Giving Into My Angel [Slash] [BoyxBoy]

GIMA Chapter Two - Adam's P.O.V

Hey guys, it's Bella here.  Writing chapter two.  You mad, brotato?  

Make me feel better and vote/comment.  Please?  :D

Sexy Beast to the side over there? Yup, that's Adam.  Be sure to Stop and Stare.  Which is also his favourite song.  *Coughes*  Look over there!  Fuck!  I can't rhyme on accident, and not say something about it!  Anyway!>>> 

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I sighed and shook my head.  Freaking Zeke.  Did he have any clue what his velvety smooth voice did to me?

"Get back to work!"  My boss yelled at me in Italian.

Jesus Christ, didn't he understand that that was probably the most important call that I've ever gotten while at work?  I frowned and rubbed my hands over my face, not caring that I was still holding my phone.

"Alright!  Alright!"  I screamed back.

I was tired of Antonio breathing down my neck so I slipped my phone back into my back pocket and washed my hands before getting out the supplies I'd need to make the Chicken Alfredo.  Sadly, it seemed to be the most popular meal choice today.  

I became a chef for the variety, not the fucking consistancy!

However, just a few more hours, and I was home free.  I could go see Zeke and make some French Toast.  A welcome change from all the fucking pasta.

Why was it called French Toast anyway?  Americans came up with it.  Fanciness?  No, Adam.  Stop acting like Zeke.  And don't fucking forget about the noodles again!  You are fired if you burn anymore.

I finished the order before shouting "Order's Up!"  I didn't have to.  In fact there was this handy little bell thing that I could smack to get the waitor's attention.  But, I wanted to annoy Antonio.  It probably wasn't one of my brighter ideas; but, I got a good laugh out of it.

The last of my time for the day passed by uneventfully.  And thank god that I didn't burn anything.  I was already walking on thin ice.  Sure, I was the best damned chef to walk through their door.  But, apparently, I have an 'attitude problem' and I'm 'easily distracted.'

When my boss told me that, I gasped in shock and covered my mouth.  I was acting like that was news to me.  But, I was dying from laughter on the inside.

Gaby would have loved that.  God, I missed her.  I bit my lower lip to keep it from trembling as I took off my apron and hair net, leaving it in the cubby-thingy in the back room.  

Damnit Adam, pull yourself together.  You have to be able to drive to go see Zeke.  And, you have to see Zeke if you want to feel better.  Meaning?  Stop acting like a fucking girl and be the man your mother raised you to be.

I checked my pockets for my keys, then strod out of the resturant towards the staff parking lot and towards my 1967 Chevy Impala.  God, it was expensive.  But it was beautiful and worth every single last penny.

I pulled my keys and phone out of my pocket before unlocking the door and slipping in.

Zeke, you better still be alive.  I'm on my way over there to make you some French Toast.  I smiled as I hit the send button.  

Then I was shuting the door, buckling myself up, and starting the engine.  I bit my lip for a totally different reason when she roared to life and began to purr.

Hurry Adam, I think I over-did it.

I growled and quickly got out of there, racing towards the flat that he shared with Scottie and Willow.  

Why the Hell was he drinking again?

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.  If it had something to do with Mark, heads would be flying.  I clenched my teeth together and pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal.

I turned into the parking lot and was parking in the nearest empty space.  I cut the engine without really giving her a chance to cool down.  I'm sorry baby, no time.  I was out of the car and running up to their appartment quicker than you could say "Bubba likes cake."

I didn't even try to catch my breath before flinging the door open and running to the couch.  His eyes were squeezed shut and he had a bag of frozen peas over his face.  An empty bottle of Jack was dangling from his fingers and the tele was on mute on some SyFy channel shit.

"Zeke?"  I asked softly.

He groaned and sat up, his eyes flashing open before he smiled brightly.

"French Toast?"

"Of course, Zeke.  Whatever you want."

I turned around and went into the kitchen.  It was decent enough, and there was food in it.  Better than I could say for my own place.  I got out everything I'd need to make him some French Toast and started on that, not really paying attention.

What the fuck happened to make him so miserable?  Why the Hell was he drinking when he swore he'd never do it again?  And what was up with the frozen peas?  

The only thing that was coming to mind the made any sense was Mark.  And, he was a fucking dead man.

Before I knew it, the Toast was done.  I turned off the stove and took care of everything before going overboard with the butter and syrup.  Zeke liked his toast to be swimming when he was miserable.  He said it was drowning, just like he was.

I had to take this better.

I took the plate and went and sat on the couch next to him.  He reached out for the plate and I swatted his hands away with my free arm.  He looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Don't worry, you still get the food.  I'm just feeding you. "  I cracked a smile.  "How did you get cereal in your hair?"

"I'm drunk.  You tell me." 

He smiled brightly and opened his mouth wide for the first forkful of French Toast.  Sighing and shaking my head, I ordered my hand to stop shaking as I brought it too his lips.  He closed his eyes and moaned softly as I pulled the utensil out of his perfect mouth.

His hand slipped from the bag and it fell with a thunk to the couch.  I growled as I saw the knuckle-shaped bruise on his face that was already black and blue.  My hands tightened into fists.