Chapter 3
Devon finished making dinner. It hadn’t been that hard – he’d simply followed the directions on the box of lasagna and the garlic bread alike. And even he could make a salad. Once he was finished, he wandered over to the wine rack in one corner and pulled out a bottle. Maybe Jack didn’t drink, but if he did Devon wanted him to have at least a glass of wine. It would help to calm his nerves, which were clearly on edge. Not that he could blame the teacher at all. He was almost as scared and bewildered as Jack Braeman was. Seeing a man get his head blown off right in front of your eyes tended to do that to you.
But he had to keep it together, if for Jack’s sake if not his own. The teacher was losing it. If he fell apart too it would get ugly. Following some kind of normal routine was helping him to cope. Not that living in such a large, nice house in the suburbs was any kind of routine like his normal one. Devon felt like he was on an alien world whenever he looked around. There was a certain Stepford quality about this neighborhood. He’d bet they had a nazi-esque Homeowner’s Association around here that wouldn’t allow for any individuality at all.
Devon left the wine to breathe and went out into the living room. He saw that Jack had fallen asleep, his face troubled and pale. Knowing that a nap would be the best thing for the teacher, Devon padded softly across the living room and left him to it as he went to prowl around the house curiously. There were two bedrooms, one of which looked like a guest room. He stood in the doorway of it and thought about the lie he’d told the F.B.I. They thought that he and Jack were long-term lovers, not two guys who’d met a few hours before they witnessed the shooting. They certainly wouldn’t expect the two men to sleep in different rooms.
Still, he’d worry about that later. For now he moved down the hallway to poke his nose into the other rooms, including a laundry room and a glassed-in little sun room in the back. When his impromptu tour was finished, Devon went into the master bedroom and looked in all the dresser drawers and the closet. He found clothes that were clearly meant for him as well as Jack. He took those that were his size into the guest bedroom and filled the drawer and closet in there. Once he was done with that, he went into the master bathroom and took half of the toiletries out of there. Those things went into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
There. Now Jack would have his own space and so would Devon. Satisfied, the biker went back into the kitchen and checked on the food. The lasagna was almost done, and the garlic bread was brown. He pulled the bread out and arranged it on a plate, then went out into the living room once more to retrieve the file that his handler had given him earlier. He wanted to read up on his new life.
Devon returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He rested his booted feet on the seat of one of the other chairs, opened his beer, and sipped it while he read about his new life. His name was Dean Milford, and he’d lived with his boyfriend John Barrington for three years. He could see the sense in giving them the same initials, as it would help them to learn to respond to their new names. Apparently he was a bouncer at a club downtown. Or he would be tomorrow anyway. Devon now Dean approved of this career change. While he’d worked on custom bikes for several years now, in his earlier days he’d done some work as a bouncer here and there. He was just glad that they hadn’t given him some white collar job and expected him to be any good at it. He didn’t have those kinds of skills.
He finished off his beer and got to his feet. Time to take the lasagna out of the oven and rouse Ja – err, JOHN so that he could get something to eat. He used hot pads to pull the pan out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool, then went out into the living room. The teacher was still sleeping deeply, and Dean hated to rouse him. But the man needed to eat. He went and knelt down next to the couch, reaching out to push a stray lock of hair off the other man’s face. The newly christened John looked vulnerable and defenseless when he slept. It did bad things to Dean’s libido. He wanted to wake the other man with a kiss, but knew that that was a bad idea. So he shook the man’s shoulder gently instead.
“Hey, wake up” he said. “Come on, dinner’s ready.” John’s eyes flickered open, their depths looking muzzy and out-of-it. He stared at Dean, and it took him a moment to place the near stranger leaning over him. Then memory returned, and pain shone briefly in his eyes before he began to struggle to sit up. Dean sighed and put a hand on his elbow to help him, feeling sorry for the former teacher. The man had lost so much in just one day.
“Umm, I guess I slept,” John said, pushing back that stray lock himself.
