After several moments of nervous fidgeting, he said, "But I can keep trying."

"You do that, Lindell. I'm counting on you."

The young man turned.

"You can do it," Choate told him softly.

"Yessir," Lindell said, with very little confidence, as he shut the door behind him.

~~~

Standing several feet back from the large painting, Justin again admired the flow of colors and textures flawlessly accentuated by the lighting. When he'd first heard that VC was coming to the states he'd immediately begun making plans on how to get wherever to see the man. When he'd found VC was coming not only to Cascade, but that his artwork would be featured at Bryce's Gallery in Cascade, Justin had nearly lost his mind.

Bryce had promised Justin if he'd help with inventory, he could meet the artist. His recent illness had screwed that up grandly, but he'd be damned if he would be kept from handling the man's works. Who knows, maybe the mysterious artist would come in to view the placements. . .

Justin stood in front of one of two nude paintings. The texture, the style, the skin tones were perfect. It was almost as if. . .

"I'll thank you not to touch that."

At the sharply spoken statement, Justin jumped a foot and spun.

A very tall, dark-haired man stood behind him.

Justin blushed slightly. "It just looked so. . ."

"Surreal? Fake? You don't believe anyone not related to the gods of Olympus could look that good?"

The smaller man bristled. "No! Tangible. Lifelike. As if you could just reach out and. . ." Justin ducked his head.

The older man eyed him oddly for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone had softened somewhat. "And you make it a habit of touching strange naked men, little boy?" he asked, not trying to hide his amusement.

Justin flushed darker. "No." Then added in a whisper, "Paddy wouldn't like that."

The man smiled, at the brat's soft admission, as if it confirmed something. "But you felt you had to touch this one? Whether 'Paddy' approved or not?"

Justin's face grew hotter. "No. I was thinking, how beautiful it was. That I wish I could paint as good as that. That. . ." he looked back at the stranger. "That I'd love to meet him. Talk to him. Have him paint me. . ." the last sentence was spoken in an embarrassed whisper.

"If you paint, why not paint yourself?"

Justin shook his head sadly. "It's a gift for a friend. And he deserves the best. He deserves--" Turning back to the painting, he reached out hesitant fingers until they hovered just above the surface. "--something like this," he said in awe. "Then, maybe Paddy wouldn't. . ." Justin trailed off. "Easier to seek forgiveness, than. . ." He trailed off again with embarrassment.

"Than ask permission," the man finished for him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Justin with an expression the young man knew all too well.

This was a 'top', for certain.

"I'd just like to meet him," young Evers said hurriedly. "Just once. Talk to him for a moment." He turned sad eyes on the stranger. "But that'll never happen."

"Oh?" The knowing smile remained in place. "Why not?"

Justin's body seemed to sing with his excitement. "How? He's a recluse. Didn't you know?"

The stranger shook his head. "Who?"

He found his hands had taken on a life of their own, gesturing through the air as he spoke. "VC. The artist. Nobody here's ever met him. Not even Bryce and he gets to meet everybody."

"Bryce?" the stranger asked, a bit amused by the level of energy his young companion exhibited.

"Daniel Bryce. Have you heard of him?"

The dark-haired stranger nodded. "The owner of this gallery?"

Justin brightened. "Yeah."

"He a friend of yours?"

"Yeah. Good friend. I'm trying to get him to sell it to me."

"Sell what? This painting?"

Young Evers' eyes widened as he froze. "You think VC would sell one of his nudes?" he asked a little breathlessly. "They told me the nudes weren't for sale! I didn't know they were for sale. Bryce didn't say anything. You wait! He knew I wanted one. I didn't know that they were for sale," he repeated. "I thought it was just an exhibition."

The man shook his head, his smile widening. "Yes. He sells his work, but I hear his nudes go for rather steep prices."

Justin frowned. "How steep?"

He cocked his head to the side and studied the young man. "Very steep."

Evers didn't bat an eye as he bit his lip while calculating in his head. He had money left over from last month, and more coming soon. Maybe he could finagle some from Giddy. Or, the emergency money. Put it back before Paddy found out. "I can do steep," he said, with just a hint of doubt.

The tall stranger had been watching the play of emotions run across the expressive young face. He could almost guess each thought as it fluttered in and out of Justin's head.

Justin glanced at his watch. "Sh---," he broke off with a sharp, guilty glimpse at his companion before amending the word to, "oot! I'm sorry. I have to run! It was really nice meeting you. . .um. . ."

He extended his hand. "My name is Cade."

Justin halted long enough to grasp and shake it. "Mr. Cade," he acknowledged as his hand disappeared into the larger one, not one bit surprised when it closed gently around it. "My name is Justin Evers." He tugged lightly and the stranger released him. "I hope to see you again," he said politely as he raced off.

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Evers," the older man said in delight. "I'm sure I'll see you around." Cade stared after him, wondering if brats were the same all over the world.

"Who were you talking to, Vin?"

Cade turned to look down at his imp as he bounced up to stand beside him. "Another brat," he said with a smile.

"Was he cute?" The young man looked up, returning the smile. "Should I be jealous?"

"Hardly. He was too high maintenance for me." Vin draped his arm across his companion's shoulder as his young man sniffed disdainfully at the barb. "I do feel great sympathy for this 'Paddy' person if he's the one who owns him, though. I'd wager he's a handful and a half." He looked down into his companion's face. "What are you up to?"

"I'm looking for Daniel Bryce. I have some questions I want him to answer about his security."

"I'll come with you."

"No, you won't!" the younger man admonished as he stopped him with a hand to his chest. "You're on va-ca-tion, Vincent Cade. You do not work."

Vincent studied his young man for a moment. "Don't get too comfortable giving me orders, little boy." The taller man leaned down and kissed his brat lightly on the lips. Then swatted his bottom. "Go along then and find Bryce. I'll keep myself occupied until lunch."

