paperweight

by ineedjesus

When Flynn's father dies, he has to leave behind his entire life to take over as CEO of his father's company. Before his father died, he told Flynn to take care of his personal assistant, Ezekiel Jones, but passed away before he could explain. Ezekiel doesn't do any work or follow any company rules - he's disruptive, cocky, and lazy. So why did his father hire him?

The only thing I can really tell you is to not trust assumptions made by self destructive men.

Flynn hated his own success to the point of madness. He had never wanted to be trapped in an office, in a suit and tie, working paperwork and meetings day in and day out.

But his uncle's death left him the only person that could be trusted to run the company. He hadn't known his father entirely well - he had worked himself to death after all - but he felt a strong legacy to uphold. He couldn't let all his father had built be taken away by the vultures of capitalism.

But it broke something, deep down in him. To be trapped in a day in day out routine. Sometimes (all the time) he would lose track of whatever he was doing and he would just stare out his office window. It was a big office, the CEO suite, one could say. It had a fairly large window, and he would stare out that window for what felt like decades. Mind lost in all the things he used to do, all the adventures he used to have. All the world he had seen and all that he had yet to see. What it seemed he would never see, now.

It left him restless, miserable, frustrated, and he had to work his hardest not to snap at his coworkers and subordinates. They didn't deserve being the butt of his pain and anger. They were hard, loyal workers, and nice people.

Well, most of them.

"Top of the morning, Flynn." Came that aggravating, sarcastic, familiar tone. His personal assistant, Ezekiel, entered the room, haphazardly slinging a stack of papers onto his desk, knocking a few things to the floor. He stood back, kicking himself against the wall as if he were hanging out on the street corner. And he certainly looked the part. He was wearing slacks, a white button up shirt, and a unbuttoned vest. Over this, a hoodie. A hoodie! With a SnapBack backwards on his head, and converse on his feet. He looked like an absolute hooligan.

Flynn gave him a frustrated look, standing up.

"Mr. Jones - I -" He took a deep breath. "First of all, it is unacceptable for you to call me by my first name like that! I am your boss, you have to show respect and protocol in the workplace. And I honestly can't fathom why my father hired you and kept you on if this was how you acted - pick all of this up immediately!" Flynn demanded, seething and fidgeting in place.

Ezekiel made no move to pick up the things he knocked down. He smirked.

"You father valued different things, mate." His annoying Australian accent twanged harping lay. "Good man. Wish I could say as much to you." Ezekiel said smugly. Flynn opened and closed his mouth in a mixture of shock and outrage. Ezekiel took his wordlessness as a chance to move forward. He leaned over Flynn's desk and snatched his salad right away from him.

"You done with this?" Ezekiel asked. He then answered, "Thanks, mate," instead of waiting for Flynn's reply. He then turned and left, the swagger in his walk giving a sway to the tight ass half-hidden under his slacks. Flynn watched him go, having for the millionth time in confused resentment.

Curiosity pulled at Flynn like gravity.

"I don't know, man," Jacob Stone, Head of the Arts Department, told him over lunch. "The guy just showed up one day, a few years back."

"I like him!" Cassandra Cillian, Head of Engineering confessed, as they walked down the hall discussing plans for a new outpost in Nigeria. "He can be, well, you know, Ezekiel. But I think he's got a good heart under all of that. I know Mr. Carson really liked him." She smiled as memories surfaced in her mind. "They spent a lot of time together. More than you'd expect of an assistant and a boss, you know? They were close."

Flynn only grew more confused by these inferences from his colleagues - why would his father hire someone like Ezekiel? Why would he spend so much time with him? It bothered Flynn more and more, every waking moment, almost. The ruder the boy - he was a boy, he couldn't be older than twenty - was to him, the more infuriated Flynn became with the situation. He had enough to deal with on his plate, and yet all his attention seemed to circle back to that cocky style and those stupid flat rimmed hats.

The seed of this aggravating obsession was planted in the soil of Flynn's last days with his father. He found himself thinking back to those days often, and certainly not just because of Ezekiel. But that did prove to be the most confounding part. Which was saying something, because his father was a confounding man at best and downright unintelligible at worst. It ran in the family, after all.

The only sound that greeted Flynn as he entered the hospital room was the steady rhythm and beat of the machinery. And smell absent of smells brushed his nostrils, and he moved forward like a funeral procession to the side of the bed. His father cracked opened one weary eyelid, and offered him a weak smile. Flynn forced the smile to reflect the best it could. He sat down in the seat, folding his hands together to keep them from
fidgeting.

"Hey, my boy." His father rasped weakly, smile spreading a bit in warmth. Flynn smiled back, but tears pricked his eyes.

"Hey, dad. I've uh…." He cleared his throat. "I've made my decision. I'll take over." He announced, firmly, even though the words made his own heart sink even farther.

The sentiment seemed to reflect in his father's eyes, and his smile fell away, just as his hair had at the start of chuemo. "Flynn...you don't have to. It's not the life you want, it's not who you are. You've built such a wonderful life for yourself, you've seen and learned so much. You still have more to see and learn. I don't-" His words were interrupted by a rough fit of coughing, and Flynn flinched at the pain of the sound.

Once his father had settled down again and taken a few deep breaths, Flynn took it as his turn to speak. "I'll never stop learning," He said, in a tone that spoke of the brighter side. He kept his words laced with greener grass and silver linings as he carried on, "And it won't be like, forever trapped in the office. Once Ray gets done with his work in Nepal he'll help me. We can finish what you started and just manage from there, and reach for the stars. I want to do this. You started this company, you built it from the ground up, and it's doing good in the world. I want to keep it going, keep it safe, carry it on." Flynn swore sincerely. His father's eyes filled with tears, and a proud, sad smile now graced his features.

"You are such a good man, Flynn. I couldn't be a prouder father. If you are really sure…there's some things i'll need to tell you." He said, shifting in his hospital bed slightly. He reached out, and took Flynn's hand. Flynn scooted closer, squeezing his father's hand, staring at him in rapt attention.

His father's face suddenly turned serious, very serious. He squeezed his son's hand tighter. "First off, before I tell you anything about the company or the trade…" His father swallowed, lifting his chin a little. "You have to promise me something."

"Anything." Flynn swore solemnly.

"You have to swear to me that you won't let anything happen to Ezekiel Jones." His father said seriously, with a hint of desperation. The desperation of a dying man with too much to lose.

Flynn furrowed his brow, sitting back a bit. That was not what he'd been expecting. "Your assistant? Why?" He personally had distasteful feelings towards the young man.

"I can't - it's not my place to tell you why. Not right now, perhaps later, but just swear to me, please, you won't let anything happen to him." His father was practically begging. Flynn stared at him, confusion raging, before he slowly nodded.

"I swear."

It was Monday. Flynn hated Mondays.

"You look sober." Ezekiel said, striding into his office in a pair of jeans and tank top, showing off a surprisingly toned physique. An extremely unprofessional thing to be showing off-

"I'm always sober. As should you be." Flynn said, glaring at him.

"You seem like you could use a little loosening up. As do I." Ezekiel said with some sort of meaningful grin that made Flynn uncomfortable. The young man moved forward, and ran his fingers absently over the ridge of Flynn's nameplate.

"You seem like you need to learn how to dress accordingly. This-" Flynn gestured angrily to his outfit. "Is unacceptable!"

Ezekiel only grinned, and cocked his head. "Oh, really? And how do you want me to dress?" He asked. Flynn blinked at him, confused by his tone of voice.

"Well - according to the company dress code, obviously!" Flynn huffed. Ezekiel rolled his eyes, and turned away.

"Whatever you say." He said, and walked out the door.

"What - you - whatever you say, sir!" Flynn called out the swinging door. Then he sat back in his chair, running his hand through his hair. He really needed to stop letting that idiot get to him.

Eve Baird was his head of security, and a beautifully terrifying woman. She knocked curtly on his door, like the rapid fire of bullets. He called her in, and she strode in like this was the damned military.

"Take a seat, Miss Baird." He asked. She sat, giving him a smile like she was breaking down his figure into weak points.

"What did you want to see me about, Mr. Carson?" She asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about my father," Flynn said, and her face faltered. "-and Mr. Jones." He informed her. Eve then blinked.

"Ezekiel?" She asked, shifting uncomfortably on the chair.

"Yes. What do you think of him?" Flynn asked. Eve pursed her lips, glancing towards the door.

"Well, uh, sir. I think he's a very spirited young man, who's an adult, and can make his own decisions." She said primly.

"Even if those decisions go against the interests and policies of the company?" Flynn asked quizzically. Eve looked like she understood, and gave him an extremely sympathetic look, which he didn't understand.

"Well. Sometimes you have to...think between the lines, Mr. Carson. Sometimes, what's best for people is what's best for the company." She said, words very well placed. Flynn frowned, a bit confused.

"His insubordinate and unacceptable behavior is good for the company? How so?" He asked. Eve cleared her throat, furrowing her brow.

"Sir...what exactly are we discussing here?" She asked. Flynn raised an eyebrow.

"The way he dresses. The way he disobeys orders, causes chaos in the workplace, and that's when he bothers to come into work!" Flynn huffed. Eve tilted her head slightly.

"Yes, well...Ezekiel is eccentric. Much like I remember yourself being, before you took this job." She said.

"What is that supposed to mean, Mrs. Baird?" Flynn asked.

