The ETA From You to Me (21 page)

“Isn’t Clayton the best?” Grant asked her, eyes crossing against the shine of the small light. “He’s the best thing ever. He likes forest aminals. He's like, manly Snow White. But thas' okay, I will not judge him for having the love of butterflies. I‘m a good boyfriend like that.”

Clayton was hiding his face behind his hands, which was very rude when he was obviously being complimented.

“That’s nice sweetie.” Adam’s mom patted Grant on his non-captive-via-boyfriend hand, and then fiddled with Grant's morphine drip.

“No, my happy juice…why would you do that to me, ma. Ma, no. Stop. I can already feel the pain. Oh, the pain!” Grant reached forlornly for the button strategically placed out of his reach while Adam’s mom looked over at Clayton. Clayton, who seemed to be making three different facial expressions at once because he couldn’t decide which emotion he was feeling the most.

Adam's mother smiled at Clayton. “So you’re the one whose been stealing my son’s best friend away from him.”

Grant scoffed. “Adam is jealous because Clayton has a huge dick and it’s all mine.” Grant told her matter-of-factly.

Grant had no idea why Clayton had to look so horrified at the idea that his dick was considered above-average. Most people would think it to be a compliment, okay.

“That’s not something I wanted to know, sweetheart.” Adam's mom patted Clayton on the head, and then walked out of the room. She was obviously jealous of the fact that Clayton was all Grant's and could not be shared.

Clayton looked at Grant, eyes wide and face tired. So cute. Grant was extremely giddy, and very happy. His legs must have been made out of clouds. Maybe he was a cotton candy man, floating up above the clouds with the sun shining down on him.

“If you keep talking you’ll bite your tongue off. I need that tongue,” Clayton muttered. Grant tried to frown; he was pretty sure he was frowning. His face felt kind of numb. Not numb like ‘trip to the dentist’ numb. More like ‘floating on a rainbow of nothingness’ numb.

“Forrrr sexy things?”

“It’s not good for anything else, is it?” Clayton teased, leering just the tiniest bit.

“I’ve been concussed, Clayton. You have to be nice to me.” Clayton should be nice, because Grant loved him forever.

Clayton rolled his eyes, since he totally couldn’t think of any comebacks, of course, and a thought struck Grant.

“Hey can we hanky panky?”

“What?”

Grant flailed for Clayton’s arm, pulling him in until Clayton fell halfway into Grant's lap. Perfect.

“I wanna check hospital sex off of my to-do list. I mean. I’ve already checked your name off…get it… to-do list. I’m going ‘to-do’ you? Aha, I’m hilarious," he
was
hilarious. Grant was so damn clever he cracked himself up. His laughter sounded funny, even to his own ears, and it made him laugh harder until Clayton was grabbing his chin and dragging him into a kiss.

Delighted, Grant reciprocated as best he could when he felt half numb and completely out of it on pain medication. The kiss didn't last for long before Clayton's ringing cell phone had to interrupt them.

Pulling back reluctantly, Clayton answered his cell, talking to the evening dispatcher and scribbling everything down on the small notebook he’d brought in his breast pocket. Grant kept trying to take his pen, but Clayton just turned around and walked away from the bed.

Hanging up once finished, Clayton came back to drop a kiss on Grant's cheek. Grant wanted proper kisses, so he mashed their lips together. 

“I have to get back to work.” Clayton muttered into Grant's lips, kissing him a second time and then standing up. “I’ll stop by later to pick you up after your 12 hours are up.“

“I’m onlyyyy allowing this 'cause you bring home th' bacoooon.” Grant said. Clayton stared at him.

“You don’t even live with me.”

“Minor details,” Grant waved his hand, laying back against the bed and fumbling for the remote, “now shooooo.”

Clayton snorted, giving Grant one last parting wave before he left.

Grant settled in to fiddle with the remote, suddenly very confused as to what buttons did which operation. It took him a full five minutes to change the channel, and another ten before he found something satisfying to watch.

"I can't believe you told my mom your boyfriend has a huge dick." Adam whined from the door, pushing it open and letting Jessica in before closing it behind them both.