~~~~

Earlier that morning, young Evers had unwrapped this newest piece by the Gallery's premier artist, with shaking hands. It had been misplaced in shipment, only arriving a few hours ago. When Justin had found the error on the bill of lading, he had immediately called the shippers. He had spent nearly all morning on the phone tracking the crate. Wearing his nerves to a frazzle.

He had thought the others magnificent. This had to be one of VC's finest masterpieces. It was another abstract painting of the same nude. This one even more amazing than the one he'd viewed yesterday.

The artist had softened the lines and blurred the face, but still the raw beauty and sensuousness of his blond model showed plainly through. Justin imagined his image hanging on the wall over Paddy's mantel, or over the bed, his hair loose and flowing. . .

It would be breathtaking.

Suddenly, two men obstructed his view.

"Excuse me," he said loudly to get their attention.

What were they doing?

Justin didn't believe his eyes.

"Excuse me," he said more forcefully this time.

They were taking the picture down!

"What do you think you're doing?"

The older of the two turned to look at him.

"They're moving the painting."

Justin turned to face the new presence. "Excuse me?"

The slender young man stood just a few inches taller than he. A sweep of blond bangs fell over one eye, giving him a 'lost little boy' look. "You say that a lot, don't you?" he said, laughing.

"Excu. . ." Justin's voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying. He turned back to the two men. "Don't touch that painting," he said in his best 'servant ordering' voice.

They froze at the tone.

Justin turned back to face the blond. "Who. Are. You?"

Pointedly ignoring the question, the young man barked at the two hapless workers, "I said, take it down!"

"Touch it, and I'll have your job," Justin snarled, his eyes still on the slender blond.

Now the blond bristled as he turned his attention back to his dark-haired opponent. "On whose authority?"

"Co-owner of this Gallery," Justin answered arrogantly.

"Since when?" the blond asked, equally as imperiously. "Bryce didn't tell me he had a partner."

Justin blinked in astonishment. "Why would he tell you? Who are you anyway?"

Unseen behind them, the two workers had released the painting still hanging on the wall, and begun to back away from the confrontation brewing between the two young men.

"My name is Damien St. Clair," the blond said proudly.

Justin huffed haughtily. "And that means, exactly what to me?" he said with a sneer.

"I'm owner of the gallery sponsoring the featured artist," Damien told him, indicating the painting behind them. "And VC's representative here in the United States, as well as his personal. . .friend."

Justin followed the young man's hand gesture to the portrait, then turned his attention back to Damien, not believing a word he had said. "And he authorized you to move it, because?"

"He didn't have to authorize moving it. I decided to move it myself. This lighting is all wrong. It's too--"

"There's nothing wrong with this lighting!" Justin interrupted in anger. "I picked this spot myself. It sets off the tint and tone with just the right--"

"And your area of expertise is. . .what, again?" Damien scoffed, interrupting Justin's speech.

"A damn sight more than yours. I paint. You're, what again? A personal," Justin sneered the word, "friend to the artist? Expertise on your knees hardly qualifies you--" Justin sentence ended abruptly with the sharp crack of an open palm impacting the flesh of his cheek.

Young Evers stood there, momentarily stunned. This. . .this CREATURE had slapped him. Had actually dared strike him. The anger rose inside him in a red haze, starting at the tips of his fingers, rising up his arms. By the time it had reached his scalp, Justin could hear nothing for the rushing in his ears.

Outraged beyond reason by the useless bit of boytoy before him, Justin rushed forward with a bellow of outrage. The small figure hit Damien in the midsection with all the force of a charging bull, the impact driving the wind from his lungs with a loud 'WHOOF'. The two hit the floor with a solid 'THUD', Justin landing in the center of Damien's chest. The smaller man took advantage of his opponent's momentary distraction to plant a solid fist to Damien's jaw.

Damien blinked in surprise when Justin's body collided with his. Momentarily stunned, he saw stars when the sharp fist connected with his jaw. Shaking off the effects, the blond looked up at the angry face above his, not believing the sequence of events. Confident he had handled himself with restraint, St. Clair was equally as convinced that this little underhanded bastard had just broken all the rules of social protocol. Anger rapidly built inside him.

Then the fight was on.

Vincent Cade rounded the corner of display room three in time to see Damien return Justin's punch. He rocked back on his heels and shook his head to clear it. With an almost animalistic growl, young Evers reached out to tangle his hands in the blond's curls and bounce his head on the floor.