"Nothing, Sir. What I mean to say is that - well, Mr. Jones' real job here has always allowed the pretense of his office job to lax. It doesn't really cause many problems, from what i've seen. It never caused any problems with your father, your father enjoyed him immensely." Eve said, giving a slight gesture of her hand.

Flynn sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean, real job?" He demanded. Eve's eyes widened.

"I thought your father told you." She said.

"He was halfway through telling me things, when he died suddenly in the night. There's a lot i'll never know that he wanted to tell me. What real job?" Flynn asked again, urgently. Eve looked everywhere but at Flynn.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it, sir, especially not to someone I don't trust with the company yet. No offense. I'd ask Ray, or maybe Jenkins, if I were you. I have to go, sir, i'm sorry."

Flynn watched her hurry away, even more confused.

Corporate parties were ridiculously awkward. Especially when you were the boss, and everyone was afraid of making a bad impression on you, so they decided to stick to their scattered groups of small talk.

Flynn hung out near the food, sipping his light wine, observing the room and amusing himself by picking up little details about people. That was, until he was suddenly not alone. He turned his head to find the person leaning into his arm was none other than the mysterious Ezekiel Jones.

"You - you haven't been into work in a week! And what are you wearing?" Flynn demanded, pulling away and looking Ezekiel up and down. He was adorned in a pair of leather leggings, and a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, eye makeup smeared slightly around his eyes.

"What? This is a party, isn't it? I just got back from a new club downtown. Nice place, I think you'd like it." Ezekiel said, leaning against the wall to face him. The younger man pulled a metallic flask out of seemingly nowhere, popping it open and taking a harsh swig. Flynn could smell the strength of the liquor.

"It is a work function, Mr. Jones. You are expected to wear the same, if not more formal, attire that you wear to work. And you are certainly not allowed to drink outside, hard alcohol. Is a glass of wine to boring for someone like you?" Flynn demanded. Ezekiel tucked his flask back, and cocked his head. The line of his neck sharply drew into the strong, smooth curve of his jaw. Flynn was embarrassed to feel his eyes linger there, before he forced them to meet the man's eyes. Ezekiel's eyes narrowed smugly, and Flynn knew he had seen it. Flynn suddenly felt heat rising to his face, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. He looked like he had somehow won. Won what, Flynn wasn't sure.

"Well, I guess i'll have to start being more consistent in my wardrobe. Won't I?" Ezekiel asked, playfully. Flynn swallowed thickly.

"Won't I, sir." Flynn heard himself correct sternly. Ezekiel's eyes glinted, and he laughed. His laugh hit low in Flynn's stomach.

"You really think that's ever going to work?" Ezekiel asked.

"I am your superior. It's only office etiquette." Flynn said. Ezekiel crossed his arms.

"Are you sure? Or is it just you?" The younger man asked, lowly. Flynn screwed up his face and shifted on his feet.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He demanded. Ezekiel grinned, like the cocky son of a bitch he knew he was.

"I know how hard it must be, to be tied up in paperwork and suits and a boring routine. I know how you really are. It must be driving you crazy. Can't blame a guy in your situation for craving a little bit of control." He said matter of factly. Flynn's face heated up further.

"I- I am not craving anything." Flynn said firmly, straightening his tie. Ezekiel rolled his eyes, turning and walking away.

"Sure you aren't."

The next day, Ezekiel came into work late. At least he came in at all. However, when he strode into Flynn's office - once more without knocking - Flynn almost dropped his cup of coffee. Above of his annoying red converse, Ezekiel was wearing another pair of tight, clinging leather pants. This time, he wore a tight red button up, with both the sleeves rolled up and the collar slightly undone. The stick of a lollipop stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning." Ezekiel greeted, thumbs hooked in his pockets. Flynn was surprised those pants could even allow for pockets.

"Good morning, sir." Flynn once again corrected. Ezekiel walked slowly around the edge of his desk, running his finger along the edge. He paused as he came around to Flynn's side. Flynn stared up at him, about to ask what he needed, and probably to tell him off once more for improper dress code. But before he could, Ezekiel's hand moved, and knocked a pile of letters off the side of the desk. They flew off and scattered, drifting across the room behind Ezekiel. Flynn made a sound of confusion and outrage as he watched the nonsensical action.

"Oops. My bad. I'll pick that up." Ezekiel said, turning around. Flynn watched, speechless, as the younger man dramatically bent over, sticking that shapely leather clad ass in the air. Flynn tried to look away, but found that he couldn't. When Ezekiel finished scooping the letters up, he stood and turned to grin at Flynn's blushing, slack jawed expression. He took a few steps back towards him, dropping the letters back on Flynn's desk. He opened his mouth to say something, probably something vague and coy, but the phone started to ring. Flynn found he couldn't move a muscle.

Ezekiel moved forward, leaned over Flynn to grab the phone. Flynn's heart pounded as the scent of the Australian man's cologne washed over him. Probably something insufferably modern and expensive. Ezekiel was leaning, now face to face with Flynn, only an inch between their faces as he pulled the phone to his ear. Their gazes were locked, and Flynn was terrified to breathe.

"Mr. Carson's office. He's indisposed at the moment. Can I take a message?" Ezekiel asked, in a shockingly professional voice. There was a heat radiated between them, and Ezekiel down at him, obviously not paying attention as some voice on the other line garbled a response.

"Uh huh. I'll be sure to get that to him. Have a pleasant day." Ezekiel said, that professional tone practically mocking. Then he reached to hang the phone up, before resting a hand on either arm of Flynn's chair, trapping him.

"What about you, Flynn? Do you want to have a pleasant day?" Ezekiel asked. Flynn stared up at him, trying to swallow, trying to breath. He reached up to loosen his tie slightly, trying to clear the fog in his mind wrap his head around what was happening.

"It's Mr. Carson, uh, to you. Mr. Jones." He started off, voice hoarse. Ezekiel cocked his head.

"Again with the authority thing. I've gotta admit, it's a little hot." He said, in a musing tone. The directness of that statement snapped Flynn out of it slightly, and he started to shake his head.

"Mr. Jones, I don't know what you're trying to pull here-" He started to say.

"I think you know exactly what i'm trying to pull, Mr. Carson." Ezekiel responded, inflecting his voice. Flynn steeled himself, and stood up suddenly, causing Ezekiel to pull back. He straightened his jacket, taking a deep breath of the space now gratefully between them.

"Mr. Jones, I know you know about what my father asked of you regarding your position here at this company, but that does not mean you can press as many buttons and boundaries as you want! This is absolutely unacceptable!" Flynn exclaimed, trying to instill authority back into his shaken voice. Ezekiel rolled his eyes.

"The boner you've got tells me otherwise." Ezekiel said, pointing directly at the crotch of Flynn's slacks. He felt his face turn as red as it ever had been.

"Get out, Mr. Jones! And do not do anything like this again, or I will have you transferred somewhere far away from here!" Flynn practically shouted.

Ezekiel didn't seemed startled by his shout. He just sighed, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Sure you will." He called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving a mortified and alarmed Flynn to deal with the problem in his pants.

Ray hadn't been in this part of the world since long before his father had died. So, according to what Eve had strangely advised him, he went to talk to Jenkins.

Jenkins was a friend of his father and Ray, had advised them and helped them start up the company. He was as aloof as he was rich, and his estate held a formidable collection of antiques and artifacts. He had often come here as a child to play, fascinated by the ancient objects, the rolling lawns, and the expansive library inside the main manor.

It was in this library that Flynn found the old man, spectacles adorning his bulbous nose, buried behind a book that looked heavier than Flynn himself.

"Ah, Mr. Carson. What brings you here?" Jenkins asked, putting down the book. Flynn walked around the long research table, smiling at him.

"Hey, Jenkins. How's charity funding been?" He asked.

"As much as I support the causes," The old man said. "I abhor the stipulation of having to appear at events. I've successfully dodged a few, but my PR agent is a shark."

Flynn nodded, running his hand over the binding of one of the particularly older books on the table absently. Jenkins raised an eyebrow, considering him.

"What does bring you here, sir?" He asked.

"A certain problem I have," Flynn began. "Named Ezekiel Jones."

Jenkins took off his glasses, and began to clean them with a handkerchief.

"What about the boy, sir?" He asked.

"So you know him? I thought you did." Flynn nodded. "I was wondering if you know what in the hell is up with him."

Jenkins raised a bushy eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"What was he to my father? Why did my father ask me to make sure nothing happen to him? What's this special job he has, that Eve won't tell be about, that makes him think he can do whatever he wants?" Flynn asked in desperation.

Jenkins stood up, turning away from him, shaking his head.

"I'll admit...later on, I had little contact with Ray and your father. I regret that now. I do not know why you're father and the boy where close, I only know they were. I know that he was a valuable asset, he was deep in the inner circle. In fact, the inner circle consisted of him, your father, Ray, and sometimes Eve Baird. From my few meetings with the boy, I can tell you one thing. It is not whatever job he possesses that allows him to act that way. He does what he wishes. The only man he ever listened to was your father. I sensed he owed him some debt. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Whatever their situation was, it certainly involving some sort of debt. To my understanding, your father bought him a very nice apartment downtown. And I do mean bought." Jenkins explained. Flynn's eyes widened as he drank in this information. The answer provided itself, all the little hints toppling down on him.

Of course, it all made sense now. With a ringing in his ears, he realized that his father had been cheating on his mother. His father had been having an affair with this twenty something, giving him a job, money, putting him up in an apartment. In exchange for sex, an illicit relationship.

The same type of illicit affair, apparently, that the young man now wished to strike up with him.

