Warm air makes my skin tingle as I pull the door shut behind me and stomp my feet to get off the rest of the snow stuck to the shoes. Krisch is already in the kitchen and Shantiam is following him there, overcoat and all.

I cannot help smiling to myself as I listen to them. Krisch is telling Shanti to take off his outdoor clothes first, he can handle the shopping bags on his own thank you very much, while Shanti is ordering him to do the same himself - the foodstuffs can very well wait those few minutes needed to change into indoor shoes and to hang the coats in the hall. And all the while the bags are being emptied and things placed into the cupboards by two pairs of hands.

"Let me," I tell them both and shoo them away from the table. "Go and take off those overcoats, you'll just get too hot in here. I can do that."

"Really, Nash, what do we do on the days when you're not here?" Krischmerion winks at me and ushers Shantiam towards the hall as well.

"Behave silly, what else?" Shanti snorts but doesn't even try to push away the big hands that help him out of the overcoat. "That's our chief pastime, isn't it, old man?"

"Yes, yes." Krisch nods sagely, nearly black eyes glittering. "Poor you, having to spend so much time with an old wretch like me. Such a good thing that Nash is here so often, so that you have something nice to look at every now and then."

"Oh, you..."

I have to grin to myself as I dig into the bags. Even such a mundane chore as grocery shopping is always fun with the two of them around, and today the sheer pleasure of spending time with Krisch and Shanti has been doubled by the brilliant, crisp weather. Not too crisp, for a change, but just right. We all have enjoyed the walk to the nearest food market, Shantiam's hip hasn't bothered him at all, and the cup of hot tea we had in a small café before heading back home was just heavenly. Now they're well stocked for several days, I have bought something for Fordan and myself, and we are all feeling good about ourselves.

I know, I know - yet another day wasted. I should be looking for a job, but yet again I've managed to evade the topic. Whenever I think about it, I despise myself a little more. Of course it's not necessary, not financially. Fordan owns his apartment. My living there adds only marginally to his expenses, especially as I could be considered to make up for my food by cooking for both of us. The only thing he's actually needed to pay for is the extra clothing I've needed to buy. That's why he says I'm in no hurry to find work, that of course it's okay if I feel I want to, but it's not that necessary. I guess that's why I'm not even trying, not really.

And yet I feel guilty about it, because once again I'm behaving like a whore. This time I'm a kept whore, though, living with just one man and paying with sex for what I need. I hate this thought and wish it would leave me alone - I feel horrible and hate myself for it, not to mention how horrible Fordan would feel if he knew what I'm thinking, but there it is. Can't run away from it, because isn't it the truth, too? I have nothing but my body with which to keep him, and I want to keep him for as long as I only can.

I wonder how much longer I still have... The sun is shining but it's already much lower in the sky than a while ago. I should start thinking about getting back, though there's no hurry. Fordan seems to come from work a little later every day, he won't be home for at least another two hours. No use being there and listening to the clock and wondering if I should start making dinner yet. Oh, I need to go back early enough to warm a bit before the night, but there's no rush. It's a good, solid house, with tight windows. There's no need to burn a fire all the time, even in the winter.

"Tired?"

A yelp escapes me. "Krisch, how you startled me! I didn't notice you!"

"I noticed that you didn't," he says with a little smirk, towering above me. "You just looked like you were completely lost in thought, and it occurred to me that maybe you're tired of the walk?"

"Or of spending too much time with silly old men," puts in Shantiam who'd also come to the kitchen.

I shake my head so hard that I almost get dizzy. "No. Definitely not. I love being with you, and you know it! I guess I'm just a little tired."

"We love it that you're here with us," Shantiam says with emphasis. "We always liked you so much, and besides it's so much fun to have someone else to talk to, for a change. Perhaps it's the winter, though, and the short days that are making you get tired more easily, now that you've again spent a few years in all that sun in Dirna?"

"Maybe," I say. It's as legitimate an excuse as any other. "Yeah, that could be it."

"Or doesn't the boy let you sleep at nights?"

I laugh as Shanti swats at Krisch, but the laughter gets stuck in my throat.

"We do sleep too, Krisch, thanks for you concern!" I manage to chuckle nevertheless. "I guess it's just... getting settled in Deleon once more, and all that."

Ever since Fordan returned to work I've been here with them at least three times a week, recently even more often, but they haven't really grilled me for information. Not once. I can feel their eyes on me again, like many times before. They see so much but they don't want to intrude. I know they would listen and support and understand and comfort me, and still I can't say a word to them because I'm so ashamed of myself and what I've become.

Or have I 'become' like this? Wasn't I always? The drifter without any plans for the future, eager to grab any opportunity and then just float along to see where I'd end up. That's exactly how I first ended up with these people, with Fordan and his family, and for a long while I thought I was anchored. But of course that was only me, and when Fordan moved on there was nothing to hold on to any more. I can't understand why he's picked me up again, but I know that things will just repeat themselves, because I haven't changed any. One day I'll find myself drifting once more.

I realize that Krisch is still standing next to me, solid like a big tree, looking at me with those deep, dark eyes, quiet and sympathetic. How many things is it possible to think about in a blink? How long have I been standing here, oblivious? Haven't I decided that they mustn't know about any of this, that nobody must?

