Date: Thu, 29 Nov 2018 08:39:40 -0800
From: Wayne Gray <waynewrite4u@gmail.com>
Subject: Ash and Ember, Chapter 6

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Ash and Ember - Chapter 6: Reciprocity

14 November 2018, Wednesday 7:23 PM

"Here.  Let me take those."  Troy held a towel around his waist with one
hand while the other clutched the filthy clothes he had just removed.
Grant couldn't entirely hide his disgust of them, and Troy didn't blame
him.  Though Grant seemed willing to help, it still made Troy ashamed.
Regardless, Grant took them from Troy, held the wadded ball of clothing at
arms-length, and started for the stairs.

"Sorry."  Troy grimaced.  "I can do it."

Grant shook his head as he walked down the stairs.  "Nope.  Your job is to
shower.  This one is mine.  See you in a little while."

Troy bit his lip.  He stood at the top of the stairs until he heard the
door to the garage when Grant went into that room.  He sighed.  He really
hadn't planned on this and he had no idea this would happen.

'Why is he helping me?'  He turned and entered the bathroom.  Troy shut the
door.  He looked at himself in the mirror.

"Fuck."  He grimaced and touched his ribcage.  The bones of his ribs were
plain to see.  His fingers could feel the bone, just under the surface of
his skin, and the tiny bit of fat he still possessed.

'You look like you need help.  Maybe that's why.'  Troy let his hand fall
to his side.  He took a searching look at his own eyes.  Then he nodded
slightly.  "Okay.  Get on with it."

Troy turned on the shower.  He waited for the stream of water to warm, then
he dropped the towel.

He stepped into the warm cascade of water.  Immediately his skin broke into
chill bumps, as his body attempted to suck up the warmth.  "Ahhhhh."  He
breathed in the steam, and he stood there under the water.  He could feel
it sluice away grit, sweat, and grime.

Troy wanted to just stand there.  But he had a body to scrub clean.  He
wiped the water out of his eyes, and he blinked at the assortment of little
containers in Grant's shower caddy.  Grant had pulled out a bunch of little
soaps, shampoos, and body washes for him.  Grant said he saved them from
various hotels where he stayed.  Grant kept them for guests to use, in case
they forgot their own supplies.

Troy selected a green tea, and lemon-scented body wash.  He poured the
stuff onto the washcloth Grant left for him.  And he started to
aggressively rub the cloth all over himself.  He started at his head, and
he worked his way down his entire body.

His rear he left for last.  He knew that would be tough and painful.  But
soon, that was the only part left.  He took a breath, and he turned to let
the water run down his back.  Troy very gently took a soapy hand, and he
rubbed it down his crevice.

He hissed as he did.  It burned as the soap hit raw skin between his
cheeks.  He set his jaw, and his eyes grew hard.  'Come on.  You've been
through worse.'  He took a breath, and he went for it.

Troy gritted his teeth, but he vigorously scrubbed himself with his soapy
hand.  He didn't want to think about the rough spots he felt on his skin.
He only wanted them gone.

Eventually, he no longer felt anything apart from his own skin.  The area
still stung and burned a little.  But he was clean as a whistle.

Troy breathed in relief.  He turned and hung his head under the water.  He
anticipated that taking a dump would be an adventure, but he'd deal with
that when the time came.

He stared down at the drain as the water formed a swirl, and disappeared
between his now clean feet.  He noticed that his toenails were pretty
gnarly though.  'I should cut them.'  He wondered if Grant would mind if he
borrowed his nail clippers.  As soon as he asked himself the question, he
knew, Grant would be okay with it.

He pushed his wet hair back.  Then he turned off the water.  Troy opened
the curtain, and he snagged the big, fluffy towel Grant left for him.  He
began to dry himself, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled the clean,
fragrant scent of the cloth.  He couldn't help but smile.  It amazed him
what he missed about regular life.  Little things.  Things he always took
for granted.

