The Fix

Jurgen stood in the bedroom doorway, shifting his weight. Nik had never seen Jurgen quite this uncomfortable. He’d never seen Jurgen uncomfortable, period. Nik tried to watch out of the corner of his eye while still making it look like he wasn’t paying any attention.

Which was hard, since Jurgen wasn’t wearing anything but black briefs. They really showed off his ass dimples to perfection.

The big, sexy asshole.

*Sure earned that name tonight.* Nik accidentally let a snort of agreement slip out. He diligently flipped through his magazine to make up for the lapse in the silent treatment.

“Nikky?” Jurgen’s voice was low.

Nik didn’t look up.

“Nikky?” Jurgen tried again a minute later.

How long would he try that before he gave up? Could be all night. Jurgen had stamina. Besides, Nik kind of wanted to know what ridiculous excuse he would come up with for his behavior. He sighed gustily and set the magazine in his lap. Then he looked at Jurgen and smiled brightly. “Did you need something, Jurgen? Another blanket? I thought I put enough out there for you. I left your special pillow for you, too, so you’ll be comfortable on the couch.”

He hadn’t been able to make himself go through with the back porch. Damn it all.

“Why are you so mad at me?” Jurgen didn’t sound right. Nik looked at Jurgen more carefully. He had that look in his eyes again. He had his hands planted, one on each side of the doorframe, and he looked at Nik worriedly, sort of swaying into and out of the room. Subtly. Subtle, whole-body fidgeting.

It was mesmerizing. Nik had never seen Jurgen act this way before. He tilted his head to get a different perspective on it.

Jurgen cleared his throat—cleared his throat!—and said Nik’s name again. “Nikky?” Well, his version of Nik’s name.

“Jurgen, you really don’t know?” Nik didn’t smile at him or use the polite I’m-so-pissed-off-I-could-bite-a-chunk-out-of-your-flesh voice. Jurgen’s behavior was starting to worry him.

Jurgen shook his head slowly, but didn’t say anything. He looked almost beseechingly at Nik. What was with all these people and their uncontrollable emotional turmoil tonight? How could they really expect Nik to deal with it? You only had to look at him to know he was high-maintenance.

“You hurt Miller, Jurgen. A lot. He thought Ian might have a real interest in him.”

Jurgen looked at the floor, his fingers tightening on the doorframe. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded kind of mad.

Great. “Jurgen, don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell Miller.”

Jurgen looked back up at Nik. “He hurt you.” His voice was hard.

“In high school.”

“He harassed you. He harassed you for being gay when other people were around, and he harassed you for sex when he could find you alone!”

“He was young and stupid and self-involved. He never threatened me. He wasn’t any worse than a lot of guys. I got over it. You aren’t young and stupid and trying to hide you’re gay. Am I supposed to say it’s okay you humiliated and harassed a guy because your inner troglodyte needed to have a moment? Why did you even do that?” Nik sat as far forward on the bed as he could. He could feel the tendons on his neck straining with the effort to keep his voice under control. In spite of his general big, dumb asshole status, tonight he couldn’t get over feeling like Jurgen was somehow fragile.

“He singled you out because of the color of your skin. You hated growing up here in Whitetail because of guys like that.”

Nik stared at Jurgen a minute. There was something here he wasn’t getting. Maybe if he explained himself? “Yeah…” Nik needed another moment to work it out. “But I didn’t want revenge or something. I just want him to leave me alone. Instead I had to spend all night comforting him because my boyfriend humiliated him.”

Jurgen’s jaw tightened. He stared at the far wall over Nik’s head. “I don’t understand you sometimes, Nik. You hated Miller and how he treated you in high school, and now you waste time trying to make him feel better?”

“It’s not a waste of time, Jurgen. Feeling that shitty, especially when someone did it to you on purpose, that’s awful. Hasn’t anyone ever, ever victimized you?” He just might have added a decibel or two to his volume. But seriously, did Jurgen think this was okay? Just because he’d never been anything but perfect and liked—

“I’m a gay cop, Nik, of course people have picked on me! Fuck!”

What? Nik stared at him. “But…you’re big and tough and gorgeous and self-confident, and who would ever pick on you?”

Jurgen’s jaw muscle started twitching. The angry one, not the horny jaw muscle. His knuckles were white on the doorframe as he turned his head to look out at their living room. “Forget it. I’m going to sleep.”

“Jurgen, wait!” Nik was walking on his knees across the bed, trying to get to Jurgen before he left. Knee walking on a mattress was not the best form of locomotion. He didn’t quite make it before Jurgen disappeared down the hall.

Follow him? Nik wasn’t sure what that would mean in terms of this argument. Would that be a win or a loss for him? Would he have to mark it a draw on the scorecard he secretly kept in his head? (Current score: Nik 33, Jurgen 25.)

Would Jurgen even want Nik to follow him?

That’s what ultimately stopped Nik and left him sort of adrift on Jurgen’s side of the bed, staring out the bedroom door. *I don’t know.*