by Andria Large
“Just like you were capable of goin’ and gettin’ your hat?” Bowen retorts dryly.
“I wouldn’t need my fuckin’ hat if you weren’t here starin’ at me!” he yells, his gorgeous hazel eyes flashing furiously.
Is it horrible that Bowen finds him sexy as fuck when he’s angry? Always has. He shakes his head then goes to the table to retrieve his laptop bag. Yanking out a chair, he opens his bag, and pulls out his laptop. Syncing up with Griffin’s Wi-Fi, he gets started on his work for the day.
About fifteen minutes later, Gunnar uses the coffee table to help himself get off the couch. He then shuffles very slowly into the kitchen. When he finally makes it to the fridge five minutes later, he begins rummaging through it, looking for something to eat. Can’t be much in there that’s good since Griffin has been gone for over a month and Eva’s got her own place, so she wouldn’t have stocked his fridge.
With his back to the kitchen, Bowen can hear Gunnar cursing and muttering to himself. He moves on from the fridge to start looking through the cabinets. Each time he closes a cabinet, it gets slammed louder and louder, until he’s looked in the last cabinet. He slams it hard enough to rattle the dishes.
“Fuck!” he shouts in frustration.
Bowen looks over his shoulder to see Gunnar has both hands planted on the counter next to the sink and is leaning heavily on it. His breathing is rapid from exerting himself.
“There’s nothin’ to fuckin’ eat,” he complains.
“If you go sit back on the couch, I’ll order you some food,” Bowen tells him and turns back to his computer.
It takes Gunnar another five minutes to get back to the couch. This time he lies down, his head resting on the arm of it, his arm thrown over his eyes.
“What would you like?” Bowen asks.
“I don’t know. I have no idea what kind of food I like. Griffin said I mostly ate healthy,” he grumbles.
“Yeah, you did," he drawls. He was very into fitness and being healthy. But now is not the time to worry about being healthy, he needs to gain weight. “Do you want breakfast food, like pancakes, eggs, waffles, and sausage, or some kind of sandwich, like ham and cheese, turkey, or roast beef?”
Just when he thinks Gunnar’s not going to answer, he says, “Breakfast food sounds appealing.”
“Okay. I’ll get a little bit of everythin’ so you can try it and see what you like.”
Bowen knows Gunnar loves breakfast food. All of it. But, he feels like Gunnar needs to figure things out on his own without any outside influence.
“Okay,” he murmurs softly, sounding like a small vulnerable child. Apparently, the fight in him as burned out for the moment.
On his laptop, Bowen pulls up the website for a local restaurant that he knows makes breakfast and delivers. He uses their website to place an order before going back to what he was working on.
“It’ll be about half an hour.”
Gunnar hums softly, and Bowen has a feeling that he’s falling asleep. Which is fine because that means he won’t be bitching at him.
Chapter Five
A BELL ringing wakes Gunnar up. He rubs his eyes and tries to figure out where it came from. He hears a chair slide across the floor then footsteps walking away from where he’s lying on the couch.
“Hey there…how much? Gotcha…here ya go, keep the change…thanks,” says the sexy smooth voice that belongs to Griffin’s brother. What was his name again? Bo? Bill? No. Beaver? Bob? Shit, he can’t remember.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position and scrubs his hands over his face to try and wake the hell up. He glances over his shoulder just as what’s-his-name sets a bag of what he’s assuming is the food on the dining room table.
The guy is fucking hot as shit. Griffin is a good looking guy, but his brother is even better looking. He’s tall and thin, and from what he can tell by the fitted, blue plaid button down shirt that he’s wearing, he does have some muscle and definition. His jeans are dark and worn in all the right places, plus they hug his nicely rounded ass to perfection. His sandy brown hair is longer on top and swept back and to the side; it’s also got a natural wave to it that Gunnar finds really appealing. His square jaw is covered in a couple days’ worth of stubble, and he has thick black rectangle-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his straight nose. Behind those sleek frames is a pair of the most gorgeous caramel colored eyes he’s ever seen. They supposedly met before, but Gunnar can't remember for the life of him.