Troy finished drying, hung the towel, and he stepped out.  He looked
curiously at the little pile of clothes Grant left for him.  There were
some briefs, along with a pair of sweats, and a fuzzy sweater.

Troy hadn't put on a pair of underwear for months.  He held them in his
hand.  'I wonder if Grant has ever worn these.'  For the first time in a
while, he felt the stirring of his libido, and his penis started to wake.
For some reason, that thought turned him on.

"Ah, quit that.  I'm gonna be walking around in sweats."  He made a face.
He quickly put on the underwear.  They fit well.  And he had to admit, his
package looked pretty sexy since he sported a semi.  He chuckled and shook
his head at himself.  Troy put on the gray sweats, and the brown, fuzzy
sweater.  There was also a new pair of wool socks.  And he gratefully put
those on.  'New socks.  Ah, man.  That's nice.'  He happily wriggled his
toes in the warm socks.

He looked at the vanity under the mirror.  Troy noticed that there was a
small grooming kit sitting, nice and visible on the vanity.  There were a
disposable razor and a small canister of shaving cream that sat beside it,
while a simple black comb lay on top.  It was all apparently new, and Troy
knew they were set out for him.

"Man, does this guy think of everything?"  Troy picked up the comb, and he
quickly combed his wet, brown hair.  Then he started with the shaving cream
and razor.  He always sheared off his beard with an old trimmer he kept in
the van.  But he never could get close to the skin.  So he always sported a
day's worth of growth.  And the trimmer had seen better days.  It often
yanked the hair out, as opposed to cutting it off.

He finished his shave then he rinsed his face.  He bit his lip as he
studied his reflection.

He was thinner than he used to be.  But, Troy felt a little twinge as he
looked at himself.  'I know that guy.'  He blew out a breath.  "I know
you," he said in a hushed whisper.

It's amazing what a shower, shave, and clean clothes can do for a man.

Troy leaned against the sink.  "Okay.  See if you can help Grant with your
nasty laundry."

He took one last look at his green eyes in the mirror.  Then he turned and
opened the door.  ___________________________________

14 November 2018, Wednesday 7:51 PM

Grant took the load of laundry out of the wash.  Troy had a pitiful amount
of clothing: two pairs of pants, three flannel shirts, two undershirts, a
few pairs of old threadbare socks, one knit cap, a pair of gloves, and a
jacket.

All of it except the gloves went in.  Those, Grant threw away, along with
Troy's filthy bedding.  The gloves had holes in them and weren't good
quality to start.

He put everything that made the cut into the dryer, tossed in a dryer
sheet, and started the machine.

He had a pad of paper beside him.  And as he tossed things, he wrote them
down.  He would replace anything he discarded.  Grant looked at his list.
"Sheets, sleeping bag, blanket, pillow case, pillow, gloves."  He tapped
the pencil eraser against the pad.  "We should get him some underwear, and
some new socks too."  He wrote down the items.  His tongue appeared at the
corner of his mouth as he examined his list.

The garage door creaked open, and Troy peeked into the room.  Grant smiled
at him.  "Hey."

Troy fully opened the door.  "Hey."  He gave a tiny smile back.  "Ah, I
wanted to see if I could help."

"Nah.  It's all in the dryer."  Grant carried his pad and pencil, and he
stepped up beside him.  "Come on.  Let's sit in the living room."

The two guys walked through the house.  Grant took an overstuffed chair
that came with the house.  The couch against the wall, Grant purchased new.
He made sure to buy one that was long enough to accommodate a fully
stretched out body.  During his college days, he sometimes liked to lay on
his couch, and drift to sleep.  With a fireplace, he anticipated that would
happen more than a few times in his new house, and he liked to have the
option to allow it.

Troy sat on the couch, and he leaned forward.  His elbows were on his
knees, and one hand covered the other as they dangled, just below
knee-level.  He stared down at the floor, a few feet in front of him.  The
fire flickered and threw light and warmth over them both.