"Nash, are you sure everything's all right?" he asks in a low voice, concerned. Shantiam is fussing with a teapot, his back pointedly turned at us, though don't I know that the two of them are like wheels in a clockwork, working and acting in perfect harmony? He's listening to me and Krisch, I know he is, even though he's pretending that nothing strange is going on.

I would like to say yes, of course, why wouldn't everything be all right, but goddamnit my lips won't cooperate and he's standing so close to me that I can feel his warmth.

"Are you happy, Nash?"

Such a simple question. The answer should be equally simple. "Ye-es. Yes I am."

"That's good." So he decides not to question despite the stammer? "We've just been wondering why you sometimes look so - not unhappy, but somehow... sad would be the word, I guess. Or scared. That's why I asked. Do you miss Dirna?"

"No." No need to hesitate this time, and Krischmerion chuckles.

"I didn't really think so. You're so weird, a Dirnai who loves Deleon's winters!"

We both laugh and Shantiam glances over his shoulder at us, smiling. "It's true," he says, "we know many Dirnai who've moved up here, and some of them may say winters are all right, or that they can occasionally be nice. But nobody else says they like it. I guess you were really born to live here."

That makes my breath catch again. Shanti looks at me for a moment before turning once more to the things on the table. I have the feeling that soon he will ask me something that'll push me over the edge - the edge of what, I have no idea - and I don't want that right now. Not now.

"Let me help," I say to Shanti and go there next to him. He doesn't even try to tell me no, merely glances at me as I pick up the knife and begin to dice some vegetables, my entire attention focused on making the little cubes as regular and uniformly dimensioned as possible. It's oddly soothing, though I feel a sting of guilt hearing Shantiam's tiny sigh of disappointment as he moves aside and begins instead to clean the fish we bought.

All three of us are soon working together, in silence that feels heavy to start with but soon becomes more comfortable as we get on with the dinner preparations. I'm not sure at which point I've decided to help them with it, though shouldn't I be at Fordan's place by now and making dinner for the two of us instead? But a sinking feeling inside me keeps telling me that he's not there anyway; that there's no use waiting there when I can be here and have these two old wonderful man nearby. Even if their presence now seems unable to drive away the sadness, at least I'm in the comforting warmth of this familiar house, and I'm not alone.

"Was that the door?" Krisch frowns a little and wipes his hands on a towel. "I'll get it."

"I hope it's not Banerr's family," Shanti says with a small grin. "I was counting on a peaceful dinner."

Krischmerion shakes his head. "They wouldn't be coming unannounced at this time of the day..."

We listen to his steps in the hall, then to the door opening.

"Good evening, Dad! Sorry to bother you and Shanti at this hour, but the thing is that I wanted to discuss something with you - if you don't mind?"

I try to swallow but my throat seizes up completely. Fordan sounds brisk and energetic, there's nothing unusual about his tone. Did I really expect there to be?

"Do come in, boy! You might just as well have dinner here with us, too. We were just making some."

Fordan takes off his coat and hangs it in the wardrobe, then there's the thump when he kicks off his boots and fishes some soft slippers from the box by the door. Krisch reappears at the kitchen door, and a moment later he's joined by another tall, dark figure that flashes a smile at Shantiam.

"Good evening, Shanti-Daddy - oh!"

At least he has the good grace to look sheepish, but I noticed the initial surprise and so did his fathers. He didn't expect to see me, which means he hasn't been home. He's come here straight from work, and yet there was not a single word of protest when Krisch suggested dinner, never mind that I should be waiting for him by now in his own apartment, with dinner ready, the little housewife that I am.

He recovers quickly, though, smiles and comes to hug me. "Sorry," he mumbles and kisses me with lips that are cold and taste of the outside air, "I got totally absorbed in these calculations and never realized how the time was flying."

"Is this some time to come home from work, son?" Krischmerion's tone is playful enough but the reproach is there nevertheless. "It's hours since the office hours ended!"

"I know, I know!" Fordan sounds exasperated. "But I think you should understand how it is sometimes, when you get so wrapped up in something that you completely forget to look at the time."

"He does know," Shantiam puts in sagely. "Which is why I introduced the alarm clock system, back when he was still going to work. Otherwise I'm not sure if we'd have seen him for weeks on end when there was a new project starting."

"Alarm clock?"

"Yes. An alarm clock, set to go off at a certain time, and placed in such a place that he had to get up from his desk and walk a few steps to silence it." Shantiam winks at us. "I dare say it worked beautifully, and the projects still got completed in schedule and to everyone's full satisfaction."

"I heartily recommend it," Krisch agrees. "I still remember that I was far more energetic in the morning when I'd actually rested in the evening, instead of poring over the same stuff until the wee hours. Not to mention that I actually got the chance to see my family awake, too."

Fordan leans against the table and cocks his head thoughtfully, then glances at me with a grin. "What do you say, Nash, maybe I could learn something from those wiser than me?"

"You don't need to do that," I tell him, unable to meet his eyes.