Head reeling, Flynn said goodbye to Jenkins quickly, and made his way out of the echoing manor like a man being chased.

Luckily, Ezekiel did not come into work for the next few days. Flynn was swamped with work, but all he could think about was the relationship young man and his father. Had his mother ever known? Why had his father done such a thing? And why was everyone somehow okay with it?

He desperately wanted to get a moment away to go see his mother, but the job wouldn't allow it. He felt like he was being suffocated by fluorescent lights and gray walls. Day in and day out, the drawl of statistics and consumer satisfaction while a world of adventure and color passed by his window.

Finally, the weekend came. Which didn't mean much to him, he never got a day off. He hadn't gotten a day off since he'd gotten here. But, the weekend work days where a little more lax, so he managed to get away for a drive out to his mother's house.

"Oh, my big beautiful boy, you look so handsome in the suit! Have you met anyone? A girl, maybe? Or a boy, I know you're adventurous, I don't judge, I just want my little boy to be happy-" She said as she busied around, setting up some tea.

"Mom, if I meet someone, i'll tell you." He said, as way of appeasing her. He glanced towards the steam rolling off the tea.

"I, uh...I actually came to talk to you about something. Do you know Ezekiel Jones?" He asked, watching as she took her seat across from him. Her face lit up.

"Oh, Ezekiel? Oh, such a marvelous, amusing young man! Has he been giving you trouble? Don't mind his abrasive attitude, he's got a heart of gold, he really does. He always liked you, this is just his way of coping with your father's passing. They were very close, as i'm sure you know." She informed him, sipping her tea happily. Flynn swallowed, shifting in his seat slightly. She really seemed to like him. She couldn't know...could she? No, she couldn't.

"So i've heard. Do you know how close they were? Nobody seems to be able to give me a set definition of the...nature of their relationship." Flynn asked, reaching to tug at his collar slightly. Was it suddenly hot in here?

"I'm not sure how they met, and I don't know entirely how they got along, I just know they had a very important bond. I thought at first he was taking the boy under his wing, grooming him for the business, but then he seemed to show no interest in that, in a direct sense. But he had an important place, in the company, I know. Your father often said he'd be lost without him, and Ray was very fond of him. They used to go out on Ray's yacht rather often." She told him. Flynn resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. This was all the same things he was hearing from everyone else, and it sounded, with what he knew, more and more like what he suspected…

"Mom…" He started, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to raise her suspicion. If she didn't know, he didn't want her to know. Didn't want to break her heart. "Did you ever notice anything...strange?" He asked, trying not to imply anything, but still fishing for answers. His mother frowned, and glanced away thoughtfully.

"Well, now that you mention it..." Her eyes looked distantly, into the past. "Sometimes, your father would leave, in the middle of the night. He'd get a text, and he'd have to go. It worried me, but he told me it was alright. That it was important, but it wasn't his place to tell me why. And I trusted him. I never knew exactly what or who he was leaving to see, until one night Mr. Jones came to our door. I don't know what it was about. But I always trusted him to tell me if it was truly important." She said, shrugging.

Flynn felt a tightness clench his throat. How could she be so blind? She always assumed the best in people. He suddenly felt anger rise up in him, that his father could be unfaithful to such a wonderful woman.

He soon took his leave, unable to look at her anymore. He blamed it on work.

Flynn sat at the head of the conference table, as men in suits bickered and the fluorescent lights flickered above his pounding head. He rubbed his temple, feeling like a clock was ticking just behind his eyes. He had to keep it together. God, he didn't even know what all these constant meetings were about anymore. He hated this people, hated this place. Hated himself for making this stupid, stupid, stupid decision…

The pressure became too much.

"Just shut up!" He found himself snapping out suddenly. All the executives froze, turning to stare at him. Regret joined the restless rage pulsing underneath his skin. He stood violently, tugging at the collar of his suit. His hands were shaking.

"Mr. Carson, that was extremely unproffess-" A balding old man began to sputter in outrage, but Flynn cut him off.

"I'm sorry, I have to cut this meeting short. Something's come up." He snapped, whirling around and stomping through the door, leaving the room of his bewildered colleagues in the dust.

He stormed into his office and slammed the door shut. His heart was pounding and his skin was too tight, his head felt like it was going to explode. Like all the pressure in the world was building underneath his skin. He ripped at his tie, unraveling it. He had half a mind to just tie it into a damned noose and get it over with.

He stalked back and forth, trying to remember how to breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the dull, disgusting walls.

"Heard somebody was having a meltdown." Came that familiar Australian drawl, in a sing song voice. Flynn froze, not wanting to look.

"Get. Out." He gritted, digging his fingers into his own hip. "You're the last thing I need right now." The last thing that he needed was to have to look at his father's mistress one more time. Or was it mister?

"On the contrary, Mr. Carson," Ezekiel said, and his lilting tone of voice was drawing closer. "I think I know exactly what you need."

Flynn finally spun around to face him, and found the other man was wearing that red button up, with a pair of skinny jeans and those damned converse. Flynn's chest heaved slightly, and he tried to keep the pressure under wraps.

"Mr. Jones, get out of my office. I will not tolerate any more of this, I will have you transferred." He said, voice trembling with tension.

"No, you won't." Ezekiel reproached, moving closer, and closer. Flynn stepped backwards. Ezekiel stepped forward again, and Flynn backwards. Then the back of his legs hit the edge of his desk, and he was somehow trapped by the heavy weight of the atmosphere between them.

Ezekiel stepped forward, pressing close to him, slightly off center so he could raise his thigh to press against Flynn's groin. Flynn's hand reached backwards, to grip the edge of the desk.

The self satisfied look Ezekiel always wore softened slightly, which took Flynn by surprise, captivating him.

"I know how unhappy you are. You gave up who you were to take care of this company. You're doing so well, it's impressive. But you're working yourself too hard," Ezekiel gave a slight smirk again, and moved his leg to rub a little more over the growing bulge in Flynn's pants. "No pun intended. All jokes aside," Ezekiel reached to press a hand to Flynn's chest, to feel the rapid beat of his heart. "You can't keep all that misery and frustration bottled up like this. Everyone has to blow off a little steam sometimes. There's nothing wrong with that." He said softly, with an earnest, alluring edge.

There was an impossible pulse of silence, and the whole world seemed to stop spinning. Something deep down in him snapped, and he finally let the pressure take over him. He crashed forward, tangling a hand in the collar of Ezekiel's shirt and pulling him into a kiss that was at first more teeth than lips. Ezekiel smiled against him, pressing his thigh further as he tilted his head to reconnect.

While the initial kiss was abrasive, the more refined meeting of their lips was full of heat, and Flynn was ashamed to admit he'd spent a lot of time staring at the fullness of the younger man's lips. Suffice it to say, in practice, they did not disappoint. There was an unprecedented amount of aggressive desperation in Flynn's movements, but Ezekiel only seemed pleased by his eagerness. Flynn let go of the edge of the desk and used that hand instead to pull the man closer, cupping the curve of his back. Their kiss was far more into the realm of making out, with the push and pull of the whole ocean between them, and more than a little bit of tongue involved. Flynn was not surprised to taste the artificial cherry flavoring of those damned lollipops as he ran his tongue over the curve of his lips.

As Flynn dug his fingers into the surprisingly firm muscles of Ezekiel's back, the memory of the younger man flagrantly putting his ass on display the other day surfaced. Flynn let both his hands move from where they were, down to cup said ass through the rough fabric of his jeans. He squeezed, and Ezekiel responded with a pleased sound, moving his own arms to wrap around his boss' neck. Their chests were now flush, and Flynn let out a groan as Ezekiel rubbed harder against his erection with his thigh. Now that there was nothing between them, Flynn could return the favor, raising his leg between Ezekiel's to find him equally as hard. Ezekiel's lips broke away from his, for his breath to hitch at the contact. His eyes were dark and spit was smeared across his face. Flynn abandoned him swollen mouth, tilting his head to pay attention to that infuriatingly jawline. Ezekiel's fingers curled into the back of Flynn's jacket, and he moved against the rhythm of Flynn's leg, desperate for the contact. That sparked something in Flynn, all rational inhibitions abandoned to pay attention to this and only this. He pulled his leg back, stopping the movements. Ezekiel made some indignant sound, unable to pull himself away due to the way they were pressed together. Before he could rightly complain, as Flynn was sure he intended to, Flynn gave the curve of his ass a tight squeeze before moving his mouth to the younger man's neck and biting down. Ezekiel bucked against him, and let out a breathy groan that sent shivers down Flynn's spine. So, biting was a yes. Good to know.

Flynn felt a heat rise up in him, and seized with some sudden urgency, he reached to wrap his entire arm tight around the curve of Ezekiel's back. With a heave, he lifted the younger man up, spinning around and knocking the largest objects off his desk in the same movement with his free arm. Before he even blinked, Ezekiel was flat on his back on the desk, having been breathlessly thrown down on top of scattered papers. He took a moment to process it, and then grinned up at Flynn.

"Manhandling, eh? You're stronger than you look." Ezekiel said, in a pleased, appreciative tone. Flynn reached up to finish yanking his tie undone, tossing it aside. Then he paused, and turned his head back towards the door.

"I locked it when i came in, don't worry. And there's lube in the second drawer." Ezekiel informed him smugly, reaching to unbutton his own shirt. Flynn turned back to look down at him.

"I should have expected you to be prepared." Flynn said, not sure how he felt about this, but at this point he didn't care. He was too far gone now to turn back.