“You needed it,” Dean replied. “I wouldn’t have woken you up at all if you didn’t need to eat. Come into the kitchen and you can read your file while we eat.” John nodded silently, following him into the kitchen tamely. His passivity would have disturbed Dean, except for the fact that the biker suspected that it was only temporary. The man needed to recover a bit from the major shock to his system. He got the former teacher seated at the table and served them both full plates of food, then asked: “Do you drink wine, Ja…err…John?”
The other man glanced at him in surprise, not only because of the question about the wine but because of the name that Devon had called him by. “yes, I do,” he replied quietly.
“Okay. Here,” he handed John a full glass of wine before taking his own seat at the table. “Drink that.”
Jack did so, sipping at the wine as he contemplated the food on his plate. He didn’t really want it, but something told him that Devon wouldn’t be happy with him if he didn’t. So he forced himself to take a bite, and chewed it slowly so that he didn’t try to vomit it back up. But after the third or fourth bite his stomach reminded him that it still existed, and he ate with more energy after that. Devon watched him across the table to make sure that he ate, and looked satisfied when Jack nearly cleared his plate.
The biker handed him a file across the table. “Here are the facts about you,” he told Jack. “I called you John earlier because that’s your new name. John Barrington. I’m Dean Milford now. We’ve live together for over three years,” he added with a quirk of his lips.
“Oh,” Jack began to read his file, finding that his new job was…dear God! He began to laugh, the first time that he’d felt like doing so since yesterday afternoon. “What is it?” Devon…no…DEAN asked curiously.
John tried to control his snickers, but couldn’t quite. “I’m…selling…real estate!” he said with a howl of laughter. There was some hysteria in the sound, but at least it was genuine laughter.
Dean stared at him, and then started laughing loudly himself. “What are the odds,” he said as his guffaws subsided. He wiped at his eyes with one hand.
“Actually, it kind of makes sense. I have a realtor’s license. I used to sell houses during the summer when I was out of school. I bought my own house when I was working as a realtor last summer.”
“I see,” Dean replied. “That’s still pretty gunny, though. Hell, at least they didn’t give
ME a job as a realtor. I’m a bouncer,” he added for the former teacher’s edification. “Or at least I will be starting tomorrow evening.”
“A bouncer? I guess I could see that,” John conceded, looking him over. The biker felt his body stir at that stare, and had to fight to control himself.
“I’ve been a bouncer before,” Dean said, “Just like you’ve been a realtor before. So at least they got us jobs that we can do easily. It could be worse.”
“yeah,” John said softly, although he thought to himself: ‘I don’t see how it could be much worse, though.’
He chided himself for that thought almost immediately, since at least he had Dev…Dean here with him. The other man was looking at him now. “They even gave us a little home gym so we can still work out,” he told John.
“That’s good,” the former teacher replied. Although his brain started chanting gibberish when he thought of watching Dean work out in front of him. Lord, that fabulous body that he remembered so clearly from the showers at the gym!
“So we’ve been together for over three years,” he remarked aloud. “umm, does that mean…” he trailed off as he felt himself get little tongue tied again under the weight of those dark grey eyes.
Dean shook his head. “Not yet,” he said quietly. “I moved my stuff into the guest bedroom for now. I know that you’re not thinking clearly right now, Ja...John, but the truth is I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to jump into bed together right away. Not under these circumstances. If we hadn’t seen what we saw, I probably would have picked you up and taken you home with me. But that would have been different. We might have started dating, but it might also have turned out to be a one-night stand. But now we have to live together whether the personal stuff works out for us or not. So I think we should take this slow and easy. Believe me; I’d love to work off some of the strain of this situation with lots of really hot sex. But it’s just not a great idea.”
John sighed, for while he’d love to refute this argument he could see Dean’s point. They were virtual strangers to one another, yet they had to live in the same house as though they were lovers of long standing. Sex would just complicate things at the moment, especially if they came to realize that their personalities were incompatible. “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “I understand. And I agree, much as I wish I didn’t. We’ll take this slow.”
