Oh?" Sensei gave them a look of polite interest, as though it was as much of a surprise to him as he pretended it had been every other time. "It was nothing serious, I hope?"

"Heather's sick," Cam said. His long-suffering sigh was exactly like his father's. "She's harder to treat than she was to diagnose."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Sensei did look concerned, and Hunter could see this turning into another big thing. "Will she be all right?"

"Look, I hate to say this," he put in, "but could we at least walk in the direction of food while we do this? My lunch was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and that was a long time ago." He conveniently didn't mention that he'd had something to eat before leaving his apartment.

Cam and his father exchanged another look, and Hunter suddenly wondered if he could survive having the two of them on joking terms again. But Sensei gestured toward the door, and Cam asked as an aside, "Do they really let three-year-olds have jelly? I would have thought the stain potential would be prohibitive."

"It's not as bad as paint, and we let them do that," Hunter pointed out.

Cam raised an eyebrow as he stepped out into the entryway. "With smocks, presumably."

Hunter shrugged. "We tell parents not to drop them off in clothes they have to keep clean."

"Yes," Cam added, as his father followed them. "Heather will be fine. Assuming we can ever get her to take the pills the vet gave me."

And just like that, Hunter was smiling again. Because whether Cam was doing the in-joke thing with his dad or not, it was still "we." Cam's cat would be fine because "we" were taking care of it. It was nice to be included.

Dinner wasn't without weirdness, long pauses, and the awkwardness that maybe they were all kind of getting used to. But it was easier than it had been for a while, and it surprised Hunter to realize that actually there had been dinners like this in the past. Meals that were almost comfortable, where they all had something to talk about and everybody felt like they had something safe to say.

Late spring, he thought. That was when things had been easiest: when Cam was starting a new job and Hunter was getting ready to head out with Factory Blue. They had had the wedding to talk about then, too, and that had taken up a lot of time. This was like that, a little bit. After they discussed Heather's condition in exhaustive detail, Cam talked about his new students and Hunter told funny stories about the kids at the co-op. There was an academy demo coming up, and Sensei alluded to some of the problems with transmogriphication.

Had it gotten weirder after he broke his arm, Hunter wondered suddenly? He knew he hadn't been pleasant company, at least, but now he wondered if the routine the three of them had fallen into had been disturbed by his continued presence. He was supposed to be gone all summer--Sensei had to have expected that, and he hadn't had a meal alone with his son since... well, since Christmas Eve. Maybe he'd been looking forward to that time.

It was the beginning of October now. Not quite the time Hunter would normally have been back, but most of the big shows were over now, and he wasn't really pushing for anything that took him out-of-state anymore. So hey, maybe Sensei was just getting used to him again or something.

He poked Cam about it on the way home. After Cam had said, "Hunter gave it to me," when Sensei commented on his shirt, and his dad had replied dryly, "I wouldn't have guessed." After Sensei had suggested salmon for Cam's cat and Cam had said, "Believe me, even tuna would be gourmet fare for a mouser like her." After Hunter had wished Sensei good luck with demo preparations and Sensei had invited them both for the third time and Cam had said, yeah, they might be able to come.

After they were safely in the truck and headed down the mountain, and they had agreed on a place that was probably still open and would definitely have cat treats, Hunter tapped his thumb on the steering wheel and remarked, "That went well."

"Mmm," Cam agreed noncommittally. He was staring out the window, apparently still lost in thought over the appropriate menu for an anti-pill cat.

"Y'know..." Hunter tried again. "If I ever made things harder for you--y'know, with your dad--well... I didn't mean to."

He saw Cam's head turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. "What?" Cam sounded surprised. Hunter thought that now he had his attention.

"I was just thinking," Hunter offered carefully. "He hasn't really had time alone with you since I started coming to dinner with you."

"That was deliberate." Cam sounded amused, which Hunter didn't really get. "If you remember, the reason you offered to come in the first place was because I couldn't handle being along with him for an entire evening."

"Yeah, well." Hunter shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm just saying, if you ever want me to, I dunno, do something else instead, just let me know."

"I want you to come," Cam said firmly. "I want you to always come."

The vehemence with which he said it took Hunter by surprise, and he found himself smiling a little. "Hey, what do you know?" he teased before he thought. "You can tell me what you want!"

There was silence from the other side of the truck, and Hunter cursed himself for it. He should have known better than to bring that up again. Geez, was he trying to piss Cam off? Failed with the father, better luck with the son?

"I shouldn't have said that," he muttered. It was half-hearted at best, partly because he'd meant it and partly because he knew apologizing at this point wouldn't do any good.

The last time they'd had this argument, he'd totally lost it. The last time they'd had this argument, Cam had hauled off and socked him when Hunter forced him to turn around. The last time, Cam had thrown him out and they hadn't spoken to each other for a week afterward.

