For Real

*chapter 4

By Sakata Ri Houjun

~*****************~

Well, that's it for the Snickers.

Issac stared into the mini-fridge in the corner of the employee lounge, his jacket and tie discarded some time ago. Shawn sat at a nearby table watching him, quietly going mad. He told himself the reason he felt so wired was because of all the coffee he'd had to consume in the last several hours. But he knew that caffeine was the least of his worries. What was making him feel on edge, bothered, and fidgety was the sight of Issac. As he watched the older man bent before the fridge, he found himself entertaining ideas he had no business entertaining.

He and Issac were so wrong for each other. But that thought did nothing to curb his desire for him. On the contrary, it only made him wonder wildly just what kind of sparks the two of them would generate rubbing off on each other. In a manner of speaking.

Are you warm enough?

Issac's question jolted him out of his reverie and back to the here and now.

The word was strangled when it emerged from his mouth, so he cleared his throat and tried again. Fine. Justfine. Plenty warm.

You sure?

Again, his response sounded a bit rough, so he wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug and raised it to his lips. Warm didn't begin to describe his current situation. Hot, raging inferno of lust might be a little more appropriate at this point. Oh, man, he thought, was there anything that could make this predicament any worse than it already was?

As if playing a very bad joke, the lights above them flickered once, twice, three times. Then they extinguished themselves completely to plunge Shawn and Issac into complete and utter darkness.

Great, he thought. This was just great.

Oh, no. Issac's voice was quiet, close, and full of dread. This can't be happening.

Don't move, Shawn told him. You're closer to the door, so I'll get up and come to you.

He rose from his seat and began to move slowly and cautiously toward the older man, his arms outstretched to ward off any foreign object he might encounter. Within a half-dozen strides, he found Issac. Unfortunately, with his hands held out before him the way they were, his fingers were actually what found Issac first, and they found a part that was firm, warm and considered off limits to virtual strangers.

In spite of his discovery, Shawn didn't, couldn't, immediately remove his hands. He was too stunned, too surprised by what he'd done, and too mesmerized by the feel of his chest against his hands. Issac smelled vaguely of incense, a scent that somehow seemed appropriate for him, despite hiding behind his conservatively cut suits. And the feel of him beneath his hands was nearly too much for him to bear. Shawn was about to press his luck, about to apply a firmer pressure, when Issac's voice cut through the darkness and stopped him.

Mr. Hane, if you don't mind

Immediately, he came to his senses and dropped his hands to his sides. But not before he noted that the older man's breathing had become as ragged and unsteady as his own.

he mumbled. I, um, I didn't mean toI mean

There are some candles and matches in one of the drawers, he interrupted him, ignoring his apology. Even though it was dark, Shawn could sense the stiffening and tugging at his suit. Birthday cake candles. We, um, we normally have a little party when someone in the office has a birthday. Excuse me a minute while I find them.

Shawn felt Issac move away from him, and when he did, he inhaled slowly, deliberately trying to steady his heartbeat and hoping he couldn't sense just how close he'd come to kissing him. He wondered what he would have done if he had. If he'd followed his instincts and roped his arms around his waist, then covered his lips with his and plundered his mouth the way his libido commanded.

Issac probably would've slugged him in the eye, he thought. And, he supposed, he couldn't have blamed him when he did.

The scratch of a match brought him around, and in a small, pale circle of gold light, he saw Issac's face. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were round and huge. Shawn didn't think he'd ever seen a man more entrancing than he was. And if he didn't know any better, he would almost have thought he had never seen one more aroused.

That's better, he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. Issac fumbled with a box of candles, spilling the contents out on the counter, then quickly picked up one and lit it. He dripped some wax onto the bottom of an upturned paper cup, and then anchored the candle there. He repeated the action with three more, scooped up the rest of the candles and dropped them into his pocket, then handed two of the makeshift torches to Shawn.

Let's go back to my office, he said. I think it may be a little warmer in there. Certainly there's more room to move around.

In other words, Shawn thought, it would be easier for him to put more distance between us.

Good idea, he conceded reluctantly.

They made their way to his office slowly to keep the candles lit, then lined up the cups along the edge of his desk. Shawn watched as Issac emptied his pockets of the rest of the candles, noting the meagerness of their light supply. It probably wouldn't be sufficient enough to last until dawn. Then again, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as far as he was concerned.

Issac seemed to notice, too, because he bent forward and blew out two of the burning candles. Might as well make them last as long as possible.

he returned noncommittally.

He dropped to sit on the floor before Issac's desk, leaning back against the smooth teak that almost seemed to glow golden the scant light of the candles. He supposed he could have taken a few steps to seat himself in the chair opposite, but for some reason, he wasn't sure he could have made it without stumbling. He expected Isaac to move to the other side of the room, or at least to the other side of his desk, but much to his surprise, he knelt beside him, scarcely inches away. His astonishment must have shown on his face, because the older man smiled.

