A Snowball's Chance - 1. A Snowball's Chance

"I hate Valentine's. The commercialism, the drama ...."

"Drama? What do you know about drama, Jay?"

"It's fast-food, Donnie," he replied with a sardonic twist to his lips. "Who else works here, mm? Teenagers, mostly, that's what," he continued, prodding a couple limp patties on the flat, stainless steel grill. "And what are teenagers? If not drama."

"Huh. I think I resemble that remark." He grinned.

Jay groaned at the pun.

"But that's not the point. The point is, that only lonely, depressed people volunteer to work on Valentine's Day."

Jay smirked over his shoulder. "That explains you, then."

"Prick. I didn't volunteer, and you know it. You know what your problem is?"

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do." He leaned a hip against one of the cold fryers. "Your problem is you don't let yourself get emotionally invested."

Jay sighed. Problem Numero Uno when working at a place directly across the street from a college: college kids. They think they know everything.

"Spare me."

"It's why your poetry sucks."

"Hey!" He whirled. "I'll have you know I'm published!"

"Oh-ho, see? You let any of your boyfriends have that kind of passion and you wouldn't be lonely and alone on the most romantic day of the -- oomphf!"

Jay sprang away from the grill with a shout, brandishing his spatula. "Ha! Avast ye, m'hearty! Thou hast insulted me and I shall avenge mine honor!"

Donnie raised the fry tongs in mock salute. "Then battle ye shall have, though I stand by my words. And your Old English sucks."

Spatula met tongs with a clash.

"Just for that," Jay replied, "you're cleaning the fryers tonight."

"No fair!"

Problem Number Two: the most frequently uttered words out of a teenager's mouth are 'That's not fair.' Whosoever says life is fair ... lies.

"It's your turn!"

Jay stuck his tongue out. "That's why it's good to be the boss." Laughing, he blocked Donnie's counter-strike.

From her stool by the drive-thru window, Miranda peered briefly over her newspaper, rolled her eyes, and then proceeded to ignore the two men. Hm. Men. She must be feeling gracious today.

"Besides," Jay went on, getting in a few more smacks. "It's pirate-y Old English, anyway, so there."

"The fact of the matter -- ow! -- still stands. Don't quit your day job, matey."

"Maybe if I had a day job, dork." As night manager, Jay arrived around three and didn't leave until sometime between twelve-thirty and one. His friends teased him about being a vampire because Jay found it easier to just stay up once he got home rather than get up early and do stuff before work. As an aspiring poet, the hours he kept didn't matter a whole lot.

"Oi!" cried Donnie after a particularly nasty jab to the ribs. They were otherwise fairly well-matched in size. Jay had the advantage in height, but Donnie more than made up for it in poundage.

"En guarde, vile beast!" He chased Jay down the aisle towards the front counter, snapping the tongs as menacingly as his heat and exercise-flushed, chipmunk cheeks would allow.

Jay lifted an eyebrow. "'Vile beast?' I think I'm offended." Ducking an ill-aimed swipe, he tripped on the ice bucket and fell. "Ow! Fuck."

"Surrender, foul fiend, lest I be merciful."

Jay held up his hands in feigned terror. "Nay, nay, noble sir, spare me the sharpness of thy wit. Thou hast a serpent for a tongue, I fear." He could see Donnie's eyes practically cross as he strove to figure that one out and took advantage of the pause.

Gathering up his 'weapon,' Jay leaped to his feet, prepared to give battle once more. He lunged, poking his employee in the jiggly belly. "Ha-ha! Take that, villain!"

Hands on his hips, Donnie stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "Villain? If you're the pirate, doesn't that make me the hero?"

"And the villains always think of themselves so, I am sure," Jay replied, shaking his head.

Jay and Donnie both whipped around to the sound of a muffled snort of laughter. Standing on the other side of the counter, hand on a white paper sack, stood a man they gauged to be somewhere in his early to late twenties. He seemed to be going gray early, though his face lacked much in the way of laugh lines or wrinkles. He had an average kind of face, neither overly handsome nor particularly repulsive, just an average, mid-western American, just like the two tongue-tied men on the service-side of the counter.

Donnie nudged his boss with a hip, whispering, "I saw him first!"

"Nuh-uh," he hissed back. "'Sides, don't you need to go wash your hands?" He smirked.

Donnie scowled. "Prick."

"It's good to be the boss," said Jay lightly. He turned the full force of his smile on their customer. "Can I help you?" His inviting look could mean anything from polite gentility to bawdry temptation.

