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I've got my ticket for the long way 'round
Topic Started: Nov 22 2017, 10:32 PM (46 Views)
Peyton Brooks
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When Peyton had been in the army, there was a certain point that you just stopped carrying, or at least that was how it was for him. When he had been fresh faced and new, he had been worried. He had worried after himself, he had worried about his fellow soldiers, he had worried about his parents, his siblings. But then there had been a strange threshold that he had crossed. It was a startling moment of clarity as he had laid on the ground one day and the sound of gunfire had deafened him. In that moment he had realized he didn't have the energy to worry anymore. He didn't have any <i>time</i> to be worried really. Lying there with dirt getting into his mouth and his heart hammering in his chest, he had thought if this was the day God took him, then it was that day. Nothing would change that. When it was time, it was time. Oh, he was still concerned about people, he still worried after them, but there had still been that threshold that taken all his fear with him. There had been no reason to be afraid. There was a plan out there; Peyton may not have known every detail, but he didn't need to. He was a good man; his family, his friends, and his fellow soldiers were good people. The plan in line for them would be tailored for them. That was just how it was.
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When Marc had come into his life things hadn't overly changed. He had been happy for what felt like the first time in his life. Of course he had rolled his eyes at himself and shook it off and told himself that he had been happy before, that he had been happier other times, but...It was like Marc had given him a purpose. He had been happy before, sure, but this was the first happiness he had shared with another person. This was the first person he had felt like he had clicked with. Peyton had had boyfriends and girlfriends before and they had been nice enough; they had gone on dates and made steps that everyone did in relationships. But none of them had been what he wanted or needed, he was pretty sure. Maybe if he had given them more time, if he had tried harder or if they had done something different, it would have worked. But when he was in the army, people had said they weren't comfortable with a relationship that was put on hold for a year, which Peyton understood. When he had retired from the army and gone into auditing, he had been so...bitter and tired, relationships just wilted. It wasn't fair to expect someone to try and make things work with him when he himself had been in such a dark place. And then there was Marc. Just a kid behind a bar in a small Texan town who had been interested in him. He had been what Peyton had needed and it was perfect.
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Peyton hadn't allowed himself to think about what if something happened to Marc. It wasn't even something that creeped up slowly but surely when he least expected it. He had just been happy and to think that something would happen hurt too much. Maybe that was why something was bound to happen. The worst thing was that everything had been so natural up until that point. It had just been a typical night at work. It had just been a bit busier than usual – a full moon, it made everything crazier. He had said he was going to be late picking Marc up and Marc had said it was fine, he would walk home. Peyton hadn't been comfortable with that, he hadn't liked the idea of Marc walking home ever since he realized that it was something Marc did. That night he had allowed it because there was just no letting up on the workload. He hadn't even had time to check his phone when he had felt it vibrate with a phone call. It had been so busy he had forgotten there even was a phone call. By the time he had remembered, he was all ready home and realizing something was wrong. When he had finally listened to it, he had felt as if <i>he</i> might need to go to the hospital because he had felt his heart shriveling up and his brain cracking. All he had been able to make out was "Marc" and "accident". Peyton hadn't let himself hear more because he knew he had needed to get to Marc's side.
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It had been a drunk driver, the doctors said, had just driven off leaving Marc where he was. He had been lucky that he had at least been nearby enough that people had called an ambulance. They said that Marc was going to make a full recovery, it was just going to be a long one filled with aches and pains and physical therapy down the road. Marc had been lucky, they said, to only have a bunch of broken bones. They had listed a lot of things that <i>could</i> have happened and Peyton was man enough to admit that thinking about it had made him excuse himself so he could throw up. When had he last been so worried that he had thrown up? It had been years ago now. He tried to tell himself that Marc was going to be okay. He told himself that every moment until they released Marc to recover at home; there was only so much they could do in a hospital, they said, and they had needed the beds. He'd recover faster, better, at home anyway. Peyton wasn't going to complain; there was something very primal about how he felt that Marc was better off in the bed they shared than in a bed that a person had probably died in once. That thought comforted him as he lied as carefully as he could on the other side of the bed, watching Marc with intense eyes because Marc didn't look better. The doctors had said he was starting the road to recovery, but Marc still looked like he should have been in the hospital.
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Marc Miller

The worst part about everything was that he had to grudgingly admit that, okay, maybe it wasn't safe to walk home at three in the morning. Then again, he told himself that was stupid. That wasn't the worst part about all of this. Getting hit by a car and breaking bones, needing surgery on his ankle, needing three months of recovery and physical therapy. Waking up in severe pain on the side of the road and having no idea where he was or what had happened was worse. The trip to the hospital, being told he needed surgery, all of those things. That was all worse. He knew that. How could he not know that? But a part of him couldn't help but begin to resent that the one time he just decided to go ahead and walk home was the time that something happened and proved Peyton right. He shouldn't be so petulant about it. After all, it was really such a random chance. He had walked home for over two years before he and Peyton had started dating and even some time into their relationship. It was just pure, terrible, dumb luck that it had even happened. Just the one night that Peyton couldn't get away and the one night he walked rather than ask for a ride or call a cab and that was the one night a drunk was out driving. Peyton was never going to let him walk again and he recognized he was being exceptionally petulant and petty about it. It was the only thing he could focus on, really, to keep his attention away from everything else.

He hardly remembered the accident, at least. He had just been walking, crossing the street and not even that far away from their house. Someone had turned a corner, but they hadn't stopped at all. The next thing he knew he was lying on the sidewalk with no clear knowledge of how he had gotten there. His glasses were completely gone - or at least no one had ever found them to his knowledge - and his phone was a foot or two away, completely broken and shattered. He was all alone at three something in the morning, unable to move and his phone was shattered. If he'd been able to think clearly he probably would have panicked. Luckily for him there had been people who lived on the corner that had still been awake, had heard something and had come to investigate. Otherwise he probably would have been lying there for hours. The rest was an equal blur and he hardly remembered the rush of the hospital. It seemed like one second he was being wheeled in and the next he was waking up in a strange bed in a strange room. They'd told him how close it had been. They'd told him that his ankle might never one hundred percent heal, that he'd be laid up for around three months, that he'd broken his ribs and his pelvis, that he had a concussion and numerous bruises and cuts. Through it all, all he could think of was that Peyton wasn't there. It wasn't even in a blaming sense. He just wanted him there. And in between drifting in and out of sleep he had realized Peyton was there.

He'd been there constantly, even when Marc had told him to go home, to get some rest, to shave and change his clothes. Peyton just kept staying with him most of the time. Maybe he did leave when he drifted off, but Marc thought he didn't, honestly. At least he hadn't needed to stay for too long. A few weeks and then they'd released him to go home because everything else was staying in bed and letting his bones heal and traveling to physical therapy after a month or two of that, of traveling to doctor's appointments. The rest of it was just lying in bed which he could admit was getting very boring. Of course, that was when he was awake. He slept an awful lot. And each time he woke up, Peyton was always there with him. He turned his head a little as he felt the sudden dip in the bed that meant Peyton was on it. He offered up a small smile. "Hey," he said. He knew he looked a mess still. He'd seen himself in a mirror a few times. There were still cuts and a few faded bruises, still the remnants of a black eye. And that was just his face and his arms. Everything looked ten times worse lower, particularly once you hit his ankle.

He was starting to worry about Peyton, honestly. He couldn't be getting much rest or sleep, couldn't be eating enough, couldn't be taking care of himself. He just looked constantly haggard and he was here all the time. Not that he was particularly complaining. He liked spending time with Peyton and he honestly needed the help to do anything because walking was not really something he could do easily or well at the moment. Even just getting out of bed, the rare times that he had to, took far too long. But shouldn't the other man go outside? Shouldn't he be doing something once in awhile rather than just being right here? Then again, maybe he was. Marc did drift a lot. He reached his hand out stiffly to brush over the other man's cheek. "You're startin' to look like someone punched you in both eyes, baby."
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Peyton Brooks
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He felt so physically tired and he didn't think that it was just because of the fact that he hadn't let himself sleep in case Marc had needed him. It was everything. It was his gut being tied up in vicious knots that made eating impossible half the time. It was coming into the bedroom and feeling his heart stopping because Marc didn't look like he was breathing. He had never called himself an alcoholic; when his older brother had brought up the fact that he might have been, he had laughed and said he wasn't. They had looked at the signs themselves and it wasn't like Peyton had matched up with everything. These days...well, these days he might have questioned it. Once, having a drink just signaled the end of a day. He was in a hard line of work, so he needed something to help him relax. It had never been a big deal. Even he could see that he was drinking more. The few times he had let himself out of the house to get food he wasn't going to eat, there was always more alcohol than there was meals. Somehow, the whiskey always ran dry within a few days. He didn't have a problem, he told himself, he just need to relax more than usual. <i>Anyone</i> would need help after finding out that their lover had been hit by a car and they hadn't known about it until they had gotten home that morning.
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Marc shifted as best he could on the bed, turning to look at him and he gave Peyton a small smile. That smile made one of the knots in his gut loosen, relaxing amongst all the others that constricted. He reached out, carefully smoothing back some of the strands of hair. "<b>Hey,</b>" his voice was soft in response to Marc's. Just as gently as he brushed back the hair, he carefully let his hand slide down to cup the younger man's cheek. He could have lost Marc. The knot that had eased laced right back up and more squirmed into existence. He could have <i>lost</i> Marc; Marc could have been further in the street so the car did more damage, no one could have heard the accident, he could have had his neck snapped. Peyton had always been...well, maybe not fine with his own death. He had understood that he was at risk and he had accepted that; he would watch out for himself but he knew there was a plan for him and the day for his death would come only when it was ready. He had accepted that and decided that there was something more important than his own life...he hadn't counted on loving someone as much as he had Marc. Loving people had always been a distant sort of thing; he'd find someone and he'd like them well enough...but Marc? Oh god, he was so in love it hurt...and it hurt thinking that he could be taken away from him.
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He stroked Marc's cheek again and let his hand trail away, uncertain of where to let it settle. Once upon a time, he would have rested it against Marc's neck, around his chest, against his hip, on top of his stomach – any place that felt natural to do it, but now? Now he was worried that even the lightest of touches would hurt him, that they would settle on a too tender of a spot or that maybe it would cause new injuries. He shifted on the bed, adjust himself just enough so that the arm he had been laying on could be held out and rested against Marc's cheek without the feeling that his arm might fall off. He gave a small grin as Marc stiffly brushed his cheek, said it looked like someone punch him in both eyes. "<b>You should see the other guy,</b>" he tried to say lightly. It didn't quite make it. He <i>felt</i> like someone had punched him in his eyes; they felt tender and sore and there was a pain building behind them. He let the grin drop. "<b>I'm fine, sweetie. Just been a bit restless when trying to sleep is all.</b>" He had tried to sleep to keep his schedule on track, but his brain always jarred him awake and he found himself watching, staring at Marc until his body's clock said it was time to be awake. Truthfully he slept better out in the living room while on the chair, but that was usually only after more whiskey than he normally had.
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He pushed that thought away because none of this was about him right now. He could do with a bit of sleepless nights, it wasn't like he had to go back to work any time soon – Texas may not have been the most progressive state, but he had had an in and he could at least get time off to be with his lover because he had been injured. He didn't have anything else going on, what did he need to sleep for anyway? "<b>Do you need anything?</b>" he questioned, "<b>I can go get it for you.</b>" It was a silly thing to mention because he had offered it every single time; it was just a fact now. And it wasn't like Marc could go do whatever he wanted for himself. It was better to offer, he felt, better to make it seem like he just wanted to do it and keep up what normalcy they could.
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Marc Miller

Marc closed his eyes for a brief second or two as Peyton moved to stroke his hair back and then moved his hand down to cup his cheek. The first week or so after the accident, it had been painful to do just about anything, to be touched anywhere. Breathing had hurt, shifting on the bed hurt, there had even been bruises and scrapes that had made his neck or his cheeks or all sorts of random spots touched hurt. That last had faded somewhat, which he was glad for. There were still some spots that were cut up or bruised, but the smaller ones had mostly healed. Peyton could touch his cheek, stroke his hair, could touch a shoulder without jarring Marc into a sudden bit of pain. There were still other things that hurt, and would hurt for a few more weeks or more, but at least some of the pain had faded. He could wish it was the bigger pains but the reason they were bigger pains was the exact reason they still hurt; they were too big to heal in a week or two. He smiled a bit more in response to Peyton's joke and the grin, but there was a worry behind that joke and a worry in his own mind. He didn't mind Peyton being so attentive - loved it, really - but he worried about the other man nonetheless. Those dark circles were quite prominent and Marc couldn't remember waking up and seeing him sleeping. He was always there, watching him, reading, doing something but he was always there. He stroked his fingers over Peyton's cheek again lightly before he pulled his hand back. "You need to get some rest, too, you know." Another small smile flitted over his lips as he looked at Peyton. "After all, I know I run you ragged with all my demands." Truthfully, he didn't and they both knew it. Marc might not quite be a model patient but he was close enough. He hardly asked for anything and he didn't get all touchy about his pride and people trying to help him. Maybe once in awhile he didn't voice how much he might be hurting, but that was a common enough thing - or so Peyton claimed anyways. Marc was more likely to come up with fake things than complain about something that was actually bothering him, or so said the older man.

He gave a small sigh as Peyton changed the subject, asking if he needed anything. What he needed was to be healthy again, to be healed up. That wasn't happening anytime soon though and it drove him crazy. Once James had visited with his wife, once Gabi had visited, once they had gone home and he had gotten out of the hospital there was... nothing much. That wasn't to say he was bored with Peyton. He selfishly enjoyed having Peyton with him almost constantly. They'd always had time together, of course, with the way that their schedules worked together but it had still been interrupted by their work schedules. Now he had Peyton with him almost all of the time and he liked that. But he was still bored. It wasn't even that he was an insanely active person. Sure, he liked going out shopping or doing this or that with Peyton. He liked visiting friends back in Tulia. But he was used to his routine. He was used to cooking for Peyton, used to curling up on the couch and watching movies together, used to sitting down for a few hours at his computer and playing video games or chatting with someone. About all he could do right now was text his friends, read a book or lie on the couch and watch a movie. If he was propped up, he could sit up but the constant moving about to get out to the living room, to sit up, to lie down, to move back to the bedroom put a lot of strain on his pelvis and wore him out. He certainly couldn't sit in the chair in front of his desktop and game the way he was used to. "I don't need anything, baby," he told the other man after a few moments.