I wish I knew why this little revelation from the past makes me feel so hollow. I don't want to be something he's obliged to remember, something he needs to be reminded of. Krisch loves Shantiam so enormously, he loves their family, so how is it possible that he of all people might've sometimes needed to be reminded to come home to them? How can work, any kind of work, be that fascinating?

I guess I don't understand it because I'm not clever like Fordan. To me, work is merely a way to earn enough money to live, that's all, whereas he has so many important things in his life to compete for his time and attention. Everything's going to go just like it did before, all those other things will claim more and more of him until I feel my grip slipping and can't hold on to him any longer.

"Rubbish," Fordan says and wraps an arm around me, chin on my shoulder. "I think I'll do exactly what Shanti suggests, and try to stop being such a selfish bastard."

"I'm fine, Fordan. You need to stay longer, you do that."

"Nash..." He rubs his cold nose against my ear. "Believe me, it's not absolutely necessary to try and do everything at once. That stuff won't go away, it'll still be there waiting for me even if I leave at a decent time to spend the evening with you."

"Now you're talking!" Krisch says, and the chill inside me shrinks into something more bearable when Fordan hums under his breath and holds me close. At least he's still there now.

Together we set the table and sit down to have dinner together. Fordan talks with Krisch, there's a new project starting and he's enthusiastic but that's all I bother to listen to; I wouldn't understand one tenth of it anyway. Shanti protests when I offer to wash the dishes but I do it nevertheless, and by the time we close the door behind us and walk into the night it's getting rather late.

Fordan doesn't say anything while we walk home, our steps brisk but not hurried. The apartment is dark and empty, I feel vaguely guilty as I take off my coat and the cool air touches my neck. I should've come earlier and heated at least the bedroom, it's unpleasantly chilly and the bedclothes are going to feel damp unless I do something about the fireplace there quickly.

"W-what is it?"

Fordan looks down at me, body unyielding, dark eyebrows pulled into a frown. He's taken my completely by surprise by pushing me against the wall like this. There was nothing rough or violent about it, just a determined grip, and I realize I'm panting a little.

"Aren't you mad at me?" he asks.

"Why would I be?"

"Hell, why wouldn't you?" Fordan's hands, palms pressed to the wall on both sides of me, move a little closer. "I'm behaving like a complete shit but you never say a thing. Don't you honestly mind?"

I open my mouth to reply, not quite sure of what I'm going to say, but he's not done yet.

"Nash, I wish you'd tell me when you're pissed at me! I know it's not nice, the way I tend to get so totally absorbed in something that I nearly forget to breathe, I've been told so dozens of times. But please..." Fordan takes a deep breath, pulls me tightly in his arms. "Please don't decide that I'm hopeless and just walk away one day. Please, Nash. I've had several boyfriends over these years, and every damn time it's been the same damn thing. I admit, I probably never was much of a partner for any one of them, because none of them was what I'd really wanted."

My eyes slid shut as I breathe in his scent and feel the hard bulge pressing into my belly through clothing. His hand is incredibly tender as it cups my face and tilts it up to give his lips better access to my throat. "No one of them was you," he murmurs, so close that I shiver. "And now you're back with me, but it's not that easy to shake bad old habits."

"It's all right," I manage and feel him shake his head.

"It's not all right to make you unhappy!" Fordan insists. "I don't want to lose you again, Nash, so help me. Tell me when you're angry with me. Tell me that I'm an egoistic shithead when I'm behaving like one. When you don't feel like doing something I suggest, say so."

And what if I feel like doing something you suggest, Fordan? Like now, like this, spreading my legs to let your thigh slip between them, holding on to you so tight my arms tremble? Should I say so? But then, at least right now I can't say a word because we're kissing, then kissing some more, tongues entwining and nearly biting. I'd just say that I want you, but you can feel it well enough even without any words.

"Fuck me," I gasp anyway.

But he won't do that, no. Instead he walks me to the bed and we tumble onto it. I want him inside me and he doesn't say no, but he sets the pace and he wants it slow, so tantalizingly slow that he blows my mind. How can anything feel this good? I cling to Fordan, listen to his ragged breath, I know that I cry out when I come hard and then I cry out again when I feel the throb, the surge, the hot sting of his release, the way he clutches me and groans into my sweaty skin.

I swallow, fingers brushing aside those dark strands of hair that stick to his face, and his eyes blink open. I'm sitting in Fordan's lap, legs clasped around him, cradled there between his thighs and warm body, held in his arms that embrace me tightly. His cock still inside me.

"Feeling good?" he whispers.

I nod, listening to these hot waves of pleasure that are slow to subside tonight. Fordan smiles dreamily.

"I won't let you go this time," he says. "Believe me, Nash. I won't let you down any more."

Let me down? I don't understand you. I'm not worthy of you, Fordan, so how could you ever let me down? But I won't ask, because I'm too drowsy, and right now I just want to rub my forehead into yours and kiss you and believe anything you say.

"Don't laugh," he mumbles into the kiss, making me blink in surprise.

Did I laugh?

"I mean it, Nash."

Whatever, Fordan. Just hold me, right now. Let's not think too much about tomorrow.