This time Cam said quietly, "It's okay."

Hunter swallowed his protest, because it wasn't okay and he didn't like seeing Cam miserable especially when Cam was doing it to himself. But he didn't say anything, because if Cam was willing to forgive him for who he was then he'd damn well better be willing to do the same for Cam. Fair trade, right?

Neither of them said anything until it came time to pick out food for Heather. That was basically a car wreck. Between Cam, who was willing to try pretty much anything to make his cat happy, and Hunter, who was trying to get back on Cam's good side by pointing out anything he missed, they ended up with enough food to feed a human being for days. They had every kind of seafood that came in a can (Hunter did draw the line at buying fresh seafood for a cat who didn't even know what tuna was), and a selection of all baby foods that included meat.

"You're sure cats eat baby food?" Hunter asked, while they were waiting at the checkout.

"Heather eats dead bugs off of the windowsill," Cam reminded him. "I'm pretty sure she won't turn up her nose at Gerber's 'Turkey & Veal'."

So they took home one of Cam's canvas grocery bags full of food, a bag that was both heavy and bulky but at least not in danger of tearing from the weight. Sage's hippie influence on Cam's life continued. The clinking noise was annoying, but Hunter wasn't the one carrying it up the stairs so he didn't say anything.

There were no horrible sounds from the bathroom when Cam turned the lights on in the apartment and Hunter closed the door behind them. Hunter figured that was a good sign. Cam, of course, dropped the bag on the counter island and headed straight for the bathroom.

No cat emerged when he opened the door. Hunter heard Cam call her name, then there was a rustling sound and a quiet exclamation. Hunter crowded into the bathroom behind Cam, looking where he pointed and raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Heather was curled up in the shower, on top of the drain, with her tail curled over her paws and her eyes closed. She had to know they were there, but she was definitely Not Acknowledging them. "That's pathetically cute," Hunter told Cam under his breath.

He saw Cam's lips quirk in agreement. "She'll probably come out on her own if we leave the door open," Cam murmured. "I'll go get her some food."

Hunter couldn't tell if it was the can opener of the smell of fish, but Heather appeared in the kitchen area within seconds of the salmon being opened. She wound herself around Cam's legs as if all had been forgiven. Cam looked down every other second and avoided stepping on her with practiced ease.

He had poured off the juice into a dish and was emptying Heather's regular food bowl in preparation for canned fish when she got impatient. She leapt onto the counter and started sniffing around. Cam was standing right there, but for once he just watched, waiting to see what she would do.

Heather ignored the open can and turned her investigative little nose on the dish of salmon juice. When she stuck her head the rest of the way in and started to lap cutely at the juice, Cam caught Hunter's eye. "If you hold the cat, I'll grind up a pill," he said simply.

Luckily, "grinding" a pill consisted of sticking it between two spoons and pushing. Luckily because Heather was not particularly happy about being held when a kitty delicacy was two feet from her face. Cam dumped the pill dust into the dish and stirred, and Hunter let Heather go when she started seriously struggling. He let her go to the floor, anyway, where she promptly went up on her hind legs and leaned her front paws against the cupboard, sniffing insistently in the direction of the counter.

Cam set the dish down on the floor next to her. "Drink up," he told her, but she turned out not to need so much encouragement.

Hunter watched Cam watch her for a moment, then turned to grab a tupperware container out of the drawer. He put the open can inside and covered it before sticking it in the refrigerator, then started pulling out the other cans and jars and stacking them at the back of the counter. Heather's personal kitty pantry, he thought, amused.

Cam was crouching on the floor now, peering into the bowl while Heather licked it clean. "That was surprisingly easy," he remarked, when Heather lifted her head and started to look around for more. "I'm kind of surprised that you just solved my cat problem without ever having owned a pet."

Hunter leaned back against the refrigerator and watched Cam idly. "Yeah, well, turns out that a lot of the skills you learn by living with a younger brother can be applied to pets too," he said with a grin.

Cam looked up at that, smiling as he got to his feet. "You'd think I'd have an advantage," he said thoughtfully. "After all, I took care of a family member and a guinea pig at the same time."

"A guinea pig that wears clothes and tells you to eat balanced meals doesn't count as anything but seriously messed," Hunter replied.

"You've just described my entire family experience in two words," Cam declared. "See why I stick to cats?"

"Yeah, I can really see you as the crazy old guy with the cats," Hunter teased.

"There are worse things," Cam maintained, setting Heather's dish in the sink and running the water over it.

"There are better things," Hunter countered, watching him stoop to pat the pretending-to-be-starving-and-pathetic cat one more time.

Cam made as if he was going for the refrigerator, but he stopped just when Hunter straightened to get out of his way. "Two crazy old guys with cats?" he suggested with a hint of humor.