John trailed home wearily after his first day at work. It wasn’t that he’d had to toil or anything; but it was always hard to start a new job among complete strangers. And it had been worse this time because he’d had to remember that his name was John and not Jack now, and that his last name was Barrington. That had been exhausting. His new co-workers much have thought that he was a little ditzy since he hadn’t always answered to his name. Either that or somewhat deaf. He sighed as he got out of the car, anticipating a hot bath and a glass of wine. Driving to and from work in a strange city had been just as draining, even with the GPS. He was just glad to be ‘home’.
He left the garage and walked into the kitchen. “Dev – err…Dean?” he called, wondering if the other man were home.
“In here,” he heard the biker call from the living room. “How was your day, John?”
He sighed as he trailed into the living room. He saw that Dean was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. “Tiring,” he replied truthfully. “What about you? Do you have to work tonight?”
“Nope. I went over there today and talked the club owner, and he told me he doesn’t need me to start until Saturday. Which is fine; it’ll give me time to get used to everything and to change my sleeping schedule a bit. Not much, though; I get off at two p.m. and I used to sleep in until about ten in the morning anyway. I’m not an early bird,” he added with a crooked smile.
“Oh.” John felt grateful, since he wanted to talk to the other man a bit. If he’d either been at work or was preparing to go, then he would have had to rattle around this house by himself. That thought infinitely depressed him.
“Are you hungry?” the biker asked without moving. He seemed comfortably ensconced.
“Not really, but I think that’s just because I’m so tired. I should eat. It’s been a long time since lunch,” John replied.
“Great, I’m having something delivered. I discovered that we have credit cards in our new names with money already on them. Pre-paid, courtesy of Uncle Sam. So I called a restaurant that delivered and I’m having them send a complete dinner. So you don’t have to try to cook after being at work all day, and I don’t have to defrost anything.”
“That sounds wonderful.” The former teacher said gratefully.
“Oh, and I have another surprise for you. Please don’t wig out when I show it to you; I think it’ll be good for you,” the biker told him as he rose to his feet and left the living room. “I’ll be right back.”
John stared after his departing form, wondering what was going on. After a moment Dean returned with his hands behind his back. “I just thought that you might need some company when I’m not here,” he told John. “I know this might be too soon, but I saw her and I immediately thought of you.”
“Her?” he asked, baffled.
Dean brought his hands from behind his back. Cupped in his right palm was a small fluffy form with huge eyes. A soft white body with a grey blanket over the back, a stringy tail with darker grey stripes on it, and those enormous eyes which were emerald and gold…the kitten mewed loudly, displaying a pink mouth. She stood on shaky legs as Dean lifted her up a bit to show her to John.
“I saw a poster for free kittens when I was taking a walk around the block,” Dean explained. “And I remembered that you had cats. Now I know that you’re probably missing them pretty bad, and that you don’t want a replacement right now. But the truth is you don’t have any other familiar things around you right now. You need something, and a cat would be the simplest. Plus I don’t mind having one around, especially a really cute one like this,” he petted the silky fur with his long fingers.
John didn’t know what to say. He stared at the kitten, which was really very adorable. His heart was already melting, unable to withstand those big eyes. “I thought you should name her,” Dean remarked. “Since I don’t know much about kitties. Plus I didn’t buy her anything; you’ll have to get those kinds of supplies. So what do you want to call her?”
“Err…how about Misty? The grey in her coat looks sort of like mist,” John said softly.
Dean grinned. “Okay. Misty it is. Here you go. Hold her,” he came over and gave the kitten to John.
He held the soft little bundle as she looked up at him, and he lost his heart completely. He stroked the tiny head with two fingers as she meowed. “She’s probably hungry,” he said. “Did the people you got her from say how old she is?”
“A little over eight weeks. She’s weaned they said,” Dean replied.
“Okay. I’ll go to the store and get her food and other things,” John said as he handed the kitten back.
“All right. Dinner should be here by the time you get back,” the biker replied. “I’ll set the table.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back soon,” John left hurriedly, energized again now that he had something to think about besides his own rather miserable situation. Taking care of Misty would keep him focused off of his own problems.