Marc gave another sigh and let his head rest back against the pillow that had been propped up for him for a moment, just staring at nothing in particular. "I guess I'm just bored. I mean, not like I do a lot anyways but, you know. I had my routines and there are only so many times you can read books or watch movies before you just get bored." It wasn't that he didn't enjoy those activities. It was just that they were very limiting. Even if you enjoyed a marathon of a TV show or watching a bunch of movies or reading books you always intended to catch up on it still got old after awhile. At least video games kept you engrossed. For hours on end if they were the right kind. But he couldn't even really do that for any length of time with how uncomfortable he got sitting up in a chair right now. He moved his hand up to brush his hair out of his face before he let it flop back down over his forehead. "I was just used to going to work and then coming home and playing a game and then making you a meal. Then going to sleep and waking up and making us lunch and maybe playing a game with Gabi if she was home. Now it's just like... " He brought his hand up in a gesture before he let it drop down. He turned his head a little and smiled at Peyton. "I'd probably go crazy if I didn't have you to talk to."
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Peyton Brooks
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Peyton didn't like the worry on Marc's face, though it was only slightly better than the subtle lines of pain around Marc's face that said it hurt for Marc to exist. The younger man should be focusing on getting better, not on Peyton. But then again, he supposed if he was the one hurt, he'd worry about Marc running himself into the ground, trying to do too much. He couldn't even say it was different, though. He let his eyes close as Marc stroked his cheek and then pulled his hand away. "<b>I do,</B>" he assured. It wasn't a lie. He got some sleep when he was sitting on the couch in the living room or a chair in the kitchen, it just wasn't the right amount of rest. He had wondered if he should go in for those sleep aids or melatonin or whatever people were selling, but it always seemed like a bad idea. For one thing, what if Marc needed him and he was conked out on meds? Marc might try to do something they both regretted. And though all of the pills warned that their stuff wasn't habit forming, he tried to avoid pills just because they made it too easy to keep taking them. "<b>Ugh, it's just the worst,</b>" he said with his most deadpan voice, "<b>All those demands to...you know, rest a bit more or grab you a book or what have you. What is a man suppose to do?</b>" he moved in carefully, gently leaning in so he could press his lips to Marc's. He would do anything for Marc at the best of times, if Marc asked right now for him to walk across hot coals, Peyton would only ask if he wanted him to have his shoes on or off.
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The sigh hurt, not because he felt like it was a dismissal or something, but because it sounded so...sad. So put upon. Peyton didn't like it because it was a sigh of Marc being unhappy. And even when he said he didn't need anything, it hurt. Not because he thought that randomly this one new thing Marc wanted would make everything better, but...Peyton wanted to do something. He needed to do something. Anything to at least make Marc feel a little bit better. Peyton's father would say he had always been like that; he was always a golden retriever that bounded around its chosen person in an effort to make the person happy. He didn't want an easy fix, he knew things weren't always an easy fix, but he wanted to make things better. "<b>Do you want a new cat?</b>" he blurted out finally. "<b>I can get you a new cat. It would take me five minutes tops.</b>" All right, so that might have been a bit much. They all ready had a cat and a dog and they had said that would probably be enough. But then on the other hand, cats were fine with being left alone in the middle of the night; dogs, not so much depending on the breed. If he got Marc another cat, then he'd have at least two that would curl up with him and reduce his stress. That was what the counselor had said when Peyton had decided to be done with the army. Maybe invest in a pet; just because he hadn't experience the same grief that a lot of soldiers had didn't mean he wouldn't benefit from a pet. A cat or dog to pet and play with and love on. Surely Marc was happy with one, but <i>two</i> would be even better.
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But then Marc spoke, saying he was bored. Peyton could understand that. There had been a few times that he had been laid up in the hospital because of injuries and there had been that. When he wasn't sleeping, he was left staring at a ceiling. It didn't exactly help the recovery process at all. It hurt to see Marc dealing with that. He braced his hand against the younger man's face, gently but firmly so not to hurt him, and leaned in to press multiple, gentle kisses against his lips. "<b>And I'm always going to be here to talk to,</b>" he said with more determination than was probably necessary. He would make sure of it, he would make it so he was only ever gone from Marc's side when Marc was asleep and even then they would be short little trips. He would extend his leave, if he had to. He would make sure that Marc was taken care of. "<b>I'll make sure you at least have that.</b>" But that wasn't enough, he felt. That wasn't much. There was only so much they could talk about, Marc would get bored of <i>him</i> and then it would probably set his recovery back <i>more</i>. Granted, Peyton didn't know if it was an actual science behind the idea that the more bored and sad you were, the longer recovery took.
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And that was when he remembered. "<b>Wait, I might have a cure for this.</b>" He got up from the bed, making his way to the closet that Marc never really poked his nose too far into. "<b>I was planning to give this to you on your birthday, but I can find something else for then.</b>" He had gotten early because he hadn't wanted to forget that it was what he wanted to get Marc for a present. Then he had promptly tucked it under a handful of other things and let himself forget it was there. He pulled it out, carefully adjusting himself back. The laptop still looked kind of like every other laptop Peyton had ever seen, maybe a bit fancier, but he had seen the performance of it and it had been one Marc had practically sighed dreamily over. "<b>I may not be the best at understanding how good computers are, but...I followed all the check points you had on your dream laptop.</b>" He brought it over, setting it carefully on the bed next to Marc.
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Marc Miller

"You need to rest more," Marc told him as Peyton told him that he got rest. Marc was sure he got some rest, simply because it was impossible for the human body to function off none at all. But the dark circles under his eyes and the slight haggardness to Peyton's appearance spoke volumes. He might be getting rest but it was nowhere near as much as his body needed. And he knew it, too. Marc knew Peyton well enough by now considering the time that they'd been together and the fact that they were married. Peyton was not the type to just sit idly by and relax when someone important to him was hurt. James and Gabi both had mentioned how he had hardly left the hospital or laid down to rest, even when the both of them (and Rosemary, too) had said they would watch Marc for a bit so that Peyton could go rest and have a little bit of time to himself. The most Peyton had done was curl up in a chair and nap for a short while or gone down to get some lunch from the hospital cafeteria. He hadn't been taking near enough time for himself and it worried Marc. But Marc also knew Peyton wasn't going to stop doing it, either. Just like Marc would do the same if Peyton was this horribly injured. "See? I told you, you need a rest from all those demands." He kissed Peyton back softly, closing his eyes for the moment and just enjoying the kiss. They hadn't done this much since the accident. For awhile doing anything other than sleeping had been a bit much for him. Then Peyton had been worried about hurting him. It felt good to be like this, to do this; it felt more normal.

For a moment he just let himself sink into his thoughts. He wasn't depressed, though everyone seemed to think that the injury was going to affect him in that way. He could see how, but at the same time, he was lucky. It wasn't a lifetime thing. Yes, his ankle was probably never going to be a hundred percent. Yes, he might get sore in the winter or might possibly have complications later in his life. Equally, though, he might not and things could have been so much worse. He could be dead, he could be paralyzed, he could have brain damage, he could be in a coma, he could have lost limbs or have any other number of major, life-changing problems. Potential problems later in life and an ankle that might not always hold up to strain? That was pretty damn lucky all things considered. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Peyton blurting out the last thing he expected to hear from him. He turned his gaze to Peyton and just blinked for a minute, staring at the older man. Then he gave a laugh that made his ribs hurt but he couldn't help it. "Baby, no, I don't need another cat... it's tempting, though, so you better back out before I make you go get one in five minutes flat." A cat and a dog were more than enough, after all. Snickers probably wouldn't care, but he didn't think his cat would be too pleased with a new arrival. Besides, Marc was laid up at the moment. He couldn't help with a new cat and any tiffs that might happen between a new cat and their current pets. Definitely not a good time to introduce a new animal to the mix. "Though what were you going to do? Just grab the first cat you saw off the street?" he teased lightly.

Marc moved his own hand up to rest against Peyton's cheek lightly as the other man promised that he would be there, as he leaned in to press soft, quick, gentle kisses against Marc's lips. "I know, baby." He didn't bother to say the things that popped into his head, because they wouldn't contribute to the mood at all. The thoughts that Peyton could be taken away from him. The thoughts that Peyton had to sleep sometime. He couldn't always be here. Eventually he was going to have to go back to work. That would probably be a fight and a half, honestly. Marc... honestly didn't mind Peyton here all the time. He didn't mind Peyton watching out for him, taking care of him, protecting him.He liked it. But they had bills to pay and even if insurance ended up covering things, even if lawsuits covered them, there were still bills to pay, groceries to buy, things that they needed money for. They wouldn't be living off anything form the accident for the rest of their days, that was for sure. They might get a comfortable nest egg, some extra money to make life easier, but they'd still need money from the both of their jobs to make sure things stayed that way. He blinked as Peyton spoke again, saying that he might have a cure for this then sliding off of the bed. "What?" he spoke and then perked up as Peyton said he was thinking of giving him something for his birthday but he'd give it to him now, that he'd get him something else later. He almost squirmed when Peyton kept his back to him for the time being, kept things hidden from him. Then the older man walked closer and set something down beside him. "Oh my God! Oh my God, baby! Baby, are you crazy?! Do you know how much that costs - of course you did because you bought it. Oh my God, Pey!" Marc was simultaneously thrilled and blown away while being a bit... not worried, but God, that was so much money. That was so much money spent on him and shouldn't they be saving? He reached out to almost reverently touch the box, running his fingers over it for a few seconds. "When I'm better you are going to get the best sex ever as thanks, I hope you know."
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Peyton Brooks
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He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Marc's forehead. "<b>You gotta stop worrying about me, baby. I'm okay. I'm taking care of you, remember?</b>" It had been one of the things that Marc had muttered about so constantly, just that he was suppose to be taking care of Peyton. He had been. Thanks to Marc, laundry got done on time, dishes were never more than a few in a sink at a time, meals were prompt and not as ramshackle as Peyton had made them...he was pretty sure even vacuuming was getting done, a task he left on the way side for so long. He took care of Peyton and Peyton figured it was his turn. More than that, he <i>wanted</i> to take care of Marc. It helped soothe the worry and the strife he had because he hadn't been there. He hadn't been there to pick Marc up, he had chosen that day of all days to let Marc walk home. So what if Peyton didn't get enough sleep right now? He was on leave to take care of Marc specifically. He would get a full night of rest when he was about to go back, he told himself. Right now, he had to be ready. Right now, he could keep surviving on coffee. "<b>I don't know how I manage to keep it together with such a hard taskmaster.</b>" He did another quick kiss, followed by another because he <i>could</i> now. "<b>I think maybe because the taskmaster is pretty cute.</b>" It felt like things were beginning to balance out, that meant that Marc would be better in no time, didn't it? He was young, he would heal faster than Peyton did.
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Peyton wished he hadn't offered up a cat. He didn't hate cats, but he had always been more of a dog person. Add to it they didn't really need more than Harris and Snickers, but...if it would make Marc happy, he would have done it. He would have done it in a heartbeat and never regretted it because he would look at that damn cat and know it had been the cat to get Marc through one of the roughest patches of his life. But Marc just laughed and said no. "<b>I would,</B>" he said seriously. "<b>I would go get you one.</b>" He would get ten. He would get so many that they'd cover the entire damn bed. Just to make it so Marc had a little more comfort, a little more...fun in this time. Marc liked cats, so he didn't see why it would be a problem. "<b>That was how me and Dalton got our cat when I was six. We were outside and there was a cat that kept hanging around. It lived in our garage I think. Then winter came and we took it inside. It worked out for us for ten years.</b>" He had started it, his older brother had said, Peyton had been the one to frown and say Mister Kitty was going to freeze. They had brought the cat in and hidden it for two whole days before their dad had realized that there was a cat scampering about. They'd been lucky they hadn't gotten in more trouble. Especially when mom had gotten home and realized how fast dad had caved into their demands.
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When Marc touched his cheek, Peyton couldn't resist lifting his own hand to place over it. Just the barest of touches, just to keep it there for a moment longer because he didn't know what he would do if he could never feel that touch again. "<b>So long as you know.</b>" IT wouldn't fix anything, he knew that. He knew that the only thing that would fix this was time and rest and taking it easy even when Marc was better. The only thing that would fix this was to...keep living their lives. Peyton had been rattled. He had been since the day he had come home and seen no Marc, had gotten a <i>voice mail</i> about him. It had reminded him they didn't have forever. It wasn't even that Peyton was in a dangerous line of work. Plainview was quieter than Chicago ever would be, but there was crime. There were people that thought they were big shots and didn't know how to handle a gun properly. It would have been one thing if it were just that, but...it was shit like this. Marc just walking home after work, Peyton just doing a misstep at the top of a flight of stairs, Marc telling the wrong drunk it was time to go home. So many stupid little things that didn't add up to a lot but could. It wasn't something he was comfortable with in the slightest.
<p>
He almost thought he was going to have a moment to worry that maybe Marc's tastes had changed in the last few months, that something new and more advanced had come up. But then Marc burst out with energetic words. He snorted, lifting a hand to smooth back his hair a small bit. "<b>I'm crazy for you,</b>" he offered in a tease. A moment later, he fidgeted a little. "<b>It's the right one, right? I tried to follow most of what you said you wanted in a computer but...computers aren't my thing. So long as it runs, I'm happy.</b>" He watched Marc and it made his heart stop hurting so much. It made things a little easier. He sat back on the edge of the bed, watching Marc watch the box as if it would somehow disappear. "<b>I won't turn it down, but I don't need sex as thanks, Marc,</b>" he laughed softly. "<b>But now you can at least game when you're feeling up to it and when you go visit Gabi you two can chat that way. And don't say you wouldn't do it. You're both dorks enough you would.</b>"
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Marc Miller

"Baby, if our situations were reversed would you stop worrying about me?" Marc would hope not, because he knew he would run himself into the ground. He knew that Peyton would be telling him to get some rest and Marc would be the one continuously saying that he was fine, he was okay, that he wanted Peyton to worry about himself and not about him. He had done it before, honestly, when Peyton had broken his arm. The difference was that it wasn't as severe as Marc's own injuries and he hadn't really needed to do too much. Most of his worries had veered more towards Peyton's job than it had on Peyton's actual injury once the shock had worn off. "Besides, if you don't get enough rest you're going to end up flat on your back and that won't really help you do what you want." Sooner or later the body gave out on even the toughest of individuals. And Peyton looked like he was heading that way. Marc didn't want that. A tiny part of him wondered if it was a guilt thing. Peyton hadn't come to pick him up because they had been slammed and that was the night that Marc got hit by a car, so now he had to make it up to him somehow. But Marc didn't want him to feel like he had to make it up, he didn't want him to feel like he was at fault. How was he at fault? It was Peyton's job. Marc could have asked for a ride, he could have taken a different route, he could have said he would wait for Peyton to get a free minute. He hadn't done any of that and if there was anyone to blame it was the driver, not either of them. "I'm lenient because of how handsome you are, that's how you keep it together," Marc murmured out against Peyton's lips, giving a soft, pleased sigh at the simple fact that they could kiss. He knew it hadn't been that long that he'd been too sore and exhausted to even do that but it had felt like forever nonetheless.