“Food’s here, Gunnar,” he announces without looking at Gunnar.
“Thanks,” he mutters. “What was your name again?” He feels like an ass for having to ask, but he actually does forget.
He pauses from taking the containers of food out of the bag to turn and look at him. “Bowen,” he supplies, his eyes letting him know that he’s uncertain if Gunnar is serious or not.
“Bowen. That’s right. Dammit.” Gunnar huffs and shoves to his feet.
He makes his way over to the table and sits opposite from Bowen’s computer. Bowen slides a paper plate and a plastic fork in front of Gunnar then starts opening the Styrofoam containers. Gunnar’s eyes widen slightly at the sight before him. So much food! And it all looks and smells so good! He starts with the pancakes, stabbing at the stack with his fork and lifting two at a time onto his plate. He didn’t realize how starved he was until right now. His stomach growls loud enough that Bowen arches an eyebrow at him, his gorgeous eyes shimmering with amusement.
“Shut up, I’m hungry,” Gunnar grunts as he continues adding eggs and bacon to his plate.
“Obviously.” He snorts.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks when he notices that Bowen doesn’t have a plate.
“I ate before I came over.”
“You got all this food just for me?”
He shrugs. “This is all food I know you used to like, and I figured whatever you don’t eat, you or Griffin can eat later.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He nods. “No problem.”
Bowen takes a seat across the table from Gunnar and starts typing away on his computer. Gunnar can’t help but watch him. There is something about him that draws him in. Maybe it’s the glasses? He can seriously pull them off. Those kinds of frames don’t work for everyone, but he totally rocks them. His eyes flip up, catching Gunnar in the act of ogling him.
“Do you need somethin’?”
Gunnar’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. He can’t believe he was staring at Bowen like that and got caught. He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah. Do you think you could make me a cup of coffee?” He asks, quickly coming up with something to not look so much like an idiot.
“Sure,” he drawls. He’s not a fool though, he knows Gunnar was checking him out. Shit.
Bowen pushes out of his chair, goes into the kitchen, and sets the coffee maker. Needing to try and get fully away from what just happened, Gunnar asks him, “Have we ever met before?”
“Uhh, yeah," Bowen hedges, glancing warily over his shoulder at Gunnar.
“Do we have a lot of history?”
“Yeah, there’s some history between us," he replies shortly, like he doesn't want to get into it.
“Okay,” he murmurs before digging into his plate of food. He moans at how good it tastes. “Oh man, this hits the spot,” he grunts around a mouthful of food.
Bowen returns to the table with a single mug of coffee in one hand, bowl of sugar in the other, and the bottle of creamer tucked under his arm. He sets them all down in front of Gunnar, who sneaks a peek up at his face. A little smile lifts one side of Bowen’s mouth, making a dimple appear on his scruffy right cheek. God, could the guy get any more handsome? He quietly thanks him and goes back to shoveling food into his mouth. Bowen sits, returning to work on his computer.
“What are you doin’ on that thing?”
One of Bowen’s eyebrows lift but he doesn’t look away from the screen. “I’m a programmer. I develop video games.”
<
br /> “So, a computer geek,” Gunnar muses before taking a sip of coffee.
He watches Bowen’s face over the rim of his mug. His expression turns to one of annoyance just as he expected it to.
“Come on, admit it. You’re a big fuckin’ nerd,” Gunnar teases with a chuckle.
Bowen gives him a bland look over the top of his screen. “You have a problem with nerds?”
Gunnar takes another sip of his coffee then gives him a shit-eating grin. “Nope. Nerds are hot.”
The shocked expression on his face is priceless, and he can’t help but snicker into his coffee. Bowen doesn’t reply, but going off of the blush on his cheeks, Gunnar got to him a little bit. Hey, a little flirting never hurt anyone.
“Are you married?” Gunnar asks.
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
A little laugh escapes from his lips. “Definitely not.”
“Boyfriend?”
The flush on his cheeks darkens, as does his eyes. “Not at the moment.”
