Title: "Drifting..."

Author/pseudonym: xof

Fandom: Queer As Folk (USA)

Pairing: Michael N/Brian K

Rating: Nc-17

Status: New/Complete

Archive: Yes. Please. (Qaf Archive and Across The Pond, especially)

Feedback: xof@rose.net

Website: http://the-nesting-place.com/xof.html

Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Only. Everything."

Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. I presume Showtime does…

Notes: This story is a fleshed out (groaning at my unbelievably bad pun) continuation of the events I caused (hee hee) to occur for our two lads in my story, "Only. Everything." I strongly encourage you to read it first. It's on my site and at the two archives mentioned above, among others. I'm relatively new to writing for the US contingent of QAF though I'm an old pro at the UK version, so I'm hesitant to crow too loudly. You'll tell me if I get it right, yeah??? Hope you enjoy.

Summary: What happens when once you've had a taste and the ache only grows worse . . .

Warnings: Spoilers for US QAF, but only a tad. Up through episode fourteen. Trust me. If you haven't seen the show, this story WILL translate. You won't be left out as long as you read first of this duet. Another missing scene - this time from episode 14 - that carries on the events of my previous story . . . told from Brian's POV.

FEEDBACK is definitely needed, especially given how nervous I am at trying new territory. Would really appreciate knowing how you all feel on this one. Details gladly accepted. Not betaed.

We'd kept our eyes open that night . . . as we kissed, as we came. And then we said it was all a dream. But tonight . . . we found ourselves lost in the moment . . . lost once more in the dream. Our dream. It wasn't something that I'd meant to have happen again. The first night was a surprise . . . as illicit in it's suddenness as in the warmth and undeniability of feeling him giving in to my kiss. Lying there drowning in alcohol and feeling the tears streaming down my face after seeing my father. Turning to face him in the dark, I'd reached out blindly for what I knew could be my only comfort. I didn't think. I just did what I wanted in that moment. What we both wanted.

And then I almost fell apart because I'd lost control and risked what was most important in my life. I'd risked losing him.

Mikey. He's been with me since I was fourteen. We'd always had each other. And no matter what happened or how I'd mistreated him, he was there still. I held on to that. To knowing he wouldn't leave. But that night, I started to shake thinking that I'd pushed us apart by taking him into my arms. Only he saved us by being stronger than I'd imagined either of us could be in the aftermath . . . by giving us a way out that didn't mean we'd lost or won.

"It can all be a dream."

And it was.

Hell, since then though I'd hardly been able to close my eyes and not see his face. That statement of pure bliss and need as he came against me. The paleness of his skin enhanced by the warmth of his desire and the light of the street lamp shining over my shoulder from the window behind us.

It didn't matter who I was with, the situation or the place. If I closed my eyes, I'd hear his rasping breaths and picture his mouth gasping out my name.

I'd taken to fucking with my eyes locked wide open just to escape the picture in my head. Amazing how trying to forget only makes it more prevalent. Not that looking into the faces of the men I was with and seeing how what I did was affecting them was a hardship, but it didn't dampen the ache inside either. Oh, during the day I was fine. Being around each other proved surprisingly less tense that I'd expected. We acted as if nothing was different. And nothing was, right? Nothing happened so what's to be awkward about? Only I felt the difference. I felt it in myself whenever the doc was around. I'd disliked him before. After . . . well, loathe would be an apt term. Still . . . he was what Mikey wanted. So put up with him, I did. Didn't mean I had to make it easy on him. Sure as hell wasn't easy on me. Watching them together. Seeing him place his hands on my best friend.

Kissing him.

I'd started walking through those times seeing through a haze of red. But I kept control. I huffed through my brief encounters with David using sarcasm as my best offense. And I made sure that Michael didn't know the difference I'd discovered in myself since our time together.

That being that I wanted him . . . again and all the way. I'm talking the full fuck.

It wasn't a matter of not wanting to love him. We'd loved each other for years. Being in love, though . . . that's something I couldn't think about. Not now. It's not an emotion I trust. Heat, passion, lust . . . those were things I could handle. Situations I could control. But with Mikey . . .

I wasn't ready to leave off what we were to find out what more we could be. Not yet.

Knowing this didn't change the fact that I wanted to hear him scream out my name as I touched him. Tasted him. Took him.

All of this had been swirling through my brain until that night on the turnpike when I stepped up close and saw the love in his eyes. And taste him again, I did. And it was good. Lasting for too short a time before we had to pull back, as I hugged him close and shook my head at Emmett's interruption. I'd had a hard-on for most of the rest of our trip to New York just from the memory of his lips against mine. Fucking Justin roughly in to the sheets hadn't even dulled the desire in me for more. It helped appeased the ache but . . . not enough.

