Unspeakable Words

by Sarah Madison

  Flynn was on the phone when Jerry, now fully clothed, came into the living room. He cast a glance in Jerry’s direction, and from where he stood, Jerry thought his ear tips looked red. It made Jerry mentally pause. At what point had Flynn entered the bathroom? He quickly stuffed the subject into the soundproof booth and headed straight for the coffee.

  “That was the vet,” Flynn said from the kitchen doorway. “The kitten’s looking good. She’s up and eating. They’re going to discharge her this afternoon.”

  “Huh,” Jerry said, glancing at Oliver, who sat at Flynn’s feet, looking up at him adoringly. That meant a second litter box and some kitten food. It looked like a trip to the store was in order. He’d probably have to isolate her to the bathroom for a few days as well.

  “Um, I was thinking maybe I should find a place to stay,” Flynn said slowly.

  “Don’t be an ass,” Jerry said without thinking. “You’re not ready yet.” Unless…. Oh. Maybe he had come in when Jerry was picturing…. Jerry felt his face flame. Oh, wow. That would be totally embarrassing. Maybe Flynn was uncomfortable being around him now.

  Flynn cleared his throat. “I just, you know, don’t want to cramp your style or anything.”

  You’re safe with me.

  It wasn’t what he’d been about to say, and he was aware as soon as he thought it, there were all kinds of subtexts to it that hadn’t really occurred to him before the sentiment had popped into his head, but there it was.

  “I know that,” Flynn said sharply, frowning. “I just…. Look, Jerry. You’ve gone out of your way to look out for me here. I appreciate it. And I know you wouldn’t….” He trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. “Look, the point is, I think maybe I’ve imposed enough, okay? That’s all.”

  “You’re not imposing,” Jerry said. “And as long as you’re comfortable….”

  “I am. It’s fine. There’s no problem,” Flynn said hastily.

  “Okay, then. Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  There was a pause. “I’m just going to….” Flynn made a vague motion over his shoulder. “You know. Get a towel. Dry off.”

  “Okay.”

  Flynn headed toward the bathroom. “Hey!” His voice drifted back to Jerry. “What’s for breakfast?”

  Jerry smiled into his coffee.

  THE day passed quietly. They decided that a trip to the store was a good challenge for Flynn, and he accompanied Jerry as he wandered the aisles of the pet store, selecting the things he needed for the kitten. Flynn, looking broodingly handsome in a black turtleneck and jeans, was a little withdrawn but seemed otherwise okay. Jerry caught him smiling inexplicably while they were deciding on what kind of kitten food to buy. When Jerry looked down the aisle, he saw a young couple with a little girl and a black lab puppy on a leash. The girl had paused to lift the puppy up enough to plant a tender kiss on its fuzzy head, though the pup was almost too big for her to handle. He dangled in her arms, wiggling as he tried to lick her face, all big feet and pale, round belly. Jerry found himself sharing a goofy smile with Flynn and being fiercely glad that not all his telepathic experiences were bad ones.

  “Thanks,” Flynn said.

  “For what?” Jerry replied. We’re guys. We don’t do mushy, he reminded Flynn, eliciting a snort.

  Jerry had arranged things so that they could go back to the apartment and Flynn could decompress, if needed, before they headed back over to the vet clinic.

  “You don’t have to come, you know,” Jerry said when it was time to go pick up Phoenix. Flynn was ensconced on the couch, watching a soccer match.

  “No, it’ll be good for me. It’s not like I can take these kinds of breaks tomorrow.” He switched off the television.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” Jerry went to his desk drawer and pulled out an iPod and ear buds. He handed it them to Flynn. “I thought maybe music would serve to drown out people’s thoughts. You can’t wear the iPod all day, but maybe if you needed to take a break? Of course, you can download music that you’d prefer to listen to. You don’t need to listen to my stuff.”

  Flynn fingered the light-green metal casing. “Thanks. That’s a good idea.” He fixed Jerry with an unreadable look. “I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me these last couple of days.”

  Jerry waved him off with a dismissive noise.

  “Soundproof,” Flynn smirked as he placed the headphones on. He wore them all the way to the vet clinic.