Hunter flashed a smile at him and let him get a little closer. "I always kind of wanted kids," he said lightly.

Cam was reaching for him now, hands already on his waist as he leaned in for a kiss. "As long as they don't torture the cats," he murmured. Then his mouth was on Hunter's, and really, that was a good enough answer for now.

It was a slow kiss, sweet and sappy. It made him smile. It was good to have Cam so close, to just reach out and hold onto his shoulders, to slide his fingers up around his neck and get distracted from kissing and to have it be okay. Touching was good too. Cam didn't mind. And he didn't stop kissing either, which was charming and flattering and very, very comfortable.

"Do you want to stay?" Cam murmured a moment later, which Hunter knew was strange but didn't immediately remember why. Then he added, "To watch the game?" which was strange in a whole different way.

Hunter drew back a little to look at him. "How do you know there's a game on?" he asked. He ran his thumb across the outside of Cam's ear, because hey, no reason not to touch just because they weren't kissing.

Cam gave him a look that was just asking to have the breath taken away from him. It was amused and exasperated in equal and relatively small parts, but mostly it was just... fond. Affectionate. Like Hunter was seeing exactly what he was thinking, and it was the best thing he could have asked for.

"There's always a game on," Cam said patiently. "You were over here constantly this summer, and believe me, I've learned."

That made Hunter chuckle. "You don't even know who's playing, do you."

"Are you kidding?" Cam's expression didn't change. "I don't even know what sport is on now."

Hunter kissed him, because he was just that funny and at least one of them deserved a kiss for that. "I have a better idea," he whispered, turning his head to nuzzle Cam's hair. "Let's skip the game and just make out on the couch."

"Okay," Cam agreed, surprising him a little 'cause he had been ready to pretend it was a joke if Cam glared at him for it.

"Although..." He drew back, unable to resist. "I'd kinda like to know what the score is."

Cam sighed. "I did say you could turn it on, you know."

Hunter grinned at him. "I'll meet you on the couch."

So Cam finished washing Heather's dish, put some regular cat food back in it, and Hunter turned away from the TV long enough to see her turn up her nose and give Cam the Hopeful Kitty look. Like, "I know you didn't really mean to give me the same old stuff..." But Cam just shook his head and put her dish back in the bathroom, while Heather waited by the sink like an open can of seafood might just fall at her feet if she wished hard enough.

Hunter found the game he was looking for while it was in a commercial, which was annoying but convenient in its own way. Because it meant that he could pick up the remote and head for the couch without missing anything. Even beat Cam there, and that mattered because then he could steal Cam's stupid throw pillow and not so subtly imply that Cam should use him instead.

Cam didn't bother with subtleties. He made his approach look easy and casual, to the point where Hunter actually leaned around him to adjust the volume on the TV before he realized what Cam was doing. Then it was too late, as Cam braced one knee on the front of the couch and swung his other leg over Hunter's. Cam leaned in and their mouths met, thighs rubbing against each other as hands cupped his face and long fingers spidered across his skin to bury themselves in his hair.

An involuntary moan escaped, released in the rush of sensation, and Hunter didn't even care because he could feel Cam's arms bump against his shoulders and the tongue that teased his lips was welcome here anytime. He opened his mouth and lifted his hands to run them blindly across Cam's chest, feeling the cotton t-shirt wrinkle and pull under his fingers. Cam shifted and his throat closed up, choking off any sound he might have made as the kiss deepened.

Then Cam was letting go, not that he could tell with the way he kept moving like that, his knee sliding closer and his mouth moving lower and Hunter let his head fall back against the couch, breathless under the sensory assault. He could feel Cam's lips on his jaw, his neck, mouthing his skin, as he stared unseeing at the ceiling and tried not to close his eyes. Because the moment he closed his eyes he would give in to the pressure against his thigh and move and Cam's knee would still be between his legs--

He groaned softly as a tongue flicked across his collarbone, and he turned his head toward the TV with an effort. Cam seemed to take that as an invitation, mouth latching onto bare skin without mercy, and Hunter's hands clenched restlessly on his t-shirt. It took several drawn-out seconds of staring to determine that the game was, in fact, back on, and another long moment to remember what the numbers on the screen meant.

"Hey," he whispered, gasping when Cam shifted again and wondering wildly how he could be sitting on Hunter's leg without moving more than he already had. "Check it out..."

He almost forgot what he was going to say when Cam's hands found his waist and teased the ticklish zone beneath his ribs. "It's seven to three," he panted, still staring at he TV without seeing a damn thing. "We're winning."

Cam made an uninterpretable sound as he shifted his weight to the back of the couch and buried his shoulder against Hunter's side. His mouth finally separated from Hunter's skin long enough to mutter, "You're such a jerk." His hand stayed on Hunter's stomach, fingers teasing through his t-shirt, but at least now he could maybe think enough to keep his clothes on.