Then came the break between Michael and the Doc. Deb's command performance afterwards . . . and then Mikey's birthday bash.

I had to do it. That's what I told myself. I had to be strong enough to push him out of my life. Or more specifically put, to push me out of his. Who knew that being strong could make you feel so weak?

If I'd thought seeing his face when I closed my eyes was intense before, seeing him ONLY there was complete torment. I couldn't talk to him. Couldn't be around him. For his own good. Not for mine. The separation was . . . I don't have the words. All I'd known and relied on was absent. By my own actions. There were moments when my mind rebelled, telling me that I'd given Michael over to someone who didn't deserve him. How much of a contradiction can one person feel? Not wanting David to have Michael but wanting Michael to have a chance at what I could not provide but the Doc could . . .

I couldn't talk about it to anyone. Kept telling them it was time that we went our separate ways. And all the while a voice in my head was silently screaming in protest. It's not what YOU want. It's not what you need. Only Justin came close to actually getting me to say how I missed Mikey. Telling him it was okay as long as Michael was happy. Hearing him say, "God you must really love him." Feeling my jaw clench at hearing the truth spoken aloud.

My own dreams had turned against me. I'd drift off finally after hours of shifting in the dark, only to see that same blissed out statement on his face. I'd hear him moan and just as he was about to cry out for me . . . the image would change and I'd fine myself staring helplessly at Michael's shocked face. Seeing the hurt, disbelief and misery that I'd caused him on his birthday. It would jerk me out of my unquiet rest and I'd find myself shivering, covered in sweat and reaching for the phone. Only to slump back down onto the bed as I stared away the remaining hours until dawn.

Rough days and evil nights....

But then he found me again. He wasn't supposed to forgive me. He wasn't supposed to come to me. But he did. He came to me in Babylon. And we were friends again. No long talks. No mention of THE night and what I'd done. Just like with that night, our night . . . our dream. Just like our turnpike kiss. Not a word was said. It happened. It didn't. We went on . . . And my dreams turned once more to the memory of him against me in his bed. The nightmares ended but the unease remained as I continued to watch him interact with his "domestic life-partner."

Despite this, my life went back to being mine again. The clouds weren't hanging over me and I fell back into my rhythm. I saw him less, but I did see him. And things continued as they tend to do...

Until my trick with that asshole, Kip. I would never have thought that someone so insignificant to my life could threaten practically my whole existence. He was a danger to my job, my finances . . . my lifestyle. For something I didn't even do. But I'd be damned before I let what he was doing to me affect how Mikey saw me. That's why when Michael came over last night, his arms loaded with food . . . I couldn't let the moment go without telling him the truth.

He was lying against me, both of us on our stomachs on the rug. He'd crawled over my back to press close, huttled together just like we'd done on his bed as teens. Telling me about lying to Doc. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"You're lying to him already? What? He's afraid I'll steal you away from him..." I leaned in towards him only to have him shove a chicken leg in between us.

"Last chicken leg. You're the chicken hawk." Good old Mikey. Deflecting situations that make him nervous with humor. That's always been his defense mechanism. And sarcasm is mine . . . but in that moment I couldn't play into our regular pattern. I wanted him to hear the truth.

"I didn't do what they're saying. I just want you to know that."

"You don't have to explain..." God, that look in his eyes. It was the same one he gave me on the way to NYC. Total acceptance and affection. Then he rolled us over so that I was laying across his body while he talked about our failed attempts at being rock stars. Next thing I knew we were piling into a cab on the way to Woody's with guitars strapped over our shoulders. We'd drank so much by that point that we were stumbling around like idiots. And all the boys there just smirked, shook their heads and helped plug up the amps. Can't say as I blame them. It's not every day you see Brian Kinney and Michael Novotny giving full performance while rolling around on a pool table drinking ourselves into near collapse. After what must have been a couple hours, we couldn't keep our fingers on the strings and the bartender took pity. He called off the show and called us a cab. We left bowing repeatedly to the mob of devotees that were cheering as we practically fell out the door and onto the street.

We crawled into the taxi and I muttered my address as we slumped over each other in a ball of laughter. The driver just sighed heavily and turned up the portable radio he had on his dash to drown out our drunkenness. Once Michael's laughs died down, I realized that I was holding him pulled in close to my chest. He was sprawled over me across the back seat. The guitars where on the floorboards. I could feel the rise and fall of his breathing and the sigh he released as he absently nuzzled against my neck. I buried my hand in his hair and traced the other down the length of his back as I absorbed the feel of him against me.

