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everything we need, and you, my dear, can ring us up. " He leaned over the counter, suddenly aware that Cal hadn't stepped back
    an inch even as Ian's ass bumped into him. "Just, uh, do some finger warm-ups or something. I
    Go Fish - 17
    wouldn't want you to strain yourself." Then, because he felt himself channeling his inner Kit
    DeLuca, he fogged up the counter glass with his mouth. He resisted drawing a heart in it, but
    only because he was going to be hard enough to draw with his dick if he didn't straighten up
    pretty soon. Gay or not, Ian would dare any man to stand with Cal Jerome pressed against his ass
    and not... respond.
    He had no idea why he was thinking with dramatic pauses now. He just was.
    At any rate, the look on the old bat's face was enough to make Ian feel more than a little
    generous. They walked out of the store, or rather, pushed, pulled, and dragged out of the store,
    with a fifty-gallon tank -- more than enough for three fish according Marcy, who had the brains
    to back up her charming geek exterior. That was the biggest tank they could take out of the store
    and set up themselves. Anything bigger came with delivery and setup, for which they'd have to
    wait until the next weekend. They were impatient.
    Besides, they were two big, strong guys. They could handle setting up a fish tank. How hard
    could it be?
    So, they got the aquarium, aquarium stand, ten bags of glass marbles and gravel, air pump,
    external filter, filter cartridges with activated charcoal (not the kind they already had for the
    barbecue grill), water purifying drops, siphon hoses, and one each of every single gaudy
    aquarium ornament on the shelf. Just because they could. And because that made about a
    hundred separate items for Attila the Fish Monger to add up without the aid of a scanner. From
    the way she glared at him, Ian thought it might just be the push she needed to step into the
    twenty-first century.
    For good measure, he got a gift card for ten, no twenty, no fifty… seventy-five… one hundred
    dollars' worth of fish. And yes, he changed his mind that many times -- after it'd already been punched in. He might even have winked at Marcy when he did it. But the icing was when Attila
    asked if they needed help carrying everything out to the car, which she was required by store
    policy to do, and Cal said he was under doctor's orders not to lift anything.
    Oh, yeah, this was a hobby Ian could definitely get into.

    ***
As it turned out, they probably should've gone with the set up and delivery service. They got out
    the stand first, because that was the logical thing to do. It came out of the box looking like a few
    mismatched pieces of wood, or some sort of wood substitute that was supposed to be stronger
    because it was laminated, a few plastic baggies full of screws, and twenty pages of instructions
    that read like organic synthesis reactions. Don't ask how Ian knew about organic synthesis
    reactions. It had something to do with a hot tutor who'd thought he had... potential.
    "Dude," Cal said with a huff. "These instructions are all in French."
    "It's okay, boy. Let me shake that brain fart loose for ya there." Ian picked up the booklet, turned Go Fish - 18
    it upside down, then flipped it right to left and plopped it back down on the floor between them.
    "Voila!" he said, which was pretty much the only French world he actually knew, and roughed
    up Cal's hair like he was petting one of the dogs.
    Cal was entirely too passive, sitting with his eyes half-lidded in an expression of, 'I'm so glad
    you're amused at my expense.'
    And Ian? Well, he wasn't so much amused as aroused, because Cal's hair was kind of soft, and
    Cal's lips were all pouty right then, and Cal's eyes were fucking... Suddenly self-conscious, Ian
    did a half-assed job of smoothing Cal's hair back into place and cleared his throat. "So, you
    wanna screw?"
    "What?" No mistaking the classic deer-in-headlights expression.
    "Sorry, I meant, do you want to