Cherie Noel A Rescue Twinks 03 By Any Other Name

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By Any Other

Name

A Rescue Twinks Novel

Cherie Noel

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Dedication

This story is for Jambie Jo, because she

had faith in my ability to become a

published author long before it happened. I

couldn’t ask for a better fairy godmother, or

a better friend. Muah. Thank you for the

writing challenges, the encouragement, the

sounding boards, and the sound advice.

And as always, thank you for introducing

me to my Balthazar, who gave me the tools

to tap into my magic.

~ 4 ~

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This book should not be copied in any format, sold,

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another through upload to a file sharing peer to

peer program, for free or for a fee,

or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal

everywhere except the land of UtaDamDenial. It is

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It takes the author’s hard earned ducats (that’s

greenbacks to you) right out of their pockets.

Just don’t do it.

Cover Artist: A.J. Corza

Editor: Val Hughes

ISBN # CN003

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Attention Readers: This book uses Ameriglish.

English speakers from other countries should

consider themselves warned… there will be donuts

rather than doughnuts.

may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means, including electronic or

photographic reproduction, in whole or in part,

without express written permission of the publisher.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead

is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material

is being used for illustrative purposes only; any

person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a

model.

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TRADEMARKS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The author acknowledges the trademarked status

and

trademark owners of the following wordmarks

mentioned

in this work of fiction:

FetLife: © BitLove Inc

Lincoln Town Car:

Manufacturing Co.

YouTube: © YouTube LLC.

LLC.

Greyhound:

Looney Tunes: © Warner Bros.

Bugs Bunny: © Warner Bros.

Darth Vader: © Lucasfilm/Disney

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"Wheel of Fortune" is a registered trademark of

Califon Productions, Inc.

****

Additional Acknowledgements

Patrick Fiori

Justin Bieber

Andrej Pejic

James Blunt

Vanna White

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Chapter One

Andy stomped his small foot with no

regard for the possible damage to his favorite

boots. He threw both hands in the air. Gah, what

was the point in being worried about Italian leather

when this—Dumkopf—kept doing things he had no

business doing? Michael’s ridiculous behavior was

just too much. After Andy specifically forbade

Michael showing up unannounced to replace spark

plugs and fan belts, the big idiot had taken to

showing up at Andy's job.

Eh, to be fair, it was really where they both

worked. Michael didn't give a damn that Andy was

his boss. Andy closed his eyes for a moment,

burying his face in both hands. For crying out loud,

the guys down in the security office were having a

field day with the fact that one of Andy's faux-

Santas from the Christmas Village kept showing

up when he was off shift to work on Andy's bright

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 9 ~

yellow and black Nova. Andy stomped his foot

harder, completely exasperated now.

“You can't keep doing this Michael.”

Michael backed out from under the hood of

Andy’s battered Chevy Nova, wiping his hands on

a bright red cloth sitting on the edge of the engine.

He tilted his head to one side and grinned up at

Andy from his bent over position. Andy dragged

his eyes away from the finely sculpted ass Michael

had on display with difficulty. Michael winked at

him, and then once again tried to get Andy to

accept charity from him.

“If you'd just let me buy you a decent car, I

wouldn't have to spend so much time fixing this

old clunker up, Andy. You know I have all that

money I saved up when I was in the service. Let

me spend some of it on you.”

Andy ground his teeth together, and then

marched forward. Grabbing hold of Michael, he

pulled at the larger man's arm, attempting to pull

him around. Michael just grunted, not moving a

single inch, despite Andy giving the effort his all.

By Any Other Name

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~ 10 ~

Andy lifted a booted foot to kick Michael's--well,

he couldn't reach the damn giant's ass. He could

kick him in the shin though.

Michael set his wrench down with a clang,

spinning around to catch Andy around the waist

and lift him right off his feet. He took two steps

down the side of the car, and then pressed Andy up

against the side of the vehicle.

“Andy. Babe, I told you what happens

when you misbehave. Do you remember?”

Andy's voice shook as he replied, and his

heart raced. “You kiss me?”

Michael bent his head, his deep blue eyes

twinkling. A rakish little smile tipped one corner of

his mouth up. “You know it babe.”

Andy allowed his inclinations to overcome

his good sense, just this once. He let his head fall

back, expecting to feel the cold roof of his old car

against his hair. Instead, a big, warm hand cradled

the back of his skull. A pleased smirk flickered

across his cupid bow mouth right before Michael’s

firm lips pressed against his. Andy closed his eyes.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 11 ~

If he couldn't see the look on Michael’s face, he

could pretend a man like Michael would want to

kiss him for something besides behavior

modification.

Michael groaned, reaching up with his

other hand to cup Andy’s jaw and apply pressure

against the side. Andy obligingly opened his

mouth. Even if it didn't mean anything, he'd

learned over the past couple of weeks that Michael

kissed exactly the way Andy liked best, wet and

deep with a hint that he wouldn't take no for an

answer. It didn’t mean anything. Michael was

straight. If Andy had a dollar for every time he’d

heard Michael say that in high school, he’d have

enough money in the bank to pay off a year’s

worth of mortgage payments.

Andy sighed when Michael tightened his

grip. Michael slid his fingers deeper into Andy's

hair, pulling enough to make his scalp sting a tiny

bit. Andy melted, all his muscles relaxing to the

point he felt utterly boneless. The only exception

to the overall relaxation was his cock, which

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 12 ~

hardened in a rush, pushing and pulsing against the

front of his charcoal grey dress pants.

Michael leaned into him, his chest pressing

Andy hard against the top of the car. He released

Andy's jaw, sliding his hand down along Andy's

throat to his shoulder. Michael kept his hand

moving, running it down Andy's side to his hip.

When he reached the hip, he squeezed, pulling his

head back at the same time.

Andy opened his eyes, a whimper slipping

from his lips at the same time. “No, don't stop.”

Michael grinned. “Well, I'm not sure that's

much of a punishment. Maybe next time you're

naughty I ought to not kiss you.”

****

Even as he spoke the words, Michael knew

himself for the liar he was. Nothing on the face of

the earth could stop him kissing Andy breathless

every chance he got. Nothing. He drew back a

little, just to watch the clear crystal blue of Andy’s

By Any Other Name

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~ 13 ~

eyes appear when he blinked them open. They had

to talk about Adrien’s job, but Michael really

didn’t want to piss Andy off. He’d just coaxed

Andy into allowing their first kiss less than a

month ago, and he was damned if he wanted to

jeopardize their shaky status quo with an argument

over Adrien.

Andy beat him to the punch line, as usual.

“You’re here to yell at me about Adrien’s

job, aren’t you? Michael, it was out of my hands.

I’m just the stupid manager here. None of you

guys ever get that. I have to follow the rules too.

One of the owners fired Adrien, not me. I wish I

could do something for him… but I can’t. He’ll be

okay. Adrien’s got his folks and Devon to look

after him until he finds another job, doesn’t he?

He’ll be fine.”

Andy looked down as he spoke. His voice

grew tighter the longer he spoke. His shoulders

hunched up a little as though he braced for a blow.

In that moment, Michael heard what he

never had before in Andy’s voice. The weight of it

By Any Other Name

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pulled the air from his lungs. Sucking in a rush of

air that felt like splinters of glass stabbing into his

lungs, Michael tilted Andy’s chin back up.

“Andy. You do know that we’d all look out

for you exactly the same, don’t you?”

Andy shook off his hand, pushing against

his chest until Michael relented, allowing the

smaller man to slip to the ground next to the

battered Nova. He cast a grin that trembled at the

edges up at Michael. Then he looked off to the side

as he spoke.

“Sure. Um, were you finished poking at my

car, Michael? I gotta get home to get things ready

for the party tonight. The rest of the guys are

counting on me, and I don’t want to mess up.”

Michael lifted a hand to trail his cold

fingers along the still tender looking scar high on

Andy’s cheek. “Yeah. Give me a minute to reattach

everything. Ah, you better let me ride along,

though. I’m not sure if I got everything right, and

I’d hate for you to get stranded.”

Andy squinted up at him, eyes moving

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

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back and forth as he seemed to assess Michael’s

sincerity. After a moment, he lifted one shoulder.

“Okay. I can’t promise to bring you back right

away though.”

Michael grinned down at Andy, noting the

way the cold put a red flush in his cheeks and

made his perfectly outlined eyes sparkle. “That’s

okay, babe. I’ll help you get stuff set up so you

have time to bring me back.”

Andy flushed an even brighter shade of red.

Pushing away from the car, he stomped around the

front of the vehicle to the driver’s side door. “Ugh.

I keep telling you not to call me babe. Asshole.”

Turning away from Michael, Andy yanked

on the rust spotted car’s ever so slightly bent door

handle. He huffed and flounced his way into the

car. The entire frame shook when he slammed the

Nova’s door, and a big flake of rusting metal broke

off the bottom edge of the door. Michael stepped

back and watched with a smile on his face.

Planning out when and where he’d replace the

door amused him as he sauntered back around to

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

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the front of the car, rapping on the driver’s side

window in passing.

“Just give me a second to get everything

put back together, alright?”

Then he stuck his head under the hood,

replaying the kiss and the possessive feeling

leaving Andy’s lips reddened roused in him.

Michael muttered to himself as he finished

reattaching wires and cables where they belonged.

“You’re my angel, Andy, and one day soon

I’ll prove it to you, babe. I’ll figure out how to

show you that you belong to me in a way you

understand—one that doesn’t hurt you. Then

you’ll understand you’ve been my angel all along.”

~ 17 ~

Chapter Two

Andy concentrated on the thump, thump,

thumping sound of his wheels rolling over the

thunder strips. The soothing sound helped keep

him from screaming at Michael every time traffic

slowed down and he had to shift gears. The

gearshift kept catching on the sleeve of Michael’s

coat. The asphalt or cement or whatever it was

changed, and instead of a nice humming noise he

could distract himself with there was a grating

crunch as the wheels rolled against the faded

blackish surface of Highway 175. Every single

time Michael reached to change the radio, or

scratch his nose, or whatever, his hand or the side

of his arm would slide against Andy’s arm. They’d

barely made it out of the city limits on their way to

Auburn, and all Andy wanted to do was veer off at

the next exit, find a nice secluded spot and do

By Any Other Name

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something wicked enough Michael felt the need to

‘punish’ him. Oh god, he had to stop thinking

about this.

Despite the need to keep his cool, Andy

stole glances at Michael from the corner of his eye.

The way Michael’s head brushed the ceiling, his

shoulders reached past the confines of the

passenger seat, and his blue-green gaze caressed

the right side of Andy’s face was like whisper, or a

promise of all of Andy’s dearest dreams. Michael’s

size made it easier for Andy to breathe. Nothing

could get past the comforting bulk of the man.

Andy should know.

The thought jumped straight from his brain

to his hands. They clenched on the steering wheel,

and for a moment, Andy’s knuckles turned white.

A hard knot formed in the center of his chest,

sending snaking tendrils out to grasp the back of

his neck and hook into the tender walls of his

stomach. Everything connected back in a writhing

mass of memories as tangled as the uncountable

reptilian bodies in a

hibernaculum

or winter snake

By Any Other Name

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sanctuary.

Two years ago, right after Michael got out

of the Army, he’d saved Andy’s life. Devon Soto

had come to Syracuse for one glorious month, and

for one magical weekend Andy thought he’d

finally found the armor clad knight of his shiny

gay-boy dreams. Andy bit the inside of his cheek

hard. Devon had rolled out of his bed on the

evening of the third day, smacked Andy lightly on

the ass and grinned easily.

“I’ll miss this sweet ass. Maybe we can

hook up again next time I’m in town.”

Andy had frozen. By the time his brain and

tongue thawed enough to form words and

sentences, Devon was half-way back to Germany.

Then Andy had found FetLife and a man who

called himself a Dom. His name was Patrick

Schwartz, and he promised to take away all of the

tiring decisions. Andy knew what he liked.

Sometimes, though, being in charge of everything

was exhausting. He just wanted someone else to

decide. He wanted to be free to feel.

By Any Other Name

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Patrick wanted to be free to do whatever he

wanted. He told Andy that was how it worked.

Nobody said any different, not that Andy knew of

anyone he would have told about his latest crack-

brained idea. Well, except Michael. He left

Michael a message, knowing he wouldn’t pick it

up until sometime late the next day. Michael

worked a double, came home, slept, rolled out of

bed, went back to work, and listened to the

message two days later.

When he got to Patrick’s house, Andy was

locked in a cage in the basement. Naked except for

a butt plug designed to look like a dog’s tail in his

ass and a ball gag in his mouth. The plug was held

in place by a padlocked harness around Andy’s

waist and the ball gag likewise secured with the

tiniest padlock Michael had ever seen. Even if

Andy’s hand’s had been free—which they

weren’t—Michael didn’t see how he’d have been

able to get out of the bondage gear without the

keys to those locks.

Patrick had already fucked his “new puppy”

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~ 21 ~

twice, with enthusiastic co-operation from Andy

the first time, and slightly irritated permission the

second, before Andy realized Patrick played this

game by rules Andy didn’t understand enough to

agree to when he was signing up to play. The ball

gag happened after the first time they fucked,

when Andy thought the tail was a bit much and

complained. Patrick said puppies couldn’t speak

without permission, not to say no, and they didn’t

have safe words. That would just be stupid,

because, of course a dog wouldn’t be able to say

no. They wouldn’t want to, because puppies loved

their masters. They only wanted to please them.

Andy thought saying yes to being a puppy

meant that later, when they knew each other better,

they’d fuck doggie style exclusively, and he’d

always catch. He usually preferred to bottom

anyway, so that part was no hardship. He certainly

didn’t understand that to Patrick that meant he’d

given away all rights, effective immediately.

Okay, so Michael didn’t literally save his

life—but he saved Andy none-the-less. Michael

By Any Other Name

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~ 22 ~

had kicked in the thick wooden door to Patrick

Schwartz’s house a few hours after he got off work

that night, almost immediately after he got the

message. He’d been like an avenging angel; his

eyes alight with green and amber sparks of rage

burning in their dark blue depths. Andy had almost

expected Michael to whip a sword out of some

imaginary sheath and proclaim in a thunderous

voice that he was there to judge Patrick for the sins

he’d committed against Andy. He may have

attended one too many church services with an

overzealous minister.

At any rate, the two things Andy

remembered most clearly from that day were the

sound the door made as the wood around the lock

splintered, and how gently Michael had carried

him. He’d had to carry Andy out, because by then

walking wasn’t an option. In between the door

breaking and the carrying Andy could only recall a

series of wet thudding sounds, and Michael

saying—no, shouting—about how Patrick was a

fucking idiot and how any Dom worth the title

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~ 23 ~

would never let a sub sign a contract until the sub

understood precisely what they were signing up for.

Michael unlocked the cage, but before he could

pull Andy out Patrick got back up, and tried to stop

him. Michael turned around and started beating the

holy hell out of Patrick. Andy had tried to crawl

out of the cage and stand up at that point. He’d

wanted to reassure Michael, but his legs hadn’t

worked well enough to hold him up. Then they’d

been out of the house, and Andy hadn’t cared

anymore as long as he never had to see Patrick or

his damned basement/kennel again.

The Nova swerved into the oncoming lane.

Andy reached up to touch his scarred cheek, a

bittersweet smile curving his full mouth as he

corrected the car’s trajectory with his free hand.

Michael started to rumble something at him. Andy

cut him off. His words ricocheted around the

inside of the inside of the car like tiny bits of

emotional shrapnel.

“Patrick hurt me on purpose you know. But

Adrien did more damage in one moment than that

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~ 24 ~

bastard did in two whole days. Sometimes I wish I

could hate him, almost as much as I wish I could

hate you.”

Michael’s big hand covered Andy’s leg

from just above his knee to mid-thigh. He

squeezed once, the pressure hard enough to almost

hurt. Andy took his eyes from the road for a split

second, just long enough to give Michael as acid

filled look. Michael laughed at him, his hand

flexing one more time before he lifted it to set it

harmlessly back in his own lap. Without taking his

eyes from the road this time, Andy reached across

the seat between them to smack his hand into

Michael as hard as he could. He got a cheap thrill

from the pained grunt the big guy gave.

“Geez, Andy, I might want the equipment

in working order later, did you ever think of that?”

The smile grew until it felt as though it

would take over the whole lower half of his face.

