"Are you coming to bed soon?" Birkoff called to Declan with considerable impatience.

Sometimes Birkoff regretted showing Declan how to use the computer. As a field op, Declan had learned the basics, more to facilitate entering and retrieving data than anything else. But when Declan showed a sudden interest in the computer, Birkoff was flattered, feeling it had something to do with him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Declan had discovered going online. Night after night, Birkoff gritted his teeth, waiting for Declan to finally get tired of his new toy. But it was rapidly turning into an addiction. And Birkoff was suffering for it.

"Declan?" Birkoff crawled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he approached the sitting room. Yep, there he was, hunched over the computer, tapping away. Sheesh, was that what Birkoff looked like back in Section, always staring at a monitor? Birkoff sighed.

"Dec?" Birkoff was running short on tolerance for this kind of thing. Fast. He expected Declan’s full attention, and he wasn’t getting it anymore. In fact, come to think of it, that was another problem. He wasn’t getting it anymore. "It" being sex. They hadn’t made love in almost a week now.

"Dec-lannn...." Birkoff whined in a sing-song manner that drove Declan crazy under normal circumstances. Evidently these were no longer normal circumstances.

Nothing seemed to catch his attention. Birkoff smiled to himself, wondering if this would do the trick. He pulled off his T-shirt and stepped out of his shorts, standing before Declan proudly. "Ta-da!" he sang as he struck a pose.

Nothing. That did seem to be the operative word here. Declan’s attention to the computer screen never wavered. What was so damn fascinating anyway?

"Okay, Declan, what’s so much more interesting than me?" Birkoff demanded, surprised to hear the undertone of anger in his voice.

Declan finally registered his lover’s presence with a sleepy grin. "Oh, hi, baby."

"Baby? Who are you talking to, Declan? Cause it sure as hell ain’t me! You’ve never called me baby in the entire time we’ve been together!" Birkoff pouted.

"I haven’t?" Declan seemed mildly disconcerted to hear that. Then he smiled. A beautiful, transcendent smile. "It’s how I think of you sometimes."

"That I’m a baby? Go on, Declan, this is illuminating!"

Declan didn’t appear to notice that Birkoff was positively fuming at this point. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

"Come here, sweetie," Declan said, apparently unaware that the moment for a little bit of mutual seduction had somehow passed him by.

"Are you on something?" Birkoff commented acidly.

Declan blinked curiously, his pale eyes aglitter. "No," he answered quite seriously. "Why?"

"Oh, never mind! I give up!" And with no further commentary, Birkoff picked up his clothing and shuffled back to the bedroom.

***

This was Birkoff’s weekend to work. Normally, he didn’t mind. In fact, he looked forward to it most of the time. He was enjoying his new job. The manager liked him. So did the clerks who pulled inventory and ran the cash registers. For the first time in his life, he had gone out and made friends. Well, okay, so they weren’t exactly friends. They were co-workers. Acquaintances. But he had to start somewhere.

Besides, there was a lot of activity in the mall on the weekend. Something different was planned for each weekend. Crafts shows, health seminars, all kinds of things. Usually, Birkoff would investigate these things during his lunch hour. Cautiously, of course. His seemingly innate agoraphobia was not completely a thing of the past.

Today was supposed to be special. The manager said he had a surprise for him. Birkoff wasn’t sure he cared for surprises all that much, especially lately, but he didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings.

It turned out to be more of a surprise than he bargained for. Sputtering and fussing all the way home, Birkoff still couldn’t believe what happened. The manager had told him he wanted to promote Birkoff. To assistant manager. That thrilled Birkoff, who couldn’t wait to share the news with Declan. But then...the manager ruined the whole thing. Sliding an arm around Birkoff familiarly, the older man tried to slip his tongue into Birkoff’s mouth, muttering, "You’re a delicious little morsel, aren’t you?" Birkoff was so appalled, he couldn’t even speak. He didn’t quit. He just left.