"Bloody hell!" he hissed, wading into the thick of the melee, efficiently separating the two and holding them at arm's length from each other. "What is going on?" he asked with icy calm.

Both young men turned and looked up into his face.

Justin recognized him immediately as the man he'd met yesterday. "He hit me," he said as if that explained everything.

"He hit me!" the blond said at the same time.

"You're a liar!" Justin screamed.

"You're the liar!" Damien turned to the picture, trying desperately to defuse the situation. "Vin! Look what he's done."

"There's nothing wrong with that painting hanging there!" Justin exploded defensively as he lunged at the blond.

"What do you know about paintings? You probably couldn't color in a line drawing with crayon!" Damien screamed, lunging forward also.

Cade easily pulled the farther apart. "Enough."

Although he didn't raise his voice, the authority in that one word cut the argument off cold.

"Do not move from this spot, little boy. Understand me?" Vin told Damien as he released him.

"But--"

"Damien," he said in a tone Justin immediately recognized as level two warning.

"All right," Damien said sullenly, then lapsed into silence.

Vin turned to Justin and released him, but stood between the two. "And you, little boy, where's your keeper?"

Justin gaped at the man a moment, then bristled. "What makes you think I have one?"

Vin cocked his head just a little as he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Even though he didn't say a word, Justin imagined he heard, 'one' as the man counted down his patience. Before he got to 'two' in his mind, Vin recognized the mulish expression as it settled on the young man's face. This brat didn't know him well enough for this form of intimidation to work.

Time for a more direct tactic.

"Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to announce it over the PA system that there's a lost little boy. Give your description, then wait for someone to come claim you?"

Justin paled. "I'm not lost. You wouldn't. I'll find him. Never mind." Justin started in the direction of the alcove.

Vin put out his arm and briefly touched Justin's shoulder to anchor him. "We'll find him."

~~

The Chief Aide had left the Residence early in the hopes to surprise his imp at the Gallery and take him out to lunch.

The big man had just emerged from the men's room when his 'brat' alarm had started going off in his head.

Scanning the room, the large man tried to locate the glossy black braid. Suddenly, he saw his young lover emerge from another room, a tall stranger close behind him.

Justin looked nervous and. . .apprehensive?

The warrior sighed resolutely as he started forward, wondering what his imp had gotten himself into now.

Vincent Cade saw the larger man heading in his direction. Immediately recognizing the expression on his face, he knew he had found this one's partner.

"Is there a problem here?" Choate asked, his soft voice belying his exasperation.

"Yes," Cade said at the very same moment Justin denied it.

"No."

Choate shook his head at the guilty expression on his brat's face, then turned his attention back to the older man. "Patrick Choate." The agent held out his hand.

Vincent took it, shaking it briefly, nodding at the firmness of the grip, returning it in kind. "The name is Cade."

The agent raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"I'm not quite sure. I came in on the tail in of it. Seems this young man and my partner had a . . .disagreement."

Choate noted the redness on the side of Justin's face. "Disagreement?"

"A disagreement that led to a fist fight."

The agent turned a jaundiced eye on his brat.

"It wasn't my fault, Paddy," young Evers said in his defense. "He started it."

Choate looked up at Cade. "Is he hurt?"

Cade shook his head. "He going to have a colorful bruise on his jaw from the punch. But otherwise, he's fine. I'll find out my demon's side of the story."

Choate nodded. "As will I."

The older man was handing him a card. "Damien will be calling you by tomorrow with his apology."

The agent reached in his inside jacket pocket and retrieved his business card holder. Extracting one, he handed it to Cade. "As will Justin."

"Yeah, but, Paddy--"

"Silencio, chiquito. Estás en bastante aprieto ya." Then to Cade, he said, "I look forward to talking to you, then."

Cade noted that young Justin's mouth closed with a snap and that 'mulish' expression settled in place. Taking the man's card, he nodded again and walked away.

"Justin Christopher--" He said when his brat didn't follow immediately.

"But I didn't do anything, Paddy," the young man whined taking vacillating steps forward. "He hit me!"

"Let's go."

"But, Paddy--"

The agent swatted his lover on the bottom.

Justin danced ahead a few step. "But, you aren't listening to me," he whined, stopping again.

"Get in the car, Justin."

"But, Paddy--" he whined again. He danced out of the way of Choate's hand as his lover reached to swat him again. Taking a few more steps towards the car, Justin protested, "He hit me!"

"A stranger just hauled off and hit you, little boy?"

Justin blushed and Choate had his answer. "This is not the way I planned to spend my afternoon," he said softly.

"What?" Justin said with eyes round with shock as he came to a dead stop again.

"Come on," Choate took him by the arm, towing him towards the parking lot.

"What, Paddy?" Justin whined again, even as he followed. "I didn't do anything. I didn't! Paddy, I swear!"

"Don't swear," was all his lover said as he steered him to the Jeep and held the door open.

"But, it was his fault," Justin protested as he climbed inside.

"His fault that your fist impacted him in the face?" Choate asked as he shut it behind his imp.