"Oh yeah," Hunter mumbled, trailing his fingers over Cam's arm as he tried to get his breathing under control. His hand stilled when Cam's fingers caught on the waistband of his pants, but they just brushed past and resumed their idle tickling. "I'm really the jerk here."

Cam didn't answer, and Hunter turned to press a kiss to the top of Cam's head. He needed the contact, wanted anything that would bring them closer together, but they weren't nearly far enough apart. He refused to move.

Cam's hair was obnoxiously clean and softer than it had any right to be. He kissed it again and Cam shifted in his embrace. "If you lick my hair again I'll laugh at you," Cam muttered.

Hunter smirked. "If you insist," he murmured, giving Cam's hair a gentle swipe with his tongue. He liked it against his lips better, but a challenge was a challenge. "Happy now?"

"Jerk," Cam echoed sullenly.

Pressed up against his side like he was a human body pillow, Cam probably wasn't as pissed as he was pretending to be. But geez, no fair jumping a guy who wasn't allowed to have sex with you for an unspecified amount of time. "Back at you," Hunter told him, and maybe Cam got it because he didn't answer.

He stared at the TV for a long time after that, willing his body to get over the joyride and just quit it already. It didn't really work, but it wasn't like he had to hide anything from Cam. So he was breathing hard, and he was glad he wasn't wearing jeans, and if Cam didn't stop tickling him he was going to go crazy so he grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together firmly.

It didn't take him long to start stroking Cam's fingers with his thumb, but he didn't hear any complaints. Finally, Cam shifted enough that he was lying back against Hunter, head on his shoulder and his legs stretched out across the couch. Their joined hands rested on Cam's stomach, and he was very aware that Cam's free hand was on his knee. He laid his other arm over Cam's and caressed his wrist idly, trying to keep his eyes focused on the screen.

"You know," Cam said after a while. He, of course, didn't sound at all distracted. "Before the wedding?"

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Hunter made an affirmative sound. No need to specify more than "the wedding." It was burned into his memory and he didn't think anything would ever replace it.

"I never realized you were such a cuddler," Cam continued.

Hunter's fingers stilled on his skin. "Excuse me?" he demanded. It was a perfectly Cam thing to say, and he didn't realize it until he'd already said the words. So he added quickly, "I do not cuddle!"

"Oh?" Cam's voice was dry, and in that moment he sounded eerily like Sensei. He squeezed their joined hands pointedly, and Hunter rolled his eyes in self-defense.

"This isn't cuddling," he informed Cam. "This is stroking." He ran his fingers up Cam's arm for emphasis. "It's sexy."

"It's cuddling," Cam said firmly. "And it's comforting."

Now see, that was just insulting. "Do you want to sit at the other end of the couch?" Hunter demanded.

Cam didn't move. His voice was quieter when he spoke. "I didn't say I didn't want comforting," he remarked evenly.

There was nothing he could say to that, so Hunter wrapped his fingers around Cam's wrist and kissed his head again. He could do comforting for Cam. He thought he could do anything Cam wanted, if he knew what it was. But it was still just a little bit...

Old. Too familiar, maybe. Or too girly. Too gay? He didn't know what it was, and he thought it was kind of weird that he was trying to figure it out. He could do comforting for Cam. But if his sex appeal had just been dissed... well, that was over the line.

He bided his time. He waited through another commercial, lazily trailing his fingers across Cam's arm like he'd been doing all along. He even rested his head against Cam's for a moment, because hey, if comforting was fine than comforting was fine. But eventually he made his move.

He kept the fingers of his left hand laced through Cam's, but he slid his free hand quickly down to the hem of his t-shirt and swept it up. He felt Cam's breath hitch as his hand settled on the bare skin of his stomach, and he just smiled. Keeping his gaze on the TV, he rubbed his hand in gentle circles, pushing their joined hands higher and brushing his fingers against Cam's jeans.

He heard Cam swallow. Cam's fingers were a little tighter where they wound through Hunter's, and maybe he didn't even realize it. He didn't move otherwise.

"So," Hunter said softly, keeping his voice light, "this isn't sexy?"

"No," Cam answered instantly. He was pretending to watch the TV too, and there was no way Hunter was buying that. Cam probably couldn't even tell who was playing.

He pulled his hand out from under Cam's shirt, deliberately catching his fingers on Cam's jeans as he went. But he was aiming higher, and he felt Cam relax minutely just before his hand found its new home on his chest. Dragging his fingernails across Cam's t-shirt, he turned his hand over and trailed the backs of his fingers up Cam's neck. Cam turned his head, just a little, and Hunter ignored him.