With those sexy eyes behind those sexy glasses locked on Gunnar’s, he gives him what he hopes is a sensual smile. “Good to know,” Gunnar drawls, his voice going a little husky.
Shit, this innocent little conversation is getting him revved up. He’s popping a semi in his sweats. Bowen’s full pink lips part slightly as his tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. Gunnar doesn’t think he did it consciously, but Goddamn!
If I had more strength and energy, I’d climb across this table to bite that fucking lip.
“Are you done flirtin’ with me? Can I get back to work now?” Bowen says, his voice holding a bit of an edge to it, like he’s barely containing himself.
“Oh, sure. Don’t let me disrupt you,” he practically purrs.
Bowen’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. The muscle in his jaw bulges and Gunnar can only assume he’s clenching his teeth to bite back whatever response he had. Tearing his eyes away, he pulls in a deep breath through his nose and starts typing again. Gunnar smiles to himself. Flustered Bowen is fun.
***
“Please, Bowen. I’m booked solid all day.” Gunnar hears Griffin beg. “I have so much catchin’ up to do from being out for so long. You’re here anyway, so can you please take him?”
They are talking in the living room. Gunnar’s shuffling his way from the bedroom to the bathroom, but stops when he realizes that they are talking about him. It’s been eight days now since he’s been home…well, home in Texas. He’s still staying with Griffin while he recovers. As much as he hates to admit it, he hasn't gained enough strength yet to take care of himself.
“I’m already babysittin’, now I’ve got to be a chauffeur, too?” Bowen huffs in irritation.
Gunnar has found out over the past week that Bowen is very quiet. He could barely get him to talk, and most of the time he ended up flirting with him because it gave him something to do and some much needed entertainment. He gets flustered so easily, it’s really funny.
“I swear I will do my best to move my appointments around to try and help out with takin’ him as much as I can, but I can’t do it today.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do for the hour and a half he’s doing therapy?”
“Bring your computer, I’m sure you can work while you wait.”
“Dammit, Griffin, this is not what I signed up for,” Bowen snaps.
“I know, I’m sorry. I will make it up to you.”
“Yeah, you will.”
Gunnar steps into the bathroom and shuts the door quietly. After taking a piss, he moves to the sink to brush his teeth. Four days ago, he would have been exhausted from brushing his teeth, but now he can at least do that without losing his breath or needing a nap. He’s put on a few pounds, which is good.
He still hasn’t had any advances in the memory department. He’s had a couple of dreams that could be memories, but he’s not sure. He’s a kid in them, he guesses he’s supposed to be in foster care, like Griffin had told him that he was, and some fucked up things happened, but he’s not sure if they actually happened in real life or not. He’s hoping that whenever his memory does come back, he can sort out what was in his dreams.
A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”
“Gunnar, I’m headin’ out. Bowen is going to take you to your physical therapy session today, okay?”
Gunnar opens the bathroom door so he can see Griffin instead of yelling at him through a door. “Okay.”
Griffin’s dark, mocha-colored eyes search Gunnar's, a hint of worry lurking in them. “You think you’re ready? You can always wait another week…”
“Dr. Keller said to start as soon as possible,” Gunnar reminds him.
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want you to push yourself too hard and hurt yourself.” He frowns, leaning a forearm against the doorframe next to his head.
“I’ll be fine.” He assures him with a dismissive wave. He grabs his toothbrush and puts toothpaste on it then begins brushing his teeth.
“Just go slow, okay? Don’t rush anythin’.”
Gunnar rolls his eyes at Griffin through the mirror. “Yes, dad,” Gunnar mutters around the toothbrush in his mouth.
“Dickhead,” he grunts, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. “I made you some scrambled eggs and sausage. It’s on the stove.”
“You’re so good to me,” he coos, batting his eyes at him through the mirror.
Griffin chuckles. “See ya later.”
Gunnar spits the toothpaste into the sink before replying, “Sounds good.”
