Rafe drove Simon home from the hospital, glad the other man was on the mend even if it meant non-stop complaints about everything from the hospital food to the nurses. It was all whitenoise to him by then anyhow, the somewhat nasal tones washing over him in a familiar fashion. He knew all of Simon’s tones and moods and while the hospital stay had been stressful for the black man on a certain level, he’d needed the rest, too.
Parking the car in the garage, Rafe cautioned, “Let me help you out of the car,” without waiting for Simon’s response. He knew the other thought he was being overprotective and maybe he was, to a certain extent. The car accident had come so damn close to killing Simon that it still gave him the willies to think about. Another six inches closer to the engine and the vehicles could have exploded, killing everyone involved.
Rafe opened the door and helped Simon to his feet. He wisely let the other man use the crutches to get to the elevator on his own while Rafe snagged the captain’s bag from the back seat. He rejoined Simon just as the doors opened.
“I can get the rest of the way on my own, you know,” Simon said pointedly. “It’s just a short walk off the elevator.”
Rafe shrugged and gave him a bland smile. “I don’t mind.”
Simon grumbled under his breath, but didn’t say anything audible as he maneuvered onto the elevator. Rafe hit the sixth floor button and whistled cheerfully as the elevator climbed.
“Anything I should know about going on at work?” Simon finally asked.
Holding his arm across the door once it opened, Rafe answered, “Nope.”
Simon hobbled out and muttered, “That’s helpful.”
“You, are still off-duty for another week until you’re healed up more,” Rafe countered.
Simon glared at him. “I’m going to be back tomorrow.”
Rafe’s jaw clenched at the stubborn tone, but he simply unlocked the door and stepped inside, looking around to make sure no one was waiting. He might not have been a Ranger like Jim, but he took Simon’s safety very seriously.
“Oh, knock it off!” Simon ordered, querulous. “No one’s waiting to kill me.”
Forcing a smile, Rafe replied easily, “You never know, Simon. You’ve had a few disgruntled employees over the years, I bet.”
Simon snorted. “I’m going to bed. You better not be here when I wake up.”
Rafe didn’t bother to answer, just watching as the other man moved slowly towards the master bedroom. It was a nice, two bedroom apartment and decorated in an understated, masculine way. Joan had gotten both Darryl and the house in their divorce settlement, of course, but Rafe felt like the apartment suited Simon more anyhow.
He did leave, but just to go out and buy groceries, pick up prescriptions, and then swing by his own place for his overnight bag, which was already packed. H, Jim, and Joel already knew that he’d be spending the next few days at Simon’s, even if the captain didn’t. It was almost dinner by the time he got back, parking in the garage again, since it would be empty until Simon got a new car. Shouldering his bag, he returned to the apartment to find it still quiet and smiled in satisfaction that the other man was still sleeping.
It didn’t take much effort to make a salad in preparation for dinner. He was grilling burgers when Simon came out of the bedroom on his crutches.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” Simon demanded.
Rafe flashed him a grin and corrected, “Technically it’s ‘here again,’ since I left and came back. And I’m making dinner, unless you think you’ve got the energy to stand up and do it yourself?”
Simon snarled wordlessly at him, changing angles to end at the sofa. The tv clicked on a few seconds later, prompting a grin from Rafe that he was wise enough not to aim Simon’s way. He fixed a plate and brought it out to the other man, setting it on the coffee table before going back to make his own dinner. He also poured a glass of milk and brought out Simon’s meds, placing them blatantly on the coffee table as well.
Simon looked at him and asked, “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far? Okay, I’d be living on takeout the couple weeks, but I usually do anyhow. I’m not what anyone can call a whiz in the kitchen. There’s no need for you to be here, Rafe. I’m going to be fine.”
How to explain just how badly he needed to look after Simon? Rafe had worked for him for the last three years and knew just how poorly the black man took care of himself when injured. Simon was a wonderful man and a great captain, but he sucked at putting himself first. Rafe at last settled on, “I know.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose behind his glasses. “That’s it?”
“Yep,” Rafe confirmed. “Oh, you want any ketchup? I forgot to ask.”
Looking confused more than angry or upset, Simon finally answered, “Sure. I guess. If you’re getting up.”
Rafe smiled at him and petted his thigh before standing to retrieve the ketchup. He tossed over his shoulder, “Take your meds while you’re eating.”
Simon’s response was grumbled and unintelligible, but when Rafe got back, the pills were gone, along with half the burger.
* * * *
It wasn’t as strange as it should have been, living with someone again. It had been over a year since the divorce, but Simon hadn’t dated once in all that time, caught up in work as he always was. He certainly hadn’t invited anyone home in a romantic fashion. And yet, four days later and Rafe showed no signs of leaving. He’d settled easily into Simon’s home as though he’d always been there, as though he belonged. A thought that he tried not to think, since it was only a few more days before the young man would leave.
The strangest thing wasn’t that Rafe fit in so well, although that was damn strange. No, the strangest thing was how their relationship had changed without Simon even realizing it at first. He was used to doing for himself but letting Rafe tell him what to do didn’t even put a blip on his radar. Simon took his medicine when told, rested, watched television and ate everything that Rafe brought him to eat. He only called in to work to see what was going on there when Rafe left to run errands.