  There at the clinic, they were met by the tech, who went over the discharge instructions with Jerry, and he paid his bill. It was significantly less than he’d been expecting.

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing as kitty AIDS,” Flynn said while they were waiting for the tech to return with the kitten.

  “Yes. That and feline leukemia. They’re pretty common viruses. Cats get them by fighting and breeding or being born to positive mothers. It’s a good thing they tested her. Now I can safely introduce her to Oliver at some point.”

  The tech came back with a cardboard carrier and a plastic bag. “I’m afraid your jacket is ruined,” she said, handing both items over.

  Like the pants, Jerry thought with a little sigh and let it go. At least the kitten had made it, though he had doubts about a second cat with Oliver. What if he tried to kill the kitten? And did two cats make him some sort of weird gay caricature?

  “You worry too much,” Flynn told him as they were leaving the clinic.

  Inside the car, Flynn opened the carrier.

  “Don’t let her out!” Jerry scolded. “She’s safer in the box.”

  “I just want to see it,” Flynn said reasonably. “You spent all that money. At the very least you should see what you got for it.” He reached into the box and lifted out the kitten, setting it down on his lap.

  The little orange-and-white ball of fluff looked up at him and opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a silent meow. Flynn seemed a bit staggered as he stared down at the kitten. She suddenly swarmed up his chest and got right up in his face. Jerry could hear her purr from his side of the car.

  “Oh, wow,” Flynn said quietly and then shot a desperate sort of look at Jerry.

  “What’s wrong?” Jerry glanced quickly at the two of them and then back at the road. No longer soaked in gasoline, the little kitten was fluffier than expected, with long tufts of hair coming out of each ear like a miniature bobcat. She stood just below Flynn’s chin and kneaded his chest briefly, settling down to look up at him with an adoring expression.

  “She loves me,” Flynn said. He seemed dumbfounded by it.

  Well, who wouldn’t? He stole a little glance at Flynn and then stuffed his amusement and commiseration down into the soundproof booth. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a kitten, then,” he said.

  “I can’t have a cat,” Flynn said, pushing the kitten down out of his face. She crawled back up again, head bobbing as she sniffed his chin enthusiastically. “I travel too much.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that. Cats don’t ask your permission first when they choose you.”

  Flynn looked faintly alarmed.

  Back at the apartment, Flynn didn’t want to isolate the kitten to the bathroom as Jerry had planned. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “Oliver will be cool. You’ll see.”

  Jerry bit back his concerns regarding the possibility of Oliver hurting the kitten or the kitten breaking with an upper respiratory infection that she might have picked up at the vet clinic and let Flynn deal with his silent disapproval. Well, he’d learn the hard way what it meant to be a pet owner.

  Oliver, however, took one look at the kitten and immediately pinned her down, washing her thoroughly. He acted as if he’d been waiting for a kitten his whole life, and it made Jerry feel guilty. The poor cat was lonely. It made him wonder what would happen when Flynn finally left. That was another topic for the booth, and Jerry was really starting to get tired of having to police his own thoughts. Funny, he’d never really noticed his thoughts in gener
al before. It was exhausting, trying to keep the random thoughts from embarrassing him.

  Phoenix accepted Oliver’s worship as her due and settled in on the couch for a long nap with him. Jerry never would have predicted that behavior from either cat, given the circumstances. Flynn joined them shortly afterward, and Jerry was conscious of the lines of weariness on his face as he slept.

  He didn’t nap long, and when he awoke, he wanted to go back out again.

  “Let’s go out to eat tonight,” Flynn suggested as Jerry was prowling around in the kitchen, trying to decide what to make for dinner. The plan had appeal, since Jerry didn’t feel much like cooking, though he bitched about the cost just the same. Maybe Flynn would take the hint and start chipping in toward expenses at the apartment. Besides, he hated paying more for food he could have made just as well, if not better, at home.

  “I’m not going to offer to pay for your share,” Flynn said loftily, tapping the side of his skull. “I’m not going to reward you for thinking what you want from me instead of telling me straight-up.”

  Think this, Jerry directed his thought with a grimace, mentally flipping Flynn the bird. It felt good to hear Flynn laugh, and he joined in with a chuckle as well.