He chuckled in an ironic sort of tone, shaking his head slightly.

I asked, "What?"

"Listen."

As I tried to focus in on whatever it was he was listening to, the words of an old song drifted back around us. And I couldn't believe it as we heard . . .

"Dream, dream, dream . . . .
When I want you in my arms.
When I want you, and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream

Dream, dream, dream
When I feel blue, in the night
And I need you, to hold me tight
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
any time, night or day
Only trouble is, jeewhiz,
I'm dreaming my life away.

I need you so, that I could die
I love you so, and that is whyDream, dream, dream...."
*** Everly Brothers

I wanted to blame it on the booze, but really what's else could I do . . . seeing him right there before me with that statement in his eyes? Those lyrics echoing through my brain. His mouth opened and lush . . . so close to mine. And his gaze locked with my own...

I kissed him. Like before . . . and yet like never before. It felt like the world had exploded around us and we clung together in the rush of heat, the fire flooding through our veins. I groaned out as he opened for me. Meeting my possession of his lips with equal need, and desperate want. I don't remember how long it lasted, only the taste of him skirting across my tongue. His voice murmuring soft moans between us before we were interrupted by the cabdriver's slamming on breaks outside my building. The motion slammed us up against the back of the front seat and had me crushing Michael uncomfortably against the guitars below.

I yelled out at the shit, "What the fuck? You trying to break our necks?"

"Time for bad little boys to play fuck bunnies in their own beds, not my backseat. Now pay the toll and hit the skids."

Cursing the whole while, I jerked up and out of the cab. Throwing money through the window, I pulled Mikey out along with the guitars. No way was I leaving him there so that asshole could drive him back to . . . Drive him away from me. Not tonight.

"Brian, I need to go . . ."

Interrupting him I leaned in and whispered, "Dream's not over, Mikey." Reaching out I pulled him closer and kissed him again then walked backwards towards my building . . . watching him as he followed me.

We rode up in the elevator in silence. Michael stood pressed against the far wall as I leaned into him. We weren't kissing, just nuzzling . . . breaths getting raspy as I felt his stubbled cheek along mine. Never taking my eyes off his face, I watched as he focused on my mouth . . . staring as I licked my bottom lip, biting it with my teeth. I could feel the warmth of his skin through his cloths. Smell his scent. And felt him move towards me for more . . . reaching for my mouth only to be stopped by the jolt of the elevator coming to a halt at my floor. I grabbed him by the waist of his jeans and propelled him out and towards my door.

Once we were inside, I let the guitar straps slide off my shoulder and took off my coat. Throwing it on the floor, I walked towards my friend. He was standing so still in the center of my loft, his back to me as he stared down at the wreck of opened pizza boxes and paper cartons we'd devoured before leaving for Woody's. I pulled his coat off, feeling him jerk at the renewed contact. Coming to stand completely flush with his back, I leaned my head down to rest against his neck . . . making him shiver as my breath passed over his skin. "Mmmm... Mikey. Say yes . . ."

I didn't have to voice the question. We both knew what I was tempting him in too. I turned my head and began playing with his ear lobe. Taking it between my teeth, pressing down slightly before licking it in apology. He rocked back and moaned his answer. "Yes."

I smiled before saying, "Don't you want me to pinch you and see if it's real?" I liked teasing him. Always had.

He whispered, "You could try."

I reached around his chest to his opposite arm . . . holding him to me as I playfully did just that with the barest of touches. "What do you think now?"

Michael licked his lips before he spoke. Closing his eyes he spoke quietly, "Didn't feel a thing. This must still be a dream."

"Hmm... Come with me then." I started to move towards the platform that held my bed, but he pulled me back by taking my hand. Hoping he hadn't changed his mind, I traced my fingers down the side of his face . . . trailing the tips over his mouth. "Don't think, Mikey. All you need to do is feel..."

And then he smiled at me. God I adore his smile. It always lights up his face, shines through in his dark eyes. "Not thinking is always easy around you." Michael pulled my hand to his chest before continuing, his statement changing to show the depth of his arousal. "Since I'm dreaming, I want it to happen here. With all the lights bright above us."

