Shannon had picked up a summer cold from somewhere, both Boone and Andrew tried to steer clear of her, but, especially for Boone, it was proving impossible. She was making his life a living hell. He tried, as he always had, to make things right for her, making her homemade chicken soup, fetching cups of tea up to the bedroom where she lay under the covers with a box of tissues by her side, fluffing her pillows, but her demands were endless, and he never seemed to be able to respond to them quite to her satisfaction. For the first time in years, he found himself thinking about Theresa, and regretted, again, the demands he'd made on her. He even offered to sleep in the guest room, but Shannon acidly reminded him of the week she'd spent sitting at his bedside when he'd been in the hospital, so he obediently climbed carefully into bed beside her each night, not wanting to trigger another of her coughing jags. Miraculously, neither of them caught whatever malady it was that she was suffering from. After almost a week, she finally seemed to be on the mend.
He tentatively approached her on one of her first good days, "Shan, uh, school starts in two weeks, and I really need to get Andrew some new clothes. I, uh, I thought that, maybe, we could all go into the city for the weekend?" He verbally tiptoed around her, worn out from having to put up with her irritability for the past week. Didn't people who were sick usually want to be left alone? He knew he certainly did, but of course, as usual, Shannon was the exception to the rule.
She sniffed, "Why the fuck do you look like a frightened rabbit? Jesus, Boone." She frowned in irritation.
"Right, okay then, we're going into the city this coming weekend, and we're going to get him some new school clothes." He said decisively.
"And it's your birthday too, isn't it? How convenient." She sniffed again.
"Do you want a tissue?" he was already reaching for the box.
"If I wanted a tissue I'd fucking get one for myself, Christ." She looked annoyed.
"Yeah, my mistake, sorry." He apologized. "It is my birthday, but Shan, I'm gonna be thirty-two, it's not a big deal, though I did think that maybe you might like to go out for dinner, and maybe to a club." He looked hopeful, then rushed on, "And I thought we'd get you a car. Actually, I've already ordered it, it'll be ready on Saturday."
She smiled and tilted her head in pleasure, "It's your birthday, but I'm getting a car, I like that idea. Your birthday should come more often."
They headed into the city on Friday afternoon, and on Saturday morning they picked up her new car. The small two-seater sports car he'd picked out for her was almost identical to the one he'd once bought for her. She smiled in appreciation and then slid behind the wheel, Andrew ran to climb into the passenger seat before she could drive off. She peeled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires as she raced towards the hotel.
"Mr. Carlyle, your wife does understand that she shouldn't drive the car too hard before it's broken in, right?" The salesman watched in horror as Shannon sped away.
"I'm sure she understands, just as much as I'm sure she doesn't care." Boone patted the guy on the shoulder.
They spent the rest of Saturday shopping for clothes. Andrew and Shannon positively glowed with enjoyment as they moved from store to store, Shannon getting almost as many things for herself as for Andrew. Boone followed along behind them, dutifully carrying an increasingly larger number of bags, pulling out his credit card time and again, making frequent trips to his car to stuff the bags into the trunk, and wishing silently that the ground would open and swallow him; putting him out of his misery. When they stopped for lunch he had two beers and massaged his temples in a vain attempt to rid himself of the headache that had started pounding after the third hour of the buying frenzy.
Mid afternoon his cell rang as he was standing outside of the latest place they'd picked for pillaging. He groaned when he recognized his mothers' number, though he'd known that there was no way he wasn't going to hear from her that day. "Hello, mother," he greeted, falsely cheerful.
'Happy birthday, Boone, dear," Sabrina sounded equally as forced.
"Thanks," He looked up to see Shannon beckoning him from the checkout inside the store. His shoulders slumped. 'Yeah, happy birthday, god let this day end,' he wished.
"Where are you? You sound tired." She pretended concern.
"We're shopping," he provided their activity, but not their location, refraining from telling her that they were less than five minutes from her office, not feeling like he had the energy reserves left to endure a face to face with her.