  They ended up at a cheap little Italian place, fragrant with the smell of warm garlic bread. Flynn pointed out a couple by the window and said that the man planned to propose before the evening was out. He then went out of his way to be charming and delightful to the waitress, explaining to Jerry during her absence that her mother was in the hospital, dying of cancer.

  Jerry ended up ordering dessert, despite knowing that it would be too much for him to eat. It was a rare indulgence, but the restaurant made a sensuous chocolate torte with a raspberry sorbet that he couldn’t resist. He asked for two spoons when he placed the order.

  “I’m not having any.” Flynn raised an eyebrow at him when the waitress had left.

  Jerry rolled his eyes. “A couple of spoonfuls won’t kill you.” Self-denial won’t absolve you of all your sins either.

  Flynn’s eyes widened as though he’d been slapped. Jerry shrugged.

  When the waitress returned with the dessert, Jerry helped himself to a big spoonful, making sure he got the decadent torte and the sorbet both in the same mouthful. He closed his eyes briefly in bliss as he took in the spoonful and swallowed.

  He opened his eyes to find Flynn watching him with an odd expression.

  “Here,” he said, taking up the other spoon and using it to cut a chunk of torte. “Try this.”

  Flynn took the spoon into his mouth, and Jerry tried not to think about the way his lips closed over the dessert. A faint flush appeared on Flynn’s cheekbones, and then he wrinkled his nose. “As I expected. Too rich. Too sweet.”

  Jerry retrieved the spoon from Flynn’s hand and doled out another bite, this time adding some sorbet as well. Flynn took it from him with a resigned expression. Jerry watched with satisfaction as Flynn’s face registered surprise. He nodded as he licked the spoon. “Okay, you’re right,” Flynn said. “Food chemistry. I get it.” He reached out to take another spoonful. He took his time with it, obviously letting the flavors mingle in his mouth, savoring them before swallowing.

  Jerry found himself wondering what Flynn would be like in bed. Would he hold back, reluctant to experience everything that could be his for the taking? Or would he let himself go, freely taking in the sensuality of the moment?

  “I’ve never had any complaints,” Flynn said, in a voice both slightly smug and annoyed.

  “For a telepath, you are so missing the point,” Jerry said tartly. Any thoughts of introducing Flynn to the delights of simply allowing someone else to bring physical pleasure to his body were quickly relegated to the soundproof booth.

  “Unspeakable words,” Flynn said, seemingly out of nowhere, as they were lingering over coffee.

  Jerry glanced over in his direction, fascinated by the way Flynn’s long fingers curled around the sturdy white mug.

  Flynn flicked his gaze up at Jerry briefly, a tight smile on his face, before staring down into the depths of his coffee mug. “Second Corinthians, verse 12:42. ‘How that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter.’ That’s me, you know.” Flynn’s gaze was suddenly on him again, bright and piercing. “And the only reason I know the damn quote is because you know it.”

  Jerry didn’t know what to say to that.

  On the way back, Jerry, full of pasta and merlot, suggested taking in a movie, but Flynn opted out, pleading tiredness. Jerry felt momentarily guilty for forgetting that Flynn was still adapting to his newfound talents, but the push on his shoulder told him that Flynn didn’t mind. They ended up back at the apartment, where Flynn wanted to talk about the plans for the next day and who they’d interview.

  They were on the couch, files scattered between them, when Phoenix landed in the middle of the papers and began to bat at them. Flynn scooped her up one-handed as he rescued the files. “Rotten cat,” he said as he set her down on the floor. “No wonder they wanted to torch you.”

  Jerry reached out and smacked him on the back of the head. “That’s horrible.” He grinned.

  Flynn was grinning back when his expression slowly changed. Gone was the easy smile that had been there a moment before. He looked suddenly uncertain, and a small furrow appeared between his eyes as his lips parted.

  “What is it?” Jerry frowned.

  “Nothing.” Flynn blinked and cleared his throat. Phoenix bounced back into his lap, and he gave the cat a half smile, scratching around her face until she closed her eyes in a blissful purr. “Animals are so simple compared to people. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Mate.” He sighed, shifting abruptly. “It’s getting late. We’ve got an early start tomorrow. We should call it a night.”