I stood there with my mouth hanging open at the man before me. "On the rug. While you watch me taking you, yeah?" At his nod, I jerked him forward until we were chest to chest. I growled out his name as he moved in to kiss me. My body reacted strongly to the hunger his tongue called forth from us both. My hard-on was pressing into his stomach as I ran my hands down his back and over his ass. Feeling him do the same, I murmured into the kiss that I'd be right back. "Don't move . . ." kissing him again, "one . . ." teasing him again, "muscle." I pulled back and walked backwards towards the bedroom. Tossing my shirt off behind me, I opened my fly . . . letting him see by the dark hairs that were exposed that I wasn't wearing anything beneath the denim before I turned quickly around to locate what we'd need.

Getting back in record time, I paused at the picture before me. Michael hadn't stayed put. The boxes had been shoved away and he'd knelt on the rug, his head down . . . watching his own hands as they visibly trembled while opening the button at his fly. Hearing me walking towards him, Mikey looked up at me. God, his eyes were like black fire over my skin. The hunger there transformed his face and left me aching for this to continue. Still standing before him, I reached down and jerked his shirt over his head. He didn't waste any time as he pulled my jeans down . . . removing my shoes before shoving them over and off my legs. I made to kneel beside him but his hands locked on my hips as he said, "No. Stay like this. I want to look at you."

Give me strength. If you've never been looked at with complete adoration and desire, then you can't understand how he made me feel in that moment. Like . . . like a king, master and god all together. He traced his hands roughly over my legs, up my thighs and over my ass. Lifting himself forward, he breathed in my scent . . . rubbing his forehead against my dark curls as his hot breathes gasped out to tease my cock. I groaned, "Mikey. Do it." My heads running over his head and through his hair as I guided him down. Then he opened for me and took me in.

"Oh shit. Yeah . . . that's it." The whole experience was this side of unreal. Pleasure so sweet as to be painful coursed through my body and his talented mouth drove me crazy. Hell, who knew he was so fucking orally fixated.... And the sight of him half dressed on his knees . . . my cock thrusting over and through those reddened lips and his eyes closed as he hummed his enjoyment at tasting me. It was almost too much. I moved back suddenly, hearing his sound of disappointment before I fell to my knees and claimed his still opened mouth. I pulled at his nipples . . . loving the feel of them as he gasped, his hands spread out over my back. Pushing him down onto the white shag rug below us, I took off his shoes and virtually tore his jeans away. Seeing his hard cock outlined in the black briefs, I reached out to touch him . . . stroking his length through the fabric. "Brian, come on." His voice sounded strained. Good. Crawling forward over his legs, I pressed my face into his groin . . . mouthing him through the underwear. Listening as he cried out. I love the sounds he makes when he was half out of his head. Those were some of the most tangible of my memories from that night in his bed. He gripped my head fiercely as his hips thrust towards my mouth. Running my tongue along the inside of my cheek in anticipation, I pulled them off his body . . . leaving him bare below me.

"Mikey, you're so fucking hot like this." And he was...beautiful, naked and flushed. Breathing deeply with a slight sheen of sweat over his body. And hard as a rock. I opened his legs and he wantonly spread them wide. No fear or lack of trust at exposing himself to my eyes. I felt my chest tighten and my cock jerk. Lowering my mouth, I finally took him inside me like we both wanted. I traced the length before opening my lips to the head. The way he tasted. So damn good. Moaning as I worked, he moved in and out . . . rushing forth over my tongue as I encouraged him to fuck my mouth. Pulling at his hips, egging him on as he continued to thrust into me . . . enjoying the feel, the sensation of him losing control at my touch. He was panting my name . . . crying it out over and over as his body rushed towards its peak. Grabbing his flailing hands, I redoubled my efforts . . . taking him down completely. He arched up off the floor as he screamed out, jerking against me was his climax hit him full force. Feeling his come in my mouth, swallowing his taste down . . . it was pure heaven.

I cleaned him with my tongue as he lay trembling afterwards. Prowling up his body until I was on all fours above him, I waited for him to open his eyes. He was licking his lips and shaking his head in wonder at how great he felt. I put my hand along his cheek, calling him back silently from the haze. He blindly echoed my touch . . . placing his hand on my face in return. Whispering he said, "Say my name."

I rasped out, "Michael."

He opened his eyes and frowned slightly. "No. Not that one."

I grinned down at him. "Oh yeah. That name." Leaning forward so that he could feel my body pressing down on him . . . my cock so fucking hard against his satiated flesh, before I whispered it at his request. "Mikey."

Still breathing heavily, he smiled so warmly. A very naughty glint in his eyes that I'd never had the pleasure to see before shown forth as he said, "Brian. The dream's not over. I want you. Inside."