Michael grunted, and then that big hand fell on

Andy’s leg again. This time Michael didn’t

squeeze. Instead he simply rested his hand there,

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~ 25 ~

letting the warmth seep through Andy’s charcoal

grey pants. Without conscious thought, Andy’s

hand released the still cold plastic of the steering

wheel. He didn’t manage to connect with any piece

of Michael though. His hand was captured in the

same gentle, inexorable hold Michael always used

with him. Andy wrinkled his nose. Then he pulled

his hand to his own mouth and nipped the edge of

one of Michael’s fingers.

“You don’t want to start that so far from

home, Andy. I have no problem paddling your ass

right here on the side of the road and then fucking

you until you can’t walk straight for a week.”

As Michael spoke this time, his voice

dropping into a gritty, whiskey-tinged growl, Andy

could almost feel a slow burn starting in his ass

and spreading out to linger low in his gut. He

squirmed a little, pressing his lips together in a

thoughtful line before he replied.

“Ha. As if you would. I know you’d never

take it that far Michael. You know I like getting

spanked. I know you like to have sex with girls. I

By Any Other Name

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~ 26 ~

don’t know why you say such outrageous things.

You don’t mean them.”

Michael didn’t answer.

Andy ground his teeth together. He would

give almost anything to push the Dumkopf to the

place where he lost control. However, he really

would prefer to do so in close range of his big

comfy king-sized bed. Also, he wanted to make

sure, like he always did now, that the person he

was contemplating playing with was on the same

page as him. No could mean yes… but Teapot

meant stop everything right now… Andy had

learned his lesson. He didn’t play unless everyone

agreed to the same rules beforehand.

****

Michael watched as Andy withdrew

without moving a single inch from where he was

sitting. The snow that had been falling earlier

turned to a cold rain, and the windows of the old

Nova began to steam up. Andy’s knuckles went

By Any Other Name

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~ 27 ~

white on the steering wheel again, and Michael

cast about in his mind for something to say that

would take away the tight set at the corner of

Andy’s mouth, and erase the droopiness of his

shoulders. His internal screen stayed blindingly

white however. After several minutes of stealing

glances at Andy only served to make his gut

clench with the desire to muss Andy’s chic

perfection up a bit, Michael settled for grunting

and reaching over to turn on the radio. He’d put a

new one in last week, but he wasn’t sure if Andy

even realized that there was now the possibility of

music when he was commuting. Grasping the

ridged outer surface of the volume knob gently,

Michael pressed down to turn the radio on. If he

remembered correctly he’d left the tuner on—ah,

yes. The funky strains of one of his favorite songs

by Patrick Fiori came over the speakers. Andy’s

head turned quickly to the side and he stared at

Michael for long enough that Michael reached out

to grasp the steering wheel. He turned to watch the

road. Trying to steer from this side of the car was

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~ 28 ~

certainly a new one. For the love of—even Adrien

never put him in this position.

“Andy? Listen, I know I call you Angel

sometimes, but seriously I don’t want you heading

in that direction anytime soon, ya know?”

Andy simultaneously smacked his hand

away and turned back to look at the road again.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like there was

anyone coming. Geez, Michael, you are the

biggest drama queen of the bunch.”

Michael’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

Andy laughed. His whole face lit up from

within as the sounds rippled forth from his chest.

The light tenor of his voice filled the space

between them with some glittering thing that

Michael was hard pressed to find a name for.

Instead, he watched with wonder flowering in his

belly like the slow blooming warmth of a good

brandy. The scent of Andy’s cologne increased,

and sure enough a few seconds afterwards his face

flushed brightly red. Michael reached back across

the space between them to trace the edge of

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~ 29 ~

Andy’s new haircut.

“Never mind. Just tell me why you cut it?”

Andy somehow managed an even brighter

shade of red, and ducked his chin toward his chest.

“I—it was getting stuck to the stitches. I worried

that it would get infected, and I thought—”

Understanding hit Michael like a fist to the

gut. Somewhere along the line, Andy had gotten

the notion that his only contribution to any

relationship lay in either his looks or in his ability

to take a beating without complaint. His stomach

roiled, and bile rose up his throat in a hot and sour

tide. For fuck’s sake, he bet Andy had been

religious about keeping the cut clean. It wasn’t

long, maybe an inch and a half to two inches from

one end to the other. Though the thin pink line

meandered a bit, there was no puckering… the

overall effect was to make Andy appear a little

rakish, and only enhanced his stunning good looks.

But Andy worried. The blush and downturned

head told that story loud and clear.

“Oh. If the cut got infected, you’d have a

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~ 30 ~

really bad scar there, huh?”

Andy flicked a quick glance over toward

Michael, his eyes turning away from the road for

the barest moment before he looked ahead again.

His mouth tightened back down into the same

unhappy line as before, and Michael’s lungs

suddenly felt empty of air. He pasted a sickly

feeling grin across his mouth and bit the inside of

his cheek to keep from screaming at the injustice

of what had happened. A strained silence fell

between them, with Andy focusing with patently

false intensity on the road, and Michael

clandestinely watching Andy. The one thought

that kept echoing around in his mind was this

simple and profound. Would his timing with Andy

always suck this badly?

****

Half an hour later the same faintly bitter

silence still filled the car. Michael was fairly

certain there must be an elephant sitting on his

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~ 31 ~

chest. He couldn’t get a full breath, and every time

he thought about the stupid thing he’d said, he

wanted to kick his own ass. If he’d been this

stupid in the desert none of them would have come

back, not even with the amazing shit Sergeant Soto

had pulled out of nowhere more than once to save

them all. Michael would swear that more than

once there’d been no warning, no way of knowing

that shit was about to go sideways and still the

Sergeant had kept everyone in the squad alive long

enough to make it back. Well, at least to make it

back in body. Michael wasn’t sure that Dieterman

had actually made it all the way back from the

sands. They’d kept him from being blown to hell

and gone the day he probably was supposed to die,

but something had broken in Raymond Dieterman

that day. Michael was glad he was finally going to

be getting some help, even if it meant coming here

to Syracuse to go into a treatment program.

Andy turned the Nova into his driveway,

and started to reach for the ignition to shut the car

off. Michael caught his wrist in a loose grip. Crap,

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~ 32 ~

he’d forgotten to tell Andy about the garage door

opener.

“I put an automatic opener in for you. So

you wouldn’t have to leave your car out in the

snow all the time.”

Andy’s mouth pinched into an even thinner

line, but then he just shook his head, a reluctant

seeming smile finally curving the sulky corners of

his mouth upward. He turned and leaned back

against the driver’s side door.

“And just when did you break and enter my

home to put this automatic garage door opener in?”

Michael just laughed.

“Are you gonna press charges, babe?”

Andy snorted.

“What the hell would I say, Michael? Help,

my stalker is fixing up my house and rebuilding

my car from the ground up?”

Michael shook his head. “Stalker? Really,

Andy?”

Andy arched a sleek blond eyebrow at him,

and Michael’s pulse took up a ragged rhythm. He

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~ 33 ~

gave a close-lipped smile and waited. Sure enough,

within seconds, Andy cracked. His sapphire blue

eyes grew brighter, their color morphing from

sapphire in the sun to the blue heart of an

acetylene torch’s flame. He snorted, and then lifted

the hand he still had resting on the steering wheel

and raked it through the longer hair at the top of

his head.

“Right. And that would fly so well in the

ever progressive courts of greater Syracuse… I’d

be lucky if they didn’t arrest me for wasting their

time.”

Michael’s mind jumped to a vision of Andy

in a pair of shining silver colored handcuffs and

nothing else. Higher thought became a distant

memory as blood pooled in his groin.

“Andy?”

Andy’s eyes opened wider than Michael

had ever seen them before. What in the—okay,

maybe the low growl in his voice warranted a bit

of wide-eyed wonder. He lifted his hand, cupping

Andy’s cheek. The palm of his hand tingled as he

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~ 34 ~

touched still raw skin outlined in smooth pinpoints

where the stitches had been.

“Unless you want me to give your

neighbors one hell of a display, reach into your

center console and get the remote I put there last

week along with the note explaining what I did to

the garage. Then open the door, drive your car in

and shut it off. Get out of the car, and get your

beautiful ass into the house just as fast as you can.

Do not stop in the kitchen for a snack. Do not sit

down on your lovely blue leather sofa. Go straight

to your bedroom. Take your clothes off, kneel on

the bed and start stretching that tight little pucker

for me. Remember to get the lube and condoms

out before you get on the bed. Once you’re on the

bed I want your head down, your ass up, and by

the time I make it to the bedroom, you’d better

have at least three of those skinny fingers in your

ass to the first knuckle. Am I clear?”

Andy’s mouth dropped open in a perfect

circle of astonishment. He blinked at Michael for

four or five long seconds. He slid back into

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 35 ~

position to drive without saying a word. Reaching

for the latch of the center console without looking,

he fumbled once before managing to open the

compartment. Andy’s hand shook slightly as he

extracted the promised remote. The lid of the

console fell slowly downward, shutting with a

crisp clicking noise. Andy made a little breathy

noise at the back of his throat, pointing the remote

toward his garage and depressing the light grey

button on the surface. The door rumbled upward

with a smooth motion, which Michael noted

absently. A small furl of pride uncoiled in his chest.

Andy made that little noise again, and

Michael fought back a wash of lust burning

through his veins like rivers of lava. He wanted

Andy to make that sound when he was naked and

wanting. Michael’s nostrils flared as he struggled

for breath in the suddenly humid seeming interior

of the vehicle. The Nova eased forward, and then

rolled to a whispering stop. Andy turned to him.

“Where do I point –”

He held the remote up, lifting his eyebrows

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 36 ~

up and wrinkling his forehead. Michael plucked

the device from his hands pointing it back and up

as he did so. He unbuckled his safety belt, leaning

forward and taking hold of the handle of the

driver’s side door. Andy’s pupils dilated until there

was only a thin ring of blue showing in his eyes,

and the sound of his breath grew loud and choppy.

Michael grinned.

“Get out of that seat, Andy, and do what I

told you to do. Now.”

Andy made the tiny breath catching sound

again, and Michael leaned a fraction farther to

taste his favorite flavor again. He palmed Andy’s

jaw, applying gentle downward pressure with his

thumbs before sliding one hand around to grasp

the back of Andy’s neck. Again and again his

fingers stroked over the close cropped hair he

found there. The combination of almost prickly

and silky soft was addicting. Michael wanted to

put his mouth there, but held back. Once he put his

mouth on that spot nothing would stop his taking

Andy right where they were. He needed to wait

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 37 ~

until they had supplies on hand, and give Andy the

time to prepare himself. Growling again, he tore

his mouth away from Andy’s jaw.

“Now. Get inside now, Andy.”

Andy whimpered, but obeyed.

~ 38 ~

Chapter Three

Andy’s legs shook as he stood up out of his

seat. Michael’s face—oh, god, Michael’s face. The

way his eyes were all jewel tones of green and

amber with just hints of their normally

predominant dark blue. The muscle flexing in his

jaw as he told Andy to get the hell inside was the

final thing that shut Andy’s brain off. He wobbled

toward the door into the kitchen with one hand

pressed to his stomach and the other reaching up to

furtively touch his swollen lips.

“Oh my God.”

Dropping the house keys twice before he

got

the

door

unlocked

brought

enough

embarrassment to restore minimal brain function.

He dropped the keys on the kitchen counter as he

passed it, continuing on to his bedroom in a daze.

His bedroom faced the backyard, and had sliding

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 39 ~

glass doors to the small patio beyond. Andy had

put the patio in himself the summer after—no, he

wouldn’t think about that now. He turned to his

beautiful

walnut

dresser,

smiling

remembered the day he’d found it at the flea

market in Rochester. Michael had taken him,

saying Andy had to go. He’d been right, because

Andy had found some of his favorite pieces of

furniture that day. The walnut dresser, the old

kitchen table made of pine, and best of all his

queen sized brass bed. A shiver chased up his spine

as he thought of the sight he’d present to Michael

when he came into the bedroom.

The foot of the bed faced the door. If the

bed had straight up and down bars, or a solid

footboard the view would be impeded. Andy

smirked at his bed. The footboard was made up of

swirling tubes of brass that formed a flower with a

central circular space, which, if he positioned

himself carefully, would frame his ass perfectly.

Andy hastened over to the nightstand he’d stripped

and stained to match the dresser. He’d even

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 40 ~

managed to find brass handles that looked like the

thin pieces on the bed so the whole set tied

together. Pulling out his lube, he eyed the bottle,

shook it and then shrugged. There was enough

there for one trip to the fair, at least. They really

didn’t have time for more, and it wasn’t like

Michael would be back for seconds.

Andy’s mouth turned down at the corners

as he snagged a condom. He—hey, it wasn’t like

he wanted more from Michael than one more go

around. Well, maybe some assurance that they’d

stay friends after. He didn’t really want to think

about what life would be like without his resident

stalker-pal-annoying know it all dropping by with

regularity. Andy considered the matter as seriously

as he could with most of the blood that ought to be

fuelling his brain headed southward to his cock.

He shrugged. Even if their friendship was the price,

he’d wanted a piece of Michael ever since they

first met, and then when he finally got one it was

only due to Michael feeling sorry for him. Andy

knew some of Michael’s hands-off-treat-Andy-

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 41 ~

like-a-fragile-freaking-flower attitude was due to

the snotty, sobbing mess he’d turned into

immediately after they finished. Well, he wasn’t

planning to go all mental patient on Michael again.

He also had no intention of waiting for years to

have sex with the Dumkopf again.

Andy touched his lips again; pressing down

to feel them tingle where they were kiss-bruised.

Clearly, Michael was at least a little bent because

there was no way a totally straight man could kiss

another man like that. Shaking his head, Andy

pushed the memory of that humiliation back in the

figurative box at the back of his brain were it

belonged. At this point, with his dick so hard it

hurt, Andy really didn’t care if Michael spent the

whole time they were fucking pretending he was

some chick. He just wanted Michael’s hands all

over him, and his ass so full of Michael’s dick he

didn’t know where one of them began and the

other ended. He tossed his head to flip his hair

back and then remembered. He’d cut off most of

his hair earlier that week. He lifted one hand

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 42 ~

mournfully to touch the almost militaristically

short hair at the base of his neck. The other hand

went straight to the buttons of his shirt,

unfastening them with the ease of long practice.

Deliberately lowering his shoulders, Andy sucked

in a deep breath of the cedar-scented air of his

bedroom. The familiar scent eased something deep

within him, allowing him to release some of the

tension starting to invade his body.

Andy twitched his shoulders, focusing back

on the orders Michael had given him. He could

follow orders easily. Shucking out of his dress

pants, underwear, shoes and socks in one go Andy

kicked them all to the side next to where he’d

tossed his shirt. Michael hadn’t said anything

about neatness. He’d specified being ready when

he got to the bedroom door. Andy drew the heavy

comforter to the foot of the bed. He made sure it

was folded neatly so the line it made wouldn’t

detract visually from what he was doing when

Michael entered the room.

Then he got himself positioned on the bed

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 43 ~

with shoulders lowered and ass high in the air.

Slicking his fingers up, Andy reached around

behind himself to circle one finger around his hole.

He hadn’t had time to really play like this for

weeks, and god knew despite the fact that

everyone thought he was a total tart, it had been

years since he had someone he trusted enough to

get naked with actually express that sort of interest

in him. Oh, he went on dates, and he even blew

some of the guys... he just didn’t let them in his

pants. Skinny twinks like himself or his friend

Adrien did nothing for him sexually, and big guys,

though they did it for him... well, after the

devastation he felt about the way things went

down with Devon, and then the even worse

debacle with Patrick, he just didn’t trust them.

Except for Michael, but he’d thought that Michael

was straight. Hell, Michael banged every perky

breasted cheerleader who put out during high

school. Andy should know, since he’d been on the

cheer squad during his freshman year. That had

been Michael’s senior year, and he’d ploughed

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 44 ~

two-thirds of the cheer squad. What they did

together after Michael rescued him from Patrick’s

kennel-dungeon-weird assed basement didn’t

count. Sure, Michael had fucked him, that one

time… and yes, he’d gotten off on it, but that was

just mechanics. Nature in action. The only reason

Michael’s dick had gotten anywhere near Andy’s

ass in the first place was because Andy had flat out

begged for it. With those husky, salt soaked pleas

whispered to him in a shaking voice, by the guy

he’d just rescued… well, a guy like Michael would

never say no to that, even if his professed

preference was for bubbly, breasty, and vaginated.

The thought of those pretty, popular girls

screwing Michael caused a pang in Andy’s chest—

yeah, that would never do. Andy erased the

cheerleaders’ picture from his mind, choosing to

think of Michael sweaty and covered in mud,

muscles rippling in his football gear. They’d be

standing on the sidelines after the game, just the

two of them alone at the foot of the bleachers. His

hair would still be black like he’d dyed it during

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 45 ~

his freshman year, and Michael... well, his fantasy

Michael was exactly like the real Michael... except

fantasy Michael wanted to put his hands all over

Andy as badly as Andy wanted the same.