"Of course, Gerald," he heard her say, and, in his fatigued state, Boone was momentarily confused as to why she was calling him Gerald, before he realized that she must have been speaking to someone who had come in to her office. That was confirmed with her next words. "Got to go, dear, Gerald's just come in with a crisis." He took the phone away from his ear and stared at it, as he realized she hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. 'Happy birthday,' he thought again, sarcastically.
"Boone?" Andrew tugged on his t-shirt; he looked down, "Shannon says to get your ass inside." Boone glanced back at the store. She was still standing at the checkout, glaring at him, her arms crossed in front of her, looking none too pleased at the fact that he was keeping her waiting.
Back at the hotel, he pulled another beer out of the mini bar and locked himself in the bathroom, while Shannon and Andrew went through the days' purchases. He soaked in the whirlpool, nursing the beer for as long as he could, the pounding on the door, and the summons to come out and survey what they'd bought, happening after a surprisingly long half-hour, he'd anticipated that he'd get no more than a fifteen minute respite. Boone wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. The room was in chaos; it looked like several dozen suitcases had thrown up. There were clothes, and discarded packaging, on the floor, the bed, the chairs, everywhere. He hadn't realized exactly how much they'd actually bought over the course of the day.
He finally reached the end of his patience and snapped, "Clean up this mess." The other two went still. "This is disgraceful, who the hell do you think are you? Jesus, Shan, we didn't even engage in this much excess after we were rescued. Just because you can buy this much stuff, doesn't mean you have any right to. Andrew, I thought I raised you better. God, you guys…" He shook his head in disgust, turned and went back in the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
About ten minutes later, he heard a tentative tapping on the door, "Boone?" Shannon called. He continued to sit quietly on the edge of the vanity, dressed, once again, in his original clothes. "We tidied up."
He got up and opened the door for her. The room had been restored to its' original condition, he flicked a glance at her, then at Andrew, who stood, looking uncertain, by the bed.
"I'm sorry, guys, long day, but you've got to admit you went more than a bit overboard." He attempted to make peace with them both.
They both apologized to him. He accepted, then pointed out that they had dinner reservations in less than an hour. Andrew begged off, pleading fatigue after the activity of the day, asking instead if he could just stay at the hotel and order room service. Secretly, he just wanted them to have the evening alone together. Boone got the manager on the phone, a man he knew his mother's company dealt with on a regular basis, and arranged for a sitter. Before they left, Andrew handed him a small package, wishing him happy birthday. Boone unwrapped it to reveal a book on Mexican cooking. It wasn't a recipe book, but an historical one, written by a food anthropologist. They'd seen the woman interviewed about it on TV a few weeks before, and he'd mentioned he'd like to read it. He thanked Andrew and hugged him.
They walked to the restaurant, then enjoyed a leisurely meal, indulging themselves outrageously by carrying on their entire dinner conversation silently. Boone was sure that the wait staff must have thought them insane, as they sat for over two hours, not saying a word to each other, just gesturing and smiling as they communicated in their heads. At one point they elicited some pretty strange looks as Shannon suddenly burst out laughing over something he'd thought. Over liqueurs, Shannon pulled a small, sloppily wrapped, item out of the pocket of her leather jacket and handed it to him. He opened it to reveal an enameled medallion on a thin leather thong; he held it in his palm immediately recognizing the Chinese characters for the number eighty-four. 'My t-shirt, at least the one I found to wear.' He remembered one of his favourite shirts from the island. 'Thanks, sis.'
'Happy birthday, honey.' Shannon wished him, as he slipped it over his head and tucked in into his shirt.
They caught a cab to a club after dinner, continuing their silent communication, their ability an overwhelming advantage as the pulsing of the music made normal conversation impossible. They headed immediately for the middle of the dance floor. Shannon thought Boone looked increasingly sexier as the evening progressed and he undid several buttons on his shirt. His hair was plastered to his forehead; he was obviously enjoying himself immensely. As he grinned like an idiot at her, suddenly the last ten years disappeared from his face, and she saw the innocent, naive twenty-two year old who'd come to her fabricated rescue in Sydney. How could he still love her as much as he did after all the shit she'd put him through? He sensed that something had changed and stopped dancing, his smile fading. 'Shan?'