The subtlty was completely lost on Kip. He pushed the sack forward. "I asked for no tomato. I'm allergic."

"Oh." The smile wilted slightly. "Well, my apologies, then. Let me get you a new one. What did you have?"

"Number six. No tomato."

"Right." The guy didn't seem too upset, maybe a little annoyed, though that was understandable for a non-fugly guy alone on Valentine's Day. Or night. Especially the night. Most couples were off spending beaucoup bucks on candle-lit dinners or fancy parties or cuddling by the fireplace with homemade spagetti and the 'Love and Desperation' show playing on the radio. God, he hated Valentine's.

Jay dumped the bag in the trash, calling back the order to Donnie, now taking his place at the grill and tossing on a fresh patty.

"I got it, I got," he grumbled.

Washing his hands, Jay tossed fresh fries in the fry basket and set the timer. "Can I get you a drink?"

Their customer shrugged. "Sure. I must admit, I was surprised you were still open."

"Hm?" Jay popped the cap on a soda. "Why wouldn't we be? Open 'til ten, drive-thru closes at midnight." He set the drink on a tray. Sexual innuendos having gone unanswered, Jay had on his manager-face.

"You haven't been outside lately, have you?"

The man looked almost amused, but the concern mirrored back at Jay made him nervous. "No," he answered. "Why?" He didn't watch or read the news if he could avoid it. Snow wasn't unusual for February.

Kip pursed his lips, frowning. "I think you should turn on the weather station." He waved off-handedly towards the ceiling.

Jay's eyes unconsciously followed the gesture, staring up at the once cream-colored ceiling tiles absently.

"Oh," he managed, blushing slightly. "The musak. Um, yeah." Moving away from the counter to the back, he called to his other employee, "Miranda! It still snowing?"

She didn't bother looking up. "Been snowing all day."

Now, why did that sound so ominous?

He quickened his step, flipping on the light in the cramped, little office overflowing with paperwork. The blank bank of electronics dazzled him a moment and the plastic-covered instructions had seen better days, but Jay still mostly-remembered how to change the station to one of the local news broadcasts. Another knob turned on the speakers in the office so he could listen without going into the dining room section of the restaurant.

A few minutes later, Donnie and Miranda were peering in at him from the doorway while Jay lunged for the wireless phone. The General Manager and District Manager's numbers were pre-programmed and Jay called them both, but neither answered. He called their closest store in the franchise, but nobody picked up there, either.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. He faced the two worried teenagers. Problem Number Three: teenagers only cared about things that directly impacted them. That led to Problem Number Four: minor problems turned into epic-level drama when teenagers were involved. Like sharks circling blood in the water, all hell would break loose the moment panic leaked out.

"It's just a snow-storm, nothing to be worried about." He gave them a confident smile. "But, like the man said, no sense taking chances. We'll close down early tonight." He prayed it was the right decision, and instructed the two employees to start the clean-up list.

According to the newscaster, the whole city was shutting down. Why hadn't Steven called him? They'd only shut down a couple times in all the years Jay had worked there, once for a nasty ice-storm on Thanksgiving night when they'd planned to close early anyway, and once when a pipe burst, flooding the entire store. Both times they'd had the OK from the District Manager. Well, perhaps this time they'd just been overlooked.

Yes, he'd choose to believe that, but, no matter, he wasn't going to get trapped at the restaurant if the power went out. If he got in trouble, so be it. The only thing he was going to worry about was whether or not his car would start. The hand-me-down Saturn had been giving him trouble of late. Snow he could dig his way out of, and he was fairly certain he could stay on the road; the tires were fairly new, but the transmission was shot.

"Perfect," he muttered. His appointment at the garage was for Monday. "God hates me." He sighed.

Working his way through the closing checklist, Jay reminded himself sternly to take his time. Hurrying would only cause mistakes, and another hour wasn't going to make much difference at this rate, anyway. He came out of the back ready to lend a helping hand and found the others mostly finished.

Miranda scrubbed the shake machine, Donnie had the grill broken down and the fryers draining, and that guy, the no-tomato-I'm-allergic guy, was vacuuming the dining room.

"What?" Jay asked Donnie, pointing with his chin. Over the speakers, the weatherman gave another status update, warning all city residents to stay at home and off the roads. Only emergency shelters, hospitals, police and fire stations and the like were to stay open. Jay rolled his eyes at a bad snow day joke and ignored the tips on what to do if the power went out.

"Hey." Donnie nudged him.

Jay blinked. "What?"

"I said, 'He asked if he could help.' You don't mind, do you? He even cleaned the bathrooms!" The last comment he added as a loud whisper.