Still, when he walked into the house, earlier than usual, he expected more of a welcome than he received. Dropping the mail onto the dining room table, Birkoff tried to determine where Declan was. "Dec?" he called, unaware that his voice trembled a bit.

Eventually, he made his way to the rooms he shared with Declan. There he was. Glued to the computer. Birkoff was angry now. Angry at what happened to him. Unable to take it out on anyone else. Safely.

"Declan!" The sharpness of his voice immediately grabbed Declan’s attention.

"Sey! You’re home early!" Declan seemed genuinely glad to see him, but then again, Birkoff wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

"Could you possibly tear yourself away from that thing for two seconds?" Birkoff asked angrily.

Declan shut off the computer. "What’s wrong?"

"You! Me! This!" he said, pointing at the now-dormant computer.

"Everything!" he said, feeling dangerously close to tears. "Don’t you care what happens to me anymore?"

Declan stared at him consideringly. "Real world getting you down, Sey?"

Birkoff promptly burst into tears. "I hate you! Why are you treating me this way, Declan?"

Declan stood up and took his lover into his arms, gently holding him while he cried. "Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?" Declan said softly.

Birkoff nearly jumped out of his embrace. "You’ve been acting like this to teach me a lesson?"

Declan turned away from him, his pale grey eyes the color of dull pewter. "You always used to know when I was hurting, Sey. But you haven’t noticed a bloody thing since you started working."

"What about all that time you’ve been spending online? What’s that all about, Declan?" Birkoff shouted, swiping at his face with the backs of his hands.

"That’s my business." Declan’s voice was cool.

"Not when it affects me, it’s not."

"And just how does it affect you?" Declan fairly snarled.

"When you stop coming to bed with me...that affects me. What’s the next step, Dec? You stop loving me, too?"

"You’re the one who went away first!" Declan screamed. For long moments, the two of them just stared at one another, trapped in a moment that held such utter heartbreak, neither could speak.

"You said you understood," Birkoff said plaintively.

"I lied." Declan stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Birkoff tried the door, but it was locked from the inside. "Declan! Let me in!"

He pounded on the door over and over, to no avail. "I said, let me in, dammit!"

"Go away," came the muffled response.

Birkoff pondered. "You know, I could hack into the computer without any trouble at all and find out exactly what you’ve been doing!"

The lock went ker-snick. The door opened. Declan stood there, glaring at his lover. "But you won’t."

"How do you know that?" Birkoff sneered, his chin jutting out arrogantly.

"Cause you respect my privacy," Declan replied softly.

"Dammit, Declan! You’re freaking up to something, aren’t you?" Birkoff was beyond exasperated.

"Like?"

Birkoff sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I could accuse you of cheating on me so easily, Dec."

"But you know it’s not true." Declan’s eyes met his, and Birkoff faltered in his belief that Declan was, in fact, doing just that.

"But we don’t make love anymore..." Birkoff whispered.

Declan hooked his arm around Birkoff’s neck and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "I still love you."

"But you have someone else?" Birkoff asked tearfully.

Declan shook his head. "There’ll never be anyone else, acushla."

"Then tell me what you’re doing online for hours every night," Birkoff said petulantly.

Declan sighed, releasing his lover from his embrace. "Ask me something else, Sey."

"Why won’t you tell me?" Birkoff asked, tears gleaming in his dark velvet eyes.

Declan pushed past him, their shoulders touching briefly. Desire arced through Birkoff, leaving his mouth dry. "Declan," he almost sobbed.

"What?"

"How come you don’t want me anymore?"

Declan averted his head, stopping by the computer to make certain it was off. Birkoff crept up behind him, pulling the hair off Declan’s nape to press a kiss there. Wrapping his arms around Declan’s chest, Birkoff leaned on his lover. Just the feel of Declan’s body against him was enough to trigger a tremendous state of arousal. But if Declan felt anything, he didn’t say.

Birkoff slid his cheek along Declan’s upper back, his eyes closing of their own volition. Unbearably aroused now, Birkoff whispered, "If you’re not doing it with anyone else, why aren’t you doing it with me?"