"But, he hit me FIRST!" Justin retorted loudly so his lover could hear him as he walked around to the driver's side.

The Chief Aide climbed into the seat and shut the door. "And why was that, little boy?" he asked as he buckled his seat belt.

Justin frowned. "I don't know, Paddy," he said softly, taking great interest in buckling his own seat belt.

"Well, when we get home and talk, I'm sure I can help you remember," the agent said softly as he started the engine.

~~~

"He was a foul mouthed little tart!" Damien said hotly.

"So you hit him," his partner asked calmly.

"He said all kinds of horrid things to me." He paused, watching the expression on the older man's face. "See! I knew you wouldn't believe!" he said, his voice rising with frustration. "You never believe me! I don't know why you even bother making me explain," he ended dolorously.

Cade just watched his lover from his perch on the arm of the couch. Damien walked back and forth the length of the room, waving his arms in the air.

"He might look innocent, but looks are deceiving. You should've heard him!" Damien said loudly.

"He insulted you, made you angry, and you hit him."

Throwing his hands up in the air, he asked, "Why do you keep saying that?"

The older man cocked a brow. "Because you hit him?" he said wryly.

"He provoked me, Vin!" Damien said, throwing his arms into the air again.

"You know how I feel about fighting, Day," Cade said calmly.

"But he provoked me!"

"There is no excuse."

"It wasn't my fault," the young man said dismally.

"I don't know who else's fault it could be."

"HIS!" Day screamed.

Vincent Cade turned his gaze fully on his brat. "I didn't just hear you raise you voice to me," he said in a flat tone.

Damien sighed. "I'm sorry, Vin, but you're not listening to me."

"I hear every word you're saying, Day. Come here."

St. Clair's eyes grew wide in surprise. " No, Vin!" he whined.

"I'm not going to repeat myself, little boy."

The young blond shook his head. "You're going to spank me."

Cade waited patiently for what he knew would come next.

Day stomped his foot. "But, that's not fair! It wasn't my fault."

"Damien St. Clair."

"No! You need to LISTEN to me!"

The older man's patience broke as he surged to his feet and made the three steps to reach his brat. "I don't want to hear that word again today," he said sharply.

"No, Vin! Please," Damien pleaded as he backed up a step. "It wasn't my fault!"

Cade shook his head as he reached out and took his brat by the arms. Stepping back, he settled on the couch and pulled him across his lap. "Yes, it is." He popped the button of Damien's pants. "You know how I feel about fighting, Day."

The young blond struggled. "Vin! Please! I couldn't help it!"

"I find that hard to believe." Cade swatted him hard. "We are civilized people. We don't settle disagreements with our fists," he said sharply.

"But--"

"Losing your temper! Getting into a fight. Hurting someone. You could've gotten hurt yourself," Vin told him calmly as he pushed the pants down to mid-thigh.

"Vin! Please! He was saying things," he whimpered as he fought the urge to cover his butt with his hands. "I couldn't let him say those things about me, Vin. About you! It was self-defense," he whimpered.

"Self-defense?" He swatted the cloth-covered bottom hard. "Against WHAT?"

"OWW! Vin!"

SWAT.

"Words can't hurt you." He swatted him again, harder. "What made you think I would ever. . ." a swat for emphasis, "condone fighting!"

"He started it!"

Another swat. "There is no--" SWAT. "Excuse, Damien." SWAT. "None."

SWAT.

"They can't kill you!" SWAT. "They can't inflict physical harm on you." The larger man paused long enough to pull the underwear out of the way.

"Vin!" Day cried out in alarm.

"And, if you don't respect, or even know the other person, what they say or believe. . ." SWAT. "Would not. . . " SWAT. "Should not. . . " SWAT. "Affect you at all."

SWAT.

"I will not-" SWAT. "Tolerate. . ." SWAT. "Fighting." SWAT.

"But, he started it."

Day squirmed. "It wasn't like that."

"Damien. . ." he stopped, sighing again. "I can see I'm not getting through to you, am I?" he asked sadly, then reached over to retrieve the paddle he had placed next to him. "Maybe this will."

Steadying the wiggling young man with a strong arm around the small of his back, he raised the paddle high in the air.

WHACK. WHACK.

"No! No! No! VVIINN!" Damien squealed as he covered his vulnerable ass and tried to move it from the line of fire.

"There's that word again," he said as the paddle cracked against knuckles. "Move that hand."

WHACK.

Day snatched the hands from the hard wood's path and reached out at the leg beneath him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You were right! VVIIIINNNN!"

WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.

The larger man stopped. "Right about what, Day?"

WHACK.

"He made me angry! Yes!"

WHACK. WHACK.

"And?" the other man asked.

WHACK.

"I was trying to prove to him I was in charge!!! VVIIINNNN!"

WHACK.

"And?" the older man asked.

WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.

"I won't fight anymore! No fighting!" he panted between swats. "I'll remember! I'll remember. I promise! VVVVIIIIIIIIINNNNN!! Please!!"

WHACK. WHACK.

"Will you, Damien?" the older man said calmly, the paddle never missing a beat.

WHACK.

"Please! Yes, Vin! I will, Vin! Promise! Ow! OW! Ohhhh!" he sobbed as he frantically clutched at the calf of the nearest leg.

"We've talked about letting strangers and their opinions bother you to the point that you misbehave. I want you to understand that the only person's opinion about you that matters is mine." Cade readjusted his grip on the slender body he held, bringing the bright red bottom higher in the air. "Let's just make certain you understand this time, shall we?"

And he renewed his efforts.