He slid another finger into himself quickly.

Scissoring them just a bit, he tried to hurry the

process along as much as possible. The door to the

garage opened and shut loudly. Andy grunted, eyes

flying open. He grabbed the bottle of lube, pulled

his fingers out of his hole and added more lube to

them. When he returned them to his ass he exhaled

slowly, pushing out with his internal muscles as he

thrust three fingers in.

“Good boy, Andy.”

Turning his head to glance back over his

shoulder didn’t help much. With his shoulders

down against the soft cotton sheets Andy could

only see to just past the edge of the bed. Michael

stepped quickly into view, a small smile turning

the corners of his mouth up. He was already naked,

and dear god, he looked even better than Andy

remembered from the pity fuck Michael had given

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 46 ~

him after the “doggie daycare rescue”. Then he

was on the bed leaning over Andy to whisper in his

ear. Andy stifled a grunt of protest, because even

though he hadn’t gotten to see the goods, he could

feel every inch of Michael pressed up against him.

“Yeah, you are such a good boy.”

As Michael spoke, he wrapped a hand

around Andy’s wrist and tugged. Andy’s fingers

slid out with a wet noise. Andy whimpered as a

sensation of emptiness rolled through him. He

drew a deep breath to push away the feeling. So

much of his life was empty.

Michael didn’t leave him empty long

though. Before Andy had time to voice his

dissatisfaction, Michael had suited up and pushed

against the barrier of Andy’s barely loose enough

sphincter. God, Michael’s cock really was huge.

The bite of pain grounded Andy, reminding him to

relax and push out. Then he was blissfully full

again. He craved that feeling all the time so much

that some days he even wore a plug to work. The

heavy feeling of the small plastic plug he preferred

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 47 ~

to wear to work filling him helped to ease the

tensions of his days. He liked to pretend that he’d

been told to wear one but forbidden to come. He’d

been in a rush this morning though, so he hadn’t

worn one today, but he wouldn’t make that mistake

again, especially if there was a chance of a repeat

encounter with Michael.

Michael’s hand flexed urgently against

Andy’s hip. The roughness of the touch pulled him

out of his head and back into the moment. With the

one hard hand at Andy’s hip and another spread

low on his back, Michael began to move in long

slow thrusts. The sound that left Andy’s throat then

was high and light—and very like something a

kitten would make when being petted into a limp

pile of joyous fur. In the moment, Andy could

admit to mewling, though if anyone brought the

embarrassing noise up at a later date he would

vehemently deny making it. Michael eased into a

deep, steady rhythm. He didn’t speak. In fact, he

didn’t make any sound at all. Only the flexing of

the fingers at Andy’s hip, and the light brushes of

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 48 ~

the ones Michael held against Andy’s back showed

how much the other man was feeling.

Andy’s eyes burned. With the exception of

his little brother David, Michael only touched

people fleetingly. Once, back when he’d first

started hanging around with Adrien, and the whole

‘Twink’ group, Andy overheard several of them

talking about how sad it was that Michael never

hugged anybody. Benji even asked if they thought

an intervention was needed. Andy snorted at the

memory of Benji’s earnest face as he’d asked that

question and gone on with the following.

“Sure, he’ll give a handshake in greeting, a

pat on the shoulder or, even make the occasional

exception of a quick skim of a finger along

someone’s cheek, but that’s it… and that’s just not

normal, not even for a straight guy.”

In light of a clear preference to avoid

touching most of the time, those feather light

touches moving continuously back and forth

across the small tattoo where the dip of Andy’s

back met the high curve of his ass told clearly how

By Any Other Name

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~ 49 ~

Michael felt. Andy snarled, pushing back hard and

fast against Michael’s slow thrusting.

“Dammit Michael, are we fucking or

having goddamned high tea here?”

****

Michael stilled his hand over the stylized

Japanese characters at the small of Andy’s back.

His mouth tipped up at one corner, and he thanked

every kindly force in the universe that Andy

couldn’t see his face in that moment. He slid his

thumb over the stark black lines on Andy’s back,

loving both the aesthetic of the dark shape on

Andy’s milky white skin, and the meaning behind

the shape. He released Andy’s hip for a moment to

give him a sharp tap on his thigh.

“We’re having high tea, Andy, so lift your

ass a little higher please. This form would never

pass muster at Buckingham Palace.”

Andy tried to slam back again. Moving

both hands to the smaller man’s hips, Michael

By Any Other Name

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~ 50 ~

tsked.

“Oh, that will never do. Now you’ve lost

the chance to move at all. I expect you can keep

yourself still without being tied, can’t you, Andy?”

Andy’s ass clenched around Michael’s

shaft, and for a moment, Michael couldn’t speak or

even see clearly. He squeezed his eyes shut and

sucked in a silent but deep breath. Andy shivered

under him before speaking.

“Yeah. I-I can stay still.”

Michael’s grin kicked up a notch. “Good.

Keep your hands right where they are, too.”

Andy made that breathy half-gasping sound

again, and Michael pulled his hips back slowly.

“I-M-Michael.”

Oh, hell yes. If Andy was stuttering on a

slow upstroke then Michael had just the right angle.

He pushed back in at the same torturously slow

pace. Andy let out a low whine as Michael thrust

the final inch of his cock in. Andy wriggled

slightly, but a warning flex of Michael’s hands had

him stilling immediately. Michael stretched out

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 51 ~

over Andy’s back. Brushing his lips against the

high curve of Andy’s cheek he crooned hotly into

the smaller man’s ear.

“Good boy. If you can stay still for me, I’ll

let you come.”

Andy moaned, but except for a faint

shudder rippling through him, he didn’t move at all.

That suited Michael just fine. When he’d first

discovered Andy was into BDSM he’d almost

given up. It wasn’t in him to beat Andy, not even if

that was what Andy got off on. However, with a

little research, and a whole lot of being willing to

ask stupid sounding questions, he’d figured out

that what Andy was into wasn’t so much about

pain as it was about giving up control.

Under him Andy started to tense his

muscles. Michael flexed his fingers against Andy’s

hips again to remind him to be still. Most of the

tension left the smaller man, but not all of it.

Michael thrust all the way in and stopped.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Andy let out a soft sigh. As he slid his arms

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 52 ~

behind him, he grabbed the wrist of his right arm

in his left hand. Michael lifted up onto his knees.

Keeping one hand on Andy’s hip, Michael placed

his other hand on top of Andy’s. Pressing down

slightly, he watched the last of Andy’s tension slip

away.

“You can keep still without restraints... but

you can’t relax without them, can you?”

A beat of silence passed before Andy

answered.

“No. I have to think about staying still, and

then I can’t just let go.”

Michael started up a steady rhythm again.

At the same time, he spread his hand wide over

Andy’s and got a good grasp that included the

wrist of the right arm.

“We’ll talk about that more when we’re not

fucking. For now I want you to try to pull your

arms free.”

Andy went utterly still under him, not even

wriggling.

“W-what?”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 53 ~

Michael gave another tsking sound. “You

heard me, Andy. Try to pull your arms free.”

Andy tried. Michael increased the pressure

he used until it almost reached the level that would

cause Andy actual damage.

“Enough. Lay still now. Keep your hands

right where they are.”

He let go of Andy’s wrists then, and leaned

in close to breathe his words directly into Andy’s

ear.

“See? You can’t get away unless I allow

you to. That’s what you needed to know, isn’t it?”

A small, quickly drawn in breath lifted

Andy’s sleek back. Michael had seen that exact

movement once before, and understood what it

meant. He increased the power and speed of his

thrusts, leaning a fraction farther to ensure he

stayed in contact with Andy’s prostate for as long

as possible. A tingle began low in his spine. Andy

was gasping beneath him and the fingers of his left

hand were turning white from the pressure he was

applying to keep himself still. Michael’s balls drew

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 54 ~

up hard and tight against his body. Michael

reached underneath Andy’s hips to take his long

slender cock into his hand and stroke out the same

rough rhythm he was pounding into Andy with his

hips.

“You’re doing so beautifully, Andy. You

may come.”

As soon as the words left Michael’s mouth,

Andy howled. With his back bowing and hot

spurts of come flowing over Michael’s hand to fall

against the cream colored sheets, Andy continued

to shiver and shake. Sliding his arms around his

slender lover’s chest, Michael pulled him up and

back to nestle against him as he stilled and allowed

the rhythmic contractions of Andy’s body to milk

him of his own orgasm.

After his climax eased, Michael gently

lowered Andy back to the bed, pausing to run his

fingers over the small tattoo at the base of Andy’s

spine. He wondered when Andy had gotten the

tattoo. By the look of the ink, the design was at

least two or three years old. For a moment, anger

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 55 ~

burned hot and sour in the pit of his stomach as he

recalled the events surrounding the first time he’d

seen Andy’s tattoo. Then Andy sighed, a soft

sound of repletion easing from his full lips as he

grasped Michael’s hand and pressed it against his

chest. With the gentle susurration and the

seemingly unconscious motion, Andy blew away

every iota of Michael’s anger. Pressing his lips

against the back of Andy’s neck, Michael breathed

in deeply.

Then Michael’s phone rang once, twice,

three times, pealing out some annoying damn

Bieber song. The Sergeant had obviously found a

moment alone with Michael’s phone to pay him

back for the last time Michael altered his ringtone

in the big Puerto Rican’s cell. Just before the

fourth ring sent the call to voicemail, Michael

snagged his phone off the nightstand. He had no

memory of placing it there, but he always put his

cell on the nightstand at home so he’d probably

done it on autopilot. Blowing out a warm huff of

air, he answered.

By Any Other Name

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~ 56 ~

“Hello.”

“Rose. Thank God. Come get me. Now.

I’m at Mrs. Simpson’s apartment. I’ll explain

when you get here.”

The corners of Michael’s mouth pulled

down as Andy tensed under his hands and then

pushed out of the bed, storming off into the

bathroom. Michael growled his frustration at his

former platoon sergeant’s sucky timing.

“Sarge, you’re damn lucky I owe you for

Kandahar, or I’d tell you to fuck off. I know

Adrien; whatever you did wrong was a fucking

doozy. Yeah, you’ll be explaining. I’ll be there in

about an hour and forty-five minutes—it’ll take

that long to get back to town, get your Jeep and get

back over to Adrien’s place. Don’t piss Catherine

Marie off or she’ll let that damn wolf killer of hers

eat your nuts.”

A gulping sound followed by a beat of

silence preceded Sergeant—Devon’s next words.

“I am well aware of that particular variable,

Rose. Just—thanks.”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 57 ~

Michael bit the inside of his cheek,

ruthlessly pushing back against the hot tide of sour

words fighting to splash out all over Devon. Only

the thought of consoling himself with some of

Catherine Marie Simpson’s delicious treats

allowed him to speak in a level tone.

“Ask Catherine Marie if she’ll make me

some cocoa. I’ll see you in a bit, Sarge. Bye.”

Rose didn’t wait for Devon’s response, and he

stood for a moment with the phone to his ear

before he finally hung it up.

~ 58 ~

Chapter Four

Before Andy could open his mouth to ask

Michael the question burning on the tip of his

tongue, a phone rang. Within a moment, Andy

recognized the twinkish tones of Adrien’s favorite

band. A surge of bitterness swept through him.

Couldn’t he have one moment where Adrien didn’t

overshadow everything?

“That must be your cell. I know there’s not

a single Bieber ringtone to be found on my phone.”

As the words left his mouth, Andy pushed

away from Michael, scooting to the edge of the

bed and then quickly making his way to the

bathroom. He’d be damned if he was going to sit

and listen to Michael coo over Adrien. Flicking the

light on and shutting the door with a snap of his

wrist, Andy glared balefully into the large oval

mirror over his pale blue pedestal sink. With his

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 59 ~

eyeliner smudged and his lips puffy, red and

surrounded with whisker burn, he looked exactly

like the cheap tart everyone except Michael had

always taken him for. Only that wasn’t really true

anymore, was it? Now Michael thought he was a

round heeled floozy too. Well, screw Michael.

Blinking back tears, Andy vowed that he wouldn’t

give the big idiot the chance to make any smart-

assed comments. If Michael said even one word

about what a nice fuck Andy was or something

equally lame about how they could do it again,

Andy would gut him.

Hell no. It would never do to let himself get

to the point of homicide because the one color that

would never suit Andy was the hideous shade of

orange they put prisoners in. With a shaking hand,

Andy turned the hot water on. Biting his lip, he

studiously ignored the moisture leaking out of his

eyes. Drawing in a deep breath he decided he’d

tidy up his face before throwing on his robe. Once

he calmed down a little, he was going to kick

Michael out like nothing more important than a

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 60 ~

light cardio workout had happened between the

two of them. Yeah. Okay. That would work.

Reaching into the linen closet, Andy pulled out a

soft baby washcloth. As he dampened it under the

rapidly warming water, he met his own gaze in the

mirror.

“I don’t need Michael Rose. It’s fine. It’s

fine. We can go back to being nothing but friends.

Sure. Okay. That will be the best thing for

everyone.”

Pinching his mouth tightly together, Andy

admitted that even to his own ears it sounded like a

lie. Well, he’d just have to pretend until he could

figure out how to make not needing Michael true.

Wiping the smudged black eyeliner from around

his eyes, he carefully patted his face dry. By the

time he finished and opened the bathroom door,

Michael was hanging up his phone. Stepping

forward to brush a barely there kiss against

Michael’s cheek, Andy rushed to speak before

Michael could. He so did not want to hear Michael

Rose brushing him off.

By Any Other Name

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~ 61 ~

“So I guess you need to go now? Give me a

sec to throw on some fresh clothes and I’ll be right

out to drive you back to the mall.”

As he spoke, Andy scooped up his car keys.

Michael must have set them down on the dresser

while he was in the bathroom. Tossing them to the

overgrown Dumkopf, Andy snatched up the first

pair of jeans he could lay his hands on. Retreating

to the bathroom with the seen-better-days-jeans

and an old tee he normally reserved for days when

he planned on being home alone all day Andy

closed the door with a painfully bright smile and a

sour taste in his mouth.

Two minutes later he pulled his garage door

closed behind himself, still sporting a smile that

would do Ken and Barbie both proud. For the

entire forty-five minute drive back to the mall

where they both worked, he chattered about the

party. Once Michael was safely deposited next to

Devon’s Jeep and disappearing in Andy’s rearview

mirror, the smile slipped. Before he pulled out of

the parking lot, Andy got his favorite unrequited

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 62 ~

love cd out of the storage case he kept in the car so

he wouldn’t forget to bring them to work on nights

he had to close. There was nothing more fun than

listening to suicidal depression, presented in song,

while trying to make sense of the night’s register

tallies. Nobody did feeling suicidal over an

impossible love like James Blunt.

****

Watching the rapidly disappearing taillights

of Andy’s nearly mint-condition Nova, Michael

wondered what the hell was going on in Andy’s

twisty little brain. Somewhere between the nearly

heart-attack inducing moments Michael spent

fucking the beautiful brat through the bed, and the

coolly dismissive farewell he’d just received from

those glacial eyes, Andy had clearly slipped a gear

or four. Michael growled and muttered his way

through unlocking the jeep and climbing inside.

“What the fuck, Andy. I’ll see you at the

party? Yeah, you sure as hell will see me at the

By Any Other Name

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~ 63 ~

party, babe. After the party, you can try to explain

that little Jekyll and Hyde routine you just pulled

on me.”

Only the fact that the Jeep belonged to

Devon kept Michael from slamming the shit out of

the door once he got inside. Instead, he clenched

his jaw and tried to reconstruct what had happened

right before Andy started acting like a complete

shit. Though he racked his brain, Michael couldn’t

think of a single thing. They’d both had incredible

orgasms if Andy’s howls and shaking were

anything to judge by. Then he’d pressed a kiss

against the back of Andy’s neck right before that

crappy Bieber song announced Devon calling.

Shaking his head, Michael decided he’d figure out

what Andy’s damage was at the party tonight. For

now, he needed to get back over to Adrien’s place

and—shit. He needed to find out what the hell the

Sergeant had done to piss Adrien off enough to get

kicked out.

As he pulled into the apartment complex

off Genesee, a white Lincoln Town car with a faux

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Cherie Noel

~ 64 ~

convertible rag-top in navy blue pulled out of a

spot directly in front of the common stairwell to

Adrien’s apartment. Michael sent an immediate

prayer of thanks up to the gods of good parking

karma. While some might argue that such was

unnecessary, Michael saw no harm in hedging his

bets against the day he truly needed to find a spot

five minutes before he even arrived.