He gave another small laugh. "Pey, no, stop saying you'll get me one. We do not need another cat. One cat and one dog is more than enough." Not that he wouldn't like another cat because he really would but... well, there were some things he had to be an adult about. Could they afford another cat? Sure. But just bringing a cat home when they were already having enough life problems wasn't fair to them, to their current pets or to a new pet. Harris was an okay enough cat but he tended to be a bit moody and even a bit antisocial at times. Marc couldn't imagine him enjoying another cat suddenly in on his territory. Peyton didn't need to be breaking up cat fights on top of burdening himself with taking care of Marc and their two existing pets. "You cannot just go pick a random cat up off the street, Pey," he laughed again, wincing just a tiny bit at the way it rattled his ribs but it felt good to laugh nonetheless. "What if it was feral? They will tear you up. What if someone owned it? That is the worst idea of how to get a cat I have heard in awhile." He shook his head a little and smiled fondly at Peyton. "I want pictures," he mumbled to the other man. He didn't get to see that many pictures of young Peyton and the thought of a six year old Peyton with a cat just seemed incredibly adorable to him.

Marc kept his hand on Peyton's cheek and smiled at the older man raising his hand to rest over it. He didn't mind in the least. He liked the steady warmth beneath his hand, liked the strong hand covering his own. It just solidified for him everything that he loved about Peyton. "I know," he said, gently. "I don't think I'll ever forget it." Not just because Peyton had been by his side through all of this, but because Peyton had been by his side through all of... everything. Since the day that Peyton had moved to this town and had run into Marc again the other man had been by his side. Yes, there had been bumps along the way. There were probably still more waiting for them. But through it all Marc could honestly say he had never once thought Peyton would leave him. Maybe that was his being idealistic or even egocentric but it was mostly just a testament to how much he loved the other man, how much he believed in him, believed that Peyton would always be by his side. He tried to not let himself think about things, things like what if Peyton had fallen worse on those stairs, what if Peyton had been shot or hit by a car. Things like what if Marc had been hurt worse or had even died. They were too distressing, too worrying; he didn't need a reason to worry and he should stop giving himself reasons to fret. He would never heal if he was stressing about what ifs.

When Peyton spoke and said he was crazy for him, Marc could feel his features soften into a look of total fondness, of total love, as he looked at the older man. He just stared at him for a minute, taking in everything about him for what was probably the hundredth time that day. He never got tired of just looking at Peyton, looking at him and feeling all the love that he possibly could. "It's perfect, baby. I can't even believe... I had no idea you were even getting me this. I don't even know how you got all that information without even tipping me off." Sure, Peyton gave him expensive presents but Marc wouldn't have expected a computer. He certainly hadn't this time. He kept running his hand over the box for a long moment. "You'd be a crazy man to turn the sex down because let me tell you it is going to be amazing," he teased just a little. "I'll show how grateful I am in other ways, too." He could think of a hundred things he could do to pay Peyton back, to let him know how much he loved him and appreciated such an amazing gift. "This will definitely help with the boredom." He paused and then wrinkled his nose at Peyton at the last bit. "You're a dork, too," he told the other man before he stuck his tongue out at him, the height of maturity.

"Baby, help me get the box open," he told the other man was he shifted the laptop in his lap. He wasn't sure exactly how much gaming he was going to get done considering his dominant hand was still in a cast but he could probably figure something out so he could at least do something. Just having access to a computer alone would probably do wonders for his mental state, even if it was just to watch stupid cat videos online rather than actually getting to game much. Getting to talk to Gabi via computer would be nice, too, because it made it easier on him than the phone. Even with earphones it was just easier to plug a headset into the computer than it was to talk and listen to the phone - usually with a better connection, too.
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Peyton Brooks
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"<b>You know, no one likes a know it all, Marc,</b>" he pointed out dryly in response. They both knew they wouldn't stop worrying about each other. Even if Peyton had been laid up with the world's worst injuries, he'd still be worried that Marc was eating enough, that he was sleeping enough, that he was getting enough time away from whatever because it was taxing for everyone involved. It was just part and parcel of a loved one being hurt or sick, he supposed. It didn't mean he wanted it rubbed in his face, nor did he want it undermining his authority here. Not that he had a whole lot of authority to wobble. "<b>I'm <i>fine</i>,</b>" he assured, "<b>Sweetie, you I know what you're saying with being worried about me, but I'm just worried about you more than resting. I get enough sleep to get by. I'll be okay.</b>" His body didn't quite agree, but he promised it they would have rest soon enough. When Marc was asleep, he would go doze on the couch for a few minutes – not too long, though, because he needed to be here for Marc. He <i>needed</i> to be there for whatever Marc needed because it wasn't like Marc could exactly decide what he wanted to do and go do it. He had to be there because look what happened when he hadn't been. Look what happened when he left Marc to fend for himself. Marc wasn't totally incapable of doing things, but the worst case scenarios seemed to be happening and he didn't want to risk Marc feeling like he <i>had</i> to get up. "<b>Oh finally my good looks are put to some use,</b>" he chuckled into the kiss. When things were like this, he could almost believe they were on their way to recovery.
<p>
He let out a small sigh as Marc laugh and said no a little more firmly than he had before. "<b>I'm just saying. It'd be another cuddle buddy.</b>" Because Snickers was too much of a dog to be cuddled with right now. She meant well, but she got excited and stepped on everything and leaned all of her weight onto people. Harris, on the other hand, was picky about when he wanted attention and how he got it. And Marc wasn't exactly in a position to go chasing after him. Not that he did; he said he was giving the cat space so it would come to him when it wanted to. Maybe Marc needed a cat that would snuggle up with him. There were cats out there like that, right? "<b>Fine,</b>" he sighed loudly, "<b>I'll go to the humane society, better?</b>" Maybe he shouldn't push this. Did he really want another cat to feed? It wasn't going to hurt their budget, Snickers loved anything that came into the house and Harris might just be indifferent, so it all worked out. But more realistically, did he have the time for one? Bringing in a cat when Marc still had his recovery going on...Peyton hardly had time for Snickers and Harris as it was, how could he add to it? "<b>If it was feral, I would have left it alone. I'm not dumb, you goof. And if it was someone else's cat, they would have put up posters and we would have been protecting said cat from getting hit by a car. See, I can poke holes in your logic too,</b>" he teased. He lifted a hand to ruffle at his own hair. "<b>I don't know if we have any? I'll call and ask dad, but I feel like a lot of them got sent out to mom and they just got...lost.</b>" Because dad had never been big into pictures in general outside of just paying for the school ones. When mom's stuff had come back, whatever pictures he had sent to her weren't there.
<p>
He leaned in so he could press his lips to Marc's lightly as the younger man said he wouldn't forget it. It did his heart good...while at the same time, made something deep inside him hurt because it could all change in an instance. Peyton knew that he would be able to handle if they broke up. It would hurt – god how it would hurt because he loved Marc – but he would at least take comfort in knowing that Marc had the chance of finding happiness and doing things he loved. What if this situation had gone worse? What if Marc had fallen or been hit in a slightly different way so that he didn't make it out with only injuries? He pulled himself closer to Marc, pressed his face against the younger man's hair. He pulled back after a moment so he could look at Marc properly. "<b>That's why it was going to be a present,</b>" he pointed out, "<b>You weren't suppose to have any idea I was getting it for you. Baby, all I had to do was go 'what kind of computer do you like' and you prattled on for like five hours.</b>" It wasn't exactly that, but it had been fairly easy to get the information up. A game would freeze or crash, audio would be weird, or it wasn't running fast enough and Marc would complain that his computer was the worst. All Peyton had to do was ask the problem and when he had looked confused, Marc had gone on about the perfect specs he would have on his dream computer. "<b>Sex is always amazing with you,</b>" he countered, "<b>and you know what's more amazing than sex with you? Everything. Everything involving you in my life is pretty amazing.</b>" It wasn't a lie. He loved the sex, it was great and he enjoyed it, but he liked cuddling with Marc, liked going out on dates, sitting down and watching TV or Marc gaming while sitting in his lap. "<b>I'm glad.</b>" He was relieved because as much as he knew he wanted to always be there for Marc, he knew that it wouldn't stop the boredom. "<b>I am not,</b>" he said easily, breezily.
<p>
He took the box from Marc, carefully pressing in the sides until the tape gave a little and he could undo the packaging. When he carefully took it out, it looked pretty much like any other laptop he might have gotten. He couldn't see any of the crazy bells and whistles that Marc had asked for and there was a part of him that hoped he hadn't been duped into buying a very expensive paperweight. "<b>Want help setting it up? And by help setting it up I mean I'm pretty sure I can figure out how to plug it in.</b>"
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Marc Miller

"Well, I'm just saying," Marc protested with a small huff at Peyton's dry response. And Marc had a valid point, which he knew that Peyton knew. They weren't going to ever stop worrying about one another. He knew Peyton was just irritated because Marc had hit the nail on the head and countered his argument enough that he was feeling defensive. Neither of them generally got that defensive but they did tend to huff and be rather obvious about things whenever it did happen. Which meant that Peyton probably wasn't getting as much rest as he should, which only made Marc worry no matter what the older man told him. "I'm not going anywhere or going to do anything much for awhile, so you should sleep more, rest more," Marc wheedled again, using his best begging voice that he had. It was the voice that got him things when Peyton was huffing over them. It was the voice that got Peyton to curl up with him. It was the voice of a man in love who only wanted the man that he loved to agree with him. Some people probably would call that manipulation, but Marc didn't. If Peyton always agreed with him and folded then, yes, it would be, but Peyton had no problem in just giving him a dry look and saying no if he really had something against whatever Marc was requesting. He had to wonder if Peyton was just... fretting that Marc needed him. Which, yes, at some points Marc did need him. But Marc slept a lot and he watched television and movies a lot. He didn't constantly need Peyton to be awake. Even just having Peyton stretched out next to him napping would have been more than fine with him. Marc smiled a little against Peyton's lips. "I'd say they're always put to use. They give me something amazing to look at all the time, don't they?"

Marc just shook his head a little. "I've got a pretty good cuddle buddy right here, don't I?" he asked as he reached out his good hand to poke one finger at Peyton's arm. Truthfully, he wasn't much of a cuddler at the moment. He wanted to be, of course, but there really was only one comfortable position that he could lie in with cracked ribs and a broken pelvis and that was on his back - often propped up with pillows because just lying flat on his back was uncomfortable right now, too. That didn't give a lot of room for him to curl up in Peyton's arms like he normally would, or to throw an arm over the dog or pull the cat into his arms. He wasn't going to get to cuddle another cat right now even if he did give in. "I'm gonna think you're the one wantin' a cat at this rate, baby." Which Peyton didn't really come off as much of a cat person. Not that he disliked Harris in the least. Marc had caught him cuddling on the caught, playing with the cat and teasing the cat numerous times. He just didn't come off as someone who would be happy with two or three cats was all. "Yes, that's much better and much less likely to run into problems," he teased lightly. He gave another laugh that rattled his ribs but it still felt good nonetheless. It felt good to act like things were normal again, even if they wouldn't be fully normal for another two months or so. "You just said you were six! How many six year olds know the difference, huh? Sounds like a white lie to me." He gave Peyton a small, fond smile as he ruffled his hair up. "Well, I can hold out hope that there is one."

Marc just kissed the older man back for a good moment, putting as much love into the act that he could, enjoying it in the way that he always enjoyed kissing Peyton. Though he couldn't shift about or move as much as he would like, he still did his best to shift just the tiniest bit closer to Peyton as he moved closer, tucking his head up under the other man's chin in a way that he always enjoyed. He closed his eyes for the moment, just enjoying being so close to him, giving a soft sigh of happiness. "No fair using logic," he told the other man when he pointed out that it was supposed to be a gift and that Marc wasn't supposed to know about it for that very reason. He ducked his head a little again and just butted up under Peyton's chin like a cat. "Okay, I guess you have a fair point." Marc just had a tendency to... keep talking. If he didn't realize that someone wasn't that into it or if he was nervous he would just keep going on and on at the other person until he realized what he had been doing. With Peyton, he always felt at ease and so he would usually keep prattling about whatever it was he was talking about until he either realized Peyton had zoned out somewhat or that he was just talking at the other man a mile a minute about things he wasn't that interested in. He made a small, embarrassed and yet pleased noise at Peyton's words, turning his head a bit more and burying it further against Peyton's neck. "I'm glad," he said after a moment. "I feel the same way, baby." He had never thought he could be so in love and so happy, after all. "Pey, you used the word purrito once. You are a dork."

