As always, I would like to express my unending gratitude to Puff and the divine Ms. M. I am thankful to have you two watch my back and help me along both with plots, grammar and moral support.

Then much kudos to my own personal Gemini, living source of reference for my questions and priceless (see I didn't mention the 'c' word).

And, an apple to the Professor who carried me from word one. His praise and gentle. . .um, 'prodding' helped make this story better. He also made certain I relayed every event true to life from a 'tops' POV.

Did I finally get an 'A', teach?

I'd also like to thank Mason-Dixon for permission to use the character of Vincent Cade. I promise to return him none the worse for wear.

And finally, to the Dash, this story is for him and him alone. I hope you like it, P. Smile so I can see them.

In Sickness. . .

Patrick Choate stood in front of the mannequin and tried to picture his little love decked out in the outfit that adorned it. The 'biker' cap that graced the crown of a glossy black wig was a bit much. What he pictured was a thick, shimmering, black braid imprisoned in a leather sleeve Stealth had made him for Christmas. Yes. Just waiting for his fingers to free it.

An inch-wide simple black leather collar accented the neck. The big man smiled as he imagined a silver leash attached to its 'D' ring hanging down the bare chest between the open edges of the leather vest. Justin, kneeling in the center of the bed, hands clasped behind him, head lowered in submission. Waiting. Waiting for him to reach for the leash. For him to 'instruct' him.

Black leather chaps rode low on the doll's hips. The buckle gleamed in its place just beneath the navel, accentuating the silver conches that held the lacings closed at the sides. Laces he could undo with the simple flick of his fingers, or, with his teeth. . .

Between the legs he could see the leather pouch that cupped the 'doll's' bulging genitalia. A thong no doubt, judging from the high cut of the sides peeking through the laces. No more that a scrap of black leather, hardly covering at all. The agent smiled as he envisioned the narrow strip in the back. How it barely hid the dark valley. . .how easily he could. . .

The image of his little love bedecked in this costume sent a hot charge of lust rocketing through him that caused him to pause, trying to draw a breath deep enough to calm himself.

The agent had almost decided, when his cell phone sounded.

Opening it with a sharp flick of his wrist, he said, "Choate."

"Mr. Patrick."

The elderly servant's voice had a hesitant quality about it that made Choate frown in apprehension. "Vincent."

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but, could you come home?"

