...made Dean cringe. Dean stared from his lover on the couch, to the one standing in front of him with the hat, to the one who was now coming to join him from the kitchen. “Don’t startle him like that, Shooter.” Morton scolded, stepping near Dean. Dean jumped away from him, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. “I can see he startles easily.” the Mort named “Shooter” chuckled softly. Dean moved...

...” His answer to this was Mort yanking his belt off and sending it skidding across the kitchen floor. “Mort, Mort easy!” Dean yelped, as his shirt was torn open next. “Oh quiet, boy.” Mort growled. The dark haired man froze. He blinked carefully at his lover. “Did you…just call me ‘boy’?” he asked shakily. Mort looked up at him slowly. No. Not Mort. Shooter. “Gotcha, boy.” he grinned.