Author's Notes: Thanks for staying with me. A couple more chapters to come. My mind is finally starting to wrap this up! Hope you're enjoying. Please review!

Vicodin

His eyes fluttered open, rousing him from his sleep, bringing him into the room engulfed in darkness. His brain faintly registered the sound of James' deep, even breaths and the heat radiating from the other side of the bed. Glancing at the clock beside his bed, he groaned internally, realizing he'd woken up at three in the morning. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, he rose from bed, careful to not disturb the sleeping man beside him.

But on his way out of the room, he glanced down at the bed and caught a glimpse of the peaceful look on James' face. In all of his near fifty years, he'd never watched a person sleep and found happiness there. With a smile, he headed to the living room and turned on the television. Normally, when he wanted to think, he'd play the piano. But now, like with everything other decision he made, he thought of James and didn't want to risk waking him. Instead, he settled for watching reruns on silent, not really caring what anyone was saying anyway.

Nearly an hour later, into his second episode of 'The L Word', the creek of the bed warned him that James had woken up. The patter of feet was followed by his presence in the living room. His hair was muffed, his eyes squinted and his t-shirt wrinkled. His voice was filled with sleep as he spoke, "You okay?"

He patted the couch beside him, "Yeah."

As he flopped onto the couch, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

He kept his voice at a whisper, "You were tired. You didn't sleep last night."

"I still would've gotten up with you if you couldn't sleep."

"Is there anything you won't do for me?"

Still half asleep, "Uh…"

"Never mind. I know the answer. Which is why I have something I want to tell you." He glanced to his side and saw the panic that was rising in James' eyes. "Calm down. It's not bad." He watched as his lover settled, completely comfortable with the fact that James had moved from being just his best friend to now being his lover. His comfort came with the knowledge that he had, in fact, not lost the first, but had merely gained the second. After a deep breath, "I haven't taken a Vicodin in over 24 hours."

James rose, immediately rambling as he turned in circles, scanning the room, "Do you need me to get your bottle? Why didn't you take one before you went to bed? Are you in pain?"

"Shut up, James. And sit down." He saw the shock in his partner's eyes, this time perching on the coffee table. "I'm taking the Oxy you prescribed me. I'm not in any pain." He was easing his way into his final statement. "I haven't taken a Vicodin because I want to try and quit."

The shock turned to confusion, "Are you okay? Do you need to go back to the hospital?"

He ran a frustrated hand over his face. This obviously wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. "My head is fine. I'm fine. At least, I think I'm fine." He couldn't help that his eyes kept falling to the floor, avoiding contact with the brown pair that were filled with a mix of confusion and relief. "I really have no idea what happy people feel like. I try to remember back when I was happy, but I can't completely register it." He caught the raised eyebrow look glaring at him, and shook himself back to his original topic. "Look, I'm trying to tell you that I'm ready to quit…for you…for us." Their eyes finally met. With the silence looming, "I have only been taking a regular dose since we started…dating. I haven't even touched the last bottle you gave me." His eyes fell again, "You were right; I was addicted. I didn't need all of it to manage my pain, at least not the pain in my leg. I was using it to manage the pain of my miserable life. But…I'm not miserable any more. Now, with you, I'm happy." A little more emphatically, "I don't need rehab." His voice softened as he took James' hand in is. "I've got you." The silence stretched again. "Say something."

It was no more than a whisper. "Why?"

Normally, the question would have annoyed him. But this time, he understood. "Because…because I'd actually like to be around a while...with a functioning liver." His explanation didn't seem to be enough. Nervously, he rubbed circles into his partner's palm. "I want to grow old with you. I'm serious. Let's go…buy rings…or whatever." He waved a hand in the air. "Okay. I suck at this. I know. But I love you. I just want…"

He was cut of by a finger against his lips. "Seriously?" Greg nodded slightly. "This isn't just because of the whole near death thing?" The moment became deathly serious as Greg shook his head back and forth. James' brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side. "Are you…asking me to…marry you?"

The thought crossed his mind to be a smart ass, which would totally work for him. But then he worried that James needed this moment to matter. His first instinct won out, though, knowing that James would merely want him to be himself. "I am not getting down on one knee. And I'm sure as hell not going to have some fancy ceremony. What I do want, is for you to wear a ring on your finger that matches mine that tells everyone else that you, in fact, belong to me."

A long, silent moment passed between them before James finally spoke his mind. "I'm intrigued by the fact that you are not only willing to give up Vicodin, but also your freedom all in one day. So let's make a deal." Without waiting for a response, "You give up Vicodin. Totally be done with it. Feel good about it. If you're still happy at that point, and you're still ready to commit yourself to me, then I'll put on that ring and tell anyone you want that I eternally belong to you."

Greg stood and rhythmically moved about the apartment, not thrilled with the conditions, but knowing that they meant nothing other than a postponement of a matter of days.

James moved to the couch, fascinated by the turn of events. Of all of the effects he expected to encounter after Greg's attack, this was totally outside his realm of thought. He watched as Greg went into each of his hiding places and withdrew bottles of pills. He disappeared into the bedroom, then the bathroom and even the kitchen, returning to stand in front of the couch holding out a pillowcase filled with partially filled bottles of Vicodin.

James took the package that was being handed to him and stood. "You're serious about this?"

"As a heart attack." Greg took the few steps needed to close the distance between them and cupped James' cheek in his palm. "I can do this."

James raised a hand to grasp Greg's wrist. "I know."

"Take me to bed."

"You need to sleep."

"I need you."

"You're recovering. No strenuous activity."

As he closed the distance between their lips, "Great. You can do all the work."

In between kisses, "I don't…think…that's how…it works."

Trailing his lips up James' jaw line to gently nibble on his earlobe, "Too bad."

