"No problem, Skids. You can crash with me." I just have to control myself and not try to jump your bones in the meantime but I can do it. I am in control of myself. I am in tot- Cya moaned silently as Skids arms came around him.

Skids hugged Cya quickly. "Thanks! I'm tired. It's hard drawing on yourself. You have to twist and turn and bend in all sorts of interesting ways. It was fun! Next time maybe you can do my back though." Skids gave Cya a sweet smile.

"Uhhhh..." Cya pushed open his room door and turned to put Skid's guitar down... his drums were still in the car. Cya turned to ask Skids if he would help getting them only to see Skids laying sprawled out across the bed. His eyes were closed, the dusky cinnamon and gold lashes laying across his cheeks. Small breaths causing his chest to rise and fall. His shirt open and bunched up, twisting under him. Smiling, Cya crossed the room and carefully rolled Skids to the side, lifting him Cya took off his loose shirt and tugged the sheet down. Leaning down he left a kiss on Skids head while he went down to unload the car.

* * *

Cya shifted in his chair, he loved Skids-watching, it was his favorite sport. And what a wonder Skids was to watch. The sun gave him a golden glow, suddenly Cya stood up and got his sketch pad. If he was going to watch Skids at least he could put it to some use other than looking like a love sick idiot.

He hardly noticed when his mother came in, but when she pulled the covers up he could not suppress a growl.

"Something wrong, mi hijo?" She asked.

"Nah, I'm just trying to get this sketch done. I figured while I have him finally all settled, I can get this done. Already did Harley's." Cya lied quickly.

"Ahhh, well ok, I'll get out of your way." She looked over at the sketch, "this is very good, hijo. Lots of care went into this."

"Yeah, Mami."

"Well ask him, when he wakes, if he wants to stay for supper, ok?"

"Yes, Mami."

"Good boy."

As soon as she left he got up and walked over to the phone, picking it up, he called Mik.

"What?"

"How polite of you, Mikhael."

"Torres, look the whole reason for today was to make Harley happy, who then makes me happy. Talking to you isn't making me happy." Mik drawled.

"Too MUCH information," Cya covered the phone and looked back at Skids to make sure he hadn't woken him by being too loud. "Look, I need your help. You remember what we talked about in the elevator?"

"Yeah..."

Cya could hear Rasputin's smile through the phone.

"You think you can paint a picture of Skids for me... a real one, not one of those wonky artsy pieces?

"A portrait, normally I wouldn't but for you... alright."

"Cool. Gotta go. Tell Harl hi."

"Nope." Rasputin hung up the phone.

Cya turned back to his Skids-watching. Walking across the room, he noticed that for some reason Skids' frowning in his sleep. Moving over to the bed, he stroked Skids' soft hair back. Moving a little closer, he sat the guitar in his hand and started sing gently in. Closing his eyes he sang softly in Spanish;

As the last note died away, Cya leaned over and kissed Skids' lightly, feeling Skids' kiss him back. Moving back, he saw Skids' smile and lean forward.