He stuck his finger in his mouth and then ran it over the back of Cam's ear. Leaning back, he tilted his head to blow gently on the damp skin, and that was when he knew he was on to something because Cam shivered. His whole body trembled, and his hand on Hunter's knee tightened reflexively. But he still didn't say anything.

"This isn't sexy?" Hunter repeated, lowering his voice. He trailed his fingers down to Cam's collar and under his shirt again, from the top instead of the bottom. He found what he was looking for and he didn't pinch, because Cam hated that, but he teased until Cam squirmed under the assault.

"No," Cam maintained, but his voice was higher and a little less controlled this time. "It's very--nice," and the last word was a hiss because Hunter's left hand had let go of his and was making its way into his jeans.

Cam shifted his weight, his now free hand following Hunter's automatically, and when he'd gotten as far as he could without undoing Cam's jeans he squeezed and Cam's entire body jerked. "Did I say you could grope me?" he gasped.

"Do I need permission?" Hunter murmured, turning as best he could under Cam's weight to get a better angle on the body in his arms. He pulled both hands free and dropped his head to Cam's ear, licking the outside of it as he dragged his fingers up Cam's mostly bare chest. His shirt was hiked up so high he might as well not have been wearing it, and he arched into the touch like he'd totally forgotten this wasn't supposed to be sexy.

"No," Cam said breathlessly, twisting a little as Hunter tried to resettle himself. "You don't. You don't need permission."

Mission accomplished, Hunter thought, mouthing Cam's earlobe and reaching for his jeans again. He didn't even try to get under them this time, just rested his hand on the outside and rubbed carefully. Cam bucked, a sound escaping that was definitely not coherent and sounded maybe a little desperate, and then Hunter didn't have any more time to think because Cam was twisting and climbing on top of him and there was nothing else in the world.

He didn't know when it finally penetrated his brain that this was bad, because it was clearly a ludicrous idea under the circumstances and so he ignored it for a long time. But Cam had asked him, Cam had said, Cam had said this is what I want, and he couldn't push that aside just because he thought it was a lie. He had to push Cam aside instead.

He swore at his stupid conscience, his body staged an all-out mutiny, and finally he swore out loud because this was fucking nuts--but he pushed. "Wait," he panted, turning into the couch as much as he could to prevent the friction that Cam was just so fucking good at and it really barely helped.

"Cam, stop, cut it out," he gasped, trying not to let the fact that he was getting seriously hot kisses through his shirt turn him on anymore than he already was. And maybe it worked, because he wasn't sure he could be anymore turned on. And maybe it didn't, because Cam was always so happy to prove him wrong.

"God, I'm gonna kill you for this," he muttered, grabbing Cam's hands. He pulled him up and pressed their mouths together hungrily, making sure he got at least one more savage, groan-inducing kiss out of this before it ground to a halt.

When he was sure he had Cam's attention he pulled away. He glared at him with every ounce of agony that stopping was going to cause and snarled, "Cut it out."

Cam made a wordless sound of protest, tugging hard on his arms and almost breaking the grip Hunter held with pained determination. He subsided slowly, catching sight of Hunter's expression, and finally he was just sitting there, pinned in place by an extremely pissed off would-be lover. "What?" he whispered, his voice breaking in the middle.

"You said," Hunter reminded him through gritted teeth, trying without success to ignore the disheveled look of a guy that didn't do disheveled for anyone but him. "You said, you didn't want to do this."

He could see Cam swallow, and then he jerked away like Hunter's touch was suddenly hurting him. "I said, just dating," he mumbled, and the words were anguished and barely audible. "No sex."

"You're fucking crazy!" Hunter howled, scrambling into a more upright position. He was effectively trying to fold his body in on itself. "What's wrong with you!"

"You said it was okay!" Cam shouted back. "Just like that, you said, it was fine!"

"Well it was fine before!" Hunter yelled. "When you were standing three whole feet away on a public street, not when you're lying on top of me in your apartment kissing me like you're a fucking sex god! Then it's not fine! Then it crosses the line from fine to not even remotely anything like fine!"

Cam shoved himself up off the couch so fast he tripped, clumsy and off-balance and that was only fair because Hunter couldn't even think. He made an abortive grab for Cam, this close to yanking him back down and demanding that he face what he'd done--except that he couldn't, and he knew it, and maybe they both knew it. Because Cam would hit him again and they would fight, and so he just shouted in frustration, "I would so kick your ass if you weren't gonna throw me out for it!"

And Cam stumbled into the island, hunching over it with his elbows on the counter and his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook and for one crazy second it was impossible to tell whether he was crying or laughing. Then the second stretched into two, and three, and finally Hunter bit down on his lip and managed to get up and go over.