He went to a Petsmart using the GPS and bought far too much. But the credit card that Dean had handed him had a good bit of money on it, and he actually enjoyed buying things for the kitten. He bought a large box of kitten food; some special milk to soften it with; an enclosed litter box and the litter to go along with it; a cute lined kitty bed; tons of different kinds of toys; some catnip for when she got older; a brush for her soft coat; a nail clipper; hairball remedy and kitty vitamin drops; and some pretty collars. Loaded down with his purchases, he went back out to his car and stowed everything in the back.
He drove home eagerly, wanting to get all of the things that Misty needed set up. She must be really hungry by now, poor thing. He toted all the things into the house, seeing Dean sitting on the couch once more. The kitten was sitting on the biker’s lap, mewling and picking at his shirt. He grinned when he saw all the bags that John was carrying. “Got enough for four cats, I see,” he teased.
John shrugged sheepishly. “I got carried away,” he admitted.
“That’s okay. But I think you need to feed this poor thing before she tries to eat me,” he added as he pointed down at the kitten on his lap.
The former teacher hurried into the kitchen to pull out the bowls he’d bought. He filled one with water and the other with kitten food, and then dampened the food down with the special milk. Then he called out to Dean: “Could you bring her in here? She can eat while I get her litter box set up.”
“Okay,” the biker strolled in and set the kitten down by the food. She meowed loudly for a moment, and then John carefully guided her nose to the food. Once she figured out what it was, the kitten fell on the food like a starving thing. She bolted the food as John pulled out the litter box and took it into the attached laundry room. He put it on the floor and poured scoopable litter into it.
He decided to put the kitty bed in his bedroom. When he emerged back into the kitchen, he saw the biker was opening some white cardboard boxes that smelled delicious. “We can eat now that the fur ball has gotten fed,” he remarked over his shoulder.
“Sounds good,” the former teacher replied, going over to fetch down a glass and get the bottle of chilled wine from the fridge.
They put the food in dishes and got the table ready, then sat down together. John found it decidedly cozy and domestic to be eating dinner with someone and talking, something he wasn’t used to. Dean had a great sense of humor, and teased him gently as they ate. The kitten came pattered out of the kitchen with a distended belly and came prowling under their feet, mewping up at them.
Go to Next Chapter
Devon finished making dinner. It hadn’t been that hard – he’d simply followed the directions on the box of lasagna and the garlic bread alike. And even he could make a salad. Once he was finished, he wandered over to the wine rack in one corner and pulled out a bottle. Maybe Jack didn’t drink, but if he did Devon wanted him to have at least a glass of wine. It would help to calm his nerves, which were clearly on edge. Not that he could blame the teacher at all. He was almost as scared and bewildered as Jack Braeman was. Seeing a man get his head blown off right in front of your eyes tended to do that to you.
But he had to keep it together, if for Jack’s sake if not his own. The teacher was losing it. If he fell apart too it would get ugly. Following some kind of normal routine was helping him to cope. Not that living in such a large, nice house in the suburbs was any kind of routine like his normal one. Devon felt like he was on an alien world whenever he looked around. There was a certain Stepford quality about this neighborhood. He’d bet they had a nazi-esque Homeowner’s Association around here that wouldn’t allow for any individuality at all.
Devon left the wine to breathe and went out into the living room. He saw that Jack had fallen asleep, his face troubled and pale. Knowing that a nap would be the best thing for the teacher, Devon padded softly across the living room and left him to it as he went to prowl around the house curiously. There were two bedrooms, one of which looked like a guest room. He stood in the doorway of it and thought about the lie he’d told the F.B.I. They thought that he and Jack were long-term lovers, not two guys who’d met a few hours before they witnessed the shooting. They certainly wouldn’t expect the two men to sleep in different rooms.
Still, he’d worry about that later. For now he moved down the hallway to poke his nose into the other rooms, including a laundry room and a glassed-in little sun room in the back. When his impromptu tour was finished, Devon went into the master bedroom and looked in all the dresser drawers and the closet. He found clothes that were clearly meant for him as well as Jack. He took those that were his size into the guest bedroom and filled the drawer and closet in there. Once he was done with that, he went into the master bathroom and took half of the toiletries out of there. Those things went into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
There. Now Jack would have his own space and so would Devon. Satisfied, the biker went back into the kitchen and checked on the food. The lasagna was almost done, and the garlic bread was brown. He pulled the bread out and arranged it on a plate, then went out into the living room once more to retrieve the file that his handler had given him earlier. He wanted to read up on his new life.