Declan twisted in Birkoff’s embrace, turning to face him. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Birkoff swallowed. "Is it working?"

Declan unbuttoned Birkoff’s shirt in answer, pulling the sleeves down over his upper arms, trapping his arms temporarily. Giving Birkoff an enigmatic look, Declan asked, "Why are you home from work early? Checking up on me?"

Birkoff stuttered, "N-n-no, D-D-eclan. I just--" He just remembered why he had left work early. A vague sense of shame and guilt pervaded his entire being. Had he invited the manager’s fondling somehow?

His face flaming a brilliant shade of red, Birkoff began to back away from Declan. Recognizing that something was truly wrong, Declan grabbed his lover by both shoulders. "Tell me."

"You didn’t want to know before," Birkoff couldn’t help but mention.

"I do now."

"What are you, my father?" Birkoff said almost belligerently.

Declan flushed. "I am most definitely not your father, Sey."

"You couldn’t prove it lately with the lousy way you’re treating me," Birkoff snapped bitterly, earning him a wounded look from Declan.

Declan waited. Something set Birkoff off. He would tell him eventually. In bed or out of it. Might be better in bed.

Declan grasped Birkoff’s shirt and pulled it away from his body, throwing it onto the floor. Taking him by the hand, Declan led him into the bedroom. To his surprise, Birkoff followed, like the puppy he so often resembled.

He slid his hands down Birkoff’s body to the snap of his jeans, spreading them within the waistband, forcing the zipper to open slowly. Carefully peeling the rest of his lover’s clothing from his body, Declan watched as Birkoff seemed mesmerized by his every move.

Just as Declan was about to touch his arousal, however, Birkoff’s hand shot out and grabbed Declan’s wrist. "The thought of you being with someone else is killing me, Dec," he whispered.

Declan’s eyes flickered.

Birkoff abruptly released Declan’s wrist, moving forward to kiss the hollow at the base of Declan’s neck. "But the thought of not being with you is worse," he whispered.

It should have been gentle. But it went down rough. Not at all unmoved by Birkoff’s words, Declan pushed him down onto the bed, holding one hand upon his middle as he stripped off his own clothing as quickly as possible.

Flipping him onto his back, Declan leaned close to his lover and bit his shoulder. Hard. Birkoff would have protested, but Declan forestalled him with a harshly whispered curse. "You’re wearing my mark now, and don’t you ever forget it."

Birkoff shivered in anticipation. Declan so rarely lost control. He had driven him to this, and he knew it. But it felt wonderful. "Please..." he whimpered.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Declan demanded, deliberately emphasizing the last word.

Birkoff sighed. "Take me...please."

Declan slid down his lover’s back, trailing kisses along his spine, kisses that grew increasingly ardent as he approached the object of his desire. Nipping at one tender buttock, Declan’s teeth gleamed whitely.

"You’re mine, acushla," Declan ground out as he prepared the way for their bodies to become one. Slapping his lover’s buttocks, he sheathed himself within him with a sharp gasp of pleasure. It had been too long.

"You’ll always be mine, do you hear me?" Declan growled in his lover’s ear, pulling on his hair.

"Yes, Declan," Birkoff responded dutifully, pretending an obeisance he didn’t necessarily feel. The truth was, he was thrilled at the possessive way Declan was laying claim to him. How could there be anyone else when they were together like this? His heart rejoiced at the resurgence of hope.

But it had been too long. Declan’s climax came way too soon for both of them. But it didn’t matter. Declan rolled his lover onto his back and rubbed his arousal. Birkoff groaned at Declan’s touch, strangely tender for all his earlier roughness.

Declan found his mouth, and they clung together, as if suspended by time and space, one endless kiss to be shared forever. Declan would have tended to his lover’s urgent state of arousal, but Birkoff pulled him back, preferring to be kissed by that mouth. "I love the feel of your mouth," he whispered.

"Then let me take care of you, love," Declan said gently.

