In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 9: Balcony

"No," Frank gasped, clutching Dean's hand in his. "Seriously? I'm going to meet your mother? You're not screwing with me?" Thrilled could not come close to describing his feelings. Excited, breathless, eager and anxious were closer.

With a deep sigh Dean shook his head. "I wish you didn't sound so excited. It's going to be ugly."

"Ugly?" Frank stared at his handsome profile. "She's your mother."

"I never came out to her," Dean replied with a deep sigh. "She doesn't know I'm bi. And I was raised strict Catholic. Strict. I mean I had to go to everything she didn't have to pay extra for like double Sunday school classes, bible study, catechism, you name it. If we could've afforded private school I'm sure she would've sent me."

"Why?" Frank asked, the idea of a parent not approving of something beyond an individual's control a foreign concept to him.

"I think I told you it's just me and Mom, right? My father died when I was three. She said I needed more religion because I didn't have a father. I never understood what one had to do with the other, but it's what she always said." Dean's hand squeezed his fingers, holding on as if he might slip away.

"I figure at best I'm going to hell." Wriggling in his hand, Frank released his grip allowing Dean's fingers to entwine with his, a tighter and more intimate hold. "Baby, you don't have to be there for this, I won't make you go through it."

"I want to." Just as Dean had done to Julie, Frank lifted the hand clutching desperately to his to kiss the back. "I'd like to be there for you."

A loud breath escaped Dean. "Thank God." He glanced sideways. "I was hoping you'd go."

They rode most of the way back in a comfortable silence, more intimate than any conversation. Thoroughly enjoying the comfort of a trusted companion Frank paid little attention to their surroundings. Too soon the car stopped at a rental agency office.

"We'll take a cab from here," Dean explained before exiting the car. Frank had temporarily forgotten this was a rental. Funny how little details kept slipping away from him.

When the cab dropped them at his place, Frank paused outside the building, Dean close by his side. "You are staying the night?" It was more of a demand than a question.

"Better believe it, baby," Dean breathed into his ear causing wonderful tingles down Frank's spine.

Stupid Slow Elevator was living up to its name this evening. Frank glared at the closed doors while deciding if he could make it up the stairs without passing out.

"Easy, baby," Dean whispered in his ear, no part of their bodies touching in the public lobby. "I thought you liked going slow, taking your time?"

"It's totally different when your clothes are still on." His voice was loud enough to carry and drew a few glances from other residents waiting on Slow Elevator.

"It is," he defended himself to a familiar looking guy standing near him.

"Hey man, I hear ya." The guy nodded to Dean who searched the floor desperately, no doubt for a large hole to appear for him to dive in. "About time you found a new guy, Frank. Couldn't stand the last loser. How much furniture did he break?"

Again the guy peered past Frank to Dean, who had his head up this time and watched the guy with earnest.

"Craig," the guy introduced himself, extending a hand around Frank. "Next door neighbor. I'm the one who used to call the cops all the time."

"Dean," Dean shook hands, "glad to know somebody was looking out for him."

"Tried." Craig shrugged with another glance up at Frank. "Some days he acts like he doesn't even know my name, figured he was still mad at me."