"Hey," he said roughly, pressing his hands down on the other side of the counter. He pushed harder, willing the coolness into his body, but it was futile effort. "Cam," he said, staring across the island at him. "You gonna share, or what?"

The sound he heard from Cam was definitely not suppressed laughter. Cam pushed his fingers up into his hair, but he covered his face again immediately and he didn't lift his head. No doubt about it, the guy was either crying or trying really hard not to.

There was nothing he could do. He wasn't any good with this emotional crap to begin with, and Cam was a total mystery when it came to the stuff he bottled up inside. Hunter had gotten pretty good at recognizing when there was something going on, but figuring out what it was? Whole different story.

He'd never seen Cam cry.

Seriously, not even once. Not even over his dad. Not over Sage. Not over anything before, after, or in between. This was total "what the fuck" territory, and he had no idea how to handle it.

"Look, if you want me to leave," he began uncertainly.

Cam didn't look up. His voice was broken and muffled and it was really kind of scary because Hunter was in over his head. But the words were clear enough. "I don't want you to leave."

"Okay," Hunter said simply, because if that had been a question then the answer was obvious. "I'll just be over here then. Y'know... talking, to the cat or something."

There was a huff of what might possibly have been amusement, and finally Cam picked his head up off of his hands and swiped them across his eyes like he was trying to hide the gesture but couldn't quite figure out how to do it. Actually, the gesture failed in every way, since it was obvious as hell and also pretty ineffective at drying his face. There had clearly been tears, even if Cam cried the way he did most other things: quietly and apparently very fast.

"It was a stupid thing to say," Cam said softly, his eyes finding Hunter's. "I'm sorry."

Okay, it was a nice apology, but he got the feeling he was going to need to refer back to it later. Which meant he needed to actually understand what Cam was talking about. "What was?"

"That I don't want to sleep with you. I do. I want you. I'm scared it only goes one way. I don't know why."

He looked like those short sentences had been forced out of him. Like they were something he had never meant to say, but now he had to. Like Hunter's reaction was the whole point of him talking. Like he was waiting for judgement.

Hunter searched his expression carefully. His brain really needed to get in gear, here, because lame reassurance obviously wasn't gonna do it. "Why do you think you shouldn't get what you want?" he said bluntly.

Cam just stared at him.

"You let your dad keep you from teaching," Hunter told him. He'd been thinking about it all week: had he had any reason to fight with Cam in the first place? He'd decided that yeah, maybe he had... but he should have put it in words Cam would understand.

Examples. Logic. Rational argument was Cam's native language. It had never been what he was best at.

"Even when you got your badge, you put it in the closet," Hunter continued. Whatever it took, he was going to give it his best shot. "And what about Sage? You let her walk out for zero reason that I ever heard.

"Just now," he added, "you let me shut you down because of some stupid thing you said under totally different circumstances. I don't get it, okay?"

He pressed on even though Cam was looking down at the counter again. "I don't get why you go after things like you're possessed until someone tells you that you can't and then you're just like, all right, fine. Like anyone in the world knows better than you what you can or can't do."

"Sage left because we had sex," Cam said abruptly. He glanced up, caught Hunter's eye, and then his gaze skittered away. "Over Thanksgiving. That's when we broke up."

Hunter frowned. Okay, weird tangent. But hey, he'd always wanted to know, and he hadn't been able to get either one of them to tell him. He wasn't going to argue if Cam suddenly felt like talking about it. "Yeah?"

"We slept late the day after Thanksgiving," Cam muttered. "Everyone else went out shopping. We had the house to ourselves, and she... she wanted to take advantage of it."

He'd thought he wouldn't care. It shouldn't matter who Cam had slept with before him, right? Hell, he'd pretty much known about it while it was happening, so what did it matter if Cam talked about it now? It wasn't like he could be jealous.

He was kind of jealous.

"I wasn't totally--focused," Cam said, like he was forcing a confession. "She kind of figured that out."

Whoa. Wait, he must have missed something there. "You weren't focused?" he repeated incredulously. He'd never known Cam to have trouble focusing on anything, let alone sex. That was ridiculous.

"On her," Cam clarified irritably.

Oh. Well, that was... weird. "Someone else?" he guessed. It was hard to believe, after Cam and Sage had dated for most of that year and had been disgustingly sweet together the entire time.

When Cam grimaced, though, he knew he was right. "How'd she know?" he asked, curiosity piqued. Cam wasn't that vocal, at least not with him, and if he'd been saying things he shouldn't during sex then Hunter wanted to know about it.

Cam sighed. "Well, this is just a wild shot in the dark," he said, "and it probably wasn't any one thing, but it might have been a combination of the fact that I screamed your name and she's not deaf."

He found himself gaping at Cam, and after a few seconds of that he remembered that maybe he should say something. "What?" he demanded. "Are you kidding me?"