"I'm your personal assistant. It's my job to think ahead." Ezekiel said, with an air of mock self importance.

Flynn pressed forward, between Ezekiel's legs, to run his hands over the other man's chest and torso. Then he took over the job of unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it aside to run his hands over toned, smooth divots of his muscles.

"And you say I'm stronger than I look." Flynn muttered. Ezekiel opened his mouth to make some satisfied remark, but it was cut off by a moan when Flynn leaned to run his tongue over his left nipple, letting his hand pay attention to the other one. Ezekiel squirmed on the desk, legs awkwardly hanging off, back arcing up against Flynn's hot mouth.

Impatient as he was cocky, one of Ezekiel's hands tried to move between their bodies, reaching to rub himself through his jeans. Flynn intercepted him, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away, pressing it against the desk.

"Again with the manhandling." Ezekiel said, voice musing. Flynn sensed lines in the distance, and pulled up, to look down at the younger man.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" He asked, studying his features. Ezekiel scoffed.

"This isn't about me." He responded easily, as if it were obvious. That struck some sort of chord, in Flynn, and he felt a sudden determination.

"Yes, it is." He corrected, in a firm tone. Ezekiel furrowed his brow, but before he could ask what Flynn meant by that, the older man's hands were reaching to unbutton his jeans. Flynn's mouth moved down, kissing, licking and biting over his chest and his stomach. Ezekiel made a pleased humming sound, squirming under his ministrations.

Flynn undid his pants, and moved back, urging Ezekiel to lift his legs up so he could pulled them off. Ezekiel did so, kicking his shoes off as he went, and Flynn tossed the jeans over his shoulders. Ezekiel lifted his legs up, spreading them with a grin. In response, Flynn pushed his knees back down, earning a confused look. Then Flynn hooked his fingers in the elastic of Ezekiel's boxers, pausing to run his tongue over the line of his hipbone. Ezekiel's eyelids fluttered, as he was particularly sensitive there. He then realized what his boss intended to do, and his eyes snapped open.

"You don't have to-" He started to say, going to prop himself up on his elbow, but Flynn's hot mouth pressed against his cock through the fabric of his boxers, and he momentarily forgot words. He fell back onto his back with a groan as Flynn mouthed along the outline of his hardness, before moving to dispose of the boxers as well. To no one's surprise, they were red.

"I'll be honest, I thought this was going to be the other way around." Ezekiel said, voice a little tight as Flynn took his cock in his hand, giving it a light stroke. It was a good size, fitting fully in his hand, more than he had expected. Not that he'd spent any amount of time thinking about the size of the other man's genitals. Okay, that was a lie. He'd been thinking about it a lot.

Ezekiel let his head fall back, moaning. He looked so beautiful, spread out on Flynn's desk, making pleased and slightly desperate noises as Flynn stroked him up and down. Flynn moved his hand to push against his own bulge, but then thought better of it. He gave a few more strokes, as he leaned down to position his head between Ezekiel's leg's. He gave one slow, flat-tongued lick up the underside, avoiding the dark curls near the bottom, before wrapping his lips around the mushroomed head. Ezekiel's hips twitched.

"Flynn-" He breathed.

"That's Mr. Carson, to you." Flynn corrected lowly, pulling away again. Ezekiel pushed his head up, craning to look down at him and probably say something witty, but then Flynn's mouth was back on him, pulling in the entirety of his length, moving his tongue around it as he pushed his head down. Ezekiel's back arched, and his head practically cracked against the wood of the desk as he made some exclamation. His arm stretched to the side, to wrap his fingers around the edge of the desk. He held on for dear life as Flynn went to town, bobbing his head with expert ease, using his hand to contradict his movements with well timed strokes. Ezekiel's hips bucked again, this time a little too much. Flynn took his free hand and ran it up and down the younger man's spread out thighs, before pressing down a bit on the juncture where his leg met his hip. Not too much to hurt, but enough to keep him in place.

"Fuck, Mr. Carson-" Ezekiel said, and Flynn's own hardness ached in response as heat simmered underneath his skin. He found himself giving a slight hum of approval - or maybe it was a growl. Either way, the vibrations made Ezekiel shudder. He grinned to himself, not that Flynn could see that.

'Mr. Carson, sir, Mr. Carson, your tongue- fuck." Ezekiel moaned, cutting himself off as Flynn responded in kind with a particularly interesting twirl of said tongue. Flynn pulled off, pleased with himself, giving some strokes with his hand, his palm now wet with his own saliva.

"You're fucking good at that." Ezekiel huffed, taking a moment to collect himself. Flynn grinned, and let go, standing up straight again. He left the younger man hanging there, as he walked around his desk to open the second drawer on the right. Ezekiel succeeded in propping himself up on his elbows this time, turning his head to look at him with half lidded eyes.

Flynn pulled out the bottle Ezekiel had supposedly planted there.

"High quality stuff." Flynn noted, frowning down at the label.

"I'm a high maintenance girl." Ezekiel said mockingly. Flynn walked back around the desk, and Ezekiel pushed himself up a little further, snatching the lube out of Flynn's hand before he could even open it. Flynn thought about asking what he intended, but the expression on the younger man's face told him enough. Ezekiel moved to lay flat on his back again, pulling his knees up a little more, leaving himself properly exposed to the room.

He flicked open the bottle and gathered the substance on his fingers, keeping his eyes locked with Flynn's as he moved those fingers down to circle his own hole. Then he bit one of his plump lips as he pressed a lubed finger in, legs twitching slightly. Flynn moved closer, reaching to run his hands up and down Ezekiel's thighs in calming encouragement. His eyes remained fixed downwards, watching the captivating show of Ezekiel pushing his fingers in and out of himself. He was already up to two, he moved fast. Something Flynn already knew. Ezekiel made a slight whimpering sound, as he tried to maneuver himself into a little more of a folded position, reaching deeper, eagerly stroking himself from the inside out.

Flynn took this as his cue to take over. He reached across the younger man to grab the lube, spreading some on his own fingers. He ran his other hand over Ezekiel's active arm, sending the sentiment wordlessly. Ezekiel pulled his fingers out of himself, opening eyes that had fluttered closed for a moment.

Flynn leaned down, draping his body over Ezekiel's to lick his way into that mouth again. He moved his hand down to press two fingers into that tight heat. He groaned slightly, into Ezekiel's mouth, mind racing to imagine that same feeling around his cock. He pressed in deeper, faster, crooking his fingers upward to drag along him. Ezekiel moaned, pressing against him, and then made a slight keening sound as Flynn pressed further, searching for his prostate. He was satisfied he'd found it when the younger man cursed, bucking against him.

"More." He gasped, legs wrapping up around Flynn's waist. As Flynn pushed in a third finger, Ezekiel groaned, letting his head fall to the side. Flynn licked up the twist of his neck before sucking on the sensitive spot, right under the curve of his jaw.

"More." He said again, insistently, impatiently. Flynn stopped moving his fingers, turning and pulling up a little to meet those dark, blown out eyes.

"More, sir." He said, grinning slightly, eyes flicking down to look at his spit-slicked lips. Ezekiel pushed against his fingers, pulling slightly with his legs.

"More, sir. Please. I want you, want you in me. I've been thinking about it all the time, Mr. Carson." He said earnestly, a glint in his eyes. Flynn's felt arousal pool in his gut, and he pulled out his fingers, giving the younger man another heated kiss before he straightened up again. Ezekiel let go of him, letting his legs fall apart, watching eagerly as Flynn undid his belt.

"You have?" Flynn asked. Ezekiel nodded, smiling deviously.

"Spread out on my bed at night, fingering myself, thinking about what it would feel like to have you fill me up, Mr. Carson. Sir.." Ezekiel said lowly, adding the title at the end, as an afterthought that sent shivers down the older man's spine.

"Fuck." Was all Flynn could respond to that, kicking off his shoes and slacks and taking his straining member into his hand. The image the other man was painting filled his mind, making him groan slightly. He reached for the lube, spreading it quickly over himself, before he reached out and grabbed Ezekiel by the hips, tugging him down the desk, till his ass was hanging off the edge a bit. The younger man gave a yelp at the unexpected movement, which turned into a laugh.

"That's the idea, sir." Ezekiel insisted, smiling as Flynn pressed closer, wrapping his legs around his waist again. Flynn leaned over him again, propping himself up by putting his palm flat on the desk next to Ezekiel's head. He gave himself a few more experimental strokes, looking down at the space between them, and hesitated.

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe we should get a con-" He started to say, starting to mentally backtrack.

"I'm clean. You're clean, from your medical records. Now hurry up and fuck me, sir." Ezekiel said impatiently. Flynn furrowed his brow, mind pulled aside on that track for a moment.

"Did you really go through my medical-"

"I want you inside of me. All of you, Mr. Carson," Ezekiel insisted, reaching with one hand to run it over Flynn's arm. Stunned into action, Flynn dove to capture the younger man's lips. Ezekiel moved up to meet him, as Flynn slowly pushed in. Ezekiel gasped against his mouth, but rocked into him. His legs tightened around Flynn. Flynn's other hand came to rest on the underside of Ezekiel's hips. Ezekiel's back arced once more, as Flynn slowly slide the whole way in. Flynn stopped, taking a moment to breathe. Ezekiel wrapped an arm up around him, clawing slightly at his back.

"More." He insisted lowly, like a moan itself.

