The Curative Pt. 01

Hey, so I've been writing this one on my blog and GA, and it's much shorter, so I'll only be posting it here every three chapters or so. I hope you like it, and thanks for reading.

Oh, and Minute by Minute will be up in about a week, thanks for being patient and for all the wonderful comments(:

******

The house I pulled up to looked nice. Like the pictures, at least, which was a good start. Half the other places I'd looked at were garbage dumps that looked nothing like the pictures they'd put up.

Bailey jumped onto my lap, smushing the paper I was holding and slobbering all over my face.

"Bailey stop it!" I grabbed her nose and held it away from me, frowning as hard as I could into her big brown eyes. She didn't get it.

She wriggled and yipped until she was free and flopped over, begging me for a tummy rub. I acquiesced and read through the ad again. I'd talked to the guy renting out the room a few times, but he seemed pretty stiff. Still, even if he was a grouchy old man, the rent was cheap, and I was running out of time to find a place.

I hefted Bailey back over onto her seat and told her to stay, which was of course obeyed by bounding into my warm spot as soon as I got out. I walked up the walkway to the door and knocked.

A dog barked once and the door swung open. But nobody was there. I peeked inside, but all I saw was a big german shepherd smiling up at me. He padded a few feet towards the kitchen then stopped and looked back at me.

"Just follow him! I'm in the kitchen!" The deep baritone startled me, but I obeyed and followed the dog around the corner.

In front of me, washing his hands at the sink, was possibly the hottest man I'd ever laid eyes on. He was utterly masculine. Sharp, shadowed jaw line, aquiline nose, a rakish slash of a mouth, and piercing dark blue eyes that were currently staring with great annoyance into mine.

"If you keep staring, this isn't going to work."

I could feel my cheeks heating up a thousand degrees. "Sor-sorry." I blushed again and jerked my head down to stare at my feet instead.

I heard squeaking, then "Whatever, kid. It happens all the time, but if you're gonna live here, you're gonna have to get used to it."

Arrogant prick! I jerked back up to tell him just what I thought about him, but my mind went blank.

Wheelchair. That's what he was talking about. He was in a wheelchair. Oh.

"Shut your mouth, kid. Jeez. Come on." He wheeled around me and into the living room. The dog followed him, lying at his feet when he stopped.

"So-so-sorry!"

"Just come on! Sit down already."

I nervously shuffled over to the couch and sat down. Silence permeated the air. I stared down at my shaking fingers.

Finally, he sighed. "Okay, guess we should get started. This place has a downstairs, that I've obviously never seen, but if you want to check it out, the stairs are just on the other side of the kitchen. The whole space would be yours, though you'd also have to do all the furnishing and such by yourself. You said you have a dog?"

I glanced up and nodded hesitantly.

"What his name?"

"Ah, her name is B-Bailey. She's a C-Cocker Spaniel."

He grinned and leaned over to pet the German Shepherd. "This here's Mason, he's my official service dog, and running around here somewhere is Oscar, my Border Collie. He's trained too, but he's a lazy fuck. I've got two cats as well, Butch and Baxter. You wanna run down and check the space out? If you like it, we'll talk about introducing them."

I nodded and shot up, nearly running to the kitchen. I found the stairs easily and journeyed downstairs. It was completely dark since it was never used, but right then, I didn't care.

I sunk to the floor at the bottom of the steps. I stared at my hands, willing them to stop shaking. I hadn't had an episode in almost a year; this was the last thing I needed. He probably already thought I was a freak.

I took a few deep breaths and eventually managed to stand without wobbling.

I flipped up the light switch and looked around. The space was pretty nice, a decently sized bedroom and a den area that I could use for my TV. There were no windows, but as long as I had light, I could deal.

I slowly made my way back upstairs and into the kitchen, where he was opening up the oven and pulling out a sheet of oatmeal cookies.

I couldn't help giggling a little, the contrast between his personality and what he was doing was too funny.

He looked up at the noise and smirked, "So, did you like it?"

"Uhm, y-yeah. Plenty of space. So uh, B-Bailey's in my car. Should I go get her?"

He finished scraping the cookies onto a plate and held it out towards me.

"Want one?" When I shook my head, he shrugged and grabbed one for himself. "Yeah, in a second. First we should talk over some of the more technical stuff. Make yourself comfortable."

I settled down in one of the dining chairs and waited patiently for him to stop chomping down on his cookie.