"He did?" Jay echoed, glancing back over at the man expertly maneuvering the decrepit, old vacuum around table and chair legs. Nobody liked cleaning the bathrooms. Jay traded off with the other closers, because he hated cleaning the bathroom, too, and Jay prided himself on sharing the chores, unlike other managers (who would remain nameless) who took their slightly higher paycheck as an excuse to skiv off any work they didn't feel like doing.

"Yeah," Donnie replied, still whispering. "And they sparkle."

"Sparkle?" Did he sound like an idiot? Jay was sure he did, repeating everything Donnie said.

"Yeah, sparkle. As in lick your food off the urinal clean."

"Ew," said Jay. "I did not need that visual, thank you." He shuddered. "Okay, whatever, bathrooms're clean. Then I'll get going on those dishes."

"Oh, and his name's Kip," Donnie called out, loudly and with a cheerful grin. "In case you wanted to know."

Jay froze and stared across the store to where Kip stood staring back at them.

"Ass!" Jay swore under his breath, flushing dark red and letting Donnie's laughter chase him around the corner to the sink. You're an ass, Donnie! He completely missed the shy smile from the man in the lobby.

Kip ducked his head under Donnie's knowing smirk and turned away. Coming here was a spur of the moment thing. The airport was snowed in, but he hadn't wanted to spend even one more night under his parents' roof. Coming home had been a bad idea all around, but one's brother didn't get married every day, and he'd asked, which was a big step for them. Kip wouldn't have passed up the chance, not for the world.

But that also left him stranded in a Burger Hut in a blizzard. Some Valentine's Day this was turning out to be!

The manager, Jay, had a sweet face, and he hadn't lost his head when he'd learned the truth of their situation. In Kip's line of work, clear-headedness and decisiveness in the face of certain doom was a required trait. His partner called him brave, but Kip just wasn't afraid to die. Although the situation was far from dire, Jay was competent and confident, something Kip wished he felt, too, rather than pretended to most days. Reason number two to stay and see if he could talk to the man.

The thing was, Kip was concerned about the other man. Yes, concerned, beacuse it was stupid to worry about someone you didn't even know, but interesting that it took a stranger to spark in him any kind of emotion other than annoyance. It was a rather novel feeling, and he puzzled over it while he worked.

Then again, reason number one to just let things be: he didn't live here.

He sighed. And reason number two was best left unspoken, even in his head.

When at last there was nothing more to be done, the equipment broken down and cleaned and put up, floors mopped, stocking finished and inventory complete, they each armed themselves with a bag of trash and buttoned up coats to brave the storm outside. Donnie and Kip tossed the bags into the dumpster while Miranda held the gate and Jay set the alarm. They looked at each other, standing forlornly ankle-deep in snow, and laughed.

"Thanks!" Jay told Kip, loud in the hushed quiet of the blizzard. "Come by again for a free meal sometime. On me." He offered a numb hand for a handshake. "Sure did appreciate the help."

Very glad the cold outside already had his cheeks colored to a bright pink, Kip nodded and accepted the handshake with a firm grip. He watched as Jay followed the two teenagers over to where their cars were parked, shouting at them to be careful and not get in any accidents, he didn't want to have to call their parents.

From a pocket in his coat, Jay withdrew a knitted cap and pulled it on, patting to make sure his ears were covered. Nothing he hated more than to be toasty warm but with cold ears. He stuck his hands in his armpits a moment to warm them up before fumbling with the keys. The only benefit to snow over ice (other than being a damned sight warmer) was that you didn't have to worry about whether or not the lock would be frozen shut. Chipping your way into your car sucked. Waiting for the car to heat up enough to melt the ice off sucked even more. That was the one good thing about closing rather than opening. Normally, by the time he needed to leave, the afternoon sun had melted everything and he didn't have to worry about it.

The only question was: will the car start?

Sliding behind the wheel, he stuck the key in ... to no result.

"Oh, God," he murmured. "C'mon, not now. Start for me, come on ... Damn it!" He thumped the steering column and took a minute to tug his gloves on before trying again. The engine wasn't turning over at all, and there were no lights coming on in the dash to let him know there was power.

Fat chance getting a tow or a jump in this weather. There was really only one thing left to do, call his father and ask for a ride. This was so going to suck. He would never hear the end of it.

"Ugh -- Augh!"

Jay jumped at a knock on his window. He opened the door, since the windows wouldn't open without the car being on. It was that guy again, Kip.

"Need a lift?"