The agent wasted no time, clicking the phone shut as he turned and hurried towards his car, the outfit forgotten.

~~~

Young Evers lay curled in a tight ball in the center of his bed, full lips forming the perfect pout. Hugged tightly to his chest was the king-sized pillow stolen from the Chief Aide's bed. Big. Firm. He could imagine it was still warm, smelling slightly of a mixture of shaving cream, shampoo, deodorant, and just normal body smells that, all rolled together, meant comfort to him. A scent that said, 'Paddy'. Justin tried to lose himself in that contentment.

He didn't feel well.

After starting to help Daniel Bryce log in new inventory at the Gallery, he'd had to come home early because of a devil of a headache. The world renown artist, VC, an exacting professional who wanted everything in place just so, was scheduled for a showing later that month. Bry said the man planned to check their work. The young Gallery owner promised Justin a meeting with the mysterious artist, in exchange for Evers' services. To his credit, Justin had worked as long as he could. Now he felt hot - hot and sticky, and it hurt to swallow. He wanted a shower but he didn't have the energy to move.

Earlier, Vincent had brought up a tray with freshly squeezed orange juice, Tylenol, and a steaming bowl of one of Yuan's famous soups. The hearty aroma wafting from the vents in the small, personal tureen had almost been enough to make him heave. Afraid of embarrassing himself and just wanting to be alone, Justin had nearly snapped the poor man's head off, but had caught himself just in time and smiled weakly, whispering his thanks. Vincent was only trying to help.

Hours later, the tray still sat on the table, untouched.

Miserable, Justin sank deeper into his agony and gripped the pillow tighter. Where was Paddy? Justin wanted him. He was sick and Paddy wasn't here. Paddy didn't even care. . .

~~

The Marine in question was just coming through the front door. Vincent met him to take his coat.

"Where is he?" Choate asked with a calm he did not feel.

Vincent saw easily through the mask and answered immediately. "In his room, Mr. Patrick."

"Did you call the doctor?"

The older man nodded. "He'll be here shortly," he told him, hanging the Chief Aide's coat in the hall closet.

The Marine paused only a moment at the foot of the stairs to ask, "Has he eaten anything?"

"I brought a tray up to him earlier."

"My bet is he hasn't even touched it," Choate told him as he began his ascent.

"Probably not, sir. I heard him throwing up earlier. It was our hope that he could keep down a clear broth. Yuan made it especially for him."

"Thank you, Vincent. And thank Yuan. I'm sure Justin appreciates it. Any diarrhea?"

The valet shook his head. "I don't know, sir. But I think there is a fever."

"Thank you, Vincent," Choate said again, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Let us know, sir," the older man called up to the retreating form.

~~

Choate quietly opened the door to Justin's room. It didn't take long to find his brat, especially when he knew exactly where to look.

"Dulce?" he said softly as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Justin barely raised his head. "Paddy?" he whimpered piteously.

"Sí, mi corazon." The agent pushed sweaty hair away from a flushed face. His little love was hot, sweaty and (the agent wrinkled his nose) a bit ripe.

"I don't feel well, Paddy," Justin said in a small voice, his head dropping heavily back onto the pillow he held.

"Can you be more specific, dulce?" he asked as he carefully extricated the pillow from the death grip Justin had on it and pulled the small figure to a sitting position. "Start at the top," he instructed, touching cool fingers to a heated brow.

"My head hurts," Justin complained as he leaned into that soothing contact.

The big man touched the glands at either side of Justin's jaw and found them swollen. "Hurts how? Sharp pain? Dull ache?"

"Like there's construction," he whined. "Heavy machinery."

"That bad, querido?" Choate slipped off Justin's shirt. What else?" he asked as he gently eased his love back on the bed.

"I've been throwing up." Justin's color deepened. "Sometimes, I couldn't make it all the way."

He grunted at this obvious bit of news. "Your throat sore?" he asked as he unbuttoned Justin's pants.

"Uh huh." The young man raised his hips so his lover could slip the pants and underwear off.

Choate pulled him upright once more. "Bet your stomach's acting up too," the big man said, more a statement than a question.

Justin nodded. "And I'm hot, Paddy," he whimpered as he leaned forward to lay his head against the broad chest. "And dizzy."

"Come on, little boy." Choate gathered the small figure up in his arms. "Let's get you in the shower."

"I stink, Paddy." Another understatement.

Choate laughed. "I'll take care of you, dulce."

Justin put his arms around the strong neck and snuggled closer. It would be all right now.

~~

They had barely made it to Justin's bath when he started struggling frantically to get down. The agent released him immediately. Once on his feet, Justin wobbled slightly, hesitating as he glanced desperately at the toilet. It only took a second to make a decision. He lifted the lid and sat. . . just in time.

"Dulce--"

Choate found his sentence cut off as a violent eruption of Mount St. Evers drenched him.

Wide, green eyes stared up at the agent in horror for a second before Justin clouded up and rained.

"Oh, Paddy," he wailed miserably as he gulped great mouthfuls of air. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--" and the tears almost seemed to hiss as they streamed down his heated face.

"Shhh, querido. You're sick. Shhh."

"But-but-but, your suit." Small hands rubbed ineffectually at the stains there.

Choate captured both in one of his own and held them still. "It's only a suit, little boy. Calm down."

"Oh, Paddy. Sorry. Useless. Stupid." Then the tears began to fall anew.

The Chief Aide finally gave up trying to still the deluge of water and apologies. Releasing his captive to finish, he reached under the sink. Taking one of the large plastic trash bags from a roll stored there, Choate quickly and efficiently stripped away the suit coat and pants, wadding them into a ball and tossing them into the bag. The agent then used his shirt and underwear to mop up the worst of the mess on the floor. He finished the clean up with a wet towel that joined his clothing in the bag.

Finally, the agent knotted the open end off and flung the bag into a corner, then turned, starting the shower, testing the water temperature several times before he got it to his satisfaction.

When he shifted his full attention to his young love, he found a red-faced Justin flushing with one hand, spraying great clouds of air freshener with the other.

The agent observed the trembling hands, the tear-streaked face, half listening to the steady flow of apologetic words a moment before he took the can from the small hands. "Hush, dulce," he murmured, and pulled him into the stall.

"Still dizzy?" he asked gently as he backed Justin into the spray.

"A little." Justin tilted his face back and let the water rinse the foul taste from his mouth.

"How's the stomach?" Choate asked him as he handed his little love a toothbrush loaded with baking soda.

Justin took it gratefully and turned away to complete the task. "A little better," he said as he began brushing.

Choate took a bottle of herbal shampoo and squeezed a generous amount out into his hands while waiting for young Evers to finish.

The younger man leaned his head back to fill his mouth with shower water for rinsing and stumbled backwards. Choate caught him with slippery hands. "Dulce!"

"I'm all right," he told the solid presence at his back after spitting out the mouthful of water.

Choate set young Evers on his feet, keeping his hands clasped around slender arms until Justin steadied himself. "We should do this later, amor."

"No, Paddy! Please. I was just a little disoriented from putting my head back," Justin whined pathetically. "Please, Paddy. I want to be clean."

The larger man scowled down at him a moment. "I don't want you to fall," he told him somberly.

Justin smiled weakly. "Never, with you here."

The agent shook his head. Surrendering to that smile. "Hold on to the wall, anyway, little boy," he said, turning Justin slowly to face the time behind them. He gave the wet, round ass a light swat before going to work on the heavy fall of hair.