His healing leg alternately itched and ached, driving Simon crazy. And when he thought about needing to keep it immobile for another few days, he wanted to get up and walk around out of sheer cussedness. He didn’t, though, because of Rafe’s knowing gaze, the lingering way the younger man kept an eye on him. His voice remained quiet, but firm, right when Simon thought he would go absolutely nuts from boredom.
Thankfully, the third night home, Jim and Blair came over for a visit to distract him. He was relieved to see that Blair really was all right, even though he’d seen the younger man at the hospital.
“Hey, Simon!” Blair exclaimed, holding out a bag of takeout.
Simon groaned in pleasure on smelling the barbeque. “Blair, you are my new favorite person.”
Snickering, Blair protested, “But I thought I was always your favorite person!”
“Yeah, right,” Rafe scoffed, holding a hand down to Simon. “Maybe when you do his paperwork for him.”
Jim added, “Or when you bring in that coffee he likes so much.”
Simon took Rafe’s hand and leaned on him to walk over to the dining area, chuckling at the good-natured banter. He sat with a wince, not even thinking about it when Rafe lifted the cast onto a pillow that had been set on the chair beside him. Dinner passed quickly with lively conversation and lots of teasing with Blair on the affable receiving end.
As they transitioned back to the living room, Rafe said quietly, “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
Aware of Jim and Blair settling down nearby on the sofa, Simon told him, “I can manage.”
“Simon,” Rafe warned.
Grumbling to himself, Simon gave in and put his arm over Rafe’s shoulder. It did make things easier and faster, he argued to himself, not to mention cutting down on the use of the truly uncomfortable crutches.
Neither Blair nor Jim seemed to
think anything of it, being in the middle of a mock-argument when Simon and
Rafe got back and Rafe helped him into the recliner. The rest of the night
passed too quickly as they nominally watched sports, but really caught up on
everything going on at work. Simon felt so out of the loop, it was unbelievable.
By the time
“Okay, time to break this party up,” Rafe announced. “Time for all good captains to get to bed.”
Simon made a face at him, but didn’t argue knowing he would feel better in bed.
Jim roused Blair, though the younger man barely opened his eyes as he leaned on Jim and waved vaguely at Simon and Rafe. It was as he watched Jim guide his slave out of the apartment that Simon suddenly flushed on the thought that he’d been acting a lot like Blair. But then, if I have been, Rafe’s been acting a lot like Jim, only more subtle about everything, he thought, hiding his irritation from the man he leaned on for the walk to his bedroom.
Simon kept his thoughts to himself while Rafe helped him get ready for bed, but couldn’t help analyzing every word and movement the younger man made. By the time Rafe said good night, all Simon could do was grunt in return, too pissed to say anything. He lay in bed for a long time, thoughts going around in circles as he reviewed every part of the last four days that he could remember. It was nearing two in the morning by the time sheer exhaustion pulled him under.
The next day passed unpleasantly, to say the least. Simon refused Rafe’s help on everything. He sniped and snapped at the young man whenever he offered conversation or even made a comment.
It wasn’t until after dinner that Rafe finally seemed to reach his limit. He looked quietly at Simon for a long moment after a particularly harsh insult and then said, “I’m going to get some air.”
Simon opened his mouth to apologize, maybe protest, but held the words back. That was what he’d wanted to achieve, of course. Not just his privacy, but driving Rafe away so that he didn’t have to look at why he’d so blithely accepted all those orders in the first four days. He watched as Rafe grabbed his coat and left the apartment, though he didn’t slam the door.
He wouldn’t, Simon
thought with a sigh. Rafe’s too polite to slam the door.
The apartment felt staggeringly
empty without Rafe in it, just like Simon knew it would. Nothing on tv caught his attention even
though he flipped through all the stations twice. Even with it on as just whitenoise, he couldn’t help thinking about the entire
bizarre situation. Sighing heavily, he thought, Would
it be that bad? Letting someone else take over once in a while?
It wouldn’t and he knew it, but he also knew Rafe. The young man was tenacious and, in his own way, as alpha as Jim was; he was simply quieter about it. He finally called Blair to maybe figure out some things, but Jim answered the phone. Grimacing, he said, “It’s Simon. Is Blair around?”
“He’s transcribing some anthropology thing,” Jim answered. “I can interrupt him, if it’s important?”
Not that important, Simon thought with a sigh. They’d all been trying to get Blair back into his academic mode since the whole fiasco with Ranier. If Jim had finally succeeded, Simon didn’t want to break the flow.
“What did you do?” Jim asked bluntly.
Simon scowled and demanded, “What makes you think I did anything?”
Jim answered, “Because I know you.”
Snorting, Simon pointed out, “You’ve known me six months. You don’t know me that well.”
The silence from the other end was damning.
Simon heaved a sigh. “Fine. I might have…been a little rough on Rafe.”
“Define ‘a little rough,’” Jim ordered.