I, umI'm cold, he said. Would you mind

Without hesitation, he lifted his arm, an elbow slightly crooked, in invitation. Gingerly, as if having second thoughts, Issac twisted to sit on the floor beside him. For a moment, he didn't lean back against him, just continued to sit watching him guardedly. Then, evidently coming to the conclusion that he was harmless enough, or maybe just too cold to react otherwise, he angled his body against his. Shawn curled his arm around his shoulder and pulled Issac close, half-expecting him to jerk away, pleased when he felt him relax instead. Lifting his other arm, he hooked his fingers together to draw him nearer still.

Not a good idea, he decided at once. Having Issac this close, and being completely unable to take advantage of their position, was definitely not conductive to coherent thought.

It was, however, warmer this way. Much, much warmer.

Issac murmured. I'm sorry. Justthe cold was beginning to get to me.

That's funny, Shawn thought, it's the heat that's beginning to get to me.

No prob, he told him, rubbing his hands briskly up and down his upper arms. I have a coat out there with my things, too, if you want it.

No, that's okay. This is fine.

For a moment, neither said a word. Then finally, Shawn broke the silence by asking, I guess this really put a crimp in your plans for the evening, didn't it?

What plans? The words were out of his mouth before Issac realized what he'd revealed. He bit his lip, hoping he wouldn't notice his mistake.

No such luck.

I thought you said you had plans tonight, he said as he moved his body a little to the left to facilitate a better view of Issac. I mean, I thought you had a date or something.

Um, actually, he began,

You were just going to go home and pop a cork on a bottle of wine all by yourself, weren't you?

Issac nodded. Yeah. Sorta.

He smiled. Me, too.

Issac adjusted his position to look at him, but said nothing further. For a long moment, his gaze locked with Shawn's, but he remained quiet and never turned away. When he seemed no longer able to tolerate the older man's silence, Shawn shifted a little closer to him and gazed back.

Finally, he asked, Why do you keep looking at me like that?

Issac felt himself blush, felt the heat that had warmed his midsection since Shawn's arrival in his office creep up past his heart, along his neck, and into his face. He hadn't meant to be caught staring. Then again, he wondered, how could he not stare? His embrace had roused something in him he'd never bothered to explore. Some indistinct, undefined longing to be as close to another human being as one could be. A reaction to something warm, something wonderful, something beautiful. Something that simply was Shawn.

Scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, he panicked and uttered the truth instead. It's your hair, he said softly.

What about it?

I was just wondering

Wondering what?

Um, howhow long is it?

Without hesitation, and without taking his eyes from Issac's, Shawn reached behind himself and tugged the rubber band away to free his hair. It fell in an untamed cascade of fire just past his shoulders, and he negligently nudged it away from his eyes.

he told him, fingering a few stray strands into place. That's how long my hair his.

Before Issac could form a reply, Shawn lifted a hand cautiously towards his face. He paused a moment, as if waiting to see if he would object. Issac told himself that he should object. But he didn't say a word. His silence seemed to be all the response he needed, however, as he slowly, ever so slowly, reached behind him and he curved his palm gently over his nape.

Issac's heartbeat quickened as he traced his fingertips gently over his neck and along the smooth line of his jaw. He stroked the pad of his thumb along the slim column of his throat, halting the caress where he knew the pulse was raging wildly. Shawn grinned when he realized how profound was the effect his simple touch had ignited in the older man. Then he leaned forwards.

And you said you don't believe in romance, he murmured.

I don't, Issac insisted. But his voice lacked the conviction he'd once felt so strongly.

Have you ever been in love?

He shook his head mutely, wondering why he had posed such a question, wondering why he was bothering to answer it.

Again, he shook his head, but still he said nothing aloud.

Not even once?

Issac hesitated only a moment before telling him quietly,

So you don't know what it's like to feel that roiling wonderful uncertainty in your gut? That utter confusion that clouds your mind until you can't tell up from down? That vague, daydream state of mind that turns even the most logical of humans into a fucking poet?

Again, his voice was quiet as he responded simply,

That dizzying ecstasy that overtakes you for one brief instant when you begin to understand that the person you love might possibly be falling for you, too?

No. I've never felt those things.

He sighed and shook his head slowly, clearly disappointed by his inexperience. That's too bad.

Issac didn't like the judgmental condemnation that laced his words. He stiffened as he asked him, So I guess you have felt those things before?

Shawn seemed to grow a little guarded as he admitted, Yeah, once or twice.

You fall in and out of love a lot, do you?

I wouldn't say that.

You just did say that.

he relented. I've been in love a couple of time. But not-"

Then how can you say that true love exists? If true love existed, people wouldn't fall in and out of love the way they do. As unobtrusively as he could, Issac pulled away from Shawn's grasp.