~~~

The doctor stood out in the hall, a slightly disgusted look on his face, a large stain on the front of his shirt from the medicine he had tried to feed his patient earlier.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Hartmann," Choate told him solemnly, adding his apology to the six Justin had uttered only moments before. "Please, let me replace the shirt."

Dr. Hartmann shook his head. "Hazards of the profession, Patrick. As long as I've been treating Justin, I should've recognized the signs and gotten out of the way in time." He pulled out his 'script pad and began writing. Tearing off the square of paper, the doctor handed it to the Chief Aide. "Master Justin has streptococcal pharyngitis."

"Strep?"

The doctor nodded. "A really nasty strain has hit Cascade, piggybacking on an equally nasty flu bug."

"Doxycycline?" Choate glanced at the scrawl. "Liquid and suppositories?" he asked with a slight scowl.

"I want you to use the rectal tonight and tomorrow." This man had ceased amazing the good doctor years ago. "With his stomach the way it is, conventional methods of dosing probably won't work for a while, so I'm giving you both an oral and a rectal prescription. Let's try them for two, maybe three days. By then, I'm hoping we'll have his stomach under control enough to use the liquid or pills again." He gathered up his bag. "I'll be back tomorrow. Call me if you need me."

Choate sighed silently. As much as his brat loved any form of rectal stimuli in lovemaking or foreplay, Justin hated. . .no, that wasn't strong enough a word for it. . .abhorred, despised, loathed, anything else done to him there. "Thank you, doctor."

"Anytime, Patrick."

Mentally bracing himself for a fight, he turned back to the bedroom.

~~

Choate walked back into the room. Justin lay naked under fresh linen, curled into the tight fetal position he favored when alone and in misery, his face still flushed. "How do you feel, dulce?"

"I feel like shit," Justin griped, his voice muffled by the covers.

"Don't curse," he gently reprimanded as he sat on the side of the bed.

Justin pouted. "But, it's how I feel."

The Chief Aide picked up the phone and dialled. "Ralph, I left two prescriptions for Justin outside his room on the hall table, will you get them filled for me? Thank you." He then turned his attention back to the forlorn figure in the bed. "Pick another adjective, little boy," he said in a soft, yet stern, voice as he straightened Justin out on the bed.

Justin frowned, but decided it might be better not to press his luck. "I feel bad, Paddy. Sick, gross, disgusting, vile. . ."

"I'm sorry, dulce." He took the washrag from the bowl of water on the nightstand and wrung it out. "Hopefully, that won't last long," he said as he wiped off Justin's face.

"How long?"

"That's up to you," he told him, dipping the rag and wringing it out again, this time wiping Justin's neck.

"I want to feel better now," he whimpered, the lower lip presenting itself in a tempting pout.

Choate laughed as he wiped the cloth across a smooth chest. "Well, not that fast. Give the medicine a chance to work."

"Don't want to wait. Don't like being sick." Young Evers glared with all the menace of an irritated brat.