Driving a few feet past the spot allowed

Michael to reverse into it. Sergeant Soto—shit—he

really needed to start remembering to call the man

Devon. They weren’t in the service anymore.

Devon had been at Mrs. Simpson’s tender mercies

for well over an hour now and Michael was

willing to bet his whole next paycheck that the

tough non-commissioned officer had cracked

under her stealth attack interrogation tactics. When

faced with a sweet, grandmotherly type who baked

what easily amounted to the world’s gooiest, most

chocolate chip per square millimeter cookies in

existence, there wasn’t really much guys like the

Sergeant and him could do but spill their guts as

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~ 65 ~

they gobbled the goodies. Michael wondered once

or twice if she slipped truth serum into her baked

goods. His mouth flooded with clear water just

from thinking about the last time he’d gotten his

hands on one of those little bites of vanilla and

chocolate love.

Shaking his head, Michael clambered out

of the Jeep. The second he opened the door to

Adrien’s stairwell the warm scent of Mrs.

Simpson’s

extra-rich-made-from-scratch

hot

chocolate filled his nose. As he drifted up the stairs

on the wafting fumes, Michael mused about

whether getting some of Catherine Marie’s

delicious treats almost made it worth having to

leave Andy’s place so abruptly.

“Nope. Devon Soto, you still owe me. And,

buddy of mine, you’d best believe I’ll be

collecting at the most inconvenient to you time I

can dream up.”

By the time he finished climbing the stairs

to the second floor, Michael had worked out most

of his anger. The remaining kernel of pissed-off-

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~ 66 ~

beyond-all-belief, lodged somewhere in the depths

of his bowels as a hotly burning pinpoint of dully

aching pain, could be ignored for the moment. It

helped when Devon answered Catherine Marie’s

door looking like a snotty faced, sweating mess.

Michael took one look at his normally unflappable

friend and turned into the kitchen, gesturing

distractedly to Catherine Marie. The sight of

Devon looking so wrecked left him unable to

recall where the to-go cups for cocoa were stored,

though he’d helped himself to them dozens of

times before. Keeping his voice low in hopes that

Catherine Marie wouldn’t notice his lapse,

Michael smiled at the pint-sized psychologist.

“Hey, Catherine Marie, where are the to-go

cups?”

Mrs.

Simpson

fixed

him

with

unimpressed and penetrating stare. Then, shaking

her head and rolling her bright blue eyes, she

shooed him aside to fix his cup.

A scratchy edge notable in his voice,

Devon called out to Michael from the dining room.

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~ 67 ~

“For Fu—Pete’s Sake, Rose, she can’t tell

you anything. Patient-Client confidentiality factors

here. You are aware of those, aren’t you?”

Popping back around the corner of the

kitchen door, Michael flew two emphatic birds at

Devon via the expedient method of flipping both

middle fingers up and shaking them. The tight

lines around Devon’s reddened eyes eased as he

chortled. A wide grin pulling at his mouth, Michael

retreated back into the kitchen with a heavy weight

seeming to ease off his chest. Anything was better

than being forced to witness the aftermath of

Devon having had his emotional guts laid out for

inspection by anyone. Devon had been his rock in

the Middle East, and even though Catherine Marie

was scarier all by herself than a five-ton truck

filled to the brim with newly minted First

Lieutenants and jaded First Sergeants, there was

no way Michael wanted to be witness to his

mentor’s loss of all military bearing. Hell no. The

shaking hands, red eyes and snotty face all told the

same disturbing story of a man who’d lost his edge.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 68 ~

An anorexic smile wobbled across Michael’s face

as he turned to face the stove.

As she passed over a handful of cookies

and a cup of her special cocoa, Catherine Marie

patted him on the hand. “He’ll be fine, dear. The

strongest ones have the hardest time bringing these

difficult matters to the light. Why don’t you go

pull the car around? He’ll need to get out of here

now, I should think.”

In a perfectly cued segue, normally only

able to happen in Hollywood blockbusters and

Harlequin made for television after school specials,

Devon spoke up from the other room.

“Rose. We need to go. I have to go find a

costume, and then I gotta get Dieterman set up at

my place. I—can I crash with you for a few days?

I thought I’d be staying with Adrien when I said

Dieterman could use my place.”

Brushing the last of the oatmeal raisin

cookie crumbs from his mouth, Michael set his

cocoa down on the spotless orange Formica of the

counter next to him. Already in motion, his quick

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~ 69 ~

steps had him half-way through the dining room

door when Catherine caught his wrist in a grip

nearly strong enough to hurt. Lifting one hand

quickly, he braced himself against the edge of the

doorframe with one arm trailing behind him in

Catherine Marie’s warm grasp. His eyes widening,

he turned to her. She was shaking her head back

and forth in brisk little motions as a tiny pinch of a

frown pulled her carefully plucked eyebrows

together. Her lips thinned, and but for the twinkle

in her eye, Michael would have worried she was

fed up with both Devon and himself. With a

roguish wink, she dispelled the images of being

eaten by Betsy, her big, brutish, man and wolf

eating dog. Marie Catherine winked again before

turning her head toward the dining room door.

“Michael, come get your cocoa, dear. I’ve

got it in a to-go cup, and there’s a little bag of

those cookies you like as well. Why don’t you go

wait in the car. I need a moment with Devon

before he leaves. You can talk to him about all of

this tomorrow, alright? Michael, don’t you badger

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~ 70 ~

him, or I’ll call Mrs. Jimenez and let her deal with

you.”

Michael straightened up, shrugging his

shoulders as he turned his head back to shoot

Devon a quick glance. Stepping back through the

strange doorway—it lacked a door completely—he

took a leaf from Catherine Marie’s book by being

careful to give his voice a little extra support and

keep his face toward the kitchen entry.

“Oh, hey, Mrs. Simpson there’s no need to

pull out the big guns. I promise I’ll behave. And

thanks for the cookies.”

Catherine Marie imperiously drew him

down, planting a loud, smackingly noisy kiss on

his cheek right before he hightailed it to her door

surrounded by a waft of oatmeal raisin and

chocolate scented air. Pulling the door open, he

tossed a quick verbal farewell in Devon’s general

even as he nodded his goodbye to Catherine Marie.

“See you downstairs in a few, man. Wash

your face or something, Sarge. You really do look

like hell.”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 71 ~

Michael pulled the front door shut behind

him the second he finished speaking. Eyeing

Adrien’s door for a moment, he decided not to

knock on the off chance that Devon might walk

out of Catherine Marie’s place while he was still

talking to Adrien. None of them needed that

messiness right now. With a faint snort, Michael

loped down the stairs, out through the building’s

heavy front door and over to Devon’s Jeep.

Deciding he’d better drive, he unlocked the vehicle

and eased behind the steering wheel as he turned

the key in the ignition.

Pulling out of the parking spot, Michael

drove around to the back of the building where

turning around was actually possible. Gazing out

the windshield as he drove back and pulled back

into the still empty spot in front of Adrien and

Catherine Marie’s building. Because he was facing

out toward the street this time, he caught sight of

an old Chevy Nova cruising along down Genesee

Street. The sight drew his mind immediately back

to Andy and the breezy way the beautiful man had

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~ 72 ~

dismissed him at the mall. After the torrid kisses

that Michael could still taste in his mouth and the

burning, vise-like grasp of Andy’s silk-skinned ass

surrounding his cock, the rapid drop in the

barometer of Andy’s attitude stung.

~ 73 ~

Chapter Five

By the time Andy pulled back up in front of

his house, the new mascara he’d paid top dollar for

had stood the test of a forty-five minute salt water

rinse without losing a bit of its luster. Eyeing

himself in the rearview mirror, Andy shuddered.

His eyes were bloodshot, his bottom lip puffy and

red, and his cheeks looked like bleached, hundred

year old parchment with uneven streaks of black

where his eyeliner had run. He’d definitely need to

take another shower—in fact he’d just give

himself a complete do-over.

Firming his chin, Andy reached into the

center console to get the remote for his garage

door. Who the hell did Michael Phillip Rose think

he was, anyway? He was a—a stalker, that’s what

he was. Lifting his chin a little higher, Andy

sniffed. Tonight, at the party he would put his foot

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~ 74 ~

down. Even if he was dressing as a glittery,

delicately winged fairy, he could still sock it to the

Dumkopf. Andreas Weiß was no man’s stalker

victim, dammit.

His hand shook the tiniest bit as he held the

remote up to depress the button. But, with no one

there to see, well it was kinda like eating chocolate

before you went to the gym. As long as your ass

didn’t get all gargantuan, you didn’t have to tell

anyone. Gunning the engine just a teeny bit was

okay too. After all, there wasn’t a single bit of

James Blunt music in the car right now. Mostly

because half-way home he’d had a very Sybil

moment where he clawed it out of the cd changer

and smashed the whole Back to Bedlam cd into too

many tiny shards to count. Biting his bottom lip

again, Andy ignored the little cut on his right hand

in favor of getting out of the car. He needed to get

to his computer and download the entire album

from Amazon. Because seriously if ever there was

a moment to wallow in the mental instability that

was James Blunt’s iconic ode to unrequited love,

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~ 75 ~

this was it. Also, it really was not James Blunt’s

fault that Michael was both hopelessly devoted to

perfect, adorable Adrien, and a great lay. While

Michael might be a little bi-curious, in the end he

would rather have someone with a vagina as his

life partner. Not that Andy was looking for a life

partner.

He slammed out of the Nova and stomped

his way over to the door from the garage into the

kitchen. Once he got inside, he slammed the heavy

wood door twice because the sound was so very

satisfying. Eyeing the glassware as he hustled past,

Andy entertained a full blown mini-movie in his

head, where he smashed every single piece of

stemware in the pretty hanging racks he’d installed

last month. His ears itched to hear the sound of

glass breaking over and over against the gorgeous

glazed tiles of his kitchen floor. A single finger’s

span from the first row where the martini glasses

hung in sleek splendor under their recessed track

lighting, he caught sight of the little Looney Tunes

jelly jar glass Michael had given him. Bugs Bunny

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~ 76 ~

smirked at him from the shelf where Andy kept his

most prized glasses. If he started with the martini

glasses, it wouldn’t be long before he ripped open

the glass fronted cupboards and smashed

everything they held as well. Michael gave him the

stupid glass the year Andy was placed with his

first foster family. Drawing in a ragged breath,

Andy snatched his hand back. He stood, locked in

place with muscles shaking under his skin for

several long moments. Then he reached forward as

slowly as the IRS returning money they’d been

overpaid. He opened the door with fingers that

trembled, scooping out the grotty little jar and

cradling it against his chest. Then he walked all the

intervening steps to his bedroom as though the fate

of the world depended on the precise, light

placement of each toe within his shoes.

Crawling into bed, jacket, pants, shoes and

all, Andy curled into the smallest ball he could.

One hand continued to cradle the jelly jar to his

chest while the other pulled the comforter up to

press a spot that smelled like Michael up against

By Any Other Name

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~ 77 ~

his face. Andy pretended he wasn’t rocking

himself slowly back and forth in the bed while a

muted keening noise slipped up his raw throat and

out from between the tightly clenched edges of his

expensively capped teeth. The lack of control

alone would be cripplingly embarrassing, and

though Andreas Weiß had lived through the most

humiliating experience of his life right in front of

Michael, he would never be that pathetic again. He

allowed himself an hour buried in Michael’s scent

and the warmth of his own soft bed, and then

Andreas Weiß got up from where he had lain.

Setting aside the jelly jar, right up against the

mirror in a well-defended spot at the back of his

dresser, Andy stripped the bed methodically. He

meticulously bundled up, carried through the

house and finally placed each sheet, pillowcase,

and lastly the duvet cover into the washer. Pouring

in lavender scented laundry detergent like a

benediction Andy paused to close his eyes.

Blinking damp eyelashes open, he closed the lid

and made his way back through the heavy silence

By Any Other Name

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~ 78 ~

of his house to start getting things ready for the

long awaited costume party.

****

Opening the door to the outside, Devon

paused to visibly sniff at the air. Michael sat right

outside the front door, just like he’d promised. A

stray ray of sun caught the hood of the Jeep,

gleaming brightly and reflecting the late afternoon

sunshine. Devon grinned, motioning for Michael

to stay put behind the wheel. Michael snorted

quietly to himself. As if he'd let Sergeant Soto get

in the driver’s side of any vehicle when he was

coming off being as rocky as he just was. Devon

slipped into the passenger’s side, his face washed

clean and a smile stretching his mouth wide.

Michael slanted a narrow eyed look at

Devon. The dork grinned back at him with all the

exuberance of a two month old chocolate lab. He

actually bounced a bit in his seat as he started

speaking.

By Any Other Name

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~ 79 ~

“I fucked up, but I’m gonna make it right.

I wanna keep him forever, and forever means

fixing things when you fuck up.”

Michael frowned, shaking his head to clear

his longish bangs away from his eyes. “Sarge,

what the fuck are you talking about?”

Devon gave an anemic little laugh, which

Michael refused to call a giggle. Former military

men, especially ones who were six foot five with

oodles of special training in take down tactics did

not giggle. With one eyebrow creeping higher by

the second, Michael eyed his former sergeant and

held his silence.

Devon did not disappoint him, caving to

the need to gossip about his relationship with

Adrien in less than sixty seconds. He wiggled

around in the passenger seat, his hands moving in

vague half circle shapes as though he were trying

to turn a steering wheel. Michael’s eyebrow hit the

far limit of its upward mobility just as the words

began to tumble from Devon’s mouth.

“I tried to make him stay in so he’d be safe,

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~ 80 ~

and he told me to fuck off. I got mad and shook

him—just trying to shake some sense into him,

you know? So, anyway—he’s a scrappy little thing.

Knocked my hands right off him and told me to

get the fuck out. Said if I wanted a chance with

him I was to come to the party tonight, in costume,

and be polite to him.”

Michael blinked at the lucky-to-still-be-

breathing-idiot sitting next to him. Holy Christ on

a pogo stick, the man was obviously watched over

by legions of overworked angels. He wouldn’t

even dare to pull that shit on his little brother

Sammie—or as the twit had taken to calling

himself (so as not to be confused with Adrien’s

younger brother who was also named Sam)—

David pronounce it Daaveed.

“And what are you planning to do?”

Devon tilted his head and narrowed his

eyes slightly as he handed Michael another to go

cup of sweet smelling cocoa and an old fashioned

tin of cookies embossed with smiling snowmen on

a navy blue background.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 81 ~

“Here, Mrs. Simpson said those are for you.

What am I gonna do? I am going to find a costume

for tonight, of course. He said come in costume,

quote-because it’s a fucking costume Christmas

party-end quote.”

Michael snorted. He took a sip of the cocoa,

winced and gasped at the blisteringly hot feel of

the cocoa flavored lava in his mouth before setting

the cup cautiously in the driver’s side cup holder.

Michael double checked that the lid was securely

on before putting the Jeep into gear in preparation

to pull out of the parking spot.

“Damn, that’s hot. Catherine Marie thinks

everyone has an asbestos tongue like her… shit,

my tongue is gonna fall off. Okay, yeah, the

Twinks are throwing a costume party this year for

Christmas. At their Halloween party Andy got a

bee in his bonnet about how they should have

more costume wearing fun during the rest of the

year, and the whole Glitter Crew jumped on the

bandwagon.”

Devon’s brow crinkled as he angled his

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~ 82 ~

torso more toward Michael’s side of the Jeep.

“Glitter Crew?”

Michael shrugged, a half smile tipping up

one side of his mouth as he eased the Jeep

smoothly into first gear. “Eh, you know we were

all part of the Gay-Straight Alliance group in our

high school, right?”

Devon nodded, gesturing with his hand for

Michael to continue. Michael rolled his eyes,

pausing as he came to the mouth of the driveway.

Paying close attention to the cars zipping up and

down Genesee Street, he whipped the Jeep out into

the first available opening. Once they were in the

flow of traffic and headed back towards his place,

he continued.

“So there were… let me see… eight of the

guys who were always getting picked on, as far

back as middle school. They were really why

Mama Jimenez and I started the school’s chapter

of the Gay-Straight Alliance. But what we didn’t

know was that even before we started that, they

were kinda watching out for each other.”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 83 ~

Devon turned a bit more, resting the back

of one shoulder against the passenger side door.

“Go on. What did they do?”