Birkoff shook his head slowly. "It’ll wait. I have such a need to kiss you right now, I can’t think of anything else."

"Kieran..." Declan breathed.

At the sound of the name that Declan bestowed upon him on their anniversary, Birkoff’s dark chocolate eyes teared. Wrapping his arms around Declan’s neck, he cried, "Declan, I love you. I’m never going to stop loving you."

Declan pulled one of his lover’s hands away from his neck and stared at it in awe, the sterling silver Claddagh ring still gleaming brightly on Birkoff’s left hand. Bending his head to kiss it, Declan whispered, "Always and forever."

Declan rubbed his mouth back and forth across his lover’s lips, abrading the smooth, full surface until it was temptingly swollen. His hands were splayed across both cheeks, keeping his partner’s face in perfect position for his sensual assault.

"Jeez, Declan, what are you doing to me?" Birkoff groaned into Declan’s mouth as it opened over his.

"I’m loving you," came the softest of whispers.

Inch by inch, Declan made his way back down Birkoff’s body. When he came to his lover’s arousal, Declan stopped, his mouth hovering perilously close to touching it. He looked back up at Birkoff, his eyes hot and expectant. "I’m teaching you the difference between having sex and making love."

Birkoff’s dark eyes flashed at his partner as he heaved himself up into a semi-sitting position. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed Declan by his long, red hair. "We’ve always made love. It’s never been just sex with us."

"You don’t have the experience to know better."

"I don’t need it, Dec. I’m never going to be with anyone else this way."

Declan’s eyes dropped, but Birkoff pulled on his hair until he made eye contact again. "You know I’m telling the truth. You can see it in my eyes, can’t you?"

Declan drew a ragged breath. "I want to believe you, acushla."

Birkoff pulled Declan away from his arousal. "You can’t take my love without believing in me, Dec. I won’t let you."

Declan lay his head against his lover’s abdomen, his cheek resting on his satin-smooth skin. A tiny tear trickled from the corner of Declan’s eye onto that skin, and Birkoff skimmed the backs of his fingers through Declan’s now unruly hair.

Birkoff tried not to think about the possibility of losing Declan, his dark eyes growing wet again. But he summoned all his strength to resist Declan’s sensual pull. He wanted him. Of course, he wanted him. He loved him with all his heart.

"Dec, as different as we are...you and me are a lot alike." Birkoff cleared his throat, which was thickening with unspent emotion. "I am so jealous of anyone else taking so much as a fraction of your love...I can’t see straight. And I think...you feel the same way."

Declan nodded, his cheek rubbing softly against his partner’s abdomen.

"I don’t know how to convince you that I’m not screwing around. But I’m not. I don’t want to lose you." Birkoff clapped a hand over his mouth, in an effort to prevent a sob from escaping, but the anguished, strangled sound that emanated from him captured Declan’s attention.

Declan abandoned all thoughts of bringing his lover’s arousal to full fruition. Settling Birkoff comfortably in his arms, Declan held him, suddenly finding that reasonable doubt was outrageously poor company on a cold spring afternoon.

Threading his fingers through Birkoff’s silky dark hair, Declan kissed his lover’s cheeks, one at a time, before moving on to his mouth. He heard Birkoff’s groan. It was a sound so filled with both pleasure and pain, it resonated throughout Declan’s body. "Oh, no, acushla, I’m never letting you go. I’m so sorry you even think that I could," he whispered.

He drew back, brushing Birkoff’s wavy hair back from his face. "It’s just that when you’re not here with me, I miss you so much." Declan laughed sadly. He just had to ask. "Do you miss me, even a little?"

Birkoff sniffed, burying his face against Declan’s magnificent long red hair. "Dec, you know what a scaredy-cat I am..."

"About going out and being with people?" Declan asked.

Birkoff nodded, his breathing erratic to Declan’s ear. "I’ve been trying to be brave...trying to get to know people and all..." Another choked sob caught Declan’s attention.