Uneffected by the glare, he said, "I know, Justin." Dipping and wringing the cloth again, the Chief Aide wiped off the young man's left arm this time.

"I have things to do," Justin told him irritably as he held his right one out for the same treatment.

Choate shook his head, but obeyed the not so subtle request. "Not now you don't."

"But, I have appointments," Justin told him solemnly as he raised his right leg.

"They can wait." The Chief Aide caught the extended leg with one hand, dipped the cloth with the other, wrung it out, and wiped off the leg.

"But, Paddy. . ."

Choate shook his head. "You will not win this argument, little boy. The safest thing is not to try."

After a moment of contemplation, Justin settled back with a pout and let his lover finish bathing him with the cool cloth.

~~~

"Despiertas, amor."

Justin heard the voice as if submerged in water.

"Dulce. Abras tus ojos."

"Why?" he whimpered as he tried to burrow back into the pillows.

"I need to take your temperature."

"G'way, Paddy," the young man moaned as he turned over onto his stomach.

"I have the adapter for there, little boy," he said, lightly swatting the inviting target.

It took a few seconds for the message to sink in. That brought Justin fully awake.

He covered his ass with both hands and turned onto his side.

Choate stuck the thermometer in young Evers' ear.

"Don't like Marines, Paddy," he mumbled.

"I'd think you'd say that if I used it in the other end."

Justin stuck out his tongue just as the instrument beeped. Once his lover removed it from his ear, he turned back over on his stomach.

The agent checked it and frowned. "Tylenol and antibiotics, now."

"But, I just had them," Justin protested.

"That was four hours ago, dulce." The agent began peeling back the sheet from Justin's butt.

"NO!" he screeched, crawling away and taking the sheet with him as he eyed contents of his lover's other hand. "No. I can take it orally this time."

The agent put the suppositories on the nightstand. "Maybe tomorrow, querido. I want to get enough of this into your system to do some good."

Small hands gripped the covers tightly around him. "No."

"Justin," Choate said, immediately in a level two warning.

"No," he repeated stubbornly. "No more suppositories!"

"Stop this." Choate caught his struggling lover by the ankle and hauled him back to the center of the bed.

"No!" Justin kicked out at the hand that held him prisoner.

"Little boy." Choate caught the other foot and flipped the small body over on its stomach. "This won't take long. Stop."

"No, Paddy." Justin tried to roll back over, but a strong hand pressed down at the small of his back, pinning him in place.

"You're making this harder than it has to be."

"I don't want--"

Justin's angry retort was silenced by a sharp swat on his naked upturned bottom.

The young man stilled immediately. He turned back to his lover, a look of betrayal on his face.

"Another?" Choate asked.

Justin shook his head, a tear tracking down his cheek. "You spanked me."

Choate snorted. "Hardly." He released Justin's ankle to reach for the small jar of Vaseline.

"I'm sick and you spanked me," he whimpered, another tear tracking down his face.

"I would think you'd know the difference between a swat and a spanking, little boy." Efficiently, the Chief Aide parted the cheeks of Justin's ass, lubed him and inserted the two medicinal bullets deep inside. The procedure took six seconds.

"You don't love me anymore," the young man accused with a sullen pout.

"I don't?" Choate asked as he put the lid back on the jar and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. "When did you have that revelation?"

"You don't hold me anymore. All you do is spank me."

"I hold you all the time, Justin. That was just a swat and you deserved it. Now, if you want me to show you a real spanking. . ." Choate reached out.

Young Evers' eyes widened in horror and he shifted away from the big man's hands. "No."

Choate straightened. "You sure now? I wouldn't want you to think I didn't care."

Justin began to cry in earnest. "I've been in this bed for two days, Paddy. I want to get up! Walk around."

"No. Your fever's still too high."

"But the Tylenol. . ."

"And the last time you tried you almost fell on your face."

"I got up too fast," Justin protesting, sobbing wretchedly.

The big man continued, his voice still calm. "And you threw up."

"If you'd stop making me eat when I tell you I'm not hungry," Justin retorted angrily.

The Chief Aide fought a headache from his lover's 'emotional' rollercoster ride. "You have to eat, little boy."

Evers exploded with, "Dammit it to hell! I want to get up! I'm fuckin' tired of this shit--"

Justin found himself across the Chief Aide's knees before he even saw the man move.

"Want to try that scene again?" Choate swatted the naked butt twice, this time harder than before.

Justin began frantic weeping. "No fair!"

"This time without the tantrum, Evers." He spanked the pink bottom again. "And definitely without the language."

"I wanna get up, Paddy!" Justin cried even harder.

"You can do better than that." The raised hand descended again.

Justin cried for a few seconds more. Finally, in a small voice, he asked, "Can I get up, please? Paddy?"

Choate sat the young man up, wrapping him in a blanket. "I'll let you sit in the chair for a while, little boy. But just a while. Tomorrow maybe longer."

"While you hold me?" he asked, using his best angel face.

Choate shook his head. "You know our deal."

The angel vanished and his demon twin took over. "I'm not hungry!"

"You don't have to eat, just drink a glass of fruit juice."

Justin pulled a face. "It'll make me throw up!"

The Chief Aide prayed for strength. "Vincent has popsicles."

The demon scowled. "I'm not a kid!"

Choate only smirked.

Young Evers started crying again. "If you loved me you'd want to hold me."

'Distract him, Mateo,' the agent told himself, 'You're trained in this kind of thing.' "I love you, dulce. I want to hold you." Choate smiled as he leaned in closer and whispered. "I want to do more than hold you, but, right now you're too sick."

Justin blinked helplessly as that baritone speared him, sending the message straight to his loins that he wasn't THAT sick. "Paddy," he whined.

Choate smiled in victory. "Drink a cup of Gatorade for me, brat, and I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

The demon's displeasure showed clearly on his face. "Paddy--"

But the agent held his ground. "That's the deal, little boy."

The demon's glare deepened. "Mean ogre!" he groused.

Choate cunningly upped the ante. "And tonight, I'll rub your back."

Justin's resolved faltered in light of this tantalizing tidbit. Then, he tried for a play of his own. "I'd rather you rubbed my front, Paddy."

Choate had to laugh at the transparent ploy. "Bring me back my angel, and I'll think about it."

Suddenly, an angel smiled brilliantly at him, the demon smirking from his hiding place chased away by the promise of his lover's caress.