"So, rent would be three-fifty a month, that still okay?" I nodded and he continued. "No friends over unless you discuss it with me, including girlfriends or whatever. Clean up after yourself, I don't wanna hafta be moving stuff out of the way when I'm rolling through here. If you get groceries and don't mind sharing, remember to put as much as possible in the lower drawers. It'll also be your job to keep the yard clean. I usually pay the kid who drops off my groceries to do it, but since you'll be here and a third of it'll be your responsibility anyways, you might as well. Okay?" He looked at me as if he dared me to challenge anything he'd said. When I just nodded again, his shoulders seemed to relax the tiniest bit.

"Ah, Mr. Rollins?" He raised an eyebrow at me and pierced me again with those eyes.

"Ah-ah I should probably tell you something first."

My breath froze in my throat.

He huffed impatiently and scowled at me. "Well, spit it out, would you?"

"I-I-I... I'm... I'm-"

"Jeez kid, how old are you?"

Startled, I told him, "Twenty-six."

Now he looked surprised, "No kiddin'? You don't look hardly old enough to drink. Go on, what were you gonna tell me before? And don't call me Mr. Rollins again. I'm hardly any older than you. It's Logan."

I pulled in a shuddering breath and blew it all out in one fast rush.

"I'm gay."

I stared down at my fingers again, which were clenched together tightly to try and quell their shaking. My mind ran through all the scenarios I was sure were going to happen. He'd throw me out, set his dog me, run me over with his wheelchair in retribution for defiling his house. Instead I got a soft snicker.

"Why would I judge you, kid? I get discriminated against enough, I wouldn't put that pain on anyone else. Besides," His eyes twinkled and his smirk pumped up to full wattage. "I'm gay too." He guffawed and rolled away towards the living room.

I sat, rolling his words over in my head.

"Wait, what?"

"Go get your dog!"

******

"Mason! Open the door!" I yelled, desperately trying not to drop the loads of grocery bags I had valiantly wrapped around my arms with a selfish wish to not make a return trip out into the burning heat. Bailey yipped at my feet, wagging her tail and holding her one little item happily between her teeth. I heard an answering bark inside, and the door swung open. I stumbled into the house and towards the kitchen.

"Close the door, goddamnit!" Logan was being his usual cranky self, obviously.

The door clicked shut as Mason obeyed, and I heard the squeaking of Logan's wheelchair as he followed me into the kitchen. I hurriedly began stuffing the groceries into the cupboards.

"Here, gimme the fridge stuff." He grabbed a bag out of my hand and snorted at the contents. Pudding and popsicles. "You're gonna get fat, boy."

I blushed and started moving faster, throwing everything into random lower drawers.

"Hey, calm down. Here's the money for the groceries." He slapped a wad of bills down on the counter and started to roll out of the room.

"I-I can't t-take that..." I said it as quietly as I could, but he still jerked to a stop and rolled back towards me.

"Why the hell not?" He crossed his arms and glared.

"M-most of it was just my prescriptions anyways..." I fidgeted with the last item, which unfortunately belonged in the cupboard directly behind him.

"Listen kid, if you're trying to be all high and mighty 'cause I'm a fucking cripple, then you can get the hell out. It's only been two weeks, I don't mind kicking you out on your ass."

"N-no! I swear, here l-look at the bill, it's all p-pretty much mine." I yanked the receipt out of my pocket and shoved it at him, my hand shaking. He grabbed it and looked it over, whistling when he saw the total.

Oh no... How stupid could I get?

"Shit kid, what d'ya need all these pills for?" He glanced up at me, then back down at the bill, murmuring.

I made a grab for the slip of paper, but he whipped it away and tucked it in his pocket.

"G-give it b-back!"

"Not till you tell me what all those are for. I'll look it up if you don't. If you're crazy or somethin' you shoulda told me before I let you move in here."

"I'm not crazy!" I yelled and slammed the box of pop-tarts down on the counter. I turned on my heel and booked it for the stairs, nearly falling over my feet on the stairs trying to get to my room. I slammed through my bedroom to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. Scrambling through all of the bottles and little boxes, I finally found the tube I was looking for. My hands shook violently as I tried to get the top off, and I barely managed to get two pills out without dropping the container. I dry swallowed and sunk back against the bathroom door, trying to calm down.

Eventually the meds took effect and when I finally stopped shaking enough to make it safely to my bed; I crawled into it and fell promptly asleep.