Devon returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He rested his booted feet on the seat of one of the other chairs, opened his beer, and sipped it while he read about his new life. His name was Dean Milford, and he’d lived with his boyfriend John Barrington for three years. He could see the sense in giving them the same initials, as it would help them to learn to respond to their new names. Apparently he was a bouncer at a club downtown. Or he would be tomorrow anyway. Devon now Dean approved of this career change. While he’d worked on custom bikes for several years now, in his earlier days he’d done some work as a bouncer here and there. He was just glad that they hadn’t given him some white collar job and expected him to be any good at it. He didn’t have those kinds of skills.
He finished off his beer and got to his feet. Time to take the lasagna out of the oven and rouse Ja – err, JOHN so that he could get something to eat. He used hot pads to pull the pan out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool, then went out into the living room. The teacher was still sleeping deeply, and Dean hated to rouse him. But the man needed to eat. He went and knelt down next to the couch, reaching out to push a stray lock of hair off the other man’s face. The newly christened John looked vulnerable and defenseless when he slept. It did bad things to Dean’s libido. He wanted to wake the other man with a kiss, but knew that that was a bad idea. So he shook the man’s shoulder gently instead.
“Hey, wake up” he said. “Come on, dinner’s ready.” John’s eyes flickered open, their depths looking muzzy and out-of-it. He stared at Dean, and it took him a moment to place the near stranger leaning over him. Then memory returned, and pain shone briefly in his eyes before he began to struggle to sit up. Dean sighed and put a hand on his elbow to help him, feeling sorry for the former teacher. The man had lost so much in just one day.
“Umm, I guess I slept,” John said, pushing back that stray lock himself.
“You needed it,” Dean replied. “I wouldn’t have woken you up at all if you didn’t need to eat. Come into the kitchen and you can read your file while we eat.” John nodded silently, following him into the kitchen tamely. His passivity would have disturbed Dean, except for the fact that the biker suspected that it was only temporary. The man needed to recover a bit from the major shock to his system. He got the former teacher seated at the table and served them both full plates of food, then asked: “Do you drink wine, Ja…err…John?”
The other man glanced at him in surprise, not only because of the question about the wine but because of the name that Devon had called him by. “yes, I do,” he replied quietly.
“Okay. Here,” he handed John a full glass of wine before taking his own seat at the table. “Drink that.”
Jack did so, sipping at the wine as he contemplated the food on his plate. He didn’t really want it, but something told him that Devon wouldn’t be happy with him if he didn’t. So he forced himself to take a bite, and chewed it slowly so that he didn’t try to vomit it back up. But after the third or fourth bite his stomach reminded him that it still existed, and he ate with more energy after that. Devon watched him across the table to make sure that he ate, and looked satisfied when Jack nearly cleared his plate.
The biker handed him a file across the table. “Here are the facts about you,” he told Jack. “I called you John earlier because that’s your new name. John Barrington. I’m Dean Milford now. We’ve live together for over three years,” he added with a quirk of his lips.
“Oh,” Jack began to read his file, finding that his new job was…dear God! He began to laugh, the first time that he’d felt like doing so since yesterday afternoon. “What is it?” Devon…no…DEAN asked curiously.
John tried to control his snickers, but couldn’t quite. “I’m…selling…real estate!” he said with a howl of laughter. There was some hysteria in the sound, but at least it was genuine laughter.
Dean stared at him, and then started laughing loudly himself. “What are the odds,” he said as his guffaws subsided. He wiped at his eyes with one hand.
“Actually, it kind of makes sense. I have a realtor’s license. I used to sell houses during the summer when I was out of school. I bought my own house when I was working as a realtor last summer.”
“I see,” Dean replied. “That’s still pretty gunny, though. Hell, at least they didn’t give
ME a job as a realtor. I’m a bouncer,” he added for the former teacher’s edification. “Or at least I will be starting tomorrow evening.”