~~~

Day four.

Justin felt better. Well, better than he did yesterday. Well enough for an easing of the 'guard'. The Ogre had gone out. Finally. Something official with the Councilor, although, after four days under the restrictive eyeof his Keeper, Justin really didn't care who he went with. Just as long as he was gone for long enough to breathe. Before the Chief Aide had gone, he had made certain his brat took the medicine to ease his stomach so he could eat something.

Choate left his brat in a chair on the balcony wrapped in no less than three blankets. Both Justin and Vincent had strict orders he was to be out there no longer than half an hour. MAXIMUM.

Vincent placed the tray on the table. "Mister Justin? Yuan has made you something light for dinner."

The young man eyed the bowl of soup and points of dry toast. "Aw, Vincent."

The older man smiled. "Mister Patrick says it goes in you this time. The ficus doesn't like soup."

"Can't we just dump the soup and tell him I ate it, Vincent?"

"No, Mister Justin," the older man said patiently.

"You're supposed to be on my side," the smaller informed him with a pout.

"I am, sir. Now, eat it quickly before it gets cold."

Justin stuck his tongue out at the servant, even as he fought to resist the mouth-watering aroma of the thick, creamy tomato soup.

Vincent smiled again. "And you have to take your Tylenol and antibiotic in another hour. Mister Patrick phoned to say he might be a bit later than he expected."

Justin paused in the act of uncovering the tureen. He looked up, a hurt expression on his face. "He didn't want to talk to me?"

"He said he was on the run."

"Typical," Justin mumbled, annoyed. Looking forward to him being gone, and 'him' seemingly enjoying being gone was two different things.

Vincent tucked the blanket more securely around the young man. "I'll be back in a little while, Mister Justin. Enjoy the sun."

"Whatever," Justin muttered grouchily as he reached for his dinner.

~~

He was just swabbing the inside of his bowl with the last of his toast when his cell phone rang.

"Yes, I ate it all," he said into the receiver, his mouth full of food.

"Oh, dear. I'd think you couldn't even get it all in your mouth."

Justin blinked at the phone in surprise. "Bryce?"

