Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

for a mile or more, so you'd have a long walk home and miss out on my famous waffles too."
    "You make waffles," he said.
    "My cinnamon roll waffles have caused wrestling matches at church breakfasts."
    "Fine." Alan slumped back. "But there better be coffee."
    "Lilia was in the navy. Her coffee is registered with Poison Control." Or so she liked to say, anyway.
    "A true goddess," Alan muttered. "I'll marry her yet." He fell silent, but strips of streetlight fell on him as I drove so I could see him eating the bar slowly. He wasn't slipping into unconsciousness; he just didn't want to talk to me.
    He looked exhausted, abused and worn out. In contrast I was humming with adrenaline I hadn't used trying to take a metal bar to his assailants. I thought of the picture on my phone and wondered if it would be any use. It was a good, solid little phone, but the camera was garbage. I didn't know if I could ID the jerks without the picture. I didn't know if Alan would.
    "Why do those jerks keep harassing you?" I asked. "They're pretty persistent."
    "Oh, like you haven't wanted to push my face in a few times."
    "Wanted," I said. "Didn't."
    He chuckled just a little. "Kelly Lesniewski is so far in the closet he's in Narnia. He's been after me since I helped sacrifice— 'humiliated'— him at RHPS. My guess is I make him feel things. The other three just join in because they enjoy hurting people. As far as I know."
    "Someone should tell Kelly that pulling the hair of the person you like went out with the third grade."
    "I have." Alan chuckled a little more. "Believe me. I have." He finished the bar and licked two fingers. I tapped the garbage bag hanging from the gearshift and he put the wrapper in it, settled back against the door and folded his arms on his chest. "Wake me when we reach Mexico, Jeeves."
    "As you wish," I said, and he smirked a little.
    When I turned into the driveway, I turned off the lights and crept up it at a crawl. The next-to-last turn flashed incoming headlights across Lilia's bedroom windows, something it had taken me months of "I just thought I'd fix you a midnight snack" to figure out. Alan didn't comment on my driving in the dark; that and his slow steady breaths told me he was asleep as I pulled the truck into my space. I turned the engine off and looked at him.
    He slept curled, his knees pulled up and his feet on the seat towards me, one hand cushioning his face from the window. He looked… sweet. Adorable. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to drive back into town and find four dumb jocks, one at a time. I wanted to carry him into the house, letting him sleep. I wanted to wake him up, to make sure he would wake up and I didn't have to call 911.
    I wanted to touch him.
    For God's sake. The man had just been assaulted. He didn't need a near-stranger touching him in his sleep. He needed a friend to look after him for a bit, and if I couldn't handle that I should march inside and wake Aunt Lilia, not sit in the dark staring at him.
    "Yes," he muttered. "Feel sorry for the poor pitiful gay boy."
    Huh. Easy cure for lusting after him—l et him open his mouth.
    "Actually I was considering if I should wake you up or carry you."
    "Don't even think about it, cowboy."
    "Fine." I picked up my backpack and slid out of the truck, locking the door with my elbow. "Cowboy it is. Burritos for breakfast."
    " Beans, beans, the musical fruit …" he sang as I walked around the truck. "I can walk, Lukas."
    "I know." I stuck close to him as we went up the steps anyway. "But are you ready for the canine swarm?"
    "Oh." He grabbed my arm as I opened the door, pressed against me as the big dogs swirled around us, tails whipping in welcome. Warhol and Crikey usually slept in Lilia's room, but Twiggy, Javert, and Midas were banned just so she had room to sleep in her own bed. Alan clung to me as I escorted him to the guest bathroom. Midas inspected the toilet; Twiggy's tail thumped on the side of the tub. "Wash up, have a look at the damage," I suggested, pulling the dogs back out. "I'll grab you some pajamas."
    "And then will you braid my hair while we talk about boys?"
    "No, but I'll paint your toenails." I closed the door as I left, and trotted up the stairs to grab bedding and search for pajamas that might stay on him.
    The smallest things I had were a Cookie Monster T-shirt my mom had sent me as a joke when I first moved into Lilia's house. It hadn't fit me in a while, but it was Cookie Monster. Then I had a pair of knit