He didn't think he meant it, but when Cam just looked back at him he realized that he'd half-expected another punchline. When it sank in that no further reply was forthcoming, he folded his arms and frowned at Cam. "You don't scream my name when we do it."

Cam rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I have neighbors," he snapped. "I really don't think that was the point."

Oh, but Hunter did. He eyed Cam speculatively, wondering what it would take to get him to a neighbor-free zone. Because really... screaming? That sounded fun.

Then his brain caught up with the rest of his body, which was way ahead of him and--he thought--with good reason, and he said slowly, "You broke up with your girlfriend because of me." He studied Cam to make sure it was true, but Cam wasn't looking at him anymore.

"You broke up with your girlfriend because of me," he repeated, "and you didn't tell me?"

Cam met his gaze when he paused, very deliberately, for an answer. "I almost told you," he said quietly. "That was the first time I almost told you."

There was a lot more to their history than Hunter knew. He was beginning to understand that he would have to pry it out of Cam if he ever wanted to know. For now, he could only repeat his original question. "Why do you think you shouldn't get what you want?" he asked softly.

"Because I've never had to work at it!" Cam burst out. "I'm smart, Hunter, and people see that, they recognize it and they do things for me and they give me what I want without me having to ask! It doesn't work that way with you--and believe me, I've tried, I've waited, to see if maybe someday it would, but it didn't."

Cam gave him a pointed look, so he smiled a little ruefully 'cause yeah, he'd missed a lot, hadn't he? Cam must have read that the right way because he was calmer when he added, "I had to put myself on the line for you, and when we--when you... when it wasn't enough," he said determinedly, "I was worried. Because I'd failed, and I don't have much experience with that--do you get it?

"I don't have any practice with failure," Cam continued. "But nothing about me makes you... makes us, any easier, any more likely to succeed. I have to work at it, and I'm not used to it, and it worries me." Cam was staring at him now, like this was the answer to a question he hadn't known he'd asked. "Because what if I want what I want and it's not enough?"

It was the answer, he realized suddenly. Cam had been trying since yesterday, trying to tell him, trying to say what he wanted and what he didn't want in their relationship the way he did with the rest of his life. Because Hunter had yelled at him for not doing it a week ago, and now he was trying, and Hunter was yelling at him for it all over again.

"Cam," he said quietly. "Sometimes you have to... I dunno, hit me over the head with stuff. Okay? I don't always notice what you're doing, or what it means. You have to tell me.

"And if you tell me and I still don't get it," he added, "that's not you, that's not your fault. It's just me, and... y'know, the way I could hang out with you every day and not see... why the thing with Sage--why that happened."

"That I've been in love with you for years?" Cam's tone was dry, and Hunter knew exactly what he was doing. He was pretending he didn't care. "Yes," he continued, "I gathered that you occasionally miss out on some of the details."

"Cam." Hunter wasn't about to let it go. "I want to know, okay?" He studied Cam's face for any sign of rebellion. "How long?"

Cam swallowed, but he didn't look away. "Since the first time I saw you with Charlie."

Hunter had to think about that. Geez, he hadn't been with Charlie since... more than a year, now. At least. When had Cam met him? "New Years?" he guessed. "When was that--the time Charlie and Jules came up for New Years?"

"No," Cam said quietly.

No, Hunter realized. Because Cam had called Jules. That meant he'd already known Jules, and he had to have known Charlie at least as long as he'd known Jules.

"We had dinner together," Cam was saying, and Hunter's eyes widened.

"Shit," he breathed. Cam just waited, and Hunter stared at him. "That summer. The summer you moved out, I came back with Keisha and Jules--"

"And Charlie," Cam finished with him. "At the Asia Buffet. I was trying to get away from the party next door, and you guys were there, feeding each other sushi."

"Shit," Hunter repeated, because he felt it needed to be said. Cam gave him an irritated look that he pretended not to notice. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah," Cam said dryly. "It was."

Hunter just stood there, looking at him, wondering what he was supposed to do now. He had wanted to know, and Cam had told him. Great. Now he felt dumb. "I didn't know," he blurted out.

"Yes," Cam repeated, giving him an odd look. "I realize that."

"No, I mean..." He frowned. Why hadn't he known? Would it have made a difference? How could he have missed something like that? Had he ever made it weird for Cam by not knowing? "I'm sorry," he said at last.

Cam's expression softened. "It's all right," he said quietly. "I could have told you. I didn't."

"Why not?" Hunter wanted to know.

Cam shrugged a little, offering a small smile. "I'm not really your type."

That was a weird thought. But, okay, maybe not totally untrue. "I'm not yours, either," he pointed out. "So what?"

"So the odds of it working are phenomenally low," Cam retorted.

Hunter frowned at him. "Were," he corrected. "The odds were low. But it worked, because look, here we are."

