“Scrambling through the drifts, Blay rushed over and landed on his knees. Qhuinn was sprawled on the ground, his long, heavy legs stretched out, his upper body in John’s lap.The male just stared at him with those mismatched eyes, unmoving, unspeaking.“Is he paralyzed?” Blay demanded, looking over at John.“Not that I’m aware of,” Qhuinn replied dryly.I think he’s got a concussion, John signed.“I do not—”He went flying off the hood of his car and hit this tree—“I mostly missed the tree—”And I’ve had to hold him down ever since.“Which is pissing me off—”

“Love, after all, was universal. Qhuinn closed his fist up tight, and knew he would never, ever take that ring off. “Always,” Blay murmured. “Because family is an always kind of thing.”

“And what do you know, John's hands flew through the positionsof ASL in various l-got-this combinations."Is he deaf" the guy behind the cash register asked in a stagewhisper. As if someone using American Sign Language was some kindof freak."No. Blind.""Oh."As the man kept staring, Qhuinn wanted to pop him. "You goingto help us out here or what?" "Oh ... yeah. Hey, you got a tattoo on your face." Mr. Observantmoved slowly, like the bar codes on those bags were creating some kind of wind resistance under his laser reader. "Did you know that?"Really. "I wouldn't know."''Are you blind, too?"No filter on this guy. None. "Yeah, I am.""Oh, so that's why your eyes are all weird.""Yeah. That's right."Qhuinn took out a twenty and didn't wait for change-murderwas just a liiiiiittle too tempting. Nodding to John, who was also measuring the dear boy for a shroud, Qhuinn went to walk off."What about your change ?" the man called out."I'm deaf, too. I can't hear you."The guy yelled more loudly, "I'll just keep it then, yeah?""Sounds good," Qhuinn shouted over his shoulder.Idiot was stage-five stupid. Straight up.”

“You're a freak. But I really can't accept these-'Were you raised in a barn? Don't be ruuuuuude, my boy. They're a gift.'Blay shook his head. 'Take them, John. You're just going to lose this argument, and it will save us from the theatrics.'Theatrics?' Qhuinn leaped up and assumed a Roman oratory pose. 'Whither thou knowest thy ass from thy elbow, young scribe?'Blay blushed. 'Come on-'Qhuinn threw himself at Blay, grasping onto the guy's shoulders and hanging his full weight off him. 'Hold me. Your insult has left me breathless. I'm agasp.'Blay grunted and scrambled to keep Qhuinn up off the floor. 'That's agape.'Agasp sounds better.'Blay was trying not to smile, trying not to be delighted, but his eyes were sparkling like sapphires and his cheeks were getting red. With a silent laugh, John sat on one of the locker room benches, shook out his pair of white socks, and pulled them on under his new old jeans. 'You sure, Qhuinn? 'Cause I have a feeling they're going to fit and you might change your mind. Qhuinn abruptly lifted himself off Blay and straightened his clothes with a sharp tug. 'And now you offend my honor.' Facing off at John, he flipped into a fencing stance. Touché.'Blay laughed. 'That's en garde, you damn fool.'Qhuinn shot a look over his shoulder. 'ça va, Brutus?'Et tu?'That would be tutu, I believe, and you can keep the cross-dressing to yourself, ya perv.'Qhuinn flashed a brilliant smile, all twelve kinds of proud for being such an ass. 'Now, put the fuckers on, John, and let's be done with this. Before we have to put Blay in an iron lung.'Try sanitarium.'No, thanks, I had a big lunch.”

“Shit. With Qhuinn looking at him like that, he couldn’t remember his own name. Blaysox? Blacklock? Blabberfox? Who the fuck knew…”

“Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him— “I didn’t know you were a sherry man.” “Huh?" Qhuinn glanced down at what he’d poured himself. Fuck. In the midst of the self-lecture, he’d picked up the wrong bottle. “Oh, you know… I’m good with it.” To prove the point, he tossed back the hooch—and nearly choked as the sweetness hit his throat. He served himself another only so he didn’t look like the kind of idiot who wouldn’t know what he was dishing out into his own glass. Okay, gag. The second was worse than the first. From out of the corner of his eye, he watched Saxton settle in at the table, the brass lamp in front of him casting the most perfect glow over his face. Shiiiiiit, he looked like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad, with his buff-colored tweed jacket and his pointed pocket square and that button-down/sweater vest combo keeping his fucking liver cozy. Meanwhile, Qhuinn was sporting hospital scrubs, bare feet. And sherry.”

“Qhuinn got down on one knee. Just dropped right on to the depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. “I don’t have a ring. I don’t have anything fancy in my mind or on my tongue.” Qhuinn swallowed hard. “I know this is too early, and that it’s out of the blue, but I love you and I want us to—” For once in his life, Blay had to agree with the guy—enough with the fucking talking. With a decisive shift of his body, he leaned down and kissed all that conversation right into silence. Then he pulled back and nodded. “Yes. Yes, absolutely, yes…”