With one last nod from Griffin, he disappears from the doorway and Gunnar hears the front door open and close a moment later. He finishes up brushing his teeth then rinses out the sink. He looks at himself in the mirror and runs a hand over his short hair. Then he moves his fingers to the large, raised, red scar on the side of his head. God, it’s so ugly.
Moving down to look at his shirtless torso, his gaze is immediately drawn to his right shoulder and the big scar sitting on top of it. According to Dr. Keller, he was extremely lucky that the knife didn’t internally sever his shoulder at the joint. He doesn’t have full range of motion right now, but she said the physical therapy will fix that.
His chest and stomach are dotted with little scars here and there from getting scraped up from the rocky dirt that he was lying in. He hasn’t really spent much time looking at himself in the mirror since he’s been home. Mostly because he doesn’t like what he sees.
“Hey,” Bowen’s soft voice says from the doorway.
He whips his head around to look at him. He didn’t even hear him walk up. He’s standing in the bathroom doorway, his hands holding onto the sides of the doorframe. The sympathetic look on Bowen's face irks him. Gunnar doesn’t want his sympathy or pity.
“Hey,” he grumbles in return.
“We have to leave in twenty minutes, so you know.”
“Okay, I just have to get dressed and eat.”
He catches those beautiful eyes of his flit over the scar on his head then the one on his shoulder. He’s been keeping his hat on when Bowen’s around because he doesn’t want him looking at it; it just adds to his self-consciousness. With an irritated growl, he plants his hand on his noticeably hard chest and shoves him out of the doorway so he can leave the bathroom. Bowen stumbles back into the hallway, eyebrows cranked down.
“What the hell, man?”
“You were in the way,” Gunnar snaps, starting down the hallway toward his room. He brings his left hand up to cover the scar on his head as best as he can.
He slams his door closed and locks the knob. He pulls on a T-shirt and switches out his sweatpants for some gym shorts. He grabs his white hat and shoves it on his head, backward of course, because that’s the way he likes to wear it. Sitting on the end of his bed, he puts on some socks and his sneakers. He readjusts his hat with a sigh. There’s no way Bowen would find a hideous scar like that attractive on a man. He p
robably keeps looking at it because it’s one of those weird fascinations that people have with something really ugly or disgusting, like a ‘can’t look away’ type of thing.
Gunnar slowly but surely makes his way to the living room/kitchen part of the house. Bowen is sitting at the dining room table, wearing a pissed off look on his face as he types away on his laptop. Gunnar ignores him and heads right for the stove where his food is waiting in a pan. Tilting the pan and using a fork, he guides the eggs and sausage onto a plate that's sitting on the counter next to the stove. Instead of sitting down, he stands there to eat his food.
“What are you doin’?” Bowen asks.
Gunnar glances over to find Bowen looking over his shoulder at him from his seat at the table. He gives him an incredulous look. “Eatin’?”
Bowen gives him an impatient look. “Obviously, Gunnar. Why are you standin’ there instead of sittin’ down?”
“Because I fuckin’ feel like standin’,” Gunnar barks, “Mind your business.”
Bowen scoffs and shakes his head, his eyes flicking over the scar where it starts at his temple. What the fuck is it with this guy? Gunnar slams a hand on the counter, making Bowen jump.
“You and the fuckin’ starin’ at the scar on my head! I know it’s fuckin’ hideous, okay?!” Gunnar yells, unable to hold it in. It’s bothering him so badly that Bowen keeps looking at it and he doesn’t understand it.
Bowen’s expression goes from irritated to down right furious. He shoves out of his chair and storms over to Gunnar. Gunnar turns to face him, balling his fists at his sides in case Bowen takes a swing. Gunnar would like to think that he could take him, but he’s not going to kid himself. In the condition that he’s in, a little four year old child could probably beat him up. Bowen stops only a hair away from him, his nose practically touching Gunnar’s. They’re about the same height, so Bowen’s livid gaze is burning directly into his.
“I don’t stare at your scar because I think it’s hideous,” he growls, his body vibrating from the anger inside of him. “I look at it because it’s there, it’s part of you, and I’m lookin’ at you. It’s not ugly. It’s a scar, everyone has scars.”