I awoke a few hours later to the sound of scratching at the door. Oh, Bailey. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and shuffled over to open it.

"I hear you! Get up here, boy!"

Holy shit, did he have superhuman ears?

"I said get up here!" He bellowed out again.

I shrugged down at Bailey, who yipped happily and bounded up the stairs.

Traitor.

I made my way up as slowly as possible. Hand on the railing, one step at a time. I guess I took long enough that Logan got frustrated, because he wheeled over to wait for me at the top of the stairs, frowning disapprovingly.

When I finally made it to the top, he glared at me for a second longer before yanking me down onto his lap and taking off for the living room.

"Hey! W-what!"

"Shut up, kid. Took too long."

As soon as we hit the living room rug, he shoved me off his lap and started talking.

"You piss me off. First you come in here, ask to live in my house with your goddamn female dog, then you stick down in your room all the goddamn time, and then when you finally manage to speak to me without chokin' up your words, you run outta here like a bat outta hell." He huffed and set his jaw, daring me to talk back.

I paled and scrambled to get up on the couch. "I-I'm sorry. Di-did you look up my p-prescriptions?"

He huffed again, scowling, then abruptly looked away.

"No. And I ain't gonna."

Phew. A huge wave of relief blew through me and I sagged into the couch.

"But if you start doin' any crazy stuff, I won't hesitate to pull that fuckin' receipt out and look you up, got it?" He growled.

I nodded enthusiastically and tried to smile at him.

"Thank you."

He scowled again and grabbed the remote. I made to get up, but his hand whipped out and shoved me back down.

"Siddown. We're gonna watch football. The Texans are on tonight."

I couldn't help groaning and throwing my head back against the pillows. I hated football.

The bastard snickered.

******   Logan hadn't brought up the prescription issue again, thankfully. Things had gotten easier between us, though. I came up and watched movies or TV with him almost every night now, though I vehemently refused to watch football with him again. I swear to god my heart just about gave out when the Texans got the winning touchdown and Logan bellowed and started racing around the living room doing wheelies and scaring the hell out of the cats.

I caught him staring at me all the time now, as if he was trying to forcibly pry answers out through my ears with his eyes. The first time I caught him, I know I turned red as a tomato, and now I think he just does it to get a rise out of me.

Smarmy bastard.

It didn't help that for all his faults, he was still just as gorgeous as the day I had first seen him. If anything, his gruffness only made my crush worse.

"Ow!" That's what I get for trying to make dinner. I swear, even the pots know I'm two shots short of crazy. I wiped the scalding water of my hand and checked the noodles again before slamming a lid down on the offending pot.

"You okay, kid? I can take over, you know." Logan rolled into the kitchen and took the lid off another pot on the lowered stove. He grabbed the spatula and started poking around, picking up a long piece of meat. "What the fuck is this?"

"Bacon."

"Bacon. In spaghetti. I'm from Texas and I ain't never heard of that." He leveled a stare at me and growled "I'm hungry as a new mama penguin. You mess this up, you pay for the pizza."

My eyes went wide, "Mama penguin?"

"Shut up. I know things." He huffed at me haughtily and headed towards the living room. "Whadd'ya wanna watch tonight? It's your pick."

I turned back to my spaghetti and thought for a few minutes. We'd already been through most of my favorites, Dante's Peak, Armageddon, Twister.

"You don't pick somethin' soon, we're watching Commando again!"

I groaned. What was up with him and the Arnold?

I poked my head around the corner and waved at the movie case, "Uhm, D-Deep Impact?"

"What is it with you and the disaster crap? Where's the fun in watching some volcano kill everyone? I'd rather watch hot guys in face paint go gun crazy." He grabbed it off the case anyways and loaded it into the DVD player. "And stop stuttering."

I blushed and ducked my head, hurrying back over to the stove. Everything looked done, so I switched off the stove and turned to grab plates.

"Ah!" My foot hit the counter and I tumbled towards the floor.

Ow. Jesus that hurt. I rubbed my elbow where I had banged it on my way down and sat, pouting for a moment.

"You're the clumsiest motherfucker I've ever met." Logan smirked down at me from his chair, amusement bright in his eyes.

Yeah, well.

"F-fuck you."

He just snickered. Goddamnit he frustrated me. I pointedly ignored him as I situated my legs and tried to stand.

And fell right back down.

This time he didn't just snicker, he full out cackled.