"Do you need anything?  You want something warm to drink or some water?"
Grant wanted so badly for Troy to know that he was welcome in his home.

Troy glanced up at Grant.  "No.  I'm okay."  His hands rubbed together.  He
frowned and shook his head a little.  "I'm sorry.  About earlier."  Troy
tried to explain himself.  "I just, ah, I didn't expect you to do all this
for me."  He laughed a little.  "I know you didn't sign up for this."

Grant sensed the rawness of Troy's situation, and how much it bothered him
to need help.  He also knew from reading the journal how capable, and
independent he was.  With all of that in mind, he carefully chose what he
said next.  "Well, it's fine.  I hope you don't mind, but I'm keeping track
of all the stuff I threw out.  I'll replace it all tomorrow, keep receipts,
and we'll settle up once I pay you."  Grant watched Troy for a reaction.
"That okay?"

There was almost instant relief on the thin man's face.  "Yes.  Yes, that's
great."  He let his head dip, and he stared at the floor.  "I want to pay
you back."

Grant smiled.  "All right."  He motioned at the couch.  "You can sleep in
here tonight."  Grant made a face.  "I had to toss your bedding.  It was
all pretty bad."

Troy grimaced.  He sighed, then he nodded.  "Yeah, I thought it might have
been too far gone to rescue."  He looked back up at Grant.  His eyes were
like pools of emerald and glittered in the firelight.  "I can still sleep
out in the van.  If you just give me a blanket, I can ..."

"Troy.  It's really cold out.  And it's not a problem for you to be here."
Grant stood up.  "I'm going to go get some bedding for you.  We'll make up
the couch, and you can sleep here tonight."

Grant walked back to the stairs.  He gathered sheets, a blanket, a pillow,
and pillowcase.  He returned to find Troy, still sitting in his spot.  Troy
gazed at the fire and had a dreamy, relaxed look on his face.  He blinked
when Grant returned and looked up at him as Grant stood by the couch.

'He's tired.'  Grant smiled at him.  "Here.  Let me get your bed ready."
He motioned with his head at the kitchen.  "Even if you're not thirsty, you
should have some water.  I've watched you.  You don't drink enough."

Troy gave a half-smile, and he stood up.  "Yeah.  It's a hassle to piss
when you don't have a bathroom.  I've gotten used to going without."

Troy went to the kitchen, and Grant heard the water run.  He set to work,
and soon he had a comfy little nest put together on the couch.  He
personally liked to feel like he was wrapped in a cocoon when he slept, so
he tucked in the sheet and blanket at the foot and halfway up the sides.
When Troy got in, he'd be cozy, and warm.

The thin man returned as Grant finished.  "Thanks."  He looked at the
couch.

"You're welcome."  Grant could tell Troy needed rest.  "Why don't you lay
down?  I've got a few things to do in the kitchen, but I'll keep it down."

"All right."  Troy sat, and slipped his feet under the sheet and blanket.
Then he scooted down and put his head on the pillow.  He blinked slowly.

Grant walked into the kitchen.  He checked his freezer.  'Okay, chicken
thighs.  I'll look up a recipe, and fix something other than slow cooker
food, or Dinty Moore.'  From the bits he read in the journal, Grant knew
John was an excellent cook.  And he had the strange desire to give that
back to Troy, at least while he was here at the house.

He pulled the chicken out of the freezer and put the three thighs into the
fridge to thaw.  He would eat one.  But he was sure Troy could have a
couple.

'I'll have to figure out a side dish too.  Maybe a salad, some fruit.'
Grant had never made a meal with more than three courses before.  But here
he was, planning a four-course dinner for a guy he met yesterday.

And that same guy was now on his couch.  He looked into the living room.
Troy was on his side, and he faced the room.  His eyes were closed, and he
was tucked under the sheet and blanket.  The fire cast its glow over him
and created dancing shadows that played over his face.  He had the pillow
wrapped in a bear hug, and he was curled around it.