  Jerry nodded. It was likely to be an emotionally challenging day for Flynn as well. The least he could do was give Flynn a little breathing room tonight. He collected Smokescreen, said his good-nights, and retired to his bedroom as Flynn slipped the iPod earbuds over his head. Oliver, he noted, stayed behind.

  The cat wasn’t the only one who’d miss the company when he was gone.

  FLYNN, unshaven and dressed in a T-shirt and briefs, looked out of his depth when faced with a hungry kitten that had seemingly found her vocal cords overnight. The strength and pitch of her caterwauling was certainly distressing to hear. Jerry took pity on him and helped him feed the cats, even as his helplessness was amusing.

  “Feed me,” Flynn said in an imperious manner as he watched the cats insinuating themselves in between Jerry’s legs in the kitchen. He indicated Phoenix, whose meowing had increased sharply. “Feed me now. I’m starving to death. I might die before you open that can. Don’t mock me, for I have sharp teeth, and I am very fierce.

  “You laugh, human,” he continued in a deeper tone, eyes in half-slits. He looked remarkably like Oliver at that moment. “We tolerate you in our home merely because you have opposable thumbs and can open the cans.”

  “And you’re warm,” he piped up in a smaller voice, stretching out the word “warm” into almost two syllables. “You’re warm and you’re fuzzy, and you’re good to sleep next to.”

  I’ll just bet you are, Jerry thought and grinned evilly at Flynn when he flushed.

  Jerry was laughing as he placed the food bowls on the mat. Phoenix launched face first into her dish and began to wolf down her food. Oliver tackled his food with the attitude of someone who thought he’d better eat his breakfast now before he had to defend it.

  “She wants to sleep under the covers,” Flynn said as he watched the small kitten eat voraciously. “Is that normal?”

  “It’s a bit unusual,” Jerry conceded.

  “I’m afraid I’ll squish her.” He had the look of someone who hadn’t slept very well the night before.

  He looks freaking adorable. Jerry slam-dunked the thought into the soundproof booth and hurried to his bedroom to ge
t ready for work.

  Later, dressed for work in his suit and tie, Flynn projected an air of cool invulnerability that made him almost unrecognizable as the guy who’d had been hanging out in Jerry’s apartment all week. As he acknowledged this, Jerry realized that this was probably how Flynn dealt with the stresses of the job, even before the telepathy thing. Flynn shot him a wry little half smile as they made their way to the car.

  On the street outside the building, they ran into Amy. The Chihuahua was lifting his leg against a spindly tree along the sidewalk.

  “Yo, Spike,” Flynn said to the dog, his hand doing a roll and slide as he spoke. “How’s it hangin’?”

  For an answer, the dog barked once and scuffed his rear feet vigorously against the pavement.

  Amy giggled. “So far, no accidents in the house, though I worry about him getting cold without a sweater.”

  “Nah.” Flynn reassured her over his shoulder as they continued toward the parking garage. “It’s mild out, and he’s tough.”

  I see you with your own show on the Discovery Channel. Or maybe the Psychic Friends Network.

  Flynn just rolled his eyes.

  At the field office, Jerry himself was almost overwhelmed by the noise and bustle as they entered through the glass doors. “Give me a second to check in, and then we can head to the museum.” Remember, if it gets to be too much, either listen for me or put on the iPod.

  Flynn nodded with more confidence than he could possibly feel.

  They’d decided on interviewing the witnesses in their own environments, rather than asking them to come back to the bureau again. Flynn thought they’d be more likely to let their thoughts stray and give them away.

  A few minutes turned into twenty before they were able to leave. Jerry had a few requests for information and file transfers he’d had to process, and Harding had stopped him, wanting to know the current status of the case. Jerry took a few minutes as well to start the ball rolling on the man from the queue, placing a call to the police department and firing off an e-mail to the shelter. Flynn, though quiet, seemed to be handling the situation without too much difficulty. Jerry was relieved, though, when they were able to leave without incident. When he went to collect Flynn, he was sitting at Jerry’s desk, listening to the iPod, reading over the crime-scene report and eating macadamia nuts.