"But something happened," Declan guessed. "What happened, Sey?"

Birkoff pressed his mouth against Declan’s ear, his voice coming in low, harsh, staccato bursts. "I was so...proud of myself...the man-manager was going...to make me...his assistant."

Declan made a tortured sound deep in his throat. Unless he missed his guess, he knew what was coming. "And?"

Birkoff closed his eyes, seeing it all over again. Hot color swept through his cheeks, burning to the point where Declan literally felt the heat coming off his lover’s skin. Declan’s grip on Birkoff tightened. "What happened?"

"He touched me." There. He’d blurted it out.

Declan pushed him away, ever so slightly, so he could look into his eyes. "Where?"

"He put his arm around me...and..."

"And what else, Sey?" Declan was starting to breathe hard. No one threatened Birkoff. Not while he was still alive.

"Did he kiss you?" Declan tried to determine if Birkoff had been assaulted, but then, he realized that assault can take many different forms. Just being touched without his permission, for Birkoff, would be a violation of sorts.

Birkoff nodded. "Worse...he stuck...his tongue in my...mouth."

All at once, Declan sat up, taking his lover with him. "Did he say anything, anything at all?"

Birkoff whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, "He said I was delicious."

Declan started pulling on his shirt. He climbed out of bed, stalked to where his jeans lay on the floor, and pulled them on. Christ, and to think, he’d nearly kept Birkoff from telling him any of this. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, feeling as if his emotions were in just as much disarray as his hair.

Birkoff followed Declan’s lead, pulling on his clothing as quickly as possible. "The thing is, Dec, I like my job. I really want to stay there."

Declan spun around, his eyes wide. "You want to keep working for that son-of-a-bitch?" he nearly shouted.

"No..." Birkoff looked conflicted. "Why do things have to be so complicated, Dec?" he wailed.

"You’ve just discovered one of the joys of real life, Sey. That’s how it is on the outside," Declan said as he fastened his jeans.

"Maybe it was my fault, Dec," Birkoff said in a small voice. "Maybe I was sending him some kind of message."

"Don’t you dare blame yourself, Sey! I know you!" Declan’s vehemence surprised both of them. Then his manner softened again. He leaned over to kiss Birkoff. His lips tender, sweetly seeking a way inside, Declan nudged Birkoff’s mouth open. Birkoff’s automatic response was to wrap his arms around Declan’s neck, pulling him closer still.

"I know you," Declan echoed, realizing it was true. He did know his lover. Inside and out. There was no way he would believe that Birkoff willingly invited the manager’s caress and subsequent invasion of his body. Birkoff was not a naturally seductive person, and what wiles he had, he lavished upon Declan alone. Declan’s heart grew whole again, even as he felt anger charge through him at the thought of anyone plundering the treasure he called Kieran.

Birkoff raised hopeful eyes to Declan’s. "What are you going to do?"

"I want you to be happy, acushla. When you’re happy, I’m happy. At least, that’s the way it should be." Declan picked at imaginary lint on his lover’s T-shirt, using it as just another excuse to touch him.

Declan came to a decision. His eyes caught fire, their silvery depths alight with something. Something almost dangerous.

"First, I’ve got to meet this...prince..." Birkoff blushed, certain that was not the word that Declan originally chose.

"He must be a little crooked. Which is good. Cause I’m just the man to straighten him out." Declan’s face darkened. Birkoff wasn’t certain even he could stop him in this mood. But then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

"And then? Declan, what about my job?" Birkoff asked anxiously.

"You want to work in a bookstore, Sey? There are other bookstores. We’ll find you another bookstore, Sey." Declan’s tone was fierce, his manner leonine. Like the proverbial lion defending his pride, he wouldn’t stop till honor was satisfied.

"You would do that for me, Declan?" Birkoff gazed raptly at his lover, who constantly surprised him even as he stayed reassuringly the same.

"Aye," he whispered, kissing Birkoff softly. "I protect what’s mine, love."