Michael chuckled, lifting one hand from

the steering wheel to push his bangs back from his

forehead. He’d bet good money that it was killing

the sergeant to keep from suggesting he get a real

haircut and stop sporting the Justin Bieber hair-do

he presently wore. Laughter threaded through his

words as he spoke.

“They had this whole code worked out for

what they called Glitter Alerts—”

A bright yellow sports car pulled out of

nowhere to cut them off. Michael broke off to

curse at the stupid shits. Maneuvering the Jeep

quickly around the offending vehicle, he continued

his story about Adrien and his glittery friends.

“Yeah, so anyway, they had a code for

freaking damn near every single thing you could

think of, all broken down in to colors and levels of

glitter. Most of the average idiots at our school

never figured out what the Twinks were up to.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 84 ~

They just went on thinking they were all especially

gay little gay-boys, and writing them off. But,

Adrien

and

his

Twinks

protected

marginalized high school kids than ever knew

about it, and all without ever breaking one of their

pretty little nails. Well, except for Adrien, of

course. He was always klutzy.”

Devon settled properly back into his seat,

adjusting the safety belt over his chest as he did so.

He turned his head, watching the passing scenery

or at least doing a good impression of doing so.

After a few moments had passed, he turned his

head back toward Michael.

“Glitter Alerts?”

Michael snorted at his incredulous tone.

“Yeah, Sarge. Color, level—I guess they’re kind of

like Threat-Con levels for the military, but way

more complex. They worked out a way to get

appropriate help for every bullying situation they’d

ever faced or heard about someone else getting

caught up in. Adrien and Sam would have

marathon like planning sessions where they

By Any Other Name

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~ 85 ~

strategized about how to help the kids who didn’t

know how to ask for help.”

Devon blinked, smiled, shook his head and

then frowned. “Damn. That’s—damn. Just damn.

No wonder he was so pissed.”

Michael nodded. “Yup. You fucked up big

time, Sarge. If I’d known you were gonna go all

Man-Of-The-House on him I’d have warned you. I

just figured you were smarter than that.”

Devon cut his eyes over to catch Rose

smirking at him. “Fuck you, cabron. Fuck. You.

One day someone’s gonna get your balls in a twist

and you’ll be just as stupid as the rest of us.”

This time, when Michael laughed, even to

his own ears the sound was a little thinner than

before. Devon gazed at him intently, the look

burning into the side of his face. Michael kept his

eyes firmly fixed on the road in front of him, and

his face perfectly neutral.

There was no reason to believe Sergeant

Devon Soto had twigged to the fact that Michael

had already met up with his very own ball twister.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 86 ~

Slating a sly glance to the side, Michael found

himself surprised all over again by the raw, love-

struck expression on Devon’s strong features.

Clinging to the faint up turn of the former hard-

assed soldier’s lips and the crinkled corners of his

nearly black eyes, a look of pure reverence plainly

spoke of the contents of Devon’s thoughts.

Without him uttering a single sound, Michael

knew who he was thinking of. Over the little while

the two had known one another, Michael had

grown used to seeing his former NCO’s face

assume that expression when his thoughts drifted

to anything even remotely related to Adrien.

~ 87 ~

Chapter Six

Back when they were ass deep in sand and

insurgents, Michael had assumed Devon’s reaction

to his stories, and that one picture of Adrien was

only the man’s longing for the simple innocence,

which shone from the clumsy little twink captured

in the photo. Michael shook his head. He loved

Adrien as dearly as he did his own baby brother.

Adrien’s heart somehow managed to hang on year

after year despite the difficulties he’d lived

through. Now, Michael realized Devon had been

falling for Adrien even back then. Christ, he could

have saved them all a lot of heart-ache if he’d just

taken Devon to meet Adrien at that crap college

he’d gone away to rather than going home and

introducing the guy to Andy.

After over two years you would think he’d

have gotten over the hot rush of anger that their

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 88 ~

hooking up had caused him, but that just wasn’t

true. Michael still had to keep a tight rein on

himself whenever he thought about the one time

Devon and Andy got together. Recovering from

the blow caused by his new best friend treating the

man Michael had been in love with since his

senior year in high school was—well, it was a

work in progress. Thinking about it still made him

want to kick Devon’s ass. Andy became distant

emotionally after Devon dumped him, and even

though Andy had slept with him twice, Michael

still didn’t feel confident their relationship was

headed in the direction he wanted. That the first

time started out as a method to comfort Andy

didn’t change how much it meant to Michael, but

he was pretty sure Andy didn’t see things the same

way. Also, the way things had ended earlier sucked.

Michael shook off the introspective turn of

his thoughts eventually, but not before Devon

noticed his silence. When Rose made the turn onto

the highway leading towards the mall, Devon

called him on his infatuation in a dry tone of voice.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 89 ~

“Going to check on Andy?”

Michael shifted in the driver’s seat, his

shoulders tensing. There was no way he was going

to tell Devon any of the things going through his

head right now. Andy was safely at home, but

Devon wouldn’t know that.

“Yeah, I am. There were some guys

hassling him last week, and now, with Adrien fired,

he’ll be short an elf. Which means he’s gonna have

to do double duty tonight, working as an elf while

he’s the manager on duty. If those rude fuckers

show up, I don’t want him to have to face them

down in those damn elf-a-go-go shorts he picked

out for all the elves.”

Devon cracked up. “I thought Adrien was

the only one who called them elf-a-go-go shorts?”

Michael forced a chuckle and lowered his

shoulders a fraction. “Nah, most of us have heard

him muttering that phrase enough that we all call

them that when he’s not around. We just like to let

him think he’s the only one who thinks the shorts

are… well, pretty much every young gay boy’s

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 90 ~

fantasy of what he’d find at the North Pole.”

Devon snorted. “You guys talked about this

when you were younger, didn’t you?”

Michael shot the clearly love-struck idiot

an incredulous look. “Of course we did. The elves’

costumes before Andy took over were truly

hideous, and we saw them every single year. We

couldn’t help but talk about them.”

Pulling up next to a random, beat-up old

Chevy Nova, which closely resembled Andy’s,

Michael put the Jeep into park and left the engine

running. “Well, I’m gonna work on his car for a bit

while he’s inside and can’t stop me. It’s been

running pretty rough, and he refuses to let me loan

him the money to replace the engine. So I sneak in

a little work on it here and there.”

Devon blinked at him before cracking a big

ass grin. “Heh. Now who’s the stalker?”

Wildly grateful for the opportunity to vent

a little of his long repressed anger at the man,

Michael glared at Devon. “Fucking. Dick.”

Although it felt good to call the man a dick,

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 91 ~

Michael really needed to deflect Devon’s attention

to something else unless he wanted to have it out

with the man about the whole Andy situation right

now. Thankfully Devon didn’t catch the depth of

Michael’s ire, instead just laughing as though at a

shared joke as he released his seatbelt and opened

the passenger side door.

“Hey, I admit I’m a little twitchy on the

subject right now, but if he says no, doesn’t that

still mean no, cabron?”

After a heartbeat where he wondered if

Devon had somehow gotten wind of Andy’s

incident, Michael got out, scooped up a handful of

snow from the roof of Andy’s car and flung it at

Devon in the best imitation of light heartedness he

could muster.

“Screw you, Sarge. Go get your costume.

Tell Dieterman I said hi. I’ll have to catch up with

him while he’s here.”

Devon slid into the driver’s side of the Jeep.

“Will do. Tell Andy I’ll be at his party, okay? I just

gotta go find the right costume and get Dieterman

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 92 ~

settled first.”

Michael didn’t really know how to respond

to that. He had a hinky feeling about Dieterman’s

sudden reappearance in their lives, especially

given the other man’s patently obvious crush on

the sergeant back before he got medically

discharged.

Consequently,

muttered

nondescript farewell while quickly popping the

hood of the Nova.

“Yeah Sergeant, but I notice that you’re

wearing different shoes than you showed up at

Adrien’s with. What, do you keep a whole freaking

wardrobe over there? It’s a little freaking early in

the game to be moving in with him isn’t it?”

Devon didn’t answer, and Michael spent

the next few minutes, until the Jeep pulled out of

sight, praying Devon would leave quickly enough

that he wouldn’t get caught screwing around with

some complete stranger’s vehicle.

Once the black Jeep’s taillights passed the

fourth row away from him, Michael dropped the

hood the vehicle he was pretending was Andy’s.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 93 ~

The bus line that ran out to the mall would get him

close enough to home to walk back to his place

and pick up his own car. He had to get his own

costume ready and then get back over to Andy’s to

help with the decorations like he’d promised.

However, this time he wouldn’t allow himself to

get distracted by Andy’s extreme hotness.

Something had pissed Andy off, and Michael

meant to find out what it was.

Fortunately, a bus came within ten minutes

of Michael’s arrival at the bus stop. Less than

forty-five minutes later, he was unlocking his front

door. Vowing to remember his gloves next time,

even if he was planning on being in a car, Michael

rubbed his chilly hands together as he headed

toward the kitchen for a hot drink. Instant cocoa

wasn’t as good as Mrs. Simpson’s home brewed

nectar of the gods, but it would get him warmed up

from his twenty minute jaunt through the cold.

Unable to shake the feeling of something being off

with the whole Dieterman scenario, Michael

pulled his phone from his pocket to call Devon. As

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~ 94 ~

the water warmed for his cocoa, he’d check in with

Devon about when the other man was planning to

meet up with Dieterman.

When the call connected, Michael nearly

dropped it. Instead of Devon’s deep tones

rumbling back at him, Adrien’s light tenor tickled

his ear.

“Hey, Michael, what are you up to? I

thought you were gonna go check on Andy and

make sure he’s okay… how’s that going?”

Confused as to why Adrien would be

answering Devon’s phone right now, Michael

paused before he answered. “Hey back, Adrien.

You okay, little elf?”

Adrien huffed a little before he replied.

“I’m not an elf anymore, Michael. You know that.

And you can’t reach Devon at this number right

now… he, um… he left it at my place.”

Adrien stumbled a little over the last words,

his voice catching as though his throat had

suddenly clogged up. Michael paused again before

releasing a deep sigh.

By Any Other Name

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~ 95 ~

“I know. I picked him up from Mrs.

Simpson’s place.”

A loud gulping noise came to Michael

through the phone.

“Well, Crap-doodly. That just blows,

Michael. Now she’ll probably trick him into

becoming her patient or something.”

Absolute silence echoed between them as

Michael searched for an acceptable reply to that

statement. Then a haughty sniffing sound occurred.

“Hold on a second, Michael. I need to go

where I’ll have a bit of privacy.”

Sounds of movement, the hard smack of

flesh against wood, and then a suppressed yelp

came to Michael’s straining ears.

“What was that noise? Are you okay?”

He could practically hear Adrien roll his

eyes. “Geez, Michael, chill. You know if I was

actually hurt I’d let someone know. Don’t be an

ass.”

Michael grunted back at him before

switching into a calmer tone and slightly more

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~ 96 ~

eloquent wording. “Right, I’m just a little nervous

about this whole possible stalker thing. I mean,

Adrien… if I didn’t know you I’d be tempted to

stalk you after that little display, you know?”

Adrien hissed at him. “Shut up, Michael.”

Low, rich laughter rolled out of Michael

and into the phone. “Sure thing, Adrien, I’m

shutting up about that topic entirely. Hey, where

are you at? I can swing by and pick up Devon’s

phone and bring it back to him.”

Michael paused to shrug as he poured his

cocoa into a to-go cup, snagged his keys and

headed back outside. This time he remembered to

grab his gloves and scarf, though. He grinned as he

thought up the perfect hook to get Adrien to agree

to his picking up the phone to return it to Devon.

“That way, if he wants to call to let you

know exactly when he’s gonna get there tonight,

he can.”

A warm, needy tone entered Adrien’s tone

at Michael’s words. “He said he was gonna come?”

Snorting, Michael shook his head as he

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~ 97 ~

answered. “Oh, I’d call that one a definite yes. He

practically threw me out of his car as soon as we

got to where I needed. He said something about

wanting to rush out and get a costume before he

had to meet Dieterman to let the guy into his place.

Tell me where you are, brat, and I’ll come get the

phone to bring to him.”

Adrien sounded positively giddy as he

answered. “Okay, okay… and stop calling me a

brat. I’m over at Benji’s folks place. Apparently

the ‘rents left his little sister on her own again to

go to some society function, so we’re hanging out

with her for a bit.”

Michael grunted again and this time the

sound dropped nearly an octave lower. Missy and

Benji’s folks really didn’t deserve such great kids.

“Well, aren’t they just nominees for best

parents of the year. Eh, I’ll be there in fifteen,

twenty minutes tops, alright?”

A smacking sound echoed over the line.

“Uh, yeah, we just started eating, so waiting for

you is no problem. There’s even a pineapple and

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~ 98 ~

ham pizza if you want to join us. You and Missy

are the only two people I know who actually eat

that crap willingly.”

As Michael slid behind the wheel of his car,

he laughed so hard his sides ached. “I cannot

believe you still get into such a twist about fruit

being on pizza. I gotta hang up—I’m leaving the

parking lot. Later.”

****

Several hours later Andy proudly opened

the door to his house as the first of his guests

arrived. Adrien’s phone began to ring, the tone of

Bonnie Tyler’s song all about holding out for a

hero bringing a bright red color flooding into his

cheeks. Andy arched an eyebrow at him. Hell, he’d

blush too if he got caught using that lame-assed

Needy Nancy song as a ringtone too. A quick

glance to the right showed Markus was also

quirking a perfectly groomed eyebrow at Adrien as

they were all tortured with the strains of the music

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 99 ~

drifting into the quiet of Andy’s foyer. Adrien

grimaced and slid his finger over the screen of his

android phone to answer. As he held the phone to

his ear, a puzzled expression drifted across his face.

“Hello?”

After a moment where he cocked his head

to one side and frowned, he raised startled eyes to

Andy’s face. Adrien’s normally sunkissed face

blanched.

“Oh, shit!”

Andy felt Markus, Benji, Sam, David,

Anthony, and “E” all crowd in close. Adrien raised

stricken eyes to them.

“Holy Crap-doodly, guys, it’s a level seven

alert.”

Seven pairs of equally worried eyes passed

looks of concern back and forth. “E” spoke first.

“What color, Adrien?”

Adrien gulped. “I—it sounds like a Black

Sparkle.”

Andy and Sam both sucked in a harsh

breath.

By Any Other Name

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~ 100 ~

Andy squeezed out one word. “Who?”

Adrien shivered all over. “I’m pretty sure

it’s Michael and Devon both. You all know your

assignments. We gotta move fast. This one sounds

bad.”

Benji and Markus raced back to Benji’s car

to check on the siblings.

Anthony and “E” jumped into Anthony’s

GMC Jimmy to check on the parents and then

round up the police.

Andy saw Adrien and Sam glance over at

what they thought of as his piece of shit Nova. He

knew they were probably wondering if it would

last long enough to get them to Devon’s place.

Andy shot them both dirty looks from under his

bright blond bangs.

“I’ll have you know that Michael has been

sneaking into the parking lot at the mall nearly

every day for two weeks rebuilding this engine.

It’s practically new at this point. And don’t you

dare tell him I knew.”

Sam chortled. Adrien just shook his head,

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~ 101 ~

gesturing at the vehicles doors.

“Okay, Mr. Supermodel with the smexy

man on a string… can you unlock the damn car

and get it running so we can go save these two big

bumblers?”

As Andy took in the terrified look on

Adrien’s face and the seriousness of his calling a

level seven Black Sparkle alert, he shot Adrien a

look and fumbled his keys out of his pocket.

Dropping them on the snow covered sidewalk

twice because his hands were shaking so badly,

Andy almost wept with relief when Adrien lost his

patience and snatched them up.

“Get your ass over to the passenger side,

Andy. Sam’s driving. He’s not gonna lose his shit

worrying like we will, and he always speeds, so

we’ll get there fast, possibly with a police escort.”

Andy blinked at Adrien as the other man’s

words crawled toward him through the frozen

sludge of his senses. The idea of Michael in danger

made absolute mush of his normally rapier wit.

Adrien huffed at him.

By Any Other Name

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~ 102 ~

“What? Get in the damn car. The ring-tone

was Devon and the stupid Moses code thing was

that crap Michael’s been trying to teach me since

freshman year in high school.”

Sam snickered. Adrien turned, smacking

the car keys into his brother’s hands and scowling

at him. Sam lifted a honey gold eyebrow, glancing

at the only other twink in their group with a claim

to the name Samuel. Andy distractedly recalled

how confusing it had been until Samuel David

Rose had settled on being called by his middle

name. Sam Jimenez grunted a damn good question

at his brother.

