Neon Yellow: Obsessive Adhesives (14 page)

"It didn't really cover gunshot wounds.” Spencer ripped his T-shirt and began to dress Jason's wound, doing his best to try and ignore the feel of blood on his hands. This was his fault. Jason had been shot because of him. How could Jason forgive him? More importantly, could Spencer ever forgive himself?

"I have to elevate your leg, it's going to hurt.” Spencer folded the pillows and gently placed them under Jason's leg. Satisfied that he'd done all he could, Spencer took out his cell phone, probably something he should have done first.

"Fuck! No signal.” Spencer stared at the useless phone before throwing it on the ground. What was he going to do? He wasn't about to leave Jason—or Shaun for that matter. No way was he giving that bastard an opportunity to escape. Did they have any rope? Could he lift Shaun and put him in the trunk?

"Car's got that tracking thing,” Jason said. “That's supposed to work where cells won't."

Finding the keys in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, Spencer ran to the car. After a few curse filled moments where he tried to figure out how to turn the tracking system on, Spencer eventually had a pleasant female voice asking him what the problem was. A quick description of the morning's events and the dire need for both medical and police intervention had the female voice assuring Spencer that help was on the way and to stay safe. Spencer left the system on as directed and headed back to Jason, where he belonged—not talking to some faceless woman who was trying to convince him that everything was going to be okay.

"An ambulance and the police are on their way,” Spencer said, sitting down next to Jason.

Jason gave Spencer a shaky smile. “Thank you.” He opened the blanket and wrapped it around Spencer as well, drawing him closer. “You're a good man to have around."

"I don't know about that. It's my fault you're—” Spencer faltered. Instead he wrapped his arm around Jason and snuggled against him. There was a lot to be said for shared body heat.

"I'll be okay.” Jason laid his head against Spencer's. “Think you'll come camping with me again?"

"I didn't think you'd ask me again."

Jason laughed. “I can't promise it'll be as exciting as this time."

"That's fine by me."

Jason kissed Spencer's jaw. “I still want you to stay with me."

Those few words thrilled Spencer. Their living arrangements could be discussed after more important issues were taken care of, mainly getting Jason to a hospital and Shaun to a jail cell. He was saved from answering by the sound of sirens.

"They'll be here soon.” Spencer kissed Jason, a soft touching of lips, and then reluctantly left the sanctuary of their blanket. “I should meet them, let them know where we are."

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Jason stayed conscious for long enough to see Spencer walk back up the track, the ambulance following him. He spared a quick glance for Shaun, just to ensure the man was still out, then closed his eyes and gave in to the overwhelming tiredness that had been trying to claim him. Not completely, though. He was vaguely aware of being talked to and answering questions. The bullet wound was bandaged and it felt like they pushed a spike into the back of his hand before he was transferred from cold, hard ground to a soft mattress. The odd sense of inertia that stole over him told him they were moving away from the campsite. Away from Spencer and that maniac.

"Spence?"

A young man—barely old enough to shave, it seemed to Jason—placed another blanket over the one already covering him. “The police are talking to him."

Jason nodded. Though why the police wanted to talk to Spencer was beyond him. They should just be arresting that dickhead, Shaun, and be done with it. He hated to think of Spencer having to deal with the police by himself. The ambulance bounced slowly over the compacted dirt track away from the camp site and met the smooth asphalt of the road.

"Okay?” the paramedic asked. “Warm enough? In pain?"

"Yeah... no... I'm okay. Tired, though."

"That's the pain meds. Sleep, you look like you need it."

The next time Jason woke up, he was warm and comfortable. And stationary. It was very quiet and the air had a strange, antiseptically clean smell. He opened his eyes, blinked once or twice and focused on Spencer.

"Okay?” Jason's voice sounded funny, croaky and faint, as if he'd been smoking and yelling at a rock concert all evening. He tried again. “Hi."

"Hi.” Spencer smiled and placed his hand over Jason's. “How are you feeling?"

"Great.” Jason clasped Spencer's hand. “Let's go dancing?” His right thigh throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The pain was bearable, but annoying.

"I don't think you'll be dancing anytime soon, but I'll take a rain check."

"Horizontal?"

Spencer's resulting laughter echoed throughout the tiny room. “That could be arranged."

Jason grinned. “Good.” He turned Spencer's hand over in his. “They fingerprinted you? Bet that's never happened before."

"There's a first for everything.” Spencer blushed. “They questioned me, fingerprinted me and questioned me some more. Fingerprinting isn't as easy as you'd think it'd be. It took a couple tries. But you'll be happy to know Trooper Howard verified my story and Shaun regained consciousness and apparently suffered no long term effects from my actions. But, he will hopefully suffer from his."

"All the girls love a bad boy.” Jason winked. “And some of the boys, too."

Spencer leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the hospital bed. “So, I'm a bad boy now?"

"How many
good
boys do you know that have been fingerprinted and questioned at length by the state's finest?

"Oh, God,” Spencer suddenly looked stricken. “How can I face everyone at work?"

Now
that
had Jason confused. “What do you mean? You're a hero, love."

Spencer shook his head. “No, I had a psycho stalker, got you shot, bashed someone over the head with a shovel, and... maybe... outted you."

"As long as it keeps Charlotte and Rosa from trying to get into my pants, I'm a happy man.” Jason wound his arm around Spencer's neck and pulled him closer. “Besides, you're outted, too. And we're together.” He kissed Spencer, losing himself in the taste of the man.

A not so discreet knock on the already open door had Spencer springing away from Jason as if he'd been burned.

"Sorry to interrupt,” a young nurse said as she walked over to the bed. She checked the equipment and stuck a thermometer in Jason's mouth. “The police would like to ask you a few questions."

"Now who's the bad boy?” Spencer sounded so smug that Jason turned to look at him. “And,” he whispered. “You could be right about that ‘loving a bad boy’ thing."

End.