With that, Declan swept the bedroom door open and stopped. "Hell, while we’re at it, Sey, why don’t you buy a bookstore? Then you can run it, and you won’t have to worry about working...under...anyone."

Birkoff smiled. "That’s an interesting idea, Dec, but it would be an awful lot of work."

Declan nodded.

Birkoff sidled up to Declan, his long slender hands caressing their way under Declan’s T-shirt. "Besides, you’re the only one I ever want to be...under."

"You wouldn’t want to work for me, boyo, I’d run your sweet little ass ragged," Declan said with a chuckle.

Birkoff eyed Declan mischievously. "Maybe you should work for me."

Declan threw his head back and laughed. "Christ, I think I already do."

Nikita giggled as her husband ran his fingers down the back of her neck. "Mi-chael...what are you doing?"

"Warming up my fingers." It was still relatively cool for spring, and Michael had just come in from playing with the twins.

Giving her a quick glance, he turned to face her, leaning back against the dining room table. "What are you going to wear tonight?"

"Tonight?" she asked, sounding mildly puzzled.

"To Madeline’s housewarming."

"Oh," she shrugged. "I dunno. A dress, I guess." She sounded bored or worse, indifferent.

He reached out to touch her face with his fingertips. "Ki-ta...I want to know..."

"Why?" Now Nikita looked vaguely vexed.

He smiled. "So I’ll know how hard it’ll be to get you out of it," he whispered.

"Mi-chael!" Nikita flushed, her cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

He bent down to nuzzle her neck, and she wriggled away somehow, smoothing her hands down the front of her thighs. "Kita, it’s been over two months."

"I know," she said, quite aware that she sounded like an obstinate toddler, digging in her heels for the count. She refused to look at him, a sure sign that she was hiding something.

"Everything’s okay between us...except for that," he explained unnecessarily.

She did look at him then, fear flashing through her bright blue eyes for one second. "I think sex is highly overrated."

Michael raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face as still as if it were set in stone. He launched himself away from the table, moving closer to his wife, his mouth so near, his breath tantalized her senses. "How long are you going to punish both of us for losing the baby?"

"I’m not...I’m...not."

"You’re afraid of getting pregnant again, Kita. Admit it." Michael challenged Nikita to deny the truth, but she couldn’t. She remembered what happened the last time she attempted to do that. She wouldn’t hurt him that way again.

"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes on unshed tears.

He stroked her hair, his hands gentling her even as she trembled under his touch. "Ki-ta...I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"I know," she said almost inaudibly.

"Then come with me. We’ll go upstairs and pick out something beautiful for you to wear." Michael’s voice was seductive, softly commanding her to follow his direction.

He kissed her lightly. "We’ll go next door...we’ll eat something...we’ll dance. You like to dance, Kita. We haven’t danced in such a long time, doucette."

Nikita’s eyes remained shut. He really was hypnotizing her. She would do anything he asked of her. "Oh, yes, Michael," she sighed. She wanted so badly to dance with him again.

He kissed her again, this time more urgently, as if the feel of her lips under his aroused him unbearably. It did. They slept together every night. Wrapped in one another’s arms. Her head on his chest. Against his heart. But they had not made love since Nikita’s miscarriage.

He didn’t blame her. Truly he didn’t. He understood.

"Then...when we come home...we’ll go upstairs...and make love." He felt Nikita tense against him.

"Michael..."

He knew a protest when it was about to be voiced. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not this time. "No, Kita. We *will* make love. We can’t live the rest of our lives as if that part of us no longer exists."

"Oh, Michael." She flung her arms around his neck then, sobbing against his chest. "Only you would wait for me like this. Only you. You’re the only one who understands. You’re the only one who knows how I feel."

He welcomed the tears. They were the first sign of life after the long parched days that followed the miscarriage. Winding his hands through her long pale hair, he pressed a tender kiss to the silvery trail of tears that spilled down one cheek. Feeling his lips against her skin made her shiver. Moments later, without thinking, she turned her head to catch his mouth with hers.

