“Hey, what is it?” Robbie rises to his feet, frowning in concern. He’s incredibly beautiful when he’s sleep- and sex-rumpled. His dark eyes are soft and focused on Lance in just the way Lance has always craved, but all of the old intensity is magnified by the fact that Lance still has the taste of him in his mouth, the feel of him on his skin.

He forces a smile and gets out of bed so that he’ll have an excuse to avert his eyes. “I’m just worried she won’t be all right.”

Robbie’s speculative glance lingers, suggesting he isn’t buying Lance’s diversionary tactic, but he plays along, looking back at the calf and giving her a fond rub on the back of the neck. “Megan seemed optimistic.” The calf cranes her head up and sticks out an absurdly long, curled tongue to try to lick Robbie’s wrist. They both laugh.

Lance pulls on Johnny’s jeans and surrenders himself to the welcome distraction of the calf, petting her wonderingly, careful not to let his touch throw her off balance. After a minute or two, she grows tired, anyway, and after taking a few triumphant steps that garner further praise from Lance and Robbie, she collapses back into her towel nest.

“We should set her up downstairs in one of the stalls,” Robbie says. “She’s cute, but she’s going to seem a lot less cute when she starts making regular, um…outputs.”

Lance wrinkles his nose. “You don’t have to convince me. I learned firsthand, remember?”

Robbie grins and nods. “I guess you did.”

“But isn’t it too cold for her?”

“I don’t think so, not now that she’s dry. And it’s a lot warmer down there than it is outside. I also have an overhead heater that I can turn on...provided it still works.”

While Robbie goes about dealing with the logistics of moving the calf to more appropriate quarters, Lance pets her, stroking her from the soft whiskers around her wet nose to the tips of her fluttering ears. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to draw an alternate reality around himself. He knows firsthand what the fallout is like when one of those crumbles around him. But he lets himself indulge, just for a minute. If Robbie were his, and his home were with Robbie, he’d convince Robbie to keep the calf. It probably wouldn’t be hard; she’s much more endearing than the triplicats. And then he’d choose a name for her. He knows exactly what it would be, and the thought makes him grin. Robbie happens to come in while his smile is still lingering, and he smiles in turn.

“The heater fired up just fine. Want to give me a hand with the door?”

Lance dons a coat and boots, and opens and closes the doors so that Robbie can navigate them with both arms full of the calf. When they reach the lower story of the barn, Lance looks around curiously.

“It’s weird, seeing it without the horses,” he says while Robbie places the calf in a nest of fresh straw in the first stall. A wide, flat infrared heater that’s affixed to the ceiling glows red, giving off enough heat that Lance is too warm in his coat.