~~~

As they walked into the front door of the Councillor's Residence, the couple bumped into Loren on his to his office.

"Justin. Paddy!" The older man smiled.

"Baba," Justin said softly looking down to study the carpeting.

Choate stood close behind the despondent figure of his young lover even as he addressed his employer. "Councilor."

"I have a meeting with the Cascade's Arts and Literary Council. Care to sit in with me?"

Justin looked up, the hopeful expression on his face, almost comical.

The agent smiled. "Do you need me there, Councilor?"

"Actually, Paddy, no. I'm just being a coward." He laughed. "Thank you for that inside tip on that artist, though. It helped me a great deal with the chairperson. I didn't know she was a fan."

"Glad to be of help, sir." He paused. "If you'll excuse us," he said as he guided the again miserable figure of Justin towards the stairs.

"Yes. Of course. I don't want to be late for a meeting in my own home, do I?" He straightened his tie. "I'll talk to you two later."

And he was gone.

Choate gently, but firmly, steering Justin up to their suite of rooms and shut the door.

"Paddy," Justin whined as soon as his lover turned the lock.

Choate gripped his young lover by the arm and unceremoniously hauled him into the bathroom.

"Paddy, it wasn't my fault," he said as he unsuccessfully tried to halt their progress.

"Whose fault, then, little boy?" the agent asked as he deposited his charge nose first into the corner behind the door and closed it.

"HIS!" Justin shouted.

"Intento otra vez, chiquito," Choate said sternly as he turned to the sink.

"He was putting on airs, Paddy," young Evers protested again as he bounced in aggravation.

Choate reached up over into the pantry. "And you had to put him in his place?"

Justin half-turned. "Yes!"

"How?" When his young lover didn't answer, the agent turned around. "By insulting him?"

"Paddy, it wasn't my fault," he said as he followed him. "Well, maybe I shouldn't have told him he did most of his work on his knees. But, he started the fight!"

The older man turned his full attention on his brat. "You don't think that comment was rude? The one about him on his knees?"

Justin raised his chin defiantly. "No. He made me mad."

"Well, it was rude, little boy," the agent told him, turning his back. "I told you that mouth of yours was going to get you into trouble."

"But, it wasn't my fault!" Justin snapped.

He turned back around. "¡Bastante!" In his hand was the sponge on a stick used in hospital operating rooms. "Venido aquí," he said, reaching for Justin with his free hand.

"What?" Justin asked, eyeing his Marine's hand apprehensively.

"Justin--"

"What?" he demanded, his eyes wide, his hand automatically coming up to grip Choate's and hold it away from him. "What is that?"

"This will not be a fight."

"No."

"I've heard that word enough for one day, little boy." The agent snagged his lover by the back of the neck and drew him closer. "Open."

"What?" Justin asked, his eyes on the object in his partner's hand. "What is that?"

"Soap."

"What?"

"I told you, little boy. You need to watch your mouth. Now I'm going to wash it out for you."

"No."

A brow cocked. "No?"

"Paddy," Justin whined.

"I've reached my limit with you, little boy," he growled.

"Paddy," Justin whimpered, his eyes glistening.

The agent waited patiently. "Keep this up and when I spank you, it'll be with Sadie."

Finally, Justin opened his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed to block out the sight. Choate used his hand to clamp his jaws open while he swished the soapy sponge thoroughly around the inside his lover's mouth.

Justin bucked and gagged, trying to pull away, but found himself caught in the viselike grip.

Releasing him, Choate watched as Justin screwed up his face to spit out the foul taste in his mouth.

"Spit it out and I'll just do it again."

A single tear trailed down Justin's cheek as he looked at his lover with sad eyes.

"Corner."

One last, lost look, and Justin turned his face back to the wall.

Choate took a deep, cleansing breath and waited for the count of twenty.
"Spit now, little boy."

Justin raced to the sink.

"Then rinse." Patrick Choate maintained the outward appearance of calm as he listened to the noises his imp made as he tried to clean the foul taste from his mouth with water.

He was sorry he'd had to do that to his young lover, but one day Justin's mouth would get him into trouble he couldn't get out of. Choate had to find a way to curb his brat's errant tongue before it was too late.

"That's enough," he told him. Opening the bathroom door, Choate walked out into the living quarters and pulled out a sturdy chair. "Come here, little boy," he said softly.

"Nooo," Justin whined.

The agent waited until he drew near before reaching out to pull the small figure across his lap.

Another tear fell as Justin tried frantically to get away. "No more, Paddy."

"You've said 'no' to me too often this evening, little boy," the agent said gruffly as he pulled the pants Justin was wearing down to his knees. The emerald green thong beneath stood out in startling relief to the golden skin of the twin globes to Justin's ass.