I gave up. I could feel heat suffusing my cheeks, and childish tears jumped to my eyes. My hands started to shake and I stuffed them into my armpits so that he wouldn't see.

"Aw, come on." Logan sounded almost contrite, once his laughter died down. I heard his wheel s squeaking as he rolled towards me. I scooched myself further into the kitchen, refusing to look at him.

"Now now, none of that." Suddenly his hands closed around my upper arms and dragged me backwards and up, straight into his lap.

"Logan!"

Christ. What was he trying to do to me? I could feel the warmth of his body against me, and his arms locked around my torso, caging me in. My cheeks burned brighter than ever and I struggled against him. I was not going to embarrass myself further by letting him see how turned on I was by a little touching. I shoved against him, finally managing to flop myself back onto the floor in a disgruntled heap.

He growled menacingly and reached for me again, grabbing my shirt and hauling me upright. I still refused to look at him, crossing my arms across my lap so that there wouldn't be any evidence of my arousal. He sighed and I felt a fleeting touch across my hair.

"Fuck, kid. Calm down." He reached for my hand and pressed it between his palms, stilling my shakes. "Go get your meds and take what you need, then get your ass back here and we'll eat."

I bobbed my head, still looking at the floor, and raced off for my bathroom. When I came back, Logan had situated himself on the couch, with Baxter in his lap. The rest of our little troupe was strewn around the room, tails wagging and tongues dripping.

"Don't just stand there; I got your food here and the movies 'bout to start." He shoved a plate heaped with spaghetti and a lake of sauce at me.

We watched the movie in silence. I silently drooled over Elijah Wood. And for all Logan's grumbling, I swear I could see his eyes get watery when Elijah dragged Leelee onto his moped and they escaped the wave, leaving her parents to die.

When it was over, I started grabbing all of the plates and garbage. I reached for his, but his hand clamped down over my wrist.

"Set it down, boy."

My breath quickened and I nervously set the plates down, trying not to drop everything since he still held my free hand captive.

"Look at me." I could feel my bones vibrating as I turned my eyes up. His eyes were locked onto mine, fiercely blue and intimidating. His mouth was slightly open, his breath escaping in short pants.

"Goddamn."

I barely heard the word, just watched his lips move.

There was a slight jerk, and suddenly I was sprawled across his Logan's lap.

"I-I'm so-sorry!" I tried to get up, terrified that he was going to laugh at me again.

"Idiot, I pulled you down." His hands locked around my arms and pulled me so that I was facing him, still in his lap. "I'm really not that scary, am I?"

I shook my head.

"Good. You've been getting better with your words, but today it got worse again because I made fun of you. I'm sorry." He tilted my head up so that I was forced to look at him, waiting until I nodded to let go. "All right. Now that that's out of the way."

His large hand wrapped around the back of my neck, encasing it in warmth. I shuddered and closed my eyes. His other hand pushed at my hip, arranging me so that I was lying across him.

What was he doing?

I slowly opened my eyes, taking a peek at him. He was staring up at me, smirking. The hand at me neck drew me downwards.

No way! Was he going to kiss me? No way no way no way. My heart thundered in my chest and I couldn't breathe.

His breath fanned across my face, "Breathe, boy."

I squeaked. He chuckled. His lips touched mine. I immediately went limp in his arms and they tightened around me. I sunk into him, letting his hands control me. His lips were warm, and I could still feel his smirk even as he kissed me.

I tentatively po ked out my tongue and licked his bottom lip. He groaned and returned the movement with force. His hands ran over my body, squeezing and groping.

Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

"What the fuck?" Logan peeled his mouth away from mine with a growl. One of his hands left mine to slap at the end table behind him, looking for the phone.

Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.

"Fucking phone!" His bellow startled me out of the daze his kisses had put me into and I jumped up. He made a swipe for me, but I backed away.

I ignored his frown and escaped to the kitchen.

Holy fuck. Logan and I had made out. We'd kissed. A lot. And it was good kissing. My boner throbbed just thinking about it.

I shook my head and grabbed the pots and pans, shoving them into the sink and turning the hot water on. We'd kissed! Wash pot. I touched my lips. Wash another pot. My erection was not going down. I shoved my hand under the water.

"Ow!"

"Ryan? Come here."

I froze. Hyperventilating yet again, I shyly walked into the living room. Logan was holding the phone, looking down at it quizzically. He heard me come in and held the phone out.