"I'm on morphine! I'm not in my right mind!" Grant protested, gesturing to the gauze o his head. Jessica reached out and patted him on the knee.

"I hate to break it to you, Grant," she said quietly, smiling, "it's rare that you're ever in your right mind."

Jessica grinned, looking over at Adam--who really looked disgruntled at the idea of waking up before noon for any reason other than sex. She turned back to Grant. “Tough love, sweetie. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I don‘t want to sleep! I’ve been concussed!” Grant was probably just paranoid, but he'd grown up hearing stories about how people would go to sleep and never wake up. That's pretty much what had happened with his mom. He would rather suffer a sleepless night than drop off into a coma against his will. Nothing the doctors could say otherwise would put him at ease.

“Whatever you want, man. I’m just glad you’re okay, dude.” Adam said quietly, crossing the room and bending down to hug Grant.

“Me too, man.” Grant agreed, rubbing his head against Adam’s. Adam had really soft hair. It was almost as fun to rub his face into as Clayton's. “It would totally suck if I wasn’t okay. What if I woke up in a coma, right? And I missed, like, five years of my life.” That would suck. That would be beyond Lifetime movie suckage.

“What if I woke up five years in the future and Clayton was married to someone else and had kids? He’s not allowed to do that. He has to have my babies. Well, not actually have my babies, but be involved in the process of acquiring said babies and--”

“Can I ask my mom to just take him off the morphine completely?” Adam asked Jessica. Grant made a face, glowering in response to Adam's playful smile.

“You should get me some coffee, instead.” Grant offered, “Since I want to stay awake all night.”

Adam stood up, clapping Grant's shoulder. “Anything for my best buddy.” With that, Adam not only pulled his own wallet out to thumb through for change, but took a left outside the door instead of a right. That meant he was heading for the cafeteria--Grant was getting himself some café coffee, not vending machine coffee. Fancy hospital stuff right there.

Grant was going to totally milk this injury for as long as he could.

Chapter 12

Grant felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only zombie around when Clayton came to pick him up an hour or two before the crack of dawn. Just seeing the tired expression on Clayton’s face when he drove the both of them back to Grant's house was proof enough that his entire night at work had been stressful. Grant himself was pretty much ready to climb into bed for a few hours until they headed out for the fair.

His bed was already calling to him, giving him promises of warmth, softness, and the best sleep imaginable. There was also the likelihood that Grant would be able to drag Clayton between the sheets and force-cuddle him to death. Even though Grant had already gotten his fair share of morning kisses back at the hospital, he expected plenty more.

Grant hadn’t anticipated how nerve wracking the ride home would be, though. Every single movement from another car on the road had him jumping nervously in his seat. Clayton must have seen the way Grant would jerk when someone cut them off or moved too fast, because he grabbed Grant's hand less than ten minutes into the drive.

“Cover your eyes. Pretend you’re on a kiddie roller coaster,” he advised quietly. Grant wondered belatedly if Clayton had ever gotten into car accidents before. It was just another thing about Clayton that Grant hoped to find out over time.

He was too tired to even argue, so he curled up against the window as best he could without letting go of Clayton’s hand. Even his brain was fried. He barely could keep up any internal commentary--and that was his favorite thing to do. Grant squeezed Clayton’s hand, holding tight.

Somewhere between one turn and the next, Grant drifted off. He felt so much safer in Clayton’s truck compared to the hospital that it was kind of ridiculous. He shouldn’t be lulled by the rumbling seats or the roar of a giant engine, but he was.

Clayton woke him up after parking in Grant's driveway by dragging his fingers up Grant's arm and back down, calluses tickling the skin. Grant groggily came to, watching Clayton use his free hand to unbuckle Grant's seatbelt while still tickling at Grant's arm and wrist to coax him awake. It tingled enough for Grant to whine, slap Clayton’s hand away, and practically roll out of his seatbelt and out of the door of the truck.