"I love you, Michael."

"I love you, too, doucette."

Nikita and Michael sprung apart as the two young men on a mission barreled through the house. Nikita smoothed her hair back as they passed. "Is there a fire somewhere?"

Declan stopped at the front door, looking back over his shoulder, a tense expression set on his face. Pausing as if choosing his words very carefully, he said, "I’ve gotta see a dog about a man."

Birkoff chuckled, realizing that the message went completely over the heads of Michael and Nikita. "Don’t ask," he said with a grin, following Declan out the door.

"But aren’t you two coming to Mom’s housewarming?" Nikita yelled after them.

"We’ll be there!" Declan called back, cupping his hands over his mouth.

When he turned back to Birkoff, he found his lover looking at him curiously. "We’re going to Maddy’s homecoming?"

"Housewarming, Sey."

"Homecoming, housewarming. Whatever. Do we have to, Dec?" Birkoff looked as thrilled as a man contemplating dinner after he’s been told the food is poisoned.

"Yep," Declan said tersely, in a tone that brooked no refusal.

He opened the door to the Jeep for Birkoff, at the last moment preventing him from getting inside. "Sey..."

"Yeah, Dec?"

Declan smiled enigmatically. "Maddy said there’s going to be dancing."

Birkoff shrugged. "So?"

Declan leaned over and whispered in Birkoff’s ear, "I’m going to dance with you tonight, acushla."

Thinking that Declan was making a double entendre, Birkoff smiled and winked. "Twice in one day? You did miss me, Dec."

Declan laughed, adding in a low voice, "No, love, I mean it. I’ve been dying to slow dance with you for ages."

"Well, if that’s all it takes to make you happy, Dec, you’re easily satisfied," Birkoff quipped with a grin.

Declan’s eyes smoldered until they were the color of molten silver. "Ah, now, I didn’t say that."

***

When Declan strode into the bookstore, it was as if time stopped. About a hundred or more years ago, in the Old West, Declan would have been a gunslinger, Birkoff, his true love in distress. The manager? Not quite Snidely Whiplash, but definitely one of the world’s seedier villains.

As soon as the manager caught sight of Birkoff, he reprimanded him. "Now where the hell did you disappear to? It’s Saturday! Our busiest day!"

He wagged a thick finger at Birkoff. "Don’t make me regret making you assistant manager!"

Birkoff didn’t say a word. Declan made him swear to let him take care of everything. He had every confidence he would. This might very well be the worst day of Mr. Jameau’s life.

"Well, don’t you have anything to say?" the manager continued belligerently.

Birkoff blinked.

Declan took a menacing step forward. All he needed was a gun at his hip to complete the mental picture Birkoff had of him. Once he had been afraid of a Man in Black. Now he depended on one.

"You got something to say to Mr. Birkoff here, you need to go through me, boyo."

The clerk at the cash register near the door nearly swallowed her gum. The inventory clerks in the back were literally vying for a clear view of what they were certain would be a fight worth writing home about.

Declan never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. He was the epitome of cool. Mr. Jameau, on the other hand, was frowning and mopping a brow that was starting to sweat.

"And just who the hell are you?" the manager barked.

Birkoff took a step backward. He had a feeling things were about to get messy.

"I’m your worst nightmare."

Mr. Jameau laughed. "Sounds like something out of a Schwarzenegger movie."

Declan smiled tightly. "I expect you to apologize to Mr. Birkoff. I suggest you do it now."

"Or else? Isn’t that what you thug types usually say?" Jameau started to look decidedly nervous, perhaps finally grasping the message that Declan was sending him.

Regaining his poise, the manager said haughtily, "Why on earth would I need to apologize to him? He works for me."

"Not anymore he doesn’t. And unless you want every employee in the immediate area to know your private business," Declan glanced around to demonstrate just how many overanxious eyes and ears were tuned into this confrontation, "I would apologize. Now."

"Declan, don’t," Birkoff said softly, standing directly behind his lover.