The younger man laughed in delight. "Hey, JC! Where have you been hiding?"

"I've been here," Evers told him as he swallowed.

"Well, you ain't been answering your phone. Neither has Gideon. You guys get too good for me, or what?"

"Sorry, Bry. What's up?"

"The inventory. Remember? You promised, and I have to have it finished by tonight."

"Shit, man. . .you're gonna have to get somebody else."

"Don't you think I've tried that when I couldn't reach you? There is no one else, Justin. You want to meet VC, don't you?"

"Bry, dammit! You know how much!"

"Sorry. That was the deal. You help, I introduce." The Gallery's owner waited. "Well?"

Jusint caved. "Give me about thirty minutes, man. I have to sneak out of the house."

~~

Ten minutes later, Vincent peeked into the room to check on his young charge. He found him curled tightly around Mr. Patrick's pillow, sound asleep.

Vincent smiled as he shut the door softly.

Justin waited for the count of twenty before sliding out from under the covers. After adjusting the pillows into the shape of a body, he snatched a shirt off the chair, and slipped from the room.

~~~

Two hours later, Justin made the last scribble on his pad. "Is that all, Bry?" he asked wearily. The room unexpectedly seemed way too hot.

Checking his watch, Evers saw that he was forty-five minutes late for his medicine.

He felt horrible!

"Yeah. Thanks again, JC. I don't know what I would've done without you. The 'Man's' due any minute to check on his stuff. I'll introduce you two, if you can hang a little while longer."

Suddenly, Justin's stomach seemed to clench. He jumped to his feet, racing frantically to the bathroom, arriving just in time to throw up in the sink.

"Paddy's gonna kill me," he whimpered, just as his intestines twisted wickedly.

Justin fumbled frenziedly at the closings of his 501s.

Sweaty fingers refused to cooperate as his bowels moaned and rolled again.

"Shitdamnhell," Justin sniffled as he clawed with sweat slick fingers. He sobbed in helpless frustration the moment he realized he was gonna. . . Oh, please, no. . . "Fuck!"

In that instant, strong hands came up from behind him, undoing his pants with experienced ease. Justin then found himself turned around and deposited on the commode in one smooth move.

"Shit!" Justin gazed up gratefully at his savior even as his face heated in embarrassment.

The Chief Aide to Cascade's Councilor looked grimly down at his pale and sweating young lover as he held Justin's trembling body still.

~~~

The agent's jaw remained tense even after they got into the car.

"I took a cab, Paddy," Justin said meekly as they headed home.

"Vincent would've noticed a cab, little boy."

Young Evers swallowed as he lay his head back on the seat. "I called it from down the street."

"¡Mierda!"

Justin jumped at the explosive expulsion of air that made up that curse.
"I have an explanation," he assured quickly.

"I'm sure you do."

"I made a promise. You are always telling me--"

"Justin," the agent said quietly. "¡Cállate la boca!"

The young man closed his mouth with a snap and curled into a tight ball in the seat.

~~

Once home, the larger man swept Justin up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom.

Kicking the door closed behind them, he deposited his lover on his feet, stripping him bare in a matter of moments.

"In the bed," he said gruffly, sending Justin on his way with a sharp swat to his butt.

Meekly, the young man trudged to the bed. After pulling back the covers, he crawled in.

Choate went into the bathroom, returning shortly with thermometer in hand. The agent stood by the side of the bed and waited patiently.

Justin turned his head submissively so his lover could put it in his ear, and remained still as they waited patiently for it to beep.

The expression on Choate's face made Justin cringe.

Without a word, the larger man reached over and took two suppositories from their bottles.

"Paddy, no!"

"One more word, little boy," the big man's voice was low and ominous, "just one more, and I'll forget you're sick."

Sniffing back tears, Justin turned over and buried his head in the pillows.

"I'm not risking you throwing up your medicine, brat. I want it in your system as soon as possible. You're off schedule enough as it is." Angry as he was, the agent gently inserted the medication. Taking care not to hurt his 'patient'.

Finishing, he wiped his hands on a moist towelette. Turning the smaller man over, Choate leaned down until he loomed over Justin and they were nose-to-nose. "If you move from this bed before I say you can, unless it's to the head or the house is on fire, I'm bringing out Sadie. Understood?"

Justin nodded.