"I'm sorry, Paddy."

"What did I tell you about saying 'no' to me?"

Justin whimpered.

"Maybe I should use the soap again," he told the writhing young man across his lap.

"N--" Justin swallowed the word with a moan. "Paddy, I won't do it again."

"Do what again, little boy?"

"Speak before thinking."

"Good. This is for fighting," Choate informed his lover as he swatted Justin's bottom hard.

"OWWWW!" Justin screamed. "But he hit me first!! I was just defending myself!"

The agent spanked the upturned cheeks again. "It never would've happened if you hadn't provoked him." Then, delivered six more hard swats in rapid succession.

"PAAADDDDEEE!!"

SWAT. "I won't tolerate fighting, little boy." SWAT. SWAT.

"Yes! Paddy! Yes!"

Left cheek. Right cheek. Alternating back and forth, breaking the rhythm by striking dead center.

Evers leaped. "Paddy! Oh! Paddy, please! I won't! I won't! I promise! I ppprrroommmisseee!" Justin pleaded between each hard fall of his lover's hand. "Owww, Paddy! No fighting! No more! Won't do it! OWWWW!"

Choate took a moment to readjust his grip on the squirming body across his lap before he started again.

This time, Justin had no breath to form words, and the tears began to fall in as rapid a succession as his lover's hand.

After what seemed like forever, Justin found himself on his knees on the floor at his lover's feet.

Looking up with a lost, hopeless look, young Evers continued to weep with great hitching gasps of air as he stared into the expressionless face above him.

Shaking his head, the agent quickly reached down and took his lover by the shoulders, bringing him up to rest against the solid wall of his chest.

Justin wrapped his arms around his Marine's neck. Holding on tight, he sobbed out promises never to disobey again while pleading that his partner never to stop loving him. Choate soothed him with now gentle caresses while solemnly imparting that he was forgiven and vowing he would always be loved.

~~~

Vincent Cade cradled his sleeping young lover in his lap. As always, he had assured his demon that he still loved him and that would not change no matter how he misbehaved as he listened to Day's teary apologies and promises to do better in the future.

Damien rested on his hip, keeping his flaming bottom from contact with anything. Molding his body into a curve around the warmth of the larger body, he smiled in his sleep, tightening his grip on his partner, the look on his face almost angelic.

~~~

The Chief Aide handed the valet his keys as he stepped from the vehicle onto the curb in front of one of Cascade's more 'trendy' restaurants. The middle of the week and 'late lunch' hour, guaranteed he would miss the crowd. "Hello, Charles," he said to the maitre d'.

The young man smiled back. "Hello, Mr. Choate. Will Mr. Evers be joining you shortly?"

"Not today. But I am expecting a guest. I called ahead for reservations."

Charles looked down at his bookings. "Mr. Cade?"

"Yes."

"He arrived only moments ago. The waiter showed him to your usual table. Is that all right? I can move you. . ."

The agent frowned. "No. That's fine, Charles. Thank you."

~~

Vincent Cade looked up from the menu just as Choate stepped into the same alcove that contained their booth. Obviously, the restaurant had misunderstood the reservation. This was a snug little nook designed for lovers.

"I apologize for the booth," Choate told him. "They thought Justin was meeting me."

Cade smiled. "It is. . .quite cozy."

The Chief Aide frowned. "We could move." Vin smiled. "No. I was teasing a little. This is fine."

Unbuttoning his suit coat, the agent slid into place. "I wasn't aware Justin and I had a . . . reputation," he said wryly.

"Not a bad one, from the looks of this booth. You two must come here often."

The Chief Aide loosened his tie as he looked over at his dinner companion. "Not as often as we'd like, but we manage a few times a month."

"Day loves to eat out, too." He laughed. "I think it must be a 'brat thing'. We have a favorite eatery back in London. It's called the White Crown House."

Choate nodded as he picked up the menu.

Vin inclined his head slightly. "You know it?"

"Yes. They serve a fine beef pot pie."

Now he smiled. "On that we both agree."

The waiter interrupted any further conversation.

After they had given him their order, Vin asked, "Do you get to London much?"

"Some." Choate looked up. "My family lived there."

"Oh? Where?"

"A small shire outside Newcastle."

"I live outside London. Any still there?"

"A cousin. He lives in Manchester," the Chief Aide said quietly. His eyes glazed for a moment as the waitress brought their drinks. Then he blinked and they cleared.

Vin watched his dinner companion for a moment. "I know that area. It's lovely."

Choate nodded as he stirred the scotch/rocks with the swizel stick. "Yes." The agent studied his place setting for a moment. He liked this man. "Do you like Cascade?"

Cade laughed, one hande wrapped comfortably around his drink glass. "It has weather like England."

That made him smile. "Yes. It does. Sometimes I think I'll never get used to it."

"That's what I think about England, sometimes. But I find I'm not a great fan of the States anymore. Been gone too long." Vin watched as Choate because pensive. "What brought you here, Choate?"

He looked up. "My assignment with the Councilor."

"Do you like it?"

Choate smiled again. "It has its good points."

Vin nodded. "He must keep you on your toes."

