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wincing at how clammy and cool Damon’s skin was. “You need a pill?”
“I don’t know. Nothing will stay down.”
Fuck. Fuck, he helped when he could, but... Joe and Tork did most of the caretaking. He
brought fun and money. “You’ve got pills for the nausea, though, right?”
He went to the cabinet and there were like eight bottles there. He started reading off the
labels. Oh, bingo. Patch for nausea. Perfect. He pulled one out, and Damon was hurling again.
He took the time to scan the directions then put it behind Damon’s ear as instructed. Then
he crouched down again, rubbing Damon’s back.
Damon seemed to almost shrink in on himself even more. “Sorry. I’m okay. Sorry. You
don’t have to deal with this.”
“Sure I do. You need someone to help you.” And he wasn’t useless, damn it. “You want
in the tub with me? Or the shower?”
“The tub maybe?” Damon seemed to relax a little.
“You got it.” Erik started the tub, making it pretty warm—Damon was always cold.
“You and Joe tearing Tork up?” Damon asked.
“Hell, he’s tearing us up. He’s a machine.”
Damon smiled wanly. “He takes care of us all.”
“And we take care of him.”
Erik helped Damon up, helped him get his teeth brushed because he knew barf breath was
lousy, and even more so when it was your own.
Then they got into the tub together, Damon in front of him, back to his chest.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” The way Erik figured it, the only one who had to apologize was the
fucking cancer.
“I hate being sick.” Damon began to shake against him.
Leaning forward, he added more hot water to the tub. “I hate you being sick, too.” He
poured water over Damon, warming them both. “You’re getting better, though, right?”
“The tumor is half the size it was.”
“That’s awesome. Are they going to take it out?” Erik thought surgery on the brain
sounded fucking scary. Of course, so did brain cancer.
“It’s not operable. That would just kill me.”
He tightened his hold on Damon. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. If they cut it out, I wouldn’t make it.”
“I mean don’t talk about being dead.” They had dangerous jobs, all four of them, cancer
was supposed to respect that. “You’ll be right as rain before this year is over.” Erik was holding
Damon to that, too. It was the only way he could cope.
“I hope so. I want to be jogging by the autumn.”
“That would be awesome.”
“Yeah.” Damon smiled, this one a little more real. “That’s my goal. Jogging when the
leaves change.”
“Mmm. I might even run with you.”
“Liar.” Damon leaned back, laughing for him. And that was so much better.
“I might run with you,” Erik insisted. “Once.”
“Maybe. If I’m slow.”
“Oh ho! Sass!” It felt good, hearing it.
“Love you, old man.”
“Old man? Me? I’m the same age as you!” It wasn’t his fault Damon looked younger
than any of them.
Damon chuckled, bald head rubbing against him.
He kissed the top of that head. “Love you, too.”
“I know.” Damon leaned forward, added more hot water.
Erik rubbed Damon’s back. Damon had never been a big guy but man, he’d lost some
weight. Erik could feel every rib, count them. God, he wanted things to go back to normal. So
much it was like a physical ache.
Soon, he told himself. Soon Damon could start to heal.
When Damon leaned back, Erik held the skinny body tightly, closed his eyes and prayed.
Damon brought his hand up, kissed his knuckles, one after another. Even the small kisses felt so
good, knowing Damon was aware, was there.
“I hate that I don’t know how to help you with this, Damon.” He felt so fucking useless.
Joe just seemed to know what to do and Tork was everybody’s mother like always, but he was
just... awkwardly there.
“You do. Who watched all the Matrix movies with me? Even the bad ones?”
“Well, that was easy—it was the Matrix!”
“And who took me on a ride on his Harley when the doctor said I couldn’t go?”
Erik chuckled evilly. “Fuck the man.” Sometimes rules were meant to be broken.
“You know it.”
“I like fucking men after all, at least three in particular,” Erik said, trying to lighten the
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