PS: I Heart U - Mererid

It's been the longest damn day of my life. Well, at least in a few years. And at least this time it didn't involve Blair drowning or leaving me or exchanging vows in front of people. No, this time it was my dad falling down and breaking a hip. That was at 4am this morning, and now it's near midnight, and I'm finally home.

The loft is dark. Boxes are piled around of all our shit- excuse me, stuff- in various stages of being packed. Blair and I finally got our house, and we've been packing slowly in the evenings and on the weekends. I'm keeping the loft to rent out, or as Blair hopes, for Naomi to stay in when she's in town.

I smell a dinner plate in the oven being kept warm for me, but I'm not hungry. I'm dead tired, and all I want is to curl up in my own bed with my solar powered hairball. So I turn off the oven, take the plate out, and stick it in the fridge. I hang up my coat, check the windows and doors, and head upstairs.

All that one can see of my bed-partner is a bit of dark curls on the pillows. Otherwise, he is an undistinguishable lump under a mound of blankets. I strip, putting things where they belong, and then approach the bed. One must always consider the best approach when attempting to snuggle up against a badger.

He is as fierce in his love as he is with anything else he considers important in life. Education, politics, social services, equal rights… Food. I told him once that I'm not so sure he loves me because I can cook or because I love to eat. Those two things are very important to him. Our new home has a big kitchen with an island in the center that puts the one here in the loft to shame. The previous owner had been a gourmet chef.

He is very fierce about staying warm when he sleeps. You don't steal his covers; you don't turn down the thermostat, and for god's sake, don't bring ice cubes to bed. I swear I still have bruises from that attempt at sexual exploration.

I carefully peel up a layer of blankets, carefully working to find the top sheet and some sign of Blair. He grumbles in his sleep.

"Ssshhh…" I whisper softly. "Just a weary traveler looking for a warm spot."

He mumbles, shifting around, but he doesn't wake up. That's a good sign. I detect a round hint of a knee, and start slipping between the covers. I carefully guide his knee away, not wanting to get a rude nudge in the groin again. I whisper soothingly to him, easing further in.

"Mmmmim?" He mutters finally, scooting towards the warmth of my body. I cup myself protectively, remembering all too well other fateful late night encounters. "God, you've been gone at the hospital all day and you come home horny?" He grumbles, his left hand fumbling down my arm to where I'm protecting myself. As he speaks, his words become clearer.

"Excuse me, sir." I grumble back at him. "I've been kneed in the groin one too many times, climbing into my own freaking bed. I think I have a right to protect myself."

"Ah, poor baby." He doesn't sound the least bit sympathetic. He has some over-sized white t-shirt on for a nightshirt. Otherwise, he seems blessedly free of fabric. "How's your dad?"

"Fine." I sigh as he sniffs my chest, nipping at me like some freaky down wolf cub, and one hand pushes my hand away as he inspects my jewels with his fingertips. "Later, maybe." I mutter, sticking my nose in his hair and sniffing back.

"Did you talk to Stephen?" He asks, adjusting my body the way he wants it. The covers are practically in my face. I have to scoot down and the overwhelming Blair-scent makes my toes curl. The hospital had been hard- the smells, the sounds. Seeing Dad so helpless had really hurt. Blair's left hand stays on my cock, not stroking, mostly just holding.

"Yeah, he's going to get a flight back as soon as he can. Anna-Maria is defending her dissertation next week, plus being less than six weeks from having their first baby…" I shiver, getting out the last of the cold and the stress; it's almost like a heavenly oasis right here in our bed.

There's minimal light, but I squint down at Blair's t-shirt anyway. There's some funny writing on the front of the shirt.

"What are you doing?" He growls at me as I pull the covers down so I can get a better look. There it is, that god-awful t-shirt that Naomi had sent him for his birthday last year. I thought I had thrown the damn thing away.

Blazing across the front, it says in hot pink lettering: "PS I Heart You".

"Off." I growl at him, and start tugging on the nightshirt. He resists, clamping his arms down at his side.

"No!" He shouts up at my face. "You weren't-."

"Off!" I keep tugging and pulling, rolling on top of him. He keeps struggling, but then I finally hear the laughter. I've got the shirt worked up past his hips while he has managed to retain hold of my cock. I stop struggling, and lean over him while he laughs. "You are not wearing this shirt in bed with me."

"Megan…" He puffs, trying to control his humor. "Megan bet me $50 that I couldn't get you to have sex with me in this shirt."

"She's right. I'll give her the $50, now off." I growl deeply, biting the side of his neck. That's usually a turn-on for him, the little pervert.

He complies, the shirt goes flying over the railing, and we settle around each other.

"You know." I say very conversationally. "My penis is very good about staying with me."

"That's nice." He sighs happily, a very solid hold on my cock still after all of this. "I want it to stay with me from now on."

"Well, you can borrow it. But it travels with me." I rub my face in his hair. With his free hand, he strokes my chest. "I'm rather fond of it myself."

"Hmm, we shall see, Mr. Ellison." He mumbles, and I can hear his heart rhythm evening out. "We shall see…"

We have stuff to discuss about my dad later, and we need to decide about hiring a moving van or doing it ourselves. He wants to talk about dogs, and I want to talk about him going back to school. But right now, as far as I'm concerned, I'm never leaving this bed again.

The end.

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Acknowledgments: Thank you to Mary for the beta. Thank you to Patt for the artwork.