For fuzzyfruit: "AU of Chris as a writer having met drugged!Justin in the cafe. What's the next time they meet up after that?" (Silly people who have access to my WIP folder.)

The stack of unopened mail on his desk was threatening to rise up, declare itself a sovreign nation, and wrestle him for control of the office. Chris was beginning to seriously weigh the plausibility of simply abandoning his office and starting over again somewhere else. Hell, it had worked at least once before.

"Doctor Chris," came the voice from somewhere around his left knee, and he looked down to see Jessica, with Binky in tow, blinking up at him. "Will you come and see the picture I drew for you?"

"Sure, honey," Chris said, and picked her up as he stood, balancing her on his left hip. The shelter included a daycare center, and no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he shouldn't get too attached to the kids that came in and out, it didn't do him much good. "You enjoying the new art supplies?"

"Uh-huh," Jessica said, solemnly, and stuck the bear's ear in her mouth. "They're fun."

"Well, I'd thank the guy who bought them for us, except he didn't leave me his phone number." Chris scrunched up his face, and Jessica giggled. "That was rude of him, wasn't it? Not to let us say thank you?"

The cellphone in his back left jeans pocket rang, and Chris shifted Jessica to the other hip. "Hang on, honey, gotta get the phone." He fished it out and flipped it open. "Kirkpatrick."

The voice on the other end took him a second to place, but once he did, he put Jessica down again and sat back down at his desk. "Uh. This is Doctor Kirkpatrick, right?"

"Yeah. I got your letter. You should have left a phone number."

"Yeah, probably. I was busy, though. Fired all the people who kept giving me shit and hired a bunch of people who won't take my shit." The voice sounded nervous, uncertain. Chris was willing to bet that it was the first time it had in years. "You, uh, doing okay?"

"Doing great." Chris smiled. "The check you sent really helped. Really, really helped. You funded another fifty beds for the winter season."

"You helped me through a really shitty spot. And you didn't have to. Fuck, I was just a random stranger to you. You know I was thirty seconds away from walking out on the contract and going to be a potato farmer in Idaho or something, right? It's only fair that you get ten percent of everything that I made on the rest of the tour that you talked me into going back to."

"It really, really helped," Chris repeated softly. "And most people wouldn't have done it."

"Yeah, well." Justin's laugh sounded tinny through the cellphone. "I'm not most people. Anyway. I, uh. I'm scheduled for some thing in Manhattan next week, and thought, maybe I, uh. Maybe I could come down and see your place. Figure out why you're so passionate about it."

"I'd love that," Chris said, as Jessica climbed back into his lap.

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