The agent tucked him under the covers. "Go to sleep," he said sharply as he switched off the light. "We'll talk in the morning," the big man growled as he headed for the door.

"Paddy," came a small voice from the darkness.

"What did I just say?" he asked in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Paddy."

"Not now, little boy," Choate told him angrily as he opened the door.

There were tears in the voice that asked, "Are you too mad to hold me?"

The agent hung his head for a moment.

"Please, Paddy," Justin said, just before he started to cry. "Just until I go to sleep."

Choate closed the door and turned back into the room.

He looked like a child. Small, lonely and lost, clutching the covers around him like a shield. The agent shook his head as he sat down on the bed resting his back on the headboard.

As soon as he opened his arms, Justin rushed into the circle of them and dissolved into tears.

"I am so sorry," Justin whimpered as he wept against his lover's chest. "I know I'm too much trouble."

"Not more than I can handle," Choate said softly as he began undoing the tight braid of soft, black hair.

"I know you're gonna get tired of me one day," he said, his weeping becoming frantic as he clung desperately.

"Shhh, dulce. It won't happen," he said tenderly as he lovingly combed his fingers through the fragrant hair.

"You can't say that! You'll find somebody better! Somebody who won't make you crazy, who's not a burden!"

Choate tilted the small head back with a finger hooked under his chin. "You are no burden to me, querido. ¿Entiendas?" He waited until Justin nodded. "I have no probrem with the crazy you make me. I can not imagine what my life would be with out you."

Justin searched the hard lines of the much loved face a moment before nodding again. He settled back into the strong security of those arms with a sigh.

The Chief Aide tried not to think about how sick Justin was as he felt the heat radiating from the small body curled against him. Choate held his love tightly against his chest and soothed his crying with soft reassurances until he felt Justin slip off to sleep.

~~~~~~

The following week, Dr. Hartmann paid them another visit.

"You've made excellent progress, Justin," he said as he put his equipment away.

"I don't know, doctor," Young Evers said, eying his lover nervously. "Are you sure?"

The doctor smiled, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Clean bill of health."

"Thanks, Dr. Hartmann," Choate said, rising to his feet. He showed him to the door. "We appreciate it."

"You take care of this young man," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I intend to," the Chief Aide said as he ushered the man into the hall and shut the door behind him.

"Paddy--"

"Justin." The big man came to stand over him.

"I. . ." Evers gulped.

The agent sat on the edge of the bed.

"You want to hear my explanation?" Justin asked desperately.

"No."

"I don't want you to spank me, Paddy," he whined.

"I wasn't asking you." Choate pulled the small, nude body across his lap.

"I did it because I promised Bryce!"

The first swat stung.

"You say that like it means something to me, little boy," the agent said as his hand delivered swats two, three and four.

Justin had begun to squirm. "I was only gonna be. . .OW, Paddy! Wait, I'm trying to. . .OW! OW!! Paddy!!"

"Kill yourself."

The eighth swat lit a fire.

"No! Argh! Paddy! Ssst! Please!" young Evers pleaded, each thought distracted by a punishing whack.

"Do you know how sick you were?" SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. "No, you couldn't have, or you wouldn't have left this house."

Tears had long since begun to flow.

"Do you know how high your fever was when I got you home?" The aide punctuated every word with a sharp spank. "You obviously didn't care that you even had a fever. Do NOT," this word delivered with the hardest whack of all, "ever leave this house like that again. Do. You. Hear. Me. Little. Boy?" Each word punctuated with a solid smack.

By the question mark, Justin's head was frantically bobbing in affirmation as he wept.

Choate rubbed circles on Justin's back as he watched the color deepen on the blazing flesh of his ass. "You scared me, Justin."

"Sssorry, Paaddy," he sobbed.

The big man lifted and turned Evers until he sat in his lap.

"Waanntted to see VeeCee," he said before burying his face in his lover's shoulder.

Choate's arms came around the crying figure in a strong embrace. "Who?"

"Paaintur."

Choate shook his head. "Was it worth it?"

"Didddn'tt get to," he whimpered. "Got sick instead."

"Aww, dulce," the big man muttered as he rubbed soothing circles on his young lover's back. He made a mental note to find out who this VC person was and get his little love to him even if he had to move the heaven and the earth.