Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

apartment. No sign of Jimmy. His eyes focused on a glass of water in front of him on the coffee table, two little ibuprofen tablets next to it and a small sticky note with one word written in Jimmy's bold block letters: Gym.
    Scott sighed. What went on the night before was still bothering Jimmy or he would have been woken up to the man crawling on him and snuffling into his hair and tickling his ribs. Or he would've woken up over the man's shoulder while being fireman-carried to his bed and dumped in an untidy heap and told the couch would kill him.
    His chest felt tight and his head was throbbing as he sat up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and wishing he could curl up next to his best friend. He took the pills and drank the entire glass of water in two big gulps, but he couldn't force himself to stand up.
    Still sitting in the darkened room nearly an hour later, Scott was letting his emotions roil through him, worrying a lip between his teeth and wishing he could fix it all, or turn back time twenty four hours and change the course of their night.
    Hearing keys in the door and a quiet thud as Jimmy's gym bag hit the floor, Scott turned to look at him. The man smiled, same bright grin, but it didn't quite meet Jimmy's eyes.
    "You look like shit." he told Scott, coming in and pulling the curtains back to let some light in. "Should get some food in you…" he added, walking into the small kitchen and pulling out a skillet, turning on the coffee pot.
    "You look like you feel fine." Scott muttered, stretching and groaning as he stood, still trying to read Jimmy's mood. He seemed fine, seemed like everything was back into place, but it still felt a little off to Scott.
    "Felt like a walking headache when I got up, but I sweat it out at the gym. Good as new." Jimmy told him, offering a triumphant grin. "I'd have pulled your ass with me, but you looked pretty dead to the world." he added quietly.
    "I was, yeah." Scott agreed, coming around the little island that divided the kitchen from the living room, watching as Jimmy cracked two eggs into the skillet and reached for the bread, popping two slices into the toaster.
    "You need protein," Jimmy told him, adding with a nod to the coffee pot, "and caffeine."
    Scott snorted a laugh, "Doctor's orders?"
    "That's right," Jimmy nodded again, still smiling but not adding a stupid joke about the delivery method of the protein or giving Scott a nudge with his elbow.
    He served the eggs up with the toast, and got down a coffee cup for Scott. "I'm gonna hit the shower while you eat, then we can figure out what to do with the rest of the day." Jimmy told him, reaching a hand out to ruffle Scott's hair. He beamed at Jimmy for that, feeling like they were getting over the little divide that the previous night had created.
    "You got it, doc." Still smiling, Scott poured himself a cup of coffee, watching Jimmy pad barefoot across the floor, his gym shorts hanging low on his hips, tank top hugging his torso and riding up a little on one side. He had to force himself to turn his back on the man, pushing down all the thoughts that wanted to run wild through him.
    ****
    Within a couple of weeks they were back into the swing of things. Everything had worked itself out between them, Scott and Jimmy falling easily back into their patterns of life together. Scott tried not to notice that Jimmy spent fewer nights sharing his bed, but that was the only difference and he figured he could live with it.
    Working as a busboy at the small café down the street wasn't the best job, but the hours were easy on his schedule and the tips were a nice addition to the minimal wages he made as a TA helping useless undergrads muddle their way through world history. Jimmy was working as an orderly a few hours a week down at the hospital, his father insisting that his son see the hospital from the bottom up just as he had. They, at least, footed the bill for his schooling, and Jimmy's mother sent him money every month to help, but Jimmy swore up and down that the deposits in his bank account didn't start showing up until he'd introduced his family to Scott.
    Scott was taking his apron off and hanging it on the little hook behind the kitchen door, glad his day was over, glad it was Thursday night and that meant no class and no shifts for three days. He could sleep in, correct the nightmare stack of papers for the professor he worked with, study quietly, get his own paper finished, and maybe even have a