Page 57 of The Barn: Frost and Q
“It killed me. We saw it, the shot. We were making the switch. I was going to give him his fucking money. I didn’t care if you and I had to live in an efficiency apartment for the rest of our fricking lives. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter.”
“You do realize that I probably aggravated him so much that he had to shoot me?” It had to be said. It just had to.
“You know, that thought has occurred to me, yes.” Frost grinned. “In fact, that is exactly what Carson said when you woke up. Once we knew you were going to be you. That’s what I was worried about. That’s what I was scared of. I give no shits about whether or not you could walk. I mean, I do. I hate that you can’t do everything you used to do and that that son of a bitch took that from you. But the important parts of you are all functional. Oh my God, I kind of need that more than life. I need you, Quentin, and I’ve never been so glad for anything when you opened your eyes and said, ‘ Motherfucker, my throat hurts’.”
“We don’t live normal lives.” So many things could happen, and they didn’t live lives that were quiet. His was quieter than it had been, but really. They were adrenaline junkies, and they lived like their asses were on fire. It was a thing. And they had to just deal with it, know that that’s how it was with each other.
“No, no, we live extraordinary lives. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”
“Ditto, cabbagehead.” He lifted his face for a kiss. “Thank you for today; it’s been perfect.”
“Yeah, it really has. We’re getting a dog.”
“What’s thisweshit? I got a mouse in my pocket? I’m getting a dog. You are not getting a dog. You have to get your own dog.”
“It’s going to let me share. I have faith.”
Q snorted softly. “I’m going to teach him to bite you in the butt every time you aggravate me.”
Frost started tickling him, and they cracked up, both of them snuggling in close, rolling on the bed.
It really had been a perfect day.
And even better, tomorrow they got a dog.
Seventeen
Having a dog in the apartment was odd. Cool, but a little odd. Especially when they were having a scene. It was…interesting to say the least.
Quentin would be in his cuffs, and Yukon would just decide that whatever they were doing needed his involvement. Yukon would just jump right in the middle of everything, wagging and trying to participate.
It wouldn’t be so bad, except the little fucker could open the doors. That had been unexpected.
Frost totally believed that animals needed their own space and that space was not in their bedroom.
Yukon, however, disagreed.
Kind of firmly.
He believed that he needed to be wherever his person was, and Quentin was absolutely, unequivocally his person.
Also, it was not helping at all when Q would start giggling in the middle of a scene because Frost was fighting with Yukon.
“You are not helping.”
Quentin cracked up. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’m the worst sub in the whole world.”
He rolled his eyes. “How are you supposed to do anything but crack up? You don’t even have one cuff on, and he starts this shit.”
There was a look of absolute hilarity on Quentin’s face. And there was a puppy—a great big gigantic fuzzball of a dog—leaning on Q’s legs, tongue lolling.
“You have to promise not to tell anybody about this,” Frost said. “I swear to God. I could never show my face down with the other guys ever again.”
“Your secret is safe with me. Yukon, get down.”
That big mutt hopped down and went over to Frost and started wiggling hysterically, tail going ninety to nothing, like, ‘Dad. I’m good, right?’
“We’re going to have to get better door locks.”