He was a little disheartened to see the driveway empty, which meant his dad had already gone to work. They [probably just missed each other, which happened far too often already. Still, it did mean that he and Clayton had the house to themselves. Of course, despite the fact that Grant would have been completely on board for multiple levels of sexual activity, he wanted a shower more than anything.

Lucky for Grant, Clayton also happened to want a shower.

How on earth they went from washing their bodies, to Clayton holding Grant up against the wall and knocking his legs open with a knee, Grant had absolutely no idea. Nope. None at all.

“Lube,” Grant groaned, riding on Clayton’s thigh using the slip-slide of water to gain momentum. Clayton kissed him again and again, mouth desperate to keep contact with Grant's, like he was reassuring himself Grant was there, in his arms. “Dude, c‘mon--” Grant gasped when Clayton sucked on his lower lip, reaching up to put a hand on Clayton’s chest. “Soap is ineffective as lube, I have totally tried. You should go and get the lube from under the sink. Right now.”

Clayton scrambled to comply, but only after he lowered Grant down to the floor of the shower. Considering all Grant had under the sink was some toilet paper and a few cleaning products, Clayton was flinging back the curtain again in no time. Grant reached out, dragging Clayton in for a kiss because--hey, he’d nearly died, all right? He was totally justified in being kind of needy right now.

Clayton crowded him up against the wall, mostly blocking the lukewarm spray as he fumbled to open the lube with one hand while the other slid up and down Grant's side. Grant pressed their lips together, fingers scraping through Clayton’s hair as he bit and licked his way into that warm, open mouth. Clayton grunted out a breathy sigh, snagging Grant by the side of the neck to keep him steady, to press the warm line of their bodies together and rut into him.

“Jesus,” Grant gasped out when Clayton moved to nip kisses into his chin and jaw. Clayton nuzzled his cheek and Grant was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he really loved Clayton. How devastating it would have been if he’d died, if he’d lost Clayton this early on. Grant clutched his arms around Clayton’s shoulders, pressing their temples together when Clayton’s palm rested against his chest.

Clayton groaned, kissing Grant on the cheek and pulling back enough to dump some lube into his hand. Grant kept up the motion of his hips, even though there was too much space for anything other than the occasional brush that had Clayton twitching.

"Eager," Clayton teased, wrapping his fist around Grant's thickening cock and giving it a rough, tight stroke. Grant moaned, throwing his head back without thinking and regretting it the second the top of his head hit the shower wall. Pain flared in his skull and he cried out, knees buckling.

“Grant? Fuck--I’m sorry, are you okay?” Clayton cursed, hauling Grant up and then helping him out of the shower. Grant groaned, his head spinning while Clayton went about shutting the water off and then grabbing a towel to wipe Grant down. He used gentle swipes of the cloth around Grant's head, though it still made everything hurt.

“M’fine,” Grant said, mortified. This was just painful and downright embarrassing. “Still wanna get laid, though.”

Clayton huffed on a laugh, leaning in and pressing his lips to Grant's forehead. Grant liked to think that it helped the pain dull, even going so far as to close his eyes and try and force himself to believe it. Clayton swayed when he stood, reaching out to rub his hand over Grant's head and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

“Well, come on then,” Clayton teased, gesturing towards the door, “I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be of use to me; you’re looking like a zombie.”

“
You’re
a zombie,” Grant shot back petulantly, flicking Clayton playfully on the ear before hightailing it to the bedroom. He almost made it into his room when Clayton’s thick arms wrapped around his stomach and a playful growl was loud in his ears.

“I’ll show you zombie,” Clayton nipped at his earlobe, wriggling his feet under Grant’s heels to waddle-walk them towards the bed. Clayton’s palm was warm and wide against Grant’s belly, stroking up until Grant had to stumble when his left nipple was tweaked painfully.

“Oy!” he cried, flailing a hand back to swat Clayton on the hip, “hands off the goods!”

“Mmh, but they’re
my
goods, aren’t they?” Clayton murmured, nosing along Grant’s hairline and pressing slow, achingly gentle kisses there. Grant struggled to think of a good response, but anything that came to mind was quickly forgotten when he felt Clayton start to grind up against his ass.