“What do you want David to do?”

Adrien glanced wildly around, clearly at a

complete loss. Andy placed a hand on his arm to

quiet him. Meanwhile, fighting back his own panic

to speak in his normal soft tones, he addressed

Michael’s baby brother.

“David, can you stay here and keep the rest

of the party-goers entertained and out of trouble?

We’ll call you as soon as we know anything, I

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~ 103 ~

promise.”

David nodded, squared his painfully thin

shoulders and made his way back into the house,

closing the door gently but firmly behind him. He

looked back through the little glass window in the

center of the door, his unruly mop of curls flopping

over his forehead. Andy and Adrien both sighed.

Adrien spoke first. “I can’t imagine—”

Andy cut him off. “I know. He’d just

wither up and die. Let’s go get his big brother for

him… and your man too. Muscle-bound idiots

always think they can handle everything without

any help.”

His last sentence tapered off into a

muttered growl, but Andy was pretty sure Adrien

was close enough to make it all out. Adrien nodded

jerkily at his younger brother. Sam met his gaze

for a second before his eyes dropped and his

shoulders sagged. Andy shook his head as he made

his way to the car. Those two really needed to get

their shit together. They had no fucking clue how

lucky they were, or how much Andy would’ve

By Any Other Name

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~ 104 ~

given when they were growing up to trade places

with either of them. For right now they all needed

to concentrate on getting Michael and Devon out

of whatever mess the two Dumkopfs were in right

now. He slipped into his seat and fastened his

seatbelt. He—oh god, they had to get there in

time—the things he’d said to Michael, treating him

like some cheap lay. Over the top and drama

queeny as it might sound, it really would kill him

if those were the last words between the two of

them.

~ 105 ~

Chapter Seven

When the door slammed shut behind

Adrien, Andy didn’t even take a moment to think

about what might or might not be safe. He simply

pounded on the door until Sam yanked hard on his

arm, dragging him over to the side of the little

porch. They hopped the rail, pushed through the

little shrubs and Sam boosted him up just in time

to see Adrien come careening around the side of

the couch. In classic Adrien style, the man seemed

to trip over the motes of dust in the air. Andy could

see the terror on his face and the trajectory of his

helpless little body toward the big blown glass

thing standing at the end of Devon’s couch. Devon

called it his modern art sea urchin. Andy knew

because he’d bought the damn thing for Devon

during that long ago weekend they’d spent

together. In less time than it took to draw in breath

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~ 106 ~

to scream, Adrien fell. One arm swept out before

him, knocking the sculpture to the floor. Andy’s

heart stood still in his chest as he watched one of

the longest, stoutest spires of glass break at the tip,

leaving behind a wickedly sharp edge.

Of course, there was no other place for

clumsy Adrien to fall. Twin screams rent the air.

Sam was tugging on him again, and small as he

was Andy had no recourse but to go where the

larger man was pulling him. They met Anthony

and “E” at the edge of the street, and as Sam

turned to bring the other two up to speed on the

situation, Andy wrenched his arm loose. Running

up the path to the door, he flung himself at the

front door. Beating at the unyielding surface, Andy

continued to scream.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to hurt him, not like

that…”

“E” wrapped strong arms around him,

picking him up and carrying him away from the

door. Andy quieted for a while, until the

paramedics arrived along with the police. He heard

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~ 107 ~

one say something about a deep puncture wound

just as another pair wheeled out a gurney with

Michael strapped to it, head shorn down to the

scalp on one side, eyes closed, and whole body

still as death. Then he started to scream again, and

didn’t stop until the second set of medics shot him

full of something that made the whole world seem

soft and pretty. Before his eyelids got too heavy to

hold open, Sam came over to check on him.

“Holy shit, Andy, you’re scaring the crap

outta me. Michael’s gonna be okay, and Devon too.

Adrien’s the one who has us worried right now, but

you know my bro. He’ll be up on his feet, ready

for me to immortalize yet another of his pratfalls

on “Stupid Shit Adrien Does” again in no time.

Right?”

Andy tried to fight through the inexorable

pull of the drugs to offer Sam some comfort, but

the only word he could form was a rampant denial

of the whole situation.

“No, no, no, no…”

****

By Any Other Name

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~ 108 ~

“What shit in my mouth? No, scratch that.

What died in my mouth, thereby releasing all its

bodily fluids to create a fetid pool of noxious

waste around its slowly decomposing body, and

why the fuck did whoever I was with last night let

me drink so much?”

Speaking as he fought to open his eyelids

against the heavy weight fighting, with equal

intensity, to shove them closed again, somehow

gave Michael the extra oomph he needed to crack

one eye open. The room he was in was at once,

completely foreign and all too familiar. He was in

a hospital room and damned if he knew how or

why. He lay still for a moment to run a quick

inventory of his person. There were no suspicious

bandages. All his limbs were present and

accounted for. Michael decided to sit up and get

someone to come give him some answers about

where he was, and what he was doing here. As a

result of his effort to push up on one elbow in

preparation for sitting up, a wicked shaft of white

By Any Other Name

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~ 109 ~

pain lanced through his head.

Groaning and attempting to cradle his head

in his hands brought another unpleasant revelation.

“Oh shit, I’m still in the military. Fuck, the

whole thing with Andy was just a dream. Damn it.”

A husky chuckle sounded off to his left.

“In fact, Michael, you’ve been out of the

military for quite a while now, and your new hair-

do has nothing to do with your career choice.”

Rolling gingerly to his side, Michael gaped

at the classically beautiful, dark haired woman

sitting calmly next to him knitting what appeared

to be a baby bootie. It might also have been a hat,

or the start of a very lumpy blanket. Michael

couldn’t rightly tell. The thick, honey rich tones of

her sultry contralto voice were as familiar to him

as the vividly blue eyes and gentle smile she

turned his way. He blinked, unable to reconcile her

appearance with his recollection of living in

Syracuse, New York.

“Mama? What in the world are you doing

north of the Mason-Dixon Line in the dead of

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Cherie Noel

~ 110 ~

winter?”

Donna Jean Rose gave him a long, level

look out of her clear blue eyes.

“David called and told me you’d been

taken to the hospital. Where else would I be?”

Michael blinked at her.

“Mama? Would you please fetch David for

me? I’d like to ask him a thing or two.”

Nodding in affirmation, his mother stuck

her tongue between her teeth as she glared fiercely

at the—thing—she was knitting.

“Of course I’ll go get him for you. Just let

me finish this here row… if I stop now I’ll forget

where I was and have to pull the whole thing to

pieces and start again.”

She looked up at that point, with her mouth

curving up in a smile.

“Then again, it might be best if I did just

start over. I’m not sure what I was trying to make

in the first place.”

Pulling the needles carefully from the light

blue yarn, she tossed the mess onto the bed next to

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~ 111 ~

Michael.

“Here, son, you just grab onto that loose bit

at the end there and pull until all the stitches come

out. It’ll give you something to do while I go find

your rascal of a brother.”

Then she was gone, and Michael was

staring at what was possibly the ugliest bit of

knitting he’d ever seen. The color was nice,

somewhere between summer sky and silver. The

last time he’d seen his mother, they’d been

screaming at one another about David. She’d been

trying to insist that David go stay with their

grandfather, and David had been refusing to even

speak the old man’s name. Michael had tried to

intervene. Without a doubt, that had been one of

the poorer decisions in his life. He and his mama

were exactly alike in the temper department.

Instead of explaining why David was refusing to

go, Michael had resorted to raising his voice until

his mama was so damn mad she kicked him out.

Oh, he’d known she only meant for the

night, but he was too damn proud to go back, and

By Any Other Name

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~ 112 ~

so he’d packed himself and David onto a

Greyhound bus headed as far away as his money

could reach. They ended up in Syracuse, and could

have ended up as two more runaway statistics but

for the timely intervention of Lynn Jimenez.

Looking back Michael could see how painfully

young his mother had been—she was only twelve

years older than him, and fifteen older than David.

It was no wonder she’d so quickly signed over

guardianship paperwork when Lynn had requested

it.

Fifteen minutes later he’d pulled the yarn

thing into a long strand of gorgeous silvery-blue

yarn. In fact, he’d started to roll it into a ball, all

the while wondering why it wasn’t already in a

ball at one end, because that seemed the right thing

to do with a lot of loose yarn. However, he had not

made much progress in figuring out why he was in

a hospital, or why the hell his brother had called

Donna Jean. Consequently, as soon as his brother

pushed open the door to his room, Michael lit into

him.

By Any Other Name

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~ 113 ~

“What the fuck, David?”

David’s thin shoulders hunched and his

head drooped.

“Devon woke up right away, but you didn’t,

and nobody knew for sure if you would. I thought

she ought to get to say goodbye if you weren’t

gonna wake up.”

Michael’s stomach did a slow roll as he

reassessed the situation. Gathering up the fraying

reins of his self-control, he tried again.

“I’m sorry I yelled, David. What—Jesus, I

don’t even know why I’m here, or even where here

is.”

David blinked their mother’s blue eyes at

him, and then pointed to a little white board on the

wall opposite Michael’s bed. Marked on it in neat

block letters were the name of the hospital where

he was as well as the name of his nurse and aide.

Michael gave a wry half grin.

“Sorry ‘bout that Doodle-bug—my head’s

not quite screwed on straight right now.”

David blanched bone white before sitting

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~ 114 ~

down abruptly in the chair so recently vacated by

their mother.

“Oh my god, Michael, you haven’t called

me Doodle-bug in over seven years… not since

before we took the long bus ride. I-I don’t know

where to start. Um. Adrien says you went to give

Devon his phone. You didn’t trust Dieterman, or

something, and you wanted to check. But, he got

the drop on you and koshed you over the head with

something. Then he decided he was gonna practice

on you before he tried to open up Devon’s head,

because though he’d practiced before, he hadn’t

used a power tool. He told Adrien he wanted to be

sure he got it right.”

David’s voice came out flat and thin as he

curled his thin shoulders even farther in.

“He-he shaved your head, and gave you the

drugs too, but you tricked him, you did, ‘cause

you’d already called us!”

His eyes shining with the unabashed hero-

worship Michael had never felt worthy of, David

continued.

By Any Other Name

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~ 115 ~

“So Adrien ran into the house and fell on a

glass sculpture thing and that guy felt bad, because

Adrien’s so little and he let him call an ambulance

and even helped him until they came. I gotta admit

that I don’t really like that part. I can’t just hate

him for what he did to you when he tried to help

Adrien and he let himself get arrested and put in a

nuthouse so Adrien wouldn’t die. I really wanted

to hate him when you wouldn’t wake up, but

Adrien and Devon say I’m not allowed to. I guess

now it’s okay, though. You woke up, so

everything’s okay now.”

Then David put his head down on the edge

of Michael’s bedrail and wept. Michael reached a

hand through the cold, hard plastic of the rail to

lay a hand on his brother’s unruly mop of curls.

“It’ll be okay, David. I’m gonna be okay.

Shhh, don’t cry. I’m gonna be okay.”

Michael needed to find a way to talk to

Lynn without David present. He didn’t trust Donna

Jean not to tell his brother, and there was no reason

for David to ever know the truth about who their

By Any Other Name

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~ 116 ~

father really was, or exactly why Michael had

taken him and run. Opening weary, stinging eyes,

he searched the emblems on the inner surface of

the bedrail until he found the one that would call a

nurse or aide in to assist him. He’d get someone to

get Lynn for him. He just hoped she got here

before his mother came back from wherever she’d

crawled off to.

~ 117 ~

Chapter Eight

When Andy came back to himself, he was

sitting on the low bed of a little room. The door

was propped open, and a plain, but kind faced

black man sat in the open door. He sat, crouched

over in what appeared to be a slightly

uncomfortable position, his legs thrust out in front

of him and his well-muscled backside resting in a

too little chair. Andy knew the backside was well-

muscled because the man also worked at a local

nursery where Andy had purchased three new trees

for his yard last spring. When he’d put the trees

into the back of the pickup truck Andy had rented

to take his trees home, Andy had rather enjoyed

the view. His name was Arthur, and he was reading

Andy’s

favorite

magazine

about

home

improvements.

Andy blinked at Arthur a few times,

By Any Other Name

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~ 118 ~

swallowed thickly and then burst into a coughing

fit. Arthur immediately dropped his magazine,

picked up a yellow plastic pitcher from the little

cart on the other side of him. He carefully poured

water into a flimsy, disposable plastic cup.

“Here you go, Andy. Sip it slowly so you

don’t choke.”

Of course, since he’d been told not to

choke, the first thing Andy did was accidently suck

some of the cold water right into his windpipe.

Once he’d stopped coughing, he shot Arthur a

disgruntled look.

“Seriously, at the risk of seeming redundant,

you should never tell someone you’re handing a

beverage or some sort of food to not to choke. It’s

like putting a hex on them or something. Didn’t

anyone ever teach you that?”

Arthur’s eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“I can’t say that the idea has ever been put

to me quite like that before. And before we go any

further in this little heart to heart, I’ve been told to

let you know that your boyfriend is okay. Lynn

By Any Other Name

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~ 119 ~

Jimenez herself came up to let us know that you

were to be told that immediately. Don’t tell anyone

I told you though… that’s a bit above my pay

grade here. I just know the nurse who’s on duty

tonight is new to this floor, and they stuck her up

here by herself with a full ward. Since you’re only

on “as needed” meds, you may not even see her

tonight unless your one-to-one—and yes, that

would be me—calls for her… and Mrs. Jimenez

was quite adamant that you know right away. She

also said to let you know she’d get the ball rolling

to spring you first thing tomorrow.”

Andy smiled. Mrs. Jimenez was the nicest

person in the world to have on your side.

“Thank you. Did she say anything about

Adrien?”

Arthur shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry. I know her son had to go to

surgery, she told me that herself, but I don’t know

anything else.”

A golden balloon of happiness swelled into

being in Andy’s chest as Arthur shared the good

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 120 ~

news about Michael. However, Andy’s meltdown

earlier had far more to do with feeling guilty about

his unrelenting jealousy in regards to Adrien.

Consequently, his feeling of joy deflated like the

sad, week-old thirtieth birthday party balloon of a

pretty and vain gay man as soon as Andy learned

that Adrien still might not be out of the woods.

Arthur pressed his large, roughly callused

hand against the skin of Andy’s hand.

“I’m due for my break in a bit, Andy. I

figure if I should happen to run into Mrs. Jimenez

on my way down to the cafeteria, and she should

happen to tell me how Adrien is doing then I just

might let that information slip while I’m talking to

myself after you’re asleep.”

A wide white slash of a smile flashed

across Arthur’s dark face, and Andy wondered

what he’d done right in some previous life to have

earned enough good karma to have this particular

man show up as his aide tonight. Whatever it was,

he’d be trying hard to duplicate it in this life,

because he could surely use more good things like

By Any Other Name

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~ 121 ~

this in his life.

“Thank you, Arthur. I’m sorry I never

stopped to talk to you before when I was at the

nursery.”

Watching Arthur laugh was like watching a

sunrise; as he tipped his head back the sleek

muscles of his throat and shoulders bunched and

flexed beneath the mahogany sheen of his silky

seeming skin.

“Why would a pretty young thing like you

think to stop and chat with an old geezer like me?”

Andy shook his head hard. His hair

whipped over his eyes in a froth of blond negation.

“I never thought of you as old. I just-I’m

shy. I never expect people to like me, and I don’t

like it when I try to make friends and they don’t

want me.”

Arthur’s eyes crinkled at the edges again,

but this time his mouth curved down in a pinched

looking arc at the same time. As the expression

swept across his savagely noble face, Andy felt

that golden balloon in his chest lose the last bit of

By Any Other Name

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~ 122 ~

air holding it aloft.

“Is it okay for me to go to sleep now? I’m

awfully tired.”

Arthur nodded gravely as the cinnamon

brown shade of his eyes darkened briefly. He

picked up his magazine again.

“Sure thing, Andy. Don’t worry, about the

age thing… I was just teasing you. I’m thirty-two,

and sometimes that feels old to me. Yeah, you get

some sleep. I’ll be here all night except for my

break, so you don’t have to worry about some

stranger watching you sleep, okay? Mrs. Jimenez

didn’t want anyone bothering you, so she made

them put you on a one-to-one. I’ll make sure to

talk to you before I leave in the morning if you’re

asleep when I come back from break.”

****

Eventually, David cried himself to sleep.

He snuffled and sighed in his sleep the same way

he did as a kid, and Michael’s heart stuttered for a

second. God, who’d have thought he would do

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~ 123 ~

such a good job getting the kid mostly raised?