When Peyton pulled away to take the box from him, Marc offered up more of his attention than was probably really warranted as Peyton worked at slowly opening the box. He could see the tiniest look of uncertainty and confusion on Peyton's face as he just looked at what pretty much appeared to be a normal, unassuming laptop - one that might even be less than what the others were because it was so thin and lightweight. But Marc just breathed out excitedly, wanting to reach for it and run his hands all over it. He was hindered by the fact that he only had one hand that could really grab and hold things at the moment, though, so he waited until Peyton set it in his lap and then ran his right hand reverently over it with a pleased sounding sigh. It almost took him a moment to realize that Peyton had even asked him something. "Oh. Oh, yeah, that'd probably be good," he said after a few seconds.
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Peyton Brooks
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"<b>My know it all.</b>" He leaned in to press a kiss to Marc's forehead. Maybe it was a bit irritating to be told a point that he didn't overly want to admit to, but...it was washed away in relief and assurance that Marc was here. He could be hypocritical right now, he could allow himself to say 'it wouldn't be the same' because they were both okay. They were both alive and Marc would be recovering with time. How could Peyton be realistically annoyed over Marc having a point when they were both alive? "<b>I know, I know.</b>" It was lip service and they both knew it. Marc would say rest more and Peyton would say he would and then he wouldn't. Even against that voice. It was always impossible to resist in anything...except this, he knew. Because there were so many 'what if's that he needed to consider. "<b>I promise I will get more rest, okay?</b>" It didn't quite feel like a lie, but it wouldn't be hard to add on an extra few minutes here or there, would it? And then he wouldn't technically be lying. Maybe it was underhanded, maybe it was lying by omission but he'd rather Marc start worrying about his own recovery than Peyton needing rest. Maybe he'd try and sleep a bit more next to Marc, then Marc could push at him to ask him for things. But that would be relying on Marc actually waking him, which he didn't trust very much. "<b><i>Finally</i>. All my hard work has been recognized at last. Now I'll have to stay on top of things just for you, baby.</b>"
<p>
He leaned his forehead against Marc's, letting it rest there. "<b>A cat would be fuzzier and smaller.</b>" And it might be better. Algernon was always saying that pets were great stress relievers (if you were in a position to take care of them). When he had gotten out of the army, a few doctors had even suggested to Peyton to get a dog or a cat. It hadn't been the right time for a pet, he had told the doctors. He had just gotten out of the army, he was living with his parents, and he didn't know what he was doing with his life. He hadn't had a job immediately, he hadn't liked his job when he had gotten it...and then he had moved down to Texas. He wouldn't have wanted to do that to a pet. "<b>Nah, I'm more of a dog person. Cats are good, but it's a rare cat that will play fetch with you and wrestle.</b>" At least Peyton would have felt worried about crushing a cat with wrestling. Snickers was a big dog and she wasn't exactly an animal he could role right on top of to crush. She might not like it, but it wasn't a death sentence. Not that it was for a cat either, really, but...He was glad Marc was teasing him, laughing even if it might have been jostling him too much. When they first got home, Marc had still been drowsy, still more asleep than awake when he had been lying in bed. It was nice to have him interacting. "<b>Even six year olds can understand if a cat is trying to claw and bite you that you don't pick it up. Obviously a feral cat would have run off rather than dropping to the sidewalk and rubbing itself all over the cement.</b>" Because the cat had been sweet and purred so much for him and Dalton and had never bitten them in all the years they had been together. "<b>I'll ask him about it next time we talk.</b>"
<p>
The kiss was good, was wonderful, and Peyton was pretty sure that was only partially because they had had a brush of worry that maybe there would be no more kisses. He could freely admit that he would appreciate Marc in whole new ways now. He had always loved the younger man, but there had been the feeling of forever with it. He had forgotten that they were both pretty mortal. Even when he had broken his arm, it had only come and gone in his mind, drifting to only touch down briefly. "<b>Oh I think it's perfectly fair.</b>" He moved his head so he could press a kiss to Marc's hair. "<b>It makes it really easy to get you gifts if I get you going.</b>" He laughed softly. It usually took a lot of willpower when that happened. Not because he ever tuned Marc out, since that seemed too rude, but...Peyton's dad had always said that things went in one ear and out the other almost instantly. It never seemed to be a malicious thing or a focusing problem, but Peyton just had a strong tendency to forget. He forgot information readily before he ever got to use it. Listening to Marc was easy, saying that something seemed like a good present for him was perfect, but if Peyton didn't find a way to write it down usually meant he forgot all about it. "<b>I was hoping you would.</b>" He tried not to put expectations on Marc because that was always what lead to a downfall in a relationship. But he had hoped that Marc loved him and thought being with him in general was amazing. That was what kept them close, right? He shook his head a little. "<b>I believe the only recorded evidence of such an occurrence is you telling Gabi you just heard a person shouting 'oh no my purrito'. There is no evidence that it was actually me. I am not a dork.</b>"
<p>
At least Marc was excited. If Marc was excited, that was the important thing. Peyton could be confused and uncertain, he could wonder if he had actually gotten the right thing, but if Marc was excited? That meant it was right. If Marc was happy, that mattered more than anything. He watched Marc run his hand over it slowly, stroking it almost like he would a living creature. He snorted as Marc finally answered him, finally seemed to register that he had been spoken to. "<b>Well, now I know I'm not needed anymore,</b>" he teased. He unraveled the cords, carefully plugging them in and taking the quick second to plug it into the wall so he could lie right back down next to Marc. "<b>I hope this helps a little bit with boredom, baby. I know it's still going to be rough with the arm, but is it better than nothing?</b>"
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Marc Miller

Marc scrunched his nose up a little as Peyton kissed his forehead. "Well, so long as somebody can lay claim to me," he said instead of anything else. He didn't exactly like being called a know it all but there were worse things and, really, he knew he and Peyton were mostly just teasing one another. And, really, it was all fine. He was here and he had Peyton. What did it matter if they were poking at each other once in awhile? It wasn't harmful or hurtful. Marc gave a small sigh at Peyton's words, at the promise that said it was anything but the truth. He understood that Peyton wanted to watch over him. He understood that Peyton was justifiably shaken and worried. But he just didn't understand why Peyton couldn't rest a little. It wasn't like Marc was awake and demanding things every single second of the day. Honestly, once he took his pain medication he was generally asleep for a good two hours or so and that was plenty of time to get a quick nap in. Then he could do other things the next time Marc dozed off, then he could lie there and rest next to him, then he could sleep with Marc when it was time for actual bed. And it wasn't like Marc was going to just... always need something. Sometimes, yes, he might need to shake Peyton awake for help with something but, over all, Marc was generally content to just doze and watch things or read and talk to Peyton. It seemed clear cut to Marc that the older man could rest but apparently not to Peyton. "Mm... you'd better. I like your looks. Quite a lot, actually." Because Peyton was still, hands down, the most handsome man that Marc had ever seen or met.

"I don't know. You don't shave for a few days and you get kind of fuzzy," he teased Peyton gently. Granted, he loved his cat but he would like another that was maybe a little different. Harris was friendly enough but it was always on his own terms. He let Marc cuddle him and play with him and mess around, but his patience was limited. Marc wanted one of those cats that just sat there and purred while you did whatever to it. Right now, though, was not the time to add a new pet. Not when he couldn't help Peyton with it, not when it might upset Snickers and Harris. They had already been upset by Marc's disappearing for the time he was in the hospital and then coming home different and unable to do what he usually did with them. Marc gave a small laugh at that. "I know. I figured as much. Though you get the right cat and they will." Harris was not that cat. He would play, but he wasn't particularly dog-like. Maybe, one day, Marc might have a cat that was more content to be manhandled and to play fetch but, for now, he was just going to have to deal with what he was given. Which was fine by him, because he loved his cat. He loved that Peyton had gotten the kitten for him just because Marc had mentioned he liked cats. He loved Harris. He loved Snickers, too. Marc gave a little huff at Peyton's logic and his words. "Well, you didn't say that now did you? You omitted information." He stuck his tongue out at the older man before his features melted more into a smile. "I'd like that." And he would. He'd like to see pictures of young Peyton. He'd offer some in return but, honestly, he doubted there were that many of him floating around and even if they were they probably wouldn't be ones Peyton would want to see anyways. Probably just a few stiff family photos here and there and not much else. And he'd have to talk to his parents to get them anyways and that was something he avoided most of the time.

He gave a happy hum at the kiss. He had missed this. He had missed being able to show Peyton how much he loved him. And he wanted to always do it. He wouldn't say that he had always known about their mortality but he had been introduced to the very real fact that Peyton could be killed when he had broken his arm. The thought had lingered, but he still hadn't really adjusted. He hadn't thought about it for himself. And now this. Now Peyton could have been hurt worse in the line of duty, Marc could have been hurt even worse. He might never get the chance to kiss Peyton like this again and damn if he wasn't going to try to do it as much as he could. "Nope. Logic isn't fair. We went over this before." Despite his words, though, he couldn't help but to give a happy, pleased sigh when Peyton turned his head enough to press a kiss against the top of his head. "Well, I guess sometimes my inability to stop talking comes in handy." Even if he often wished he could shut up himself up. At least it had made it so Peyton could do what he had done, something which probably benefited the both of them. "Pey, baby, since the moment I met you I thought you were amazing. I've been in love since day one, pretty much." There had been ups and downs and Marc had been so sure he wasn't really going to be enough for Peyton. They'd had a huge mix up after they'd first met where Peyton had just forgotten to mention that he'd be coming back and Marc had been so sure that that was it. But, over all, things had been good and wonderful and Marc still thought the world of Peyton. "Gabi heard it to. She'll back me up. Two against one, I win. You're a giant dork. Which is great 'cause I love giant dorks named Peyton."

Marc looked momentarily abashed at Peyton's snort and at his words. Then he just smiled a little. "Sorry. I have a new boyfriend now. I mean, look how sleek and sexy this thing is," he said as he ran his hand over the laptop once again. His fingers practically itched with the need to just dive right into setting it up, to getting things situated the way that he liked him. He looked over at Peyton as he laid down and he smiled slowly, a soft smile full of all the love he felt for the other man. "It'll do wonders, baby. I can adapt for now. And it won't be forever. The wrist is going to heal soon enough. Thank you, baby." It was such a wonderful gift for Peyton to have thought of. More than that, it was wonderful for him to have remembered it now, for him to give it over and for him to just bring himself right back to Marc's side even when he knew Marc would be distracted. Was there a better man in the world?
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Peyton Brooks
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"<b>I will always lay claim to you because it is the best thing in the world to be with you.</b>" They had just been teasing – or at least Peyton had – but he couldn't help but say that with the utmost sincerity. He would always lay claim to Marc. He didn't think there would ever be a moment where he didn't. Unless Marc told him flat out that they weren't going to say they were a couple in whatever situation, Peyton was not going to let anyone assume different. He was happy with Marc, there wasn't shame in what they had. Just because they were two guys didn't make things terrible. The age difference never really meant anything. He wanted the world to know that Peyton had laid claim to Marc and that Marc laid claim to him. It was a thought that had always been in the back of his mind, but this brought it roaring back. Not because of how much it was true, but because of how much it could have been ruined. What if Peyton went to sleep and woke up to find that he had been so desperate to believe Marc was okay that he dreamed it? He wanted Marc safe and alive that he had convinced himself that was truth? Okay, that was all a bit much, considering that was relying on a lot of factors, but he didn't want to risk it. Not for one second did he want to risk it. "<b>At least until I don't shave. Then it's always 'ugh you have beard' and 'nooooo no scratchy beard,</b>" he teased. "<b>But I'm glad you do, because I find your looks quite appealing too.</b>" And it felt like fate had wanted them together because he didn't think Marc was close to his physical type. It had just been when they were in the bar, he had been cute and he had been talkative and Peyton had been in love.
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He snorted as Marc said that he got kind of fuzzy when he didn't shave. It made him lift a hand to his chin, rubbing at the stubble that was all ready starting to get out of control. "<b>Yeah, but you don't like that kind of fuzz.</b>" Which wasn't exactly true. Marc definitely seemed to prefer him relatively smooth and shaven, but he didn't seem to outwardly hate when Peyton got stubble unless he was rubbing it against Marc's cheek. It was probably one of those things that if Marc had an opinion on it, he wasn't going to tell Peyton for fear of Peyton taking offense. He chuckled softly at Marc's words. "<b>Am I obvious about my preference?</b>" People said he was. Then again, Tibby had pointed out that Peyton was pretty much an all American man; he looked like a man that wanted to live in a small neighborhood with a fenced in yard, eat very American food, and who preferred dogs over all other pets. Peyton always had demanded what liking dogs had to do with being 'all American' but he had just gotten a 'hush' in return. "<b>I dunno, that's a really hard trait to find in a cat.</b>" Oh they were out there, Peyton knew, but...well, their pets hadn't exactly been long term choices. They hadn't researched overly much. Harris had been bought because Marc had said he wanted a cat and Harris was a nice looking one. Snickers had been adopted because Peyton had made the mistake of seeing her when he was helping unload animals from a hoarder and fallen in love. It had only been the quickest of glances to see if she had lived with other animals, why she had been abandoned, and she had been brought home that day. Not exactly the best track record between them. "<b>Oh I'm sorry, next time I'll go into great detail about Mister Kitty purred at us and dropped to the ground and rolled about and followed us for a block before we picked him up.</b>" Not that he really remembered that; it was ages ago now and he remembered it in a hazy light, one where he just remembered the cat dropping to roll around and then Dalton carrying it while he had begged and begged to be the one to carry it. "<b>I'm surprised my dad hasn't offered any up.</b>" He wouldn't say his dad was completely stoic about things but he had never been the type to show of childhood pictures. Neither was his mom.
<p>
He lifted a hand, carefully, carefully cradling Marc's cheek as he kissed him. All he wanted to do was pull Marc into his arms, deepen that kiss and hold him...but that wasn't going to be a possibility for a long while. He didn't think he could wait, he didn't know how he would wait. "<b>Oh you're so cute, baby, thinking I'll stop because it's not fair. Of course it's not fair, it gets me what I want.</b>" And that was why Peyton would use it until the very end of his days. It was one of the best tools at his disposal because he struggled with just...forgetting things. Things got pushed around in his head and replaced so quickly that he just couldn't remember dates or things that he had wanted off on a list. Someone telling him exactly what they wanted was a life saver if he could get it written down in enough time. "<b>Your inability to stop talking is one of the cutest things I have ever seen in my life.</b>" Maybe he was being a bit biased, because he liked listening to Marc, he liked watching him get excited and animated...he liked watching him get embarrassed and blushing and stammering. He took Marc's good hand, lifting it carefully to his lips so he could brush his lips over it. "<b>I've loved you since then too, Marc. You're the most amazing man in the world and were worth moving to another state for.</b>" Granted Peyton had been ready for a change, he had been disillusioned from working months in a job he didn't want, but moving to Texas? Moving to a small town? It wouldn't have happened if not for Marc. His only regret had been that he had forgotten to tell Marc he was moving; it had just been he was so caught up in being with Marc that it kept being forgotten. He let out a loud sigh. "<b>If only my purrito hadn't run from me.</b>" Though all things considered, he was surprised Harris had put up with it all that much. "<b>What a specific sort of love, lucky for me though.</b>"
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He let out a loud sigh, letting himself drop to the bed on his side so he could still look at Marc. "<b>I can be sexy too. Though...it does have me beat on sleek.</b>" He watched Marc run his hands over it, watched that strange <i>need</i> in his eye that he got whenever there was a bit of technology. He pillowed his head on his arm, smiling just a little as Marc spoke. "<b>I was happy to. It's worth it just to see your smile.</b>" Because Marc had been in so much pain and so tired since the accident, there had been no reasons <i>to</i> smile. Seeing it now, it made Peyton's heart ease a little from being tied up so tight.
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Marc Miller

The teasing ended abruptly, but Marc couldn't find it in himself to care. How could he with words like that? He felt his face go momentarily shocked before the expression melted into one of awe and adoration - honestly an expression that was pretty common on his face ever since the day that he had met Peyton. "Baby," he breathed out the nickname in a voice that said, in the right circumstances, he might have been ready to cry over it. He wasn't someone who gave in to tears very often, though, and so there was no real threat of them - just a deep amount of emotion in his voice. "I will always be glad to let you lay claim to me. Always. I always want to be with you." And he did. He had thought at times before in his life that he was in love and maybe he was. Maybe he had been, even if it had been one-sided. But he knew now that it wasn't the same kind of love. It wasn't this all encompassing thing, this deep feeling of love and emotion that was constantly there to practically bowl him over with just how happy and loved he was. There had been ups and downs, yes, but that was life; that was a relationship. The majority of it had been good. It had been wonderful. Peyton was older? Marc liked older men and he liked Peyton's knowledge and expertise. Peyton was more serious at times? Marc liked that. Needed that. And it made it all the more enjoyable when Peyton unbent to be silly and goofy with him. Marc wrinkled his nose a tiny bit at Peyton's words. "I don't think you look good with a full beard," he said, needlessly. He had said it plenty of times before. "You look good with the goatee though." He reached his good hand out to stroke over Peyton's cheek, his chin, to rub over the rough stubble. "But scratchy beard is terrible and you should be ashamed of how terrible it is, why do you think I thrash around like a fish on a line?" In truth, he didn't mind that much but he liked poking at Peyton about it and acting like it was some terrible thing worthy of the dramatics he put into it. He ducked his said, cheeks heating up a tiny bit, pleasantly embarrassed. "I'm glad," he said, softly. He'd never thought of himself as anything other than 'cute'. Cute was nice, but it wasn't attractive. It wasn't handsome or sexy. It was just cute. He was glad that Peyton was attracted to him because he found Peyton so devastatingly handsome.

