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Monday Night Cuddle

As Doctor Mark Sloan walked the short distance from his car to his beach home, the orange light of the sunset gave the normally snowy white hair on his head and mustache a rosy glow. Every one of his 60+ years seemed to increase exponentially with every step he took, making the oft- maligned concept of retirement seem a little more appealing than it normally was.

It had been a brutal couple of weeks. Society, American society in particular, put a high value on technology, but it only took one little microscopic bug to bring humanity to its knees. Los Angeles had been hit by a particularly nasty strain of influenza virus and treating the local population had been complicated by a series of bad flu shots that had been distributed in the area. Instead of protecting the vulnerable and those whose jobs exposed them to the public, the preventative injections had actually helped to spread the very disease they were designed to ward against. The medical community, including the Community General Hospital that was Mark's second home, were hard-pressed to keep up with the flood of patients. Only in the last couple of days had the mini-epidemic had been brought under control and physicians could get some much- needed rest.

Mark entered the rapidly darkening house quietly. His son and roommate, Steve, had been one of the first stricken with the new flu. A detective with the LAPD, Steve had been a recipient of a bad flu shot. Although his good health had kept the younger Sloan from becoming dangerously ill, Mark had worried about his son. Steve took his police responsibilities very seriously and it had taken a lot of persuasion to keep him in bed and properly recuperating rather than on the streets with the other cops, trying to help maintain order.

Treading softly, Mark crossed over to the family room, the flickering lights dancing down the hall an indication that the television was on. As he approached, the doctor could hear the distinctive murmur of a football game. That told him he was on the right track for finding his son. Where there was football, Steve was sure to be.

He was right.

Mark stopped in the doorway, frazzled nerves soaking the tranquil scene in front of him. The football game was on all right and there was Steve, stretched out on the couch. Nothing unusual about that... but his son wasn't alone. Sprawled over him like a living blanket was Steve's lover, sound asleep.

When Steve was younger, Mark had envisioned the ideal life for his son. A wife to love and to love him in return. Family. A career that engaged his son's intellect as well as his heart. Part of it, a career in policework that Steve loved every bit as much as his father loved medicine, had come true. But the rest of it had never quite happened. Slowly over the years, Mark had come to realize that he and his brawny blonde son didn't have exactly the same expectations as far as a domestic partner was concerned. Although he prided himself on his open-mindedness, Mark had balked at first at the thought that one of his children was gay. But as he witnessed Steve try time and again to adhere to traditional expectations for a mate... only to fail miserably with every woman he tried to create a relationship with... Mark found himself letting go of his dreams for Steve's future home life. Instead, he just hoped that his son would find someone worthy to love him. If that someone just happened to have a penis, well, Mark would just have to deal with it. As long as Steve was happy.

Looking in on the blissful couple, there was little doubt in Mark's heart at his son's happiness.

At well over six feet in height, Steve took up most of the couch. In contrast, Dr. Jesse Travis was about a half foot shorter, but managed to take up most of Steve's space and then some. Both men were blonde and athletic, but that was about as far as the similarity went. Steve was not only more physically intimidating, but was also over ten years older than Jesse and had the hard edge that years of being on the LAPD brought. Jesse, on the other hand, was all heart and enthusiasm, with nary a nasty bone in his body. Many people thought they were an odd match, but their differences nicely offset one another. Ironically enough, it was Mark Sloan himself that had brought them together. Dr. Travis was a protégé of his and, since Mark assisted his son on his homicide investigations, it was natural enough that Jesse and Steve would end up working side by side.

Of course, Mark hadn't exactly expected his son and his student to end up being lovers, but he couldn't say he regretted it either. Not when Steve wore the expression of contentment that was currently on his face.

Jesse lay directly on top of Steve, with his head pillowed on the older man's broad chest. One arm wrapped around Steve's waist and disappeared amongst the pillows of the couch, while the other curled up next to Jesse's face, the fingers lightly holding the fabric of his lover's shirt. The lovers' legs were intertwined, the flannel of both men's sleep pants making it difficult to tell where one man began and the other ended.

Steve's face was turned towards the television, with one arm protectively wrapped around his partner and the other hand idly stroking up and down the sleeping man's back. Mark could tell his son's attention wasn't totally on the game because Steve would bend once in a while to kiss the top of Jesse's head.

As loathe as he was to disturb them, Mark also didn't want to startle his son. Talking softly, he greeted him by asking about his fellow doctor. "When did he conk out?"

The laugh lines at the corner's of Steve's eyes deepened as he smiled. "Didn't even make it to the kick off."

"That's too bad, I know Jesse was looking forward to the game."

"Yeah, but he was tired...."

Mark grimaced, knowing his son's observation was an understatement. Jesse had definitely been burning the candle at both ends during the recent crisis, putting in insane hours at the hospital and then rushing home to check on Steve. One of the few doctors not to succumb to the flu, Jesse had been on his feet for days. His youth and exuberance had allowed him to keep up with the frantic pace for a time, but no one could keep up that level of effort forever. Something had to give and Mark had ended up sending Jesse home in cab, concerned about the exhausted man driving in his condition.

"Dad?"

Mark's attention was caught by the worried tone in his son's voice. "What's the matter, Steve?"

"Jess went out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow..." Steve broke off at the amused look on his father's face. Realizing that Jesse's head wasn't exactly resting on a pillow, the big man blushed before continuing. "You know what I mean. He hasn't moved since we settled in to watch the game. You don't think he could be coming down with it, do you?"

"Hmmm...." Mark crossed over and brushed Jesse's hair aside to check the temperature of the young man's forehead. "There's no fever, Steve."

Both Sloans quieted as Jesse stirred. The exhausted doctor didn't fully wake, just batted at the intruding hand before nuzzling deeper into Steve's chest.

"As rundown as he is, I wouldn't be surprised if Jesse came down with *something,*" Mark reluctantly admitted, "but let's not borrow trouble. He gets sick, we'll deal with it." The elder Sloan headed for the door, adding a last reassurance over his shoulder. "One thing's for sure, if Jesse does get sick, between my medical expertise and your hovering, he'll get the best treatment in LA."

"You got that right," Steve agreed without hesitation, then added a heartfelt, "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem, son. Good night."

Mark left the room, pausing to look back. Steve's hand had moved from rubbing Jesse's back to stroking through the younger man's hair, the detective bending for another kiss to the top of his lover's head. No, this wasn't what Mark had in mind when he'd pictured a mate for his son. But, despite the packaging, he knew Steve was with the person that completed him.

No loving father could want for more than that for his child. Content, Mark left the lovers in peace and left the room to find his own much-needed rest.

~finis~