I didn't say I experienced true love, he countered, staring as his empty hands as if he'd just been branded with a red-hot iron. Just that-"

Love and romance, Issac told him, are nothing but an illusion. Or, more accurately, they're the result of good PR.

It's true. The only reason people fall in love is because TV and movies and magazines tell then to. The reason romance exists is because major corporations spend lots of money to advertise in the media and keep it alive.

Shawn expelled a rude sound of disbelief. You don't honestly believe that.

Of course I believe that. It's what I do for a living. He shrugged negligently. It's essential that romance be kept alive, because without it, the economy would collapse.

Shawn made a doubtful face. So it's an economic thing.

Of course it is. Sex sells. It's a cliché, but it's true. Romance is responsible for the sale of everything from flowers to hygiene products. Without it, no one would be adding to their wardrobes for socializing. No one would go out to eat or to the movies or to the theater or whatever in the numbers they do now. Think of how many people would be out of a job if romance, if that the promise of true love, disappeared.

What you feel when you think you're falling in love, Mr. Hane, he concluded, is actually just a reaction to a really good ad campaign.

Shawn eyed him warily for a moment, and then scrubbed a hand over his mouth, along his jaw, and into his hair. You honestly believe that? he finally asked.

Yes, I do. It's my job.

Instead of arguing, he threaded his fingers through Issac's hair, cupped the back of his head, and pulled him toward himself. His face hovered within inches of Issac's for a moment, and then he covered his mouth with his own.

It was an extraordinary kiss. Issac wasn't sure he'd ever felt quite the way he did when Shawn lips touched his own. For a moment, all he did was brush his mouth lightly over his, and then he closed his lips over his lower one and gently tugged it inside his mouth. He traced the older man's lip with his tongue, and when Issac gasped his delight, ventured more deeply. Softly, gently, as if painting feathery strokes on a delicate canvas, Shawn tasted him fully as he dared. And all Issac could do was enjoy it.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Issac leaned toward him, gripping the heavy cotton of his shirt with hungry hands before splaying his fingers open over his chest. Beneath his fingertips, he detected raw strength and poetic beauty, something that just made him want to explore this man more intimately. Instinctively, and as if of their own free will, his hands crept higher, over his shoulders, down his arms, gripping salient biceps before curving around to his back. And with every advance Issac made, Shawn echoed his motions.

He felt his fingers twine in his hair more fiercely. Then Shawn curved his hand gently around his neck once more, tilting his thumb against his jaw to tip the older man's head backward and facilitate an even more thorough kiss. Before Issac knew it, Shawn's fingers were working at the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them one by one, until the cool air of the office whispered against his bare skin. Only then did Issac realize how far things had gone between the two of them, and only then did he pull away.

But he didn't get very far.

Shawn's fingers were still curled around his nape, their gentle insistence keeping the older man from fleeing entirely. That along with the fact that Issac just didn't want to flee. Instead, he simply sat where he was and stared into those eyes that had haunted him for days.

Why him? He wondered. What was it about Shawn that compelled him in a way that no one had before?

Why are you looking at me like that?

Shawn's question was the same one that had started their embrace initially, and somehow, Issac thought, it seemed appropriate for ending it now. But he couldn't quite find the words he wanted to put him off. Instead, he covered his hand with his, carefully removed it from his neck, and placed it back in his lap.

he began.

Mr. Ido, he corrected him.

But he shook his head and smiled almost sadly. Not anymore, he said softly. Never again.

With visibly trembling fingers, Issac refastened his buttons. All the while, he was more aware than ever of Shawn's gaze scanning him from head to toe and back again.

Mr. Ido, he feebly insisted again, unable to meet Shawn's eyes.

He said nothing in response.

So Issac, too, remained silent as he rose to his knees, then to his full height, and made his way around the desk to take his seat in his big, leather-bound CEO chair. He had hoped such a position and posture would restore his confidence completely. Instead, it just made him feel silly.

Not cold anymore?

Shawn's voice came to Issac from the other side of his desk, when he remained seated on the floor. He couldn't see him from where he sat, but he was certain he was grinning, mocking him.

he replied, striving for indignation, fearing that he sounded indecisive instead. I'm not.

That's funny, he heard the younger man reply. Suddenly, I'm not cold, either.

Issac sighed wearily in frustration and wondered how much longer the two of them would be trapped here together.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

At some point during the night, Issac managed to doze off, and when he awoke in the morning, he was alone. He was also stretched out on the sofa that spanned one wall of his office, and couldn't recall having moved there on his own. He was also covered by a leather trench coat that he didn't recognize.

The last realization more than any of the others caused him distress. He wondered what happened to Shawn.

Mr. Hane, he immediately corrected himself. Where could he have gone?