"I like a little bit of that fuzz," Marc told him honestly. He liked Peyton without a beard at all, but what he really preferred was Peyton with a goatee. And he really preferred it in the early stages of that goatee. There was just something about him with that bit of stubble on his chin and his upper lips that drew him like nothing else. A full beard, though? Marc would pass. And he would definitely pass when Peyton decided to try rubbing his face all over him. He gave a small smile at Peyton's question. "No. You like Harris a lot. You just... seem like a dog guy. Like, you just look at you and go 'yeah he likes dogs'." Peyton certainly didn't seem to dislike cats one bit. It was just the general feel of him said he was a dog guy and Marc couldn't explain it other than just as 'you look like a guy who likes dogs'. "Not impossible, though," he said. He didn't deny that it was hard to find. After all, there were plenty of cats that didn't want anything to do with anyone at all. At least Harris liked them and interacted with them, even played with Snickers now that they were used to each other. He just wasn't bounding around the house after a ball or being needy. He wrinkled his nose at Peyton at his words. "Someone put on his sassy pants today." He paused for a brief second before the rest of what Peyton had said filtered into his brain. "You named him Mister Kitty?! That is the cutest thing ever, Pey." Of course, Peyton and his brother had been young but that was still adorable. He didn't have much of an idea about what Peyton had looked like as a child, but he could still see the mental picture in his head and it was adorable. He gave a small laugh. "He probably would if I'd dropped a few hints." Peyton's family had been mildly bewildered by him initially but they'd all liked him - to his great surprise - and his dad had always seemed like just a jovial sort of man. He probably would have proudly shown some off. Not like his own parents. Hell, his own parents had never even met Peyton. Probably never would, too. And if they did, it was highly unlikely they would be handing around childhood photographs. He gave the tiniest of sighs at his thoughts, trying to shake them off before they settled and stuck.

Marc closed his eyes and just leaned into Peyton's touch. He never got tired of it. He missed it. He craved it. They hadn't been able to do anything, though. Cracked ribs and a broken pelvis pretty much ensured that nothing happened; even getting out of bed and to a chair or the restroom was a monumental task. Sure, it would heal in a few months but it was still horrendously limiting. Granted, he hadn't had a lot of time to really desire Peyton. Being in pain and being asleep kind of curbed things like that. He still hurt, he was still sleeping a lot, but he was slowly getting better and it was like torture to have him and finally be able to kiss and to just have to... stop. He made a small whining noise at Peyton's words. "I'll just keep complaining about it not being fair then." Of course, he supposed it worked out in his favor. It had gotten him quite a spectacular gift, after all. He couldn't help but to duck his head as Peyton said his inability to stop talking was cute. Marc didn't think that could even qualify as cute, could it? Not when he got so much embarrassment from it. Not when he could almost physically feel people growing bored. It was just one of his problems; when he got nervous or passionate his mouth just kept running. "It's not that cute," he mumbled out for lack of anything better to say in response to that. He smiled softly at Peyton taking his hand, brushing his lips over it. He shifted his hand in the older man's grasp, turning to brush his thumb over Peyton's lips lightly. "I'm glad. I'm glad, baby." Because he could have not had this. Peyton could have just been messing around with him. Peyton could have decided it was fun, but he didn't want to make the effort of moving for a relationship. There could have been so many little ifs. But he had this wonderful man and he loved him so much. He gave a small laugh, "Betrayed by a cat in a blanket," he said with a small smile. "It is very specific. I'm glad I met a giant dork named Peyton."

Marc smiled at the older man as he laid back down on the bed again. "Sorry, baby. I need both." He gave a heavy sigh. "I guess I better give the ring back." He knew there wasn't a chance that Peyton thought he was serious. They both knew that if anyone was ever going to end their relationship it wouldn't be him. And even if he had the courage for that it certainly wouldn't be over the fact that he just really liked the look of his new laptop. "Me and Peyton Two will just have to get to know one another better," he teased lightly as he opened up the laptop and pressed the power button, feeling a little thrill work its way through him as it hummed to life. He turned his gaze away when Peyton spoke, though, and he gave the blond a small, heartfelt smile. It wasn't easy to move his left hand with the cast encasing it, but he did so anyways and just lightly brushed the tips of his fingers against Peyton's cheek. "Thank you," he told him again, softly. He didn't say 'not just for the laptop, but for everything.' but he had a feeling Peyton could figure that out easily enough. "I love you." It felt so important to say it over and over. Peyton had been hurt on the job before. Marc could have been killed. Peyton needed to know that Marc loved him, loved him desperately and so painfully that it almost hurt at times.
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Peyton Brooks
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He leaned down, pressing his face to Marc's and closing his eyes as Marc said the nickname. It was all true, he knew and he knew Marc knew. At least, he really hoped that was what Marc knew. Sometimes there were days where he felt like he didn't have to say anything, that Marc knew and understood and felt the same. Then there were days where Peyton felt like he had to say it in explicit detail what he felt and what he wanted Marc to know. He stretched his arm over Marc, taking his good hand in a loose grip. "<b>I hope so. And I hope I can be the sort of man that you'll always want to be with.</b>" Because things always changed. Sometimes relationships grew and they were in opposite directions before anyone realized it. Sometimes someone came along in a person's life and they realized they loved <i>that</i> person. Nothing was absolute in this world, but he wanted to cheat and say he had at least one thing that was. He wouldn't say love for Marc, because while there was that, it went deeper than that. It was more he always wanted to be a person that Marc wanted to associated with, even if they broke up. He snorted as Marc wrinkled his nose. "<b>I distinctly remember a certain someone saying 'not sure if want' with my last attempt.</b>" It had been just an experiment. It had been a a beard left to actually grow because he hadn't paid attention to it for days and he had thought 'why not'. Marc had looked at him and he had looked like some sort of confused puppy. It had only lasted a few hours at least before Peyton had shave proper. Marc pulled his hand away from his, lifting it so he could stroke Peyton's cheek, rub at the stubble and Peyton could only close his eyes. When Marc had first done that sort of thing, it had been the weirdest sensation, it had been something he couldn't tell if he liked or not. Now, though, it was welcomed. "<b>See I just thought that was a normal thing you did, just flopping around.</b>" When it had first happened, he had worried, he had pulled back but it had been one of those things that he knew if Marc didn't like it, he would have said so. He leaned in again, kissing Marc lightly as he said he was glad.
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He laughed softly. "<b>Well I never thought I'd be glad at my ability to grow stubble quickly.</b>" It had honestly been one of those things he had just never cared about. It was just something he did and most of the people he dated hadn't cared either, but he figured that was more because he hadn't dated them long enough to make it a problem. Or a bonus, depending on the person. Marc was the first person to actually care. Which made it a bit of a curse when he forgot to shave. "<b>Harris is a good cat,</b>" he said easily. And Harris put up with a lot – and by a lot, he had meant that he put up with Peyton managing to wrap him in a blanket. He hadn't been <i>happy</i> about that but Peyton hadn't wound up with a ton of scratches. "<b>I never knew I was so easy to read.</b>" He didn't understand. He doubted he would <i>ever</i> understand because he couldn't see himself as other people did. He couldn't understand what they were saying that made them think he preferred dogs to all others, even if it was true. "<b>Not impossible, but I doubt Harris ever will be that cat. He prefers lying in your lap while you play video games.</b>" Which was good for Marc, which was why Harris was Marc's pet. On the other hand, Snickers got fussy if she didn't get to go outside multiple times a day just to run around, she got sulky when she didn't get to go on walks, which made her good for Peyton. "<b>Sweetie, I always wear my sassy pants. It's just a given.</b>" He snorted as Marc went on to confirm what he had named their cat, that it was the cutest thing ever. "<b>I was a kid, I didn't know anything about naming cats,</b>" he said as way of defense for himself. It had just been that they called the cat Mister Kitty and it had stuck, so it had always been Mister Kitty. "<b>Probably. I think he might be surprised you want to see them.</b>" Because there was also that disconnect these days. The kids were all well grown up and didn't react to parents trying to embarrass them – it almost seemed like after thirty parents stopped seeing their kids as their kids. What had been fun and teasing before then just wasn't anymore. Or maybe it was just Peyton's family.
<p>
He let his hand move, moving up to stroke through Marc's hair, then back down to his cheek again. At least they still had this, he told himself. The results of the accident could have been so much worse. Peyton could have never gotten this again, he could have never been able to hold or kiss Marc ever again. Compared to that, months of recovery was easier to bare. "<b>You keep doing that and I'll keep doing what I want and then we'll meet somewhere in the middle.</b>" He reached up to play with Marc's hair again, carding his fingers through it, twisting a strand around a finger gently. "<b>It's cute,</b>" he said easily, "<b>because your face does this thing where...you just light up. And you get so animated that you move your hands and you stumble over words because it's like you can't get to them all fast enough.</b>" And Peyton loved watching it. He didn't understand everything that was said to him, but he loved the way Marc delivered all the words. Just watching him be passionate, watching him get excited...it made up for not understanding. He closed his eyes briefly as Marc ran his thumb lightly over his lips, as he said he was glad. "<b>You are worth so much,</b>" he told him seriously. He was worth someone moving, he was worth someone changing their schedule, he was worth all the love and affection that could be given. "<b>That's the worst kind of betrayal,</B>" he sighed forlornly. "<b>It usually involves more scratches.</b>" Harris had batted at him, but it had all been with hidden claws. That must have meant so kind of feline respect, right? "<b>I am not a dork, you take it back.</b>" Even as he said those words, he leaned in to kiss Marc again.
<p>
He let out a loud sigh as Marc said he needed both. "<b>Dang it,</b>" he bemoaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, "<b>I knew this was a bad idea. I looked at it and I thought 'it's going to show me up'. How right I was!</b>" If Marc had offered him the ring back in all seriousness, Peyton didn't know if he could take it. He had given that ring to Marc and promised his life to Marc's...he wouldn't want that returned, to stare at him every day of his life. He doubted Marc would want it either in that situation. Would it have been selfish of Peyton that if something didn't work out and they broke up that he wanted Marc to have the responsibility to sell it? Probably. More than likely. The problem was that Peyton wasn't sure if he <i>could</i> sell it rather than think about all the things that could have been. "<b>Oh great, insult to injury here. Not only is it better than me, it's <i>second</i> to me? How is this fair?</b>" he sighed out again. Of course he was pretty sure that's how technology worked. In the real world, second was always "second best". In technology world, second was the newer and better version with more bells and whistles. If people were constantly upgrading, why didn't they just go backwards so that number one was always number one? He smiled as Marc stroked his cheek as best he could with his encased arm. "<b>Anything for you,</b>" he said easily and with no hesitation. He would do anything for Marc to make him happy, to make things easier for him. "<b>I love you more than there are stars in the sky,</b>" he said that just as easily. More than that, he knew. He loved Marc so much that sometimes he wondered how anyone could have compared for the longest of times.
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Marc Miller

Marc closed his eyes as Peyton pressed his face against Marc's own. At least they still had this. Marc couldn't really do much right now, but they could touch. He could still be here with Peyton. It had been hard the first few weeks. By necessity, he had been forced to stay in the hospital. Even with James and Gabi both visiting for extended periods of time, Peyton had found it hard to leave him although there had been times where he had to because of Harris and Snickers. In the hospital, everything had hurt and Marc had honestly hardly been awake. It had taken a week before he was really more aware of everything that was going on around him and had taken another two weeks before they decided that he could do just as well at home as he was in the hospital. "I think you will be," Marc told him. Of course, neither of them could predict anything but Peyton loved him and Marc loved Peyton. They got on fairly well and Marc couldn't imagine life without him. He was pretty sure that they would be together still for years to come. He hoped, anyways. He wrinkled his nose at Peyton as the other man pointed out what he had said in regards to the full beard that Peyton had grown. "Uh huh and that doesn't mean I loved it," he pointed out. It meant he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. In the end, he had just decided that, no, he didn't like a full beard on Peyton. He smiled just a little as Peyton closed his eyes when Marc rubbed at his chin and at the stubble. "See, you're like a big cat, baby," he teased, gently. He couldn't stop himself from giving a small huff as Peyton said he just thought that Marc flailing and flopping around was just a thing that Marc did. "Granted," he grumbled out after a moment. Because Marc just... did things like that. He was very expressive with his whole body and he had never realized it until Peyton laughed or teased him over it or said it was adorable. He let his eyes close again as Peyton leaned in and gave him a small kiss, just breathing out a soft sigh of happiness into the kiss.

"I sure am. It just fits you." Maybe it was because he was just used to Peyton with it, since that was how they had met. The thing was that he didn't mind Peyton clean shaven. He thought he was very handsome that way, too. He wasn't overly fond of the look of a full beard. Somewhere in between, though, was like the perfect balance for him. He loved that goatee and the bit of stubble around it. It just seemed to set Peyton's features off even more. He gave a small laugh. "When he wants to be." For the most part, though, Harris suited Marc just fine. He wasn't the most overly affectionate animal, but he obviously liked Marc and Peyton. He just had a limit of how much overbearing attention he wanted. And he wasn't a mean cat. If he wanted loose he would just bat at you with his claws sheathed and then run off. He wasn't antisocial like some cats were, even if he wasn't pouring adoration into anyone's lap like a dog might. He gave another small laugh. "I don't know how to explain it..." Some people just looked or acted like they'd be more comfortable with a certain type of pet was all. Peyton just seemed like a guy who would like dogs. Marc probably came off as a cat person, or maybe even both. He didn't know. He smiled a little. "No, definitely not Harris. But you got Snickers so you don't really need a dog-cat." And he was glad that Peyton had Snickers. It meant they both had a pet that was theirs, even if they both loved the other pet a lot. Snickers thought Marc was great, loved him, but it was clear that she was Peyton's dog through and through and Marc was fine with that because Harris was obviously his cat. "Great, I'm stuck with a sassmaster," he said with an overly dramatic sigh before he gave a small laugh. "I think it's adorable." And it was. He could just imagine a younger Peyton deciding that it was the perfect name for their cat. He smiled a little and gave a tiny little shrug, the best he could do with his injuries at the moment. "I don't know... I just wanna see 'em." Maybe because he loved Peyton and he wanted to see into things he would never have gotten to see otherwise. And maybe he wanted to just brood slightly on the fact that Peyton, for the most part, had such a happy, loving family and childhood. Like with Gabi and James, they were little glimpses into a world that Marc hadn't ever really gotten to know overly well except through others.