"More, sir." Flynn corrected, another growl reverberating into Ezekiel's ear. He punctuated the growl by pulling almost all the way out, before sliding in quicker this time, and pushing deeper. Ezekiel's nails dug deeper into his back as he moved with him, moaning Flynn's name, Mr. Carson, sir,, and a string of expletives. Interrupted only by low breaths from Flynn, and a more occasional, guttering growl.

Fynn moved faster, biting down on the man's throat as they rocked faster and faster, causing the desk to creak and groan with them. Pleasure ricocheted through him, lost in the heat, the sensation, the pressure building between them. Flynn started to say things, he didn't know what. Sweet nothings and growls mixed as they rolled off his tongue, heartbeat rising to echo the one thrumming beneath his ministrations. As his thrusts grew more rapid, they also grew more precise, changing angles to make Ezekiel whine and groan this way and that.

Knowing he wanted the other man to reach the edge first, Flynn moved a hand to reach between then, pulling Ezekiel's hardness at the same rhythm as his thrusts. It was effective from the second he began, Ezekiel grew louder, his body tensed up. He threw his head back as he moved against Flynn, speeding up his own rocking. Eager as always.

Flynn sped up, and they were practically slamming into the desk. With every stroke against his walls and his cock, Ezekiel tensed up more and more, trembling as heat coursed from his gut into every extremity. With a shout - one Flynn worried the others in the office might have heard - Ezekiel seized up, strips of come painting the space between their bodies. Ezekiel trembled, shout teetering off into a groan. Then he collapsed back onto the table. The spasm of his muscles brought Flynn closer than ever, and it took just a few more strokes before he was coming, and gave an embarrassing shout himself as he bottomed out into Ezekiel one last time. Shit. If their coworkers hadn't heard the first shout, they'd definitely heard the second one.

For a few minutes, they just breathed, before Flynn moved away, pulling out of him. Ezekiel rolled off the desk, hopping to his feet, stooping to pick up his jeans. He seemed surprisingly spry for a man who'd just been fucked into nearly breaking a desk. Flynn just stared at him for a moment, the reality of the situation settling in on him as the pleasure and the passion faded.

But before he could process exactly what he'd just done, Ezekiel was yanking on his clothes, running a hand through his hair, and quickly striding towards Flynn.

"Good one. Better go wash up." He said, pecking Flynn on the lips. Then he moved around him, heading for the door.

"Thank you," Ezekiel called back, turning to look over his shoulder. "Sir."

Flynn went home early that night, canceling all his appointments. He slammed his apartment door behind him so hard that the pictures on his shelves rattled. Pictures of a wonderful life that he didn't deserve, smiling people who shouldn't love a man like him.

He paced back and forth, skin crawling and itching underneath his rumpled clothes. The events of the day replayed in his mind, tearing away at his sanity as if it were tissue paper. How could he have done this? How could he have fucked his father's lover? On his father's desk? Blatantly during the work day? Like some Wall Street mogul with girls lined up in his office, the kind that never did any real work?

God, what had he done? He felt like throwing up. This was the most inappropriate, unacceptable-

Flynn put his face in his hands, as the world spun around him. He had always been impulsive, and ruled by passion, easily distracted. But he'd never imagined he'd lose control like that, never imagined he'd give into such temptation-

But he had. God, he had. And now this mess was deeper than ever, and he wanted to just disappear.

For the next few days, Flynn avoided Ezekiel like the plague. He locked the door everyday, and he barely left his office. He had scrubbed his desk clean over and over, but every time he looked at it, his mind was pulled back to what they'd done on top of it. Which led to an embarrassing situation in his pants more than once. And every time he took care of said situation, he only felt more disgusted with himself.

He tried to bury himself in work, half distracting himself and have trying to make up for what he'd done. He should have known his charade wouldn't last.

It had been a week since the incident, and he was taking a break, leaning against the wall and looking out the window, sipping his coffee thoughtfully.

"If you spend all your time looking, you'll regret it." Came a familiar voice from behind him, causing his blood to run cold. He froze, eyes unfocusing as he focused on the presence behind him.

"You picked the lock." Flynn realized, as they situation clicked.

"I have a knack for opening doors. And you have a knack for hiding from your own employees." Ezekiel replied, sounding both smug and somewhat...disappointed?

"I'm not hiding from anyone." Flynn lied, the hand holding his mug shaking slightly.

"You won't even look at me! Did you get an embarrassing tattoo on your face? Or are you really that embarrassed from having a little of fun?" Ezekiel's voice demanded in a huff. Flynn summoned all of his strength, and spun to face his alleged personal assistant. He drew himself up taller.

"Embarrassed, no. Ashamed." He declared. Ezekiel's smug smile and quirked eyebrow faded into slight surprise. He obviously hadn't been expecting that answer, or maybe he hadn't been expecting the harshness of it.

"Everyone lets loose sometimes, man, it's not that big of a deal." Ezekiel said incredulously, taken aback by his gravity. Flynn's face screwed up, and he shook his head. He gestured at the desk, tripping over his own trepidation.

"This - that - that was beyond inappropriate, and irresponsible, and just - it was just wrong! We won't be discussing it anymore, please see yourself out, Mr. Jones." Flynn declared, straightening his tie. Ezekiel rolled his eyes, making his way around the desk.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Carson. Cold feet isn't going to rid of me. Looks like loosening you up will take longer than I thought." He said lowly, amused, pressing into Flynn's personally space as he ran his hand over his chest. Flynn's heart fluttered, as Ezekiel's hand moved lower. Flynn dropped his mug and let it shatter against the floor, so he could grab Ezekiel's wrist and pull it away with one hand, while pushing him back with the other. Ezekiel stumbled slightly, instinctively gripping his wrist away as he did. He blinked at Flynn in shock and alarm.

"Well, shit, mate. You've really got a stick up your ass, don't you?" Ezekiel accused in an affronted manner, pride wounded.

"At least I haven't made a career out of it." Flynn snapped.

Ezekiel blinked at him again, confused for a split second. Then his eyes narrowed.

"Wait, what?"

"I know that this," Flynn angrily gestured between the two of them. "Is why my father kept you around! And i'm not him, you're barking up the wrong tree. Or should I say begging?" He sneered, suddenly just so angry. Angry at his father, for cheating on his mother, for not being the man Flynn had thought he was. At himself, for taking this job, at giving into the temptation and doing just what his father had. At Ezekiel, for having the audacity to do any of this, for walking around and taking whatever he pleased.

The minute that his eyes once again met with the younger man's, Flynn knew. He knew he had made a very, very wrong turn somewhere along this road. Ezekiel's eyes first widened in shock as he realized what Flynn was saying. And then a fire burst forth in the younger man, right before Flynn, his usually warm brown gaze sharpening and filling with the heat of hell and heaven. Flynn felt nearly cut by it, suddenly frozen as he watched the repercussions of his actions play out before him.

Ezekiel's usually casual, confident stance fell away, and he seemed to seep anger. Not the wet, emotional, uncontrollable, choking anger. No, it was the dry, hot, steady anger. The kind that coursed through you deeper, that simmered. An active volcano versus a long dormant one, just beginning to heat up again.

"Excuse me?" Ezekiel demanded lowly, voice composed of blades and interrogation lights.

Flynn stared at him, dread spiking. Oh, he'd fucked up.

"I-" He started to say dumbly, but his voice was soon cut at the head.

"You think i'm some office tramp?" Ezekiel asked. Flynn glanced to either side, slack jawed, trying to process this situation. And trying to figure out how to get out of it. He had never seen someone look so offended.

"Really? You think i'm a whore? A homewrecker? A fucking bimbo?" Ezekiel asked, voice raising in volume, as the more unstable he seemed to become. "You think I was your father's fuck toy? You- that's what you think of me? That's what you think of your father?" He practically shouted. Flynn only stared at him. Ezekiel waited for a breath, one heaving breath of emotions, a split second of desperation for some explanation. But Flynn had none. He had nothing to say, the truth was too evident. His truth, that was.

For a moment, it looked like Ezekiel was going to explode. But then he reeled back in, visibly settling back into a bubbling, stewing resentment. His eyes hardened, his gaze growing so cold that Flynn felt a shiver pass through him. As if someone had just walked over his grave.

"Fuck you. I can't fucking -" Ezekiel gave a bitter laugh, and then pointed at Flynn. "Fuck you. I don't know why I bothered - you fucking prick! I don't know why I even care! Fuck you!" He exclaimed, spinning on his heel and storming for the door. Flynn watched him go, bewildered guilt settling into his bones. He flinched when the younger man slammed the door behind him.

A long while passed, as Flynn stared at the door Ezekiel had left through.

"I fucked up." He whispered dumbly to the empty air, head still spinning.

Ezekiel did not come into work for the rest of the week. Or the week after that. Flynn wallowed in guilt and remorse, avoiding his colleagues and lamenting over his mistake so. And boy, had he made a lot.

The worst part was, he was now completely in the dark as to just what kind of mistakes he had made. Obviously, his father hadn't been having an illicit affair with Ezekiel. Which left him right back at the drawing board, wondering what Ezekiel and his father had been to each other.

And now he only had more questions to add to the board - if what he had thought about Ezekiel was wrong, then why had Ezekiel been so set upon seducing him? What motivation did Ezekiel have to pursue him? Why had his father made Flynn promise to take care of him?

A promise Flynn now felt like he had surely failed. He didn't know how to feel about that. To be honest, he didn't know how to feel about his father at all. Why, why, why? Where had Ezekiel come from? What was their relationship? If his father hadn't been sneaking around fucking him, what had they been doing?