Before he could take exception to the command, never mind answer it, the door opened and Rafe walked back inside. Simon watched the young man calmly walk over to him and pluck the phone from him, stepping out of reach so he couldn’t grab it back.
“Who’s this? Oh, hi Jim. No, no we’re going to clear things up right now, thanks. Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
There was something in Rafe’s tone that made Simon nervous, though he didn’t know why. Giving the young man a wary look, he said, “I was talking to him.”
“And now I’m talking,” Rafe stated, tossing the phone on the recliner. “You’re injured and in pain, but that’s no excuse for treating me like a doormat. It’s my own fault. I should have made the rules clear when we got here that first day.”
“Rules?” Simon repeated, gaze narrowing.
Rafe nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m in charge here.”
Incredulous, Simon exclaimed, “What? Oh, hell no, you didn’t…”
“Shut. Up.”
Completely taken aback by the icy tone, Simon stopped talking.
Rafe never raised his voice, but his voice was cold enough to give freezer burn as he continued, “This is no longer a democracy. I gave you a chance to figure out things on your own but clearly, that didn’t work. Rule number one is you don’t insult, belittle, or otherwise talk back to me. Rule number two is you stop trying to sneak work when I’m not here. Rule number three is you will take your damn medicine when it’s time to take it, and keep your leg elevated at all times, unless it’s to go to the bathroom or change rooms. No more self-sabotage, Simon. I won’t tolerate it. You did well the first few days before your head started interfering and I want to get you back to that.”
For the first time in a long time, Simon had no idea what to say. He’d never seen this side of Rafe before and it was…compelling, to say the least.
“We’ll work out the rest as we go along but the gist of this is that I’m in charge and you will do what I say. If not, I leave right now and all we ever are from here on out is coworkers. Am I understood?”
Simon swallowed against a dry throat, not sure what to say.
Relenting a little, Rafe told him, “I want what’s best for you, Simon. You have to know that. And you also know that I care deeply for you. I…I want more than being coworkers, but we have to do this my way, or it won’t work.”
“Why? What makes you think anything but this wouldn’t work?”
And by ‘this’ they both knew he was talking about submission; Rafe’s behavior had made that crystal clear.
Rafe half-smiled as he replied almost gently, “Because you think you want to be the top dog, but you really don’t. I respect you and your ambition. I respect your position and your authority. What happens here will never change that, but what happens here has to change. I won’t play second to anyone, not even you, in my personal life. Can you get that? Can you accept it?”
Simon really thought about it, his mind drifting back to those few experiments between himself and Joan so long ago. Before Darryl had been born. He thought about his attraction to strong-willed women and men, though he hadn’t yet acted on any of his attractions to men. He’d been married a long time and faithful to his wife, though many men weren’t. He said slowly, “I understand it, Rafe, but I’m not sure…I’ve never really done this before. I don’t know if I can. You know what they say about old dogs, and I am one.”
Rafe smiled at him and walk closer, sitting on the coffee table to face him. Leaning forward to put his hands on the sofa cushion to either side of the black man’s legs, he said, “I’m really good at training, Simon. Just tell me you want to give this a try and we will. Give me six months of your best effort at being my slave, accepting me as your Master. Six months where you really and truly give this a try, let yourself experience what you know you want to. If at the end of the six months you want to call this off, we will. We can even draw up a contract, if that makes you feel better.”
Simon licked at dry lips as he stared into the other man’s earnest gaze. Six months. Could he do that? Staring into Rafe’s hazel eyes, Simon whispered, “Yes. Six months…that sounds good, Rafe.”
Rafe smiled broadly and corrected, “Call me Master,” before leaning in for a slow, easy kiss.
Simon fell into the kiss without a second thought, opening to the gentle teasing with less problem than he could ever have thought. He vaguely thought, Joan's going to have a fit about this, and then Rafe's tongue licked over his palate and thought fled. When it broke off, he discovered his eyes had closed somewhere along the lines and reopened them. Rafe didn’t look any different and yet, he was. Simon hesitated and then, knowing he had to give this a real try or regret never having done so, cleared his throat and said, “Master.”
Goosebumps broke out all over
at the word and he shivered. Lightening didn't strike, though, and his
ancestors didn't rise up from the grave because the word willingly passed his
lips.
Cupping his face, Rafe’s thumb brushed over Simon’s cheek as he said, “C’mon. Time for meds and bed.”
It was almost anticlimactic, the nightly routine kicking in as it had the other nights. The big difference was at the end. After helping Simon into the bed, Rafe turned off the light and then climbed in beside him. Startled, Simon lay there stiffly, not sure what to expect.
All Rafe did was curl up against him, tugging Simon’s arm over his shoulder as he yawned and said, “Night, Simon. Sleep well.”
Simon’s lips pursed in confusion, but then he snorted softly and grinned in the dark. Stroking a hand over the other man’s back, he mentally laughed at himself for thinking that Rafe would start anything when he’d just got through stating he wanted Simon to finish healing. It felt good to be so close to someone, though, and he relaxed with the extra weight pressed all along him in surprisingly short fashion.
For the first time in a very long time, Simon did sleep well.