David mumbled, letting Michael know he was

truly asleep, because he only ever did that when he

was down for the count.

An aide popped her head in the door to see

what Michael needed, and promised to try to

locate Lynn for him. She came back in twenty

minutes to let him know the nurse had placed a

call to Lynn and they were waiting for a reply.

Lynn herself showed up twenty minutes after that,

her face drawn with exhaustion. For just a moment

worry lines were clearly etched deep around the

corners of her mouth and eyes, giving her a

pinched look she rarely wore. Then she smiled at

him, dispelling the strained look.

“You called for me, mijo?”

Michael cut straight to the chase.

“I don’t understand why she’s here. I want

you to keep her away from David. He doesn’t need

to know about all that crap, Lynn. I got him out

before anything happened to him.”

Lynn’s lips tightened, the corners of her

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~ 124 ~

mouth turned down, and her eyes lost their sparkle.

“You know I don’t agree with you about

this, Michael. He’s old enough now. You should

tell him. As to why she’s here—the woman is your

mother. And she was just as much a victim as you

were. I kept in contact with her. She’s been in

therapy for years, you know. She’s even dating

now—a nice man who treats her decently, unlike

your father. Mijo, would it kill you to give her the

chance she never had before?”

Michael grunted, his face pulling into such

an extreme grimace he felt like a caricature of

himself or a gargoyle. Lynn walked softly across

the floor, stopping at his bedside to lay her small

brown hand on his cheek.

“It won’t kill you, you know. I give you

this choice. You can tell David, or I will. She’s

come a long way, but I don’t think she’s ready to

keep that kind of secret. Even if she were willing

to try, I wouldn’t ask it of her. That’s a killing

secret, Michael. You were right to keep him safe,

mijo. But the hardest part of being a parent is

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~ 125 ~

learning when to let your children grow up… and

he was always your little boy, wasn’t he? That man

may have donated the DNA to give David a body,

but you were always his little papa. Don’t think

that Carlos and I didn’t know this. It’s time, mijo,

time to be just his big brother, and past time to let

him know who his father is.”

Regardless of the truth in her words,

Michael couldn’t bring himself to agree. Turning

his eyes away, he clenched his jaw until the howl

of rage he wanted to let loose curled back up in the

dark corner of his mind it normally lived in.

“I can’t, Lynn. I-I just can’t.”

She squeezed his hand hard, leaning down

to buss a kiss across his cheek. The warm scent of

gardenias and Lynn wrapped around him. His heart

still felt as though it had been scraped across miles

and miles of gravel-strewn road, but the heavy

weight forcing him to take shallow breaths to keep

from sobbing seemed to have lifted. He squeezed

back, careful of his bigger size and greater strength.

“Tomorrow, Lynn. Let him sleep tonight.”

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~ 126 ~

She nodded brusquely, her curling hair

sliding into her eyes where it had come loose from

her hair ties.

“Alright, mijo, but make no mistake about

this. I will tell him tomorrow. I’ll send Donna to a

hotel tonight, so she can get some rest. But, she’s

not going away. She moved here two months ago,

mijo. She wanted to be close to you. She lives in

Auburn.”

Michael felt the words like a solid fist to

the solar plexus. For such a small person, Lynn

Jimenez packed one hell of a punch. Michael

grinned crookedly at her.

“Geez, Mrs. J, don’t be so delicate about it

next time. Just rip that Band-Aid right off as quick

as you can.”

Lynn laughed softly, touching David’s curls

with a feather soft touch before planting another

kiss on Michael’s cheek.

“I only do it when you need it, mijo, only

when you need it.”

~ 127 ~

Chapter Nine

Arthur was as good at keeping his word as

he was at picking out the perfect tree or shrub or

plant at the nursery. He woke Andy up just before

he had to leave in the morning, and told him that

Adrien had pulled though his surgery with flying

colors. When Arthur talked to Lynn, he told her

that after she left someone had moved Andy up to

the psych floor. He told Andy that the fire, which

lit up in the depths of her eyes as he relayed that

bit of knowledge was truly frightening. Then he

pulled his phone out of his pocket, and set it down

next to Andy.

“I’m going to head out to change of shift

now… I have a few minutes still to get there, so if

I should happen to leave my phone here, and then

hurry back in a moment or two, I wouldn’t know if

you just happened to put your number in there.

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~ 128 ~

And of course, once you’re discharged, if I run

into you somewhere else, I wouldn’t be breeching

any hospital policies.”

Arthur winked broadly at him, and then

turned to walk slowly out of the room. Andy

scooped up the phone, quickly pressed his digits in

and hit send before calling out to Arthur.

“Oh, Mr. Aide, I think you left your phone.

I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

When Arthur turned around, Andy winked

back at him, one hand extended with the phone in

it. Arthur walked briskly back into the room,

accepting his phone with a serious expression.

“Thanks, Andy. I’d hate to lose this job. It

means the world to me.”

Andy nodded. “I see that it does. Goodbye

Arthur. I hope to only run into you at the nursery

from here on out.”

Arthur shook his head. “I hope the next

time I see you is somewhere other than here, but

I’d be thrilled to see you more than at the nursery,

Andy. You’re good people.”

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~ 129 ~

Then he was gone out the door, and Andy

was left waiting for Mrs. Jimenez to grease the

wheels of the hospital’s bureaucracy. Less than an

hour later, a frazzled looking woman with a pen

sticking out of the bun at the back of her head

showed up. After introducing herself as his

ombudsman, she proceeded to ask him a slew of

questions about how he’d been treated in the

hospital and ask if he had any questions.

“Well, for fuck’s sake, of course I have

questions. Why did they shove me in the psych

ward? Where is Michael, Michael Phillip Rose,

that is? Where is Mrs. Jimenez, for that matter, and

most pressing of all, what the hell is that

gelatinous mass leering menacingly at me from my

breakfast tray?”

Andy ended his diatribe by pointing a

quivering finger at the scary crap he’d set across

the room on the floor and drawing his feet entirely

up on the bed. Cheryl Rixsom, his ombudsman,

was laughing out loud by the time Andy finished

his list of questions. He eyed her warily before

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~ 130 ~

reaching up to push his bangs out of his face…

only to realize that the damn haircut he should

never have gotten still hadn’t grown out, so he

didn’t need to push his hair back. Of course the

businessman’s cut hadn’t grown out; he had only

had his hair cut yesterday morning. Just because a

lifetime’s worth of events had been rolled up in a

single twenty-four hour time span did not mean the

actual passage of time had altered. Damn it.

Shaking his head to clear it of the whole too-short-

hair issue Andy addressed the most important issue

at hand.

“When can I get out of here?”

When Cheryl smiled at him, the white tips

of her teeth seemed to lengthen hungrily before his

eyes. Andy’s throat dried out in a flash while the

fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end.

Holy crap, Batman, if he were that little chipmunk

from “Enchanted” he’d be pooping out a pellet or

two in response to the

Carcharodon carcharias, aka

Great White Shark gleam in her eyes and on her oh

so white teeth

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~ 131 ~

“Well, seeing as you should never have

been on this floor at all, I imagine I can get you

moved to where you should have been rather

quickly. Let me go drop a few money-maker

phrases like inappropriate care and malpractice up

at the nurse’s station and I’ll see what we can do,

okay?”

She whirled off in a fuzzy halo of

strawberry blond hair and swirling batik skirts,

leaving a lingering scent of patchouli behind. Andy

giggled softly in the wake of her departure as the

meaning behind the words she’d just spoken to

him became clear. Cheryl had no intention of

snapping those razor sharp chompers on his skinny

twink heiney. Nope.

As he chewed on his lip for a moment,

Andy stared at the open door of his room. There

was a stranger sitting just outside his door looking

distinctly uncomfortable in the wake of Cheryl’s

bandying about the words inappropriate care and

malpractice. The slim young man looked up, and

catching Andy’s eye, shrugged. When he spoke,

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~ 132 ~

his voice was a surprisingly deep, irritatingly

smooth bass.

“Who even wears patchouli anymore?”

He accompanied his question with a

bobble-head like shake-nod-shake of his head

before reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes.

Andy leveled his best Darth Vader type death stare

at the guy simply because he had longer hair and

lacked any resemblance of fondness for all things

Cheryl, aka, the ombudsman. The twentyish,

auburn haired man seemed heedless of Andy’s

fulminating glare. With a deliberate huffing noise,

Andy pointedly turned his back. He figured the

smell of the guy’s Axe cologne would ramp up

from slightly overwhelming to throat-choking if he

came any closer, so it was safe to assume he didn’t

need to keep an eye on him.

****

This was the third time Michael had woken

in a hospital with David by his side. Thank god

he’d managed to keep David in the visitor’s chair

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~ 133 ~

every time. His little brother sprawled on his back

in the funky plastic covered lounger-convertible

bed with his mouth hanging open and a thin trail of

drool falling onto his shirt. This was the stuff

blackmail was made of. Michael snagged his cell

from where Lynn had placed it earlier on his

overbed table and quickly snapped several shots.

They would make prime April Fool’s Day cards in

a month or so. David snorted, snuffled, and swiped

a hand across his face as he rolled onto his side.

Blinking and sleep mussed, he looked almost as

young as he had the day Michael dragged him onto

a Greyhound bus heading north. An easy smile

stretched Michael’s mouth wide before he cleared

his throat.

“Hey, bro. You wanna take my card and go

get yourself some real food? You slept right

through breakfast.”

David blinked some more before scrubbing

the heels of both hands across his eyes.

“Urk. Yes. I need coffee. I think something

died in my mouth.”

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~ 134 ~

After a beat of silence, a deep rolling belly

laugh rushed out of Michael’s mouth to fill the

sterile, white space of the room. David’s eyes

crinkled at the corners for a moment before his

whole face crumpled.

“I-I thought I lost you, Michael. I—”

Michael slashed his hand through the air.

“Never gonna happen, Davy Gravy. I’ll be

around irritating your ass when we’re both

creeping around on cool-ass canes and need

Depends for when we can’t schlep our old behinds

to the toilet fast enough.”

Choking out a watery laugh, David nodded.

A shaky little smile crept around the corners of his

mouth while he rifled through Michael’s wallet for

the cash card. Extracting the slim rectangle of blue

plastic, he lifted his chin to meet Michael’s gaze.

“I’m holding you to that.”

With a circular motion of his wrist, Michael

gestured him closer until he could cup David’s

cheek in his hand.

“You do that. Oh, and bring me back some

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~ 135 ~

decent coffee. The stuff they served with breakfast

tasted like tepid brown canal water.”

David wrinkled his nose.

“Ewww.”

Michael patted his cheek.

“Yeah. Definitely ewww.”

Straightening up, David flashed an impish

smile at his brother. Doing his best Vanna White

impersonation he presented the card. The little

turkey even waggled his eyebrows.

“Have no fear, bro. I will hunt down the

wild java bean and bring you back a worthy cup of

the good stuff.”

With that complete dorkfest displaying the

many hours he’d spent watching Wheel of Fortune,

David skipped out the door for all the world as if

he were eleven rather than nineteen. Lying back

against the raised head of his bed, Michael gave

himself over to laughter once again. He was still

chuckling five minutes later when the door of his

room whooshed open to reveal a very wan looking

Andy sitting in a wheelchair being pushed by a tall

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~ 136 ~

blond Valkyrie.

Lips parted, hands clenched around the

cool plastic of the bedrails, Michael drank in the

presence of the pale, slender blond in the

wheelchair. How the man managed to appear

mouthwateringly sexy in a grey and maroon

hospital pajama set baffled Michael. Even with

bluish black smudged half-circles of exhaustion

marring the skin under his eyes while he reached

up to fuss with his spiky bangs, the sight of him

pushed all the air out of Michael’s lungs in a

hissing rush. The winter ice blue of those eyes cut

right into the crevices and dead end canyons of

Michael’s brain. His mouth moved; jaw, lips, teeth

and tongue combining into the shape he loved best

of everything and best of all. As the sound rolled

out into the room rich and mellow as a fine old

whiskey, Michael knew he’d said too much already.

“Andy.”

~ 137 ~

Chapter Ten

The husky tone of Michael’s aged whiskey

voice rolled over Andy, lulling him for the barest

second before the full impact of what that damned

maniac had done hit him like a clenched fist to the

balls. Shit. Andy’s fingers twitched on the cracked

plastic of the navy blue arm rests of the chair

Cheryl had insisted he “sit his ass in” before she

would transport him off the floor which housed the

psych ward. He must have made a sound—it

couldn’t have been much, but undeniably probably

sounded as though someone were removing his

tonsils. Without anesthetic. Though his anus.

Cheryl’s hand reached forward from behind

him, gripping his shoulder lightly before

smoothing down the upper part of his arm. The

warm scent of her patchouli wrapped around him,

reminiscent of Mrs. Tophel, his third foster mother.

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~ 138 ~

Letting his eyes slide shut, Andy pretended, just

for a moment, that he was sitting in the corner of

her breakfast nook. He’d always felt so safe there

with the broad expanse of the scarred wooden

table between him and the world.

Michael cleared his throat.

“Andy?”

This time the word was empty of all those

unfathomable depths and strangely stalking fish,

which seemed to be made up of alternating parts

shadow, bone, and deep-sea phosphorescence.

Damn Michael and his obsession with Jacques

Cousteau documentaries, and while he was at it

Andy figured he’d better damn his own brain for

equating those things with the way the hulking,

tousled, fucking dishwater blond could pack

enough meaning into just Andy’s name to fill the

whole of the Atlantic. Understanding that Michael

of all people would find it an acceptable reason to

put off answering, Andy cleared his throat.

“I-I got moved down here.”

Michael’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and

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~ 139 ~

wham, just like that Andy had a pretty good idea

what made Lucrezia Borgia tick, back in the day.

Despite his jaw clenching, tooth grinding irritation,

his cock still thickened damningly. The rate of his

boning up was disturbingly commensurate with his

level of Oh my god, someone tell me it’s okay to

choke the shit out of the big lunk-head.

Descending from above and behind him, a warm

stream of air curled around the side of his neck.

Cheryl must have bent down closer to him.

Andy’s supposition was borne out by the

scent of patchouli he detected. However, under the

thick Haight-Asbury scent a faint hint of the pine,

warm salty man and maple syrup smell Michael

always gave off crept into Andy’s awareness. No

matter the time, place or circumstance, that unique

blend of scents got Andy hard and wanting in the

time it took one heartbeat to beat its way through a

single four part harmony of lub-dub, lub-dub.

Michael’s head was shaved right down to

the skin on one side of his head. Until he lifted one

hand up to cup over the naked swath of skin, Andy

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~ 140 ~

thought the low keening sound was someone other

than himself. The hunched in shoulders, the way

his eyes dropped for a moment before flashing

back to Andy’s with a cowrie shell blend of colors

and the slight, pointed weight of a rapier’s tip, all

those things told a story.

Oh.

Ooooh.

Michael treated the maze game on the back

of a cereal box with the single-minded intensity an

Olympic swim team competitor gave to the final

heat determining which medal she or he would

bring home. To have someone get the jump on him

and then be rescued by Adrien of all people. Holy

Crap Doodle. Proof of the existence of miracles

lay in the fact that he hadn’t gone on a tri-state

killing spree the moment he found out what had—

oh, but of course. He must not know.

Michael sat up straighter as he snorted at

Andy.

“Everything you think is right there.

Promise me you won’t ever gamble. Please.”

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~ 141 ~

Andy narrowed his eyes at the giant dork.

And yes, he did know that the word originally

referred solely to a certain part of male whale’s

anatomy. Hey, if the penis hat fit, one ought to

embrace wearing it, right? So Michael had nothing

to complain about.

“You. Are. A. Giant. Whale. Dick. Michael

Rose, aka dork of epic proportions.”

Michael’s mouth fell open faster than

Andy’s legs ever had, and that was saying

something. A convulsive movement rippled up his

torso. Andy winced, throwing his hands up to

cover his eyes as he braced for the hideous sounds

sure to follow.

“You face—”

A noise like a drowning donkey gasping for

air burst from Michael. Cautiously lowering the

tips of the fingers on one hand, Andy attempted to

suss out the situation. His eyes roved a

scientifically accurate most likely path for the

vomitus… nope. Nein. Tracing along the line

where Michael had the blanket pulled up to his

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~ 142 ~

waist, Andy started cataloguing his findings. Belly,

firm, flexing under that hideous gown, chest, m-m-

mouthwatering, throat, Adam’s apple—and wasn’t

that stupid? It should be Michael’s apple or Andy’s

apple, chin, quivering suspiciously—

“You shit! You’re laughing at me.”