As his confusion drove him made, and as the days without Ezekiel in the office at all wore on, Flynn finally couldn't take it any more. He sought out Baird in the warm friday morning, finding her going over a substantial amount of paperwork in her own office, a few levels down.

"Mr. Carson, sir, what brings you here?" She asked, sitting up straighter as he pushed open the door. He cleared his throat as he entered, straightening his tie.

"Hello, Eve. I, uh," He stood a little straighter. He could do this. "I came to ask about Ezekiel Jones. About his place here at the company."

Eve's face fell, and she adopted a tactically expression. "Sir, I really don't think -"

"I am the CEO of this company, now, Baird. Not you. Not Ezekiel Jones. Not Ray. Me.. And I demand to know what is going on with my own company!" Flynn cut her off, raising his chin. Eve's eyebrow followed suit, and she slowly stood up to face him, strength oozing from her.

"With all due respect, Mr. Carson, the board of directors is still considering whether or not you should be the CEO of this company. And to disclose top secret information to someone as volatile as you still are would be very unwise. The most I will tell you, at the moment, sir, is that Ezekiel Jones is the reason this company is what it is today. Your father, Ray, Jenkins - their dreams and all their efforts to sponsor a better tomorrow," Eve's words rang sharply with the company slogan. "Would have been for nothing if not for him."

Flynn screwed up his face, reaching to run his hand through his hair in further distress.

"What does that even mean-" He started to exclaim.

"Mr. Carson, i've got some important work to do. And you do as well, and so does Mr. Jones." Eve announced firmly.

"Work? He isn't even here!" Flynn exclaimed, but another firm look from Eve sent him running, even more confused than when he'd come. If that was possible.

Another week of torment followed, filled with a lack of sleep and a lack of Ezekiel. He tried so hard to think of the situation from every point of view. Was Ezekiel some secret genius? But why would that have to be hidden? And why would Ezekiel want to fuck him?

Was Ezekiel some sort of responsibility to his father? Did his father owe him some debt?

The concept that perhaps Ezekiel was related to his father rose up, which lead to such mortifyingly horrific connotations that if it proved true, Flynn knew just how he'd kill himself as a result. But even that wouldn't explain everything.

The cold afternoon air was splattering rain on his windows when his phone rang, and Flynn recognized the theme instantly. His heart skipped a beat, and he practically flew out of his chair to grab the phone.

"Ray?" He asked, heart aching as the held the cold glass to his ear.

"Flynn, my boy! Have you missed me?" That familiar, booming voice exclaimed. Flynn sagged slightly in his chair, smiling.

"You're back then? How was the mission? How was Nepal? The Himalayas?" Flynn asked eagerly.

"Woah, woah, slow down there. I just got into the port an hour or so ago, been letting everyone know i'm back. All that stuff can wait until you get down here and give me a proper hug!" Ray assured him warmly.

"I'm on my way!" Flynn practically rocketed out of his chair, not even bothering to tell anyone where he was going or to even grab his coat.

He took a cab to the port, all his torment and turmoil forgotten in the yearning excitement to see Ray once again. It had been five long years since he'd last seen him. The man was like an uncle to him. The whole cab ride his leg bounced up and down and his emotions followed likewise. This would be the first time seeing him since his father's death, since this had all happened. But god, seeing him, it was going to be so great.

The storm started to clear as he made his way downtown, and the sun started to filter down and warm up the air. The bay air was refreshing, and the stroll down the docks loosening up the tension in Flynn's stance ever so slightly.

That was, until he rounded the pier leading to Ray's magnificent ship, only to lay eyes on none other than Ezekiel Jones. Flynn froze, and shuffled slightly behind a large stack of crates, peering up the loading ramp. Ray and Ezekiel were standing at the top of it, as if Ezekiel was leaving, and they were saying goodbye. Ray had a look of absolute love on his face, and had a hand on Ezekiel's shoulder. Ezekiel did not look like his usual confident, careless self. He looked haggard, with sagging shoulders and miserable, burdened eyes. Flynn watched as they exchanged words he couldn't hear, and then Ray pulled Ezekiel into one of his big bear hugs. A bear hug that lasted a particularly long amount of time, longer than just business partners or acquaintances should be hugging. They also, obviously, had some sort of connection.

Then Ezekiel bide farewell and headed down the ramp, walking down the dock directly towards Flynn. Flynn stood up straight, ran a hand through his hair, and then walk out from around the corner of the stack of crates just as Ezekiel was getting close. Ezekiel froze momentarily at the sight of him, eyes going wide, before his posture hardened and his eyes narrowed.

"Ezekiel-" Flynn started to say, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, but it was obvious Ezekiel was having none of it. Ezekiel strode past him, knocking into his shoulder and storming off. Flynn watched him go, throwing his hands in the air in distress.

When he headed down the dock and up the ramp, Ray was waiting with open arms. They hugged tightly, and Flynn let himself bury his head in the man's shoulder for a while. They both needed it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to say goodbye. I tried to get back, but by the time I was able to leave the coast, it was too late." Ray lamented when they pulled apart. Flynn nodded.

"Don't worry, he understood, we all understood. He died relatively peacefully, so, there's that." Flynn said, trying to keep as much composure as possible. Ray tilted his head, eyes full of empathy.

"But he hasn't left you much peace, has he?" Ray asked. Flynn felt his face fell, and Ray wrapped an arm around him.

"Come inside, let's have a drink and talk."

Ray's ship was as splendid as ever. They talked about the business, his father, the family, and the work Ray had been doing in the Himalayas. They reconnected and reminisced while sitting on the top deck, in two extravagant chairs as they drank whiskey and looked out over the water.

Soon, the conversation came to the point they both knew it was bound for.

"So, your father told you to take care of Ezekiel," Ray said, in between sips. "But passed before he could bring himself to explain why?"

Flynn swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to maintain his calm. He stared into his glass, inspecting the air bubbles in the rapidly melting ice. He wanted to talk to Ray about this, maybe finally get some answers, but he wanted to be sure not to reveal some of the less than honorable things he'd done.

"Yeah. And nobody else would tell me why, nobody will tell me who this guy was to my father, or what he is to the company. I can't get an answer out of him, Jenkins, anyone at the company, my mother...please, God, please tell me you have answers. I can't do this anymore." Flynn begged, voice cracking in desperation a little as he looked up at Ray. Ray squinted out at the horizon, distant expression marred by sunlight and soft stubble.

"All in due time, my boy. What I'd like to first address, however, is the answer you… assumed on your own." Ray said, a slightly angry tone to it. Flynn blanched.

"He - he told you? Is that why he was here?" Flynn asked.

"He was here because he's like family to me. Just as much as you. And he was like family to your father, and he's just as torn up as the rest of us about his passing. Perhaps more. Not that'd he'd show it." Ray sighed. Flynn frowned. More upset? More upset than all his father's lifelong friends and family? How could Ray of all people say something like that? Who was this guy?

"But he's not family, right? Please say we're not related!" Flynn asked intently, fearing the answer. Ray chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, no, no. He's not some long lost son. Not that i'd begrudge you for making that kind of assumption based off of your given information." Ray took a long drink, and then smacked his lips. "However...Flynn, I love you very much. I really do. But I'll admit, when Ezekiel told me everything that had been going on between you two," Ray began. Flynn wanted to throw up. Oh god, everything?

"I'm very disappointed in you, Flynn." Ray finally announced, turning to stare him down.

"What? Okay, I know I messed up, but- " Flynn's throat tightened and he threw his hands up. "What was I supposed to think! This is all just a big mess, and I just - I didn't know! I didn't know what to think!" He exclaimed. Ray held up a hand.

"I know, I know. I don't blame you. I'm just disappointed in this whole situation. I care about you both, but you can both be a little thick when it comes to other people. For your information, your father was not Ezekiel's sugar daddy." Ray gave another slight chuckle, tilting his head back. "God, if he heard that...he'd laugh his ass off. And probably vomit."

Flynn felt guilt and further confusion twisting his gut into knots, and he leaned over his chair, closer to Ray. "Then what is he? Who the hell is Ezekiel Jones?" He asked, practically begging. Ray looked at him, then back at the horizon, taking another drink.

"Your father's vision was to push technology to the edge, to strive for the future, to fund genius and cultivate imagination. And with our help, as you know, he quickly became the best, getting closer and closer to leading the way towards tomorrow. And that made a lot of people unhappy. Your father had a lot of enemies, people that wanted his success, wanted our innovation. More than you know. It's a dog eat dog world out there, Flynn. And in this day and age, that doesn't mean scary men in suits or men with big muscles. Zeros and ones, that's all it took to rip everything your father had built apart." Ray said. Flynn furrowed his brow.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, mind beginning to paint a sinister picture.

"Ezekiel Jones was a thief, Flynn. And a good one. And I don't just mean breaking into banks and staging elaborate heists. Although, not to say that wasn't a forte of his as well." Ray said with a slight smile. Flynn blinked.

"Wait, he's a criminal?" Flynn said, sitting back in his chair in shock. That was not what he'd been expecting. Ray nodded.

"He was. Still is, depending on your perspective. Quickly heading towards world class, at the age of nineteen. His real specialty, though, was digital. He could be the greatest cybercriminal this decade, if he pleased. The term hacker honestly doesn't even do it justice." Ray said, an air of awe in his tone that Flynn rarely heard.

"What does this have to do with my father?" Flynn demanded. Ray gave a heavy sigh, his big shoulders sagging sadly.

