Honestly! Did you guys think I was mean enough to keep the details of Nick and Buck's first kiss to myself? Of course I'm not :D So this chapter begins six hours before the last one did. And any Bible verses included will be Authorized King James Version, unless otherwise noted.

DISCLAIMER: You telling me I have to admit that I don't own any of this is like me saying you should stand on your roof and scream, "I KNOW BETTER THAN TO JAB MYSELF WITH A KNIFE!" What these disclaimers have in common with what you'd be screaming is that both are common knowledge and plain good sense.

NOTE: I don't recall any names of militia people being mentioned, other than Pres. Fitzhugh, the Egyptian guy, and the Brit prime minister. I figured there would be others resisting something like the GC, so I made up my very own militia man and woman. Do not steal Glenn Larcy or Hino Midori (whose name, by the way, is Japanese. So Midori is her personal name-- what most of us westerners call a "first name.")

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PART TWO

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The Kiss

Buck and and Steve Plank flanked Nicolae at the small, homey wooden table the meeting was taking place around. The trio was hearing out the grievances of the heads of large militia factions from several countries. They had surrendered on the condition that their cases be heard and reasonable compromises reached. Buck was sitting in on the meeting on behalf of the journalists of the Weekly, since he was there anyway. He just listened and took notes.

One militia person, a Japanese woman, demanded, "And how do we know that you will not continue to bomb our country, as you did to the United States of America?"

Buck tried not to wince. That was going to be hard for Nicolae to get people to see past, and he himself had been questioning it in his head. How could he trust this man who called himself a pacifist one day and had bombs dropped on innocent people the next? Not, he suspected, that I could stop trusting him anyway.

In any event, he listened very closely to Nicolae's reply. "There were confirmed militia bases in the places that we acted against. I must talk it over with the heads of the various regions first, but we may institute a policy that we will not strike until a strike is attempted against us first. And although I had promised to crush the resistance, you will note that I did not say I would continue to destroy or retaliate against those countries. I seek only peace between us, Hino-san," Nicolae replied respectfully.

That seemed to satisfy Hino Midori, because her body language no longer declared hostility. Then a man from Ireland piped in, "But you want us to give up our weapons. All of them? Even heirlooms? I can't accept that, and there are many others who won't either. And what about those who carry concealed weapons, like guns, because they went through something traumatic at the hands of a stronger person? Some of them do that without any intention of using it, just because it makes them feel safe."

Buck had to admit, the man made some good points. Nicolae told the Irishman, Glenn Larcy, "I do understand your concerns. Old muskets, heirloom swords and such are things you may keep. Hunting rifles will also be your choice to give or keep. However, any concealable guns must be given to the GC. As for those who carry such things for protection because of trauma in their past, they are free to keep or obtain their concealed weapon permit for knives or stunguns, but the GC will help by enlarging the police force. Any reports of police brutality will be swiftly and justly acted upon."

That seemed to placate Larcy. After another hour and a half of hostile interrogation by the militiamen and women, and Nicolae pacifying them, the meeting finally ended. Buck sighed. They'd had to get up at four in the morning to get ready for it, because most of these people were in the habit of starting the day very early. Weary and irritable with hunger, since it was about time for breakfast, he trotted back toward Nicolae's suite. They traded off on whose suite they'd have their meals in and who would cook. It was Buck's turn to cook and Nicolae's turn to clean up afterward.

He got all the ingredients for making waffles, and when the batter was made he dug around in the cabinets for the waffle iron. He wanted to be writing, but for the time being, he decided to just let his mind wander. Buck still hadn't told Nicolae the details of his trip to Mount Prospect. Only that Chloe had signed the divorce papers. He also hadn't told Nicolae about the emails he'd been getting from her about how much she missed him, asking when he was coming home. Or the ones from Ray that were nothing but Scriptures and quotes from various Christian books about the sin of sodomy and how the Antichrist was damned, and passages from the Bible that described Hell.

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the counter. He kind of wished they would just leave him alone. Or do whatever it was they wanted to do and be done with it.

"What is wrong, Buck?"

Buck pushed away from the counter, straightened his shoulders, and pretended there were no problems with his ex-wife or his former father-in-law. "Nothing, just thinking."

"You are not as good at lying as you believe you are," Nicolae said, invading Buck's personal space a little.

Cornered, both converstionally and physically, the journalist sighed and replied, "It's the emails I've been getting from Chloe and Ray. The sender isn't identified on any of them, but I can tell who it is."

"I was wondering what has been troubling you," Nicolae said with a frown. "There is nothing you cannot tell me."

Buck gave him a weary smile. "I know, but--"

Forgoing politeness this once, Nicolae interrupted, "You try too hard to be independant. Let those who care about you help you occasionally."

By this time, the distance between them was a mere few inches. Buck wasn't sure how they'd gotten that close, but he was sure that it was himself who closed the gap. Nicolae's lips were soft against his own, and tasted vaguely of cinnamon. And he didn't have to crane his head way down to kiss him. No more sore neck after-- his thoughts were cut off when Nicolae's mouth opened, his tongue mapping out Buck's lips. He stumbled slightly, Nicolae following him, and felt the edge of the counter dig into his lower back. He opened his mouth in a reflexive, "Ow," but the word was lost in the sensation of the other man's tongue-- Oh! A little moan, and he wasn't sure who'd made it. Then Nicolae slowly pulled back, and Buck noticed Nicolae's hands on the counter on either side of him.

Both struggled to catch their breath. When Buck did get his, he murmured, "That helped."

Nicolae laughed. Then, an odd look crossed his face. "Something is burning."

"Oh, crap, the waffles!" He dove toward the waffle iron and yanked the burnt food out with his bare hands. Then his brain sent the nerves in his hand a pain signal and he reflexively tossed the waffle away with a loud, "Yowch! Aah, hot!"

Nicolae turned the tap on, got the cold water going and yanked Buck over to run his burned fingers under it. Buck sighed in relief. "Note to self: bare hands and burnt food don't mix."

Nicolae shook his head, grinning. "I should think a smart man like you would have known that already." When Buck drew his fingers away from the cold spray, he asked, "How do they feel?"

"A little odd, but they don't hurt anymore," Buck answered.

Nicolae massaged the injured fingers, which were still red, and then threaded his own between them. His eyes met Buck's, and there was a comfortable silence. Each knew how the other felt. They didn't need words.

The computer in the corner pinged, and Buck jumped. Nicolae squeezed his hand gently, then went to check the message, leaving Buck to finish making breakfast.

It was Buck's inbox that had a new message. Nicolae frowned at it. There was no name or adress to identify the sender. He opened it, revealing only the words, Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. --I Timothy 4:1