"Uh, as a matter of fact, yes!" Jay beamed and got out. A guy who voluntarily cleans the bathroom of a two-bit fast-food restaurant couldn't be a psycho, right?

He climbed into the SUV with a relieved sigh. No parents, no waiting around for a ride, life was good.

"So, where to?" Kip snapped on his seat belt and cranked the heat up in the passenger side seat warmer.

"Eleventh and Willow, by the high school."

"Where? I don't know the city very well." Find his way in the middle of the tundra with a map and a compass, sure, no sweat. City streets? Without GPS, Kip was lost.

"Oh?" A visitor, then. Too bad. "Okay, well, we'd best stay on the main roads, anyway. Highway'll be all but impossible. Go that way." He pointed. "And take a right on the parkway, then a left on Marshall."

"You got it."

There was snow ... and then there was snow. The snow itself didn't bother Kip; it was the visibility (or lack thereof) which concerned him. Yes, concern, because Kip had driven in far worse than this, many times, even, but his passenger wasn't his partner and he wasn't on a job. The risk was less, because there was no one counting on them to arrive in one piece; and yet, more, because ... well, damned if Kip could figure that out.

Chancing a glance over, he say Jay pull off his gloves, blow on cold fingers, and then shove his hands under his thighs for warmth. The coat seemed a little overkill, Kip's wasn't that big or thick, but the skinny red-head probably didn't have enough body fat to be comfortable with less. His nose was the most adorable, pink color -- whoa!

The tires hit a patch of ice and they skidded, a bit, before Kip could get the wheels turned and regain control.

"Whoo!" laughed Jay, leaning forward against the seatbelt. He turned his head to grin at Kip. "Let's do that again!"

"No." Clenching his teeth, Kip stared back out the windshield, forcing himself to concentrate on the road ahead. This was no time to be dwelling on daydreams!

Jay settled back. "Hey!" he exclaimed softly, eyes dropping half-closed with bliss. "The seats warm up! Oooh." He could so get used to this! When he could finally afford a new car, he'd make sure to get one with the seats like this.

"Control's here," said Kip, pointing to a dial on the dash. "If you get too warm."

"Nah," Jay sighed. "Mm, so good."

Eyes on the road, eyes on the road! thought Kip. He desperately tried to think of something intelligent and socially acceptable to say. His hands tightened around the wheel.

Concern. Yes, concern, because if he didn't get them to their destination soon, he was going to have a real problem. Oh, God, what was he going to do? Shit! Jay's lips were so pink and, parted like that -- oh, God! Stop! What am I doing?

"Where, uh, wh-where to now?"

"We'll be on this road a while," Jay replied, keeping his eyes closed. "When you see the KFC, take a right, then a left at the next light."

"'Kay." Kip licked his lips. Eyes on the road!

"So, what brings you to Marysville?"

Kip glanced at him, and immediately yanked his eyes away again. "Um, wedding. A, uh, my brother got married."

Jay let out his breath in a soft sigh. Wedding was good. For someone else was better, but, reality check: not from around here. Too damn bad. On the other hand, he could have himself a little fun and the fling would be over before feelings could get in the way of things.

"How long you staying?"

"Not. Um, I mean, I'm not. The snow. The airport's closed."

"Oh." Damn. Okay. One-night stands were okay, too, and it was always the shy, quiet types who turned into real domineering bastards in bed, anyway.

He smiled to himself. Hasn't been that long since I've been laid if I'm still trying to rationalize it. Although, if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn't the initial attraction he had problems with, but the maintenance of a relationship that he sucked at. All the better, if this guy was leaving town soon. And he wasn't good-looking enough to automatically sneer if Jay made a pass at him ... Although, he hadn't even seemed interested back at the store. Was he gay?

Jay's initial instinct was for the affirmative. Guys didn't normally blush and stammer in his presence, anyway, but he also wasn't making any moves. Huh. Maybe he wasn't a dom, after all.

Happening to catch the little, evil smirk that spread across Jay's face, Kip swallowed, jerking the wheel as the car started to drift again.

Eyes on the road! EYES ON THE ROAD!

"Hey," said Jay quietly. "If you're not used to the snow, just take your time. There's no rush."

"I'm fine!" Kip snapped.

Jay subsided. "Sure, sure, whatev." He unzipped his coat to be more comfortable. "Take a left at the next light."

By the time Jay finally directed him into the driveway of a house indestinguishable from all the others in the neighborhood under the snow, Kip was a wreck. He accepted the offer to come inside without even thinking, too damn glad to get out of the tiny confines, all in one piece, to be concerned with the implications of the offer. Sweating despite the cold, he opened the back door to grab his bag and trudged after Jay.