"Ezekiel...did not have a good life. He'd been alone, cast out, abused, used, on the run, living by his wits his whole life. When he started pulling off bigger and bigger jobs, both physically and digitally, his skills gained notice from certain groups of people. Very bad people, who would do anything to gain the upperhand technologically, and in society. They picked Ezekiel up when he was sixteen. At first, just job offers. But they're very good at what they do, and they soon drew in his more permanent loyalty with the illusion that they weren't just an organization, but a family, acted as if they really cared. But they were just using him." Ray shook his head, and seemed to hold genuine hatred towards these people. He must really care about Ezekiel. Flynn let this all sink in, trying to wrap his head around the information that Ezekiel was not only a criminal, but a criminal genius.

"They wanted my father." Flynn realized. Ray nodded.

"Wanted what he had, but yes. He was a prime target. One day, your father woke up, and everything had been compromised. The accounts, the whole database, top secret research, everything. Even his personal accounts. Everything was gone. The money, the information. Your father was smart, though, smarter than many give him credit for. He quickly tracked down the infiltrator. And while he was smart, as you know...your father could also be rather rash. He went after him himself." Ray stated. "He expected a criminal, he expected a fight, and he was ready for one. But when he caught up to him, in a hotel in Dubai...he found a scared, angry kid. A kid who, in his exact words, looked 'remarkably alone'." Ray said.

Flynn closed his eyes, bowing his head as understanding began to wash over him. Of course. He could see it, he could see it so clearly. Of course his father would look at a criminal that had almost destroyed him, and see past that. And he also began to piece together a much clearer picture of Ezekiel, one with a depth that made him finally feel like a real, genuine person. A person who had every right to hate Flynn.

"Your father did what i'm sure you can imagine he did," Ray said, with a nostalgic fondness in his words. "He offered him a job. Working for him to protect his interests from whoever may attempt something like that again. And even to use his…skills," Ray swallowed, giving a slight guilty shrug. "To get information on your father's enemies. In a...less than legal way. Not to steal from them, mind you, just to...well, spy on them, for lack of a better word. So, obviously, with that job being of less than legal practice, it couldn't exactly be official. So his official job -"

"Is to pretend to be his assistant? While he does all of that?" Flynn exclaimed, epiphany coming upon him like a fall of dominoes. Suddenly, it all made sense. Especially Eve's behavior. Ezekiel's nonchalance with his supposed job.

"Indeed. He gave him a well paid fake job as his alleged assistant, a real job that used his skillset for good, and then bought him a place to live. But he did more than that. He took him into his heart, he believed in him. He gave him somewhere to belong, he gave him somewhere to be safe. He even paid off the group that Ezekiel had been a part of, to keep them from coming after Ezekiel. They are still coming after your father, but he made a deal with him to leave Ezekiel out of it. Ezekiel was still paranoid and terrified, though, that they would not stick to the deal. He feared they'd want retribution for his betrayal, and he feared that your father was just using him as well. For a year, I think, we watched him constantly start at every little thing. He was always ready to go on the run, sometimes he even made it to the airport when he got too spooked. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he was always looking over his shoulder for his past to catch up." Ray set his glass down on the table between them, condensation dripping from the rim, catching the afternoon light. Then he leaned over the arm of his own chair, locking gazes with Flynn.

"Your father gave Ezekiel a life, and a home, and friends. He was the first person to ever treat that boy like he was a human being. He used to drop whatever he was doing, whether it was day or night, sun or shine, to go calm him down whenever he was sure that someone was coming after him. They grew very close, but only platonically, like family at most. And we grew close with him, I care about him, he's got such a good heart. And such a bright mind." Ray gave a sad smile, eyes glinting. "He cared about your father very much. He knew, maybe even better than I did or your mother did, how hard he was pushing himself. He tried constantly to get him to slow down, constantly trying to get him to take vacations, telling him to go home to his wife instead of staying extra hours. He even started to do his best to help with his own work, like an actual assistant, because he was just so worried. And when he started to get sick… I can't imagine what Ezekiel is going through, losing him. He was everything to him." Ray's eyes pricked with tears, salt water spilled beside the ocean's birth, as if there wasn't enough irony permeating the air.

Flynn felt a great weight settle on him, composed of many things. All his questions had been answered, and the truth proved far greater a burden. Silence echoed for what felt like ages, interrupted only by the churn of the sea. One thing still remained, however.

"Why me?" Flynn whispered. Ray quirked an eyebrow.

"Whatever do you mean, Flynn?" Ray inquired.

"Why would he...pursue me, then? Why did he...why would he want that from me?" Flynn asked, frowning in puzzlement. Ray shook his head, giving Flynn a splendidly exhausted look.

"For a genius with more PhD's than I care to count, you really can be an idiot sometimes, my boy. You run along through the world, not stopping to enjoy the people around you, as if something's trying to catch you. You and Ezekiel are a lot alike, in that respect. Gingerbread men trying to pretend they don't need houses." Ray lamented. He rubbed his chin, tilting his head at Flynn.

"Has it occurred to you that he actually likes you?" Ray asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's ridiculous." Flynn denied near instantly. Ray returned to leaning back in his chair, shrugging all the while, with the wisdom of an owl too old to take flight, but young enough to know it didn't need to.

"Stranger things have happened."

He talked to Ray until the sun went down, and by the time he got home to his apartment, he felt like his soul still had leagues of midnight to traverse. He lay awake that night, an overwhelming weight preventing both laughter and tears. It was just...so much. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been this wrong, and he'd been wrong a lot. How could he fuck up this bad?

Suddenly, laying there alone in the dark, everything hit Flynn at once. He couldn't breathe from the grief, god, he wished his father were here. He missed him so much, he couldn't bear it. His heart was so heavy it struggled to beat. Guilt and grief battled for dominance, and he curled to bury his face in his pillow. He wanted to give into the weight and give up, let someone else take care of the damned company and his whole damned fucked up life.

Flynn had gotten Ezekiel's address from his mother. It was a nice apartment, top floor of an upclass building. The stairs seemed to drag at Flynn's feet as he climbed them, beckoning him back down to a semblance of emotional safety. Come all ye faithful, there's railings here.

When he found the correct door, he stood silently in front of it for what felt like decades. Finally, he raised his fist - only to freeze one more.

He owed this to Ezekiel, and to his father, and to himself. Even if it didn't feel like a good thing in the moment. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, before he knocked thrice.

The door opened soon enough. Apparently, Ezekiel wasn't the type of person to look through the keyhole first, because he looked shocked when he laid eyes on Flynn. Then his surprise turned to hardened anger, as walls fell down around him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ezekiel demanded. Flynn swallowed again.

"I came to talk. To apologize." Flynn replied. Ezekiel narrowed his eyes.

"Wow, you finally know enough about the situation to apologize? Good on you, I don't want to hear it." Ezekiel dismissed, going to shut the door. Flynn whipped out a hand to stop it from closing, pressing himself into the doorway.

"Ray told me almost everything, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, and i'm an idiot, and - please, just talk to me for a little, and then you never have to see me again." Flynn found himself nearly begging, which was as cringeworthy as it came. But he could swallow his pride, if it meant getting closure on this situation.

Ezekiel blinked, surprised at how he was grovelling. Then he glanced towards the inside of his apartment, and then back at Flynn warily.

"If Ray told you everything, what's there to talk about?" He asked incredulously.

"How much of an asshole I am, how sorry I am, my father, the fine tuned specifics on why you should hate me?" Flynn suggested. Ezekiel's eyes narrowed further, slits of judgement. Then he huffed, and opened the door to let Flynn inside.

"Make it quick."

Flynn's shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped past Ezekiel, reaching to loosen his tie nervously. His eyes couldn't help but flick around the space rapidly, drinking it in and breaking it down into the information it offered on the other man. It was rather minimalist, very basic and open. What stood out the most above the tones of grey and the simple furnishing where pictures. Pictures, all in simple black frames, all over. On the walls and on shelves, pictures of his father, Ray, Jenkins, Eve, Cassandra, Jake, Lucy from Engineering, some people he didn't recognize - was that Frank Stein? The football player? Pictures from all over. His father looked splendidly happy in them. So did Ezekiel.

The door shut with a click, and Ezekiel crossed his arms.

"Better start talking." He said coldly, as Flynn turned to face him. Flynn glanced away, rolling his head slightly.

"I...this whole situation was just a misunderstanding." He started.

"Oh, I understand perfectly. You think your father's a cheater, and you think i'm a whore." Ezekiel sneered.

"No! I mean, " Flynn swallowed, throwing his hands away as he let his pretense fall. "I did. I did think that, and i'm sorry. I was making all the wrong connections because nobody would give me all the dots." He explained. Ezekiel scoffed.

"Because you asked everyone who had no right to be talking! Why didn't you ask me, you idiot?"

Flynn opened and closed his mouth. "I- it would have been awkward."

"Right. And fucking me under the pretense i'm a whore, and then telling me i'm disgusting wasn't awkward." Ezekiel deadpanned, looking him up and down in near disbelief that he could be this thick.

Flynn shook his head. "Woah, woah, woah, I never said you were disgusting."

"You might as well have!" Ezekiel exclaimed.

"No, jesus - even if you were a whore, you wouldn't be disgusting. I mean, you'd make a good one, not that you should be one but if you were you'd be one of those, like, high class ones? No, that's bad, I didn't. You aren't. I wouldn't -" Flynn tried to salvage, beginning to hate the sound of his own voice. He pulled at his hair and clenched his jaws shut, not allowing any more words to pass through his mouth. Ezekiel squinted at him.