Marc closed his eyes at the gentle touch to his hair, at the way Peyton's hand stroked through it, and at the soft touch against his cheek. There were many things that he wanted to do right now, but he was okay with just this. So long as he got to feel that gentle touch, what else did he need? He made a soft sound of contentment and then laughed lightly at Peyton's words before he turned his head just a little at Peyton carding his fingers through his hair. "I guess that's as good of a plan as any." He kept his eyes closed for the moment, just enjoying the gentle touch and the feel of Peyton's strong fingers working through his hair. He opened his eyes a little, but just enough so that he could shift closer to Peyton and bury his face against Peyton's shoulder in pleased embarrassment. "I just get excited sometimes," he mumbled the words out. And he just didn't know what to do with his limbs when he got that excited, didn't even realize half the time how much he was going on and on. With Peyton, it was easier to do that, too, because Peyton just listened and he never made it awkward. Marc licked at his lips a little as Peyton ran his thumb over them and he gave a small smile to Peyton. "I'm glad," was all he said again. He was so very glad because what if Peyton hadn't wanted to move? What if he had never come back? He gave a small laugh. "Harris is my secret agent of course he would betray you," he teased gently, pleased at Peyton's forlorn expression and tone and the way he kept playing along. "You can't make me-mmm.." he broke off in a happy hum as Peyton kissed him again, letting his eyes slip closed, wishing he could run his fingers through Peyton's hair like he usually did.

"Well, you can only blame yourself if you knew what was gonna happen but you did it anyways," Marc told him, smiling slightly at the loud sigh. He was glad Peyton wasn't going to take him in the least bit serious... because what on earth would he have done if he did? Marc could never, never give that ring back. A tiny, uncomfortable part of him said that he honestly wouldn't be able to do it no matter what. Even if Peyton turned out all wrong for him. Even if Peyton decided to leave. Marc wouldn't be able to return the ring. Marc gave another laugh at Peyton's moaned out words. "No, see, it's second in line because you're second to none, baby." For Marc, honestly, that was probably the smoothest line that he had ever uttered. He wasn't particularly good at flirting or anything remotely like pickup lines, after all. He was almost proud of himself for that one. Marc loved that smile. Sometimes it was tired and worn, but sometimes it was bright and happy; sometimes it was right in between. No matter what, though, it always filled him with warmth to see it. "Baby," he breathed the nickname out again, giving Peyton another look full of all the love that he felt, so much love that some days he was sure his chest might just burst. "I don't know if I can even compare how much I love you to anything,' he said honestly.
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Peyton Brooks
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Peyton breathed in Marc's scent, inhaling it slowly. It was stupid to think but he was glad Marc was here now. Back in the hospital, everything had smelled like...well, a hospital. It had the overly disinfected smell to it and underneath that came the smell that Peyton had associated with death. Logically he knew that wasn't right. Death didn't have a proper smell to because it was an action, but it was like how some people said things smelled like summer or fall. Everything around it reminded you and that was what it was from then on, that was the smell it carried. And for awhile there, Marc seemed to be coated in the smell. It had overwhelmed any scent of home, it had been replaced inch by inch the longer he had stayed there. Peyton didn't even need to be a werewolf like James to get agitated by the scent. Now, though, now he was beginning to smell like he was suppose to. Now he was beginning to smell like home again. "<b>Well if my man thinks so, then it's probably true.</b>" Nothing was certain, nothing was absolute. One of the hardest things Peyton ever had to learn was that just because he wanted something didn't mean that it was going to last. That was the hardest thing in the world to remember and sometimes he still forgot. Sometimes he fell back into the mentality of 'but I want it'. He wanted to be with Marc always, but he had to be happy with right now, the future now and hopefully the distant future. He laughed as Marc wrinkled his nose, said he hadn't said he loved it. "<b>You said 'not sure if want', it didn't mean you <i>didn't</i> love it.</b>" It was always an experiment, honestly. Peyton had never really dated a person who had cared about his facial hair as much – or, at least, dated someone who had verbalized what they liked. At least Peyton himself liked the goatee he had, which was why he had groomed for it so much. Plus Marc seemed to really like it and if Marc really liking how Peyton did his facial hair got him chin scratches, well, who was he to really protest? "<b>It's because someone I know fucking loves cats,</b>" he made sure to give it the most solemn of words, just like Marc had done countless times. He chuckled softly as Marc grumbled out a 'granted'. "<b>It's cute,</b>" he added sincerely. It was. Maybe it was a weird thing to find cute but it had been one of those things that just made Peyton laugh.
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"<b>thank goodness it fits me. What would I do if it didn't? Shave probably.</b>" Maybe he should be a little annoyed that his options with Marc seemed to be his goatee and clean shaven. But the way Peyton saw it, if he really hated the issue of grooming the goatee, it was just easier and neater to shave. It was less than five minutes to use the electric razor as he was getting ready for work, it take maybe a little longer with a proper razor. He had options available to him. But Marc loved the goatee, which was good enough for Peyton. "<b>He sure wanted to be when you got home.</b>" It was actually kind of funny to watch. Marc had gotten home and Harris had watched from some out of the way corner, positively glaring as Marc got settled into bed. Then when Marc was settled and Peyton was busy with keeping Snickers calm, Harris had wandered onto that bed and proceeded to yowl at Marc, lying just out of reach and turning his back on Marc for abandoning him. But then it was followed by the cat stretching out and putting his paws on Marc. It had lead to Marc whispering 'I'm double blessed' in such an awed tone. "<b>Oh it's one of <i>those</i> things. The 'impossible to explain' so you get out of explaining your reasoning. I see how you are.</b>" Peyton knew that feeling. Maybe it had something to do with stereotypes; people had a set mind on what dogs and cats were – dogs were the goofy animals that bounded around or the tall and proud narrowed eyed guard animals, while cats were the snooty animals, or the graceful and high class animals. Some people just had something that clicked with the stereotype. "<b>Well sometimes I would like something a little bit smaller that's not going to knock me over.</b>" Snickers had done it once or twice and Peyton was always grateful he managed to get his gun belt hung up before his dog came tearing through the house to barrel over him. A dog-cat would have at least been small. "<b>I learned it from watching you,</b>" he teased because Marc was always the more sassy of the two of them. At least when you set him in front of a computer with all his friends. The stuff he had heard come from the conversations...He snorted slightly. "<b>Good to know you think kid me is adorable.</b>" It was teasing but it was actually true too, he had found. He liked knowing that Marc found it cute. It wasn't something that would ever come up in their lives again logically – they weren't kids anymore and who they were as kids wasn't who they were now – but it was nice hearing that he was a cute kid or that he had done something particularly cute in the eyes of Marc. He reached out, stroking a hand over Marc's cheek. "<b>When we visit, I'll tell him you want to see then. He'll be so excited.</b>"
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He smiled as Marc closed his eyes, as he seemed to relax into the touch. That was important, Peyton had found. That had been something he had learned the very moment Marc had been officially and properly aware at the hospital. Marc being able to relax and be comfortable was going to be a sliding scale for months; he wasn't going to be "properly" relaxed, it was going to take a long time before Marc was without pain at all. So Peyton had to be able to take what he got; after all, it was easy for him in comparison to Marc. "<b>Didn't I tell you? I was plan guy in my squad. Peyton the plan guy. Granted, I wasn't <i>nearly</i> as good as Dan the plan man, but that was the cross I had to bear.</b>" Marc shifted closer, burrowing against Peyton's shoulder and Peyton felt love. He felt happy and content that they could do this still, that Marc had the strength and the ability. "<b>I know. I love when you're excited,</b>" he said. A moment later he gave a considering look. "<b>I love when you're happy. I love when you get focused.</b>" Because those were all...perfect Marc moments. Marc had ways of being excited and happy and focused that were unique to him and Peyton didn't think he could ever handle someone else trying to mimic it. He gave a small smile as Marc said he was glad. "<b>You always will be, baby,</b>" he said. It was one of those things he wanted to make sure Marc understood. He wanted to make sure Marc knew how much he was worth to Peyton and to the world because most days he didn't think Marc understood. No one ever knew there worth, it seemed, and Marc knew it even less. "<b>How could I not have seen this clever betrayal that was so clear from day one? No,</b>" he drew the word out a tiny bit, dropping his head down. It was easy to pull out of that head hanging, though, when there was potential to kiss Marc. He let the kiss linger, not having it be searching or deep, but was thorough. "<b>Have I made you yet?</b>" he whispered against Marc's lips.
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He gave out another long drawn out sigh that he remembered Snickers giving when he told her that no, none of the burgers he had made were for her. "<b>I just wanted my man to be happy. If only I had worried about my own happiness too, woe.</b>" Peyton, at least, had accepted that whenever he had given Marc that computer – whether it was right now or on his birthday or over Christmas – that Marc was going to hyper focus on it. It was a new computer, one had to get use to it, had to get it broken in. Marc would have to put all the programs he wanted on it, he had to test the video watching quality, he had to test out what games would run best on it. Sure some things he'd probably avoid doing right now due to constraints, but it was still the general idea of being second best for awhile. Even with Marc saying he was second to none. "<b>What a smooth operator. Possibly as smooth as this computer. I think they said it had a smooth operating system. Is that a thing? I didn't have my resident tech guy there to go 'okay, dad',</b>" he teased. He pressed a kiss to Marc's temple to show he was teasing. He knew a computer would never replace him outside of attention and that would only be a little while. Marc liked computers and games and the like, but maybe it was egotistical to think that Marc liked real life cuddling even more than that. He smiled as Marc breathed out the pet name and that look couldn't be mistaken for anything but the love Marc had to give. "<b>That's even better than all the stars in the sky. Means there hasn't been anything that even exists yet to put your love against.</b>"
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Marc Miller

A part of Marc almost... swelled up with some sort of pleasure and pride when Peyton spoke and called him his man. It wasn't anything new. It wasn't as if Peyton had never called him that before. Yet every time he did it, Marc couldn't help but to feel pleased. It was such a simple phrase but it said so very much at the same time. Marc couldn't think of anything much better than being called Peyton's man. "I know it's true," Marc said easily. It didn't matter that he knew there was nothing absolute in the world. After all, look what had almost happened to him. Yet he wanted and needed to believe that he and Peyton would be together forever. Especially right now. Later he could go back to knowing that sometimes the future might not work out. Right now, he wanted to believe that it always would and they would always be happy together. It was too much effort and heartache to think otherwise. Marc just continued to wrinkle his nose up as Peyton laughed at him this time. "It's not an overly positive phrase," he protested when Peyton said that it hadn't meant that he didn't love it either. Of course, Marc technically had no say in it. It was Peyton's face and Peyton's body. If he really wanted a beard he could have a beard because Marc didn't really have a right to demand anything. Peyton was easy going though and he liked making Marc happy. He hadn't seemed too fussed to trim it all off and back to the familiar goatee that he'd had before, which Marc was more than thankful for. He just really, really liked the look on him. Marc continued to scratch his fingers idly through Peyton's goatee. When the other man spoke so solemnly he couldn't stop himself from laughing. It actually hurt to laugh, although he didn't say that much otherwise Peyton would worry even more. It jarred his ribs but he couldn't make himself stop. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to have something to laugh about at all even if it made him wince. "I especially love big cats named Peyton," he said fondly, just looking at the other man. He ducked his head a little as Peyton said it was cute, just mumbling out something that wasn't really words at all.

"If it didn't fit you then something else would," Mark said sagely. After all, Peyton looked good with a clean shaven face. It wasn't as if he only looked good with just a goatee. Honestly, Peyton looked good no matter what. Marc had always thought that, even when he had been hesitant over the beard. Peyton was just amazing in every way so far as Marc was concerned. He gave a small laugh. "I was surprised." Harris wasn't a distant cat but neither was he the kind of cat to come running and yowling when you came home. Marc hadn't known if Harris would have even missed him all that much... but apparently Harris knew quite well who his human was and he had not been happy at his extended absence. The cat had told him so quite readily from his spot just out or reach on the bed. Once he had said his fill, Harris had come closer and he hadn't really left Marc all that much since. He disappeared once in awhile to do cat things, to probably go eat and drink and other things. Most of the time, however, he was curled up on the bed or on one of the pillows or on top of the dresser - somewhere that he could keep an eye on Marc at all times. Obviously he wasn't about to let his human go wandering off for weeks on end again. Marc wrinkled his nose at Peyton again as he teased him. "Well, good. You know so I don't have to keep explainin' it," he said almost cheerfully. He knew Peyton understood though. Peyton always understood an awful lot of things about Marc that Marc never had to explain at all. "That's how Snickers Bickers says she loves you though." She had wanted to do the same to Marc when he had come home but Peyton had put a stop to that. Snickers had had to wait until Marc had been settled in on the bed before she was allowed to greet him, which she had been unhappy about but there hadn't been much of a choice. "Well, at least I taught you something," he said with some exasperation. That was the one downside of Peyton being older. Marc certainly didn't have much to one up him on when it came to learned skills. "I think adult you is adorable sometimes, too," Marc told him with an almost shy smile. Not that Peyton was a man who screamed 'adorable'. More 'handsome' and 'strong' but sometimes he did adorable things - like wrapping Harris up in a blanket and going 'oh no my purrito' when he had escaped. That was nothing short of adorable. He turned his head a little into the touch. "I'd like that a lot," he said, honestly.