Grant's face shifted, and his heart broke a little for Troy.  'Spooning.
He's spooning the pillow.'  It was hard for Grant to imagine how Troy felt.
'To lose something so important, and so real.'  Grant felt a twinge of
sorrow for him.

He straightened his spine.  'He's gonna be fine,' Grant told himself.  Why
he needed to believe that, he had no idea.  But he did.

Grant was a provider.  He served to better the human condition.  Usually,
that meant he focused on the physical health of many people.  They were
like blips on a radar.  Each was important, but they popped into and out of
his life quickly.  He knew he would see most again later, and continue to
help them.  But it was always episodic, and it was this paradigm Grant
accepted as his place in the larger system of care for his fellow human
beings.

This thing with Troy was very different.  Grant gazed at the man as he
slept.  He knew Troy was a capable guy, and that he merely needed a little
help.  He needed a tiny amount of understanding, patience, and effort.

He needed someone to care.

Grant cared.  He knew circumstances beyond Troy's control had destroyed his
life.  Somehow, he had made it this far for over a year, all on his own,
with the deck stacked against him.  Grant had the support of his family,
friends, and a whole system that buoyed and pushed him toward success.  It
didn't appear that Troy had any of that.

"It's your turn," Grant whispered as he looked at Troy.  "I'll make sure
you get your turn."

Grant smiled a little to himself.  Then he sat at his laptop.

'Okay.  Chicken thigh recipes.'

___________________________________

15 November 2018, Thursday 6:44 AM

The smell of brewing coffee woke Troy, and he opened his eyes.  At first,
he was disoriented, and his brain confused past with the present.  'Did I
make John mad?  Why am I on the cou ...'  Then the last sixteen months of
his life crashed back into his memory.

He closed his eyes, and he drew in a breath.

'Easy.  You're okay.'  John's voice.

Troy didn't answer him this time.  Instead, he nodded, and he sat up.  He
heard movement in the kitchen, and he looked that way.

Grant poured coffee into a thermos.  He had such a look of concentration on
his face - his brow was furrowed, eyes narrow, and his tongue again
appeared at the corner of his mouth.  Troy suppressed a giggle.

Grant finished with his obviously tricky task, and he put the carafe back
in its spot.  He looked at Troy.  "Hey.  Good morning.  Sorry if I woke
you."

Troy stood up and stretched.  "G'morning.  It's fine.  Coffee's a great
thing to wake up to."

Grant's face took on a really odd expression.  It was something between a
suppressed grin and embarrassment.  Troy frowned, then he looked down.

Troy had a severe case of morning wood, and the sweats he wore did nothing
to hide it.  He was tented out worse than a circus.

"Gah!"  He pulled his hips back and pushed at his erection.  "Damn it,
sorry."  He hadn't had much going on below the waist for months.  His body
was challenged by his situation, and resources available for his sex organs
were minimal.  But now that he was eating better, and getting enough rest
that had changed.  He couldn't remember the last time he woke up with a
boner.

Grant laughed and shook his head.  "Don't be.  Happens to every healthy
guy."  He raised his thermos.  "There's more of this in the pot.  Help
yourself.  There are also eggs and bacon in the fridge.  If you want
breakfast, knock yourself out."

"Ah, okay.  Thanks."  Troy still showed, but it wasn't quite as obscene.
Grant didn't seem too worried about it, so Troy let a little of his anxiety
go.  'He's pretty laid back.'

"Sure.  I'm heading to work.  On the way home I'll stop and pick up
replacements for the things I had to toss."  He made a face.  "Ah, I left
your laundry in the dryer.  Sorry about that.  You can run it for a bit to
unwrinkle stuff."

"I got it.  That's no problem."  Troy tried to focus on the job he had left
to do.  "I'll get the fence done today, and have the furnace delivered."

Grant nodded.  "Sounds great."  He smiled.  "Thanks for the work.  All of
it looks good so far."

Troy grinned.  "You're welcome, Grant."