"Mom? Dad?" called Jay, stepping inside the door to stomp the snow off his shoes. He flipped the lightswitch, but the light didn't come on. "Anyone home?"

The house, Kip saw, was a split-level. He stood awkwardly beside Jay in the entryway, shedding coats and shoes. Immediately to the right were stairs going down, directly ahead was what looked to be a closet door and a door into the garage, and opposite that were stairs going up. A soft glow approached from up that way in the dark.

"Jay?" called a feminine voice.

He grabbed his coat and Kip's to hang them up. "Yeah, Mom, it's me."

"Oh, thank God, we were getting worried. Everything okay? Oh!" She stopped, leaning on the rail to look down at them. Her frown was politeness itself as she said, "Jay, you know how I feel about bringing home unexpected guests."

"I know, but my car wouldn't start, and Kip offered me a ride."

"I, um --"

"Oh!" Her smile brightened, a duplicate of Jay's welcome back at the restaurant. "Then come in, come in. Power's out, but the stove's gas. I'll make some hot chocolate."

"Mo-om!" Jay groaned, but she was already disappearing into the kitchen.

"Your father left his flashlight down there. Why don't you both come up and make yourselves comfortable?"

"You live at home?" demanded Kip, finally snapping out of his astonished immobility.

Although his eyes were hidden in the semi-darkness, Kip could swear the ice in Jay's voice was instantly converted to steam by the way he glared.

"Problem with that?" he hissed. "Fine." He shoved Kip's coat back at him. "Thanks for the lift and good night!"

Kip dropped his bag as he tried to catch his coat. "I ...!"

Jay snatched up the flashlight from the shoe rack and stuffed his feet into a pair of thick slippers. He stomped up the stairs after his mother. "So where's Dad and Alec?"

Their voices tinkled down to where Kip still stood indecisively by the front door.

"Oh, you know your brother. Your father took him over to Roger's Park to go sledding. Hopefully, he'll be wore out enough to sleep when they get back. What happened to my car?"

"My car, Mom, remember? And I'm not sure. When'd the power go out?"

"'Bout an hour ago. Should be back on soon."

Slowly, Kip hung his coat up on the pegs by the door and set his shoes beside Jay's. With a sigh, he settled on the carpeted steps and leaned against the stair rail, toes rubbing together for warmth. He listened to the two talk, wanting very much to go up, but feeling every bit out of place. He didn't have that kind of easy relationship with his family. Not that he blamed them.

He wanted to go home, where the only person who knew about his past had hired him because of it, and not despite it.

The door swinging open startled him, making Kip leap to his feet.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Meeery Christmas!"

"Daaad!" Jay complained, coming out of the kitchen to stare at his dad, resembling nothing so much as a tall, skinny snowman. Beside him was Jay's younger brother, Alec, likewise covered in snow and giggling like the eight year-old he was, mentally.

"It's Valentine's, not Christmas!"

"You put the sleds away?"

"Yes, Dear!" He grinned at Alec and pulled off their caps. Both had the same red hair and blue eyes as Jay, though their father's eyes were more hazel than outright blue.

Eyes adjusted to the dimness, Kip thought that Jay was the spitting image of his father, with more hair, and without the glasses. The resemblance between the brothers was even more extreme. Were they twins?

"Come on up, hot chocolate's ready."

"Yay!" exclaimed Alec. "Chocolate!" He tore off coat and shoes and barrelled past Kip and up the stairs. "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!"

"Pat!"

The older man cringed, and then grinned, shaking his head. He halted when he saw Kip. "Hi. I'm Pat, and you are?"

"Um ... um ...."

"It's Kip, Dad, don't scare him," said Jay reprovingly. Flashlight on, he frowned at his father. "Don't worry, Kip, he's a cop, but he's really nicer than he looks." The stare he levelled at his father was warning enough.

"Nice to meet you, Kip."

He shook hands. "Sure, Mr ...?"

"Just call me Pat. That your car in the drive?"

"Um, yes, I --"

"Kip gave me a lift home, Dad."

"Saturn giving you trouble again?"

Although shorter than his son, Pat had a commanding presence and Kip found himself retreating up the stairs rather than stand awkwardly by while the older man passed.

Jay shrugged. "Could be. Was going to take it in to the shop on Monday, anyway. You not working tonight?"

"Nope. Captain said not to come in unless he called. Battening down the hatches, it's quite a blow, but it'll all be over early. Glad you made it home okay, son."