Breathlessly, "Greg…no."

"Don't make me beg, James." He continued his perusal of the soft skin, having learned James' weaknesses all too well. With an unnecessary moan, he gently sucked the earlobe into his mouth, reveling in the shudder he felt coming from his partner.

With as much of a warning he could put into his voice with his body completely leaning in the other direction, "Greg!"

The huskiness that James had no power to deny entered his lover's plea, "Make love to me, James. Please. I need you."

Completely lost and under the control of the desire radiating from the body that consumed every ounce of his love, James leaned his head to the side, giving Greg full access to the sensitive skin from his earlobe to his collar bone. His entire body reacted to the tongue that trailed in between hot lips, licking and nipping. The sudden, fierce attack of the hollow point of his neck caused his knees to buckle and he clumsily grabbed for support.

With the need to gain control, he closed the distance between their lips, running his tongue over his own, preparing for the pair that fed his soul. His arms wrapped around Greg's body; one hand losing itself in the curls at the base of his neck and the other dipping into the waistband of the lounge pants that were covering way too much skin. A gentle nudge and they were ever so slightly moving toward the bedroom, lips and tongues still clashing, hands groping.

Clothes were shed quickly before James gently pushed Greg to the mattress with a gentle warning. "Lie still."

Surprisingly, there was no return argument as Greg scooted to prop pillows under his head. As if completely submissive and vulnerable, he was quiet as he watched James perch over him. The desire to reach out to him burned inside him, but he remained still as he was ordered. His whole body tingled when wet lips met the bare skin of his chest. As the trail lead lower and lower on his body, his hands spread on the sheets below him in anticipation. When he felt the tongue flick over the sensitive skin just below his waist, he couldn't stop the hiss as he gasped for a deep breath.

Lips and tongue dancing over him as if claiming each inch as their very own. With his eyes tightly shut, he tried to force himself not to beg, but couldn't stop the moan that escaped him when his lover drew his pulsing arousal into his mouth. With each stroke his head tossed from side to side. Words of passion and desire, all muttered in no order or reason fell from his mouth as his body gave in to his quickly building need for release.

Gathering fistfuls of sheets, he groaned as his body shook with release. With skill no woman could ever learn, James carried him thru the end, reacting to each shudder as it came from Greg's body. As his breathing evened and his body relaxed, Greg pulled his lover toward him and pressed their lips together.

His hands drifted over the naked skin of James' back then down to his waist before James stopped him. "Don't. You need to sleep. I'm fine."

"Oh, stop it. You might get away with the heroic bullshit with women, but I'm a man. And unless you're planning on jumping in an ice cold shower, you are not fine."

Although every bit of his mind protested, his body begged for the touch of his lover. With little resistance, Greg pushed him onto his back and simultaneously fused their lips with a kiss and began stroking his arousal with deft fingers. A moan from deep in his throat was echoed by Greg's as he increased the pace, pushing James' already pulsing erection to the near painful level that came just before sweet release.

With a moan of Greg's name, his body shook, spiraling first up then down. Floating, he let himself relish in the moment, never ceasing the endless kissing that seemed to fuel his partner's desire though his skin protested with the burn being created. He pressed his body against Greg's, needing as much contact as possible.

Eventually, their kissing dwindled to Greg tucking James' head underneath his chin and pulled him close. Though Greg had originally protested cuddling, James had discovered that the opposite was in fact true. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he made no snide remark, but rather folded himself into his lover's embrace.

He was nearly asleep when Greg spoke. "Do you really want to find a new place to live?"

He pondered the question, not even sure of his answer, but more concerned about Greg's reaction to either opinion. Staying vague, to measure the response, "I like it here."

Not falling for James' trick, "Not what I asked."

Thought came, surrounded by the mingled sounds of their even breaths and beating hearts. Greg never pushed for an answer, but instead occupied his mind with trailing his fingertips up and down his partner's back. Eventually, James found the truth. "I like the thought of having a space that is ours rather than yours. No matter how long I'm here, this place will always belong to you. Although I don't have much, since my entire life is spread between the three households of my three ex-wives, I would like to be surrounded by our things, rather than your things and my clothes in your closet and my books on your shelves. But I'm very comfortable here. Even though your line about memories was bullshit, I really do feel like we have memories here." He hoped his point was made.

"Okay." The simple response was even more of a puzzle than the original question and his next statement caused near mind-blowing shock. "I want to start over…fresh."

Resisting the urge to press back and search the ocean blue eyes for the truth, "You hate change."

Not at all shaken, "Taking into consideration that I've gone from being straight to gay, fallen in love with my best male friend, have actually made up clinic hours and have ultimately decided to give up Vicodin, I think I'm adapting to change."

There was so much truth to his statement. He had changed. He'd gone from the definition of misanthrope to the polar opposite of a man in love. But still, somehow it wasn't enough. "Why?"

"Why what?"

He swallowed hard, knowing that he had to follow thru with what he'd started, but suddenly regretting his original question. "Why do you want to start…fresh?"

Without hesitation, or even a catch in his voice, "Because there are memories here. For you, they're of us. And although I have memories of us, my memories here are of Stacy." His voice trailed slightly. "I remember the pain, the loneliness, the sleepless nights of endless pacing and silent television, lying on the floor in my own vomit and…missing you."

This time, he did push back and found Greg's eyes with his own. "What about our first kiss? The first time we made love? The first time you told me that you loved me?"

With a devilish grin, "You are such a girl!" A blush rose to James' cheeks, silently agreeing, although he'd never admit it out loud. Greg's gaze softened as a hand came up to run along his partner's cheek. "I will remember all of those things. But I don't need to be here to do it."

"You really want to look for a new place?"

"We have two weeks off. We've got to do something."