Groaning at the words, I kissed him as fiercely as I could. Murmuring into his mouth as he responded to tasting himself on my tongue, I pulled his lower body up against mine so that he lay straddling my thighs. Reaching over I grabbed the tube and wet my fingers. Talking into our kiss, I said, "Now's the time to play, Mikey."

My hand traveled down, pressing over his opening to tease him as he sighed into my mouth. Nipping at his lips, I watched his eyes widen with the first breech of my finger into his hot ass. "So tight. That's gonna feel so fucking good around me." He opened his mouth to speak but I chose that moment to press two fingers into him . . . twisting them . . . finger-fucking him as he gasped out loud. "Look at you, Mikey. My fingers up your ass and your mouth bruised from sucking me, kissing me. You feel that? You feel me inside?" He was pressing down on my hand, begging with his body for more. I pushed in at just the right angle and . . .

"Oh FUCK. Brian, please. I need . . . I want you."

Shaking my head in wonder at actually having him so completely crazy with lust in my arms, I pulled my fingers back. Slightly shaking, my fingers worked blind to sheath my cock . . . stroking the lube along the length. Making sure to use enough not to hurt him cause there was no way I was gonna be able to take it easy once I'd begun to fuck him. Not now . . . Not seeing him like this. And driving myself nuts at the same time. "It's coming. All for you, Mikey. For us."

Pushing down on his shoulders to draw him closer to me, I thrust into him . . . feeling the pressure and the give as he took my cock in one long stroke. "Oh yes. So tight. Mikey, ahhhh."

"Brian. Brian. Yes, please." He arched up against me, bringing my focus back on his face. I waited for an agonizing moment to let him fully adjust to my possession before starting to move. The rhythm never faltered despite the rush of blood beating rapidly through my chest, echoing in my ears. I grabbed him forward, my arms under his back . . . pulling down on his shoulders as I thrust up into him again and again . . . fucking him on and with my cock.

Someone was yelling out curses and praises . . . vaguely I knew it was me. "I'm inside you, Mikey. A part of you. Hmmm. Shit, I'm . . . I feel your heat. Oh yeah, squeeze me like that again. God, you're driving me crazy." We were moving together with deep thrusts. Rough and heart-felt. And so fucking long in coming, one after the other. He was muttering my name like a litany. Like a psalm and I was losing myself in him. He was my world, my touchstone . . . and the cause of the fire that burned my skin from the inside out.

Michael's cock was hard again, pressed between us. The friction of our thrusts pushing it against my stomach. Seeing him so wild, hearing his growls of pleasure as I hit his prostate . . . I reached up and cupped my hands around his head. Looking into his fierce passion-drugged eyes, I made to drive him out of himself. My voice panting out the words in a harsh rasp. "Look at me, Mikey. I'm inside you. Fucking you. I can feel your cock. You feel it too? You're so close. So am I. I'm gonna make you come for me, again. I wanna feel it. Feel you come on my body. Feel you squeeze the juice out of my cock as you scream my name. It's rising up inside of you, Mikey. You feel that? Like I'm feel it . . . feeling you around me. Come on, Mikey. Give in to me. Do it. You know it's just what you need. What I . . . what I want. To wat . . . To watch you co. . . Coming. Again. And a . . . again. Oh fuck."

He was clutching his legs around my back and his hands squeezed down hard on my shoulders, bruising me. I could feel the pressure of each finger in my flesh. Loved the pain. Losing myself . . . my words, until it was all one long sound of need. And then as I watched, he threw back his head, squeezed his eyes close and parted his red mouth to moan out, "Brian," as his body jerked violently . . . his cock exploding between us without having been touched. I couldn't fight the intensity of that vision, the squeeze of his ass as it spasmed around me and the call of my name on his lips.

"Mikey!!! Oh shit.... Awwwwwwww." There aren't enough words to describe the pleasure and the violence with which I came. My consciousness seemed to slam into itself. I yanked Michael against me as I continued to shake and moan. The wave continued to flow over me in a rush and I lay panting as he held me.

When at last the world had quieted and I could breath without feeling my heart in my throat, I lifted up and look at my friend . . . god, my friend . . . in the face. Collapsed back against the stark white rug, his skin slick and flushed . . . eyes closed and mouth open . . . hair a mess and body limp. He'd never looked so . . . radiant. Totally fucked and complete open. Beautiful.

Feeling me shift inside, Michael clutched his legs around my hips tighter. Speaking without opening his eyes he whispered, "Stay. Just for now."