"Me, too."

Jay's mother came into the room with mugs of steaming hot chocolate and he grabbed two, pressing one into Kip's hands.

"C'mon, Kip, let's go downstairs."

"Don't stay up too late," Pat cautioned. "I'll need your help to shovel the walk in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah." He kissed his brother's cheek. "G'night, munchkin."

Alec pouted. "I wanna stay up, too. I'm a big boy."

"No, time for bed," said Pat. "Let's go, Sport, before I'm too tired to read you a story."

Disappointment forgotten, Alec raced towards his bedroom. "I want Bears! I want Bears!"

Kip glanced back upstairs as he followed Jay. "What's wrong with him?" he asked when they were alone.

"Got some developmental delays," Jay answered, setting his mug on the coffee table by the old, green couch. "You might say mentally retarded, though that's not PC anymore." He knew Kip's next question without him having to ask, adding, "Yes, we're twins. He's younger by twelve minutes. Why it didn't affect me, too, God only knows."

Going to the closet, he pulled some thick blankets off the shelves. Power should be on soon, and he was too lazy to go into the garage for the space heater. They would be quite comfortable on the couch. No fireplace or candles, but hot chocolate and two warm bodies was plenty. Perhaps this Valentine's Day wasn't a total loss, after all.

"You like Pirates of the Caribbean?"

Holding his mug and watching Jay spread out the blankets, Kip blinked. "Um ...."

"We can watch it on my PSP. Hang on, I'll be right back." Flashlight bobbing, he disappeared into his bedroom at the end of the hall.

When he came back, he had exchanged his work clothes for loose, cotton pants, shirt, and thick, fluffy (his mom called them girly), fleece socks. He wrapped the end of the blanket around himself, set the flashlight on the table, pointing up, and raised an eyebrow at Kip.

"Well?" Dear God, the guy was almost too adorable. "Come on, have a seat." He patted the cushion beside him.

Kip shifted his feet, swallowing and holding onto his mug with a white-knuckled grip. He took a gulp of the hot liquid, scalding his tongue, and cursed himself for three different kinds of fool.

He sat.

Jay wrapped them in blankets and angled himself to almost be leaning into where Kip sat rigid as a board in the corner of the sofa. He flipped on the PSP and grabbed his hot chocolate.

Jay's head rested against Kip's shoulder, his red curls tickling Kip's nose. He caught himself sniffing deeply and only prayed that Jay hadn't noticed. The restaurant clung to Jay like a french-fry-scented perfume.

He pushed himself from the couch abruptly, stammered something about needing the bathroom, and stumbled away. There were a number of doors, but he found the bathroom next to the utility room and quickly shut himself inside. He leaned against the sink, both palms flat on the counter, and panted. He refused to acknowledge the growing ache between his legs.

Jay knocked softly. "Kip? Are you okay?"

"F-Fine," he croaked. Please, just go away!

Outside in the hall, Jay smirked. "It's okay, you know," he said. "No need to be embarassed, we're both guys, it happens."

"No, it doesn't!" Kip hadn't had a spontaneous hard-on since his early teens. This was what he'd wanted to find out when he stayed at the restaurant, wasn't it? But what did he do now?

"Leave me alone."

"Can't do that." Jay turned the knob. The bright glow of the flashlight reflected softly in Kip's dark eyes. He looked so uncertain, so bashfully beautiful, that Jay couldn't have torn himself away if his life depended on it.

He held his ground, however, as Jay drew closer, only flinching when Jay guided one of Kip's tough, callused hands to cup his groin.

"See? I'm hard for you, too."

"I -- I'm sorry!" He yanked his hand back, sliding away along the counter.

"No need," purred Jay. "I like you, you obviously like me, no need to be ashamed. I'm not." He reached for Kip's pants and he jerked away again, making Jay frown.

"Please don't," said Kip, losing the fight to cover his groin, glancing away to the side and wishing he could just die. Swallowed right up by the earth ....

A hand cupped the side of his face, tilting his face up, and he obeyed automatically. Eyes widened, and then fluttered shut as a moan rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. Jay smelled like french fries, but his kiss was all chocolate. A tremor ran down and then back up Kip's spine as Jay cupped his face in both hands.

The cold, tile floor beneath his feet and against his back ceased to exist for the fuzzy heat bursting from Kip's skin. Like scuffing his feet in thick, shag carpet, his hair felt like it was standing up from his head, his ears picking up nothing but the silence of snow piling up against the tiny window above his head.