Marc was silent for a moment as Peyton just stroked his cheek, as he relaxed and resisted falling asleep; he took pleasure in the small moment together. A moment where no one was worrying about anything and they were just... together. He opened his eyes again as Peyton spoke and he just watched him with curious eyes before he spoke in a curious sort of wonder, "Did you really have someone called Dan the plan man?" he asked, his words almost a whisper. He just stared at Peyton still in a long almost awed sort of silence. He kept his face quite firmly buried against Peyton's shoulder, glad that he had this outlet still even if he didn't have many available to him at the moment. He tried to not squirm when Peyton said he loved when he was excited and happy and focused, tried to not feel as if he might have a heart attack on top of everything else because of how much love he was feeling. "I love a lot of things about you, too," he mumbled. He could go on for days, it felt like. Marc just gave him a small smile at the kiss and at the words. "So will you," he said, simply. Because Peyton was the world to him. He smiled a little at Peyton's exaggerated words and sigh. "You should have known," he told the older man. "Cats are always sneaky." Despite the drowsiness and the pain that was going to be a companion for another month or so, Marc was enjoying this much at last. He was ready to keep on teasing Peyton but the older man had made that quite impossible. "I don't know. You might have to try more," he said with a small noise of happiness along with a shiver at the closeness of Peyton's lips and the low timbre of his voice.

Marc gave a tiny little wriggle again as Peyton referred to him as his man. "You don't have to worry about your own happiness because I'll take care of making you happy," he promised, although he knew that it wasn't the best thing to promise. After all, the other person in the relationship shouldn't be your only source of happiness. Then again, they obviously weren't being serious right now... or, at least, not fully. The only thing he regretted about all of this was the simple fact that he really couldn't fully appreciate the gift and use it in the way it was intended. Not until his wrist healed. "Smooth operating system, oh my God. You're not allowed to computer shop ever again, dad," Marc teased him right back gently. Peyton wasn't lost when it came to technology, but he wasn't as well versed as Marc was either. He didn't study all the new phones and computers like Marc did. He just looked at something Marc said and bought it, usually. Marc just continued to look at Peyton with all the love that he felt for the other man. "I don't think there ever will be, baby. Not in all this world."
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Peyton Brooks
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He moved his hand to stroke through Marc's hair, pushing the shaggy strands back. When Marc got better, he was going to have to tease him and tell him to get a hair cut, though he supposed it all depended on just how long it got. Really, the shaggy haired look worked for Marc. It was endearing. "<b>Such confidence is hard to refute,</b>" he said with a serious and considering tone. It was a little nerve wracking to have that confidence from Marc, he had to admit. He didn't remember the last time he had someone be confident in who he was and what he did. All of his partners of the past had been...well, realist seemed like a harsh word, it implied that Marc was lying to himself or something like that. But maybe it had just been he had never given his partners of the past reason to believe that he was anything...more. He had been an army man and constantly in and out of their lives. Marc was the first one he had ever been with for more than a couple of months. "<b>But it's not an overly negative phrase either,</b>" he countered. It was fun to do these kinds of things to Marc, honestly. Peyton firmly believed that he wasn't <i>old</i>. He was thirty eight, old was...he didn't know, fifty or sixty. It was the one comfort he had allowed himself most days. But when your boyfriend was in his early twenties, it had a way of making you <i>feel</i> old. Marc talked about a lot of things and did a lot of things that Peyton couldn't understand, things that were apparently the hip and new things that were for his generation. Peyton had watched his parents and other adults when he was younger and he had told himself he was never going to be like them, he was never going to be that adult that tried to insert himself into a world where he didn't belong. Unfortunately with a boyfriend who was head deep in it, he couldn't exactly avoid it. Then had come the realization of how much fun it was to tease Marc with his lack of knowledge, taking the phrases Marc used and putting his own twists on it, asking stupid questions about things that (to Marc) were obvious. He let his eyes slip closed briefly as Marc continued to scratch his goatee, even as he told himself to tell Marc to stop. Marc needed to rest, Marc needed to lie back and not do much...at the same time, he knew that he personally would be needing the normality of doing things like that. If he was banged up as badly as Marc, he would need to do something that he had always done because he would go crazy if he didn't. He reopened them, though, when Marc laughed and gave his fond words. "<b>Meow,</b>" he offered teasingly. Personally he didn't see himself as much of a cat, but that could have been the fact that he had always preferred dogs and surely, a man who preferred dogs would behave more like a dog, right? He leaned in as Marc mumbled out nonsense words, kissing his forehead.
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"<b>I think you're a bit biased, baby, but a man likes to be told he has something that would work for him, so I'll let it slide.</b>" It wasn't like Marc was saying <i>everything</i> would fit for him. There was a big difference between "you'll find something else" and "everything you do works". After all, Marc hadn't been overly thrilled with the full beard, but he hadn't said it was bad. Peyton himself had thought he could take it or leave it. Personally, he felt he could live with just the goatee or clean shaven, there were worse things to maintain after all. "<b>Cats are mysterious creatures that I'll never fully understand.</b>" Give him a dog, personally. A dog was one of those animals that was always excited to see you, any time when you were gone was too much. You were gone for a week? Well that was even worse. They would clamber and bound around until they could be right up against you. You always kind of knew where you stood when you had a dog. Not that cats <i>wouldn't</i> be happy to see you but it was one of those things that you had to be willing to read between the lines. But it was obvious that Harris had missed Marc. Hell, Peyton had known that in the weeks following the accident. The few times that Peyton had been bullied out of the hospital (by Lillian, by Clyde, by Connie) to return home, Harris had seemed lonely enough that he had come to Peyton and curled up in his lap without prompting. It seemed like they weren't suppose to talk about that now, like they had had a one night stand and now Harris expected him to go back to the status quo. It had been fine when Marc was gone, but now that Marc was back, they didn't know each other anymore of course. "<b>Of course, that's the reason,</b>" he teased. He knew what Marc meant. A lot of the time, it was fairly easy to follow Marc's reasoning. It was something he had found odd when they had first started their relationship – Marc would say something a bit odd and would try to explain it but every time he tried, it got more muddled...and yet Peyton had found himself considering it and it had made a certain amount of sense. "<b>We need to teach her a gentle form of love,</b>" he laughed. But it was hard with Snickers, he had found. She was like this perfect storm for Peyton to let her get away with anything – she had been part of a hoarding situation where the dogs had essentially bullied her, she only had three legs, she seemed uncharacteristically cautious when she was given food and treats and toys because she was so use to someone taking it from her. All these sorts of things had made Peyton just want to spoil her...and how could he scold a dog that was happy to see him? This had been the first time he had stressed that it wasn't okay to go jumping on people and that had been for Marc's sake. "<b>You teach me a lot of things, Marc.</b>" It had a teasing sort of air to it, but it was true too. He hesitated to say that Marc had taught him to love, but he had taught him a different kind of love. Marc taught him how to relax. Marc taught him how much he was willing to do for someone he loved. He gave a small grin as Marc said adult him was adorable sometimes too. "<b>I'm glad,</b>" he said easily, leaning in so he could steal a kiss. He wanted to tease Marc, to ask 'only sometimes?', but with that shy of a smile, Peyton found he couldn't tease in the face of that. Marc was an oddity at times; he never gave off the vibe of shy (at least not anymore), but there were times...times he did or said things that reminded Peyton that Marc was young and he <i>was</i> a nervous, shy person naturally. He didn't want to go stealing Marc's thunder in the name of a tease. "<b>Then we'll do it that next time.</b>" He just wasn't sure when "next time" would be right now. His life had pretty much involved just taking care of Marc as he healed for the moment.
<p>
He watched Marc for a long moment, watching and waiting to see if he would slip off into sleep. He still did that a fair amount, though Peyton supposed he could never be very upset. Not right now. The doctors were saying that would be normal; slowly but surely he would stop sleeping so much but it would take awhile. In the hospital, it wasn't exactly odd for Marc to have fallen asleep mid-word. "<b>well,</b>" he said slowly, "<b>he was kind of an "everything" man. I mean, really, how can anyone be anything with Dan the man around. Granted, Dan hated it because he had to be <i>everything</i>. He was always going 'guys, just because you say that doesn't mean I'm it'. Then he'd do it anyway.</b>" There were plenty of days that Peyton was glad he had left the army, knowing it had been time, but there were plenty more days where he missed it. Mostly the people. He stroked a hand through Marc's hair, feeling himself relax bit by bit. They were coming back to how they use to be, he told himself. It was taking some time but they were getting there. "<b>I'm glad,</b>" he said seriously. The natural response, he felt, was to joke and tease and say he sure hoped Marc loved things about him, but now didn't feel like the right time. That was for when they were both healthy and not injured. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to Marc's forehead as he said so would Peyton. It was good to hear, he felt. "<b>I really should have, but, you know, I just never was a proper cat owner I guess.</b>" He had owned a cat, technically, in his youth but it had always been more Dalton's cat. They had found it together, begged to keep it together, but Dalton had been the one who had fed it and took care of it while Peyton had gotten disillusioned that it wasn't, somehow, magically a dog. "<b>Oh? Hm,</b>" he rumbled out the noise before he pressed another kiss to Marc's lips. He let a moment pass, then another before he kissed him again.
<p>
"<b>Well, with someone like you, then I don't have to worry at all.</b>" A part of him knew he shouldn't be encouraging that – they were a partnership, they were meant to work together through life – but at the same time, it felt nice to hear. Like someone saying they would always love you, you sort of knew it had its own stipulations to, that there were circumstances that could be out of their control, but it made you feel warm, it made you feel special. He laughed as Marc made a comment he knew he would, going just a touch over the top on joking. "<b>Well how else am I suppose to get you gifts now?</b>" He was never going to be like Marc, that much was clear. He just didn't have the interest in them. A computer was needed for internet and documents, a phone was for making calls and text messages. Marc, on the other hand, didn't quite live his life through the computer...but he had his video games and now, most of his friends lived out of state. Sure, they were close enough friends that they all had each others' phone numbers, but the only ones Peyton really remembered Marc calling with any regularity was Gabi and Prosper. It just seemed easier to send messages through whatever instant messenger they had. He cupped Marc's face softly, gently, leaning down so he could kiss him. "<b>Good. Means what we have is all the more special.</b>" If they broke up, that might change but...for one, Peyton didn't really want to go chancing fate with that and for another, he felt a bit like they weren't ever going to break up. He supposed every couple felt that way until they did.
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Marc Miller

"You'd better not even try," he said, closing his eyes as Peyton stroked his hand through his hair. He knew it was foolish to be so absolutely certain that he would be together forever with Peyton, but it was what he felt. It was what he believed and hoped for. It was, quite honestly, what he wanted most out of life. He knew that 'forever' was never a thing that anyone could promise, but he wanted as long as he could get. If that was forty years, then he wanted forty years. He would take everything that he could get and he would love Peyton as long as he could. He didn't allow himself to think about things like what had happened to him, about Peyton being hurt, about their breaking up. It wasn't in the equation, as far as he was concerned. Not healthy, he was sure, but he had to be able to sleep sometime and not always be fretting. He opened his eyes again as Peyton spoke and Marc wrinkled his nose at him. "Trust me, it's way more negative than positive," he told the older man, unwinding enough to stick his tongue out at him at the end of his statement. Peyton loved to tease him as if he had no idea about anything Marc talked about when the truth was that he understood and knew a lot of things. Maybe not as much as Marc might, and there were definitely some things Peyton was genuinely confused on, but he still understood a lot of it or had heard it elsewhere. He just seemed to delight in making Marc lecture him and play argue with him over it. It was such a dad thing that it sometimes took Marc back and he had to just pause and blink over it before he continued to argue his stance. He gave a laugh - a painful laugh, but he didn't care because it felt good to laugh - as Peyton gave an exaggerated "meow" in response to his words. "A cat who doesn't know how to sound like a cat, I guess," he teased the older man before he closed his eyes again as Peyton leaned in and pressed a kiss against his forehead. He gave a soft sigh at the action, letting it momentarily sweep him away in the feelings that it always caused.

"It's not biased," he protested. "It's fact. You look good with a goatee and you look good with stubble and you look good clean shaven. That's like, three ways you look good. The beard was... well, okay. If those didn't work you probably could have tried, you know, a mustache or mutton chops or somethin'. It's not like you don't have options." He wasn't saying that Peyton would look drop dead sexy with every facial hair style there was - though Marc privately thought he probably would be sexy no matter what - but he did have things that worked for him very well. He didn't think that was a bias. He thought that was more just straight facts than anything else. Marc gave a small laugh, "You make it sound like they're aliens or something." Marc understood cats fairly well. Of course, he understood dogs, too. Maybe he just understood animals because they acted like him a lot. Get excited, get scared, want attention and pets... he could identify with those kinds of things. He could even understand some of the stand-offish ways that cats acted although he was very privately glad that Harris wasn't as bad as some cats. He had his moments but he generally enjoyed being pet and curling up in Marc's lap. He wrinkled his nose at Peyton's tease and stuck out his tongue at him again. "Exactly." Maybe it should be strange the way Peyton understood him but he had stopped questioning it because it was perfect, so far as he was concerned. He gave a tiny snort at Peyton's words. "That is easier said than done." Snickers just... wanted to love you. She was bullheaded and stubborn and would slam into you to show you how much she cared. She had been quite obviously hurt when Peyton had told her she couldn't see Marc when he came home. Marc wished he could tell her but for all his words she didn't seem to understand. "You mean like the difference between Gryffindor and Hogwarts?" Marc asked as Peyton said that he taught him a lot of things. He knew Peyton meant more than that, but it made him want to squirm to even think of talking about it. Not that he minded but... some days he couldn't contain it and, right now, he wasn't really up to moving more than a tiny bit. He smiled a little at the words and at the kiss, giving a sigh. "My adorable big Peyton cat," he said, only partly teasing the other man. He smiled at Peyton's promise, almost beaming. "I look forward to it." It would be months before he would feel well enough to travel, though, he was sure. But he had his promise and he knew Peyton wouldn't go back on it.

It was hard to fight the sleep. He knew that he shouldn't, really. The doctors had explained to both himself and Peyton that it would happen a lot because his body was trying to heal and healing took a lot of energy. In the hospital, it felt like that was almost all he had done. Between being in pain and on medication, Marc would slip off into slip in mid-sentence. He had fallen asleep chatting on the phone to one of his friends and Peyton or Gabi had had to tell them what happened. He distinctly remembered talking to James, laughing about something, and then it seemed as if he blinked and Curtis was there. He had blearily blurted out 'what the hell you changed, James' which had earned him a concerned look from Curtis. He was getting better, slowly, but he still got tired so easily. He fought the sleep, though, because he wanted this time with Peyton. He forced his eyes back open and he chortled a little at the words. "It's good to know your jokes were terrible even when you were younger," he teased Peyton. He had told the other man that he had 'dad jokes' more than once and he still meant it. It just seemed like something Peyton almost took pride in. He smiled and made a soft sound as his hair was pet. "I'm glad, too," he said, simply. Glad he loved things about Peyton, glad Peyton loved things about him. He made a soft sound at the lips against his forehead, fighting again against the urge to just slip into a doze at the content and comfort that he felt. "Here's your first lesson: they don't usually like being wrapped up in towels," he teased the older man. Harris, at least, had just looked mildly annoyed before he abandoned ship. Some other cats would have probably bitten and scratched their way out. He sunk back into the pillows as Peyton made a questioning noise and then kissed him again and then once more. He sighed out softly before he lifted his right hand up to mime clutching at his chest. "Ya got me," he whispered out in a larger southern drawl than he usually had.