They looked at each other, both with comfortable, relaxed smiles.  Grant
held his gaze for a moment longer, then he dropped his eyes, and he bit his
lip.  Troy knew that set of facial expressions well.  'Nervous?  Why is he
nervous?'

"Well, I gotta go.  I'll see you when I get back."  Grant grabbed his
computer bag and his thermos.  He walked into the living room to the door.
"Just carry the extra key.  You've got the run of the house while you're
here."

"Oh, okay."

Grant opened the door.  He seemed to be in a hurry.  "Hey, have a good
day," Troy blurted out.

Grant jerked to a stop.  He looked at Troy, and he gave what seemed to be a
forced smile.  "Thanks.  You too."

Then he was gone.

Troy stood there, utterly confused.  "What the hell was that?"

___________________________________

15 November 2018, Thursday 6:53 AM

Grant drove.  He shook his head with a grimace, and he shifted his pelvis
to try and get comfortable.  He finally hit a stoplight, and he reached
down.  He adjusted himself so that his cock lay in a better position.  The
light turned, and Grant continued on.

He exhaled.  "Okay, so, are you going to ignore this?  Or are you going to
try and figure out why the sight of Troy with an erection got you worked
up?"

Grant arrived at the clinic, and he pulled into the parking lot.  He sat
and glared down at his crotch.  "Okay.  Stop it."

Like most 28 year-old-guys, Grant only had a passing command of his member.
And today it was on its own program.

With no sign of letting up, Grant sighed.  He got out of the car, held his
computer bag so that it was in front of his hips, and he hurried into the
clinic.

___________________________________

15 November 2018, Thursday 4:18 PM

Troy stood back, hands on his hips and he looked over the length of his
fence.  He couldn't help but wear a smile.  "Oh yeah.  That's a beautiful
thing."

He was proud of the work.  It was sturdy, would last a couple of decades,
and it was very aesthetically pleasing.  He used alternating light and dark
boards, just as he did with the panel he built years back.

He'd take the fee for the fence knowing that he did the best job he could
do and that he was worth every penny.

He also selected a Rheem furnace for Grant's heater install.  It was
delivered around 11 AM, and Troy already checked it.  The furnace was
pristine.  Troy could have purchased a refurbished one, as the fellow on
the phone did give him a choice.  But that's not what Grant paid for, and
Troy couldn't short-change him.

He paid for the furnace already with money Grant had transferred into his
account.  And Troy had a running total of all of the money he owed to whom.

Troy was also glad Grant planned to keep track of the expenses incurred by
buying all new clothes and bedding.  He didn't want a handout.  He wanted
to earn his way, and he was more determined than ever to do it.

He cleaned the yard of all detritus and debris.  There were a couple of
spots where he slid a bit in the mud and carved a groove in the grass.  He
made a note to show each spot to Grant, and give him the opportunity to
dock Troy's pay for the damage.

He became hyper-aware of every error and mistake.  All he could correct, he
did.  The rest he listed out for Grant to review.  None were what he
considered fatal flaws.  But it was necessary for him to ensure everything
was on the table.  He felt he owed that to Grant.

'Well, not EVERYTHING is on the table.'  Troy ran his tongue over his front
teeth.  'He still doesn't know this was your house.'  He grimaced.  'He
doesn't know you're gay.  He might have a problem with gay people.  This
place isn't exactly cosmopolitan.'

The thought that Grant might dislike him based simply on his sexuality made
Troy frown.  'Well, he doesn't have to know.'

Troy grunted with displeasure.  He and John moved from Georgia precisely
because they were tired of hiding who they were, and the fact that they
were together.

'No.  Fuck that.  If it comes up, then I'm not gonna lie.'  He nodded to
himself.  'Though, I don't see why it would.  Shouldn't be an issue.  I do
the jobs, I leave.  Done.'

Troy felt better now that he had made the decision.  He liked Grant, but he
wasn't going to lie to make Grant accept him.