Declan cocked his head, as if he’d just heard an annoying little noise he wished to ignore. Narrowing his eyes even further, if that were possible, he glared fiercely at the manager. "You picked on the wrong person today. He’s with me."

"Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? That makes all the difference," Jameau commented snidely.

"Declan!" Birkoff’s face flamed. "Christ, you just outed me in the middle of the freaking mall!"

Declan turned just enough that he could see Birkoff, unwilling to turn his back on Jameau. Smiling with deliberate slowness, Declan said, "I did? Why, so I did."

Birkoff nearly wrung his hands. "I can’t believe you did that, Dec! Now I can never work here again! I--" It took a moment, but Birkoff suddenly came to a startling conclusion.

"Shit! You did that on purpose!" Birkoff accused.

Declan’s smile grew wider. "Did I?"

Birkoff sighed.

Declan returned his focus to the original target, Jameau. "How would you like to run this bookstore, Sey?" Declan nodded to himself. "Yeah, I bet you could get it fairly cheap right now."

"That’s blackmail!" sputtered the manager.

"Actually, it’s extortion, but why get lost in the details?" At times like this, Declan missed his gun. He would have dearly loved to have shot the slimy little pig right where he stood. Every time he thought about this creature putting his tongue inside Birkoff’s mouth, he wanted to throw up.

Birkoff glanced from his lover to his former manager. "No, thanks. This place has...bad vibes."

Someone in the back of the store snickered, and suddenly everyone was laughing. All at once, people were pouring out of the woodwork, clapping Birkoff on the back, giving him the high five. "Wh-what?"

One of the clerks stopped long enough to explain. "We’ve been waiting for someone to put that bast--uh, jerk, in his place for years. Thank you!"

Birkoff rolled his eyes. "Dec, can we please get out of here?"

Declan spared the manager one last fierce look. "You mind what I said now, and treat your help with the respect they deserve."

The manager almost bowed in deference to Declan, muttering under his breath, "Yes, yes, sir."

With that accomplished, they exited the mall. Stopping outside the Jeep, Birkoff pulled on Declan’s arm. Declan still looked stern, but his eyes were sparkling, the color of a glacial lake in winter.

Sighing, Declan said, "You object to my methods."

"I object to you telling everyone in the damned mall that I’m--never mind." He started to get into the Jeep, but this time, Declan stopped him.

"You’d rather pretend to be something you’re not?" Declan seemed genuinely puzzled.

"I don’t pretend that I’m not. I just don’t see why it has to enter the mix at all."

Declan shook his head. "I don’t understand."

"What he did would be just as obnoxious, no matter what I was. Male, female, straight or g--"

"You’re right, Sey. But you seem to have trouble with the word. It’s gay."

Birkoff leaned forward, his mouth brushing Declan’s in a quick kiss. "I don’t have trouble with the word. I just don’t like other people knowing my private business, that’s all. It has nothing to do with us being *gay*."

Pressing his mouth so close to Declan’s that when he spoke, his lips caressed him, Birkoff said, "You can call me ‘honey boy’ in private, and I would be thrilled. But if you told everyone at the store that I hate broccoli, I would die of embarrassment. Does that put things back in perspective?"

Declan kissed him, a sweet, tender kiss that attested to the magnitude of love and affection they shared. "I stand corrected. Honey boy."

"Then you admit, what you did was very manipulative, Declan. Forcing me not to come back here to work." But for some reason, Birkoff didn’t seem particularly put out by that fact.

Declan stared at his lover’s mouth, wanting it with a hunger that was painful to deny. "Aye," he whispered.

"But I love you for it. No one’s ever cared that much about what happened to me."

Declan succumbed to the desire that raged through him, re-surfacing a moment later. Laughing. "Christ, I just kissed you in the freaking parking lot! Any minute now, anxious mums are going to be pointing us out to their kids. As an example of who to stay away from."

"I love it when you forget who you are, Dec, and just live in the moment like that," Birkoff whispered reverently.

So Declan kissed him again.