"Are you having a stroke or something?" He asked warily.

"Honestly? I wish I was. I'd probably deserve it." Flynn muttered. And it would be an escape from this situation.

"Probably. So, i'm an escort now? Guess your father has expensive taste, then? That's the part I really can't understand, did you even know your dad?" Ezekiel demanded, getting a bit more riled up. "How could you ever think in a million years he'd cheat on Margie?"

Flynn's gut twisted. "That's the part that shocked me the most when I thought of it, trust me, because I couldn't believe it! Of course I knew my father! I should have known better, i'm sorry, I was just so confused and frustrated and I wasn't thinking straight, I haven't been since he died and I should have done better, I should be doing, I have responsibilities now and I had a responsibility to you and I broke it and now everything is screwed up, it's all screwed up, fucked and ruined and awkward, unpleasant, disagreeable, grievous-" Flynn's words grew more and more distressed, and Ezekiel finally raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Okay, just hold it. Listing synonyms isn't going to help." Ezekiel shut him down, and Flynn pursed his lips as there was a beat of silence. Ezekiel groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Do you want a drink? Because there's no way i'm dealing with this sober." He asked starkly. Flynn swallowed past yet another lump in his throat.

"God, please." He breathed in response. Ezekiel crossed the living room to the table in the far left, pulling out whiskey that looked particularly expensive.

"Take a seat before you fall down, dude." Ezekiel suggested, popping open two cans of coke. Flynn took a tentative seat on his couch, watching as Ezekiel mixed the pop and the alcohol in two glasses with ice. His heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute, a stark contrast from how he had felt before coming here.

Ezekiel turned to him, handing him a drink that Flynn accepted gratefully. Then the younger man sat in the leather chair across from him, knocking half the drink back in a few gulps. Flynn did the same, relishing the burn.

"I really am sorry. So, so sorry…" Flynn sighed in miserable self hatred, shaking his head as he stared down at the dark liquid in his glass. Ezekiel's steady bitterness faded a little, and he looked towards the window.

"Don't be. Because I am." He said, with darkness behind his inflections. Flynn looked up, frowning in confusion. Ezekiel had spans of dusk and distance imbued in his frame.

"What?" Flynn asked, eyes flicking over him to try and read more information.

"Ray told you about how I met your dad, right?" Ezekiel asked, taking another long drink.

"Yes. He told me you were a thief. You were trying to steal from him, from his enemies." Flynn recalled. Ezekiel nodded.

"Those enemies," Ezekiel, seeming to struggle with being so open. "Were the only family I had. At least, I thought they were family."

"Ray said something about that. He said my father...gave you a home. And I don't doubt it. He always sees the best in people." Flynn said softly, nostalgically, remembering how the man's smile could light up the room.

"Sometimes," Ezekiel carried on with a weight to him. "I feel like your father didn't see good in me. He put it there. I wasn't as dumb as I pretended to be, when I was back with those...people. I knew deep down they were just using me. That's why it didn't take a whole lot of convincing to leave them." Ezekiel explained.

"You did? Then...why wouldn't you leave earlier? If you don't mind me asking, I mean." Flynn gestured to him awkwardly, knowing he was on a thin rope and had no right to ask questions. "You don't seem like the type to tolerate being screwed over."

Ezekiel laughed, and it was a bitter, ironic, hollow laugh. He shook his head, taking another drink.

"No, I don't, do I? But...that was all your old man. Before him, I was a lot more…" Ezekiel tilted his head. "Eager to please." He said, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he remembered his past self. Flynn raised his eyebrows in intrique. Then Ezekiel glanced at him, before glancing away again, shaking his head.

"Well, the point is, I knew they were using me. And...well, it was all I really had, so, I went with it. More than went with it. I did anything they asked, any job. And... I really was as big of a whore as they come, anyone who I could I fucked. Trying to be more desirable, more useful, I guess. So. It's not like you're wrong. I bet that just kinda oozes off me, especially with you being...all Sherlock Holmes and what not." Ezekiel grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "I actually did make a move on your dad one time. I realized I could trust him, that he wasn't using me, and that was like, unbelievable. So I figured I could make sure it didn't get ruined somehow by making myself even more worth keeping around. I mean, that sounds pathetic. Well, it was, but, the logic was questionable - but he handled it well. As well as one could I guess. So. Yeah. Escort is probably too nice of a term." Ezekiel admitted, getting up and walking towards the window, as if suddenly interested in his curtains.

Flynn watched him walk away, floored. The bombshell of the century had just been dropped on him. A horrifying concept occurred to him, and his heart wrenched.

"Is...that what you were doing with me? Trying to make sure I had a reason to keep you around?" Flynn asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"No, not really. Well, a little bit. But i've mostly gotten past all that stuff. No, with you it was different." Ezekiel said haltingly, not looking back at him.

"That's the part that throws me." Flynn confessed. "I just...I couldn't imagine any other reason someone like you would want me. But if it wasn't what I thought, and if it wasn't that...what was it?" He asked, holding his breath as the question lingered in the air. Silence ruled.

"You're not a complete asshole." Ezekiel stated, after chugging the last of his drink, and leaning to set the glass aside. Then he turned to Flynn, and he shrugged.

"I like you. You're smart, and you're all over the place, and not that bad looking. And you…" Ezekiel sighed. "I knew you before, and your father talked about you a lot. You were living your dream. Traveling, learning, exploring, searching for clues to aliens or whatever it is that archaeologists do. And you gave all of it up to come here…" Ezekiel shrugged. "You gave everything up for your father, his dream, and all the people here. That's...one of the most selfless things i've ever seen. Not to say much since i'm a pretty selfish guy. I just…" Ezekiel seemed to struggle with words, as if being open about his emotions was physically difficult.

Flynn drank this all in, heart skipping a surprisingly large beat. He couldn't remember the last time someone talked to him like this, the last time someone made him feel as irritated, moved and exposed all at once.

"So, you...like me? That was your way of trying to start a relationship?" Flynn attempted to fill in. Ezekiel scoffed.

"Hell no. A relationship? In my wildest dreams. People like you don't have relationships with people like me. Besides, i'm Ezekiel Jones. I'm the awesome lone wolf." He laughed, with a bitter reality to it. Flynn frowned, considering the connotations of that statement. With everything he knew now...it was obvious Ezekiel hid some very low self esteem underneath all that abrasive confidence.

And Flynn felt worse by the minute, the more he learned how badly he'd fucked this up. The more he learned how he had only served to add to that low self esteem. It was nearly disconcerting, for Ezekiel to finally open up to him, even if it was reluctantly. Like looking through a crack in the door, slowly ascertaining form and light beyond the walls. And oh, what a beautiful form it was. And what a terrible, tragic light.

"Then why?" He dared to ask, still unable to quench the question marks that defined his mental state.

"I already told you! You're so unhappy, man. Everyone knows this job is already driving you crazy. I wanted to help, wanted to blow some of that steam off, have some fun. It's the closest I'll ever get, and I was fine with that, it was fun. Up until, well, you know. Being accused of being a fuck toy for the only man who's ever been anything close to family for me." Ezekiel added the ending with a bitter edge, and Flynn winced in newly great remorse. He stood up, setting his drink down.

"A relationship was not as out of the picture as you seemed to think, for one thing." Flynn said, mouth suddenly try. He curled his fingernails into his palms, and risked a step forward. His expression and all his body language rung with sincerity.

"I could take a millenia saying how fucking sorry I am." He said earnestly. Ezekiel shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"That seems like a waste of time." The younger man replied. Flynn swallowed thickly.

"Then name it." He announced, knowing in the back of his mind he may very well regret this. Ezekiel looked up to meet his eyes, tilting his head slightly in interest.

"What?" He asked.

"Name it. Whatever you want. I'll do anything to make this right, to make this up to you." Flynn exclaimed. Ezekiel looked him up and down, and a greedy glint entered his eyes. A familiar predatory light.

"Anything?" He asked slowly, testing the truth. Flynn stood up a little straighter, and nodded. He had to stick to his commitments. Ezekiel grinned wider, thinking over it for a couple of minutes. As the contemplative silence wore on, Flynn felt like he would break out in a sweat at any moment. What was Ezekiel going to ask for?

Ezekiel jutted out his chin, a signal he had reached a conclusion. He rose up a little himself, seeming extremely smug with whatever his idea was. Oh, great. This couldn't be good.

"Take a vacation." Ezekiel announced. Flynn blinked, doing a double take.

"What?" It was his turn to be stunned.

"Take. A. Vacation. I mean, fuck, man. You're dad just died and you've been working nonstop ever since. Take a break, enjoy yourself a little." Ezekiel said, waving his hand. Flynn could only stare at him.

Had Ezekiel Jones just...been remarkably selfless? He could have asked for anything. Anything. From Flynn of all people. And he had asked...for Flynn to take better care of himself? To go enjoy himself.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Ezekiel asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. The younger man looked slightly concerned.

"Like what?" Flynn asked, a bit dazed.

"Like you just took a huge hit off of a bong and then had a threesome with South African twins." Ezekiel stated, a rather niche way of describing it. But it did get the point across.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Flynn asked.

"Of course I do." Ezekiel replied.

"Amazingly irritating, infuriating, wonderful…" Flynn shook his head, blown away. "You really want me to go on vacation?" He asked.

"Yes. Are you going to, or not?" Ezekiel demanded.

Flynn took another minute just to smile at him. The light behind that door was warm, if tragic. And the future was bright.

"Only if you come with me."