“A bouncer? I guess I could see that,” John conceded, looking him over. The biker felt his body stir at that stare, and had to fight to control himself.
“I’ve been a bouncer before,” Dean said, “Just like you’ve been a realtor before. So at least they got us jobs that we can do easily. It could be worse.”
“yeah,” John said softly, although he thought to himself: ‘I don’t see how it could be much worse, though.’
He chided himself for that thought almost immediately, since at least he had Dev…Dean here with him. The other man was looking at him now. “They even gave us a little home gym so we can still work out,” he told John.
“That’s good,” the former teacher replied. Although his brain started chanting gibberish when he thought of watching Dean work out in front of him. Lord, that fabulous body that he remembered so clearly from the showers at the gym!
“So we’ve been together for over three years,” he remarked aloud. “umm, does that mean…” he trailed off as he felt himself get little tongue tied again under the weight of those dark grey eyes.
Dean shook his head. “Not yet,” he said quietly. “I moved my stuff into the guest bedroom for now. I know that you’re not thinking clearly right now, Ja...John, but the truth is I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to jump into bed together right away. Not under these circumstances. If we hadn’t seen what we saw, I probably would have picked you up and taken you home with me. But that would have been different. We might have started dating, but it might also have turned out to be a one-night stand. But now we have to live together whether the personal stuff works out for us or not. So I think we should take this slow and easy. Believe me; I’d love to work off some of the strain of this situation with lots of really hot sex. But it’s just not a great idea.”
John sighed, for while he’d love to refute this argument he could see Dean’s point. They were virtual strangers to one another, yet they had to live in the same house as though they were lovers of long standing. Sex would just complicate things at the moment, especially if they came to realize that their personalities were incompatible. “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “I understand. And I agree, much as I wish I didn’t. We’ll take this slow.”
John trailed home wearily after his first day at work. It wasn’t that he’d had to toil or anything; but it was always hard to start a new job among complete strangers. And it had been worse this time because he’d had to remember that his name was John and not Jack now, and that his last name was Barrington. That had been exhausting. His new co-workers much have thought that he was a little ditzy since he hadn’t always answered to his name. Either that or somewhat deaf. He sighed as he got out of the car, anticipating a hot bath and a glass of wine. Driving to and from work in a strange city had been just as draining, even with the GPS. He was just glad to be ‘home’.
He left the garage and walked into the kitchen. “Dev – err…Dean?” he called, wondering if the other man were home.
“In here,” he heard the biker call from the living room. “How was your day, John?”
He sighed as he trailed into the living room. He saw that Dean was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. “Tiring,” he replied truthfully. “What about you? Do you have to work tonight?”
“Nope. I went over there today and talked the club owner, and he told me he doesn’t need me to start until Saturday. Which is fine; it’ll give me time to get used to everything and to change my sleeping schedule a bit. Not much, though; I get off at two p.m. and I used to sleep in until about ten in the morning anyway. I’m not an early bird,” he added with a crooked smile.
“Oh.” John felt grateful, since he wanted to talk to the other man a bit. If he’d either been at work or was preparing to go, then he would have had to rattle around this house by himself. That thought infinitely depressed him.
“Are you hungry?” the biker asked without moving. He seemed comfortably ensconced.
“Not really, but I think that’s just because I’m so tired. I should eat. It’s been a long time since lunch,” John replied.
“Great, I’m having something delivered. I discovered that we have credit cards in our new names with money already on them. Pre-paid, courtesy of Uncle Sam. So I called a restaurant that delivered and I’m having them send a complete dinner. So you don’t have to try to cook after being at work all day, and I don’t have to defrost anything.”
“That sounds wonderful.” The former teacher said gratefully.
“Oh, and I have another surprise for you. Please don’t wig out when I show it to you; I think it’ll be good for you,” the biker told him as he rose to his feet and left the living room. “I’ll be right back.”
John stared after his departing form, wondering what was going on. After a moment Dean returned with his hands behind his back. “I just thought that you might need some company when I’m not here,” he told John. “I know this might be too soon, but I saw her and I immediately thought of you.”