Troy walked to the porch, and he looked up at the sky as he kicked his
boots to knock the mud from them.  He tried to ensure he wasn't going to
track it through the house, as the yard was pretty messy, thanks to the
melted snow.  Troy narrowed his eyes at the steadily darkening clouds with
suspicion.

"You're gonna bust wide open again, aren't you?"  Troy glared at the sky.
Then he shrugged.  "Well, the furnace install work will all be inside.
That's good, at least."

He checked his boots and snorted with irritation.  They still had mud in
the treads.  He untied and pulled off the footgear.  Troy opened the door,
and he put them on the floor inside right beside the exit.  Then he stepped
inside.

He finished everything he had planned to do for the day, but he felt a
little guilty not working.  Troy stood in the kitchen, and his toes wiggled
in his wool socks as he thought.

He pulled out his phone.  It had been a while since he checked his ad, so
he turned off Airplane Mode, and he pulled up his email.

He saw an email from Donald Burgess.  'Troy, I need help!  Please call me,
as soon as you see this.'

Troy frowned.  The message was sent a little over an hour ago.  He
immediately dialed the number.

The line picked up.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Burgess?  This is Troy.  I got your message.  What can I do for
you?"

"Troy!  Oh, I'm glad you called!  Look, can you come by?  I've got a
problem, and I need some help.  And it needs to happen before tomorrow!"

"What's going on?"  Troy had never heard Mr. Burgess quite so riled up.

"Ah, I tried to put in that window, dropped it, and cracked the frame.
Some miracle happened, and the glass is intact.  But, I royally screwed the
frame."

"Uh, okay.  Yeah, I can get it fixed for you.  It'd be a quick thing too."
Troy scratched his head.  "I've got some transportation issues though.  It
can't wait until tomorrow?"

"No!  I told my wife I'd handle it, and, I really don't want her to come
home to see that I screwed this up.  She's at her sister's tonight, but
they'll both be here first thing tomorrow.  I'll never hear the end of it.
From both of them!"  There was a shuffling of the phone.  "If you're in
town, I'll come to get you.  I already got a piece of wood for the side of
the frame I broke.  And I've got tools, you know what I've got in the
garage."

"Ah, uhhhh," Troy rubbed his face, then he threw up his hand.  "Sure.  I'm
at 41 Winter Meadow."

"Troy, you're saving my ass!  I should have just had you install it like
she said.  Damn it.  I'll pay you extra for the last minute job.  Be ready,
I'm on my way!"

Mr. Burgess hung up.  Troy snorted and looked at his phone.  "Okay."  He
walked to the kitchen and grabbed a pad and a pencil.

'Off to do a quick job.  Should be back soon.  ~ T'

Troy put the note on the kitchen table, then he picked up his boots and
walked them to the front door.  He stepped out on the porch and pulled them
on.

He finished tying them just as Mr. Burgess' little blue Mini-Cooper pulled
up.  Troy walked to the car and got in.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"  Mr. Burgess was effusive.  "You're bailing
me out bigti ..." he stopped talking, and he frowned at Troy.  His eyes
flicked over Troy's clothes, hair and his face.

"What?"  Troy buckled up.  He waved a hand at the road.  "Don't we have a
window to fix?"

The man stared a moment longer, then he slowly nodded.  A smile pulled at
his lips.  "We do."  He put the car into gear.  "We sure do."

Troy leaned back in the seat.  And as the car started to move, he grinned.

___________________________________

15 November 2018, Thursday 5:49 PM

Grant got home to an empty house.  He struggled with his bags, and he
dropped them on the couch beside the neatly folded bedding used by Troy
last night.

All of the items he needed to replace for Troy were in the bags.  He'd
spent most of his lunch shopping, and now he had to make dinner too.

He walked into the kitchen.

"Troy?"

He opened the side door, and he made a surprised noise.  "I have a new
fence!"  He smiled, and he stepped out onto the porch.  Grant looked up and
down the length of the fence that he could see from his spot on the
porch. "Wow!  That looks awesome."  He wanted to walk out closer, but the
ground looked like a mess.  He settled for his view from the side door.