He both couldn't breath and didn't need to, his head lighter than air. If that tender contact should be lost, he didn't know if he could remain standing. For once, his conscience stayed quiescent, leaving Kip to wallow in the strange, coiling feeling in his gut and the way his cock pressed inquiringly against his hands.

Jay drew back from the kiss, eyes amused but no less aroused at the completely unself-conscious, confused need written on Kip's face, even with his eyes closed. His lips were soft and pliant, slightly parted as he panted, and his cheeks felt warm under Jay's hands.

Oh, my, he thought. Maybe God doesn't hate me, after all.

He waited for Kip to realize the kiss was over and open his eyes. Then Jay kissed him again, softly and with no tongue, waiting for Kip to make a move, but the man only trembled harder under Jay's hands, his groaning, strangled moan only slightly louder. His thick eyelashes beat feebly, feather-soft against Jay's fingers.

Letting the kiss end, Jay pressed his lips to Kip's cheek with a reluctant sigh. He took one of Kip's hands and led him from the bathroom.

"Take off your pants," he whispered, stopping Kip by the abandoned nest.

He moved to obey and froze, cheeks blossoming with color. "I -- I don't -- I've never ...!" he stammered, powerless to move away, but heart running with him up the stairs and out the door, away from this heady feeling that wanted to drop him into a boneless heap.

"I know," Jay replied, equally softly. He sat down and switched off the light, plunging them into darkness. "Take off your pants and sit down. You can keep your underwear on."

The darkness was somehow comforting, knowing that Jay couldn't see his hot blush or awkward fumbling. The cold air caressed his skin, bringing to mind the feel of Jay's hands on his skin, and making him feel hot all over again.

His pants hit the floor in a rush and jingle of keys. Kip shivered as he stepped out of them, tugging self-consciously at his briefs, his cock letting him know in no uncertain terms how happy it was to be free.

"I -- I --" He started to stammer again and bit his lip, toes turning in towards each other as he froze in sudden self-consciousness.

Jay took his hand and guided him down onto the couch. Straddling his lap, Jay re-situated the blankets around them and shifted so that their cocks bumped against each other.

"Oh!" gasped Kip. He wanted to push Jay away, but his traitorous hands stayed glued to his waist. He stared up at Jay with wide, wanting but uncertain black eyes.

"I ... wait, I --"

"Shh, baby," Jay whispered, letting the pad of his index finger rest against lips that cried out to be kissed. "Don't think. I won't do anything you don't want me to, okay?"

It wasn't physical, but Jay could swear that Kip shrank at those words, only his eyes seeming to get larger. What had he said? God, he was so hot, so ready for this man, and yet he dared not. Kip was so skittish that Jay was afraid he'd bolt at actual sex and knowing that he wasn't going to be able to claim that body for his own gave him a punched-in-the-gut feeling, as if someone had grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed, like an Indiana Jones movie.

Kip was leaving in the morning; Jay wanted this to be a good experience, so that maybe the next time he visited, they could see each other again. Maybe he'd come back sooner, if Jay gave him a reason to.

He swooped in for another kiss and the resistant tension melted away. Kip's hands fell away and Jay stopped to gather them up and put them back, smiling encouragingly. When he kissed him again, Kip's trembles telescoped down his arms and his grip tightened, pulling Jay tight as his hips jerked.

Hands lost in the blonde-brown hair, Jay moaned, throwing his head back as he arched into that touch.

Kip stared, mouth fallen open as he gasped brokenly. There was light from somewhere, now that his eyes were adjusted to the dark, highlighting the curve of Jay's neck and chin, like fireflies. Catching his breath in a sob, Kip's hands slid upwards to press his cheek into Jay's chest in a desperate hug. Tears dripped off the tip of his nose and he held tight, wanting so deeply that he felt twisted inside out, the inner hurt revealed to anyone looking. He squeezed his eyes shut, deepening the darkness, grateful to have somewhere to hide.

All the stress of the past week welled up in his throat, locked up and unable to let anything pass. Jay's family was so warm and happy ... if his family had been like that ... was like that ... would things have turned out the same? Would he still have found himself here, at this point in his life? Wanting what he wanted but not knowing how?

Kissed landed soft and undemanding against his forehead. Fingers tilted his face up so lips could nuzzle against his cheeks, the lids of his eyes, his nose. He bit his lip when the kisses nibbled at his lips.

Jay felt Kip withdraw and knew the moment was lost. He ceased pushing and pulled back, to envelop the other man in his arms, rocking him slightly as Kip let go and just sobbed. His fingers clawed at Jay's back and his eyes stayed fiercely closed, despite the tears. So buried was he in Jay's embrace and his own grief that he remained unaware when the power came back, the heater turning on with a groaning, metallic thrum.