"It's worked so far," Cam said with a sigh. "It's only been a couple of months."

"Wait, no. You don't get to be the voice of doom," Hunter informed him. "You've been on top of this thing for a lot longer than two months, so count that. And don't tell me what is or isn't going to work for me, because I get to decide that, okay? And you work. You won't get rid of me that easy."

Cam stood there, looking across the island at him with his messed up shirt and his sticking up hair and he looked about as close as Hunter had ever seen him. "I'm not trying to get rid of you," he said evenly.

"Could have fooled me," Hunter grumbled, trying not to notice that the combination of sex and vulnerability was really working for Cam. Yeah. Not his type at all. Except as far as his type was clever, funny, and hot. "If you try to break up with me one more time, I'm gonna kick your--" He censored himself at the last second. "Butt."

Cam didn't bother to protest, and that was disturbing all on its own.

"Cam?" He frowned at the troubled look on Cam's face when he lifted his head. "What do I have to do, here?"

A faint smile acknowledged his effort, but Cam still sounded upset when he muttered, "Probably marry me."

Joking, Hunter wondered? Cam had said it like it was a joke, like it was just another way to make fun of himself, but Cam had also said something that Hunter couldn't believe he would ever joke about. Marriage was important to Cam in a way Hunter didn't totally understand.

"Not until we talk about kids," he said at last, watching Cam's face carefully for his response. If it had been a joke, Cam would either smile or roll his eyes and they would just be standing here in the kitchen teasing each other. If it hadn't been--

"You're not serious," Cam said finally.

Hunter considered all possible interpretations of that statement. "Yeah," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Cam. "I think I am."

There was a long pause. "You want kids," Cam said flatly.

"Yeah." What, was that a deal breaker now? It's not like he wanted kids with someone else. "I figure I owe some karma on the adopting thing, right? Plus," he admitted, "I'm totally in favor of skipping at least the first year, because--"

Cam was just staring at him, and Hunter stopped. "What?" he demanded. "I'm just saying. Kids are important."

"Kids," Cam said, like he'd never heard the word before. "How are we talking about kids now?"

"You started it," Hunter grumbled, embarrassed by Cam's apparent disbelief. If he had been joking, this wasn't gonna go down well.

"How!" Cam exclaimed. "How did I start this?"

Hunter kept his mouth shut.

"By saying 'marry me'?" Cam asked after a moment.

Hunter watched him, wondering what was behind that level expression. "I wasn't kidding," he said quietly.

Cam looked back at him steadily. "Neither was I," he replied. For a long moment, that was all he said. Then, finally, he asked, "Kids?" There was a pause. "Really?"

Hunter was careful not to smile. "Kids," he said firmly.

Another pause. "Plural?" Cam wanted to know.

It was Hunter's turn to hesitate. "Negotiable," he said at last.

Cam didn't answer right away. Finally he said, "I need to think about it."

Now he couldn't keep from grinning. "Okay," Hunter agreed. "Let me know."

"You'll be the first," Cam said, his expression already pensive.

So Cam hadn't been kidding about the marrying thing. Which was interesting, because Hunter was pretty sure he remembered that Cam expected to be the one who was proposed to, not the one doing the proposing. Possibly... maybe, he had his own thing to be thinking about right now.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" Cam was asking. "I have some of your clothes, but you probably didn't bring the rest of your stuff--"

"Yeah, because someone was in self-denial mode," Hunter interrupted. "Thanks for involving me in that, by the way."

Cam raised an eyebrow at him. "If you'd rather go home...?"

He trailed off, and Hunter was happy to clarify his position on that plan. "If you try to make me leave this apartment tonight," he informed Cam, "I will personally kill you."

"Well, if it's a safety issue," Cam said with a straight face. "You might as well stay."

Hunter smirked at him until Cam turned away and headed for the door. He watched while Cam turned off the outdoor light and flipped the lock. He watched him pick up the remote from the couch and turn the TV off. And he smiled when Cam tossed an inquiring look in his direction.

"Just thinking," Hunter said, in response to the unspoken question. "I think we should talk more about this screaming my name thing."

"I think we shouldn't," Cam replied immediately.

"This is an argument you're going to win," Hunter admitted, his eyes following Cam toward the bathroom. "But not because you're right."

"Which I am." Cam took this for granted.

"No," Hunter countered. He sauntered over to the door Cam had left open behind him and leaned against it. He wanted to be able to see Cam, even if all he was doing was refilling the cat's water bowl. "But I'm gonna let you win, because if I don't get some tonight, the consequences won't be pretty."

"A win is a win," Cam answered. He set Heather's bowl down, then straightened and caught Hunter's eye. "As long as you realize there isn't going to be any screaming involved."

Hunter smirked at him. "Says you."