“Her?” he asked, baffled.
Dean brought his hands from behind his back. Cupped in his right palm was a small fluffy form with huge eyes. A soft white body with a grey blanket over the back, a stringy tail with darker grey stripes on it, and those enormous eyes which were emerald and gold…the kitten mewed loudly, displaying a pink mouth. She stood on shaky legs as Dean lifted her up a bit to show her to John.
“I saw a poster for free kittens when I was taking a walk around the block,” Dean explained. “And I remembered that you had cats. Now I know that you’re probably missing them pretty bad, and that you don’t want a replacement right now. But the truth is you don’t have any other familiar things around you right now. You need something, and a cat would be the simplest. Plus I don’t mind having one around, especially a really cute one like this,” he petted the silky fur with his long fingers.
John didn’t know what to say. He stared at the kitten, which was really very adorable. His heart was already melting, unable to withstand those big eyes. “I thought you should name her,” Dean remarked. “Since I don’t know much about kitties. Plus I didn’t buy her anything; you’ll have to get those kinds of supplies. So what do you want to call her?”
“Err…how about Misty? The grey in her coat looks sort of like mist,” John said softly.
Dean grinned. “Okay. Misty it is. Here you go. Hold her,” he came over and gave the kitten to John.
He held the soft little bundle as she looked up at him, and he lost his heart completely. He stroked the tiny head with two fingers as she meowed. “She’s probably hungry,” he said. “Did the people you got her from say how old she is?”
“A little over eight weeks. She’s weaned they said,” Dean replied.
“Okay. I’ll go to the store and get her food and other things,” John said as he handed the kitten back.
“All right. Dinner should be here by the time you get back,” the biker replied. “I’ll set the table.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back soon,” John left hurriedly, energized again now that he had something to think about besides his own rather miserable situation. Taking care of Misty would keep him focused off of his own problems.
He went to a Petsmart using the GPS and bought far too much. But the credit card that Dean had handed him had a good bit of money on it, and he actually enjoyed buying things for the kitten. He bought a large box of kitten food; some special milk to soften it with; an enclosed litter box and the litter to go along with it; a cute lined kitty bed; tons of different kinds of toys; some catnip for when she got older; a brush for her soft coat; a nail clipper; hairball remedy and kitty vitamin drops; and some pretty collars. Loaded down with his purchases, he went back out to his car and stowed everything in the back.
He drove home eagerly, wanting to get all of the things that Misty needed set up. She must be really hungry by now, poor thing. He toted all the things into the house, seeing Dean sitting on the couch once more. The kitten was sitting on the biker’s lap, mewling and picking at his shirt. He grinned when he saw all the bags that John was carrying. “Got enough for four cats, I see,” he teased.
John shrugged sheepishly. “I got carried away,” he admitted.
“That’s okay. But I think you need to feed this poor thing before she tries to eat me,” he added as he pointed down at the kitten on his lap.
The former teacher hurried into the kitchen to pull out the bowls he’d bought. He filled one with water and the other with kitten food, and then dampened the food down with the special milk. Then he called out to Dean: “Could you bring her in here? She can eat while I get her litter box set up.”
“Okay,” the biker strolled in and set the kitten down by the food. She meowed loudly for a moment, and then John carefully guided her nose to the food. Once she figured out what it was, the kitten fell on the food like a starving thing. She bolted the food as John pulled out the litter box and took it into the attached laundry room. He put it on the floor and poured scoopable litter into it.
He decided to put the kitty bed in his bedroom. When he emerged back into the kitchen, he saw the biker was opening some white cardboard boxes that smelled delicious. “We can eat now that the fur ball has gotten fed,” he remarked over his shoulder.
“Sounds good,” the former teacher replied, going over to fetch down a glass and get the bottle of chilled wine from the fridge.
They put the food in dishes and got the table ready, then sat down together. John found it decidedly cozy and domestic to be eating dinner with someone and talking, something he wasn’t used to. Dean had a great sense of humor, and teased him gently as they ate. The kitten came pattered out of the kitchen with a distended belly and came prowling under their feet, mewping up at them.
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