His mother came down the stairs, turning off a few lights that had been missed, and paused at the foot of the stairs. Jay shook his head to indicate he didn't want her to get involved, and she retreated once more.

It wasn't exactly the Valentine's Day Jay had envisioned, not even the revised version, but it was hard to argue when being held onto so tightly, plastered against Kip's skin like a life preserver.

He eased his legs from their cramped position, wrapping them around Kip's waist, and settled in for a long wait. Emotions. They were highly overrated.

The tears dried up long before the sobs ended, leaving Kip limp and trembly in Jay's arms. Jay eased him back into the cushions and curled up beside him, waking in the wee hours of morning (by his watch) with Kip's head pillowed in his neck as they lay on their sides. Their legs were tangled and Jay was caught inside the circle of Kip's arms.

He wiggled loose without waking him, replacing his body with one of the pillows fallen to the floor. Dressing, he grabbed a shovel from the garage and joined his father outside.

There was something magical about the morning after a fresh snow-fall. The air was crisper and cleaner somehow, the world quiet and peaceful, as if nothing evil or bad could possibly exist in the beauty that was winter.

They shovelled quietly, clearing the snow and digging the driveway clear of the wall built up by passing snow plows. At the foot of the drive they paused, breath visible in the chilly morning.

"How's Kip?" Pat asked his son, adjusting his gloves.

He didn't wonder that his father knew; just shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Not really sure what's bothering him." A virgin, for sure, and terribly unsure of himself. Family, perhaps, weddings were stressful. Jay had been to a few as his old friends grew up and got married.

"Anyway, still sleeping. Do you know when the airport will be open?"

"Hm, can't say as I do. We can ask your mother." He studied his son. Jay looked more quiet and reserved than usual, even with how much Pat knew he liked the snow. "Not from around here, then?"

"No." He didn't know much about Kip, and the knowledge turned his thoughtful eyes sad. Without his awareness, his expression softened and turned further inward. God hated him. Why else would he send someone like Kip his way only to take him away again?

He dipped his head, staring off up the empty street. "It's not fair."

Pat didn't pry, letting the barely-spoken comment pass by unacknowledged. As much as learning about his son's sexual preferences still sometimes had the power to shock him, he wanted his son to be happy. He was a grown man and deserved a life of his own, even if he'd never be able to give Pat grandchildren. He knew that bothered his wife most of all. After Alec, they'd put so much on Jay, but his sensitive spirit hadn't handled the pressure well. That wasn't his fault; it had been unfair of them to ask -- nay, demand -- so much.

"Hey, you two!" Astrid, Jay's mother, stood on the porch, waving to them. "Hurry up or breakfast will get cold!"

Jay snapped out of his introspective mood in an instant. "Last one in's a rotten egg!" He turned, boots slipping and sliding on the ice.

"Hold on there a moment, Sport," said Pat with a grin. A quick turn of the wrist, a well-aimed shove, and Jay went down with a shout in the waist-high snow drift covering the front lawn.

"Ah!" he cried. "Mooom! Dad's doing his judo thing again!" He laughed as his father shovelled snow on top of him to silence him.

Too late. Astrid's voice floated back out to them, "John Patrick Carpenter, Junior!"

"Punk," Pat growled.

Jay popped out of the snow, grinning and sticking his tongue out. Seeing someone too big to be his mother standing in the doorway, he waved. "Heya, Kip! Morning!"

Oh, kid, thought Pat as he watched Jay's happy smile fade when the other boy retreated. Aloud, he asked, "How did you two meet?"

"Allergic to tomato," muttered Jay in distraction. His eyes widened. "Oh! Mom!" He floundered through the snow towards the front door. "Mom, Kip can't have tomato!"

Pat gave his son another push to send him sprawling, arriving at the front door first under assault by the snowball-throwing machine that was John Patrick Carpenter the Third. He laughed, Jay laughed, Alec laughed, Astrid swore lightly, pretending to be angry, and Kip stood off to the side, wide-eyed and visibly uncomfortable.

He scurried away as soon as he could confirm his plane's departure time, thanking Jay and his family for taking him in. He allowed himself one look back at the end of the street, knowing that it was a bad idea, but unable to help himself. He could see Jay standing at the end of the driveway, watching after.

He lifted a hand in a wave, and Kip's hand came off the wheel to wave back, but he tightened his grip with a shake of his head and drove away.