"Like Baryshnikov," he said with a self-depreciating chuckle.

Both men laughed just as their order was delivered to the table.

They lapsed into companionable silence while eating.

"Are you enjoying the exhibit?" Choate asked finally.

Vin looked up sharply, studying his dinner companion's impassive face for clues to his thoughts. "Yes. I'm a great admirer of the arts."

"My brat has been trying to meet VC for weeks now. It seems everything has conspired to keep him from doing just that."

Vin laid down his fork. "He says he paints."

"Yes."

"Is he good?"

"Yes. Very."

"He doesn't seem to think so."

Choate glanced up. "No, he doesn't. It must be the way of artists? Especially the talented ones."

Vincent Cade turned his full gaze on the man seated across the table from him. "Yes. It is."

The agent returned the assessing gaze with equal intensity, not breaking contact.

"That was a compliment," the artist said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Returning their attention to their meal, they ate in silence for several more moments.

"I apologize for Justin's behavior yesterday. Is Damien all right?" Choate asked.

"Yes. Thank you. I apologize on my brat's behalf, too," Vin said carefully. "And Justin? He's all right?"

The agent nodded, then he looked up. "Nothing permanent," he said solemnly.

Cade glanced up also. "So have I."

Both men took several more forkfuls of food.

Vincent spoke first. "He's okay. We had sort of a rough night, but we got through it."

"Not exactly how I planned to spend my evening, but I didn't have much of a choice. No. Justin has an audacious tongue and a volatile temper. He needs to learn to control both."

Vin smiled. "That sounds like my demon. How long have you been together?"

"Nearly four years."

"Damien and I have been together almost eight." Cade shook his head. "The time passes quickly."

"They keep us young."

"Sometimes, I could argue with you on that point. But, yes. I wouldn't trade a day, good or bad."

"No," Choate agreed wholeheartedly. "Not a day." He paused. "What does Damien do?"

"He owns a gallery back home."

"Justin and Bryce worked hard to get the Gallery ready for the presentation."

"It shows. Your Justin has quite an eye for style. What does he do for a living?"

Choate smiled. "My brat is one of the idle rich. We're working on a career for him. He teaches music right now, part-time in the evenings. And, he's considering buying into the Gallery."

"We didn't know Bryce was planning to sell."

"Not completely. He had some bad luck with stock a while back and hasn't really recovered. Besides, I think managing the Gallery alone is a bit much for him." He paused. "Hopefully, having this responsibility, will keep my brat out of trouble."

Vin laughed. "One can always hope."

"It springs eternal."

Both laughed at this.

The waiter returned and took their empty plates away, asking if they wanted coffee or dessert. Both men declined.

"Again, I want to apologize for Justin's behavior. He knows better."

Cade dismissed the statement with a wave. "No, don't worry about it. Damien knows better, too, and from what I got from our talk, he
started it."

"I don't know. I think they were both to equally to blame."

"They are a handful."

"They are."

Both men stood up.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Choate." Cade held out his hand.

The agent shook it. "Patrick."

Cade nodded. "Vincent."

They released hands. Cade picked up his coat. "Tomorrow's the last day of the showing."

"Yes. I know."

"Is he grounded?"

"No. But he's on a very short leash for a while."

"Bryce is having a private showing after the Gallery closes. If it's all right with you, I'd like to ask him to invite you both. VC won't be there, but it would be a chance for Justin to really see the artist's paintings displayed."

Choate studied Cade a moment. "We'd be honored."

"Say, seven?"

"We'll see you at seven."

~~~

Choate watched his partner bounce nervously around the room, unable to sit comfortably, too nervous to remain still for more than one moment at a time.

He looked exquisite in the black silk suit he'd chosen to wear, the pristine white of the shirt accenting the healthy glow of his skin. Justin had left his hair down. It flowed around his face and shoulders like a shining waterfall.

He looked too beautiful.

"Dulce."

The smaller man stopped in mid-bounce.

"Come here."

Young Evers came forward without hesitation to stand in front of his lover. His sparkling green eyes gazing at the agent questioningly.

"Turn around."

Justin presented his back.

Choate immediately buried his hands in the glorious mass of Justin's hair, his fingers caressing the scalp, thumbs digging into the knot of tension he knew he'd find at the base of his skull.

"Mmmm," was all the young man could say as his lover massaged his neck while caressing his scalp.

"Like?"

"Mmmm."

"Good." He continued his massage for several moments more, until he felt the tension leave his love. Then he took the hair and combed through it to smooth it out, before gathering it into his hands to braid.

"I thought you liked it loose, Paddy?" Justin asked as he bowed his head so his lover could finish.

"You look too good tonight. I don't want to share." The agent took the silver clamp and clubbed the braid tightly against Justin's head. He leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, I'll take it down when we get home." He kissed his second favorite spot on Justin's neck. "And brush it until you go to sleep."

~~~

As they pulled up into the alley behind the Gallery, Justin turned to give the Chief Aide a quizzical look. "Did you forget something?"

Choate opened the door. "No," he replied before stepping out.

"Then, why are we here? I thought we were going to dinner."