Marc couldn't stop himself from smiling happily at the comment. He knew it was probably terrible of both of them but he didn't care. He was happy and he liked making Peyton happy. He didn't think that was specifically wrong. He knew that Peyton - and he - had to find their happiness elsewhere outside of a relationship, too... and they did. Marc had his friends and his games, Peyton had his friends and camping. They had the dog and the cat. It was just that the majority of their happiness revolved around one another was all... and Marc would go out of his way to make sure that Peyton had all the happiness he deserved. "I will fill you out a list of specific things to get, oh my God," he said again, pushing somewhat at Peyton's face with his good hand. Honestly, Peyton was very good at listening to what Marc said and getting exactly that. He might not know the finer details, but he knew that Marc knew and to listen to Marc. He let his eyes flutter closed as Peyton leaned in to kiss him. "It is," he sighed out against the other man's lips. He could never not have Peyton in his life. He knew that was a bad thing to think - and God, did it sound like James and Rosemary - but it was true. He loved him too much. He couldn't imagine a world without him in it.
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Peyton Brooks
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<b>I bow to the master,</b>" he offered as if he had weighed everything and found irrefutable proof that Marc was right. And he knew he would try. Other partners, he might have found himself saying it in the way that people always seemed to mean; that they were patting someone down, that they were assuring them about forever, but they didn't mean forever. Forever, in relationship terms, usually seemed to mean a couple of years and then all memory of the things they had promised were forgotten, put in a cardboard box like the stuff they were moving out of the house. For Marc, though, he wanted to try. He wanted to have that forever because Marc had made himself important in Peyton's life. Oh he figured he could survive without Marc, just like he was sure Marc could survive without him, but he didn't <i>want</i> to. He didn't want to remember a time before Marc, a time after Marc. He was sure that probably wasn't exactly healthy, but it was what he wanted. He loved Marc; he could have things that didn't involve him, but he wanted most of his life to revolve around Marc and being with him. That was the point of a relationship, wasn't it? "<b>Mmm,</b>" he said in an immediate response to Marc declaring it was more negative, "<b>I think I'm going to take it as a positive thing.</b>" That sort of response always made Marc laugh and declare he couldn't do that, as if there were some hard and fast rules about how one could interpret internet culture and the meaning. He was sure out there somewhere there <i>were</i> people like that, people that would do it. He doubted Marc was one of them but...he was still fun to tease. He supposed it went hand in hand with just liking to watch Marc get flustered, to quickly defend whatever it was that Peyton claimed to not understand. When Marc laughed, Peyton couldn't quite keep himself from tensing as he did. He vaguely recalled what felt like ages ago Marc laughing, then groaning and telling Peyton to make him laugh because it hurt. Was he hurting now? Should he try to get Marc to stop? The tease Marc gave was normal, but...he could feel his responding smile get a little tense, a little strained at the edges. "<b>Well, I know when I've been insulted,</b>" he teased. He thought about saying something about knowing when he wasn't wanted, but he couldn't even joke about leaving Marc right now.
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"<b>Are we gonna have to go poll our friends? Is that what this is leading to? A bias is a bias, baby. But what I'm hearing is I need to forget to shave until I have a full beard again and try out mutton chops. I think that would work really well for me.</b>" Admittedly he had done stuff like that before. When he had gotten home from a tour for a break, he had always been supremely lax in shaving, letting his beard grow because damned if he wasn't sick of shaving. Then either Tibby would tell him he looked homeless or it would be almost time to go back and...well, a couple of times he had thought it would be amusing to try different styles. The mustache had been a no go from the start, he found. "<b>I'm not entirely sure they <i>aren't</i> aliens,</b>" he countered. He supposed that was just always going to be a thing. Maybe it wasn't so much he didn't understand them as he needed different things. He could understand that cats tended to be solitary creatures, not fully intended to be pack animals, but he didn't understand the why much. He didn't understand how deeply it ran, he couldn't expound on the fact that yes of course cats were descended from this feline and they were known for being like this. He didn't feel good when he came home and Harris ignored him; it was like having a husband or wife that would refuse to talk to you because you know what you did. Meanwhile dogs were always excited to see you, they always wanted to be your friend and do things with you. "<b>you keep that up and your tongue's going to dry out,</b>" he teased, "<b>no matter <i>how</i> right you are.</b>" Was this how it was to be a part of a working couple? He understood Marc in a way that he didn't think he could have understood anyone else. Or maybe they had just been together long enough that Peyton had learned the ebbs and flows of Marc's personality and how he usually meant things. "<b>But I'm sure with you at the head of the ship, she'll learn it.</b>" Marc had a way with animals, he had found. Peyton loved Snickers, but he felt sometimes Marc understood her better. It hadn't been uncommon for her to have done something that he had thought a bit odd and Marc just made an off hand comment about the fact that he would have done it too for the reason that had found. Usually it turned out to be the right assessment and Peyton had to wonder if Marc wasn't secretly some shapeshifter that knew how to get inside the head of a dog or cat. "<b>Look,</b>" he said in response, "<b>everyone always talks about Gryffindor, how was I suppose to know that that wasn't the school?</b>" It was an easy thing to tease Marc with and he had found that it was even easier to follow Marc's desires. If he wanted to make light of it right now, then he would. He gave a small smile at Marc's words. "<b>I dunno if I'd call myself adorable, but from you, I'll take it.</b>" Adorable, he felt, was reserved for people like Marc, who did cute things, who were shy and easily excitable. He took Marc's good hand, holding it gently and carefully so he could lift it to his lips and gently kissed the skin there.
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A part of him wanted to tell Marc to just go to sleep, stop fighting it and let himself rest. There wasn't a point in forcing himself to be awake after all, but...selfishly, selfishly Peyton wanted this time for him, Selfishly, he wanted to sit and talk and look into those beautiful blue eyes and act like everything was normal. But Peyton was an adult and he needed to not be selfish. At the same time, he told himself he needed to do what was best for Marc. If Marc didn't want to sleep, he couldn't make him. He comforted himself in knowing that right now, if Marc's body wanted him to sleep, he'd be out like a light without Peyton doing much. "<b>Look, there is a reason Martin extended the offer of being part of the Dad Council even without me being a dad. He knew my potential started at a young age. I'm pretty sure I'm the chosen one in that respect – the dad who's not a dad.</b>" Personally Peyton wasn't sure how it had happened. None of the jokes sounded like dad jokes, just...stupid little jokes and comments that made him laugh. He had been almost insulted when Minty explained that dad jokes were technically unoriginal or unfunny jokes told by middle aged men. He had been more insulted at the thought of them being unfunny. After all, hadn't plenty of people laughed at the jokes? He remembered a few younger cadets that had come into the army just staring at him for a long moment before walking off to laugh over a joke. When Marc said he was glad too, he kissed him again, maybe as a reward for saying the right thing, maybe just because he had no other words to say to that but he had wanted to show Marc he loved that he had said it. "<b>Oh, they don't?</b>" he twisted his face into something like consideration, "<b>Is that where I've been going wrong all this time? Jeez.</b>" It had just been one of those things, he supposed. Harris had gotten wet and in Peyton's infinite wisdom, he had thought he could help towel off the cat like he would have a dog. What had wound up happening was wrapping the cat in a towel and doing the "dad joke" again of a purrito. Apparently it was still remembered to this day in Marc's circle because it had caused Marc to go lie down and laugh. "<b>See, I know how to get my way,</b>" he teased gently.
<p>
The smile Marc gave him was worth everything that he gone through. It was worth every hardship, it was worth every trial. Every moment in the army when he had struggled with himself and his faith and the reality of the world was worth it just for that smile. Marc didn't give it as often as he should have, he felt, but then it wouldn't have been so special. Even with that logic, he wanted to see it more, he wanted Marc to have more reason to smile at him like that. He couldn't stop his laugh at Marc's comment, pushing at his face. "<b>But then it won't be a surprise,</b>" he teasingly complained. He supposed it would still be, though. Marc would fill out the list and one of two things would happen. Either he would forgot completely that he had filled out a list for Peyton to use when it came to computers or he would convince himself that Peyton would never in a million years get him that computer. It was true that it was a hard won gift, not something that Peyton would have normally gotten him. They were well off for money between Marc's job, Peyton's job and his pension, but they had that because they were careful with the money they had. They didn't go buying expensive computers for no reason. But this had been for Marc's birthday, this had been something he had wanted to do that was extra special for him. "<b>You're my world, Marc,</b>" he found himself telling Marc as the younger man's eyes fluttered closed.
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Marc Miller

"Oh? You should do that more often." Marc said, his words mumbled but an obvious tease. If he were being honest, Peyton honestly bowed to Marc's whims a lot. Sometimes, he wondered if that were healthy, if he wasn't somehow using the older man. Then he reminded himself that there had been quite a few times where Marc had done absolutely nothing at all and yet Peyton had decided to "bow to his whims" and to agree with him or do this or that. He couldn't rightly blame himself for something when he'd had zero say in it - like Harris. He had said a few times that he loved cats, that he wanted a cat, but he had never begged Peyton for one. He had never even indicated that they should think about looking for one after they had moved in together. It had been Peyton who had shown up with the small, black kitten in hand as a surprise for Marc. It was things like that that made him realize how much he loved the older man and how much he never wanted to be away from him. Forever was a nebulous sort of a thing, but Marc wanted it anyways. Maybe he could survive without Peyton but he didn't even want to think about trying it. Maybe that wasn't healthy, but he didn't care. He just wanted to have Peyton with him. He made a sputtering sound as Peyton said he would just take it as a positive. "You can't just decide I meant it positively," he protested, giving a huff that was more suited to a dog that had been denied a walk than to a grown man. He wanted to make his lips turn down into a heavy frown or a pout, but it was hard to do that when they kept twitching with the smile that he almost always felt on his face whenever he looked at Peyton. Marc lifted his hand to gently pet against Peyton's cheek, because he could see the tenseness in his smile. He hurt again from laughing, but he wasn't going to say anything. It felt good to laugh even with the pain. He needed to be normal even for a few seconds and he didn't need Peyton to worry about something else. He hardly slept enough as it was. "Well, it's a good thing you know. It means no one has to point it out," he teased gently, even as he moved his hand back to Peyton's chin to scratch his fingers through the goatee.

"Um, excuse you, I know for a fact Gabi will agree with me," he told the other man. It was true, because he knew that Gabi thought Peyton was attractive, though she might have a differing opinion on facial hair than he did. At least when it came to Peyton. He wrinkled his nose somewhat as Peyton continued on. "Nooooo don't you dare," he said. To be honest, he couldn't even begin to picture Peyton with mutton chops or a mustache. It was like he was very firmly fixed in his brain as having a goatee. Even when he had shaved or only had stubble, there were plenty of times that Marc felt as if his brain just automatically supplied the goatee. "They are not aliens. Not unless they start talking and tell us they are anyways." Peyton just liked dogs more and Marc supposed that was okay. Really, Marc loved dogs an awful lot, too. He found himself able to understand both dogs and cats just fine. Maybe Peyton still hadn't met the right cat to let him understand them too. "Will my face get stuck that way if I make one, too?" Marc countered as Peyton teased him. He had always thought being an adult and being in a relationship was serious. It would be full of Adult Conversations. There would be lots of important things being talked about. He hadn't thought it would be like this. They had plenty of those adult conversations... but then Peyton would scoop him up and make Marc shriek with laughter at something he did. It was perfect, honestly. He couldn't imagine being without something like that. "Well, she's got a good reason to learn it now." Because she still wasn't really allowed to see Marc. Not unless Peyton was there to hold her back. They might as well start teaching her to be more gentle about things at times. If they could. "I dunno, maybe you could watch the movies or read the books?" Marc countered in another tease. He supposed Peyton had missed that craze and Marc, to some extent, had as well... but he had enjoyed it enough to be excited about some things. He was sure Peyton had picked up more than he had let on but he was always willing to make a bad joke just to see Marc's reactions. "To me you sure are," he told Peyton as he gave a small smile. Maybe not always. Usually Marc thought of him as rugged or handsome, even sexy. Sometimes, though, he did something that all Marc could think of was 'cute' or 'adorable'. He gave a small smile of his own as Peyton very gingerly lifted his good hand and pressed a soft kiss there.

Soon, he knew he was going to have to give in to the sleep. Right now, though, he wanted to stay awake. He felt... not better, not by a long shot, but better than he had been feeling. Things felt more normal than they had for several weeks and he wanted to cherish that for the moment. Soon enough, his head would dip and he would fall asleep as his body took over and decided for him that it was time to sleep. Right now, he could enjoy Peyton's voice and the look of love in his eyes. He groaned a little at his words. "God, I can't believe he did that. It just encouraged you." Frankly, the Taylors were like a second family to Marc - just like Gabi's family - and it felt nice to know that another Taylor - even if he was really a Maddison - liked Peyton enough to include him in his silly things. It was important to Marc to have them both accepted... even if he did have to listen to awful jokes all the time. His thoughts were scattered as Peyton leaned in to kiss him again and he breathed out a soft sigh of contentment at the kiss. He gave a light snort - a snort that hurt - at Peyton's words and his expression when he had pulled away. "I thought the angry yowls would have been your first clue," he said. Not that it hadn't been funny. Marc had found it hilarious, really, but he was just amazed at the fact that it had happened in the first place. "Mm... you do. You're a dangerous man, Peyton Brooks," he said, all the fondness in the world in his voice despite his words.

It was hard to not want to smile - even with the few cuts and bruises that hadn't fully faded, with the sore lips that still were scabbed over in the corner - because Peyton just made him want to smile. Peyton always made him want to smile. It was one of the best things about their relationship, he felt... just the warmth and happiness that always filled him when he looked at the other man. "It would be a surprise, duh. I wouldn't know what you'd picked off the list." To him, it made perfect sense. Though, honestly, he doubted he would ever make one because Marc didn't usually like expensive gifts. Once in awhile was nice, but too many and he started to feel as if he hadn't done anything to deserve it. He felt like he owed someone for giving him something so expensive. This laptop was practically several birthdays worth of gifts, honestly. Marc kept his eyes closed, but he reached out his good hand to Peyton, groping for a moment until he found the other man's hand. He slid their fingers together and squeezed lightly with a soft sigh. "You're my universe, Pey. My everything." And he meant every word of it, even if he knew other people would probably look askance at him for it. It didn't matter. All that mattered was Peyton.
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