Michael snorted into his hand, choked back

a guffaw, and then gave up trying to hide his mirth

entirely. Lying down on the bed as he clutched his

stomach, Michael let loose a spate of laughter,

which left him howling and writhing on the bed.

Andy took consolation from being laughed at in

the way Michael’s gown—and really it could make

Andy believe in God that Michael had gotten an

assless gown and he managed to get a nice set of

ass covering pajamas—rode up and the blanket

slid down to display a tiny sliver of his succulent

keister.

Come to think of it, the nurse who garbed

Michael knew exactly what he or she was doing.

The firm curve at the top of one ass cheek played

peek-a-boo with the top of the blanket. Cheryl

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~ 143 ~

leaned down far enough to whisper in his ear.

“Someone needs to short sheet this man’s

bed every night.”

Andy twisted his head to one side, looking

up at her through his lashes.

“Sister, truer words have never been

spoken. Or maybe steal all his clothes…”

They both tilted their heads to the right as

Michael’s thrashing around in the bed rolled him

onto his back and threatened to reveal the entire,

luscious package at the apex of his thighs for one

golden, hope-filled moment. Another gentle waft

of air puffed against Andy’s cheek as Cheryl

sighed. As the honking noises masquerading as

laughter started to die down, Andy reached up to

pat Cheryl’s cheek without ever looking at her.

Beneath his fingers her cheek moved, bunching up

into the full roundness of a smile. For the first time

since he’d been at home in his bed yesterday with

Michael poised above him, eyes so full of warmth

and wanting, that even now Andy lost his breath,

he felt his stomach settle and all the muscles in his

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~ 144 ~

neck relax.

****

Reaching a hand up toward his face,

Michael swiped at the corners of his eyes. Holy

fuck, he loved a good laugh. Hopefully he hadn’t

pissed Andy off too much, especially considering

the crap he was about to have to drop on that

beautiful blond head. A fission of cold slid up his

spine, sobering Michael instantly. He reached over,

depressing the button to raise the head of his bed

more. Clearing his throat, he glanced down for an

instant before drawing in a deep breath and raising

his gaze back up to meet Andy’s eyes.

“Andy… uh, my mom’s here.”

The sleek black arches of Andy’s brows

drew together above the bridge of his nose.

Glancing from one of them to the other, the tall

blond woman behind Andy’s chair straightened up.

She opened her mouth as though to speak. Flicking

the direction of his gazed from Andy’s face to hers

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~ 145 ~

for a moment, Michael shook his head at her. Andy

didn’t say anything.

“I-I’ll explain more about that later, but for

now please just treat her like an unavoidable patch

of shit you have to wade through to get somewhere

you really, really want to go. You know, like a

twenty-five percent off sale at that clothing store

you like so much. I mean—hell, be polite I guess,

but don’t act like she’s my mom. She’s just the egg

donor as far as I’m concerned.”

Something fluttered at the edge of

Michael’s focus, behind Andy and Cheryl. As he

gazed into the cool blue depths of Andy’s eyes, the

movement registered. Michael’s brain interpreted

the input as the room’s door being pushed open

and glanced up in time to catch a close-mouthed,

big eyed look pass over the face of the very

woman he’d just spoken so harshly about.

Watching the sheen of moisture spread across the

surface of her multicolored eyes—just like his they

were just like his—Michael felt a burning hot

spasm pass through his center. Her lips pressed

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~ 146 ~

more tightly together for a moment, and then her

throat moved as though she were swallowing

down his jagged words without a drop of water to

ease the way.

A gasp drew his attention from her pale

face. Glancing back toward Andy, Michael caught

an equally shocked look on his face. Letting loose

a heavy sigh, he dropped his head back against his

thin hospital pillow. Closing his eyes didn’t help

much; he knew the problem was still standing,

rigid and unyielding as a statue made of stone, and

bigger than a fucking African elephant, smack dab

in the center of his room. Grimacing at the sour

taste of crow-pie currently filling his mouth,

Michael opened his eyes back up.

“Crap. Sorry, Ma. Didn’t think you’d be

back so soon, and shouldn’t have been airing the

laundry like that anyway. Apologies.”

Oh, he knew the tilt of his tone leaned right

across the line into sarcasm, but there was nothing

he could do about it right then. Michael had barely

been able to force himself to grit the grudging

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~ 147 ~

apology out. He wasn’t going to feel bad—not

really. Not after all she’d done, and allowed herself

to be blind to. Tipping his head to one side,

Michael raised his eyebrows as he held her gaze.

“Was there something you wanted? I’ve got

company.”

Andy’s voice rang out with a staccato,

censuring beat.

“If you wouldn’t mind introducing us?”

Allowing his eyes to fall closed again,

Michael reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of

his nose. Crap. Shit. Fucking. Fresh. Hell. He so

did not need Andy trying to play therapist with

that—woman. After a moment, Andy cleared his

throat. Oh, hell, Michael knew that sound. That

was Andy’s hop to it before you really piss me off

throat clearing. The beautiful bastard ought to have

it fucking patented.

“Yeah. Sure. Andy, that’s Donna Jean.

My—mother.”

Andy made a disapproving sort of clucking

noise under his breath. Michael narrowed his eyes

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~ 148 ~

at him. In response, Andy lowered his gaze for a

split second, and then looked up though his lashes

at Michael. The glance was bone meltingly hot,

scorching the air it passed through. His skin

tightening across his cheekbones as though pushed

back by a solid wave of burning blue, Michael

sucked in an arid lungful of air. Unable to bear the

disappointed weight of that fathoms deep blue

gaze, Michael turned his gaze back to his—back to

Donna Jean. Her face had paled in the few

moments she’d been back in the room; the only

color left aside from the fire engine red of her lips

were twin spots of hectic red at the highest points

of her cheeks. Andy made a low, growling noise,

and the woman behind him coughed.

“Christ, Andy, what?”

Andy lifted one thin black brow at Michael.

“Michael, even if no one else ever did—

begging yours pardon, ma’am—I know for a fact

Lynn Jimenez would kick your big, Dumkopf ass

six ways to Sunday for talking that way to the

woman who gave birth to you. I don’t know the

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~ 149 ~

whole story. You don’t have to tell me. But if

you’re going to be a spiteful child, tell me now so I

can have Cheryl here find me another room.”

The cool, clipped tones in which he spoke

said everything. Michael could play nice or play

by himself. He’d worked too hard to get Andy to

the point where he’d even talk like that to screw it

up now. Bunching and releasing his fist once,

twice, and then a third time eased a little of the

tension Michael could feel creeping up along the

edges of his jaw and at the corners of his eyes. A

smile creeping across his face, Michael shook his

head.

“Bossy little bo—boy.”

The corner of Andy’s mouth quirked up.

“Changed your mind about word choices?”

Michael dropped his head forward. Andy

had him by the short and curlies. A wicked,

wonderful, devilishly fun idea flashed across his

mind, and Michael lifted his head back up, tilting

his chin at a jaunty angle as he began to speak.

“Yes. I surely did, on both counts, babe.

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~ 150 ~

Andy, this is my mother, Donna Jean Rose. Mama,

this beautiful bit of trouble is your future son in

law.”

Andy’s mouth rounded into a perfect ‘o’ as

his eyes opened so wide he resembled a gorgeous

three dimensional anime character. A zinging sense

of perfection sparked every nerve in Michael’s

body simultaneously. The smirk he’d been trying

to hide grew into a full face grin. The woman with

Andy—Cheryl, giggled. The tiny, girlish sound

was something an eleven or twelve year old would

make, and hearing it spring from the Viking

warrior princess looking woman tickled Michael’s

fancy. She patted Andy’s shoulder.

“Well, I can see that the two of you are well

matched. I’ll leave you here, Andy, and go let the

nurses know you won’t need any assistance to get

settled in.”

She reached into her pants pocket,

extracting a card, which she handed to Andy with a

battlefield worthy flourish.

“Here you go. If you need anything, call

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 151 ~

me. We Norse folks have to watch out for one

another, ja”

Never taking his eyes off Michael, Andy

clutched the card tightly in his hand. He opened

and closed his mouth a few times before visibly

swallowing.

“Ja.”

With a smirk at Michael, Cheryl turned and

headed for the door. As she passed Michael’s

mother, she briefly laid a hand on the woman’s

shoulder.

“Nice to see you again, Donna. We’ve

missed you on Thursdays.”

Shooting a furtive glance at him, his

mother answered in a soft enough voice that she

probably thought he couldn’t hear her.

“Oh, they changed my schedule at the

restaurant. I found another meeting though. I’ve

got my two year chip now.”

Cheryl

squeezed

her

shoulder

and

continued out the door, calling back over her

shoulder.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 152 ~

“My number’s still the same. Give me a

ring; we can get together for coffee at that dessert

place you love so much. And it doesn’t even have

to be on a meeting night.”

~ 153 ~

Chapter Eleven

As Andy locked the wheels on the

wheelchair and flipped up the foot pedals, he

mulled over the implications of Donna Jean and

Cheryl’s little exchange. He’d bet his next

paycheck that they knew each other from some

sort of twelve step program. There was no way he

could let Michael just write the woman off, not

when Andy knew down to the soles of his beloved

half boots, that the damned idiot would regret

doing so for the rest of his life. A tiny sigh

escaped Andy at the thought of his boots. They

were perfect. Gazing into the mid-distance for a

second, he smiled—They’re exactly like the ones

worn by Andrej Pejic in an amazing photo op,

thank you very much, even if mine were thirty-five

dollar EBay knock-offs of the pricey military lace

up combat boots the famous model wore.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 154 ~

“Excuse me, ma’am. Would you mind

helping me over to my bed. I think I’ll be fine, but

the stuff they gave me last night may make me a

little wobbly when I get up, and I know Michael’s

not supposed to be getting up right now.”

Andy quite deliberately neither met

Michael’s eyes as he spoke to the fool’s mother,

nor did he meet them as she stepped to his side

proffering her arm for him to hold onto as he stood.

A grunting noise came from the bed Michael lay in.

After they’d taken a few steps toward the other,

empty bed, Andy rolled his eyes. How a man with

such a big heart—not to mention other equally

sizeable portions of his anatomy, at least not in

present company—could be such a shit was

mystifying. Because the rail was already lowered

on that side, Andy stopped at the side of the bed

closest to Michael. The temptation to reach across

the intervening space and smack some sense into

him ripped through Andy. He’d give anything to

have his mother still be alive.

As he sat and swung his pajama clad legs

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 155 ~

into the bed, Donna Jean spoke.

“Do you need anything else?”

A quick glance to the side showed that

Michael was clenching and unclenching his fist

again.

“Ah, yes. Would you go to the nurse’s

station and ask them to please bring me a pitcher

of water? The medicine they gave me dried me out

horribly.”

Giving him a fleeting smile, she turned and

hurried from the room. Andy braced himself for

the explosion he fully expected in three, two,

one—

“What the fuck, Andy?”

The bellow was loud enough that Andy

kept a weather eye on the door as he twisted his

torso to face a red faced, clenched jawed, narrow

eyed Michael.

“Ukk. Short-sighted, much? Perhaps giving

the poor woman a few minutes where you didn’t

say terrible things about her to her face or dip your

every utterance in venom would allow her to make

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 156 ~

the apology you seem to think she owes you. I

don’t know, maybe she does. Maybe she’s a

slavering monster who ought to be put down for

the safety of the rest of mankind. All I know is if

you don’t take the time to find out you’ll hate

yourself. At least you have a living, breathing

woman to work your issues out with. Not all of us

have that luxury, you insensitive ass.”

He was shouting wildly. The echoes of

sound reverberating back from the walls and

Michael’s suddenly slack-jawed mien, coupled

with the way the bigger man held his hands up as

though to stave off the attack of a rabid animal

made the increase in both Andy’s volume and his

intensity painfully obvious. Well, hell, he needed

another trip up to the huggie jacket domain of the

hospital like he needed a hole in the head. A. Hole

in his head. In Michael’s head, that’s where Ronald

Dieterman had wanted to put a hole. Raising a

shaking hand to his mouth, Andy blinked furiously

to keep the blurriness in his eyes from spilling

onto his face.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 157 ~

“Oh. Michael. I’m sorry. I-you were so still,

and that man kept talking about how he was only

going to put a hole in your head and there was

blood running down your neck. I-don’t throw

away the chance to know why. Don’t. I’m sorry I

yelled. You—I’d give anything to take back the

last words I said to my mother. I called her a bitch.

She said I couldn’t spend the night at Sasha

Zelinko’s house, and I called her a bitch. They

were the last words I ever spoke to her.”

A burning lump filled his entire throat.

Andy turned his face away while his hands pulled

futilely at the covers, seeking to pull them high

enough to hide behind. Silence reigned in the room

for a long beat of Andy’s bruised heart, and then

there was a creak and a thudding noise. A few

seconds later, Michael’s big hands gripped his

shoulder and the side of his face, turning him back

toward the other man. Michael opened his firm

pink lips, swayed in place, lifted the hand he’d

placed on Andy’s shoulder to run it over his own

stubble covered jaw and then shrugged.

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 158 ~

“I think you better scoot over. I’m still

kinda dizzy.”

Noting that Michael’s cheeks were nearly

as pale as they’d been last night when the

paramedics wheeled him out of Devon’s tiny

apartment, Andy hastily scooted over to the far

side of the bed.

“Get in here, Dumkopf.”

While the words were harsh, Andy hoped

Michael would recognize the soft tone he used for

what it was. When Michael gave the lazy half

smile that always tied Andy’s innards into lusty

knots, he knew he was forgiven. Collapsing onto

the bed, Michael grunted and twisted his long

frame onto the narrow bed. He reached over Andy

with one arm, scooping his hand under Andy to

drag him closer. Laughter bubbled up out of

Andy’s chest as he relaxed into the furnace-like

heat Michael put off. Pressing his face into the

crook of Michael’s neck, Andy drenched himself

in Michael’s unique scent.

“I was so scared, Michael.”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 159 ~

Grunting again, Michael squeezed Andy so

hard he could hear his ribs creaking. He relented

when Andy gasped.

“Yeah. I heard. I’m not leaving though.

There’s nothing you, or anyone else can do to

make me. Not one damn thing. Get that through

your pretty head, and things will be a lot simpler.”

Burying his face farther into the sweetly

scented crook of Michael’s neck, Andy whispered

the question he couldn’t keep back despite how

much he hated appearing weak enough to concern

himself with such things.

“Did you mean it?”

Michael didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes. But I’ll give you a year or two to get

used to the idea. I’m giving up my apartment as

soon as they let me out of here though. I don’t give

a shit what you tell anyone else, but you’re

through pretending with me. I’m sleeping in your

bed every night, fixing anything that’s broken on

your car or your house, and you can just deal with

it.”

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 160 ~

Smiling, Andy snuggled in a hair closer.

“I broke my wings.”

A chuckle rumbled through Michael.

“You mean the ones from your costume for

the party?”

Andy nodded. Michael made a low

humming noise, sliding his fingers along the curve

of Andy’s hip bone.

“I can fix that.”

Turning his head, Andy pressed a feather

light kiss to the hollow place where Michael’s

collar bones met.

“Okay. It’s nobody’s business what we do

but ours. If they ask you, I don’t care what you tell

them… I just don’t want to make any big

announcements. Just-can we just be for a while? I-

David lives with you though. Um, I have an extra

room. Or there’s the little apartment over my

garage. It needs some work.”

Michael’s fingers stilled for a second, and

Andy’s heart stood still.

“That’s perfect, Andy. He can stay in the

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 161 ~

house while we fix up the apartment for him, and

then he can move… but he’ll still be close enough

for me to keep an eye on him.”

Andy’s eyelids drooped as a wave of

exhaustion washed over him. A yawn wracked his

frame and spread his jaw wide open. There was

just one more question he needed answered before

he could give in to the dark call and let himself

drift on the midnight tides of sleep.

“And your mom?”

Michael grunted, squeezing him again.

Andy was no fool. He could feel the bunched

muscle difference this time.

“Please, Michael.”

A gust of air blew through the hair at the

top of Andy’s head.

“Fine, babe, you win. I’ll listen; hear what

she has to say. I’m not doing it today though.

When she comes back I’ll ask her to set something

up through Lynn.”

Andy lifted his face in a shameless bid for

a kiss. Michael proved he wasn’t a complete

By Any Other Name

Cherie Noel

~ 162 ~

Dumkopf by rolling Andy onto his back as he

pressed his lips down over Andy’s. A hint of

tongue promised more when they were somewhere

private, and Andy took that for what it was worth.

Michael always kept his promises.

Fin

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