"We are," he said as he stepped around and opened Justin's door.

"Where?"

Choate helped his puzzled young lover from the car. "Here."

"There's no restaurant near here, Paddy," Justin told him carefully.

"Humor me, dulce," he told him, placing a gentle kiss on slightly parted lips.

They walked around to the front of the Gallery. He used his key to open the front door.

"Why are the lights still on? What are you up to?"

The agent shook his head as he opened the door and lead Justin inside.

"What are you up to, Patrick Choate?" Justin asked suspiciously.

The agent only placed a hand in the middle of the smaller man's back and guided him inside the building, locking the door behind them.

The foyer was deserted, as Evers expected it to be. Choate continued to guide him past viewing rooms one and two, then beyond three, and four.

"Where are we going?"

Past the doors to the storage room towards the spiral staircase that led to the offices on the second floor.

"Paddy?"

Choate urged his younger companion up the stairs.

Once on the second floor, they walked past the offices, to the large, private viewing room Bryce only used for special customers.

"Paddy," Justin whispered again as he began to drag his heels a bit.

One touch of his lover's hand on his already sore bottom aborted any further resistance from Mr. Evers and speeded him along his way.

As they neared the door, Justin became aware of a myriad of voices.

Choate opened the door upon the room. About fifteen or twenty people milled around. Some talking, some eating from the elegantly spread banquet table against the far wall, some perusing several paintings hanging on the walls or displayed on easels.

Wide green eyes turned fully back upon the Chief Aide.

Choate resisted the urge to kiss the soft 'O' his lover's mouth made. "Sorpresa, dulce," he said tenderly.

Justin turned back to the room.

Most of the faces he recognized from Cascade high-society. Some were art dealers. Some he didn't know.

Off in a corner on the far side of the room, he saw Damien St. Clair standing in front of the nude he'd admired earlier. His partner stood beside him.

"Justin?"

He looked up at Choate.

"I believe you have business to take care of?"

The young man nodded. Squaring his shoulders, he made his way to the couple, eating up the distance with long, purposeful strides.

Choate followed at a comfortable distance.

As he drew near, the couple stopped and turned.

"Justin," Vincent said. "Hello."

"Hello, Mr. Cade. Damien."

Both men stood side by side, elegant in their evening wear, a perfect compliment for each other.

"Patrick," Vincent said as the larger man approached. "Glad you could make it."

"Thank you."

Justin drew a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I was ill-mannered and rude, and I know better."

Vincent inclined his head. "Thank you, Justin. Your apology is accepted." He looked at his own brat.

Damien frowned briefly. "I want to apologize too. I shouldn't have said those things or acted that way. I'm sorry." He held out his hand.

Justin took it and they shook.

"Well, now that that's over, we can enjoy the evening."

~~~

Later that night, Justin lay curled against the heated hardness of his lover's body, his head resting on the broad expanse of chest, being lulled to sleep by the steady heartbeat.

The agent had finished brushing the heavy fall of hair until it crackled from pure energy. He now lay languishing under the warm heaviness of Justin's body. One arm wrapped around him, anchoring him, drawing him closer, the other caressing the silky, smooth flesh of his back.

"Paddy?" came a whisper in the darkness.

The larger man smiled, rubbing his chin and jaw against the fragrant crown of hair beneath him. "I thought you were asleep."

Justin stretched and rose up on his elbows. "I've been thinking."

"Should I be concerned?" his lover asked, soberly.

Justin swatted him lightly on the chest. "Paddy!" he admonished in exasperation.

"Lo siento, dulce. Continúan, por favor."

Young Evers concentrated on the center of the broad chest beneath him for several moments as he collected his thoughts and sheared up his courage. "Would you be upset if I didn't buy into the Gallery?"

Choate frowned and drew the smaller figure up higher on his body so he could see Justin's face. "I thought you wanted this."

"I did."

"What changed your mind?"

"Damien," came the quiet reply.

The agent pursed his lips and scowled. "He said something?"

"No. Actually it was from watching Damien."

"I don't understand."

Justin worried at his lower lip for a long time before quietly asking, "Do you think I'm cut out for an office?"

Choate only smiled.

And Justin frowned. "That's what I thought. But, you would've let me do it anyway?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Pushing his lover's head until it rested in the curve of his shoulder, he said gently, "As much as I want to. I know I can't wrap you in cotton, querido. Sometimes, you have to make your own way."

Justin wrapped his arms around him. "But, you'll be there to catch me when I fall?"

"You won't always fall, little boy."

He rose up once again until he could face Choate. "But you'll be there to catch me?"

"Siempre, querido. No hay cuidado."

Justin smiled and leaned forward to kiss his lover.

"Te gusto."

Choate laughed. "Oh? Muy bien. Porque, te amo," he laughed again as he drew Justin down for a kiss. "Y te quiero." And another kiss. "Y te necesito. Y te tomo. En enfermedad y en salud. Para los ricos o para los pobres. Para mejor o para peor."

Justin smiled, picking up the gist of what what his love said. "Until death do us part?"

The big man leaned down close enough to steal Evers next breath. "Not even then, " he growled, then covered the mouth with his.