He glanced over at the windows behind his desk to find that the morning had dawned beneath a bright blue sky harboring not even a trace of the previous night's storm. He could almost convince himself that the blizzard, and the turn of events that had came about because of it, had never occurred. Until his gaze fell to his desk, and he noted the stubs of birthday candles melted down the sides of a quartet of paper cups.

Then he remembered how Shawn had kissed him as if he were the answer to a prayer. How he had kissed him back in much the same way.

Oh, no, he groaned, lifting a hand to cover his eyes.

How had such a thing happened? How could he have allowed things to go that far? Just because he had been snowbound with an attractive man, and just because the lights had gone out and reduced them to candle lit surroundings that were more than a little romantic, and just because the way Shawn had looked at him made him fell wanted and needed, and just because the things he had said had roused emotions inside him he never felt before

And the dream he had last night that those actions had apparently inspired didn't help him with a solution at all. He could still replay fragments of that dream, of Shawn and himself snowbound in the mountains and huddled together beneath a pile of blankets, entangled in a way that couldn't be mistaken in an endeavor to offer and seek warmth from the bitter cold.

There was only one way to deal with this, he told himself. He must make sure he never had cause to be alone with Shawn Hane again. Infatuations were dangerous things. They caused a person to be preoccupied and fanciful, something that detracted from what was really important. Work. Issac had a major ad campaign to arrange, and he had only a few days to do it. Vivid dreams about a handsome man with a ponytail would only prevent him from doing his job. And his job was what was most important.

Bottom line.

His office door flew open then, and Thomas Ray entered. At first he didn't see Issac, but made his way resolutely toward his desk with a sheaf of papers. When he spun around, however, and saw him lying on his sofa, he halted.

he said, clearly shocked by his appearance. What on earth are you doing here at this hour, and looking as if you slept here? You didn't spend the night here, did you?

Issac managed to fold himself into a sitting position, and automatically reached to straighten the wrinkles in his shirt. Of course I spent the night here. In case you didn't notice, there was a major blizzard last night. It happened so fast, ShawnI mean, Mr. Hane and I never had a chance.

Thomas narrowed his eyes as him. Shawn spent the night here, too?

Issac nodded.

Thomas's gaze dropped to the coat covering his lap. I see.

He detected more than a small hint of suspicion in his friend's comment and held up a hand to stop it. Oh, no you don't. You don't see at all. It was perfectly innocent. And just what happened to you last night? ShawnMr. Hane said you and Kenji left together.

Thomas's gaze dropped to the floor. well, um Actually, Mr. Nakama asked me to help him carry some things to his van, and how could I decline?

How chivalrous of you, Thomas, Issac observed wryly.

He nodded a bit anxiously. Then, when we got down to the garage, and I noted that it had begun to snow, I decided it might be best if I went directly home myself.

Shawn said you and Kenji were going out for a drink.

Thomas cleared his throat indelicately, glanced up at Issac again, and then quickly back down at the floor. Yes, wellhe did actually mention stopping off somewhere for a drink, but

Well, I didn't think it was a very good idea. He's not my type.

And, as I said, by then it had begun to snow, so

Thomas straightened, stretched his neck a little, as if his collar had become too tight, and then folded his hands behind his back. Shall I bring you a cup of coffee?

Issac nodded. Please. But hold my calls for a while, okay, Thomas? I need to wake up a little first.

He nodded and hustled out, closing the door softly behind himself. Issac stood and strode to the bathroom connected to his office, moaning when he saw his reflection in the mirror. His russet hair was a mess.

He shrugged out of his suit and into a spare change of clothes that he kept at the office in case of emergency, bypassing the extra suit for a pair of jeans and a soft green sweater instead. For some reason, he didn't feel like working today. Lucky for hm, he was the boss and could give himself the day off.

he called out when he heard him return.

Yes, Issac.

He exited the bathroom briskly and collected the leather trench coat from the sofa where he left it. I'm going to be out of the office today. Would it be a problem to rearrange my schedule?

He quickly ticked off his agenda in his head and said, No. There's nothing pressing. Where are you going?

Issac was surprised to hear him ask. Thomas was far too professional to wander about his employer's personal life. He eyed his friend warily.

He shrugged. In case something pressing does come up.

Sounded logical enough, he thought. Still, he found himself reluctant to reveal his destination. Instead, he fingered the softly worn leather sleeves of Shawn's coat and felt the fabric grow warm beneath his touch. It reminded him of the way his hand had felt brushing against his own the night before, and his face grew warm.

I need to return something to someone, he said softly. I'll take the pager. If you need me, you can beep me.

But-"

Have a nice weekend, Thomas. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

And with that, Issac gathered his things along with Shawn's and left his office, taking the first self-induced holiday he could ever recall giving himself.