The words . . . the sound of them caused me to move back closer. I liked hearing him sigh as I circled my hips ever so slightly, thrusting a couple more times inside before come to a stop . . . resting in him like he wanted. Like I wanted.

He continued to speak softly, his voice husky from all the yelling. "That was so un-fucking-believable. Totally unreal."

I laughed, liking the way his nipples stayed hard and brushed against my skin as I breathed. "Most dreams are."

He licked his lips as his face took on a more sober statement, eyes still closed and brow furrowed. "Yeah. I guess."

Leaning in to kiss his forehead, I trailed kisses down his face until I laid claim to his mouth. Again he opened to me . . . playing his tongue over mine. I lifted my hands to brush back his tangled hair before I spoke. "That's the best part about dreaming, Mikey. No worries. No guilt. It's always what you make it." Waiting until I'd tasted him once more I said, "What we've made it."

Michael murmured his agreement. He lifted his hands to play with my hair and I rolled my head back into them, liking the sensation of him petting me. I played my fingers gently back and forth over his lips, before pressing them beneath my own. Drawing away slightly I told him, "Open your eyes."

Biting his bottom lip before speaking, he said softly. "What if I do and this all goes away?"

I pressed my forehead against his, the gesture long having been our most repeated act of comfort through the years. "No worries. No fears. I'm with you now, so dream with me a little more." Slowly he looked up at me.

There he was lying beneath me, our bodies still joined and his eyes locked with mine . . . dark fire and that well-loved statement seeing me like no other ever had. I groaned at the heat that look generated, burying my head at his neck as he hugged me close. Stroking his flanks as he eased his legs down, I knew the time had come to separate . . . my cock softening despite my will to stay. Shushing his moan as I did so, "Easy, shhh. Easy." I removed the condom before twining my body against his again. Running my hands over his ass, I listened as he sucked in his breath as my fingers brushed along the cleft. "You okay? We went at it pretty hard there."

He laughed, the hot breath tickling against my throat. "Let's just say that my hangover won't be the only thing I'm feeling tomorrow."

Chuckling at him, I said, "Ah yes, the world-famous Brian Kinney-induced limping shimmy-shuffle." Breaking up completely, he giggled loudly before lifting his head to look at me. We grinned like idiots for a long time before he grew serious again. Lowering his gaze to avoid mine, he asked, "How's this dream gonna end?"

My gut clenched at the question. Taking a minute before answering I asked, "You know those dreams you get just before you drift off into sleeping and that come back to linger right before you wake up each morning? The way they feel. Comforting, easy and endless. You open your eyes to the light, go about your day but no matter what happens good or bad . . . as soon as you close your eyes again, it's there. Like finding a sense of coming home?"

He looked at me with such trust and affection as I watched him nod. "Yeah, it's warm and I never want to open my eyes. Don't want to leave it but I always have too."

Leaning up, I kissed him gently. "But you always come back to it. It's never out of reach, just there to embrace you when you most need the peace it brings." Lifting him up until we sat together, our legs tangled as we faced each other. "That's where we are now, Mikey. Drifting before we open our eyes to the light of day."

Michael traced a hand down my neck and over my chest. "So we can open our eyes, live our lives and when we most need it . . ."

"We'll drift together."

And then he smiled at me and I felt my mouth spreading in a perfect echo of his statement. He whispered, "Drifting's nice, don't you think?"

Pressing our brows together before kissing him again, I answered. "Better than my wildest dreams."

Murmuring against my mouth he asked, "Does that mean I can call you Sandman?"

The words made me break away from the kiss with a laugh. "Only you, Mikey. Only you..."

"Yeah," he said in a low tone, "only me." Pulling back so he could stand, Michael reached for me to follow. "So does the Sandman want to wash my back?" His words hold an edge that didn't mix well with the levity he was trying to portray.

I pulled him against me. "Hey. No doubts. No guilt. And no . . ."

"Worries. Yeah, I know." He hugged me before taking my hand and leading me to the shower. "I have to go back to David's soon." He stopped at the bathroom doorway. "Brian, I . . . "

"Shhh. Mikey. I do too."

Smiling he pulled me after him, whistling a song. And the words flinted across my mind from having heard it on the radio in Deb's kitchen one hot afternoon when me and Mikey were doing our homework from school. It had been the oldies station and I could still hear the lyrics as I moved into his arms . . . the shower reverberating with my laughter, "Mr. Sandman. Bring me a dream...."

Finis.