He took one more satisfied look, then he stepped back inside, and he spied
the note on the table.  Grant read it.  "Oh, another job.  That's good."
He made a thoughtful sound.  "Wonder how he got there?  Maybe it was close
enough for him to walk."

Grant shrugged.  He got the chicken out of the fridge, and he put it on the
kitchen counter.

He set up his laptop, navigated to the recipe page he saved, and he started
on his meal prep.

Twenty minutes later and his chicken with rosemary and lemon went into the
oven.  The thighs sat on a bed of almost cooked new potatoes and split
tomatoes.  All of it was tossed in olive oil, salted and peppered.

Grant smiled as he closed the oven door.  "Grandma Martin would be so proud
of me right now."

Next, he started on the green salad.  On the way home, he bought a bag of
spring mix and a blackberry vinaigrette.  Grant didn't even know there was
such a thing as blackberry vinaigrette.  But when he saw it at the store
near the spring mix, he snagged it.  Troy seemed to like blackberry, and
Grant had him in mind when he purchased the dressing.

He'd also make sure there was some crusty bread cut into slices to have
with the food.

He reached and pulled the bread down from on top of the fridge, then he
heard a knock at the front door.  Grant put the bread down on the counter,
and he went to the door.

He opened it to see Troy.  There was a car that pulled away.  It must have
dropped Troy off.  Troy grinned at him.  "Hey, Grant."  He held up grocery
bags.  "This stuff needs to go in the fridge."

"Hey."  Grant looked at him, confused.  "Okay.  There's plenty of room for
your stuff."

Troy stepped in and moved past him into the kitchen.  "Oh, this is for
you."  He put his bags on the table.  "I got eggs, bacon, bread, milk, and
some coffee."  He started unbagging everything.

Grant followed him in to the table.  "Why'd you do that?"

Troy opened the fridge door.  "Because I got paid cash for a job.  After I
finished, I had my employer take me to the store so I could replace all
your food I ate."  He looked Grant in the eye.  "I appreciate what you did
for me," Troy shook his head, "but I won't be a drain on you."  He began
putting away the items.  "I won't be a drain on anybody."

"Troy, you didn't have to ..."

"Grant," Troy interrupted, "I'm not a charity case."  He pulled himself up
to his full height.  He motioned with his chin at the bags on the couch.
"Did you save the receipts for that stuff?"

Grant blew out a breath, and he nodded.  "Yeah."  He grimaced.  "Sorry, I
didn't mean to make you think I believe you're a charity case.  I know
you're not."

Troy finished with his groceries, and he turned to Grant.  He took a step,
and he stood in front of the shorter man.  Troy reached out and put a hand
on Grant's shoulder.  "I appreciate that."  Grant couldn't help but notice
all the little striations of hazel in Troy's otherwise green eyes as the
man gazed at him.

Grant looked up at him, and Troy smiled.  Grant swallowed.  "Ah, I'm making
chicken."

Troy sniffed.  "That's what that is.  It smells good."  He finally let his
hand fall from Grant's shoulder.  "Did you want to eat together?"

Grant licked his lips, and he nodded.  "Yeah.  I made plenty."

Troy nodded.  "All right.  Sounds good."

He walked into the living room.  "I'm going to get my bed in the van
ready."  Troy picked up the bags, and he looked inside.  He seemed
satisfied with the bedding and other items Grant got for him.

Grant wanted to offer to let him stay inside another night, but he could
tell Troy was probably not receptive to that suggestion tonight.  "Okay.
Dinner will be ready in another forty minutes or so."

Troy nodded.  "All right.  I'll be back soon."

"Okay."

Troy opened the door, on his way outside with his bags in hand.  Grant
debated for a split second, then he called after him, "hey, Troy."

The thin man turned.

Grant smiled.  "You don't have to knock."

Troy stood there a moment, and his eyes softened.  "Thanks, Grant."  He
smiled back, then he closed the door.