'Nothing,' she shook her head. 'Memories, that's all. I love you Boone.' She kissed him.
The mood for dancing lost; they moved to the bar and got a couple of drinks. She excused herself after the first one.
She came back from the bathroom to find a young guy talking to him. The man had a hand on Boone's shoulder; she could see Boone leaning in trying to hear what the other man was saying. She watched while the guys' hand started to slide, slowly, from Boone's shoulder and down his back. Before it actually got to his ass, she stepped forward to reclaim him, pushing between them. "This one's mine, fuck off." The guy shrugged in concession, and moved off to find another conquest.
The time approaching two a.m., they left to find a cab.
They were still discussing the incident when Boone used his key card to let them back into their suite. "I don't think he was, Shan."
"God, Boone, you're a dolt, he was totally coming on to you." She pushed passed him. "You're a complete gay magnet."
The woman the hotel had sent up in response to his request for a baby sitter had risen from a chair in front of the TV when the door opened. She turned to them now, frowning.
Boone was immediately concerned, "Hi, is everything okay, is Andrew alright?"
"The poor boy is fine." She gave him a quick up and down, a sour look on her face like he'd just climbed out of a dumpster and smelled like last weeks' rotting leftovers.
"Uh, okay," he was confused, but reached for his wallet and extracted a few bills, then held them out to her.
She snatched the money out of his hand, "You people are disgusting," she spat. "That the dear boy isn't deformed or scarred for life is amazing." She glanced in distaste from one of them to the other; then stormed from the suite.
He turned to Shannon, "What…I don't…did she…what the fuck just happened?" He threw his hands in the air.
Shannon didn't know which was funnier, the look on Boone's face, or what the woman had said. "I'm guessing that she baby sat my son, not yours, and brother dear, from what she said, I'm guessing he played the whole incest card." She dissolved into laughter as he changed from appearing confused to horrified.
"Oh god," he closed his eyes. "Remind me of the whole part where I said that maybe you were good for him."
Her laughter was contagious, and soon he was chuckling as well, as he removed his leather jacket, hanging it carefully in the closet. "I'm going to check on the junior troublemaker." He opened the door to the connecting room cautiously, the light from their room falling across the bed. He was lying on his back, breathing deeply, regularly; he had the sheet twisted up in his legs. Andrew had started wearing his hair longer, and his bangs were caught in his eyelashes and stuck to his cheeks, he looked so innocent, Boone couldn't believe the trial he'd put the baby sitter through.
Shannon slipped her arms around him as she moved to stand behind him, both of them watching the small sleeping figure. 'Come on before we wake him.' She urged silently. Boone pulled one of the blankets over their son and followed her out of the room, closing the door softly.
"Drink?" she asked, gesturing at the mini bar.
He shook his head, heading for the balcony, pulling the blankets off the bed, and tugging them loose. He grabbed her hand on the way by, then opened the sliding door. He threw the covers down on the concrete and then turned to her. He took his time slowly undressing her, whispering in her ear as he did, his breath hot and seductive on her skin, his words driving her wild. He pushed her hands away every time she reached for him. By the time he had her naked, she could barely stand. He guided her to lie on the padded surface of the balcony then quickly shed his own clothes, kneeling and gently lowering himself on to her. Shannon dug her nails into his back, trying to pull him into her, but he continued to tease, rubbing himself against her, continuing his monologue, his mouth brushing against her ear. She thrust her hips repeatedly against him, begging for him. He pulled back to look in her face, she had tears of frustration in the corners of her closed eyes, 'Please Boone, please,' she pleaded wordlessly. He finally slid inside her, unable to resist any longer. When they came it was fierce and uncontrolled, she moaned his name into the night, as he groaned against her neck.
He finally recovered enough to realize that he had his entire weight resting on her chest, he levered himself up on his elbows and gazed at her. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth open slightly. As he watched, she opened her eyes slowly, her tongue sliding out to wet her lips. She half smiled, 'Happy birthday to you.'
'Yeah, happy birthday to me.' He smiled and dropped his head to her shoulder.